NPM: Poem 25

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  This poem...the topic...not so fun...


Just One More Day

Life taken by self.
Time just could not wait.
Emotions arise in ourselves.
Memories will not abate.

The day after...
Full of...
Sunshine,
Spring,
Life.

Oh, to have waited
Just one more day.
Hope to be stated,
Life's reasons to portray.

Oh, to have waited
Just one more day...
Would we have listened
Or the inevitable simply delayed?

A reminder to all,
To pause,
To listen to mind's call
To remind of probable cause
To wait, to pray, to make a difference.

Oh, to have waited...
Just one more day...

RIP Resource Officer John Carroll,
He always cared.
He always paused.
A model to our children, our students.

Thank you.

Oh, to have waited...
Just one more day.

NPM: Poem 24

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.

Hard Lessons

Today, The Girl was fired.
For her misdeeds?
Or revenge?

Face to face,
I listened
To reasons, to rationale.

My teaching motto always:
Be firm.
Be fair.
Be consistent.

The standard:
No bullying.
No lying.

Today, The Girl was fired.
Not for her misdeeds.
For standards I hold too high
For some who cannot, will not reach.

Just let me say, for in the South we do,
"Bless her heart," for with these words,
tacking on other truths, allowed they are.

No?

Probably, no.

In the South,
today,
I must say,
to keep from saying
too much,
Lord, please, just bless her heart.
You will have to bless,
For my wrath must decrease.

Hurt The Girl.
Hurt me.

That revenge?
Stemming from?
My words.
Truthful.
Harsh.

Today, my girl was fired.
Lord, You, please, bless both of their hearts.
The revenger...the young one.

Two hurting.
Mom and Daughter.

Recover we will.
Hard lessons.
Learned.

NPM: Poem 23

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem each day.  Fun!

Senior Seminar Board

So proud of each and every one.
Planning, practicing, presenting,
To peers, teachers, and community persons.

Three weeks of planning:
Resume.
Essay.
Outline.
PowerPoint.

A weekend of practicing.
Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Checking time and standing tall.
Time constraints,
Word choice must be precise.

Four days of presenting.
Ten sections do represent,
Their perspectives,
All based on evidence.
Dressed to the nines
Their images redefined.

Planning.
Practicing.
Presenting.

The sighs.
The relief.
The excitement.

Each spoke to the board, not bored.
They are proud.
I am proud.

Today, complete.
Senior Seminar Board 2015.

NPM: Poem 17

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem.  Fun!

Mission Accomplished

Assignments assigned.
Deadlines changed.
Inbox begins to fill.
What's the deal?

Essay where?
For Inbox, not there.

Much nashing and whaling,
Much dialing and explaining.
That Inbox?
Yes, beginning to fill.

Mrs. G, she's so tough,
Too hard.
"What?!  I'm a senior,
Coasting I should be."

Unfortunately, senior year
Philosophies do clash.

That Inbox?
Full.

Expectations met.
Philosophy accept.
Mission 2015
Will be accomplished.

NPM: Poem 16

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

How Do You Do What You Do?

How do I do what I do?
Let me tell you...
all because of you and you and you!

I so wish you knew
What motivation you inspire,
even as you inquire.

Let me tell you how I do what do...
because of family: husband and daughter.
As athletes need spotters,
So they support me
With love so strong, ears that often long
For change of topic...yet patiently they endure.
My projects, my ideas, they reassure.

Let me tell you more...
This drive spurred on by friends:
Brenda, Donna, Crystal,
With ideas and dreams entrusted,
We decorate, season by season,
Spurred on by one true reason,
One soul to win, one seed to plant,
Fun, food, and fellowship.

Let me tell you more...
This drive spurred by on by friends:
Rose, Joyce, Glenda, Brenda M,
As off to women's conferences attending,
As the Lord our souls mending.
Learning, singing, worshiping.

Let me tell you more...
This drive spurred on by friends:
Katie, Pastor Kenny, Lisa, Zelpha...and more...
Teaching, leading, defending,
Learning, growing, extending.
Again, one goal:
A soul, a seed,
Even if just one.

Let me tell you more...
This drive spurred on by peers:
Amanda, Justin, Kathy, JimBob...and so many more...
Who, every day, through highs and lows,
Who, every day, through losses and gains,
We teach and grow and inspire and..
Sometimes, tough love just demands
That we teach and grow and inspire.

Let me tell you more...
This drive spurred on by siblings dear:
Judy, Janet, and Joe,
Encouraging, praying for me they expound
As their love does mound.
Asking I do less; proud when I do more.

May I tell you why I do what I do?
I am wife, mother, teacher, friend, sister.
I do because that is just who I am.

NPM: Poem 12

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

For You

With joy, with enthusiasm,
The Grandgirl One did go
To bend, to pick, to gather,
For to her this mattered.

A handful of dandelions.
Bright yellow, full of beauty,
Full of love.

"Tam Tam, I picked these for you!"

Right to the table they did go,
For they might have been bouquets to behold.
Selected for me,
Picked for me,
Hand delivered to me,
Those dandelions surely bore gold,
So precious were they to this Tam Tam.

NPM: Poem 10

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

Waiting

The words begin to flow,
For the words the brain does bestow.
Line after line,
Just a matter of time.

A symphony of words?
Synchronized before reaching the fingertips.
Rhythms these collections, these groupings may have.
Directed towards a theme, a lesson spoken from the lips.

The piece does not begin
Until the idea settles,
For until then, the brain simple mettles,
Until the idea attributed to the brain's choir
Of arranged thoughts begin to merge,
The sounds begin to form.
The unspoken trickling into lyrics.

A bestseller?  Climbing the charts?
No.

Just a symphony released from the brain
Down through the fingertips
Onto the page
To be preserved
To give the brain a rest.
Words released to rest upon the page,
For now they no longer wait.

NPM: Poem 9

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

Unique

Five sections.
One topic.
Same lessons.
All different.

Teaching seniors, an age I love.
Young yet old.
Smart yet unlearned.
Leaders yet followers.
Experienced yet innocent.
Finished yet beginning.

Teaching five groups, a mix I appreciate.
White, black, Spanish, Latino.
16, 17, 18.
Male, female.
Talkative, quiet, funny, serious.
A, B, C, D, F?

Teaching young adults, who are just emerging.
Working jobs.
Paying bills.
Taking care of siblings.
Taking care of parents.
Taking care of grandparents.
Some now old before their time.

Teaching young adults, 98 all growing.
All with different names.
Names alluded to on this page.
Walking soon around the track.
Accepting that now not-so-allusive paper.
Celebrating who they were.
Beginning the rest of their lives.

Teaching the Class of 2015 from August to May.
Not for what they completed these months,
But for who they will become.
Successful in their choices.
Knowing this,
Always a student of mine,
Always a BHS alum.

NPM: Poem 7

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

Ode...of sorts...to Normal School Hours

Tonight, the brain sleeps
With eyes wide open.

Tonight, the head nods
As a gentle, lady-like snore (of course)
awakens the brain.

Schedule changes demanding attention,
The brain one more thought cannot mention,
Again, eyes crossing in such yearning,
For tonight not one more iota of learning
Shall occur.
No...

ZZZZZzzzzzzZzzzZzzzzzz...what?

Tonight, the brain is now declaring
To Sleepland I must be sharing
Dreams of green trees with leaves,
Dreams where all receives
Hours of bliss and sleep deprivation now gone,
Peaceful hours as morning awaits...but...yawn...

Yawn.

Here, I sit spending time with you,
As I relax while chatting,
Softly progressing...
Yes, the time is now.
We part,
Until the morrow.
We part...

Yawn.

Yes, good night.

NPM: Poem #6

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem each day.  Fun!

Taking a Stand

Have you heard?
I am woman.
Respect I deserve.
Respect I expect.
Respect I obtain.

Have you heard?
My friend?  She is woman.
Respect she deserves.
Respect she expects.
Respect she obtains.

Have you heard?
We are Jesus Girls.
We pray,
knowing His Peace,
following His Lead,
heeding His Will,
accepting His Answer.

NPM: Poem 5

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I will attempt to write a poem a day.  Fun!

Then They Remembered

A few women,
Scurrying to arrive.
In time?

An opened-entry tomb.
Scurrying to arrive.
No time.

Alarmed they are.
Angels they see.
What?  Out of time?

How could they have forgotten?
One day spent accepting.
The next spent grieving.
How could they have forgotten?

Handed to sinners.
Crucified.
Risen.
Then they remembered.

He's alive!
No need for expensive spices.
No need for visitors this day.
No need to keep quiet.

He's alive!
They had remembered.
He's alive!
Spread the Good News.
Quell back disbelief.
Spread the Good News.
Tell to one and all.
He's alive!

This day we remember.
May we always remember.
Yes, He's alive!

NPM: Poem 4

In honor of National Poetry Month, here I will attempt to write a poem a day.  Fun!

EGG-citing Times!

Today, we gather
in the park
with neighborhood kids,
with church family alike,
eggs peeking out,
voices shrieking in excitement,
hot dogs roasting,
games galore,
prizes creating smiles.

Today, we gather
in the park
with neighborhood kids,
with church family alike,
sharing His Story:
yesterday He was crucified,
today He lies in a tomb,
tomorrow, He resurrects.

Today, we gather
in the park
with neighborhood kids,
with church family alike,
His Fellowship to share,
shining with His Son
on this beautiful day full of sun.

Today, we gather
in the park
with neighborhood kids,
with church family alike,
to plant and water the seeds,
to cultivate the hearts,
to point one and all
to Jesus Christ,
for He is risen
this we do know.

Today, we gather.

NPM: Poem 3

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I will attempt to write a poem each day.  Fun!

Baby Jack's Parents

Tonight Baby Jack arrives, but
Before he does, a moment let's spend
Celebrating the friendships of mom and dad
Who, together, created this special lad.

His dad I knew first.
Adopted him I did.
His teacher mom I became.
A Christian.  An Educator.
A Leader.  A Friend.

Then, his mom I came to know.
Both lovers of reading we are.
Both developers of professional growth.
Both wanting more for our WRRC.

These two are special.
My prayers with them now, as
From two, they now grow to three.
With the arrival of this gift,
May God continue to bless them so greatly,
For their love is about to grow, deepen, solidify
By the common gift that will be known as Baby Jack.

On this day, Baby Jack's birth date,
I feel blessed to know dad and mate.
On this day, Baby takes a breath,
And friendships take on a new depth.

Happy birthday, Baby Jack.

NPM: Poem 2

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I will attempt to write a poem a day.  Fun!

A Girl Day

Tomorrow, my day with The Girl,
To Little Rock, we will traverse.
Her heart full of beauty of the pearl,
Her heart she so quickly does disperse.

Tomorrow, my day with The Girl,
Time spent shopping, eating, chatting.
Planning outfits, snacks, coffees,
Meeting The Boy, The Doctor, The Nurses.

Tomorrow, my day with The Girl,
Developing that relationship,
Sharing the love, the laughter, the giggles,
Witnessing the growth, the love, the depth.

Tomorrow, my day with The Girl,
Treasuring the times, the meals, the trips,
Praising the good news, the good report,
Loving her, the time, the growth.

Tomorrow, the day with The Girl
I will spend.

NPM: Poem 1

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I will attempt to write a poem a day.  Fun!

She Is a Foolin'

The day of jokes and tricksters.
The day of shhhhhh and whispers.
Today, on whom will the jokes be made?
Will I be fooled and my thoughts swayed?

At 1:25, the intercom alive does come,
Calling lads and lasses  to succomb
To Saturday School for tardies galore,
Giving up free time they must deplore.

Then, my firstborn her name was called.
Why, yes, I was a bit shocked and appalled.
Not too surprised, for in the halls she often is,
So her presence has been amiss.

In come students, attempting to warn me,
Preparing me for behaviors simply to shocking.
"She is in trouble; just ask her."
A text I send as I start to murmur.

Arrives she does with a look of shame.
Yes, Saturday School he gave.
My response, with face grim,
"I will make sure you are there at 8 AM."

Then, she smiled,
For with friends compiled,
Her mother she fooled,
She, who was so schooled,
Had been duped.
My thoughts regrouped.
Planning now my revenge.
One year from today on much depends!