Scattered Memories

6

January 25, 2016, Prescott- I had the unexpected pleasure of working with two groups of first-graders, today.  Later on, came the displeasure of blocking and deleting someone who was soliciting money, which I can’t spare.

Now, let’s get back to the Winter Scavenger Hunt.

I recall little of my first kiss.

I wasn’t at all of the age when such would normally occur.

There was, of course, a lingering sense of bliss.

It set an amorous path in motion, though I was but the age of four.

Time went on, I felt I might have come from Planet Mars.

My consciousness, anyway, was somewhere among the stars.

I ate equally of animal and plant.

My siblings cringed at foods of green.

Not I, without rant,

I took helpings of spinach and broccoli, staying serene.

Macaroni and cheese was a dish at which Mother excelled.

Many meals featured bread crumbs, and their flavour cast a spell.

Alas, the richness of memory

Is a place in which I must not long dwell.

A Matter of Opinion

2

January 23, 2016, Prescott-

Angels come to call, on delicate wings

Happiness, they bring, in a climate carefree and loose

“It’s been down to brass tacks long enough.”, the Archangel sings,

“No more beet root salad, no one’s neck will meet the noose.”

(This is a response to another prompt in the Winter Scavenger Hunt.)

 

A Measure of Kindness

8

January 21, 2016, Prescott- I am spending today and tomorrow with fourth graders at a small elementary school, on Prescott’s north side.   It’s a welcoming place, that has offered me continuity, over the years.  I will miss that, in the latter part of next week, but one must choose, and move forward with those choices.

Here’s a bit of speculation, on a different note:

Is it ethical to practice vivisection on ants?

Looking at the segments of the writhing forms,

whilst knowing full well none of them may register a plaint.

The susurration of a shocked animal-rights advocate, in Scandinavia, may be the norm.

Yet, would it be any less barbaric, for a horseshoe to land on the insects, as they herd their aphids, among their plants?

(The above is in response to another prompt, in the Winter Scavenger Hunt).

Owls in Winter

10

January 7, 2016, Prescott-  This is a short ditty, in honour of a friend’s Winter, 2016 Scavenger Hunt.  (You realize this means I may do two posts a day, for the near future. )

Eyes doing a two-seventy

Surveying the snowscape

for signs that a small, gray meal

might attempt an escape.

Silly raptor,

the meals are all underground

Safe and warm,

in their nests nicely bound.

What is left for an owl to do,

but let out a plaintive

“HOO, HOO,HOO, HOO”?

Snow

7

December 14, 2015, Prescott- 

Early to rise,

looked upon whitened skies.

A brief text,

said don’t hurry, rest!

A delayed drive to work,

didn’t see many jerks.

Children discombobulated,

by the start of school, belated.

Practice for tomorrow’s song,

interrupted by mindless chatter- all wrong!

In the end, melodic voices,

overcame the miscreant’s disruptive choices.

Back at home, I encountered a bug,

Removed from the wall, it sits in a jar,

Snug.

The Road to 65, Mile 331: Nightmare

4

October 25, 2015, Prescott- Reflections on a middle-night’s dream:

There came the Little Rascals,

into a coffee shop where I sat.

An adult was with them,

speaking untoward rap.

Egging on the boys and girls,

Her words were enough to make me hurl.

I stood up and re-assured the kids,

that young, fresh days are not meant

for moral skids.

Be free of obligation,

to social degeneration.

I awoke,

having stood my ground,

feeling ready for a day

of love profound.

The Road to 65, Miles 326-7: Sanctity

5

October 19-20, 2015, Chino Valley

Some thoughts on a couple of rainy days:

Awakening under stars,

glorying in a shower.

Glancing at the news,

whilst thinking of my brood.

The clouds ride north with me,

and plot their mid-day reverie.

Some are stranded behind sand-bagged washes,

Most, though, tough out the day,

with galoshes,

and a will that overcomes the driving rain.

For, learning soothes, and ignorance

breeds pain.

Knowledge has sanctity.

Its lack, breeds angst,

you see.

The Road to 65, Mile 323: Extra

3

October 16, 2015, Prescott- 

It was a day off, of sorts, and I recouped some energy. This is directed at a person, in a school, who looks at people like me, and shows only disdain.

Early morning invitation,

to increase my aggravation.

A polite decline,

no extra time,

to spend on one

who talks a line

of superiority and

shuns,

those like me

whose love is free

and time-tested.

You, who walk with upturned nose

will soon realize aloneness,

I suppose.

As you sit in your seat,

sequestered.

Remember, those of us

who give, the extra.

The Road to 65, Miles 303-4: In Sync

5

September 26-7, 2015, Prescott- 

More doggerel, as my schedule has been hectic, of late:

I read the words of love and caution

Warding me from onward rushing.

Despite the hint of harshness

Your honesty dispels much darkness.

A walk around town cleared my head

Know that your words will never bring dread.

These words spring from a couple of conversations with young people whom I love dearly.

The Road to 65, Mile 300: Cinquain

4

September 23, 2015, Chino Valley- In this third day of my trial run at Mingus Springs, one of my teaching tasks involved breaking down the writing of a cinquain, one of the simpler forms of poetry, so that it was comprehensible to my 21 eight-year-olds.

It is only fair, therefore, that today’s “Road” entry be a cinquain of my own device.  It  is a reflection on the episode that was the season premiere of “NCIS”.

Team

Ever reliable

Poised and ready

At a moment’s notice,

Trustworthy.

My teams are thus:  Son and siblings, Faith Community, colleagues, students, dedicated friends.

“I’ve met your team.  How can you say you’re alone?”- Jon Cryer to Mark Harmon, in the above-mentioned episode.  Indeed, and neither am I, really alone.