Monday, November 14, 2011

The Big Three

The poem in this post came to me in a blur. It started as a quick tweet before bedtime a few nights ago in a form very close to how it appears here. The thing is, I grew up Catholic, did the Communion thing, and for whatever reason I picked a Saint Christopher pendent all those years ago. A pendent I never go anywhere without actually. Fitting seeing that he is the Saint of Travelers. In the course of my life so far, Ive picked up a few ideas about how I see the world and as such, a pair of saints to accompany Christopher. I've discovered Anthony, the Saint of All Things Lost, and Isabelle, the Saint of Peace and Charity. Hence the title of this post and poem:


The Big Three

My own personal saints,
I've got three.
They say everything always comes in comes threes.
First is Saint Christopher,
For my soul's travels,
My "shotgun" saint on the peddle to the metal.
What do you say Chris? Want to see what she can do?
Saint number two: Anthony.
For those times I'm lost,
Without a map,
Up Shit's Creek without a paddle.
Last, but not least: Isabelle.
My model of peace and charity,
To remind me, that no matter what,
Even when life knocks my teeth out,
That the world is much bigger than me,
And that everyone is in the fight of their lives.


Thanks for reading. That's me, right now, in the middle of everything.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Three Poetic

I'm not sure what a proper introduction to this post is, so I'll just say that it's three more of my poems, each its own creature, with its own inspiration.

Poetic #1: This one is my attempt at a sonnet. Minus the iambic pentameter, I kept to the rules of rhyme scheme and number of lines. It should be said that I am NOT a good rhymer, that despite my love of hip hop, it's not my easiest path to a poem. It must also be said that this is a direct response to a challenge from one of my favorite students. I don't back down from a challenge. This poem is for all of my students, but especially Ashley Cate.

My Students

Every morning I come through the B hallway door.
Not sure what or who will challenge me.
Strolling along. saying, "hey." Hoping my belongings don't drop to the floor,
Seeing students seeing me fumbling for my keys.

First period is a trip, truly is.
I am far more awake than any of these kids.
Inevitably, one or two of them will jump head first into a dis,
But basically, it's up to me to help them avoid these kinds of skids.

The game I play is all about turning on the lights,
Turning on tunes, planning plus improv equals learning.
Showing them what they know, but think is beyond their sights,
I'm trying to turn trudges and tribulations into yearning.

I see it, tomorrow is not just a new day,
It is a view into doing this a brand new way.

**Special thanks to Freya for scribing the first draft of this, I originally had this written on the board.**

Poetic #2: This one is also a response to a challenge of a student, in this case, it was to shut a smartass up. In fact, this student didn't even complete his poem in the end. That irony didn't go without notice or comment from his classmates, so I guess he lost twice. This poem directly takes its form and inspiration from the hip hop duo Blackalicious and their song "Alphabet Aerobics." This one was very fun to write.


Alphabet Enlightenment

Activate my attention, my aural plane.
Be the beat in my brain, banging that bass drum.
Catch the cascade, cool my canopy.
Deal the downbeat on a dime, don't dare stop.
Everything is everything, everlasting when I emotionally connect. Electric.
Fantastical, further than free, footing not the final figure.
Greatness only given when the good gets going, going keeps growing.
Heavens, hells, heroes, heals. Hello to it all, hoping for a clear difference between halos and horns.
Intelligence for strength internal, independence, Iconic identification.
Jumping on the wings of joy. Joining the joy, jockeying for forever. Jubilation.
Kindness is my religion, killing that hate that Klans live in. Kinetic flow.
Letting loss live again as lessons for living, for loving.
Mountains can be moved, maneuvered, made massive, made miniature, my mood makes and breaks them.
Never give up; never give in, not for negative. No one. Never. Not once.
Operate on other planes, optimism can obliterate oppression.
Power is found in peace, punctuation, paragraphs, poems.
Quandaries, questions, quizzes, quests, never stop questioning.
Rest when revelry is reached. Rocky roads won't rope me down.
Still, never stop the surge that strikes, sustenance for my soul.
Timid, trepidation, torrential, traffic. Terms that tempt the topple of my temple.
Understanding, uncompromising, unwavering, unstoppable.
Vital signs vivaciously making new vectors. Venting vexations.
Wandering to start wondering, wondering to welcome words.
X-ray visions creating extraordinary spirit that can't be found at Xavier.
Yours is your world. You, for you. Yourself alone. You.
Zenith, one day, the zenith.

Poetic #3: This last one stemmed from a prompt for my classes as well. This time I wanted them to write about a favorite childhood toy. For the longest time, I've wanted to write about mine. Finally, the muse sang to me. Above my Star Wars toys, beyond my Transformers, my G.I. Joes, my you name it, the subject of this poem is what mattered most to me. This is what I came up with.

Easier To Be Green
As a kid, I had more ear infections than I could count.
To the point I drank more antibiotics than water.
At the least, I was at Boston Eye and Ear monthly.
New tubes, another earplug fitting, yet another procedure.
From the house, to the T, to the specialists.
Not how I wanted to miss school,
I never played sick, my ears made sure of that.
It was such a routine.
Until one day -

I lived with The Muppets, I lived on the street,
Sesame Street.
Do you know how to get there?
You should.

There was this one day,
Routine as all the other visits to eye and ear were,
I'm put under for new tubes, I still hate the smell and taste of that gas.
I awake and the first face I see is green.
Kermit is waiting for me.
Ping pong ball eyes and green felt body and all.
From that day on there would be no hurdle too tall,
Kermit was there.
All other ear procedures, right there with me.
Kermit lived for the road too.
He was my road trip buddy.
From Dorchester to the Green Mountains, and back to Dorchester,
Always right there, ready for the ride.

As a kid I faced more tests than I could count.
Kermit was my shield.
My partner in crime,
My space ship co-pilot.
The galaxies we'd reach so far, far away.
A long way from Samoset Street.
A long way from Sesame Street.
But, always a shortcut to the heart of my childhood,
To the heart of me.
Thank you Kermit, for making it easier to be green.


Thanks for reading, that's me, right now, in the middle of everything.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Work in Progress (A Poem by Me)

I love poetry. I love to read it, write it, hear it. I just love it! I wrote this poem about a year ago. For some reason the first two lines kept ringing in my ears. In large part autobiographic, in small part tongue in cheek sarcastic bastardry. Or is it the other way around? In truth, the poem is me at that moment it came together. And beyond. I hope you enjoy.


Work in Progress

He is a good guy,
Somewhere between Jesus Christ and John Lennon.
Living righteously, as much as he can anyway,
Though there is always Saturday night.
But it's Saturday that makes the work for Sunday.
A good guy, really, I mean, really he is.
A heart like the Grinch's,
After he heard the Who's singing without the presents and fixings,
After he carved the roast beast.
Reaching out to pull people closer,
To protect,
To share the sanctity of love.
Oh the backslide!
Backsliding is the fun of it!
Like I said, got to have something to do come Sunday.
In the end, He will judge him,
He will say, "Come on up, kick back,
Beer is in the fridge."
See, I'm telling you,
He's a good guy, really, somewhere between Jesus Christ and John Lennon.