The Pain Remembered

The Pain Remembered

Sometimes I wonder why memories surface.
In the middle of last night I thought about
the day my fifth grade teacher jerked my arm
painfully and forced me to square dance with her
because I wasn't square dancing right. She
felt the need to show me and humiliate me.

Then I remembered how she made me run the track
around the playground despite my shortness of breath,
despite my painful wheeze.  I remember getting
very sick after that, missing school for days,
which I often did when something triggered my asthma. 
I remember wishing I never had to go back.

I remember her evil glares.  She didn't like me.
I was afraid of her.  I hid  from her when I could.
School was no fun. I feared answering questions,
her attention on me, her ridicule.  I was quiet anyway,
but she made me quieter.  I could do nothing right.
It is amazing I became a teacher.

The truth - all of it - written for Poets United Poetry Pantry.
I can still see this woman's face. 

Clarity

Clarity


All appears clear
everyone smiles, knows truth,
toasts the knowledge. Full glass.
To life! Raise your glass high.
Then something changes, subtle,
almost imperceptible
fogs the big picture.
Now confusion instead of clarity
blurred ideas, smudged lines
crystal clear no more
muddy waters reside
and I wonder if clarity is
only an illusion.


Sorry for a repeat of an earlier poem - one from 2011.  Unfortunately I find it very relevant today.  Shared with Poetry Pantry.

I Won't Write.....

I Won't Write....

I won't write a political poem
okay?
I mean there are enough people doing that anyway

Never mind the news we hear each day
turn off the radio and television and take a walk
and pay no attention to rampant racism
don't speak up
tomorrow is a new day
this too will pass
trust me it always has

I won't write a political poem
okay?
I mean there are enough people doing that anyway

Turn off the fake news
don't believe what is written in Fire and Fury
climate change is a matter of opinion
bring on the immigrants from Norway
(not wondering why Norwegians would come anyway)
not Haiti or Africa who needs them
but never mind just take a walk.

I won't write a political poem
okay?
I mean there are enough people doing that anyway.

Be happy there are now tax cuts which help the rich
while they tell the middle class the bill will help them
give them a few perks now but they'll suffer in the end
but never mind be happy smile while you can
the poorhouse won't be that bad after they
totally take healthcare benefits away and you can
have a party surrounded by all of your friends.

But no
I won't write a political poem
I mean there are enough people doing that anyway.

Shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry.


I was inspired to write this after reading Rosemary's
Thought Provokers feature this week. The italicized
words are taken from the poem "I Won't Write a
Political Poem, Okay" by Robin Archbold.  Check back.

The Wall

The Wall

We seem to grope blindly

as we look for the door through the wall

Whenever we see an opening

It seems to just as quickly slam closed

we try to remain hopeful

there has to be a way through

maybe if we all join hands

we can together lead the charge

to kick down the blasted wall.



 Submitted to Poetry Pantry. Had I written this early enough I would have shared it with Susan's last week's Midweek Motif -- Doorway(s).   Maybe, just maybe, if we all join hands........