Class Haiku

Poetry has been so far off my to do list lately that it hurts. But this week in class, teaching EFL students here for the summer, the lesson was writing haiku.

I joined them.

1.

The blackberry bush
Temptingly beckons the child
Fierce thorns guard the prize.

2.

Petrichor rises
The maple leaves turn their backs
Nature huddles tight.

(I just wanted to use petrichor in a poem.)

For MLK, 50 Years After the Outrage

"For MLK, 50 Years After the Outrage"

I am older now than you ever got to be.

So young, too young, so much more to do.

But I was a child then, you the elder.

Your legacy shaped my life.

So much so that I, too,

am the Reverend Doctor.

The doctor so I can educate;

The reverend so that I can

more fully embrace the duty of Love

I owe my brothers and sisters.

The path you laid out is not easy.

Hate is so much easier than Love;

But Love so much more worth the effort.

I have tried, Reverend Doctor,

to be the sister you deserve.

To teach, to lead, to keep up the fight,

until our children live in a world

in which they are judged for their

characters, not their skin color.

I pray I live to see the world you envisioned,

And pray that when we meet someday, both

on the other side, you will smile, and know

that your words fell on fertile ground.

But today, 50 years on, I mourn the life

that ignorance brutally ended.

Until we meet in glory, dear brother,

I endeavor to keep your legacy alive.

Rest in power, Brother Martin. With love.

Pretty

Pretty

You are so pretty

But

cut your nose

cut your fat

cut your hair.

You are so pretty

But

                tweeze your eyebrows

                perm your hair

                stand up straighter

You are so pretty

But

                dye your hair

                bleach your teeth

                fix that chin.

I am so pretty.

But when I look in the mirror

A stranger looks back.

               

NaPoWriMo #1 Apostate's Alleluia

Apostate’s Alleluia

Today we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus

who rose from the dead like so many gods before Him.

But we don’t talk about that, because, of course

He is the One True God. And for a long time, I believed.

I still Believe in Jesus being a true God. But also ask:

Is there really One True God?

                                              I think not.

There is a Creator, beyond comprehension.

Beyond gender, beyond race, beyond human.

But humans love putting face on the Divine,

so that our feeble brains can understand.

So “God” appears in different guises

in different times to different cultures.

Baldr died and rose again, but not to save from Death.

As did Inanna, who returned after three days.

Osiris, dead at his jealous brother’s hand, returned

thanks to a desperate wife’s love and magic.

But humans can be petty creatures.

Their god is “the” god. They will

fight to the death, torture, maim, murder

to deny others their right to believe.

Love Incarnate will ultimately triumph

but meanwhile, this apostate cries:

“Alleluia, He is Risen! Let all be Blessed!

“Alleluia, Love is with us. Amen”

Tomorrow Starts NaPoWriMo 2018

I want to wish all my NaPoWriMo friends the best of luck in this year's quest to write 30 poems in 30 days.

I'm hoping to join the fun, but with so much on my plate, I'm not going to beat myself up if I can't do it.

But I am certainly looking forward to reading an outpouring of wonderful poetry!

Enjoy the month!!

Finding Peace

"Finding Peace"

Surrounded by chaos

I search for peace.

It cannot come from outside,

but must be found within.

I do the usual—

prayer, laughter,

yoga, breathing

meditation, reiki,

Ayurvedic herbs—

OK, perhaps not all

that usual—and this helps.

But not as much, I find

as a cup of good, well-brewed

tea, taken from a china pot,

sipped from a thin porcelain

cup with saucer, all adorned

with my beloved violets. Sitting

in a quiet room, watching

rain pour down, turning the

tiny creek behind the house

into a rushing stream, while

surrounded by cats and a dog.

There, in the quiet stillness,

gazing on the green lushness of

Spring in the rain, surrounded

by uncomplicated love, enjoying

a perfect cup of tea,

I find peace.

It fills me up, pushing out

the stress, the worry,

the complications that fill

my life.  The depleted tank

of compassion is refilled.

I think of Love, of Art,

of Poetry, and am calm.

Peaceful. Healed. Restored.

Ready to once again face the world,

give of my time, my knowledge,

my love. Making the world better,

more peaceful, more loving,

until once again, it is time

to retreat to my tea, my quiet,

my companions and find peace.

“Carson-Newman College, Summer ‘78”

I have missed over a week thanks to a challenge at work, and even tonight, I cheat. I wrote this for Napowrimo  4 years ago. But today's march for science made me remember this girl.

“Carson-Newman College, Summer ‘78”

Once upon a time, I was a girl who wrote a paper on

“The Effects of Triacontanol on the Total Lipid Content of Wheat Plants.”

Triacontanol, a fatty alcohol, C₃₀H₆₂O.

Once I could even draw a picture of its molecules.

Cutting edge research back then. Something new to help food yields.

National Science Foundation, Summer Science Training Program.

Working in a team, we each took a component: protein, lipids, carbohydrates.

But first we grew the wheat from seed, carefully applying different concentrations.

On the roof of the science building, a greenhouse hot as blazes.

Plants needed nurturing: watered twice a day, fed, measured, protected.

Mice loved to eat the tender green shoots.  Dr. Naylor killed one with a broom.

One hard thwack and no more mouse.  His glee at its death shook me badly.

Then harvested, ground, lipids extracted. The hood fan was off;

I entertained lab mates with half-mast eyes and slurred speech.

Gas chromatography to do the counts.

Preparing the plates for the reading took a day. Palest blue polymer gel.

Who was that girl? Just reading the specs of a chromatograph today

Leaves my eyes glazed.  What happened to her? She loved being in the lab.

Loved using the words that sounded so smart because deep down, she was, too.

But rarely got the chance to show it.

That small Baptist school in a little Tennessee town ironically liberating.

Her first taste of what it was like to be one of many instead of one alone.

That once upon a time girl retreated to the comfort of words.

After a scientific start, majored in English: a 180° turn occasionally regretted.

If honest, more often than occasionally lately. The humanities will kill you.

Today I am a woman who tells students, females especially:

STEM, the only way to go. Science, technology, engineering, math.

If you want a job, remember STEM. I am glad to be that woman.

But where was she when I needed her to remind me

Of the joy of donning a lab coat, goggles and gloves?