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| Just Before Wandering
His David smacked the Goliath out of me,
knocked me backward
and I tumbled into somewhere else
adrift on a makeshift
raft on the Nile,
the murky mud waters licking
rough-hewn planks, driving
ragged splinters into my knees and hands
while the stink of decaying tiger fish invaded
my sinuses.
"You're nothing without me,"
he insidiously whispered, whittling
me down to a shaving of myself.
The notion covered me
like a great tsunami bent on destruction.
Gurgling, sputtering, I wiped it all away.
I am the desert—
dry and desolate.
"You're nothing without me."
You're nothing without me.
~ ~ ~ ~
My juniors are writing poetry this week and next. One of my tasks for them is to write a poem in which they use all of the following elements:
symbolism
assonance
simile
metaphor
repetition
rhyme (internal, slant, or end)
allusion
imagery
onomatopoeia
personification
alliteration
hyperbole
I'm a total bitch, aren't I? hehehe Even if their poems aren't good, by golly gosh darn it, they're going to know these terms inside and out. 
Anyway, the above is my example for them. I wrote it tonight on an Applebee's napkin while discussing the assignment with a fellow English teacher, who's got the same assignment going for her sophomores.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
So what the heck IS that poem about up there? The extended metaphor deals with me versus Jesus, and the whole Christian community's response to my leaving their religion and wandering off to be with the Jews.
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| Hi, kiddos!
I just happened over here and saw some recent comments. How 'bout that? hehe Yes, I've been slacking. I haven't had a single inspiration to write a single thing lately. Dry as a bone. I'm terribly sorry.
I do appreciate you stopping by. I mean, I REALLY do. Makes me very happy. Sadly I have nothing to entertain you with right now. But if you subscribe to me, whenever I do write something new, it'll show up for you.
Ah, that's the best I can tell ya. I must get back to work now. Must eat my applesauce.
-jen | | |
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Spring Break Can't Come Soon Enough
Admonishing the class, I hiss, "Shhh—"
"-it," he interjects, fiendishly pouncing upon my last nerve.
I count slowly,
exhaling, so
that I don't leap across the room to...
No. I'm fine.
No lawsuits needed here.
"Why aren't you wearing your black dress today?"
inquires someone in the next class.
"What black dress?"
"The one you always wear."
(I have one black dress this season, and I've worn
it three times in the last five months.)
I inhale deeply so that my sharp
tongue doesn't leave a bloody 'M' across
his cheek.
"What are we doing today?" Chad asks, standing at my
desk, picking up various items,
inspecting them nosily,
putting them back down in the wrong damn places.
"It's written under 'Today's Agenda' on the board, in the
same spot I write it every day," leaks out of me
through clenched teeth
in an even, deliberate tone,
attempting to contain my need
to throttle — oh
Was I this bad in high school?
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Turnabout
When I reflect upon your long-anticipated failure,
as a lover,
human being,
my gut plunges into my stomach over and over,
bungee-like,
barring that sweetness I'd been marking to savor.
Goody-two-shoes in a red negligee on my shoulder
vexingly tsk-tsk's her tongue at me.
'My turn,' I wheedle.
See, that prickly rusty screw that was
driven into my heart,
then yanked out,
corroded in acid,
and shoved back in, slightly off-center for good measure—
well, I know right where I want to stick it.
I know a delicious place for its new home.
| | |
| Broken Thermostat
“It’s hot!”
each new class proclaims loudly, unhappily.
I answer with a hyperbolic eye roll
and an 80º F sigh.
“Broken again?”
accuses the stentorian Triniecea from her formica desk
across the room, as if I planned it myself
to torture her.
“It smells!”
It only smells of wood— sawdust,
if you ask me,
chewed-up carcasses of brand new No. 2 pencils
that my sharpener gorges on ravenously
just to spite Rayshawn and IveryLee.
O maintenance, come down from your
majestic throne on high (or Central Office,
wherever you happen to be)
if your resplendentness
permits sympathy at all.
Rescue me, I beg—
before the next class arrives. | | |
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