I'm on the homestretch, or close to it, with Willem and the Werewolf, but I actually do have a poem about a favorite teacher. This one was published in Iowa Review, in their Donald Justice tribute issue.
IOWA CITY, 1962
Donald Justice playing softball, dark shades cloaking his courtliness like a bandit’s mask on an
owl, but he’ll not be courtly for long anyway: a call goes against him, and his cheeks flame,
his arm goes up in a pumping protest against the vagaries of wind, spin, fingertips’ torque –
the only subtleties to elude him? I so wanted to be like him then, perhaps even
up to and including that innocence, that wild softball passion, that one hapless assurance.
My love of poetry was inspired as she taught us to Read poems as they were meant to be Shared her passion and
Her love of all things poetic Overflowed like rain watering the Flowers that lined the sidewalks and Filled the cracks in the broken pavement. She taught us to love the rhyme and rhythm of these Tomes that told stories in vignettes and verse Each a piece to be loved - cherished Tales of love and beauty as well as Taking us through history and wars. Every poem I write was inspired by this Remarkable woman...my teacher, my friend.
wish i'd had a teacher like that. my english teacher was an idiot and my physics teacher always smelled of whiskey. my education started when i left school - love - paul.
No teacher ever inspired me, mostly they hurt my feelings at one time or another. You were very lucky to have one who gave you something so wonderful. Well written
I guess the reason I didn't see it for the Acrostic that it is, is because I wasn't expecting it. I think in most of your other Acrostics, you name them in capital letters. I don't know, maybe I'm wrong but that is what I mean about your Acrostics, they are so good and poetic that unless I'm looking for it, I don't notice....
Yup, using capitals at the beginning of the lines cued me to the Acrostic since you never do that otherwise. LOL. Very nicely done. And it's the reason I didn't have a poem. The theme is very similar to the one I was writing about Miss Lombard (minus the acrostic, LOL) and saying very similar things. Yours is much better than any of my attempts.
just to clarify. if i'd known about library ladies when i was younger, i wouldn't have wasted my time in night clubs.
LIBRARY LADIES
the lovely charlotte left the library happy holly was too classy for me clare is probably my best friend and like me doesn't watch the tele large linda loves her garden she tends lynn looks exactly like liza minnelli
tiny catherine always dresses in yellow and black she looks like a bee looks over her glasses at me her smile nearly gives me a heart attack
clare dresses as a bunny for children's reading club her hopping is so funny told her " watch your cotton tail bub "
gemma's cardigans are getting out of hand she must have more cardy's than any woman in this land
never liked my teachers to my time and mind they were leeches.
you could have left off the last two lines since the entire poem, except for those lines, is dedicated to the library ladies. they all sound like interesting characters.
just thought i'd tag it on the end. my teachers are only worth two lines anyway. thanks bonita. clare says i spend more time in this library than she does and she works here - love paul.
The librarians probably know you just as well as you know them! They all have charm and personality. You could write a bunch of library lady books with you as the lover and don't use any real names and have a fictional relationship with each and every one of them. That was actually a pretty cute poem.
Wonderful portraits, I agree with Bonnie, the last two lines do not belong. Write another about the teachers if you wish but don't pollute your lovely ladies with that negative stuff.
thanks wolfie. i may in fact have enough library lady poems for a book. clare got in to trouble from her boss. she is just supposed to get me a computer, but we sit talking for an hour and eating chocolate. naughty me ha ha - love paul.
i agree tash. i'll try a teachers poem, but it will be as bitter as lemon juice. the only thing i learned in school was that i didn't want to be there. me and my friend used to escape from school over a fence and hide out on the golf course - love - paul.
Ruth is the one that hates humans but loves animals She tells me about the arseholes upstairs constantly having loud sex Shes got the facelines of an alcoholic But for someone who hates humans, she sure has time for me.
Karen is as rotund and prone to exaggeration as Ruth is thin and worn. Karen will tell you at length about the “acreage” she lives on. Karen always talks, always superficially bubbly – mostly whining through all the artifice. Whenever I listen to her, I always imagine how I could NOT live with this woman. Sometimes I think I should cut her a break, I mean under all the craft/knitting talk and the constant whining – she probably has a good heart. Yes. Karen is okay. But like so many others of that name. God damn annoying.
Christopher Pickering – he’s my favourite by far. We found out quite by accident that not ONLY do we live on the same street We have the same birthday. We also have the same politics. And he lets me watch endless documentaries in one of the viewing rooms, every day. I think he’s one of the reasons I did History at uni…. I like Chris, I wonder where he is, and what he’s doing now? Last I heard he was heading up one of the major unions on the southcoast. And we have lefty friends in common.
Someday I suspect ill run into him again, when he’s reading the history books in the aisles upstairs mid putting back the returns. Ill run into Chris, and we’ll just smile. Kindred spirits at the library.
oh Millie!!! this is wonderful!!! you gave me so many smiles as you shared these interesting people with us. So happy to see you here and hope you keep posting your awesome poems.
g'day millmeister. welcome to the site my old friend ( well you aren't that old ha ha ). i know you have some hassles to deal with but stick around. you are always welcome here. excellent poem. summing up people in a few sentences is tricky isn't it - love and peace - paul.
i could go on about library ladies...probably endlessly. but it is teachers as well. unfortunately i didn't have any good teachers, so it's bad ones. i know. not in the spirit of my own promt.
left school when i was fifteen caught up in emotional tangles had no interest in the internal angles of triangles didn't want grey. i wanted green
the books were a bore the " teachers " even more go on mr johnson, be sadistic to the slow child any wonder he turned out to be wild
realised i was smarter than my teachers and would much rather sit drinking with a lady on beaches
escaped when i was fifteen joined the post office by lying about my age my life needed a new page more money than i could spend on bliss my education wasn't worth a bean entered the world sight unseen.
exactly tash. my education started when i left school. thrown in at the deep end too. with a crazy girlfriend, getting up at 4.30am, taxes and such at fifteen can be tricky - love - paul.
I tried two different new poems for this. Neither got finished. Now I'm a week late and still don't have a poem. So, here's an old teacher poem that includes teachers other than me.
HUDDLED MASSES a pantoum
A fire drill at 8 below zero must not be a drill. Those are announced. We are in shirtsleeves, sweaters at best. Kids can’t go to lockers. Straight outside.
Must not be a drill, those are announced, I hear another teacher saying. Kids can’t go to lockers, straight outside, but this teacher is wearing a coat.
I hear another teacher saying. Good thing my coat was in the room. But this teacher is wearing a coat while her students shiver in the cold.
Good thing my coat was in the room I share, not here with me. I call kids, while her students shiver in the cold, suggest we huddle close together.
I share. Not here with me, I call kids, the ones wandering away from the group, suggest we huddle close together, get cold looks, disgust, in response from
the ones wandering away from the group. The ones closest move closer still, touch; get cold looks, disgust, in response from others at first. It is warmer, so
the ones closest move closer still, touch. Jason, in shirtsleeves, skinny arms shake others at first. It is warmer, so everyone calms down, huddles closer.
Jason, in shirtsleeves, skinny arms shake, encircled by classmates, gets warmer. Everyone calms down, huddles closer. We laugh, complain we can’t feel our ears.
Encircled by classmates, gets warmer. We are in shirtsleeves, sweaters at best. We laugh, complain we can’t feel our ears. A fire drill at 8 below zero.
I'm on the homestretch, or close to it, with Willem and the Werewolf, but I actually do have a poem about a favorite teacher. This one was published in Iowa Review, in their Donald Justice tribute issue.
ReplyDeleteIOWA CITY, 1962
Donald Justice playing
softball, dark shades
cloaking his courtliness
like a bandit’s mask on an
owl, but he’ll not be
courtly for long
anyway: a call goes
against him, and his cheeks flame,
his arm goes up in a
pumping protest
against the vagaries
of wind, spin, fingertips’ torque –
the only subtleties
to elude him?
I so wanted to be
like him then, perhaps even
up to and including
that innocence,
that wild softball passion,
that one hapless assurance.
omg! this is so sweet! I loved reading it and it left me with a smile in my heart. Beautifully written!
Deletenever played softball. sounds like fun - paul.
DeleteBonnie's right, this is sweet! Very enjoyable and written with an pleasant heart.
DeleteNice poem. You are so Talented.
DeleteIt's interesting to see poets in other roles, so animated in playing softball.
DeleteMy love of poetry was inspired as she taught us to
ReplyDeleteRead poems as they were meant to be
Shared her passion and
Her love of all things poetic
Overflowed like rain watering the
Flowers that lined the sidewalks and
Filled the cracks in the broken pavement.
She taught us to love the rhyme and rhythm of these
Tomes that told stories in vignettes and verse
Each a piece to be loved - cherished
Tales of love and beauty as well as
Taking us through history and wars.
Every poem I write was inspired by this
Remarkable woman...my teacher, my friend.
wish i'd had a teacher like that. my english teacher was an idiot and my physics teacher always smelled of whiskey. my education started when i left school - love - paul.
DeleteA loving, moving tribute. On the nuts and bolts side of things, I very much like your line structure here, and your use of enjambments.
DeleteNo teacher ever inspired me, mostly they hurt my feelings at one time or another. You were very lucky to have one who gave you something so wonderful. Well written
DeleteMarvelous portrait and song of praise. What is an enjambment? I thought the metaphor was wonderful!
Deleteno Tasha...it's an acrostic... the first letter of each line (in caps) spells out the teachers name reading down.
DeleteI guess the reason I didn't see it for the Acrostic that it is, is because I wasn't expecting it. I think in most of your other Acrostics, you name them in capital letters. I don't know, maybe I'm wrong but that is what I mean about your Acrostics, they are so good and poetic that unless I'm looking for it, I don't notice....
DeleteI did name her in capital letters. read down the first letter of each line. it's right there.
DeleteYup, using capitals at the beginning of the lines cued me to the Acrostic since you never do that otherwise. LOL. Very nicely done. And it's the reason I didn't have a poem. The theme is very similar to the one I was writing about Miss Lombard (minus the acrostic, LOL) and saying very similar things. Yours is much better than any of my attempts.
Deletejust to clarify. if i'd known about library ladies when i was younger, i wouldn't have wasted my time in night clubs.
ReplyDeleteLIBRARY LADIES
the lovely charlotte left the library
happy holly was too classy for me
clare is probably my best friend
and like me doesn't watch the tele
large linda loves her garden she tends
lynn looks exactly like liza minnelli
tiny catherine always dresses in yellow and black
she looks like a bee
looks over her glasses at me
her smile nearly gives me a heart attack
clare dresses as a bunny
for children's reading club
her hopping is so funny
told her " watch your cotton tail bub "
gemma's cardigans are getting out of hand
she must have more cardy's than any woman in this land
never liked my teachers
to my time and mind they were leeches.
you could have left off the last two lines since the entire poem, except for those lines, is dedicated to the library ladies. they all sound like interesting characters.
Deletejust thought i'd tag it on the end. my teachers are only worth two lines anyway. thanks bonita. clare says i spend more time in this library than she does and she works here - love paul.
Deletethanks tad. each of these ladies has her own poem, so i had to condense it all for one poem - thanks mate - paul.
DeleteThe librarians probably know you just as well as you know them! They all have charm and personality. You could write a bunch of library lady books with you as the lover and don't use any real names and have a fictional relationship with each and every one of them. That was actually a pretty cute poem.
DeleteWonderful portraits, I agree with Bonnie, the last two lines do not belong. Write another about the teachers if you wish but don't pollute your lovely ladies with that negative stuff.
Deletethanks wolfie. i may in fact have enough library lady poems for a book. clare got in to trouble from her boss. she is just supposed to get me a computer, but we sit talking for an hour and eating chocolate. naughty me ha ha - love paul.
Deletei agree tash. i'll try a teachers poem, but it will be as bitter as lemon juice. the only thing i learned in school was that i didn't want to be there. me and my friend used to escape from school over a fence and hide out on the golf course - love - paul.
DeleteI agree with Bonnie. You don't need the last two lines. And as Tad said, I like the mini-portrait aspect of it.
DeleteNice mini-portraits that add up to a library.
ReplyDeleteRuth is the one that hates humans but loves animals
ReplyDeleteShe tells me about the arseholes upstairs constantly having loud sex
Shes got the facelines of an alcoholic
But for someone who hates humans, she sure has time for me.
Karen is as rotund and prone to exaggeration as Ruth is thin and worn.
Karen will tell you at length about the “acreage” she lives on.
Karen always talks, always superficially bubbly – mostly whining through all the artifice.
Whenever I listen to her, I always imagine how I could NOT live with this woman.
Sometimes I think I should cut her a break, I mean under all the craft/knitting talk and the constant whining – she probably has a good heart.
Yes. Karen is okay. But like so many others of that name.
God damn annoying.
Christopher Pickering – he’s my favourite by far.
We found out quite by accident that not ONLY do we live on the same street
We have the same birthday.
We also have the same politics.
And he lets me watch endless documentaries in one of the viewing rooms, every day.
I think he’s one of the reasons I did History at uni….
I like Chris, I wonder where he is, and what he’s doing now?
Last I heard he was heading up one of the major unions on the southcoast.
And we have lefty friends in common.
Someday I suspect ill run into him again,
when he’s reading the history books in the aisles upstairs
mid putting back the returns.
Ill run into Chris, and we’ll just smile.
Kindred spirits at the library.
oh Millie!!! this is wonderful!!! you gave me so many smiles as you shared these interesting people with us. So happy to see you here and hope you keep posting your awesome poems.
DeleteYes! You kept me smiling, Millie! I remember your style. You are a very fun addition to our little club here. I sure hope you hang around....
DeleteWelcome and thank you for this lovely poem with its interesting stories. Good job.
Deleteg'day millmeister. welcome to the site my old friend ( well you aren't that old ha ha ). i know you have some hassles to deal with but stick around. you are always welcome here. excellent poem. summing up people in a few sentences is tricky isn't it - love and peace - paul.
DeleteLove this, and WELCOME. I always love having poets join us here!
DeleteMy Favorite Teacher
ReplyDeleteI did not learn to read or write,
add or subtract or spell a word,
instead I learned to be polite
to flower and tree, to ant and bird.
I learned to honor wind and rain,
dance in the waves, bow to the sun,
climb up a tree and down again,
to lose my way and find my fun.
My teacher Mother Nature is'
she taught me things I treasure still
to wait and see what happens next
or seek beyond the farthest hill.
She sang to me her songs of birth
and death as well for all must die.
She taught me every creature's worth
the same as you, the same as I.
I treasure all I learned from her
I'll sing her songs, I'll pass along
Her wondrous tales of fish and fur
of worm and bee, or right and wrong.
And when at last my time is done
I'll thank my teacher with all my heart
and hope to honor every one
who joined with her to play their part.
My favorite teacher teaches those
who wish to learn her wondrous ways
and like a seed that roots and grows
her gifts embellish all their days.
nice tash. mother nature was my only teacher too. i liked climbing trees too....it was the getting back down bit that was difficult - love - paul.
DeleteThank you so much!
DeleteThank you, Paul, I feel so happy to have that kind comment.
Deletevery pretty
DeleteI like reading pretty little bits and pieces of your life.
DeleteAnd I like yours as well, both of you. So interesting to getto know someone through poetry. Many thanks.
DeleteGreat take on the prompt. I wish you'd have waited a bit longer to say Mother Nature is your teacher.
DeleteI like this a lot. The scansion is right throughout, the rhymes feel,natural, and the message develops beautifully.
ReplyDeletei could go on about library ladies...probably endlessly. but it is teachers as well. unfortunately i didn't have any good teachers, so it's bad ones. i know. not in the spirit of my own promt.
DeleteSCHOOL DAZE
" hey teacher!! leave those kids alone " - pink floyd.
left school when i was fifteen
caught up in emotional tangles
had no interest in the internal angles
of triangles
didn't want grey. i wanted green
the books were a bore
the " teachers " even more
go on mr johnson, be sadistic to the slow child
any wonder he turned out to be wild
realised i was smarter than my teachers
and would much rather sit drinking with a lady on beaches
escaped when i was fifteen
joined the post office
by lying about my age
my life needed a new page
more money than i could spend on bliss
my education wasn't worth a bean
entered the world sight unseen.
An honest poem and a good one. Thanks! Your education was not in actual school but in the school of life.
Deleteexactly tash. my education started when i left school. thrown in at the deep end too. with a crazy girlfriend, getting up at 4.30am, taxes and such at fifteen can be tricky - love - paul.
DeleteI'm sorry you had such bad teachers. My elementary school teachers saved me.
DeleteWhen Daryl's on shift at the library
ReplyDeletethat's usually when I like to go
she always fixes my late books
and makes them look on time
Daryl likes to smile a lot
and make everyone feel welcome
there are usually lots of Amish there
on nights that Daryl works
she has the best story hour
there have been days I've sat
with the little children
just to hear the stories she reads
she reads with such excitement
I told her she should get a
night job reading into a tape player
books on tape for children
But her second job is Dollar General
our town is very small
We get to see Daryl all over the place
and she's ready with a smile
What a fine librarian she is. Thanks for the portrait.Good one!
Deletelovely!!! is Daryl around our age? she sounds like a Daryl I know from Erie
DeleteSounds like a great person. And it seems a shame a librarian can't make ends me without a second job.
DeleteI tried two different new poems for this. Neither got finished. Now I'm a week late and still don't have a poem. So, here's an old teacher poem that includes teachers other than me.
ReplyDeleteHUDDLED MASSES
a pantoum
A fire drill at 8 below zero
must not be a drill. Those are announced.
We are in shirtsleeves, sweaters at best.
Kids can’t go to lockers. Straight outside.
Must not be a drill, those are announced,
I hear another teacher saying.
Kids can’t go to lockers, straight outside,
but this teacher is wearing a coat.
I hear another teacher saying.
Good thing my coat was in the room.
But this teacher is wearing a coat
while her students shiver in the cold.
Good thing my coat was in the room
I share, not here with me. I call kids,
while her students shiver in the cold,
suggest we huddle close together.
I share. Not here with me, I call kids,
the ones wandering away from the group,
suggest we huddle close together,
get cold looks, disgust, in response from
the ones wandering away from the group.
The ones closest move closer still, touch;
get cold looks, disgust, in response from
others at first. It is warmer, so
the ones closest move closer still, touch.
Jason, in shirtsleeves, skinny arms shake
others at first. It is warmer, so
everyone calms down, huddles closer.
Jason, in shirtsleeves, skinny arms shake,
encircled by classmates, gets warmer.
Everyone calms down, huddles closer.
We laugh, complain we can’t feel our ears.
Encircled by classmates, gets warmer.
We are in shirtsleeves, sweaters at best.
We laugh, complain we can’t feel our ears.
A fire drill at 8 below zero.
wow! wonderful portrait of the event. I felt I was right there in shirtsleeves shivering in the cold. love this one.
Delete