Gluten Free Cookies

At Ethical ELA today, we are challenged to write an etheree consisting of ten lines with each line’s syllabication increasing by one.   I wrote about preparing for the big eating holiday looming. 

If

You love

Someone who must

Not eat gluten flour

You will find a way

To make  yummy Italian Ricotta cookies

Substituting gluten flour for pricey almond flour

Smiling broadly at your accomplishment adapting the ingredients

So that everyone will be included in the gluttony

That we call holiday eating till stuffed without side effects. 

sol25 April 25 That Fall

This month, I've been preoccupied with the daily news; yet, I've found  strength in reading about how others have overcome challenges (Boat Baby).  Today, I'm writing about a challenging time. My mini-memoir.

Fall is still my favorite,

Yet, that year,

As the leaves put on their show,

My marriage ended,

My family disintegrated,

I welcomed grandchildren,

My home base became my car.

My days and nights were a blur

Newborn snuggles, interspersed with hospice care.  

As the seeds of spring took root,

The leaves put on that final show,

She sat in her rocker,

We watched Rachel Ray and talked. Then,

My mother passed in the night.

I sat quietly as her caregiver packed and left

Noticing the leaves giving up,

I sat quietly, reflecting as people came and went.

Watching the leaves falling slowly.

I sat quietly, reflecting, feeling exhausted as 

My sister emptied the pills.

Were the leaves grieving in their own way?

I sat quietly, reflecting, feeling exhausted and empty as

The leaves covered the ground.

Into A Good Book

Today's Ethical ELA prompt asks us to think about a place that feels like a safe harbor to you – and bring that space alive in a poem.   I could have written about beaches where the rhythm of the sea brings me great peace; however, if I am really honest my own safe haven has always been inside a book.

After a harrowing dentist visit,

The door opened,

The delicious reward,

They sat waiting patiently,

I escaped.

We moved again,

The emptiness, overwhelming,

The fears, plentiful,

Nancy Drew, Cherry Ames, The Bobbsey Twins 

Were waiting,

I rejoined my friends.

As a mom

The Lorax called,

The Little House on the Prairie cried out,

The Pitcher with the Glass Arm beckoned,

They were waiting for us,

I savored every word.

As a Meme (pronounced me-me)

The Little Blue Truck never fails,

Fancy Nancy has a lot to say,

Charlotte's Web, one more time.

So many books, so little time,

I know it will not last.

When the news is too much to bear,

The Women and Boat Baby, 

Something Lost and Something Gained 

Remind me that the tide will turn.

I slide under the covers and escape.

Armenian Genocide Remembrance Day

Over at Ethical ELA today we are remembering the Armenian Genocide—a systematic attempt to erase a people, a culture, and a history. But remembrance is not only about loss; it is also about survival, resilience, and honoring those who carried their stories forward. It is one of the many parts of history representing man's inhumanity towards man that is not always part of the curriculum. 

I believe it is impossible to eliminate the seeds of the human spirit. 

They tried to eradicate the resistance

Leaving a trail of blood, tears.

They ended, upended lives

Destroyed families, culture.

They tried to say it never happened

There was no targeted deportation.

There was no genocide. 

They did not know that history

Would remember and condemn their hate.

The seeds of the human spirit remain

In the souls of all those with Armenian blood

In the hearts of all those with empathy

In the spirit of all those who stop to remember.

He Made a Difference

Today's Ethical ELA prompt asked us to select a formative literacy memory. 

I started to write about students having that "ahha" moment of flight as they took off as readers.  Then I drafted a short post about decorating my first writer's notebook during a summer teacher workshop.  But, this still painful memory of learning to be a writer as a member of the Baby Boom generation kept surfacing, and I went with it. 

We packed into classrooms like sardines into tins,

Learned to listen and regurgitate information, ideas.

Endured multiple choice, one word responses.

We discussed an unpopular war,

Analyzed classic, modern literature

Graded by multiple choice, one word responses.

I was on top of the pile of students

Until in that first English Literature paper

Covered in red, emblazoned with See Me.

I swallowed my pride,

Wandered into the TA's office

Learned to write college-level responses.

In my defense, I had written only in a journal, 

Never defended my thoughts for a grade,

Never learned to be a writer. 

In his defense, he could have just written me off

Let me fail,

But, he was a teacher who made a difference.

That First To Us Place

In Ethical ELA today, we are encouraged to write for two minutes about a memory.

It's a long-ag-happy memory even if it was a basement apartment! 

Most people went up the stairs

Sunlight fueled their journeys.

We went below ground into a dark basement,
Where coin-operated washers hummed into the night

Where we never saw the sun rise or set,

Where we slept on the floor,

Yet, we learned to work together

Cooking, cleaning, loving,

In that first-to-us-place. 

Harbingers of Spring

Joanne Emery's at http://www.ethicalela.com encourages us to look closely at something in nature.  here.

It's an ironic twist, 

The early, forced ones arrive,

Rewards for donations

Fighting cancer, 

He always loved them.

While it is still too cold for flowers,

More emerge braving wind and rain

Bringing hope for spring.

Canary yellow blooms against the bleak landscape.

"Harbingers of spring," he would say,

"They will be gone too soon," I think,

Like him.

Depending on When You Met Me

In response to a prompt on Ethical ELA this morning,

Here is my much-too-long story on how things would be different

depending on when you met me!

https://www.ethicalela.com/depending-on-when-you-met-me/

Depending on when you met me

I might have been living in a trailer,

Sleeping with my sister, next to my brother's crib.

I might have been living across the street

From missiles poised to intercept Communism.

Or I might have been settled in

Selma learning, first hand, about

Prejudice, cruelty, and racism.

Depending on when you met me

I might have been protesting on a quad

Long hair blowing in the wind.

I might have been traversing the Beltway

Pretending to be a teacher, 30 first graders.

Or I might have been rejected after another

Interview with no reason.

I might have been a mom of little ones,

Struggling to manage laundry, dishes, the lawn

As well as all those students who depended on me.

I might have been the mom of bigger ones

Trying in vain to attend cold baseball games,

Baking while watching track meets, and 

As well as drowning, in IEPs, lesson plans,

While writing curriculum maps.

Or I might have been juggling writing a dissertation

During college football season while care-giving

Parents and teaching both elementary students and 

Graduate students.

I might have been retired from some of my jobs,

Recovering from loss of a partner, plans, dreams.

I might have been

In a new state, new city, new home,

Guiding, supporting and cheer-leading a new crop

Of those pretending to be teachers.

I might have at the gym swimming or exercising

Embracing new friends

Thinking of protesting, again,

In shorter, grayer, hair!

SOL25 Presence

 

I have been following the amazing poets

At Ethical ELA.  Today, I am bravely sharing.

You knew it was coming

As you traveled the parkway,

As you passed the never-moving

Mack Truck,

As you 

Paused in the elevator

Yet, it would hit you

As you stepped into the hallway.

The smell.

Carefully selected,

Cooked for hours,

Sliced paper thin,

With repugnant mint jelly.

After a lifetime of birthing,

Raising her gaggle,

Struggling to survive farm-life,

Watching them disperse, 

It was all she had left for

The last grandchildren.

I think of her now

As I share Crayola & Gerald,

Embrace Pokeman & Minecraft,

Grateful that I have something left.

Someday, I hope,

I will leave mine

With memories

Not of leg-of-lamb,

But of my presence.

sol25 April 1 Real Life Intervened

 

I was going to start April

With a Foolish Slice,

Real Life Intervened

The sky was dark

The lights flickering

As I brewed Lemon Ginger.

The thunder was deafening

The lightning spell-binding

As I settled to read end-March slices.

I connected, commented, smiled,

Reflected, wondered, agreed,

Enjoyed the afterglow

As the storm raged outside

Until the lights and internet

Declared the month done.

No more reading

No more commenting

For now,

Yet, a sound and light show

Beckoning attention

Heralding April Poetry.