Tonight's Poet Corner: Introspection
It could be a flimsy product of a very tired mind,
but for this week's introspection, I've decided I should rhyme.
You may as well put your brain through Hell just to try poetic craft,
and if this doesn't end up deep, maybe it'll make the few of you laugh.
So my work is super daunting and takes a lot of time out of my day.
I didn't think I'd say this, but I kind of like it that way.
Nine hours of being at a school may seem like major deja vu,
but with the progress of my job, I'm feeling far from blue.
Because some of it is serious and some of it is fun,
from the good old CPS training to legos in the sun.
And the thirteen girls I teach each day to become better readers
have a long year ahead of them, but I'm sure I can make them leaders.
With my novel done, my blog's number one in sporadic creative shrapnel,
though I finally joined the Tumblr, which serves as another cyber grapnel,*
so that's Blogger, Facebook, Tumblr, Myspace, Youtube all a flutter,
while the constant need for good stories and music churns like butter.
But I find my roots once in a while without my old computer.
See, I take time to write down my work by pen, my classic suitor
'cause there's something quite romantic, somehow, when the ink appears on paper -
even if I typed the poem up first, I still scrawl it with trusty taper.
True, some days are rougher than others. Take annoying tests, for example,
that I have to work with kids on, and the frustrations are ample.
With such adversity from politicians and pseudo-scholars galore,
it's no wonder that education doesn't have much luck anymore.
But I love the people, and I love the fact that I can serve as mentor
to my students, friends, and family who in my heart dwell dead center.
And mo chuisle, as she always does, helps me conquer my fears.
Even though she's far away again, her voice lingers in my ears.
The "I love yous" and "You'll be okays" never felt more of a pleasure
to my raging gray cerebral thoughts. Yes, her passion is my treasure.
And while it is sometimes difficult to keep in touch with old friends,
I remember them through my daily routine, all beginnings and all ends.
That's my life, I suppose, for now, at least. A familiar c'est la vie.
Let me strike a note with the writer's quote - with love, to you from me.
Writer's Quotation of the Night:
There is nothing to write about, you say. Well then, write and let me know just this - that there is nothing to write about; or tell me in the good old style if you are well. That's right. I am quite well.
- Pliny the Younger
Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.
*Yes, grapnel is actually a word. It's a grappling hook (or, in the faithful words of Dictionary.com, a "small anchor with several flukes").
but for this week's introspection, I've decided I should rhyme.
You may as well put your brain through Hell just to try poetic craft,
and if this doesn't end up deep, maybe it'll make the few of you laugh.
So my work is super daunting and takes a lot of time out of my day.
I didn't think I'd say this, but I kind of like it that way.
Nine hours of being at a school may seem like major deja vu,
but with the progress of my job, I'm feeling far from blue.
Because some of it is serious and some of it is fun,
from the good old CPS training to legos in the sun.
And the thirteen girls I teach each day to become better readers
have a long year ahead of them, but I'm sure I can make them leaders.
With my novel done, my blog's number one in sporadic creative shrapnel,
though I finally joined the Tumblr, which serves as another cyber grapnel,*
so that's Blogger, Facebook, Tumblr, Myspace, Youtube all a flutter,
while the constant need for good stories and music churns like butter.
But I find my roots once in a while without my old computer.
See, I take time to write down my work by pen, my classic suitor
'cause there's something quite romantic, somehow, when the ink appears on paper -
even if I typed the poem up first, I still scrawl it with trusty taper.
True, some days are rougher than others. Take annoying tests, for example,
that I have to work with kids on, and the frustrations are ample.
With such adversity from politicians and pseudo-scholars galore,
it's no wonder that education doesn't have much luck anymore.
But I love the people, and I love the fact that I can serve as mentor
to my students, friends, and family who in my heart dwell dead center.
And mo chuisle, as she always does, helps me conquer my fears.
Even though she's far away again, her voice lingers in my ears.
The "I love yous" and "You'll be okays" never felt more of a pleasure
to my raging gray cerebral thoughts. Yes, her passion is my treasure.
And while it is sometimes difficult to keep in touch with old friends,
I remember them through my daily routine, all beginnings and all ends.
That's my life, I suppose, for now, at least. A familiar c'est la vie.
Let me strike a note with the writer's quote - with love, to you from me.
Writer's Quotation of the Night:
There is nothing to write about, you say. Well then, write and let me know just this - that there is nothing to write about; or tell me in the good old style if you are well. That's right. I am quite well.
- Pliny the Younger
Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.
*Yes, grapnel is actually a word. It's a grappling hook (or, in the faithful words of Dictionary.com, a "small anchor with several flukes").
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