But the hour comes and it’s night, I find to a quiet corner to hear myself reason, think to write — a sort of secret passion.
They say that the eyes
are windows to the soul,
crystal clues of truth,
but in yours they're black holes,
pensively deep, sweet
and I am core shaken,
captivated and nulled.
I built a Greek column
A Tuscan column to be precise
It's about three floors in height
I used materials I didn't know I owned
Shimmering and glistening small white oval pebbles
Flat and fat ones
Sand, best of its kind
Limestone with all its magical properties
And Nautilus shells from the beaches of Callao.
I wish I have built it for looks only
But I did it for me
It fits well between my neck and naval line
For when my earthquakes threaten my core
sunday chocolate, lion flowers
kisses on cheeks, kisses on cheeks
gentle tears that hug a face
largely incomplete. this isn't the whole poem, not the whole picture either, this is a piece of a piece of something huge, and i surprised myself by crying as i wrote it. the rest of the poem will exist when it's ready to. i'll come back to this. i have to. but for now, this thing needs to exist as it is. this is just the beginning.
Like an earthquake, like thunder
Like a wave or rainstorm
Your words hit me with power
Shook me to my core
Shaped me into something
I wasn't before
It moved me, it changed me
It caused me to soar
But whatever goes up
Will always come down
So as waves crash to the sand
Or a wolf finds a lamb
I fell hard to the ground
And forgot how to stand
Oh, the interesting part.
My heart lies torn and numb, black to the core
It’s so lucky I’ve got a thousand more
Her relinquished love
Her very core
Came to an end
Fighting on the front lines
With red pens
For independent thought,
For common sense
Not Common Core
This is a battle in a bureaucratic war we’re losing
Keep pushing and shoving against an impenetrable wall
But we’re only foot soldiers, not actually giving orders
Kids look down on us and they ask,
“Will this be on the test?”
“Get out of my face.”
Here’s what I wonder: Why is “mistake” a forbidden word?
Taught by parent(s) to resist.
These are Kids who fail to create
But recite, recall, and retaliate
School is no longer a safe haven
Testing, testing, 1-2-3 hundred murdered students, teachers
Safety off and then off
Hanging by a thread and losing the grip a little more every day
Following the curriculum map to X marks the standardized test.
We dig and
For the buried treasure trove of teaching magic. The legitimacy and respect our careers deserve. The money, the time, the love, the support.
But it’s buried under so much testing and red tape, and so