Posts Tagged 'joy'

Celebrating Poetry Month

It’s no secret that “I geek poetry” in a big way. I love to read poems. I begin every class I teach by reading a poem.

I also love to write poems, and I have many poems tucked away from my time as a teen, on and off, up to now.

When I take research notes, I take notes in poems.  It is just the way my brain works.  Writing a structured narrative is painfully difficult for me, but poetry flows.  (Not necessarily good poetry, mind you, but poetry nonetheless.)

So, I did have a bit of a spring in my step yesterday as poetry month began.  Seems poems are popping up everywhere.

I was thinking I would try to write a poem a day this month, but I knew I would fall behind and feel frustrated.  So, I’m just going to try to do one poetry-related activity a day – read one, write one, revise one, post one, something. I’m already a day behind (!) so here goes.

This is a poem I wrote in the Spring of 2007 in a poetry pedagogy course taught by the amazing JoBeth Allen.  Early in the semester, JoBeth handed out random buttons and we wrote poems around them. We had many such exercises and inspirations that semester, but this one seemed to stick with me as a challenge.  After many years of avoiding rhyme in my poems, this poem became a place for me to experiment in developing rhymes that weren’t trite or forced.  I’ll let you be the judge of my success. As with most of my writing, it is somewhat loosely based on my life.  I hope this poem makes you smile a bit. Happy poetry month!

The Family Egg Hunt

Every year on Easter day

Be it April, May or March,

“The Gleeson Family Egg Hunt” came

once we got home from church.

But first, the family picture!

Mom would lovingly remind.

“One, two, three!  Smile!  Cheese!”

Now we’ve got eggs to find!

I would shimmy off my tights,

shoes, gloves, and hat were stripped

“on your mark, get set, now go!”

and off we went, full clip.

Crawling under the bushes

in our overgrown backyard,

there always was one or two eggs

that Daddy hid too hard.

Big brother ruffled old dead leaves,

crawled past the spigot drip

“Found It!” he yelled.  “Awwww!” I screamed.

Out poked my bottom lip.

My parents stood relieved as

he reached his left arm out.

One less smelly rotting egg

to later worry about.

He strained and squirmed for every inch

so clumsy in his girth

digging in his size twelve feet

and grabbing at the earth.

He reached and finally “got it!”

Then “POP!” the button flew.

He didn’t have to say what happened –

for we already knew.

“OW!” as the jagged fence edge

scraped his plump arm red.

“?*!@?*!” as the craggy unpruned branch

smacked him on the head.

“Squelch” went his new loafers

swallowed up by mud.

White polyester covered bottom

hit the ground – – THUD!

“His Easter outfit’s RUINED!”

I gasped, so horrified.

“He’d grow out if it anyway”

and smiling, Mommy sighed.

And all this for the trophy

in the corner of the yard.

Daddy should’ve known better than

to hide that egg so hard.


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