What you see is not what’s there
Your eyes to you are blind
To the world what you share
What you see is not what’s there
And to others you show more care
And to others you are more kind
What you see is not what’s there
Your eyes to you are blind
This is a Triolet: 8 lines with the following pattern where capital letters represent repeated lines ABaAabAB for #npm 4
Saw this thing, I’m sure you did too, but if you didn’t here it is. We’re so critical of ourselves.
Song of Hearts
Paint a story Paint a song Song of despair Song of jubilance Jubilance from nothing Jubilance from everything Everything is nothing Everything is all All for me All for you You are sunshine You are rain Rain brings sadness Rain brings growth Growth is green Growth is uncertainty Uncertainty makes questions Uncertainty makes answers Answers from within Answers from without Without you Without love Love ever present Love ever wonder Wonder at connections Wonder at distance Distance meaningless Distance immeasurable Immeasurable as sunbeam Immeasurable as eternity Eternity is forever Eternity is a blink Blink away tears Blink away change Change your heart Change your mind Mind your manners with lies Mind your feelings as truth Truth is uncertain Truth is known Known in the heart convinces Known in the soul connects Connects me to you Connects me to those Those who think with open eyes Those who think with open hearts Hearts that story Hearts that song Song Story
This monstrous thing is a Blitz poem. I googled for something different. I proceeded to make such a silly thing. But there it is. My 3rd entry for #npm. Here’s the rules:
You may roll your eyes or hurl. I got no problem with that.
Just my opinion here, of no consequence to anyone but me.
I’m surprised by choices that parents make for their children. Myself included. A friend of mine got tickets for herself and her 2 younger daughters to see Hair and it turns out that only the youngest was available to go. So she asked me to do her the “favor” of taking her daughter and my youngest to see it. I knew just enough about it to debate it. For about 10 minutes. My friend is reserved and responsible and pretty much nothing like me and if she thought this show was appropriate for her 11 year old daughter then it seemed appropriate for my 12 year old daughter. The show was fabulous and I would see it again in a heartbeat. Probably wouldn’t take the kids with me (and I’m certain LLO wouldn’t go again anyhow 
). The “brief” nudity was about 3 days long. And no, they were not wearing flesh colored underwear. The song “Sodomy” came up early on. I was hoping they would skip that one. LLO looked at me and I quickly said “Don’t ask.” I am so not going there. Ever. Anyhow a co-worker came up to me today joking about the kinds of shows I take the kids to. I was embarrassed thinking that she was judging me. But it was a very well done show and I’m not sure that I’d make a different choice.
I was talking to another coworker about the kinds of games the 2nd graders in her class play. Shoot ‘em up games. Games they are really good at. Kids who have trouble sitting still and can’t work out disagreements with their classmates who are experienced in pretend killing. Scares the bejeebers out of me.
I was chatting with some other 2nd graders yesterday and one of them was all excited that he’d seen Hunger Games for the 7th time. That scares me too. Because LLO declined reading those books and seeing that movie because she thinks it’s scary. I agree. It is a scary movie. Scary concept. I loved the books and the movie, but I was more than glad to leave her at home when I took Spawn and her friend (who waited a month and a half to see it with us because she didn’t want to see it with anyone else.) Spawn and her friend were about 16 or 15 since I now can’t remember when this movie came out.
I think we’re taking the innocence away from our children too early. And when we, as adults who know the difference between reality and fantasy, expose children to violence and mature content we blur the line between acceptable and unacceptable. It scares me.
enjoy a preachy nonet poem for #npm 2
it may seem like a game or a movie
pretend, unreal, fantasy, fun
but what is it to a child
whose parents give consent
intentionally
or without care
right and wrong
the line
blurs
I have a thing for braids. Laura stole my heart when she galloped down the flowery slope, shiny brown braids flopping in the wind behind her. Surely I could have been her had I long enough hair. My little girls, when they were so, little, that is, did not share my love of braids. Their blond hair was either too short or when long enough they wouldn’t sit still to let me braid. Or they would sit, pumping their feet with impatience all the while, for me to braid shiny yellow on a summer day, only to pull them out as soon as they got out of my reach. Yet another war waged in vain. All wars in vain in my land. I live with no Marys. And then there’s that scene with Elizabeth, a long nighttime braid tied with a bit of cloth, tossed casually over her shoulder, evidence of a sleepless night as she walked into the sunrise and eventually found Mr. Darcy whose hands were cold. And a pretty high school friend, whose mother was a hairdresser, always wore French braids under our obnoxious fur covered band hats. French braids were a mystery to me then. I gawked in awe. Now I know how hold the strands just so to intertwine magically for elegant braids. Occasionally I am permitted to plait.
What is it about braids that entice me so? It may be the innocence reflected in those ropes. It may be that shininess that seems to come about naturally as hair is braided. It may be the remembered repetitive action of right over left over middle over right, calming in a way that repetitive actions can be. Or it may be that braiding is a way of building strength. Individual strands are joined in groups, interwoven to make something beautiful and strong which can only be taken apart on purpose. And isn’t that what we want for little girls?
#Win SH 23. Write a poem using a descriptive to meditative structure. I say this is something like a prose poem. So there. Also I’m calling this #npm1. I’m a rebel.
#Win SH 5. Create something out of paper mache.
This would be a tree made out of paper and twigs. I think there’s something kinda ironic or amusing about that. In any case. I finally finished.
I’ve been “off” from work for 6 days
In that time I have:
made an Easter dress for Spawn
finished or nearly finished 3 prayer shawls (which were in various states of progress)
(little cat feet not included)
quality control checked somewhere around 25 pillows which were then delivered to the hospital today but not by me
spent 12 hours doing art stuff with 11 kids and Spawn
spent a bazillion hours getting ready to do previous
at least partially cooked an Easter dinner that put all of us into food coma
(which is not to say the food was partially cooked)
koolaid dyed tips of Spawn’s hair blue
put a first coat of paint on my paper mache project from the scavenger hunt
(which a complete bust for me)
finished a book and started a new one- reading, that is
played a lot of Candy Crush on Facebook- excellent use of time
was invited for a sleepover with my 2nd favorite 16 year old
who also told her mother that her life would be perfect if her mom and I were lesbian parents
which made me laugh hysterically
painted this cake thing (ala Wayne Thiebald)
took nowhere near enough naps
I can’t believe my vacation is over
I’m exhausted.
#wintsh 19. Write a poem using an emblem structure
Tall green plant that reaches high into the sky
Skinny bright green leaves jut from a stem
Chartreuse, lime, kelly porcupine prickly points
Reaching for the blueness of a western summer day
Proud, don’t touch me, leaves skewer the blue
Sending a message that this being is so much
More than other lesser plants
This is Pacita Abad’s work. I forget what it’s called. In any case, I’m completely wild about it.
So I took this idea to the art studio today with kids aged 6-11, I think. And this is what happened. Love. Also. I can handle a drill. Who knew.
And I found I have a new skill. An awesome skill that will take me far into this fine world. With my own eyes closed, I can “hear” when a kid is rolling their eyes at me. Not making this up.
Another project from today. One from a kid and one that I made. The glue gets washed away.
#wintsh21. Take a poem you have previously written and revise it by putting the images in reverse to see how it changes the poem. (Cheater pants prompt for a busy week.)
For the People?
The decision rests solely in the heart of a furry creature
For whom mercy may not even be a consideration.
The moon faces the day, intent on his own concerns.
The god eyes in the mountain look upon the scene:
An observer only
The predator ponders:
Is it mercy or control that motivates his plan
The lamb silently waits-
Carefree and ambivalent
Drugged and impotent
This is the original version:
For the people The lamb silently waits-Even though I kept the same words and only changed the order, I think it does change the poem. What do you think? I think it makes the lamb seem far more foolish and the minotaur more manipulative. I can’t decide which version I prefer.
Based on this @aloysius son work “minotaur and lamb”
I recommend going somewhere else.
#wintsh 3. Write a flash fiction using the words: fish, interstate, diamond, telepathy, Jupiter, longing, freckles.
The tour bus swam on the interstate, a shark amongst the car fish. The passengers safely riding in comfort, excited for their upcoming lacrosse game. Most excited of all was the head coach, swollen with pride for her team and with a baby growing inside. She gazed at the diamond from her loving husband, and then at the photo of her small son, full of energy and spunk. Her life fulfilled the longings of her youth, when she was covered in freckles from the sun and sweat from her sport. Telepathy gave her no clue.
Jupiter made other plans. The shark slid into a reef. She died.
Here’s the article. This was the first thing I heard on the radio this morning.
http://www.pennlive.com/midstate/index.ssf/2013/03/coroners_officer_said_one_preg.html
#wintsh 13. Create a piece inspired by imagining the life of someone you read about in the obituaries.
She was a beautiful woman
Not necessarily standard beauty
But her smile was infectious
Her words were an inspiration
She made kids want to learn.
Surely her home was filled
With love and cheer
Her two sons, active and bright.
And then one day, this 39 year old woman,
Apparently healthy and strong,
Died in her basement
Running on a treadmill.
Her sons and husband shocked
And abandoned.
This was written about Spawn’s middle school PE teacher who died. I started thinking about her this morning when I heard the news above. I wouldn’t have been surprised if today had been the anniversary of her death. Not. Two years next week. The whole community was shocked by her death. Spawn puts flowers on her grave at Memorial Day.
There is something so sad about a young child losing a parent. (And a parent losing a child- but that is not my melancholy focus today.)
As I explained to Spawn and Spouseman where I was going with this, they did completely synchronized head bobbing. You know what that means.
#wintsh A piece inspired by the following piece of art by Carolyn Coalson “Traveling into green as far as I can go”
I made sure to tell LittleLoudOne in different words. She doesn’t participate in synchronized head bobs. Here’s the part where I tell you what was in my head (which as usual is not how it came out. Nonetheless…) In the green thing, I see stalactites in a cave. Caves are made of rock and stalactites are formed by water dripping. So… the chick is supposed to look stone-ish. (not necessarily stoned)
The stoned chick is fretting. This too shall pass.
fireworks
#wintsh 42. A piece inspired by the this piece of art “Feet of Clay” by Carolyn Coalson
I feel a little silly, but nobody said that what I was inspired to create had to be all that. I looked at the original and thought of fireworks. So that’s where I went. Didn’t come out how it started in my head, but nothing ever does.
My sign for today
Today was a very exciting day. Our schedule was all different because of a field trip. I love a little shake up. I decided yesterday that I was going to be excited today because I needed to be. And I was. This project has been far less about other people having insight into my frame of mind and more about my view of myself. It felt good to wear “excited”.
For the first time, I wore a sign out where I’d run into strangers. The lady at the fabric store definitely noticed it. She looked twice (and somewhat quizzically), but said nothing.
Big, fun weekend coming up and an eventful week after that. Woo hoo.
Excited. not exciting. 
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