Love

Posted on by The Read-e-ologist

I love your dark brown eyes. I have loved them since the first day that they looked up at me 30 years, 8 months, and one day ago.

I love the way that your face lights up when you recognize joy on someone else’s face.

I love how you speak up for people who are not able to speak up for themselves.

I love your passion for learning and that you always have an interest you are pursuing.

I love the linguistic part of your brain, both how languages work and how to work a language.

I love your sense of humor. 

I love that you are humble and kind, and I love when you know that you are worth speaking up for.

I love when you spend time with me, when you call me, and when you send me letters.

I love you and I always will, Son. No matter what. 

Home

Posted on by The Read-e-ologist

I always wanted three bedrooms or more
a dining room with a smooth maple table and place settings for 12
fine china, Waterford crystal, shiny silver spoons.

I always wanted an inviting sectional sofa
Soft fabric, huge cushions—
Fort-making materials.

I always wanted an expansive kitchen 
with a stocked stainless steel refrigerator and
a table we can gather round for meals and game night.

I always wanted a huge backyard
with a cool pool for summer fun
and space to run around and catch fireflies.

But, I’ll settle for a studio, a condo, a duplex—
a small space with a sturdy simple sofa
so long as you always come home.

It Was Really Nice To See You

Posted on by The Read-e-ologist

In English we say, It was nice to see you.
In Poetry we say,

As soon as I noticed you, my heart
Raced a little faster. I could feel
The warmth spread across my face.

My cheeks still ache from the smiling
Even though we only had a few minutes
To chat and catch up, I feel a connection
With you
And I want more.

It was really nice to see you. 
I mean it.

Forgiveness

Posted on by The Read-e-ologist

 I went to this website, and found a poetry form called the dizain. Here are the basic rules of the dizain:

  • One 10-line stanza
  • 10 syllables per line
  • Employs the following rhyme scheme: ababbccdcd

Some have said that to forgive is divine— 
That each and every human makes mistakes.
Seventy times seven, or maybe nine
Is the amount to overlook the aches,
No matter what caused each of the heartbreaks.
You have caused several and I’ve caused a few.
We argued, talked, and tried to see it through,
But forgiveness doesn’t work by itself.
It’s not too difficult to forgive you;
The hardest one to forgive is myself. 

Hate (An Antonymized Poem)

Posted on by The Read-e-ologist

Today’s NaPoWriMo.net prompt was to write disliking something it. Today’s VerseLove prompt was to write a poem using antonyms from the line of another poem. I tried to blend the two prompts. I was going to choose one line and evoke a poem from that, but decided, instead, to antonymize the entire poem “Lovesong for Lucinda” by Langston Hughes.

Hate
Is a rotting stone
Shriveling in a citrine field.
Spit it out
And the curse of its repulsion 
Will choke and ensnare you.
Hate
Is a Black Hole
Obscuring light from the depths.
Ignore too long
And its icy spears
Will never heal your heart.
Hate
Is the nethermost of the ocean
Lurking in a motionless abyss.
If you
Will always exhale your mind
Do not fall too low. 

He Doesn’t Ask Who I Am

Posted on by The Read-e-ologist

And I don’t tell him.
He can see that I’m wearing a name tag 
which suggests that I might be someone—might even 
hold some authority over the grown up who just yelled at him, 
Or maybe not.
I am sitting by myself, in the Commons 
composing an email. One of those, where I keep 
changing my mind on if it should be “reply” or “reply all.”
I look up when I hear the voices, one raised.
And that’s when I see him, and he see me.
The expression on his face asks, Do you see this guy?
in reference to the grown-up, the one with the raised voice.
I am confident that my facial expression replies—just to him—
I do see. He seems really frustrated. Next, my facial expression asks,
Did you play a role in that frustration? and follows up with a,
Don’t get me wrong. I still see your humanity, guilty or not.
I know that he understands 
everything I am saying without saying anything.
I know this because he wears a smirk that is humble, and playful, 
and friendly, and responsible, all at the same time 
(if it’s possible for a smirk to do all of those things), 
as he walks to the office with the grown-up, 
the one with the raised voice. 

Re-Member

Posted on by The Read-e-ologist

Education as the practice of freedom

Requires us to change our lens

Unapologetic truth speaking 

Social knowledge

Challenge dominant narratives

Historical contention 

Did everyone come back with answers to the universe?

Put our business 

On front street

Instead of all the lies, it should be transparent.

Everybody needs to know.

That’s why they call it public education, Right?





(This is just a poem that came to me today as I listened and collected various phrases and statements I heard around me.)

Inside Me is A Bridge

Posted on by The Read-e-ologist

Inside me is a bridge— 
a meeting of two minds, 
two places, 
two stories.

Behind me,
there are miles of 
Resilience—
forests of fear 
valleys of hardship,
hills of victory.

I do not know 
how far back it goes,
as I can only remember 
Parts
of the journey from this lifetime,
and I do not know 
all of the generations 
who walked the trail before me.

Inside me is a bridge—
a place where
Who I Have Become meets 
Who I Am Yet To Be—
a handshake, if you will,
a passing of the baton,
a nod of understanding between 
the places I have already grown, 
and the new victories that stretch ahead.

Inside me is a bridge.
It is not a place for me to stop long,
just a place for me to
reflect, to take 
a moment, to take
a breath,
before I move ahead 
into my next adventure. 

What’s the Difference Between Gray and Grey?

Posted on by The Read-e-ologist

He stands at the pulpit to preach the word
Schooling us on Greek and Hebrew phrase
His self-esteem and status both undeterred
While he leads, and he pleads, and he prays.

He holds his head up high, to look upon his flock
Speaking of the Lord, with his truth and his ways
Scoping and scanning and taking stock
Of the folks in the pews, while he prays.

A perceptive shepherd he’s got his eyes on the sheep
Monitoring the singing the needs and the praise
Especially the young women, who are prone to weep
He notices. He nurtures. He preys.

In spirit he’s Peter; in the flesh Cosby, Bill.
His desires bigger than his Christian ways.
He lures her and offers her a drink, laced with pill.
He plans to take her and make sure she stays. He preys.