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—
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.
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.
Going where the climate suits my clothes
Might as well travel the elegant way
Sometimes the songs that we hear are just songs of our own
If you get confused just listen to the music play
Crippled but free I was blind the whole time I was learning to see.
Heard a voice a callin’, Lord you was comin’ after me.
Well, everybody’s dancing in a ring around the sun
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung
Sun went down in honey
And the moon came up in wine
Rising up to paradise,
I know I’m gonna shine
I may not have the world to give to you
But maybe I have a tune or two
‘Cause when things go wrong, wrong with you
It hurts me too
Shall we go, you and I, while we can?
If mercy’s in business, I wish it for you
But I’ll still sing you love songs
Written in the letters of your name
Greet the morning air with song
I will walk alone by the black muddy river
Sing me a song of my own
Comic book colors on a violin river
Listen to the river sing sweet songs
To rock my soul
Once in a while, you get shown the light
In the strangest of places if you look at it right
Some folks look for answers
Others look for fights
I have spent my life seeking all that’s still unsung
Keep on dancing through to daylight
Nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile.
(This is a collage poem—all lyrics from various songs by the Grateful Dead)
I used to ignore the
red flags
on the way to your castle,
down the yellow brick road.
Only to find that your
promise ring
was made of graphite.
You only offer
bittersweet watermelon
and dandelions.
I’m half and half
about your
field of poppies,
hearthstone,
polished stone…
no gems.
I’m on my way—
away—
searching for a new
green light.
Boom-sicle bop-sicle
Cherry red popsicle
Sparkling new bicycle
Swimming pool toys
Tops off convertibles
Cookouts and carnivals
Parades and festivals
Summertime Joys
Today’s #VerseLove prompt was to write a double dactyl poem. “This whimsical form of poetry is made of two quatrains.
Lines four and eight have one dactyl plus a stressed syllable
Line one is a pair of nonsense rhyming words
Line two introduces the subject of the poem (often a name)
Lines one through three and five through seven contain two dactylic metrical feet.” This is my attempt.
Drink a huge glass of iced water.
Stretch.
No, really stretch.
Take your time.
Go outside.
Look up at the sky.
Smell a flower or seven.
Sneeze.
Smile at a stranger.
Hug a friend.
Say, “I love you” more than once.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Tell yourself that you are enough.
Watch the sunset.
Sleep well.
I invited Literacy to the table. She was delightful as can B. We drank T.
She seemed shy at first, as if she was trying to decode each word—sounding out her thoughts. Once she started, she began speaking rapidly, as if I were timing her. “Listen,” I said. “This is not a race. It isn’t about accuracy, and your pronunciation is just fine. I invited you because I want to know U. I want to C U. I want to understand. ¿Comprende? This is all about communication.” Literacy took a big deep breath . . . and started to cry. “U C,” she said, “Sometimes people get all phocused on phonics—It’s like they’re hooked. Yes, foundation, foundation, phoundation, but it doesn’t stop there. We need to play with words, slay with words, sing and be sung. U know?” And I did. So we did. We sang. And we shared stories—hers, mines, ours. We laughed, then cried some more, then sang a song of hope. “C, this is Y,” she said, “This is Y I live. This makes me feel whole.” We drank more T, made lists, recited poems, made declarations, asked questions, wrote our dreams, and shared our resilience through story. Y’all, Literacy is a beauty, and she is invited to my table any time!
Breathe.
Inhale
Through the nose,
Slow and steady.
Pause for a moment.
Get ready to exhale:
Really slowly through the mouth.
How are you feeling after this?
Are you ready to do it again?
Repeat until you are ready to shine.
#VerseLove Day 16: Write an etheree poem.
Evening sky, blazing across the azure canvas—
Amethyst and fuchsia twirling into each other—
Stretching into sleek silken strands
Highlighted by golden persimmon,
Flaming like DayGlo sherbet,
I will ride off into you.
The Read-e-ologist 