Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts

Sunday, November 3, 2013

My Fatal Flaw

UPDATE

Hi all. I think it's time for an update. You know if I haven't been blogging, it's because I am so busy.
I am teaching full time, flying by the seat of my pants.
I am parenting with my husband two boys who seem to have forgotten how to behave this month.
I am tutoring 2 hours a week a young man with autism in working independently on tasks and reading comprehension, simple grammar, and math.
I am attending a college class online, reading texts and articles and writing papers and forum posts for class.
And the rest of the time is spent trying to debrief and regain my sanity. I facebook stalk. I watch shows on hulu or netflix. I plan.

This post is about working through something I read in my college class. It was an article about stereotypes, labeling, and harm framed through the lens of story telling. Stories are something I know. Story telling is one of my strengths. I was intrigued and interested.

The premise is that when we tell a story about someone who is unable to tell it themselves, we stick to the truth and find the good inside. When we listen to stories repeated by others about others we listen to the underlying truths and find the good inside. If we propagate rumors and embellish stories until all know them as legends, we spread hurtful lies.

The example is a story where an old woman was said to sleep on a mattress stuffed with money. The simple lie was spread around until one night a band of thieves stole into her house and killed her to rip her mattress open and find nothing but feathers.

Similarly, when we tell stories about the 'dumb', 'gay', 'black', 'white', 'fat', 'redneck' people we know, the simple embellishments and rumors we start become huge stereotypes that separate and define people in other's minds. The author especially wants to focus on the made up diagnosis of mental retardation. "Made up?" you ask. But when arbitrary scales of of IQ numbers were set to justify putting individuals in settings for care whom did not receive care, but abuse, the possibility that they could succeed at any level in society was thrown out the window. Now we view them as outcasts. We put them in special classes in school. We don't hire them. We think they need separate treatment. This is also abuse.

Look at Carly Fleischmann, all those with Downs who get married or run businesses, or workers in your community that seem different somehow but they have a job so they must be able enough. You know what I mean. You do it, too. What's their story?

My assignment was to be creative and write a poem or draw something this article inspired. I was not in a poetry mood. I still am not in a poetry mood. But I was in a painting mood. So I designed this:
This is a partial quote from the article. I like it. You will see that I used it above when describing the article.

I want to do this. I DO do this as much as possible. My fatal flaw is being an optimist. Now you know how to defeat me. :)

Note: Wrote a poem anyway

Stories

We seek the truth

Beyond the lies

See the sparkle 

In someone's eyes

As a new skill is learned

A new task completed

Story finished

Enemy defeated



Monday, February 14, 2011

Uplifting Song for Valentine's

Since OuterHoard's comment to the previous post indicated that this song was about his impression of me, and since I've been so open with you about who I am in the 30 days of blogging pieces in January, I feel confident in posting this.


THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED (Coleman and Bartle, Sunrise After Tilling)
-----------------------

My friend walks the road less traveled
An unsealed road of discipline
She's sometimes led and sometimes driven
Sometimes hungry, sometimes fed
While we, the many, walk a highway
Lit so bright it must be true
She walks lanes that too few enter
Where tiny lanterns dot the gloom.

My friend turned her back on power
She chose another mobility
She finds peace in smaller places
For weakness is the source of grace
While we, the many, ask for praises
Through pride we're watered, so we grow
She avoids the kiss of culture
Down into the silence goes.

My friend walks a track that's stony
An uphill climb to God knows where
Sometimes she's touched by an ache so poignant
Sometimes she's driven to despair
While we, the many, skirt the painful
We, the many, anaesthetise
My friend looks, she seeks her darkness
She digs to find the better prize.



I think this song is saying a lot. And on days like Valentine's, we need to hear things that uplift us and make us feel special. It's nice to think that all the digging and despair is getting me somewhere; that it makes me a unique individual, the hardships mold me. Thoughts like that can give a girl strength.

I hope this song has reminded you to keep trudging through to reach the prize.


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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

I Believe in Love

Day 17: Your Beliefs

I do BELIEVE I covered this. :)

I believe that God is Love, that the ministry of Jesus was teaching us about Love, and I choose to try my very best to Love everyone. That's the basics.

I wrote a poem about my beliefs, once.

I Believe

I believe in rainy days that soak in deep to nourish at the root
I believe in rainbows of paper butterflies swaying above my head in childish glee
I believe in ice cream sundaes that melt fast in the sun leaving sticky puddles of joy
I believe in harmonies that make angels weep for their beauty
I believe in vanilla and lavender bubble baths of pure silent bliss


These things make me happy. I could add to the list, but I think you get the picture.


Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

A Soggy Fourth and 150th post

It's pretty hard to go swimming when the rain doesn't stop. The fireworks were postponed until tomorrow. Le sigh. So I brought a tired child home who played really well with his cousins today.

Here's a shot of the sopping wet rugs and the drippy chairs, because the pool scene doesn't show you the incessant rain.

There is some beauty here though. If all I had to do was curl up in a comfy chair with a good book, I would. It's the kind of rain where you pull out a family game, do recycled material crafts, and have your kids help you bake goodies. It's a cooling rain, soothing, great for napping.

Good thing it's a holiday!

This is also my 150th post and I wanted to do something special.

Where Poets Come From: A Poem

Behind the gossamer curtain
Beneath the azure veil
You’ll find a quiet beauty
In exquisite detail

You’ll hold your breath to gaze upon it
You’ll take in the scents with your eyes
The scene beheld is beyond words
Sweet music touches the skies

Poetry is wild here
Growing hither and thither
There inside this hollowed ground
A single flower withers

The dried petals wisk away
And a tear is shed for its loss
That single drop ingredient
Births a poet from the moss

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Ficly Poem: Size Matters

If I were taller..

I could reach the second shelf in the cabinets
I could dunk a basketball
I could write at the top of the chalkboard

I could hoist a child on my shoulders for a better view
I could shop in the Misses section
I could drive all models of vehicles comfortably

But I’d have a good view of the dirt on top of the fridge
I’d have to duck under low door frames
And people would always ask me to get things down

I would miss being able to rescue a terrified kid from the McDonald’s Playland
I would miss reaching into small spaces
I would miss climbing onto the roof of the van to strap down luggage

I couldn’t rest my head on my hubby’s chest near his heart
I couldn’t fit in the tent with my kids
I couldn’t grow anymore anyway, so I guess,

I’ll stay short