WRITING A POEM AT SCHOOL

There were voices in the next room,
and across the lacrosse field
there were yells,
and a plane was passing over
in the soothing sky,
and his fingers were clicking
on the keyboard,
calling for feelings to come forth
and follow each other
across the computer screen.

It was a time of triumph --
for the youthful voices,
and the unperturbed plane,
and his carefree, hopeful fingers.

DUST

He saw the dust the mower made,
and it made him see the dust
of his own thoughts
as they pass across his life.
The dust outside swirled away,
like his thoughts that morning
had moved along his mind
and vanished forever.
He hoped to find
a few of those thoughts,
but he knew
you never find dust
once it disappears --
the dust from spring grass
or the dust from thoughts
let loose in your life.

STANDING IN SUNSHINE

A tree was standing in sunshine,
but it didn't do anything,
didn't bow and bend,
didn't dance or shake in happiness,
didn't seem any better
than trees in the shadow of clouds.
A flower was also standing close by,
not behaving in a special way,
not being any more beautiful
because it was springing up
in a limitless kind of sunshine
that was sprawled across
miles and miles of land --
sunshine that was wishing the best
to rivers and hills and towns
and to us,
to all of us
who stand in its brilliance
and are as bright
as we always are,
whether in sunshine or darkness.

WALTZING AND SPRINGING

He was sitting with his thoughts,

but his thoughts kept throwing themselves

around the room

and out the windows

to the winsome springtime air.

It was troublesome to try to control

those undisciplined thoughts,

the way they wandered wherever they wished

and thought whatever

they felt like thinking.

He soon found himself surrendering

and then starting to toss himself around,

just like his thoughts.

His little house lightened up

and let the roof float off,

and then the walls went away,

and there he was,

under the sky,

waltzing and springing

with his disorderly, adorable thoughts.

SWIVELING

His chair at school swivels,
and so does happiness
as it looks in all directions
and dares depression
to say its name.
No one is out of sight
of happiness
as it holds steady
and swings around
to see who needs it,
who's lost in sorrow,
who thinks she's seen
the last of happiness.

He swivels in his smooth chair
and sees happiness
in good health
going round and round
with its gifts.

CLARITY

The windows weren't clear,
but, in a way, the whole world was.
He wondered about things,
and his wondering
was as lucid as the light-blue sky,
and his feelings seemed to shine
as if an artist
had just fashioned them.
He thought of the throwing of balls
by kids across the country,
and knew it was
simple and straightforward,
as was the standing up of skyscrapers
and the elegance of kindness
as it carries itself among us.

He stood beside the soiled windows,
and his standing there
seemed to burnish
this already bright world.

STAYING

"We're leaving",
he heard someone say,
but then he saw the sunshine
steering its graceful ship,
and the thoughts of friends
flowing across the field,
and the cares of someone he loved
lingering in the shade,
seeking his help.
Someone was leaving,
but he let the world
walk toward him
with its hands stretched out,
and he took them.

WRITING WHILE STANDING

His feet felt fine,
holding him steady
as he showed his words
where they should place themselves
on the screen. He was not scared
of writing silly or stupid things,
or of finding strange truths
shining in his sentences,
or of seeing stars
and planets spiraling
among the words.
He was only afraid
his feet would feel left out
of the writing,
of the sunshine his sentences
might spread around
while his feet
just kept keeping him stable.

A STORM

A storm showed him
how silly his fears were,
the way it rolled around the school
with shouts of happiness
and hail. It helped him
hold his life more loosely,
like the sky was carrying the rain
in its comfortable arms,
never concerned about whether
it was a good sky or not,
just joining with weather everywhere
to whoop and holler in happiness.

A MOMENT AT SCHOOL

(A Twitter poem, 140 characters)


Footsteps in the hall, 
then hellos from far-off winds, 
then the folding together 
of stars in space, 
then thoughts making sparks 
and stars.

SILENCE

(A twitter poem, 140 characters)


"Silence," he said, and suddenly
his thoughts stopped, 
and feelings flowed with no sounds, 
and rivers miles away 
turned almost silent 
for him.

A CAREFUL TIME

"Country Corral", oil, by Laurel Daniel

He heard a bird calling in sad sounds
from a tree somewhere,
and kids were coming down the hall
holding their thoughts quietly.
It was a careful time for the earth,
a time for rivers and falling rain
to find comfort in flowing and falling,
a time for a tired teacher
to find his feelings thoughtfully
folded up and placed
under the shade of a tree.

There are trees
like lives with open arms.
He found a few of those
that day.

FAILING A TEST

He totally failed the test.
On the "Crying" part, he couldn't,
nor could he sincerely say
his feelings, which further hurt
his grade. On Section C, "To Do's",
he didn't do one of them,
and the "Calendar" section
sabotaged his grade
because he misplaced
all his appointments.
He couldn't even calculate,
in percentages, how much
he appreciated the things he owned.

It was a complete defeat for him.
About all he did right
was reach out to a friend
who was suffering,
and set a bird's nest
back in a tree.

SECOND BY SECOND

"Chocolate Glazed Donut", oil, by Heidi Malott

Sitting still is something
most things never do.
Even a donut on a plate
does miracles inside itself,
all the electrons and things
speeding here and there
in the sugary spaces.
The silent stars are never still
as they circulate through their kingdoms
in the countries above us,
and far from all the stars,
the thoughts we think
throw up their hands in eagerness,
second by second by second.

THE FULLNESS OF LIFE

He wanted to find a proof
of the fullness of life,
so he looked at the light
that left signs of itself 
in the garden and on the stirring grass.
He looked at the loops
the birds made in the bright air,
at the free fall of happiness
on swelling lawns and parks,
at the pride this powerful earth
seems to show in the spring. 
Then he looked at his unsophisticated hands,
at his senior-citizen shoes as they shone
in the light the morning made, 
at a few small stones in the garden, 
at one green grass blade
bending with the blissfulness 
grass often shows.