"Hope Where I Least Expected"

I was digging through some old writer's notebooks that had collected on a corner of my desk--a special spot where I deposit things to sift through later. The Internet went down the other day, and so Later came sooner, and I explored the stacks, finding various projects that had been started, a few brainstorms of others that I'd like to start charging up, and even a few partially-worked pieces. One of those was this Bring Me poem that 7th grader Tyler C. asked me to help him shape after selecting an object from the field behind the school. He asked me if I could share the creation with others. That was about four or years ago, I think; he's at the high school now (for now).

I guess I should keep my promise:

"Hope Where I Least Expected" by Tyler C. (and Joe Average Writer)

(http://www.alamy.com/stock-photo/dead-dandelion.html)

Dying Dandelion,
shriveling up like a 
hopeless twig in a fire
stubbornly striving to thrive
where others left you
for dead,
forgotten and forlorn,
spread
and spring up new
despite field of hate
and despise;
bring me a sign
that life goes on.


(Maybe there's a metaphor for what I found as well.)

"To the Pencil Lying in the Grass Behind the School"

Some of you may know that I like to do Bring Me poems with my students. If you are unfamiliar with this type of poetry, please refer back to one of my others ("Ode to My Dorito Crumbs" or "Plea to the Lonely Fruit Chew I Found This Morning") as I am tired of typing the same instructions over and over when I reuse things. That, and I'm just flat out lazy today. Anyway, I first wrote this draft back on May 18th but have only just returned to it.

Cast out number two pencil,

student-abused and stress-bitten,

splintered in the anguish and exhilaration

of the latest failed math test,

Bring me your determination

to remain straight,

your resolve to function

despite being broken,

your endurance

notwithstanding being shattered

against unrealistic standardization—

long after your nubbly pink eraser

has been rubbed out

and your graphite potential spilled to the ground.

Bring Me Poetry Revisited (Not a Video)

Those who are expecting a music video, please tune in later. This is a poem. However, I would probably handsomely reward anyone who turned it into a rock anthem. Or maybe a club remix with extra back beats. The possibilities are endless...for those who have spare time.

This week my students are working with figurative language, as well as looking at life through different points of view. So I decided to have them write a collection of "Bring Me" poems. I stole this idea from my good friend Andria when she presented at the CUWP Summer Institute 2009. She took them from Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge's book Poemcrazy. I've posted about this before back in October of 2009. If you are unfamiliar with my "Ode to My Dorito Crumbs," check it out. You might sense a running theme. But, anyway, here is today's "Bring Me" for your pleasure (cough cough):

“Plea to the Lonely Fruit Chew I Found This Morning”

Smooshed orange Starburst

lying in melted graying snow puddles,

protected from the yellow

bellowing monstrosities

but

trampled by the feet of exuberance,

Shake off

the rogue spruce needle

and the remnants

of dirt-caked soles,

and

Bring me the story

of your pocket escape,

of disappointment,

of the child

whose mouth you will

not tempt

during first period U.S. history

when texts and lectures and mouths

become dry.

"Ode to My Dorito Crumbs"

This was another exercise from the Central Utah Writing Project called a "Bring Me" poem.

How rebellious,
how impetuous,
you tweezer specks!
Uninhibited by destiny,
your spicy cheesedust-laden
bodies leave their mark
upon my fingers,
lava-intensive and salty,
cheddar and sticky;
You leap from my mouth—
jarred and broken,
Unwilling to die,
to feed
my insatiable appetite.
Oh, chip crumbs,
stay!
bring an end
to my hunger
so I don’t get my fingers
greasier
while scavenging
for more.