Wordz

We Rise

2021-03-26T05:36:00.002-07:00

I hit the gym floor...hard.

My knee burns, my wrist and palm ache

And in a split second, thoughts flash

Argh, it hurts!

Everyone sees me.

Why do I play?

A teammate pulls me up

…. Because I love the game.

Yeah.

I rise and stand.

The team looks at me, concerned..

My eyes grin. (no mask can hide it)

They smile back.

All of them know

They sent strength.

Blood pulses

I send them energy

They nod, message received.

To my opponent..

...I wink.

Yeah, I’m still here.

She blinks, confused.

No, girl, I’m not out.

Now, I’m in her head.

I rise stronger.

My head is in the game.

My hands ready for the ball.

Heart beats fierce.

Connected

Heart of the team gives me power.

I transcend

What’s a bruise?

Nothing but a badge

Effort given.

Toes bounce

Legs move

Passes pop

Ball arcs for a basket

I rise,

because We Rise

and Play.

I Stand Tall

2020-07-03T10:31:00.002-07:00

“Bloodied but unbowed"

I stand tall.

Pulling my limbs from the dark tendrils

that unceasingly try to drag me under,

I stand tall.

As Cool Hand Luke, not ready to lose,

I stand tall.

Against the wages of daily stress

With undaunted spirit

Proud of my humanness,

Of spirit,

I stand tall.

With a glint in the eye

And a curl on the lip,

I stand tall.

And, for those in my life,

Or in my memory,

That have shown me how,

I stand tall

Undaunted

2020-04-06T06:10:00.000-07:00

His head spun and he fell

Unable to stand, memory lost

Serious injury and hospital

Becomes a reality check

That scares every teammate.

But we shall go forward, undaunted.

“One game at a time,” they say.

Comes with spirited “Good Lucks.”

We nod, smile and say “Thanks”

Yet this game is different

There’s more than a win or loss

But we shall go forward, undaunted.

So, as we ride the bus as a team

We shall joke, chat and strategize.

And our hearts will thrum eagerly.

as we hunger for the field,

Yet, cool, with nonchalance and a grin

We shall go forward, undaunted.

The Sound of Words

2020-04-01T05:41:00.003-07:00

The sound of words being made

Started out scratching quill to parchment.

Sharp tip scrapping ink into scrolls

Scratching out the scrawl of ideas,

The scent of poems, the essence of humanity.

Gutenberg, with a pull and a spin

Banged large plates together to sound out

Like a bell the equality of books.

Bringing news to all, sharing knowledge,

And bellowing thoughts of revolution.

The key of a typewriter strikes. Whap!

Slapping metal into ribbon on to the page.

Words tattle and rattle from aching fingers

Cachunking a carriage with a whiz after a bell.

Words soft and hard speak stories of life.

With a whir and a hum, the power excels,

A silver ball bounces and bangs along.

Words form quickly with the dance of thought.

And with a shift of white and a shuffle back,

Words disappear, to be resurrected more clear.

Now, the words wink with the soft clicking

As fingers tap through the digital glow.

Printers whisper quietly, paper hisses into trays.

Though the flow of energy is hushed and subdued,

The sound of making words still thunders on.

May 2002

A Small Town Gathering of Heroes

2019-10-05T08:26:00.002-07:00

A dark night, rainy, a hero came home.

A black car, long limo, carried him gently.

A flag of stars and stripes blanketed him.

The street was glossy, tires whispered prayers,

For many heroes preceded and followed.

Lights, red, white and blue, flashing quietly.

Troops ‘Ten-Hut’ as he passed with honor.

EMT, fire, state, and county colors rolled with

Fellowship, pride, and a teary eye.

Many people stand together, close and somber,

Connected in grief, love, and respect, as family,

A community of hugs and remembrance.

All about are sturdy, stoic faces of the men and women

Who protect, stand in harm’s way, go to danger, and serve,

And I say thank you to him, to them, to all.

She has Super Powers!

2019-02-24T14:51:00.000-08:00

“She has super powers!”

“No, she don’t!” Hands reject.

“Yes.” Eyes flare. “She does.”

Hands scoff. “Prove it.”

Eyes shine bright. “Easy.”

She came in before school ever started.

Painted the classroom up real nice.

Made it bright. Made it clean and safe.

On the gray, rainy days she smiles and hugs.

We forget about the outside and learn

As she leads us book explorations.

We stood on chairs when we read our poems.

Something about a different way to look at things

And sounding our voice over the roofs.

Plus, this is funny, she and others danced on stage.

It was pretty good for a woman her age

And we laughed together, the whole room.

“She sounds a bit crazy.” Hands taps the table.

Eyes roll with a grin. “Most teachers are.”

“But still no super powers,” Hands, palms out.

Eyes proud. “She changed my world.”

A Dusty Old Valentine

2019-02-13T13:39:00.000-08:00

I found a dusty old Valentine
Shoved back into a desk drawer.
It was one I bought for you
Then misplaced sometime of yore.

It had hearts and flowers
And curly letters delicate and red,
“You are my heart and soul,
Be mine, now and forever,” it said.

Fifteen years are only a few years
As husband and wife then family
Add three; meeting, knowing and falling
We have barely scratched at eternity.

The dusty old Valentine and all the yesterdays,
Like today, with tomorrow, holds with a smile
Your blue eyes showing, day after day,
Me with you and your love all the while.

I Give You G

2019-01-31T16:52:00.000-08:00

I went and said Good-bye to you today.

Family and friends spoke of you.

A lot of Good words were shared,

Me, a man of words, however,

was at a loss. I had no words to Give.

What is there that can be said?

All I have David, is a letter,

that letter, which leads to the words, is G

I give you the letter G

as in Ginger,

with your red head crazy, curly ‘fro.

Course, you said, “mistaken for Ginger” when actually “Gangster.”

Yet, the only crime I heard was stealing your sister’s hair Gel.

I give you the letter G

as in Gentleman.

You were polite and courteous

to my wife and Good to my kids;

a friendly, Genuine, sturdy, all around nice Guy.

I give you the letter G

as in Good and Great;

A Good man; heart, body and soul.

A Great brother, son, friend and co-worker.

I give you the letter G

as in Goofy;

Sucking up peanut m & m’s off the counter,

special eye-brow trimming and TheFlyboi123 monologues

on You-tube; witty, clever and hilarious.

And I give you the letter G

as in Grin

Your signature smile, from ear to ear, oh so Genuine,

and, like you, big and bold and beautiful.

Well...no, as said by sis, “Gorgeous.”

Yeah, David, G is your letter,

and that Genuine, Goofy, “Gangster”

(actually Gentleman though),

Gorgeous, Grin is your Gift to us all.

Although it is only a letter,

I give you G.

I am Sura!

2018-09-26T17:17:00.001-07:00

Some days I stand in the hallway during passing time shouting lines from Shakespeare. Students grin, shake their heads, or hurry by. “It’s the weird guy.” The hallway is my stage.

Some days I stand in the hallway spewing forth a lecture with dramatic emphasis about the “Quest for Knowledge.” Students frown and hurry because they are late for class. The hallway is my soapbox.

Some days I stand in the hallway off to the side and listen to the tears, the anger, and the frustration of being a teen. Students respect the privacy and give clearance. The hallway is my office.

Some days I stand in the hallway, arms folded, watching for dropping trash, spilling books and bullies. I will swoop in on a jammed locker. The hallway is my territory.

Some days I stand in the hallway, leaning against the wall, greeting and smiling, joshing and joking. Students quip back or swing in for a quick chat. The hallway is my front porch.

Some days I stand in the hallway celebrating with high fives, hugs and dances over a good grade, a triumphant moment or a return of a former student. The hallway is my banquet room.

Some days I stand in the hallway when it is empty and quiet missing the mutter of students, slamming of lockers and the exuberance of youth. The hallway is my sanctuary.

Some days I stand in the hallway looking for a version of me; small and timid, wide-eyed looking for a place to be. The hallway is my reflection.

I am Sura. The hallway is my domain. It may be just a few square feet, but here I stand as a hero, as a teacher, as a man. The hallway is me.

Well Noted

2018-08-15T10:09:00.000-07:00

The leader of the band

Plays his farewell concert.

Many instruments directed.

Millions of notes played.

Do not play sad chords;

His music is not done.

Many students learned;

His song plays on

Kids learned passion

to dance and play in notes,

To feel the bass,

Love the rhythm.

Through the melody,

Life lesson learned.

Music touches the soul,

And he touched the heart.

So, Strike up the band

And play a joyful tune.

We celebrate today

The Crescendo of career

Play loud and strong

As he did in class.

Forever music plays

For this well noted man.

Wild Flower

2018-08-08T06:31:00.002-07:00

Good things come in small packages

so doth the saying go.

Somewhat appropriate, yet lacking depth,

don’t you know

when speaking of a black diamond girl

of five foot or so.

She races, dances, and speaks as if someone

hit the nitro.

Hair all a tumble, eyes of sparkle bright

is this little dynamo.

Energy and attitude tumble together;

her aura, electric rainbow.

Tender soul and fierce heart with lightning

they did sew

creating a lively, wild and beautiful flower

to erupt and grow.

There

2018-08-03T15:03:00.001-07:00

There.

Beside.

Comfort,

Secure,

A shoulder,

A hug.

There.

Together.

Smile,

Laughter,

A moment,

A joy.

There.

Behind.

Courage,

Daring,

A push,

A cheer.

There.

Ahead.

Opening,

Shielding,

A teammate

A guard.

There.

Now.

Then,

Always,

A confidant,

An ally.

There.

The best

Word

That

Describes

A friend.

Novel

2018-07-31T13:29:00.002-07:00

Our lives get interwoven

Into many different stories.

We are a page or two to some

Or a chapter in another’s.

Many tales make us who we are;

Some pages tear stained,

Some wrinkled with laughter,

All gilded in gold.

On days like today,

Two lives blend together

Into a promise of many pages

That will yield a novel.

The words written forward

From this promise till eternity

Tell boldly, the unique drama

Of loving and living, happily together.

Blueprints

2018-07-31T12:49:00.001-07:00

The foundation is made of

One part love, one part trust

And two parts of each other.

Mix well.

Walls are built with sturdy planks

Of kindness and faith

For they insulate against the storms.

The roof is caring

Shingled with determination

Nailed down with a promise.

Windows and doors are needed.

The more the better.

A well lit open-air floor plan

Keeps it fresh and clean.

And a fire place is built

To keep the passion aflame

For this will warm the house

Forever.

Dreams must be wired throughout

and be kept up to code,

So the house will provide

the energy to be and do.

The decor is made of many things collected.

Laughs and smiles, tears and heartaches,

Hugs, jokes, prayers, and kisses

Add the right touch.

While quiet moments and cleansing words

Sweep away any dormant dust.

No, there is not any blueprint to look upon

There’s only a stockyard of supplies

From family, friends and God above.

The work and the comfort

Are to the husband and wife

To build and nurture a happy life.

Pounded

2018-07-29T08:11:00.001-07:00

Pounded.

Digital images

of artificial worlds,

perfect people,

and white teeth

Pounded.

Serious faces

spew grim realities

of a world

of gray.

Pounded.

Allies say

it’s “them.”

We need to rebel

against rules.

Pounded.

Many individuals

collaborate against

the trend,

“Do it our way.”

Pounded.

Uncertain thoughts

within your head

What is right, wrong?

What is.

Pounded.

with hammers

on the soul

until weak.

Hope is depleted,

falling.

Pounded.

To the core

of being

where life sparks

and surges.

Pounded

to the dense

Essence that

will not just

sigh.

Pounded,

yet not failing.

Clawing back

to see and

stand.

Pounded

on the surface.

Strong inside,

Living,

Being.

Jump in the Lake

2018-07-18T18:00:00.000-07:00

A cool day in July,

Breezy, bright, and bold.

A Great Lake ahead,

Michigan, waves inviting.

A young woman,

scars on her body, stands

A warrior, battles fought,

Freedom reborn in the water.

A jump in the lake,

Victory washes in waves.

An act of simple joy

is her celebration of life.

From the Heart

2018-07-01T07:12:00.002-07:00

To sing well, she taught, “From the diaphragm.”

Let the air fill your lungs and resonate from there.

To sing, she instructed, “Open and project.”

One should hear clear crisp words of the song.

Yet, in my opinion, with a warm, patient smile,

And a glint in her eye, she said, “Sing from the heart.”

Many young voices, whether solo or quartet,

Duet or choir, learned from her skill and knowledge.

And as they stood on stage, group or alone.

She accompanied them with her piano and grace.

She sent them courage through the keys and direction.

Passion to sing, that was sent straight from the heart.

Now, with many years in and many songs sung,

Many lives impacted and many dreams chased,

The lights dim on a stage and notes softly echo

A promise that her melody will always live on.

Her music career is a crescendo of voices that sing,

Like her, with life, with love, in harmony, from the heart.

My Princess

2018-06-07T18:33:00.001-07:00

At three, she danced in the hall, ribbons and frills.

At six, she wore a lion costume and carried a lightsaber.

At twelve, she tackled and bumped on the soccer field.

At eighteen she, well….

No, not the woe is me, sigh melodrama role

More of the strong minded, Golde in town

Or the passionate Mrs. Darbus on stage.

No, not one to sit dreamily in a tower.

More of a get into a plane, start the engine,

And fly around the world with a grin.

No, not one to write sappy notes of castles.

More of a sassy verbal quip, speak your mind,

Fill in the hole and make a park kind of girl.

No, not one to sleep waiting for prince.

More of a “Someone got to save our skins.

Into the garbage chute flyboy.”

….well, she is that lion who roars.

She is the Jedi that fights with bright eyes.

She is that risk taker, that fighter, that warrior.

And, yeah, she is everything. She is my princess.

Be

2018-04-13T17:48:00.002-07:00

Prepping. Blocking. Understanding.

The characters’ motivation?

Got to build, create a life...Be.

Finding a voice...voices...the voices.

And the emotion...sad...angry/sad

A little more gravel in the throat?

Maybe a tad higher in pitch.

Ah...rush the words, pause, slow.

Blocking, movement, with purpose but natural

Yes. Heavy footsteps here. Sulking.

And here, younger, skipping? Perky.

A laugh before the tears, let the face fall.

And so it goes.

Tournament day. Cubes, chairs and bags

crash the halls and cafeteria.

Find a place, talk to the wall, motions subdued.

Out in the open, a fraternity of drama masks.

Round is assembled. Friendly eyes,

Thespians united, talent recognized.

Fears boxed away. Courage to the sticking place.

“Judges and timer ready?”

Put my head down and close my eyes.

Where is my place?

Is that the judge that doesn’t like me?

Draw 5 is cute.

One…

What’s my first line?

Pizza? Do they have pizza?

Did I really break into finals?

Two…

How did I get pulled into this?

Breathe

Nothing...empty my mind.

Chin up. Eyes open.

…….Be!

The Warrior

2018-04-09T14:41:00.001-07:00

Add one more to the Breakfast Club list.

With today’s battles, another is needed.

It’s the curly headed girl or freckled boy

That fights against enemies unseen.

Digital opponents, illness, social tremors,

Anxieties, and modern global madness

Attack the kids, day and dark night,

Pillaging their youth and future.

So, with their entourage, add the Warrior.

That spirit that stands tall and strong.

Armed with faith in self, love of family,

And shielded by knowledge and right.

Katie, The Warrior

2018-04-08T13:52:00.002-07:00

She sails forth, dreamy expression,

a winged cat on her shoulder.

She sails forth, armed with knowledge

and a family map of faith.

Her curly hair and bright eyes

quest the open seas in hope,

searching the rainbow wind

for answers to her questions.

She may be buffeted by storms

and attacked by doubts

She may lose her way in fogs

or trip over hidden steps.

But, Katie the Warrior, is strong

with warm heart and goofy grin.

She takes on the world with grace,

fighting, the truly good fight.

Standing boldly against the wind.

Standing fiercely in her beliefs.

Standing heroic aboard her dreams.

She is Katie, the Warrior.

Strong

2018-03-07T09:13:00.000-08:00

Roller coaster games

go with the season.

Let’s build it up.

Hard practices

Jammed fingers throb

Banged knees

A loss that hurts deep

Together, we grow…

…strong.

Rivals come at us

trying take us down.

Coach yells the mantra.

“Tough D”

“Hands high”

“Cut the baseline”

“Take care of the ball.”

Together, we breathe...

...strong.

Down by seventeen.

A title on the line.

Let’s chip away.

Crash the boards

Teamwork passing

A three

Steal the ball and go

Together, we play…

...strong

On into tournaments,

a David with a stone.

Let’s raise our chin.

Look ‘em in the eye

Let them see the fire in ours

Here we come

A team that plays hard.

Together, we stand…

...strong

Indestructable

2018-02-25T15:51:00.001-08:00

When I fall,

Or am I pulled?

Deep into the dark

Uncertainty of purpose

And identity

No one or nothing can save me.

I am buried

Like a pebble in mud,

Trapped, immobile

Clinging slog.

I can’t breathe!

I surrender,

Hopeless.

And wait to disappear.

Yet, I see me.

I see a tiny kernel

Of me,

Compacted, condensed

And real.

I am...

It’s the part if me

That cannot be crushed.

The essence of stuff

That makes me...

…Indestructible.

Wonder Woman

2017-09-17T08:05:00.000-07:00

She brought her daughters to the doctor.

One was sick and miserable, sad face pout.

The younger, six or so, bright eyed smile

wearing her Wonder Woman dress.

It was still bright red and blue, stars white.

Yet, it was worn, wrinkled, weathered.

The cape had a tattered shaggy corner.

The hem seam pulled, thread dangling.

About the waiting room, another eyes watched

as she, quietly, defended with steps and twirls.

The mother, while cradling the eldest, smiled

like the dress, a bit worn, was strong.

As mothers do, she looked about the room

Checking if her youngest was a bother.

Proud and friendly eyes met her’s
saying she is fine. We all are fine.

An elderly woman grinned and winked,

and the mother could see beyond.

Every woman had a Wonder Woman outfit

beneath their exterior of today.

Yes, some are frayed and dented

from years of life and challenges.

Some with proud pink ribbons

or battered bracelets from a fight.

Motherhood and jobs and children

pulled many threads, torn seams.

Yet, proudly she wears the colors true,

head high and shoulders square.

From the door, the doctor came in.

A young women, twenties, was with.

She had on a Wonder Woman T

and a sad face holding tears.

A quirk of fate, created this circle stage

from young to old, fresh to wise.

In the spotlight the little girl stood.

She stepped to the young woman.

Brandishing her bracelet, she spoke,

“Touch yours to mine. Have my strength.”

Mother blinked at her daughter’s words.

Yet, the young woman, grinning, kneeled.

They touch wrists, bracelet to bracelet.

Little girl dabbed the tear of the other.

“Sisters in battle,” said the little Gal.

“Sisters in life,” said the other.

There was no flash or thunder about,

but a wave of energy did surge.

Rocking the souls of the women,

Blessing their essence with power.

All about smiled, knowing, the gift

brought by the little girl in red and blue.

Taller, they became, chin high and proud.

Their strength for life bold and renewed.

What Will Your Verse Be?

2017-06-03T04:14:00.001-07:00

The graduate glances around the gym, looking for faces.

A classmate catches his eye.

She smiles, pointing to her cap

she tilts her head.

Stenciled in white on the black cap, “What will your verse be?”

She was quoting Mr. K, quoting a movie

where another Mr. K, quotes a poem.

He chuckles at the layered attribution.

...a line tickles in his brain…

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

...the lesson for the class….

a metaphor, life being the play

[pause for effect, eye contact]

“What will your verse be?”

“Was that Mr K from the movie or the class that asked?”

The question, like him, took a seat and listened.

Then it tapped him on the shoulder and whispered.

The girl, sitting not far, felt the words trickle from her cap,

drip into her veins, infuse in her blood.

“What will your verse be?”

Echoes in their thoughts,

others stepped on stage,

not the usual speakers... but visions…

Each say, My verse will be…

the soldier

...a click, me jumping, tackling my buddy from harm…

the nurse

...the hand I hold, saying it’s alright, I am here…

the mom

...you got it, I’m letting go of the bike. Woohoo, look at you…

the dad

...uh, yeah, that dress. You look...beautiful...grown up…

the cop

…drying a tear. Passing a stick of gum. We’ll find your

parents…

the fireman

...into the blaze, up the stairs, Let’s get you out of here….

the cancer patient

...today I wear bold lipstick, wear pink, and walk proud…

the artist

...inspired by life, capturing the moment of true peace…

“What will your verse be?”

...the question, like the graduation cap, had hit him again

during the celebratory rainfall of tassels and thunder of cheers.

And with a smile, he gives it back to her.

In that moment, as both hands touch the words,

they see Mr. K, a sparkle in his eye,

and his verse in their powerful play.