From the vaults...

Erin and her ELD (English Language Development) class inspired me! They are working on a Poetry Unit. Today's format was "odes".

Unfortunately my inspiration can only take me so far. We are down to two "real" school days left and then five sort of half-day, limited learning days. It's crunch time. Papers to edit at lightning speed. Grades to enter in our snail-paced, online system.

So rather than writing new odes, I scrounged through my email account and found the only two odes I have written in the last ten years.

The first is a silly sort of a poem I wrote in my college poetry class. I liked it and took the time to turn it in and all... but again... it was silly. I was really surprised to find my instructor thought it was a publishable piece of work.

"Ode to My Muse"

Silver parka pulled back to reveal you
The flexible powdered 2X4
I fold you in half
With my thumb and forefinger
Toss you carelessly to my cave of communication.

Like a cat’s Mickey (or Minnie)
My teeth
My tongue
Beat you into a misshapen mess

I tinker and toy with you
(But I mean you no pain)
Truth is
You challenge and motivate me

You were there for me when I tripped into love
(You were there for me when love tripped me back.)
You were there for me when I grew out of school
(You were there for me when I grew into school)

It’s been you and me, kid
More times that I can calculate
(even with your company in my math tests)

This poem is for you,
My sweet inspiration.
(I could not have done it without you.)

Can you guess it? Do you know what my muse in college really was?

The second ode I wrote after living in Quinhagak for three weeks. Those of you living out here on the delta, familiar with what the term "honeybucket" means, will probably understand this piece right away. For the rest of you... mwhaaa haaa haaa. Try to research your way into understanding. I dare you!

"Ode to my Honey"

It is around 6:30 am and I'm
taking a stroll with my honey.
In my left hand, naked without
its watch, is a flashlight
that unsteadily illuminates the
gravel path. My time piece
battery went dead and the town
store doesn't stock them. I'm
adapting.

My right hand busies itself
with my pale, pure companion.
Their sweet, firey familiar
scent will remain with me after
we part. I know this because
this is the morning ritual we
share, everyday, at the
pre-dawn-break.

In all honesty it's the only
time we have together worth
reflecting upon.

Neither of us hardly speaks
and when we do it's silly
triflings, a song stuck in my
head, my do-not-forget plans
for the school day. These
words are not for my partner,
the one so much a part of me,
but rather for myself.

For when one spends such
intimate time together with
their honey, sometimes... words
are needed to break the
uncomfortableness of the drop.