Wanting To Be Struck Again

Gray sheathes of dark matter

waft upon a soul in peril

In the Heavens we gather

all of our apparel.

Once before I could cry

now today

cannot figure out why

instead lay

my heart down to this struggle

a constant reminder

of how life can truly boggle

the mind. Tossed under

the evening dew a spiritual

reckoning occurs

yet with every attempt a virtual

depression lingers.

Would that my life could be simple

than perhaps yours,

yet I examine when time is brittle

I begin to question futures.

What We Do

On a near morning,

duty will call,

the rise of another nation

of children, all eager minds

willing to listen

only if provided

our correct animation.

Methodical minds

will test the limits

while the year winds

with levels of commotion.

We need to return

our lives are their mortar

feel the grains, the seed

when melted in knowledge

castle walls may appear

with inviting hallows.

I would if I might

venture to suggest

my world is less important

than the guest rooms,

backseats, extended stays,

low-income, palatial platforms

single-family fortress our

charges will depart

to grace the hallways

wandering, wondering, whether

this classroom is worth

their precious time.

When next the hour

suggests we smile,

we will include passion

to advocate the beauty

of their timeless soul.

Take Me Home

i wandered along the river bank,

a crystal churn of noise nearby

always a good reminder of life

when caught inside the chasm’s grip.

~

There lies inside the mind

a certain ineptitude

when given an opportunity

to seize our clues to good.

~

Easily pulled inside the current

our waves of deceit to follow

welcome only the pure horrid

reality of knowing our truth.

~

step lightly on soils drawn

into the waters so fragile

our lives remain moving

forward in a straight line

~

wind, that pulls apart

our soul and manner

of living, to dream

a bit  downstream

~

I wonder how many

times, the river cross

I might bear again,

in hopes of home.

~

Perhaps a seat cushion

the soil damp on skin,

in Nature’s grasp

I win the freedom to live

~

What ails the heart soon

drawn along the river’s edge.

Who Do We Serve?

I open my curtains and the light shatters the room with brilliance,

such is the life of a teacher on opening day of the school year.

Fresh minds invade the quiet peace of a marble castle

only to gradually tear down the mortar slivered throughout walls

of academic prowess. These are our children, these are their needs,

and we are licensed to bring them to the next level.

I haven’t cashed out yet, so allow me a story please.

I like to be loved, liked, thought of as a good person,

I usually count on that to battle the voices in my head.

While the days go by I will encounter eager minds,

the students that will live our lives over again tomorrow.

I wish their happiness,

i wish their dreams to explode with much success,

I need to certainly understand my life as I stand here

is designed for them if that is the legacy I choose.

So feel the brilliant rays take over the room,

here we are together on a journey for the year.

Let’s realize goodness together, and let’s hope my hope

is the offer of support, guidance and exemplar notes ahead.

Watch Me Unravel

I stand before you with all the humanity I can possibly muster,

yet, I will be sure to cover it up with some facade of well being.

~

I realize we must bring to our students the best of our wares,

and while doing so, I will need to be a guiding mentor indeed.

~

There’s a certain beauty in being a planned member of society,

rather than simply living by the seat of my pants.

~

A classroom of empty desks, all readying themselves for new souls,

those that will embrace the passion being garnered by a mentor.

~

I stand before you my colleagues and express my genuine concern,

please help me find my stability, the energy that helps this room to move.

~

A day of staff development that all of us with little question agreed,

could better be spent doing shots at a local brewery nearby, (oops)

~

Ah, but alas, that is the part we always suggest at the start of the year,

will be put aside to endear and engage the souls of our assigned siege.

~

I am easily delighted by a smile, a joke, or an off-handed remark,

that allows me to be less human just for only a short time more.

~

Before the legions arise over the horizon in numbers of greatest need,

stomping through the wheat fields whose harvest has passed me by.

~

Strap up, grab a writing utensil, notice the purpose of my white boards,

with a delightful smile, open the door while we let our humanity join hands.

Standards and Values

oh to delineate the mix of passions,

when all the heads converge in mourning,

the start of their own quiet circus,

to be revealed upon the main stage.

~

Theirs is a craft unlike any other,

a territorial nirvana perhaps in eyes

solo to the universe. Nearby, questions

always remain, tamed in discretion.

~

What heaven-sent ideals do bring

out the comfort of each participant,

in a common measure of sanity

in the beholder’s eyes we worry.

~

Often so easily forgotten in the flurry

of the day’s planning, the memory

that divines a lesson plan, suddenly

shattered in the throes of our humanity.

~

We are really simple folk with a passion

toward reaching the mecca, the pinnacle,

the over-arching, pendulum swaying

essence of a child’s swift education.

~

Numbers and charts, workable Venn

diagrams litter the monitors today.

Each professed design uniquely stable

in the eyes of the frightened minion.

~

Today begins again a journey everyone

familiar can appreciate, the anxiety,

the euphoric nature of creating a glint

in the eye of our student awaits.

~

This year, “I will reach more of them”

is the common phrase said quietly

while watching, looking, stealing

the ideas of our neighbor the teacher.

~

In a moment of purposeful disdain,

we accept the standards, the bubbles

remain in the minds of our surrogate

‘elder’ whose design we must enrich.

~

Remember, my elbow partner, to breathe

while we again beckon a desire to teethe.

The Door is Open

How remarkable to imagine

another period of our lives

measured in time, in knowledge,

in hopes, in tribulations, in grief,

in discovery, in coming of age,

the doors are opening

all across the horizon,

in each avenue of growth,

in every challenge to our passion.

the doors are opening

to allow minds to become alert

to a world that begins with their eyes,

while guided by principles we offer

in humble contrast to our own

quiet ignorance with allowance.

the doors are opening,

and in walk our lives

as a young child or old messenger,

we each might enjoy the bounty

we offer one another in peace.

the doors are opening,

let’s welcome the stroll.