What Crosses My Mind

  • In High School We Believed

    Everything mattered, occurred, became known, whether we wanted notoriety or a simple life as a student.   Remember walking the halls, feeling the eyes, wondering about thinking that could expose your own state of mind.   I remember they told me otherwise, so I trusted their ideal, and when the walls caved in they were…

  • 3rd Desk From The Wall

    I sit down alone here, my desk, my refuge for the hour, no one can touch me here oh there might be eyes, occasional grunts, perhaps even a wad of paper, beyond that I have a teacher knows I sit here I sit in the 3rd desk from the wall every day until yesterday. ~…

  • When We Last Spoke

    That incident in the hallway, seemed a thing of the past, I thought we were moving forward, didn’t think their strength would last. When we last spoke, you smiled and said good-bye, the same way you had since we met in second grade. ~ High school coming to an end, the next chapter, so many…

  • Self Suggestive Observations

    We did remember a time when people stood for what they believed. There was strength in numbers as we together rallied our cry. Standing on street corners, waving banners, asking for a voice to hear the anxiety driven pleas of the masses wanting them home. Eventually, our desire, plan, our goals seem to have been…

  • Whispers

    Draw me close you hear my words. The fear is real, leaving the notion of conversation a remote tragedy. I would watch everyone walk by until alone I could survey the remainder. That is when the peace arrives, when the whispers have faded into the concrete walls of an early morning encounter, testing my will…

  • Days Like These … (on bullying) prose

    I often wonder about my passions in life. I know I became a teacher for a reason, but that isn’t always enough to satisfy my curiosity. I love my job, I love the students I work with, and love all the challenges that come with my classroom and the stage work that occurs after the…

  • People Plowing Fields

    There were these conversations I tried to be a part of One might think of them as argument When you listened closely I would often wonder about outcomes How the voices might corroborate Given the angst shared in dialogue Certainly lacks some collaboration One afternoon later in the summer I saw two or three participants…

  • True Within My Soul

    When I am alone Blue skies, in autumn I delight in the splendour ~ I can discard the hate That swells around me When people wreak allowances Ugly Venom Coursing through their veins In a supported fashion of Real Driven Pain ~ Back here I lay my body on the natural earth And feel the…