Finding myself behind on my NaPoWriMo is not that unusual for April. For some reason, both WriMos happen in months that are especially overloaded for those in academia, April and November.
This year, that overload is exasperated by additionally tag teaming home school duties for my first grader and a fatigue of the screen that is surprising to even me.
Just so, when those rare moments do open up for writing, I try to do my best to embrace them.
Here I sit in a dark room, toddler sleeping behind me, husband playing games downstairs, and enough additional essays graded after 8pm to not feel guilty about quitting at 10pm.
The stay at home orders of the pandemic have resulted in weird emotional roller coasters, I think for everyone. If it isn't me, it's my children, or au pair, or husband, or family, or neighbors, or co-workers, or students. My students in particular seem to get hit pretty heavily when those lows come.
And I have never wanted to write my article about the necessity of a classroom policy rooted in kindness than ever before... but perhaps, in May.
For now, I'll have to take the short but meaningful opportunities I get to eek out tiny, organic spurts of poetry, when my mind is not too overloaded from too many words, too many emotions, too many too manys.
So, let's see what I've got to offer tonight...
I got a good half hour writing in here, perhaps a little more! The first poem was because it was rainy today and I had to start somewhere, the next attempts to lightly address compliance to staying at home, and the third puts words to a feeling I've seen across, not just my own offices, but the social media feeds and emails of k-12 teachers across the states. But the final one, "Goodnight World" is my favorite, as I started with something whimsical and just ran with it.
Enjoy!
NaPoWriMo 5:
"A Good Storm"
I love a good storm
one that cracks the sky
flooding the air
with pressure
with wind
A good storm
draws us out of
our daily ticking
causes the second hand to stutter
till it st-st-sticks
and we abandon
tasks
drawn to the rumble
NaPoWriMo 6:
"Stay At Home Order"
Fold me into this quiet Earth
and kiss me good day
drop the keys that keep me here
lose the keys that drive me away
and shut the door tight
Should I long to wander
should I beg to roam
be it no further than my weary feet
can carry the weight of me
and make the journey slow
NaPoWriMo 7:
"A Teacher Missing Students"
A teacher is never quite a parent
And a parent is a fickle teacher
Their loves are different branches
of a very wide tree
and yet a bond is forged over
schedules and rubrics and goals
an intricate weave from the splinters of routine
and encouragement
the sharing of dreams
that makes us utter 'mine'
as earnestly as a parent naming child
and which makes the heart pang
when all the schools are closed
NaPoWriMo 8:
"Goodnight World"
I want to whisper to the world
and help it fall asleep
to hold its big blue hand
as it spins into the night
and sneak across the creaky stars
to turn on its moon light
and if it wakes and rumbles
or needs another drink
I'd sink against its rolling hills
and hold it til there's not another peep
I would sing it the best lullaby
this side the milky way
kiss it on its north most pole
and pull tight its cloudy shade
and as I tip toed into the universe
to do whatever night time things parents do
I'd turn back just one more time
to whisper I love you
This year, that overload is exasperated by additionally tag teaming home school duties for my first grader and a fatigue of the screen that is surprising to even me.
Just so, when those rare moments do open up for writing, I try to do my best to embrace them.
Here I sit in a dark room, toddler sleeping behind me, husband playing games downstairs, and enough additional essays graded after 8pm to not feel guilty about quitting at 10pm.
The stay at home orders of the pandemic have resulted in weird emotional roller coasters, I think for everyone. If it isn't me, it's my children, or au pair, or husband, or family, or neighbors, or co-workers, or students. My students in particular seem to get hit pretty heavily when those lows come.
And I have never wanted to write my article about the necessity of a classroom policy rooted in kindness than ever before... but perhaps, in May.
For now, I'll have to take the short but meaningful opportunities I get to eek out tiny, organic spurts of poetry, when my mind is not too overloaded from too many words, too many emotions, too many too manys.
So, let's see what I've got to offer tonight...
I got a good half hour writing in here, perhaps a little more! The first poem was because it was rainy today and I had to start somewhere, the next attempts to lightly address compliance to staying at home, and the third puts words to a feeling I've seen across, not just my own offices, but the social media feeds and emails of k-12 teachers across the states. But the final one, "Goodnight World" is my favorite, as I started with something whimsical and just ran with it.
Enjoy!
NaPoWriMo 5:
"A Good Storm"
I love a good storm
one that cracks the sky
flooding the air
with pressure
with wind
A good storm
draws us out of
our daily ticking
causes the second hand to stutter
till it st-st-sticks
and we abandon
tasks
drawn to the rumble
NaPoWriMo 6:
"Stay At Home Order"
Fold me into this quiet Earth
and kiss me good day
drop the keys that keep me here
lose the keys that drive me away
and shut the door tight
Should I long to wander
should I beg to roam
be it no further than my weary feet
can carry the weight of me
and make the journey slow
NaPoWriMo 7:
"A Teacher Missing Students"
A teacher is never quite a parent
And a parent is a fickle teacher
Their loves are different branches
of a very wide tree
and yet a bond is forged over
schedules and rubrics and goals
an intricate weave from the splinters of routine
and encouragement
the sharing of dreams
that makes us utter 'mine'
as earnestly as a parent naming child
and which makes the heart pang
when all the schools are closed
NaPoWriMo 8:
"Goodnight World"
I want to whisper to the world
and help it fall asleep
to hold its big blue hand
as it spins into the night
and sneak across the creaky stars
to turn on its moon light
and if it wakes and rumbles
or needs another drink
I'd sink against its rolling hills
and hold it til there's not another peep
I would sing it the best lullaby
this side the milky way
kiss it on its north most pole
and pull tight its cloudy shade
and as I tip toed into the universe
to do whatever night time things parents do
I'd turn back just one more time
to whisper I love you
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