Tuesday, November 29, 2011

really bad tuesday haiku

the cold rain sinks like
my spirits. misery--gray,

in semester's end.
the year itself sputters. would
that the world felt new

as cycling once did,
before icy space between
love and learning made

my job as moot as
raking leaves from my lawn hours
before the first snow.


  1. I heart this haiku
    its suspended emotions
    In alphabet form

  2. This poem more than makes up for that horrific VidShizzle posted below.

    Thanks, GLG.

  3. this really is a cold, rainy, crappy day, ain't it?

  4. I really like the "icy space between love and learning made." Nice!

    I'll build on that...

    My student reads
    And his voice is like a bayonet
    Pointed, but no inflexion
    Cold steel between my heart
    And a poem I once loved
    Killing the words with noises
    Camouflaged as words
    Scraping on my cold ribs

  5. Even in virtual form
    the papers pile up faster
    than I can read them --
    new ones, revised ones,
    long-overdue ones landing like the last oak leaf
    atop the snow.

    The end of the semester will wipe
    all clean,
    January a blank field of sparkling white.

    In the meantime,
    I rake,
    and shovel,
    and strive to create
    at least the illusion of order,

  6. The end of the semester will wipe
    all clean,

    ...and then "flush"...

    January a blank field of sparkling white

    ...is severed from the roll, folded gently, and prepared for another semester in the chasm between ivy covered walls...

  7. AdjunctSlave, Contingent Cassandra, Contemplative Cynic--beautiful verses! Some gorgeous images here.

    I've been saying throughout my time here at CM that I think the world would be a better place if people write more poetry; I know I feel better when I write it--bad though it really, really is.

    I've had a wretched term at LD3C, a really bad half-year, actually--personal as well as teaching, but the teaching misery compounded everything else--and I completely lost my sense of humor for a while. In fact, I completely lost my ability to express my misery in any form. I just shut down.

    This week, though something cracked open finally and that little ditty came out all in one breath, I think. I have no delusions about myself as a poet (i.e., I'm a lousy wordsmith), but writing those lines actually made me feel better.

    More so, I think writing my misery in verse made me feel better than writing any other straightforward rant could have.

    Thank the universe for CM--and those who write in verse!


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