Anything!

About Anything!

I was talking and working with some elementary students today. We were studying some poetry and they shared some of their poems.  I showed them poetry can be about anything. So in the last few posts, I thought about how this National Poetry Month and I had better start writing and contributing more frequently to this beloved blog.  I also decided that it would be about whatever.  I am playing around with inventing characters or speakers in my poems in different situations.  Just playing around really!  It has me intrigued when the block of the poet hits me strong!  My response it to write a bunch of gibberish.  Who knows?  It might turn out to be something interesting...or not!

Anything?

Poetry can be about

Anything

Anything?

Really?

You must be joking

You must be jiving

Pulling my leg

Hoodwinking

Thoughts sinking

Rising to the top!

Stop for a sec!

Poetry can simply be

about anything

Dearie!

Anything 

you please!

Naw!

That can't be true!

I thought it had to be sonnets

 or iambic pentameter

maybe a Haiku

A cinquain

or two

Hold the phone!

Stop this tumultuous train!

You are sayin'

Poetry can be 

'bout anything?

It can be about

a rain drop

a three year stuffed up kid

with no Kleenex

and don't be grossed out

but he's got some serious

snot

running down his face

seems a bit out of place 

in the Museum of

perfection

Just goo really

if you think of it that way

It's all in your point

of vista

view to you

It can be about

your mama

papa 

and baby too

I can be about

your ugly old trip to the zoo

with koalas from Lam Pour

who's run out the door

searching for 

some Eucalyptus

or some trip to 

Kenya?

I dunno

but what I do

Poetry, Poetry can be

just about you!

It can rhyme

all the time

or survive in

free

free verse

without the curse or two

Yes, poetry, poetry

can be about anything

even little, unimportant you!

You can read tons

You can search far

but the advice that I give

is right on par

with Tiger Woods

and Jack Nicolas too!

Why not start your own anthology

in the class of psychology

about the minuscule little you!

Poetry

To be continued in a theatre near you!

Words

Words
by Maureen Ucles

Words, Words, Words

Stay on this 

page, page, page

Going no where

fast--

sometimes slow

These words, words, words

haunt me

taunt me

jaunt me

into reality

I can't write!

Words, words, words

on this page

stage

monitor

Where will you go?

From here

I dunno

these blasted 

words

words

words

I am stuck

words

consonants

vowels

utterances

smutterances

divulging

nothing

'cept

my useless

block

inside 

my brain

no

words, words, words

can express

what

needs to come out

wanna just shout

out

to those ugly

stingy

nasty

words, words, words

On A Roll

On A Roll
By Maureen Ucles

I am on a roll

In the zone

waiting for some kinds

of

baritones

just hold the phone

cause

these words

are like

a 

debilitating

disease

that's gone 

viral 

or pandemic

flu-like

if you will

two million hits

on 

Youtube

or 

Twitter?

I am in the zone

just flowing

and knowing

that these

words

might just

take flight

and 

grow some

dendrites

or was it

retinas?

and maybe

just maybe

some 

eye

sight

Am I hopeless?

What's my plight?

But what do I know?

Me?

Little old me?

No quite enough

to know

that I shouldn't be

writing these

words 

or even

contemplate 

letting them go

take flight

'cause

I am not 

accomplished

sophisticated

just right

or write?

like 

Billy Collins

or the other

pros

whose

job it is to

know

and grow

these words

like the sages

on the stages

paying pennies

on the dollar

or worse

 minimum wages

lost in kennels

or cages

I am in another world

flying to and fro

letting these palabras

fly

emerge

diverge

the truth

in some

strange

kinda way

but I jest

or do I play?

Can you really take me seriously?

just want to say

'cause I

want these words

to diverge

formulate

and

start 

articulate

bring in the lawyers now

to litigate

some irate

road 

rage

persona

in 

H-town 

around 

five thirty

o'clock

Hey

dude!

Calmate

and

put your unwarranted anger

danger

away

let it go

no need

to say 

a little dirge

while 

letting

that offensive-like bird

disappear

from the hand

no need

to get 

all 

defensive...

driving?

Yeah

go on

with your bad self

move on

Some people--

Really now--

just let it go

save it for a rainy day

soothing

pounding

sound of rain

dancing 

in the streets

cooling down

feeling the crown

placed to the side

of my mind

these palabras

starting to stop

halt

don't go there

running out

on empty

no money

broke

like my grandma's

rocking chair

leaning

slightly

ready to caer

off this page

Where's the sage?

Gone for the day!

What?

It's that time already!

Time to go

and get ready

to post

this

crazy

looking

poor-excuse-for-a

poem

Just ask Billy Collins

Hoy en dia

Hoy en dia

Hoy en dia

voy a hacer mejor

que ayer

asi es

le dice la gente

Hoy en dia

voy a amanecer 

con ganas

muchas ganas

aprender

algo

lo que

sea

Hoy en dia

disfrutare

luchare

batallare

iluminare

mi mente

Hoy en dia

tengo

mucho que hacer

refleccionar 

cuando pueda

si sea posible

hoy

hoy en dia

Kat Porter

 I love me some serious Jack in the Box large tea with 4 Truvia packets to sweeten it just so.  It reminds me of a very special next door neighbor lady that my mom loved to call Kat Porter.  Katherine Porter was a lady I knew for many, many years.  She was my mom's best friend.  Every morning they would sit out on their back porches and shoot the breeze.  These beautiful ladies would drink their cup of liquid mudd and smoke their cigarettes, as they discussed the comings and goings in town.  Katherine would say, "Well, you know Betty....." then the latest news would fly.  I would sit on the steps shucking some corn or snapping the half runner green beans into a huge pot.  Listening to all the stories of days gone by and current gossip brought me into Kat's world.  She was quite the story teller.  My brother Greg and sister Diane could listen for hours as she captivated us with her humor and laughter.  When a detail would get juicy we knew it because she would whisper it.  We hung on her every whispered word.  It wasn't as if we still couldn't hear her from her porch, in the house next door.  And oohhh the jokes!  She had us in stitches with all her crazy jokes.  I don't know how she remembered so many and she never ever messed up any of them  She possessed great comedic timing. None like her, none!  When she would speak about something or someone that was bothering her she would always end her soliloquy with a, "Betty, why do I have kids? Betty why do......?"  I use it to this day.  When my cats are driving me crazy I say in her tone of voice, "Elizabeth why do we have cats? Why?  Why do we have???  Dogs? ect.."

I have wondered off the beaten path  just a  little cause I know you are saying...what's that got to do with Jack in the Box Tea?  Well, if you have to know....that tea with 4 packets of Truvia tastes like Katherine Porter's tea.  As a kid, I would run to her house to get a glass of her sweet, sweet, beyond sweet, ice tea.  It was the best!  I trace my love of ice tea to Catherine Porter.  She knew how to make some great tea.  I loved it!

Biscuits anyone?  Biscuits?
I fondly remember that she could make the best biscuits in the world.  My mom still claims to this day that Katherine's biscuits are, by far, the best in Ohio.  She made them from scratch and they were huge.I mean Empire- State- Building- HUMONGOUS  Eating one of her biscuits tended to be way more than enough because it was gigantic.It weighed maybe 5 pounds.  I kid you not! I'd put some strawberry jelly or my mom's homemade apple butter on one of them. Mmmmm!  Mmmmm!  Mmmmm! The butter would melt and the apple butter would run all over the sides and cover my fingers(to be savored later).  The biscuit would crumble with brown apple butter and stain my shirt and fall onto my lap.  The side of my mouth would be covered! I felt embarrassed to have my face look so slobbish but it didn't really matter.  It was filling and simply delicious.
Katherine made some enormous biscuits but it didn't stop there.  No, she should have been from Texas cause most of her dishes that she served took up lots of space in my stomach and on the plates she used.
Katherine's pancakes would fill a whole entire plate. They were golden brown and semi thick. It was good and  I never finished one because the enormity of it all.
The last thing I remember about how she cooked was her hamburgers.  One day my mom had to do some errands when I was around 4 years old so I stayed with Katherine.  She made me some lunch. She asked me if I wanted to eat a hamburger.  I was hungry so I agreed.  I thought it would be a small hamburger like my mom always made.  When she served it up I could believe it.  That hamburger was a sight to see. It could be described as a 7th wonder of the world.  My goodness!  "Goodness, Gracious!"  I probably said a thousand times in a stupor. That thing was monstrous.  It was maybe 5 inches thick surrounded by Wonder white-stick-the-roof-your-mouth Bread.  I didn't think I'd be able to bite it. I thought I might get lock jaw or something. I needed a knife and fork to cut it up.That kinda burger was fit for some BIG person like Andre the Giant.  Wow!  She then covered it with mayonaise and mustard. She added  a few pickles and a slice of onion.  I wasn't hungry for a week or was it a month?  I can't quite recall.

I miss Katherine a lot! I know my mom misses her something awful since she died from cancer.  I still have dreams about visiting her.  In my dreams she keeps moving to a new house miles away.  I get terribly sad, in my dreams, because I want to just sit on the porch next to her chair, near the stair and hear those stories. I'd put away a big burger with the sweetest tea in Southern Ohio.  Catherine was quite a hoot!  Her words echo in my heart and my memories.  "You aggravating piece of plunder!" she used to say laughing. "Betty, well you know....(whisper)". How I long to listen to her again! But ya know, when I think about it, she's still alive in me. I murmur, " I can still hear you Cat Porter, you don't have to whisper anymore."

Young Poets in the Wild 2015

          

                                    Young Poets in the Wild

                                                                 The drafts are rough,

don't be so tough

on the writing

of these young poets

Just take a glimpse

Peer into

These brilliant minds,

without a doubt

 within their souls

you will find-- 

creativity

expressivity

sometimes

they actually

exude 

confidence.

Understand?

Capisce?

Okay...

 Here's hoping

you do

Without further adieu

Let me

introduce to you

Young poets

 in the Wild

and their poetry

-- By Maureen Ucles

Play!

By RR

I jump

I shake

I dance

I hop

I swing

I twist

I cannot stop

I scoot

and roll

across the floor

I spin in circles

out the door

I run

outside

I leap

I skip

I bounce

I slide

I swing

I fling

but I'm still careful

I don't

trip

How I Feel!!

By AV

When I do my homework

I feel in my head fireworks

When I play soccer,

I feel like I'm

running away

from a toro

in a rodeo

Everytime I eat,

I just want to go

to Itz

a restaurant

Sometimes

I feel ants

on my head and brain

What do I feel in school??

I feel like I am famous

because I am so cool.

When I climb a tree,

I think of being a professional

in soccer

and can play soccer

in the street

This is so sweet!!!

My Best Friend

by JG

My best friend

My best friend

My best friend

is nice.

My best friend

is kind.

My best friend

My best friend

My best friend