Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Motherhood teaches me

Running beside my oldest 

Accomplishment and pride

Her efforts and determination push her on

Learning that all good things take effort

Life is work


Holding my little boy's hand

Smooth and thin

His nails against my skin remind me with a smile 

We forgot to trim his nails at the last bath

They grow only older


Watching my oldest toddler dance

Whimsical and unembarrassed

Her soft body moves copying the street dancer

We forget what it's like to live

In the beauty of each day


Handing the baby-kid his teddybear 

Love and joy

His tight hugs and pursed kisses

Demonstrating it is a condition of the heart

To be happy


Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Stretching

Little toes 
push into my knees
His body is long
It unraveled overnight,
It seems.
His softness fades slowly
As I cherish the moment 
His even breath 
And arms around my neck
His persistence has worn me down 
But I can still smile 
as I listen to him sleep
Finally.
It sounds the same 
as when he nuzzled at my breast 
Years ago now.
Tomorrow he will be longer still 
his cherub flesh stretching
Into boy.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Day's End

 and there goes the Day
 jauntily marching out the door
 his laughter wears me
 as a badge, as a blow

 he d’n’t overstay
 ditching his mess upon the floor
 stranded, he’s left me
 there in a silent row

 evidence away
 try, rid the place of his decor         
 there’s a guarantee
 there will always be mo’e

 nothing left to say
 for perpetual is the chore
 and the confetti
 welcome Day, tomorrow
 

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

The Red Wagon (Part 2)


So here we have this nonreturnable personalized wagon. Which, let's be honest, I've always wanted for my kids. So we let them play with it in the yard, and we go on walks with it.

Sunday evening we went on a walk with it after General Conference.

We turned down a street we never have before. Neither of us brought any electronic devices, and finding ourselves in a dead end had to turn around. By this time the kids were tired and had switched in and out of the wagon walking or riding and Giddy was getting all jealous of Mom holding hands with Dad so the middle two were in the wagon. Olea trailed with us.

I watched the middle two and listened to their laughter as they leaned over the side of the wagon trailing sticks in the white shell-sand road. I soaked in the feeling of Giddy clutching tightly around my neck as I held him on my chest. I wanted a picture, but didn't have one so took a snapshot with my heart.

Life at it's best.


The Red Wagon

Daddy pulls the red wagon 

In a winding path
Creating soft ruts in the fragmented shells
Their two heads jostle 

each on a soft arm resting over the side
Their other arms drag a stick pressed into the ground
Like sparklers in the sandy road
leaving snakelike wiggles behind them for the length of our travel
Giggles at the simple joy peak and die
as they watch the sand spray
and listen to it grind and fall
In harmony with the wagon wheels

She wanders behind
skipping back and forth in the lines
as Daddy pulls the red wagon.


Hold
 
His arms clutch 
warm and squishy 
solid in his resolve 
to hang on
to Mommy
I wrap my arms
snug against him 
creating a seat
hanging on to my hips to anchor it
as I walk with him
carried against me
his sweet curls catch
in my eyes 
his kisses saturate my cheek 
his little hands pat my back
renew and tighten his grip 

Monday, August 1, 2011

Summer's end: Diamante

Today Olea had a friend over for a few hours and to keep Zurich and Nev away from them we made more Monsters at Zurich's request. I burned myself worse than I ever have with a hot glue gun today. Let's put that down in the record books... After Olea's friend left Olea wanted to make another one too. (She got to) But that wasn't today's project. By this time Nev had enjoyed her puppet and put herself down for a nap. I figured that was probably best for today's project.

Writing poetry.

I chose a format: Diamante poem

I had the kids play with Cooties to keep their wiggles busy and then I asked the kids some questions. First I asked them what they wanted their poem to be about. What change they wanted to happen in their poem and then I asked them to describe different things to me. I used their responses to fill in the blanks so to speak. We did Zurich's first because I thought his would be hardest... Not so. He answered the questions I asked and Olea kept over thinking it. It worked out though, and Zurich's disclaimer is that his sister poisoned his mind that his tree poem should have fairies in it.

Here is a little sound blip from my questioning in our poem creation. They had to say the word in direct response to a question about their poem for it to be used. I did rearrange some of the words to help the flow, but they are the kid's work. Listening to them I wonder how I last through the day.... :)
Here is a sound bite from the creation of Olea's poem: and Zurich's: http://blip.tv/file/get/CorettiConfetti-FoundPoetry237.m4a

After their poems were written I let each of them type up as much of it as they wanted and then I finished typing the rest for them.

I read Zurich his poem and he picked a font and a color and then using google images he picked some pictures to go around his poem. I was impressed as he sat on my lap humming and hawing over the right images as he was very focused on the subject of his poem. Olea too had very definite ideas of the images and the way she wanted it to look.

When they each were satisfied we printed their poems out to hang on their magnet boards in their rooms after showing them to Daddy, of course.

The kids wanted to share all the monster puppets they have made.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Lament



Oh,
the Ponytails

that shouldn't have been


Mowhawks that could be
Curls to fluff
Locks to sniff
and restyle

Oh,

it was time

that's what he said.


Head,
looking like it
was
shaved for brain surgery

Time,

to cut.


Goodbye little locks.

Zurich's hair was just getting too long... I loved the little ducky curls in the back, but the sides just weren't growing and he was starting to look like the sides were shaved in preparation for brain surgery. Gary said it was time to cut the little man's hair. He looks cute still, don't get me wrong, but I miss his little curls. :( He did really well, he didn't mind the clippers, it actually made him stop crying... putting the pony tail in back is what made him cry. cut away

Thursday, February 12, 2009

No point recreating

This pregnancy seems to be going pretty fast.
There are lots of reasons it seems that way.
But at the same time these last months are dragging...
and it's funny because today I was feeling a familiar feeling
that strangely enough I wrote a poem about at two months before having Zurich...
Which is where I am at now... (two months before due date)
and since I think it says it so well (since I said it)
and since I've already said it
there is no point recreating a poem
that already exists...

Pregnancy


Bloom, radiance, pregnancy
Warm bile rises in my throat
Yet, I smile at the pressure
Rolls, kicks in my blowfish belly

Ache, stiff, effort
My activity cut short
Yet, I warm as I feel
Personality, life growing within

Crazy, forgetful, sacrifice
Personal desires delayed
Yet, I find a balance of joy as I
Grow, work, prepare to bring life

Monday, January 26, 2009

Motherhood

Today I regress
I confess...
I can't understand.

Thinking I've got it--
mostly,
under control.

Systems worked out
rewards and incentives
disciplines and chastisements:

Expected behavior.

Suddenly,

is missing...
I am nonplussed.

Today I regress
I confess...
I have no notion
of what I am doing.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Zub Zub one year Zub

Zurich's Song

Oh, here comes a little gentleman
All royal in his garb
His charms are quick
His smiles are bright
His eyes a regal blue
Oh Zurich, Zurich Byron we're so happy to have you

His quest begins with strapping bands
and fighting Jaundice with the blue
And he has triumphed as ere a knight would do
"Oh Zurich, Zurich Byron," the cheer goes out as he comes riding in

Like a captain he leads the lands to peace
with his mild and honored ways
Yet, he will keep you guessing all his days
"Oh Zurich, Zurich Byron," the cheer goes out as he comes riding in

Monday, November 3, 2008

Fog

Today I greeted the white misty morning. It made me recal a poem I wrote back in the day... you know back when I was the one running to school rather than watching elementary school children run amid the fog, through my window.

FOG

Like stage lighted smoke

Fog rushes at running feet

Misted drafty day.


Though I have this poem memorized... really hard, I know, I still wanted to find the source file for it... and it brought back lots of memories as I looked though years of poetry. I love writing it... I love seeing life lyrically. I have to remind myself of this sometimes.



Friday, August 15, 2008

Because He REALLY Loves Me

Because he really loves me
occasionally
he sends me flowers
orange
because he notices
how I'm growing to love it
gerbers and callas because he knows
they are my favorite

Because he really loves me
he braves it all
the unknown, the dangerous
dirty, and heavy
because he knows
it makes me happy to create
he builds a place for me
works everyday for me

Because he really loves me
a nap
he gives me, keeps them quiet
even if he's been up just as late
because he knows my fuzzy brain
and wants me happy
lives what I told him
Because he really loves me


Monday, June 30, 2008

Promises, Promises

Sauerkraut soup from Aunt Joyce

4 1/2c. water
4 med. potatoes peeled & cubed
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 lb. sausage (Dixee uses hot dogs or polish hot dogs)
1 can (16oz) sauerkraut un-drained
1 med. onion chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1 Tbls. fresh dill weed OR 1 tsp. Dried
1/2 tsp. caraway seed
1 cup sour cream to 1 Tbls flour
Bring water, potatoes & salt to boil Cook until tender. Add sauerkraut, onion, garlic, dill & caraway. Bring to boil In sm bowl, combine flour & sour cream. Gradually stir about 1 c. of hot mixture into sour cream mixture. Return all to saucepan. Blend well. Heat through but do not boil.Season to taste with salt & pepper. Add a few tsp of sugar for less tart flavor. Enjoy

I promised I would post it. Look at me keeping my promises. I also finally found this picture that my husband had asked for. It is Olea around Easter time when she was about ten months old. She is on the back lawn at my parent's house, she is watching Gary I think.
He fell in love with this picture when paired with a poem I wrote. It was first featured (wow that sounds special) in one of our anniversary books.
Our anniversary book is a mini book I make every year for our anniversary that has the past year's memories in it. Some sort of article, poetry, funny things unique to our relationship, dumb things we have said, year in review (things we did, places we went, large items we purchased). Documentation of what we did for the previous year's anniversary etc. Each year is themed appropriately to that past year, like one year it looked like medical bills since we raked up quite a bit or blue prints since we bought our house etc. They all belong in a clam shell box, (green thing on the left) to keep them nice. And what happens when you fill up the box at 10 years? I have to divorce him, I guess. No, of course I make a new clam shell box to put our next 10 years in etc. etc. We just celebrated our 5th anniversary in April. They look pretty plain but they are full of laughs, sentiments and memories.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Mother's Day

Every time this day rolls around I seem to be in the worst shape. Tired, cranky, and impatient and not feeling like a good mom at all. But while trying to take a nap I couldn't sleep because of the feelings I had experienced earlier in the day. So instead I expressed it the way I know how to. As a note my mother's favorite flowers are carnations.

Today, I got a carnation
I thought of you
and the stem, Zurich
promptly broke in two

My patience wearing thin
Cleaning up one handed
too much lost sleep
and fuzzies in my head

Carrying far too much
And trying to quell Olea’s fit
Answering unending questions
And teaching other kids not to hit

I didn’t want to be grumpy
And tried real hard not to cry
But Olea spazzed out
And hit me in the eye

And I thought of you
Your sympathy
When last we visited
Overwhelmed me

You may not be the perfect mother
I’m certainly not
But from you
I learned a lot

Contriving new discipline
And things to play
As a mom, I think of you
More than just the days in May

I got a carnation
It was pink
So of you, Mom
It made me think

Because you’ve been there
And you know
About every hard day
And I love you so