Student Poems-Two


Here is the next set:

 

The Beauty of Nature

 

Nature is everywhere

It teaches you how to share,

God created nature

With beauty you can always capture,

Without it there will be no peace

Everywhere will soon cease,

Nature includes some of the biggest animals

Like the awesome looking camel,

Nature has everything from Willow Trees

All the way down to bumblebees,

Nature is everywhere.

 

Jaci Allen

 

life vs. nature

 

spring, summer

winter, fall

these are the seasons of the year

nature’s crazy

nature’s fun

nature has something for everyone

it can be scary

not so sweet

life’s like nature scary and fun

when times are tough rivers run

we may cry laugh and smile

life’s emotions drive me wild

 

Jordin Arnaud

UT_Cougar05

 

 

The World in One Room


 

Four jaguar heads stare at me,

Mexican, Costa Rican.

A third guards the mantel,

partially hidden in tropical plants,

attack ready, tail raised, jaws open,

teeth bared.

 

My feet rest on a coffee table

carved in Kashmir.  I look at the photo

of the young man whose family made it.

He took me home to meet his mom,

to the floating market.

Once peace reigned there.

Now I wonder if he is safe, alive.

 

The Hoop Dancer raises his arms,

the Acoma pot exudes ancient

black on white beauty, painted

by the tips of yucca stems.

The Thai Spirit House begs

to appease evil spirits.

I should put food and flowers there;

I never do.

 

Corn plant of life–for Navaho, Hopi,

me, painted, growing up my wall,

blue and red birds flitting through

the stalks, singing ancient songs.

Corn Maiden rug hanging on the wall;

an Isleta Pueblo girl won a contest

with its design.  Four Corn Maiden

Kachinas watch the room.

Corn everywhere–Sacred Corn.

 

Three Ethiopian crosses, St. George

and the Dragon, Frida Kahlo doll,

Argentinian Madonna, Tohono O’odham

baskets, a painted cow skull, Nigerian carved

wooden elephants, including a Chieftains chair,

the stained glass transom window from the house

where my dad lived from birth to ten.

 

In a room filled with windows, there

is little room for paintings, yet–

purple bison glide across the prairie,

an Iraqi woman flies through an azure

sky filled with dark blue birds,

a 15th century mystic, Kabir, tells

a tale in poetry, Navaho spirits,

pumas walking toward me–

my obsession.

 

Rugs scattered–Kerman,

an unknown Persian city, Afghani,

Egyptian, Indian, Zapotec, scraps of old

Turkish rugs sewn together.

 

In one cabinet, Grandmother’s china,

Mom’s Czech crystal–a wedding present

decades ago, Grandson’s painted art,

the silverware Dad gave Mom on their

first wedding anniversary,  Mom’s

everyday dishes–flowers blooming.

I use them every day.

 

These objects–a testament to who I am:

World wanderer, seeker, citizen.

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What’s in a Name?


Juliana!

Internet tells me I am Jove’s child.

I’m a goddess??!!

Where I grew up, no one had

my name.

The Queen of Holland had my name.

I wondered why?  A Spanish name.

Research explained:

Holland once ruled Spain.

It did not go well.

 

Juliana!

Internet tells me I am

Aspirational

Benevolent

Honest

Inventive

Original

Is this true?

Maybe. Probably.

Does a name create who

one becomes?

If I had a different name

would I be someone else?

 

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Note:  This poem came out of an assignment in a class I am taking with the Story Circle Network, an organization that promotes women writing and telling their stories.   The instructor, Yesim Cimcoz, lives in Turkey.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Appreciation


A few weeks ago it was Teacher Appreciation Week.  Several students brought me things, home made cookies, something orange–my favorite color, a gift certificate.  However, two notes written by the students themselves caught my eye.  One especially made me smile a lot.  Here they are:

“Thank you for improving my language skills and being such an amazing teacher.”

 

“Ms. Lightle

“Thank you for making all of us laugh every single day!  Your craziness and how you stay true to you, even when we say stupid things, and make you angry.  We have not known you for very long, but we hope we can keep you here at LEAST until we graduate!”

Love, ”

I do not think I am one speck funny.  However, for years now, students keep telling me I am super funny.  I have no idea what I do to make them think this, but guess it does not matter.

 

It is a beautiful spring day, exceptionally green for the Panhandle of Texas.  Papers are graded. Now,  I am going to read, cook cod with lemon and fennel, feed horses, and watch the moon rise.

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Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

My Hair–a Student Poem


Recently, my students read a poem where the eggs in a carton expressed terror at being removed by human hands and a Pablo Neruda poem about his socks–hand made, blue wool with a golden thread running through them.  Their assignment was to also write a 20 line poem about something ordinary which they love or appreciate. One student wrote about my hair.

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