Ponds and dogs seem to be the most popular of the assignment topics.
The Pond
The frogs croak
quietly in the night
waiting for food
to come by.
The water shimmers
in the moonlight
like a lighthouse
on the ocean.
When you think of
the pond,
think of the beautiful
creatures that live
in it.
Author: Ali Matthews
Another student submitted a pond poem today:
The Pond
cold, still water
moss covering the surface
catfish swimming around the banks
frogs croaking like an old car horn
This is my pond.
Author: Harris Albracht
The following poem makes me laugh every time I read it:
Roger the Rabbit was an interesting rabbit
who had a eating habit
orange sour skittles were his favorite
He always savored it
He was white with black spots
And he slept lots
Rodger lived in a tree hosue
He was quiet as a mouse
Rodger is gone now
Thanks to the owl
He will be missed
But I am not very pissed
R.I.P. Rodger the Rabbit
Author: Jess Merrell
After nearly none last year, it hit suddenly and dramatically last night: cold, intense, beautiful.
A lovely autumn day with a few flowers still in full bloom. Snow starts at ten tonight they predict.
In spite of this loveliness, I keep thinking about a few sad facts I learned this past week.
On June 2, 1924, Congress granted citizenship to Native Americans born in the US and finally, the original inhabitants of the USA could actually vote. Well, some of them. Certain states still barred them from voting until 1957.
More tigers live in captivity in the United States than in the wild worldwide. 95% of wild tigers gone in just one century.
More people have died from opioid addiction in the US in the last few years than from Viet Nam, Afghanistan, and Iraq wars combined.
Golden glow lays over the land
Praying mantis walks up the window
Storm clouds gently glide through azure
months of nothing
six inches below normal
suddenly late afternoon
downpours, flooding
three waterfalls off canyon cliff
double rainbow
birds sing evensongs
and now this
It became very clear to Gaston and me that we would not really get a true perspective of the falls unless we took the helicopter ride our taxi driver/tour guide recommend. To do this we once again had to cross to Brazil. The company that operates the helicopter rides is Argentinian. However, Argentina decided no helicopters on their side because they disturb animals, the environment. The ride is short and relatively expensive. Gaston protested it cost too much. I am conservative about money but thought about it and decided, “I may never be here again. Gaston’s last trip here occurred when he was six, nearly two decades ago. We are going to do this.” This was Gaston’s first helicopter ride.
Even from a helicopter it is nearly impossible to see all the falls at once.
The left side is Brazil, the right Argentina. The falls in Argentina continue to the right beyond this photo. The immensity of this natural wonder never ceases to amaze.
We landed at the jungle airport near the down of Iguazu, found a taxi (the taxi to our hotel was only 5 dollars more than the bus), and continued our adventure. Gaston and I felt lucky; the lady taxi driver gave us excellent service and advice for our three day sojourn at Iguazu. She suggested we head to the Brazilian side of the falls first because the trails are fewer and it was later in the day. All you have to do is provide your passport, roll down your window so they can look at your face, and proceed. At the Brazilian park headquarters everyone has to wait for a bus, which can drop visitors off at various points along hiking trails. The above was one of my first views of the falls.
It became clear almost immediately that it would be impossible to see all the falls from any single place; they are immense to the point of unbelievable, overwhelming. You hear the roar long before you see the cause. At this vantage point, I am standing on Brazilian soil looking across to the Argentinian side. The center of river which causes the falls provides the boundary between Brazil and Argentina.
To reach this vantage point, the trail winds down a rather steep incline. Everything is wet from the mist which is so extensive, it is impossible to be anywhere near and not become somewhat wet. A trail proceeds from here below the falls out over a part of the river where it is like being in your bathroom shower. Gaston took many photos here. The roar of the falls is so loud it is impossible to carry on a conversation.
Coatimundis are everywhere. On the Brazil side in particular huge signs are posted with a person displaying bleeding, serious injuries inflicted by these seemingly harmless creatures. The instructions tell visitors not to feed them, try to pet them, anything. The result may not be good if you do.
The roar, the immensity, overtakes ones emotions. The power of water a millionfold, displayed in all its grandeur overwhelms.
In Brazil looking across to Argentina.
Evidence of Flossing, WHAT WE LEAVE BEHIND provides an unexpected metaphor for individual life, culture, and so much more. Nearly all the poems are accompanied with a photograph, often of trash in which lays a dental flosser (yes, one of those instruments with which you floss your teeth) with date and location. Flossing is supposed to prevent anything from being left behind. Hence, the title brings up an unusual play on words.
The first section Damage contains more than 20 poems which are a lament about much of modern life–mass shootings, the demise of wildlife, unpleasant changes. One poem asks the question: “Would God floss?” In the second section, Contact, the poems focus on the natural world, walks in the city, the woods, beaches. The third section, Connection, emphasizes the interconnectedness of everything, especially the relationships between humans and animals and nature. There are poems about frogs, storms, birds. One called Evidence of Fairies makes the reader feel the magic of old growth forests with moss and ancient trees. In the footnote to another poem she discusses the fact that wolf spiders actually create songs to lure lovers. Then, toward the end, the Alice poems appear, Alice as in “Alice in Wonderland”. In my favorite poem Payne relates her encounter with a stranger picking oyster mushrooms near a path in the woods.
After reading the poems and comments in this book, I will never view flossing the same way again. Will I find dental flossers now, something I never even previously thought about? I use those long strings of floss not flossers. Apparently the poems and flosser photos affected enough people that some sent Payne photos of flossers they saw here and there on the ground, some of which she has included in the book.
Even if I find no flossers, now I will certainly give a lot more thought to what I and others leave behind.
About the author: Jennifer Payne is the owner of Words by Jen, a graphic design and creative services company in Connecticut. She belongs to the Arts Council of Greater New Haven as well as several other arts and poetry organizations. Her work has been featured in various publications, including The Aurorean, Six Sentences, and the Story Circle Network. You can read some of her writing on her blog Random Acts of Writing.
behemoth bones
bleached white
African sun
grave yard for giants
some shot
others died a natural death
the living caress
bones with trunks
six thousand nerves
sensitive, searching
for answers
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