“Freedom is nothing but the distance between the hunter and its prey.”
Ocean Vuong

“Freedom is nothing but the distance between the hunter and its prey.”
Ocean Vuong

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
The instructions: write a poem about a pet or wild animal you love. Most of the students wrote about their dogs. Six more students requested I publish their dog poems. Here are three:
Kimba
my name is Kimba
I am really fun
but be very careful I like cinnamon buns
I run and I play
I sleep everyday
I ride in the car
but not very far
I really hate cats
They remind me of rats
I need to lose weight
So I can relate
back to when I was tiny
I thought I was so mighty
Author: Kayla Stephens
Sadie Mae
Sadie Mae is the best
Whatever she does, she makes a mess
She loves to play with all
especially her favorite ball
Sophie is her best friend
but their energy never ends
In the open pastures she runs wild
which gives her a big smile
In the middle of the bed she sprawls
sometimes you will see her crawl
Author: Jake Kenedy
Baps
My name is Baps. Milana
loves me I sleep on her
head so she can’t see
When Milana gets up I
have to get off When I
roll over I fall off
Milano needs me so does
Finley But beware of the
bird because he is my enemy
Be very careful we don’t get along
don’t put us together or he will
be gone.
Author: Milana Evers
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
This past week in my sophomore English class, the students read poems by Amy Lowell and William Carlos Williams. I gave them the assignment to write about either a pond or a wheelbarrow. At first, they thought I had lost my mind. However, several decided they would like their poems published on this blog. The following are three poems the students asked me to publish:
The Pond
The frogs croak
quietly in the night
waiting for food
to come by.
The water shimmers
in the moonlight
like a lighthouse
to the ocean.
When you think of
the pond,
think of the beautiful
creatures that live
in it.
Author: Ali Matthews
Pond
Sittin in a pond,
watching the frogs jump by,
the fish sing
bloop! bloop!! bloop!!
Author: Skylee Isham
The Wheelbarrow
Behind my fence
sits a green wheel barrow.
It has been used many times,
but still looks brand new.
The wheelbarrow has sat through
all sorts of weather, and it
still works like a charm.
Author: Taylor Shugart
I heard this poem by Max Coots recited on Sunday and saved it to share today.
Let us give thanks:
For generous friends…with hearts…and smiles as bright as their blossoms;
For feisty friends as tart as apples;
For continuous friends, who, like scallions and cucumbers, keep reminding us we’ve had them;
For crotchety friends, as sour as rhubarb and as indestructible;
For handsome friends, who are as gorgeous as eggplants and as elegant as a row of corn, and the others, plain as potatoes and as good for you;
For funny friends, who are a silly as Brussel spouts and as amusing as Jerusalem artichokes, and serious friends, as complex as cauliflowers and as intricate as onions;
For friends as unpretentious as cabbages, as subtle as summer squash, as persistent as parsley, as delightful as dill, as endless as zucchini, and who, like parsnips, can be counted on to see you throughout the winter;
For old friends, who wind around us like tendrils and hold us, despite our blights, wilts, and witherings;
And, finally, for those friends now gone, like gardens past that have been harvested, and who fed us in their times that we might have life hereafter.
For all these we give thanks.

dramatic weather changes
one day cold, next one almost hot
late blooms, gayfeather, groundswell,
native grasses blowing in the wind
owls hooting, robins on the patio
praying mantis, walking sticks
working on their last hunts,
other insects singing night songs



Golden glow lays over the land
Praying mantis walks up the window
Storm clouds gently glide through azure



Tan grass stretches miles and miles as far as eyes can see.
The water in the indigo bird bath evaporates in one day.
Playa lakes, full last summer, surrounded then in emerald grass, lay waterless.
Thirty-five miles an hour winds create fog-like clouds of dust across the horizon.
Grit, wind hurled, buffets cars and trucks driving down the long, straight highways.
Dust-fed sunrises and sunsets clad skies in orange, hot pink, vermillion, violet, mauve.
Day 127 with no measurable precipitation.

Note: I wrote this ten days ago. That evening it rained .01 inches. None since then. We are approaching four months with just that .01 inches, nothing more. Every time it warms and the winds come, the weather forecast mentions high fire danger. All counties and state parks near here have burn bans. March is a windy month.
Woman, wondrous, wild
daughter of the moon,
mysterious, magnificent
fierce secret keeper
guardian of the universal key.

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