Tag Archives: life

For Love of Poetry

Poetry.

Had an interesting discussion on Twitter about what poetry is, especially with the influence of social media and the spectrum of different divisions, like Spoken Word, Slam, Traditional, and all the other ways people are writing or performing poetry.

I wish I could tell you how many poems I have written… but I can’t. I have notebooks, scraps of paper, digital documents, tweets, and so many other places where I’ve written down words. Most of those words were worked into poetry.

I wrote on the edges of my notebooks during class when I was in school. Now, I speak into my phone on my walks to capture lines or ideas. I share poems on Twitter Spaces, I do poetry lessons for Move Me Poetry, and have been competing in Slams.

I do not earn any money from my poetry. Yes, every once in a while I sell a book, but by no means do I make any money. So, why do I write poetry? Why do I teach poetry when my students roll their eyes when I introduce it?

Because poetry is the closest art form to our human spirit. Yes, the human spirit is found in all the art forms… painting, drawing, music… but poetry, poetry beats with our hearts.

Even if it is the only poem they ever write, my students find the words to express themselves, and so many find courage to stand and speak their hearts to the class. I love walking the bridge back in time with Wordsworth, or walk the streets of Harlem with Langston Hughes. 

I write poetry so that I can breathe. I write poetry so that I can understand myself in this world. I write poetry to build a connection to anyone who reads my words.

I write poetry… to be me.

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I am Sad

Grief is an interesting monster. One that feels comfortable in the dark or the sunlight. It can rise up to stand as tall as a giant but be light on its feet. Moving so fast you can’t hold on to it, yet still in grief’s shadow. Or the monster can shrink down to sit in your hand, but be so heavy that you have to use both hands to hold it. Its weight making your knees bend, taking all your energy just to stay upright.

I am sad.

I am sad because of the passing of my mom. And I know part of the lingering feeling is that we will have the memorial for her in September, when all the family can be there. A milestone in the grieving process has not happened.

But there have been other milestones that have fed the monster. She passed away just a few days from her birthday and a few weeks before my parents’ 52 anniversary. Life moments that should have been celebrations. 

I am sad. 

I am sad because death is the end of the story. Even while my mom was in the hospital, there was hope, there was the idea of tomorrow. So many things that were possible with tomorrow. There isn’t now. There is no tomorrow. There is no today. I used to send pictures to “Mom and Dad” on my phone. Now, I send them to just “Dad”. 

That’s why I am sad.

The monster attacks without warning. I never know the monster’s size or its intent. I only know that I am sad.

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So this is a day…

Monday.

Spent the morning getting my daughters to morning weights. Took a walk. Discovered a store was closed on Mondays. Talked with a colleague and got her the rest of the copies of a book from my room. Got a coffee from The Blue Moon. Took a nap. Made my video lesson for Move Me Poetry. Made dinner and washed dishes.

I spent a little time in Spaces on Twitter (now X I guess) and am trying to write a blog post.

Those are some of the things I did.

I felt tired this morning. I am feeling a sense of sadness I can’t shake. I thought about the upcoming school year. I danced with moments of doubt. Considered just getting into the car and driving away.

Those were some of the things I felt today.

How many people spent their day doing more things than me? How many people had more intense feelings than me today? 

There are almost 2 million people in the state of Nebraska. Farmers, shop owners, doctors, school teachers, teenagers… all of us making it through a Monday with our own emotions, doing our own things.

Crazy to think about how a day is filled with so many lives, so many stories that will never be known by more than a few people. How many tears fell today… from crying or laughing.

Expand the idea to our country, to the world.

At the moment you are reading this, how many things are being done, how many emotions are being felt? 

What a fantastic thing this is… a day.

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Sunshine and Storms

While we were in Wyoming we got rained on while the sun was shining.

The family was leaving the hotel. We stepped out onto the sidewalk under bright sunshine, then we were hit with big drops of rain. Enough to get us wet, but not soaked. My three daughters, who have never been to Wyoming, darted to the car laughing.

They had never seen a sunshower before; where wind carries rain from miles away. For a moment we were caught in a storm while the sun was shining.

I laughed as my girls clamored about what had just happened. But as I started the car, hitting the wipers, I thought the moment was a perfect metaphor for the day, for life in general. At any moment rain can appear, a storm, even if the sky stays clear and sunny.

There is a moment in the book Tuesdays With Morrie that captures this idea. Morrie is leaving the hospital after being diagnosed with ALS and the sun is shining. He shares how he was angry at the day for being so beautiful while he was facing devastating news. How could the world be so wonderful while he was dying?

I understand Morrie better after these last six months with my mom’s battle with cancer and her death. As my wife and I made quick trips to see her, I would feel the tension between the beautiful skies and the fear and worry of my mom’s health. On one trip my wife and I went downtown to get a coffee. It was a beautiful day. The baristas were wonderful. The coffee good. My wife and I sat enjoying a mint brownie. But we talked about what the future could be like without my mom in it, what would dad do, and when we should bring the kids to say goodbye.

Sunshine and storms. Smiles and tears. Wonder and fear. A life. 

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This I Believe

This post will be a little poetic…

This I believe:

that saying thank you is a powerful way to show you care.

that dance parties are the best family bonding activity.

that taking walks is a form of prayer.

This I believe:

that friendships will save your life.

that showing love is a sign of strength.

that living your best life means you are growing.

This I believe:

that this world is beautiful, but we make it ugly.

that learning is how we become who we are.

that eating ice cream in the winter is the best.

This I believe:

that poetry is a type of magic.

that an open heart means having open eyes.

that we don’t trust the rain enough.

This I believe:

that heartbreak is inspiration.

that a smile is a way to speak the truth.

that living deeply is the only way to do it.

This I believe…

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Keys

Today we were finishing up cleaning the in-laws’ house. In the garage hung about 50 different keys. They hung on different keychains. Only a few were labeled. It was my job to test all the keys on all the doors and padlocks.

Some keys I didn’t have to try because they were old car keys. The head of the key would have the brand stamped on it, so I knew I didn’t need to test them. But other keys were so worn that it was hard to know what kind of key it was.

Out of all those keys I found 6 that worked in a door or a padlock.

Some keys fit in every door, but would not unlock any of them. Other keys didn’t fit any door or lock. I sat there looking at the pile of keys that no longer worked and wondered about which door, which car, what part of life did these keys fit into. Why were the keys still hanging on nails in the garage?

What keys do we need in this life and what keys do we hang on to even though they are no longer needed?

We all have keys that unlock memories, unlocks our joy, and there are doors we try to hide the keys for so that no one can open that door. And then we have doors we keep trying to pry open because we lost or just don’t have the key. We shake the doorknob, slam our shoulder into the door. But it doesn’t budge… I hate it when a goal is sitting on the other side of that door.

I had to test keys today for my in-laws, but recognize that I need to work on my own keys in my life.

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I don’t know what I’m writing

Seriously, this may be the most organic blog post ever. As I write these words, I do not know where my thoughts will take this blog. You have been warned.

I am sitting in my chair, rolling with my “Deep Thought” playlist and Pearl Jam’s song, “Just Breathe” is playing. I am trying some new coffee, which isn’t too bad. And I am lost.

Ohhh, “Bad Man’s Song” by Tears for Fears just started playing. Love this song! You should check it out.

OK, back to being lost. Besides on what to write for this blog post, I am feeling adrift at the moment. Part of that feeling stems from visiting my dad back home. The energy in the house was missing my mom’s gentleness. Her soft laugh. There was an undertow in the house as if life was trying to find a way to fill the emptiness in the house, but it didn’t know what to fill it with.

Life continues going no matter what happens to us as people. My mom died just a few days before her 69th birthday. Earlier this month was my parents 52nd anniversary. My dad has major holidays coming up. But even harder milestones will be the first University of Wyoming football game, then the start of basketball season. Let alone, drinking coffee alone each morning.

This life is an amazing gift but comes with responsibilities that challenge our very being. The first is that we are responsible for the quality of our happiness.  Even when others try to destroy us, tear us down. Even when the randomness of life breaks us. We are still responsible for every breath we take. It is a heavy load to carry, especially if we run from it.  Which I fear too many people do in so many different ways.

But to move through hardships, you have to move into them. And that means feeling the pain, screaming at God, crying when a song moves you to. I had never hugged my dad as he cried before until this visit. The moment needed to be felt, instead of running away from it.

We then drank coffee together in the kitchen. Yes, there was still an emptiness in the room, but we helped life fill it with love and the pictures he showed me of last fall when they went hiking. There was my mom smiling on a bridge in her University of Wyoming gear.

I’ll end with a song that played while I was writing… (Seriously it did!)

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A Post for the Old Man and his Garden

The first poem in my book, April 2020, is “To the Old Man Gardening During the Pandemic”. The poem chronicles my encounter with an older gentleman as he was gardening. I was on a walk, which I did a lot during the lockdown. This man’s house has a big backyard with a variety of flora. I had seen him out in his garden over the years. Of course, the poem (and book) are centered on life during the pandemic.

Flash forward to now. Even with the craziness of the summer, I have been walking on a regular basis. I had noticed that I had not seen the gentleman out in his garden, even though it still looked good. Yesterday I found out why.

He’s gone.

I do not know what happened to him. For once I was too shy to ask the person out front of the house closing up a moving trailer. The backyard had one of those little kid cars (the blue one with a red hood), a hot tube, and other toys that meant that a young family had moved into the house.

He was gone.

I stood at the yield sign at the T-junction where most of his flowers are trying not to cry. This summer has been filled with drastic moments that changed my life. Some joyful and exciting (my oldest son starting his career). Others have cracked my spirit. And standing next to the flowers this gentleman spent so much time caring for pushed my heart to the edge. 

I wondered what the new family would do with the backyard. I envied the children, they will love the space (the house sits on two lots). But what will they do with the trellis? Will they keep the roses? His home and garden was becoming a home for a new family.

The old man gardening during the pandemic is gone. But I remember him. And his garden.

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Let’s Not Talk about the Weather

Yesterday’s post shared an anecdote that showed how important small talk is, how talking about the weather can build a connection… I also shared how I am not good at small talk because I would rather talk about deeper aspects of life… I’m sharing a song below as part of this introduction, “Here I Go Again” by Casting Crowns

This song was written by Mark Hall after he loss a friend to suicide. Mark knew he was struggling, yet, they never really talked about it. Mark shared the story at a concert almost 20 years ago. (It was the first concert I took my oldest son to; he is the fan of Casting Crowns.)

“Here I Go Again” shares the real struggle we have in talking about deep and important issues in our lives. Like in the song, “But that old familiar fear is tearing at my words / What am I so afraid of?” I wonder keeps us from really diving into issues that really make a difference in our lives. Why don’t we tell people we love them more? Like everyday! Why don’t we discuss the hardships we face chasing our dreams? What are we hiding from? What are we afraid of?

There is no clear and easy answer to this because each person has their own fears, their own histories. And we do have deep conversations with friends, but not very often. We do tell people we love them, just not enough. I understand the role trust plays in conversations, and I don’t trust many people at all, but I’m not afraid to talk about deep or interesting things.

I don’t know how to conquer your fear, or anyone’s. But I believe we need to move beyond the weather in our conversations. Build strong bonds instead of quick social connections. Tell people we love them more, hug them more. Our lives are complex and deep experiences, we should share that. You never know who you’ll connect with or what you will learn.

I’m laughing as I write this because I had a memory from decades ago when I asked my brother-in-law, who is a farmer, if he ever thought about where his crops go in this world, who might eat his corn.

He looked at me and said, “Cows eat my corn, this is a feed crop. Not a human crop.” 

You don’t learn if you don’t ask!

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Horses

My youngest daughter said I should write about horses.

So, this post will be about horses.

I’m scared of horses.

For decades, the family would meet in South Dakota for Thanksgiving. My aunt and uncle had horses. The tradition didn’t change when I had my own family, but we did have to get hotel rooms as my family grew.  We have so many pictures of my children riding the horses. Sometimes bundled up in coats with the sun shining. But not a single picture of me on a horse.

When I was a senior in high school I tried riding one of the horses. My uncle guided the horse around the front fence line, which had recently been repaired. The horse spotted some rope left on the ground, wrapped up and looking like a snake. The horse reacted by rearing up. I was spooked, too, and fell off.

I know, not the coolest story, not even that big of a serious reaction. But for someone who spent much of his life in big cities; I was shook. And I have never been on a horse since.

Their presence is strong. I don’t have the confidence to match their energy. My kids just laugh and wave as they enjoy riding horses when they can. I just smile and wave back.

And now some words from my guest blogger, my youngest daughter (9 years old):

One time we went to Wisconsin and this one place you could ride horses in a carriage when my dad said that we were gonna go one day I was blasted with energy and joy so we went I ran to the line and when they were getting ready we pet the horses I ran to every horse petting them over and over again I also got to flick a switch on the ride, we rode in between the canyons and when we got back we went into the shop and that’s when I met my best friend canyon, shes a horse stuffed animal, horses are truly beautiful and kind.

Hope you enjoyed our post about horses.

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