Quirky Poems with Kim Johnson
Welcome to Day 11 of Verselove. We are so happy you are here, however you choose to be present. If you know what to do, carry on; if you are not sure, begin by reading the inspiration and mentor poem, then scroll to the comment section to post your poem. Please respond to at least three other poets in celebration of words, phrases, ideas, and craft that speak to you. Click here for more information on the Verselove.
Kim Johnson, Ed.D., lives in Williamson, Georgia, where she serves as District Literacy Specialist for Pike County Schools. She enjoys writing, reading, traveling, and spending time with her husband and three rescue schnoodles – Boo Radley (TKAM), Fitz (F. Scott Fitzgerald), and Ollie (Mary Oliver). You can follow her blog, Common Threads: patchwork prose and verse, at www.kimhaynesjohnson.com.
Inspiration
In her book Poemcrazy: freeing your life with words by Susan Goldsmith Woodridge, I felt a deep sense of connection when I read about how Wooldridge’s younger brother had made fun of their dad’s tacky blue socks – nylon, with two black stripes around the top and, upon his return to college, found his dad’s ugly socks hiding in his suitcase. The next time he returned home, he hid them in the house until they were found by his parents and returned during the next family gathering, once making an appearance next to a rubber chicken in his honeymoon getaway car. Twenty-five years later, they are still exchanging these socks. It brought back memories of my parents, who, up until my mother’s death, took turns hiding a Where’s Waldo figurine around the house for the other to find.
Process
We all do quirky, bold things that break the ice and bring us closer together. Think of a time that you’ve done something quirky – – with friends, with family, with students or even complete strangers. Let’s share our quirky exchanges today and whatever emotions they bring – in whatever form of poetry we choose.
Silke with Squeaky in Berlin, Germany, May 2019
Kim’s Poem
Quirky Quackers
in Berlin, Germany
with tour guide
Silke /Zilkuh/
who said we could
call her Silky
“like my hair”
she joked
and smiled
and laughed
but group rules
were no joke
she had a little duck
named Squeaky
she’d squeeze
all through the crowded
streets so we didn’t
waddle off
people stopped and stared
at this grown woman
little duck
held high
squeaking
leading a team
wondering whether they, too,
might better get in line
we were her ducks
in a row
until it was time for
pair-square-quads
we grabbed a partner
and then another pair
and quacked by fours
to be sure all her ducks
were safe
swearing we would never
use these quirky tricks with our
own groups of touring students
then secretly rushing off to buy
our own squeaky ducks
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming.
Also, in the spirit of reciprocity, please respond to at least three other poets today.
Greetings at the Door
Greetings every morning
“Welcome to our space”
Fist bumps and elbow bumps
Now others are embraced
Monday’s is a HUG.
“I’m glad that you are here.”
Tuesday’s is a FIST BUMP.
A greeting we hold dear.
Wednesday’s is the BOOTY BUMP.
Bump hips and “I love you”.
At first this one was awkward,
But now it’s looked forward to.
Thursday’s is a bit complex.
Two slaps, 2 pounds, one fist bump…phew!
Friday’s is another HUG.
On the weekend, I’ll miss you.
Love these quirky poems and what an awesome prompt for us to think back on those strange memories.
This poem is inspired by true events ? but is going to be part of my novel in verse I’m working on and using these prompts to help me. So thank you for the inspiration!
Baking a cake for mom’s birthday
And I open the cabinet
Reach for the vanilla
And then it’s like you’re there.
I remember one sleepover
Where we couldn’t go to sleep
So we snuck down the stairs
Grabbed at random
Pickles, cinnamon, vanilla extract, melting chocolate.
Bananas, milk, popcorn, tabasco.
And began brewing
What concoction would make us gag?
Who would throw up first?
What is the weirdest, yet most delicious?
Chocolate covered pickles?
Vanilla-cinnamon bananas?
Tabasco popcorn?
We made such a mess
Giggled so loudly,
Made fake barfing sounds that echoed
It was a wonder we didn’t wake the neighborhood.
When I open the cabinet
And see the vanilla
I see you.
Alexis, this is such a beautiful memory to have. My friends and I used to do this when we’d play Spoons and I can vividly remember a peanutbutter and mustard combination that left me sick to my stomach. Thank you for the laugh!
Thanks for sharing, Kasey! Wow, your imagination is truly a gift. This poem is awesome.
Thanks for sharing and the prompt, Kim!
Sister in the other room
looking for something to eat
reminded of the canned soup
She goes to find the can opener
finds it where it should be
however
she struggles with it
A can opener, I say
is now a can’t opener.
Emma—ha!! This is such a great poem. I could see using this as a mentor text with students for a fun prompt on word play. Thanks for the laugh!
Thank you for sharing Kim, your prompt made me remember my elementary school trips… Oh how disobedient some kids would be.
Max and Ruby
It was Valentine’s Day
The car pulled up
There was a box but something was moving inside
I peeped inside
Max jumped out
He was busy always running and jumping
I wanted to old max but was scared he would scratch me
Humm…I wanted a pet but was scared to interact with Max
Then Ruby came
Ruby was not the regular dog
She was more like a baby
Always seeking affection and determine to go on adventures.
Max and Ruby
Oh my goodness! Thanks for sharing, Dee! I loved the show, Max & Ruby, as a kid. This one definitely made me chuckle.
Such an interesting woman and such a cool poem. I’ve discovered my new favorite word, “cantadora”. Thank you!
Such a fun prompt, Kim. Thank you. I love the lines “this grown woman little duck held high squeaking leading a team” and “we were her ducks in a row”. I could picture it so clearly. Here goes mine:
Marching to Doom with A Pep in My Step
Once upon a time
Assignments were monsters
And exams were ghouls
We stayed up all night
Learning incantations
To battle those nasties
Upon the morn.
And we discovered
To our great joy
That while passing each other
In the halls of war
Going from one battle to the next
We could stop for half a moment
And have ourselves
A 30-second dance party
And with spirits lifted
March to our doom yet again.
With laughter in our eyes.
This just brought back such a rush of memories for me, Saba. Those college days of staying up late, cramming, jamming the typewriter keys, and just the sheer exhaustion of academics. As we are coming to the end of the semester here, I can feel the crunch on my students, but I keep reminding them they can celebrate when they are done. I imagine some of them taking those same “30-second dance parties” before heading into their next exams. Love this. Was the italics intentional, because I feel it lends itself to the sense of memory in this poem. I don’t use italics much myself, but I can see how it can have an effect on the reader. Thanks for that!
Denise, I miss my uni days so much – especially at this time when I’m seeing all the seniors excited to start that adventure. I’ve actually been using italics for all my poems posted here, but I see what you mean by them adding to the sense of memory. I love formatting – I feel it brings any piece to life if done properly. I’m glad you liked it!
Hi Saba, thanks for sharing. Your poem resonates with me because at this moment I am presently trying to compete two major assignments and trying to prepare myself for qualifying exams in July…
Hey, Dee. Good luck tackling those “nasties”! Don’t forget to celebrate the small wins. 🙂
Now I’ll be thinking about my students as knights, warriors, and wizards! I love the concept of pulling an all-nighter as preparing incantations!
30-second dance parties really made such a big difference in college. They always brought my spirits back up—especially after a hard test. The feeling of accomplishment against the battle of final exams was always something to look forward to. This was wonderful!
Kim,
Thank you for your fun inspiration. I love the sock story! The image of your tour guide’s duck and the duck-like behavior of the tourists is very fun. I could hear the squeaks.
Dates
By Shaun
Young boys are curious.
Young girls are curious too,
Of course.
This is about a curious young boy
Who was interested in dates.
The third-grade teacher,
Sister Ernestine,
Wrote a message on the board.
“If you want a date, see me after class.”
A curious young boy pondered every word.
What does she mean?
Could it be true?
Does she have some niece visiting from the Vatican?
Does she have a side-gig of some sort,
Setting up available young boys and girls for rendezvous
At the movie theater or roller rink?
By the end of class,
He had summoned the courage.
As he approached the desk, a small group began to form.
Nervous giggles and sideways glances.
Then Sister Ernestine opened her desk,
And held up a small, golden tin.
“Please, take one of my dates. They’re delicious!”
This is so funny and so sweet!
Hi Shaun,
Thanks for sharing. Your poem even though it was funny it highlights how words can have different meaning. Its important that our students learn that words can look alike, sound alike but have different meaning depending on the context it is being used.
Shaun, well told! I wonder if Sister Ernestine made a mental note of all the brave souls who showed their hand that day or if she thought she had a lot of dried fruit enthusiasts in the room! I especially like your questions—they so sweetly capture where our minds go in those early years.
Polvos
It’s five o’clock here
and everywhere
north and south of us.
The oil-cloth tabletops are sticky
with lime, salsa, and
watered down tequila.
Long ceramic platters tell the tales of
mole tacos, papas Monterrey,
avocado salad, enchiladas.
Bad Bunny y Ozuna
take turns blasting through
the outdoor speakers.
Nothing beats that
first Sunday of Spring Break energy.
The handsome man
two tables down
catches my eye and
gestures to cheers
our matching
Happy Baby puffs:
his toddler enjoys the
kale and spinach
while mine the
blueberry and purple carrot variety.
Hil-ar-ious! I love that subtle shift from the remnants of adult partying to responsible parenting. Yes, yes – I thought this was leading to a romantic encounter with the handsome dude who catches the speaker’s eye – ! What a great twist that was, to quirky, of course, and not at all disappointing, but a much more wholesome ending. You absolutely captured that bar scene. I had to look up Polvos – restaurant name? Is it a kind of famous place in your area?
Denise, Polvos I’d a Mexican restaurant in Austin, TX. It leans more to the wholesome side generally but they do make some stout margaritas!
Hi Laura, all the food an drinks you mentioned in your poem made me hungry and puts me in party mode. Great use of words and imagery.
I loved the idea of this prompt, but had a hard time identifying a topic. This poem talks about something that I certainly love, and that many people who know me best are surprised, nay, stunned to discover is a favorite form of play.
name five things —
that are quirky
elephants –
clams –
poetry –
my friends –
playing this game
once –
upon –
a –
time –
a –
porcupine –
got –
stuck –
under –
his –
pillow
I want a ticket to the moon –
yes, and would you like to buy a constellation with that? –
yes, and a guitar to serenade the flight crew, too
improv is
the most
freeing,
uplifting,
quirky
thing I do
There’s a lightness to this poem that is really endearing. Revealing improv as a source pulls back the curtain just a bit more on how these lines came into being.
This stanza:
I want a ticket to the moon –
yes, and would you like to buy a constellation with that? –
yes, and a guitar to serenade the flight crew, too
made me so happy!
This prompt stumped me all day. Nothing was coming to mind and then …. I asked my child if we as a family have any quirks. Traditions…yes. Quirks, not so much. Until I I asked, “Do I have any quirks?” Here is an Epistle Poem addressing my child’s response:
Dear Child,
When asked about my quirks,
you imitate my dancing.
That gets me laughing…
and thinking.
Yes, I break out in song and dance
sometimes, okay often, for no reason.
You bring that out in me…
no, hear me out.
You were a baby, just two months old.
Ms. Christy brought us Music Together.
I would sing and dance with you —
ALL THE TIME!
It made you giggle — back then.
Now — age 13 — you say it’s inconvenient,
embarrassing. But I see your smile,
it’s small, but still there.
You’re named after a musician,
You LOVE to sing and dance.
Musical theater is your thing.
I hope, one day, you embarrass your child.
Love,
Mom
The closing line says it all, “I hope, one day, you embarrass your child.” What parent hasn’t said that, or at least thought it? This poem is a beautiful image of the dance of the relationship between you and your daughter, Jennifer.
Thank you, Kim, for the prompt and your inspiration poem. I, too, would love to have a squeaky duck.
At first, I didn’t know what to write today because all my quirky jokes don’t quite work when translated into English. So, I remember how many times I found myself in a humorous situation because I was always small and used to look so much younger than my age.
Deceptions
At 18, I worked at children’s summer camp.
They joked that they have a child-teacher for six-year-olds.
When I turned 20, I walked into a classroom as a teacher
Full of 17-year-old students; we were all surprised:
They – by how young I was, and I – by how adult they were.
When the district evaluators first came to observe me,
They walked past my classroom a dozen times
Until I asked them if I could help with something.
They said they are waiting for the teacher,
But since they thought I were a student,
They kept waiting for the “real” teacher.
A few years later, a father came to visit his son in class.
“Show me your teacher,” he asked his son.
The boy pointed at me. “This one?” I heard the father doubting.
So, I composed myself and used my “teacher” voice
To address students. The father didn’t doubt any longer.
It’s hard to fool someone with my age in person today,
But this last one I can still pull out.
The phone rings, and I hear someone who’s spamming.
They ask me if I could call Mrs. P. to the phone,
I innocently respond: “Mom is not home yet.
Can I take a message for her?”
Arghh, Leilya – I can just sense the frustration with each of these experiences, but also a kind of “Yeah, I’ll show you” resolve, maybe sometimes even humor at others’ error. My friend’s daughter was a “premie” and to this day is so tiny for her age (now 17), I would love for her to read this. This is my favorite line, “They – by how young I was, and I – by how adult they were.” because I think this is another experience we can all relate to – a kind of surprise moment when we meet a class for the first time. It’s usually some cultural shocker that could really shake things up, but we have to find a way to move past it. A kind of threshold moment. Thank you for sharing this experience.
Thank you for such a kind and understanding comment, Denise!
Leilya this poem addresses one of my biggest concerns about teaching at the secondary level. It’s so hard to teach students who are only a few years younger than you. Even if you earn their respect, there’s no guarantee you’re going to get it from the other people around you. It’s tough for sure!
I love the prompt and I’ll have to come back to it when I can figure out what I am really trying to write here. For now, it reminded me of a time when I was told that I was a Dr Pepper in a Coach Cola world.
“I’ll have a Dr Pepper.”
“You ARE a Dr. Pepper!”
I am.
I’m okay with that. There’s enough Cokes and Pepsis and 7Ups to go around. I’ll see your un-cola and raise you a birch beer.
Save me the black licorice. I’m glad you think it’s gross.
Skunks always smelled like pepperoni pizza to me (curious now, aren’t you?) and I love pepperoni pizza so…
Inhale bravely. What’s not ventured is lost. What’s lost is there to be discovered. Why fit in? I’m outfitted to think a bit different.
As a kid, my favorite car was the El Camino,
the platypus of the automotive world—
half car, half pickup.
Unconventional. Unpretentious.
Uncontentious. Dr. Peppering it’s way down the block.
I love the analogies in this poem, Dave. “the platypus of the automotive world” is delightful. I also love black licorice, so you’ll be required to share!
Hello Dave! I love the “Save me the black licorice. I’m glad you think it’s gross” I, too, love black licorice. Thanks for sharing!
Kim, this quirky prompt made me think of my days as a substitute teacher awaiting new credentials in a new state and for my children to become all day students.
Feeling Like a Phony
Feeling like a phony
She donned a white lab coat
At least she’d gonna look the part
The bell has rung. It’s time to start.
For three years she was the sub on call
On their home mortgage payments, mind,
They would not fall behind.
That’s when she learned to teach the students
Not just unload her college knowledge.
She managed to maximize the time
When the content she did not know.
When Mrs. R arrived, they could not shirk
If she subbed, the students were gonna work
Together, in pairs, in triads, or maybe in small groups
She’d crack the whip. They’d jump the hoops.
If the question is on page fifty one
The answer’s on the pages before.
Please raise your hand when you find it.
Show us what you know. Wow! You got! Score!
Surely one of you can help.
Come forward and show us how.
Yes, you in the back. Here’s the marker.
His face began to glow as he took a stately bow.
She didn’t have to know it all
To be a sub on regular call.
Since the students still were learning
Mrs. R was the sub for whom they all were yearning.
Whether she wore a lab coat or not
Mrs. R was the teacher they usually got.
Anna, as always your rhyme scheme a d way with words puts a smile on my face! Thank goodness we don’t have to know it all as subs – if I get called to cover a class, I pray it’s not math. But if it is, I pray I’ve got a math whiz who can lead the way. You sound like a teacher’s dream sub- making them do the work!
This is such a fun way to view the subs job. I am sure the studnets were happy to see you every time, and you are right; these are the words of reason: “She didn’t have to know it all
To be a sub on regular call.”
Thanks, Kim, for this prompt! I was nervous not to have a specific format after a long day, but it turned out to be fun listing the quirks of my dog (your pic inspired me!). I loved your poem, Kim, with all the ducky puns!
Toby, the Aussie
“Cryptocurrency” sends him into a stupor.
Not the concept–the word itself.
One eye is blue, and
matches his blue merle hue.
the other is brown–like his
favorite “Loaf ‘N Sauce” meal (ew).
You’ll find him in the corner when
a vacuum enters the room.
Singing “Happy birthday” is all
the more lovely with his howls, and growls.
When I take off my reading glasses,
he bolts under a chair, bed, or desk.
He is much too dainty to walk on wet grass,
preferring to trot through the mud.
Toby (who also responds to Toblerone,
Mr. Guy, and Ding Dong), is the quirkiest
dog I have ever known!
Rachelle,
See now, I should have written about my dog–she’s quite the character, too. I love the “howls, and growls” to birthday songs and his hyper awareness that your taking off your glasses means something ominous. He sounds like a beautiful dog with his heterochromian eyes!
I don’t really know why he bolts under the chair when I take off my glasses! He started doing that as a puppy after I asked him to “touch” the glasses once. Now, it’s just a habit? He’s quirky!
Rachelle, that Merle gene is absolutely beautiful – I love those gorgeous eyes! When writers share about their dogs, it pulls me right in – I am a hopeless dog lover and would have a dozen if my husband hadn’t stopped me at three. Toby sounds like such a good boy –
singing happy birthday and hiding from
the vacuum are so endearing. And how funny it is that he has a word that sends him reeling. Aussies are beautiful, smart dogs and I admire all with the energy to keep up with them! You are a wonderful dog mom and a captivating writer!
My husband Scott used to send our daughter, Ashley, Bucky stories from all over the world. Bucky is the mascot for the University of Wisconsin – Madison, which is where our daughter is currently a freshman. When she took him to school with her and left her Squishy behind, a new line of stories began. We look quite silly staging these stories. Family members make fun of us, and then they want to get in the pictures and be part of the story. This is really rough, but it is all I have time for tonight.
Staying Connected
Squishy and Big Squish
have only one wish –
that is to stay in touch
with the one they love so much.
They love to disco and
love to play in the sand.
They have wacked a ball
with a club that was much too tall.
They are always up for a ride in a plane,
especially, if Cam takes the reign.
They love Tootsie Pops and cookies,
but will get mad if one eats something from the seas.
Occasionally, they fight about who misses her more.
It is really quite clear whom they adore.
For half a year, they have lived remotely
from their deeply loved owner, Ashley.
Such a fun tradition! The silly factor is what makes this so much fun.
Such fun! Yes, they make fun of you and then turn around and want to be part of the action (like we did with Silke and Squeaky). It’s a precious tradition you have going, and I hope it continues for generations to come. Thank you fir sharing with us today!
Kim, this is a great prompt, but I had to shift gears today. Thanks for understanding that this is the poem I had to write today. I will come back to it though. Thanks for understanding.
Rage boils inside me
Preventing me from thinking
Disappointment hurts
Mo, I understand. Rage, anger, and disappointment cloud our ability to think as clearly as we’d like. The great thing is, you came to this place of support and wrote a Haiku – and that is your win, our win today. I stand beside you, friend, taking deep breaths and praying that tomorrow will be a better day.
You are here, Mo, and that is all that matters. There are days that we have to write what needs to come out. I feel your rage in every word.
Yikes. Wishing you the relief that poetry and a community offers.
You guys are the best! Thanks for the kind words.
Mo,
Whatever is troubling you, know your are not alone. Sending peace and hugs.
Hope tomorrow is a much better day for you, Mo! I am, too, just reading and scrolling through pages now. Pain, anger, and despair are my companions today as well.
Boo! Tomorrow will be better.
Hey, Mo. Sending good thoughts your way!
Quirky is a word I love, but still, when I saw it as the #verselove prompt by Kim over at Ethical ELA I felt at a loss. What poem will I write that fits this category?
My expectations for the 6 and 7 year olds in my class are sky high–and when it comes to writing, they seldom let me down. I establish early on my love for egrets–they make a great writing topic that my students come to know and expect. While they didn’t know much about them early in the school year, they are quite familiar with them now.
When I picked my students up after lunch today they rushed me, so excited they simply couldn’t stay in line. Mrs. Douillard–there was a snowy egret! What?! I was looking around the playground. Really? A snowy egret on the playground? No–it was flying over the playground. I missed it–but they loved it and loved knowing that I would love it. So, inspired by my students and their excitement, my quirky poem is a Haiku capturing this moment.
snowy egret flies
yellow footed pistons tucked tight
playground showoff
(I know, it’s a stretch)
This is perfect, Kim. I love how you’ve helped your kids to be more observant. We have great blue herons here, which my kids insist don’t exist. Yet I see them every day on my way to work. I’m always telling them to look up! Those pistons are a fabulous image.
That’s no stretch. That’s a soar! Haiku is one of my favorite forms! That is quite a thing to see on the playground, wanting to teach those children to fly. It was quirky play, and you flew with it today!
Kim — I loved this image: she had a little duck/named Squeaky/she’d squeeze/all through the crowded/streets so we didn’t/waddle off. Thanks for the fun prompt.
Quirky is as Quirky Does
My quirky family
fond of bizarre maxims where my mother
lovingly threatened to “replace us with a bigger buttons”
What?
where Monday was “Monday all day unless it rained”
Okay …
where we “Never wear tennis shoes in months with the letter R”
If you say so …
Yet, to decipher the meaning behind these odd utterances
caught myself muttering one the other day
Realized my mother was chuckling in heaven
.
Oh, Tammi.
I love all these utterances and so appreciate the textual features here with quotes and italics and ellipses to show the way family maxims live in the world! Uttering and muttering — perfect.
Peace,
Sarah
Did your mom know my mom, Tammi? According to her, we’d cry with a loaf of bread under our arms. I used to think, “Ew, gross! Who wouldn’t?” She would also offer drinks or snacks to visitors. When they politely refused, she’d end it with, “Can I fry you an egg?” That’s when we knew the offers were over. Thanks for helping me take a trip down memory lane!
Those are her ways of staying with you – clear from Heaven her voice showers down in refrains that make remembering and pondering a way to keep her close!
Odd utterances–so love these. I find myself noticing the strange family sayings we have, that didn’t seem so strange back then. (So you can wear tennis shoes in January but not September through December or February through April? I’d love to know more about that one!)
Tammi this is truly wonderful. I like how it really all connected in the end in a nostalgic, delighted tone. I am seeing bits and pieces of my quirky family members reveal themselves in me too. Thank you for sharing.
Tammi, what fun! Though I’ve never heard these particular quirky ones, I smiled at those I recall from my family. My favorite, “Leave in time to be late!” Thanks for evoking memories.
Tammi,
I love this! If “Monday was “Monday all day unless it rained”” where I live, I’d rarely have another Monday–bring it on! It’s like aphorisms in a new language–you only understand if you’re a native speaker. 🙂
As soon as I read this prompt I knew what quirky exchange I wanted to capture and since it happened at Christmas I knew I wanted to mimic the classic “Twas The Night Before Christmas” poem.
It took me longer — which is why this is coming now — but I am quite pleased with the result:
A Christmas Scavenger Hunt
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
younger siblings were sleeping, while one brewed with doubts.
The youngest was a lover of puzzles and games,
And on this particular eve wished to be entertained.
And so before bed he challenged by letter,
St. Nick to establish a hunt for some treasure.
And I having learned of Santa’s true state
Joined my other in crating a puzzle with haste.
We wrote out each riddle and hid every clue
and had the task done well before two.
And when my brother arose from his long winter’s nap,
he rushed down the stairs and fell for our trap.
Each leg of the quest sent him running about:
up the stairs, down the stairs, going inside, and out.
We followed with glee as he searched high and low
until he found the present and merrily crowed:
“What fun this was! Santa really was here!”
And then we had to do the same thing the next year.
And this is a lesson in proof reading because the line should be:
“joined my mother in crafting a puzzle with haste.”
Erica,
Thank you for our story time and the rhythmic bounce of the quest and running about. Such joy of family tradition and how sweet of the siblings to be all in with it. So precious.
Peace,
Sarah
Awesome, Erica! This sounds like so much fun and so much work. I’m sure your brother loved it. I so appreciate the work you put in to this poem. Well done!
I’m so glad you took the time to write and get your words exactly as they are to share this Christmas tradition with us. I’m learning so much today about the fun that my writing community has at work and home. It’s crafty how you took the familiar verse and rewrote your jingle with your own story embedded. I’m glad you wrote today!
Erica, this poem is SO fun! It is so clever and fitting that you connected this to the ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas poem. The ending was just perfect–all the work paid off…but now you’d have to do it all again! I’m smiling just reading and imaging this.
My students tell me I’m quirky as heck, but I struggled with this today. Long day, so I’m surrendering the muse until tomorrow.
I know I teach high schoolers,
but give me kindergarten days
to teach their inner children.
Sacred hoops for Winterkill,
Peyote beading for Fools Crow,
Scratchboards for The Inferno,
Poems on oranges for The Murmur of Bees,
Flying homemade kites for The Kite Runner,
Origami for The Housekeeper and the Professor,
Two faced fans for In the Time of the Butterflies,
Graphic novel pages for No Exit,
handmade Mother’s Day cards,
and more projects lost with books replaced.
Don’t let me get to the point of not
rejoicing in the silly, creative, even
downright childish projects–
that’s where the magic happens.
I like how this took the form of the list poem and also served as a reflection for you. I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit and I, for one, love some of these ideas! I love that you have assignments and projects like this and I’m sure your students also appreciate it.
This creative and hands-on way of responding to text is timeless – from childhood to young adulthood and beyond, a response project is a great way to think and reflect. I like that you allow the creativity to flow in your students – yours sure flows here! Thank you for sharing.
“that’s where the magic happens” is so true! I love walking into your room and not only knowing that a lot of incredible literary discussions happen there, but your room is MAGICAL: the posters, the student work, the colors! I love how you connected projects to different literary works. Excellent!
Cara, you nailed it with this closing stanza,
Don’t let me get to the point of not
rejoicing in the silly, creative, even
downright childish projects–
that’s where the magic happens.
No matter the age of the student, when the fun and funny goes, so does the learning! Thanks for the reminder.
Kim, thanks for today’s prompt. I love the title of your poem and think keeping a group together with a squeaky duck is extremely clever! My brother the plumber likes to play this particular trick. I still need to figure out some kind of payback.
Alien Bomb Drop
little green men appear
no place is sacred here
one hides behind a beloved book
another in a corner nook
some perched high to provide
a bird’s eye view to spy
like secret hidden cameras we find
green beady eyes—enough to blow our mind
I smile inside, feeling no fear
knowing my clever brother’s been here
Barb Edler
11 April 2022
Barb,
Writing this in couplets tells me you and your brother are/were close. The rhyme is perfect and the story is playful. Fun poem.
Thanks, Glenda. I’ve lost three siblings, but I do have a younger brother and sister who are still living. They’re twins and we are all very close. They live a couple hours away, and I usually go to see them, but he is a plumber and has come down to help us with some more difficult projects. After his visit, lo and behold, there are aliens everywhere. I meant to take a picture of one that is still propped on a cup holder in our upstairs bathroom.
Barb, this note makes your poem all the richer and more meaningful. You must share the poem w/ your brother, and include that photo! What fun you must be having discovering the hiding men.
Barb, I love that your brother pranks you this way. That first part had me wondering if they were little parachuting soldiers thrown over a bathroom door! I think it’s so funny that we never really outgrow our childhood play with siblings. Your brother sounds like a lot of fun!
Barb,
Love the rhyme and rhythm of this poem. What a fun memory! I hope you think of a good payback!
I loved this poem. It reminds me of all the quirky things my brother did when we were growing up.
Kiss Plumes
You know that little strip of paper
sticking out of a Hershey’s
chocolate kiss
placed there for advertisement,
ease of opening, show
some call it
a niggly-wiggly (what?)
but its technical name is
a plume
and there are thousands of them
packed into a jar
on our dresser
parading a rainbow of words:
kisses, hugs, almonds,
cherry, caramel, peanut butter,
cheesecake, mint truffle, candy cane,
pumpkin spice
and even
be my valentine
a big ribbon wraps around the jar
with a smudged tag that reads
“a kiss every day for the rest of your life”
I can’t remember when
(or why?)
I started collecting plumes
but I do remember
friends passing them to me
in class
siblings making
kiss plume piles for me
at Christmas time—
and later, sending them to me
in envelopes
everyone asked what
I was going to do with them
I didn’t know
except that I was saving them
for something special
and I guess that something special
was you
you’re welcome
Rachel, this is that moment! The Kiss Plume purpose – they have been in wait of this very moment, these lines that you have written to make them shine and make us all wish we, too, had Kiss plumes. I had no idea what they were called – and now every time I see a Kiss Plume, I will think of the day I learned of them from you. I like the cherry ones best!
Rachel, love the process of your poem and that your friends and family were so willing to save these plumes for you. Precious idea and perfect end!
Rachel — I simply adore everything about this poem! I can see the jar filled with plumes. I love the way this story unfolds and these lines “a big ribbon wraps around the jar/with a smudged tag that reads/ “a kiss every day for the rest of your life”.
Aww! What a charming quirk and poem. And I really did let out a loud “awww” at the end. I felt the love and joy of this poem and wasn’t sure what to expect — I have never heard the term “niggly-wiggly” though so I am glad you wound up with plume.
This is THE sweetest!
quirky?
how about
obsessively talking about themselves?
inability to moderate one’s voice?
singing boldly off-key?
always wearing clothes backwards?
or inside out?
refusing to put on a jacket?
how about
always needing to be first?
only eating sandwiches cut in triangles?
eating from the floor?
an obsession with opening and emptying things?
endless hand-washing?
or its opposite,
fear of water and soap?
how about
recoiling at a toilet’s flush?
quirky?
no, just a preschool classroom!
teachers
expect
peculiar
Maureen,
I kept thinking “wut?” as I read this quirky list. I should have realized when I saw “eating from the floor” I was reading about preschoolers. ? That list is evidence for preferring the company of teens. Yes,
“Teachers
expect
peculiar.”
What a life we’ve lived among children.
Maureen, you had me in stitches there at the end – just a normal day in PreK! I was worried about the triangle sandwich eater for a minute, especially thinking this was all the same person. And eating off the floor. Oh, hoot! How funny!
Got me too! So fun! I love “only eating sandwiches cut in triangles” and “obsession with opening and emptying things” – yes, teachers expect peculiar!!
Maureen, I had to laugh by the time I got to the end of your poem. I can totally understand the quirky behavior of young people, but really thought the “recoiling at a toilet’s flush” was particularly interesting because really there is something scary about a toilet flush, but I’m sure glad we have them! I kind of like triangles, too:) Very fun poem! Thank you!
Maureen — Yup! You’ve captured preschool quirky perfectly. I literally laughed out loud at “endless hand-washing?/or its opposite,/fear of water and soap?/how about/ recoiling at a toilet’s flush?”
Maureen, your poem perfectly captures the life of a pre-school teacher. Thank you for this reminder. I’m in a middle school and some of this resembles my world.
Before We Run
mid-Friday afternoon and two things
need to happen for an ancient
tribal ritual as we set off
to cross-country run on some Denver
golf course.
Thing One:
one of the Marks will recover
the football-sized wooden bead
from the locker room,
carry it like a god
perched on a gym towel,
chipped green paint and all,
board the bus very last to our wild cheers–
Thee Bead! Thee bead! The bead!
Thing Two:
as the 60 passenger leaning bus
rounds the corner past Dairy Queen,
someone cool in the back,
someone like Fraunfelder
who is already actually shaving and doesn’t
give a damn
will lean out the window and shout,
top of his lungs,
Hey ya gonna eat that shit?
And the bus will break out in raucous laughter,
And coach will scold Fraunfelder again
And everyone will be stupid hyper happy
And not know what any of it means
other than
This is just actually IT,
and just how it will always be.
“This is just actually IT,
and just how it will always be” – Excellent insight into what we love about our quirky ones! I hear delirious joy for this cross-country team!
There is always a Fraunfelder in the mix – and some tears we have multiple Fraunfelders all in the same class. You definitely develop character in this one today! Thanks for sharing!
thank you Kim!
This brought back some fun memories of “quirky” bus traditions that took place on my marching band bus in high school! “And everyone will be stupid hyper happy / And not know what any of it means” – this is exactly right. Thank you!!
lol–thanks Rachel. Yes, school bus trips of any kind seem pretty storied, right?
Kevin, sounds like a group of people I used to know who played soccer. I could feel that frenetic energy within the bus. Your end is especially satisfying! Life at its best! Full of fun and camaraderie!
thanks Barb! And, soccer players are just cross country runners who chase a ball 😉
Kevin,
Oh, those bus rides! Thing two is hysterical! When you get 60 high schoolers on a bus, anything and everything goes. This was a fun poem!
thank you Tammi!
I love this premise, Kim, and I can totally see rolling my eyes at something and then deciding it’s actually pret-ty darn cool! Alas, it’s a glumpy Monday, so this is the best I can quirk up today.
Bone Mama
Tell me two truths and one lie
that age-old icebreaker
to get us all to know one another
more than we would probably want
“I collect bones”
is my favorite quirk that no one
ever guesses could be true
“respectfully harvested” I add
(It’s not as if I killed the things
and even if I had
what right have you omnivores got
to turn your noses up at me?)
Roadkill is common among us rural folk
deer, skunk, possum, rabbit
occasionally something more exotic
the faster fox or aquatic muskrat
I kept glass bowls and baskets full
of ritually cleansed femur fibula tibia
radius ulna humerus scapula pelvis
and whole reconstructed vertebrae
The most prized of course
the skull with teeth still intact
eternally gazing from atop
the pile of its former self
Why? is always what I’m asked
and that I cannot say
except I feel a melancholy connection
to the permanence of absence
I no longer harvest bones
and those I had I gave away
suffice to say I’m not alone
in my appreciation
So really ’tis no quirk at all.
Oh, how I love this phrase – “the permanence of absence.” I am sure you caught many off-guard with this ‘harvesting’ but it seems quite ordinary for a scientific mind, I think.
Denise, I’m so glad to meet another (former) bone collector. And snakeskins, don’t forget about those. Science of bones is fascinating, it’s not just for the official archaeologists. I’ll bet you do stump a lot of people with that truth vs. fib. What’s the neatest bone you have ever seen? I love your poem! Yes to the bones! Fascinating.
OMGosh, Kim – yes! Snakeskins, owl pellets, wasp nests, feathers – I love alll those beautiful remnants. I gather them and pile them around the house, write about them, draw them. I do believe if I’d grown up in a later time (more positive for girls in STEM), science would have been my jam. A horse jawbone with teeth intact used as a percussion instrument is the neatest ever. They rattle and can be tapped and rubbed with a stick for some of the coolest sounds. Skulls of any kind are the best, but not always retrievable whole, so they are prized. Cheers to bonegrrls!
Denise, I have often wished my body could become a skeleton in a classroom. There is something truly beautiful about bones. Loved your lines “except I feel a melancholy connection/to the permanence of absence”. Beautiful and haunting!
Denise — This is a fascinating poem. I was especially struck by this stanza:
Why? is always what I’m asked/and that I cannot say/except I feel a melancholy connection
to the permanence of absence.”
Denise, reading through your poem is as thrilling as finding these relics out in the wild. Ever since I was little, I’ve also loved finding, and at times collecting, bones, shells, skins, fossils, etc. And yes the “melancholy connection/to the permanence of absence” is such a juicy line. Thanks for sharing!
Kim, I laughed all the way through this post. You captured such delight (and possibly annoyance) with wit and grace! Thank you for your inspiring poem! Mine below.
Quirky Singers
We’ve always been
likened to the
family Von Trapp
My mom had a voice
like Maria –
Edelweiss
We even had
the same ratio
Of girls and boys –
Five to two
We sing
as a family
in many
odd places:
on stage
weddings
even funerals
We smile
and are gracious
knowing our voice
brings joy
to many
faces
Quirky you ask?
It might seem
sweet to you…
But as our musical
family knows
no celebration
would be
complete
without our
singing
Happy Birthday
in perfect
four-part
harmony
Christine,
We need to hear (and see) your family Von Trap! This seems like a lovely way for a family to spend time together–unless you wear matching outfits made from old curtains!
What a delightful quirk! I suspect there is much family closeness from this singing together.
I would love to see a video of your family singing! I think it would be amazing to 1) be able to sing and 2) have a family who could flash mob. One person in my entire family can sing. And maybe that’s a good thing – if I could sing I would sing all my talk. That birthday song in 4 part harmony would be neat to record and put on YouTube for sharing! Thanks so much for sharing. I feel tears at the mere mention of Edelweiss.
This sounds so wonderful. I wish I could sing. I love music, dance, and theater.
What a lovely memory, Christine! How I miss four-part harmony! Now that so few schools “teach” music to all students, we no longer hear four-part harmony at church unless the singing is coming from the choir, or nowadays, the “praise team”. The songs of praise and worship still are soul-stirring, but that’s not the same as the four-part harmony of the hymns and cantatas!
Thank you, Kim. What a fun prompt. It’s another travel day for me, so I don’t have time. I’ll have to add my family quirks to my writing notebook. I think we could get a lot of traction out of this prompt. I love Squeaky in Berlin, and especially that even though you all made fun of this idea, ducks were bought.
We spent lots of time with T & K this week, my son-in-law T composed a song about the quirks of the Krebs. There was rhyming involved—quirk/jerk and Keith/teeth. So when I saw Kim’s prompt today, I had to ask in our family group for specifics—”Ok, my poem of the day is to write about something quirky that we do. I thought of T’s song. Any specific Krebs’ quirks I can write about?” I got just one suggestion from my daughter, which made me laugh. As for me, I didn’t even consider it a quirk and had forgotten all about it.
Calling things by their 18th century names
How about the quirk you have
of calling things by archaic names:
Chest of drawers
instead
of dresser
Ice chest
instead
of cooler
Bathing suit
instead of
swimsuit
How was I supposed to know?
At least I don’t call a sofa a
davenport.
Denise, this is so much fun, and it would make me want to label 18th Century names of things on everything I owned. I think I am going to find a way to use “davenport” this week somehow – like put something on the couch and when my husband asks if I’ve seen it, say, “yeah, dear, it’s on the davenport,” just to see his reaction. What a fun family antic, and I love that you opened it up for your people to chime in on what they found quirky. And at least you don’t call the chest of drawers a chester drawers like my grandfather did. You bring great memories today, and loads of quirky fun with these words. I’m glad you took time to post – – I know it’s hard when traveling.
Denise,
This is a lovely exploration of names and naming and the way our words reveal perspective, place, ways of our personal-familial worlds. That longer nonitalicized sentence “How was I supposed to know?” is that intrusion of should or ought that people press upon us — as if there is a right or correct way. Is archaic wrong? You have me wondering, and I think the speaker here is doing a good job or making us wonder together.
Hugs,
Sarah
What fun Denise. It would be fun to use these terms with students. I’d love to say Davenport just once to see the reaction from my kids!
Denise,
This has both a ring of familiarity and a way of making me wonder what names now will be archaic in thirty or forty years. Fridge used to be ice box; flip flops used to be thongs (boy did that change!). Some archaic changes are for the best. Remember “master bedroom”? Much better to call it the main or primary bedroom. I learned that from HGTV.
The things our kids notice about us! ha! I should have asked my sons to share our quirks – I’m simply too close to notice the peculiar. I think you should now ONLY use davenport for sofa!!
I like this poem and find it quite clever — it’s well suited as a list poem! I especially like the ending because that only seems like a challenge to me to try and bring back the name: davenport.
Denise, I love this reminder of the old-timey terms. My parents often used the word “Davenport”. I think I still say “bathing suit!” I’ve been trying to think of some more archaic names. “The Frigidaire” comes to mind. Being wrung “through the wringer” is another. “Ashtray” is one we rarely think of anymore, thank God. And before that, “spittoon”!
I appreciated your poem and the pronunciation of Silke’s name may have been my fave since I live in a German speaking country. Wasn’t sure I had it in me to find my own brand of quirky today but I managed.
Quirky
Once
I described
to my teen
a situation in which
my role was a silly one
at best; a painfully awkward one
seen 40 years later through his eyes.
He sympathized but then said these words:
Please don’t tell me you were the quirky Black girl.
Sherri, good job finding your own quirky. This poem is an invitation to a story. I hope you will write more sometime. I like the shape of your poem too.
Sherri, this is precious. He loves his mama! Such comic relief even in his sympathy – it broke the ice and made you laugh, didn’t it? I sure did! (I would now want the t-shirt that says I was the quirky black girl, just to keep the fun going……what a memorable quote and a memorable moment! 🙂 Love this!
Sherri,
This is a clever approach, to tell us without telling us, to focus on the exchange with the teen and his shift in perspective toward you to be sympathetic toward you. This focus zooms us into your relationship and away from whatever the situation was — though I am still curious. Perhaps another poem. Perhaps you will keep that private. Love that the writers here are free to choose what to leave in the margins of our poems.
Peace,
Sarah
Quack, Squeak, Quack – how Cringe is that? Cringe is the 2022 Quirk.
Kim thank you for hosting today and your work is always an inspiration for me.
Today I am sharing all the Moon-isms (quirky sayings) of my classroom. This is how I speak with my students! I stole some, revamped some, but some are original. Thanks! Mrs. Bennett for teaching me “Ladies and Jellyspoons” in the second grade.
Moon logic
“As you leave stack the books on the shelf,
Don’t go nowhere unless you with somebody
or by yourself.”
“I know ya’ll will go far
because-
Wherever you go, there you are!”
“You fast like a turtle
And
A one-legged duck swims in a circle.”
“You know you unbelievable
and
Alligator -Snowman is undefeatable.”
“You will be fine –
Be the Mountain Lion!”
“I’m great
like a rattlesnake.”
“On Friday – I Say
Only two days till Monday!”
“Dats not fun
Dat’s stupid dumb.”
“Man please,
give me some cheese.”
“Test day is the best day.”
“What it do, bar-b-que?”
“It is what it is!
Cause it ain’t what it ain’t-
don’t dry wet paint– cause you can’t!”
“You might regret
the things you ‘pose to remember
and not forget.”
“You’re cooler than the flipside of da pillow!”
“My words are awkward like a door hinge,
So far fetched
Like Stonehenge,
Accurate as rhinoceroses’ revenge,
So ridiculous make a fool cringe.”
“ Hear me if you Holla at me!”
….and the really “extra” bonus is that I can hear you saying these in your authentic voice. My favorite may be “don’t go nowhere unless you with somebody or by yourself.” And my second favorite is “what it do, bar-b-que?” Your teacher’s use of Ladies and Jellyspoons set a pattern in motion in your young life to really fall in love with words and the fun they bring. This Moon Logic is fun for kids and fun for adults, too! I love it, and it keeps things fun for the students!
Wow, those Moonisms are everything today. Some favorites: “You’re cooler than the flipside of da pillow!” and “I know ya’ll will go far because–Wherever you go, there you are!” I love the title too.
You are really making those kids think and all of us laugh! You have to have humor in the classroom. Love the phrase – a one legged duck swims in a circle
I love “On Friday — I Say / Only two days till Monday!” So funny. Thanks for that!
Bendable Jesus
By Nancy White
There was this little guy
Who always wore a smile
His robe was cheery red
He had a hippie style
With strappy leather sandals
Long hair and beard of brown
Those who hung around him
Could never wear a frown
We’d take him out to breakfast
He usually ordered toast
He always posed for selfies
with his pal, Holy Ghost
Some people didn’t like him
They said he bends too much
They never got to know him
Or feel his magic touch
His name was Bendable…
Bendable Jesus
We all called him BJ for short
His name was Bendable…
Bendable Jesus
He’d make us laugh so loud
that we would snort
We often went out driving
He’d ask, “How do you feel?”
I’d say, “I’m sick of driving.”
He’d promptly take the wheel
We visited the sick
He cheered them up
He usually sat and listened
Just perched upon a cup
Sometimes I really miss him—
Oh the jokes he’d play!
I heard he’s in retirement
But he’ll be back someday
His name was Bendable…
Bendable Jesus
We all called him BJ for short
His name was Bendable…
Bendable Jesus
He’d make us laugh so loud
that we would snort
This was just great! Real medicine of the humorous type. “We called him BJ for short…”
So many clever allusions, my favorite: “he’d promptly take the wheel”
Thanks for sharing BJ with us!
Bendable Jesus! And even a picture of BJ there in his robe amongst the flowers. I love this:
He always posed for selfies
with his pal, Holy Ghost
What a memory! This figurine reminds me of the Where’s Waldo figure that my parents would hide – I think it was about the same size, and honestly provided such rich entertainment for them taking turns hiding, then finding it. Bendable Jesus. I think I might need to grab one of these and take it around with me in my car. I’m just fascinated that the same concept as Gumby and Pokey extended on along to Bendable Jesus.
How I loved reading this! What a joyful
piece. I love the image you presented with BJ and his friend the Holy Ghost. And now I need to see if they still make Bendable Jesus. I know someone who would be thrilled to receive one!
Nancy,
This is both hilarious and miraculous for its subtext. I don’t think I’ve seen the
Gumby version of Jesus. It reminds me of Chris Crutcher’s story about the Jesus pin that lost the “J” in “King of the Mild Frontier.” Perfect quirky story for a Monday. I can’t stop smiling.
I suppose one measure of a good poem and good story is how long it stays on your mind. I’ve been thinking about BJ all afternoon. Somehow you got this thing squeezed/bent up just right between the sacred and the hilarious, Nancy.
Nancy-
Stanza 7 made me chortle and mis-swallow my coffee. The best.
This is good! I bet you had such great times with BJ! Time to resurrect him! The rhyme works well with the playful content.
High School Antics
Back before cell phones
when moms didn’t worry
about you on a Sunday afternoon
if you were gone all day
as long as you made it home before 8pm,
My friend Andrea and I, spent a lazy day
meandering around Santa Monica, CA
Lollygaging at the beach, noticing and laughing at the
crazy people on the boardwalk, trying but failing at
skateboarding, some guys let us use theirs
eating ice cream and slices of pizza
then in Twilight, kicking our sandals, one at a time, across the street
waiting for our final buses before heading home
After about 10 minutes of this silliness, one of my
sandals, hit a lady who was walking by.
She stopped and fussed at us from across the street
and of course we took off running in shame.
We hid until she walked away
I never found my sandal and had to tell my parents
a lie about why I came home without one shoe.
I’m thankful the sandal was a cheap rubber one and didn’t
hit her in the face.
by Seana Hurd Wright
April 11, 2022
Seana, I’m glad she was okay, but I’m laughing at this, especially having to come up with an appropriate lie for why you only had one shoe. I can almost feel your heartbeat as you hid, waiting on her to leave so that you could come out. The visual images are so funny.
Seana, what a fun memory to share. I can just see you enjoying the day and not meaning anything when kicking your sandals across the street, and then being scolded. I can’t imagine it hurt her but maybe caught her off guard. Either way sounds like a wonderful day until you had to return with only one sandal. Very fun poem! Thank you!
I love this, Seana. The way you describe running around town till after dark just hanging out. Your story sounds exactly like something that would have happened to me growing up. I would have hid, too! And then to have to come up with a lie! Ohhh the things we used to try to pull over in on parents’ eyes. Usually they figured things out, though.
Kim, I just love this poem. It was a very fun read. We’re so used to hearing about the Mother Hen, but these lines made me laugh out loud:
“people stopped and stared
at this grown woman
little duck
held high
squeaking
leading a team
wondering whether they, too,
might better get in line”
If I were them, I’d get in line too. She seemed like a person you didn’t want to fall out of line with! She was the HDIC- Head Duck in Charge!
Thank you for sharing, and here’s mine. Some background- at my previous school, I had car rider duty, but I volunteered so it wasn’t like I had to. I held up the stop sign to let students cross from building to building. This wasn’t easy! I had parents who would whizz right on by me while in the crosswalk and there were definitely close calls from students and drivers who weren’t paying attention. It was the inspiration of the GT Coordinator to dress up because she had duty also. She’s quirky but has an assertive soul, so she wouldn’t have it any other way. This was one of the things I could go with the flow on. It was a wild ride I will always remember!
Car Rider Line Duty Stint
Oh the triceratops, watch out for my rudder!
Traveling down that mile-long hallway with a judder.
Struggling to reach door handles and with vigorous flaps,
Greeting students with wide eyes and giggling smiles with toothless gaps!
Arriving in my mustard yellow sweater and Favorite Denim Blue,
Nope, not a normal day with this enthusiastic crew!
Completing my outfit, a shrunken vest and cowboy hat, with hugs from a kindergartner.
Here’s bowlegged Woody, speaking, “Howdy Partner!”
An extra “Thing 5” for Read Across America Week,
Stepping out with many faces in books, kids forgetting to speak.
Holding my red and white octagon with my furry blue wig wild with curls,
Going from side to side, car to car, maneuvering in twirls.
The simplest superhero costume, a shirt,
No today, not gonna be an extravert.
Black Panther, Supergirl, and Wonder Woman this day,
Themes from movies and tv shows, full-fledged costumes in the archway.
One of those “Extra duties as assigned” in my contract,
I didn’t sign up for it, it’s a part of the invisible pact.
Social Media famous presence on the school’s Facebook cover photo, but no extra pay.
Ehhh….just give me extra plan time, but can I put this on my resume?
Jessica, I love the HDIC! Yes – yes, she was! And even more, I love that you volunteered to help with car duty (you are one in fifty million) AND kept it fun with costumes and twirls and wigs and curls. You know how to have fun, and I think of all the days you changed for the good just by having that first positive contact each morning (or last smile each afternoon). I believe that you absolutely should put it on your resume, complete with pictures of yourself wearing each outfit. The invisible pact you chose is to make a difference – – and you sure do!
Thank you, thank you, thank you Kimberly! I do believe first and last impressions are important. I didn’t think about updating it for my current position. I bet the Superintendent would’ve gotten a kick out of that!
Jessica, I can just see these young children smiling at you in your costumes. What a wonderful idea and generous gift of your time. Loved your last line “can I put this on my resume?” I say yes, under volunteering! What a great poem and shame on the people whizzing by…ahhhhh…my greatest fear would be hitting a child with my vehicle. Thank you for sharing this marvelous poem!
Yes Barb, they thoroughly enjoyed us! And I think I will go back and add that little line to give it a little flair. And I have put my sign…and foot in harms way to save a child! I didn’t okay avoid that! And you’re welcome!
Over the fence with the bartender and cook;
They both knew me as the waiter.
I got a splinter as I slid down the planks,
But the cut didn’t pull crimson copper.
The resort on the hill promised hot tubs.
We didn’t make plans, we just went.
The water was warm and our outlook was cold.
God damn us, if rules went unbent.
We were the ones that midnight saw;
The ones who chased dreams in the dark.
We didn’t have swimsuits. Underwear was fine
When trespassing in national parks.
The cook told a joke from his hometown
While the bartender hummed to herself.
I listened to both as the liquor wore on
And reconsidered my thoughts about wealth.
A rat in the tub made the bartender scream.
The cook tried to tell her “it’s fake!”
But the man in a uniform, hearing the noise,
Called out from the window opaque
We jumped from the pool, breathless from laughing,
And ran with our clothes in a wad.
I dropped my shirt, but I didn’t care
Because I was one of the gods.
Gravel and grass clung to my feet.
My phone held the selfies we took.
Liquor wore off as I came to my senses, back
Over the fence with the bartender and cook.
What a story of midnight fun! I love your rhyme scheme and the playfulness of such reverie. I think this is my favorite stanza:
We were the ones that midnight saw;
The ones who chased dreams in the dark.
We didn’t have swimsuits. Underwear was fine
When trespassing in national parks.
Trespassing in underwear in the dark at midnight chasing dreams……oh, the stuff of life! What fun that you shared these sacred and secret moments with us today. I’m glad you turned the lights on for just a moment so we could take a peek at all the fun you were having.
Thank you so much! I didn’t sneak around much as teenager, but this was a rare moment of impulse that I reflect on often. I appreciate the feedback!
This sounds like a delightful evening. I almost wish I had been there and that’s what a story is supposed to do. I enjoyed the line, “Liquor wore off as I came to my senses…”
The vocabulary you used was spectacular too, “crimson copper, gravel and grass, window opaque, rules went unbent” Thanks for sharing this.
Thank you so much for reading, and I’m glad you enjoyed the story!
Stephenos, oh my gosh, this is wonderful! I was completely pulled into your scene and felt like I was with you in the hot tub, running with your clothes in a wad, climbing the fence, and feeling the gravel and grass on my feet. Excellent poem!
I’m so glad you enjoyed it, thank you so much!
I didn’t set out to write such a sad poem after reading such a playful squeaky-duck prompt. Still, I’m committed to sharing whatever thought finds its way to this page. Thanks for your clever prompt.
Behind every hidden quirk,
an adaptation:
Poem in her pocket every day, not once a year
(Then there’s a pair of us. Don’t tell.)
Singing show tunes in the shower that nobody can hear
(Withered leaves collecting at her feet.)
Two teacups on the counter.
Two key rings in the hall.
Dancing with her shadow
doesn’t hurt at all.
The last two lines, Ann…that’s the punch. Hoping the show tunes can be heard in the blowing of the leaves (fall), the whispering of grass (summer), the awakening of birds (spring) and the frosting of windows (winter).
Yes, that last line got my attention. I think it is fabulous that you let the pen lead and wrote what found its way to the page. That’s what we want – authentic, heartfelt poetry that makes us look at things from different angles. You have a winner here – – it packs a punch.
Ann,
I found your poem nostalgic. Maybe it’s because I’m reconciled to this aging thing. I love the last line and am all for dancing w/ one’s shadow, as long as we dance, it’s all good. Did you mean the “two teacups” as an allusion to “The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock” because that’s where my mind went. And you can’t go wrong referencing Emily Dickinson.
Kim, my friend, I love today’s prompt and your mentor poem. Fun, fun, fun! I imagined kindergarten teachers using a rubber duck to line classes up. Hilarious!
I never imagined sharing one of my best kept secrets here in a poem, but here it is!
My Teacher Has a Twin?
Tracey Mean
came to class
to substitute
for Stacey Joy.
Their teacher
has a twin?
Who knew?
Same smiles
way different
demeanors
same hair
way different
styles.
Ms. Mean had
The Look
the one that
stilled the squigglers
the one that
darted inquiring eyes
away
Ms. Joy had
a similar look
but let wigglers wiggle
one that
pulled yearning eyes
in.
Ms. Mean
didn’t like teaching
but needed to
pay a visit
to help convince
the fifth grade crazies
into thinking
she would stay
FOREVER.
She met one dad
at dismissal
who said,
What a pleasure to meet you.
I didn’t know Ms. Joy had a twin.
She replied
The pleasure is all mine.
Ms. Joy came back
the next day
and the next
a few weeks later
Dad waited
for Ms. Joy
at dismissal
he hugged her
and said,
I’m happy
I got to meet
your twin.
But I saw
the difference
right away.
Ms. Mean
don’t like to play.
©Stacey L. Joy, 4/11/22
(5 years of classes from 2011-2016 still believe Ms. Joy has a twin.??)
I’ve been meaning to meet Ms. Mean, I mean…it’s hard to find meaning in anything other than Ms. Joy. Is there a Ms. Viola Swamp connection here? If so, I hope Ms. Mean wore better lipstick. Love this, and I know I love this because I want to know more.
Ooooooh, you are a smart, crafty one, my friend! This has ALL the makings of a picture book FOR TEACHERS about how to call in just the right sub for those days when……well, when students need to meet the twin. You have quite a secret story – but not for students. I would imagine that some of those students tell QUITE a different story about what happened when the twin sub was there :). I would be laughing so hard I would give myself away. I love your last line: Ms. Mean don’t like to play. Nope. Nope.
It was sooooo fun! I never broke character thanks to my theater arts training. But here’s the kicker, that same dad saw me years later at a jazz concert. He asked about my twin. I had to confess. HE DID NOT BELIEVE ME! ?? My actual sister was with me, she had to tell him it was true, no twin.
Maybe one day I’ll write a poem about Middle School Day. That’s when I dress up as 4 different teachers to get my scholars ready for middle school teachers.
Stacey,
How absolutely delightful! I truly wish I had the theatrical ability to pretend to be Ms. Mean for a day, but I’m afraid I’d break character in the first period. I was rapt with attention through your whole poem. Such fun!
So much fun to imagine how you develop this alter-ego character in your classroom!
What? Really! That is awesome. Great job with the theatrics. I’m sure those students would not prefer to have Ms. Mean rather than Ms. Joy. Love this, Stacey!
This is so good, Stacey! Thank you for sharing one of your “best kept secrets”! Lol. We won’t tell! I love the passage about Ms. Mean “need[ing] to / pay a visit / to help convince / the fifth grade crazies / into thinking / she would stay / FOREVER.” This is genius! I think I need to invent a twin, too.
Stacey,
I’m just glad we always get Ms. Joy. That Ms. Mean gets around to most teachers, I think. She likes to wiggle and jiggle her way into teachers’ bodies, like some crazed poltergeist. I want to know more about “the fifth grade crazies”!
Stacey Mean, I mean Joy! You are the best! I wish I could pull this off. Here’s to wiggling wigglers and the joy that accepts them. Your last line is fire.
Crowns
By: Emily Yamasaki
its
just
a mechanical pencil
but
that clear, sleek
stark, white cylindrical
eraser sits on his head like a crown
each of the triplet
pencil princes
take their place on the
thrones inside my bag
never use the eraser
you wouldn’t tarnish a crown, would you?
Emily,
Cool subject, and I totally get it! Love the comparison of the eraser to a crown…and the “pencil princes” were priceless. 🙂
Emily, the personification of mechanical pencils here is rich in quirky perceptions of how you see these crowned rulers safely tucked into the pocket thrones of your bag. Nope, no tarnishing of the crowns! This is fun and definitely shows your quirky side. I love it.
As one who since childhood has somehow personalized the inanimate, I love this poem. Of course it’s not “just” a mechanical pencil. Of course she is a princess! Enjoyed this poem from crown to point!
Emily, such a fun topic to personify! I mean, who doesn’t love mechanical pencils (other than the teacher who detests when someone’s loose leads are left on the classroom floor for 40-inch long drag marks)!
I never thought of the eraser as a crown, especially one…
“you wouldn’t tarnish…”
Love it!
Kim, I love this story — and your poem! And what a great prompt. I’m mom to a couple of gamer girls, and it didn’t take long to light on a topic:
Quick fingers, quick wit, light hands
Tapping keys
Create girls far from dull.
Quarantine and remote learning
Created kids far from ordinary.
This combo produced?
A need for
Security.
Enter…
Doppo and Ramuda.
Salary-Man and
Fashion icon.
Spawn of Hypnosis Mic…
Hypnotized are my spawn
By the post-ironic
Meta-ironic
(Does Gen Z know
Any other way?)
Appreciation
Distraction
Of security blankets
who grace
Car Rides
Road Trips
Windowsills
Smiling benignly
Scowling haughtily
Peeping over car seats
Kings of Insta posts
Sister in-joke familiarity
Sorely needed hilarity
(I wonder
what they –
cotton-stuffed
doll eyed –
think of us?)
Wendy, sisterly gaming, mischief, smiles, scowls – what memories and pranks and relationships are made of – and how clever to use a gaming theme here to capture the quirkiness and secret society of sisterhood.
Wendy, I love the word play throughout your poem, and how you show your daughter’s ability to use technology creatively. Thanks for sharing the photo at the end. Awesome poem!
Kim,
This is such a fun prompt. I love the way prose can inspire poetry. I’m thinking about your earlier blog post about the squeaky duck. This prompt took me to my early career teaching days and a memory I followed down a google search rabbit hole resulting in an email to the Arizona Director of Environmental Quality who may be (maybe not) one of the people in my poem. It’s a mystery for which I’m awaiting a response.
Matchmaker
as though living
in a Jane Austin
novel in 1980s
Arizona i said
i know a girl
who’s kind &
cute & smart
like you i’ll
introduce you two
between classes
when he lamented
there are no
good girls
to date
in this school.
on prom night
he was her Darcy
she his Elizabeth
i drove her &
a friend to San Luis
just over the border
from Yuma to see
my seamstress
who made their
prom dresses
they stopped by
our townhouse for
photos before going
to the dance
she in her black &
teal poofy dress
he in his black tux
a match made
like those in
a nineteenth
century novel
—Glenda Funk
April 11, 2022
Glenda–this is so lovely. Your gift of yourself to these two young people was greater than you you can know. “a match made /like those in /a nineteenth /century novel” So, did they stay together? Inquiring minds want to know…
Glenda, there is nothing as wonderful as a match made by those who know……who see chemistry in who are not knowing of the potential. I’m glad you made the match. Now I’m curious how it “took.” I love that you made the reference to the Jane Austin era. I love a great literary reference. Thanks for writing today, and keep us posted on these two.
Glenda, love this story! And love the gossipy, tea-spilling flow of this with its minimalist punctuation and single sentence stanzas. Beautiful!
Awww, this is precious! You’re responsible for their forever love! I think that must be why your marriage is filled with love and longevity. Such a special gift to bring two souls together.
Sweeeeeet!!!
Oh my goodness – what a precious quirky memory! This is so special – shows how dear you were to these two:
Matchmaking, Glenda! I had no idea you had this skill, too!!
Glenda, I can totally see you being the matchmaker. I would love to hear more if you hear back from the email you sent. Love the details of the date, the clothes, and the measures you took to get these two together. What a gift!
Kim – I like the squeaky duck story as a blog post – now as a quirky poem, it is even better. You got down to the essence. Reminds me of a lone cantaloupe I found in the grocery store.
A Place of Everything
A place for everything,
Everything in its place.
The world organized:
Make the bed,
Brush your teeth,
Ash your face,
Moisturize, moisturize
Brush your hair,
Look into the mirror,
Tell yourself to smile.
Start the day neatly –
Completely in control.
Greet the students
Every morning at the same time,
Repeat the same instructions:
Good morning, let’s begin,
Sharpen pencils, turn in homework,
Tun and talk to your partner,
Take out your writers’ notebook,
1,2,3, eyes on me.
Look out into the sea of faces,
Tell yourself to smile.
End the school day neatly-
Completely in control.
Later, at the grocery store,
Grab one of the shopping carts,
The one with the boogety-woogety wheel.
Race around the perimeter,
Where all the healthy foods live.
Get extra steps in –
Walk around twice before shopping.
Start at the produce section,
All the bins stacked neatly,
Arranged in a rainbow:
Apples, onions, melons,
Strawberries, blueberries, pears,
Mushrooms, avocados, celery.
Everything in its place
Except for the lone cantaloupe.
Someone sat the cantaloupe
Among the squat watermelons.
One beige ball among green striped strangers.
I gently cradle the cantaloupe in my hands,
Search through the aisle for his melon tribe
There they sit solemnly.
I place him with his brethren,
Back where he belongs,
Completely in control.
Back home, lights turned on
Brightening the darkness
Dinner made; dishes done.
The news turned on and off again,
Turn to my book – a good one
The one about gardening in France.
See the flowers blooming
In my mind’s eye:
Tulips, asters, marigolds.
Breath in their fragrance
Take it all in and smile.
Everything it its place
Completely in control.
Word Dancer-the images you present!
“One beige ball among green striped strangers.
I gently cradle the cantaloupe in my hands,
Search through the aisle for his melon tribe”
(And all was right with the world…)
Word Dancer, this place of order and helping our melon friends back to their tribes is one of comfort and peace – – knowing that things are as they should be….I love this part: Later, at the grocery store,
Grab one of the shopping carts,
The one with the boogety-woogety wheel
We are connected in this way. I always get the boogety-woogety wheel, too. What beautiful words you use for this wayward melon: tribe, brethren. I love that feeling that all is well in the universe once the melon is properly back in her bin.
Word Dancer,
Beautiful imagery in these self-contained stanz-ecdotes! Very cool.
Dare I try to capture the lines I loved most and not copy the whole poem?
(Wonder if the watermelons would like to share their thoughts!) ?
(Isn’t this the cart saved just for me at every single doggone store?)
(The magic of our minds while we read!)
Brilliant masterpiece, yet again!
Thank you so much. I am honored by your reflections.
Wow, I enjoyed this because I love order, organization and for things to be neat and in control. However we all know that that’s not how things always are. The visuals you painted were perfect and gorgeous and I could picture the manufactured tv classroom we often wish for. The grocery store however does look like that especially in the mornings. I love that you placed the one melon back in its place. I often wish our lives would stay as we want them.
Loved it…………….
Thank you for your kind reflection. Much appreciated.
Kim, I’ve never owned a squeaky duck, but I need to admit to you that I went through a phase with my friend Kaitlyn to learn how to compose an opus like Johann Pachelbel, equipped with rubber chickens. We were lousy students and and never graduated past annoying. Ah, Silke (she joked / and smiled / and laughed / but group rules / were no joke). This prompt was delicious, as was your poem. Alas, a quirky poem from me, too (with material I never imagined falling tot he page)
Confessions
~b.r.crandall
I sleep with Mary Elizabeth
(her name can only be said
with a Vincent Price voice.)
and I’m afraid to give her away –
head severed from body…
arms, legs, and eyes
all dolled up in
the butcher paper
she came in.
Friends
give the
best gifts.
It’s probably why
I kept toenail clippings
in jars to commence
high school graduation
for any child who had
abnormal foot fears –
a little wilder than Gene,
and more gob-stopped
than Veruca.
I learned as a boy
to swat flies dead
and to store them
like twisted raisins
& balled-up black string
in the mouths of ceramic frogs –
those anatomically
breasted and ding-donged
if placed upon their backs
(who wouldn’t want a rose garden
sculpted from Feen-a-Mint gum?).
It’s okay to be an apple
that didn’t roll far
from grandmother’s
willow tree.
So, when they place
a Danish wiener
under your pillow,
you get postage
and mail it to their home…
a nice welcome mat
upon their return.
I just happen to be drawn
to the roller skaters
who wear butterfly wings —-
the masked, caped crusaders
who twirl armpit hairs
as they dance
all alone
at prom
while reading
a book.
Brian, this right here:
I learned as a boy
to swat flies dead
and to store them
like twisted raisins
& balled-up black string
in the mouths of ceramic frogs –
This was the whipped cream with the cherry on top of all the rest of the deliciousness of your quirky poem today. What I love most is that you noted it was material you never expected to fall to the page. That’s what makes it such a rare and wonderful gem – it came out of hiding and made its presence known, proudly. I smiled and laughed all the way through this, thinking of the eccentric butterfly roller skaters twisting armpit hairs. This is the real stuff of life that you just can’t find in any of the best books. Bravo!
Goodness! All goodness! What a treat this was!
I’m trying to fathom how all this was hiding in you waiting to bless us on this page! Incredible. I will read your poem a few more times. I’m sure another gem will shine through.
????????
Love these laugh-out-images celebrating The Quirky in us all.
“It’s probably why
I kept toenail clippings
in jars to commence
high school graduation
for any child who had
abnormal foot fears –
a little wilder than Gene,
and more gob-stopped
than Veruca.”
–my favorite!
Bryan! This is a wonderful celebration of quirkiness, though I think it is also what set me to write my own sad poem. I once wrote a poem for a boy who never smiled. Of course the boy is long grown-up and the poem long forgotten…except that there was a line about toenails in a jar, or maybe it was a pot. Anyway, the poem made the boy laugh and I discovered that quirkiness is sometimes a cover for loneliness.
Your poems never cease to amaze me! I can’t stand frogs and are irritated by flies, so I don’t know why these lines resonated with me: “I learned as a boy
to swat flies dead
and to store them
like twisted raisins
& balled-up black string
in the mouths of ceramic frogs – “
I guess because of the vivid and colorful language. The flies being stored like twisted raisins…I like raisins, but will now be taking a break from them. So gross, yet so intriguing! Thank you for sharing…I guess, lol!
Bryan, this just kept on rolling into betterness. I love those masked crusaders twirling armpit hairs, dancing alone while reading a book – the height of quirky. Kim is spot on with your celebration of the real stuff that comes out of hiding.
Bryan, I’m glad we were here to catch this! From the “must use” Vincent Price voice for Mary Elizabeth, your bedmate, to the children “who had / abnormal foot fears” to the artistically placed dead flies to “the masked, caped crusaders / who twirl armpit hairs” this is a wild ride! A Tim-Burton-David-Lynch-Hieronymus-Bosch type of ride, and I’m here for it!
I felt so many emotions reading this, Bryan. Laughter and creepiness and feeling spoofed. The last bit:
“as they dance
all alone
at prom
while reading
a book”
broke my heart.
I love my handbags
The rotary phone, the cupcake,
the toaster with poptart coin purse,
the easy bake oven
They are like little lapdogs
Getting attention wherever I go
Traveling to New York City
We stopped in Deposit
Wendy’s on a slow day
Not a big fan of fast food
The cashier, maybe eighteen
Eyed my purse
Is that a phone? she asked
You can plug in the cord to a cell phone
And speak in the handset I replied
I paused…then
I handed my precious phone purse over the counter
Try it
She called her friend
The other cashier
They were squealing with laughter
I made their day
My frosty getting warmer
They made my day too
I know that Wendy’s … Deposited a few fast meals to and from my mom and dad’s in that space. Hmmm. Didn’t know I could call you….appears some travel with pursed lips. Brilliant. No handbags for me, but my life began with a frog backpack. The rest is history.
Jennifer, what is it about New York City that makes us want to pack the oddly unneccessary stuff of conversations and memories? (My daughter took a blue kazoo). The fun I have imagining this scene unfolding at the Wendy’s counter, squeals of delight over a melting Frosty……it’s just perfect randomness, like the items in your bag, these lapdogs that are show dogs to amuse and entertain. That poptart coin purse sounds like the stuff of dreams. I think I’m going to have to Amazon that and get one to keep my Q-tips in :). Thank you for the fun – – I love your quirky memory and that you shared it with us~
The bags are all Betsey Johnson. The poptart coin purse is attached to the toaster bag…
I closed my eyes and imagined this scene as you described it and it made my day, as well!
Amazing! I love this fun poem and it brought a huge smile to my face this morning.
Jennifer, your poem paints such a vivid and fun picture that I’m dying to see your purses. Loved this poem!
P.S. I just checked out the website…wow, wow, wow!
Oh wow Jennifer, this was very touching, not in a sentimental way, but in a magical way! A way where you have giddy kids who are trying new things and they get a kick of out the magic that just occurred! I could actually visualize this. These lines, the first sounding so apprehensive about giving up the phone purse, and the continuing ones telling a story, over the phone.
“I handed my precious phone purse over the counter
Try it
She called her friend
The other cashier
They were squealing with laughter
Squealing with laughter just reminds me that we are all still kids at heart. Thank you for sharing.
Can I just say, I have mad respect for this kind of collection! I would squeal with laughter too at the sight (and use!) of such a thing! A rotary phone purse? What a lark! Now I may have to look for one of my own. You tell your story with remarkable aplomb so that literally everyone’s day is made by reading it.
Years ago
at some
PD or other,
we were
going around
the circle
telling
about
what
ice
breakers
worked,
and one
of my
colleagues
said that
when
he was
taking
an intro level
painting class,
the instructor,
on the first day,
asked
the students
to take off
their shoes
and socks
and press
the soles
of their
feet
against
the
soles
of their
neighbor’s
feet.
And.
They.
Did.
(My
colleague,
thankfully,
had,
yet,
to try
that
particular
ice
breaker.)
_________________________________________________________
Kim, thank you for this fun poem! I really enjoyed all the duck imagery throughout: “then another pair / and quacked by fours” was my favorite!
Scott, ice breakers sure can pull out quirky from both sides. Whenever I play two truths and a lie I put: “I married my cousin” to throw people off…however, it was a truth because I officiated their wedding;)
Thank you for sharing today.
This is possibly the strangest ice-breaker ever!
Wow.I can envision the pairs of feet! That is definitely the strangest ice breaker I’ve ever heard.
Scott…thinking of Joni Mitchell this morning…”I remember that time you told me…love is touching souls….surely you touched mine.” Hmmm. I’m wondering if I’ll be able to pull off 210 middle school kids going sole to sole this afternoon. I’m inspired. Thank you.
Oh, wow! This makes me so glad that I got a pedicure yesterday, just the sheer thought of pressing my feet to the soles of another person’s feet is terrorizing. But quirky – – and that is what it’s all about! I’m laughing and covering my eyes and pressing my feet harder to the floor….. 🙂 Thanks for sharing today!
Scott, no way! I can’t even imagine someone thinking of pressing feet together as an icebreaker. I don’t have feet phobias but many do and I’m sure that would be hilarious to watch the reactions when hearing the directions. EEwww! LOL!
I appreciate this laugh and your poem! ?
Feet! Oh no! I’m glad that I am not alone in this quirk. Thanks for sharing this cringe-worthy icebreaker.
Quirky, for sure, and too funny! Thanks for this, Scott!
Scott, this is an ice breaker I would say nay to! But I love the way you told it. I’m not sure what does touching feet have to do with painting, but anyway. Unless it’s toe-painting and again…NAY! I’ve never heard anything stranger!
Scott,
I bet the room was smelly after that ice breaker, and I wonder about the socks folks wore. I think that’s one of those TMI ice breakers best left, well, on ice.
Here’s a prosy poem or a poemish prose about how I came to know, concretely not abstractly, what diversity really means, quirky content and quirky context:
Two students,
one from southern China
and the other from Armenia,
always walked me to my office
after our writing class.
We would share stories and tea
once we got there.
Sometimes I just gave them my office keys
and told them to open up
and make themselves at home.
We did that on this fateful day.
I walked back to my office
in the sub-basement of academe
expecting to see them there,
but before I got close
I could hear the full-throated
martial singing of male voices.
When I got to my open door
I saw
my two students,
one Armenian and one Chinese,
singing the Russian national anthem.
They grinned madly the whole time
they were singing
and when done high-fived each other
and me, too.
My question must have been written on my face:
How…?
They laughed.
My Chinese student lived on the coast at a mecca
for Russian tourists.
He said that he got better tips after he learned to sing
the Russian national anthem in Russian with drunken Russians.
My Armenian student on the other hand
could speak five languages and one of them was Russian.
He grew up hearing and singing the song.
They discovered this common knowledge that day.
I don’t know how, nor did they.
What did this mean to me?
I am always looking for concrete examples of abstraction.
I don’t understand words like “diversity” unless I find these ‘anchors’.
That word is tangible now, unlike the bullshit abstract academic speak that passes for clear speech these days
that ‘splains nada.
What else could have brought these two students together in Kentucky in my office on that day to sing. No one could have intended that. Only the power of an ideal could have done that and did do that. Only the larger idea of “the more, the merrier” applied on a global scale. We have all spun out like satellites in different orbits since that song-filled, heady day, but we all know what ‘diversity’ means now and, like a check valve, we will never go back to not understanding that.
This is a beautiful, moving story on so many levels—your trust, their friendship, and their commonality. WE need more of this these days!
This speaks to humanity and the celebration of everyone on different levels. That they walked with you and shared tea and stories with you is the stuff of really making a difference in the world by starting with the students right at your door. This is beautiful, and I can just imagine the students singing with pure heart. Thank you for sharing today!
Terry,
This poem honors a spectacular memory and reminds me how important it is for each of us to respect and honor other cultures. It’s a beautiful story, and I could not agree more w/ your statement that “That word is tangible now, unlike the bullshit abstract academic speak that passes for clear speech these days
that ‘splains nada.”
I appreciate your juxtaposition, Terry, of “I walked back to my office in the sub-basement of academe” and “one Armenian and one Chinese, singing the Russian national anthem. They grinned madly the whole time.” What a contrast between a dark, dank, tunneled view and these students having a blast finding a connection in a culture that doesn’t “belong” to either of them!
Oh, Kim . . . this is a great inspiration. It really caused me to stop and ponder on the culture or our family or my classroom and whether the things I do are indeed quirky. Of course they are!!
Reformation
When our kids used to bicker,
I would make them sit
in our big library chair
with arms around each other and
sing
“And they’ll know we are
Christians by our love, by our love,
yes, they’ll know we are Christians
by our love.”
They were giggling and smiling
by the second Christian
and still hugging past the time
I freed them.
As they grew older,
the chair thing wasn’t as appropriate,
but any time they were rude
or unkind or gossipy,
I would start singing,
“And they’ll know we are
Christians by our love, by our love,
yes, they’ll know we are Christians
by our love”
and their negative talk/actions
would stop.
In adult life,
each of them reports that a smile
bursts across their face
and their heart expands with warmth
any time the song plays at their churches.
A punishment that lasts a lifetime.
~Susan Ahlbrand
11 April 2022
Susan, your last line is great and I too was giggling as I thought about your kids laughing. Thank you for sharing this story through verse today.
“A punishment that lasts a lifetime”—great memory!
Susan, I can hear the song…..we used to sing it in youth group in the 1970s, and it still is a sort of same-level Kumbaya song for me. I love these images – and can imagine the laughter and smiles and memories that come to the forefront in the minds and hearts of your children whenever they hear the song. This is a beautiful quirky memory that is firmly rooted in Christian values (God does have such a sense of humor, doesn’t he?). He laughs with us, too, I know he does.
Kim, thank you for this prompt today and for sharing your fun, memory-filled poem. I love the twist and teacher connection at the end of your poem.
You’ll find them in my bag…
maybe it’s
witch
craftery
inhale it
sorcery
thieves oil
in your throat
diffuse them
valerian roots
run deep
but not a world of
JRR Tolkien or
GRR Martin
feel anxious about the
wizardry feel of it all…
mix neem with jojoba
spray the essential
oils of life for
amelioration
Ha, Stefani! I remember a teacher joking once that she wished we could put relaxing lavender through the air vents of the school to settle the kids down during spring break, and here is the reality of that possibility! A seeminly innocent diffuser that is doing the big, hard work of keeping students and their moods in check. I love that you call it witchcraftery and sorcery – – hey, it’s healthy magic, right??
OMGosh, my first vision upon reading this was Mary Poppins and her bag of tricks. I once remember my much-older sister going to her pantry to get different herbs to make tea – all those dried plants in jars – and I gasped and said outloud, “You’re a witch!” and she smiled and gave me the “Shhhh.” Ever since then, I’ve kept herbs as well. It is a kind of witchcraft and wizardry, isn’t it? I like how you mix the “directions” with the commentary, my favorite how you tie the name into the metaphor and literary connection here: valerian roots / run deep [that is so clever!] but not a world of / JRR Tolkien or / GRR Martin.” I had visions of Yggdrasil when I read that. Thank you for this lovely poem!
I love this, Kim! I don’t know that you meant for this prompt to bring about quirky travel stories, specifically, but that’s where my mind went immediately. So many funny stories!
Hurricane
His open, grinning face
welcomed us warmly to Athens–
he was a true oasis amidst the hustle
and hurry
of international travel.
Dimitri spoke little English,
but it mattered little.
He communicated through the universal
language of American music–
The Scorpions, specifically–
which he blasted, with great,
contagious glee, through the bus
speakers every chance he got,
much to the consternation of
our tour guide.
Julie, our connections through music are endless, I love how you’ve pulled this together in your poem. Greece has been on my bucket list for a long time. Thank you for sharing today.
I love quirky Dimitri and his love for American music that he blasted in the bus. Great story!
Julie, I’m so glad you shared a travel story! It’s fascinating how music draws us all together and transcends the language barriers that we encounter. Dimitri may have spoken “little English, but it mattered little…” because his heart was bigger than any language barrier! Thank you for sharing this touching memory.
Car Star
An alternative school.
One half of one percent
of our county’s students
who were
“unsuccessful in the traditional classroom”.
A euphemism, at best.
Some wore custom ankle bracelets,
courtesy of the local police.
Others were just…troubled.
It called for “unique” teachers.
Our classrooms
were at the end of a long hall.
Three middle school teachers,
in a larger, longer world
of high school classrooms.
Leftovers.
Afterthoughts—
literally and metaphorically.
The tail of a very troubled dog.
We came in the back entrance.
Appropriate, somehow.
Heather and I arrived early.
Coffee to start the day,
talk about the kids,
prepare for the oddness.
And then the STAR entered our lives.
A tacky gold cardboard star.
I found it in a junk box.
The start of greatness.
I got there first, that day,
taped it to my door
and our high-stakes duel began.
Whoever got there first took
the prime parking spot
and the STAR
on the door for the day.
A silent victory.
Competition was intense.
My morning goal was
to seize the space.
If I went to a meeting,
I could be sure that she
would shift her car into the “spot”,
claim the STAR, and gloat
for the rest of the day.
(That, I felt, was cheating.)
It went on for four years,
(Alternative schools
have few bragging rights)
Until I transferred
back to my home school.
Our own little daily Oscar
(Lacking the drama of the slap)
The irony?
The prime parking spot
was right next to the
dumpster…
GJSands
4-11-22
What a great story! Love all of it.
Gayle – This is poignant and then quirky-funny. I’m smitten by how honestly you portrayed how schools have relegated status (or lack of) based on a perceived value of the student. It’s heart breaking. As if students (and at middle school level to boot — these are our children!) were dregs in a wine glass. You bring a huge conscience to the images of what schools do with struggling human beings… though I do know the realities in kids with grim back stories. Your star and parking spot bring a marvelous spirit to this wonderful poem. Hats off to you two teachers… so much resilience and playful spirit. The ending irony… bam! Perfect!
Gayle, what a STAR of a quirky story. It drives at exactly the essence of how it’s the little things that make all the difference – the way a quirky idea is born, grows wings, and takes flight to take us to some lofty places in our days. The tail of the very troubled dog, the spots at the end of the hall, the leftovers, the place by the dumpster all were brightened by a gold star. But not really. That’s not really the truth. The truth, you see, is that all of this was brightened by the heart of a teacher who looked in a dark place and found light. YOU! You did that.
Gayle, I love this! The narrative kept me riveted and reading to the end…and I appreciated the irony of your “prized” parking spot! XD
Kim—your story-poem was wonderful. I wish I had thought of a squeaky duck for my field trips. What genius! Thanks for a fun-filled start to a Monday. “We were her ducks in a row”, “quacking by fours”. This woman is my idol!
Thanks for this inspiration, Kim. Very much enjoyed the chance to relive one of those awkward moments of online dating a long time ago. What’s worse about the exchange highlighted below is that I even pulled the text from the dating service to proof it before hitting “send.”
E-harmonizing the early twenty teens
Matched on hope and dreams
She loved music, mostly the same things
I loved.
Waxing a narrative on messages
I professed my love of corsages,
The plant family I was raising
And loved.
There was Ben, named after a friend
And Lila the lilac bush, second gen
“I love my plants,” I said.
She disappeared.
Messages were left unreturned
Whatever matched us, couldn’t overcome
The green team of house plants
I adored.
Your love of corsages….the plant family with Ben and Lila the second generation lilac bush….this is great stuff, Chris! I’m envisioning this little greenhouse with a laptop open to E-harmony and loving every minute! That green team – they are indeed a match to overcome! I wish I had a green thumb, but I didn’t inherit my grandmother’s and mothers. It skipped a generation and went straight to my oldest daughter. Thanks for sharing your fun memories today!
I imagined this scene as in a Hallmark movie. I’m guessing she did not return, as in the movies, to realize that she loved you for your quirkiness.
Let’s write the scrip. She’d have to return though after initially being a little fearful. Haha.
Alas. Perhaps she didn’t want such a patient nurturer?? Or was green with envy over your deep-rooted love of plants? Nevertheless, her loss on what could have bloomed… fantastic poem, structured and delivered just right. Those two-word endings at the end of each stanza are zingers – so effective.
These lines: “There was Ben, named after a friend/And Lila the lilac bush, second gen”
made me smile. She was not worthy of you. Her loss…
Chris, On a Monday, a quirky one at that, we learn more about a friend (which reminds me, I need water my plants). My favorite stanza:
There was Ben, named after a friend
And Lila the lilac bush, second gen
“I love my plants,” I said.
She disappeared.
Wonderful.
Aw, Chris — if she didn’t love your plants as much as you, she wasn’t worth it! Seriously, though, my favorite point in the poem was your simple two-line utterance after all of your active and lovely description:
“She disappeared.”
(For some reason, it reminded me of the sad finality of
“Nothing beside remains”
in Shelley’s “Ozymandias.”)
Cool poem!
I fell in love with the lightheartedness of this poem, and the educator’s constant gathering of ideas to use in the classroom, gleaned from the oddest places. I connected with getting students lined up, today:
(I know a library
is supposed to be
quiet, but)
“Students,
push in your
chairs
gather up your
books
and if you line up with
hallway expectations
in place,
I’ll play
the “30-Second
Dance Party”
(ever see a
librarian
bust a dance move
behind the
circ desk?)
The things we will do to motivate students to follow directions!
I confess that I have never seen that…..but it sounds like a TikTok opportunity waiting to happen! I would so line up quickly, quietly, and with hallway expectations in place to be able to see the librarian bust a dance move like that! These are the kids who, twenty years from now, will be writing quirky poems and begin….I went to the library one time, and this librarian.….Thanks for sharing this great idea to get kids lined up!
Oh my goodness, I just watched the video link……that guy dancing in the office……this is the reason for an awesome quirky poem. I needed this moment in my Monday~!! THANK YOU!!!!!
Kim, everyone needs a dance break now and then! You never know which song is up in the queue, which makes it more fun. Just enough to get the wiggles out before walking quietly in the hallway…or facing the next class to come in.
I would so love to see a video of this, Chris! I also love your parenthetical efficacy here.
…meaning: if YOU are dancing… 🙂
Fran, we all dance! Always interesting to see which kids let loose and which ones just watch. There are a few teachers who have great moves, too!
I love this!! I will bet that your students lined up post-haste for that!
Just went to the link. It’s wonderful!!!
Why, yes I have…my own. LOL. Great poem.
Haha–funny and a cute picture. (And I love your parenthetical asides.) Thanks for the morning chuckle!
Quirky often works! 30 second dance party sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime in the right context! I like the way you used parentheses to qualify your decision-making.
Christine,
I want to see the video for this “30-Second Dance Party.” Librarians these days are hip and run by cool people such as you who know how to “bust a move” to get books into students’ hands and hearts.
With all these video requests, I may have to do just that, Glenda.
Nope, just one book today. She says.
But I am insistent that there are more.
I can call interlibrary loan. She says.
Because I am certain there are more.
What are the titles? She asks.
But I am not certain of those.
Let us look in the back. She says.
So I take my stack of 13 to the table.
I read Forshe’s poetry of witness.
I read Krashen’s letters to teachers.
I read Salesses on creative writing.
I —
Professor? Um, were you here last week?
It seems you’ve checked out —
Sarah, it’s an incurable quirk. There is no remedy for the love of book stacks – I tell my husband all the time that my book habit is still cheaper than golf or sport fishing for the books I simply must own. I love your determination to stay the course in your quest of books- – But I am insistent that there are more. Because I am certain there are more. There are now three new books I must check out in your poem- – and I’m glad to know a new creative writing title (my favorite topic to read for inspiration). Thanks for the space you give us here to write – we are all better because of your generous gifts of leadership and space.
Checking out .. been there
Kevin
I love the use of conversation in this poem to set up the scene.
Ha! What a wonderful, and familiar, quirk. LOVE that book addiction is part of you too.
Sarah, BOOM! The last two lines in italics….superb….brilliant. Wonderfully executed. The marching bands on Mt. Pleasant are ready to lead this poem onto the streets to parade for others.
When my children were young, we lived for a time in a town that limited the number of books patrons could check out, and further limited how many we could check out on a given topic. Worst situation ever!
Kim, I knew by the telltale word “quirky” that you had to be today’s host; yesterday’s definito poem about Quirky, born to “the adjective family tree/wrapped upside down in a blanket different from all the rest” was a GEM. As is this poem today. Quirky, indeed, is this no-joke tour guide in Berlin, leading the group with a rubber duck (I wonder what on earth inspired this?) I love how you tell the story, see the metaphors, play with phrases (“quacked by fours”), and close with the vow to never do such quirky tricks…and then sneaking off to buy your own squeaky ducks. Fascinating and fun poem… thank you for the quirky inspiration today!
Quirky Legacy
What goes around
comes around
particularly in
prankster families
like mine
Once upon a time
my husband hid
our oldest’s shoe
The boy (in his teens)
hunted high and low
demanding to know
(laughing)
where his dad hid it
because he knew
exactly who
had done this
Funny thing is,
my husband forgot
where he stashed
the shoe
Years later,
in the midst
of redecorating,
I moved
an antique pitcher
and discovered
the shoe inside
By that time,
the boy had achieved
retribution
many times over,
the most legendary
of his pranks
involving
his dad’s cell phone
suspended in jello
(a Ziploc bag
didn’t help at all;
my husband hauled
the boy and
the ruined phone
to Verizon
for a replacement
while the clerks
tried but couldn’t keep
straight faces)
Years later
the boy
(now a dad)
texts me
while I’m out shopping:
Mom, can you pick up
a copy of Prince Caspian?
He was reading
the Narnia series
for the first time
and his daughter,
age six,
had hidden the book
from him
and couldn’t
remember where
What goes around
comes around
particularly in
prankster families
like mine
Fran, these are the stories I love – – a phone in jello!!?? A shoe in an antique pitcher…..Prince Caspian under wraps (somewhere, off on his own secret adventure)…. The pranks, the family legacies, the fun times that drive us nuts – – your poem preserves the memories and perpetuates the pranks and pranksters for future generations. Sounds like your granddaughter already has a strong stroke of playfulness! I absolutely can’t imagine the faces on the Verizon clerks (“we’ve seen it all now”)! Oh, the laughter!
Your family stories make me want to be a part of your quirky team. As the mom who probably had to take the kid out to buy new shoes, though, I may not have appreciated the jest.
Ha! Classic Fran poem…no matter the subject, no matter how quirky, we can always find LOVE!
Fran—my favorite part is the shoe that was lost for years! I am sure that the pranks will be carried on for generations. A lovely legacy!
Fran, The storytelling in this poem…the cyclical impishness….What a delight! Wola!
Fran, this was great! I laughed out loud at the finally-discovered shoe in the pitcher. And the jello story! lol.
Love the circular nature of the poem that left it feeling so satisfying in the end. Thanks for this!
Fran, this is an adventure of a prankster poem! We travel time, shenanigans, life circles, and apples falling near to trees. The jello story is hilarious (one would think the ziploc bag would keep it safe – those darn seals).
Fran,
I laughed when I read,
“I moved
an antique pitcher
and discovered
the shoe inside”
What a perfect, imperfect hiding place. But that phone memory illustrates how a joke can get out of hand. It’s all a balancing act, isn’t it?
A family legacy of hidden objects and pranks is a fun quirk to pass along to the next generation, Fran! What a fun poetic post of memories.
Sometimes
I just scattttttter
w
o
r d
s
like seeds – in hopes
they form
a poem
Sometimes,
they
do
do
do
do
do
|
|
|
— Kevin
Your scatterings take root to bloom in such profound ways. Kevin.
Kevin, I love how you made a shape poem with your word seeds that scattered and grew! The quirkiness of writers – – the funny things we do. I love how you played with this and used the phrase in hopes – – you remind us that while we pick what we know has grown, we are always scattering seeds for the next ideas to take root and sprout!
Clever response!
I love this! Great quirk!
“Great quirk” causes me to think about quirking – haha!
Kevin – They tumbled here in a delightful journey, taking root in the early morning. Dandy. Susie
Kevin….this is wonderful….I wrote a piece for English Journal that comes out this Fall and you poetically captured in few words…as a piece of art….fallen to the page. Gorgeous.
Thank you for using such creative form in your poetry today. I love how in just a few words, I feel so light and free.
Kevin,
Very cool. 🙂
Word scattering is such a cool thing. I love the shape of this too.
Now animate it with a musical score… Very clever!
Kim, I’m going to have to share your poem with my youngest today. He spent his 8th grade DC trip following an umbrella hoisted by “Mary Poppins.” Everything from your title to the secret rush to buy your own at the end was just the right blend of quirky (and I see your word from yesterday). Your prompt prompted me to search quirky words today.
Quirky
Unzymotic
Idiosyncratic
Razzmatazz
Keels
Yfere
Jennifer, confession: I had to look up “unzymotic” and “yfere”. I’m enchanted by their meanings. Thank you for broadening my fabulous, friendly horizons … also, I love an acrostic! I think the form is underused.
Jennifer, an acrostic with QUIRKY! Oh, how your creative mind works so early in the morning. I looked up your words – they make sense in a poetic order – offbeat, fantastic, unpredictable, razzle-dazzle center-support companion………..kind of like all of us when you put us together in a group! I would have loved following Mary Poppins around DC! What fun and what memories!
I think I was on that same trip decades ago! I was reminded of the lady with the umbrella on a DC trip in MY senior year. Wow. MP must be super old. 🙂
Jennifer – Cool! Your words had me scrambling to the dictionary and giggling at the “obsolete “ -ness of sage old words. You are genius in your wordsmithing! I love this poem.. quirky, maybe, but you and this poem are dear, my dear friend of the word.
Jennifer, thanks so much for introducing these to us, especially “yfere” — adding it to my “weird words” backpack for next year’s Creative Writing class!
Jennifer,
I’m retired, but you’re making me toggle over to the dictionary today! What a fantastic vocabulary lesson and clever response to the prompt.
I love quirky acrostic with quirky words! And such fun words!