Big Tent Poetry: Wordle

Here are the words we are challenged to use.  I managed just a few.



My husband is awake.
I can hear the water running
in the bathroom

and the radio blaring.
I might have time
to write this poem.

I'm sitting in the lush,
early morning sun
as it is forklifted

from behind the mountain
on this our last Thanksgiving
in the cold north.

Soon I'll cook apple maple
chicken sausage, poached eggs,
and toast 7 grain sprouted-

wheat Ezekiel bread. I'll
smother it all with hollandaise
sauce. We'll sit cupped

in the palm of this day. I
hear footsteps on the stairs
and my poem is done.

Cascade Poem for Big Tent Poetry

In a cascade poem, the lines in the first stanza are repeated as the last lines of the subsequent stanzas.

I wrote this poem yesterday during my British Literature class.  The students were taking a quiz so I sat on my raised chair behind my podium, turned my seating chart over, and wrote this poem on it.
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A Few Quiet Moments

Outside my classroom window
trees are shivering.
Inside, students are bent
over their quizzes.

I can see their thoughts
swirling around their heads
like the invisible air
outside my classroom window.

Some kids chew their pens.
One has her glasses on her head.
Others are staring into space.
Trees are shivering

like the first students to finish,
all restless, looking around,
doodling, making eyes at each other.
Inside, students are bent.

Yes they are crazy as hell
but I love ‘em. Finished,
they switch papers and we go
over their quizzes.

3WW: Abrupt, Kernel, Wield

My school day
is filled with
kernels of
delight.

We’re reading
The Kite Runner.
I’m trying to elicit
the idea

that the young boy
must learn how to trust,
again, after being
abused.

“What does Sohrab
now have to do?”
Faces crunch
in thought.

Abruptly, a head
pops up, eyes,
shining like little
Christmas lights,

meet mine. “Take
a poop?” Teachers
wield power
over students

but, sometimes,
students wield
joy over their
teachers.