Poetry

More Student Poetry

~ Claire Pridgeon ~ 5 Comments

I had planned on posting more poetry about six weeks ago, but school ending and other stuff kind of got in the way. Hope these still bring a smile or a good memory.

The Beautiful Ocean

by James

I stand frozen like a statue

admiring the beauty of the lapping waves.

She slowly moves back and forth

like a butterfly gracefully flying.

She acts like a mirror

reflecting everything in sight.

As I slowly walk away

she says goodbye

in a soft voice.

***

What Am I?

by Unique

I slowly creep through the grass

I cannot move fast

I am like a worm

crawling on a leaf.

I tell stories to kids in the sea

about what good adults they will be.

I won against the hare

because I took my time.

He thought he would win

because his legs are faster than mine.

I may look young, but

trust me, I am old.

I am talked about horribly in this world.

You should check the things you say,

because you will also be old and slow one day.

***

Lost Mother

by Jonathan

The wind blew,

moving my hair around.

I closed my eyes

and heard her whisper my name.

She held me as her own

while I rested in the grass.

I remembered the love in her voice

as I drifted to sleep.

When I awoke, I reached out

but could not find her.

My eyes teared up

as I remembered her.

***

School is out and I have now retired. Twenty-nine years is enough, I have decided. I plan to do some writing of my own, but I sure enjoyed teaching these talented students. They will always be a part of my heart.

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Student Poetry (I’m proud of them)

~ Claire Pridgeon ~ 4 Comments

As the school year ends, I want to share some of the great works of my seventh grade students. They wrote poems about their interests with attention to figurative language and sensory details. Enjoy!

At the Beach

by Brianna

Under the radiant sun all day

my family and I sat and played.

We splashed and scared the fish

as small as fleas.

The water, a beautiful clear blue,

refreshed on this exciting day.

As time went by, we sat together

and let the ocean speak to us

in the pink light of the setting sun.

***

The Best Day

by Latavia

It was a beautiful day.

The sun was beginning to seep

through the lightly shaded clouds.

Then I rounded third base

my heart racing, as fast

as a fox, I slid home.

There was a long silence …

and then the ump shouted,

“SAFE!”

The crowd erupted like

a thousand horns in my ear.

My smile was too big to control.

My uniform was covered in soft dirt.

It was the best, most beautiful,

just-the-right-temperature day.

***

The Beach

by Elisa

As the sun arose across the way

the water waved to me today.

I lay down in the sand,

eyes straight at the sun.

I covered my eyes while humming along

with the seagulls singing their own song.

***

Fishing

by Taylor

I went out into the wilderness

with my boat, hoping

to catch a fish or two.

I cast my bait onto the

cool, blue surface

and lay in wait.

The sweet cicadas

sang their song

all around me.

And I will remember

this day as I walk toward

home with my bass of gold

and a smile.

Thank you for reading our work…

More next week!

Hold On…

~ Claire Pridgeon ~ Leave a comment

Grapevine dead

One day, during the aftermath

of winter

you noticed the vine and said

“I wish I’d taken better care of you,

when the cold wind blew

and the freeze took your life.

You look how I feel.”

But then, spring came.

You noticed something new.

Grapevine bud

What you thought

was gone for good

because you could not see,

was just waiting

for the right time

and the right circumstance

to come bursting forth.

Life!

Beautiful and tender,

and growing.

Transforming

~ Claire Pridgeon ~ Leave a comment
Photo credit: philipschwarzphotography.wordpress.com
Photo credit: philipschwarzphotography.wordpress.com

You were enjoying life,
Doing what you do,
Moving along,
When
Suddenly
Everything just stopped.
Life as you knew it
Changed.

This was not your choice
You didn’t want this.
It’s uncomfortable
and sometimes dark.
You take one day at a time.

You’ve turned into mush.
In fact,
The thin wall around you
Is all that’s holding you together.
The world that was,
Is getting dimmer.
A new normal persists
And tries to take over.
The future beckons you
Forward.

A framework begins to take shape,
The Creator’s hint of a plan.
It was there all the time.
You rest in Him
Realizing His plan is perfect.

At the right time,
when all is in place,
You will emerge
From this covering,
A new creature.
Stronger than the one
Who entered the cocoon,
You will be mature and capable
Of flying.

He Taught Us a Thing or Two, Pt. 3

~ Claire Pridgeon ~ 2 Comments

Part 3 : About Romance

Frank was a practical romantic. He had this idea that people should make sure their spouses know they are loved. He thought in order to do that one has to discover what is important to the person and do that for them.

Because I agreed with him and since I knew culinary variety was one thing important to him, I prepared meals accordingly. Being the Daniel Boone type of guy, he loved wild game. He taught me how to cook it correctly. With wild turkey, he always wanted me to “fry the breast and stew the rest.” Venison would be packaged to be fried, stewed, or ground.  Frank enjoyed stuff peppers, especially with ground venison.

Stuffed peppers

Leftovers brought a frown to his face, unless I could change it up a bit. I can be creative. Cold fried venison would  turn into smother-fried venison over rice. He also loved spicy food and added hot sauce to almost any dish. (I think his throat was seared because he could drink hot sauce right out of the bottle.) When I made chili, his was cooked in a separate pot because he was the only one who could eat it. Yes, food was important to him and so I romanced him that way.

Frank knew that words are important to me, so instead of just sending roses or a bouquet of other beautiful flowers, he found a poem on the Internet that spoke his heart, snapped a photo of it and sent it to the florist to transcribe onto the card that went with the flowers. ( Our florist is wonderful.) He did this several times a year.

Single red rose

The flowers were great, but the poem… Always beautiful because I knew he really meant what it said. I kept the little cards with the poems in my purse so that if I was having a rough day I could take one out, read it, and know that no matter what, I was loved. That kind of put things in perspective.

I’ve heard stories of young men Frank worked around receiving these lessons on romance and actually using it in their own marriage, with great results. One might comment about forgetting her birthday or their anniversary, and Frank would teach him that that was close to being a cardinal sin. He even taught him to find out what her favorite flower was and send her a bouquet of those. With a poem, of course.

The poem Frank sent with the roses on our anniversary is one of my favorites:

Today we celebrate
The joining of our hearts.
We were meant for each other
Right from the start.
We were destined to be together
And never to part.
You are my friend, my lover,
And the keeper of my heart.

The song “Waitin’ on a Woman” by Brad Paisley and Andy Griffith was special to us. (It is more true about us than I’d like to admit.) When we saw the video on TV, he told me that one day he’d find that white bench. I thought he was just being his usual romantic self, so I kissed his face and told him if that did happen he could know one thing for sure, I’d be along sometime. He wouldn’t wait in vain.

I am so looking forward to spending eternity with you, Frank.
You are my friend, my lover, and the keeper of my heart.

 

From Darkness to Light

~ Claire Pridgeon ~ Leave a comment

Washington Natl. Cathedral

When all seems dark

and monochrome,

Because you know

he’s not coming home.

You look t’ward the church

with its strong architecture,

Looks dead and dark,

but that’s just a conjecture.

Every spire points one way

revealing Who turns night to day.

Follow the cue and receive the Light

He who lives, conquered the night.

Believe in Him and your hope is renewed.

Look t’ward Heaven with a new attitude.

You will see him again.

You will see him again.

Death is overcome by victorious Life,

Darkness rolled back by glorious Light.

Hope is renewed.

My hope is renewed.

I will see him again.

 

You are AWESOME!

~ Claire Pridgeon ~ 2 Comments

You are Awesome!
I know it!
You know it!
Now, let’s prove it to the world.

I haven’t met
my students yet.
So how do I know
they are awesome?

Because each one is made
in the image of God, and
Each one has something
to offer our world.

Who will figure out the next agricultural miracle,
So that famines are unheard of?
Who will uncover the mysteries of the past
to solve the problems of today?

Who will discover the cure for cancer?
Or lupus? Or diabetes?
Who will determine how to eradicate mental disorders
like depression and others we can’t pronounce?

By the grace of God, someone will.
No, not now.
Later,
when they have matured.

After I and many others
have nurtured and taught them
how to think
deeply and critically,

And taught them not to give up
when the task is difficult,
But to plow through,
and find the answers.

Yes, I am convinced.
By Gods grace,
someone will
find the answers.

And I may be seeing them next Monday.
With eyes full of wonder.
Not theirs… mine.
Monday, the first day of school.

This Teacher’s Prayer

~ Claire Pridgeon ~ Leave a comment

Lord,

As we begin a new school year,
Remind me that You placed me here.

Let me be who You want me to be,
And You in me, my students see.

Let me be light in the dark for some,
For those too serious, let me be fun.

For those who are different, let them see,
That being different is an opportunity

To show the world divergent views,
And maybe the cure for cancer, too.

Help me to make what’s learned in class,
Life-long lessons, ones that last.

And when the year’s over, finals declared.
Let them remember that this teacher cared.

Son of the Kenai

~ Claire Pridgeon ~ Leave a comment

Son of the Kenai
Why do you wait,
Watching the children
Of the Lower Forty-eight?

The storm clouds hang heavy
In the afternoon sky.
If it were a clear day
Would you give it a try?

Is the thirty-two degree water
Maybe holding you back?
Or are there too many already
Fishing along the bank?

No?

Oh.

Many are fishing,
Few are catching.
The reds have not arrived.
The time is not right.

When the sockeye red
Breaches the Kenai’s surface
Because there is
No room below it
In the moving sardine can
Between the banks,
And the rapid flow
Of the run and the river
And instinct
Keep it going.

This Son of the Kenai
Will step into the fray,
Gather his catch
In under three minutes,
And go home.