Not Finished Fighting

The warrior sat. Curled. Fragile.

Wrapped in blankets and headdress.

Gaunt from the long siege. Cold in recovery.

The warrior stood. Straight. Thin.

Draped in small victories and defiance.

Weary from battle. Ravaged in body.

The warrior moved to the fire. Slowly. Smiling.

Swathed in warmth and peace.

Vigor from vulnerability. Sword in hand.

She shook off the chill of the morning

and the emotional chasm of the chemo,

To her afflicted bosom, clutched the moment

and lived in it. For herself. For her boys.

Because you cannot leave behind

that which you refuse to let go.

© Jeff Wilson, 2012

 

Extended Meta-Two

Two poems from 5-10 minute extended metaphor exercises in the 8th grade Cre8iveWriting elective:

I Don't Do Dishes

I have been used by you time and again

Moistened by your tears, rolled up and then

Wiped across your life and smeared

With your selfishness. To others, I appeared

Sullied and wrung out, yet of my devotion you’d brag.

Fold me gently. Smooth my corners.

But, I feel like a limp dishrag.

Life On Track 

I am a train barreling down the track

Without reverse, no going back.

Occasionally slowing to feed its tanks,

Then regaining speed to rejoin the ranks

Of similar engines unable to turn,

No matter the fuel - just burn, baby, burn.

Fated to rocket down pre-determined path,

Unaltered by ecstacy, depression, or wrath.

Passengers hopping my cars as I pass

Some riding coach, others first-class,

Some left at the station, some attended with care,
All of them part of the ticketed fare.
Straight down the track to some final reward -
Enjoy the scenery. All aboard!

© Jeff Wilson, 2012

The Waning of the Year

Another year winds down...

The waning of the year with its

Deciduous roadside fireworks

Reds, yellows, and oranges swallow

The last gasp of warmth until Spring.

The waning of the year with its

Denizens bundled up in layers

Or layered in bundles packed on

to survive a seasonal slumbering.

The waning of the year with its

Projects and tests that mark not an end -

merely a mid-term. Hours of study

To ensure that Autumn is no Fall.

The waning of the year with its

Tossing of leather and clashing of flesh

Collisions of will bearing moments of glory

And weekends spent hoarse in its thrall.

The waning of the year with its

Festive gathering. Delights on the table

and on the faces of elders whose progeny

have returned cheerfully without tether.

The waning of the year awash with

Thankful hearts and generous spirit,

Dreams of another as prosperous as this

And the good fortune to share it together.

© Jeff Wilson, 2011

Clocks

In response to a 12th grader's request for free verse...

The clock jerks forward, second by second
A consistent circle of certainty spinning
and going nowhere and forward at once
Pushing me, unwilling, toward a finish line
- I cannot last and must inch, second by second,
toward that line of flowing gowns and
squared caps that marks the end
and beginning
A consistent circle of uncertainty spinning
and going nowhere and forward at once
Pushing me, willing, into inner space
- I cannot last and must inch, second by second,
away from playing in dress up gowns and
ball caps that mark a simpler time
both eschewed and desired

Wilson, 2011

Destiny Unread

A peripheral poem based on a short story I'm working on.

Fate laid out before me like some map of destiny
Pages of which roads to take detailed with clarity
A chance to know my future, to know what lies ahead
To live a life advantaged, all of my problems shed

To do so means to give up all manner of free will
And take my cues from unseen hands, paper, and a quill
My hands reach out for the tome, I hear my inner voice
Better make a good one, this may be my last choice

© Jeff Wilson, 2011

End of Year 2011

ymissou all e
one last wuzzle and a poem of parting to the class of 2017

About this time, every year,
when the summer starts to sing,
I reflect upon the year that was
and write a wee something.

I sort the mem’ries of our past
and take time to look ahead;
I offer a tidbit of advice
and put the year to bed.

This year’s a little diff’rent,
it’s my last at ol’ U School.
While you’re swimming this July
I’ll dive in a new job pool.

Before I trade my winter coat
for flip flops and a tan,
I’ll leave you with some musings.
Heed them if you can.

This year has been a pleasure.
You’re a class full of potential.
The kindness you show schoolmates
going forward is essential.

Respecting one another
is expectation number one.
Just attend the simple slogan,
“Don’t start none, won’t be none.”

We trust that you’ll be true
to the traditions we hold dear,
and uphold the tenet of honesty
in each successive year.

And truly, in all fairness,
you’ve shown you have desire.
Now you have but only to
keep raising the bar higher.

Stay focused on your goals,
Give yourselves ev-er-y chance,
Take advantage of the promise
your school pledges to advance.

Understand the awesome scope
of your parents’ sacrifice.
Education of this quality
is not without a price

And it isn’t just the money...
It’s the toil and the sweat.
Theirs – apparent now.
Yours – is coming yet.

Summer vacation starts today,
time to refresh, relax, and rest;
and, revel in the knowledge
that you’ve aced the 6th grade test.

Now 7th grade awaits you
with its challenges anew.
Organize, prioritize…
There’s nothing you can’t do.

We’ve had some comic moments.
We’ve laughed a lot…and learned.
I’m proud of your accomplishments
and everything you’ve earned.

I’ll miss you, every one of you;
Part of my last, best class.
You’re a walking Packer metaphor -
when it's crunch time: You Pass!

You’re done with 6th grade Literature
And from what I’ve seen, you’re Winning!
Our time together is at an end
But your future’s just beginning.

Practice your grammar: “may” not “can”.
Remember to quench your thirst.
In real time you’re my last class;
But in my heart, you’re first.

“Mr. Wilson - you’ve just
completed your USM career.
What’re you gonna do now?”
“I’m goin’ to DisneyWorld!”
No. Really. I am going to DisneyWorld. Like...soon.
(missin’ you already)

© Mr. Wilson, 2011

A Place Like This

To everyone who helped make Phase II a reality,
from the donors to administrators to planners
From the construction crew to custodial staff,
anyone who helped…in any manner…

It may have started for you in a place like this
Where someone inspired you to reach higher
Or a teacher encouraged an ember in you
That, when nurtured, ignited your fire.
Your passion to plan, to create, to build
From nothing you’ve produced what surrounds us.
More than brick walls and carpeted floors,
A place to explore what confounds us.
It astounds us the way that you went about your work
Completing this task on time.
Making the best use of your every resource –
Each material, each man-hour, each dime.
From the architects who brought the vision to bear
To the laborer with shovel and nail,
You’ve captured the imagination of an entire school,
Brought it to life in vivid detail.
You weren’t alone; none of us are in our creative tasks
There was help from University School crew
Who moved two whole schools with coordinated aplomb
They’re that good. Hey, that’s just what they do.
And we’re here today, in these halls that you’ve built
To thank you all for delivering on your promise,
Giving us somewhere to be inspired to reach higher.
It may have started for you in a place like this,
And because of your hard work, in one form or another,
You’ve helped build a place like no other.
We thank you for your hard work, in one form or another,
For building this, a place like no other.

© 2010, Jeff Wilson