Wednesday, September 26, 2018

I am Sura!

Some days I stand in the hallway during passing time shouting lines from Shakespeare. Students grin, shake their heads, or hurry by. “It’s the weird guy.” The hallway is my stage.
Some days I stand in the hallway spewing forth a lecture with dramatic emphasis about the “Quest for Knowledge.” Students frown and hurry because they are late for class. The hallway is my soapbox.
Some days I stand in the hallway off to the side and listen to the tears, the anger, and the frustration of being a teen. Students respect the privacy and give clearance. The hallway is my office.
Some days I stand in the hallway, arms folded, watching for dropping trash, spilling books and bullies. I will swoop in on a jammed locker. The hallway is my territory.
Some days I stand in the hallway, leaning against the wall, greeting and smiling, joshing and joking. Students quip back or swing in for a quick chat. The hallway is my front porch.
Some days I stand in the hallway celebrating with high fives, hugs and dances over a good grade, a triumphant moment or a return of a former student. The hallway is my banquet room.
Some days I stand in the hallway when it is empty and quiet missing the mutter of students, slamming of lockers and the exuberance of youth. The hallway is my sanctuary.
Some days I stand in the hallway looking for a version of me; small and timid, wide-eyed looking for a place to be. The hallway is my reflection.
I am Sura. The hallway is my domain. It may be just a few square feet, but here I stand as a hero, as a teacher, as a man. The hallway is me.

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

Well Noted

The leader of the band
Plays his farewell concert.
Many instruments directed.
Millions of notes played.

Do not play sad chords;
His music is not done.
Many students learned;
His song plays on

Kids learned passion
to dance and play in notes,
To feel the bass,
Love the rhythm.

Through the melody,
Life lesson learned.
Music touches the soul,
And he touched the heart.

So, Strike up the band
And play a joyful tune.
We celebrate today
The Crescendo of career

Play loud and strong
As he did in class.
Forever music plays
For this well noted man.

Wednesday, August 8, 2018

Wild Flower

Good things come in small packages
so doth the saying go.
Somewhat appropriate, yet lacking depth,
don’t you know
when speaking of a black diamond girl
of five foot or so.
She races, dances, and speaks as if someone
hit the nitro.
Hair all a tumble, eyes of sparkle bright
is this little dynamo.
Energy and attitude tumble together;
her aura, electric rainbow.
Tender soul and fierce heart with lightning
they did sew
creating a lively, wild and beautiful flower
to erupt and grow.

Friday, August 3, 2018


A shoulder,
A hug.

A moment,
A joy.

A push,
A cheer.

A teammate
A guard.

A confidant,
An ally.

The best

A friend.

Tuesday, July 31, 2018


Our lives get interwoven
Into many different stories.
We are a page or two to some
Or a chapter in another’s.

Many tales make us who we are;
Some pages tear stained,
Some wrinkled with laughter,
All gilded in gold.

On days like today,
Two lives blend together
Into a promise of many pages
That will yield a novel.

The words written forward
From this promise till eternity
Tell boldly, the unique drama
Of loving and living, happily together.


The foundation is made of
One part love, one part trust
And two parts of each other.
Mix well.

Walls are built with sturdy planks
Of  kindness and faith
For they insulate against the storms.

The roof is caring
Shingled with determination
Nailed down with a promise.

Windows and doors are needed.
The more the better.
A well lit open-air floor plan
Keeps it fresh and clean.

And a fire place is built
To keep the passion aflame
For this will warm the house

Dreams must be wired throughout
and be kept up to code,
So the house will provide
the energy to be and do.

The decor is made of many things collected.
Laughs and smiles, tears and heartaches,
Hugs, jokes, prayers, and kisses
Add the right touch.
While quiet moments and cleansing words
Sweep away any dormant dust.

No, there is not any blueprint to look upon
There’s only a stockyard of supplies
From family, friends and God above.
The work and the comfort
Are to the husband and wife
To build and nurture a happy life.

Sunday, July 29, 2018


Digital images
of artificial worlds,
perfect people,
and white teeth

Serious faces
spew grim realities
of a world
of gray.

Allies say
it’s “them.”
We need to rebel
against rules.

Many individuals
collaborate against
the trend,
“Do it our way.”

Uncertain thoughts
within your head
What is right, wrong?
What is.

with hammers
on the soul
until weak.
Hope is depleted,

To the core
of being
where life sparks
and surges.

to the dense
Essence that
will not just

yet not failing.
Clawing back
to see and

on the surface.
Strong inside,


Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Jump in the Lake

A cool day in July,
Breezy, bright, and bold.
A Great Lake ahead,
Michigan, waves inviting.

A young woman,
scars on her body, stands
A warrior, battles fought,
Freedom reborn in the water.

A jump in the lake,
Victory washes in waves.
An act of simple joy
is her celebration of life.

Sunday, July 1, 2018

From the Heart

To sing well, she taught, “From the diaphragm.”
Let the air fill your lungs and resonate from there.
To sing, she instructed, “Open and project.”
One should hear clear crisp words of the song.
Yet, in my opinion, with a warm, patient smile,
And a glint in her eye, she said, “Sing from the heart.”

Many young voices, whether solo or quartet,
Duet or choir, learned from her skill and knowledge.
And as they stood on stage, group or alone.
She accompanied them with her piano and grace.
She sent them courage through the keys and direction.
Passion to sing, that was sent straight from the heart.

Now, with many years in and many songs sung,
Many lives impacted and many dreams chased,
The lights dim on a stage and notes softly echo
A promise that her melody will always live on.
Her music career is a crescendo of voices that sing,
Like her, with life, with love, in harmony, from the heart.

Thursday, June 7, 2018

My Princess

At three, she danced in the hall, ribbons and frills.
At six, she wore a lion costume and carried a lightsaber.
At twelve, she tackled and bumped on the soccer field.
At eighteen she, well….

No, not the woe is me, sigh melodrama role
More of the strong minded, Golde in town
Or the passionate Mrs. Darbus on stage.

No, not one to sit dreamily in a tower.
More of a get into a plane, start the engine,
And fly around the world with a grin.

No, not one to write sappy notes of castles.
More of a sassy verbal quip, speak your mind,
Fill in the hole and make a park kind of girl.

No, not one to sleep waiting for prince.
More of a “Someone got to save our skins.
Into the garbage chute flyboy.”

            ….well, she is that lion who roars.
She is the Jedi that fights with bright eyes.
She is that risk taker, that fighter, that warrior.

And, yeah, she is everything. She is my princess.