We Rise

 I hit the gym floor...hard.

My knee burns, my wrist and palm ache

And in a split second, thoughts flash

Argh, it hurts!

Everyone sees me.

Why do I play?

A teammate pulls me up

…. Because I love the game.

Yeah.

        I rise and stand.

The team looks at me, concerned..

My eyes grin. (no mask can hide it)

        They smile back.

All of them know

They sent strength.

Blood pulses

I send them energy

They nod, message received.

To my opponent..

...I wink.

Yeah, I’m still here.

She blinks, confused.

No, girl, I’m not out.

Now, I’m in her head.

I rise stronger.

My head is in the game.

        My hands ready for the ball.

Heart beats fierce.

Connected

Heart of the team gives me power.

I transcend

What’s a bruise?

Nothing but a badge

Effort given.

Toes bounce

Legs move

Passes pop

Ball arcs for a basket

I rise,

because We Rise

and Play.

I Stand Tall

“Bloodied but unbowed"

I stand tall.

Pulling my limbs from the dark tendrils

that unceasingly try to drag me under,

I stand tall.

As Cool Hand Luke, not ready to lose,

I stand tall.

Against the wages of daily stress

With undaunted spirit

Proud of my humanness,

Of spirit,

I stand tall.

With a glint in the eye

And a curl on the lip,

I stand tall.

And, for those in my life,

Or in my memory,

That have shown me how,

I stand tall

Undaunted

His head spun and he fell

Unable to stand, memory lost

Serious injury and hospital

Becomes a reality check

That scares every teammate.

But we shall go forward, undaunted.

“One game at a time,” they say.

Comes with spirited “Good Lucks.”

We nod, smile and say “Thanks”

Yet this game is different

There’s more than a win or loss

But we shall go forward, undaunted.

So, as we ride the bus as a team

We shall joke, chat and strategize.

And our hearts will thrum eagerly.

as we hunger for the field,

Yet, cool, with nonchalance and a grin

We shall go forward, undaunted.

The Sound of Words

The sound of words being made

Started out scratching quill to parchment.

Sharp tip scrapping ink into scrolls

Scratching out the scrawl of ideas,

The scent of poems, the essence of humanity.

Gutenberg, with a pull and a spin

Banged large plates together to sound out

Like a bell the equality of books.

Bringing news to all, sharing knowledge,

And bellowing thoughts of revolution.

The key of a typewriter strikes. Whap!

Slapping metal into ribbon on to the page.

Words tattle and rattle from aching fingers

Cachunking a carriage with a whiz after a bell.

Words soft and hard speak stories of life.

With a whir and a hum, the power excels,

A silver ball bounces and bangs along.

Words form quickly with the dance of thought.

And with a shift of white and a shuffle back,

Words disappear, to be resurrected more clear.

Now, the words wink with the soft clicking

As fingers tap through the digital glow.

Printers whisper quietly, paper hisses into trays.

Though the flow of energy is hushed and subdued,

The sound of making words still thunders on.

May 2002

A Small Town Gathering of Heroes

A dark night, rainy, a hero came home.

A black car, long limo, carried him gently.

A flag of stars and stripes blanketed him.

The street was glossy, tires whispered prayers,

For many heroes preceded and followed.

Lights, red, white and blue, flashing quietly.

Troops ‘Ten-Hut’ as he passed with honor.

EMT, fire, state, and county colors rolled with

Fellowship, pride, and a teary eye.

Many people stand together, close and somber,

Connected in grief, love, and respect, as family,

A community of hugs and remembrance.

All about are sturdy, stoic faces of the men and women

Who protect, stand in harm’s way, go to danger, and serve,

And I say thank you to him, to them, to all.

She has Super Powers!

“She has super powers!”

“No, she don’t!” Hands reject.

“Yes.” Eyes flare. “She does.”

Hands scoff. “Prove it.”

Eyes shine bright. “Easy.”

She came in before school ever started.

Painted the classroom up real nice.

Made it bright. Made it clean and safe.

On the gray, rainy days she smiles and hugs.

We forget about the outside and learn

As she leads us book explorations.

We stood on chairs when we read our poems.

Something about a different way to look at things

And sounding our voice over the roofs.

Plus, this is funny, she and others danced on stage.

It was pretty good for a woman her age

And we laughed together, the whole room.

“She sounds a bit crazy.” Hands taps the table.

Eyes roll with a grin. “Most teachers are.”

“But still no super powers,” Hands, palms out.

Eyes proud. “She changed my world.”

A Dusty Old Valentine

I found a dusty old Valentine
Shoved back into a desk drawer.
It was one I bought for you
Then misplaced sometime of yore.

It had hearts and flowers
And curly letters delicate and red,
“You are my heart and soul,
Be mine, now and forever,” it said.

Fifteen years are only a few years
As husband and wife then family
Add three; meeting, knowing and falling
We have barely scratched at eternity.

The dusty old Valentine and all the yesterdays,
Like today, with tomorrow, holds with a smile
Your blue eyes showing, day after day,
Me with you and your love all the while.

I Give You G

I went and said Good-bye to you today.

Family and friends spoke of you.

A lot of Good words were shared,

Me, a man of words, however,

     was at a loss. I had no words to Give.

What is there that can be said?

All I have David, is a letter,

    that letter, which leads to the words, is G

I give you the letter G

    as in Ginger,

with your red head crazy, curly ‘fro.

   Course, you said, “mistaken for Ginger” when actually “Gangster.”

   Yet, the only crime I heard was stealing your sister’s hair Gel.

I give you the letter G

    as in Gentleman.

You were polite and courteous

   to my wife and Good to my kids;

    a friendly, Genuine, sturdy, all around nice Guy.

I give you the letter G

    as in Good and Great;

    A Good man; heart, body and soul.

    A Great brother, son, friend and co-worker.

I give you the letter G

    as in Goofy;

    Sucking up peanut m & m’s off the counter,

    special eye-brow trimming and TheFlyboi123 monologues

    on You-tube; witty, clever and hilarious.

And I give you the letter G

   as in Grin

     Your signature smile, from ear to ear, oh so Genuine,

     and, like you, big and bold and beautiful.

     Well...no, as said by sis, “Gorgeous.”

    

Yeah, David, G is your letter,

     and that Genuine, Goofy, “Gangster”

      (actually Gentleman though),

      Gorgeous, Grin is your Gift to us all.

Although it is only a letter,

I give you G.

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.

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.