Poems Written in Class

[Rhonda Hollingsworth]

Traded It

A Jenny Lyn crib

with brown bars to keep my baby girl safe

Traded it for

A silver gym set

With monkey bars and a long silver slide to let the wild child out

Traded it for

A dirt bike

to  ride on the dirt trails behind our house

Traded it for

A five-speed, cherry- apple red Eclipse

so she could drive herself to high school

Traded it for 

A room on a college campus

and life with people I didn't know

Traded it for

An independent woman

who travels to China to work with orphans

And I wouldn't trade that....

for anything

[Barry Lane]

Love the inevitable rhythm of this poem, Rhonda. We all trade in everything one day too. Thanks for starting this discussion group , too.

[Zoan Stokes]

WHY?

Why do people stare?
Why does everyone think that it is supposed to be straight?
Why so I have to where a wig to get that job?
Why can't I just be who I am?
Why is my style not as fly as yours?
What makes it OK?
What makes you you and me me?
Why is it not OK to be out of the norm?
What is normal?
Does my hair define me?
Why can't I be me and love who I be?

[Barry Lane]

This is a new form. Lets call it a question poem.

Zoan Stokes said:

WHY?

Why do people stare?
Why does everyone think that it is supposed to be straight?
Why so I have to where a wig to get that job?
Why can't I just be who I am?
Why is my style not as fly as yours?
What makes it OK?
What makes you you and me me?
Why is it not OK to be out of the norm?
What is normal?
Does my hair define me?
Why can't I be me and love who I be?

[Sherry Beaman]

Alzheimer’s stole my Grandmother but Not my Memories
Alzheimer’s gave her tacky, bleached-blonde hair,
but it’s the June Cleaver, not-a-hair-out-of-place black that I see.
Alzheimer’s placed every ring and necklace she owned around her fingers and neck in a gaudy jumble,
but I see classy, matching sets in beautiful simplicity.
Alzheimer’s pushed Memaw into a wheelchair,
but I can still see her standing at the kitchen counter cutting vegetables into tiny bits of colorful confetti for a salad I’ve never been able to duplicate.
Alzheimer’s covered her face with confusion and surliness,
but I see a sweet smile for all she met.
Alzheimer’s stole my grandmother,
but only until I see her again.
Sherry Beaman

[Zoan Stokes]

Lane's Cafe

I came hungry for the knowledge of writing.

I ate all that Berry put in front of me. There was 5 C appetizers, M.I.S. for the main course, and T.S.C. for dessert.

Now I leave stuffed as a pig. A writer teaching writing.

[Rhonda Hollingsworth]

Sherry, your poem holds pain and beauty and speaks to my heart.

Sherry Beaman said:

Alzheimer’s stole my Grandmother but Not my Memories
Alzheimer’s gave her tacky, bleached-blonde hair,
but it’s the June Cleaver, not-a-hair-out-of-place black that I see.
Alzheimer’s placed every ring and necklace she owned around her fingers and neck in a gaudy jumble,
but I see classy, matching sets in beautiful simplicity.
Alzheimer’s pushed Memaw into a wheelchair,
but I can still see her standing at the kitchen counter cutting vegetables into tiny bits of colorful confetti for a salad I’ve never been able to duplicate.
Alzheimer’s covered her face with confusion and surliness,
but I see a sweet smile for all she met.
Alzheimer’s stole my grandmother,
but only until I see her again.
Sherry Beaman

[Manuel Garces Jr.]

I'm crying right now. I feel this so much.

Sherry Beaman said:

Alzheimer’s stole my Grandmother but Not my Memories
Alzheimer’s gave her tacky, bleached-blonde hair,
but it’s the June Cleaver, not-a-hair-out-of-place black that I see.
Alzheimer’s placed every ring and necklace she owned around her fingers and neck in a gaudy jumble,
but I see classy, matching sets in beautiful simplicity.
Alzheimer’s pushed Memaw into a wheelchair,
but I can still see her standing at the kitchen counter cutting vegetables into tiny bits of colorful confetti for a salad I’ve never been able to duplicate.
Alzheimer’s covered her face with confusion and surliness,
but I see a sweet smile for all she met.
Alzheimer’s stole my grandmother,
but only until I see her again.
Sherry Beaman

[Manuel Garces Jr.]

Great poem, Zoan. Who wants to be normal, anyways?

Zoan Stokes said:

WHY?

Why do people stare?
Why does everyone think that it is supposed to be straight?
Why so I have to where a wig to get that job?
Why can't I just be who I am?
Why is my style not as fly as yours?
What makes it OK?
What makes you you and me me?
Why is it not OK to be out of the norm?
What is normal?
Does my hair define me?
Why can't I be me and love who I be?