Category Archives: poetry

Janell, I’m sorry; I should have said…

Had I Whispered it Long Ago

Whisper brushes like a too familiar stranger on the subway train.
Annoyed at the intrusion, you fume but whisper nothing back.
Oh, you have things to tell that wispy voice,
Things you’ll get around to when it’s right.
Somehow the time seems wrong, just another day or two….

It seems to whisper things you knew but would forget.
It does not forget, that wispy voice; it’ll not let go—
Not because of that which could have been,
But because of that which was and now is gone.

Another breath and soft caress; too close to stay.
Jumble of noise not making sense, just go away!
Behind your back, around your head, but never in your ear—
Persistent pest, that weak-willed voice won’t halt,
Won’t stop to breathe sweet nothings…No….
No; it shares no nothings with your ear.
Let it buzz and flit about; there’s no response for nothing.
When it’s calm there will be time to whisper—
No, not whisper—time to say, “                                                .”
Then the pesky buzz, the wordless whisper, might go away.

Days pass ‘til you can’t tell if it’s been weeks or months,
But still the whisper’s there, no change you can detect.
Weeks go by until they’re months or maybe even years.
Has there been a time you didn’t know this background noise,
This softly rustling, whispering, rasping sound?
Hard to remember…there was a time, it seems,
When faint whispers found their way inside
To mingle with the messy parts of who you are.
Those pleasing sounds couldn’t be the same as this?
This darting, fleeting, mad’ning hum?
No, no, they’re not the same, they couldn’t be,
One looked to be a part of you.  This other: apart from you.
So you change your days and set your mind to other things—
Tune out that vexing sound apart from you—
To fix those messy parts which it deserted long ago.

Less and less do you hear the buzz, the whispering fades,
Tugs less frequently, and only here and there in small crescendos.

Failing to remember the place it loved
and what it used to say,
The whisper
fades

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Filed under About Me, Janell, Love, musings, poetry, Relationships

And you never know what they will do

Rochester, NY

Every once in a while a day just slaps you in the face. Sometimes that slap hurts. Sometimes it’s a wake up call. And sometimes it serves as a reminder that you’re doing the right thing. Friday was of the latter sort of day. We were doing shows at an upper elementary school in Westborough, MA and there was a perfect theatrical moment in our second show. A fourth grader took it upon himself to really be a part of the show. It was a brilliant moment.
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Filed under Arts & Entertainment, Education, kids, poetry, Theatre

New Hampshire had a Primary?

Chattanooga, TN

Clinton who? Where’s McCain again?

Ah, the wonders of a news day in small town America. Michelle and I performed in Henderson, KY the last couple days and the local paper came out and did a story at our second school on Tuesday. Some of the more astute out there might also recall that there was some national political goings-on that same day. Apparently Henderson couldn’t have cared less about that. We were the lead story, A-1, above the fold in Wednesday’s paper, followed by that stuff that went on in New Hampshire (sure, they were A-1, but below the fold). Or, maybe we just take better pictures than politicians.
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Filed under Arts & Entertainment, Education, Entertainment, IDiots, musings, poetry

To find out what it really means.

Asheville, NC

The title of this post refers to a poem, not any specific poem but to a single poem in general. It is the last line of An Introduction to Poetry, written by former poet laureate of the US, Billy Collins. If you know the poem at all, the irony of the rest of this paragraph many overwhelm you.

With apologies to Billy, I must say that following the advice in his poem is the perfect way to skim across the days of your life, dipping a toe in here and there, without ever really slowing down and taking stock of what you’ve done. You’ll glide on by a lot of stuff which seems important, you’ll see it, hold it, breath it in, then release it to the air and breathe back in the best parts later on. You’ll find yourself wandering here and there, looking out on too many things to put away, things that you’ll wish you’d remembered, and are still glad that you’ve seen.

And maybe that’s the point.

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Filed under Education, influences, musings, poetry