Thinkers and their eggs

3EggsPoem

eggs by Jeanne in inDesign (with her tech: Don, patiently lining up three eggs)

When I taught in Catholic elementary school,

I had to remind the children every day that they were a circle

and there was no way to be first on line.

They were fiercely competitive

when the essence of the Good News was to be a happy circumference,

a yellow yolk in the white.

Most of the children were black,

but all shades use the same colors to paint their portraits.

It’s a question of values, isn’t it?

 

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My Son is like his mother…

OwenOliverAnnikaJeanne

Jeanne, Owen, Oliver, Annika

.

Owen cleans kitchen,

washes dishes ,stores food, makes

counters serve-able!

(Thanksgiving Talents)

The Rhythm Method

IMG_2966

Arthur, Ginger Jeanne

!

Mom had us all 2

years 18 days apart-the

r-rhythm method!

Highlight’s Haiku

Sunlit by Neil Waldman

painting “Sunlit ” by Neil Goldman

.

highlights over low lights
lowly versus noble
yin and yang of chi
Jeanne

pick up game at gloaming
evening entertainment
under highlights
Don

hidden pictures
magical words
Hi Five for Highlights
Bill

high spirits
high hearts
Highlight’s haiku morning
Eileen

Yo! stunning delivery
fun with a purpose
haiku for Highlights
Joy

Grander than Emoji

stock-vector-winking-and-smiling-emoticon-424290493

Everyone is a microcosm-

while art can push our subconscious “buttons” to merely emote

language (if intelligent) can encourage us to go beyond the stroking of “self” and

collaborate!

to work on something together for the sake of

grander things

than personal gratification, amusement or entertainment.

written by Zelda Weiss in Russian on facebook

translated by Google translate

edited by Jeanne

Once Long Ago

Movie by Jeanne in Looksery

.

Once Long Ago

Before time was locked
inside of clocks,
there was a child
who remembered
being ancient
in another lifetime.

The child held in her heart
the wisdom of the old one
just as that old one
had held inside her
the joy of the child
she had been.

Perhaps, before clocks,
time turned cartwheels,
and that’s where
the idea came from
for the hands of clocks
to spin.

jch 1/10/2014
(Janet Hutchinson)

I curtsy before you…

IMG_0079

photo by Jeanne (painted by Annika)

.

Instead of composing my own poem about “manners” today, I want to share these hilarious bits from other poets. These are today’s prompt from Jan Hutchinson.

Manners Prompt
Write a poem made up of suggestions (real or absurd) for
appropriate manners or behavior in specific situations. You might
talk about being taught manners. Or you might simply entitle your
poem “Manners” and go somewhere unexpected.

Carrie says it’s more rude to stare at a blind man on the street
than to make a fat person joke about someone on TV.
Tony Hoagland

If someone you know
who died long ago
appears to you in dream,
it is rude to point out to them
that they are actually already dead.
jch

…silence is always good manners
and often a clever thing to say
when you are at a party.
Tony Hoagland
in “Social Life”

Style
Mary June’s brother Willard always had
just a certain corner of his handkerchief
hanging out of his hip pocket. That was
my first intimation of a personal style.
My hair wouldn’t comb down; so
every night for years I wore
one of Aunt Klara’s silk stockings
pulled firmly on top of my head.
When we had company my mother was always
afraid I would swing my soup spoon
toward me rather than away. And I was to
leave a little, not scraps like a dog at the last.
These glimpses of decorum in my early life
have fitted me for success. My manners,
my neat handkerchief, and my tame haircut
have seen me through everyday encounters with society.
William Stafford
in The Way It Is

Manners
Sit, she said. The wolf sat. Shake, she said.
He held his face and tail still
and shook everything in between. His fur
stood out in all directions. Sparks flew.
Dear sister, she wrote. His yellow eyes
followed the words discreetly. I have imagined
a wolf. He smells bad. He pants and his long tongue
drips onto the rug, my favorite rug. It has arrows
and urns and diamonds in it. The wolf sits
where I’ve stared all morning hoping
for a heron: statuesque, aloof,
enigmatic. Be that way, the wolf said.
There are other poets.
Pamela Alexander
in Inland

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