Mrs. Ram's Jams

Category: poems

• A Poem: Thin Air

  Posted at 10:23 am by Jeddarae, on July 18, 2020

  

  you’re thin air
  i need an oxygen mask
  because you’re blowing thin air
  i gasp and i gasp and i gasp
  and i sigh

  because i can’t breathe your thin air

  you’re breathing in lies and breathing out lines
  i can no longer ignore the signs
  when you’re weaving thick lies out of thin air

  your thin air is under pressure
  your thick lies are under pressure
  think you can press my face into the gas
  for your pleasure

  i can’t breathe because you’re pressing my face into the gas for your pleasure

  i’m under pressure
  i’m under pressure
  and i’ve got one question to ask
  for good measure

  how can you be so cold when you’re full of hot air?

  i gasp and i gasp and i gasp
  and i sigh

  if i stay here a moment longer
  i’ll disappear into thin air
  but my lungs are getting stronger

  My lungs have gotten stronger.
  I won’t stay a moment longer.

  Because I can’t breathe your hot air.
  No more oxygen masks
  because I’m through with thin air.

  You’re out of thin air.
  My lungs have gotten stronger.

  And you’ve disappeared into thin air.

  

  Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com
  Posted in poems, poetry, Uncategorized, writing | 4 Comments | Tagged out of thin air, poem, poems, poetry, thin air

• A Poem: Me Me Me Meme

  Posted at 9:50 am by Jeddarae, on June 27, 2020

  

  Me me me meme
  me gets me news from a meme

  You you you youth
  you ignore the truth

  We we we Westerners
  we look like misinformed questioners

  Me me me meme
  open the economy
  You you you youth
  keep hanging out in groups
  We we we wealthy
  don’t care if the masses are healthy

  Me Me Me Me
  and
  You You You You
  and
  We We We We

  are fucked.

  Posted in poems, poetry, Uncategorized | 2 Comments | Tagged poems, poetry, political poems

• A Poem: When It’s Time to Kneel

  Posted at 8:09 am by Jeddarae, on May 30, 2020

  

  When it’s time to Kneel, Keep in mind how black men Kneeling in peaceful protest made you feel.

  When it’s time to Kneel, Keep in mind how history Kindles and spins a white, privileged wheel.

  When it’s time to Kneel, Keep in mind how mothers Keening over their murdered black sons’ graves is real.

  Because it’s never time to kneel on a black man’s neck on the asphalt. It’s not their fault.

  Because when are you going to stand up instead of just kneel?

  Because it’s time for you to stand up, Neil.

  Stand up, Neil.

  Posted in poems, Uncategorized | 2 Comments | Tagged blacklivesmatter, poems, poetry

• A Poem: I Know More Than You

  Posted at 9:26 am by Jeddarae, on May 9, 2020

  

  I don’t know who or what to believe anymore

  so I’ll just put My trust in youtube folklore

  the experts are crooks

  who want Me to read books

  and wear a mask

  what an unpatriotic task

  you can’t tell Me what to do

  because I’ve got google and it knows more than you

  I’ll keep My gun on My hip

  and call you a dip shit

  for believing in science

  screw your feminist liberal defiance

  you can’t tell Me what to do

  because I’m a man and will always know more than you

  everything will go back to the way it was before

  just go ahead and reopen the economy’s door

  because your life doesn’t matter as much

  as Me being able to get a decent haircut and such

  you can’t tell Me what to do

  because I will never let you forget that I know more than you

  Posted in poems, poetry | 8 Comments | Tagged coronavirus, covid-19, poems, poetry

• A Poem: Sunshine and Turpentine

  Posted at 10:03 am by Jeddarae, on April 11, 2020

  

  On an indigo whim,
  she sweeps her soul into sunshine and turpentine,
  whispering its bouquet to the wind.

  It butterflies like dandelion fluff,
  parachuting on the breeze.

  While teasing the ground,
  with ambrosial and noisome sounds,
  it harmonizes into hymns of him–
  a heady elixir that grieves the miles, the years, the bigger picture–
  and lands on his sleeve.

  He breathes in her song, her scent–
  what went wrong and what it all meant–
  and breathes out: I was never enough.

  Posted in poems, poetry, Uncategorized | 3 Comments | Tagged poem, poems, poetry, writing

• A Coronavirus Poem: War Hands

  Posted at 11:53 am by Jeddarae, on March 28, 2020

  

  declaring war on my hands
  has left them raw–
  they’ve been scrubbed too hard with sandpaper
  and a wolf has chewed them bloody with its murderous maw

  COVID-19
  has corroded my hands by soaking them in gasoline

  I have war hands
  and it’s left me raw

  Posted in poems, poetry, Uncategorized, writing | 2 Comments | Tagged blogging, blogs, coronavirus, covid-19, hands, poems, washyourhands, writing

• A Poem: The Sated Double Standard

  Posted at 3:09 pm by Jeddarae, on February 15, 2020

  

  pampered, never neglected, but unheard
  isolated, never surrounded, but invalidated
  waiting, never going, but placating
  hating the sated double standard

  Posted in poems, poetry, Uncategorized, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged blogging, challenge, daily challenge, daily post, daily prompt, daily word, isoloate, pampered, poem, poems, poetry, ragtag daily prompt, rdp, waiting

• A Teacher Poem: Buzz Words

  Posted at 11:17 am by Jeddarae, on January 25, 2020

  

  begin with the end in mind, AKA backward design
  Common Core and 504
  ELL, STEM, and IEP are not absentee (But if they were, you’d have to let them make up the work, for sure.)
  collaborate and debate
  Claim retired, and its replacement is assertion; try teaching that to little persons.

  rigor
  response
  reflection
  rubric
  will point you in the right (write?) direction

  facilitate with fidelity; provide actionable feedback . . . (but don’t call in sick unless you’re having a heart attack)
  Is your summative assessment warm or cold? (Grab a blanket–so we’re told.)
  flip the classroom; personalize learning (to get their brains churning)

  What’s the objective? 
  Does it align with the standards?
  How does the curriculum get them college and career ready?

  Scaffold.
  Differentiate.
  Rigor.
  Peer conversations.
  Rigor.
  Text complexity.

  Rigor.
  Rigor.
  Rigor.

  Build relationships. 
  Rigor.
  One to one.
  Rigor.
  Lexile.
  Rigor. 

  Rigor.
  Rigor.
  Rigor.

  TRIGGER WARNING

  The kids still find it boring.

  And by week’s end, the only buzz words we care about are Tito’s, tequila, and Tanqueray (with honorable mentions to happy hour and chardonnay).

  

  Photo by Daria Shevtsova on Pexels.com

  Posted in poems, poetry, teaching, Uncategorized, writing | 2 Comments | Tagged blogging, blogs, english teacher, humor, middle school teacher, poems, poems about teaching, poetry, teacher, teaching, teaching middle school, writing

• A Poem About Ulcerative Colitis: The Ouroboros

  Posted at 2:01 pm by Jeddarae, on January 18, 2020

  

  What does ulcerative colitis feel like? Here’s my best poetic attempt.

  ---

  twisted under blankets to smother

  the bushfire 
  raging through the
  death adder
  hissing 
  flicking its forked tongue
  fangs
  puncturing smoke and blaze
  scarring its wake vermilion, bitter, black
  sloughing its cinders
  a phoenix-masked ouroboros

  twisted under fire blankets aching for the rain

  ---

  As always, invisible illness only remains invisible unless we talk about it.  I hope all my fellow chronic pain sufferers find their rain soon.

  

   

   

  Posted in chronic pain, poems, poetry, ulcerative colitis, Uncategorized, writing | 2 Comments | Tagged blogging, blogs, chronic illness, chronic pain, ibd, inflammatory bowel disease, invisible illness, poems, poetry, ulcerative colitis, writing

• A Poem: English Class Will Never Be Baseball

  Posted at 3:40 pm by Jeddarae, on September 21, 2019

  

  English class will never be baseball.

  Cracking open a book can’t compete with the crack of the bat and the crowd’s cheers for you.

  Fumbling through Homer’s The Odyssey will feel more like fumbling a grounder in the bottom of the ninth during a tied game than hitting a homer to win it all.

  Throwing words around with a pen and paper to write an essay will never rival throwing warm-up pitches in the bullpen.

  The thunk of the catcher’s hand pounding his mitt between curveballs and changeups will never sound like “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” nor The Catcher in the Rye.

  Wry puns and satire will never play hardball in your playbook. Three strikes you’re out and triple plays are more important to you than the rule of threes and idioms.

  Sliding into second and shaking hands at the game’s end will never be sliding into the second act of a Shakespeare play.

  And that’s just fine, sluggers, because English class isn’t supposed to be baseball, but the real MVPs and big leaguers value both.

  

  Photo by Matthew T Rader on Pexels.com

   

  Posted in poems, poetry, reading, teaching, Uncategorized, writing | 4 Comments | Tagged baseball, blogging, blogs, english class, english teacher, middle school teacher, poems, poems about teaching, poetry, teaching, teaching boys, teaching middle school, writing

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