My sister decided that to take and post a photograph every day.
It seemed like a good way to force...self-encourage creativity. But I don't take photographs.
This blog will be my daily[ish] writings. Some days I may write poems, some days I'll write phrases or sentences. Since most of what I post here will probably fall into some category of poetry, I must quote Paul Valery, as he accurately stated that, "A poem is never finished, only abandoned." So everything here is a work in progress.
Grade school basketball
Is choreography synchronized and rehearsed
But performed to music you've never heard before.
It's your favorite song
In a language you don't understand.
It's rolling through the stop
As you catch the cop
From the corner of your eye.
It's shooting at the wrong goal
With a particularly unembarrassed smile.
It's asking the referee,
"Who do I guard?"
It's both teams in the same color
And guessing who tipped the ball off the flagpole.
It's aunties on the court
And little brother sitting on the players' bench.
It's a stepping stone to knowing,
"This is not my kind of game."
I've been [poorly] refereeing some 5th grade basketball games. This is taken from observations of the games and retrospection on my officiating... skill.
Learning is chocolate, Each fact a handcrafted confection. It's two scoops of ice cream That you can't not eat When you shouldn't Have another bite.
Ideas are rainbows, Glimmering every color twice. They are the soft curves Of natural beauty. They are swimming With dolphins at your wet fingertips.
Knowledge is a rippling richter wave Rumbling through all the earth. It is the flaming fusion In the sparkle of the stars. It is moving parts and solid state. It is worth every thought.
I got the idea for this from a film I watched about learning differences. It was a kind of tribute to Bill Cosby's late son, Ennis, who was dyslexic. Anyway, a girl, maybe about 10-12 years old who had gone through school thinking that she was unable to learn happened across some good teachers who figured out how to teach this girl. The point to all this is that when the girl started to learn, she did not want to stop for a second. She said, with a huge, giggly smile, "Learning is ice cream!"
Thinking Is a geometric ray. A point of origin, And a direction. A straight rail From An electric flesh brain Sraight out Staight ahead Straight through. Point after consecutive point, One leading to another To the next and again In a perfect plot Of graphable order.