Nigel's Speech

 Ode For a Forceful Speaker

(Nigel’s speech)

Rising from the industrial chair of OFFICE –

Standing and swiftly buttoning your uniform - a suit jacket.

Perhaps it shall be the pinstripe model today.

Microphones seem absurd in this moment.

Words pounce from your mouth as though

Verbiage was merely vermillion flames fanning forth.

When conviction is so strong that the

Stomach shakes and slides up into the esophagus, pushing

Further thoughts into your throat – that is how I know you’re ON.

It is a struggle, isn’t it?

To keep the language from lunging over the table and

Tumbling all around the audience.

Your socks are worn from bouncing up on the balls

Of your feet every time words threaten to take you with them.

A quick pause –

Remembering to reign in some of that daft vocabulary –

Your spectators are far from listless. 

More than an ordinary orator – you have a message and

We are LISTENING.

So proud!!!

Love/Hate Letter

Dear Student(s),


Thank you for taking the time to fill out this course evaluation form. Since most of you did not bother to take the survey, this letter is strictly intended for those who chose to proffer feedback.

After reading these evaluation comments, I feel that you simply treat this as an opportunity to express both your disdain and your respect toward me. Instead of critical constructive criticism, I am left with a personality profile that would make a multiple personality disordered individual look positively normal. My job is to push you. I will push you out of your circumstances and out of your comfort zones, and because of this; I am both maligned and adored. No matter – my skin is so callused, it is almost impenetrable.

This isn’t supposed to be an easy or comfortable process for either of us. If it were; well, I’d be wasting your time and your money, not to mention stunting my own growth as an instructor. Unlike some of the teachers you’ve had in the past, I take my job seriously, and yes, I care. And, I will continue to care more than you’ll ever realize. Remember, I am a human being and, amazingly, have feelings too. After reading these assessments, I walk away feeling the accolades and the worthlessness simultaneously. Above all else, consider this: I didn’t give you the final grade; you earned it.

Earnestly,

Emily

Kilarney Beach - Bay City, MI

The fog is hanging outside the big

Bay window as if it thinks it is canvas,

And I am blind.

This house built behind a rusty

Seawall smells of a brandy brown

Dependence and grandma’s White Linen.

A scent I will later wear, but

She doesn’t know that now.



The storm is forming cannon

Blasts of warm fishy yellowness,

And I want to run from the waves

Which grow – and intensify their

Thrashing on the old seawall.



She has started the dishwasher,

So the room is one big roaring rush

Of swishes perforated with talk of sleep.

I am tired,

But the storm is alive and the smokestacks

Across the bay are blinking at me

Through a small slice in the fog.



They are waiting for me to join them

In the gigantic grey.

Creative Writing Every Damned Day

Do creative writing skills have anything to do with everyday life? As a teacher, I’m inclined to respond “hell yes” to this question, but I’m sure I would disappoint many if I just left it at that. Being able to use words creatively, allows a person to inspire others, to express herself clearly and artistically, and most importantly, to turn the ordinary into something semi-magical. God bless the poets and painters, for without them, dullness couldn’t begin to describe our worldly predicament.

I am a writer, and therefore, a reader as well. Reading the works of others has inspired a multitude of thoughts, feelings, and yes, the occasional final project paper. I would like to say I have original work (wouldn’t any artist) but in reality we are all grasping at ideas that have long since been explored. Ahhh, what magnificence it must have been to tackle the human condition the way Shakespeare did before Freud came in and fucked with it. Or, the adrenaline rush Chaucer must have felt to toss perverted witticisms into his work, knowing full well he could be excommunicated and/or beheaded. Essentially, we’ve been drawing on each other’s thoughts and observations for a very long time. I can only hope (wonder) if someone ages from now looks at my work and says, “That reminds me of…”

Artistic self-expression does not equal snobbery. No, to the contrary, in my opinion, it requires a person to have what I like to call “humble guts.” Being unassumingly brave may be new territory for some, but I do believe it’s possible. One must not let the constant barrage of criticism affect the innate need for her innovative eloquence. I take what is necessary from the critics, but no more. In addition, I always walk away with pride and self-determination intact.

Even more important than confidence, is that I can make doing dishes divine, scrubbing sinks supernatural, or baking mostaccioli mystical. How? Creative writing makes my life somewhat magical in many unexpected ways. Somehow through years of word skills and observations, I came to the (not always pleasant) conclusion that the language arts were my ticket to a more mysterious explanation of the everyday. Damn the dullness!

Night Rabbits

You don’t think

I see you,

Quivering behind the

Birch and pine.

A primitive shyness,

Wide-eyed and nibbling

Under a dark uncertain sky.

Your nervous mother

Fears for you.

I too, have felt this

Tug between anxiety and pride.

Dearest child,

Whether in the concealing woods,

Or out where the sun can

Cuddle your livelihood,

Remember –

Present to the world

Your most serene face.

Read my Medium Raw challenge essay: More than Fuel

Read my Medium Raw challenge essay: More than Fuel