Reggie

I taught mostly grade school for my 32 years of teaching.  I saw many, many students move on to lives of their own, but Reggie will be a little boy in my mind foerver.


                                                               Reggie had freckles-
                                                               Not just a few,
                                                               they were even
                                                               on his eyelids.
                                                               Reggie was small-
                                                               in fact, he was
                                                               smaller than all
                                                               of the other kids
                                                               in my class.
                                                               Reggie was poor.
                                                               he never bought
                                                               hot lunch.
                                                               He brought a
                                                               peanut butter sandwich
                                                               in a brown  bag.
                                                               Reggie was kind.
                                                               He would never return
                                                               the mean words
                                                               sent his way
                                                               by unthinking kids.
                                                               Reggie smiled--
                                                               Not just a
                                                               boyish grin,
                                                               but with those
                                                               big brown eyes,
                                                               he always warmed
                                                               my heart
                                                               On Reggie's birthday
                                                               his house
                                                               burned down.
                                                               As I held him,
                                                                REGGIE CRIED,
                                             
                                                            

  

Writing Student

I taught school for 32 years, and I taught writing to children and adults.  This poem states my feelings about writng and loosening up to it:





                                                                            Young man
                                                                             staring into space,
                                                                             are you searching
                                                                             for the right word
                                                                             or just hunting in                                
                                                                             the vast jungle
                                                                             of your thoughts?
                                                                             Watch out
                                                                             for the tigers of apathy,
                                                                             and the cliche' python
                                                                             that will squeeze
                                                                             your good thoughts
                                                                             to death!
                                                                             Don't let the
                                                                             the worry of misspellings
                                                                             become stinging insects
                                                                             that keep your ideas
                                                                             inside---
                                                                             Afraid to come out
                                                                             and be seen.
                                                                             Open the door---
                                                                             Release your mind--
                                                                             And let that new
                                                                              Red pencil
                                                                              begin to
                                                                              write.