My [redacted] Journey

A teacher's search for inner peace.

Poetry, Schmoetry


January 1, 2014

Dear Readers,

I have only ever written one poem that I can remember.  “What?  But, you’re an English teacher!”  Hold on, hold on; only one that I can remember.  I am almost positive that I have written miles of metaphors and cubits of couplets.  All of which have been thankfully,  forgotten.  Generally, poetry is much too succinct for me.  A poet is able to pack a plethora of meaning into a portion of the page to make them palatable for the people perusing the poem.  Groan!  That was simply an awful sentence 😦  I will stick to narratives.  My motto?  Why say in 10 syllables what I can say in at least two run-on sentences.

Ok, so we have established that I am a bit long-winded, dear Readers.  Nevertheless, there was a time when I created a poem in which I am most proud.  It’s not going to win any poetry slam contests, mind you, I’m not that hip.  However, it is a poem that speaks to who I am; it is my identity.  I have read beautifully written poetry that can speak to the heart of me.  But my poem speaks for the heart in me.  And only I could have created that.

So, dear Readers, without further ado, I give you my poem.

Deep in my soul, I know who I am:

a mother, a teacher, not a Miss, but a M’am.

I’m fearful, creative, outspoken and proud,

I’m scattered and such, and my laugh is too loud.

I’m respectful, respected, forgiving and wise.

I care more for my health and less of my size.

I’ve traveled highways and byways,

Been good…but, not always.

I’ve been places so dark, and now that I know,

I will rise when I fall, I’ve a long way to go.

Deep in my soul I know who I am:

a mother, a teacher, not a Miss, but a M’am.

So there you have it, dear Readers, my poem and me.  My identity lives within those twelve lines of poetry; my heart and soul come alive within those twelve lines of poetry.  It’s me, it’s the best I’ve got.  And that, dear Readers, must say a lot.  In fact, it speaks volumes.  Peace, ~v.


2 thoughts on “Poetry, Schmoetry

  1. poetry scares me. i enjoy reading it and i sometimes i think about writing it- but to be honest i feel as if poetry is not for me to write. i have no problem with that. i love reading others’ work and especially those of the blogosphere. 🙂


    • Mona,
      I think it is fairly well-established that I am a bit too wordy for poetry! Having said that, I am the only one who could write a ‘me’ poem. If, as I learned from the movie “Dead Poet’s Society”, that poetry is written to “woo women”, I am sadly out of my league 😉 Thank you for stopping by. Victoria


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