Of tables, poetry, and dragonflies

Poetry In the Margins

On the fringe of life,
at the edge lie secret poems;
Aspects of the soul.

January:

I spent the morning playing around with coding and I think I got it to work the way I want it to. I wanted to have that nifty side bar that now exists over there to the right of this. I’ve seen others with them and wondered how it was done. In mine I had planned on just listing the books I’ve read each month, either as part of the Twelve in 12 challenge or as part of the Escapist Book Club (formerly the Dailies Book Club). On Goodreads.com this year “they” are doing a personal reading goal, and mine is to read 40 books in 2011. Now, since it seems that my average for the last few years is actually 45; that means to reach my goal I will read about four books a month. Which if I have time is not that hard for me. I devour books, it’s the time part that tends to slip away when I am in school….

On a different note, I’ve been thinking for the past few days about a note I wrote a student on a post-it I placed in his writing journal. I opened to the first page, and it had an entry about some really bad things happening among my kids (an entry for another time, but it will be or my eyes only) – but in the margins of the paper were little lines of poetry; just his thoughts, but I read them all as poetry anyway. I wrote him a note that “I love your poetry in the margins” on post-it because I will not write in a student’s journal without their permission; it is their writing and I want to honor that; subsequently, I go through a lot of post-its in a year.

I keep thinking as I read their writing journals that I wish all of my students could see just how much poetry they have in them. The insight and their use of language, even when I sit and cry for hours for them, their words are so powerful and beautiful. They see so much, feel and think so deeply, but because of life that inner poetry is relegated to the margins of their lives…

I think poetry lives in the margins of all of our lives. It is there in snatches of words and thoughts and dreams, which fly away on a breath.

As it stands I think in similes and metaphors; words and phrases will chase each other around in the back of my mind, waiting for me to write something – but sadly so many of those snatches, those colorful dragonflies of thought and emotion, get lost in the margins….

I’m going to try to save some of them, catch them and keep them to look at they inner light, and then let them go to become what they might. Poetry promises dragonflies that skitter at the corner of your eye, bright colors that are soon forgotten, but for a moment they shine.