My mother
is a verb
While sleeping
as a young
child, I would
often awake
only to find Mom
working
on tasks left undone
during regular hours
I would find her
sewing
ironing or folding
freshly-washed
laundry
while quietly
watching
midnight shows
to keep her company
When she
would sleep
I did not know
I know theme is truth told through text
Like a child discovering
Life is full of choices
Choices come with consequences
Consequences can lead to growth
I know parallelism is about patterns
Like a child observing
Geese flying south
Gardeners planting crops in rows
Waves breaking the shore
I know how to write a summary
Like a child telling her first story
Who did it?
Where and when did it happen?
How? Why?
I know
Like a child learning in school
Because I read
Because I write
Because I live
Check out this other poem I wrote as part of a lesson plan.
Go ahead:
be a writing rebel.
Break the rules.
Be unconventional.
Alter spelling.
Remove punctuation,
or add some.
Be reckless
and write
everything
in lower case.
Throw out
proper grammar
like scribbles
holding
your worst ideas.
Before you do,
however,
you must master
the basics.
Otherwise,
your rule breaking
is pointless.
