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My Account > > Personal Information > > HSTeech
Avatar All about HSTeech
Joined: Aug 02, 2008
Rank: Told love the world was on fire
Awards: Poet of the Month!Staff Picks!Seasons Poetry Contest!Staff Picks!Staff Picks!Staff Picks!judge tanka contestStaff Picks!Poem of MonthBlog Picks!Winner-The Old Year-2008Staff Picks!Best Critic - June 2009Staff Picks/September 2009winner/ekphrastic poetry contest
Location: Battling ignorance in Rm 111
Last visit: 19-Nov-2009
My Occupation: English Teacher
Interests: My daughter, nature, art, poetry, music, people
Real Name: Andrea
Signature: http://cleavegeneration.wordpress.com/
http://www.artemisrising.org/

Recipe for a poem by Thom Ward:
One dash syllable, One dash silence, One dash clarity, One dash mystery, One dash - the ineffable..
Biography: I am a 43 yo single mom with a 5 yo daughter. I teach high school juniors and seniors American Lit and Creative Writing. If I had any spare time, I'd travel more, garden more, read more, write more, take a class just for kicks.
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HSTeech's recent Blog entry. Common Ground ( 1831 reads) Thursday, May 21, 2009 (01:56:00)
 
For more than thirty years, this has been the females’ job. For the last few, it has been I who gets on my knees to work the earth in front of the stone. Over time it has become good earth, loose and workable. Last year’s roots let go easily and I am able to brush the surviving bits of mulch away with my fingertips. It seems like I have pulled the same wild strawberry out forever. It is insistent that it be here too.

I have sunk the three extraordinarily pink geraniums into the ground already by the time my mother returns with the full watering can. She pours some of the water down the face of the stone, rinsing it, as she waters the new flowers. The wet granite is dark. I wonder what she is thinking about as she does this.

Thirty years ago, my grandmother, mom and I did this together. A wife, a daughter, and a granddaughter came here each May to plant flowers in front of the stone half finished. It said 1899-1974 under my grandfather’s name. Under my grandmother’s name then, it said 1901- . I wonder what she thought about, when it was she who watered the geraniums. Now the stone has a 1988, too, for anyone who is interested.

Every year my mother has recalled to me how small the cedars were when she was here at her grandmother’s funeral. This year I have brought my saw, and while she is recalling, we cut back the overgrown branches that threaten to completely obscure the large, main family stone. I admonish my daughter to stay away from the poison ivy, and not to climb on gravestones. She trots next to me as I drag the cut branches to the ravine and asks me if I cry about my Grandpa and Grandma. I tell her the truth: yes, sometimes I do.

Later, the three of us walk through the cemetery together, as we always have. We weave through the tipped stones, to the tippier ones, and finally to the table-style ones from the 1600’s where today we discover historical society people restoring the creepy, sinking parts under those tables. The director is pleased to meet us - reacts to our middle names, that are same ones by which we are at this moment surrounded - direct descendants of the person in the very grave on which they are working. It is not often one meets the 5,6 ,and 7x great granddaughters of the historical figure whose grave you are working on, right there in the cemetery! Mom is delighted to know that the man knew her uncle well, and grew up drinking milk from our family dairy.

On the walk back, mom reminds me yet again that we are related to all these people. Once she may have known how, but she doesn’t anymore. She just knows that we are, and it is important to her that I know this. On this day, every May, I do not let my mother drive me crazy. Here she has something to share, and I gladly accept. This is our place of common ground, literally, and figuratively.

My daughter, who has run ahead, scurries back to me with a handful of buttercups. She makes me stop, so she can hold one under my chin, to see if I like butter, just as my grandmother did to me when I was a small child. I laugh because I remember the answer. Yes, sometimes I do.

Comments (8)
HSTeech's Last 12 Poems [ All | Favorites ]
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Leggolas Bogeyman lash570 questionajourney varivas omegapaf loisseau fogglethorpe superjill badmalthus Mayo zhaul blackdog724 synkronyze TheBuzzingBee holz Blondie induce stella walrus
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    "If I Could Be a Poem" | Login/Create an Account | 5
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    The comments are owned by the poster. We aren't responsible for their content.

    Re: If I Could Be a Poem (Score: 1 )
    by butterflyzrfree on Tuesday, July 28, 2009 (23:15:31)
    Where are your poems???? Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad


    Re: If I Could Be a Poem (Score: 1 )
    by abdo11 on Friday, January 30, 2009 (21:10:00)
    you desesrve writing a lot of poem to your nice eyes


    Re: If I Could Be a Poem
    by Anonymous on Thursday, September 04, 2008 (14:14:34)
    YOU ROCK!!!! Keep doing what you love....and what you do so well!

    The other "A"


    [No Subject] (Score: 1 )
    by synkronyze on Saturday, August 09, 2008 (19:58:38)
    Hey there This Is Jon B. Just letting you know what my name was and letting you know I posted my poem.





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