Sky

Sky
My friend
Looking into you
Feeling your deep presence
Watching over me at night
Feeling your bright eyes
Gazing at me
Great soul
Sky


Ken Goree

Reshapings

Mountains crumble to the sea
From wind and sun and rain
From the ravages of long time
Nothing can sustain

Erosion seems a wicked thing
From millennia and on
But the building sources of our world
Are counted by the eon

Time and forces that shape planets
Are hard really to grasp
When we think of days and hours
For perspective we should ask

Mountains press up from the seas
Caused by tectonic plates
We know this when we look real close at
Its sedimentary traits


Ken Goree


Just remembered the “didactic” form of poetry and thought I’d try to teach a short geology lesson.

Worker Bee

Much done
Much to do
Better if

I were two

Day past
Day long
Best if

Earlier gone

Hard toil
Hard work
Grander if
Don’t shirk

Wild day
Wild night
Slumber time
Heavenly sight

Ken Goree

I actually have plenty of energy left, after my long fulfilling day with my new class.  I love them.  I should have a lot of poetry fuel this year as their energy and behaviors run the spectrum from one end to the other; sometimes all in the same child.

Let Me

When vile
Storm
Tears apart
Your placid
Surface
Reaching down,
Meaning
To churn to froth
Your still depths
Let me
Breathe away the
Tempest
Let me
Calm the parts of
You
That no other can
See
With my touch
Let me
Smooth your
Surface
To once again
Shine
And
Reflect
Creation’s
Beauty


Ken Goree

Young and Lost

Whistle,
Stamp,
Fidget,
Rock,
Talk,
Call out,
Desk covered,
Chair bouncing,
Pencil box rattling,
Singing in silent hall,
Push,
Rub,
Grab,
Lost work,
Broken pencil,
Anxious scramble,
Edge of tears
Escape to
Unstructure


Ken Goree


I had the first day of school today; what a wonderful, beautiful class.  There was one poor boy who is more scattered and disorganized than almost any I have had as a student before.  I feel sorry for him.  Trying to get his stuff together at the end of the day was an ordeal for him.  A very simple activity, for even a less than average organized person, almost left him in tears.  Five pieces of paper were handed to him and he was to put them in a folder.  The rest of the class did this activity, got their backpacks from the hall, packed up and lined up to go.  At that point, I had to help him find the pieces of paper which were in his desk, on his desk and under his desk mat.  The poor guy was almost in tears.  I am going to have to work hard to teach him systems to make him be successful.

He is the classic “class clown” who is loud, distracting, and distracted.  It is a cover; he is trying not to be “found out.”  He’s scared.