Are you a poet? Do you know it?

I know I should be telling you that I'm A rubai - but perhaps some other time. It sounds like work, and anyway, it's late - Unless I sleep, I'll be too tired to rhyme. Besides, there's plates to clear and cups to clink, And when that's done I have to sit and think, Since then it won't be long before I need To sleep again and eat again and drink. What Poetry Form Are You?

Thanks Saipan Writer! I tried it and was surprised
about how accurate this actually is. Now I'm embarrassed
to share any of my own poetry :0 It was fun though.

More Poems I Love

Yesterday I Cried

I came home, went straight to my room,
sat on the edge of my bed,
kicked off my shoes,
unhooked my bra,
and I had myself a good cry.

I'm telling you,
I cried until my nose was running all over
the silk blouse I got on sale.
I cried until my ears were hot.
I cried until my head was hurting so bad
that I could hardly see the pile of
soiled tissues lying on the floor at my feet.

I want you to understand,
I had myself a really good cry yesterday.

Yesterday, I cried,
for all the days that I was too busy,
or too tired,
or too mad to cry.

I cried for all the days, and all the ways,
and all the times I had dishonored,
disrespected, and
disconnected my Self from myself,
only to have it reflected back to me
in the ways others did to me
the same things I had already done to myself.

I cried for all the things I had given,
only to have them stolen;
for all the things I had asked for that
had yet to show up;
for all the things I had accomplished,
only to give them away,
to people in circumstances,
which left me feeling empty,
and battered and plain old used.

I cried because there really does
come a time when the only thing left
for you to do is cry.

Yesterday, I cried.
I cried because little boys get
left by their daddies;
and little girls get forgotten by their mommies;
and daddies don't know what to do, so they leave;
and mommies get left, so they get mad.

I cried because I had a little boy,
and because I was a little girl,
and because I was a mommy
who didn't know what to do,
and because I wanted my daddy to be there
for me so badly until I ached.

Yesterday, I cried.
I cried because I hurt.
I cried because I was hurt.
I cried because hurt has no place to go
except deeper into the pain that
caused it in the first place,
and when it gets there,
the hurt wakes you up.

I cried because it was too late.
I cried because it was time.

I cried because my soul knew that I didn't know
that my soul knew everything I needed to know.

I cried a soulful cry yesterday,
and it felt so good.

It felt so very, very bad.

In the midst of my crying,
I felt my freedom coming,
Because Yesterday,
I cried with an agenda.
-Iyanla Vanzant

In honor of National Poetry Month, I'd like to post one of my favorite poems. This one's by Kipling and it was read by last year's OELA (Office of English Language Acquisition) Keynote Speaker, and cultural consultant for Nickelodeon's Dora the Explorer: Dr. Carlos Cortes. Incidentally, Dr. Cortes also began his speech talking about a little island in Micronesia called Saipan, and the important role that second language played in the life of the late Guy Gabaldon during WWII. He spoke of honoring the pluribus and honoring the unum. He spoke not just of multi-culturalism, but of belonging. When I find my notes, I will post more about that remarkeable day. My colleagues and I sat there, among thousands of other participants with our heads held high, proud to have been associated with such a hero and to have been mentioned in the midst of the nation's leading educators.

We and They

---

FATHER, Mother, and Me
Sister and Auntie say
All the people like us are We,
And every one else is They.
And They live over the sea,
While We live over the way,
But - would you believe it? - They look upon We
As only a sort of They !

We eat pork and beef
With cow-horn-handled knives.
They who gobble Their rice off a leaf,
Are horrified out of Their lives;
And They who live up a tree,
And feast on grubs and clay,
(Isn't it scandalous?) look upon We
As a simply disgusting They!

We shoot birds with a gun.
They stick lions with spears.
Their full-dress is un-.
We dress up to Our ears.
They like Their friends for tea.
We like Our friends to stay;
And, after all that, They look upon We
As an utterly ignorant They!

We eat kitcheny food.
We have doors that latch.
They drink milk or blood,
Under an open thatch.
We have Doctors to fee.
They have Wizards to pay.
And (impudent heathen!) They look upon We
As a quite impossible They!

All good people agree,
And all good people say,
All nice people, like Us, are We
And every one else is They:
But if you cross over the sea,
Instead of over the way,
You may end by (think of it!) looking on We
As only a sort of They !