Poems about Teaching (Common trash)

Common storms bring common trash
To the beach
But a great storm-
A smashing against the stones storm,
A storm that shovels your words back down your throat,
And slaps you repeatedly upside your head -
For trying to catch just a glimpse of its beauty-
That one brings treasure:
Grey with deep curved furrows
And small black holes
Convoluted gnarls and rhythmic layers
Chiseled, molded, sanded, formed,
And the beach is transformed into a sculpture garden
Of intricate abstraction.

It is now over a month since the newest works appeared --
Almost two --
And there are still exciting discoveries to be made.
I deliver the latest find to my students
With the joy of a young parent displaying snapshots of his new child.
Sketch this, I tell them.
Pay attention to the form, the lines, the values and textures
It is all here. Just drink it in.
Perhaps my enthusiasm is a little too zen for them.
They moan.
They complain.
It’s too hard.
It’s a stick.
Why do we have to draw a stick?
 
© Joe Thompson · www.imaginesongs.com

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