tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7364271391658931892024-03-05T19:43:57.543-05:00The Ogre's Poetry DenArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.comBlogger1053125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-8607427958565917152018-12-23T16:59:00.001-05:002018-12-23T16:59:11.042-05:00haiku 12/23/18<br />
lively little pup<br />
two more sleeping next to me<br />
sunday afternoon<br />
<br />
<br />
©2018-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-50114296842620961722018-12-21T19:29:00.004-05:002018-12-21T19:29:58.799-05:00haiku 12/21/18a cold, rainy day<br />
no surprise in December<br />
next week Spring again<br />
<br />
<br />
©2018-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-65249437189865871312018-12-19T18:35:00.001-05:002018-12-19T18:35:22.768-05:00shadorma 12/19/18the struggles<br />
of everyday life<br />
are weighty<br />
and wearing<br />
i feel them pulling me down<br />
i cannot drown, though<br />
<br />
©2018-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-3416773560295743992018-12-19T18:30:00.001-05:002018-12-19T18:30:35.269-05:00haiku 12/19/18determination<br />
the ant struggles with the seed<br />
as it goes uphill<br />
<br />
<br />
©2018-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-87778080349243055062016-03-10T13:29:00.000-05:002016-03-10T13:29:28.910-05:00Riddle PoemWorking on Riddle Poems with my students. I came up with this...<br />
<br />
<br />
It's said I never change my spots,<br />
No matter how fast I go.<br />
I chase down zebra and wildebeest,<br />
Because I am not slow.<br />
Lions and tigers envy my speed,<br />
As through the savanna I race,<br />
To catch my food and feed my cubs,<br />
I'm always in first place.<br />
<br />
What am I?
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
©2016-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-7917103944869281262016-01-12T20:24:00.000-05:002016-01-12T20:24:38.074-05:00Dancing Running Free<br />
In my head I am dancing<br />
even as I sit behind this desk<br />
and quietly take out the paper and pencil<br />
for the next in an infinite series of tests and quizzes<br />
<br />
In my heart I am running free<br />
no shackled to your expectations<br />
not weighed down by your disapproval<br />
of my wanting to go to the bathroom for god’s sake<br />
<br />
In my soul I am free<br />
free from the corporate controlled curriculum<br />
and the testing companies that see me as<br />
their next subprime market<br />
and teachers who are desperate to keep me here<br />
so that tomorrow they will have a job<br />
and a country,<br />
the Land of the Free,<br />
where we voluntarily chain ourselves to<br />
the drone of consumerism<br />
<br />
The questions you are asking me<br />
will never lead me to the answers<br />
that I will need to find on my own<br />
about how to be a good person in a world<br />
where no one cares<br />
<br />
©2016-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-62899572405599787072016-01-02T13:19:00.000-05:002016-01-02T13:19:32.513-05:00new year 2016as the year starts<br />
i’m having my nose rubbed<br />
once again<br />
in the truth of life’s fragility<br />
and the truth of its tenaciousness<br />
as some friends await their<br />
firstborn child<br />
and others celebrate birthdays<br />
and one fights a cancer<br />
and one has left this earth<br />
what does it mean?<br />
what does any of it mean?<br />
did anyone “deserve” these things?<br />
does anyone deserve to live or die,<br />
be sick or be healthy?<br />
life<br />
and I really believe this<br />
does have meaning<br />
<br />
the hard part<br />
the part i am constantly learning<br />
over and over and over<br />
is that the meaning of life<br />
is what i make of it<br />
and that my meaning<br />
may not<br />
probably doesn’t<br />
equate with yours<br />
<br />
and that’s okay<br />
<br />
©2016-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-77192889676123933442015-05-08T11:48:00.000-04:002015-05-08T11:48:02.979-04:00hay(na)ku 05/08/15sometimes <br />
the silence<br />
can be deafening<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-38499101639229527282015-05-05T11:35:00.000-04:002015-05-07T06:43:53.141-04:00Lunchtime I open my lunch box.<br />
<br />
Inside I find a delicious sandwich<br />
Made with a special ingredient.<br />
<br />
No meal made by my own hands<br />
Could ever be the equal<br />
To one made for me with love.<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-25517601780749992112015-05-04T14:29:00.002-04:002015-05-04T14:29:20.840-04:00seventh gradersseventh graders<br />
frantic, hormonal<br />
talking, laughing, crying<br />
life's a roller coaster<br />
my kids<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-68318504107537687322015-04-30T10:59:00.000-04:002015-04-30T11:03:52.120-04:00Rondolet for HeatherYour lovely face<br />
Brings to my heart enormous joy<br />
Your lovely face<br />
Reminds me nothing can replace<br />
My very own Helen of Troy<br />
You are truly the real McCoy<br />
Your lovely face<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-40547672666900863442015-04-29T17:48:00.002-04:002015-04-29T17:48:47.322-04:00Late April InserviceWednesday, after school, an inservice class meets<br />in the library to talk about iPads.<br />Nervously, the anxious instructor smiles, greets<br />us, tries to put us at ease, knowing we've scads<br />of things we'd really rather be doing now.<br />It's spring, we're antsy, so she'll have to allow<br />for our fatigue--we're almost slap happy here--<br />as we learn new things that will help us--next year. <br />
<br />©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-11177911537933743212015-04-27T16:06:00.001-04:002015-04-27T16:06:38.371-04:00Grading PapersSitting alone in my room,<br />Grading papers after class.<br />Wanting desperately to give good grades,<br />
<br />
But knowing I will deal out fair grades.<br />The only way to give them growing room<br />When they all come back to class.<br />
<br />
And I know that tomorrow, in class, <br />When I hand them back their grades,<br />I'll have to motivate the room.<br />
<br />
"Class, remember, with revision there is room to raise your grades."<br />
<br />
<br />©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-16998165795095478602015-04-27T15:52:00.002-04:002015-04-27T15:52:58.960-04:00Looking for a MetaphorI thought <br />for a long time<br />that I was a catalyst.<br />I was there to speed up<br />and sometimes start<br />my students and their thinking.<br />A catalyst in chemical reactions<br />does that.<br />And I was proud of my metaphor.<br />Until...<br />Not being a science teacher, <br />I discovered my understanding <br />of a catalyst was flawed.<br />A catalyst does indeed start <br />and/or speed up a chemical reaction--<br />but in doing so,<br />it remains unchanged. <br />And after twenty-eight years of teaching<br />there is one thing I am sure of...<br />teaching all these kids has changed me.<br />So I think I need a different metaphor--<br />I am not the same person <br />who started this ride so long ago.<br />I am different in ways both good and bad<br />but there is no way<br />I could do this<br />and remain<br />unaffected. <br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-80679515533728862432015-04-25T20:31:00.002-04:002015-04-25T20:31:55.977-04:00haikuspringtime afternoon<br />
ducks gobbling strawberries<br />
dogs circle the fence<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-78890903531513162222015-04-25T20:23:00.000-04:002015-04-25T20:23:10.211-04:00untitledyour love<br />
is rain<br />
falling on my<br />
desiccated<br />
heart<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-90275675267813781802015-04-23T06:14:00.000-04:002015-04-23T06:14:04.587-04:00senryu sun shines through window<br />
illuminating the test<br />
but not the answers<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-80006724942512932892015-04-21T21:22:00.001-04:002016-03-07T12:20:23.532-05:00Be Careful What You Wish ForWhen the new kid came to class,<br />
All the others pointed and laughed.<br />
He wasn't dressed right, wasn't cool,<br />
It gave them the green light to be cruel.<br />
<br />
He really wasn't so different from the rest.<br />
But he became the butt of every jest<br />
With each giggle, laugh, guffaw,<br />
They magnified his every flaw,<br />
<br />
Until he could do nothing right.<br />
And all his days were fraught with fright.<br />
He knew whatever he'd do, he'd be wrong.<br />
He tried so hard to stay strong.<br />
<br />
But all he wanted was to fade away.<br />
Finally there came a day,<br />
When as he'd come did, he slunk into class,<br />
And no one tripped him--no one laughed.<br />
<br />
No one pointed or made a face,<br />
He felt his heart begin to race.<br />
Would they at last leave him alone?<br />
Too much to ask, he thought with a groan.<br />
<br />
But no one even looked at him,<br />
Soon it was time for class to begin.<br />
He sat in his seat as the teacher called roll,<br />
He tried to call, Present," but had no control.<br />
<br />
His voice was gone, not a sound came out,<br />
So he lifted his hand and waved it about.<br />
She called him once more, then moved on to the next,<br />
He put his hand down, and sat there, perplexed.<br />
<br />
She hadn't seen him, in fact no one had,<br />
Was this real happening, or had he gone mad?<br />
He got up from his seat, and walked up to her desk.<br />
The whole situation had become kafkaesque.<br />
<br />
She still didn't see him, or hear him at all,<br />
So he walked boldly into the hall.<br />
He went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.<br />
The truth, when he saw it, couldn't be clearer,<br />
<br />
He was invisible, and no one could hear him,<br />
His wish had been granted, but that didn't cheer him.<br />
More lonely than ever he ran from the school,<br />
He got what he wanted, he felt like a fool.<br />
<br />
He never returned; he never was found.<br />
The kids picked another for all to put down.<br />
<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-55215995522865999222015-04-20T22:11:00.000-04:002015-04-20T22:11:10.231-04:00Room 509my classroom<br />
after school<br />
teachers joking<br />
students leaving<br />
chairs on desks<br />
lights out<br />
resting<br />
planning<br />
grading<br />
ten months a year<br />
my second home<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-62564657482928629482015-04-19T23:08:00.002-04:002015-04-19T23:08:40.182-04:00haikutornado warning<br />
the skies look unthreatening<br />
but looks can deceive<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-63662254999209125792015-04-19T21:33:00.000-04:002015-04-19T21:33:30.925-04:00test weekwasting my time<br />
spinning my wheels<br />
another week gone<br />
unnecessary stress<br />
test week 2015<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-46545436412761985182015-04-19T21:25:00.002-04:002015-04-19T21:25:44.753-04:00empty wallsempty walls<br />
posters taken down<br />
so boring<br />
desolate<br />
testing takes priority<br />
over teaching kids<br />
<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-24064719626984987872015-04-16T23:58:00.001-04:002015-04-17T00:07:43.728-04:00Uh-oh...I love my Christmas presents;<br />
They're exactly what I wanted.<br />
Each and every one is just what I preferred.<br />
<br />
Mom and Dad got all these presents.<br />
And they decided where to hide them.<br />
Luckily for me, I overheard.<br />
<br />
So now I have one giant problem,<br />
With my brand new Christmas presents:<br />
I opened them December Twenty-third.<br />
<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-13235219928553030182015-04-15T23:53:00.002-04:002015-04-15T23:53:41.104-04:00randomness: four senryu<br />
i reach for the words<br />
which skitter-scatter away<br />
playing hide and seek<br />
<br />
<br />
the noise in my head<br />
could drown out a hurricane--<br />
wait--what did you say?<br />
<br />
<br />
almost the last page<br />
can't wait to finish the book--<br />
wish it were longer<br />
<br />
<br />
turtle crossing road<br />
macadam almost melting--<br />
somebody help him!<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-736427139165893189.post-80495805118571271052015-04-14T22:33:00.002-04:002015-04-14T22:33:55.541-04:00IcarusPapa,<br />
You just don't understand.<br />
You never did,<br />
for all you are a genius.<br />
The genius.<br />
You understand the architecture of engineering.<br />
You understand mechanics and rudimentary physics.<br />
Your knowledge of the physical world is unparalleled.<br />
<br />
But Papa,<br />
me--<br />
your only child,<br />
your only son--<br />
you don't know me at all.<br />
<br />
You made me those wings<br />
and you warned me,<br />
"Don't fly too high, my son. The heat will melt the wax"<br />
<br />
But how high is too high?<br />
With you there is an exact number.<br />
All I can do is wing it.<br />
<br />
How can I remain low and lowly<br />
when you have given me the means to soar?<br />
I feel the joy and the freedom.<br />
I can't pretend I don't.<br />
<br />
I refuse to pretend I don't.<br />
<br />
How could you not know<br />
merely by putting the idea in my head,<br />
that I would have to try it?<br />
<br />
You didn't know, though.<br />
People are a mystery to you.<br />
I am a mystery to you.<br />
<br />
Up I go.<br />
<br />
You were right, of course.<br />
I fly too close to the golden chariot.<br />
The wax melts.<br />
The feathers molt.<br />
And a new sensation comes to me.<br />
<br />
In your head you can do the math;<br />
you can tell how fast I'm falling.<br />
You know how hard I'll hit.<br />
<br />
What I know is the joy of soaring.<br />
The laughter of exuberance.<br />
I know that the wind screaming past me<br />
causes my blood to rush through my veins.<br />
And rushing to the waves below,<br />
I scream with the wind,<br />
not in fear, but in defiance!<br />
<br />
Do not be sad, Papa.<br />
Do not blame yourself.<br />
I don't.<br />
I thank you.<br />
You gave me choice.<br />
One I made willingly.<br />
I love you.<br />
Good-bye.<br />
<br />
<br />
©2015-Art BelliveauArt Belliveauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00869229920071975552noreply@blogger.com0