NaPoWriMo 4/30/09

time races by

like water over a falls

rushing inexorably

down stream

into the future

the currents and eddies

obscured by mists

and the cacophony 

of collision

where past and future

jostle and slam together

whirling around each other

mingling to create 

the present moment

where I float

helpless as a swirling twig

©2009-Art Belliveau

NaPoWriMo 4/29/09

The Response Given to Me by My Sweet Young Daughter, Molly, When I Suggested that We Spend a Little Time Together in the Afternoon Engaged in Recreational Activities with Each Other

Play? Yay!

©2009-Art Belliveau

NaPoWriMo 4/28/09

He Had a Choice

from where we sit
on this side of history
the outcome seems
inevitable

of course He had to do it
of course He had no choice
if He refused (which He couldn’t)
we would all be doomed

but that diminishes
what He did--takes away
from the real power
of his sacrifice

when He was arrested
He could have walked away
or struck them blind
or simply disappeared

when He was tried
He could have performed
wonders and miracles
to prove to them who He was

when He was beaten
He could have healed immediately
or remained impervious to
their whips and thorns

when carrying the cross
he did not have to stumble
feel pain
endure the scorn and curses

when nailed to the tree
He did not have to feel pain
He did not have to feel his lungs burn for air
He could have stopped it with a word

He did not have to die
on a cross
naked and humiliated
while His mother looked on--helpless

as fully God
His sacrifice was necessary
to redeem the world
and let us all enter home

but He was also fully human
filled with doubt and fear
filled with pain and shame
knowing He did not have to endure

we know how it ended
He died and rose again
He sacrificed all for us
but it was never forgone

He had a choice

©2009-Art Belliveau

NaPoWriMo 4/27/09

The Home Stretch

Looking at the calander.
Looking at the clock.
Looking out the window.
Looking down the block.

Waiting for the summer.
Waiting for the end.
Waiting for the last school day;
It’s right around the bend.

Less than four weeks left now.
It’s shorter every day.
The students are excited--
Want to leave without delay.

The students all are restless.
That you can’t ignore.
They are ready for vacation--
We teachers are ready more!

©2009-Art Belliveau

NaPoWriMo 4/26/09

Bike Ride

an April Alabama afternoon
one that will fade in your memory
blend in with so many others
but a special day for me

pale blue sky overhead
like an inverted china bowl
the gray macadam of
the deserted elementary school
parking lot
spread out before us

to the left a baseball field
a father and sun at batting practice
sweating and laughing in
the afternoon’s heat

to the right Woodland Drive
cars occasionally humming by
quiet for a while
one or two
then spurts
then quiet again
no apparent pattern

I set up a camp chair
under the covered walkway
the red brick of the school
behind me
a cool breeze blowing
keeping me comfy
in the shade

you ride your bike
finally

the flatness of the empty lot
calls to you in a way
our slanted street
never has

this is your first extended ride
and you go to the far end of the
L-shaped lot
never even looking back
free and happy on your bike

you wobble on a turn
and my stomach drops
i know if you go over
there is no way for me
to catch you

it will take too long
to reach you
to hold you
to comfort you

but you recover
look back at me
and wave
overjoyed
at riding that bike

and I know
although I do not want to know
although it hurts to know

this is how it will always be
you going off on your adventures
testing the boundaries
of freedom
taking chances
I cannot save you from

and I am hit
emotionally
viciously
with a truth
a truth that
I had known
intellectually
for some time

letting you grow
letting you go
is now
and will always be
the hardest part
of fatherhood

©2009-Art Belliveau

NaPoWriMo 4/25/09

When you carry a burden all alone
Its weight crushes down like a cornerstone
Squeezing out your soul’s last breath
And making living feel like death

When you share your burden with your friends
This crushing feeling finally ends
Away ebbs the hurt, away ebbs the strife
And slowly you can get on with your life

©2009-Art Belliveau

NaPoWriMo 4/24/09

ninety tomorrow
and it is only April
what happened to spring?

©2009-Art Belliveau

NaPoWriMo 4/23/09

I sit to write another poem
My inspiration's gone
It really is too late at night
And I will wake 'fore dawn

But I have made myself a vow
To write one every day
Since I didn't vow to make them all good
Now to bed I'll away

©2009-Art Belliveau

NaPoWriMo 4/22/09

as the other students in the class
chat in quiet amiability while
working on their writing project
these young ladies just sat and talked
their volume rising slowly
almost imperceptibly
but steadily nonetheless

if they are going to refuse to work
why can't they at least do it quietly
like the ones who sleep so soundly
through the class every single day

but no
they insist on sitting there
publicly emoting to each other
the dramas of their lives
and their day at school

(and
to be honest
some of them do indeed
live through a great deal of real drama
too much to contend with
at their young age)

i wrestle with myself
as i observe them
heat slowly rising
in my face
in lockstep with
their increasing volume

i could do something
proactive
to make them quiet down
i could get up
and just sit near them
make them nervous
tenth graders detest
a teacher's propinquity

but my stomach is roiling
and jumping inside me
feels like i've been
repeatedly gut-punched
should have stayed home
but felt obligated
to come and teach them

most students are working
or at least appearing to
knowing that negative attention
lowers their grades
just these four loud talkers
inconsiderately interfering
with everyone's thought processes

so i reach to my left
and grab for the stack
of preprinted forms
ones i have prepared for
just such an occasion
and fill out detentions
for my chatty friends

see you all soon

©2009-Art Belliveau

NaPoWriMo 4/22/09

Happy B-day to my good friend Ryk
Long ago our friendship did click
He's easy to talk to--
Though too far to walk to--
And so this poem, which mainly is shtick

©2009-Art Belliveau