Tuesday, November 7, 2023

Some See Red Over The Color Red


By Charles Osgood
The custom has been for schoolteachers to correct student papers in red, to point out mistakes with red pencil or red ink. But In many schools now, we're told teachers are being told not to mark papers with red ink because red upsets the children. Red is too stressful too "in your face." Joseph Foriska, the principal of Thaddeus Stevens Elementary School in Pittsburgh, for example has instructed his teachers to grade with colors featuring more ''pleasant feeling tones." so that their instructional messages do not come across and derogatory or demeaning.
In many schools today it's said
teachers should not grade in red.
Red is too negative they say.
In the context of today
with too much student stress resulting
to them red seems downright insulting.
And we don't want their feelings hurt
with red as in a "red alert"
"High risk of terrorist attack."
The kids might be taken aback.
What color then should teachers use?
Purple is now what many choose
or blue. Some educators think
Turquoise, Fuchsia, sky blue, pink.
Almost anything instead
of that old nasty color red.
Red ink now means losing money,
a prospect no one thinks is funny.
They say it has nothing to do
with politics, red states or blue.
But some, I'm sure, will now suspect
that what's politically correct
has some political content,
though they deny that's what is meant.
But simply to remove the dread.
They say some people have of red.
Do you recall when it was said
in the cold war “Better dead than red?
Roses are red, violets are blue
I don't fear roses though, do you?”

Monday, October 30, 2023

The Summer Day


By Mary Oliver


Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean--
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down --
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?

Monday, October 23, 2023

EACH OF US HAS A NAME

Each of us has a name
given by God
and given by our parents

Each of us has a name
given by our stature and our smile
and given by what we wear

Each of us has a name
given by the mountains
and given by our walls

Each of us has a name
given by the stars
and given by our neighbors

Each of us has a name
given by our sins
and given by our longing

Each of us has a name
given by our enemies
and given by our love

Each of us has a name
given by our celebrations
and given by our work

Each of us has a name
given by the seasons
and given by our blindness

Each of us has a name
given by the sea
and given by
our death.

© Translation: 2004, Marcia Lee Falk
From: The Spectacular Difference

The Arrow and the Song

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

PS - Honored and humbled that a dear friend said this sounded like I wrote it!

Sunday, July 16, 2023

 https://twitter.com/brian_bilston/status/1566693130996514817

From Blossoms

BY LI-YOUNG LEE

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward   
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into   
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

Monday, July 3, 2023

The Toucan

by Shel Silverstein

Tell me who can
Catch a toucan?
Lou can.

Just how few can
Ride the toucan?
Two can.

What kind of goo can
Stick you to the toucan?
Glue can.

Who can write some
More about the toucan?
You can!