What was your favorite subject in school? Any school, any grade, write about what piqued your interest whenever that was.
THE CHURCH HISTORIAN
I love to peruse the old histories
whilst trying to solve some old mysteries
about cardinals and popes
who must think us all dopes
about murders in papal consistories.
Your humor is smart and courageous
while bordering on the outrageous.
Your intelligent, sir,
and a verse connoisseur,
and your limericks this month are contagious!
HA! “You’re” UGH! 😀
great reply, Marie!
😀 Thanks Candy!
I’m lovin’ these limericks!
Agreed. These are great, Bill, Marie.
Math and Literature
All through school, math and literature
became my equally favorite subjects.
I perceived math as puzzles, for fun.
Only, when it came to applying algebra,
trigonometry, geometry and calculus,
I was fairly clueless. When was the last
time I worked an algebra problem?
Like math, I loved literature and read all
the stories before being assigned them.
The difference is that literature has become
important to me, an integral part of who I am.
I like this a lot, Connie.
I can also relate, in part. I was mostly a straight A student, but algebra got the best of me. I took it every year from 8th grade through my senior year of high school, trying to “get it.” I never did.
I hear you. At some point, math seemed pointless. Give me a good book anyday!
I sympathize, albeit a friend once told me that he could get more information from a set of equations than from pages of English.
Literature is a big part of you Connie! Go figure!😃
CREATIVE WRITING, by Walter J Wojtanik
We came from all walks,
volunteers in self-discovery,
elective enrollees for the cause
of poetry and the like.
At the door he stood,
animated and quirky,
highly smirky in a
Dick Cavett sort of way.
Much to say for the honor
of poetic verse, practicing
without a license, suffice it
to say, the man had a way.
A disembodied beat poet,
a diminutive sort, of sorts,
surrounded by we neophyte
Abandon was reckless; inspired,
all wired crossly, delving for muse
where even bravado refused to go,
and no show was complete
without a silent cheer. The milieu
expressed and implied; the bold, the shy,
the “Superfly”, some people looking for a pass,
and even with us, he showed no class.
Patrick Porter was our liege,
lost in the siege of modern thought,
what man hath wrought was dealt with
promptly, sparking the flint, hoping
to catch the tinder of ideas;
into a conflagration unbridled.
Mired now in aleatory, only telling
half the story. A curiosity piqued,
and a genre explored, self-expression
with no convention, all but for the lead
of a steady pulse. Where pathos, pith
and schmaltz met for a good time.
Embroiled in rhyme and a well worded verse,
we could have done worse with another mentor.
Verbal barbs fired and a musical
based on “The Exorcist” was truly inspired.
But the group and the place stay close to heart,
for such was my poetic start.
Watching as the sacred cows would fall,
Creative writing, just down the hall.
Oh my word do I love this. Apparently, the anesthesia didn’t slow your brain or creativity, Walt. WOW!
I totally agree!
Thanks all. That’s where I honed my powers of observation long before I knew what to do with them.
I was lazy today – don’t have a clue how to spell French or Italian and didn’t want to bother with a ton of special characters. But I loved studying languages in school.
Me gusta aprender y
Me gustan los lenguas lo mas.
Parlez-vous francais? Non.
Nitch spreckingtze deutsch
Pero hablo un “poquito” Espanol
De “A” a “Zed”
Cuando hablo, le habla “blah, blah, blah”
Y los numbres; uno, dos, tres, hasta la diez
El dia de la Semana? Sabado.
Espanol y Ingles son similar.
I love to learn and
I love languages the most.
Do you speak French? No
Nor do you speak German.
I understand Portuguese
But I speak a “little” Spanish
From A to Z..
When I speak, it sounds like “blah, blah, blah.”
And the numbers, one, two, three, to ten
The day of the week? Saturday, the Sabbath.
Spanish and English are similar.
If this is lazy, I cannot imagine when you are totally “on your game.” Excellent!
Well put, no matter the language.
Enjoyed this, Darlene!
FAVRIT SKOOL SUBJEK?
I just aint tellin
I wont cunfess
but it wernt spellin
as yoo mite gess,
and it wernt histery,
siense n stuff.
It aint no mistery
skool wuz tuff!
You gots a way with wirds, eww dew!
Grin, grin, grin!!!
I don’t know if anyone else has had the pleasure to experience going to a one-room schoolhouse, but just in case…..
One Room Memories
The first day I walked inside I saw my older brother
way back in the corner with the older children.
He was in the third grade; I was only in the first
Mrs. Bradley sat at the front behind a giant desk
high up on a platform two steps above our desks.
She was our teacher; our only teacher
for grades one through four.
Throughout the day she would shift from one class
to the other, but we’d all get to listen in to the
lessons everyone got. I learned a lot that year.
A lot more than I thought I would.
So did the other six in my grade.
Our one room schoolhouse was back in the woods,
set on top of a hill at the corner of two dirt roads
We had a pot belly stove in the back that the
fourth graders kept blazing during the long
cold winter months. And it got really cold.
The boys had a one-holer for a toilet.
No running water way out there, just a pail
filled each morning for us to wash our hands.
Someone told me the girls had s two-holer
in their toilet. Now that I’m older I understand why
For two years I went to that school and
learned a lot listening to all the lessons
that everyone could hear.
Mrs. Bradley gave us little prizes
when we won spelling bees or
on special days like birthdays.
I had a blue cup that had googily eyes
that would spin around whenever I drank from it.
I won it for correctly spelling ‘picnic’
I loved that googily eyed cup
Mrs. Bradley didn’t go out for recesses.
She would stay at her desk and talk to us.
One day she taught me to play dominoes.
I can still remember those dominoes;
black with white dots and rippled sides
to make them easy to pick up and
put down where they belonged.
I think she let me win while I was learning,
but not after ‘cause we all need to learn to lose
with dignity and honor. She love dignity and honor.
At the end of second grade Mrs. Bradley announced
that the one-room schoolhouse would be closing its
doors for the last time and we’d all be bussed to the
next town where we’d all have our own classroom
with just kids in our own grade.
That made me sad that I wouldn’t be at this old
one-room schoolhouse anymore, and it made me
sad that Mrs. Bradley wouldn’t be my teacher.
I’ll never forget those days.
They were wonderful.
© 2019 Earl Parsons
What a great memory!
Wow. I wonder how many in the U.S. share memories of a one-room schoolhouse. Especially folks as young as you!
My wife did. Loved it, too.
A great recollection, Earl!
She surely must have been clutching
A tiny book – the day she was born
She loved to listen to her father
Read stories – as a toddler
Summer school for extra
Reading assignments – as a child
Reading light above her bed
To finish one more chapter – as a teen
Stories before bedtime was
The routine – as a mother
Packed a book with her lunch
And kept a spare in the car – when she worked
Reading any time of day or
Long into the night – she’s retired
A true book lover. Love this, Candy!
Read and write on, Candace!
English get the prize.
bring them on. No numbers please.
My eyes glaze over.
Right there with you in the eye glazing department. Numbers? Nope.
This is a good number, though.
Ha! Thanks, William.
Funny how people of words choose literature. We are what we come from!
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Poetic Bloomings: The Best Garden for Verse