Friday, February 3, 2017

February Daily Poetry Project - February 2

I was so kindly invited to join the 5th Annual February Daily Poem Project, an event started by Laura Shovan, a fabulous poet, fellow Sweet Sixteener, and friend. This year, the group of poets (that is growing daily!) takes turns pulling 10 words from an article, and then we each incorporate those words into a poem. We can alter the form of the words if creativity begs for it, and we can opt to leave one or more words out. However, we strive for complete inclusion of the chosen words or sometimes, phrases.

Today, I'm sharing my poem from February 2 pulled from this NPR article.

The 10 words used are:



She was a quiet one, would simply
bite her tongue when, on occasion,
they made notice and poked fun
at her old clothes, her crookedly cut hair,
her frequent lack of hygienic care.
She’d heard of Dylan Klebold,
Adam Lanza. She knew
of James Holmes’s movie
theater spree. All these, media lore.
And so she bore a plan,
though not Messiah-driven,
just a simple shake to be given
to those elite shareholders of the
school’s worldview.

She drew.

A Sharpie in an empty hall,
she started with Colleen Kluer
hidden in a bathroom stall, and upon
her locker, she sketched the tale,
the events that went beyond the flush,
the shady business made -- ten pills
for Colleen’s monetary trade.

Then on Jordan Stanveer’s desk,
her hand drawn down Brent Wickhab’s pants,
as our quiet girl had stumbled on it,
just by chance, though everyone
clearly knows, Brent is Kallie Harlow’s.

That afternoon on into night, she hid in shadows,
struck with might, drew those indiscretions,
thought safe and secret, she took
protections and she twisted,  
because, though quiet, she still existed,
a witness to dishonest acts – their truth
her power for all she’d been through.

And when they dragged her from the school,
set to book and to fine her, she smiled,
knowing this would now define her. She
waved to onlookers, some who cheered
for they had also been harassed and jeered.

And now our girl is myth, she’s lore,
her lesson forever drawn to clear;
it is the quiet ones who rise, who dare,
lest you forget they’re even there.

Graphic source: