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Kim Irvine Poem
Teaching by Immersion
(A poem for my dad…)
When I was young
On the tiny island of Tonga
My dad taught me to swim
“Swim”
He said as he threw me
From the back of the boat
As the water closed
Over my head
I felt
Free
I wasn’t afraid
I knew I could hold my breath
until someone above panicked
and
my dad would crash
into the water and lift me into the sun
I don’t remember ever
Being taught how to swim
I simply remember waiting
Calmly
In the blue green blur
For my dad
And
The sun…
Copyright © Kim Irvine | Year Posted 2009
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Kim Irvine Poem
Potty Training and Capitalism
“My Bobbie was potty trained by 13 months”
The wicked lady drawled
As she cast a sideways glance
My direction
The glance
~was noted!
My 2 year old daughter toddled around
The palpable silence
Conspicuously diapered
My wounded motherhood
Bled silently
As I vowed to the sky,
“…as God is my witness
My daughter will be trained!!!”
I worked
Begged
Bribed
Spanked
Threatened
But,
Potty Training is a Myth!!!
And…
when she finally
decided
magically
the diapers disappeared
only because she wanted the cool pull-ups
on TV
Two points for capitalism
And motherhood loses in overtime…
As I smiled slyly
When my second daughter was born
And waited patiently
For the TV to work its magic…
I’m not a bad mother,
I’m just a devoted capitalist!
Copyright © Kim Irvine | Year Posted 2009
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Kim Irvine Poem
My ’65 Rambler
in 1979
i learned to drive in a
1965 turquoise rambler
three on the tree
cracked, dusty leather
smelling like an old fisherman’s boot
the sun spotlighted that car
bouncing off of the irreverent turquoiseness
wherever I went
like a giant florescent highlighter
hanging above my head
most of the prayers in my life
were made fervently in that car…
Please, God
don’t let anyone see me in this heap
Until
One day
I discovered
Exactly what 365 horses
Could do…
And suddenly
I was cool
Faaaast and cool
And always
First.
Copyright © Kim Irvine | Year Posted 2009
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Kim Irvine Poem
When I Run, I break the Sound Barrier
Moving through stagnant space
The world’s inertia pulls against my rebelling figure
Frantically trying to impede my speed
My ears
Fill with the rhythmic wind
Of my breath
My blood racing life to
My extremes
I can’t hear…
my mother
my students
my ex
I can’t hear
my failures
my insecurities
my problems
I see only the road
Create only sweat
Race only myself
My goal--
Hedonistic Exhilaration
as the barriers
Explode
Copyright © Kim Irvine | Year Posted 2009
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Kim Irvine Poem
Bleeding Out
I stuff the holes in my soul
Like a sinking ship
The places where you bleed out of me
Smokey memories rising
Curling between my everyday thoughts
I’m losing you quietly…
Slowly…
Two souls joined briefly
within a single beat.
The syncopation
of a tiny rhythm
Then, filled my ears
with the possibilities of life
and left me breathless
One flesh
Until…
The fragile life expelled
in blood and pain
Severing…
Choreographing independence
in each breath
dancing a spiral away from my warmth
leaving me
churning with worry
breathless again,
but, now with fear
for you..
all the while you…
Grasping at counterfeit reflections
Sparkling, beckoning…
Masking the cruel edge…
of the abyss
Copyright © Kim Irvine | Year Posted 2009
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Kim Irvine Poem
8th Grade High
Watching confusion morph into understanding
Hits my veins and feeds my insistent craving…
A rush…
Taking “I don’t get it” to “wow, that’s cool!”
Is a psychedelic kaleidoscope of emotion
Unparalleled by any other
Blissful euphoria reigns when 8th graders make statements like:
“Vocabulary is sweet because then I can insult grown ups without them knowing it!”
what a kick!
What perspective and honest insight!
As the English language becomes a friendly tool instead of a frightening task-master,
I can see the transition echoed in clear, youthful eyes,
I am complete
And very high…
When literature sets the guts of eighth graders aflame
Because I lit the fire
I’m buzzing
High…
I don’t create foreign policy
I don’t legislate new laws
I can’t cure cancer
And I’m not a philosopher…
I am an addict
I am hooked
I inject my words into their heads
And ride the wave of empowerment
As I search desperately
For my next fix.
Copyright © Kim Irvine | Year Posted 2009
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Kim Irvine Poem
Teaching With Magic
-for Clelia
“Reach down into your soul
and write it in blood.”
I told them.
“Poetry
is liquid emotion
flowing on the page
through the elegant ritual
of language…”
I explained
“When you take the risk
of exposing your soul
you will touch other souls…”
I promised
and then…
I held my breath…
and worried
as all teachers do…
that I had gone too far
promised too much
But then…
the magic filled the air and the student wrote…
filling the void
with tearful words of pain
splendid imagery
and brilliant voice
weaving a mystical tapestry of words
magically changing the world
and transforming the teacher
into the student!
Copyright © Kim Irvine | Year Posted 2009
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