Morning Fog
Chill early morning.
Fog hovers over the lake…
soft, enveloping,
a cocoon of solitude
gives birth to glorious day!
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl Batavia
Morning Fog
Author / Cheryl Batavia
New Era of Optimism
New Era of Optimism
New leader chosen…
New era of empathy,
integrity, and truth.
New rule of law,
new dawn of democracy…
Call for unity.
Quell the violence.
Preserve the environment.
End the pandemic.
Rejoin the global family
in achieving common goals.
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl Batavia
Joe Biden was declared President-Elect of The United States of America today, 10/7/20. Inauguration Day is 1/20/21.
Grandma
Grandma
Our Grandma, Frances Ellen Tustin,
had to babysit, so she left after two years of school.
She had learned to read! She used that skill
to educate herself and lived her life to the full.
At twelve, Grandma worked as a hotel maid.
Married at seventeen, she had two sons.
She and Grandpa worked hard to support
their family during the Great Depression.
Our grandparents moved a lot, flipping houses.
Grandma wallpapered, painted, and plastered.
The last house they renovated was her childhood
home, using all the skills they had mastered.
Grandma lived there for more than thirty years,
raising chickens, planting grapes and fruit trees.
She grew asparagus, strawberries, and flowers,
and cultivated her garden into her eightees.
Grandma decorated her home with hooked rugs,
handmade quilts, and afghans she crocheted.
Her grandchildren were always proud
to wear the beautiful clothes she made.
Cooking in restaurants and caring for the sick…
Grandma had many jobs over the years.
She was a long-time Sunday school teacher
who had earned the respect of her peers.
We always ate well at Grandma’s house…
Everybody loved her black walnut cinnamon buns!
Grandma fed us chicken cacciatore and cookies.
We gathered eggs in the henhouse. That was fun!
In summer, Grandma gave strawberries
to friends and neighbors and made strawberry pies.
A huge bowl of strawberries waited for us at
Grandma’s. We couldn’t eat them all, but we tried!
The Raggedy Ann and Andy Dolls Grandma made
were in demand at local gift shops.
The dolls she made for her great grandchildren
were always loved a lot!
Most of my generation wanted to be like Grandma.
Great granddaughters, and great nieces, too,
are named “Frances” or “Ellen” or “Tustin,”
a gentle reminder: Be known by the good works you do.
Reprinted from Life in Inspiring Places
Copyright© 2019 by Cheryl Batavia
Two Armadillo Poems: Armadillo Neighbors/ Armadillo Territory
Armadillo Neighbors
We lived near the beach
with armadillo neighbors
…not too neighborly!
At night, they dug grubs,
leaving holes and piles of poop…
We never saw them!
We filled holes, scooped scat.
They gnawed watermelon rinds
we left out to dry.
One evening at dusk,
I saw two dark shapes walking
along the hedgerow.
As I got closer,
I saw they were not raccoons…
Yes, armadillos!
They scooped out a den,
lived under our shed, eating
watermelon rinds.
One day they were gone.
We never met their children…
There were no goodbyes!
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl Batavia
Armadillo Territory
Armadillo Territory
Our new neighborhood
is wooded…armadillo
home territory!
Out walking one day,
I met three armadillos
digging up breakfast.
They were cute, half-grown.
I stood there chatting with them…
They never looked up.
Recently, I saw
an armadillo stroll by,
armor slick with rain.
Undisturbed, he walked
along the edge of our yard
and into the woods.
One day I followed
a busy armadillo
all around our yard.
She went on eating,
politely ignoring me,
as she fed on ants.
She did not fear me…
No one shoots armadillos
around here, I guess!
That night and the next,
the armadillo dug dens
and abandoned them.
Armadillo’s gone!
House hunting in the woods?
We said no goodbyes…
An armadillo digs its way
into your heart.
Maybe she’ll be back!
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl Batavia
Fright
Fright
Masked monsters and ghouls
brought no fear last Halloween…
Now, fear grips us all!
Now it’s the unmasked
we fear at the food market…
Covid’s stalking us!
Oooooooooh! wear your mask in public!
Eeeeeeek! Keep six feet betweeeeen us!
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl Batavia
For a nostalgic Halloween poem read, “Ghosts of Halloweens Past/Ghosts of Halloween Present” if you missed it.
Scary statistic: a recent study found that 20% of grocery store clerks have undiagnosed Covid19 without symptoms and are capable of spreading the disease.
The Benefit of the Doubt
The following poem may be disturbing to some readers. The examples given are fictional.
Some people seem to have everything we want and don’t have. We might not be eager to change places with them if we knew their secret heartaches.
Many people have problems we don’t know about that would explain their negative behavior. Some may need professional help in solving their problems. Others could benefit from just a little kindness and understanding. Judging them isn’t helpful.
Although people must be held accountable for their actions, some circumstances call for a little leniency. Everyone accused of a crime deserves due process.
The Benefit of the Doubt
Give everyone you encounter
the benefit of the doubt.
You don’t know all their circumstances,
and maybe you’ll never find out!
The woman who wears too much makeup
may be trying to hide
bumps and bruises inflicted
by her drunken husband last night.
That student who sleeps in school
may have spent the night
listening to his mother and her boyfriend
have a knock-down, drag-out fight.
That girl who weighs too much
may be comforting herself with food
over nightmares of childhood abuse,
and diets don’t do any good.
The boy who robbed the liquor store
has never harmed a fly.
He may be raising money for treatments
and hoping his mother won’t die.
That guy who brews your coffee
may be sleeping in his car
and feeding an addiction that takes
all he earns at the coffee bar.
The man who hanged himself
maybe hadn’t figured out yet
any way to repay the bookie
an overdue gambling debt.
Give everyone you encounter
the benefit of the doubt.
You don’t know all their circumstances,
and maybe you’ll never find out.
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl Batavia
Gandhi, Hitler, a Book, & Dog/God by da-AL plus Cheryl Batavia’s poem
“The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.” — supposedly Mahatma Gandhi said that. (Isn’t this picture of him great? He’s drafting a document at Birla House, Mumbai, August 1942. My novel-writer side can’t help but wonder if he knew that writing longhand enhances creativity — and I bet intelligence!) First off, he didn’t….
By Kanu Gandhi – gandhiserve.org, Public Domain.
Second off, if anyone said it, is it true? I love animals and have followed a vegetarian diet for years. All the same, I’m definitely nowhere near a saint, particularly given my now-and-again deviations into the hypocracy of eating fish. My father was wicked to his family, yet tears rolled down his cheeks when he heard that local geese were slaughtered. Hitler and was a vegetarian for the last part of his life. And he adored his dog…
View original post 974 more words
The $5 Challenge
The $5 Challenge
I heard the stories as a child…
of Dad skipping school and running wild,
breaking the ice to go for a swim.
Skunky smell emanating from him…
sent home or banished to the hall.
Given his grades for playing basketball.
Joined the Navy by lying about his age,
used the GI Bill to go to college.
Dad wasn’t much help with study skills,
but he gave me an incentive of a five-dollar bill
for earning straight “A”s…a perfect report card.
In my sophomore year, I tried really hard!
By dropping my hated typing class,
I thought I could get all “A”s at last!
But the honor roll with a “B” or two
just seemed to be the best I could do.
The quest became a pain in the neck,
and to this day, I still hunt and peck.
The next two years, until graduation,
I focused on directing my own education.
I abandoned chasing grades…No “busy work” for me!
There were books to be read as far as the eye could see!
After that, I took art class seriously
and sketched my teacher in trigonometry.
Like my father before me, banished to the hall,
I read a book and didn’t mind at all.
I was multitasking in trigonometry…
Figuring that out, my teacher tolerated me!
Moved to the back of the room, not banished to the hall…
I sat drawing, learning, and having a ball!
My history teacher was a boring jock!
Outline the chapter?…I think he was in shock
that my outline was heads and subheads. My grades slid,
but I got an education despite the rude things I did.
No “busy work,” copying sentences in grammar!
Zeros hurt my grades, but it didn’t matter…
I scored high on tests, so my grades were okay.
No offense, teachers…Just trying to find my way!
Married at eighteen, then job and family.
Night school part-time at twenty-six…I was ready!
At the beginning of each quarter, I always asked,
“What do I have to do to get an ‘A’ in your class?”
After all the drama, I finally had my four-point-oh…
Dad’s offer had expired…five dollars was a “no show!”
At forty, I graduated and consecutively
started teaching and earning my masters degree.
Like my father before me, I say, “Don’t do as I do!”
Educating yourself is essential, but grades are important too!
Dad went back to school after I was grown.
He earned five doctorates…Who could have known?
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl Batavia
Word to the Wise
If you are a student, please don’t do as I did! Or as my father did, either! Find the balance between earning good grades and educating yourself about the things you want to know. Take it from someone who learned the hard way…Grades and following your interests are both important!
Remember to be kind to your teachers. Karma may get you if you are rude to them! As a teacher in inner city schools, I got back a little bit of what was coming to me. So, if you are ever tempted to give your teachers a hard time, remember my advice, and don’t go there!
The Joke & the Divine
The Joke & the Divine
Young Mary told a naughty joke…
The Reverend heard her as she spoke.
In stern rebuke, he raised his hand,
with eloquence gave reprimand,
and when that great Divine had done,
he walked away and stood alone…
He thought upon her clever wit,
and, quite unholy, laughed a bit.
He bowed his head in bitter shame…
and then, poor man, he laughed again!
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl Batavia
This poem was written when I was in high school, about 1966. I remembered it when I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t go back to sleep. I am not sure whether my father, who was a minister, was pleased when I teased him by writing this poem. However, he may well have laughed about it when I was not around! He did have a sense of humor.
Great Discoveries of Love
Great Discoveries of Love
Like Galileo looking at stars and planets
through his telescope,
I see the light in your eyes.
Just as dinosaur bones are found
buried in rock strata,
we discover a love as old as time.
Like Gregor Mendel’s
cross-pollinated peas,
our love is expressed in varied colors.
Just as Leeuwenhoek found the miracle
of microscopic life in pond water,
we find life’s wonders in ordinary things.
As cosmonaut Valentina Tereskova
explored outer space,
we explore the inner spaces of our minds.
Like the “forty-niners”
mining for gold in California,
I find my treasures in your heart.
As Gandhi changed the world
through nonviolent means,
we live in peace.
As Florence Nightingale
made hospitals survivable,
we take care of each other.
Oil from wells in Titusville
brought new energy to the world,
Likewise, you energize me.
Like Jaques Cousteau,
diving deep into the oceans,
we explore the depths of feeling.
As Sir Edmund Hillary’s expedition
climbed to the peak of Everest,
we climb the heights of inspiration.
Even as Pompeii
was buried by Vesuvius,
we will soon be buried.
I hope, when we are discovered
under the ash and hardened lava,
I will still be holding your hand.
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl Batavia
