Saying Goodbye
Since July, I have been teaching English to one of the nicest Japanese guys I have ever met. I have so enjoyed teaching him and having the opportunity in this way to re-connect with Japan. Last week was our last lesson together and I wrote the following right after. He will most certainly be missed…
Saying Goodbye – by Nathalie Vachon
Today was our last lesson. Book 4, Side by Side, Tag questions. This tea is good, isn’t it? You like Japan, Don’t you? This has been great, hasn’t it? I’m going to miss you, aren’t I? We focus on the lessons; I correct, help with pronunciation. But on this day, this last lesson I had to stay focused. Focus on the letters, the way the words roll off the tongue. Laugh at the mispronunciation of puppy (not poopy). Review present continuous. Take note of how I explain things with my hands. Remind him how we use ‘a’ the first time we mention something and ‘the’ the second time. A lion escaped from the zoo. The lion was captured.
The Yellow House on the Hill
The yellow house on the hill had a wrap-around porch had a screen door with a spring on it that snapped back pushing you into the house before you knew what hit you
There were art projects on the walls Rae Ellen’s tunnel; a lump of clay painted black the dark space of the inside of the tunnel there were toys scattered on old Moroccan carpets a chalkboard beneath the stairs Van Morrison on the CD player windows open breezes always flowing
There were piles of dishes in the sink left over from last night but not to worry, there were better things to do
Don’t Have Carrots
By Nathalie Vachon
i saw the moon in you i saw the sea in your heart the pounding the night you woke me up at 2am or was it 3 to say your heart hurt you didn’t want to alarm me so at first you said it was your stomach then told me it was your heart the pounding in your chest, an ogre’s heart inside a baby’s body too big for your ribs, you felt it pressing and pounding a sea, asia, africa, celtic sea salt of sea dreams under the covers under the roof of OUR house you ache and fear that i will be panicked by the news i turn on the light we drive in hap-hazard clothes, mismatched socks and coats to emergency the sea in me rising like a heron like a call like a loon on Friday
across my own lunatic city of traffic and rage
Yellow Bird
In the Thoughts and Inspirations section there is a posting called Chased by a Poem which talks about the creative muse. For an artists, one of the most rewarding experiences occurs when creative forces just flow through… when a poem or painting or idea just comes and we are there to simply jot it down or express it…
One of the most powerful moments where this happened to me was in Boston. I was taking a poetry class and at the end of the class someone was talking about a loved one that had passed away. Just then I saw a bird land outside the window. On the way home the stormy sky was split in two with one half a creamsicle orange and the other, a dark slate gray. And then the rain started… A poem was brewing. I ran in the door, dropped everything, pulled out my journal and started scribbling down this poem about my grandfather. The sun was setting so by the time I finished I was writing in the dark. But this poem remains one of my favorites because of how it was created:
Celebrate Everything
Lines on face, desire lines Look how they radiate outward, hazel suns reaching, reaching Gained weight, all will even out, all will ebb, then flow again
No need to frown, see See it as a rainbow, children holding hands on a hillside Forming a bridge A frown can be a bridge, you know From today to anything
Is this delusional? I don’t know? But perhaps There is something to say about embracing the what-is-ness of ourselves Something to say about putting down the clipboard Stopping the judging panel
Red Toboggan
Recent Paintings
