Z is for Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah, #AtoZChallenge

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay. My, oh my, what a wonderful day…

I can’t hear Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah and not think of my dad. When I was trying to think of an idea for Z this song popped in my head and I knew it was time to make a post.

I can perfectly picture my dad belting this song out. I see myself on the street I grew up, warm sunshine, lush green grass, shade from the maple and oak trees. When I was little my dad would carry me on his shoulders and sing.  My dad sings a lot. His singing to me as a child is the reason I love sharing songs with my students today. This is how we pass on our folk songs and traditions. This is how we connect generation to generation.

I have a book called “The Fox Went Out On A Chilly Night” and it’s held together by duct tape from decades of use. I take it out to sing with my students and I tell them how my dad used to sing it to me when I was a child like they are now. Their eyes get big and they scoot in closer to listen and join me with the town-o, town-o, town-o parts. Now when I take out this book they exclaim, “This is the song your dad sings you!” It makes me smile every time.

When I sing to my students “One finger, One Thumb” I can hear my dad leading the youth group in our church. Making us all jump up and down, frantically waving our limbs trying to keep up with the words and his enthusiasm. My students always appreciate the songs I love, and I love so many songs because of my dad.

I sing when I’m happy. It’s something I’ve noticed about myself because it’s just a general reaction to happiness, not a planned event. What better song to sing to express happiness than Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah? A song that brings me back to my childhood and makes me appreciate the love of music my dad gave to me.

…Plenty of sunshine headin’ my way. Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay!

Y is for Your, #AtoZChallenge

Your name ignites a whispering hope.

Moonlight white bathes the scene-

Perfection in the nighttime glow.

A setting; mysterious, but serene.

 

Something right turned out wrong.

A decoration not for display,

But instead for target practice.

True violence masked as play.

 

Morning disaster unobserved-

The realization cold.

Lessons sometimes cannot be learned.

The truth gets hard to hold.

 

Electric flames lead the way,

Paving a road in humming light.

Which way we go I cannot say,

But we’ll end in the depths of night.

 

A voice heard on high

Signals those who are below.

More audible than a sigh

With words coming slow.

 

There is one weapon above the rest:

The power of thought and a persuasive tongue.

Most would overlook it as the best,

But there’s a reason we start off young.

 

My destination remains unknown

While everyone else knows where to go.

And it seems I’m always on my own,

But I find it’s better not to know.

 

 

V is for Void, #AtoZChallenge

The door slams shut,

sucked from his clammy fingers

by persistent wind.

He slumps against the frame,

sighing.

His stale air like the breeze

trapped within the still apartment.

He calls out

an aching tone, desperate.

His lips spill apologies.

His voice yearns for forgiveness.

He rubs his eyes until they are rimmed red,

pokes a finger to draw out droplets

of forced sorrow.

He makes his way to the closed bedroom door,

throwing his pleas like a fishing net,

aiming to trap innocence as it wriggles unknowingly,

baiting his prey with the lure of hope.

A gentle knock returns no reply.

His facade slowly peels away.

Slamming fists thrust through his barrier

And finally, finally,

there is nothing left to catch.

He stands in the center of the room,

realizing.

He is the black hole

that turned his life into a void.

 

U is for Uniform, #AtoZChallenge

Oh, look how lame we’ve become!

Trading our senses just to feel numb.

Investing more into poisoned hallucinations

than potential creativity and imagination.

 

And our darkest secrets have become

broadcasted for a handsome sum.

We’ve got nothing more to prove,

abandoned pride, it’s style to lose.

 

Fashion we use as a lethal weapon.

Don’t mistake these clothes for a second.

Dress to please, but you or me?

I’d say myself, but look who I’m trying to be.

T is for Tears, #AtoZChallenge

Tears stain faces,

Clinging like evening shadows.

Lips tremble, kissed by cold,

Moisture stolen, chapped, blistered.

 

Saline soaked cheeks

Drenched in humiliation.

A blush of remorse,

Red haze to tinge a guilty conscience.

 

Strangers crowd into a stuffy room

Clothed in dark, robes of night,

To pay respects to a deadly visitor.

The breath of death on a cool breeze.

 

Their faces stand clear,

Set in stone, gray and grave.

Eyes blank, but knowing.

What do they know?

 

Madness. It must be.

But no one shivers,

Shaking with loss.

No one mutters regret.

 

Panic. Disorder.

Non-existent for the moment.

Such an odd display,

People just nodding their heads,

 

Ignorant to disaster,

Or maybe it was planned.

Tears stain faces.

What wipes the slate clean?

 

 

S is for Sacrifice, #AtoZChallenge

Slowly, dragging out this one stance,

the apologetic nod of approval

convinces wavering confidence

to continue in the inhalation

of time and tranquility welded as one.

Matched like playing cards

dropped in sun’s dripping rays,

melting upon upturned faces,

fading out to the corner of the mind.

Blank and dull, cobwebs collect to a colony

while a drowsy smile slides out of tune.

A wreath of regret drifts lazily in the evening

sending smokey shivers down the spine.

Sweet toxin sipped from a gold chalice

dribbles down a craving throat,

hungering for this appetite of desire.

Memories turn blurry, smudging focus obsolete.

Eyelids droop to battered lashes,

crying out for some liquid relief.

 

 

R is for Rough Draft for Starting Over, #AtoZChallenge

 

“I need coffee like a junkie needs dope!”

She laughs and injects liquid gold

straight to her vein where it colors

from blue-green to murky brown.

“It wakes me up and makes me feel good.

Look,” she says, “look at my smile.”

And takes a knife to the corners,

widening her grin in jagged edges.

“This doesn’t happen on its own.”

She says, “This can’t just happen you know,

something has to make a smile.

It can’t just happen.”

Sweat is beading on her upper lip,

her forehead slick and moist,

hands are clammy, trembling.

She says, “LOOK at me.”

She says, “Look at ME!”

 

 

Q is for Questions, #AtoZChallenge

She was just learning how to sit with this soft sadness. It crept up like a warm blanket, hand-crafted crochet, and promised the comfort of familiarity, the absence of change. She was just learning how to set her face in such a way that her eyes would reflect whoever was looking at her. They would see themselves and be distracted from whatever question they intended to ask. They would look deep and then never manage more than a quick glance as they were reminded of secrets they wanted buried and regrets yet to be faced. They would claim how nice it was to see her and then rush  home, not to be heard from again. She was just learning how to entertain her thoughts so she felt more distracted and less like drowning. She asked herself questions she’d never be able to answer. Questions that seemed minuscule in her own life, but for some were their lives. How does a battery work? What does it really mean when cats purr? Why don’t people use more public transportation? She let the questions tumble in her brain and picked one out at random. She guessed solutions and mused different scenarios in her head. She was just learning how to be her own best friend. She was just learning what it meant to be alone. She was just learning, and then, she just was.