The gurus at Tweetspeak Poetry have issued the challenge of writing a resume as a poem. So here’s my resume, in case anybody is hiring:
The Teacher Poet by Joel E. Jacobson
high school student
interprets literary classics
said English teachers
I loved to hate
about myself or careers,
the college plan
changed and changed and changed,
rough drafts to discover purpose
working as a corporate trainer–
a teaching mirage?
Shouldn’t drinking be a symbol
for knowledge and a full life?
responsible for classics
he read in his youth;
these graduates’ embrace
years later, understanding
I’m pleased to be a guest blogger on the Tweetspeak Poetry blog. Click here to read about breaking down in the middle of Wyoming in below-zero weather.
Every Day Poems posted this photograph as a prompt on their facebook page.
by Joel E. Jacobson
It’s when I’m already running late
that I hit every light red,
that I get stuck behind
the only guy in the state
bumper-sticker message to me
is that I need to celebrate world peas,
Darwin fish eats Jesus fish,
I should wish for coexistence–
by the way
is not funny
My one, true desire
is for you to get a flat tire,
pull over, and suffer
for your rush-hour sins
of being a hindrance.
Full of haste, I jerk the wheel
to fly around the hippy imbecile
when I hear the honk and squeal
and swerve back into my place in line.
My heart pounds like my mind did
moments before being blindsided
by the slap of flapping wings
in the face of judgement.
I know I haven’t posted in a long time, and it pains me. For those who are wondering though, I am still writing, and I’m pleased to be a guest blogger again at TweetSpeak Poetry. Check it out.
I’m honored to be a guest blogger at Tweetspeak Poetry today. If you haven’t heard of TS Poetry, they host twitter poetry parties, host Every Day Poems, and have published some fantastic books. Check them out, buy their books, join the party! Oh, and read my post on why poetry matters!
Over at Tweetspeakpoetry.com the discussion surrounds a technique called cataloging. Here’s my attempt with a little inspiration from Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman. Enjoy and share your thoughts if you have time.
by Joel E. Jacobson
I went on a date with America
and she slipped a pill into my beer.
As I faded like a bad TV show,
she told me that success was in the pudding,
that I would be a man if I had millions,
and millions would admire me
for being the embodiment of her dream.
My boys would respect me
and my wife would be interesting
and I would see me and know me and be me,
standing above the rabblement.
I awoke to find her picking up
shredded economic forecasts,
stock reports, and quarterly earnings,
weaving them into a noose.