If I could say anything to my students, I’d say:
“Hi, my name is Mrs. Wyatt and I like it very quiet.”
But alas, my last name is Wipff
(origin: Alsace-Lorraine) Yes, Swiss
I chose this name! I married it.
My surname is Chung but not Chinese, Korean
It is pronounced “Jung” – not “yung” like Carl (who was Swiss, by the way)
What’s that you say?
Oh yes, I love the Quiet
*Part of my alphabiography series
My passion for poetry is positively preposterous
careful contemplation,
delicate design of discourse,
imagination, inspiration and impact,
I’m in awe: affectionately and alliteratively amazed
*Ralph Waldo Emerson
**Part of my alphabiography project
My daughter brings books from school
Sherman Alexie and John Cheever
mesmerizing, momentous and magnificent
Indigenous American meets Chekhov of the Suburbs
stories of the malcontents,
the maniacs and the maculate
This teen is spellbound
macrocosms beyond her self now revealed
like I was, when I first split a book in two
*part of my alphabiography series
In a split second – the bond is ruptured
an accident, a mishap, a casualty
first, shock, then pain
this disconnect of parts
damaged
autografts are best
heal thyself
I used to honor the fast and brash,
the notorious and well-heeled,
the industrious zealots
who marched on downtown pavement
But I’ve come to recognize true virtue
in the quail’s quivering plume –
in the solitary bay of the owl at dusk –
and in the jeweled skin of a rattlesnake
Davenport, Iowa
my childhood: pizza and friends, rollerskating rinks and birthday parties, and
Tae Kwon Do
DeKalb, Illinois
my high school years, academic stress, Madonna and Prince, cornfields, detassling, Del Monte factory
Rochester, New York
holy-crap-cold, ice storms, tunnel systems, hibernation, isolation, spring, independence
San Francisco, California
Real freedom (!), real work, KKSF Radio, banking, teaching, marriage, babies, house, traffic
Mesa, Arizona
Culture shock, new home, dry heat, sweet violin music, educating, new friends, cancer, husband’s lay offs, writing, and stillness
I passed out once
shortly after my first child’s birth
“extreme blood loss” is what the doctor said
“she’ll need three units of whole blood”
“But…what about AIDS?” My mother cried.
Losing conciousness is like
falling off a cliff
in very slow motion
it is painless
as long as your husband catches you
I ate an eclair almost every day that I was pregnant
For both pregnancies
The fog blanketed our San Francisco home
Downing hot green tea with the french pastry,
I, a lifelong member of the “Am I Doing Enough?” Club,
was finally relaxed
despite the fact that the budding life
– fueled by choux and cream –
was taxing my stretch pants
I recently assigned an alphabiography to my 6th grade students. For each letter of the alphabet, they had to write 4 sentences regarding a meaningful topic (could be a noun, adjective, verb) to that letter. After reading theirs, I was inspired to write my own. My version is presenting itself in poem form:
I am learning to accept what is
to see every “flaw, mistake, tragedy” as beautiful
I’m getting better at not asking “why?”
And replacing it with “why not?”
*My Alphabiography project
If you’re a writer and/or a lover of poetry, you’re likely to be familiar with Poets.org. They offer “Poem-A-Day.” According to their website:
“Poem-a-Day is the original and only daily digital poetry series featuring over 200 new, previously unpublished poems by today’s talented poets each year.”
Today’s poem is a particularly good one, from Ira Sadoff:
Ok, I no longer want them,
the many selves I had to manage
that once exhausted friends. I believed
in angels then, thought I might be
an angel—that was me, flying off
on a tangent, just so we could land
on one of my many balconies
so we could look down on everyone.
This reminds me of my youth: the self-centeredness, naivete, and drama. He captures it all in just a few words.
Check out poets.org. They feature the works of poets from past and present. I’ve replaced the daily news with a poem each day and it does the soul wonders!
Kismet 