The Never Fails Jack Powers Poetry Workshop. Reusable Ideas Never Fail. @cwpfairfield. #poetry Pequannok Poem.

In 2011, I was introduced to Jack Powers and his skills as a writer and teacher. Yesterday, he came to campus and led this summer's cohort, so I wrote, too. I told him, "It's always a good day when you present to our teacher institute, because I know I'll have a blog post in the morning." I always end up with two to three poems by the end of his workshop. It's also a great bonding experience for teachers, those that write poetry and who are scared to death of it.

"Homestead" by Robert Gibb is typically the one that engages the most writers. Form, rhythm, choice. Replicate. Try it yourself. Share. It works.

And Jack is a master craftsman. He composes beautifully, but he also teaches with natural expertise: humor, style, grace, intelligence, and passion. It's always incredible to see. 

This year, I didn't jump into childhood with the prompt, but utilized the present...something new.

Pequannok

It's spring, 2021. My son's 

in a buttoned Polo tucked

in his golf shorts & held 

into place with a brown belt.

Karal leads with her leash.

It’s hard to see clouds,

but we know they’re gray,

damp, and move quickly 

with the promise of rain.

Because I’m almost 50

I notice the pace he keeps

in dress shoes not meant

for walking - the ones

worn to his office parties,

He makes a salary now.   

I the talking about my

parents, dad riding his

mower to the bar

while mom laces

their home with oxygen

thread and cookie crumbs. 

It used to be smoke

and wise potato chips.

Because I’m almost 50

nothing looks the same.

My son’s legs are long,

shiny from the lotion,

moving quickly along

the Pequonnack, its water

parading over buried rocks

and fallen Sycamores.

He’s planned a trip to

Louisville on his own -

came to visit me and

to get some fresh air.

Time is shackled upon

his wrist like dollar signs.

It’s Friday. Both of us

need a break, this 

son always four steps

ahead of me. It's like

he walks atop the trees. 

I understand the path 

ahead, it's straight forward

but miss the feet

that once followed me,

as I try to keep up.