Poem From MTWYS: Fourth Grade Evaluation

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Fourth Grade Evaluation

I remember bits and pieces of it.
The pattern she showed me,
I could not decipher then,
now has faded completely.

What I remember the most
was how my mother fished for
more of an answer than just,
“I am a ‘learning disability.’”
I remember how the woman answered

voice rushed as if, overheard,
she would be fired.
“Twenty years ago your daughter
would be severely dyslexic.”

Now I’m weirder than ever.
Now I’m a stupid girl with a fancy label.
I am in this world where I am weird,
created for the teasing of my peers.

I don’t want to be weird.
I want to be me, but
who am I at this desk
if not a weird dyslexic?
My mother however, told me when I asked,
“What does ‘dyslexic’
mean?”

“It means you have to be
really smart to be dyslexic.”
She said.

Sadly, the good things said
are often drowned out by the bad…

for I was a Learning Disability
to everyone who taught me.
“Hopeless”, they thought as they threw out
my test scores to make their
school look smarter.

Thrown into a room with two others
that knew no other label. Really,
just a learning disability?

Pulled out of class
to do work with the Special teacher…
Now I am special? Another way of saying
now I am a weird-stupid-learning-disability.

Another would tell my mother I was…”So severe”
that I would never learn to write or read.

Never amount to anything…
you stupid-weird-learning-disabled-
freak…is all I heard.

By Silvaan Ruth
Potsandpoetry

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My Dog Widget 1999-2015

Widgysnow Photo1062 Photo0976 Photo0958 Photo0894

In September I had an awful choice to make. My cute loveable dog could no longer walk, couldn’t see well and couldn’t hear well either. Still saddens me when I think about it (part of the reason it took be a while to share). I hope he is running to his hearts content and chasing animals that taste like bacon. 😀

He loved snow and I always called him my speckled pup.

love you Widgy

ThrowBack Thursday: Eyes

I made these a while a go when I was trying to figure out what to do with my life and art. Obviously I settled on pottery but before that I made these, eyes. The first is Heath Ledger (pastel) the last one is mine (oil paint), and the rest are Tom Hiddleston (pastel). They are based on the saying “the eyes are the window to the soul.” There was a time when I wanted to do this for everyone, but I prefer clay over pastel or paint. Yet, I still love these pieces and for Throw Back Thursday I am posting them.

I would tell you what emotion they were meant to convey (as I have done before) but as I stare at them the intent seems to change like a Rorschach test almost, so I will leave it to you to see what you need too.

HeathEye

Hsadeyes2 HappyEye knife-edgeEye IMG_1581

Chapbook:More Than What You See-What’s My Problem?

I’ll tell you what my problem is
I can’t freaking sp-sp-sp-p-p-eak!
Yet you think it helpful to correct me
pressuring me to repeat
with what little energy
I am having a hard time thinking
as you should tell from my
s-s-stu-stu-stuttering.
If you would stop asking
maybe you could start listening.

But I can’t tell you how I feel
or argue my point
because I don’t have the words
to explain it at the moment;
hard to think with your badgering questions
so I s-su-uccumb to your winning-
gloating again.

Days pass.
Now, I have the words.
It doesn’t matter
how much you explain
that I am not stupid
or down play your talking
down to me.
You still explain
the spelling
difference between—
“want” and “went”—
“than” and” then”—
“effect” and “affect”—
“men” and “man”—
as if it’s easy
with your mocking tone.
“What’s your problem?”
like it is not that hard.
You know nothing of hard.
Doesn’t matter the amount of empathy
you muster. You will never be me.
But you’re teasing
me for something
I have no control over.

Emotion is all I remember
of your hurtful words.
but it’s a moot point.
No sense in bringing up old
fights now.

“Nothing”
is my verbal answer
to your question.

Avoiding your
belting me with questions.
That only force me into
processing your
questions
instead of just
talking.

I just want to be left alone
instead of being asked what my problem is.
I am more verbal than you think.
I am just too tired to
sp-sp-p-p-peak.

Silvaan Ruth
PotsandPoetry

Want my Chapbook? Click this link
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/441082