Blueberries from the Neon Farm

Blueberries from the Neon Farm

This week we are working on Narrative Poetry. I want my students to prepare for their Narrative Writing Assignment. In their general education classes they will have to write a 5 paragraph narrative essay. I want my students with special needs to explore words free verse style. I am trying to encourage my students to take ordinary events and try and take us on a journey through play with words and sensory language. I have been trying to practice my writing as well, because if I have the expectation that my students will write from 5-10 minutes each day, then I should be doing the same. I want my students to see that I am taking chances with my writing and putting it out there no matter how quirky. Here is one of my poems from today’s lesson. I am also practicing reading my poetry aloud. Please see the recording below. It may take a few seconds as I wasn’t sure if I was recording or not. This one is called Blueberries from the Neon Farm. This is dedicated to all the agoraphobic shoppers like me. I hope you enjoy!

There’s a wobbly wheel

On my grocery cart,

It flexes pigeon-toed to 2:00

Pigeon-toed to 2:00

Pigeon-toed to 2:00


on a cement floor that is checkered

beige and black with arrows taped on due North.

Above a lone 

elongated fluorescent bulb

sprightly flickers about the produce aisle.


I staccato eye sideways in search

for a crop of blueberries, delicious boisterous, 

indigo blueberries plucked and plunged

into plastic baskets with perforated locks.

‘Où es tu?’


Lemons and bleach are in the air,

Likewise passing fruits that frump,

then periodically plump

misted awake – – – an affable voice cues

the synchronized sprinklers salutations

to each heave-woven steel square,

Pigeon-toed to 2:00

Pigeon-toed to 2:00

Pigeon-toed to 2:00


‘Look up!’ as the suppose-to-be masked pickers jaunt

guesstimating our 6-feet-apart and dodging those who don’t,

Side-glancing, and sometimes side-swiping Covid Cloud’s achoo,


Next aisle over, eye smilin’ perusing and pinching avocados and such,

Round the corner rows of berries snug in skittish,

Ah,There’s my blueberries I seek! 

They glisten in the neon farm.’