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Posts Tagged ‘Jessi Waugh’

Saturday Share – Ropp and Tedder

Posted in ecology, Ecopoetry, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 13, 2025| 2 Comments »

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Saturday morning readers share:
Tabitha Ropp and Felicity Tedder
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In the Field
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The soccer field sits wide and open
light brown grass stretching over like it has all
the time in the world
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A class of students drop onto the grass
clipboard down
eyes peeled ready for anything we find
 . 
Butterflies drift through the cool comforting air
never in a hurry
never needing a reason
 . 
Birds are above us
calling out to the sky
as if the sky actually listens
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The breeze slips through the pine trees,
soft as a whisper, cool enough to make us forget
how heavy the day will feel
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For now the field is ours
still, quiet
breathing with us
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And we sit there,
letting the world be simple
for just a little while
 . 
Tabitha Ropp
West Carteret High School
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West Carteret High School Soccer Field – photo by Jessi Waugh

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This is the assignment:
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To cap off a unit on the biosphere, students sit quietly in the back soccer field for an hour and document the biotic and abiotic limiting factors they observe. At the end of the lab, students are asked to construct a poem featuring their observations – any form is acceptable.
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These two poems I’ve chosen have compelling language and structure, and these students were happy to have their poems selected for publication. 
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Thank you for giving these students a platform to share their poetry. We as educators look to give students the chance to shine –  thank you for helping us with that goal and for sharing the voices of many North Carolina poets.
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– Jessi Waugh
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❀    ❀    ❀    ❀    ❀
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Always Active Biosphere
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A metal obstruction digs into resilient blades of grass.
Joyful adolescents race by.
My pine needles quiver as a black and white ball
strikes me straight on.
 . 
Industrious squirrels race up my bark, in hopes
winter will arrive with fully acorned nests in which
to rest.
Whisps of colored leaves pirouette in the autumn air.
 . 
Soft clouds meander by, masking the cheery rays
with their dreary faces..
A gust tumbles a soaring hawk. Diving sharply in an
elegant feathered display, its eyes fixed on its prize.
 . 
No voices are near. A silence befalls in the sleepy hollow.
Nature, however, speaks loudest when left alone.
The chaos of existence echoes in every direction as the
wind slows to a deadly whisper.
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Felicity Tedder
West Carteret High School
I’m 14 years old, enrolled in Earth and Environmental Science, and on the day I wrote this poem, our class took a trip outside to observe the nature of our habitat, including biotic and abiotic diversity. The factors I noticed are what inspired my writing. I find nature compelling. Once all the noise pollution subsided, I noticed tranquil sounds produced by Mother Nature herself. This simply might just be an absurd thought, but hearing and witnessing the environment do the thing it does best, simply thriving, I knew I had to encapsulate it somehow. Through this freestyle poem from the perspective of my local habitat’s primary tree, a long-needled pine, I personified factors I noticed around me: things that a tree must feel, hear, and see as if it had a heart and legs. I imagine the vile intensity that the tree must feel, being besieged by the leftover impacts of man-made destruction. Disregarding these unrelenting pollutants, I hope this tree’s inner soliloquy brings others solace the next time they take a moment to analyze nature’s unabated, profound motives.
— Felicity
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Dusky Salamander in Carteret County – photo by Jessi Waugh

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West Carteret High School is in Carteret County, North Carolina, USA. We are a public 9-12th grade high school, with about 1100 students, in Morehead City (on Bogue Sound). Approximately 40% of students are economically disadvantaged. I teach Earth and Environmental Science, a required course for graduation since 2000. My students are all 9th & 10th grade, ages 14-16. I’ve been teaching this course for 12 years, off and on. I have a Master’s in Teaching Secondary Science, a Biology degree, and I held National Boards Certification until it expired. I like teaching this course and this age group; it’s my niche. I also teach Biology and Marine Science when needed.
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– Jessi Waugh
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Additional poetry by West Carteret students at Verse and Image:
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Thank you for visiting VERSE and IMAGE:
. . . . . every Friday I present one or two poems I’ve read this week that particularly speak to me;
. . . . . every Saturday I present one or two poems submitted by YOU, my readers.
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If you would like to offer a poem for consideration, either by a favorite author or your own work, please view these GUIDELINES for Saturday Readers Share:
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Also note: after January 1, 2026 I will no longer be sending separate weekly email reminders.
If you would like to receive an email each time a post appears, please SUBSCRIBE to VERSE and IMAGE using the button on the Home Page.
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COMMENTS@GRIFFINPOETRY.COM
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Thanks again for joining the conversation.
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– Bill
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Doughton Park Tree 2020-11-22
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Ridges and Ruins – Poems for the Earth

Posted in ecology, Ecopoetry, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 29, 2025| 5 Comments »

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[poems selected by and written by the students
of West Carteret High School, Morehead City, North Carolina, USA]
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Earlier this month I asked Jessi Waugh, teacher/scientist/poet and instructor in Earth and Environmental Science, if she would like to have her high school students contribute Poems for the Earth. Jessi replied Yes! and then this:
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Several days before the poem-writing lesson, I gave my students the assignment to post an EcoPoem to a class discussion. They could post any poem or song lyrics related to nature. In this discussion format, students are able to see each other’s posts and like or comment. Few interacted, but they did see each other’s poems as I scrolled through the class submissions.
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This assignment saw some of the expected favorites: Robert Frost, Shel Silverstein, Dr. Seuss. It also saw poems obviously chosen by a Google Search for “ecopoem example,” as I knew it would. But I got unexpected and delightful responses as well, such as:
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Stick your leaves back on
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My mother planted you the day I was born.
I grew with you.
I remember trying to stick your leaves back on in autumn;
I was scared of you changing.
Yet as time passed, my attempts stood no chance.
The cruel seasons ripped apart your branches.
The cruel season ripped me apart, too.
You looked so unrecognizable by the time winter ended,
I didn’t even wanna be near you.
My mother made me blow out a candle for you every year.
She hasn’t lit one in 1…2…3… I lost count.
I grew without you.
You stood tall, but I only kept changing.
I was scared of changing.
I’m 16 now.
A storm ripped you from the earth.
I’m trying to stick your leaves back on.
I wish you could do the same to me.
 . 
Emily M
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❦
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The Rose that Grew from Concrete
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Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature’s law is wrong it
learned to walk without having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.
 . 
Tupac Shakur
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❦ ❦ ❦
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Before they wrote a poem, Jessi gave her students this assignment: “Analyze the connections between the biosphere and other Earth systems (geosphere, hydrosphere, atmosphere).” She took them to the back soccer field at their school, which is surrounded on three sides by forest and powerline land. She had cut 2′ x 2′ pieces of an old tarp for them to sit on, and once they were outdoors she handed them a clipboard along with the assignment log sheet and told them to sit facing the forest and far enough apart so they couldn’t distract each other.
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When we first got out there, many students sat in the middle of the field or facing away from the forest, and I came around to encourage them to sit near the wild areas and turn towards them. Most did. Others were not comfortable and chose to stand or remain near the middle of the field, especially girls wary of jumping spiders.
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Students documented the abiotic and biotic factors in the ecosystem, reinforcing those terms, and created a food web with the 10 organisms they observed. These were concepts from class (trophic level, energy flow, limiting factors) put into practice. They then answered a series of questions about interactions between ecosystem components and biodiversity, and then crafted their poems, all while outside.
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Before taking them outside that day, I read the students one of my own poems, Dunation, but didn’t tell them it was mine. I told them to listen for the repetition of sounds and them suggested they repeat sounds in their poems as an easy literary device.
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It was a beautiful day, perfect for sitting in the back field for an hour. We saw at least 20 species between all the different insects, herbaceous perennials, trees, and birds. Likely closer to 50. In general, students were quiet and reflective and did a great job of observing the ecosystem.  – Jessi Waugh
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❦ ❦ ❦
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selected student poems . . .
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The Great Outdoors
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When I step outside to the great outdoors
I see nothing but change, out of our culture nothing
stays the same
not the trees, not the grass, not the very ground you stand on
everything around us is just waiting on its moment
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When I step outside to the great outdoors
I notice change is inevitable but nothing to fear
everything changes even just saying
“the last time I was here”
or the time and age you got, like the sound
of the creek, of the animals above, or even the things
that all of us take for granted like a mother’s love
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Everything changes
please don’t be afraid
be glad you have what you have
and enjoy the change
 . 
Kevin Hunter, Student at West Carteret High School
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❦
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In the Back Soccer Field 
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With all these limiting beige walls I’m stuck with
for over 5 hours a day, it feels
refreshing to see the leaves, feel the breeze
crunch the brittle soil like the wandering ant
I make my pilgrimage
toward NATURE
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My eyes are stimulated by something that isn’t
a screen but the echoes of human
development still make their unpleasant sounds
nature is something that can’t be replicated
truly by plastic or plaster models or
the dull green of money, as nature is
VIBRANT and cannot be comprehended by man
no matter what
 . 
Kyndall Griffin, Student at West Carteret High School
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❦
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Life Cycle
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Green
Life abounds
Sunlight kisses leaves
Insects buzz, a symphony of life
Grass
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Tiny world
Hidden, teeming
spiders spin, frogs leap
nature’s dance, a vibrant scene
Balance
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Stillness
Whispers softly
Decomposers working
Life to death, death into life
Cycle
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Jazireyah Johnson, Student at West Carteret High School
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❦ ❦ ❦
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and another favorite selected by Jessi’s students . . .
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rises the moon
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Days seem sometimes as if they’ll never end
Sun digs its heels to taunt you
But after sunlit days, one thing stays the same
Rises the moon
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Days fade into a watercolour blur
Memories swim and haunt you
But look into the lake, shimmering like smoke
Rises the moon
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Oh-oh, close your weary eyes
I promise you that soon the autumn comes
To darken fading summer skies
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Breathe, breathe, breathe
Days pull you down just like a sinking ship
Floating is getting harder
But tread the water, child, and know that meanwhile
Rises the moon
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Days pull you up just like a daffodil
Uprooted from its garden
They’ll tell you what you owe, but know even so
Rises the moon
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You’ll be visited by sleep
I promise you that soon the autumn comes
To steal away each dream you keep
Breathe, breathe, breathe
 . 
lyrics and music by Liana Flores
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❦ ❦ ❦
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Dunation
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The sorrows they pile heart-high
head-high, sky-high like peaks
of primary dunes against winter-white
an accumulation of minutia
a hummock too precipitous to persist
Spring’s avalanche comes
grains slip-slide down dune slipfaces
so suddenly, the sound akin to arctic ice breaking
tern eggs crackling, oak limbs fracturing
in furious full-February gales
Hearts, heads, skies on fire
here comes March’s awakening
dunes crash-topple into manageable talus
Here we come
tip-toeing across the tops
paper children tumbling
over ridges and ruins
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Jessi Waugh, Earth and Environmental Science Teacher, West Carteret High School
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The main reaction from students to this project was appreciation for the time sitting outdoors, and they enjoy the social aspect of posting “favorite’ ecopoems on our class discussions. As much as I’d like to turn it into a week of poetry discussions, that would be terribly off-topic for my science class, and I used it primarily as a way to reflect on the connections between earth’s “spheres” (atmo, hydro, litho, geo) and how they interact in ecosystems. In general, I notice that students are disillusioned with politics and technology. They, like all students I’ve taught, enjoy hands-on experience and labs. I think poetry and teens could mix well in many places. – Jessi Waugh
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West Carteret High School is in Morehead City, North Carolina, in the southeastern USA. It is a public 9-12th grade high school, with about 1100 students. Approximately 40% of students are economically disadvantaged. Jessi Waugh teaches Earth and Environmental Science, since 2000 a required course for graduation. She also teaches Biology and Marine Science as needed, and has been a teacher for 12 years. Her students are all 9th & 10th grade, ages 14-16. The poems submitted are from both the honors and standard classes. She holds a Master’s in Teaching Secondary Science and an undergraduate Biology degree. I like teaching this course and age group; it’s my niche.
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IMG_0345
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IMG_1783
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Prost Neujahr!

Posted in Imagery, poetry, tagged , , , , , , , , , on December 27, 2024| 9 Comments »

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[with 3 poems from Kakalak 2024]
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How to Hold Small Things
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You were this big,
Mom used to say,
cupping her hands
as if to keep a bowl
of holy water
from spilling.
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Is that why I love
to hold small things?
Ladybugs. Twig tips.
Clover petals. Auger shells.
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It’s in the way
we hold small things
that makes them precious,
how we tender moments,
keep them warm
and safe in our clutch –
the newborn kitten,
the wounded bird,
the crab shell that might blow away
if we’re not careful –
as if holding our breath
as we carry them
might keep something
inside of us
from breaking.
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Tonight,
I hold you, baby girl,
cradle you against my chest,
your quick breaths
like scissored whispers,
your tiny fingers
thimble pinches,
and those blue eyes
dreaming with the fury
of newborn stars.
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Michael Beadle – Raleigh, NC
from Kakalak 2024, Moonshine Press Review, Harrisburg NC; © 2024
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❦ ❦ ❦
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God Bless You! Whether I’m at Food Lion, the post office, Dad’s nursing home, even at church, whenever I sneeze some friend or perfect stranger invokes God on my behalf in that benediction. And I sneeze a lot (I even sneeze when I chew peppermint gum). God Bless You! comes a small voice from around the corner in the condiments aisle. Why?
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A medieval superstition is one explanation. When you sneeze your soul is expelled from your body and a quick invocation prevents the devil from snatching it. Even earlier is a tale from the bubonic plague of 590 CE in Rome – a sneeze or cough might be the first manifestation of that fatal affliction, and since Pope Gregory had implored the populus to pray without ceasing for delivery, benedicat Deus was no doubt a universal refrain. When I sneeze, those three words are raised as a warding or talisman to protect me magically from death.
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What about Gesundheit? It simply means health auf Deutsch. Raise a glass of lager in Frankfurt or Bonn and your companion will likely toast, Sei gesund! (Be healthy!, as in To your health!). When I was a student in Berlin, however, the standard invitation was Prost! I never actually knew what Prost meant and just assumed it had origins in some dark Prussian drinking tradition, but surprise!, it’s Latin – a contraction of prosit, may it be beneficial. Another kind of blessing.
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But here’s my problem – I don’t want you commanding God to bless me. It’s not just because I enjoy sneezing. It’s not because when you say those words it feels superstitious and almost pagan – a little pagan is fine with me. I disagree with God Bless You at a fundamental level. God is not a jurist who bestows or withholds blessings depending on whim or quota or petition. God who is universal and who is the universe has already blessed me in the simple fact of my existence. The greatest additional blessing I might seek would be to recognize the goodness of this earth and of every creature, every person, around me.
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I am already blessed. What if the phrase on everyone’s lips were God has blessed us! Or even better, God is blessing us! Could this become an antidote to consumerism, tribalism, the culture of resentment and entitlement? Could I be healed of my feverish striving for more and more blessings and my coveting of yours? Contrary to my nature, I feel pretty pessimistic about the state and the fate of humanity as 2024 approaches oblivion. Is there any good that will survive our human perversity? Instead of wishing a Happy New Year, I might rather wish for you and me both to discover one good thing and hold on tight. The beneficial, the good, is around here somewhere. It always is. As my Prussian friends would proclaim, Prost Neujahr!
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❦ ❦ ❦
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Upon Hearing U2’s “The Sweetest Thing” at the Harris Teeter in Friendly Center
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I’m rushing through the grocery store on a Friday evening
after a long week, filled with deadlines, with news of another
sick friend. All I want to do is pick up a bottle of chardonnay,
a rotisserie chicken, and disappear into the weekend. I consider
buying some cookies too, and then among the masses pushing
their grocery carts, I hear the first chords of “The Sweetest Thing,”
on of my favorite songs, and stop, lean against the Oreos
and Chips Ahoy, and listen, at first only humming, then Bono’s
voice has me swaying in the aisle, and I start to sing louder
as people step farther away from me. But I don’t care. I need
this song, on this day, in this grocery store, and when I look up,
there’s a woman, about my age, staring at me, lip-syncing
the words. She steps forward and somehow we’re dancing
in the snack food aisle. I can’t tell you what she looks like
because we’re in motion, and The Edge is strumming his guitar,
and the whole damn week washes away as we hear a man
in a striped shirt, whom I assume is the manager, say Okay,
that’s enough now. She grabs my hand, and we run along
the back of the store, where the seafood counter guys smile
at us, and this one guy, who reminds me of my long-gone father
because of his graying beard, starts to clap, and my God,
his clapping, her hands in mine, this trip to Harris Teeter
feels like the sweetest thing in the whole wide world.
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Steve Cushman – Greensboro, NC
from Kakalak 2024, Moonshine Press Review, Harrisburg NC; © 2024
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❦ ❦ ❦
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One good thing that arrives as the New Year approaches is the annual Kakalak anthology. It grows each year and has become a gathering of almost two hundred artists and writers; this year there are dozens of names new to me. I especially appreciate the skill with which the editors curate micro-collections within the greater work, often placing several poems in sequence that share a theme or image, complimented by the art. Thank you to Julie Ann Cook, Angelo Geter, and David E. Poston for Kakalak 2024, and to benevolent deity Anne M. Kaylor who makes it happen and gives it life.
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Purchase Kakalak 2024 HERE:
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❦
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Michael Beadle teaches kids to love poetry, to write poetry, to speak poetry.
Steve Cushman works in IT, which does not inhibit him from finding poetry in everything.
Jessi Waugh is well on the way to having everyone on Bogue Banks engaged in poetry.
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❦ ❦ ❦
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Canopy Disengagement
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The year is closing and won’t come again
 === this day, the way the sun slants shadows
through the space between leaves that will fall
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and never grow again, the ones next year
 === will be different on a changed tree, you can’t
step into the same river twice
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We look for patterns with our primitive minds
 === searching the space between leaves for meaning
and when there is none, we relax and drift
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let the chaos of a system with a thousand variables
 === wash over us and defy explanation, why try?
O sweet surprise, oh symphony of endless instruments
 . 
My child grows taller by the day and further away
 === The tree watches each lost leaf with a sigh
We’ve done our jobs, these rules aren’t yours or mine
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Only the space between leaves and the moment
 === the sun shines through us and the blaze of blood
orange fire as the wind plays with your hair
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I lose the pattern and accept the asymmetry
 === heart lightened by knowing there’s nothing more
I could do, nothing more would make you stay
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We step into the everchanging river your palm in mine
 === and a red sweetgum hand lands like a swirling gem
Your fingers disengage to catch it, the wind blows
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And the space between leaves shifts slightly above us
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Jessi Waugh – Pine Knoll Shores, NC
from Kakalak 2024, Moonshine Press Review, Harrisburg NC; © 2024
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❦ ❦ ❦
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