Carie Juettner

Did I Miss Anything?

I wish I hadn’t been inspired to write this poem. I wish it hadn’t been relevant enough to take home first place in the Shirley Elliot Cosby Memorial Award at the Poetry Society of Texas annual banquet last year. I wish I didn’t feel the need to share it with you. I wish “back to school” season caused only feelings of excitement and happy butterflies in the hearts of all of my teacher friends.

I wish every student and teacher and school employee everywhere a safe and happy 2024-2025 school year.

Did I Miss Anything? 

Columbine happened in 1999.
Those students would be in their forties now.
Moms, dads, spouses, business owners, teachers,
artists, doctors, Uber drivers, the people who feed 
the stray cats in their neighborhood,
the ones who laugh too loud in movies, 
the neighbors who always pick up their dogs’ poop,
and the ones who don’t.

Sandy Hook happened in 2012.
Those children would be teenagers now.
Learning to drive, taking the SAT, 
buying dresses for dances, playing the trumpet,
sneaking a beer, dying their hair,
thinking about college, falling in love,
making bad choices, 
and good ones.

Uvalde happened two months ago.
Those kids would be on summer vacation now.
Eating cereal for breakfast, playing video games, 
taking trips to the library and the beach,
fighting with their siblings,
annoying their parents,
growing out of last year’s new clothes,
and complaining that the summer is too short.

When students are absent,
they come back to school and say,
“Did I miss anything?”
as if the world stops when they’re gone,
as if no one could possibly learn anything
if they’re not present.
These victims of gun violence have missed so much.
But the world has not stopped, and no one
has learned anything.

© Carie Juettner

* written in July 2022
* first published in the 2024 A Book of the Year

Reading Poetry in a Thunderstorm

I wrote this poem several years ago when I was still teaching 7th grade English. I had a lot of fun finding ways to incorporate the poetic devices* I taught to my students into a description of a thunderstorm, and I was pleased when this poem finally found a home. It won first place in the Poetry Society of Texas Barbara Blanks Award last year and was published in their 2024 A Book of the Year.

Mammatus clouds over my house – June 2, 2024 – Photo by Carie Juettner

I’m sharing this poem today because it’s very hot in Texas and also very hot in my house right now because our air conditioner is broken. [Note: I am not in my house right now. I’m in a nice cool coffee shop drinking an oatmilk latte.] Our AC will be fixed in a few days, but in the meantime, I’d really enjoy a cold front or a good rainstorm to cool things down for a bit. Maybe these words can conjure up something. And if not, I hope you enjoy them anyway.

Reading Poetry During a Thunderstorm

Words crackle on the page
as a bright flash alliterates the night sky.
Temperature drops, meter falters,
a gust of irony personifies the clouds.

I hear the rumble of a distant metaphor.

The cadence quickens.
Wind rhymes and language howls,
syllables shake tree limbs,
send leaves falling like similes. 
Onomatopoeias rattle the window panes.

The mood of the squall shifts—
rain coming down in stanzas,
pelting the roof with iambs.
A flood of imagery washes over 
and I am electrified by a bolt of verse,
struck by the power of hyperbole.

The water rises, allusions sink in
until the beat of the downpour dwindles
to a steady rhythmic pounding,
and the tempest concludes
in an isolated couplet.

The skies clear again,
revealing the theme in the stars.

© Carie Juettner

* There are 21 poetry-related terms in this poem. Can you find them all?

Blues

I took this picture of the sky this morning…

… and realized it was a good day to share a poem with you.

I wrote “Blues” several years ago, but it just recently found a home. The short poem won first place in the “Makes Sense to Me” prize in the Poetry Society of Texas’s annual poetry contests and was published in their A Book of the Year for 2024.


Blues

the sky was blues tonight 
not just one but all of them 
as if the rainbow were made of shades of cerulean
as if the rain clouds were weighted with blueberries
as if twilight grew from the seeds of cornflowers
as if all the worries of every person 
who's ever owned a pair of jeans 
floated up into the heavens 
and hovered over the horizon 
holding lanterns to the stars 
which were made of sapphires

© Carie Juettner