Welcome to today’s installment of the 2024 Progressive Poem. The story of this year’s poem feels more critical and desperate than past poems. Our hearts are cheering for these two young migrants; our heads know there are almost insurmountable challenges ahead.

cradled in stars, our planet sleeps,
clinging to tender dreams of peace
sister moon watches from afar,
singing lunar lullabies of hope.

almost dawn, I walk with others,
keeping close, my little brother.
hand in hand, we carry courage
escaping closer to the border

My feet are lightning;
My heart is thunder.
Our pace draws us closer
to a new land of wonder.

I bristle against rough brush—
poppies ahead brighten the browns.
Morning light won’t stay away—
hearts jump at every sound.

I hum my own little song
like ripples in a stream
Humming Mami’s lullaby
reminds me I have her letter

My fingers linger on well-worn creases,
shielding an address, a name, a promise–
Sister Moon will find always us
surrounding us with beams of kindness

But last night as we rested in the dusty field,
worries crept in about matters back home.
I huddled close to my brother. Tears revealed
the no-choice need to escape. I feel grown.

Leaving all I’ve ever known
the tender, heavy, harsh of home.
On to maybes, on to dreams,
on to whispers we hope could be.

But I don’t want to whisper! I squeeze Manu’s hand.
“¡Más cerca ahora!” Our feet pound the sand.
We race, we pant, we lean on each other
I open my canteen and drink gratefully.

Thirst is slaked, but I know we’ll need
more than water to achieve our dreams.

Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect has the next couplet. Please be sure to visit Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe for the Poetry Friday Roundup.

April 1 Patricia Franz at Reverie
April 2 Jone MacCulloch
April 3 Janice Scully at Salt City Verse
April 4 Leigh Anne Eck at A Day in the Life
April 5 Irene at Live Your Poem
April 6 Margaret at Reflections on the Teche
April 7 Marcie Atkins
April 8 Ruth at There is No Such Thing as a God Forsaken Town
April 9 Karen Eastlund
April 10 Linda Baie at Teacher Dance
April 11 Buffy Silverman
April 12 Linda Mitchell at A Word Edgewise
April 13 Denise Krebs at Dare to Care
April 14 Carol Varsalona at Beyond Literacy Link
April 15 Rose Cappelli at Imagine the Possibilities
April 16 Sarah Grace Tuttle
April 17 Heidi Mordhorst at my juicy little universe
April 18 Tabatha at Opposite of Indifference
April 19 Catherine Flynn at Reading to the Core
April 20 Tricia Stohr-Hunt at The Miss Rumphius Effect
April 21 Janet, hosted here at Reflections on the Teche
April 22 Mary Lee Hahn at A(nother) Year of Reading
April 23 Tanita Davis at (fiction, instead of lies)
April 24 Molly Hogan at Nix the Comfort Zone
April 25 Joanne Emery at Word Dancer
April 26 Karin Fisher-Golton at Still in Awe
April 27 Donna Smith at Mainely Write
April 28 Dave at Leap of Dave
April 29 Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge
April 30 Michelle Kogan at More Art for All

At the beginning of the year, I began teaching a section of 6th grade in addition to my literacy specialist role. Then, just as I was finally feeling comfortable with my new routine, two sections of 7th grade were added to my schedule. Suffice it to say, I didn’t have a lot of bandwidth left for writing poetry. Still, I’ve tried to keep up with our Inkling challenges. This month, Mary Lee asked us to “write a haiku sequence that talks about poetry without mentioning it by name.”

I wasn’t sure how to approach this challenge, but as usual, a walk helped me find a place to begin.

a woolly bear
stirs, stretches, slips from her bed
hungry for spring sun

her inner compass
steers her toward delicate greens
transformation fuel

suddenly our paths
cross; I swerve and stumble
she keeps inching along 

Draft © Catherine Flynn, 2024

Be sure to visit my fellow Inklings to read their haiku, then visit Irene Latham at Live Your Poem for the Poetry Friday Roundup.

Heidi @my juicy little universe
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Margaret @Reflections on the Teche
Mary Lee @ Another Year of Reading

Happy December 1st! A new month brings a new Inkling challenge, and this month Molly challenged us to write Luc Bat poems. I found this form of interlocking rhymes to be pretty tricky. Thanks to my extraordinary Inkling pals, though, my attempt adheres to the format.

All summer, a thick cloak
of emerald shields oak and ash,
hiding cracks where critters stash
ripe nuts, shrouding a cache of seeds.
A hole where owl can feed
her brood good meals they need to thrive,
or  honey-laden hives
tucked deep within, alive with bees.
Walking by, you will see
a quiet, stately tree. Its heart
holds secrets uncharted.

Draft, © Catherine Flynn, 2023

Read how the other Inklings responded to Molly’s challenge here:

Heidi Mordhorst @ My Juicy Little Universe
Linda Mitchell @ A Word Edgewise
Margaret Simon @ Reflections on the Teche
Mary Lee Hahn @ A(nother) Year of Reading
Molly Hogan @ Nix the Comfort Zone

Be sure to visit Anastasia Suen at her blog for the Poetry Friday Roundup.

Last year, my fellow Inkling, Linda Mitchell, challenged us to use the #folktaleweek prompts found on Instagram to inspire our writing. This was a challenge I could sink my teeth into. (Here is my response to last year’s challenge.) This year, life has conspired to sharply limit my writing time and energy, but I miss it. I need to find my way back to a more consistent practice. What better way than to challenge myself to use these prompts again? “Lost” is this year’s first word.

Left adrift on a vast
Ocean to wander, a voyager
Searches for an elusive quarry: her own
True north.

Draft, © Catherine Flynn, 2023

Where will this journey take me? I’m excited to find out.

Please be sure to visit Karen Edmisten for the Poetry Friday Roundup.

Happy Friday, everyone! The first Friday of the month brings us to another Inkling challenge. This month, Linda asked us to

Write a prose piece–find a poem in it.

• Or, write a poem, and expand it into a prose piece
• Or, find a prose piece, transform it into a poem
• Or, find a poem and transpose it into a prose piece
• Any interpretation of this prompt is perfect
• Going rogue is acceptable too
• If you end up writing longer than a page of prose, share just a snippet

After a month of searching for an idea, I decided to dig deep into my notebooks for my response to Linda’s challenge. On October 21, 2007, I wrote:

Inspired by an ad in The New York Times:

Last night, as I was sorting through a box of old photos, I found one of me and Mother in the garden one long ago Halloween night. I think I was eight or nine. A white sheet with two holes cut out (unevenly; or maybe it’s my head that’s lopsided) for eyes is draped over me. A plastic jack-o-lantern rests at my feet, ready to be filled with treats. Mother had made a slit on each side so I could carry my cache of candy.  I remember tripping on the extra inches of fabric pooling around my feet as we paraded around the neighborhood. 

What’s really striking about this photo, though, is Mother. Someone who didn’t know her might think she was in costume, too. But her ensemble is classic Mother. Her black patent leather Mary Janes is outshone only by the perfectly poised handbag resting in the crook of her elbow. She’s wearing bright orange tights and a brown mohair coat, adorned with a doll as a corsage. Her hands are sheathed in tiger-striped gloves. 

How I adored her. She was the coolest mother by far, but my friends’ mothers snubbed her. “We make our own fun,” she always said to me. And we always did. And she was always the snazziest dresser, even in the nursing home. On our last Halloween together, she wore a leopard print turban with a bright orange caftan that outshone the moon. 

Here is the photo:

And here is the poem:

Parading around the neighborhood
one long ago Halloween night,
Mother and I turned heads.
Me, a lopsided ghost,
trying not to trip on
the voluminous
white sheet, barely
able to see through
two lopsided eyes,
carrying a plastic
pumpkin filled 
with treats. 

She, a general, standing
tall in orange tights
and shiny Mary Janes
leading her troop. 
No flashlight for us.
She was a beacon.
I would have followed
her to the moon.

Draft, © Catherine Flynn, 2023

Please be sure to visit my fellow Inklings to see how they responded to Linda’s challenge:

Linda @A Word Edgewise
Heidi @my juicy little universe
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Mary Lee @ A(nother) Year of Reading
Margaret @Reflections on the Teche

Don’t forget to visit Buffy Silverman for the Poetry Friday Roundup!

September Garden

The magenta petals of cosmos
surround a circle 
of starry stamens
like an Elizabethan ruff
of pleated silk.
They are a beacon 
to bees and butterflies,
now in a delirious frenzy
to gather every particle of pollen
before the petals drop
and summer’s bounty
fades into memory.

Draft, © Catherine Flynn, 2023

Please be sure to visit Amy Ludwig VanDerwater at The Poem Farm for the Poetry Friday Roundup.