“…just stare out the window and write what you see.”
Some months, I ponder these challenges all month. But I’d been watching this robin for a few weeks, so this month I knew immediately what to write about.
Bedecked in fresh leaves, delicate and lithe, an old apple tree, its limbs loaded with fat pink blossoms ready to burst open, stands outside my window.
Concealed within this veil of green, a robin sits on her nest, still as a statue, guarding her eggs from the jays and crows who screech and caw in the branches above her,
“The more clearly we can focus our attention on the wonders and realities of the universe,
the less taste we shall have for destruction.” ~ Rachel Carson ~
Have you ever noticed that sometimes you read or hear about a topic and then, suddenly, it’s everywhere? The connection between science and poetry isn’t news to Poetry Friday regulars, but in the past week, this relationship was gloriously celebrated by Maria Papova, Janna Levin and friends at the second Universe in Verse, “an evening of science-inspired poems read by artists, writers, scientists, and musicians, part protest and part celebration.” The event, which was livestreamed, was dedicated to the legacy of Rachel Carson and included readings of poetry celebrating everything “from the oceans and trees and volcanos to bees and kale and the armadillo.” It was a truly inspiring event.
Then I found this article about the intersection of math and poetry, which led me to JoAnne Growney’s blog, “Intersections–Poetry with Mathematics.” Growney writes about both mathematical forms, including Fibs, and poems about math and declares, “let our STEM be STEAM.” Indeed!
Further inspiration came from my poetry pal Christie Wyman, who wrote poems about vernal pools every day in April. (Congratulations, Christie!) Thanks to her, I’ve recently been paying close attention to a vernal pool near my home. After two days of above-average temperatures, this scene greeted me on my morning walk yesterday:
The unfortunately named skunk cabbage caught my attention. Kale, armadillos, even skunk cabbage, all are worthy subjects of our attention, our words.
“Fib for a Skunk Cabbage”
Like
hands,
ancient
and veined, skunk
cabbage leaves unfold,
arise from hidden vernal pools boldly proclaiming, “Spring is here! Spring is finally here!”
Recently, while driving in an unfamiliar town, I passed this sign:
Maybe because I’m often thinking about poetry when I drive, I misread the name of this store as “Poetporium.” (Never mind the dog and cat silhouettes; I missed them completely!) What a store that would be, I thought. Then of course, the wheels really started turning. What kind of poem could advertise a Poetporium? After renaming this imaginary store the “Poemporium,” I came up with this draft of a promotional poem.
“The Poemporium”
At the Poemporium you will find Verses and rhymes of every kind:
A wide assortment of Couplets and quatrains, Repeating roundels. Odes evoking the sacred muse. Soaring sonnets, Tanka, haiku, Iambs or trochees, Cinquains and more!
Poems that make you giggle, Poems that make you cry, Poems that heal a broken heart, Or make you wonder why?
So don’t be shy! Just open the door, come and explore this enchanting poetry store.
I love taking the train into New York City. Not only is it a great place to observe and eavesdrop on my fellow passengers, I love watching the scenery pass by. I can usually count on seeing swans on a large reservoir near the tracks. I love watching as they float along, serene and oblivious to the hubbub passing by. On a recent trip, I wondered how many swans would be on the water, as it’s been unseasonably cold in the Northeast this spring.
I shouldn’t have worried. There were at least a dozen swans swimming in the morning sun. What I didn’t expect to see were, I’m fairly sure, two cormorants, still as statues, perched on stumps near the shore.
My mind immediately started playing with poetic possibilities, but nothing was clicking. Then I read Amy Ludwig VanDerwater’s “Poem #20: Back and Forth Structure.” Of course! Here was the structure I needed to make sense of the scene on the reservoir.
By Yerpo, via Wikimedia Commons By Jbdavisjb, via Wikimedia Commons
I glide with grace; You dive with ease.
I’d rather swim among the riffles; You prefer to perch near shore.
My feathers are as white as skittering clouds; Yours as dark as a sculpted bronze.
I nibble algae, weeds and grass; A feast of fish is all you need.
And though my name is “mute,” I make a lot of noise; You are the quite one.
As different as night and day, you say? Maybe, except for this watery home we share.
Please be sure to visit Tabatha Yeatts at The Opposite of Indifference for the Poetry Friday Roundup AND to celebrate the publication of IMPERFECT: Poems About Mistakes: An Anthology for Middle Schoolers. Tabatha has gathered 70 poems by many Poetry Friday friends. I am proud and honored to have my poem, “The Laws of Motion” included in this collection. Thank you, Tabatha! You can learn more about IMPERFECT at the Team Imperfect blog.
Naomi Shihab Nye has famously said that “poems hide…What we have to do is live in a way that lets us find them.” I often find inspiration in images, and when I saw this photo on Twitter recently, I knew a poem was hidden within:
Indigo Milk Cap, by Dan Molter [CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia CommonsWhat I didn’t expect was where this poem would take me. Which is, after all, the point of writing.
At a bend in the trail I freeze, startled by an upturned mushroom. Suddenly, I’m at your kitchen table, wisps of morning breeze, rich with melodies of songbirds, drifting in through wide-open windows as you set an ancient flow-blue bowl before me. Nestled within its chipped rim are glistening blueberries, which you rose at dawn to pick, making sure to leave a few for the birds.
Thank you to Stacey, Betsy, Beth, Kathleen, Deb, Melanie, and Lanny for creating this community and providing this space for teachers and others to share their stories every Tuesday. Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers to read more Slice of Life posts.
Today, the KidLitosphere is celebrating poet and anthologist extraordinaire Lee Bennett Hopkins‘s 80th birthday. Although I’ve never met Lee, he has been a guiding light to me for years. Pass the Poetry, Pleasewas one of the first professional books I purchased when I began teaching, and the poetry section of my classroom library is filled with anthologies Lee has edited over the years. More recently, Lee’s wise words have helped me write and polish my own poetry.
It was impossible for me to choose one favorite Hopkins book or poem to share today, so I created a found poem using the titles of some of Lee’s books.
To Lee Bennett Hopkins, on his birthday:
Pass the Poetry, Please!
Good Rhymes! Good Times! Days to Celebrate: Hanukkah Lights, Christmas Presents, Halloween Howls, Morning, Noon, and Nighttime, Too!
Wonderful Words: Alphathoughts, Hand in Hand Jumping Off the Library Shelves
I Am the Book Blast Off! The Sky is Full of Song, Full Moon and Star
Sky Magic Sharing the Seasons On the Farm A Dog’s Life, A Pet For Me
My America Home to Me Amazing Places City I Love
World Make Way Time to Shout: Happy Birthday!
Please be sure to visit Robyn Hood Black at Life of the Deckle Edge for a special Poetry Friday Roundup of birthday wishes for Lee Bennett Hopkins!
Today’s poem was inspired by Janet Wong’s prompt for Renée LaTulippe’s Community Collection earlier this week. Janet shared “Joyce’s Beauty Salon,” a poem from her book A Suitcase of Seaweed and other Poems. Inspired by Janet’s mother’s beauty salon, the poem recalls women leaving the salon “carrying a lighter load” because of Joyce’s magic. Janet asked poets to consider this: “Is there something you can do—or someone you can count on—to help you “carry your load”?
As I was thinking about Janet’s question, I turned the page on my desk calendar and saw this photo:
Short-tailed Albatrosses, photo by Tui De Roy
These two birds are surely helping one another carry their load! A little research revealed that the short-tailed albatross was hunted nearly to extinction at the turn of the 20th century for its delicate white and yellow feathers. Today, it breeds on only two Japanese islands, one of which is threatened by volcanic eruptions. Scientists are working to establish additional colonies on other islands in an effort to save these beautiful birds.
The look of content on the smaller bird’s face inspired this poem:
No gilded palace or cushioned throne could lure me from our island home.
Murmuring in the moonrise beak to pearly beak, By your side forever, cheek to feathered cheek.
As you may know, April is National Poetry Month. Many poets and bloggers are writing and sharing a poem a day in celebration. I won’t be posting daily, but I am following these projects and joining in when I can. Today, I’ve created a Golden Shovel (Mary Lee Hahn’s project) with a line taken from a recent episode of Krista Tippett’s program, On Being.This is one of my favorite podcasts. Tippett interviews a wide range of theologians, scientists, philosophers, poets, among others to, as explained on their website, “pursue deep thinking and social courage, moral imagination and joy, to renew inner life, outer life, and life together.”
In “Cosmic Imagining, Civic Pondering,” Tippett facilitated a conversation between the creator and editor of Brain Pickings, Maria Papova, and Natalie Batalha, an astrophysicist at NASA’s Ames Research Center. Their rich and thought-provoking exchange was full of insights, and I found myself nodding in agreement over and over again. After poring over the transcript, I chose this line to create today’s poem:
“We share this tender planet.” Maria Papova
Photo by Douglas Mills via Flickr
Thank you to Stacey, Betsy, Beth, Kathleen, Deb, Melanie, and Lanny for creating this community and providing this space for teachers and others to share their stories every Tuesday. Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers to read more Slice of Life posts.
For the first time in five years, I am NOT celebrating a month of slicing. Despite a record number of snow days, despite staying healthy, posting a slice every day eluded me. That’s not to say I haven’t been writing. I have. I just couldn’t get into a groove with slicing.
Photo by Aaron Burden via Unsplash
Even though I didn’t participate in the challenge on a regular basis, I did want to post something today. But as I drafted a few ideas last night, nothing clicked. Then, this morning, I read my friend Linda Mitchell’s Poetry Friday post. Linda had used Gary Soto’s “Ode to Pablo’s Tennis Shoes” as a mentor for a poem she read at a friend’s Bar Mitzvah. This was exactly the form I needed for my end-of-March slice.
Ode to Lost Slices
They wait in my notebook half-baked, embryonic ink-smudged at the edges where I feverishly scribbled ideas before they evaporated, my attention grabbed by a bird at the window. Some thoughts made it to page, to screen to you (who are you?) Others are gone, out of reach.
Now it’s the end of March. I sit at my desk, listening to the birds chittering it the treetops, grateful for warm sunshine. My ideas, friends who flutter through my brain are whirling. I should not have slept, But I did. (Wisps of dreams still cling to my hair.)
I want to tame my thoughts, still wild and winged, capture them on this page where they’ll make some sense to me, to you, a friend, to whomever stumbles across them in this vast universe. I love writing, polishing ideas until they shine, then sending them out to fly on their own. But I’m distracted. I skink into my chair. My eyes sting from the harsh words
that inundate our world. I need eight hours (days?) of peace and quiet to let ideas settle, grow their flight feathers, and soar.
Thank you to Stacey, Betsy, Beth, Kathleen, Deb, Melanie, and Lanny for creating this community and providing this space for teachers and others to share their stories every day in March and each Tuesday throughout the year. Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers to read more Slice of Life posts.
During a trip to the hardware store earlier this week, I found myself standing in front of a rainbow of paint chips. They reminded me of my friend Margaret Simon’s recent post about the poems she and her class wrote using paint chips. The shades of blues were irresistible to me. Without reading the names, I selected a handful of cards.
Later, I sorted the chips into categories. Soon I had a list of weather words, ocean words, and a few miscellaneous words. Margaret wrote unrelated words on the back of the paint chips she prepared for her students. I added words that the color names brought to mind and came up with this draft. The color names are italicized.
celestial light dapples iridescent opal waters rippled by sea winds blowing in from distant shores
Photo by Sime Basioli via Unsplash
This was so much fun I may go back to the hardware store today for more paint chips! I can’t wait to introduce paint chip poetry to students.
Please be sure to visit Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe for the Poetry Friday Roundup. Also, thank you to Stacey, Betsy, Beth, Kathleen, Deb, Melanie, and Lanny for creating this community and providing this space for teachers and others to share their stories every day in March and each Tuesday throughout the year. Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers to read more Slice of Life posts.
Reading to the Core 