I took this picture at the end of April at a pond near my house. Since then, I’ve been working on this poem, trying to find just the right form, words, and phrases. During that time, I’ve felt like I’ve been buried in the mud and muck of school busyness, which has drained my writing energy. Now that school is over, I decided to revisit these happy turtles, and emerge into the sunshine with them.
Please be sure to visit Carol at Carol’s Corner for the Poetry Friday Roundup!
Some weeks I have my Poetry Friday poems picked out early in the week, especially if I’m sharing an original poem. Other weeks, when work and life in general threaten to get the best of me, as this one has, I’m scrambling to find a poem that speaks to me. But when I saw this on a friend’s Facebook page today, I knew instantly this was the right poem for this week.
“The Arrow and the Song”
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.
Be sure to visit Jone MacCulloch at Check It Out for the Poetry Friday Roundup!
Today I’m sharing the latest draft of the persona poem I’ve been working on for Laura’sDitty Challenge over at Michelle’s blog, Today’s Little Ditty. I’ve loved this painting for years, so it wasn’t hard to decided to write a persona poem for this young woman. The more I studied the painting though, the more contradictions I saw and the more questions I had. This draft answers some of them, but not all.
“Morning Glories” Winslow Homer 1873
Through an open window, the wide world beckons me.
I toss my crewel work aside, its neat silk stitches no match for the ropes of green twining up outside the sill, toward the sky, where a menagerie of clouds is parading by.
I watch them skitter and shift, morphing into fantastic creatures.
I wish I could transform into a hummingbird. I’d dart and hover among the morning glories and geraniums, sipping their summer sweetness.
But like this philodendron, I’m trapped inside, bound to this place, never allowed to roam free, never allowed to touch the sky.
Maybe it’s because I recently spent a day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, soaking in the beauty of two millennia worth of collected treasures. Or maybe it’s because of Laura Shovan’s ditty challenge to write a persona poem. Whatever the reason, I’ve been thinking about art a lot lately. But because of the nature of teaching, life hasn’t allowed me more than snatches of stolen time to write.
I’ve also been reading in those stolen moments, and found this lovely little poem in Art and Artists: Poems (edited by Emily Fragos; Everyman’s Library Pocket Poems).
“A Flower-Piece by Fantin” by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Heart’s ease or pansy, pleasure or thought, Which would the picture give us of these? Surely the heart that conceived it sought Heart’s ease.
Surely be glad and divine degrees The heart impelling the hand that wrought Wrought comfort here for a soul’s disease.
Deep flowers, with lustre and darkness fraught, From glass that gleams as the chill still seas Lean and lend for a heart distraught Heart’s ease.
Henri Fantin-Latour [Public domain], via Wikimedia CommonsPlease be sure to visit Margaret at Reflections on the Teche for the Poetry Friday Roundup.
“Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity” ~ David White ~
Krista Tippet’s show “On Being” is one of my favorite podcasts. Recently, Krista interviewed poet David Whyte. I was only vaguely familiar with Whyte’s name, but in the days since I listened to this interview, I’ve been seeking out more of this wise man’s poetry.
Here is one of my favorites:
“The Lightest Touch”
by David Whyte
Good poetry begins with the lightest touch, a breeze arriving from nowhere, a whispered healing arrival, a word in you ear, a settling into things, then like a hand in the dark it arrests your whole body, steeling you for revelation.
When I was a kid, I loved hanging out on my swing set. One day when I went out to play, there was a huge snake, so black he was blue, sunning himself under the swings. I ran screaming back into the house, and have been terrified of snakes ever since.
Then one of my boys turned into a lover of all reptiles, especially snakes. On our first trip to the Bronx Zoo, he made a bee-line to the Reptile House. So I had to learn, if not to like snakes, at least not be petrified when I saw one.
So I wasn’t at all surprised to see this on Michael’s Instagram feed last week:
Photo by Michael Flynn
And even though I still really don’t like snakes, it was hard to ignore the beauty of this one.
His scales polished to a glossy shine, green glimmers, blue-black shimmers as rat snake slithers over sun-warmed slate like lightning flashing across the sky.
“The beauty of the natural world lies in the details.” ~ Natalie Angier ~
Today is Earth Day. I wanted to write a poem specifically to commemorate that, but trying to write a poem about the whole Earth overwhelmed me. Then I remembered this photo from an Arizona Highways desk calendar. The beauty is in the details.
Photo by Tim Fitzharris in 2016 Arizona Highways Calendar
Cradled like newly hatched crocodiles, desertbell vines run rampant through the jaws of an agave, weaving their blossoms between its toothy thorns.
Hats off to all of you who’ve been writing a poem each day in celebration of National Poetry Month. I have been working on a couple of long-term projects that have made it impossible to keep up with all the inspiring projects people have going. I admire your fortitude and creativity.
Today’s poem was initially inspired by Mary Lee Hahn‘s project, Bygones. When I started writing, though, I soon saw how this could work for Marilyn Singer’s April ditty challenge at Michelle Heidenrich Barnes’s blog to write a “poem inspired by the word ‘echo.'”
My father, Tom Wallian, circa 1941
Laughter from two little boys echoes across the years:
On your first set of wheels you pedal down the garden path, feet pumping hands gripping heart soaring
A glint of mischief in your eyes An impish grin across your face
your heart soaring hands gripping feet pumping as you pedal down the garden path on your first set of wheels
“The best-laid schemes o’ mice an ‘men
Gang aft agley”
~ Robert Burns ~
I started working on the poem I planned to share today on Monday. I drafted two versions and played with them both throughout the week. I recorded different lines on my phone on the way to work. But when I sat down last night, nothing worked. The poem just wouldn’t come together and it’s still a muddled mess.
My day was filled with poetry, though. I shared Amy Ludwig VanDerwater’s poem, “Wonder,” with teachers at our Language Arts Committee meeting this morning:
“Wonder”
Water the wonder
that lives in your brain.
Water your wonder
with questions like rain.
Read the rest of the poem, and more about Amy’s 2016 poetry project, here.
Then the principal and I read this Douglas Florian poem during morning announcements:
Find this poem and more poetry ideas in Penguin’s Guide to Poetry in the Classroomhere.
I shared many poems with my students throughout the day, but didn’t have a minute to think about my own poem. By the time I left work, my prime writing hours were long gone. The weather was writing it’s own poem, though. Dark gray clouds piled up in the northwest, while the sky was still bright blue in to the south. Impatient rain drops were falling and the wind was picking up. It was a gorgeous sight that made me think of this Emily Dickinson poem:
“A Drop fell on the Apple Tree” (794)
A Drop fell on the Apple Tree –
Another – on the Roof –
A Half a Dozen kissed the Eaves –
And made the Gables laugh –
A few went out to help the Brook
That went to help the Sea –
Myself Conjectured were they Pearls –
What Necklaces could be –
The Dust replaced, in Hoisted Roads –
The Birds jocoser sung –
The Sunshine threw his Hat away –
The Bushes – spangles flung –
The Breezes brought dejected Lutes –
And bathed them in the Glee –
The Orient showed a single Flag,
And signed the fête away –
Emily Dickinson
Please be sure to visit Amy Ludwig VanDerwater at her lovely blog, The Poem Farm, for the Poetry Friday Roundup.
In my notebook, I have two pages of drafts and lists of words about these sweet gum seed pods. Nothing was working until I asked myself what it was about this tree caught my attention in the first place. Although you can’t tell from the photo, it was quite breezy and these little balls were dancing in the wind. I immediately thought they looked like little suns, even though the color was wrong. Most of the drafts were much longer, but when I came back to them to write this post, these lines stood out. They captured the essence of that tree at that moment.
Thank you to Stacey, Tara, Dana, Betsy, Anna, Beth, Kathleen, and Deb for this space for teachers and others to share their stories each Tuesday throughout the year and every day during the month of March. Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers to read more Slice of Life posts. Also be sure to visit Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe for the Poetry Friday Roundup.
![Henri Fantin-Latour [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons](https://readingtothecore.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/henri_fantin-latour_-_vase_of_flowers_-_google_art_project.jpg?w=293&h=369)
Reading to the Core 