A blog about children's writing and connecting with poets again.
This Spanish style poem is six lines long, and consists of the the following syllables per line. 3/5/3/3/7/5.
I’ve been seeing a lot of shadorma poems among the poetry blogs I’ve been visiting lately. I think because it is a short form poem, and easy to write as a response to a prompt. I wanted something short and sweet today as well, and so went looking for this form to help me out.
My shoulder
is not doing well.
I tell it
do better,
stop giving me all this pain.
It does what it will.
From https://reflectionsontheteche.com/ we’ve been offered a photo challenge. I decided to look up short poems to accept this challenge. I found the gagyohka form, which is Japanese literally meaning “5 short line poem”. Each line holds one phrase, with no extended or complex lines.
Fairies peek
from behind doors
watching the world
forget magic
still exists.
I’m with the fairies on this one. Magic does still exist, in the little things and little moments that make you stop. It’s when I write poetry that I quiet my soul enough to notice. Enjoy the magic today.
I started this blog to coincide with National Poetry Month and all the activities surrounding it. But I think I will try to keep it going, not every day but every week at least. It’s a nice way to keep a journal of what I’m thinking about, without all the difficulty of keeping a journal. A poem is concise, quick and thoughtful. I prefer that combination. Today I’ve been thinking about time.
WHY NOT NOW?
When you invest money
you are always asked:
how long will you live?
And if you don’t know
(as if anyone, anywhere would ever know)
they pick a far off date, like 95.
I’d love to know that
I’ll stay alive
for a long time still.
But my friends are dying
and so many people around me
are already gone
that I’m more likely to feel
that tomorrow is my last day
than not.
But instead
I remind myself
that I am the youngest
I will be
for the rest of my life.
And if I am making a decision
on what to do
I should probably
just do it.
I’ll never be better able
to laugh, run,
see the doctor, vacation
or play with the grandchild
than now.
And then,
I feel
so much younger.
Run on over to April’s site to see the end of the progressive poem. It is marvelous. April Halprin Wayland at Teaching Authors
Yesterday’s writing prompt was about endings or beginnings. As we end our fabulous writing every day in April, or begin our new writing projects (that we hope to continue) we are at a spot to look at our work in both directions. I wrote this blog in order to participate in some of the April poetry activities. I hope to continue it as it makes me happy to write. Too often I put things away and don’t pick up a new writing project. But poetry allows me to play in a short period of time, and not get bogged down in the frustration of all the intricacies of my novel. So I rejoice in the success of these adventures this National Poetry Month, and post my almost last of the month poem.
Write a “near the end” poem and/or…
Write a “near the beginning” poem.
REVISIONS
I’m always near the end
never at the end
or finished.
they say that writing
never ends
there’s always more
to edit.
Today
I’ll put it all away
and take a chance
to quit it
still-
that finished piece
that final line-
so many ways
to spin it.
An explanation from Poet Pamela Ross: “The Progressive Poem was begun by Irene Latham at Live Your Poem and is now organized by Margaret Simon at Reflections on the Teche. It is a collaborative poem with one new line written each day, with a different author adding each new line. At the end of April, we’ll have a completed poem. No one knows what path it will take! ”
As an artist, I am thrilled to see all the references to art and painting in this poem. In yesterday’s line, Pamela Ross brought the magic and colors of our poem together in a artistic reference of montage. A montage is a process in art of piecing together separate pieces to make a whole . This was a perfect ending, bringing all of our work into a poetic montage, and finishing up the 4 line stanzas that we’ve been using.
Today I am honored to add the first of two final lines, a couplet, to end our poem.
Open an April window
let sunlight paint the air
stippling every dogwood
dappling daffodils with flair
Race to the garden
where woodpeckers drum
as hummingbirds thrum
in the blossoming Sweetgum
Sing as you set up the easels
dabble in the paints
echo the colors of lilac and phlox
commune without constraints
Breathe deeply the gifts of lilacs
rejoice in earth’s sweet offerings
feel renewed-give thanks at day’s end
remember long-ago springs
Bask in a royal spring meadow
romp like a golden-doodle pup!
startle the sleeping grasshoppers
delight in each flowering shrub…
Drinking in orange-blossom twilight
relax to the rhythm of stars dotting sky
as a passing Whip-poor-will gulps bugs
We follow a moonlit path that calls us
Grab your dripping brushes!
Our celestial canvas awaits
There we swirl, red, white, and blue
Behold what magic our montage creates!
Such wondrous palettes the earth bestows
And now… This progressive poem swirls to the next poet, April Halprin Wayland at Teaching Authors for the last line of our poem!
———————————————
Please take the time to vist all the poets contributing to this progressive poem at the provided links below:
April 1 Linda Mitchell at A Word Edgewise
April 2 Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect
April 3 Robyn at Life on the Deckle Edge
April 4 Donna Smith at Mainely Write
April 5 Denise at https://mrsdkrebs.edublogs.org/
April 6 Buffy at http://www.buffysilverman.com/blog
April 7 Jone at https://www.jonerushmacculloch.com/
April 8 Janice Scully at Salt City Verse
April 9 Tabatha at https://tabathayeatts.blogspot.com/
April 10 Marcie at Marcie Flinchum Atkins
April 11 Rose at Imagine the Possibilities | Rose’s Blog
April 12 Fran Haley at Lit Bits and Pieces
April 13 Cathy Stenquist
April 14 Janet Fagel at Mainly Write
April 15 Carol Varsalona at Beyond LiteracyLink
April 16 Amy Ludwig VanDerwater at The Poem Farm
April 17 Kim Johnson at Common Threads
April 18 Margaret at Reflections on the Teche
April 19 Ramona at Pleasures from the Page
April 20 Mary Lee at A(nother) Year of Reading
April 21 Tanita at TanitasDavis.com
April 22 Patricia Franz
April 23 Ruth at There’s No Such Thing as a Godforsaken Town
April 24 Linda Kulp Trout at http://lindakulptrout.blogspot.com
April 25 Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe
April 26 Michelle Kogan at: https://moreart4all.wordpress.com/
April 27 Linda Baie at Teacher Dance
April 28 Pamela Ross at Words in Flight
April 29 Diane Davis at Starting Again in Poetry
April 30 April Halprin Wayland at Teaching Authors
Today’s prompt is color. And as an artist, I could write about this in a hundred different ways. But my mind couldn’t settle on anything. So I let the muse play without regard to what would happen. I started thinking about the color of eyes and the words that came out were the ones that stuck. Poetry doesn’t need to be serious. Sometimes just playing with words is worth the effort.
What color are her eyes?
Let’s see.
They’re brown
but occasionally
turn yellow
and green
with tiny flecks of violet
and gray in between
It depends on her mood
or her destiny
of whether that day
she’s a princess
a lawyer
a keeper of bees
or sometimes just an artist
who admires the sea.
What a fun little way to write a poem. But it can be effective. Use a list, a recipe, a postcard, writing on a whiteboard, a phone message, etc. as a format for writing your poem.
Postcard from the Edge
Dear partisan,
I took the road less traveled by,
but it is getting pretty crowded lately.
You might want to stick to the main road
if you can avoid the pitfalls.
Either way, don’t delay
leaving.
The status quo is dangerous
this time of year.
Best travels.
I’m finally getting the hang of Poetry Friday, and am having such fun going to all the websites to read great poems. If you want to know what Poetry Friday is all about, go here.
Today’s poetry prompt was to write about a memory. Where do I begin? I thought about looking through old photographs, or memories from when I was young, or when my kids were little. But this recent memory popped up, and I started writing it down to see if it would turn into a poem.
This memory is about my granddaughter, facing a difficult decision to do something she wanted to do, but was anxious because it was new for her.
I won’t watch that video! (Zoom lesson)
Tears and temper
shout
as her arms fold in
and her jaw juts out
fear and desperation
winning
over trying something
new.
As the day went by
her lips
less quiverly,
fortified
with resolve
and bravery,
sat alone
to face the
impending
zoom.
The teacher smiled
melting away
whatever stress
still remained
and her art lesson
could finally
resume.
And in the end
her smile
shone bright
shoulders relaxed,
fingers tight
around her pencil
as she drew
and drew
and drew.
The Progressive Poem has been around for 13 years, since 2012. Today’s line was added by Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe. I still have a few days before adding my line. It’s fun to look at the patterns the poem has taken, to try to anticipate what to write about, if it needs to rhyme or become a different sort of ending to it all.
. This is the poem so far. Looking forward to seeing what comes next!
Open an April window
let sunlight paint the air
stippling every dogwood
dappling daffodils with flair
Race to the garden
where woodpeckers drum
as hummingbirds thrum
in the blossoming Sweetgum
Sing as you set up the easels
dabble in the paints
echo the colors of lilac and phlox
commune without constraints
Breathe deeply the gifts of lilacs
rejoice in earth’s sweet offerings
feel renewed-give thanks at day’s end
remember long-ago springs
Bask in a royal spring meadow
romp like a golden-doodle pup!
startle the sleeping grasshoppers
delight in each flowering shrub…
Drinking in orange-blossom twilight
relax to the rhythm of stars dotting sky
as a passing Whip-poor-will gulps bugs
We follow a moonlit path that calls us:
Grab your dripping brushes!
April 24 Linda Kulp Trout at http://lindakulptrout.blogspot.com
April 25 Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe
April 26 Michelle Kogan at: https://moreart4all.wordpress.com/
April 27 Linda Baie at Teacher Dance
April 28 Pamela Ross at Words in Flight
April 29 Diane Davis at Starting Again in Poetry
April 30 April Halprin Wayland at Teaching Authors
It’s amazing how time changes as we go through life. The days lasted forever when I was a kid, and speed through the older I get. Maybe that’s why the Fall time changes effect me so much. Four o’clock sunsets make the days and years pass like minutes. There are so many possibilities to write about with time: time of day, time of year, best moments in life, the worst moments… My poem today is about resisting time. Or perhaps it is about the power of our mind to bend it.
Is it time?
My friend is sick
and I haven’t constructed
the funeral urn
I’d promised her.
She said
there’s plenty of time
and yet
every cold or cough
reminds me that
I haven’t completed
my task.
It’s not like I haven’t tried
to find a pot
equal to her personality
her strength
her exceptionality.
But seriously,
even thinking about her
gone
brings me
despair.
So I put off
my promise
as if that will
require her to
stay.
Until I panic
on the next day
when my friend
is sick.
Sometimes it isn’t as important to write great poems, but just to keep the momentum going. This has been a busy week for me. But I managed to get in a few quick poems to keep the writing going. It’s so easy to stop writing, and hard to get back into things. The first poem was to write about books.
Unexpected Penguins
She was sick
and although darling granddaughter
never
wants me to read,
I reached for a book
to comfort her
and she didn’t refuse.
The ancient text
was worn with time
and I needed to interpret
as I went along,
refrigerator instead of icebox,
twenty, not five dollars
to pay the handyman.
But the heart remained
true
and she laughed as Mr. Poppin’s
Penguins
slid down the basement steps
in their tuxedos.
And I relived my wonder
of a good story
shared.
This challenge was to do something with the word Day in it. An homage to my favorite poem.
I’m going out to face the busy day
and do the chores that nag me. Though I may
take time to rest somewhere along the way
I sha’n’t be too long.—You come too.
I’m going out to babysit the child
who’s laughter always makes me think of you
and all the special things we used to do
I’ll always remember, when you came too.
Starting Again in Poetry 