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NPM #4: Dry Bones

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for the Slice of Life Challenge.

National Poetry Month 2017

For the month of April, I have committed to writing a poem each day. I am not following any stricter rule than that one. Others in the poetry blogging community are doing themed poems. You can see everything that’s going on at Jama’s Alphabet Soup.

On Monday, my young student Jacob wrote an acrostic poem on the word faith. He was surprised by his own wisdom. I told him that I think there is a whirl of ideas in the universe and he was open for it.

Finding
An
Invitation
to
Hope

 

Thinking about Jacob’s inspiring poem and the ideas from the universe, I felt a pull to write a found poem from Bishop Jake’s blog post from Sunday. Jake Owensby is the Bishop of the Western Louisiana Episcopal Diocese. He writes beautifully at Looking for God in Messy Places about how to live a life of love and hope.  His post this week “Dry Bones and Living Flesh” inspired this poem.

Dry Bones

uprooted
nothing familiar
fleeing home
to stay alive
they leave behind
bones

Ezekiel had a vision
of those very dry bones.
The victors leave
the dead in an open grave,
a goldmine
of artifacts.

This was personal.
The baker’s daughter
he knew by her fragrance of yeast,
the grandmother rocking her grandchild,
the old stooped mason.

War is always the same.
Death, senseless, helpless
“collateral damage” No, this was personal-
husbands, wives, siblings, grandchildren.

Homes left in ruins,
People without community,
Dry bones
watered with survivor’s tears.

God takes these bones
clothes them
gives them breath.
God promises
through us
to be a new home
for the exiled.
Hear the call.

–Margaret Simon

This National Poetry Month button was created by my student Lani. If your students are writing a poem-a-day, you are welcome to use this button. My students are posting their poems here.

My Sunday poem came to me during the shower. Because I couldn’t write it down or record it, I kept saying it over and over, like a musical refrain. Then I wrote it on a sticky note. I was thinking about how the clouds seem to be dancers passing each other in the sky. Sometimes poems come whole, and all I have to do is write them down.

On Monday, after my morning walk, I noticed closed blossoms in the flower bed. Such a pleasant surprise. I know they will open up once the sun comes out, so I thought of the word expectant. Since it was our first day of ABCs of poetry in my class, we were writing acrostics today. I found a student interactive on Read, Write, Think.
My student Lynzee helped me write this poem. I wanted to use the word radiant, but it didn’t fit with the letters. We put radiant into the online thesaurus and found emanating.

Please use this button on your site for DigiLit Sunday posts

Do your students ever ask, “Why are we doing this?” Friday we celebrated the completion of the March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Kathleen from Two Writing Teachers shared a Google Slide Show in which she posed these questions to student bloggers:

I discussed these questions with each of my class groups. Sometimes I wonder if my students really understand why we do this. I can see the benefits daily. Each day, they try to do better, write more, and add more craft into their writing. But it’s more than that. They grow as human beings, too. They share a piece of who they are and who they are becoming.

Noah said, “I learned that when you write on the blog, you are showing other people who you are.”

Sometimes these are hard lessons. These kids are at an age where they are still figuring it all out. They try stuff. They write things that may not be true to who they are or want to be. This blog space becomes a safe place for them to express whatever is on their minds.

Erin said she has learned to be more open. Kaiden has expressed emotions through figurative language. And even Tobie said he learned he wasn’t so bad at poetry.

With all the balking about writing every day and even the multiple posts of things like Google tricks, writer’s block, and “Idontevenknowwhywearedoingthis” posts, my students grew as writers and as people making their way in the world. I am grateful to the Two Writing Teachers, especially Kathleen and Lanny who led the classroom challenge. Another year down and many lessons learned.

I am sharing Kaiden’s clever poem about writer’s block.

A vacuous screen

filled with a picture

of a polar bear

in a snowstorm.

Snow swirling,

chills sinking

into your skin

in this winter wonderland.

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Searching for the muse this morning, I read Amy VanDerwater’s poem for today.  She is choosing crayons out of the Crayola box to inspire daily poetry.  Today’s crayon was carnation pink.  The color reminded me of the beautiful lilies that have opened up, post-wedding, filling up my kitchen with their strong scent.  I took out the carnation pink and colored a picture in my journal.

As I wrote about the flower, I played around with word forms, searching flowery terms like pollen, stamen, and anther.  Pollinic won as a new word choice.  I found that my lines were tending toward the haiku syllable count, so I chose to write a tanka which uses the 5,7,5,7,7 syllable count.

This poetry month I will attempt to write a poem-a-day.  I’ll write about my process.  The muse will come from other poets or from my own poetic heart.

Jama is gathering the Kidlit blogging events.

I’ll be joining Irene Latham’s Progressive Poem and have posted the schedule in the side bar.

Happy National Poetry Month!  Celebrate Poetry!

 

 

 

*The image is a photograph using my phone, enhanced by Painteresque.

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for the Slice of Life Challenge.

Poetry Friday is with Amy at The Poem Farm

 

Today is the final day for the Slice of Life Challenge, and I have run out of words.  I took a tour of my Facebook feed to find some.  It was a good day for most.  I found happy, dreamy words and created a poem.  Thanks for taking this daily writing journey with me this month.  Now on to National Poetry Month and a Poem-a-Day.

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for the Slice of Life Challenge.

Every month, Michelle H. Barnes posts an interview with a poet.  Then a Ditty Challenge is given.  This month’s challenge comes from Helen Frost.

Choose an object (a seashell, a hairbrush, a bird nest, a rolling pin). It should not be anything symbolic (such as a doll, a wedding ring, or a flag). Write five lines about the object, using a different sense in each line (sight, sound, touch, taste, smell). Then ask the object a question, listen for its answer, and write the question, the answer, or both.

I opened the freezer for a Thin Mint cookie, and thus an ode appeared.

Green-vested Girl Scouts
line boxes on a table outside Walgreens.
Crinkling wax paper opens
to a circle of mouth-watering chocolate.
Mint permeates my senses.
Why are you hiding in this box?
Come on out for my delight,
a refreshing bite.

–Margaret Simon

 

 

 

 

 

 

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My house still smells like a florist.  Lilies and roses opening wide to remind me we had a wedding here.  The balloons have lost their height, and we’ve just about finished giving away or eating all of the 20 pineapples that decorated the tables.  My daughter Maggie is relaxing at the beach and admiring her rings.  She says Grant, her husband (that feels weird to write) wants a ring for his right hand, too.

If you follow my blog or my Facebook, you know this was the second wedding in six months in our family.  When Maggie started talking about getting engaged soon after Katherine’s wedding, I pulled out the family wedding band.  I regret that I hadn’t thought about it before, but since my girls wanted nothing to do with my wedding gown, I assumed they wouldn’t want an old wedding band.

My husband’s family sailed to Louisiana from Germany in the late 1800’s.  They settled in New Iberia. In 1893, Mary Baumgartner married George Simon.  One hundred years later in  the mid 1990’s, Jeff’s great aunt died, and we found this ring in her belongings, along with the wedding invitation.  Put away for safe keeping, I nearly forgot about it.

When I showed it to Maggie, she loved it.  She decided to ask Grant for an eternity band as an engagement ring.  This set fits Maggie’s style, simple elegance.  I am happy to have family history a part of this new marriage.

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We have been friends with our next door neighbors for years, even before we moved into this house 12 years ago.  We had kids the same ages going to the same schools.  We’ve shared our lives with a cup of coffee or over a glass of wine.  When their son got married a few years ago, we housed the photographer and his son.  When their daughter was married last fall, we offered our driveway to parking.  My husband made a sign “Guest Parking.”

My neighbors knew they would be out of town for Maggie’s wedding, so they offered their house for my family to stay in.  My sister and her family slept there, but many of us parked our cars there.

When my friend returned home Saturday night, a day early, she texted me.  I told her it wasn’t a problem for my sister’s family to move back to our house.  But we left the cars in the driveway. At 9:30, I got this text:

“Do not love the cars.”

I started fuming.  I decided to be cool and responded, “We’ll move them.”  And sent my brother-in-law over to start moving cars back to our driveway.  I had many not-so-nice thoughts run through my head.  Luckily I didn’t text any of them.

Shortly after, she called and left me a frantic message, “I didn’t mean love!  I meant move!  Do not move the cars!”

I returned her call, and we laughed about it.

My brother-in-law’s wisdom was “Trust the relationship. Not the auto-correct.”

Lesson learned.  In this day of quick fingers and auto-correct, we must remember that friends are friends.  “I get by with a little help from my friends!”

 

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So Much Joy

A backyard wedding
After the storm
Sun awakens new spring green
Vases of red roses and eucalyptus
Balloons float on air
Bride in fur
Groom in linen
Family together
Grandmother judge officiates
Quote from Dr. Seuss:
Fall in mutual weirdness.
Call it love.

Balcony witnesses from three coasts
Champagne popped at I do
Red boiled crawfish spice the tongue
Poboys, Zapp’s chips, Heath bar cookies
Beer in a pirogue
Spin me around one more time
So much Joy!

–Margaret Simon

Through the window, a look of love.

Balloon aftermath; pineapples are ripe.

 

Slice of Life Challenge

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for the Slice of Life Challenge.

 

Please use this button on your site for DigiLit Sunday posts

In my teaching, reflection is important to me.  Not on purpose, really, but as part of my nature. I mull over things.  I wonder out loud and silently.  I talk with colleagues.  I also participate in a Good2Great Voxer chat.

Good2Great teachers are continuously reflecting.  We are always engaging in conversations about our teaching practice. One evening last week, Trevor Bryan and I got into a conversation about the writing process.  He made me think when he said, “The writing process is a creative process, and in the creative process, artists and writers are always making bad work.  Something that doesn’t work is part of the creative process.”

My burning question was born from this conversation.  “How do we honor the process of writing?”

Blogging is a huge part of the writing process in my classroom.  I’ve contended that by writing every day on a blog, my students’ writing grows and improves.  I still believe that, but I’m not sure I honor the mulling, the brainstorming, the idea gathering.  I have stressed to my students that they are writing for an audience.

Jacob decided to write about the movie Moana for his Slice.  When I read his post, he was telling the story of the movie…the whole movie.  He said, “This is only one third of the movie.  I can make more posts.”

Of course he could, but would anyone want to read multiple long posts retelling the Moana story?  I posed that question to him and immediately felt a pang in my gut.  I wasn’t honoring the process.  I was thinking only of the product.  I realized that maybe by writing this whole story, Jacob would learn about writing dialogue.  He would learn about a story arc.  And he wasn’t writing from a book he read.  He was writing from a movie he watched.  He would have to create the actions with his words.

How often do we stifle our young writers?  I know they need to practice.  They need to write often.  But who am I to tell them they must produce a worthy product every time?  As a writer, do I?  Not at all.

Sometimes students do not need to write for an audience.  I will continue to reflect on this question and watch myself more carefully.  Honoring the process is as important, if not more important, that celebrating the product.

 

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