Poetry Friday is with Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe
Photo from Flickr: Kelly Colgan Azar
When I was home last weekend with my parents and my sister’s family, we watched a Carolina wren feed a nest of babies inside a flower pot. I posted about this miracle of nature here. ( I even made a short video of the nesting chicks.)
My summer discipline includes writing a poem every day. In the Practice of Poetry, Deborah Digges offers an exercise titled “Evolutions” that can be traced back to Philip Levine. “When you can’t write, try writing about an animal.” This exercise takes some research. Having the internet at my fingertips helped me find information about Carolina wrens.
This exercise came with warnings: “be careful not to sentimentalize, to usurp the animal you have chosen by turning it into a flaccid symbol for human emotions…The animal is itself.” I tend to over-sentimentalize, so I tried to focus on the behaviors of the birds. After some work and a few writing partner critiques, I feel good about this one.
Poetry Friday round-up is here today. Leave your link .
Hollyhocks don’t grow here in South Louisiana. On a recent visit to upstate New York, I was attracted to their stately stalks with large blossoms. We encountered a few at the local garden supplier in Hebron, NY.
Later, Tara let me know that she went back and bought some for her garden.
Hollyhocks at Old Bedlam Farm.
And then I encountered an image in Better Homes and Gardens. I didn’t order this magazine, but it seems to keep showing up in the mailbox. I love the images of wild gardens that I could never grow.
While in New york, we visited Owl Pen books. I found a treasure, a collection of Emily Dickinson’s nature poems. I used the form of one of these poems and wrote my own version. This poem and the book are headed to my next poetry swap friend.
The Garden After Emily Dickinson
I’ll tell you how the Hollyhocks rose–
A Blossom at a time–
The Petals glistened like Rubies–
The Bees and Hummers buzzed–
The Trees unfurled their branches–
The Bulbul–beloved–
Then I said softly to myself–
“That must have been the Dew!”
But how he wept–I saw not–
There seemed a dampness sincere
That little ants did clamor here
And led me to the waiting pew,
Woven easily among Lilies–
Morning Glories in blue–
And then I saw– You.
Last week I led myself and my students into image poems. We imagined a scene in nature (or on water) and wrote to this list of line prompts from the River of Words Teacher’s Guide.
Prompts for the Teacher:
~ Think about this spot. Sketch it if you like.
~ Picture yourself in this location.Write a line or sentence that describes what you are doing and exactly where you are: “Sitting on a sandbar on the banks of the Calcasieu River in IndianVillage, Louisiana.”
~ In your imagination, look up.What do you see? Begin this line with “Above me” or “Over my head.”Try to use a simile in this line.
~ Now look into the distance, as far as you can see.Write what you see.
~ Describe a sound you might hear in this place.
~ What is on your right?
~ Hone in on a single detail in this scene.Try to describe it, using an unusual or vivid verb in the line.
~ Shift your perspective and your position—stand up, flop down, walk away—and notice another detail in the landscape: the quality of light, the time of day, a seasonal plant or animal,for example.
~ Finally, read over your images and see if you can conclude with a reflective line that somehow captures how you feel about being in this place.(You might caution students not to rush this line; it may occur to them later as they compose their poem).
Swinging by the bayou on the grandmother oak,
legs curled around knotted rope,
Above me branches drape like outstretched arms
holding strong,
Sky opens up to a flash of egret flickering through the trees.
The echo of a far-off motor drums the quiet.
The holding tree is the oldest oak I know.
Hanging moss twirls in a wind-dance.
Jumping from the rope-grip,
my feet fall on fronds of greening fern.
My swinging is a brief sparkle in this grandmother’s eye.
–Margaret Simon
Here is Vannisa’s poem. She pointed to a postcard from Marjorie Pierson’s collecting of wetlands photographs as her inspiration. Click here to view the image.
Standing in the shade,
on the edge of a swamp
where there are cypress trees
with snakes and alligators
lurking within the waters
Over my head,
thick branches and leaves
sway over me as a roof,
with moss dropping down
like the strings of balloons
that fly to the ceiling
In the distance
more trees and gators are
still creeping underneath
Insect buzzing
filling my ears,
the tweets of birds
travel from above
On my right,
a tree trunk
with bugs crawling in a line
making their way up and around
Mother duck and her ducklings
swim all over
yawing around places where
mother knows it’s unsafe
Moving away from the shade,
the water reflects
the afternoon sun into my eyes,
glistening in the light
This artistic landscape
won’t be able to stay forever,
you won’t notice it,
but the wetlands are quickly washing away.
With our 6th grade students in the parish (district), we have been doing an enrichment Wednesday each month that we call WOW for Way Out Wednesday. This year’s theme has been wonder. One of the wonders of our area is this huge old oak tree named Mr. Al. A few years ago, Mr. Al was in the way of a planned service road next to the highway. Protesters were instrumental in getting Mr. Al moved to a safer location. He now overlooks an intersection of the highway, Highway 90 at Weeks Island Road.
This past Wednesday was a gorgeous spring day. We took the 20 students out to Mr. Al for a picnic. They sketched and wrote poetry. I coached the poetry writing with a suggestion that they look outside and write description, then look inside for a memory or inner feelings, then go outside again. Darian came to me with an idea. She was caught up on the directions, though. She told me she saw the whole area as a kingdom and Mr. Al was the king. I loved this creative response and told her, “Yes, this idea is using your imagination that is inside you.” She crafted this poem.
What a wonderful way to honor Mr. Al with writing and drawing. The time was peaceful and productive. A true gift to the students and their teachers.
A tree in the middle of nowhere,
As lonely as can be.
But the tree is not as lonely,
As the eye can see.
Ferns and flowers, moss and thorns,
Give the tree some company.
The hill is a castle,
Its rightful ruler on top.
A king greater than all kings.
King Al is protected by his guards,
The ants and spiky plants.
His loyal citizens obey his commands,
For they are the flowers,
purple, yellow, white and green.
His advisers–the fern, magnolia and evergreen,
Work together in harmony.
Long branches reach out,
As if to be holding up the sky.
Leaves more numerous than stars.
I like to keep my poetry in practice, so I often enlist my students in my pet projects. I love Laura Purdie Salas and her blog site. Every Thursday she posts a picture and asks writers to post a poem comment using 15 words or less. Not every Thursday, but many of them, I show her image to my first bunch in the morning. We talk about the image, someone rings the sacred writing bell, and we write.
Yesterday, Laura posted an old tree. I listened to my first grader, the youngest of the bunch, explain to a fifth grader what he needed to do. “Look at the picture. Then use your imagination.” We read Laura’s poem and Jacob said, “I’m stealing the word squirrels.” I swear this kid could lead a writing workshop already!
Old Tree by Laura Purdie Salas
I posted this poem early in the morning. The tree image reminded me of the old live oak in our backyard.
Grandmother Oak
With footholds to climb
Eyes that see time
Stories in my rings
Come swing.
–Margaret Simon
Grandmother oak in the sunset
Then I wrote again with my students.
Stories told
from a wisdom of scars
wrinkled into skin
like crevices on this old tree.
–Margaret Simon
If you would like to play, go to Laura’s site on Thursday mornings. It’s a fun place to be.
Old People
Two old men
bickering every day
scaring nature away.
These old hags
should calm down.
–Tyler, 6th grade
Another poetry practice project I am doing is on another Laura’s site, Laura Shovan of Author Amok. I am joining some fabulous poets writing to sound prompts. Check it out!
Find more Poetry Friday at Holly’s blog, Reading, Teaching, Learning.
Carol Varsalona sent out an invitation to all poets to submit to the Finding Fall Gallery. I had the pleasure of meeting Carol in person at NCTE. She has an enthusiasm that is contagious. I know she spent all Christmas Day putting together her FInding Fall Gallery. I know because I was getting emails and Tweets about it. She has graciously featured my students and myself. Please treat yourself to a walk through the gallery of poems. It’s a beautiful space to be in. Thanks, Carol. Link to Finding Fall Gallery.
My fall poem with an image chosen by Carol.
Emily’s fall zeno poem.
Vannisa’s fall poem.
Kielan made an Animoto video with her fall poem.
Don’t forget to link over to Carol’s site for more beauty and words.
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Autumn is a wonderful season for writing poems. Donna Smith shared her Fall Poetry Zeno on her blog, Mainly Write, for Poetry Friday. Holly Mueller shared an autumn poem by Bliss Carmen along with her original poem and students’ poems.
On Thursday, I presented the poem Autumn Grasses by Margaret Gibson. My students paraphrased it and talked about the imagery and metaphor. Then they wrote their own poems about autumn. Tyler went back to a picture postcard of Georgia O’Keefe’s Autumn Leaves that he had written about before. I love that he knew where the picture was and felt comfortable enough to grab it again for inspiration.
Autumn Leaves by Georgia O’Keefe
On Friday, I showed my students how I had made a poem movie with my poem This Peace. I suggested they might want to try to make their own poem movie using Animoto. I think this was Tyler’s first time to use Animoto. He found the perfect background, and after he finished putting in his images and words and the movie was produced, I overheard a gasp. He was totally enthralled and impressed with his own creation. This is what creativity in the classroom is all about, that Wow feeling.
I encourage you to teach an autumn poem and make poem movies in Animoto. You may use Tyler’s as a model. Please let me know if you do. I love to know when I have inspired creativity in others.
I do not remember who introduced me to the poetry of Barbara Crooker, but I want to thank you. I am reading Line Dance published in 2008 by Word Press. Barbara Crooker speaks to me. She writes with rich imagery and real life events, touching my heart and my inner poet. She is also a very nice person. When I decided to review her book here on my blog, I wrote her an email from the contact information on her website. Imagine my excitement when, not 24 hours later, she had written me back!
I had a hard time deciding which poem to feature because they are all so good. In the title poem, the lines dance literally on the page as Barbara connects the people she loves in a dance at her daughter’s wedding. “everyone I’ve ever loved/ is here today, even the dead, raising a glass/ and dancing, circling around the bride/ in her frothy gown, bubbles rising/ in a fluted glass, spilling out, running over.”
The collection begins in winter when her father dies “through the narrow window, the cold sky/ stretched blameless, white and blue, behind him.” We are taken on a journey through grief, but not without hope. “this old blue world will keep on spinning, without you.” from Blues for Karen. And then comes Valentine’s Day when she strings hearts in all the windows. “The heart wants and wants and wants some more. Spring so far in the distance.”
Our hearts break with hers and are put back together with the puzzle pieces of her words.
Listen,
I want to tell you something. This morning
is bright after all the steady rain, and every iris,
peony, rose, opens its mouth, rejoicing.
I want to say, wake up, open your eyes, there’s
a snow-covered road ahead, a field of blankness,
a sheet of paper, an empty screen. Even
the smallest insects are singing, vibrating
their entire bodies, tiny violins of longing
and desire. We were made for song.
I can’t tell you what prayer is, but I can take
the breath of the meadow into my mouth,
and I can release it for the leaves’ green need.
I want to tell you your life is a blue coal, a slice
of orange in the mouth, cut hay in the nostrils.
The cardinals’ red song dances in your blood.
Look, every month the moon blossoms
into a peony, then shrinks to a sliver of garlic.
And then it blooms again.
— Barbara Crooker, from Line Dance, all rights reserved.
The natural world sings in Barbara Crooker’s poetry. In Peony, “Imagine the hard knot of its bud,/ all that pink possibility.” Her poem, One Song (after Rumi), sounds like a concert of birds, beginning with a cardinal in all its red, then a chickadee adds percussion. The sun even comes out to join the chorus. And ends with “All the world breathes in, breathes out./ It hums, it throbs, it improvises./ So many voices. Only one song.”
So many voices. Only one song. Thank you, Barbara, for allowing me to be witness to your song. What a joy!
Thanks to Tabatha Yeatts for organizing the Summer Poem Swap.
My own poem written for Robyn Hood Black for the Summer Poetry Swap is featured on Robyn’s site today.
I am celebrating another week of poetry. This was testing week. I had the time (while monitoring a small group of 5th graders) to read and to write. I spent some time with my new favorite poetry book, Gold by Barbara Crooker. A poet-blogger friend recommended it. I love Barbara’s style. I sat with the poem At VCCA, I Hear a Red-Bellied Woodpecker, and Think of Martha Silano. I used the line This morning deliquesces. I had a dictionary nearby, so I looked up deliquesces. Then jumped over to the J’s. I found some great J words: jazz, jay, jettison, joyful.
I love playing with words. Thanks for being a part of my month of ABC’s in poetry.
I wish Storybuilder would appear in WordPress, but you have to click the link to see it.
The blue jay jazzes up to the birdbath
looks left, then right
bobs his head up and down
jettisons oak leaves and pollen curly Qs
lifts his nutcracker beak
to let the water flow down his throat.
I watch from the porthole of my kitchen,
think I should clean it today. This king
of jays shouldn’t have to drink dirty water.
This morning deliquesces, softens edges
of the dark night. I want to join
Mr. Jay making his daily rounds,
here and there, collecting
for his new nest. I would gather
blossoms from the fruit tree,
place their fragrance in your path
to let joyful praise of simple beauty
give your heart wings.
–Margaret Simon, all rights reserved
For this poem, I just wrote. I didn’t change much from the written draft to the typed one. This rarely happens to me. I did play around with the line breaks. I enjoy reading about other poet’s processes. Amy Ludwig VanDerwater shares her process on her site The Poem Farm. At the Two Writing Teachers, Betsy Hubbard shares a process she learned from Georgia Heard. I celebrate being a part of a community that learns together.
This is a clogyrnach, a Welsh poetry form inspired by Paul at birds and trees of the mind. This wisteria blooms each spring outside my bedroom window. I think I write a poem about it every year.
Lavender locks lighten the sky.
In bloom, wisteria curls cry
sweet nectar of tears,
purple popcorn tears.
Bumblebees lick them dry.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She teaches gifted elementary students, writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 