By: Beth Kephart ,
on 6/28/2016
By: Tricia,
on 2/28/2008
Noah the Great addressed the sea in Interviewing the Ocean.Speaking of Laura, I couldn't get the image from this week's 15 words or less challenge out of my head, so my poem is to that tree, and the one like it in my front yard.
Tiel Aisha Ansari at Knocking From Inside is back (we've missed you!) with To Whomever Abandoned a Pot of Zinnia Seedlings on Our Porch Steps.
cloudscome at a wrung sponge wrote a lovely sonnet for her grandmother.
Diane Davis was thinking politics when she wrote Election Race.
Daisybug at Things that make me say... addresses that thing attempting to take over her garden in Exiled Wisteria.
Mad Kane is in with an apostrophe in the form of a limerick, called Ode to a New York City Walk Signal.
Marianne Neilsen at Doing the Wrie Thing! gives us a poem entitled To My Self-Motivation.
sister AE at Having Writ is thinking of her spreadsheet in her poem, Caged.
Laura Purdie Salas is also thinking computers and gives us To My Backup Disk.
To the Winter Tree
Pardon me
oh giant one,
with your bony limbs
stretched skyward.
I stop
beneath your boughs
each day,
hungry for
a sign,
just a hint
of change.
Tell me,
please!
When will you
throw off
the mantle
of winter
and embrace
the gown of spring?
By: Tricia,
on 2/21/2008
Mary Lee at A Year of Reading (the creator of this challenge) gives us a chant about home, entitled The Solace of Open Places or It's Not the End of the Earth, But You Can See it From Here.I've been working on several different chants. This one highlights some of my favorite animals. When you say it (sing it?) think in the rhythm of the William Tell overture (not too fast and with feeling). Here we go.
You know I love any post that includes the words "a poem for Miss Rumphius." Sam Riddleburger is in with an Empire Strikes Back poem (just for me!).
African Mammal ChantIt's not too late if you still want to play. Write your rhyming chant and leave me a comment, then I'll add your poem to the list.
Elephant, rhinocerous
pygmy hippopotamus
mongoose, leopard, impala
mountain gorilla
Eland, puku, bontebok
zebra, cheetah, bat-eared fox
ring-tailed lemur, bushbaby
kudu and lechwe
Antelope, red hartebeest
serval, camel, wildebeest
baboon, eland, tsessebe
colobus monkey
Meerkat, gemsbok, nyala
giraffe, warthog, hyena
aardvark, aardwolf, pangolin
oribi and lion
On safari, at the zoo,
in some books you'll find them too.
Every color, shape and size,
beauties right before your eyes.
If you haven't heard of some of these animals, you can learn more about them at the Southern African Mammals Guide.
By: Tricia,
on 2/7/2008
Here are the poems inspired by this photo.cloudscome at a wrung sponge shares a haiku.For me, this photograph got me thinking about eating the same thing day in and day out, which led to some thoughts about single life and Ramen Noodles.
Diane Davis gives us an untitled piece.
sister AE at Having Writ gives us a limerick.
Laura Purdie Salas also shares a haiku.
I Had It GoodIt's not too late if you want to play. Take a look at the image and see what it inspires. Leave me a comment about your poem and I'll add it to the list.
I shudder when I pass them in the market,
the Ramen Noodles and Mac & Cheese,
sometimes even peanut butter.
I wonder how I made it through the
weeks and months on cheap food,
sleepless nights, and days upon days
in front of wide-eyed kids,
wondering if I was doing it right.
I entered adulthood
earning $8000 a year,
living in a tiny space, made larger
only by the Murphy bed.
Exactly one mile from school,
I walked when the snow wasn't
blinding or deep.
My window looked out on the zoo
just across the street.
In the dead of winter
over howling winds,
I could still hear the elephants trumpet
and lions roar,
so far from their homes.
See those yams? They remind me of
Ramen Noodles. Do you think
they ever hate that which nourishes them?
Get tired of it? Regret not having more?
I did. But those yams,
baking in the sun,
feeding the hungry,
remind me how good I had it,
even when it didn't feel that way.
By: Tricia,
on 1/31/2008
Daisybug at Things The Make Me Say... shares a roundel called Stillness.I spent some time this week reading through really bad high school poetry (mine!) and was inspired to use some of my previous words in this roundel.
Andi at a wrung sponge was inspired by a rock she photographed on a walk and wrote a roundel entitled Rough Cut Stone.
Diane Davis reflects on her the naughty housemates who share her home in Empty Nest.
sister AE at Having Writ reflects on a sailor's adage and gives us Blue Roundel.
Spinning, SpinningIt's not too late if you still want to play. Try your hand at a roundel and leave me a note. Then I'll add your poem to the list.
With arms held straight out from my side
and wearing a giddy grin,
to the left I turn, eyes open wide,
and the world begins to spin.
On the spinning wheel, high above the din,
I want to whisper and secrets confide.
But where on earth to begin?
You stand so close. I've no where to hide.
My heart you're trying to win.
Lost in your gaze our lips collide,
and the world begins to spin.
By: Tricia,
on 1/27/2008
By: Pam Coughlan,
on 1/25/2008
I wanted to find a poem that expressed my crushing disappointment in this upcoming weekend, but since I couldn't find one, I had to write one. Is this how it all this writing stuff starts? Seven Calls One to the friend who used to be like a sister, but has pulled away little by little, but now as a mother maybe a chance to reconnect. One to the cousin with the most golden hair who used to
By: Pam Coughlan,
on 1/18/2008
Earlier this week, like right after the ALA awards, Chasing Ray asked book bloggers what they were looking forward to reading this year. Most of the participants put forth the 2008 titles they were craving, but I didn’t have any to mention. See, it will take me the next two months to catch up on the 2007 titles I missed, either because I hadn’t heard of them yet or because my library hadn’t
By: Tricia,
on 1/16/2008
By: Tricia,
on 1/11/2008
I wrote the Fib below.one
small
blossom
holding fast
to this well-worn place
sun-drenched and reaching for the sky
Sara Lewis Holmes gives us a poem entitled Flower in Tibet.
sister AE at Having Writ gives us Pink.
Cath at little cool shallows hasn't written a poem in a while, but is in big time withBlaspheme. She writes, "Warning: this poem does mention Jesus, Sex, Blaspheme, and a Vagina. If this sentence was offensive, do not read on." I read it, and so should you.
M.F. Atkins at World of Words shares a haiku.
Daisybug at Things That Make Me Say ... gives us her brave attempt.
Paisley at Just Paisley has written a poem entitled desert{ed} flower.
Over at Words are My Life, the author shares a haiku.
By: Tricia,
on 11/29/2007
I'm so thrilled that Laura Purdie Salas joined in this week. I must now repay the visit and join in her 15 words or less poetry challenge. Her sonnet is called 5th Period.
Our friend sister AE from Having Writ killed two challenges with one poem and gives us the sonnet entitled Butterfly Patience.
Here is my sonnet. It's the first one I've ever written and . . . it's pretty bad. I need lots of practice!
On Writing Sonnets
Fret not, she said, the form will support you.
A would-be writer shrugs her poet dreams,
but choosing feet is harder than it seems.
With pen to paper, words spill out on cue.
Stop. Breathe. Remember what you’re here to do.
With thoughts of form she loses deeper themes,
but what of other rhymes and forms and schemes?
Just find your voice and tell the story true.
Will form bind the thought or free it to smile?
Can it breathe and grow to become true art?
What is a poem or sonnet today?
Words that inspire and often beguile,
sharing their secrets before they depart,
they blossom into a word-filled bouquet.
By: Tricia,
on 11/21/2007
By: Tricia,
on 11/8/2007
Andi at a wrung sponge went exactly where these fine fall days should leads many writers, and wrote this OULIPO.It's not too late if you still want to play. Read the rules here. Then leave me a comment about your poem and I'll include a link to it on the list.I was thinking fall too, until my aching muscles led me in another direction. Here's a poem dedicated to my 17 years (yup, count 'em) in the sport of gymnastics. You could also put dancer in the title and it would work just as well.Ode to a Gymnast
Yes,
once
again.
Aching,
bending,reaching,
repeating,
perfection!
By: Tricia,
on 11/2/2007
Meeting at a Distance - A Life in Letters
I am anxious to learn
what life is like
and learn of your country.
I have been anxious
to write to someone
in the United States.
I have questions.
What is life like in the U.S.A?
What do you do?
What do think about?
What do you believe?
I'll be happy if you write to me.
So long for now.
I read your letter
with much interest.
I'm very fine and happy.
You live a pleasant life.
Could it be
that we are more
alike than it would seem?
On opposite sides of the world
I feel as if
I have kept friends with you
for a long time,
though I have never
met you.
By: Tricia,
on 10/18/2007
Over at a wrung sponge, cloudscome shares a photo from her father's garden and a haiku.Elaine at Wild Rose Reader shares many lovely haiku.
Mad Kane gives us some very funny spam haiku. You can also read her political SCHIP haiku.
sister AE at Having Writ has written a number of haiku on bodies of water.
Tiel Aisha Ansari at Knocking From Inside shares a haiku entitled Gusty. She also shared two great links for writing (haiku and more), Three Word Wednesday and One Deep Breath.
last leaves holding fast
to branches bare - now bracing
for slumbering days
By: Pam Coughlan,
on 10/12/2007
I don’t have time for a full-on post today, but I remembered this little “found poem” I created recently from a particular collection of email titles in my bulk message folder. When I saw the headers, they looked like poetry. Odd poetry, but poetry none the less.
Spam PoemFor more traditional poems, head over to the Poetry Friday round-up over at Two Writing Teachers.
Information, Publication
Secure Registration
Instruction, Warning
[none]
[none]
Check out My
Never Thought I
Can’t Believe She
But It Makes Me
This Decision
Should Not
Be Made Lightly
But May Be Necessary
Returns Control
Message Processed
All girls like the big guys
[none]
[none]
By: Tricia,
on 10/1/2007
I wanted something that required more precision. That led me to a six line, 20 syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8 – the classic Fibonacci sequence. In short, start with 0 and 1, add them together to get your next number, then keep adding the last two numbers together for your next one.In the post More Fibbery, Greg talks about some of the rules he follows when writing. Here are a few of them.
Since I started Fibbing to focus on word choice, the one rule I've held myself to is "no articles in the one syllable lines." I also try not to use conjunctions, though part of that is that when I use them, I start singing School House Rock and annoy the neighbors.You can read lots more about Fibs at GottaBook. So, just a reminder, here is the sequence for your Fib. Each of these numbers represents the syllable count for that line.
1
1
2
3
5
8
TwoSo, do you want to play? What kind of Fibs will you write? Post your creation on your blog and then leave a link in the comments. Once we have some poems, I'll link them all here.
small
oval
treasures hold
the promise of song,
magic of flight, in hollow bones.
three
toes
clinging
upside-down
to jungle branches
moving slowly, sleeping, sleeping
Snow
day
Ready?
Steady now
Exhilarating
breathless race to the end - Again!
By: Tricia,
on 9/23/2007
POETRY ~ Do you have a favorite poem? Should poetry rhyme? Are you a poet? Do you remember a poem you had to memorize in school? Maybe you'd like to compose one this week?The first poem I ever memorized was Trees, by Joyce Kilmer. It is below.
I think that I shall never seeA poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Where do you want to go?If that isn't inspiration enough to include poetry across the curriculum, I don't know what is. As I read through these poems, I'm already thinking about how I can convince my secondary social studies folks to give them a try this semester. It's a terrific collection that should find an honored place in every social studies classroom. (Cybils poetry folks, I hope you're listening!)
An Internet map will tell you precisely which road to take and which turns to make.
Slowly spin a globe. Notice how vast the oceans are? Wherever you choose to go, an airplane can fly you there in hours. Travel wasn't always so fast or so easy.
Imagine an earlier time . . . . There are no maps. The globe is blank. What lies behind the mountain, beyond the sea--beyond Earth's atmosphere? Who will risk life itself to find out? Who is making new discoveries right now?
The brave men, women, and kids you'll meet in Trailblazers: Poems of Exploration. In more than sixty poems, some serious and some lighthearted, you'll find dreamers, schemers, conquerors, patriots, pirates, pilgrims, scientists, teachers and the incurably adventurous!
Chiroptera
Nocturnal navigator
aerial magician
drop!
and flip
stall!
and grab
erratic flights of fancy
Not feathered
friend
but
mammal
on the wing
My Shell
Carapace of brown and black,
heavy shield upon my back.
Ribs and backbone fused to it,
all to my body carefully knit.
Protection of the toughest kind,
impossible to leave behind.
By: Pam Coughlan,
on 9/21/2007
My week has been tough. I lost the first round of Volunteer Chicken, which means I now have the responsibility of placing kids in Girl Scout troops at my school. Unfortunately, there are a lot more girls than troops, so some of the moms of these troopless youngsters are going to have to step up and make a troop — or two. And guess who has to talk them into it? Oh, and I need to pay attention to my own troop at some point this month, since we’re going camping in a week.
As if that weren’t enough, I coordinate the Drama Club for the school. I generally don’t mind doing it, because it’s very little work. I change the dates on a flyer that I inherited from the coordinator before me. I photocopy it, the teachers hand it out, I pull together the forms and money from the kids who’ve joined. After that, it’s pretty much in the hands of the instructor.
But today, as the last straw in my volunteering haze, I received an email from the County Schools Official in Charge of Meaningless Things telling me that I can’t use the name of the instructor’s company on the flyer itself. Did I mention that it’s the same flyer that’s been used for at least four years? Knowing that, I hadn’t waited for the official go-ahead, and it’s been copied, gone home, and been returned. So, oops? But the best part is that under her signature she had the phrase “Pray for Peace.” On a county email. In this extremely politically-correct county. I mean, how can I object to the phrase “Pray for Peace”? Everyone wants peace, right? But still, “pray” is a pretty loaded word for an official email. I’d say more loaded than my including Acting for Young People on my flyer.
Anyway, the whole thing has given me the Volunteering Blues and inspired me to write this poem. Actually it’s more like a song, especially given that I had the tune in mind as I wrote it. Whatever — I think it counts for Miss Rumphius’s Poetry Challenge and for Poetry Friday. Read, Write, Believe has the round-up. Now who has the guitar to accompany my singing?
You can take a bit of my blues away by giving me some titles for the list of Best Books of 2007 (So Far). I have just under thirty participants, and I’m still missing a HUGE book. Think YA.The Volunteering Blues
I’ve got the volunteering blues.
I’ve got the do-gooder blues.
Ain’t got a moment to call my own.
Am I too old to run away from home?
Lawd, would someone get me off of the phone!
I’ve got the volunteering blues.
I’ve got the do-gooder blues.
The Girl Scout troops and the PTA —
I’m not sure I can make it through another day.
And here comes a memo from the county to say,
“You used the wrong words for your Drama Club play!”
If everyone thinks I’m doing it all wrong,
Then why have they stayed away for far too long?
They’re the reason why I’m writing this here song.
I’ve got the volunteering blues.
I’ve got the do-gooder blues.
Ain’t got a moment to call my own.
Am I too old to run away from home?
Lawd, would someone get me off of the phone!
I’ve got the volunteering blues.
I’ve got the do-gooder blues.
By: Tricia,
on 9/21/2007
Sweet strawberries, stars,Here is one of my original poems from inside. It is, as yet, untitled.
flowers, four-leafed clovers
and my heart ached for you.
Blue skies through
time and space
memories
cannot erase
the crashing waves
the roaring sound
heard in the
shell
that I had found.
Just in case you can't read it, it says:Talks, speeches, articles, and resolutions should all be concise and to the point. Meetings also should not go on too long.Finally, my last bit of poetry takes the form of a SmilE. When I got home from choir practice last night, I arrived to find my husband at wit's end. I'm sure the fact that he gave our 6 year old 6 chocolate bars for dessert had absolutely nothing to do with his sorry state. When William, who normally goes to bed at 7:30, greeted me at the door at 8:20 with "Guess what Dad did?" and then proceeded to run laps around the kitchen, I had to . . . well, you guessed it, smile. Really, what else could I do? I hope this story brings that same smile to you.
By: Tricia,
on 9/19/2007
It's not too late to play. Read the guidelines and try your hand at a blues poem. Then leave me a comment and I'll link your creation here.Mary Lee at A Year of Reading gives us The AYP Blues. Amen to that!
Tiel Aisha Ansari at Knocking From Inside gives us one of her favorites, Lyrics & Blues. She has previously written a number of poems in this form. You can read them here.
My first attempt with this form was Rainy Day Blues. Here's my latest effort.
Lunch Box Blues
I eat a brown bag lunch
In the dining hall at noon
A peanut butter sandwich
September through to June
That same old peanut butter
Gonna’ send me to the moon
Oh man I gotta’ say it
Got the doggone lunch box blues!
No Lunchables in my sack
No sandwich made of Fluff
No Ho Hos, chips or candy
Just the same old healthy stuff
That peanut butter sandwich
It’s gonna’ make me snap
Oh man I gotta’ say it
Got the doggone lunch box blues!
I know my Momma loves me
Feeds me good stuff every day
Grapes and cheese and carrots
A healthy food buffet
And yes, that peanut butter
Looks like it’s here to stay
Oh man I gotta’ say it
Got the doggone lunch box blues!
I’d trade it all for French fries
Or some chocolate for my meal
If my snotty little sister
Wouldn’t run right home and squeal
Now that stupid peanut butter
Has lost all of its appeal
Ain’t no other way to say it
Got the doggone lunch box blues!
By: Tricia,
on 9/13/2007
Rainy Day BluesThe round up today is at Hip Writer Mama. Please head on over and check out the great posts. You should also make your way to the results of this week's poetry stretch and read some of the wonderful pantoums folks wrote. Happy poetry Friday, all!
Clouds loomin' and thunder boomin'
Skies grayin' and people sayin'
They got the rainy day blues.
Drops ploppin' and garden soppin'
Puddles growin' and rivers flowin'
With rainy day blues.
Ground seepin' and trees weepin'
Gutters spillin' and pools fillin'
With rainy day blues.
Hair drippin' and shoes squishin'
Umbrella flyin' -- there's no denyin'
I got the rainy day blues.
Skies clearin' and sunshine nearin'
Storms endin' with rainbow bendin'
No more rainy day blues!
By: Tricia,
on 9/11/2007
Meadow MornI am going to play some more with this form. Won't you join me? Post your pantoum on your blog and then leave a link in the comments. Once we have some poems, I'll link them all here.
In the meadow green
Dew glistens on each blade
As sunlight breaks the day
And fog whispers away
Dew glistens on each blade
As murmured voices hum
And fog whispers away
Wobbly legs unfold
As murmured voices hum
The day’s repast begins
Wobbly legs unfold
And nest mates stretch and sing
The day’s repast begins
A morning chorus rises
Nest mates stretch and sing
Waking up the world
A morning chorus rises
As sunlight breaks the day
Waking up the world
In the meadow green
By: Pam Coughlan,
on 9/7/2007
A poem about a root canal? Okay, you asked for it (and I didn’t have anything else for Poetry Friday).
Teeth!
Don’t talk to me about teeth.
I don’t want to hear about
cavities or bridges or
God forbid, root canals!
For years, my worst nightmares
have been about losing my teeth.
Not usually through some accident
that wasn’t my fault,
but through my own obsessive need
to wiggle and wiggle the teeth loose,
even though I know
(in the dream)
that’s it’s a terrible idea.
I’ve heard or thought or guessed
that these nightmares represent loss.
Maybe not death,
Probably not death,
But other significant loss —
of the perfect body
of the best friend
of the writer’s hopes.
Which makes it more devastating
that I am responsible.
I am eating the doughnuts.
I am ignoring the phone calls.
I am delaying the writing.
Teeth!
Don’t talk to me about teeth.
I don’t want to hear about
cavities or bridges or
God forbid, root canals!
Unless...
Cavities are just emptiness
That could be filled with clear water
and long walks.
Bridges can be built between friends
who have lost touch.
And root canals.
Root canals can
Dig out the poison
of hesitation, procrastination
to let the healthy hopes
grow stronger.
By: Tricia,
on 9/3/2007
Lazing on sun-splashed rocksSo, do you want to play? What kind of acrostic poem will you write? Pick a word that moves you and write away. Post your creation(s) on your blog and then leave a link in the comments. Once we have some poems, I'll link them all here.
Outstretched to warm their scaly skin--
Until danger approaches--when they
Nervously run for cover
Gliding, running, climbing, clinging
Escaping the light of day
Seas of spindled legs move
Through tidal flats, mangrove swamps
Awash in crimson, vermilion, pink
Noisily stretching, stepping, wading
Dancing on webbed feet
You can read a third poem at the end of this post.
me, too, please. Here is mine:http://havingwrit.blogspot.com/2008/02/caged.html
A kid just such a poem for one of my recent Qwikpick Instant Poetry contests. If you've read Qwikpick, you may be able to guess what the subject is.http://riddleburger.wordpress.com/2008/02/29/poetry-friday-crickenburg-kids-write-nasty-poems/
Lovely tree poem. I too find trees always inspiring. Thanks for the round up.