Poetry Friday: Learning is a Lifelong Journey

Learning is a Lifelong Journey (a Pantoum)

Learning is a lifelong journey

that can only be mapped

in retrospect

and never with straight lines.

That which can only be mapped

by zigs and zags and sudden reversals

and never with straight lines

is as abstract as the summer sky, or

the zigs and zags and sudden reversals

of a monarch's flight

through an abstract summer sky.

Learning is a lifelong journey.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Molly has this week's Poetry Friday roundup at Nix the Comfort Zone.

 

Poetry Friday -- Don't Forget to Wear a Helmet

photo via Unsplash

Don't Forget to Wear a Helmet

We're there.

Top of the ramp,

crest of the rollercoaster's lift hill,

poised to commit to -- submit to -- the will

of gravity.

Let go.

Fly and fall

with stomach-dropping fear.

Lean into curves, anticipate apogees.

Transform possibility into reality.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

This poem was inspired by Seth Godin's post today, Drop In. I especially liked this line, "The worse you can do is half."

Laura has this week's Poetry Friday roundup at Writing the World for Kids.

Poetry Friday -- Open to Interpretation

photo via Unsplash

if it's a bow
its string is pulled taut...
summer field

弓と弦なら弓を引け夏の原
yumi [to] tsuru nara yumi wo hike natsu no hara

"A haiku about hunting. Issa paints us a picture (disturbing for the animals in the field and, I think, to Issa too) of every bowstring pulled back, a notched arrow ready to fly." --David Gerard

David Gerard goes with a literal interpretation of this haiku. I see it figuratively -- that brief moment when everything is ripe and full, or any moment when you're holding your breath, waiting to see what will happen. Based on my interpretation, here are a few versions I would propose:

if it's a bow

its string is pulled taut...

return to school plan

if it's a bow

its string is pulled taut...

thunderstorm

if it's a bow

its string is pulled taut...

cat in the window

What's your take on this haiku? I hope you'll share your version in the comments.

Catherine has this week's Poetry Friday roundup at Reading to the Core.

Poetry Friday -- Summer of 2020

photo via Unsplash

Summer of 2020

Happiness is morning light
and -- except for birdsong -- silence.
A book to get lost in,
and a cup of tea to begin

a day soaked by rain.
It will not stay
cool, but at least starts
pleasantly, unmarked

by stress and worry
about all that is unsure.
Hold this moment close.
Capture this fragment of hope.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020


Margaret has the Poetry Friday roundup this week at Reflections on the Teche.

Poetry Friday -- Fallibility

image via Unsplash

FALLIBILITY

I am flawed. I make mistakes. I fail.
Miserably, and in cringe-worthy ways. All
the time. Yet I lift
myself up and flail
away at life, flatly
refusing to give up, refusing to take the bait
of “good enough.” I have the ability
to see the light in my aspirations, so I need to stand tall
and not bail
myself out with an alibi.
I’ll
not be a liability.
I’ll
try
and try
until I fly.
Until we all fly.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

I tried the new poetry form introduced by April Halprin Wayland at Teaching Authors last May -- In One Word. I started with the word FALLIBILITY. I used an online word generator to find all the words that are inside FALLIBILITY. Then I wrote my poem, using those words as the last word in each line.

Doing the internal work of antiracism is hard. It's painful to unpack privilege, to understand that I have harmed children (and colleagues) with my blindness, to lose my individuality and take group responsibility as a white person for systems of inequity perpetuated by whiteness. No matter how hard the work is, no matter how many times I fail, I have to get right back up and keep going. I have to stick with it for the long haul.

Ruth has the Poetry Friday roundup this week at There is no such thing as a God-Forsaken town.

Poetry Friday -- Sand Creek Cottonwoods

Credit for photo

Sand Creek Cottonwoods

At first

the shade

of the gnarled cottonwoods

lining the dry creek bed

is a relief.

Sun blazes

in the cloudless azure sky.

At first

the rustle 

of the cottonwood leaves

in the near-constant wind

is a susurrus.

Leaf-babble

in the wide silent plains.

But suddenly

the age

of the gnarled cottonwoods

and the dates on the battleground marker

sink in.

These trees witnessed

the Sand Creek Massacre.

And now

the rustle 

of the cottonwood leaves

repeats the names of slaughtered elders, women, and children

in a dirge.

Leaf-testimony

in the wide silent plains.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Back at the end of May, The Poetry Sisters invited All the Rest of Us to join them in their monthly challenges. The challenge for June was to write a poem using the imagery of thick woods and the word susurrus. This got me thinking about how Ohio was 95% forest (actual statistic) before the Europeans got here and made this land into 90% corn and soybean farms (not an actual statistic...it feels that way, but the Internet tells me it's closer to 50%). I did some research on the bits of old growth forest that remain in Ohio (it might be worth it to visit them all), and learned that they are so old that they are aging out. The oldest (400+ years) oaks and hickories are coming to the end of their lifespans and are being replaced by maples and beeches.

Research is all well and good, but I don't have a natural affinity with thick woods because there aren't that many trees on the arid high plains of eastern Colorado where I grew up. So I was a little stuck. Then, last weekend, I got unstuck in a completely roundabout way. I attended the (virtual, of course) Inclusive STEM/CS Summit. Two of the presenters began with a slide stating, "I am presenting on land stolen from the...(insert name of tribe)." This got me thinking about the Native inhabitants of eastern Colorado. Why didn't I know who they were without asking Google? (Arapaho and Cherokee) Why didn't I learn about them in school? Why had I never heard about the Sand Creek Massacre? 

When I read that some of the cottonwoods along Sand Creek date back to the mid-1800's and so could possibly have witnessed the massacre...well, I knew I had my poem, even if the woods there aren't thick in an "East of the Mississippi" way.

Karen has the Poetry Friday Roundup this week at Karen's Got a Blog!

Poetry Friday -- WOKE

"To be WOKE is to understand that equality and justice for some is not equality and justice at all. We must stay alert. We must ask hard questions. We must stand for what is right--even when it is difficult and scary." --Mahogany L. Browne in the Introduction to WOKE: A Young Poet's Call to Justice

This collection of 24 poems by Mahogany L. Browne, Elizabeth Acevedo and Olivia Gatwood (plus an introduction poem by Jason Reynolds) is a primer for young people and their elders as we move into a new era of social justice. These are poems for self-acceptance and the acceptance of others, poems for both action and introspection.

More than anything, these are poems that encourage the reader to use their voice to make change in the world.

Pair these poems with National Ambassador for Young People's Literature, Jason Reynold's "GRAB THE MIC: Tell Your Story" platform through the Library of Congress.

Teachers, get ready to listen more and to encourage your students to talk back, to own and use their voices. Be ready to say to them

...stand up straight
lock your shoulders
open your chest
and say your human things so I can hear
you 'cross the room
'cross the world
over all this noise. 

(From Jason Reynold's introduction poem. Read the whole poem here.)

Tricia has this week's Poetry Friday Roundup at The Miss Rumphius Effect.

Poetry Friday -- Call for Roundup Hosts

It's that time again. Six months have passed since last we queued up to host the Poetry Friday roundups.

If you'd like to host a roundup between July and December 2020, leave your choice(s) of date(s) in the comments. I'll update regularly to make it easier to see which dates have been claimed.

What is the Poetry Friday roundup? A gathering of links to posts featuring original or shared poems, or reviews of poetry books. A carnival of poetry posts. Here is an explanation that Rene LaTulippe shared on her blog, No Water River, and here is an article Susan Thomsen wrote for the Poetry Foundation.

Who can do the Poetry Friday roundup? Anyone who is willing to gather the links in some way, shape, or form (Mr. Linky, "old school" in the comments-->annotated in the post, or ???) on the Friday of your choice. If you are new to the Poetry Friday community, jump right in, but perhaps choose a date later on so that we can spend some time getting to know each other.

How do you do a Poetry Friday roundup? If you're not sure, stick around for a couple of weeks and watch...and learn! One thing we're finding out is that folks who schedule their posts, or who live in a different time zone than you, appreciate it when the roundup post goes live sometime on Thursday.

How do I get the code for the PF Roundup Schedule for the sidebar of my blog? You can grab the list from the sidebar here at A Year of Reading, or I'd be happy to send it to you if you leave me your email address. You can always find the schedule on the Kidlitosphere Central webpage.

Why would I do a Poetry Friday Roundup? Community, community, community. It's like hosting a poetry party on your blog!

And now for the where and when:

July

3    Linda at A Word Edgewise

10  Ruth at There is no such thing a a God-forsaken town

17  Jan at Bookseedstudio w/optional theme: FLOAT

24  Margaret at Reflections on the Teche

31  Catherine at Reading to the Core

August

7    Laura at Writing the World for Kids

14  Molly at Nix the Comfort Zone

21  Ramona at Pleasures from the Page

28  Heidi at my juicy little universe

September

4   Carol at Beyond LiteracyLink

11  Kiesha at Whispers From the Ridge

18  Matt at Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme

25  Jone at Deo Writer

October

2   Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference

9   Bridget at wee words for wee ones

16  Janice at Salt City Verse

23  Jama at Jama's Alphabet Soup

30  Linda at TeacherDance

November 

6    Susan at Soul Blossom Living

13  Robyn at Life on the Deckle Edge

20  Suzy at The Poetry Garden

27  Carol at Carol's Corner

December

4    Mary Lee at A Year of Reading

11  Buffy at Buffy Silverman

18  Michelle at Michelle Kogan

25  Irene at Live Your Poem

The Poetry Friday Roundup is Here!

Gene Luen Yang was the National Ambassador of Young People's Literature way back in 2016, but his "Reading Without Walls Challenge" is as important as ever. He challenged readers to 

1. Read a book about a character who doesn’t look like you or live like you.

2. Read a book about a topic you don’t know much about.

3. Read a book in a format that you don’t normally read for fun. This might be a chapter book, a graphic novel, a book in verse, a picture book, or a hybrid book.

I spent this morning Reading Without Walls while learning about the poet Marilyn Chin. She doesn't look like me or live like me, and I was not familiar with her poetry. I "read" in a format I don't normally "read" for fun: I watched an hour-long video! The Library of Congress "Life of a Poet" session featuring Marilyn Chin being interviewed by Ron Charles of the Washington Post is worth every minute. 

Marilyn Chin identifies as a activist poet, exploring the issues of the day as well as the intersection of Asian and American worlds through her roots in Hong Kong (she lived there until the age of 7) and Portland, Oregon. The themes/topics of language (loss of language, loss of culture, loss of ancestors), names, identity, culture, and feminism shine through as you watch the "Life of a Poet" session. Plus, she's witty, sarcastic, and quick to laugh!

Here are a couple of Marilyn Chin's poems you should know (if you don't already):

How I Got That Name

by Marilyn Chin

an essay on assimilation

I am Marilyn Mei Ling Chin 

Oh, how I love the resoluteness 

of that first person singular 

followed by that stalwart indicative 

of "be," without the uncertain i-n-g 

of "becoming." Of course, 

the name had been changed 

somewhere between Angel Island and the sea, 

when my father the paperson 

in the late 1950s 

obsessed with a bombshell blond 

transliterated "Mei Ling" to "Marilyn."

(read the rest at poets.org)

The Floral Apron

by Marilyn Chin

The woman wore a floral apron around her neck,
that woman from my mother’s village
with a sharp cleaver in her hand.
She said, “What shall we cook tonight?
Perhaps these six tiny squid
lined up so perfectly on the block?”

(read the rest at poets.org)

In her career as a poet, Marilyn Chin has won just about every award, but the one that impresses me most is the Anisfield-Wolf Book Award, which she was awarded in 2015. Am I the last person on the planet to have heard of this award? It is the national prize for literature that confronts racism and examines diversity. Why is this not the most celebrated book award in the nation? Why is there not a version for children's literature?

So...what inspired me to learn about Marilyn Chin today? NCTE is offering a webinar conversation with Marilyn Chin, in conjunction with the Library of Congress, and I get to be the member who facilitates this conversation! The event is open to both members and nonmembers of NCTE, so sign up and join us on June 11!

Now let's hear what you're thinking and learning about! Share your link in the comments and I'll round us up old-school!

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HAPPY POETRY FRIDAY BIRTHDAY!

Stop over and wish Michelle Kogan a Happy Birthday!

POEMS OF PRESENCE

Michelle has the Poems of Presence Wrap Up Celebration at Today's Little Ditty.

Molly shares another week of poems of presence, some paired with photos at Nix the Comfort Zone.

Linda's poems of presence have given her some "at-ease" time this month. Find a few recent poems at A Word Edgewise.

Christie, at Wondering and Wandering, rounds up her #poemsofpresence for the week.

POETRY SISTERS

The Poetry Sisters are looking back, and Tricia, at The Miss Rumphius Effect, has an EPIC look-back at a crown sonnet that didn't happen. Spoiler alert -- there's a happy ending to the story.

Sara, at Read Write Think, gave herself multiple throwback challenges with a new numeric poem to pair with an older alphabetic poem. The final result is a stunner with Big Truth in the conclusion.

Tanita, at [fiction, instead of lies], revisits the lai form from the Poetry Sisters’ 2017 challenge.

Poetry Princess Laura, at Poems for Teachers, found a poem inside one of her previous poems that sends positive vibes to her sister on a ventilator in ICU.

Liz, at Liz Garton Scanlon, wrote the pantoum she didn’t write in 2018.

Rebecca, at Rebecca Holmes, looks back to the moment she knew she'd be a scientist, but still didn't know she'd be the physicist she is today.

POEMS FOR THESE TIMES

Ruth, at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town, shares Langston Hughes’ “Let America Be America Again,” a poem that is as true today as it was when it was published in 1936.

Jone, at Deo Writer, finds her thoughts about the current news continuing to churn, even when she seeks solace in nature.

Jama, at Jama’s Alphabet Soup, has two poems and a gallery of portraits honoring our elderly.

Alan, at Poetry Pizazz, is on the same wavelength as Hubby – missing his coffee shop, but adapting/flourishing at home.

Joyce, at Musings, shares a poem by Emily Dickinson that reminds us we don’t need to be in a building to worship.

Janice, at Salt City Verse, speaks out against the death of George Floyd, but finds solace, optimism, and symbolism in her garden.

Catherine, at Reading to the Core, found the perfect poem to inspire her online learners.

MSheehan, at A Few Words, wrote an inspirational poem of personal conviction based on recent events.

Linda, at TeacherDance, took April’s challenge last week at Teaching Authors and wrote an In One Word poem that knocks it out of the ballpark.

Margaret, at Reflections on the Teche, also took April’s challenge and wrote an In One Word poem that takes shelter in an EMBRACE.

ORIGINAL POEMS

Liz, at Liz Steinglass, wrote from Marjory Maddox’s book INSIDE OUT.

Heidi, at my juicy little universe, was inspired by Billy Collins’ Master Class.

Linda, at Write Time, has a poem about the robins outside her window.

Amy LV, at The Poem Farm, has a delightful free verse poem and offers us the invitation, “to begin a poem with the lines, "If you need someone..."

Leigh Anne, at A Day in the Life, wrote about her mother’s struggle with early dementia.

Tim, at Yet There is Method, is in with a poem about intention and roots. 

Rose, at Imagine the Possibilities, captured (literally) a very sweet moment with a wren.

Bridget, at Wee Words for Wee Ones, has a puppy poem (and pictures), plus some more Wee-sources.

Karen, at Karen’s Got a Blog!, is enjoying her garden extra-much this year.

Amy, at Book Buzz, shares a poetic memory of her grandmother’s teacups.

Carol, at Beyond LiteracyLink, has a mini-gallery of woodside goodness for calming our spirits today.

Matt, at Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme, dusts off a post from seven years ago that feels as fresh as yesterday!

Sally, at Sally Murphy, is mourning the damage done to “her” beach after recent storms…but she’s also looking for a silver lining.

Buffy, at Buffy Silverman, intended to write a poem of NOW, but wound up with a beautiful poem of THEN.

Irene, at Live Your Poem, writes the truth in her newest ArtSpeak: RED poem.

Susan, at Soul Blossom Living, found inspiration for both art and poetry in the bunnies she encountered on the sidewalk.

Donna, at Mainely Write, checks in with a poem of struggle and hope.

POEMS BY OTHERS

Tabatha, at The Opposite of Indifference, shares a poem by the Australian poet Judith Wright that makes a very reasonable request of This Year.

Little Willow, at Slayground, shares a fun excerpt of a Marge Piercy poem.

Poetry Friday -- Praise and Amazement

This week, I received a digital ARC of Irene Latham's September book, This Poem is a Nest.

At first, all I could say was, WOW. Over and over again. Wow. Wow. WOW. I said it to the publicist at Wordsong, and then I said it to Irene. She responded, "No project I’ve worked on has been more exhilarating than that one. Just me being me."

Irene being Irene means she wrote a poem...a "nest"....and then found ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-ONE other poems..."nestling poems"....inside that "nest!" I. Can't. Even. I'm still gobsmacked.

Here is a portion of her nest, and a few of the nestlings she wrote. These are used with permission of the publisher.

I gave it a try using a poem I wrote for my 2020 NPM project as my nest.

I Have a New Friend

I have a new friend.
We've never met.
She chalks art and exercise challenges on the sidewalk.
She leaves the chalk out.
I write and draw my thanks.
Her chalk sticks became a pile of chalk pebbles.
I left a package on her porch --
Highlights magazines and gently used sidewalk chalk.
She left a package on my porch --
coloring pages, crayons and markers, four Cra-Z-Loom bracelets.
And a note.
I have a new friend named Annie.
We've never met.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Here are some nestlings. Titles don't have to be found inside the nest, but the words of the nestling have to all come from the nest and have to be used in the order they're found in the nest.

Art Exercise

Draw a porch

a package

a note

a new friend.

My Favorite Squirrel Leaves a Message

Pile of pebbles on porch and sidewalk.

A note:

we've met.

Setting Sun

On the leaves, 

the sticks,

a pile of pebbles--

highlights.

Try it! It's addicting and not at all easy. But most of all, get excited for September when we can hold a copy of Irene's newest wonder in our hands!

Carol has this week's Poetry Friday Roundup at Beyond LiteracyLink, and next week, the roundup is here!

Poetry Friday -- Pineapple

Thank you Evelyn (via Jone) for this tasty pineapple poem.

For you, readers, I offer this recipe for bliss:

Over cubes of fresh pineapple, drizzle dark molasses, then sprinkle with the zest of one lime. Let it sit as long as you are able to resist the sweet tropical scent, then indulge. You may never eat plain pineapple again!

Now, head over to Jama's Alphabet Soup, where chocolate chip cookies and the Poetry Friday Roundup await you!

Poetry Friday

When
I think
about next
year, I panic.
So much is unknown.
Am I up for the task?
Stop. Breathe. You are not alone.
Learn from others, share when you can.
Breathe. Embrace the possibilities.
Prepare for creativity and joy.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020


Even though National Poetry Month is over, I haven't stopped looking for The Flipside. We're almost to the finish line of this crazy school year, but what lies ahead...well, I can't even go there. One step at a time. One directive from Central Office at a time.

Michelle has this week's Poetry Friday roundup at Today's Little Ditty.

Poetry Friday -- Highlights of The Flipside

I had a lot of fun with this year's National Poetry Month poems. Early in the month I started writing etherees, inspired by Liz Garton Scanlon's video lesson.


Gratitude
I
give thanks
for the clouds.
Yes, the same ones
that spoiled your picnic,
that rained on your parade,
that flooded the soccer field.
I am thankful for clouds because
without them there'd be no rainbows, and
behind them there will always be blue skies.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Now, More Than Ever
Breathe
in hope,
then exhale
your gratitude.
Remember these truths:
students over standards,
patience over procedures,
compassion over compliance,
care over content, and grace over
gimmicks. We must humanize our teaching.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Fifth Grade Lessons
You're
only
eleven
and you're learning
life requires you to
(first and foremost) show up.
Read directions, do your best,
ask for help, give help when you can.
Put one foot in front of the other.
Never take "ordinary" for granted.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020



I wrote lots of haiku (sometimes that's all the brain space I had after a day of online teaching). Inspired by Jarrett Lerner, I kept a haiku diary for a day:

Haiku Diary for April 15

I wake up whiney

the sameness of every day

I'm on my last nerve

exercise, shower

a mug of hot tea, breakfast

sun peeks through the trees

my heart pumps, blood flows

lungs reliably inflate

some sameness is good

going to work means

down the hall into office

alone/together

Google Meet is fine

but like all the rest of life

you have to show up

food delivery

a small thing for us to do

makes a big difference

lunchtime luxury

listen to a podcast

nurture my spirit

hours and hours of screens

my brain is totally fried

the cure is ice cream

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Here are two of the stories I told. The first one is 100% true, but the second one is mostly fiction. In the first stanza, I am the Grandma, the second stanza is me, the third stanza is fiction (after the first line, anyway!), and the fourth stanza is where I was and what I was doing when I wrote the poem.

I Have a New Friend
I have a new friend.
We've never met.
She chalks art and exercise challenges on the sidewalk.
She leaves the chalk out.
I write and draw my thanks.
Her chalk sticks became a pile of chalk pebbles.
I left a package on her porch --
Highlights magazines and gently used sidewalk chalk.
She left a package on my porch --
coloring pages, crayons and markers, four Cra-Z-Loom bracelets.
And a note.
I have a new friend named Annie.
We've never met.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Lunch

When Grandma was a girl
she sometimes walked home from school for lunch.
She remembers grilled cheese and tomato soup,
kidney beans and cheese on toast,
peanut butter and honey sandwiches.

Now that school is in my house,
I eat lunch at home every day.
I like to eat the same thing I did at school --
pretzels and a cheese stick, veggies and a fruit.
Keeping lunch the same helps me remember the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was loud and messy.
I traded pretzels for bites of sushi or mini Oreos.
After lunch was recess. I miss recess --
the swings, the big toy, even the muddy soccer field.
I even miss indoor recess.

Sitting on my porch
eating my not-a-school-lunch
at home-is-now-school,
I close my eyes in the sun, listen to the birds,
and remember everything I miss about school.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Liz has the Poetry Friday Roundup for today at her blog Elizabeth Steinglass. Happy May!

Poetry Friday -- Living is a Form of Not Being Sure

Living is a form of not being sure, 

not knowing what next or how.

The moment you know how, you begin to die a little.

The artist never entirely knows.

We guess.

We may be wrong, 

but we take leap after leap into the dark.

--Agnes de Mille

Living is a Form of Not Being Sure

There are all kinds of dark.

You close your eyes in fear, exhaustion, or prayer

and dark is there.

The sun sets, the clouds roll in, you step into shade

and dark is there.

Your mind fills with unmarked roads, closed doors, gaping chasms

and dark is there.

There are all kinds of light.

You open your eyes in hope, anticipation, or gratitude

and light is there.

The sun rises, the clouds roll on, you step into sunshine

and light is there.

Your mind takes leap after leap into the dark, guessing, risking

and light is always there.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020 (with help from Agnes de Mille)

Amy has this week's Poetry Friday Roundup at The Poem Farm.

The Flipside: My National Poetry Month Project for 2020

My Joy

I see
you on my screen.
Hear your voice, check your work.
But I miss the reality
of you.

Your face --
pixilated --
so close, and yet so far.
No matter the distance, you are
my joy.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020


This poem is a pair of cinquains. They were written in response to Liz Garton Scanlon's prompt.

So much about the world right now is scary and uncertain. That was always true, but it is in-our-faces true now. At the same time, there are amazing acts of generosity, compassion, connectedness, and creativity that are happening because of These Unprecedented Times. For myself, for my students, for my readers, I wanted to write poems this month that remind us what's on the flipside of the scary uncertainty.

Heidi has the first Poetry Friday Roundup of National Poetry Month 2020 at her blog, my juicy little universe.

Happy Birthday, Robert Frost

Tree At My Window

by Robert Frost

Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.

Vague dream head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.

But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.

That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.

The picture above is not the tree at my window, but it is the first tree I've seen in full bloom this spring. I wish you could have been there to see the cloud of bees buzzing hungrily amongst the blossoms. 

There was a crabapple tree outside my window growing up, and I memorized "Tree at My Window" in high school as a tribute to her. I need to re-memorize it. Maybe this could be my new hand-washing poem. I've been using "Loveliest of Trees the Cherry Now" and "Barter." My "playlist" could use some variety. 

My real reason for sharing this poem is that today is Robert Frost's birthday. And amazingly, though I've shared MANY of my Robert Frost favorites over the years (some, multiple times), I've never shared this one. It was the phrase "outside my window" in this Incidental Comics that reminded me of "Tree at My Window." (The comic also made tears spring to my eyes and his comments about the comic validated my NPM theme...more on that later.) Robert Frost's poems are wise and timeless. Here's to the all the best we humans have and will make, and here's to the things upon which we can rely, like Spring and Poetry Friday. Tabatha has the Poetry Friday Roundup this week at The Opposite of Indifference.

Poetry Friday -- That Unexpected Something

Photo via Unsplash

Not silence, but close:

No noise wafts from the freeway

Just the trees dripping

©Mary Lee Hahn

Ron Padgett has a poem, "Advice to Young Writers." In it, he advises writers to "find/that unexpected something..." 

When I think back on the day today, my unexpected something has to be the silence this morning as I walked in the dark. Usually, I can hear traffic on the nearby freeway. Not today. Usually, there are lots of cars on the street -- early birds heading to work. Not today. Today, the unexpected extraordinary thing was the silence. All I could hear were the trees dripping from yesterday's delugenous (my invented word) rains.

Be sure to follow the link to Padgett's poem. You'll see that he's got more to say on the subject, and the ending might make you snort, so put your tea down.

Michelle Kogan has the First Full Day of Spring Poetry Friday Roundup today. No matter what, Happy Spring!

Poetry Friday: Election Security

via Unsplash

"Who will stop the people who want to cheat?" 

-- Tabatha Yeatts

I joined Tabatha in writing Election Security poems this week. I managed a nonet, but I have two others still struggling to leave draft form. One features a squirrel burying acorns, and another that will double as a response to Buffy's DMC challenge, if I can just figure out the last stanza!


Your Vote Only Counts If It’s Counted (A Nonet)

Your
ballot:
analog,
not digital,
not ephemeral.
In your hand. Palpable.
A vote that will be counted.
An actual piece of paper
holding officials responsible.

© 2020 Mary Lee Hahn

Cheriee has the Poetry Friday roundup this week at Library Matters.

Poetry Friday -- When They See You

Via Unsplash

Valentine Letter From Shadiya

I Love you so much
I ned you so much Miss Hahn
I nau you is so tieard
because I see yor pekchar in the book
I want show you your pekchar in 2018
You is so nice Miss Hahn
I see yor pekchar in the book
my firend has the book
you is so difrend in 2018 and 2020
I see you
and I see you is so tieard
if you ned hilpp
I can hilpp you.


Shadiya was new to the U.S. this fall. She is from Kurdistan, and speaks a rare dialect of Kurdish that has left her linguistically isolated in ways that none of our other EL students experience. There are no bilingual aides available to help her navigate our world. Every bit of English and our 5th grade curriculum that she has conquered has been won with grit and determination.

She must have always had this big heart we see in her letter to me, and it gives me comfort that the harsh reality of her isolation has not made her bitter and withdrawn. Rather, it has sweetened her already good nature like the boiling down of maple sap to make syrup. She begins and ends every day by giving me a hug. She keeps me centered and helps me remember why I do what I do.

Thank you, Shadiya. Yes, I am "so tieard" this year. But where would I be without you?

Happy Valentine's Day! I hope someone touches your heart like mine has been touched! Check out the Poetry Friday Roundup at TeacherDance.

Poetry Friday -- Some Things Never Change

Charlotte Perkins Gilman was born on July 3, 1860

The Socialist and the Suffragist

by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Said the Socialist to the Suffragist:
“My cause is greater than yours!
You only work for a Special Class,
We work for the gain of the General Mass,
Which every good ensures!”

Said the Suffragist to the Socialist:
“You underrate my Cause!
While women remain a Subject Class,
You never can move the General Mass,
With your Economic Laws!”

Said the Socialist to the Suffragist:
“You misinterpret facts!
There is no room for doubt or schism
In Economic Determinism–
It governs all our acts!”

Said the Suffragist to the Socialist:
“You men will always find
That this old world will never move
More swiftly in its ancient groove
While women stay behind!”

“A lifted world lifts women up,”
The Socialist explained.
“You cannot lift the world at all
While half of it is kept so small,”
The Suffragist maintained.

The world awoke, and tartly spoke:
“Your work is all the same:
Work together or work apart,
Work, each of you, with all your heart–
Just get into the game!”

This poem is in the public domain.

Does this bickering sound familiar? 

"MY side is right!" 

"No, MY side is right!!"

I'm with the world -- "Stop fighting and get to work -- make things better!" (...she said in her sternest, tartest Teacher Voice.)

Jone has the Poetry Friday Roundup this week at Deowriter.