Poetry Friday -- Inspired By

The poem of the day today from Poets.org is Day 29 (2020) by Jamila Woods. Her poem was inspired by Things I Didn't Know I Loved by Nazim Hikmet.

My poem-draft is inspired by both of them.

image via Unsplash

Things I Didn't Know I Loved

it's January 1st 2021

i'm sitting at the kitchen table

my hands are cold

but the space heater warms my feet

i never knew i liked

being warm and cold at the same time

it's like

winter lap swimming

the steamy heat of the natatorium

the shocking cold of the water

the satisfaction of having swum

it's also like sweet and salty

i've always known i liked

sweet and salty

pancakes with bacon

chocolate pretzels

icing on crackers

it's nothing like clutter and order

or is it

i used to hate the clutter in my mother's house

my apartment was clean and empty

i was young

now i'm sitting at the kitchen table

my hands are cold

i'm crowded by books lists mugs 

pencil case glasses case stacks of mail

pens in a cup headphones cat toys and

only the words on this page

have any semblance of order

at least my feet are warm

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021 (draft)

Ruth has the first Poetry Friday Roundup of 2021 at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town.

Poetry Friday -- Spark!

In the podcast Poetry Unbound, Pádraig Ó Tuama always begins with something like "One of the things I love most about poetry is..." and that thing he loves leads to the encapsulation of the poem he's featuring. With that small bit in mind, we listen to the poem, then he zooms in and deconstructs the meanings and the craft moves in the poem. After he takes you deep inside a poem, you get to hear him read it one more time, and it's almost like hearing a new poem.

Let's try it.

One of the things I love most about poetry is the way it sometimes works like postcards or snapshots from another time. With just a few words, the poet moves us through time and space with their words and images.

SIX WEEKS ONE SUMMER

1985
After the first job,
before the second degree.
Between.

Blue Highways
South -- tobacco fields
West -- Navajo Nation
North -- regal mountains

Soundtrack
box of cassette tapes
meadowlark on a fencepost
AM radio

Souvenirs
single finger wave
small town hospitality
sense of direction

The longer I've written poetry and read poetry, I realize how often poems are about journeys of one kind or another. One thing that stands out for me about this poem is the stanza titles, which seem almost like notes scrawled on the backs of photos that have been tucked in an album. They also give each stanza a particular job within the poem, first letting the reader know the setting in time and place, then giving sensory details, and ending with a list.

In each of the stanzas, the details are concrete and vivid. Each of the places in the second stanza are iconic to the region, yet one can imagine that experienced from the "Blue Highways" of the stanza's title, they were more than simply stereotypical. The cassette tapes are a reminder that this is 1985, and the meadowlark and AM radio give a sense of the isolation of the journey. In the last stanza, the alliteration serves to stitch the three images together.

The title of the poem, "Six Weeks One Summer," gives one version of the time frame for the poem, while the first stanza pans out to the big picture of the speaker's life trajectory. The second stanza gives a sense of the scope of the journey in the poem. The final stanza brings the reader and the speaker back full circle with the list of souvenirs from the trip. The last line returns the reader's attention to the beginning, where the speaker is in a place "between," and lets the reader know that after six weeks of circling the country, the speaker has gained perspective and a sense of direction.

SIX WEEKS ONE SUMMER

1985
After the first job,
before the second degree.
Between.

Blue Highways
South -- tobacco fields
West -- Navajo Nation
North -- regal mountains

Soundtrack
box of cassette tapes
meadowlark on a fencepost
AM radio

Souvenirs
single finger wave
small town hospitality
sense of direction

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Thank you for "listening" to my Pádraig Ó Tuama-style "podcast" about my poem. Here is the inspiration piece via Amy Souza's Spark project that I was provided for my writing:

"Finding Your Way" by Victoria Nessen

Buffy has this week's Poetry Friday Roundup at her blog Buffy Silverman, and there's ONE spot left on the roundup schedule for the next 6 months.

Happy Poetry! Happy Friday!

Poetry Friday

I joined Spark for the first time. Spark 46, the last round for 2020. A creativity challenged seemed like good way to end this wackadoodle year. 

Here is a poem I'm NOT submitting for the piece of art I can't show you yet:

MEANDER (an “In One Word” poem)

Amend
your dream
of reaching that destination. Rename
this aspiration “journey.” Endear
yourself to this dare.
When you find yourself near
fulfillment, read
the landscape, know what you need,
veer toward a new end.

Wandering is a pleasure earned.
Ramble your amen.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Here are some celebrations from #NCTE2020 last weekend, not the least of which is the recipient of the Excellence in Poetry for Children Award, Janet Wong!

Carol W. has the Thanksgiving Edition Poetry Friday Roundup at Carol's Corner.

Poetry Friday: Haiku Diary

 I got way behind posting my daily haiku on Twitter with #haikudiary and #poeticdiversion, but I kept at it in my notebook. Here are the week's snippets:

Friday, 11/6

Poetry Friday

digital, virtual

still magical

Saturday, 11/7

everywhere I look

red and blue harmonize

naturally

Sunday, 11/8

unseasonable heat

restacking the woodpile

Monday, 11/9

midday walk at the farm

no blue birds, but a monarch

don't dawdle

Tuesday, 11/10

rollercoaster

almost tears at lunchtime

almost

Wednesday, 11/11

Oh, to go fishing --

rippling water, leaping trout --

instead...more work.

Thursday, 11/12

Google My Maps

Where do you want to visit?
Dreaming our futures.

Robyn Hood Black (Queen of the Haiku) has this week's Poetry Friday roundup at Life on the Deckle Edge. 

Poetry Friday -- Autumn Acrostic

a tree in our neighborhood

 

At first, it goes

Unnoticed.

Then it is

Undeniable. Almost like

Magic, summer is gone.

No more shorts and swimsuits.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020 (with input from students on the last line)

My original last like was "naked trees," but "naked" is still a squirmy word for fifth graders (which I LOVE), so I gladly accepted this perfectly child-centric alternative last line.

We have been blessed with a glorious autumn, but my heart goes out to those who have had drought and fires, hurricanes and flooding. 

Jama's serving up warm cider and donuts with an autumn poem which, like mine last week, features an apple orchard. It's all kinds of perfect. Head over to the Poetry Friday Roundup at Jama's Alphabet Soup and check it out.

Poetry Friday -- Letting Go and Holding On

Being a Remote Learning Academy teacher is a non-stop life lesson in letting go of what's not important right now, or what's overwhelming right now, or what just won't work through a screen. On the flipside, it is also a non-stop life lesson in holding tightly to all the things that are most important.

Read aloud is one of those most important things for sure. The workshop model, too. I'm kinda sorta making workshop work. Word Game Wednesday is alive and thriving. And I've managed to bring back Poetry Friday. 

I gave my students a slide show filled with some of my photos for inspiration. We started with 15 Words or Less and Haiku. Five students have poems they're willing to share today. I copied their slides into a Poetry Friday slide show, and today after we share, I'll offer a new challenge: write a Nonet.

Here is the Nonet I wrote as their mentor text:

Puff
of wish,
globe of stars,
summer snowflake,
granny in the grass.
Some say you are a weed,
but to me you are magic.
Even though I blow you to bits,
you never hold a grudge -- you spread joy.


Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

(Hat tip to Amy LV for the inspiration for the line "granny in the grass.")

Tabatha has this week's Poetry Friday roundup at The Opposite of Indifference.

Poetry Friday: Not Ponderous

 

photo via Unsplash

The World Itself is Not Ponderous

Feathers and giggles,

monarch's first flight,

petals unfurling,

equinox light.

Leaves in the fall,

bulbs in the spring,

in the yard after rain --

a fairy ring.

Fleetingly brief.

Here and then gone.

Like the flash of lightning,

or a chickadee's song.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

I am joining the Poetry Seven's monthly challenge to explore "ponderous" or "hippo" or both. I went with "or neither" when I got weighed down (ponderously) by The Heavy Issues of Humankind. I did so want to include the factoid that the collective noun for hippos is a bloat. But that poem didn't happen. What I realized became the title of my poem, which was written in one of the "flipside" parts (if you remember my NPM project) of remote teaching -- two hours of silence while I proctored a test through my screen. 

Happy Autumn! Happy Almost October!

Jone has the Poetry Friday roundup this week at her new website.

Poetry Friday: Dear Candy Corn

 

image via Unsplash

Dear Candy Corn,

 

Thank you for your jolt of too-much sweetness

at the end of a too-long day

that was packed with too-much

of just about everything.

 

I have had enough.

 

One small handful of you,

one day like today.

 

I have had enough.

 

 

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

Carol has the Poetry Friday roundup this week at Beyond Literacy Link.

Poetry Friday -- Surprise

image via Unsplash

 

heavy humid air

a skunk was surprised nearby

exclamation scent

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020

This will be the year that I'm almost drowning almost all the time. But I've made a couple of promises to myself. I will write a bit (even if a few words) each day. I will maintain my exercise. Earlier this week, I composed this poem in my head as I walked in the early morning darkness. A two-fer!

Heidi has the Poetry Friday roundup this week at my juicy little universe.

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 -- 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

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 -- 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 -- Schooled

foggy view of the sheep farm by our school

It was foggy yesterday.
On my early morning walk,
I considered ways to describe fog.
None were new:
it shrouds and blankets and conceals,
it muffles and oozes,
smooth and thick.
Of course it sneaks,
famously tiptoeing.
It is pensive, introverted,
secretive, and calming.

Later, I asked my students to describe fog.
Suddenly, fog was new again:
clouds too lazy to float,
earth auditioning for a scary movie,
floating water,
clouds coming down to say hi.

At that moment,
I was the fog
and they were the sun,
illuminating new ways
to see the world.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020



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

Poetry Friday -- Advice

Unsplash photo by Joel Muniz

Be kind to yourself. 

Empty your bucket and then... 

be kind to yourself.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019

"Never be afraid 

of showing someone you love 

a draft of yourself."

(from the author's note in EVERYONE BRAVE IS FORGIVEN by Chris Cleave)

I'm sure I'm not the only one whose bucket is or has been empty. These #haikuforkindness are a reminder that we need to take care of ourselves. There can be no #haikuforjustice if we don't put the oxygen mask on ourselves first.

 

Tanita has the Poetry Friday roundup at [fiction, instead of lies].

Giving Thanks for Poetry Friday!

Thanku: Poems of Gratitude inspired my Thanku/Haiku-a-Day this month. I managed to get November 1-15 onto Twitter, and I'm back on Twitter with November 26-30. Here are the ones that were written, but never made it to Twitter!

11/16
Deer in the headlights.
Same spot: hawk swoops low with prey.
Blessings from the wild.

11/17
Step, step...mind elsewhere...
suddenly...no step...PANIC!
Floor, meet hands and knees.

11/18
Irresponsible.
Antiques Roadshow was a splurge
and I'll pay for it.

11/19
Final Prep Thanku
two days of sub plans
hours and hours and hours of work
then just walk away

11/20
Travel Day Thanku
For the traffic jam
NOT on our side of the road --
relieved gratitude.

11/21
Award Selection Day Thanku
A day of hard work:
laughter, talk, perspectives shared.
Not just the books won.

11/22
Presentation Day Thanku
Bad sleep, up early,
back-to-back schedule ready.
Right now--calm. Quiet.

11/23
Almost the End of Conference Thanku
complete exhaustion
sleep wraps you in its blanket
cradles you gently

11/24
Driving Home Thanku
Ridge top silhouette--
bare November trees, silo.
Evening sky--one star.

11/25
Words Spoken Upon Releasing Into the Garden the Spider I Captured on My Office Wall
Dear Tiny Spider,
Life has infinite value.
For yours, I give thanks.


Bridget Magee at Wee Words For Wee Ones has the Poetry Friday Roundup all the way from Switzerland this week! I'm EXTRA glad to be back after my longest absence ever.

The call for roundup hosts for Poetry Fridays January 2020-June 2020 is also ready for dates to be claimed!