Poetry Friday -- Timing is Everything

Lake Michigan, Indiana Dunes State Park

timing is everything

how we measure the seconds between
     toast and charcoal
     insult and injury
     impact and airbag
hands up, palms forward--stop!

how we measure the seconds between
     boom and sparkle
     joke and punchline
     notice and wonder
hands out, palms cupped--more!


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017



I took the title of my poem from today's poem at The Writer's Almanac. Gerald Locklin uses the timing of one event for his poem, but I got to thinking about the range of emotions possible within brief moments. What are some moments you'd like to have stopped or to held onto?

Katie has the Poetry Friday roundup today at The Logonauts.

Time Flies

by Hugh MacLeod at Gaping Void

Poetry Friday: Perpetual Impasse

Flickr Creative Commons photo by Vincent van der Pas

Perpetual Impasse

Outstretched arms reach,

hail,

implore,

shrug.

Open hands caress

tenderly,

fleetingly, 

forgivingly.

Blank face stares.

Unresponsive,

emotionless,

frozen.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2014

When I sat down to write this morning, I thought I would do a bit of "line lifting." My physical therapy exercise sheets are sitting right there on the kitchen table and I jotted down "Active range of motion."

As I sipped my tea, the clocks ticked and chimed. And my poem went off in a direction I never expected.

That's what I love most about writing: the surprises.

*   *   *   *   *   *   

While we're on the subject of time, it's TIME to sign up for the Poetry Friday roundups for July-December. You can do that here.

And it's TIME for you to head over to today's roundup at Catherine Johnson's blog.

Happy Friday!

Poetry Friday -- Giving Thanks

Flickr Creative Commons Photo by prettywar-stl

In Praise of My Bed

by Meredith Holmes

At last I can be with you!

The grinding hours

since I left your side!

The labor of being fully human,

working my opposable thumb,

talking, and walking upright.

(read the whole poem here, and sigh at the end)

Whew! Made it to the intermediate finish line known as Thanksgiving Break! First trimester report cards done and sent, we have at least a shell of a plan for second trimester instruction, and while the multiple final and pre-assessments given over the past two weeks have not been graded, at least there is a bit of breathing room to do so. 

I'm giving thanks for breathing room: time for sleeping in and napping, time for writing and reading, time for slowing down to a more reasonable pace.

Carol has the Poetry Friday roundup this week at Carol's Corner.

Poetry Friday: Il Tempo Corre

CLOCK
by Linda Pastan


Sometimes it really upsets me—
the way the clock's hands keep moving,

even when I'm just sitting here
not doing anything at all,

not even thinking about anything
except, right now, about that clock

and how it can't keep its hands still.

(read the rest of the poem at The Writer's Almanac)

We play against it, set records based on it, get hit in the head with it, try to stop it or run it out, watch it...and its hands just keep moving.

clock ¹ |kläk|
ORIGIN late Middle English: from Middle Low German and Middle Dutch klocke, based on medieval Latin clocca ‘bell.’ 

noun
a mechanical or electrical device for measuring time, indicating hours, minutes, and sometimes seconds, typically by hands on a round dial or by displayed figures.
• (the clock) time taken as a factor in an activity, esp. in competitive sports: they play against the clock | her life is ruled by the clock.
• informal a measuring device resembling a clock for recording things other than time, such as a speedometer, taximeter, or odometer.

verb [ with obj. ]
1 attain or register (a specified time, distance, or speed): Thomas has clocked up forty years service | [ no obj. ] : the book clocks in at 989 pages.
• achieve (a victory): he clocked up his first win of the year.
• record as attaining a specified time or rate: the tower operators clocked a gust of 185 mph.
2 informal hit (someone), esp. on the head: someone clocked him for no good reason.

PHRASES
around (or round ) the clock all day and all night: working around the clock.
run out the clock Sports deliberately use as much time as possible in order to preserve one's own team's advantage: facing a tie, he decided to run out the clock in the final moments.
stop the clock allow extra time by temporarily ceasing to count the time left before a deadline arrives: he agreed to stop the clock as negotiations continued.
turn (or put ) back the clock return to the past or to a previous way of doing things.
watch the clock (of an employee) be overly strict or zealous about not working more than one's required hours.

PHRASAL VERBS
clock in (or out )(of an employee) punch in (or out).

When the clock chimes 12:00 AM on January 1, 2013, I'll shout out a HAPPY NEW YEAR to you and the world. 

In the meantime, sign up for a Jan-June Poetry Friday roundup slot here. 

Carol has today's round up at Carol's Corner. 

Poetry Friday -- Today (Call for Poetry Friday Roundup Hosts)

One Day

by Robert Creeley

One day after another—
Perfect.
They all fit.

When I first read and chose this poem, I loved it while thinking small -- "One day after another" this weekend, or this school year. But when I went to look for a picture, my eyes gravitated toward the ones I took last week (only last week/already a week ago?) at the Field Museum in Chicago. Then "One day after another" expanded, and I remembered the feeling of minuscularity I got when I walked through the scientific creation story of our planet. The improbable perfection of our planet is quite overwhelming when you slow down and study how everything fits.

I also chose today's poem to honor the march of time since last we queued up for hosting the Poetry Friday Roundups. Is it really possible that six more months of weekly bloggerly camaraderie around poetry have gone by, "one (Fri)day after another"?

Indeed so. If you'd like to host one of the roundups in 2012, leave the date you choose in the comments. This will be our record of "first ask, first get." I'll update the calendar throughout the day (and probably the next couple of weeks), so check before you ask.

Heidi has the roundup today at my juicy little universe. 

January

6 JoAnn at Teaching Authors

13 Tara at A Teaching Life

20 Elaine at Wild Rose Reader

27 Jim at Hey, Jim Hill!

February

3 Karissa at The Iris Chronicles

10 Laura at Writing the World for Kids

17 Myra at Gathering Books

24 Jone at Check it Out

March

2 Dori at Dori Reads

9 Myra at Gathering Books

16 Gregory K. at GottaBook

23 Mary Lee at A Year of Reading

30 Heidi at my juicy little universe

April

6 Robyn at Read, Write Howl

13 Anastasia at Booktalking

20 Diane at Random Noodling

27 Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference

May

4 Elaine at Wild Rose Reader

11 Irene at Live. Love. Explore!

18 Katya at Write. Sketch. Repeat.

25 Linda at TeacherDance

June

1 Carol at Carol's Corner

8 Jama at Jama's Alphabet Soup

15 Mary Lee at A Year of Reading

22 Amy at The Poem Farm

29 Marjorie at Paper Tigers

Poetry Friday -- Time Does Not Stand Still

TIME DOES NOT STAND STILL

It's been said before
(a million-million times)
but it bears repeating:
time is a river that does not
(cannot)
stand still and wait for me.

--I remember the exact moment I learned to float on my back in the cold blue water of the swimming pool. I lay there looking up at the cloudless sky, sun on my face, roar of water in my ears. Floating. I floated until someone came and stood me up and told me that swimming lessons were over.--

Today I will try floating
on the river of time
instead of thrashing my arms and legs against the never ending current,
instead of racing to beat it to some place where no finish line exists.


© Mary Lee Hahn, 2011




It's good to be back, after two weeks in Belgium. Simultaneously, it's hard to be back, after two weeks in Belgium.

It's impossible not to think about time when you're in a place where the 1800's are recent history. The image above is the remaining fragment of the original city wall of Brussels. The river of time has clearly moved on and stranded it there in the midst of modern life.

It's impossible not to think about time when the new school year wakes you up and leaves you sleepless in the cricket-dark of the early morning.

Karen is hosting today's Poetry Friday round up at Karen Edmisten: The Blog With The Shockingly Clever Title. (I love writing that!) Many thanks to Kate and Libby for rounding up my scheduled PF posts the past two weeks while I was away!