I Don't Mind Failing

Language alert: if watching the video with children, be prepared to hit the mute button at :33-:38 and 4:15-4:20. Also, apologies (and gratitude) to William Carlos Williams.

This is Just to Say 

I have failed
the test
that measures
my worth

and which
you were probably
planning to use
to pigeonhole me

Forgive me
I refuse your labels
I am deliciously
worthy and capable


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017





Sing It, Malvina!

April 1 -- Working for Change
April 2 -- A Lifetime Filled With Change
April 3 -- Red
April 4 -- Little Red Hen
April 5 -- Childhood Dreams
April 6 -- Lonely Child
April 7 -- Quiet

April 8 -- Storyteller

April 9 -- Troublemaker

April 10 -- Girl Power

April 11 -- Choices

April 12 -- My Gal, Mother Nature

April 13 -- Not a Joke

April 14 -- I Don't Mind Failing

Dori has the Poetry Friday Roundup this week at Dori Reads.

Not a Joke

Not a Joke

Isn’t it funny
(not a joke
no humor
no puns)
Isn’t it funny
how war creates a necessity
that strips away all the labels
previously preventing a person’s
life work?

Isn’t it funny
(not a joke
no humor
no puns)
Isn’t it funny
how the devastation of war
creates industries
and builds an economy out of
destruction?

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017




“My mother was writing her dissertation when I was little and got her Ph.D. in 1939. But it was the middle of the Depression; she was Jewish, a socialist, and a woman; and she couldn’t get a job teaching. But when the Second World War broke out, she got a job on an assembly line in a bomb factory, and Bud went to work as a carpenter in a shipyard.”

http://www.harvardsquarelibrary.org/biographies/malvina-reynolds/

My Gal, Mother Nature

“...it was while doing graduate work in English there (University of California Berkeley) that she did some student teaching. She used pop songs to teach her high school students about rhyme scheme and meter, as they were not poetry readers."

http://www.harvardsquarelibrary.org/biographies/malvina-reynolds/

Malvina Reynolds would have been at Berkeley in the 1920's, and "Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue" was a popular song then. Perhaps it was one she used to teach about rhyme scheme and meter.

Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue
Words: Sam M. Lewis and Joseph Widow Young; Music: Ray Henderson (1925)

Five foot two, eyes of blue,
but oh, what those five foot could do:
has anybody seen my gal?

Turned-up nose, turned-down hose
Flapper? Yes sir, one of those
Has anybody seen my gal?

Now, if you run into
a five-foot-two
covered with fur,
Diamond rings,
and all those things,
Bet your life it isn't her

But could she love, could she woo!
Could she, could she, could she coo!
Has anybody seen my gal?




My Gal, Mother Nature

Birds and bees, rocks and trees
Oh the breeze and green green leaves
Has anybody seen my gal?

Skies of blue, rivers too
Nature? Yes we need her hues
Has anybody seen my gal?

Now if the skies are hazed
Parks are paved
Trash everywhere,
Species dead
Sewage spread
Bet your life there’s no clean air

The temps are high, could she die?
Could she, could she, could she die?
Has anybody seen my gal?

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017

Choices

Choices

Even the right man
Must wait for the right time
Because mother is right
That “career first” is the right path.

But when you're on the left path
Your heart keeps looking for the right man
You left behind
For all the right reasons


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017






“It was while she was in high school that Malvina first met William “Bud” Reynolds, at a socialist dance. He was a merchant seaman, seven years older, handsome, and even more shy than she. He was self-educated, having left school after the eighth grade. They read poetry to each other in Golden Gate Park, but when he proposed, she refused. Encouraged by her mother, she had her sights set on college and a career.

She married someone else, and so did Bud. He ran for governor of Michigan on the Socialist ticket, with the slogan, “You provide the evictions, we’ll provide the riots!” They found each other again after she was divorced, and this time she said yes.”

http://www.harvardsquarelibrary.org/biographies/malvina-reynolds/

Girl Power

GIRL POWER

Gentle and meek are things of the past.
I am
Ready to take on the world. To
Lead,
Persist, and
Open doors
With my own talents, my own skills, and my own
Expertise. World, are you
Ready for me?

©Mary Lee Hahn

Troublemaker

Troublemaker
(Ever so slightly to the tune of "Little Boxes")

When we want
What they’ve got
And we ask for it
In the right ways
And the logic’s there
And the signatures
And they still tell us NO

Then we don’t stop
And we’re not quiet
And we make them
Pay attention now
To the voices
Of the people
Who pursue what they’re due.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017

"I had first come to the attention of the principal’s office with a premature women’s liberation movement on the school grounds. At noon, the boys could leave the grounds to play around on the streets and to get hot dogs, hamburgers, coffee, and pop at the little store across the street. I circulated a petition that the girls be allowed out of the yard at noon also. The answer was no. It wasn’t proper for girls to be on the street. [The girls then asked that the boys be restricted, and were told] if the school tried to restrict the boys they’d just climb the fence. Probably in the same situation now, the girls would climb the fence. Then, nothing happened except that quiet, shy me was fingered as a troublemaker."

http://www.harvardsquarelibrary.org/biographies/malvina-reynolds/

Storyteller

Storyteller

Storyteller, storyteller
come on out.
Tell us a story.
What’s it about?
Pirates or dragons,
a farm or a zoo?
Zebras? Lions?
Kangaroo?

Storyteller, storyteller
spin us a yarn.
Make it a good one,
one that will charm.
One full of laughter,
or one full of fear--
no matter what you tell
all of us will cheer!

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017

"The times I have been happiest were the rare times when I was one of a gang….I had a kind of gang when we lived on Buchanan Street [in San Francisco]. I must have been seven or eight. We would sit in the light of the street lamp in the evening on the high wooden flight of stairs, a dozen of us, and while the bigger boys played “One Foot Off the Gutter,” I would make up long stories to tell the others. I don’t remember what the stories were about, but they must have been interesting; I can remember the young voices in the evening, calling me to come out."

http://www.harvardsquarelibrary.org/biographies/malvina-reynolds/

Progressive Poem -- Line #8

Go ahead. Skip to the bottom of the post. Read my line. I know you want to. :-)

Short introduction for the uninitiated: Progressive poem, written one line at a time, one day at a time for the month of April. Tradition started by Irene Latham. Check the sidebar to follow along as the poem grows.

*  *  *

Didn't Heidi get us started off with a line full of pure possibility? She introduced our character.

I’m fidget, friction, ragged edges—

Then Tabatha gave us some show-not-tell action to help us get to know our character better. We've got a storyteller here (or at least, a story sprouter...hmm...a magical plant?).

I sprout stories that frazzle-dazzle,

Along comes Dori, who takes the word stories and cracks it open just a bit for us.

stories of castles, of fires that crackle,

Michelle linked the words fire and stories in a surprising way. Is our character a dragon?

with dragonwords that smoke and sizzle.

Diane established stanzas of four lines and a bit of conflict...

But edges sometimes need sandpaper,

...and Kat elaborated. (No, Kat, we won't change your Aussie spelling of vapour!)

like swords need stone and clouds need vapour.

Yesterday, Irene got our character ready for action...but without armour (don't you love how she gave Kat that wink?!)

So I shimmy out of my spurs and armour

And now I'm left to decide the action our character might take. Or would take if this were my own poem and not this big, messy, fun, collaborative, surprising thing it is every year  (this is our SEVENTH!!).

Our character might be a girl. That happens a lot in stories. So our character might be a boy. A boy who does atypical things. A boy who is searching for his true identity, who is willing to lose the frazzle-dazzle storytelling and the costume he's wearing, in order to try living honestly in his own skin. Yeah. I like that. For right now, in this small moment of Line Eight, that's who this poem is about for me. So what gift can I give to this child, what gift for all children who are in that tricky spot of growing up, when they have to take off the princess dress or the super hero cape and find out who they really are? 

(There are a lot of F words early on, and a lot of S words in the past 5 lines. Did you notice that? And we don't seem to be keeping to any syllable count or regular rhyme scheme...Can you tell I'm writing this line in my head as I write this post?)

facing the day as my fickle, freckled self.

Yes! I love it! And yes, I did go read Pied Beauty by Gerard Manley Hopkins before I chose my words because it occurred to me that this character could be part of what Hopkins was praising -- so I borrowed "fickle, freckled" from him. I don't think he'd mind! And lookie there -- I used F sounds and S sounds in my line!! (A peek at the final edits: The line was originally "ready to face the day as my fickle, freckled self." Our character was going to FACE the day, but I went to the thesaurus and decided on BRAVE as a synonym that packs just a bit more punch, even though I'd have to lose an F sound. Then I read through the whole poem, including my line, and the rhythm seemed off, plus, I really really loved that F sound. So I went back to FACE the day. Then I had to consider the necessity of the word and...keep? lose? keep? lose? We already have a but and a so in this stanza...I'm going for the verb, folks! Fidget, friction, fickle, freckled...say that five times fast!)

Go forth, brave character! Whether or not you turn out to be seeking your true identity, or if other amazing adventures await you in this poem, we've launched you out the door. Have fun, Linda! Give us hints as to what THE DAY will hold for our character, whoever he or she or he/she might be!



I’m fidget, friction, ragged edges—
I sprout stories that frazzle-dazzle,
stories of castles, of fires that crackle,
with dragonwords that smoke and sizzle.


But edges sometimes need sandpaper,
like swords need stone and clouds need vapour.
So I shimmy out of my spurs and armour

facing the day as my fickle, freckled self.

Quiet

Quiet

Sometimes
it takes a lot of loud
to be noticed.
Roar your truth
in a pride of lions.
Demand change
with signs and signatures.
Surge with the chanting crowd
and be heard.

However
you don’t need loud
to be strong.
Sing your truth
as confidently as a single wren.
Gently nudge change
to the tune of genuine smiles.
Harmonize in a chorus
of allies.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017

Sing It, Malvina! 

April 1 -- Working for Change
April 2 -- A Lifetime Filled With Change
April 3 -- Red
April 4 -- Little Red Hen
April 5 -- Childhood Dreams
April 6 -- Lonely Child
April 7 -- Quiet


Irene has the Poetry Friday Roundup (and the next line of the Progressive Poem) today at Live Your Poem. Come back here tomorrow for the 8th line of the Progressive Poem!

Lonely Child

Lonely Child

I’m quiet
She’s loud
I like alone
She likes a crowd

I’m shy
She’s bold
She likes to tell
I like to be told

I’m a cloud
She’s a storm
Hard to believe
Someday I’ll perform

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017





"I was a lonely child; I can’t remember any friends in grade school except Esther. Why she picked quiet, shy me for a friend, I don’t know. She was bold, laughing, quick. She would sit back of me in school and slowly pull one hair out of my braid. Miss Geary would say, “Hit her! With your ruler!” I never would. I liked Miss Geary. I intended to be a teacher, and would be like her—a good sport….I am still shy with people. I can easily face and talk with and sing to a hundred or a thousand. But at a party, next to a stranger, I haven’t much to say."


http://www.harvardsquarelibrary.org/biographies/malvina-reynolds/