Check It Out

No, I have not mixed up the days.  I know this is Monday. I know this is the day reserved for nonfiction.  Thank goodness poetry is non-fiction. I must talk about the book of poetry I stumbled into over the weekend.

The first weekend in May is usually the “college girls” weekend, in which my friends from college have gotten together for about 18 years.  This year, however, it fell apart, things came up for just about everyone. That was the bad news.  The good news was that my husband and the pooches and I drove to Seaside, OR spending the weekend with our friends. 

So Saturday afternoon, my friend Barbara, my husband and I decided to hit the local bookstore, Beach Books.  We walked in just in time for  cheese, crackers, wine, and the poetry reading by Rosalee van Stelten, author of Pavlov’s Elephant.  Talk about serendipity! 

Rosalee’s poetry is visual, makes you laugh and think.  Even my poor husband( who thought we were just on a trip to the grocery store) was engaged. At one point I thought I might lose it when I looked over at him and he had his mouth covered.  Images of our teenage daughter and her first experience with melted brie flooded my brain. (She had no idea of its texture and about lost it at the table).  My husband, however, was worried that the crackers were too noisy in his mouth.

Pavlov’s Elephant is a great little addition to my personal poetry collection.  She has drawn on her own experiences to create the following categories for poems: “Knifing toward spring”, “Under the Same Small Sky”, “the petals against my flesh”, and “echoes”

I blurted out that I missed writing 30 poems in 30 days by one poem.  She shared the following in acknowledgement of my even attempting to write 30 in 30.

Begetting

Some believe
spiders hatch their eggs
by staring at them

I believe
by staring at this page
I will hatch a poem.

Oh yes, that is the way I feel some days.

The other favorite section of her are the “Echoes” poems, her own creation.  From each longer line, she uses the last word to “echo”

Cannon Beach, Oregon

before dawn                                                                                          dawn
bled into break of day, rain wrapped                                                     wrapped
the moonless beach                                                                               beach
in sheets of slate, while shorebirds                                                       shorebirds
like strewn boulders, hunched                                                               hunched
against the wailing wind,the thundering                                                thundering
surf, and cloud piled upon cloud                                                           cloud
turned all the world to grey                                                                    grey

midmorning                                                                                           midmorning
on the wet wash of a receding tide                                                        tide
a lone gull                                                                                             gull
reflecting                                                                                               reflecting

I love this. It reminds me of how I am playing with combining pantuom and haiku together.  Chicken Spaghetti is rounding up the books today.

Thanks for indulging me with my poetry book round-up today. It just could not wait until Friday.
Please visit the blog to support Bridget Zinn.
Happy Reading.

MsMac

I modeled the following list poem for students.

Library Books

Whisper to students
“pick me, pick me”
Light up with anticipation
To be the selected one
The one checked out
Library books
Shake the dust off
Each night
Limber spines bend
as they play limbo,
Dance the title tango, or
Trick the
Librarian by
Switching places with
Notable nonfiction
Library books
Recite favorite passages
Written by
favorite author, the
One who brought
then to life first
Library books
Standing still
In the quiet

Happy Reading.

MsMac

January is the month in which William Stafford was born. (January 17, 1914 to be exact). There is an event at Annie Bloom’s Books next Tuesday, I hope to go. There will be selected readers and then audience participation.  I am considering this poem to read aloud.  ”How These Words Happen” from his book, The Way It Is: New and Selected Poems.

How These Words Happen

In winter, in the dark hours, when others
were asleep, I found these words and put them
together by their appetites and respect for
each other.  In stillness, they jostled.  The traded
meanings while pretending to have only one.

Monstrous alliances never dreamed of before
began,  Sometimes they lost.  Never again
do they separate the world.  They are
together.  They have a fidelity that no
purpose of pretense can ever break.

And all this happens like magic to the words
in those dark hours when others sleep.

Such an inspiration and an amazing person who’s presence is still felt after being gone sixteen years.

Anastasia Suen rounds up Poetry Friday. Thank you, Anastasia!

Happy Reading.

MsMac (hoping her words will arrange themselves in the dark)

The wild, unpredictable weather has made me think of Robert Frost all week. 

This week I experienced a new kind of stress,  having to travel as I do to work.  It was the one of if I go to work, will I be able to get home (buying chains is on my to do list). What came to mind was the infamous lines from “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening”.

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”

I discovered this website, dedicated to the work of Robert Frost and found another poem that fits this week: 

DUST OF SNOW

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

We are planning a trip to Key West Florida  this spring. I plan to visit his Florida house.  Enjoy the week.  Merry Christmas! Happy Hannukah!  Author Amok is hosting Poetry Friday.

Happy Reading.

MsMac

I meant to get this going last night. Came home and got busy with other things.  Oops.   I am rounding up the poetry today.

For me, I am presenting poems from Ms. Padden’s fifth grade class.  She looped up with her students and wants me basically to teach writing mini-lessons around poetry this year.  Hmmm.  Yesterday I read poems from Tastes Like Chocolate, a collection of children’s poetry,  by Randi Allison, for inspiration. Here are a few drafts for Ms. Padden’s class:
Moving
Not just moving
but moving far
Not just Leaving
But leaving friends and family
Not just looking
But looking out the window and wondering why
Moving.
–Dakota, 10

Divorce
I was just three when my dad left the
house
My mom lying on the couch crying
With my brothers by her side
Hearts were broken,
My life was ruined,
sitting on my bed crying all night
I was just three when my dad left me and
my family
so young
I wonder where he could be today.
–Jessica, 5th grade

Fear
I fear tarantulas
Why are they scary Insects?
I may never know.
–Andrew S., 5th grade

I have given them a page on this blog, Ms Padden/Morishige’s Room.  The hope is as the year goes on more poetry and other writing will be posted.  Our goal is to end up with a collection of poetry by year’s end.

Great posts are coming were awaiting me at the 5 AM Pacific Standard time.  I am sure this translate into some on the east coast arriving at work as I sip my first cuppa joe at the computer.

We celebrate Thanksgiving later in November and am thinking what to bring to a great Thanksgiving potluck I will be attending. 

Here is a potluck of poetry:

From Laura Salas: 15 Words or Less poetry game here and a Pet Rock cinquain here. Mary Lee is up early for a meeting with the “The Suits” and tells me that Franki has reviewed of a new collection of poetry. Karen Edmiston is in with Jane Hirschfield this week. It’s here.  The Write Sisters present a fun poem here.  Shelelf has had quite the  week judging by  this poem. 

Becky has brought a bittersweet poem More by Andrew Peterson, in honor of her aunt.  Sara discovered a link at Borders.com to Borders Open Door Poetry Series, and one of the great poems performed there: Roger Bonair-Agard reads his poem, earth and god.

TadMack found a beautiful poem on surviving, Celebration of Surviving by Chuck Miller, and throws in  an extra Langston Hughes. Yat-Yee is thinking about some milestone birthday which happened at her house with this entry.

After eating at a large meal, we need to dance. Sylvia has a review of Hip Hop Speaks to Children.  Jim reminds us of “Love”, an original poem. 

And then if we sneak in the refrig and steal left overs, we can remember how to ask forgiveness with Miss Erin’s entry.

Welcome to Brianna from The Paper Wait blog, her first visit to Poetry Friday with a review of Paul Janeczko’s wonderful anthology, “A Kick in the Head”.

Kevin Conder shares a  poet described as “the patron saint of rearranging your face.”  You find it here.  Does the Holocaust interest you?  Amanda at A Patchwork of Books  found a slim short prose book for middle grades  that explores this topic.

Write for a Reader shares a Maya Angelou poem.

Post Election Poetry here:

Cloudscome gives us an election day poem here. Carol shares a found poem.  Stenhouse Publishers sent this entry for the week, inspired by the presidential election. JAMA has some thoughts about Jefferon’s and the blue state of Virginia. 7-Imp is feeling a combo of Beatles, Francis Scott Key, and Whitman with their entry.

Mother Reader treats us to with a piece from Jay-Z.

Feeling “Novembery”?:

Little Willow is featuring November by Duncan Sheik at Bildungsromantoday.  Nothing like Yeats to give us that Novembery feeling and Tricia has one of his poems here. Elaine at Wild Rose Reader shares, an original not-yet-ready-for-prome-time autumn list poem.  Lori Ann Grover has  an original haiku today titled Autumn Offering. Frost reminds me of November as well and can be found at Jennifer’s blog.

Laura has a bit of ekphrastic poetry and William Carlos Williams  .  Some original tanka is found Linda’s Write Time.  At Blue Rose Girls,  a Poetry Friday post for Native American Heritage Month with two poems by Sherman Alexie.  Thanks to the blog, A Habit of Reading,  this is sooo appropriate for Washington and Oregon” weather,  The Mist and All.   Adeventures in Daily lLiving explores the rain with an Aileen Fisher poem.  Under the CoversAnother is in with an original fall poem, “Phoenix Feathers”.  November is a time of reflection and Sarah had selected Marie Howe.

With November, came a time change and Sherry has a delightful poem by Robert Louis Stevenson.

In honor of Veteran’s Day:

Janet offers us review of America at War, a selection of war poems for children. 

Barbara H. shares Walt Whitmans’ “Dirge for Two Veterans” this week in light of Veteran’s Day next week.

 I will add and revise the post  throughout the day (here’s to hoping the district will let me through).

Lat Night Arrivals:

Shubey is thankful to be home this weekend and shares this poem by Rusty Fischer.  John Mutford reviews George McWhirter’s Anachronicles.  Julie has her version of a post election victory song here. Cuileann  shares the Franz Wright poem, “Night Walk” .  Candice talks about a poem written by Rachel Field, author of Hitty, Her First hundred Years. America at War is reviewed here.  Nadine plays with an acrostic poem for autumn.

Apologies to those caught in the spam trap. Not sure why.

Jessica brought me a rough draft of this poem.  It was need of line breaks.  Tabbatha, who published earlier, offered to help her with line breaks.  Love that!  

fall

Leaves falling tall and icy trees
As the wind blows
On a cool fall day
Piles of orange and yellow
Leaves lie in the yard
As all the kids play
On a cool fall day

Thank you Sylvia at Poetry for Children for rounding up the poetry.  I round up the poems here next week. 

Happy Reading.  Get out and vote!

MsMac

–Jessica, 5th grade

I rely on the work of Naomi Shihab Nye. Thrilled that she wil be in Portland for the Washington and Oregon Library Media Confernce next month.

This is from the book, Come With Me: Poems for a Journey.

Secrets

One suitcase

only for secrets-

tucked in the pouch pocket,

pressed in the corners,

One light and liquid suitcase,

one glittering suitcase

filled with tiny

unspoken tales.

And I will carry it

to the other side of the ocean.

I will carry it

so no one knows

what I hold.

Because its cargo

is more precious than socks

or pajamas.

Because a secret is a ticket

and without it

the trip would be

too lonely.

I want that glittering suitcase filled with tiny unspokened tales. 

Last day to reserve a room at the Portland Sheraton at conference rates. Rate includes breakfast and gratuity.

Biblio File is hosting Poetry Friday.  Head over to see what other poems are offered.

Happy Reading.

MsMac

 I was flipping through my “Courage To Teach” notebook for inspiration today and found this great Wendell Berry poem, ” An Anniversary”.
It was used for a “Walk and Talk” exercise that first meeting with the CTT group, we met right after 9/11.  As you can see many lines, underlined and the opening: “What we have been becomes the country where we are…” after nine years since 9/11 it still grabs at my heart (as stated in my notes). 
For the last two weeks, I have obsessed over the political goings on of our country and I read this poem again, and find new meaning for today’s country.

Will we see  the light emerge from the darkness? What are the lessons we have learned from that awful day nine years ago? I found another poem by Wendell Berry here.

Must go to the library and check out his books  to re-read again.

Elaine at Wild Rose Reader is graciously hosting Poetry Friday today.

Happy Reading,

MsMac

 Funny how when you are not looking a poem taps you on the shoulder and leaves.  It happened to me this week during our teacher in-service.  Last spring, I tried so hard to participate in Elaine’s challenge from  her interview with Janet Wong. The poem, out of my reach and I stopped fussing with it although I had a class try it out.

Our school is working its way toward becoming a “writing workshop” school based on Ralph Fletcher’s work.  So as a staff we are experiencing writing for ourselves more  in staff meetings. (oh, twist my arm, please!)

The prompt this week?  A getting to know you poem: “I come from”.  Staff followed the nudgings to create “I Come From” poems. We will collect the poems, place them in a notebook for our school community to read.

And there it appeared. Well, not exactly.  This pantuom is growth of the poem seed planted earlier this week and revised while sitting through some might boring stuff at the spelling in-service yesterday.

I Come From

I come from a grandfather clock and abandoned violin wrapped in a wool blanket
Santa Ana winds bit my cheeks as autumn’s ring of fire glowed in the night sky.
I come from John and June who combined their names to creat mine
I come from foot fights with my brother during family road trips.

Santa Ana winds bit my cheeks as autumn’s ring of fire glowed in the night sky.
My nickname, “radar ears”, laughter, and “have you practiced the violin?” heard daily.
I come from foot fights with my brother during family road trips and
Gingersnaps, cauliflower-tomato soup-bleu cheese casserole and roast served on Sunday.

My nickname, “radar ears”, laughter, and “have you practiced the violin?” heard daily.
I come from dad’s teaching life, mom’s service to others, the weekend party house
Gingersnaps, cauliflower-tomato soup-bleu cheese casserole and roast served on Sunday.
I come from climbing trees to read, time with my grandmother and aunt, mentors both.

I come from dad’s teaching life, mom’s service to others, the weekend party house
Poetry, photos, family mysteries and the importance of education drummed into me
I come from climbing trees to read, time with my grandmother and aunt, mentors both.
Love, family, laughter, an imagined life-

Poetry, photos, family mysteries and the importance of education drummed into me
I come from a grandfather clock and abandoned violin wrapped in a wool blanket
Love, family, laughter, an imagined life
I come from John and June who combined their names to create mine

More poetry can be found at Charlotte’s Library  today. 

Happy Reading.

MsMac

Part of leading the poetry workshop last week.

Demonstration on using photos as poetry prompts.

 
Vashon Island, WA 2007

Vashon Island, WA 2007

green gray pottery
living organism
gurgles at low tide
draped in algae scarves
lingers in seaweed stew
elegant product of the ocean
nutritious food
from the
forest of the sea
barnacles treated to
remnants daily

For more on Poetry Friday visit Read. Imagine. Talk.