VALERIE WORTH POEMS ABOUT BIRDS

Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit Michelle at Today's Little Ditty for Roundup.

I am out adventuring today but wanted to leave you with some more Valerie Worth poems. What poet doesn't love birds?? For more Valerie, please see the left sidebar for other posts in this series, which I will continue through the summer.

heron

Only
Fools
Pursue
Their Prey.

Mine
Comes to
Me, while
I stand and
Reflect;

Quick silver
Visions
Swimming into
My glassy
Reverie,

Seized
By a mere
Nod of
My wise
Beak.

- Valerie Worth

The magic years of my childhood were spend in a ranch-style house in Folsom, LA, just across Lake Ponchartrain from New Orleans. Lots of herons in those boggy, coastal parts! I remember trips to the Audubon Zoo and lots of father-daughter dates to wonderful restaurants (that surely contributed to my foodie-love today!). Here's a picture of John James Audubon's Louisiana Heron (from BIRDS OF AMERICA).

crows

When the high
Snows lie worn
To rags along
The muddy furrows,

And the frozen
Sky frays, drooping
Gray and sodden
To the ground,

The sleek crows
Appear, flying
low across the
Threadbare meadow

To jeer at
Winter's ruin
With their jubilant
Thaw, thaw, thaw!

- Valerie Worth

One of my most favorite childhood books MRS. FRISBY AND THE RATS OF NIMH by Robert C. O'Brien includes Jeremy the crow. (This could explain why a current wip of mine includes a pet crow.)

robins

Look how
Last year's
leaves, faded
So gray
And brown,

Blunder
Along
like flimsy
Flightless
Birds,

Stumbling
Beak over
Tail
Before
The wind.

But no,
Wait:
Today
They right
Themselves,

And turn
To the
Stout slate
And ruddy
Rust

Of robins,
Running
On steady
Stems across
The ground.

- Valerie Worth

Robins compared to leaves! How wonderful! And here is a pic my sister took of a robin's nest in her yard.

pigeon

The pigeon shed
is hot, and smells
Of dust and corn;

Pigeon-voices
Bubble, wings scuffle
Above our heads;

We are allowed
To touch the throats
Of the young squabs:

The sink and shift
Like beanbags, heavy
With grain, and warm.

- Valerie Worth

All I can think of when I read this poem is Barbara O'Connor's wonderful book ON THE ROAD TO MR. MINEO'S, which features Sherman the one-legged pigeon. :)

sparrow

Nothing is less
Rare than
One dust-
Colored sparrow
In a driveway
Minding her own
Matters, pottering
Carelessly, finding
Seeds in the tire-
Flattened weeds:
But because
She can dare
To let us watch her
There, when all
The stately robins
Have fled
Scolding into
The air, she
is as good a bird
As anyone needs.

- Valerie Worth

I love the start of this poem... and isn't it a great reminder that even the commonplace things among us deserve recognition? Also, it reminds me of one of my favorite books of all time -- THE SPARROW by Mary Doria Russell. I have read this book several times and get something new out of it every time. LOVE!

Stay tuned...I will be back next week to share about my adventures!

SIX QUOTES FROM THE HIDDEN SUMMER by Gin Phillips

Congratulations to fellow Birmingham resident Gin Phillips on her new (and first) middle grade novel! After reading Gin's adult novels, I knew she would bring a certain magic to her work for the younger audience. This is a lovely story of friendship that utilizes a unique setting: an abandoned putt-putt golf course. :)

Be sure to check out THE HIDDEN SUMMER. Here are six of my favorite quotes to whet your appetite:

1

"Grandpops is as happy with the cookies as I am. 'Tastes like leaves falling,' he says."

2

"She's someone who would never have gotten on the Titanic before counting all the life rafts."

3

"She nods. Of course, when she's being sweet to me, there's always the part of me waiting for it. Waiting for her to get tired of playing Mom. Waiting for her to get tired of liking me. Waiting for the ad things to happen. But the minutes or the hours pass and that part of me gets lazy and forgets to be on guard. And then it hurts worse when everything goes bad."

4

"Her skin is very pale and smooth like a piece of drawing paper."

5

"I am running fast and easy like an animal on the National geographic Channel. My feet barely hit the ground as I sprint through the grass. Gazelles should stay out of my way."

6

"The blossoms are scattering off the crape myrtles every time the wind blows, falling like hot pink confetti."

SEE JANET'S SKY

It is my pleasure today to welcome back the lovely, enthusiastic champion for poetry Janet Fagal! Janet emailed me this wonderful picture from Southport, Maine... don't you love the cloud's reflection in the water? It fills me with happiness and energy, and I am so pleased to share it with all of you.

And that's not all! Janet also gave me permission to share her Maine poem, which she wrote in response to David Harrison's Word of the Month blog prompt "fog." (link takes you to the June W.O.M. prompt "harrumph")

Which reminds me... I need a good "fog" picture... anyone? Thank you, Janet for being a part of my "sky" year!

photo by Janet Fagal

Some Mornings in Maine

I hear the fog before I see it.
A slow sad note sounds, then echoes,
blanketing the trills of the morning,
pulling me like a siren song in for a look.

The mist changes the harbor.
Scenes from black and white photographs,
taken long ago, sit stark and crisp,
colors forgotten like an old lover.

Low wisps dance in curls above the current.
Boats at anchor sway like silken scarves.
Draped in their gauzy veil,
they wait for the kiss of the sun.

It is silent now, this harbor, this morning.
Glimmers of light announce the coming change.
I scramble to soak in the sight and the sound,
the world more clear today, dressed in feathery grey.

- Janet Fagal, all rights reserved

VALERIE WORTH POEMS ABOUT SUMMER THINGS

fresh Chilton County peaches!

july

The heat
Bloomed with
Damp, tacky
To the touch,

Like petunia
Stems, or the
Nap on a
Ripe peach.

- Valerie Worth

Okay, this poem: who knows what petunia stems feel like, and who puts that in a poem?! Awesome. I DO have lots of of experience with peaches. I am, in fact, a Georgia peach myself, having been born in Georgia. And it's one of my favorite fruits. I remember my grandfather who lived in north Florida would drive over to Georgia several times during peach season and bring home a truckload of u-pick peaches -- usually Alberta and O'Henry varieties. He then sold the peaches to the local grocery store...and we all feasted.

crickets

Crickets
Talk
In the tall
Grass
All
Late summer
Long.
When
Summer
Is gone,
The dry
Grass
Whispers
Alone.

- Valerie Worth

When I think of summer, two of the first things that come to mind are fireflies and crickets. There's something magical about cricket-song... how you can be alone and yet feel as if in the company of some great benevolent spirit. And they are great to fish with, too. :) (sorry, crickets!)

porches

On the front porch
Chairs sit still;

The table will receive
summer drinks;

They wait, arranged,
Strange and polite.

On the back porch
Garden tools spill;

An empty basket
Leans to one side;

The watering can
Rusts among friends.

- Valerie Worth

Sometimes Paul and I like to watch those house hunter shows -- I find them just stimulating enough to keep my attention yet there's nothing in them to raise my blood pressure. On one of the shows recently, a young woman was searching for her first house, and the one thing on her "no" list was a porch. She said it made a house look "country." I guess I'm a little bit country because I love a porch! Especially those old-style painted concrete ones with cool steps to sit on. Here's a pic of part of the mural in my dining room. Look: a porch!

lawnmower

The lawnmower
Grinds its teeth
Over the grass,
Spitting out a thick
Green spray;

its head is too full
Of iron and oil
to know
What it throws
Away;

The lawn's whole
Crop of chopped
Soft,
Delicious
Green hay.

- Valerie Worth

One of the empowering moments of my childhood was the first time my 17-months-older-than-me brother turned the lawnmower over to ME, little barefoot sis who wanted to experience the vibration of the handle. I didn't even care that he was the one who got the credit for mowing... I knew what I had done.

fireworks

First
A far thud,
Then the rocket
Climbs the air,
A dull red flare,
To hang, a moment,
invisible, before
Its shut lack shell cracks
And claps against the ears,
Breaks and billows into bloom,
Spilling down clear green sparks, gold spears,
Silent sliding silver waterfalls and stars.

- Valerie Worth

I'm not a fan of fireworks. While I can appreciate their visual beauty, I don't enjoy the noise. I'm pretty sure this is an "introverted" thing. I'm sure we will be hearing more fireworks in our neighborhood all this weekend. I'd rather just read this poem. :)

flies

Flies wear
Their bones
On the outside.

Some show dead
Gray, as bones
Should seem,

But others gleam
Dark blue, or bright
Metal-green,

Or a polished
Copper, mirroring
The sun:

If all bones
Shone so, I
Wouldn't mind

Going around
in my own
skeleton.

- Valerie Worth

"Flies wear/ Their bones/ On the outside." Brilliant! Put a positive spin on a pesky little devil, now there's a poetic trick we should all try. This poem makes me want to write a "Flyswatter" poem. I think I will. Happy summer, everyone! I leave you with a pic of my dear friend Pat showing off how she caught a fly with her fingers. :)

Be sure to visit Keri at Keri Recommends for her very first Poetry Friday Roundup! Also, if you are interested in more Valerie Worth, see the top left sidebar for links on previous posts in this series. Happy day!

PAINTER'S SKY & THE FUNDAMENTAL POINT OF SCIENCE

Destin, FL, March 2013

"The setting sun was starting to peek through the clouds, making the whole sky like luscious ink. 'Painter's sky,' his dad had always called it.  -  THE WATER CASTLE by Megan Frazer Blakemore

... and because it's a really good book, and I have more than one Scientist son, I have to share another quote from THE WATER CASTLE:

"Will shook his head. 'But don't you see? You're missing the fundamental point of science. You can't have any ideas before you start. That's bias. You have to see what you see and then make sense of it.'

'You have to have some idea, don't you? Or else how would you know where to look? Anyway, it seems to me that science shouldn't be saying 'No' and 'that's impossible.' I mean, science is about discovery, right? Just like Peary and everyone looking for the North Pole.'”

And on a completely different topic -- well, not completely -- see my "Better than Ice Cream" post today over at Smack Dab in the Middle! Thank you. xo

OUR CAT IS SOOOO LAZY...

...he lays down to eat!

Here's how it works:  Bobby lays beside the bowl.

Bobby paws food out of the bowl.

Bobby eats the food off the floor.

Lazy Bobby. He makes us smile. :)

Happy July, everyone!

VALERIE WORTH POEMS ABOUT HOUSEHOLD ITEMS

Hello, and happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit one of the sweetest souls on the internet, Amy, at The Poem Farm for Roundup!

Today I am continuing my celebration of Valerie Worth with poems about household items. Previous posts include her poems about zoo animals and childhood play. (Not sure what next week's theme will be, but I intend to keep going with these lovely poems for a while yet. So inspiring!) Here we go...


chairs

Chairs
Seem
To
Sit
Down
On
Themselves, almost as if
They were people,
Some fat, some thin;
Settled comfortably
On their own seats,
Some even stretch out their arms
To
Rest.

- Valerie Worth

Here is a pic of my favorite chair in the house. It once belonged to Paul's mother, Bobbie. I adored Bobbie and still miss her. A girl could not have asked for a better mother-in-law. She hand-picked this upholstery, and I love it for its color and pattern -- and in spite of the way our cats have abused it with their claws! Here is a close up of the fabric:

clock

This clock
Has stopped,
Some gear
Or spring
Gone wrong -
Too tight,
Or cracked,
Or choked
With dust;
A year
has psed
Since last
it said
Ting  ting
or  tick
or  tock.
Poor
Clock.

- Valerie Worth

They say due to cell phones and computers, clocks and watches aren't all that fashionable anymore. Who needs 'em? Oh, but I love them. Both clocks and watches. Here's a pic of one of my favorites on the house -- a favorite because it belonged to Paul's grandmother. (Same grandmother who taught me to quilt -- Ludelphia's namesake!) I think of her every time I walk through our foyer and check the time.


safety pin

Closed, it sleeps
On its side
Quietly,
The silver
Image
Of some
Small fish;

Opened, it snaps
Its tail out
Like a thin
Shrimp, and looks
At the sharp
Point with a
Surprised eye.

- Valerie Worth

What seamstress does not have a healthy supply of safety pins?? And how fabulous is that image of safety pins as fish?! Love!

broom

It starts
Out so well,
Its fresh
Gold straws
Cut square,
Flared wide,

But so often
Ends otherwise,
With weary
Wan bristles
All stubbed
To one side.

- Valerie Worth

Oh, to be a broom! Here's a pic of the one I keep perched by the front door to swat down dirt and webs and such. Weary and wan, indeed. :)

TWO BOOKS TITLED "GOLDEN BOY"

So there are two 2013 books I love with the title GOLDEN BOY. One is by Tara Sullivan -- and it releases today! (thanks to Excellent Editor Stacey Barney at Putnam, I read it as an ARC); the other is by Abigail Tarttelin. Both are FANTASTIC.

While Tara's book is set in central Africa (including a trek across the Serengeti and a new home in Mwanza), Abigail's book is set in small-town UK. Tara's started as a MG and has been "aged up" to YA while Abigail's is marketed for adults. Both are about kids who feel, and are, different.

In Tara's book, Habo is an albino boy who is being hunted by poachers who want his parts for good luck medicine. In Abigail's book, Max is a perfect, popular, blonde 16 year old who happens to be intersex (the latest term for what I learned as "hermaphrodite"). These significant differences create identity and emotional and physical safety issues for each boy. There are family issues, too. And what I loved about both these books is how REAL and IMMEDIATE they felt. Both made me cry. Both I will read again. Both bring to light important topics.

Both, in fact, GOLDEN. Read for yourself!

SEE LINDA'S SKY

photo contributed by Linda Baie

It's an airplane! It's a dolphin! It's Linda Baie's cloud pic, which she generously shared as part of my "sky" year.

For the record: I want to be just like Linda when I grow up. Is there a more generous, loving spirit on ye ol' internet?

And not only that: she also sent along a wonderful poem:

No Stamp Needed

Clouds are the sky mail

personally sent,

helping us create tales

of fanciful intent.

- Linda Baie. All rights reserved.

Thank you, Linda! If anyone else has sky/cloud pics to share, I would be delighted to include them here. Email me: irene at irenelatham dot com.

SMALL POEMS ABOUT CHILDHOOD PLAY BY VALERIE WORTH

Happy Poetry Friday! Carol at Carol's Corner is our friendly Roundup host. Go see!

Last week I featured zoo animal poems by Valerie Worth. Today I want to focus on some of those simple childhood pleasures. Enjoy!

marbles

Marbles picked up
heavy by the handful
And held, weighed,
Hard, glossy,
Glassy, cold,
Then poured clicking,
Water-smooth, back
To their bag, seem
Treasure: round jewels,
Slithering gold.

- Valerie Worth

I still love marbles, though I was never much good at playing them. Mostly I liked collecting them in an old flower vase. They caught the light and were so cool... sensory magic and great food for the imagination.

barefoot

After that tight
Choke of sock
And blunt
Weight of shoe,

The foot can feel
Clover's green
Skin
Growing,

And the fine
Invisible
Teeth
Of gentle grass,

And the cool
Breath
Of the earth
beneath.

- Valerie Worth

Really, is there any better thing than being a kid running barefoot? I have so many memories of wild days with my siblings through pasture and woods and wherever. And during any season. (Okay, it probably helps that we always lived in warm climates.) Shoes were not important. Freedom was.

jacks

The way
Jacks nest
Together in
The hand,

Or cupped
Between
Two palms,
Jingled up

And thrown,
Land in a
Loose starry
Cluster,

Seems luxury
Enough,
Without the
further bliss

Of their
Slender
iridescent
Luster.

- Valerie Worth

I have memories of playing jacks and hopscotch at school, all the way through 6th grade. I loved how it was a game you could just carry in your pocket, and during the day, when I was bored or daydream-y, I could reach in my pocket and finger the jacks.

doll

Her eyes beam,
Full of sweet
Blue glass,

Her dainty
Shallow mouth
Curves pink;

Even when her clothes
Are lost, her curls
Left in knots,

Her smile
Remains the same,
I think.

- Valerie Worth

I was definitely a "baby doll" kind of girl. No barbies for me. My sister and I spent a lot of time playing house. (I made her be the Dad, so I could always be the Mom. Oh, Bossy Big Sister, that's me!) Sometimes we pretended to run a daycare in which one day, no one every came back to pick up their babies! So we had to take care of them all. It was awesome. :)


book

Such a
Bountiful
Box of
Tricks:
Packed
With the
Five senses,
The seven
Seas, the
Earth's
Four winds
And corners,
All fitted
Exactly in.

- Valerie Worth

There has never been a time when I didn't love books. Box of tricks, indeed! And adventure and love and mystery... I'll leave you with a pic of wee me that would not have happened if my mother hadn't brought along my favorite book. (Apparently I was not all that fond of being photographed!)

THE STAMP COLLECTOR

I first became aware of the picture book THE STAMP COLLECTOR by Jennifer Lanthier, illustrations by Fracois Thisdale, at Fay B. Kaigler Children's Book Festival when it was named an Ezra Jack Keats Honor Book. I was moved by Jennifer's speech and knew I needed the book.

Well... the bookseller was SOLD OUT. And life went on, as it does, and I forgot about the book. Until I was roadtripping with two wonderful children's authors Jo Kittinger and Heather Montgomery. We were talking about how it was a title and speech that really stood out to us. When I got home I ordered it.

Before it arrived (it took a while -- not sure why), the book won another award: the Crystal Kite, an SCBWI member's choice award. Then, finally, it was here and I read it and I loved it and knew I wanted to blog about it.

See, my father is a stamp collector. When the story says,

"In his dreams, the stamp is a kite, a paper jewel from the crown of a wise old king.
It holds a secret message; it is a clue to buried treasure.
The stamp is the key to another world - one that is new and full of adventure.
And stories."

... that could be my father talking.

When I was a teenager, my father gave me writing assignments. One time, he handed me an envelope addressed to Charles Lindbergh. The envelope's stamp was from Ireland. Papa said, "write a story about the letter that was once inside this envelope." Off I went on a new adventure.

This book is about connection and yearning and freedom, how stories matter and make us better humans.

It's also, somehow, about my father.

Read it!

THERE WERE MANY SKIES.

"There were many skies. The sky was invaded by great white clouds, flat on the bottom but round and billowy on top. The sky was completely cloudless, of a blue quite shattering to the senses. The sky was a heavy, suffocating blanket of grey cloud, but without promise of rain. The sky was thinly overcast. The sky was dappled with small, white, fleecy clouds. The sky was streaked with high, thin clouds that looked like a cotton ball stretched a part. The sky was a featureless milky haze. The sky was a density of dark and blustery rain clouds that passed by without delivering rain. The sky was painted with a small number of flat clouds that looked like sandbars. The sky was a mere block to allow a visual effect on the horizon: sunlight flooding the ocean, the vertical edges of between light and shadow perfectly distinct. The sky was a distant black curtain of falling rain. The sky was many clouds at many levels, some thick and opaque, others looking like smoke. The sky was black and spitting on my smiling face. The sky was nothing but falling water, a ceaseless deluge that wrinkled and bloated my skin and froze me stiff." - Yann Martel, THE LIFE OF PI

MENAGERIE OF SMALL POEMS BY VALERIE WORTH

So I've been writing short poems and reading for inspiration Valerie Worth's ALL THE SMALL POEMS AND FOURTEEN MORE, with illustrations by Natalie Babbitt. For the next few Poetry Fridays, I thought I would share a few on a theme. Today's theme is ZOO ANIMALS! Be sure and visit our Louisiana poet-friend Margaret at Reflections on the Teche for Roundup.



giraffe

How lucky
To live
So high
Above
The body,
Breathing
At heaven's
Level,
Looking
Sun
in the eye;
While down
Below
The neck's
Precarious
Stair,
Back, belly,
And legs
Take care
Of themselves,
Hardly
Aware
Of the head's
Airy
Affairs.

- Valerie Worth

painting by Eric, 2nd grade

tiger

The tiger
Has swallowed
A black sun,

In his cold
Cage he
Carries it still:

Black flames
Flicker through
His fur,

Black rays roar
from the centers
Of his eyes.

- Valerie Worth

painting by Eric, 2nd grade

flamingo

The
Flamingo
Lingers
A
Long
Time
Over
One
Pink
Leg;
Later
He
Ponders
Upon
The
Other
For
A
While
Instead.

- Valerie Worth

photo by Irene, Birmingham Zoo

sea lions

The satin sea lions
Nudge each other
Toward the edge
Of the pool until
They fall like
Soft boulders
Into the water,
Sink down, slide
In swift circles,
Twist together
And apart, rise again
Snorting, climb
Up slapping
Their flippers on
The wet cement:
Someone said
That in all the zoo
Only the sea lions
Seem happy.

- Valerie Worth

(sorry, I don't have a sea lions painting or pic to share!)

HAPPINESS, UNHAPPINESS, SKY

“Not that I'm a happy man, nor even an unhappy man,” he'd told her. “But happiness, unhappiness, are too trivial to matter. In such a place you become your own imagining. You feel nothing, or everything. You melt out into the sky.” 

 - MIDDLE AGE by Joyce Carol Oates

CRISS CROSS SKY

I was sitting at an intersection about a mile and a half from our home in the suburbs of Birmingham when I saw this sky. I thought, man, that would be a great picture, if not for all the stupid power lines. 

And then I thought, reframe: it's a great picture because of the not-so-stupid power lines.

And then I started thinking about other criss-cross-y things:

criss cross applesauce
the lattice on top of an apple pie
braiding
basketweave
dreamcatcher
spiderweb
the veins on a leaf
palm lines

What does it make you think of?

FIVE FOR POETRY FRIDAY

Happy Poetry Friday! Don't forget to visit amazingly creative and inspiring Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference for Roundup.

1. For the first year ever, I am not on family vacation for the 48 Hour Book Challenge! My e-reader is loaded, and my nightstand is ready, starting with this one:

Sign up at Ms Yingling Reads.

2. Had a lovely time visiting Pat who pampered us, as ever. We visited the Wall, ate yummy vegetables and talked writing. Here's a pic of two of my favorite fellas on the Ranger:

3. Finished edits on DEAR WANDERING WILDEBEEST, my poetry collection for children to be released by Millbrook Press/Lerner in 2014. Special thanks to a very special poet-friend Jeannine who helped me spit and polish. Mwah!

4. Enjoyed corresponding with friends after putting out my email newsletter, in which I shared news about DON'T FEED THE BOY being selected to represent Alabama at the National Book Festival in Washington DC! I also got an invitation to Southern Festival of Books in October, so I'll be heading to Nashville as well. Thank you, friends, for reading! And if you're not on the list but want to be, sign up at my website.

5. Lots of exciting things going on next week, beginning with Alabama School Library Association's summer conference. I'm presenting a session on poetry and how to use The Poetry Friday Anthologies. Yippee!

ADVENTURER-TRAVELERS UNITE!

My father sent me this quote, from THE SHARKS OF LAKE NICARAGUA by Randy Wayne White:

"Adventure-travel is any activity used as a conduit to observe, share, enjoy, suffer, encounter, or experience that which is outside the boundaries of one’s own day-to-day life.  You don’t have to go to Thailand or Central America to be an adventurer-traveler, but you can.  And it’s probably better not to have a specific goal, but there are no requirements about that, either.  'Boundaries' is the operative word here; real, implied, or imagined, if your body or mind crosses a boundary, you are doing it."

                                                                         ~Randy Wayne White~

Are you an adventurer-traveler too?

ART AT ALDRIDGE GARDENS

Aldridge Gardens is one of my favorite spots in the Birmingham metro area any time of the year. Add art and it approaches the divine.

Here's some of the natural art:

Hydrangeas, how I love thee!

And here's one of the displays where I found treasure:

That's right: upcycled journals! The artist takes the covers and even some of the pages from these books, adds plain white paper and binds with spiral. I bought a few to give as gifts. :) Here's a close-up of one I considered for myself:

But I wasn't there to buy for myself! Eric and I found things for every person on our list. And it was fun and inspiring and pretty much a perfect Saturday.

"TAKE IT TO THE TREES" POETRY READING

On Saturday it was my joy and honor to join other local poets at Ruffner Mountain Nature Center for a nature-themed poetry reading. We met in a room walled with windows overlooking the spring-green woods. It actually reminded me of the church where Paul and I were married, which also has those giant windows... except on that day (in April) the spring-green was punctuated by dogwood-white and azalea-pink. Gorgeous, both.

So here's the poets:

me, Alicia, Joan, Tabitha, Suzanne, Bob, Jerri, Manny, Robert

On the way out of the center, I noticed a sign announcing a "Full Moon Nature Hike -  Tonight." Paul and I already had a hot date planned, but we did take time out to snap this photo, in honor of my "sky" year:

And now it's Memorial Day. So many folks to remember, so much to be grateful for. Thank you thank you thank you. Hope yours is a happy one!

T-SHIRT QUILT FOR OUR GRADUATE

This is my first-ever t-shirt quilt. I learned that they are harder to create than they look! Since I am the Queen of Shortcuts, I thought, nah, I don't need to use stabilizer... I'll just pin and go really slow. Well. That turned out to be far too time consuming and not nearly as accurate as I wanted. So a-ironing I went! And it took FOREVER. That really was the worst part of the whole project. But look how neat and precise it turned out?! If you look closely you can see that I actually constructed the quilt in blocks. I wanted them to be a little "crazy," so I didn't worry about the blocks being exactly the same size. Then I uses more t-shirt pieces to create a border.

Lots 'o memories preserved here... and maybe a gift more for the mom than the kid, but Daniel seemed pleased. He may be really ready to leave high school behind, but all these things represented here have made him who he is and will continue to impact his life. He did say something about how well-made it is, which amused me -- the interfacing actually gives it a heavier, more professional feel. Love when things work out like that. :)

And now my sister has delivered a box of t-shirts, and my father said his box of t-shirts is on the way. I think I may have started something... good thing I love to quilt!

HAPPILY EVER AFTER SKY

This past Saturday our niece Jenn married Tim in an outdoor wedding by a lake, with a reception in a nearby barn. It was all perfectly wonderful until Jenn mounted the horse that was to carry her to the reception (and provide a wonderful photo op). Something spooked the horse, and it reared, throwing Jenn to the ground! Talk about frightening... she's okay -- probably sore today, and it was enough to shake up everyone present. But now that it's over, and all is well... isn't it a GREAT story to tell the grandkids?! 

                                           Congratulations, Jenn & Tim!

SKY INTERRUPTED

"There are no signposts in the sky to show a man has passed that way before. There are no channels marked. The flier breaks each second into new uncharted seas."

- Anne Morrow Lindbergh

... and the flier leaves its mark, at least for a moment or two...

THE MAGIC OF MOTHER-DAUGHTER BOOK CLUBS

I often tell groups about how my very first writings were love poems for my mother -- and that LEAVING GEE'S BEND is also a love poem for my mother. Which is why it's an especially magical thing when I am asked to speak with Mother-Daughter Book Clubs, as I did last night.

Before I get to how amazing these moms and daughters are, let me say again that I believe the mother-daughter relationship is perhaps the most complex of all relationships. I say this only having experience the "daughter" end, but I have enough moms of daughters in my life to have heard the "mom" end as well. I am sure that mother-daughter themes will continue to pop up in my writing for the rest of my life. A mother is that important to a girl.

And I had a delightful time with my friend Mary Leigh, her youngest daughter and all the moms and 6th-grade daughters who read LEAVING GEE'S BEND.

Here's the moms, who make it all possible:

And here's the girls eating a snack (Coke and pound cake, in honor of Ludelphia) and being silly:

And here we are all posed with quilt and Ludelphia and book:

Aren't they gorgeous? And they asked such wonderful questions and made me feel so welcome and sent me home with a treasure or two. THANK YOU, everyone! Great to meet fellow book lovers and moms. Remember what I said about sending me poems and stories -- I am happy to read. xo

POEMS TO LEARN BY HEART

I've just spent some quality time with Caroline Kennedy's POEMS TO LEARN BY HEART, illustrated by Jon Muth.

I'm not a big memoriz-er of poems. In fact I can only think of one 4 line Shel Silverstein that I know by heart... and "The Secret Life" by Stephen Dunn, which I have read so many times in public that I mostly have it memorized (but wouldn't want to be without my paper copy, just in case). Why that poem? For many years writing was my secret life. I often open a poetry reading by sharing that poem and how I've journeyed from a closet poet to an out in the open one.

I guess one reason I'm reluctant to memorize is that memorizing brings to mind all the ways schooling can kill a love of poetry. Being forced to memorize a poem is (to me) one of those things. Now, if students are allowed to CHOOSE the poem they memorize, that's a whole other thing. But still a lot of pressure for the shy ones among us.

ANYHOW. I am always impressed when poets have their own poems memorized. Spoken word poets knock my knickers off. I love the show, the performance. How do they do it?!

Back to the book. There's a nice mix of old and new here, and I was thrilled to find poems by our very own Janet Wong!

The book is divided into sections like Here I Am (poems about self) and It Is the Duty of the Student (school poems).There's even a section called Extra Credit, with longer poems like "Paul Revere's Ride" and "Kubla Khan."

Here's one of my favorites:

Baby Ate a Microchip
by  Neal Levin

Baby ate a microchip,
then grabbed a bottle, took a sip.
He swallowed it and made a beep,
And now he's thinking pretty deep.

He's downloading his ABCs
And calculating 1-2-3s.
He's memorizing useless facts
While doing daddy's income tax.

He's processing, and now he thrives
On feeding his internal drives.
He's throwing fits, and now he fights
With ruthless bits and toothless bytes.

He must be feeling very smug.
But hold on, Baby caught a bug.
Attempting to reboot in haste,
He accidentally got erased!

---
TIP FOR THOSE WHO WANT TO MEMORIZE A POEM: record yourself reading the poem. Play the recording while you are driving or doing mundane household chores. In just a day or two, you'll have it down. Repetition is a powerful thing! (I learned this trick when I first began public speaking and worried I would freeze onstage. Thanks to this technique, I never did.)

Happy Poetry Friday, friends! Anastasia has Roundup at her poetry blog. Yay for May!!!

I JUST FELL IN LOVE AGAIN...WITH A YA BOOK

Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell

Borrowed from the library and now have to go out and buy my very own copy. LOVE when that happens. :)

I-CAN-FLY SKY

"I quit being afraid when my first venture failed and the sky didn't fall down."

- Allen Neuharth

WHY IS POETRY IMPORTANT? & OTHER ANSWERS

Last week I shared the questions that would be addressed at the Experience Poetry! Panel in Vicksburg, Mississippi. What a wonderful event! Thanks to all involved.

This week I'd like to do a little roundup of some answers, including my own, as well as what some of you left in comments and what my fellow panelists Julie Kane and Jack Bedell had to say.

And then, as requested, I want to address a couple of questions from the student letter I posted on Wednesday.

1. Why is poetry important? 

Our moderator, author Howard Bahr answered it this way: It just is. Similarly, Myra said the question was like asking, Why is breathing important? Mary Lee said, poetry makes the imagination visible.Violet mentioned how poetry addresses the need to capture something in words, maybe squeeze a little meaning out of an experience or sight or idea, make a craft object out of words.

My answer: Poetry turns us into song. It sings us awake. It’s important because it’s a way of living this one life we’ve been given. Poetry allows us to swim in mystery. It’s a celebration, a way to praise. It begs us to question everything and invites us to pay attention to every leaf and acorn and ridge on the cap of an acorn. It helps us understand ourselves better, our world better. It encourages compassion and empathy. It challenges us with its heartbeat, What else? What else? What else? And it's a very personal thing. I wish for everyone the joy I find in poetry, though I understand that many will find that joy elsewhere. And that's okay.

2. Where do poems come from? Do you have a plan or a theory about what a poem should do; where it should go?

I think the question means to be, What inspires poems? In which case, I say everything and anything.

As for the second part of the question, I sort of brace against that “should.” I don't know that every poem has a purpose or that it should have a purpose. For me, I enjoy poems best that surprise me. I want to be surprised. I want to read a poem and experience the unexpected inevitable -- That surprising image or analogy that when you see it on the page or hear it said, feels exactly true and right. AND I want to know What stays with you latest and deepest.

I also love what Tara said about poems bearing witness to history. And what Bridget said about how poetry comes from close observation filtered through the poet's soul.  And what Margaret said about how in a poem the deeply personal becomes universal. And Linda's thoughts on so many small & important moments, sometimes discoveries of facts, & sometimes of feelings, but always connected to self. At the event, Jack Bedell talked about how poetry should share our human-ness and perhaps even help us to become better humans.

3. What are some of the developments in contemporary American poetry?

I was interested to hear Julie and Jack's take on this, especially as they both teach at universities and experience a different corner of the Poetry Universe than I do. Turns out, they were nearly as befuddled as me. (Well, not quite. These are some savvy poets!)

My thoughts are this: There’s never been a better time to be a poet. There are more publishing options than ever before, and the internet has created a wonderfully supportive community. Poets have found each other. The downside of this is that it’s far more competitive.

4. Should poetry respond to the political/environmental challenges of our time, and if so, how?

Laura said, it can, IF the poet feels those issues at a visceral issue but can also engage his or her inner editor and transform them into true poetry.  I agree wholeheartedly, in that I am not much interested in reading a rant. Mary Lee said, Poetry should respond with compassion, originality, and imagination. (Again, that tip of the hat to imagination! Love it!)

My feeling is that poetry should respond to everything and anything, whatever the poet feels inclined to address. As to the second part of the question, my answer is simple: “in beauty.”

***************

And now, my answers for Kristina (and for Michelle, who challenged me to be as honest), who wrote me an adorable letter (that includes kittens!):

Do you have one (a kitten)?

I have two cats. Maggie, who loves high places, and Bobby, who is too fat to get himself to the high places, so he just stares and whines instead.

Do you like the zoo like I do?

I sure do love the zoo. I love seeing animals I'd never see otherwise. I love all the work zoos do to preserve species. My favorite time to go is first thing in the morning when all the critters are being fed.

What is I like to be an author and why is it important?

Being an author is awesome because I get to do the things I love best: play with words, tell stories, and connect with the world, including readers like you! It's important to me because it's the life I've chosen – and it's the life I keep choosing every single day. I don't know that it's all that important in the grand scheme of things, but it is one way to communicate. And communication could be the most important thing we do on this earth.

Do you like writing stories because I don't.

Most of the time I like it. Some days I'm positively giddy about it. Others days when I'm struggling, I wonder why I torture myself. Which is probably how mixed-up most of us feel about many of the things we choose to fill our lives with. :)  

Thanks, all, for the great discussion! Be sure and visit Liz Steinglass for Roundup!

WHY MY NEXT BOOK WILL BE ABOUT KITTENS

Thank you, Kristina, for one of my favorite letters EVER. :)