Welcome to another Poetry Friday Poetry Peeps Adventure!
Poetry Peeps! You’re invited to our challenge for the month of July! Here’s the scoop: We’re indulging in ekphrastics – poetry based on pictures. We’ll be exchanging images from our personal stashes, but we’re also free to use photo from sites like Unsplash or the Library of Congress’ pictorial library to help us out. From there our poems will grow out of whatever form, topic, length, or theme. Are you game? Good! You have a month to craft your classified creation and share it on August 30th in a post and/or on social media with the tag #PoetryPals.
Poetry Pea podcast: “Hino Sōjō observed that senryū are poems that make people nod in agreement whereas haiku make people feel.” Don’t you love that? I hope you feel that nod happen for you today!
The last time we did this exercise, in 2012, I moaned about it a great deal, MOSTLY because I’d just finished an international move and still had book deadlines, but also, because haiku ads only SOUND easy, or clever people would put them in the paper and online all the time. Such a short form you’d think you could make effortlessly clever and fun, but the haiku/senryu syllabic rules are definitely working against you. Last time I tried haiku ads, were doing a “12 Poems in 12 Months” challenge that, little did we know, would end up being something we’ve done for years now, and we had a Google doc where we could all comment on each other’s work – and fuss about it. This time, we were all so busy we couldn’t even get online together for our meetup. So… everyone’s poetry today is a full on surprise. That’ll be fun!
From Process…
Since I was missing the meet-up energy I usually get in the hour we spend talking about the challenge, any form issues, and our plans, I went back to those older blog posts, where I could, and reread our clever work. I actually really liked several of them, and it reminded me of the breadth of what counts as classified ads and how we could make them a bit more mysterious (Laura’s Riddle-ku style) and less straightforward. I also brushed up on senryu – what it is, and what it focuses on – because, despite my best efforts, I don’t think I’ve written a real haiku ever in my life. Finally I perused other people’s efforts. Haiku Society of America’s senryu winners came with some really enlightening judges comments. The Atlantic’s contest was a lot of fun – some of them really made me chuckle. I feel like I’ve gotten a bit of a better feel for what the emotional range of senryu can be… even though that doesn’t mean I can definitely write it.
…To Poetry
One thing I read and observed is that the syllable form is much less strict with senryu – and I immediately decided that this time, I was going to have vari-syllabic verses. That… didn’t really happen. I tend to become very fixated on the structure of a thing, so I kept having to remind myself that “it doesn’t have to be 5-7-5. Of course, the minute I abandoned the rules, I didn’t actually like anything I wrote anymore. ☺ Typical. The second challenge was finding a leftover scrap of imagination as the next heat wave roared upon us. I began and discarded poems about breezes, wind, and cold air (there was quite a theme going on). Finally, I stepped away, determining that my best bet was to simply try writing one haiku a day, until I got more of a feel for what I was after.
I enjoy writing short poetry like this over a period of days sometimes because I can remember what I was thinking when I wrote it – and do that “nod in agreement” thing that senryu provokes in the best ways. For instance:
In search of the scoop
the straight dope from dawn’s chorus:
tweet me all the tea
This bird poetry comes courtesy of sleeping with all the windows and the slider open – and realizing just how early those little featherwits get up. I remind them that the dawn (gossip) chorus begins when there’s, you know, dawn? They disagree.
Unsought opinions
(Occasionally unhinged)
Averse ears only
Yes, these unsought opinions come in their original packaging, and they’re completely content-free!
Ah, we love an election year, don’t we? Bleh. Some of my acquaintances could really stand to keep their political texts/email forwards/comments to themselves…
Keen-eyed critic seeks
Unsentimental gazes
Hey – look me over.
I was writing a scene wherein a girl gets her first look at the engagement ring her mother’s boyfriend shows her, and I asked my writing group to gush-check me, because I am TERRIBLE at swoony scenes. I’m still the girl who asked her boyfriend, “So… are we doing this, or what?” Yes, that’s what he got for a proposal. Unsentimental gazes FTW!
Well post-bud bloom seeks
Sharp-honed shears, and speed
For circumspect snips.
Ohhh, I wanted to use secateurs – it’s such a delightful word! Sadly… far too many syllables!
July was a great month for a concise poetry form, as we’re all hip-deep in the requisite rounds of visitations and vacations that make up summertime. The brevity and the theme meant that many of us at least had a minute to try some, which makes it fun. Laura’s poem is here. Mary Lee’s poem is here. Tricia’s poem is here. Michelle K’s ads are here, Denise’s ad is here, and Jone’s ad inviting us a riparian life is here. More Peeps may haul out a haiku or two before the end of the weekend, so don’t forget to pop back to see the senryu/haiku ad round-up. Meanwhile, Marcie Flinchum Atkins (who has an interesting looking YA novel in verse upcoming!) is our Poetry Friday hostess today – thanks, Marcie! You’ll find the full Poetry Friday panoply @
Hello Friends! The Science of Friendship hits bookshelves near the end of August, but we’re already hearing good things from readers. My first and favorite mention remains Afoma Umesi from Reading Middle Grade who mentioned a favorite quote on her Instagram page. She chose one of my favorite Rylee scenes, and I was excited to hear she enjoyed it. Meanwhile, Kirkus is renown for its rigorous anonymous reviews, and I am deeply gratified to have received a nod from them. What I love, love, LOVED was how the reviewer talked about the growing Rylee did in this book. Our girl is hit with some tough stuff, but it, in turn, makes her turn and look at herself. (I mean, eventually – nobody gets into self-reflection right away.) According to the review, in THE SCIENCE OF FRIENDSHIP you can find “the gentle modeling of emotional-regulation skills such as self-compassion.” I need to sit and appreciate how smart that makes this book sound. I don’t read reviews unless my editor sends them to me, but this one – this one makes it feel pretty worthwhile. You can read the it here for yourself, and I can’t wait ’til you meet Rylee this summer. Meanwhile, Happy Weekend! Aaaah! It’s been exciting to watch this poem take shape. This is my first year, and as I watched the couplets collect at first I thought, “OH NO, I should have picked a MUCH earlier date to contribute!” There were intimidatingly beautiful phrases! (…the tender, heavy, harsh of home – *alliterative swoon*) And so many details as the poem took on a narrative shape. I felt like I was too late to do anything “good.” Well, that was silly. This day, this moment in the life of these young immigrants… this time is perfect. Cousin, thanks for giving me a strong springboard from which to jump into playing with you all. The mastery of the Muse to those poets providing our conclusion, including: April 24 Molly Hogan at Nix the Comfort Zone And now for our featured presentation… Cradled in stars, our planet sleeps, almost dawn, I walk with others, My feet are lightning; I bristle against rough brush— I hum my own little song My fingers linger on well-worn creases, But last night as we rested in the dusty field, Leaving all I’ve ever known But I don’t want to whisper! I squeeze Manu’s hand. Thirst is slaked, but I know we’ll need We enter a village the one from Mami’s letter, A slapping of sandals… I wake to the sound I love this statement from Audre Lorde’s poem of the same title – poetry is not a luxury, but a necessity to remind of us thoughts and feelings and ways of seeing. This ‘ways of seeing’ is going to be a recurring theme for me this year, as the Poetry Sisters celebrate our unique and varied visions and our ability to all look at one thing and come away with seven different ideas about it. Viva la difference! Poetry Peeps! You’re invited to our challenge for the month of January! Here’s the scoop: We’re writing ekphastic poetry on… piñatas. No, really. Those hollow-hearted paper beasts we love to beat might not be something you think are poem-worthy – usually – but you’ve NEVER seen piñatas like these. Featured on PBS’s fabulous Craft In America series, we’re celebrating the humble piñata as elevated by Robert Benavidez. Check out his work. Are you game? Good! Whichever of his creative creatures and absolutely out-there works of art that you choose, you have a month to craft your creation and share it on January 26 in a post and/or on social media with the tag #PoetryPals. May you offer art without apology as you celebrate YOUR way of seeing. It was my absolute delight to be able to do this interview with Laura Jackson, author, parent, and all around calm and understanding human being. I absolutely love to get a chance to talk to people about how they’ve managed their disabilities and advocated for their loved ones, and how Laura did it for her daughter’s was to write a book and start a newsletter and do her darnedest to demystify the situation and educate adults and kids alike. I have so much respect for the work and love she put in for her daughter. You should check out Discovering Dyscalculia. I’m so glad to be able to recommend it as a resource. Poetry Peeps! You’re invited to our challenge for the month of August! Here’s the scoop: We’re doing Exquisite Corpse poetry. These collaborative poems necessarily involve yourself and at least one other passing lines or stanzas along, so now’s the time to start choosing poetry compatriots. Are you in? Good! The Poetry Sisters are continuing with our 2023 theme of TRANSFORMATION somehow wedged or sneaked into this form – and we’re going to also sneak in a few of Linda Mitchell’s clunkers to give us more to play with. If you’re still game, you have a month to craft your creation and share it on August 25th in a post and/or on social media with the tag #PoetryPals. It’s eleventy billion degrees here as I’m writing this (though tomorrow is forecast to be a whole five degrees cooler) and I view the calendar with horror… After a mostly mild summer which has suddenly hit ridiculous temperatures, it’s almost August… Which means it’s all but over. What?! My tomatoes haven’t even bothered to ripen!! In our neck of the woods, by August 1st, many teachers report back to school. At my nephew’s school, August 13th… is the first day of classes. As the Bard says, “Summer’s lease hath all too short a date.” As always, my imagination takes me back to school this time of year (no matter how former, no teacher ever seems to lose the idea that September begins a new year) and I was thinking about the differences between my nephew at the beginning of his junior high experience, when he was a talkative, shorter, rounder person – and who he became by the end of it – a lanky, tall person who won’t use two words when a grunt and a side-eye would do. These thoughts fit well into our poetic theme of transformation — though for a while it felt like not much fit a monotetra. This is such a deceptively simple form, just four lines and eight syllables per line – but the final line repeating the same four syllables was… hard. With such a short syllable allotment for the stanzas, it feels as if each word should do more work than simply sitting there, so a repetition seemed pointless. I tried to make it work with homonyms – and I’m aware I wasn’t entirely successful (and at one point just gave myself an out to do what I wanted) but did I mention that it’s eleventy billion degrees out? I’m doing a patented L.P. Salas One & Done today, since normally we’re all a mite envious of her ability to just crank a poem out and call it good. We peeps are here for the PRACTICE of poetry, not the perfection of it, and I’ve officially practiced. I’m out. (Gotta admit, though, that I did like playing with the homonyms, and sometime when I’m in a better mood, this might be a form to revisit. For someone who usually doesn’t mind requirements of rhymes and rules and syllables … the final line thing felt unnecessary, and for me, didn’t add anything. Others may have had a MUCH better time, however, so don’t miss the Laura Salas special, or Sara’s poemsmith-ery, or Mary Lee’s wordswimming. Tricia’s poeming is here, and Liz’s poem is here. Michelle K’s parrot poem is here, and Heidi’s nototetra slays me, while Linda B’s is scary. Carol’s gorgeous flowers (and poem) are here. Kelly isn’t with us this month, but other Peeps may be checking in with their masterful monotetra-ing throughout the weekend, so stay tuned.) Don’t miss the Bookseed Studio Dragonfly Bonanza – thanks Jan, for hosting Poetry Friday today! when you walk into a classroom In every classroom, eyes compare Suddenly, last year’s playground joy Fast as the year is passing by, But then – the last class of the year! One thing the endless round of school years reminds us is that time. just. flies. The days get shorter and the years blur faster and the what you wanted to do won’t wait for the when you thought you would do it… No matter what happened yesterday, there is still a road forward into tomorrow. Now is the best present we’re ever going to get – so grab it with all your senses and make it count. Here’s to leaning open-heartedly into your one wild, precious life. Happy (Breathlessly Hot) Weekend. Poetry Peeps! You’re invited to our challenge for the month of July! Here’s the scoop: we’re writing monotetra poems. This four-line stanzas form is in tetrameter, with a total of 8 syllables per line, and can be a single quatrain, or several. Each stanza is mono-rhymed (each line has the same end rhyme), and the final line of each stanza repeats the same four syllables Writers’ Digest has an example. The Poetry Sisters are continuing with our 2023 theme of TRANSFORMATION somehow wedged or sneaked into this form. You have a month to craft your creation and share it on July 28th in a post and/or on social media with the tag #PoetryPals. Thought-provoking words from Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass: “We may not have wings or leaves, but we humans do have words. Language is our gift and our responsibility.” Those are the words before the sentence Mary Lee proposed for this month’s writing quote, which is, “If grief can be a doorway to love, then let us all weep for the world we are breaking apart so we can love it back to wholeness again.” …language is our gift and our responsibility. Though perhaps not in the way that Kimmerer intended, because my mind is far from the natural world, this phrase has really resonated this month. I’m always conscious of when I make a social expression of concern… – promising to keep friends in my thoughts or prayers, to find a way to help, if I can; to keep a daughter/son/husband in mind if I hear about a job/hear about an opening/tutor/book they might need or like. We promise each other so many tiny things in the name of care, a hundred small words that we genuinely mean in the moment they emerge. How many of them do we carry through? Because I AM Me, these are the types of things that revisit my thoughts late at night. I am always disappointed in myself when I fail to fulfill the social exchanges I have promised. I feel, frankly, like a liar. We all fail, though, to follow through sometimes – sometimes on smaller, and sometimes on a larger scale. What would happen if we let that sting of feeling bad about it …change things? What if it all… meant something? What if we could go backwards and fix all the times in the past, from bad faith treaties to outright grift and lies, that have made the social contract has fallen apart? What wouldn’t we all give for a time machine that we could flip, and get a do-over. I started out trying to use a villanelle for this poem, but a four-stanza pantoum – a form I normally struggle with – suggested itself, and, shockingly, worked out. The shorter lines conveyed a sense of my theme without drowning me in it, hinting at multiple meanings and not locking me into one way of looking at grief, change, or loss. I also took the opportunity to use one of Linda M’s clunker lines while revising. I swapped a clunker of my own with “for minute sips of time,” which worked amazingly, and is an absolutely BRILLIANT line, so thank you, Linda, I’ll take it! I like the way this reads, laid out differently, too: If grief can lead the way/ ‘cross the threshold of the world, Cross the threshold of the world/ where our words, no longer lies With our words no longer lies/ we, who never kept our word, We, who never kept our word/ if grief can lead the way I’m so glad I’m not teaching this poem, so I don’t have to force it to mean something that makes entirely coherent sense to anyone but me. ☺ Other poetic thoughts on quotations can be found at Cousin Mary Lee’s place, at Laura’s blog, at Tricia’s, and at Liz’s website. Michelle K’s lovely responsive poem is here. More Poetry Peeps will be checking in throughout the weekend, so don’t forget to pop back for the round up. And, Poetry Friday is ably hosted today by Irene Latham, who invites you to celebrate the moon in June and read more remarkable, thought-provoking, creative poetry. Happy Friday, and enjoy the supermoon and Independence Day. It’s so weird to end a month on a Sunday – and it always feels a little sad to end the daily practice of NPM poems. I’ve had fun playing with cinquain. I don’t feel like I’m any better at them, but I do love how the five-line poem can be both so concise and full, depending on syllable count. I found I preferred the Crapsey; ten syllables for an end line feels simply too long – and too hurried, everything all at the end. Today’s poem is a bit of a cheat; this isn’t news from the world, but from the microcosm of my garden. My alyssum sprouted and immediately burst jubilantly into teensy-tiny (I’m quite squatted down for this shot), scented flowers, so I figured that was the best news of the world I could get. Happy May, friends – fresh breezes, sunny days, more rain soon, and plenty of flowers. The best of the season to you. There’s still time to reserve your sport for this Sunday, April 16th, when I’ll be in (virtual) conversation with some fabulous authors at Books of Wonder. Hope you can be there too; check out the Crowdcast link, and grab some books, too. A breezy, sunny weekend, good books and avid readers! Looking forward to hanging out in the North Bay this Saturday night! And, then Sunday afternoon, I’ll be virtually jetting to New York to talk with even more great book people! I hope you can join me one place or the other – you can definitely still reserve your spot on Crowdcast with Books of Wonder, so if you can, do! If not, there will be recordings and photographs posted from both events, and I’ll tell you all about them later. Until then…{book news: rylee swanson earns a star!}
{npm24: progressive poem!}
April 25 Joanne Emery at Word Dancer
April 26 Karin Fisher-Golton at Still in Awe
April 27 Donna Smith at Mainly Write
April 28 Dave at Leap of Dave
April 29 Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge
April 30 Michelle Kogan at More Art for All
clinging to tender dreams of peace
sister moon watches from afar,
singing lunar lullabies of hope.
keeping close, my little brother.
hand in hand, we carry courage
escaping closer to the border
My heart is thunder.
Our pace draws us closer
to a new land of wonder.
poppies ahead brighten the browns.
Morning light won’t stay away—
hearts jump at every sound.
like ripples in a stream
Humming Mami’s lullaby
reminds me I have her letter
shielding an address, a name, a promise–
Sister Moon will find always us
surrounding us with beams of kindness
worries crept in about matters back home.
I huddled close to my brother. Tears revealed
the no-choice need to escape. I feel grown.
the tender, heavy, harsh of home.
On to maybes, on to dreams,
on to whispers we hope could be.
“¡Más cerca ahora!” Our feet pound the sand.
We race, we pant, we lean on each other
I open my canteen and drink gratefully
more than water to achieve our dreams.
Nights pass slowly, but days call for speed
through the highs and the lows, we live with extremes
We find the steeple; food, kindly people, and shelter.
We made it, Manu! Mami would be so proud!
I choke back a sob, then stand tall for the crowd.
of “¡GOL!” Manu’s playing! The fútbol rebounds.
{posting our january poetry plan}
Welcome to another Poetry Friday Poetry Peeps Adventure!
HAPPY 2024!
{DISCOVERING DYSCALCULIA interview}
{pf: pp go mano a mano with monotetras}
Welcome to another Poetry Friday Poetry Peeps adventure!
EIGHTH GRADE
in eight grade, you won’t assume
that you’re a bud about to bloom:
(Cramped petals push: Make room! Make room!)
Those newly tall, some longer hair
Such change! Arriving from nowhere!
Of who, what, where – you’re quite aware.
Is sneered at – who’s got time for toys?
The things you once loved now annoy.
You’re moody, coy, your moods decoy.
The sparkling social butterflies
Befriend the world. You’re so tongue-tied
You get a high from saying “hi.”
One final test, and then a cheer
Erupting, you launch into gear.
You leap like deer. You disappear.
{pf: poetry peeps write quote-ably}
Greetings! Welcome to another Poetry Peeps adventure on Poetry Friday!
Time Machine
For minute sips of time /recreate our past again.
Recreate our past again/ bedrock-solid as we stand.
Bedrock-solid, make a stand/ make this lever pivot worlds.
Make this lever pivot. Worlds,/ for minute sips of time.{npm23 – headline cinquain}
{books of wonder: book chat}
{story chat: angie thomas & books of wonder}
