Well, here I was today staring down line 26 by JoAnn Early Macken, trying to find a suitable quote or inspiration to continue on with. And my readers will be teachers and librarians!!! It’s a little intimidating. So, what will it be? JoAnn Early Macken left me with a song and I continued us on another imaginative fun journey, I hope.
I took a line from a poem in J. Patrick Lewis’ book that I liked, Please Bury Me In the Library.
THE PROGRESSIVE POEM OF 2022, SO FAR:
Where they were going, there were no maps.
Sorry! I don’t want any adventures, thank you. Not today.
Take the adventure, heed the call, now ere the irrevocable moment passes!
We have to go back. I forgot something.
But it’s spring, and the world is puddle-wonderful,
so we’ll whistle and dance and set off on our way.
Come with me, and you’ll be in a land of pure imagination.
Wherever you go, take your hopes, pack your dreams, and never forget –
it is on our journeys that discoveries are made.
And then it was time for singing.
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain, paint with all the colors of the wind, freewheeling through an endless diamond sky?
Suddenly, they stopped and realized they weren’t the only ones singing.
Listen, a chattering of monkeys! Let’s smell the dawn and taste the moonlight, we’ll watch it all spread out before us.
The moon is slicing through the sky. We whisper to the tree, tap on the trunk, imagine it feeling our sound.
Clouds of blue-winged swallows, rain from up the mountains,
Green growing all around, and the cool splash of the fountain.
If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden,
a bright, secret, quiet place, and rather sad;
and they stepped out into the middle of it.
Their minds’ libraries and lightning bugs led them on.
The darkwood sings, the elderhist blooms, the sky lightens; listen and you will find your way home.
The night sky would soon be painted, stars gleaming overhead, a beautiful wild curtain closing on the day.
Mud and dusk, nettles and sky – time to cycle home in the dark.
There are no wrong roads to anywhere
lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove.
Standing at the fence of the cottage, I hear the new note in the voices of the birds.
I pray to the birds because I believe they will carry the message of my heart upward.
I make up a song that goes on singing all by itself
Surfing rivers of wind way up high . . . calling zeep, zeep, zeep in the sky,
blinking back the wee wonder of footprints, mouse holes, and underground maps.
Sources:
1. The Imaginaries: Little Scraps of Larger Stories, by Emily Winfield Martin
2. The Hobbit, by J. R. R. Tolkien
3. The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame
4. Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech
5. inspired by "[in Just-]" by E. E. Cummings
6. "Pure Imagination" from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
7. Maybe by Kobi Yamada
8. Sarah, Plain, and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan
9. inspired by Disney songs "A Whole New World" from Aladdin and "Colors of the Wind" from Pocahontas
10. The Other Way to Listen by Byrd Baylor
11. adapted from Cinnamon by Neil Gaiman
12. adapted from The Magical Imperfect by Chris Baron
13. adapted from On the Same Day in March by Marilyn Singer
14. adapted from a line in Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
15. The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett
16. Prince Caspian by CS Lewis
17. The Last Cuentista by Donna Barba Higuera
18. Kate DiCamillo's The Beatryce Prophecy
19. The Keeper of Wild Words by Brooke Smith
20. Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv
21. The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster
22. "Dance Me to the End of Love" by Leonard Cohen
23. adapted from Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt
24. A quote from Terry Tempest Williams in Birdology by Sy Montgomery
25. adapted from "When I Was a Bird" by Katherine Mansfield
26. Warbler Wave by April Pulley Sayre with Jeff Sayre
27. a quote from the poem, "Reading in the Dark" from the book, "Please Bury Me In the library" by J. Patrick Lewis.
Welcome to Poetry Friday! This week we are hosted by Margaret HERE. She is always ready with a post that inspires readers, and special thanks to her for organizing the Progressive Poem that gets more intriguing every week.
This week I ask that you please scroll down and click on the title of my last week’s post, featuring WE BELONG, a fabulous new picture book by Laura Purdie Salas, Illustrated by Carlos Vélez Aguilera.
I was slow last week getting my on-line link in the line up, so I’m posting it again. My apologies! But this book that is relevant and I want to make sure it isn’t missed.
Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Matt Forrest Esenwine. Thank you for hosting and please stop his blog, Radio, Rhythm, and Rhyme to see what he has in store for us.
This week I am concerned, as I have been for a long time, for children in this country, every single one.
Recently state laws have been passed or proposed that will criminalize doctors and parents of one politically powerless group, transgender kids. Their crime as doctors or parents? Simply trying to help young people they care about, in privacy, cope with serious mental health issues concerning gender identity.
While these laws are considered and passed, the incidence of kids wanting to harm themselves is rising.
Ignorance fosters fear and we need less of it.
To grow up, kids need positive messages, like the one found in WE BELONG, a new picture book by Laura Purdie Salas, Illustrated by Carlos Vélez Aguilera. Whether you quiet, loud, tall, short, white or black, or from a distant place, you deserve respect in this world. You deserve safety.
The art is colorful and joyful.
Salas speaks in these pages of the right to exploring your most personal identity. All of us are on a journey to understand our own private feelings and to accept who we are without shame and certainly without government interference. It’s personal and a lifelong journey.
People don’t set out to pick from a list of identities and simply put it on. No, who we are is something we learn as we grow up, hopefully along with adults and others in a community who love us, teach us, want the best for us, and do not shame us. It’s true growing up in the city and the country.
This is a short excerpt by Laura Purdie Salas. It reads well aloud, as you might expect from such a talented poet.
There are boys. There are girls.
And even more choices.
Let's build a world where there's room for all voices.
Play with the toys that you think are fun.
Put on a tutu and hit a home run!
Be who you feel like.
CHOOSE WHO YOU ARE.
Let your own heart be the guiding North Star.
Welcome to Poetry Friday to all nature and poetry lovers, and Happy National Poetry Month!
First, if you are not familiar with Poetry Friday and want to know more, find out HERE. Also you’ll find Mister Linky at the end of the post, so please add your blog if you have one to share.
This week I am the host and I am thrilled to share my interview with David Elliott, author of At the Pond. His new picture book is due to be on bookshelves on April 12/2022.
At the Pond, by David Elliott, illustrated by Amy Schimler-Safford, is written for children who love the beauty and drama of animals and nature. These read aloud poems, filled with clever language and stunning images, will entertain and awe readers of any age. They awed me.
Two of Elliott’s previous titles that I read, In the Wild, and In the Sea, feature fun, stand alone, rhyming poems about wild life. But At the Pond, feels more like a story than a collection of individual poems about a particular animal. It does this by providing us a time frame: One day at the pond from morning to night. The poems are all untitled which makes it feel like a story. The first poem is set in early morning featuring a red-winged blackbird:
The red-winged blackbird spreads his tail
and sings his hello morning song;
he has sung it since the bright
and misty world began.
The bullfrog leaps!
and there among the reeds,
the water ripples like a fan
unfolding on the surface of the pond.
It springs to life! Another day has dawned.
Morning on the pond is a gentle time as reflected in the picture and poem. I love the subtle sounds and rhyming in the above poem: The rhyme of began/fan, and the “f” alliteration in fan/unfolding and the “d” alliteration in the last two lines: pond/day/ dawned. Also the shape of the poem evokes water ripples and the blackbird’s feathers.
And so, the story begins with a blackbird in the morning. What will happen? Well, a lot will happen because we are, after all, at a pond. We encounter a snapping turtle about to dine on a minnow. We meet a dragonfly, a water strider, a beaver and deer at the pond and others from in and around the pond. The language and tone of each poem match the subject. Schimler’s amazing artwork adds to the magic of what we discover in this book.
One of my favorite poems is about the Great Blue Heron. Notice Elliott’s word choice:
The pond’s nobility,
the great blue heron wades
in the shallows with ancestral dignity
both majestic and absurd.
The fish do not doubt it:
The heron is a striking bird.
Nobility, ancestral dignity, majestic, absurd, striking, are words that resonate with the idea of a heron. The author does this throughout, choosing just the right words to create an image and mood around a creature or element of pond life. The word choice in ON THE POND challenges the reader and listener. The poetry is clever, fun and imaginative.
The last poem is set at night and it creates the lovely arc of this pond-story, anticipating the morning to come.
Cattails whisper through the night
Until the morning’s welcome light
Finds the pond’s expectant shore
and the blackbird sings
once more.
I loved this ending! As a poet interested in craft involved in a poetry collection, I was impressed how David Elliott and Amy Schimler-Safford tell a story about wild life at the pond using individual poems embedded in the arc of a day.
Fortunately, I had the opportunity to ask David Elliott a few questions about On the Pond and his creative process.
INTERVIEW WITH David Elliott
JS:
When in your creative process did you know the book would be structured within a day at the pond, starting in morning and ending at night? Were the poems always untitled?
DAVID ELLIOT:
With the exception of On the Farm, each of the other books in the series covers a wide range and variety of habitats. With In the Wild, we travel to all seven continents. On the Wing includes poems about the Andean Condor and your friendly neighborhood cardinal. In the Past adds the element of geologic time to the mix. Yikes!
But the poems in At the Pond observe and celebrate a singular biome. Often, we can see the perimeter of a pond in a single glance. In other words, a pond is intimate. It’s also quieter than say, the ocean, or the jungle, or even the woods. I wanted the book to convey some of that intimacy and stillness, and so very early on I decided to structure the book around a single day, which, to my way of thinking at least, is also intimate and can be, if we’re lucky, quiet, too.
I have to say that I’m not sure I made that decision as logically as I’ve tried to explain it here. I work so much by intuition, but in retrospect, I think in part, at least, this is what was going on. By the way, it made me so happy to learn that you felt like the book was more of a story than some of the others. It’s what I was hoping for, the story of a single day at the pond. I wanted it to read like one long piece, which is why there are no titles for the individual poems.
JS:I admired how skillfully you found the right language for each poem, for instance, the elevated diction for the graceful Great Blue Heron. What does your research involve? Do you make word list to help spark poems?
DAVID ELLIOT:
In general, I dislike research. I’m impatient. I want to get to the poems right away. But, of course, you can’t write about a seahorse, or a fisher cat, or a Great Blue Heron, unless you know something about a seahorse, or a fisher cat, or a Great Blue Heron. I do begin by making a list, but not a word list. I start by jotting down all the possible animals I could choose from. (You can imagine how long that list was for In the Wild.) With At the Pond, I made sure I included those that were in the water, on the water, around the water and over the water.
Next, I read as much as I can about each creature, and watch as many films-both professional and backyard—as I can find on youtube. But the real work comes in trying to discover how I feel about the animal — what is the creature saying to me? — which is why my research involves spending a lot of time staring out the window. There is a great deal to be said for indolence in the creative process.
With the books in this series, it’s been especially important to be mindful of the illustrator. I do my best to choose animals which vary in form, color, and size, hoping to give the artist as much range and possibility as I can. I feel so grateful and so much admiration for the work each of the illustrators has contributed. Holly Meade (On the Farm, In the Wild, In the Sea), Becca Stadtlander (On the Wing), Matthew Trueman (In the Past), Rob Dunlavey (In the Woods) and now Amy Schimler-Safford (At the Pond) have each brought something that makes them shine. I’m amazed at the luminosity of Amy’s work. I can’t stop looking at it.
I’m not quite sure what to say about the language except that the language of the poem –and by language I don’t just mean vocabulary. I’m talking about syntax, word choice, rhythm, meter, even punctuation, all of it — anyway, the language of the poem must come from the poem and not the poet. Think of each poem as a well into which you are dipping your bucket. Pay attention. See what comes up.
JS: Did you set out to write about a particular setting, such as a pond, or did poems you had already written lead you to focus on a setting?
DAVID ELLIOTT:
Actually, it was the series editor, the fabulous Liz Bicknell, who suggested the setting for this one. At first, I wondered if there would be anything to say about something so humble as a little pond. Then I started reading and daydreaming and remembering and suddenly an entire new world opened before me.
JS: For aspiring children’s poets, any advice?
Well, my first piece of advice would be not to listen to my advice. But having said that, I would say that maybe the most important thing you can do is to develop your ear. Language is sound. It’s music. Try to hear the music. The rhythms. The way the vowels and consonants are harmonizing. Or not. Is the comma doing its job or do you need a full stop to create that beat of silence? Train your outer ear to hear.
But equally, or perhaps even more important than hearing is listening, listening to what the poem is trying to tell you, what it wants to say. I try never to think of myself as a poet. Rather, I feel much more aligned with those medieval monks who sat in their scriptoria copying classical texts. In my work, I am trying to listen to what is already there.
Finally, I would add that persistence is the name of the game. Until very recently I was a faculty mentor in Lesley University’s MFA in Creative Writing, A former student, who graduated at least ten years ago –long enough ago to have had three children –just wrote to tell me that her middle grade novel is under contract. She kept at it. She prevailed. There’s a lesson there for all of us. Hooray!
THE END
I would like to thank David Elliott for the interview and would like to recognize, as he did, the talent and artistry brought to At the Pond by illustrator Amy Schimler-Safford. Beyond the poetry, the art on every page adds something special to this lovely book.
Welcome to Poetry Friday hosted this week by poet and teacher Heidi Mordhorst HERE. Thank you for hosing, Heidi! Be sure to stop by and check out what poetry goodness she has for us this week.
This will be a short post about the sun which I’ve seen a lot of lately. Maybe because I’m usually in Syracuse, New York, the cloud capital of the world, I was particularly struck by the desert.
There is no better place than Nevada to experience the power of the sun. The lack of shade trees is unnerving. There is no relief in the desert, until sunset.
At the entrance to Death Valley National Park at the site of an old mining town, I encountered burros,
and Joshua trees,
and constant sun. So here I’ll try to describe it:
I hope everyone is well. Next week I host Poetry Friday and I will share my interview with poet David Elliott about his new and wonderful book, AT THE POND.
Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Ruth HERE. She is living now in Paraguay and is sharing some beautiful early morning photos she took while birdwatching and a lovely short poem. Thank you, Ruth.
This week my husband and I are on the road, today driving through Wyoming. Below is the prairie and a few buffalo. The buttes, mesas, rock formations are breathtaking, as I’m sure many who read this might know.
Sage brush extends everywhere on the Prairie. This is a pronghorn sheep and they eat sage brush, as do over one hundred other prairie animals.
I wanted to share something this week, though I’ve had little time. I wrote this poem today, inspired by the endless sage and the sheep. I found the photo on Google.
Welcome to Poetry Friday this week hosted by the talented and prolific Janet Wong and Sylvia Vardell HERE. Thank you for hosting!
Janet Clare Fagal, who is an avid fan of Poetry Friday, is sharing some poetry treasures with us this week. Enjoy!
Thank you to Janice Scully for inviting me blog again. I am glad to be back among my Poetry Friday friends. I look forward to every Friday!
Tissue alert, this is a sad post. Ukraine and those suffering there are on all our minds.
On February 13 my Facebook friend, teacher Leigh Anne Eck, asked for suggestions for poems dealing with war. Her sixth grade students were reading Grenade by Alan Graetz. I recommended a few poems, including one of my own, some songs and book titles I thought might work. We did not realize what was ahead. My heart is heavy as I ponder the assault on Ukraine and ask myself, will we ever learn?
So with a heavy heart and prayers for us all, I will share with you the following, about war.
First is my poem, Broken, written in response to a chapter of a novella by author Nancy Dafoe, Naimah and Ajmal on Newton’s Mountain. My poem previously appeared here. Leigh Anne told me she shared the poem with her students who were touched by the sadness they saw on the faces of brave Ukrainian fathers sending their children to safety, while they remained to fight.
Another poem about war is Sara Teasdale’s moving poem There Will Come Soft Rains.
(Published just after the start of the 1918 German Spring Offensive during World War I.)
(War Time)
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,
Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
You can read the rest here.
Next I’d like to mention this haunting book, Lois Lowry’s first verse novel, On the Horizon: World War ll Reflections.
For those interested in more about Lois Lowry, here is a great interview. I really enjoyed it especially after I learned she was a close friend of Lee Bennett Hopkins.
The following song about war has always moved me. It is John McCutcheon’s, Christmas in the Trenches. I heard him perform it over 30 years ago. The lesson to the song? “Because on each end of the rifle, we’re the same.” Listen to it here. Read the lyrics here.
Another important book about war is, The Endless Steppe, by Esther Hautzig here. I read this book to my 5th grade students many times over the years. It is a book of history and courage. It was almost like a dream come true when I attended our local Reading Association dinner and sat with her. I had written her a letter and gotten a beautiful response. My signed copies are treasures.
Again I ask, will we never learn? I offer prayers, contributions to various caring organizations, and great hope that this war will be over soon. Hope. We all need it, along with sunflowers. Long live Ukraine. Long live the children, all of our children.
One last thing: This week’s blog from one of my favorite authors and bloggers, Avi, is HERE. It is about writing books for kids in the time of war.
Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by the lovely Kat Apel on her blog HERE. Stop by to see what she has for us this week! Thank you, Kat!
Maybe because it’s still cold out. And because there is so much trouble and worry in the world, I began to think about warmer, quieter, summer times, quiet moments when I had nothing to do as a child but wonder about the miracles in the world around me. I lived in a small town with trees, grass, and wild life just outside my door. How fortunate!
Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Tricia HERE. Thank you, Tricia, for hosting!
Dr. Paul Farmer, a pioneer and champion of global public health passed away suddenly at home this week. He was 62.
I learned about his amazing work and life through Tracy Kidder’s non-fiction book, MOUNTAINS BEYOND MOUNTAINS, which is brilliant. At a time when the medical community believed poor, sick patients with AIDS were not capable of taking complicated regimens of life saving medicine, he refused to accept that. He rejected the notion that hospitals were for the rich only.
Dr. Farmer proved that all people were capable of getting well if the needed social structures were in place to help them. For example, he established the clinics and hospitals in Haiti, to treat people with AIDS within their communities. Dr. Farmer was also involved in fighting Ebola, Tuberculosis and during the Covid 19 pandemic was instrumental in getting drug companies to share their technologies. I hope readers will learn more about him, as he had such an inspiring life.
Welcome to Poetry Friday! This week Laura Purdie Salas is hosting us HERE. Be sure to stop by on your Poetry Friday travels. Thank you, Laura!
Lately I’ve been thinking about the privilege I had of growing up in a busy family restaurant.
This is the awning by the front door.
But, I didn’t always think it a privilege at the time.
My parents were always working. There were no days off in the summer. My four siblings and I worked, too, eventually. As a teen, it seemed such an unfortunate plight. Like most kids, I had little idea how lucky I was that good food was ubiquitous and my parents made a good living.
But the cooks, waiters, and bartenders and customers arriving each day, in addition to my family, have given me much to think and now, more than I have in the past, to write about. I’ve been writing poems for kids inspired by all the hustle and bustle. The dishwasher room next to the kitchen, was an interesting, if rather grim place. I have no picture but maybe this poem describes it.
This is my last postcard this season, from the amazing artist and poet Michelle Kogan. See how she captures the movement of this tiger, the bent forward leg, its gaze forward.