janice.scully – Page 13 – SALT CITY VERSE

Guest post: Poet Janet Clare Fagal

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.

Broken
Janet Clare Fagal 

She sees his face,
a picture etched 
in memory.
Her child’s image.
Eyes dark, 
piercing.
Nose strong.
Mouth full, 
hints of smile.

She hears his voice.
The sounds: low wails, 
whimpers.
Her son
frightened by bombs,
watches
through rubble
and smoke.

Again and again the 
roar of war
sends them running.
New shelter.
Cramped hovel,
temporary.
The necessaries: food, water, hope,
too limited.

A hand,
rough, calloused
reaches out.
Safety, 
come.
A gesture,
the truck readies.
Room for one.

She pushes her son,
up.
A mother’s heart 
shatters.

©2018, all rights reserved

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.

You can find more about it here.

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 5^th 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.

Thank you, Sylvia and Janet, for hosting!

The Time to Wonder

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!

WONDERING

I have an hour,
to wonder in peace,
touch the grass,
watch the geese.  

Tomorrow
when my chores are done,
I’ll ponder the sky,
the clouds, 
the sun,

by the zinnias,
and hope to spy
a hummingbird
come whirling by.

© Janice Scully 2021

I wish everyone the time to wonder in peace and even a few moments to ponder the natural world, especially children.

May God bless the people of Ukraine.

Thank you, Kat, for hosting!

Dr. Paul Farmer

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.

DR. PAUL FARMER

Because he respected all people.
Because he understood illness has social roots.
Because he believed health is a human right.
Because he loved helping others.

We will remember him.
 

©Janice Scully 2022

With the news about Ukraine, I was reminded that Paul Farmer went to Russia to help treat patients with Tuberculosis.

Thank you, Tricia, for hosting.

A Restaurant Poem and a Postcard

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.

Here’s one:

RESTAURANT DISHWASHER

With a splashety-splash, a whoosh and a slosh
Our big metal monster sure knows how to wash!

Its giant door opens and the dishes slide in
and rumbling, moaning and whining begin.

It hides in the back room, in a hot steamy huff
ready to tackle the grossest of stuff— 

forks spoons and knives, greasy and slick,
nozzles and suds, it knows every trick! 

Takes courage to run it. Dishwashers are brave,
and to even walk past it, you better behave.

© Janice Scully 2022 (draft)

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.

     Listen for tiger's
              footsteps,
If you can't hear them
          listen harder . . . 

©Michelle Kogan 2022

          Tiger tiger
          by twilight
         are you there
        wishing the night?
         Heed their call
       prevent their plight . . . 

© Michelle Kogan 2022

Thank you Michelle for this tribute to tigers. And thank you Laura for hosting. Have a great weekend!

Postcards from Poetry Friday Friends

Welcome to Poetry Friday! This week our host is Linda Baie Here. Thank you, Linda, for hosting! Make sure you stop by and check out what Linda is sharing with us this week from Colorado.

I have been busy this week writing and submitting poems which has felt productive. I have to catch up on the Taylor Mali talk, which I couldn’t attend but will definitely listen and submit his contest. If you need info, check out Janet Fagel’s post, January 28, 2022, HERE.

I would like to share the terrific artwork and poetry I have received for our New Year postcard exchange organized by artist and poet Jone Rush MacCullough. The first is artwork and a haiku from Robyn Hood Black.

Here’s to

Poetry running wild

in the year of the Tiger

I so hope it is poetry that runs wild this year!

The following sparkling photo and poem is from Gail Aldous:

cloud layers

mountain layers

life layers

joy

Carol Varsolona sent the following art and poetry:

Here’s hoping for a “cloudberry sunset” for everyone.

The last postcard is from Jone Rush MacCullough. I have been told that the unusual texture was created by bird feet and captured by Jone’s lens. It does look alive.

The Poetry Friday community has given me such a boost this winter–that and my husband, sons and my other wonderful friends. So much positive energy and emotion. These postcards were a delightful extra.

Thank you, Linda, for hosting this week!

A Mentor Poem by Jack Prelutsky and a Postcard.

Happy Poetry Friday, this week hosted by teacher and writer, Elizabeth Norton HERE, at her blog “Unexpected Intersections.” Thank you for hosting this week, Elizabeth. I am looking forward to what she has to offer us this week.

I have some ideas for some new poems for kids that I hope will be light and humorous. So in search of further ideas about form and style, I turned to Sylvia Vardell’s wonderful anthology, A WORLD FULL OF POEMS, a book I’ve mentioned before.

I quickly discovered a poem by Jack Prelutsky, with repetition, rhyming and humor that meshed with my topic. Here is the first stanza:

I'M MUCH TOO TIRED TO PLAY TONIGHT
by Jack Prelutsky

I’m much too tired to play tonight,
I’m much too tired to talk,
I’m much too tired to pet the dog,
or take him for a walk,
I’m much too tired to bounce a ball,
I’m much too tired to sing,
I’m much to tired to try to think
about a single thing.

read the rest Here.

So, using this as a mentor poem, and given our zero degree temperatures lately in New York, I came up with this:

TOO COLD TO PLAY OUTSIDE TODAY
(Inspired by Jack Prelutsky's "I'm Much Too Tired to Play Tonight") 

Too cold to play outside today,
too cold to climb the slide,
too cold to swing on swings today,
too cold to chase and hide,

too cold to throw a rubber ball,
too cold to skip and run,
too cold to sleigh ride down the hill,
there’s hardly any sun!

But I'm tired of playing silly games,
I'm bored with the TV!
I chased the dog around the house,
now Sister’s mad at me.

So although it is a cold, cold day
not fit for even crows,
I'll put on my coat, my boots, my hat
and plunge into the snow. 

@ Janice Scully 2022

Maybe writing this was good luck, because as I write this it’s a warm 40 F and I hear dripping from the eaves. I think I’ll even play outside today.

Before I close, I have a beautiful postcard and haiku from Carol Labuzzetta to share from Arches National Park. I wish I could go there today! Thank you, Carol!

Eye of the tiger
Keenly seeing the future
Blinking honestly

© Carol Labuzzetta 2022

Good health to all! Thank you, Elizabeth Norton, for hosting!

Guest Blogger: Poet Janet Clare Fagal and Two Opportunities for Poets

It’s Poetry Friday hosted today by the amazingly creative and prolific Irene Latham Here. Thank you, Irene! This week, I turn my blog over to guest blogger, Janet Clare Fagal, with a poetry opportunity that I know will interest many here on Poetry Friday.

Here is Janet:

Thank you to my friend, Janice, for the opportunity to guest blog today. Janice and I have been lucky attendees at Highlights workshops with Georgia Heard and Rebecca Kai Dotlitch, and were roommates at NCTE’19 in Baltmore. It has been great getting to know her better!

I have two poetry opportunites to share with you.

FIRST, as past president and the current treasurer of the Central New York Branch of the National League of American Women here in snow country near Syracuse, NY, I would like to invite you to attend a Zoom presentation by poet, educator and creator of Metaphor Dice, my friend, Taylor Mali. It is Feb. 9 at 6:30 pm EST.

Here’s a Twitter post about one of Taylor Mali’s previous presentations. Maybe you’ve heard him before. He’s particularly well-known for his poem “What Teachers Make.”

So how do I sign up? Email me, Janet Fagal, at cnypenwomensignup@gmail. I will be in touch with further information.

We now have 500 spots in the Zoom session. I am planning to share a recording of the session with those who can’t make it.

Description of the presentation: Sometimes we need to be given permission to change the details of our memories so that they create better poems. Sometimes we need to be told that certain lines just don’t work in poems even if “that’s how it was.” Taylor Mali discusses memory, telling stories, and poetic license.

This all came about when our Branch of Pen Women was awarded a community grant from the CNY Arts Council to bring Taylor to our area to share insights and ideas on poetry. The grant also included some of our Pen Women poets working with area students. Taylor teaches a lesson to those students via Zoom (recorded).

SECOND: Taylor is sponsoring The Golden Die Poetry Contest + Anthology using the words from Metaphor Dice. There will be one adult winner who will receive $1000. In addition many poems will be selected to appear in the anthology. The student winner receives $500 and sets of Metaphor Dice. ALL who enter the contest will be considered for the contest!

Complete GUIDELINES to the Golden Die Poetry Contest are HERE

You don’t have to own Metaphor Dice to enter. The list of all the words for you to see, and hopefully use, is HERE .

Good luck should you enter the contest and I hope you will. As a level 1 judge for students (blind review) I am not eligible to enter but hope to see some of my wonderful Poetry Friday friends in the anthology.

Janet Clare Fagal

Eels and the Sargasso Sea and a Postcard.

Welcome to Poetry Friday, hosted today by Tabatha Here. Thank you so much for hosting, Tabatha, and I look forward to what you and everyone has to offer us this week. I know it will warm up the cold here in Upstate New York.

I have been reading, as it’s the best way for me to get new ideas, to go beyond my world. This week I read a fascinating book entitled EELS, by James Prosek.

Actually it’s the second time I read it because it’s about a fish that has an amazing life cycle which I appreciate as I grew up on a river known for eels.

When I was a child I went fishing in the Delaware River with my brother and pulled one of these out of the water. Needless to say I was not drawn to this creature. It was as scary to look at as it was harmless. And I discovered they tasted good deep fried.

But now this freshwater eel, scientific name, Anguilla Rostata, is endangered, mostly because of hydroelectric dams in rivers. Also, there is a tremendous appetite for eel in countries outside the U.S. It is considered delicious in Japan, and has become extremely expensive to eat. (For some reason, the taste of eel has never caught on in America.) There are efforts to grow eels artificially, though it’s slow going.

Eel are catadromous fish, which means they are born in salt water yet grow to adulthood in freshwater. So that requires that the tiniest eels, ride the sea currents to coastlines where they swim up freshwater rivers. Thus: the following poem.

THE AMERICAN EEL

In the middle of Atlantic Ocean,
in the Sargasso Sea,
thousands and thousands
of baby eel are hatched 
in salt water.

tiny and see-through as glass, 
they float and swim the ocean currents,
heading to the North American coastline,
to find freshwater.
 
They find a river and follow it
into the continent,
living on clams,
fish and frogs

for five to thirty years
more or less they grow.
 
until one day
as if something calls to them,
they head back down that river.

No one knows exactly why,
but eels always return 
to their birthplace,
the Sargosso Sea.

The females lay eggs.
The males fertilize them.

Soon, thousands of new baby eel 
wiggle along the currents
back to the coastline, 
to find a river.

Where they will grow,
and return again someday
to the waters
where they were born.  


© Janice Scully 2022

Just for their remarkable determination, Eel deserve our respect and protection in spite of their slithery, slimy appearance.

After reading about eels, readers, you deserve something more beautiful, so I will end with this collage postcard from Margaret Simon that arrived in the mail.

“Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door.” E. Dickenson.

And this poem:

A new year

new ideas

growing buds

to find a garden

already blooming.

by Margaret Simon

May you all add to whatever is already blooming in your artistic gardens. Thank you, Tabatha for hosting this week’s Poetry Friday.

Two Nature Poems and a Postcard

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by the brilliant and kind Mary Lee Hahn Here. Thank you for hosting!

First things first: a lovely postcard I received from Linda Baie:

I recognize the Colorado sky and mountains

This is good advice, to slow down and enjoy the journey. I tell my sons that, and they are too busy to hear which is ironic. I’m just learning it.

I will also share two poems that were published in December on the Dirigible Balloon website.

MINNOW TAG 

By a boulder, in silvery slivers
swam some minnows, in the river.

I’d see if I could—give it a crack—
grab a few and toss them back.

I grabbed and I grabbed,
but they fled in a flicker,

like shooting stars
They swam even quicker.

©Janice Scully 2021

SOME SPIDERS


Not every spider spins a web
of silky sticky glue
to trap an unsuspecting fly
and gnats that wander through.

I’ve heard about some spiders, 
with fangs for hunting prey.
They don’t need a web at all—
just grab and chomp away! 

If I became an arthropod 
I’d think I’d hunt with silk.
I’d take a nap, pluck my prey,
and eat my snack with milk. 


© Janice Scully 2021

Take care. I hope everyone is healthy.

Poetry Gifts

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by the talented Carol Varsalona at Beyond Literacy Here. Stop by, she always has wonderful poetry to share.

And so do I today. Thank you Jone Rush MacCullough for organizing the postcard swap, to celebrate the New Year with poems. Here are two lovely gifts I received this week. This postcard was sent by Mary Lee:

On the back was this haiku:

each flame provides light
we illuminate this world
us all--together

Mary Lee Hahn

Maybe Mary Lee is referring to Poetry Friday bloggers. She could be. I’m so grateful to feel welcome and part of this group.

And from Linda Mitchell came a Christmas ornament inspired by one of Sara Teasdale’s poems:

There will Be Stars

There will be stars over the place forever;
Though the house we loved and the street
we loved are lost,
Every time the earth circles her orbit
On the night the autumn equinox is crossed,
Two stars we knew, poised on the peak of mid-night
Will reach their zenith; stillness will be deep;
There will be stars over the place forever,
There will be stars forever, while we sleep.

by Sara Teasdale
Dark of the Moon (1926)

On the sky colored star-shaped ornament that Linda made is a haiku inspired by “There will be stars.”

stillness will be deep
stars forever while we sleep
circles on the night

Linda Mitchell

Linda also added another poem:

Between joy and sorrow,
all I need to do is look up
to know the stars are above you too.
Remember to look up.
Happy New Year!
2022

Linda Mitchell

I was so thrilled to get these in my mailbox and so grateful.

No matter what happens this year, there will be stars.

Stay well, Everyone. Thank you, Carol, for hosting Poetry Friday!