Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by the wonderful and talented Heidi Mordhorst HERE. I look forward to seeing what she will be sharing with us. This week felt like a good week to keep busy doing things that bring you joy.. I am cherishing my principals in the light of the Smithsonian news and so much else, and try my best to be kind to others. It’s hard to fathom the kind of people who would remove Harriet Tubman’s prayer book from the Museum of African American History.
I sat on my porch earlier this week. It was about 90 degrees and I was looking for a poem. I found this and drew this picture:
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THE BRINK
My pen is heavy, full of ink, while on a shady porch I think. Ice in my coffee melts and clinks, and a poem peeks across the brink.
Janice Scully 2025
For some reason I was trying to write a quatrain with the end of each line rhyming. Something fun, trying to create images.
I mentioned I love the work of Wayne Thiebaud. In the book WAYNE THIEBAUD: Art Comes From Art, published by the the De Young and Legion of Honor fine arts museums in San Francisco. He painted with oil. I found this painting entitled “Coffee” from 1961:
So I painted a small watercolor copy which didn’t turn out well but tried again, remembering to wet my paper first, which I’d forgotten to do on my first try.
But I liked my second try:
I’ve feeling a bit on the brink, and finding even a small poem helps me feel more positive.
Thanks for this place of community. Have a great weekend! Thank you, Heidi!
Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Molly at Nix the Comfort Zone. Molly is a teacher, and last week she shared a charming interaction she had at a Staples store with a boy who was soon to enter kindergarten. He expressed in an adorable way the excitement and uncertainty about this new beginning. The end of Summer is an exiting time of year for many.
This week I decided to participate in the Sealey challenge. I wanted to make a commitment that I could actually keep, and I pulled this book off my shelf: 100 Poems To Break Your Heart by Edward Hirsch.
As we all know, poems have layers of meaning. Hirsh has chosen 100 poems, great poems old and new, and in two or three pages tells us the history of the poem and the author’s craft. I am reading at least one a day. Today I read this poem written in 1927 by Langston Hughes, about a time many Americans want to forget: the Jim Crow era.
history:
SONG FOR A DARK GIRL by Langston Hughes
Way Down South in Dixie (Break the heart of me) They hung my black young lover To a cross roads tree.
Way Down South in Dixie (Bruised body high in air) I asked the white Lord Jesus What was the use of prayer.
Way Down South in Dixie (Break the heart of me) Love is a naked shadow On a gnarled and naked tree.
This is a short poem, three quatrains. The language is direct but complex in terms of meaning. I’ll mention some of what I learned. First “Way Down South in Dixie” refers to a popular song from the segregated South. We all know this song. It was written to be song by someone in black face who, playing a slave, longs for a return to the South that is so dear to him. This is placed in contrast to the reality of lynching, in a place and time of cruelty that few black folks would long to return to. The song was propaganda..
Also in contrast are the phrases “black young lover”in the first stanza and “White lord Jesus,” in the second. What god, white or otherwise, worthy of worship would allow lynching to happen, and is this white god or the young black lover, more worthy of praise?
Anyone reading this poem will understand, if they didn’t quite before, why book banning and revision of history is taking place in America. Our true history, involving such crimes as slavery and lynching, and the hijacking of Christianity, are all true, facts to remember, as teachers and librarians understand.
I look forward to exploring more of the poems in this Hirsch’s book.
On a different note, more I can share this week. First, I have been trying out water color painting. It’s fun to try and I’ve found some books to get me started.
I love the painter Wayne Thiebaud, who painted cupcakes and gum ball machines among many other things. This spring I saw a Thiebaud exhibit at the Legion of Honor Museum in San Francisco. He wrote about being a thief, an artist stealing ideas from other artists. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I painted a donut as he might. In a book entitled, WATERCOLOR: Success in Four Steps, by Marina Bakasova, I found instructions on how to draw a donut.
It’s not hard to paint pastries or veggies, it just requires some patience. Faces and landscapes, well, that takes more study. Still it was fun sending this postcard to my sister.
I also happened upon and snapped a picture of a red tailed hawk this week, in a grassy area, enjoying a tasty catch.
I think I’ll try to draw him soon. Not sure about drawing feathers but will try. His tail was a deep and bright brick red. He was gorgeous and let me watch him for a while.
Red Tailed Hawk
Enjoy the rest of summer. Thank you Molly Hogan for hosting! Best wishes to all those returning to school classrooms and libraries soon..
I have been away for a while, my life has been busy with many good things. In May my husband, Bart, and I were in San Francisco visiting our new grandson, Tommy, who is now already seven months old! We stayed through June.
He’s a miracle to us. He can turn over and grab things and hold on with his strong little hands. He laughs and eats. We are home now in New York State and his other grandparents are visiting him and we wait for the daily videos that tell us what they are up to on the West Coast.
But it’s nice to be home back to Upstate New York warm weather, and my books and friends. I hope to be writing more regularly. Also, inspired by many on Poetry Friday, I have been trying to paint with water colors and have found some YouTube videos to help me. It’s really fun!
As many do, I love to listen to the cicadas hiding out in the trees on warm summer evenings. The sound surrounded me this Wednesday evening.
Like in the Song “The Hissing of Summer Lawns” by Joni Mitchell, cicadas hiss, don’t they? You can find her song, one of my favorites, on YouTube. For some reason I had difficulty embedding the video here. Sorry.
Anyway, it was an incredibly loud the sound! I happened to be searching for something to inspire a poem and surrounded as I was, this tanka came to mind.
SUMMER EVENING IN UPSTATE NEW YORK
Cicadas hissing. My yard a colosseum of trees. I could be in Rome; but no amphitheater, stars the only scheduled show.
The Hollywood Bowl, I suppose, could have come to mind as it is a huge space full of sound. But wherever I imagined myself, the cicadas, like many natural events, transported me.
I look forward to reading your poems this weekend. Thank you, Marcie, for hosting.
Welcome to Poetry Friday! This week we are hosted by poet Buffy Silverman, Here. Thank you Buffy! I always look forward to your posts.
I’ve been with my new grandson watching as he tries to roll over. At six months, he coos and sometimes sounds like a parrot! He’s always listening and watching.
Since the Ukranian fight of sovereignty has continued and they are fighting valiantly, I want to celebrate the Ukranian people with a children’s picture book author with Ukranian roots, Patricia Polacco. Now, I know that the teachers and librarians that follow Poetry Friday are familiar with her. But I was reminded of her this week .
On my daily walks in Pacifica, CA, I visit a little library on the walking path. One day, it contained four picture books signed by Patricia Polacco, which I thought were treasures. I took two. She has written more than 77 books, many inspired by her Ukranian grandmother. Here is Polacco’s author website. On this website is a fascinating u-tube video of one of her author visits where she talks about her family and storytelling. It was really delightful to watch.
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Today I’ll share her picture book Rechenkas’s Eggs. Polacco is an author and illustrator. I love her artwork.
Her signature from 2008
The main character is not a child, but an old Russian lady, Babushka,who paints eggs and every year wins first prize at the Easter Festival in Moskva.
One day after it snowed, she meets a heard of caribou, hungry because the grass they eat is covered with snow. Babushka believes it a miracle that they have found her. But while she if feeding them a flock of geese fly by. One goose falls from the sky, shot by a hunter! :
Fortunately, the goose isn’t dead. Babushka rehabilitates the injured goose back to health, though in the process the goose accidentally wrecks Babuska’s art table, her paints as well as the eggs that Babushka has carefully painted.
It’s a disaster!
But as the injured goose recover from her wound, she leaves in her basket beautiful painted eggs . Babushka kindness is repaid with daily beautiful eggs, enough for her to again win at the egg festival.
While Babushka is off to the festival, the goose, now healed, leaves and returns to its flock. And there is a surprise ending: the goose has left another painted egg that hatches. The little baby goose remains forever with Babushka.
So, in this book we find healing after violence. Babushka recovers from her losses and there is hope for the future.
I have found a number of old poetry books for kids in the Little Library. I found a poem to share in one entitled, POEMS CHILDREN WILL SIT STILL FOR: A SELECTION FOR THE PRIMARY GRADES, Citation Press, New York, 1969. The poem is by William Butler Yeats.
I find it is moving and relates to the rest of the post, maybe because of the gun threat, but the fear in this poem is unfounded. According to the book, the word KYLE-NA-NO is Irish and refers to an unknown place: a narrow inlet of the sea of old.
TO A SQUIRREL AT KYLE-NA-NO by William Butler Yeats
Come play with me. Why should you run Through the shaking tree As though I'd a gun to strike you dead? When all I would do Is to scratch your head And let you go.
The Pacifica ground squirrel, is noted for their lack of a bushy tail, and living in burrows in the ground.
I hope everyone has a great weekend and thanks, Buffy, for hosting Poetry Friday.
Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Ramona at Pleasures at the page Here. Thank you, Ramona, for hosting this week. Be sure to stop by and see what poetry magic she has for us this week.
It isn’t that often that I take a walk and see a complete mystery, something that I have never seen before, like I did yesterday. I’m still staying with my son and his family in Pacifica, CA and walking on the beach I saw thousands of small white objects littering the sand that were not there the day before:
I picked one up and it felt dry and weightless as a potato chip. It was probably salty too, given its location.
Here are two specimens:
What are they?
Closer to the water I found this. It was roughly the same shape but plump, not dried out like the above two.
Velella Valella, a genus of the class Hydrozoa
These little sea creatures are related to the Portuguese Man-of War. They are called “sea rafts” “by-the -wind-sailor”, “purple sail, ” or “little sail.” Their more scientific name is Velella Velella, the genus and species. The class is Hydrozoa. If you want to learn more, the link will take you to Wikipedia.
The bottom part of this creature, the sailboat part, is often blue, but the one I found was colorless, translucent. They have a small stiff sail at a right angle that catches the wind and moves them across the water like sailboats. According to wikipedia, “Under certain wind conditions that may be stranded by the thousand on beaches.”
Today was my lucky day to learn about sea rafts!
A SURPRISE ON MY BEACH WALK
So today without my knowin' I stumbled on a Hydrozoan!
A creature with a sailor's mind, a ready sail, but blowing blind!
With thousands stranded on the shore if the wind continues, many more.
Nature hides behind a door with countless mysteries in store,
and so today without my knowin', I stumbled on a hydrozoan.
One of the fun things I’ve discovered on my walks is a little library. It sits on a pole by the walking trail. I have donated some books and discovered books I would never have read before. You never know what you will find. Today I found Hop on Pop for my grandson.
I found the book I’m reading now, “Isaac’s Storm” by Erik Larson. I’ve read his “Devil in the White City” which I loved and this one about the deadliest hurricane in history, 1900, in Galveston TX, when the National Weather Service was in it’s infancy. I look forward to more of Larson’s suspenseful writing. I bought “Rough Sleepers” by Tracy Kidder about a doctor helping to house and treat the homeless in Boston over the last thirty or more years. I donated it to the little library and hope someone else likes it as much as I did.
Have a great week. Thank you, Ramona, for hosting!
Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Sarah Grace Tuttle Here. Thank you, Sarah, for hosting!
I am visiting my new grandson, Tommy, having left the beginning of summer in Central New York for the breezy, cool and foggy climate of Northern California. He is three months old and it’s a delight to see what he’s up to. He’s found his mouth with his hand, moving his limbs, watching us. He likes the boardbook, Chicken Soup With Rice, and I swear he’s listening and watching the pictures.
Pacifica, CA, is a great place to walk, though windy and foggy. I don’t mind. Today, I saw a paraglider over the ocean. (read about paragliding here on Wikipedia) I caught this on my phone. The paraglider must be moving thirty forty miles an hour. When they take to the wind, the paraglider can fly, it looks to me, twenty feet or more above the water.
Of course, you can hire someone to take you up in a paraglider, riding tandem. No experience necessary. No thanks! I prefer watching and imagining it, but it must be quite thrilling and one of those experiences like sky diving for those keeping bucket lists.
I bought some colored pencils and paper to draw the wildflowers on Mori Point two miles away from where we are staying. I drew from this photo.
With the help of Youtube videos about colored pencil drawing, I tried to capture the mix of green, blue and yellow with the ocean in the background. I thought the wild flowers would last a while, but they were gone in a week.
MORI POINT 5/1/25
Wildflowers bloom, painting the hill in short strokes-- a brief impression.
My husband attended a demonstration to protest the private use of public lands. It was chilly and windy but many showed up and cars beeped. Hopefully we’ll make it to others. The attempts of some to steal our history from us is weighing on me, and so much more. It’s so disturbing! Here’s a picture. The use of public land to build golf courses or hotels, or to drill, will not be taken lightly.
Enjoy the weekend, everyone, and thank you, Sarah, for hosting!
Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by poet and steadfast environmentalist, Heidi Mordhorst, Here. Thank you for hosting! She is adding a new line to the Progressive Poem. It’s been a thrill to see it develop again line by line.
I didn’t post last week, which I always regret. But I am preparing to leave for two months to visit my three month old grandson and I find packing overwhelming. As I travel this weekend I hope to tune into Poetry Friday and hopefully make up for last week.
Spring is really here in Central New York and so much is going on in the bigger world, like the death of Pope Francis. He was a reminder to all to welcome the stranger and to help the poor. I hope that the new Pontiff will honor human rights, including the rights of all immigrants, and to protect the environment, as those values seem to be receding like a puff of smoke. We need all the voices we can get.
Pope Francis would have understand my hunger to write about beauty today and I always find it in nature, just as do so many on Poetry Friday.
On my walk yesterday, something seemed different. What was it?
Oh! The leaves on the trees had suddenly unfurled! I seemed to have happened overnight! I believe it did!
Later on my walk, I noticed hyacinths, too. First came the daffodils, then forsythia, and now the hyacinths have bloomed..
Here is my attempt to draw a hyacinth flower as well as a haiku. I haven’t explored drawing in a while, but have bought a book and pencils and thought I’d try and see what happens on my upcoming travel to visit baby Tommy.
I sacrificed a hyacinth in my yard for this purpose. My drawing needs some work but it’s really fun to try.
Hyacinth
morning breeze scented, absent since last April clutch of curling blooms
Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by the generous and talented Irene Latham Here. Thank you, Irene, for hosting and Happy NPM to all!
Of all the things I did this week, two things stuck out and were closely related. First, I read Marcie Flinchum Atkins YA poetry novel ONE STEP FORWARD. The other thing I did was attend a Hands Off protest in downtown Syracuse, NY. I’ll share some photos of that later, but first, Marcie’s novel.
People in America have a history of protesting for their human rights.
ONE STEP FORWARD, through beautifully written with accessible poetry, introduces us immediately to a teen girl whose family is divided by the issue of women’s suffrage. And on page 1, she is sneaking off to witness a demonstration. The first poem ends with the following lines in the voice of main character Matilda. She is scared her parents will find out she’s at a suffragist protest in front of the White House.
I pull down my hat tuck my chin into my scarf.
No one can know I’m here.
The conflicts in the novel from the beginning is clear: Women vs society and Matilda vs her father.
Suffragists in the early 20th century picketed daily in front of President Wilson’s White House. We soon understand that they were dead serious about their rights. They got arrested, withstood dirty jails with inadequate food and hygiene, and were willing to even starve themselves for the cause.
Atkins takes us inside the danger facing police and hecklers, their bravery and persistence. Not only do women earn the vote, but the men in Matilda’s family, her father and brother, are changed by Matilda’s struggle. I highly recommend this book especially now as young people might be seeing people on the streets again, today, protesting for their human rights.
This book put in historical perspective the action I saw this weekend on TV and in the protest in downtown Syracuse. It’s what Americans have always done. Most Americans will fiercely protect their rights if, of course, they are made aware and not deceived about their rights being taken. Many signs at the protest promoted John Lewis’ “Good Trouble.”
Clever signs about Greedledee and GreedleDUMB.
Protestors of all ages
A crowd of 4,000 gathered. Get it together, America!
Welcome to Progressive Poem 2025. Hello everyone! We are part of a long tradition!
Irene Latham began the Progressive Poem and hosted it from 2012-2019. If you would like to see poems from those years the early archives are Here. Margaret Simon took over in 2020. Her archives Here.
The rules are simple: The poem passes from blog to blog Each poet-blogger adds a line. The poem is for children. Other than that, anything goes. Each blogger will copy the previous line exactly as written (unless permission from the previous poet is obtained) and add their line, offering commentary on their process if they wish.
Here is the 2025 poem so far. Jone McCullough has handed it off to me. It seems I had to rhyme with thrum as a rhyme scheme has been established.
Open an April window let sunlight paint the air stippling every dogwood dappling daffodils with flair Race to the garden where woodpeckers drum as hummingbirds thrum
in the blossoming Sweetgum.
Now I send it on to Tabatha for line #9. Have fun!
Welcome to Poetry Friday. This week the talented poet Matt Esenwine is hosting HERE. I can’t wait to read his new anthology, A Universe of Rainbows! Congratulations! The cover is gorgeous!
I am so impressed by the poetry projects that so many are doing this month! I love the Progressive Poem and am waiting for my turn. I am also soaking up the ideas I learn from Poetry Friday poets. Thank you all.
What a great poster! Yes! I want to live in a shared world. For me there is no alternative. If we want to live in a shared world, we have to speak up!
This week I wrote a Cherita.
What is a Cherita? It is a poetry form described HERE. A cherita has three stanzas and it tells a story.
CHANGE IN AMERICA
Good change comes slowly,
inspired by the will of the people. But keep watch!
If change is sudden and requires flashlights on Friday night, in dark buildings, suspect thieves.
