SALT CITY VERSE – Page 9 – Mostly Poetry for Children

Matilda and Roald Dahl

Welcome to Poetry Friday this week hosted by Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe. Thank you, Heidi for hosting.

I’ve been rereading Roald Dahl’s novel, Matilda, today and thinking about how several of his books have apparently been re-written to make the language more polite. I don’t think novels should be rewritten and I’m not the only one. Salmon Rushdie apparently agrees and wrote on twitter, “Roald Dahl is no angel but this is absurd censorship.” We should be able to look back and learn from the classics as a reflection of the time in which they were written. We can learn where we came from, in my opinion.

I LOVE Roald Dahl’s books and I think Matilda is brilliant and one of the funniest books I have ever read.

I can relate to this little girl because I discovered reading through librarians and a school teacher. Parents when I grew up were busy working and hands off in the reading department. They were happy to let teachers teach.

Matilda had worse problems. She had mean parents, but that’s what I love about Dahl, his use of exaggeration is a huge part of his humor. Matilda’s parents were the worst parents imaginable and blind to Matilda’s also exaggerated and brilliant intellectual life.

But Matilda survives her parents idiocy, the TV dinners her mother serves every night after bingo by the television, and her father’s self importance and constant lies. She survives by playing tricks on them, hilarious tricks that her parents never catch on to, like putting hair bleach in her father’s hair dressing and glue in his hat. They deserve every trick!

Matilda, for me, is a celebration of children, teachers and librarians and the magic of school and how it helps young people learn to think for themselves.

So it has discouraged me lately to see the discord and disrespect on TV at school board meetings. Are we simply to assume that all parents know more about education and books than teachers and librarians?

So here’s a limerick for Matilda, who survives her nasty parents and saved, actually adopted, by her teacher:

Matilda

Matilda’s mother and dad
were selfish, mean and just bad.
But Matilda was smart
had courage and heart
and ended up happy not sad. 

© Janice Scully

Two Poems about the Nose

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Tanita Here. Thank you, Tanita, for hosting.

Laura Shovan’s February Poetry Project is over and I almost managed to write a poem everyday except, I think, two. Still I am very proud I managed to write while and visit relatives most of February. So Yay! And it was wonderful reading so many different responses to daily prompts.

Today I will share another of the poems I started this month. I can’t recall the prompt, but I chose to celebrate the nose and how it aids the human race.

But I am hardly the only poet to celebrate the nose. Below are two stanzas from a poem by Jack Prelutsky, who is glad the nose is where it is on the face and not elsewhere:

BE GLAD YOUR NOSE IS ON YOUR FACE
by Jack Prelutsky

Be glad your nose is on your face, 
not pasted on some other place, 
for if it were where it is not, 
you might dislike your nose a lot. 

Imagine if your precious nose 
were sandwiched in between your toes, 
that clearly would not be a treat, 
for you'd be forced to smell your feet. 

The rest of the poem can be read HERE

My poem expresses gratitude for the nose differently:

ODE TO OLFACTION

Who'd care to propose
we dispense with the nose?

In quiet stealth,
the nose promotes health,

and its arrival
boosted survival

when early man found
smell as useful as sound,

and a benefaction
to detect putrefaction.

which is why we retreat
when we smell dodgy meat. 


© Janice Scully 2023

It’s interesting, I think, to consider all the things the different parts of our healthy bodies do for us and they all deserve a poem or two.

Of course we can’t sit around all day contemplating the human body, we’re too busy doing what we do! But we can still be grateful, now and again, for this collection of miracles.

Poems from Laura’s Poetry Project

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Tabatha Yeatts Here. Thank you for hosting. I know that Tabatha has been busy along with about forty other poets, including myself. We’re part of Laura Shovan’s February Poetry Project on Facebook. It’s been fun writing to a prompt every day.

I have been in San Antonio visiting my sister who I haven’t seen in at least two years. It’s been wonderful to see her. One of the highlights were homemade the tortillas we bought in a local grocery story. But there is more to do here than eat.

Today we drove down to the Alamo.

I read on a plaque:

“The limestone walls of the Alamo church are roughly 4 feet thick on average. Inside these sturdy walls the Texans positioned three cannons atop a 12-foot high elevated platform of earth and wood. . . . It was here that some of the final fighting of the Battle of the Alamo took place. According to an eyewitness, the last of the defenders continued to resist the Mexican Army from the “pitch dark” end of the Church.”

I have a lot of studying to do to get up to speed on the history. It’s complicated. But I gathered some background: that during the early 1800’s the settlers/immigrants who had come from all over the U.S and world to make a living in San Antonio, which at the time was part of Mexico, had serious disagreements with the Mexican government. This church was the settler’s staging ground in their fight against Mexican forces.

Heroes who fought in the Battle of the Alamo

And where there is war, there are heroes and tributes to them. This is my sister on the lower left catching a picture of them.

There is so much I’d like to learn about Texas, and I hope to learn more. This part of the world is so different from where I live in Syracuse, NY, where it snowed this week. The temperature has been in the 80’s here this week.

To change gears, I leave you with two poems I wrote this week. I hope you like them. The first is about an old rundown house.

A NEGLECTED HOUSE 

Under the porch
live a family 
of skunks.
I see them out 
around dusk.

Grey squirrels 
Have left
their old home
In the trees,
for a chimney 
full of old eaves.

The house is in shambles,
the landscape’s gone wild
but birds are at home
in those brambles,

It’s true 
it’s deserted
in sad disrepair,
but I wouldn’t say
nobody lives there. 

©Janice Scully 2023

The poem below is about the change of seasons, always my favorite time.

I’M MOST HAPPY

in the Cusp 
between seasons— 

The cool Spring rain 
before the Summer heat,

when Summer dons 
a cardigan for Fall.

and Fall shivers
into icy Winter.

then winter dissolves into 
flowery spring. 

It’s these cusps
I like the most, by far
when the world 
feels most
like a tuned guitar. 

© Janice Scully 2023

Have a great weekend. Thank you, Tabatha, for hosting Poetry Friday.

Fall/ early Winter on a beach in Portugal

“Nudge” and Peer Pressure

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Carol at Beyond Literacy. Make sure you stop buy and see what poetry she is sharing today. Thank you, Carol for hosting.

Would you like to know more about Poetry Friday? Look HERE.

Laura Shovan’s February Facebook Poetry Project is in full swing and the group, including me, are spending a lot of time writing new poems! The emersion has been lots of fun.

I picked up this book this week, by Richard H. Thaler, an economist, and Cass R. Sunstein, a social scientist. I’m sure many readers here have heard of NUDGE. I’ve been reading the new, and final, edition.

Since women’s rights in Iran have been in the news lately, I’ll mention a study I read of in this book about women’s rights in Saudi Arabia, in a chapter entitled “Following the Herd.”

As many people know, in Saudia Arabia women in the past have been subject to a custom called “guardianship,” where women can work outside the home only if their husbands allow it. I had always assumed that most men in that country supported guardianship. But assumptions can be tested.

A researcher named Leonardo Bursztyn decided to actually study if young husbands in that country supported the guardianship custom.

THE STUDY:

The researchers interviewed a group of young husbands in Saudia Arabia and asked them whether or not it was right for women to participate in the labor force.

He learned that the overwhelming majority of young husbands answered, “yes.”

Then, Bursztyn divided the same group of husbands in half and revealed the results of his study to half of the men.

Four months later, the wives of the men who had received the information about the majority of other men’s beliefs, that it’s OK for women to work, were applying and interviewing for jobs. The men had changed their views after finding out the views of other men.

Here’s the bottom line they discovered about social norms:

” . . . if people wrongly think that most people are committed to a long standing social norm, a small nudge correcting that misperception can inaugurate large-scale change.” (NUDGE P. 82)

In this book, I also I learned that if you want to nudge people to do the right thing, for instance, to vote, or use a towel more than once, or even pay their taxes, it’s helpful to use peer pressure. People will often do things because they know others LIKE THEM are doing it. Here’s a short poem inspired by the possibility of getting more young people to vote.

PEER PRESSURE

If you want teens
to vote,

don’t tell them
about those
who fail to vote.

Don't complain about
all the non-voters. 

Instead,
remind teens
of all those

JUST LIKE THEM

who did vote. 

© Janice Scully 2023

Here’s some facts about youth voting.

I hope this all made sense. Have a great weekend!

A Welcome February Poems

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Laura Shovan on her blog Here. Thank you for hosting, Laura!

This month I’m participating in Laura’s 11th February Poetry Project on Facebook, for the first time. So glad there was a spot left. I was a little nervous anticipating the first prompt to appear on the screen, but it’s been fun. It will keep me writing everyday, reading others’ work, and I know I will discover new ideas and poems.

Below are two poems about February, the first, a lovely one by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts, born in 1860. I think it’s lovely.

THE BROOK IN FEBRUARY
by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

A snowy path for squirrel and fox,
It winds between the wintry firs.
Snow-muffled are its iron rocks,
And o'er its stillness nothing stirs.

But low, bend low a listening ear!
Beneath the mask of moveless white
A babbling whisper you shall hear—
Of birds and blossoms, leaves and light.

And, thinking that each month has something good to offer, I wrote this:

WELCOME FEBRUARY

January was Glorious,
though landscapes were Spartan,
I love New Year parties 
and honoring Martin.

But more good is coming.
I'm already thinking
about groundhogs,
lace hearts
and Abraham Lincoln.

© Janice Scully

Happy February! Happy Groundhogs Day!

Triolet: The British Baking Show

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Marcie’s blog, Here. Thank you for hosting. Make sure to stop by to check out what she has for us this week.

Each morning, after I hear what is going on in the world, I try not to dwell on the news, for obvious reasons, and just try to be a good citizen.

I’ve been reading novels lately. ( I just read FAMILY LIFE, a 2014 novel by Akhil Sharma which was fabulous, about a young boy in an immigrant family from India and their life in the U.S. It’s a sad story but a page turner, the writing poetic.) I linked the New York Times Review.

So what can I share this week, poetry wise?

Sometimes in the evening I watch the British Baking Show, hosted by Paul Hollywood, of course. I imagine being a contestant. I am sure I would be sent home by the judges the first day of the ten day competition.

I wrote a triolet last week and described the form. So this week, for fun, I honed my craft further with another one.

BRITISH BAKING DREAMS

Today I watched the Baking Show--
the judges mostly kind.
Who knew that salt makes yeast grow slow!
Today I watched the Baking Show.
What is it like to overproof the dough,
then stand and feel maligned?
I watched the British Baking Show,
the judges mostly kind.

© Janice Scully

Have a great weekend!

TRIOLET: Morning Walk

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Susan, on her blog Chicken Spaghetti. Thank you, Susan, for hosting!

What is Poetry Friday? Find out here. It’s a great way to get to know other poets and others who love poetry.

Yesterday I was walking and saw this very common winter sight:

A barren forsythia in winter.

A bare tree. But since it is January, I began to think about spring and how everything will change in a few months. It’s not too early to start to think ahead. After all, days are slowly getting longer and there is no going back.

So since yesterday I tried to capture this bare shrub in a poem, and chose a French form known as the triolet. Some examples can be found here, including examples by poets Laura Purdie Salas and Amy Ludwig Vanderwater. If you are not familiar with this eight line form, it’s described nicely here, at a Masterclass site.

Below are the characteristics of each line. The first two lines are repeated in the last two lines.

Writing a Triolet:

1. The first line (A)
2. The second line (B)
3. The third line rhymes with the first (a)
4. Repeat the first line (A)
5. The fifth line rhymes with the first (a)
6. The sixth line rhymes with the second line (b)
7. Repeat the first line (A)
8. Repeat the second line (B)

After a few tries, and several hours, after discarding “tree” and “bush” for for “shrub,” which seemed more interesting, I came up with this:

Morning Walk

By the road a flowering shrub,
branches cold and bare,
in wintertime, ignored and snubbed,
by the road a flowering shrub.
Like a member of a dormant club
that seems without a care,
by the road a flowering shrub
branches cold and bare. 

© Janice Scully (draft)

Here’s a picture of the direction we are headed. You get the idea. I don’t know what kind of flower this is. Does anyone know? I don’t believe it is forsythia.

Happy Winter to you all from cloudy Upstate New York!

Your Wondrous Liver

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Catherine Flynn Here. Make sure you stop by and find out what she has up her sleeve for us this week. Thank you for being the first host of the year!

What is Poetry Friday? Learn more HERE.

I’ve had a reset with the new year. I’ve have returned to a few manuscripts that have been dormant for a while, with new eyes. One is a manuscript of poetry about the non-fiction topic DIGESTION, of all things.

My plan was two years ago to write a poem about “Team Digestion” that is, all the organs involved in this important endeavor. I was thinking perhaps that kids about seven might like to know where their food goes and that I might have fun writing about it. Also, no matter where you live or who you are, what happens to your food is always the same.

It was fun.

Anyway, I wrote poems, in several different forms, some of them I really like, some not so much, along with non-fiction notes to go with each.

But with this new year, I decided a prose picture book story about digestion is more suited to the topic, not to mention, way more publishable. I’ve revised and written a manuscript that I am much more excited about, more fun to read, and it captures the teamwork involved in digestion.

You’ll have to take my word for it.

But I have poems that I can share. Below is an etheree about a very important part of the team. It’s the mastermind, the liver, that takes all the thoroughly digested nutrients from the busy small intestine, and puts them together to make all the proteins and other things the body needs to grow.

An etheree is a ten line poem that starts with one syllable and ends with ten syllables. Each line grows by one syllable.

LOOKS DON’T TELL MY WHOLE STORY

Red
silent
sentinel
never asleep
lord of the belly
lounging like a walrus
in the right upper corner
Some things do not look impressive,
yet do the unimaginable.
Such is the case with the wondrous liver. 

© Janice Scully 2023

I’ll close with short two liner about the Gall Bladder. Have a great Weekend!

WHAT IS A GALL BLADDER?

This organ is the pear shaped bin
your liver stores its bile in.

© Janice Scully 2023

Human liver with gallbladder, duodenum and pancreas isolated vector illustration

Rocks and Socks

Welcome to the last Poetry Friday of 2022, this week hosted by poet Patricia Franz Here. Thank you for hosting, Patricia! Make sure you check in and see what Patricia has for us this week!

Because of a car trip to our relatives, and idle time in a car, I have been knitting a pair of socks. Because it’s small, a sock project is easy to bring along. What does this have to do with poetry?

A year ago, I was thinking of possible writing projects and considered using pairs of words that rhymed. Socks and rocks were two of the words I thought of. What did they have in common? Was there a poem there?

Would these two rhyming words yield humor? I had no idea if anyone but me would see opportunity here. Anyway, about rocks and socks I came up with a poem. I revised my initial attempt and like it better. I hope we all find ideas to inspire us over this new year.

ROCKS and SOCKS

Two words rhyme, 
four letters the same.

Rocks--hard, 
scattered on beaches and trails,
spewed from volcanoes
in a hot molten blurs.
I wonder:
What is Earth made of?
What are fossils?

Socks-- soft.
Who invented them? 

Perhaps the first knitter
walked on rocks
stole four letters 
and made two socks. 

©Janice Scully 2022

Happy New Year! Until at least April, I wish you all a sturdy pair of socks. Thank you Patricia for hosting!

Carl Sandburg’s PHIZZOG

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by the lovely talented poet, Irene Latham HERE. Make sure you stop by to see what Irene has for us this week.

Wondering what Poetry Friday is? Get your questions answered HERE.

Because it’s the holidays and I recently traveled, I found myself looking at too many pictures of me and deleting many. I thought of being human and our personal relationship to the ever present and ever changing face we each carry around.

There I was, smiling in front of ancient buildings, at a Thanksgiving party with relatives, posing with my son in California. It’s surprised me how much I look like both my parents. It’s difficult to describe, but a variety of emotions welled up.

I discovered Carl Sandburg wrote a poem that resonated. It was in this book, and the poem was originally published in 1930:

PHIZZOG
by Carl Sandburg

This face you got,
This here phizzog you carry around,
You never picked it out for yourself, at all, at all--did
     you?
This here phizzog--somebody handed it to you--am I 
     right?
Somebody said, "Here's yours, now go see what you can 
     do with it."
"No goods exchanged after
     being taken away"--
This face you got.

This poem is sweet and funny. No goods exchanged, indeed!

Happy Holidays to everyone!! Hopefully the arctic weather doesn’t preclude my family from traveling four hours to see my husband’s sister for Christmas. We’ll all take our phizzogs with us for photos and celebrate Christmas and the end of 2022. We are lucky we have the freedom to do so. God bless the people of Ukraine.