Poem 12: A Poem Regarding My Absence at a Book Challenge Hearing

This is a cross post with my school blog "Check It Out".

There was a book challenge hearing last night in my district. The book, Feed by MT Anderson, was the challenged book. I read it last year on the recommendation of a workshop presenter. Not my cup of tea but I can see how the book could resonate with teenagers, especially boys. The book had been at all but one middle school library as well as the high school libraries. The challenge came from a middle school parent. I did not go to the hearing. I am now sorry that I did not attend. I do not know that it would have changed the outcome. I was told that I would not be able to testify because I was elementary and the book was not in the elementary level. But I should have been there to support a colleague and I was not.

In the spirit of National Poetry Month(and thank you once again William Carlos Williams for your stunning idea of a poem of apology):

This is Just to Say

I did not attend
the book challenge meeting
which you probably
were wanting the support
from colleagues
and which the
audience was void.
It would have been great
to have
people present
who understand
the need
to have books
available
that engage
readers in higher level
thinking skills
despite
the language
which can be heard
via a varietyof media formats;
despite the notion
that we may come
to live in a dystopia
one day
instead of a
utopia

Forgive me
I promise
next time
(and hopefully there
will not be a next time)
you will look out into the
audience
and
I will be there.

NaPoWriMo: Poem 8

I think I really love the haiku form. As Reichhold in Writing and Enjoying Haiku states, "it is a snapshot of everyday life."

This as I arrived home last night:

Crystal raindrops hang
From Japanese maple branch
Frogs volley “ribbets”
Back, forth nighttime serenade
Dogs join the chorus

NaPoWriMo: A Pantoum

After reading Joyce Sidman's book Butterfly Eyes and Other Secrets of the Meadow last year, I explored the pantoum form. I love it. The late spring provides much to write about.

Slow spring awakening
Daffodils glance sideways
While snowflakes fall
However, vanish soon

Daffodils glance sideways
Mourning doves call
However, vanish soon
As cold rain plop plops

Mourning doves call
Frogs hoppity hip in mud puddles
As cold rain plop plops
Mason bees sleep in the hive

Frogs hoppity hip in mud puddles
A sliver of sun plays peek-a boo
Mason bees sleep in the hive
Daphne perfumes the air

A sliver of sun plays peek-a boo
While snowflakes fall
Daphne perfumes the air
Slow spring awakening

Happy Birthday, Robert Burns

Frontpiece, Volume Two
Etching of Ayr, Scotland
Birthplace of my grandfather

In honor of Robert Burns birthday, today, January 25, 1759:

The Book-Worms
1787

Through and through th' inspir'd leaves,
Ye maggots, make your windings;
But O respect his lordship's taste,
And spare his golden bindings.

Beneath the poem (or epigram as stated in the book):?
"(On visiting a nobleman in Edinburgh (it is said), Burns was shewn into the library, where stood a Shakespeare splendidly bound, but time-worn, and unaired by occasional use. He found the leaves sadly worm-eaten, and wrote the about epigram on the ample margin of its pages. Long after our poet's death, some one happened to oppent the book and found the lines in the unmistakeable handwriting of Burns.)"

This is from my grandfather's set of The Complete Works of Robert Burns. It was published in 1886. He must have bought the set in the states as the publisher was Gebbie and Publishers Company and Philadelphia is listed as the publishing city. I have volumes two through six. I don't know what happened to volume one. But I have yet to see any "book-worms".

For more Poetry Friday, visit: Mentor Texts, Read Alouds, and More.

NaPoWriMo, Day 24: Remembrance

Three years pass

A young boy and dogs

Life cut too short

In memory of Johnny Streeter, mauled by dogs when he was in second grade.

NaPoWriMo. Day 20

Moment of silence
Remember brief walks of life
Never to forget

Maroon, orange hearts
Held by citizens today
Ascend to heaven

Never to forget
Too short the journey of some
Moment of silence

In memory and honor of the community of Virginia Tech.

NaPoWriMo, Day Seven

Hooray for me. Seven whole days, seven poems. I appreciate Poetry Thursday and the variety of ideas. I combined today's word, kneel, with the prompt for next Thursday.

We kneel as if in
prayer
planting lettuces in the dark
Gibbous moon
watches, approves
placement of each tiny head.
Grandmother's idea
planting lettuces in the dark
kneeling as if in
prayer
but we're used to it.

Thanks to Megan and Catherine for their poetry lines. I can't wait to do more.

NaPoWriMo: Broken Thread

Writing Prompt for day five of NaPoWriMo: “broken thread”. I carry a verse from William Blake in my “poems I collect” journal.
From “For the Christians”:

“I give you the end of a golden string
Only wind it into a ball,
It will lead you in at Heaven’s Gate
Built in Jerusalem’s Wall.”

William Stafford, one of my favorite poets, often referred to the above lines. One of my favorites of his from Writing the Australian Crawl:
“Only the golden string knows where it is going, the role for the writer of reader is one of following not imposing.”

I draw inspiration from these two men as well as the prompt today.

Broken threads, dried up little cloth worms
Discovered while cleaning the garage, looking at the
remains of your library. A broken thread
tucked in yellowed yearbook pages. A message
jumps out, describing a scene I did not know:
You roller skating on the third floor of the dorm
You, telling ghost stories until the wee morning hours.

Graduated, ready to serve your country, married
instead. Broken thread of the
dusky blue dress, remnant of your bridal gown
slipped in the pages of your Catholic Bible. Six months later,
you and dad climb aboard the Greyhound bus.
Heading west, your Bible packed next to his from the
Presbyterian church.

Settling into the warmer clime, place of sunshine,
Orange groves, opportunity. You and dad worked
out the ups and downs of married life sans
family opinion. You tucked a broken thread from my
baptismal dress into my first Bible
Easter Sunday, 1953, orange blossoms
perfumed the air.

These broken threads and others
tucked away like some gigantic puzzle of
your life. I sort them
wondering how to weave it altogether
now that
you no longer walk this earth
leaving broken threads behind.

Today is also Poetry Thursday, to see what others are writing and who is participating in NaPoWriMo, visit here.