Penvy

Wish I had a pen
'cause this point once again
needs sharpening
Pencil

My toothbrush

Today was a great day with the kids. When they heard about my challenge to write a poem for every day of April and that I was going to hold myself accountable by telling them there was cheering. When I asked how many people thought I could do it, there was about 80% support. When I asked how many children will try to submit a poem to my poetry wall, about 90% raised their hands. Remember, these are kindergarten and first grade students! 


The rest of the day got away from me. If I hadn't made the announcement, I probably would have turned in without writing a poem. I don't want to let my students down, so I churned this one out. I know it needs work, but it will do for the challenge. Another thing I am learning through this challenge - I have been writing poetry for adults and I really need to start writing poetry for children. I will turn my efforts in this direction this month. 

My Toothbrush

My toothbrush is pink

It sits by the sink

Waiting for me all day

When we see each other

It says “O brother,

All I wanted to do was play.”

I feel pretty proud

And I tell it outloud

That I have no time for games

I pull out the paste

Squeeze it out on it’s face

While my toothbrush calls me names

Of Berets and Brussels Sprouts

Who would have thought that my poem for today would be about Brussels Sprouts? They certainly weren't on my radar when I got up this morning.


Last year during National Poetry Month I shared Flicker Flash by Joan Bransfield Graham with my classes. It is a great book of concrete poetry to share with young students. I was particularly enamored with a poem that has both brussels sprouts and chocolate cake in it. After all, I have always threatened my family with brussels sprouts. Turns out that one of my colleagues loves brussels sprouts and wasn't satisfied with merely extolling the virtues of the vegetable. She went home, cooked some and brought them to me as a testimony to their superiority. She sold me hook, line and sinker. 


Today she chased me around the building until she caught up with me after noon. She was holding a brown paper bag and had a big smile on her face. Little did I suspect the joy that was to be mine. More brussels sprouts! What could I do? The poems practically wrote themselves.


First the form I played with yesterday:


Small green heads
thick veins protruding
brussels sprouts




and then:




Mrs. Kendall's brussels sprouts
are lovely and delicious
Not only are they tasty
they are really quite nutritious
I cannot wait to skewer them
my fork waits by the bowl
sometimes I like to cut them
other times I eat them whole
she makes them so much better
than I ever could
If I could make them taste like that
You know I bet I would
Mine don't taste like hers
You know she has the touch
So my dear, dear Mrs. Kendall
I must thank you very much.

No Rhyme Like the Present

Today was a great day of poetry with my students. We worked on our rhyming skills. The competition in our 3 minute rhyming rounds was intense. We all enjoyed the rhyming bean bag game I came up with. 


To hold myself accountable, I told them that I planned to write a poem every day. Today I wrote two - one to share with them and one just for the blog. 


Students bent over their work
like fiddleheads' tight curls
when the bell rings
"pop" they spring
I watch as new growth unfurls. 




I played with a format I learned during Kat Apel's Month of Poetry in January. 


Bloodshot eyes
can't help but cry
Hay fever.

A Month of Berets

April is National Poetry Month. This year I plan to indulge myself in celebrating by wearing berets. Never having mastered the art of pulling off an artful beret, it took my breath away to see some well tilted toppers around town this year. Quite frankly, I have the tendency to look like a muffin head. When I questioned a parent who cut a particularly dashing figure in his beret about his secrets for wearing a beret so fetchingly, he replied “It all boils down to having a bad hair day.” He appended his statement by telling me not to overthink it.  If I have a whole month to get it right, perhaps I can pull it off.

Berets are not the ubiquitous headwarmers they were when I was younger. Something about a beret makes me think of The Beat Poets, Greenwich Village and basement poetry readings.

Years ago, I accompanied a poet friend of mine to her mentor’s reading in Manhattan. It was in a high-rise, full of glass and comfortable seating. Scarves dominated the fashion where berets once reigned. I remember feeling grown up and cultured, though I was neither of those things.

For years I have wanted to hold a salon gathering of poetry. Dim lights, men with beards, maybe a set of bongos or two.

This April I settle for a month of berets. The violet fluffy one I sport as I write this I knit for no other reason than to use up yarn bought merely for its’ beauty. I hope to find the royal blue beret I embroidered silk flowers on inspired by Victoria Magazine in the ‘90s. Maybe I’ll even finish the one I’m knitting now.

So pull your beret out of the mothballs and wear it will me in April. Let me know what you’re writing and join me in A Month of Berets..

A month full of berets

Soft and fluffy or scratchy old wool

Hanging jauntily at half mast

Remembering the poets who inspired us

The Beats or the Romantics

Sporting small glasses

but hardly what you’d call myopic

Full of pain or joy

Sharing it all uncensored

Putting it on paper

Or pixels upon the screen

Can you hear our laughter

Cringe with every scream?

A month full of berets

Reading, breathing, writing

Poetry. 

I'm Not Giving Up

There are many challenges in life. Some of them require strength and fortitude. Some of them require that we not do things we want to do. These times test our souls and the strength of our will. I must admit, I don't have much will power when it comes to passing by afternoon tea. 


The doughnuts in the picture above are gluten-free, made in my mini-doughnut maker for a darling girl who cannot have dairy or wheat. The frosting is raspberry flavored and topped with violet sugar. 


If you think you are "giving up" things, it makes you sound, and feel, defeated. If you abstain, you are in charge, in power and have made a choice. 


I choose to find solutions. I choose to take a potentially sad situation and find a way to find some joy in it. I choose to claim my power, my options and embrace my BoHo Mojo. 

Learning selflessness

against my inclinations

Winter into Spring