Where Does the Poetry Come From?

I often share poetry on this blog. These poems all come from a variety of sources. Lately I have been spending time reading through poetry collections in preparation for a workshop I am giving later in the week. If you want to spend some time with poetry, here are some volumes you might want to check out at your local library.

Good Poems , selected and introduced by Garrison Keillor.
This is an anthology of poems he has read on The Writer's Almanac on public radio each morning. It includes a wide variety of poems under categories such as O,Lord, Scenes, Day's Work, and A Good Life. Some of my favorites I found in this book are "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver, " A Blessing" by James Wright, and "Courage" by Anne Sexton.

poetry 180 , a Turning Back to Poetry, selected and introduced by Billy Collins.
When Billy Collins was the United States Poet Laureate he introduced a poem-a-day program with the Library of Congress. This collection is comprised of poems and poets we remember. Ones I love in this book are "Lines" by Martha Collins, " Small Comfort" by Katha Pollitt, and "The Invention of Heaven" by Dean Young.

Otherwise by Jane Kenyon. When she was in remission with cancer she began putting together this collection. In the last five days of her life, she finished this book. Each time I reread it I think of her love of words, her persistence for completion, and her sharp mind as she was adding and deleting with her poet husband Donald Hall up to the last day of her life. I love all the poems in this collection.

New and Selected Poems by Mary Oliver. This Pulizer Prize and National Book Award winning collection moves into more of a focus on nature. Again, it is hard to pick favorites. I do tend to reread "A Letter from Home", " "Roses, Late Summer", and "The Return."

Odes to Common Things by Pablo Neruda. This, like all his volumes, are presented side by side in English and Spanish. I was first introduced to this book in a poetry writing workshop years ago, but the reminded again of his work at my brother's writing workshop last summer. Neruda's book brings to light to beauty of the common things we can all understand like a pair of socks, a chair, and a spoon.

Otherwise
by Jane Kenyon
©2005 by the Estate of Jane Kenyon

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birchwood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.

Remembering Spring

I remember snowball blooms and green leaves and grass....


...and a time that I could make a bouquet from the tulips around the yard,


...and smell lilacs in Mom's backyard,...and see bleeding hearts that survived the snow.
I wonder if they are all under there growing under that protective cover of frozen snow? Only time will tell... but for now I will just remember spring as a lingering, long ago memory.

No Map

No Map

How close the clouds press this October first
and the rain-a gray scarf across the sky,
In separate hospitals my father and a dear friend
lie waiting for their respective operations,
hours on a table as surgeons crack their chests.
They were so brave when I talked to them last
as they spoke of the good times we would share
in the future. To neither did I say how much
I loved them, nor express the extent of my fear.
Their bodies are delicate glass boxes
at which the world begins to fling its stones.
Is this the day their long cry will be released?
How can I live in this place without them?
But today is also my son's birthday.
He is eight and beginning his difficult march.
To him the sky is welcoming, the road straight.
Far from my house he will open his presents-
a book, a Swiss Army knife, some music. Where
is his manual of instructions? Where is his map
showing the dark places and how to escape them?
-Stephen Dobyns

Cabin Fever Part 2

Well..... cabin fever has definitely taken over today at our house. It is snowing again... and sticking!When I got my fill of the white stuff powdering up the deck I decided to escape to the greenhouse.
Thank goodness for thriving plants and these beautiful variegated geranium leaves. I am ready for these plants to move outside.I think Isabelle just got tired of the snow also. She decided to ponder what to do next here while she caught up on her sleep.
I am afraid if this weather continues Annie will now have to get a sweater!
I am not dreaming of a white St. Patrick's Day.... I want a green St. Patrick's Day!! WAAAAHHHHH!

Perhaps It Is Cabin Fever?

Usually cats keep a set routine that rarely changes. Not at our house. Perhaps we can attribute it to cabin fever. McDuff hadn't visited inside the house since Shelby arrived, which was more than three years ago. He would hang out in the room attached to the garage and certainly in a bed in the garage, but not in the house. All of a sudden a few weeks ago McDuff has reappeared like he has always been hanging out with us in the evening. He comes in the kitchen in the morning to be fed and has even joined us on the bed at night. Go figure!Lily has also showed signs of a changed routine. When we adopted her she had never been around people or other animals much so she has always been a bit of a loner. She watches us a lot and is a follower outside, but keeps to herself inside in the room attached to the garage. Now she is venturing out also. She has jumped up on the back of the chair in the sunroom and rested behind JEJ's head. Today she just sat by the door like she was waiting for me to come and get ready for school (She always follows me in the morning and watches my routine of getting ready).
Did we add another dog to our pet family? No, Annie was given a spring cut that looks like a summer cut while it is still winter. Her fur was getting to be a bit of a mess and it was hard to tell if she was getting chubby or just had a lot of hair. JEJ decided a cut was in order earlier than usual. I can't believe how many cute freckles she has now! She does resemble a Pointer or German Shorthair and appears more lean as she continues to walk atop the snow that is STILL HERE!!
Of course, all these changes around the house just provide Shelby with new motivation for trying out her herding skills. With one more cat to corral around the house there is never a dull moment for Shelby.She still finds time to go out eat snow with her best buddy. Both of them are sure there are some yummy treasures buried right here. Will the snow ever melt? Perhaps there is someone else around this house that has cabin fever.

Learning How to Write

After yesterday's post I began thinking about how I learned how to write. When I say writing I am not referring to penmanship, but words to paper. The process of learning how to read is more vivid in my mind. At some point each child is given opportunities to write, but writing takes on so many more forms. Some of my early writing experiences were foundational structures which allowed me to move on to "real writing" later. I do remember copying the following poem in the fall of second grade:

The Squirrel

Anonymous

Whisky, frisky,
Hippity hop;
Up he goes
To the tree top!

Whirly, twirly,
Round and round,
Down he scampers
To the ground.

Furly, curly
What a tail!
Tall as a feather
Broad as a sail!

Where's his supper?
In the shell,
Snappity, crackity,
Out it fell.

I remember Mrs. Meyers reciting it, then me writing in on lined paper and drawing a picture of a squirrel. What is most memorable was memorizing it and performing it in front of the class. Looking at the poem now I can see the power of rhyme and strong words like "snappity, crackity". Even a simile has been introduced which I couldn't call by name in second grade. I don't even know if Mrs. Meyers knew by teaching that poem that she was forming a foundation for future writing, but experiences like this fill a child's imagination with examples that can be drawn out later.

I also remember doing Picture Study which involved studying a great work of art, the teaching composing sentences about that art, and the students copying them down on paper. Again, imitation is an effective strategy for moving a writer from set structure to structure with original thoughts. Later in sixth grade I felt so free when our teacher let us write our own page about the great work of art.
Letters were always a form of writing I recall composing as soon I knew how to write words. We wrote letters to our grandmothers, thank you letters for gifts, and in Camp Fire Girls it was a letter to a guest that had come to speak at our meeting. Many have said that the art of letter writing is fading, but I am a traditionalist. I still love to write letters and send them snail mail. I give my students opportunities to write notes and letters of appreciation to adults that surround them. I encourage them to also do "gifts of writing" to family members using their writing skills and heartfelt words at Mother's Day or before a parent conference.

In third grade my teacher gave us big white construction paper if we finished our work and let us create little villages with people and animals. I remember adding details to those pictures and sharing ideas with my friend KW, who was very artistic, and loving that creative time of letting my ideas out. I also think we wrote stories about those pictures.

As a grew as a writer I was given opportunities to compose poems and stories in class. It was always a big deal though. It was not part of our usual routine. I wish we would have written more, but maybe having it be such a special event made it memorable.

Today I had students working in groups to collaborate on a story. As they were keyboarding or writing in journals the room was abuzz with laughter and sharing. Budding writers move through phases that become a comfort zone. The boys in my class are in the "farts " stage and can describe that bodily function perfectly with vivid words and descriptions. In experimenting with theme, they have also decided every story has to have a zombie appear. Everyone waits now to see how the zombie appears. The girls are into mysteries. It always involves friends, spooky phone calls, a scary house, and boyfriends. They will move on soon to new and more challenging storylines. My phase used to be rhyming poetry. I would work so hard on getting the last word in each line to rhyme, I don't even know if the poem made sense!

As adults we are challenged to find the time to write. In the busyness of our work and life it is often difficult to have energy and inspiration to write much in the evening. Sometimes I just take that time to enjoy others' writing by reading blogs, grabbing poetry books, or a folder of student writing.
When you learn to read the letters and words begin to make sense. You move into more complex understanding of text, but once you learn how to decode the words, the science of reading is learned. Writing is different. I am still learning how to write. There are so many parts to writing that I shy away from. I don't write short stories because I don't feel like I can build characters effectively. I am not a lover of science fiction, so I don't attempt it. Academic articles have not been something I have sat down to create lately. The process of writing makes us lifelong learners. I can't imagine any writer ever saying, " I am done. I have mastered everything there is to know about writing. I guess I will move on to gourmet cooking." Hardly.