Today I’m joining millions of people in mourning the passing of poet Mary Oliver. Oliver’s poems, essays, and interviews comprise a master class not only in being a poet, but in being a better human. She taught us to live with our eyes, ears, and hearts always open to the multitudes of wonders and possibilities present in the world. It would be impossible for me to choose a favorite poem or even passage. So instead, I’ve taken the seven magically simple words that make up “Instructions For A Life” and created a Golden Shovel:
“Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”
Mary Oliver
1935-2019
Someone’s not-so-hidden entrance in this ancient rock wall in the woods behind my house.
Thank you, Mary Oliver, for so generously sharing your poetry, wisdom and love of our magnificent world. You will be missed. Please be sure to visit Tricia Stohr-Hunt at The Miss Rumphius Effect for the Poetry Friday Roundup.
But there, cradled within her teeth, flecks of brilliant ultramarine cry out, like a signal, bursting, hurdling across space, across time until its pulse is captured,
Unknown The Annunciation, about 1240, Tempera colors, gold leaf, and iron gall ink on parchment Leaf: 17.8 × 13.5 cm (7 × 5 5/16 in.), Ms. 4, leaf 1 The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles
In case you missed it, last week I suggested a Poetry Friday celebration of women when I host the Roundup on March 8th, which is International Women’s Day. You can find all the details here. Please be sure to visit Kathryn Apel for the Poetry Friday Roundup!
Just do it. Put your butt in the chair and write. So here I am, sitting in a chair, writing. I have a project I’ve been working on for several years that is nearing completion. An endless list of writing ideas for poems, picture books, and more. No more procrastinating.
This weekend, before I decided to stop procrastinating, I cleaned out my email inbox. (Is there such a thing as productive procrastination?) As I scanned the subject lines, certain words began to grab my attention. Simple words, but all words are full of possibilities, aren’t they? Soon, I had a list of more than twenty words in my notebook. Before I knew it, the words were arranging themselves into a poem.
There are many variations of found poetry. Some retain the word order as it appeared in an original text; others are more flexible. Because I found these words in email subject lines, I felt free to rearrange the order and add articles and small words such as to. Besides, keeping the beginning of the list in order resulted in this:
Today, hours Are free. The code Is yours, Waiting
Here
Here
Here.
If only!
Here is another poem I drafted with the found words from my email subject lines:
Seeds lie hidden in books: A collection, a code waiting to reveal hidden gifts for each soul lucky enough not to miss
the miracle.
Happy writing, everyone. Keep an eye out for those miracles!
Thank you to Stacey, Betsy, Beth, Kathleen, Deb, Kelsey, Melanie, and Lanny for creating this community and providing this space for teachers and others to share their stories every Tuesday. Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers to read more Slice of Life posts.
Happy New Year to all my Poetry Friday friends! As I was entering important dates into my new desk calendar, I discovered that, by pure coincidence, I am hosting the Poetry Friday Roundup on International Women’s Day (March 8th). I thought it would be appropriate to celebrate the day by sharing poems that honor women. These could be original poems or poems written by others. They could be poems about an important woman in your life who deserves to be celebrated, someone famous, an unsung woman of historical significance, or a poem by your favorite female poet. The choice is yours. So please feel free to participate (or not) in any way that feels right to you. I’ll post a few reminders between now and March 8th.
The theme of this year’s celebration is #BalanceforBetter. In 2017, I wrote this poem celebrating the women in my life who helped me be a better person. (You can read the original post here.)
Strong women taught me how to knit, to bake, to cook and sew.
Strong women taught me how to love, to live through strife and woe.
Strong women taught me not to count on others for my bread.
Strong women taught me to rely on my own wits instead.
Strong women taught me to be brave when lies and hate are spread.
Strong women taught me how to think, to stand for what is right.
Strong women taught me to be kind, to fill the world with light.
Happy Friday, everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday filled with family, friends, feasting, and love. Somehow, I managed to keep up with Mary Lee Hahn’s #haikuforhope. Here are my offerings for the week.
brief December days bookended by darkness long for sun’s bright shine
feathers ruffled against a cold, steady rain swans glide onward
snowflakes flit and float scattering fairy dust over the world
dawn’s golden light filtered by gathering clouds still holds promise
swollen stream rushes babbling its timeless tune: joy to the world
silent stars swirl, our dazzling partner in an endless cosmic dance
The turkey had been roasting for about forty-five minutes when we heard the POP! At first we thought juices had spattered, but then the oven timer went off.
I hadn’t set the timer.
When I got to the oven, a bright green “F1” was flashing where the temperature setting should have read 325 degrees. Uh-oh.
I tried to open the oven door. It would not budge. Locked. Tight.
My twenty pound turkey was stuck in the oven. Thirty people would be arriving for a Christmas feast in just a few hours.
“Go turn off the breaker,” I said to my husband. “Maybe it will reset itself and the door will open.” Meanwhile, I was mentally scanning my neighbor’s kitchens. Who was likely to be home, not needing their oven a week and a half before Christmas?
“Did that work?” my husband called from the basement.
“Yes! The door’s open!” I hollered back as I dialed the neighbor most likely to have an empty oven. “Hi, Jean? I need a huge favor.”
Fifteen minutes later, my turkey was safely tucked into Jean’s oven. But I still had mashed potatoes, butternut squash, and broccoli to worry about.
“Well, we were going to get a new oven soon anyway,” my husband reasoned. “I’ll just go buy one today.”
Within the hour, my well-used, trusted oven was on its way to the great appliance graveyard.
Within three hours, our new oven was settled into its new home, gleaming brightly.
Four hours after that ominous pop, the turkey finished roasting in our new oven, the potatoes were mashed, and the squash was boiling. When our first guests arrived, everything was under control. They only reason anyone knew anything had gone wrong was because we told them.
At school, we help students to put their problems in perspective, categorizing them as bummers, glitches, or catastrophes. Thanks to a good neighbor and a handy husband, what at first felt like a catastrophe turned out to be only a glitch. Dinner was on the table a bit later than originally planned, but otherwise, our Christmas celebration with my husband’s family went off without a hitch. It was a miracle!
Wishing you all a glitch-free holiday! Thank you to Stacey, Betsy, Beth, Kathleen, Deb, Kelsey, Melanie, and Lanny for creating this community and providing this space for teachers and others to share their stories every Tuesday. Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers to read more Slice of Life posts.
Last night I was at a total loss about what to share today. For some reason, I remembered this post by Irene Latham about using Google Arts & Culture as a source for images for her annual Artspeak! poetry project. When I opened the site, these stunning images greeted me.
These are all pieces of glass, but this image in particular reminded me of malachite.
Stained glass fragment, 13th century, via The Metropolitan Museum of Art
I wanted to confirm what I thought I knew about this stunning green mineral, so I Googled it and this image popped up.
Which led to this poem:
He pressed a polished malachite heart into my hand; whispered, “to match your eyes,” then hurried off to Mrs. King’s calculus class.
No one noticed as I sprouted gossamer wings and floated into
