This week's Poetry Friday entry are the terrific poems from yesterday photopoetry of 15 words or less. Here was the picture:



And here are the poems.




Clinging precariously
Dancing in the sunshine
One big wind could mean the end
Such tragedy
~Anne McKenna

Like peas in a pod
They followed Bob
They, too, loved the magic of grass

~slatts

Attachment

One fine thread,
that's all,
but it's enough,
my friend
across space, across time.

~Kathy Q.
wordsrmylife

Fringe on the curtain,
swaying in the breeze.
Wait, those are lacewings
traveling by trapeze.

~Cindyb

Eggs waiting
to be hatched
to live
to kill
to love
to lay
to die

~Christine

BLIND DATE

"Me...Me...Me..."

She gazes
at the pendant
lighting imagining
him hanging
by his nose.

~Diane Mayr

Green Invasion
We disguise our ship
as earth-grass,
extending traps. Soon
we will capture aphid-beings
to interrogate.

~Kate Coombs

Swinging in a warm breeze
Faster
Higher
Stretching toward the sunshine
Suspended paradise

~Celeste Ribbins

Tiny Jewels

tiny jewels
don't be fooled
hanging free
disguised as peas
waiting for their enemies.
~Sue Douglass Fliess

Safekeeping
Mother Nature
hangs lacewing eggs
like my mom
tied mitts on a string

~Violet Nesdoly
(http://line-upon-line.blogspot.com)

Deep into a fairy world of green
sliding
swinging
laughing
playing
loving
life.

~Linda Covella

Swamp plants upended,
cling to milkweed shores,
reaching with poised
buds to waiting water: home.

~Brenda Stokes
www.brendastokes.com

Fragile.
Delicate.
Wonderous.
Life hangs on
by a thread
in spite of us.

Tantinizingly Tenacious

~stu pidasso

How many greens
can be found-
values criss-cross
on the ground,
summer soup
of color.

~Diane M. Davis

This week's Poetry Friday entry are the terrific poems from yesterday photopoetry of 15 words or less. Here was the picture:



And here are the poems
Tethered Lives
cornflakes and scales
hay bales
rabbit trails
bone rails -

we live in chains.

--- Allen Taylor
@WorldClassPoet

Don't know what it's for
But over by the door
Hole there in the floor

--- slatts

Break through.
Peer
Into the Darkness.
Or climb in
And find out what's really there.

--- Becky Levine

Trust, Adventure, Imagination
No one knows
what's inside a hole,
emptiness
or a world of
jabberwockies
and hobbits.

--- Diane M. Davis


 

CRAZY ARITHMETIC

one minuscule crack
+
one infinitesimal drop of moisture
+
one process of oxidization
=
one unexpected delight

--- Diane Mayr

Sunburn
Dry peeling skin
made him groan
low and eerie
like midnight's moan.

--- Cindyb


 

Aim for the next
level--
Ready?
Set?
Leap!

--- Kathy Q.
wordsrmylife

If Willy Loman Had a Sex Change
Death of a Suburban Mother and Saleswoman, circa 1950s

That iron did
me no good
I threw it
down

Done

To hell with
you

--- Pamela Ross

Never listen to sixth grade kids -

"Put your nose here,"
they said.

Sucked in!

--- Susan Stephenson





Fix - now please
For you never know
how big I will become
Maybe eternal ugliness

---  Anne McKenna

This week's Poetry Friday entry are the terrific poems from yesterday photopoetry of 15 words or less. Here was the picture:

And here are the poems!
 

Lolipop
of lint and life
waits for wind
to disseminate
procreation.

~~~ Diane M. Davis

Shared Desire
Gray hair, untamed,
just like mine.
We hope for a breeze
at the clothesline.

~~~ Cindy Breedlove

This is proof--
even a flower
can have
a bad hair day.

~~~ Cynthia Cotten

I
am
so
beautiful.

Why do you
revile me,
repulse me?

~~~ mlyearofreading

A DANDY PLAN

She fastens
her children
to parachutes
preparing them
for an inconspicuous
invasion of
cultivated lands.

~~~  Diane Mayr

Helen meant to blow,
but instead she inhaled.
Then she spat and coughed.

~~~ jennifer-d-g

Sunships of wonder
waiting to ride
the breeze,
to create their own worlds.

~~~ Kathy Q.
wordsrmylife

together we grew
then the winds came
scattering us afar
it's time
to bloom apart.

~~~ melissa

Wishing to be 5 yrs old again.
With wisdom
to know how great 5 is.
~poof~

~~~ Amanda

Wish

A hundred tiny wisps of hope
Waiting to be sent into the world.

~~~ Sue Douglass Fliess

Just one big blow
Fly away fairies
Bring back wishes
of hope,
happiness and love

~~~ Anne Mckenna

Sphinx Sperm?
Soft, white and tiny
dandelion seeds twirl gently on
a mythical breeze.

~~~ John Mutford
 

This week's Poetry Friday entry are the terrific poems from yesterday photopoetry of 15 words or less. Here was the picture:



And here are the poems!



Watch your step
you never know where they go
way down
into depths of despair
-- Anne McKenna

Watch Your Back
Planks remain bare

Poisonous vines
don't tread visible paths

They climb directly
into your heart

--Laura Purdie Salas

Conquering
Breath catching
Heart palpitating,
searching depths
Mastering fear,
Take a step!
been afraid too long

-- melissa

I'm so glad
I'm not Jimmy Stewart
In that movie
VERTIGO
Instead,
Here I go!

-- slatts

The view--spectacular!
But now....

Spinning, spiraling....

Where's Jimmy Stewart
when you need him?

-- Kathy Q.
wordsrmylife

Round
and round
redwood tight-gripped
I wish
life
had so graceful
a bannister.

-- sartorias
 

Wasn't sure
where I was headed.
Pick a card,any card.
Life's a gamble.

--  Martha Calderaro

Round and round
One step down.
Round and round
Two steps down.
All around. Ground.
-- Louise Henriksen

July 9 Post - 15 word poem
Cycles, circles go around,
Until the way of dusty death and ground.

-- G Grenley

Each day
fans out
from Summer
separate
but connected
in their uniformity
of season.

-- Diane M. Davis

Steps too narrow.
Feet too long.
Thanks--
I think I'll stay
up here.

-- Cynthia Cotten

Board

Board, so bored,
with the same steps.
Time to stop looking back and go up.

-- Sue Douglass Fliess

The Board Monster
Board monster's here.
Couldn't nail him down.
It spins wooden paddles
spanking kids in town.

-- Joyce Lansky

Here I stand at the top of the stairs
Wondering which way to go.

-- Barbara Van Deusen







Jama has the round-up of all the Poetry Friday posts today!
 

the body falls
into an upturned truth
its been waiting to meet
all its life

-- Shutta Crumm

Recently author/poet Beth Kephart had a poetry contest on her blog and Jill Santopolo, senior editor at HarperTeen was the judge. To  my surprise, I won! I thought I would repost the original poem here.

It was written when I began to work on my latest MG verse novel MTLB. I had stalled on that book for a while but now I find myself thinking about this character again and wanting to get to know him a little bit better.

Searching for the boy
I find him
not running
not hiding
but standing
up
for someone who is
not him
for someone who is
like him
for someone who
doesn't know
how
to stand up for himself.

Not recognizing
their very sameness
he fights
for what
he
doesn't want
to be.


© Susan Taylor Brown, 2009

Irene Latham has the round-up for this week's Poetry Friday.
 

Yes, Poetry Friday is here. Please leave a link to your post here in the comments and I'll add them to the post throughout the day.

I wasn't sure what I was going to post for this week's Poetry Friday. Then a few people sent me their links early and I went and read their posts (and sniffled a little) and was struck with a childhood memory that I had pushed to the back of my mind for over 45 years. I was compelled to try and capture the memory in a poem and then either brave enough or foolish enough to post it here. The poem might upset some people and for that, I apologize. 


MY FRIENDS HAD FATHERS

My friends had fathers
who all were soldiers,
who went off to fight
instead of staying safe, at home.

My mother had a father
who did his part,
and an uncle who enlisted 
the day he turned 18.

My grandmother had two brothers
who carried guns to battle, side by side.
One came home without a leg.
One never came home at all

I had a mother who shoved me in the closet
when the men in suits, came to the door

Shush now, don't tell them
where your father went.

Easy enough.
I didn't know.

I wish my father had been strong enough,
not of body but of heart,
strong enough to do the right thing,
even if he felt afraid

I wish my father had been someone I could be proud of,
someone who fought for us,
someone who believed his family and his country,
were worth protecting.

I wish my father
had been a soldier.

--- Susan Taylor Brown
     May 21, 2009

© Susan Taylor Brown, 2009




Leave a link to your Poetry Friday post here in the comments and I'll add them to the post throughout the day. Please remember I am in California for there may be a slight time delay. 
 
NOTE: Please leave your NAME and a PERMALINK  to your post so that I don't have to go visit every blog just to do the round-up. Thanks!

THE ROUND-UP!

I will continue to add to this throughout the day.

We had a lot of original poems this week. I love that poets are sharing original work on the blogs and I thank them all for letting us see these pieces of their work that may or may not ever appear anywhere else.


ORIGINAL POEMS

I have an original poem about my draft doging father above,

Violet at Book Brew posted her original poem Wisdom of the Scarecrow. 

Over at Gotta Book, Greg talks about two of his favorite topics, baseball and poetry, and about a site that mixes them both, including an original poem of his own.

A Wrung Sponge was inspired by it feeling like summer with the neighborhood kids cavorting and posted an original haiku. and Lorie Ann Grover, rgz diva/author has Highlighted, another original haiku.

Kristy Dempsey is in with her own take on hope (a la Dickinson's feathery version).

There's an amazing bunch of 15 Words or Less poems--all eggshell-inspired--up today at with Laura Salas.

Irene Latham contributes another original poem in her historical women series, this one about Picasso's widow Jacqueline.

Mitali Perkins says, "I'm in with a poem about old world parents raising a new world teen -- Pathos by 17-year-old Miranda, the third-prize winner from last year's Fire Escape poetry contest."
 
MiaZagora was inspired to rework the words of her nephew into a poem here. (Note, you can't comment on this poem unless you are a member of the team.) 

The theme of loss is strong this week. A husband missing his wife shares his original poem Waiting to Sleep . Another original poem is, Shadow Loss, by Tiel Aisha and Lost is an original poem by Priya Ganesan at Book Crumbs.

Holly Cupala posts a poem she wrote from a workshop with poet Ellen Hopkins.

Melissa D. Johnston shares an original poem about her grandmother. 

Serena Woods shares her original poem Genetics

Mer Blackwood says, "I posted an outtake from my major work in progress, a fantasy poem I've been working on since 1999. A while back, I had to cut out a subplot. I think this scene, The Endless Echo of Defeat can stand alone as a vignette.


POEMS BY OTHERS

Keep a tissue handy when you read Sara Lewis Holmes post about her poetry and tear filled visit to the Liberty Bell.

Stop by The Write Sisters  Was a Man by Philip Booth,  a poem about introspection.

Celebrations abound this Poetry Friday as Julie at The Drift Record celebrates the appointment of Ruth Padel, to the position of Oxford Professor of Poetry (the first woman to hold the post since it was created in 1708) with Padel's poem Tigers Drinking Over at Forest Pool. 

Jama Marattigan celebrates National Strawberry Month with a poem by Genevieve Taggard and in honor of her niece, Meg, who is graduating from high school today, Carol posted God Says Yes To Me

Kurious Kitty shares Eavan Boland's Dublin, 1959 and Karen Edmisten introduces us to Barbara Crooker,

Everything's coming up Roses and Rue by Oscar Wilde, thanks to Little Willow.

Pull on your cowboy books and mosey over to Liz Scanlon and read all about the great big state of Texas.

Poems about animals? Of course we have them. First there is St. Francis and the Sow by Galway Kinnell over at 7-Imp and then over at readertotz you can read Kookaburra.

Susan shares Morning 85 a poem by a local poet she discovered in a literary tour of her hometown.

Semicolon talks about poetry and hymnic research.

The Stenhouse Blog posts What I Know About Epistemology by John Surowiecki.

Amy Planchak Graves shares Green Grass and Dandelions by Margaret Wise Brown.

Another post  dedicated to our heroes in our lives from Stella.

Mary Lee has a poem for teachers by Tracy Vaughn Zimmer for teachers.

Sarah Rettger says, "This week's poem is a big thank you to all the people who think about race in writing, put themselves out there, and push me to challenge my privilege. Y'all are awesome, and don't get nearly enough credit. Read it here at  Archimedes Forgets

REVIEWS AND INTERVIEWS

Tracie Vaughn Zimmer has an interview and teacher guide for Hope Anita Smith's book Mother Poems and MsMac has an interview with Sage Cohen, local Portland author who donated her poetry books to the Bridget Zinn auction.

Elaine Magliaro says, "At Wild Rose Reader, I have recommendations for poetry collections and anthologies that are wonderful for sharing with young children--as well as a link to a post about using a "poetry suitcase" to get kids excited about hearing and talikng about poems."

Kelly Herold (welcome back to blogging, Kelly) is in with a review of  a biography of William Carlos Williams for the youngsters.

But wait, there are more reviews!

John Mutford reviews a collection by Canadian poet Di Brandt called Speaking of Power ,Anastasia Suen talks about Kristy Dempsey's brand-new picture book debut Me With You and over on Great Kid Books, Mary Ann recommends Tap Dancing on the Roof, by Linda Sue Park. It's full of funny poems that make kids think.

Kelly Fineman has terrific interview with Ryan Mecum, the author of ZOMBIE HAIKU.


AUDIO AND VIDEO

At Blue Rose Girls Elaine shares a Favorite Poem Project video of Stephen Conteaguero talking about his life and reciting the poem Politics by William Butler Yates in honor of Memorial Day.

Diane Myar takes a look at Today I look at YouTube poetry .

 

Recently Santa Clara county appointed its first ever Poet Laureate, Nils Peterson. Peterson hopes to help make poetry more accessible to people who otherwise might not "get" poetry. Isn't that what Poetry Friday is all about?

From a recent article in the San Jose Mercury News about Peterson:

"When you write poetry, you see the world differently, you see it more sharply," muses Peterson, who refers to himself as a coffee shop poet. "If you look at things hard enough, they start to look back at you."

The poet hopes that language can help us catch our breath in the world as change comes fast and hard all around us.

"Poetry takes a snapshot of where we are so we can look back," says Peterson. "We are all moving so quickly that we forget, we begin to live in a perpetual present. Poetry helps us remember."

You can read more about Peterson at the Poetry Center San Jose.


Where Here Is

How will we know where here is
until it tells us, until this oak speaks
its story and these grasses whisper
what their mothers said to them
when they were seedlings? The crow
overhead is not just a carrier of
crowness. It speaks with the caw
of its own life. The air about us
is this air carrying smell messages
from the majesty of this place.
Knowing where here is — is paying
back the world with our attention,
not planting a heavy foot on the shore
of the earth like a conquistador.

— Nils Peterson

For National Poetry Month I made a personal challenge to write a haiku a day based on my California Native Plant garden. After rereading them tonight I thought I would share a few of my favorites for Poetry Friday.
 

Catalina Ironwood

beneath feathered bark
alligator lizards hide
blue jays go hungry

Woolly Blue Curls

royal fuzzy blue
ballarina Arabesque
dancing with the bees


 

Mountain Mahogany

from exploding seeds
sparkling feathers light the sky
somewhere a child smiles

Western Redbud

spring unleashed, it blooms
pink kisses flirt with the sun
Kool-Aid explosion

Flannel Bush

careful where you plant
giant sunshine on a stick
where did that house go?

All poems @copyright Susan Taylor Brown 2009

I didn't get up this morning with the intent to write an original poem. In fact, I have been so focused on getting the word out for the Library-lovin' challenge which is the brainstorm of the uber-smartwriterjenn that I forgot all about it being Poetry Friday at all, despite my promise to myself to get more involved in it. Then I went to my own post on the Library challenge, hoping to have at least broken through 100 comments and I was surprised and a wee bit sad to see it at only 75. I wonder if people are afraid their is some sort of catch? Are they worried that if they leave a comment, despite all our promises, they are going to get a bill in the mail demanding their donation? Are they afraid that we're tracking their names and IP address and who knows what else for some other less-pure purpose? Or do they believe that just one comment can't make a difference so they don't even bother? No matter what the answer I do hope that the cause will gain momentum through-out today and tomorrow.

As I said, I woke up thinking about libraries and how much they have meant to me over the years. I have often said the books saved me until I was strong enough to save myself. And the idea for this poem came to me....rough around the edges as I just wrote it an hour ago.
 

WHERE DO I GO?

Where do I go
when home is not enough
or becomes too much
to bear?

Where do I go
to find myself
when I am lost
to find others
who are just like me
or not like me
or from a place
I wish I could call
my own?

Where do I go
to take a chance
to follow my dreams
to learn to believe
who I am
is more than enough
for me to be?

I go to books
and find
new worlds

I go to books
and find
new friends

I go to books
and
find myself.

Susan Taylor Brown
@copyright Susan Taylor Brown 2009

The full Poetry Friday round-up is with Julie Larios at The Drift Record.


If you love books and libraries as much as I do, please consider backing up one post in the blog and making a comment to help the cause.

I recently completed teaching a series of seven sessions in a poetry workshop for incarcerated teens and on the last day they spent nearly an houring writing the following group poem. Though I posted it in my blog post on Wednesday when I talked about the session, I wanted to post it again today as it really touched my heart.



Poetry
has a beautiful life to it.

You sound like happiness, sadness, love
taste like fresh strawberries
and feel like soft skin, sandpaper, a brick wall.

Poetry is all the colors of the rainbow
and smells like freedom, incarceration, a sexy girl.

Oh poetry, you drive me crazy.

You make me want to scream, to feel, to heal.

You look like sunshine and moonlight in the city.

Poetry is feelings on paper.

The round-up today is at Adventures in Daily Living.

We are actually enjoying some much needed rain here in San Jose this week so this poem by Lawrence Schimel, akadesayunoencama , appealed to me. It originally appeared here in the Christian Science Monitor. It is reprinted here with Lawrence's permission.


Cloudy, With a Chance of Poems

The Weatherman predicts
a partially sunny day.
But the Poet doesn't care
if it rains or if the sun shines;
there's poetry in every kind of weather.

An idea for a poem
blows in like a sudden storm,
words dropping into the Poet's mind
in a clear, quick rhythm
like the pitter-pat of rain
against the rooftop.

An image seen in the shadow of a cloud
suddenly sparks another poem
quick as lightning forking the sky.

Fair weather or foul,
the Poet welcomes all possibilities.

The Poet predicts today will be
a day with a chance of poems.

by Lawrence Schimel

The Poetry Friday roundup is withlaurasalas  today. Read more Poetry Friday posts or add your link here.

I came across this poem today while looking for poems to use at juvenile hall next week. I was searching for several "identity" types of poems to cut up and let the students rebuild. So often the hardest thing to do is to just stay still, be quiet, be who you are so the world can find you.


Lost

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you,
If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

David Wagoner

Learn more about this poet here.

This week's round-up of all the Poetry Friday posts can be found here, with thanks to Anastaia Suen

I haven't done Poetry Friday in a long time but I have been rereading this poem a lot of late. I printed it out to keep near me in my office to remind me of my most important goal for the coming year, to be here, be now. I need to become closer to the me that others see and realize that person is a person of value. I want to be comfortable in my skin, whatever shape it may be at the moment. 


Now I Become Myself

Now I become myself. It's taken
Time, many years and places;
I have been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other people's faces,
Run madly, as if Time were there,
Terribly old, crying a warning,
"Hurry, you will be dead before—"
(What? Before you reach the morning?
Or the end of the poem is clear?
Or love safe in the walled city?)
Now to stand still, to be here,
Feel my own weight and density!
The black shadow on the paper
Is my hand; the shadow of a word
As thought shapes the shaper
Falls heavy on the page, is heard.
All fuses now, falls into place
From wish to action, word to silence,
My work, my love, my time, my face
Gathered into one intense
Gesture of growing like a plant.
As slowly as the ripening fruit
Fertile, detached, and always spent,
Falls but does not exhaust the root,
So all the poem is, can give,
Grows in me to become the song,
Made so and rooted by love.
Now there is time and Time is young.
O, in this single hour I live
All of myself and do not move.
I, the pursued, who madly ran,
Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun! 

May Sarton