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Howdy, Campers!
Happy Poetry Friday! A poem by Paul Bennett and the link to Tabatha's Poetry Friday post are below.
In TeachingAuthors' opening round for 2015, we are each asking ourselves, "What Are We 'Plotting' for 2015?"
Mary Ann started us out, sharing how she does or does not plot."Planning and plotting are not the same thing," she writes. "Plotting is knowing what happens first, then next, then next and at the end. I never know more than one of those things before I start writing. I've stopped worrying about it."
Thank you, Mary Ann. I haven't a clue how to plot. When I sit down to write, I'm never sure if I'm starting a poem, a song, a verse novel or a picture book. I might be inspired by a color or a phrase from the news. Of course I knew not everyone plots their stories methodically, but it's great relief to be reminded of this!
 |
A group photo of the TeachingAuthors.
from morguefile.com |
We are each snowflakes in the way we approach writing and life; and beyond this, I think that we are different from moment to moment, year to year, in crisis and celebration.
For example, until recently, I would say I'm fairly disciplined. I've been writing a poem every day since April 1, 2010 (
1,743 poems), I brawl with L.A. traffic every two weeks to meet with my marvelous critique group, I write in amiable silence with three or four other writers weekly, and I have a goal or two tucked away in my writer's smock--a couple of picture books, a novel in verse, a collection of poetry, a Pulitzer Prize.
But when my mother began to fade, particularly this last year, it was all I could do to hold onto my writer's smock. Why? Partly because of the increased responsibility, and partly because of the foggy lethargy which set in.
 |
Yeah...kinda like this.
from morguefile.com |
There is so much to do, now that
Mom has died. So, I've stopped attending my critique group, stopped writing books, stopped meeting with other authors at my friend's sunny kitchen table.
I still write a poem a day, though.
So, What am I Plotting in 2015? Nothing.
Well, writing a poem a day. But beyond that? I haven't a clue.
I'm reading
Loving Grief by Paul Bennett, a book in brief chapters, each of which ends in a poem, written after the death of his wife. In the chapter,
Coming to a Stop, he writes that the three times over a period of months his legs would no longer carry him forward. He stopped. On a street, in an airport, on a hiking trail. Later, he wrote, "those incidents of coming to a stop, those moments of stillness, struck me as early invitations from deep within myself to start new."
Here is the poem which ends that chapter:
Well. I was
going to post the poem, until I read the copyright page (oops) which states that I cannot post it without permission. So I won't.
What I
will do is to post my own poem about stopping in my life. Please note that each person experiences a death uniquely. I don't feel as if I'm in deep grief right now. Still:
STOPPING BY THE WOODSby April Halprin Wayland
No snow.No woods.
But I pause.To hear the hawk.To breathe my breath.To hold this stone.Alone.
poem (c) 2015 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved.
I think I'm listening for the music to cue my next step.
I'll be ready.
posted with affection by April Halprin Wayland
I thought I had picked out One Word for the year. Standing around the flickering candles of the Yule tree last evening (secretly beaming because the children have memorized all the words of our 12-day Yuletide ritual), my One Word seemed obvious: LIGHT. There was my trademark quick decision, done and dusted. (This is how I found myself married the first time.)
LIGHT is a lovely word, especially powerful at this dark time of year, with many meanings in several parts of speech, and it seemed to capture the direction I need to keep going in: a lighter grip, a lighter touch, a light heart and as much light as possible shining into my pupils (puntended).
By bedtime, though, I'd stepped back into a more practical place and realized that LIGHT was perhaps not as active a word as I need--and it certainly wasn't so pertinent to my writing life, which is where I need to put particular attention. And I thought about how a lighter grip, how an infusion of light into the work, are what's required for good revision, whether of writing or of hasty decisions. Other requirements for revision include patience, resting and flexibility--all areas where I could grow generally, and where my writing could benefit from less product and more persistence. And so--in the very spirit of revision--I changed my One Word to REVISE.
Just to make sure I was on the right track, I Googled the word and found a definition which includes LIGHT--two for the price of one!
re·vise rəˈvīz/ verb1.
reconsider and alter (something) in the light of further evidence.
I shared this decision with my spouse, who noodled alongside me, wondering about
revision, envision and several other word choices, while I listened to myself do what I always do: "Just stop with the possibilities-- I've made my choice and I'm sticking with it! No time to consider anything else! Got to get on with it!" The irony is exquisite... and I reserve the right to change my mind about my One Word should the light of further evidence require it.
*******************
One Word 2015
held and holding tight:
getting a grip
becomes a vice
time and again re-vise:
letting the light
in more than twice
HM 2015all rights reserved *******************
The Poetry Friday Round-up is with Tricia at
The Miss Rumphius Effect. Happy New Year--and New Words--to all!
EL BRINDIS BOHEMIO
Guillermo Aguirre Fierro (Mexicano)El Paso, Texas 1915
En torno de una mesa de cantina,una noche de invierno,regocijadamente departíanseis alegres bohemios.
Los ecos de sus risas escapabany de aquel barrio quietoiban a interrumpir el imponentey profundo silencio.
El humo de olorosos cigarillosen espirales se elevaba al cielo,simbolizando al resolverse en nada,la vida de los sueños.
Pero en todos los labios había risas,inspiración en todos los cerebros,y, repartidas en la mesa, copaspletóricas de ron, whisky o ajenjo.
Era curioso ver aquel conjunto,aquel grupo bohemio,del que brotaba la palabra chusca,la que vierte veneno,lo mismo que, melosa y delicada,la música de un verso.
A cada nueva libación, las penashallábanse más lejosdel grupo, y nueva inspiración llegabaa todos los cerebros,con el idilio roto que veníaen alas del recuerdo.
Olvidaba decir que aquella noche,aquel grupo bohemiocelebraba entre risas, libaciones,chascarrillos y versos,la agonía de un año que amargurasdejó en todos los pechos,y la llegada, consecuencia lógica,del "feliz año nuevo".
Una voz varonil dijo de pronto:- las doce, compañeros;digamos el "requiescat" por el añoque ha pasado a formar entre los muertos.¡Brindemos por el año que comienza!porque nos traiga ensueños;porque no sea su equipaje un cúmulode amargos desconsuelos.
- Brindo, dijo otra voz, por la esperanzaque la vida nos lanza,de vencer los rigores del destino,por la esperanza, nuestra dulce amiga,que las penas mitigay convierte en vergel nuestro camino.
Brindo porque ya hubiere a mi existenciapuesto fin con violenciaesgrimiendo en mi frente mi venganza;si en mi cielo de tul limpio y divinono alumbrara mi sinouna pálida estrella: Mi esperanza.
¡Bravo!, dijeron todos, inspiradoesta noche has estadoy hablaste bueno, breve y substancioso.El turno es de Raúl; alce su copay brinde por . . . Europa,ya que su extranjerismo es delicioso.
Bebo y brindo, clamó el interpelado;brindo por mi pasado,que fue de luz, de amor y de alegría,y en el que hubo mujeres seductorasy frentes soñadorasque se juntaron con la frente mía.
Brindo por el ayer que en la amarguraque hoy cubre de negrurami corazón, esparce sus consuelostrayendo hasta mi mente las dulzurasde goces, de ternuras,de dichas, de deliquios, de desvelos.
-Yo brindo, dijo Juan, porque en mi mentebrote un torrentede inspiración divina y seductora,porque vibre en las cuerdas de mi lirael verso que suspira,que sonríe, que canta y que enamora.
Brindo porque mis versos cual saetaslleguen hasta las grietasformadas de metal y de granito,del corazón de la mujer ingrataque a desdenes me mata.¡pero que tiene un cuerpo muy bonito!
Porque a su corazón llegue mi canto,porque enjuguen mi llantosus manos que me causan embelesos;porque con creces mi pasión me pague.¡vamos!, porque me embriaguecon el divino néctar de sus besos.
Siguió la tempestad de frases vanas,de aquellas tan humanasque hallan en todas partes acomodo,y en cada frase de entusiasmo ardiente,hubo ovación creciente,y libaciones, y reir, y todo.
Se brindó por la patria, por las flores,por los castos amoresque hacen un valladar de una ventana,y por esas pasiones voluptuosasque el fango del placer llena de rosasy hacen de la mujer la cortesana.
Sólo faltaba un brindis, el de Arturo,el del bohemio puro,de noble corazón y gran cabeza;aquel que sin ambages declarabaque sólo ambicionabarobarle inspiración a la tristeza.
Por todos lados estrechado, alzó la copafrente a la alegre tropadesbordante de risa y de contentolos inundó en la luz de una mirada,sacudió su melena alborotaday dijo así, con inspirado acento:
-Brindo por la mujer, mas no por esaen la que halláis consuelo en la tristeza,rescoldo del placer ¡desventurados!no por esa que os brinda sus hechizoscuando besáis sus rizosartificiosamente perfumados.
Yo no brindo por ella, compañeros,siento por esta vez no complaceros.Brindo por la mujer, pero por una,por la que me brindó sus embelesosy me envolvió en sus besos;por la mujer que me arrulló en la cuna.
Por la mujer que me enseñó de niñolo que vale el cariñoexquisito, profundo y verdadero;por la mujer que me arrulló en sus brazosy que me dió en pedazosuno por uno, el corazón entero.
¡Por mi madre! bohemios, por la ancianaque piensa en el mañanacomo en algo muy dulce y muy deseado,porque sueña tal vez que mi destinome señala el caminopor el que volveré pronto a su lado.
Por la anciana adorada y bendecida,por la que con su sangre me dió vida,y ternura y cariño;por la que fue la luz del alma mía;y lloró de alegríasintiendo mi cabeza en su corpiño.
Por esa brindo yo, dejad que llore,que en lágrimas desfloreesta pena letal que me asesina;dejad que brinde por mi madre ausente,por la que llora y sienteque mi ausencia es un fuego que calcina.
Por la anciana infeliz que sufre y lloray que del cielo imploraque vuelva yo muy pronto a estar con ella;por mi madre bohemios, que es dulzuravertida en mi amarguray en esta noche de mi vida, estrella.
El bohemio calló; ningún acentoprofanó el sentimientonacido del dolor y la ternura,y pareció que sobre aquel ambienteflotaba inmensamenteun poema de amor y de amargura.
Astrid Lindgren’s book The Tomten was inspired by this very famous Swedish poem called The Tomte by Victor Rydberg. Originally in Swedish, I share it with you here in English so you can be inspired by these little gnome elves.
Deep in the grip of the midwinter cold
Stars send a sparkling light.
All are asleep on this lonely farm,
Deep in the winter night.
The pale white moon is wanderer,
And snow lies white on pine and fir.
Snow glows on rooftop shake.
The tomte alone is awake.
Gray, he stands by the low bran door,
Gray by the drifted snow,
Gazing, as many winters he’s gazed,
Up at the moon’s chill glow,
Then at the forest where fir and pine
Circle the farm in a dusky line,
Mulling relentlessly
A riddle that has no key.
Rubs his hand through his beard and hair,
Shakes his head and his cap.
“No, that question is much too deep,
I cannot fathom that.”
Then making his mind up in a hurry,
He shrugs away the annoying wory;
Turns at his own command,
Turns to the task at hand.
Goes to the storehouse and toolshop doors,
Checking the locks of all,
While the cows dream on in the cold moon’s light,
Summer dreams in each stall.
And free of harness and whip and rein,
Even Old Palle dreams again.
The manger he’s drowsing over
Brims with fragrant clover.
The tomte glances at sheep and lambs
Cuddled in quiet rest.
The chickens are next, where the rooster roosts
High above straw filled nests.
Burrowed in straw, hearty and hale,
Karo wakens and wags his tail
As if to say, “Old friend, “Partners we are to the end.”
At last the tomte tiptoes in
To see how the housefolk fare.
He knows full well the strong esteem
They feel for his faithful care.
He tiptoes into the children’s beds,
Silently peers at their tousled heads.
There is no mistaking his pleasure:
These are his greatest treasure.
Long generations has he watched
Father to son to son
Sleeping as babes. But where, he aske,
From where, from where have they come?
Families came, families went,
Blossomed and aged, a lifetime spent,
Then-Where? That riddle again
Unanswered in his brain!
Slowly he turns to the barnyard loft,
His fortress, his home and rest,
High in the mow, in the fragrant hay
Near to the swallow’s nest.
The nest is empty, but in the spring
When birds mid leaves and blossoms sing,
And come with her tiny mate.
Then will she talke of the journey tell.
Twittering to all who hear it,
But nary a hint for the question old
That stirs in the tomte’s spirit.
Now through cracks in the haymow wall
The moon lights tomte and hay and all,
Lights his beard t hrough the chinks,
The tomte ponders and thinks.
Still is the forest and all the land,
Locked in this wintry year.
Only the distant waterfall
Whispers and sighs in his ear.
The tomte listens and, half in dream,
Thnks that he hears Time’s endless stream,
And wonders, where is it bound?
Where is its source to be found?
Deep in the grip of the midwinter cold,
Stars send a sparkling light.
All are asleep on this lonely farm,
Late in this winter night.
The pale white moon is a wanderer,
Snow lies white on pine and fir;
Snow glows on rooftop shake.
The tomte alone is awake.
The post The Tomte by Victor Rydberg appeared first on Jump Into A Book.
By: yesisedit,
on 11/8/2014
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Little bee, no swerving from your line when you deliver the goods back home.
A busy place with no door but when you enter you still use your buzzer.
Then back again from flower to flower, collecting the pollen that gives you power.
It’s home again, little bundles carried to feed the Queen
By: yesisedit,
on 11/5/2014
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Howdy, Campers! Happy Poetry Friday! Poem and link to Poetry Friday are below ~
Our topic this round is Do you try to appeal to reluctant readers, or any particular type of reader, when you write?
Carmela's post addresses the topic of writing to reading levels thoroughly. She writes:"If you want your writing to appeal to boys and other reluctant readers, don't try to target this particular audience. That's right, DON'T target them. Instead, write what moves, excites, or interests YOU."
Mary Ann's post, agrees: "I write what I am passionate about. I write for my inner eleven-year-old. It's the best that I can do. It's all any of us can do."
As for me?
I titled this 3 Leading Ways to Target Your Writing for Children--NOT! because I agree with Carmela and Mary Ann's conclusions. Essentially, write with passion and you'll hit a bullseye.
 |
| from morguefile.com |
Here are three thoughts hopefully
slightly related to this topic:
1) I am a reluctant reader. Always have been. Once I dive into a book, I'm swimming, but getting to the edge of the pool, dipping my toe in? Terrifying. Every book. Every time.
2) Many years ago, former bookseller, and book reviewer
Janet Zarem was hired by my son's elementary school to talk to parents about reading. She began by passing out a paragraph in and asking us what it said. Okay, so let's try it. I'd like you to read this paragraph and tell me what it says. You have two minutes:
 |
| *see bottom of this post for attribution* |
When we saw the paragraph, we were scared'r than a long-tail cat in a room full of rockin' chairs.**
Isn't that a powerful way to show someone the world from a new or challenged or reluctant reader's point of view?
3) That's how scared many of us feel about learning
anything new.
For example,
UCLA Extension's Writers' Program is in the process of changing how its instructors post course materials for our students. We are moving from a platform called Blackboard to one called Canvas.
When I saw the first email about this, I rolled into a little ball. I felt as outdated and useless as a screen door on a submarine.***
I see now that I went through
the five stages of loss and grief, finally arriving at
acceptance: Wow--it's done, it didn't take long, and I am truly invincible.
 |
| Tah-dah--I did it! |
RELUCTANT
by April Halprin WaylandNew? New?Who are you talking to?
You’ll have to leave a message—
I think I have the flu.It’s too bad that you saw meI stick with tried and true.If you want revolution,I’ll leave it up to you.Who? Me?You found me up this tree?Just cut that sheet in two?And paste it here with glue?That’s all we have to do?
I’m standing on my head, now:I see your point of view.poem & drawing (c) April Halprin Wayland 2014=====================
Don't forget to enter our latest book giveaway for a chance to win a copy of the
2015 Children's Writer's and Illustrator's Market (in which our very own Carmela Martino has an article!). See
Carmela's post for all the details.
The giveaway ends Oct 31.
Poetry Friday is at
Merely Day By Day ~ Thanks, Cathy!
poem & drawing (c) April Halprin Wayland 2014
posted by April Halprin Wayland, who thanks you in Greek for reading all the way to here.
*from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Odyssey**
from: http://charlottenewcomers.blogspot.com/2008/01/southern-expressions-uglier-than.html***from:
http://www.examiner.com/article/southern-isms-50-of-the-funniest-southern-expressions-and-colloquialisms
By: yesisedit,
on 10/17/2014
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What’s on my mind?
Indigenous peoples and their worry about being over run by other populations I guess could sum it up.
I suppose if cougars, wolves, elephants and such learned to shoot guns or band together better they would kick out the human populations who have transgressed on their land but as people go I believe we need to understand the reason for others unlawfully entering areas already overpopulated.
Overpopulation where they come from, economic despair, greed, the making of money into a God and the lust for power over others seem to be good places to start .
Seems to me that as people from a planet with finite resources we need to try to make all places a good place to live so people want to stay where they are. Make everywhere a good place to be.
Sharing with others does not have to mean give away my happiness but it could mean helping you gain yours. I hope I can do that with more than one other and if we all did it for just two other people it would cure the problem in my mind at least.
By: yesisedit,
on 9/12/2014
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When you are feeling all alone, if you just sing out loud you may be surprised how many others will join in with you …
By:
Carmela Martino and 5 other authors,
on 9/12/2014
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Howdy, Campers!
We have a brand new Book Giveaway for your very own autographed copy of a picture book biography (well, a real-life slice of life) of Golda Meir--just published! Details at the bottom of this post.
Happy
Poetry Friday!
Thank you,
Renee, of No Water River, for hosting today!
The link to Barbara Krasner's poem, "The Circle of Life,"
on a site which invites contributions of poetry and prose, is below ~
Today, we welcome author, teacher, blogger, historian, poet and conference organizer
Barbara Krasner into our cozy cabin for a cuppa java.
Barbara Krasner
I first met Barbara online, as she was single-handedly organizing the
Conference on Jewish Story, held this May in New York. She invited me to be on the children's panel; it was an adventure and an honor to participate.
Barbara’s interests, accomplishments and energies are unending. She began writing short stories when she should have been paying attention in SAT prep classes! She majored in German and spent her junior year in Germany. Then she spent 30 years in corporate America...but the writing bug never left her. (Can anyone relate?
Me, me!)
She's now the author of four nonfiction books, including
Discovering Your Jewish Ancestors, and more than 200 articles for adults and children that have appeared in
Highlights for Children,
Cobblestone,
Calliope, and
Babaganewz . Her short fiction and poetry have appeared in many publications and she was the semi-finalist in the 2013
Pablo Neruda Prize for Poetry.
Barbara publishes the popular blog,
The Whole Megillah ~
The Writer's Resource for Jewish Story, she's the recipient of the first-ever
Groner-Wikler Scholarship for dedication to Jewish children's literature, and is a member of the prestigious
Sydney Taylor Book Award Committee of the Association of Jewish Libraries.
Is Barbara a
TeachingAuthor? Most definitely! She earned her MFA in
Writing for Children and Young Adults from the Vermont College of Fine Arts, teaches children's literature and creative writing at
William Paterson University, and leads the
Highlights Foundation workshop, Writing Jewish-themed Children’s Books.
We’ve invited Barbara here today because her first book for children, illustrated by
Kelsey Garrity-Riley, titled
Goldie Takes a Stand! Golda Meir's First Crusade (Kar-Ben, 2014) just came out! (Kar-Ben, by the way, is the Jewish imprint of Lerner Publishing Group.)
.Mazel-tov, Barbara!
"Even at the age of nine, little Golda Meir
was known for being a leader. As the president of
the American Young Sisters Society, she organizes her friends
to raise money to buy textbooks for immigrant classmates.
It’s not easy, and when her initial plan doesn’t work,
she’s forced to dream even bigger to find a way to help her community. A glimpse at the early life of Israel’s first
female Prime Minister, this story is based on
a true episode in the early life of Golda Meir."
Welcome, Barbara! What's a common problem your students have and how do you address it?A common problem my students have is the fear of digging deep. To compensate, they produce redundant narrative that only skims the surface. I challenge them, as my mentors have challenged me, to take a deep breath and dive in.
Thank you--just reading that made me take a deep breath. Would you share a favorite writing exercise with our readers?I am a certified Amherst Writers & Artists workshop leader and I really believe in the power of writing to timed prompts. A classic prompt is to recall a photograph and begin your writing session with, "In this one..."
Another favorite is to write about something hanging on the wall in a room of your childhood family home.
I want to try those! What one piece of advice do you have for teachers?Look for the strength of each student and build on that.
 |
| Barbara Krasner ~ teaching, speaking, inspiring ~ |
What's on the horizon for you?I'm working on some Holocaust-related short stories and a couple of picture book biographies. In my master's program (
Barbara's currently a candidate for an MA in Applied Historical Studies), I am looking for ways to take my academic requirements and turn them into literary projects. A new
history book about my hometown of Kearny, New Jersey is an example of this. I am promoting my picture books this fall, such as my
"What Would Goldie Do?" program at Jewish community centers (JCCs) and synagogues. I also hope to be teaching
Writing Your Family History at my local JCC.
WOW, Barbara! And since it's Poetry Friday in the Kidlitosphere, do you have a poem you'd like to share with our readers?Here's a link to my poem,
The Circle of Life on The Jewish Writing Project site, which invites contributions of poems and more.
(Readers, this site is well worth exploring and includes, among other things, a terrific
page of questions and writing ideas for kids)
We'll close with a preview of Goldie Takes a Stand! (enter for a chance to win it below):
Thank you so much for coming by today, Barbara!
Book GiveawayEnter for a chance to win an autographed copy of Goldie Takes a Stand! This giveaway ends on September 26.Use the Rafflecopter widget below to enter via 1, 2, or all 3 options specified. If you choose the "comment" option, share a comment to today's blog post about your experience with writing or teaching historical fiction. And please include your name in your comment, if it's not obvious from your comment "identity." (If you prefer, you may submit your comment via email to: teachingauthors [at] gmail [dot] com.)If you've never entered a Rafflecopter giveaway, here's info on how to enter a Rafflecopter giveaway and the difference between signing in with Facebook vs. with an email address. Email subscribers: if you received this post via email, you can click on the Rafflecopter link at the end of this message to access the entry form.Good luck!a Rafflecopter giveaway
"Trust yourself. Create the kind of self that you will be happy to live with all your life. Make the most of yourself by fanning the tiny, inner sparks of possibility into flames of achievement." ~ Golda Meir
But
wait ~ there's more! Barbara's
Goldie Takes a Stand! will soon be followed by a Holocaust picture book,
Liesl's Ocean Rescue (Gihon River Press, Fall 2014).
posted by April Halprin Wayland
p.s: It's nearly New Year's and my picture book, New Year at the Pier (Dial), winner of the Sidney Taylor Book Award for Younger Readers, celebrates the ritual of Tashlich, a wonderful, seaside gathering during the Jewish New Year (which begins September 24th and ends September 26th this year.) 
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on 9/7/2014
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I was just thinking that it’s not the perfect flower I look for in my photography, it’s the perfect feeling, same with my friends, they all have little flaws just like me but when I close my eyes and think of them I only know the sweet essence of their perfection and see how wonderful life is to let me see them … Love you all !
By:
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on 8/22/2014
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Howdy, Campers and Happy Poetry Friday!
We
TeachingAuthors are discussing handwriting versus keyboard typing--read which
Carmela,
Laura, and
Esther prefer.
Me? I'm bi.
When I'm in a boring meeting (or even an interesting meeting), under the hair dryer at the beauty parlor, or the passenger on a long trip, I'm happy to write poems in my little notebooks with my
favorite pen.
.
But I became a writer as on one of these:
and my brain and fingers still adore keys.
So I wrote two poems today in honor of both:
TYPING
by April Halprin Wayland
It’s a sound idea—a muscular,a strong one.
It’s strapping, able-bodied oneit’s beefy—it’s a long one.
It’s a strapping noun,it’s her fingers plunked downwith a most decisive click.
It’s a piece of punctuationthat’s sealed—it sticks.
LONGHAND.by April Halprin Wayland
liquid longhand sometimes flowsor oozes slowit drains from a dream to its place on the page
where it will not linger no, the pen seeps deeperbeneath each linewhere longhand makes its own design
poems (c) 2014 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved.
And if you haven't already done so, don't forget to enter our current giveaway for a chance to win the historical middle-grade novel Odin's Promise (Crispin Press) by Sandy Brehl. See JoAnn's post for all the details.(We're supposed to sign our names at the bottom of each post...so hi, it's me--April Halprin Wayland! G'bye!)
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on 8/11/2014
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Post by Donna J. Shepherd, Writer, Speaker, Singer.
By:
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on 7/24/2014
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For Poetry Friday, I'm sharing a poem from a book coming out this fall from J. Patrick Lewis and George Ella Lyon. I just received an ARC of
Voices from the March on Washington (WordSong), and I've only read three of the poems. But they all knocked my socks off! I'll share more closer to the publication date, but here's a sneak peek to whet your appetite.
Last Impressions
black without white
is
a moonless
night
empty
as
a life
of endlessly
falling snow
is
white without black
--J. Patrick Lewis, all rights reserved
This lovely poem especially connected with me because I just wrote three poems about diversity for consideration for a friend's scholarly book on children's literature, and the one he chose uses blizzard/snow imagery as well!
And I love the way you can create many different complete thoughts that kind of overlap each other because of the line breaks. Gorgeous.
Here I am reading Pat's poem:
Sylvia Vardell and Janet Wong, creators of the amazing Poetry Friday Anthology books, are hosting the
Poetry Friday Roundup at Poetry for Children. Don't miss it!
Now on to what I've been reading. I've been working on attacking my to-read shelf this summer! I joined the Book-a-Day Challenge through Donalyn Miller and the Nerdy Book Club (
http://nerdybookclub.wordpress.com/2014/05/18/the-sixth-annual-book-a-day-challenge/). My goal is to average a book a day (surprise:>) And it's not too late! You pick your start and stop days, so if you have one month left of summer, go for it. Commit to reading a book a day, and share your books on your blog or Twitter (#bookaday). I post mine on Twitter--that accountability is great. Anyway, the thing I've learned most is that having a book-a-day really helps me get to a lot more picture books and poetry books--which are my favorite books, anyway. But they often get lost in the shuffle as I read research books or escape into mysteries. Below are the most recent 10 books I've finished. I have more in progress.
Looking over my list, I would say two other things I've learned are that I abandon books without guilt now (a major change from 10 years ago), and I want to read MORE picture books and poetry. Once book-a-day ends, I might have to come up with a picture book plan to keep me going!
P.S. Check that last book for the most finely-crafted nonfiction picture book I've read in months.
P.P.S. Those of you in the Los Angeles area who are aspiring picture book writers, check out Teaching Authors'
April Halprin Wayland's upcoming class, Writing Picture Books for Children. It's Wednesday nights from August 6 through September 10. It might be just right for you, so don't miss out :>)
Happy reading,
Laura
कभी और सही …. (कविता)
कुछ अल्फाजों को मन के पिंजरे से आजाद तो करना चाह्ती हूं
पर
डरती हूं
कोई इन्हे आहत न कर दे
या
पढ कर किसी के अश्रू न छ्लक जाए
या
चुरा कर कोई अपने ही पिंजरे मे कैद न कर ले
सोचती हूं
हर खुशी , गम , नाराजगी में बरसों से सहेजा है इनको
बहुत अजीज हो चुके हैं ये मेरे
बस
एक टक निहार कर कैद ही रहने दिया
और
रोक लिया आज भी इन्हे उडान भरने से
कभी खुद ब खुद ही ढलक जाए तो अलग बात है
वैसे
फिर कभी और सही ( मोनिका ग़ुप्ता)*
I have having so much fun at this rhyming stuff, I can't stop! Like Gloria Estefan says, "the rhythm is gonna get you!" It got me, all right!
I wrote a poem to enter the poetry contest that The Children's Book Academy is having. The theme is "Why Do Kids Love Poetry?"
Why Kids Love Poetry
by Lynn Alpert
Poems are pretty things to hear –
a sweet song from a wren.
They make me want to dance and sing,
and do it all again!
When I read a poem out loud,
I feel I’m in a trance.
It’s like my tongue and words
come out and do a little dance.
Clap and sing and read along,
it’s hard to not join in!
The rhyming party has begun –
try not to tap and grin!
Why do kids love rhyming texts?
I’ll speak for all us kids –
it’s fun to hear and say the sounds –
that’s it, that’s all there is!
.JPG)
I just read the beautiful book, Firefly July, full of super-short poems (I LOVE super-short poems) celebrating the seasons. Our own April Halprin Wayland is in there, and Joyce Sidman, and so many other fantastic poets.
Here's one of my favorites. I adore both cinquains and fall, so this poem really hits me every time! This is by Adelaide Crapsey, who invented the cinquain form of 2-4-6-8-2 syllables.
November Night
Listen...
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees
And fall.
--by Adelaide Crapsey, all rights reserved
It's Poetry Friday, and the very generous Jama Rattigan at Alphabet Soup has the Roundup today. Head on over and check out all the lovely poems!
We're talking about writing clippings here on Teaching Authors, so I will share a few of mine. I collect mostly two kinds of things: 1) bits of text from other books (usually fiction) that I think might make a cool jumping off point for my own poetry or picture books, and 2) articles I tear out of science magazines or bookmark that I think are good topics for assessment nonfiction or poetry passages.
Here are 3 random ones:
1) "serpentine spaghetti" - highlighted in a book I was reading on my Kindle. That has got to make it into a poem!
2) "We see their flights as perfect forward motion, but nothing could be further from the truth. In truth, every flap is followed by a tuck and a sweep, hasty and high stakes; hot on the heels of every flickering gain in altitude comes a small, heart-thudding drop." - a description of bird flight, also highlighted in a book on Kindle. I love this concept. No idea how I might use it in my writing, but I love it.
[I don't know what books the above came from. I just started saving highlighted quotes in a Word document a couple of months ago. I'm realizing that I need to also note what book they came from!]
3) http://discovermagazine.com/2012/oct/16-things-you-didnt-know-about-cars - Here's an article I read in Discover Magazine. Then I searched for it online and saved it as a bookmark, because my paper files are so overstuffed! I thought these nifty facts might spark a nonfiction passage for older readers.
Happy reading, writing, and clipping!
--Laura Purdie Salas
P.S. I'm in New Orleans for IRA and beignets! So I likely won't be able to respond to comments for about a week. But I'd love to hear from you:>)
P.S.S: From Carmela: If you haven't entered our current giveaway yet, don't forget to check out Jill Esbaum's post about her most recent publication, Angry Birds Playground: Rain Forest (National Geographic Books), and enter for a chance to win your own autographed copy.
Hi Everyone,
This month, we've been having a great time celebrating our BlogiVERSEary by sharing audio and video clips of the TeachingAuthors reciting some of our favorite poems. If you missed any of them, here are the links one more time, in the order posted:
Our actual blogiversary is tomorrow,
April 22. Believe it or not, we've been posting for
FIVE years!
Our blogiversary giveaway runs through
Wednesday, April 23, so if you haven't entered yet, be sure to do so
on this blog post. And while our blogiversary celebration is coming to a close, the Poetry Month fun continues with JoAnn's weekly poetry-themed
Wednesday Writing Workouts. JoAnn is also giving away copies of her terrific book,
Write a Poem Step by Step on her blog.
Before publishing my last blog post, I double-checked with April regarding the formatting of her poem "How to Read a Poem Aloud," which I was sharing in my post. I was surprised to learn that she'd revised the poem since its first publication. Unfortunately, the news came after I'd already uploaded my recording of the original poem to
SoundCloud and I didn't have time to re-record it before the post went live. I realized later that today's post was a great opportunity to share that revised version with you. I uploaded a new recording (email subscribers can
listen to it here) and I copied the latest version of the poem below. If you want to compare the two, you can
go back to my last post.
I'm hoping April will share with us her revision process, because, to be honest, I loved the poem the way it was. Of course, I like this version, too.
J
How to Read a Poem Aloud (Revised Version) by April Halprin Wayland
To begin, tell the poet’s name and the title to your friend.
Savor every word— let each line shine. Then— read it one more time.
Now, take a breath— and sigh.
Then think about the poet, at her desk, late at night, picking up her pen to write—
and why. © April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved.
Happy writing!
Carmela
By:
Carmela Martino and 5 other authors,
on 4/14/2014
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Hip (to the 5th power) Hooray!It’s our Blogiversary!!!!!Our TeachingAuthors group blog has been teaching authors since April of 2009!To celebrate the occasion, we’re celebrating you! Enter our Raffle drawing to win one of FIVE Blogiversary Book Bundles – each bundle a set of five books hand-selected by a TeachingAuthor that includes at least one autographed TeachingAuthor book. Check the end of this post for details.
But wait!
It’s also our Blogi-VERSE-ary, so smartly re-named by our reader Mary Lee of A Year of Reading, because we six TeachingAuthors chose to celebrate the occasion by reciting our favorite poem in honor of Poetry Month.Poetry Foundation President Robert Polito shared in his project description that “a favorite poem can be a talisman or mantra, a clue, landmark or guiding star and dwells deep down in our psyches.”
Thank you for your interest in the Favorite Poem Project: Chicago. Check this page regularly to view the six videos in the series which will be release twice each week starting on Monday, April 14.Hana Bajramovic
"The Order of Key West" by Wallace StevensNaomi Beckwith
"The Children of the Poor" by Gwendolyn BrooksMayor Rahm Emanuel
"Chicago" by Carl SandburgThank you for your interest in the Favorite Poem Project: Chicago. Check this page regularly to view the six videos in the series which will be release twice each week starting on Monday, April 14.Hana Bajramovic
"The Order of Key West" by Wallace StevensNaomi Beckwith
"The Children of the Poor" by Gwendolyn BrooksMayor Rahm Emanuel
"Chicago" by Carl FYI: the Poetry Foundation, located in beautiful downtown Chicago, is an amazing resource – for writers and readers, for teachers, of course, but really-and-truly, for anyone human.
To plan a (highly-recommended) visit, click here. To explore the children’s poetry resources, click here. Students can find recitation tips and look for poems here. Teachers can learn all about Poetry Out Loud in the classroom by clicking here.So you’re never without a poem nearby, click here to download the Poetry App. The poem I chose to recite via SoundCloud (and – fingers-crossed – successfully uploaded to today’s post so you can hear it) is Robert Louis Stevenson’s MY SHADOW. The poem dwells deep, deep, deep in my psyche, placed there by my mean-spirited third grade teacher Miss Atmore at Philadelphia’s Overbrook Elementary. (Think every gruesome teacher Raoul Dahl created, to the max (!), down to the spit that sprayed the air when she’d lean in close to admonish a mistake.)
In between Halloween and Thanksgiving of that third grade year, each of us was to choose, memorize and then recite before the class eight lines of a poem. I instantly knew the poem I’d choose. I treasured my copy of A CHILD’S GARDEN OFVERSES. How could I not choose my favorite poem, My Shadow? I loved the poem’s sing-song rhythms; I loved its playfulness. I even recall jumping rope while I recited the poem, practicing, practicing, practicing. I so wanted to get it right. Standing before my classmates in the front of my classroom, beside Miss Atmore seated dispassionately at her desk, demanded Courage and Moxie, both of which I lacked. 
"My poem is My Shadow,” I bravely began, and Miss Atmore stopped me, cold, mid-sentence.The rhythm of the lines ran away (probably scared); I mispronounced "India" as "Indian." All I could do was stare at the two shiny pennies that adorned my new brown loafers.
But that failed recitation serves as a landmark. Thanks to Miss Atmore, I knew then and there that when – I – grew up to be a teacher someday, everything that Miss Atmore was, I would spend my lifetime making sure I wasn't. (IIllustration by Ted Rand)
Ironically, when I was first trying my hand at writing for children, I wrote a poem entitled “P-O-E-M is a Two-syllable Word.” In time the title became a line in the first poem I ever sold, to Ebony Jr. magazine. I’ve searched high-and-low for my copy so I might share the poem, but alas, no luck. Even today, I can’t speak the word “poem” without enunciating clearly its two two-letter syllables. My Shadow by Robert Louis Stevenson
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head.And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow –
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,And he sometimes goes so little that there’s none of him at all.He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.He stays so close behind me, he’s a coward you can see;I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.
[Note: If you're receiving this post via email, here's the link to the Sound Cloud reading of Robert Louis Stevenson's My Shadow by Esther Hershenhorn ]
* * * * * * * *
I offer at least five bundles of thanks to you, our readers, for embracing our blog, and to my fellow TeachingAuthors too – Jill Esbaum, JoAnn Early Macken, Carmela Martino, Laura Purdie Salas, April Halprin Wayland and currently in absentia but always in my heart, Mary Ann Rodman and Jeanne Marie Grunwell Ford, for embracing me.I did indeed find that long-ago missing Moxie and each of you makes sure I maximize it bi-monthly.
Here’s to a month of poetic celebrations!
Oh, and don’t forget to enter our BlogiversaryRaffle to win one of FIVE Blogiversary Book Bundles. Good Luck!
Esther Hershenhorn
By:
Carmela Martino and 5 other authors,
on 4/7/2014
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A HUGE thank you to Mary Lee, who blogs at A Year of Reading, for coining the word "blogiVERSEary" when she commented on April's post announcing our celebration and giveaway.
BlogiVERSEary is the perfect word to describe our theme this year. (Wish I'd thought of it when I created our Fifth Blogiversary logo!) Since our blog's anniversary falls during National Poetry Month, we thought it would be fitting for each of us to share a favorite poem, à la this year's Chicago Poetry Foundation's edition of the Favorite Poem Project. Esther is the one who brought the Favorite Poem Project to our attention, so I'll let her talk more about it when she posts. Meanwhile, if you're a teacher or parent, you may want to go ahead and check out their poetry lesson plans and other resources (after you're finished reading here, of course!).
To make our
blogiVERSEary posts extra special, some (perhaps all) of the
TeachingAuthors will share their favorite poems not only in printed form, but also via an audio or video reading. It's an opportunity for those of you we've never met to at least hear our voices. Creating an online audio or video clip is new territory for me. Unfortunately, I don't have a video camera, so I'll be sharing an audio reading,
as April did.
I created a new account with
SoundCloud, just for that purpose, per
these instructions from the Poetry Foundation. After a couple of tense days when I couldn't get my account validated, I was finally able to upload the sound clip. If you are reading this post via email, you can go online to
listen to the clip here. If you missed hearing April's reading of her favorite,
give a listen to her Friday post. And while you're there, be sure to enter our blogiversary giveaway to win one of our
FIVE "blogiversary book bundles," if you haven't already done so.
It took me some time to decide on just which "favorite poem" I wanted to share. The first poems I thought of were classics by
Robert Frost and
Emily Dickinson. But I really wanted to share something a bit more child-friendly. So I went over to check out Greg Pincus's annual
30 Poets/30 Days project. Poking around on the site, I discovered the perfect poem for our
blogiVERSEary: "How to Read a Poem Aloud." It happens to be written by our very own April Halprin Wayland! Greg originally posted it in his
2009 edition of 30 Poets/30 Days, on April 28, 2009, just days after our
TeachingAuthors blog debuted. And now, with April's permission, I'm sharing it here, as one of my favorite poems. You can also hear me read it below.
How to Read a Poem Aloud by April Halprin Wayland
First, read the title of the poem and the poet’s name.
Be clear.
Now completely disappear.
Let each line shine.
Then read it one more time.
When the poem ends, sigh.
Think about the poet at her desk, late at night, picking up her pen to write--
and why. © April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved.
Now isn't that just the
perfect poem for our
blogiVERSEary?
Happy Poetry Month, and Happy Writing!
Carmela
April Fool
They say don’t write your book in rhyme,
but I still do it all the time.
I don’t set out to do it –
The editors will boo-hoo it!
I guess I’m just a foolish fool
who thinks that’s such a ghoulish rule!
If I can make a kid laugh –
with a rhyming paragraph –
Then a fool, I guess, I’ll be
along with Seuss, and company!
-->
Ma, where will we be for Christmas this year?
In the Salt Lake Valley.
Will we get there before Christmas?
I hope so, little one.
But isn’t it Christmas right now?
No, dear, not yet.
But there is so much snow.
I know. Come along.
My feet hurt.
Let me see. I have a little flour sack. Let me wrap them.
I’m hungry too.
We all are. I have a little leather left. Chew it as we walk.
Will Pa be home for Christmas?
No, love, he can’t be with us anymore.
Where is he?
We had to leave him with the others.
Will the wolves hurt him?
We covered him good with sage brush.
Will we see him again, Ma?
Yes.
Will he miss us?
I think he will be sad to not be with us. Do you know who was born on Christmas?
Jesus?
Yes. And His Mother and Father loved Him very much.
Did He grow big like me?
Yes, He did. And one day Jesus had to leave His family even when He didn’t want to leave.
Just like Pa.
Yes, and Pa is with Jesus in Heaven.
Pa gets to spend Christmas with Jesus?
He does.
He gets to have the best Christmas.
I think you’re right.
I still wish Pa was with us, pulling me in the handcart.
Do you want to get in the handcart now?
May I? The rocks are hurting my feet.
Let me put you in with sister.
Sister is so cold, Ma.
Wrap your arms around her and hold her close.
Will she spend Christmas with Jesus, too?
I would miss her terribly if she did, dear.
Can you hear the singing?
It must be the other Saints singing.
I can’t see no other handcarts. Didn’t angels sing when Jesus was born?
Yes.
I think the angels are singing for us tonight so we are not alone.
I believe you are right, little one.
.
Howdy Campers and Happy Poetry Friday!
Perhaps my ritual is Doing Everything But Write First (which can be incredibly productive or incredibly fattening.)
I actually call it Circling the Chair Time:
PROCRASTINATION
by April Halprin Wayland
Ancient dog
circled in the grass
round and round
to tamp it down
I am dog
circling, too
round and round
as all dogs do
round my homework,
round my desk
finally, working
then I rest.
published in Cricket Magazine
poem and drawing (c) 2014 April Halprin Wayland all rights reserved
BTW, the above is a mask poem--written from the point of view of something that doesn't speak.
What's your ritual? Monkey wants to know.
Yep, the images are small--but that's to entice you...check it out! posted by April Halprin Wayland with help from Monkey and Eli.
By:
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The Illustration Friday word of the week is “voice.” So I decided to redraw yet another oldie. I better get off my duff and come up with some new ideas I suppose, eh?
By: yesisedit,
on 2/4/2014
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I would like to think that I could come up with some Geo-Terra-forming-hyper-thoughts but can only come up with the belief that I am correct to feel immortal and know that even after I go to the next eternity, that itself will end, and “I” become some horrific to these “Now ” eyes, some specimen of thing unknowable to this consciousness, yet another “thing” that feels correct to it’s nature and has no thought of being not correct, that after an eternity of these formations and resurrections and deaths I will sink into the opposite sludge of nonexistence but after a time, that is not time, will again float to the surface *POP* out and start all over again.
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Darling!
This is great one. Love the audience reaction.
I always enjoy seeing your illustrations, Linda.
Thanks, Lorlinda!
Thanks Madre!
Aww, how sweet of you to say! Thanks, Kathy!