Our Host
Donnetta Norris is a 2nd grade teacher in Arlington, TX. She has facilitated workshops and hosts weekly Time To Write writing sessions with TeachWrite, LLC. She is also a guest blogger with Teach Better Team. You can read much of her writing on TeacherReaderWriter, and Writing Is A Journey. She is a published poet in Teacher-Poets Writing to Bridge the Distance: An Oral History of COVID-19 in Poems by Dr. Sarah J. Donovan. Follow her on Twitter at @NorrisDonnetta.
Inspiration
First, let me say, it is not my birthday! On April 12, 2023, Anna J. Small Roseboro encouraged us to write poetry using lines or phrases “extracted/quoted” from a poet who shares our same birth month (https://www.ethicalela.com/a-poet-like-me/). It was a thrill to discover that Margaret Danner and I share the same birthday, January 12. It was my pleasure to honor a small piece of her work in my poem. https://www.ethicalela.com/a-poet-like-me/#comment-7195
Process
Today, let’s honor you and the month in which you were born. Search for poetry written about your birth month. I found these poems when I searched “ January Poetry”. Choose a poem to imitate or write beside. Borrow lines for a Golden Shovel. Write an Ode to your birth month. The options are endless, which is the beauty within poetry and within each of us. I’m excited to read how each month is represented.
Donnetta’s Poem
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
Hi Donnetta,
Sorry to post late today but our staff meeting went way too long.
I appreciate that you’ve revisited the birthday poetry because my big 60 is a few weeks away🥳. The link to read more poems related to November really surprised me. The majority of the November poems were dreary and focused on loss, cold, and dryness. I feel NONE of that during my birth month. I read every poem for November and the last one was by Paul Laurence Dunbar (Nutting Song) and it gave me JOY! I borrowed lines from the last stanza and added my own lines in between. Hopefully, he forgives me.
Sweet November
With a happy song of praise
I walk the path of cooler days
for the golden sunlight blessing
for peaceful nature’s confessing
its gratitude for all that’s giving
and the precious boon of living
oh, show me your tender ways
in the sweet November days
Stacey L. Joy, 10/24/23
Thank you, Donnetta! I love your poem and would appreciate a year of Januarys!
Stacey, your tribute to our birthday month is perfectly joyful and I love the rhyming words. Yes November has extremely sweet days and I’ve felt that way forever. Enjoy the countdown to our 60th. 🎂
🥰Love you, Sis!
I have been counting your days in the 50s with you on the Facebook and feel like you are welcoming us on the “path” and the “golden sunlight blessing” and the “tender ways” that can make temporal shifts sweeter. Love this.
Stacey, this is Sweet November. The lyrical rhyming and rhythm is just beautiful.
Love the rhyme and the unexpected phrase ‘boon of living’. Your rhyme and rhythm just add to the beauty of the words.
Stacey, I’m sure Paul Lawrence Dunbar would absolutely forgive you for composing a beautiful poem by intwining his words with yours!
what an uplifting poem!! I feel November’s breeze!!! Nice work
Donnetta, this took me longer to get to (much too busy on school days), but I didn’t want the day to pass without honoring your prompt with at least a try. I love this idea as another way of extending identity poems which my students love to explore. Thank you. My piece sits alongside July by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts.
July
I am for endless fields,
Endless fields of starry sea,
Where cornflowers peek between grasses,
And forget-me-nots remember me.
*Original:
I am for the open meadows,
Open meadows full of sun,
Where the hot bee hugs the clover,
The hot breezes drop and run.
Thank you Jennifer for showing up. I understand being busy.
Jennifer, I’m so glad you showed up on your busy school day! What a sweet poem in the style of Sir Charles. Your poem is so full of whimsy and summer joy. That line of forget-me-nots remembering you is priceless.
Jennifer,
No matter how busy you are, you always deliver gold!
Love that!
Jennifer, I was reading these poems side-by-side and kept thinking, which one is Jennifer’s? The speakers’ voice carries through both with such strong place-based images. That repetition of the phrase in line one starting line two is a lovely echo that has me wondering of endless things I am for, too.
Donetta,
Sorry I’m getting to this so late.Thank you for your prompt. Love your poem. Your last stanza had me smiling. The cold weather of January definitely has advantages. What a great month for a birthday.
Mentor Poem
March by John Updike
—A Child’s Calendar, First Edition (1965)
The sun is nervous
As a kite
That can’t quite keep
Its own string tight.
Some days are fair,
And some are raw.
The timid earth
Decides to thaw.
Shy budlets peep
From twigs on trees,
And robins join
The chickadees.
Pale crocuses
Poke through the ground
Like roses come
To sniff around.
The mud smells happy
On our shoes.
We still wear mittens,
Which we lose.
March Poem by Tammi Belko
The sun is nervous
as a mouse
scurrying away from
a kitten’s house
Some days are fair
with sky so blue
still winds blow in
to Spring’s chagrin
Daylight lingers a little longer
kisses of sun stroke your cheek
Daffodils unfurl
From the Earth, tulips will peek
As Earth tilts to sun
promise of spring
keeps us hopeful
stirs the heart to sing
Tammi, this poem just sung today. I felt the lift and lilt of each stanza and each line as the rhyme unfolded (much like your daffodils). Spring is my favorite time of year, for many of the reasons you mention – I love the reawakening, and your poem does that for me too.
I am feeling the rhyme and rhythm from Wendy’s Luc Bat prompt here with the quatrains rhyme scheme today. The image of kisses of sun stroke is lovely and tender, and the tulips peek is sweet mischief I think. That final stance of tilt, promise, and stir leads nicely to sing.
Great challenge, Donnetta!
My birth month is May, as was poet Linda Pastan’s. Her March, April, May sequence from The Months was my inspiration.
March
when sun returns
ice begins to pop and crack
releasing layer upon layer of crystals
collected, connected, coupled
then releasing winter’s grip
riparian revival
iceberg shifting, changing
as late winter days wear on
until equinox arrives
astronomical signals of change to come
to earth for rebirth
but not just yet
April
mercury’s rise begins
drip, drip, drip
gaps form
making room
back to life
vernal pool’s reign resumes
residents return from
woodland winter lairs
the time has come
cacophony resounds
croak, croak, croak
peep, peep, peep
May
fairy shrimp, wood frogs
spring peepers, yellow spotted salamanders
breeding has begun
jellied eggs filled with life
attached to twigs
engineers, indeed
superb floatation
but not too close to shore
the food chain waits
and watches
buffet’s open
all are welcome here
— Christie Wyman, 10/24/23 (draft)
I love when I come across a new word – and riparian is a beauty! I can heard winter’s release in the hard cracking of the first stanza, followed by the soothing sounds in the second. It reminds me of Frost’s Birches! And cacophony is one of my favorite words 🙂
Christie, I’m with Jennifer here: I love all of the sounds that you’ve crafted! The rhyme and rhythm you’ve created with your alliteration — “collected, connected, coupled” to “vernal pool’s reign resumes / residents return from / woodland winter lairs” — helps carry the reader along. Thank you for writing and sharing with us!
So fun, this invitation from and of beings of time and place “jellied eggs filled with life”. The buffet is a perfect word/image that inserts the human into a space we maybe should not be so welcomed. Love this argument that emerged from your poem. That “watches” adds an unexpected tone.
What a fascinating prompt! Who knew there were so many ‘month’ poems out there? I went down a bit of a rabbit hole reading December poems. I’m amazed at how bleak most ‘December’ poems are. I rather like the month!!
How could I resist John Keats? In drear nighted December
December listens
In drear nighted December
So at peace, so at peace, me
I like to sit and remember
at the window by bare trees
Burrowed is the world
I follow its gentle cue
Let my thoughts unfurl
a repose long overdue
Maureen,
December is for reflection. I see a ribbon of “thoughts unfurl” in your poem and am a kindred spirit in my desire to sit by the window and look out at the barren world. It is a peaceful, comforting image.
Maureen, how sweet that you used Keats’ form to craft this beauty. I love the title. I appreciate the week of “repose long overdue” that ends the month of December.
Maureen, you have placed me into the quietude of December. While I embrace the world at rest (and enjoy remembering at the window), it’s the cold that I don’t appreciate. Burrowed is the world is the perfect phrase to describe what I want to do too. Your words are lyrical – almost magical in their invoking spirit of December. I enjoyed reading this again and again.
Maureen, I am in awe at the beauty and serenity your poem brings. I never think about what December really is because I’m so caught up in holidays and time off from school. Now, I think your poem will help me to really dig into peace and gentleness.
I am ready! Thank you, Maureen!
Donnetta, this was such a fun prompt! I haven’t written a Golden Shovel in a minute, and it reminded me how much I love them. The structure just works magic. Your ruminations on January convinced me that it might be nice to have a month of them: so many benefits!
Truth be told, I am NOT a fan of my birth month, February. The main reason is it is the dead of winter here in central NY, and I don’t use that term loosely. It’s freezing, snowy, and dark and brings out the worst of any seasonal-related blues that I may have. So, here is my February lament, based on a poem by abolitionist, Thomas Wentworth Higginson — clearly a man of many talents:
Snow o’er the darkening moorlands,
Flakes fill the quiet air;
Drifts in the forest hollows,
And a soft mask everywhere.
The nearest twig on the pine-tree
Looks blue through the whitening sky,
And the clinging beech-leaves rustle
Though never a wind goes by.
But there’s red on the wildrose berries,
And red in the lovely glow
On the cheeks of the child beside me,
That once were pale, like snow.
–Higginson
“February Lament”
Stuck, I watch the yard fill with snow –
and fold the clothes o’er and o’er –
Each morning demands the
same routine, darkening
my mood like moorlands’
skies filling with flakes;
But the thrill of a trill can fill
my heavy heart as the
cardinal, quiet
as air,
lights on a limb, song drifts
through stillness and in
to my kitchen, recalling the
coming of summer, soon, forest
and green space, filling the frozen hollows
of my heart.
I love that the word ‘o’er’ is in your golden shovel line, and I love how you repeated it here – “fold the clothes o’er and o’er ” – accentuating the monotony of this chore. “my mood like moorlands’ ” – wow, that really is powerful, I think. Yes, we are begging for green and new growth by February!
Oh, Wendy. I know this time and being, and I am always so perplexed by that bright red cardinal appeared in the snowy scene. Don’t they feel cold. Why do they stay in winter? And why do we stay? I want to be a snowbird. Yet “skies filling with flakes” and “song drifts” are rather beautiful—at least in tour poem them are.
Thank you for the prompt. I enjoyed reading poems about my birthday month- September. I chose to do a Golden Shovel poem with the line “ Summer walks a queen no more” from September by Ellen P. Allerton.
September
A coup to topple summer
in royal rubies, golds September walks
rising in full glory, a new queen
flanked by by apples, pumpkins, squashes, no
daintiness but elegant strength offering the world more.
Here is the poem I took the line from:
September
‘Tis autumn in our northern land.
The summer walks a queen no more;
Her sceptre drops from out her hand;
Her strength is spent, her passion o’er.
On lake and stream, on field and town,
The placid sun smiles calmly down.
I loves this poem Cathy. Thank you for sharing it with us.
Cathy,
I love September. It always feels fresh and new. “flanked by apples, pumpkins, squashes” is a glorious image of my favorite fall bounty. We still have a zucchini producing here in Idaho.
Oh, Cathy, I love that “elegant strength” of September. All that delicious fall produce certainly does offer the world more. Allerton’s poem is gorgeous too.
Your sweet poem makes the many wonderful colors and harvests of September come alive.
Oh, I love this summer walks a queen no more”. I am thinking about this in a number of ways. Wow.
In 1981 Rita Dove published “November for Beginners.” I took my last line from that poem. I’m rarely home for my birthday and don’t really celebrate it anyway. Never have. I also find the Thanksgiving narrative cringey, and after having covid in 2020, I can’t eat turkey, so my poem isn’t really a celebratory one but more of a reality check. I’ll turn 65 this year, and on Nov 1 my geezer insurance kicks in. That has me jumping for joy. Anywho, thanks for the inspiration, Donnetta. Your poem is fun. I’m all for a 31 day break in January. The photo is of a gorgeous sunrise I saw driving to work this morning.
and i like november
and i like this month
near year’s end mark
days & await the calendar
flip to a new beginning
short days this month
contrived for colonial
constructs, mythologies
carved on unreliable memories
life like november moves
toward its denouement
awaiting the turning
turning turning clock
ticking toward the ringing bell
in a light that is already leaving
—Glenda Funk
October 24, 2023
Good grief. The photo disappeared from the poem. 😑
this phrase moved me
life like november moves
The repetition of “the turning turning turning clock” is so powerful.
“life like november moves
toward its denouement ” This is so powerful! Love these two lines so much. The placement of the borrowed line as the last line in your new poem is really fantastic.
Love this poem, Glenda. I have come to especially appreciate poems and sentences that begin with “and.” Maybe it is my aversion to teacher who demanded otherwise or maybe it is because the writer welcome us right into a coupling. “flip to a new beginning” –yes and…”contrived for colonial constructs”—oh, yeah. That is it. Aren’t we as a nation ticking toward the ringing bell. This is so good.
November – by Annette Wynne-Mentor Text No matter how hard you try,
Old crying wind, you cannot make us cry,
You make the poor leaves sorry—very,
But we shall keep on being merry;
Not all the months behave like you,
Blowing mean, and blowing cold,
Hurting ragged folks and old,
A time for all to laugh and play;
But after all, you bring Thanksgiving Day
I thought I’d try a Golden Shovel
My November Poem
Wait all year, be patient I try
At others’ parties in the summer, I try not to cry
I’m impatient, attending classmates parties, very
By October, I begin to feel merry
I look ahead and try to see you
The weather is cooler and outside feels cold
Wearing a turtleneck often makes me feel old
November finally arrives and I only want to play
At times, my special day is right before Thanksgiving Day
By Seana Hurd Wright
Seana,
Love the golden shovel you craft. I think our poems today are in conversation in the birthday memories theme, and then the second stanza is so vivid. That turtleneck image resonates with cozy and old, but I like turtlenecks and think people look great in them.
Sarah
Seana,
I love how your poem moves from classmate’s summer parties to beginning to feel merry in October to your special day before Thanksgiving!
Seana,
As one month 11 to another, I too feel the pull of waiting. I tried to write a golden shovel but had three false starts! I think end of year children get shortchanged because of holidays. Anyway, good job for our month.
Seanna,
Love this line, “Wearing a turtleneck often makes me feel old.”
I am a turtleneck wearing old person too, but I hate being cold. My son’s birthday is in November as well. We often celebrate with the family on Thanksgiving and candles on pumpkin pie!
An August Ramble
By Mo Daley 10/24/23
Some may lament August’s arrival, but
I live in the now.
I love a day that dawns with heat, a
day that starts slowly and then jumps to joy.
August brings sensuous summer chills, too,
but most of all, I love the deep
sense of appreciation she gives me for
the calm, the tranquility, the sound
of summer coming to a
timely close. Peace
surrounds me as I venture, no—
adventure into the woods, hoping other
explorers have stayed inside, leaving my season
for me alone, as one who augustly knows.
I used William Cullen Bryant’s “A Summer Ramble” as inspiration for this Golden Shovel.
“But now a joy too deep/ for sound a peace no other season knows”
Mo, Golden shovels are my FAVES!!! I love the use of descriptive language and how you want August all to yourself.
Oh, what a lovely sentiment in these temporal poems. Live in the now! Yes. Still, we can love a day that “dawns in the heat”. I love the final phrase “augustly knows.”
Sarah
Mo,
“I love a day that dawns with heat” too. Beautiful imagery in your poem. And I love the “she” of August, and your use of the regal word “augustly.”
Mo,
Love these beautiful lines —“I love a day that dawns with heat, a/day that starts slowly and then jumps to joy.” I’ve been trying to be mindful and live in the moment as much as possible these days. too. Love the peacefulness your poem exudes.
Disyayed
Barefoot, Cauliflower, Plucking Chicken,
Devil in the eggs, Chocolate bunny bitten!
Hoppin’ down to tell a tale,
Stewed rice mixed in pagan’s hell.
Trick um’ all in the spring,
Rosemary hope with a strawberry ring.
Praise yo’ Momma on the twelfth,
Planting seeds till there’s none left!
Green, yellow, and white flashes,
Frog chirping wearing mosquito sashes!
Whippoorwill’s echoing summer rains,
Squashing cucumbers -chewing sugarcane.
Green of green of the eleven
Increasing life for life in heaven.
Envy emerald days
Wishful of a butterfly’s Craze,
Moms, rabbits, eggs, and days of the dead,
Water bugs, hopscotch, Crabapple red!
All of these as you May,
17 long until my special Day.
Ugh. I thought I posted a comment earlier, but I don’t see it now. Anyway, the images in your poem made me feel like I was down South. I’m not sure where to look first. I found your images enthralling and whimsical.
Clayton,
The sense of place in your poems is always so lovely and vivid. The first couple lines in particular situate me surrounded by post-Easter’s turn to May and those “emerald days.” Mine is the 21st. Look at that.
Sarah
Thank you for the list and descriptions of all things associated with May. This was a great way to pay homage to your birth month and keep the reader guessing just a bit.
Boxer,
I absolutely, love the rhythm and rhyme and the many vivid images — “Frog chirping wearing mosquito sashes!,Whippoorwill’s echoing summer rains.” Such a fun poem!
No More Birthday Parties
May you come to my day with sun
so that I may feel warmth on my skin
stretch my legs in shorts, resist
grimaces of hand-be-down floods.
May there be no wet ankles today
puddling the minutes I can claim
my own till they tick away to another’s.
May a friend accept her penciled
invitation maybe bring a gift for me, too
and may a sibling sing this song
with something like love in my name’s note.
May the rain stay away, today,
for without the sun, my party will be
canceled, and ten will taint the rest.
Another May birthday! I love the sensuous lines of “feel the warmth on my skin, stretch” “wet ankles…puddling.” May the sun shine!
Sarah, you used “May” as a month and as a modal verb expressing possibilities. It is an attractive idea to invite possibilities in your life whether it is sun, warmth, gifts from the loved ones or absence of negative occurrences. My favorite lines today: “May there be no wet ankles / puddling the minutes I can claim.” Beautiful!
”resist grimaces of hand-me-down floods”- oh what a feeling this brought forth again. I hated my hand-me-down pants that were always too short. I’m sure I grimaced often.
May you, May I feel warmth, May there be no wet ankles, May a friend accept, may a sibling sing this song with love, May the rain stay away. Oh, my heart. Your poem is like a child’s prayer.
Thank you for hearing it, Denise.
Sara,
Love the wistful tone of these lines: “May the rain stay away, today,/for without the sun, my party will be/canceled, and ten will taint the rest.” My youngest has an early May birthday and the weather is always hit or miss. When she was younger, she also would long for the sun on her birthday!
This was tough.
Even the “Help me write” AI
assistant, named Bard,
in Google Docs thought
it wasn’t such a hot idea.
When prompted to
help me write a poem
about October, it said,
No thanks.
And I took that to mean
there have been so many
other – honest-to-goodness,
totally legit – poets who
have already done it.
Do we need another?
I mean, we’ve got Mary
Oliver, Louise Glück,
Robert Frost, Christina
Rossetti, John Clare,
Dylan Thomas, Sylvia
Plath, look, lest you think
those three-named poets
are underrepresented, we
have Helen Hunt Jackson,
Paul Laurence Dunbar,
Thomas Bailey Aldrich,
and William Cullen Bryant,
too.
I’m just saying
this is well-worn
ground, and I’m not
sure I have anything
to add, like, I guess,
I could mention that
Spooky Season for me
is the pop up of a Spirit
Halloween in some
empty storefront in
town or the fact that
this is our favorite time of
year and our favorite
holiday so we end up
watching a scary movie
every night of the month
like clockwork or some
Samhain ritual, and our
Halloween decorations
aren’t really “decorations”
they’re just considered
decor because they’re up
all year long, look, I
could say that there are
some mornings when I
walk outside and it is
beautiful, gorgeous,
and cold as hell,
breathtaking really,
except that I can see my
exhalations, a reminder
that I am alive, I am here,
I am now, and my heart
is pumping and my lungs
are working, and I better
button up this coat,
ok, let me be honest with you,
I’m not going to say
that every morning of
October is a picture
perfect haiku,
they’re not,
some days
they’re sonnets,
October is not a month,
you understand,
but a state of mind,
not a season, but
a feeling, you know?
But, again, that’s like,
ok, so what?
I mean, have you read,
Mary Oliver’s
“October” poem?
It has a bear in it, for
Christ’s sake, a bear,
and also some words
of wisdom that are pretty
great, too,
and, seriously, I’m not
kidding about
the bear.
You should have
totally read that
poem instead
of this one.
Sorry.
________________________________________
Thank you, Donnetta for your mentor poem and prompt today and the chance to explore a bunch of October poems that I hadn’t read before (including the Mary Oliver one that has the wonderful lines “Look, I want to love this world / as though it’s the last chance I’m ever going to get / to be alive / and know it”). I loved the turn your own poem made by the end – from “I’m not sure I’d like it here” to wait a minute, we’d still be on break at the start of the month, on second thought, “A year of Januarys might be great.” Lol.
Oh, Scott, I love this. And happy birthday ALL MONTH! You help us get to know you through your sarcasm and wit–like the details of the scary movies every night, seeing your breath on a cold day, and your year-round Halloween decor. My favorite though is
Hooray for you!
Scott, you are so right on (or should I say AI is right on?) in that there are already so many great October poems by articulate poets. Love you for loving Halloween so much. So do I!
Hi, Scott! You took me for an enjoyable ride through all the poets who wrote about October, and all the things you could add. My favorite stanza today is:
“October is not a month,
you understand,
but a state of mind,
not a season, but
a feeling, you know?”
It made me pause and think that, for most of us, our birth month is not just a month of the season, but a reflection point that marks changes and growth each time we make a full circle. Thank you for your poem, and I am off to reading Mary Oliver’s with that “famous” bear ))
Scott, thank you so much for your sense of humor. There are many great poems and poets out there…including you. I am not at all sorry I ready your poem.
The list of poets who have written about October was a wonderful inclusion. It showed the draw of this month to many writers who saw it more than a season as you said.
Scott, I like the way you think. Time and again, your take on these prompts veers off and I’m happy to follow along to experience the destination.
Happy Birthday, Scott!
Love the light-hearted tone and playful remarks, especially loved these lines —
“Halloween decorations/aren’t really “decorations”/they’re just considered/decor because they’re up/all year long” — as I can relate. Putting decorations up is fun. Taking them down, not so much.
Take a Look!
Time for a surprise, for the
calendar has yet to turn round
and this orb, full-cheeked,
is shining again–blue moon
they call it. Super moon floats
above the mountain, lighting high
and low across the sand, just in
time for popcorn on the
porch and the glowing
cozy comfort of this August
evening, falling up into the sky
————————
Oh, Donnetta, what a fun prompt. I had never thought of searching for August poems. Who knew? You did. Thanks to you and Anna for her inspiration. I think this would be a great prompt for students. I had fun reading poems about my birth month today. I found this striking line from Emma Lazarus’ “August Moon” for a Golden Shovel poem: “Look! The round-cheeked moon floats high in the glowing August sky.” It reminded me of our super blue moon this past August.
Your poem made me smile. I love how that last stanza really gets us thinking about a year of Januarys. It would be quite an adventure–a week of break to start each month, plus a smattering of snow days. I love the line: “We do more with less anyway”
Denise, I love how you lifted up Lazarus’s beautiful line and turned it in such a delightful poem. You included the first word in a title and incorporated the title into the poem seamlessly. Your imagery allows me witness you on a porch with popcorn on this “cozy” August evening. I, too, remember the super Moon we observed in August. The photo is amazing; I took a couple too. Thank you!
Denise, I read um your poem before I read your comment and was surprised it was a golden shovel. Sometimes for me the ending of the line feels forced, but yours flows beautifully. I love “falling up into the sky.”
The way you used the tag line to draw us into your Moon experience is wonderful. I love Golden Shovels!!
“Falling up into the sky”- wonderful last line
Denise,
I quite enjoyed your poem and your inspiration for it. There’s a synergistic relationship between your photo and the inspiration poem that finds its apex in your golden shovel, “this orb full cheeked” is a gorgeous image and my favorite in the poem.
Denise,
You have painted a beautiful and cozy picture of your birthday month. These lines especially drew me in “just in/time for popcorn on the/porch and the glowing/cozy comfort of this August/evening, falling up into the sky.”
Denise, I totally agree with the others: I love your last line, “falling up into the sky” (and also your picture, too)! And thank you for reminding me of the super blue moon — and for capturing it so well, twice!
Thank you, Donnetta for this prompt. I have never written a black out poem and saw Kevin’s this morning. I thought I would give it a try but it changed even more with my additions. A good experience for me and a challenge.
May
by Rebecca Hey
The clouds “have wept their fill” the whole night long,
And what a change is wrought! But yesterday,
We look’d around, and scarce could deem that May,
The poet’s theme,—the month of flowers and song,—
Could do her own sweet lineaments such wrong
As to frown on us like a very shrew:
To-day, we feel what poets sing is true;
Like them, we hail her reign, and wish it long.
See, how each budding spray, each floweret fair
Retains the liquid treasure! how the trees,
Lest summer should o’ertake them unaware,
Haste to unfold their leaflets to the breeze;
While in the orchard every moss-grown stem,
And sapling shoot, a thousand blossoms gem.
The End of May
by Susan Osborn
Clouds wept a change yesterday.
I looked around May of flowers and song
to frown like it’s wrong
if I feel what is true
that her reign is not long.
Each spray, each flower
retains the treasure
that Summer oértakes unaware,
hastes to the hot breeze
while in every stem, a sapling shoot
and a thousand blossoms
begin to whither.
Susan, I’m glad you tried the blackout poem. I enjoyed reading both and see the differences in where yours went with the end of May and the beginning of the hot summer. I like “a thousand blossoms / begin to wither”
Susan, I really enjoyed the startling shift that your black-out poem took. That ending caught me by surprise: “and a thousand blossoms / begin to whither.” Thanks for this! (And for introducing me to Rebecca Hey’s “May”!)
Donnetta, thank you for such an enjoyable prompt! Your “Year of Januarys” flows easily with words and rhymes you chose to deliver a message. I smiled at your question about resolutions., but usually that’s what it takes, about a month, to forget and let them go. Love your poem ending: The first week, I’m still on break. / A year of January might be great.” Your poem has a much more positive attitude and mood than Annette Whynne’s! My poem is inspired by Emily Dickinson’s. I am far away from Dickinson’s genius though.
I am running to campus now, so I will comment later tonight.
Dear March—Come in
By Emily Dickinson (excerpt)
Dear March—Come in—
How glad I am—
I hoped for you before—
Put down your Hat—
You must have walked—
How out of Breath you are—
Dear March, how are you, and the Rest—
Did you leave Nature well—
Oh March, Come right upstairs with me—
I have so much to tell—
Dear March—Let me in–
By Leilya Pitre
Dear March—Let me in—
How glad I am—
You and I walk together—
See delicate flowers—
Enjoy warm lovely weather—
You must’ve planed for my delight—
Gifting us sun, blue skies, and light—
Before I tell you how I’ve been—
You tell me things that you have seen—
What bothers you, what makes you snappy—
Oh, March, I want you to be happy—
Leilya, Emily has inspired your Dickinson genius to come out. This is so sweet. I love March and the beauty that s/he brings in “Gifting us sun, blue skies, and light—” You have captured that here. I love the last line too!
I really enjoy your ending, Leilya. You would be a terrific friend to March. I so appreciate you trying to make her happy!
Leilya,
I love how your poem invites March to share her thoughts and how your words show gratitude for the way March has made you happy.
Leilya, how neat to think of March as snappy and able to talk about where it has been. I love thinking about where the months might go as they are waiting in the wings on their turn to take center stage again. Today, where is March?
Thanks for this prompt, Donnetta. I am writing alongside my students using this prompt today. I love how you used a mentor text and placed it side by side, so we could see how your was unique to you. I did a google search for poems about August, stole lines from poets Helen Hunt Jackson, Mary Oliver, and Algernon Charles Swinburn. (borrowed words in italics) My birthday was August 11th and on August 12th I got very sick. The depression of that time came up in my poem, as poems often do.
August
Silence again! The glorious symphony
pauses
sweet sounds cease.
Cicadas fade into the still, hot air
breathing their last song.
In the mute August afternoon
They trembled to some undertune,
trapped in exoskeletons hardened and held
by tree or fence post–
not death–
but the thought of death
grows inside me.
Everything wrong, and nowhere to go.
Oh, wow, Margaret, your poem is beautiful, enveloped and held by the beauty of the poets’ lines you have chosen. The cicadas ending their song in your poem, and “the thought of death” inside you is poignant and healing, I’m sure. It is to this reader.
August can be a tough month, and it sounds like it was especially for you this year. The image of the cicadas really captures that sense of fleeting time. I sure hope you are on the mend, Margaret!
Margaret,
I am drawn to the connection between the first 2 lines and the last 3 lines (fading, breathing their last, thought of death). I hope your sharing means you are all better.
Hi, Margaret! I can almost feel that hot, lifeless August air, especially because we had an unusually scorching summer, but more so, I sense your pain. One great psychologist once taught me to thank desperate thoughts and let them go. I would like you do that too. Hugs, friend!
Margaret, these lines resonate strongly with me:
not death–
but the thought of death
grows inside me.
Everything wrong, and nowhere to go.
The older I get, the more this idea looks and I’m glad to have faith. I have cicada bodies on my pine trees now, feet still clinging to bark.
Oh! What a fun way to explore poetry by other poets. I found Judith Viorst, born on my youngest son’s birthday, which is also in my birth month. I was drawn to her because she is female, like me, and because she has a knack for humorous observational poetry and children’s literature. I like that. I put mine, and under my poem is a copy of hers that I mirrored.
“If I Were in Charge of the World”
by Amber Harrison
If I were in charge of the world
I’d cancel ketchup,
Sunday nights,
acne, and also all the men I married.
If I were in charge of the world
There’d be more fun and games,
Longer living friends, and
reachable shelves everywhere.
If I were in charge of the world
You wouldn’t need gas money.
You wouldn’t need phones.
You wouldn’t need bedtimes.
Or ‘Be here on time.”
You wouldn’t even need time.
If I were in charge of the world
Hanging out with all my favorite people would be a good night’s sleep
All dark beer would be spring water,
And a person who sometimes speaks her mind,
And sometimes rolls her eyes,
Would still be allowed to be
In charge of the world.
“If I Were in Charge of the World”
by Judith Viorst
If I were in charge of the world
I’d cancel oatmeal,
Monday mornings,
Allergy shots, and also Sara Steinberg.
If I were in charge of the world
There’d be brighter nights lights,
Healthier hamsters, and
Basketball baskets forty eight inches lower.
If I were in charge of the world
You wouldn’t have lonely.
You wouldn’t have clean.
You wouldn’t have bedtimes.
Or ‘Don’t punch your sister.’
You wouldn’t even have sisters.
If I were in charge of the world
A chocolate sundae with whipped cream and nuts would be a vegetable
All 007 movies would be G,
And a person who sometimes forgot to brush,
And sometimes forgot to flush,
Would still be allowed to be
In charge of the world.
Amber, I love this so much:
And a person who sometimes speaks her mind,
And sometimes rolls her eyes,
Would still be allowed to be
In charge of the world.
We need strong women in charge of the world. A song comes to mind….the hand that rocks the cradle….hands have to be strong, and tender too. But eyerolls and mind speaking are part of the lineup sometimes.
100% strong and tender, too. I like how you put that.
I asked my students if they were in charge of the world, what would they cancel and shared that I’d cancel ketchup. Here are some of their answers so far: mustard, mosquitos, having to wait until 21 to buy a hand gun, sex offenders, stalkers (because one was just followed and whistled at on the way to the bus stop this morning). This list progressively went from simple to very torturous. It reminds me that we just really never know what is going on with these students outside of our classrooms (and maybe even within our classrooms without our knowing). Be kind always.
This is fabulous! I’d love to steal this form and cancel all the things I dislike. Yours says so much about you! I’m with you on the longer living friends and “you wouldn’t even need time”.
This was a fun one to write. I learned something about myself, too.
Amber, wow, you have knocked it out of the park. What a great mirror poem you wrote. You have so many beautiful and thought-provoking lines about husbands and friends who didn’t live long enough and “reachable shelves everywhere.” You wrote truth, and that is not easy to do.
Shucks! Thank you, Denise! Glad I could throw in some of the thought-provoking lines…that’s what Judith’s poem did for me. I’m glad I got it!
Thanks for the shout-out, Donnetta. It’s gratifying to see others share what we’ve shared. I never knew there were so MANY poems written about each month. Here’s mine about MY month. And it’s a Golden Shovel of sorts.
BURSTING OR BUSTING?
“June is bursting out all over.”
And I’m not just talking about clover
The school year ends and we see more grins
Not ‘ cause they’re just glad to go
We’re having exhibits to show
What our students have come to know
Working together in groups
Helping each other jump thru the hoops
“June is bursting out all over.”
Yes the girl who used to sit in the corner
The class loved her poem, the one about home
That she shared during poetry month
June is busting out all over.
As we noticed in their attire
Three times this week I’ve said, ”Cover up.
If it’s not for sale, don’t advertise.
Don’t show everything to the guys.”
“June is bursting out all over.”
And I truly am very glad
It’s my birthday month and my husband has
Gotten me something special, so I’m not mad
That my dear students are leaving me, sad.
(I hope readers pick up the subtle punctuation clue in the closing line. 🙂 Who’s sad?)
Awe! Love this gratitude towards the shout out and how connected this platform is. The repetition line of “June is bursting out all over” is such a strong part of this poem. Thank you for sharing this today.
Oh my goodness, Anna. Can I just stand up and say AMEN to the whole thing and Amen Hallelujah to this:
June is busting out all over.
As we noticed in their attire
Three times this week I’ve said, ”Cover up.
If it’s not for sale, don’t advertise.
Don’t show everything to the guys.”
Help yourself, Kim. That’s a quotation from my grandfather! We we’re “allowed” to show much “skin” period. No shorts, few sleeveless outfits, and definitely nothing revealing “cleavage!”
Anna, it is pleasure to give credit where credit is due when I’m inspired. “June is bustin’ out all over” is how I feel at the end of every school year! And I’m sad, too! Thank you for sharing today.
Donnetta, I especially love the last two lines of your poem…what I wouldn’t give for a week of break every month!
I had a lot of fun digging through April poems for this prompt…I ended up taking some inspiration from “Dream Song 47: April Fool’s Day, or St. Mary of Egypt” by John Berryman and “An April Day” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
I have the special “distinction” of being an April Fool’s baby.
First of April
The fool fell soft
Hands filled with fish
Jester’s cap askew
Shaking off the dew
Of this first April morning
Winter’s chill still lurking
The silly crocus breaks out
Forces her way through
Frosted dirt
The perpetual optimist
Harbinger of the new
To this dusty old world
Oh! This captures early April so well. the “silly crocus” breaking out is vivid and draws me in to your observation of the world.
Julie, I love the rich imagery of these lines
The silly crocus breaks out
Forces her way through
Frosted dirt
That makes me smile. Frosted dirt. How many frosted dirts do we break out of every day?
This is such a lovely uplifting poem. April Fool’s Baby! I love the silly crocus who breaks out with optimism. Is that you?
Julie, reading this poem, folks will not not to “fool around” with you! What a delightful way to start the month, “the perpetual optimist/Harbinger of the new…”
Good morning, Donnetta, and what a lovely way to ring in the day! Thank you for hosting us today. Your birthday poem resonates with me – I love the opening that perhaps you would not like January all year, then show us the shift of mindset by the end. My husband’s birthday is two days after yours, and I love that sometimes he gets a snow day birthday. He does not like cold and was born in January. I do not like heat and was born in July. That’s life, right?
I am using July by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts as my inspiration. He writes:
I am for the open meadows,
Open meadows full of sun,
Where the hot bee hugs the clover,
The hot breezes drop and run.
I respond in un-Julyness:
I am for the snow blanketing
the countryside quietly in the night
….and all day, too……
….and that glorious 6 a.m. phone call: School’s Out!
I like the anaphora “I am for” as a birthday poem form, exploring what you love and a new word “un-Julyness”. I’m not crazy about my birth month, August, because it is now the start of school and with all that busyness, no one notices.
Ooooo! Yes, School’s Out phone calls are joyful and peaceful. They come with the sound of rest.
Kim…such is life! Thank you for introducing me to a new word “un-Julyness”. Your first two line painted such a vivid image in my mind.
Hi, Kim, what a prominent response with “un-lulyness” painting quite an opposite picture of your preferred season. Surely, “that glorious 6 a.m. phone call” sounds like icing on a cake, that is atop the snow 😊 Thank you for sharing!
Sweet inspiration, and I love the beginning. “I am for…” makes me want to write that poem. Funny that you and hubby don’t appreciate the weather of your birth month. Yes, those snow day phone calls were always a welcome gift of needed rest.
Mist scene;
beauty unfolds
in sweetness
the charm dwells
leaves, glisten
in sunshine
Thanks for
Sweet May!
Time bursts
full
the earth
rejoices
in light
Is other
brightness
like May?
A blackout/found poem from A May Morning by Ellwood Roberts
Kevin, I am envious of how awesome your blackout poem is. I struggle! May is
an beautiful month! Your poem makes me think of the newness that “bursts” forth in spring. Thank you for sharing your poem for your birthday month.
Thank you, Donnetta, and may you find the poem that you need to write this morning, too
🙂
Kevin
You show how the economy of words is super-stunning in poetry, how the imagery pops out as we imagine this earth rejoicing in the light of May.
Your black out poem captures the essence of May, sweet sunshine. It always feels so new in May. We are cursing it by my birth month, August.
Oh! Well done! Well done! I like how you take the poem from a blackout and write it in verse. Brilliant!