Monday, April 30, 2018

Meditation on Mothers: Happy National Poetry Month!

My poet friend, Nancy Keck, is always inspired by her home in Northern Minnesota. In this dreamlike work, she ponders the eternal cycle of life and encourages us to remember our mothers and other women we have loved.


I walked into a forest and looked over the sea
     the Goddess came to me in memories of my mother, Jane
     my grandmother, Margaret, my friend, Martina
all gone from me now, but their love still very much with me.
I asked the Goddess to heal my broken heart
to somehow smooth together the fractures of loss, of hopes mislaid, of dreams forgotten.
I gave to the Goddess a lilac, one stem of purple flowers,
     the scent of spring , the image of my spirit
     of my love for this earth, for this life
     its beauty in brief and eternal time.

The Goddess gave me the hope of my dreams, the continuation of our family’s lineage
     through my cherished daughter, Suzanne,
     a tiny, perfect baby.
I kissed the baby’s fingers and held it tightly, yet gently
     realization of Suzanne’s longing to become a mother
     incarnation of my hope to become a grandmother
     connection with my mother and grandmothers
     link back through the women of our family
          to the ancient rocks of England, to ancient Celtic spirits
          to ancient voices singing through the waves of Lake Superior
          through the branches of pines in the Northern forest
          to the Northern Lights that danced all over the sky following my mother’s death.

I sit beside Lake Superior
watching the waves wash into the shore, then back out again.
One day those waves will carry my ashes, my spirit,
to join those of the women who have gone on before me
to become one with the Divine.

     ~Nancy Ronstrom Keck
     (c) April 26, 2009

How do you remember and honor the women who have gone on before you?

Thursday, April 26, 2018

Peachy Poetry: Happy National Poetry Month!

(all photos by Jane Heitman Healy (c) 2011)

If you follow this blog in late summer, you know I love peaches from Western Colorado. So when teacher-poet Janet Clare Fagal submitted these poems, my mouth watered! Enjoy the poem, leave a comment for Janet, and enjoy a fresh peach when you get a chance.                  

                                  After Spring Comes Summer: A Trio of Peachy Poems

                                                           The Peach

                                                           Rub, squeeze, chomp, sip
                                                           sweet fleshy globe.
                                                           Golden-pink like sunset.
                                                           Slips down your throat
                                                           cool as night.
                                                           Feels like summer.

                                                               Orchard Treasure

                                                               Silky summer
                                                               poised in the farmstand
                                                               Piled high, plump,

                                                                  Peach Cobbler

                                                                  Swirled like pearls,
                                                                  soft and plump,
                                                                  round like globes,
                                                                  gone in gulps.

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Walking Watson: Happy National Poetry Month!

Watson, age 5

Happy Birthday (April 22), Watson! He loves his new ball and is grateful for spring because that means more frequent and longer w-a-l-k-s. (I'm in trouble if he learns how to spell!) Watson is a great walker now, but in his puppyhood, walking him was more challenging, prompting this poem from 2015:

Walking My Dog, Watson

When I walk Watson, he sets the pace.
He launches off  like he’s in a race
And runs a block or maybe two
While I hold on. Who’s leading who?
He trots and stops and circles back to sniff at every tree.
He jumps at squirrels, which seems to make him gallop vertically.
He lolls at every post and bush and runs full-out between,
And when we meet some people, he licks their faces clean.
Some ask why I do it, but the question ought to be
Am I walking Watson, or is Watson walking me?
                                                ~Jane Heitman Healy, (c) 2015
(This poem first appeared as a Word of the Month poem on David L. Harrison's site in April 2015. The word was "pace.")

Fall 2017

Monday, April 23, 2018

Earth Day Every Day: Happy National Poetry Month!

Paula, a scientist, is always thinking of ways to be kinder to the planet. Here's one offering: 


Goes 50 miles on just the electric

People ask, where is it charged? 
It can be done in your garage

Unplug the car, away you go
Forget the gas; it isn’t low

For the electric encourage more miles,
Build more plugs—the reward is smiles.
                                    ~Paula Struckman

I regularly play over at poet David L. Harrison’s Word of the Month poem. This month’s word is “earth.” My acrostic entry is below, and you can go to this page to see the others. Leave one of your own if you like!

Our Only Planet

Acts of kindness
Tender care of our
        ~Jane Heitman Healy

Saturday, April 21, 2018

The Importance of Bees: Happy National Poetry Month!

Elizabeth Neubauer knows a lot about insects and appreciates them more than the average person. We should all value bees for their ability to pollinate our plants, which in turn, creates our food.

                                                    April 7th
                                                    Bees rooting around in flowers for
                                                    Tongues slipping through petals
                                                    Touching pistils and stamens
                                                    Collecting pollen in bags
                                                    To take home to their babies
                                                    While fecund blooms
                                                    Ripen into fruit.

                                                             ~Elizabeth Neubauer (c) 2018

Elizabeth's poetry also appeared here earlier this month. Leave her a comment if you like.

Thursday, April 19, 2018

What Really Counts?: Happy National Poetry Month!

See more from Carmen Graber here this year. She teaches 8th grade English Language Arts, a grade whose students take part in a district-wide poetry slam each year. She wrote this poem while working with her students on their poetry slam poems. Is it really what's inside that counts?

On the Outside

It’s what is on the inside that matters.
How many times have you heard that?
How many times have you said that?
To a child, to a teen, to a friend.
Words of comfort
From well-meaning persons
To make someone feel better.
But what about the tears
Sliding down the cheeks
Of a young boy
Trying to hide the bruises.
Those are on the outside-
Does that mean they don’t matter?
What about the thin red lines
Appearing on the arm
Of a young girl
Trying to end the pain.
Those are on the outside-
Does that mean they don’t matter?
What about the anger and rage
Of a teenage boy swallowing steroids
So he can make the team.
The explosions are on the outside -
Does that mean they don’t matter?
What about the protruding ribs and bones
Of the teenage girl
Starving herself to become model thin.
Those are on the outside -
Does that mean they don’t matter?
What about the emptiness and despair
Prominently displayed on the faces
Of a young man or young woman
Whose forever after has suddenly ended.
Those are on the outside -
Does that mean they don’t matter?
What are we missing
By only looking to the inside?
Not everything on the outside
Is superficial.
Sometimes -
The outside provides a window
Into the soul of the people around us
And together that is what matters.

                                     ~cjgraber (c) 2018

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Celebrating International Haiku Day with Amy Losak: Happy National Poetry Month!

by Amy Losak

Today is International Haiku Day, according to the Haiku Foundation. Celebrate with haiku lovers around the world with these by Amy and her mother, Sydell Rosenberg!

You met Amy last week when her mother's book for children, H is for Haiku: a Treasury of Haiku from A-Z by Sydell Rosenberg, came into the world.

Amy, why do you practice haiku?

The economic but endlessly evocative qualities of haiku -- saying a lot with few words and in few lines; leaving things out so readers can "fill in" their own meanings -- is what makes this poetic form challenging, sometimes frustrating, and ultimately rewarding. 

by Amy Losak

Amy adds: For me, a haiku poem rarely occurs in a flash of inspiration -- a "Eureka" moment that needs no revision. Haiku, despite (or perhaps because of) their brevity, can take a long time to polish. The poem may never be "perfect." I am rarely satisfied. I sometimes have several versions of a poem, and I go back and forth with changes and my preferences, even after submission or publication.

And I’m learning that this is okay. Haiku is about more than craft and the end product put down on the page. Haiku impels me to slow down, take a breath, be in the moment and deeply observe my surroundings. It is an act of both focus and flow. Writing haiku takes practice and discipline, but it shouldn’t be intimidating (though I admit I sometimes am intimidated!). As we observe and write, it’s fine to allow ourselves to “play” too. Still, I’m striving to hone my haiku.

Thanks for these insights into this deceptively simple poetic form, and thanks for sharing your haiku. Here are three from Sydell Rosenberg, (1929-1996):

(all images from pixabay)

If you want to learn more about haiku, a wealth of online and social media resources are at your fingertips. So Amy and I hope you will haiku, too. Enjoy!

Sunday, April 15, 2018

How to Live "In Spite" of Hardship: Happy National Poetry Month!

Teacher, poet, friend Carmen Graber graced these pages last year herehere, and here. I'm pleased to have her back with this poem, which was inspired by a friend's daughter who was having health issues in high school and maintained such a positive attitude through it all. May you also be inspired, and if you are, please leave a comment for Carmen.

In Spite
In spite of my fears, I will be brave
In spite of my sorrow, I will laugh.
In spite of my hurt, I will love.
In spite of my pain, I will face each day.
In spite of all the world throws at me,
I will LIVE!
In spite of my faults, God loves me.
In spite of my weakness, God strengthens me.
In spite of my doubts, God encourages me.
In spite of my silence, God hears me.
In spite of hard
times,God blesses me.

                                    ~cjgraber © 2018

Thursday, April 12, 2018

First Bike: Happy National Poetry Month!

Remember learning to ride your bike? Minnesota poet Dave Healy has captured the experience with poignant precision.

First Bike

At Montgomery Wards the bikes and trikes
were segregated and arranged by size.
My father made a deal: I could have
the biggest trike or smallest bike—
no choice at all for any five-year-old.

When we got home he got a wrench 
and attached the training wheels. 
I rode that four-wheeler for a year
or so until one day my father said
“I think it’s time to take then off.”
He got a wrench and did the deed.

How did he know that it was time?
For when I climbed aboard the craft 
that had been shorn of its supports
I pedaled off as if I had been riding 
two-wheelers all my life.

Halfway down the block I stopped
and turned around. My father stood
there, wrench in hand, looking for 
the son who left him far behind.
                      ~ Dave Healy (c) 2018

See another of Dave's poems when he was featured last year here.

Monday, April 9, 2018

H is for Haiku: Happy National Poetry Month!

Happy Book Birthday tomorrow to Amy Losak and, posthumously, Sydell Rosenberg, Amy's mother. Amy has worked long and tirelessly to honor her mother's desire to publish a children's book of haiku--and now it's here! Penny Candy Books proudly releases H is for Haiku: a Treasury of Haiku from A to Z by Sydell Rosenberg, illustrated by Sawsan Chalabi on April 10!

I featured Amy last April here, and she offered an update below. 

Why haiku, Amy?

I started on this unusual journey several years ago, thanks to my mom, Sydell Rosenberg, a teacher and charter member of the Haiku Society of America and served as secretary in 1975. HSA was founded in New York in 1968. This year, it celebrates its 50th anniversary. I’m a member now, as well.

Mom wrote haiku and senryu for a long time – I think about 30 years. Mom also studied the art and craft of these forms. She published her first haiku in 1967, I believe, in a journal titled, American Haiku. Over the years, her work (not just poetry, but also short stories, word and literary puzzles, and more) was published in a variety of media, including journals and anthologies. Her senryu even was featured in a novel public art project called Haiku On 42nd Street in 1994. Short poems were displayed on the marquees of old movie houses in the heart of New York City.

Tell us how H is for Haiku came to be.

Despite her accomplishments as a writer, Syd very much wanted to publish a kids’ book: a haiku A-B-C reader. She started submitting at least one manuscript to publishers in the 1980s – perhaps even in the 1970s. Years after she passed away in 1996, I picked up where she left off.

Along the way, I did other things to bring her “city haiku” (as she called her work in the classic 1974 text, The Haiku Anthology) to the public, especially kids. Among several projects, I have partnered for several years with a New York nonprofit arts education organization, Arts For All. Mom's haiku have been used in a Bronx and Queens public school to teach the basics of painting, drawing and collage; music; and theater. I view mom’s haiku as miniature stories, in a way, with characters and plots – and many have a lively, appealing visual quality. They pair well with other art forms.

But the ultimate goal has been the book. 

          "This is a dream come true,
          at last – not only for my mom,
          but her family."

                             Syd Rosenberg and her daughter, Amy (photo submitted by Amy)

Wonderful haiku poetry is being written today around the world. It truly is a global, diverse – and very generous -- community.

If you want to learn more about haiku, there is a wealth of online and social media resources available. So I hope you will haiku, too. Enjoy!

Congratulations, Amy, on the release of H is for Haiku! Readers, I'm featuring some of Amy's and Syd's haiku on April 17, International Haiku Poetry Day. You'll want to stop by and enjoy! 

Saturday, April 7, 2018

Swirl: Happy National Poetry Month!

photo from pixabay

This evocative poem by friend and artist Elizabeth Neubauer is fun to read aloud.


a swirl in the solution
an evolution

        ~Elizabeth Neubauer, 2018

Go ahead, read it again out loud. You know you want to!

And the word "swirl" reminded me of Joyce Sidman's marvelous award-winning book of nature poems, Swirl by Swirl. Check it out!

As my friend, children's author and librarian Jean Patrick says, "Stay in the swirl of life."

Thursday, April 5, 2018

Letter to a Newborn: Happy National Poetry Month!

Photo by pixabay

What would you say to welcome a newborn? What would you want the baby to know about his or her life? Poet friend Nancy Keck, who wrote the previous post, also sent along this prose poem written for her new grandson. I especially like her descriptive phrases, such as "this world of wonder and of woe."

For Cillian Haven Rafferty

In a winter when Lake Superior was frozen over and Ireland deluged with record rain storms, you were born, baby Cillian.

We had been waiting for you for a long time.

Your big brother, Cian, was eager for a playmate, though not quite so certain about sharing his toys and his Mama.

Your Dad, Noel, home from his work in frozen North Dakota, far from the Dublin of his youth was eager and apprehensive about your birth. More responsibility, but another boy, how grand!

Your Grandma Margaret came all the way from County Wexford in Ireland to stay for three months helping your family care for you and your brother. What a calming presence she is.

Your Mama, Amy, born in February, the month of huge snowflakes, as was Cian, as are you, was the most ready for you to be here. At nine minutes before midnight on February 25, 2014, you were brought into this world of wonder and of woe. Though you needed breathing assistance for several days at the altitude of the high desert valley where you entered this life, you were a beautiful baby, so gentle and cuddly right from the start. You were born into a family extending from Western Colorado to Northern Minnesota to Ireland, an international, multi-generational family eager for you to be here.

Auntie Suzanne, a nurse, traveled over the Rocky Mountains with your cousins Mikayla and Kevin to assist in hospital communications. She even made a delicious turkey dinner, your Mom’s favorite, before returning to her home outside of Denver.

You have grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends, already, who are so glad you are here. The world you are joining is filled with all kinds animals (many of them living in your house!) amazing plants, discoveries to be made, communities to build and hope to share. In the peaceful valley where you were born fruit trees will blossom soon, bees will pollinate the orchards, and gardens will grow produce that is fresh and safe to eat. Wild places are close; the Colorado and the Grand Rivers meet here; and, bicycle trails are nearly everywhere.

Such a wonder-full life awaits you!

Welcome to this world and to all who love you, baby Cillian.

                                                                               ~Grammie Nancy Keck
                                                                                 March 12, 2014

Tuesday, April 3, 2018

Springtime in the Autumn of Our Lives: Happy National Poetry Month!

Like last year, I have invited some poet friends to share their work with us. I'm pleased to have Nancy Keck return with this year with this poem to spring. See her last year's submissions here, here, and here.

Spring Time in the Autumn of Our Lives

I am thankful for the lilacs and the rain this springtime in the Grand
Valley as I move unwillingly into old age.
So many spring times and autumns lived here in Colorado, the West,
though my memory remains in the North Country on the shore of
Lake Superior, my heart’s home.

Yet year upon year I’ve lived in the high desert
      where our daughters grew into brave young women,
      mothers now with compassionate careers
      their lives have passed as a flicker of a candle flame,
      as my life has passed
Until now when I wake in the morning and my mind searches my body
      for the locus of pain and I wonder
      How mobile will I be today?
      How long will my energy sustain me?
      What, if anything, will I accomplish?
The first cup of coffee brings hope
      soaking in a hot tub of Epsom Salts and lavender bring relief
      then, I can begin my day.

Focus on the good, I think, all the joys of this life
      extravagant scent of the lilacs
      deep softness of my husky’s thick, double coat
      steady richness of my husband’s garden
      peach-tender skin of my sleeping grandson’s cheek
      caring closeness of my daughters
      understanding humor of my friends
      sunlight glancing off the Colorado River, my sister now,
            after all the years I’ve spent on her banks
      joy of birdsong in the morning
      safety of our little house that shelters us, my husband and I,
            survivors of loss and desperation
      walking gently into these, the latest years of our lives
      believing in the dreams of our adult children
      loving the promise of our grandchildren
      seeking gratitude for all we have been given.

                                                ~Nancy E. Keck, May 16, 2016

What would be on your list when you focus on the good?

Sunday, April 1, 2018

Happy Easter! Happy National Poetry Month!

I'm pleased to kick off National Poetry Month on this Easter Sunday with this carol by John M. C. Crum, "Now the Green Blade Riseth."

And for those of you who observe April Fool's Day, here's a link to Lucille Clifton's poem, "the calling of the disciples."

Stay tuned this month for posts from guest poet friends!