Tuesday, March 31, 2020

Progressive Poem Starts Here





I can't believe it is April 1 already!  And that means it is the first day of the Progressive Poem.  Irene Latham who began this poem project back in 2012, has handed it over to Margaret Simon to organize.  I am so grateful to both Irene and Margaret for this wonderful April collaboration to kick of National Poetry Month.
Each day in April a different poet will add a line to this poem begun here today.  No one knows where it will go or how it will get there, but it always gets there beautifully!

I wanted senses or movement in my line to begin this journey.  So I scribbled down a number of potential lines to start us off.

And then I came up with an idea for getting the ball rolling…

I selected TWO of my lines.  We will only USE ONE of them, but let’s let the SECOND PERSON DECIDE which of my two lines they will use.  That second person just happens to be Irene Latham!  
So Irene will have the opportunity to decide which line speaks to her more, and then write the next line of the poem.

YOU don’t have to do that for your turn, but I suppose you could.  No one will ever know beforehand if you are giving a choice of two lines or not.  I just thought it would be fun to change it up on the first line!

Here’s LINE CHOICE A:   “I feel the taste of green upon my toes, my toes”

and  LINE CHOICE B:   “Sweet violets shimmy, daffodils sway”

I’m always fascinated with the direction these group endeavors take.  Where will the poem go this year?  What will you do when it comes around to you?

Ready, set... let’s have some poetic fun!  Now I’m excited to see which line Irene's pen is inclining toward...which one will be first!

“I feel the taste of green upon my toes, my toes”
OR
“Sweet violets shimmy, daffodils sway”

1 Donna Smith at Mainely Write
2 Irene Latham at Live Your Poem
3 Jone MacCulloch, deowriter
4 Liz Steinglass
5 Buffy Silverman
6 Kay McGriff at https://kaymcgriff.edublogs.org/
7 Catherine Flynn at Reading to the Core
8 Tara Smith at Going to Walden
9 Carol Varsalona at Beyond Literacy Link
10 Matt Forrest Esenwine at Radio, Rhythm, and Rhyme
11 Janet Fagel, hosted at Reflections on the Teche
12 Linda Mitchell at A Word Edgewise
13 Kat Apel at Kat Whiskers
14 Margaret at Reflections on the Teche
15 Leigh Anne Eck at A Day in the Life
16 Linda Baie at Teacher Dance
17 Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe
18 Mary Lee Hahn at A Year of Reading
19 Tabatha at Opposite of Indifference
20 Rose Cappelli at Imagine the Possibilities
21 Janice Scully at Salt City Verse
22 Julieanne Harmatz at To Read, To Write, To Be
23 Ruth, thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
24 Christie Wyman at Wondering and Wandering
25 Amy at The Poem Farm
26 Dani Burtsfield at Doing the Work That Matters
27 Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge
28 Jessica Big at Mainely Write     
29 Fran Haley at lit bits and pieces
30 Michelle Kogan

Friday, March 13, 2020

Madness is

* Edited to update: All schools are closed for the next 2 weeks in PA.  So after cleaning up the kids and getting their school clothes in the wash, I came down to visit them. My daughter works at a school, so she is off, too.  I can come and go to see them these two weeks, but I'll still mostly be upstairs.

I've hobbled upstairs to the in-law apartment for staying a bit more "germ safe" until I get more mobile.  No one's been here since my fall Jan. 9, so it's kind of a safe haven for me.  I'm canceling my PT.  Most things are really buttoning up and only essential travel, etc.  The libraries in the next county - a couple of miles away - are closed for the next 2 or more weeks.  So, being in the more "at risk" groups, I'm sequestered away for a bit.  Everyone just cover your coughs and wash your hands till we get on the other side of this Madness...

Today is the last day for voting on Round 1 of Madness! Poetry... Matt, who is hosting Poetry Friday today, has a lot about the event, so I won't go into detail here...He's also got a lot of other great stuff going on, so check in at Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme.

I'm a bit behind, but pleased with my student appreciation votes!  Voting closes today between 5 and 5:30 pm so hurry on over if you haven't checked it out yet.

There are some - no LOTS - of outstanding poems this round.  If you have not gone there to vote - you must!!  I'm telling you, there is no better way to get yourself, and your classroom psyched for Poetry Month in April, than to kick off with this!

Here's my bonus poem using all 64 words in the current round of competition (it is not a competition poem - I just had time on my hands and my word started me thinking this):

A Conversation

She looked at me askance,
Her doubt so real and sure,
“Are you an apparition
Or your substance solid, pure?
Are you a cloud? Are you fog?
Are you really here?
And if you are, please tell me
Are you cause for fecund fear?”

“Do you think me unbecoming
My misshapen features daunting?
Perhaps I am a mite macabre
But I’m handsome as a haunting!
You yourself aren’t much see,
You’ve nothing much to boast
You hardly warrant wrested time
I’m so aghast,” said ghost.
“May I be frank about your flaws
So many come to mind;
festooned with hair and clothing
Your skin like orange rind -
You really lack a luster
Your gait is not as spry
For mine is windswept, exuberant
And you will never fly!
I’ve pigeonholed your lifestyle,
You friends are all riffraff
And if you weren’t so sad a sack
I’d be inclined to laugh.”

“So you ARE a ghost” she whispered,
Feeling just a mite hoodwinked.
“In the daytime I won’t see you
For with darkness you are linked?”

“My labile image will cease to be
Unmoored it sails away,
But you, my dear, will be cloistered here
Contented in your way!
One might think you a martyr
For cleaving to this earth
And though you are exuberant
I think you have no worth.”

“Well, that may be my trenchant friend,
But I think that you are wrong.
My repertoire is greater than
Your decrepit little song -
Gamboling on the earth at night
Submerged in dankest places
Bearing overtures so sad and slouched,
Conspiring in their faces.”

“Well fine, I’ll leave you be now
A bevy of souls awaits…
And if I swoop on over there
I might get through those gates…”

By Donna JT Smith, 03/09/2020

Friday, February 28, 2020

Are You a Pluviophile?

"To be a poet is a condition, not a profession."
Robert Frost
 
Here is a poem for Poetry Friday!  Thanks, Karen Edmisten, for hosting today!

Rain

Fresh the drops that slowly soak
Into earth with gentle quenching
Crash and suddenly it pours

Kettles, buckets in great

Loads

Electric flashes pierce the sky

Then just as quickly as they came
Rumbles pass

Into the night and

Cease their
Knightish horseless battle

Leaving merely an

Esoteric essence,
Sweet tattle of spring

By Donna JT Smith


The prompt for Saturday, Feb. 29: 
Here's a heads up for tomorrow - the last day of Laura Shovan's birthday month treat of poetry writing about all things "water".  If you are not a member of this group but would like to try this, let me know where you have posted it on your blog or FB so we can all go read it! Or put it in the comments here.

Some new(?) vocabulary and music to "get you into the spirit" with the "rain" theme:

Are you a Pluviophile?  I did not know about this...

Pluviophile = a lover of rain; someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days.

 

Step 1: Write a form of poetry you have never tried before.  Here are two links to a bunch of poetic format descriptions:

Writers' Digest 100 Poetic Forms for Poets
Poem of Quotes: Types of Poems

Or if you don't like "going places", here are a few formats with their descriptions:

Tanka: The tanka is a Japanese form with five lines. The first and third lines have five syllables and the other lines have seven syllables each. The subject of the poem can be nature, as it is for haiku, but this isn’t required.

Ode: An ode is a poem addressed to a particular person, event, or thing, often meant to praise or glorify its subject. The ode is from ancient Greece. If you are addressing something/someone directly, you are writing an ode.

Epitaph: The epitaph is like the elegy, only shorter. It’s the kind of poem that might appear on a gravestone, although it doesn’t have to. It’s brief and it pays tribute to a person who has passed away or commemorates some other loss.

Ballad: A ballad tells a story. It’s an old, traditional form that was passed down orally from one generation to the next. Strictly speaking, ballads are written in quatrains, groups of four lines, and have a rhyme scheme of ABAB or ABCB. The lines alternate between having eight syllables and six syllables. But the ballad is a loose enough form that you can stray from the strict.

Epigram: An epigram is short and witty, often satirical, and have a surprising and funny ending. Epigrams don’t have to be poems, but they often are.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “Epigram“:
Sir, I admit your general rule,
That every poet is a fool,
But you yourself may serve to show it,
That every fool is not a poet.


Step 2: Pair the poetic format with one of the famous quotes below, your poem #29 Saturday.

OR simply pick a quote you already have about rain and write whatever you like!
The main goal is to use a quote about rain as inspiration and try something new!


Quotes about rain:
  • A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener.
    Henry David Thoreau
  • We forget that the water cycle and the life cycle are one.
    Jacques Yves Cousteau
  • Only when the sky cries can we publicly shed our tears.
    Kanashimi Raven
  • Some people feel the rain, others just get wet.
    Bob Marley
  • If the rain spoils our picnic but saves a farmer's crop, who are we to say it shouldn't rain?
    Tom Barrett
  • On a sunny clear day, you can improve your body; on a rainy fogy day, you can improve your mind!
    Mehmet Murat ildan
  • Only a select few are able to see the true beauty that lies behind what just might seem like a rainy day or a grey sky.
    Jessica M. Laar
  • I know it is wet and the sun is not sunny, but we can have lots of good fun that is funny.
    Dr. Seuss
  • I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way they handle these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.
    Maya Angelou
  • I wonder what ants do on rainy days.
    Haruki Murakami
  • A rainy day is the perfect time for a walk in the woods.
    Rachel Carson 
  • Rainy days should be spent at home with a cup of tea and a good book.
    Bill Watterson
     
  • A rainy day is a special gift to readers.
    Amy Miles
     
  • The best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain.
    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

And remember -
"Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on."
Louis L'Amour

Friday, February 14, 2020

What's Up, Doc?

My last post and first of the new year was my OLW, Faith, post.  remember how I was a little afraid to claim that word?  I really wanted it as a reminder of how God has seen us through so much in the past two years, and having clear, calm faith was hard to come by at some points.
Well, I've tried to focus on Faith ever since that post.

Having taken a serious fall on January 9th - a tumble headfirst down the stairs of my apartment over the garage.  I broke my right ankle and right wrist, and damaged tissue in my left wrist. It meant i would have to use a wheelchair carefully.  I had one good limb. My ankle required surgery for pins.

I have tried to stay positive and trust that all would go well, keeping my faith strong throughout the ordeal.  I have since then been in the hospital for 3 nights, a rehab facility for 2 weeks and a respite care facility for 9 days.  I have now been at my daughter's staying in her livingroom for 5 days, and looking forward to 4 more weeks here.

I have kept busy with poetry writing, ukulele, and on-going rehab.

Laura Shovan has her birthday month of poetry challenges/nudges and here are a few that I have written which have kept me focused and faith-full this month so far.


An Acrostic to go with Jessica Bigi's image:

A "how to poem" featuring water given as a prompt by Lisa Vihos:

How to Make a River

Wait for a rainy day,
This may take awhile,
So while the sun shines
Gather small sticks in a pile.
Wait for a rainy day.
If it hasn’t happened yet
Put your boots by the door -
You don’t want to get feet wet.
Wait for a rainy day.
If clouds form, then drops,
Give it time to gather steam.
Watch for puddles catching plops.
Wait for the rain to quit.
Put on boots, grab a stick.
Start at the top of a gravel hill,
Puddle to puddle join them quick!
Don’t wait any longer,
Set the tiny sticks to float.
Start at the very first puddle,
Let each stick become a boat.
Wait for the river flow.
As puddles start to drain
Your stick boats on a journey
In your puddle-jump river of rain. 
Then
    Wait for 
         a rainy day. 
Another’s 
     around 
          the bend
With boots 
     and sticks 
          and puddles
The rivers 
     have 
       never to 
           end. 

By Donna JT Smith



And this, in response to Susan Michelle Brisson's photos of frogs:
Creatures in the Night

I opened the windows
To let in a night breeze.
“Close the windows, Mommy.
Please, close them, please.”
“But it’s warm up here, hon,”
And I turned down his bed
“I don’t want them open.”
He repeatedly said.
“Why? What is the matter?
It’s so warm tonight.”
“The creatures will get me.
They might even bite!”
“There are no creatures out there
That will get you,” I said.
“Yes, there are. Shh! Listen!”
And he jumped into bed.
Then I heard the sounds of
Sweet peepers singing
He’d misheard me say creatures
So the thoughts they were bringing
Were visions of armies
And armies of creatures
With certainly scary and
Alien features
No talking about it.
I tried to explain.
But he already had “creatures”
Raging wild in his brain.
So I closed all the windows
No breezes for sleeping;
Tomorrow we’d talk
About frogs and their peeping!

By Donna JT Smith

I just got my staples removed yesterday, and I'm working on putting a small amount of weight on my foot always in the boot, increasing weight gradually over the next 4 weeks.  I have a walker now to supplement the wheelchair and scooter use - house is getting crowded!


Foot up and nap now!
But you can go read more poems to celebrate Valentine's Day and Poetry Friday at TeacherDance with Linda.

Thursday, January 2, 2020

OLW - Faith


It is Spiritual Journey Thursday for January, and we are writing about our One Little Word for the year 2020. Visit Margaret Simon's Reflections on the Teche to get the complete list of our little first Thursday of the month group and read about the words they've chosen.

I remember once thinking things like "How could someone not go to church if they had such a heavy burden?  That's what God and prayer are for."
And then it happened to me.

I picked the word "Faith" for me this year.
I was almost afraid to have this word...maybe I still am a little.There were times this past year that I felt like I was too far away from God.  That things were too heavy, and I was too burdened to have the strength to bring the burdens to Him.
What a ditz.

But here's the thing.  If you ask God for patience, he will give you trials to test your patience so you can get better at it.  How can you learn patience if there is nothing to be patient about?  The same with faith.  Did he give me more things to test my faith when I asked him to grow my faith?  I asked him to do that... and then I was given trials and worries to put in his hand and LEAVE there.  That was hard.  I kept taking them back.
I'm still afraid that I will take them back.

I have been working on - or letting God work on - me and my faith.  I am relearning my leap and relying on Him to catch me.  I contemplated changing my word when I realized I may have brought all this on myself by asking to grow in faith.  But I'm going to be brave and have faith that all that God has been doing is for my good.  I've seen some evidence already, and it makes me smile to see the worrisome things that have been turned around with nothing I've done on my own.
What a ditz.
So yes.  Faith is my word.  I'm going to embrace it... I'm not going to be afraid of it.

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."  Hebrews 11:1

Faith

Faith is knowing
what I can't see
is there or very
soon to be.
It's pushing worry
to the side,
a steadfast stance
no backward slide.
But everyone
has times of doubt
a season of
"What's this about?",
a time we wonder
what will be,
a time we wish
that we could see
what lies ahead,
to see the rest,
to understand how
we'll be blessed.
In all the chaos,
seasons bleak
we sometimes mutter
and faith is weak.
But by and by
when we attend
we see his work,
the woven end.
God always knew
his work was good,
and hoped we'd
trust him as we should.
Faith means we're
keeping step and walking;
praying, asking
ever talking
to the Lord through
smiles and tears,
awash in love,
assuaging fears,
though climbing up
another hill
to swallow yet
another pill.
But then when all
may seem its worst
The rains abate
and sun rays burst.
And even when you've
paid quite dearly
for quiet times
and very nearly
destroyed your faith
and walked away,
just stay the course,
have faith to pray.

by Donna JT Smith, 1/2/2020

"But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him."  Hebrews 11:6

May your faith be gently tested, may you remain strong and steadfast in it.




Friday, December 6, 2019

Thursday and Friday



I am combining my first Thursday of the month, Spiritual Thursday's post hosted by Irene Latham, and Poetry Friday with Tanita as hostess!  You can read the Spiritual Thursday's writers' posts about their OLW "One Little Word" for 2019 - a recap of the words that directed lives this year, and poetry for a Friday. Thank you, Michelle Barnes, for sharing my poem today at Today's Little Ditty.  You have so much on your plate that is delicious and savorable!  And I am so pleased to have contributed to your newest anthology!  I'm enjoying the reading and rereading!
I have not been up to speed on my blog, but I blog when I can, and when there's inspiration. Here's today's time and inspiration.  Perhaps you can guess what my One Little Word will be for next year.

Wordless?

I did not
    have a word.
But I did have
days and weeks of
    treading;
fortnights and months of
    searching;
hours of waking;
minutes of sleeping;
    pacing
       without a word.
It was a time of
gluing together,
    ripping apart,
       changing direction,
forging ahead;
    juggling shattered plates
       without a word.
It was
    packing,
       unpacking,
          repacking,
    thinking,
       unthinking,
          rethinking,
heaving memorabilia,
    savoring memories,
learning new road signs,
    carving new life signs.
It was
    leaving,
      arriving,
        leaving
without compass
    or sextant
       (the stars were clouded anyway);
the GPS recalculating
    route and
    distance and
    ETA
       still without a word.
There were storms withstood,
    dancing dreams,
       pins and needles.
There were
    guessings
       and blessings,
But never was there a word
    of anchor.
I think it would have required
    a boulder sized word,
       or maybe mountainous.
Perhaps that should have been my word.
    Mountain -
       (For that is what I sought)
The refuge of a mountain,
    above the fray,
       closer to pray.
I dragged rocks around that
    I could have given away
       or should have let stay.
Next year
       a word
Lighter than air
    fluttery like a butterfly
    confident as a robin,
       happy as hopping,
       spider web strong,
       fearless regardless,
    positive as punctuating with a period,
       full of yes, more, please -
       sparse of nay and
       devoid of dismay
    I'll grasp,
Yet all the while
    I'll recall how
Faith
    is knowing I can,
       with help,
          even
             without a word.

by Donna JT Smith, 12/5/2019

Thank you for reading.  Thank you for always being so, so positive and supportive.  I love this group.

Friday, November 22, 2019

Time and Space

Time goes by, and I realize I have not put much online lately.  It isn't that I haven't been writing, but because I have.  And I have been busy with life.

I don't know if anyone has invented this poetry form or not.  I will have to research it.   I would call it a Shuffle.  I have written the poem to have alternating lines.  The first Stanza is non-rhyming, the second has the same rhyme throughout, then the lines are alternated to make the third stanza.   Better understood after reading it!

Time and Space

So much time,   .
Wait... short the time,  
Something's wrong -
Each battered soul  
Desires as I     
      
A contented walk  
No stress or grimace

      
Though time runs short     
In joyful Autumn   
I dare to linger 

   so little space
   but long the race
   confounded pace
   in need of grace   
   to find a place
   without dark trace
   clouding face
   so much is chase
   such a fickle embrace
   ere sweet flakes of lace.




So much time,
   so little space.
Wait... short the time,
   but long the race;
Something's wrong -
   confounded pace!


Each battered soul
   in need of grace
Desires as I    
   
   to find a place;
A contented walk
   without dark trace
No stress or grimace

   
   clouding face,
Though time runs short, 
   so much is chase
In joyful Autumn
   such a fickle embrace
I dare to linger
   ere sweet flakes of lace.


by Donna JT Smith, ©11/22/2019







Friday, November 1, 2019

Scareful



Michelle H. Barnes of Today's Little Ditty interviewed sloth fan, Rebecca Herzog, who gave the poetic challenge of writing about what a monster might be afraid of.  I started with one thing in mind, and it grew and twisted by the end.  Hope you had a scareful Halloween!

Scareful

Upstairs in my darkened room
I love to scatter dust with broom,
Then eat a snack of lovely bugs
Like beetles, worms and slimy slugs.
I pet my rat, I catch my bat;
Content with where each web is at.
And I am hummy-glum in gloom…
   Until…
I hear the dreadful chilling sound
   Of children -
     Up the stairs they bound
With awful, joyful sounds of giggling -
Their bodies, hands and lips all wiggling -
A disgusting and revolting sight
Made worse when they turn on the light!
I shiver-hide behind a box
Avoiding sounds of happy talks
Trying not to be so scared
Of children with their shiny hair.
Why don’t they have a webby do?
Why do they scream a silly “boo!”
When will they all just go away?
Spider wants to come and play.
But I can’t play until they go
  Wait…
    I know what to do
       And so…
I get my disappearing stuff
And mix it till it’s good enough,
Then slide it out for them to see.
They’ll think it is a bit of tea!
  Hee-hee!
They’ll see the potion,
   drink it up,
Till nothing’s left up here
   but cup!

Phew!
  Another scareful, monstrous day
Pretending children come to play...
I have to find my momma now;
I may have scared myself somehow.
  
Momma warns, “You’ll have daymares
     If you’re too scareful with play-scares!

By Donna JT Smith, 10/12/2019

It's Poetry Friday; please visit more poet and poems hosted at Tabatha Yeatts - The Opposite of Indifference.
I've been incredibly distracted and busy.  I am writing when I get a chance and/or an inspiration.  I have however found a writing workshop to participate in weekly, and am enjoying both the writing time and the time to mentally attend to things other than the day to day!  I wrote the post I am putting up for Noah (INoahCat.blogspot.com) at the last meeting...it went over well, so the "book" he is writing may be not bad...
I'm ready to continue finessing a "book" I've written, and a couple of picture books.  Maybe I will simply self-publish them to have them out there as finished copies for the grandkids at least!  Procrastinating is not a good thing, but I don't feel as much like it is procrastinating as it is running out of steam.  Time to fill the kettle again, and that's what I'm hoping the writing group will help with!
Thanks for reading and commenting. 

Saturday, October 5, 2019

Beauty - Spiritual Thursday in October

I had little time to write this week, but I did go buy beads for a couple more necklaces and bracelets that my grandchildren want to make.  We made some this past week with beads and supplies that I always have, but I got a hankering to get a few more beads, so my granddaughter and I headed to Jo-Ann's for some sparklies (and some not quite so sparkly for her brother).

As the background image for my words, I have the 4 strings she picked out for beading.  I wish I had a recording of her voice as she looked at all the beautiful beads to choose from!  I was surprised that it didn't take long to choose them - after we inspected every shimmering facet and glittery swirl of every bead in the store anyway!

As my 5 year old granddaughter says matter-of-factly, no hint of ego or vanity - "I'm pretty on the inside, because I like to be kind to people."  And that she is.

When a kindergartener on the first few days of school was crying as she waited for the school doors to open, Granddaughter came up close to her and told her what she did when she was sad..."Think of things you like, like unicorns and cotton candy!  That's what I do." And Granddaughter stayed by her and talked incessantly to cheer her up.

On the third day we got there, there was no more crying and the little girl was actively looking for my Granddaughter.

That's beauty.

And my verse:
I am late posting this, but life lets me do what I do what I can when I can...and now I can, so I'm doing.
And I shall post this late to both Thursday's "Spiritual Thursday" over at Karen Eastlund's blog, and Friday's "Poetry Friday" link ups at Cheriee Weichel's Library Matters!  You may have already seen them on FB as I posted there, too.


Friday, September 27, 2019

Her Hands

This was written a week and a half ago... and I updated the tense... life continues to be ever so slightly busy and off kilter...

"Yesterday" was a chaotic day of trying to decide if we had time, and could that time be stretched to cover all the bases.  It was decided that time would tear if stretched that far unless we used two people.
So my husband went alone to his dying mother's side, he was already more than half-way there in Southern Maine.  I'm glad that we could stretch it that far.  But I missed supporting my mother-in-law and my husband in this hour. 

She was not one to stand on ceremony and would tell you that you didn't need to attend any old funeral for her.  But I know in her heart she still would care.  My daughter and I made the 11+ hour drive to Presque Isle a week and a half ago for her service.  It was a long but leisurely drive once we got into Maine.  Half of the trip is outside of Maine, half is just Maine.
Northern Maine has not always been near and dear to my heart.  I didn't know it existed until I met my husband to be.  At that point I began learning about The County, and all the different types of potatoes and how the sky was just as big over oceans of potatoes as it is over the water. 
There are very few places in this world I could live besides near the ocean, and Aroostook County is one of them. My first year teaching was in the small town where my husband was born and spent his entire pre-marriage life.  Winters are cold, the snows are deep, and the wind howls as it piles up drifts over the roads and covers windows.

I will miss going up there for family gatherings.  Our connection is gone.  A strong woman has strode off into heaven.  She was plowing to the post.  She made it.   Straight and narrow... and now everything is opened up wide and beautiful... maybe even prettier than Aroostook County potato fields.

Her Hands

Her hands were gnarled
with veins like maps
of where she'd been
and beans she'd snapped.

They worked the fields
and picked the rocks
released from winter
fields unlocked.

From wet of bogs
To widest lands
Fiddleheads and berries
Knew her hands.
 
They hung the wash
on lines outside
Till County's heavenly
breezes dried.

Her hands could bake
and they could sew
They planted trees
and they could mow.

When came the fall,
and frosty weather
Her hands slipped into
Gloves of leather.

Katahdins, Mountains
From deep, rich soil -
Her hands helped glean
The County's oil.

Hand in hand
Beside her men -
God knows she'd
Do it all again.

And though her hands
are now at rest,
Proof still remains
her hands had blessed. 

by Donna JT Smith
(daughter-in-law)


It's Poetry Friday.  I'm late, but I've squeezed in a bit of poetry at the end.
Carol Varsalona at Beyond LiteracyLink is hosting today!

Z is for Zigzag and ZaniLa Rhyme

Welcome to the last day of the AtoZ Blogging Challenge! This year I am painted a watercolor to go with each letter and composed a poem to a...