Thursday, March 12, 2015

Pitch

https://twowritingteachers.wordpress.com/2015/03/12/sol15-day12/

Today is day 12 of 31 in the Slice of Life Challenge to write a slice each day in the month of March.
It is also the day to write a poem for the word "pitch" at Heidi Mordhorst's My Juicy Little Universe.
There are about 6 more hours to vote on the first "Flight" of poems.  The second "Flight" went up yesterday and are open for voting now, too.  Poems galore are on coming up in Ed DeCaria's Think Kid Think March Madness 2015!  So, so exciting.  I won't know the results until voting for Flight 1 closes just after noon.  Results of the first bout will be posted online, so you can see how your favorites did.  So stop in there and read and vote all month.  You can't get more free fun than this!
If you are here for Poem for Poetry Jam - prompt "Eyes", scroll to the bottom where my poem, "eyes", is located.

The Pitch

The salesman made the perfect pitch
and sold me on a tent ;
I called my friends they all pitched in
and in the van we went .
We drove down to the town boat launch,
put rowboat in the lake
A storm came up as we set out
which was our next mistake!
Our little rowboat pitched and rolled
more than a little bit -
We tossed our cookies in the lake
and pitched a whiny fit!
We tried to sing some sailing songs,
our voices swayed off key
Along the way to camp, I fear,
Our pitch was lost at sea!
To shore we rowed and rowed some more
and pitched the boat on land.
We tried to pitch our tent upright
But we were on wet sand.
Pitch black, and raining pitchforks
and hammer handles, too,
No flashlight, nor a candle,
What were we all to do?
The home-run pitch to pack it up
Was uttered from some lips
We crossed the water to the van
parked under pitch pine drips.
We pitched the tent into the back
to head home for a towel.
I aired the tent and washed the van -
proclaimed the pitch was foul.

 ©Donna JT Smith, 2015


Now the Slice - about pitch...and climbing pine trees!

This is not the right pine tree to climb!

The trees in the picture might have grown to be selected as one of the King's trees if we still did that today.  It's in my front yard.  The King's trees were white pines that were very tall and straight, with  branches that started up very high.  They were used to make ships' masts for the kIng's Royal Navy since they were tall, straight, strong and lightweight.  The last stand of these magnificent tall pine trees is in Brunswick at Bowdoin College.



White Pines have needles in clusters of 5.

Do you remember climbing pine trees?  Growing up in Maine, with the White Pine as the state tree and the pine cone as the state flower, we had our pick of quite a few.  The best ones had big, old limbs down low; you could not help but be tempted to climb and sit up high to secretly, silently watch the goings on around you.  There wasn't much actually going on, where we lived, though, so the spy game had to be just that - a game.  Nothing much to watch besides birds and clouds from up there - and other trees - and none of them did much to watch.  But there still was a thrill being up high, feeling the breeze clean and more cutting than from down on the ground.  The sky was prettier, too - you know - being that much closer to it. The added bonus was the smell of the pine - heavenly.  Just like those little stuffed pillows you can buy to place around your house so you think you are outside, maybe up in a tree.

With all the positives about the pine, the climb down was a real "let down".  First there was my mother's voice calling, "Get down out of that tree!"  She would then go sternly back in the house so she couldn't see you risking life and limb (yours, not the tree's), as you figured out where to place your feet to descend.

Up was definitely easier than down.  On the way up, you could see where your hands and feet should go, and you could keep your eyes focused up mostly.  Down was always looking to the ground below, trying to find a foothold and handholds.  You also had to be aware of the fact that pine trees lose dead branches pretty randomly, but the whole branch hardly ever breaks off.  There are sharp 1 inch to 10 inch dead spikes sticking out of these trees between good branches.  Deciding that you are almost to the bottom and dropping or jumping down the last 4 to 8 feet can be deadly if you hit one of the branches sticking out.  Side note as a mom:  My daughter did that and scraped her belly from bottom to top.  She was fortunate it was just a scrape and nothing worse.

Another thing against climbing down a pine was that the breeze, of course, changed back to just regular old breeze with no freedom ringing in it, and the heavy feeling of gravity took over again (in more ways than one - as my mother's reprimand could bring you down to earth pretty fast).

The other negative about climbing the old white pines was the pitch.  By the time you got down, you had double the pitch on you that you had when you got to the top.  There would be pitch on your britches from sitting on a branch, and pitch on your hands, arms and shins.  This pitch was semi-permanent, only coming off as you created new skin.  An aside secret here: if you hadn't taken a bath in a couple of days, the pitch was more likely to come off when you washed up, because you already had dead skin under the pitch...our neighbors never could get pitch off, but we usually did.
Pitch was sticky, so it picked up dirt.  So if you had more playing to do, it worked to scrub your hands in dirt to cover the pitch.  If your hands were too dirty and your mother noticed, you would have to wash them before eating, exposing the pitch again.  It tasted horrible, so you didn't want to forget at supper and lick the ketchup off your finger where the pitch was hiding just below the tasty red stuff.  It would have been better to eat with ground in dirt on your hands.
All in all though, it was worth every scratch, every reprimand, every bit of pine pitch flavored supper.
I wish I could climb a tree again.

Link to Robert Louis Stevenson's Foreign Lands poem about climbing a tree - he was "my poet to read" when I was a kid.

Poem for Poetry Jam - prompt "Eyes"

eyes

The eye of the potato
to other plants gives birth;
The eye of the tornado -
destruction on the earth!
Hurricanes can have an eye,
and needles have one, too.
Mothers have four - two in back -
to keep an eye on you! 

©Donna JT Smith, 2015

Done for today!  Now to close my eyes...Diarrhea Dog kept waking me up all night for trips outside in the snow.  I could almost do the whole procedure lids locked if I needed to.



Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Smooch

https://twowritingteachers.wordpress.com/2015/03/11/sol15-day11/ 

This is Day 11 of the Slice of Life 31 Day Challenge at Two Writing Teachers! I'm slicing on some of the past, present and future for "smooch", and I've written a diamante for smooch for Heidi Mordhorst's March challenge at My Juicy Little Universe! 
And last but not least, the poems are being posted on EdDeCaria's ThinkKidThink Tournament of poetry: March Madness Poetry Tournament 2015.  Voting is open today!

Smooch

Mama’s kiss
Soft, tender,
Healing, soothing, loving
Good-morning, all better, good-bye, I love you, good-night
Teasing, chuckling, tickling
Loud, whiskery
Grandpa’s smooch!


I wish I remembered better my grandfather's smooch!  I am not sure I ever did actually get a kiss from him.  I do not remember a hug.  I do not remember the touch of his hand, though I do remember his fisherman hands.   

For that matter, I do not remember a kiss or hug from my grandmother.  I didn't realize it until I was an adult, and they were long gone, that they had not been very demonstrative people. 

They didn't babysit for us, though a few times we stayed overnight at their house on the ocean after a day of visiting.  Our parents would leave us there, and they had the night off (4 kids by the time they were 27 - they needed time off).  But when we were visiting, there were no bedtime stories.  There were trips on the boat, and lessons in lobstering and fishing from my grandfather.  Then there were lessons on sewing and cooking from my grandmother.  But there were no toys or books in a corner for when we, the grandkids, would be there.  It sounds strange, but I mostly played with rocks and other found treasures from the ocean.

We were well loved though.  We could feel that.  We just didn't get hugs and kisses from them.  This is how I know that it is okay to just be who you are - kids know when someone loves them, even if they don't get that hug.

That being said, I think it's easier to know, so I'm trying to be more of a huggy kind of person. I'm not naturally a hugger.  It takes determination and awareness, and a certain vulnerability or openness, on my part.  I'm hoping that my grandchildren will have a different memory of me than I have of my grandparents (not that the memories were bad!), so I give my grandchildren plenty of hugs, smooches, book readings and lego building when I see them.  I know they will know I love them anyway, but I want them to feel a grandparent's hug.  I want them to get great big smooches - ones that will last a lifetime.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

A Woman's Work is Never Done

Two Writing Teachers SOL

A Woman's Work is Never Done

A little bleach, a lot of soap;
So why the dirt and grime again?
I scrubbed it twenty years ago -
Why should it need recleaning then?

©Donna JT Smith, 2015

Ah, I got my -ch word "sketch" poem for Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe.  I was on the old list word when I posted the word "bleach" above.
Oh, my sketch and her two partners here help make plenty of work for me...if I thought my work was ever going to be done, they have made me rethink it.

Every other Wednesday evening, I have a marvelous housecleaner come in.  She isn't just any housecleaner.  She was originally my daughter's friend.  But when my daughter moved away, and her friend got married and moved into a house quite close to ours by Maine standards, she came to be a good friend of mine, too.

On those Wednesdays I get to have tea and conversation with her before she starts.  I give her a list of things that I can't do or don't want to do.  She vacuums, damp mops, washes and fills the dogs' big water jug, dusts, wipes down walls and railings, and washes windows and mirrors.  Some of these things I can do, and some, like standing on chairs to dust light fixtures and carrying a 2 or 3 gallon jug of water for the dogs are things I shouldn't be doing.

Last week I got an idea.  It was a great one.  I have this corner cabinet in the kitchen that does not have a Lazy Susan in it - just two shelves and lots of stuff in it I haven't been able to reach in ages.  So I had her take everything out so I could sort it and she could put back only those things I still needed and wanted, and put them in order.  ORDER.  Love that word.  I now have a clean cabinet and a pile of baking pans to go to Goodwill.

And because that worked out so slick, and it's still in good order (I am sooo loving it with everything neat and easy to reach), I decided this week to tackle Under the Sink.  That is capitalized because it is a real place!  And it is a not nice place.  I had old coffee cans, yogurt cups, plastic lids, vases, bottles, jars, cleaning items, and dish soaps of all kinds down there.  Except for the cleaning items that all people have, it looked like a teacher lived in this house - if it was something that could potentially be repurposed for paints or constructing something crafty, then I had it.  Sometimes it is not pretty being a teacher of first grade.

Forget you ever knew this about me!
So after vacuuming, I opted for going to Under the Sink instead of dusting today.  I sat at the kitchen table while she pulled everything out onto the kitchen floor.  Then I stuffed all recyclables into a trash bag for taking to the center, threw away those things that couldn't be recycled, and then handed her a large plastic Lazy Susan that I'd bought at Lowe's the day before.  She put things back for me, and now - Wow!  I'm like organized.  I'm feeling really good about my cabinets now.   I may have company over just so I can show them Under the Sink.

And this is how it looks even now, this very moment:

I want you to always think of me this way!
I love it.  Under the Sink is now a good place to be!

I have already mentioned to her that the foyer closet may need help next time she is out.  It's such a great feeling to have order in your life.  Of course, all order in my life is only temporary, but I can dream.

P.S.: First round of voting on poems for March Madness 2015 begins tonight at 8 pm central.  More poems are being added by a second group by midnight tonight to continue the madness.  Polls are open ALL DAY tomorrow.  If you go there, you will want to make sure you have time to read, because once you start, you won't want to stop!  The poems are short - only 8 lines max!  Who can't take time to read a short kids' poem or 32?




Monday, March 9, 2015

Unhitch

https://twowritingteachers.wordpress.com/2015/03/09/sol15day9/
The first line of this reminded me of when we were kids...
We had an old wagon on our lawn that used to be pulled by a horse. It was what they called a buckboard wagon.  We had no horse, but that didn't stop us from pushing the wagon and hopping aboard to take a ride down our driveway.  I believe we did that when our parents weren't home from work yet, but we had gotten home from school and had a few extra minutes to fill...
We found so many ways to almost get hurt.


Unhitch

Hitch up the wagon we're ready to roll...
hitch up your britches or you'll catch a cold...
hitch this to that so it'll be stronger...
hitch that to this to make it be longer...

Unhitch the wagon, put horses away...
unhitch your britches, it's been a long day...
unhitch the ropes and unhitch the ties...
unhitch the the sun, the moon's on the rise!

Okay, that came out in one fell, unhitched swoop.  Ready or not!

It is Monday. And the March Madness 2015 at Ed DeCaria's has begun.  I have my word (well, I don't really - I am writing this BEFORE the madness, because I am pretty sure I am not going to be able to think of anything but my word for the tournament poem today, and making sure I post it on time).
Please stop in at ThinkKidThink.com and vote for your favorite brand new kid's poem beginning Tuesday night, March 10, and continuing through noonish on Thursday, March 12.  Here's the calendar of events.

Yes, I'm in the tournament - so far!  Of course, I'd love to have your vote... but, no, I'm not begging, telling or asking you to vote for me.  I am just saying that I think you should read all the poems created by dozens of poets using dozens of words.  It's going to be awesome! Then I think you should cast your votes on the ones you thought were best for children 5-15ish.  Hey, I don't even know what I'm writing yet.  It isn't even today for me.  It's five days ago.  Remember?  I had to schedule this blog post!

Have a great week.
Oh, this is a Slice of Life at Two Writing Teachers - the link is through the orange slice at the top of the page.
And the poem is part of Heidi Mordhorst's month long challenge at My Juicy Little Universe to write poems with words ending in ch.  Today's word was "unhitch".  I added "hitCH" and "britCHes" for good measure!

*Note:  words were changed and I just noticed - sorry!  Today was changed to Preach.  And tomorrow's "bleach" I have written already, and (YIPES!) that was switched, too.  I'll see what I can do, but I may not be able to get back to them to rewrite at this point!  I'm probably going to be busy with another word and reading with second graders.

Have a great day all!  I'll try to connect with everyone's comments by midnight.


Sunday, March 8, 2015

Sunday's Word and Slice is ChurCH

https://twowritingteachers.wordpress.com/2015/03/07/sol15-day7/

This is my SOL for Sunday at Two Writing Teachers. 

Because it is Sunday, I have no time to slice or comment until evening.  So this is pre-scheduled, and I will come back later to comment on others who have left comments for me sometime after 8 pm. Have a wonderful day!  I'm planning on having one myself!

I am anxiously awaiting my word to use in a kid's poem for Ed DeCaria's March Madness 2015. Tonight I get my challenge word and will begin writing a poem Monday morning after hopefully sleeping on the word. I say "hopefully" because if something comes to me, I'll probably be up all night writing instead of sleeping.  And I hate when that happens.

I did write an acrostic for a -CH word for Heidi Mordhurst at My Juicy Little Universe, even though there isn't a word for today.  ChurCH just seemed to fit the bill!  For good measure, I made it a Double Reverso Acrostic Shape poem... I just made that up... It can be read both ways and is in the shape of a church. (note that it says church backwards and forwards across the bottom.

A Double Reverso Acrostic Shape Poem!

Again, have a WONDERFUL DAY!  Yes, I'm shouting... because I really want you to hear me!  It is a wonderful day, even in light of any negatives that may slide in there to interfere with your immediate happiness.

Thanks for dropping by today!  I really do appreciate everyone who stops in.  I've met some great new bloggers this year already, in addition to hearing from "old friends" (not old like I am, just that some of you I've come to know for four years, going on five now - well, that DOES make you quite a bit older than you were when I met you, though - I'm still the same age.)!

Saturday, March 7, 2015

Screw Medicine

https://twowritingteachers.wordpress.com/2015/03/10/sol15day10/

It's Saturday and with this post, one week is written. It is not a -ch poem day, so I have to come up with something on my own... and I choose "muCH" and "hunCH"!

My grandson and daughter had the gastrointestinal glitch that I wrote about this past week.  The next day they were feeling quite a bit better, but her 3 year old son kept asking her for more of the "screw medicine".

Screw Medicine

I need a little medicine;
the stuff you said to use  -
not the grape-y liquid, but
the ones that look like screws.
I'm feeling somewhat better from
my knees down to my toes;
but my hunch is that I need to take
just one or two of those.
Screw medicine is really good
for when I'm sick in bed,
It makes me feel much better
from my knees up to my head!

 ©Donna JT Smith, all rights reserved

With that line for breaking them in half, they do look like the heads of screws!  I never noticed. Leave it to a three year old.

Friday, March 6, 2015

Catch, Fetch, Lunch

Two Writing Teachers
This post is doing TRIPLE DUTY!  Wow!  It's a Slice of Life (click the button above), a Poetry Friday contribution hosted by Robyn Campbell and a -CH poem challenge for My Juicy Little Universe hosted by Heidi Mordhorst.

Keep your eyes on the snowball! Wait for it...wait for it...
Catch, Fetch, Lunch

I'm going to snatch this snowball
And bring it back to you!
I love to play fetch all the time;
I know just what to do!

I'm catching it - it's coming!
I've got it in my sights!
But it's so cold and tasty;
It's in such nice sized bites!

I'm sorry I can't fetch it;
I feel the need to crunch
Next time just throw a real ball
So I won't think it's...
CRUNCH...
lunch!

Our pup, Ginger, that I bought for my husband for Christmas, has a heart of gold - or I guess more like yellow, being a Yellow Lab.  However, she's destroyed all the stuffed animals that our twelve year old Golden Retriever, Pippi, has had most of her life.  Pippi chews nothing - not even dog chew toys with enticing squeakers, or flavored with tasty beef and chicken.  She will carry them around until her saliva gets them all soft and disgusting.  Pippi, like many Golden's, has a very soft mouth and gently carries toys around and cuddles them.  Her toys have always been actual stuffed animal toys for kids.  Winnie the Pooh, a swan, a Cabela's Golden Retriever puppy, a lion, an elephant and a fish.  As of today, we have the elephant left.*  Winnie's nose went last night.  The fish's snout was gone this morning.  I feel sorry for Pippi.  Toys she's had for 7 years or more have been destroyed in less than three months.

Except for "don't chew up stuffed animals", Ginger has learned quite a few commands.  She's known "sit" and "stay" for a long time now.  She also knows "down", "crate", "come" and "go potty".  She does "fetch" unless it is one of my socks, a receipt or a tissue, though she is getting better at coming to me when she has some contraband.  She has her very-good-dog moments and her not-so-cute-gotta love-her-she's-a-puppy times which seem longer than the other moments some days!

Meanwhile, I have learned quite a few things, too.  I'm learning not to keep my socks on the floor, to keep tissues up high or just throw them away, and hang the dishtowels higher than the oven door handle.  And receipts go in recycling unless we need them, and then they get files somewhere besides on the kitchen table where they get knocked to the floor.

Ginger loves the snow.  Most of the area where the dogs run has been packed down well so she can stay on top of it.  I shoveled a bathroom for her the first few times it snowed, and it has stayed packed down low enough to use through most of the storms without doing more shoveling. Her other option would have to be tunneling.

Her favorite outdoor winter games are playing "Dig to the Center of the Earth" (the tunneling option), "Grab a Twig Off a Tree",  "Hold the Leash in Your Mouth and Act Like an Idiot", and "Run Up the Snowbank and Pretend You See Something Important on the Other Side".  All of them involve running a lot.  Some of them involve getting scolded at some point.

She IS a great dog, and no matter what I've just scolded her for, she looks at me with soulful eyes and drops down to lie at my feet.  She may simply be checking for more socks, but I think she likes me.  I called her last night from the kitchen into the livingroom where I was sitting watching TV.  She came tearing into the room and leaped with all four feet off the floor - like you see dogs jumping into water - and landed smack in the ...I'd say smack in the middle of my lap, but she's getting so big.  I survived her flying lap dog impression.
Sometimes I think she's studying to be a human.
* Update:  Unfortunately, just before posting, the elephant was trunk-ate-d by the adorable puppy you see above.  I know, it's hard to believe.  

Thursday, March 5, 2015

Punch of Sun Day 5


Slice of Life: Two Writing Teachers
This even looks like the sun!
t;&g                                        
                                                           A Punch of Sun

                                                      Packing a wallop
                                                          Up in the sky
                                                            Noontime it reaches
                                                          Cerulean; 
                                                      High.

Here's hoping for a Punch of Sun soon!
On Wednesday we got 5 more inches (maybe 6) of the white, heavy snowball-making snow.  This was a more typical snow for us on the coast.  It is often very wet snow, not the dry stuff that blows around.
This comes from the warmer (yeah, right!) temperatures off the ocean.  It's hard to believe that it is warmer in the ocean now than sitting in a snowbank, but it is.
These snows now will melt more quickly even without the actual warmer temperatures.  The sun is out longer and it's higher in the sky, so shining more directly onto that irritatingly cold and white particulate matter that is now one huge lump of snowcone crystals.
One of my favorite things to do in spring is to find a stray patch of leftover snow, break it apart and scatter it to quicken its melting.  Obliteration as inspiration...now there's a poem idea...Maybe next Sunday!

Visit more bloggers at Two Writing Teachers by punching the orange slice at the top of the page.
Then go see Heidi Mordhorst at My Juicy Little Universe where there are more poems with punch.

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Twitch of Sick - Day 4 SOL

Two Writing Teachers SOL Day 4!  Check out other slices there.

Twitch of Sick

When I awoke this morning, I was feeling pretty low
and then I knew just where it was I really had to go -

The supper last night was a feast and tasted most delish;
no doubt, it was, when it went in a meal that was nutrish.

In my belly plans were changed, a new itinerary:
stop at tummy, turn around, a U-turn’s necessary.

I almost made it all the way I raced to lift the lid;
“Sorry, mom, I know I missed, I’m just a little kid.”

- a kid who has a not so funny, rumbly tummy twitch;
a twitch perhaps is not the word - a gastrointestinal glitch?

My Juicy Little Universe - poetry challenge using words ending in CH.  Today's word: Twitch

My daughter texted me this morning, that she and her 3 year old son were "throwing up"...  So my poem today changed from twitch in a spring poem, to one about vomiting.  Nice change, huh?
She is far away, and my first thought was, she needs me.  How can she take care of herself and her son AND keep the baby cared for and uninfected? Besides, she's my child!
In a few seconds the next text came through:
"I wouldn't want you to get sick, but this still makes me want my mommy."
Sigh.
Wish we lived closer.

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Little by Inch Day 3

Oooh, spring?
OOOOOHHHH!  Yesterday was my 600th post!  Today is obviously 601...now I have to wait 99 more times before I can celebrate!  Sigh.  How did I miss that?

This is a Slice of Life for:
Two Writing Teachers SOL Day 3!  Check out other slices there.
The poem also is part of a challenge at

Stretch Little-By-Inch

I wrote for myself
And some to the sky;
I wrote as if no one should
Hear me walk by.
Little by inch,
My thoughts opened wider
Till someone exclaimed,
“We can see what's inside her!”
No one was laughing,
They didn’t leave,
Everyone stayed there;
I heard myself heave
a sigh of relief,
and then I wrote more
and started a stretch
that opened a door -
a door that will only
close at the end when -
my “Once upon” time
with flourish of pen
concludes with “happily”,
“ever” and “after”
and signs off "Sincerely,
Word-happy Crafter".

And that is how my writing happened...
My Doctor Bag all set to go

Now for yesterday, come to think of it, it's all a part of the process in the poem, too - STRETCHING...

I was hoping for some good bit of slice for today.  It was "Read Across America" day and Dr. Seuss' Birthday.  Our schools here, as with most others across the nation, had volunteer readers from the communities come in to talk about why reading is important to them and then read to the students.

Being a teacher forever, I was the one to have a volunteer reader come into my classroom and read to my class; being retired, I am the volunteer going into someone's classroom to read.

I made a bold move (my stretch) and decided I would share my poetry writing with them, telling them about my love of poetry that started an early age with the poems of Robert Louis Stevenson.

So I did.

I arrived at the second grade classroom 10 minutes ahead of schedule, carrying a bag holding my work AND some other poetry books just in case my poetry fell flat.  If my poetry didn't capture their attention, then I'd dazzle them with a "real" author/writer!

I pulled out some papers I had printed up.  I told them these were some poems I was working on, that I had one poem written four times as I worked to get it the way I wanted it.  I heard "Hey, just like we do!" and saw the student turn to his teacher for validation.  Heads nodded all around the room.

Before I read my poem "Seasonings of Spring", I asked them what the meanings of season could be, and they knew the for seasons meaning easily, and one said there was a cooking meaning, too.  Yea - it wasn't too hard!   At the end someone said it also sounded like planting a garden.  I said that it did, and maybe he could write a "recipe" poem sometime.  From his smile, I think he might just do that!

I read a riddle poem about a mitten I wrote this week.  Maybe they could try a riddle poem someday.  Every time I read a poem, they listened and laughed like "I got it" at the end, just the way I'd hoped.
Each time I asked what a poem meant or what some of the words meant, they made intelligent guesses, figured it out or just outright knew.

What a delight they were!  They were listening, contributing, "getting it" and sat still for more.  I could not have asked for a better audience.

Then I bravely pulled out my book, "Winter Ways".  I explained to them that I had written the poems in this book and had taken the pictures.  I even told them how helpful my husband was at stopping the car and letting me take pictures when I saw a great shot.
I began to read from the book.  I watched with wonder as they listened, reacted and wanted more.  I grinned with pleasure as they discussed meanings of words, point of view, types of poems, shapes of poems, rhyming, rhythm...oh, just EVERYTHING near and dear to my heart.

They got it.  They liked it.  They wanted me to read more.  They wanted me to read some poems twice.

I left 10 minutes later than I was scheduled.  Two students walked me back down the hall to the office.  One of them turned to me as we walked and said, "You're a good writer."  And I said, "Thank you!" (Wow...they said I was a writer!)

They were supposed to be on the receiving end of this exchange.  If they got half as much out of this experience as I did, I'd be ecstatic because that would mean they got plenty - I was overflowing.

I know, they're in second grade.  I know, I've taught.  I know, they are kind.  Kids always say very nice things about what adults can do even when it may not be that great to another adult.  But I'm gratefully and humbly accepting their appreciation.

Now on to those books of spring and summer poems.  They thought it would be a good idea.

Let's see...I need something to rhyme with spring...
Isn't spring a great word?


Monday, March 2, 2015

MarCHing Forward

Today is Slice of Life Day 2.  Yea!
And I'm also participating in Heidi Mordhorst's challenge at My Juicy Little Universe, writing to a word prompt (each ending with "ch") five days a week this month.

For March 2, the first CH word is: MARCH.

-Ma Nature’s spring -
-Arch of birch,
"Rah!” and “Ah!” - cheers and whispered sighs for the
-Charm of a sweet, soft, “No
-Harm” breeze.

Poem explained:
I chose to do an acrostic with March AND use the letters found in March to make the first word of each line.  So "Ma" and "Arch" are in "March"...etc.  I wrote the words you can make from the word "March" in green.

And just a wee bit more explanation...
Though I'm not big on the image of a Mother (Ma) Nature, it works for the poem.  The "Rah" and "Ah" ("Ah" also having letters in "March", though not the first word) are for the charm of a wonderful, softer, "no harm" breeze than we've had in winter.
I'm sure you got that all from my poem, but I was a little insecure about it.  It's a little like explaining a joke.  If you have to explain it, it isn't one.

If you have to explain a poem, is it still a poem?  I think it is.  I often don't understand poems until someone explains them to me.  I can't believe none of them are poems just because I don't get them.

A fun CH bird is the Black-Capped Chickadee - the state bird of Maine.  Two of them were just in my rose bushes just outside the front windows acting a bit bouncy and like they had cabin fever even though they are outside.  They flitted and flirted around amongst the thorns before flying off to find another tangled bush to play in.

Last week someone had posted a picture of a tree with no turkeys in it (you know who you are - but I can't remember now!)...there had been turkeys in it, but they had just all flown away when the picture was snapped.  That's how I felt with these chickadees.
Just flitting out of the picture - upper left

Got him here though!

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Have a Slice of Ice?

Some of our lesser icicles...
It's the beginning of the March Slice of Life Challenge - The challenge is to write a snippet of life each day for the whole month, post your link to Two Writing Teachers and read other Slicers' offerings each day.  I have been doing this challenge each March for the past four years  - year Number Five starts today!

I've been waiting for March 1, so I could say this:

Have a Slice of Ice?

February's over
March is BEGUN.
Let's hear laughter,
Let's have FUN!
Days are longer.
With more SUN.
Ice will melt...
Duck and RUN!

On Wednesday last week I was outside, and the sun was shining brightly; and though it was still very cold out, the icicles on our house were dripping and looking a little melty around the edges.  We have had literally "killer icicles" on our eaves this year.  Mostly we watch them grow for a bit and then knock them off.
However, one icicle started forming on the surface of the house under the porch roof.  Water was seeping down between the edge of the roof and the house right beside a window.  I'm surprised, but I don't think I took a picture of it on the house.
At any rate, this icicle was growing daily and there was no way to get it off without doing some damage to the side of the house.  So we left it.  Until Wednesday came along with a bit o' sun.  I had to take the puppy out, and on my way back in I looked at the icicle.   It looked like it might be working itself loose a little.  I put my fingers under the edges, first one side of the 10 inch span, then the other.  I could get my fingers under it a little farther than I'd been able to, but it still wasn't budging.  Fine.  Leave it there.
But then I noticed that the ice at the bottom kind of went off the edge of the porch over some of the stacked wood I'd put there the night before one of our blizzards in case we lost power.  I decided to chip it off the wood and maybe it would even help it drip and drain away.  As I shoveled and scraped it a bit, I was bent over beside the icicle. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement and realized in an instant what was happening.  The 8 foot long icicle was dislodging and falling directly toward me!
I put up my hand to deflect the huge column of ice and scooted backward just in time to mostly miss it.  As I pushed on the falling chunk of ice, it broke above my head.  I must have deflected it upwards, because it made another attempt at me. So I raised my other hand (the one with the shovel in it) and clunked myself on the head with the shovel handle for good measure, as I tried to protect my head yet again from that stubborn chunk of ice.

My hand was scraped up pretty nicely, and I had a sore head, but the ice missed knocking me out... or worse.  I looked at the ice on the porch, now broken into foot-long pieces about 10-12 inches wide and 2 to 3 inches deep.  I went into the house and put cold, cold water on my throbbing, stinging hand and wrist, ignoring my head because it wasn't bleeding and didn't hurt more than my hand yet, and then got the scales to take outside onto the porch.  Each broken piece weighed 10 or more pounds.  I figure there was a good 30 pound portion that had aimed at my head as I had bent over in front of it scraping the porch.
My hand is still a little sore, my head has a bruise on the top, and I'm a little more wary of icicles.  But all in all I'm here to write a happy ending to a Slice of Ice!

These are not your freezer ice cubes...

Friday, February 27, 2015

RePost and New

Linking to Poetry Friday at Heidi's "My Juicy Little Universe and putting out a call for poets and classrooms to participate in March Madness 2015!


Moon and icicle sky from my porch

Here's the repost from Monday part (see below for an actual poem AND a rewrite of it I did this morning - forgetting that I'd added to it already online, so now you have two poems that start the same and end differently):
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Ed DeCaria at Think, Kid Think is starting the March Madness poetry writing tournament beginning on March 8. Click on the link to go there to learn more about it and see who's in it this year (I made it!).  That's the day the poets in the line-up will receive their unique word and write a kid's poem that includes that word.  The first voting round will be on March 12, when poetry lovers of all ages and registered classrooms will be able to vote on their favorite poems.  The winners of each round will go on to compete until on April 2 there is one poet left standing.

I will at least be competing in the first round!  Yea!  Maybe I'll move on to the next round - that would be exciting!

Hope you will consider joining in on the reading and voting.  It is going to be a fun month!
Who knows...maybe spring will show up in the middle of it!
Heh, heh, heh....that was kind of funny...
Welcome back to school - returning to school after Feb. Break yesterday
We are so far under snow, we might as well keep our skis and snowshoes on until next Christmas.  This may be the summer of the snowpants.

I Wear My Snowpants in July

I always wear a nice warm hat
atop my freezing head;
Winter's not the only time
I've come to really dread.
In Maine we never can rely
on days for bathing suits -
I wear my snowpants in July,
in August don warm boots.
Though summer days are longer
It would be finer fun
if we could shed these longjohns
And get warmth from the sun.
Perhaps before the snow flies
this batch will melt and go,
And we will make sand castles
instead of forts of snow.

©Donna JT Smith
New Portion
The Second Rendition

I always wear a nice warm hat
atop my freezing head;
Winter's not the only time
I've come to really dread.

In Maine we never can rely
On days for bathing suits;
I wear my snowpants in July,
in August wear my boots.

In midst of June under the moon
My socks cover cold toes;
At break of day my scarf goes on
to wrap ‘round ears and nose.

It isn’t always quite this way,
There isn’t any reason
Not to enjoy the one warm day
We have out of this season.

Put on your bathing suit that day
Get out there in the sun
On July fourth, I’m sad to say,
Summer started and is done.

©Donna JT Smith, 2015

So if you were to pick, which one would it be and why -  The first poem or the second?

Monday, February 23, 2015

March Madness Poetry 2015 Soon

Linking to Slice of Life Tuesday - and putting out a call for teachers to get their students excited about poetry by registering and participating in March Madness 2015!

Ed DeCaria at Think, Kid Think is starting the March Madness poetry writing tournament beginning on March 8. Click on the link to go there to learn more about it and see who's in it this year (I made it!).  That's the day the poets in the line-up will receive their unique word and write a kid's poem that includes that word.  The first voting round will be on March 12, when poetry lovers of all ages and registered classrooms will be able to vote on their favorite poems.  The winners of each round will go on to compete until on April 2 there is one poet left standing.

I will at least be competing in the first round!  Yea!  Maybe I'll move on to the next round - that would be exciting!

Hope you will consider joining in on the reading and voting.  It is going to be a fun month!
Who knows...maybe spring will show up in the middle of it!
Heh, heh, heh....that was kind of funny...
Welcome back to school - returning to school after Feb. Break yesterday
We are so far under snow, we might as well keep our skis and snowshoes on until next Christmas.  This may be the summer of the snowpants.

I always wear a nice warm hat
atop my freezing head;
Winter's not the only time
I've come to really dread.
In Maine we never can rely
on days for bathing suits -
I wear my snowpants in July,
in August don warm boots.
Though summer days are longer
It would be finer fun
if we could shed these longjohns
And get warmth from the sun.
Perhaps before the snow flies
this batch will melt and go,
And we will make sand castles
instead of forts of snow.





Friday, February 20, 2015

Sound Poem Day 20

This is a submission to Author Amok's 2015 poem-a-day sounds project.  Here are the guidelines for participating. 
For Day 20, the prompt was write to the sound of the reptile you chose.  My choice: The Common Garter Snake - which is plentiful in Maine.
Common Garter Snake -- Thamnophis sirtalis

S s
     ss            i i
         s s    i i       l         l  
             i i            e    t     y
                              n

I crawl to be
        over rocks
             and under tree
                  and then I stop
    and all you heard
        was the
           crinkly word
                  of a leaf
                       I crossed or a
               crossing bee.
        you won’t
                hear
                   me.

Solitude or Loneliness, Who Cares Which?

It's Poetry Friday and hosted by someone I like to think of as a friend that I have never met but feel like I know - Linda Baie at Teacherdance.  If you don't know Linda yet, go there to meet her and make a new friend!  Oh, and find more poetry linkups there, too.
Additionally, on Wednesday the new Poetry Jam prompt was issued... "Write about loneliness or solitude."  I have written a poem to address the issue.


Solitude or Loneliness, Who Cares Which?

I’m all alone at home again
I’m writing, and I’ve
tried
to ignore the constant scuffling
of two dogs by my
side,
and then there is the white cat
being obviously
denied
access to his sleeping place
and where he likes to
hide.
Oh, I talk to them - they listen with
their heads cocked to one
side.
So if I say I’m lonesome
I'd have have to say I’ve
lied.
My days are not my own,
I could use some
solitude.
Can't say that I don't like my pets;
I'd never be that
rude,
But when I try to gather thoughts
they carelessly
intrude,
And all my writings and my dreams
seem to be pet
imbued.
Solitude or loneliness -
oh, does it matter
which?
I think that either one might
surely cure me of this
twitch.
But then of course I’d lack excuse
for a poetic
glitch.

©Donna JT Smith, 2015

Thursday, February 19, 2015

You Think You Want Spring?


At the request of Lynn Proctor over at "My Life as Lynn Proctor", who commented on yesterday's posted poem called "Icicled Sight", I have written a poem as she requested, but the topic of which she did not request.  She requested a spring poem, but when I tried to write one, having just read the weather forecast and looking out over all the snow - which would make it very easy to jump out a window right now (like maybe you'd want to after this winter!) and not get hurt - I ended up with another winter poem.  And as I told her, I will try again later when the weathermen stop saying, "Here, have just another little bite of snow!"

So to make the ado short, here is what I came up with on short notice under duress of more snow...speaking of which, here we are this morning...one more time...everybody sing!
Snow, snow, I love snow, I'm absolutely, positively wild about snow.  Can't go around it I gotta go through...I said EVERYBODY sing!


You Think You Want Spring?
*****
So you think you want spring
with its goodness and light?
You think you want daffodils
and shortness of night?
Well, I hear your desire
I know of your plight,
But winter’s not over
it still has some fight.
*****
And so in your dreams
you’ll have to make do
with visions of daffy’s
and dandy-lions, too;
For gray skies are here -
they're still not true blue -
and we will be freezing
until they are due.
*****
No matter the shovels,
roof rakes and backaches;
We’ll just have to settle for
blossoming flakes,
The snow dunes on pathways
and ice caps on lakes;
Blizzards and snow squalls
 are what winter makes.
*****
You think you want spring now,
so this deep freeze should go?
Sorry, but winter has
more snowballs to throw
And if not for our winter
how would we know
How precious the spring
made from melting of snow?
*****
©Donna JT Smith, 2-18-2015

I will, I will, I will...do a spring poem soon.
I hope.
Stay warm and dry just a little bit longer.
We can do it.
We can do it.
Want to try to sing the snow song again?

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Icicled Sight

 
As we drove by on our way home on Saturday, I spied this house.  It just looked so much like the icicles were keeping the owners from escaping, or from intruders entering (not sure which).

I had to go back to take a picture.

And then I had to write this Monorhyme...a poem in which all the lines have the same end rhyme.

Icicled Sight

We quietly dripped through the night
As long we grew and held on tight,
To mimic cavern's stalactite,
And gain immense reverso height.
Once waking, you beheld your plight
Behind our bars of icy white,
And seeing this, forsook the fight,
Submitting to our gripping bite.
Imprisoned in the dark of night
For no good reason but for spite
(Or maybe just because we might)!
You must remain till sun grows bright
And we are feeling more contrite
Then we will melt, allowing flight,
And you can once again feel light;
And all the world will seem just right
As rain, with butterflies and kite
Instead of snow and icy blight.
But don't forget next year's invite,
'Cus your dismay is our delight.

©Donna JT Smith, 2015

Here's my husband braving the frigid temps and the hip deep snow to remove our icicle imprisonment.  Good thing he had snowshoes!  He tried it without, but you can't get anywhere when you sink to your belt.  BTW, that bit of shrubbery you see poking up is a part of our 5 foot high beach rose bush at the front of our house...there's a lot more where that came from.  You wouldn't want to just try to wade through three feet of thorns hidden beneath the snow!


It's a Slice of Life Tuesday, so go see what's happening in others' lives and maybe look at some Slicer Swag!

Icicles on the side of our house - the corner ones are only a couple of inches off the snow - reaching from ceiling height to interior floor - 8 feet long.


Sunday, February 15, 2015

Might Not Be Able to Go to Church Today

It's a blustery, blizzardy day today, and we could not make the trip in to church.  But that did not prevent us from reading devotions.  First thing this morning I wrote a bit of a thought, too.  So if you can't make it to church today either, don't forget to take it to God.

God in Me or I in God

When I stand alone
I am surprised
that I do not always remember
to muster with prayer
and awaken my spirit to
the Spirit of God
For it is then that He fills
and floods my insides
welling up
expanding until there is no more room
and He seeps out
flowing through pores,
an Invisible River
of Goodness and Peace
He surrounds me,
encompasses me
hedges me
with his Power and Comfort
until every fiber
every molecule
every atom of my being
is comforted,
caressed,
consoled
by His presence
and I am In Him
as He is In Me; 
And that is how 
I know
Heaven
will be.

Saturday, February 14, 2015

My Love is Not LIke a Red, Red Rose

It’s Valentine’s Day
a day for sweet cards
and chocolates
or wordy candies
and red, red roses
and softly scented candles -
A day for sweetheart kisses
and unexpected hugs
or a whisper
that tugs
on your heart;
but I will settle for -
...no...
I will crave -
an omelet
fried potatoes
a cup of strong coffee
a small oj
and my son
to join the two of us
for breakfast
at our favorite diner;
for there are
no finer times
than those real
life moments
to get sappy
over.


Happy Valentine's Day!

Friday, February 13, 2015

Cold Meet Cold

Cold Morning in Maine - today

Cold Meet Cold

cold of ocean
ocean deep
cold meet cold
where snowbanks steep
cover rocks
and seaweeds creep
where cold meets
cold
and icicles greet
the ground
and reach
to frozen beach
shaking hands
seas and lands
shivering timbers
quivering sands
meeting up with
silvery bands
and slivery strands
of ice and snow
where men may go
where no
one could set foot
before the throes
of winter snows.

©Donna JT Smith, 2015

Snow is over halfway up most everyone's doors - including our garage doors. Our house sits pretty high, so it is keeping our doors and windows free of snow.  The icicles are impressive, too.

 And after one blizzard and a couple major snowstorms and a bunch of minor multiple inches of snow, we are being readied for a second blizzard starting tomorrow night (Saturday) through Sunday.
Our snowbank is quite high at our house and our icicles very long.  Usually right on the coast as we are, the snows turn to wet snow and rain, lessening the amount of snow - though making driving (Ha!  I just wrote "dricing" for "driving"... which is about right!) very hazardous due to the road icing.  This year it has been all snow and cold.
Here's my snowplow guy making us a little bit o'room for the next storm...


Had to do some prep for the storm so I'm late, but linking up with Poetry Friday today at Merely Day by Day with Cathy.  Check it out!

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Poetry Jam - Silence


Silence

Silence is precious
But not with a child;
A mother gets nervous
Without sounds of wild
Voices and clunking
And carrying on,
For that means there’s trouble
She’ll soon come upon.
Silence is golden
But only at night
When visions of sugarplums
Replace the day’s fight
Of brother and brother
And sisters and such,
When hitting and shoving
Become sleepy-slouched touch.
Silence is rare;
Don’t take it for granted -
If you have a child,
Silence is enchanted.

©Donna JT Smith, 2015

Today's prompt at Poetry Jam is to write about Silence.

Sunday, February 8, 2015

For a Friend Who Has Passed

To Charlotte

I hope to see you
again
where and
when
our paths cross;
until that day
I feel the loss.
When
I need to share
some news
and toss
a thought
into the blue
of you
to separate
the dross
and find the true
I’m at a loss
again.
But I have gain
for having known
and laughed with
you;
and that will
have to do
and hold me till
the where and when
our paths
cross
again.

Donna JT Smith, 2015

Friday, February 6, 2015

Journey

Today I am posting a bit late for Poetry Friday hosted today by Elizabeth Steinglass, and for Poetry Jam, where the prompt is to write about some sort of journey - and since I have just taken a journey by train, I opted to go literally and make up a format. See if you can tell what the pattern is that I used.
On Amtrak in Connecticut in the Storm


Clickety-Clack, Train on a Track

train on a track
clickety-click
       clickety-clack
       in snow and sleet
             clickety-cold
       clickety-street
             of ties and rails
                  clickety-steel
             clickety-wails
                   wind whips aloft
                        clickety-strong
                   clickety-soft
                        almost asleep
                             clickety-lull
                        clickety-beep
                   through each town
              clickety-in
                   clickety-down
             over each hill
         clickety-up
             clickety-still
      the snowflakes fall
  clickety-white
      clickety-tall
the buildings reach
    clickety-clouds
clickety-beach
      and sea at last
            clickety-sand
      clickety-fast
             home again
                  clickety-where
             clickety-when
                       the train track ends
                             clickety-clack
                                    clackety-back.

 ©Donna JT Smith, 2015

Ok.  Here's the format.  No.  I've changed my mind.  I'm not going to tell you.
I took Amtrak from Philly to Boston and Concord bus from Boston to Portland in the snowstorm on Monday.  We hit the whole thing.  It was an amazing storm to follow up the coast in a train all day...not so much fun on a bus in Boston with whiteout conditions...
but I made it.
You can see that the leash is actually going up in the picture.  I am standing below her.  She's up on top of the snow....we have about 33 inches right now - more in that spot.  She's eye-level with me here.
I've been visiting with grandkids and my daughter for over a week AND we have a new puppy, so I have not had much time to write. Oh, and I've been shoveling...and shoveling...and shoveling...and snowed in and blizzarded in a few times over the past two weeks.
The snow was sticky for this last storm so it made for some beautiful frosting on the trees, but heavy to move it.
The concentration just hasn't been there.  Surprise, surprise.

Zero

Each day (except Sundays) in April, I'm writing poems with some obscure words starting with the letter of the day, and then doing a sm...