Thursday, January 15, 2015

Bread and Jam for Frances



  • Verses Based on the book’s title: Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoban, illustrated by Lillian Hoban  (prompt at Miss Rumphius Effect)

Bread baking warms the room
And brings the children round
Jam sweetens so the spoon
For us to spread around

Frances, don’t you dally,
Come soon and bring Sally!

Monday, January 12, 2015

Mountain of Dreams -- a Reverso Poem (1st try!)




Mountain of Dreams

There
will always be
that mountain --
Awake! a frozen jewel!
A prize!
Beside the fire,
when I am warm,
I love to dream
I may climb
that mountain of ice
someday.

Someday
that mountain of ice
I may climb.
I love to dream
when I am warm
beside the fire
a prize--
a frozen jewel.
Awake!
That mountain
will always be
there.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Commitment

Dear Trisha @ The Miss Rumphius Effect:
   Last year (2014) I had a falling out with a very dear friend, Poetry. This year I hope to make amends and start by sitting down, Sunday mornings for the Monday poetry stretch.
 Today I am happy to post a response to the Shadorma Prompt.

 Purrfect

Cat napping
on cashmere sweater
kneading dough
the purr low
such sweaters make perfect mats
for elegant cats

This poem was dictated to me by Mittens, on January 11, 2015
the oracle awakes

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Snowing for Days

It’s elegant the way snow settles
On the branches: as if the dawn sequoia nestles
A woman in a white kimono. Below the city bustles
But here I can recall a Chinese cherry, its petals
Once covered the ground before a wooden chapel,
Still as the bird house topped with a snow white steeple;
The snowbird, junco, nuthatch, kindly fed by people,
Disappear at day’s end, to wonder where they go unsettles,
But we too retreat and sleep and in the morning warm the kettle.

REVISION (okay, this one really isn't written for children.)
 (my note from last year reads that this one still needs lots of work, but I think this revision stands.)




It’s elegant the way snow settles
On the branches: as if the dawn sequoia
Nestles a woman in a white kimono.
the city bustles despite the cold.
Once a Chinese cherry’s petals
covered the ground before a wooden chapel,
The bird house is empty with a snow white steeple;
The snowbird, junco, nuthatch, kindly fed by people,
Disappear at day’s end, to wonder where just unsettles,
We sleep and in the morning light the kettle.

2/17/2014
 

Saturday, January 04, 2014

Mouse Within a Wood Pile

Wikimedia photo by Forest Wander













Verses Inspired by an old Appalachian song, "Mole in the Ground," sung by Bascom Lamar Lunsford for Smithsonian Folkways.




I wish I were a parrot beside a lazy fountain

for if I were a parrot beside a lazy fountain,

I'd sing to you from down low and head right up the mountain.

I wish I were a firefly darting in the open field,

for if I were a firefly darting in the open field,

I'd speak my love for you, my lips no longer sealed.

I wish I were a lonesome frog beside a verdant pond,

for if I were a lonesome frog beside a verdant pond,

I'd dream of you and a changling make of a magic wand.

I wish I were a wee mouse within a snug wood pile

for if I were a wee mouse within a snug wood pile,

I'd hum a little winter's tune for you to pass the while.

I wish I were a warm cat purring in a sunny window,

for if I were a warm cat purring in a sunny window,

I'd peer out below at your perfect angel in the snow.

I wish I were a long-tailed lizard in a sunlit spot

for if I were a long-tailed lizard in a sunlit spot,

I'd curl my tail up giddy with you and make a happy knot.

I wish I were a winter's bear asleep in my dark den,

for if I were a winter's bear asleep in my dark den,

I'd dream of how you'd wait for me to visit half past ten.

I wish I were a raccoon a-sitting in my hollow,

for if I were a raccoon a-sitting in my hollow,

I'd scatter all manner of nuts and seeds for you to follow.

I wish I were a pelican flying by the wide blue sea,

for if I were a pelican flying by the wide blue sea,

I'd swoop down your muck boots and drop within my key.

Monday, December 30, 2013

"The Doll in the Grass" (traditional) retold with variations as a Sestina


Lois Lenski


The King had twelve sons.
Each son was suited with armor
and told to find a woman
who could sew a shirt in one day.
So they set out into the world,
each high upon his horse.


The youngest, Ashiepattle, road his horse
into the woods; as sons 
go, he was good-hearted but often lost in the world,
a shy boy whose armor
could not protect him from his brother's jokes. This day
his life would change when he would meet a woman--



Deep in the forest, buried in the grass, a doll cried, "I am a woman.
Ashiepattle, come underground and ride your horse
through tunnels night and day.
I have made a shirt to give to one of the king's sons."
When Asheipattle found the tiny woman she glowed like golden armor
and he brought her cupped in his palm to the bright world.

She road in a silver teaspoon driven by mice through the world--
Ashiepattle upon his horse; beside him, his tiny woman.
But the spoon toppled by a lake--Oh!-- Ashiepattle's tears rolled down his armor.
He searched the lake upon his horse,
the sparkling water spilling from his fingers like a thousand suns. 
Then from the water a  mermaid rose and in her arms night turned to day.

She had delivered the tiny woman full grown as if it were her birthday.
Hooray! They road together upon his horse back to the world,
back to the King where they gathered with all of the sons.
Ashiepattle was afraid to show the King the shirt made by the woman--
small enough to fit a bee or hold a bite of sugar for a horse,
but the King's heart was not encased in armor.

And he ordered it placed in a tiny pendant of armor,
that he wore around his neck each day.
And the mice? Free of the spoon, they had scurried past the horse,
and set out on their own adventure in the world,
turning a scullery maid into a royal woman
and filling their bellies with the finest crumbs scattered by many sons.

envoy to come later....tp 12/.31/13