rhythm

Taking back

/ Fran Haley / 1 Comment

For Ethical ELA’s Open Write today, fellow teacher-poet Margaret Simon invites participants to write to a photo. “This Photo Wants to Be a Poem” is a regular feature of her blog, Reflections on the Teche.

Margaret is also an artist, always viewing the world with artist eyes. She saw this scene on a canoe ride with her husband and knew she needed a photo… found art, shall we say, for a found poem (of sorts):

Here is my poem.

Earth gives
metal

Man makes
barns

Time rusts
mettle

Storms bring
harm

Swamp doesn’t
meddle

only opens its
arms

to heart-pinned
medal

recalling Earth’s
charms.

ALL DONE

/ Fran Haley / 16 Comments

A Slice of Life tribute starring my granddaughter Micah, age 17 months.

First, a quick lesson in Micah-speak:

Hey Mama – standard greeting for anyone, female or male

Na na na na na na – a favorite song lyric

All done (usually accompanied by hand motions) – I’ve had enough

now, without further ado…

Hey Mama
Hey Mama

got my cup
can’t we get up
got no more water
betta change ya daughter

ALL DONE

Hey Mama
Hey Mama

tired of quesadilla
tired just to be ya
do grown-ups really see ya
countin’ one-two-three-yah

ALL DONE

Hey Mama
Hey Mama

books and toys galore
I just can’t, anymore
thinkin’ ’bout a snooze
but don’t you take my shoes

na na na na na na
na na na na na na

I’m ALL DONE

Girl, I am feeling it…

with thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the monthlong Slice of Life Story Challenge

and to so many fellow Slicers who kept me going
more than you ever knew

we’re all done
but only with the March challenge

not with writing
not with life

especially over here today

’cause my beautiful Micah
is coming over to play

Hey Mama
Hey Mama

we’ve only just begun

The quivering

/ Fran Haley / 24 Comments

Inspired by an afternoon walk with my son.
Weary of discussing the world and its problems, we lapsed into quiet commiseration…
then, nearing end of the road, this sound, this airy, magical, musical quivering…

At the end of my road, over the street
Where expanse of sky and fallow field meet
I walk on in silence, until hearing
The faintest vibration upon nearing

—a quickening

Made by a thousand—a million—small things
Choir of minuscule cantors with wings
Singing their song in darkness, unbidden
Deep among long tangled grasses, hidden

—a quavering

Trilling celestial, ethereal sound
Otherworldly pulse of the Earth, unbound
Cadence of our own burgeoning story
Life playing out in wild morning glory

—a quivering
—a shivering

At the end of my road, over the street
Where sky and field and infinity meet.

*******

–with gratitude for the poetic gathering on Poetry Fridays
and to Bridget Magee for hosting today’s Roundup.