Tag Archives: Poetry Friday

Threefold Advent Preparation

Advent, a nearly four-week season of watchful preparation this liturgical year, began this past Sunday. Without fail, every Advent I think back to one particular reflection I heard more than a dozen years ago. The homilist focused on the word “come,” as it applies to Advent.

That word-focus, in itself, was not surprising or unusual, since among the etymological explanations, the one that rings truest to me, having survived three years of Latin, is this one. The English word Advent comes (no pun intended) from the Latin prefix “ad” (toward) and the Latin verb “venire” (to go or to come), meaning “to go toward” or “to come.”

What was unusual, at least for me, was that the homilist acknowledged and explored the threefold-paradoxical meaning of the word “come” as it applies to the Church’s Liturgical season of Advent.

Come.  During Advent, we prepare for Christ’s birth, for His first coming. We sing and pray “Come, Emmanuel.” For as many years are we are alive on December 25th when the Church celebrates His Birth, He comes to us as a newborn Babe in Bethlehem.

Come. Historically, Christ has already come into the world, and because of that coming, He is constantly available to come into our lives in Word and Sacrament. He stands at the door of our hearts, waiting for us to invite Him, and so in response to His knocking, we offer and request, “Please, Lord, come in.”

This continual present opportunity to experience Christ’s coming into our lives is poignantly depicted in paintings showing the door with no outside knob, the door that can be opened only from the inside. Here is one of those images: Christ knocking at the door via Wikimedia/Sul Art

Come. Lastly, during Advent, as we prepare for Christ’s first coming into this world at Christmas, the Church reminds us that this world is passing away, and that Christ is coming back at a future time, heralding the end of this world and the beginning of a new, fully redeemed world. In that respect, we pray “Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus,” looking ahead to “then” when He comes again for us–both at the end of the world, and at the end of our lives.

At all three “comings,” the one in the past that we relive in the present, the present coming anew each moment of each day, as well as the one that we anticipate in the future, we are called to prepare for Him. That is what the liturgical season of Advent is all about: to “Prepare ye the way of the Lord” (Mark 1:3) Who is already come, Who is always coming to and for us, and Who is coming again.

Honestly, I don’t think I’ve done the homilist justice in my rendition of his explication of Advent as a season of paradoxical comings in three simultaneous, overlapping time periods. We prepare for the birth that has already happened, for a coming that is always new in our lives, and for a coming again that is a second historical coming in the future that draws nearer, and may, in fact, be present.

When I learned about a “reverso poem” last week thanks to Donna Smith’s Poetry Friday offering, I thought that “finally” I might have a format for giving voice to the Advent “coming” paradox.

While I don’t know if I’ve succeeded with either the poetic format or the theological content, here for your consideration is my first reverso poem.

As the homilist admitted, three complementary, but discrete comings are hard to wrap one’s head around. I hope my poetic attempt hasn’t made it harder….

 

Advent Wreath (2)

Photo Credit: Flickr/Alex Harden

 

coming screengrb (2)

 

If you have just under two minutes to spare, you might enjoy this contemporary theatrical interpretation of the Advent preparation theme via this YouTube video: Godspell Revival- Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord

Happy preparation and many blessings for whatever holy days you will be celebrating in the coming days of December.

Not necessarily more brilliant

Poetry Friday Tag

Carol is hosting the round-up at http://carolwscorner.blogspot.com/

Happy Thanksgiving! Wherever and however you celebrated this special day for recalling our blessings, I hope your day was as nourishing to your poet-spirit as it was to your body!

Inasmuch as Thanksgiving might be considered the grande finale of the autumn holidays (at least in areas of the country that have seasonal vegetation), here is the third of the three autumn photo-poems I composed in response to Carol V.’s “Autumn Palette” gallery initiative.

Inasmuch, too, as Thanksgiving is one of our most cherished National family holidays, which conjures up thoughts and images of “home,” the backstory to this photo reminds me of the parallel aphoristic  truth: “The grass always looks greener on the other side of the fence.”

Our family history includes annual Fall foliage forages to places miles away in search of the most breathtaking autumn nature sites. What is so amazing about the scenery in the photo-poem is that it was found in a totally unexpected place…right in our own backyard. A wooded backyard to which no back door opens…A wooded backyard, quite frankly, into which we typically do not enter or look. (Note. I had to invent a back door for the last line of the poem:)

But because some work needed to be done on the side of the house, my husband glanced to the back, and had his breath taken away. Not that the scenery was as spectacular as that photographed on one of the Fall foliage forages miles and miles away to a lakeside state park…No, but this was “our woods” that were ablaze with a variety of colors. And even though we hadn’t planted the trees which so gifted us, still, these trees were “ours,” and like a child who objectively might not be as good looking or as smart as someone else’s child, that child is loved because it’s yours…Ergo:

backyard autumn picmonk

The grass is not necessarily greener, nor the leaves more brilliantly colored, on the other side of the fence….

And when the opposite is true, which objectively it often is, there’s something to be said for appreciating what is ours, even while aspiring for what truly is greener or more brilliant. Will we continue Fall foliage foraging? You bet! Will we remember to look for beauty in our own backyard, also? I certainly hope so!

Thank God we live in a land of options. May we exercise those options with thanks in our heart for all those servicemen and servicewomen who, along with their families, are sacrificing in the service of our freedoms. God bless America!

Twice-Tremendous Trees

Poetry Friday Tag

Tricia is hosting the round-up: http://missrumphiuseffect.blogspot.com/

 

In response to Carol V.’s Autumn Palette poetry-photo invitation, I pondered this photo taken by my husband…

wek autumn photo for post

Now, please don’t peek below…If you were responding to this photo in poem, what words does this image inspire from you? I’d love to know!… As for me…

….Reflecting on the reflection, I reflected on  Narcissus, reflecting that before camera-produced selfies, there were the nature-made selfies, courtesy of water…..and voila! a photo-poem:

cbhanek Autumn Palette number 3

Good thing that the trees are smarter and more humble than Narcissus. I’m glad they don’t get  infatuated with themselves; don’t topple into the water.

Without uprooting or taking leave of  themselves, what a splash of color they add to the water, without subtracting any beauty or diminishing any hue from what reaches above–into the heavens.

In reflecting on that truth, I totally agree with Joyce Kilmer…”I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree…Poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree.” Amen!

Upon further reflection, truly, trees are ten times ten times more than twice-tremendous….

Photo-Replay: A Poem for Two Voices

Poetry Friday Tag

Bridget Magee is hosting the round-up: http://weewordsforweeones.blogspot.com/

One of the hits of our elementary school’s last two Poem in Your Pocket Days was the dramatic mother-daughter recitation (with props!) of “Honeybees,” one of the poems for two voices written by Paul Fleischman.  Along with other dual-voice insect poems, this poem is found in the author’s Newbery Medal collection  Joyful Noise: Poems for Two Voices.

The first mother-daughter “Honeybees” recitation took place during an author luncheon when student-volunteers shared their favorite found or original poems. The second recitation by the same pair took place during a school-wide assembly in which a number of students recited poems in their native languages.

Both mother-daughter recitations were very gratifying; the pair were exceedingly proud of each other, and had spent time practicing–time that the student glowed about spending with her mom. Interestingly, the pair switched roles for the second recitation, with the student taking the part of the Queen Bee, while her mother was the “Worker Bee.” ..Unfortunately, the student moved up to middle school this year. Hopefully, another parent-student team will inspired to take their place!

How I wished that more grown-ups (faculty, staff, parents/guardians) would have chosen to participate, particularly sharing poems in their native languages. Although I hadn’t known it previously, last year I learned that the cafeteria manager wrote song lyrics and poems; she promised to share her gifts in the future festivities.

When I was having a hard time figuring out which end was up in the autumn photo featured below, I thought of Paul Fleischman’s form; ergo….though not Newbery material… in celebration of autumn….my first poem for two voices.

au up down pix revised homily (2)

A Little Girl’s Lament to Her Poppy

Amy VanDerwater is hosting the round-up: http://www.poemfarm.amylv.com/

Katya is hosting the round-up: http://www.katyaczaja.com/

With a most grateful nod to last week’s round-up hostess Ms. Mac and her talented intermediate grade poet-students for inspiring thoughts of Veterans Day….  And with another most grateful nod to JoAnn Macken for modeling a tanka as part of the same Poetry Friday round-up…

Here, in honor of our Veterans and their families, is my first (deep breath) tanka.

poppy lament screen grab (2)

God bless our military families!

2 Beasties, Squeezed

Poetry Friday Tag

“Check It Out” is hosting this week’s round-up: https://maclibrary.wordpress.com/

Since some of my elementary students really loved creating squeezed poems in response to Bob Raczka’s Lemonade and Other Poems Squeezed from a Single Word, I couldn’t resist squeezing a poem of my own in response to Michelle Barnes’ 5-word Beastie poem challenge.

…Okay.  So I couldn’t resist squeezing two poems–one beast from land; one from sea. (Hmm… where’s the beast from air? … I guess that one flew away…)

beastie poems squeezed (2)

p.s.  In case “Squeezed Poems” are new to you, as they were to me, the quick gist, as I understand it, is this: Write a poem based on as many words as you wish that are derived (anagram, style), solely from one start word, which serves as the poem’s theme or title. Sequence the words, vertically (as if squeezed out of the start word), so that they relate to each other and the starting word (perhaps telling a story).

Concerning my squeezed poems, I might have cheated by adding punctuation. I’m a punctuation freak. Sorry.

A Dandy Love-Response

Poetry Friday Tag

Jama’s Alphabet Soup is hosting this week’s round-up: http://jamarattigan.com/

All month, I’ve noodled ideas for Michelle Barnes’ Ditty of the Month requited/unrequited love poem challenge. And though I’ve played with some ideas, they were too embarrassed to come outside for the whole world to see.

I respected that.

Then, quite unexpectedly, yesterday I saw a solitary Dandelion puff growing alongside the edge of the patio. Not remembering when I last had seen one of my childhood playmates, I rejoiced, and–I guess, in retrospect–I dreamed (of which childhood love I do not know:), awakening today with this poem:

A Dandy Love-Repsonse (2)

How much I counted on those floral love-meters. And how many times, unsatisfied with the first meter reading, I plucked another flower clean, floral sacrifice to my love-interest need-to-knowing.

As I thought about that childhood ritual and how, on the second try, after reversing the “loves me; loves me not” order, the conclusion was always more favorable, I sought to investigate the phenomenon. Dandelion to dandelion, was the sum of petals always an “even” number? If so, that would explain why reversing the order (starting, counter-intuitively, with “He loves me not”) produced the desired results.

A quick Internet search seemed to belie my supposition. At first disappointed, then I thought. How like grownups I have become, trying to spoil all the spontaneity, all the fun. If there really is a mathematical, sequence-pattern explanation for why the do-over worked, I prefer not to know. I prefer to believe now, as I did then, that the boy I had in mind as I plucked the flowers to the stem truly loved me very much!

What about you? Did you pick petals to find out if he loved you very much? Do little girls still engage in such rituals today? (I hope so;  petal-plucking may be transformed someday into a fondly remembered requited/unrequited love poem.)

Student Responses to Poetry

Amy VanDerwater is hosting the round-up: http://www.poemfarm.amylv.com/

Amy VanDerwater is hosting the round-up: http://www.poemfarm.amylv.com/

As an educator, I have a lot of frustration with the latest renditions of standardized testing. Since this is a poetry forum, I will confine my remarks to my frustration with the latest renditions of standardized testing relative to students’ poetry responses.

Just two years ago, students were required to make text-to-self connections within their open-ended responses to poetry. How a poem resonated with them, how it made them feel, how it reminded them of experiences they had—in these in other ways, students were expected to personalize their responses.

In a changed world, text-to-self connections are anathema. Explicate the meaning of the poem using evidence from the text—nothing more; nothing less. Denotation and figurative connotation are fair game. Personal interpretation: I think; I feel; In my opinion—forget it. No one cares about students’ thoughts, feelings, or opinions, as such. Just cite the evidence—objectively. Impersonally. “Just the facts, ma’am,” to quote an old television detective-icon.

For me, the essence of poetry goes beyond denotation and connotation of verbiage. That kind of explication might be appropriate for responding to prose selections but not to poetry. For me, the essence of poetry, the gift it is to humans, requires a personal reaction, albeit, such reactions are exceeding difficult to verbalize.

I read once, but cannot quote the source, that a response to a poem is best (as in most authentically) made with a poem. Surely, we do not expect students to respond in that way, and yet, why not break the exposition rules? Why not accept as an open-ended personal response to a poem a sketch, a poem, word maps, phrases, and so forth.

When it comes to substantive poems, the kind that leave audiences struggling to identify their reactions, and then groping for adequate words to express their reactions, how can words best describe a poetry encounter that touches the soul? What is the nature of the discourse it engenders?

deep calls (2)

The first four words of the seventh verse of the New International Version of Psalm 42 epitomize for me the answers to these questions. “Deep calls to deep.” Some responses cannot be put into words…at least not without considerable thought, a time for pondering, for letting the meaning of the words resonate–fall— deeply within to the core of one’s being. The time needed for that kind of reflection likely exceeds the limits and constraints imposed by timed testing.

So, as poets, what do you think? Since personalized poem-responses are difficult to articulate, are testmakers doing students a favor by eliminating text-to-self responses? Or should poems be respected for the text form they are, and should a variety of personalized response-formats be required?

Thanks for sharing your perspective.

Lily: Living up to Her Name-Acrostic

Poetry_Friday_Button_2-210 REDUCED

Laura P. Salas is hosting the round-up: http://laurasalas.com/blog/

Creating an acrostic for a poetry assignment this week got me remembering another acrostic—one I composed this past April.

A first grader—daughter of a former student of my husband’s—was dying of a rare form of cancer. Besides the connection I felt through my husband, I felt my own connection with the child. As a kindergartner, she had won her school’s poetry contest. (Not that I ever won that distinction, but loving poetry from my youngest years—that would be something we had in common.)

Given the child’s tenacious response to her cancerous plight, the watchword for her fundraising campaign was fittingly based on the words of another poet:

shakes p for lily croopped (2)William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

In response to the heart-wrenching news of the child’s Easter Monday “death” (Her family prefers to think of her release from the pain and infirmity that held her captive—free to be forever joyously alive with God.), I set about to write an acrostic in her honor.

The resultant poem “frightened” me—in an awe-struck way–in that the name-acrostic seemed larger than life—the life of hers that just had passed peacefully into eternity.

How poignantly the poem proclaimed what had been the child’s defining response in the face of adversity…As if her given name, the name she answered to for three months’ short of seven years, held the secret of who she truly was (in contradiction to the apparent namesake-connection with a delicate flower), as well as what was heart-breakingly, and equally inspiringly, to become her legacy in the ongoing fight against childhood cancer…

 lily screen grab (2)

 

“““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““

If you feel inspired to learn more about this purple-loving little Shakespearean protégé, here are some links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lilylarueanderson

https://www.gofundme.com/TeamLilyLaRue

https://www.crowdrise.com/TeamLilyLaRue

An “Old” Poem in celebration of the Day of Older People

Poetry_Friday_Button_2-210 REDUCED    If you have not yet shared with students (of all ages!)—or enjoyed for yourself–the HBO Family DVD, created in collaboration with the Poetry Foundation, A Child’s Garden of Poetry, I highly recommend the experience.

(Although I have shared the video with students, in total, well over one hundred times, and enjoyed it on my own, as well, I never tire of immersing myself in this presentation!)

To the students’ delight, more than a dozen of the world’s most beloved poems are brought to life with animation, music, art, and recitations by well-known vocal talent (and wonderfully, sometimes even the poets, themselves!).

Besides the multi-sensory presentation, what makes the experience especially accessible for students is that the introductions to/reflections on the poems are delivered by children of all ages. (A most welcomed absence: no grownups interfering, elucidating, explaining, and stifling …no authoritative proclaiming! …”Just” a very special dose of knowledgeable peer sharing.)

When I first projected the DVD to students, I was concerned that some poems were too “heavy” for the younger primary-grade students, and others were too “babyish” for the intermediate students. And so I intended to pick and choose the poems to share with various grade-level audiences.

What I soon learned was that the older students enjoyed “My Shadow,” for example, as much as did their younger schoolmates. Likewise, younger students  (surprisingly) loved “A Road Not Taken,” and “When You Are Old,” just as much as did the older students!

Undoubtedly, the visual presentation of the poems opened up their meanings for the students. Would the students—of all ages– have reacted as positively as they did if they had heard the words without the animated visual context/backdrop? …Probably not…

One of the responses of a child (probably no older than nine) who was featured on the video, perhaps, provides the best explanation—particularly for why students so loved “When You Are Old.”

She said, in essence, that although sad poems make you feel sad, they also are the most beautiful poems.

(In my words, sad poems are the most memorable, I think, because they are the ones that move us most deeply, touching us in places that are most vulnerable—making us feel most commonly human.)

So it was that, when I polled the K-Grade 5 students to learn their favorite poem from the video, even kindergartners chose “When You Are Old,” as did the older students, although the older students seemed more  often to choose “The Road Not Taken.”

In the latter category, there was one notable exception. In sharing his response, one fifth grade boy named “When You Are Old” as his favorite poem, citing it for having opened his eyes (and his heart, no doubt!) to see differently his grandmother’s recent-loss reaction.

“The poem helped me see why my grandmother always looks so sad,” he explained. “I’m going to spend more time with her. I told my family that, too. We haven’t been very nice. I see how she feels now that my grandfather died.”

Saying he was very happy I had shown that poem, he thanked me. He thanked me.  And I thought, it’s the poet he should be thanking. And I wondered if, when Yeats wrote that poem, he ever imagined that a ten-year old boy sitting in an elementary library would be so deeply touched and moved by his words to respond completely differently–so very compassionately- to his grandmother’s demonstrated grieving.

And I thought, too, of how–as I was preparing for her funeral–seeing photos of my mother as a young adult helped me to see her as a person, before, during, and after I entered the picture.  She had a life apart from me, apart from being my mother….She was a woman; a woman with a long personal history…

In that context, I suspect that the animation of “When You Are Old,” which showed the older woman as a beautiful young girl and then, morphed into a sad elderly lady, helped the fifth grader to see his grandmother as someone, once young, who loved, and someone, now old, who grieved that loss.

Given that yesterday (October 1st) was the annual International Day of Older People, I “have” to share the poem that for five years so deeply moved “my” elementary K-5 students.

(Yes! Without apologizing, for the last five years, it became an annual Poetry Month event to share the Poetry DVD to all grades of students. Although there were some moans at the repetition, most students looked forward to seeing their favorite poems on the big screen; many recited the words right along with the narrators. What a blessing that DVD was for me–and for my students!)

Now, Mr. Yeats–

                     When You Are Old

———————William Butler Yeats——————-

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

___________________________________

When you call to mind the most memorable poems, are they the “saddest” ones?

If you are sixty or older, I hope you enjoyed yesterday’s day in your honor! (If  you are not sixty or older, maybe you can get together with someone else and the two of you can qualify to celebrate!…Being old is good stuff–at least that’s what I’m telling myself.)