Poetry Friday: Nature Photos

My daughter has been taking our point and shoot camera to the back yard. It's not a huge yard, so I'm amazed at what she finds and photographs there.

This week, I'm sharing a few of her shots. I am working on a tanka in response to one of the photos.

If you're inspired to do so, write a short poem in response to one of these pictures. Or make it an assignment for your class.

Sage Tanka

by Laura Shovan

"Go pick soup greens!"

My daughter brings me handfuls,

Foggy sage leaves.

I wash, chop, do not see

At the center, two cupped hands.

I love the tanka form. The two lines beyond a haiku allow tanka poems to make an interesting turn. Here is my tanka lesson (and a frame sheet to help with writing).

For more information on tanka, visit the Academy of American Poets.

Here are two more of Miss J's nature shots for you to enjoy, or write to:

If you're trying this exercise with younger students, check out the book Haiku Hike (Scholastic). It's exactly what it sounds like -- written by kids, a great combination of outdoor exploration and poetic response.

Thanks to Carol at Carol's Corner for hosting Poetry Friday this week.

National Poetry Month Issue 30

It's the last day of April. National Poetry Month 2011 is already in the rear-view mirror. Before we rush on to May, let's pull over and take one last breath of poetry.

Today's Maryland poet is Danuta E. Kosk-Kosicka. She is hosting a reading of contributors to Life in Me Like Grass on Fire May 26 at the Carroll County Arts Council, Westminster, MD.

Driving on the Beltway                                                                                 

by Danuta E. Kosk-Kosicka

On the Beltway

I miss the earthliness.

Instead of the buoyant

steadiness

of forsythia's yellow, expectancy

of apple tree buds breathing

their white insides open

in fragrance, the coolness

of tulip leaves slowly unwrapping

in wisps of laughter,

I feel the push

of passing cars, the uneven

pavement, borders

of broken lines,

concrete barriers. While I count

the exits, the minutes crawl

along my spine, deposit lead

in my thighs. I long

for a whiff of chocolate mulch

freshly piled around the trees. 

To stop.

To touch the porous skin.

To be touched.

Posted with permission of the author. This poem first appeared in  Weavings 2000: The Maryland Millennial Anthology.

One of  Danuta's poems will be in Little Patuxent Review, Make Believe, out in June.

Writing Exercise:

Do you have a poem that takes place in a car? If not, write one. If so, ask yourself if the poem balances (or contrasts) what's happening inside the car with what's happening outside the car.

Tomorrow, I'll post a full list of the Maryland poets I featured this month. On to the darling buds of May!

National Poetry Month Issue 29

Happy last Poetry Friday of National Poetry Month 2011!

All this month, I've been featuring poets from my home state, Maryland.

We've been feeling at sea in my house lately. Both of my children are winding down at their schools and getting ready for their next adventures: high school and middle school.

It's meant ups and downs as frequent as the tides. My son auditioned for his future high school's band and was thrilled to be accepted, but is so over 8th grade projects.

My daughter can't wait to join her middle school TV studio and book club. But today, she was embarrassed when all the fifth grade girls were lectured about appropriate dress (if you have cleavage, keep it to yourself).

In Lalita Noronha's poetic hands, "At Sea," has a very different meaning from the one my family is experiencing. The ocean in her poem is real -- alien, but comforting in the sense of welcome the speaker feels.

AT SEA

by Lalita Noronha

Buoyed by memory,

we float a hundred feet beneath the sea,

arms spread wide to glide past years that

disappeared into a long good night.

Beating like soft hearts,

clouds of jelly fish rise.

Sea lions come to tickle our hands,

whiskers soft as hair.

Behind the kelp,

suspended like a question mark,

a sea horse stares

and dares us to forget.

And in this blue cosmos,

at least for one moment,

the skin of a sea-tulip blooms pink,

a hundred feet beneath the sea,

without corners,

without edges,

without ends.

Published with permission of the author.

This poem first appeared in JMWW, Winter 2008; http://jmww.150m.com/Noronha.html (A great journal to submit work to, by the way.) 

Writing Exercise (Upper Elementary - Adult):

Many of us have had these "without corners/without edges/without ends" moments when we connect with animals.

When the speaker in "At Sea" touches sea lions and comes face to face with sea horses, it gives him or her a sense of timelessness.

Write about a time when you connected with an animal (or other living creature -- a tree?) and felt this way. 

One of my favorite poems on this theme is "A Blessing" by James Wright. It's posted at the Poetry Foundation.

Another Maryland poet is hosting Poetry Friday today! I can hardly stand the serendipity. Please visit Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference for the last round-up of NPM 2011.

National Poetry Month Issue 18

National Poetry Month is also spring break for most schools in Maryland.

My Maryland poet of the day is Sonia Linebaugh. "Where Does the Water Go?" looks at a family outing, ending with an observation that could only come from a little one.


A writing prompt follows.

Where Does the Water Go?

by Sonia Linebaugh

The boy grinned at his brother, 
pleased to be out in raincoat 
and boots on a wild wet day, 
socks on his hands to hold back the chill. 
More children arrived, two shy, two adventuresome, 
one in a pack on his father’s back.

The ranger pointed to the 
hard surface of the parking lot, 
glass floating like bubbles in the asphalt. 

The kids splashed in puddles.
Where does the water go?

Adults and kids followed the flow:
a swale with water plants, 
a little ditch, a pipe under the car exit, 
a smaller ditch into a tiny pond 
heaped with sticks at one end, 
too tidy to be the work of beavers.

Humans made this dam 
with a wide slit to let water fall. 
The kids hurried alongside, 
smelling the nearness of Back Creek, 
feeling their way to the Chesapeake Bay.

The ranger talked and pointed. 
Parents smiled with one eye on 
children for signs of boredom or chill. 

The one in the pack slept,
drooling on his father’s shoulder. 
Another peed behind a tree.

The boy with socks on his hands 
held up a fallen leaf as big as his face.
Look, Mommy. The water peed on this leaf.

Posted with permission of the author. 

Writing Exercise:
Every family has  "kids say/do the darndest things" stories. One of ours involves a 75th birthday party, a fudge cake wider than an extra large pizza, and a two year old with fork at the ready.

What makes Sonia's poem rise above family chestnut is the sensory detail of the poem -- socks on the hands, glass bubbles in the asphalt, the baby asleep on dad's back.


For this poem, tell a family story. Try to remember (or imagine) enough detail that the story becomes real for your reader.

National Poetry Month Issue 13

One of my favorite model poems is Mary Oliver's "Bats."

Sadly, the poem is not available online. Trust me -- it's worth a visit to the library to read this poem!

The first half "Bats" is sensory, but factual. Oliver describes where and how bats fly, capture food, and bats' social nature.

Then, a surprising turn in the fifth stanza. We know much about the science of bats, and yet, Oliver surprises with this observation: "But in the night still comes the unexplained figure slipping in and out of bedrooms, in and out the soft throats of women."

The loose form that Oliver uses in "Bats" makes a  great writing prompt:

Poetry Writing Prompt:
Take something from nature -- a plant or animal. First, look at it like a naturalist or scientist. What do you know? What are the facts? What do you observe?

Then, shift to what your subject symbolizes. Mary Oliver's poem works because she reminds us about bat facts before introducing the vampire -- showing how the two are intertwined in our  minds, how science can't overcome superstition.


Here is Maryland poet Brian Smith's poem, "Honeysuckle." Notice how, with Brian's intense observation, the honeysuckle plant is an almost vulture-like aggressor. However, by the end of the poem, we've seen two very different sides of the honeysuckle.

Honeysuckle
by Brian Smith


Tangled mounds of beauty reach
forth in creeping conquest,
ensnare derelict prey, abandoned
pickups, fences, and brazen
saplings that dare to rise
above the twisting grasp.
Yet, for what is taken, such a
gift returned. A pinch and pull
nature's finest mead.

Posted with permission of the author.

Thanks for visiting my National Poetry Month project. All month, I am featuring Maryland poets. Most days, you'll find a writing prompt or classroom exercise related to the poem.

Brian Smith with be with me at Baltimore's CityLit Festival this weekend. Stop by the Maryland Writers Association table and say hello!