Today’s Pantoum poem celebrates warmth and comfort in these cold, wintry days leading up to mid-winter. I have a little faith in our southern groundhog, so I’m holding out some hope for a thick blanketing of snow to keep us home for a few days, snuggled fireside with books and dogs, before warming up and staying warm so the peaches will survive. Georgia lost 90% of its crop last year to a late freeze, and what few I was able to find locally cost a fortune and ended up in Mason jars as preserves so we could enjoy them all winter.
For today, though, there is hot tea with honey ~ and so begins my poem. Stay warm, friends.
Hygge Pantoum
chamomile tea with honey warm blankets, heated throw sherpa slippers (ears of bunny) beeswax candle's ambient glow
warm blankets, heated throw heavy quilts of rag-stitched flannel beeswax candle's ambient glow flickering shadows on the mantel
heavy quilts of rag-stitched flannel heirloom warmth of hand-stitched hugs flickering shadows on the mantel cotton-braided oval rugs
heirloom warmth of hand-stitched hugs sherpa slippers (ears of bunny) cotton-braided oval rugs chamomile tea with honey
Special thanks to Twowritingteachers at Slice of Life for giving writers space and inspiration!
I learned this form from Paul Hankins, who cuts letters from magazines and puts them onto blocks so that student writers can arrange them into words. I modified it by cutting out whole words and placing them onto Jenga blocks. Even the most reluctant poets have fun writing Jenga block poetry.
As we look to the month of 💕 February, here’s a Love Jenga poem:
It’s just like a dream you can’t remember Even though you always wish you could When it’s gone, it’s gone forever When it’s gone, it’s gone for G – o – o – o – o – D
I was so thrilled when my daughter in law texted me earlier this week to let me know that three of my grandchildren had a tea party with my childhood tea set I passed on to them. These pictures just melt my heart, seeing their little hands hold the cups I once held. What a joy and blessing! I’m also grateful for their mother, who creates special moments for them and shares them with me. She is an absolute treasure, and we love her so much!
Our host today at http://www.ethicalela.com for Day 3 of the 5-day January Open Write is Dave Wooley of Connecticut, who inspires us to write WHY poems in list form, choosing a list of purpose and then explaining it in 10 because reasons. Hop on over and read his prompt and the poems that are born into the world today. I’ve chosen a prose poem to combine with the list poem just because I got rambling a little bit on the bird soapbox……
Why I Watch Birds
Because Eastern Phoebe, see, she’s the forest drunk and she hiccups and calls her own name like she’s forgotten who she is and where she’s supposed to be, and she makes me laugh first and then cry later like that time at the Atlanta Braves game when that lost woman looking for her seat stumbled down to the front of an entire section and yelled up to ask if ANYBODY recognized her
Because Brown-Headed Nuthatch, see, she’s always in the middle of a domestic dispute telling somebody how it’s gonna be, telling her man he ain’t got a lick of sense and he ain’t coming all up in her tree stirring up no trouble, better carry his ass on out there and find another nest to be a deadbeat dad, and she makes me cheer her strength
Because White-Headed Nuthatch, see, she’s the Social Media Gossip, laughing like an evil circus clown at all the crap she stirs up in the woods, revealing her own true self in the mirror, projecting her sins through the rough-bared face of the forest trees, and she helps me see the weakness and insecurity of people who laugh at others like this
Because Great Horned Owl, see, he’s an all-nighter with all this early morning coffee shop talk across the farm, like he’s an old man sharing some great wisdom when all it is, is a ploy because let’s face it — the man sleeps all day and sheds no light on anything pertinent to school, so why they ever put a cap and gown on him baffles me, and he reminds me not to let his kind fool me
Because Wood Thrush, see, he’s a bird that blends into the scenery, yet his song is the most beautiful of all, kind of like those normal-looking people who step behind a microphone and belt out a song that’ll bring you to tears and give you chills and wonder to yourself, where did that come from? And who else am I underestimating?
Because Eastern Wood-Pewee, see, he’s always answering roll call, saying his name like he’s entered the building and the party can start, like a kid with a bad case of Senioritis who is perpetually late and wants to be sure he’s marked present so he’s not caught skipping
Because Northern Cardinal, see, he’s a woman-whistler, cat-calling at every woman who walks by, calling her pretty, pretty, pretty, just like some will do – some with good intentions, some with not-so-good intentions, but still giving me the gumption to tilt my chin up and carry on with the day
Because Ruby-Throated Hummingbird, see, she will ask for her food and thank me for it, then hover directly a foot from my face and look into my eyes like she’s blessing me with good vibes of peace and joy to feel like I can make a thumbprint-size difference, reminding me that all hope springs forth and wells up from a tug the size of a tiny thimble into a cascading waterfall
Anna Roseboro of Michigan is our host at http://www.ethicalela.com for Day 2 of the January Open Write, where educators gather to write poetry and share thoughts. Today’s prompt has us thinking about the motivation of a book character – what drives them to action. I thought of the book I’m reading, An Irish Country Doctor by Patrick Taylor, and decided on two limericks today, showing the relationship between the old doctor O’Reilly and young doctor Laverty. (I changed the last line of the first limerick about twelve times…..you can guess the obvious struggle with that last word, but I kept it clean since it’s Sunday – my own motivation and reason).
The Young and The Old
There was a young doctor from Belfast whose countryside practice in green grass was learning the ropes in this village of folks from an old mentor doctor with wise sass
When Laverty finds Doc O’Reilly he bites his tongue, sees raw truths wryly patient respect is a must as country doctors earn trust before they’re regarded so highly
Take a prompt from Anna Roseboro at Ethical ELA (go over there and read it – it’s amazing) and spin it with Scrabble tiles using the letters in a book character’s name, add a current event, and show the perspective that the character would have on the real event today, and this is something like what you might get:
DR. BARRY LAVERTY Laments Chancellor Departing NUI
Dr. Barry Laverty of Ballybucklebo would find it quite A TEARY DAY to see that chancellor go
He himself from Belfast, a young BRAVE new M.D., found a job in lush, green hills in Irish country, see?
As Dr. Manning hangs his gown this YEAR at NUI his more than DREARY stepping down grieves those lamenting his good-bye
My poem is based on the character Dr. Barry Laverty from An Irish Country Doctor by Patrick Taylor, my current read, and the news out of Ireland about the current chancellor, Dr. Maurice Manning, stepping down from the National University of Ireland (NUI), hanging his ceremonial gown for the last time.
It was 13 degrees when I woke up to take the dogs out at 5:15 a.m. For three years now, I have risen well ahead of time to leave for work, just so I can get my daily writing done. My goal time is 6:00 A.I.S* in the living room chair where my lap desk, lamp, and computer are arranged.
I was trying to talk myself out of a shower in this insane cold, but I knew I needed what my husband calls “climatizing” – – water that regulates the body to the normal temperature before heading out into the world to see what the day brings.
Normally, all three dogs get a treat and head back to bed while we get ready, but somehow two of them got shut out of the bedroom and remained in the living room while I took my shower. I heard whining at the door, and when I opened it to go into the living room, Fitz and Ollie made a beeline for the bed to join their brother Boo, who was buried under the covers, snoozing.
That was when I saw it.
Aha! I thought. Making a mess by the couch, I see. No wonder they hung back in the living room.
Not one of our boys wanted to go to the edge of the woods in this cold as they usually do for this kind of business. They’d all three peed and come straight back inside. But not one of them did the other emptying.
I grabbed a paper towel to clean it up, but when I got there, it wasn’t what I thought it was.
This dog mess was a frozen toad.
I picked it up to toss it back out the door and wondered whether it may still be alive. On closer inspection when I flipped it onto its back in my hand, I saw the poor creature struggling to breathe.
My Grandmother Jones would be rolling over in her grave, but I clasped the frigid little thing between my palms to warm it and soon felt a stirring. A muscle stretch. A pulse of life.
But how? I wondered. How had this frozen toad gotten into our house?
I’d brought the plants inside at lunchtime the previous day, ahead of the cold. Perhaps it could have come in that way, but it was far too cold to have slept in the heat of the house. I concluded that it must have been waiting by the door and jumped in when I’d taken the dogs outside.
As I put my socks on, though, it hit me – – the toad had been quite frozen, too stiff to move. There was no way it could have hopped twelve feet from the door to the corner of the couch.
What had happened?
After piecing the possibilities together, my husband and I believe that our toad-loving Fitz brought this little buddy inside and hopped up into his favorite living room resting place on the back of the couch with it, guarding it. That must be why he and Ollie hadn’t come back to bed – they’d been toad watching.
We slowly thawed it out, and I took it to work with me – and to the local coffee shop for a meeting – in a little plastic box with the lid half-cocked and taped shut. At lunchtime, I brought it back and released it right here on the farm so that it could return to its family. Not many Pike County toads can say they were brought back from death and taken out for a morning of work and coffee.
But Lazarus can (thanks to Glenda Funk for suggesting the name).
Back-Again Amphibian Tanka
In the house, a toad
Somehow, in from dark night’s cold
Lazarus, jump forth!
Resurrected Frozen Toad
Back-Again Amphibian
A.I.S., as defined on an episode of the sitcom Everybody Loves Raymond, means ass in seat.
My friend Margaret Simon of Louisiana hosts the weekly Poetry Friday Roundup by posting a photo and inviting writers to compose a poem inspired by the photo. Last week, she visited the North Georgia mountains with her family as a Christmas gift to her children and their families, and she posted her cherished moments of making memories with them. She invites us this week to write a poem about this photo of her mountain house.
Margaret has been using the elfchen form, also called an elevenie, in which the lines fall into the sequence of 1 word, 2 words, 3 words, 4 words, and concludes in summary fashion with 1 word that ties it together. She will announce her One Little Word tomorrow, and hints that it may be the last line in her own poem (Connection), so I’m giving an enthusiastic nod to her choice by using a form of connection as the last word in my own poem. You can read her post here, along with other poems that were written about the photo, and her picture that inspires her poem (and others) is below:
Mountain House photo by Margaret Simon
Presence
unhindered
time spent
unhurried memory making
letting presence be presents
connecting
Try an elfchen! These are fun to write, and what a fabulous way to preserve memories – using photos and short forms of poems. I like the way just a few words can encapsulate an entire experience and bring all the memories and good times rushing back.
A special thanks to Margaret Simon for inspiring my writing today. Some of my greatest blessings are my writing community friends, who encourage and inspire me to be better.
