I once told Mary Lee Hahn that I loved how she managed to live her life as one long poem. (I still consider her a role model in that regard.) Now, in celebration of her retirement from 37 years of teaching and the beginning of a new "stanza" in her life, I am delighted to be able to pay tribute to her publicly.
No doubt there are hundreds of former fourth and fifth
graders who are better human beings for having experienced Ms. Hahn's
benevolent guidance in the classroom, but I'd like to speak to the impact Mary Lee has had on me and the TLD community. The first time I sang her praises was in 2014 when she was a featured guest in the Haiku Garden. Since then, she's become a friend as well as a dependable presence on Today's Little Ditty. She's contributed to numerous DMC challenges (with six poems selected for The Best of Today's Little Ditty anthologies) and has inspired readers not only with her words, but with her drive to stretch limits and make her voice heard—creatively and otherwise.
There's a song called "Pulling on a Line" that reminds me of Mary Lee whenever I hear it. It makes me think of her passion for fly fishing and her association with Casting for Recovery, but it also brings to mind the creative process that is a constant presence in her life. For me, it represents the thread of that lifelong poem that stays with Mary Lee from day to day, month to month, and year to year.
It sways in the air when there's wind enough to lift
The fine ones are boundaries when there is a rift
I'm just pulling on a line, on a line
Oh I'm just pulling on a line I'm just pulling on a line, on a line But sometimes it pulls on me
The line, it inks across the freshly fallen snow Where only those embracing coldness would go In whistles and in whispers and sometimes in howls It sings to me sweetly from trees and in vowels
I'm just pulling on a line, on a line Oh I'm just pulling on a line I'm just pulling on a line, on a line But sometimes it pulls on me
The line, it writes itself across the dark sky In the air, electric flashes ending with a sigh It weaves itself into a fabric so true And flows just like the river, graceful and blue
I'm just pulling on a line, on a line Oh I'm just pulling on a line I'm just pulling on a line, on a line But sometimes it pulls on me
Many thanks to Michelle Schaub for featuring my poem "Look for the Helpers" on Poetry Boost this past week! Click HERE to read her wonderful blog post about using poetry in the classroom to encourage empathy and spread kindness.
Christie
Wyman hosts this week's Poetry Friday roundup with an abundance of
heartfelt tributes to #MarvellousMaryLee. You'll find the festivities at
Wondering and Wandering.
Propeller seeds, corridor scene Talk on, walk out It took me a minute, My mind was on other things
Oh, but you got me at "Paris" I must be coming down with Something to be thinking this
What's happening here? I'm growing roots through my toes! And leaves from my fingertips, unfurl. Where does this story go?
(queue, food, drink up, continue) We float in tandem, Past name tags and shaking hands Immune to the hubbub of others. We're deep in discussion The party's on mute.
Our bubble's got it covered. You want me? Well, you've got me. It doesn't have to be today. I can't believe I said that out loud.
What's happening here? I'm growing roots through my toes And there are leaves from my fingertips, unfurling. What does this story know?
Wedding rings and children Are all the good ones taken? Rickshaw, disco, goodnight kiss Oh, cold shower Calm me for sweet dreams of him
Where does this story go? What does this story know? What does this story hold ...for us?
I wasn't expecting to post this week, but it's been quite a momentous one, hasn't it?
When my daughter was home for the holidays, she asked if I had chosen a One Little Word for this year. Until she mentioned it, I hadn't given any thought at all to a guiding word for 2021. I've hardly been in that frame of mind. As it was, I completely lost track of my 2020 word until Mary Lee Hahn indirectly reminded me of it with this post around the same time. Funny how that happens. I think my muse, or as Julia Cameron calls it, my inner child, might have something to do with that little coincidence.
“The creative process is a process of surrender, not control.”
– Julia Cameron
Even though I haven't been writing lately, I have been trying to get back in touch with that inner child (the one that loves creative play and happy accidents) in other ways. For me, the most difficult phase of embarking on a new project are the weeks when I'm walking around in creative limbo. When the ideas have not yet formed in a concrete way and I'm flailing around for something I'm not at all sure is even there. It's uncomfortable at best, this amorphous cloud of confusion.
You'd think that if I'm familiar enough to recognize and talk about it, I should be able to trust that it's just part of my creative process, and yet, time and time again, I cower under the dread that I may never again be able to connect with my muse.
Over the last several months I have discovered that life can be confounding in a similar way. Last year I came to a crossroads, and while I'm okay with the direction my life is taking, I am confused by the "new normal." I feel stuck creatively, overwhelmed by my to-do list, and anxious about the not-knowing. Is this, in fact, my new destination or am I still in transition—on my way to some place I've never been before?
Yes, I'm a bit of a control freak. There's no doubt about that. I'm also impatient—especially with myself. But I'm also resilient. I'm determined and I'm a problem-solver. So what if, instead of seeing the future as something to be fearful of, I looked to it with anticipation. Amanda Gorman in her inaugural poem spoke of a nation—our nation—"that isn't broken, but simply unfinished." I take that to heart in my own life as well. My creative process is not broken—I am not broken—I am evolving.
Always say "yes" to the present moment. What could be more futile, more insane, than to create inner resistance to something that already is? What could be more insane than to oppose life itself, which is now and always now? Surrender to what is. Say "yes" to life—and see how life suddenly starts working for you rather than against you. – Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now
Surrender yourself humbly; then you can be trusted to care for all things. Love the world as your own self; then you can truly care for all things.
– Lao Tzu
Surrender is my One Little Word for 2021. Not in the sense of giving up, giving in, or losing
hope, but in the sense of yielding to the flow of the universe and heeding the whisperings of my
inner child. She's never let me down before.
“Without music, life would be a mistake.” – Friedrich Nietzsche
At the beginning of this month, Jesse Anna Bornemann challenged us to write a poem inspired by words in a song:
Pick a Beatles song (or, if you're not a
Beatles fan, a song by your favorite band), write down as many words
from the song as you can, then compose a poem that uses at least three
words from your list. Don't tell us the song that inspired your poem—see
if we can guess!
Grab a seat on the giant boombox and enjoy the playlist! (I hate to admit it, but our compilation might even be better than some of the mix tapes I recorded off the radio in high school.) See how you do with guessing the songs our poems were based on, but if you have trouble, I've included an answer key below the padlet.
Scroll through the poems below or CLICK HERE to open a new tab.
ANSWER KEY:
You can click on any of the songs to hear them, but the ones that are marked "video" have interesting visual content.
The Rainbow Connection from The Muppet Movie — video
"The Show Must Go On" by Michelle Heidenrich Barnes
Somewhere Over the Rainbow from The Wizard of Oz — classic video
"Somewhere Under the Rainbow" by Mindy Gars Dolandis
Strawberry Fields Forever (The Beatles) — classic video
"I Dream of Strawberry Fields Forever" by Angelique Pacheco
What Does the Fox Say (Ylvis) — video
"What Does the Foreman Say" by Heidi Bee Roemer
While My Guitar Gently Weeps (The Beatles) — *MUST SEE* video
"I Dream of Strawberry Fields Forever" by Angelique Pacheco
Yesterday (The Beatles) — classic video
"Believe" by Molly Hogan
"I Dream of Strawberry Fields Forever" by Angelique Pacheco
Many thanks to everyone who contributed poems to this month's challenge, and especially to orchestrator Jesse Anna Bornemann who kept us tapping our toes AND our keyboards and pencils!
Inspired to write your own poem inspired by song lyrics?
Visit Jesse's spotlight interview
for instructions and then click on the pink dot with the plus sign to
add your poem to the padlet. While there aren't many days left in August,
I'll be leaving this padlet open indefinitely, so feel free to add to it
at any time.
Note for Friday, August 30: I'm on the road, so if you add your poem to the padlet today, it may take me a while to approve and add it to today's post.
Stay tuned for a new reader spotlight next Friday, September 6th.
Today I'm contributing to a collective celebration of the life and work of Lee Bennett Hopkins with an original poem inspired by a line from one of Lee's poems.
The merry-go-round horse has a tear in its eye left by the spring rain.
From The Sky is Full of Song (Harper & Row, 1983)
The Show Must Go On for Lee, by Michelle Heidenrich Barnes
The carousel horse has a tear in its eye. No fairy floss wants to be spun. Flowers are wilting, curtains are drawn, jugglers say they are done.
The dreamers felt helpless, chose not to believe it— "It's just an illusion!" they cried. But words had collected, trembling in corners, afraid that The Muse had died.
They hoped for a rainbow— a sign or a vision of what their future might be, when along came a child who picked up a poem and eagerly started to read.
My poem was also inspired by Jesse Anna Bornemann's ditty challenge to use selected words from a well-known song. And because I'm not very good at keeping secrets, here's the song that helped to inspire my words. Feel free to sing along with Kermit. It might make you feel better—it did for me.
The winner of last week's giveaway for a signed copy of Once Upon a Twisted Tale, by Gayle C. Krause, illustrated by Caroline O'Neal (Clear Fork/Spork, 2019) is...
MARGARET SIMON — Congratulations, Margaret!
Only one week to go for this month's challenge to write a poem inspired by song lyrics. Click HERE
for full instructions, and to post your poem for the challenge. Don't miss the new contributions this week by Donna JT Smith, Cory Corrado, Kathleen Mazurowski, Carol Varsalona, and Molly Hogan; and join us next Friday for a rockin' end-of-month wrap-up celebration!
For more tributes to Lee Bennett Hopkins, visit this week's celebration of his life, words, and works, hosted by Amy Ludwig VanDerwater at The Poem Farm. #DearOneLBH
Having been under the weather several days last week, I had the opportunity to dive into Reckless Daughter: A Portrait of Joni Mitchell by David Yaffe (Sarah Crighton Books/FSG, 2017)—376 densely packed pages of astute insights, sprawling connections, and unexpected revelations.
I'm always a bit cautious about reading biographies of artistic role models and being spoon fed secrets that will mar my rose-colored outlook. This one was no exception. On the other hand, I'm not as impressionable as I used to be. With more than a few years under my belt, I understand that our personality flaws are as important as our strengths—that the friction between the two is what makes us who we are. It has the potential to drive us to better ourselves, maybe even lend a hand to others, and, in some cases, make us... I hesitate to say "better," but at least more impactful as artists.
I've written about Joni Mitchell before (HERE). One thing I've always loved about her, aside from her musical genius, is that as a songwriter, she's a true poet. She wields metaphor with the best of them and wears her heart on her sleeve—not because she needs to confess, but because she wants to reveal. It's no wonder that her albums have kept fans hanging on every word. It's because they see themselves in her songs. That's what poets do. They open eyes and minds, they bring people together, they provide comfort and a sense of belonging, and they promote self-discovery.
Reading this biography has prompted a personal "roadtrip" of self-discovery.
It's one of Joni Mitchell's many songs about travel and self-discovery.
(Read the lyrics without playing the video HERE.)
Listening and reminiscing through all of her albums, from Song to a Seagull (1968) to Shine (2007), I've been filling in the gaps, making connections based on recent reading, and sharing as much as possible of her artistic legacy with my daughter who I hope will appreciate her role as an artistic trailblazer and a strong, independent woman as much as I did (and still do).
in time, I would learn— those tender cellophane years when I was fifteen
found poem by Michelle Heidenrich Barnes from Reckless Daughter: A Portrait of Joni Mitchell by David Yaffe (Preface: Nothing Lasts for Long)
This little three-liner is like a house of mirrors. Found in the preface, the haiku reflects author David Yaffe's words and viewpoint, but it also reflects Joni, herself, since the cellophane reference is hers:
Years later Joni would tell me that when she made that album [Blue] she was totally without defenses, as vulnerable as "a cellophane wrapper on a packet of cigarettes," as she once put it.
– David Yaffe, Reckless Daughter: A Portrait of Joni Michell
Beyond that, the poem casts an image of my own younger days (and the many lessons I learned in the interim between then and now) and catches a glimmer of my daughter who, at sixteen, is occasionally startled by the crackle of her own tender, cellophane years.
There are a few other haiku on this month's padlet that seem to reflect a similar sentiment, especially after I've picked them out and presented them in sequence. Based on the articles they originated from, the creators of these haiku may not have intended that result, but that's how I am choosing to interpret them. As reader, don't let me stop you from interpreting them otherwise.
in time, I would learn— those tender cellophane years when I was fifteen
found poem by Michelle Heidenrich Barnes from Reckless Daughter: A Portrait of Joni Mitchell by David Yaffe
knowing what to do when unsettling feelings come up is the next step
rise into wonder life, reckless and opulent bestows profound gifts
found haiku by Molly Hogan from "So Reckless and Opulent a Thing", a blog post by Marion Dane Bauer responding to a quote by Susan Glaspell
empowered women no longer push anyone out the moment of lift
found haiku by Sandie Vaisnoras
from The Moment of Lift by Melinda Gates
Thank you to Bridget, Molly, and Sandie for allowing me to take their haiku out of context and play with them in a new way!
There are many other wonderful haiku finding their way to our padlet, including new ones this week by Dianne Moritz, Linda Baie, Margaret Simon, Angelique Pacheco, Lana Wayne Koehler, Catherine Flynn, Mindy Gars Dolandis, and Mary Lee Hahn.
Fair warning: they are addictive!
I look forward to reading yours. :)
You'll find this week's Poetry Friday roundup at Carol's Corner. She's sharing a sweet poem about the puppy she's been raising paired with photos that will steal your heart.
