Category Archives: Poetry

by

NPM 2019–Fooling around with my own version of Paint Chip Poetry

56157671_2292250211056165_7153227001665421312_n.jpgIn case you hadn’t noticed, it’s National Poetry Month! There’s all sorts of fabulous, frivolous poetry fun going on. I’m not sure that I’m up for a full month’s challenge, but the prose writing for the Slice of Life Challenge has left me yearning to write poetry. Also, I keep seeing posts inviting me to join in and “Play with Poetry”. Who can turn down that kind of invitation? I believe this particular fun began with Mary Lee Hahn and Jone MacCulloch, but I’m not sure.  (Please correct me if you know I’m off-base with this! Update–The idea originated with Mary Lee! She has the best ideas!!)

At any rate, I made my own version of Paint Chip Poetry today. I took a Sherwin-Williams paint chip sample thing-a-ma-jig, that has been tucked in a classroom cupboard for years, and brought it home. I decided to pick one “stick” of colors and randomly choose three names. Today I picked: “cucumber”, “pickle” and “enlightened lime”. Oooookay. 

Here’s my very rough, very odd,  draft poem. I’m not quite sure what to make of it, but every time I read it, it cracks me up. Then I get a little worried. (March really was a very long month.)

A Proliferation of Greens

In the fridge
the dark matte green skin
of cucumbers goosebumps
in proximity with
dull shades of pickle
seen through smudged glass
and murky liquid
but in the fruit drawer
there’s a burst of color
from one enlightened lime,
clearly destined
for my future margarita

©2019 (rough draft) Molly Hogan

by

SOLC 2019 Day 21 and PF: Jabberwocky

11454297503_e27946e4ff_h

March 2019 SOLC–Day 21
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

74707-poetry-friday-logo
This post is a dual post for the Slice of Life challenge and the Poetry Friday Roundup. This week’s Roundup is hosted by Rebecca Herzog at Sloth Reads. Although I hadn’t been aware that she’d invited participants to celebrate National Goof Off Day this week, serendipity was at hand. What could be more wonderfully fun and goofy than “Jabberwocky”, the word romping poem central to my post?
Image result for jabberwocky original illustration

Illustration by John Tenniel

Jabberwocky
by Lewis Carroll 
“’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
      And the mome raths outgrabe. ”

Last night we drove a few towns north to watch our youngest daughter sing with the University of Maine Singers during their spring concert tour. The Singers always end their concerts with a rousing rendition of Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky, accompanying the lyrics with overblown theatrics. They cavort on stage, miming snapping jaws, dramatically pulling vorpal swords, etc.

“…’Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!’

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought-
So rested he by the Tumtum tree..”

Last night when they reached that last line, chorus members mocked fatigue. Some yawned, others slumped against their singing companions. My daughter, Lydia, took her two fists and rubbed them against her eyes, ducking her head down…and just like that I hurtled back through the years.

In an instant my 21 year old daughter was transformed so vividly in my mind to her long-ago sleepy toddler self. It was like a physical blow. A jolt. I was momentarily lifted from the present and thrust into the past, swamped with a sensation of nostalgia and loss. I remembered her heavy weight in my arms as I’d carry her up to bed, her head resting on my shoulder. I’d always softly sing to her “Good night, sweet heart…” as I climbed the stairs, and even though she was almost asleep, her small hand always patted my back, soothingly. It was the sweetest thing…

And then, just like that, I was back in the present, in the auditorium, listening to Lydia and the UMaine Singers finish up their romping version of Jabberwocky. I watched them burble, galumph and chortle…feeling a bit disoriented…memories of the past reconnecting to the reality of this present.

After the performance I hugged Lydia extra tight.

My baby girl.

 

 

by

In Antarctica…

74707-poetry-friday-logoHeidi Mordhorst is hosting this week’s Poetry Friday Roundup at her blog, My Juicy Little Universe. Her passionate post focuses on the Youth Climate Strike and on taking steps to address our climate crisis. She lists a number of steps people can take to enact change, spread the message and pressure our governments to act. Finally, she invites participants to “use your post and your poetry as an action to address the climate crisis and create hope.”

I’m late chiming in for the week, and I’m not particularly hopeful, but I’m sharing a poem I wrote about a year ago in response to Laura Purdie Salas’s 15 Words Or Less weekly poetry photo prompt.

Penguin Cookie

Photo credit to Laura Purdie Salas

 In Antarctica…

Tens of thousands
of Adélie chicks
starve and perish
while we enjoy
our frosted cookies

M. Hogan (c) 2018

by

Shifting Focus

74707-poetry-friday-logo“I didn’t sleep well,”  he said. “The rain kept me awake. It made the same sound you make each morning when you pick your glasses up off the nightstand.”

“That makes a noise?” I asked.

“Not a loud one–just distinct. A certain sound each morning.”

Now each morning when I pick up my glasses, I hear the frames lightly skitter on the wooden surface. I wonder what else I’ve missed.

Shifting Focus

How did I never notice
the changing hues
of the goldfinch
from winter to spring?
Was I blind to its drab presence
midst winter snows?
Did my eyes only open
with spring’s sweet call?
Now day by day the transition
from dull olive to lemon gold
startles me.

“Wake up!” I tell myself
“The world is full of marvels.
Pay attention!”

If I stop, sit and listen
will I hear the whisper
of the butterfly’s wings
or spy the slow unfurling
of the spiraled fern?

What other wonders
have I missed?

©2018 M. Hogan

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by Catherine Flynn at her blog, Reading to the Core. She’s celebrating International Women’s Day with a beautiful original poem to honor Ellen Haring Baker.

by

Poem Sketching

unnamedThe first week back after break is always a haul. Every day my alarm seems to go off earlier and earlier, but Friday seems to move progressively farther away. It’s a phenomenon that defies understanding.

Last week, when free time was abundant, I started fooling around with word group poems. Margaret Simon’s post inspired me so much that I purchased the Sandford Lyne book she mentioned. I haven’t read it all yet, but I’ve really enjoyed looking through his word combinations and toying around with them in my notebook. Lyne calls this “poem sketching.” It’s been the perfect activity to keep me writing on these bleary-eyed mornings.

Here’s one word group that took me in an unexpected direction:

flowers
memories
lonely
jar

I have few memories of flowers,
but one sister says,
“Remember how much she loved daisies?”
and another recalls planting marigolds with her
at the edges of the vegetable patch

Lonely amidst such remembrances
I surround myself with gardens and
fill the house with cut blossoms
tucked into the mason jars
my mother once filled with jams

©Molly Hogan, 2019

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by Linda Baie at her wonderful blog, Teacher Dance. She’s sharing a fabulous spring poem that sprouted from a rich bed of anagrams.

by

Invitation: a word collection poem

74707-poetry-friday-logo

In her Slice of Life post this past Tuesday, Margaret Simon shared some word group love poems she’d written with her students. They were inspired by a wonderful Charles Ghigna poem, some brainstorming and then a photocopied page of small word groups from Sandford Lyne’s Writing Poetry from the Inside Out. I was immediately drawn to the word collections and, in particular, I was intrigued by this list:

crane
brushstroke
iris
cloud

Here’s the resulting poem:

Invitation

you are the crane
in flight above
the purple flag
of my iris
your wings brushstroke
cloudy paths
through azure skies
as if to say
Come this way
Come this way

©M. Hogan, 2019

I’m not sure it’s a love poem, per se, but it’s what happened. Thanks to Margaret, her students, and Sandford Lyne for the inspiration!

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by children’s author, poet and artist, Robyn Hood Black at her blog, Life on the Deckle Edge.

PS–In a mixed-up moment this week, I thought Haiku Dialogue’s current theme was “a smooth coin.” I wrote a haiku, then realized I was a week late to submit it. “A smooth coin ” was last week’s theme. Oops.

how heavy the coin
worn smooth by Charon’s hand
the final payment

©M. Hogan, 2019

by

Insomnia and Poetry Postcards

74707-poetry-friday-logo

Sleep doesn’t always come easily to me. To be more precise, I typically fall asleep in a heartbeat, but wake in the darkest hours of the night unable to sleep any longer. My eyes pop open and I’m alert, my mind racing with churning thoughts and worries. Ironically, one thing that can help me relax and get back to sleep is to mentally compose a story or a poem. I’ve even caught myself tapping syllables on the underside of my pillow. I’m not sure it’s a good sign that my mental writing efforts help me drift to sleep, but honestly, I’ll take it! Ironically, recently I’ve been composing insomnia poems in my mind during my wakeful hours. Here’s one of my latest:

Insomnia

In the deepest dark hours
night shifts and moon-born
silent shadows stir and stretch,
oblong on old pine floors, then
melt into inky corners, where murky
nocturnal thoughts slumber fitfully, and
invite them to fully
awaken

©Molly Hogan, 2019

I’ve also been remiss about thanking all those wonderful poets who participated in the New Year Poetry Postcard Exchange. My refrigerator is practically strutting! She’s covered with all sorts of poetic goodness and fabulous images. We’re both delighted with the make-over, and I can’t tell you how much those postcards perked me up during the darkest winter days. Thank you, thank you!!! Here they are in all their glory:

I’d like to pretend that my delayed thank you was deliberate, but it’s really just a happy coincidence that the New Year Poetry Postcard organizer, Jone, is hosting this week’s Poetry Friday Roundup. You can find more poetry at her blog, Check it Out.

by

Morning Pages

 

unnamed

50956237_687447348318423_8683644344537710592_n.jpg

Morning Pages

What words will emerge
when I set pen to paper,
before the sun arises
and my eyes clear and focus?

When doorways are ajar,
what silvered light slips through
like dawn on the horizon?

In that liminal state
between sleep and sentience,
will I brush against
another world?

©M. Hogan, 2019

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by Laura Purdie Salas at her blog, Writing the World for Kids. She’s celebrating the publication of her newest book, Snowman – Cold = Puddle: Spring Equations, and inviting poets to contribute equation poems on a padlet. What fun! I just contributed my idea: spider web + dew = masterpiece!

DSCN5688.jpg

by

During the Storm

After much hype, last weekend’s winter storm finally arrived and landed firmly in mediocrity. On a happy note, it was still potent enough to encourage me to linger indoors, look out the window, and write.

During the Storm

Swirling, twirling
snow-traced gusting wind
whips and worries
through the huddled garden
rustling baptisia pods
into whispered reminiscences
of spring

©M. Hogan, 2019

Tabatha Yeatts is hosting this week’s Poetry Friday Roundup at her blog, The Opposite of Indifference. She’s sharing poems by Marilyn Robertson and Phillis Levin.

by

Mourning Mary Oliver

unnamedAs so many others have, I’ve been mourning the death of Mary Oliver this past week. I have re-read many of her poems, discovered new ones, and re-listened to her On Being interview. I have felt simultaneously comforted and bereft. Oh, what a voice we have lost.

Then, when browsing through some past posts, I rediscovered this one from the Thursday after the election. Yeah. That election. It features my then college-aged daughter seeking comfort in Mary Oliver, trying to spread love, and netting some Emily Dickinson. Re-reading it moved me once again to tears and reminded me how much our world has changed in the past few years. Sigh.

Here’s the Mary Oliver poem my daughter quoted from in the linked post:

Invitation

Oh do you have time
to linger
for just a little while
out of your busy

and very important day
for the goldfinches
that have gathered
in a field of thistles…

(click here for the rest of this poem)

While Mary Oliver’s words live on and continue to offer a path through the crazy, her death adds to my growing feeling of overwhelming loss and unease. I feel like there’s an insidious malignancy gaining ground and I’ve just lost a critical and powerful ally. So I turn again and again to poetry, to nature, and often to her words for comfort. Again and again.

Image result for it is a serious thing just to be alive

This week’s Poetry Friday Round up is hosted by Tara Smith at her blog Going to Walden. When I read the poem she shared today, a powerful and disturbing Linda Pastan poem, I was struck by how it resonated with the linked post I was sharing and with my own feelings.