I’m soooo excited to have my poem “Bitter Chocolate” included in this soon-to-be-released anthology.
Today my bio is featured on the associated blog (here). What a fabulous way to start my spring vacation!
Anticipating Spring
Now that the temperature is slightly more welcoming and the snow pack has receded, I’ve been spending more time outside. In addition to enjoying the fresh air and scouting out subtle signs of approaching spring, I’ve been taking pictures again. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it! Here are three short spring- and photo-inspired poems from the last week.
Spring Prophecy
Along winter-bare branches
twilight raindrops
sparkle like blossoms
©2018 M. Hogan
Foggy morning
at the cemetery
snow melts
time stands still
©2018 M. Hogan
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to stop and take a photo, but as I drove to work this week, I noticed this welcome sight:
Migrating birds perch
among emerging spring buds
like precocious blossoms
©2018 M. Hogan
And finally, a big happy birthday wish to Lee Bennett Hopkins, poet and anthologist extraordinaire. While searching for signs of spring and all things “spring-ish”, I found his poem, Spring. I love the rhythm of it!
SPRING
by
Lee Bennett Hopkins
Roots
sprouts
buds
flowers
always–
always–
cloud-bursting showers…
(click here to read the entire poem)
You can find the Poetry Friday Roundup this week at the talented Robyn Hood Black’s blog, Life on the Deckle Edge. She’s also hosting the surprise birthday celebration for Lee Bennett Hopkins, so make sure to stop by and join in the birthday festivities!
Giant’s Stairs
Some whimsical soul in the past saw a giant’s staircase in the slabs and boulders along this stretch of Maine coastline, and the name has stuck: Giant’s Stairs. Today, the water crashes against the upheaved rocks, flying into the air in wild abandon. Common eiders bob in the surf. When the males dive, you can see the glimmer of their white plumage flash below the surface. Again and again, my eye follows their ghostly descent until they vanish, only to pop up moments later nearby. Amidst the rocks, snails skim in shallow tidal pools and a piece of kelp casts its shadow. Soft silvered rock glows in the afternoon sun. Flecks of mica sparkle and stripes of quartz erupt in brilliant, hard white fissures.
This landscape tells a story of powerful forces at work, but speaks a language that is foreign to me. Almost like hieroglyphics. Each shape and bubble, each boulder and slab tells of force and movement, of time and wind and weather. I need my own Rosetta Stone to make sense of this world– Something that would explain the layers, the shapes, the cataclysm that shifted horizontal shelves of rock until they were rotated and running in ridges perpendicular to their original orientation. Even without fully understanding, I’m captivated by the story.
Giant’s Stairs on a previous visit — You can see the descending slabs that inspired its name.
Moonlight
Moonlight
As shadow clouds drift apart
Moonlight’s nimble fingers
cease their dream knitting
to flow through rain-dappled windows
and pool on pine floors
in a quicksilver puddle
then inch like the tide
from floor up over rumpled sheets
until they brush my slack cheek
dust my eyelashes with moonbeams
and nudge me from slumber
to marvel at their beauty
©2018 M. Hogan
This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by the amazing Amy Ludwig VanDerwater at her incredible blog, The Poem Farm. Make sure to take some time to investigate and savor her site. It is an incredible resource for students, teachers and lovers of poetry.
Beach Perspective
I love to wander at the beach and take pictures. This weekend we arrived for an afternoon stroll, not anticipating the strong winds. They sent dry sand skimming over the tidal flats, ruffled feathers on the seagulls and whipped up white caps. Clearly there had also been extensive storms since we’d last wandered here, as the driftwood was piled high along the shores, and sand crumbled from raw slices cut into the dunes. I hadn’t been walking outside or taking pictures much lately, and was delighted to be doing both.
The bleached wood and sea-worn shapes of driftwood fascinate me, and I took picture after picture. While I was framing the above picture, a woman walked around the point and into the scene. See her? That pink blob on the left? I was slightly irritated, as I definitely prefer my landscapes people-free. I reminded myself that her distant figure might provide scale or perspective and could actually add to the photo. Still, I was impatient for her to move along.
As she approached, we both called out, “Hello.” Then to my surprise, she moved up the beach toward me.
“If you like to take pictures, you should try this,” she said, her hand outstretched. In it was a smooth glass ball.
“A crystal ball?” I asked, laughing.
“Yeah,” she said, “Try taking a picture through it.”
She placed the heavy ball in my hand and we walked back toward the driftwood I’d been photographing. Once there, I held the ball awkwardly, unsure how to proceed.
“Just set it down somewhere and try,” she said. She took the ball from my hand and set it into various nooks, trying to find a stable perch.
“There!” she said. “Try that.”
I crouched down and looked through the ball. Within its smooth walls, was a miniature world, inverted. I took pictures from a few angles, delighted with the experience.
“Oh, you could play with this all day!” I exclaimed.
“That’s exactly what I’ve been doing,” she said wryly. “I’ve spent half the day down here taking pictures.”
“Thank you so much!” I said, handing her back the heavy globe. She slipped it into her pocket.
“No problem,” she replied. “Have fun.”
She continued her walk down the beach, a lone figure silhouetted against the surf and sand.
Yes, I thought, she definitely had added a different perspective to the scene.
SOLC 2018–Day 31: Pet Peeves of Aging
March 2018 SOLC–Day 31
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
The challenge ends today. I’m another month older, and hopefully another month wiser. This morning after a glance in the mirror at my sleep-creased face, I started thinking about getting older. Mostly I’m ok with it (I mean the alternatives aren’t great!), but there are a few areas that bug me.
1. Hair. I’m fine with gray hair, but who decided that renegade hairs should start appearing in odd places and grow exponentially? Even when vigilant about checking, I can find a robust black hair a half inch long protruding from my face or neck. It’s appalling! I can’t help but wonder how many other people have seen that hair and thought, “Gee, I wonder why she doesn’t pluck that?” I’ve already warned my children that I’m going to draw them a map of all the likely spots for those hairs, and when I’m in the nursing home, unaware, it will be their job to pluck them.
2. My skin. Why didn’t I appreciate my skin when it was flexible and smooth? Now I have thigh skin that cascades over my knees and after four babies, the skin on my stomach resembles that of a sharpei. Sigh. Dimples and dents have replaced peaches and cream.
3. Grooves. I can handle wrinkles–those character lines that fan out from my eyes or bracket my smile. But who decided to put a canyon between my eyebrows? Actually, it’s two canyons! Do I really frown that much or constantly furrow my brow? I think I’m generally a happy person, but these deep, abiding frown lines make me doubt myself. And what’s up with that new charming horizontal line between my upper lip and nose?
4. Changes in Memory. I swear I spend half my time continuing to walk down hallways or into rooms hoping that I’ll see something that will jar the memory of my original intent. Sometimes it happens. Sometimes it doesn’t. And don’t even get me started on word retrieval! Thank God I now have a trove of slices that can remind me what happened during this past month.
Writing about memory, reminded me of an aging-related poem I wrote a few years ago. Ending with that seems like the perfect segue from this month’s challenge to Poetry April.
Happy Writing and thanks to all for a most memorable month!
The Battle
There once was a hair on my chin
undetected when first it grew in
I noticed it there
Adrift in the air
And yanked it out with great chagrin.
Another one grew on my cheek.
(It happened in less than a week!)
I pulled that one too
without great ado
But with a full bellicose shriek.
It’s said that in some far-flung places
Facial hair adorns women’s faces
But I can’t sport a ‘stache
with elan or panache
I vow to remove any traces.
My tweezers now flash through the air
Extracting each invading hair
There is not a thing cute
’bout my face so hirsute
I battle with growing despair.
Each day my reflection as mirrored
Shows renegade hairs have appeared
My expression is grim
As I tweeze and I trim
Not resigned to displaying a beard.
I continue the gods to implore
to vanquish these whiskers galore
They’re more apt to dispatch
A peach-fuzzy soul patch
I win battles but never the war.
Molly Hogan (c) 2016
Poetry Friday: Ghost Leaf
After two months of daily writing (minus a few days in February), my writing energy is fading, fading, fading. Thus, it seemed especially appropriate to share a trio of poems inspired by a ghost leaf.
Rain showered
Wind scoured
Time devoured
M. Hogan (c) 2018
Autumn’s light imprint
trickles away with the breeze
sand and time disperse
M. Hogan (c) 2018
Once a fallen leaf
Now a fading memory
How fleeting it is
M. Hogan (c) 2018
This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by Heidi Mordhorst at her fabulous blog, My Juicy Little Universe. She facilitates a wonderful discussion with Irene Latham and Liz Steinglass, explaining the origins of the Progressive Poem and the exciting twist for this year. Skip on over to enjoy that and to get a head start on April’s Poetry Month.
SOLC 2018–Day 30: Anticipation
March 2018 SOLC–Day 30
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
Yesterday, I raced out the doors at the end of the day with as much enthusiasm as the kids did. (Although I managed to maintain a brisk walk and to resist the temptation to gallop, skip and/or dance. On a side note, neither did I throw myself into a snow bank. But I digress…) The sky was blue, the sun was shining and with temperatures in the low 50s, it felt practically balmy! I bumped into my slicing colleague, Cindy of Mainer in Training (And as another aside, can I just say how delightful it is to work with someone who participates in the challenge?!)
“Only two more days!” we whooped, as the kids streamed by to get on buses.
“And it’s so beautiful out!” we enthused.
We walked inside together, celebrating the weather and commiserating about writing wells that seem to be running dry, about how tough the last few slices have been, and about the intensity of the past few weeks at school.
The weather outside was singing it’s siren song, and Cindy was practically dancing with impatience. “I’m going home right now,” she said.
“Me, too!” I exclaimed. “No conferences tonight!” I daydreamed aloud. “It’s so beautiful! I wonder if it’s warm enough to sit on the porch at home in the special sheltered spot. I could even have a margarita!”
“Oh! You could slice about this conversation!” Cindy suggested.
“Oh, maybe I will! I’d been thinking about creating a spine poem,” I said. “Leigh Anne Eck just wrote one, and I’d forgotten all about them.”
“What’s a spine poem?” Cindy asked. I explained and she looked thoughtful.
After a bit more conversation, we both went our separate ways, excited by spring temperatures and a free afternoon at the end of a couple of long weeks.
By the time I arrived home, the clouds had rolled in and the temperature had dropped. Honestly, I didn’t even mind. It was enough having tasted the possibility. Soon enough, I’ll spend a lazy afternoon on the porch, basking in the spring sun. Reading and maybe drinking an iced coffee or a margarita. It didn’t happen today, but it was well worth imagining. And anticipating it will make it all the sweeter when it does arrive.
SOLC 2018–Day 29: It Doesn’t Take Much
March 2018 SOLC–Day 29
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
Mainers are a hardy breed. The sun comes out in winter and shorts appear. It’s slightly insane. Below is one of my favorite early spring beach pictures. Outside of the camera shot, visitors’ attire ranged from full Arctic to flip flops, shorts and T-shirts. Clearly the parents of these two intrepid kids are masters of compromise. Their children are suitably attired up top for warmth and from the waist down for a bit of spring fun, Maine-style! This isn’t an uncommon sight. After seemingly-endless, dark winters, we’re all too ready to throw off the shackles of heavy socks, boots and long underwear.
Once the temperatures start to edge up, there’s an ongoing coat battle with fourth graders. The sun comes out and they do NOT want to wear a coat to recess. Even though it’s 30 degrees with a 15 mph wind. Often I check the temperature or the wind chill to bolster my “Yes, you have to wear your coat” position.
Yesterday, as we were lining up, a staff member stopped by. Knowing he monitored recess each day, I asked, “What’s it like outside?”
“It’s nice,” he enthused. “I think it’s close to 50 now!”
His words rippled through the room, setting off a tsunami of joyful whoops and cries.
“50!”
“Woohoo! 50!”
“It’s 50 out!”
Our line disintegrated into happy chaos as kids ripped off their coats and dashed out of line to throw them with wild abandon back into their cubbies.
“Did you hear that!? It’s 50 out! You don’t have to take a coat!”
Their smiles were as dazzling as the spring-ish sunshine.
We managed to reorganized into a sort-of line and walk down the long hallways without totally disgracing ourselves. We pushed open the doors to nirvana, aka the playground, and the kids burst through, a geyser of energy and enthusiasm.
C. rushed out, threw her arms up in the air and yelled, “It’s stinkin’ 50 degrees!”, then raced off over the snow piles to play.
I had to laugh. Only in Maine does 50 degrees generate such excitement.
SOLC 2018–Day 28: Currently
March 2018 SOLC–Day 28
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
I’m turning back to a tried and true format as time for slicing/writing gets pinched by a crazy parent-teacher conference week.
Currently, I’m …
Drinking: coffee–my regular brew of about 4/5 decaf and 1/5 dark roast and my morning OJ with a dash of cranberry juice. It’s such a lovely color!
Planning: How to survive next week when the school board added an hour to each day to make up for one snow day. This moves our last day from a Monday to a Friday, but …yikes! The word “brutal” comes to mind–again and again. And again.
Thinking: The final few days of this challenge are going to be tough! Even with this familiar and supportive structure, I feel like I’m trying to squeeze water from a stone this morning.
Wondering: Can I really take on a poetry challenge next month? I’ve been posting (either in Facebook groups or on my blog) almost every day for two full months now. On one level, I love it, but on another level ….Do I really want to keep up that pace? And next month starts on Saturday! How did that happen?
Feeling: tired, done, exhausted. After last week’s report cards and 12 after school parent-teacher conferences in the past two days, I feel wrung dry and hung out on the line.
Speaking of drying…
Listening to: a new ominous squeak from the dryer as it turns and rotates. (Do I need to call someone about that?)
Wishing: I could climb into the nest of warming clothes in the dryer, burrow into it like a small animal (maybe a mouse? lol) and drift back off to sleep this morning.
Looking forward to: being done with a couple of potentially tough conferences this afternoon, and on a more positive note, to writing poetry with my students later this spring.
Loving: living in Maine. Always. I’m so thankful I live in a place that’s a little off the beaten path and rich with natural beauty. Even when snow still covers the ground in late March and icy winds torment us on recess duty, I still wouldn’t trade it. (Well, at least not long term.)
Nix the comfort zone 