Tuesday, March 24, 2015

forward...crouCH!


m.inmagine.com
Welcome again to the Forward...MarCH Poetry CHallenge, in which we make the most of a word ending in -CH eaCH weekday of MarCH.  Today's word is "crouCH" which offers, I hope, a lot of possibilities.

My poem today captures a moment that my 15-year-old mentions often:  "Remember that time that Becca and I got inside the sofa?" They were about 8.


Crouched in the Couch

Oooh...
       we unfolded the couch!
Look at that--
        If you just scooch over
ouch 
       don't touch the springs
        you don't want to get pinched
If you just scooch over
a tiny bit,
        then I can get down
ouch
        through there,
        and then if I squinch
my knees up
to my chest,
        and then
ouch
        I wrenched my wrist
but hey look!
        it's hollow in here!

If I just crouch down...

Switch places
with me now
        I want to see!
I just need a few more inches
OUCH
       Oooh, it's dark in here
And if I clench my
eyes tight shut
      I can see stripey fireworks
ricochet around
     crouched inside the couch

HM 2015
all rights reserved  

This seems like a good time to offer this link to a really great article on risky play that said daughter was assigned for a 10th grade English class project on, of all things, parenting and childhood.  I missed this when it came out, but along with Last Child in the Woods, it's alarming and inspiring.

Where are you all crouching today?

***********************************

Diane starts us off today with a poem that she discovered nicely commemorates National Puppy Day:

Upon First Meeting

Two-year-old child.
Ten-month-old puppy.
The child crouches to look
into wide, open canine eyes.
Their bodies mirror curiosity,
excitement, and, a touch of fear.
Both tremble slightly, then,
unable to contain themselves
they tumble forward to catch
each other in sloppy kisses
and unadulterated delight.

--Diane Mayr

I'm beginning to sense a collection, or even a story in verse something like Everett Anderson's Goodbye, developing for Charles.  Here's his poem for today:

CROUCHING BROTHER, SQUIGGLY SISTER

Crouching over the pearly coated bassinet,
Gazing at my wiggly, squiggly sister
Chirping in delight as I play peek-a-boo
While Mom, relaxing in her recliner, smiles
For the first time since Grandpa’s funeral.

(c) Charles Waters 2015 all rights reserved.

 Donna's crouch is hidden in the grass in this acrostic:

Cat in the grass
Ready to pounce
On whatever it's looking at
Under that leaf
Catching it is
Half the fun, twitching is the other.

©Donna JT Smith, 2015

Joy came by with two small poems today, including one for Harry Houdini's birthday:

May Day Parade
Crouching down
My daddy puts me
On his shoulders.

*********

Holding his breath
Crouched inside a box
Harry Houdini
Works his way out.

--Joy Acey

Mary Lee turned to baseball for today's poem:

TIME STOPS

That moment when the pitcher waits,
catcher crouches at home plate,
silence settles like a weight...

...all breaths are held,
no ball propelled,
no cheers are yelled...

...and then beneath the wide blue sky,
the pitch is flung, the ball glides by,
and time, again, begins to fly.


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2015

That's a home run if you ask me! Next up to bat is Kate, with a whole 'nother reason to crouch near a couch:

Birthday

Shh! Now hurry!
Come and crouch
here behind the flowered couch.
Listen, giggle—
shh again!
Eight of us,
now nine, now ten.
Super quiet
(one more giggle),
nice and quiet
(one last wiggle).
Key in the door
and voices in the hall.
(Shh now truly,
quiet all).
We look into
each other’s smiling eyes,
then all jump up
and yell “Surprise!”

—Kate Coombs, 2015

I agree with Carol that "crouching invites curiosity"...which always lead to adventures.  See you tomorrow when our adventure includes snatCHing!  

7 comments:

  1. This one had me stumped at first until a photograph prompted me to write about a memory. "Remembering" at
    http://beyondliteracylink.blogspot.com/2015/03/remebering.html.

    I was just a little girl
    when I heard the stories-
    naval exploits
    in the Philippines.
    He was barely a young man,
    not old enough to graduate
    from high school,
    but the call to fight was
    a passionate one.
    He lied about his age,
    told his mother,
    and left his home
    to join the Navy.


    His mission in the Philippines
    was filled with horrors,
    too difficult to explain,
    but he came home.
    A long sword in a case,
    trinkets, a photograph,
    and stories about the island
    came home with him.


    The story I heard was
    about soldiers in the navy
    with little food to eat,
    crouched over with pains
    from disease-racked bodies.
    I imagined what kind of
    sounds broke the silence
    during his time at sea,
    away from home.

    I wanted to hear more,
    but I was just a little girl.
    The sword remained
    as an untouchable.
    I favored the trinkets
    given to my grandmother,
    but they were not mine.
    It was the photograph
    that remained with me-
    a remembrance of
    a young man who wanted
    to fight for his country.

    He may have crouched
    in fear in the Philippines,
    but he would not
    tell that story.
    I asked for more,
    but I was too young
    to hear those stories.
    I had to be content
    with studying history
    to uncover the stories
    that were left untold
    and collecting
    artifacts to
    build rich stories
    of my own.

    CVarsalona (c) 2015

    ReplyDelete
  2. I continue to work small.

    May Day Parade
    Crouching down
    My daddy puts me
    On his shoulders.

    ReplyDelete
  3. And since March 24 is Houdini's birthday--

    Holding his breath
    Crouched inside a box
    Harry Houdini
    Works his way out.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Here's an NPR TED Radio Hour show that goes with that article:
    http://www.npr.org/programs/ted-radio-hour/335287595/growing-up?showDate=2014-08-01

    I turned to baseball for today's poem:

    TIME STOPS

    That moment when the pitcher waits,
    catcher crouches at home plate,
    silence settles like a weight...

    ...all breaths are held,
    no ball propelled,
    no cheers are yelled...

    ...and then beneath the wide blue sky,
    the pitch is flung, the ball glides by,
    and time, again, begins to fly.


    ©Mary Lee Hahn, 2015

    http://www.maryleehahn.com/2015/03/crouch.html

    ReplyDelete
  5. Birthday

    Shh! Now hurry!
    Come and crouch
    here behind the flowered couch.
    Listen, giggle—
    shh again!
    Eight of us,
    now nine, now ten.
    Super quiet
    (one more giggle),
    nice and quiet
    (one last wiggle).
    Key in the door
    and voices in the hall.
    (Shh now truly,
    quiet all).
    We look into
    each other’s smiling eyes,
    then all jump up
    and yell “Surprise!”

    —Kate Coombs, 2015

    ReplyDelete
  6. These are all so different, so good! Kate, did you know (or just guess?) that I was writing about a couch?

    ReplyDelete
  7. Crouching invites curiosity and adventures. Thanks for sharing these today.

    ReplyDelete