a house for hermit crab + a bonus "if"

Greetings from a rather howling March evening! (Lion first, crab second.) It's the First Friday of the month and thus the Inklings  are busying ourselves again (again so soon) with a challenge from Molly Hogan:

Write a hermit crab poem–a poem that takes the structure of an existing text like a recipe, job application, multiple choice quiz, script, or whatever! Here's an explanation of the form and a wide variety of ideas and examples. Have fun! 

 https://jmwwblog.wordpress.com/2022/10/18/its-an-experiment-hybrid-how-tos-with-arden-hunter-hermit-crabs-part-1-of-2/ 

I briefly considered attempting to write a poem using the directions from my colonoscopy prep kit, but you'll be happy to know I found something better. Each of us probably knows a federal employee who received (and may still be receiving) the now infamous DOGE-generated "What did you do last week?" email; where I live in Silver Spring, MD, we know numerous families where BOTH adults are feds and fed up. Me too.

In the spirit of resistance and gumming up the works, perhaps you'd like (federal employee or not) to share in approx. 5 bullets what YOU did last week. If* so, try this handy online generator; I like "Salty Mode".  I put in Teacher as my Occupation and it spat out 5 satisfyingly snide comments.

Thanks to our own Margaret Simon of Reflections on the Teche for hosting today; don't forget sign up for the April Progressive Poem party and to read the hermit crab poems of the other Inklings below!

Mary Lee Hahn @ A(nother) Year of Reading 

Catherine Flynn @ Reading to the Core, if it's our lucky day

Molly Hogan @ Nix the Comfort Zone

Linda Mitchell @ A Word Edgewise

Also sending congratulations to so many of our Poetry Friday family on new anthologies recently or imminently published! One is A UNIVERSE OF RAINBOWS selected by Matt Forrest Esenwine and the other is IF I COULD CHOOSE A BEST DAY, selected by Irene Latham & Charles Waters.  I'll take this opportunity to share a poem that NEARLY made it into this If* anthology, and then didn't. I'm still proud of it, and it will be published elsewhere soon...

And now, finally, your crab, having a bright idea:

Smithsonian Magazine

and the density of history:

Flower Power by Bernie Boston, 1967

sounds in a basement

Greetings, Poetry Friends! No, this post is not about my likely peptic ulcer, which came with a 2-week headache and has now thankfully calmed down, UNLIKE just about everything in my immediate environs here in Maryland, just 7 miles from the White House. 

No, this post might also be titled "Why I Do the Work I Do" and I hope you'll never get tired of me sharing raw poetry by kids in the wild, uncut gems shaken loose by 30 minutes of reading, playing and writing in a WHISPERshout Workshop.

This residency is with 2nd graders and is focused on Valentine's Day-adjacent themes of friendship, inclusion and social-emotional learning, with a hefty dose of figurative language to move us past "I like Allison. She is my best friend. We play together," if possible. (For a few 2nd graders, writing these 3 sentences is what's possible. No shade.)  So we read poems that use straightforward examples of this, like "A Purple Place" from my book SQUEEZE, and we play with describing emotions using this little guide:

Then off they go to write, and some kids need a reminder to pick up their pencil, and some kids need to show me their 60 words about chocolate chip cookies after three minutes ("I'm done!") and some kids don't say boo, and then I get home and find a poem by Zeke titled "sounds in a basement." If you know 2nd grade boys, you'll understand my "oh geez here it comes jump scare horror movie poem"--and then I read this:

sounds in a basement

are clicks and dings for games,

people talking on tv,

people talking in real life,

people doing workouts.

there are lots of sounds 

in a basement. but there 

is one that is the best,

love moving from person

to person.

Go on, shut down all the medical research, fire all the scientists at the NIH.* I know the cure for peptic ulcers, for plenty of other ailments: Take one poem--one raw, uncut gem of a 2nd grade poem--and be healed.

******

Thanks to Laura Purdie Salas and her beautiful new board books for hosting us today! And now that you're feeling, I hope, a bit restored and determined, here are a couple of ways to act on that, because *no, don't!

5Calls app: easily contact your reps with prepared scripts on your choice of issues

iPhone

Android   

INDIVISIBLE'S Practical Guide to Democracy on the Brink

and next Friday...

 

full moon rabbit's laundry advice

Greetings, Poetry Patriots--here we are pledging allegiance to the power of poetry to get us through tough times, one way or another. LFG!

Today I'm "sowing two seeds with one throw," which is of course the woke version of killing two birds, with an Instadraft™ for both the Inklings' monthly challenge and today's prompt from Laura Shovan's February Poetry Project, which has as its theme this year SPACE.

Mary Lee asked us Inklings to  Type a color into the search bar of public domain image archive and choose an image to write from. Hoo boy, I had not known what riches I was missing! I explored quite a bit (although frustrated that when I typed in my favorite the best color, turquoise, NOTHING came up) and then cheated, in the sense that I knew that the other prompt I was trying to meet would best be served by the color white. That prompt was

How do astronauts do laundry? Hint- they don't. NASA is working on it but maybe you can think of a way to help NASA, or what sparks your most memorable laundry day?https://www.mentalfloss.com/do-astronauts-do-laundry-in...  

So here you go, a 2-for-1 at the low, low price of my writing hour this morning!

Thanks to all who take the trouble to provide thoughtful, whimsical, wide-open, gently demanding impeti (I'm sure that's the plural of impetus) for writing, and to all who meet our responses with generosity. Can you tell that I'm leaning into community this week, as an antidote to the rank selfishness that's ordering and executing cruelty and uncertainty across the globe? Thanks for letting me lean on you.

Don't forget to see what the other Inklings have come up with, below, and thanks to Carol at Beyond Literacy Link for collecting and protecting our tender heartnotes today.

Mary Lee Hahn @ A(nother) Year of Reading 

Catherine Flynn @ Reading to the Core, who also has a moon poem!

Molly Hogan @ Nix the Comfort Zone

Linda Mitchell @ A Word Edgewise
Margaret Simon @ Reflections on the Teche

WHISPERshout Magazine Issue 1.25 out now! poems to light the dark nights

 

https://bit.ly/WHISPERshoutMag-CurrentIssue

This month’s issue features poems by 4th graders, all from the same class in a Title I school in Sacramento, CA. Each poem explores one or more kinds of light we humans use to light the dark, especially during the time of year when days are short and nights are long. In the Northern Hemisphere, that’s December.

Now that we’re halfway between the Winter Solstice (the shortest day of the year) and the Spring Equinox (when daylight hours equal nightdark hours) it’s nice to think that it’s getting brighter outside—even if it’s still cold! Enjoy....

(4th grade) poems to light the darkest nights

Greetings, Poetry People, from the squirmy seat of our nation's government. I left the first sessions of my Winter afterschool poetry workshops this week to find--hallelujah!--that it was not dark yet, and this tiny fact alone unleashed a bubble of optimism. Today I want to share a little story and some poems from a Teaching Artist project I did in December that, while related to those very longest, darkest nights of the year, is going to bring a bubble of optimistic light into your life right when you may be needing it the most!

Here's our poetry friend Patricia Franz and her niece, Anna Harris. (They look fancy and beautiful because they were at a family wedding last summer.) Anna is also Mrs. Harris, 4th grade teacher at a Title I school in Sacramento, CA. She was interested in doing more poetry with her students, and her Aunt Pat asked if I would be willing to talk with Anna. (As you know, Patricia is an accomplished poet herself, but wasn't sure about teaching poetry to kids. I believe she would have been QUITE helpful!)  I was willing, and in fact my first conversation with Anna turned into a whole 3-session workshop with Mrs. Harris and her class--my first over Zoom since I taught PreK on Zoom during the pandemic. (Yes, I was nervous; yes, there were glitches, and yes, we made it work across time zones.)

Anna's lovely, lively class of 20 kids includes many EMLs* and a number of kids still working towards 4th grade literacy skills, as you'd expect in a community challenged by low incomes. They were learning about winter holidays in many cultures and the role of lights, and to support their imagery, language and concept development, I asked Anna to prep for our sessions by having the kids make a related artwork of some kind. They did watercolor paintings featuring holiday lights, wintry weather (not necessarily Sacramento winter!) and night skies.

I brought in a collage and matching poem by me to establish that a poem is an artwork made of words; then we read bilingual poems by Francisco X. Alarcón to review how sensory details give a poem energy. We used Van Gogh's "Starry Night" for a collaborative writing warm-up, and as the workshop progressed, there was reading and sharing and acting out and a fire drill (all the classroom teachers say "OF COURSE!") and laughter and awkward breakout room tech and lightbulbs popping overhead and some magical moments like this one that Patricia described:  "I wish I had captured Ella’s DELIGHT when you read her poem. Her eyes were DANCING. She held her hands to her mouth as if in disbelief that this song coming from your mouth could be hers."

Oh, wait--did I mention that although Patricia does not live in Sacramento, she was actually THERE in Anna's classroom for one of the sessions? Yes! Aunt Pat visited her niece Mrs. Harris during the workshop week in December! It was just one of the many special things about this Teaching Artist project. I'm so grateful to Patricia, to Anna (whose own skilled art as a teacher was abundantly evident), and as always to the children, for being the reason I can muster resilience in a world that often feels too tough for tender me. All my bravery is on their behalf.

And without further ado...some poems and paintings by Mrs. Harris's 4th graders! (All will be featured in a WHISPERshout Magazine issue next week.)

Our host today is Tabatha the Brave, Tabatha the Broad, Tabatha the Deep, who shares her collection of poems by us about bravery for and in 2025. I'm always so grateful for her presence here and in the world. I didn't get my poem from a few years ago sent off in time, so I'll include it below and hope that's okay with everyone.  Be well and be bright!

*Emergent Multilingual Learners

tossing them out like confetti

Greetings, poetry people. Here's today's poem. I'm not holding myself to a new poem every single day--my one great wisdom as a writer over time has been understanding that, as an all-or-nothing type of person, demanding of myself that I do anything Every Single Day would lead eventually and directly to doing it not at all (including brushing my teeth; do not judge; I still have them all).    

Back to the poems, which I have been writing almost every day and posting--nay, tossing out like confetti onto the internet, usually on Instagram, sometimes on Facebook and sometimes on Bluesky (I left TwittX some time ago).  There's a certain madness in this--if I want to publish any of these in a journal, they are now "used goods" and not usually eligible for submission, but I've decided I don't care.  I'm sharing my wealth and celebrating with (biodegradable) confetti, like at a wedding, the marriage of my creative impulse and this day, neither of which are special or spectacular but which are what I have, what I am and what I can.  And since Nov. 6 in particular, I have trying to live according to this mashed-up advice from a reknowned UU minister and the tennis great Arthur Ashe:

~ love what you have, be who you are, do what you can ~

So here you go: have today's poem, in response to the Day 27 prompt from the MoSt New Year's Poetry Challenge which has been going on since mid-December. Coincidentally it is entitled "Purpose".

Do you follow me on IG? https://www.instagram.com/heidi_mordhorst_whispershout/

Are we friends on Facebook? https://www.facebook.com/heidi.mordhorst

Have you flown over to Bluesky? https://bsky.app/profile/heidimordhorst.bsky.social

And have you clicked to the right to follow me on Blogger after all these years? 🌞

Thanks to Kat Apel (well, hey there, friend!) for rounding us up today, and here's one last note of deep gratitude to the great Jimmy Carter, who with dignity and foresight chose the perfect moment to depart this mortal coil, reminding us all what public service in politics can look like.

age, trial, experience

Guys, I am really leaning into this "being enough" thing.

You can tell because I am the prompter of the Inklings monthly challenge again this January (we really should change that up), and I am recycling my prompt from last January! In some ways it's fair: I gave a choice of TWELVE prompts and most of us used just one, leaving plenty-eleven to choose from this year.

I myself, in keeping with this "being enough" thing, have selected the prompt that goes with our Yuletide gift of the human spirit for December 30, wisdom. We light the 10th candle, dark blue, and say, "Midnight blue is for wisdom, the understanding that comes with age, trial and experience."

I've gone for a golden shovel, and I guess I'm hoping that Himself won't read the blog this week. (If you do, DD, forgive me as I forgive you for making me the person I am today. **hugs!**)

Aging in Place


Long after midnight 

flashing red burns blaring over his blue. 

This is panic, not peace; it is 

no substitute for 

wisdom. 

His edges are blurred but not soft. The 

lengthy predawn texts bring understanding: 

that 

for some, more of the same comes 

with 

age, 

that what was always a trial is still a trial, 

and 

that some of us--bless--can't learn much from experience.

draft (c) HM 2025

Thanks to Mary Lee Hahn @ A(nother) Year of Reading for hosting us today, and go see what other gifts of the human spirit might be celebrated by our fellow Inklings this month!

Catherine Flynn @ Reading to the Core, who needs a bye this month 

Molly Hogan @ Nix the Comfort Zone

Linda Mitchell @ A Word Edgewise
Margaret Simon @ Reflections on the Teche

AND TO ALL A

playing poetry

Hey hi hello! Come in! I've got Daisy's new game all set up--it takes up practically the whole dining room table! What are you drinking?  Have a candy cane cookie--Duncan made them.

So, the way it works is, as the first Cue Giver, I choose a color from the first card in the deck. I eye it up and then meaningfully pronounce a single word that I hope will guide you all to place your markers on the exact same color on the massive matrix of hues on the board.  After the first round, I give a second,  two-word cue that hopefully gets you even closer to the color on my card--or I may need to CORRECT because my first cue sent you in the wrong direction.

You score points for guessing close to the actual hue, and I score points for giving cues that help you guess.

Are y'all ready? Oh, and you can't say any regular color words, of course.

SLICKER..........

Oh! Look what color you chose.  Hmmm.  Let me try this again.

GOLDENROD COPY..........

Whoohoo! You got so close this time!  My slicker was a few degrees more golden than yours, I guess. Next round; you give the cues.

"MINT................"

Oh, now, are you thinking the color of the actual mint that grows in my yard, or the "mint" that would be used on a website to describe a candle or a tablecloth?  Hmmmm. And which mint? Spearmint?  Peppermint? Catmint?  I'll place my marker here.  Give your second cue now.

"JERSEY SEAFOAM....."

That's a whole different mint-game, now! My next marker goes way over here into the murkier hues, I think...

What's that you say?

You think this is really a POETRY game?  Oh! Well, now that you mention it, it does scratch that itch some of us have when we say "Who chooses the names of these lipsticks and nail polishes and interior paint colors?!  Brazilian Rumba, Peach Melba, Dolphin Splash?  I could do that job."  Yes,  you definitely could!

Next let's play Poetry for Neanderthals!

I take card.
Make you from this team guess word by give clues.
My words all have just one sound.
No cheat, or one from that team bop me with blow-up club!
Go!

Big plant in my cave.
Light light light.
Small shapes hang on it.
Give drink each day.

Guess, team, guess!

Thanks for celebrating the Yuletide Day of Laughter with me and family, Poetry Friday Friends, and thanks to Michelle at More Art 4 All for hosting us on this 

    Happy Poetry Friday, Happy Holidays, & Happy Year’s End!

Adieu false profit & false prophets alike! Blessings of all hues be upon you friends, as you are upon me.

tiny stitches, enormous quilt

I  hope it's Nikki Giovanni Day.  Forgive me for ringing and running after dropping my offering; it's been a big week for me and WHISPERshout. (More soon on my visits via Zoom to a 4th grade classroom in Sacramento, facilitated by our friend Patricia Franz!)

This is the one book I have, from 2002, of the many poems that have come by and struck me. It's signed, which is a treasure. But you know from reading the stories and looking at the photos online that while many were struck from afar, it seems many more were touched closely by Nikki's--

I know what I sense but don't find my words, so I'll use hers.

apologies for poor image - click for a better one

Thanks to Linda at A Word Edgewise for hosting today--you know you'll find something lovely there! And it goes without saying that it would be good...to hold on to Nikki, just one so wonderful part of our chain.

not quite drawn and quartered

Greetings from Maryland, where it's 27* this Thursday night, with a "feels like" temperature of ELEVEN DEGREES---so I'm very glad that I tackled Molly's monthly Inklings challenge before all my senses froze over!  Molly's been reading Unlocking the Heart (a book whose cover does not seem to know that WINTER HAS ARRIVED), and she gave us this very open-ended prompt therefrom:

“Begin with a specific sensory experience (of taste, sight, smell, sound or touch), and see where that leads you.” 

 

This prompt is not what I was thinking of as I tucked myself into bed one night this week, adjusting for everything from plantar fasciitis to a tendency to clench my jaw, but I woke up in the middle of the night (another repercussion of passing through the middle of one's life) with this very specific and not especially welcome sensory experience in mind.

Still, I'm grateful for it. I'm grateful for the way that my gray-pink matter is still working away under my gray-brown hair and can cough up this gray-green memory of a smell, a time, a place, a revulsion strong enough that I can hang onto it until morning and want to write about it. That's something, right?

Check out the further sensory experiences of the Inklings below, and many thanks to Carol at The Apples in My Orchard for hosting us after waaaaay too long a drive!

Mary Lee Hahn @ A(nother) Year of Reading

Catherine Flynn @ Reading to the Core, who may need a bye this month 

Molly Hogan @ Nix the Comfort Zone

Linda Mitchell @ A Word Edgewise
Margaret Simon @ Reflections on the Teche

beyond fomo

 

NCTE24 is happening and I am beyond FOMO, friends; 

I simply am missing out, 

and it was my choice; I made my bed and now

I am lying in it, the same bed as always,

not an enormous one in a hotel in Boston, 

perhaps with a good friend across the room, 

painting amid the white sheets.

I'm here in my wee house 

watching Bluesky blow up

with announcements of 

panels and keynotes 

signing and meetups

while Google Photos helpfully encourages me 

to "revisit the moment,"

and I do, and I remember I chose this

instead of wincing at the cost, wondering what to pack, 

getting to the airport, navigating the convention site, 

and tolerating the overload of .... delight!

I will take delight in your delight, friends who attend,

from the comfort of my own home, and, 

preparing in leisurely fashion

for the holiday of gratitude I will give gratitude for the many years I did attend, how I learned to decide that I could go as teacher or as poet but probably not as both in that compacted weekend of four days; for the many people I met, "famous" and not famous, doing the sacred work of passing the word; grat-itude for the conversations, for the simple immersion in the practice of literature, and maybe,

just maybe, I will reconsider my idea that NCTE 

does not hold enough for me anymore and 

plan to go next year after all because 

this MO is FOrkin' painful!

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

WHISPERshout Magazine has been on a little hiatus while I worked out some kinks in my attitude (sooo many kinks in my attitude, friends; discernment is not for sissies, as they say), but the Editorial We is BACK!  Please enjoy work by kids ages 4-12 in this  November issue full of 

tiny ENORMOUS poems.

https://bit.ly/WHISPERshoutMag-Nov24

Thanking Ruth at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town for hosting us today--she always brings warm wisdom and a worldly view to our community.

a poem for the morning after

 Just this, from 6 am on 11/6:

Be, my friends. Be well if you can, be strong, be sanctuary if possible; be yourself.