Monday, April 13, 2026

GloPoWriMo Day 13 - the bamboo forest

 


Each day the folks at NaPoWriMo are offering a prompt, and I'll start there and see what happens. I'm using my daily drafts to work on a middle grade book with the working title of TREEOGRAPHY, so there will be a lot of tree drafts this month. 

APR 13

First read Walter de la Mare’s poem “A Song of Enchantment.” Then, John Berryman’s poem “Footing Our Cabin’s Lawn, Before the Wood.” Both poems work very differently, yet leave you with a sense of the near-fantastical possibilities of the landscapes they describe. Try your hand today at writing your own poem about a remembered, cherished landscape. It could be your grandmother’s backyard, your schoolyard basketball court, or a tiny strip of woods near the railroad tracks. At some point in the poem, include language or phrasing that would be unusual in normal, spoken speech – like a rhyme, or syntax that feels old-fashioned or high-toned.


                  __________________________________________

                                              the bamboo forest


the vertical green, notched and jointed, and the damp fug of summer,

bladed leaves that we know the pandas eat– should we maybe too try,

as a way to bite through this tight tropical hidden no-one’s land unlike

woods of any have we seen here in the four-season midatlantic? poles

receding upward into air, yellowing prison bars wearing flags of sky &

never have I, always the shortest in the class, never have I been shorter,

yet here tower I through eyes raised, longering limbs lingering amid

the dim whine of bugs and the gong of alone, a little hollowed & lost in

the bamboo forest–if you too are here, we’ll only know by the reverent

calling of our names.

draft ©HM 2026



Sunday, April 12, 2026

GloPoWriMo Day 11 - as tree has [man]

Each day the folks at NaPoWriMo are offering a prompt, and I'll start there and see what happens. I'm using my daily drafts to work on a middle grade book with the working title of TREEOGRAPHY, so there will be a lot of tree drafts this month. 

APR 11

Write your own erasure/blackout poem. You could use a page from a favorite book, a magazine, what have you. It can be especially fun to play with a book you don’t know, particularly one that deals with an unfamiliar topic.

I used this handy tool I found at Tricia Stohr-Hunt's April daily poem project and it presented me with--rather perfectly--a text from "Accepting the Universe" by John Burroughs As you'll see, I disagree!

https://fouuund.it/blackout/

"I do not see that Nature is any more solicitous about the well-being of man than she is, say, about the well-being of trees. She is solicitous about the well-being of all life, so far as the conditions of life favor its development and continuance — men and trees alike. But all have to run the gantlet of some form of hostile forces — the trees one kind, man another. What I mean is that evil in some form waits upon all hindrances, accidents, defeat, failure, death. The trees and the forests have their enemies and accidents and setbacks, and men and communities of men have analogous evils. Trees are attacked by worms, blight, tornadoes, lightning, and men are attacked by pestilence, famine, wars, and all manner of diseases. Every tree struggles to stand upright; it is the easiest and only normal position. Men aspire to uprightness of thought and conduct, but a thousand accidental conditions prevent most of them from attaining it. One tree in falling is likely to bring down, or to mutilate, other trees, as the moral or business downfall of a strong man in a community is quite sure to bring evil to many others around him. Trees struggle with one another for moisture and sustenance from the soil, and for a place in the sun, as men do in the community, and the luckiest, or the most fit, survive. Nature plans for a perfect tree as she plans for a perfect man, but both tree and man have to take their chances with hostile forces and conditions amid which their lot falls, so that an absolutely perfect oak or elm or pine is about as rare as a perfect man. Nature has endowed man with mental and spiritual powers which she has not bestowed upon trees."


Here's my redacted version, with a lot of manliness marked so we don't forget there are more than one kind of hu[man]!


As tree has [man]


Do not see any more

[man] than trees. 

All favor, all form, forces all:

trees and [men] analogous.

all manner stand upright;

one tree to other trees as

a strong community.

With moisture and sustenance,

a place in the sun, do

most survive—a perfect plan

for both tree and [man].

So absolutely oak or elm or pine,

as [man], has powers bestowed.



draft ©HM 2026


One more day to catch up!

Saturday, April 11, 2026

GloPoWriMo Day 10 - goodbye

Each day the folks at NaPoWriMo are offering a prompt, and I'll start there and see what happens. I'm using my daily drafts to work on a middle grade book with the working title of TREEOGRAPHY, so there will be a lot of tree drafts this month. 

APR 10

In his poem, “Goodbye,” Geoffrey Brock describes grief in three short stanzas, the second of which is entirely made up of a rhetorical dialogue. Write your own meditation on grief. Try using Brock’s form as the “container” for your poem: a few short stanzas, with a middle section in which a question is repeated with different answers given.

_________________________________

Goodbye


Some things I can’t come back to. Your trunk is gone, your stump is all that’s left. If I hadn’t known you whole, your stump would be enough.

How did this happen? With noise and careless sawdust in the air? How did this happen? Like a murder meditated in the night?

Your stump still speaks for you. And I can bring all five senses, let my own trunk and both hands topple in a pile of life on your ringed plinth.


draft ©HM 2026

GloPoWriMo Day 9 - encyclical from the cardinal

 


Each day the folks at NaPoWriMo are offering a prompt, and I'll start there and see what happens. I'm using my daily drafts to work on a middle grade book with the working title of TREEOGRAPHY, so there will be a lot of tree drafts this month. 

APR 9

Marianne Moore wrote on many themes… many poems about – or in the voice of – animals, such as “The Fish,” “Dock Rats,” “The Pangolin,” and “No Swan so Fine.” Today, try writing your own poem in the voice of an animal or plant, or a poem that describes a specific animal or plant with references to historical events or scientific facts.


This one is not at all in the style of Marianne Moore--I'll come back to that--and it's not springy, but my book will be all seasons, so here it is, a pantoum.

_______________________________________


Encyclical from the Cardinal



I rebel, my red against the gray:

All winter I surprise your eye again

While the planet’s ills around you weigh

While the air is chill and branches bare




All winter I surprise your eye again

My mate and I remind you, flashing cheer

While the air is chill and branches bare

We swoop and wing our joy: another day!



My mate and I remind you, calling cheer

However dread the news, my red rebels

We swoop and wing our joy: another day!

We do not leave; we weather it, we stay



However dread the news, my red rebels

While the planet’s ills around you weigh

We do not leave; we weather it, we stay

I remain the red against the gray.




Friday, April 10, 2026

GloPoWriMo Day 8 + poetry friday - not a being

Happy 2nd Friday of National Poetry Month! I'm plugging away at a little project using the daily prompts from the folks at NaPoWriMo. I'm aiming my drafts at a middle grade book with the working title of TREEOGRAPHY, so there will be a lot of tree drafts this month. I'm loving the wide variety of poets featured, especially the international names we don't see otherwise!

APR 8 (and yes, I'm a little behind! Watch this space...) In his poem, “Poet, No Thanks,” Jean D’Amérique repeats the phrase “I wasn’t a poet” multiple

times, while describing other things that he instead claims to have been. In your poem for today,

use a simple phrase repeatedly, and then make statements that invert or contradict that phrase.


____________________________________


not a being


“It’s not a plant”

too tall too gray too black

too rough too hard too solid

we don’t have to water it

it stands by the curb like a sign---

that’s not a plant


except for how it roots and drinks

how it grows from the soil

how it absorbs sunlight–sunlight!--from the air

how its billion built-in factories make

green sugar for the planet

a sign of life


“It’s not a person”

no eyes no ears no mouth

no lungs no heart no moving muscle

it can't communicate

it stands in one place in silence---

that’s not a person


except for how it sees and hears

how it breathes and beats its blood of sap

how it trades messages–messages!--through the soil
how it sends and receives information

through the wood wild web of 

fungal threads


it’s okay

you didn’t know


draft ©HM 2026


_________________________________________

APR 9


APR 10


_________________________________________

Our host today is Jone Rush MacCulloch, who greets us today with a gorgeous, looping, linking ars poetica. And of course, the Progressive Poem has been progressing (so sorry that I have been missing it all week; just a few dozen things going on here) -- catch up today as I will with Line 10 from Janet Fagal!


I got excited by Donna's addition of place names and had to join in...my version of the map here:




April 1 Tabatha Yeatts at The Opposite of Indifference
April 2 Cathy Stenquist at A Little Bit of This and That
April 3 Patricia Franz at Reverie
April 4 Donna Smith at Mainely Write
April 5 Janice Scully at Salt City Verse
April 6 Denise Krebs at Dare to Care
April 7 Ruth Hersey at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town
April 8 Rose Cappelli at Imagine the Possibilities
April 9 Margaret Simon at Reflections on the Teche
April 10 Janet Clare Fagel at Reflections on the Teche
April 11 Diane Davis at Starting Again in Poetry
April 12 Linda Baie at Teacher Dance
April 13 Linda Mitchell at Another Word Edgewise
April 14 Jone MacCulloch at Jone Rush MacCulloch
April 15 Joyce Uglow at Storied Ink
April 16 Carol Varsalona at Beyond Literacy Link
April 17 Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge
April 18 Michele Kogan at More Art for All
April 19 Kim Johnson at Common Threads
April 20 Buffy Silverman
April 21 Irene Latham at Live Your Poem
April 22 Karen Edmisten
April 23 Heidi Mordhorst at my juicy little universe
April 24 Mary Lee Hahn at A(nother) Year of Reading
April 25 Tanita Davis at Fiction, instead of Lies
April 26 Sharon Roy at Pedaling Poet
April 27 Tracey Kiff-Judson at Tangles and Tails

Tuesday, April 7, 2026

GloPoWriMo Day 7 - counting-in rhyme

 


Each day the folks at NaPoWriMo are offering a prompt, and I'll start there and see what happens. I'm using my daily drafts to work on a middle grade book with the working title of TREEOGRAPHY, so there will be a lot of tree drafts this month. 

APR 7 In her poem, “Front Yard Rhyme,” Cecily Parks evokes the sing-songy beats that accompany girls’ clapping games, and jump-rope and skipping rhymes. Today, we challenge you to write your own poem that emulates these songs – something to snap, clap, and jump around to.

https://www.napowrimo.net/


Tree Rounds

one tree, two tree, three tree, four

follow the path that starts at your door

beech tree, maple tree, willow tree, oak

pedal your bike, spin your spokes

magnolia, laburnum, tulip, yew

leaf, twig, branch, trunk, rumpled roots

find something, take something, acorn, nut

give something, anything–you’ll know what


draft ©HM 2026



Monday, April 6, 2026

GloPoWriMo Day 6 - a conversation

 



Each day the folks at NaPoWriMo are offering a prompt, and I'll start there and see what happens. I'm using my daily drafts to work on a middle grade book with the working title of TREEOGRAPHY, so there will be a lot of tree drafts this month. 

APR 6

In your poem today, try writing with a breezy, conversational tone, while including at least one thing that could only happen in a dream, after Yentl van Stokkum's It’s the Warmest Summer on Record Babe.



On the day this tree tells me its name it's not a dream


We know each other quite well now–we first met when I fell off the bus one afternoon, scraped my knee, waited for the bus to pull away and then limped over to sit and lean against it, throbbing with embarrassment. 

–I think only the bus driver noticed–said the tree, a towering southern magnolia.

--You think?--I said, catching a sob.

--Actually I know. It’s one of the powers of the Grandiflora.-- 

I had to know about the powers of this magnolia tree, I asked a dozen questions but not its name. I though it was called simply Grandiflora, that all similar trees shared this name, so a year later as I was using its untrimmed lower branches to hoist myself into the cool of its leathery leafcladding, I was surprised when it asked my name.

–What’s your name? You visit often but you’ve never introduced yourself.--

–I like to be called Sylvie,– I answered–but that’s not my real name. Is Grandiflora your real name?--

–My real name is Cerolia, and I’m not an it. I’m a we.--

–A “we”?--

–Most trees call themselves we. It’s the royal We, certainly, but also the plural we:

many branches, many leaves, many seeds, many offspring. You humans could be we too.--

–I see what you mean,-- I said, –so we are called Sylvie and you-plural are called Cerolia.--

–We are pleased to finally know your name, Sylvie.--

And Cerolia shook their waxy green, rust-lined leaves around us like laughing.

Saturday, April 4, 2026

GloPoWriMo Day 4 - front porch

Each day the folks at NaPoWriMo are offering a prompt, and I'll start there and see what happens. I'm using my daily drafts to work on a middle grade book with the working title of TREEOGRAPHY, so there will be a lot of tree drafts this month. 


APR 4
In his poem, “Spring Thunder,” Mark van Doren brings us a short, haunting evocation of weather and the change in seasons. Today, we’d like to challenge you to craft your own short poem that involves a weather phenomenon and some aspect of the season. Try using rhyme and keeping your lines of roughly even length.


Front Porch


Early warm and dark, 

every bird in the world cries hark, 

only me here 

to see full moon set near, just

behind oak, beyond clouds;

the nectar is loud–

redbud and dogwood, 

bees before dawn,

pink and green cream, 

spring stretches and yawns.


draft ©HM 2026


Friday, April 3, 2026

national poetry month 2026 - why are we here? what are we about?

Greetings to all who pass here on this Poetry Friday! (Orientation at this link.) 

On this ball of confusion that is the human world, Nature persists in doing her dependable gorgeous thing, offering us all the reasons we need to do our dependable gorgeous thing as poets. What, you may ask, is that thing, exactly?

Today you will receive answers! Not one definitive answer, but many possible answers, as Linda has offered the Inklings critique group this challenge for the first Friday in April (borrowing from the Poetry Foundation): "Write an...

  • Ars Poetica

  • A poem that explains the “art of poetry,” or a meditation on poetry using the form and techniques of a poem. Horace’s Ars Poetica is an early example, and the foundation for the tradition. While Horace writes of the importance of delighting and instructing audiences, many modernist ars poetica poets argue that poems should be written for their own sake, as art for the sake of art. Archibald MacLeish’s famous “Ars Poetica” sums up the argument: “A poem should not mean / But be.” (Poetry Foundation)


I thought of writing a new piece for this challenge, but knew that I had several already drafted to choose from (who among us has not contemplated the point of it all?), so I trawled my catalog and chose one to revise and update.  Plus I'm sharing a bonus type of one for kids that was published long ago in Sylvia Vardell's Booklinks column!  In both cases, I'm not about telling you what a poem SHOULD do, like Archibald MacLeish, but more about suggesting what a poet is TRYING to do, what a poem COULD do, COULD mean. In the first I imagine poets as engineers of a kind, as magicians, as day laborers, as movers.




In this one, poets are bakers, potters, cooks.


If I had to use fewer words, though, I'd just defer to our glorious, mysterious dead friend Emily Dickinson:



And now, here are links to my fellow Inklings' blogs, so you can see what they think the art of the poem is, and let's go and see what's brewing with the Progressive Poem, too! Thanks to Tabatha and Cathy; catch up here at Patricia's blog.

Catherine @Reading to the Core
Molly Hogan @ Nix the Comfort Zone
Linda Mitchell @ A Word Edgewise
Mary Lee @ A(nother) Year of Reading
Margaret Simon @ Reflections on the Teche

Thanks to our host for today, Matt at Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme, who's celebrating a shiny year for  A UNIVERSE OF RAINBOWS!  I'm delighted to say that I'll take my turn to host on April 17, with highlights from a conversation called "We Teach Poetry" that I held yesterday with Jone Rush MacCulloch and Margaret Simon. We entertained and educated each other greatly on Zoom, and I'm really looking forward to sharing some of our favorite approaches to teaching poetry to kids, why we think it's important in the first place, and how writing with kids sustains and inspires us. Don't miss it!

Finally, an extra bonus bonus: I found this poem at Jama's Alphabet Soup, featured back in 2021. What a fantastic ars poetica by a British poetry star, Carol Ann Duffy! (And it's a very British poem indeed.)