Showing posts with label Tricia Stohr-Hunt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tricia Stohr-Hunt. Show all posts

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!

Friday, August 7, 2015

don't believe me just swatch

This week at The Miss Rumphius Effect Tricia asked us to write a "timeline" poem.  I thought it was the ideal moment to write about some old watches I was dispatching during this my Summer of Declutter.  I'll say no more since I'm having a devil of a time with formatting today, except that our Poetry Friday host is none other than my local friend Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference. 



don't believe me just swatch

1
NYC 1986
sidewalk knockoff
of subway art
radiant, baby, in black and red
Thanks, Keith

 


2
London 94 and love is all around
on a Sunday I buy a new watch,
wear it to some weddings
but no one we know needs a funeral
we’re lucky






3
timetumbler 1996 flung
downunderbetween
weightless in the air over oceans
repatriated, do I come out
more polished?
 



4
Caterpillar Classroom 2001
sewing machine runs in fits and starts
patches of orangecoralpink & one red heart
4-year-olds keep me in stitches:
Mother’s Day quilt for my wrist




-Heidi Mordhorst 2015
 all rights reserved
photos from Swatch website



Wednesday, March 11, 2015

forward...smooCH!

In case you're just joining us, I and several intrepid poets (including you!) are writing 20 new poems this month in the Forward...MarCH Poetry CHallenge.  I've selected 20 verbs ending in -CH (the list is here) and today's word is "smooCH".  I guess I was in the mood for birthday kisses....

This one is a double challenge--it's crossposted over at the Monday Poetry Stretch with  Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect, where the CHarge is to write an ottava rima.


Birthday Ottava Rima

The day approaches like a kiss,
a smooch from the universe.
"Welcome, honeybunch! Follow your bliss!
Look what’s in your purse:
shiny swatch of that and this,
Book of Blessing, chapter and verse,
pebble and penny and pocketwatch
for hours of wishes and hopscotch.“

The day begins each year like a kiss,
a smooch from the universe.
“Forward, honeybunch! Follow your bliss!
There's nothing to do but immerse
yourself in this life.  Nothing's amiss--
or at least it could always be worse."
Bewitched by blessing, I follow a hunch:
I invite the whole world over for lunch.

HM 2015
all rights reserved

Who's smooching who today?   Leave your poem in the comments or send me an email.

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

Donna sends us a kiss-shaped diamante today:


Smooch

Soft, tender,
Healing, soothing, loving
Good-morning, all better, good-bye, I love you, good-night
Teasing, chuckling, tickling
Loud, whiskery
Grandpa’s smooch!

-- Donna JT Smith

Next up is Mary Lee, who surprises with this slime-borne kiss (ew cool):

SNAIL

My snail is mostly foot.
His mouth is really small.
So does he scale, or does he smooch
the glass of the fish tank wall?


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2015

Charles's animal smooch is less slime and more slobber!

RECIPROCATION
When I smooch my pooch
She slobbers me back,
I love being smothered
In her puppy attack.


Hee hee hee--Besame Smoocho!

Besame (No) Smoocho

A kiss is a peck or a
passionate surrender.

A smooch is not a kiss--
a smooch is an event.

Onomatopoeia
as performance art.

--Diane Mayr

And from far-off Utah, Kate Coombs joins the CHallenge!  Here's her "smooCH" poem (haven't we all known a guy like this?).

That One Guy

He’s smooth with his smooch
but not with his lines.
If he’d just keep quiet
he’d do fine.
First the ladies smile
and then they frown.
If he’d play silent film star
he’d win hands down.

—Kate Coombs

Carol is also joining the smoochfest with this one--it's so romantic!


Snowman Smooch

My snowman looked so forlorn.
He needed a mate to weather the storm.
I asked the children down the street
to find a partner for him to meet.
They molded and sculpted a beautiful one.
She came alive in the morning sun.
Then, her heart quickly melted away
as Snowman gave her a smooch that day.

--Carol Varsalona

Joy bring us a tiny mousie smooch:

I have a little mouse.
Kissie is his name.
He eeks and squeaks
and makes smooching sounds
whenever he sees a dame.

And now, in catching-up tour-de-force, Kate uses 7 of the words so far (plus 7 extras) in a poem as big as the 

Universe

The universe preaches, it’s giving us speeches
in words launching morning, like day moon, tree waking,
night going, clouds lighting, sky bluing, dawn breaking.
The universe stretches, it marches along,
sketching in daisies and wind and birdsong.
The universe twitches, it sews and unstitches,
with frog croaks and brushstrokes of reeds it unhitches,
with bug crawls and seedfalls and splashes in ditches.
It reads us the planets and points out the ants,
it watches the branches and fusses with plants.
Sky bleaching, sea reaching, the universe talks—
I listen to each of its beetles and hawks,
its message of bright and high hopes as I walk.

—Kate Coombs 


What a show-off, and I mean that in the best possible way.  Like in a Gerard Manley Hopkins way.  Golly.

I want to thank all of the participants so far for giving me this fabulous birthday gift--the Gift of Poetry!