forward...twitCH!

It's March 4th and we march forth with today's word, "twitCH."  Which twitch are you writing about today?

A Knotty Problem

When she’s learning to tie her shoes,
crossing and 

looping and 

wrapping the laces,
the slightest twitch

of a nervous thumb
can cause a beginner to lose 

her places!

HM 2015

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Donna's twitch is more internal than external...

Twitch of Sick

When I awoke this morning, I was feeling pretty low
and then I knew just where it was I really had to go -

The supper last night was a feast and tasted most delish;
no doubt, it was, when it went in a meal that was nutrish.

In my belly plans were changed, a new itinerary:
stop at tummy, turn around, a U-turn’s necessary.

I almost made it all the way I raced to lift the lid;
“Sorry, mom, I know I missed, I’m just a little kid.”

- a kid who has a not so funny, rumbly tummy twitch;
a twitch perhaps is not the word - a gastrointestinal glitch?  

--Donna Smith

Big apologies to Charles (whose title threw me WAAAY off and whose poem I missed--his twitches are internal but social  rather than viral:

SPEECH

Clothes doused in perspiration,

Right leg twitching like an

Over caffeinated squirrel,

Steady hums of monotone murmurs

Surround me, until my name,

Clear as a Wyoming sky, is called;

Lumbering toward the podium,

Clasping crumbled pages,

I look out, swallow,

Whisper out the words …

“Good morning.”

(c) Charles Waters 2015 all rights reserved.

 


Mary Lee's and Diane's twitches are distinctly feline...

HUNTER

Cat at the window
silent and still
squirrel on the porch
oblivious until...

twitch goes the tail,
smack goes the paw,
zoom goes the squirrel
now crossing the lawn.

©Mary Lee Hahn 

Indoor Cat

The chubby
cat's frame twitches
as she sleeps.
Sparrows taunt her
even in slumber.
Maybe my cat
sleeps twenty hours
a day because in
her dreams she
always comes in
for the kill.

--Diane Mayr 

And Laura Shovan's is clearly canine (bonus points for including itCH and scratCH too)...

Roll Over

My dog’s furry belly is pointing at the sky.
He wants me to scratch him. He wants me to try
to find the itchy spot that always makes him kick
and twitch, until he turns legs down
to thank me with a lick.  

Joy Acey brings us leporine (had to to look that up) twitches in her haiku--wish it felt so springy here!

Rabbit's whiskers twitch
over the fresh garden herbs
it's his spring dinner 

And Carol Varsalona captures perfectly tonight's big ??? about tomorrow's weather (which turned out to be "closed.") 

Which Will It Be?

The itchy, twitchy feeling
begins to swell.
I know it well.
People squirm
as weathermen tell.
Rain, snow, ice
Roll of the dice.
Which will it be?
Tomorrow we'll see.  

Leave your poem in the comments, or send me an email by clicking the link at right.

forward...stretCH!

This is Day 2 of our Forward...MarCH CHallenge.  By the end of MarCH I will have written 20 new poems for CHildren, and you will have added who knows how many more! 

Our word today is "stretCH" and I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect for faithfully offering a Monday Poetry StretCH most weeks to all who would partake.  CHeck it out --we're having scallops this week!

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HM 2015
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And now for a really good laugh...

StretCH yourself today and leave your "stretch" poem in the comments or send it by email!  I'd love to add yours to the MarCH CHallenge board (and remember, there's a prize for the StretCHiest MarCHer!).

First to join in today is Charles Waters, who ought to go out sans Dan now and then!

MAUREEN

I stretch my neck to be seen by Maureen

So she’ll notice me at last.

Got a fresh haircut, new contact lenses,

Worn out clothes are in the past.

She catches my eye, smiles, gives me a wave

I wave back fast as I can

Until she busts out laughing with her friends

She waved to my best friend Dan.

(c) Charles Waters 2015 all rights reserved.

Diane offers this tiny number--is it her stretch?  or her cat's?

6:45 alarm
a very un-lady-like
stretch

Donna surprises with this one about letting your insides show through writing.  I love the title.

Little-By-Inch

I wrote for myself
And some to the sky;
I wrote as if no one should
Hear me walk by.
Little by inch,
My thoughts opened wider
Till someone exclaimed,
“We can see what's inside her!”
No one was laughing,
They didn’t leave,
Everyone stayed there;
I heard myself heave
a sigh of relief,
And then I wrote more
and started a stretch
that opened a door -
A door that will only
close at the end when -
my “Once upon” time
with flourish of pen
concludes with “happily”,
“ever” and “after”
And signs off "Sincerely,
Word-happy Crafter".

Donna Smith

And from Mary Lee, a big question about little, faraway things:

PERSPECTIVE

Orion's arms and legs and sword
stretch clear across the sky.

Yet if I hold my thumb to him
he seems to be that high.

Why?


©Mary Lee Hahn, 2015  

Joy joins in with a hint of spring:

johnny-jump-ups stretch
smiling faces toward the wind
jumping up and down.   

 Thanks to all  for playing! 

forward...marCH!

Microsoft Clip Art

Yes, we must begin the official poem-per-weekday with the word that started it all:  marCH.

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Several folks have joined the parade!  Thanks to Diane...

Birthday Girl

At one of my first jobs
I met a girl whose birthday
was March 4. She proudly
told me, "My birthday
is the only one that is
a command!" I'll always
remember her birthday--her
name? That's another story.

--Diane Mayr

And to Donna...

Ma Nature’s spring -
Arch of birch,
"Rah!” and “Ah!” - cheers and whispered sighs for the
Charm of a sweet, soft, “No
Harm” breeze.

--Donna Smith

Thanks to Joy...

In March daffodils
bloom and bow upon the hill
faces in the wind

--Joy Acey

and to Carol...

March,
why do you roar in the wake of white?
Choose crystal flakes with a snappy bite?
Linger in snow of inches deep?
Don't let yellow daffodils peep?

March,
why did you march in today
with heavy snow marking your way?
Let Mother Nature take a bite
and chilling temperatures escort daylight?

Long Island,
I came today to fool the crowd
and stir the pot with a voice real loud.
I chose to enter in a crown of white,
not thinking it would bring a fright.
Ask me to stay for just awhile.
I promise I'll exit with a smile.

--Carol Varsalona 2015

Thanks to Mary Lee...

MARCH

March swoops in low
on the wings of a crow

caw caw cawing
at a hawk.

March flashes red --
cardinal's head

in a bold show
contrasting the snow.

March sings, when
at the feeder, wren

points joy to the sky,
lets notes fly.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2015

and to Charles!  Follow his link and all the others to see where these poems are coming from...

SNOWBANK HILL

As I’m marching down Snowbank Hill

Crunching on filigrees

I looked upon the watermill,

Frozen by winters chill

Shivering next to stripped down trees.

I know it won’t be long until

Temperatures warm up, yes they will –

For now, I dream of summer’s breeze.

(c) Charles Waters 2015 all rights reserved.

forward...launCH!

As announced on Friday, I'm embarking tomorrow on a birthday month poetry challenge inspired by fellow Piscean Laura Shovan's February Poetry Projects (if you haven't, check out three years' worth here, here and here).

I got to thinking about the word "MARCH"  and all the other great words that end in -CH.  I realized that I have a particular fondness for words that end in -ch; they show up in my poems again and again.  So I'll be stretCHing myself to post five -CH poems weekly throughout March.  I'm allowed one previously published per week, but most will be brand-new.

Please join me in this CHallenge, poetry friends!  If you can't write with me every day, maybe you'll share your one or two per week, or your five-in-a-row, or your favorite poem by another author including the -CH word of the day....I welcome your participation, however you choose to do it!

I'll post my poem each evening, and you can send me yours by email or by leaving it in the comments for that post.  I'll round up as we go and on Sunday mornings, and at the end of the month there will be a PRIZE for the "StretCHiest MarCHer" who contributes the most poems!

To get us started, here's a poem from my first book, Squeeze: Poems from a Juicy Universe (2005).  I'm hoping this will encourage the crocuses that I know are out there straining against two layers of frozen snow!


Launch

Crocuses are rocketing
            inch by inch
                   out of the crumbled earth

the yellows aim for the sun
the purples push          toward deep space

         and inside
little astronauts in orange suits
    cock their ruffled helmets
                                toward spring

Heidi Mordhorst
all rights reserved

And here is the collection of -CH words, one muscular verb for eaCH weekday of MarCH, that I'll be using to enriCH my little patCH of the Kidlitosphere with as muCH poetry as I can.  It should be a cinCh, but if I find I'm parCHed of poems and miss a day, then ouCH--but I'll reaCH in and try again.   Don't believe me?  Just watCH!

Forward...MarCH CHallenge: Dates and Words

2 march
3 stretch
4 twitch
5 punch
6 fetch

 9 preach
10 sketch
11 smooch
12 pitch
13 arch

16 inch
17 lurch
18 botch
19 lunch
20 hatch

23 clutch
24 crouch
25 snatch
26 perch
27 quench

pf roundup & forward...march!

Greetings to all and welcome to the last Poetry Friday round-up of February! I'm delighted to be your host as we leap over this year's invisible 29th into March, my birthday month.

Inspired by fellow Piscean Laura Shovan's February Poetry Projects (if you haven't, check out three years' worth here, here and here), I got to thinking about the word "march."  What a great word!  In addition to being the month of the god Mars, you can slow-march to the beat of your own drum or quick-march someone else off to their room.  You can play a march with the band, you can lead a march to demand rights or protest wrongs, and you can observe the march of time or progress.  The origins of this meaning of "march" are quite old, dating to when the Franks and even the Indo-Europeans before them marked off boundaries by foot.

Best of all, "March" is a tasty mouthful.  That -ch ending is explosive, definite; and yet it also has a softness, a long-lasting breathy end that belies its hard beginning.  As I considered this -ch sound, I realized that I have a particular fondness for words that end in -ch--they pop up again and again in my poems--and a project, a challenge, was born!

So here is a collection of -CH words, one muscular verb for eaCH weekday of MarCH.  I'm going to stretCH myself to post five -CH poems weekly throughout March!  A few will be previously published, but most will be brand-new. Please join me in this CHallenge, poetry friends!  If you can't write with me every day, maybe you'll share your one or two per week, or your five-in-a-row, or your favorite poem by another author including the -CH word of the day....I welcome your participation!


MarCH CHallenge: Dates and Words

2 march
3 stretch
4 twitch
5 punch
6 fetch

 9 preach
10 sketch
11 smooch
12 pitch
13 arch

16 inch
17 lurch
18 botch
19 lunch
20 hatch

23 clutch
24 crouch
25 snatch
26 perch
27 quench

I'll repost each word on its day, and you can send me your responses by email or leave them in the comments for that post.  I'll share all the responses for each week on Sunday mornings, and on March 31st I'll announce the "Stretchiest Marcher" (the poet who responded to the most words) and send a poetry prize his or her way!

Oooooooohhhh noooooooooo!  Returning from school I accidentally deleted all the round-ups I'd written after 1pm, from Irene (22) through Tricia (34).  And then, hoping to retrieve them, I accidentally deleted all the roundups I'd written this morning!  Woe is me, woe are us!  Luckily, we have the blue frog working for us and I think your links are all still there.  My apologies, but I'm just going to leave it this way.

Thanks for stopping by--I look forward to reading each and every post thoroughly!

    An InLinkz Link-up

   

sound poem

I've been wanting to celebrate with Laura Shovan this month and not quite getting there, so our 2-hour "cold delay" (???) this morning seemed like a great opportunity to catch up and write in response to a couple of Laura's Sound Poem Project prompts.





Sadly, my internet seems to be freezing in the pipes along with everything else, and I can't follow the sound links Laura has posted (and I have no idea what's going on with the formatting)...but I can listen to my house waking up and to the crazy creatures outside who don't appear to know that we are setting record low temperatures here in the DC area. It's currently 7* with a wind chill of...





Nine Below Zero





below below
the frozen mark
there's whish and sweep
of wind, and hark--





below below
the frozen sky
snow-winged birds
let fly their cry





below below
the frozen branches
blubbered squirrels
announce their antics





below below
the frozen ground
the bursting bulbs
murmur a sound





of sleeping green,
of hushed persistence...
below our listening:
spring's existence





HM 2015
all rights reserved



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


Well, that insta-poem turned into less sound and more my desperate hope of winter's end!  Please join Linda--and Laura--over at TeacherDance for today's round-up.

hearts again and why not?

http://stuffpoint.com/love/image/39530/

I have posted this poem before, on a quite special occasion since which my Beloved and I have tied the knot yet again in the state of Maryland.  And those pieces of paper we got officializing our marriage are pretty important for many social and political and financial and legal reasons.



But this string of words--that's all they are, which is the miracle--expresses a connection which must touch the inside, human place in everyone who has loved.  Now let that "hollow muscular organ that is the center of the circulatory system" fill up and become your Heart.

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
....................................i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

~ e.e. cummings

The heart of Poetry Friday will no doubt overflow with  love this Valentine's Friday at Merely Day by Day with Cathy.

rampant spatulation

Spatulence

When will we ever, ever learn?

Her job is just one thing: to turn

the pancakes so they will not burn.

But when we call her to the task

(golden brown is all we ask)

she does not hop to speedy fast.

We shake the pan; she won’t come near.

She sticks her fingers in her ears,

shows us that she will not hear,

 singing “Spatu-la-la-la-la-la,

             spatu-la-la-la-la-la!”

I will say, I don't know about this one...what do YOU think?  Get lots of helpful opinions at the PF Round-up, hosted today by Liz at Elizabeth Steinglass! 

 

HM 2015

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revision II

I'm just ruminating over my last three poems, where I got going on a set of Spoon, Knife and Fork.  Atypically for me, all three are rhymed, similarly metered, and all share a basic 4-line stanza. I could keep going like this for a while, I guess, picking kitchen items and writing each its little ditty (see all the "Deeper Wisdom" poems featured at Today's Little Ditty, of which "What Does the Knife Know?" is one).

But would that make a readable collection, a saleable collection?  When I started typing this, I was planning for the answer to be "NO; that would be a little boring and samey and in a way unchallenging for both writer and reader," and then I was going to contrast that with any collection of "traditional" haiku, which would be therefore by its very nature boring and samey and unchallenging, and then I was going to wonder why haiku collections don't seem that way.

And then as I entered that second paragraph, I got walloped upside the head by Jack on one side and Shel on the other, and A.A. Milne appeared to wag his clever ghostly finger in my face, reminding me how many, many classic poems and entire volumes of poetry for children are rhymed and metered and kind of about the same things (although not usually kitchen items).

Now I'm wondering what it is that makes me want a new shape, a new rhythm, a new challenge each time I begin a poem. I never cook the same recipe or meal the same way twice, and at school I'm forever devising new greetings, new center activities, new routines (and creating a lot of work for myself).  While I craved novelty as a kid, I understand that for many students, sticking with one thing for longer is what's needed for competent mastery, and that too much "new" can be stressful.

Well, it seems that in the spirit of my OLW for 2015, I'm revising my 2nd-paragraph thinking.  I still think it's important for young writers to learn that poetry is not all rhythm and rhyme, and that for most beginning writers those things are hard to pull off and probably best avoided.  But golly, when 2/3 of a class of kindergarteners need to be TAUGHT to hear rhyme instead of having grown it into their bodies, and in the knowledge that I am not a beginning writer myself and quite enjoy the challenge of hewing to a rhymed and metered form, perhaps Spoon, Knife and Fork are suggesting a less varied--but no less tasty--diet of poetry for now.

Revision (with apologies to A.A. Milne)

Heidi Heidi
Mordhorst Mordhorst:
As teacher and poet she
Took great
Care to seek freedom,
Craving the novelty.
Heidi Heidi
Said to herself,
"Self," she said, said she:
"You must never get stuck at the end of the town
  called Free-Verse Poetry."

HM 2015
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Today's Little Roundup is with Paul at These 4 Corners.  Hope to see you there!

it had to happen: the fork poem

Tine After Tine

tuning fork for matching pitch
long-handled fork to scratch an itch
fork in the road to force a decision
(fork not as good as knife for incision)

garden fork for hard-packed soil
forklift spares your back the toil
bicycle fork suspends your wheels
favorite fork: the one at meals

HM 2015
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deeper wisdom: what the knife knows

Illness precluded a Friday post, but a visit to the doctor (combined with 72 hours forced rest) has led to a slight improvement and a Saturday post.  In response to the Ditty of the Month Club challenge hosted by Michelle Heidenrich Barnes and inspired by Joyce Sidman's work in Winter Bees, I offer the following.  Like Liz Steinglass, I opted to explore the wisdom of an everyday object rather than of nature, and I took a little liberty with the form as well.


What Does the Knife Know?

What does the knife know?
    Red tautness of tomato's skin.
        Onion's shallot's garlic's kin.
    Juicy slick of vitamin.   
        Jolt of pit or stone within.

What does the knife know?
    Tender coarseness of the crumb.
        Whack of steel on boarden drum.
    Whorl and loop don't armor thumb.
        Better bleeding cut than numb.

Heidi Mordhorst 2015
all rights reserved
  
I have only just realized that knife goes with spoon.  I guess a fork poem is on its way...and is anyone else having trouble, as they read these deeper wisdom poems, screening out repeated mental blarings of "What does the fox say?"

pick up an object: spoon poem

I liked
Amy's idea and Hope's spoon
so much last Friday
that it carried me
like a weebling egg
to this:




Scoop

scoop of my heart
in a crude wooden spoon
scoop of my heart
soured and soon

there will be nothing left
no sweetness or cream
bowl will be empty
empty will dream

of scoops of white foam
spoonfuls of fizz
filling my heartbowl
where yearning is

HM 2015
all rights reserved


Go live at Live Your Poem today with Irene and the rest of the Poetry Friday crowd.  How I miss you all between Fridays!