I know the path
like the back of my hand
worn, familiar
yet infinite
Gray traces objects
in pencil
shaded in silver
smudged with dampness
Sunset brings out
the silhouettes matted
against every hue of orange
details darkened
by end-of-day light
Sunshine draws in marker
bright, brilliant, bold
contrasts
spinning on the color wheel
One foot in front of the othe
tracing the veins
the wrinkles
each knuckle and nail
as I walk
this familiar
and new-each-day
path
®Douillard
It’s not unusual to find old balloons when we walk on the beach. What was once bright and shiny, filled with Helium and lifted aloft in celebration becomes a beach hazard. Danger for sea creatures and birds, eventually becoming micro plastics that endanger us all. And while we find these damaged symbols of festivity along the shore, I always wonder where their journey began. Do they escape from backyards? Bob out of car windows? Escape from the small hands that delight in these bouncing beauties?
My poem today tries to capture that dichotomy in words…along with the photo of the mylar balloon we found onshore today.
Balloon Dichotomy
Bouncing, floating
a bright smile against the blue sky
celebrate
a breath of air
becomes lighter than air
drifting upward, dancing with the breeze.
Until
it takes flight, escaping bonds
dropping lower and lower
caught by the sea
washed out
washed up
plucked from the shore
and deposited
as trash
®Douillard
I never need an excuse to walk on the beach, but if I did need one, low tide is the best of all reasons! Though gloomy and gray today, the tide was nice and low, giving a wide expanse for walking and exposing the intertidal zone–more commonly known as tide pools.
Most of the time when I peer into the tide pools I see sea anemones, mussels, and crabs, some sea grass and algae and not much else. We often talk about how rare it is to see a sea star–even though they are native to our area. Today as we walked near the tide pools, my husband noticed a woman putting what looked like sea star into a shallow pool. We headed in that direction.
Sure enough, there it was. A quite large–the size of my hand or maybe bigger–sea star was sitting in the pool. As we stopped and looked we could see the tiny tube feet moving, propelling the star–it was alive! So many questions–where did she find the star? Was it in one of these shallow pools? Was she rescuing it, returning it to the watery pool? Or did she pull it from a pool and was now returning it?
As we left, the tide was on the way up. I’m sure the sea star will find its way back to the place where it lives, somewhere where I seldom see them. I’m glad I got a close look today…so it could provide fodder for today’s poem.
Seeing Stars
Stars in the inky sky
wink, tiny night lights
creating pictures
like dot-to-dots
Under the sea
stars undulate
moving on tiny tubes
unexpected treasure
®Douillard
Green
Dressed in chlorophyll
perfect frame, green stacked on green
precursor to brown
®Douillard
Today we learned about William Carlos Williams and studied his iconic poem: This is Just to Say. Students were quite excited about the idea–especially when I encouraged them to be playful. They apologized to their dogs, to chairs, to brothers, and more.
Me…my apology poem was dedicated to my feathered friends: snowy egrets.
A Snowy Egret Apology
I have taken your photo
hundreds of times,
never asking your permission
You probably wish
I would leave you alone
or just admire
you with my eyes
from a distance
Forgive me
your bright yellow feet
and delicate as lace feathers
are too gorgeous to resist
®Douillard
On day 20 of the poem-a-day challenge, we tackled the list poem. Using Eileen Spinelli’s Creativity as our mentor text, we studied how this list poem was constructed. Students noticed the list of ordinary objects, pointed out the rhyme, saw the punctuation and got ready to create their own lists.
Often, I base my poems on a photo I’ve taken. But today, I decided to write my list poem about poetry…and found myself putting bits of language from my students into it (including that rat from yesterday!). Here’s my first attempt:
Poetry
Poetry
swirls together
sights and sounds
popping like popcorn
then paints on details
like the furry mountain
that was once a rat
you can smell
the tropical sunscreen
slathered on tender skin
and climb the Eiffel Tower
to view the sights
of Paris below
Poetry
links animals and machines
growling and leaping
flowers and candy
sweet, tasty, colorful
blooming in my imagination
quenching my thirst
with cool, fizzy, wetness
that takes my to the seashore
where poetry lives
®Douillard
A week or so ago I experimented with 6-room poetry with the poem Yellow Bird. Today my students and I tackled this approach–using a moment from our weekend as the topic for the poem. I wish you could have heard my students’ efforts–the one about the dead rat (really?) described as a mountain of fur, the outdoor haircut, and more.
Of course I wrote alongside the kids, using my unexpected dousing by a rogue wave on my walk on Sunday as my moment for the poem. And here it is:
Oops
April beach day
full sun
birds squawking
kids squealing
laughter floating
on the gentle sea breeze
Sun’s shine sparkles
dancing on the endless blue
birds dine
darting in and out of the surf
I squat low, creeping close
slowing turning my lens
to focus
on those long beaks, curved like straws
Out of the corner of my eye
I see it
I hear the rush
whoosh, shush
My movements seem
like slow motion as I stand
and run toward the shore
Too late!
I feel the cold
creep up, soaking
my leg from ankle to thigh
my jeans heavy
from the briny wetness
Surprise floods my brain
Phew! Luckily my camera
is dry
Click, click, click
®Douillard
I’m always surprised when I find ladybugs crawling around on the beach. What brings them there? The shoreline just doesn’t seem like a place they would be! But then again, seeing ladybugs always fills me with wonder. These tiny perfect things are such fun to watch and to photograph.
Ladybug
When a poem lands on your shoulder
pay attention
watch the candy-apple red
fire engine bright
shiny cherry lollipop
crawl down your arm
Tiny black polka-dots
dance out
words
nature’s unexplained mysteries
compacted in this tiny jewel
®Douillard
A Saturday drive led us to a roadside attraction–and a poem.
Roadside Attraction
Not to be missed
pepto-pink dinosaur
large enough to house a gift shop
garish T-rex
with a view through
carnivorous teeth
visible from the back seat
on an endless car ride:
the perfect stop.
Who imagined
concrete dinosaurs
as large as life
beckoning
drawing us back
to the land before time
with a perfect robin’s-egg blue sky
and rocky, snow-topped mountains
as the backdrop.
®Douillard
Thinking Through My Lens 