Climbing Poems
I climb
rung by rung
collecting words
wearing them like necklaces, strung together like pearls
I stretch higher
one foot pushing
one hand reaching
the blues:
cobalt, cerulean, azure
sing to me
a poem painting a layer of calm
a soothing lullaby reaching my ears and eyes
waves hush and roll onto the shore
step, reach, step, reach
breathe in the blue
and sing out nature’s wonder
as I climb poems
®Douillard
A walk on the beach also means noticing all the ways that people use the beach. There’s recreation, meditation, entertainment, sun bathing, fishing, castle building, rock stacking…and art. Today I came across some temporary art, raked into the sand. And later, farther down the beach, came across the artist creating another piece. And these circles, carved by an artist, became the basis for today’s poem.
Circles
Circles and circles and circles
around, round, rings
no beginning no end
bubbles bursting
balls bouncing
concentric layers
measuring time
scraped into sand
a canvas smoothed
by wave after wave
running up, retreating
an offering, a gift
space for imagination
to bubble and bounce
just a glimpse
at circles and circles and circles
until the sea
wipes it clean
to start fresh
with the next turn,
the next circle around the sun,
coming full circle
®Douillard
Sun Lover
In a perfect square of light
it sits
still as a statue: no twitch, no breath
letting the sun
charge each cell
warm every square inch
coiled energy
ready to unfurl
at the click of my shutter
skittering into the shadows
®Douillard
After more than a year of staying close to home, we ventured out this week, spending several days away from home. This morning represented our final leg–knowing we would land at home later in the day. We didn’t have a concrete plan when we woke up. We knew we had about 4 hours of a drive–and were in search of an adventure somewhere along that path. We considered some lakes (up in the Grapevine) and even talked about walking on our local beach once we got home. The beach! Why not explore a beach that is not close to home?
We decided we would head off to Malibu. A beach everyone has heard of, but so many people have not visited. We programmed the navigation and set out through the mountain pass. Clearly there are others who are also itching for some travel. LA’s freeways, while not at peak gridlock, were plenty full. Midway there, Google maps offered another route–one that would save us 11 minutes. We took it.
Once parked, we set off to explore the beach. Right away we heard the shrill sound of birds. What was that? Seagulls? What was going on? We watched as a huge cloud of birds lifted, screeching and calling. It happened again and again.
Cloud of Birds
A high pitched cloud
swirls up from the beach
whirling, cartwheeling
somehow sensing each wing
each beak
flying high, flying low
over the surfers, above the shore
moving in synch, as one
a crowd in perfect unison
terns turning
Is it murmuration?
®Douillard
A bit of investigation on our drive back home led me to discover that these are likely least terns, a tern variety recently at risk. I really don’t know if murmuration is specific only to starlings, but it was fascinating to watch these birds rise and fly and move as a group.
We loved our morning in Malibu. The weather was perfect, the crowds minimal, and the traffic manageable. A perfect ending to a bit of a spring break.
Faced with a long drive back home, we decided to detour and find some mini adventures on our way. It makes for a long day…but was filled with small surprises that provided the perfect fodder for some Haiku.
Wildflowers
Transitory sprites
conjuring springtime dreamscapes
also known as weeds
®Douillard
Wetland Walk
Basking in the sun
pulling me to look closely
turtle or a rock?
®Douillard
Geese
The gaggle gathers
lunch counter or wetland spa?
pause in reflection
®Douillard
Yellow: 10 Ways
fingers of light
reaching across galaxies
to warm and bronze
shoulders and noses
squeezed, zested, sliced
juice used a million ways
stomping and stirring
salty pools
with canary-yellow feet
sunshine on bread
melty, salty
tastes like a hug
middle light
triangular sign
pay attention: time for caution!
Crack!
out pops a downy feathered
chick
blossoming, towering
sprinkling the yellow-magic
of hope
over the world
kernels burst
flavoring the air
with scents
of summer
dressed in yellow and black
inviting new blossoms
to dance
in the silky springtime breezes
the blank page with
Traditional #2
searching and seeking
until I uncover
the secret of where
all the yellow poems hide
®Douillard
On the days when I am in the classroom, I am always paying attention to the potential mathematical patterns the date provides. And I have to admit, I’m sad that this great date fell on a Saturday (and during our spring break to boot!). Here’s my rough attempt at celebrating this rare mathematical date pattern in verse.
April 3, 2021
4, 3, 2, 1…blast off!
Numbers descending
stepping down
decreasing
by one
A date
marking time
beating out a rhythm
marching down the street
Eventually circling
holding hands
standing shoulder to shoulder
bow and begin
a dance of numbers
4, 3, 2, 1
®Douillard
If you know the state of California, you’re aware it is a long state connected by a freeway affectionately called The 5. After hours and hours in the car yesterday, I decided to write a poem…using only one syllable words…in hopes of capturing that long drive up that never-ending ribbon of road. (With a few photos for visual impact–all taken from the passenger side car window.)
Even with the best of intentions, my first poem for the first of 30 days of National Poetry Month is posted on day 2! Blame the road trip I set off on yesterday and the many other distractions that accompanied that start. But, alas, here is the poem…and expect another later today to “catch up”.
The temperature is rising
infecting us all
even in masks
We’re itching
to be outdoors
running
playing
lazing in the sun
Like cats we look for
that puddle of light
that will evaporate
the cold and dark
of winter’s shadow
And create
a tunnel of green
straight into
Summer!
®Douillard
Today students continued their work with photography after we read Tiny Perfect Things. We took the iPads and headed out onto the track around the field to uncover our own tiny (or not so tiny) perfect things. We then used Elaine Magliaro’s poem Things to do if you are a Pencil as a mentor text to get started on a poem to accompany the photo each student selected.
We didn’t get to any sort of publication today, so I don’t have student texts to share with you. That will have to come later.
But, I did write with my students, inspired by this photo and our mentor text.
Thinking Through My Lens 