Tag Archives: quarantine views

From the Scraps: NPM20 Day 26

These last couple of days have felt like summer.  Temps rising into the high 80s, cloudless deep blue skies, lengthening days and so much time at home–it’s hard to believe we are still in April.  And we came home from the grocery store with an artichoke yesterday; a huge, round, green globe that ended up as part of our dinner tonight…and the subject of today’s poem.

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In the Artichoke Scraps…

In the purple papery leaves

summer emerges

and I remember racing through the sprinklers

screaming as the cold droplets landed on warm skin

laughing with my sister

as we ran back and forth across the lawn

 

In the salty butter

I taste home

dinner like clockwork at 5

our family of 4 gathered around the dinner table

to eat and argue

mediated by dad and the dictionary

 

In the sharp spines

a fortress is present

circle the wagons

with our hearts, soft and tender, at the center

guarded carefully

closing tightly when necessary

 

In the leaves, the curves, the smells, and the taste

of an artichoke

lives

my childhood

home

comfort

and love

all wrapped up in a thistle

®Douillard

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Ordinary: NPM20 Day 25

Yesterday my students used Valerie Worth’s poem Safety Pin as their mentor text.  This is a poem we had studied earlier in the school year–when I discovered that many of my students didn’t know what a safety pin was!  Luckily, I had some safety pins in the classroom to show them.

With this poem in our remote learning environment, students were invited to craft a poem about an ordinary object–as defined by each individual.  I am absolutely loving watching my young poets find their poetic voices!

D chose a spoon as the ordinary object:

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E took on the power of paper:

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And M–although I wouldn’t use ordinary to describe a clam, chose a clam as the ordinary object:

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And I decided to write about my mask.

Mask

Cotton covering

keeping my respirations close

breathing in and out

my own air

warmed by each breath

unrelieved by the breeze

 

straps

rubber band

stretch

pulling

distorting sore ears

to hold the cotton close

 

only eyes peering above

can you smile with your eyes?

I’m learning how.

®Douillard

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Slant: NPM20 Day 24

Slant

It’s all on the slant

slippery and sliding

out of balance

out of whack

 

Vision limited

window views

front door views

only in the neighborhood views

 

Living small

the world in a box

screen eyes, screens eyed

encircled by a 6 foot bubble

 

Waiting to connect

reconnect, person-to-person

straightening slowly

until the slant

tips upright

into place

and balance

is restored.

 

®Douillard

 

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Poet-Tree: NPM20 Day 21

My daily walk to the mailbox is generally uneventful.  I follow the sidewalk down the hill, past the five or six houses that look similar to my own.  I notice the groomed lawns, the xeriscaped designs where lawns once grew, those miniature citrus trees.  And today, I noticed the tall thin palm dancing in the breeze.

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Inspired by the National Writing Project post, Writing In with #WriteOut, I wrote a Poet-Tree #smallpoem today.

Tree Dance

 

Against the azure sky

the lone palm dances

solo

slowly swaying

graceful fronds stretched wide

brushing the clouds

to the shush

of spring’s song

 

®Douillard

 

Question Poems: NPM20 Day 20

Have you written a question poem?  What questions do you have about them?  Can you compose a poem made entirely of questions?

I figured my students, who tend to have a million questions every day–both in person and virtually–would be experts at this poetry form.  To inspire and mentor them, I offered them Yellow Weed by Lilian Moore along with a guiding sheet (in lieu of face-to-face instruction) encouraging them to brainstorm possible questions, to include sensory details and imagery, and to thoughtfully arrange the questions they came up with.

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And their early drafts show promise.  I’m still wishing for more detail, more elaboration, more figurative language, but these 8 and 9 year olds poets are becoming more and more confident writers.

And then I ended up writing my own question poem about a yellow weed–one that I like to describe as a wildflower.  Wild mustard is not native to these parts, but it grows as if it is.  Wild mustard in the spring–with a little water and sunshine–grows lush and tall and is a riot of yellow!

Here’s my question poem–and I might have cheated since I ended with a sentence rather than a question.

Wildflowers

 

Who plants you by the side of the road?

Is it the wind as it picks up your wispy seeds and slings them wide?

How do you grow tall, so far over my head?

Do rain and sun grab hands and circle you with hope?

Where do you go when the sun is too hot, the ground too dry?

Can you melt back into the soil like an abandoned ice cream cone?

What keeps you coming back?

Do bees and butterflies remember your generosity and return to visit?

Why do I love you?

Tall yellow blossoms wave and sway

reminding me that after the dark and gray of winter, light and warmth will come.

 

®Douillard

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What question poem will you write?

 

 

Just Walk: NPM20 Day 19

A couple of days ago, one of our team members posted an invitation to write a “waterfall” poem on our SDAWPoetry padlet.  And then I read a piece written by a fellow blogger, Margaret Simon, about writing a poem using only one syllable words.  Somehow those two different approaches merged in my brain as I thought about the many, many walks I have taken around my neighborhood.  I thought about how those walks do not flow. I thought about the staccato steps taken over and over again.  For my eyes and brain, it is like watching an endless loop with the same view repeated over and over again.

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So I tried to capture my walks in a single syllable waterfall poem…the waterfall, I fear, has slowed to a trickle…dripping over the edge, syllable by syllable.

Just Walk

Walk

one foot

in front

of the next

up

the street

down

the street

same

steps

don’t stop

just step

look

step

watch

wave

nod

stay there

six feet

not

too close

don’t cough

or

sneeze

mask up

just walk

breathe

in

and out

find joy

in the small

live small

stay close

stay safe

keep

sane

just

walk

 

®Douillard

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I do try to mix things up from time to time, walk my route in reverse, try a new street, walk on the other side of the street…and of course search for new photography possibilities.  If only these lizards would stay still and pose!

Where Poems Hide: NPM20 Day 16

How is it that time both stands still and seems on permanent fast forward at the same time?  And in this warped dimension, I am looking for poems while also stuck in my house, my yard, my neighborhood.  I’m trying to figure out where poems hide.

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My latest photographic endeavor is trying to uncover which stray weed or bedraggled plant in my backyard will make an interesting photograph.  Combine these two unexpected and yet enduring constraints…and here is what you get:

Where Poems Hide

 

This ordinary weed conjures magic.

Get close.  When you do

 

you will discover

worlds

 

where miniature feathered fairy umbrellas

float

drifting along unmapped pathways

on invisible air currents

 

landing in cracks

on walls

in sidewalks

between mineral crusted rocks

on thick carpets of carefully groomed lawns

 

waiting for nature’s elixir

dew drops

raindrops

sprinkler drops

to set off the chain reaction

 

Sturdy stems root in

toes grabbing hold

standing firm

against weather

and weed whips

 

until a riot of sunburst yellow

explodes

polka dotting

unsuspecting landscapes

 

This is the place where poems blossom

hiding behind petals

floating on a child’s breath

 

listen closely

you’ll hear

the poetry of the

dandelion

®Douillard

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Water Works: NPM20 Day 10

Will it ever stop raining? We have gone from impending drought here in Southern California to several inches over our rainfall average for the year. Today alone we may have gotten more rain than we often get in months!

The downside of the nonstop rain is that feeling of being cooped up in the house. We’ve had no real breaks in the rain today…so I finally decided I would walk, rain or not. I got into my raincoat, grabbed my (mostly neglected) umbrella and headed out. The skies opened up about halfway through my walk. I pulled up my hood and popped the umbrella and forged forward. The walk was just what I need…

So today I offer a water poem.

Water Works

In this place

where skies

are desert dry

and sapphire blue

water pours

rushing down streets

pooling on lawns

snails skate

down sidewalks

worms

rise up

birds duck and cover

and I walk

soaking up

sky tears

breathing in

water-saturated

air

fully submerged

in today’s

water works

®Douillard