Thursday, March 21, 2019

March 22, 2019

Welcome, dear Poetry Friday.  I've been busy this week with work and family and writing. I look forward to the reading treasures I'll find in you. Thank you, Sloth Reads for hosting today's round-up. I see you've been busy too!

Andō, Hiroshige, Artist. Zoushigaya Fujimi Chaya. Japan: Tsutaya Kichiz". Photograph. Retrieved from the Library of Congress,

Kyoto: March

A few light flakes of snow
Fall in the feeble sun;
Birds sing in the cold,
A warbler by the wall. The plum
Buds tight and chill soon bloom.
The moon begins first
Fourth, a faint slice west
At nightfall. Jupiter half-way
High at the end of night-
Meditation. The dove cry
Twangs like a bow.
At dawn Mt. Hiei dusted white
On top; in the clear air
Folds of all the gullied green
Hills around the town are sharp,
Breath stings. Beneath the roofs
Of frosty houses
Lovers part, from tangle warm
Of gentle bodies under quilt
And crack the icy water to the face
And wake and feed the children
And grandchildren that they love.

Snyder,Gary.“Kyoto: March by Gary Snyder.” Poetry Foundation, Poetry Foundation,


a forsythia
dons a yellow rain slicker
rain giggles and runs

Thursday, March 14, 2019

Listening to Poems About Climate

Poetry Friday, you've arrived. Thank you. It's been a long are welcome respite.

Harris & Ewing, photographer. Joseph Burton Kincer, Principal Meteorologist, Chief of Division of climate and crop weather. [or 1939] Photograph. Retrieved
from the Library of Congress

Heidi, at My Juicy Little Universe has invited us to address today's school strikes around the world in protest of climate change. There is much to learn about today's events...starting with Greta Thunberg of Sweden ( @GretaThunberg ).

I'm watching with interest. Truth be told, I'm scared to death of actually being IN a protest. I have opinions to be sure. But, the act of getting out in the mix of a protest crowd is not anything I've done. These young people are teaching. I am learning. 

I looked for the perfect poem to share for today. I'm not sure there is ONE perfect poem. However, I stumbled upon twenty astoundingly beautiful poems here:

The best part? Each poem is read by a British actor....all one needs is a set of earbuds. The text of each poem is provided so you can read along if you wish. And, you can download the poems to a device. 

by, Michael by Jeremy Irons

Wind-wounded, lopsided now
Our mighty beech has lost an arm.
Sammy the demolition man
(Who flattened the poet’s house
In Ashley Avenue, its roof
Crashing into that homestead,
Then all the floors, poetry
And conversation collapsing)
Slices the sawdusty tons,
Wooden manhole-covers,
An imagined underground.
Beneath a leafy canopy
The poet, on my seventieth,
Gazed up through cathedral
Branches at constellations.
Where is he now? Together
We are counting tree-rings.

Thursday, March 7, 2019

International Women's Day

Happy Poetry Friday!

This week, I am answering a call from our round-up host, Catherine at Reading to the Core, who asked us to write something related to International Women's Day.

I've never celebrated this day. I had to look it up.  How could I have missed it? I do love this year's theme


The theme points to the goal of gender balance in our world.

I have two short items today.

First a skinny inspired by Mao Zedong's often repeated quote, Women hold up half the sky.

Women hold up half the sky
half the sky, women hold
(c) Linda Mitchell 2019


Some branches of my family tree


Huldah the prophetess said, “ because you humbled yourself...tore
your clothes and wept before Me...I truly have heard you,”
2 Chronicles 34: 24-27

Huldah 1843-1910

windswept hilly land
farm without grace…or reward
soil for thistle

family bible
a hand-scratched name my only
connection to you

granddaughters live in your dreams
poetry foretold

II. Resolved, that the women of this nation in 1876, have greater cause for discontent, rebellion and revolution than the men of 1776. -Susan B. Anthony, Seneca Falls, NY

Huldah's daughter, Mary 1876

born one hundred years
after her nation’s first cries
American girl

molasses cookies
milk fresh in the tin bucket
a farm girl’s fancies

widow and mother
sweat and tears provide her salt
bitter seasoning

married fresh anew
father for growing daughter
boy’s birth a blessing

III. The work of today  is the history of tomorrow,
       and we are its makers. -Juliette Lowe 1916

Mary's daughter, Mabel 1900

my beautiful one
one thousand stars shine for you
night sighs with envy

missing a father
does not diminish your drive
teacher’s diploma

bringing up brother
makes step-father happy
all rise with this sun

Da’s rosary beads
religion and ritual
the only true faith

no beau no marriage
for Mabel…an auntie
for generations

(c) Linda Mitchell

Thursday, February 28, 2019

Riffing on Poetry of the Forties

Happy Poetry Friday

This week's round-up is hosted by Linda at Teacher Dance. She's worked some magic with anagrams and the new spring that comes with March. Just amazing, her poem.

I've been following A History of American Poets of the 20th Century with Lee Bennett Hopkins at Renee LaTulippe's No Water River. It's a rich presentation that includes readings from both Renee and Lee.

Episode three is poets of the 1940s. I fell for Harry Behn's poem, Trees and took Mr. Behn as my mentor this week.

Dear Harry,

I love that trees are kindest things for you
Your poem makes me want to share something too.

Snow days are most joyful days I know
Waking in a shhhhh-ed world of winter cold.

Happy kitchen sounds that brother makes,
pouring, mixing, flipping his best pancakes.

Hunting for mittens, scarf and boots
Dressed in a zipped-up down-filled snow suit.
click on photo for LOC citation 

Snow day brings bundled friends up the hill
racing sleds back down again - shrieking shrill.

When we are tired and worn down
Snow day’s blanket covers the ground.

My friends and I collapse to rest
Waving angels – our snow day best.

When snow day sun sinks toward snow night
My house throws out inviting light.

I go indoors to peel off all my layers
sipping hot cocoa an answered prayer.

I read a book by the radiator
Filling up on stories now and for later.

Finally, snow day’s moon rises ... glows
Finds me fast asleep on my pillow.

February 2019

Thanks so much for stopping by. I am on a college preview tour with my high school senior. I may not respond to Poetry Friday comments and posts until later than usual. I'll catch up!

Andō, Hiroshige, Artist. Kanbara. [Between 1833 and 1836, printed later] Photograph. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, .

UPDATE! Today, is a snow day for me. Ha ha ha ha ha. I can have fun with some Poetry Friday before taking off for the weekend.