Robyn Hood Black - children's author, poet, artist

 

Greetings, Poetry Lovers!  It's the last week of August - does that mean the dog days of summer are coming to an end for another year? 

 

Our two-year-old Keeshond, Rookie, recently discovered that the coolest place in the house is inside the bathtub in the hall bathroom. Yep, that's where you'll find him....

 

The current issue of Frogpond (Haiku Society of America) contains a poem of mine written last winter.  But maybe if it's still hot where you are, it will transport you to a moment of cool!

 

snow day

my phone fills

with pictures

 

©Robyn Hood Black

 

Frogpond Volume 48:2

Spring/Summer 2025

 

PS - Anybody else old enough to remember KING BIDGOOD'S IN THE BATHTUB ["and he WON'T get out!"] by Audry and Don Wood?  It won the Caldecott in 1986; we discovered it with our wee ones in the 1990s.

 

Thanks for coming by, and please go enjoy all the Poetry Friday goodness hosted today by the shockingly clever Karen Edmisten. :0)

 

Hellooooo!  I miss you all.  Last week I was traveling back from a family Stay-Cay Vay-Cay in Georgia, and this week I'm traveling back to Georgia for an art/crafting workshop with mixed media artist & author Seth Apter, from whom I've taken online workshops for many years.  :0)  Sending all the best wishes as summer winds up, and I'll "see" you here next week - whew! This week, please visit our generous, creative, and lovely Carol V. at Beyond Literacy Link for the Roundup.  

 

Greetings, Poetry Lovers!  Popping in this week (how is August already on our doorstep?!) and will pop in and out again in August with family gatherings and traveling to an art workshop. Extra positive thoughts and vibes and prayers for those of you about to start a new school year - as teachers, media folks, parents or students! 

 

We've been baking in the Southeast, as I know other regions have, in recent weeks.  However, the highs this weekend will plunge from the 90s to the 70s for a couple of days - we'll take it!  We've had pop-up storms for days after a dry spell.  Last weekend, after visiting with my folks in Florida, hubby Jeff and I (and our fluff-pup Rookie) stopped at the SC coast on our way back for a couple of days for Jeff's birthday weekend. Lovely days - but when we came up from the beach at lunch time on Saturday, the temp was already 97 with a 110-degree heat index.  Too hot even for this Florida gal. 

 

Our yard plants were parched when we returned, but we brought those thunderstorms with us, so they're happier now.  Jeff and the wee grand-laddie had planted sunflowers and zinnias from seed a few weeks ago, and the pollinators are enjoying them. 

 

As summer winds down, I've got a new artsy endeavor making handmade greeting cards - more on that very soon! - and used that as an excuse to add to my store of antique periodicals, as ephemera and vintage rubber stamps are primary ingredients.  Today I unwrapped a bound volume of several issues of HARPER'S MAGAZINE from 1887.  In these pages I found a poem by Amélie Rives (1863-1945).  Some of you in the Virginia area might be familiar with her; I was not.  Wikipedia tells me she traveled in famous, wealthy circles by the names mentioned, and that she was a goddaughter of Robert E. Lee?  Her first marriage was to descendent of the Astors and her second marriage was to a Russian prince.  Her most famous work was the novel, The Quick or the Dead?

 

But back to summer weather....

 

BEFORE THE RAIN

 

by Amélie Rives 

 

The blackcaps pipe among the reeds,

  And there'll be rain to follow;

There is a murmur as of wind

  In every coign and hollow;

The wrens do chatter of their fears.

While swinging on the barley-ears.

 

Come, hurry, while there yet is time,

  Pull up thy scarlet bonnet.

Now, sweetheart, as my love is thine,

  There is a drop upon it. 

So trip it ere the storm-hag weird

Doth pluck the barley by the beard!

 

Lo!  Not a whit too soon we're housed;

  The storm-witch yells above us;

The branches rapping on the panes

  Seem not in truth to love us.

And look where through the clover bush

The nimble-footed rain doth rush!

 

 

As I type this Thursday eve., I see on the news that rain has been anything but nimble-footed in the parts of the northeast and on the coast.  Prayers for those affected by flooding, and wishing you and yours safe passage through these stormy days.

 

Speaking of rain, please grab your umbrellas and go see our wonderful Jane at Rain City Librarian for this week's Roundup!  Thanks for hosting, Jane, and I'll see you all in a couple-ish weeks!

 

Greetings, Poetry Lovers!  Mid-July, just about... how did that happen? 

 

Summer adventures with a grandbaby and grand-toddler have literally taken me out of the news cycles for some welcome child-centered outdoor escapes.  With the visiting wee ones this week, we set up a little portable pool in the back yard.  (A perfect next activity after trucks in the sandbox, by the way.) I'd ordered the pool with the baby grands in mind, and also, for our Keeshond, Rookie, who just turned two.  He loves the water and will immediately stick his whole snout below the surface and blow bubbles - as well as dig and splash.  Hence, the small water bowl in our kitchen which I refill a zillion times a day, but I digress. 

 

Our oldest grand-dog, Maggie, is a lab - so water-love is in her genes.  She and her just-turned-three-year-old boy have already been splashing in a little plastic pool in their back yard this summer. 

 

Dogs and summer just go together. Here is a poem I found in one of my antique magazines, by a P. C. Fossett.  I didn't discover anything about that name online.  But this poet knew kids and dogs!

 

From the August 13, 1892 edition of GOLDEN DAYS....

 

 

My Chum, Jack

 

by P. C. Fossett

 

I have a chum that sticks by me,

   In fair or cloudy weather,

And when from books and tasks I'm free

   We're always seen together.

When my playmates give me the shake

   I don't sit down and grumble;

I call for Jack, and we two make

   A game at rough-and-tumble.

 

Jack is not now, and never was,

   For beauty celebrated.

But "Handsome is as handsome does,"

   My copy-book once stated;

And though some folks may criticise

   My chum in form and feature,

One look into his honest eyes

   Proclaims a faithful creature.

 

No slave could my commands attend,

   Were I a sovereign royal,

As does this staunch and honest friend --

   This subject true and loyal;

And when we're rambling wood and field

   I fear no hostile stranger,

For Jack would die before he'd yield,

   Defending me from danger.

 

In pond and stream we swim and wade,

   Until my anxious mother

Frowns and declares that she's afraid

  Some day we'll drown each other. 

And when my trowsers' legs are wet,

   And Jack's coat saturated,

My father says, when home we get,

   "Two vagabonds well mated!"

 

Now, do you want to see my chum?

   Just wait a half a second;

I'll whistle for him, and he'll come

   Almost before you've reckoned --

See! here he is with wagging tail

   And bark of salutation.

Of all the chums that never fail

   A dog beats all creation!

 

Hard to argue with that. 

 

One of my poetry-art-beautiful-life chums who never fails is our amazingly talented Tabatha, hosting the Roundup this week at The Opposite of Indifference.  Thanks, Tabatha!

(Note - I'll be in and out of town this month - and next - so it might be a couple-few weeks between my splashes in the Poetry Friday pool.  I hope you are having a lovely summer!) 

HAPPY FOURTH of JULY! Still dipping in and out of town and such this summer, but please go see Mary Lee at A(nother) Year of Reading for this week's Roundup and for links to all the hosts from July through December. Cheers! Robyn

Quick Wave, and Happy Solstice! I'm in and out and taking a wee blog break for this week and next week, but be sure to catch the June 20 roundup with Carol at The Apples in my Orchard, and the June 27 roundup with Tanita at fiction, instead of lies.  Thanks, Ladies - and see you all in a coupla!  I hope to pop into a few posts in the meantime. :0)

 

 

Greetings, Poetry Lovers!

 

In the midst of all the turmoil this week, I'd like to pause and wish a Happy Pride Month to all who celebrate.  

 

Here's the middle part of a very old poem praising rainbows, by Romantic poet Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1793-1835).  It's not about Pride Month, of course, but perhaps it will bring a smile.

 

Excerpt from "The Rainbow" 

 

But mark! what arch of varied hue
From heaven to earth is bowed?
Haste, ere it vanish, haste to view
The Rainbow in the cloud.

 

How bright its glory! there behold
The emerald's verdant rays,
The topaz blends its hue of gold
With the deep ruby's blaze.

 

Yet not alone to charm thy sight
Was given the vision fair;?
Gaze on that arch of colored light,
And read God's mercy there.

 

I found a reference to the poem here, with a link to the full poem here. 

 

For a lovely poem celebrating May 17, 2004, the date Massachusetts first issued marriage certificates to same-sex couples, please find Lesléa Newman's triolet, "To Have and To Hold." It begins with these lines:

 

On May 17th, two by two, side by side,

Surrounded by love, we were bursting with pride.

 

You can read Lesléa Newman's blog post describing that jubilant day here.

 

This poem was also included in the National Geographic volume for young readers, The Poetry of Us, edited by J. Patrick Lewis and published in 2018. 

 

This week the Southern Baptist Convention, the country's largest Protestant denomination and the one I grew up in, passed a resolution calling for the reversal of the U.S. Supreme Court's 10-year-old nationwide legalization of same-sex marriage.   (Click here for the PBS story, while we can still consult PBS.)

 

Why LGBTQ love is so threatening to some straight folks, I will never understand. 

 

While we're on the subject, and since we're literature lovers,  let me give a shout-out to a long-time young friend of mine, Garrett R. Chase, founder and executive director of the Queer Liberation Network.  Based in Texas, QLN's mission is "Empowering queer and trans individuals to thrive by providing inclusive support, resources, and advocacy." Garrett has put together a wonderful fundraiser which kicks off later in July, a literary auction!  He's a voracious reader and talented writer himself, and he loves making connections.  There are some awesome signed books, critique opportunities, and other treasures to bid on here. Check it out! 

 

And be sure to check out the Poetry Friday Roundup at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town hosted by our lovely Ruth this week.  She's on a stateside visit from Uganda, and she's sharing fireflies with us. Thanks, Ruth!

 

Greetings, Poetry Lovers! 

 

Just a wee birdie update here this week. Two weeks ago, I shared a photo of the house finch nest in the hanging fern on our front porch.  All FIVE babies hatched, and they're all still here.  I had feared we had a single mom doing all the work, but when Morgan and her human baby chicks were here last weekend, she spotted the male.  No deadbeat dad after all!

 

Audubon tells me they will fledge between 12-15 days, which should be any time now.  They barely fit in the nest!!

 

Here are a few lines from Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) about bird nests, and social "climbing," perhaps?

 

 

For every bird a nest (79)

By Emily Dickinson

 

For every bird a nest,

 

Wherefore in timid quest

 

Some little wren goes seeking round.

 

Wherefore where boughs are free,

 

Households in every tree,

 

Pilgrim be found ?

 

Perhaps a home too high —

 

Ah, aristocracy ! —

 

The little wren desires.

 

The lark is not ashamed

 

To build upon the ground

 

Her modest house.

 

Yet who of all the throng

 

Dancing around the sun

 

Does so rejoice?

 

 

Wing your way over to see Karen for this week's Roundup! Thanks, Karen.  :0) & Congrats on the recent family wedding!  

Next week we'll be on the road to celebrate our first baby grand's THIRD birthday.  How did that happen so fast?  Will catch up when we return.  Happy SOON-to-be-JUNE!

Happy Holiday Weekend!  I've been dancing with deadlines this week and will have a happy houseful these next few days, so I'm just waving.  Feeling deep gratitude this Memorial Day for all who have served and those who died for the values which our imperfect nation has embodied for 250 years, and which I hope will hold.  Thanks to all military families.  The Roundup this week is being hosted by the multi-talented Michelle, who welcomes us with red-winged blackbirds. 

 

Greetings, Poetry Lovers!  Greetings from "Travelers Nest," to be precise.  We live in Travelers Rest, but when we bought this house a few years ago, I had a little sign made for the front porch that says, "Travelers Nest."

 

I'm always excited when birds nest near us.  (Though I've had to stop putting a spring wreath on the front door; we need to use the door!) 

 

This year we replaced an old bird house with a new nesting box for bluebirds.  Two, actually.  I've seen activity at both (one out front and one in the back), but know the back one was definitely used, with a mom and dad going in and out over recent weeks.  It's quiet now; curiosity got me today, so I lifted the little side door which has a hard plastic "wall" to peek through.  Definitely a lot of nesting material going on (I'd seen pine straw through cracks in the bottom), but also remnants of, well, birds living there - so much that I couldn't see through.  So I slid my cell phone through the opening at the top and took some pictures.  Honestly, I can't make heads or tails of the messy situation in there, but I hope it led to baby birds which fledged while we were gone (maybe during the wedding week or such).  I'll have to clean it out for the next time!

 

At the front of the house, I did see cardinals going in and out of the Chinese Fringe bushes we have at the front porch, maybe a month or so ago.  I haven't been able to tell if they've really used the nest they built, as it's hard to see without making a ruckus, and I haven't wanted to encourage the dog to bark at them through the railing! 

 

But one nest has for sure resulted in eggs.  No sooner had I brought home a couple of hanging ferns for the front porch than I started seeing a small brown blur when I'd go out there. So small and so fast; I haven't been able to 100 percent identify it. It's not a Carolina wren; we used to host a pair every year back in Georgia. I was thinking sparrow (there are several kinds, of course!) but now I'm pretty convinced this little mama is a house finch. Yesterday after she'd flown off for a minute, I grabbed my phone and held it above the hanging basket, and I discovered the picture above - four eggs with one very brand new hatchling! 

 

So now I'm keeping the dog mostly away fom the porch and trying to give Little Bird Mama a wide berth if I have to open the door. I can see the silhouette of her wee brown head looking at me when I do! She's literally too fast for me to properly i.d. when she takes off. 

 

As the amazing David Sibley says:

 

Birders often struggle to distinguish the streaky brown birds, lumping them together with nicknames like "LBJs" (for "Little Brown Jobs"). Click here for more from BirdwatchingDaily.com. 

 

I haven't seen Dad; that would help. But the eggs look like house finch eggs. 

 

**FRIDAY MoRNiNG NEST UPDATE!** - ALL the eggs have hatched!  I snapped a quick (blind) pic on my phone when Mama briefly flew off this morning, and the nest is full of very fluffy babies!  I think there are four. :0)

 

Any bird nests in your realm?

 

Here's a little tribute to all of our feathered families, as a metaphor for our human ones, from British poet William Barnes (1801-1866):

 

 

HOME'S A NEST

 

O Home is a nest of the spring,

Where children may grow to take wing.

 

A nest where the young folk are bred

Up, to take on the work of the dead.

 

Where babes may grow women and men,

For the rearing of children again.

 

Where our children grow up to take on

Our own places, when we are all gone.

 

All forsaken, when children have flown,

Like a nest in the bush-top alone.

 

Where our children are bred to fulfil,

Not our own, but our Father's good will.

 

O, Home is a Nest!

 

 

The Home Book of Poetry, compiled by Dana Estes, Estes & Lauriat, Boston, 1882.

 

We have so many wonderful books of bird poetry, several by talented members in our Poetry Friday community!  And, if haiku is for you, here's a little shout-out for the 2023 collection from bottle rockets press, Bird Whistle: A contemporary Anthology of Bird Haiku, Senryu & Short Poems, edited by Stanford M. Forrester/sekiro & Johnette Downing. I have a couple-few poems in there.  Here's the link! 

 

Thanks for coming by, and be sure to wing your way over to see Ramona at Pleasures from the Page for the Poetry Friday Roundup!