Life on the Deckle Edge
Greetings, Poetry Lovers! Attempting to post from my phone at the airport (super quick trip to see my folks), so, short and sweet.
HAPPY LUNAR NEW YEAR!
Here are my postcards I sent for Jone's fabulous New Year Poem Postcard Swap.
year of the snake
beware the comfort
of old skin
Robyn Hood Black
I don't even know who is hosting this week, but I'm sure it will be fabulous. I so appreciate this community.
More soon - boarding is about to start!
xoxo Robyn
Howdy... I'd planned to share more New Year Poem Postcards - and I will later - but it's taken me all day long (Thursday) to finish mine! On my way to mail shortly. ;o)
House-full coming tomorrow for the weekend (family birthdays!). I'll share my own postcard poem & art next week and more wonderful gifted ones after that.
Ever-talented Tabatha has the Roundup this week at The Opposite of Indifference. Thanks, Tabatha!
Greetings, Poetry Lovers! One thing I always enjoy about the start of a new year is Jone Rush MacCulloch's New Year Poem Postcard Swap! I'm always inspired by the words and images which grace my mailbox, and I (mostly!) love coming up with something myself to send. Especially because Jone expands the New Year to include the Chinese New Year, with an invitation to incorporate whatever animal is representing that year. (This year, it'll be the wood snake, and we have until Jan. 29 to send our poems! That might also just be Jone's birthday, a little snake told me, a day before my own.) SO, my poem is written, and that's as far as I've gotten. I plan to get my cards made and out by next week.
Other members of our community are far more on the ball. I've already received a couple of wonderful cards (and a third late today, which I haven't had a chance to look at yet.) I'm delighted to share these gems from Linda Mitchell and Tracey Kiff-Judson. I'm constantly amazed by Linda's mixed media creations (as well as her poems - this one begs to be read aloud), and Tracey's bold art is lively and smile-inducing! Plus, her poem is especially delicious. Enjoy!
Year of the Wood Snake
2025
Wood snake shifting
this year's first breath.
Shimmering mist,
a welcome guest.
Bring no worry
Wood snake shifting.
No more woe, or
unrhymed poems.
Come now springtime!
Come green new shoots!
Wood snake shifting
'tween forest roots.
Bring gentle words
fresh ideas too
a good year of
wood snake shifting.
©Linda Mitchell
A New Year
Stacked with possibility,
limoncello, pumpkin, cherry
flavor awaits
Which will you choose
Lip-puckering sunshine?
The comfort of warm spice?
A bit of hibiscus passion?
Perhaps a nibble of each...
©Tracey Kiff-Judson
Mmmm.... definitely a nibble of each. And, yes, come green new shoots! (January has been frigid, with more arctic blasts on tap for next week.)
Thank you, Linda and Tracey, for these treasures. Now shift yourself over to see Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect, where you'll find the Roundup. Thanks, Tricia, for hosting!
Greetings, Poetry Lovers - I've missed you! Happy 2025!! We were away for two and a half weeks, from before Christmas til after New Year's, happily on grandparent duty. Our wee laddie grandboy Sawyer (2 1/2) now has a beautiful baby sister, Ellie Grace. Everyone is doing great.
Though I usually enjoy participating in the holiday poem swap organized by our wonderful Tabatha, this year (with the baby due date in December and the usual Etsy orders flurry right before Christmas), I told Tabatha I'd have to take a pass. I didn't realize she'd keep my name in the bin for someone who might want to send something to those who couldn't reciprocate.
Before we left on our trip, I got a wonderful surprise package from Maine - from Donna JT Smith. Not only was there a lovely card, but she had sent the fun painting and poem above and a lovely gold necklace featuring three charms: a heart, a butterfly, and a little tag with a cut-out star reading "MIRACLE." I wore that necklace every day for a week, I guess - before Ellie Grace was born and for several days after. (You can see it in the photo above.) I emailed Donna with thanks for her kindness, and told her the gift was so meaningful as both of these babies are miracle IVF babies!
This is my first Poetry Friday back home, and the "Snow Fellows" poem Donna sent is perfect for it. As I tap out these words on Thursday, we're under a winter storm warning starting first thing Friday morning. (So if I don't respond to comments, our power might be out!) We're expecting some heavy snow and then ice and other frozen mixes later. Schools and such are closed. I'm anxious to see what our cold-weather-loving, 42-pounds-of-fluff Rookie thinks of the snow.
Snow Fellows
Snowy fellows in the yard, stand so staid and fast
till down the slope the sunlight slips, and it is dark at last.
Then is when the party starts, when dark and cold are most.
No campfire's lit, no hot dogs, no marshmallows to roast.
But,
there are some luscious slushies, snowy cones and icy treats,
just the sort of healthy foods a snowman needs to eat!
There are games galore for fun in snow, like sledding, skating,
skiing;
and if they want another friend, they roll a new snowbeing!
The party ends just when the sky starts lifting up the sun.
Returning to their old rolled spots, their twinkling eyes are done.
You may not ever see them dance, nor ever hear them sing,
but look someday, 'round where they've stood -
Hmmm - footprints in a ring!
©Donna JT Smith
I love "snowbeing" - ha!
While we are anticpating snow, I want to send light and love and prayers to everyone living through the horrific wildfire situation in Los Angeles. My bother-in-law and his family are all in the area. They are okay and the kids evacuated the city, but it's hard to try to comprehend so much loss and on such a scale.
It's "reigning" cats and dogs at Kat's Whiskers, where Kat kindly has the Roundup!
GREETINGS in 2025! Just popping in at the end of our new-grandbaby tour of duty - blissful deployment - to wish you a peaceful and inspiring start to the year. All while knowing peace is not enjoyed by everyone, and we begin 2025 in need of both contemplation and work, as always.
Technology has been prickly during my trip, with my laptop uncooperative. So I'll have a real post next week. But please go visit Mary Lee at A(nother) Year of Reading for the Roundup! (My phone is not cooperating to copy the link either!) Off to a technology-free baby and her toddler brother... see you soon! xo
Greetings, Poetry Lovers! I hope you had a lovely Thanksgiving holilday, and here we are barreling toward Christmas! Our celebrations will be especially exciting this year as we anticipate the birth of our second grandbaby, a girl this time. :0) Due date is in a couple of weeks, but she could come any time. After working on Etsy orders til 4 a.m., I went ahead and put my shop on vacation mode for the holidays, to be on call as needed.
Speaking of holidays, I came across this old poem and it struck a funny chord with me. Maybe a little too much of a self-reflective chord? It's long, but perhaps it will be a good diversion for you, too. It's by Virginia Woodward Cloud, a writer I wasn't familiar with. She was quite active in Baltimore at the turn of the last century, so perhaps some of you know her work?
The 'holiday' referenced here isn't quite our winter holidays, I suspect, but it seemed appropriate for this time of year anyway. Looks like the illustrator's last name is Birch? I think this would make a great standard cumulative-tale picture book as well; the author kindly left the image details to the artist. I found it in Volume II of The Home University Bookshelf, The University Society, Inc., New York, 1948.
Wishing you a holiday journey with some real rest and relaxation, and a sense of humor too.
The Happy Holiday of Master Merrivein
Virginia Woodward Cloud
"I'll be up to Durley Fair," quoth Master Merrivein;
"A day of rest and jollity, then hie me home again.
With shillings in my pocket, and the harvest-work all done,
I'll spend a happy holiday, then back by set o' sun!"
So blithesome Master Merrivein, all in his Sunday best,
Started straightway for Durly Fair with energy and zest;
His stick upon his shoulder, most joyfully he sped,
But suddenly a voice from a neighbor's gateway said:
"OH, Master, Master Merrivein!
As you go to the fair,
Will you take my tumbler-pigeons to the pigeon-fakir there?"
So, kindly Master Merrivein, he slung them on his back,
The pigeons and the pigeon-cage. (They made a goodly pack!)
"HOLD! Hold there, Master Merrivein! As you go through the town, Will you leave this little donkey with brother Billy Brown?
The donkey is so gentle, and so tractable, 't is said, That, if you don not beat him, he'll just trot on ahead!"
So, kindly Mr. Merrivein, he added to his store,
By letting one small donkey just trot right on before.
"Ho there, you Master Merrivein!
Go you by Durley Fair?
Then please just take these candlesticks to cousin Betty Blair!
This bonnet, in the bonnet-box, I'll add, if you don't mind,
And these few little trifles I will just tie on behind!
"They're for my sister at the Inn, good sir; and mother begs
To add this green umbrella and a basketful of eggs!"
So, kindly Master Merrivein, he took them on his arm
For fear the bonnet and the eggs might straightway come to harm.
"OH, Master, Master Merrivein! Just step around this way!
If only you will drive a cow along with you to-day!
She's the gentlest, kindest animal that ever yet was seen,
And I've sold her to young Mistress Finch, who llives on Durley Green!"
So, kindly Master Merrivein, he hummed a little song,
And the cow she switched her tail about and straightway went along.
"OH, wait – wait, Master Merrivein! Please stop a moment where
The crossroads meet the schoolhouse, well-nigh to Durley Fair,
And give this keg of butter and bag of tarts so nice,
And this shawl and woolen comforter, to good old Granny Gryce!"
So, kindly Master Merrivein, with effort and with care,
Got all these things slung on him – no matter how or where.
"Is that good Master Merrivein? Three squawking geese have I;
I'll hang them on your shoulder, and their feet I'll tightly tie.
Just leave them with Dame Blodgett, anear the crooked stile,
The other side of Durley Green, about a half a mile!"
"OH, stop – stop, Master Merrivein! Go you to Hurley Fair?
Then I beg you take this finery for my daughter Meg to wear,
This flowered hat and tippet, the mitts and paduasoy.
She's at Aunt Elsie's cottage, and will welcome you with joy!"
"WAIT there, good Master Merrivein! If to the fair you go,
Please take my fiddle and my flute to Uncle Jerrygo!
The tuning-fork and music rack, accordian and horn,
Are for his son, who leads the band at Durley Fair each morn!"
So straightway, Master Merrivein, so good and true and kind,
Started him off to Durley Fair a day of rest to find.
But did he find it? Oh, dear me! Go ascertain, I pray,
Of all the curious country-folk who passed him on the way!
FOR the gentle little donkey – that the sight you may not miss,
I'll say it took an attitude occasionally like this –
While the pigeons and the squawking geese, I really am afraind,
That one small picture could ot hold the havoc that they made!
THE cow (that gentle animal!) – to-morrow, at the fair,
Young Mistress Finch may try to sell; I warn you, then beware!
For Master Merrivein found out, to his own great surprise,
That she had an unexpected way of taking exercise.
And all the other articles? Alack-a-day! I ween,
Some things, to be appreciated, really must be seen;
But if you'd fully understand the how, and when, and where,
Go take a day (like Merrivein's) to rest at Durley Fair!
Please visit the generous Carol at The Apples in my Orchard for this week's Roundup, and for her personal post about other seasons in the lives of our families. Thank you, Carol.
Greeetings, Poetry Lovers! I've missed you as I've been popping in and out of town and in and out of here recently. This week, I'm on board to celebrate Clara's Kooky Compendium of Thimblethoughts and Wonderfuzz, the latest (and most amazing) collaborative poetic genius-work from Pomelo Books, a.k.a. Sylvia Vardell and Janet Wong.
I thought I'd have a fulsome review to share earlier this fall, but... Helene. I'm thrilled to see all the good press this one-of-a-kind anthology has been receiving since it splashed into the kid-literary pond last month, both among our PF family and in the wider world! In fact, last Friday over at Jama's Alphabet Soup - the crème de la crème of blogs in my book (and lots of others), Clara and her quirky crew were the main course. So for a really good review and explanations and insights and sneak peeks, please go fill your bowl here. (But then come back and keep reading! And look up other wonderful reviews, too.)
It was fun to work on poems for this project, and then wait with bated breath to see what in the world Janet and Sylvia were cooking up. We knew it was something that took a lot of editorial and creative wrangling, and something that would be unlike any other collection.
When I started reading my own copy, my first thought was, "Wow - I wish I had had a book like this when I was growing up!" This fun and somewhat indescribable treasure offers space for curiosity and creativity to run wild. I'm glad I'll be able to share it with grandchildren when they're a wee bit older.
The line illustrations by Frank Ramspott bring to life all the imaginings and characters and poetry within, but don't overpower all the layers of text. And I do love all the layers. I might read and write haiku because I NEED the spareness it requires/provides, but that is probably because I'm actually the opposite of a minimalist. I wonder if Clara is a minimalist or a... maximalist?? Nope, that's not the right word. I'll have to wonder and think on that a bit.
Thare are more than 150 poems between the covers of this book, and I'm delighted to share the two I've got in there.
The first was in response to Janet and Sylvia's question, "Can you write a poem about siblings?"
SIBLINGS
Take the "r" out of brother, and what do you get?
BOTHER! That's what. He makes me upset.
Take the "i" out of sis, and what does it make?
"Ss" – like a hiss - the sound of a snake!
Please take them both, take them out of my sight.
Then I know everything will be all _ _ ght.
I said, everything will be all _ _ ght.
Hmmm.
Okay, please put back the "r," and return the "i," too –
I have to admit, I would miss those two.
©Robyn Hood Black
I dearly love my brother, Mike, though growing up, we probably both sometimes felt the way the narrator of this poem feels! I got TWO bonus sisters when my mother remarried right before I went off to college - Carla and Sharon. Love them too!
My other poem was a response to writing about syllables. I do love me some syllables. And a challenge.
ONE-ON-ONE
"I am Worm,"
said Worm.
"I have no feet.
"I am long and smooth.
"My name has one sound."
"Caterpillar!"
announced Caterpillar.
"Appendages galore.
"Spectacular segments, moving together.
"Melodious appellation!"
"Branches beckon," declared Caterpillar.
"Jubilant journeys!"
"I am off to the dirt," said Worm.
"Have a nice day."
©Robyn Hood Black
Thanks for reading. Oh, and speaking of words and wordplay, they require letters. I've been having some fun in the studio with letters. (See what I did there?) Just in time for stocking stuffer season, I'm assembling some fun little necklaces using vintage miniature Scrabble tiles. (Here's the link; I've got a rare 20-percent-off holiday sale going on.)
Here's hoping your thoughts and wonders leave you inspired and comforted and rested or energized, whichever you need. I'm sure you'll find poems you need over at There is No Such Thing as a Godforsaken Town, where our wonderful Ruth is rounding us up from Kampala, Uganda, with her usual thought-provoking, community-building offerings. Thank you, Ruth!
Happily busy with artsy/Etsy orders this week, so I didn't get a post up. Planning to share some KOOKY Pomelo love next week! Please visit our lovely Karen Edmisten for this week's Roundup.
Greetings, Poetry Lovers! I've missed you as I've ducked in and out these couple-few weeks. In the midst of all the stress in the news, we've had happy family events to look forward to - a baby shower for daughter Morgan & family last weekend, and a little celebratory lunch for Son Seth & his love that we're hosting on Saturday, after they get married at the courthouse TODAY/Friday! (They'll have a ceremony and reception in the Spring.)
I was among those who met late Tuesday evening and early Wednesday morning with numbness and a bit of despair. I texted with a few friends, and there were lots of messages with hubby Jeff's sibling group. What struck me was that it seemed to be the impulse of several folks to respond to this state of overwhelm with... poetry. Tuesday night as results started rolling in, my sister-in-law Patti shared "Holding Vigil" by Alison Luterman, written in response to the experience, I believe. Among the poems ending up in text messages the next morning were "The Peace of Wild Things" by Wendell Berry, a favorite among our PF folks. Jeff shared a post on social media by Chelan Harkin that started with, "It's when the earth shakes...." Other folks sent spiritual passages that read as a mix of poetry and prose.
I wanted to post something on Facebook, but nothing I could come up with myself seemed right, or appropriate. Then I ran across Janet Wong's post, where she shared her wonderful poem, "Looking for Birds," and it resonated with the feelings and tone I wanted to share. So I shared the post and asked if I could share the poem again here today. It's from the wonderful Pomelo Books collection, HOP TO IT. Janet and Syliva Vardell are the power team behind that publishing venture, and several of us are lucky to have poems in those anthologies. I love how a poem, originally conjured up with a certain topic or sensibility in mind, can also meet another experience not dreamed of when it was originally penned.
Look for Birds
It could be worse.
It is worse
somewhere
for someone.
Today will blend into tomorrow.
Tomorrow will become next week.
Everything happening now
will become just one page
in a history book
in a hundred years.
Let's look out the window.
Come, let's look for birds.
©Janet Wong
I suppose one reason I took this poem to heart on this occasion was that Wednesday morning, I took my dog Rookie on his usual walk. I realized that for him, nothing had changed. He was immersed in whatever smells, sounds, sights and tracks caught his attention in the moment. It was okay for me to just be on a walk for a few minutes, noticing the natural world. (And Rookie's used to my stopping now and then to try to see some woodpecker I've just heard, or to try to suss out what bird made some unusual call.)
In a few lines, Janet's poem helped me take a breath and a brief big-picture break. But more importantly, it helped me remember that implications from this election might have a much more dire impact on people more vulnerable than myself, particularly those who weren't born here, those whose gender identities bother or frighten some people, and my daughter, daughter-in-law, and soon-to-be-born granddaughter, and all women in those generations. All younger folks, of course, when one thinks of the climate crisis. And then we must think about the rest of the world - those in Ukraine, Gaza, Taiwan ... and all countries, really.
Back to the poem. Take comfort from the woods and from birdsong, we must. Simply noticing can make us grateful and more calm. But we can't stay on our wooded paths, or behind a window, indefinitely. Others need us to look out for them, too.
At Merely Day by Day, you'll find a powerful original poem by Cathy on this topic, and you'll find the whole Roundup. Thank you, Cathy, for hosting this week. And many thanks to Janet for letting me share her poem!
Oops - I said I'd be back this week, but I'm trying to get a baby quilt finished before Morgan's shower this weekend. ;0) See you NEXT Friday! This week, our lovely and thoughtful Patricia has the Roundup over at Reverie. Happy November!