PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
BANK STREET COLLEGE OF EDUCATION
NEW YORK TIMES
Monday, January 21, 2013
Friday, January 11, 2013
POETRY FRIDAY: Thinking about Home
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about “home”—a place
where one lives and shares years of memorable experiences with family and friends. At my new home, I’ll have a lot more
outdoor space—more than three acres. I’ll have beautiful
gardens and a pool. Still, I know I’ll be sad about leaving my home of nearly
thirty-seven years. I’ll definitely miss living close to the water…and in the
place where my daughter grew up. I’ll be sorry to leave decades of happy memories
behind. Yet, I’m also looking forward to moving on and living next door to my granddaughter Julia,
my daughter, and my son-in-law...and to "making" new memories there.
The renovations on our new place are nearly
complete. The custom-made bookshelves and china cabinet have been installed—so have
the hardwood floors, the tiled floors in the bathrooms and entry way, the
quartz countertops, the glass and slate backsplash, the new kitchen sink and
faucet. Everything looks great. Now, we just need to buy a new refrigerator and do a
little painting. We also have the awful
task of cleaning out our “old” house.
We loved the built-in china cabinet so much that we
may have a media/book/storage center built too. Since we’ll be downsizing from
a seven-room house to a four-room in-law apartment, I want to make sure that we’ll
have a place to put every little thing we need. I hate clutter!
China Cabinet
It may take me forever to transport my children’s
books to my new abode! I have already started filling the shelves. The other
day, I sat on the floor with Julia as she pulled books from the bottom shelves
and began looking through them. Two of the words she says most often now are “book”
and “read.” That warms her Grammy’s heart.
Here are two pictures of Julia "reading" books this week:
(a book written in verse)
Written
by Stella Blackstone & illustrated by Clare Beaton
(a collection of animal poems)
Written
by David Elliott & illustrated by Holly Meade
Here is a memoir poem that I wrote many years ago about the home of my maternal grandparents--a place where I had many of the happiest experiences of my childhood.
A HOME FOR THE SEASONS
My grandparents’ house seems to hug their shady
street.
A white duplex, its twin front doors
stand side by side
just three steps up from the sidewalk.
We always enter the house through the side door.
Stepping into the kitchen,
we find Babci sitting at the far end of the table
spooning filling onto circles of homemade dough
and making pierogis, crocheting afghans,
or snipping lacy designs from paper—
a traditional folk art she learned in Poland.
Sometimes we see her painting flowers on the
cupboard doors
or hanging starched curtains she embroidered by
hand.
The aroma of stuffed cabbage or babka baking in the
oven
often greets us at the door.
Most days, Dzidzi spends outdoors tending to his
garden
or painting the shutters green
or mending the picket fence
or building a backyard fireplace for summertime
barbecues.
My grandparents always busy themselves
making their place a special place
for the family to gather throughout the year,
making it a home for all the seasons.
One
of my all time favorite books in verse, Castles,Caves, and Honeycombs, is about the different kinds of homes where animals live. It was written by Linda Ashman and illustrated by Lauren Stringer. The book's text is spare, its vocabulary is rich, the rhythm is flawless, and the illustrations are gorgeous. It makes a wonderful baby gift!
Here
is how the book begins:
Many places make a home --
A heap of twigs.
A honeycomb.
A castle with a tower or two.
An aerie with a bird's eye view.
A heap of twigs.
A honeycomb.
A castle with a tower or two.
An aerie with a bird's eye view.
A silky web.
A sandy dune.
A room inside a warm cocoon.
***************
Renee has the Poetry Friday Roundup at No Water
River.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Dinosaur Egg: A Forgotten Poem
I was recently contacted via email by a freelance
permissions consultant who was writing on behalf of the international section
of the Educational Division of Oxford University Press. The consultant requested
my permission to use two short poems that I had written and posted on
Laura Salas’s blog. The publisher wants to include the poems in a 352 page,
paperback textbook for students aged 14-16. Here’s the funny thing: I had
forgotten that I had written the poems back in 2008 for one of Laura’s “15
Words or Less Poems” challenges.
Have any of you ever done that--forgotten poems that you had
written? I hate to admit that I’ve done it more than once.
For Poetry Friday this week, I have
another of my “forgotten” poems. I found it this morning when I was reading through
one of the drafts of my unpublished poetry collection titled Docile Fossil. It’s
a mask poem.
Dinosaur Egg
My shell turned to stone…
My heart and my bone.
I never saw sky,
Felt rain on my face.
I never knew snow.
I never hatched…
So…
How could I grow?
I was trapped in this place—
My rocky hard case
Eons ago.
I never knew light…
Only darkness and night.
I never was born.
My life was all done
Before it had begun.
********************
Matt has the Poetry Friday Roundup at Radio, Rhythm &
Rhyme.
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