MotherReader

I’m generally no poet, but I wanted to try to capture some of the feeling of my beloved cat Chloe, who passed over to the Great Kitty Beyond on Wednesday. The family is very sad to see her go, but relieved to put an end to a long decline into suffering. In a way, she was my kitty more than the others — as cats do choose Their Person. It’s hard without her, but I know that she had a wonderful, happy life with us, as we did with her. So to Chloe:

Heart of a Cat

That day your heart beat so fast.
Pressed against me, a tiny kitten
Squirming against restraint
Yet grateful for the warmth.
Lost, hidden in the darkness,
Emerging to the call of stranger.
As if you knew us even then.

For years you graced us with
A gentle nature, a sweet spirit.
So loving that you would purr
at just the caress of your name.
Opening your heart to a little sister,
who repaid the honor with licks
and cuddles, fur blended together
Eyes in blissful crescent kitty slits.

Sweet, polite even in decline,
Asking for food with the quietest meow
Hovering at the edges of illness
As we went on with chaotic lives.
Only as it was quiet again
Did you fade, stumble.
Even with help, leaving us gently.
Ignoring our tears with love
As your heartbeat slowed to a stop.

My only regret the elusive nature
of memory that can’t capture
the feel of your fur under my hands,
or the vibration in your purr.
But nothing of the sense of you
will be lost to us here,
As your loviness and happiness
Live on in our hearts, forever.

Poetry Friday is hosted at A Wrung Sponge. (Which incidentally, is how I feel.)

I forgot the whole Seuss birthday thing until I saw it all over Facebook this morning. I might have tried to whip up something for the occasion, but remembered that I had. Five years ago. And since that’s a lifetime in blogging years, enjoy a repost of this silly little ode to the Master.

The sun did not shine
It was too wet to play.
So I sat by the computer
All that cold, cold, wet day.

I sat with my blog.
We sat there, just deuce.
And I said, “How I wish
I could rip off Dr. Seuss.”

Then I looked up,
And saw him step in on the mat!
I looked up. I saw him!
The Cat in the Hat!

(Or it could have all been
in my head, not a fact.
I’d taken two Advil
And at least three Prozac.)

The Cat said,“Now why
Do you sit there so gloomy?
Your house looks quite clean
Your playroom quite roomy.”

I said, “It’s my blog,
I need something to write.
I can find no inspiration
At least not by tonight.”

“Inspiration, you want.”
(sounding kind of like Yoda)
“Open your eyes,” he said,
“And get me a soda.”

“All that you’re looking for
Is here on this shelf.
You don’t need any more,
You can get it yourself.”

And then all the titles
Popped right out at me
With a surreal neon glimmer.
(Note: Avoid LSD.)

Oh, Say Can You Say?
The Foot Book, ABC,
Hop on Pop, Mr. Brown,
The Shape of Me.

Horton, and Yertle
The Lorax and Grinch
The King’s Stilts, Mulberry Street
Oh, this was a cinch!

I turned then to thank him,
That Cat in the Hat.
I turned then to thank him
But he’d have none of that.

Then putting a finger
Aside of his nose,
He gave me a wink
And up the chimney he rose!

(Sorry about that —
A little Xmas got in.
Guess I shouldn’t have taken
That third Vicodin.)

Let me say to you all
Dr. Seuss broke the mold,
Giving us the best books
For all of time told.

From America to Zimbabwe
Readers, thinkers, let loose.
Take a moment to say,
Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss.

I don’t usually participate in giveaways, but I couldn’t resist this one for two reasons. First, because it’s an eReader. Second, because when I read the prompt about important features for an electronic book reader, the things that popped into my head were... well, they started off standard and then became less so. I couldn’t stop playing with the notion and thinking that it was starting to feel like poetry. And then I was enjoying the distraction of tinkering with the thoughts and the words until I realized that I was — as the guidelines requested — writing a post about what I want in an eReader. It just happens to be a Poetry Friday post.

IREX eReader

I want my eReader
To be a toy for grown-ups
that makes me giddy with joy.
To be simple right from the start
with specialized features that wow me.
To be compact enough to put in my handbag
and large enough to read the screen with ease.
To hold so many books that I will never finish one
while on a long trip, and be lost without another.
To know which passages are important, lovely,
exquisite, and mark them so I can remember.
To keep track of titles that warm my heart,
or change my mind or expand my view.
To refuse books that are badly written
or that are harmful for my soul.
To tell me what to read next
and organize my thoughts.
I want my eReader.

That was fun. Poetry Friday is hosted today at Becky’s Book Reviews. Oh, and a Kidlitosphere Conference badge is now available for your blog. Wear it proudly.

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Here’s the badge! Feel free to use it on your own sites to help get the word out about KidLitCon09!

This week I was inspired to write a list poem in response to the weekly challenge of Miss Rumphius and based on my own upcoming weekend (well, weekend-ish) getaway to Las Vegas. This was one of the few poems I’ve written that I feel like I truly crafted. I started with a train-of-thought list based on my own packing. Since it felt too long, I culled out the least important parts and side notes. Then I liked the way the lines were forming a shape, so I worked within that structure, taking out or changing words to make it fit. Honestly, I can’t believe how much time I’ve put into this poem. “Um, yeah,” say you practiced poets. But it was a revelation to me that working on a poem can be such fun.

Packing

Start with
A carry-on bag
With a noticeable tag.
Black pants to dress up
The essential black T-shirt.
A jacket adds color or slims in black.
A cotton dress cut just above the knee
Easily goes from daytime to evening with
Comfortable heels and versatile accessories.
(Colorful bangles for day, silver chains for evening.)
Shorts and shirt to sleep in provide emergency clothes.
One interesting shirt that can start a barstool conversation.
Undergarments, socks, belts, extra shirt, and toiletries.
(Liquids in a plastic bag on top, for airport security.)
Two books of different styles, and the guidebook.
Don’t pack pinchy shoes, no matter how cute
No organizers, calendars or work numbers.
Leave behind preconceived notions about
sushi, planes, or talking to strangers.
Wear the really flattering jeans.
Slip on walking shoes.
(Black is best.)
And go.

You’ll find today’s Poetry Friday contributions hosted at ayuddha. Continued Poetry Month extravaganzas are at Check It Out, Gotta Book, Liz in Ink, Miss Rumphius, Pencil Talk, Poetry for Children, Read Write Believe, Susan Writes, Wild Rose Reader, Writing and Ruminating, A Wrung Sponge, and A Year of Reading. Whew!

For the most part, I read blogs through Google Reader. But when I have a some extra time, I’ll go to the blogs from my blogroll. When I do that I can get immersed in the voice of the blogger and catch things that flew by scrolling through the feed. While taking some time at Susan Writes, I saw that she was guest hosting “15 Words or Less Poems.” The photo grabbed me and instantly inspired my poem:

Now a grown-up
I wish
that making new friends
was as easy
as touching noses.

I was so excited to have written something that I didn’t even realize that it was the previous week’s round-up. Afterward, I read the poems that others had written, and was amazed by the many different ways people responded to the picture. Take a look.

Laura Salas offers this poetic opportunity on her blog every week, but I don’t usually participate because no poem comes to mind. But now I’m curious about those who do write to these challenges or any such poetry challenges. Are you instantly inspired? Do you push yourself to find the words? Do you see the photo, mull about as you wash dishes, and then come back with the idea? Can you force inspiration?

Anyway, the Poetry Friday round-up is over at Picture Book of the Day, where she is reviewing my favorite poetry book. I am spending the day trying — oh, trying — to tie up some loose ends before the spring weather hits Virginia this weekend. And may I say, Thank God for that. I loved seeing the eight inches of snow on Monday, but if we didn’t get a break in this cold weather I was going to snap.

I have permission from my seventh grader to use her poem today. She continues to amaze me.

I’ve been struggling this week as a mom, feeling like a failure because my house is beyond messy and my voice is too quick to rise. And then my fourth grader shows me an excellent acting job in her Drama Class performance and gives me extra snuggle time in the morning just because I need it. And then my seventh grader tells me how glad she is that we can really talk about things and writes a poem that makes me shake my head in wonder. I guess I’m doing something right.

The Third Level

Someday,
But nobody can tell you when,
Somewhere,
But nobody can tell you where:
Something
Will change your life.

The choice is a door,
Open one path, close the other.
The opportunity is a bird,
You have to catch it before it flies away.

True,
Life goes on,
As it did,
A life of two levels.
But someday,
And nobody can tell you when,
Somewhere,
And nobody can tell you where:
That third level opens
And we have to choose,
Which life
to let go.

Today’s Poetry Friday round-up is hosted by Wild Rose Reader.

Also, a reminder that Monday is the last day to submit your favorite/best post of the year related to children’s literacy or literature to the December Carnival of Children’s Literature. It will be hosted by the amazing Jen Robinson, and posts can be submitted through the Carnival website form, where you should select “carnival of children’s literature.” (Though I have to admit, I’m tempted to investigate “carnival of the vanities.”)

I didn’t get back to update yesterday’s post with my seventh grader’s entries to Adam Rex’s Kaiju Haiku Contest. I think she did an amazing job, especially considering that she just sat down with a piece of paper and tossed off about seven choices. These were the two she tweaked for the maximum impact.

Scaly, green monster
Sleeps under my bed at night.
What a freeloader.

The monster glowered
With bloodshot, watery eyes.
Allergy season.

I love the wit in these. Another related example of her sense of humor is how she named her fish. Yes, he is a Siamese Fighting Fish named Koobish — after the creature in The True Meaning of Smekday. But the funny thing is that since I warned her how... disposable these fish can be, she’s decided to keep the name Koobish for all of the subsequent fish and use subtitles. So we’ll have:

• Koobish
  
• Koobish II: Judgment Day
  
• Koobish III: Revenge of the Fish
  
• Koobish IV: A New Hope
  
• Koobish V: Koobish Harder

Man, she rocks.

After I got back from the Kidlitosphere Conference at 6:00 a.m. on Monday morning, and after a full week of work, blogging, and activities, I got to go to Girl Scout Camp. Oh joy.

Now I like nature, but mostly as viewed through a screened window — as God intended it.¹ However, I make sure our troop goes camping because I believe that we should all stretch our comfort zones.

The first word I heard about the camp was not promising, but the trip was a wonderful experience. We kept a laid-back approach and gave the girls freedom to explore and fall — literally, in the actual creek water. Here’s our weekend in a series of haiku. (Oh, Anastasia’s got today’s Poetry Friday round-up.)

Mice? In the cabins?
You have to be kidding me.
Should have picked the tents.

Finally let loose.
teens buck sophistication
to play on the rocks.

Into our silence
the creek babbles, birds chatter
the forest leaves speak.

Taking off our shoes
The cold water feels so good
On our tired feet.

Nine middle-school girls
and three leaders in one room.
Sleep proves elusive.

Morning hike reward
a sun-dappled waterfall
Complete enchantment.

I’ve looked through my files, and I don’t have anything that’s right for Poetry Friday, hosted today at Biblio File. However, as I was playing around in my archives looking for the beach books, I stumbled on this poem that I pulled together last year with your help. It was a contest where you readers had to list one summer pleasure in the comments, but then clever me, I turned them into a poem. Actually, two poems — this is the second one.

Summer Day

Getting up early,
Before anyone else is awake,
And weeding the garden as the sun rises.
Enjoying the luxury of a second breakfast
Of just-made blueberry muffins.
Kids on the patio
Knowing there is no reason
to rush off
Unless it is to have
an adventure.
Walking at the edge of the ocean
Collecting interesting
Shells,
Rocks,
Sharks’ teeth
And looking out over
The breathtaking sea.
Wearing flip-flops or
Going barefoot.
Eating crabs on the back porch
Or popsicles under a shady tree.
Buying the sweetest strawberries.
Or picking them from a patch.
Every choice, every option
a pure delight.
Listening to crickets
and the songs of tree frogs
as the night falls.
Staying out past bedtime
Catching fireflies in glass jars
And then
At the very close of the day
Setting them free.

I’m ready for my summer days to begin. Even though I’ve been to the beach and the pool, even though we had an intense heat wave and several thunderstorms, I’m not in summer mode. I’m still playing catch-up from the end of the school year and my mother’s visit and even the 48 Hour Book Challenge.

I’m hoping to turn the corner this weekend as my new library branch has its grand opening on Saturday, and I have my first totally free, no-obligation day on Sunday. Then it’s day camp for the girls, and the first meeting of the summer book club with my Girl Scouts. Don’t forget to join us on Wednesday, July 2nd, to discuss Shug, by Jenny Han. Followed by a bonus author interview! We’ll be snacking on cherry popsicles here, and I might suggest you do the same. After all, it’s summer.

That’s when I caught the escaped hamster. 2:00 a.m. I am the most devoted mother ever, and one of the most tired. The hormonal soup of anxiety and adrenaline have left me physically wrecked, but I’ll take the day to recover and hit our 48 Hour Film Project screening tonight with full energy — and a caged hamster at home.

My Poetry Friday contribution is an original piece about my experience.

As a mother I expected diapers and crying.
Boo-boos and bee stings
Hurt knees and hurt feelings.
I was prepared for sick days, sleepless nights,
tantrums, homework, and sibling squabbles.
But there are times
When it comes down to moments
Of pure absurdity.
A grown woman stalking a hamster.
Staring in the dim light for hours
The taste of being a hero
Resting in the sweet smell of strawberry
in a tin can covered, finally, thankfully,
By the hand of a mom.

The Poetry Friday round-up is done by Writer2B. And in case I don’t get another chance to say it, Happy Mother’s Day!

I haven’t played in my StatCounter keyword analysis for a while, but it’s always so much fun. I found an older poem that I put together with some favorite searches in the Diamond form. I was originally inspired by the form of a OULIPO, a poetry challenge at Miss Rumphius. I think the searches are so funny, and yet so telling at the same time. That’s why I love ’em. The first one is from a while ago, the second one I created today.

poetry
Mo definitely
adult readers theatre
100 top grossing breads
funny story on being teachable
preschool books about boyfriends, girlfriends
teenage group personality quizzes
seven animals in one picture
Kadir Nelson knock off
BACA members
poppies

Yarn bugs
Pigeon pajamas
Attack of Literacy
Condescending forgotten poem
Stop dressing your daughter like a slut
Weird and wacky poems for kids
Land of Little Horses
Poems in spanis
Baca logo

My favorite searches are “Mo definitely” and “Condescending forgotten poem.” I can’t even imagine what that second one means, but the Mo definitely is right on target. Check out the Poetry Friday round-up at Big A, little a.

I wanted to find a poem that expressed my crushing disappointment in this upcoming weekend, but since I couldn’t find one, I had to write one. Is this how all this writing stuff starts?

Seven Calls

One to the friend who used to be like a sister,
but has pulled away little by little,
but now as a mother, maybe a chance to
reconnect.
One to the cousin with the most golden hair
who used to embody an ideal of perfection
and now is a mother of two lovely girls
like me.
One to the aunt who exists in memories
of summer as a child during vacations
at the seashore, in two houses or in one
all together.
One to the actor, also a cousin
and once in those same summers,
an almost could-have-been
best friend.
One to the vet who keeps the cat
who is too sick to stay home alone
but needs care and shots,
every day.
One to the neighbor to feed the cats
left at home with two litter boxes,
two bowls of water and food, and
each other.
One to the mother to let her know
the plans to visit family, to pass on good wishes
and a promise of a call when the weekend
is over.

Then
One child
One restless night
One thermometer
One high fever
One dose of Motrin
One moment of realization
One wave of disappointment.

Seven more calls.

Poetry Friday round-up is at Mentor Texts and More. Enjoy the poetry variety show as I try to recover some aspect of my weekend. Boo-hoo.

Earlier this week, like right after the ALA awards, Chasing Ray asked book bloggers what they were looking forward to reading this year. Most of the participants put forth the 2008 titles they were craving, but I didn’t have any to mention. See, it will take me the next two months to catch up on the 2007 titles I missed, either because I hadn’t heard of them yet or because my library hadn’t received them yet. I do have a list and it’s over fifty titles long — which seems a tad ambitious for two months of reading. Why post a full list that will certainly only end in disappointment?

Later in my blog traveling, I found a poetry challenge over at Miss Rumphius Effect — namely to turn book titles into a modified cento. While that still might have been too much for me to handle, as it turns out I had to work yesterday at the library during an all-day “wintery mix” weather event. You know how many people chose to come to the library in the DC area during a mix of snow, sleet and rain that lasts all day? Not many. Not many at all. So I had time at the desk — boy, did I have time — to offer up a cento of some of the 2007 titles I’m planning to read. Enjoy.

Here at the mysterious edge
of the heroic world.
There is no talking.
It is still.
Just grace and serenity rule.
Search the Book of a Hundred Truths
for the way of water, or paint the wind
in colorful strokes,
or try to catch a mermaid
in the sea.
Step into the Garden of Eve,
carnation, lily, lily, rose
at your feet.
The leading ladies, the wild girls,
are at home
in this parade of shadows.
With a leap of faith
you can be too.

Here are the titles: The Mysterious Edge of the Heroic World; No Talking; Still Just Grace; The Book of a Hundred Truths; The Way of Water; Paint the Wind; To Catch a Mermaid; The Garden of Eve; Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose; The Leading Ladies; The Wild Girls; In this Parade of Shadows; Leap of Faith.

The Poetry Friday round-up is over at Farm School today.

I don’t have time for a full-on post today, but I remembered this little “found poem” I created recently from a particular collection of email titles in my bulk message folder. When I saw the headers, they looked like poetry. Odd poetry, but poetry none the less.

Spam Poem

Information, Publication
Secure Registration
Instruction, Warning
[none]
[none]

Check out My
Never Thought I
Can’t Believe She
But It Makes Me

This Decision
Should Not
Be Made Lightly
But May Be Necessary

Returns Control
Message Processed
All girls like the big guys
[none]
[none]

For more traditional poems, head over to the Poetry Friday round-up over at Two Writing Teachers.

My week has been tough. I lost the first round of Volunteer Chicken, which means I now have the responsibility of placing kids in Girl Scout troops at my school. Unfortunately, there are a lot more girls than troops, so some of the moms of these troopless youngsters are going to have to step up and make a troop — or two. And guess who has to talk them into it? Oh, and I need to pay attention to my own troop at some point this month, since we’re going camping in a week.

As if that weren’t enough, I coordinate the Drama Club for the school. I generally don’t mind doing it, because it’s very little work. I change the dates on a flyer that I inherited from the coordinator before me. I photocopy it, the teachers hand it out, I pull together the forms and money from the kids who’ve joined. After that, it’s pretty much in the hands of the instructor.

But today, as the last straw in my volunteering haze, I received an email from the County Schools Official in Charge of Meaningless Things telling me that I can’t use the name of the instructor’s company on the flyer itself. Did I mention that it’s the same flyer that’s been used for at least four years? Knowing that, I hadn’t waited for the official go-ahead, and it’s been copied, gone home, and been returned. So, oops? But the best part is that under her signature she had the phrase “Pray for Peace.” On a county email. In this extremely politically-correct county. I mean, how can I object to the phrase “Pray for Peace”? Everyone wants peace, right? But still, “pray” is a pretty loaded word for an official email. I’d say more loaded than my including Acting for Young People on my flyer.

Anyway, the whole thing has given me the Volunteering Blues and inspired me to write this poem. Actually it’s more like a song, especially given that I had the tune in mind as I wrote it. Whatever — I think it counts for Miss Rumphius’s Poetry Challenge and for Poetry Friday. Read, Write, Believe has the round-up. Now who has the guitar to accompany my singing?

The Volunteering Blues
I’ve got the volunteering blues.
I’ve got the do-gooder blues.
Ain’t got a moment to call my own.
Am I too old to run away from home?
Lawd, would someone get me off of the phone!
I’ve got the volunteering blues.
I’ve got the do-gooder blues.
The Girl Scout troops and the PTA —
I’m not sure I can make it through another day.
And here comes a memo from the county to say,
“You used the wrong words for your Drama Club play!”
If everyone thinks I’m doing it all wrong,
Then why have they stayed away for far too long?
They’re the reason why I’m writing this here song.
I’ve got the volunteering blues.
I’ve got the do-gooder blues.
Ain’t got a moment to call my own.
Am I too old to run away from home?
Lawd, would someone get me off of the phone!
I’ve got the volunteering blues.
I’ve got the do-gooder blues.

You can take a bit of my blues away by giving me some titles for the list of Best Books of 2007 (So Far). I have just under thirty participants, and I’m still missing a HUGE book. Think YA.

A poem about a root canal? Okay, you asked for it (and I didn’t have anything else for Poetry Friday).

Teeth!
Don’t talk to me about teeth.
I don’t want to hear about
cavities or bridges or
God forbid, root canals!

For years, my worst nightmares
have been about losing my teeth.
Not usually through some accident
that wasn’t my fault,
but through my own obsessive need
to wiggle and wiggle the teeth loose,
even though I know
(in the dream)
that’s it’s a terrible idea.

I’ve heard or thought or guessed
that these nightmares represent loss.
Maybe not death,
Probably not death,
But other significant loss —
of the perfect body
of the best friend
of the writer’s hopes.
Which makes it more devastating
that I am responsible.
I am eating the doughnuts.
I am ignoring the phone calls.
I am delaying the writing.

Teeth!
Don’t talk to me about teeth.
I don’t want to hear about
cavities or bridges or
God forbid, root canals!

Unless...

Cavities are just emptiness
That could be filled with clear water
and long walks.
Bridges can be built between friends
who have lost touch.
And root canals.
Root canals can
Dig out the poison
of hesitation, procrastination
to let the healthy hopes
grow stronger.

I was on the computer rather late last night, and these thoughts popped into my head in sequence and almost in perfect haiku form. With a bit of tweaking I had the following MotherReader original:

Thunderstorm at night
Welcomed rain on crisp, brown lawns
Crap! The pool towels!

So today we’ll be heading to the pool only if our towels dry from the drenching they received last night. Not a bad plan, overall, because it gives me time to tell you about a book of poems by Eileen Spinelli.

In Someday, the free-verse poems alternate between the little girl’s dreams and her realities. While she imagines riding a dolphin and learning the secrets of the sea, instead she is feeding her fish, and thinking that goldfish may not have secrets. (The first part reminded me of my own near-dolphin experience of last week. I got chills.) The poems reflect every child’s need to dream big and let their imagination run wild. This poem was my favorite because I love the image and idea of painting on the seashore.

Someday
I am going to be
a great artist.
I will wear a blue smock.
I will carry my paints
to the beach
to paint the sea.
A very rich person
will offer to buy my painting
for two million dollars.
But I will smile.
And I will say: “I’m sorry,
this painting is not for sale.
It is a gift for my art teacher.”
Someday...

The other reason I am fond of this particular poem is for the nod to the underappreciated art teachers everywhere — many of whom are heading back to school this week to inspire kids and teens, and could probably use a Someday image to hold onto.

I do have to say that with regard to the art of the book itself, I was not crazy about the whole bucktooth thing the girl’s got goin’ on. There were times when it wasn’t used, and other times when it wasn’t distracting, but I really didn’t like it on the cover. Even the American Girl books don’t replicate the bucktooth thing from the famously bucktoothed dolls. Otherwise, the illustrations captured the scenes well with a gentle, dreamy touch. Also, I liked that the book could be used as a beginning reader as well as a read-aloud for a preschooler. A strong girl, poetry, imagination, big dreams — this little book has got it all. Enjoy with your own dreamer.

Poetry Friday’s host is Kelly Fineman, and she already has a fair number of links up. Maybe everyone is trying to get their posts up and then head out of town before summer is over. Waaaah!

Last week I combined the answers to my Summer Contest in one poem. Since then, I've received more entries which you'll find pulled together in today's poem. I'm also naming the winner of the contest, but first...

Summer Day

Getting up early,
Before anyone else is awake,
And weeding the garden as the sun rises.
Enjoying the luxury of a second breakfast
Of just-made blueberry muffins.
Kids on the patio
Knowing there is no reason
to rush off
Unless it is to have
an adventure.
Walking at the edge of the ocean
Collecting interesting
Shells,
Rocks,
Sharks’ teeth
And looking out over
The breathtaking sea.
Wearing flip-flops or
Going barefoot.
Eating crabs on the back porch
Or popsicles under a shady tree.
Buying the sweetest strawberries.
Or picking them from a patch.
Every choice, every option
a pure delight.
Listening to crickets
and the songs of tree frogs
as the night falls.
Staying out past bedtime
Catching fireflies in glass jars
And then
At the very close of the day
Setting them free.

Thanks again to everyone for their summer suggestions which led to my foray into original poetry. The winner of the signed book Cassie Was Here is Charlotte of Charlotte's Library! Congratulations and enjoy!

Today I have an original summer poem, but it’s not really my poem — it’s yours. I took all the entries so far for my Summer Contest and pulled them together into one poem. It involved a little tweaking, a few interesting line breaks, and some added imagery. I’m not a great judge of these things, but I think it’s pretty good.


Keep submitting your ideas for enjoying the summer, and I’ll pick someone at random to win the book Cassie Was Here. And I’m sure I’ll come up with something to send off too. (Pssst. Anyone have something cool I can send to the winner?)

Summer

Eating watermelon off the rind,
and spitting out the seeds.
Floating on your back
in the nearest body of water,
and gazing up at the summer clouds
as they drift from one animal shape
into another.
Sitting on the screened-in porch,
a breeze blowing,
reading a great book
for once
ignoring
all the things to do,
knowing there will be
more time
more time
tomorrow.
Eating lemon chills at the zoo,
or taking time for a book shopping spree.
Bouncing on a soft springy tundra,
rolling down a hill,
and eating blueberries
right off the bushes
the way the bears do.
In the far, far, north,
gliding on the deck
when it’s midnight
and the sun’s
still shining.
Scrunching toes in the sand,
playing with the little crabs,
collecting tiny shells,
and hoping for
the perfect sand dollar.
Seeing forward to the point,
when the book
is abandoned,
and the blanket is grubby,
and you still can’t force yourself
to leave the rhythmic
soughing
and sighing
of the sea.

Not bad, huh? Mentor Texts & More is doing the Poetry Friday Round-Up this week and is also collecting reviews for an upcoming Picture Book Carnival.

I’ll be reading me some Harry Potter today, tomorrow, and Sunday. Or so it seems. Apparently, it is harder to read at a baseball game than one might think. So I’ve got some catching up to do. Please be sure to see the song that Hank Green did at Brotherhood 2.0 about waiting for the Harry Potter book. It is really amazing. I made it my business to suggest it to MuggleNet and the Leaky Cauldron and GalleyCat and a few other places. Why not do the same in the name of the NerdFighters? (Oh, if you are not a Brotherhood 2.0 watcher, I should mention that NerdFighters as a name is from the vblog. It’s not like I’m getting some complex or something. On the other hand, I did bring a book to a major league baseball game, so perhaps I need to admit something to myself.)