Friday, April 17, 2015

It's Friday!

Oh, dear. I completely forgot it was Friday. Yep. It's been that kind of week.

So I'm scraping up a few lines from a poem I've been working on this week. I'm still tweaking, but I could be tweaking from now to the next time I sail to Antarctica.


Stop by Life on the Deckle Edge where Robyn is hosting the Roundup.

Sinking Ship

Decks heave
timbers scream
bolts break
steel buckles 
hold fills 
planks splinter 

She quivers in pain, 
retches, jerks, 
gasps like a dying beast. 

Those who love her 
curse the ice,
stand nearby and grieve.

© Doraine Bennett, 2015

Monday, April 13, 2015

2015 Progressive Poem

2015ProgressivePoem (1) copy

Welcome to my favorite National Poetry Month activity, dreamed up and monitored by the lovely Irene Latham

I love the progressive poem, the way each day a new poet wrestles a line from his or her interior journey, fixes a string of words onto the last, and waits to see how thoughts so simple, so individual, transform the whole, while at the same time are transformed themselves by this living, breathing poem.

This little mermaid slipping through bayou is just too safe and tranquil for me, so let's infuse a little intrigue! Maybe she'll wish for a net. I'm handing this off to RenĂ©e at No Water River to see what happens next. 

She lives without a net, walking along the alluvium of the delta.
Shoes swing over her shoulder, on her bare feet stick jeweled flecks of dark mica.

Hands faster than fish swing at the ends of bare brown arms. Her hair flows,
snows in wild wind as she digs in the indigo varnished handbag,

pulls out her grandmother’s oval cuffed bracelet,
strokes the turquoise stones, and steps through the curved doorway.

Tripping on her tail she slips hair first down the slide… splash!
She glides past glossy water hyacinth to shimmer with a school of shad,

listens to the ibises roosting in the trees of the cypress swamp–
an echo of Grandmother’s words, still fresh in her windswept memory.

Born from the oyster, expect the pearl.
Reach for the rainbow reflection on the smallest dewdrop.

The surface glistens, a shadow slips above her head, a paddle dips

Follow the progress below:

1 Jone at Check it Out

2 Joy at Poetry for Kids Joy

3 Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe

4 Laura at Writing the World for Kids

5 Charles at Poetry Time Blog

6 Ramona at Pleasures from the Page

7 Catherine at Catherine Johnson

8 Irene at Live Your Poem

9 Mary Lee at Poetrepository

10 Michelle at Today’s Little Ditty

11 Kim at Flukeprints

12 Margaret at Reflections on the Teche

13 Doraine at DoriReads

14 Renee at No Water River

15 Robyn at Life on the Deckle Edge

16 Ruth at There is No Such Thing as a Godforsaken Town

17 Buffy at Buffy’s Blog

18 Sheila at Sheila Renfro

19 Linda at Teacher Dance

20 Penny at A Penny and her Jots

21 Tara at A Teaching Life

22 Pat at Writer on a Horse

23 Tamera at The Writer’s Whimsy

24 Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect

25 Tabatha at The Opposite of indifference

26 Brian at Walk the Walk

27 Jan at Bookseedstudio

28 Amy at The Poem Farm

29 Donna at Mainely Write

30 Matt at Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme

Friday, April 10, 2015

Birthday Acrostic

Yes, it's Poetry Friday. (Visit Laura Purdie Salas for the Roundup.)
Yes, National Poetry Month.

But more importantly it's my grandson Joseph's birthday. 

You can see my read-aloud choices. Both such fun books to read. I'm always wishing my grands weren't half a country away, but my voice travels far.

My acrostic for Joseph at six.

Jiggle and wiggle, be jolly and jump
Over the fence and the ditch and the stump
Seeking a serious somewhere to sit
Even though everyone else does not fit.
Please take the path that will bring you back home.
Help me to see where your feet like to roam.

Monday, April 6, 2015

National Poetry Month


I am playing catch up once again after a wonderful spring break mini vacation, time with my son and his wife, and a lovely Easter.

Here is the link to Jama Rattigan's extraordinary list of all the cool, exciting, poetic opportunities going on this month in the Kidlitosphere.

I will be working on poetry all month, but it will be quietly in my own little corner of the world. The stupendous Renee LaTuillipe set up a partner system among some of her Lyrical Language Lab graduates simply for accountability. As usual I was late to the party, but somehow lucked out and got Renee as my partner. So yeah, you can bet that's going to keep me writing.

I will also be contributing to Irene Latham's progressive poem. It's such fun to watch this poem develop as each poet adds a new line each day. You can follow along below.

And I'll check in occasionally, just because it's April!

1 Jone at Check it Out
5 Charles at Poetry Time Blog
7 Catherine at Catherine Johnson
8 Irene at Live Your Poem
9 Mary Lee at Poetrepository
10 Michelle at Today’s Little Ditty
11 Kim at Flukeprints
12 Margaret at Reflections on the Teche
13 Doraine at DoriReads
14 Renee at No Water River
17 Buffy at Buffy’s Blog
18 Sheila at Sheila Renfro
19 Linda at Teacher Dance
20 Penny at A Penny and her Jots
21 Tara at A Teaching Life
22 Pat at Writer on a Horse
23 Tamera at The Writer’s Whimsy
26 Brian at Walk the Walk
27 Jan at Bookseedstudio
28 Amy at The Poem Farm
29 Donna at Mainely Write

Thursday, March 5, 2015

Eleven Inside

Do you remember being eleven? I do, very distinctly. My head buried in a book more often than not. It's the very age I feel inside. This excerpt from Luci Shaw makes me feel eleven all over again and nourished by the gentle reminder of love given.

from "Gifts for my girl"
by Luci Shaw

At eleven, and always,
you will need to be nourished.
For your mind - poems and plays, words
on the pages of a thousand books:
Deuteronomy, Dante and Donne,
Hosea and Hopkins, L’Engle and Lewis.
For your spirit, mysteries and praise,
sureties and prayer. For your teeth
and tongue, real bread the color
of grain at a feast, baked and broken
fresh each day, apricots and raisins,
cheese and olive oil and honey
that live bees have brought
from the orchard. For drink
I’d pour you a wine
that remembers sun and shadow
on the hillside where it grew,
and spring water wet enough
to slake your forever thirst.

Read the full poem here.

I hope you're feeling nourished, but if you need more poetry for the soul, visit Robyn for Poetry Friday Roundup.

Friday, February 27, 2015

Longing for Spring

I have a bad case of spring fever, and it's not even spring yet. My daffodils are blooming in spite of the temperatures. They've counted the hours of daylight and confirmed it's time to lift their heads look for what the groundhog could not see.

 Bring me fifty shades of green, sweet longed-for Spring.

I'm not alone in my wishing. Take a moment and enjoy a few thoughts on spring and wish with me, then pop over and visit Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe for more Poetry Friday.

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade. ~Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

Spring is sooner recognized by plants than by men. ~Chinese Proverb

I wonder if the Daffodil
Shrinks from the touch of frost,
And when her veins grow stiff and still
She dreams that life is lost?
Ah, if she does, how sweet a thing
Her resurrection day in spring!
        ~Emma C. Dowd, "Daffodil and Crocus," in Country Life in America: A Magazine for the                     Home-maker, the Vacation-seeker, the Gardener, the Farmer, the Nature-teacher, the                           Naturalist, April 1902

You can’t see Canada across lake Erie, but you know it’s there. It’s the same with spring. You have to have faith, especially in Cleveland. ~Paul Fleischman

Saturday, February 21, 2015

Ash Wednesday (Easter Us)

Blogger friend, Ruth at There's No Such Thing as a God-forsaken Town, shared this on her Poetry Friday blog this week. I loved it so much I wanted to share with you.

Marked by Ashes
by Walter Brueggemann

Ruler of the Night, Guarantor of the day . . .
This day — a gift from you.
This day — like none other you have ever given, or we have ever received.
This Wednesday dazzles us with gift and newness and possibility.
This Wednesday burdens us with the tasks of the day, for we are already halfway home
halfway back to committees and memos,
halfway back to calls and appointments,
halfway on to next Sunday,
halfway back, half frazzled, half expectant,
half turned toward you, half rather not.
This Wednesday is a long way from Ash Wednesday,
but all our Wednesdays are marked by ashes —
we begin this day with that taste of ash in our mouth:
of failed hope and broken promises,
of forgotten children and frightened women,
we ourselves are ashes to ashes, dust to dust;
we can taste our mortality as we roll the ash around on our tongues.
We are able to ponder our ashness with
some confidence, only because our every Wednesday of ashes
anticipates your Easter victory over that dry, flaky taste of death.
On this Wednesday, we submit our ashen way to you —
you Easter parade of newness.
Before the sun sets, take our Wednesday and Easter us,
Easter us to joy and energy and courage and freedom;
Easter us that we may be fearless for your truth.
Come here and Easter our Wednesday with
mercy and justice and peace and generosity.
We pray as we wait for the Risen One who comes soon.