Saturday, April 25, 2015

Progressive Poem Line 25


The formatting isn't transferring to my blog, so go visit Tabatha, author of today's line, to see it. 



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
she reaches, seizes. She’s electric energy
and turquoise eyes.
Lifted high, she gulps strange air – stares
clearly into
 Green pirogue, crawfish trap, startled
fisherman with turquoise eyes, twins
of her own, riveted on her wrist–
She’s swifter than a dolphin,
slipping away,
leaving him only
a handful
of memories
of his own
grandmother’s counsel:
“Watch for her.
You’ll have but one chance
to 
determine—
to decide. Garner wisdom from the water
and from the pearl
of the past.”

In a quicksilver flash,
an arc of resolution, he
leaps
into the shimmering water
where hidden sentries restrain
any pursuit and the bitter taste
of impulse rushes
into his lungs.
Her flipper flutters his weathered toes
     – Pearl’s signal –
Stop struggling.
The Sentinels will escort you
He stills, closes his eyes,
takes an uncharacteristic breath of ...
water!
Released, he swims,
chasing the

glimmer
of the bracelet
Gran gave the daughter
who reveled in waves,



Friday, April 24, 2015

Poetry Friday: Open Mic

We had an Open Mic at school yesterday afternoon, in honor of National Poetry Month, and we're planning another one for next Thursday.  Kids and teachers read poems, some their own, and sang songs.  One teacher played a song and interpreted it into ASL.

How brave, to stand up in front of everyone and share.  What if others don't like what you chose?  Worse, what if it's your own work, and they don't like it?  What if they don't get it?  What if you sit down, sweating, wishing you hadn't read at all?

Today I spent the day in a workshop about assessment.  We're assessing better now; it's not all about slapping evaluations on kids' work.  We're trying to help them learn through our assessments, helping them take risks and not be penalized for them.  But still, everything we teach, we're supposed to assess.

I thought about poems, about sharing our poems.  How should we assess those courageous moments when you stand in front of people and share words you wrote?  What if someone says it isn't good?  I thought about Naomi Shihab Nye saying poetry isn't about measuring, but about love.

Today at our tables, we told horror stories of bad assessment experiences from our own education, times when we were treated unfairly, times when teachers tried to punish with their power to evaluate, times when we were humiliated, compared with others, made to feel dumb.  And it's so easy to do.  I was talking to one of my students this week.  "Where's that poem you were working on?", I wanted to know, and he said, "You said it was bad."  Turns out, I had asked a question about one line that didn't make sense to me, and he put the whole thing away.  It's bad now, he thinks. 

Come to the Open Mic.  I won't be assessing you.  I'll be listening to the words you speak, whether you wrote them or just loved them.  I'll be snapping my fingers to applaud your willingness to show us.  I'll be feeling what you felt, honored by the chance to look briefly inside your brain, to see the workings of it.  Creating, or appreciating what's been created, is part of what it means to be human, and look, you're doing it!  You're taking a risk!  You're standing up, clearing your throat, speaking.  You're a star.

Renee at No Water River has the roundup today, along with a helpful explanation of what Poetry Friday is.


Progressive Poem, Line 24

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
she reaches, seizes. She’s electric energy and turquoise eyes.

Lifted high, she gulps strange air – stares clearly into
Green pirogue, crawfish trap, startled fisherman

with turquoise eyes, twins of her own, riveted on her wrist–
She’s swifter than a dolphin, slipping away, leaving him only a handful of

memories of his own grandmother’s counsel: Watch for her. You’ll have but one chance to
determine—to decide. Garner wisdom from the water and from the pearl of the past.

In a quicksilver flash, an arc of resolution, he leaps into the shimmering water
Where hidden sentries restrain any pursuit and the bitter taste of impulse rushes into his lungs

Her flipper flutters his weathered toes –Pearl’s signal–Stop struggling. The Sentinels will escort you
He stills, closes his eyes, takes an uncharacteristic breath of ... water! Released, he swims 


Thursday, April 23, 2015

Happy birthday to me!

Today I've been blogging nine years!

Progressive Poem, Line 23

Today's poet is messing with the format!  I love what she's done with the Progressive Poem.  I can't wait to see how it all works out in the end.


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
she reaches, seizes. She’s electric energy
and turquoise eyes.
Lifted high, she gulps strange air – stares
clearly into
 Green pirogue, crawfish trap, startled
fisherman with turquoise eyes, twins
of her own, riveted on her wrist–
She’s swifter than a dolphin,
slipping away,
leaving him only
a handful
of memories
of his own
grandmother’s counsel:
“Watch for her.
You’ll have but one chance
to 
determine—
to decide. Garner wisdom from the water
and from the pearl
of the past.”

In a quicksilver flash,
an arc of resolution, he
leaps
into the shimmering water
where hidden sentries restrain
any pursuit and the bitter taste
of impulse rushes
into his lungs.
Her flipper flutters his weathered toes
–      Pearl’s signal –
Stop struggling.
The Sentinels will escort you





2015 Kidlitosphere
Progressive Poem





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
21 Tara at A Teaching Life
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
30 Matt at Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Progressive Poem, Line 22


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

she reaches, seizes. She’s electric energy and turquoise eyes.

Lifted high, she gulps strange air – stares clearly into

Green pirogue, crawfish trap, startled fisherman

with turquoise eyes, twins of her own, riveted on her wrist–

She’s swifter than a dolphin, slipping away, leaving him only a handful of

memories of his own grandmother’s counsel: Watch for her. You’ll have but one chance to

determine—to decide. Garner wisdom from the water and from the pearl of the past.

In a quicksilver flash, an arc of resolution, he leaps into the shimmering water
Where hidden sentries restrain any pursuit and the bitter taste of impulse rushes into his lungs
 
 

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Progressive Poem, Line 21


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

she reaches, seizes. She’s electric energy and turquoise eyes.

Lifted high, she gulps strange air – stares clearly into

Green pirogue, crawfish trap, startled fisherman

with turquoise eyes, twins of her own, riveted on her wrist–

She’s swifter than a dolphin, slipping away, leaving him only a handful of

memories of his own grandmother’s counsel: Watch for her. You’ll have but one chance to

determine—to decide. Garner wisdom from the water and from the pearl of the past.

In a quicksilver flash, an arc of resolution, he leaps into the shimmering water

Monday, April 20, 2015

Progressive Poem, Line 20

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
she reaches, seizes. She’s electric energy and turquoise eyes.

Lifted high, she gulps strange air – stares clearly into
Green pirogue, crawfish trap, startled fisherman

with turquoise eyes, twins of her own, riveted on her wrist–
She’s swifter than a dolphin, slipping away, leaving him only a handful of

memories of his own grandmother’s counsel: Watch for her. You’ll have but one chance to
determine—to decide. Garner wisdom from the water and from the pearl of the past.



Sunday, April 19, 2015

Progressive Poem, Line 19


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
she reaches, seizes. She’s electric energy and turquoise eyes.

Lifted high, she gulps strange air - stares clearly into
Green pirogue, crawfish trap, startled fisherman

with turquoise eyes, twins of her own, riveted on her wrist–
She's swifter than a dolphin, slipping away, leaving him only a handful of

memories of his own grandmother’s counsel: Watch for her. You’ll have but one chance to


2015 Kidlitosphere
Progressive Poem



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
21 Tara at A Teaching Life
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
30 Matt at Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme