Poetry Friday – Sourdough Dansa Poem

Today is Poetry Friday and our wonderful host is Heidi Mordhorst at my juicy little universe. She shares a treasure chest of poems by young poets–so inspiring!

This week, I have another poem inspired by Alan j Wright; it’s the dansa. Today I flew to my daughter Katie’s. I thought it was  appropriate to write on the topic of sourdough, since Katie and I have flown cross country with our sourdough starter, Stanley Beast. It was born in Bahrain during the Covid pandemic, April 2020 and survives today, thanks to some creative transporting. Read more about the dansa form at Alan’s post with his dansa, “Whistler in the Winter Wind”. More info on the dansa at Writer’s Digest here.

Sourdough

Living, breathing sourdough
Bacteria and natural yeast
Join for bread’s height increase
In French it’s levain. Hello,
Living, breathing sourdough!

Freshly baked bread, thick piece
Complex and worthy of a feast
Smell the bread, crust all aglow
Yum! Living, breathing sourdough!

Covid time birthed in the Middle East
Then to America you came, Stanley Beast
Two years later after a slight, deathblow!
No more living, breathing sourdough

But Stanley lived on, at least,
For I had shared it, so Katie beefed-
up my starter, mostly nouveau
again living, breathing sourdough

Stanley is again free to release
his magic—careful not to decease
It’s easier to digest, did you know?
It’s living, breathing sourdough


Here’s a little (read a lot) Sourdough Science that may have helped me a bit as I composed.

Clockwise: 1) Jar of Stanley Beast sourdough starter 2) 100g for a loaf of bread 3) Loaf of sourdough 4) Sliced sourdough

Slice of Life – Quail Coming To Life

16 April 2024 TwoWritingTeachers.org

Yesterday I sat in a poetry workshop with Shutta Crum. She led us in three new poetry forms. It was a relaxing time to write and listen to other poets share. The workshop was free, and part of the Jax Poetry Fest, which is hosted by Hope at Hand, a Florida non-profit “that provides art and poetry sessions to vulnerable and at-risk youth populations.”  There are still a dozen or more one-hour workshops available throughout April. The schedule is here.

I wrote yesterday and today about the Gambel’s quail that populate my yard here in the Mojave Desert.

Double Tetractys (Greece)

Quail
Scampers
Wondering
When her eggs will
hatch. For now she hurries then hides away

again. Springtime is here. She knows it’s close
Prehatch Checklist:
Seek more seeds.
Dust bath.
Wait.

Pensee (French)

Quail mom
waits for her brood
dreams of little knob’s hatching
nestful under the creosote
in anticipation

Chastushka (Russia)

Waiting, thinking ’bout her babies
(Handy, weather’s not like Hades)
Quailing mother shunning snarers
Watches eggs, this gentle bearer

Today at Ethical ELA’s #Verselove we wrote a praise poem called Kwansaba. I kept my quail theme going.

Sevens Up with Dave Wooley

I wake up to the quail singing
praise. After a winter of denned-down
waiting, they make their sweet company known:
In the flutter and rhythm of wings
In the scurry of food enough pursuit
In their joy of dusty dry bathing
I remind myself to praise this day.

I couldn’t get a good picture today, just this mama quail walking in the brush (lower right hand corner).

Here is a papa quail calling out praise…

#Verselove 2024 – A Week of Poetry 2

8. Zip Code Poem Memoir with Mo Dailey 

Suburban Los Angeles is home
🏡
I never thought I would move
and have
another

I was twenty-two when I moved in

with a friend. Today we live

in wonder across miles

I married you
and for the first time I live in snow–
well, in a house,
an old
frigid one

Iowa farming!
no
🚜
not us, but my
class

One baby and
another on the way our first home
with a yard and
swing
and cuddles, lullabies, and play

girls started school in the desert
Saguaros and heat
home for us
🏊🏼‍♀️
they hoped to never leave

Fourteen years later
back
¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯
in Iowa
home

Bahrain didn’t have zip codes, but
One interesting thing is we could get
delivered to church, school, or hospital with just BOX
and Manama, Kingdom of Bahrain

Our retirement home is small and good
two of us
fit just
so, except we can make room for
much company

9. True or False List Poem with Denise Krebs

By Denise Krebs
After Dean Young

  1. I am much younger inside than I appear.
  2. Jury duty is for the birds.
  3. Ishmael is also a son of Abraham.
  4. Guns have no constructive purpose.
  5. The enemy has damaged everything in the sanctuary.
  6. The day you eat it your eyes will be open.
  7. I don’t need a reason.
  8. There is chaos in spilled milk.
  9. You can have too much storage space.
  10. That tiny silver sliver in the sky is still full.
  11. The computer in my pocket rules the day.
  12. Dean Young was an ordinary poet.

read more here

10. Celebration of Yourself in All its Complexities with Joanne Emery

My Life: A Word Want

My life was a word want
It ate, it slept, it haunted
the lexicon and mined for more
It modified its field of study
often always stirring
up another
term
concept
expression
It laughed, it cried, it blurred
the dictionary page to raise its
own little words, like fiff and yit
and whimsical wistful walloping
words of wonder
words of life
Word of Life bringing it light
It wondered, it inferred, it spurred
action in its persistent pupil
My life was a word want

11. Surprising Supplies with Amber

Entrusted Earth Dust

Earth has been entrusted to humans,
But we have neglected our vocation
For the heavy and habitual lust of the
“Ever-expanding consumption of goods”1

Entrusted Earth Dust
can help restore you to your original
anti-consumerism commitment
Curb your buyological urge
with this extraordinary powder
Just sprinkle lightly
On your prefrontal cortex
To ease the addiction
And restore
executive functioning

Made with 100% crushed Amazon returns
Digital delivery sent through WiFi
(No fossil-fuel-guzzling delivery trucks needed)
Cost: absolutely free

Our Mother will thank you


1https://www.thesaurus.com/browse/consumerism

12. An Ode to the Unworthy with Jordan

Ode to the Rock Chipper
You rumble and roar
You don’t give way
to the concrete or asphalt underneath
your dozen rock-hard wheels
You bounce
You heave
You fight back
against the barriers
barummphing to a grinding
halt at red lights
You boom brave and bellicose
with uncovered load
as you roar down the highway
sand and pebbles glitter the way behind you
reminding us that terra firma is anything but
You are the great bearer
of these tiny bits of Earth
in various sizes–
pinheads and pills
bullets and BB’s
gravelly pebbles–
each spilled bit
does your bidding
bouncing behind in your wake
O, Gravel Truck, you have
earned my husband’s
nickname this time–
chipping our windshield

13. The Brain Dump with Barb Edler

Peacock
Featherful eyes fanned out to taunt the world
Staring out at all to flaunt his dominance
Blue-black piercing pupils dot his display
in magic irises of unimaginable iridescence–
meridianroyalcobaltgreenturquoise
Sclera of warm coppery sunshine

His whirled wardrobe
a quiver waving and weaving

Then the early morning
cacophony of peacock’s
screaming shrieking
laughing hahahas
tell us to go home

but we say no,
which is to say
we may look like
weak, scared girls
but we’re not
letting you win

14. If Ever There were a Spring Day so Perfect with Margaret Simon

For Sarah

If you want to be a witness to flourishing,
You are in the right arroyo. Never in
Want of observers, these creatures, down
To their temporal roots in the rock,
Know this once-in-a-lifetime bloom of
Hope is for themselves, and yet
As they share with the animals, the sky,
The sand, and us, we breathe in their life. The
Deepest desire in this moment is to know this
Thing before me. To say thank you. To attend.
Yes, to witness this contribution to creation.
I too have temporal roots, and I
Want this life of hope to always be about
That—thanking, attending, witnessing.

Nolina

Progressive Poem for 2024 is Here

The Progressive Poem for 2024 is continuing each day. So far…

cradled in stars, our planet sleeps,
clinging to tender dreams of peace
sister moon watches from afar,
singing lunar lullabies of hope.
almost dawn. I walk with others,
keeping close, my little brother.
hand in hand, I carry courage
escaping closer to the border.
My feet are lightning;
My heart is thunder.
Our pace draws us closer
to a new land of wonder.
I bristle against rough brush—
poppies ahead brighten the browns.
Morning light won’t stay away —
hearts jump at every sound.
I hum my own little song
like ripples in a stream
Humming Mami’s lullaby
reminds me I have her letter
My fingers linger on well-worn creases,
shielding an address, a name, a promise–
Sister Moon will find always us
surrounding us with beams of kindness
But last night, as we rested in the dusty field,
worries crept in about matters back home
I huddled close to my brother. Tears revealed
the no-choice-need to escape. I feel grown.
Leaving all I’ve ever known
the tender, heavy, harsh of home.
On to maybes, on to dreams,
on to whispers we hope could be.
But I don’t want to whisper! I squeeze Manu’s hand.
“¡Más cerca ahora!” Our feet pound the sand.
We race, we pant, we lean on each other
I open my canteen and drink gratefully.
Thirst is slaked, but I know we’ll need
more than water to achieve our dreams.

April 1 Patricia Franz at Reverie
April 2 Jone MacCulloch
April 3 Janice Scully at Salt City Verse
April 4 Leigh Anne Eck at A Day in the Life
April 5 Irene at Live Your Poem
April 6 Margaret at Reflections on the Teche
April 7 Marcie Atkins
April 8 Ruth at There is No Such Thing as a God Forsaken Town
April 9 Karen Eastlund
April 10 Linda Baie at Teacher Dance
April 11 Buffy Silverman
April 12 Linda Mitchell at A Word Edgewise
April 13 Denise Krebs at Dare to Care
April 14 Carol Varsalona at Beyond Literacy Link
April 15 Rose Cappelli at Imagine the Possibilities
April 16 Sarah Grace Tuttle
April 17 Heidi Mordhorst at my juicy little universe
April 18 Tabatha at Opposite of Indifference
April 19 Catherine Flynn at Reading to the Core
April 20 Tricia Stohr-Hunt at The Miss Rumphius Effect
April 21 Janet, hosted here at Reflections on the Teche
April 22 Mary Lee Hahn at A(nother) Year of Reading
April 23 Tanita Davis at (fiction, instead of lies)
April 24 Molly Hogan at Nix the Comfort Zone
April 25 Joanne Emery at Word Dancer
April 26 Karin Fisher-Golton at Still in Awe
April 27 Donna Smith at Mainely Write
April 28 Dave at Leap of Dave
April 29 Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge
April 30 Michelle Kogan at More Art for All

Poetry Friday – Trinet

It’s Poetry Friday and Jone MacCulloch is hosting today. She has an interview with Carol Labuzzetta about the new anthology Picture Perfect Poetry, published this week. Thank you for hosting, Jone. 

I remember when I learned that pigs are not able to look up into the sky. Did you know that little fact?

I learned it last year in a trinet by Alan j Wright. I was amused by his poem, and the form was new for me. I often like to try new forms, but I didn’t. Then just last week Alan revisited the trinet, so I was reminded to give it a try. The trinet is 7 lines, with word counts of 2-2-6-6-2-2-2. (Thank you, Alan for the inspiration!)

Words

windswept wonders

wistful terms

welcome to the whistling expressions stirred

haunting the lexicon mining for words

whimsy inferred

sometimes absurd

communication heard


I thought the shape of the first one looked like an angel, so I had to try a second one.

Angel

speaks warnings

wears wings

wondering who started idea they’re singing

guiding, pointing the way to heaven

angel guest

visiting Earth

commissioned above

Image by b0red from Pixabay

A third one, looking much less angelic, was for this week’s “This Photo Wants to be a Poem” at Margaret’s Reflections on the Teche.

Halo

Encircling umbra

Brilliance ablaze

Magical dance of moon and sun

New celestial feats eclipse our understanding

Oohing ahhing

Awestruck, unparalleled

Eyewitnesses ensorcelled

Image by Dave Davidson from Pixabay

 

Slice of Life – True or False? Perhaps?

9 April 2024 TwoWritingTeachers.org

True or False?

  1. I saw the eclipse on the sidewalk on Monday.
  2. I drove through the Morongo grade and spied a big horn sheep on the mountain.
  3. I am hosting over at Ethical ELA’s Verselove today.
  4. I saw two baby giraffes yesterday.

Three of those things are true. One is false. Any guesses?


First, look at these beauties.  A one-month-old and a two-month-old!

Second, the sun was eclipsed by the moon by about 62% where we were Monday. The maximum view happened at 11:14 a.m. We had  finished walking at the zoo at about 10:30, so I didn’t want to leave and find myself sitting in a restaurant at the max time. So we got a sandwich at the zoo snack bar.

I guess I thought it would get noticeably darker, but that sun didn’t miss a beat! I didn’t notice a smidgeon of darkening in the sky. I didn’t have any glasses to look up at the eclipse, so instead I found a shaded spot that allowed tiny images of the sun to shine through. I stood enjoying the view under this trellis at the zoo. When people would venture by, I’d tell them they could see what was happening in the eclipse in the shadows on the sidewalk. It was a conversation starter and fun to see the shadows move about as the flowers above were blowing in the wind.

The third truth is that I am hosting at Ethical ELA today. We are writing True/False poems, and you don’t have to identify which lines are true or false. (If you read my “True or False” post last month, you might want to join us. If you didn’t read it, you still might want to join us!) Click here to check it out.

The lie, you may have figured out, is that I still have not seen another big horn sheep in the wild in Morongo.

#Verselove 2024 – A Week of Poetry 1

7. Things (Better) Left Unsaid with James Coats

Seattle, 1:04 p.m.

it happened that second
in time, after much pushing
groaning and sweating

the world grew by one
and I knew reality
would never be the same

another life
another personality
our family has grown

the world has grown
then I held you as your
bright eyes gleamed

and I was a new person
a grammy first

6. Photographic Poem with Katrina Morris

Your
Grammy
Holds on, but
Your dimples dance,
Feasting on freedom,
Sipping steep grades, your joy.
Restrain your rapture? Never!
When you summit this stony slant
You’ll keep going, for you carry stars

5. Friday Date Night with Leilya Pietre

We went to that park in Long Beach
With the beautiful walking path around a lake
I thought a break-up was imminent

We walked and then sat looking at the water
And you asked me to marry you
It took me awhile to say, Not yet.

Seven years later, I nestled into your safe yes.

4. Alphabeticals with Jennifer Guyor-Jowett

a’s bobbed tail
b’s oft flip fail
c’s open quote
d’s half note
e’s toothy grin
f’s shelf built in
g’s beckoning
h’s reckoning
i’s reaching
j’s leaching
k’s a kicker
l’s a licker
m’s a mountain
n’s spilled fountain
o’s looking round
p’s feeling proud
q’s dainty
r’s fainty
s’s slither’s slow
t’s a compass rose
u’s embrace
v’s a vase
w’s two vases
x’s holding spaces
y’s the wise owl
z’s zigzag scowl

3. Inspirational Places with Wendy Everard

Pittsburgh’s in Jack Gilbert

As we rode Duquesne Incline,
he already was old and in Berkeley. Steel City
watches over the growing of knowing,
for heirlooms of progeny. But this
morning, the three rivers backdrop
for thunderstorms, Andy Warhol and
the bridges of a city bring light to our
dark, pathways of connections.
To this city we came just to
give our kids a taste of Primati Bros.
(way too much cole slaw),
and the Pirates, and Randyland, a
show of hue saturation and celebration.
His hometown was the
landfall of his view from Paris,
the eye of his childhood, always
new. As each of us have our own past, in city or
country, we are products of our nurturing.
His lifetime weaving carried the thread of his
native city, coloring the world, his poetry with
land-roots of comfort and claiming.


Golden shovel striking line is “As he watches for morning, for the dark to give way and show his landfall, the new country, his native land.” By Jack Gilbert in “Looking at Pittsburgh from Paris”

2. The Magic Box with Bryan Ripley Crandall

List of ten that started this Magic Box poem: a green thumb, “beam me up” travel, lie detector machine, ointment to remove the pain in my right hand, reading and reducing and replacing tsundoku, Colin Kaepernick protest redo, Palestinians having their own homeland again with a good and fair government, connection with others, an organized email with an inbox that gets emptied daily, peace on earth really.

A Redo of Kneeling

My visitor today is a green thumb–
my plants clothed in need
now fed and watered with a hum

The smooth slander spotter,
reviler revealer, lifts
the weight of the world
and clears out the system

Beaming to Pennsylvania on
the wings of hearing,
really hearing you this time,
better beside the blooms,
not a long way from heaven,
not killing time,
but living and breathing freedom

Freedom tastes gentle
It’s never-ending relief
instantaneous sustenance
of hope and release

Transporting success
on the creaking knees of the old
and the knowing knees of the young
A redo please
of a quiet anthem
that hears
listens
and finds
justice

1. #hashtagacrostics with Kim Johnson

#Deliberatelydiligentdiscerner
#Eternallyemergingevolver
#Nonsensicallynaiveniceness
#Inherentlyimprobableindependence
#Solidsecondhandskeptic
#Especiallyeagerentrant

Poetry Friday – A Date

Today’s Poetry Friday roundup is over at Irene Latham’s Live Your Poem blog. She has today’s line of the Progressive Poem, pockets full of poems, prayers and more. Thank you for hosting Irene.

Today’s #Verselove prompt is to write about a date night. Do join in if you want to draft a poem with us.

A Date

By Kevin McFadden

The first seated takes the chance he’ll be
stood up. She’s getting on with the hope she may
get off. One and one make one
in this riddle. Or, more closely, comedy routine:
first, impressions; second, observations.

I wrote a sevenling about a strange date I had with my boyfriend.

We went to that park in Long Beach
It has a beautiful walking path around a lake
I thought a break-up was imminent
We walked and then sat looking at the water
And you asked me to marry you
I was surprised and didn’t answer
Today, we both can’t remember the name of the park

Seven years later, I finally said yes.