Poetry Friday: Who’s to Blame?

Me. I’m to blame. I had the challenge for the Poetry Sisters this month. I found it in THE CREATIVITY PROJECT, edited by Colby Sharp. Each of the forty-four contributors to the book submitted two prompts. Colby doled out the prompts, each person receiving two from which they could choose one to use “to inspire an awesome creation.” The book is filled with those wildly creative creations! In addition, the book contains “forty-four fresh new prompts, one from each contributor, intended for you, to inspire your own creations.” I chose Colby’s challenge from page 257:

It was all my fault.

This prompt has been haunting me a bit. First there was the article earlier in the week from Maria Popova’s Marginalian, “How to Reconcile Your Most Painful Mistakes: The Life-Shaping Difference Between Regret and Remorse” containing this perfectly spot-on bit:

“You know it, that awful moment your coherent self-image shatters and a part of you, shadowy and untended, splits off to cause harm and havoc as the rest of you watches helplessly, wincing. You know the next moment, too — the desperate wish for an undo button you know cannot be had, no matter your protestations and prostrations.”

Oh, yeah. The list of things in my life that have been all my fault are definitely wince- and cringe-worthy. I couldn’t imagine writing about any of those.

Then Seth Godin’s blog post today dropped into my inbox with the title “Responsibility, fault, blame and shame” and this zinger of an ending:

“Shame’s the deal killer, the dream destroyer and toxic. It’s often on offer, but we don’t have to accept it.”

We don’t have to accept the shame. Let’s write that on our hearts and move forward.

Luckily, I had several very fruitful inspirations for my poem(s) today. First, in our zoom on Sunday, some of the other Poetry Sisters suggested using an inanimate object, a cascade of events, an environmental crisis, or a mentor poem such as “13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” or “This is Not to Say.” Those suggestions helped free me from my life-list of blunders. But it was Joyce Sidman’s book DEAR ACORN (LOVE, OAK), which sits at the end of my desk, that gave me my entry point. That book, plus some recent events in my garden.

Tricia has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at The Miss Rumphius Effect, and the rest of the Poetry Sisters’ offerings are here:

Laura @ Laura Purdie Salas
Liz @ Liz Garton Scanlon
Sara @ Read Write Believe
Tanita @ {fiction, instead of lies}

Poetry Friday: Goodbye Iris

Goodbye Iris

Mom’s iris thrived
in the dry
Eastern Colorado climate.
Here,
I fear,
they won’t survive.

This low spot
is the plot
with sun
but it floods.
Their feet stay wet
and rot.

Nothing
and no one
lasts forever.
We must adapt
when it no longer works
to persevere.

I hope she would understand –
I tried.
And though not with iris
there are a thousand 
other ways
I keep her memory alive.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2026 draft

Night before last, we had 4 inches of rain over the course of a couple of hours. The day before that was the first dry day after 11 days straight of rain. We have named the low spot in the easement and the iris bed “Lake Lincoln.” The zinnias are managing to deal with the constant intermittent flooding, but I’m afraid the iris are on their way out. I will save any I can and adapt to what seems to be the new normal of slow moving storms that produce torrential rains by planting a rain garden. (So far, we are more than 8 inches above our normal rainfall.) Although, it would be just my luck that the weather patterns would shift and we’d be thrown into the severe drought that other places in the country are suffering…

We’ve got a week of dry and cooler weather coming up next week and you can bet we’re going to enjoy it. The places around the area that had more severe flooding will be cleaning up and drying out. The parts of town that were hit hardest by a tornado and straight line winds in the 8/11 deracho storm are still working to clear downed and damaged trees.

Denise has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at Dare to Care.

Poetry Friday: June Garden

Skullcap

I’ve been savoring the micro-seasons of our garden and our climate zone. It’s the season of bottle-brush buckeyes, fireflies, and cone flowers. In our garden, the rattlesnake master is going to bloom for the first time, and both the taller-than-me bergamot and the royal catchfly are filled with buds, too. Bring on the next season of blooms!

It’s been a season away from writing for me. Hence, the repurposed poem I wrote and posted just about this time last year. Even though I haven’t been writing, I’m here to celebrate having written. I will write again. Everything in its season.

I’m glad I didn’t publish the July-December roundup schedule — there’s been a small change. Linda B. and Tabatha switched spots. I’ll be sending out the html code soon to those who’ve requested it in the past. If you want it for your sidebar, let me know at marylee.hahn at g mail dot com.

Buffy has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at Buffy Silverman.

Poetry Friday: Ode to My Garden

I had the Inklings challenge this month: “Use a recent comment on one of your posts as a line in a poem.” Jan (Bookseedstudio) left the first two lines of this poem in the comments on my May 26 post. Her comments often sound like poems or lines from poems, so she made my job easy!

I have two kinds of peony and two kinds of foxglove. I tried to capture their personalities in my sketches. I’m having fun pairing stick-on quotes with my sketches. They provide a surprise caption.

Here’s how the rest of the Inklings (except for Margaret, who is vacationing with her family) met this month’s challenge:

Catherine @Reading to the Core
Heidi @my juicy little universe
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Linda @A Word Edgewise

Mona has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at Mona Voelkel.

The roundup schedule filled in record time! Thanks to all who volunteered!

Poetry Friday: Fireflies

Another garden/yard poem this week. I wondered in my comment on Ruth’s post last week if I’d see fireflies this year. I will never again take any of my more-than-human neighbors for granted. But we’ve been blessed. They are still here…for now. Gratitudes to Linda for the “clunker” from which this poem was born: “stir stars in a clockwise motion.”

Next week is a Poetry Sister challenge week (and I think I better get started now!): we’re writing  Raccontinos. 

The week after that, on Friday, July 4, is the challenge I posed on the roundup host calendar, doubling as the Inkling challenge:

Please join us in writing poems of protest on our nation’s birthday. Let’s use our voices and our art to make some noise! Feel free to write in praise of democracy and patriotism if you’ve just about had it up to here with all of the assorted “Nonsense on Stilts” (a term coined by Jeremy Bentham and also the title of a book by Massimo Pigliucci that Mr. Mary Lee is currently reading).

Carol has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at The Apples In My Orchard.

Poetry Friday: Garden Chant

Don’t forget the fleabane and phlox!

Chant of the June Garden

Boneset
hummingbird
Bowman’s Root
bee

zinnia sprout
hollyhocks
Cardinal Flower
weeds

coral bells
baby dill
fennel fronds
tree

clematis
foxglove
primrose
me

(c) Mary Lee Hahn, 2025

Ruth has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town.

Thanks to all for filling the July-December calendar of roundup hosts in record time!

Poetry Friday: Ode to the October Garden

Tattered curtain of fennel
Grape Hyacinth foliage in front of what was a Blazing Star

Linda gave the Inklings a most generous and lovely prompt for this month: “Use this poem by Joy Harjo as a mentor text in any way that makes your heart happy.” Thank you, Linda. My heart is, indeed, happy!

Here’s what the other Inklings did with this month’s challenge:

Linda @A Word Edgewise
Catherine @Reading to the Core
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Margaret @Reflections on the Teche
Heidi @my juicy little universe

Patricia has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at Reverie.

Poetry Friday: Seen and Unseen

Christmas Hellebore in December
Christmas Hellebore in January (and she’s STILL blooming in March!)
Under the oak.
Such a beauty!

A daily cherita…

Before I planted hellebores

I never
noticed them.

Now
I see them everywhere.
What else have I been missing?

(c) Mary Lee Hahn, 2024

I’m going to feast my eyes on all the early bloomers in the next couple of days: forsythia, dogwood, magnolias, daffodils, hyacinths, crocuses, and of course, all the hellebores. Because Sunday through Thursday next week the nighttime temperatures will be in the twenties. Before we get there, though, we’ve got to live through the tornado watch for tonight. Ah, springtime.

Cousin Tanita at {fiction, instead of lies} has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup. Or should I say…the UNBOUND up! Here’s to “all things lax, roomy, slack, and slouchy!”