This NPM, I am writing acrostic poems using words from the Banned Words List at the Pen America Website. You can find my poems each day on Poetrepository, IG stories, and BlueSky.
April 1 Diversity
April 2 Climate Crisis
April 3 Transgender
April 4 Biases
April 5 Activism
April 6 Community
April 7 Pronouns
April 8 Gay
April 9 Hate
April 10 Elderly
Irene has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at Live Your Poem.
This NPM, I am writing acrostic poems using words from the Banned Words List at the Pen America Website. You can find my poems each day on Poetrepository, IG stories, and BlueSky.
April 1 — Diversity
April 2 — Climate Crisis
April 3 — Transgender
Today, April 4, is an Inklings challenge day. Margaret invited us to try a Shadorma, a Spanish 6-line syllabic poem of 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable lines respectively. So today’s poem, “Biases,” is a Shadorm-acrostic!
Here’s what the rest of the Inklings came up with, if life gave them the elbow room this month to write:
Heidi @my juicy little universe
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Margaret @Reflections on the Teche
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Catherine @Reading to the Core
Matt has the Poetry Friday roundup this week at Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme.
It’s time again for the Poetry Sisters’ Challenge! Here’s the scoop, via Tanita’s blog: “We’re writing back to four Lucille Clifton poems, in her notes to clark kent series: “if i should;” “further note to clark;” “final note to clark;” and “note passed to superman.” We’ll be ‘in conversation’ with Ms. Lucille’s poems – talking to them, talking back to them, or talking about them, whether that’s all of them, or any of them, either in form or in substance.”
I got really really REALLY stuck on this one. Exactly nothing useful showed up in my notebook during our 25 minute work session on Zoom last Sunday. But the magic of a shower to wash away the chlorine from my swim also unlocked the idea box. I think these responses work without reading Lucille’s poems, but just in case, take a minute to read what she said to Clark before you read what Clark wrote back.
(all four Clark Kent Writes Back poems (c) Mary Lee Hahn, 2025)
Liz @ Liz Garton Scanlon
Tanita @ {fiction, instead of lies}
Laura @ Laura Purdie Salas
Tricia @ The Miss Rumphius Effect
Sara @ Read Write Believe
Marcie has this week’s Poetry Friday Roundup at Marcie Flinchum Atkins.
I wrote a post last week about a random Wordle Poem rule I made up for myself. Sometimes I write a Wordle poem using my word choices, but I ALWAYS write a haiku (a Wordle-ku) if I get the answer in three guesses. (I rarely get the answer in three.)
I made up a new rule yesterday. If I get the answer in five, I will write a limerick. Or, as the case may be, a Wordle-imerick. (I often get the answer in five. Maybe this should be a suggestion, rather than a rule…)
3/12 party, laugh, mange, manga, mango
The party was held in Durango.
For a laugh, we danced a wild tango.
So wild we caught mange,
wrote a manga quite strange,
then went to the store for a mango.
(I didn’t say they’d always make sense. But I did get better.)
3/13 chair, champ, chalk, chase (yes, I broke the rule and used a four-word win)
There once was a child in a chair.
Said child had some gum in his hair.
He wasn’t a champ.
Chalk him up as a scamp
chased down with a threat and a glare.
3/19 glory, stare, shark, snark, spark
The ocean — a vast blue-green glory.
I stare at its unfolding story.
The fin of a shark,
and its sharp toothy snark
spark panic before beaches get gory.
They’re slightly addictive, but I’ll stop there. I have two more recent solved-it-in-fives that I’ll Wordle-imerick (it’s also a verb) safely out of sight in my notebook.
Rose has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at Imagine the Possibilities. (Love that blog title!)
The email from The Academy of American Poets (poets.org) told me “Get Ready For National Poetry Month!”
They read my mind. I’ve been auditioning ideas for the past several days:
Revisit favorite poetry books from my classroom collection before I donate them? (No, I’d rather get the books in the hands of young readers BEFORE April begins.)
Wordle poems? (No, too unpredictable and often too goofy or trivial.)
Response to the news? (No. Just…no. No matter how important it is to witness the horrors, this would be way too depressing.)
Nature poems inspired by Mary Oliver’s “Pay attention. / Be astonished. / Tell about it.”? (That I could do.)
Devote the month to a form? (I’ve done haiku, cheritas, and golden shovels. This is a definite possibility. Maybe acrostics. Then I could respond to the news, AND “Pay attention. / Be astonished. / Tell about it.” with or without a nature theme. Let’s give it a try…)
Yesterday, I had my yearly eye checkup, complete with the near-blindness of the drops that dilate your pupils.
DILATED
Devil’s in the details.
Ideally, anyway. But
Leave it to the Big Picture
Archetype to force us to
Try to see everything all at once
Even when we hardly
Dare to open our eyes.
(c) Mary Lee Hahn, 2025 draft
Janice has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at Salt City Verse.
Grandma (Clara) Hahn’s Bread
4 cakes compressed yeast
Almost a century separates us
and yet time compresses –
you are here with me
in my kitchen.
1 cup lukewarm water
I cup my hands around the story
that you once held infant me.
6 tablespoons sugar
It would have sweetened our lives
had the car wreck not happened –
my father anchored by family
my mother loved as a daughter
we children connected to ancestors
1 qt. skimmed milk
but all those possibilities were skimmed away
like the thick, rich cream
that rises to the top of the morning milking
brought straight to the kitchen from the barn.
4 tablespoons shortening
I made your bread once for Dad,
attempting to shorten the distance
that had formed between us.
It was good, he said, but
about 14 ¼ cups Mother’s Best
not the same as yours.
7 ½ teaspoons salt
It’s not the same as yours,
but this three-rise half-day project
is as close as I’ll ever get
to the flavor of your love,
Grandma Hahn.
© Mary Lee Hahn, 2025
Molly challenged the Inklings to write Hermit Crab poems this month. Think of the form as a poem that climbs into the shell of another kind of writing. A little bit mind-bending at first, but if you find the right “shell,” you’ll be off and writing.
As for the recipe, yes, this is bread I bake every few weeks. I can’t remember the last time we bought bread in a store. And no, I do not bake in that volume! I cut the recipe in half and make two loaves. I use granular yeast, Snowville Creamery whole milk to come close to “skimmed” milk, and I’ve never been able to find Mother’s Best flour, so I make do with King Arthur.
I can’t wait to see what the others came up with this month! Thanks for the great challenge, Molly! Yes, I do realize that this is the second Inkling challenge in a row that has resulted in a bread poem. No, I’m not going for a trifecta, though you just never know…
Here’s what the rest of the Inklings came up with, if life gave them the elbow room this month to write:
Heidi @my juicy little universe
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Margaret @Reflections on the Teche
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Catherine @Reading to the Core
Margaret has the Poetry Friday roundup this week at Reflections on the Teche and this post does double-duty as a Slice of Life post.
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This poem could be subtitled, “You Don’t Know What You’ve Got ‘Til It’s Gone.”
After a childhood spent succumbing to and adapting to the routines imposed upon me, I spent the next huge chunk of my adult life creating classroom routines that attempted to balance the things that HAD TO be done, with the things we WANTED to do. Outside the classroom, adulting brought its own set of non-negotiable routines: laundry, trash day, oil changes, bills. Woven into the mandatory adult routines were the self-imposed ones: exercise, writing, reading. Oh, how I longed for retirement and a lifting of the burden of routines.
Spoiler alert…routines don’t go away when you retire. They change. There might be more wiggle room in the schedule, but the shapes of days and weeks and seasons remain.
Then there is the net of great big routines that seems so distant and inviolable that we forget to pay attention. Our democracy. Social services. The never-ending push towards civil rights. Voting. Representation.
These are the things that were on my mind as I sat down to write my ___is a Word poem. How every day seems the same…which can make me grumble even though I lean into the comfort of knowing that the one time of the day the cat loves me best is morning, when he gets his medicines and treats and grooming; if it’s Sunday, I’ll go swim some laps; if it’s summer, I’ll be looking for black swallowtail caterpillars in the fennel. It’s been almost eight years, but I remember the visceral experience of my every routine shattering the way mom’s arm and hip did when she fell, was life-flighted to Denver, wound up in the ICU, and never recovered. And yet, even within those jumbled-up days, I created what routines I could. Which brings us to now, when the net of great big routines called Life As We Know It In The United States is being demolished and we begin to see response routines emerge. I’m not buying anything today. I’m helping to jam congress’ switchboards with calls using the 5 Calls app. I’m donating every month to ACLU. All very safe and easy to add to my regular routines. I was yesterday years old when I sat for two hours in a community stitching circle and heard passionate volunteers tell about what Food Not Bombs and other mutual aid groups are doing to get good food that is headed for the landfill into the hands of those who need it. Work that is and has been being done to push back against broken systems and make an actual tangible difference in the lives of our neighbors.
It’s time for another change in my routines.
Here’s what the rest of the crew came up with:
Liz @ Liz Garton Scanlon
Tanita @ {fiction, instead of lies}
Laura @ Laura Purdie Salas
Tricia @ The Miss Rumphius Effect
Sara @ Read Write Believe
Denise has this week’s Poetry Friday Roundup at Care to Share.
The image is via Wikimedia.
Just for fun, I chose a poem from the archives! This one was written on this day in 2024 for Laura Shovan’s February Challenge. The theme last year was Games.
Laura has this week’s Poetry Friday Roundup at Laura Purdie Salas.
The image is via Unsplash.
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LOVE AFTER LOVE
by Derek WalcottThe time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved youall your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
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Happy Valentine’s Day! Don’t forget to share the love with YOURSELF!
Linda has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at TeacherDance.
Read more about Derek Walcott and hear his poem read aloud at The Marginalian. Today’s image is from Unsplash.
‘Prize Malted Brown’ by Owen Simmons from The Book of Bread (1903)
It was my turn to offer the challenge to the Inklings. Newly in love with the Public Domain Image Archive, I suggested that each poet plug a color into the search bar and use one of the images as her inspiration. Like Molly and Heidi, I found that searching for more esoteric colors like aubergine gave no results. So I searched “brown” and got this slice of “Prize Malted Brown” and a small poem about baking.
But that last line got me thinking about how baking bread is like writing, which is also “all process” and this draft happened:
So here, on a virtual plate, I offer you not one, but TWO slices today!
Here’s what the rest of the Inklings came up with, if life gave them the elbow room this month to write:
Heidi @my juicy little universe
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Margaret @Reflections on the Teche
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Catherine @Reading to the Core
Carol has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup at Beyond LiteracyLink.
A(nother) Year of Reading 