YOU CAN'T ORDER A POEM

Hello Poetry Friday Friends! Poetry Friday is hosted by Tricia-Stohr-Hunt at The Miss Rumphius Effect  this today. Thank you, Tricia!

Teaching Authors’ topic this round is “favorite historical fiction or nonfiction related to American history.” 

Esther starts us out with Those Red, White, and Blue oldies but goodies!

Carmela Martino is Recommending a new novel for America 250

Zeena asks, Who Writes History?

Bobbi writes about how All History is a Story

Mary Ann addressed The Dark Side of Historical Fiction

I was hoping I could write about a book I’ve read this year for NCTE's Poetry Awards Committee. But it can’t be one of this year’s books, as we’re not allowed to post about books we’re currently judging until the awards have been announced at the conference in Philadelphia this November (which will be my 3rd and last year on this committee)

Note: neither of the two books below are in print, so they're not listed on BookShop.org, and I refuse to link them to the big A, so I've linked them to AbeBooks.com

I tried writing two posts...one was about the powerful influence the book THE GREAT PEACE MARCH  by Franklin Folsom and Connie Fledderjohann had on me.

The other was about the huge influence this book had on America and on me, personally: SUGAR BLUES by William Dufty .

I tried, folks...I really did. But in the end, nothing came together. 

Why? Because I've raised all 12 of my hands and am over committed, doing too much for the upcoming election and other causes, because, to be honest, I want people to like me. (Please raise your hand if you can relate.)

Image by Παῦλος from Pixabay

Last night I listened to a gentle, calming mediation on the free Insight Timer app: https://insig.ht/7tL1nMyCC6b  called "You Don't Have To Be Strong" taught by Tairo Mundawarara.

At the end, he suggests thanking your furrowed brow, your tight shoulders, and your clenched jaw. 

When I did, I relaxed…and realized that if I just posted a poem, that would be enough.

YOU CAN’T ORDER A POEM!
by April Halprin Wayland
 
I’m standing above it,
pointing right at it,
determined to pry this
stubborn little poem loose
from its cardboard carton…
but it’s no use.
 
“OUT!” I shout
but it grips the sides,
squinching its eyes,
this sour, dour,
fierce little thing
disappears down the box.
 
I sigh.
Close my eyes.
Then I step in.
The little thing is shivering. 
I gingerly offer a memory—
a play dough morning when I was three.
 
The poem smells it warily
then slowly shuffles next to me.
 
I hold it,
rock it,
warm it.
We sit,
just sit.
 
Then,
in time,
I rise
and slowly lead
this trembling poem
 
out of the box.
poem (c) 2026 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved.

We all have too much to read, get too many emails, struggle under the weight of too many TO DOs...so thank you very much for reading this post!

Posted with love and hot air balloon-filled hopes,

April
If you're on Instagram, my handle is @aprilwayland

Written with help from our very licky dog, Sadie...

#personification #overcommitted #hope #writingpoetry #TeachingAuthors #Ilovehashtags

1 WORD FOR 2023

Howdy from California, Campers ~

Soggy California! Sorry about the drips on this page (I'm in Southern CA and we're fine, thank you).

And Happy New Year and Happy Poetry Friday to all! (The links to Poetry Friday, my poem, and my upcoming class are all below.)

Our theme for this round is Moving Forward in the New Year. We began with Esther's enticing review of the book, THE stories BEHIND THE stories (read her review here and enter to win it in our first BOOK GIVEAWAY in this fresh new year). 

I'm up next.

In the 13 years I've been privileged to be part of TeachingAuthors, I've learned rain barrels-full about writing, teaching, poetry, and friendship from my fellow TeachingAuthors, from many of you, and from the Kidlitosphere and Poetry Friday communities.

One thing I've learned is that many of you move forward by choosing a word for the year.

So I tried it. Sometimes I'd choose a word and then discard it because it didn't seem to move me forward. But one year the magic happened. That was the year I chose the word CAPABLE.

I chose it because the nasty noises in my brain continually convinced me that I was never going to be capable of doing whatever it was I was doing. 

That word set me on the road to discovering I was, indeed, capable.

                                drawing (c)2023 by April Halprin Wayland

Good old CAPABLE. We're still very close. 

Usually, instead of choosing a word for the year,  I choose a word for the day. The book I read each night has one page for each day of the year. The page begins with a quotation, followed by a paragraph expanding on the quote, and then a gentle resolution for the day.

For example, one recent quotation was: "Competitions are for horses, not artists." ~ Bela Bartok

The words from that reading that resonated in me were: "People who have developed the art of living...are as respectful of their own values and opinions as those of others." (underlining is mine)

Every night I read a page and every morning I forget what that page was about.

So I decided to condense the whole page into one or two words. In this case, my word for the next day may have been "self-respect." And guess what happened when I woke up the next day? 

Nada. Nothing. 

Even if I created a visual for my word--for "self-respect" (which might be someone looking in a mirror and liking what she saw) even then, I still couldn't remember what I'd read. 

Finally, I decided to write that word on the top of my foot each night. In the morning, before I sat up, I'd challenge myself to remember the word, and sometimes I could. But if I couldn't, I'd lift my leg and read my foot. 

 

I write my word on the TOP of one foot. I do NOT draw faces on my toes. But, boy, it sure looks like fun...maybe I'll try it. (photo: Pixabay)

All day long my word walks with me. And if I feel scrambled, I'll stop and focus: what's my word? I rarely need to take off my shoe to remember it. 

Here's the draft of a poem I wrote about it:

IN INK 

by April Halprin Wayland

I write the word I'd like to think

on the top of my foot each day in ink.

 

Absurd, absurd, some friends may say,

to walk with that ink on her foot all day!

 

How odd, so odd, some will assert,

to write on one's foot—imagine the dirt!

 

You know what I mostly wish from this?

to tune out the voices and follow my bliss.

          poem © 2023 April Halprin Wayland. 

(That last stanza is super corny, but that's what I've got for you today ~ says this recovering perfectionist)

As this new year rolled around, I thought I'd try a word for the whole year again. I sifted through many. The word that felt exactly right is SIMPLIFY.

It's already working its magic: each time I'm overwhelmed by too many emails, too many TO DOs, too much noise, I think: SIMPLIFY. A calm washes over me. I focus.  And guess what? In simplifying the tasks I take on, I've begun writing a picture book I'm totally in love with!💗

I haven't felt this excited about writing in a long, long time. 

What's YOUR word for today or for the year? I'd love to read it in your comments.😊

And hey, Campers ~ my one day, three-hour Introduction to Writing Children's Poetry will be held again on January 28 from noon to 3pm PST. We read a variety of poems and have time to write our own. Come join the fun! It's offered through the UCLA Extension Writers' Program. 

Thank you for hosting Poetry Friday, Marcie!

posted by April Halprin Wayland, with help from Monkey and Eli, posing with one of their favorite, very old poetry books.

5 Pandemic Poems Just For You

 Howdy, Campers and happy Poetry Friday! (the PF host link is below)

The topic this round, which Esther suggested in late June, was Writing (Or Teaching)-Related Activities We’re Getting Back To As Things Open Again.

So far, four TeachingAuthors have created terrific posts on this topic, and already the sands have shifted.Esther's (July 16th) is euphoric (including an empty frame in which she expected to post of photo of Carmela, Esther and me at a Chicago restaurant), Zeena's (July 23rd) is about her new committment as a teacher of 4- and 5-year-olds (it includes a video of Zeena book talking picture books);  Bobbi's (July 30th) is hope-filled--with a terrific resources list!), Mary Ann's (August 6th) is wonderfully written as always. But hope?...not so much. 

And me? I'm grumpy today.

Me, slaying the topic we'd hoped to write about

The last few months in our house have been overshadowed by STUFF. Towards the end of April, zombies from the apocalyspe stopped by to chomp on my foot. (The medical diagnosis was staph infection, but I know it was zombies.)

Which meant I couldn't hike. Or run. Or walk. Or go to a wedding in Chicago and have lunch in person with Esther and Carmela. My pup Eli was also casuality: he couldn't hike or run or walk without me. 

Our muscles melted.

After umpteen weeks of varying antibiotics, my doctors found one that worked and I got better...

...just in time to drive my very sick husband to the ER. He was admitted to the hospital; it was scary. Now he's home. We're lucky. He'll be okay. 

Whew. 

Okay, I just thought of something that's hopeful: Like so many wonderful writers in the Poetry Friday community, I never stop writing a poem a day. (Yesterday ~ even on a very grumpy day ~ I wrote my 4,141st poem in a row)

And so I offer you five pandemic poems and the inspiration behind each, for your entertainment:

1. March 27, 2020

TEXTING IN THESE STRANGE TIMES ~ a found poem 
by April Halprin Wayland

APRIL:
Hey, Tom! Are you up for a walk tomorrow?

If I met you at your house

and we drove separately

and stayed six feet apart?

And how about a third person,

Joyce? Would that be too much?

 (I would ask her to drive separately

and meet us at your house also.)

TOM:
Okay strange times.

Put this exchange in a time capsule.

===================
Inspiration: This is a word for word text conversation with my friend Tom. We ultimately didn't walk...times had changed by the time Tom read my text. (At least an hour had gone by.)
=====================
2. April 4, 2020

LOVING MAMA-MADE MASK ~ a semi-found poem
by April Halprin Wayland

Waves of

hand marbled fabric:

 

three layers, mostly cotton—

reusable, washable,

 

to brighten your day.

Line dry.

 

The scare will pass.

And we'll all have masks.
=================
Inspiration: My friend Tom in the first poem has a wife named JoAnn who mailed us two beautiful masks with a note. I gleaned it for words around which to form a poem.  I did add words, though, so technically it's not a Found Poem.

================
3. May 9, 2020

ZOOM ~ in four words 
by April Halprin Wayland

Drapes drawn

pearls on
=================
Inspiration: When I started Zooming, the only place in our house with appropriate lighting was a tiny corner of my office in front of a bookshelf, with the drapes drawn, a floor lamp on one side and the overhead light on. Also, of course pearls!
================

4. May 21, 2020 

POEM-MAKING
(previously published in this post, its title is from the book of the same name by Myra Cohn Livingston)
by April Halprin Wayland

It's a kind of art—

lit by air

and light. Kept in a vault,

 

it can only chase it's own tail.

So blow on it, gently—this is vital.

It's yours; invent your own ritual.
=================================
Inspiration:

That day I wanted to write an In One Word Poem. I choose a word that had become tiresome: VIRTUAL.

Below are the 18 words I decided to play with from the 65 words offered by Wordmaker. I used the six of these:  it, lit, air, art, rut, rail, tail, liar, vial, vail, rival, trial, vault, viral, vital, trail, ultra, ritual

One of the wonders of this form is that I can take a word that makes me sick and come up with a poem that's kind. Or glowing.
================
5. July 19, 2021

TIP  
by April Halprin Wayland

Hey, little girl,

let the day unfurl

like a light-weight blanket.

At the close of day,

be sure

and thank it.
=====================
Inspiration: I believe I heard the words "let the day unfurl" in a morning meditation on Insight Timer
====================
poems © 2021 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved

So. 

I've inadvertently ended on a note of hope. Oh, well. I tried to stay grumpy. You've gotta give me points for that.

One more thing: if you know anyone who's interested in taking my 10-week course, Picture Book 1 through the UCLA Extension Writers' Program, please tell them to sign up now...this class is limited to 15 students.

Thank you for stopping by today, Campers!

Many thanks to Christie for hosting this week's PF
at Wondering and Wandering

posted with a teeny tiny bit of hope and a bushel of love by April Halprin Wayland while Eli rests on top of his two favorite toys (the blue one is our kitty's)

The Best Poetry Tip Lee Bennett Hopkins Ever Taught Me

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Howdy, Campers, and Happy Poetry Friday! (my poem and the PF link are below)

Perhaps some of you really ARE camping right this very minute! Boy, that sure sounds good now: aromatic pines, refreshing dips in a clear lake, scent of wood smoke and that close-your-eyes crackling as you gather 'round to roast marshmallows and sing...ahhhhh.

This round, TeachingAuthors will each share a favorite piece of  writing advice.

Mine came from Lee Bennett Hopkins, who told me: 

Root out all unnecessary "the"s.

It's such a simple idea, yet it can change a poem profoundly.

Or at least clean it up.

(In the paragraph describing your camp-out above, I deleted four "the"s.)

THE

by April Halprin Wayland

It's a simple word, really,

but wait...do you need it?

Watch deer tug a tree

for a banquet of greens...

he steers clear of each "the,"

but devours those leaves.

poem © 2020 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved

Or, as Laura Shovan just shared so succinctly in the comments below, "every word must earn its place in a poem."

So try Lee's tip...and then report back and tell me about it--I can't wait to hear!

Thank you, Ruth, for hosting a Poetry Friday party at 

There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town

posted with love by April Halprin Wayland and Eli, who is tuckered out after this morning's walk:

you can see Eli in the distance

writing poetry can be exhausting!

Trimerics: back to the familiar and into the unknown

.
Howdy, Campers!  Happy Poetry Friday (PF link & my poem are below)

First of all, we at TeachingAuthors hope you're getting some solid sleep, walking a dog, connecting with those you hold dear, and finding a little island of peace in this brave new world. We appreciate each of you very much.💓

This is our final post on how we're taking leaps in our career or our writing during this leap year, beginning with Bobbi's terrific Taking Leaps in Historical Fiction. (Lately, going to the grocery store feels like a leap of faith, doesn't it?)

But before we get started, a brief detour. The Jewish holiday of Passover in 2020 begins at sundown on Wednesday, April 8, and ends Thursday evening, April 16. The first Passover seder is on the evening of April 8. Here's how to celebrate Passover online, posted on the blog ReformJudaism.org, and here's an article on how those in Staten Island are (or are not) celebrating Passover in this strange time (Orthodox Jews cannot celebrate online).

So the other day I got a lovely email from Alysse Rich, the Principal of the Children’s Jewish Studies Program in Toronto Canada's Danforth Jewish Circle. If you have 10 minutes, enjoy watching Alysse (and little Arthur) reading and singing my Passover picture book, MORE THAN ENOUGH, (cheerfully illustrated by Katie Kath) to her school. (Alysse plays a mean guitar player and has a lovely voice.)

Okay ~ now let's get back to our regularly scheduled program: the leaps each of us has taken or hopes to take.

Today I encourage you to take a leap: try a poetic form that's new to you. And since I've fallen in love (again) with trimerics, why don't you try writing one? 

In June 2011, I posted about falling in love with trimeric poems for the first time. Here's a good definition from http://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/trimeric/: Trimeric \tri-(meh)-rik\ n: a four stanza poem in which the first stanza has four lines and the last three stanzas have three lines each, with the first line of each repeating the respective line of the first stanza.  The sequence of lines, then, is abcd, b – -, c – -, d – -. 

My love for trimerics faded, but now I love being back in the arms of this form. In fact, trimerics have become my escape from pandemic pandemonium (and emails!  Is everyone drowning in helpful or alarming or helpfully alarming emails?!?).

Why do I love trimerics? Because all I need is a first line. That line takes my hand and leads me to places I've never known. Each new poem pushes me to leap into the unknown.

drawing (c)2020 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved.

Here, for your reading pleasure, are three trimerics.

In TENDER, the first line walked onto my page, unattached to any idea. It grew into a poem about my son when he was a young teen.

TENDER
by April Halprin Wayland

He's a slip of a boy, really.

Tender as a slim green shoot

just angling out of earth.

But there are other ways in him.

Tender as a slim green shoot,

he also bristles into cactus,

a dragnet of needles—watch out!

Just angling out of earth,

he can still be caught (wear gloves!)

He can still be taught to breathe gently.

But there are other ways in him

beyond tender, beyond thistly.

Walk into his rooms. Switch on each light.

==============================

I have NO idea where this one came from:

CHANGE OF PLANS
by April Halprin Wayland

"One more thing," she said quietly,

not wanting to interrupt him.

He looked up from the last chapter.

He had been reading a murder mystery.

Not wanting to interrupt him

was her mantra, her world view, her Golden Rule...

until Aunt Blanche had that talk with her.

He looked up from the last chapter

and saw that she was aiming a blow torch

at his lap.

He had been reading a murder mystery.

He was dying to know how it ended.

He didn't know that she had been reading it, too.

==================================

And this one I wrote today. Once again it started with the title.

FRIGHTENED? ME?

by April Halprin Wayland

When I was little,

my mom used to say,

"Every bad dream is a story you tell yourself."

She would rock me to sleep.

My mom used to say,

"Dark things that shake you awake
will be gone in the morning."

"Every bad dream is a story you tell yourself,"

she'd murmur, rocking.

I loved her warm flower smell.

She would rock me to sleep.
She can't anymore.

I've learned: now I tell myself a different story.
=================================

all poems (c)2020 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved.

If you DO find yourself fiddling with trimerics when taking a break from sewing face masks (which, even if they're just bandanas, are apparently great if you want to keep yourself from touching your face 90 times a day), please share them with me ~ I'd love to read what you came up with!

Thank you, Tabatha, for hosting Poetry Friday
at The Opposite of Indifference

posted in good health from a respectful distance by April Halprin Wayland

WWW: How to Write a Superlative Mask Poem Even Lincoln Would Be Proud Of

     Feast your eyes on today’s WWW creator Eileen Meyer (left) celebrating the launch of her newest book with fellow TeachingAuthor Carmela Martino (right) at Anderson’s Bookshop in Downers Grove, Illinois last week.

     There’s no hiding the fact or masking the truth.  Eileen’s THE SUPERLATIVE A. LINCOLN – POEMS ABOUT OUR 16TH PRESIDENT (Charlesbridge) is garnering superlative reviews.

     School Library Journal writes: “An excellent use of language and recognizable rhyme schemes make this title a wonderful teaching tool for the classroom. These well-researched poems hold readers’ attention and could encourage them to explore additional questions. ¬VERDICT A good example of how poetry can also inform. Highly recommended for elementary schools and public libraries.”

     Kirkus Review offers: “Telling Abraham Lincoln's story in poetry is a tall order, but Meyer pulls it off. 'Come read about a legend— / the greatest of the greats; / from a poor boy in the backwoods / to a president, first-rate.' The title of each celebratory poem offers a yearbook-style superlative about our 16th president: 'Best Wrestler,'  'Best Lumberjack,' 'Who's Tallest?' Each poem is accompanied by a brief paragraph providing context for the poem. The collection will make excellent reading aloud in the classroom, a few a day. A tip of the stovepipe hat for making a poetry biography so much fun.”

   Lucky us!  That above-mentioned stovepipe hat of Mr. Lincoln’s and the mask poem Eileen wrote about it happen to be the stuff of today’s Wednesday Writing Workout.

   And truly, lucky me.  I’ve watched Eileen grow as a picture book writer. publishing first WHO’S FASTER? ANIMALS ON THE MOVE (Mountain Press), then BALLPARK (Two Lions) and SWEET DREAMS, WILD ANIMALS: A STORY OF SLEEP (Mountain Press).  Her poetry has appeared in numerous children’s magazines.

      FYI: THE SUPERLATIVE A. LINCOLN is beautifully illustrated by David Szalay.  Each and every perfectly-crafted kid friendly poem offers a surprising glimpse into an American Hero most of us are mistakenly certain we know fully and is accompanied by an historical footnote.  Think: Distracted Farmer, Best Lumberjack, Least Favorite Nickname, Best Wrestler.  The book’s back matter offers a personal Author’s Note, a timeline of Abraham Lincoln’s life, resources for young Lincoln fans and an opportunity for readers to determine their superlative qualities and/or behaviors.

  

     Scroll down to Eileen’s WWW to learn how to write a superlative mask poem even Lincoln would be proud of, making sure you read to the end.
 
     Thank you, Eileen, for teaching us this poetic form.  And here's to your most successful book yet!
   
     Happiest Poet-ing Ever!

     Esther Hershenhorn

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

WRITING MASK POEMS

Have you ever wanted to let an object have its say? Or perhaps share the perspective and unique voice of a creature by writing from its point of view? If you’ve harbored any of these thoughts, writing a MASK POEM might be right up your alley. (Note: this exercise is addressed to writers, but teachers may utilize the same exercise in the classroom.)

Mask poems are defined as “a first-person observation, description, or opinion as told by an object or creature” according to the handbook from my first poetry teacher and fellow children’s author, Heidi Bee Roemer.  We just celebrated Halloween a few weeks ago—think of yourself wearing a mask: you are pretending to be something or someone else. Keep that idea in mind as you try your hand at drafting a mask poem.

In my just-released picture book, THE SUPERLATIVE A. LINCOLN: POEMS ABOUT OUR 16TH PRESIDENT, I had a lot of fun writing a mask poem from the point of view Lincoln’s iconic stovepipe hat. Why don’t you choose an object or creature for your mask poem?

Once I chose my subject, I began to think about what the stovepipe hat had to say . . . what was on its mind? I first thought about the hat’s functionality. Many people are not aware that Lincoln’s stovepipe hat served many purposes:

• Lincoln used the interior of his hat to carry important letters, notes, and correspondence tucked into the band. (This habit harkens back to his New Salem days as postmaster when Lincoln took it upon himself to deliver mail to residents who hadn’t picked up mail at the post office.)
• At times, Lincoln used the hat’s flat top as a writing surface.
• And of course, our 16th president’s hat also protected him from inclement weather.

All in all, Lincoln’s stovepipe hat was a pretty handy accessory. But had it ever been recognized as such? What is distinctive about your object or creature? Make a list.

I decided to take the approach that the stovepipe hat was a bit put-off by other carrying devices, such as briefcases or knapsacks (devices that did exist in the mid 1800’s so I was historically accurate), because the hat could handle the function of transporting key documents by itself. That realization also gave me my tone for the poem. It was my “Aha!” moment … the hat was going to be a bit sassy. Frankly, Lincoln’s stovepipe hat had been feeling underestimated and underappreciated for well over a century— and the hat was finally going to have its due!
Now that you’ve made a list about your object or creature’s distinctive qualities or attributes, are there any clues to the message of your poem? And the tone?

The poem I wrote became one of my favorites in the collection. . . but before I share the poem, let me tell you a bit more about the book to provide better context. This will also shed light on the poem’s title.

This picture book celebrates superlatives, which most kids find fascinating. Young readers enjoy learning about who is the tallest, the first at something, or the best at accomplishing a particular milestone. Each story is told through poetry—there are nineteen poems in this 48-page picture book. For example, readers learn why Lincoln was the “Most Distracted Farmer” when he was a young man, that he was known as the “Best Wrestler” in the county, and had the “Most Surprising Friendship” with another famous icon.

Since this poem was about the stovepipe hat, but needed to be titled as a superlative – I came up with this: “Best Use of an Accessory” with a subtitle “Lincoln’s Stovepipe Hat Speaks Out.” With that poem title I was able to achieve a number of things—utilize a superlative form (“best use”) and identify the speaker (Lincoln’s stovepipe hat.) Additionally, the title says that the hat “speaks out”; phrasing that grabs the reader’s attention by stating that this usually silent hat has something important to say. Is there a title that comes to mind for your Mask Poem? (If you can’t think of one, don’t worry. Sometimes it’s easier to come up with a good title once the poem has been written.)

I created a word bank on my yellow pad and brainstormed words related to stovepipe hats, briefcases, and descriptors for how Lincoln used the hat. I used a simple rhyme scheme (ABCB) and wrote a first draft. Create a word bank list. Choose a rhyme scheme for your poem. Try your hand at a first draft.

After many revisions and input from the talented writers in my critique groups, VOILA, here is the finished poem:

MESSY,PERPLEXING POETRY--ONE GAL'S JOURNEY

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Howdy, Campers ~ and Happy Poetry Friday! (PF link at the end)

The topic of this round is MESSY MIDDLES,  talking about what happens if the middle of a novel is sagging or the middle of another project just isn't working, etc. 

I can't offer much advice or examples of this except to say that I'm always in the middle of quiet terror. Can anyone relate?

So...let's talk about the messiness of writing a poem.

Here's how this poem evolved...in four steps (I've left out many of the middle attempts):

1. Looking for an idea. 

I started with a first line: I am musing about music.

(UNTITLED)

by April Halprin Wayland

I am musing about music.

I am lost.

I cannot find my feet.

They are sinking in sand.

There is no topic.

There is not bottompic.

There is just sinking

no thinking

no help

no hope

no nothing

until a little bird.

Just a word.

Just a chirpy word.

One chirpy word.

I look up

from this hole

from sand in my hair

sand on my cheeks

sand on my hands

sand from the beach

sand into next week

at a sandpiper

at her slender needle beak

I wait for her to speak.

another chirpy word

which I find thrilling

I'm twirling in this hole

a sort of reverse drilling

I'm spinning out this hole

scattering the sand

spraying it

playing it

abyss

this poem sucks

================

2. Research. 

I looked up the word music:

From Greek mousikē, any art presided over by the Muses

Read more: http://wiki.answers.com/Q/What_is_the_origin_of_the_word_'music'#ixzz1G3YuxcOS

The word music comes from the Greek mousikê (tekhnê) by way of the Latin musica. It is ultimately derived from mousa, the Greek word for muse. In ancient Greece, the word mousike was used to mean any of the arts or sciences governed by the Muses. Later, in Rome, ars musica embraced poetry as well as instrument-oriented music. Read more:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Definition_of_music

...and wrote this:

This is a mushroom

This is my brain.

This fat white bumpershoot

Amusing

music.

I am the piano

I am the violin

I am a stupid poem

==============

3. What's at the heart of this idea? 

drawing by April Halprin Wayland

I broke away from everything above and thought about what I was feeling inside:

(UNTITLED)
by April Halprin Wayland 

Today I know

how that boy at the back desk feels

when his teacher tells him to write a poem.

He blinks blankly.

He isn't writing while all around him pencils fly.

He scratches his left eye

A storm cloud brews about his head.

His brows grow knotty.

When all around him ideas sprout

this boy at the back

is locked out.

==============

I rewrote it and sent it off to my friend Bruce, who has been sailing around the world with his wife for over 13 years. Regular readers know that he and I send each other a poem a day. We've been doing it since April 2010.

=================

4. Let let it cook. 

That was in March 2011. Today I searched my poems tagged WRITERS' BLOCK, found this poem (which has been cooking for quite awhile), and took another stab at it:

THE BOY IN THE BACK
by April Halprin Wayland

While all around him ideas begin,

he picks the scab on his freckled chin.

While all around him pencils fly,

his brows grow knotty, mystified.

While all around him windows open,

He closes his eyes hoping, hoping.

Ideas take root and poems sprout,

but the boy in the back?

That boy's locked out.

===============

Rewrites count as a day's poem in our rule book, so I'm sending this one off.

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Thanks to Tabatha for hosting this week's Poetry Friday at The Opposite of Indifference!

posted by April Halprin Wayland with lots of love and the help of (in order of appearance) Gin, Eli, and Penny...who are sacked out after helping to edit this: