Irene Latham's Blog, page 49

ARTSPEAK: Happy! poem "Girl in a Yellow Dress"

Happy  National Poetry Month! I'm excited to be continuing my ARTSPEAK series -- this year with poems on the theme of "Happy." Read why in my introductory post.

Today's piece is "A Girl in a Yellow Dress, 1917" by Amedeo Modigliani.

I am no stranger to girls in yellow dresses... one in particular has made me happy for years: Etta Mae Pettway, a supporting character in LEAVING GEE'S BEND. There's a chapter in the book called "Girl in the Yellow Dress," and on my 2019-to-do list is to research Mobile, Alabama 1930-32 history to write a companion novel from Etta Mae's point of view. So there's that!

Interestingly, I don't think I've ever worn a yellow dress, because I've never thought yellow to complement my skin tone. Hmmm...

Anyhow, this poem came to me quickly and easily... because whether I wear the yellow dress or not, I AM this girl. Enjoy!



Girl in a Yellow Dressafter A Girl in a Yellow Dress by Amedeo Modigliani.Sometimes I sit and stareand you think I'm not going anywhere.

But in that moment,that tiny, precise moment

my heart is dreaming,mind-movies are streaming –

sailboats and pelicans are nestingin my hair!

Truth is, I'm always smiling – somewhere.

- Irene Latham





Please be sure to stop by Radio, Rhythm and Rhyme to read Matt's opening line in this year's Progressive Poem! Yay!

Announcing my 2019 National Poetry Month ARTSPEAK! theme

Hello and Happy last Poetry Friday of March! Be sure to visit Carol at Carol's Corner for Roundup.

I'm excited today to share about my 2019 National Poetry Month poem-a-day project ARTSPEAK!, now in its 5th year! Each year I dedicate the month of April to writing poems inspired by art. (Which means I'll be pressing "pause" on my Butterfly Hours Memoir Project during this month. I'll pick up in May with the next prompt, which is "gloves.")

The first year (2015) I didn't really have a theme, except ARTSPEAK!, in which my goal was (and continues to be!) to listen to what the art was trying to say... and these were all persona poems. I chose pieces exclusively from the National Gallery of Art online collection, with a particular focus on pieces with kid appeal.

2016 I wrote poems inspired by one of my new (at the time) books: FRESH DELICIOUS: Poems from the Farmers' Market. I called it ARTSPEAK: Plant. Grow. Eat!

2017 I focused on people and animals -- ARTSPEAK: Portraits

2018 I continued my art education -- and added diversity (the NGA collection is woefully not representative of many cultures/ethnicities) -- with ARTSPEAK: Harlem Renaissance

And this year, I am throwing everything I've got into my 2019 One Little Word. I give you.... ARTSPEAK: Happy!

This has its roots in a letter I received from a student. Here's my tweet about it:


Kind of a wake up call, isn't it?

I searched for art not just at NGA, but Google Arts & Culture and also WikiArt. I am loving the pieces I discovered! I hope you will, too. As always, I invite you to join along, if you're feeling artsy. :)

To get the happy juices flowing, I decided to write a poem inspired by the art I selected for my badge... and including some of my goals for this series:


Give Me a Happy Poemafter "The Sky Was Yellow" by Enrico Baj

Give me a happy poema burn-away-the-blues poem –
where words sizzle,stanzas dance.
Make me giggle,make me gasp!
Show me a world that radiates heat,ignites hope
even on the darkest <!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } </style> </div>--> <br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">                                night.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>- Irene Latham</i></div>...and here is a video! Yes, for the first time I am sharing these via video instead of just audio. Eep! I'll be learning and (hopefully) improving all month long. :)<br /><br />  <iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cGtVZAb..." width="560"></iframe><br /> I look forward to all the goodness from all of you... and of course I'm excited to see where our Progressive Poem will lead us! We'll get started on Monday over at<a href="https://mattforrest.wordpress.com/&qu... Matt's place</a>. Yay! <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HeuqRexgk-..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="672" height="228" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HeuqRexgk-..." width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><br />

The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: GARDEN

For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in THE BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.

I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead? In January I wrote about: apron, bar, basketball, bed, bicycle, birthday, boat, broom, button, cake, car.

In February: chair, chlorine, church, concert, cookbook, couch, dancing, desk, dessert, dining room table, diploma.

Here are March's prompts: divorce, door, dream, emergency room, envelope, eyebrows, first apartment, first job, food, game, garden.

*I'll be taking a break from this project during April, so I can focus on my 2019 National Poetry Month poem-a-day project: ARTSPEAK! Happy.
GARDEN
First, I should mention that I wrote a whole book inspired by my grandparents' garden -- FRESH DELICIOUS: Poems from the Farmers' Market.
And I wrote a whole cycle of poems in 2016 -- ARTSPEAK! Plant. Grow. Eat! So gardens have come up in my writing quite a lot.
 My parents subscribed to Mother Earth News and made attempts at self-sustainability while we were young. This included beef cows, pigs, rabbits for food -- and the subject of some awful can't-shake images; dairy cows for milk; vegetable garden for produce. 
So yes, there were gardens. But it was my grandparents' garden that grows green in my memory. They lived in Port St. Joe where the soil isn't so much soil as sand. It's hard to grow anything there without a lot of water, fertilizer and man-hours spent weeding. Granddaddy and Grandma didn't mind. Or if they did, they just put their heads down and did what needed done. 
I have quite a few pictures of Granddaddy standing in front of various crops. He loved to grow Silver Queen corn and Better Boy tomatoes. He also loved yellow-meated watermelons. Many afternoons I'd sit with Grandma on the concrete back porch steps, her with a giant stainless steel bowl of peas for us to shell or beans for us to snap. Her fingers were long and thin, like mine... and knobby and wrinkly-soft-- not like mine at all. She was gentle with the vegetables, in the way we are all gentle with things we've helped create. She didn't take a single bean for granted. Thanks to her Depression-era childhood, every single one was important. There were no throw-aways.
my kind of garden -
the kind that plants &
 tends itself!My mother has given over vegetable gardening for flowers. She loves roses best of all and beams when the roses are flourishing and is bothered when they are not. She says gardening is good for her soul – she loves the dirt, the sweat, the work of bringing something up and making the world more beautiful. Meanwhile, I appreciate a garden, but don't want to put in the hours to make it happen. I don't enjoy the heat or the sweat or the dirt under my nails. So I opt for low-care, native species in my own yard and marvel over the efforts of others.
I have been thinking lately that I want to create a fern glade in my shady back yard... and also a small chapel built into the slope overlooking the lake. AND... I want to hire someone to create a mural on the side of the RV shed. Flowers, maybe? Or a landscape of misty mountains? A farm scene? I'm not sure yet. Thinking...

The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: GAME

<!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } </style> <br />For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Butterfly-Hour... BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.</a><br /><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;">I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZ9pEXdr8h..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="231" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZ9pEXdr8h..." width="266" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;">In January I wrote about: <i>apron, bar, basketball, bed, bicycle, birthday, boat, broom, button, cake, car.</i><br /><i><br /></i>In February: <i>chair, chlorine, church, concert, cookbook, couch, dancing, desk, dessert, dining room table, diploma.</i><br /><i><br /></i></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #545454; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here are March's prompts: </span><i style="color: #545454; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">divorce, door, dream, emergency room, envelope, eyebrows, first apartment, first job, food, game, garden.</i></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"></div></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>GAME</b></span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />I've written about gaming before... my middle son Andrew is quite the gamer. Here's a poem <a href="https://irenelatham.blogspot.com/2018... Love of the Game.</a><br /><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UzQkuZfpM-..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UzQkuZfpM-..." width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Dykes family<br />Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, 1975</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">My earliest memories include play time with Saudi children when we lived in a Saudi neighborhood in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. We couldn't speak the same language, but we could play games: hopscotch, chase, marbles, goats. (Goats were everywhere! We loved scaring them off the tops of the cars, just to see them leap onto the street, where the fine, red dust would puff up in clouds.) </span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">When you grow up in a big family – esp. a family who moves a lot -- your siblings become your primary playmates. We played Candyland and Sorry, Battleship and Monopoly. Later, as a teen, I loved Pictionary and Trivial Pursuit. Our card games were pretty elementary – Go Fish and War. </span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-enGgMsEbZd..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-enGgMsEbZd..." width="213" /></a></div><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">Our favorite games were outdoors: my brother Ken and I had many a contest: who can swing the highest, who can swim across the pond the fastest. Lynn and MicaJon and I were constantly inventing games and pretend worlds. The pasture across the street from us at our Folsom, LA house we named “Egypt,” after watching THE TEN COMMANDMENTS many, many times. One of the huge oaks was Nefertiri and the other was Rameses. We'd ride our ponies over there across the Nile (a creek) and “play” Egypt. At the Burns Lane house in Birmingham, we hosted our own backyard Olympics. We have all the events we could possible create, including a synchronized swimming event featuring me and Lynn. We created and awarded medals.</span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">One not-so-happy game memory: playing Bingo with Grandma Oslund and my brother Ken and my grandparents home in the retirement community of Sun City, FL. We had one of those sets with the <a href="https://www.maxiaids.com/deluxe-bingo... wire cage</a> that you'd crank to spin, and then pull a number. I had been the “caller” for several rounds, and Grandma said it was time for Ken to have a turn. I didn't like that idea – I wanted to be the caller every time. When I refused, Grandma called me a “snotty little girl.” It hurt my feelings so much that I ran away from the game and cried in my room. Grandma had every right to be frustrated with me... but she could be sharp-tongued and hurtful. I've carried those words with me for many years.</span></span></span></div><br />

The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: FOOD

<!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } </style> <br />For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Butterfly-Hour... BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.</a><br /><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;">I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZ9pEXdr8h..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="231" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZ9pEXdr8h..." width="266" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;">In January I wrote about: <i>apron, bar, basketball, bed, bicycle, birthday, boat, broom, button, cake, car.</i><br /><i><br /></i>In February: <i>chair, chlorine, church, concert, cookbook, couch, dancing, desk, dessert, dining room table, diploma.</i><br /><i><br /></i></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #545454; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here are March's prompts: </span><i style="color: #545454; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">divorce, door, dream, emergency room, envelope, eyebrows, first apartment, first job, food, game, garden.</i></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><b><br /></b></div><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>FOOD</b></span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">I grew up with an obese father and a mother who was perpetually on a diet. My mother was also perpetually unhappy with my father's obesity. So, food – weight – has often been a focus in my life. It meant my father was not one of those active fathers... I remember Grandma Dykes saying “Kenny never did like exercise.” (Kenny was my father. ) “Kenny” also loved a big meal, preferably a meat-n-potato meal. He loved his steak medium rare. He also got offended if a server questioned his preferences. </span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--vzw8tl-WV..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--vzw8tl-WV..." width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/b8jHMJOzs..." style="background-color: whitesmoke; box-sizing: border-box; color: #999999; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "San Francisco", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Ubuntu, Roboto, Noto, "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start; text-decoration-skip-ink: auto; transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out 0s, opacity 0.2s ease-in-out 0s; white-space: nowrap;">Pedro Ribeiro</a><span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #111111; font-family: , , "san francisco" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "ubuntu" , "roboto" , "noto" , "segoe ui" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: nowrap;"> on </span><a href="https://unsplash.com/search/photos/ke..." style="background-color: whitesmoke; box-sizing: border-box; color: #999999; font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, "San Francisco", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Ubuntu, Roboto, Noto, "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start; text-decoration-skip-ink: auto; transition: color 0.2s ease-in-out 0s, opacity 0.2s ease-in-out 0s; white-space: nowrap;">Unsplash</a></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">One time at a restaurant when he asked for ketchup, the server said, “you don't need ketchup with this steak.” My father was like, “don't you know sometimes I order a steak just to eat ketchup?” </span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">He was funny. </span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">He was also a snacker. I remember riding in his car as a teen and noticing (for the first time) all the snack wrappers – candy bars and pork rinds and coke cans. </span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">One time he decided to diet, and he lost 100 pounds using SlimFast. It was weird, him being so small – I remember thinking he wasn't my cuddly Papa-bear anymore. It wasn't long before he gained it all back. </span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">All this focus on weight – whether direct or indirect – made me hyper-conscious about weight and healthy. For many years I weighed myself every day, just to be sure I wasn't slipping. I no longer subject myself to that kind of intense scrutiny, but I still have body image issues that I know are linked to this family history. </span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">One of the best things I've done for my health in recent years is banish the scale... and add veggie juice to my daily diet. My favorite recipe includes spinach, zucchini, celery, cucumber, and a lime. Put it all in the Nutriblender, and voila! </span></span></span></div><br />

POP-UP SHAKESPEARE for National Poetry Month

Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit Rebecca at Sloth Reads for Roundup.

I'm in with a book I hope you will include in your National Poetry Month plans and celebrations: Jennie Maizels POP-UP SHAKESPEARE by Reed Martin & Austin Tichenor (The Reduced Shakespeare Company).

Before we get to the book, I should tell you that my favorite Shakespeare so far has been:

1. the recorded version of "Hamlet" I listened to from a record player during a couple of weeks of my high school English class

2. a stage production of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" I saw when I was in college

3. the Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes' 1996 Romeo + Juliet.

I am by no means a Shakespeare scholar, obviously. But I have appreciated and marveled at his contribution to literature and society. And I rather like the Shakespeare in Love romanticized version of Will... dreamy!

And what fun this book is! It starts with a "Welcome to the World of William Shakespeare" so readers get a sense of what it was like to live from 1564-1616 as Shakespeare did. There are flaps to lift and secret doors to discover. I've found something new each time I've looked at the book. And the best news? It makes Shakespeare's work a lot more accessible for younger readers.

Some things I especially loved discovering:

A list of words and phrases William Shakespeare invented, i.e. "amazement" and "zany."

Each play (yes, the book contains Shakespeare's COMPLETE WORKS) reduced to a few short words such as: for The Two Gentlemen of Verona: "Falling in love with your best friend's girlfriend is a bad idea."

Shakespeare's "lost" play Cardenio comes with the message "always make copies of your work."

These words about love: "Shakespeare often uses imagery of the sun, moon, and stars to represent love's vastness; flowers and trees to suggest love's fragility; and the weather to show love's turbulence and ever-changing quality. Love's a big subject."

The hidden "quotable quotes."

Shakespeare by the numbers, at the end of the book, i.e. 1 wife, 154 sonnets, 8 shipwrecks, 3 dogs. :)

This is a great gift to give someone (or yourself!) during National Poetry Month. Heck, you might even be inspired to write a sonnet or two... or at the very least, as suggested in this book, a Shakespearean Valentine?

Example: "To be or not to be your Valentine..." [open card] "...that is the question." :)

The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: EYEBROWS

For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in THE BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.

I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead? In January I wrote about: apron, bar, basketball, bed, bicycle, birthday, boat, broom, button, cake, car.

In February: chair, chlorine, church, concert, cookbook, couch, dancing, desk, dessert, dining room table, diploma.

Here are March's prompts: divorce, door, dream, emergency room, envelope, eyebrows, first apartment, first job, food, game, garden.

EYEBROWS

Somehow I missed this one! So I will remedy with a short little exploration:

I've always had thick eyebrows. Thanks to Brooke Shields, this was never a problem when I was growing up. – in fact, it was considered a beauty asset!

These days the trend leans toward much thinner, more groomed eyebrows, but I'm still a Brooke-y... I have large features, so why skimp on the brows?

Besides, I rather admire Frida Kahlo and her bold kissing caterpillars...

In the Middle of the Night: Poems by Laura Purdie Salas

So many congratulations to Laura Purdie Salas, who has not one, but three new poetry books so far this year! I'm thrilled to be part of her blog tour for IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT: POEMS FROM A WIDE-AWAKE HOUSE, illustrations by Angela Matteson, brought to us by the wonderful folks at Wordsong/Boyds Mills Press. 
What a fun concept, right? Reminds me of TOY STORY and NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM... who hasn't wondered what the household items are doing while we sleep??
Please find Laura's answers to 4 simple prompts below.


Take it away, Laura!

Laura Purdie Salas
The difficult: I think the scariest part of writing this book was that I wrote most of the poems in 2012, and then Wordsong acquired the manuscript in 2013, but I didn’t work on a major revision of it until 2014. When I received Rebecca Davis’ long, thoughtful editorial letter in 2014, my first thought was, “Ack! I don’t even remember these poems! Did I write these? How am I going to reimagine them and work on them again from the same head space?”
The beauty of it was that revision shouldn’t happen from the same head space, and that maybe that passage of 2 years actually helped my revision. And Rebecca’s letter and thoughts were great springboards for some deep thinking. But…I still remember that feeling of panic!
The delicious: Angela Matteson’s art, without question. As an author, you just never know what to expect, even when you like an artist’s style! Angela blew me away. Her deep, gorgeous colors and wonderful facial expressions kept this book lively and enchanting—erasing my initial worries that it might end up too dark and gloomy.
And, going back to that revision I mentioned above, it was delightful that a reviewer specifically called out how strong the two poems in the parents’ room were. Writing poems about the parents’ belongings was completely Rebecca’s idea. So, I guess the delicious part is that I couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful collaboration! words by Laura Purdie Salas,
pictures by Angela Matteson
The unexpected: I even got students in on the revision process. In 2016, I was teaching poetry at a Young Authors Conference. That same week, I was doing some final edits on In the Middle of the Night—tweaking and polishing this time around. As the students filed in and found seats, I had different versions of a poem projected for them to read, and then the students voted on which worked best. It was only the difference of a word or two in each case, but students—by sharing their votes and opinions—helped me polish several poems that week!
Anything else: I think my favorite thing of all is that writing this book helped me rewrite some childhood memories. For me, nighttime was dark and scary and lonely. But this book, with its charming stuffed animals and animated objects, its lovely colors, and its child snoozing peacefully through all of it, celebrates the magic and beauty of night. I’m hoping it will help readers find comfort, too. Apologies to parents if the book makes kids want to stay up and spy on their mischief-making toys and belongings :>)
Book trailer and many adorable activity sheets at https://laurasalas.com/middle/
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Thank you, Laura, for bringing so much fun to nighttime.

The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: FIRST JOB

For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in THE BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.


I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead? In January I wrote about: apron, bar, basketball, bed, bicycle, birthday, boat, broom, button, cake, car.

In February: chair, chlorine, church, concert, cookbook, couch, dancing, desk, dessert, dining room table, diploma.

Here are March's prompts: divorce, door, dream, emergency room, envelope, eyebrows, first apartment, first job, food, game, garden.

FIRST JOB

We were given lots of household chores in our family, both indoor and out. One I particularly remember was Saturday mornings spent "picking up sticks" in the front yard of our Folsom, LA house. We rotated jobs, and I always enjoyed the dusting and cleaning mirrors best. :)

When it came to jobs for other people, the first and most consistent thing I ever did was babysit. I loved babysitting. For several years in high school I babysat the Mann girls: Phoenix, Noel, Merry Lynn and Alaina. I adored those girls! (Still do.) It was so much fun to watch them grow up and to be loved by them. What an honor! It was also great preparation for becoming a mom. I remember getting lots of praise for how I handled the girls -- we had a lot of fun together! -- except for one time when I carried the girls with me to take one of my mom's foster babies to the doctor. Oh boy, was Jana mad! She did NOT want her girls picking up some something in that doctor's office. I've never forgotten that.

Other jobs I had (for pay) were working as a cashier at Krystal's (nothing like fast food to teach you a thing or two about people), working in Sears (hardware department, about which I knew virtually nothing going in), and as a Mother's Day Out teacher (which is basically babysitting, but with a curriculum). 

Anyhow, here is a poem about the kind of babysitter I tried to be, and the kind of babysitter I wanted (and had! Hi, Jessica!) for my boys. My ideal *might* be a little bit influenced by one Mary Poppins. :)

The Best Babysitter
The best babysitterhardly ever sits –she invites us to climbher like a jungle gym,then she tickles us to bits.She reads usstacks of storiesand makes mealtime fun.Her fingers are puppetsand she knows the best songsto get the chores done.She keeps us safe and clean.She warms our chilly toes.Everyone who meets hersays the same thing:I want one of those!
- Irene Latham

The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: FIRST APARTMENT

<!-- @page { margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } </style> <br />--> <div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Butterfly-Hour... BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.</a><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;">I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZ9pEXdr8h..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="231" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rZ9pEXdr8h..." width="266" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.08in;">In January I wrote about: <i>apron, bar, basketball, bed, bicycle, birthday, boat, broom, button, cake, car.</i><br /><i><br /></i>In February: <i>chair, chlorine, church, concert, cookbook, couch, dancing, desk, dessert, dining room table, diploma.</i><br /><i><br /></i></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here are March's prompts: </span><i style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">divorce, door, dream, emergency room, envelope, eyebrows, first apartment, first job, food, game, garden.</i></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>First Apartment</b></span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yzQhUHkqDM..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1210" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yzQhUHkqDM..." width="241" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">some Disney mementos</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">I've only ever lived in an apartment once, and it was only for one semester of college while I attended Walt Disney College Program in Orlando, Florida. It was my first time away from home, and shared a second-floor apartment with three other girls – Linda, Laurie and Lori. Laurie and Lori shared a room and bathroom, and so did Linda and me. Sometimes Linda would bring home her boyfriend Grant over to spend the night... in the twin bed not three feet from mine! For an introvert, it was pretty awful to have virtually no privacy. </span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-arMhO1P7ZO..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1056" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-arMhO1P7ZO..." width="211" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lori, Mickey, me (in<br />Easter dress my mom <br />made me, Laurie (front)</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">A couple of things stand out to me about the apartment experience: I learned the very first day how uncool I was in terms of clothing. These girls had “outfits” and I had shorts and a t-shirt. (I later borrowed clothes from them.) I also learned that it was unusual for a girl my age to include in the photo collage on her wall a picture of her little brother kissing her on the cheek. (They thought he was a boyfriend.) I understood pretty quickly how the rest of the world must see my odd family, and it was hard – especially when I was so lonely for all of them! I learned so so much about myself and my family. </span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">Other memories include shopping at Publix for the only staples I could afford: Kraft macaroni and cheese (the blue box) and peanut butter (crunchy) and apple jelly, for the many sandwiches I ate. (The College Program deducted our rent from our paychecks, and let me tell you, there wasn't a lot left!) </span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x1yjgnOK-o..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="920" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x1yjgnOK-o..." width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is there life after Disney World?</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">I'd also left a boyfriend behind (we'd both interviewed for Disney, but I was the only one to get in), and during my stay at Disney, we were struggling – we didn't know whether to work harder for our relationship, or to let it go. (I met someone in Orlando and was having my own adventures...) Some nights I would use the apartment phone (located in the kitchen) and stretch the curly cord all the way down the hall and hide in my room (whenever Linda wasn't home) with the door partially closed in order to have a semi-private conversation with that boy. (We broke up for good shortly after my return to Birmingham, and he later did a few semesters with the Walt Disney College Program without me.) </span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">For half a minute I thought about staying at Disney and transferring to University of Central Florida, but it just didn't make sense. At UAB, I could commute from my family's home. Instead I came home with a new bumper sticker: “Is there life after Disney World?” </span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #545454;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;">Turns out the answer to that question is YES. Yes there is! Four months after returning home I met Paul... next month we will celebrate our 28^th wedding anniversary!</span></span></span></div><br />