A couple of years ago, my Small One dressed as Willy Wonka for Halloween.
So appropos, seeing as how she worshipped Roald Dahl and, um, candy.
This year she’s Mickey Mouse, which fits less-well, seeing as you she’s lactose intolerant and all.
But, I digress.

Here’s what I’d like to hand out to trick-or-treaters on Sunday night —

Candy Man

Who can take a sunrise, sprinkle it with dew
Cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two
The candy man, the candy man can
The candy man can ’cause he mixes it with love
And makes the world taste good

(Read the rest here…)

And then I’d also share this video.

And then most especially  this one, too.

Seriously. I’m going to watch that one again….

Happy Halloween, friends…

(And for more treats, go check out the rest of the Poetry Friday selections!!!)

It’s a funny thing when you work from home, alone, on your own projects.

How do you decide what to do everyday? 

And how do you get yourself to do whatever it is you do decide?

And how do you prevent yourself from napping or eating a pint of Haagen-Daz Strawberry Ice Cream or watching old episodes of The Office all day long? 

Seriously. 
I’m curious to know your answers.

Here are some of mine. 
They change, day to day. 
And, full disclosure, I have been known to sneak in a nap now and again…

I need some shape, form and schedule to my life. 
My daughters provide a lot of this. 
My teaching gig provides the rest.

I say yes to various deadlined projects because once I’m on one deadline, I tend to get a lot of nebulous, undeadlined work done, too.

I play games with myself. 
I must write, for example, straight through without looking up or checking email or answering the telephone until that load of laundry is done. 
This ensures that I work and get the clothes clean.
Not folded, mind you. Just clean.

I drink a lot of La Croix, preferably grapefruit flavored, to avoid the Haagen-Daz.

I save my shower ’til I ‘m desperate for a change of pace. 
Why not write all morning in my running clothes? 
There are benefits to not having a dress code. 
And then, when I’m really stuck or frustrated or nodding off, I take a shower break.
Fresh start.

I set a lot of coffee dates. 
Mostly with other writers.
Usually late in the week, as a reward.
Who needs to watch The Office when the real live people in my life are so clever and entertaining?

I make people promises.
I email my agent or my editor or one of my critique buddies and I say, "I hope to have something to you by Thursday."
This method also known as shaming myself into it…

I compartmentalize my weeks and my days.
Formally. As in, written down, on my calendar.
A full day for critiquing student work.
A morning on school visit correspondence, and an afternoon for poetry.
New picture book drafting until I shower; revisions afterwards.
Middle grade WIP every morning ’til 11.
That sort of thing.

When I’m catching up on email, facebook, and really cute and inspiring YouTube videos, I grab lunch, take my laptop out on the deck, and acknowledge it all for the treat it is. Then I pack up, head back inside and get to work.

Sometimes I flat-out have to leave the house. 
There are days when I’m too tired or too distractable or the house is too much of pit for me to focus.
They invented coffee houses for a reason.

Often I book school visits.
To add shape, form and schedule to my life, yes.
But also to remind myself exactly why I do what I do.

Because that, when it comes right down to it, is the only thing that really works, day after day after day.

Not La Croix.
Not a mid-day shower with lavender shower gel.
Not lunch on the deck watching videos.

But remembering who I write for (kids) and why (love and joy).
That pretty much lights a fire under me.

You? 

I’ve posted this poem before but some just bear repeating. 
This is for my growing daughters.
This is for my healing husband.
This is for my sister and my girlfriends.
This is for my students who want to know the rules.
This is for the writers, the artists, the dancers.
This is for the deciders.
This is for me.
This is for you.

God Says Yes To Me

Kaylin Haught

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes

(Read the rest here. Really. Do. Yes.)

So this morning, a friend of mine got a personal note from her friends at Amazon.com.
They wanted to recommend a book to her, based on her interests.
They’re thoughtful that way.

They thought, since she’d previously ordered All the World by Liz Garton Scanlon that she "might like to know that Biorelated Polymers: Sustainable Polymer Science and Technology will be released on November 2, 2010."

That is all.

Maybe it’s just my imagination, but the night sky seems busier and brighter in October.
(Or maybe it’s just that inTexas we close our eyes every time we step outside all summer long…)
These days the mornings are darker than they’ve been, the stars still brilliant, the moon high.
Today is our first parent-teacher conference.
It’s officially fall.

I start to get a hankering, right about now, to finish the year up right. 
To complete things, to put pesky, leftover tasks to bed.

This time around, that feels even more important since I’m going to use November to fast-draft a novel.
(I’m scared to even utter the words NaNoWriMo so humor me while I act like I came up with the idea and it just so happens to be in November.)

Anyway.

Before the end of this month, then, I have two poems to write — folks waiting on both of them — two picture book manuscripts to revise — again — and a newer picture book idea I’d like to see materialize. Plus I’m thinking I should occasionally walk the dog and feed my family. 

I’m never sure how I really feel about deadlines — even arbitrary ones like mine. 
Are they the ultimate motivator? 
Or the heaviest albatross?
The lit path?
Or the foreboding wall?

Right now, it’s a new day so I’m going with the positive.
The moon’s gone down and the sun’s come up.
We’ve got work to do…

Hello, friends …

I haven’t hosted Poetry Friday in a long time and, if the truth be known,
I’ve only been a mediocre participant for awhile.
So I’m really happy that we’re gathering here today —
it legitimizes my wallowing in words for most of a day, and I get to catch up with all of you…

It’s been a time of big and heavy around here. 
One of my closest pals lost her beloved sister this week, way too early.
Another friend finalized her divorce.
And then, the Chileans pulled 33 miners out of a hole in the ground — alive and well after 70 days buried and scared. 

Life is like this, so startling in its tragedies and its miracles.
And here we are, so ill equipped but carrying on — crying as we need to and laughing when we can.
Thank goodness for poems that seem to understand.

Here’s my selection for today:

Nurture

BY MAXINE W. KUMIN

From a documentary on marsupials I learn
that a pillowcase makes a fine
substitute pouch for an orphaned kangaroo.

lead the abused, the starvelings, into my barn.

(Read the rest here…)

And here are yours:

BREAKFAST

Amy at The Poem Farm shares a wealth of poetic examples and musings, including her 199th original poem in a year-long daily poem effort!

Susan Taylor Brown keeps with the poetic theme, bringing us a Borges poem about Browning!

Tabatha Yeatts has been playing with reversos or, in her case, same-os, and Greg at GottaBook keeps it original with This is Not a Poem.

Tanita Davis broached both poetry and fiction with a piece by Marie Ponsot.

At Carol’s Corner, you’ll find a poignant piece by Henry Van Dyke.

Follow that with one of Andi’s trademark photo-and-poem conbos at a wrung sponge.

Mary Lee at A Year of Reading has a deserved day off, and is heading to the county fair!

And lucky, lucky Author Amok has been at The Dodge Poetry Festival (along with poet Kay Ryan).

So has Diane at Random Noodling, and she’s in with a full report. (Plus, from her other blogs, we’ve got a look at Cynthia Rylant’s Boris, a lovely Cynthia Rylant quote, and a bonus video with some cat poems, too!)

Linda Kulp has it out with stink bugs at Write Time.

You’ll appreciate the seasonal thoughts — and Wendell Berry’s poem — at Across the Page and ALSO at There is No Such Things as a God-forsaken Town — with a Robert Frost poem. Great minds think alike.

Deo Writer‘s been on retreat and wouldn’t mind going back (as illustrated by Thomas P. Lynch).

And talk about retreats, don’t you want to go to Hawaii with Jama Rattigan and Robert Louis Stevenson?

Karen Edmisten shares just a lovely Ellen Bass poem that maybe, in tone and theme, is not unlike the Maxine Kumin I shared.

Sara Lewis Holmes takes us to one of my favorite poetry sites for a poem by Julie Leschevsky.

And from another one of my Poetry Sisters, Laura Salas, this poem by Wislawa Szymborska. (Also, it’s Laura’s birthday so swing on by to wish her well!) Also, go get yourself a prompt at her 15 Words or Less and don’t forget to read the poetic responses!

The always lovely and thoughtful Jeannine Atkins discusses inspiration at her blog this morning.

And Father Goose IS inspired — by bluebells! And also check out his painted window at Bald Ego.

LUNCH

It’s National Poetry Month in Great Britian and our friendly fomograms wants us to know about g.p.s. — the global poetry system for found poems. Tres cool!

Elaine Magliaro has, as usual, shared some finely wrought originality over at Wild Rose Reader.

From the Windowsill has a seasonally-appropriate review today, of Scarum Fair.

The Stenhouse Blog brings us an original, dog-centric poem by a 2nd grader — pretty remarkable.

And speaking of dogs, Jeni Bell shares a Valerie Worth poem called…. drum roll, please…. DOG!

We have another review from Paper Tigers Blog — of a book called Around the World in Eighty Poems.

And finally — something to listen to, with our friends at TeachingBooks.Net!

DINNER AND DESSERT

Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe shares another seasonal poem — a delightful original. 

And finally The Small Nouns brings us a Deborah Garrison poem.

Thanks for being here everyone…

It used to be that my presence on the morning bike ride to school was kind of incidental.
I was there to double check for cars and carry backpacks that were especially heavy.

And the girls would chit-chat.
The entire way.
About who knows and what not.

But now, Tall One’s gone off to middle school and Small One’s got me, alone, as her target audience.
And our morning bike rides are streams of consciousness that Virginia Woolf herself would be wowed by.

This morning went something like this:

Small One: So, there’s this song that everyone, and I mean everyone, in 4th grade loves. Except me.

Me: What is it?

Small One: It’s called Tick Tock and it is not good. It has hypnotized people into thinking it’s good. But it’s not.

Me: Oh, gosh. Well. What don’t you like about it?

Small One: I wouldn’t even call it a song. She just wrote a song and got a computer to sing it. Actually, she probably got a computer to write the words for her, too, now that I think about it.

Me: Oh, yeah. I know what you mean, honey. That’s not really my kind of music either. 

Small One: Right. Because we like REAL STUFF.

And she’s right.
We do. 
Lots of people do.
I’m off to try to write some real stuff that I’m not going to have to hypnotize anyone to like.
You?

I love most of what Tony Hoagland writes, but there’s something I truly worship about this particular poem.
It is both beautiful and accessible.
Both story and metaphor.
Both humor and utter conviction.

It is, in the end, an impassioned, heartsick, lusty poet’s call-to-arms.
Feel, it says.
Connect, it urges.
Care, it pleads.

Personal

BY TONY HOAGLAND

Don’t take it personal, they said;
but I did, I took it all quite personal—

and I praised what gave me joy,
the most simple-minded of possible responses.

(Read the rest here...)

Some of you may not be as addicted to TED talks as I am — 
I go on TED benders, week-long binges, 
carrying my laptop around the house,
hushing everyone. 

So. Now that that’s out of the way.
If that’s not you, perhaps you haven’t seen this one, a favorite of mine. 
Give it a look. 
For one thing, it’s funny.
And poignant.
My favorite combination.

But it’s also bold and built on statements like this one:

"Creativity now is as important in education as literacy."

And then it goes on to make them true.

Y’know, as writers we sort of have an academically-legitimate art (as opposed to drawing, say, or god forbid, modern dance or some such.) And still, most of us have stories about not quite fitting the mold. About having to tamp down or cut away our work and ourselves so that we’d be more, um, acceptable. But acceptable, folks, is overrated. There are so many other things I’d rather be. And I’d rather our children be…

We went camping this weekend and from the tail end it seems like an awful lot of work. 
Washing piles of smoky clothes.
Washing piles of gritty dishes.
Washing dirty dogs and kids and coolers and the whole lot.
Oi.

But the thing is, I’ve already emailed with my husband about our next go-round.
Because when you’re in the midst of it, there is just too much goodness to ignore.

Here’s what I came home knowing and remembering this time:

Fresh air is good for sleep. And even when it isn’t, it’s nice to lie awake in.
White egrets nearly glow in the dark.
Fire building takes architectural finesse and oxygen and dry twigs and time.
Raccoons can open even the most well-designed coolers.
Conversations that are longer and slower are both more interesting and funnier than the rushed kind.
Trees were made for climbing.
Swimming in really cold water makes you laugh.
Coffee outdoors is more of a luxury than coffee from a drive-through.
There are butterflies bigger than my hand.
Kids are even cuter with mud in their toes and leaves in their hair.
Tweezers beat burs.
S’mores can be made with Special Darks.
Walking sticks look as much like jewelry as they do like sticks.
Skinned knees and snagged clothes add character.
There are a lot more stars than just those few we see in the city lights.

Tonight I’m going to picture them as I close my eyes….