Robyn Hood Black - children's author, poet, artist

I got a bit busy in artsyletters-land this week and didn't conjure up a post, but please go visit Susan at Chicken Spaghetti for this week's Roundup! See you next week, when it will be - gulp! - September!

 

Greetings, Poetry Lovers!  Did you catch the blue moon earlier this week?

 

Our Southeast Region of the Haiku Society of America had a "blue moon" themed chiisai kukai (a little contest, basically), with our fearless leader and wickedly talented poet Michael Henry Lee as judge.  He selected five poems to feature on the region's Facebook page (& in the HSA newsletter), and I'm delighted to share mine was one of them.  The poems are listed in the order he received them.  Hence, mine is last, because - you know that's how I roll most of the time. (Insert shrug emoji here.)

 

Here's my haiku:

 

blue moon
the tang
of wild muscadines

Robyn Hood Black

 

and here's the Facebook link to all of them.  

 

This poem came to be because I'd had the poem prompt on my mind for a few days without any bursts of inspiration.  Then on a walk with our dog one day, I closed the back yard gate to notice that the muscadine vines at the edge of the woods, which had held a few green orbs earlier in the summer, now had even fewer blue ones! (I'm sure there were more that our woodland friends got before I paid attention.)  I found a few more muscadines on the path in our woodsy front yard, too. 

 

I suppose the visual ideas of a "blue" moon and the purply blue grapes clicked into place and I soon had the two images for my poem.  I washed a couple of the grapes and ate them, enjoying the wild kick to their sweetness - and, the rest of the poem got in line. Pondering the haiku later, I realized the "tang" was a fun word to have chosen because I am of a certain age, and I grew up in Central Florida, where we would run outside to watch rockets go up from the Cape. Anybody else remember drinking Tang, the powdery orange drink of astronauts?? (Here's a reminder.) I still recall how it tasted! 

 

Finally, in a blatent bit of self promotion and only related by a hint of moondust, I've had records (the old vinyl kind) on my mind as well.  Just the words "Blue Moon" make the old song start playing in my head.  (Here's a version by Billie Holiday. And one by Nat King Cole.)  Where am I going with all this?

 

I recently found the most wonderful kitschy plastic record charms offered by a fellow Etsy seller.  My dad was in radio when I was young, and I still have some albums around here and one of those vintage-y looking Crosby turntables.  Its plastic components aren't quite as nice as the old players.  Anyway, I ordered a bunch of the miniature records and thought it would be fun to pair them with vintage Swarovski black crystal connectors for earrings.  (Here they are in my Esy shop.)  The charms were made in Japan in the 1960s.  (I was made in the USA in the 1960s.) There are four different paper labels on the tiny records, and one is another Nat King Cole song, Autumn Leaves.  That reminds me that the couple of mornings we've had in the 50s and 60s here this week are winks at what's to come, as we turn from Summer to Fall in just a few weeks. 

 

Time to set my haiku antennae to another change of seasons!

 

Rose is paying attention to the seasons, too, this week - catch her great Roundup post over at Imagine the Possibilities.  Thanks for hosting, Rose!

 

Greetings, Poetry Lovers!  Did you catch the Perseids Meteor Shower? Alas, I did not.  Cloudy here in recent days and I didn't stay up past midnight (though I often do). ;0) But I've had the night sky on my RADAR this week lately for a poetic reason.  Our Haiku Society of America region has another little contest going on, which I entered at the last minute, and we were supposed to consider the theme, "blue moon." I'm anxious to read what folks came up with!

 

Hence, the fun illustration above, and the appeal of this quirky old poem I hadn't read before.  I found it in THE POETRY BOOK - 5, a 1920s educational book from a series by Rand McNally & Company.

 

 

GOING TOO FAR

 

by Mildred Howells (painter and poet, 1873-1966)

 

A woman who lived in Holland, of old,

Polished her brass till it shone like gold.

She washed her pig after all his meals

In spite of his energetic squeals.

She scrubbed her doorstep into the ground,

And the children's faces, pink and round,

She washed so hard that in several cases

She polished their features off their faces - 

Which gave them an odd appearance, though

She thought they were really neater so!

Then her passion for cleaning quickly grew,

And she scrubbed and polished the village through,

Until to the rage of all the people,

She cleaned the weather-vane off the steeple.

As she looked at the sky one summer's night

She thought that the stars shone out less bright;

And she said with a sigh, "If I were there,

I'd rub them up till the world should stare."

That night a storm began to brew,

And a wind from the ocean blew and blew

Till, when she came to her door next day

It whisked her up, and blew her away - 

Up and up in the air so high

That she vanished, at last, in the stormy sky.

Since then it's said that each twinkling star

And the big white moon, shine brighter far.

But the neighbors shake their heads in fear

She may rub so hard they will disappear!

 

I could use a smidge of her cleaning skills, though I'd leave all facial features intact.

 

Take "a walk in the woods" (you'll see) over to Janice's Salt City Verse for this week's Roundup. Thanks for hosting, Janice!

Happy Poetry Friday - I've got a houseful this weekend, so I'm only in with a quick wave and a sign post pointing to Nix The Comfort Zone, where lovely Molly has the Roundup.  Thanks, Molly! :0)

 

Greetings, Poetry Lovers!  Um, who turned on August? One of my dear teacher friends just welcomed new students on Thursday.  Cheers and loving vibes to all of you teachers and librarians getting a new school year off the ground.

 

Speaking of soaring... butterflies.  (Well, Simone Biles, too, but - butterflies.) I've been enjoying the pictures Mary Lee Hahn has been posting of new Swallowtail butterflies she's shepherded into first flight from their chrysalis stage.  Check out her curious.appreciative Instagram page here.

 

Last weekend my hubby and I, with our young post-elbow-surgery Keeshond, Rookie, stretched out Jeff's birthday week at a little airbnb cottage between Asheville and Black Mountain, NC. Next to the house was a large and lovingly tended pollinator garden.  It was a bit wild, and though I didn't see many butterflies, it was literally buzzing with other winged creatures such as bees and smaller wingy-stingy flyers. Here's to coneflowers and black-eyed susans!

 

This week, even though I'm not terribly good at keeping up with Facebook, I stumbled upon a poem that has stuck with me.  It was written by Edward Cody Huddleston, a poet, Haiku Society of America member, and radio professional in Georgia.  I have noticed that whenever I happen upon one of Cody's haiku, it is likely to have garnered some impressive award from near or far. I can't keep up with his accolades, but I'm a big fan.  Here's why:

 

her new name
the crack in the chrysalis
widens

 

©Edward Cody Huddleston

 

This poem received an award in the New Zealand Poetry Society International Poetry Competition.  Congratulations, Cody, and thank you for letting me share your poem!

 

Click here for Cody's Haikupedia bio.  

 

Now, flutter on over to see the ever-productive and thoughtful Laura Purdie Salas (she has a new book just out!), graciously hosting our Roundup this week.