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Friday, July 19, 2019

POETRY FRIDAY ROUNDUP


Last week, Rooney did a presentation at the Denver Country Club.
I didn't go, he went with the trainers, but I heard he was quite a hit!
Thanks so much for all of your kind words about my sweet guy. It really is super fun to be his mom for two years, and yes, it will be hard to give him up, but when I see the joy he brings to his partner, it will be worth it. He's snoring beside me as I wrap up Poetry Friday (actually early Saturday morning) on a crazy full day. 

Poetry Friday was full of all kinds of celebrations!

Celebrating the Moon Landing...
It seems only right to begin by honoring  Elaine Magliaro, who is celebrating her 50th wedding anniversary this weekend. Elaine has also managed to find time to write five moon poems (and one rocket poem). 

Catherine also has an original moon landing poem, based on a prompt from Colby Sharp's CREATIVITY PROJECT.  Word Press is not letting me comment on Catherine's post today, but if it had, this is what I wanted to say, "Trying to incorporate all five of those things into one poem does not seem like an easy assignment Catherine, but you have nailed it beautifully. Your details are so real that you make me wonder, “Did she really have a cat named Luna?” Well done!"

At "My Juicy Little Universe," Heidi Mordhorst shares an original poem, "Moonwalk vs. Heatwaves." Heidi's poem is accompanied by an article and several songs.


Celebrating History…
At "A Word Edgewise," Linda Mitchell shares Pat Valdata's NO MAN CAN TOUCH, a book of 56 bio poems about women pilots. Linda has gone to the trouble of hunting down photographs of the women. Super cool!

In another history-related post, Tabatha Yeatts is sending Donna "Missive from a Motorcyclist, 1917." Her original (rhyming!) poem is accompanied by some old photographs. Fascinating!

Sylvia Vardell is continuing her EXTRA! EXTRA series, where she asks authors of novels in verse to submit poems that did not make it into their novels. Today's poem comes from WHITE ROSE by Kip Wilson. After reading one poem, I'm feeling like I have to get hold of the novel!


Celebrating Creative Families...
Robyn Hood Black seems to have inherited a few poetic genes from her mom. She broke her ankle this week and has two poems about that event- one by her, and then a limerick by her mom, with maybe a little help from her stepdad.

Matt Forest Esenwine is also a member of a very creative family. Today his poem and photographs highlight his five-year-old daughter's considerable artistic abilities. Matt, I'm sorry, for whatever reason Word Press just isn't letting me comment on posts today


Celebrating Songs
This month's poetry challenge at Today's Little Ditty is "found haiku," which is more than a little intriguing for me, as someone who quite often can't even find her car keys, let alone a haiku! Today, Michelle has found haiku in Joni Mitchell's song lyrics.

At Bildungsroman, Little Willow is also featuring song lyrics. Hers, "Balcony Dreams," by Mauwe, is beautiful and haunting. 

At "There Is No Such Thing as a God-Forsaken Country," Ruth celebrates friendships with "Here's To You," a beautiful song by Brooke Fraser, who is new to me. 


Celebrating Nature...
Every time I hear mention of Robert MacFarlane's LOST WORDS, I think, "I HAVE to own that book." Molly Hogan has used one of Macfarlane's words as the basis for her own poem. An added bonus is a beautiful song based on one of the poems in the book. 

Margaret Simon received a gorgeous nature poem from Michelle Kogan this week. Michelle wrote a poem about the anhinga bird (which I had never heard of), and then painted a beautiful watercolor. There are definitely some talented folks in this crowd!

Kay McGriff has also written an original poem, "Nature's Ninjas" about phages, in honor of her daughter's 21st birthday. I love the tradition of writing a special birthday poem and I definitely know a lot more about bacteriophages than I did before!

Carol Varsalona celebrates nature with one of her beautiful word and watercolor creations (I really do want to learn how she does this!). And then there's a double bonus because she share's Ruth's poetry swap gift, another gorgeous original poem. 

In another original poem, Cheriee Weichel takes us all on a glorious adventure in the Pine Valley region of British Columbia. It makes me long for a simpler life.  

Jone Rush McCulloch shares her gift from the Poetry Swap, a gorgeous triolet from Mary Lee Hahn. It seems that Jone took a picture of the Grand Canyon, and then Mary Lee wrote her triolet, and then, wait, there's more, Jone found a haiku, which she added to Michelle Heidenrich Barne's challenge for this month. Phew!

Celebrating New Poetry Collections
Speaking of books I HAVE to own, Irene Latham is featuring Michelle Shaub with her new poetry book, Finding Treasure: A Collection of Collections, that is coming out in September. I love, love, love hearing the backstory behind books, and this interview will be really fun to share with kids.  

At Pleasures from the Page, Ramona and her grandson, Jack, are enjoying CLACKETY TRACK, a fun new collection of train poems by Skila Brown. 

Mandy Robek is in with a nonfiction dinosaur collection, IN THE PAST by David Ellis. Mandy describes the book as just the right blend of poetry and nonfiction. 

And then some others...
As if writing triolets was not enough, the ever creative Mary Lee Hahn, continues her "Playing With Poetry" theme from April. At Nerd Camp in Michigan, she found two fun new books, INSTANT POETRY and SCRIBBLE OUT POETRY. I think I might need them!

Linda Baie is celebrating her 1900th post and hoping the poem she wrote for Iphigine has arrived. The picture that goes with her poem looks like my front porch the weeks before school starts!

Kat Apel's had a busy week at the 14th annual CYA Conference in Brisbane. Interesting to read her groups discussion of several writerly questions! 

If I could have commented on Word Press blogs today (what am I doing wrong?) I would have said this to Michelle Kogan about her poem, "Perseverance." I love this! Those last four lines! Perfect! It reminds me “From Mother to Son” which is one of my all time favorites!


Thursday, July 18, 2019

POETRY FRIDAY IS HERE!

Rooney- May 27- 8 weeks old

I have to confess, I haven't written, or even read, a lot of poetry this summer. My summer has pretty much been consumed by Rooney, the yellow lab puppy I picked up at the airport on May 26th. Rooney actually belongs to Canine Partners of the Rockies. The organization raises dogs for people with mobility challenges- multiple sclerosis, rheumatoid arthritis, quadriplegia, etc. I've been volunteering for the organization for about two years, and my principal finally gave the go ahead for me to raise a puppy. I needed my principal's approval because one of the requirements of raising a service puppy is that he goes everywhere, including work, with me. 

Since May, we pretty much have gone everywhere together- end of year field trips, professional development, swimming, out to eat, and even to a Rockies game. Every day, though, there is a tiny bit of bittersweet, because every day, I remind myself that Rooney isn't mine, and in two years, this sweet, sweet guy, who has totally stolen my heart, will leave my life to become a huge part of someone else's life. I treasure each and every minute, but I also know that this is a temporary situation

For my poem today, I decided to revise a poem I wrote in April. 


"I Will Love You Well"

I will wipe up puppy puddles,
wake when you whimper,
walk you several times a day.

I will love you well.

I will teach you sit and down and stay,
buy toys and treats, play tug of war,
save your baby teeth in a special box.

I will love you well.

I will know your tickle spots,
let you give me slobbery kisses.
pull your lanky body into my lap when there's thunder.

I will love you well.

And then someday, I will hand your leash
to another, and turn my back,
and walk away.

I will love you well,
but you won't be mine.


(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019
Colorado Rockies Game- 10 weeks
Scholastic Reading Summit- June 27- 12 weeks
Leave your poems in the comments below and I will round them up throughout the day.

Friday, July 5, 2019

POETRY FRIDAY


Summer is when I catch up on all the reading I meant to do during the school year. It's not that I don't read during the school year, I just don't get through novels nearly as fast, and by summer, I have a huge TBR stack. BREAKOUT has been in my stack for awhile, and when uber reader Tamara Jaimes gave it five stars, I moved it to the top of the pile. I totally agree with her evaluation, I loved this book! And I'm reviewing it on Poetry Friday because it's a novel with a main character that writes a whole lot of poetry.

Nora Tucker and Lizzie Bruno have lived in Wolf Creek, New York, their entire lives. Wolf Creek is a small town, only 3,261 people. Two thirds of the population are inmates at the prison. Many of the Wolf Creek's inhabitants work at the prison, Nora's dad is the warden there, and Lizzie's grandmother is the cook. Most of the townspeople are Anglo, with the exception being 53% of the prison population, who is African American.

At the beginning of the book, Elidee Jones and her mother, LaTanya, move to Wolf Creek, to be closer to Elidee's brother, who is an inmate at the prison. Shortly after the Jones family moves to the town, there is a prison break, and two inmates, both convicted murderers, escape and are on the run for about two weeks. The book uses a variety of mediums- journal entries, text messages, pie charts, signs, etc, to tell the story of those two weeks. I think my sixth graders, huge fans of graphic novels, will love this format.

And, as you have probably guessed, one of those mediums is poetry. Elidee's English teacher guides her to the work of William Carlos Williams; Elidee goes the library and seeks out poets like Nikki Giovanni, Nikki Grimes and Jacqueline Woodson. Elidee uses these poets' work as mentors for her own poems. Here are a couple I loved:

August 24, 2004
by Elidee Jones

(Inspired by February 12, 1963 in BROWN GIRL DREAMING by Jacqueline Woodson)

I am born on a Tuesday at Bronx-Lebanon Hospital
New York,
USA--

While the rest of the country was still gushing over
Michael Phelps, and all his gold medals,
Mama was in labor,
watching the TV over her round belly and
cheering the Kenyans in the steeplechase
(They swept all three medals, oh yeah).
Then I showed up
And there was even more to celebrate,
six pounds, 15 ounces,

Daughter of LaTanya and Joe,
They're leaning into one another in a blurry photo
With me all wrinkle-faced and hungry in the middle,
Troy squeezed into the corner by the nightstand,
Daddy's arm around him.
One
Happy
Family.

Daddy's cancer is there, too--
Growing quietly in his belly
Couldn't see it in the picture
But it was already bigger than all of us.
Took him eleven months later
Right after I learned to walk.

I was too little to understand,
Too new to have a hole left in my heart.
I didn't remember the hospice bed in our apartment
Or the weeks of saying goodbye,
But Troy did.
Mama always said that messed him up.
When you've lived seven years with a
Big strong hand on your shoulder,
You sure must miss it when it's gone.



Another Story
by Elidee Jones
(inspired by "Through the Eyes of Artists" in ONE LAST WORD by Nikki Grimes. Her poem was already a golden shovel poem, based on a line from, "To a Dark Girl" by Gwendolyn Bennett. So I guess mine is a double golden shovel poem.)

Striking line: Your life's story is a tale worth telling."

Mama used to tell Troy and me, "Follow your 
Dreams and you can be anything. Anything at all." But life's
Not fair sometimes. Sometimes your story
changes. Your plot twists and whirls and the wind
Blowing you in five different directions. That dream gets lost and its a
wonder you're even still here to tell the tale.
But you are. So you find a new dream worth 
Following.  Another hope. Another story worth telling. 



Tricia has the Poetry Friday Roundup at Miss Rumphius Effect.

Friday, June 21, 2019

POETRY FRIDAY

Photo from New York Daily News

It seems only right to honor our new Poet Laureate, Joy Harjo, this week. You can read the New York Times article about Joy here.

"The Eagle"
To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon,
To one whole voice that is you.
And know there is more
That you can't see, can't hear;
Can't know except in moments
Steadily growing, and in languages
That aren't always sound but other
circles of motion.

Read the rest of the poem here

"Perhaps the World Ends Here"

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.

The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation and it will go on.

We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at  the corners.  They scrape their knees on it.

It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it. We make women.

At this table, we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.

Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.

Read the rest of the poem here.

Linda Mitchell is hosting today's Poetry Friday Roundup. 

Friday, May 31, 2019

POETRY FRIDAY

Image from Creative Commons
I wasn't planning on participating this week. It's the last week of school, and it's been a doozy. But then when I went to Mary Lee's blog, I discovered that this week is a tribute to Naomi Shihab Nye. And Naomi Shihab Nye is one of my favorite poets. A million years ago, ok, actually in the early 1990's, I was in San Antonio for the International Reading Association's annual conference. My friend, Lisa, who is a poet and actually did her dissertation the role of poetry in the elementary classroom, saw a sign for a poetry reading and wanted to go. I tagged along with her. 

And as you can probably guess, the poet who was reading was Naomi Shihab Nye. She read in a little tiny bookstore close to the Riverwalk. Probably twenty or so people attended the reading. Her son played with trucks on the floor in the back of the room. I fell in love with Naomi's work that night and have loved it ever since. Here are the last two stanzas of a poem I love. You can read the whole thing here

"Different Ways to Pray"

...There were those who didn’t care about praying.
The young ones. The ones who had been to America.   
They told the old ones, you are wasting your time.
      Time?—The old ones prayed for the young ones.   
They prayed for Allah to mend their brains,
for the twig, the round moon,
to speak suddenly in a commanding tone.

And occasionally there would be one
who did none of this,
the old man Fowzi, for example, Fowzi the fool,   
who beat everyone at dominoes,
insisted he spoke with God as he spoke with goats,   
and was famous for his laugh.

Naomi Shihab Nye

Visit Year of Reading for the Roundup. 

Friday, May 3, 2019

POETRY FRIDAY

Some random yellow lab puppies I found on the internet
My National Poetry month series was "Dog Days," in which I wrote thirty poems, all about dogs. At the end of the month, I announced that soon, sometime in the next month or so, I will become a puppy mom for Canine Partners of the Rockies. The yellow lab I will be raising was born in California, and will be coming to Colorado sometime after May 22nd. I'm excited and more than a little nervous, I haven't had a puppy in my life for about ten years, and this will be a very special puppy, that will take lots of extra time and energy. I came across the Linda Pastan poem, which seems perfect for the occasion.


"The New Dog"

Into the gravity of my life,
the serious ceremonies
of polish and paper
and pen, has come

this manic animal
whose innocent disruptions
make nonsense
of my old simplicities--

as if I needed him
to prove again that after
all the careful planning,
anything can happen.

Linda Pastan

Jama Rattigan is hosting Poetry Friday today. Stop over there and read two delicious Spring poems.

Tuesday, April 30, 2019

Poem #30/30- "Dog Days"



Poetry Month is over,  but I couldn't stand that I had written 29 poems instead of 30, 
so I wrote two poems today.  I'm ending with a tanka.


"Dog Days Are Ending"

every dog has his day
but I am dog gone happy,
Poetry Month's done, 
writer's notebook is dog-eared
and this poet's dog tired.

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Dog Days #29/30- "You Won't Be Mine"

This is just a yellow lab I found on line, not the puppy I will actually be raising. 
The end of the month seems like a perfect time to announce some big news. For a couple of years, I have been volunteering with Canine Partners of the Rockies, an organization that raises mobility dogs for people with physical challenges. I've decided to take the plunge, and sometime after May 22, I'm going to become a puppy mom. For the next two years, I'll be raising a yellow lab, who was born in California, and will be arriving in Denver whenever they can get him here. I'm excited, and more than a little nervous, about this new adventure. This poem is for him.

"You Won't Be Mine"

I'll potty train you,
wake up when you whimper,
teach you to walk on a leash.

I will love you,
but you won't be mine.

I'll teach you sit and down and stay,
buy toys and treats,
take you to the vet.

I will love you,
but you won't be mine.

I'll cuddle with you,
know where you like to be scratched,
let you give me doggy kisses.

I will love you,
but you won't be mine.

And then someday,
I will hand your leash
to someone else.

I will love you,
but you won't be mine.

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Monday, April 29, 2019

Dog Days- 28/30



April, and National Poetry Month, are almost over. My theme this year has been "Dog Days." I'm writing thirty poems about dogs, and I missed a day, so if I'm actually going to pull it off, I have to write two poems tomorrow. Not sure that will happen. Anyway, this week I have been writing poems about dog tails, and dog teeth, today is about a dog's sense of smell. I found two really interesting articles, here,  and here. At first I was going to try to embed more facts into the poem, but yesterday's effort was pretty much a disaster, and so I decided  to keep it simple tonight



"Splendidly Stinky"

Humans,
according
to 
dogs
are 
splendidly
stinky.
Ear 
wax,
onion
breath,
armpit
juice,
scurf
and 
yes
even
private 
parts. 
All 
splendidly 
stinky.  

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Poem #27/30- Dog Days



Saturday, April 27, 2019

POEM 26/30- TALE OF A TAIL



April is National Poetry Month. I've always been intrigued by poets who manage to create poems from nonfiction. Today I decided I would try it. It was really, really hard and took a really, really long time! I got the information for this poem from a Psychology Today article.

"Tale of  a Tail"
A wagging tail is a doggy-phone.
That action's not happening when the dog is alone
Puppies' tails  wag at about six weeks,
Little guys learn, "Hey, my tail speaks!"

A tail that hangs means life is quiet,
Frantic wagging shows, "Life's a riot."
Flat and out says, "Let's explore,"
A tail held under shouts,  "Fear galore."

Broad swishing says, "Hello, please pet!"
High-sitting tail might signal, "Threat!"
Tail that's happy pulls to the right.
Left-placed tail might mean, "Let's fight."

Yep, the doggie's tail has lots to say,
And it helps the dog in other ways. 

The tail provides stability
It's part of dog's mobility
Helps with running, leaping, turning
Loss of tail would be concerning.

The tail also helps when dog's in water
that long appendage is a perfect rudder.
When a dog wants to signal he's alpha guy,
A wag spreads scent both far and wide.

Some might think the tail's just pretty,
It's function is actually way more than beauty.

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019



Friday, April 26, 2019

Poem #25/30- Dog Days


April Poetry Month. My theme, "Dog Days." Every day, this feels harder. A golden shovel poem tonight. 


Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole."  Rodger A. Caras.

People who have had dogs 
can tell you they are
hairy and slobbery and demanding and not
always willing to adapt to our
schedules or appreciate our pristine yards, and basically they are a whole
lot of work, and yes, life
is more complicated when you to run home to let the dog out but
when we come home and dogs leap and wag their tails they
definitely cause us to smile and make
us feel as if we are the sun and the moon and the stars and our
tedious frustrating broken lives
suddenly feel much more whole.
(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Poem #24/30- Dog Days


Not sure what happened . This was posted last night (Ramona can attest to this because she commented), then I had a typo and pulled it back to correct it. I thought I re-published it, but then when I went back to check it was gone. Yesterday, when I was driving to school, I saw the world's cutest Golden Retriever puppy, out for a morning potty break. Then, 12 hours later, on the way to Spanish class, I saw a super cute black lab puppy.

Bookends from a dog watcher's day....

six am
diminutive
golden retriever 
sits placidly
exact cebbter
of sidewalk square
while twenty something owner
clad in flannel bathrobe
does potty dance
on chilly April morning

six pm
two men chat across picket fence
while black lab pup
sporting new red collar
wriggles in owner's arms
anxious to share puppy kisses
with his new neighbor

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Wednesday, April 24, 2019

Poem #23- Dog Days- Jack Black

Jack Black, with his ever present gallon jug
April is National Poetry Month. The theme I've chosen this year is "Dog Days."Almost every day, for the entire month, I am trying to write a poem about dogs. I'm kind of getting to that time of the month when it's hard going. I'm not sure whether I'm really writing poems or telling stories. I am having a terrible time with endings. Anyway, for tonight, this is all I've got.

"Jack Black"

before we went into the animal shelter
I sternly told my son
that we were not bringing home a dog
and most definitely not a puppy.
I am not sure then,
how we ended up with you
an eight-week-old
black and brown
lab rottweiler mix

you adored me
from that first day
you followed me joyfully
from room to room to room
you cried if I shut the bathroom door
each morning I woke
with you pressed against my back
not a centimeter separated us

you adored Star
followed that Houdini on many a trek
out the back gate, down the alley,
around the block to the middle school
there was that one rainy day
when I got a phone call
that someone had found you.
I retrieved the two of you
out of the back
of a gleaming black BMW
the very kind owner assured me
that a good cleaning
would get rid of all of the mud
the two of you had tracked into her car

you adored toys
especially balls and stuffies,
you knew exactly how to
find the squeakers
and tear them out
you could destroy a fifteen dollar dog toy
in about ten minutes, it's lucky then
that you were just as happy
old gallon milk jugs
and those were a little more indestructible
I'd throw them and you'd bring them back
again and again and again
"Please mom, just one more time."

you adored socks and dish towels and underwear
and ate them with unabandoned relish
only to wake hours later
groaning in pain
the first surgery, the one
to remove a .99 Walmart washrag from your belly
cost me $5000
I couldn't come up with $8000
for another surgery six months later

Jack, sweet Jack,
no one would accuse you
of being the world's smartest dog
but you sure knew how to love

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Tuesday, April 23, 2019

Poem #22- Hot Dogging It


April is National Poetry Month. My theme this month is "Dog Days." I'm trying to write approximately thirty poems about dogs, or in the case of this poem, loosely related to dogs. I love baseball almost as much as I love dogs. Tonight, I went to my first Rockies game of the season. While the outcome wasn't great (the Rockies lost 6-3), it's always fun to be at Coors Field, on a beautiful spring night. It's not so fun, though, to get home at 11:00 and realize you have not written your poem for the day! Whoops! A quick almost tanka will have to do!

"Hot Dogging It"

Unwrapped at ball game,
Charred black over campfire,
Barbeque skewered,
Mustard, onion, pickle relish,
Could anything taste better?

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Monday, April 22, 2019

Poem 21/31- A Dog that Bites

"Boo"
April is National Poetry Month. I've selected "Dog Days" as my theme, and am attempting to write thirty dog-related poems. Tonight's poem is a story poem about Boo. Boo was a puppy mill mama, churning out litter after litter of puppies. She was finally rescued, and my mom adopted her from the Mill Dog Rescue. My mom had her for a year or so, maybe even closer to two, when she had surgery and was no longer able to care for a dog. I volunteered to bring Boo home with me. I only had her for about two years, and then she had a liver problem, and had to be put to sleep.

"A Dog that Bites"

puppy mill mama
you bit my finger
the day i brought you home
we were in the backyard
it was dark
you were the tiniest dog
I had ever owned
I was afraid I would  lose you
so I tried to pick you up
and you drew blood

later i understood your rules
you didn't tolerate being picked up
unless i asked permission first
you liked to observe the world
from your pink princess bed
in the corner of the living room
you wanted your food
brought to the princess bed
you would eat it from a bowl
but you preferred if i just dumped it
right into the corner of the bed
it had to be soft and mushy
because you didn't have many teeth left
you would sit on the couch with me
while i did schoolwork
but you did not want to sit too close
nor did you want to cuddle or be petted

your needs were simple, Boo
you just wanted a safe, quiet place
with people who understood your prickly little heart
and knew that you didn't bite
unless you felt afraid

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Sunday, April 21, 2019

20/31- Dog Days


Happy National Poetry Month! This month I'm writing a series of 30 poems about dogs. Today is a story poem about my dog Star. Star is an eager eater, to put it mildly. Since she was a puppy, she's been notorious for digging food out of the trash, snatching food off of the counter, and even finding food when we are out walking. As she has aged, her caloric intake has impacted her weight just a little. My vet reminds me every time we go that carrying extra weight is not good for her. I know that, and I try really hard, but...


"Maintaining Her Girlish Figure"

Dr. Margo examines Star's chart.
"She's gained a little weight," she says.
"What are you feeding her?
Senior Weight Loss," I respond.

I wonder if I should mention
the empty tuna can she managed to snag off the counter
or the moldy hamburger buns she dragged out of the trash earlier today
and then there's the oreo she snatched out of my hand this morning
and my son's hamburger helper pan which made quite the crash
as she pulled it off the stove last night.
Two nights ago when we were out walking
she found a discarded ham and cheese sandwich
on the south side of the middle school
and she chased that with a half slice of pizza
she discovered on the north side.
Then last night, there was
that half-eaten Chinese takeout box
a treasure she discovered at construction site
and the bread crusts at the Italian restaurant around the corner.

How much do you feed her? the vet asks.
"One cup, twice a day." I answer firmly.
"I use a measuring cup."

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Saturday, April 20, 2019

Poem #19/30- A Dog-Eat-Dog World

I found these cute babies here when I googled Dog-Eat-Dog World.
I love Golden Retrievers and couldn't resist!
I'm feeling a little bummed today, because I missed posting yesterday. I didn't do it intentionally- I posted the link for my Thursday night poem as my link on Poetry Friday. It was a really long week and  when I got home last night, I was really tired. Somehow, I got confused and thought I had already written my Friday poem, when really all I had done was post the link to my Thursday poem on Friday.  This morning, when I was more clearheaded, I realized my mistake. Maybe I will end the month with 29 poems, or maybe I will write two poems one day, or maybe I will go until May 1st. Not sure yet....

"A Dog-Eat-Dog World"

It's a dog-eat-dog world.

If you want to be the alpha dog
you will have to demonstrate dogged determination,
work like a dog, and even if
you are dog tired or sick as a dog
you will still have to dog paddle 
and keep your head above water.
Expect to put on an occasional dog and pony show. 

There will be times 
when you will feel like the tail is wagging the dog
or everything is going to the dogs
avoid barking up the wrong tree
Understand that everyone spends some time in the dog house.

In spite of your best intentions,
expect to encounter a lot of dogfights.
Do not act like a hot dog
or rub people's fur the wrong way
understand that many people's bark is worse than their bite
sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie
but you can teach an old dog new tricks
if you throw them enough bones
if you do have to fight, know when to call off your dogs
occasionally you might even have to turn tail
and slink away with your tail between your legs.

Remember, it's a dog-eat-dog world. 

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Thursday, April 18, 2019

Poem 18/30- Dog Days

Baxter, a chiweenie looking for a home



April is National Poetry Month. I have chosen "Dog Days" as my theme, and every day this month, I will be attempting to write a poem having to do with dogs. Today's poem is totally ridiculous. Tonight, on the neighborhood website, someone shared a picture of Baxter, a "chiweenie" (chihuahua/dachshund) that she is currently fostering. That got me thinking about other "designer dogs." I knew about golden doodles, and my search led me to two other websites, with all kinds of cross-breeds. A lot of them are really fun to say, and I just kind of started messing around with them. The poem has absolutely no deeper meaning, it was just kind of fun to play around with...

"Designer Dogs"

golden doodle, labradoodle
double doodle, chusky

chiweenie, malador
cheagle, alusky 

yorktese, yorkipoo
yoranian, chug

puggle, pittplot
papshund, frug

beabull, labrabull
sharpassett, dorgi

schnoodle, cockapoo
cavador, morkie

Designer dogs are not for me
 Heinz 57 fits perfectly!

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

And in case you didn't get enough, here are some more I considered using...
beaglier, labradinger, pomski, germanpei, bassettpei, corgipoo, labradinger, papateese,aussie doodle, golden dachs, gerberian shepsky, goberian, weimardoodle, jack-a-poo, basschund, cavador, bo-jack, jackshund, cavachon pomchi

https://boredomtherapy.com/unique-cross-breed-dogs/

Wednesday, April 17, 2019

Dog Days- #17/30- A Dog-Filled Life

Therapy dogs at Walter Reed Hospital. The golden retriever is Warrior Canine Connection's Lucy. 
April is National Poetry Month. This year, I've chosen "Dog Days" as my theme. Every day, for these thirty days, I will write a poem about dogs. Today's poem is an abecedarian. I usually do one of these every year. It's not a one day process; I usually create a post with the alphabet really early in the month, and then mess around with the letters, adding ideas as they come to me, until I feel like I'm ready to post. I hate "o" this year, but it's the best I can do...


"A Dog-Filled Life"

an abundance of
barking and begging,
chasing and chomping,
diligent digging (and a great deal of drooling),
ecstatic eating,
frantic fetching,
glorious garbage-digging,
happy heeling, and  horrific hairiness, 
instinctive intelligence,
joyful jumping,
kissing and caring, 
leashes and loving,
muzzling and mouthing,
nudging and nuzzling,
opening and closing,
playful paddling
quiet cuddling,
raucous romping,
sandwich scrounging and sock stealing,
tail thumping and toenails tapping,
underwear eating,
vim and vigor,
wild wagging and a little whining,
extra energy gives way to exhaustion
yawning and finally…
zzz's

(c) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Tuesday, April 16, 2019

Dog Days- 16/30


"Maggie"

Most owners adopt dogs
but you adopted me
on that rainy November morning.
You planted your muddy yellow paws
on the front of my lavender raincoat,
enthusiastically licked my face
and declared me yours.

I knew you had followed someone to school
and so I dragged you back into the building
sure that the secretary would say,
"That's Cinderella, she visits every morning."
She would call your owner who would come and get you
and I would go on my way.

But that's not what happened.
Instead we stood, dripping on the marble floor
 in the middle of the two story vestibule.
Your howl bounced off the high ceilings
until  finally the principal kicked us out
and I took you home.
No one ever claimed you
and so I became yours.

You lived with more gusto
than any dog I had ever known.
The first month you ate through three leashes.
You  knew how to open the refrigerator
and took the word "doggie bag" literally
You loved to swim and had a knack for pulling away at the park.
Ramsey and I would sit on the banks of the stinky duck pond,
watching you paddle joyfully back and forth,
and waiting for you to tire
so we could go home.
You were so naughty.

And yet, when the boys came,
with their broken hearts and broken spirits
you jumped right into the role of therapy dog.
As soon as you heard one of the boys
start to tantrum
(and there were so many that first year)
you came immediately
from the farthest corner of the house
and laid down next to them.
And they would scream and rail and cry
and throw things at me with one hand
while petting you with the other.
You laid there until they were quiet
and then a little longer,
just to make sure.

You, Maggie girl,
were a four-footed angel.
sent into my life
become someone knew
I would need you someday.

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019




Monday, April 15, 2019

Poem 15/30- Dogs Teach Us Many Lessons



Tonight when I was trying to find the article about lung cancer,
I found a whole different article about using dogs to detect stomach cancer. 
April is National Poetry Month. This year, I've chosen "Dog Days" as my theme. Every day, for these thirty days, I will write a poem about dogs. Today's poem is a found poem. This morning, on the way to work, I heard about a study, where dogs were able to detect lung cancer with 97% accuracy.  Tonight, when I was trying to write a poem, I hunted down the article and made it into a found poem. 


"dogs teach us many lessons"

dogs teach us many lessons

highly evolved 
sense of smell 
can identify cancer 
in blood samples 
with 97 percent accuracy

it is possible
that researchers will determine 
the biologic compounds
dogs detect
then design
cancer-screening tests
based on those compounds

dogs teach us many lessons

dogs
provide us 
with unconditional love 
and support, 
 and keep us walking 
and healthy 

dogs teach us many lessons

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Sunday, April 14, 2019

Dog Days- 14/30

Debbie and Shadow at the airport, when she picked him up
Today's "Dog Days" poem is dedicated to my dear friend, Debbie. Debbie and I taught together about 15 years ago. Two years ago, when I ran into her at a training, she was accompanied by Shadow, an enormous black labrador retriever, who she was training to be a service dog. For more than three years, Shadow literally was Debbie's shadow- he went everywhere with her- to work,  to family gatherings, to social events- everywhere!

Over spring break, I met Debbie at the the service dog office, and she surrendered Shadow to his forever mom, a woman who became a quadriplegic after a diving accident. Even though Debbie and Shadow had been working toward that day for more than three years, and even though she had had a couple of months to prepare, it was still really hard to say goodbye. Today's poem is dedicated to Debbie and the huge gift she gave to the world through her work with Shadow.


"For Debbie and Shadow"
She met him at the airport
not very tall, but definitely dark and handsome
on that day two became a team
she was the center of his universe

she survived house breaking and teething
bought bones and balls and squeaky toys
taught him forty-something commands
took him to classes and appointments and meetings

he loved her classroom
delighted in being the center of attention in social settings
adored family celebrations
and grieved at family sadnesses

from the very beginning
she knew their relationship was temporary
another would reap the benefits
of all that work
all that caring
all that loving

even so
when it was time for him
to fulfill his bigger purpose
he took a chunk of her heart

with him

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2019

Debbie and Shadow in February, on strike with the Denver teachers

Saturday, April 13, 2019

Poem 13/30- Dog Days

Zuni (Zoo-Knee, a Native American tribe) and Zeb (after Zebulon Pike, who discovered Pikes Peak) are CaPR's newest puppies. In these pictures, they are about ten weeks. Now they are five months. 

April is National Poetry Month. This year, I've chosen "Dog Days" as my theme. Every day, for these thirty days, I will write a poem about dogs. Today's poem came after I spent the morning at CaPR (Canine Assistance Partners of the Rockies). First, I attended the puppy class, four sweet babies, ages 5-9 months. Zeb and Zuni (pictured above) are the youngest. It's been amazing to see how quickly they grow, they've gone from being cute, cute babies to being "naughty middle schoolers" almost over night. Next, I attended the class for older dogs. At that class, there were six dogs- Xandy and Nia (15 months), Thatcher, Uly and Valor, who are about two, and Quimby- who is pushing four. It's comical to see the differences in behavior between the younger dogs and the older dogs. The younger dogs want to do a good job and they try hard, but the world is an interesting place, and sometimes, it's really hard to focus. Not sure why, but visions of my sixth graders dancing through my head. Tonight I wrote a haiku and a tanka.  I wish I had better titles…


"In WhichPuppies Grow"

sweet canine yardsticks
measuring time's fleet passage 
how quickly babies grow…


"Canine Middle Schoolers"
overnight, sweet puppies 
become mouthy adolescents
voicing opinions
questioning authority
four-legged middle schoolers



"Reflections of a Service Dog Puppy after a Hard Day at Class"

Mom, when we walked in the door,
you reminded me I need to be quiet
and I want to do that, I really do
but when I get here,
there's so much I need to tell you
and other things I need to tell my friends
and sometimes a bark or two just pops out…

Mom, you said heel
and I got this, I really do
but there's that yellow guy over there
his tail is wagging
and he smells so interesting
and he wants to be my friend
and sometimes I just have to be a little friendly…

Mom, you said leave it
and I understand, I really do
but there's this yellow ball in my path
and it squeaks when I pick it up
and I'm pretty sure you want to play with me....

Mom, this service dog stuff 
is hard work
Can't I just be a regular puppy?

(c) Carol Wilcox, 2019