Training event #2: Reconnect with your inner child– play!

A funny thing happened this week. My friend Caroline Carlson posted 22 Awesome Fisher-Price Little People Playsets You Wish You Still Had from BuzzFeed. I tweeted it on, and since then I’ve gotten more retweets and shares on Facebook than ever. Jo Knowles and Tami Wight shared my link on Facebook and have had tons of comments. A neighbor from my childhood got in on the cyber conversation too. Why? These toys allow us to time travel to a place without deadlines, or carpools, or grown-up responsibilities. A place when all that we cared about was:

Or:

We used to have time to get down on the floor and imagine. We were encouraged to value story, to construct, to explore relationships, to appreciate the awesomeness of simple machines. (Remember how the helicopter blades would turn in the airport and the cars would be dumped from elevator onto the twirly ramp in the garage?)

The zoo.. that’s a rare one. I used to set up a whole village and decorate it for Christmas and have them all visit each other
-Facebook Comment

Ah man! I had the Airport #1 (but with a helicopter/helipad & a baggage carousel!!), the School House (we used to try to make our Weeble Wobbles fit on the playground equipment to no avail), and the Yellow Family House…. Sigh.
-Facebook Comment

Many of us can’t or won’t let them go.

I’m only a little bit embarrassed to say I loved these so much that they show up in my dreams.
-Facebook Comment

And why should we?! We should play on a daily basis. For some of us that still means getting on the floor and building with blocks, playing with dolls, and costuming ourselves as monsters or queens. But for many of us (at least people who read this blog), it’s about playing with words, honoring the power of story, and embodying our characters. Have you played today? If you followed the link to the BuzzFeed photos and remembered these toys fondly, try to write a poem about it. I’d love for people to paste their poems, or a link to them (Your blog) in the comments below!

Training event #1. Listen to Inaugural Poet, Richard Blanco read his poetry.

On Monday I found out that I’d be an authlete in the Think Kid Think March Madness Poetry Tournament. I announced that I’d be posting about my training for said tournament. See original post.

Training event #1. Listen to an amazing poet read his work.

Tuesday evening I attended the reading of Richard Blanco, Inaugural Poet extraordinaire. Mr. Blanco read at Merrill Theater in Portland, Maine in front of a huge audience. I’d say a packed house but there were a few seats left in the upper balconies. Check it out.

Mr. Blanco’s poetry was accessible, musical, and evocative. His reading techinque allowed me to close my eyes and imagine the words on the page, the line breaks, and how they enhanced the meaning and emotion of the poem. So, yes, I am a poetry nerd but more important, there was a whole room, nay, an auditorium full of poetry nerds, and artists, and other writers, and lovers of the same. One incredible, and incredibly wonderful community all gathered together to say, “Poetry is important to us. We value you, Richard Blanco, and the work you do.”

At the end of my evening, as I walked to my car, I happen to run into the poet himself. I introduced myself and complimented him on the reading. He was warm, and encouraging, and meeting him made a great night even better. Training was never so joyful as it was tonight.

Watch Richard Blanco read the 2013 Inaugural Poem: One Today

March Madness Poetry 2013

You know what yesterday was, right?

NO! Not the Oscars. It was selection Sunday for Ed DeCaria’s, Think Kid Think, March Madness Poetry Tournament 2013. If you missed the big reveal video here it is. If you don’t want to wait around until minute 7:00, allow me to cut to the chase. I’m in!!!

OMG, I’m in with poets like Julie Larios, Laura Purdie Salas, Stephen Cahill, Jim Hill, Marileta Robinson, Greg Pincus… What if I blow it in the first round? What if I can’t get my poem in on time? I feel a little like those sweaty, bleeding chefs on CHOPPED trying desperately to “elevate” their ingredients, and consider presentation while the host yells “Ten, nine, eight….” Breathe deeply, Anna.

Truly, this tournament comes at just the right time for me. I have magazine queries out with editors, pages out with agents… it’s nice to get one piece of good news. I hope you’ll all take a moment to go to Think Kid Think, enter your email in box on the right sidebar, and click “subscribe.” You’ll get a confirmation email. Click through and you’ll be in on all the March Madness Poetry Action for 2013. Ed will be posting almost daily leading up to the first word reveals to authletes on March 11th and the first voting soon after.

Speaking of challenge words, if you are a student or teacher your classroom can participate in the tournament by helping Ed to choose the words. He has all the info in Calling All Classrooms. Know a teacher? Pass it on.

And me? I’ll take all the support I can get. “Follow” this blog, and follow me on Twitter. Both buttons can be found in the right sidebar. I’ll post about my training in the days leading up to the start of the competition.

Poetry Friday x3

First- because it fits the weather (the freezing part, not the snowing part):

“It’s snowing still,” said Eeyore gloomily.
“So it is.”
“And freezing.”
“Is it?”
“Yes,” said Eeyore. “However,” he said, brightening up a little, “we haven’t had an earthquake lately.”
― A.A. Milne

Second-because all mothers should think their children are brilliant- an original poem from E.Boll after reading Ozymandias:
The Parthenon
E. Boll
January 14, 2013

Pure white stone trees stand tall atop a hill

Their sides ripple and dance with marble wave.

Spartans and Amazons circle its frill

Athena guarded those warriors brave.

Climbing stairs to see President Lincoln

A stone forest surrounds his giant throne.

One hundred twenty two score and five years done

The monument is a Parthenon clone.

But the temple in Athens is fading

Its stone is chipped, columns tilted and gray.

A victim of bombs and bullets raiding

Gunpowder brought destruction and decay.

Time, an invisible determined force,

Neither humans nor nature change its course.

Finally- because it is my birthday.
Chapter Six-In which Eeyore has a birthday and gets two presents.

Poetry Friday: Opening

Yoga opens me. Physically, many of the yoga poses (Asana) require an opening of the lungs and heart. Goddess pose opens my entire body with arms up and out, legs wide, knees bent. In it, I feel exposed, vulnerable. In Shavasana, I lay on the floor in a splayed position, grounding my entire body and my energy. I make space within for breath to freely travel. I open my mind, heart, throat, and gut, emptying mind and body of tension. Thoughts come. Images too. Usually I acknowledge them, then ask them to leave me in peace. Other times I am so open and they are so powerful– tears come. I try not to feel guilty about soaking the lavender scented eye pillow or disturbing my neighbor. Instead, I release, allowing myself to open.

The 6:40
By Anna J. Boll

If only people were as dependable as trains
Chug, chugging along
Always moving forward
Not straying from the track

But even trains explore
At a junction the track slips
straight to left
or ca-chunk,
it hugs right

Then full steam ahead
a new path
just like people

Finding Joy after Sandy Hook Shooting

The massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary has become yet another where-were-you-when moment in my lifetime. I will always know that I was in the Jai Yoga Studio making a new commitment to take care of myself a little better, and to find and follow the light of joy within me.

News of the shooting extinguished any joy I may have found during that yoga class, and like many writers, I turned to words to ease my pain of the senseless violence. (It’s raw, I know, but so are the feelings. Please don’t give feedback on the poem.)

Solidarity
Anna J. Boll 12/14/12

Suddenly
the sun is too bright.
A smile,
a giggle,
strains of joyful music,
seem to betray allegiance
to the parents at Sandy Hook.

20 children dead
10 days before Christmas
Their gifts wrapped
Never to be opened
What right have I to cry?

Cry for the country
cry for the world
tears of shame and anger

Again
bullets fly
Again
hope lost
Again
dreams cut short
And again
love turns to grief

I slip into scalding water
Numb to the pain.

My son slept in my bed that night and I’m not sure who was more comforted.

Since Friday, I have been moving on, caring for my children, preparing for the holidays, writing and attending yoga. The meditation and breathing has helped me remember that one of the most powerful things we can do is to bring our own goodness to the world. To be kind, respectful, and understanding. To care for others. To nourish ourselves so we can bring our best to the world. To honor the light in ourselves and others.

This weekend I gave a woman at the post office the .31 cents she needed, I opened the door for an older man, I lifted the front of a stroller for a young mother. I wrote a thank you letter, I called a relative. These and many other small good deeds add up.

“How far that little candle throws his beams, so shines a good deed in a weary world,” William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice.

5 Ways You Can Help Sandy Hook Shooting Victims.

Friends at VCFA are gathering books on grief into lists for the librarians at Sandy Hook. There are some here. SCBWI-NE is making a donation for nonfiction books.

What are you doing to heal?

Fantastic Friday!

Arrivederci!

I’m off to Italy. Creative Chaos will return in late August. In honor of the Olympics, a poem from the Poetry Foundation archives.

The Archer

BY VICKI HEARNE

The sudden thuck of landing

The arrow made in the mark

Of the center lifted and

Loosened his skin. And so he

Stood, hearing it like many

Thrusting breaths driven to ground.

He abandoned the long light

Flight of arrows and the slow

Parabolas bows dream of

For the swifter song beyond

Flesh. Song of moments. The earth

Turned its molten balance.

He stood hearing it again:

The precise shudder the arrow

Sought and returned to, flaming.

Source: Tricks of the Light: New and Selected Poems (The University of Chicago Press, 2007)

Poetry Friday: Keep surfing, no poetry here folks..

I’ve mentioned
my YA manuscript.
It’s out
and about:
lunching with agents,
riding beside them
on the train.
There has been one decline.

The kindest,
most gracious letter
I’ve ever seen.
It even has a posticom.
Casing, jamb and hinges
constructed from
letters
words
sentences.
A secret reentry door.
A FASTPASS™ at Disney World.
For free!
But nothing is free.
To open the door
I’ll need to find my re-vision glasses
checking all the places
I’ve already looked
bed-side
by the tv
under the papers by the computer
until I realize they have been
perched atop my head
from the very beginning.

I hope
the other wonderful women
(agents all)
are enjoying their summer
and their children
(fur or otherwise).
They should be flying kites
dipping their toes in cool mountain lakes,
getting sand in their swimsuits
after chilling in salty seas.

Truly.

It is summer.

I am busy too.
Packing for Italy
where I will research a book.
An idea that floats
and anchors
and floats again
in the grey matter
behind my eyes.

In Florence
there will be art
and architecture.
In Tuscany
bikes rides,
and wine with my husband
(In the flesh.
First time
since January).

In September
sunny summer days
fade fast.
We gear up for school
syllabi,
and supplies,
and deadlines,
and then,
maybe then

The agents will
breathe deep
open overflowing files
and read.

All in good time.
Click for the Poetry Friday Round-up

Poetry Friday: The Rhododendron

The Rhododendron
by Anna J. Boll

Stumble on a bush
all abuzz with busy bees,
Gathering pink pollen
just as slowly as they please.
Their striped bodies tumble
into fragrant blossom cups,
Then drunk with pollen powder
they can hardly bumble up.