Susanna Leonard Hill's 11th Annual Valentiny Contest

This year, Susanna Leonard Hill's Valentiny Contest required its contestants to write 214 (or less) word stories for children where someone was feeling superstitious. I wrote about Violet, a vulture who feels like it was only the luck of her heart scarf that was bringing her Valentine's Day cards. 

Violet's Very Fine Valentine
by Rebekah Hoeft
214 words

Violet the Vulture was sad and distressed.
Her heart scarf was missing. She felt underdressed.

“When I wear that scarf on Valentine’s Day,
good things like sweets and cards come my way.
My classmates won’t think to give ugly ol’ me
anything special. But I’ve got these three
cards that I made for Lark, Gull, and Crow.
So I can’t skip the party, I do need to go.”

Sniffling, she dreamed of the luck the scarf brought.
Then bravely she banished those thoughts, and she caught
a current; she flew to Party Place Park.
Circling to land, she heard Crow, Gull, and Lark
talking about her. Their words made her blush.

Lark was impatient, “I wish that she’d rush!”

Gull said, “She’s late, but we really can’t start.
She’d miss all the feasting, the very best part!”

Then Crow proudly said, “Guys, I worked really hard
on making her perfectly roadkill-shaped card.”

“Vi’s funny and kind.”

“Violet’s great!”

“She’s the best!”

Their words made her weepy. She croaked, “I am blessed.”

Blinded by tears, she crashed onto the ground.
As her friends helped her up, her thoughts flipped around.

“You’re really my friends, I found out today!
You like me for me! Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Springtime Show

Red-Wing Blackbird
by Lang Elliot
Used with permission

Springtime Show

Spring brings colors left last fall; the world has been so drear.

Now finished with her winter's nap, Earth's bright and full of cheer.

The robins chirp--a joyful throng.

The red-wing sings his blackbird song:

conk-la-ree;

conk-la-ree;

conk-la-reeeee!

Crocus and the hyacinth unfold through snow; they bring

a glint of purple, blue, and pink--a hint of joyous spring.

The robins chirp--a joyful throng.

The red-wing sings his blackbird song:

conk-la-ree;

conk-la-ree;

conk-la-reeeee!

Dull brown grass has sprung to life; the wintry weather done.

Its greening is a sign of spring, a proof new life has won.

The robins chirp--a joyful throng.

The red-wing sings his blackbird song:

conk-la-ree;

conk-la-ree;

conk-la-reeeee!

Daffodils, like little suns, they smile, they nod, they say

it’s nearing time to plant new seeds for summer’s on its way.

The robins chirp--a joyful throng.

The red-wing sings his blackbird song:

conk-la-ree;

conk-la-ree;

conk-la-reeeee!

© 2021 Rebekah Hoeft

#FallWritingFrenzy 2022 - Lights

 

Fall- Credit: Daniele Colucci for Unsplash

Lights

In all this city, grayed and grim,

it's never truly bright.

But dawn sends out a hint, a skim

of rose to cut the night.

At noon if clouds should, on a whim,

dissolve to wisps you might

discern blue sky through gauzy scrim;

blink once you'll miss the sight.

The dusk sends sun below the brim

of sky, the clouds take flight

as if they need a rest, they'll rim

the edges of the night.

The lamps are lit. They glow in dim

and eerie streets; they fight

the inky shadows, bleak and grim:

prove dark can't drive out light.

© Rebekah Hoeft 2022

Hop To It: Poems to Get You Moving (alternate title: I Am In A Book!)

From Pomelo Books:

"Hop to It: Poems to Get You Moving is an anthology of 100 poems by 90 poets—with fun factoids sprinkled throughout, thematic mini-lessons, and extensive back matter featuring useful tips to help maximize student learning. You can share a new poem or two each week of the school year—and come back to share your students' favorite poems over and over! Poems involve the whole body and incorporate a wide variety of movements—including deskercise!

You'll find poems on "2020 topics," too, such as life during a pandemic, virtual learning, staying connected with friends, and standing up for what you believe in. Take a "30-second indoor recess" (or "brain break") whenever you need it!

Contributing poets include: Alma Flor Ada, David Bowles, Joseph Bruchac, F. Isabel Campoy, Yangsook Choi, Lesa Cline-Ransome, Zetta Elliott, Margarita Engle, Alan Katz, Linda Sue Park, Jack Prelutsky, Cynthia Leitich Smith, Padma Venkatraman, and Carole Boston Weatherford."

I'm proud and grateful to say that my name, though not at all illustrious, can be added to that list of poets.

As inspiration: my son and his cousin (who lives 4 hours away), played a basketball game called "Bank" while they were both in virtual learning mode during the spring of 2020. It was definitely one of the good memories of the season!

You can buy the book at QEP Books.

While you're there, check out Pomelo's other poetry books or head to their website. Sylvia and Janet make teaching poetry easy-peasy!

#FallWritingFrenzy

from Unsplash by Jakub Kriz

Dark and Deep

For things that scurry, things that creep,

the woods are lovely, dark and deep.

While sunshine shimmers high I’m fine

to play among the dappled pine.

But when the sun sinks low and hides

its warmth and cheer, the dusk divides

the day from night; I feel a chill

as fog falls fast. A screech owl’s shrill

and eerie shriek is all I need

to turn my feet with fear-filled speed

towards home and leave the dark and deep

to things that scurry, things that creep.

© September 2020 Rebekah Hoeft

It's writing contest time!  Between October 1-October 3, 2020, post a fall-themed poem or story on your blog or in the comment section at Lydia Lukidis's #FallWritingFrenzy. You  can find more information on her blog. 

Crunchy Puddles Are Crunchalicious!

Picture by blabla5 from Pixabay

WINTER WALKING

On winter walks

on crisp cold mornings

my favorite part

of frozen gravel paths

is finding

rumpled edges

and shallow ditches

where skims of

clouded ice

hang waiting for

my ice-searching

puddle-crunching

foot to

smash crash crinkle crackle crunch through

to the hollow space beneath.

© Rebekah Hoeft February 2020

Michelle, over at Today's Little Ditty, interviewed Buffy Silverman.  Buffy is a Michigan author who writes nonfiction books and poetry for children--sometimes combining the two.  You can find out more about her work on her website.

Buffy has a new book called On a Snow-Melting Day:  Seeking Signs of Spring.  It's full of photographs and beautiful words that make you feel like spring is right around the corner!

Buffy challenged Michelle's readers to write a poem that uses combined or invented words.  Head to Michelle's February padlet for examples or to post one of your own.

I gave it a try with the above free verse poem about crunchy puddles, which are in my top 10 things that make me happy during the cold months.

Thanks, Michelle, for posting it on your site.  Seeing it there was as thrilling as stepping through a crinkle crackling puddle! 

Funny and Smart

Michelle, over at Today's Little Ditty, interviewed Kate O'Neil, an Australian poet. Kate challenged Michelle's readers "to write a poem based on the sheer delight of words at play: malapropisms, ambiguities, unintended meanings, puns, clichés, etc." You can find the interview and a padlet to post your own poems here.

I'm an appreciator of word play, but not a pun professional like my siblings and husband. This was a bit of struggle but fun once I found a joke to use. Feel no shame if you have to search the web for puns and jokes to try this challenge!

I Guess I'm the Funny and Smart One

Mom thinks my sister Lily is intelligent,
but then I asked why mountains feel so tired.
She shrugged; I smiled, “Because they do not Everest.”
I’d hoped she’d screech and say I was inspired.
Lil had no clue that I was being comical.
She didn’t catch my grin and great big winks.
Instead, she strangely said, “That’s so hill areas.”
Poor girl is not as smart as my mom thinks.


©Rebekah Hoeft November 2019

Catching Up With A Poem A Day Challenge

I'm catching up today.

It's silly to feel behind during this completely self-imposed challenge but I do, so since I'm in charge of this here blog, I'm posting twice in a day.  

Today's catch up poem (more like what I call a piece of prosetry: writing that is more like prose but looks like a poem) is inspired by the phrase 'catch up.'

I've got this kid in my class who works her tushie off to completely understand any concept I teach and is not satisfied with guessing or hurrying through. Consequently, she doesn't finish anything first.   Which is just fine in my book because she's got diligence and a heart for wisdom and true learning.  

Which means she's got my heart.

Catch Up

Sometimes,

I know,

they want me

to catch up.

And sometimes,

you know,

I want

to catch up

but

I have to take things slow--

it's the way I grow.

Rebekah Hoeft 2019

Day 4, Poem 3 of a Poem a Day for National Poetry Month

For this poem, I looked to Dictionary.com's Word of the Day for inspiration.  Today's word is multiverse, which means "a hypothetical collection of identical or diverse universes, including our own."

Being a sci-fi kind of girl, I decided to go with a parallel universe poem, in limerick form.

'Cause nothing says science fiction like a limerick.   ☺

Filters...The final frontier. 
Excellent everywhere in the galaxy.
#alwaysclassy

Edit:
To be honest, this read EXACTLY like a limerick precoffee.  But now, mere hours later, it's a clunker unless you read it just so.  Which means this post has become  an anecdote for the lesson all poeming people learn the hard way:  let things simmer.  It's best not to throw your words to the world without a little time to notice the complete horror of what  bad meter brings to your poem.  

I suppose I could delete this.  But nah.   

*Grits teeth.*

That is not what this month is for.  

It's for embarrassment and hideous poetry.   

Just kidding.  :)  

For me,  it's for the joy of writing. And practicing throwing my words to the world.  

Sigh.

Cringing and moving on.

Day 2 of National Poetry Month

It is day three and I am on day two of a National Poetry Month challenge: I'm determined to write a poem a day in April.

Today's word to incorporate into a poem is pithy, given out very generously by the madman behind Madness! Poetry, Ed DeCaria.
.

#iheartfilters

Unlike yesterday's nonet form, the form I used today does not, that I know of, have a name.  If I were to rewrite it, I would change the rhyme scheme a bit so that there was rhyming between the stanzas to create a better flow in the poem.  But, since perfect poetry is not what I'm after this month, it remains.

If you're playing along, here is its basic form (- unstressed syllables, / stressed syllables):

- - / - - / A
- - / - - / B
- / - - / - - / B
- - / - - / C
- - / - - / D
- / - - / - - / D

Happy National Poetry Month!

Happy National Poetry Month!

I'm planning on writing a quick children'sish poem a day.  I say quick which means not perfect and barely edited.  :)

Last year's poetry month plans went south fast, so we'll see if my resolve resolves.

I should mention I'm a day late so already the outcome seems a little grim.

Play along if you wish with your own quick, not perfected poems.

Today's poem is a nonet: nine lines. First line nine syllables, second line eight syllables..and so on and so forth until line nine, which is one syllable.

It can rhyme.  Or not.
Have rhythm. Or not.

Be any subject.

Some may say it's barely a poem.

Maybe true.  But fun to write.

Cheesy background?
I say classy background.

Today's poem brought to you by Amelia Shearer, who assigned me a word (sprouted) ever so nicely, because I asked. 

Writer Wednesday: Teachers Write 2018

Yesterday, Traci Sorrell gave a writing prompt at Kate Messner's blog for the second day of Teacher's Write 2018.  She asked the writer teachers to make a list of blessings and struggles they encountered during the last few months.  I was determined to write about a huge frozen custard I ate at Greenfield Village the other day, but a triolet about the past and present popped out instead.  Whoops.

The writing of it, as did the walk through the Village, reminded me that the past is filled with struggles and blessings--that affect us still today, so I'm going to to say I followed the directions.

Mostly.

At the Village

We walk the paths to see the past 
come back to life. In present’s shine 
we wonder what was built to last; 
we walk the paths to see. The past, 
a spark, reveals what forebears passed 
to us. As past and now entwine, 
we walk the paths. We see the past 
come back to life in present’s shine.
© Rebekah Hoeft

© Rebekah Hoeft 2018

Scrumptious Saturday: Lemon Curd Edition

It does not sound scrumptious.

Curd. 

It brings to my mind cottage cheese which, while tasty, is not exactly mouthwateringly delectable.

But pair it with the word lemon...be still my heart.

Laura Purdie Salas, over at Writing The World For Kids, posted another picture prompt and invited her readers to quickly write a poem of 15 words or less.  Her penguin poem used the word lemon curd to describe the sun.  That was the end of penguin inspiration for me.

Upon Secretly Making Lemon Curd When Lemon-Loving Child Is Not Home

delectable
delicious
so luscious
so divine

luxuriously scrumptious
so sweet
so tart
so mine

ⓒ Rebekah Hoeft February 2018

Have you tried it?  It's easy to make.  Sweet. Citrusy.   Bright and cheerful.

It's a good mood in a pan.

I've made a batch or two in my lifetime.  I'm not loyal to one recipe--you can find recipes at some of my go-to tasty treat sites here, here, and here. 

Alas, I have only one lemon and two eggs in my fridge.  What's a lemon-loving lass to do?

Scour the earth for small batch lemon curd recipes, of course.

By scour, I mean Google 'small batch lemon curd' and click on the first link.

I have to go now.  Lemon curd doesn't  make itself.

Not an Epitaph (or, The Dog Ate It)

Michelle at TLD had a great interview last week with Jane Yolen and J. Patrick Lewis.  Yolen and Lewis have collaborated on funny books of epitaphs, most recently about prehistoric creatures. 

The authors challenged the TLD readers to write funny epitaphs and post them on the padlet.  You will find really and truly epitaph poems there, many really and truly funny.  But mine?

Oh dear.

Please notice that mine isn't really (at all in the slightest) an epitaph.  It started as an epitaph but then...I don't  know what happened.  Plus,  it takes back story for it to come close to funny and even then is not  LOL funny.  More SSAMH funny. 

"Sorta smile and maybe heh" funny.

Duh.

:)

I Mourn Three Deaths
(or, Why My Homework Isn't Here)

You won't even believe my luck.  First it was my pencil:

Untimely, true--my pencil's death.
Thinking always makes me chew.
That homework-hard! I crunched and munched;
Bit it, gnawed it right in two.

So I got a pen, but then:

My dog--an age-old tired excuse--
True.  He didn't eat my work.
Oh no, it was far worse--it's end
Came with leg lift--what a jerk.

I mopped up and started again and finished it even.  You'd be proud.  But then, on the way to school, it's a nice morning so I had the window rolled down--the air was so refreshing after staying up so late to finish.  I was feeling good.  Tired but good.  So you know I:

Was sad to see it flap and fly
Out the window, there it flew.
You want it done again by when?!
Fine.  Except...this cold...ahCHOO!

© Rebekah Hoeft February 2018

Edit:
My poem for the padlet...
Funny? Debatable. An epitaph? I think so?


An Epitaph for My Epitaph
'Tis gone too soon; you'll never quote it.
 The truth, 'tis sad: I never wrote it.

© Rebekah Hoeft February 2018

Writer Wednesday -- In Honor of a Snow Day

Winter Fun

Gloves and hat and boots and coat,

Loop a scarf around my throat.

Ready for cold winter fun,

Out we go to snow and fun.

Build a snow slide up so high,

Up we climb then down we fly.

Angels snowy dot the yard,

All around our fort they guard.

Watch for snowballs flying past,

Run and dive, be very fast.

Tromp inside, get warm, get dry. 
Back outside, there's more to try.

© August 2008 Rebekah Hoeft

Friday Fun...Except It's Saturday Again...And I'm Still Poeming About Breakfast Treats...So Maybe Sweet Saturday?!

Cinnamon Rolls
Last night
I dreamed
of sweet and buttery
and cinnamonny cinnamon rolls,
fluffy fragrant bites of bliss
to fill each crevice in my week-worn self
     --I know, I know:
     my tummy and true heart
     tangle terribly
     confusing culinary comfort with     
     healthy happiness.

And so
this morning
a slave to the sweet reward
of sugary buttery cinnamon solace,
     I sift and I measure
     and mix and knead
     and roll and slather
     and roll and slice
     and grease and place
     and rise
     and wait
     and bake
     and wait
and savor the smells
     of flour and butter and sugar
but not
     the cozy
     and comforting
     sweet and so spicy
     the dreamed of
     the thought of
     the absently-mindedly
     forgotten
     forsaken
     scent of the cinnamon.

©2017 Rebekah Hoeft

Friday Fun..Or Not...Because No Doughnut...Plus It's Saturday

Over at Jama's Alphabet Soup, she's talking about doughnuts.  Don't go there.  It's not delightfully doughnutty at all.

I've got muffins coming out of the oven in a minute, hot and surely yummy and smelling good but not nearly as tempting as a delicious doughnut would be.

Unfilled
I have this yearning:
   a gnawing
   a yawning
   a yelling;
   it's deep.

It shouts for
   those fulsome, superior sweets;
   for fine
   and so fatty
   and sugary treats.

Because like likes like,
this crevace needs a cruller.

A holey confection would fill me much  fuller;
   this abyss
   needs the kiss
   of sweet doughnut bliss.

©2017 Rebekah Hoeft

Writer Wednesday ~ Spooked

Michelle, over at Today's Little Ditty, interviewed Carrie Clickard last week.  Carrie challenged the Today's Little Ditty readers to write a poem about a person, place, or thing that spooked you as a child.

There were PLENTY of things that spooked me as a child.  Basement stairs (oh, the shivers), a creaking house, shadows that looked like  shadows of evil but were actually shadows of coats, doors, toys, books...it was rough.  I sympathize with all the scaredy cats in the world because I was (AM) one of them.  Why be scared when you can be happy?!  I mean really--wouldn't you rather NOT have your heart thumping in fright?

Be sure to check out the other poems on Michelle's padlet, especially if you like spooky, creepy, heart-thumping poems.  I assume they are there.  I don't have the nerve to check.

Chores Are Fine. It's Fine. We're Fine.

On hard-packed, shaded, friendly road,

Our wheels were sure, we never slowed;

We moved in sync, with joy, we were a team.

We ventured farther down the lane,

Our goal a simple one to gain:

Avoiding chores at home was our sole scheme.

Our carefree ride was sweet but short 

For soon our habitat would thwart;

Our joyful jaunt was changed when past the stream

Our wheels found dusty washboard track;

We thought that we might double back 

As shade became a gloam; no sun did gleam. 

The houses took a cheerless turn,

The lawns were junkyards. Faces stern

We pressed on, moxie pushed to the extreme. 

With legs that shook and palms that sweat, 

We made it past that unkempt threat.

Our confidence the sunlight did redeem.

Now languid, rolling past a field

Our haste forgotten, jitters yield

To summer's warmth and ease but then our dream

Becomes a nightmare as a shriek

Is heard and heard again; we freak;

Our wheels they skid and legs run out of steam. 

But then we're supercharged with fright

For menace lurks just out of sight;

The farm with monstrous mischief-makers teem.

We peddle fast but tangle, THUD!

Our nerves are shot by curdled blood;

We race with dents and scrapes.  Relief supreme

When home is reached, our chores a sport 

We relish as to Mom report,

Who laughs (she gloats?!): "'Twas just a peacock's scream!"

©2017 Rebekah Hoeft

Friday Fun ~ 15 Words or Less

Laura Purdie Salas is a blogger who presents a poetry challenge each week called "15 Words or Less." She posts an image as inspiration for her readers' poems.

That have to be 15 words.

Or less.  :)

The poems posted by her readers are encouraged to be first drafts--to avoid the quest for perfection and to just write.

Perfect.  I'm in. 

Yesterday, she posted a photo of a maple tree putting on its fall colors.  So pretty.

Here's mine.  I'm a revise as you go kinda girl so it's not exactly a first draft, but it's a close as I get. I limited myself to ten minutes.

Teachers, she suggests using her photo prompts and only allowing students two or three minutes.

Give it a try, why don't you?

PHOENIX TREE
in tree ablaze we see
fiery fall’s finish
winter’s wait
spring’s stirring
summer’s splendor

© 2017 Rebekah Hoeft