Poetry Friday: A New One from Ramona

The other day, Ramona and I were talking about the variety of perspectives on dandelions. She falls firmly into Camp-I-Love-Them. The next day, she needed to produce a piece of writing for our writing group, and she wrote this poem. I absolutely love it. 

The Dandelion Lady
by Ramona (age 16)

The Dandelion Lady sees beauty and light,
where others see nuisance and blight.

She loves the bright, yellow heads,
where others fear for their flower beds.

She picks a bouquet, and at the end of her day,
says, "Thank you, dandelions!" and throws them away.

Friends ask, "How is your crop?"
She replies, "It fills my heart to the top."

Neighbors ask, "How are your seeds?"
She chuckles and responds, "Why, they're growing like weeds!"

~~~~~

Where do you stand on dandelions? 

For more about the magic of nature and all things poetic, visit Margaret Simon at Reflections on the Teche, for this week's round-up. 

Poetry Friday: A Ramona Original

We got back yesterday from an overnight in a cabin at a beautiful state park, and I was reminded of the first time we "camped" (it's not really camping when the cabin is like a hotel room, is it? But that's the only way I camp) at this spot:

Ramona was almost five on that trip. Back then, she brought Mr. Potato Head along and looked like this: 

After hearing a whipporwhill, she was enchanted, and composed this poem, which I love as much today as I did nine years ago: 

It's so beautiful here.

If only insane, 

I could be a whip-poor-will.

So much has happened in nine years. My family has grown up, our vistas have expanded, scenic views have changed. But one thing will never change, and that is the sheer, utter joy I take in spending time away from the world with Atticus and my three girls. 

~~~~~

The round up is at Reflections on the Teche.

Poetry Friday: Ramona's Haiku

One of Ramona's best friends had an idea for their writing group. They were each to compose three haiku about animals, then read the poems aloud to one another, and guess the animals that have been immortalized in five syllables, then seven, then five.

Here are Ramona's contributions:

Large, and hairy, too. 
Sharp teeth, glowing eyes as well. 
I'm gonna say ... Yuck. 

Hippity, hop, hop. 
Fluffy and adorable. 
I have lots of them. 

Slow and steadily
makes its way across my yard. 
Hey! Don't be so shy!

(Answers in the comments. And, fyi, I was wrong and far too narrow-thinking on the first one.)

Irene Latham has the round up at Live Your Poem.

Catching Up After "Camping" and Poetry Friday on a Saturday

I missed Poetry Friday yesterday, but do go check it out at A Wrung Sponge. Lots of great links there.  And I'll be hosting Poetry Friday here on August 12th.

~~~~~

The reason I missed Poetry Friday is that we were "camping."  I first wrote about why "camping" is in quotes here.  We visited the same state park, enjoyed the same lovely views and s'mores (well, not exactly the same s'mores from four years ago ... that'd be disgusting), the same wildlife, plus some (bald eagles, a badger), and the same heavenly peace.

We did not enjoy the ticks, which were everywhere, including on my pillow at 6:30 in the morning (thank you, Ramona, for thinking it was time to get up that day -- thanks to you and my prayers for Tick Protection, that little guy ended his life in a toilet instead of feasting on me.)

We're home, laundry has been done (funny how quickly a mom can move from "I love being away from home with no laundry to do!" to "All! This! Laundry!"), and here is Ramona's latest thought on "camping."  Our first night around the campfire, she wrote in her notebook:

Trees - A Poem

Trees are tall, short, any kind
of height, really. Scraggly, neat,
trees are always imperfect.
I just thought I would reflect
on that at this lovely campsite.
It, too, imperfect with juniper bushes.
That's all I have to say.