Fold Paper to Unfold Your Heart

Folded Hearts

Photo by Amy LV

Students - Yesterday I wrote this line in my notebook: I can fold a heart from paper. My plan was not ever to write a poem from this line, but the act of writing in my notebook offered me those words, and their rhythm spoke to me. These seven words were originally the first line of today's little verse, and while I did change it, you will note that the meter remains the same: DAdum DAdum DAdum DAdum. Reading poems aloud regularly helps me to feel the rhythms in my blood. If you like writing poetry, I suggest lots of reading poetry aloud alone in a room or to others. Your heart will come to feel as if it is beating to the meters of the poems you read.

Today's poem also grew from the fact that I do love folding paper. Our dining room windows are still covered with white folded snowflake-stars, and I am slowly interspersing hearts amongst them. Writing about hearts and folding heart-shaped valentines got me thinking about how many people I love who are now far away from me, either by location or by death.

Have you ever written a poem by making art first? Try folding a few hearts by following the directions below, either the written or YouTube instructions. As you fold heart after heart, as this folding comes easier and easier to you, pay attention to whose faces appear in your own heart, which memories rise for you. For me, today, I am thinking about friends who once lived near to me but now live in new places, friends I would love to invite for a cup of cocoa and a long walk, friends who I now only see sometimes.

You might choose to make a valentine or two with your folded hearts and/or your poem(s). Remember this: handmade gifts of art and writing are meaningful and cannot be purchased. Such gifts are important gifts indeed.

And if you do write about one person...strive to use specific examples and stories as you do so. I began by writing that I remembered the things you always do and games we played together but then realized how I could paint more realistic and more specific story-pictures with a snorty laugh and a dressed up kitty and summer games of hide-and-go-seek. 

Easy Instructions to Fold an Origami Red Paper Heart by cool2bkids.com

Origami Heart (Folding Instructions) by EzOrigami

Thank you to Jan for hosting this week's Poetry Friday roundup over at Bookseedstudio. Each Friday, all are invited to share poems, poem books, poetry ideas, and friendship in this open and welcoming poetry community.

If you try making a different kind of art and allowing it to inspire you, I would love to hear about it!

xo,

Amy

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Experiment with a Short Form

Family Button Box

Photo by Amy LV

Students - Today's poem blossomed from an old family cigar box full of buttons and a chance opening to a page in Kyle Vaughn's inspiring book LIGHTNING PATHS: 75 POETRY EXERCISES.

The short form is inspired by the landay, a thousands-of-years-old, two-line poem form with nine syllables in the first line and thirteen syllables in the second line. (Go ahead...count.) Vaughn explains that such poems are "simple and deal with common, earthly concerns: love, suffering, war, nature, beauty, death." Landays often criticize elements of life, are anonymous, and are shared by and among Afghan women, shared orally as a way to express anger and grief, frustration and love. 

I am not living in Afghanistan long ago or today, composing and speaking these words with my neighbors and in-person community, but I too wish to learn to express a feeling with a certain number of syllables - twenty-two. My small lines speak to the grandmother who died before I was born, who died before my parents were even married. I believe that the button box belonged to her, Geraldine Pappier Ludwig. I wish I could bring Grandma Ludwig back to life for a day with this box of buttons on the table and a kettle of water brewing for tea we could share.

You might wish to try writing a poem inspired by the landay form. If so, draft two lines about one of these big ideas or another big idea of your choosing:

love

suffering

war

nature

beauty

death

Consider choosing a feeling or a memory or an object or a small moment of time related to the big idea to get started. And try counting syllables. Work toward nine syllables in your first line and thirteen in your second line. Writing only two lines allows us to focus on the count more easily than when we are writing four or eight or sixteen or thirty-two lines.

Thank you to Tabatha for hosting this week's Poetry Friday roundup over at The Opposite of Indifference with a perfect monologue from Shakespeare's HENRY V and her ever-generous thoughts. Each Friday, all are invited to share poems, poem books, poetry ideas, and friendship in this open and welcoming poetry community.

Hmmmm. Perhaps each of those buttons yearns to have a poem written about it. Back to the box I go!

xo,

Amy

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Celebrate Secondhand Objects

Everything Thrifted

Photo by Amy LV

Students - Every bit of clothing you see in the photo above was owned by someone (or someones) before me. The hat belonged to my former and now deceased English Professor Julia Walker, the silk scarf came from a thrift store about a year ago, and I just purchased the blue corduroy jacket with its velvet cuffs and collar earlier this week. Yay for old clothing owned once by others! My good friend Katie has a motto - "Secondhand first," a motto I believe is very wise. Not only do we save money when we buy used, we also preserve stories and protect the planet by conserving resources. So...if you have ever wondered about thrifting, please know that I am 100% Team Thrift, celebrating the preservation of stories and resources.

Today's poem is about one thrifted item, my "new" blue coat. When I saw it hanging on the rack this week, I knew it would be mine next. And I do so love imagining the memories and stories and songs that used jackets and scarves and shirts and skirt hold from their former owner (owners?)

Do you own an article of clothing or a toy or another object that was once owned by someone else? What is this object? What memories do you believe it still might hold? You may wish to pretend that this object is talking to you, sharing memories of its past. Do these memories make you laugh? Cry? Write about what you imagine, what you wonder, what you think, what you believe.

It is environmentally sound and poetic to buy used. Be like my friend Katie. Remember her words, "Secondhand first." You help the planet...and you can imagine some good stories too.

If you're interested, here is my messy, crossed-out draft for today's poem. Celebrate the discovery of the just-right word! It takes time, dear friends, time. 

Glorious Messy Draft

Click to Enlarge

Photo by Amy LV

Thank you to Tricia for hosting this week's Poetry Friday roundup over at The Miss Rumphius Effect with a celebration of typewriters (and inspiration for me to pull out my old orange typewriter!) Each Friday, all are invited to share poems, poem books, poetry ideas, and friendship in this open and welcoming poetry community.

xo,

Amy

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Recall the Words of Another

Breakfast Pear

Photo by Amy LV

Reading by Amy LV

Song by Gart Westerhout

Students - Happy New Year! I am finally back after a lovely holiday filled with visitors and visiting and so much food. I hope that your January is off to a warm and cozy start, and I wish you so much goodness as we make another trip around the sun together.

While you can always hear me reading a poem as above, today I am happy to also share my friend Gart Westerhout's lovely musical version of "Words Live On." Gart is a professor, composer, and director of a musical theater in Japan, and I am grateful each time he translates my small poems into song. Thank you, Gart!

Today's poem was inspired by my breakfast, shown in the photograph above, and the final stanza of this poem is a true one for me. My loving grandma Florence Ethel Conolly Dryer did say these words to my mom, and she keeps them alive so that now and forever...pears will taste like perfume to me. My grandma was a great teacher and a poet who loved theatre, battled depression, and brought so much kindness into our lives. Each time my mom tells me a story or shares something that Grandma used to say, I hold on to the words.

What about you? Whose words rise regularly in your mind, even once every long while? What did you eat for breakfast? Who do you miss? One of the interesting things about life is that one thought leads to another leads to another, and if we follow the crumbs, the trail can sometimes add up to a little verse.

Below you can see the happily scribbled draft of this poem, written in the wee hours of this morning before I drove my husband to school. Notice that even though the final words appear here, the line breaks are different. Often when I move from a handwritten draft to a typed one, this is something that changes. It is so easy to change line breaks on a computer, and I am thankful for that.

Draft for Today's Poem

(Click to Enlarge)

Photo by Amy LV

As I wrote the first two lines of this poem (four lines in the first draft), I felt myself remembering one of my favorite books, Lynn Reiser's CHERRY PIES AND LULLABIES, a list story sharing the ways that traditions change - and also stay much the same - through generations. The rhythm of this book still lives within me, just like my grandma's pear-words.

CHERRY PIES AND LULLABIES by Lynn Reiser

Available through thriftbooks

Might you be able to think of a book you've heard or read many times and write a poem or story or essay somehwat inspired by its story or rhythm? The world is strewn with good ideas, like the zillions of snowflakes covering our Western New York world.

Thank you to Kat for hosting this week's Poetry Friday roundup over at Kathryn Apel with a fabulous back and forth poem comparing cats and dogs. Each Friday, all are invited to share poems, poem books, poetry ideas, and friendship in this open and welcoming poetry community.

I wish you memories of words that you wish to keep. And too, a heart and mouth full of words to live forever in the people you love.

xo,

Amy

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Where is Home?

Making an Orange Pomander

Photo by Amy LV

Cuddling Claude

Photo by Amy LV

Looking at Twinkly Lights

Photo by Amy LV

Students - When we think of home, we often think about a structure: an apartment, a house, a building of some sort. But home can also be a feeling, and for me, it is often a quiet feeling. Home is the feeling of making something slowly with my hands. Home is the feeling of touching the soft fur of our poofy friend Claude. Home is the feeling of staring at my favorite twinkly lights on this cold winter morning.

Today's poem is simply a pause to appreciate the home of quiet that I try (and often fail) to carry inside of my own pocketheart. I wrote this poem in all lowercase letters because it felt quieter to me that way, and as always, I read it aloud over and over as I wrote each line. A beautiful example of a poem in all lowercase letters and with no punctuation is Nikki Giovanni's "Winter Poem."  Nikki passed away this month and will remain forever a shining star forever in the hearts of poem readers.

Allow yourself to play with your writing. Try something new, like rhyming...or not rhyming...or writing long lines instead of short ones...or letting go of capital letters...or writing funny instead of serious. Trust yourself to know that writing is exploration. And know, too, that writing is about your own mind; it not about patching together something written by computers.

When you write or make art this week, you may choose to begin with the question, "What feels like home for me right now?"

Thank you to Jone for hosting this week's Poetry Friday roundup over at Jone MacCulloch. Each Friday, all are invited to share poems, poem books, poetry ideas, and friendship in this open and welcoming poetry community.

May you gratefully notice the moments of home in your life as we bring 2024 to a close...

xo,

Amy

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List Your Way

Our Home Nestled in Snow

Photo by Mark LV

Students - Where we live in Western New York can be very snowy, and this week has been especially snowy. So much that there was no school yesterday or today. Sometimes I know what to write about because it surrounds my every moment - and right now snow is absolutely everywhere. Out every window, out each door...we meet poofs of snow. There is almost two feet out there right now, and the snow is over three feet deep in the town where my husband Mark teaches.

Today's poem is a list poem and a celebration poem and a poem written in quatrains, or four-line stanzas. I simply began listing things I love about snowfall and snow days and snowy mornings and then tried to gently rhyme along the way. Below you can see that there was a lot of crossing out along the way, just as there always is. I love writing by hand because the act of crossing out is part of my process.

Drafting in the Snow

Photo by Amy LV

If you are not sure what to write today or this week or anytime, try beginning with a list. Maybe list things you like about something that many people do not like. (Many people do not like snow!) You need not use everything on your list, and you need not know where it will go when you begin. Your writing mind will lead when you trust it. List your way....

Linda is hosting this week's Poetry Friday roundup over at A Word Edgewise with a playful sharing of poem mashing together, such a fun idea! Each Friday, all are invited to share poems, poem books, poetry ideas, and friendship in this open and welcoming poetry community.

This week I wish you interesting weather and interesting thoughts about that same weather.

xo,

Amy

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Write in Third Person

November 20, 2024 Before

Photo by Amy LV

November 20, 2024 After

Photo by Amy LV

Students - Sometimes when we read, we assume that the author of a story or poem is writing about themselves, even if they have not said that this is true. The truth is, oftentimes, authors write in the first person 'I' voice when a piece is not about themselves. Rather, they PRETEND that they are someone else and IMAGINE a whole new world that they have never experienced. They write in the 'I' voice even though they never physically experienced what they are writing. For example, I could write a piece about my memories as a cloud (I looked down at tiny trucks and trains) even though I am not actually a cloud.

Similarly, authors can write in the third person 'she/he/they/it' voice even if a piece IS about their own life. Authors can take a step back and imagine themselves at a bit of a distance, watching an experience they truly had, shaping it for a character perhaps just like themselves, perhaps somewhat different. Sometimes characters are really the author, sometimes not the author at all, and sometimes a mix of the author and imagination.

Today's poem is true, it is about something that happened to me two days ago, and it is also in the third person 'he/she/they/it' voice. I wrote it this way because I wanted it to feel a little bit more like a story and as I wrote, I did imagine the character much like me but much older and grayer somehow.

You might wish to try this. Remember something that happened to you, and write about it in the third person 'he/she/they/it' voice. This will help you take a step back. You may choose to keep your memory as it really happened, or who knows? Perhaps you will change it a little. Perhaps you will change it a lot. Perhaps you will end up writing about a completely different thing than you started with. You are the author...so you make all of those important decisions.

Playing with point of view can give our poems and our stories new flavors and can bring new ideas into our minds.

Ruth is hosting this week's Poetry Friday roundup over at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken Town with some thoughtful words and an original poem around the phrase My world, your world, our world. Each Friday, all are invited to share poems, poem books, poetry ideas, and friendship in this open and welcoming poetry community.

Remember...difficult things will always happen in life, even when we work hard. It is good to take that time to sigh, but we can always start again. I wish you new beginnings.

xo,

Amy

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