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The Cat and the Chipmunk

In the window Cat sits and stares,
Watching with all of her, every last hair,
Striving to kill with wanting and glares.
Chipmunk loiters in the dewy grass,
Nibbling an acorn, making it last,
Knowing, for certain, that cat’s behind glass.

All week I’ve been reading from the gorgeous Book of Animal Poetry edited by J. Patrick Lewis and published by National Geographic. I’ve been strangely drawn to the poems structured in tercets. I’m not sure if this has deep psychological significance or if I’m just attracted to a form I haven’t used much. In any case I have been experimenting all week and today I have posted my own animal poem in tercets.


For more Poetry Friday see Linda at TeacherDance.

(c) 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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My Story

 

I put on this paper

my name
my story
a made-up friend
and our arch
enemy.
Here I tell
how we got
our revenge
in five different ways
and then became
friends.
I stuck in the story
my favorite jokes
my strangest dreams
my secret hopes.
I put how it felt
when my frog
disappeared
and the place
that I went
to let go
my tears.
I included
my blanket
no one knows
I still love.
I put all this
down
on the lines
up above.
That spot
on the edge
is my very own
blood
from when
I got cut
fixing it up.
Here.
I hope
you like it.

I have a manuscript ready to submit. It’s sitting on my desk right next to me. I can’t quite get myself to mail it, yet. The idea of putting it in someone else’s hands sends me back to my childhood, when I would write something, pour everything onto the paper, and hand it to someone, desperate for their their acknowledgement, approval, and appreciation. No matter how old you are, handing someone your writing is like handing them your heart.

See you at the post office.

(c) 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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Malala

 

She was dangerous.
She threatened them.
She would have put an end to them
And their beliefs.
They had no choice.

She was dangerous.

Her eyes were big,
Her ears alert,
Her mouth and mind unstoppable.
They had no choice.
She was dangerous.
There was only one thing to do.
They covered their faces.
They boarded the bus.
They fired a bullet into her head.
What choice did they have?

She was dangerous.

She was fourteen.
She was a girl.
She insisted on going to school.

I don’t usually write political poetry, but this week’s news was so upsetting, I had to write about it. The Taliban understands exactly what will happen if girls go to school. They will become stronger voices and stronger forces in their societies.
For more information about Malala Yousafzai and the plight of girls all over the world, please see Nicholas Kristof’s editorial,  “Her ‘Crime’ Was Loving Schools.”
For more Poetry Friday go to Teaching Young Writers.

(c) 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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Frog Woman

She sits
In the shower,
Allowing the water
To rain down,
Soaking her skin,
Sort of the way it did
When she had gills
And lived in it,
Submerged in stories
Without awareness
Of the tick of time
Or the voices
Calling her to the surface.
She had lived in water
And she was made of water
And it passed through her
Leaving life.
That was before she knew
Of air and land
And of crossing between worlds,
Before she knew of birds and foxes
And hands that grabbed,
Before she knew of dryness,
And the need to draw air in
And spit it out again,
Before she knew that life required effort.
Her strongest desire was to leave her eggs
In the water
Where her gilled children
Would live for a time
In a world
Where life and living
Flow seamlessly.
This week–something for the grown-ups.
For more Poetry Friday go to Laura Purdie Salas at Writing the World for Kids.

(c) 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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