Thursday, September 24, 2015

Poetry Friday - Hide-Out

          Janet is hosting this first Poetry Friday fall party at Poetry for Children.  She and Sylvia are celebrating National Hispanic Heritage Month.


      This is the last week of September, the month Michelle H. Barnes invited everyone to take a challenge from Lee Bennett Hopkins to write a "Me poem", one simple moment from your childhood that changed you in some way. Don't forget to visit her at Today's Little Ditty to see the month's collection. I enjoyed writing mine, am not surprised that it is about me and nature.

      I had the joy of having wonderful grandparents, and spent lots of time in my early years with one set of them. I lived in a small town, they lived very close, and their backyard was a favorite place. There was a tree that my grandfather said could be mine. I spent growing-up time in that tree, am glad that this challenge was made by Michelle.




In Grandpa’s Backyard

Splendid limbs of a backyard tree
gave leaf-green shade -
my summer A-C.

Hidden me became
a noticer-
and I wrote;
a reader-
and I traveled;
a climber-
and I took risks.

Blossoming tree,
blossoming me.
Linda Baie © All Rights Reserved

40 comments:

  1. Oh Linda, blossoming tree, blossoming me is so you and so very wonderful! Isn't it amazing what trees teach us? I mean, to be a NOTICER, to be present in life... yes, this is what it means to be a poet. Thank you! xo

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    1. Thank you, Irene. The time spent in that tree was a powerful thing to me.

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  2. I remember hours spent in my best friend's back yard maple. Trees are such wonderful friends. Thanks for taking me back to that time with your poem Linda.

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    1. I have read that when one asks others about their experiences with trees they always have a childhood story to share. Thanks for telling me, Laura, wonderful to hear!

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  3. What a provocative remembrance--challenges me to be more a adventurous climber-risk-taker in recognizing and embracing "blossoming tree[s], blossoming me." What a beautiful thought and invitation. Thanks so much, Linda, and God bless you!

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    1. Thank you, happy that you've connected for a new goal.

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  4. I too had a tree that I spent hours in, noticing the world through green leaves. Your poem takes me back to it. And what a special grandfather to give you your own place to blossom!

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    1. It's just wonderful to hear that others had a tree, too. Thanks, Buffy. Yes, my grandfather was terrific.

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  5. Lovely to hear the story behind the poem, Linda! And how very special that your grandfather "gave" you a tree. Thanks for bringing your beautiful poetry into my life.

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    1. And thank you for giving me a boost, too, Michelle. I look forward to your challenges every month.

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  6. I love your "blossoming me"! How wonderful to have your grandfather "give" you a tree. When I was younger my tree was our apple tree with a huge limb to sit upon and watch the world.
    Isn't a tree just about the most wonderfullest thing in the world?

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    1. Yes, it is most wonderful. Lately the challenge is to find a tree that helps Ingrid climb it. Both her parents & I live in a world of "old" trees, nothing fits. We need to find a different place to look. She is most interested. Thanks, Donna.

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  7. Linda, you and I are both thinking about trees this week. I wrote about tree roots and bumps in the road over at Books Around the Table. September is definitely a month for trees. And your Me poem is lovely.

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    1. Thanks, Julie, I saw your 'storm' post, but haven't read the Books Around The Table yet. I agree, it is a time for trees, & even with our continuing heat, they seem a little lackluster, waiting for the change.

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  8. Linda, your poem is such a telling tale of the early roots of who you are. Simple language took us from a noticer to blossoming you. This one is special. Did you read it out loud to your granddaughters?

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    1. I haven't read it yet, but will. Ingrid, as I wrote above, is interested in finding a tree to climb. We're searching! Thanks, Carol.

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  9. Love the memories present in this poem - "my summer A-C." Trees do provide lovely respite from the summer heat. And such encouragement to become the best me possible. Thanks for sharing!

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    1. Thank you, Ramona. My childhood was one that I remember and treasure, lots of play, play, play.

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  10. We had a stunning mimosa tree in our front yard. I've never seen such a striking pink on any other mimosa I've come across. I lived in NY growing up; mimosas don't generally live in NH, so I miss seeing them.

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    1. I love hearing about your memory, Diane. Mimosas are beautiful. Thanks.

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  11. I love how the tree made you a noticer -- and, as the best poems can make us, I saw myself in that tree, too. Thank you.

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    1. You're welcome, Jeannine, a lovely thought to hear from you.

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  12. Love this, Linda, especially the last two lines.
    You were so blessed to be able to know your grandparents so well--2 of mine were gone before I was born, and the other 2 lived an ocean away.

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    1. Thank you, Carmela. Yes, I feel lucky to have had wonderful ones in my life.

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  13. This poem is a beautiful blossom, Linda! I love the line: "my summer A-C" - cool! (pun intended) =)

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    1. Ah-clever indeed, Bridget. Thank you for the grin.

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  14. This reminds me of how much I used to love to climb trees. I would hide myself on a branch and conjure up stories in my head. Thanks for sharing this.

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    1. You're welcome, terrific to hear your memory!

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  15. I had a special tree growing up, too. You captured what such a tree can do for a girl!

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    1. Thanks, Mary Lee, wouldn't it be lovely if every child had a tree?

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  16. Hi, Linda, thanks for joining our Poetry Friday gathering this week-- and for sharing this tender poem! It made me think of my time with my Oma and Opa when I was growing up-- and my love for climbing trees!

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    1. You're welcome, Sylvia. Glad to hear you got to go back in time and remember.

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  17. I'm glad you took Michelle's challenge, Linda!
    Maybe because my son is in the throes of college applications, it reminds me of how the apps ask you to write essays about things that changed you, made you who you are, and people are tempted to name big, obvious events, but sometimes something that was more subtle and everyday shaped you in big ways.

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    1. I imagine that the colleges would love to read an essay about the small things important in a young person's life. Thanks, Tabatha, Perhaps this, & others from Michelle's post, will inspire your son, too. Best wishes to him!

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  18. Lovely poem, Linda. Love blossoming tree, blossoming me!!

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    1. Thanks, Jama. I appreciate your words.

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  19. Tree memories: Oh, gosh - so many! I swung from a tree branch once on a huge, long knotted rope, out over a ravine - and I fell off mid-swing. Thought I was a goner, but the trees all around had dropped so many leaves, they softened my landing. That was a tree I never forgot! Another memory - my grandmother's weeping willow. I just loved the name of it - weeping willow. I thought I could see how sad it was, all the branches hanging down - sad and beautiful. So easily moved by wind, whispering all the time. And I could stand beneath it and not be seen because the branches went all the way straight down to the grass - a perfect hiding place. Also: so many apple trees in so many yards - everyone deserves to grow up with memories of apple trees, don't you think? To be on my back under an apple tree, taking bites of a juicy apple and watching the clouds - that's my idea of Heaven.

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    1. I've never had a weeping willow in my life, Julie. Love hearing your story of 'hiding out'" in one, and the apple trees, too. Being in an orchard this time of year is indeed heavenly.

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  20. Linda, I am so enjoying getting to know the young Me's of our community! Your tree experience reminds me of this one from my first book which says "you" but is really about me. But I think we humans are all dryads, inside....

    How to Run Away | Heidi Mordhorst


    Take money. Pack light. Coast your bike
    down the fastest hill in the neighborhood.
    The one by the Baptist church is good.

    Claim a weeping willow: plunge through
    hanging curtains to find a private room.
    The swish of long leaves keeps you company.

    Or lie under a cedar with triple trunks
    capturing air and space above you.
    Its needles make a pungent carpet.

    Or climb a dense magnolia. There are
    leathery leaves to hide you from enemies,
    fuzzy grenades to lob through the branches.

    Then go shopping. You don’t need much:
    saltines, peanut butter, a carton of milk.
    Your finger makes a perfect knife.

    Now move in and build your nest.
    Hang your bag on a twiggy hook.

    Stay. Eat. Read your book.
    Stay until you know they’re worried.
    Stay until you miss your brother.
    Stay until the shadows cool your mood.

    Then pump your book, your bag, your bike
    back up that hardest hill
    toward home.

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    1. Oh, it's a marvelous capture of another 'hiding out', Heidi. I'll be sure to print this out & keep it. Maybe it's time to collect tree poems? Thank you.

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Having a conversation is a good thing!