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MOM
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Hoping to make sick Terri laugh. The Princess Turns Looking in the mirror, the princess turns, skirts bivalving around her. She looks little like a dragon, though once her nails were hard, brown, broken. Her hair once crinkled, cracked, split-ended, dyed green. Her belly once bloated, bones bleached, eyes runny, teeth yellowed. Amazing what a night in a spa, good dentists, detox, delousing can do. The princess turns. ©2016 Jane Yolen all rights reserved
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Thanks. We really do have a huge mutual admiration society, Wendy. Hope we meet some day. Jane
Toggle Commented Nov 2, 2016 on Under the old oak at Myth & Moor
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Breathing Best Dawn is the time I breathe best, when silence pours into me like water from the stream's pitcher. It fizzes without sound in my brain. Dawn is the time I breathe best, I let it flow around me, as if I am rock in the busy, waking rill. Fingerlings of memory wriggle by. Dawn is the time I breathe best, Currents keep me present, not past, Sparking ideas, pulled into metaphor. My body is electric with it. ©2016 Jane Yolen all rights reserved
Toggle Commented Nov 2, 2016 on Under the old oak at Myth & Moor
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What a perfect metaphor: "She knows this and arches her slender back, the handle of a pitcher still being poured." Thanks, Jane
Toggle Commented Nov 2, 2016 on Under the old oak at Myth & Moor
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That poem, Wendy, is the magic I know. Thanks for it at this moment in a difficult summer. I can sit in my garden and watch the little busy natures underfoot or walk in the woods and set my hand palm down on a tree to read the bark as if it was a page of runes. And that is the real magic to me. Jane
Toggle Commented Sep 6, 2016 on Into the woods once more.... at Myth & Moor
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I love the way you can read Phyllis' line "We did not know, we were in history" several ways, each one making you understand even more of the poem and of the child's innocent narcissism. Jane
Toggle Commented Aug 26, 2016 on Children, reading, and Tough Magic at Myth & Moor
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Big grin, Glenda!
Toggle Commented Aug 26, 2016 on Children, reading, and Tough Magic at Myth & Moor
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An animal dying into a character. . .what a wonderful concept. Jane
Toggle Commented Aug 26, 2016 on Children, reading, and Tough Magic at Myth & Moor
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Whosh, Wendy--I am overcome by your enthusiasm. Jane
Toggle Commented Aug 26, 2016 on Children, reading, and Tough Magic at Myth & Moor
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I would love a photo, Charlotte. Especially if I can put it up on FaceBook. Thanks, Jane
Toggle Commented Aug 26, 2016 on Children, reading, and Tough Magic at Myth & Moor
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That makes me grin, Charlotte! What grade do you teach? And where? Jane
Toggle Commented Aug 26, 2016 on Children, reading, and Tough Magic at Myth & Moor
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Ah here is my first attempt. Well, third actually: Splinters “And our stories should have all the knots and gnarled bits left. Each one should leave splinters.”—Charlotte Hills Passing the story tree, I reach out, run my fingers across the gnarled bark. As I hoped, a sliver finds its way under the nail of my pointer. I will suck it out in the night, release the tale, and dream. Writing is harder. I must grip the splinter with my teeth, careful not to break it in two, or shred the silken length within. This I must plait, or weave, or sew to a shroud. Decorate, embroider—it will know its needs. But first that single splinter, blood at its tip, transfused from the story tree. ©2016 Jane Yolen all rights reserved
Toggle Commented Aug 26, 2016 on Children, reading, and Tough Magic at Myth & Moor
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"Each one should leave splinters." YES. May use this in a poem.
Toggle Commented Aug 26, 2016 on Children, reading, and Tough Magic at Myth & Moor
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Stuff Is Going Around. Hold on there. . . xxxJane
Toggle Commented Aug 25, 2016 on Reading and resting at Myth & Moor
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Thanks, dear--I have since spelled it: acanthus. And the last lines now read: past her own reflections to reflect on all those small natures.
Toggle Commented Aug 19, 2016 on Myth & Moor update at Myth & Moor
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Thanks, Edith--I remember places I learned new words. Always a treat, even at my age! Jane
Toggle Commented Aug 17, 2016 on The wild path at Myth & Moor
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Neat--very few people have ever written a poem in response to something I wrote. Thanks. "Alice for holding on to Common sense in weird places. . ." Definitionally a writer! Jane
Toggle Commented Aug 17, 2016 on Writing as a spiritual practice at Myth & Moor
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Ah, but the spiritual needs to be practiced every day. Jut like writing. At least for me. I feel that writing is both a spiritual and physical act,and that the writing muscles go flabby if no exercised daily. At least for me. And that is all any writer can say--at least for me. If TTW needs to light a candle, to set a mood, I do that with my cup of tea. Candles are saved for yahrzeit ceremonies, to honor my dead, my loves, otherwise I find the smells distracting. ' At least for me. I need to be quiet. No music. No people around. Delia Sherman writes in cafe. I would end up full of tea and no words. Emma Bull writes with music on. I would be up dancing and singing, not writing. I have friends who write with the tv on, talking on the phone, taking a walk. Those don't work--FOR ME. Jane
Toggle Commented Aug 16, 2016 on Writing as a spiritual practice at Myth & Moor
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Thanks both Wendy and Phyllis. Always comforting to have careful readers. Jane
Toggle Commented Aug 14, 2016 on The wild path at Myth & Moor
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Reading it twice, letting the words sink in. As a dear friend is actively dying several houses away, I needed this poem. Jane
Toggle Commented Aug 13, 2016 on The wild path at Myth & Moor
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Think of Us In Bud Think of us in bud, curled tight around ourselves, pulse of light instructing the unfold into being. Think of us in blossom, opening to air, the verse in universe, sun mote jewels in our excuse for hair. Think of us browning, that final turn into attar fit for compost ground for the next bud. Think of them in bud. ©2016 Jane Yolen all rights reserved
Toggle Commented Aug 13, 2016 on The wild path at Myth & Moor
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Sometimes the Smallest “Sometimes it's the smallest thing that saves us.” --Jonathan Carroll Sometimes the lime caterpillar inching along the broken twig. Sometimes the metronome of hummingbird wings. Sometimes the boil of ants out of the ground after rain. Sometimes the little wren sheltering beneath the ancanthus. Sometimes just a painting of caterpillar, hummingbird, ants, wren, the repeating pattern of their simple days. Ground, sky, the hard drops of a summer’s rain, and a woman at the window saying lovely, lovely past her own reflection to all those small natures. ©2016 Jane Yolen all rights reserved
Toggle Commented Aug 4, 2016 on Myth & Moor update at Myth & Moor
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Maybe a visit next year? xxxJane
Toggle Commented Jul 28, 2016 on An Invitation at Myth & Moor
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Thanks Phyllis and Terri: Not sure who would publish it as I am pretty certain the small press that did THINGS TO SAY TO A DEAD MAN won't. xxxJane
Toggle Commented Jul 25, 2016 on Recommended Reading: at Myth & Moor
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Thanks, Phyllis. I think of these David poems as a way to shake out the bones. His, mine. Jane
Toggle Commented Jul 22, 2016 on Recommended Reading: at Myth & Moor
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