Thursday, April 2, 2015

PO-EMotion -- Fear

Flickr Creative Commons photo by Don deBold


A shadow passes over my voice
like a hawk circling a field mouse,
like a heron targeting a bullfrog.

I freeze.

I didn't even raise my hand!
Why did she call on me?

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2015

Carol, at Carol's Corner, will join me again this year as often as possible.

Kimberley, at iWrite in Maine, is joining me this month. 

Kay, at A Journey Through the Pages, is joining, too!

Steve, at inside the dog, is sharing his poems 
in the comments at Poetrepository.

Linda, at TeacherDance, will join as often as she can.
Check the comments here and at Poetrepository for her poems.

Yay! Kevin (Kevin's Meandering Mind) is back this year,
 leaving poetry trax in the comments.

Jone is doing a "double L" challenge. 
She and I are cross-poLLinating our challenges whenever possible. 
Today I have a bullfrog for hers and she has fear for mine!

The roundup of  2015 Poetry Month projects throughout the Kidlitosphere can be found at 


  1. Yes! I was one of those kids, those quiet kids, who did not like the sound of his own voice or the weight of many eyes. Maybe the meadow vole of the classroom?
    Loved the heron, the hawk. and the shadow passing over the voice.

    Here's a memory poem that is mostly memory, but tries to think a little about the nature of particular fears.

    Slow Shoes

    When I was a kid this
    nightmare visited without
    invitation. Always someone --
    mobsters with guns,
    the man with psychopath eyes,
    bullies who lurked behind the middle school --

    chased me through the night,
    behind buildings and backyards,
    through alleys, and me
    with these shoes, inexplicably
    covered in six-inch spikes
    attached to the sole.

    Each step stuck my foot
    firmly to the ground.
    Each step an excruciating yank.
    Step. Yank. Step. Yank.
    While behind, nearer now,
    sturdy feet crunched.

    Until 2:00 AM, when a clutching
    hand grabbed my neck
    and shook me awake.
    Heart racing, I’d blink the
    misty figures near my bed
    back into the darkness.

    Damn. Why’d I wear
    those shoes,
    those slow shoes,
    on my journey tonight?

    1. Yikes! You really accessed the terror of a nightmare!

    2. I had that dream so often that I could tell, during the dream!, when my shoes would grow spikes and my running would cease.

  2. I love your FEAR poem! So perfect to describe my fear in school...just wanted to be invisible! Didn't they know you didn't want to raise your hand and hear your voice in that muted room? I mostly got over that fear, but I think it's still on the edge hovering like that hawk!