Tuesday, April 14, 2020
Ode to My Hardboiled Egg
Ode to My Hardboiled Egg
You came into this world ready
to be whatever was needed from you --
glue, to hold together a cake,
glaze, to make a pastry shine,
shell, to become a work of art,
sustenance, to give my body the strength
to do whatever the world needs from me.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
Monday, April 13, 2020
We Are In This Together
We Are In This Together
When, in the human history of the
Earth, have
All the people --
Regardless of continent or nation -- shared the same
Experience? No one is
Immune from the daily
News of infection and death.
Turn on the media and you'll
Hear "furlough," "recession," "economy."
Incredible to see crops of tulips and onions
Sitting in fields, rotting.
Turn off the media and head
Outside. Nature will fill you with
Gratitude. Our
Earth -- spinning out days, circling out seasons --
Tells us change is inevitable,
Have hope, share wisdom, take care of
Each life.
Remember: we are in this together.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
Sunday, April 12, 2020
Good News From Across the Pond
Good News From Across the Pond
in the village of
Ribbesbüttel, Germany
the storks have come back
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
Saturday, April 11, 2020
It Never Grows Old
It Never Grows Old
Redbud
blooms burst from bark,
fleck the tree with color,
then open into a haze of
purple.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
Friday, April 10, 2020
Living is a Form of Not Being Sure
Living is a form of not being sure,
not knowing what next or how.
The moment you know how, you begin to die a little.
The artist never entirely knows.
We guess.
We may be wrong,
but we take leap after leap into the dark.
--Agnes de Mille
Living is a Form of Not Being Sure
There are all kinds of dark.
You close your eyes in fear, exhaustion, or prayer
and dark is there.
The sun sets, the clouds roll in, you step into shade
and dark is there.
Your mind fills with unmarked roads, closed doors, gaping chasms
and dark is there.
There are all kinds of light.
You open your eyes in hope, anticipation, or gratitude
and light is there.
The sun rises, the clouds roll on, you step into sunshine
and light is there.
Your mind takes leap after leap into the dark, guessing, risking
and light is always there.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020 (with help from Agnes de Mille)
Thursday, April 9, 2020
Now, More Than Ever
Now, More Than Ever
Breathe
in hope,
then exhale
your gratitude.
Remember these truths:
students over standards,
patience over procedures,
compassion over compliance,
care over content, and grace over
gimmicks. We must humanize our teaching.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
This poem is an etheree. It is also a found poem, comprised of bits of a post I read on the Nextdoor app, and this tweet by Shana V. White:
Wednesday, April 8, 2020
Tuesday, April 7, 2020
This Is Just To Say
This Is Just To Say
I am not reading
the books
that patiently wait
on my shelves
and which
I should probably
have read
by now
Forgive me
I will read again
someday
maybe today
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
My mentor texts for this poem are William Carlos Williams and Kate Messner.
Monday, April 6, 2020
When I Stepped Outside for My Early Morning Walk
When I Stepped Outside for My Early Morning Walk
I was met by the moon,
full and bright, hanging low.
Good morning, Moon, I said.
What do you know?
And Moon said, Glow.
Few will notice
fewer will care.
All the more reason to always be there
and glow.
Waxing is joyous
waning is real.
Whether a sliver or the whole wheel,
you glow.
Find some light
get in its way
reflect that light with beam or ray
and glow.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
Sunday, April 5, 2020
My Hands
My Hands
wrinkled cracked and dry
these clean clean clean clean clean hands
my gift to the world
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
This poem was inspired by Amy Ludwig VanDerwater's Sharing our Notebooks video.
Saturday, April 4, 2020
On My Walk
On My Walk
On my walk
around the block
what do I see?
I see a teddy bear
looking at me!
As we go
I look below
and what do I see?
I see chalk art
looking at me!
Walk some more
and on the door
what do I see?
I see a rainbow
looking at me!
Come back home
where we're alone.
What do I see?
A hopeful heart
is looking out for me.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
Friday, April 3, 2020
My Joy
My Joy
I see
you on my screen.
Hear your voice, check your work.
But I miss the reality
of you.
Your face --
pixilated --
so close, and yet so far.
No matter the distance, you are
my joy.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
This poem is a pair of cinquains. They were written in response to Liz Garton Scanlon's prompt.
Thursday, April 2, 2020
Gratitude
Gratitude
I
give thanks
for the clouds.
Yes, the same ones
that spoiled your picnic,
that rained on your parade,
that flooded the soccer field.
I am thankful for clouds because
without them there'd be no rainbows, and
behind them there will always be blue skies.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
This poem is an etheree, written with gratitude to Liz Garton Scanlon for her poetry prompts.
Wednesday, April 1, 2020
National Poetry Month 2020: The Flipside
Your fear stings like a fresh paper cut.
The flipside is brave determination to never give up.
The changes are rollercoaster fast -- disorienting, dizzying.
The flipside is the steady predictable approach of Spring.
Our connection is like the two sides of a coin:
the flipside says, whether we are together or apart, we are joined.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
Thursday, March 26, 2020
Remember That Time When
![]() |
photo via Geoffrey Franklin on Flickr |
Remember That Time When
Remember that time
when we played
long distance cribbage?
You, in California,
me, in Colorado.
We sent cards
back and forth
in the mail.
I can't recall
how to play,
not to mention
how or why
we chose this
absurdly random method
for staying connected.
Maybe that's it --
the big takeaway --
against all odds,
connect.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
Remember That Time When
Remember That Time When
Remember that time when
I had breast cancer?
I do. Every day.
I am the one
in "one in five"
of breast cancer survivors
who had lymph nodes
removed from their armpit
and now have lymphedema:
"chronic painless swelling
in the arm." Chronic? Yes.
Painless? Not so much.
Please consider the pain
of the compression sleeve
all day, and then
the other compression "garment"
all night. And yet,
because of this expensive
(and I mean expensive)
"lingerie," I am constantly
reminded: I am alive.
I am still alive
twenty-two arm-swollen
years later. Alive, and
grateful.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
Friday, February 21, 2020
Election Security
"Who will stop the people who want to cheat?"
-- Tabatha Yeatts
Your Vote Only Counts If It’s Counted (A Nonet)
Your
ballot:
analog,
not digital,
not ephemeral.
In your hand. Palpable.
A vote that will be counted.
An actual piece of paper
holding officials responsible.
Sunday, January 5, 2020
New Beginnings
![]() |
Unsplash photo via Yann Allegre |
New Beginnings
The water is cold. Give yourself the grace
to flounder until you find your flow.
Do your best. It's not a race.
The water is cold. Give yourself the grace
to choose your own rhythm, your own pace.
There is no right or wrong tempo.
The water is cold. Give yourself the grace
to flounder until you find your flow.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2020
This poem is a triolet. The rhyme scheme is ABaAabAB.
Thursday, October 31, 2019
Wildfire
![]() |
Unsplash photo by Benjamin Lizardo |
WILDFIRE
It's hot.
It's dry.
A spark:
a fire.
A flame
a burn
a blaze:
a pyre.
It threatens,
spreads,
consumes,
gets hotter.
The only thing
it fears
is
water.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019
Friday, August 2, 2019
You Just Don't Get It
![]() |
Unsplash photo by Torsten Dederichs |
You Just Don't Get It
Befuddled and muddled
your noggin's confused
puzzled and troubled
you're coming unglued
mixed up and perplexed
you've been aggravated
your head is unscrewed, you're
addlepated.
©Mary Lee Hahn
This poem is a Definito, "a free verse poem of 8-12 lines (aimed at readers 8-12 years old) that highlights wordplay as it demonstrates the meaning of a less common word, which always ends the poem." (Hmm...I seem to have missed the bit about "free verse." Oh, well. We'll write off my rhymes as meeting the "wordplay" requirement. What good is a rule if it's not bent now and then?) I chose "addlepated" because it was the word of the day for July 29 on my Merriam Webster dictionary app. And it's fun to say, even if it's NOT fun to feel that way!
Wednesday, July 17, 2019
Found Haiku -- On a More Hopeful Note
![]() |
Unsplash photo by Andre Hunter |
To change the world, you
must start out by loving it.
Don’t forget to dance.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019
Found in Garrison Keillor's column "The pleasure of running into Stan on Sunday,"
http://www.garrisonkeillor.com/running-into-stan-on-sunday/
This haiku and the one from yesterday were written in response to Linda Mitchell's challenge on Today's Little Ditty. It's pretty addictive.
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
Found Haiku
something was missing
where had all those insects gone
a feeling of loss
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019
Image and words found in this article: "The Insect Apocalypse is Here: What Does it Mean for the Rest of Life on Earth?" by Brooke Jarvis, November 27, 2018
Friday, July 5, 2019
The Choice is Yours
Before |
After |
Detail |
Before |
After |
Detail |
The Choice is Yours
There will always be fences
there will always be walls
keeping out, keeping in
dividing
hiding.
And there will always be beauty
there will always be art
reaching out, seeking within
exciting
inviting.
(draft)
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019
Swallowtail
“Theology is not only about understanding the world; it is about mending the world”
-- Miroslav Volf
Started by a squabble between goddesses over the Golden Apple, the Trojan
War is a complicated mess of jealousy and political intrigue.
And did it really happen, or is it just a conglomeration of stories passed down?
Let’s not haggle about the details.
Look instead at this caterpillar on the dill. A gentle poke reveals its
Osmeterium, a repugnatorial organ that jumps out like a snake to startle predators.
Watch as its jaws reduce the shoot to a skeleton.
This common caterpillar will become
A butterfly named for Polyxena, youngest daughter of King Priam of Troy.
Ironic metaphor for beauty that comes from strife, or fluttering reminder:
Love for even the smallest miracle of life is the cure we must aim for?
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019
Wednesday, June 19, 2019
Slightly Subversive Social Justice Librarian
“When we identify where our privilege intersects with somebody else’s oppression, we’ll find our opportunities to make real change.” ― Ijeoma Oluo, So You Want to Talk About Race
SLIGHTLY SUBVERSIVE SOCIAL JUSTICE LIBRARIAN
I look up from the circulation desk when
the girls walk in wearing leggings, glittery t-shirts, and brightly colored hijab. We
make eye contact and I smile. Then they identify
where
we shelve the thick fantasy books by their favorite author, and our
brief moment of connection ends. The privilege
of my position as librarian intersects
with their positions as readers, but I can see with
a glance around the room that more than one somebody
believes that this space is not theirs. This kind of look or covert stare “elses”
the girls and establishes mainstream oppression
even in this openly accepting public space. When asked for my recommendations, we’ll
head into the stacks and just by chance, find
ourselves near the two fantasy readers asking them for their suggestions. Our
shared love of books provides all of these readers with opportunities
not only to meet each other between the pages, but to
make
real
human-to-human connections, which result in genuine change.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019
Thursday, June 13, 2019
To the Caterpillar
![]() |
Photo via Roads End Naturalist |
To the Caterpillar
I spotted the yellow dot of your egg on the dill.
Cutting a sprig,
I brought you in.
Daily, your egg darkened as you grew.
What once was a dot
is now the tiny dash of you.
Your life obeys the rules of geometry:
line follows point,
wings bring symmetry.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019
Wednesday, June 12, 2019
But Seven is a Prime Number
![]() |
via Unsplash |
But Seven is a Prime Number
I am odd.
I am the seven
in your twofoursixeightten.
Left out
unless I add to or subtract from myself
in ways that don't
feel right.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019
Thursday, June 6, 2019
Friday, May 17, 2019
To the Daisy
To the Daisy That Has Survived Even Though the Grounds Crew Mowed Down the School Land Lab Two Years Ago
Bloom!
No matter how low they mow you,
Bloom!
Show the world you won't be stopped:
Bloom!
Keep the memory of your former glory alive--
Bloom!
Send roots deep and runners long--
Bloom!
Bring joy to those who see your smiling face:
Bloom!
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019
Thursday, May 16, 2019
To the Sock in the Trash
To the Sock in the Trash
Just because you're worn out
doesn't mean you're a failure.
If it weren't for the holes in your sole and toe
how would we know
the measure of our steps,
the constant erosion
of time and motion?
You're not a failure, you're my hero.
You served from below:
gauging progress
never seeking promotion
the model of devotion.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2019
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