The challenge was to use the phrase, "It was all my fault" (from THE CREATIVITY PROJECT) to inspire a poem. Joyce Sidman’s book DEAR ACORN (LOVE, OAK), which sits at the end of my desk, gave me my entry point. That book, plus some recent events in my garden.
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Today’s poem is pure play! I’m reading Ada Limón’s new collection, STARTLEMENT: NEW AND SELECTED POEMS, and I was taken by the first line of the poem “Prologue: This Big Fake World.” I used it as my first line and went from there. When the lines started to rhyme, I leaned into it and had fun.
Last Tuesday, we watched “Mary Oliver: Saved By the Beauty of the World,” an American Masters program on PBS. For the first time ever, I watched TV with my notebook open in front of me, taking notes. It was touching to see so many pictures of her young, wide open face. And the lineup of celebrities who helped pay tribute! Stephen Colbert, Ada Limón, Oprah, Jason Reynolds…wow.
Looking back on my notes, I realized that the were enough turns (or segments) in Mary Oliver’s life for a haiku sonnet: four 5-7-5 haiku ending with one 5 or 7 syllable couplet. And so a new form is born: the biographical haiku sonnet! My poem goes from childhood, to teen years, to adulthood. Next comes the death of her beloved, Molly Malone Cook, and Mary Oliver gets the last word with a line from her poem, “Wild Geese.”
Goodbye Iris
Mom’s iris thrived
in the dry
Eastern Colorado climate.
Here,
I fear,
they won’t survive.
This low spot
is the plot
with sun
but it floods.
Their feet stay wet
and rot.
Nothing
and no one
lasts forever.
We must adapt
when it no longer works
to persevere.
I hope she would understand –
I tried.
And though not with iris
there are a thousand
other ways
I keep her memory alive.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2026 draft
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This poem is a 7-7-7-7 poem: 7th book on my shelf (Amanda Gorman's CALL US WHAT WE CARRY), turned to the 7th page, using the 7th line to begin a 7-line poem.
Summer Triptych – For the Teachers
I.
Freedom is the classroom door closed and locked.
Shelves are covered with craft paper,
desk drawers are perhaps organized
or else abandoned in clutter.
It can all
wait.
II.
A black swallowtail dips
to the dill
time shifts
from calendar and clock
to caterpillar and bloom.
III.
Chicory appears
along roadsides and railroads:
blue brackets
that begin and end
this season of necessary
loosening.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2026
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It is with relief that this NPM comes to a close. I've learned lots about writing poetry this month. There is power in working the same form day after day. You go deep and learn it well. You start to feel it in your bones, or in my case, start to speak in three syllable chunks. Similarly, there is power in trying to put big ideas into small containers. Synonyms were my friend, I learned to work the titles, and every now and then I got a rush of joy when I stuck a landing. Brevity was both a bane and a joy. I'm definitely ready to use more words and write more actual POETRY.
I also learned lots from reading the news every day. First of all, journalists are amazing. The number and variety of stories is endless. Bad news is way more relentless than my previous glances at headlines revealed. But there is also always good news to be found. It pays to be patient because things change with about the same frequency as they erupt. When all else fails, looking out the window or walking in the garden is the perfect antidote. Even just the act of making something every day and showing up with it in public helped put the news into perspective.
Art matters.
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“The president said he pulled his team from the flight shortly before takeoff,
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