 Today Karen at Karen Edmisten* will be hosting Poetry Friday. Please head there to see the goodness of our Poetry Friday Community. There's been quite a bit of chatter about the Covid-19 Vaccines. I don't recall a time that there has been more excitement over shots. And it feels like winning the lottery to get an appointment which I have today (which means I might get to sub in April). We moved last June. Two items that surfaced recently were my immunization cards for the Polio vaccine fifty-nine years ago. I have this glimmering of being in the big space that was the auditorium of my father's school, Clifton. We were given a sugar cube with the dose.  pokey-poke
hope on horizon two vaccines © jone rush macculloch (2021 draft)  Thanks to Ruth at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town for hosting Poetry Friday. She is sharing from a book that is on my list, Brading Sweetgrass. Every February, Laura Shovan invites writers to celebrate her birthday by writing poetry. There is a yearly theme. This year, it's "Bodies". These are some of the responses to prompts I've shared thus far.  I offered the prompt for February 6: my dog's eye.  February 9 is the anniversary Mom's passing.   Photo from a walk, March 2020 The emphasis for the daily prompts is to be writing, the daily practice of writing. There are days that the poems noodle around before landing on the paper.
 Poetry Friday roundup is at Molly Hogan at Nix the Comfort Zone. She has me thinking about an Artist’s Prayer. Her photos are stunning as is her words. An email from American Academy of Poets Educator Newsletter arrived in my mailbox today. It has several offerings for Black History Month. I discovered this one by Marilyn Nelson. Fitting as we are in the midst of vaccinations.
Making History Marilyn Nelson Blue and White Orlon Snowflake Sweater, Blue Snowpants, Red Galoshes —Smoky Hill AFB, Kansas, 1955 Somebody took a picture of a class standing in line to get polio shots, and published it in the Weekly Reader. We stood like that today. And it did hurt. Mrs. Liebel said we were Making History, but all I did was sqwunch up my eyes and wince. Making History takes more than standing in line believing little white lies about pain. Mama says First Negroes are History: First Negro Telephone Operator, First Negro Opera Singer At The Met, First Negro Pilots, First Supreme Court Judge. That lady in Montgomery just became a First by sqwunching up her eyes and sitting there. Copyright © 2014 by Marilyn Nelson. From Beloit Poetry Journal, Split This Rock Edition. Reprinted from Split This Rock’s The Quarry: A Social Justice Poetry Database. |
AuthorAll photos and poems in these blog posts are copyrighted to Jone Rush MacCulloch 2006- Present. Please do not copy, reprint or reproduce without written permission from me. 
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