#8 in the Poetry Potluck Series, celebrating National Poetry Month 2012.
Robyn with her office cat, May, who’s helping her celebrate the arrival of her contributor copies of THE ARROW FINDS ITS MARK (Roaring Brook, 2012).
Awrrrroooooo!
Children’s poet and author Robyn Hood Black is here! She’s one of several newish online friends I’ve met through Poetry Friday, and I have so enjoyed visiting her blog Read, Write,Howlevery week to see just what this multi-talented, animal-loving gal is up to.
Will she post an original haiku or a piece of her beautiful artwork? Will she share pictures of the wolves she cavorts with as a volunteer for a nearby wildlife preserve, or maybe poetry and drawings created by some of the many children she’s met through school visits and community presentations? No matter what she does, Robyn’s passion always shines through.
Like the best of potluck guests, Robyn’s brought along both grog and grub — a previously unpublished, bewitchingly amusing, finely tuned recipe poem, and a batch of her newly renamed Oatmeal Bars (I am understandably highly partial to these). She also created a gorgeous relief print to go with her poem. Lots to savor here, so don your black bibs and enjoy every delectable word and crumb!
Robin: My brother Mike and I used to transform our circa-1970 ranch house into a haunted house each Halloween — we charged admission and everything. We had a spooky secret passage in a tunnel under his built-in bed, bowls of peeled grape eyeballs on the bathroom counter, headless people sitting at the dining room table — the whole nine yards. I was usually a black cat or something, but Mike, who grew up to be an engineer, was a haunted house himself one year. Very impressive.
The idea for this poem came to me one day earlier this year when I was out walking the dog — a crow was cawing above us, and I just started thinking of tangible and intangible things — in black and white — that might go into a “spooky brew.”
#9 in the Poetry Potluck Series, celebrating National Poetry Month 2012.
Poetry is the home for all my yearnings each poem a separate room where wandering words find a cool bed, a bowl of soup
where names of trees and cities and people I know who want to know knock on doors, ring bells, invite me in for coffee and a rhyme
~ from “Homeroom” by Kathi Appelt (Poems from Homeroom: A Writer’s Place to Start, Henry Holt, 2002).
I’m thrilled and honored to welcome multiple award-winning poet and author Kathi Appelt to our Potluck today. As you can see by the opening stanzas of “Homeroom,” Kathi is a poet after my own heart.
A good poem makes us feel as though we’ve come home — to our own doubts, sorrows, joys, fears, wonder, gratitude. There is nothing quite like a room of carefully arranged words that invites you in for a quick visit, only to inhabit your soul forever.
I love the poem Kathi’s brought today, not only because it’s about pie — but because of its transcendent beauty. It speaks of that quiet inner space where love, memory, and longing converge. How would you build a room strong yet gentle enough to hold a fleeting moment in time? This poem is a flutter in the heart, a sweet reflection hovering in our imaginations.
Emma on her wedding day.
Kathi: I adored my husband’s grandmother, Emma. She was a wonderful cook, and her pecan pies were a staple of our holidays. Right after we were married, she wrote down her recipe for me, and I’ve had it ever since. Several years after she passed away, at the age of 96, I found myself baking her pies for Thanksgiving. Seeing her handwriting, with the faded ink, made me want to “toast” her in the best way I knew — with a poem.
via Dan’s Photo Art
Pecan Pie
Emma was my grandmother too, tied through wedding vows to her youngest grandson my one true love. On her back porch, she held my hands and sang ancient nursery rhymes in German, her very first tongue. The songs, her soft, steady voice, called up hummingbirds hovering just above pots of lantana and marigolds. Now what’s left is a scrap of paper, the whispy blue ink turned brown, her recipe for pecan pie. Each time I fold in the butter, chop the pecans, measure the light brown sugar, same shade as the ink, she holds my hands, hums an old tune about the little girl down the lane. My kitchen heats up.
Next thing I know, there are hummingbirds. A slice of pie, a cup of coffee, a language I don’t know, but still it comes to me. We hover there, our tiny wings, our rapid hearts, our solitary belief in sugar and pecans.
Thanksgiving, 2002 Copyright 2012 Kathi Appelt. All rights reserved.
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I can’t even imagine the fall holidays without baking one of Emma’s pecan pies. And whenever I bake one, I feel like Emma is right there in the room with me. It’s a sweet feeling, like I have an angel on my shoulder. I make these pies every year for Christmas and Thanksgiving.
via LOL
Southern Pecan Pie
1 cup light brown sugar (packed) 1/2 cup granulated white sugar 1 tablespoon flour 2 tablespoons milk 2 eggs 1 teaspoon vanilla 1/2 cup butter (stick) melted 1 cup pecans, chopped 1 unbaked pie shell
Mix sugars and flour, beat in thoroughly, eggs, milk, vanilla, butter. Fold in nuts. Pour into pie shell. Bake 40 to 50 minutes in 350 degree oven.
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Kathi Appelt is the award-winning author of more than thirty books for children and young adults. Her picture book, MISS LADY BIRD’S WILDFLOWERS: HOW A FIRST LADY CHANGED AMERICA (HarperCollins, 2005) was given the “Growing Good Kids Award for Excellence in Children’s Literature.” In 2003 Appelt won the Irma and Simon Black Award for Excellence in Children’s Literature, given by the Bank Street College of Education, for her picture book BUBBA AND BEAU, BEST FRIENDS (Harcourt Brace, 2002). Her memoir, MY FATHER’S SUMMERS (Henry Holt, 2004) won the Paterson Prize for Young Adult Poetry.
Her first novel, THE UNDERNEATH, a haunting story of love and survival in the pine forests of East Texas, has been described by reviewers as a “classic.” It was named a National Book Award Finalist, a Newbery Honor Book, and most recently awarded the PEN USA Literature for Children Award.
Ms. Appelt was presented with the A.C. Greene Award by the Friends of Abilene Public Library, which named her a “Texas Distinguished Author.”
In addition to writing, Ms. Appelt is on the faculty in the Masters of Creative Writing for Children and Young Adults at Vermont College of Fine Arts.
Her newest book is KEEPER, published by Atheneum, 2010.
She and her husband Ken live in College Station, TX with four adorable cats, Django, Peach, Hoss and Jazz. They are the parents of two even more adorable sons, Jacob and Cooper, musicians who both play the double bass. For more information, check her website: www.kathiappelt.com.
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SURPRISE DOOR PRIZE!
Kathi has generously offered to send one lucky reader an autographed copy of her beautiful picture book, My Father’s House, illustrated by Raul Colon, published by Viking (2007).
For a chance to win, please leave a comment at this post no later than 12 noon (EDT) Saturday, April 14, 2012. Winner will be announced on Sunday, April 15th, along with the other door prize winners.
This post has been linked to Beth Fish Read’s Weekend Cooking, where all are invited to share food related posts (fiction/nonfiction/cookbook/movie reviews, photos, musings, recipes, etc.).
#7 in the Poetry Potluck Series, celebrating National Poetry Month 2012.
Hey, Poetry Friends – You’ve got mail!
I’m pretty sure there’s nothing children’s writer Martha Calderaro would rather do for Poetry Month than visit your neighborhood to drop a freshly penned poem in each and every mailbox. Imagine finding a love sonnet, a bawdy limerick, an inspirational verse, a clever bit of wordplay or calming lyric nestled among the bills and bank statements!
Since this isn’t physically possible, lovely Martha is doing the next best thing: she’s written a poem especially for the Potluck, a humorous flight of fancy that doubles as a tribute to a vanishing breed of messengers.
Daisy, Martha’s Muse: “Pat me. You know you want to.”
She’s also brought along her adorable six-month-old Newfoundland pup, Daisy, who was there when inspiration struck for today’s poem. It sounds like in Martha’s neighborhood, dogs wax poetic rather than chase after the mailman. We’re doubly glad Martha’s here today, cause her special delivery also includes a yummy recipe straight from the Muffin Man. ☺
#4 in the Poetry Potluck Series, celebrating National Poetry Month 2012.
Helen in San Antonio, TX
It only happens once in a great while. You read something that totally takes the top of your head off and leaves you breathless with its brilliance.
This was my experience when I read Helen Frost’s latest novel-in-verse, Hidden (FSG, 2011), which along with her other award winning books (Crossing Stones, Keesha’s House, DiamondWillow), sets the gold standard for excellence in this genre. I wholly agree with Anita Silvey, who said in her Hidden review at The Children’s Book-a-Day Almanac: “For my taste, Helen Frost has emerged as our greatest living craftsperson of verse novels.” Helen’s books have received many prestigious awards, including a Printz Honor and four Lee Bennett Hopkins Awards or honors for Children’s Poetry, the most recent of which is a 2012 Lee Bennett Hopkins Honor for Hidden.
I’m beyond thrilled that Helen agreed to join us for the Potluck this year. She’s sharing a previously unpublished poem where oatmeal bread saves the day, along with the recipe and wonderful photos representing four generations in her family who have baked the bread. Could there be a more delicious legacy?
“A hundred hearts would be too few to carry all my love for you.” ~ Anonymous
The bottom nearly fell out of my world when Sir Paul, my eternal Valentine, married that Nancy woman recently.
I know. She’s rich, slender and probably has her perky moments, but the important question is, Can she bake a good pie?
I am crushed Macca didn’t even think to call and tell me. Here I’ve been his love slave loyal true-blue fan for over 40 years (I first heard “She Loves You” in utero :)), and nary a word. Now that he’s got a new Honey Pie, what am I to do?
Bake! Bake deep, rich, decadent, devil-may-care this will make me forget all about him Bake. Take no prisoners Bake. And to get me through Valentine’s Day, only chocolate will do.
I considered my options — Pioneer Woman’s French Silk Pie? Saveur’s Thin Edge of the Wedge Chocolate Pudding or Molten Chocolate Cake? I could have gone all retro and dug out my old Midnight Chocolate Cake recipe (so good, diehard football fans actually stopped watching the 1992 Superbowl game to eat it). And I hadn’t made my famous Chocolate Cheesecake in a long, long time.
I’m thrilled and honored to welcome multiple award-winning poet and author 
I know. She’s rich, slender and probably has her perky moments, but the important question is, Can she bake a good pie?
Jama's Alphabet Soup 