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Young Poets

12/1/2019

 
LIMBERLOST VIEWS
~Inspired by Bill Hubbard's Photographs

Oriole
Little and yellow
mindful but lost
gliding through the clouds

By Lydia Shaffer
        * * *
Swan on the lake
White, curved neck
Ice floats by

By Callie Shaffer
        * * *
Monkey cry, a flash of red
Swooping through the trees
Pileated woodpecker

By Simon Brainerd
       * * * 
The Old Schoolhouse
crumbling walls
wood patched windows
I stand
empty
floor covered in greens
rotting wood planks
empty
I stand

By Emily Scase
      * * * 
Tiger swallowtail on
the purple flower
smelling the butterfly bush.

By Ella Shaffer
      * * * 
Bald Eagle
Bald Eagle creeped
feathers shadowed, banana nose
Perched on leaning tree

By Allisyn Scase
      * *  *
Swoop, glide, float
lovely white feathers
Tundra swan afloat

By Kaity Scase
       * * *
   The Sunset
Bright and bold
Orange and blue
Heavenly sunset to look to

By Abby Waymire
          * * *
   Cabin in the Dusk
As the lights flicker
at night the owl watches
them while they sleep

By Josiah Scase 


TWELVE SNAPSHOTS OF LIMBERLOST CABIN

I remember the limestone fence
traveling around the house---
dirty, unique, and weird
to the human eye
but to cute, crawling creatures
it's a gateway to a world full of love.
                    * * *
I remember the old wood smoker---
like a small red fire extinguisher
or a red cylinder.
                   * * *
I remember the conservatory's
colossal windowpanes
with ferns and fluttering movement
all about.
                    * * * 
I remember pink fragrant flowers
and,through the window, a tall oak tree.
                    * * *
I remember arrowheads painting
pictures of the past. 
                    * * *
I remember skillful ceilings, artistic
designs leaping out of placid plaster.
                    * * *
I remember the elegant moths
of gorgeous colors
and delicate wings.
                    * * *
I remember the luna moth
captured in the moment 
like a photograph of nature.
                    * * * 
I remember the pictures of Gene,
Jeannette, and Charles, close family
frozen in time.
                    * * *
I remember Gene's painting
of blue irises where guests 
would slumber when visiting.
                    * * *
I remember the glass doll rocking
near the fireplace in the sitting room.
                    * * *
I remember stories
like moths tucked into cocoons
waiting to hatch.

Collaborative Poem from Participants
In Shari Wagner's November 13 2019 
Workshop for Kids "At Limberlost Cabin"


DAUGHTER OF MRS. PORTER

I remember the glass doll
rocking by the fireplace
in the sitting room.

I remember the playhouse
under the porch floor
sipping on tea in cups.

I remember Mom painting
watercolor pictures of caterpillars crawling through
the swampy grass.

I remember a screechy owl
flying through the window
to see the candle.

I was Jeannette.

By Ella Shaffer


THE SCREECH OWL

I remember. 
I heard Gene talking to me in the midst of the night.
I thought about going in or not. Later I glided
softly though the window. I stared at the candle.
I realized I was trapped! Then in the morning
Gene took a picture of me while I was sleeping.

By Josiah Scase


FREEDOM

I am ready to get out.
My legs squishing together.
My wings aching to be free.
I started to scratch.
It feels as if a lifetime has passed.
I am ready to breathe.
Emerging
I am greeted by flashing lights.
And two round eyes.

By Lydia Shaffer


 THE SURGEON'S SWORD

I am old, I am worn, I am blunt.
I am guilty.

As I gaze from my mantel, I begin to dull.
Am I guilty?
It becomes official,
The red stain, though washed off,
Lingers.

By Simon Brainerd


THE PIANO

Once, I was beautiful. My black and white dress shone
like the sun, reflecting off a lake. The young ones banged on me,
producing imperfect chords. Soon, the banging became music.
I sang the same songs. Christmastime was my favorite season.
I sang "Jungle Bells," "Silent Night," and "Away in a Manger."
Then, one by one, the little ones grew up and moved away.
I was alone in the house. Now, my only companions are the mice.
My once radiant dress now faded and dirty. My once beautiful voice
now out of tune. And yet, though my pedals are broken
and my spirit crushed, the memories of happier times live on. 

By Callie Shaffer

THE MOTH

I remember when I was free
Flying through the night
No worries, carefree
But now I'm trapped 
Trapped under a glass panel
My color slowly fading 
My beauty still there but quickly disintegrating
I have been trapped for so many years
Just staring.

By Abby Waymire


MIGHTIEST OF SWORDS

Cabin in the wild swamp
Birds calling from the tree
Take the brick path to the cabin
See.
The rusted Civil War sword
Sitting on the mantle of the old brick fireplace
Look closely at the blade
Noting the memory of Charles D. Porter's dad
A Union Captain, a surgeon
Feel the symbolic, sharp, sword
Marking the furnace with self-respect
Peace.
Why leave a sword for us?
What does it mark?
Leaders become great not because of heir power but 
Because of their ability to empower others.
A leader is one who knows the way
goes the way
Shows the way.

By Allisyn Scase


THE GUARDIAN

As I lay against the wall
I hear laughter traveling through the house
I see guests come and go
I watch over the sleeping body that lay in bed
The restless nights and calm ones
I saw them admire me, and I wonder if some fear me
I watch the humans put on their riches
The owls on the headboard stare at me
The moth lay between the owls in sleep
I feel like the guardian of the room

By Kaitlyn Scase
Picture
Picture
Picture

November Workshop

12/1/2019

 
INVITATION TO LIMBERLOST CABIN
   ~In memory of Gene Stratton-Porter
 
Smell the mustiness of books,
their brittle, coffee-stained pages.

Curl up on a settee to hear
the crackle of fire, the warmth

of Gene's words. See the blue heron's 
marble glare, and the golden eagle's

regal stature and talons. Look
at the porcelain doll holding memories

of Jeannette. Come examine the moths
trapped under glass--touch their tales

and disintegrating beauty. Visit
the kitchen where Gene wore a canvas

apron to dip photographs in the flash pan
of a turkey platter. Savor the story

of Gene hooting like a screech owl
and the bird gliding to the candle.

Taste oyster stew and table laughter
as Major, perched on a chair, clenched

an oyster in his claw. As you leave,
listen to the creaking wood floor.

Take with you the desire to read
Gene's books and the inspiration

to write a story, like a cabin
with many windows.

Collaborative Poem from Participants 
in Shari Wagner's November 13 2019 Workshop for Kids
​"At Limberlost Cabin"
Picture
Picture

    Author

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