Tag Archives: Jenny Doughty

On Year 5: October’s Poems


I’ve been seeing Facebook memes about how October is so many people’s “favorite color.”  It seems to have taken the fancy of any number of poets, writing about the month, about the season, about things which are part of both.  Exploring the poems of October has been quite an interesting adventure.  One person in my …

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On The Poetry Fence


  At Acton Scott Museum and Working Farm, in Shropshire in the UK, the Poet in Residence this past year was Jean Atkin. She led groups–many of them children–to meet the farm in poetry, and chronicled her adventures here. One of her initiatives was The Poetry Fence, for which she solicited short pieces which evoked …

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On Year 4: May’s Poems


The homestretch, the final month of the school year.  It’s been wet and squelchy, unsettled, cold.  The kids have been antsy and bad-tempered.  I’ve tried to give them poems that provided something warm and uplifting.  I’m not sure I was always successful–and quite frankly, this has been a year where the students have been really …

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On Year 3: February’s Poems


This month I was ambivalent.  I wanted to read poems about love, after a fashion, because of Valentine’s Day.  But this February was also full of winter, full of snow, and so many snow poems presented themselves.  Thus, I waffled back and forth.  Top this all off with a healthy dose of restlessness, and there …

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On Year 3: October’s Poems


What an odd month!  It started out as Octoberish as they come, but ended with a hurricane that brought the temperatures up into the unseasonable 60’s–along with enough rain to flood the cellar, and the C wing in our school building.  Here it is, Halloween, and I am surrounded by high-school-aged ghouls…and in addition to …

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On Reading at Mayo Street Arts


It’s a church. At least it used to be. I hadn’t been to Mayo Street Arts, off the Franklin Arterial in Portland, ever.  Not even when the building was dedicated to St. Ansgar, the apostle of the north, and home to a parish of Danish Lutherans. Until the other night, of course, when Lori Desrosiers, …

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On January’s Poems


Back from vacation! The only boy in third period, when faced with Baron Wormser’s poem early in the month, demanded more snow poems.  One of the girls informed him that “those were for last month.”  He said he didn’t care; he liked snowmobiling.  Such is the logic of the 17-year-old mind some days. The reason …

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