Poetry Friday Roundup Is Here!

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Let's gather to honor "love as the poetry of the senses"!

(Honore de Balzac)

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To honor Valentine's Day, a love note to the rest of the year (Jo Lightfoot), I offer you my heartnotes to savor. I also invite you to create heartnotes / love notes to add to my Heartnotes Padlet for public viewing.

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lift up your heart

residing within the soul

wrap it in love

©CVarsalona, 2025

This heartnote is a Love's Message postcard from 1912. There is no message on the back, just an address. I created the haiku based on an inspirational thought: Love in all its complexity, is the ethereal beauty that resides within the human soul.

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The above image poem/ekphrastic poem came from nature's surprise as I walked out the door. Voltaire wrote, Love is a canvas furnished by nature and embroidered by imagination. The photo is a heartnote to winter on a FotoJet canvas. My imagination allowed me to meld the photo and word choices into another love message.

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"Love is the greatest refreshment in life." - Pablo Picasso

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May everyone enjoy the A Gift of Love postcard sent in 1911.

Love is magical

Gift of one heart to another

souls unveiled

©CVarsalona, 2025

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REMEMBER

This week life came full circle. Both a new birth and a passing from life occurred in my family. While contemplating how life meets at crossroads, I turned to poetry to let thoughts surface like spring blooms. Coincidentally, my friend Ramona Behnke wrote a post sharing Poet Laureate Joy Harjo's poem Remember. It touched me so much that it became a mentor text for a silent conversation poem between my 94-year-old uncle and me during his last days in hospice. Because I live in Virginia and he is in Central NY, I could not travel to his bedside. The poem became my way of honoring his life.

Joy Harjo has said, "Poetry is like singing on paper". I celebrate my Uncle John's life through verse with the hope that he is spiritually close by listening to the lines.

Remember. . .

Remember the beginning as your mother cradled you into this world.

Remember receiving your father's name.

Remember your patriotic duties during wartime.

Remember your return to civilian life and stepping into college and a new career.

Remember your flights around the globe.

Remember your devotion to family and faith.

Remember your heritage and the delicious meals your mother prepared.

Remember your challenges and joys.

Remember your independent spirit and your willingness to support others.

Remember your nimble fingers creating crosses made of palms.

Remember your niece holding your hand and your family sending thoughts and    

     prayers from a distance. 

Remember your brother and sisters who are waiting to embrace you in eternity.

Remember the Lord is with you in your silent moments.

Remember!

©CarolVarsalona, oldest niece, written during John's final days at Francis House, 2023

These poetic lines from Harjo's poem remind me of the immensity of the world, the possibilities it holds for each individual, and the celebration of life. 

Remember you are this universe and this

universe is you.

The above poem will be featured in my Uncle's funeral program and read by m eat the gravesite next week. Now, I offer this post for Poetry Friday at Patricia Franz's blog, Reverie. She is celebrating 40 years of marriage and sending Memorial Day weekend wishes to all. Thank you, Patricia for accepting my poetic offering so late.

My antique postcard above reminds me to fill this Memorial Day Weekend with praise for my uncle, a veteran of World War II who enlisted in the Marine Corps at a young age.

His memory and the memory of so many other veterans are remembered throughout this weekend. 

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Patricia Franz invites the Poetry Friday community to enjoy some poetry-bathing this weekend. I look forward to reading other poet friends' poetic offerings.

☆HAPPY POETRY FRIDAY☆

and

March Musings: Dazzling Winter Greetings, Day 4

Did you know that I am a delitologist?  I collect postcards from the turn of the 20th Century  when "postcard collecting caught the national eye." I enjoy the feel and look of postcards from the past. Some of mine are ornate and embossed without the year that the postcard was sent. Many have inspirational thoughts and lovely illustrations. All of my postcards are sent by women to their families in different towns. The wording is short and usually, a greeting or a short note.  All allow me to reflect on the lifestyle of the early 20th century. 

Recently, I added current poetry postcards sent by poet friends to my collection of paper ephemera. Please see below my new poetry postcards that will decorate my house during future winter seasons. Thank you, Gail Aldous. Linda Baie, Robyn Hood Black, Carol Labuzzetta, Jone Rush MacCulloch, Jone Rush MacCulloch, Linda Mitchell, Sarah Grace Tuttle, and Tabatha Yeatts for your inspirational postcards for 2022, the Year of the Tyger. Thanks also go out to Jone Rush MacCulloch for continuing the Victorian practice of exchanging postcards.  

Within the postcards sent to me, I found poetic lines that spoke to me. I delicately lifted lines and combined them with a few additions to create a new poem.

(Found lines from poetry friends are underlined below.)

Here's To Poetry Running Wild (Robyn) in 2022!

 Alive with wonder, (Jone)

Keenly see the future. (Carol L)

Blue skies smile at you. (Linda B)

Stillness deepens (Linda M),

indulging life layers. (Tabatha & Gail)

Arise, heart! (Tabatha)

Threads of moonlight glitter (Gail)

Soothe the frantic world. (Sarah)

Open wide. (Tabatha)

Aim for the sky.(Linda Bfrom Chandra Kochbar)

Summon your songs.(Tabatha)

Then, rest in the (Sarah)

purple shadows of night. (Sarah)

©CV, 2022, found poem

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I join two writing communities today:

Poetry Friday hosted by Australian poet/author, Kat Apel.

Two Writing Teachers 

A  Meeting Place for A World of Reflective Writers

Labor Day in Rockville Centre

Labor Day is always a festive holiday in my hometown. People celebrate with barbecues at the beach clubs or in their backyards. It is a time for families and friends to gather together, enjoy each other's company, and share remembrances of summer days. Since I live near the Long Island South Shore beaches, beaching is a topic of interest but the significance of Labor Day is usually not remarked upon so I decided to research the history. 

Each holiday or season I place antique postcards from my ephemera collection in the entranceway of my home as a decoration. Since I do not have a specific one for Labor Day, I searched the web and found the following image.

In 1894, Labor Day officially became a national holiday celebrating American workers and the labor movement. As the U.S. Department of Labor says, "It constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country." My grandparents, mother, and my husband's father were part of the workforce. I honor and celebrate their efforts. 

"Labour will refresh itself with hope."  

(a line from a vintage card)

One of my poet friends, Diane Mayr, wrote a blog post, "What Work Is," for Poetry Friday this week. You may be interested in reading the poem by Philip Levine that can be accessed  here.

On the beach of Coney Island (1901)

Parades and picnics have marked the passage of time since the turn of the 20th century. Beachgoers flock to the shore for the last days of summer vacation whether it is sunny or not, as noted by the above antique photo card. Beside Coney Island, Jones Beach that opened in 1929 is a popular place for beaching. 

While I thought I would not be a beachgoer today, my husband woke to the thought, "Let's go to the beach." Soon we will head out for the ritual trip to Point Lookout beach and then return to Rockville Centre for the annual Labor Day barbecue at the Rockville Links Club. Each year of my children's lives, we attended the festivities there. This year, my friends invited us to the barbecue that will bring back fond memories of the cotton candy cart, grilled hot dogs, an array of different foods, and a table of rich desserts. Enjoy your Labor Day holiday. I know I will.

All labor that uplifts humanity has dignity.

-Martin Luther King, Jr. 

Sweet Valentines

With Valentine's Day upon us, 

I send greetings to all in my writing community.

May Cupid pierce your heart with love!

Cupid certainly has pierced mine. 

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My layered valentine was inspired by early 20th century penny postcards in my ephemera collection.

I love to share the script on the back of my penny postcards.

Another penny postcard from turn of the last century
 

Grace must have been so happy with this penny postcard from her Papa.

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I had fun creating the valentine poem below from an art prompt provided by Diane Mayr in the 6th Annual February Daily Poem Project started by Laura Shovan. Perhaps, you will find this valentine humorous.

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It's Slice of Life Tuesday at Two Writing Teachers.

I am off to read what other slicers have written.

Postcard Poetry

At the turn of the 20th century, "post cards" were the rage. People would write lovely short notes to each other on beautifully decorated cards and send them by post as in the example below. 

The above "Post Card" is part of my ephemera collection and speaks of the value of reading poetry. When I was teaching reading to elementary children, I would share cards like the one above with my students who delighted in reading what people "in the old days" wrote to each other. 

Since I did not know what a magpie was, I researched the bird and found out the following. Magpies are:

• small to medium sized birds that have a long tail with black-and-white or brightly colored plumage
• known for their chattering
• live across the world
• symbols of good luck and good fortune in China and Korea 

To honor the tradition of the 20th PostCard, I wrote the following poetry postcard to my Twitter friend and host of Poetry Friday, Margaret Simon.

I am happy to see that Jone MacCulloch, another Poetry Friend friend, encourages her learners at Silver Star Elementary in Vancouver, Washington to continue the tradition of sending postcards through the Poetry Postcard Project. I was delighted to receive the poetry postcard below from 4th grader Lexi V.

If you feel creative, you might enjoy creating a poetry postcard like the one I composed above for my spring gallery, Spring's Seeds. The deadline to submit a digital composition is at the end of May. You can access the invitation and information here. 

Please visit the Poetry Friday Round-Up at Margaret Simon's blog  here.

Summer's Digital Inspirations

I have a fascination with ephemera, particularly postcards from the past that celebrate holidays. The one below is a compilation of various vintage postcard patterns that you can find here. 

Picture postcards were used to send greetings in the Victorian era and remained popular for decades. Postcards of tourist places found while traveling are throwbacks to the postcard era. Since I am almost ready to unveil my online global gallery of artistic expressions, Summer Splashings, I decided to honor a tradition of the past. You can see my new postcard greeting in the first image above and another one below. They are digital messages meant for all who celebrate the wonders of the summer season.

I received a warm response from connected colleagues across the globe when I sent out my invitation to the gallery. 

My love of design, color, and word weaving has inspired me to create a museum-like gallery walk for viewers. A certain energy flows through the gallery where you will find a fusion of art, music, technology, and poetic language. Hopefully, the experience will indulge your senses and reboot feelings of summertime joy. Stay tuned for news of the unveiling and in the meantime

 

Now turn your attention to DigiLit Sunday hosted by Margaret Simon for the latest happenings in the digital world of educators.

 

Easter's Promise

Original Easter Greeting from 1913

Easter Sunday dawn

Boldly proclaims renewal.

Spring’s path continues.

Haiku-iinspired Easter video created with Animoto


May the wonder of the Risen Lord 
enrich your faith,
and bring family close together.

This post is offered to two writing communities, DigiLit Sunday and #digipoetry, as part of my Poetry Parade for National Poetry Month 2015. Please visit both sites opened by Margaret Simon to read a variety of wonderful blogs and poetry.

  

Speaking of Freedom

A day in 1920 she landed on the shores of the United States with her first child. She traveled far from her homeland of Italy to greet her husband who already immigrated to America in hopes of finding a better life for his growing family. The strong woman with no knowledge of the English language met a land that was unknown and unfamiliar to her. This woman was my maternal grandmother.

Although this story may be a common one told by many families of immigrants, it was one carved into my etchbook of time and holds deep memories for me. It was a fateful day when Nonnie Rose traveled to a small city in central New York, Rome, to build a new life among other Italian immigrants. There in the same city, I was born decades later. As a small child, I became a regular summer visitor to Rome each summer. I grew up among a community of strong, Catholic immigrant women, listened to family stories, and heard countless messages of pride for being an American citizen. I grew to be a curious child, a learner, and a reader at the feet of the woman who could not speak or read English. 

What I remember most about those days were my grandmother's hands. They connected me to a lifetime of learning. Nonnie Rose's hands, rough from labor but gentle with touch, brought me each week to the library to collect books that would broaden my knowledge of life and history. Her touch lit my life as we walked and talked. It was her hands that molded the delicate cookies that graced her table or fashioned large honey dolls to be stored in a huge dark closet for later eating pleasure. It was her hands that showed me how to roll the clothes through an early dryer and hang them to dry with tall wooden clothespins on lines outside. Her hands tatted and grew a garden full of colorful roses, wonderfully scented flowers, and the biggest path of vegetables with a climbing vine, standing tall at the front, guarding the delicacies beyond. I observed, questioned, and sought further knowledge from this woman who had little education but a wealth of experience and a generous spirit. It was her aspiration for me to have a college education and a world of knowledge to absorb that guided me in later years.

Summer always reminds me of those summer days years ago that I spent playfully springing alongside Nonnie Rose as she worked, hoping that she would let me smell the flowers and roll the dough. "May I?" was a frequent question. My curiosity was always fostered. There was so much to learn and none of it seemed like work during those summer months. Snippets of "broken English" mixed with wisdom from age always slipped through our conversations. It may have been the actions that stayed with more than the words. I still recall my grandmother's primary thought, one comes to America to become an American and all that entailed. She and others in her community had a deep respect for American traditions while never letting go of their roots and smiles abounded when speaking about being an American. Although I did not realize at such a young age that I was part of a learning community, it existed in the kitchen of my grandmother who always rewarded a busy afternoon with a cookie, floral treat, or a walk to the drug store for a new edition of a favorite comic.

Recently on the July 4th holiday, I spent time rethinking the American experience. While gathering with friends and family, eating outdoors, and watching the Macy's fireworks display on TV, I was reminded of the quest for freedom that the immigrants sought. My grandmother yearned for educational enlightenment for me and rightfully so, I continue this desire. Her quest for freedom is the same that I and other educators bring to the classroom-the development of our learners to ultimately become knowledgeable citizens. 

As an aside, I stumbled upon a little known fact while writing these comments: Francis Bellamy, the author of the Pledge of Allegiance, is buried in Rome, New York. All of my years of traveling back to Rome, the city of my birth, never unearthed that information until now. Also, coincidental is the tweet from Bennett Ratliff, @BennettRatlif, that came across Twitter around the 4th of July. He mentioned celebrating Independence Day by showcasing one of his favorite skits, "Red Skeleton's Pledge of Allegiance." My grandmother would have enjoyed watching this skit and knowing that her hometown was honored as the burial place for Bellamy because she was fiercely proud of being an American in a land that afforded her opportunities. 

From my Ephemera Collection

FREEDOM is 

• Faithfully ours
• Real concept 
• Enduring truth
• Everlasting mindset
• Democratic right
• Owned by immigrants 
• Magnificent embodiment of the pursuit of life, liberty, happiness

Nonnie Rose would appreciate this bulleted poem about a concept she held dear to her heart.

For educators like me, freedom signifies hope, optimism, and the American dream that all our students become successful, lifelong learners and productive citizens of the future, able to read with understanding, write with depth, clarity and a distinct point of view, solve problems, be creative in thought and actions, and make sound decisions.