“Give us a true truth.”
—Dee, Lyngblomsten Care Center resident and APP-MN participant with late-stage memory loss
Let the Rain
—after Langston Hughes
Let the rain kiss racism so it will disappear
Let the rain kiss my sister so she will listen better
Let the rain kiss the ocean so it will be clean
Let the rain kiss the turtles so the straws get out of noses
Let the rain kiss all the little critters so they become normal
Let the rain kiss the hate, turning it to kindness
Let the rain kiss living things going extinct
Let the rain kiss small sailboats on the lake so it cleans the sailors and crew
Let the rain kiss everyone with dementia so they remember everything again
Let the rain kiss humanity so we have compassion for every person’s life experiences
By the Intergenerational Poets of the Bloomington Schools’ Summer Galaxy Program and Meadow Woods Assisted Living
in a session led by Julie Landsman at Martin Luther, Bloomington, August 1, 2019
My Color
My color wants to shine in the sky
My color wants to darken the sky
My color wants to sing
My color wants to go to sleep
My color wants to go to the island
My color wants to swim
My color wants to go golfing
My color says blue sky
My color wants to move
By the Intergenerational Poets of Ridges Child Care and Arbor Lane Memory Care
in a session led by Rachel Moritz at Ebenezer Ridges, Burnsville, April 12, 2019
Sounds Around Us
All poetry is rhythm
You guys have rhythm
Sound of the trumpet
And the grinding frog
Pebbles down the rain stick
Plop plop plop of rain and hail
Bells go jing a ling a linga
The zither sounds like chimes
The pop of a volcano
Splat of a pie falling on the floor
Louie’s laugh is like music
Music is the sound of happiness
By the Intergenerational Poets of Ridges Child Care and Arbors at Ridges Assisted Living
in a session led by Diane Jarvenpa at Ebenezer Ridges, Burnsville, March 25, 2019
El Mundo
Seeds of love!
I used to do a lot of that.
Plant tomatoes,
plant yams,
plant dasheen,
plant potato.
I love squash.
You’ve got to peel it
to cook it.
A whole bunch of seeds.
When you see it start to grow,
it feels good.
You eat it,
you water it,
you grow it.
Dasheen tastes better
than yam
to me.
Put the peas in the ground,
not too deep,
but make sure you sprinkle water
every morning.
And it start to come up,
and say good morning!
Tie it up,
shake it,
then you got a lot of music!
Grow, seed,
grow, grow, grow!
Swim, swim, swim!
Grow big,
big as a frog—
grow tall,
tall as a beetle!
You never saw a breadfruit tree?
That’s a big tree!
Grow flowers,
oranges,
trees,
flowers of many colors.
Plant a rose garden;
plant food.
All the plants have a name,
like yam,
dasheen,
dhaniya,
potato.
Plant tomatoes!
Green pear,
aguacate.
Sugarcane,
watermelon.
Grow more bushes around homes.
Plant a lot of peas,
potato,
dasheen,
yam.
Yam grow a little bigger
than a potato.
Trees—oh, yes!
I love to see them grow.
A little bit of mango.
And green beans!
By the Poets of Ebenezer Care Center’s Memory Care in a session led by Zoë Bird, Minneapolis, April 26, 2019
Where I Am From: Take 1
We are from chicken and dumplings, German cooking, frog legs, collard greens, turnips
We are from the barn where the cows lived, from ham, meat and potatoes
We are from raising our own food
We are from fried chicken, chitlins, hot biscuits, chocolate fudge, coconut cake
Strudel, gingerbread, buttermilk, cheesecake, banana pudding, Spanish rice
Fried fish, muttle fish, corn, string beans
We are from blues, jazz, gospel
We are from sleeping songs, lullabies
We are from hearing: water from a spring, cars, airplanes, children playing
Drag racing, polka dancing, classical music—German music
We are from drinking songs
Once my mother put me on the table with a drink of coffee and some milk and some bread and butter, while she worked
We are from Country Western music, the sound of angry parents
From Elvis Presley: Ain't nothin’ but a hound dog!
We are from gospel in church and gospel at home
I took piano lessons—played God Bless America
We are from harmonica, guitar, banjo piano, singing in the choir
I heard Mahalia Jackson once
We are from music on 78s, 33s, 45s
Saturday morning was cleaning morning—we could bebop around then
My son gave me Schubert to play on a compact disc
We are from Chicago; Atlanta, Georgia; Grand Forks; Missouri; Pennsylvania; Madison, Wisconsin; Berlin, Vienna
My father was arrested in Kristallnacht and Eichmann told him he would die anyway so he would not waste a bullet on him
We are from the family together, barbecue, and from lots of snow
We are from hog killing and butchering
We are from dancing, going to Marigolds to dance, roller gardens, ice skating on Sundays
We are from the ROTC dancing, from parties on a yacht, from a milk dairy farm
From car fumes and Mexican food…
We are from skating in Vienna, the smell of pine trees, lilac bushes
The smell of chicken farms, pig farms—my aunt always said about the pig farm: Smell the money!
We are from city smells, from the horses, from streets where restaurants give out Mexican food smells
We are from a time when women in the house wore aprons
My husband wears an apron when he eats to keep his shirts clean
My father went to school in the Ukraine, where the friend he studied with went on to win a Nobel prize
I was in Berlin from the beginning to the end of WWII
I am from picking cotton
By the Poets of Eastside Neighborhood Services' Friendship Center Adult Day in a session led by Julie Landsman, Minneapolis, May, 2017
Ode to the Owl
or The Morning Magician
O barred owl screeching in the night,
you make us feel like we
should take flight. O barred owl
screeching, you’re all right.
Get a better squeak, be a little less
noisy. O barred owl, what are the spots
on your back? Have you lost track?
You’re far from home.
O barred owl screeching
in the night, as you sing your song
of dark delight. Come more often,
will you please?
Your noise keeps us awake,
so we can’t sleep.
O barred owl screeching
in the night, what treats out there
bring you delight? What mice,
what moles, what other prey?
With your beak, we say a prayer.
Please bless us with your stay.
By the Poets of VOAMN's Southwest Senior Center in a session led by Rachel Moritz, Minneapolis, April 27, 2017
The World We Draw
Green bird,
Rice pounder,
Helicopter,
Poisonous insect that lives
On the bamboo leaf.
Corn plants,
Bamboo reed,
Green trees and mountains.
Red birds with tree,
A red sun
And a green sun,
Roots of the trees are strong.
If I had my own house it would look like this:
yellow and orange—Mai’s house,
The horse is my favorite animal,
The blue bird is from my imagination,
Portrait of Chong’s mother Xue,
Mother and daughter together,
The sun shines onto the earth,
I like to plant flowers,
I like birds,
Tiger is the enemy–keep away!
Escaping the war
crossing the Mekong River into Thailand,
Self-portrait with my heart.
Hmong elder poets describing their artwork in a session with Diane Jarvenpa at Park Elder Center's Hmong Adult Day Program
Minneapolis, January 17, 2017