In this video clip, I talk about an important discovery I made while writing
my YA novel Also Known As Rowan Pohi:

https://asuonline.wistia.com/medias/yrg2i69ckb

Writing Habits

What are some helpful habits I’ve developed as a writer?

Check out this short video clip:

https://asuonline.wistia.com/medias/8edcvoppew

How do writers find our material?

Check out this two-minute video clip

where I talk about where I find my

stories.

https://asuonline.wistia.com/medias/u8k598wnlz

Where Can You Find A New Nose?

Where Can You Find A New Nose?

                                                  by Ralph Fletcher

If you want a new mouth

Check the mouth of a cave.

If you want some new curls

Check the curl of a wave.

If you’re looking for hands

Try the hands of a watch.

But where can you find a new nose, a new nose?

Who knows where to find a new nose?

Do you need a fresh face?

Try the front of a clock.

Would you like a new lip?

Try the top of a cup.

There’s a nice soft shoulder

On the edge of the road.

But where can you find a new nose, a new nose?

Who knows where to find a new nose?

You can find a new tongue

Tucked inside your shoe.

You will find extra teeth

On the next saw you use.

There are plenty of ears

In a tall field of corn.

But where can you find a new nose, a new nose?

Who knows where to find a new nose?

Skipping Stones

Skipping Stones

Dad skips breakfast

Elizabeth skips rope

I skip stones

George skipped fourth grade

Brian skipped out of school

I skip stones

Flat stones sharp stones

Skinny as potato chips

          ing            wrin

Kick           up                   kles

          the                   smooooooth

on              glass                                  lake

                                      from Water Planet

Family Photo

Family Photo

One last picture

before we head off

in different directions.

One last group shot of

all of us, smirking,

with rabbit ears.

Three generations:

kids on shoulders,

a baby cousin in my lap.

And in the middle

Grandma and Grandpa

who started all this.

We’re all ripples in a pond

spreading out

from a stone they threw.

from Relatively Speaking: Poems About Family

Bad Weather

Bad Weather

They’re predicting a big term paper

due to arrive on Monday morning.

Tuesday the forecast looks bad:

intense DOL and grammar drills.

Wednesday will be a scorcher

when the state writing test arrives.

Thursday there’s a high probability

of five-paragraph essays.

Friday should bring some relief

when scattered poetry blows in.

                  from A Writing Kind of Day

First Kiss

First Kiss

I’ll never forget

that empty barn

smell of dry hay

those long columns

of dusty light

for one whole minute

you and I breathed

the same breath

      from I Am Wings: Poems About Love

Scary Poem

Scary Poem

This poem frightens me

from the first simile.

Each metaphor

strikes fear to my core.

I’m deeply disturbed

by one evil verb.

The rhymes of this verse

make me fear the worst.

No use pretending…

I’m dreading the ending.

         from Crawl Space: Poems About Scary Things

This Is Not A Love Poem

This Is Not A Love Poem

This is not a love poem no way

you need big words for that

like luminous and eternity

you need lots of serious rhyme

maybe even iambic pentameter

you need merciless stars

deserts on moonless nights

foamy surf on gusty beaches

you need to get smashed

into such tiny fragments

you can use only the small i

when you write

i love you

     from Buried Alive: The Elements of Love

myriad

myriad

I’ve learned a new word

(myriad: many, countless)

and fly it like a new kite

when I hike these woods

           myriad tiny twigs

           myriad swollen buds

           myriad insects stirring

           beneath the muddy earth

from Ordinary Things: Poems From a Walk in Early Spring

Weeds

          

      Weeds             

                                     by Ralph Fletcher

     

         Weeds in the sunlight,
        swaying in the breeze.

        Weeds pollinated by
        hordes of hungry bees.

        Weeds softly whispering,
        spilling secret seeds.

        Weeds multiplying:
        weeds, weeds, weeds. 

 

        Dandelion, ragweed,
        Queen Anne’s lace.

        Weeds in my dreams,
        weeds in outer space.

        Weeds on vacation
        but more staying home.

        Sneaky little weedlings
        sprouting in this poem!

Tapeworm

Tapeworm

I don’t mind snakes

or wriggling worms

though there is one critter

that makes me squirm.

In your intestine

the tapeworm waits

and eats the food

fresh off your plate.

No need to hunt—

it takes your food

and steals the meat

that you just chewed.

                               

Tucked in your gut

it eats and eats;

tapeworms can grow

to fifty feet!

Most snakes are cool

and worms, no doubt,

but tapeworms

I could live without.

 

           from Crawl Space: Poems About Scary Things

Shaky Reassurances

Shaky Reassurances

What’s that mysterious knock?

It must be the grandfather’s

clock.

Did you hear that twig snapping?

Must be a branch on the window,

tapping.

I heard a soft scream or a howl.

Please tell me it’s only an

owl.

The night sky has turned on the rain

but how do I turn off my

brain?

from Crawl Space: Poems About Scary Things

My Updated Speaking Schedule

 

Writing Teachers! I just updated my speaking schedule for the rest of this school year. If you’re interested, and want to see if I'll be in your area, go to:

 www.ralphfletcher.com 

Then click on the Events page.

Owl Pellets

Owl Pellets

                           by Ralph Fletcher        

A month ago

in biology lab

you sat close to me

knee touching mine

your sweet smell

almost drowning out

the formaldehyde stink

which crinkled up

your nose

while I dissected

our fetal pig.

Now I take apart

this owl pellet

small bag that holds

skin and hair and bones

little skeletons

what the owl ate

but couldn’t digest

and coughed back up.

You sit with Jon Fox

ignore me completely

laugh at his dumb jokes

let your head fall onto

his bony shoulder

while I attempt

to piece together

with trembling hands

the tiny bones

of a baby snake.

Certain things

are just about

impossible

to swallow.

      from I Am Wings: Poems About Love

Undecided

Undecided

The sun sprays

summery light

but wind speaks

with winter’s tongue.

The pond reflects

so much blue

I can’t quite decide

whether it’s the sky

using the pond

as a mirror

or the pond wearing

a bracelet of sky.

 from Ordinary Things: Poems from a Walk in Early Spring

Tumbleweeds

Tumbleweeds

You see them in old Westerns,

tumbleweeds

blowing across a dusty road.

Their roots aren’t planted in soil

but curled up so they roll along

wherever the wind might take them.

If we move away from here,

I won’t be from Marshfield

or from Massachusetts.

I won’t be from anywhere—

         just a tumbleweed

                  blowing across a dusty road.

                                       from Moving Day: Poems about Moving

The Bravest Deed

    The Bravest Deed

     I’m shopping with Mom

     at the supermarket

     and we see a woman

     yelling at her kid

     who looks about three or four.

     She grabs the girl’s arm

     smacks her on the bottom

     BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!        

     about ten times, hard, then

     CRACK! across the girl’s face.

    The girl is screaming

     and the lady gets ready

     to smack her again

     but all of a sudden Mom

     sort of steps between them

     and asks: Is everything okay?

     You’re having a hard time,

     looks like. I remember…

     Mom points at me, laughing,

     actually calms the lady down,

     with that girl still sniffling,

     and me standing there hoping

     no one will notice my

     trembling hands.

        from Relatively Speaking: Poems About Family

forget-me-not

forget-me-not

on Grandma’s coffin

a single blossom

forget-me-not

as if I could

The Man-Cloud

The Man-Cloud

In the buzzing morning meadow

when the sun was not yet high

I thought I saw a man-cloud

walking in the sky.

My brother saw it differently;

he told me with a laugh

that what he saw instead

was an ice-skating giraffe!

“Can’t you see his long legs gliding?

Look close you’ll see him riding.

I distinctly see a tall giraffe

skating through the sky.”

I did not want to argue

or tell him he was wrong;

I saw a man-cloud walking

and wished to go along.

The Elephants

The Elephants

It gave me giddy thrill

to see that creature

emerge from the trees,

like a live dinosaur,

mythic and prehistoric,

with no regard for

proportion

or sensible scale.

It was like how I felt

when I first saw a whale

surface right next to our boat;

my hert seized

to see such astounding bulk.

Human may dominate this planet,

but we are not the

largest creatures on earth,

not even close to it.

Just look at them!

A line of huge, trunked creatures

rumbling along

like a prehistoric train

with a small baby as the caboose!

making me feel airy and light

and somehow free

        

Water Lily

       Water Lily

                                      

         I am famous: the sacred lotus,

         a symbol of grace and purity,

                           though to croaking frogs I am no more

                           than a hang-out joint, an all-night store.

         My petals enfold stamens of gold.

         I float, serene, while down below

                           these roots of mine are deeply stuck

                           in the coolest most delicious muck.

Unmovable

Unmovable

I’m not moving.

Uh-uh. No way.

I’ve made my decision:

I’m staying right here.

Dad and Mom can move,

and Ray can go, too.

But I’m twelve and I can

care for myself just fine.

They’re selling our house,

so I’ll camp in the woods.

My sleeping bag works great

down to twenty-five below.

I’ll fix hot dogs and soup

over a campfire.

I’ll bathe in the the stream

and walk to school.

When I need lunch money

or my report card signed—

anyway, I’m not moving.

                                  from Moving Day

Wildflowers

Wildflowers

Help Wanted: sturdy individuals

interested in grass-roots work

at a number of rugged locations

(cliffs, desert, some tundra).

Good benefits. Must be strong

and adaptable, self-starter,

persistent, willing to relocate,

with no fear of high places

and no known allergies

to bees.

Rainbow In Ice

Rainbow In Ice

I found a little rainbow

trapped in a chunk of ice.

Iced rainbows are seldom seen;

I don’t expect to find one twice.

It stayed outside my window

where the wind would keep it cold.

There were seven strands of color

and a tiny pot of gold.

All winter long I studied it,

how the yellow rubbed the green.

Red and indigo made bookends

while the blue nestled in between.

I wondered where it came from,

this orphan rainbow child.

And though I longed to tame it

I knew to keep it wild.

One warm March day the rainbow left;

on brilliant wings it flew.

Perhaps I’ll see it, fully grown,

when summer storms pass through.