Baby Talk

I had to reacquaint myself with the new normal again as I began to feel discouraged at my lack of participation in National Poetry Writing Month (napowrimo). I thought coming up with a limerick or haiku every day would be simple enough – something I could do while nursing or think about while en route to pick up my son from school. While I haven’t been able to concentrate that specifically on it, I realized that poetry has certainly become a staple in my communication with my baby girl. It’s not haiku or cinquain, but it’s poetry in the same vein as Woody Guthrie’s Hoodoo Voodoo. It’s improv poetry. Here are a few bits that cycle around:

Stinky winky

Snuggle buggle

Stinker poo, stinker poo
I love you!

Fussy mussy moo
A boogie boogie boo
Doo doo doo doo wa ooh be doo
(this one is scat to the tune of walk like a man).

Today’s lesson for me is simple. Poetry is a wonderful part of every day, if we can just relax our expectation for it.



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