Today’s writing inspiration comes from Kimberly Johnson, Ed.D. She is a literacy coach and media specialist in a public school in rural Georgia. She enjoys writing as a guest blogger for www.writerswhocare.com and counts down the days between monthly 5-Day Writing Challenges. She is the author of Father, Forgive Me: Confessions of a Southern Baptist Preacher’s Kid. Follow her on Twitter at @kimjohnson66.
Inspiration
Frank O’Hara was known for writing poems on his lunch break and became famous for his “Lunch Poems.” His “Having a Coke With You” inspired famous artwork as well as the modern Coca-Cola bottles that say “Share a Coke with (your name).” “Having a Coke With You” was a love poem to his boyfriend, Vincent Warren.
Process
Write a poem in which the title of the poem is “Having a Coke with You,” and the first line begins “is even more _____ than….” Your next lines can be as random as items in a thrift store. You may wish to conclude with, “which is why I’m telling you about it.” Have fun with this one today – and feel free to change the drink of choice or its effect (fun, refreshing, depressing, etc)
Kim’s Poem
Having a Coke with You
is even more refreshing than
an aperitific Aperol Spritz at the Ritz
showers of blessing, when mercy-drops ‘round us are falling or
a shocking-cold spray of spring water as we kayak glassy streams or
a cleansing bottle of Miralax as a procedural prep or
a drizzling of sizzling kisses or
a sprig of nasturtium leaves to cure fungal infections or
a splattering of the colorful splendors of spring or
a midday misting of hydrating Evian mineral water or
a smattering of what’s mattering to me right now,
which is why I’m telling you about it.
Write
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
Having a Coke with You
is even more pleasant than
having a Pepsi, because I really don’t like Pepsi very much.
It’s better than waiting for a flight to Fiji in the backseat of a stretch limo,
glasses of champagne fizzing and bubbling;
better than swaying back and forth on a bamboo cage
atop an Asian elephant
tromping through the jungles of Thailand,
or sitting under a secluded waterfall
in a desert grotto verdant with moss;
a fragrant pink rosebud upwind a warm spring breeze,
white jasmine flowers crawling around the door frame,
it’s more thrilling than an upside down roller coaster,
or a jump scare in pitch black movie theater,
or a mysterious letter in the mailbox with creepy loopy handwriting adorned with stamps from a country I’ve never heard of;
more comforting than
the soft cello hum as the lights fade to black,
which is why I’m telling you about it.
Shaun, every line was a poem! I loved this.
I started copying my favorite lines and ended up with this:
“is even more pleasant than
having a Pepsi, because I really don’t like Pepsi very much.
It’s better than waiting for a flight to Fiji in the backseat of a stretch limo,
glasses of champagne fizzing and bubbling;
better than swaying back and forth on a bamboo cage
atop an Asian elephant
tromping through the jungles of Thailand,
or sitting under a secluded waterfall
in a desert grotto verdant with moss;
a fragrant pink rosebud upwind a warm spring breeze,
white jasmine flowers crawling around the door frame,
it’s more thrilling than an upside down roller coaster,
or a jump scare in pitch black movie theater,
or a mysterious letter in the mailbox with creepy loopy handwriting adorned with stamps from a country I’ve never heard of;
more comforting than
the soft cello hum as the lights fade to black,
which is why I’m telling you about it.”
Lovely work.
Having a Coke With You (About my Grandfather who drinks coke more than anyone I know):
Sharing a coke with you is one of my favorite past times in the world,
Sitting in the hot, Michigan summer sun on the patio clinking our glasses,
Or sipping our Cokes sitting inside by the fireplace watching the Michigan snow patter outside.
You started drinking Coca Cola as a way to help you quit smoking when I was born,
Though my dad always joke with you how constant glasses of Coca Cola are ruining your body,
I can’t help but be so proud of the sacrifice you’ve made.
I’ll always cherish our movie nights, watching The Godfather or a Black-in-White movie with our cans of Coca Cola and a movie theater-sized box of “Good Plenty’s”, both of witch I never really liked unless I was sharing them with you,
Whenever we would go out to restaurants and all the adult’s would order their glasses of wines or their bottles of beers you simply ordered a, “Coke.” Pepsi was not an acceptable substitute and if they didn’t have Coke I knew as soon as you got home a bowl of potato chips and a Two-Liter of Coke would be consumed as soon as possible.
I was planning on sharing a Coke with you last month.
My siblings and I were all planning on taking a trip to Florida to see you and Grammy.
The coronavirus came and of course these plans had to be changed.
I called you in disappointment t and tears that we couldn’t come and see you,
In your typical cheery fashion you explained that we would see you in Michigan this summer. surely this will be over by then.
As weeks go by and Michigan restrictions get stricter and stricter I don’t know when I will see my grandparents.
I don’t know if everyone will stay healthy or safe and I don’t know if it will be weeks or months or a year until I can see the people I love most.
All I know is that I would give just about anything to be sitting with my grandpa drinking. a glass of Coke, watching the fireworks burst over Lake Michigan on the fourth of July.
And that will keep me going. Knowing that one day I’ll get to share that Coke with my grandpa again and millions of people around the world will get to “share a coke” with the people they love one day soon.
For my best friend in all her glory
Spending any amount of time with you
is more meaningful than
a text saying ‘how are you?’
a handwritten note
a cup of coffee on a cold day
is more precious than
a diamond necklace
a pirates treasure
is more relaxing than
my first vodka soda of the night
a Swedish massage
falling in bed after a long day
a city drive listening to whatever Spotify plays for me
Elizabeth, I like how you wrote three stanzas–spending time with your best friend is more meaningful, more precious, and more relaxing than all these lovely images. More relaxing than all of those in the last stanza really shows how much you miss her.
Lizzy, I love getting to read your work you are such a natural writer! I completely get what you mean- these past few weeks have been really hard and I would love to get to see all of my friends and family. I love how relatable everything you talk about especially the last bit about going on city drives listening to music because I do that as well1
Kim, your example poem was so fun to read! This is a great prompt.
Having a night of cooking with you three
is just as special then
a wine night where we get silly or
a movie night that we end up watching 2 or 3 or
a night of driving around jamming to Luke Combs or
a night at our fire pit in the backyard we swore we would use or
the moments that came to a quick end because of an unforeseeable future,
we will forever remember those nights in 131 S. Melrose.
having a cup of coffee with you
sometimes having a cup of coffee with you
is even more of a treat than
a cocktail later in the day
cause there’s something nice about the early morn,
or a plate of pancakes at a diner
cause a dimly lit room at home makes the coffee sweeter,
or a room full of friends
cause the intimacy of the time with you is precious,
or the sanctity of time alone
is never as delightful as the time shared,
or a cat in my lap
cause either way there’s a cat!
So sweet! I love your comparisons and explanations.
Jamie,
This is so cute! I love cats and my cat is always near so I completely agree “either way there’s a cat!”
Fun too because you remind me of the special bonding that comes from coffee at home with someone or something “sweet.”
?❤️
Having a Coke with You!
Having a cup of coffee with you
is ever more refreshing than
chilling under a tent on a North Shore beach
binge-watching Law and Order: SUV
leisurely strolling through my neighborhood
writing in my notebook to get out of my own head
composing poetry of various genres
which is why I am telling you about it.
Kim, who would have a thought a simple bottle of cola would inspire such a range of responses and reveal such skill with words, arrangements, and sounds in the poems posted today.? Thanks so much for seeking out and sharing a new challenge for reviving fond memories of families and friends we love and miss so terribly or love and may kiss more passionately, just because of these poems!
Having morning coffee with you
is even more comforting than
my threadworn pajamas or
warm butterscotch pudding
over ice cream or
petting an old, soft dog
with mindless fingers or
rocking to sleep on a train
and drifting off like
the baby’s head heavy on my shoulder or
the spring sun slanting onto the porch
warming my fingers
as they write the poem or
my mother humming as she
dips her hands into sudsy water
then rinses the sturdy dishes
and hands them to me
to dry,
which is why I’m telling you about it.
Such beautiful images, Allison. I said, “Aww!” after reading each one. Just lovely.
Love your images of “threadworn pajamas or/ warm pudding over ice cream/mother humming as she dips her hands into sudsy water.” This poem is beautiful and relaxing. Thanks for sharing!
Allison,
I want to have threadworm pajamas or warm butterscotch pudding over ice cream like you. I want to have coffee and feel the way you do. My favorite part is when you wrote “the baby’s head heavy on my shoulder or/the spring sun slanting onto the porch”. Thank you for sharing
Hi Allison,
Lovely sweetness pours out of your poem! Made me feel cozy and loved!
Oh, there is that poetry again. Oh, my, so lovely. I can’t stop reading this. Drifting off to sleep like the baby’s head heavy on my shoulder and the scene of your mother and you doing the dishes conjure up for me my own memories. I love the sturdy dishes, the spring sun slanting and so much more.
Allison – Coming straight to your poem this morning is especially perfect. I want that cup of coffee on your porch as the sun slants and warms my fingers. More than anything, I wish I hadn’t been on a time clock when I rolled through Iowa last summer. The 20 minutes of poetry on the porch seems so much like it could’ve been “warm butterscotch “ and the sound of your “mother humming” and “rocking to sleep on a train” and “petting an old, soft dog/ with mindless fingers” all wrapped into a cup of coffee with you. These are beautiful images to make a day feel so worth slowing down and soaking it all in. Love, Susie
Having a glass of wine with you
Is even more unbearable than
Sipping tea with strangers
It is different from what I imagined
No butterfly floating
around in my stomach
Just an empty hollow feeling
Of regret and hatred
Wow, Melissa! Don’t hold back! Sipping tea with strangers is something I’ve never thought about, but it does sound horrible!
Oh, wow, Melissa – this one burns with intensity. The ending, following the “no butterfly,” creates a powerful contrast. Regret is such a gripping emotion. We all know it, which is why for me your poem resonates. Thank you.
The sadness of falling out of love is so raw and authentic. I connect with that feeling you have when you realize there’s “No butterfly floating around” and there’s “just an empty hollow feeling”. Wow!
Boom!!! Hit that sucker right on the head! Love it, my kind of poem. Just say it!
GTFOH! LOL.
I love it.
Reminds me of many a failed outings with my ex-spouse.
Having virtual happy hour with You
is reminiscing on this ashen
shelter-in-place-afternoon,
me sipping a Sam Adam’s,
you indulging in a hoppy IPA
Best buds, since Mommy & Me days
Days spent worrying, new momma worries
everything was novel & palpitation inducing
We bemoaned our ravenous newborns
and our sore nipples, even as our babes thrived,
We fretted over dirty pacifiers
and troubled over potty training debacles,
We agonized over ADHD issues &
tears shed by our heartbroken teens
and
Days when we realized we didn’t
have to be perfect mommas,
when we realized our children
had become exactly
who they were meant to be
Which is why I’m telling you this …
We are good mommas. Cheers!
Tammi,
Every one of us who are mothers will stand and applaud this tribute! Absolute appreciatIon from the bottom of my lazy feet to the top of my messy head!
You took me in gently with virtual happy hour. I almost thought you were going to focus it around that. Then the turn and I was all the way in there with you.
This is so real it hurts to remember:
“our sore nipples…
We fretted over dirty pacifiers
and troubled over potty training debacles…”
Love it all! You’re a great momma!❤️
Tammi, I’m sliding over to your side of the table with the Sam Adams! I enjoyed the way you crafted a baby book – – all those stages of infancy and childhood and teenagers, and then…..as transformed as your children, you and your Best Bud accepted them for who they were meant to be. What awesome mothers! What fortunate, fortunate children!
Tammy, I literally GRINNED as I read this! Loved “We bemoaned our ravenous newborns
and our sore nipples, even as our babes thrived”! Tonight I wrote about my neighbor who has been my “best bud since Mommy and Me days”–something about raising children together has given us so much history. Cheers to you, your friend, and your poem!
Great poem! Mamas can be so hard on themselves. But we do the best we know how. Thank you for reminding of that.
What a fun prompt, Kim!
Having a glass of Malbec with you
is even more relaxing than
getting my emails down to zero or
watching the house finches gather at the feeder or
reading in my comfy chair or
watching the Northern Lights live stream when I can’t sleep or
paying a twenty-three year old to give me a facial or
having nowhere to be on the weekend or
turning pruny in the bubble bath
which is why I’m telling you about it
Mo – You picked out some wonderful images that resonated with me right off. The “house finches gather[ing] at the feeder” is one I love and watch every day from where I’m sitting right now. And “prune in the bubble bath” — what a Malbec kind of moment! I love Malbec… haven’t tasted a glass of that in quite awhile. Maybe once I’m not in lockdown. 😐
Take care, be safe. Hugs, Susie
Mo, I’m glad to know a fellow Malbec lover! “Getting my emails down to zero” is as satisfying as a clean closet – that is genius! I’m now going to try watching the Northern Lights live stream when I can’t sleep, so thank you for that great tip. And turning pruny in the bubble bath – – that is the ultimate in relaxation! Clinking glasses with you!
EVERY line was a poem! Each image captured a subtly different aspect of “relaxing.” “Paying a twenty-three-year-old to give me a facial” gave me layers to think about and “turning pruny in the bubble bath” reminded me of how individual words can explode with happiness. Thank you!
Had to smile at “getting my emails down to zero” — that would be very satisfying. Really enjoyed all the images here “watching the house finches”, “turning pruny in the bubble bath”.
Mo, I loved this relaxing interpretation of the inspiration of the day! I resonate with “reading in my comfy chair” and “turning pruny in the bubble bath” on days like today. Thank you for sharing!
This poem is very relaxing. I may need to take advantage of these relaxing activities I can do at home.
A Shot of Yukon Jack with You
Having a shot of Yukon Jack with you
Was really a mistake
But its sweet whiskey burn
Warmed me to dizzying heights
Blurred my vision
Broke my reserve
Blinded my memory
Of all the mistakes
I miserably made
Barb Edler
April 16, 2020
Barb, I heard, “Regrets, I’ve had a few…” while I read your poem. So relatable!
Barb, I love your “dizzying heights!” The alliteration of blurred, broke, blinded and mistakes/miserably made complete that picture with our own memories of that burn and the blinding aftermath.
Oh, I love this! “Sweet whiskey burn” is a great line to introduce the binary opposition of love/mistakes. Your poem is packed with riveting verbs: warmed, blurred, broke, blinded. I’d love to use this as a mentor poem to show how a complex message can be delivered in very few words. Loved it.
Allison, thank you so much for considering this as a mentor poem. I have been thinking about how much more I could have added, but I do love to write a more concise poem and let the reader fill in the blanks. You’re surely welcome to use this anytime.
This is fire!!!! I love it! Wow, so many of the posts today are raw, uncut, and blood-boilingly honest!
Cheers to all the mistakes we’ve all made!
Stacey, Cheers! LOL!
Kim — I really had fun reading the inventive “more refreshing than[s]” in your mentor poem! HA! The Miralax had me guffawing. I loved the “drizzling sizzling kisses” – lovely sound! I loved those internal rhymes — “splattering … smattering…mattering” “Spritz … Ritz. Just thinking about these sweet moments was lovely…. makes me want to kayak again… well, maybe. 🙂 Fun prompt! Thanks, Susie
Susie, thank you so much for your kind words today! That Miralax was there because my “refreshing” way of approaching my Post-50 “procedure” was by decorating my behind. I got the idea from a doctor who wrote in a book that she enjoyed when her patients came in with surprises on their backsides. So that’s how it was refreshing for me 🙂 – more in the attitude and not the effects.
This is hilarious! I, too, laughed at the Miralax! I loved the anything-goes junk-drawer invitation tonight. Those of us who are determined to write for the whole month need PERMISSION to let our thoughts spool out. This was a really fun prompt. My students will love it.
Having a cup of coffee with you
Is even more fulfilling than
Attending church on Easter Sunday.
Beating you in a Rummi match or
Catching the biggest bluegill
While visiting Sleepy Hollow
in Grandpa’s fishing boat.
More fulfilling than being published in a magazine or
Those huge chocolate chip cookies with the big chunks of walnut
We would bake those frigid afternoons.
How I wish we could get those days back
The coffee, cookies, cards…
On a frigid afternoon
A warm coffee warms my hands
Placing the single rose upon the granite stone
I whisper
Which is why I’m telling you about it.
Jennifer,
What I love so much about the poems today is that the analogies and imagery and allusions in these poems reflect such a strong sense of place for each one of us in our corners of the world. And in this way, we are offering one another a window into our lives. Love the Rummi match, the bluegill, the fishing boat that is yours and the cookies and coffee and that I share alongside you as I read the poem.
Peace,
Sarah
Jennifer, your poem is so poignant. The specific details of what you did together is easy to visualize. My heart breaks at the end. Tears!
I love the nostalgia of this poem. So many wonderful memories “catching the biggest bluegill/while visiting Sleepy Hollow/ in grandpa’s fishing boat”. The way you brought the poem back full circle with “coffee warms my hands/placing the single rose upon the granite stone.” — Just beautiful.
Jennifer,
I sense a loss of a person very close to you – a cousin? a sibling? a grandmother? Someone who made memories with you and gave the best investment of self: time and attention. My heart breaks for your loss even as I see the triumph of a winning game, a snapshot of a huge fish, and smell the cookies fresh from the oven. Then I see the rose on the stone and know that a piece of your heart is missing – frigid like afternoon sometimes, but mostly warmed with memory like the coffee in your hands. Hugs to you!
Awww… everything is in that whisper. Fragility, respect, the bond between you two, concern, love, prayer, childhood,. You bring us into your relationship through the Rummi match and fishing and the chocolate chip cookies. I can envision you talking at the gravesite too. This is so lovely.
Having Lunch Bunch with You
By Stacey L. Joy, for my Joyteam Stars
Having Lunch Bunch with You
is even more distant a memory than
our first day of school in the August heat
your new lunchbags and backpacks hanging from seats
Can’t be something we still do on Thursdays
Gavin and Kenny offering to dump the trash bag
Camille and Essence bringing cookies to share
and me, silently savoring my chicken salad in my teacher’s chair
Chatter and laughter of our Peace Path Partners
some sitting in circles and giggly clusters
like too many peas in precocious pods
Today I ask unsure, “Are my kids okay, God?”
Could be something of the forever past
if distance learning becomes the norm
high-fiving and hugs confined to virtual form
Couldn’t ever record girls’ skits on Google Meet
And I refuse to believe you’ll clean up after Zoom
When I can’t smell your lunches or catch your joy in my room
Stacey — This is just so perfect. You are sharing this with your kids, right!!!??? YOU MUST! They will, as do I, enjoy the bits of rhyme and the tone of genuine teacher love. Downright maternal — “clean up after Zoom” … ha! Good luck…I think you’re right…probably not. Your poem took me back to the lunch bunch I had with my 7th and 8th graders. That opportunity to know those kids so well and to be family with them… it was priceless. I totally love that these are “my kids” and only a teacher knows that. I wish we had taught together. Hugs, Susie
Stacey, the specific details in your poem are so vivid. But your ending line is incredible. The best part of teaching is having that joy students share. I am so impressed with the way this poem flows, rhymes, and shares such a special message!
Stacey — you capture the joy of teaching so well. This is such a bitter sweet poem. I can relate and I hope that we all will soon find ourselves again listening to the “giggly clusters like too many peas in precocious pods”. Thanks for sharing.
Stacey, I go from happy to heartbroken as I read your precious words today. This is what sticks with me:
Gavin and Kenny offering to dump the trash bag
Camille and Essence bringing cookies to share
I see names here, and names have faces and feelings. I think about these beautiful souls, precious spirits who want to do their part – offering to dump the trash bag because that is how they love to help people – and it gives them purpose and fulfillment. Bringing cookies – because this gives them joy. And I think of Gavin, Kenny, Camille, and Essence right now. I hope that their places in this time of the virus bring them the opportunities to continue to be helpers and grow. I’m happy that they have a teacher who loves and misses them and still, in the same train of thought, writes “I refuse to believe you’ll clean up after Zoom,” because you know them enough to love them and love them enough to know them. And you take on that teacher/mama tone that tells us no one is pulling the wool over your eyes. This is perfect.
This is one of the best responses to the prompt I have read today! As a pre- teacher this is something that I enjoy hearing about; the genuine connections you have with your students. Just by reading your poem, it is easy to see how much they cherish you. I also love the idea of a lunch brunch with them!
[Note: A few years ago, my favorite cousins introduced me to Kentucky’s most precious commodity, bourbon. I knew nothing about the amber ways. Well, I am a learner, as all teachers are. We wandered the famed “Bourbon Trail,” and I was introduced to some sweet-mama-holy-ambrosia. The Barton distillery was worth the winding drives on those switchback hills of KY.]
A Slow Sip with Mr. Barton
Havin’ a slow sip o’ 1792 with you
is an honor, Mr. Barton —
a distillation of my worries into a lazy pool
of let it go,
silencing today’s body count,
untying that apron,
bringing on Mama’s quiet smile,
butter on my biscuit,
priming Prine on the playlist,
an eyes-closed slow dance in the kitchen;
a promise
kept –
and I thought I oughta tell ya so.
by Susie Morice©
Susie,
Such beautiful language! Love
“butter on my biscuit,
priming Prine on the playlist”
You always manage to be inspired by the challenge yet you make it your own. Your last line is perfect
Wow Susie! Your piece captures the slow trickle of those firsts sips of bourbon, and the warm glow that melts your worries and makes the world a rosier place. Your use of colloquial diction is as smooth as the oak-cured nectar itself: “havin’ a slow sip o’ 1792,” “butter my biscuit” and ” I oughta tell ya so.” It’s way past toddy time at my house, and your poem has made me thirsty! Thank you for sharing your poem!
Susie,
Your poem makes me want to travel those winding roads and take a sip myself. I love the subtle nod to “today’s body count,” a toast not only to Mr. Barton but also to them. Adding mama’s biscuits and some John Prime to the mix, well that’s the perfect escape, if only for a moment. My favorite thing about this poem, however, is how you honor the prompt and do so w/ out formula. This is why you’re such an inspiration and mentor to this community. Thank you.
—Glenda
Susie, your choice of the kitchen is the PERFECT room for the apron strings to be loosened and the secret cabinet to reveal the 1792 – – a beautiful way to silence the body count and step in the the full knowing of your mother’s “quiet smile.” the distillation of your worries into a lazy pool creates the image of the bourbon taking your hand and leading you into a Calgon state of mind. The tribute to John Prine is also quite touching – and what I like best is that by silencing the body count, it erases his death and brings him right into that kitchen with you, stepping in sync. As always, a divine shared moment.
Love the language of your poem, to read it aloud, it is a slow, sweet song…”bringing on Mama’s quiet smile, butter on my biscuit…” So great!
Oh my word. All the feels happening here, Susie. This poem needs a wide audience.
“a distillation of my worries into a lazy pool
of let it go,” (I felt my breath catch)
“silencing today’s body count” (four words to nail me down)
“untying that apron” (such an image of day’s end)
“butter on my biscuit” (melting me now)
“Prince on the playlist” (alliterating my heart)
Your final line just killed it.
Susie, my friend, again you give me the images with words and lines that I don’t even have in my brain! LOL.
I love this:
a distillation of my worries into a lazy pool
of let it go,
silencing today’s body count,
Distillation of my worries really sounds like a book. Dang. You’re incredible.
SISTERS
Having lunch with all of you
never fails to put me in a great mood
makes me smile
makes me peaceful
makes me hopeful
makes me feel like I belong
makes me feel accepted
makes me feel strong
makes me feel supported
gives me direction
Having lunch with all of you
is reinvigorating
and funny
we share stories
we share laughter
we share tears
we share food
we share jokes
we share worries
we vent
we listen
we let go
Having lunch with all of you
has been put on hold
Having lunch with all of you
is what I miss the most.
Monica, your poem is bittersweet. It roams and rattles like those long lunches with friends. I, too, miss lunches with friends and colleagues. Your repetition of “share” highlights my favorite part…the exchange/the discourse. No amount of FaceTime or Zoom fills that void. I feel ya. Thank you for sharing!
Monica, I can see why you miss lunch with these beloved sisters. I love your repeating line – it works well to separate the thoughts and make each feeling and each action important on its own line. “Makes me feel like I belong” and “we vent” are two of my favorite lines, because that’s what sisters do – – and then they laugh and eat and the world is suddenly back on its axis!
I see that you all have a strong bond and having lunch together is such treat. I hope you get to have lunch with your sisters in the near future.
Goose bumps! Your piece was so sweet. I only have a brother and I still can feel a connection to this, especially the memories shared. Thank you for sharing this!
Monica,
Those of us who have siblings we love and have strong friendships with can identify with your poem very well. I love my one and only sister and we are besties. We live across the grass from each other. But she is working from home like me so we barely have time to smile at the doorways. It’s awful.
I feel for you. It sounds like you have a loving bunch of sisters! Someday, you’ll have that lunch together again. I hope you’re doing virtual gatherings if you can’t be close. That helps a ton!
Hugs.
Having a Yoo-hoo with you
is even more reflective than
the traffic jam outside of Cleveland
the depressed faces of anxious fans waiting in the back of the line
the bass player singing backups on the big radio hit
the dream of the sea of festival faces
Converse All-Stars, Red Yankees Hats, Fishnet Stockings, Bracelets, & More Bracelets
the bass player’s wild eyes as he viciously waved the neck of his guitar in your face
the “Not My President” t-shirts: post-Florida, pre-9/11
the interlude reggae music
seeing the bass player backstage holding hands with his girlfriend
little microcosmic glimpses of the future
feeling dehydrated waiting for the ferry to get off an island at midnight
the flat tire in Bumf***, Ontario
the $20 tip my brother left for the tired Denny’s waitress at 3am
waking up (at least, pretty sure waking up) while driving
my beautiful blanket
my perfect pillow
the end of the night
which is why I’m telling you about it
Alex — You made me laugh out loud. The “flat tire…” – LOL! Not funny at the time, I know, but… Even the “Yoo Hoo” is a funny thing to me — I never knew a soul who actually drank that. I love all the musician details… “bass player wild eyes… waving the neck of his guitar…” You brought the concert to us. And the crazy travel, exhaustion that goes with that love of seeing it all live. I’m going to go nuts this summer if I miss all the concerts I had lining up to see. But… stay healthy, stay safe! Susie
Alex, a Yoo Hoo! I love a Yoo Hoo and remember fighting with my brother over them when Mom would get a six pack for us. We didn’t share well. Thanks for resurrecting that piece of my past. I’m probably going to have to add them to the ClickList order now. Your brother is a generous tipper, and I’m sure that tired waitress appreciated the extra! I like the band feeling of this poem – the Converse, the late night dinner. And waking up while driving…….(trying to keep it between the lines)……
Having a coke with you
is even more sweet than
a chocolate cake from a luxe pastry shop
an ice cream cake at a childhood birthday party
a popsicle on a hot summer day
a return home after a long journey away
a new puppy greeting its owners as they come home
a sip of the sweet, bubbly cola is refreshing, relaxing
and even better with you
Michelle, that Coke with a friend is sweet – – but my favorite part other than the Coke is “a new puppy greeting its owners as they come home.” What a beautiful image – – a bubbly Coke and a full body wag with a happy tail smile on one end and puppy breath on the other!
Kim,
What a fun topic today. I learned about another new poet and poem today too. Your rhyming, rhythm and alliteration is so fun in your poem. It’s more bubbly than the Coke. I loved splattering and smattering and “a midday misting.” Thanks for the challenge. I’m having a virtual tea party tomorrow with the church school teachers at my church, so this poem was on my mind.
Having a pot of karak tea with you
is more comforting than
the sound and depth of James’ Earl Jones’ voice
the feeling and chills I get when someone plays with my hair
a frosty glass of water after working in the yard
cozying up with a warm, fluffy blanket
the sound of rain, gentle on a tin roof
the smells of fresh bread and rich earth
the throaty full crooning of Gordon Lightfoot
the sight of seeing you come through the door
and joining me at the table in Naseef’s
(when we no longer need to have virtual tea parties)
which is why I’m telling you about it
Denise, you had me at:
the feeling and chills I get when someone plays with my hair. There’s no more comforting feeling that that for me, so that pot of karak tea is something I’d love to try! I’m glad that, despite social distancing, we can still connect – – virtual tea parties, social media, poetry group. Thank you for giving us a window on your world today, and have fun at your tea party tomorrow.
Denise, I especially like your sound analogies (James Earl Jones & Gordon Lightfoot), but I enjoy that you go through all the senses. Great choices to describe comfort and a nice cup of tea with someone!
Thank you Kim for the prompt and the poem! It was a serendipitous assignment…today is my fourth wedding anniversary. My spouse and I married in 2016, on the five-year anniversary of our first date. I took longer on today’s poem because I enjoyed the memories and drinks the process evoked. This piece will be the perfect addition to his gift today. Many thanks!
Having a drink with you today
To Joey
Having a drink with you today
is even more exciting and more special
than the first one in 2011
Better than chugging a Coors Light in the cigarette smoke at the Funky Monkey or the dozen Yingling Lights sipped to a soundtrack of bad country music at Six Shooters on our first date
Better than dry cabernet in plastic cups when we got wasted in the Walmart parking lot on a Wednesday night, telling stories and cracking jokes, when you told me about your mom’s death as you dropped me off in the driveway, another 30 minutes of goodbye
Better than the dirty martini I was drinking at The Bistro when I came out of the ladies’ room to tell you that we should definitely make-out
Better than Greek white wine on the patio of George & Louie’s, listening to Sinatra, watching the lights twinkle in the breeze
Better than an icy Allagash with a red hot dog in a split-top bun, watching the sun set over the Casco Bay as we rode the ferry back to Portland, and you told me I looked pretty
Better than the dark amber of an Anderson Valley Winter Solstice, drunk in the even darker Other Room bar, black walls and cream candles and pulsing rock music, when I wished we could be cool and hip and live in New York City
Better than Hurricanes and Bloody Marys slurped between Easter Sunday storms in New Orleans, when we crossed the cobblestone road and interrupted the parade in search of oysters
Better than the hand-crafted, painstakingly created cocktails at The Patterson House in vintage glasses with unpronounceable ingredients where we talked about music and art and drank those $15 libations too fast
Better than buckets of beer and midnight catfish tucked under those hundred year oaks at the Bradfordville Blues Club
Better than the gin and tonics we sloshed while dancing to Big Band music at The Green Mill, a rare slow dance, pressing against each other, bumping into other couples, sharing our secret engagement
Better than the champagne we drank out of those cheap glass goblets my mom and dad were gifted from the Vero Beach liquor store on the way to their honeymoon, collecting dust for thirty-four years before their first born would toast her husband
Better than our wedding day drink at The Collins, a custom concoction of grapefruit and gin and best wishes, while we called our siblings, texted our friends and family, cheers-ed each other and our parents
Better than our local escape to Liam’s bar, a thirty minute drive that transports us to another locale, another vista where we can pretend we live somewhere else between Smoked Old Fashions and Basil Collinses
Better than our homemade invention–the Old Manhattan–a combination of bitters and bourbon and ginger and orange and cherries, a combination of drinks we’ve loved based on what we can find in the refrigerator and the cupboard, a metaphor in drink-form
Better than the orange juice you bought me with a Hardee’s biscuit this morning because you know the stories and flavors of my childhood, because you had a dream last night that I didn’t love you anymore
but I do love you
for nine years
which is why i’m telling you about it
Oh Betsy, happy, happy anniversary. Joey is going to love this gift. It is beautifully done and so full of precious memories, like the champagne goblets from your mom and dad’s honeymoon. Such rich detail. I can see it truly was a labor of love, and it reminds me of Frank O’Hara’s original version of the Coke poem.
Betsy, where to begin? I laughed and ooohed and agreed and cheered and reminisced and thought about how you took me on a journey of discovery about all the places that drinks take us – – and how they transport us or make us wish we could uproot and live somewhere else from time to time. I think it’s part of why I bring home a bottle of Sheridan’s every time I go on a cruise. I want to know that I can pour a shot and be back in a moment.
This is a beautiful gift. My favorite parts:
at The Bistro when I came out of the ladies’ room to tell you that we should definitely make-out
when I wished we could be cool and hip and live in New York City
a combination of drinks we’ve loved based on what we can find in the refrigerator and the cupboard, a metaphor in drink-form
But the show-stopper for me was:
when we crossed the cobblestone road and interrupted the parade in search of oysters
I had an image of the two of you with rolled-up clamdigger pants and buckets and shovels, with Hurricanes in your hands, ……..interrupting the Bourbon Street parade for some oysters.
Your writing is a beautiful gift – – full of treasured memories! Happy Anniversary – – and many more!
Betsy — What a sweet way to round out the anniversary moment! Lovely. That’s a heck of a list you’ve got going! Each one so rich in specifics. Save this and keep adding…when you two hit 10 years, we’ll call AA. LOL! Just kidding…totally fun! Have a great evening! Susie
Kim,
Thank you for the wonderful inspiration! I love it and can see myself digging in and using it frequently.
Girls Getaway
Having a cup of coffee and a scone
with the two of you
in the hotel lobby
on our shopping weekend
is
more comforting than being wrapped
in a sherpa blanket while lounging on the couch;
more stimulating than a Journey concert
with strobe lights blazing and bass thumping;
more affirming than a Google search
that proves your statement correct;
more liberating than being released
from school at the 3:00 bell.
A tradition twenty years old
that has seen all of us through
happiness,
tears,
stresses,
celebrations,
is a lifeblood for each of us.
On that weekend
after the coffee
sure . . . we spend frivolously,
purchase excessively,
and mark things
off that overwhelming holiday
to-do list.
But there’s so much more to it.
Which is why I’m telling you about it.
Thank you for sharing! I think the line “more affirming than a Google search that proves your statement correct” is so clever because it gives instant satisfaction. I also love how this tradition with friends is so special as you said in the lin “is a lifeblood for each of us”.
Susan, this delightful getaway where memories are made and the fun “work” of holiday shopping is accomplished sounds like a tradition that will carry on for years to come and give a lifetime of laughter. Twenty-year lifeblood. I like that next-to-last line: But there’s so much more to it. The shopping, the conversations, the support, the fun, the LIFE that happens over that coffee and scone – – this is what life dreams are made of! You have so much for which to be grateful, indeed!
Having a morning coffee with you
is something we’ve never done,
But I can picture it perfectly.
Laughter would echo as you poured,
Steam would rise from the mug,
Yours would be black and mine a light brown.
We’d be sitting criss-cross on the couch,
Windows open letting in the breeze,
Sipping lightly as the caffeine awakens us.
Maybe someday we can share a morning coffee.
Until then, I’ll enjoy this cup of joe on my own thinking of you.
I love the twist at the beginning: “Having a morning coffee with you / is something we’ve never done”. It makes me wonder who this is you’re writing about! A real person, fictional, imaginary, long lost? I also love the image you create of “sitting criss-cross on the couch, / Windows open letting in the breeze”. I can almost feel it. Thanks for sharing!!
Lauryl, your dream of the morning coffee and how it will be picture-perfect right down to the color of the way it’s fixed gives a feeling of hope for many breezy coffee-filled mornings on the couch – – I think my favorite line is “laughter would echo as you poured.” There’s something special and sacred about a bedheaded morning before all the matters of the day weight it down – – Cheers to your dreams!
Lauryl,
I have been thinking about your poem for most of the afternoon. I’ve been pondering the opening lines, and I love that your morning coffee could be with so many different people. I love the moment that you create. The “Laughter would echo” and “sitting criss-cross on the couch”. It’s so peaceful and laid back. Thanks so much!
Lauryl,
I loved this piece! You talk about an event that hasn’t occurred yet, and I want it to occur for you too. I want you to have that cup of coffee and I want it to be the most amazing cup of coffee in your life. Whoever you are thinking of sounds great! Thank you for sharing!
Having an evening espresso with you
Is an even more poignant ritual than drinking our requisite morning coffee.
I remember when you bought the shiny silver Nespresso machine.
I think we were still dating.
Now our coffee in the making even sounded more authentic.
We picked up cups along the way and saucers too.
Some are dainty pastel polka dot,
Others double-walled tempered glass.
Though our coffee is usually decaf
To promote nocturnal harmony,
It is anything but pedestrian.
In fact our coffee even struts,
Ristretto Italiano Decaffeinato and
Firenze Arpeggio Decaffeinato.
Let’s never let this ritual lapse,
Which is why I’m telling you about it.
Thank you for sharing! The lines “though our coffee is usually decaf, to promote natural harmony, it is anything but pedestrian” were clever to me because despite the coffee being decaf, it still has an air of sophistication and importance.
Katrina, what a lovely scene of two people enjoying espresso at the end of the day and finding the comfort of relaxation in the evening tradition. I love the coffee names – Ristretto Italiano Decaffeinato and Firenze Arpeggio Decaffienato. As a fellow decaf drinker, I appreciate the “nocturnal harmony” that you describe. I feel like I am there in your kitchen, watching the science of serenity swirl in a dainty pastel polka dot cup – and dying to try this Nespresso machine!
Having a morning coffee with you
Is one of the most wonderful things to do
“What’s your agenda for the day?”
Seems like all homework and no play
Sitting across the sun shining off your ginger curls
Giggling like just another silly schoolgirl
My mind fills with where my life is leading towards
Mornings like this, followed by nights and game boards.
Conversations with you fill me with such ease
I could believe the world was under a blanket of peace
Fighting the urge to crawl back under the covers
By talking about the world we’ll one day discover
Knowing there isn’t a struggle I can’t get through
From starting each day having this coffee with you
Jessica, wow! Thank you for sharing this poem today. I was sipping on my morning coffee as I read it and it brought a huge smile to my face. I love sharing coffee with friends and my partner. This line “I could believe the world was under a blanket of peace” really resonated with me.
I especially love the image of “the sun shining off your ginger curls giggling…” To read a poem like this is a reminder that things are all right.
Jessica,
I love this! The giddiness and joy that you bring into a morning cup of coffee is infectious. “Knowing there isn’t a struggle I can’t get through/From starting each day having this coffee with you” wow! Those last two lines are so sweet. Thank you for sharing.
Jessica, the rhyme scheme gives your poem a lilt and an upward swing at the end of each line like lips with a smile. I like this line best – because it shows your level of comfort with the person you are with:
I could believe the world was under a blanket of peace
This just confirms the peace you feel:
Knowing there isn’t a struggle I can’t get through
From starting each day having this coffee with you
Beautiful!
Having a beer with you
is even more invigorating than
jumping into a crisp, cool pool or
throwing your hands up on a rollercoaster or
diving below the weight of a wave or
cruising PCH with the top down or
riding out the brain freeze of a cherry Slurpee or
turning your face up to the rain or
a wind chill fluttering even your lashes,
which is why I’m telling you about it.
Emily,
I love this imagery:
cruising PCH with the top down or
riding out the brain freeze of a cherry Slurpee
When I was 18, I moved to Morro Bay for a year, and much of this poem brings me back to that memory. And there is just something about the eyelashes that is so precious and vulnerable, “fluttering even your lashes.” My heart is aflutter with your poem.
Sarah
Emily, invigorating beer! I am enjoying your use of alliteration and rhyme “cool pool/ weight of a wave/ freeze…Slurpee” and the fluttering of lashes. That brain freeze of the cherry Slurpee is such a beautiful thought and a beautiful sound. I’m not sure what kind of beer this is (maybe a Yuengling), but it’s making me want to pop a top and throw one of these bad boys back!
Emily,
Wow! Talk about a Sensory experience! I could picture every single moment in your lines, and it took me back to my high school/college days with my best girlfriends. Such wonderful, carefree times. I just love the line “turning your face up to the rain or/ a wind chill fluttering even your lashes.” Such great sense of touch here. The taste of the slurpee is still lingering in my mind. Thanks for sharing your beautiful moment today!
Good morning/afternoon Kim,
Yay so much fun! I love your poem. This caught me:
a cleansing bottle of Miralax as a procedural prep or (oh no, not a procedural prep, frightening and familiar)
a drizzling of sizzling kisses or (makes my heart sing)
a smattering of what’s mattering to me right now (how cute is this!)
Looking forward to writing and this is a new one for me so I’ll try not to overthink it.
Have a safe and blessed day!
Right, Stacey? Kim is so witty, and her prompt really has sent #verselove into this beautiful space of love and humor today!
Thank you, Sarah! I am loving everyone’s poems – I am getting these sweet glimpses into everyone’s windows today.
Thank you, Stacey! I am loving all of the stories today – it helps me get to know us all better, and I really love the diversity of experiences in this group.
That cleansing bottle of Miralax has a story. I understand how it may not be “refreshing” to most people, but after I turned fifty and had to get the dreaded colonoscopy, I was reading a book by an internal medicine doctor who said that she loves it best when her patients show up with decorated bottoms for their procedures. So I decorated my @$$. Hence, the “refreshing” outlook on something that I was really not looking forward to AT ALL. It took away the awkwardness and gave me a point of discussion with my doctor when I woke up. Thanks for your kind words. I like going off the beaten path a little bit these days 🙂
Kim — Thank you for such a fun prompt!
Having a Coke with you
is better than getting caught in the rain
in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, when
on a whim, we crossed the International Bridge
lured by the sounds of a music festival
and dancing.
There were Canadians dancing!
A lovely sight and, because
I know how much you hate to dance,
an opportunity to dance,
for once, unlike prudish Americans,
but better to dance like Canadians.
But, you did not want to leave the Acadia
as the rain dropped in buckets and
the air smelled of dirt.
It was your hair, you said,
that would be unforgiving
if you left the shelter
of the three-rowed GMC.
But, I found an umbrella
that could only keep the deluge
at bay for one and said,
“Here, you take it.
You’ll stay dry and we’ll have fun
as we dance in the rain.
Look!
The Canadians are dancing!
We can too!”
You didn’t say a word,
but your look said enough.
And I danced to the beat of festival music
while the sky drenched
the streets,
sidewalks,
and Canadian earth.
And you looked on, laughing,
and I smiled as I danced.
It had been a long time since you laughed.
And, just as suddenly as it had started, the rain stopped.
And I stopped dancing
to catch my breath,
You did not stop laughing
but you did point at my shorts,
Laughing harder,
your eyes wet
from the rain or
your tears
I could not tell.
When I looked down
my tan shorts
had become translucent
in the rain
revealing dark black
Fruit-of-the-Loom
boxer briefs for all to see.
And I laughed with you,
my eyes wet
from the rain or
my tears
I could not tell.
We were happy and wet,
but mostly happy
for what seemed like
the first time,
which is why I’m telling you about it.
You have used the prompt to create a ballad. It has an element of mystery, which is repeated in the words “I could not tell.”
Andy, this is such a beautiful poem. I read it over and over again. You take a singular moment and capture it in vivid detail. You capture the sensory details with “dropped in buckets” and “air smelled of dirt” and your descriptions are clear and concrete (Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario and three-rowed GMC and Fruit-of-the-Loom
boxer briefs). Even though this is a personal memory, your detail and description pulls the reader in, and we watch the scene unfold with all its sounds and smells and sights–it is so sweet and silly and sad. Thank you for sharing your poem with us!
Andy,
The imagery and symbolism of water struck me deeply. Some parts playful, other tender with words of doubt with the “mostly” and the repetition of ” I could not tell” — the past, reflection.
These lines:
Laughing harder,
your eyes wet
from the rain or
your tears
Laughter and tears can go together in joy, but here there is a contrast implying layers of meaning and history.
Sarah
I am there with you in your moment as it becomes mine too, through the poem. The imagery, the vibe, the water everywhere, soaking through. What an extraordinary memory you’ve captured in your words today from a brief time that held such importance. This is beautiful.
Andy, you capture a moment – a snapshot in time – where vulnerability and the ability to laugh in the moment – is sweet and definitive. That simple moment is filled with such extraordinary living. All that is in there – – Canadians dancing in a street festival, a downpour of rain, an American in tan shorts soaked down to the black boxer briefs, and laughter to the point of tears where happiness and sadness meet at the seam of the street and smiles win – – much better than a Coke anyday!
Andy, I love this poem! I echo others in sharing that the lines “your eyes wet from the rain or your tears/I could not tell” and then the change to “my eyes wet from the rain or my tears I could not tell” were so moving to me. It paints such a poignant picture of a powerful and emotional memory. Thank you so much for sharing!
Andy — This poem is beautiful… a total journey. I loved the Jaughter and the dancing as rain bared not only your bidness but also the affection there…the connection to someone you really cared for — the sense of freedom in “catching my breath” and “your eyes wet/from the rain” and “an opportunity to dance/for once…” So much energy in those short lines that felt like the dancing itself. Really a sweet poem. I love this. Susie
Andy,
What a poignant poem about a defining moment in your relationship. Water is so key.
Both of you with your eyes wet from the rain or from the tears . . . powerful stuff.
And the fact that it seemed like the first time leads perfectly to the prescribed final line.
Having A Lemonade With You
is even more refreshing than
the sun shining its rays on me.
Or the cool breeze that envelopes my hair
and tingles my skin.
Or the waves of Manistee Beach engulfing
me like I’m its prey.
Or the fresh intake of water just as I get done
working out under the afternoon sun.
Or laughter into the night by the giant flaming campfire around us.
Or the revolving change of scenery with wintery cold bleary dark nights to well-lit nights under the stars in summer.
Or the crowd cheering wildly for our favorite basketball team as our favorite player drains a 3 within mere seconds of the buzzer.
Or even the simple things of life that we have right now.
Which is why I’m telling you about it
Alexa — I LOVE the descriptions sprinkled throughout this poem. These are just amazing: “envelopes my hair”; “engulfing me like I’m its prey.”; “giant flaming campfire”; and “revolving change of scenery” just to name a few. It is the simple things that make the biggest differences. Thank you!
Alexa, “the simple things of life that we have right now” are those that draw us so close, as you remind us. I love this picture: Or laughter into the night by the giant flaming campfire around us.
Laughter by a campfire – – what a way to love life!
Alexa, I loved your outdoor imagery like with the “cool breeze that envelopes my hair and tingles my skin”. These made me long for summer days enjoying the outdoors. Thank you for sharing!
Having A Glass of Wine With You
by Donna Russ, 4-16-2020
Having a glass of wine with you is the best part of my day!
The way you look at me;
The things you say
Without, even, saying a word
Makes me feel like
It’s just you and me in the world.
Your smile, your touch,
Send chills down my spine!
It’s the little things I love so much.
A toast to us; clink our glasses of wine!
Together, we’ve come a long way.
It’s no wonder that having a glass of wine with you is the best part of my day.
A toast to you! Donna — your poem captured those quiet moments I relish when it is just two people in love and happy just to be. Thank you for sharing.
Donna,
This is a really beautiful poem. You really brought love and joy into sharing a glass of wine! “The things you say/ Without, even, saying a word” is such a wonderful statement that makes me feel incredibly happy. These little things are sometimes what make days bearable. Thank you for sharing!
“The things you say without, even, saying a word……” I love that line. It brings to mind a favorite song –
You Say it Best When You Say Nothing At All (I like the Keith Whitley and the Allison Krauss versions best). Somehow just being with those we love and allowing the silence to speak is the best feeling in the world. And it’s only made better with a glass of wine. Cheers!
Donna,
Lines you write send chills down my spine as I recall and give thanks for comparable times with my Honey!
A toast to us; clink our glasses of wine!
Together, we’ve come a long way.
Thanks for reminding us to stop and savor the time…over a coke or a glass of wine!
“Having a cup of tea with you”
Having a cup of tea with you
is even more exhilarating than
opening a surprise letter from a friend
fresh out of the mailbox.
I never know what to expect,
will you notice it,
will you spend five minutes of our class time
speculating: is it good, sweet, nasty?
Is there more?
Is it Henny, Mrs. L?
Now, I have a cup of tea without you
which is not even as soothing as
turning on an old Wilco album
at the end of an extra-long school week.
These days, I know what to expect:
endless scrolling,
endless refreshing,
endless messaging,
endless changes in protocol,
endlessly missing your laughter–
which is why I’m telling you about it.
Laura — It is funny when our routines are out of whack because when they are in alignment we don’t often notice how much we appreciate them. I was drawn to the repetition of “endless” and it resonated with me because, like you, many of us want this “new normal” to end. Thank you for sharing.
Laura,
This is intriguing. I began wondering who the audience is for the poem, to whom the speaker is addressing, and then at the end of the stanza, it is Mrs. L. And the speaker is looking back, missing class. The repetition at the end is a sign that the “endless”ness of these activities is not nearly as nurturing as time learning with, alongside Mrs. L. And now I am wondering if you and Mrs. L can meet and share tea virtually.
Peace,
Sarah
Laura, the part that resonates most with me is:
These days, I know what to expect:
endless scrolling,
endless refreshing,
endless messaging,
endless changes in protocol,
endlessly missing your laughter–
The computer and Zoom and social media are no replacements for all of the nonverbal interactions we miss – – noticing the smile on receipt of a letter, laughing, and all of those other reactions that remind us we are human. We’re missing our people!
Laura, it’s not clear, or really important who it is with whom you shared a cup to tea. Your poem reminds me of the times I spent doing the same with my mother. These lines evoke that memory,
Now, I have a cup of tea without you
because she has transitioned to eternal life. One of our families poignant memories of her, as she lay dying, was her request to have a tea party. Thankfully, we were at a hospital who supported such last minute moments with those ready to transition for this life to the next. Mother, said, “I want lemon and honey in a china cup, not one made of plastic or paper!” The hospital brought a china cup!
I like it, so i knew what to expect but I enjoyed reading your moment and the comparison of then and now – some how change helps us appreciate the small things
This prompt got me thinking back about one of my first dates with my (now) husband…
Having Jamba Juice with you
is even more fun than going to Hawaii, Italy, Bonaire, Bryce Canyon
or being sick to my stomach after the 3rd time in a row on “Fury,” right before the park closed
partly because in your backwards hat and rolled up jeans you look like a skater boy
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for velociraptors
partly because of the baby ducks waddling around the sycamores
partly because of the confident way our hands find each other
it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as sad
as lonely as painfully boring as a classroom when right outside it
in the brisk April 5 o’clock air we are looking straight back at each other like a mountain greeting the sun
it seems the world is ignorant of this simple monumental experience
which was not wasted on us which is why I’m reminiscing about it
Rachel,
I loved how you use the technique of foreshadowing. The way you describe your memories to prepare for the present. The heart of this poem was “in the brisk April 5 o’clock air we are looking straight back at each other like a mountain greeting the sun.” This is when I knew as a reader that your experiences as a person shaped you to be who you are today. Thanks for sharing!!
Rachel,
This brings back an amusement park date memory. There’s something about being one couple in a crowd w/ the love butterflies commingling w/ the nervousness of anticipating a ride. Is the park you’re referencing Lagoon? I thought it might be since you’re in Provo, which also constructs an image of the Wasatch front in my mind as I read “like a mountain / greeting the sun.” Both your poem and Sarah’s connect me to common place you honor in your words. This is one of my favorite things about poetry, and the prompt Kim has given us today offers ample opportunity for making these connections. Thank you.
—Glenda
Rachel, thank you for sharing this poem with us today! I love the way you have painted this memory for us – it definitely made me think of some of the “early days” with my partner. These lines:
it seems the world is ignorant of this simple monumental experience
which was not wasted on us which is why I’m reminiscing about it
spoke to me. How you were able to capture the essence of sharing Jamba Juice into words blows me away!
Rachel, I definitely love the line “like a mountain greeting the sun,” but my favorite line is:
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for velociraptors
I love a poem that has something a little unexpected that leaves me wondering and yet reassures me that there are plenty of “inside stories” that are shared by the two whose confident hands always find each other.
Sharing a moment with you
Is even more Exciting than The music of the ice cream truck coming down the street.
More Extraordinary than any comic book hero.
More Thrilling than any scary movie, or even Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”.
More Mind-Blowing than the northern lights.
More Phenomenal than any “actual phenomenon”.
More Incredible than standing upon Everest’s Peak knowing you’ve conquered that giant.
More Breathtaking than ancient architectures.
More Amazing than the seven wonders of the world.
And yet there is one thing more exciting,
More Extraordinary,
More Thrilling,
More Mind-Blowing,
More Phenomenal,
More Incredible,
More Breathtaking, and
More Amazing…
And that’s You.
Malachi,
I so appreciate all your allusions:
More Breathtaking than ancient architectures.
More Amazing than the seven wonders of the world.
The images come to my mind in an instant, which could fill pages with descriptions, emotions, and history, and yet you do all of that with a clever reference.
Peace,
Sarah
You’ve given us the incredibleness of the “you” this poem is about. I love the comparison to the ice cream truck – it captures the excitement so well and transports the reader directly into that draw of the possibilities. I appreciate how your poem balances the comparisons with the restatements of them so simply.
I just love that you chose “sharing a MOMENT with you”! We’re all on here writing about sharing different drinks – but what it really comes down to is sharing the TIME that it takes to drink those drinks. The moments. 🙂 Beautiful! I also love the way you used capitalized adjectives (and repeated them), and this line: “More Thrilling than any scary movie, or even Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’.”
Malachi, your seven wonders plus one…..the way you list them and then rename each of the adjective feelings at the end – would make the “you” (whomever that may be) in the poem feel so loved!
Having lunch with you is sweeter than strawberry ice cream
And sends more chills up my spine
I feel as though I’m about to melt
And my brain freezes when you smile
Because you’re prettier than pink lemonade
And you leave me with the same tart taste
Because I’m red bean at the bottom of jasmine tea
There’s too much left when you’re done with me
Nikola, WOW! Thank you so much for sharing this poem with us today. You described that strawberry ice cream experience so perfectly. I love so many of the word choices you made in this piece. Pretty pink lemonade. Tart taste. Your poem grabbed me by the five senses. Amazing.
Nikola, the flavors come alive in this verse! From strawberry to lemonade to tart tastes and jasmine tea – – this brings out the aromas and tastes of springtime!
Having a coke with you
Is even more necessary than coffee in the morning
which is quite a necessity
but enough about necessities
What about you?
How was work?
Work was tough, it’s not easy being an essential worker
Not only do you make my life but you make the communities life,
literally
Well yeah, I did for awhile
What do you mean for awhile? You’re still going!
We’ve been over this
What?
You have to get over this, it’s not over, it will never be over
….
….
….
oh no.
I noticed you used the technique of relating to present events in the phrase “Work was tough, it’s not easy being an essential worker”; it’s effective because it really speaks to the problems we are currently facing as a society.
Turner, your use of dialogue gives a mysterious twist to the conversation. I like the use of “essential worker” as an “in the time of Corona” time stamp in your writing. Everything we write, related to the pandemic, is a primary source for coming generations. It’s interesting to think that six months ago, we would have read “essential worker” and wondered what that meant – – today, it’s another word in our vocabulary of the new normal.
Having a cake with you
Is even more wondrous than
A chocolate river flowing down a mountain or
A race car of flavor speeding down the track or
Just lots of money,
Going into my mouth, or
Maybe gold, or
Liquid gold, and silver two, or
Sparkling water with real-life flavor, or
An explosion of sugar in my mouth,
Like an atomic bomb, or
I guess what i’m trying to say, or
Do… i guess, can I…
have the rest of your slice?
Robin,
I love the visual imagery you portrayed to us about cake in this poem. I never thought of cake like this before and now it’s making me hungry. This is my favorite: “even more wondrous than a chocolate river flowing down a mountain.” I want that chocolate river of goodness. Thanks for sharing!
Robin, changing up a Coke for a cake is a sweet lover’s dream! This reminds me of a pre-William Carlos Williams “I Have Eaten the Plums” apology – – asking before eating, and that’s my favorite line: Do….i guess, can I….have the rest of your slice?
I love the way your voice shows through this poem!! Especially here: “or / Just lots of money, / Going into my mouth, or / Maybe gold.” And at the end: “I guess what i’m trying to say, or / Do..i guess, can I…” So fun to read! This got me laughing.
Having a coke with you
Is even more painful than I thought
Which is why I’m telling you about it
We collide
We crash
And there’s always an explosion
Like when you shake a coke before opening it
But we always come back to this moment
Sitting together
Talking and drinking a coke
Where I have to look you in the eye
And I don’t know which is more painful
Someone always exploding,
Or coming back like everything’s fine
your words really moved me because you give a much different, more heartfelt and sad take on this poem than what I would expect
Really revealing, bitter, sweet depiction of a couple who has one good moment. It’s that moment that keeps them together. Very moving. Thank you for sharing.
How insightful to compare the dynamics of your relationship to “shaking a Coke before opening it.” Though the image you create is painful, you develop it so cleverly.
Paige,
What a touching poem. I love how you displayed your feelings in reference to a coke exploding after being shook.
Thank you for this share,
Jess
Paige, you found another way to show our human nature in ways that relate to the pressures we feel in relationships. Your honesty at the end – posing the question of which scenario is more painful – is a place of discomfort and growth in one. Blessings to you – – I keep going back to the line, “where I have to look you in the eye.” Sometimes that is the hardest thing to do……
Paige — This poem is a smackeroo! You took me right to a place I’ve been… “we collide/we crash….” that explosion and “coming back like everything’s fine.” Ooooph! Really nailed this! The sense of something so simple as a coke together actually being a tough “look you in the eye” dis-ease is powerful here. Thank you for sharing this. Susie
Watching the birdfeeder with you
is even more fun than top chef dining in Chicago, Napa, & Amsterdam
or miles of hills, rocky passes, & raspberried knees in Cinque Terre
partly because in your bare feet I imagine the steady first steps that led you to me
partly because in your pale baby blues, I see the sun we’ve shared for twenty years
partly because your pearly whites hold no secrets, tell no lies for I know
as plainly as our ruby red Cardinal picks up a seed, hops to his mate, and
the two touch beaks that the melody you sing is not seasonal nor
is your attentive nature in our nest
in the breezy Stillwater sunset, magenta circles cerulean,
golden waves weave between embraces as I watch you
chase the squirrel from our Cardinals’ dinner dance.
I can’t get enough of the colors and images in your poem, especially: “raspberried knees in Cinque Terre” and “magenta circles cerulean,/golden waves weave between embraces as I watch you.” And, what a beautiful way to look at someone, through their care for the wildlife around your home.
I love “partly because in your bare feet I imagine the steady first steps that led you to me
partly because in your pale baby blues, I see the sun we’ve shared for twenty years”. That’s what love is, and the way you describe it is beautiful, especially seeing the sun in his eyes. Love the color throughout as well. Color is life!
Sarah,
I love the way you are embracing your Oklahoma home. The image of two cardinals beak to beak is so tender, an image I miss seeing. The lines “your attentive nature in our nest / in the breezy Stillwater sunset,” is a FB lovely parallel to those Cardinal lovebirds. Really, everything about this poem speaks of beauty. I love it all. Thank you.
—Glenda
It is hard to pick my favorite part in this. Your words are lush; they flow over me, making pictures tha are replaced by the next one.
Those beautiful colors give this poem depth…what a nice way to have a date.
Sarah,
This imagery and sensory language are amazing in this poem. I love how you describe this moment and the interaction between the birds and you.
Thank you for this share,
Jess
Sarah, I’m enjoying another pearly white poem today – – this one, thankfully, not falling out in dreams! The bare feet of steps that led to you, the blue eyes sharing sun with you, the teeth that don’t lie, and the attention that doesn’t wane seasonally with the birds – – what a lovely illustration of commitment in the “attentive nature in our nest.” You are truly blessed! And I love the appearance of your little stalker squirrel there at the end – – there’s no substitute for the resplendent simplicity of nature.
Sarah Sarah Sarah — Neruda, move over…. this is a love poem to beat ’em all. 🙂 This is beeeee-uuuuu-tiful! What a dance you’ve created between the cardinals “two touch beaks” and a glorious (and I do mean glorious) love of “you” –this is one doggone lucky love! The lines that nailed it for me were… “the melody you sing is not seasonal nor is your attentive nature in our nest….magenta circles cerulean/golden waves weave between embraces.” How loving! I’m sitting here staring out at my feeder as I write, and am so enamored by my cardinals doing exactly the beak bump you describe. Acts of love. Thank you for sharing such an intimate piece of love. Susie
Kim,
I love the prompt and your poem. Favorite phrase is “aperitific Aperol Spritz at the Ritz.” I giggled at the Miralax line. As others have noted, the alliteration is spectacular. Your poem bubbles like a Coke.
I wrote my poem about my sister.When students asked about my family I often told them we put the “fun” in dysfunctional before Oprah made it popular. This poem barely touches on this idea, but writing one as long as ”The Waste Land” takes more time and space than we have today.
“Having a Diet Coke with You”
Now is preferable to taking a trip in reverse,
A journey down nostalgia’s winding path
Returning us to our Kool-Aid kid not so care-free years,
Those days of mile-long walks to
Mark Twain Elementary,
Feeding dogs we met along the way
Leftover lunch bologna sandwiches and
Mayonnaise cake after learning the
Hard way not eating all our lunch meant a
Leg switching or a belt to our backsides.
We didn’t need to be told twice.
Sipping our Diet Cokes now we reminisce
About the mom who moaned and the one who hissed,
Your flapping pee sheets drying in the bedroom window, the
Spankings you endured for bad spelling and math test scores, the
Beating I got for cutting Barbie’s hair, the
Neighbor who poisoned our collie Dick Tracy, but
We giggle together when we
Recall taking that collie to Food Town and
You told the dog catcher, “No, mister, I ain’t seen no dogs” while
I hid with Dick Tracey in the closet.
We pause, tip our Diet Cokes to our lips, a
Gesture of silence, a time-out allowing our
Minds to travel to happy days:
Your dachshund Doogie Howser dragging His diapered ass into your back yard wedding,
Mom’s 3:00 a.m. arrival and anonymous departure before
You said your third “I do,” the
Time you visited and told me,
“Them boys need a dog. They need a big dog now,”
Your excuse to neighbors when
Doogie shit in their yards:
“Well, I’ll tell you. Dogs’ll do that.”
Having a Diet Coke with you
Now quenches our thirst for those
Idyllic Brady Buch memories, the
Ones we’ll never know, those
Flat Pepsi lives and their bland aftertaste,
Which is why I’m telling you this now.
—Glenda Funk
OMG, Glenda! I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard:
Your dachshund Doogie Howser dragging His diapered ass into your back yard wedding,
I was chuckling a bit with the pee sheets flapping in the window and the Barbie with the haircut…..that built the mood and feeling of humor, but by the time I felt a little tear for Dick Tracy’s poisoning, your sister made me laugh again with her dogcatcher lie, and THEN…….., you bring a diapered dog – a weenie dog, at that – to a backyard wedding, and – there are no words for the funny and happy my heart feels at that scene. I love the explanation to the neighbors, too “Well, I’ll tell you. Dogs’ll do that.” I’m wondering how I can incorporate it into all areas of my life where an explanation of anything is needed….. this is pure joy, and I hope you share it with your sister.
Your poem really does find the fun in dysfunction…I’m reminded of that definition of humor – “tragedy plus time.” These were the dog days of your youth! (Sorry for this.) There are so many laugh out loud images here – especially the dog in wedding – but I am drawn to the sweet, simple noticing: “…a time-out allowing our/
Minds to travel to happy days,” thinking how this is such a hallmark of adult siblings together, especially siblings with a painful childhood…I know this pause of which you speak, when you are together and quiet, remembering, stretching your mind for the happy.
Reading this, I imagine you drinking from real, glass Coke bottles.
! “Flat Pepsi lives”.—another treat for my notebook. Your life was a shaken up Coke bottle, spraying everywhere in the room! I love the tumult and humor here.
What incredible voice…thank goodness…because some of the details make me wince. Difficulties no kid should endure are here and I hate to have to acknowledge them even in poetry. Some kids home during distancing, I worry and pray for them. I love how the speaker has found a solid sibling relationship to celebrate…why she tells it now. This poem is a keeper.
Glenda,
I love, love this poem. These lines set up clever, humorous bits of a life shared and well-lived with promise of so many more:
We pause, tip our Diet Cokes to our lips, a
Gesture of silence, a time-out allowing
The “allowing” is what strikes me so powerfully — that there is a willingness to welcome what comes next with all the “Doogie shit.”
Sarah
Interesting prompt – something I’ve never heard of again. Thank you for sharing. Was almost not going to write this because yea not into love poems either, but this is what I came up with:
Having a coke with you
is almost more addictive than the smell of coffee every morning or
these days the satisfying cup I actually make or
long sun rays on my skin after being locked in or
sixty-degree pool water submerged around my steaming body after said sunbathe or
an oily, clove-infused bowl of pho topped with raw slices of beef for me ever or
fulfilling any food craving that I have ever or
butterflies that flap around my stomach from a touch or drop of thrill or
trying to capture a picturesque beach scape horizon at sunset with full moon or
the comfort of watching The Office reruns or
being alone in my own home
Something that may be nice to quit
But I know I’ll never let go,
Which is why I’m telling you about it.
Angie, I’m so glad you wrote – even though you’re not into love poems – look at the beauty that was born onto paper today! This is the part that is so inviting for me:
long sun rays on my skin after being locked in or
sixty-degree pool water submerged around my steaming body after said sunbathe
That is what we all are waiting for right now – that kind of sizzling sunbathing heat that makes us want to dive into a cool pool and come alive with energy! I also like that you pulled a bit of quarantine into the end, and spiced it up with some episodes of The Office.
This is beautiful – “Something that may be nice to quit/
But I know I’ll never let go,” this is so true about addictions, good and bad; your images are such lovely ones.
Angie,
I think the heart of this poem is “being alone in my home something that may be nice to quit but I know I’ll never let go.” It hits home the idea that addictions are hard to get over but the more you try the easier it will get. My favorite line though is “the comforts of watching the Office reruns.” I love the Office and I liked how you incorporated it to the piece. Thanks for sharing!!
It Depends on Where You Are
Having a coke with you is weird
‘Cause you don’t even drink pop.
When I was a teen and did drink coke, I drank Pepsi.
In college, it was “rum and coke”.
We lived in St. Louis, the drink was RC Cola.
In Texas, it was Dr. Pepper.
Coke became a generic word for any carbonated drink.
In St. Louis, they called it “sodie watta”.
When we lived in Western Mass,
We learned to ask for a “tonic”.
In California, they just said, “Gimme a soda.”
Back in Michigan, around Detroit, my home town, it was Faygo red pop.
If you were sick is was Vernor’s Ginger Ale.
Some folks call it a “spritzer”, the adult version with a little wine.
Having a coke with you is a memory map.
Fond memories of places we’ve traveled and lived.
“Cold drink” in Louisiana! 🙂 I LOVE your first line!!!!! Love. I love how you express different cultures in the poem. Lovely spin on this poem prompt.
Anna, you have taken us around the world in a glass today – reminding us of all the ways we can enjoy the gift of a drink with others – kind of like “You say tomato, I say tomahto.” No matter how we say it or what we call it, it’s never about the drink – – it’s always about the conversation that happens over the glass and the “memory map” we create when we share time with others. And all the same love and goodness for that ginger ale with saltines…..when we stay away from others for a time until the ginger ale can get us feeling level again. I love your map!
Anna, first, Dr. Pepper?? Had to get that out of the way, but, I love how you laid a road map with your choice of cola/non-cola! How everyplace had different words for the same thing, “sodie watta”, was my favorite. ♥️ We said, soda pop in Mississippi! Thanks for the journey.
Oooh, those last two lines gave me chills. The “memory map” you’ve drawn is so playful and loving. What you’ve done here would make for a great prompt!: trace an object throughout your travels. Thanks for sharing!
Anna,
I love the twist you have put on this poem. I especially love how your drink changes with every different place. I kind of see it as the drink representing different stages in your life.
Thank you for this share,
Jess
Dr. Pepper With You
Having a Dr. Pepper with you
is more refreshing than writing you letters
or hearing your voice over the phone
It like coming up for a fresh breathe of air
and realizing that I’ve been holding my breathe for years
It’s an experience that only we understand
and we understand that our Dr. Pepper talks are short
But we learn to cherish the time we have
and isn’t that what Dr. Pepper talks are about
realizing that we are worthy enough of having them
because others aren’t so lucky
Naydeen, I think you have coined a new term: Dr. Pepper talks. Kind of like Fireside Chats, and definitely more optimistic than White House briefings – – Dr. Pepper talks. I love the verve in your writing!
Naydeen,
It’s lovely to think about Dr. Pepper as an elixir, an opportunity to breathe after holding one’s breath. I love the subtext here given the history of Dr. Pepper as a curative. Thank you.
—Glenda
“Dr. Pepper talks”, “realizing that we are worthy enough of having them” – I know this is a relationship you love; so sweet.
Well, I confess, I am not a Dr. Pepper fan, but you have made it so appealing, I might have to give it another try! The line, ” It’s an experience only we understand”, speaks volumes to the fact that it is a time packed with meaning, no matter how short. Thanks for sharing.
Naydeen,
Love this idea of Dr. Pepper talk! Any time you need one, I am here!
Sarah
Naydeen, your poem reminds us it’s not “what” that is important; it is “who”. These are the lines that speak to me today,,
But we learn to cherish the time we have
and isn’t that what Dr. Pepper talks are about
realizing that we are worthy enough of having them
because others aren’t so lucky
Thank you for this fun poetry prompt! I loved all the refreshing water/liquid terms in your poem, making me so thirsty! Also got a kick from the phrase “smattering of what’s mattering…”
My goodness, the prompt was custom-made for writing about my husband and his daily Coke!
Having a Coke with you,
is even more insightful than your words,
the way you always,
whether in Italy,
Costa Rica,
a family vacation,
a day trip for hiking,
in our kitchen,
it makes no difference,
you always,
every single day,
indulge,
such ritual,
the way you
lay a napkin on the table
place the glass squarely on the napkin,
fill the glass with ice,
there must, must, must be ice,
then,
slowly,
pour,
just to the edge of the top of the ice,
leaving some deliciousness
still in the bottle,
sip,
savor,
then tell me that
these are your Georgia roots,
Coke is a Georgia thing,
there’s only Coke
there is no other,
then,
of course,
you refill the glass
before the ice melts,
until the bottle is empty,
kindly wipe down the table
with the damp napkin,
tend to the glass,
one satisfies.
You are
thoughtful,
committed,
caring, and
full of love and
good cheer.
Must be the Coke,
which is why I’m telling you about it.
Maureen,
This is wonderful and insightful. I love the listing of places leading to the specific concrete details of the daily coke ritual and ending w/ abstract qualities, such as thoughtfulness. I love the way you stretch the poem into a tall form that also emphasizes the longevity of your relationship. Thank you.
—Glenda
Maureen, this could be the next big marketing campaign for Coca-Cola. This snapshot that you have given us:
you always,
every single day,
indulge,
such ritual,
the way you
lay a napkin on the table
place the glass squarely on the napkin,
fill the glass with ice,
there must, must, must be ice,
then,
slowly,
pour,
just to the edge of the top of the ice,
leaving some deliciousness
still in the bottle,
sip,
savor,
then tell me that
these are your Georgia roots
The words that stand out most to me: savor and Georgia roots. Absolutely captivating, and please – – give your husband a Georgia high-five from me. I’m sure that he has shared with you our common tradition of putting salted peanuts directly in our Cokes as we drink them. People always ask me if that’s really a thing, and it really is. Conway Twitty and Loretta Lynn sang about it, too. I adore this poem and that you found a way to honor Georgia in there! Dr. Pemberton would be so proud! I seriously think you ought to send this to the Coca Cola company.
Coffee With You
For Dianne
Coffee with you feels like punctuation.
Commas, questions marks, exclamation points
marking the phrases of our lives.
So many sentences, so many paragraphs
So many chapters. Some joyous; some full of tears.
But what a wonderful book it is.
Coffee with you feels like such a long time ago
Coffee with you feels like the end of long walks in
New York winter, wind-driven snow stealing our breath
Anticipation of steam rising from a sturdy cup
Coffee with you feels like 2 AM let’s-not-go-home-just-yet
A table between us, too much cream and sugar
Talking about boys we lost, or wanted to lose, or wanted to win.
Coffee with you feels like small kitchens, silver percolators
burbling as we stumbled about, planning the day,
planning our lives (even though we didn’t know it then).
Coffee with you feels like “I haven’t seen you in forever”
But it doesn’t matter, because time is irrelevant
when you have spent so many years knowing each other’s hearts.
Coffee with you feels like coming home
to the person who knows me longest
knows me best, knows me deepest.
Sixty five years of friendship,
Coffee feels like love.
Coffee feels like us.
Let’s have coffee soon, my friend.
What a beautiful ode to friendship; here, poetically, I feel that ‘linger’ that one has with coffee…love the image of 2 am coffee – only for the young, I suspect! The language terminology of the first stanza is particularly sweet, “the phrases of our lives,” “so many chapters,” “what a wonderful book.” I hope you will share this poem with your coffee bestie!
Gayle,
I understand what having cofee with an amazing friend means! I could relate to so many of your lines “Coffee with you feels like coming home/to the person who knows me longest..” I absolutely love that line! Amazing and beautiful! Thank you!
Gayle,
This is a lovely tribute that says so much about friendship, and if I’m interpreting the poem correctly, also says so much about why you have not had coffee w/ your friend in a while. I love the nostalgic tone. Your poem reads like a warm cup of coffee in the readers hands. Thank you.
—Glenda
Gayle, this is an intimate expression of gratitude for moments shared over coffee with Dianne. I hope you share it with her! What strikes me is the jolting-awake feelings of coffee that you achieve with punctuation and varied sentences – – like waking up, with sudden jolts of awareness, and then a fluidity emerges after the awakening, and brings to mind the relationships that deepen over sharing a cup of coffee. I love it all, but these words strung together are my favorite:
silver percolators
burbling as we stumbled about
There’s nothing like percolated coffee! Your use of “burbling” after percolator makes me want to go pull out the percolator and listen to the burbles! This is heartwarming!
Having a Poem with You
is even more needed than
a Coke, my pick-me-up midday, just half a glass or
an in-person greeting, so brief as life hurries us past or
a hug, six feet of separation does little for bringing us together or
A bedside read at day’s end, my energy waning or
A conversation, spoken words difficult to find for an introvert
which is why I’m writing you about it.
Oh, what a great take on this prompt! Having a poem with you. I love the different perspective. That bedside read. yes.
Jennifer your twist of the bottle cap is what’s refreshing today! I love this unexpected perspective and the needs for contact – a hug, a greeting, a bedside read, a conversation. Your poem today IS that hug – – and I love your creative licensing in putting the proper spin on the bottle! Genius!
This celebrates the joy of this month of poetry writing together, during the pandemic – such a great opening line, “Having a Poem with You”…poetry energizes.
Jennifer,
I love this take on the prompt. I just read an email from Poem a Day about how many more people are reading and sharing poetry in this moment in time. If nothing else, maybe this moment in time will remind us how important art is to our survival. Thank you.
—Glenda
Love how you turned this prompt around! I’m finding my time writing poetry everyday and reading everyones poems is one of the happiest of my entire day. I love how you show the importance of being with others, but also how reading/writing can connect us and bring it all together. How it can lead to comfort, conversation, etc., but through the written word. That may have sounded like rambling, but I think you will get what I’m saying.
Kim!
A smattering of what’s mattering to me right now – I love the internal rhyme, the lightness of the word choices. I immediately thought of the slogan, “Have a Coke and a Smile” at the intro to your prompt, and this is what your poem does – brings a smile along with the Coke! (I had no idea Nasturtiums could be used against fungus – it’s interesting how knowledge is acquired throughout the day).
Jennifer, thank you so much for the nice words, and I’m glad it brought a smile. Every other line in the poem has some kind of personal story or connection, but I do not know where the idea of those nasturtiums came from. I read that they cure foot fungus, and I don’t know about that either. I don’t even think I have ever planted or seen a real life nasturtium. ??? Every now and then, the pen leads to strange places – and I kind of like following….
So much of our writing comes from that inner place, the knowledge planted years past. I’ve grown nasturtiums. They are bright, lively flowers, (think 70’s Woodstock and cottage gardens), and can be eaten (they have a peppery taste). It wouldn’t surprise me about a healing quality.
Kim, I’m fairly new to the five day writing challenges…but already I count the days until the next round. It’s so fun! Thank you for introducing me to O’Hara’s poem. It’s so casual in tone but so meaningful and heartfelt. What a gift. I usually say, “I don’t write love poems.” Ha! But, your poem with all the intimate details that show love…that miralax bottle…yep convinced me to give it a try. Because I’ve been writing with a theme of water all month, I included it in my poem too.
Having a Coke with You
is even more fun than a trip to Niagara Falls, Wildcat Gulley, or, under the bridge behind school
partly because in your faded 5K River Run t-shirt, you are more bubbly than in work clothes
partly because the taste of your lips after a swig of beer, partly the beer
partly because the bench on the pier where you said, so, will you marry me? is still there and so are we after weathering storms with no forecasts to help prepare.
partly because we got through spilled milk and diaper bags mummified sippy cups found stashed behind the couch even as we planned an anniversary trip to Paris – that layover in Reykjavik snacking on strange fish and chocolate
It is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as still as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as the jersey barriers piled up in the park why the city has to store them somewhere and yet, on our walks they do nothing to connect sky to field to ballpark to walking path, nothing to
bring back the feeling of the Seine…holding hands…saying, I will
which is why I’m telling you about it now
(c) Linda Mitchell #verselove day 16
And what a love poem this is! You should write them more often. I love “and so are we after weathering storms with no forecasts to help prepare” as a testament to what hanging in there with someone is really all about. The specificity in “snacking on strange fish and chocolate” allows us to visualize and taste with you. And your longing to return to “holding hands” despite life’s barriers is perfect.
Linda, I love that you followed the “partly becauses” in O’Hara’s original poem. Yes, I agree with Jennifer – you should write them more often – definitely! I love this line: “partly because the taste of your lips after a swig of beer, partly the beer.” I find taste the hardest sense to bring in to writing, but you do it here with masterful precision. I also love the proposal spot, and the line, “and so are we after weathering storms with no forecasts to help prepare.” That take on marriage – – the non-forecast perspective, is a testament to a strong hand hold through forces that arrive unnanounced. Those mummified sippy cups……oh my, the visuals I see and remember…..this is beautiful today, and I hope you share it with your strange fish and chocolate snacking partner. 🙂
I love the imagery of those mummified sippy cups…this is such a beautiful ode to marriage; so true, for all long-term relationships: “weathering storms with no forecasts.” You did weave in lots of water words!! Love this!
Linda,
I love the global feel of your poem w/ all the exotic places we dream of visiting juxtaposed to the mundane “spilled milk…and mummified supply cups.” My favorite part is “because the bench on the pier where you said, so, will you marry me? is still there and so are we after weathering storms with no forecasts to help prepare.” Such lovely imagery of love and life. Thank you.
—Glenda
This poem is so great! I love how the specificity of things make it deeply personal and yet universal. I love the detail of the running shirt because that’s all my husband wears on weekends. The casual “so, will you marry me?” to holding hands next to the Seine. I am jealous that you can pump out this kind of poem so early in the morning.
Kim,
I absolutely love your word choices and how the poem skips about in such a joyful manner with all of the alliteration. You caught my attention right away with “an aperitific Aperol Spritz at the Ritz” and then Splattering…colorful splendors of spring,” created such beautiful imagery. Thanks for sharing this fun poem and prompt today.
Thank you, Jennifer! I’ve been reading about the origins of the New York Poetry society in David Lehman’s The Last Avant-Garde, and this story about the Coke in the book caught my eye as something fun and joyful. Thanks for your kind words.