Thank you for joining us for #verselove, a 30-day celebration of poetry for April, National Poetry Month.
This celebration is open to all– preservice teachers, new and veteran teachers, teacher educators, retired teachers, people who work with youth, and parents (because you are a child’s first and life-long teacher).
While #verselove is a 30-day celebration offering teachers a supportive space and audience to nurture their writing lives, you are welcome to participate any way you wish, which may mean you write in the space offered here or you write privately in your notebook. Of course, you may want to just read, in which case you are welcome to write supportive comments to the writers in the comment section. We also hope that some of the writing ideas offered throughout the month will inspire writing in middle, secondary, and higher education classrooms, so please borrow and adapt the content any way you wish.
Each day, at 5:00 a.m. (CST) you will find a new writing idea posted here from teachers and authors across the country. Please bookmark this link for easy access: http://www.ethicalela.com/category/poetry/30-days-of-poetry/ . Feel free to write any time throughout the day. I prefer to write a poem before reading any others, but you may prefer a different routine. I like to set a time limit — 20 minutes– and be okay with whatever I can do. Some days will feel better than others. Perhaps as important as writing is reading, being a reader for others. Peter Elbow wrote, “To improve your writing you don’t need advice about what to changes to make…You need movies of people’s minds while they read your words” (Writing Without Teachers, p. 77). When you respond, offer the writer a movie of your mind.
Let’s begin.
Inspiration
A credo is a set of beliefs that drives thoughts and behaviors. A personal credo is one that is created by the individual, and not just one accepted by other people. The word “credo” comes from the Latin, and literally means, “I believe.” Today, let’s contemplate: What are your own guiding principles? What is your personal credo? (I also hope this will help us get to know one another as we begin this 30-day journey.)
Process
Your personal credo may come from thinking about these questions (below), but as an alternative, your poem can be an answer or response to these questions. Questions to get you going:
- What have your primary caregivers (parents, other important adults) taught or conveyed to you, through word and through action, about what matters most in life? (Try to think of three to five things.) Are these things also important to you?
- What do you believe is the purpose of life?What helps you experience a sense of purpose and meaning?
- When do you feel most happy and fulfilled?
- What generates in you a sense of wonder and awe about life and the universe?
- What are some basic beliefs, positive or negative, that you hold about human nature?
- List some (up to 10) basic core beliefs or simple truths that you live by. Core beliefs are those that represent your deepest beliefs about life, or principles by which you live.
- What qualities do you most appreciate in the following people? Your parents or primary caregivers. Your ideal life partner. The friends you most admire. The public figure or role model you most admire. The historical figure you most admire. The religious leader you most admire.
- What core beliefs or values have the most meaning to you, from your own faith tradition? What about other faith traditions that you admire?
As you compose, you may feel like a free-flow of ideas is most comfortable. I encourage you to just get it all out without care for form. Then, think about punctuation and capitalization the way Susan Steinberg does: part intention, part intuition. I found that parentheses were useful in helping create and respond to a credo (see my mentor poem below). In short, punctuation is not a matter of correctness but rather is symbolic of the ideas you are expressing, especially in poetry. Punctuation should serve your needs.
Punctuation for me is part intention, part intuition. It’s part compassion, part aggression. It’s part come-closer, part go-away.
Susan Steinberg on Punctuation
I have overused the semicolon. Because it links clauses that desperately want to be together. And in my stories, I often want to convey a certain type of intimacy. By which I mean a certain type of tension. A division.
In a workshop, I handed in a story that was mostly a series of parentheticals. A few of the students didn’t like it. But my professor said, “Parentheses are a really big bag.” And really. The narrator was a teenager going through hell. I needed a way to contain this.
If a free flow form is overwhelming for you or just not a good fit today, go for a short form with more structure in line and syllable requirements: tanka, lazy sonnet, haiku, quatrain.
Sarah’s Poem
“Be”
Be the change you wish to see in the world. Mahatma Gandhi.
When I found this aphorism a decade ago, I thought it was mine.
Bordering (often crossing) the line of the self righteous,
Gandhi humbled me, helped me see or seek
a way to peace that is to just be —
that which I dreamed, a longing, a plea…
A Google search of it gets nearly two hundred thousands hits.
And so, I am not alone in my need for this simply complex principle,
and yet when and where did he utter such a gift?
Might the context help me understand why I am failing?
Alas, I cannot find the source, but perhaps we can say
that it is a message conveyed through acts — not words or wishes.
Words are not enough (though I’ve made a career of and through them).
Wishing is quite easy (though one has to imagine how the world can be).
Acts of change, well, I fail time and again and again and again
to be the change I wish.
Be.
I
struggle
to
be.
I will settle for be-coming.
Your Turn to Write
Post your writing any time today. If the prompt does not work for you today, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Below are some suggestions for commenting with care. Oh, and a note about edits: The comment feature of this blog (and many blogs) does not permit edits. Since we are writing in short bursts, we all are understanding (and even welcome) the typos that remind us we are human.
* Sorry for starting a week late, but life was crazy and things are finally settling in. I hope it’s okay.
The Veil Has Fallen
Raise to always help others
Raised to care for others
Raised to be honest
Raised to not tell lies
Raised to believe that everyone is equal
The promise that knowledge is power
The promise that education is the way out
The promise that hard work pays off
The promise that people are good
Learning that truisms are just that, truisms
Learning that truisms make life sound better
Realizing we are not equal
Realizing that people can be selfish
Realizing that hard work does NOT pay off
The veil has fallen…
Things I’ve come to learn
You cannot change those who don’t want to change.
You cannot make people love you.
People have malice in their hearts.
People will envy you and your life.
Children are not always loved by their parents.
Children will have to grow up too fast.
The streets are not kind.
The streets will swallow you whole.
Light will not always save.
Light can seem distant and hard to find.
You people, children included, need to search for the light.
Rode the van to the foot-washing Baptist Church
Where we never really fit in, divorced mom and kid.
Married into the No Creed but Christ Campbellite movement
Where we took weekly communion in remembrance.
Found the small, eastside Episcopal Church
Where smells, bells, and old ladies welcomed divorced mom and kid.
Left the rich tradition behind to marry a Presbyterian
Where everything is done decently and in order by people of the Book.
Glorifying God and enjoying God forever,
My chief end, always has been and always will be.
Welcoming and affirming all who believe and all who do not;
My patience wears thin though with hardliners.
Praying whenever the impulse hits me and often,
My church is not just downtown but everywhere with anyone.
Life Lessons
Lessons learned in life
Began early
Always be courteous
Share, Be Honest, Work hard
Never give up,
Listen–
Growing up, life’s lessons were harsher
Life is not fair, Plans do change
Pain is a wicked barb-wire knot
Forming my guiding mantra: “Endeavor to persevere”
All the sickness, stress, irretrievable loss
Reminds me often of my Great-aunt Adeline’s advice
“When you’re at the end of your rope, tie a knot, and hang on.”
And amazingly I’m still here
Hanging by a delicate thread–
Embracing Henry David Thoreau’s adage
“There is no remedy for love but to love more”
A spiritual connection that anchors me and
Keeps me hanging on
Barb Edler
April 1, 2020
I love the image of hanging on. That is life right now.
Barbara,
I loved your piece. I especially loved how you put your family’s advice in “When you’re at the end of your rope, tie a knot, and hang on”. I also like you talk about life in a realistic form, not it is not fair, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hang on.
Credo: “I Believe” Written April 2, 2020
It’s okay to be selfish; but we have to care for others
The purpose of life is to love one another
I am happy and fulfilled when I have given my best
I trust in God and through him I am blessed
We are the same when you go beyond the surface
We are all here to love; it’s our God-given purpose
Donnetta, it is good to see you here. I can relate to your sweet “I Believe” poem in rhyme. There is a balance in finding purpose in giving of ourselves because we have been so blessed, and taking that bit of selfish time too. Your poem has the same proportions as I believe life has. A little for me, but mostly I find meaning in living my life in love for others.
Sarah, your words moved me this morning and I wish I had been able to soak them in yesterday.
I
struggle
to
be.
I will settle for be-coming.
This is exactly what I was struggling with the last two days. I can embrace and accept “be-coming” because I see hope in the process. No need to BE. Thank you.
That’s also one of my favorite quotes from Gandhi.
Things that brought me joy this week:
sidewalk chalk art
toe nail polish that changes color in the sun
generosity
new blossoms
facetime
generosity
sunshine
people taking walks
generosity
coconut dream tea brought to my desk
virtual dinner party
generosity
Sheri, I always adore the simplicity and streamlined thoughts of list poems. ” Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens……these are a few of my favorite things” comes to mind when I think about how very much I love this format for poetry. Each thought on its own line helps focus my mind on the powerful forms of joy that you are sharing here. I want a cup of that coconut dream tea, I’ll tell you that. Was it bubble tea? Because later this month, it’ll be National Bubble Tea Day, just in case you need to plan for another cup.
Sheri,
I love the repetition of “generosity” in your poem. It’s a lovely reminder of humans’ goodness.
—glenda
I agree. Subtle but strong.
Good morning Sheri, I too, was late posting so I am just reading your lovely poem. How grateful are we for the generosity in others during this time. I love the opening:
Things that brought me joy this week:
sidewalk chalk art
toe nail polish that changes color in the sun
I saw sidewalk chalk this week too and thought it was surely a child’s way to stay sane from all the social distancing. The toe nail polish made me smile. I wish mine would fade in the sun because no more mani-pedi for a long while. ?
Beautiful poem that gave me happiness and joy this morning. Perfect time to read it.
This poem gave my happy thoughts. We don’t have many kids in our neighborhood, so I don’t get to see the sidewalk chalk, but I’ve seen posts and pictures. I love how you come back to generosity. Sometimes the good it people comes out in time like this. I’m glad you have been the recipient of it.
Hi Sarah, I am late posting because today was a doozy! I promise to comment in the morning when my brain is not depleted.
I Believed in Her
by Stacey L. Joy
The urban dictionary says that Gloria
“always puts others before herself
and never truly acknowledges her beauty”
My mother’s only nephews called her Gogo
Everyone wanted to go with Gogo
Another nickname
Friends and bowling buddies called her Glo
Her love lit up the room
Gloria was also the high-school P.E. teacher
Mrs. Cooper
The Career Advisor and counselor
The respected educator
With 40 years in education
Gloria was adored as Mommie
Purest of people we loved
Pristine and popular
Someone everyone admired
Brilliant lover of words and puzzles
Follower of rules and righteousness
Smoker, Bowler, Badminton Champ, Bridge Partner
Wife twice but only once for love
We figured that out
I saw her mirrors of beauty and grace
Tilting amidst
Cracks
Ditches and
Manholes of secrets
Dark enough to cover eyes
In claustrophic fears
She never told the whole story
Of what made her afraid
Tunnels
Underground parking
Elevators
And honesty
I learned to live in rebellion
A fiery glo
Hoping to melt her down
To her truth
But did God give us each other
To show her how to fight
How to struggle and win
Or how to hide behind lies
Because we don’t matter?
Stacey,
First, I’m sorry about your bad day, but look what you wrote, this fabulous poem celebrating Gloria. Love the urban dictionary definition and its subtext. I see it reflected in those closing lines:
“ But did God give us each other
To show her how to fight
How to struggle and win
Or how to hide behind lies
Because we don’t matter?”
These lines will keep me thinking a long time. And I hope tomorrow is a better day.
I, too, thought long about the shift in this poem that follows the beginning like a shadow. We humans are complex and you captured complexity in this portrait of your mom.
Stacey, I hope you have a better day today. You and I both seem to write so much about our mothers because we loved them so much and their memories live so strong in us. Your mother wore a lot of hats – was called endearing names by all who loved and knew her – and I especially love this line:
She never told the whole story
Of what made her afraid
That, to me, seems to be a form of courage in protecting those she loved. Her way of carrying on and forging ahead to do what she had to do to live life. I love that kind of spirit in a person when I see there is something there – and someone carries on despite the scars it has left. A quote from Nothing to See Here by Kevin Wilkes: “You took care of people by not letting them know how badly you wanted your life to be different.” There’s so much love in that. Your poem is simply beautiful!
Stacey,
I returned this morning, hoping to see a poem by you. Yours always provoke me so.
This is so raw and honest. What we learn from our moms . . . from the unsaid and undone as much as anything.
I love
“She never told the whole story
Of what made her afraid
Tunnels
Underground parking
Elevators
And honesty”
how the first three are typical things that scare people and then the POW . . . honesty.
Stacey,
Thanks for participating– despite a tough day–so “teacherly” of you. My favorite device in your poem is the use of proper nouns as with names: Gloria, Gogo, Mrs. Cooper; as with titles:The Career Advisor, Smoker, Bowler, Badminton Champ, Bridge Partner, Mommie. They personalize and allow visualization in any narrative, poetic or prose.
Stacey, this is so beautiful, a tribute told in honesty and love. I was invested from the beginning, but when you wrote “manholes of secrets dark enough to cover eyes,” I delved in deeper with you. I love that you lived “a fiery glo” nodding to her buddies nickname for her, and that it happened in rebellion adds another layer to your relationship.
Your poem is so powerful, Stacey! The images and pacing of your poem is truly moving. The end is so thought-provoking and the question of whether we really matter is so universal. Kudos!
I like Glo. While she is yours, she sounds familiar.
Thanks to my wonderful colleague and friend, “Dr. D.” who left a poetic legacy at Plum Grove Jr. HIgh, I’m in the midst of hosting the annual Plum Grove 30 Days/30 Poems Challenge on KidBlog.com. This has blown up into quite the project with over 100 kids signing up to start the challenge. E-Learning has forced us to promote (in a good way) the contest directly through teachers instead of “morning announcements” at my school. Tomorrow’s prompt for our contest fits right in with today’s prompt here on Sarah’s site. “A Few Things I Believe” – that’s a credo, right?
Here’s my poem I’ll be posting as a sample for students tomorrow inspired by a poet named Rudy Francisco: https://vib.by/v/m1vsSCO1t
I Believe
I believe one good cup of coffee savored in the morning is better than ten gulped on the fly,
And a slice of pizza on a Friday night is the best way to end a busy week.
I believe the sound of waves gently crashing on a sandy beach is music to the ear
And sunshine is better than any medicine or vitamin I could take.
I believe my mom’s homemade peach pie has a touch of Heaven sprinkled inside
And the warmth of her hug will be a memory I can savor forever.
I believe being cooped up in my house like a chicken in a cage can lead to despair,
but the connection of a human voice on the phone is a remedy.
Julie, How fabulous to have students write poetry during this difficult time. I believe this format is a wonderful way to show students they are poets, and it’s a format I used at times for character analysis w/ high school students.
—glenda
Julie,
Thank you for a wonderful new format, and I may try this with my own students later this month. I’m also featuring some poems online so that students – or parents – or anyone else – can come write poems any day in April. Love your believe statements, but that peach pie with the sprinkling of heaven and a hug is simply a divine image.
Julie, I stopped to listen to Rudy’s poem before yours. What a great way to write a credo. My favorite lines from your lovely belief poem is this: “I believe my mom’s homemade peach pie has a touch of Heaven sprinkled inside / And the warmth of her hug will be a memory I can savor forever.” Beautiful. It brought me warm memories of my own mom’s sweet hugs and homemade bread. Thank you for sharing your heart; it spoke to mine.
Posted above. Had some glitches.
Good morning Julie,
I was late posting so I am just now reading yesterday’s posts. What a beautiful way to begin my day. I am a fan of Rudy’s, seeing him live is the most gratifying experience. I don’t know if I saw that particular piece though and I absolutely love it. Now I am interested in sharing it with my students too. Thank you for that resource. I’ve never used Vib so I will see if it will easily share to my students via Google Classroom.
Your poem. The opening seals the deal on safer at home:
“I believe one good cup of coffee savored in the morning is better than ten gulped on the fly”
Thank goodness for the morning coffee in a cup and not my commuter thermos. I have not used it since we’ve been out of school. Wow.
As I type this, my bluetooth speaker is on high because my background music is ocean waves. You are hitting every mark with me this morning.
Nothing is better than sunshine and a warm hug from our moms. Memories to savor.
Love it! Thank you for this beautiful morning peace you’ve shared.
Stacy,
I think it’s so cool you have seen Rudy Francisco live! I hit on Rudy accidentally when looking for ideas! The simplicity of his poem is attractive and great for students. Thank you for your kind comments as well.
I promise that this poem mentions all the things I like. It is so simple and relatable. That last line has me thinking that I better makes some phone calls today. Get choice to share with students.
Julie, I so enjoy the simple pleasures that you share through this poem. I can relate to your last line. I so love a phone call rather than receiving a text. The connection between people is more important now than ever. Thanks for sharing!
What I Learned in Scouts
By Shaun Ingalls
I remember Cub Scout meetings,
After school in the multipurpose room at St. Ann’s –
Perhaps we were Webelos – such a strange word –
I imagined we would learn to survive in the world of Grizzly Adams and Rooster Cogburn,
of Gus McCrae and Woodrow Call.
Hiking up rocky cliffs under canopies of pine and aspen,
Fording roaring mountain rivers,
And warming our hands on the fire we made with flint and steel.
I don’t think we ever left that sometimes cafeteria, sometimes bingo hall.
Years later, at Camp Roger, it finally happened!
Weighed down with packs full of scouting gear:
Duracell flashlights, Pringles, Tang, peanut butter sandwiches, Off!
Led by men whom I admired and wanted to become,
We navigated winding switchbacks and scree slopes that opened into
verdant fields of Indian paintbrush and lupine meadows.
At each campsite, along each trail, our leaders demanded,
Leave every place you go better than you found it!
In the forest, on the beach, at the park, on the moon.
In your classroom, at the neighbor’s house, at the library.
In the courtroom, in the bar, in the White House.
Shaun,
That final line packs a punch. I don’t think the current occupant participated in scouting, which is quite popular where I live. I smiled at the allusions to Rooster Cogburn, Grizzly Adams, and the other fictional outdoorsmen in a back lot, a parallel to the cafeterias and bingo halls. I notice lots of moves like that in your poem. “Leave every place you go better than you found it.” Love the way you led us to this credo. Thank you.
—glenda
Webelos is a strange, but interesting, word. I appreciated the contrast of these two lines:
I imagined we would learn to survive in the world of Grizzly Adams and Rooster Cogburn,
of Gus McCrae and Woodrow Call.
*******************************
I don’t think we ever left that sometimes cafeteria, sometimes bingo hall.
One of my credos is “Leave every place you go better than you found it!” and appreciate your last two lines.
Shaun,
I love how you slide the credo in there after stanzas of beautiful, rich detail.
The end is so powerful . . . all of the prepositional phrase where a Boy Scout should practice that credo, landing on the top office in the world. Wow. Perfect.
Shaun,
This is beautifully written. Wonderful word choice that kept me in your bingo hall/cafeteria and later out to the scree slopes with Indian paintbrush and lupine-covered fields and meadows nearby.
What a great lesson you learned from scouts, and a great credo for everyone. I love how you slowly revealed your credo, and you applied it to all of us. Thank you.
Shaun,
First of all, I’m married to an Eagle Scout/Assistant Scout Master/Cub Scout Den Leader, live with a 17-year-old whose Eagle Scout project is now on hold, had a grandfather who worked as a professional Boy Scout in HR throughout MI, WI, and IL, and grew up going to Pinewood Derby’s to watch my brother’s (Dad’s?) car race down the pinewood track each year in the Methodist Church basement! I loved your poem and, as other have said, how it flows from your Scouting experiences to your final lines that connect your credo to the world in such a profound way. Thank you for sharing!
Julie
Shaun, what a phenomenal poem. I laughed at Webelos as I do think one of my sons was once a Webelo. I am so impressed with the precise details and word choice you use to share your scouting experience. The message at the end is what really resonates and has such a resounding impact. I, too, would hope people would make a real effort to leave places better by their presence.
The “movie” in my mind saw my own brother’s dressed as Webelos and Cub Scouts.. I pictured my own lunchroom/auditorium multi-purpose space at Sally D. Meadows Elementary school where I saw them earn badges and certificates, where we shared pot-luck cakes. with other families. I love your use of concrete specific details and the juxtaposition of your imagined world vs. the reality. You take us on the hike with you, complete with more concrete details and specific images–Pringles!– and we see what you saw: verdant fields of Indian paintbrush and lupine meadows. The last stanza moves your credo from the indoor and outdoor Scouts spaces to all of our spaces. Thank you for making a space and sharing your poem!
Core Beliefs
Whatever you feed grows
focus on positive thoughts
linger a little longer in joyous memories
Love forgives all wrongs
It is blind to judgement
and is a perfect concealer
A quiet response softens anger
Don’t be too quick to judge
forgive, forget, move on
Melissa,
This is a lovely reminder of what in life matters most. “Don’t be too quick to judge” is something I’m constantly working on. Thank you.
—glenda
Melissa,
These core beliefs sure capture a life well-lived.
I love the line “linger a little longer in joyous memories.”
Good morning,
The simplicity is powerful. Reminds me of when we are little kids being asked to remember what a parent has just said, not realizing it would save us throughout our ENTIRE adult lives. I love “Linger a little longer in joyous memories…” I will stay right here and do just that.
Thank you.
As a Christian woman, i feel this poem summarizes much of the teachings in Scripture. I love the line “linger a little longer in joyous memories”. I don’t we linger long enough sometime. Maybe we will develop the habit now that we have to sit and stay a bit longer right now. Great poem.
Melissa,
I love how you say “Love forgives all wrongs”, because I have defintely felt that I have forgiven those who I love more than those who I don’t. I also love how you say at the end for us to “forgive, forget, move on”. Thank you for the great piece.
my credo
a shift in my life left an empty space
I missed caring for her
a layer in my life lost
more natural with my daughters
the connection extends beyond words and space
though the umbilical cord has been cut
what they need is found intuitively
not through a great laid plan
is intuition led by the heart in the context of the head?
a lesson taught goes well
a hike to a desired summit
with an aging body, the desire to reach the destination keeps me going
the hoja santa leaves show me they survived the not so cold winter
mint sprawls out from its corner
they thrive as they push out from the soil
The alliteration in the opening lines is delicious.
Jamie, as a new sexagenarian, your expressions of aging resonated with me. Your poem pulled me in with its sounds, its thoughts. Thank you.
Jamie,
The growth imagery at the end reminds me of our resilience, a will to survive, to push toward the summit, which I can relate to given my age. I’ll be pondering this question for a while: “is intuition led by the heart in the context of the head?“ Thank you.
—glenda
Things I’ve Come to Value
Hold onto love.
Embrace your loved
ones as if you are
traveling to an unknown
destination.
Listen carefully before
disclosing your ideas,
before judging, and
before convicting.
Don’t play with matches
for you don’t know
what conflagration
will ensue.
Cry as a manifestation
of your love for the
person in pain and
your pain.
Be clear in your
communication.
Share your emotions,
your aspirations, and
your frustrations.
Give thanks profusely.
Appreciate the sensitive.
Apologize quickly.
Clarify misunderstandings.
Honor those who advised,
counselled, and helped
you become you.
Wipe away the tears.
Provide for those in need
as you are able.
Oh wow. First I highlighted
“Embrace your loved
ones as if you are
traveling to an unknown
destination.”
Beautiful simile.
Then I highlighted
“Listen carefully before
disclosing your ideas,
before judging, and
before convicting.”
I NEED THIS LESSON DAILY.
Then I highlighted
“Cry as a manifestation
of your love for the
person in pain and
your pain.”
I think this is my favorite stanza. Beautiful.
Your final lines:
“Provide for those in need
as you are able.”
brings together your rich and heart-rending credo. I loved this.
Zacarias,
This metaphor in the middle has me thinking about the myriad ways so many in the world test the fates:
“Don’t play with matches
for you don’t know
what conflagration
will ensue.”
I told my husband this evening that this moment feels like national karma. As a country we’ve played w/ matches often. I admire the directness and brevity of the many credos that complete the poem. Well done. Thank you.
—glenda
Zacarias,
Your short lines propel this forward in a very powerful way. It’s such a wonderful listing of great advice.
Cry as a manifestation
of your love for the
person in pain and
your pain.
I can’t really describe what this does when I take it in. I am a crier especially for others. I feel this deep in my heart. Love that you used manifestation with crying and love.
Give thanks profusely
GRATEFUL this morning, for you and your poem.
Zacarias,
I enjoyed reading the things you have come to value, and come to the realization that I value some of the things you do. “Cry as a manifestation of your love for the person in pain and your pain”. I often feel the pain of others and I don’t think people should distance themselves from others pain. I also enjoyed when you wrote “Honor those who advised, counselled, and helped you become you”. I think so many people have a part of us becoming who we are in those life, even those who have done us wrong. Thank you for your piece.
“He Would Love First”
A mysterious quote
Its creator is unknown to me
A beautiful line that was wrote
He would love first
I believe it covers all
As a teacher, I sometimes want to burst
I feel Like I’ve hit a wall
I’m upset, at my worst
I simply think back to
He Would Love First
Kole, what a powerful message you have shared here. Can we LOVE FIRST? This might be the best two-word credo I’ve read all night! Thank you.
Kole,
There’s much power we as teachers derive from loving first. Some years I didn’t realize how important that is, but I learned and know loving first reaps benefits for both teachers and students.
—glenda
Cole,
I had never heard this “He would love first” and I love it.
Thanks for this beautiful poem.
Thank you for this reminder.
Mr. Ruiz,
Your message is so…simple.
“Be impeccable with your word,”
but my internal voice spews its poison at my face.
“Don’t take anything personally,”
but my insecurities pull their blanket over my head.
“Don’t make assumptions,”
but my paranoia casts its spell on my mind.
“Always do your best,” but my best cloaks itself with invisibility.
Mr. Ruiz,
Your message is so simple, but what’s in my head is…not.
Tracie, I’m so glad you decided to take the leap and trust us with your poem and your deeply personal thoughts! The angst is palpable in this piece. I wish I could give you a hug and let you know you are perfect just the way you are! I love your use of personification.
Thanks for pushing me outside of my comfort zone! You’re such a terrific friend and inspiration. I’m glad to have a safe place to self express now.
Tracie, I love the dialog you’ve created in this poem. I can HEAR you wanting to believe Mr. Ruiz (a teacher, I assume?) as he guides you wisely. Your response/hesitations give power to your poem. Through it, I hear your longing to believe his guidance. Lovely.
Rules for My Life
Be kind, especially when you don’t want to be.
Kindness will kill their bitterness.
Do your best, always.
But remember, you define your best.
Never settle, no matter who thinks you should.
It is your life to live, not your parents’ or your friends’
Listen to music that makes you happy,
And find someone who will sing along with you.
Eat the chocolate, unless you’re trying to get a cholesterol test.
Then make sure you get your 24 hours in.
If tomorrow is a bad day,
Tomorrow may be different.
Now just remember.
I loved your poem! The chocolate and cholesterol part really spoke to me. Love the concrete details in your lines. Thank you!
This is wonderful. The contrast between the serious and the frivolous (chocolate!!) and the last—now just remember. If only we can…
Trisha,
It’s getting close to midnight (yikes!) and I’m just now reading poems. I like your “credo”. I can actually hear the voices of people in my life giving these “commands” you incorporate into your poem… Be kind! my mom), Do your best! (my grandmother), Eat the chocolate! (teachers I know! Thank you for sharing your poem today.
Julie
we need literacy for real revolution~
alpha and omega of my career
and now the poor children, especially the poor children
cannot learn
immature bickering adults accidentally spell doom
Abbie,
You say a lot in just a few words! I especially like the use of “alpha and omega of my career” as it gives testimony to the staying power of literacy and the strength of your personal belief.
Thank you for sharing today.
Julie
Abbie,
You captured the inequity that has been put in sharp relief in our current context. So many juxtapositions:
alpha/omega, poor children/immature bickering adults, literacy / spell doom.
Thanks for sharing,
Sheri
Abbie,
Such a powerful punch you deliver!! I love the economy of words yet the expanse of ideas!
Sarah, you are helping us change into a supportive community of writers risking and being vulnerable to colleagues in our profession. While you’re becoming, you’re nurturing an environment for us to become, too. That’s Ghandi enough for now.
Thank you.
Grow
Teach a man to fish –
-or garden-
and he’ll eat forever
BUT
What more does the garden offer beyond nourishment?
Or
What else does it nourish?
There is more joy in a sun-hot tomato bursting with red red red
If you’ve eaten a big, red tomato from your own garden
held it like an apple and sunk your teeth through soft flesh
-you know what the color red tastes like
Deep Luscious Satisfaction
I made this
Or more-I made it possible for this redness to grow to its fullest potential
The growing was inside it all along
I just had to crack the shell and show it just how luscious it could be
A sun-hot tomato bursting red red red. What a beautiful image. My favorite part of summer in eight perfect words!
Val,
Having grown tomatoes I know the truth of what you say in this delicious extended metaphor.
—glenda
24 Hours
What a difference a day makes
As the morning sun breaks
I can decide
If it’s do or die
Do I wanna try
Or am I just getting by?
Eleven years living clean
Given the dream
Waking in the beam
Started from one tiny
Seed.
Retching on my knees
begging God
“Please.”
“I can’t.”
“Not for one more day.”
What a difference a day makes.
Today.
Is.
The.
Day.
Oh, Jodi, this was so moving. I loved how your rhyming had a rap feel. Retching on my knees/begging God/”please” (LOVED THIS)
Your poem made me think of “one day at a time” in a new way. I saw the last four lines as individual days.
Well, assuming your poem is autobiographical (as mine was), congratulations. <3
I love the shape of your poem it starts broad in concept with the longer lines, then comes down do the idea of one day comes down to one word per line. Beautiful. Your well-placed rhyming also moves the middle along at a pace like the racing mind you describe. Also beautiful.
I also thought it was interesting that both of us used seeds as an analogy. Is it because it's spring? 😉
Oh, Jodi! You struck a nerve within me with this honest expression of pain that is your poem! I have several addicts who struggle daily to remain sober and depressed loved ones who use every ounce of strength to see another day. “Walking the beam” so perfectly captures these challenges. “Retching” evokes so many awful senses.
One day at a time. One moment at a time. Your poem inspires me to take one step at a time and be present for it. Thank you for sharing!
From My Open Hand
I give you
the benefit of the doubt
quick and generous laughter
rose tint on that glass
tilted toward the #IowaSky
a job that suits your skills
and leaves soft petals
as your footprints
I give you
gravel to run on
a new skill to learn
evidence of synergy:
a Broadway musical
a complex interstate cloverleaf
a four-leaf clover
the First Amendment
I give you
a chance to be kind (take it)
a chance to forget that slight (take it)
a chance to step up (take it)
a poem to write (write it)
This is lovely. What a gift from the open hand are all the ideas here. So much here to love. I love “rose tint on that glass.” I love the parallel between the complex interstate cloverleaf and the four leaf clover. Your poem feels beautifully personal.
I’ll take it. <3
Oh,
Allison. I will take all of it.
What a generous poem for a difficult time. As always, your words warm my heart.
I love how the (take it) shows encouragement as does (write it). How many times do we plead with others to just take that chance?
Allison — I feel that open hand…a giving pose–“leaves soft petals/as your footprints” — the gentleness of the act of giving comes through so well with the tonality of the first stanza. The images I love the most are “I give you gravel to run on” and giving “a chance to forget that slight.” the emphatic “take it” “take it” “take it” “write it”… has such strength… almost an admonition in the way it repeats and urges “you” to wake up and act… use this giving and make a difference. Glad to spend April “with” you. Thank you! Susie
Allison, I can picture every line. This poem truly represents your credo!
Wow! I love the surprises tucked into these lines…chances to be kind and forget and step up. The rose tint on the glass makes me smile. What a lovely gift this poem is….and then, the gift of a poem to write. Just beautiful.
Allison,
Your poem reads as an offering, hands outstretched w/ gifts for the taking. I often told students writing is a gift they should embrace, they should take. Thank you.
—glenda
Allison,
Your poem is so thoughtful . . . both considerate and full of thought.
I love how you took the challenge and made something more rather than just rambling about things you thought you believed like I did. I love what you have created and how you definitely heeded the challenge to use punctuation inventively; it’s clear that you followed intuition and it really works!
Allison, I am so moved by your poem. I love the specific details and the lessons specifically being taught that you share. The imagery is so strong, but the ending lines are incredibly powerful, and I relish how you created this final ending sequence!
PARENTAL ADVICE
No, I’m not being mean.
It’s exactly what I mean.
Not just when times are lean.
It’s what inside, not what’s seen.
You must learn
To live within your means
And never spend more than you earn.
Tithing and saving’s the way to live.
Always be ready to share and to give.
When you give, you’ll be blessed
God will take care of all the rest.
When prices go up and down
You’ll have funds in the bank.
No matter your social rank.
Live like this when I’m not around
You’ll see what we say is true.
That’s how we’ve managed to take care of you.
Anna, I can hear the wisdom of parents and grandparents in this…and these two lines, “Live like this when I’m not around
You’ll see what we say is true.”, they strike me as particularly poignant. I am thinking about all the advice that echoes in my mind from my Mom, my aunts, my grandmothers. I really enjoyed the rhyming cadence.
I felt these lines in my bones:
“Live like this when I’m not around
You’ll see what we say is true.
That’s how we’ve managed to take care of you.”
I hear my parents. I hear me. Thank you for sharing these truths with us!
The old fashioned advice is advice that sounds very familiar to me. I read the lines as I used to hear them as love.
Beautiful advice, and so true! I love the double play on it’s what’s inside, not what’s seen.
Clever, and a beautiful reminder of the importance of giving. I needed to hear this today.
Anna,
Solid advice for our teens , college students, or young adults in the world. I especially like the ends… ‘That’s how we’ve managed to take care of you.” Setting the example is all we can do!
“I hope he doesn’t become a
humanitarian.”
He means
a soft pushover
a floofy people-pleaser
someone who believes in
the “good” in people
alternatively,
perhaps an engineer or a scientist
someone left brain
logical, powerful,
respected.
I look at the tiny baby in my arms.
Do we not have one without the other?
Humans connected on this earth
whether we embrace it or not
you think: every man for himself
but that’s never been true.
Ripples in a lake
one domino is all it takes
to move a million.
Chants from the temple
“I am a link in Amida Buddha’s chain of love that stretches around the world.
I will try to be gentle to every living thing,
and protect all who are weaker than myself.”
This baby,
may his link be bright and strong.
Emily, thanks for the reminder that we must teach this to our babes in arms,
Do we not have one without the other?
Humans connected on this earth
whether we embrace it or not
you think: every man for himself
but that’s never been true.
Ripples in a lake
one domino is all it takes
to move a million.
Emily, I found this poem very provocative, making me so curious about the two who were dreaming about the baby’s future – were they partners? was this the parent of the parent? These two lines are so true, I believe: “you think: every man for himself
but that’s never been true.” Your poem makes it clear that not everyone sees it that way.
I love poems and stories that open with action; this concrete opening reflection made me chuckle out loud because it was so real, so honest: “I hope he doesn’t become a/humanitarian.”/He means/a soft pushover/a floofy people-pleaser/someone who believes in/the “good” in people” Floofy is such an accurate descriptor for those who perceive gentleness and kindness as weakness.
When will society change in that those who live as humanitarians will no longer be seen as “pushovers”?
Good morning Emily,
I am grateful I was able to enjoy your poem today, this morning, rather than during the night when my brain was like mud. I love how you consistently show us how strong you are with your baby and your choices. Going against the parental pressures, family expectations, so that you can create the love and the life that you and yours deserve. You’re a Shero! Wear that cape my friend.
Ripples in a lake
one domino is all it takes
to move a million.
You are the domino. ????????
See the need.
a request
an imperative
a demand
See the need.
My father’s motto for
chores: take out the garbage, help with the groceries, empty the dishwasher
sports: go to the ball, step to the plate, move towards the play
life: serve the church, volunteer in school, initiate projects, create your own opportunity
See the need.
Don’t wait to be asked.
Don’t wait to be told.
Don’t wait for an invitation.
(“See the need…” coming out of my own mouth during
my first post-college job
my first leadership role
my first staff evaluation
“…I need you to show some initiative. You can’t wait to be told what to do. I shouldn’t have to ask you to work on future lesson plans or supervise a new spot at recess or help other mentors prep for Friday clubs. Just see the need.”
“I said see the need today at work,” I lament to my brother over the phone, over the two time zones, over the miles and years away from our daddy’s favorite mantra. )
Words we swore we would never say became
a personal value
a professional goal
an emotional hairshirt
What do I do but see the need?
a need for social justice and social action
a need to teach tolerance and kindness
a need to clothe and feed the children
a need for gender and racial equality
a need for environmental consciousness
a need for mental and emotional health
a need for trauma-informed care and instruction
a need for learning
What do I do but see the need?
tutor after school
direct the one act play
chair the planning committee
lead the professional learning group
volunteer for the field trip
present at the conference
attend the training
re-deliver the training information
coach the literary team
judge the speaking competition
practice mock interviews
read and edit resumes
write letters of recommendation
watch the concerts and sporting events
donate time and money to the fundraisers
What do I do but see the need?
“Why don’t they care as much as I do?” I sputter through hot, angry tears.
“I shouldn’t have to thank you for cleaning the bathroom!” I scream through clenched
teeth at my first live-in boyfriend.
“How can you just leave at 3:30?” I mutter under my breath with a sigh and an eye roll.
See the need.
a request
an imperative
a demand
If only every person would step in when the need appeared. What a better world we would have. We recognize that strong connection you have to your father’s words and how they became ingrained in you as you moved through life, shaping your choices and molding you into a person of action. Thanks for sharing with us today.
An emotional hair shirt. I’m fully planning on stealing that line! I resonate to this poem! The need, when that is how you are raised, becomes just that—an imperative. I must say that as I have become older, I have learned to say no more often and resent less…
See the need – such a seemingly simple directive. I hope you also see the need to take care of yourself while you are serving others.
I love this, Betsy. How “see the need” is simply who you are . . . you don’t know how to be any other way. I love how powerfully you say things in threes.
While this is personal, I’m using my teacher glasses to tell you only a few of the aspects of this poem that amazed me. While I agree with every comment made prior to mine and could say so many more, I’m going to limit myself to “three stars”: 1. the exhaustive yet concrete lists hyperbolically AND honestly enhance the total lifelong implementation of this mantra 2. the succinct yet specific and personal anecdotal quotes that follow exhaustive lists provide a cool contrast 3. The “life” of this poem–your life–is framed by the repetition of the opening stanza as closing–excellent and appropriate use of inclusio.
So small.
Just a speck, smaller than a speck, in the grand universe.
Sometimes I feel it, the magnitude, the greatness, pressing in around me—
threatening to overcome me.
The weight of my own
insignificance.
I am fragile,
like an ant
crawling along a crowded sidewalk.
How can my meager efforts amount to anything?
Lucky for me, and for you, and for all of us,
there is a balance.
Minuscule as I am, just one of 100 billion people to live on this earth,
the greatest being in the universe…
knows me.
Cares about me.
Has a plan—
For me.
I am His creation, His daughter.
I trust Him to guide me through that crowded sidewalk.
Rachel,
Your poem brought me immediately to a book I just finished reading: A Woman is No Man by Etaf Rum. In this book the idea of “naseeb” was often used–meaning destiny/fate in Arabic. I think this concept guides us in so many ways and your question “how can my meager efforts amount to anything?” pinpoints how we so often question our actions and choices. Thank you for breaking this down from your perspective in your poem.
Rachel,
When I read this aloud, I hear the consonance in “s” throughout the poem that feels like a whisper passing across my lips as I utter “greatest being in the universe…knows me..cares about me.” So musical, peaceful.
Sarah
Rachel, miniscule maybe, but magnificently said!
Minuscule as I am, just one of 100 billion people to live on this earth,
the greatest being in the universe…
knows me.
Rachel,
Your poem reminds me of the parable if the mustard seed, the way something so small grows into something so significant. I think about all the small acts of goodness millions perform and the way those small things collectively make something profound, such as all the work teachers do. And those ants carry so much more and build so much more than their tiny size suggest is possible.
—glenda
Thank you for reminding us of God’s care. Your poem brought to mind the words of Julian of Norwich,
““And in this he showed me a little thing, the quantity of a hazelnut, lying in the palm of my hand, as it seemed. And it was as round as any ball. I looked upon it with the eye of my understanding, and thought, ‘What may this be?’ And it was answered generally thus, ‘It is all that is made.’ I marveled how it might last, for I thought it might suddenly have fallen to nothing for littleness. And I was answered in my understanding: It lasts and ever shall, for God loves it. And so have all things their beginning by the love of God.
In this little thing I saw three properties. The first is that God made it. The second that God loves it. And the third, that God keeps it.” https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/156980.Julian_of_Norwich
Is it the challenge I love?
Or is it because
I was taught to be nice,
to be my best.
Always. Always my best.
To be cute
At all costs.
No, I’ve grown since then.
I am fulfilled when
I do a job well.
I was taught to be
excellent,
diligent, and
thorough.
I’m up late now
Ten hours working
to edit a 2.5 minute video.
Is it
Perfectionism?
Joy in accomplishing?
A gift to my church
for Palm Sunday?
The challenge of a new program?
Playfulness?
Pride?
All of the above.
My parents taught me
to be good,
to be nice and
not to make waves.
I got over it.
But I didn’t.
Denise,
I’m thrilled to see you here and love this poem. The questions reinforce the idea we’re often struggling w/ our own desires vs. those of others. Adding in the detail of editing the video reminds me of how we often edit our own lives to meet others expectations of us. There are so many wonderful turns in your poem. Thank you.
—glenda
Your last stanza—I got over it…but I didn’t —-says it all. Your credo is the one I grew up with. You never do get over that.
Denise, it is fun to run into you here! I am attempting this poetry challenge for the very first time. Your poem shows how those voices of elders from when we are young resonate all our lives, leaving us working to meet their approval, in some ways, always. “I got over it, But I didn’t.” Ah. Such a great observation! I hope you are happy with the final video.
Thank you, Glenda, Gayle, and Maureen, the video isn’t perfect, but it has brought joy this morning to a lot of people. It does make life meaningful when we spend it for others.
I’m posting a link here in case you want to see the first 2.5 minutes. 🙂 http://www.elcnecbahrain.org/palm-sunday-35.html
A Spring Credo
Happiness is easy
Like the still weeds we saw
Standing in a pond that looked like
Green Jello
The geese with their feet in the air
Fishing under a sun that seemed to be
Hurtling towards the surface
If I hear nothing but your laughter
And our puppy’s snores
For the rest of my life
I’ll missing music, for sure
But I guess I’d be okay
We walked back on a muddy path
With our baby son on your back
Deer watching with placid fear
The humans here are okay, they say
Except maybe that guy on the bench
Who has the mild look of a serial killer
But perhaps we’re stereotyping
And he’s probably a fine guy
Just enjoying the sunshine
This is beautiful!! Such clear images, that carry such real emotion. I love the way you use animals to help tell your story. I definitely felt some sadness and heaviness in the second half of your poem – perhaps happiness is harder in some circumstances than others. Oh, and I love your minimal punctuation – it flows well. Nice job.
Alex,
I enjoyed your last stanza, it made me laugh. If you were alone would you still consider it a stereotype?:) And as much as I dislike goose poop fertilizing my backyard, you have created the perfect image of them fishing and the moss in a standing pond.
Thank you for this.
Alex– I love the idea of a spring credo! Just what I need at the end of the day. The line “still weeds we saw/standing in a pond that looked like/Green Jello” — this made me smile with the color and texture you so beautifully captured with this allusion.
Peace,
Sarah
“Grounded”
My toes sink in red clay
barefeet against Earth
face upturned and
Heaven’s light shining
I let the current run
mind, body, soul, back
into the gentle Earth–
Four elements intertwining.
Don’t forget me please.
The balance must stay
We both have to connect
We both need each other
I ground myself and
promise to do my part,
to appreciate the beauty,
to mourn the loss of land.
Surrounded by an open field,
hawks looking at rabbits, cardinals
looking for worms, and I
looking up–grounded.
Ashley,
I appreciate your conversation with the land here and the opposing ideas in your last line: “looking up-grounded.” This is like a prayer to mother nature, thank you for this.
Thank you! It really is a time for myself to experience gratitude.
Ashley,
The word “grounded” emerged a few times in this piece very softly to remind us, to echo this sentiment of anchoring ourselves to something sturdy, something real even though there is a mourning in the “loss of land.”
Peace,
Sarah
Thank you! I do rejoice the beauty and mourn the lack of open spaces.
“This, too, shall pass.”
It hangs on my wall.
How often have I uttered those words
When things were falling apart around me.
Seizing that hope, knowing that if I just
Hold on, wait it out, be strong?
This shall pass.
This, too, shall pass.
Everything passes–
The golden, the tarnished, the precious, the squandered
Moments.
They pass, and we don’t even know it…
The last time I carried her up the stairs to bed,
Tucking her in and pushing back damp ringlets from her forehead.
It passed.
The last time I sat in the center of three children
crowding near
on the navy-blue plaid couch I hated,
reading “Goodnight Moon” for the thousandth time
even though they had memorized it already.
“Goodnight moon. Goodnight.”
It passed.
The last time he cried, “Mommy”
Running into my open arms for a hug.
and a kiss on a bumped elbow.
It, too,
Passed.
I cannot tell you when any of those last times happened.
I only know they are gone. Passed.
And I missed them.
And I miss them…
This sorrow, too,
shall pass
Hello, fellow Marylander! There is such love, intimacy, and caring in each of the situations shared – the bed, the book, the bump – that leads to “And I missed them.” It’s as if your poem hides a magic solution to all those heavy-hearted “This too shall pass,” moments and that is giving love to others.
I like that this phrase can be positive and negative. As a father of a one-year-old, I can really relate to the repetitive nature of bedtime books! And I already get sentimental when I think we won’t be reading them anymore someday! Nicely done!
Gayle, It’s as though you crawled into my mind and read my thoughts, thoughts of not savoring a moment enough, not being fully present. I love the ironic/paradoxical subtext of wanting something to pass and regretting its passing. Favorite lines:
“Everything passes–
The golden, the tarnished, the precious, the squandered
Moments.“
Time certainly is a matter of perspective these days. Thank you for this poem that speaks so eloquently about life and the passage of time.
—glenda
Gayle,
This is so beautiful and really speaks to the journey of motherhood. There’s so much beauty connecting to so much loss creating a tone I have no words for.
“The Most Good”
do the most good
everyday.
do the most good
even if it is small.
do the most good
even if you’re alone.
do the most good
when you feel strong.
do the most good
when you feel lost.
do the most good
despite the pressures.
do the most good
despite the stares.
do the most good
because you can.
do the most good
because if not you,
then who?
Kate,
Seeing “do the most good” repeated often establishes the ethos you’re sharing today. It reminds me of the adage, “A true test of character is what we do when no one is looking.” This is one of my admonition to students. I’m trying to find something good I can do for some one every day, especially during social distancing.
“Do the most good” is a powerful mantra, worthy of repetition; I imagined myself walking, praying, reminding, caring, as I repeated each line. Lovely.
The repetition of “do the most good” grows in power with every repetition. So true
I love the thread that your credo provides . . . the repetition is so very powerful. Your lines are so succinct, adding to the power.
Sarah, thanks for today’s inspiration. I’d already written prior to reading today’s #verselove so my poem is based on a moment from this morning.
Post meditation bliss
Continued in
Seeing the sunlight’s
reflection in my photograph.
My calm trickled into
A stream of memories
gathered together
as a collection of objects
Sitting atop my butterfly cabinet.
This delight
Momentarily curled
My lips into a smile.
My photograph from
a celebration of
Buddha’s birthday,
Sketches of my
favorite flower
from the cerrado
of Brasil,
A poem by
Morgan Harper Nichols,
An artificial
pink
orchid.
Each object
Causing reflection
And pause
And sharing
An appreciation
Of some of the
anecdotes which
have cultivated
Who I’ve become.
Megan, your poem is just what I needed today. It curled my lips into a smile. I need to know what a butterfly cabinet is- it sounds like I might want one! Your simple yet vivid images helped bring a sense of calm to me. Well done!
Meg,
In your poem I find a celebration of story and a belief in the value of artifacts (material culture) to spark storytelling . These lines, for example, speak to this belief: “anecdotes / which / have cultivated / Who I’ve become.” We are the sum of our experiences and the stories they embody. The word “bliss” establishes the sublime tone of the poem. And you’ve given us a poet to explore! Thank you. I’m thrilled to see you here. ❤️
—glenda
Megan, this poem was a window into your home and your practice. What a beautiful nook you keep, it, in itself, is so restorative. I am motivated to set up such a spot in my house, a touchstone in this time of shelter-in-place. Also, I really liked the pacing of each line of the poem, leading me to a calmer place. Thank you!
Reading this gives me the same refreshing feeling as rising from a chaturanga flow into cobra and basking in nostalgia as I rise. Beautifully done.
compassion it.
My bumper sticker
implies and explains,
who I am,
what I try to do,
what I believe.
Each of us is hurting
in some way,
big or small.
Love deeply,
meet their eyes,
laugh together,
desire to love, and
to be loved.
Work hard,
with passion,
do justice,
seek to know,
be curious, and
wonder.
Travel widely,
and see,
how wrapped up in one another
we really are, and
really should be.
Take action,
even tiny steps,
fall on your face,
get up,
go again.
Give space,
reflect, and
write.
compassion it.
Maureen,
I’m so thrilled you’re here. I love the ambiguity in the bumper sticker w/ no antecedent for “it.” How perfect! This poem describes you as I know you through your writing. I particularly love the image of wrapping ourselves around other people: see, / how wrapped up in one another / we really are, and / really should be.” We need one another. Thank you.
—glenda
Maureen, I feel like your short lines with simple directives are a call to action. I feel a sense of urgency when I read your poem. It makes me want to be a better person.
Compassion it–what a lovely thought. And it leaves it wide, wide open. Something to remember…
Mmm I love this. What a sweet bumper sticker. I love “meet their eyes, / laugh together, / desire to love, and / to be loved.” I think this is especially important right now in the middle of all this social distancing craziness… we still need each other, we still need these human connections. Thank you!
“outcome”
I have a deep-rooted sense that
things
will
work
out.
Of course they do: work out.
The universe grows itself.
The universe makes space for life.
The universe designs organisms for growth.
Like all living things,
we are microscopic prototypes
of a benevolent universe.
I exist, therefore I am good.
Laura,
I am struck by your use of white space and line breaks. The single word on each line in the first stanza makes me slow my eyes, make staccato my reading of the words. And then the rhythm you create with anaphora in repeating “the universe,” is awe-inspiring. That word alongside space is moving. Love the last line: “I exist, therefore I am good.” Wow!
Sarah
Laura,
I am moved by the infusion of nature throughout your poem, even the opening adjective “deep-rooted.” It feels hopeful, all things possible, growing. I love that last line, “I exist, therefore I am good.” – there is so much respect for all living things in these words.
Laura, The italics in “work out” fascinates me. There’s a double consciousness to your poem: Things work out but we must also work out our part in this universe. There’s a hopefulness in the poem. Do I also sense a passivity suggesting what will be will be? This is something I’m thinking about. Thank you.
—glenda
Laura,
This year I changed my phone background to a Cleo Wade quote that said “it is ok, you are ok, we are ok.” This poem reminds me of that quote, and there was a time this year that I needed a daily reminder of that. Thank you for sharing this poem. I love it.
The way you structured “things will work out” is so powerful. I can almost see it printed just as you wrote it on a poster!
Thank you, Sarah for a month of Poetry prompts! Woot!
That line hit me, “Bordering (often crossing) the line of the self righteous,” because I’m one to want to right wrongs…make things better like so many educators. Your last line is very comforting…something I continue to aim for. It’s not easy for me.
Today, I am combining this prompt with another prompt to write a mask poem of a water animal….which is good. I’m often tired of writing about myself. I’m happy to name the other writing prompt…but I don’t want to gunk-up or cause any feeling of competition between different writing prompts. What’s the etiquette for that here at ELA? Thanks!
River Otter Credo
I believe River is the center of life.
the finest fish and frogs are there.
I will walk, run, bound and slide down banks
splashing in any season of River’s ebb and flow.
River is for diving, web-footed swimming
feeding, sleeping — holding onto mama.
River overflows to flatten rolling spots for games
of wrestle and chase with otter pups.
I stay away from strangers, close to River’s shore
that shelters me from danger.
I give thanks to River in morning
and twilight after a day of rest near my holt.
I believe River is the center of life.
See my life centered there.
© Linda Mitchell4/1/20
Linda,
This is a wonderful juxtaposition of prompts. I love thinking about the otter’s credo and the life-giving river. Wonderful repetition of “I believe river is the center of life.” It grimes the poem and emphasizes why otter needs the river. I think I may know the source of the second prompt. I’m going to see if I’m right in my guess.
—glenda
Church every Sunday
Willing or not.
Always in the same three dresses;
Dad does the shopping.
Spearmint gum as we arrived
Almost always late
Yet the front row was our own.
Sermon comes to an end
Rushing to Sunday School
Before the popcorn runs out.
Quietly sitting in Bible class
Holding my stomach
“Please don’t let out
your cries for lunchtime”.
Pick up the younger kids,
Debate on the food choice
Which lasts longer than the service itself.
Finally ready to eat
All in life is good
To go back to one of these Sundays
I wouldn’t pass up for anything.
Spearmint gum at the door – a daddy who shops for his girls, the quiet singing and late arrival – – right to the front row. You have some cherished memories here, and I love the snapshot image that you give. A moment in time that is absolutely priceless.
Jessica,
Your Sundays sound much like those from my childhood, but we were always very early. I chucked thinking about the food discussion after the service and the dialogue with your stomach. Fun! Thank you for taking me down memory lane.
—glenda
Oh, Jessica,
There is such comfort and familiarity in that space, in that moment of anticipation, in the sounds of your body and the passing of just a few moments — beautiful snapshot.
Sarah
Jessica, the spearmint gum, the late arrival and having to sit on the front row–are you my daughter?! Just kidding; I relived harried motherhood in your poem. Thanks for a clear picture and bittersweet nostalgia.
I see
I see the wonder of God’s ingenuity in an eye’s eyelash autonomy
Or a thumb’s
with its wrinkly joint
and the invisibility of a budding nail.
I see the treble of God’s sovereignty in the contrast of Job’s dark, drunkman stumble
brought to light
or waste;
To the loosened belts of tyrants
brought low.
I see the measure of God’s promise in the wriggling emerald shoot
that fights through the clay
or leaf-piled spread,
next a Shasta without some man help.
And in All
I see,
I know
that
God is good.
Traci,
An eyelash’s autonomy makes me pause and think about why we have lashes and what they do. It’s a profound image. I’ve always loved the story of Job’s steadfastness and his myriad flaws. The Archibald Macleash play J.B., a retelling of the Job story, is one of my favorites. Thank you for reminding me of Job today.
—glenda
Oh Glenda, I forgot about J.B. Thanks for the reference and for the feedback. tj
Traci,
I love this “I see” pattern that takes us right alongside you to witness what you are. And you take us so close into the “budding nail” — wow!
Sarah
Traci,
First of all, my maiden name is Hutchison!! Don’t see a lot of those, especially without the interior N.
I love how observant this poem is. I was totally sucked in from the very first bit:
“God’s ingenuity in an eye’s eyelash autonomy” . . . such a simple thing that is so miraculous and most of us have never given it a thought!
Let’s trace our family trees to see if we could possibly be related. I could only hope!
Yes, Susan! So few “sneeze-like” Hutchisons–my maiden name is even wrong on my driver’s license, the spelling is so obscure. Thanks for the feedback–you “got” my intention.
*This doesn’t fit the prompt, but it’s what I had written for today. 12 hours earlier in Bangladesh 🙂
A Definition of Beauty
By: Me
You wanted to know the definition of beauty
And I was speechless
Never good with speaking words.
The moment felt infinite as
I tried to think of an answer.
I should have said YOU.
You, girl with the poofy hair
like an untamed bush.
It used to be long but you cut it all off.
Cutting hair or cutting ties or cutting memories?
You, girl with the timidity
despite an intelligence beyond your years.
You, girl with the voice powerful enough
to rip through bodies,
Move hearts up to throats until tears fall.
You, girl with the vulnerability that masks the smile I long to see.
You, girl with the scale mind
equal parts reason and emotion.
Something I never got right.
You are half my age and far more “beautiful”
than I will ever be.
But I never said these things.
Destined to write and write and write.
Beauty is many different things.
Beauty is everything that you are but maybe were never told.
Angie, going outside the prompt is completely okay – – and look at what you’ve given us because you used your own words and voice. A reminder to say the things that we need to say to the people who need to hear them. That’s a mantra – – and it’s most fitting for times like these. I love the repeating line: you, girl……I’m wondering if this is a sister – or a daughter. At one point my daughter was half my age :). I envision an airport or some point of departure or setting out, figuratively or literally. I’m glad you used your own prompt today!
Thank you Kim. Inspired by a student. I don’t have kids or sisters 🙂
Angie,
The last stanza…the line…”but I never said these things” is so moving, and yet we “say” in other ways when we write and write. Utterances left on the page still speak here in the readers’ minds and hearts, and so thank you for sharing this with us today. And welcome.
Sarah
Thank you for your comment, Sarah. And thank you for putting this together. Inspiring 🙂
Angie, your words really moved me as a mother of a teenage daughter. She is everything I still wish I could be as an adult but am too afraid. She’s so confident in being different and outspoken that it makes me internally proud but externally scared. Sometimes…many times, instead of celebrating the beauty of her strength, I crush it by projecting my own insecurities onto her. I stifle her. I scar her with my reactions and lack of support. I notice you speak in past tense. Even though my daughter is still here with me physically today in the present tense, it feels as if it is too late to undo the permanent damage I may have inflicted, so your choice of past tense hit me hard.
I’m sorry – I can only imagine the many intricacies of having a daughter. Thanks for sharing your feelings.
So many perfect phrases here…cutting hair…ties…memories, the scale mind, a voice powerful enough to rip through bodies. Wor
“Destined to write and write and write.” I love this.
I was never a crier
But my heart keeps breaking
Quarantined from truth
The marginalized
The oppressed
Opportunity spectrum
The gap is widening
I will not cry
Kids whose safety was in the four walls
Of our classrooms
Food
Insecurities
Health
Instabilities
Don’t cry
Trolls
Hatred
Bipartisanism
Petty
Disbelief
I cannot believe it
Unemployment
Stimulus
Terminally ill
Last goodbyes
Via facetime
Hold it in
Try not to take it personal
The constant hate
Disregard for humanity
Dis-empathy
Distant from reality
I cry
*Don Miguel Ruiz: The Four Agreements (Don’t take anything personally)
Thanks for sharing your feelings today. I have to tell you that I feel exactly the same way. I love how you just can’t hold it in at the end. I feel like I haven’t allowed myself to just let go and cry since this started. I think I’ll re-visit this poem whenever I’m feeling like I need a release and remind myself that it is okay to do just that. Cry. The last stanza is so true, which is so sad. The lines “Disregard for humanity” and “Dis-empathy” really provide the ammo for the tears to pour out. It’s so sad that so many people are “Distant from reality”. Great job.
Stefani, I thought it was very special when you said “Kids whose safety was in the four walls of our classrooms food insecurities health instabilities”. This shows that you wrote this poem from what is heavy on your heart and I think that it something that can be challenging to put into words.
Thank you for sharing,
Jessica
Stefani,
“Quarantined from the truth” is exactly how so many are responding to the virus. I too think about vulnerable kids and adults, the sad goodbyes w/out being able to hold loved ones. None of this had to be so severe. I often think of something I heard a Baptist minister say years ago: “You can’t lead where you haven’t been.” Sadly, we have that absence of leadership now. Thank you for being so honest and caring.
—glenda
Your poem really captures what I am feeling today. Twice today I found myself nearly overwhelmed with emotion. I think as a teacher, as many of us are, I am searching for the missing piece of myself, which is in person interactions with my students.”Last goodbyes/via facetime” really hit me. I can’t imagine the pain of saying goodbye to a loved one suddenly, and then to add the layer of not being able to do it in person is heartbreaking. Thank you for giving my feelings words.
Stefani, your use of lists and single-word lines is effective because it imitates the build-up of thoughts and emotions. I can feel the weight of the accumulating worries and concerns. (I feel them, too!) The build up to the break and the last line–I cry–creates balance to the poem and creates the emotional catharsis we have as readers at the end.
Stefani,
This captures so much of what I feel, especially the lines :
“Kids whose safety was in the four walls
Of our classrooms
Food
Insecurities
Health
Instabilities”
This is such a fitting conversation starter. Don Miguel Ruiz got me through a rough patch. Kudos to you and him!
“Small Thing” by Jenny Sykes
“Do small things with great love.” -Mother Theresa
Mother Theresa has always been one of my role models.
She gave and gave until her very last breath.
Never asking for anything.
She just kept giving.
Always focusing on her true calling-her vocation.
I too like to work behind the scenes.
Planning the next “small thing”
Go unnoticed; bring joy in secretive ways.
Try to be the first domino to take the fall.
Start the wave…answer the call.
The smile across the room.
The “I love you” scribbled in crayon.
A warm sensation surges throughout.
Purpose realized.
Exemplify what is right in the world!
Be faithful! WWJD?
See the face of Christ in everyone?
Too many make it hard to see.
That sense of wonder in the eyes of a child.
Imagination and magic rolled into one.
That’s what keeps me going.
But sometimes
Wonder turns into despair.
Disappears…becomes non-existent.
It’s not fair.
Turn to prayer; wind whispers, calm enters.
Raise those arms!
Start the wave…answer the call.
Do the next “small thing”
Jenny, I love that you work behind the scenes, bringing joy in secretive ways. I hope you know that these things are noticed! I’m finding myself doing the small things now. Small things for others. Small things for myself. And only being able to accomplish small things because the bigger things seem just too big to handle with the world weighing upon us. So glad you find the “wonder in the eyes of a child’ and the crayon scribbled I love you’s!
Jennifer, I’ve always been more of a behind the scenes person, too. We know the small things make the big ones possible. Favorite line: “ Try to be the first domino to take the fall. / Start the wave…answer the call.” I love the imagery of a domino pushing other dominos into action. Thank you.
—glenda
Jennifer, I love the way you parallel the smallness of doing/finding good at a time such as ours and the smallness of our effects in the classroom. Of course, it would be wonderful to see our effects as monumental, but the reality is that just isn’t the case. Nevertheless, the observation of even the slightest victory with a student will *always* outweigh the heaviest of days. Now, too, I feel so grateful and privileged to be able to savor the small yet glorious moments.
Jennifer, your opening quote by Mother Theresa is a favorite of mine, as well, and I was immediately drawn into your poem. I feel a sense of awe from the concluding words, including “Turn to prayer; wind whispers, calm enters.
Raise those arms!” which beautifully show how powerful small things can be. Thank you for this!
Jenny,
This is dang motivational! I’d like to print it off and hang it on my mirror to inspire me each day! Well-done!
A Collection of Paradoxes
My credos
My beliefs
My guiding principles
They are few
They are many
They are simple
They are complex
They extend to others
They confine to my circle.
“Do unto others
as you would have them
do unto you”:
in some ways living
by The Golden Rule
sets me up to be hurt
and disappointed.
When I know what I would do,
how I would react,
how I would feel . . .
I grow to expect
that others will do
the same or similar.
Feelers expect others to feel.
“If you want to change the world,
go home and love your family”:
I teach/it’s what I do
I bring 100 kids a year into my fold . . .
I love them,
I nurture them,
I guide them.
When I go home . . .
I carry with me their burdens and aches
that make being a mom both harder
and easier.
Our four are my core concern
yet I give so much to others.
I think–I hope–they love me more
because of it.
That’s all they’ve known
Mom who is for many
Loving others means loving them
But I have never put others first.
The four are the core.
“They won’t care what you know
until they know that you care”:
I teach kids
NOT standards.
I am knowledgeable
I love words
I love literature
But I love kids MORE.
I take the back door in
Get them to trust me/love me
then I slide in the lessons.
But you also need street cred.
They do want to know what you know
They can see through stupid
They mock it
“We are born with free will”:
I have expectations for our kids
I sometimes want to joystick their lives
But . . .
I TRY to come back to the fact
that they aren’t mini-mes and
they aren’t here to fulfill my dreams
They are such a part of me
Yet they are so apart from me
They have free will
The more I will, the more they seek the free.
“Being a mom is different from being a dad”:
I tend to hold onto gender roles/norms
Moms are nurturing
Moms stay home
Moms sacrifice
Moms change diapers
Moms get up at night when needed.
It’s made me happy.
Or bitter?
A martyr?
I hear more feministic people talk
I see fathers being nurturing
Do I believe in the norms or not?
I land on
“You do you and I’ll do me.”
“Love is a choice”:
we may fall in love
with all the feels it brings
it’s an emotion. Sure.
But it’s a choice.
I choose to stay
I choose to be here
I choose to feel for him
And him alone.
There may be a stronger love
a more serendipitous love
a more passion-filled love
out there.
But. Those things fade.
LOVE is a choice.
The older I get the more I realize
that my credos are wired in me
yet they are challenged and tweaked
every
single
day.
I love how you start the stanzas with a quotation of a creed or belief that guides your life, principles to live by, AND how you connect them to teaching, which is such an arduous and drainging vocation, students and your own children. I especially love the penultimate stanza, whrre you state that love is a choice. It’s volition, it’s a verb. It’s what you decide to DO.
Love the paradox idea – always feel this way.
Susan,
This reminds me of a banner my brother gave me when I was a junior in college: “It’s often easier to stand up for one’s principles than to live up to them.” At first I thought it was a message about myself. Only later did I realize it’s a comment on contradictions. Our beliefs and values are constantly tested and pitted against one another. That is, they come in conflict, and the most valuable one wins depending on the circumstances. My favorite image in your poem is “ joystick their lives.” Wouldn’t it be so much easier if we could manipulate kids like parts of a video game. But it would be far less interesting. Thank you for being so honest.
—glenda
The four are the core! It’s such a paradox, being a teacher and parent. We multiply our love outward, beyond our core, encompassing all we meet. It means less time for those closest, but love builds. I can relate to this struggle. Love is a choice!
Wow, Susan, this is beautiful and tender and heartfelt. Yes, it’s all this in one person. Seems impossible but you’ve made it possible and expressed it. Lovely…more than lovely…real and true.
Whoa! This one’s so deep I read it yesterday and came back to it today. The line that gets me the most: feelers expect others to feel. I love all of your paradoxes and “rethinks” of the spin on commonly held views. I especially like it in its poetic form. We know from the beginning that it is a series of paradoxes, and you just keep delivering……all the way down! Clever and profound.
“Cousin” Susan,
This section of your poem really speaks to me as teacher; my husband, a retired principal preached the the first quoted line; the rest of the lines has been my credo for nearly 40 years. Like you, all I ever wanted to do, all I will ever want to do is “teach kids” and, like you, my heart has directed me back and back and back to it–even after retiring twice. Your “back door” metaphor speaks so poignantly and surprisingly on HOW:“They won’t care what you know/until they know that you care”:/I teach kids/NOT standards./I am knowledgeable/I love words/I love literature/But I love kids MORE./I take the back door in/Get them to/trust me/love me/then I slide in the lessons.” Thank you for putting words to our hearts. We ARE related.
Glenda,
I appreciated the positive tone throughout this poem, especially “be the answer.”
Days like today
weeks, months like these
force us to slow down and look—
really look—
at what’s important in life.
We boil it down,
separate the wheat from the chaff,
and decide.
What are we worried about?
What do we need, now, more than ever?
We may think about opportunities lost,
about moments that have slipped away,
but they don’t matter.
We know what we need now
and always
is
kindness
honesty
and
compassion.
We will get through this and once again
be
happy.
Mo, the paring down and taking time to sort through the weeds is a cathartic process for all of us – though we are horrified at the news, at the sickness and loss of life, we do the inner work of redefinition of self. I love your questions: What are we worried about? What do we need, now, more than ever? Those pack a punch.
Mo, There’s such profound truth in your poem. “We know what we need.” This WAS the theme of so many blog posts I read in March during the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life challenge. I keep thinking about this time of testing as a stripping away of old that will allow regeneration. “Separate the wheat from the chaff” is exactly what must happen. Thank you for reminding us of and reinforcing this idea.
—glenda
Mo, I found myself relating to your poem in the thought process that goes through our heads. I thought it was cool that you broke down all the thoughts that can sometimes be considered overthinking, then leading it to the things that really matter in life.
Thank you for sharing,
Jess
Mo, I don’t recall time ever slowing to such a pace as this (at least not since the days of waiting for Christmas or birthdays when I was little). We’ve moved from hyper fast with days zipping past, when we are unable to take in the moments that comprise this life. Your piece is a reminder to appreciate this opportunity, to find what we need.
MO — I can’t agree with you more… “days like today…force us to slow down and look…” You bring us away from ruminating over the past and into the moment …”what we need now/and always/is/kindness/honesty …. Oh YES! Honesty… I crave that. We will get through this… yes. Thank you! Susie
Mo, your lines, “We boil it down,
separate the wheat from the chaff,
and decide.”
Your physical description of winnowing the grain really struck me and presented the process you’ve gone through to get to this place. Your listing of each of those heavy seeds really made me think about what I’ve been sifting through as most important.
“What’s important in life/we boil it down” What a great way to make the all-too-familiar new.
Mo, your use of questions draws me in to participate, explore, decide. This current reality is truly empowering, isn’t it? We are recognizing how much we thought we needed but now see we don’t. I like your closing line “and once again be happy”. The challenge is actually to find a way to be happy now-in the midst of the challenge-and not wait until it ends.
And I hope that the happy that ensues post Covid19 is a new happy, one that includes lessons we are learning from this experience. All too often humans forget and hit repeat.
I like the way the questions put the onus on the reader to really pay attention to what’s important. It reminded me of my grandmother’s favorite saying, “There are two things to remember: one – don’t sweat the small s@*t, and two – it’s all small s@*t!” Can’t wait to read your poems this month!
Sarah, I actually created a bulletin board on our 8th grade hall with the word BE and then all kinds of words to inspire students and whoever reads it…
What I especially connected to was the BE-coming!
There’s so much hope in that word.
Thanks for the inspiration!
Sarah, this is an excellent prompt to get us started writing poetry that nourishes our souls this month. I’m thinking about Walt Whitman here. Love seeing the Gandhi quote as a grounding principle for your lovely credo.
Here’s my poem:
“Give More”
“We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.” —Winston Churchill
Give more
Love
Care
Time
Expect more from myself
Without requiring reciprocity.
As sun and rain nourish grass
Live life offering sustenance to
Friends
Family
Community—
All sentient beings.
Pay forward generously.
What I dream for myself
Dream for others:
Make a life of
Kindness
Find purpose through
Service
Grow stronger by
Learning.
Expect less from the universe;
Be the answer not the question;
Be a giver of words
Sprinkling droplets of
Peace
Knowledge
Empathy
Make a life:
Give more.
—Glenda Funk
Your words are weighty today. Every word has such power to change and make us rethink. I especially love “expect less from the universe. Be the answer, not the question.” I could spend all day thinking about each line and chewing on this. Great reflections here – and Churchill was a phenomenal beginning!
All of my favorite quotes are finding their way here this morning. I love the line, “Be the answer not the question.” As we begin spring in the month of April while our words drop new beginnings each day, you remind us to “be a giver of words, sprinkling droplets…” Such a beautiful celebration you offer!
I was struck by the alliterative reinforcement “Expect more from myself
Without requiring reciprocity.” the sound device reinforced the personal call to act to effectively. My heart agreed/rang with you.
Glenda, you led me to this poetry challenge and I am moved by your opening poem! I hear almost a call and response as I read…”What I dream for myself, Dream for others” and later “Be the answer not the question”….as if to challenge oneself to make it happen in the world. Beautiful!
Glenda,
Your line “Expect more from myself/Without requiring reciprocity” is so soothing to hear from someone else. I have to remind myself of this throughout my days, and it’s always a comfort to see that someone else is taking care of themselves too. I also see nature woven into your thoughts; I know these last few weeks have afforded me much more time for observing the trees/shrubs/flowers/grass/animals in my yard and neighborhood. Thanks for sharing!
Hey there, Glenda — (First, did you feel the big rumble last night? My niece in Boise was freaked!) Now, on to the poem… Your poem is the litany that I certainly needed… each a punch…a jab (those short lines) that wakes me up to gitty-up and be better. The ones that really hit home for me were “be the answer not the question” and “a giver of words…droplets of/peace/knowledge/empathy.” Your words take us outside ourselves. Can’t beat that! Thank you and glad to see you here on this “foolish” day… LOL! Susie
I did feel the jolt but thought it was a train! Only after hearing about the quake did I realize my mistake.
My son in Missoula quasi-freaked!
Glenda, I love your line breaks, especially in the middle of your poem, where words like kindness, service, and learning have a stronger punch to them by placing them on a new line, standing solo to pack the punch of your credo. And these lines, “Be a giver of words, sprinkling droplets of peace, knowledge, empathy,” these apply so true to this new journey we are all beginning together today with the #versewords challenge.
Wow, this is what I hope I can become. And, what a fabulous quote to begin with. I feel a wonderfully strong sense of being centered in this poem. I like how it ends with, “Give more.”
As I read your poem, I thought about my young ones and how much time we spend together these days. I want them to read this. I want them to think about how poignant your words are. Thank you!
Glenda,
What a compact, beautiful poem you compose here. I love these lines:
Make a life of
Kindness
Find purpose through
Service
Grow stronger by
Learning.”
The rhythm you create with structure is wonderful.
Against Silence
Writing is a struggle against silence*
I repeat these words to myself
in sacred utterance,
a numinous hymn,
sounding and resounding
like a Sunday morning
call to prayer.
My incantation offered
to the muse
as I work my way through,
finding my voice,
giving power to each word,
each syllable,
each letter.
When I was five,
a boy kissed me
in the back of the bus
on a dare.
My voice,
hidden behind a heated blush,
remained deep inside,
silent to all but me.
Soon after,
kids chanted the words
“Catlicker”
as we walked past
on sidewalks near the ball fields,
our plaid skirts
and white collared shirts
giving away
our Catholic identities.
I did not have my voice
that day either,
buried as it was
under the humiliation
of who we were.
Years later,
Another boy asked a friend to dance.
The others stood to the side
smirks barely covered behind hands
as quarters were exchanged
and tucked away
into pockets
from another dare.
When that same boy
came to me
asking for a dance,
I pushed my voice
outside of myself.
no
No
NO
Words have always
come more easily
on paper.
It’s the silence
that is the struggle.
(* Carlos Fuentes)
Jennifer,
Finding power in the words of others and using those mantras and borrowed lines to weave into our own nests is medicinal. I once had a college professor who repeated, “The reader writes the story.” For awhile, we stayed confused on that one. But here it is – a perfect example of how those words from Fuentes resonated in your life and added meaning and beauty to your story. Your voice is always so unique – every time you write. Your struggle shines lights in places of darkness.
Thank you for sharing your personal experiences and how they influenced you. I love how you start the poem with a quote by one of my favorite Mexican writers, about writing as a struggle against silence., and how you proceed to demonstrate how writing for you is fighting against bekng silent, voiceless; how through writing you have the voice.
Writung, for me, has been a vehicle to express what I at times couldn’t articulate, or through writing realized feelings that lay buried deep in my psyche.
Before writing, reading was my escape route, my deliverance, my place of refuge.
I especially like how you end the poem, returning back to the quote, and stating how silence is the struggle, not writing. It’s wonderful to see that writing has been your vehicle to express yourself.
Jennifer,
The framing of beliefs around story inspires me. Yes, it is hard to speak up. It’s risky. I’m glad we gave both written and audible words by which to speak. Wonderful to compare speaking up and the struggle to a Sunday prayer.
“sacred utterance,
a numinous hymn,
sounding and resounding
like a Sunday morning
call to prayer.”
I so love this! Finding your voice is so important, and a true struggle. Your poem reminded me of Maggie Kuhn’s quote “Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes.” I love the progression and how you learned to find your voice throughout your childhood. This is so relatable. I love it!
Last stanza is so powerful. Love it. I can relate. Thank you.
Ditto!
Words have always
come more easily
on paper.
It’s the silence
that is the struggle.
The “catlicker” stanza is so authentic and easy to see. I remember similar humiliation and your imagery jettisoned me back to the hurt and shame of others’ unkindness. Well-said.
Jennifer — You picked such a powerful and moving quote. Fuentes had it right. Your poem plays out the images of that silence and that struggle. I was so moved by the “heated blush” and the cruelty of kids to name-call and dare each other in such hurtful actions. It was particularly well crafted to use passive voice with the creepy passivity of boys and their nasty bet (“quarters were exchanged”) — very effective. And the ending…”it’s the silence/that is the struggle.” This particularly resonated with me, given the silence in my home these “stay in place” days of being alone and recognizing the power of the silence that forces us inside our heads… sometimes wondering about the voices we hush and the voices we choose to let in, as well as the voices that pour onto paper. I like the title “Against Silence,”… nicely done! Thanks for sharing this! Susie
Jennifer,
Somehow, somehow, you seemed to have written a poem about how I feel even though I don’t think I was aware that I felt it. I knew writing was easy for me. I knew It was therapeutic. I didn’t know that it was my effort to struggle against silence. I, too, have failed to have a voice in many, many situations. You are so much more economical with your words than I am and that makes this all the more powerful. I love the way your Catholismn is a strong but not overbearing element. My favorite lines are:
“I did not have my voice
that day either,
buried as it was
under the humiliation
of who we were.”
Thank you so much for this.
Thank God for paper!
Belonging. Why was I adopted?
Longing for answers when I had to draw a family tree in school
Confused.
Growing up and seeing others who belonged in their family.
Who looked like their parents and siblings.
Lonely.
Trying to make sense of it all when I was graced with my own three children.
Searching and finally finding my birth mom and learning her story
Peaceful.
Realizing that the God of the Universe knew me before I was born..
Even numbered the hairs on my head and counted my tears in a bottle
Valued
Embracing gospel truth that I belong eternally and unconditionally
I didn’t earn it, so I can’t lose it- I’m enough!
Redeemed
Sharing that life changing love with my birth mother
Watching her let go of her past and embrace eternal hope
Secure.
Finally.
Christi, thank you for sharing this today. I love the way that you use phrases to ask questions and wonder and then you quantify each snippet with an emotion or feeling. You give us a reminder to think through those assignments and tasks that we give our students, and to think through all of the IFs to check for equity and sensitivity. Families come in all shapes and sizes, and none is better than any other. What matters is love, and I’m so glad that your ending words have brought you to a place of peace. Security. Finally. This is beautiful!
Christi, you have referenced one of my favorite sections of the bible, God knowing us even before we are born. Thank you for writing of the struggle for belonging in children who are adopted. I see these same questions in a good friend’s daughter. Your message of hope and redemption in the end bring that security and understanding full circle.
So love this! The lines “Even numbered the hairs on my head and counted my tears in a bottle/
Valued” are spectacular. I feel like this is the true heart of the poem as you start to turn a corner. You find understanding and purpose in this. Thanks for sharing this with us today. It is beautiful.
Christi, The heart-wrenching story of your adoption and the questions that moved you to find your birth mother speak to the hope so many find in their faith. When I hear stories of adoption, I always think: Remember, you were chosen. I see that duality of meaning in your poem and the faith you share here. Thank you.
—glenda
Christi, this is truly a beautiful poem. It is very powerful how you showed your thoughts of insecurities and found comfort in yourself and religion. The transition through your poem was very inspiring.
Thank you for sharing,
Jess
Thank you for sharing your feelings and creed with us. I love how you intersperse one-word lines throughtout, which express your feelings. Isn’t it amazing how you were able to be reconciled and redeemed, how you were able to reunite with your mother. And above all else, to be adopted as a child of God.
What a lovely narrative. I know that telling it in a poem is special and a bit sacred. Thank you for sharing it with us. I’m an adoptive mom and am so glad to see the peace you have with knowing your birth mom too.
Sarah, what an inspiring way to usher in National Poetry Month and the excitement this month holds for all of us – especially right now, to be re-grounded in our beliefs and values. With so much of our world and the parts of our world spinning out of control around us, how comforting it is to read your lines of being the change. It’s worth framing and reading daily. I love the way you punctuated be-coming at the end. It gives hope for the days that we feel we fail, just as you mentioned you feel some days in your poem, and assures us that becoming is an evolutionary process. Be-coming. We are all on this journey together, and this group is a supportive community that shapes us all. I feel like Elf when he is screaming, “Santa! Santa’s coming! I KNOW him! I KNOW him!” Only I’m screaming excitedly about this group today. Thanks for making this happen for all of us.
[This morning I’m posting a sort of odd credo … COVID, on the one hand, seems elusive to some, yet on the other hand, it seems quite real, as if it were a sneering presence sitting here laughing at me. I believe it is deadly real, horrific. I’ll be more cheerful later on…I promise. Susie]
I Am COVID
I came on silent feet,
slipped underneath your door
lay lazy on the floor
waiting.
You soaped your hands,
mopped and scrubbed
it down the drain,
or so you thought
to stave the strain,
my novel presence there;
yet, weaseled in the corners
I scratched and clawed,
brazen, thirsting for a flaw, I hung
and ripped inside your lungs, infected,
knotted, left your song unsung,
finished you,
I slithered on.
In years to come
they’ll mark my day
and build a wall,
carve all your names
on miles of marble,
a pall will fall
across the land,
a marker left:
the COVID Wall.
by Susie Morice ©
Susie, you have such a gift – words that personify a virus and words that give vivid imagery to it. I love this: “yet, weaseled in the corners
I scratched and clawed,
brazen, thirsting for a flaw…”
and “left your song unsung” is powerful.
The idea of a historic wall is real and likely, unfortunately.
There’s a place for the cheerfulness that you mention, but there is also a place for the horrific. I like that you always write the real Susie feelings of the day – you are a poet of truth.
Susie,
This is brilliant. You are so clever, girlfriend, to anthropomorphize the virus, evil slithering thing. I see what you did at the end, and the subtext makes this creepy, crawly poem so much better:
“ they’ll mark my day
and build a wall,
carve all your names
on miles of marble,
a pall will fall
across the land,
a marker left:
the COVID Wall.“
These lines have an Ozymandias sensibility that offers both a rebuke of current policy and hope all these awful walls will crumble. Thank you.
—glenda
Susie, as always, your internal rhyme, alliteration, and consonance is amazing. Your word choice is excellent. Your use of “S” makes me feel the how insidious and snakelike this vinous is. As I type my comments, I just got an alert on my phone about a case in my neighborhood.
Wow! This literally gave me chills. The way you personified COVID was scary and real and horrific. All adjectives that you used to introduce the poem. The imagery created was also great. Words like “slithered” and “knotted” are so fitting. From beginning to end I could see this image of the virus that we’ve been seeing everywhere with a monstrous face creeping all over. I could see the Wall, and almost feel the engraved names on my fingertips. Amazing job! Thanks for sharing this with us.
Susie, “slipped underneath your door” speaks such truth – despite our vigilance, it “came on silent feet” arrived unannounced and finding the cracks to invade, “thirsting for a flaw.” How sad that this virus is leaving so many songs unsung. You have personified this with the finesse of Sandburg’s personification of Fog.
Wowza. As your reader, I love how you deftly brought “the wall” into this poem. It carried for me allusions to both the Vietnam Memorial and the horrific wall “Mexico will pay for.” I love how you stir up so much thinking and feeling in me.
These lines are worth re-reading again and again:
“I scratched and clawed,
brazen, thirsting for a flaw, I hung
and ripped inside your lungs, infected,
knotted, left your song unsung,
finished you,
I slithered on.”
I’m so happy to spend April with you!
Thank you so much, Allison. I’ve spent a lot of hours touching and staring at the Vietnam wall and also hours along the border, both images leaving me feel the brokenness of our country’s leadership. And here we are…. I keep wrestling with these images and poetry seems to give me a vehicle for what is haunting me. Thanks for being here. Susie
#gottaSHOWUPunannounced
I see it in the old photographs –
young minister at his desk
writing
books piled high
baby in the middle
wallowing in the books,
chewing the pen
two fully immersed
in words, texts, pens, paper, creating,
passion pumping through veins
like ink through a fountain pen.
That baby was me.
Literacy guaranteed.
But what about the Shunwells?
Who ignites their flames?
Because
knowing about basketball
writing about basketball
watching a basketball game
isn’t enough.
#gottaSHOWUPunannounced
#gottaread
#gottawrite
#gottaaccept
#gottarelate
#gottarespect
#gottainspire
#gottainfluence
#gottaencourage
#gottaembrace
#gottalove’emall
#gottagetinthegame
and get my arms around kids
#gottareframethatpicture
and perpetuate that legacy
#gottapickupthatfoutainpen
and revise the playbook
-Kim Johnson
Inspired by my father, Dr. Felix Haynes, and the greatest of the great at showing up unannounced – Kwame Alexander – watch here: https://youtu.be/LJvx6ZNYHVw
Kim, your hashtags are a great idea. The increasing length of them really ramps up the pace. My favorite line is #gottaSHOWUPunannounced . Love the dedication, too!
Kim, Your use of hashtags makes this poem so modern and on point, especially during this time where games feel so anachronistic, a reality underscoring the vital importance of reframing the national photograph. Yes, we “gotta revise the playbook.” Our very existence depends on it. Gotta love Kwame Alexander, too. Thank you!
—glenda
Books piled high
baby in the middle
wallowing in the books
chewing the pen
I can picture this perfectly, the writing and words on which you were raised and fully immersed shown through your simile that follows. The rhythm in the hashtags feels like a pulse, a heartbeat, the words still pumping through you and us!
Kim — I just read your poem out loud and felt the urgency of the short lines and the hashtags….that fit like a basketball hitting the gym floor… I could feel it like a pulse, and urgency….how cool. Your dad, showing up unannounced and then watching Kwame A in the video…this just made me smile and love the power of those unassuming teachers who simply lay out the opportunity for a kid to take a meaningful path. Your dad knew that. Shunwell’s teacher knew that. You know that. And you make a difference! What a terrific piece, a testament to teachers who quietly change the world, one kid at a time. Thanks for cranking this baby out this morning so early! Cyber Hugs, Susie
Kim, your description of the characters in your poem as “two fully immersed in words, texts, pens, paper, creating,” made me see it wasn’t only about studying but truly creating and sharing the creating together. This helped me to create a clear picture of how your dad created so much for so many. Thank you.
Kim, your poem balances the old with the new, the nostalgic with the contemporary…with both your imagery and your word choice. As others have commented, your use of hashtags at the end of the poem add to the pace of the piece and almost create a “concrete poem”-like image of stacked books and papers. The last three hashtags (and their physical separation from the rest of the list) combine the past and the future/now effectively. What a great technique!
The line that hit me – “and get my arms around kids”- not being able to see our students and be in the same space is unbearable. Everything that drives us to do what we do is in your poem – and what drives us to figure out how to “revise the playbook” – great poem!
Sarah,
So . . . I’m up with the supposed intent of “having” class with my own students this morning, which right now is fielding questions, checking work, watching videos they have sent. THIS is not why I went into teaching. But, we do what is necessary in these uncertain times. The first thought I have, though, is “It’s April 1st . . . there’s going to be a poetry inspiration today!!!” This community that you have created is to be sooo applauded. You have given us a voice and an audience and I couldn’t be more appreciative. It fills such a need in me–especially in these days of social distancing and uncertainty. I try not to read any of the poems until I write mine, but as I scrolled down to get to the comment box, I saw your last word . . . be-coming. And, I audibly did the Mrs. Kravitz “uh, huh!” because I thought it was brilliant.
Can’t wait to write about what I believe IF I can tear myself away from the needs of my students, my own children, and my tech-challenged math teacher husband who is in WAY over his head right now!