Today’s writing inspiration comes from Mo Daley. Mo has taught preschool through high school, ELA, Spanish, and reading. She’s found her passion as a middle school reading specialist in Homewood, IL. She loves designing and making Little Free Libraries and is a strong supporter of the Literacy Empowerment Action Program #LEAPforGhana. Mo has presented on Engaging the Naysayers in Your Middle School Classroom at the Illinois Reading Conference and at nErDcampMI. She blogs sporadically at Mo’s Literacy Adventures.
Inspiration
A traditional ode is written to honor a person, event, or thing (think “Ode on a Grecian Urn). Odes usually have 3-5 stanzas of about 10 lines each and may or may not rhyme. These are suggestions, but as always, don’t feel tied to the form.
Process
Since an ode is meant to exalt, choose an object, person, or event that is important to you, but give the traditional and serious ode a modern spin by adding in a little humor. Consider using an everyday item you couldn’t live without- maybe a Kindle, iPhone, planner, sleep mask, electric pencil sharpener, Target Dollar Spot, etc. How does your subject make you feel? What is your special connection to it? What makes it special or unique? Try to add in similes, metaphors, or even an exaggerated tone. Most importantly, have fun!
Mo’s Poem
Ode to My Instant Pot
Oh, my darling Instant Pot! How have I lived this long without you?
Why was I so intimidated by your instructions that I let you linger,
alone,
in the closet for three months before showing the world your sparkling stainless steel body?
What was I thinking?
You have changed me, in a way that no other before you has.
From the moment we met in the kitchen, and I did the first water test,
you were mine.
You never pressured me to make your magical meals.
I never knew how much I wanted, no, NEEDED you.
You are forgiving, especially when I forget to reinsert your seal after a thorough cleaning.
You just blow off a little steam and get back to work,
faster than a Bugatti in the final lap of the French Grand Prix.
I love your unpretentiousness.
You put your cousin, the nearly obsolete Crock-Pot, to shame.
But do you brag?
Never.
You just keep plugging away.
You push me to try new things like lamb shanks, yogurt, and moonshine.
Perhaps tomorrow, my love, we’ll try Cheesecake 17.
Post your writing any time today. If the prompt does not work for you today, that is fine– make-up your own prompt or a twist on this one. 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.
September’s 5-Day Monthly Writing Challenge is from 9/16-9/20 with Anna J. Small Roseboro. The poem inspirations will celebrate National Hispanic History month (9/15-10/15). Because we hope that you will include Latinx and Indigenous authors (#ownvoices) in your curriculum all year long, Anna’s ideas can be used all year long, and we share a few books to include in your classrooms now and throughout the school year. Perhaps more importantly, we advocate for daily writing in all classrooms for students to write and share their own stories and histories (in verse). Latinx in Kidlit and Pat Mora’s site are excellent resources.
OK. I know this is supposed to be 3 – 5 stanzas, but I’m getting to my writing late today so I only wrote one. I may go ahead and try to write two more stanzas tomorrow or another day. Either way, this was fun!
My iPhone
My iPhone sits next to me.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It wakes me up in the morning
and lets me know when someone
likes my Tweets.
It notifies me of Whats App messages
and dings me with reminders.
It never leaves my side.
Even when I can’t access WiFi.
I use 3G instead.
Elise, This is a fun poem. I can definitely relate to having the phone ever present.
Elisa,
Perfect as one stanza:) I don’t know what is “Whats App” and am intrigued. Love how we learn from one another, and I appreciate how this poem is gratitude for what the phone does FOR you.
Sarah
Ode to Oh
Oh, Oh, your little round mouth
Opens with wonder
My Other Half
Ohio to my Iowa
Oh, gentle interjection,
A pause of knowing
A gasp, a gap,
The softest
Swallowed syllable
To keep iambs aligned
Oh-oh, dear Oh,
No poet fully knows
Your worth.
XO to Oh.
Excellent play on syllables! Your second stanza is perfect. A very quiet little ode to oh…
Allison, Wonderful alliteration throughout. Love the nod to the parts of speech: “gentle interjection.” I’m a fan of all things meta, so this o-themed ode makes me go ? how clever!
Allison – This is so clever. The assonance of all those Os is so playful. I particularly like “a pause of knowing.” Oh, now I see ? — I like that phrasing. All the ohs…”softest swallowed syllable” …each oh is so utterly unique. Clever, clever, clever. How did you think of something so crafty?! I like this idea! Thanks, Susie
Clever. Love it. Your poem, alongside others today, reveal how important it is to share our writing and invite varied interpretations of prompts. A template would have restricted the writer within us — so smart Mo (with the oh). Allison, you made me happy with this one (and, of course, all your others). So glad to see you again this week.
The sun peeked through the blinds —
Offering a chance to start the day.
Toes wiggled gently under the white sheet;
Legs stretched as far as they would go!
A few deep breaths of fresh morning air for Lungs as
Head rocked side to side ever so slightly.
“It is time to shine,” Brain whispered.
Like a toddler saying, “So big”,
Arms attempted to reach overhead,
But major stiffness from Pectoralis
Vetoed the motion.
Memory scanned Brain and
Brought buffering images of the gym to surface.
An audible sigh reached Ear
“Today’s going to be a lot harder than I thought it would be”
Mumbled mouth.
Triceps screamed as they extended to pull the sheet over Eyes.
Soreness, you make me feel like I paid my dues;
I’m in a love-hate relationship with you.
How delightful, line after line! You really capture that satisfied ache the day after pushing ourselves physically. The love-hate relationship is perfect for describing this!
Rachelle, I feel your pain, that morning stiffness that wars agains my will. You have constructed this ode in a masterful way with the inversions and passive constructions that illuminate our understanding of your morning struggle to move. I love the way each body part functions as the subject in control of the “I” that owns the body.
Rachelle,
I so appreciate how your poem is positioned in the physical, in the body. This is a celebration of our limbs and motion that is often ignored or overlooked in teaching, but you bring to our consciousness.
Sarah
Mo,
I love your “Ode to My Instant Pot”. When you used the description of “your sparkling stainless steel body” was when life was blown into the pot within the poem. Would it be ok for me to copy this and share with a friend, who is an “Instant Pot” fanatic?
Carla
I’d be honored. Thanks!
Ode to My Best Friend
I love the way that you are always there for me,
I step-out on the cold, frosty mornings
And you sit faithfully,
Waiting for me to come
Put the key in the ignition and turn,…
Immediately you begin humming,
At my request, you carry me miles and miles.,
Over the bridges, through the woods,
Down the streets and highways.
Sometimes you saunter lazily down the country roads
Other times you speed bravely down the freeways.
You climb up rocky, mountain, gravel trails.
And you never complain.
You listen to me:
My songs, my prayers,
And conversations with myself and others,
Yet you never interupt.
I love your cute blue tooth,
And your patient navigator.
You are so patient with me
When I take to long to wash you,
Vcuum your floors,
Or clean the clutter of my books in the seat.
You are a true friend,
My Tuscon Hyundai.
Over the river and through the woods! I can almost see Grandmother’s house off in the distance on a cold, frosty morning!
I started singing the song! Your trusty friend… and blue tooth (took me a minute). Love the plays on words here.
Carla, I often think of our cars as the iconic heartbeat of our nation, loyal, dependable, ready to take as “lands away.” I love the way you caress and honor your car w/ words.
“Ode to the OED”
Yo, Word hoarder, Heavy lifter of
Language and Lexicons,
Family tree of etymology,
I’d be speechless without you.
You’re oft misunderstood,
mispronounced, misused,
Maligned as Mundane by those who
Misinterpret and misrepresent your
Mini-me Prodigies: Merriam Webster, Black’s Law, Ottis Redding Dictionary of Soul, and—of course—that
Prodigal child, The Urban Dictionary with its
Fifty Shades of Gray Ethos, and
Sometimes you’re
Wielded like weapons,
Projectiles in the mouths of bullies and
Rhetors whose rolling-tongued-taboos
taunt and tease and dismiss be best.
Perched like a bird on a wire your Pronouncements punctuate my
Purple pen.
You ground your roots in thirty-three languages,
Branching into slang, jargon, idiom, can’t, patois, patter.
Your “eses” confound and complicate comprehension: legalese, bureaucratese, journalese, computerese, psychobabble, gibberish, gobbledygook.
Who can decipher this geek speak mumble jumble jabberwocky?
Still, your syllabic shade,
Unruly on untrained tongues, and
Your lexiconical locutions
Linger and whisper words, the
Playground of poets, playwrights, professors, prophets, and pundits.
We teeter, totter, swing, slide, rollick through
Your Syllabic sensations, signs and symbols,
Defining, and Dotting the
Passing landscapes of all people.
*can’t in the third stanza is cant. I had trouble w/ autocorrect throughout my writing today. ?
Glenda, what fabulous wordplay throughout! Did you have your OED next to you as you wrote today?
Wow, Glenda, this was a feast of word treats! Such a delightful blend of entertainment and erudition! Right from the title, I knew I was in for fun frolicking in the playground that is your nimble mind!
There is so much power in that first line, no, first WORD! Plus, you maintained that energy throughout the piece. This is a poem that is fun to read — alliteration, rhyme, internal rhyme, assonance– you’ve got it all!
I was loving this from beginning to end but my favorite part is:
“Yo, Word hoarder…..
I’d be speechless without you.
You’re oft misunderstood,
mispronounced, misused”
The ode to the OED is also clever with the rearrangement of letters! That’s just all pure genius use of the language paying tribute to the OED! Another home run!
Glenda – How fitting that your ode to the greatest of all tomes is chocked full of bold words! I like “lexiconical locutions” especially. And the “eses” are fun words.
Because I have the OED …that huge edition that is in a microscopic print version that has a magnifying glass that comes w/it, so you can read the entries… I’m a heartfelt fan of this amazing reference. It’s totally fun that you paid homage to the cool OED. ??? Susie
That prodigal child…with its Shades of Grey Ethos. I want to steal that line and use it somehow!
An Ode to Legs Of Long Ago
You were always beautiful
Even as newborns with folds and creases and extra layers of fat
I am grateful for the quiet ways you carried me
The way you walked the paths set before me
The way you bent and stretched in my youth
The way you opened like polar ice caps
To sexual pleasures and child birth treasures
You knew what my future held
The life of a teacher who rarely sat down
A mother who would chase little ones
Who would attempt to roller skate
and ride bikes with teens
Who would bake for hours on tired holiday feet
And who would ignore you late at night
as you cried for a gentle massage
I wish I had cherished you more then
When you were the strength and tautness of my roots
When your canvas of caramel coffee
had no strange blue and green streaks
When your smooth surface wasn’t lumpy and bumpy like curdled milk
I miss you
Legs of long ago
But I am learning to love the new you
Learning to listen when you’re hurting
Learning to laugh when you slap each other
or stick to each other
from the heat that burns within
Stacey, I love everything about your ode. The alliteration in “canvas of caramel coffee” is really good. The sensual description and simile in “The way you opened like polar ice caps / To sexual pleasures and childbirth treasures” is simply gorgeous. I, too, have had to learn a new language of love for my legs and the way they carry me through life.
So great, Stacey. I loved all your L words, but especially that last stanza of acceptance. My favorite image is “learning to laugh when you slap each other or stick to each other.”
I wish I had thought of this. My god, I miss my legs of days gone by. They were so … thin
Stacey, what a beautiful tribute to your legs that have carried you down all sorts of paths – I, too, miss my legs of yesterday. I love the line “learning to laugh when you slap each other” – it’s all about adjusting and accepting! Beautiful:
Oh my, this is a lovely, lovely poem. I keep re-reading it and finding new lines to savor. Yours is a wistful celebration of what your body has been, has done for you.
I had a breast removed at age 45 (cancer) and have written in a similar vein: honoring and now missing the breast, thankful for knowing the dear half moon, even if I failed to appreciate it fully while it was still with me.
“EMILY: “Does anyone ever realize life while they live it…every, every minute?”
STAGE MANAGER: “No. Saints and poets maybe…they do some.”
― Thornton Wilder, Our Town
Allison, I appreciate what you shared about your similar poem for your breast. I, too, have written before about cancer. It took both my parents and my closest cousin. Thank you for enjoying my poem.
Open Saturday from 8 to Noon
In college I’d run three miles
to buy a strawberry pie
from a surly old woman
at the farmer’s market.
She was set up in a large tin trailer,
rows upon rows of labeled jams and breads.
I’d never felt such swift greed.
I wanted all everything
except the sugar-free.
A brief moment of eye contact
was my indication to order.
“Four dollars” and a nod
was all she’d give.
I decided I liked her.
So each Saturday I’d return,
a small fascination
I’ve never acknowledged out loud.
Paid for my pie,
and cleaned the tin before I reached home.
Lauren, My favorite line is “I decided I liked her.” This is so unexpected given your descriptions of the “surly woman,” yet w/ out words you remind us we have a choice about how we respond to people—even the unpleasant ones.
Lauren, I didn’t see the end coming, but it’s great. I love your honest. The heart wants what it wants, and yours wanted the strawberry pie. Good. I’m glad you got it!
Your details work so well to show us this moment – surly old woman, rows of labeled jams. The brevity of your exchange made the transaction more powerful and more interesting.
It’s great that your poem admits that you ate the whole pie. You give me an idea that I need to write a binge confessional poem sometime – the things we do for food! And you ran for it – you didn’t just drive to get it. Now
I want pie!
Lauren a I love the story of this! Such a funny secret. Totally engaging poem with a terrific ending. I really like the visuals….”rows and rows,” “four dollars and a nod” ( such a character! ). Thanks for sharing your secret! LOL! Susie
Lauren, some of my favorite moments in this distinct poem: swift greed, “Four dollars” and a nod, a small fascination I’ve never acknowledged out loud. I am loving your poems this week!
Ode to My New Showerhead
Oh, glorious flow!
No longer must I leap from drop to drop
Hungering to know
The joy
Of sparkling waves upon my nape.
I once loved another, it’s true
But he let me down.
Our rushing river tired
Until it was a mere trickle
Of care
I hardly felt its presence at the end
There was nothing left.
No drips
No drops
No love.
But thou.Thou art strong
A virtual Niagara Falls
The force of your love astounds me
Fills me up
You cleanse me as no other has done.
Nay, do not think me fickle
I shall love thee as no other
Until hard water deposits
Destroy our love
And we say adieu
It was so easy to read this in a dramatic voice! You’ve done a great job of creating a rhythm and a light-hearted humor in this piece.
Gayle, Words I love most in your ode: nape, mere trickle, virtual Niagara Falls, astounds, fickle, nay, thou, adieu. These words and phrases add humor and a melodramatic flair to your ode. Great topic choice, too.
Gayle, glorious, nape, mere trickle, thou, nay, fickle, and adieu have all created such a lofty tone. A tone that your shower head clearly deserves!
Who but a creative person would have come up
With such a witty and fun ode to a mere fixture? I am just in awe! How unique and energetic!
ODE TO MY STYLUS
When I say “stylus” I don’t mean “stylist”
But both can serve a similar purpose.
Both help me write so much better.
With my stylus I can more quickly reach
Cites on my tablet or phone.
The slender blue pen with the fine wire tip
Helps me check “Urban Slang” and sound so hip.
I can swipe across the face of my phone
Tap in my code and in just a jiffy,
I’m in another mode.
It’s even helping me to write this ode.
With my tablet stylus, I can go ‘round the world.
Unfortunately, too often, though, I hit a wrong key
That sends me to and unplanned site.
It makes me feel like a silly monkey.
But I love my stylus and see that I must
Give credit where credit is due.
It may sound funny; it may seem strange
But using the stylus has another plus.
It’s a way that I can reach you,
You viewers and writers on this list.
It’s with the help of the stylus I hold in my fist.
Anna:
“It’s even helping me to write this ode”
I love that you use your device for writing. I do that too at times. I am always curious about the ways that authors write – whether with a pen and paper or on a laptop or on an iPad.
I love your poem- you honor your stylus admirably!
Kim, I use my laptop keyboard more than the stylus for extensive writing. I get frustrated with “autocorrect” that occurs too often on tablets and phones. On the other hand, I’m more agile on the phone with the stylus than with my fingers.
I’m old school having learned to type on a typewriter and paid for college byworking as a secretary. Hard to use just thumbs when I’m more comfortable using all two thumbs and eight fingers.
But, it was fun writing an ode to my new tool. 🙂
I really like how you ended your ode by addressing the reader and really pulling us in. The rhythm and rhyme are great, too. I feel like I’m missing out by not using a stylus, though I could also use a stylist!
Anna, What a superb selection for an ode. My favorite lines and images are
“I can swipe across the face of my phone
Tap in my code and in just a jiffy,
I’m in another mode.
It’s even helping me to write this ode.“
Excellent rhyme w/ “ode/mode” and assonance w/ the long “o” sound.
Ode to My Silver Money Clip
I’ll never forget the summer day in
Jackson, Wyoming
when I saw you sparkle
behind the display cabinet glass.
Resting on a mat of black velvet,
your utilitarian form,
a symbol of prosperity and order
(when filled with cash…which isn’t often),
appealed to my desire for
art and craftsmanship.
Sometimes I hear the wolf? coyote?
howling under the silver moon.
Argent stars twinkle
in the rough, pitted sky.
Stellar! $6 clenched tightly, securely!
Always there in a pinch
when I need to tip the driver or pay to park.
I’ll never forget the year (or two?) you left me.
Perhaps you needed some time to yourself.
I thought I had lost you forever.
Thank you for returning from your
solitary meditations in my old backpack.
I learned to appreciate you and
never take you for granted.
This summer you will be thirty (maybe),
and we’ll show the world that
cash is king!
We’ll ignore Debit Card’s envious stares and
dole out crisp new bills to merchants
all over town!
This I love – the whole thing, but especially:
Cash is king. Personifying that debit card is hilarious! Envious stares at that cash.
Shaun, I’ve always been fascinated by the image of a man taking a money clip rather than a wallet out of his pocket, and I can imagine your clip as indicative of the Jackson Hole image (I live three hours from JH). The juxtaposition of art and craft is evident in the clip throughout the poem,
Shaun, cash is king and so are you! I’m about to make a confession here…I have never used a debit card. I mean I have one, but I’ve never used it. I love your use of personification. I remember the first time my husband got a money clip. I think it made home feel like a real, adult man ?
Mo, funny “you never pressured me…” – I see what you did there! The moonshine dish at the end made me throw up a little!
Shaun, what a treat to have a useful and beautiful piece of art! I particularly am drawn the rationale for losing the clip…you personified it said,
“I’ll never forget the year (or two?) you left me.
Perhaps you needed some time to yourself.”
I’ll have to remember that the next time I misplace my keys and my husband asks can’t you remember where you last had them. I’ll be able to quote a published poet who suggests sometimes our things need some time to themselves!
Another confession, Shaun. You caught me in the one lie I put in the poem. I haven’t made moonshine in the IP…yet.
Ode to Facebook
Oh Facebook, how did the world ever revolve
without your splendid presence?
What did we do with ourselves before your food posts?
How did we survive without the knowledge of what others were eating,
where they’re vacationing, that the temperature outside is
like that one level of Super Mario Bros. where the sun it trying to kill Mario?
How your wit and sarcasm abound.
I adore how Kermit always minds his own business
Even if no one else does.
Visiting you is my favorite way to pass the time,
better even than rocking with Grandma on the front porch,
baby snuggles, and the laughter of children.
For they can not compare to your epic video compilations!
KiKi, grab your love partner, and let’s dance!
NJ, Ooo the biting, critical tone in the questions you pose are wonderful. How did we survive outside the pseudo togetherness of FB. Now I must go see how many likes I have on my puppy post from yesterday. ?
My favorite part:
I adore how Kermit always minds his own business
Even if no one else does
That made me laugh. Your style in calling Kermit out for this good deed is just fabulous. We need more Kermits.
We need SO many more Kermits!
Love, love, love this, yet I too will leave this site and check to see what my “friends” are up to. What’s wrong with us?!? Oh well, at least you got me thinking about the baby snuggles I’ll get this weekend.
I LOVE baby snuggles!!!
Oh, so much truth in the lines “visiting you is my favorite way to pass the time, better even than…” A good reminder for the internet world.
It makes me so sad that this is true. Most of the time, the little things in life are way better than a like on FB!
This morning, I added in a new first line.
**Feelin’ sassy. Might delete later. IDK**
?
Love this ode to FB! I chuckled at each line. Before FB there was MySpace and it’s interesting that didn’t last very long. FB is probably here to stay.
Mo, Your ode is so much fun. I love the puns “blow off a little steam” and “you never pressured me.” I live in fear of my Instant Pot but have used it some. I’m excited to add humor to a poem. Thanks for the inspiration!
The fear is real. Almost everyone I know who owns an IP has experienced it!
Mo, thanks for ANOTHER fun writing challenge today. Your poem is hilarious – – the stainless steel body, the no pressure (alluding to a pressure cooker), and the mention of the speed like a race car and the outdated cousin crock pot. You had me laughing the whole way through! Cleverly worded to make us think!
grounds
went to the cupboard today
lifted the lid of
dark roast
tiny granules
from a tree
miles away from here
loving ground
by Him
and i thought
what if answers were
a thing that could
be lifted, ground
maybe scooped
or seeped
or sipped
from a cup
what if waiting were
just the right words
that after water runs
over and through
percolates minds
assuages pain
and allows
a verse
toward truth
and what if in these
coffee beans
lovingly ground for me
some magical cure
potion and salve
released when it
touched
my
lips
so I sip
curled up
in my comfy chair
and meditate on
the what-ifs of today and
wait for
answers and magic
Sarah, I want those magic beans. That’s pretty profound…..that everything is steeped – not just coffee, but thoughts and the very fabric of life. Beanstalks aren’t the only thing from magic beans traded for a cow — but life holds its own magic. You are such a master of thought and word – – I love this!
Assuages pain and allows a verse toward truth…what magical imagery! I love this ode to my favorite morning drink. Beautiful.
I love the repeated “what if” – I never realized that when I am enjoying a nice cup of coffee, I also contemplate a lot of uncertainties one faces throughout the day. Very introspective!
Sarah, My husband makes my coffee every day, and he is not a coffee drinker, so the idea of service seeped through your poem speaks to me. That image of a lifted lid reminds me of all that’s needed to receive “answers and magic.” I love the contemplative tone in your ode to coffee and the time it gifts us when we sit in the quiet w/ a cup of joe.
This is so lovely. I love the short stanzas. It felt like the words of the poem were being poured into a cup as you thought them. I always forget about how much the visual organization of a piece can impact the reading of it. You’ve done that well here!
Sarah, I love how you have brought together so many topics in a poem about coffee. The sounds that repeat through are so lyrical. This is another poem that needs to be read aloud.
Kim,
One thing that I find intriguing about this poem is the use of Him (capitalized). Who is Him?
He is my husband. Are you familiar with love languages? His love language is service. Mine is words of affirmation. Knowing he shows me love in acts, the act of grinding the coffee beans for me is his love in action.
Sarah – What a marvelous thought…”what if answers could be lifted …ground…sipped…sifted?” A worthy query for sure! And the idea that waiting …percolates minds & assuages pain—-I’ve read this several times and still am struck by the inventiveness of these what-ifs and coffee. You are crafting such a loaded piece here. It seems just right to end in the comforting chair as you ponder with a cup of that healing potion in hand. Since I can’t have caffeine any more, I’m jealous of that comforting end image. Decaf is fine, but I really miss the healing mojo of high test coffee. Thanks for percolating today!! Susie
Oh, yes. Great ode to coffee! What would we do without it, especially teacher-writers.
[Writerly Note for Today: I will be on the road all day today, heading home from the cool weather of Wisconsin (whew) and back to the swamp heat of St. Louis….but I’ll be responding as soon as I get WiFi again.]
ODE TO ALL YA’LL
To you writers out there
who care
to choose a word, a phrase,
tickled by a muse,
layer an image,
employ those sensory reminders
of something universal to us all;
who dig
for that color,
that voice with echoes,
the verb that recreates
that moment that teeters atop the dam
of honesty,
letting
loose the waters
that seep into our own experiences,
connecting us
like aspen roots
to a much bigger
one.
To you writers
who know
that your response to
other’s words
carries all of us along
on a powerful carnival ride
that at one moment
trips the giggle wire
while at another
sends our arms to the air
in the sheer exhilaration
of letting go and
putting that word to the line,
hitting “submit,”
knowing deep down
you want
to ride again,
squealing
that you’ve said
what needed saying —
that you are a writer
among writers –
empowered by the most human
and magical beans –
the words we write.
by Susie Morice
Susie, yes! I do this every single time what you mention here in these lines:
To you writers
who know
that your response to
other’s words
carries all of us along
on a powerful carnival ride
that at one moment
trips the giggle wire
while at another
sends our arms to the air
in the sheer exhilaration
of letting go and
putting that word to the line,
This group IS my carnival ride. This group and the writing are the weeks of the month I breathe. I like these magic beans, too – – you and Sarah have it going on today with the magic beans. Coffee, thoughts, words, life…….the important stuff. Thank you for saying in a verse what I feel every time we have our writing week. I love the giggles, and I love the tears. No one needs therapy with a group like ours. We are our therapy – – we help each other breathe.
I just joined this group. It may be the best thing I’ve done this year! Thanks to all of you. I love reading your work, and having something to write FOR is rekindling my love of the process. Your poems are funny and sad and inspiring and real. The prompts and the models give me direction. Again, I thank you all!
Kim quoted the lines I planned to quote. :-(. Now I have to find others that moved me as much. Then I’d have to quote the whole poem, because in it you summarize the power of well written words and the encouragement we get in this community of writers.
It is my hope that classroom teachers viewing recognize the value of nurturing a writing community where students are allotted time to experience and explore the power of THEIR OWN written words.
Susie, First, Sade travels. Thank you for this lovely tribute and for being in this space. My favorite image is if the Aspen roots. I read “The Hidden Life of Trees” a few months ago, so I can’t look at or think about trees w/out thinking about their human characteristics and communal interdependence. Wonderful alliteration in “words we write.”
Susie, thank you so much for your thoughtfulness in writing a poem to all of us. I love that you appreciate how much we have to work and “dig.” The aspen roots simile is absolutely perfect. This writing community has been transformative for me, and it sure seems like for lots of other people, too. I’m also glad I’m not the only one who is exhilarated when others take the time to comment on our poems.
Quick question- when should we expect a book of your poems? You have serious talent!
How to respond without responding to every line? They all moved me! I absolutely loved the choice of the aspen roots since trees connect to paper to pages to words and are all about growth. And of course, magical beans! What a perfect nod for taking us to other worlds.
Susie, you capture so well what it’s like to be a writer. I love your use of space in this poem and how it forces the reader to pause at just the right moments.
Mo — You gave me several giggles here, as I had to stare down my own Instant Pot for quite awhile before I embraced the “sparkling stainless.” Ha! Pun after pun, I was just chuckling along… “pressured” (LOL!) and “letting off steam and “plugging away” among the fun spots. What a good way to start me day. I will think of my Instant Pot with a whole new grin from now on! Cool! Susie
Ode to My Hair Clip
We’ve been together now
for years,
and I think it’s time we
comb the area and
put down some roots.
I need to keep you in my life.
You help me hold it together
when it all gets squirrelly.
Without you, it would all
come tumbling down
in a matted heap,
leaving wayward strands
confused, not knowing
which way to go.
I’m grateful to you for
having my back and
keeping me cool
for keeping me untangled
and able to see things
for what they truly are.
You keep me in my lane –
and help me avoid collisions
with walls and cars and
people and random things
like pickle displays in
Kroger and
cactus plants in Lowe’s.
You encourage my reading habit
even more than my glasses do.
You really help me keep a clear head.
I admire how you keep holding on
for the wild ride,
never letting go,
even when everything is hairy.
Oh Goody, you’re my main squeeze!
Kim – You, like Mo, had me just chuckling along the ride of your poem. My favorite parts of your piece is the power that the clip has to keep you from running amok (avoid collisions with walls and cars….pickle displays and cactus plants at Lowe’s (LOLOLOL! I can just see this!). You “deep holding on” as this is a really funny poem. When I got to “Goody” at the end, I laughed out loud having used Goody clips myself in the past. I found myself standing at Walgreen’s looking over all the clippy devices and settling on a Goody, saying “Oh, Goody.” Isn’t poetry a bunch of fun! Thanks, Susie
Kim, this is like a movie in my mind! Love this: pickle displays in
Kroger and
cactus plants in Lowe’s.
Sometimes I wonder what life would be like without something as simple as the thing that controls our hair. ?
Kim, Hahaha! That last line, “You’re my main squeeze.” Funny innuendo! Love all the puns: “comb the area and put down some roots.” So clever!
Talk about punny! Well done!
Ahhh! You express many of my fears over trying an instant pot here, and I’m forced to admit that I still rely on my crock pot. Maybe one day soon as the cheesecake 17 is so tempting. I love the humor in these last lines too. You have captured the qualities of the pot in a way that seems light, unforced, and fun, a reflection of using one, I’m sure!