Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
Our Host
Mo Daley is a middle school reading specialist in Homewood, IL. After work, she enjoys spending time with her family, bike riding, traveling, and fixing up her home. You can occasionally find her at pub trivias in the Chicago suburbs. EthicalELA has been an amazing boon to her writing the last few years. You can find Mo on Twitter and Instagram @ofdaleys.
The Inspiration
This year I taught Margarita Engle’s beautiful novel-in-verse The Poet Slave of Cuba: A Biography of Juan Francisco Manzo, which in turn inspired me to read Autobiography of a Slave by Juan Francisco Manzano. Manzano wrote many poems in the decima format, a form born in Spain in the 14th century and popularized later in Latin America.
Process
A decima can be about any topic. It should have 10 lines of 8 syllables each with a rhyme scheme of ABBAACCDDC. Write one or more stanzas. In Ecuador, the traditional decima is 44 lines long. I found writing two stanzas in this format challenging enough for me today!
Play with your rhyming skills today and write about something that’s on your mind. See if you can write 10 lines with 8 syllables in each while following the ABBAACCDDC rhyme scheme. If this prompt doesn’t work for you today, write about something that moves you.
Mo’s Poem
Post Pandemic Decima
By Mo Daley
Here ye! Hear ye! The pandemic
is over! Go back to your lives
like the astronaut survives
reentry, I am alchemic.
Change is not just academic-
countless bad habits to unlearn
as dormant norms, values, return.
Wondering who has the vaccine.
Isolation no more routine.
It’s normalcy for which I yearn.
Like a chrysalis emerging
with shy awkwardness from lockdown
I creep forward: I won’t back down.
Pre- and post- pandemic emerging,
thoughts of family converging.
Living a life beyond surreal
“In this together” was the spiel.
Pieces of my life are still there.
I never knew how much I’d bear.
Let’s move forward with love and heal!
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
Retirement
Kitchen table, hot cup of tea:
savoring this new gift of time,
allowing myself to unwind,
enjoying a summer to BE.
Crafting a new identity
with bits and scraps already there:
read, write, swim, bike, paint, bake, plant, share.
Less planning, more capriciousness.
More learning, less ambitiousness.
A precious gift, I know. So rare.
Enjoy this new chapter. Your line “crafting a new identity” hits me as I am heading into empty nesting and need to find myself again.
Mary,
While I am still years away from retirement, I so relate to your feelings. My oldest is out of the house and I only have two years (?) left with my youngest. I am, like you, trying to find myself before I am completely on my own so that I am not so lost. Your line, “Crafting a new identity” really spoke to me.
Mary, as I inch closer to retirement, I use my summers to PRACTICE: I read, write, run, bike, play, share. (Not baking or painting…but close on other fronts!) Your poem is true to the form (I ADMIRED the capriciousness/ambitiousness rhyme!) and also a lovely message. Enjoy the precious gift.
Agreed! Each “summer off” I tell myself, “It can be like this ALL the time!” I love teaching, but it is exciting to look forward to ‘next.’ I love the “scraps already there” – knowing that this is bits and pieces that fill each day. And “More learning, less ambitiousness” – that learning comes from settling in and enjoying the experience, the process, not just chasing projects and next to-dos on a performance scale. Lovely lovely lovely.
Mary Lee, crafting a new identity sounds absolutely delicious! More capriciousness does, too! Wonderful.
Mo, you captured so many of the same feelings as I am experiencing about this stage of the pandemic. Your companions to the astronaut recently is perfection. Unlearning bad habits is still a challenge I’m working through! And your choices of the word “pieces” of my life are still there rings so true. I feel like I am still not whole and will never be the same. Magnificent job!
First, thank you Mo for a giving me a new poetry form to try. Second, I thought I posted my poem yesterday…guess not.
Where Did The Time Go – Decima
The beginning of school is near.
It feels like summer just begun.
I’m sure I’m not the only one.
Glancing back at time in the rear.
Viewing what’s remaining with tears.
All my intentions were upright.
I should have said NO in hindsight.
Here I am with two-ish weeks left.
Unfinished work – my soul, bereft.
I will enjoy these days despite.
Donnetta, I see you suffer from the same thing I do. We make plans. At the time, they sound fantastic. They arrive…we regret making them. Lol. “Glancing back at time in the rear” is so cleverly worded! Why DOES summer fly by? Your positive mindset at the end is all you can do. Enjoy your well-earned remaining days!
I have felt these feelings for so many years! I hope my retirement poem isn’t too much of a rub!!
Donnetta, YES, you are not the only one who feels this way. Enjoy the rest of your time, please. You deserve it.
Donnetta,
Oh such true words! When summer begins we think that we’ve got oh so much time–but no! It whizzes and fritters away. I’m sorry your school starts so early, I feel your line: “Unfinished work – my soul, bereft” most profoundly.
Unfinished work- my soul, bereft. Yep.
Once sounds of children did abound
The rush of feet pounding down streets,
giggles and laughter on repeat
Lemonade-stand-joy all around,
hours of storytime and playgrounds
Play doh, crayons and bubbles, too,
biking, hiking, baking will do.
Snuggles so tight, sweet nightie, night
These three in my arms, life was right
My life never dull with this crew
Now no sounds of children abound
dear son has moved, dear daughter too
when youngest leaves, what shall I do?
Yearn for laughter in the background
Yearn for disorder, mud, playgrounds…
When they were young my stress was high
life rushed, plans often went awry
but amid the hustle was life
with sweetness my world was rife
now with silence, winter is nigh
Tammi, your closing line pulls on the heart strings! I love how you capture life with children where plans easily go awry. As an empty nester…is that a word…I can only say, hugs! I know that yearning emotion you share so well.
Tammi, what a poignant verse. “stress was high / life was rushed” so true. But I love the “amid the hustle was life / with sweetness my world was rife” It sounds like you did your life and work well, and you again will look forward to a successful next chapter. I love what you did with the rhyming here. A bit of repetition and some of the same rhymes really ties together the two stanzas in an important way. I also like the bonus /ou/ sounds in that second line:
This brought back so many of my own childhood memories, and offered some insight as to how our mother must have felt with eight (!) leaving the nest. We joke that parents are probably grateful for the peach and quiet, but I suspect there is much more of this sense of loss, yearning, and gratitude for what one once had. I love this hyphenated adjective “Lemonade-stand-joy” and all the memory-soaked childhood words. The closing line ‘awwwed’ me, in a bittersweet way.
Tammi — I’m feeling for the loss of those voices and sweet calamity. I especially understand the shift in our lives that bring us silence that we hadn’t really expected it to be so loud and unsettling. I’m touched by the tenderness of this. Susie
You’ve done so well creating a feeling of sadness and emptiness. Your poem called these feelings up in me too. Thank you, I caught in the stress of child rearing, needed this.
I particularly like the last 3 lines, “but amid the hustle was life/with sweetness my world was rife/now with sadness winter is nigh.”
Through tears, I am trying to compose this response! In August, both of my daughters will be out of the house. “But amid the hustle was life” is exactly right! What will there be to go home to at the end of a work day? Why bother making dinner? Who will play a spontaneous board game? I just cannot imagine. Your closing contrast between the two life stages is eerily impactful: “with sweetness my world was rife now with silence, my winter is nigh”.
So raw and bittersweet. We want them to be independent, but on our schedules, right? It will be okay. You’ll be okay. Life just keeps getting better.
Thanks, Mo, for another great prompt! I enjoy pushing against rhyme and syllable counts. I struggled a bit without a defined meter, and my poem suffers as a result :-/ but I enjoyed the math-like challenge of form!
I recently read A Gentleman in Moscow and jotted this line in my notebook: “…Imagining what might happen if one’s circumstances were different was the only sure route to madness.” I tried to explore that thought in my poem tonight.
What Is Is
The sun is a relentless hot
poultice on my neck and shoulder,
yet to wish one degree colder
is wasted breath and wasted thought:
what is still is; the wish is naught.
A Gentleman of Moscow said
(inside a thoughtful book I read)
To wish one’s circumstance away
will lead to madness, no delay.
So heat, beat on: I’m safe, I’m fed.
So why is it we fuss and stew
About the things we cannot change?
To rail against the fates is strange–
Yet still we do, and still we do:
We push the boulder till we’re through.
And here lies madness on our path
As circumstances stir our wrath.
You see, acceptance is the key
to living long and happily–
Accept the circumstance and laugh.
Allison — I really enjoyed this thought provoking poem. I agree to obsessing over things we can not change is definitely not healthy. I found this line especially powerful: “And here lies madness on our path/as circumstances stir our wrath.”
Allison, Wow, I love how you so artfully capture this philosophical view and connect it to an everyday experience. Acceptance is the key….love that line. As easy as it sounds, this is as heavy as the heat you describe. Brilliant!
Pretty u h ditto what Barb said! I love the second stanza.
Allison, what teaching you have done here. You always seem to make your use of forms look easy and your execution is flawless. That image of the relentless heat of the sun like a poultice on your neck and shoulders brings immediate sensory memory!
Gee whiz, Allison – This poem is a winner in form and in content… remarkable feat.
The Gentleman from Moscow was a favorite for me— loved that novel. So, your chosen line pulled from your journal (which I love) yields a deep well of those tugs I’ve felt from the heart of many of your poems. It is keenly Allison. I hear the turmoil in “rail against “ and “fuss and stew” and the image of Sisyphus and that blasted Boulder (love that) and the repeated “still we do”, accenting Sisyphus’ repeated woe of pushing against stone. Such a perfect image. And I also loved the journey to the resolve to laugh, which you know I find a strong “poultice”… another perfect Iowa summer image. There’s such cohesion in that opener (poultice on the neck) and your final resolve (laugh).
Then, I marvel that you rhyme this into a decima, which makes this quite brilliant. I totally agree with Denise in this seamless execution.
Super poem, my friend! May this week’s days be Boulder-less! ? Hugs, Susie
This is exactly the kind of attitude I need to read right now! I am a huge proponent of ‘accepting what is’ not only with grace, but with revelry. Windy day out on the bike ride? Adds to the value of workout! Lovely! And this is only but a fraction of the challenges others are faced with that they must find some way of responding to in their daily lives. “We cannot change the course of the wind, but we can adjust our sails.” So many thoughts like that come to mind, but I appreciate the thorough exploration here. Loved this line, “So heat, beat on: I’m safe, I’m fed.” Ironic with the use of “stew” in the next stanza’s opening line – I actually thought of stew the food! Not sure that was intended, but it did make me smile.
Denise, I love “adjust our sails”…I may have to borrow that 🙂 Susie
Allison, I appreciate how you shared with us your struggle while composing. Sometimes I wonder if only I am at home struggling with these prompts! Your poem is beautiful! How interesting that your writing process was a metaphoric comparison to life itself. “We push the boulder until we’re through”.
With age and practice, I am getting better at accepting “the circumstance” and laughing.
Where Did The Time Go? – (Decima)
The beginning of school is near.
It feels like summer just begun.
I’m sure I’m not the only one.
Glancing back at time in the rear.
Viewing remaining time with tears.
All my intentions were upright.
I should have said NO in hindsight.
Here I am with two-ish weeks left.
Unfinished work – my soul, bereft.
I will enjoy the days despite.
Donnetta, you’ve captured those end-of-summer blues so well! The time starts ticking and eyes start tearing. The time is fleeting to linger over coffee and read the afternoon away for pleasure…..I’m
with you, friend!
Too soon, Donetta! Too soon! Is it okay if I’m not ready to read your poem yet? LOL
Donnetta, I agree! I’m, like, wait, didn’t summer just start?! Keep enjoying the time you have left! Thanks for writing and sharing this!
Donetta, you are definitely not the only one who feels this ambivalence about summer ending/school beginning. – “I should have said NO in hindsight.”
Donnetta, you know the reason you’re feeling like this! You care! You’re a professional who reflects on what worked and what didn’t and you’re already being to consider what you can do differently so that even more students thrive in the garden of learning you’re going the nurture this year. Have no fear; we’ll be here to cheer as the time draws near.
As you plan for the upcoming year, do BUILD IN self-care. Believe it or not, you’ll be one of the most important people in the classroom! When you’re well, you can tend to the students in your care. Okay? You’re closing line suggests you’re already thinking along these lines.
Right there with you, Donetta. I shed tears at summer end too.
Anna. I love your line “All my intentions were upright”. I think we can put a lot of pressure on ourselves to accomplish unimaginable feats. The word bereft surely shows the depth of your emotions. Hope you can enjoy the last few days of summer break.
Donetta, sorry about the name error. I need to ?.
Donnetta, doesn’t that always happen? The best laid plans…But I love the positive note in the last line. Enjoy these two weeks!
Donetta — holy cow…already! I feel for you! Time: poof! Susie
Donnetta,
I am with you and it is soooo frustrating! I have books still to read, poems to write, lessons to tweak, weight to lose??, seminars to attend, training to complete, etc! I am crying with you.
Let’s try to enjoy every minute we have! ❤️?
Thank you, Mo, for this new form for me. I twerked it a little because I just came back from rejuvenating at the beach and had more to say.
Ocean
The ocean fills me with such delight.
Puts goose bumps on my skin
with a wet dunking that gives me a grin
and fills me with calm after a fright,
unspooling me from my tightened plight.
The sounds of the surf, smells of salty air
pieces of seaweed tucked in my hair
I rest.
Warmth of the sand, blue sky overhead,
muscles relaxed in a natural bed.
I see frolicking dolphins, oh so rare
that the worries and pains wash away.
Not stressed
while I see these dolphins at play.
Hee Hee! No I am not twerking…I was tweeking. Can’t find away to edit this.
Susan O
I’m dying here!
???
Love that the beach gave you delight and rest! I’m going tomorrow. So fun that you saw dolphins at play!
Oh, Susan, your images make me homesick for San Diego again! I knew you had me hooked with your opening line. “The ocean fills me with such delight.”
Thanks for the memories!
I’m so glad you changed the prompt to fit your needs today, Susan. Is that the beach I hear calling? I think so! Well done!
Susan, nice variation on the decima. I like what you did with the “I rest” and “Not stressed” lines. A day at the ocean will do that! Beautiful.
Susan,
Your vivid imagery has convinced me to get in the car and head to Michigan to enjoy a beach day. I am not even kidding. I was debating the drive, but your poem came at the perfect moment. I love how writing can be like that. No dolphins in Lake Michigan, but “warmth of the sand, blue sky overhead, muscles relaxed in a natural bed” will happen!
Thank you for being my right place at the right time!
Mo, thank you so much for today’s prompt and your inspiring poetry. My poem is a work in progress. This weekend I spent a lot of time traveling across Iowa’s back roads which inspired this draft.
Backroad Flight
Quilted clouds tower, gray-tipped; white
We buzz across narrow blacktops
Curve wildly between golden crops
Braking hard to a deer in flight
Skittering too in the harsh light
Sun shadows shiver; our hearts thud
Stuttering back to life, we trudge
Onward through endless seas of green
Slow through the tiny towns between
Relishing back roads; nature’s blood
Barb Edler
18 July 2021
Barb! That contrast of seas of green and nature’s blood is haunting and yet also bard of this between-ness you explore in this poem. Beautiful.
Love this— I’m traveling right along with you! The first line— wow!
Barb, those narrow blacktops had me smiling and wondering – roofs or roads? I read this several times and can see it either way – car or plane – even the deer in flight like maybe Donder or Blitzen out for a spin. ? I love the mystery of car or plane!
Barb — These images of Iowa are so gorgeous. The “seas of green” and “quilted clouds” and those wild ribbon roads. I’m anxious to be back in Iowa! Whoohoo! You do great justice to the treasure of Iowa’s backroads. Hugs, Susie
Quilted clouds, Golden crops, sun shadows, deer in flight, seas of green. Thanks for painting such a beautiful picture for our non-Midwestern friends!
Barb, what a beautiful slice of Americana. I can just envision your “quilted clouds” in all of their puffy stitched glory.
These beautiful images paint such a vivid picture of your trip and nature. I can see this like a painting in my mind. Gorgeous!
There is so much about this poem that I love, I don’t know where to begin! I’ve never been to Iowa, but your poem lets me visit. I adore the idea of back roads being “nature’s blood,” love the line “Sun shadows shiver; our hearts thud,” and, too, the very first image “Quilted clouds tower, gray-tipped; white” … truly, beautiful. Thank you!
Barb, THIS is the poem I wish I’d written today! Your imagery is fantastic: that #IowaSky! I could picture the quilted gray-tipped clouds…and the GREENS…and the fawns…You painted my road! I love how you ended on “nature’s blood.” Beautiful.
Barb, I’ve traveled these backroads and have experienced braking hard for critters. I surely miss the crops this time of year. This is our third summer we’ve missed “onward through endless seas of green / Slow through the tiny towns between.” One of our favorite vacations was through the back roads in northeastern Iowa.
Traveling the backroads, taking it easy and taking our time…”Stuttering back to life…”
Barb,
Your opening line “quilted clouds tower, gray-tipped white” grabbed me immediately! Such perfect imagery!
I must say that I am NOT a rhyming person. That said, I never back down from a challenge. Still, I feel that this is not my best work, I’ll have to return to the form someday and try again. As I mentioned in June, my oldest son (he’s 19) is doing wildland firefighting this summer and he was just home for a few days after one of the longest “rolls” his company has ever seen, thus the subject matter.
Three Fires, Thirty Days
On his first eligible day
He was called to do his first roll.
Usually, a fourteen day goal
is a routine post, a mainstay,
but this long year is not that way.
Montana’s Crow Reservation–
Buffalo Pasture location–
in a canyon three hours beyond
a town, bears and MREs bond
men–sooty, steadfast vocation.
One down, and after a short break,
and off to the huge Lava Fire.
A few men traded, those who tire
aren’t there to get a Cal Fire steak,
soggy Subway left in its wake.
Here the lava fields preclude lines
that hand crews dig to make confines
for raging fires. Dry mop with dirt
in the black, but they can’t exert
power over nature’s designs.
Thinking they are on their way home,
to Juniper they are sent now.
After hell beetles they now vow
to finish this small fire and roam
north, beyond the heat dome.
Here there are only a few crews,
the remote Modoc Forest views
are gorgeous with horrible roads.
Four trucks rumble and trundle loads
of men, tired and at their end fuse.
Cara, I can certainly relate to the emotion at the end of your poem. You’ve captured the fatigue and constant battle to fight the forest fires. I imagine your anxiety is high knowing your son is doing this dangerous job. I was particularly struck by your line “After hell beetles they now vow/ to finish this small fire and roam/north, beyond the heat dome.” Powerful poem!
Cara, I was hoping for periodic updates about your sun and also hoping for safety for him and peace for you. Thank you for the details that offer such insight:
And thank you for the exploration of place like Modoc Forest, which I looked up. Learning from/with you!
Cara — Oh my word, this is so blasted scary. The battling of the fires…the seemingly endless fires…the soot, the heat, the constant state of “yet another” fire…and ending with the end of the fuse…masterful construction there. I send my love and care for your son! Holy cow. Thank you for sharing this frightening reality. Susie
Cara, please know how much we appreciate the work your son is doing. We have so many friends who’ve been “threatened” and made to evacuate their homes and businesses because of the fires there!
And, please let him know that he and his comrades are in my daily prayers.
Sincerely, Anna
Wow, Cara. I have tears in my eyes as I read each of your stanzas. Thank you for sharing the details about your son’s very important work. We appreciate and respect him so much. I think you wrote about this as only a mother could. Hugs to both of you.
This is an extraordinary poem, Cara. How hard these days must be for you, knowing your son is right there on the front lines! You have given us all such insight as to the relentless work of fighting these fires. I hope you share this poem with him – he will treasure these words from you.
Cara,
This poem is such a powerful reminder of the dangerous and difficult work firefighters do each day to keep others safe. I can’t imagine how worried you must be. I’m glad your son is safe. I was especially struck by this line:
…but they can’t exert power over nature’s designs
Cara— it is so easy to forget the specific danger these courageous people deal with in the larger horror of what is happening. I can’t imagine the fear you live in. You have made this real for us, here. Godspeed…
Thank you for this touching poem–I live in the shadow of these terrible fires, and worry so about the long fire season ahead. I’m so very grateful to your son and the other brave firefighters who work so hard to keep us safe.
Cara, after I read your introduction, I was surprised at the depth and natural sound of your rhyming. You were able to bring us to each location with details and strong sensory images.
Cara, I’ve been wondering how your son and you are doing – if he was still fighting fires or not.
You’ve managed the rhyme with these three stanzas very well!
I liked especially liked “lava fields preclude lines/ that hand crews dig to make confines”
I have been wondering about your son as I travel back west. He’s doing important work, but that doesn’t make it easy work. Your last image of the trucks rumbling and the tired men was inspired. Keep your head up! ❤️
Cara, You admitted being one who doesn’t back down from a poetry challenge or any challenge for that matter, so I loved you immediately! No wonder you have a such an admirable son doing such important yet dangerous work. I also learned a valuable lesson from you for these Open Write sessions. When posting my poetry, it does not have to be the last time I visit the poems. They don’t have to be in the most perfect form when I post them either. Thank you for this reminder. That being said, your poem put me in your son’s experiences so realistically, and I am EXHAUSTED! “Thinking they are on their way home, to Juniper they are sent now” emphasizes the never-ending battle with a force as strong as fire.
Mo, thank you for sharing the decima. It was a challenge
“Once-in-a-millenium flood
Swept” Europe and heat waves and fires
Offered up the Northwest in pyres
While Germans are sifting through mud.
An insect creeps toward a bud.
Dry weather in the state of Maine
Gives rise to browntail moths – a bane
Poisonous in their infant state.
NPR asks, “Is it too late?”
While mother Earth cries out in pain.
Sources: https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/17/climate/heatwave-weather-hot.html?smid=url-share
https://www.nytimes.com/2021/06/13/us/maine-browntail-moth-caterpillar.html?smid=url-share
Katrina, I really like what you’ve done here. I appreciate how you have tied events from around the world together. We all need to start thinking globally. Your last line is perfect.
Katrina, the imagery in your poem is superb! I was captured by your first stanza, and the closing question is poignant and frightening. Love how you shared your sources, too!
Your view of the world is beautifully written and sadly beautiful. The last stanza says it all…
Katrina, as a late-night poet, I usually respond to the other latecomers. I’m glad I found your “earlier” poem tonight. I love how you worked within the form to address such an important topic. Plus you cited your sources! #Bravo!
Katrina, wow. Thank you for speaking up. And for sharing your sources. So powerful.
I’m with you, Mo. This is a tough scheme, but a good challenge! I managed two stanzas today on a topic I need to process. The format helps with a subject matter that can lend itself to vague or cliche emotions when we try to articulate those. Still some of that going on, but working the rhymes actually made me try to stay away from cliche. This is all I can muster in tribute to my colleague, who passed this Thursday, July 15 as the result of a heart attack.
the news came to me in a text
her questioning if I had heard
I assured her I had no word
thus I was shocked by what came next
his death has left us all so vexed
Eric “Q” Beckman met his end
not one of us can comprehend
how to make sense of such a loss
how to get our feelings across
there is no bringing back our friend
he was young, vibrant, forty-five
brought joy to everyone he met
drove a hearse like it was a ‘vette
loved to laugh, sing and be alive
helping others his greatest drive
it’s hard not to be mad a bit
when other’s life decisions hit
so close to our own tender hearts
it’s not just the one who departs
but everything we’d hoped and wished
Oh gosh, Denise — This is such a poem of woe. How you were able to put something so tender and painful in a decima is amazing. Masterful! I am so so sorry for your loss of a friend, a young friend, a vibrant human being. Gee whiz…just so sorry. Just to see him drive “a hearse like it was a ‘vette” is enough to know this is a person we all wanted to know. Alas. Thank you for sharing this difficult loss. Susie
Denise, I want to echo everything that Susie said. What a lovely tribute to your friend and coworker. I’m so sorry for your loss and in awe of what you wrote today. I hope writing helps you to process your grief. Hugs!
Denise, the sudden loss of a friend is incredibly difficult. I love how you bring Eric to life in this poem. To be so giving, “young, vibrant” helps us to envision him and to feel his spirit. I am particularly moved by your ending words as they are so true. My deepest sympathies to you and Eric’s family. Hugs and prayers, Barb
Oh, Denise, my condolences to you and Q’s family and other colleagues. Sudden heart attacks give us no time to process before, anticipate the grief, and say goodbye. You have used this form well to share some of your pain and begin to process your feelings, not in cliches at all.
My sincere condolences to you and your work family. I know this feeling all too well. I pray that you feel comforted even though those unexplainable losses always leave us questioning. Your poem is a loving tribute to him. I am so sorry. It always seems these sudden (young) losses are those who’ve brought laughter and love. Their hearts are 100% giving!
?
“Her questioning if I had heard”
Ugh…so often via text these words bring shock and pain!
[Note: Hey there, Mo — this decima was like a “poetry throwdown”…dang…this was a booger. But I had fun! Susie]
TWILIGHT FISHING
Some folks swear fishing is boring,
always fumbling, rarely winning,
bit like baseball’s endless innings;
miles of Bass Pro aisles, exploring,
gear I’m sure to struggle storing,
poles and hooks and lures and live bait,
lines, reels, a box to schlep the freight,
tackle guaranteed to work, but…
casts snagged high in bankside chestnut —
a sport designed to praise the wait;
yet,
twilight tickling shadows stretched long,
the optimistic witching wand,
faint breeze stripes contrails on the pond,
bullfrogs belch basso tones in song,
and water striders skim along,
a muskrat slides through sunset light,
while whippoorwills invite the night,
dusk bats swipe in sonar ballet,
I pause, the day’s woes allay,
and just like that, I’ve got a bite.
by Susie Morice, July 18, 2021©
I love how the rhythm shifted from frenetic to languid. I’m there for the second half! The alliteration soothed my soul…
“twilight tickling shadows stretched long,
the optimistic witching wand,
faint breeze stripes contrails on the pond,
bullfrogs belch basso tones in song,”
wow
Susie, I think you can convert some people into fishermen with this poem! I love your “yet,” which is a perfect device to suit the shift in tone. Your images are complimented so well by your word choice and alliteration. Love the whippoorwills!
Ahhh, Susie, what a delightful and fun poem! I love the way you capture the beauty of nature, and your ability to continue fishing for that long-awaited bite. Loved “twilight tickling shadows stretched long,
the optimistic witching wand”
and all the noise from the bullfrogs to the bats….I was completely transported! Of course, the end is brilliant! I am so impressed by your ability to make this poem sing through its rhythm and rhyme.
Thanks for such a joyous read!
Susie, the calm this fishing brings to you is like the calm I get from the ocean. I love the contrasts in this poem from the frustrations such as getting casts snagged high in the bank compared to the faint breeze, the sounds of bullfrogs, the water sliders, etc. Yes, it is all worth it to have the day’s woes be gone. Well done!
Susie, Susie, Suuuussssieeeee! This is a gem of a decima and then some! I feel like I’m right there in the overwhelming Bass Pro Shop hook and lure aisle with you and THEN you take me fishing – and it’s not just the fishing but the full sensory evening fishing immersion. Your words, your rhymes, your alliteration – witching wand, bullfrogs belch basso, while whippoorwills….my, oh my! You have more than a bite – you reeled in a trophy here with this one!
My Susie, my Susie! Only you could make me actually want to go fishing! I think Cousin Billy would be fine too! I marvel, month after month, at the unique ways you craft poems to our prompts. It’s almost as if you have a treasure trove of strategies that fit every prompt.
I love the alliteration sprinkled in your stanzas. Of course you know I winced here:
Loved this fishing trip with you!
WOW! The first stanza’s playful simplicity is the perfect setup to contrast with the utterly gorgeous second stanza. I felt a visceral tug as I moved into the second half of your poem. Your last line “I’ve got a bite” brought the whole thing home to my wild applause! LOVED IT!
Susie, I so love the “yet” between stanzas. I am one who swears fishing is boring. I’ve had very few bites over a lifetime, but I do have a picture of me in waders on my honeymoon with my line going straight up into the trees. My husband is a stanza 2 fisher.
I’m loving those first five lines of rhymes wondering what would happen if a poem used all gerunds for the rhymes…I might try it.
Susie,
Your letter sound repetition mirrors the sounds of actual nature, which I love!
“I pause, the day’s woes allay” is the true allure of fishing, right?
Mo, thank you for this fun inspiration! I loved working with a rhyming structure. I am so impressed with your poem, which spotlights our emerging from this pandemic…love the comparison to a chrysalis.
Here’s my poem…I played with alliteration within the lines, just tried to have a little fun with the form!
dank dizzying days dripping heat
mere motion a menacing fight
today’s air is breezy and light
such a gift, joy, true treasured treat
let’s go outdoors, let’s move our feet
serene surrounds this nature trail
feed the soul with each deep inhale
flora, fauna, water flowing
berries, blossoms, birds bestowing
tender tonic to cure what ails
Maureen- this is next level! Your sounds are wonderful and honestly, quite inspirational. I love how using nature as an inspiration makes everything seem effortless. I can really feel the heaviness in your first two lines.
Maureen, wow, what a gorgeous poem! I can totally relate to the wonder of a summer breeze, one that is not stifling with humidity. Loved the action of the “deep inhale” and your last line was so perfectly delivered. “Tender tonic!” ahhhhhh…..beautiful!
Beautiful alliterations that create vivid images of your day! I loved “flora, fauna, water flowing” mainly because the “f” felt freeing! Gorgeous poem!
??
Maureen, I loved the flow you created, especially in the last three lines: “flora, fauna, water flowing / berries, blossoms, birds bestowing / tender tonic to cure what ails.” This was fun to read out loud. Thanks!
Maureen, I love your rhyme and topic. Yes, indeed, “tender tonic to cure what ails” I’ve been reading everyone’s decimas aloud. They sound so good, and yours has the bonus of alliteration.
Maureen,
Your letter sound repetition is everything!
If you truly listen when you’re in nature, you hear these sounds.
Masterful!
Wow, rhymes are really difficult for me! What a learning experience! Thank you Mo, for this opportunity. I started out wanting to write about my daughter. The poem did not go where I wanted it to because of needing to rhyme. Maybe rhyming poems just need to be approached differently.
She’s nearly seven already
Becoming so long and slender
Makes my heart feel rather tender
To see her so tall and steady.
Mom, she says, I’m ready
I’m going to be a scientist
Or possibly a novelist
And an animal rescuer
A unicorn discoverer
Not to mention a hair stylist!
Emily, your daughter sounds just like me when I was young, except add waitress and lawyer to the list! Even though it isn’t the poem you set out to write, I think it’s terrific. Save it to give to your daughter when she is older.
I can relate to having difficulty rhyming. My new technique is to generate a list of words and potential rhymes in the margin of my notebook sheet before I start writing my poem. As I write them I find myself thinking, “Ooh! That’s will be amazing!” Then when the poem is written, I find I have used very few of them. Oh well. I guess it’s helping my rhyming skill!
I am so impressed! Your rhymes are fabulous!! What a little treasure your daughter is…I love how the future is truly hers, all things possible, all things desired – I especially love “a unicorn discover”!!
Emily,
I love this–just like a seven-year-old, your poem has a sweet whimsical tone to it that is perfect for the subject. Can I join her in being a unicorn discoverer??
Emily,
Great job with your rhyme today. I feel the same as your daughter, I never knew what I wanted to do/be until after I had spent many years volunteering at my kids’ school.
Emily, I love how you’ve captured the joy your daughter gives you. Loved the detail of all the things she might want to be, even “a hair stylist”! Truly a heart-warming poem! Loved it!
Emily, you have captured a treasure of your almost seven year old that you may have never if you hadn’t given yourself the decima constraints. I experienced the same today. I think you must have something there: “Maybe rhyming poems just need to be approached differently.”
even though I am much older than your daughter, I do catch myself with that same attitude about which hobbies to pursue. I could be a baker or a gardener or a movie buff or a unicorn discoverer or maybe even a poet ? Thanks for this today! It’s a good reminder to me to dream big!
Oh, Emily! Remember when the world was so full of options? I love hearing about your daughter’s hopes! “Not to mention” is a great way to tell us that she won’t just be one thing.
I dedicate today’s poem to my favorite cousin who was like a big brother to me. He’s been on death row at San Quentin for 30 years (wrongfully accused) and recently shared a beautiful recording with me. He discussed prison life while a video of the San Francisco ballet played. If it were available for public viewing I would share, but it’s a private link. What you should know is he talks about the simple things he appreciates that we all take for granted. I can’t capture it all here because I got hung up on the rhymes?. So I will leave it at this and perhaps write more about him another day this week.
What is Freedom?
Cousin Billy lives on death row
writing children’s books behind bars,
seeking freedom amongst the stars.
Grandchildren he will never know
unless a judge says “Out, you go!”
Artwork taped on three prison walls,
clanking chains and recorded calls.
He knows he may never be free,
already served ten years times three.
When will there be justice for all?
©Stacey L. Joy
Stacey, the simple images you show us mean so much! The taped artwork, clanking chains, and recorded calls are haunting. I’m so sorry your cousin is having this experience. Hugs!
With only ten lines of eight syllables each, you shared a powerful picture of your cousin. My heart breaks for him and your whole family. It is extraordinary that he is able to find some peace in simple things; “seeking freedom amongst the stars” – this line is beautiful. I just watched ESPN’s 30 for 30 about Maya Moore’s fight for justice for Jonathan Irons (not on death row, but also wrongfully accused/innocent); it is terrifying to me that we put nominal ‘procedures’ and legalese ahead of people, people’s lives. As Jonathan Irons is quoted, “I was fighting a system that was designed for me to fail.” We must transform our criminal justice system.
Stacey — We’ve talked before about Billy, and dang this still stings so deeply. The image of his art, his music, his writing for children…all that in frikkin’ San Quentin. Geez. “Justice for all,” indeed. What a monstrously impossible world we live in. I wish Billy and you and I could go fishing. Love, Susie
Stacey,
You do so much in these few lines. The rhythm really shines through. I can’t shake the sadness I feel at this man who loves so much about the world unjustly serving time. These two lines hit me the hardest:
Stacey, I hope justice is found for your cousin. You place us there with him, clanking chains and artwork on walls. How beautiful to be able to write children’s books in such a situation, to continue humanity in what must be the least humane environment. Prayers.
Stacey, my heart aches for your cousin and you. The unfairness of this situation soundly rings through your poem. I was particularly moved by the line “seeking freedom amongst the stars” because it shows an endless desire to be free and the injustice of living a life behind bars. The details about Billy also reveal a wonderful human spirit through your poem, and I am so sorry he has been wrongfully imprisoned. Your final question is like a death knell that echoes on. Praying that he does receive the justice he deserves.
Wow! All I can say is Wow! Wow! This is very powerful and an example of how one can do something positive out of a wrong. Yes, please write more about Cousin Billy.
Stacey, this rips my heart out – I’m so sorry about your cousin being wrongfully accused and paying too high a price! Thank you for the reminder that we cannot rest while there is justice to be sought for all! The artwork and children’s books help emphasize the innocence and injustice.
Stacey, thank you for sharing about Billy. I hope that judge will send him out. These lines show he has created beauty from ashes:
Stacey,
Humanizing prisoners is much needed in our world.
It is far too easy for people to forget who is behind those walls. Why they are there.
Thank you for composing a poem that serves as such a beautiful, important reminder.
I don’t know why exactly, but I can’t stop thinking about your choice to say the art work is taped on three person walls rather than four. This choice makes me feel so many things. I love it!
Mo!! You made me work hard for this one but I LOVED the journey it took me on. You have depicted so much of my emotions as we prepare to go back to school in a month, full classes, masks, and the Delta variant cases rising like crazy all over again. I am definitely creeping!
Thank you, for gifting us with your prompts and mentor poems as well as the resources. I have The Poet Slave of Cuba and (whispering) haven’t read it. (shhhh) I hate that about me as a reader who buys and collects books that are “must reads” and I delay. Oh well.
Hugs!
Stacey—the clanking chains and recorded calls were chilling. 30 years. So much time lost…
Girl, get the audiobooks from the library! They’ll be great on your neighborhood walks!
It took the pandemic to force me to be able to focus on audiobooks. I’ll admit, I even have some there that I haven’t finished. Auditory focus is hard but I’m developing those skills. At least now I can enjoy podcasts. ??
I love the challenge of this prompt, Mo. Your poem got me thinking about how I’m really feeling these days. I realized that this living in uncertainty has become the new normal for me.
The New Normal
By Nancy White
All the unknowns make me feel sad
There is so much we don’t understand
I’m unbalanced, on shifting sand
I think of normalcy once had
Feels like the whole world has gone mad
I go out with trepidation
Have you had your vaccination?
Climate change and monsoonal heat
Temperatures rise, floods in the street
God help the new generation
Nancy, that shifting sand is a perfect descriptor. I can relate to your feelings of trepidation, too. Like you, I wonder what this means for the new generation. At church this morning I watched older people hug, shake hands, touch each other in greetings, but I noticed the younger people are much more careful, preferring to nod or wave. It really made me think about the long-term effects the pandemic will have on the young people.
I, too, feel “I’m unbalanced, on shifting sand” – such a great line. It feels like such a scary time for our world.
Oh, Nancy — I am walking in your shoes today. You have captures exactly the feelings that I have…this is so NOT NORMAL…heaven help us that this should every be normal. I feel that “shifting sand” under my feet, and I loathe that sensation of imbalance. What a meaningful, rich poem! Thank you for knowing what I was feeling…you are not alone, my friend! Susie
It’s good to know I’m not alone. Thanks, Susie. ?
Nancy, you’ve captured so many fears in your poem, and the end of your poem is particularly striking and profound. I agree “There is so much we don’t understand and I can relate to feeling imbalanced. Incredibly powerful poem!
Nancy, this is well said and I can identify with very line. The last one is my prayer “God help the new generation.”
Nany, my what a powerful prayer of lament. Did you read Katrina’s poem today? We could make a nice collection with this poem, Katrina’s and Mo’s. Well done!
Nancy,
How have I never made the comparison of this pandemic world to that of “shifting sand”? It is perfection!
ABBAACCDDC
Thank you, Mo, for this nudge to learn more about what is happening in Cuba. I decided that I would write a found Decima — language from news and protestors.
Cuba is suffering, fed-up–
not fed. Dire shortages protests.
Slogan on spin patria distressed.
Sing communists’ song to shake up
gente: Patria y Vida!
Voices demanding change: No more
food sold in U.$. cash. No more
electrical blackouts. They chant
access to vaccines. Breathe. They can’t
see through tear gas but their march roars!
I love where you’ve taken this prompt, Sarah! Margarita Engle is passionate about her Cuban roots and Cuban politics. Your found poem perfectly captures so much of what is going on there. I was lucky enough to visit Cuba shortly after Castro’s death. Aside from the natural beauty, I was captivated by the beautiful, kind, and intelligent people we met on the trip. I would love to revisit this magical island in more peaceful times.
What an incredible use of the poetry form! You have provided real insight about the current issues in Cuba. I am really struck by the juxtaposition of “fed-up” and “not fed” – so dire, indeed. Really horrible situation. Thank you, this is thought-provoking.
Wow, Sarah — The power of these lines is palpable. Cuba is a scary mess…but REAL people live there and REAL people “chant” and “roar.” I loved your roar today! Hallelujah to conscience and caring and empathy. You’re the best. Susie
What an impactful way to embrace the Decima. I admit, I haven’t heard much about Cuba lately (honestly, avoiding news but maybe the news is avoiding Cuba?). I appreciate your bringing me up to date here. I feel as if the whole world is on the edge.
Sarah, wow, you’ve captured such a visceral description of Cuba’s suffering. The ending of your poem is a powerful punch. I love how you set the word “Breathe.” all by itself. Doesn’t every human deserve this ability! The active power of the march and its roar radiates off the page! Magnificent poem!
Sarah, what a beautiful place you took the prompt today. The decima was a great form for your found poem. I especially like the use of enjambment in those last lines. It really emphasizes “they can’t” Wow. Thanks for inspiring more learning for your readers.
Sarah,
Your decision to tie in the decima origin of protest with the situation in Cuba is so inspired.
”Slogan on spin” is a snippet of your line that resonated with me. So often with news, especially due to social media, people only get a snippet of the reality. A sound byte that is out of context and spun the way news outlets want.
I’ve always thought that poetry
(available to everyone
not just stuffy scholars of Donne)
should soar free as a bumble bee
not trapped in tomes of pedigree.
You see, it is for the masses.
Poetry’s humanity’s biz
kept for just a few will perhaps
complete a colony collapse
led by scholarly jackasses.
#burn on those scholarly jackasses! I love the tone and rhythm of your poem. I think you should read this to your students when you introduce poetry to them. They might want to respond in poem form with why they don’t like poetry (I know many of my students would!). Well done.
I love the idea that poetry “should soar free as a bumblee,” and that you had bumble bee rhyme with pedigree…really a lovely contrast – the ordinary with the stuffy, pompous. Fun to end a poem with “scholarly jackasses” – so perfect!
Scott — What a grand testimony you have here. I’m laughing that you did it all in the decima form… no small feat! I loved “tomes of pedigree” and the whole message that poetry is “humanity’s biz.” You bet! Love it! Susie
Nice bee metaphor. I’ve been watching this bee rescuer on TikTok – so fascinating! So I loved being able to visualize the colony and the threat of collapse was vivid for me. I hate it when my students complain that they learned “nothing” in a course. I always think there has to be SOME redeeming value to what they are presented, even if not immediately, then in the long run. That said, I can’t recall ANYTHING I ‘learned’ from my 18th Century Poetry graduate course! Donne – and others – completely escaped me. Was it the poetry? The “stuffy scholar” approach? Not sure now – but I think today I’ll go back and see if reading some that poetry might resonate differently some few decades later!
Scott,
Thanks for giving me the poem I will use to begin my middle school poetry unit this school year! Your point is exactly the one I try make with them about poems. You nailed it!
Well played! I’m in awe of poets like you who can make rhyme seem so effortless.
This form presents me with quite a challenge. I think I will revisit later when my mind is clearer, but I didn’t want to miss out on adding a poem today, so here is my quick effort:
Pages
My heart and brain need what books give
settings and characters and plots
offer many feelings and thoughts
that help to guide me how to live.
I often learn how to forgive
and how to relate to others
From sisters to neighbors to mothers
how history affects each choice
and gives or suppresses voice
leading us to live as brothers.
Susan, I love that you just had to write today, no mater what. I’m glad that EthicalELA provides us the space to just do us! I think you are selling yourself a little short today, though. This is great. Wouldn’t this be a wonderful way to introduce yourself to a class at the start of the school year?
“I often learn how to forgive” – what a beautiful reason for books!
Susan, I love how you’ve captured the ability of books to transcend a person’s experience and perspective. The magical power of books is amazing, and you’ve captured that so well in your poem!
Susan, this was a challenge, wasn’t it? I love what you have done and the title too. “Pages” can transform us. We don’t even need the whole book. So true what you say. I loved these particularly:
Susan,
Decades ago, wrote my English thesis about how fictional literature can teach all the things we need in life. You get it! Reading your poem, I found myself singing it. To me it reads like a long lasting ballad written in the sixties that can stand the test of time.
Wowza, Mo, like I said earlier. You are great at challenging us with high expectations! Thanks for the challenge.
I wrote about my brother-in-law Ken, who was still in college playing baseball and dating my sister when my father died. Though my father was not really involved in my life, his death was a blow to a family with seven kids, five of them still at home. Ken really impacted my life. (P.S. I see that error in line 10, where I am flashing my poetic license to not end that line with man, or another C rhyme.)
Superlative Supporter
Would I have ever played the game?
What should I do after Dad’s death?
Wait for adults to take a breath…
And then: “Let’s play catch,” you exclaimed.
My future brother, fanned the flame
My passion for softball began
Every game…you, my greatest fan
Ardent and padded cheers ensued
While the shells of the seeds you chewed
Piled, like pictures, at your feet
Pictures of playing in the street
Your eager “Yes, let’s!” on repeat.
Giving me the glove of your youth
Did not make me catch like Babe Ruth,
No matter what you said. Upbeat
always in your belief in me,
Credibly, not hyperbole
You were there to help save my life.
Softball, with its fun and good strife,
Has stayed my love and helped me see
Denise, this is a heartwarming tribute to Ken! I’m so glad he was there to shape and mold the Denise I know! That he gave you the glove of his youth says how earnest he was in his love of your family. He clearly stepped up to the plate in more ways than one in your father’s absence. I like the way you flash your poetic license in holding the pen of your poem. What is authentic poetry without the license to twist the form with purpose and intent? This is spectacular – I hope you will frame this and give it to Ken!
What a tribute to your brother-in-law! My favorite line is “Your eager “Yes, let’s!” on repeat.” I’d love to meet this guy.
This. Tears at the love and memory and your lovely imagery.
I love this tribute to Ken and his positive influence in your life. I had a brother-in-law much the same. This sparked happy memories for me—thank you!
What a beautiful tribute to such a thoughtful man. I’m always struck at the little moments and gestures that can mean so much to us. I wonder if Ken knew then what an impact he’d have on your life? I sure hope you share this poem with him.
Denise,
I so appreciate this recognition, this ode to Ken, a representation of people who step into our lives at pivotal moments. These lines:
These show the “way” people step in is so important. This credibility as a way of saving, and then the role of sport, of activity that invites the body to help heal the heart and mind. Love it.
Sarah
Amazing, Denise!! You even wrote two stanzas!! Your brother-in-law sounds like a real peach – a home run, hahaha Love the line “Giving me the glove of your youth” – really imparts generosity and caring. Very dear!
Denise,
It is so important to tell people what they mean to us while we still can. I hope you shared this with Ken. There could be no better gift ever given to him. Yet another amazing quality of poetry writing! What beautiful fate that brought him to you when you needed him most. How fascinating that a sport can literally save a life.
Thinking about the 1995 Million Man March in Washington, DC, I offer this poem.
Modeling Men of Peace
Men who show us what we can be
Mahatma, Martin, and Ali
Malcolm X, too, joins the crew.
Each man models what we should do.
Be nonviolent. Tough, but let’s try.
Just hold hands. Friends, we can do this.
Stride and float like a butterfly!
Let’s raise, but do not use our fists.
Model men who grow, learn, and change.
Together, now, let’s rearrange!
No need to fight to show our might!
I love this solidarity, Anna. Bringing together the “men who show us what we can be” is an inspiration. Yes, I hope we can rearrange and make the world better for all.
As always, you bring conviction and history to us. Thank you.
Anna, your rhyme patterns always wow me! It seems to come so naturally to you – where I often struggle and wish I had the Anna touch. Your last two lines echo clearly the message of persistence in peaceful change. I like the way you used line breaks – it’s captivating to me to see how we all saw different groupings – some all together, some with breaks of different configurations. Your 4,4,2,1 is a picture of becoming more unified! Love this!
Anna, thank you for your poem and history lesson. I’ve been watching the video. It’s been 25 years. Farrakhan could have been saying those words today. Thank you for thinking about the March and reminding us there is work to do today.
Love the shout out in “Stride and float like a butterfly!”
No need to fight to show our might!
This is a great line that can sit on its own, never mind inside the end of a great poem.
Kevin
Anna, This is a great poem. You should keep going and submit it. “Let’s rearrange!”
Anna — I really like the whole idea of this poem. “Men of Peace’ sometimes seem hard to come by, and you remind us to pay homage when we see these leaders. Hats off! Thank you! Susie
I love this tribute to these heroic men who fought for change. Thank you, Anna!
Anna, just answer me this, do you just speak in rhyme in real life? You always make rhyming poetry seem so easy. It doesn’t come naturally to me. What I really like is how you can get to the heart of the matter in so few rhyming words.
No, Mo! This group has brought that tendency out in me. 🙂 I do not recall rhyming much before I did the summer in the San Diego Area Writing Project where we were taught to “right with your students”. Once back in the classroom, I began writing while teaching poetic devices and patterning poems we were reading, I struggled.
But once I joined our Ethical ELA group and so many of you asked for rhymes, I begin using them more often. Now, you all expect it and I’m a “friend-pleaser”. So, I rhyme when I can. 🙂
But, as many have said, the message is key, so I try not to allow rhyme to take over. You, here, evoke and inspire us to not just think about ourselves, but our world. So, I try to rhyme all the time because I want our world to work together like we work together here. Almost every word rhymes with some other word. So, I’ll admit, I do sometimes resort to the rhyming dictionaries on the web. The words don’t always just “come” to me in rhymes.
Anna,
I just knew you would nail this. You are so skilled at rhyme. But the message you share is even more important than the sound of this poem.
Anna, so many lines stand out in your writing here, but I especially love “Let’s raise, but do not use our fists” for the image it produces but also the strength. “Together, now, let’s rearrange” also strikes me as powerful.
I am so pleased by your topic!
There is such toxic masculinity in our world today. It impacts my daughters daily.
Notice the men you mentioned? They are from long ago. Who are the men from today?
”Model men who grow, learn, and change.” How can we collectively raise such men?
”Together, now, let’s rearrange!” Yep, it is a collective responsibility.
I will be sharing this poem with many people, Anna. Thank you for this gift.
Combining assignments: this prompt and this one from Isolation Journals
All summer the rain beat up on
the rose bush, pounded a rhythm
on the window in my kitchen.
All summer I’d wake after dawn
to find another blossom gone.
I wondered how you could trust me
to keep a thing alive, you see
it’s not about what’s green or brown
or even who is who in town.
All summer, rain, the rose, and me.
Margaret, your very own War of the Roses is fascinating! I trust you to keep the roses alive. Your simple words hint at a much bigger struggle. I’m sure glad you are watching over your little buds!
Mo, thanks for seeing that this is not just about roses. I love putting struggle into a nature metaphor. That way I can work it out without the personal reveal.
Margaret, I always wanted the green thumb of my grandmother and mother. I never got it. I have the blood of many plants on my hands and carry the guilt of their deaths in the serial plant killer that I am. Your poem brings me peace that I tried – I love those lines that it isn’t about what’s green or brown or even who is who in town. Thank you – I feel better having at least tried to nurture the flora!
Margaret, I love this “All summer” decima. These lines make me feel so sad:
That final line tells a story. You’re poem touches me today.
This opening is a great evocative use of language:
All summer the rain beat up on
the rose bush, pounded a rhythm
Margaret — The “isolation journals”…what an intriguing collection of moments that must be. Your imagery really works here…the rain
“pounded and rhythm”…that rose bush and you are both so strong in this…the union of “rain, the rose, and me” is a lovely idea. I really like this poem. Thank you. Susie
The sense of isolation and suspension of time are palpable, Margaret. Your poem is both airy and poignant, framed by the delicate beauty of roses and melancholy gray of rain. Trust pierces right through it all.
Margaret, this poem struck me in a special way. So often we think we’re in charge, but there are so many things we just can’t control. In my area, it’s the deer, wild turkeys, and geese who eat up our blossoms. That’s who’s in town here. I have to be reminded the flowers are their food. I have to remember, they lived here, first. But, when I see them, I do shoo them away, anyway! But they come back, and I just smile. My grandmother did teach me to share. 🙂
Margaret…so sneaky and clever you are. An extended metaphor feels so good, doesn’t it? You can benefit from the catharsis of writing about fragile feelings without the risk. This is a gorgeous poem!
I love your nature metaphor, and that feeling of helplessness when things outside our sphere of influence work against our best intentions and efforts! (Dang you, COVID!!)
Mo, thank you so much for investing in us as writers- this form is loads of fun, and I also appreciate the book spotlights (and the one in your picture as well)! I love your simile of emerging from the pandemic like from a chrysalis – that’s powerful and so real! We have healing to do indeed, and our writing is a conduit to our emotional wellness.
A Dinghy Decima
calming lake winds whisper my name
my heart strings pull toward the shore
such beckoning I can’t ignore
(wild inner spirit all but tame)
when gypsy sirens lured, I came
blue flowered kayak- Hippie Soul
and picnic cooler for the shoal
a backward launch to self-propel
a tranquil paddle my day’s goal
as nature’s virtues I extol
Kim, I am such a rule follower that I didn’t even think to use white space to break up my poem like you did. That’s why you are a poetry boss! Your hippiness came through yesterday and today- interesting! Those Gypsy sirens sound amazing. Your last stanza is fabulous. Side note- my son just ordered 2 kayaks for our lake house. Can’t wait to try them!
Kim, I am pulled toward childhood days of late (they “whisper my name”), much like your heart strings pull you to shore. So your words of gypsy sirens and Hippie Soul and blue flowered kayaks evoke fondness and whimsy and beckon towards that tranquility you have in goal. Thank you for these peaceful moments, for remembering, for recognizing.
Kim, you are writing a collection this weekend. This is a lovely pairing with the poem you wrote yesterday. It could be part of the gypsy collection. “when gypsy sirens lured, I came”
I love “calming lake winds whisper my name” for it makes me stand in that wind and enjoy the breeze in my imagination.
I have to comment about your title. I love the alliteration. When I google “dinghy” this definition came up, “is a lifeboat found on board of a ship in case of emergency” which I think is such a great metaphor for your “Hippie Soul” kayak, life saving your soul.
Kim, your words beckon as much as those calming lake winds…again your magic fingers weave enchantment and peace. The name of that blue kayak-!! You might enjoy knowing I am currently riding to the mountains listening to my husband’s radio – the Grateful Dead. Sail on, Hippie Soul <3
“Calming lake winds whisper my name”—that is exactly what they do! Love the peace adn calm you gave us today!
Kim,
I so appreciate this sense of place, this setting that you take us into to be part of the sirens lure and to self-propel alongside you.
Sarah
Kim,
”As nature’s virtues I extol” is a daily practice of mine! There is nothing as helpful to me to maintain my sanity. “When gypsy sirens lured” is exactly what it feels like when I am ready to burst and must get outside! It is so wonderful how connected humans can feel across the county with others they’ve never personally met simply through poems.
Mo, there’s a play with time to your decima today, reminding us that we are in both an advanced state and a primitive one. The “hear ye, hear ye” call hearkens back to days when plagues ravaged (wait, that’s now) – love that command to “go back to your lives” (a return to better times). Well done! And a challenging undertaking for today.
slow stitching
movements made methodically
a push and pull in finger dance
wool to linen, rhythm enchants
frayed and ragged, life’s tattery
becoming through embroidery
needle and thread slowly converse
in language blooms, they both immerse
fabric words found from threads once lost
unscattered from a stitchery toss
stories unfold in handspun verse
Jennifer, I’m in awe of the art in your writing. You dance and weave and twirl words so beautifully in this verse – I think this may be my favorite Jennifer Jowett poem I have ever read. You have such a gifted way with the words you use and how they are placed
rhythm enchants
language blooms
life’s tattery
handspun verse
you took the frayed ends and made something beautiful and meaningful – what a message for us all that our scars and frayed ends are our stories! I’m Speechlessly wowed!
Jennifer, how wonderful! Your rhymes are spot on. But your extended metaphor has brought your poem and your embroidery to life for me. I particularly love your last four lines. So we’ll done.
Amazing rhymes, Jennifer! Extraordinary phrasing all the way through – every word as carefully as a stitch. So beautiful.
Kim—which line is my favorite? The first—movements made mechanically?— the finger dance?—life’s tatters becoming through embroidery?—stories unfold in hand spun verse? I cannot choose! This reminded me of my great grandmother—she always had a piece of stitchers of some sort in her lap. So lovely.
Jennifer,
The beauty of your words are the perfect match to the beauty of this art form!
Mo,
Thank you so much for exposing us to this challenging form. I love learning new forms to structure my normally formless poems!
I was not able to get on at all yesterday, but I am in MUCH NEED of this space right now, so I went back and added my name poem to the discussion if anyone has the time/energy/willingness to revisit.
I love this part of your poem, Mo:
Mo—you set the standard so high that I practically gave up. Tried to produce something as thoughtful and flowing as yours. And I did not. So here it is—
Poetry Fail
I wanted to do this, really
I did. I thought and I prattled
Till my brain began to rattle
That metaphor, it seems to me,
sounds better than a simile.
In simile, with “as” or “like”
My brain goes on a hunger strike—
an empty crate-but wait! I see
a thought as lovely as a tree…
But that’s been done before—so trite.
And then there’s the plagiarism…
No poem here,
I fear
gjs 7/18/2021
Gayle, you have captured what I often feel as I begin to write. I love the humor here. And calling the brain an “empty crate” – genius. Resorting to an idea already found… And then “there’s the plagiarism.” There’s definitely a poem there (and in the decima!)
Gayle, you took a stab at something you thought was going to be a failure and even titled it that and then came out with a masterpiece! I love how you reference the famous tree poem as if it were an original idea and then showed us how the realization struck you – gosh, you just painted the moment of how I feel on those days – like when I set out shopping for a certain blouse and end up not finding the blouse but discovering a jam-up pair of shoes. I think you found the blouse AND the shoes today by giving it your own spin
at the end!
Gayle, you crack me up! You dominated the decima this morning! As for me, I channeled the rhyming skills of Anna J. Roseboro, as my go-to format is definitely free verse. Your crate and tree were masterful. I think you channeled Shel Silverstein in your poem!
Gayle! That is magical and fun and such a great, may I say, ars poetica poem. So glad you wrote it and shared it. The meter is great too. My favorite lines:
It’s really fun to read aloud.
Oh, Gayle! I love the irony of this poem. That in the failing a poem emerged. That in saying “no poem here” that you are calling up a poem that is “here” and that in the fear there are words that exist as evidence of what comes from “wanting to” and then deciding to… exhale a poem for us. Thank you.
Sarah
Gayle, I love the vulnerability of the poem and that it is a poem without knowing it is a poem. It even includes an elusive metaphor “an empty crate.”
Gayle, so funny! I laughed out loud at “And then there’s the plagiarism…” And though I don’t want to speak for the late Joyce Kilmer (but I think he’d agree), your poem is definitely as lovely as a tree.
Gayle,
Are you in my head? Wow! This poem captures where I still am in the process of composing this decima! You made me take a break from feeling overwhelmed enough to laugh about it. Maybe now I can post something. “My brain goes on a hunger strike” is not anything I have ever heard, yet it is exactly the experience! Love it!
Mo, I’ve never tried a decima and I am in awe of yours. Magnificent flow and word choices (“alchemic” for one) that so accurately depict our newly-transformed state of life and mind…this is a feat of a poem, in both form and message.
I’ve managed one stanza thus far. I can see myself adding to it later, perhaps… so here’s what’s foremost on my mind these days:
First Poem for My Granddaughter, Micah (Whose Name Means “Who is Like God”)
But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. -Matthew 6:33
Three things he said he’d never do:
marry, have a child, start preaching
like his dad, all the while reaching
out for what is solid and true.
God brought your mother. And now you,
beloved one, coming this fall.
Blessing and fruition of all
my boy always longed for, despite
his fears. Now with tears of delight
he embraces his Father-call.
… all the while reaching
out for what is solid and true …
Love how resonant those lines are here …
Kevin
Fran, how is it that we seem to do what we say we’ll never do? There’s such gentleness and care in the words “beloved one, coming this fall.” And what a beautiful phrase is “Father-call.” We tend to name the call to motherhood without giving equal weight to the call to fatherhood. You honor that here.
Fran, I’m so happy for you and this new baby coming. Tuck away the poems you write for him. There will be more. I love all of this poem, how it moves back and forth from who your son thought he was to who he is and weaves in perfectly this new life, Micah. Such Joy!
Fran, thanks for the kind words about my poem. This was the first time I tried a decima, too. My experience was similar to yours. I wrote one stanza, wasn’t thrilled with it, then came back later to realize maybe I needed two stanzas. I like the ability to play with the form and write as much as it suits me, but it sure was a challenge!
your poem is hauntingly beautiful. I like that we don’t know who you are talking about at first. The last four lines are just lovely!
Fran, the way you refer back to yesterday’s name poems makes this especially touching today – the naming of a new grandchild and the tears of delight in the calling of the father, your son – all shaped lovingly into a decima!
“Blessing and fruition of all my boy always longed for” puts in perspective that he may have said he would never….but now he knows what is solid and true and has embraced it as his life’s calling! He’s married and having a little girl, and though I’m not sure if he’s preaching, the day I saw him singing and playing the piano, that was preaching through his gift of
music! I love this!
Dear Kim – the musician is my younger son, who does in fact have a worship ministry degree and also works at a funeral home. This poem’s about my firstborn – after having met the lovely young woman, finally accepting the call to the ministry and yes, becoming a pastor, he married, claimed his steppdaughter as his own, and is now expecting baby girl Micah in Oct. He wanted a Hebrew name – and this one is mighty! for who IS like God, in all these wondrous ways? <3
Fran, you have captured an amazing story in the restrictions of this form. Micah will be blessed to have this treasure, along with a whole collection of poems, I anticipate. These are my favorite lines, so well-stated with so few syllables…:
And I love “his Father-call”:
This is so beautiful, Fran. Be sure to save this for Micah. There is so much meaning and promise in her name. And so many answers of prayer are evident in your poem. ?
Fran, I admire writers who can express so much in so few lines like you have done here. Such talent! The circle of life is a wondrous thing. Enjoy this next phase with your son and Micah.
Mo, thank you for this prompt. I love the new-to-me form. The rhyme scheme–a bit off-kilter–is refreshing and sounds nice to the ear. And in your poem…Wow! you have some amazing rhymes working overtime there in this poem. They all sound so natural. You have given us another challenge today–but you are quite known in my poetry head for your challenging prompts (think of last summer’s ghazel, monotetra, rondeau…wow!) Thank you again. I will be off to think about this and hopefully write!
These lines are something I will definitely need to do…
Phew. Counting syllables and rhymes!
🙂
Kevin
Fingers Along The FenceLine
Run your fingers along the slats
to find old nails, rusted apart,
where loose boards run with weathered hearts
where Winter’s frost becomes Spring grass
Hold to them tight: remembered laughs
This fence contains a world, broken
yet solid, still; stories spoken
of time’s changes, with shifting ground
tossing baseballs, like words, around –
Each year moves in forward motion
Kevin, wow! You did count syllables and rhyme like a pro, and this so early in the morning. Love all the stories here in the old nails. Especially powerful for me is the following line. I can picture you holding the nail before you pull it out:
Thx
I have been working this summer on short vignettes of our yard .. containing the narrative focus within property lines, so the poem emerged from some of that thinking of our back fence (a topic I wrote about last week)
Kevin
Your imagery is glorious, Kevin – as always. Much to cherish, even in the rough, rickety brokenness…
Kevin, the texture of your poem grabs and grounds in the running of fingers, the loose boards and winter’s frost. Baseballs seem to evoke story (I’m thinking of all the times they appear in American lit) as yours does here. Beautifully done.
Kevin, where do you live that you can get up so early and write such a beautiful poem hours before I open my eyelids?!? Your poem is stunning. I love the idea of creating ideas about your yard. You’ve inspired me to think more about my own cozy yard. My favorite line is,”Hold to them tight: remembered laughs.”
Kevin, I like the way you broke your lines – 4, 1, 4, 1. I saw 4,3,3. Your use of wood here as part of the earth and passing of time gives me a reminder of the fleeting moments of life and to appreciate each second. Those words tossed around like baseballs – they can be home runs or broken windows. That’s a heavy hitter!
Kevin,
I appreciated sharing this human experience with you. The most unexpected things can trigger so much within us.