Welcome to Day 5 of the September Open Write. A big, big thank you to our hosts: Denise Kreb, Wendy Everard, and Susan Ahlbrand. You’ve taken such good care of our writing lives this month! To learn more about the Open Write, click here.

Susan Ahlbrand and her husband Jason are a month into being empty nesters.    Both teachers in the small southern Indiana town of Jasper, they often spend their weekends road tripping to visit one of their four kids in Kentucky, Tennessee, or Mississippi.  Their two daughters are in the working world, and their two sons are in college.  Susan has taught 8th grade English language arts for 35 years;  she reads and writes with her students daily, and she eagerly anticipates the five Open Write days each month and the entire month of April.

Inspiration

Do you remember?

Do you remember the 21st night of September?

Songs tap into our memories, our emotions, like few other things.  I was in 7th grade in 1978 when Earth, Wind & Fire released the now-epic song “September.”  I remember learning to do different dances to it while at a parent-hosted party at a local dance hall.  I remember loving it as my teenage crush’s birthday was in September;  it was a sign.   As I grew into adulthood, the song was a staple at parties and gatherings and weddings.  It always seems to bring joy into whatever space it reverberates.  

The meaning of that song took a weird turn when I was dancing to it in a kitchen (because who doesn’t dance in a kitchen) with some of my closest friends.  For the first time, 

I connected the specificity of the date in September (“Do you remember the 21st night of September?”) with the date my dear father passed away.  How on earth had I listened to that song for years since his death and never connected that?  The joy-bringer instantly took a turn.

The wine-laden dancing in the kitchen turned to tears as I was so mad at myself for not realizing the date in that song as being so monumental.

Process

You have a few options for your poem output for this prompt:

  1. Check out the lyrics to “September.”  Pick out a line (there are some good ones in the midst of a bunch of “bah-dee-ya”s.  Use it to inspire a poem.  Any form, any length, any mood, any topic.  Maybe something in the song facts below the lyrics inspires you.  Consider using the NONET form since September is the ninth month.
  2. Choose a date when significant took place.  Write about it.  Consider using the RONDEL form.
  3. Write about a time when something that once brought you joy took a turn and brought you sadness instead.  Consider writing a SESTINA (two stanzas would certainly be enough).
  4. Write three rhyme royals.  Rhyme Royals are seven-line stanzas that have the following rhyming sequence: ababbcc.   (3×7=21 . . . get it?).

Susan’s Poem

Your Turn

Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to 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.

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Lindsay R.

“Love was changing your mind”

Love did change my mind
September is a hard month
Love they say never fails
September fails
I feel the hope in the air
With all of it’s care

Jessica Wiley

Susan, I really like this prompt. I also love the formatting of your poem. My condolences on the loss of your father. I know we all deal with grief differently, and sometimes people block out sad memories and only hold on to the ones that bring them joy. I know I’ve done that before. It’s hard to want to remember, but really hard not to forget. My favorite phrases in your poem: “boozy bouncing” and “fingers pointed enthusiastically”. Thank you for sharing this. I can imagine all of this. I’m sad this is the final day, but as I squeak out what little creativity I have left, this beauty erupted. I wish I would’ve started sooner, but I do like what I produced. Here it is.

While chasing the clouds away…

Why do I plan to do so much?
I’m definitely not Superwoman 
or Supermom.
I do have a t-shirt that says “Wonder Mom”
and that makes me wonder why I became one.
A chauffeur, nurse, and referee, 
None of these jobs I signed up for.
Just put a book in my hand and cradle some snacks between my knees
as I read of backwoods true crime
or what trauma does to the body.
Just let me be
while chasing the clouds away.
5:00: I almost hear a plane whirring by.
5:09: an annoying ringing.
5:16: no, a blaring alarm.
5:27:Oh dang, time to put on my “Mother” hat another day.

Denise Hill

I love that line from the song, Jessica. Your turn of phrase on the Wonder Mom was brilliant. It had me think: Wonder Mom? with a question mark after it. So many ways to read and respond to that! Glad you can “carve out” some me time, as well as time to share with us here. Thank you!

Jessica Wiley

Thank you Denise, I really appreciate it!

Susan Ahlbrand

Oh, Jessica . . . motherhood is such a huge responsibility, such a huge change in our existence, and it so often leaves us feeling so overwhelmed. Little do we know the many roles that we will be assuming. You contrast those feelings so well in your poem with “while chasing the clouds away” from the song.
Thank you for adding this poem into the feed.

Jessica Wiley

Thank you for the insight Susan. I was overwhelmed at the moment, so your words are a reminder of how valuable I truly am. Thank you!

DeAnna C.

31st of October

A day that is full of many sweet treats
Receiving news that felt more like
The biggest trick of my life
Crying for three full days
Baby coming
Now you are
Biggest
Joy

Cara Fortey

DeAnna,
I love the play on trick or treat. Fun! Guessing this was J1. 😉

Jessica Wiley

DeAnna, perfect words for this month “The biggest trick of my life”, turned into the best and sweetest treat. I also like the length of your lines, decreasing as you get close to the end. “Biggest Joy” indeed!

Rachelle

DeAnna, what a clever use of language which played into the tone (and tone shifts!) throughout. I admire how the last line makes an even deeper connection to your life for those who know you. Clever!

Susan Ahlbrand

Oh, did I ever feel what you felt when I found out I was pregnant with our 4th. I found out on Mother’s Day . . . which has its own context, but your Halloween tops that! Your succinct lines work perfectly to reach the culminating line of JOY!

Emily Jones

This prompt reminded me of one of my best friends, who passed away in high school from leukemia, so I wanted to remember her today.

“Faith, hope, love, and Grace”- our battle cry
Fight evil with a smile, you said.
So skinny, pale, a shaved head
Cancer never plays fair
Fighting til the end
You smiled your last
And blessed us
With love,
Grace

Jessica Wiley

Emily, Cancer SUCKS!!! But this is a perfect way to honor one of your best friends. I love how you used “smile” throughout your poem. Such a terrible disease, and those who I’ve seen suffer, suffered with a smile because they found the “faith, hope, love…and Grace” in their battle. Thank you so much for sharing.

Denise Hill

Beautiful inclusion of Grace both at the entry and the exit. Fitting for the poem. Cancer is indiscriminate, and that is only one of the worst things about it. This is a loving tribute as well as memorial. Sweetly captured.

Lindsay R.

Emily, thank you for sharing your story. Cancer is awful and cruel disease, it takes away what we love but we must have hope. I like how you ended the poem with the word “grace”

Susan Ahlbrand

I really love this space. I eagerly await October. I hope my life allows for full and complete participation. I love reading your poems, I love learning from your comments, and I do love challenging myself to write poems according to these brilliant and diverse prompts. Thanks to all who took to the time to write today. It helped make “the 21st night of September” special and memorable. (and it helped ease the ache of missing my dad.)

Denise Krebs

Thank you, Susan, your poem was heartbreaking. The way you wrote it in two columns for the two different views of September 21, then the two became one. The title with the ending lines are perfect.

Cara Fortey

I love the nonet form, I will definitely be using that again! Thank you.

September is beginning once more
from the start with the fresh faces 
and learning new names again
but the thrill never ends.
Do you remember?
I love this job
this tough gig
fills my 
cup.

Rachelle

I love that each September is a fresh start not only for students, but for teachers as well. There is so much joy in the new year ❤️

Denise Krebs

I do remember those fresh starts each September. It is a tough gig, Cara, and I sometimes wonder at the dichotomy of how something so hard and draining really does fill us. Lovely poem!

DeAnna C.

Cara,

I have been struggling a bit this year with more changes, but so much is still the same. You poem reminded of what I got back with the changes. ?

Denise Krebs

Thank you, Susan, for the lovely prompts these last two days. I was busy all day today, so I’m just getting to the prompt. I am going to check out some of those many forms you shared. I was intrigued by Rhyme Royals, but I don’t have it in me tonight, the 21st of September. The date of the song (and I did enjoy listening to it twice today!) reminded me of the birth of my grandson this summer.

Remember the first day of summer?
Just two drove to the hospital 
Your dad stayed home with Covid
Breathe, push, rest, repeat. You
arrived, and you were
unconcerned by
viruses, 
Babe at
peace

Glenda M. Funk

Denise, I read your poem before reading your tag and knew immediately you were celebrating that adorable grandson. I feel your joy, my friend, and it makes me smile.

Denise Hill

Oh, Denise. I’m near tears reading this. All of us having been through what we’ve been through! And to remember the babies, the new lives, filled with so much hope and joy at such a dark time – but not dark to them, right?! I just felt my shoulders melt at the word peace. We have it at our cores, from our beginnings. It does exist. Beautiful.

Wendy Everard

Susan, thanks for this great prompt! Love your poem. Covid is kind of kicking my butt as we approach the end of this month’s open write, so I don’t have anything written today, but I look forward to using this prompt with my Creative Writers this semester, so thank you! ?

Susan Ahlbrand

Oh on, Wendy! I sure hope you kicks its butt back . . . quickly!

Glenda M. Funk

Wendy, I’m sorry to learn you have covid. Do take extra care of yourself. ? for a speedy recovery.

Mo Daley

Today
By Mo Daley 9/21/22

The dogs alerted me to their personal needs
at 12:15 and 4:35, so I had to set my own needs aside.
Up before the sun,
Why did I still have to hustle out the door
to get the garbage out and get to work on time?

Frazzled, I was about to enter the
Driving to Work without a Thought in My Brain zone
when I looked up and saw
the cumulous clouds
brimmed by the rising sun
leading my eyes to the V-shaped clouds
that reminded me of the floppy birds I drew as a child,
which led my eyes to the forest preserve
where a doe walked with her fall fawns,

which made me smile
and think
today is going to be a good day!

Kim Johnson

Mo, what a perfect normal morning thought stream to share to show us how the CHOICE to have a good day – – – is everything! Those fall fawns are here, too, and they bring such a smile, such moments of peace and beauty.

gayle sands

Mo—a perfect answer to a frazzled world. I followed your thoughts and your eyes…

Susan Ahlbrand

Mo,
Thanks for taking us on the journey of your morning! I love how you landed on it being a good day. I need to find a way to have that mindset more regularly.
I love these lines:

the cumulous clouds

brimmed by the rising sun

Denise Krebs

Mo, what a great day to have thoughts like you had. I hope you sleep well tonight! “fall fawns” is a darling way to say what you saw.

Stacey Joy

Ohhhh, how I hope you had a great day! You deserve it. I love how you took me on a ride with you in this poem. I felt the urgency of hustling out the door and the peace of…

where a doe walked with her fall fawns,

which made me smile

Gorgeous!

Rachelle

Thank you for another great prompt! I decided to reflect on my relationship with my youngest sister.

When you were born, I was almost 6. 
I can recall your milestones: 
First steps and potty training 
(And bottomless giggles).
Do you remember 
your toothless smile 
when you saw 
your big 
sis? 

Mo Daley

This is so sweet, Rachelle! I’m the youngest of 9. NOw you have me wondering what they remember about me as a young child.

Kim Johnson

Rachelle, what a sweet, sweet poem for your sister. I think this would be perfect with a then and now picture, framed. Such beauty in words here.

Susan Ahlbrand

Wouldn’t it be nice if the youngers remember us as well as we remember them? Your words sure made me take pause and wonder. Well-done, Rachelle!

Denise Krebs

Rachelle,
Sweet poem. I love that you can recall the milestones, especially the bottomless giggles. Precious!

Cara Fortey

Rachelle,
I love this! It almost made me want to write about the first time my oldest son saw his little brother, but I couldn’t do it as well as you.

DeAnna C.

Rachelle,

What a sweet poem.
I was about six when my little brother was born. So many special memories in the little time we had together.

Stacey Joy

Womanly Woes

I will never forget
September 7, 1977
two months shy of my 14th birthday 
burnt sienna colored splotches
tainted my underwear
and alas I shouted, “I am a woman!”

My mother rushed to the bathroom in a panic
because of how loud I screamed,
”I am finally a woman like everyone else!”
She opened the door in disbelief
more about my excitement
less about my “visitor”
then she handed me “the box.”

I carefully peeled back the sticky strip
of my first Kotex maxi pad 
I had no idea it would feel
like a twin-sized mattress 
between my lean little legs.

All I wanted when I was thirteen 
was to have a period and 
to be a 36-24-36 Brick House
like all my best friends 
It would only be a matter of months
before I learned that a period 
was the worst part of being 
a woman. 

© Stacey L. Joy, September 21, 2022

Rachelle

Stacey, what a poem! It brought back memories of my own experience. I wasn’t excited, however, I remember crying as I told my mom (who consoled me).

The “twin sized mattress” simile especially feels relatable. Thank you!

Mo Daley

What a memory! The box! That Brick House reference had me humming right away.

Kim Johnson

OH MY GOSH, Stacey, this is better than Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret! You had me laughing, hearing you yelling in the bathroom

burnt sienna colored splotches
tainted my underwear
and alas I shouted, “I am a woman!”

Hooray for womanhood – we are strong! And the Good Lord knew when created He both male and female which one could handle the pain!

High five, my woman friend!

gayle sands

Stacey— what a picture of life! I, too was a late bloomer. Little did I know how lucky I was!

Susan Ahlbrand

This is magic, Stacey! I think I’m going to sit down right now and write about my first period. You include so many key details it makes me want to copy you! Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, right?
And these golden lines:

like a twin-sized mattress 

between my lean little legs.

Magic.

Glenda M. Funk

Stacey! LOL at these lines:

I had no idea it would feel
like a twin-sized mattress 
between my lean little legs.”

OMG, you are so lucky you didn’t have to use the pads that needed a belt and clips you had to thread straps through. Then you had to pull that mess up like a pair of undies! And how do you remember the exact day? I was at school, and horror of horrors—my grandmother had to come get me and explain all the things! ? I love that we can write about EVERYTHING here! ? ?

Stacey Joy

LOL the only reason I remember the exact day is because I prayed for it for about 2 years! My bestie got her period 2 years before I did right along with her Brick House body! I had a lot to pray for and only got the period!

Tammi Belko

Thank you for all the wonderful poetry inspiration this week. Sorry I wasn’t able to participate fully this month. I look forward to coming back to these wonderful prompts soon.

Memories of Saturday Mornings
by Tamara Belko 

Daybreak on a Saturday morn
in October
in November
in December

Daybreak on a Saturday morn
in February
in March

The exact dates
I don’t recall 
Though the warm feelings of predawn treks
stick like confection to my soul 

In those dawning journeys across the state we were
caffeinated-up enough, 
smoothied-up enough 

to bob our heads
to your wake-me-up playlist
but not awake enough for true conversation

That was okay with me
You needed to settle into the right headspace 
to tumble 
to dance across the springy mat
into the right headspace to backflip on a 3.9 (not 4) inch beam
into the right headspace to launch yourself through the air 
stretching to grasp another chalked bar 

I always held my breath
crossed my fingers
crossed my toes

You needed to imagine success
in order to make it so.

I was content with those quiet mother-daughter moments
knowing after a long meet 
on our journey home
conversation and full throated singing would fill the space

in the twilight on a Saturday
in October,
in November,
in December
in the twilight on a Saturday
in February and March

Rachelle

The imagery that bookends the poem is simply stunning, and the tumbling diction plays an important part in emphasizing this connection between mother and daughter. Thanks for sharing this with us!

Susan Ahlbrand

Buy a frame today, Tammi, and put this beauty in it! You capture the times but also the emotions of these journeys with your daughter. I absolutely love it. I especially appreciate how you knew you couldn’t name one day or time or month because it was such a regular happening.
My absolute favorite line:

but not awake enough for true conversation

Been there, done that . . . but it was tennis matches and soccer games.

Denise Hill

Agree with Susan! Such a lovely narrative that encapsulates so much of this life and relationship. I wasn’t sure where it was going when it started, and was surprised by how it unfolded. I only know dark mornings, so that resonated with me. And it brought back memories of my dad (now passed) when he would drive me to or from college breaks, a two+ hour drive. We spent a lot of that time in a comfortable silence, and they really are some of the fondest memories I have with him. That and sitting silently in a boat fishing. There don’t have to be words to connect us with others. Silence is just as bonding. Thank you, Tammi.

Maureen Y Ingram

Susan, Wendy, and Denise, thank you for the great inspirations this five-day Open Write! It has really been wonderful to be back in this space.

Katie K

The 27 of September

The day before was always mine
11 years before you
You changed our worlds
In the best way possible
Upended our “normal” lifestyle
But we could never imagine it without you
A new brother, a new outlook on life
You will forever be our menace
And we wouldn’t change it for the world

Linda Mitchell

Love this! “change” balanced by “best.” “Wouldn’t change it for the world.” I hope you deliver this message to this lovable menace.

Maureen Y Ingram

Love that line, “You will forever be our menace” – I can hear the affection!

Tammi Belko

Katie —

I can relate to this from the perspective of my two older children. When their little sister arrive their world was truly “Upended.” But like you they feel in love with their sibling. Beautiful poem.

Scott M

Katie, I so enjoyed the warmth in this! The “menace” tempered with “in the best way possible,” “we could never imagine it without you,” “And we wouldn’t change it for the world” definitely illustrate your love. Thanks for writing and sharing this!

Susan Ahlbrand

What is normal anyway, Katie?!
I agree with Linda that the “menace” needs to receive this poem.

DeAnna C.

Awe, what a sweet tribute to your younger brother

Lindsay R.

Katie, your poem was very inspiring and I liked how it seemed to be telling a story. It seems to have a lot of affection written in it. Thank you for sharing!

Juliette

September- Many years ago

Belongings in two mismatched boxes
This wide-eyed eleven year old 
Dropped off at school, innocent
and green, so immature
Left to glean the world
Leaving home for
the first time
feelings
wild!

Boxer

very Creative! Love the wild , green and adventure in your work!!

Erica J

I love the detail of the two mismatched boxes! I also think it’s neat that as the child is leaving, the poem is growing smaller — almost like it’s also leaving.

Maureen Y Ingram

There is something about this descending order of syllables that amplifies the ‘overwhelm’ an eleven-year old must feel, “Leaving home for/the first time…” So great!

Tammi Belko

I agree. This poem really works well as a nonet. Ending with the word “wild” leaves me feeling excited and apprehensive all at once.

Susan Ahlbrand

I love when others’ comments help me grow not only as a writer but as a see-er of poems. I learn so dang much in this sacred space.
You sure found a way to make this scene sooo descriptive and picturable (is that a word) with so few words.
Thank you for adding your work to this space!

Seana Wright

I Remember…..

August 28th
Jazz music hovers in the air
lovers of the genre are absorbing
the melodic sounds
I’m with my church friends
celebrating my husband’s birthday
enjoying the famous
Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles
An adult beverage is in my hand
I’m looking oh so cute
with a curly hair-do

The highlight of the evening features a tribute
to Grover Washington, Jr. and there’s a
Jazz Quartet playing his hits
My head is bobbin’, my fingers are snappin’
my toes are tappin’
that evening was spectacular,
lovely and unforgettable

When I was younger and first
heard Grover
I was mesmerized by his music
My dad brought home his albums
and played them along with
other smooth jazz artists
repeatedly on weekends
I fell in love with the saxophone, bebop music,
and dancing in the living room with my parents
Those were some of the last days of
family time before the divorce.

Seana Hurd Wright written 9/21/2022

Glenda M. Funk

Seana,
The Hollywood Bowl eve i g sounds sublime. Then you hit us w/ the “last days until the divorce”revelation and the sublime takes on an air of melancholy. Still, I’m gonna need to listen to some Grover Washington, Jr. tunes now.

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Seana, having fond memories can help neutralize tough ones. Your poem captures that and saving and reading when you’re down will do the same over and over again. Thanks, too, for evoking memories of outdoor music events. They are special to many of us.

Maureen Y Ingram

Your “love with the saxophone, bebop music” has been there all your life, in good times and sad times. The evening at the Hollywood Bowl sounded incredible. I love the musicality of these lines –
My head is bobbin’, my fingers are snappin’
my toes are tappin’

Tammi Belko

Seana,
I love this image:
“My head is bobbin’, my fingers are snappin’
my toes are tappin’ ”
Beautiful memories!

Susan Ahlbrand

Oh goodness, Seana . . . I didn’t expect that last line. What a gut punch!

On a lighter note, I’m glad that you were feeling confident:

I’m looking oh so cute

with a curly hair-do

Love this!

Sarah

Sorry to break the flow of poetry, but intruding here to invite each of you to write a blog post for Writers Who Care; it is a peer-reviewed blog, and they’d love to hear about the impact of writing poetry on your teaching, how you teach writing, what you are noticing in your classroom about writers, and how you are preparing for the National Day on Writing, October 20th. This is also a blog for parents, so if you want to write about your children as writers or the identity of a parent writer — all that is welcome. Short pieces, like 1000 words. https://writerswhocare.wordpress.com/authors/submission-guidelines/

gayle sands

I’m not crying–you’re crying.  Your poem, your memories, the song, your prompt. When I saw the title, my mind went to a different title–“Try to Remember ” is a song about nostalgia from the musical comedy play The Fantasticks (1960). It is the first song performed in the show, encouraging the audience to imagine what the sparse set suggests. The words were written by Tom Jones while Harvey Schmidt composed the music. https://youtu.be/LUZpjW7QHGo

September–  I Try to Remember

Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh, so mellow
Does that September exist today? Or 
did that kind of September 
exist only in our faded memory?

Try to remember the kind of September
When love was an ember about to billow.
Yes–I can remember
when all was ahead of me– 
unknowable 
and full of possibility.

Deep in December, it’s nice to remember
Although you know the snow will follow
But the glow of September’s 
ember fades with time, 
with reality, by accident.
The world intrudes.
The flakes of living accumulate, 
shrouding September’s glow

Deep in December, it’s nice to remember
The fire of September that made us mellow
Deep in December, our hearts should remember
And follow, follow, follow

So, today, I will follow– 
resurrect the glow, 
the anticipation, 
the hope that was me–
for my children 
and my grandchild.
So they, too, can look back
 
and follow, follow, follow.

GJSands 9-21-22

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Lovely, Gayle to follow you through the emotive memories of the months. You’ve put to words what many of us feel or felt when school first started in September. By the time I left full-time classroom teacher in California, our school year began in August. That now is true for many of the schools in the county where I now live in Michigan.

My favorite lines are

Deep in December, it’s nice to remember
The fire of September that made us mellow

Maureen Y Ingram

This is beautiful, Gayle! I love how the lyrics flow so perfectly…I adore the lines about today, that you will

resurrect the glow, 

the anticipation, 

the hope that was me–

How important this is for our world, I think, for us to hold hope.

Tammi Belko

This stanza really resonated with me. The world and life in general really does have a way of shrouding September’s glow. It is sometime hard to see the beauty in the world when we get bogged down in life. I love the hopeful ending of this poem.

“But the glow of September’s 
ember fades with time, 
with reality, by accident.
The world intrudes.
The flakes of living accumulate, 
shrouding September’s glow”

Scott M

Gayle, thank you for that link. I remember seeing The Fantasticks years ago so I remembered snatches of the song, but it was nice to hear this tender and melancholy version from The Brothers Four. Your poem worked perfectly intertwined with the song’s lyrics (and I really loved reading it again with the song playing in the background!). My favorite moment of yours is in your third stanza: “But the glow of September’s / ember fades with time, / with reality, by accident. / The world intrudes. / The flakes of living accumulate, / shrouding September’s glow.” Beautiful!

Susan Ahlbrand

So this song is definitely in my head now! I haven’t heard it in ages, but did remember liking it in the past. What you do with its lyrics and your own words is lovely . . . of course. It’s Gayle!

These last lines hit me in the feels:

So, today, I will follow– 

resurrect the glow, 

the anticipation, 

the hope that was me–

for my children 

and my grandchild.

So they, too, can look back

 

and follow, follow, follow.

Jennifer Kowaczek

This is NO April Fools!

Away at college and my mom calls,
her voice sounds serious, I sit.
“We had a fire last night.
This is no April fools.”
My sister’s voice shakes
I know it’s true
Bedroom fire
Family
Safe.

— Jennifer Kowaczek September 2022

I chose to focus on a date. My sister left a candle unattended on her dresser when she went to grab a drink from the kitchen. She started talking with our parents, forgetting all about the candle. That happened on March 31, 1992. My mom called to tell me on April 1st. I didn’t believe her … not until she put my sister on the phone. She was devastated (I could hear it in her voice) and worried about my stuff. I was a sophomore in college — all the things that mattered most to me were with me, and my family was all safe.

Susan, thank you for this prompt. Your poem made me think of losing my own dad. I was stuck, couldn’t focus on reading anything. My dad was a big reader so I tried reading some of his favorite authors and that didn’t work. So, I turned to Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. I was 46 when my dad died and it was Harry Potter that got me reading again — I turned to that book because of the familiarity I had, if I zoned out a bit no worries because I knew the story so well. What I didn’t expect was for the story to feel so different! I connected with Harry in a new way, as someone who lost a parent. The entire book took on a new meaning for me, I had empathy for Harry that wasn’t there in my previous readings of the series.

Susan O

Wow, Jennifer! What a thing to have happen. Your have described the trauma well with the shaking of your sister’s voice. So glad you were all safe.

Maureen Y Ingram

Oh my. What a horrible phone call to receive. I am so happy that everyone was safe. That is an awesome last line: Safe.

Tammi Belko

Jennifer — “My sister’s voice shakes
I know it’s true”
These two lines really convey that feeling of fear.
I’m glad everyone was safe.

Susan Ahlbrand

Jennifer,
You tell a HUGE story in so few words and you do so very effectively! I can imagine how hard that event was on all of you. With you being away at college, I’m sure it was hard to not be there.
I’m so glad your dad brought you back to reading. Interestingly . . . I just finished Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone last week. Yep, I’ve taught middle school ELA for thirty five years and have never read the beloved series. I tried to start it a few times and it’s just not my preferred genre. Kids knew for years that I hadn’t read it and they harrassed me and tried to bargain with me to do so. This year I have a girl who is bright beyond bright and I made a deal with her to keep her engaged. I told her if she held up her end of the bargain, I’d read it. She’s so proud to be the one who got me to read it. I look forward to reading the remaining books (at some point) and locking in a little more on Harry having lost his parents. That connect will draw me to him more now, thanks to you!.

gayle sands

Jennifer—a powerful poem, and some equally powerful prose. Books really are such an escape, different every time we read them.

Maureen Y Ingram

21st Day of September, 2022

let’s take a stroller walk together
see the gifts mother nature brings
while chasin’ the clouds away
find acorns on the ground
soft breeze through our hair
we are smiling
love is here
to stay
hey!

hey!
singing
ba-dee-ya
dee-ya dee-ya
do you remember?
such a glorious day!
tinkering with tree treasures 
pausing looking touching smelling
holdin’ hands with your heart to see you

Glenda M. Funk

Maureen,
This is a lovely poem. The “tree treasures” image makes me want to walk in the woods. You chose the perfect form, too. It gives the sense of a path.

Christine Baldiga

Maureen, I love the double nonet and how you wove the words to the song in seemingly effortlessly. My heart sings imaging this poem play out

Katie K

Maureen, excellent piece. I love how you took us through each of the 5 senses and brought me into your image.

Tammi Belko

Maureen — Love the carefree feelings conveyed in these lines:

“while chasin’ the clouds away
find acorns on the ground
soft breeze through our hair
we are smiling
love is here
to stay”

Your poem feels like love!

Susan Ahlbrand

Maureen!! Two nonets mirroring each other . . . well done!
I love how you incorporate lines from the song, though I didn’t realize you were until the “ba-dee-ya” gave you away. They work in so smoothly that it really works.
Bravo, Maureen! Thanks for taking the time to add your ideas to this space!

Denise Krebs

Maureen, what fun! I could sing along with this version of the EW&F song. “Such a glorious day” indeed with your little ones.

Scott M

Do You Remember?

No.

(Ok, so, real talk for a moment,
no equivocation, no clever poetic
tricks, no this-is-not-really-me
[I don’t mean to poetsplain to you
the “function” of “the speaker”
of a poem] I need you to know
This. Is. Me.
and I’m trying to explain that
I am terrible with names
and dates.

For example, I don’t remember
the date we first went to that
sushi restaurant in college, the
one with the koi fish as big as
small poodles, the ones that 
actually made us laugh out loud,
exclaim at their size, but I do
remember struggling with you
to put the new steering wheel
cover on the Jeep, the blue
suede, soft to the touch: I 
remember this like it was
yesterday 
because it was actually
yesterday.

So, no, I don’t have the
sushi-date memorized, but I do
still have the fortune
cut on the little slip of paper
with its lucky numbers and
the message “Keep your
plans secret for now” which
I have tacked up on the wall
of my classroom.  I point
to it whenever an administrator
wants to see my lesson
plans – that’s not really
true, but, I wish it were,

and I’m not unapologetic
whenever I miss a date,
I’m totally apologetic,
wholly apologetic,
but I just can’t seem
to make them stick.

They’re written down
for sure, and I can
look them up,

but at a moment’s
notice, I’d have to say
no to your question.)

No. I don’t happen
to remember the exact
date,

and,

oh, I’d just 
like to say,
in passing, 
that I accidentally 
broke that coffee mug 
you like using so much.  
There was a 
washing
mishap 
last night.

Sorry.

_____________________________

Susan, thank you for another engaging prompt!  Your mentor poem and your “inspiration” section tugged at my heart strings.  Life does this to us sometimes, doesn’t it?  I’ve found that I need (have ?) to reevaluate “things” as I go through life.

Jennifer Kowaczek

Scott, this is brilliant! I love how you took the theme of this prompt and turned it on its head.
Thank you!

Maureen Y Ingram

I think your memory for dates is similar to mine, hahaha. I love this! There is so much magic in what you are remembering, such as –

but I do

still have the fortune

cut on the little slip of paper

That is so dear.

Tammi Belko

Scott — Love the vivid images of “koi fish as big as small poodles” and you message  “Keep your plans secret for now” had me laughing out loud. Sure do wish we could all do that! Thanks for your fun take on this prompt.

Susan Ahlbrand

Another Scott gem!!
The clever way you pull back the curtain and proclaim to be you rather than the speaker made me chuckle. While your poems almost always make me laugh, they also always leave me scratching my head a little because there is typically (or seems to be) such depth to your words.
I love that you used the “Do you remember” title and ran with it as is. I love the whole poem but I loved this image:

the koi fish as big as

small poodles

Emily Jones

Scott, this is a beautiful way to capture how people can have such different love languages, and that’s ok! I like the way you portray the comfortability of a relationship that has stood the test of time.

Glenda M. Funk

Susan, I love the Earth, Wind, and Fire song “September.” I think it’s possible to embrace conflicting emotions and hope you’ll once again find joy in the song. This prompt gives me much to consider in this eventful month, one of my favorites. I appreciate the form suggestions.

September Rondel 

Thirty days in the ninth month, y’all
Life and death seasons intertwine
Cool evenings, warm days feel sublime
Farm harvest brings bountiful haul

Day eleven twin towers fall
First marriage month day twelve consign
Thirty days in the ninth month, y’all.
Life and death seasons intertwine.

On twenty-seven dad’s death recall 
Birthday for hubs day twenty-nine
Stars and planets in sky align.
Leaf peeping season all enthrall
Thirty days in the ninth month, y’all.

Glenda Funk
September 21, 2022

Maureen Y Ingram

September holds a great deal for you, Glenda, my goodness! Your husband’s birthday is coming up…the anniversary of your father’s death…the sad and the beautiful together. I got an eerie chill from the repetition of “Life and death seasons intertwine” – and, yet, wow, that is really what is happening in September, isn’t it? Just look at nature this time of year… I love the familiarity, the friendliness of y’all – such a great line, “Thirty days in the ninth month, y’all.”

Susan Ahlbrand

September might be my favorite month. That’s why it was a tough one to lose our dad. It tainted it.
I did play Earth, Wind & Fire on my way to yoga this evening and I was able to jam to it. I’m getting to the point of being able to feel joy again. I did for so long, so I’m glad it’s returning.
How did you pull of this rondel in such a short time, Glenda? You are such a talent!
I absolutely love this repeated line:

Life and death seasons intertwine.

Glenda M. Funk

Hi Susan,
Ivspent a lot of time in the car today, which gave me a chance to write the poem. I didn’t approach it in a linear way. I write the *A* repeating line first and plugged it i. where it repeats. I used Rhyme Time to assist me w/ rhyming and tried to think about the stanzas thematically. I’d already been thinking about this year as both wonderful and awful, and I think that helped me along in my thinking today.

Kim Johnson

Glenda, I love the form and its repetition, and even more what you have done with it with such clever rhyme scheme. You know I love “y’all,” and use it daily here in rural Georgia. 🙂 You do have such a packed September with lots of emotions there- – and the word enthrall for the leaf season brings extra joy!

Denise Krebs

Beautiful rondel, Glenda. I have added this form to my wish writing list. You chose some great rhyming words that work well. I love “y’all.” Such a list of important September dates.

Anna Fedewa

Holding hands with your heart to see you 
I remember the day in June
Looking out for you all day
We spend the night laughing 
About how it was
Before we found 
The pure love 
We have
now

Katie K

Anna, your first line captures me! Holding hands with your heart, it’s so heavy with such few words. Beautiful piece.

Juliette

Anna you’ve captured a beautiful relationship so well in this poem. These lines show the deep connection;
“Looking out for you all day
We spend the night laughing” 
Thank you

Susan Ahlbrand

Anna,
What a sweet poem. You took that line from the song and turned it into something so personal. This needs to land in the hands of the person it’s about. What a treasure!

Lindsay R.

Anna, this is a beautiful piece of poetry. I like the words “pure love.” I can really feel the emotion in the poem you are displaying. Beautiful work!

Susan O

September Lesson

Try, remember the kind of September
life was simple, tender and then
came division and anger.

Happier times now chasing the wind
wistful and melancholy
golden, forty years ago.

Try to remember
and if you remember
then follow…follow…follow

Inspiration:
Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh, so mellow
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain was yellow
Try to remember the kind of September
When you were a tender and callow fellow
Try to remember and if you remember
Then follow, follow
1965

Glenda M. Funk

Susan,
Your poem resonates w/ the idea I believe about September as a divided month, a month of binaries, if you will. I particularly like the repetition of “fallow” at the end and your focus on memory that seeps into the present.

Susan Ahlbrand

I love that song, Susan! Thanks for bringing it to this space. I haven’t thought of it or heard it for so long. I don’t think the phrase “tender and callow fellow” landed on me back then, but it sure does now.

Divison and anger

definitely followed.
I like to think 1965 was a perfect year (the year I was born . . . wink, wink.)

Kim Johnson

Susan, I have known the division and anger following tender, and it brings back those jagged memories. Time has a way of helping us burying some of the things we don’t want to remember – – but oh, the good memories creep in and make us grateful for some of what was.

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Thanks, Wendy and Jason for sparking this memory of my college years. I wrote a novel about the summer I met this guy. Now I get to write a NONET. Much more efficient way to tell the same story. Hmmm. Maybe I’ll switch to poetry! 🙂

You Came!

We met on the campgrounds that summer
Exchanged addresses and promised
To faithfully stay in touch
College overwhelmed us
Not much time for much
You kept writing
I just read
You came
Yea!
Remember that day in September?

yeah.jpg
Susan O

Yes! I remember that event from your book. Such a wonderful ending and your poem speaks of the connection and commitment to a lasting relationship.

Stefani B

Hi Anna, I love how you have been adding images with all of your poems over the last few months. Thank you for sharing this moment with us today.

Susan Ahlbrand

Anna,
This little story makes me desperately want to read the novel. What is its title? Thanks for compacting that story into the nonet and in this space. Appreciate the effort.

Kim Johnson

Anna, reconnecting with buddies is the icing on the cake. I like how you’ve shared that reunion here.

Emily Jones

Anna, I love the way you capture those teenage promises to stay in touch (although they often fall through). The person you’re writing about sounds like a true and determined friend!

Boxer Moon

Such a excellent prompt today. I remember hearing Avenge Sevenfold’s song “So Far Away”, for the first time on a ride with my mom through North Georgia Mountains. I did not realize the impact this song would have me. I believe there are no coincidences in life, but moments of purpose. That radio station, those colorful trees, and those moments with momma were all intertwined with the song. The return of dead leaves exemplifies the love of life, beauty of passing, and stimulation of new growth.

The return of yellow leaves

Riding through the hills of Georgia’s North,
Radio blasts a new song,
Lyrics in the past, bring memories forth,
Didn’t realize then, the new would last so long.

Red Maples outlining orange-oak flashes,
Avenging the time, retold, retold,
Momentary whispers of unforgotten ashes,
Momma put a story in a song for me, sevenfold.

Her memory so close in so far away,
Cool air in historic small towns,
Santa Clause poinsettias, as she shopped around.
Red, yellow, and orange stormed the ride on a November day,
The song was new, (it knew) what it had to say.

     And I –

I listened to the song once again, today.

–         Boxer

Stefani B

Boxer,
I appreciate how your poem builds upon this memory, as well, I like your somewhat hidden musical reference in bold. Thank you for sharing today.

Juliette

Boxer,
Your poem sent me to listen to the lyrics of the song, “So far Away,” by Avenge Sevenfold. A very impactful song. You shared the special memory so vividly. Thank you

Scott M

Boxer, I really enjoyed the craft decisions that you’ve made throughout your piece: the repetition of “retold” in stanza two, the parenthesis around “(it knew),” and the slight pause with that final comma just before “today” at the end. Thank you for writing and sharing today!

Susan Ahlbrand

Boxer–
Thank you so much for bringing this incredible song to us. I had never heard the song or of the band. What a powerful song! I actually watched the music video and saw the story behind it. The raw emotion on the band’s faces, especially the lead singer, is heartbreaking. The lyrics to the song are genius. I especially like

Time still turns the pages of the book it’s burned

Now . . . what you did with the song as an inspiration is simply beautiful. The rich images, the perfect rhyme, the haunting message . . . wow. I absolute love this line:

Red Maples outlining orange-oak flashes,

Stacey Joy

Susan, as soon as I read the title I started singing the song! Wonderful memories came flooding back. Your poem is filled with a full array of emotions and I embraced them all. I was captivated by these lines as they gave me a sense of peace after feeling your deep grief…

holding his hand

twelve hours earlier

as he finally gave way

to the light

I love the sweet serenity of this image. I will write at school today. I have a morning plate that’s already full. I definitely don’t want to rush my writing because the prompt and your poem gave me so much to ponder.

Thank you for hosting and providing the perfect prompts for a busy week! Also, a big thanks to Denise and Wendy for hosting and taking good care of us!!

Ella W

Remember how the stars stole the night
There was not a cloud in the sky
We got lost in the moment
Ah Northern Michigan
The country miles
Forever there
In my heart
Beauty
Nights

Anna Fedewa

Hi Ella! Thank you for sharing this poem! I too have special memories in Northern Michigan and I loved how you ended your poem with “nights” as it closes your poem in the same way that nature closes each day. Well done 🙂

Katie K

Ella, “the stars stole the night” is such a beautiful phrase. They truly do steal the night, our feelings at the time and any other worries because of their beauty.

Susan Ahlbrand

Ella . . .
I love the image of

the stars stole the night.

Denise Hill

That is one of my favorite “groove” songs, Susan, and your story makes it all the more dear to me. But, I get it – my hub just “discovered” a really beautiful song and kept playing it and kind of prodding me to agree with how lovely it was – until I told him it was the favorite performer of an ex of mine, and I stopped listening to that song long ago. Ooop! That ended that. Your revelation took me to my own father’s obituary. I struggle to remember the date of his passing, so I went to the obit and created this from the text there. Maybe now I will remember the date!

April 13, 2014

“Buzz”
son of the late Juda and Mary
served in the Army during the “Forgotten War”
married a Polish Mary at St. Stan’s in Hilliards
spent his life raising eight children
working a successful 36-year career
remained an absolute family man
an outdoor sportsman
teaching all of his children
and even some grands
hunting and fishing and how to cheer
for losers – never giving up
on the Tigers & Lions
[and why I won’t either]
Someone has to win and someone has to lose
he’d say That’s how the game goes
There can’t be two winners
his quick-witted humor
saw him through to his final days
in peaceful surroundings
and survived to this day
by the family
by heartfelt gratitude
by compassion
by kindness

Stefani B

Denise, Thank you for adding your process to this poem as well. So was it sort of a “found” poem as well? I love how you’ve formatted with italics to add in his sayings–this gives us an deeper insight to his personality. Thank you for sharing today.

Susan Ahlbrand

Denise,
I couldn’t love this output more! I am certain our dads would have really clicked. Taking bits and pieces of his obituary was a cool way to create a poem to honor him. I love these lines:

how to cheer

for losers – never giving up

on the Tigers & Lions

[and why I won’t either]

Cheering on losers creates a special bond and I love the way familial influences make us fans of teams for life.

Denise Krebs

Oh, Denise, I’m glad I came back this morning to read some more poems. This is such a beautiful tribute poem to your dad. I love all the ‘by’ lines at the end. Survived, not just by family, but heartfelt gratitude, compassion and kindness. Lovely!

Stefani B

Susan, Thank you for sharing these memories with us today and providing us with a variety of ways to reconnect to memories, music, and life.

SA’s memories of dancing and death
lead me to Green Day’s “Wake me up
When September Ends,” and the CD I’d 
replay over and over that leads me somehow
to the high school day when all the students 
mourned Kurt Cobain, someone we’d never met
leading me to think about Courtney Love
and then Garbage’s song “I’m Only Happy When
It Rains,” thankfully I am not, then thinking about
weather and rain songs, Milli Vanilli, then Stevie
Wonder, and a neural pathway to the time I
called my husband, during our early dating years
and left him a message on his work phone
singing, “I Just Called to Say…”
and the memories spiral through music and 
time, in random connections of lyrics, 
sensory experiences, and images of my
lived history, I’ll just blame this chaos ramble
 “…on the Rain”

Fran Haley

Stefani, I love this poetic song-collage. It’s a tribute to youth, times, artistry…love the part of about the neural pathway. We part part of all we have sung. 🙂

Susan Ahlbrand

Stefani,
How dang fun was this! I love the tumbling of the lines and the clever ending harkening back to Milli Vanilli. My favorite lines are

and the memories spiral through music and 

time, in random connections of lyrics, 

sensory experiences, and images of my

lived history, 

Christine Baldiga

Susan, oh how I love dancing to September as well. Such a lively song indeed. These words say it all and struck such a chord with me: “ a song that once brought joy to my heart is now cloaked with sadness and grief.” Since my mom passed I can’t hear the song Ave Maria” without breaking down, despite the fact it was the song she sang on my wedding day.
Thank you for the inspiration this morning. I chose the line “Holding hands with your heart to see you” to draft this nonet.

September’s cool nights and fresh, crisp days
provide relief from August heat
Time for walks in apple fields
Holding hands with your heart
to see you again
while our golden
memories
carry
me

Kim Johnson

Christine, I love it all, but those last 6 lines draw the perfect picture with such rich imagery and memory. The nonet works so well here – and your memory of your mom is so sweet and tender this morning!

Ella W

Christine, I love how you took the constraints of a nonnet and made such a descriptive piece. You truly captured the feeling of the changing seasons.

Fran Haley

You capture the essence of September so beautifully in your nonet, Christine. The golden memories DO carry us!

Susan Ahlbrand

Christine,
I cry every time I hear “Ave Maria” so I can’t imagine the emotion it must bring if your mom sang it at your wedding.
I’m so impressed how you used a line from the song to inspire a nonet, yet you didn’t use it as the first line. That’s having a heckuva flexible brain! I love the image of memories being golden and carrying you.
Bravo!

Emily Jones

Christine, the imagery in this poem is beautiful and clear! Although fall sometimes makes me sad as the days grow cold, your poem reminds me that it is a season of reflection and being with the ones we love.

Kim Johnson

Denise, Wendy, and Susan, our friends – you have knocked it out of the ballpark with prompts this week. Thank you so much for investing in us as writers with new inspiration and five more poems that would not have been written if not for you. Susan, I’m gonna be singin’ September all day long! Dates do come rushing back with memories – good and bad – when I consider those monumental events. I looked at the first option and took #1 – using September’s lyrics to inspire a poem.

February 16, 2008

smashed Cracker Jack ring
(we knew love was here to stay)
you knelt and proposed

Christine Baldiga

I love this piece and am left wondering how old you were when this proposal came to pass. I can imagine so many scenarios and with each image I smile. Thank you for a brief escape through your words.

Ella W

Kim, thank you for sharing today. Your few lines speak volumes to a beautiful day!

Fran Haley

The Queen of Haiku strikes again, with that Cracker Jack ring and the image perfectly captured in so few words! Such a sweet moment of remembering…do you still have that ring??

Linda Mitchell

Awwwwww. So few words create an image of a lifetime. How wonderful to think it was known that love was there to stay.

Susan Ahlbrand

Kim,
You are such a wonderful presence in this space . . . always so positive and encouraging and insight with your comments.
Your poem . . .
interestingly, I got a gut punch when I saw the date because it’s my dad’s birthday. Hmmm.
How you stuck to 17 syllables to tell this story is beyond me. I want to hear the full-blown story at some point.

Erica J

I love this song so I was pretty excited when I saw this particular invitation this morning. I was immediately drawn to picking a line and writing a nonet. I was not expecting the result I got. Thank you for sharing this idea!

No clouds! Golden dreams were shinny days
sunshine twirling made the sky blur
if you spin faster the tears
won’t have a chance to flow
spinning faster now
because I don’t
want to start
crying…
Oh.

Kim Johnson

Erica, the physical and emotional movement here is incredible! The sunshine anchor of the universe and no clouds – what a great combination. I like
if you spin faster the tears
won’t have a chance to flow

Christine Baldiga

Your nonet captures the heartache of pain. Sunny skies sometimes make the ache grow stronger. I am so drawn in to your shirt and poignant words

Ella W

Amazing job with this nonnet Erica! I love the descriptiveness of the first four lines you included. Your poem ends powerful with your word choice!

Anna Fedewa

Hi Erica! I love how descriptive you were in your word choice in your second line. I also appreciate the theme of your poem of someone not trying to cry, but ultimately it seems that this has not been accomplished. Well done!

Fran Haley

Just perfect, Erica – every line, the internal rhyme, the change in emotion from start to finish. What a ride – like a spinning top, merry-go-round, a child with arms spinning round and round – and memory, of course. Powerful.

Susan Ahlbrand

The result you got was super powerful, Erica! I’m not sure where you thought you were heading when you started, but it clearly took you to where you need to go. I hope the writing of it and subsequent thinking about it was healing and therapeutic.
Thanks for joining in this space today.

Denise Krebs

sunshine twirling made the sky blur” is such a great line that sets up the poems spinning. Such a thought-provoking poem, Erica.

Fran Haley

Susan… we share a unique bond. My father died September 25th. Sunday will make twenty years since his sudden passing. I’ve been feeling the weight of this milestone anniversary. Every word you’ve written strikes the deepest chords, the most vulnerable spots, in my heart. Thank you for an opening here to – well, to open up and pour out a little bit. I am springboarding here with another September song, one that predates me; I remember hearing it on the radio when I was small. Words and images so often return and offer themselves exactly when you need them most Blessings, peace, and comfort to you this day.

September, When Grass Was Green

Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh, so mellow
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain was yellow…

(T. Jones/H. Schmidt, 1960)

I remember
our last conversation
in September
twenty years ago

you said you’d
been cutting the grass
and that maybe
you’d overdone it
going back and forth
with your mower
making a pretty pattern
—your chest muscles
were sore from the turning

it worried me

you were worried
about other things

but happy to be retiring
in two weeks

the thing about last things
is that you don’t know
they’re the last

I remember promising
to come celebrate your retirement
and how we spoke of you
having more time to spend with
your grandchildren

I remember getting the news
a week later
as soon as I walked in from shopping
with the retirement card I just bought
still in my hand

I remember that September day:
so glorious, cloudless sky
so blue it hurt
all the trees sharp-edged, still green,
clinging hard to the light

never again will September
be as bright
or kind

I remember coming home
for the last time
that September

to bury you

to speak at your funeral

to thank you,
my duty-minded, dedicated
father

twenty years
come this twenty-fifth day
of September

don’t you know
the grass is still oh so green
and Daddy, you are still
in the scent
of its cutting

Linda Mitchell

Oh, this is the “other” September song that I love so much. Thank you for taking lyrics from this. I love that you remember your father with this poem in this way. What a beautiful writing time this morning.

Erica J

This poem hit hard. The pain is still so clear in the lines “don’t you know/the grass is still oh so green” at the end and even before that with the detail of coming home with the retirement card. It’s a sad poem, but it’s also so good.

Kim Johnson

Oh. My. Heart…..Fran, this is so you. Two parts reached out and grabbed me the most:

the thing about last things
is that you don’t know
they’re the last

and

you are still
in the scent
of its cutting

You never, never cease to find a tender spot. Simply heartfelt and beautiful. I’m so sorry about your dad. I know he lives on in your memories and in your writing!

Christine Baldiga

Once I got beyond reading the lyrics to that old familiar tune, I needed the tissue again by your last verse. I was struck by the thought of the double meaning of the green grass as we imagine your Dad in greener pastures. Well done and filled with perfect memories for me.

Susan Ahlbrand

Fran, I am certainly sorry we share membership in this “sorority.” Once you know, you know. It’s amazing how much more the ache hits on the big anniversaries. Every year I pray for the gratitude to continue to trump the grief, but it’s hard on the anniversaries.
Now, for your poem.
Wow. This needed to be written today. Your found lines from the perfect song for the situation. I just want to cry with you and send you a virtual hug. This poem is raw and beautiful and so, so sad. I could name multiple places where I sucked in my breath, but the last lines hit me the hardest . . .
don’t you know

the grass is still oh so green

and Daddy, you are still

in the scent

of its cutting

Denise Krebs

Fran, 🙁 so beautiful, and that last stanza…”and Daddy, you are still…” makes me tear up. Thank you for sharing this beauty.

Linda Mitchell

Good Morning poets, writers, and educators. I so wished that school would be different and calmer this year…still waiting on that. This is why I’m especially grateful for Open Write. I see the prompt (all fabulous this week, thank you!) and think…nope. can’t do that one. And, then I putter in my journal for a few minutes and my brain takes a crack at the prompt anyway. It’s true medicine for my soul.

I sing your song
    twenty-first of September
Your star
     stole the night away
hung forever
    in my memories.
Disco ball
    lighting up our path.
Holding hands
    knees bouncing on the beat    
one skate over the other
    round and round the rink
    home, high school and
    those days in autumn
    we never saw coming.

Fran Haley

These Open Writes ARE true medicine for the soul, Linda. I feel my youth returning, reading your words and remembering the scattered, swirling lights of the disco ball, the skating rink, the music, a nameless anticipation occasionally piercing like a knife… love every line and your star’s appearance here.

Kim Johnson

Linda, so much to connect to here – – the disco ball, the skating rink – bouncing on the beat. And the end, the days you never saw coming. From the fun of life, the music and flash to the reality of something that was looming that stole the star. I read this and think about how Tommy Orange once said that the more specific something is, the more universal it is. And you prove that here, my friend. Instant connections.

Susan Ahlbrand

Our roller rink was called Rollerdome and you describe the scene so well. The succinct yet rich descriptions are spot on.
I especially love

 those days in autumn

    we never saw coming.

they make me really wonder what was coming. Of course, something always is.

You are so right about these Open Writes being medicine. They are the salve to my soul. I am aggravated that the five days I hunger for were so hard to be in this month. Thank for you making the time to participate.

Stacey Joy

Linda, so much fun! I wasn’t expecting the “one skate over the other” and that made it even more nostalgic!

I, too, wish that school could be a lot less chaotic but it seems it’s just what we have for now. I hope it changes. Glad you wrote and shared this precious memory.

?

Denise Krebs

Linda, I’m so glad you took your medicine today and wrote this beauty. Like others said, I am right there with you skating under the disco ball. Fun!

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