Found Poems with Amy Vetter
Welcome to Day 26 of Verselove. We are so happy you are here, however you choose to be present. If you know what to do, carry on; if you are not sure, begin by reading the inspiration and mentor poem, then scroll to the comment section to post your poem. Please respond to at least three other poets in celebration of words, phrases, ideas, and craft that speak to you. Click here for more information on the Verselove. Share a highlight from your experiences thus far here.
Dr. Amy Vetter is an associate professor in English education in the School of Education at the University of North Carolina Greensboro, where she teaches undergraduate courses in teaching practices and curriculum of English and literacy in the content area, and graduate courses in youth literacies, teacher research, and qualitative research design. Her areas of research are literacy and identity, the writing lives of youth, and critical conversations. She co-directs a young writers’ camp at UNCG in the summer. Before her job in higher education, she taught all levels of tenth and twelfth grade English in Austin, Texas. Amy lives in Greensboro with her husband and two daughters. When she’s not in the classroom, you’ll probably find her running, cycling, hiking or reading a book.
Inspiration
We can find inspiration in the everyday words that we read. Maybe those words and phrases are from novels that we are reading that help us make sense of ourselves and the world around us. Or maybe those words and phrases are from speeches or articles that we rearrange to speak back to a narrative that is not serving us. Found poems offer us the space to do both.
Process
A found poem is a like a collage. The writer finds words, phrases, and lines from everyday texts, such as newspaper articles, letters, social media, graffiti, etc. A found poet takes those words and refashions or rearranges them into another poem. The poem can take any form, so feel to rhyme or not.
To start, find a text (e.g. a novel) or series of texts (e.g., novel, poem, article) and pull out words, phrases, sentences that stick out to you. Play around with the words. Rearrange them until a thought or theme jumps out at you. Continue until you’ve created a cohesive text.
Amy’s Poem
Russia’s Invasion of The Ukraine According to my Facebook Feed
By Amy Vetter
Putin’s tracks,
heightened alert.
This is NOT Russia!
Still not Russa!
Does it look like Russia?
Dear people of Ukraine,
the President is not an icon,
or an idol or a portrait.
I am here.
We are not putting down arms.
Our weapon is truth.
Ceasefire and withdraw.
Dear people of Ukraine,
the world will hold Russia accountable.
Switzerland sets aside its long tradition of neutrality.
U.S. imposes sanctions like no other.
Britain sends antitank weapons.
Elon Musk pledges to send Starlink terminals.
Dear people of Ukraine,
Your unbreakable spirit
352 civilians, including 14 children, dead,
metro stations turned bomb shelters,
a baby was born in the underground.
Praying for peace.
My heart aches.
Pity.
And when they bombed other people’s houses,
we lived happily during the war.
I took a chair outside and watched the sun.
NOTE: The last stanza is taken from We Lived Happily During the War BY ILYA KAMINSKY, also found on my Facebook feed.
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. 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.
Also, in the spirit of reciprocity, please respond to at least three other poets today.
Found poetry is a new-ish form for me, and I find it to be thoroughly enjoyable. I took pages from Wood and Garden Notes and thoughts, practical and critical, of a working amateur by Gertrude Jekyll and highlighted them into a “traditional” found poem, without re-arranging the words.
the handsome group,
singular beauty and refinement
through the hollows
remains running,
three or four together
side by side.
when one
became too worn
another was by its side.
planted in the old ways,
waving rivers of bloom
accidents of cloud and sunshine.
much better
where they are planted
in haphazard sprinklings.
Mental Health
Fear
Anxiety
Depression
But what about who you leave behind?
How can you leave us?
Why didn’t you talk to us?
I’m glad you are still here
I am here for you
You can come to me
Take a day off
Lay in bed all day
Do what you need to do to be better
Heal yourself
Student-Athletes Everywhere
Another one.
Another one unheard.
Another one lost.
Another one gone.
Is the concern not loud?
Where is our support off the field?
Who is the best?
Who is next?
Winning.
School.
Social life.
Pressure.
They need your help.
Enough is enough.
Student-athletes everywhere.
I hear you.
I like your repetition and your questions that lead us to hearing your concern!
Margaret, I hear you and I am with you. It needs to stop, the pain and the suffering so many of us are going through just isn’t okay. I love the depth you have put into this.
I’m Not Perfect Nor Are My Rough Drafts
God knows me
Perfectionism doesn’t
God can encourage me to write
Perfectionism immobilizes my hand
God knows I’m not perfect
Perfectionism forces me to think I am
Believing in my rough drafts as progress
Avoiding perfectionism at all costs
You have described me to a tee! “Perfectionism immobilizes my hand” says it all. Especially hard to write because my forte is in Visual Art not English.
In the same way that “God” is a name or label we have created to talk about that which is beyond words, so too in the word “Perfectionism” do I see a name/label for something that is much larger than just a level of self-criticism. It’s as if when I read the word “Perfectionism” in this poem, I hear a cacophony of past experiences, perceptions, understandings, and expectations. The “God” word is calm, steady, comforting. A nice juxtaposition of concepts that encompass so much more than just the surface shows us. And – yup, Carolina – I think this just about sums it up for most of us here! Although, I LOVE the process of writing and all the “sloppy copies.” But – when is it ever truly done? : )
Carolina, I’m so glad you came to share this draft. Exactly! I love the last stanza. There is so much value in your (our) rough drafts! Perfectionism is a lie that beats up a lot of us.
Carolina, this is so relatable and so powerful. Your juxtaposition of God and Perfectionism creates a good reminder that the latter does not serve us. Thanks for sharing!
Carolina, your words have spoken volumes to me! You’re right, God is the one not perfectionism. We don’t need to be perfect or impress others, we only need him.
Amy, thank you for the invitation to write Found Poetry today. I looked at a page from Pygmalion, which I’m reading with juniors this year. Most of my poem is from the stage directions given to Mrs. Higgins which is why I left it italicized; I did, however, modernize to fit a current audience 🙂
Thighs rise and lower
with an impatient bounce.
She deletes discarded half-poems;
snatches a sheet of digital paper from the Drive
tries resolutely to write.
At the sixth line, she gives it up;
slams down her keyboard;
grips the table angrily and exclaims:
Oh, men! Men!! Men!!!
Rachelle,
I could almost hear Audrey Hepburn doing this–even though it comes from stage directions it has impetuous and I can feel the urgency. Men, indeed! Nice job!
Rachelle,
This is a great found poem. I love that you kept it as directions, give the poem a cool vibe.
Hilarious adaptation of this prompt, Rachelle! I NEVER in my life would have thought of stage directions – and it’s brilliant. Your “modernization” is also quite clever. Your poem along with Carolina’s are quite nicely paired, and I also had an interestingly intrusive inclusion of a line about men in my poem as well. What fun we can discover when we go looking, right?
Rachelle, the focus on actions and movement makes this an exciting read. That last line is the perfect (literal and figurative) punctuation to end the poem.
Today got away from me thanks to work being INSANE and staff meeting added the icing on top. Amy, I wish I could’ve given this more time but I am seeing double. I love found poetry and it’s something I’ve enjoyed more than any other type of poetry. have a close cousin on death row and I want to include more of his story in this piece. So, my hope is that the draft I’ve written can be revised and improved in time.
I read: Jericho Brown’s poem “Hustle” and The Color of Justice
(VERY ROUGH DRAFT)
Injustice Isn’t Color Blind
Dare not shift in your seat
Keep both hands on the wheel
Never get loud or angry
But
As a Black or Latinx person
being arrested is likely
and the police might kill you
The color of injustice
Mass incarceration
America’s the world leader
The color of injustice
© Stacey L. Joy, 4/26/22
Stacey, thank you for sharing this poem despite the chaotic day. I am sorry to hear about your cousin, and I hope the process of creating this poem acted as a way to process what is happening with this supportive community. Your poem, its stanzas, and its refrain speak powerful truths.
Stacey, your poems are always so full or truth. I love reading them. Got me thinking about “the color of injustice.” Wow!
Such a powerful poem! Thank you for sharing!
Stacey, your poem is deeply moving. Your last three lines say it all. My heart feels heavy after reading this because your poem speaks the ugly truth and I worry that this problem will never be solved. Hugs.
Oh, Stacey, peace to you in these difficult work days. It is always good to see you made it here another day, in the midst of your busy schedule. I’m glad you are going to work on this poem to honor your cousin. You have chosen rich texts to find poetry in. “Injustice isn’t Color Blind” so true.
America is the leader in so many sad and telling statistics:
“Anger is fear’s bodyguard”
Not frail but not yet toned or “filled in,” he
walks with trepidation. The world around
looms and leers. He spends mental energy
seeing others’ ill-intentions abound.
He walks passed cracked doors without
so much as
a glance or an attempt to recognize
room for growth. He will not finish the task:
he will become stuck. Frozen. Paralyzed.
Beware of this child, for if you approach,
you will be met by someone larger and stronger, yet subordinate with reproach. This protector wards off those who command.
The brute strength of the bodyguard can hold
only so long while the child grows old.
Laura, such powerful imagery and line break choices. I especially like your last stanza: “hold / only so long while the child grows old” has a lot of neat repetition of sounds that fit together well. Thank you for writing.
I love the personification and imagery from your poem, Laura!
Ohhh, this is dark, but what I appreciate in poems like this is how they “shed light” on a very human aspect. I also enjoy the personification. That can go sour sometimes if it feels pushed to heavily, but you balance it well here. The “Beware of this child” reminds me so much of the line from Dickens in a Christmas Carol where the spirit is telling Scrooge about the “children” he harbors in his robe. “brute strength of the bodyguard” is a great descriptor, and the closing line does offer some hope, in its own way. It reminds me of how many ways I ‘used to be’ back when I was younger that have indeed fallen away as I have aged. So nicely captured here, Laura. What your inspiration must have been for this, aside from the quote, I wonder.
My freshmen read Act III scene ii of Romeo and Juliet aloud today. I found a lullaby within.
Lullaby
Come, loving night
Come close, gentle night
Bring wings of clouds
new snow.
Bring little worshiped stars–
Leap to these arms
Thy cheeks!
Come, lie upon these arms
Thy cheeks,
Oh, thy cheeks.
What perfect timing! I’m so tired. Those wings of clouds and new snow sound delightful!
Allison, your lullaby came at just the right time. It’s been one of those days and I”m just getting back to add comments. I agree,
Come, loving night!
🙂
Allison,
What a lovely little song from you through the Bard! If you hadn’t told me what it was from, I never would have guessed. It is sweet and perfect for a lullaby.
Allison, this is so sweet and lovely—just the antidote I needed after a long day of testing freshmen and testy freshmen. The last stanza and the repetition within is how my nights are going these days—it’s hard to be mad about losing sleep when those chubby cheeks are resting on your shoulder, chest, face, stomach…thank you for sharing this sweetness!
Gorgeous poem, Allison! Love the emotions and the repetition of “thy cheeks”!
A great poem for me to read tonight before I go to bed. It is so restful. Thank you!
Allison, striking lullaby! Your words bring me calmness and peace.
Amy,
Any day that involves.found.poetry is a good day. It is one of my favorite poetry methods. Your second stanza is just incredible. I feel like our world is one giant found poem of social media…people piecing together parts and pieces of what they say and hear to form their own version of a narrative. So interesting.
Oratorio For Living Things
Sheer diversity feels like
an exercise on unity-
A Renaissance-style motet,
A Latin text,
A vaguely different past
passing effortlessly through jazz.
The prevailing sentiment is
Wonder,
Overwhelming–clearly galvanized
By expressivity, complexity, and sincerity.
– a found poem based on “Oratorio For Living Things” by Oussama Zahr, music contributor for The New Yorker
Rhiannon, you inspire me! I have struggled with Found Poetry, but what you did here was powerful (brilliant!). I’m now headed off to read Oussama Zahr–
Rhiannon, The lines that strike me are the ones with the internal contradiction that makes so much sense. It’s encouraging to see poets using paradox so effectively.
Sheer diversity feels like
an exercise on unity
Folks forget that all any one thing is just boring!
It’s when we put things together that unity seems to occur because of complementary persons, magnets that attract and contrast that highlights beauty.
Wow!
Really – I’m wanting to read that original text now also! I love these lines together “A vaguely different past / passing effortlessly through jazz.” Just the sound reverb in my head as I read that is fun. The final line also, with the ‘-ity repetitions. I’m impressed with your poem, Rhiannon. I feel like when I do these, it is just a bunch of disconnected words strung together. I mean, I know that’s what it is, but it FEELS like that to me then when I read mine back. I don’t know if it’s because I know the original text and just can’t quite shake it. When I read this, and others, they feel as though they were intentionally written that way. Definitely something I will try my hand at more often to see if I can get a better sense of how found works. Thank you!
Today was a busy day with little time to read, so I turned to my text messages from today and pulled out some lines. None of these are from the same people. Welcome to my life!
Tuesday Texts
By Mo Daley 4-26-22
I have so many lists today
and need to accomplish all of the lists.
Seriously!
Mom is positive.
My head feels foggy
so concentrating is hard.
Last I heard, he was basically
a shut-in.
That is difficult news to hear.
What are your thoughts about tomorrow?
Mo,
Using your text messages is a genius concept. Even though these are from different people, I really appreciate how much these reflect the ping ponging nature of digital exchanges (which seem eerily detached from any authentic emotion more often than not).
“That is difficult news to hear.
What are your thoughts about tomorrow?”
Perfectly captured.
Oh, I love how your lines build “a life.” This is a brilliant example of how juxtaposed lines can create added meaning. I especially liked the final two lines. “That is difficult news to hear.
What are your thoughts about tomorrow?”
Mo,
I am all in here with you! A student’s parent sent me a message saying her daughter tested positive. My administrator blatantly lied in staff meeting, and the majority of the day felt like a bad dream.
This is the story of my day! I can’t read tonight but I stopped here and feel affirmed and comforted. Let’s not think about tomorrow!!
?
This poem is “found” in Karen Hesse’s final poem of Out of the Dust:
We thought our dreams would dry up
Skin stretch to nothing
We almost lost our spirit
When the wind of disaster blew strong
Bringing with it a fog that snuck in like a stranger
And stole off with our hope.
But our dreams would not dry up
We stretched as far as we could
Held each other’s spirits close
Planted ourselves deep into our soil
Looked the stranger in the eye
And found our hope.
Oh! Alexis! The use of stretch in both stanzas connects, pulls and broadens the meaning. I noticed the placement as the second line in each stanza and then saw that you crafted several others lines with that word connections as well (dry up, spirit, hope). This makes me read and re-read to see how their use compares and contrasts. So good to see the fog here as well.
I love Out of the Dust and what you’ve done with Hesse’s words. I can practically feel the tension and the hope here.
Wow, Alexis! How incredible. I don’t know the original text, but this poem reads like a kind of creation myth. Or re-creation myth. I love the mystical feeling of it with spirits and dust. The earth-as-grounding for these beings gives me a sense of wholeness and safety for those beings. How lovely and fun! Thank you!
Thanks Amy for the prompt and the reminder of the power of a found poem. I was drawn to the article in Rethinking Schools Magazine: The Power of Teaching Poetry (who doesn’t love Renee Watson and Linda Christensen?) The article (a conversation between the two) is well worth the read!
I Have it in my Bones: A Found Poem
Writing is not a competitive sport
Everyone has their own voice, different stories
Who have you touched with your hands?
What are the stories of the scars on your knee?
Our memories, the recipes, a space to enter
I have it in my bones
Poetry can be a container for emotions
We’re angry
We’re sad
We’re confused
All of me was welcome
My joy and my pain
My frustration, my questions
I weave poetry
A raft of poems
Eerie medley, location-notes, love calls
Whistles and grunts
Sounds that all melt into a liquid
I have it in my bones
I’m not perfect
Courage is contagious
Joy is resistance
Play with language
Eyes of poetry
Outrageous verbs
Repetition, listing, repeating
Writing is serious
It kind of explodes
Planting seeds, fanned the flames
Feel free
Wild and risky
Nurtured me
I have it in my bones
This is a lovely poem about writing poetry! I was really drawn by your descriptions “joy is resistance” “melt into a liquid” “fanned the flames”.
Kim,
I adore these lines:
“Eerie medley, location-notes, love calls
Whistles and grunts
Sounds that all melt into a liquid”
i love the concept of a poem being the liquid of all things which have melted into it. Stellar!
I appreciate the free-spirited feel of the end of your poem, Kim, “Wild and risky /
Nurtured me / I have it in my bones.”
Thanks Amy! I love found poems, and their cousin, the blackout poem! This one was fun. (Although the poem is a bit darker than my mood, lol.)
I Have Questions
the problem?
happiness is so elusive
things I hoped to achieve
writing teaching traveling leading
good noble causes
but
i’d devoted my life to that kind of existence
i look back
i question the path I was
walking
and what about you?
Dave,
You offer up this poem duo— and your note about being darker than your mood make me think of how poems are an offering to the writer to try on a mood and to the reader to do the same. I am trying on this poem and wondering if I can step into it’s mood, maybe even take on the speaker’s tone. I am wondering, if I do, what that might mean for me. What if…I took another path? What if I were to change it or abandon the devotion. Whoa!
Sarah
Dave,
I resonate with this piece in many ways. I love your use of “but” after listing the “noble causes”–a reminder that nobility alone is not enough. The blackout poem visual is incredibly powerful. Bravo- I love this.
Dave,
This can be read in so many different ways–which is what makes it wonderful! On one hand, I can see the darkness you alluded to, but I can also see a hope for moving forward. Maybe I’m just an optimist? Either way, I found it intriguing.
Love found anything, Amy – and appreciate the opportunity to play around with words today as students were finishing final projects in class. This comes from a couple pages I tore out of a copy of The Fiery Cross by Diana Galbaldon. The book was in the trash, and I rescued it and have been using it for blackout poetry with students this semester. It has a bazillion pages, so it was a great ‘find’ to salvage for fun wordplay! Thank you!
braced to bear
the burden of knowledge
she drifts toward sleep
What is she dreaming now?
the thin padding flesh of her skull
a dreamscape of wakefulness
thoughts beat against breaking rocks
imagine those teeth exposed
uttering a curse or prayer
her bones so delicate
gesturing wildly
echoing in her flesh
lost in the sounds
of a crowd of men
“I mean it,” he says
let the fire go out
“I mean it,” he repeats
as she disappeared
into the willows
Absolutely amazing! “A dreamscape of wakefulness” so many wild, fantastic verses to allow imagination run rapid! Thank you ?
Oh my goodness this poem gave me chills Denise! “the thin padding flesh of her skull…thoughts beat against breaking rocks…bones so delicate” wow. Simply beautiful.
Denise, Your opening lines
braced to bear
the burden of knowledge
reminds us that we are accountable for what we know. One of the issues with the CRT is that some folks don’t want to know because then they’ll be responsible for action!
Knowledge is power, heavy!
I love how you are able to pull such thoughtful perspectives out of lines, Anna. I read your comments and think, YES! – but then – Why didn’t I see that?! CRT certainly pushes all the right buttons, IMHO. Not only responsible for the past, but for the present and the future. Evolution is proof that those who can change and adapt will be the survivors. CRT is the change we need to evolve and move forward. Some folks, well, they just won’t evolve, and time will see them become history. My hope.
The world’s richest person,
Unhappy
With the policies of a
Major social media platform,
Is buying it
Musk calls himself
A free speech
Absolutist
What does that mean?
More bullying?
More lewd commentary and images?
More misinformation?
(Found in a CNN article. A tweet under 280 characters)
Jennifer,
Im thrilled to see your poem. I thought about finding a poem on this topic. Did you see the EU told Musk he must monitor Twitter or risk the EU banning it? ? Did you see Musk’s flawed analogy about the public square, as though there are no rules governing behavior or speech in public? Anyway, love your poem.
Jennifer,
I fear all of that. Your poem is a bullseye mark.
Jennifer — I fear Musk is a man of very little conscience and the platform is doomed to be another spewing of manipulative nastiness. You really touched on a nerve for me…this is among some of the worst news ever… a world without truth and fact. Heaven help us. Teaching what fallacies are and how to spot them has never ever been more important. Thank you for your poem. Susie
Boom. A free speech absolutist? Any absolutist is dangerous. There is always an exception…
Jennifer–
BINGO! This is perfect!
I have always loved how Barrie talks about growing up, something I have never been ok with. The novel happened to be sitting next to me as I sat down to write so I chose excerpts from the first chapter as well as the prologue to the play.
Except One – A found poem from the play Peter Pan and the novel Peter Pan & Wendy by J.M. Barrie
Two is the beginning of the end
Some say that as we grow up we become different people at different ages
All children grow up
Draw a map of a child’s mind
The Neverland
The Neverlands vary a great deal
We can still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall land no more
All children grow up
Perhaps he is to be found in the faces of some mothers
Oh no, he isn’t a grown up
As we grow up we become different people
But I don’t believe this, I think we remain the same throughout
All children grow up
Oh, surely she must have been dreaming
Children have the strangest adventures without being troubled by them
She had believed in him at one time
All children grow up
We remain the same throughout
Merely passing in these years from one room to another
Accompanied by a strange light
But always in the same house
All children, except one, grow up
If we unlock the rooms of the far past we can look in and see ourselves
beginning to become you and me
This come from my scripture study today 🙂 I enjoyed delving in to the words!!
Promises
An eye single
to light knows
wars, earthquakes, pollution, lying
shall not last
the time of
all marvelous things
comes
“The time of all marvelous things comes.” What a beautiful and inspiring thought!
Thank you for the prompt, Amy. I’m loving found poems. Mine is from the article titled “What is a vibe?” by Robin James.
Link: https://itsherfactory.substack.com/p/what-is-a-vibe?src=longreads&s=r
What is A Vibe?
Vibe is everywhere now
a model for everything.
Vibe is a mood
an intention
an ambience
a state of mind.
Vibe is a sympathetic response
a tuning in with the world.
Vibe is a phenomenological horizon
a meeting point between you and the world.
Vibe is a standard of judgement
a study of usefulness
a cost benefit analysis.
Vibe is an instrument of culture
an object of governance.
Vibe is everywhere now.
I keep hearing the word “vibe” from the kids these days & thought this was a fun explanation! Love the phrases you strung together & how you start and end your poem with “vibe is everywhere now.”
Love the hypnotic repetition of vibe…good vibrations!
Such a timely poem! I appreciate how you put all of the meanings by using repetition. Thanks for sharing!
Amy, thank you for hosting today. I was listening to a book today and the words were Listen and there was a note about Bruce Sprinsteen’s song “I’m on Fire” playing in the background. I am having a little fun with that as the beginning and trying to tie in a few lines from other songs and song titles.
Spontaneous Human Combustion
Listen
I’m on fire
Come a little closer
Can you feel my skin tight
Flickering with flames
Please
Step inside my ring of fire
Feel my desire
Yes,
We’ve set the rain on fire
Baby, we couldn’t get much higher
Snap, crackle, fizz…..
Barb Edler
26 April 2022
First of all, love these songs. And I also love how, for a stripped-down song, you’ve stripped it down even further to its erotic menace! : ) Rock on!
Barb, your poem is on fire! Love it, love listening to Bruce! I like all these fiery references, especially the shout out to Johnny Cash – “Step inside my ring of fire.”
Fran— this is excellent! Love the pulling in of all the song titles. I’m singing fire songs in my head right now. Johnny Cash, where are you?
I love found poems! I used a short story that I teach in World Literature.
from “Something Like Joy” by Mathew Howard (a short story)
a cornucopia of whirling constellations and bursting stars
balanced zen-like and perfect amongst the wildflowers and stones
spread inside her, a voracious hunger and pull
words usually flowed for her like light and water
chasing the zephyr memory creeping gold in the early light
a trail of bubbles strung out into the depths
he wouldn’t hold back his stormy sorrows in his quest for wonder and awe
navigating the seas of grass and lunar foothills,
tremendously, unknowingly beautiful, but also broken
the world was shrinking away in a cloud of fire and fumes
nothing more than scattered matter and energy
the great distance between them was rendered nothing more than a crack
I see something of myself in the shadows on his face
strange, how tightly people hold onto the present as they approach death,
how entirely they cut themselves loose from the past
she was strung by her feet between two stars in the airless expanse of space
every time I go back and try to fill the dots, I’m there again, I live it again
I can’t trust my memories, so I fill the gaps with stories
Cara, holy moly, your poem is amazing. I love the imagery and I will have to read this short story. I especially enjoyed the line “I see something of myself in the shadows on his face”. Then the end is such a delight “I can’t trust my memories, so I fill the gaps with stories”. Fantastic!
Cara, I agree with Barb about the awesome imagery. I love the repeated imagery of space/astronomical terms. It made the whole poem feel kind of beyond human. Do you have a digital copy I could borrow? I would love to read it! The ending “so fill the gaps with stories” gives me chills.
Cara,
You hit is out of the ballpark with this one. I love the imagery in your poem. My fave line is
This was very fun! I picked up a magazine from a pile. Even the title came from found words.
Bridges Across Culture and Time
Enter a place where glamor hasn’t checked out –
swinging sounds by the sea;
chilly siren of the north.
Find out more.
Unlink your body.
Too much of a good thing can be wonderful –
like a picture book:
glimpses of life;
stitches in time.
Is there any greater journey than
lovecoasting along?
[Words found in TRAVEL + LEISURE: November 2007]
Amber, I love your poem. The sensory appeal is awesome and how you combined “glimpses of life”. I was considering looking at a travel brochure to write my poem today. Your ending refrain is particularly compelling especially since you’ve crossed out love. I love the question! Excellent poem!
I love this! The combination of “unlink your body” and Too much of a good thing can be wonderful” is such a delight! “like a picture book: glimpses of life; stitches in time.”
I had just opened an announcement for an upcoming art exhibit and came across the word “Bruxism.” This was a new word for me! Thanks for this prompt that made me realize how a poem can be found in so many other places.
A Night Sentry
Bruxism
a disorder
of moving teeth
I hear when awake
what consciousness can map connections
of tension between bodies and environment
between everyday events and nerves
who will record it?
grinding, gnashing, clenching
liminal state
aches
nerves
hypersensitive teeth
what sensory experiences
cause this movement disorder?
who will stand and watch?
listen with stethescope to play back
recordings of a common, habitual exercise
a manifestation of prolonged stress
can one hear it
when I’m awake?
daily events
Bruxism
Susan, wow, your poem is amazing, and I love how you connected Bruxism to not only its definition but how current events would make one grind their teeth. I love “can one hear it/when I’m awake?” and “who will record it?/grinding, gnashing, clenching”. I just find this so mesmerizing. “Who will stand and watch?” Fantastic poem and compelling questions!
The ebb & flow of line length here was really engaging, especially when you’re leaning bravely into physical discomfort & logical conundrum. Thank you!
I love how you put Bruxism at the beginning and the endas a sort of frame. This poem has teeth.
Thanks for the prompt, Amy. Sarah shared a countdown poem 2 years ago about grades here: http://www.ethicalela.com/26of30verselove/ this is what I used for my found poem.
You Are More Than
an a or b or c grade
is not a
being of worth
is wrong
is only a fragment of your story
saying more will fail you
Change Your Attention To:
Who Are You?
Who Do You Want To Become?
don’t reduce your Identity to
rules
grades
letters
typos
Your Identity Is More,
It’s Made Of
Love
Creativity
Excitement
Words
Doubt
Difference
Excitement
Possibilities
Opportunities
It’s Beautiful.
a grade doesn’t measure up.
period.
Preach on!!
Angie, wow, this is such a wonderful poem. I love it! The list of what makes an individual’s identity is perfect! Your final lines…I say, “Amen!” Awesome message and poem!
“Your identity is more. It’s made of love, creativity, possibilities…” should be the mantra for every student and person!
Yes! “a grade doesn’t measure up”
Glass-Ceilings
By: Emily Yamasaki
Nevertheless
small victories
mark an important beginning
Nevertheless
hard-working underdogs
unlikely leaders
incredible people
Nevertheless
won’t take no for an answer
through
journeys of hope
We persist
https://www.amazon.com/Nevertheless-We-Persisted-Defiance-Strength/dp/1524771961
Such an empowering poem, Emily. Love the refrain. Thanks for sharing the book – will have to check it out.
Emily, I love the strong language, the “unlikely leaders” who will not “take no for an answer”. Love “journeys of hope/ We persist”. Connecting Nevertheless to each stanza is fantastic too! Outstanding poem!
Beautiful – adding this book to my list, too! I especially love your ending & the repetition of “nevertheless” throughout your poem.
Amy,
This is a great prompt and your output is very well done!
Today is day one of administering our state standardized test, so I decided to rant about it rather than do the found poem.
Why?
ILEARN
an acronym for
Indiana Learning Evaluation Assessment Readiness Network.
The only word kids think of
is
TEST.
It causes
stress
and lost instructional time.
Students are left to feel
incompetent
not noticed
inferior
Teachers are left to feel
incompetent
not noticed
inferior
So many
traits
qualities
and skills
are measured by this
silly test,
leaving both
teacher and student
feeling unsuccessful.
An African proverb says,
“If you want a tree to grow,
feed it . . .
don’t measure it.”
Yet we spend countless hours
measuring our students,
mainly required
by lawmakers who have
never spent one minute
in a classroom teaching
(or helping students to grow).
Computer Adaptive Test . . .
each kid’s test morphs
according to correct or incorrect
responses.
Forty potential items.
FORTY.
For one portion of the test–five more to go.
Many require written
response with textual evidence;
some consisting of Part A and Part B.
Standards assessed
include . . .
main idea
theme
author’s purpose
summarizing
development of text
inferences
structure of text
supporting details
controlling idea
consistency of style and tone
to name a few.
Standards . . .
defined as: an idea or thing used as a measure,
norm, or model in comparative evaluations
Comparative
Hmmmm
How do you compare
an apple (a student raised
in a loving home
with a rich environment
of books and engaging stimuli)
and an orange (a student
born into instability
without guiding adults or
resources for learning)?
Norm
Hmmm
Are there even norms
any more?
For anything?
Heaven forbid
that a kid may come
from a different background
culturally and lacks exposure
to certain things.
What if they weren’t provided
breakfast this morning
or dinner last night?
What if Dad smacked Mom
around while they were trying
to get a good night’s sleep
for the test?
What if the trauma pocket
in her belly prevents focus
and constantly has her nervous
system on high alert?
Not to mention the stress they
feel when the system won’t let
them on, when it takes five attempts
to get logged in.
Four for the teacher.
And how insignificant
they feel when they don’t have
the required earbuds
and have to borrow from
my curated stash of
left-behinds.
And who could forget
the learning gaps
created through
the stay-at-home order,
the days of quarantine,
the months/years of
“learning” through a screen.
The millions and millions
of dollars that go toward
the development and
administration of this test
each year
could certainly be spent
more wisely.
To better equip schools,
to create programs to assist
students,
to shrink gaps
that naturally exist.
(I won’t even get into
better compensation
to teachers and other support
staff in schools).
We need to invest in
our youth
but
NOT
by testing them
and measuring them
with a metric ruler
when the floorplan
is in inches.
~Susan Ahlbrand
26 April 2022
Susan, Yes, yes, and yes! I’m vigorously shaking my head over here. There is so much wrong with (and so many layered problems) with this whole business, but let me just say, I loved in the craft sense (but hated in the “real life” sense) the truth in these lines: “And how insignificant / they feel when they don’t have / the required earbuds / and have to borrow from / my curated stash of / left-behinds.” Thank you for giving voice to this!
Damn, Susan. “Trauma pocket in her belly” that is powerful description. I didn’t want this to end. A truly necessary rant. I also love how you emphasized students and teachers feeling the same. Thank you.
I’m not sure why my formatting didn’t hold. It wouldn’t make a huge difference, but I realize this can be intimidating to the eye.
Friend, you sing on key! I like that you share the proverb about the tree growing. Measurement implies fit. Fit implies a mold. Do our students fit the mold? Better question: do we want our students to all fit the mold? What’ll we have then?? I’m over here singing with you.
I screamed this from the rooftops every year! But I didn’t say it as well as you did. Bravo!
Thank you for hosting Amy. I am detached from what is occurring between Russia and Ukraine, so this letter sums it up for me. This plea to the people of Ukraine gives them hope and us the realization that this is happening! I do not watch tv anymore and what news I do read is read via my Facebook feed. My guilty conscience eats at me with the last stanza: “And when they bombed other people’s houses,
we lived happily during the war.
I took a chair outside and watched the sun.”
This is me. I am pretending like nothing is wrong. I offer my prayers for the people of Ukraine, but my humanitarianism for others is a little lacking. I’m too busy thinking about ball games and tests.
Here is my poem. I was inspired by the book I need to pick back up, All That She Carried: The Journey of Ashley’s Sack, a Black Family Keepsake by Tiya Mills. The last page I read posed this question as the first sentence: “Who was Rose?”
A Rose Plucked from an Uncultivated Garden
Who Was Rose?
She was a woman,
enslaved,
whose daughter Ashley
was about to be sold.
Preparing for a journey foreseen,
she packed in a crafted cotton sack
precious remnants:
a tattered dress, 3 handfuls pecans, and her own braided hair.
Recounting a story of survival,
her granddaughter, Ruth
stitched with tears and careful consideration,
the sack’s purpose,
language of love,
lost in transit.
Passed from unwanted hands,
winding up in various places:
boxes in storage, vehicle trunks,
flea market bins, national institutions,
longing to be in the appropriate hands
of the current generation,
kept safe from gawking eyes
and greedy palms.
The traveled sack reappears,
revealing family history through
embroidered sutures.
Who was Rose?
Rose was a living testimony:
a Woman.
a Genesis Queen.
a Mother.
a Grandmother.
Her unembellished masterpiece
stained with sinuous words
told her story.
Jessica, wow, I must read this book. I adore the way you create how Rose’s story is shared and the need for it to be placed into the right hands. The list of who was Rose is fantastic! “Kept safe from gawking eyes/and greedy palms” wow, those words are rich and connect so well to historical events. Powerful poem!
Yes Barb, thank you! I have many obligations and I’m dying to finish it. I’ve only read the introduction and two chapters. I’m hoping to chisel out some time to finish it.
I love how you crafted this poem – all answering the question “who was Rose.” She sounds like a phenomenal character. Thank you for introducing us to her, and this book!!
I wish I could expound on her more, but I’m not where as deep as I want to be. I can’t wait to see how the author continues to share her story.
Amy, MMMM MMMM Good! Look at the gold I found in a poem by Ada Adeleke-Kelani! Just selecting
Moments Matter
Moments matter
Memories
Make
Mementos
Momentum
Momentous
Moments matter
Movement
Motivation
Mountains
Moments matter
Momentary
Motion
Monument
Found in poem by Ada Adeleke-Kelani “Moments Matter”. (2022)
All these M words are soothing to hum together.
Anna,
Very cool messages in this poem! I found hope, uplift, sewn together. Beautiful mellifluous poem!
Mmmmmmm. So good…
Well said and perfection on the alliteration Anna! It’s interesting how all of throws words form together to create the best way to describe moments, whatever they may be.
Thank you for this poignant poem about the war in Ukraine, Amy. It is heartbreakingly true that ‘we lived happily during the war.’
I found my poem at a new doctor’s office, as I completed all the paperwork –
Patient Acknowledgement
enroll
confirm
accept
you consent
you will receive
you agree to pay
you have the right
you are ultimately responsible
deductible
co-payments
out-of-network
non-covered
e-prescribe
please sign
to avoid any misunderstandings
fully understand
we understand
we may need to
we will inform you
we are not required
we reserve the right
call back if worsening symptoms
You captured the annoyance of filling out forms in this poem. Great ending line! I also like the repetition of we.
Love the creativity you found in this patient form! So many confusing terms and I always feel like I’m signing my life away.
Maureen,
This is brilliant. The irony of “you are ultimately responsible” w/ “call back if worsening symptoms” is not lost on me. Our nonhealth care system is a travesty. ?
Yikes! You really captured it all in this poem. I love that you found a poem in the tedium of filling out medical forms.
Boy if this doesn’t just carry the tone that I feel when i peruse those things. You really nail it with this.
Pedro the Waste Reducer
Erik conjured some serious ghosts
something felt particularly nervy
I never know where to start
hug it out and revel
understand
The good news?
your daily habits
add up
keep a list
get too complicated
choose
creative ways to
create the perfect
surprises
Alex, your poem makes me curious. I love this line:
“Your daily habits add up” – this reminds me of how I feel when I think it won’t be worth it to make a small change. A great reminder!
Thank you Amy for a challenging prompt. I decided to take a picture of my random bulletin board. I believe this board is symbolic of my thought process-Sporadic and with purpose. Your poem Ukraine was insightful and demonstrated the nonchalant attitude of many people toward the situation with Russia and the Ukraine. Thank you!
file:///C:/Users/moonc/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image002.jpg
Gorton Kennedy’s Quiet Dolphin
Justice life court:
Prepare the life you choose.
It’s the life you live,
Be the person you want to be and Fly Alone.
Few are willing to hunt, Put forth your best effort.
Allow yourself to fail, then ask how you did it?
Just know, we become what we think about.
Everyone wants to eat, inspire others to learn with you.
You will be outnumbered, Take care of yourself and your neighbor.
How I’m going to win? How I’m not going to lose?
Tesla, first they will ask you why?
We are lions and eagles, supreme, we grow our minds.
History is important, Prepare the life you choose.
It’s the life you live.
-Boxer
It may be a ‘random bulletin board,’ but it is filled with inspiration and wisdom! I am fond of “Be the person you want to be and Fly Alone.” Love that. I like how you began and ended your poem with ‘Prepare the life you choose.’
Oh, Boxer, love, love the repetition of the first two lines. It sounds “sporadic and with purpose.” Lovely.
P.S. We can imagine your bulletin board through the words, but sadly we can’t access your photo. If you use the little photo icon in the lower right corner of a comment box, you can insert the photo. (You might have to take a snip of it so it’s small enough.)
My bad this is the photo.
Boxer, wow, your poem radiates with so many powerful messages. Loved “How I’m not going to lose?” and “It’s the life you live.” This a poem that needs to be shared with students especially to share the idea that it’s better to take a risk and fail than not to try at all. Awesome poem!
I like the question of allowing myself to fail and then asking how I did it. That’s pretty deep – – and it sounds like a great topic for students in high school – – to have experience with the experiences and benefits of failure – and how to see it as a step to success. Brilliant!
Love this opportunity, Amy, to create with found things! I worked with ideas & phrases found in this Pitchfork review
ambient sonnet.
Along with the usual noises
(washing machines, wind chimes),
this house has other voices.
Scratches, creaks, murmurs, all times,
all corners of the house. Like a
conductor tapping a baton,
a critter’s feet ticking out a
path across the roof, lighting upon
the shingles faintly. Beneath
the deck, deep in the shrubs,
a bit of digital-ish noise beeps
& chirps, then drops out, an abrupt
small wild world alive, persistent. But each
time I approach, silent, just out of reach.
How beautiful, meditative…and, truly, the soft background noises of a home environment…love the juxtaposition of “(washing machines, wind chimes),” and I am mesmerized by “small wild world alive, persistent. ” Fun found poem!
Oh, my goodness, what a crafted beauty! A found sonnet is quite impressive. I love the title too. I read it quietly imaging the ambient sounds. Now, I’m sitting here, listening to my space too.
Joel,
This is such a lovely collection of sounds that are just out of reach of the speaker. I am now pondering how one reaches for sounds– in our bodies, minds, memories– and how we and places carry sounds. This phrase resonates: “an abrupt/small wild world alive, persistent” — this seems to be my answer.
Peace,
Sarah
This is lovely! I speaks so well of the noises I hear around my house in the evening. But I do get startled during the day when a crow drops a nut on the shingles above. Thanks for listing these voices.
Joel,
Wow, wow! What a gorgeous sonnet! The rhyme, the sound, the rhythm — just lovely. Thanks for this beautiful piece of writing today.
Joel, you’ve captured the beautiful images and noises of an abandoned farm I think. “this house has other voices”…wow, love that line and the sound that is “just out of reach”. I was completely pulled back into the farm life. Wonderful poem!
As a person who’s a light sleeper and craves background noise…this would annoy me…more like terrify me because I’m an over thinker and the one chick in the horror movies who always gets “got”! These lines resonated with me: “Scratches, creaks, murmurs, all times,
all corners of the house.” When I’m alone and it’s deathly quiet in my house, that’s when it wants to turn up!
Thanks for your prompt Amy, Gathering poetry from your Facebook feed is proof that poetry is all around us. Your choice to juxtapose Starlink terminals with the lines proceeding it was brilliant!
A Walk Along the Beach with Eliot
When summer comes,
I shall wear the bottoms
of my trousers rolled,
and walk into the ocean,
wondering
at the scuttling
of ragged claws
across the floors
of silent seas—
straining to hear
mermaids singing.
Such worry and sadness
riding seaward,
combing the white hair
of the waves blown back
whispering
there is time yet
for a hundred visions
and revisions.
Time for the works and days
of hands
time for peace.
Wow, so many beautiful treasures here. I feel like I’m there on the walk with you.
My favorites:
and
Hi! Wish I could take credit for these words but my poem is based on the poem the Love Song of J. Alfred Prudrock by T. S. Eliot. Guess I should have made that clearer. He wrote all the good lines!
Ann, I love this “retelling” of Prufrock! It’s so much more hopeful! Thank you for that. (To this day, when someone offers me a peach, I always respond (in my head at least), “Do I dare to eat a peach?”….as I age, It’s rather telling about me that I think of this poem more and more…Now, I can temper it with yours!)
Absolutely exquisite walk along the beach…love the idea of
Wonderful journey! I especially loved the lines
“there is time yet
for a hundred visions
and revisions.”
This can be applied to so many things in so many ways.
Thanks for taking us on this walk today.
Hi! Wish I could take credit for these words but my poem is based on the poem the Love Song of J. Alfred Prudrock by T. S. Eliot. Guess I should have made that clearer. He wrote all the good lines!
OK…I’m cheating a bit today. I’m sharing a found poem that I wrote in June of 2020, after we had been out of school for an unprecedented three months. I culled it from student emails, from March through June, and I’ve always wanted to share it with….anyone. 🙂
Dear Teacher,
I’m so sorry for taking so long.
Could you read it over and let me know what you think?
And if not, then tough luck for me, my fault.
Could you read it over and let me know what you think?
Awesome, thank you.
Anyway, here are my photos from the last two weeks.
I hope all is well with you and your family.
The time limit really stressed me out.
I’m dealing with my own personal issues right now.
While I’m not keen on discussing it, I will get it done tomorrow.
Thank you for always being patient with me.
I’m sorry I missed that.
I hope you are doing well.
I really struggled with this
essay.
Just making sure you received this
email.
Online schooling is getting to me with all these
due dates.
I’ve had these done for a long time, I just forgot to turn them in.
Hopefully it’s not too late to turn it in.
Did I miss
an assignment?
I was a little confused.
Sorry for the confusion.
I’m trying to get caught up right now.
I was unable to even
start
the essay today.
I’ve been waiting for a nice day that I’m not working
so I can send you a picture of my pup eating ice cream!
That would be fun!
I have a follow-up question.
Is my grade going to get changed soon?
I don’t want my mom to freak out on me.
HAHA! Sorry about the lateness.
Sorry for the delay on them,
it’s been a hard time for me to adjust.
I was wondering if you had an idea of when we would do the Zoom?
I will be there!
OK, thank you!!
I made a cookie cake last night,
and so this morning
I cut it up into pieces
and bagged them
and drove to my friends houses
and dropped them each off a piece.
It was amazing seeing everyone smile when I gave them their gifts.
It’s so nice having more time to do things like that now.
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY TO YOU!
WHAT IS WITH THIS SNOW?
Here is a picture of me rototilling one of our gardens.
This is one of the many outdoor chores that I enjoy doing on our property.
I am so sorry that it is late.
This is a pic of me catching a fish the other day.
OK, thank you!!
We walked for two hours 🙂
These past few weeks I’ve been struggling with my mental health.
Thanks. I hope you are well.
Oh, Wendy, I’m so glad you shared this with us today. It is a primary source history lesson for the ages. Your student comments are so precious and sweet and poignant. You have captured the confusion and fear, but most of all for me, I noticed the dogged attempts they made through those first few months. God bless them and you.
Wendy, this is truly a time capsule of one of the most challenging inflection points of the pandemic, from perspective of students – oh my the thread of mental health challenges:
Excellent found poem!
Wendy,
Thank you for sharing this collection of voices and experiences in conversation– indeed an historical archive documenting how ways of being a student and a teacher shifted and continue to shift.”catching a fish” and “gave them their gifts”
Peace,
Sarah
Thank you for centering your students in all their emotional variety today. What a ride this poem is–what a ride we have with them each year, each class! Thank you for wrapping up with their gratitude, which I think is their default mode : )
Wendy, I loved this. It’s amazing how so many different conversations can flow so well. This will definitely make me think twice before emailing an excuse to a professor. I never knew there were so many ways to say something is late. lol
It’s all good. “Grace” was the word of the day.
Wendy, this is great! I totally agree with everyone here: this is a wonderful and important historical piece that you’ve captured/crafted here. (And I love the line “I’ve been waiting for a nice day that I’m not working / so I can send you a picture of my pup eating ice cream.” This made me smile!)
Oh, Wendy . . . this poem takes me right back to this time of year two years ago and the sweet notes and desperate attempts at connection and normalcy that kids sent. You really pulled some gems. And it flows so well!
Lines from the Administration Manual of a Nationally Administered Test
You may not
You may not
Are there any questions?
You will not
Keep the aisles clear.
You may not
You may not
You may not
You may not
You may not
You may not
Eating, drinking, and the use of reading materials are not permitted
You will be dismissed
Do you have any questions about prohibited behavior?
Do not
Do not
look up when you are finished
look up when you are finished
Listen carefully
Do not look around.
Please pay attention to time
Put your pencil down immediately and look up at me
Remain quiet in your seat
Do not
Do not
do not
look up at me when you are finished
Stop, put your pencil down
look up at me now
You will be dismissed
Do not share
You may not
Are there any questions?
look at me when you are finished
Do not
Do not
do not
look up at me now
Do not
Please remain quietly in your seats.
You will not be allowed to make up lost time
You will be dismissed
You may not discuss or share
You may not eat or drink anything
Please be quiet
Please get ready to resume testing
Do not
Do not
look at me when you are finished
look at me when you are finished
Stop, put your pencil down
and look up at me now
Do not
You may not
Remain quietly in your seat
You may not
Remember, discussion or sharing
is prohibited
Please be quiet
You are dismissed.
_____________________________________________________
Thank you, Amy, for your mentor poem and your prompt! Your poem was very powerful (especially with the statistics at the end). Thank you for pulling these from your Facebook feed and crafting this poem.
This is GOLD.
Scott, your poem captures the tests–long, laborious, repetitive, never-ending. And full of DO NOTs. “Do you have any questions about prohibited behavior?” says so much! The last two lines are so anti-climactic. Bravo!
Scott, I can imagine this happening as testing occurs. I see the teacher jotting down these directions as an experiment in what testing does, the vibe it creates (though vibe is too fun a word). What a stream that washes over them (and the connotation of stream is too languid and soothing for the actuality). We are testing this week (ugh).
How many times is the word ‘not’ used herein, underscored, emphasized? What insight to our testing!!
Man, those “do nots” are permanent wounds almost lower-case trauma. Our preservice teachers carry these rules, prohibitions, restraints and silences with them. We have to do so much unlearning so that they that can imagine classrooms spaces with more “do” and possibilities and agency.
That last line “dismissed.”
Sarah
Scott,
Your poem makes clear the negative impact of those nationally administered tests in students and teachers. “You are dismissed” is what the f***ing tests are all about. The repetition is excellent here. At some point in my career I started reading g the instructions as though they were a dramatic reading of reading them in a robot voice or like the teacher in Ferris Bueler’s (sp?) Day Off. I’d do what I could to insert a little levity into the awful experience. Do share this w/ your students.
Oh, Scott, this poem needs to be used in a pre-teacher in-service session. The repetition is fantastic and all of the negative emotions connected with testing just jump off the page. I had to laugh at the end. “Please be quiet/You are dismissed”…that dismissed has so many layers of connotation. Well said, Scott! Fantastic poem!
I am in week three (out of five) of being a proctor for our state assessments and I feel this one in every fiber of my body. I love that this shows just how negative the instructions are right before we expect them to do their best and keep a positive attitude.
Yes, yes, and yes. You. May. Not…
Oh, Scott, such truth here. Yikes!
Amy, I absolutely loved your poem! Every stanza was gripping. Loved the refrain. Every word, every image was packed with feeling. Heartbreaking and beautiful, and the last stanza really packed a punch.
Amy, I often think about the Kaminsky line “we lived happily during the war” and how we can turn off the TV and pretend no one is suffering. Every poem I write will be in grief from the recent passing of my father. It’s just how it is. Kim Johnson graciously sent me Amanda Gorman’s book Call Us What We Carry. My found poem are lines taken from the first 9 pages (including the epigraph).
Borrowed Words
So you must carry it
as a daughter of it
awake, a wake
a light so terrible
as winter’s wind
Weep
Knowing
There are no words.
So sorry to read about the loss of your father. Your poem, Borrowed Words, captures the tenderness of this inexpressible grief. Thank you for sharing!
Oh, Margaret, your borrowed words are rich and full of the depth of mourning and sadness. I love the juxtaposition of “Borrowed Words” and “There are no words”
A mighty phrase:
Peace to you in your suffering.
Margaret, “So you must carry it” – may these beautiful moments of poetry offer you some solace at this time.
Margaret, this was just beautiful. As someone who has lost dear family including a parent in the last two years, this really resonated with me. I love the very first word and the feel it gave the poem. Bravo.
Margaret, your poetry is always so moving. Your poem’s end is chilling “Weep/Knowing/There are no words.” Magnificent poem!
Margaret, the toughest situations bring the most beautiful, heartfelt poetry there is – I’m convinced. Raw emotion, deep connection, authentic expressions, and painful honesty that tells there are no words for the grief, but in that first line there is action – – the carrying forth. The picking up and carrying of the light, the legacy, the memories, the baton passing from one generation to the next in the order of things. I remember a student of mine who’d had one of the toughest lives of any I’d ever taught came to me after my mother passed and said, “welcome to the club – now you know what it’s like, too.” At the time, I thought, “how rude. How terribly rude for him to say that to me.” When I shared it with my husband, he said, “Kim, that wasn’t rude. He didn’t mean to upset you. What he was trying to do was to connect with you, to let you know that the two of you share this bond of loss.” In my deepest grief, I was able to see things in a way I’d never before seen them with new layers of feeling I’d never known. My prayer is for your comfort, for your continued beautiful words, for your peace and your family’s peace. I’m so grateful that you waded to the depths of emotion and found beautiful words today. Keep crying, keep writing, keep smiling and laughing through all the tears.
A profound and beautiful found elegy, Margaret. A daughter carrying the terrible grief.. I know it. Strength to you each day.
It’s amazing to me to realize that you can truly “find” poetry anywhere!
For my poem, I just picked up each of the books on my side table, opened to a random page of each, and picked a random phrase. My books were (an eclectic combo, for sure!) Ridiculously Big Salad, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, The Boogeyman Exists, Atomic Habits, Song of Achilles, and Story Genius.
Stranger Than Fiction
In stories, we crave
addition by subtraction;
we want to
scrub ourselves clean
in the harsh salt
of the sea.
We give a wide berth
to jealousy
and cattiness;
we know that
the dried turd
stops smelling.
For love, we
nourish our souls
with nutritious greens.
Yes, indeed, we can find poetry anywhere, and you did that, Julie. What an interesting activity you chose with your eclectic collection. “We want to scrub ourselves clean in the harsh salt of the sea” is such a great image.
Julie, this was too cool! Love the way the words came together to create intriguing ideas. Loved it!
Good morning, Amy! I will be sitting with these lines from your poem…one of the heavy realities on all of our minds. I don’t understand human nature sometimes. I do understand the sun.
I went back over the last 25 days and took my poem titles inspired by #VerseLove for writing today’s ‘Found’ poem.
5 Ways to View these April Showers
~brcrandall
i.
When it’s always Monday (gripe)
wear rubber green boots
purchased from K-Mart
& splash in puddles
like a 3-year old
(next up, sixty)
hoping to find
frogs.
(Sarah Donovan,
thank you)
ii.
Cultivating genius also
requires ghold-en sunshine.
Find a tribe,
an Aquarian,
& let the dance
begin as if you are
a 19-years old
on Wigmore Place.
It’s 1992 & you know
life socks, sometimes,
so head outdoors
barefoot, dancing
to Blues Traveler,
in the rain.
iii.
Note to self,
from the way I see it,
I am handing down a candle
into the abyss,
the academy of darkness,
burning it at both ends
so there
will be light for the dampness.
the seeds will hatch.
you will grow.
the sunlight of summer
will be your reminder
May is on its way..
iv.
the recipe
for April,
is clickbait,
to smell barbecue
& anticipate freshness
from garden leaves
& tomatoes .
(Um, seriously, Pillsbury!
Make my life grand!)
Don’t be a dough-boy.
v.
walking with Ger
you remember
how to find the right words…
for the destination
not the journey.
Birds of a feather
learn to wait a minute,
22 year and counting.
There will always be confessions
(upon contact) –
a way to find the boy without a balloon
and remind him of
RIP-pride, summer ’16,
Vance Joy,
the closest thing to Michelle Pfeiffer
that we’ve ever seen,
& the importance
of shower songs..
a resistance to umbrellas.
Bryan,
Lovely tribute to poets here. As I read I recalled poems and thought about those I missed. This could be a scavenger hunt.
Bryan, fun process you used this morning. I’m picturing myself in rubber boots jumping in the April showers puddles. Thanks for this.
I’m chuckling at your ending, Bryan, “& the importance / of shower songs.. / a resistance to umbrellas.” Living in the Pacific Northwest, there’s an unwritten rule that only tourists carry umbrellas, locals may have a hooded jacket or hat, or simply get wet.
Amy,
Its a paradox, I think, that we can find so much poetry in war, as you have and as the poem you incorporated into your found poem illustrates. It’s one of my favorites. It is art that in the end saves us, and we are in awe of the Ukrainians’ tenacity and ingenuity.
Poetry in Stone
shift perspective
recompose the scene
cast a kaleidoscope
alter hues in
serene vistas
deceptive landscapes
ruddy sunrise
crystalline sky
rocks ablaze
stones clatter
hoodoos bulbous
columns murmur
shadows shift
listen through
twilight advancing
forces of weathering &
erosion never
rest in this
mesmerizing canyon
*Source: National Park Service Bryce Canyon pamphlet. The photo is the Hammer of Thor along a trail we hiked yesterday.
Friends, weak internet precluded me from uploading photos the past few days, but I have some (15) on my blog today: evolvingenglishteacher.blogspot.com
Glenda, I love that your poem is a found scene, so carefully detailed that we are traveling with you (I have not yet been to Bryce, despite the urging of many family members). “Hoodoos bulbous” and “cast a kaleidoscope” speak to me most in your recomposition. I need to do more recomposition. I like the idea of it.
Oh, Glenda, you have captured the beauty of Bryce Canyon with these gorgeous words from the pamphlet. Thanks!
are all favorites of mine in your poem.
Now, I’m off to see more pictures at your blog.
One of my favorite parks!! Love your two word lines, creating a Bryce canyon “hoodoos bulbous” – just beautiful, Glenda! One of my sons is named Bryce, so we HAD to visit here years back; it is SO UNIQUE. Truly a “shift perspective” – love how you captured this experience.
Omg such a great idea to create a found poem from a National Park pamphlet! This is so lovely and poetic. I want to try!
Glenda, loved the fun language in here:
“deceptive landscapes”
“hoodoos bulbous”
And I adored the pictures on your blog.
Loved the peaceful headspace that your poem transported me to in the midst of a busy day. Thanks for this!
Glenda, the powerful words you’ve chosen in this poem and the way you’ve layered them creates a movement of its own. I love “erosion never/rest in this/mesmerizing canyon” Thank you for sharing such beautiful photos of Bryce Canyon. I’ve never been there and feel compelled to go after seeing your photos and reading your poem.
Absolutely gorgeous verse, Glenda! That must be some pamphlet! The images flood my mind in bright colors, as mesmerizing as a kaleidoscope… “hoodoos bulbous,” utterly exotic. The photo is stunning as well – all in all, just breathtaking.
Early Morning Headlines
Mask mandate lifted, somewhat
There may be a Pfizer pill
In this state, Gay is accepted
In this state, LGTBQ is banned
Another person of color has been killed
at the hands of law enforcement
Zelensky appears in a zoom meeting
Educational state testing begins soon
for the first time in 3 years.
Teachers are preparing anxious students
Gas prices are still high but holding steady
I need a mental health day. Maybe I’ll stay home.
Seana,
The headlines do make me want to crawl back under the covers. Your arrangement of headlines here is perfect. Those tests are a war on children.
Some days the news is just too much. Yes to the mental health day.
If anyone wonders at our angst and often overwhelming malaise, we need only to show them a copy of your poem. Anxious students being cared for by anxious adults, all of us in need of mental health break!
Seana, I hope you will enjoy a mental health day soon, if not today. The headlines are not always hope-filled these days. Peace to you as you persist.
Something about this time around with state testing that makes me want to curl up and just stay home. Sending love!
So, so much negativity to be found in our world, Seana, and the headlines certainly highlight those things. Your final line is the perfect response!
A couple of days ago, I wrote a found poem in response to the annotation prompt. Many years ago, I came upon teaching annotation through the Annotated Charlotte’s Web. So today, I took my copy of Charlotte’s Web and found this poem lying within. Thank you, E.B. White, Wilbur, and Charlotte!
Woven Words
Thinking about the future,
Her mind was full of everything.
Nothing is absolutely the limit
Of nothingness – bewilderment,
Suffering, doubts, fears –
How brief and lovely life is.
Right spang in the middle,
Words gave her courage.
She bestirred herself,
She worked slowly, steadily.
She wouldn’t go with a tussle.
Common, ordinary words
Neatly woven like a delicate veil,
Truly a thing of beauty,
A miracle.
Oops – Line 11 – WITHOUT a tussle.
Beautiful, Word Dancer,
Your poem too is “neatly woven…truly a thing of beauty” Lovely. (E.B. White used some great words.)
Word Dancer,
I love Charlotte’s Web. That book made me fall deeply in love w/reading.
“Words gave her courage.” I think this is true for me and many others.
“Common, ordinary words
Neatly woven like a delicate veil,
Truly a thing of beauty,
A miracle.”
It strikes me that perhaps White meant these words for adults as much as for children.
Charlotte’s Web has to be my all time favorite book. I used to read it aloud every year when I taught 3rd grade. E. B. White’s words are woven well into your poem. Especially, “her mind was full of everything.” That’s how I feel today.
[In our YA lit course at OSU, we began writing a range of I am/Where I’m from poems about our adolescences, and we read these aloud in our first weeks of the course to hear the people, places, and beliefs we bring with us to reading and teaching. In the last night of the course, I gathered lines from their poems and also other artifacts from our 15 weeks together for a memory-lane slideshow. I appreciate the invitation today to revisit their poetry and create this found poem of our future teachers.]
I am
bright-eyed and hopeful,
quiet and grounded.
I am lost, but I make it work.
I am from a two story white house in the country
with grassy pastures and a creek bed.
I’m from a small town, from ranchers and teachers,
from southern food and hospitality.
I’m from dead possums that aren’t safe to hold,
“better left in the trash can” as I was told.
And mud fights in the hay field after the rain.
And pow-wows and two stepping and
spinning around my cereal bowl.
I feel happy when I take the first bite of ice cream.
I see Backgammon and the train coming in.
I smile at the IHOP’s funny face pancake.
I hope to inspire people in the future .
I want to be a great teacher like my mom.
I wonder if I am going to be successful.
I’m from the blurred photos on my phone—
memories of the people I love.
I’m from all those moments who
make me who I am today.
From trips to lakes and caves where
we got lost and found our way again
From bus rides to tennis tournaments singing
our hearts out to Hannah Montana.
I’m from the blue depths I trusted,
and was told never to turn my back on.
I am from the newly renovated homes
with freshly planted flowers covering up
the destruction from the tornado.
I am from my bookshelf and every story in
there that found me in my closet.
I am our teachers.
Wow, “I am our teachers” is such a beautiful conclusion, Sarah. I’m happy for your preservice teachers to get to spend time with you and poetry and your good listening ear. My favorite sections are the renovated home “covering up the destruction from the tornado” and the beautiful way that writer said the lines with “…every story…that found me…” Such a lovely collection.
I love this collaborative I am From poem. All of the lines weave together a picture of teachers who will care for our children.
Every line of this poem pulled on my heartstrings this morning…maybe I’m more emotional than usual. But these lines made me laugh/smile/chuckle.
I recently learned about holding possum. Not fun at all. The memory-lane sideshow is first-rate….gorgeous. Our teachers…our teachers, indeed.
Thank you for this cento–I think Nick Flynn has several in his latest collection. The way you kick off each stanza is such a jolt, such a new adventure each time, particularly in the last two, which really traffic in images of uncertainty & depth!
Sarah,
How perfect . . . pulling lines from the Where I’m From and I Am poems . . . every line of those poems is usually a gem. These tell us so much about your students and I LOVE your ending.
Amy, what a powerful poem about the people of Ukraine. “Dear people of Ukraine” — so many good hope-filled messages, and then the last three lines show how it is for so many of us not in the conflict live. So horrible.
I took a chapter, “Bushwick Library,” from When We Made It, novel in verse, by Elisabet Velasquez. I was so struck by this chapter when I read it yesterday, I went back to it today. (It’s more a summary than my own thought or theme jumping out.)
Somebody Else in a Book
every Saturday
leaves us at the library
no time limit
vacation from us
for one day
doesn’t have to be
someone’s mother
miracle
I love her for this
for one day
inside a book
we get to be
somebody else too
Denise, these words are everything:
“inside a book
we get to be
somebody else too”
This has always been my go-to appeal when reading novels and memoirs. It shows we are not alone. Good text choice.
Denise, I’m amazed at all the ways books can nourish. Yours remind us we can become someone else. The line “inside a book” stands out to me as it is even more amazing that an object so small can expand so greatly. And all this comes through love.
Denise, this is great! Love the title, and these lines arrested me immediately:
“vacation from us
for one day”
And this:
“for one day
inside a book
we get to be
somebody else too”
Love the ideas in this poem and wish I had more time to be “somebody else” in a book.
Bravo!
The short lines work magic here, Denise – a number of beckonings, as if books are calling the mom to escape and the kids to climb in and have an adventure. I am savoring this!
How Not to Testify Before Congress
I don’t recall.
I don’t remember.
It’s hypothetical.
I don’t remember.
I don’t recall.
Please.
Just.
Don’t.
GJSands
4-26-22
Yes, please, just don’t. That was painful to watch, all the three minutes or so that I saw. Good topic and title for your poem today.
Gayle,
You nailed it! What a bunch of lying liars.
There’s a punch to the punchiness – brevity and conciseness are delicious. Applauding this short, powerful poem.
Amy, “our weapon is truth” is ringing out for me. Oh how I wish, and pray that truth will win out for these people, and for us all. Truth seems to have been lost somewhere and we all need to get it back.
I loved your process of finding a poem from your Facebook feed. I was just reading an interesting research article on Twitter sharing new findings on how the orb-weaving spider (Philoponella) escapes demise by jumping away from its mate post-coital, thus keeping it from being cannibalized.
Escape
Jumpy male spiders
avoid certain death
catapulting away
with gusto
making a bid
for freedom
The prospect of
being eaten
after sex
is enough
to make
anyone
jumpy
I love that you took something from Twitter and from nature! Both can be great inspiration for poetry. Thanks for sharing.
Christine,
I LOLed after reading the last verse. Jumpy, indeed. I was surprised it’s the male spider who is afraid. It’s an arachnid Handmaid’s Tale of sorts. I need to find that article.
Christine, what a great poem. That last stanza is so funny, when we think beyond the Philoponella fellow.
Christine! Yikes! I’m glad I’ve had a bit of time before jumping into your poem (spiders and post-coital cannibalization would have been a lot first thing in the morning – haha!). That second stanza is a crafted LOL).
Christine,
This made me laugh out loud (the second stanza!), but then made me rethink the metaphorical implications of it, and I subsequently found it so cool and meaningful. Great job!
Link to article: https://www.sciencenews.org/article/orb-spiders-mating-male-catapult-female-sex-cannibalism
That’s one smart spider-! What a fun poem, Christine. For us. Maybe not for poor jumpy ‘Phil’.
Thanks for teaching me something new today, Christine! I love orb weavers, but didn’t know about the postcoital cannibalizing…shudder.
Dr Vetter, I’m writing from Austin, TX–where did you teach? And your Ukraine poem contains a lot in just a few words–news, politics, humanity, hope, and perhaps a little guilt from enjoying life while the war wages on. I used the subject lines in my inbox as fodder for my poem today:
What I need and should know, from my email inbox
Your weekly progress
Brand new music.
If you’re a bird, I’m a bird
Two types of heartbreaks.
Lingering showers
Warmer days ahead
Are you in need of some Vitamin Sea?
Hurry!
Better sleep is finally here!
Easy overnight breakfast!
50% off books–
Chris, it’s time to make the move.
All members
Need to course correct.
A Note from the Universe
The (real) definition of success
Gratefulness.
Oh I want to read the email about needing more Vitamin Sea! What a wonderful place to look fir a found poem. I must try!
I taught at McNeil High School. Austin is a really special place :). I LOVE that you took the subject lines from your email. I could see how this could be an eye opening activity for students. You get to see the overarching messages that we are bombarded with every day. I wonder what the (real) definition of success is ;).
Small world! I’ve been in RRISD for 23 years now…ARD facilitator at the RROC for 11, resource teacher at AME for 3, librarian at Sommer for 7, and now back at AME as librarian.
As for the subject lines…it was a big lesson to teach my students to actually WRITE them when composing an email, lol!
What a fun idea to take words from an email inbox. Great! I especially like the stanza including the rush to sleep and also having a delicious breakfast ready when you wake up.
Chris, like Christine said, I want to try this. The title is perfect…which reminds me of what should be the importance of subject lines, but often gets neglected. So many interesting and varied words and phrases; no wonder we are overwhelmed with such a bombardment of thoughts each day!
the last stanza says it all the whole universe needs gratefulness — very cool!
Fascinating, Chris! I’d not have thought of using subject lines in my inbox. This came together amazingly well – that last stanza, especially. I agree!!
Fascinating, Chris! I’d not have thought of using subject lines in my inbox. This came together amazingly well – that last stanza, especially. I agree!!
Hi Amy, the war is very sad…so many innocent people loosing their life senselessly. Why can’t we live in a world of love. There is so much killing and violence in our world I pray for peace.
Domestic Violence
How can what was once so precious turn to destruction
No more conversations
No more quality time
No more respect
Shouting! Hitting! Bullying!
Disrespecting
Controlling
Destruction
How does a relationship turn so bitter
Turning to God
Being slow to anger
Appreciate and Respect life
How can what was once so precious turn to ABUSE
For some even DEATH
Dee, your words move me to tears. You capture the horror in your final lines.
Very powerful! Thanks for sharing.
Dee, the gradual decline from what was precious to abuse and even death in your poem is palpable.
Dee, your poem paired with Kim’s makes for an interesting discussion on conversation. So much of violence stems from lack of conversing. I’m struck by how you shape shouting (not a conversation) and hitting (definitely not conversation) as you show the transformation of abuse.
Amy, your organization in this found poem is extraordinary. Heart-wrenching. Convicting. Chilling – what is happening to the Ukrainians but also that final image of nonchalance for those not in the throes; it burns. Thank you for this inspiration today.
My found poem comes from Natalie Babbitt’s The Search for Delicious, Amanda Gorman’s poem “Arborescent I” from Call Us What We Carry, and A Field Guide to Lies: Critical Thinking in the Information Age, Daniel J. Levitin.
Stories We Tell Ourselves
I read a story
about people who
built towns
crowned a king
and enjoyed
a great many
quarrels and troubles
all of which
they created quite
by themselves
for our brains are built
to make stories as
they take in the vastness
of the world
we forget
looking at a city
through the window
of a train
that we’re only seeing
the part
with the train tracks
running through it
not the whole
blow the whistle
open the door
but it is shut
and locked
the brain
makes up its mind
-it is a very powerful
self-justifying machine
and so
for selective windowing
we would again
give up our world
Fran, as a traveler, this poem speaks to me. We see the surface or small area of a place and think we’ve been there. And yet every person in the kingdom is a piece, a small part, a connecting thread of that place. I like the term “selective windowing” for how our minds choose to see a place. We see it and don’t know the story, so we make our own. And so it is with people as well – – we choose to see what we see and shut out the rest. I love how you wove these pieces of found places together in this poem and made a whole new redesigned poem that makes perfect sense.
I love that you put multiple texts together that were written in different genres. The image of us only being able to see the story in front of us – on the train tracks – is really powerful. I also liked the phrase “self-justifying machine.” We can justify anything and we often go to great lengths to do so. Thanks for sharing!
Fran,
Love this poem that both honors and offers a cautionary note about storytelling. This stanza sets the tone:
“for our brains are built
to make stories as
they take in the vastness
of the world”
Im sure you’ve read Tom Newkirk’s “Minds Made for Stories,” but if not, grab a copy. You’ll love it.
Fran, what a beauty you have created from a diversity of texts. So full of truth. “selective windowing” is a great way to describe the choices we make to not have empathy, our brains “shut and locked” up tight. Powerful!
Fran, so many ideas are percolating after reading your words (they began while reading and continue even now)! This idea of story making in response to the world, followed by only seeing the part we travel through, along with the narrator’s urge to us to blow the whistle and open the door is where I keep returning. Isn’t so much of our world “selective windowing” that we are pushing against with mirrors, doors, windows? And that “self-justifying machine” of a brain. Ugh. So much of that. I love how you used the found phrases to get us thinking so strongly today!
Amazing combination of found lines. I am drawn in by “the brain makes up its mind.” I am wishing it weren’t so.
I love this, Fran. On Amtrak from CT to DC, I often think about windowing…an relate it at times to Katniss’s windowing in THE HUNGER GAMES (all those districts that fly by). I read, and reread this poem.
Amy, in utilizing what’s already written, we have opportunity to look at what was in a fresh way. You’ve taken us back to what was and is still ongoing. Those exclamatory phrases (not Russia! Still not Russia!) hold power. I gathered the titles of our #verselove prompts to create my poem today.
#verselove2022
How to Be
Succinct
In the choices We Make
Tumble Down
Tell Me
(Without) Telling Me
What I Didn’t Do
Oh, what a beautiful way to put these prompts together – – and it actually fits together to make perfect sense. You put it together like pieces of a puzzle that were always meant to find each other with the right eyes to see them lurking, longing to be put together this way.
Jennifer – perfect poetic patchwork! How beautifully the prompts come together, arranged by your artistic hand.
Jennifer thanks for sharing. I like the line tell me without telling me. At times we want to give instructions on how to live a good life but the best way is by exampe which is powerful and effective.
Amazing! You chose the perfect titles to capture this poem – and our journey.
Love this! This could be something to keep in a notebook. Great reminder of how/what to write as we continue to play with language.
Jennifer,
Clever approach. Love your choices The paradox in “tell me / (Without) Telling Me”is my favorite. It’s provocative.
Wow, Jennifer, magical. It reads so well, the sounds bouncing off my lips. I like
“Tumble Down
Tell Me”
and the last line too.
Jennifer, I love the flow of these titles! Your juxtapositioning of them is fantastic. I so enjoy the zigzagging at the end: the telling (but not really) (but also really) and the action (but not really) (but also really)!
What a creative way to collect words for the prompt! I really like your line “tumble down”-such strong visuals and detail in those two words.
Amy, thank you for hosting us today. I like how you blended news and poetry for your found poem. Ilya Kaminsky’s poetry is stirring! I chose a page from Tom Sawyer for my Found Poem.
Conversation
Conversation
beating hearts
heads together
voices
through the gloom
spangles of light
Nicely done …. “voices …. through the gloom”
Kevin
Hi Kim, thanks for sharing. Your poem made me reflect on how little people engage in meaningful conversations. People are so wired to technology these days…I wonder if we will every get back to the days when friends use to sit and enjoy each others company.
Just beautiful, Kim – in so few words, such love, hope, and light. Yes – let us put our heads and hearts together in true conversation.
Kim, this small moment captures strong emotion and sets a scene for us. So much said succinctly!
Through the gloom spangles of light! I need these words today. May we all find those spangles
I appreciate the picture that you added. The visual can add to the words that you’ve chosen to highlight. We always need to work at having meaningful conversations, especially when trust has been broken between people. Insightful topic!
Kim,
An unexpected text choice! Bravo. Love the photo, the concision in your poem, but mostly the message and definition of conversation.
Lovely poem and photo. I like looking at your black out poem today. You highlighted such beautiful words. Those heads and hearts together in conversation are “spangles of light”
Kim, this idea of a conversation sounding, feeling, emulating beating hearts is fascinating. The rhythm of your word placement and lines mimics this back and forth. And celebrating actual conversation as light through the gloom is a hopeful image in an age where we are missing this. (I love the photo you added at the end!)
Found Poem
Living in
mediated worlds:
We’re no longer
text-only as
we experience
this reality, daily,
with gifs, memes,
selfies, videos,
and podcasts
but still, but still,
but still: we broadcast
through the modality
of written language
a found poem from one paragraph of NCTE’s Media Education in English Language Arts statement
https://ncte.org/statement/media_education/
— Kevin
We’re no longer text-only – I like how this shows we are progressive and adaptive. We roll! Love it!
hi Kevin, thanks for sharing. Your poem amplify how different modalities we use to communicate. As times change the genre of communication change. I wonder what next.
Visual literacy does seem to be the currency of communication these days, Kevin…but it does still lead us back to written language and comprehension. I really like the use of “mediated” in this poem.
I love that you chose to do this with a NCTE statement. It is so interesting to think about how language is changing. As writers and educators, we get to play around with these multiple modes and help our students do so as well. Thanks for sharing.
Kevin,
The repetition of “But still” is very effective. Good text choice.
Kevin, I love the repetition of “but still”
Another pet-peeve of mine, too. Text is limited. Always has been. Always will be. Great choice to find a voice this morning, Kevin.
Nice! mobile-moveable hieroglyphics!
Kevin, I love the point you make here! There is so much debate about students’ means of expression, and whether formats such as memes should be allowed as valid forms of student writing. Your last thought, “we broadcast / through the modality / of written language” sums it up so nicely.