Our #OpenWrite Hosts
Mo Daley and Tracie McCormick have been friends since they both taught at the same Oak Forest, IL middle school in 1995. Mo holds master’s degrees in English and reading specialist and works as a middle school reading specialist in Homewood, IL. She keeps busy with reading and writing, her ever-expanding family, and love of Little Free Libraries. Follow her on Twitter at @ofdaleys. Tracie holds master’s degrees in English and school leadership and teaches ELA and social studies in Oak Forest, IL. Her one word this year is ATTEMPT, so she is enjoying new methods of personal and professional growth, which is what led her to ethicalela.com. Follow her on Twitter at @TracieMcTeacher.
Inspiration
The monotetra is a poetic form developed by Michael Walker. A monotetra poem uses quatrains (four-line stanzas) in tetrameter (four metrical feet) for a total of eight syllables per line. Each quatrain consists of mono-rhymed lines (so each line in the first stanza has the same type of rhyme, as does each line in the second stanza, etc.). The final line of each stanza repeats the same four syllables. This poem can be as short as one quatrain and as long as a poet wishes. I have just included two stanzas as that seemed to work for my subject.
Process
Oh, the headlines of 2020! While reading some news headlines, trying to decide which ones to click and read, I saw this one https://flip.it/_1i5av“Ivanka Trump Called Out By Voters As ‘Nepotism Barbie’ After She Announces President’s New Hiring Order” published by Hollywood Life by Bonnie Fuller and written by Jade Boren. I was immediately struck by how an order can have a positive or negative impact depending on how it is executed. Thus the subject of this poem was born!
Tracie’s Poem
Executive Orders
Skills-based hiring could be nice.
Since college demands such a price.
Will rich and poor be looked at twice?
Roll of the dice. Roll of the dice.
Barbie earned skills along the way.
Don’t use her name without her say.
She’s an influencer today.
For more than play. For more than play.
Your Turn
So much inspiration lies within the headlines of today’s news. Take a gander at some of them. Which headline resonates with you? Use it to get your creative juices flowing in the form of a monotetra.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
An Oral History: COVID-19 Teacher-Poets Writing to Bridge the Distance
Did you write poetry during the first days of COVID-19 school closings? Would you like to be interview for our oral history project? Click here to learn more.
WOW! That was a rhyming workout! I scanned and mimicked the Keats rhyme scheme. I got tangled in the second stanza and needed to call it quits (10:40 p.m.) I loved this invitation to write, and I love eating sweet corn out of the field 50 yards from my house! Today was day two of my two-week binge.
Ode to Sweet Corn
If ever there was goodness, it is you–
As fresh as cloud-peaked sun, as sweet as morn,
Each bite is long lost summer déjà vu.
I praise the mystery of fresh sweet corn.
The husks pulled back reveal your pearls in rows
Arrayed with golden hair of fairy child.
I marvel at your wholesomeness, your way
Of leaving mouth and teeth and tongue beguiled.
I walk into the field and surely know
That Iowa is heaven, row on row.
The season of content: a July day.
The wizened seed’s an ugly shrunken thing.
But add some dirt, and sprinkle it with rain–
And magic fills me from the sole to crown.
The miracle of farming once again
Transforms a speck of nothing in the spring
Into a meal that’s worthy of a king.
From sweet corn sustenance and faith are grown.
Whoops! Posted to the wrong day!
“CDC Horrified After Discovering Existence of Thousands of Public Pools” – The Onion
The joys of summer – a cool dip.
Flimsy lounge chair placed near pool’s lip.
Lifeguard reaches for a cool sip.
A family trip! A family trip!
Wait, this place is overcrowded!
“This is not safe!” Someone shouted.
“I’m not scared!” Another flouted.
Judgement clouded. Judgement clouded.
Let’s work en masse to stop the spread.
Masks will help, the scientists said!
Fools don’t care. They have been misled.
We mourn the dead. We mourn the dead.
I started by laughing at the lines, but by the end, a sorrowful sigh. This truly sums up so much. “They have been misled.” Is especially hard-hitting. Still, I love the imagery of that summertime pool – a bit like a petri dish!
Mo and Tracie, Thank you again for introducing me to a new form! Tonight I layered my search for joy onto the monotetra form.
Today my New Yorker came and I saw they had reprinted Shirley Jackson’s haunting story “The Lottery.” If ever there was a time to think about this story, it is now. Who will we sacrifice? Which ones of us are Tessie, suddenly no longer laughing and wiping soapsuds on our aprons?
Such thoughts were heavy on me tonight as I approached the poem.
Monatetra 2020
Where does a joyful person hide
When school demands I come inside
While virus rages multiplied?
I must abide; I must abide?
This virus turns me inside out.
Alfalfa sprout and sauerkraut?
When nothing fits, the rhyme wins out.
Remind me what we care about.
Allison, the change in punctuation from the semicolon to question mark is powerful. The touch of levity with the alfalfa sprout and sauerkraut was so unexpected, but then your last line brings us right back into thinking about what’s most important to us. Well done!
Allison — I will go back and read “The Lottery” again….it’s been a long time. Somehow, just knowing stories that connect old woes to current woes gives me a sense of hope that although things cycle ’round, it also means we do move. But let that movement not be foolishly into harm’s way. I so want you to be safe…and maybe that means abiding a deeper call. The virus is indeed turning “me inside out” as well. The front page of the morning’s Post-Dispatch shows an idiot in aggressive stance in an adjoining county defying the face mask requirement outside a store. Missouri seems to have an abundant supply of nasty and self-centeredness these days. I just want us all to do the simple acts of kindness–keep safe, stay safe, care about each other. You are such a dear one.
And…I chuckled ad the “alfalfa sprout and sauerkraut” winning the rhyme…LOL!
Now, I have to think about an ode for today’s 5th day of July prompts. Hmmm. Susie
I will not read the news this week.
I cannot wade in waters bleak.
Instead, I’ll fill my time lazing by a creek.
Well, maybe just a peek. Just a peek.
I will not read the news today.
My former promise I did betray.
However, from this I will not stray.
Keep the hurricane at bay. Keep it at bay.
I appreciate the wisdom in your poem, Laura. Some days it’s a really struggle to watch or read the news. I love keeping the hurricane at bay.
I love that the prompt today encouraged you to read a headline for inspiration and yet your topic is to avoid doing so. Just perfect!
When you truly can “not read the news this week” and “not read the news today” it feels so much better!
I loved this line: “I cannot wade in waters bleak.” Its rhythm, metaphor, and sound all work. I found myself relating to “just a peek”! (Famous last words…)
Laura — Talk about a poem that resonates with my own lunatic behaviors…I know to distance myself for my own sanity, and yet… “just a peek.” My friend’s dr actually prescribed that she not watch the news for more than some X number off minutes, as it was messing with her heart. She’s elderly and has a pacemaker…but still… this is, as you so aptly put it, a “hurricane.” Alas. My favorite image is “waters bleak.” So spot-on. Thank you, Susie
I like the feel of Dr. Seuss, and hoping the hurricane will bring rain.
Being in the House of White
telling everyone what is “right”
his ignorance is shining bright
He does not know, he does not know
Making announcements
without doing research at all
sharing tales that are tall
he cares for some, but not for all
our country bleeds, our country bleeds
he wants us back to teach
we put our arms out to reach
students who want to seek
be sure to vote, be sure to vote
Amen, Seana! I totally love this message. I especially appreciate the image:
You can bet I’m VOTING!
Yes, our country is bleeding. Voting is the answer.
Awesome! Well put! Especially love “He cares for some, but not for all”
Seana, I especially love that you break the rules with that last line–so bold! I picture your words like a dystopian children’s cartoon with your inverted syntax and word choice. Thanks for sharing!
House of White
SO much layered meaning in these words…
[Note: I fell away from this form…but…well, heck, it is what it is. Susie]
FREE STUFF
Quaker Oats held green glass treasure
back then, fine dishes a measure
of lives that spooned bits of pleasure —
Mama knew nothing of leisure.
The IGA gave reference books;
tome by tome, we learned knowledge brooks
no fools. Dig in and read! Gadzooks!
So much to learn while Mama cooks.
Our summer sparklers, lightning bugs —
holiday lights without the plugs;
sassafras and mullein, the drugs
when more required than Mama’s hugs.
An easier, simpler time – that’s fair;
the truth, it mattered, Mama cared;
we held each other’s hands, we’d share;
tonight, for free, my heart is bared.
by Susie Morice©
Susie, this is splendid! What beautiful memories of a simpler time when life when we seemed to be more in the moment. I was in a communal pen writing workshop in Blue Ridge, GA two weeks ago and the facilitator wrote about the green oatmeal glasses and her memories being able to be the one to fish it out each time. Such sweet memories in these days of oatmeal surprises and non-plugged Christmas lights and lightning bugs in the summer! What a peaceful feeling reading this.
Susie, this is the perfect summertime poem. I found myself nodding away as I read your words. Even though our memories aren’t exactly the same, they are just as sweet. I’m super impressed that you managed to rhyme gadzooks!
Susie, that first stanza oozes with nostalgia (all of the stanzas do!) and is a good reminder (now more than ever) to go ahead and use the nice dishes! And what a lovely send off: “tonight, for free, my heart is bared.” Thanks for sharing!
Susie,
I am back with you all those years ago because of your precise description!
Quaker Oats
fine dishes
reference books
Mama cooks
summer sparklers, lightning bugs
sassafras
I see all of this so crystal clearly!
Just amazing!
Susie, this is lovely. You used the bones of the form, and then followed that tug that a writer must follow.
This feels to me like a poem of reconciliation, of making peace, of grace.
I LOVE your final line. Your poem invited me to crawl inside and experience a part of your life. Thank you.
Hi Susie, I didn’t get back to read last night so I’m late responding. I love any poem (especially this one though) about memories of our mamas and childhood. So much to love. My favorite stanza:
I love how the bugs become the holiday lights and sassafras and mullein had enough power to be stronger than Mama’s hugs. I know not of these things due to my life in the city. It’s beautiful to imagine your childhood. Even more appreciated too is “an easier, simpler time.” Lord knows we need it.
Gorgeous trip down memory lane in your ode today! Who cares about form? ?
Hugs!
No teacher that I know would say
They want to spend another day
At home where they’ve been forced to stay.
Alone, away, alone, away.
You see, we love what we do best,
And so we find it hard to rest.
Uncertainty has us depressed.
We are stressed. We are stressed.
But when we start another year,
And that time is drawing near,
If we are to persevere,
Hold us dear. Hold us dear.
Yes, Katrina — Hold you dear. Indeed. This is beautifully expressed. The sense of worry and the desire to be the teacher you were meant to be… the sense of the tugging is very real. What a godawful position in which to put teachers… and students…and our families. Thank you for this tender poem. Susie
Thank you. I cannot tell you how therapeutic writing these poems, reading your poems, and discussing our poems is.
Thanks so much, Katrina. i feel the same way. This is like a healing zone. Susie
Katrina, your refrains are wonderful. Part of my frustration and nervousness about the coming school year is that we aren’t being held dear. You’ve captured so many thoughts, feelings, and emotions of the teachers I know.
Mo, I had a laundry list of gripes to air and demands to make. I hope my forecast is wrong, but I feel like we are headed into the perfect storm of woeful underfunding, lack of preparedness, and a hopefully once-in-a-lifetime worldwide crisis. But as Emily Dickinson wrote of hope, “sweetest in the gale is heard/and sore must be the storm/that could abash the little bird/that kept so many warm.”
Yes! The final refrain – hold us dear – says it all. Well, all except for all the rest of the poem that also says it all. You’ve really captured the struggle here: we want to go back but the uncertainty and the stress make it difficult. It would be easier if we felt that others held us dear. Thank you for this.
The truth is I want to rant and rave on Facebook. Instead, through this gathering of minds, I am learning to put my feelings to (I hope) constructive use.
Oh, Katrina. Your words are heartbreaking and tear-inducing. You summed it up. The line “uncertainty has us depressed” is so simple, yet organized my thoughts for me instantly–thank you for that.
Katrina or should I say Mind Reader?
And so we find it hard to rest.
Uncertainty has us depressed.
We are stressed. We are stressed.
This stanza is exactly how I am feeling!
If we are to persevere,
Hold us dear. Hold us dear.
These closing lines truly echo how all we really want is to be respected and given some grace during this strange time.
“Hold us dear” should be the rallying call as so many of us will be returning to unsafe conditions this fall.
When my students write something especially profound, insightful, or lovely, I tell then “WIWI” which means “Wish I’d Written It.”
Katrina, WIWI!
“Naked Athena” wears nothing
But flesh as protest is something
Lady Godiva is blushing
Nakedness, sends them all running
This is a clever quatrain. “Flesh as protest” is certainly something and I love how you bring in Lady Godiva. (In fact, there was a great article about this in the LATimes that also compared her to Lady Godiva.) The last line seems especially evocative to me: I read it as suggesting that our vulnerability can triumph. Here’s hoping Naked Athena helps bring attention to what’s happening in Portland.
Love this! “Flesh as protest” excellent!
Yes, I’ve seen this in the news the last couple of days! “Nakedness, sends them all running” They hide behind their guns and batons, but she needs nothing. She is bravery personified.
Flesh as protest is great!
Tamara,
Not sure where your mind was when you were composing. Not sure it matters, right? That is why I love poetry. We each benefit from the poem…maybe differently, but still.
Raising two daughters, I have many discussions about body image and society’s double standards about skin and dress codes and so forth. Your poem really made me think about all of that and more.
But flesh as protest is something…
The Forgotten
When they took all of us away,
On that dreadful and tragic day.
When the headlines came your way,
You helped. You decided to pray.
They sent us away! They sent us away!
From our families, we were torn,
Because this isn’t where we were born.
Hearts bleeding – a prick from a thorn.
Helpless and alone we did mourn.
We are not thorns! We are not thorns!
You saw pictures of us in a cage.
And for a while, you did engage.
So many with hearts full of rage.
But swiftly we were all sent backstage.
We are still here! We are still here!
Monica—You have voiced what I have so often thought. Their story has been pushed to the back burner. Your refrain says it all. We are not thorns. We are still here. Powerful poetry here!
Monica –You have truly captured the plight of immigrants. Your ending “We are still here!” is heart wrenching!
Love this, especially the final lines; they have unfortunately been swept backstage.
Crushing truths! Thank you.
Your poem reminds me how quickly things have been changing in our world. There is so much sadness in your poem.
Monica,
These lines are so heart wrenching!
“From our families, we were torn,
Because this isn’t where we were born.
Hearts bleeding – a prick from a thorn.
Helpless and alone we did mourn.”
Oh Monica, what a statement about our society, and our ability to forget yesterday’s news too quickly. “But swiftly we were all sent backstage” — “We are not thorns! We are not thorns!” Heartbreaking. I read it several times and saw something different each time. Beautiful
Quiet Time
Who needs a ringer on their phone
When it’s so nice to be alone
Space to ponder an ageless koan
Quiet time, quiet time
Watching the birds on my patio
And that squirrel – where’d he go?
Deep inhale, let it go
Quiet time, quiet time
Sharon—I wish I could feel the peace you communicate here. “And that squirrel—where did he go?” Says volumes about your mood. Do you give lessons?
Sharon — I love the relaxing tone of your poem. “Quiet time” is certainly what we can all use from time to time.
The repetition of “quiet time” really grounds this poem and makes the form stand out. I think we all can use a little quiet time.
Sharon, I read your poem after just having searched AirBNB for a quiet retreat. Your poem convinced me that a getaway is just what I need!
My favorite line: “Space to ponder an ageless koan.”
Sharon,
“Deep inhale, let it go
Quiet time, quiet time”
These days, I am trying!
So… this turned out to be much more cynical than I expected, but I decided to just go full in on the cynicism. Though it’s far more than I actually feel, I have a sense that maybe I needed to let some of this out. For context, I just read that our Ministry of Education has decided that teachers do not need any personal protective equipment to go back to the classroom full time in September. I was, ahem, not impressed.
The Ministry of Education talks about teachers
Teachers are a dime a dozen.
They get sick, we bring some more in.
There’s no reason for their dudgeon.
Bring some more in; bring some more in.
Who says they need those PPEs
to keep them safe from this disease?
No teacher gets those guarantees.
They’re employees; they’re employees.
And while we meet safely, online
we’ll tell the teachers they’re “front line”,
that classroom teaching is designed
to help mankind, to help mankind.
Tell them that, though school is scary,
online classes were temporary.
Now we know that they are very…um
necessary (yes!), necessary.
Workers need to be productive.
Children need to be instructed.
Our plan is purely reconstructive
Don’t obstruct it; don’t obstruct it.
PPEs are too expensive.
Teachers mustn’t be apprehensive:
If we provide them no defences,
It’s inoffensive; it’s inoffensive.
Th’economy must be maintained
Leave it to teachers to complain.
Did they expect us to explain?
Their loss; our gain. Their loss; our gain.
And if a few good teachers die?
We’ll sigh on screen, we’ll dab our eye,
Then we will find a new supply.
And who will cry? And who will cry?
The parents must return to work
So we’ve explained that teachers shirk
And PPEs are simply perks
Get back to work! Get back to work!
I’m shaking, Amanda. How can this be? The second to last stanza scares me because I think it may be true. I love my job, but I don’t want to die to do it. I sure hope things change for you by September. And your poem isn’t too cynical. I think mine would have been in all caps!
Thank you for sharing your response. It had me shaking, too – I was really worked up as I wrote!
You nailed it so well. Please post this everywhere online. More people need to read it.
Thank you. Your response gave me the courage to put it on my blog!
Post! Agreed!
Wait! You’re in Canada? I thought the response there has been so much better than in the US (where I am). Now I’m really depressed. It’s absolutely sickening the way some people are talking about teachers now, and you’ve captured that perfectly in your poem.
It *is* better here, frankly. Our numbers here in Ottawa are enviably low & there is, I suspect, significantly less risk for us as we head back. That said, the idea that we don’t need any protection – especially after we just moved to “phase 3” reopening (gyms & bars!!) – makes me nuts. And most of the people insisting that we return have not yet returned to their own offices. Sigh.
This is our reality! I retired this year because of Covid—and I am glad I did, but so afraid for my friends. This should be shared far and wide! What? Canada? I assumed they were better than that. Your poem nails it, over and over.
Amanda, this part right here – – makes us think how possible this could really be in 2020:
And if a few good teachers die?
We’ll sigh on screen, we’ll dab our eye,
Then we will find a new supply.
And who will cry? And who will cry?
Unfortunately, nothing seems so far removed from the realm of unbelievable anymore, does it?
My sentiments exactly! Do you mind if I copy this and send it to my daughter, a teacher, who is getting very stressed about all of this now. She is very afraid of being exposed to the virus. She works teaching digital photography in a computer lab at high school and has 36 students at a time. Always cleaning equipment and cameras.
Please feel free to share. I also edited it & posted it on my blog if that’s easier: https://persistenceandpedagogy.com – whatever works. We’re all in this together, unfortunately – crowded into classrooms & praying for the best outcomes.
Amanda — this is the sad truth and you’ve really captured the fear we all face. I imagine this dose of cynicism was therapeutic to write.
Oh Amanda…so sad, but true! Not cynical, but passionate! Yes, needs to be posted for all to read.
It’s horrifying because it’s true. Remember in April when parents and the public were singing our praises, saying we deserve raises? Never ever would I’ve imagined it would come to this where we seem to be expendable.
Your poem is a masterpiece!
Dang, Amanda — This hammers my sense of what teachers are being asked to do. You have captured the teacher thrown under the bus. OMG. Heaven help us. I appreciate this harsh voice…even if it is “more cynical” than you expected…it IS WHAT I THINK ABOUT EVERY DAY. Thank you…this is validating. Susie
Thank you for writing what so many of us are feeling.
“Bring some more in; bring some more in.”
This line made me so very sad.
Yes, teachers are servants of the community but not martyrs, which you remind us about here in these lines.
“to help mankind, to help mankind.”
“PPEs are too expensive.” Wow!
This entire stanza…
“And if a few good teachers die?
We’ll sigh on screen, we’ll dab our eye,
Then we will find a new supply.
And who will cry? And who will cry?”
What does this all say about our society? Your poem captures what will be recalled as an embarrassing moment in history!
I am glad you had a chance to vent because it is well deserved! I am hoping you stay safe.
Civil War 2020
In camouflage armed men proceed.
Attack civilians, make them bleed.
A civil war is guaranteed.
See clear, take heed. See clear, take heed.
Portland now, is your city next?
This president acts with no checks.
Claims incompetence as pretext.
Lives are objects. Lives are objects.
People are pawns in this chess match.
Black and brown skin, the first dispatched.
Soon for us all, no escape hatch.
Do not detach. Do not detach.
Rise up! Announce we must remand!
Against this menace, take command.
Join with your neighbors. Shout! Demand!
Lock hand in hand. Lock hand in hand.
Denise, the lines, “This president acts with no checks.
Claims incompetence as pretext,” and, “People are pawns in this chess match.
Black and brown skin, the first dispatched,” are so sadly true. I appreciate your warning and your call to action. Thank you.
“Portland now, is your city next?” So ominous. Every day when I wake up and check the news, I hold my breath wondering what fresh hell awaits.
I am so afraid. Lock hand in hand, indeed. We must, but how? If only I thought that locking hands could change things.
Denise — love this line: “People are pawns in this chess match”. It certainly is the reality of our world today. The ending line: Lock hand in hand. Lock hand in hand — paints a picture of hope which we could all definitely use right now.
Denise — I thought about this all day long… the SS storming into our cities. My beloved niece lives in Portland, and the sense of Gestapo there is very, very real. What has our country come to!? You captured my gasps. “Rise up! INDEED! Thank you, Susie
Yes! We were both taken aback by the violent responses in Portland. Chicago is next. And listening tonight to the news, I am amazed that these enforcers can be anonymous. Really? I like how your poem ends with the hope of hand in hand. Well played.
Do not detach. Do not detach.
Denise, this is such a great reminder.
America has got a plan!
But where is its attention span?
Into Breonna’s home they barged.
Still no one charged, still no one charged.
They shot her dead, they said, “Don’t sob,
It’s just a small part of the job.
These things happen.” Hear their laughter?
Black lives matter. Black lives matter.
It’s never time to talk about
The deaths that make us want to shout.
Don’t mention blue-attired bigots
Just the riots, just the riots.
Justice is blind and MIA
Unmarked vans taking you away
You hear the sounds of war drumbeats?
In Portland streets. In Portland streets.
Alex,
YES, that is my frustration!…”But where is its attention span?”
Absolutely!… “Justice is blind and MIA” I loved the “MIA” use in place of words!
This is stuff fictional action films about bad are made of; it’s NOT what the United States of America is supposed to be about! “Unmarked vans taking you away”
A hauntingly good poem. Alex!
Where is its attention span, indeed? Your last stanza is very powerful and a little scary. I can almost here those drumbeats.
Such powerful words! It’s crazy to see what our country is becoming. Sadly, I think it’s always been this way except now the orange clown has normalized bigotry.
These lines “It’s never time to talk about / The deaths that make us want to shout.” I could feel myself get so frustrated just in reading the truth of that – it made me want to shout! The attention span comment is also so true and so hurtful to all of us. As we say, until it hits us close to home, it’s hard for people to understand the full gravity. I wish we were collectively better at being human than this poem honestly portrays.
The attention span is that of an unmedicated 13 year old with ADHD. There is so much going wrong that each thing gets shifted back and back. It makes me think of the prescient poem—“and then they came for me.”
Alex,
This poem crushes me because it is so true and so very scary. “You hear the sound of war drumbeats/in portland streets” — Wow! This is so surreal it is hard to belief it is truth.
Apologies to My Husband
Today, I was determined to
Be an optimist. It’s past due.
I’ve been Oscar-Grouching beau-coup.
Not fair to you. Not fair to you.
(I tried. Really. I did try.)
It’s not your fault the world’s too hot.
You didn’t choose this Covid rot.
It’s not your fault we tied the knot.
(…well, you did have something to do with that.
But it was a really long time ago.)
We’re all we’ve got. We’re all we’ve got
You didn’t cause my lack of sleep.
You snored while I was counting sheep,
(Quietly, though.) I think I’ll keep you–
At least this week. (at least THIS week).
My mood erupts from deep inside.
I just can’t take this s#$t in stride.
Is this the life that’s been prescribed?
I’ll step aside. I’ll step aside.
Groundhog Day is not my style.
I cannot face it with a smile
There’s just too much; our world is vile.
Let’s stop a while. Let’s stop a while.
Have a re-do and start again.
But right this time. Without the pain.
Let’s halt the forge of hateful chain.
Forgo the games. Forgo the games.
Perhaps we can find unity
Perhaps, rebuild community.
Give hope to those in misery.
Eliminate the lunacy.
Please, eliminate the lunacy.
But, back to you and me, my dear.
I haven’t been the best, I fear.
I’ll lighten up the atmosphere,
Focus on us. On us, right here.
Because we are all we’ve got, you see
Which is more than enough for me.
G.J. Sands July 2020
Tracie and Mo–you’re killin’ me!! Again, a challenge! Where do you find these obscure and wonderful forms? I was trying to be positive today, on three hours sleep (for no reason) and insufficient window AC. (By the way–you can’t buy a new one, so don’t try…). But once I started writing, I descended into malcontent again. I wish I were the noble sort, but I’m not.
Thanks for the wonderful mentor poems you have offered, and keep the challenges coming. They’re a good distraction. (I tried to maintain the form, but my free-writing soul took over in spots)
Gayle, I love how you just made the form your own! I kind of want to see you Oscar-Grouching beau-coup. Your Groundhog Day reference hit the nail on the head. Isn’t it interesting how our writing often takes us in unanticipated directions? I really enjoy your writing.
As far as the formats go, we literally sat on my patio (6 feet apart) and Googled poetic forms. We specifically looked for ones we weren’t very familiar with because that’s how we roll. I remember vividly many days in April looking at some prompts and thinking I couldn’t do it, but most of the time I did. If not, I was cool with that too.
That was a good day, Mo!
Yes, I feel like I need to apologize to my entire family. I love this stanza:
I am in love with your parenthetical commentary approach! The way that interrupts the form just made me laugh out loud! And this is SOOO true – the emotions and frustrations and repentance and acceptance – ugh! This poem is an emotional roller-coaster of truth. I also like that on the repeated phrase, you inserted an extra word to give a new or emphasized meaning. That’s a cool technique in and of itself.
Gayle, I love your intentional deviation from the form enough to make it your very own with your interjected thoughts and comments. This is conversational and so relatable. Oh, you speak such truth!
Well done, Gayle. Like something from Hamilton. Favorite lines: There’s just too much/our world is vile/Let’s stop a while/Let’s stop a while/Have a re-do and start again/But right this time/Without the pain.
YES! How I wish!!
Gayle — these line –“Groundhog Day is not my style/I cannot face it with a smile” — really resonant with me. It does feel like the Groundhog day! I really appreciate the frank honesty of your poem. Some days we just aren’t our best selves and it isn’t any one’s fault it is just is what it is.
I love your parenthetical comments. I can certainly identify with your insomnia. I think it is a side effect of the pandemic.
Gayle, I feel like I got a glimpse of what a terrific person you must be from this poem. You are so funny and kind and real and smart. All the things!
I enjoyed the shift from the start of the poem where you “can’t take this s#$t in stride” any more to the end of the poem when you turn your attention to what truly matters most, what will help you get through this “lunacy”, your very special relationship with your partner.
And then there is your post poem rant, which I might love even more, “I was trying to be positive today, on three hours sleep (for no reason) and insufficient window AC. (By the way–you can’t buy a new one, so don’t try…). But once I started writing, I descended into malcontent again. I wish I were the noble sort, but I’m not.”
I am just cracking up!!!
The parenthetical comments make this poem a humorous standout. I notice, too, how as the parentheses disappear, so, too, does the humor and the intimate focus. Perhaps the form itself provides structure as you comment on the unstructured world beyond our homes? Whatever it is, it really works.
Tracie, your poem is a great model for this form which could be intimidating. From your example, I decided just to have fun with it.
I wrote this in the parking lot of Urgent Care waiting to get a Covid test. The wait was 2.5 hours long. I expect (hope) for a negative result. I checked the New York Times daily to get my news brief for this poem. This is a totally new form for me, but I liked how it worked out. I never thought I would us the T word in a poem, though.
Portland, OR vs. Trump
July 21, 2020
American progress gets in the way,
Black Lives Matter, protestors say.
“Go to hell,” Trump said yesterday.
Let your flags sway. Let your flags sway.
He sends troops to the city.
His defenders aren’t pretty.
They beat, spray, hiss plenty.
Things get gritty. Things get gritty.
Whose Constitution did he read
as he makes innocents bleed?
Do we think we are freed?
It’s about greed. All about greed.
First of all, Margaret, I hope and pray that you get negative test results! I can’t tell you how impressed I am that you can write such a wonderful poem during such a stressful time. Your refrains are almost haunting. The repetition really drive home your thoughts.
I love that you and I picked the same headline (reading the same newspaper online!), and yet came up with such different content. This is a good example of how even choosing the exact same prompt piece can yield such unique approaches. I also like the near-rhyme on “plenty.” And the word “hiss” – such a great sound word and reflective of the kind of attitude we are seeing displayed before our very eyes. (I also hope your test is indeed negative!)
Wow, Margaret, you must have been in the right head space to get a poem written like this while waiting for a COVID test. Nevertheless, praying for favorable results and you can exhale. This poem speaks to the pain I also felt this morning. So much wrong with what we live through right now that it almost becomes difficult to believe it’s real.
I feel it in my soul.
Thank you for sharing this today.
I read your last stanza in reverse and it still gives the same gut punches:
“It’s all about greed. All about greed.
Do we think we are freed?
As he makes innocents bleed?
Whose Constitution did he read”
And do you think he can read?? I don’t. ?
Margaret—it’s all about greed. Your last stanza sums it up. As does the first stanza. Masterful.
Boy, Margaret — I totally agree…GREED…well, that and perversion and dementia and hubris and… well, you hit a nerve for sure. The repetitions are so effective, taking me to the images….”flags…” Oh man! Good stuff. Susie
Margaret,
Fingers crossed you are virus free!
What a dedicated poet you are to have worked on it at Urgent Care!
“Go to hell,” Trump said yesterday.
Just reading this line makes me so embarrassed. What leadership is it to speak like this?
Whose Constitution did he read
I ask this far too often these days.
“Whose Constitution did he read?” Great line. I’m sorry to hear that you were waiting to be tested & crossing my fingers that the results are negative. I can only imagine how frustrated (angry?) you must be to use the T word in a poem!!
Farmer McNally
A farmer named Fred McNally
grew MaryJane in the valley.
The amount scored quite a tally
but the Sheriff snuck up in the alley.
Let it grow! Let it grow!
He took away all his crop.
Whacked him a bop. Said to stop.
Start raising pigs eating slop
and work twice as hard non-stop.
Let it grow! Let it grow!
Mary Jane helped relieve the pain
of low income and no more gain.
The valley provides the right rain
so the farmer will plant again.
Let it grow! Let it grow!
I bet a lot of people were sorry to see Farmer McNally switch his product! This was a fun one, Susan.
Susan, Fred needs to move to Colorado before he plants again so he can be in harvest compliance. No naturalist wants to see organic crops destroyed :). Fun. Love your rhyme scheme and your refrain. Kind of reminds me of The Lorax movie song. I’m hearing the tune…..
Love this!! I am so glad Maryland is a legal state now. let it grow!
? I’m happy for the farmer!
Aren’t there bigger crimes to concern the damn sheriff?
Leave Farmer McNally alone already!
Not sure if this was your intent, but your poem made think about how many pain suffering patients benefit from natural remedies from people like Farmer McNally versus dangerous highly addictive chemicals from big pharma. How the former is illegal and the later isn’t. Why? Greed. So frustrating!
Mary Jane helped relieve the pain
of low income and no more gain.
Well, today is a day when I want to step back from the news a bit, so I went with a silly poem about a silly headline.
Designer Christian Cowan Called Khloe Kardashian Out for Selling a Dress He’d Loaned Her- InStyle
To wear a mask? COVID-19
Chicago’s crime is all I’ve seen
Gloom and doom around a vaccine
Oh, what a scene. Oh, what a scene!
But wait, such a frivolous mess
Khloe Kardashian stole a dress!
Her net worth 40 mill, not less
Life of excess. Life of excess.
The post was there on Instagram
Thirteen K a dress, not a scam
Christin Cowen said it’s a sham
Shame, shame Madame. Shame, shame Madame.
The frock was a runway sample
Décor for her bosom ample
Not more merch for her to trample
Bad example. Bad example.
Mo,
I am thankful for a break from the serous side of the news that you provide in your poem!
“But wait, such a frivolous mess”
This line is hysterical as it provides a perfect transition from the serious to the not-so-serious nature of the poem’s subject. The way you word it is sarcastic because you know to some pop culture fans this is truly tragic news! (God, help us!)
“Life of excess. Life of excess.
Shame, shame Madame. Shame, shame Madame.
Bad example. Bad example.”
These lines had me reading them while shaking my head and making a tsk, tsk sound like an old lady angry about something petty like a child’s ball landing in her yard.
Just perfect, Mo!
Full disclosure- I took a little poetic license and changed the price of the dress from $1,300 to $13,000 to fit my rhyme!
I hadn’t heard this news, but I can’t say that I keep up with the Kardashians. I love how you worked the rhymes. Certainly “Life of excess.” What a shame! Clever!
Mo, I wish I could post myself laughing right now!!! Thank you! ??
Aaaah, Mo, after feeling all serious and worried, your poem came as a total smile and a giggle. I needed this! I think we should all go out and steal a dress! LOL! Hugs, Susie
The Curve Didn’t Flatten
Curve didn’t flatten rather it zoomed
It’s being reported, “we opened too soon”
So now it’s back to sit in my room
Isolated so long, I now talk to the moon!
To stave off this virus that seems to shout
“Wear masks at all times, when you go out
I’m waiting to getcha by laying about
on doorknobs and counters I’ll give you a clout”
Is six feet enough or should it be eight
to distance ourselves just to be safe
But I miss my friends, will this never abate
So I hide in my room, reading poems I make
Judi, your word choices like zoomed, isolated, getcha, and abate really help to highlight the frustration you (and all of us) are feeling.
To stave off this virus that seems to shout
“Wear masks at all times, when you go out
I’m waiting to getcha by laying about
on doorknobs and counters
Judi, I enjoyed the sing-song nature of your words though the actual message of the words themselves is serious.
It reminds me of the old school children’s rhymes like “London Bridge is falling down”. They sound sing-song, but the words express events that are terrifying.
It represents how perhaps because we are sick of the monotony of quarantine and mask wearing and sanitizing everything that we are getting a bit too relaxed thereby empowering the virus once again.
Takeaway? Don’t just listen to the melody. Listen to the words too!
Oh my goodness, Judi! You really nailed it when you say “I’m waiting to getcha by laying about.” Those words make this unseen monster really come alive and ready to attack. That’s how I feel about it, too.
“Reading poems I make” such a clever ending to this lament about isolation. I never thought it would go on this long, but people are idiots in general. Mask up!
You captured everything most of us are feeling with your beautiful poem. At first, the rhythm gives the perception of a light tone, but as I read, your word choice slowly reveals the despair and helplessness we are all feeling. Beautifully done, my friend!
Tracie and Mo,
So much gratitude for the way the form inspirations have helped me find new words and rhythm. And there is such a lovely symmetry and bond that I have felt each day with the other teacher-poets here (and you two) in the mirroring of form–like my verse is being validated and reciprocated with every successive poem I read. Such a gift these past few days have been — indeed, there is sorrow but also comfort.
Sarah
I am the grateful one for the opportunity!
have helped me find new words and rhythm: YES!
such a lovely symmetry and bond: YES!
my verse is being validated and reciprocated: YES!
a gift these past few days have been: YES!
there is sorrow but also comfort: YES!
Thanks for your kind words and for creating such an amazing forum, Sarah!
As I continue to wrestle with my surprise retirement from teaching (long story – blame COVID!), I keep hearing the refrain from a children’s book, Going on a Bear Hunt…thus the title here 😉
Can’t Go Over It, Can’t Go Under It
All that was true is now no more
Cannot return to time before
Saying farewell hurt at the core
Paused at the door, paused at the door.
So unsure, and scared to admit
No clear ideas, only tidbits
Like kids’ bear hunt, courage commit:
Must go through it, must go through it.
Dreams in the dark give a soft clue,
The way is forward, that is true
Think of it as a sweet redo
Trust in the new, trust in the new.
Maureen, what a hopeful poem in your situation. I love the courage, resilience, expectation. These monotetras are really lovely to read aloud. I really enjoyed reading yours today, as I am in a transition this fall too. Thanks!
Maureen,
SO much to unpack here in this little poem!
First, I love that you are equating the big kid decisions you are making related to this pandemic/your retirement with the little kid decisions made in this well-known children’s book.
Why?
Because this HUGE challenge is so HUGE and powerful and scary that it has reduced us to being vulnerable young children without any control over our lives.
“All that was true is now no more
Cannot return to time before”
It is easy for us to advise youngsters about moving on from painful experiences and to let go of the past…that is until it happens to us as adults! Then, it is not so easy!
“Like kids’ bear hunt, courage commit:”
How often do we tell our youngsters to face challenges like the first day of school, or sports tryouts, or musical auditions and simply say, “Don’t be afraid.” As though summoning such necessary courage is so simple! It’s not! We see that now.
“Trust in the new, trust in the new.”
And what is the hardest thing for kids to feel these days? Probably trust! This generation knows disappoint every time they turn around: friends betray their secrets, parents separate their family, their heroes and idols commit crime…yet we tell them to trust that things will be okay. Again, as if we even follow our own advice here!
I think that is why I felt a special connection with my students from this past school year. We were not categorically separated as adult and child during the pandemic. We were simply equal partners going on a bear hunt together.
Maureen, your poem gave me all the feels. Your first stanza is so sad- I genuinely teared up! The second stanza shows us your trepidation and determination. And the idea of a sweet redo is just beautiful. I want to keep telling myself to trust in the new!
I love the use of the bear hunt as a metaphor for this virus life. I hear a sense of hope in your final stanza, “The way is forward, that is true…Trust in the new, trust in the new.” I hope retirement brings you new adventures that you never imagined.
Maureen—I began reciting the entire thing, and how true—Can’t go over it. Can’t go under it. Gotta go through it. I retired unexpectedly for the same reason. I am having trouble with this going through thing. :-/
Thank you, Tracie! Today’s prompt pushed me yet again. Maybe I’ve just slipped into a lazier writing space lately ?but I’m appreciating the pushes. I enjoyed your prompt and of course “Roll of the dice. Roll of the dice.” is perfect for your topic.
Judgment Day
Will we find peace on stolen land
Bones of natives in sinking sand
Chains remain where your statues stand
America, America
You never kept your freedom creed
Upon your soil we cry and bleed
From ripened wombs you killed our seed
Land of the free! Land of the free?
You kill because we take a knee
Pleading and shouting, WE CAN’T BREATHE
But Judgment Day shall come, you’ll see
no Liberty, no Liberty.
©Stacey L. Joy
Thank you for your positive feedback, Stacey!
Now on to your gripping poem…
“Chains remain where your statues stand”
How can a single American not understand this to be true?
“Land of the free! Land of the free?”
Your decision to use an exclamation point and then a question mark here justifiably demands attention, an explanation!
“You kill because we take a knee”
And this line depicts the insanity of people trying to justify hateful behavior over a peaceful, nonthreatening act of LEGAL expression!
I again have to give credit to this Monotetra format. It seems to have forced talented writers like you, Stacey to seek the perfect words to efficiently pack the most punch, leaving nothing more to be said, making room instead for ACTION!
And your concluding statement..a warning, a threat, a reality if you believe in the afterlife, karma,
ju-ju…whatever. You better hope you were not a hateful person in this life because you will NOT be receiving “liberty” from consequences! (Think Dante’s Inferno, yikes!)
“But Judgment Day shall come, you’ll see
no Liberty, no Liberty.”
Oh, Stacey,
Thank you so much for your rich and valuable poem today.
That says it, right there.
Thank you for sharing this word today. We need to be preparing for Judgment Day and start bringing heaven to earth today.
Every word of this is so powerful, Stacey. In my mind this poem pairs well with Kwame Alexander and Kadir Nelson’s The Undefeated.
Thank you, Mo! I love The Undefeated!!!!! Honored to write something that brings their phenomenal book to mind.
This poem brought up lots of emotion. America is really going through some changes and I hope this will bring liberty and freedom. It’s so sad that America “never kept your freedom creed.” Your poignant poem brought tears to my eyes.
You never kept your freedom creed. We certainly haven’t. Will there be Liberty? I hope so. Strength in thoughts and in words here, my dear!
Thank you Gayle. I’m suggesting they’ll see no liberty on their judgment day. I’m not being merciful. LOL.
Will we find peace on stolen land/Bones of natives in sinking sand
Powerful, heartbreaking, humbling words. Your poem moves me and I think, “Lord, what we have done. What we have left undone.”
Oh yes, Stacey — You did it again! Another slam-dunk doozie. I’m so impressed with how this screwy form (which, to save my soul, I could not find the lines) really delivered your poem beautifully. The ironies! Oh yeah! “Land of the free!?” Perfect punctuations you used there! Way to go.
My fave:
I’m so glad that you wrote this “Judgment” … you bet! Susie
OCD Brain
In my head I have this tune
Dang, this ditty must leave soon!
Call me crazy as a loon
By afternoon, by afternoon.
Lord, let thoughts give me a rest
Such a nuisance, such a pest!
Why put me through this? Such a test!
When I’m so stressed, when I’m so stressed?
Be still, oh noise inside my head
That keeps me wide awake in bed
Replaying every word I’ve said
Bring sleep instead, bring sleep instead.
Nancy, I can SO relate to the inner voices that never shut up even when it’s time to sleep!
Call me crazy as a loon
Why put me through this?
Replaying every word I’ve said
These three lines literally are my every single day. It’s exhausting! You explained it perfectly in this poem!
May you find silence… ; )
Nancy, I can completely relate! Well done.
This is almost every night for me:
“Lord, let thoughts give me a rest
Such a nuisance, such a pest!
Why put me through this? Such a test!
When I’m so stressed, when I’m so stressed?”
I don’t want to be this way when school starts or my students will wonder why I’ve aged so much over the summer instead of coming back all refreshed and dewy! Lord help us.
Thank you for the comfort of your poem.
I wonder how many of us, especially us teachers!, are spending the summer with this same phenomenon! Know that you are not alone. Enjoyed this so much!
So relatable! I think the monotetra form really works well for your topic. I read the first two stanzas quickly, like the words were zooming around in my head. But your third stanza slowed me down. Maybe it was the W and S sounds. Your refrain is a plea that feels so gentle to me.
a post covid city
does coronavirus threaten our superstar cities?
what would the post covid city look like?
is this an opportunity for redemption?
will we continue to work from home?
cities are remarkably resilient
not destroyed by pandemics of the past
though this time may be different
now that we can work from home
cities generate economic output
with high real estate and labor costs
and the presence of information technology
will we continue to work from home
what is the downside of a non urban world?
Inspiration from “Coronavirus Threatens the Luster of Superstar Cities”
by Eduardo Porter
Jamie,
I so appreciate this inquiry question. I think about science fiction a bit these days as the “what if” genre. The genre invites us to imagine if in the near or distant future, often drawing on the past. This question of urbanity (a word?) is so important — we depended on access to library, trains, post office, restaurants, police and fire departments all within blocks. What privilege came from this? What is the alternative? What will be lost/gained if we turn away from Cities?
So much to think about here — I see this as an amazing inquiry project with students.
Sarah
Jamie,
You pose such interesting observations and thought-provoking questions.
This one, “what is the downside of a non urban world?” is really staying with me today.
I see so many positives about the ability to work from home, but it is important to anticipate and prepare for the negatives too.
What a fascinating conclusion to a poem, a huge open-ended, exploratory question! Thank you for this thoughtful piece…stretching me. “Will we continue to work from home?” One doesn’t even have to live in a city to get the work done. In so many ways, for many businesses, this would be a plus for efficiency and work effort (no tiring commutes!), I should think – though I cannot imagine it for schools! What will the effect be on cities? Fascinating!
Jamie, I love the questions you posed. All of us think how the pandemic has had such a negative impact on people and the economy, but I’m not sure how much we think about place. This morning I ran an errand and drove past a huge shuttered movie theater. I wondered if they will be able to recover and reopen. If they don’t, then what? What will become of the building? The land? How will it be used? It started a chain reaction for me. I started looking at all kinds of businesses and wondering the same thing. Our entire landscape may change. I don’t know if it will be for the better or worse. Anyway, I am glad to be back home now!
I have to echo Sarah’s sci-fi connection; “a post covid city” makes me picture some futuristic world, only now, all of those shiny skyscrapers are vanishing. I hope we decide to plant a lot of trees and affordable housing and healthcare centers and schools and…oh the possibilities! Thanks for posing such thought-provoking open-ended questions!
PRIORITIES
Oh my! Is it my turn to cook?
I’d rather sit here with my book.
No! Don’t stare and give me that look!
So, yes, I’ll get in there and cook.
What shall we have to eat today?
No time, dear, our fish to fillet.
I don’t care what you have to say.
I’m fixing the fish my own way.
See the time it’s taken to cook!
I wonder if they get that crook.
He was hiding down in some nook.
Oh, what? I’m back to my book.
Anna, Were you in my living room last night? Lately, I have been doing all the prep work and then setting the burner on low so that I can return to my book. My partner keeps having to call me back to the world and sometimes mushy pasta and scorched veggie patties.
Sarah
Ah, the lovely humor and lightness of your verses (and a book!) made for such a pleasant read. Thank you. You “cooked” a nice fillet here to nibble upon.
Kevin
Yes, Anna! You captured the exact situation I have experienced so many times as a mom!
There you are involved in your own fantasy world, the world an author has so creatively invented for you, only to be abruptly torn away to make a meal. A MEAL!
Who cares about food when you are aching to know what comes next in the plot!
But oh that real-life scene we know all too well,
“No! Don’t stare and give me that look!”
Hello, Anna! What a fun poem and so very relatable. I usually don’t get stuck in the book I’m reading, but I can walk away from the kitchen and never go back. LOL. Thank God for timers.
I can walk away from the kitchen and never go back
SO funny!
Haha! It always happens right when you’re at the BEST part of the book! I hope your fish was “off the hook”! And did they find the errant crook?
Clever journey from reading back to reading, via the kitchen. 🙂 I love the surprise of asking about crook and then we realize you are back to reading. Sweet and funny poem today!
What a fun poem, Anna. I’d like to recommend Door Dash to you 😉
Anna, as always I love your poems. The title on this one is simply amazing – – and the priority is so true. Reading over cooking every day! Right on!
If you’re not a Star Wars or Margaret Atwood fan, the first two stanzas won’t make sense.
On icy planet name of Hoth
Your face would freeze to take it off.
A long, black coat proclaims you goth.
You’re someone else if fabric’s lost.
A piece of cloth, a piece of cloth.
A handmaid’s bonnet carefully placed
May keep eyes off, but makes eyes race
Vision blocked to slow her pace
Ideas of freedom can’t be replaced. .
Cover your face, cover your face.
So small a thing when first it starts.
Not a threat, consider it art.
Back to normal, life will restart,
From public rules we won’t depart.
Star over heart, star over heart.
Dissension brings us to decline,
Left or right, the margin is fine.
November looms, a hard deadline.
Will stars and stripes from our cloth shine?
This cloth is mine. This cloth is mine.
Nicely done with the weaving of the current political landscape with two fictional landscapes (dystopian with a hint of hope).
Kevin
I agree with Kevin about how well you wove “the current political landscape with two fictional landscapes”!
Does art mirror life? Does life mirror art?
This line, “So small a thing when first it starts” is so meaningful. The power we as humans assign to things truly determines so much!
Argh! Just as I was about to type my comment about weaving, I see the other comments! Really nicely done.
If I could get back in and edit I’d change the last line of the third stanza.
Cloth star over heart, over heart.
Wow, Skillful and frightening. Thank you! (This cloth is mine. Whew)
Thank you Tracie and Mo, it’s been a challenge this week, to be sure. A headline that jumped out for me was “‘Invictus’ was among John Lewis’s favorite poems. It captures his indomitable spirit.” I incorporated some words from ‘Invictus’ by William Ernest Henley, and some of John Lewis’s words, as well. I still don’t know how to figure out stressed syllables and put them in order!
John Lewis
Racism’s scars and stains knew he.
Bloodied, unafraid, fighter free
Forging Beloved Community
Gift of esprit, Gift of esprit
The ‘Conscience of Congress’ is right
Which others will take up his fight?
Remain hopeful, not take to flight
Even at night, Even at night
The menace of his later years
Just one more foe he had to clear
Remained unconquered through our tears
Courage not fears, Courage not fears
John Lewis, determined tower
The unbowed master of the hour
Strong, but gentle as a flower
Rest in Power, Rest in Power
I never knew that – what a lovely connection a powerful poem and man – your last stanza echoes Henley – determined tower, unbowed master – rest in power – you found power in simplicity
Denise,
These lines
I had not known about his early years with MLK and how he maintained nonviolence in his work even though he had been so beaten — his heart and resolve was incredibly resilient. I keep wondering how to be an activist without my body. Is it possible to do it remotely?
Sarah
I think we can act, Sarah. A PBS free webinar series just started today: “Tools for Anti-Racist Teaching.” In the first hour, educators Bettina Love and Julia Torres and others discussed racism and anti-racism. The next one is on the 23rd of July.
We can sign petitions, make phone calls, recruit voters, make donations. Check out Joy Kirr’s Live Binder, especially the RED tab: https://www.livebinders.com/play/play?id=2536936
Gift of esprit, Gift of esprit
Even at night, Even at night
Courage not fears, Courage not fears
Rest in Power, Rest in Power
Denise, Thank you for your words of appreciation! I am so happy to have found this writing community!
I adore the last lines of your stanzas. They on their own tell the life story of John Lewis!
Denise!!! Standing ovation over here all by myself! You have honored John Lewis in this poem and most definitely he’s smiling on you from Heaven. So much to love because you crafted a perfect piece.
This is my favorite because you showed us his mastery, his gentleness and his power!
Outstanding!
What a beautiful focus for your monotetra poem – John Lewis! You have many powerful words herein; I love every final line – the repeated clause – the very best. They read like mantras – prayers, even. Beautiful! Thank you!!
Your final stanza works beautifully to honor John Lewis, determined tower. I also love Invictus and that you used it to inform your poem.
I’m reading later in the day and see that most of the responses already have pointed out how well you’ve captured the legacy of this dear man. The lines that so remind me of his determination to do right is the way you write
Racism’s scars and stains knew he.
Bloodied, unafraid, fighter free
Forging Beloved Community
Thanks for honoring this strong, determined leader.
Denise, I really wanted to be positive today, so I almost wrote about Lewis. I’m so glad I didn’t now. Your poem is a perfect tribute and masterfully crafted. Also, I didn’t bother with stressed and unstressed syllables- it was enough for me to count them!
Denise, you hit a grand-slam home run with this one. I absolutely love the way you tied Invictus lines into this powerful poem about John Lewis. I’d love to share with one of our Social Studies teachers who takes students on a field trip to Selma every year and would be sure to credit you, with your permission. Each year, we march across the bridge (I go whenever there is an open spot) and stand in modern-day historic spots and view the footage of events against the backdrop of present day. This poem could inspire similar poems. It’s genius!!
Oh, Kim, of course you can use it. I’m honored. I’m getting chills thinking of the day your students take that trip and see the name on the Edmund Pettus Bridge has been changed to the John Lewis Bridge.
Zoom Meeting
Lean to light–rays drape high cheek bones;
Shadows move– glares suck eyes like stones;
Subtle nod– smile in shaded tones;
wi-fi drops, alone; wi-fi drops, alone.
The phrasing of the first lines here are like surfing an ocean wave … little syllabic handoffs …
Kevin
Sarah,
This new way of collaborating via Zoom or whatever platform is quite an “art form” in and of itself, isn’t it?
As if the challenges of communicating effectively and graciously are not enough, now the sound and lighting have to be just so, making even “meetings” feel more like stage productions.
And then there is this “special” surprise that happens when you least expect it, “wi-fi drops, alone; wi-fi drops, alone.”
You absolutely painted an accurate picture of this now widely shared experience.
Now there is something we can all relate to. So many great images. “Glares suck eyes like stones” is one of the best. Eyes are so important, and eyes are lost on Zoom.
How I smiled at this! Just last night, right in the midst of important words, the screen froze and the insightful words were gone for ever “wi-fi drops, alone; wi-fi drops, alone.” Ah, Zoom! The blessed curse.
This brought a smile to my face. I need to get better at caring about these things. My husband usually travels quite a bit for work, but hasn’t been on a plane since mid February. He spends ALL DAY now on video calls. He’s contemplating buying a Ring light for his home office, which just cracks me up!
Sarah, all these tips and tricks to look better on camera — I need them all! I love your topic, and it’s especially reminiscent of our Covid times. So true when the wi-fi drops (which is often here) – – I sure know the feeling of your last line!
It took me a minute to realize the topic—so cool. “Glares suck eyes like stones”—threw me off, because it was so morbid. I felt better at the end!
I was really shaken by the story of one of our Federal Judges who lost her son to a shooting on Sunday. How many times have my teens gone to the front door to receive a package? It’s such a normal thing for my household.
I know people who work with Federal Judges. The story of how this killer was deep into the men’s rights movement and used terms heard on right-wing radio and TV sicken me. I believe, our president has emboldened those with extreme views to act–which also sickens me. The story is at: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/19/nyregion/shooting-nj-judge-esther-salas.html
Headline:
Husband and Son of a Federal Judge Are Shot in New Jersey
Judge Esther Salas was home but not wounded in the shooting at her residence in North Brunswick, according to an official.
It appears progress was the fuse
for misogynist hate-filled views
and a son’s murder—fatal bruise
in today’s crush of crisis news
A federal judge has survived
first-degree attempt on her life
by right-wing rights-for-men deprived
butcher with no respect for life
your words cut referring to the killer as a butcher – I think that is the power of this form with the 8 syllable lines – nice implementation
I somehow first read your first line as
It appears progress was a ruse
which, alas, might also be true …
Kevin
Linda,
I have been so absorbed in writing that I have not seen the news of late. I am outraged here, and your words are so powerful to call it what it is and to draw attention to the toll of COVID-19 and BLM rhetoric — we cannot talk about lives lost alone. Those numbers are nowhere near the calamity of the ongoing pandemics. The “butchers” will persist, and no vaccine will cure it.
I am angry, but your writing is beautiful.
Sarah
I agree with Jamie that the Monotetra seems so simplistic, but its efficiency can be so chillingly powerful for a topic like this senseless tragedy, and you made it all gel so well!
“butcher with no respect for life”
People cannot pick and choose what lives deserve their respect!!!
Such a well-constructed message, Linda!
Yes, this was horrifying, terrifying news for me, as well. Your words are powerful – especially the way you open, “It appears progress was the fuse/for misogynist hate-filled views” – unbelievable that this was the root cause, the thing that inspired this evil man. He truly was a “butcher with no respect for life.” Thank you.
That first stanza with words fuse, views, bruise, and news set this poem up to gut punch. I have never feared for my mother-in-law’s life so much as now. Covid could kill her, but she is a female judge living amongst right-winged crazy people. I just can’t fathom the distress of this judge and mother.
What a horrible story. Your word choice is deliberate and brutal. I like how you say it like it is.
Linda, this murder is absolutely sickening, and you are right to use the term butcher for the killer. My heart breaks as I think of the grief that this family is experiencing. You bring an important headline to the forefront and the rhyme scheme and flow – and word choice- are so on point. You made this all work and flow with such impact.
Linda — This news story rattle the daylights out of me as well. The anarchy of the scenario is dumfounding. You used all the words that made this so real: misogynist; hate; right-wing rights-for-men’ butcher; fuse…. These are all wicked elements in a society fun amok. Oh man. You really captured the horror of this. Susie
Tracie, thank you for another fun new form today! It’s neat how you were inspired by a current event and told it in your own way – and it gives us ideas for using current events in the classroom to encourage students to write creatively. Love the Barbie reference!
Thank you for investing in us as writers this week.
I Know a Place
I know a place where lovers go
in wintertime to feel the snow
who love fresh air and balsam pine
and sweet red wine, and sweet red wine
I know a place where good friends go
on autumn days when breezes blow
who love crisp leaves and crackling pine
and dry red wine, and dry red wine
I know a place where families go
on warm spring days, trails to follow
who love to hike among the pines
and dry white wine, and dry white wine
I know a place where teachers go
in summertime when cool springs flow
who read and write and sip and dine
on sweet white wine, more sweet white wine
This is so sweet (and dry, and fruity)and fun and light. I love the comparison of different wines to seasons. Reading this makes me realize I forgot to repetition in the last lines of my stanzas. I was so focused on the 8 syllables! I want to write another more like this–like you have written. Thanks for the mentor text.
Sipping the words of your poem …
Kevin
Love your comments as much as your poems, Kevin!
Kim’s poem does make me want to crack open my wine fridge!
Kim,
I am so grateful to have been embraced by this writing community! I too am glad you are finding use for the poems this week!
A fellow wine lover!
How clever to connect so many of life’s greatest moments together by seasonal appreciation and wine varieties!
Without being overt, you have also allowed me to hear and see and smell each of the settings of your stanzas.
These lines especially bring me joy…especially on yet another unseasonably hot day.
“in wintertime to feel the snow
who love fresh air and balsam pine
and sweet red wine, and sweet red wine”
Beautiful!
Kim, this is luscious! Is it too early to pour my glass of dry red wine? (It’s 10:41 a.m. here)
Magnificent choices in wines too!!
Just adore it all but this is my delectable choice:
I love this poem because it is so refreshing! Just what is needed now. Thank you for describing those wonderful places where we all long to go. Then there’s the added wines. Yum! Perfect. Oh! I almost forgot the feelings you evoke with the seasons and descriptions of fresh air, breezes, and cool water.
Take me to that place! Lovely and welcome after reading too much news.
Kim, so many times when I read your poems I think, “I have to go to Georgia!” You always make it seem so beautiful. With the addition of wine you’ve made it irresistible!
Oh, Kim. I needed this beautiful seasonal ode to wine. Lovely. And sweet. And happy. Yes.
Kim — This is lyrical. It reads like a song and begs for the chords that carry this eloquent tone like music. I love this. The use of the lighter vowel sounds… “sweet white wine” and “crackling pine” … I need this place. Thank you, Susie
I love your seasonal wine selections!
It’s not too much, unions demand,
to review options in the plan,
even if we don’t understand
the twist turns of this fragile land
I am ready/ I’m not ready
of masking up, of space between,
of anxious teachers, broken dreams,
of quiet fret; we’re not machines;
the unknown becoming routine
I am ready/ I’m not ready
(So much for following the rules …. this is as much about the Florida teacher union suing the state as it is about worrying about my own school district’s plans)
Kevin
Kevin, this is horrifyingly real:
of masking up, of space between,
of anxious teachers, broken dreams,
of quiet fret; we’re not machines;
the unknown becoming routine
Those broken dreams are truly the haunting part…..it brings to mind all the newbie teachers who won’t get to feel what teaching is really like straight out of the gate into their first year. Oh, how sad. I hadn’t really thought of it until I read your verse today.
I really feel that “I am ready/I’m not ready” refrain. The weeks before my division decided to go Q1 all virtual I was literally nauseous with anxiety. And, I do worry about the kids who need to be safe in school not at home. These headlines really get to me. I admit to being guilty of “doomscrolling.”
Kevin, I formatted my poem in the same way that you did. Thanks for the inspiration. The “I’m not ready/I’m not ready” line standing out on its own was has so much more impact!
You’ve captured the thoughts spinning in every teacher’s brain right now. Will life ever resemble the normal we’ve come to know?
Kevin,
I so appreciate how I am learning through poetry about the news across our country. The repetition is so meaningful here with the slash — punctuation is artful here — I see it with the semicolons, too. Indeed we are not machines.
Sarah
Kevin, you HAD to break “the rules” of the Monotetra here because doing so accurately represents the mixed bag of emotions in your teacher head!
“I am ready/ I’m not ready”
I completely related and even got teary eyed over this line because all of the ticks I normally use to connect with my students are now off limits. I am scared. I feel like an inexperienced teacher though I have been in this profession for 27 years!
“of anxious teachers, broken dreams,”
And finally there is this hard truth which you managed to capture with your usual efficient prose,
“the unknown becoming routine”
That is a powerful refrain. I’m totally with you on this one — ‘I am ready / I’m not ready.’ And I don’t know what to do about it.
Kevin, no need to apologize. You’ve taken poetic license and articulated so succinctly the quandary parents and teachers are in right now.
I am ready/ I’m not ready
Thanks!
Well done, Kevin. This is my reality every day. I’m also a union rep and my phone has been blowing up with so many questions and concerns. It’s frustrating that there are so few answers.
I am ready/I’m not ready – this is exactly my feeling right now. People ask me what I’m hoping for & I don’t even know what to say. What I want is to go back to how it was – what I want is to be safe – but that’s not going to happen. I know for sure that I’m glad that I’m not making the decisions, but then… I kind of wish that they would at least *think* about the teachers: “of quiet fret; we’re not machines,” indeed.
Exactly, words so true…I’ready/I’m not ready.
OK, Tracie and Mo, you are not letting up this month! I’m off to study the headlines along with meter, tetrameter, quatrain, monorhyme, etc., etc. Thank you for the challenge. Tracie, I love the two perspectives you shared in your quatrains. I especially liked that point in the article that it’s unfair for Barbie to be compared to Ivanka. She “has earned skills along the way” and is an influencer. As always, you have supplied a model that encourages us to do good work on our own poetry after reading yours.
~Denise
P.S. Thanks for all the comments you left today on this week’s poems, Tracie.
Agree! I just couldn’t give yesterday’s challenge the time required….but I’m SO IMPRESSED with those that did. I love seeing the creativity here and the generous time in commenting. It inspires me to do the same for my students.
Linda,
One of the MANY things I love about this group is the flexibility.
Write when you can. Comment when you can.
No pressure.
The end.
Denise,
Glad you are finding this week challenging and beneficial and enjoyable!
I am too!
It is a gift to be allowed to read the poems here. So fun to comment and to read others’ comments… to peek at their thoughts as well.
I am already sad July’s five-day #OpenWrite is coming to an end!