Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
Our August Open Write Host
Jennifer lives in the mitten state where she’s been a Literature and English teacher for over thirty years. She loves working with middle grade students as they are fun, curious, and still embrace their own quirkiness. Jennifer is a frequent 5 Day Open Write and #verselove participant and host, a contributor to the Writers Who Care blog and the BlinkYA blog, and a member of #booksojourn.
Inspiration
Words are beautiful and have rich history. They have sound and mood, meaning and layers. Just as musical notes add mood and tone to songs, words create atmosphere in poetry.
We write to inspire, to discover, to bring into existence, and to play with language. Kennings do exactly that. We are word-fishers as Kevin Crossley Holland described us. And while we fish for those perfect words, sometimes we write just for their beauty. Today’s poem is meant to spark mood, to celebrate words, to layer their depth.
Process
Kennings are tight metaphors used by poets, authors, Norsemen, Jedis, and journalists to add vivid description. In Beowulf, a king is called a ring-giver, for example. While many kennings are two word metaphors joined by a hyphen (whale-road for sea), some include phrases (storm of swords for war). There’s no need to think these are only archaic expressions, however; consider the vividness of lip lock or tornado magnet.
Try to incorporate some kennings into your writing today.
- Make a list of the nouns that inspire you. How might you re-word them as compound words?
- Revisit a poem you’ve already written. Turn some of your already existing nouns into kennings. Add to their layers. Celebrate them.
- Write whatever comes to you today, wherever you find beauty, whatever needs to be explored or celebrated.
Jennifer’s Poem
Time Markers
He was earth’s first god
darkness-cracking
arrival-searer
sky swallower
grasping last minutes
in last minute gasps
She was earth’s pale shadow
a sailor of stars
and celestial waterways
a spiritual cicerone
holding the night-vessel
a shield against light-thieves
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.
Key-scratchers
and word-catchers
like us, we’re always
scribbling our way
into the edges;
We’re manic
margin-detectors,
phrase-collectors,
draft-riders working
the seams of odd-angled
verse-beams,
We gather syllable-sparks
and broken paper-parts;
we’re poem-collectors,
voice-reflectors,
tangled-connectors
painting with a blue-arc
torch-mark
Kevin
(late but still on time)
Suspended
Inertia challenged.
Losing the pendulum-pilot at apogee
(dare-driven).
Giving way to gravity
Freefall
Cable-convulsions clattering,
dangling idle, doleful.
Nature’s breath stirs the
perch-listing loneliness.
Jennifer, I did not know about Kennings before tonight! I mixed ready-known compounds with a few of my own new ones as I explored the wide range of personalities in my family of eight. Thank you for a delightful night of word play!
The
Sod-busting
Corn-picker
Crop-dusting
Weed-wacker
Married a
Word-crafting
Book-gobbler
Rough-drafting
Rule-squabbler
They had a
Fast-walking
First-borner
Boss-talking
French-horner
Her brother is an
Eye-smiling
Continent-drifter
World-beguiling
Spirit-lifter
Next is our
Mind-knowing
Goal-setter
City-going
Go-getter
Followed by a
Sunshine-sprinking
Dancing-queen
Rainbow-twinking
Math-machine
And then the
Tree-planting
Coffee-drinker
Grace-granting
Soul-thinker
Twin to the
Rock-scrambling
Thought-changer
Life-ambling
Lone-ranger
Each one
Apart-within
Our-own; their-own
A yang, a yin
Our nest have-flown
Allison, now I feel compelled to do this with my own family! I love it. You’ve just boiled everyone down to their essence.
Allison – You went to town with this family of kennings! What a cool way to sprint through a family tree… remarkable brood! The diversity of your clan is a testament to the strength and grit of your first two stanzas… of course! Beautiful family piece here! I so admire the sum… “a yang, a yin” that spells the kind of strength that threads through families that grow both big and deep. The pride here is a heart thread. Hugs, Susie
Yes, Alison, like Mo, I want to try this too! You have created a new poetry form, I believe! Each child comes through with each beautiful thought!
Allison, I want to hang out with your family – you’ve given us each personality in a tightly constructed piece. The kennings highlight their uniqueness. I love that yang-yin of the final stanza (apart-within, our-own, their-own). A fun celebration of a beautiful family!
Good morning, Allison! Ohhhhh how fun is this! I felt like I met each of these family members in person. I visualized every detail. I hope you shared this with them because it is trult remarkable and so filled with love.
This one captivated me because I didn’t expect the final line, totally thought it would be a writer, singer or artist!
Brilliant!! ????????
Fantastic inspiration today, Jennifer!
Island of sighs
Why sigh.
An island of sighs
Morning shower fog
starts to dissipate
as the breath exits.
Dismay made audible
by the expelling of air.
Aggravation boulders
sit heavy
pushing the involuntary puff out.
Wistful thought blankets
wrap around the long
escape of lifeforce.
So many reasons
why I sigh.
~Susan Ahlbrand
21 August 2021
Oh, those aggravation boulders! Your poem is full of beautiful images and sounds. I really appreciate your choice of topic, too!
Susan – Even the very word “sigh” demands a slow meaningful exhalation. This is a tone-rich poem. The images really work… the “shower fog”… I can see and feel that with the “audible dismay.” And “thought blankets” is a weighty kenning. So we’ll done! Thank you! Susie
Susan, despite the dismay and aggravation, this piece pulls at me, makes me want to sit with it and within it, and most definitely breathe along with it. There’s a finality here, an ending in that escape of “lifeforce.” Your kennings are beautifully chosen and placed!
Susan, good morning! Yes, I am sighing with you. This feels like it was written for me. Thank you!
And as I finished, I sighed thinking about the week ahead. One classroom and teacher are already on quarantine after only one week of school. I sigh.
Reading your poem I feel both burden and peace. It’s amazing how a sigh allows for acceptance of what is to then motivate action.
Hi Jennifer! I love this prompt, but time is at a premium today. I plan on coming back to this prompt when I have a little more time to think. Instead, I offer you a poem about my newly adopted and ridiculous dog, Bitty.
Bitty
By Mo Daley 8/21/21
She is rough around the edges
A little worse for the wear
With a tongue lolling out the right side of her mouth
Simply because the teeth she needs to hold it in
Are gone
She is a three-pound jack-in-the-box,
Although at her age,
She should be more of a sloth,
Conserving her energy!
How can she be so open-hearted
After a life on the mean streets of Laredo?
When she claimed us as her family
She awakened in us
What we didn’t know we needed—
More love
I want to meet this addition!!
Mo, This poem is gorgeous. You’ve honored Bitty by seeing her as she is: a little worse for the wear. Her tongue lolling out of the toothless side of her mouth is the sweet-salt image poets strive for: perfect in combining her pain/age with her joy.
Hey, Mo! I so need a bitty bit of Bitty tonight! I love the doggy poems that emerged today. Yours is a “love” and I miss that doggy love. Thanks for sharing Bitty! Susie
Oh, Mo, your jack-in-the-box is perfect. She has a precious name and a precious demeanor, bringing more love into your home. So sweet.
Mo, I adore the “three-pound jack-in-the-box!” Don’t dogs do just this – claim us and awaken in us what we didn’t know we needed? Love, love, love. Lucky dog and lucky you!
Mo, Bitty found the right family to join. I can’t wait to see pictures! You have such a generous heart. I know you all will be happy together.
And that is what the world needs more of, LOVE! ?
Such a uplifting tone. An inspiration for perseverance an hope. Our furry family members teach us about unconditional love.
Thank you, Jennifer, for the model poem! I was kind of stuck today, so I followed your lead with two stanzas contrasting / complementing each other. Thinking in metaphors is so difficult for me, but I love to stretch my brain in that way. Thank you for the push!
Summer to Fall
Glowing orb
bright in the cloud-sea
dominates these days.
With its unapologetic beams comes
beautiful blooming-bunches
a hummingbird’s rhythmic rattling at the feeder
and red squishy-pearls from the garden
bursting with each bite.
Earth-parasols offer
strategic refuge from the
glowing orb
Soon the coloring on the parasols
turn orange and red and yellow
drifting to the ground.
Harvests of the red bursting-pearls slow
Blooming-bunches bow to
the orb that glows
Rachelle,
I too felt a push today to step out of my poetry comfort zone. You’ve done a wonderful job again. Wonderful imagery like always from you. My favorite lines are “bright in the cloud-sea” and “Earth-parasols”
Rachelle — You’ve captured the images of seasonal changes beautifully. Love the images of the” parasols” turning colors and “drifting to the ground” and “blooming-bunches bow”
Rachelle, you’ve done a beautiful job of catching us up in your kennings, within the cloud-sea and the blooming-bunches. I love the image of them bowing down to the glowing orb at the end, as we sense the sleep (and rest) that is to come.
Rachelle, I love connecting to you in this space each month. Your poetry is rich and thought/feeling-provoking. I love the originality in your kennings: Earth-parasols, blooming-bunches, bursting-pearls. Your poem is sensual. Thank you.
Rachelle – Gee, this is image rich and full… so full of sun and color and a fecund sense of nature. The “earth-parasols” are really dandy images. And today specifically caught me with the hummingbirds… I refilled my feeder as a hummer almost sat on my arm he was so insistent that I restock the nectar. It is that “summer to fall” moment! . Lovely! Susie
Rachelle,
This is such a delectable description of summer. The luscious fruits, the strong sun, and the waning days that are upon us now. Lovely.
You’ve made some really strong images with your kennings! I especially like cloud sea and squishy pearls.
If you hadn’t said metaphors were difficult for you, I would have never known. You capture the shared characteristics beautifully. I also love your use of alliteration.
Jennifer, thank you for this prompt! I don’t know that I’ve ever heard the poetic term “kennings.” I’m babysitting the grandkids this weekend and time is at a premium for poetry-writing… I decided to have a little fun with the prompt.
not an ankle-biter
nine-month-old you
pulling up on me
so proud to be vertical
you
little one
are an
ankle-stander
yes
our little bottle-drinking-acrobat
mash-squish-smush-food-wearer
tongue-trilling-throat-growling-sound-maker
sister’s antics-appreciator
adult-exerciser
yes
truly
you are
a sadness-eraser
heart-sweller
time-blurrer
keep-me-in-the-moment
let-me-smooch-those-cheeks
you are
love
Maureen,
Hope you enjoyed your day with the grandkids, I’m missing mine as three have covid and the other two have been exposed.
I love the fun imagery here, I can just see they smile on the little one’s face as they’ve pulled into a standing position. My favorite line “mash-squish-smush-food-wearer” so much truth to that at this age.
Maureen, there’s nothing as special as little ones and you’ve shared everything that makes them so here in your kenning creations. They most certainly erase sadness and swell hearts. I am right beside you and this ankle-stander!
What glory there is here! You put all the feels where they need to be felt! “mash-squish-smush-food-wearer/tongue-trilling-throat-growling-sound-maker” wonderful!!!
Maureen — I love the way you’ve captured your grandbabies sweetness. Your images remind me of my own children when they were babies. Love these lines”
“a sadness-eraser
heart-sweller
time-blurrer
keep-me-in-the-moment
let-me-smooch-those-cheeks
you are
love”
Aw, Maureen, this is a really fun kenning-loaded grandma delight. Put this in the baby books!! Each kenning really animates your little one. Sweet! Susie
My first grand-baby is now a year old. Because he lives in New Zealand, I have not been able to see/touch/smell him yet. I am surviving on Facetime and Whattsapp. This line “tongue-trilling-throat-growling-sound-maker” met me at my heart.
Maureen,
I feel the exhaustion you must be experiencing w/ this wee one. Your kennings are fabulous and playful. You do an excellent job replicating toddler antics in your verse today.
—Glenda
Oh, Maureen! Big hearts! So precious.
“a sadness-eraser
heart-sweller
time-blurrer”
And those fun descriptions of her as “mash-squish-smush-food-wearer” brings back memories galore! So glad you stopped to play!
Thank you Jennifer for this fun prompt. I spent my morning working a cotton candy booth with a youth group. This poem just felt right.
Cotton Candy
A day spent with friends watching sugar become floss
Candy-clouds, sticky-sweet
Laughter-bringer, money-maker
Cherry explosion in palest pink
Bubble gum in pink
Pink vanilla in bold hot pink
Eye-catching, crowd-bringer
Maker of colorful beard
Wonderful to feel normal again
Oh, yum – “candy-clouds, sticky-sweet”! great description of this carnival favorite! Love the line “maker of colorful beard” – isn’t that the truth!
DeAnna, every one of your kennings celebrates the fun of cotton candy – my favorites are “candy-clouds” and “laughter-bringer.” A house in the neighborhood when my kids were little spun cotton candy on halloween and it had a continuous line all night – you’ve brought me back to that special fun.
DeAnna, I love all these images that you provoke through your poem. It’s so whimsical to feel normal again.
DeAnna,
The fanciful descriptions took me right to a fair–the explosions of color and even sound. A rich sensory experience. 🙂
Oh delightful! I like the whimsical eddingtons paired with “money-maker”. This was fun to read, very visual. Ah fair time!
Rain
I hear you
This morning, still in bed
Dust-settling
Garden-reviving
Soul-succor
I close my eyes again
And smile
Thank you
I love it!! The rain was a blessing today. I enjoyed the term “garden-reviving”
Lovely! I adore waking up to rain–your kennings perfectly capture why.
Beautiful descriptions of rain…I love to hear a soaking rain from my bed. Yes, I am smiling, too!
I love the thank you note format of this poem and the kennings even more. We didn’t get any rain down south, but we have enjoyed the cool and cloudy day ? (my garden and myself)
Emily, you honor the rain, such a simple but necessary thing, in a simple form (almost like a haiku) that elevates it and reminds us of its importance.
Yes, Emily, it was such a welcome surprise for me yesterday to awaken to wet sidewalks! Your poem radiates the gentle beauty of rain!
?
Jennifer. Thanks for the prompt and the sample poem. I can see this becoming a mentor poem in a STEM class where students are studying life science. This would fit with those in English studying nature stories from different cultures, too. Hmmm. That must mean you’ve done a fine job personifying these to astrological entities.
Thank you, Anna! I love when we are inspired and our brains start to tick.
wooden spoon
familiar to hand
butter blender
incorporates flour
smooths to stiff
once rolled
and cut,
popped in the oven
wooden spoon
scrapes remains
next,
enters my lips
whets my appetite
til timer rings
and
biscuits ready
Jamie, licking the spoon is nearly as much fun as eating the cooked product. But, biscuits. I don’t think so! Never thought of that. Cake, cookies or pie filling? Well, now that I’ve read your poem, I may try tasting the dough. Nah! probably not. But, your poem does bring back fond memories of standing around awaiting the time to lick the spoon. Thanks for sharing.
Wooden spoons are so awesome at “butter blender”! This poem makes me crave some yummy delicious biscuits!
Jamie, there’s something meditative about cooking. I enjoyed going through the steps the wooden spoon assists in getting those biscuits ready – it soothed and made me ready to eat at the same time – just like real cooking!
THIS IS WAR!
Prepare to die,
li’l bastards!
You looked so cute,
innocent, innocuous,
folded on your squirrelly haunches,
precarious on the snowy fir branches
of my novel xmas tree,
nibbling peanut butter pinecones,
and clucking at me,
cranberries, popcorn strung with care,
your December fare on the deck –
a scene from Currier and Ives,
garland, red bows on the trellis;
I, so overzealous,
bedecked the tree for chickadees
and cardinals, but ended up with thee;
you came to keep them company,
and you were, indeed, first one to the party —
making the best of Covid Lonely Christmas —
though perhaps a bit absurd.
But now in spring and summer
you wreak havoc, plunder,
pillage the acreage,
uninvited pruning,
damage incurred;
more a scene from Scurrier and Hives,
you morphed into pine pirates,
bat-rats, sucking the blood
from low-hung tomatoes on the vine –
my BLT foiled for supper –
then on to the cedar railing,
gnawing everywhere, honing
those ever-growing teeth,
chiseling chainsaws,
leaving the deck in sawdust shambles
for me and my lame repairs.
The storms blew you from the oak,
your ratty nest lay scrambled on the lawn,
I felt bad for your babies,
yet somehow you all weren’t gone,
still swinging wildly
from the bird feeders you hang on,
at least till I, at wit’s end, succumb
and scour Amazon for a BB gun
and a slingshot —
I am, indeed, trigger shy –
does Bezos sell BB guns, BBs?
Heck, he sells 3-D printers
and all supplies
to manufacture
high-powered weapons
in your garage; so what
of a squirrel bazooka?
This is war!
by Susie Morice, August 21, 2021©
“more a scene from Scurrier and Hives,
you morphed into pine pirates,
bat-rats, sucking the blood
from low-hung tomatoes on the vine –
my BLT foiled for supper – “
love this. I feel your rage!!!
I grinned out loud at this passage as well!
Susie, your poem is rife with powerful images and emotions. I certainly felt sorry for your Christmas tree. I love how your poem shows your frustration and humor. My husband has created some clever ways to hinder their abilities to get on a bird feeder, but a squirrel bazooka sounds like the perfect answer.Loved “chiseling chainsaws,” “sawdust shambles* and especially “Spurrier and Hives*. Thanks for sharing your clever wit and word play today! Brilliant!
Susie, you’ve captured so well the photos you posted last winter of the animals chomping on the tree you decorated and set out for a different species! Those who missed the actual photos, get the picture. Your poem truly paints the picture well.
Susie, so many wonderful lines and images! I adore:
and burst out laughing at “Scurrier and Hives”!!
Oh, my gosh, Susie, when I got to the scene from Scurrier and Hives, I busted out laughing! I remember your deck bedecked tree in the photos you shared. Who knew such havoc would follow, but those “chiseling chainsaws” had to be put to use somewhere (but on the deck?!?) – I can understand the need for a squirrel bazooka.
This:
But now in spring and summer
you wreak havoc, plunder,
pillage the acreage
I LOVE the sounds of “pillage the acerage.” Your poems are so nimble as you skip across sounds and meaning…I just love it!
I also appreciate how you imbed your “squirrely” poem with an undercurrent of reality check: Bezos/bazookas. These are dark times.
Susie,
You had me in stitches w/ this poem. I love watching the critter wars from your poetry perch snd FB posts. You know the squirrels and raccoons think you’re their friend. This is so clever, both angry and fun. What you need is two dogs to tag-team those pesky tree-climbers. That’s what Puck snd Snug do for us.
—Glenda
Oh, Susie, I never knew squirrels could be so hard-fighting! They look so cute, adding to the Currier and Ives calendar, but you tell the truth about them here! Oh, my goodness…as others said, “Scurrier and Hives, pine prates, bat-rats…” You had me laughing aloud several times throughout! Good luck with the war!
Gosh, how will this end? I watched the best scenes of the impending war and you left me hanging? Did you get the squirrel bazooka, BB gun, anything? LOL, Susie, you are a hoot! Somehow I believe you will win this war!
Loved this:
Sorry for all these squirrely shenanigans!
I absolutely loved the inspiration and process but just couldn’t get myself in the right frame of mind! Instead, this poem DEMANDED that I write it! Go figure!
My Old Underwood Typewriter
I loved the feel of those small,
round,
metal-rimmed buttons
beneath the tips of my fingers
as I pushed down on them,
engaging a particular letter,
and creating an indigo-black mark
on the smooth, white, paper
rolled neatly around the rubber platen.
The distinctive “CLACKETY” sound
as the typewriter key jumped up and smacked
against the crisp paper, and
then the final “CLACK”
as the carriage shifted
to its new location, revealing
a brand-new, virgin white spot
just waiting for my next “CLACKETY“.
The smell of the old cloth ink
ribbon spool with its worn spots,
neatly and tautly unthreading from one spool,
re-threading itself magically into the other
with every image imprinted.
Picking up speed
With an exuberant burst of
energy, creating a satisfying
symphony of sound
and mechanical movement all in-sync.
Falling in love with the typed word;
not just its definition or meaning
in context with the other written
words,
but falling in love
with the mechanical process
that was my old Underwood typewriter.
Judi Opager
April 21, 2021
Judi! I love these old typewriters and what they stand for. Such a process. I have one old one here and parts of others laying around that I use in my art assemblage. You are so correct about the smell of the ribbon, the burst of energy and the sound. That’s part of the old fashioned typing I miss.
Judi–i loved the noise and the motion and the…definity of the typewriter. you have captured this with perfection!!
Your poem is so nostalgic for me; how I loved typing on my old typewriter (and how often I have wished that I hung onto it)…this is part of the magic for me as well:
Judi, the magic of typing on an old typewriter, the lengthier mechanical process creating a slow-burn allowing one to fall for the typed word, permeates every line of your poem today. I love the sounds and the feels and all the textures.
I went back to a poem from April 4th (Allison’s prompt) when I wrote about joy-bringers during the pandemic. I’m back in the classroom with a FULL class of joy-bringers and a boat load of concerns.
In-Person Problems
Eagle-eyed focus
In our four-walled human petri dish
On masked marvels with muffled responses
And crow-footed hidden grins
Red-eyed lord of laughter
In nonsocially-distanced germ pools
Listens to little joy-bringers
As gratitude breaths fog her glasses
Glassy-eyed binge-watcher
In a fetal-positioned blob
Can’t click the next must-see or plan tomorrow’s must-dos
Without an uninterrupted night’s shut-eye
©Stacey L. Joy, August 21, 2021
Hi, Stacey — You’ve given us a window to the stress and the tug of loving those kiddos and recognizing the “germ pools” and “petri dish” of our schools. Oh gosh, this is way too real. “Glassy-eyed” indeed. It is no easy thing, what you have described! Sending peaceful sleep. Susie
I like the way the focus on the language creates distance between your words and ideas. Watching what goes on. Still a feeling of separation.
Stacey, every line of this has a fabulous kenning! You and all the teachers returning this year are truly “In our four-walled human petri dish” – I hope that you are able to stay healthy and hopeful throughout this time with these amazing kids, these “little joy-bringers.” Awesome poem!
Stacey, you’ve captured that exact dilemma that we are facing again this year: the joy-bringers sitting inside the germ pools, along with the simplest of complications (gratitude breaths fogging glasses) and the exhaustion. Sending you and your joy-bringers good health and strength.
Oh, Stacey, I love this on innumerable levels. First (of course) because you returned to your April poem! Then “nonsocially-distanced germ pools” hit my solar plexus: our guidelines are inane. I was the lone masked educator in our districts’ three-day school-prep this past week. On Monday I will live in your “four-walled human petri dish.”
Lulu
By Nancy White
She’s a tiny brown clown-monkey;
we call her Lulu-Belle.
Actually she’s a chihuahua-pug,
with a happy upturned wiggle-tail
and a muzzle that looks dipped in dark chocolate-mocha.
She cocks her head left to right, a questioning-pendulum
begging for a nibble of people-dinner.
Full of love-kisses, she lives to be a lap-warmer.
At bedtime she’s a cuddle-ball,
as close as she can be.
Lulu warms me and fills my heart with her puppy-wonderfulness.
Nancy — Each of these kennings makes me miss my dog soooo much. I need me a “cuddle-ball.” Thank you! Susie
Each of these kennings is such an adoring descriptor of your little pup! I love the “clown-monkey” and “cuddle-ball.”
Nancy, this makes me yearn for another dog (we lost ours not too long ago). You’ve gathered all those wonderful dog things (love-kisses, lap-warmers, cuddle-balls) inside your poem.
Thank you for the fascinating prompt. I’m not sure if I fit in as many kennings as I would have liked, but this idea has been marinating in my mind for a week or so, so this is what came out. Poems can be very bossy about taking over one’s brain.
As the season-of-recovery winds down to its end
there is always the question of responding to the
“What happened?” “What did you do?” and “How was it?”
that inevitably pepper the first days of reentry restlessness.
It is an expectation that persists through the
“What I did on my summer vacation” prompts
and the friendly inquiries that bridge the way back
to collegial-camaraderie abandoned between school years.
How do you explain the craziness of a season
that was filled with small and large accomplishments,
worries about traveling sons, and complicated
personal victories over worry, doubt, and fear?
When the flittering focus of one’s mind is tenuous,
instead of pandering to the promised pledge of
a filtered framework, revel in the inner joy of
knowing that once again, you survived, you thrived,
and no one but you needs to fathom your anecdotal apologue.
I can definitely appreciate this sentiment! What to share about one’s self? Enough but not too much – I especially like “no one needs to fathom your anecdotal apologies”
Cara,
You knocked it out of the park yet again. Such a fan of your poetry. My favorite line “collegial-camaraderie abandoned between school years” it just spoke to me as I read it. Thank you for sharing.
Ultimately, this is the grace we all seek, yes – “knowing that once again, you survived, you thrived,”…your poem really is so reflective of this time we are all living through. I hope that your “season-of-recovery” doesn’t actually wind down, but that somehow you are able to treasure parts of recovery in the midst of all the work and challenges ahead.
Cara, what an important message I didn’t realize I needed to hear today ❤️ I love the amount of grace you model in this piece and reminds me to extend it to myself.
Cara, our “season-of-recovery” sure is hurtling to a close. I have been internalizing those questions (what happened to the rapidity of the summer, what did I do with my brief time of recovery, and how was it, really?) It’s good to be reminded that once again, we will survive and thrive.
Slow Day
Slow day
Air sluggish
Mood puggish
Chair reclined
Naught in mind
Pups cuddled
Thoughts muddled
Wishful, wistful
Restless, aimless
COVID rears
Returning fears
Freedom waning
Worries gaining
Same refrain
Not again…
Arrogant minority
Personal priority
Vaccine security
Herd immunity…
Wishes, horses
Beggars riding
Wishes fading
Hopes subsiding
Cat on lap
Perhaps a nap
Dogs a-doze
Time slows…
Sleep away
This slow,
drab day.
Gsands 7/21/2021
Not a kenning, unfortunately. A grumble, perhaps…
I’m feeling all of this, Gayle! Great how you used short lines and rhyme. It gives the right rhythm for the “same-old, same-old” way of life now and accentuates the frustrations of “not again!” Sometimes sleeping the day away is all I feel like doing as well.
Gayle — I sure feel the concern in this poem. The “restless, aimless” falls on those thoughts that plague us…This:
I hear ya! Susie
Gayle,
Kenning or not I love the feel of this poem. I so enjoy “Slow Days” We all need those every now and then. I too enjoy doggy cuddle with my chair reclined. Hopefully your slow day will restore your energy and get you back on track.
Absolutely glorious rhythm throughout, Gayle! Really a poem to hear aloud, perhaps even to be sung or chanted. I can absolutely relate to “mood puggish.” This is great!
Gayle, your words flow so naturally here, the rhythm so beautifully, the day so languidly. And yet, there’s that undercurrent of worry. I adore the lines “air sluggish/mood puggish.”
Jennifer, thank you for this prompt! When I read kennings, my brain went to Ken Jennings and the poem was off and away…! lol
I call upon this
ink-stick to craft
a letter-vine to
entwine my thought-
worms concerning
this trial of highest
jeopardy.
Let these words
sing of Levardis
Robert Martyn
Burton Jr, son of
Erma, a man with
deep Roots who
was once a
Lieutenant Commander
of a star ship and
guardian of a
literary-Bifrost, a
humble Heimdall
helping children
navigate their
imaginations along
the Reading Rainbow.
He must word-sling,
in the form of a
question, against
Kenneth Wayne
Jennings III, a guy
who seems nice
enough and has won
lots of money, but
alas, I must bid Ken
adieu and au revoir
because my champion
is named LeVar.
Your ink-stick hood a grand job, Scott! I am hoping for a Burton Boost for Jeopardy too. Well said.
My thought-worms are are a-stir and are cheering for LeVar as well.
Kennings for LeVar –
what a cool idea! I’m glad Jennings
sparked these lines of
poetry today!
I must bid Ken
adieu and au revoir
because my champion
is named LeVar.
YES!!!!!!
Scott,
Ink-stick and letter-vine may now become my new favorite terms for a pen and poem. Thank you for sharing this light hearted fun letter-vine today.
So fun, Scott!! What a great connection, with Ken Jennings!
Scott, I love where your thought-worms traveled, taking us through the many twists and turns of LeVar’s CV. You have KenJenninged the heck out of this today. I’m Rooting for LeVar too.
Scott — love where your brain went with this poem. So fun!
Thank you, Jennifer! I’m having a hard time getting going today. I’m out of practice! Thank you for all the good examples to help, but I’ll keep trying! I love your love images of the sun and moon. I learned a new word–cicerone. “Spiritual cicerone” is a wonderful image and a super example of these Kennings you are teaching us about today. I thought of this sweet little desert bird that I love to watch in my yard in California.
<img class=”size-medium wp-image-9227″ src=”https://mrsdkrebs.edublogs.org/files/2021/08/quail-387048_1920-632×424.jpg” alt=”” width=”632″ height=”424″ />
California’s bird — wild,
But gentle as a child
Black-beard-styled
Belly white-tiled
Moisture gatherer
Ka-kah-ko chatterer
Attentive father
Scratches for fodder
Gregarious guy
Handsome and spry
Flees from a hawk
But prefers to walk
Comma Topknot
Audubon bigshot
Oops, I think we used to be able to add a photo that way…but here is the picture I tried to post: https://mrsdkrebs.edublogs.org/2021/08/21/california-quail/quail-387048_1920/
Oooh, yeah! Beautiful bird, Denise! The “Comma Topknot” is perfect. I love the description that is so careful and captures this quail. Wonderful…love me some birdie poems! Thanks, Susie
Oh, I really love this description – “ka-kah-ko chatterer” – what a special bird, Denise! Can see why it is your favorite!
Denise, your poem paints the perfect picture of the quail (though it was fun to peek at the image after reading) and that “Comma Topknot” is perfect. I continue to be drawn back to the rhythm and had such fun repeating that first stanza – it moves just as I imagine the bird to do as he walks along.
Denise — I had never heard of the Comma Topknot. So glad you included I picture. Black-beard styled really captures this bird well. Love the rhythm of this poem, especially the last stanza. “Comma Topknot/Audubon bigshot” — just love it.
Denise,
That bird is gorgeous. Love your kennings, especially the last two: comma topknot and audubon bigshot. Well done!
Jennifer,
I love kennings and inviting students to compose them, too. Your poem hearkens to those lost days stolen by time. I love the nostalgia in it.
Today I find inspiration in my favorite part of the U.S.A. We’ve been road tripping through Washington and Oregon this past week.
once more to the beach
over asphalt-ribbon twirls
our road-hugger
glides west
destination:
nirvana-karma
along the Oregon coast
we seekers of solace
stretch our souls
and reach
once more for the beach
Glenda, you’ve created some lovely kennings here. I love the first two lines and the soft and gentle images your drive conjures. I also like all the /s/ sounds in “we seekers of solace / stretch our souls” love that image of nature soul stretching us…
Your travels are so much fun to follow – I’m loving the pictures you post! I am also loving that destination – nirvana-karma in your road-hugger! It’s surprising the effect that water destinations have on our stress reduction levels! Be blessed and enjoy the journey!
Glenda — I love thinking about you wending your way up there where my Kelly is in Oregon. I miss my jaunts to Washington…I used to go there regularly…I had a dear old aunt I used to visit in Seattle. The Olympic Rainforest is incredible. The “solace” of the Oregon coast” is so real. Those sea stacks. Lovely. Susie
Your words capture the experience – seekers of solace, the images – asphalt-ribbon twirls; a photo of a memory.
Your kennings are perfect, and the alliteration makes them glow!! seekers of solace, stretching souls…beautiful!.
Beautiful little poem of travel love, Glenda! I am smitten with
I loved our travels in this same vicinity – enjoy!!
Oooh, Glenda! I want to be there with you (such a beautiful coastline), traveling the asphalt-ribbon twirls and reaching for the beach. Thank you for some solace in your imagery today – love the kennings you’ve created.
Hi,
Jennifer, you have given us a lovely prompt and mentor poem today! I love how vividly you paint this picture for me, yet it didn’t require a lengthy amount of writing. Of course, as overwhelmed as I already feel being back to school only 5 days, I want this writing time to be uninterrupted and kind to me. I look forward to what comes of this prompt for me today.
Gorgeous!
Jennifer — Thank you for introducing me to kennings. I found an old story I wrote of long ago memory and turned it into a poem. This was so fun!
Breakfast at dawn
Gravel-crunching
grandpa’s little blue Honda bumping
we arrive tumble out
groggy-eyed
just before dawn’s aurora
Unpacking mania ensues
loaves of bread, cartons of eggs
pounds of bacon
Unpacking mania ensues
trays of dough-fried sweetness
assorted puffed pastries
all perfectly packed &
stacked the night before
Dew-dappled grass tickles bare ankles
as we carry food to the pavilion
back and forth
back and forth
back and forth
the moonlight-shepherd
lighting our path
Peering from the rafters
yellow raccoon orbs
scuffle and lumber
we fumble for lights
darkness shattered
Plastic red-and-white
checkered tablecloth cracking
grandma covering the table
arranging Styrofoam cups
plastic utensils
Hickory wafting
bacon snapping
spatulas clattering
coals flaming
eggs dripping
Family gathers
coffee-sippers
pastry-nibblers
juice-dribblers
For new dawn’s birth
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting
Silent sun stretches
arms golden across the horizon deep
lingering a moment at the precipice of the Earth
catching breath before
splashing across the sky
in orange, red and yellow
bejeweled brilliance
blinding light we cast eyes away
from this Titan of light
Amazing! Beautiful! We exclaim
and nature’s songstress breaks into
felicitous chorus
and we know we will
return and repeat
return and repeat
return and repeat
for many more summers to come
Tammi, there is such beautiful movement in your words today, within the wafting hickory and family gathering. The repeated lines emphasize the movement (back and forth) and the pausing (waiting, waiting, waiting). I love being able to move through this with you.
Tammy, what fun to tell a story with this new craft tool. So beautiful! I loved especially: “the moonlight-shepherd” and “nature’s songstress” Well done!
Tammi, these lines make me feel all the family-hearted warmth of Thanksgiving:
Family gathers
coffee-sippers
pastry-nibblers
juice-dribblers
it makes me think of the picnic shelters at state parks with the pavilions – all of this comfort and love that is such a part of family tradition!
Baby
This warm-bundle
set-secure in my welcome-arms
a brand-new
life-holding bundle
of sweet-smelling breath.
Pink-smooth face
with ebony-dark eyes
wonder-seeing glances
as soft-cooing sounds
and wet-mouth bubbles
come out from teeny-tiny parts.
Reach-grabbing fingers
and a nodding-bobbing head
gain good-learned strength
from warm-tasting milk
in a full-satisfied tummy.
Susan, ahhhh…..I can feel this beautiful baby, grabbing fingers and “nodding-bobbing”. Love “life-holding bundle”…such a perfect keening to describe a newborn. Gorgeous poem!
The gift of a new child. Love the wet-mouth bubbles and wonder-seeing glances.
Love these lines: “life-holding bundle”
“wonder-seeing glances”
“wet-mouth bubbles”
I can just feel the love!
Susan, all the sweetness, the wonder-seeing, the life-holding, the reach-grabbing exists in your tiny nugget of a poem, much like the sweetness in the tiny nugget of a baby. So perfect.
Susan, your beautiful images of the baby here warm my heart. Favorite…
“life-holding bundle
of sweet-smelling breath.”
Love how these keenings draw me right into the intimate world of a sweet newborn. I love “nodding-bobbing head”, “wet-mouth bubbles” especially. Nothing compares to the “life-holding bundle” of a newborn. Love this!
Susan, those reach-grabbing fingers make me think of the photographic images that show the generational love and hand grasp when a baby arrives! Congratulations on the little bundle of joy!
So many beautiful images wrapped into a poem – life-holding bundle, wonder-seeing glances, wet-mouth bubbles.
Jennifer, thank you for this prompt. I thought this writing assignment might be a great one to use with students when they are reading the Iliad, Odyssey, or Beowulf, etc. Our long time neighbor and friend passed recently and his service is today. Your prompt helped me release some emotions. Thanks:) Barb
Goodbyes
Goodbyes should be natural
as the fire-starter
rising above star-lost clouds
on the dark east bank
its beacon of light
is like a soul-searcher aching
to follow my flight
down River Road
but this goodbye is a skull-crusher
reeling me into
a chasm of unfathomable depth
a breath-strangler
eye-mangler
soul-stealer
a morning toast with blood tea
for the ravens to feed
Barb Edler
August 21, 2021
Barb, this poem really made me feel the deep pain of some goodbyes. It started me out with the strong feeling of “skull-crusher” the came the list of other deep painful words ending in the blood tea. Oh my! What a goodbye! Hopefully the ravens will get their fill and take all that pain away.
Wow! The emotion of your words is heartbreaking, “breath-strangler” Prayers for your grief. There’s too much of it these days. Just too much!
Barb –I’m so sorry for your loss.
These lines: “breath-strangler/eye-mangler/soul stealer” — just heart wrenching. You’ve have made your grief so visceral.
Barb, you so eloquently describe the loss, and the contrast of the verses is a gut-punch shared. There’s power in your kennings (skull-crusher, soul-stealer), along with the raven at the end.
Barb, that blood tea is just the image that sparks the finality of death. I’m
sorry about your neighbor. Your reaction and emotion shows the depth of your feelings for your friend and helps us see that in this case death was not a welcoming peace as it sometimes can be after long-suffering but was an intrusion of shock and despair.
Your opening is breathtaking, “Goodbyes should be natural as the fire-starter” and the gut-wrenching pain of your second stanza quite literally took my breath away – this is what poetry is about – painting vivid pictures in the mind and you’ve done it in spades!
Oh, Barb — I’m sorry that your neighbor passed. The loss in the last stanza is really powerful through those kennings. “Look tea/for the ravens…” — oh gee, that really is a solemn image. Sending you a hug, my friend. Susie
Blood tea …. Just saw the typo… alas.
“a morning toast with blood tea
for the ravens to feed” Wow. Just wow. I know of these goodbyes. They are so very hard…
Jennifer, It’s interesting that you, a sister in the Mitten, would inspire me to write about my husband with your prompt to try Kennings. It just happens that I used Ken as his name in the novel, ON ZION’S HILL that I wrote about our meeting at church camp when were freshman in college.. Who knows how word-connections evoke certain thoughts. Thanks.
Here it is
SOUL MATE
Soul-mate
Deliverer-from-fate
Of being single for life
Balloon-popper
Ego-stopper
Yet in a crowd
You make me proud
Proud to be your wife.
With pride-protection
And inspiration-projection
There’ve been few tears
These fifty-five years
Since I became your bride.
Wow! With you as my soul-mate
Blessed early and late
We’ve really had quite a ride!
For husband, William Gerald Roseboro. His hands on my shoulders help keep me grounded but never hold me down.
Anna, what a beautiful celebration of a wonderful life together. Loved “With pride-protection
And inspiration-projection”. Thanks for sharing your photo, and I love your ending comment, too.
Anna, you two are an inspiration. I join you in celebrating these wonderful soul-mates we have had for over fifty years.
Lovely tribute to a good man. You are blessed.
Beautiful tribute to your husband and your life together. Sounds like you have a keeper! Love the picture.
Anna, that’s beautiful! What a tribute to your beloved. “Pride-protector, inspiration-projector” —what a guy! I can see how he keeps you grounded and motivated. So lovely!
Anna,
I like the yin and yang sensibility of your poem. I’m always ready to feel the feels if your love for your husband. ❤️
—Glenda
Oooh…I love that picture and
that he keeps you grounded but never holds you down. Fifty five years is an accomplishment. You are both blessed!
Beauty in every line. Love in every word. You are truly blessed – thank you for sharing your intimate relationship – it is wonderfully inspiring!
Anna — You write with love…you lucky girl! I feel that affection. Mmmm! Thank you for sharing it. Susie
Anna–a beautiful tribute. “Balloon-popper/Ego-stopper” I think I would like this man!
Anna, what a beautiful photo of the two of you, and your poem is a beautiful way to honor your many years. Your words sing (especially in that third stanza), working so well to honor your life together.
I reworked a recent “What the ____ Knows” poem.
Needle
Silver-diver poises
above taut fabric-water
dives in
perfect ten
no splash
pulls thread under
re-emerges
victorious.
Mary, I love the flow of this poem. You show the needle’s action perfectly. Loved how you tied it into a “dive”. The positivity of this poem is striking! Love it!
Ooh! What a perfect description of the dive, Mary. So fresh in my mind after watching the Olympic divers. Do you dive as well?
I love how fabric-water stretches the metaphor of silver-diver. Inspired!
Mary Lee – Love this metaphor. It is so visual, especially the image of taut fabric-water.
Mary Lee, I love the stark simplicity of this perfect poem – so many visions danced through my head as I read and re-read it. Beautiful!
Mary–spare and perfect!! taut fabric-water. What an image!!
Wow, Mary Lee. I love this beautiful metaphor of the needle diver. Beautiful!
Mary, you’ve crafted a strong kenning for needle work and maintained the metaphor throughout so beautifully. I love the image of the silver-diver. I’ve been doing a lot of slow stitching this summer and I will think of it as diving from here forward. Thank you.
Jennifer, your poem is breathtaking. Incredibly inspiring. I feel a Norseness in it, for sure!
So, mine ended up taking a direction I didn’t expect. I can see I need to play with kennings a lot more. Here’s what I have thus far…
Talisman
The pendant-keeper
opened her box of secrets
where the glass teardrop
lay gleaming amid
its snakenest of tarnished chain
so long unworn.
With fumbling fingers
she pulled the crystallized orb
back into the light
where her age-dimmed eyes
aided by touch memory
caught the opal fire
of long-broken bits
stirring again, suspended
in their waterlife
—yes, she remembered
as she encircled my neck
with her legacy.
Fran, wow! Your poem is incredibly beautiful. The imagery is so striking. Loved “glass teardrop” “crystallized orb” “waterlife” and your ending lines makes my head feel like it’s on fire! Gorgeous poem full of rich emotion, and the structure adds the perfect pace for the reader to absorb each action and image. Outstanding!
Such a wonderful poem about an inherited piece of jewelry. Swoon! I have pieces that make me feel like this “touch memory”, and the image of snakenest of tarnished chain is perfect!
Fran — I feel the weight and significance of this talisman in each stanza but the last one especially drives the importance of this jewelry home “as she encircled my neck/with her legacy” — just beautiful.
Wow, the imagery takes me right into this scene. The opal comes alive! So magical! Well done!
Fran, your title and
the wearing of the long unworn tarnished jewelry indeed help us see that legacy! The circling of the neck symbolizes the family love that is there in the sentiment and memories, as if invoking the spirit of the former wearer in the breath of today’s wearer. Beautiful – a signature Fran poem, elegant, classy, and stirring!
Such a beautiful, perfect poem! I have read it over three different times and found something new in each read – “where her age-dimmed eyes aided by touch memory caught the opal fire” – so powerful. I really loved reading it.
This pulls me right down to the story rug…criss-cross-applesauced. I love, love, love fairy tales and I’m ready to read more.
Fran, your writing always lands me into another world, places me immediately into that crafted space. I am right there as she reaches in for that sacred piece. The kennings add a timelessness that works so well with the span of time the words evoke too.
Thank you for making kennings user-friendly! I miss teaching BEOWULF this year.
Text-annotator
Encouragement-giver
Assignment-maker
Classroom-designer
Hallway-watcher
Evaluation-receiver
Reflective-learner
I LOVE acrostics – than this one is fantastic! Every line resonates with me- especially “Encouragement-giver” and “Reflective-learner.” You nailed this!
Katrina, oh, I love the kennings here! You’ve described a school teacher so well. Loved the “hallway-watcher”….we used to get lectured all of the time about needing to be in the hall. To be the “reflective-learner” shows the true teacher’s soul! Magnificent!
Are you familiar with children’s poetry author Laura Purdie Salas? She has a picture book series “Rock can be…” “Leaf can be…” and “Water can be…” Your poem should be titled “A Teacher can be…”
Crazy! I didn’t notice the acrostic form until I hit post comment! Yes!
Katrina — I started back to school this week and I can totally relate. First time back in over 17 months and many of my middle school students have never opened a locker before. I would need to add locker-opener if this were my poem. LOL!
Katrina,
I love the way you honor teaching and learning in your poem. I loved teaching Beowulf, too. It is a wonderful gateway to performance pedagogy.
—Glenda
Amen and amen! I’m so looking forward to getting back with kids…despite the nerves.
Katrina, you’ve nailed everyone of these kennings for the TEACHER. I love the idea of using kenning lines in an acrostic poem (a great way to intro this to students). And I truly love that we are reflective-learners at the same time we are all the other things!
I love playing with words. Now that we are back in school, I am also looking for inspiration for students. I plan to create an oracle deck from the kennings we post today.
Thanks for this inspiration. I went back to my journal and tweaked a poem.
River Walk
Stone walls
River runs
Wall-to-wall
bulk-headed nature
a Disney ride
Ducks quack happily
A hotel bar bustles
What intrigues here is not nature
but a hand-made tale
emerging from Depression-era wage-warriors.
I asked the boy his source of income.
He replied, “Disability. Army.”
Sweaty blond curls peek
from his ball cap. What injury
plagues his youth, sent him home
without enough to eat?
We try to contain the river-run
with stone and concrete.
All we create are
compassion-hungry hands
open to each other.
Margaret, your message is powerful, but the sobering image of this mere child gut-punched me and ripped my heart out
He replied, “Disability. Army.”
Sweaty blond curls peek
from his ball cap.
blond curls and a ball cap make me think of mother’s dreams for her little boy…and the disabled young man as a disabled hero is a wake-up call!
I was signing people up at our church’s food bank. He was probably in his 20’s, but he looked like a child to me.
Margaret, your description of this young man is so sad and rich.
“What injury
plagues his youth, sent him home
without enough to eat?”
Wow.
How fun to make a kennings oracle deck!
This poem is sad at both a human and natural level. This is my gut-punch:
“River runs
Wall-to-wall
bulk-headed nature”
Those ending lines about “compassion-hungry hands/open to each other” strike me deeply, Margaret. This boy and his cap and his sweaty blond curls are now entrenched in my mind – and they pull at my heart.
Margaret, I love the way you weave this poem. I felt like I was on this run with you, seeing the young man with blond curls, etc. Your ending is such a powerful close. Loved “All we create are
compassion-hungry hands
open to each other.”
Beautiful and poignant poem!
Margaret — the juxtaposition of images in your are really powerful! The disabled sweaty blond youth and compassion-hungry hands really tug at my heart.
What a story in this poem. I like this introduction to the boy from the writer’s wonderings. I want to know more now, too. And, an oracle deck from all that you see here today? WOW! What a great idea! Can I copy that?
Margaret, the need for food, a basic necessity, creating a line feels dystopian and you plant us into that world with the “hand-made tale.” And those last three lines! Powerful and beautiful stuff.
Black Dragon
Peace-disruptor
Robber of quiet
Mindless chatterbox
Release my soul
From your death-grip,
From your loose lips.
Remove the claustrophobic gloom,
The smothering room
of doubt, of false friends,
of invisible attacks.
Back, black dragon, back!
May the light-giver, the haven of the stars,
Back you into your cave of hauntings.
Take your fumes of worry with you—
I have no need of you,
Enemy of surrender.
Dixie, you had me at the first line and I was fully there with you at
mindless chatterbox
when, you know, that one image came to mind,
and I could hear the voice…that never-stopping voice. You nailed it with this – we all know one or two…or several…..
Hi Kim, thank you so much for the prompt and your connection to the voice!
Amen! Now if we could just stop the robocalls on the landline…
Dixie, wow, I can so relate to your poem, from the “Mindless chatterbox” to “the claustrophobic gloom”…the feeling of being with “false friends” and “invisible attacks”. Black dragon is the perfect keening to show these emotions of self-doubt, etc. Love the call for the light at the end, and your closing line was sheer perfection! Powerful poem!
Dixie — Your poem is so relatable. I really feel these lines: “the smothering room/of doubt, of false friends/of invisible attacks”.
Dixie,
Not only have you created a wonderful kenning-filled poem, but the direct address, the commands, and the extended metaphor make this a powerful poem.
—Glenda
Dixie — I really love the strong voice in this poem. I almost feel eyes squint with gritted teeth…these are words that NEEDED saying. “…smothering room/of doubt, of false friends/of invisible attacks” …YEOW! “Take your fumes”… right on! The intensity is really effective…downright HOT! Love this! Susie
I don’t know if my writing has ever been called, “HOT!” Susie! That makes me smile!
oooh! what a tone and a mood in this piece. I like it. I love that command, “Back, black dragon, back!” It calls to mind speech from long ago.
Dixie, what a beautiful and powerful piece you’ve given us today! I felt every line and word. The kennings are perfect and natural, the command is strong and hope-giving, the message hopeful and confident. I love this!
Thank you for this prompt today, Jennifer, and I hope everyone enjoys one of the last Saturday’s of summer.
Swirl-maker
Emotion-pacer
Wit-designer
Emotion-interpreter
Letter-arranger
Emotion-engager
Finger-pouncer
Emotion-spacer
Patient-repeater
Emotion-creator
Synonym-sleuther
Emotion-cueer
Lingual-multiplier
A persevering-scribbler
Stefani, your take on the many names of writers makes for an interesting and fun challenge – one I think would be good for students to do as well. I love that this spirals through emotion on every other line, returning us to what words do for us while we work to delve into interesting ways to use words.
I’m hearing myself say, “yes, we do that!”
at every line. The emotion-engager and synonym-sleuther got biigggg cheers but the persevering-scribbler got the biggest of all! Yes. Bravo! Pens up! Onward!
I’ll take a sack of each, please and thank you!
Love the repetitive focus on emotions. So important for writers/poets. And that ending! YES!
Stefani, such wonderful keenings to describe a writer! Delightful poem!
My oracle deck has gone to multiple pages now. What an amazing list. I love the repetition of emotion and that “lingual-multiplier” is my sincere hope for my teaching this year.
Stefani — Love the way you have captured the art of writing so perfectly. Especially liked the emotion-interpreter because I feel that we bare so much of our souls in writing.
Stefani,
This is a clever way to employee kennings as namer of poetry and poets. I particularly like the repetition of “emotion.”
—Glenda
Stefani, I really enjoyed this! My favorites are the “letter-arranger” and the “lingual-multiplier”!
Jennifer, I arrived here in our space parched and thirsty for inspiration, and here you are with pure water for the soul! Your mythological kennings invoke feelings of the origins of time and I love the lines “ a sailor of stars and celestial waterways” – those constellations on the palette of the sky lit my world this morning as I read your words. These are fun to write, these kennings! Thank you for investing in us as writers today.!
Sofa Snoozers
here in the
sleep-shuffled
day-break of dawn
my sofa-snoozers and I
snore-snuggle:
one a hip-chock
one a neck-roll
warm love-magnets, we three
……and I wonder:
what lucky straw-draw
crowned me a gold-sceptered
Schnoodle-schmoozer?
Ha! I love the fun and funny kennings you wrote into this poem. Have you read Irene Latham’s D-39 A Robodog’s Journey? It’s a novel in prose poems that’s full of kennings…yours remind me of hers.
And, I agree. I was thirsty for our space today!
Linda, I had a chance to read an early copy of D-39 and loved it (it’s up for our book award this year!)
Kim,
Ah, I’m feeling the “schnoodle-smoozer” comfort in this fun, kenning-filled poem. You’ve created such a perfect picture of yourself and your fur babies snuggling in the early morning light.
Kim, I love the fun you had with this. It permeates every line. Your kenning choices (schnoodle-smoozer is the best!). I want to cuddle up with the hip-chock and neck-roll too.
Kim,
What fun alliteration you add into your kennings and the “snore-snuggle” line sounds like it could be a perfect hashtag to accompany pictures of this experience. Thank you for sharing.
Love this! As you may remember, I am a schnoodle-schmoozer, too. We love to snore-snuggle on the sofa. My Charlie is also a foot-massager, sweat-licker.
Wow! A kenning in almost every line! I’m glad I chose to write/comment/post because I’m going to write/comment/REVISE/post! You inspire me! (Plus, I’m jealous of your sofa-snoozers!)
Kim, you’re a perfect conduit for kennings, with your characteristic vibrant wordplay. Magnificent sonics here – wordmusic 🙂 You are a crowned, gold-sceptered, poetry princess of pawsomeness <3
Kim, oh my, how I love the way you describe this loving nest of people. “love-magnets” to “Schnoodle-schmoozer” are delightful descriptors. I feel such warmth in this poem. Love it!
Kim — I don’t have pets but you have created such an inviting and warm image with your “sofa-snoozers” and “love-magnets” I might need to go out and get a dog.
Oh, Kim — Bring me dem doggies! I MISS dem doggies! Alas. Wonderful and tender and lucky! Hugs, Susie
Good Morning Poets. Jennifer, what a fun and interesting prompt. At first, I was trying to think of nouns that inspired me…but resorted to my notebook to pick out any old nouns. I came up with a list that was good and chose owl. I wrote about an owl I saw once on a walk in the snow. I didn’t remember that until this prompt. Thank you.
Winter Walk
So alone
almost home
so cold
so night
spied upon
a snow-sentry
bathed in street light
instinctive silence
feathered tight
No whoo, whoo, whoo questions tonight
only solitude
and knowing
snow for me
so alone
Linda,
This is lovely and peaceful. It evokes a sense of calm, which I find myself constantly seeking. Of course an owl is a “snow-sentry.”
Linda, this poem sounds great to me as I wake to a hot and humid morning. I love your play with words, meaning, and length in your line “No whoo…” and the imagery of “bathed in street light.” Thank you for sharing today.
Linda, you offer us serenity today as we walk along this snowy path with you. The solitude, despite the presence of the owl or maybe because of the presence of the owl, is heightened through the simple form and sparse but impactful word choices. The image of the owl as snow-sentry is perfect.
Linda, you stoked the fire of desire in me for the change of seasons – oh, I’m so ready for the Hygge feelings of a winter walk! I am drawn to these lines:
a snow-sentry
bathed in street light
instinctive silence
instinctive silence – ooooooh, I think he’s my spirit bird.
Love the rhymes here. I was awoken by an owl this morning. He must’ve been very close. Love “feathered tight.”
How fun that this prompt prompted your memory to surface! I love the shape of this, and the repetition of so.
Linda, I love the imagery here, the sounds, and the emotions you create. The plaintive end of “so alone” surely echoes. Loved “bathed in street light/instinctive silence/ feathered tight”…sheer genius!
Linda — I am with you on this walk. I feel the “snow-sentry and instinctive silence”. Beautiful images of a solitary winter walk!