Lament & Celebrate with Andrew Moore
Welcome to Day 2 of the March Open Write. We are so happy you are here, however you choose to be present. If you know what to do, carry on, if you are not sure, begin by reading the inspiration and mentor poem, then scroll to the comment section to post your poem. Please respond to at least three other poems in celebration of words, phrases, ideas, and craft that speak to you. Click here for more information on the Open Write.
Andrew lives in Grandville, Michigan with wife, son, dog, two cats, and a host of semi-living house plants. He is a full-time district substitute teacher in Grandville and is working towards his teaching certificate in elementary education as a graduate student at Aquinas College. When he’s not working or doing homework or playing with his son, he’s playing music in a cover band around Grand Rapids.
Inspiration
My inspiration comes from a distinct lack of good sadness, grief, and lament beside a healthy laugh and looking forward to the changes the future may bring. “How are you?” “I’m fine!” Our students, and we ourselves, need good examples of what it looks like to process everything that’s going on!
It’s okay to not be okay. And it’s okay to be honest about the things we wish were different and the things we wish to come.
Every day I ask my students “what’s one good thing about your day or about your life right now?” and “what’s something tough in your life right now?”
It’s been unbelievable the honesty and maturity from little ones.
Process
This poem has two parts, repeated as many times as you need.
- Lament
- Definitions:
- To express grief for or about; mourn.
- To regret deeply; deplore.
- To grieve audibly; wail.
- Definitions:
- Celebrate
- Definitions/explanation:
- Rejoice over something big or small!
- Acknowledge the good
- Express gratitude over something
- Definitions/explanation:
Each memory or longing doesn’t need to be related to your lament, but it certainly can be!
Lament over challenges in your classroom, in your home, in the world, or about your wardrobe if you need!
Celebrate warm vacations, your favorite meals, justice, or the contagious giggles of a 3rd grade boy over ridiculous dad jokes.
It doesn’t need to rhyme. It doesn’t need to be pretty. It doesn’t need to be perfect. Let it be honest.
Andrew’s Poem
I hate that my 3rd grader’s dad is in jail.
I love that he’s willing to share it with me.
I hate that my 4th grader’s embarrassed about things at home.
I’m glad he’s excited for the new baby in his mother’s womb.
I hate that he’s afraid to tell anyone, since they lost the last two.
He knows I am willing to be happy with him, or sad too.
My new 2nd grader can’t seem to make any friends
He’s finally getting what he needs! He won’t need to start over again!
I know my 6th grader hides what his mom does for money,
But every day he’s here he’s learning, growing, and he’s really really funny!
I wish that my students knew they were loved.
By their parents, their siblings, their teachers: us.
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.
Will you participate in #VerseLove 2022?
April is National Poetry Month. The Ethical ELA community creates a celebration of all that poetry does for our hearts and minds by offering daily writing inspiration and a supportive space to discover what happens when we write poetry all month long.
I love teaching and being in the classroom with my students.
I hate having to bring work at home.
I love that my students get along very well.
I hate to when their feelings get hurt.
I love that my students know that I love each one of them.
I would hate to for them to think otherwise.
Andrew, thanks for your wonderful prompt. This is my first day writing for this month’s Open Write and I just blurted out my feelings before looking at the prompt or anyone’s work. Guess I just had to let this out. It’s kind of dark, but I’m thinking a lot about the horrors of war. I hope to revisit the prompt later and will respond to others.
War and Children
By Nancy White
When I think or the darkest night
I think of children taken by surprise by strangers
Of explosions and red skies,
Flashes of blinding light,
Ear-splitting whistles and booms
so close you feel your guts jump and did they
spill out?
There’s a sickly metallic smell
that’s blood
and gasoline,
and unknown gasses.
You stagger as you stand and fall as you run.
Your head is dripping and your ears are numb.
Shards of window panes and twisted rebar protrude from darkened rubble,
Flames erupt suddenly left, then right.
You keep going on into the night,
The darkness swallows you and you realize
you’re holding on to your little sister’s stuffed bear.
Wow! Your description is so real. The “sickly metallic smell” and the sounds of ear-splitting whistles enliven my senses in a way that is otherwise hard to imagine. My favorite line is “so close you feel your guts jump and did they spill out?”
Andrew, thank you for this prompt. I’m so thankful for your presence here on Sunday commenting so faithfully. You and John have been great inspirations these past two days. The love and respect for your students ring loud and clear through your poem. Thank you.
Contradictions of Belief
A God of Chaos
A God of Love
A God of Jealousy
A God of Grace
How can he be both wrathful and merciful?
How can he be both lion and lamb?
How can he be both father and lover?
How can he have enough blood to cover?
How do I explain this to those who don’t know?
How do I explain this to those who already grow?
We can’t pick and choose which side to tell.
We can’t pick and choose which side to tell.
So, so true, Sydney. I loved the repetition of the last couplet; that statement is true no matter which side of God you see more!
Sydney, I’ve been thinking these same things. So many mysteries about God and I have many unanswered questions. The only way I can seem to hang on to any shred of faith is to believe that love doesn’t always look how I expect it to. And somehow love wins.
Thank you for today’s prompt
Dishes
Dishwasher full again
Call out to teen to unload
Seems like everyday
Thankful to have food,
Dishwasher, dishes, cleaner
Family sharing meals
DeAnna,
Truly, it is easy to get lost in the daily tribulations and forget how blessed we are.
So many times I catch myself complaining and then shut myself up for not being grateful for what it means I have to even complain about. Thankful, indeed.
DeAnna, you did well to find something irksome to turn into a blessing. Yes, even the regular annoyances include so, so many things to be grateful for. I thought this poem prompt was a great one today to count my blessings.
Yes, so thankful for family, a home, a dishwasher, and of course, reluctant teens!
DeAnna, so true that we can easily overlook the blessings when we focus on the everyday mundane chores. So grateful for your reminder. My undone chores can wait and now I will choose to enjoy what I have.
This poem perfectly encapsulates the tug and pull of gratefulness vs tediousness/monotony of maintenance. Thank you for capturing that.
Thank you, Andrew, for this thoughtful (accessible!) invitation.
The word “lament” drew me in, and with a little Googling, I found Percy Bysshe Shelley’s poem “A Lament,” which I then used as my mentor text.
My heart is heavy with freight-train legislation outlawing trans girls from participating in high-school athletics (Iowa), trans youth from receiving life-affirming medical care (Texas), and LGBTQ+ people of all ages from being recognized as full members of our world (Florida). O world! O life! O time! I needed to lament.
—-
Lament Upon the Spring Vernal Equinox 2022
I
O World! O life! O time!
On spring’s first day I rhyme
In knots of existential pain
For seeping hatred’s paradigm
Displayed–our nation’s stain.
II
Out of a vile need
Compassion lost to greed.
Lawmakers drove the crushing train
Roughshod upon our children’s need.
Oppression now decreed.
Oh, Allison, this is powerful. This a voice of compassion and outrage at a very wrong action that our hateful, greedy legislators have wrought upon our people. And to what end?! It’s infuriating. Every kid, be that individual trans or any LGBTQ… every kid has a mom who loves her child and that kid is no less than anyone else because of orientation. It blows me away that any legislator would seek to diminish basic human rights. Where’s the humanity? Your poem is wonderful. It’s needed! A cry for sanity, humanity. Thank you.
Allison, thank you for this cry for justice. I am appalled at the ignorance of morons in positions of power. I always wonder what these fools think will happen if they give EVERYONE equal access! Infuriating. I’m thankful for you and your voice.
It’s difficult to even respond to this, but the first thought in my mind was for the students in my classes, not yet old enough to vote, who will change this when they can. Just as the students before them shrugged their shoulders and said, “Why is gay marriage such a big deal?” It took ten years from hearing that repeatedly among youth for the tide to turn. Now I read stories my students write about getting into arguments with their parents about why pronouns matter. And I write in the margins, “Good for you!” The change is indeed before us. It will just take time.
Allison, thank you for sharing this yesterday. The rhyme does not detract from the urgency and importance of the message–it makes it that much stronger.
I’ve been thinking a lot about duality of emotions and how a multiplicity of conflicting ones can coexist. We visited the Anne Frank House and Museum today. This prompt is timely as I consider places of memory I’ve visited and how I feel a bit like a voyeur as feel gratitude.
Watchers
“It happened before. It could happen again.” —Primo Levi
past & present
commingle:
memory & experience
march lockstep:
structures time froze:
these memorialized
places: living histories
breathe & pulsate:
guiding the living into
their lives
in a secret annex
along a granite wall
through encampments:
haunted pasts the
present presents:
where it happened:
memorials & reminders
it’s happening
again:
past & present
commingle.
I wonder: Did Temple Grandin envision her cattle shoot winding maze gently tugging on tourists’ bodies and hearts. guiding them through the past in the present?
Glenda – The title is right away a sense of witness without the action to change what happens before our eyes. “Watchers” is an evocative term… great choice. I remember years ago being in Amsterdam and also in Dachau and gripped by the overwhelming realization that people watched the horrors of the Holocaust and stood paralyzed to act. Your poem cautions us to examine our histories… our “haunted pasts” that lay wide open under our noses… and still we seem impotent to stop what’s happening at our our borders and around the globe. The pull between past present… you remind us to be more than “watchers.” Powerful stuff here, my friend! Thank you. Susie
Ugh. The line, “it’s happening again” just hit me so hard after reading Allison’s lament. Sad things we humans do to one another. And animals. Your final questioning line ties in two very difficult worlds of humanity and the lack thereof. I’ve also been to the Anne Frank House, and can feel being ‘pulled’ back there in my memory through this. Nicely captured, Glenda, examined, and questioned.
Crossing the US/México border back home today, and things are heavy on my mind..
Cruzando la frontera
Leave early morning.
Lock the doors.
Send text messages.
P R A Y.
We make detailed plans
to cross the US/Mexico border –
careful about the time,
specific stops to change diapers,
packed up snacks,
new tires and oil change on the van
rerouted to avoid sudden
gunfire
between the cartel and Mexican army.
Mis niños y yo are welcomed
with love,
open arms,
abrazos,
warmth.
Y la mamá que viene del otro lado
de la frontera also
leaves early in the morning,
locks the doors,
sends messages,
P R A Y S.
She makes detailed plans
to trudge across the US/México border –
careful about the time,
specific stops to change diapers,
packed up snacks,
in search of a new life
rerouted over and over
by force,
by summer heat,
by gunfire,
by assault,
by rape,
by fear,
by starvation.
She and her children are welcomed
with disgust,
barriers,
desprecio,
hate.
Britt,
Thank you for allowing me to bear witness through this poem. I will read and reread. I will carry your words.
Sarah
Britt, thank you for this truth-telling, this clear lens on how we treat so many. Everyone – every single person – deserves this:
Mis niños y yo are welcomed
with love,
open arms,
abrazos,
warmth.
Britt, your poem is powerful and heartbreaking. The list of all the reasons one is rerouted rape, fear, starvation are all grim reminders and horrors a multitude of people suffer. The hate at the end resonates and adds a gut punch. I am appalled daily by the hate I see televised daily. Thanks for sharing your insight and provocative poem!
Wow, Britt, this is so timely right now, as there are so many Ukrainian refugees being welcomed in many places. But we fear our own neighbors “welcomed with disgust, barriers…” Like Maureen said, every person deserves the welcome you and your children receive. Thank you for bringing these people to our attention today.
Britt,
Wow. Just wow. This is such an honest and necessary portrayal of reality! This is definitely one I will remember for a long time? Would it be okay to use in class (it is that good!)?
This is such an honor, Cara. 🙂 Please do use this poem in class! Wow, thank you!
Thank you! It really is awesome. 🙂
Wow. So beautifully written. Reading your response made me cry, even the switch between Spanish and English without any transition speaks to the complexities of moving to a country and culture which says “open arms” but practices everything but… thank you for your words!
Britt, this is so painful. The repetition speaks to the lack of change in this miserable mess we’ve made of our border. Damned borders… when all we want is to love our families and find safe ways to be together. I hate the frightening part of what you have to experience. It’s so cruel, so wrong. Abrazos! ? Susie
Oh my gosh how this speaks to me! Living on the border near Tijuana I am involved with seeing food at a housing center for asylees coming over the border. I hear their stories and feel so sad to hear them but so blessed to have what I have at this side of the border. I am going tomorrow to serve some snacks and wonder how many new refugees will be there from Ukraine. What a journey they have had!
I remember how my family and I would go into Mexico for vacation. It was an easy crossing and our blonde hair and blue eyes were a novelty to the locals. How I miss those times! ou are so correct in that all we can do on both sides of the border is PRAY!
Britt, I am slow on the uptake, realizing only now that you are the same “Britt” that hosted us last month! I’d like to sign on as president of your fan club. You are teaching me and making me feel on deep levels. The irony of “welcomed” juxtaposed to disgust/barriers/desprecio/hate is a wrenching ending to this needed poem.
Andrew, you have shared the extraordinary beauty and power of great teachers, this role played in children’s lives – giving them a shoulder, an ear, a hope. Thank you for this poem!
Spinning
I lament the fritz of my mind, how I never can remember where I put my glasses,
though there is celebration in the sheer number of steps I take while searching –
a stronger body, yes?
l lament the crowded nature of today, no moments where I sat alone, immersed in writing poetry, though I did enjoy a breezy walk, hand-in-hand, with a three year old Princess Jasmine, where we were transfixed by a front yard’s plastic pinwheel spinning twirling whirling around-round-round –
a bit of magic, yes?
I lament the brevity of this
though it is perhaps
a tiny poem, yes?
Oh, Maureen! Indeed this is magic “plastic pinwheel spinning twirling whirling around-round-round”! I love the sounds of this phrase the imagery the movement. It lingers here.
Sarah
The poetry from those magic moments is everything. I love this fun and playfulness of your poem!
Maureen, I love the conversational tone of your poem and how you structured this. the repetition of “,yes” work well to close on the positives of your day.
Yes, Maureen, a poem, indeed! Thank you for writing and sharing this. I love the silver lining of counting your steps when you’re looking for your glasses in your first stanza and the “spinning twirling whirling around-round-round” of your second stanza.
Maureen, Yes!
This made me smile! “I did enjoy a breezy walk, hand-in-hand, with a three year old Princess Jasmine, where we were transfixed by a front yard’s plastic pinwheel spinning twirling whirling around-round-round”
As did your whole tiny poem!
Maureen, Paradoxes throughout here. I want to see photos if “Jasmine” in princess regalia. Love this hunt for glasses. That’s all I seen to do, and like you I celebrate the steps!
Maureen, you have given me a hopeful heart and a smile this evening. I was feeling a bit of ugghh because lesson planning took too much of my time. But reading your poem gave me a much needed lift.
I would love to have that special moment!
Maureen, you brought me into your world with the simplicity of losing your glasses, holding hands with a Princess Jazmine, transfixed by a front yard’s pinwheel. This is the stuff life is made of and the things excellent writers pay attention to. I loved reading this. ??
Andrew, you live right down the road! Your prompt today reminds us to celebrate after we lament. You model poems reminds us of the power of love that can help raise up those inclined to stay in the dumps! Thanks.
Sadness Gladness
Tears leak out when I consider the loss of a son
I loss mine a few years ago, now my sister has lost her one.
But I rejoice as I recall the fun and funny times we had,
Fond memories help us sometimes feel glad, not so mad.
We’d be mad if all we thought of was loss.
We’d be sad if we didn’t consider the cost
Of only thinking of the times they ran us crazy
For not cleaning their rooms because they were lazy!
I celebrate the family who surrounds us all
Sharing photos helps us to recall times of glee
In times of sadness, what leads to gladness is our faith that we will see
Family members once again, when our number the angels call.
I live down the road from you??
thank you for sharing! What a powerful testimony to frustration and gratefulness in the same breath. Often the ones we love being us the greatest frustrations while they’re with us and the greatest grief when they’re gone. Whether they’ve moved away or left us forever…
This phrase, “when our number the angels call” – beautiful! I love your ability to find love and hope in the midst of such pain. It is a raw, unending, eviscerating ache to lose one’s child.
Oh, how bittersweet loss can be. Thank you for sharing such tenderness and heartbreak.
Anna, I wrote a poem today that focused on photographs. I am so sorry for you and your sister’s losses. Our loved ones never leave us because we remember those wonderful moments and the bond of family helps us accept their physical absence. Beautiful and moving poem!
Lovely poem, Anna. Your last two lines sum it up!
Andrew, I loved your prompt. It made me think about what I lament but also: what to share on this public forum? My kids are growing so quickly–I lament that they are no longer small. But I celebrate that they are becoming adults and look forward to that phase!
Is it still a haiku if there are 2 haiku-esque stanzas and it’s not about nature? Probably not, but here goes:
Time
Time marches forward
Always fast in joyful fun
painful moments slow
Children learn and grow
develop humor and change
become your comfort
Chiara Hemsley
March 20, 2022
Chiara, I loved your reflection – “also: what to share on this public forum?” Thinking about this can definitely tie up one’s writing tongue! I love the idea that children “become your comfort” – so true! My three sons range in ages 26-34, and I get such support and love from them.
I love using the haiku format; yours was done perfectly! My babies are 2.5 and 9 months – the joy and the fun and the painful are so, so real. Thank you for sharing!
Guess what? The poem form (Zappai) is exactly what you’ve written! I adore your message. I’ll look for comfort tomorrow in my classroom.
Andrew, I love how you encourage your students to voice their feelings both good and bad. Your poem’s straightforward voice and words are striking. I wrote a few of these and am still struggling to find the words I want to share.
I hate cold silences
your permanent absence
bullies; untreated addictions; war
unkindness in others
carrion birds feeding on
festering wounds
I love glorious sunny
days; playful shadows
daffodils, warm embraces; spirits
whispering your presence
beneath a pregnant moon
softly singing
Barb Edler
20 March 2022
thank you, Barb! I want my students to grow emotionally. To experience something challenging and feel it well! Thank you for your vibrant imagery engaging with this prompt!
“pregnant moon” is my favorite image of the day.
Barb, there is such peace in “spirits/ whispering your presence/beneath a pregnant moon” – love this!
OOooo, Barb — These are lovely lines and truths. I LOVE the “pregnant moon” and also just really hate “cold silences”… oh man… yes! I felt YES YES YES with each thing on the list. I love when we find these common threads. Hugs, Susie
Barb!
This first line is everything: “I hate cold silences.” On so many levels, the truth in these four words is awesome.
I am struck by your use of semicolon here. The mark speaks in those silences with some warmth of the “sunny/days.” Very clever.
Sarah
Barb, that first verse stabs the heart. Over time I have found myself grieving with and thinking about you in unexpected moments. This is the power of poetry in this place. Then you bring the comfort, the balm of words. Hugs.
Oh Barb, I am so glad I found your poem tonight. You are a master of the concrete image. My father’s older brother was killed in WWII. My dad was 14 and his brother was 21. My dad spent the next 60+ years coming to terms with the weight of his loss. I hear in your poem again the needed sense-making of heavy loss. Your poem is beautiful and uplifting because it acknowledges how hard it is to reconcile a world of “carrion birds feeding on festering wounds” alongside “your presence beneath a pregnant moon softly singing.” Sending love.
Thank you for the thought provoking prompt. 🙂
I listen to students reveal their woes
and learn that their lives are anything
but easy and focused on learning
Parents who abdicate responsibility
and ask for monetary support from
their sixteen year old sophomore son
A mother so deep in depression that
she can’t see her daughter suffering
from the same debilitating malaise
A barely eighteen year old thrown out
for missing a class or two and told that
it is only his own attitude to blame
These are the students who inhabit my
world of literature, life lessons, and love–
here they are loved and celebrated
Who knew that the rewards of being
a teacher weren’t just in the sharing of a
love of literature with eager learners
But finding a way to show wounded
hearts that they are wonderful, valuable,
worthy souls who make my life full
May all their trials of youth be the worst
they ever face, and may they carry my
affection for them in their hearts as a shield
Our students’ lives are more complicated than we give them credit for. In my naïveté, I believe my students go home to warm food and warm homes and warm parents. But the more I get to know them, the more I know the struggles they face every day… it breaks my heart, but there’s some solace in knowing they know I care. Thanks for sharing!
Oh, Cara, so many heart-breaking and lamentable stories your students have to live. I love your wish that “their trials of youth be the worst
they ever face” Me too. Thanks for listening and noticing them. I’m sure they feel seen, and that will be a shield.
Cara,
There are so many of our students who are represented in your poem. My heart too wishes their trials of youth are the worst they face. Thank you for showing them love and letting them know their teachers care.
From my experiences with you, I know that you’re the teacher students turn to for a motherly figure when they need it most. We’re so fortunate to have your kind and caring soul at our school.
It’s a Thin Line
By Mo Daley 3/20/22
I resent shopping online for the best flight and rental car rates
I deplore filling an itinerary with “Must Dos!”
I detest checking the weather weeks in advance, so I won’t overpack
I abhor tightly rolling clothes for two, so they’ll fit in a carry-on bag
I loathe dragging my dogs to a new person’s house where I won’t know how they’re cared for
I despise waking in the wee hours of the morning to catch a flight
I hate all the work I must put into having fun
But
I enjoy relaxing
I adore being gone
I fancy freedom
I treasure new experiences
I exalt in adventure
I cherish the respite
I love vacationing
This is so true—travel is a love-hate relationship at best!
Mo, your poem made me laugh out loud. Your line “I hate all the work I must put into having fun” is spot on! I also loved “I fancy freedom”…this combination sings and literally makes me imagine someone taking flight in a giddy whirl of fun. Great word choices too for the things you lament like “loathe” and “despise”. Wonderfully fun poem!
Mo, well I just realized that planning for a vacation has the same stress as planning for a sub when I have to be absent! LOL! I hope you have a delightful trip if you’re going somewhere soon!
?
IT’S SPRING: THE KESTRELS ARE HERE
Today, in 71 degrees, the sun, the breeze,
I need not lament one damned thing;
instead l marvel at a whole other world
and soak up
the courtship of kestrels,
two pairs this morning,
crowning the giant oak;
she klee-klee-killy-killys
in a lofty lover’s conversation:
she professes, petitions,
aimed not at hunting,
not at scouting voles
down in the grass,
rather,
she entices in a tango,
skitters branch to branch
in a love dance,
ready
to fill the nest,
warm the clutch
ensure
tomorrow.
Kestrels
feather my nest.
by Susie Morice, March 20, 2022©
Susie, I just want a shirt or framed art that says: “I need not lament one damned thing”! All bird lovers unite, thank you for sharing today.
Oh, how I wish I could see this! Thankfully, you’ve painted such a beautiful picture for me, that I don’t feel I’ve missed it at all. That love tango just about made me blush!
Susie—what a great video you provided for us today! Audio, video, romance—it’s all here! Your description of the kestrels’ dance is beautiful!
Oh, Susie, what a beautiful and moving poem. I love how you open your poem with such a straight-forward comment and then create an indelible scene of the Kestrel’s song and “love dance”. What a moving, masterful poem with the perfect final finish! You’ve touched my heart, friend! Barb
Susie, I want to sit on your deck and watch the kestrels. You can tell me raccoon stories and about “mama,” There will be time to lament later. Love your rebel, not today heart.
Oh, Susie! Wasn’t this a lovely first day of spring?! We hit 72 today!
Has anyone told you you are the master of verbs? Look at these:
need
marvel
lament
soak
crowning (my personal favorite!)
klee-klee-killy-killys
professes
petitions
hunting
scouting
entices
skitters
fill
warm
ensure
feather
WOW! I will use this as a mentor text with my students to exemplify the power of the vrb.
Aww, you’re a sweetheart! Thank you. ❤️Susie
I love you. That is all. ?
I need not lament one damn thing – yes! I love this celebration of kestrels and how seeing them can make your day.
Thank you, Andrew, for this prompt. I really appreciated the opportunity to think about the pair–celebrate & lament–and how the two can be connected. It’s a new way for me to process things.
The electric kettle clicks off
and I pour water onto
the freshly ground beans.
I transfer the steaming coffee
into the most cheerful, colorful mug.
(Take a moment to taste it with me.
Breathe in the serenity of the
new day, the new season.)
Despite this being my favorite
part of the day, there is a hint
of bitterness in each sip
because this does not last–
it cannot.
Coffee cools.
Dishes dirty.
People wake.
Sunlight harshens.
But, never mind that for now.
(Stay here with me
in this transient space.
Its impermanence makes us
more grateful.)
Rachelle, I really appreciate your parenthetical side notes. This makes is personal and inviting to your audience. Thank you for sharing with us today.
Rachelle,
I love this acknowledgement and celebration of that moment of pause before the day really begins. Beautiful. Thank you for sharing. I am particularly fond of your last stanza;
Rachelle, wow, you have captured the simple pleasure of life and compared it perfectly with its everyday demands. Your end is priceless. The moments we need to treasure are transient and I love the message of being grateful for them.
Rachelle,
Oh, oh, oh how your poem reaches inside my soul. The glorious first sip of coffee in the morning. I would be happy to stay there with you. I can almost smell your poem.
P.S. Thank you for being the one to write about coffee today!! ☕?☕
Again, I am reminded why I love the tight condensation of poetry. You wrote an entire essay on impermanence in 97 words. <3 Lovely.
Thank you Andrew for the inspiration and the suggestion for a question/check-in to ask my students.
Lament and Celebrate
I lament the fact sometimes that I’ve raised independent amazing daughters that both live
far away from me and we can’t have Sunday dinners and warm embraces all the time.
I celebrate the fact that my courageous babies have been to five continents and zoom with their parents often.
I lament the fact that mosquito and hot flash season will be here again soon and I have to continually find creative ways to deal with it without cussing and complaining about it all day.
I celebrate the fact that air conditioning exists in cars and classrooms and that late nights are generally breezy in Los Angeles.
I lament that every school year there are 1-2 students in my class who walk in the door 2-3 years below grade level who just don’t seem to care about classwork, testing, improving, pleasing their teachers, parents, or have a realistic idea about their future.
I celebrate that every year there are 5-6 students who daily walk in the door serious, focused, and ready for school eagerly saying, ” Come on teacher, what have you got for me today, please teach me something wonderful because I’m ready…”
Seanna, I immediately connected to your Southern California connection, as that is where I am from. I now live in the Midwest where mosquito season is much more dominant, so I too, am thankful for air conditioning. Thank you for sharing this and I am glad Zoom is also a great family connection for you.
Wow, Seana, you have a lot on your mind! Your “mosquito and hot flash season” gave me a chuckle. I really like the way you were able to move around from serious to not-so-serious topics in the poem so easily. Well done!
I know the last two stanzas and have to remind myself that Feb-June in 5th grade is harder than any other time of year.
Love it all! Hang in there Seana! 53 more days until summer!
OMGosh, Andrew, what a great prompt with endless possibilities. I will definitely be revisiting this in my daily journal practice, and this is another one my students will love the heck out of! As for me, I just sitting, staring out my window (in Bay City, Michigan – so on the east coast from you).
Spring Uglies
I hate the piles of snow still clinging to life on the lawns
Whilst the sun makes us giddy with hope for warmth
I am annoyed at the icy mornings with coats, hats, scarves
By afternoon, I sling my winter duds over my arm as I walk home
My body loathes and rejects the awkward shift of daylight savings time
I am hopeful for the passing of the Protection Act – Sunshine or Darkness, I don’t care
People pretending the pandemic is over still make me seethe
But sitting outside to teach, I saw my students’ beautiful faces for the first time
My mailbox just dinged that another paper has arrived
Just as I was ready to shut down and go enjoy the day
Six more weeks until summer
You spring ugly mother–
Denise, this is great. I can relate to just about every line of your poem. Those last bits of grey/black snow really get to me, too.
What a perfect encapsulation of winter’s end. And all the wit’s ends out there with the pandemic… “Sunshine or darkness, I don’t care” 🙂
Denise,
Oh, my, that ending had me laugh aloud! I remember those spring days in the Midwest, so I can appreciate it. I just talked to my daughter today, and she too was singing the Spring Ugly Blues. One of my favorite things about the four seasons, though, is that a new one comes around every three months. Here’s to a fast six weeks to finish your semester.
Creature Comforts
Camping
it rained all night.
I was freezing cold.
Didn’t bring a sleeping bag.
Two blankets weren’t enough.
To warm my cold hands
I had to sit on them
and worry about
the pile of dirty dishes left at home.
Home
A fire in the fireplace.
I’m watching the rain from inside.
Now I’m cozy and comfortable.
I’ll sleep in my soft bed
and have sweet dreams.
Don’t mind washing dishes
in clean soapy water that warms my hands.
I can feel the heat rising up to my elbows.
Oh, Susan, delicious! Yes, that camping trip sounds lamentable. I’m glad you are able to celebrate home, dirty dishes and warming-you-up water!
Susan, I love how you’ve used the dishes as a transition here. Very clever!
As a tent camper, I get the duality of loving and hating those moments. We soooo want to be outside ‘in it.’ We have a nice side porch here, just warm enough now to sit out, and we joke, “Just like camping,” on days when it’s really too cold to be out, but we are so desperate for fresh air and sunshine. I love the peace of camping and leaving more than just dirty dishes behind. It’s always so difficult to come back to civilization, but then, when we do, it feels so good to be home. I guess that’s a true dual nature! Thanks, Susan!
I Choose Joy
I love that when shit happens
I see light anyway
I love when my worst behaved student
Has a peaceful afternoon
I love when my body aches
Motrin, prayer, or poetry help
I love when my schedule furrows my brow
I know somehow it all gets done
I love when my faith is unexpectedly wavering
And I thank God for bigger and better blessings
I love that I can choose joy
Especially when it’s so easy to give up
© Stacey L. Joy, 3/20/22
So honest – truly thank you! Life is not perfect. It’s unexpectedly brutal and beautiful at the same time. There’s no time to finish everything and our hardest students never seem to miss a day. Thank you for your honesty and willingness to engage!
I love that you place the peace in the hands of the student. It is their peace that concerns you, and that is a beautiful thing.
Stacey, such a beautiful litany of self-love during lamentable times. This line is a treasure: “I love when my schedule furrows my brow” We all have been there a time or two or a thousand. It is such a great description.
Stacey, I loved the lines: “I love when my schedule furrows my brow/
I know somehow it all gets done”
I feel this so much in my life right now, and you are so right: somehow it all gets done.
I also was moved to by your poem to choose joy–not always the easy choice!
Stacey, what a perfect title for you. I love how your poem reflects your personality and strength. Your end is the absolute truth! Amen!
This IS my friend Stacey! Your first two lines drew me right in and made me just wanna hug you for being the rock-solid good person that you are. Abrazos, Susie
Stacey, I love your first line and every line that follows. The realest believers are the ones who tell it like it is. And you do it so powerfully. Motrin, prayer, and poetry for when we step in it…..cheers!
Lament and Celebrate
The darkest night I’ve ever known
suicide attempt they said
trip to the E.R. all strapped in
while devils danced in my head
Pitch black closet of my own devices
no handle to free my soul
Mental health is fragile, or so they said
but my brain health was on the dole
I cannot lament what has helped so many
to get through their own dark nights
by sharing my story, they are not alone
it gives them some hope to fight
And fight they do, the demons that come
to steal all tomorrows new dawns
with a ray of hope for days ahead
A new focus on brain health is spawned
So yesterday when I received the note
A young girl so depressed and frail
Writing last words in a shaky hand
Couldn’t endure the blackness unveiled
I held her close and whispered, “I know,
I have been in that dark place with you.
There’s light just beyond this place you are at
And together we will see this through.”
Though I thought ne’er would happen
to celebrate thus, that black place beyond all measure
but to give others hope and answers so real
are blessings to celebrate and treasure
Wow! Judi, you have shared a very heavy load here, and it is such an important piece, acknowledging the fragility of our minds when they turn into dark corners. Your ability to see beyond the moment to help another is huge… you have been handed a gift. Indeed, much to celebrate. I appreciate how honest your poem is, how dear life is. Thank you. Susie
Oh my goodness! I am teary eyed with this revelation about yourself and depression. Yes, it is needed to share with others. I know of family members and a dear friend that have had this blackness cover them. You have revealed something about you that can help others recover. “A new focus on brain health is spawned.” I admire that you have taken the time to make this poem really resonate with your rhyme.
Judi—your honesty and courage are formidable. And that you could share it with your troubled student—that took even more courage. A celebrate that with you.
Judi,
Thank you your bravery in sharing this intimate story. I am so glad you can be a support to this young woman in your life. With the proper perspective, it is possible to celebrate the darkest moments in our lives and use them to help others.
Whoa, Judi. Wow. You wrote that today? What power in your laments and then the ability to celebrate your own hurt that has brought hope to others–“blessings to celebrate and treasure” indeed.
Judi, this is beautiful and a brave share; thank you for it. I love the movement from despair to hope in this. And I love that you made the rhymes work so naturally without sacrificing the meaning. Great poem.
Judi,
Thank you for sharing this personal story and your victory. You’re a light for those who wait in darkness and that’s truly a blessing. I love that your story becomes the medicine, the hope, the saving grace for the next person who needs it, especially your students.
This speaks volumes!
I hate that my living room has
been hijacked by renovation debris.
I love that there is hope for
restoration, relaxation, renewal
And eventual “after” photos
Denise — I know this feeling well! When the kitchen floor was being re-done, I truly tried being patient with the disorganization it caused; however, I did reach a point where I truly hated the inconvenience of it all. Now, as I walk across the new kitchen flooring, I am oh, so glad it was done 🙂 Hang in there! It will be worth it! 🙂 Thanks for this poem.
A perfect poem for me today, Denise. I was just having a long conversation with my daughter who says her house is always in chaos and she was pulling cans out of her pantry. “Always dust bunnies!” Yes, we long for that organization and restoration.
“I’ll just set this down here just for now” is basically my home motto. Random stuff in random places; renovating is always more chaotic than we think it will be. But you’re right, the mess is a sign that something new is coming! Love it!
Ah! renovation….it’s such a mixed blessing. I hope it goes as fast as you’re told it will 😉 What a great contrast to celebrate and hate.
Hi Denise,
I feel this and I’m experiencing it as well. Mine was a result of a pipe that burst and the unit above me had very little damage but my place has suffered terribly. Can’t even write about it without feeling my pressure rise.
I love your choice of “hijacked” as the word describing this takeover. I get it. I, too, “love that there is hope for restoration…” That is all I choose to hold on to.
?
Denise – the living through is only possible because of the hope! So much of life is a test of endurance…it will be worth it….chuckling over the yearning for “after” photos. I can’t wait to see them! Kudos to you also for maintaining your writing throughout and for the raw honesty. You impart courage to the rest of us 🙂
Denise,
I feel this poem. I felt this way in the fall when my husband said, “Let’s paint our bedroom.” It was only supposed to be a three day project that kept growing, until three week later when I finally had “grown-up” bedroom.
Nest
The hummingbird nest rested precariously
atop an extension cord, hanging from the porch,
the bijou residence of a frenetic flash of green and blue.
Some mornings her saber beak peeked over the edge.
Then she was gone. Never to return.
Another victim of an unstable housing market.
We painted the house last week,
so I removed the wire and the nest.
It was so light and airy, like a wad of cotton candy.
Inside were three small orbs, empty and cracked, long abandoned.
I placed the artifact inside a plastic baggie.
“Show your classmates!”
I encourage my son.
“We don’t have show-and-tell, Dad!”
He grudgingly agrees to share our find with his classmates.
I imagine the sense of wonder and curiosity,
as Rachel and Luka and Donnie experience another first,
as their teacher describes how the Calliope builds their nests,
and how she carefully navigates the mysterious waters
of life and death.
Your response made me think that we’re silly for ever removing show and tell from the classroom. The classroom should be a place for discovery! For growing and learning now hobbies and interests. When we’re able to share in our curiosity, wonderfully full learning happens. Thanks for sharing!
Shaun, what a wonderful narrative to show us this discovery and your encouragement to share the artifacts. Your ending is especially powerful. Love the line “navigates the mysterious waters/of life and death”. Beautiful poem!
This was just beautiful. Well done.
This past summer I lost my cat of 14 years and then in November gained two new kittens! Here is my lament and celebrate poem about my cats.
Sunset-Sunrise
Snow-white Jameson
soaking up the final rays.
Sunset of his life.
Sunrise-a new life
meet kittens-Twix and Reeses
wild, crazy snugglers.
Alexis, the loss and new life from Jameson to Twix and Reeses lends itself perfectly to this piece. Your title reflects that circle. I love that the words “Sunset and Sunrise” sit smack in the middle of this too, the fulcrum on which all life turns.
As a car owner myself, I find it amazing the connections we make with our animals! Our cats have never uttered a word I could comprehend, but our house would feel empty without them! Thank you for your writing!
Alexis,
Two of my neighbors recently lost their pets, and I could see the pain that brought. I am so glad you are able to see beauty in Jameson’s life and final moments and that you are able to celebrate the new energy your kittens bring to your home. Thank you for sharing.
Such a beautiful poem, raw, and honest! Andrew, thank you. Your poem reminds me of the book I Wish My Teacher Knew. I will take some time this morning with your prompt. Looking forward to what comes! Thank you!
I know that is horrible for parents but I never thought about how hard it is for siblings to go through it too. Love your response. ?
I would like
someone
to write
a poem
about
Hostess
Zingers,
which come
in a box of
ten individually
wrapped
raspberry
iced cakes
with creamy
fillings
yet
have a
serving size
of two:
a delicious
affirmation
of the power
of choice and
free will
and yet
also
so incredibly
environmentally
unsound.
__________________________________
Thank you for your mentor poem – your compassion for your students (and your profession) is quite palpable – and thank you for the prompt, Andrew. With the amount of “stuff” that I need to do today – parent emails, grading papers, lesson planning – each of which could contain a multitude of laments and celebrations – I opted for something askew, something prompt-adjacent, if you will, (although I am hopeful that it still has the “spirit” of your prompt.)
First of all, Zingers. Second—2 SERVINGS!? So many problems coexisting here. As always, you have shifted my view of the world. Thanks for that!
This literally made me laugh out loud. <3
Scott, your poem sits in several bite sized niblets all while offering up two servings of choice and free will. The unsound practices of this world continue to overwhelm.
I love your response! Our lament and celebration doesn’t need to be serious to be real… We’re allowed to be astounded at the mundane and angry with the little things like servicing sizes. Thank you!
Ha! Oh, how much I love this poem. I just sent my sister in law a box of ring-dings just for fun. This poem totally fits that in the moment purchase. Thanks for this.
A dictator invades, sends boys to war
real guns and tanks — this is no training exercise.
Artillery named after a flower, 203 mm Peony
–boys can’t operate the real thing
abandon Acacia howitzers — flee from thorny weapons.
No beauty here
only fear.
Boys plucked from their families
to fight a lie
to die.
They were only boys
But not all invaders buy the insipid lie.
Some will fight the propaganda
that permeates government controlled news
line the streets,
raise their voices, their fists
protest.
A child cowers, covers their ears,
shelters in a subway station,
bombs explode,
devastation and destruction reign
“CHILDREN” chalked in white
even they are not spared.
My neighbor’s yellow and blue flag whips
in March wind, in Cleveland
The Terminal Tower glows
blue and yellow, the world prays
in collective solidarity
It isn’t enough.
Gorgeous and moving, Tammi; my emotions roller coastered as I read it — beautiful job using your language and imagery to great effect.
Tammi, your poem is incredibly powerful. You etch war’s horrors through stark images and truth. Children suffering and dying is too much to bear. Your final line echoes and resonates. Thank you for sharing this timely poem, a truly lamentable reality.
Tammi
So many truths in this. I think so many of us wish there was more we could do in the face of such irrationality. You hit just the right notes of truth and pain. Your last line, “It isn’t enough,” is a well placed understatement.
Andrew—thank you so much for this prompt and your poem—you reflect what any (good) teacher feels every day, all the time. We celebrate, and we lament. As an English teacher, I struggled with getting students to summarize plot. And isn’t life just a plot full of laments and celebrations? So here it is…
Somebody-Wanted-But-So-Then
The woman wanted a Perfect Life
But Perfection is elusive
So she took what she encountered
Even if it was not quite-right
Then made the best of what she had.
She wanted to be Important in the world
But the World is very large and Importance is undefined
So she wore good suits and hurtful high-heeled shoes
And flew on airplanes to Meetings and ate Expensive Lunches
with People who thought they were Important and
Then she realized that those things weren’t Important, after all.
She wanted a family
But children take a lot of time and energy and love and patience and diapers
So she left her Very Important Job
Then changed their diapers and made them healthy dinners and read them stories and taught them nursery rhymes and kissed them goodnight
and watched them grow.
She wanted to be the best at sending good people into the world
But mothering is really, really hard
So she did her best and made mistakes and hoped the kids at least turned out happy.
Then they grew up and struggled and succeeded sometimes, and failed other times,
And now they are in search of their own Perfect Lives.
She wanted to teach forever.
But Covid sent her away
So she read books and mourned and missed her students and let her hair go gray.
Then life threw Cancer into her path and she knew why she was home.
And her husband lived after all and nothing else mattered.
She wanted a perfect life
But the world had other plans.
So she did what she could and wondered if she had made a Difference.
Then, one night, she was out and there were students
and they shared some time and a beer and they remembered the things
they learned from her so long ago.
And they laughed and hugged and said goodnight.
And the woman realized
That her Life was Perfect, after all.
GJSands 3-20-22
Oh. My. goodness. I loved this poem! I love how you added about letting her hair go gray and how she just kept having hurdles thrown at her and thrown at her and then at the end, she realized all she did have. Life is tough, but it is also beautiful.
Gayle,
This one definitely brought on tears. Thanks.
Oh, Gayle, I love this. What a narrative! What a great form you have created here. That last stanza of “there were students”…”and they remembered the things they learned from her…” Very nice, and this line speaks beautiful volumes: “And her husband lived after all and nothing else mattered.”
Oh, Gayle! This poem is perfection. Everything from the title through the highs and lows to the finding self. I love it all. It fills me with both sorrow and love simultaneously. What a beautiful life.
Oh, Mama… it’s been 46 days. I walk the path of heartbreak as I mourn your loss deeply. And forever will. No more phone calls. No more visits and cooking up your favorites, like sweet potatoes and broccoli casserole. No more treating you to Dr. Peppers and Nutter Butters and new word search books. No more of your silly jokes, or gazillion stories that we all knew by heart, and sweet laughter. No more of your pecan pies and perfect deviled eggs. My heart aches deeply and I weep that your last days were such a struggle and you were so miserable, and I couldn’t change it. I wanted to make everything all right for you like you did for me. Old age is a tough adversary.
…So now I walk a new path looking for the sunshine. I’m grateful and know I was blessed YOU were my mama. I had you for nearly 68 years to guide me and model for me how to be a strong independent woman, and wisely raise my own family. I’ll remember though Life can be hard and present us with difficult times there’s still a place to love and laugh, and to make the most of visiting family every chance you get. I’ll remember to give thanks to God for the many blessings he bestows on me daily. I’ll appreciate the beauty of nature as I continue your tradition of growing plants and flowers and keeping the bird feeders full. And to always enjoy the bounty of a good garden…
Rest in Peace, Mama. I’ll do my best to make you proud. ?
What a powerful story. The hole that our loved ones leave when they’re gone is something that can never be filled. What a wonderful way to grieve, mourn, and lament while celebrating all that she was. Thank you for sharing!
Kathy—I am so sorry for your loss. It is so hard to look for celebrations in the midst of sorrow, and my heart breaks for you as you honor what she gave you…
Kathy, this is so touching. I love the specific celebrations you have added of your dear Mama–the Nutter Butters, word searches, silly jokes, pecan pies, and more. You have given us such a glimpse of who she is. Beautiful subject and fine execution of this lamenting and celebrating poem today.
Kathy — I am so sorry for your loss. Your lament brought tears to my eyes. I lost my mother nearly three years ago and while the heartbreak eases, the missing never goes away. Your celebration was beautiful and it helped remind me to celebrate the memories I have of my mother as well. Thank you for your beautiful poem.
Kathy, the beauty! I love a prose poem, and this is how this reads. I wrote a tribute to your mother and posted the Dr. Pepper photo – it’s at kimhaynesjohnson.com, sometime in January or February. I think I posted it here on ethicalela as well in a previous OpenWrite. You were truly blessed. There’s nothing quite like being a Haynes. And now…..those legacy seeds are yours to plant in your own children and grandchildren. Take them out, sprinkle them on the fertile soil she has cultivated in you, and water them. Tend them carefully, as you do. Pull the weeds. And admire the blooms.
Either Way
Baby socks and cheeks make my heart seize with longing
But my brain can’t fathom being more exhausted than I am now.
And think how old we’d be,
how much we couldn’t do for them,
how heartbreaking and challenging and expensive and expansive and fun and joyful and terrifying and tiring and all I don’t know and and and…and yet…
I picture our green-eyed black-haired, funny, tiny person in our arms, but
I see only each other, too. Hands knotted and content.
The corners of my mouth rise
either way
I imagine it.
Wow. Loved this, Emily. So much truth here. 🙂
Holy, holy cow, Emily. I don’t know if I’ve ever encountered a better expression of this particular torment. My wife and I are discussing another child, and I couldn’t relate to this more.
Thank you for your poem! The time change was brutal this time around. It seemed like our son went the wrong way… Day two of the time change, he woke up at 4:30 – which was 3:30 for his little body! It really seems like some of the most worthwhile things in life bring both intense grief and the most potent joy.
“The corners of my mouth rise either way I imagine it”—what a perfect expression of being a parent! Emily, this is beautiful!
Emily — this is so beautiful! It brought me back many years to when my babies were small and my husband and I talked about number three. Now my number three is 14! The years go soo soo fast. Hold on to those exhausting beautiful moments.
Emily, Your poem brought tears to my eyes–remembering the time we discussed trying for one more…and now she is 9 and such a joy. Life is such an adventure and the best decision will be the one you make!
Emily – This is just such a real tug of the heart and mind. I so understand the pull. I love the title, the “moth rise”… so real. Sending you a big ol’ hug. Love, Susie
Gracias, my friend!
Andrew, thanks for the thought-provoking prompt! Taking my dog for a walk yesterday, on one of our first nice days of the season, inspired me to try to capture it in this poem. (Also, the “poem a day” that I received in my inbox today from Poetry.com was called “Pastoral” by Djuna Barnes and was written in envelope quatrains, which also inspired this form and subject!)
A collar, leash, upon a willing pup
Though there to guide, do stay the wild will
And stay the lad from facing any ill
Yet keep his yen to caper round pent up.
We walk. The hill above us looms ahead
Warm earthy air bodes well of days to come
Sparrows sing and nature seems to hum
(Though part of me yearns still to be abed).
There’s danger in these hills, the feel is real
As neighbors let their dogs embrace the wild
And many times my pup, himself a child
Came face to face with offense unconcealed.
His body senses mine, both loose and taut
My eyes drink in the sights and sounds of spring:
Brown fields and azure sky, a bluebird sings
Still, wary I and he, our journey fraught.
So will our ambles take us through our time
Together drinking pleasure with our pain
Wary, we seek wildness unrestrained
Death’s thrill and lust for life, both sweet, sublime.
your spring imagery is pure bliss, Wendy. What a song of spring! My soul reemerged from an unconscious hibernation reading this.
Wendy — I love this beautiful picture of spring and the juxtaposition of the dangers present in nature. Especially love your last stanza: So will our ambles take us through our time/
Together drinking pleasure with our pain/Wary, we seek wildness unrestrained/
Death’s thrill and lust for life, both sweet, sublime.
Wendy, this truly feels like an awakening! I want to amble along with you. The tension of the neighbors allowing their dogs embrace the wild invites all kinds of curious ideas.
Beautiful quatrains and rhyme, so natural. The pastoral imagery comes through, real and musical; this line really stuck with me: “Together drinking pleasure with our pain” – lament and celebration, right there, for this is life, and what all the goodness of Dog is for!
Catch 2020
cocooned quarantine
serene space
masking mandates
social anew
fleeting strains
innovative science
illiterati media
media literacy
deplorable mourns
craving change
Stefani – I enjoy and admire the economy of language here. It is also a study of playful language and sound. You make each pair of words go right to the heart of the duality of 2020. I particularly like the sounds in “illiterati media/media literacy” – it has a mirror-like quality. Thanks for sharing this.
These couplets are excellent. Each one is as simple and profound as a yin-and-yang. How we respond, what we takeaway. A flip of the coin and fate reverses.
The contrasts and the spare language are so effective. I especially liked the cocooned quarantine/serene space. Both were so true.
Thanks for your simple, provocative poem. There has been a lot of heart ache over the last two years. However, if we’re willing to grieve well, and if we’re willing to offer grace, I think there’s hope that a new season of empathy and community is possible from the pieces of all we’ve lost.
Stefani — You totally captured the good “serene space” and “innovative science” as well as the bad “illiterati media” and “fleeting strains” of 2020. What a crazy year.
Stefani, this is so beautiful. I especially appreciate
“illiterati media
media literacy”
It speaks volumes of what we’ve been living through, and the celebration of thinking our way out, the hope for saving democracy.
Thank you Andrew for this space today. I love that writing is a way for our emotions to escape. We hold them hostage so often that they have learned to dwell comfortably like an unwelcomed visitor within our space. Since I am on Spring Break, I decided to write about it. It’s a mashup of my life inside and outside of school.
Spring Break
A time for release, to kick back and enjoy all that you didn’t get to.
In reality for some, it is a time to catch up on housework and finish all that was put off since previous holiday breaks.
A time to hit the road and travel across 3 states.
Instead, it’s for that vacation/wedding, vacation/funeral, or vacation/graduation in which you loathe the climbing gas prices varying by city.
A time to spend outside gardening, exercising, and soaking up the sun.
When allergies rear their ugly heads, people are watching you in your mismatched shorts and misshapen t-shirt try to decapitate weeds, and you develop an annoyance for buying $200 extra in groceries.
A time to relish, relax, and take out some “time” for me.
Unfortunately, catching up on the news to find out about unexpected deaths and not-so-random shootings at what are supposed to be fun events. That time ran out for some.
A time to reflect, rewind, and rejuvenate, recharging before next week.
Praying you will see the same students return because some may encounter unfortunate circumstances.
Time is too short, do all of this now. Don’t wait until Spring Break to enjoy the precious moments and awkward events. Go after the once-in-a-lifetime opportunities you may never get to experience again.
I love this portrait of vacation. The older I get, the more varying my idea of vacation becomes, and this speaks so well to that. There’s always a mission involved in my trips these days.
“Instead, it’s for that vacation/wedding, vacation/funeral, or vacation/graduation in which you loathe the climbing gas”
This nails it on the head. Wonderful.
Jessica – you captured the duality of Spring Break here! It’s a time we all put a lot of pressure on to be amazing, but sometimes yes, it’s all about the spring cleaning or even grief. I laughed out loud at this line: “people are watching you in your mismatched shorts and misshapen t-shirt try to decapitate weeds,” this idea of pulling out all of our awkward summer gardening clothes again was such a strong image. I hope you get to recharge and enjoy your break!
Love this—so very true!!
“A time to spend outside gardening, exercising, and soaking up the sun.
When allergies rear their ugly heads, people are watching you in your mismatched shorts and misshapen t-shirt try to decapitate weeds, and you develop an annoyance for buying $200 extra in groceries.”
Thank you for this! I wish life were as simple as “taking a break”. I always find myself “this is just a season of being busy, it’ll be better when _______” But something always comes up. Why is there always turmoil? Why is everything so broken? Why are we always so tired… If only there was a way to bottle up the empathy you’ve shared here to show our students how hard life is but how loved they are. Thanks for sharing your thoughts 🙂
Jessica, I know how much the reality is lived by teachers. That rush of get-everything-done while you have the extra time for all that you didn’t get to the last time feeling. It’s overwhelming. So your invitation to jump in on the fun experiences is greatly appreciated!
Andrew, thank you for hosting us today and investing in us as writers. Your lines of what you love, then what you wish or hate are powerful reminders that sometimes there is both in what we feel. That’s what got me thinking. My brother lost his dog recently – the dog that really was his child, as it was his only companion for most of the past 14 years. We all grew to love Feivel, but one morning it was clear that it was time to put him down when the dog’s cancer had won. That’s what inspired my poem today.
to raise a puppy
walk him across Rainbow Bridge ~
love and grief at once
Kim, so much is tied in the loving, living, and losing. The fleetingness of their lives lingers in our memories. Sending much love to your brother and all of you.
Kim, I am sorry about the loss of your brother’s dog, Feivel. Your last line, “love and grief at once” pretty much sums up life. But there is so much in between the first two lines that we can all enjoy-the precious moments, laughable moments, and tender moments of owning a pet. I never had any pets growing up, but my husband’s family had several dogs and they all met unfortunate circumstances- the downside of living off the highway. I can see how pets are family too. Maybe that’s another reason why I won’t get one for my children. We had a fish and it lasted about a week. I will try again, this time with a dog. Thank you for sharing!
Ughhh. Kim. My heart. My mom sends me the Rainbow Bridge every time I lose a pet. It never gets easier, but somehow it gets more powerful the more you walk a beloved over that bridge.
Oh, the bittersweetness in this poem is tangible, Kim. I see that puppy wagging its tail from the Rainbow Bridge. Sending love to your brother.
Kim, this was so touching! Thanks for doing so much in so few words. <3
Beautifully spoken. We are so honored and blessed to have the unconditional love and devotes hearts of our pets…
*devoted… and boy, is that grief real.
Kim—you and I often talk about the pets who enrich our lives. And they do. And the sorrow is so deep, with the mix of love and grief.
Thank you for sharing, Kim. What a simple, heart-felt, powerful poem. I think Winnie the Pooh said it best:
“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
Kim, tears and sighs. Your poem captures the brevity of life. It reminds me to celebrate daily, for we never know. Peace at this time, especially for your brother.
Oh, yes. Still grieving almost a year later. Life is such that adding a dog isn’t possible right now. But, I so look forward to the new puppy we will get to meet someday and later at that rainbow bridge.
ARRGGH. It hurts, this truth, for anyone who’s lived it. I have. Once again you sear the soul with so few words!
Kim, My heart hurts, such is the power of a few words. It is such joy and sorry this dog mom life. Hugs.
Sending big love. Susie
Andrew, such a great prompt! Embracing the duality of life, striving for honesty. The aim is so pure. I’m going with a haiku today.
I hate that he’s gone
I love filling his wide shoes
Life is all balance
John, it looks like we had some of the same thoughts today in form and content. Your last line is powerfully part of the carrying on of life when we’ve lost someone. Life is all balance. Amen to the order and balance in helping us feel empowered to carry on.
John, your words and the structure of this poem mirror that balance. The image of the wide shoes speaks to his impact. Walk widely in those shoes.
Simply beautiful. I feel both the pain of loss and the aspiration to celebrate this person. “I love filling his wide shoes,” says a lot in a few words. Thanks for sharing this!
John-so few words, so much wisdom.
Adding that “wide” in a familiar saying made me stop and read and reread it. Beautiful and simple. It speaks volumes.
I love haiku. Takes only a few words to tell a mighty story – as you’ve done here. Life IS all balance, and it is ever-shifting, and so must our foothold, just to maintain. The loss here strikes me but more so, your willingness – your joy – in stepping up to fill the wide shoes left behind strikes even deeper. Beautifully done!
John,
Such a poignant poem. Sometimes less is more. Thank you for sharing today.
Andrew, another AQ student! Thank you for the freedom your prompt enables and for the focus on joy in times of sadness. You share the complexity teachers face within their classrooms with the challenges and celebrations found there. I feel each of their challenges.
Power is a petulant tyrant,
a waving of flags
in a stadium of monetized bit players,
a knocking over of wooden blocks
just to get your way,
Honor is a hard-won promise,
gathered beneath the feet of children
and woven in sunflower fields,
clutching stolen light
in a tightly raised fist
Holy Moses, Jennifer, this is stunningly perfect. You have slammed the fist of reason here… your image of the “petulant tyrant” (we see him so clearly… he scares the daylights out of me)… that “stadium of monetized bit players” … the short-sighted immaturity of knocking over the blocks… so perfect a description! And the “honor” and images in the last stanza is a holy smokes piece of poetry! Dang, you are GOOD!
Jennifer, our children are the future! If we can steer them toward the door, they hold the key to unlock it! The lines “a knocking over of wooden blocks just to get your way” seems to be popular now, especially with our leaders. Tantrums lead to tyrants! I just made that up, but it seems so true, especially if no one ever tried to make the person rationalize their thoughts and take control of their emotions. This world we live in. If only they can see the honor that our children are bringing forth! Thank you for sharing!
Jennifer, beautiful sentiments and imagery! Love how the juxtaposition guided this. Thanks for this.
These two stanzas are so powerful and I feel like I could reread over and over!
Jennifer—what truth. Your imagery is stunning, and the contrast so strong. Wow.
Oh, Jennifer, wow! This is so powerful. “a knocking over of wooden blocks
just to get your way,” Great description of power-hungry petulant tyrants.
And that honor stanza is perfection.
Jennifer, this is both powerful and subtle commentary w/ out the obvious stated. I love the ambiguity and thinking about how your poem is universal and timeless. Brilliant,
Andrew, this poetic exercise offers many opportunities: acknowledging challenges with aspirations for overcoming, combatting despair with gratitude, accepting the invitation to grieve and search for healing. Your couplets work so well – those last, such a shot to the heart. I wish for that, too. Thank for this today.
Remains
Today, I mourn
the destruction of trees along my rural byways
the displacement of wildlife
the destruction of Ukraine
the displacement of her people
the systemic demoralization of teachers
the systemic misplacement of trust
Today, I celebrate
the remnants
of trees
wildlife
Ukraine
her people
teachers
trust
Today, I hope
for restoration
in revelation
and reverence
before all
are revenants
Thanks for taking the time to respond! I use the exercise all of the time, and often it feels there is more to lament than to celebrate. I love your lament for world events and your hope for world wide changes!
This was the best way to start the day. This is pure beauty. The pain, the love. Absolutely life-affirming. I am in love with the way you celebrate the EXACT same things you mourn. And that you invoke a call to action by the end.
Fran, the repetition of re words is powerful here – remnants, restoration, revelation, reverence, revenants. These work such magic on the heels of the distrust, displacement, demoralization of the first stanza. The tearing down, and then the building back up and healing. This is what the world needs now – yes, before all are revenants.
Fran, love the structure of this poem!
Fran, wow. What a beautiful poem of lament, celebration, and prophetic warning. Yes, here’s to restoration, revelation and reverence for life and humanity.
I love the words “the remnants.” They are such a reminder that there will be a someday that we can rebuild. Sometimes, it really doesn’t feel like that. I pray we don’t run out of remnants.
Fran, there’s so much to mourn as your opening lists, but what remains gives home.
Why is every weekend
only two days away
from a Monday
— but —
Monday brings a joy
of something new
and things to do
— while —
I worry of the time
I need to think deep
into sleep
— Kevin
Love the mixture of dread, joy, and contemplation. Perspective is everything-
Good morning, Kevin! I love your willingness to be honest about the dread you feel about the approaching Monday while also, in some beautiful way, looking forward to the newness it brings. Have a great Sunday!
Your last stanza could not have possibly hit closer to home. The worry that seems to compound and control. Searching for ways to stay longer in the mindset of your second stanza. Wonderful work!
Kevin, your last stanza makes me think of the Emerson line “what lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.” Whenever we are on weekend time, there is the deep sleep of a nap and the recharging of the batteries we need to power us through the week….and there are also Netflix series and books that want to fight for that sleep time…….
This is brilliant Kevin! I never understood why I loathe Mondays. Then after I changed jobs did I realize it. Your “but” says it all. “Monday brings a joy of something new and things to do”. I have things to do- plant a seed (literally these past few weeks), empower a child, enjoy outside. Monday is the beginning of a new week and that brings new chances. Thank you for sharing!
Andrew, I’m in love with this prompt. I’m totally going to use it with students! Thank you for the chance to think about what we would write without presure. I gave myself permission to be messy and quick.
I lament that I can not do the job I was called to do
When teachers are out sick, substitutes too few
But, what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger
Some days the job at hand is not the one
I was trained to do.
The library is filled with classes who
Need a teacher today,
a human being who will do
the work of checking in,
passing out puzzles, markers, tape.
It’s a hard day and I am tired
But this hard day, I celebrate
The students I got to talk with
The jokes, artwork and kindness given
I lament today but celebrate too.
The lines that caught me were “Some days the job at hand is not the one I was trained to do” – that encapsulates so much of the teaching/school world experience over the last couple of years. I’ve lived it and am about to live it on another level this week…but the moments with students…”jokes, artwork, kindness given,” the connecting, that’s what it’s all about.
Teachers have always been asked to do the impossible, and it seems the impossible has gotten even more… impossible. Your students are lucky to have someone like you in their lives!
Linda, you nailed it. We are doing the jobs of many when the people are too few. Yet you keep the bigger picture right in the forefront and connect with the students who are there, ready to get about the work of learning and being. Of reaching and touching, of sensing and knowing. The situation is absolutely one to lament – and absolutely one to celebrate, as you last line reminds us.
Linda – The tug in your lines is so true… teachers are warriors in handling the fire in the ice, the solid oak in the tornado of being a teacher. I love the sense of yin and yang in your poem. It’s so real. Thank you for being an educator, for being a poet, for being a teacher-poet. Susie
Linda, perfect subject for this poem. Yes, indeed. All we can do is what we have to, and you make the best of each day, I’m sure. The kids get the benefit of your celebration and kindness when they come to school in these difficult times. Peace.
Linda,
You nailed the complicated feelings teachers have these days.