Welcome to day 2 of the January Open Write!
Our Host
Stacey L. Joy is a National Board Certified Teacher, Google Certified Educator, L.A. County and LAUSD Teacher of the Year with 37 years of elementary classroom teaching experience. She currently teaches 5th grade. Teaching her Joyteam scholars the power of knowledge, self-advocacy and justice are the core of her practice. Stacey has served as a partner and guiding teacher for graduate students in the U.C.L.A. Teacher Education Program. Stacey is a poet at heart with one self-published book and several poems published in various anthologies. Follow Stacey on Twitter @joyteamstars.
Inspiration
Amanda Gorman’s new book, Call Us What We Carry, captures collective grief like no other. It is a must-read book. She opens with a dedication to “all of us both hurting and healing who choose to carry on.” I believe our community of teacher writers reflects the hurting, the healing, and those carrying on.
Amanda’s poem, Resolute, evokes peace and determination in me. In this start to a new year, let’s forge ahead with the spirit of peace, hope and change.
Process
I would like to revisit the Monotetra, introduced to us in July 2020 by Tracie McCormick. The monotetra is a poetic form developed by Michael Walker consisting of mono-rhymed quatrains with a refrain. It can be only one quatrain or as many as you choose to write. Each line consists of 8 syllables. I must admit, this form is not always a favorite since it requires syllable and line counts along with rhymes. Don’t let the form stop you. If it works for you, go for it, and if it doesn’t, trust the poet in you to write the poem that needs to be written.
In the spirit of Amanda Gorman’s poem, Resolute, find a word or words that resonate with you to use as the theme of your poem, or use in your refrain, or just use it to inspire your poem.
Write a monotetra (or try any form of poetry) that can serve as resolutions for 2022, reminders to pursue peace, hope, and change, or perhaps write one that can bury the hurts and losses of 2020-2021.
Stacey’s Poem
I wrote Judgment Day in 2020. I have resurrected it because we still seek freedom and justice.
Judgment Day
Will we find peace on stolen land
Bones of natives in sinking sand
Chains remain where your statues stand
America, America
You never kept your freedom creed
Upon your soil we cry and bleed
From ripened wombs you killed our seed
Land of the free! Land of the free?
You kill because we take a knee
Pleading and shouting, WE CAN’T BREATHE
But Judgment Day shall come, you’ll see
no Liberty, no Liberty.
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.
I’m late in arriving here … sorry
Uggh … do I really have to rhyme?
I barely have just enough time
to sort through my poem writing mind,
but here I am — here I am
Here I am, counting finger stress,
each syllable, another test
of form and function; it’s a mess
but here I am — here I am
Kevin,
I love the simplicity even though counting is stressful. ? You a masterful poet!
I had trouble with this one, but really really like the style.
I started with a non rhyming version and have one stanza complete. This poem is about anxiety:
a casual talk, simple chat
nothing too serious, you see.
but then you leave and thoughts begin
spiraling down, spiraling down.
Pause
By Mo Daley 1/17/21
My word of the year will be pause
I’m getting in trouble because
my foot in mouth is a faux pas
Stop and think! Stop and think!
I’ll take a breath and hesitate
think my thoughts, remember to wait
maybe I’ll even count to eight
Stop and think! Stop and think!
My words won’t make me look a fool
if I follow this Golden Rule
I should have learned in preschool
Stop and think! Stop and think!
Hi Mo,
Great choice for your one word, pause. I need to heed your advice as well. Sometimes I find myself saying to myself, “Why did you say that?” So thank you!
This is all I need:
??
My word is pause too and love your thoughts about how to move forward and pause more.
American Medicine Monotetra
We wait in a cold corridor
Passed by ER’s conspirator
Maskless others get guarantor
Broken system. Broken system.
The ticking clock and increased pain
Mark clotting lungs, cause more heart strain
Profit-based health care is inane.
Money changers. Money changers
Our six hour stint we reconcile
Among unmasked breathers who smile
A fate like being put on trial
System failure. System failure.
My mind tallies what we’ve all lost
For freedumb whatever the cost
America’s own holocaust
Anti-vaxxers! Anti-maskers!
What happened to the golden rule
Does love thy neighbor mean be cruel
Why must so many play the fool
Across this land. Across this land.
Glenda Funk
Yours and Allison’s poems combined pretty much sums up alllll the frustrated emotion and where it all stems from. “Freedumb”is brilliant. I’m using that one from now on. But, as I’ve heard tell, all of this brokenness has been there all along, it just took a Trump presidency and a pandemic to see it more clearly. And was predicted to get worse before it gets better. We are broken, and we need to fix ourselves. Will I live to see the healing? In our lifetimes?
Oh, Glenda, your words are ringing true today, as they always do. You are a prophet poet. Beautiful. I have never heard this put so well: “For freedumb whatever the cost” That idea of personal freedumb took on such a new twist for me while I lived those eight years where freedom had such a different meaning. What a powerful poem, and I pray all are healthy again.
Such a strong, provocative, ‘right on’ poem, Glenda! I like how the four line of the quatrain does not rhyme, making the overall tone more serious, I think. I adore ‘freedumb’ – this is new to me and so clever! – and I find myself repeating and agreeing with this line,
Will we learn anything from these years in pandemic?
Glenda, doggone it, yessss! I felt this to my core. Your poem is another one that needs to be on the walls in hospitals and doctors’ offices.
I hope you and Ken are well.
❤️
Monotetra 2022
A year ago I held the flame
aloft as into school I came!
I had no doubt I’d win the game.
I knew my aim, I trued my aim.
But now I’m slow. I plod along,
no longer sure of right or wrong.
The tune is missing from my song.
I once was strong, I once was strong.
Each day I wrench the heavy shroud
that hides the sunlight ‘neath the cloud.
My knees are bent, my head is bowed,
My shoulders cowed, my purpose cowed.
A year ago I clawed my way
through challenges deemed temporary.
Yet here I am, day after day:
I may not stay. I cannot stay.
For Iowa is filled with folk
who think that COVID is a joke
and news is fake, and sneer at “woke”
as teachers bend beneath the yoke.
I’ve spent my life believing in
the weight of fact; that truth will win.
Yet ‘22 comes stumbling in
And I am grim. Yes, I am grim.
If even teachers such as I,
who love our work and dare to try
now find our voices break and cry:
Should I ask WHY? Can I ask WHY?
Oh, Allison, I feel your heavy heart here. Your fifth staza is particularly heart-breaking because I have to agree. All of your personal descriptions highlight why teachers are struggling in the classroom and why so many are choosing to leave. Tears. I hear your cries. I wish I had a solution, but all I can say is that I understand. Hugs!
Oh, Allison — I feel the burden you share here…the “shoulders cowed” under the weight of this horrific virus and all the grim news from day to day. I hear your voice and feel the weight. It hurts to see that this year has “stumbl[ed] in” and things are still so painfully messed up. But your voice here is still strong…your question is real, “WHY?” I know you teach for the love of the kids and their learning, but so much woe is beneath that “yoke.” It isn’t just Iowa…it’s everywhere we go…it seems, and yet so many are not those “sneer[ing] at woke” … you are not alone…I promise you, you are not alone. We need you…the whole bloomin’ country needs you…you are the light despite how grim it feels. I’m sending you a hug, a thank you, a plea to lean on me and the many who do stand right by your side in not succumbing to the heavy burden. You are an extraordinary poet, a wonderful teacher, a leader, a unicyclist, an accordian-ist (is that a word?)…you are the elixir in the classroom. Thank you thank you thank you. Susie
Truth be spoken. I was thinking I had just become one of retiritis old grumps, but the apex of all of this is wearing good teachers right out of the classroom. I have a colleague in the prime of her career quitting to be a private counselor. I get it. Your “woke” observation is one so true it hurts. Every day ignorance is a trading card and it’s getting people into positions of power. Crossing the threshold into the classroom used to be my Wonkaland moment when I could leave it all behind and just focus on my students. Impossible anymore. Is it worth sticking around to see the next act?
Allison,
I feel the pain in every line. Your poem describes so much all teachers feel. I could easily be about Idaho, too. Sending you love and peace.
Oh, Allison, your poem is heartbreaking. I know so many teachers who have packed it in. My brother and sister-in-law retired this year, a couple years earlier than they planned. Now they high-five each other every time they see a school bus. “I may not stay. I cannot stay.” What is the future of education if so many teachers are spent beyond recovering. Why, indeed?
Allison, we are really in the trenches. Sometimes I think my need to OVER work is masking the pain of NOTHING is working. I am with you, my friend.
Please take care of yourself and be safe. We need you whether it’s in the classroom or at home. You matter.
❣️
Snow Day
Pretty hexagonal arrays
Collide to make a snowy day
Snow crystals blanket ground today
Go out to play, go out to play
Tammi, this is pure fun! I can’t imagine living in a snowy region! Today we had 70 degree temps and yesterday we had rain and a tsunami warning!
I can picture your snowy day!
❄️
-7 windchill here! What do we always say – I wouldn’t mind the cold so long as there’s snow! Something about the beauty of fresh fallen snow shifts that torment to play. Nicely captured here!
Pretty hexagonal arrays! I love that!
WOW, Stacey, that is a powerful poem: stolen, sand, statues, soil, bleed, wombs, take a knee, we can’t breathe. Who was it who said poetry is “the best words in the best order”? You did it with this one. Thank you.
Thank you Stacey for the invitation to stretch myself. Here is my attempt at a Monotetra.
Forward
Eyes all agaze for what could be.
Leaving the past and it’s debris.
Filled with hope with no guarantee.
Will move forward. Will move forward.
Donnetta, great monotetra! I love the repetition of “Will move forward.” Yes, even though there are no guarantees, your poem is filled with hope and castiron resolve!
Thank you, Donnetta! I love what you have written and shared with us. We can never get too many messages of hope! My one word for 2022 is faith so this poem spoke to my heart. Perfect choice for your refrain because we need to hear it over and over, move forward!
?
Donnetta — I love the message of hope in your poem. Yes! “Will move forward”
Yours is a good response to Glenda and Allison’s poems (both above). Time only moves forward, and so must we! I love the lack of subject in that final “Will move forward” as it can be the “I” of the speaker and a collective “We” – a promise and a call to action. Nice.
2022
Freedom. Intellect. Connection.
Looking for a new direction.
My North Star guides: soul’s reflection.
Self-protection. Self selection.
Thanks, Jen for reminding me that I have freedom, intellect and connections. Sometimes it is a struggle when looking for a new direction. Great and strong poem.
Jen, the brevity gives this poem even more power. I adore the choice you made to use “Self-protection, Self selection.”
Thank you! I pray we are all going in a new direction!
Jen — Love this line — “My North Star guides: soul’s reflection”
Stacey, thank you for the powerful prompt and model poem. You poem inspired me to be vulnerable as well. Thank you for the invitation today.
The poem I wrote is heavily inspired by “To Julia de Burgos” by Julia de Burgos
***
You are confined, chained to the backyard tree;
I am open horizons, the endless Midwest prairie.
You are manipulated by what you should be;
I am untethered to the needs of the patriarchy.
They cannot know me until you know me.
Your school days were filled with commands to obey;
My world is a playground teeming with curiosity and play.
You are sedated by perfection: reaching for one star to slay;
From one constellation to the next, I imperfectly ballet.
They cannot know me until you know me.
I am not the whisper in the back of your starless mind.
I am not the essence that creeps between the poetry lines.
I am not the suppressed urges–the dreams declined.
I am not the song of the caged bird, melodies refined.
They cannot know me until you know me.
Rachelle,
Wow. I don’t even know where to start! This is really beautiful and poignant. These lines in particular struck me:
Rachelle — This is absolutely beautiful! I love the strength that exudes from this poem. It has the power of an anthem, and your refrain “They cannot know me until you know me” — really packs a punch. Just love everything about this poem.
Oh my! What a strong, heart-pumped beautiful poem! Each time I read your poems I am re-committed to bravery! This was stunning!
Rachelle, this is amazing! I don’t even know where to start! The overall tone is so bold and strong! I like the juxtaposition of you are/I am, that works very well. Then how you move into “I am not,” is equally strong. Not to mention several of your images being beautiful and thought provoking. I particularly love “I am open horizons, endless Midwest prairie”.
Stacey, your poem inspired me and I’m in awe of our girl Amanda. I was challenged by the format today but didn’t let it stop me from submitting anyway. Here is my offering…..
Goodbyes and Hellos
Goodbye to
pain, jealousy, and racism
Hello to
serenity, passion, and musical joy
Heavy wave to
pettiness, carb-heavy meals, anxiety, and sexism
Welcome
books, healthy bodies, insightful conversations, a request from a friend
Goodbye to
Covid-worry, stress, ignoring the lure of the doze behind my eyelids
Warm Embrace to
Serenity, hope, exercise, exciting thoughtful lessons, and polka dot pajamas.
Seana– I like the set up of your poem! I am inspired to take time to journal today about what I want to say goodbye to, say hello to, send a heavy wave to, welcome, and give a warm embrace. I need more polka dot pajamas. Thank you for sharing!
This poem reminded me of a Beatles song that I think was titled “Goodbye, Hello!” and spoke about when we say goodbye we open the door and say hello to a new beginning.
Hi Seana, I love the ease with which this poem flows from pain to polka dot pajamas!
♥︎
Seana — Yes! You have truly captured the essence of beginning a new year. Saying goodbye to those things that have dragged us down and broken us, and welcoming “serenity, hope, exercise, exciting thoughtful lessons and polka dot pajamas.”
“Her”
By: Emily Yamasaki
why did you become a teacher
I never know how to answer
what reasons for me to be “her”
believer, nurturer, dreamer
tables turn, now I look to me
wrestle this question – agony
the surges know no gravity
to be “her” now, a tragedy
Oh, so true and so tragic and I wish I knew how to make changes to this sentiment. So many teachers leaving for other jobs or no job. It all does feel like a tragedy.
Emily, this was emotionally charging! Your last line “to be “her” now a tragedy”, is very raw, but real in this crazy world we’re in right now. Knowing that people are criticizing teachers, sympathizing with teachers, and crucifying teachers. The passion is dying in some. It’s like we’re wearing the Scarlet “T” on our hearts!
Emily, you aren’t alone. But I know for certain, you are the “her” your students and colleagues need. You’re a rockstar of an educator, never forget it.
?
Emily,
This is such a timely sentiment, unfortunately. I see my colleagues at the beginning of their careers questioning the choice of profession and I sympathize. Since I have been in so long, switching careers becomes especially challenging. It is quickly becoming a crisis that I can’t see an easy solution to due to the stubborn refusal and presumptions of too many.
You are young, Cara. Younger than you know. <3
Emily, you’re so right, at times it can feel like agony. Love your words “to be her right now, a tragedy.” At the beginning, we are inspired to be “believers, nurturers and dreamers.’ Great job. Thank you for this.
So many responses to your poem, because it is so relevant and real for so many throughout our careers and even more now. I agree with Stacey, you are THE ONE your students need right now. Believe that.
Emily — your poem expresses the emotions we are all feeling right now. It is so difficult to be a teacher in our current political climate.
Wow. Thank you. My own poem tonight explores a connected them: Should we be doing this “thing” we love/loved? Sending an echo. XO
only light
all that’s broken has cracks of light
we know wrong and we know what’s right
marginalized deserve our sight
bring to light, bring to light
only light can drive out darkness
it seems to me the world in force
is saying we must change our course
hopeful future we must endorse
light is the source, light is the source
only light can drive out darkness
the time is now for voices bright
words we speak and pages we write
truth, love, justice are worth the fight
shimmer with light, shimmer with light
only light can drive out darkness
Your first line “all that’s broken has cracks of light” sets the hopeful tone of your poem. This is beautifully written with a beautiful message.
Maureen,
I love the refrain of the MLK quote, and how you carry the image of light throughout. This should be put on a poster or at least a post!
Maureen, you’ve written a beautiful and hope-inspiring poem that I’m sure Dr. King must also be cheering about! We need more of this in the world, in our classrooms, schools, households, everywhere!
This poems is a shimmering light! ?
Maureen — This stanza really resonates with me:
the time is now for voices bright
words we speak and pages we write
truth, love, justice are worth the fight
shimmer with light, shimmer with light
Sometimes it feel so much safer to not say anything. To hope that sanity and kindness will prevail, but as you say “only light can drive out darkness” and sometimes we need to move out of our comfort zones and “speak” and “write truth, love, justice”.
Maureen — The hope in this poem feels right. The struggle is worth it…
“drive out darkness”… the life of a teacher… you DO bring light to your students, of that I am certain. Thank you. Susie
Maureen,
I love the hopefulness in your poem and the way it responds to NCTE 22’s theme of pursuing the light. Favorite line: “words we speak and pages we write”
There is justice in joy
Outside my window it seems the
entire middle school spreads across
the soccer field. Lives in movement
without orchestration. Pure joy.
It’s important to hold on to
these moments when so much remains
outside our control. We work to
lead lessons held to a clock. Breathe.
Voices deconstruct ideas locked
in words before each student tries
to put words to their ideas.
Each one working at their own pace.
MsL, is this right? Tell me what
you’re thinking. What makes you think that?
You only need 4 sentences.
A thesis can be revised later.
Questions for me, questions for peers.
Jamie, your first stanza pulled me right in (and thanks for linking to your blog)! I love what my mind sees when reading this:
The much-needed feeling of ease permeates your poem. I’m grateful your students have you, MsL!
♥︎
I see and hear the struggle here, the juxtaposition of the freedom and joy you see in your students at play on the soccer field, the coaxing and instigating you are doing in the classroom…respecting “each one working at their own pace”. Such a thoughtful poem!!
Jamie — I love the narrative structure of this poem, moving from the unstructured moments of school to the structured. Both equally important.
I especially love the image of students playing outside — “lives in movement without orchestration” — so important for this age.
Forms always challenge me in a love/hate sort of way, but today, I’m up for the challenge. I’m still learning to appreciate the process more and be less concerned with the finished product. Thus, today’s effort. Thank you, Stacey!
Dreamward Dreamworld
Each day I wake into the dark
And silently await the spark
That lifts me up to make my mark
I disembark I disembark
Roethke once wrote he wakes to sleep
Dreamtime everywhen holds us deep
Crossing is a dangerous leap
Don’t oversleep Don’t oversleep
Frost lamented the miles to go
Before he could have a pillow
I have a dream said strong and low
Martin’s words glow Martin’s words glow
I embrace the breath of this life
Though every day seems a gainstrife
My attitude is one of blithe
Keeping it lithe Keeping it lithe
Until I return to slumber
I count each hour and each number
Back to rest my body lumbers
Dreamward splendor Dreamworld splendor
Denise,
You certainly embraced the form and process. I love the way your first and last stanzas bookend your poem and the day. The way life is right now sometimes that “spark” is hard to find and the “counting of hours” begins almost immediately. I enjoyed the feeling of hope in your poem.
What a beautiful monotetr! It reads ‘dreamlike,’ soft, lyrical, gliding. I love the ‘big thoughts’ from others that cross into your sleep – Roethke, Frost, Martin Luther King…just beautiful.
Denise,
This feels like a meditation in determination–what we all need to survive this morass of confusion that is a teacher’s world right now. I agree with Maureen that your poem has a soft dreamlike tone to it that soothes and entrances. Well done.
I am not so hot at rhyming, but I love syllable counts! Thank you for the challenging prompt.
We attempt to survive this by
Wearing our masks without a cry
But we will fail, as many defy
Just please comply! Just please comply!
So many noses and chins show
The blatant disregard to know
Our actions aren’t apropos
Mask your air flow! Mask your air flow!
I tire of asking them to care
But ignorance is everywhere
And to challenge is a tense dare
Empathy prayer! Empathy prayer!
The exhaustion will do us in
We will fall into a tailspin
Instead of finding peace within
Don’t be boxed in! Don’t be boxed in!
Oh Cara,
I can feel your frustration here. I know we share a few students who just don’t get it. No matter how you try to get the point across. Sadly many have given up saying anything as they are tired of being ignored, yelled at, or worse. I pray this well get better soon.
Wow, Cara,
I think you aced the counting AND rhyming with this gem. “Empathy prayer” yes!
Your refrains in each verse are powerful with the repetition. It does seem fairly simple, doesn’t it? Things like “Mask your air flow!” we can all do. Frustrating, but writing about it helps.
I feel this, too: “The exhaustion will do us in”! You have captured quite well the tension of life during this pandemic, this tension of individual freedom versus community care. Such a challenging time!
This is good Cara! If only people could hear our cries! Yes, we are exhausted, trapped, unheard. I feel all of this. We need to return to peace, but it’s so difficult when there is so much chaos surrounding us. School used to be the safe haven, now it’s Ground Zero.
Cara, this hits so close to home. The common offenders in the classroom (and in stores) put so many others at risk. Thanks for the relatable poem; it helps to know I am not alone in the frustration!
Cara, this speaks to me and your selected words are perfect. My favorite stanza is” So many noses and chins show
The blatant disregard to know
Our actions aren’t apropos
Mask your air flow! Mask your air flow!”
It speaks to the fact that so many students don’t seem to understand the purpose of the mask sometimes. Your chosen words ” exhaustion, empathy, ignorance, please comply, tailspin” were spot on. I really enjoyed reading this and I feel we all collectively know how you feel. Thank you for this.
Cara, I’m with you! “So many noses”! Keep fighting the good fight and asking them to “please make sure your mask covers both your mouth and your nose.” This is my constant refrain at the start of every class, and, yep, it is exhausting. Thanks for writing and sharing!
Oh good heavens, yes. Sometimes I think I’m going to scream if I have to say “pull up your mask,” one more time. But I know I’ll be saying it first period tomorrow! I like “so many noses,” and “empathy prayer” especially.
That Time I Tried to Write a Monotetra in Response to a Writing Prompt but Ended with a Jumbled Mess
Or
IYKYK
a confluence
of sorts
or a type
of existential
malaise,
I guess,
a multitasking
fail,
for sure,
multiple tabs
pulling focus
from these
ungraded essays:
listening
to Bo Burnham’s
“That Funny Feeling”
on repeat
coupled with
the “This Is Fine”
meme
and a tweet*
posted by
a Mini
Service
Horse
named Flirty
yep
* @FlirtyTheSH. “I’d like to cancel my subscription to 2022, I’ve experienced the 14 day
free trial and I’m not interested anymore.” Twitter, 14 Jan. 2022, 7:46 p.m.,
twitter.com/FlirtyTheSH/status/1482152256824872960.
Scott, you always make me smile! The confluence, malaise, and epic fail. Yep. Been there. More often than I should admit. And I think FlirtyTheSH has it right.
Scott, you are a kick! Your title is perfect, and the “jumbled mess” is a delight to behold. All the best on grading the essays!
I did not know “IYKYK”, so you drew me into your poem with my google search for understanding! (now IK) This is wonderful, Scott! I totally relate to the image of “multiple tabs/pulling focus.”
Hi Scott! Thank you for this poem! I love the levity and conversational tone.
LOL, Scott, you are hilarious! I knew from the title that this would be another fun poem by you! Thank you for NOT writing the monotetra! I much preferred this poem than the monotetra that would’ve been forced. ?
I, too, have ungraded work and too many tabs open. You aren’t alone, my friend!
Thank you Stacey for the prompts these last two days. I have missed this group and the inspiration. Happy New Year to all!
Ten years Old Again
Falling and bruising some bones
Has produced a lot of groans.
Skating I tried, flipped over stones.
Why can’t I be ten years old again?
At my age I am still wide-eyed.
Cartwheels and somersaults I tried
then my arms gave out. Could have died!
Wish I was ten years old again.
Hard as I can, pump on that swing
Reaching the sky, jump with a spring
to the ground. Here’s the thing:
I bump my head, knees collapsing.
Trying to be ten years old again.
This brain remembers, says “Yes, go!”
But body rebels, shouts out “No!
You move too slow, too many creaks.”
You can’t be ten years old again!
Susan, this is perfect for how it feels for me to be aging. The memory of the cartwheels, climbing trees, skating, and more are as vivid as when I was ten. However, the body is not willing!
Perfectly said here:
Susan, I know what you mean! I would love to be able to jump again, but my knees can’t take it. And when you do fall, it’s as though an earthquake happens in your body. Oh, to be 10 again! You said it so well!
Oh, Susan . . . the joy of being ten and the OUCH of realizing how far we are from being able to do those joy-filled things!
You capture it so well.
Stacey, in answer to the question you asked yesterday, yes, I am fixing things in our new (old) fixer-upper out near Joshua Tree. It’s consuming most of my time these days–thus my poems are so far on topic this week.
Thank you for resurrecting your 2020 poem. That is my prayer–judgment day for our society that justifies this:
Amen! May that judgment be so and soon!
Advice for 2022
Note to self: Watch for what astounds
Make the high desert your playground
Let love guide you as hope abounds
Simply resound, simply resound
Curb your buyological urge
Leave Amazon and on love splurge
Let each day thoroughly emerge
Simplify surge, simplify surge
Goodbye clutter. It’s a new year
Make do, create, and have no fear
Do keep your priorities clear
Simplify here, simplify here
What a special, creative time for you, settling into your new/old home! I love these lines:
I am soaking in the repetition of the ends of your stanzas. I love repeating them. “Simply resound. Simplify surge. Simplify here.”
Denise,
I love your echoing final lines of each stanza!
This is too clever: “Curb your buyological urge / Leave Amazon and on love splurge” The conjunction of consumerism and biology is witty and worthy of pondering further. Thank you, too, for these (seemingly) simple resolutions to be intentional about where to spend money/energy (but often it is easier said than done!)
Denise — I’m going to try my best to take heed of your message here…it’s gonna be tough…”leave Amazon” …oh Lordy, can I? Yikes! I want to in the worst way and find myself the moth to the street light…darn.
Denise,
This is the prefect resolution for your fresh start. Getting rid of Amazon is the best goal. Channel your inner Marie Kondo!
Stacey, Thank you for today’s prompt and powerful poem. This image stood out to me—wow, just wow.
Your poem stirred up in me the frustration I’m feeling about the lack of insight some people, including some friends, have about the virus. I have a friend who is hospitalized with COVID now. She doesn’t believe in following protocol regarding the spread of the virus. I can’t help but wonder how many lives would have been saved if everyone had listened.
To Those Who Will Not Comply
By Nancy White
I see the maskless and I cry
I shake my head and wonder why
Alone, on oxygen they die
Too soon, I bid my friends goodbye
Still some refuse to vaccinate
Their selfish pride, a form of hate
Not thinking, they communicate
A smugness in their feckless “faith”
I’m angry at stupidity
Misinformation flying free
You’re hurting you, you’re hurting me
Perpetuating fallacy
And in God’s name you think you’re free
You think God loves you more than me
I hope he gives me empathy
Now that you’re dying can you see?
You have painted my heartache too. I’m baffled at how such an advanced society as ours can be so stupid…to the point of death. Not even the case of one’s own death has changed enough minds.
Oh, Nancy, my heart breaks reading this! I have tears. We have lost so many.
Wow, Nancy, how powerful this is! “A smugness in their feckless ‘faith'” really speaks to me today. I have sadly known some of these ones. Yes, “I hope he gives me empathy” too.
Thank you for this. I can feel the urge and pain in these lines. Thank you for putting into words what I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs.
THIS NEEDS TO BE SHARED WIDELY! I am sick and tired of the idiots who continue to put everyone and themselves at risk. Your poem speaks to all of them and validates the anger we all have too.
Thank you, Nancy. I hope you find peace with your friend, one way or another.
Stacey, your prompt today is especially challenging for me because I struggle with rhyming, but I tried to do my best. I love your poem. I was especially moved by the line: “From ripened wombs you killed our seed”. My poem’s title comes from a quote from a film I watched years ago but it resonated for me.
Endeavor to Persevere
Endeavor to step towards hope
Shelter broken smiles and cope
Listen with open heart to scope
A world of hope! A world of hope!
When shameful haters come along
Bury them deep where they belong
Sing over their graves sweet swan songs
Be brave and strong! Be brave and strong!
Be the calm light along the way
Where one lost soul might choose to stay
To rise above the fray and pray
Stay true each day! Stay true each day!
Barb Edler
16 January 2022
Barb,
Your poem is one I must return to! I think I need to print it out and put it on my desk at school.
“Be the calm light along the way where one lost soul might choose to stay.” This line helps me remember why I became a teacher some 40 years ago. Even with how challenging things are right now, I need to remember my “why.”
Thank you for sharing.
What, there is clearly no sign of struggle here! This is a phenomenal poem. And let me add that I listened to a morning prayer the other day and the message was about being the light for someone else who may be in darkness. Your poem affirms that!
I’m glad you persevered and shared this important poem with us.
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Barb — Yes! This is a strong voice that resonates with me…”step toward hope”… “be the calm light”… I felt the burn in the 2nd stanza…”shameful haters”…I will never understand those folks…it takes so much energy to invest in hate…I love that stanza a lot! I love the goodness in this poem…it fits you, my friend…you good person you! Hugs, Susie
Stacey,
Thank you for the wonderful prompt and the encouragement to try something new. Getting older and the challenges that come along with aging has been in my mind lately.
Embrace what life offers today.
Worry not; it will be okay.
It’s time to chase the doubts away.
Our life-long love is here to stay.
Sometimes the days seem long & gray.
On those dark days we need to pray
to keep the lonesome fears at bay.
Our life-long love is here to stay.
No matter what May cause dismay,
together we will find a way
to see life as a sweet bouquet.
Our life-long love is here to stay.
Rita, your poem is just right for me today.
Our church had to cease in person worship services because of the spread of Omicron in our neighborhoods. We tried using FB steam and the person posting forgot to make the stream public. It was frustrating for many. Then, I read your poem and the closing stanza said it for me. You may not have be talking precisely about God, but through your poem I see Him. Thanks.
No matter what May cause dismay,
together we will find a way
to see life as a sweet bouquet.
Our life-long love is here to stay.
Rita, these words brought me hope and encouragement. I especially love the last line:
Rita, boy, can I relate to your poem. I’ve been really struggling with my health lately and have had many thoughts about what I need to say before it’s too late. Absolutely loved “to see life as a sweet bouquet”! Thank you!
Rita, thank you for reminding us…
I feel the same as you and I need to focus on TODAY’s gifts and blessings!
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Rita, I was surprised and delighted by the build-up of your rhyme to the word “bouquet.” I didn’t see that coming, so thank you! (And I really like the advice of “Embrac[ing] what life offers today.”)
Yes Stacy Joy! This line “Land of the free! Land of the free?” resonated with me. You gave me some inspiration, so thank you for resurrecting your poem from 2020 because here were are again and again… I admit this was difficult for me! Not the rhyming part, but the syllable part. Challenge accepted!
Be You 2022!
Yes, be different Twenty-Two!
No knees on necks, faces turned blue!
Don’t call it a mob, the crowd grew!
Cam lens on you, cam lens on you!
Audacity sang and lies used,
Lady Lib no longer amused.
Media has truly bemused,
The same excused, the same excused.
Woke or sleep, no one can decide,
Unblind justice, mouth open wide.
Old wounds open, bandage applied,
Seeing cross-eyed, seeing cross-eyed.
Jessica, my whole head started to buzz and tingle while reading your poem. Wow! This is so prevalent. Your lines of repetition are especially effective, and I feel exactly as you describe: “Seeing cross-eyed”. Outstanding poem and message!
Thank you so much! Poetry is my jam, but I don’t get to write often. I usually write to escape, but this one was written as more awareness!
Be You has been our school theme this year. We’re trying to hold on to it. Maybe I should wear my t-shirt more frequently as a reminder. I like your ending refrains. The syllables give your writing a feeling of connectivity. Hoping for a new year!
Thank you so much Jamie. I believe that’s a great theme, we just need to own it and instill that within our students. Nobody’s more original than ourselves!
Yes, be different Twenty-Two! That refrain will be in my head for a while. I hope a long time and we make it a better year. I am moved by old wounds open, bandage applied. We have had enough!
Yes Susan, it’s like a modern day Groundhog Day. But enough is enough!
Thank you for this poem, Jessica. I pray that 2022 is different, much must change!
I love the words “unblind justice” wow, powerful!
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You’re welcome Stacey, thank you for the inspiration and the desire to go back and write more!
Jessica, your words resonate so powerfully. And the strength of the repeated lines work so effectively at the end of each stanza, but also when you read them as just a trio – I get the sense of the lens turned on those who commit the atrocities being just as much cross-eyed as those who witness it time and again. Powerful stuff here.
Jennifer, I never thought of it that way. Thank you!
Hello all! This poem was inspired by the prompt to “pursue peace, hope and change” (thanks Stacey!) and my desire to be playful when attempting a new format.
Puppy’s New Toy
Oh the joy of something squeaky
or the thrill of something bouncy.
Plus, the charm of something bumpy.
Simple wonder, Simple wonder
By every snowflake, enchanted.
Every fallen stick, emboldened.
fluttering leaf, levitated.
Ignite wonder, Ignite wonder.
Brittany, we recently took a long walk through the woods in the snow, identifying animals by their tracks. Dogs were easy as they bound from one thing to the next, never in a straight line, investigating all. You capture that energy and joy through the pup’s new toy, whether it’s the snowflake or the stick. Simple wonder, indeed!
Brittany, I love the playfulness of your poem. I love your final lines. Simple wonders and igniting wonder…such a perfect message.
So happy…so fun! I love all the “y” sounds.
Ahh! Yes, I wish I could be so enchanted and full of wonder that is seen in this little puppy’s joy. Thanks!
Your two stanzas share the thrill and image of the puppy’s playful moves. Fun words in the first stanza. Rich images in the second stanza.
Teaching is Reaching
Some days my welcoming arms don’t seem to work
I reach out to my students, they shrink back and shirk.
“What are we doing today!
“Why can’t we just play?
When we’re reading that stuff by those old dead white men
They ask, “Why should they care what happened back then?”
Teaching is reaching those who don’t care.
Our task is to show how words help us share
Our thoughts and our feelings
Our hurts and our healings.
Teaching is reaching that smart kid who kids others,
Who thinks ‘cause he’s smart, they’re not his brothers.
Teaching is reaching that shy new young lady
Who thinks her teacher’s just a bit shady
For not telling the story about her people right
Marking her down when White English she don’t write.
Teaching is reaching deep inside ourselves
Learning to teach what we come to know is true.
Learning to expand towards horizons that are new.
Teaching is reaching and the work may be hard
But we’re learners. Let’s get A’s on our report card!
Anna,
You capture the challenge of being a teacher today. Each year things change – kids, parents, environments, yet teachers keep striving to reach those students who sit in front of us each day as well as teaching within ourselves. Beautiful!
Anna — This is a real teacher’s calling poem. I love the guidance and wisdom that comes with each “teaching is reaching”… the repetitions really work! I sure can hear those student voices questioning “why… why… why”… made me smile. Helping kids find that answer and the love of learning…heck, teachers are asked to do much! LOL! Good heavens, we are handed a heavy responsibility. Poems like this help us along the journey. Thank you. Susie
Anna, how well you capture the sense of futility that sometimes plagues teachers when “welcoming arms don’t seem to work” and the students seem unmotivated… AND the wisdom of the teacher, who sees each student as an individual human with unlimited potential. Teachers rally and press on because we believe in the work and in the kids, which is exactly the place where your poem leads us! Much truth and encouragement here.
Anna, these past two weeks I’ve been teaching my five year old grandson from home due to Omicron in his school. I must say teaching is exhausting! Since being retired, I have forgotten just how ON you have to be, constantly interacting, answering hundreds of questions including
Why can’t we just play?
Teaching IS reaching. It is becoming fully immersed in a child’s world while being orchestrator, caregiver, and fun provider. Seeing my grandson’s face light up when I let him play my electric rock guitar was priceless.
Anna, your wisdom is so evident throughout this poem. I love how you embrace the various learners throughout your poem. “Teaching is reaching deep inside ourselves”…ain’t it the truth! I think that is a part of the educational world that others fail to realize. Love the positive challenge at the end of your poem! Bless you for your insightful poem today!
I love the first two lines…they are such a helpful reminder that we are not alone, and also how powerful well chosen words are for our peers as well as our students. Thank you!
Anna, this is FIRE!!!
I don’t want to copy and paste the whole poem, but I surely could! Every line, every message, raw and honest truth! If we could fill every classroom with “reacher teachers” we would be able to change the trajectory of children’s lives.
Bravo my friend, bravo!
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Anna, you’ve magnificently captured the difficulties of a teacher. “Teaching is reaching those who don’t care.
Our task is to show how words help us share” Those lines of yours really are the crux of what we do and explain one of our daily challenges. Thank you for this. Its wonderful.
Stacey, thank you for this prompt! Your mentor poem is awe inspiring. The line “chains remain where your statues stand was especially resounding, I felt.
My poem took a different turn, and I feel it missed the mark I was aiming for, but it was still fun to write. Thanks for the opportunity!
Fallen Heroine’s Journey
This princess ain’t no beauty queen
Crown’s knocked off, bent and lost it’s sheen,
This fatal flaw has done me in.
Walk on, walk on.
But beauty nothing can impart,
Its from the purity of heart
That our nobility starts.
Walk on, walk on.
So I wear this scarlet letter
To crown a heart in fetters
Step by step, I am a debtor.
Walk on, walk on.
Emily,
I am not sure what you were going for, but I enjoyed your poem. I liked how you wove beauty throughout while still walking on.
I love the marching-esque rhythm and the resilient refrain and how you paired it with this message. The lines, “But beauty nothing can impart / Its from the purity of heart” are a good reminder to all. Thanks for writing today
Emily, I love how your poem connects to the Scarlet Letter. The importance of what is inside the heart is what I found particularly striking, and I love the repetition of “Walk on, walk on”. Those actions are not always easy to take. Very cool poem!
Emily, yes! I am worn out from wondering what aging will do to me next. I’m going to start looking in the mirror and saying…
“Walk on, walk on!”
I love it!
Emily,
Like all good writing, your poem can be interpreted multiple ways. We each bring an interpretation that reflects our own lens and see what we think is there. I love that there is enough unsaid that we have to fill in our own thoughts.
[Note: I took a bit of a detour with this one this morning, finding myself reading Stacey’s powerful poem and then reading W.E.B DuBois’ poem in Poets.org (the daily poem), “The Song of Smoke.” I was drawn to the power and determination of fire to rekindle. Here’s where I landed. Susie]
Fire to Slow Burn to Fire
As night settles heavy in the air
and the bonfire burns through the easy fare,
dry logs and leaves aflame yield to embers —
the power of slow burn always remembers
and has its way;
no need to flash and crackle in the dark
popping beetles wheedled into bark,
no need to light the creekside camp,
eyes have shuttered and night grows damp,
sleep has its way;
white heat calms herself into an embered glow
while hickory loosens its rings but won’t let go,
in tune with a night of measured breathing,
an ebb and flow of heat, a sort of teasing,
slow burn has her way;
persisting through the dew,
till morning hints and day breaks new,
and still she lingers
burning cycles, singeing fingers,
fire to slow burn to fire has her way.
by Susie Morice, January 16, 2022©
Susie, I cannot stop playing with the title – reading it in two phrases (fire to slow; burn to fire), reading it with slow burn as a compound noun – and all that brings to this idea of something ebbing and flowing, wavering and rising. Ohhh! That power of slow burn, remembering and having its way. Much like a fire, I’m mesmerized to continue looking into your words today, watching as they flicker and weave.
Susie, your closing stanza give me hope that this will be the hope and personal qualities that carry us through … not just this week, this month, or even this year. Through life:
persisting through the dew,
till morning hints and day breaks new,
and still she lingers
burning cycles, singeing fingers,
fire to slow burn to fire has her way.
We may get some bruises from the burn of being the light, carrying the light, but we will persist!
Thanks for the battle cry!
Utterly captivating, Susie. “The power of slow burn always remembers” combined with that ember glow and loosening rings but not letting go – oh, that slow burn WILL have her way. These images will be lingering with me today as I watch the snow outside turning to ice…the power of rekindling…an incredible metaphor, in countless ways.
Wow does not say it strong enough, Susie. The strength and determination of fire is fiercely evident throughout this poem. I love your use of descriptive details and the constant movement you create from the shuttered eyes to the measured breathing to the singeing fingers. All offer a precise image and sensory response. I’m mesmerized by the emotion of conquering and tenacious presence of the fire throughout this. Love that she is personified as a female, too. Gorgeous and thought-provoking poem! Brilliant!
I love the sounds and the memories of camping this poem evokes:
no need to flash and crackle in the dark
popping beetles wheedled into bark,
no need to light the creekside camp,
eyes have shuttered and night grows damp,
sleep has its way
and also the powerful metaphor for our perseverance. Thank goodness for this fellowship!
Hello Susie! I so adore your poem. I love the imagery and romance of a nighttime camp coupled with a soft but fierce persistence.
Again, another doozie from Susie! Girl, how do you do what you do? I still want that class where you’re teaching me how to write! I was first captivated by the title, not knowing what to expect. I didn’t read the daily poem because I only needed your poem to take me in. I traveled through your poem like a bystander, watching all the fires and embers on their paths. This is simply incredible! I love that the pronoun is she/her in the last 2 stanzas!
Standing and clapping!
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Stacey,
Thank you for the lovely gift from Amanda Gorman. She’s a force.
(When I read her on paper, I can hear her voice.)
I wish I could pinpoint one or two lines that I loved in her poem, but she makes such magic with each line that it’s just impossible.
I loved your powerful piece.
This beautiful metaphor: “Chains remain where your statues stand”
And, like Gorman’s, there were so many diamonds in your poem that I can’t even mine it for individual ones — they just make a beautiful jewel of a poem. <3
Here’s my offering for today:
Tooth and Nail
Sleep elusive, tossing, turning
World is freezing, world is burning
Childhood dreams – they find me yearning
Grind, Grind, Grind.
Every evening yawns before me
In the wake of wings that bore me
Mind unruh and body sorely
Grind, Grind, Grind.
Through the fog and through the chatter
Nothing really seems to matter
Good intentions seems to shatter
Grind, Grind, Grind.
Bruised and broke but persevering
Resolve to quit this calling nearing
“I almost called you mom,” I’m hearing.
So…Grind, Grind, Grind.
Wendy, that repetition of “grind, grind, grind” speaks not only to the grind of daily life with all its demands, but also of the toll it takes on the mind and body. The ennui, the fog…and “good intentions seem to shatter” – all too true! I especially love how the title does its own special thing here – set us up for the battle you reveal in your lyrical lines.
The repetition of “grind, grind, grind” is powerful! The line “good intentions seems to shatter” also stands out to me as particularly powerful.
Wendy — I was drawn to you poem immediately…the “grind” repetition really works to deliver the rawness in the “fog” and “sleep elusive” and “bruise”… good words! And in the end “persevering/Resolve”…strong stance against the ache in the early stanzas. I also love how your poem sounds when I read it aloud… terrific! Thank you. Susie
Wendy! This is voicing all I’m feeling. The rhythm, the repetition, the churning created emphasize that grind, grind, grind. And gosh, yawning evenings and nearing resolutions just say it all for teachers (and parents) everywhere. How can our world be both simultaneously burning and freezing, and yet, here we are. Truth.
Wendy, you’ve got me thinking and wondering! I’m thinking about grinding teeth, grinding nails, our daily grinds. Wow. Thinking about the constant pushing and pulling we all seem to experience these days and wondering why there’s so little rest.
I’m feeling the ending stanza to my core!
You “nailed” this one!????????
Thank you for the dual challenges to write a Monotetra and to open up my copy of Call Us What We Carry. I am carrying my feelings over a situation for my own Judgement Day. My word for the year is compassion; sometimes we need to be careful of what we ask for… last week, when a student sitting in my classroom chatted the most horrible things ever said about me. So, this is today’s response:
Manifest in me compassion.
I did not want this to happen.
Words flung at me from place of passion.
Failed connection. What’s the lesson?
Breathe in, breathe out then let it go.
A hurting child has let it show.
The teacher should be in the know,
Not pulled out by undertow.
Winter’s sun is not always thin.
Open the blinds and let it in.
Reflected off snow it makes me grin.
Time is ticking. Love is winning.
Wow, this poem has so much hope in it! I think I needed to read it. “Time is ticking. Love is winning,” will stay with me today.
Eden, this could be the second verse in the poem I posted today! Teaching is tough, things may be rough, but doing what you say will help deal with the stuff!
Breathe in, breathe out then let it go.
A hurting child has let it show.
The teacher should be in the know,
Not pulled out by undertow.
Glad you’ve joined and are sharing stories that teach and encourage.
Manifest in me compassion is a strong prayerful response to attack. I hope love is winning.
Good morning, teacher writer friends! I’m deeply grateful for yesterday’s writing and anticipate today’s writing even more. I hope whoever needs to see this post first will respond. I have an extra copy of Amanda’s book Call Us What We Carry and it is only befitting to offer it to the first taker! Who wants it? Send me an email with your mailing information AFTER you respond here that you are the one! ?
My email: joyjoyteam@gmail.com
Just saw – has anyone else asked?? If not – I am!
You win!! Send me your information and I’ll make sure to mail it off to you! Yay!
YEA!! On it right now! Thank you, Stacey!
I’m sorry I missed this chance. Congrats, Fran!
Last year was a tough one for me, on both a macro and micro level. I seized on the words, scraped hollow, as a perfect metaphor for the months in which I thought I might lose my husband. Gratefully, he survived and is working toward a healthier life. I value each day now. I only hope the world can catch up…
Refilled
I did not know what love could cost
Scraped hollow, lost in a forest
Of despair, a netherworld of loss
Or survival. Which would you choose?
But then you chose life, in the end-
Or in the beginning, my friend.
For now we have begun once again.
Our life together rekindled.
Our old love (for we are old, dear)
Was assumptive, just as we were.
40 years married does that, I fear.
But now, our lives are born anew.
We have, unearned, a second dance
Never again to presume our chances
Once scraped hollow,
We are now refilled.
GJ Sands 1/2021
Gayle, this was lovely! My favorite things:
Beautiful! Thank you for it.
Gayle, the rekindled love that is no longer assumptive but deliberate and CHOSEN, knowing the cost, is a testament to steadfast commitment! The reconsideration as hearts pause and really think about the depth of love brings such hope and assurance! Thank you for sharing your joy with us!
Gosh, Gayle — This is really such an uplifting sense of possibility and embracing a “second chance.” Wow! I want a piece of that! The “scraped hollow” really fits with your poem’s journey. I’m so grateful for you two to be in this new place. I love the hope here. Hugs, Susie
Oh, this sends a zing of precious hopefulness through heart! I particularly like “our old love (for we are old, my love).
I love this tribute to the power of staying, the hope, and the humility:
We have, unearned, a second dance
Never again to presume our chances.
I also noticed how the I at the beginning of the poem turns to we by the end! Thank you for sharing this.
I’m blown away by this poem, what a love poem! That long love that gets us through whatever we need to get through. I’ve been married close to 40 years and it can sometimes feel “assumptive”. I’m happy you have this “second dance.”
Gayle, there’s nothing more miraculous than second chances to live! Wow, I’ve read your poem several times and each time I see the two of you in such a vivid and glowing light. You deserve this chance to live again in new “old love” with your husband. I’m grateful! Imagining that someone needed to read this just to know there’s always hope!
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I am spending time this weekend with my daughter and my grandson. Thanks for this prompt to help me realize and put into words what this time means to me. I borrowed “justice in joy” from Amanda Gorman.
Can I find the justice in joy?
Handle heavy weight of annoy?
Spend more time with this little boy
playing with his favorite toy
to find my joy. To find my joy.
Good morning, Margaret! I am in total love with your poem. I spent yesterday evening with my great niece and I felt unspeakable joy the entire time.
I say, yes, you can find your joy if you
Enjoy every single moment!
Joy, like awe, like peace, can always be found if we seek…and how can one not feel absolute joy in moments spent with a little grandchild, finding joy in his toy? There is a justice, a truth, a purity in that kind of joy. Your words guide us to savor, Margaret.
Margaret, you are blessed to spend time with your grandson and watch his innocent joy in the simplicity of each moment of play. There is truly nothing like a baby to restore our hope and change our outlook for the better!
Margaret, nothing is more joyful than a child. This pulls me back to when my own two were little boys and the freedom and celebration of play. Let’s find more of those moments. Thank you for reminding us.
I’m smiling ear to ear! Thank you for sharing this sweet little window into your weekend. To find my joy! Will be repeating this to myself all afternoon.
With a nod to both Stacey and Amanda, two extraordinary poets, and the seeds they’ve planted, I have borrowed ideas to write with today. Stacey, your poem resonates just as powerfully today as it did in 2020.
We shall make mountains
From particles and grains of sand
Shifting, collapsing within our hands
We shall make mountains
From atoms cast afar then caught
Within ourselves a world is wrought
We shall build universes
From sparks and fire, ideas form
Into being, a firefly storm
We shall light caverns
From oceans’ waves, their rise and fall
Unharnessed, a tsunami wall
We shall braid water
In a word, Jennifer: Masterful! I see Stacey’s braiding water there…a stark contrast to lighting caverns, building universes, making mountains… all begging the question: Are we using our power for good? So much to contemplate here in every searing, beautiful, haunting line.
I loved Stacey’s line about braiding water and how you have reused it here. I’m hopeful your refrain is true. We shall make mountains.
Jennifer,
I feel the impossible and the setbacks becoming possible and successful in these words you share today. The repetition in the from….and we shall…..creates rich imagery of some things falling apart and being rebuilt, down to the fluidity of using
the abundance of water to….braid! To masterfully use resources to RE SOURCE our efforts as we come together to build mountains!
Oh, what a lovely picture!
Jennifer,
I loved the power of this poem and the way you played on the inspiration you gained from both Amanda’s and Stacey’s pieces!
My favorite descriptions:
“a firefly storm”
“Unharnessed, a tsunami wall”
…but it’s hard to love them in isolation from the rest of your poem. I love its hopefulness!
Oh, Jennifer, good for you! You’ve braided some of Stacey’s water! I love that! Your poem has a powerful sense of hope…”we shall… we shall…” Geez, I hope so. I particularly love
And bringing in light in the third stanza…yes! “firefly storm”…bring that darkness into light. It actually feels like we could “braid water.”
Happy Sunday, my friend! Susie
I love the possibility each element holds. The first stanza reminds of Angle of Repose, a favorite Stegner novel. The atoms to universes is so powerful – from the smallest to the greatest. Even fire serves a productive (not destructive) role. And I love the last line, I try to imagine braided water. Beautiful.
Hi Jennifer! I love the movement back and forth between small and giant (particles of sand to mountains, atoms to universes). Then in the last stanza, I feel the enormity of a tsunami wall back to something smaller, a braid. Beautiful!
Jennifer, I want to shout “Yes we can!” to all of this. We shall is so biblical to me, but it rings with authority. We shall make mountains, with the avalanche of sand. We shall build universes with the planets and cosmic objects. We shall light caverns, together with our lights put together. We hall braid water, impossible…NOT!
Stacey – the heart’s cry for justice in your verse is palpable. Raw, real, filled with anguish and mourning. Your line “Upon your soil we cry and bleed”… cannot help thinking about spilled blood crying out from the ground to God… most of all I admire your passion and the power with which you write it. Thank you for resharing this poem today and also for revisiting the monotetra. I cannot recall writing one before, so I am giving it a shot…
Winter Meditation
On this dark morning, falling snow
fills the spirit with candleglow
the bliss-blessed silence, calling so:
Hush. Take it slow. Hush. Take it slow.
Claim the quiet for your healing
be free as the hawk, a-wheeling
your crystal-scoured heart revealing
wounds are sealing, wounds are sealing.
For now, nature’s red tooth and claw
newly blanketed, without flaw
is still, peace-covered, filled with awe.
Time to withdraw, time to withdraw.
What an incredible sense of place…a peaceful place you’ve painted here. And, I spy with my little eye, “awe.” “falling snow as candleglow” is as gorgeous hawk a-wheeling. Such a well-crafted poem. All the lines are tight and hold together.
Fran, ‘bliss-blessed silence” evokes all you share – the darkness, falling snow, candle-glow, hush and slowness. I yearn for that (and need to do more claiming). You’ve masted the monotetra on this first try! And beautifully so. I will revisit this today, especially when I feel the frenzy start to build. Thank you.
Fran, I see and feel the awe in your words today. This bliss-blessed silence in the cozy warmth of home, the hush and peace of nature’s blanket that brings about the calm reassurance of the need for silence and a time to withdraw and heal, and take it slow – – it all paints the image of a lovely rural quiet that is known AND FELT in so few remaining places. Enjoy the hush. I can guess what is on your feet right now and that they are propped by the fire with paper,
pen,
and book!
Such beauty.
I love how you worked your word “awe” into this lovely, peaceful poem. Hush. Take it slow. Lovely meditation on a cold winter morning.
Fran,
WOW. This evoked (and invoked) such a sense of peace. Your descriptions and choice of words! For a poem to capture a moment so beautifully: I love, love, loved it.
Fran — This really is a meditation. There’s a rhythm here that acknowledges the difficult (wounds…red tooth and claw) but takes us to a calmer place…meditative. Lovely! Thank you! Susie
Fran, I needed this reminder. I’ve been promising myself to slow down and stop the incessant “busy-ness” as much as possible. This morning, I was driving and embraced the beauty of the clouds after yesterday’s rain. It was so breathtaking, I turned the music down and whispered “thank you.” I heard my spirit saying I would’ve missed that beauty if I hadn’t slowed down to notice it.
This speaks to me:
And of course:
Thank you!! ?
Stacey,
The monotetra form you bring today to stretch us as writers is both creative and challenging – which is the sweet spot for growing as a writer. Thank you for hosting us today and investing in us! Your lines are so heartfelt and show the injustice right to the very roots of this nation. These lines are most powerful and bring such imagery to me:
From ripened wombs you killed our seed
Land of the free! Land of the free?
Your ! And ? Are attention-getting marks that make us stop and realize the truth. Those ripened wombs, and killing the seed depict the graphic truth of what was robbed and how unfair. You have written a masterpiece!
I chose to write my monotetra on my OLW today.
Listen
listening takes more than clean ears
listening’s more than what one hears
it may mean one exposes fears
it evokes tears, it evokes tears
to listen takes an open heart
to listen may bring a fresh start
or may rejoin things torn apart
wisdom impart, wisdom impart
listen! healing lives deep inside
listen! heart and soul open wide
expressed truths within us abide
beneath implied, beyond implied
I love what I’m learning from you here…from the comments on Stacey’s poem to what it takes to listen. I love that you are dancing with your olw this way. Everything that is instruction for the reader is instruction for the writer, too. The words fears, torn apart and then healing make me sigh. Thank you. “beneath and beyond” is a wonderful space to comntemplate. Thank you for this one!
Kim, amid all the truths you capture here with your OLW “listen,” this one strikes deepest with me: “May rejoin things torn apart.” It begs the reader to consider how listening might do this, and that it has the power to do this. Listening does impart wisdom, healing, a willingness to expose (and recognize) fears, and may very well evoke tears. All words to live by, and listen by. Your poem is a much-needed reminder – listen, and do so with an open heart. Thank you for this!
Kim, the rejoining and healing and opening of hearts is so welcome as we walk into 2022 with hope and love in mind. I love that you brought us your OSW again today, sharing and acknowledging its strength. I’m vowing to listen more.
“Expressed truths within us abide” if we just listen, heart to heart. A wonderful poem to your OLW!
Hi, Kim — The cadence of your poem really works like a mantra. I so appreciate the lesson in your words…stopping to truly listen, indeed. You could put this on a poster in your classroom…recite it at every PD session… this is a guiding poem. Thank you! Susie
Kim, I whole-heartedly feel called to listen! I feel my spirit nudging me to be quiet more and listen! Thank you for this call to action.
Love:
Beautiful, my friend!
Stacey,
Thank you so much for incorporating Amanda Gorman into today’s inspiration. We just worked with her in class, and her work inspires so much. I also appreciate the push into a structured form as that is typically my struggle.
I decided to pull lines from Amanda’s newly released poem “New Day’s Lyric” and use them to drive each stanza.
She Says
She says, “Mourning we come to mend”
to the future we have to send
the message that we ALL can tend
to others and not just ourselves.
She says, “What was cursed, we cure”
not just my aches but also yours
on track, but willing to detour
if someone’s ideas change us.
She says, “Come, look up with kindness yet”
holding too tight at times we regret
it’s not just our own tables we need to set
but invite others to join our party..
She says, “Those moments we missed”
yet finding that others exist
to add to our memory’s list
of treasured times in our hearts.
She says, “Heed this old spirit”
but ALL don’t need to hear it
from our own hearts we may need to clear it
and let others do cleaning of their own.
She says, “Now all together beat”
with others we might not normally meet
it’s time to look up and out and greet
those we don’t typically do.
She says so many wise things
that into my heart hope brings
knowing that we all share strings
of humanity’s interwoven quilt.
~Susan Ahlbrand
16 January 2022
I love how “she says” puts Amanda Gorman’s wisdom and artistry in the forefront of my reading. “humanity’s interwoven quilt” is a beautiful place to end this poem on. Bravo!
Oh, Susan – “humanity’s interwoven quilt” – we forget our interconnectedness, that our stories are woven into one. We make it what it is. So many lines moved me but this especially: “‘What was cursed, we cure’/ not just my aches but also yours”… a vital reminder that we all hurt, we all suffer, that we might be about helping one another heal versus hurting one another more. Gorman provides a glorious springboard and your lines soar with hope and belief. This is a poem to be read each morning before we face the day – yes, let us all be about cleaning our own hearts!
Susan, I agree with you so
fully about the nudge into a new challenge of form and structure – I needed that push today, too! Your use of Gorman’s words and the title is one that brings two
voices together in solidarity as you unify your strong message.
This part is most stirring for
me:
knowing that we all share strings
of humanity’s interwoven quilt.
I love these lines so much – they capture the essence of why I named my blog Common Threads. It’s the same powerful message in Brother Eagle, Sister Sky, which is Chief Seattle’s message to future generations about the interconnected web of life – which is what I always want for
readers – those feelings of connection.
Your words hit home in big ways today! Thank you for sharing your poem today!
Susan — Brava! What a wonderful set of “she says” responses. I really liked what you did with each quote. I think my favorite line is…
I really love the call to reach out and to give rather than take from what lies before us. Lovely! Susie
Ohhhh, Susan, how I love that you introduce her words with “She says…” and I believe that is a technique I will save for later. I’m one for borrowing lines to help me write but never thought to approach it like you did.
Something about these lines reminded me of the Shirley Chisholm quote when she said, “If they don’t give you a seat at the table, bring a folding chair.”
Imagine when everyone can be included and welcomed! I love this poem, Susan.
Did you do the Flipgrid Live event with your class when Amanda read Change Sings and the illustrator shared his techniques? My class and I really enjoyed watching them.
?
Oh Stacey, this poem. It’s so tragic, true, heartfelt. The liberty of some but not all…the loss of loved ones. Thank you for the emotion in so few words, rhymed yet not force. I am wowed by Judgement Day.
I found the word “starlit” in Gorman’s poem.
After Reading Amanda Gorman’s Resolute
We wait in darkness for a bit
linger longer than night permits
pacing, pacing and then we sit
We won’t stir stones we are starlit
Our faces lift and fall and lift
Hope feeds us minute to minute
skein by skein of woolen prayer knit
We don’t stir stones we are starlit
Morning can’t wait a minute
more before putting words to it
Morning birds sing loudly of it
We can’t stir stones we are starlit
The stones are mesmerizing, they can stand for multiple obstacles in life. I appreciate how night and day are alive in your poem.
I love how you seized on “starlit” – that is the power of choosing OLW, the way it brings itself to you and the way your eyes and mind are always on the lookout for it, like radar. And then the magic happens through your fingers as always, Linda. In all the beauty of the images (“skein by skein of woolen prayer knit” – oh, my heart) – I noticed won’t, don’t, can’t with the stirring of stones. Makes me ponder the stones that need stirring and why we won’t, don’t, can’t do it…being starlit having both positive and negative connotations. Mesmerizing poem!
Linda,
I have kept coming back to yours today – it begs to be read again and again and thought about more and more.
These lines have my wondering brows working:
Hope feeds us minute to minute
skein by skein of woolen prayer knit
We don’t stir stones we are starlit
This week, I found some neat bag tags that say “worry less, pray more.” I bought them for a couple of friends who are also, like me, praying diligently for someone in rehab. That image of the skeins of yarn show the ceaseless prayer that it takes but it also shows something else – the soft knitting there to catch them – and catch us- as we move through tough places.
simply beautiful! I’ll keep returning to this today.
How fascinating, Kim. I don’t know where this poem came from. But, I was imagining a hospital waiting room while I wrote it.
I am loving this refrain, “We can’t stir stones; we are starlit.” I am very impressed by your rhymes. “Woolen prayer knit” Yes!
Linda, yes, I concur with every comment already shared. This is a poem to savor and treasure and share more widely. My OLW is faith, and these lines brought faith to mind:
I’m thankful for your poem and for reminding me to keep my OLW in mind, especially when writing poetry.
✞❤︎
Lineage Break
Scarred hands grip the tools of the poor.
Fake flowers adorn the dead man’s door.
Work,sweat,tears,blood in life before.
Heredity, heredity!!
Twisted bones, in his son’s fresh hand.
Spirit speaks “Change life if you can!”
Son opens book, sells Father’s land.
Alterity, alterity!
Hoping to change a poor man’s course,
“ Join me now” he screams with his voice!
Freedom rings with forsaken choice.
Identity, Identity!
“Fake flowers adorn the dead man’s door” What a vivid description. Wow.
I live in a rural area where long-held family farmland is being sold as older generations die. The fields, old barns, woods are being transformed into housing developments. Your poem captures, for me, the cry of the gone generation – so well-done.
Oh my goodness, Boxer! You proclaim
the truth of rural countryside beauty. The land ethic that was once so strong and so valued is no longer the long-held dream in 2022, and it’s positively cryable when I see exactly what you describe here. You have written a true winner! This line make me think deeply. I could ponder this idea for days, weeks:
Freedom rings with forsaken choice.
Gosh, Boxer, you have crafted a moving poem this morning. Wow. I was immediately drawn in with the first stanza. Plenty to behold when we think of all we carry in heredity. Excellent way to open. And bravo on the victorious ending!
Love it!