Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
Our August Open Write Host
Tammi is a Gifted Intervention Specialist and teaches ELA to 5th and 6th graders. As a middle school teacher and Power of the Pen writing coach, Tammi has spent over fifteen years sharing her love of reading, writing and poetry with her students. Tamara lives in a suburb of Cleveland, Ohio with her husband and three children. When she isn’t absorbed in reading young adult literature, she can be found listening to music with her family, enjoying a walk or learning Thai Chi. She is the author of the forthcoming young adult verse novel, Perchance to Dream.
Inspiration
As teachers we frequently encounter reluctant writers. Even among my gifted students who are generally voracious readers, I have discovered reluctant writers. To combat this reluctance, I have utilized many free write and choice prompts options in writing workshop settings in an attempt to encourage writing, but often these good intentions were not enough to engage my reluctant writers. Perhaps freedom of choice was daunting? Perhaps all the white space was just too overwhelming?
Interestingly enough, I discovered that many of my most reluctant writers have gravitated towards poetry. It’s brevity. It’s structure. The patterns. These elements of poetry provided exactly what my students needed in order for them to feel not only competent as writers but also allowed their voices to be heard.
Process
Inspired by Dale Wisely and Robert Scotellaro, the one sentence poem is simply one sentence. There are no restrictions for the one sentence poem. You can tackle any topic.
- Begin by brainstorming a list of topics
- You might choose something you have observed in nature, a quirky character trait or unusual phenomenon in life. Something momentous or something insignificant.
- Your poem may be serious or light-hearted.
- Once you have made a list of topics, consider how this topic can become a micro-story.
- What is the take away from this event?
OR
- Consider how this observation, object, or moment made you feel.
Tammi’s Process
Topic My flower beds
Problem/Event Weeds (the bane of my existence)
Feeling The frustration and futility of weeding
Tammi’s Poem
Futility
Erupting through freshly settled black loam,
nettles and groundsel tangle with
fragile pink impatiens in a death embrace,
and I pull on my gardening gloves and sigh,
knowing the final outcome won’t be any different.
by Tamara Belko © 2021You can find more one sentence poems at link below:
http://www.onesentencepoems.com/osp/?p=6469
Teaching Idea: When students return to school in the fall, challenge them to write about their summer in a one sentence poem. Or have students write a one-sentence identity poem which highlights their passions and interests.
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.
Tuesday was our second day of school with students. I felt a physical sense of depletion at the end of the day and went to bed at 7:30 without writing my poem. It was the first time I did not write my VerseLove/ OpenWrite poem on the “assigned” day since I joined this community over two years ago. So this morning I wrote about it!
As the day begins, my body is a pitcher brimming
with frothy energy, ready to splash
zest and nurture into cup after cup,
until at the 3:13 bell,
I am
empty.
Allison – I feel this poem in my bones!! I love this imagery of filling others cups, and the joy and energy you clearly feel at the start of the day. “frothy energy, zest, nurture” – just a perfect brew. Well done!
Allison,
I too have felt empty at the end of a long school day. I love the image of filling your students’ cups as the day goes on.
Yes!! I sure hope your first day left them full! I am enjoying the 5-day weekend after completing our 3rd week. It’s been rough with the virus hitting more and more students weekly.☹️
When I look in the mirror
I see myself, but I
also see
my mom
my grandmas
and countless
ancestors,
fearless women I imagine,
whose features
are reflected
in me.
Good morning, Rachelle! I get Macbeth vibes here (in the best way) with the “show of ancestors”–reflected faces of the fearless women that have led to YOU, a most woman yourself!
Rachelle, the image of the ancestors is so inspiring and mysterious – it truly ignites the imagination. “fearless women” through time brought you here!!
Yes, Rachelle! I have these thoughts too! Think of those women, what they encountered, how fearless they must have been.
Also, I like how you’ve arranged this poem on the page. Lovely to read, thank you!
Rachelle,
Wonderful poem. I love the idea of reflecting on your ancestors whose features part of you.
Rachelle,
What a lovely poem to honor the women in your family! And of course they were fearless–you definitely inherited that. 🙂
Having read NIGHT in class today
”Each of us will be
allowed to bring
his personal belongings,”
and what would I bring?
Katrina, your question demands honing into that central theme: what matters? Who are we when “all” is stripped away? I’d love to be in your class as you guide students through this wrenching book.
Oh Katrina, this simple statement makes it so present and personal. I can feel you stepping into the shoes of the other here. Good luck with the year, and way to start off with an important and gripping book.
Thank you, Katrina! You’ll bring love and care for your students, and maybe a couple dozen of books. That is an emotionally loaded novel for the beginning of a school year.
Another great task, Tammi! Your students are so lucky to have you.
Here’s my one sentence.
A Little Girl
There lives a little girl named Polina,
who makes my world full of life and love,
not because she wins the first place in triathlon,
or is fluent in two languages at the age of six,
or draws unicorns and other mystery creatures,
swims, bikes, climbs rocks,
and does gazillion of other things brilliantly,
but because she simply is
my first grandchild.
Leilya — I feel your love and pride for your granddaughter. She sounds like an amazing little girl.
Yipee! How lucky you are to have this grandchild and celebrate her.
Leilya – I love this message – we don’t love because of what people can do, but our connection is bigger. I felt your amazement and pride bursting through each line. Enjoy your time with the amazing Polina!!
Tammi, you have made today’s writing a challenge, even with only requiring one sentence. I tossed ideas and topics around all day. At the end of class, I knew exactly what to write about. My little Hayden who is already about to take my last frazzled nerve and destroy it. I will find a way to love him, I just hope it happens before Christmas.
Mounting Madness
Funny
how it’s
only the seventh
day of school and
he forgot his device and
his homework at home, probably on
the dining room table next to his
unfinished water he insisted on having with his
ADHD medication he proclaimed he didn’t want to take!
©Stacey L. Joy, August 24, 2021
Stacey — I certainly understand your frustration. We’ve all had those students, and they can really drain us. Sometimes it is just so challenging to find something to love in those frustrating children.
Stacey,
I connected to you poem as it reminded me of a student I worked with a few years back. Thank you for sharing.
Stacy, I have been there!! In fact, having many students 3 years in a row, I am anticipating so many of these scenarios, so this poem really got me. I love how the poem’s structure builds bigger and bigger in each line, the piling on of who, what, where, and finally, the why. Wishing you patience with your little dude, and for ourselves when we don’t love as fast as we want to.
Thank you, Stacey! I know how this feels, and you will find the way to love this child. It’s just what teachers do.
Tammi, your sentence poem beautifully captures my sentiments about weeding, the unending nature of it; your word choices are fabulous, I love the image of the weeds tangling with the fragile flowers “in a death embrace” – so true!
This single sentence poem was remarkably challenging for me. Maybe it was the day I had? Unclear.
Detritus
Many years ago
before a party,
I raced about
collecting
all the noisy messy clutter
odds and ends
detritus and debris,
tossing these into the
darkest recesses of my closets,
locking them away
out of sight and
when my friends arrived
all was clean pristine
though I was bursting
with the unseen knowledge;
today’s sentence poem
takes me back to those
dark corners.
Maureen, I didn’t see that end coming! I love the twist you put on it. This prompt was a bit of a challenge for me, too. I struggled with a topic, but you did such a great job of weaving this memory right into the prompt.
Maureen,
This is a wonderful poem I bet we can all relate to. We both metaphorically and literally sweep “the noisy, messy clutter” into the dark corners where we hide so much. I’m forced to face my closets soon. Love it.
Maureen, yes! I know this all too well. I even do this in my classroom before “company” comes. LOL.
Love this:
?
Maureen — This is so relatable! I feel like there is so much clutter in my life, both physical clutter and mental clutter.
Maureen, I LOVE this poem, both as a mirror and a window. “Bursting with unseen knowledge” is such a multifaceted line. So much is hidden. Thank you.
The air is around me is oppressive,
sticky with greed,
eager to suck the life out of me—
today I fear he wins.
By Mo Daley
8/24/21
Mo,
I hope the air tomorrow is fresh and freeing. Sending hugs and good karma.
—Glenda
Oh my, Mo, such an intense sentence!! Greed is so oppressive. May better winds blow your way very soon, giving life rather than “suck the life out of me.”
Mo, I love how concise this is! (And I hope that your “fear” is unfounded, but even if it isn’t, there’s always tomorrow, right? Hope springs eternal, as the saying goes…!)
No, Mo! You got this. Fight like a girl and kick that greedy nasty air’s butt! You nailed this with so few words. I felt it!
Mo — I feel the weight of this poem. I hope tomorrow is a better day.
Mo,
Hopefully things go better for you tomorrow. Wonderful use of poetry to help process the day.
Futility
My son is driving to yet another fire
that may or may not be able to be fought directly
since there is such a shortage of crews
that most fires are confronted indirectly,
far from the flames,
because it isn’t safe to go closer without backup
that could actually make a difference and
yet we bemoan the state of the world on fire
while resources burn and there
aren’t enough fighters to slow the growing inferno.
Cara,
Wow! Strong statement here. So sad to know there is a shortage of fighters to attack the fires burn.
Ah – the state of the world on fire- in many ways! Well said!
My heart breaks for you, Cara. While your poem is about the fires, I think it’s a metaphor for the state of our world right now. I will keep your son in my thoughts and prayers. He is doing such important work!
Cara, your son is a hero, working against all odds, and the insight you provide here about this firefighting work – through a single sentence – is extraordinary. May he continue to be safe.
Cara — The world really is literally burning. I can’t imagine how frightening this must be for you. Your son is in my prayers.
Another not so normal school year
Welcomes all
Expectant, anxious, willing, eager learners
Melissa — Sending you good vibes for a year that brings relief and joy. Susie
Melissa,
Simple, yet truthful.
Melissa, I hope your school year is terrific! There are so many new challenges this year but it’s wonderful to have those willing learners. I hope they continue to be wiling and eager.
Melissa,
I sure hope this abnormality doesn’t become the norm. I hope you settle into a comfortable, pleasant routine w/ your learners.
—Glenda
Succinct and powerful sentence – we are all expectant and anxious.
“Expectant, anxious, willing, eager learners” — thanks for this beautiful reminder of why we do what we do every year.
FOR LINDA
My friend left word today
that her mama had passed;
she’d known it was coming,
this going,
yet that knowing never really matters,
because the loss chisels deep,
an eroding ravine left behind does not refill
with the next rain, the next flush of season;
instead, we worry the scarred rim of the grief canyon —
the heart that pulses the love —
till it frays and bleeds loss
that spills with even an imperceptible tilt,
catching us off guard
till we right ourselves
with the salve of loving harder
all those moments,
those stories,
those shreds
of our shared selves.
by Susie Morice, August 24, 2021©
Such heartfelt words, “till we right ourselves
with the salve of loving harder”.
Susie, your poem is so appropriate for me today as my best friend passed away last night.
I am “loving harder all those moments, those stories, those shreds or our shared selves.”
Oh, Susan, I am so sorry. So very sorry. My heart feels for you. Hugs, Susie
Thank you!
Susie, I feel this – for her and for you. That eroding ravine and grief canyon hit it perfectly. And your word choices (shreds, frays) resonate.
Your words are so true, Susie. It doesn’t matter if we know it’s coming or not. There is still that grief canyon to deal with. That imperceptible tilt goes right to my heart. So beautifully said.
Susie,
Theres so much truth in these lines:
I know Linda will find comfort in your poem, this sharing of grief and stories. You sure know how to say the things that need saying. I admire your ability to make each person feel valued and important.
Beautiful insights on grief, so sorry for your dear friend.
Ohhh, this hurts and is so familiar. If only we can all find time to “love harder” everything and everyone and every moment especially when we see someone’s transition drawing near. But once it’s done, yes, we must…
What a beautiful and important message for us all to hold.
?
Susie,
This poem truly captures grief. “Knowing never really matters/because loss chisels deep” — these lines really spoke to me. I lost my mother two years ago, but she had been dying for years. We thought we were ready to let her go, we weren’t. The isn’t easier even when you know it is coming. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Susie, you’ve captured everything I’ve been feeling lately. The pace of your poem is spot-on I can feel the weight of this loss and the pain that becomes “an eroding ravine”. That feeling of being off-kilter, being shredded, and trying so hard to stay on course. “the salve of loving hard”…yes, this is the exact truth. Your end is so powerful. I’m completely moved to tears. Bless you for crafting such an endearing, heart-felt poem that speaks so eloquently. Hugs, Barb.
Tammi, thanks for your thoughtfulness, offering short, fresh prompts to which we, who are so busy right now, can respond to and get back to work! You’ve invited us to do what makes poetry its own genre. We’re to choose words carefully, be precise and play with the language as we reflect, and explore our thinking, before posting for others to read.
We’re Here for You
Brothers and sisters who are teaching
And you students who are yearning
To earn degrees based on what you’re learning,
We are here for you because we care
And our prayers for you we daily share.
Anna — This truly does feel like a prayer. Amen!
Anna, this really does feel like a prayer, and so you! Your students are lucky to have you in their lives. Best of luck this year!
Lovely prayer, Anna.
Alabama Jones,
son of famed
archeologist,
wondered
(not for the first time
but surely for the last)
as he watched the cobra
rear its head back,
preparing — “hood” expanding —
to strike again,
whether his life
would have been different
if he had followed
his first love
and became
a children’s magician,
named Peppercorn
Stinkbottom,
entertaining youngins
the world over,
would his life have
lead him to this place
with this snake venom
creeping through his veins,
and he decided, yes,
as his eyelids fluttered
their last
(with the eternal darkness
approaching ever closer)
it might have turned out
the exact same
because he knew,
in his heart of hearts
and (truthfully)
because of his brief stint
as a substitute
in a public high school,
that kids and balloon animals
could be just as cruel.
_________________________________________
When discussing various sentence structures with my students, we often “play” by constructing outlandish sentences, packed with phrases and clauses and whatnot. That’s how I approached today’s prompt! Lol.
The ending…the ending!!!
Scott, what a story! “Not for the first time but surely for the last” is the perfect side comment. The names and conflict add so much to this and I couldn’t agree more about being a substitute teacher in a public high school!
Scott — I wish I’d had you as a teacher! The playfulness in your creativity…Peppercorn Stinkbottom with his eyelids fluttering…LOL… substitute teaching…egads! What a sentence structure lesson! Super! Susie
Scott, absolutely love this – such a blast!
Scott — I love, love, love this outlandish sentence! The name you chose for the children’s magician “Peppercorn Stinkbottom” had me laughing. You really had my rapt attention all the way through. I kept thinking where is this going? The ending was so, so satisfying, and all in one sentence! Would you mind if I shared this with my students?
Lol. Thanks! Absolutely share it! (And who knows, maybe you or your students could write another sentence that “saves” Alabama. I’m sure he could have some “antivenom medicine” in one of the many pockets of his cargo pants; I mean, some cargo pants have upwards of 14 pockets — there’s no telling what he could have in them (of course, he would, undoubtedly, jab himself with an EpiPen first, thinking that would work…lol)).
I absolutely adore this! Great fun with a single sentence.
We sure continue to get stretched and challenged! Thank you, Tammi! I love the image of the “death embrace” in your poem.
Service and Sacrifice
While others are launching their independent lives,
partying and spending their newly-earned coin on frivolous things,
he chose to join the Army
(with college degree in hand and job offers abundant).
~Susan Ahlbrand
24 August 2021
The pride flows through every word. And it is well deserved.
We thank him, and you, his parent(s), for his sacrifice.
Susan, your title is perfect. Glad this poem has a positive ending!
Susan —
To forgo employment in civilian life is truly a sacrifice. You must be so proud of your son. Please tell him I said, Thank you!
Sounds like a very mature young man! May he be safe.
Tammi, thanks for today’s prompt. I could spend hours writing these.
Self-portrait
An angry hot bitch curses
beneath the scorching sun,
vomiting expletives about
war, terror, grief, and the loss of
her dear sweet mother-in-law
until she feels the rage radiate beneath her
and self-destructs.
Barb Edler
August 24, 2021
Barb, wow. I’m sorry for the loss of your mother-in-law, first of all. This is so explosive and powerful, with those words that really make us there with you–“vomiting expletives” for instance. And so many more. Peace,
Barb,
I see myself in this “self-portrait.” These days I often feel angry about the unbridled stupidity in this world. Sometimes we just need to get it out. But do not let that last line be a self-fulfilling prophecy.
—Glenda
Barb, I’m sorry for your loss and also understanding of your swings of mood and emotion. I wish more of my own rages would self-destruct. I notice that it happens when I clean the house. I clean best when I’m mad and I can work
off my anger that way. I need to clean more….
Oh Barb — There is some serious heat in this “portrait”…”hot bitch”… you go, girl! The rage that comes from so many sources…you have a helluva lot rattling around inside there…is a powerful strength, and your words carry that strength. I’m going to argue, though, that this doesn’t “self-destruct,” but it unbridles itself in words, in poems, in radiating rage that each of these issues, whether grief or war or just plain crappy weather, deserve your words. Love your FIRE! Susie
Barb — I’m so sorry for your loss. I also can relate to the feelings of rage. There is so much crazy in our world today it is hard to see the light at the end and sometimes we just need to rage.
Barb, oh my! I am so sorry about the loss of your mother-in-law; so glad that you were able to be present with her (I think I remember this from an earlier poem this week)…and I hope that you are able to somehow tune out the war and terror, and simply hone in on your personal grief…it is enough of a burden for any one person, and one of much love.
So sorry, Barb! I hope you will learn how to live with yet another loss. I share your pain because I too lost so many loved ones. Sending kind thoughts your way.
The three-day old bag of greens condensates wilting precious arugula,
but I cannot be moved to fork the wet remains for lunch today
when a lonely brownie is in danger of staling.
Sarah, oh, this is so deliciously stated! Yes, eat the brownie!
Sarah, “the wet remains” brings up foul images for me.. I hate so much when the greens get to the point of no return. I too would go for the brownie! You have expressed this perfectly with that phrase already mentioned, as well as “bag of greens condensates”
Sarah,
I’m smiling at your lunch options. We have those greens in our fridge, too, so I ate something else for lunch. Can’t let chocolate go stale.
I feel your perfect decision!!!! “Lonely brownie in danger of staling”. Lol. What choice is there!!??
Sarah — I love the humor of this…all that healthy stuff pales against that brownie — YUM! Love it! Susie
Sarah,
This is awesome! I love your word choice, especially the uniqueness of “staling.”
Totally! Who needs wilting arugula? I would save the lonely brownie, too! LOL! Thank you for this poem. It really made me smile.
I would be pulled the exact same direction – to brownies! yes!
The Most Perfect Day
By Nancy White
An adventure today squished in the Subaru, my most precious (and precocious!) prattles away on my right—“Grammy, did you know…” and I’m smiling, engulfed in his world on the way to sand castles and sparkling Coronado waves.
Oh, Nancy, I want to come with you to the Coronado waves. How lovely this scene of conversation to sand castles.
Nancy, gorgeous…wish I was on the way to enjoy the “sparkling Coronado waves.”
Nancy,
Your poem is so inviting. I want to splash in those “sparkling Coronado waves,” too.
—Glenda
Please, May I join you? What a beautiful world…
Love the alliteration “most precious (and precocious!)” prattles. The sentence seems to pick up speed as you go. I felt like I was in the car with you. Really lovely!
One beautiful, happy sentence! How I love the fun alliteration of “my most precious (and precocious!) prattles” – enjoy yourself!!
Another exciting prompt.
I was feeling kind of zen this morning in the backyard with my dog. As we shared our philosophies I composed this one line poem. I decided that punctuation would get in the way so I omitted it.
i endeavor
i endeavor
to be
nature’s ally
a golden-haired lion
to seek
the Infinite Mind
the Hedge
at the
bottom of the
garden
steve
so love how “to be” and “to seek” rest centered on lines in between images, and the capitalizing of “Infinite Mind” and “Hedge” elevate the endeavor in this garden.
sarah
Steve, love the flow of this poem. The opening is spectacular and leads to a wonderful close. Love the imagery!
Steve — I love the way this story unfolds, and the image of your dog the “golden-haired lion” getting into the hedge at the bottom of the garden made me smile. I could totally see this moment playing out.
Thank you for this fun prompt. I always enjoy getting to write about knitting or coffee.
Yarn
Two wooden sticks holding my precious project, knitting to relax after a long day, I let my mind drift to the joy of those who will receive this gift of my time and love.
DeAnna,
This a sweet poem. I admire those who knit and create wearable art. I’d love to see the piece that inspired you today.
—Glenda
I’ve come back to embroidery after a long time away. It’s so calming to lose yourself in the project!
DeAnna,
I am loving how this prompt is allow us such lovely glimpses into our community’s surroundings and interests. The “two wooden sticks” is such a vivid image of your instrument.
Sarah
This is simple and lovely. Thank you!
DeAnna, I really love to cross-stitch so I can relate to the relaxation and the joy you’ve shared in this poem. Lovely!
DeAnna,
Quintessentially you–that’s what this poem is. As a relatively frequent recipient of your gifts, I especially enjoyed this poem of yours. <3
DeAnna — I don’t knit, but I have had some wonderful people in my life who have knitted gorgeous afghans for me. They were gifts of love. Love the image of “two wooden sticks holding my precious project”.
In that last year, I circled the lake,
investigating every cove along the shore
until I discovered the outfall —
a small stream that would carry me away,
silently slipping into quiet waters
where a single paddle stroke would do,
where simply floating for an entire morning
would be an acceptable option.
I can just picture floating along the stream enjoying the scenery as it passes by. Thank you for sharing.
Beautifully crafted poem, so peaceful. My best days are when I go with the flow following the path of least resistance, which is my perception of your words. Thank you.
Oh, Mary Lee, this is a lovely and brilliantly crafted sentence of imagery, movement, and possibility. The “simply floating” is a glorious moment here alongside the simple word “acceptable.” That…and so much more.
Sarah
Mary Lee, what a wonderful find! I can feel the sense of surrendering to this cool outfall of joy. Loved “silently slipping into quiet waters”.
Mary Lee — This poem floats like the very water itself…”quiet waters” … mmmm. The soothing flow of this really works…that “single paddle stroke would do.” Yes! Susie
I can picure this, Mary Lee. I love discovering the small stream to carry you away. It would be so private and cooling. Yes, I could float there, as well.
What a beautifully crafted sentence/poem . . . full of images.
Mary Lee,
I love this image of “silently slipping into quiet waters” and simply floating away.
This poem exudes tranquility.
I want to go paddling here.
Mary Lee, I’m with the rest; this is so well done! So good. Thank you for sharing this!
Sorry to be joining late this month – but it’s “start-up week” for me, and incessant zooming has commenced. ‘Happy to be here at all,’ though! And love this ‘simplified’ approach to brainstorming and ability to capture my biking experience this week.
No Fear
Thick morning fog
settles on the forested bike trail
I cruise along unable to see
more than ten feet in front of me
with each thrust of the crank
I perilously trust familiarity
will guide me safely through
each veiled stretch and curve
I delight in being so fervently alive
Maybe this poem is a good metaphor for the beginning of school, too!!
Mary Lee and Denise,
I read it this way, too! I want to hold onto the delight in the last line!
Sarah
I love your calm assurance as you delight in the ride through the fog. I can imagine the exhilaration! Love this picture.
Denise, I love your title and the sensory appeal you’ve captured in this poem. Your final line is on fire! So many great words throughout such as “forested” “cruise” “perilously” “veiled” “fervently”…sensational! Thanks for carrying me on this bike ride I’d never be able to physically accomplish.
So glad you have biking during and around “start-up week.” Love the power and delight you feel! You’ve express it well.
Denise — Your poem makes me want to get back on my bike and do a stretch on the Katy Trail…along the Missouri River…the “thick morning fog”… oh yeah! After this godawful heat wave abates, I’m heading to the trail. Thank you for the impetus! Susie
Denise,
You are definitely braver than me. The inability to see in front of me while riding on a bike,
would scare me silly. But I love the way you embrace this thrill. Sort of like riding a roller coaster (also something I won’t do). Love the last line: “I delight in being so fervently alive.”
Another great idea to use with students, thank you! I really like this – even if I’m stretching my sentence a bit!
Passing time
When I sweep the patio
I still see the blue
and orange smears from the smoke
bombs they set off
on the 4th of July;
meanwhile the first autumnal
leaves have gathered
behind my sprawling
potted tomatoes.
Emily,
I can just picture you back patio covered in firework smears and the fall leaves strewn about. Wonderfully done.
You captured the change of seasons perfectly
Emily, I like how your poem captures several seasons in one moment: the remnants of July 4th, the late summer tomatoes, and the approaching fall.
Emily, I love the focus on the imagery here. It’s like viewing a still life. Loved “behind my sprawling/potted tomatoes”!
Emily,
You’ve captured the seasonal changes and memories beautifully. I love the image of gathering “autumnal leaves.” I can feel fall in the air in your poem.
Wait. You already have autumnal
leaves? Can I come for a visit??? I’m so jealous – I can’t wait. I raided the fall
candles at Marshall’s as coworker gifts and already lit one of my own for good measure. Your poem showing the trace of July 4 and the autumn leaf is a beautiful way to share the ever-changing seasons!
Emily,
I love the imagery of sweeping the patio and the autumnal leaves sweeping in. Such rich visuals in one sentence. 🙂
Emily,
While I love the beauty of fall, the passing of summer always makes me so sad. I feel a bittersweet longing in your poem.
Thank you for this prompt today. As most of us, I have a lot on my mind and these two came first. I know I could go on all day but I thought I had better share these with you before I go on and on.
The Task
I wake up early knowing
that I have to do this one large
and important thing today
while the thought wrenches my stomach
and my brain stumbles
and I wonder if my fingers will work
while I make that phone call.
Rabbit
She stares right at me
with body frozen to hug the earth
ears tucked back and
long feet held tight under her warm body
as her eyes never lose their focus
on what movement I am making
as I open the gate.
I love this prompt for the way it captures very small moments. These two show us trepidation in two very different ways and situations!
Yes, you sensed the correct feeling in both – trepidation. Thanks.
Oh Susan, my stomach is wrenching with yours as I am imagining the task you must face. I love your portrayal of the rabbit, all still and focused, maybe a little like how you’re feeling before your phone call.
You know me so well, sister Nancy. The task was not so bad.
Susan — Your rabbit knows my rabbit! You nailed that “eyes never lose their focus”… my little guy/gal/rabbitx watches my every move. Love this! Susie
I love both of these poems. I feel the apprehension of your daunting task. I’ve had those days, too. Our outdoor cat likes to terrorize the rabbits that wander into our yard, and I’ve seen the fear you describe “eyes never lose their focus”.
I love the Rabbit poem. They really do freeze. Why do we say “deer in the headlinghts” when “rabbit eyes” is so much more descriptive — at least the way you tell it.
I love a prompt I can sit down and use on that very day with my students. I teach gifted kids, too, and imagine they will love this short and sweet prompt. Then I’ll add an competitive edge to it: Who has the longest sentence? the most syllables? the most images? Thanks!
I wrote on my morning walk this morning by using the Notes app on my phone. The dictator misunderstood the echo of the “owl over the bayou” to be “How are you?” So, I left it in.
In the early morning light
of a new day when the moon still
hangs high while the owl echoes
“how are you”, I am tethered to this old
dog walking, wandering, praying.
I love how your phone gave you a better line, and your answer: “I am tethered to this old
dog / walking, wandering, praying.
Tethered to your old dog…. What a beautiful line.
I love how you left it as Siri heard it and dictated it. What a great way to begin the day – walking, tethered to an old dog, hearing an owl ask “how are you?” Makes me wonder about a conversation with an owl and whooo would say what, including the dog! What a fun and beautiful moment you shared and I love the image.
“how are you” is perfect for this poem! I was with you walking in the early morning light. So peaceful even if you are tethered to “this old dog walking”.
I agree gifted students will see this as a challenge to write the longest sentence!
Margaret,
I almost always compose my poems in the notes app.
Gorgeous photo and images in your poem. We share those old dog walks each morning and evening.
Oh, this is great. I love the competitive edge questions. I’ll be up to my neck in orientation lessons tomorrow. Competition is the way we get things done! What a beautiful hanging moon.
I have so much on my mind this morning, and I have written almost a page of topics and problems and feelings. I’ve been trying to write this mega-cumulative sentence…and then I was inspired by Jen Guyor Jowett’s piece she posted earlier this morning. I decided instead to take a deep breath and focus on the present, and channel some WCW.
So much depends
upon
an ant-free
classroom
swathed in cool
air
from the portable
fan.
Oof. You can say so much with just a few words. Best wishes for your day!
This is great timing as I was battling the ants this morning. Can’t imagine fighting them in a classroom. Ugh!
Betsy — I absolutely love this allusion to William Carlos Williams’s “The Red Wheel barrow”. I use this poem as a copy change poem with my students often. Your version is totally relatable. We all deserve ant-free classrooms. 🙂
Betsy, your poem reminds us both of a poem line we know and how much little things can make such a big dining the pleasure we experience each day. Thanks for the pleasure of your small poem.
Betsy, I really enjoyed this. Thank you for “channel[ing] some WCW” today! (Those ants were probably going after the plums in the icebox that you were saving for breakfast! lol)
Sunshine
Hiding in my office
that is overstuffed with books,
semester exams,
and mementos from a teaching career,
I wonder what it might feel like to spend each day in the sunshine
or to feel sand around my tired feet
or to express the shadow of a mountain
in watercolors.
This touched me deeply. The empiricals of your teaching career (exams, momentos) cast against the possibilities of a life outside of it felt weighted. I’m feeling the weight after being back in the classroom after one week. There’s the pull and tug of freedom juxtaposed against being in the metaphorical office with so, so much to do. I want “sand around my tires feet,” too. Thanks so much for the honesty and words here.
Hi Dixie,
Oh how I would love to be there with you! Your poem expresses all of the beautiful things I’ve missed since the pandemic. Thank you for sharing this gorgeous gift for my early morning reading.
?
Your poem brings the room (and your longings) to life. This snapshot of a moment balances so many paradoxical emotions: hope/sadness, pride/regret. Thank you for sharing your poem with us!
I love “Express the shadow of a mountain in watercolors.” Dreaming of retiring? What’s next. So many lovely options.
My poem today is a celebration of retirement. It’s quite lovely after 37 years in the classroom!
Dixie, I identify with your poem so much because only three years ago I was having those same thoughts and dreams. Now, I’m able to experience the freedom of retirement and I look back and applaud myself and all the hardworking teachers who give selflessly.
Dixie — I love the look of that office! I’m sitting here in mine and thinking we could be in the same place. 🙂 Susie
Dixie — your poem makes me miss summer and vacation time already, and I’ve only been in school for one week! Especially love this “or to express the shadow of a mountain in watercolors.”
I had fun w/ this prompt in both a literal and ironic way. The prompt reminds me of teaching students to write a one-sentence character analysis when I taught “The Great Gatsby.” I’d demonstrate w/ Meyer Wolfsheim and have kids list details about him, such as his cuff links “made of the finest specimen of human molars,” and demonstrate how to write a periodic sentence. It was always a fun, experimental lesson.
Some Sentence
They said, “write only one sentence,”
as though I have little to say,
as though they can enforce
a gag order on my barbaric yawp,
as though the world deserves my silence,
as though I’ve not already damned
my cascading mind over and
over on this patriarchal planet, so
to accommodate their directive,
to adhere to the letter of
the one sentence law,
the one sentence command,
the single sentence construction,
to show them my skill at bending but
not breaking the rules,
to demonstrate my ability
to compose a single, grammatically correct
construction called a single sentence,
a sentence employing both accurate punctuation and a stream-of-consciousness array of thoughts
one might call a TED Talk poem rant,
I’ve written this single sentence,
a periodic construction—sort of—limited
only by my desire to stop when the
haunting voice of Dr. Padget
invades my mind and declares
in a not-so-complimentary tone,
“That’s some sentence.”
—Glenda Funk
Glenda, now THAT is a sentence! I’ve been noodling around with a cumulative sentence this morning. I also like the idea of your one-sentence character analysis lesson. Thank you for sharing this morning!
Glenda, Glenda, Glenda. Your barbaric yawp has produced an absolutely, vocabulary-challenging sentence. I am in awe…
Love this rambling response. Gotta love a challenge of grammatical proportions.
Huzzah! Some sentence indeed!
Yeah! Thank you for the English lesson here. That is some sentence. “a TED Talk poem rant” Thanks for the feedback on my sentence too. I think this really would be a great and fun way to practice sentence structure and what makes a sentence a whole. Amazing!
Glenda, genius! This intentional rambling run-on I could actually hear as a Ted Talk before I got to that part. Makes me wonder if students would break more writing rules if we limited them instead of trying to pull more words out of them….hmmm…..it’s worth a try! You’ve got me thinking.
HAHAHAHA! Love this, Glenda! You da master! Whoohoo! Woot! Woot! I laughed out lout through the whole damned thing…TED Talk poem! HA! And the “patriarchal planet”…damned straight… Love the strength of this voice! I’ve come to count on that! Hugs, Susie
Glenda — I love your “TED Talk poem rant” !! This is such a fun one sentence poem!!
That is some sentence, Glenda! Love this! I think my favorite line is “one might call a TED Talk poem rant” – so so terrific!
What fun! Reminds me of some of James Baldwin’s sentences! My students tried to complain, but once they began diagramming sentences from “Notes of a Native Son”, they realized, no he’s not writing run on sentences. Just sentences that run on…and on…and on…and…
Exorcism in one sentence. Thank you for this wonderful prompt Tammi – it brought so many thoughts into my head.
Exorcism
I wished I didn’t have to tell you
what was troubling me
because there was so little love and
it seemed so fragile
that if I told you the truth,
you would pull away permanently
and yet, I could not live free
while holding on to this rock
of such a painful memory
so, I let flow out to you,
all the dark stuff,
all the bitterness
all the anger and rage
as I walked you through the event
you had participated in,
and when all was said and done,
and I was a drained, sobbing mess of human flesh,
you comforted me by simply saying,
“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Judi Opager
August 24, 2021
The truth that is so fragile and painful, yet when it’s finally out there, cathartic and healing.
Wow. That ending is a real slap in the face.
Wow, Judi, you really describe the pain here “there was so little love” and:
The title is powerful too.
Judi — This internal battle to exorcise your pain is conveyed so authentically. This image –“I was a drained, sobbing mess of human flesh” — Wow! Your final line: “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” made me want to hit someone for you.
Powerful as heck, Judi!
This is gripping, Judi – with a lot of humanity in it. How can anyone “live free” while holding onto a “rock of painful memory”? And so comes the eruption – I so wasn’t expecting the last line but it makes a perfect frame, and changes everything. Powerful!
Tammi—another home run! Your mentor poem is exactly why I give up at this point in my garden every year!
An eruption has recurred,
detritus strewn across
the wasteland;
I sigh
and commence restoration,
clearing the rubble,
Sisyphus
in the wake
of puppy destruction.
GJS 8/24/2021
I love where this landed! Delightful surprise. As a fellow puppy owner, this hit the mark; I can commiserate.
Gayle,
Having a puppy is so much work, but the love you receive from the puppy makes it worth it. My favorite line: An eruption has recurred,
detritus strewn across
the wasteland; I can just picture it. Make me think of my two-year-old granddaughter leave a trail of toys and books in her wake.
Oh, Gayle, this one had me laughing out loud!
“Sisyphus
in the wake
of puppy destruction.”
What a perfect metaphor!
Good luck on that puppy destruction lessening. You have given us a great image of what it must look like — “eruption, detritus, wasteland.” Wow! Here’s hoping for patience, Sisyphus!
I can’t handle all the puppy love and sweetness overload! Yes, yes, yes to the worth it despite the destruction! Watching them pull all their toys out and not clean up is so humanizing (which they are)
and makes us feel like toddler parents! you make my heart putter patter double time, Gayle! I’m your puppy soul sister.
Made me laugh, Gayle! Puppy chuckles. I remember this too well. Still miss my Watty Boy. Susie
Jen,
“detritus strewn across the wasteland” — a perfect image to depict the havoc wrecked by a puppy. The allusion to Sisyphus is spot on. Keeping up with a puppy is definitely an uphill battle!
It really, really, really never ends, does it?! But I love a dog and willingly cast myself as Sisyphus as well. Your word choices work magnificently here – so visual and grand, as is a puppy’s destruction!
I agree that the prompt is a home run. Something quick can be fun and as much work as a longer piece. Puppy destruction…it IS a thing. We lost our old dog recently and are trying very hard not to give in to puppies before we’re ready. The work of it is so much!
Gayle, I am so amused to see the word detritus in your sentence poem, since that is what I called my sentence poem! Ha! I am a huge fan of the Sisyphus myth; he feels like a daily presence…fun to think of being surrounded by puppy destruction.
Tammi, so fun to play with brevity this morning. Thank you for another quick prompt – one that is easy to complete in just a few moments. My brain kept returning to the spin that many others have spun already, but I couldn’t resist.
This is just to say
I have written
one sentence,
and only one.
I see what you did here!? love it!
I wish I had thought of that…
This is just to say your poem is very clever, my friend.
—Glenda
Well Done!!
Fun! Great sentence. Another great addition to a lovely collection of one sentence poems. This is just to say that that opening is powerful.
Perfect! WCW would be so proud and honored! I love your simple and clever poem – wish I had thought of this!
Ha! I love this, Jen! So perfect for the prompt.
Priceless! I so admire your wit!
Ha! Yes, you have…you gifted smart kid, you.
This is great! (I’m not sure how/why it took me like eight hours to see this!? But I’m so glad that I did!)
Tammi, fun prompt. I’m busy with a workshop a few hours a day this week, so these prompts you’ve brought have been so accessible. Thank you! I know students appreciate that too. I think this would be a great poem to write when/if students have to study sentences, phrases, clauses, etc. (I’m not sure if mine is grammatically correct, but I guess that doesn’t have to be the point in poetry, eh?) Thank you!
Remnants of history
(that blouse for the Sadie Hawkins dance,
the dress that I wore when I interviewed for my first job,
a scrap from the bridesmaids’ dresses my mom made for my wedding,
and hundreds more forgotten memories)
I’ve carried around for forty years,
cut into perfect circles,
each stitched lovingly around the edges
by Aunt Thelma, and now by me,
to make what she called a yo-yo,
now find new purpose.
Denise, this is fascinating! These little snippets of fabric that evoke memory and sharpen sentiment are so cleverly repurposed. I want to know more about the way these yo-yos’ new lives!
Clothes, like smell, are such vivid parts of memory, because we have strong feelings about them, and you capture that perfectly. I’m so curious what the final product looks like, and what that new purpose will be! Thanks, Denise.
Denise, the pulling together of history into a quilt and stitched with your words creates such a lovely image. What a beautiful way to preserve lifetimes.
I have many quilts made of dress remnants—what wonderful memories!
Denise, I really enjoyed reading and re-reading your poem. It evokes so many memories and tender love (“cut into perfect circles, each stitched lovingly around the edges”). Great storytelling in one sentence!
Denise,
I love the way the clothing became a quilt of memories. Family love and heritage is beautifully conveyed in “Each stitched lovingly around the edges”.
Denise, I LOVE this! Not just the poem, but the yo-yo! And, I do believe it’s grammatically correct just for the record!
This is so rich, Denise – the repurposing of love and memories as well! I have a quilt my grandmother made from scraps. In it I see one of her vests, a smock of my mother’s…so meaningful. The design you’re working on is just gorgeous (over on your blog).
Wonderful! I love that those memories are now quilted together. It means so much more now…all these years later, doesn’t it?
I want to see the final work! Are they in a quilt? What is this fabric yo-yo, you speak of? My mother-in-law “stitched lovingly around the edges” all the treasured remnants of her kids’ clothes. Your sentence intrigues me so!!
Tammi, you have given us yet another beautiful way to ease with writing into the day. I feel those weeds, despise them too! That tangle in a death embrace is the reason for so many pairs of gloves. You paint that picture of the wrestling! Thank you for hosting us today.
One Sentence Poem
Topic: Coyote
Problem: its lone daylight presence thirty feet from the house
Feeling: …“oh $#*+!”
There he was, much larger than I thought they were supposed to be, right there in broad daylight – ambling along the edge of our deep woods on an obvious coyote mission – probably to leave another one of his signature persimmon seed-laden calling cards in our driveway as if to say, “I am the big bad wolf, and I will
eat you up!” – sniffing the exact spots where Boo, Fitz, and Ollie had marked their territory just 10 minutes earlier….forcing my blue hand in this divided house to say the forbidden words: “Go get the gun.”
Oh man, Kim!! You captured the whirling thoughts and calculations that happen in these tough moments. Hope Boo, Fitz, and Ollie are all ok. Love the “calling card” and big bad wolf imagery.
First of all, oh s&^t is right! Some things I love-“obvious coyote mission”, “persimmon seed-laden calling card”, “forcing my blue hand”. I, too would call for the gun.
Kim, the strength of the struggle, the forcing of the blue hand, comes clearly after the details that share your alarm at seeing this big bad visitor. We had a coyote trot right between my son and I while we were running one night (longer story I’ll tell you some time) – much different when it’s a reality!
Kim,
WOW! This is a tense sentence, and I do love the culminating thought: “forcing my blue hand to say, ‘go get the gun.’” That is a powerful image of internal conflict.
—Glenda
I am right there with you! We think a coyote killed one of our cats. “blue hand in this divided house” is so telling. We don’t own a gun, but I did tell my neighbor I wouldn’t be upset if he shot the murderer.
Kim, I think there is a contest out there for one sentence poems…you need to submit! Wow, this is fantastic! What an end!
That last line is spectacular. Forcing my blue hand, forbidden words…Wow. I love this poem. What a sentence! I hope he sniffs out the danger and goes far away!
Kim — I really love the way this story builds. The boldness of that coyote! I can feel your frustration and the tension in that final moment of “Go get the gun”.
Oh, Kim! Coyote and the oodles! Yikes! Are your oodles big and tough enough to go head to head with a coyote? I know they snatch cats…but I sure get the “forbidden words”! Does Amazon sell Coyote Repellent? Hugs, Susie
Wow, Kim – talk about storytelling! Your detailed descriptions are riveting. There it is, the characteristic deft touch of humor – and then my blood went cold on those last words. Love love love “forcing my blue hand in this divided house.” I can see it all.
Ha! Forcing the blue hand. It’s not funny…but I snickered. You got me good.
Tammi, thank you for another deeply inspiring, “do-able” prompt. Your beautiful lines carry such weight and significance. The images are so clear – I find myself standing right beside the poet-gardener – and what I take away in spite of the futility is the determination to persevere.
My poem is inspired by an image in a story my son told me.
Sustenance
A window opens
in the apartment on the second floor
of the gabled mansion
where the funeral director lives alone
and at this signal, the swallows alight
on the porch roof below
waiting for the tossing of breadcrumbs
born of an aching need
to keep something alive.
Love this:
“… the swallows alight
on the porch roof below …”
And all of it.
Kevin
Fran,
there is such beauty here in what I felt would surely be a haunted mansion. I love this twist of predicted ending! You’re a master storyteller – right down to only one sentence. “Born of an aching need to keep something alive…” shows that unique perspective that a funeral director would certainly have. Thank you for reminding us to hold on to the living of life.
The set of a movie, and the opening camera shot. All right here. I had a friend who lived above the town’s funeral parlor—this is perfect!
Fran, it’s your details (the funeral director, the gabled mansion, the alighting swallows), with the action of providing food, that emphasize the juxtaposition between life and death so clearly. My mind travels to things locked up, despite that open window.
There is such delicacy in your poem and your choice of words “and at this signal, the swallows alight” is perfect. I especially loved the last two lines, “born of an aching need to keep something alive” – such a juxtaposition to the fourth line, “where the funeral director lives alone”. I love it!
I wish I had a photo of the house I pass sometimes on my walk. It could be a house in a scary movie. There’s even an old hearse parked in front. Most definitely,
Fantastic images!
“aching need to keep something alive” for a funeral director — a sympathetic image.
Fran, your poem is awe-inspiring! The motion, images, and emotions are so compelling. This poem reminds me of the Beatles song Elanor Rigby for some reason. The end is especially poignant. Absolutely love this poem!
Wow, “an aching need to keep something alive” – What a beautiful diversion for the funeral director. I love the “gabled mansion” and “at this signal”: too.
Everything about this poem is so beautiful! The images, the aching loneliness and those final lines: “born of an aching need/to keep something alive” — just perfect. I can totally visualize this scene.
Oh, my that aching need. Wonderful capture of a moment.
Sometimes I am judge,
and sometimes I am jury,
and sometimes, I stand accused,
madly dashing down notes
for my defense of a scribbled-out
poem or song or story,
written in a rush and posted
before I took the time to consider
each line as evidence
to be used later in trials
of a writer’s revisionist history.
Kevin
Ah, Kevin — So glad to see you here this morning! And boy, did you capture the guilt…the
“madly dashing down….scribbled-out…” and the real clincher: “before I took the time to consider…” Methinks you were peeking in my window! LOL! Writer’s guilt. The trial. Egads…thank heavens for kind spaces. Thank you! Susie
Yes, the shreds and snippets that cloud our conscience into wondering what all we have scribbled in our journals….? I sure do understand those feelings!
Sometimes I am judge,
and sometimes I am jury,
and sometimes, I stand accused,
this is wonderful! All of the roles we face as writer. So often, the verdict is GUILTY!
WOW, Kevin! What a powerful sentence! There is so much written in that one sentence that it boggles my mind! I especially loved the last four lines, “before I took the time to consider – each line as evidence – to be used later in trials – of a writer’s revisionist history.” Extremely well done!
Writing about writing is always a great topic to hang your hat on. Check–prompt complete!
Kevin — I love the way you have captured the power of words as well as their power to cause pain.
“Sometimes I am judge,
and sometimes I am jury” — really relatable.
Yet another genius poem, Kevin. The impact of the entire thing is its beauty, but I especially love
Truths rendered with such magnificence, Kevin – love how you wove the courtroom imagery with the writer’s life and “revisionist history” is just too perfect!
Oh, so true! The rush of writing feels so good…then later it can be more revealing than intended. I know that feeling well. You wrapped it up and put a bow on it.
Good Morning Poets,
Tammi, I love this prompt! It’s a great way to get someone thinking poetically. Those poor impatiens in a death embrace…it’s been such a hot summer that my flowers are a bit tired too.
Yesterday was the first day of school for students and there were kids in the library. Two sisters in hijab couldn’t attend classes because they weren’t registered properly…so they sat in the library until a parent could pick them up. They contented themselves with stacks of books as other kids stared into space, napped, or scrolled through their phones. I don’t know what their background is. But, with all that I’ve seen on the news lately, I was so happy to watch those sisters gobble up books. I sent them home with books too.
A library full of books
and kids not reading
except for two newcomers
with a stack of books
slowly turning pages–
a banquet of learning
for hungry eyes.
Beautiful poem, and story, Linda, and the way books can be a bridge. Hope they got things settled and you see them again.
Kevin
Linda — Thank you for your observant eyes and the wonder of books. We may be witnessing the next Toni Morrison or the next Malala…and you primed the pump with books, kindness, and compassion. All that in a sentence. Wonderful! Susie
“a banquet of learning for hungry eyes”…what a lovely way with words to show us that these sisters are soaking it all in, savoring every morsel of books. A sweet way to start the day being grateful for books!
I love this image of the “banquet of learning for hungry eyes” – perhaps the newcomers will inspire the others, too!
This is beautiful. I was that student, my hungry eyes consuming the pages…
“Banquet of books” is your offering every day as solace in the middle school world.
Linda — I love the image of “banquet of learning for hungry eyes”! Books really are food for hungry eyes.
My heart aches at “a library full of books and kids not reading,” and then it sings at “a banquet of learning for hungry eyes.” I can feel the reverence in the turning of those pages.