Some Inspiration
I imagine there are mixed feelings floating across this virtual space as cursors blink within the comment box below. What will you write today? Will it be any “good”? Every writer can attest that whispers of doubt are a natural part of a writer’s’ life. And let me just assure you that as long as you write, it is all “good.” It is good enough. You are good enough.
So let’s begin this journey with what is “good” in your life. Objects. People. Places. Feelings. Movements. Experiences. Extraordinary is fabulous, as are seemingly small moments and places where you notice the “good.” The bathroom in your school where you can lock the door and have a few moments of privacy. The first cup of coffee in a freshly brewed pot. The tulip’s leaf peeking out of your flower bed.
Poem Pointer
The form of the poetry you write today (and throughout this month) can be structured in stanzas with rhyme or free verse with line breaks that serve your ideas. There are no rules to length, either.
Here are a couple techniques you can try to thread into your verse:
- Repetition — a phrase or line that you repeat can create some rhythm.
- Dash — it can signal breaks, shifts in your thought, leaving it to the reader to fill-in or feel the shifts in your thinking.
Sarah’s Poem
Three minutes is just enough time, I think.
Feet climb the stairs toward —
slowed with a “hello” and a smile, oh no.
Ascending again, almost there– yes, I think.
Bathroom free for me
before the bell —
ring.
Happy poem-ing. Write your original poem in the comment section below. Please
The daily inspirations for #verselove2019 are merely suggestions. If there is something within your heart or mind that you want to work through in verse today, please do so. There are no rules about the topic, length, or form — just poem any way you wish. Feel free to invite friends and colleagues to join us any time throughout April. Check out NCTE Verse for poem resources and click here for five verse novel recommendations.
Welcome #verselove2019 poets from across the globe!
Colleagues who collaborate
Colleagues who congratulate
Students who appreciate
Students who are diligent
Students who are resilient
fatherhood trilogy
poem one
The question
The question feared
by every father
On every child’s
Lips—Why daddy?
poem two
matthew
my
eyes
my smile
my sarcastic wit
a delightful mimic
this innocent clown
with his endearing chortle
poem three
Treehouse
In his
treehouse
Reality
is anything
He can
imagine
Reading Chair
By Mo Daley
My reading chair
is overstuffed
and covered in cream and carroty colored flowers.
At its base is an equally fluffy ottoman
arranged just so
that my ancient schnauzer, Abby,
can make the gentle leap into my lap.
I cover us up with our
much loved-throw
originally purchased
nearly seventeen years ago
on a family trip to Mt. Vernon.
My sons have given me
three duplicates throughout the years
as we have long ago worn out
the magical comfort of the original.
Abby and I sit early in the morning
in front of the window,
curtains drawn,
sun splashing us,
tea steeping,
loving life,
in my reading chair.
Wait. Where’s the camera? Here I sit….khaki reading chair with an ottoman….a Schnauzer and a Schnoodle….I think we are kindred spirits, Mo! Only I wish my chair were overstuffed and I wish my chair was where we could chat. Your tea, my coffee! Cheers! Love your poem!
LOL, Kim! I wish I could have worked in my Maltipoo and Lowchen, but I figured I have the whole month left!
Interesting imagery. I would love a chair like that, too.
Blackberry Winter Memories
“It’s a Blackberry Winter,” I was told.
The spring allows winter one final word before winning the argument.
A perfect writing time- early morning
fireplace ablaze, fresh coffee,
comfy chair, fleece pajamas,
Moleskine journal, bold gel pen,
Thoughts ready to materialize.
But suddenly, Schnauzer and Schnoodle seige!
One wraps around my neck on the back of the chair. One curls up in my lap on the paper.
They, too, love a fire.
There are things that bring
more warmth than fireplaces and coffee,
more comfort than chairs and pajamas,
more joy than journals and pens.
And I’d rather have these memories
on this Blackberry Winter morning.
– Kim Haynes Johnson, April 2, 2019
I love your use of alliteration. Your images are vivid for me- it’s easy to drop myself right into your setting. I want to know more about a Blackberry Winter now!
Unexpected Joy
by Deb
Sophie’s silky Bernese puppy fur
and midnight eyes
her intelligent gleam
watching,
watching,
her mentor, Bear,
a contrary old lab,
burnished almost copper fur
soulful eyes
an aura of dignity.
Sophie yelping
playing
with childlike innocence.
Bear mellow
maintaining
his majestic nobility.
Sophie stubborn
her needle like teeth
imposing
pouncing
Blood curling howls
yelping
accepting
bonding
in a forever home.
the rumpus begins
unexpected Joy.
Your poem is so relatable! I have three rescue dogs who are constantly working on their relationship!
Standing Strong
Making a difference
Protecting
Pushing
Persevering
Work
Curling up on the couch
Family time
Soft
Supportive
Secure
Home
The shift between these two stanzas captures the ways place shapes who we are or who we feel we can be. I would love to know what it feels like to feel supportive and secure in my day job but certainly don’t want the pushing at home — hmmm.
Love your use of alliteration and the feelings of comfort that is achieved only with the work of taking a stand!
The Good
The good is in the gravy
which is not what your mama made:
grease drips sopped up with white flour
trickles of glassy broth
stirring, stirring, singing, whirring.
“Turn up the heat. Get the spoon moving.
It’s only good when it’s smooth.”
No no no,
that’s not the good in the gravy
that’s just good gravy, baby.
The good? Mama’s freckled hands
take the spoon, press it into the clumps.
“See here?” her hands say, pocked with
time, work, three kids raised up and now…
“See here, this is how.”
The dialogue in here brings me into the moment to witness this with you — so beautiful. The line “that’s just good gravy, baby” tugged at my heart, too — something about the “no” at the beginning ending with “baby.”
I love this…. especially how you draw me in – wanting to make the gravy like we grew up with- mostly the intimate moment with Mama- yea that’s good… just like Mama’s!
Oh my gracious goodness. Girl, I am there in the kitchen with you! Unique style you have!
I’m the second one out of bed in the morning–
The coffee awaits.
An extra splash of half and half for good measure.
In the shower, the hot water radiates through my stiff spine,
My mind awash in ideas for my students and ideas for my life;
prayers for the sick and prayers for the healthy,
and always,
ALWAYS
the perfect words…
for everything.
And after so much brain activity
So much thought production
I can’t remember if I put the conditioner in my hair
Or not?
Love the “a” sound in splash, half, and half — and then the shift in the end about conditioner. Joy!
So much to this poem, but even in its most literal, simplest first reading, I find too that my best think time is shower time and that I, too, can’t remember whether I have put the conditioner in or shaved both legs….
This is so me, except I often forget to wash the conditioner out of my hair.
I love your use of specific thoughts on students, and as a result forgetting what may come naturally. It’s a constant battle not to think of them while I am supposed to be sleeping.
Fifty sleeps separate me from
summer,
and I’m already hitting snooze.
My pillow whispers,
“Stay,
and waste the day away.”
But my bank account
beckons.
Summer, please come soon.
I love the subtle rhythm in your poem and your use of rhyme. This is such a timely message after the long winter we had!
I like the subtle alliteration of the “s” sound with all the “good” things-sleeps, summer, snooze, stay, summer.
This poem speaks to me!
An Invitation
First blades of grass
A vital green emergence
From the brown muck
Of winter’s sleep.
Emerald gems
Rise
And reach
Toward vast
Expansive sky
Unfurl
The fullness
Of their most radiant
Verdant selves —
Remember.
The blades seem to whisper
As I pass by.
I just love the verb “unfurl.” I mean, I see that grass secretly unrolling in slow motion. Beautiful imagery
I love your phrasing “emerald gems rise and reach…” such beautiful imagery!
Big brown eyes
Just learning to side-eye
Fingers so incredibly long
and skinny
I just know you’ll be a musician
some day
Beautiful skin,
Like milk chocolate
Legs that never quite relax–
Just like your arms
Two months premature
is way early
You were all chill in
your mama’s swimming pool
of a tummy
and
now
you’ve got to find your way
Someday
Someday you’ll grab a handful
of life
(not just my finger)
and this tenuous beginning
will be behind you,
leaving not even a wispy memory
But until someday comes along,
there’s today
Wow! Love the imagery and the emotion. I am in tears.
Sioux, this is so tender and loving. That maternal eye to the fleeting moments of a baby’s finger grip. And I love how the last lines remind us to live in the beauty of this moment right now. Thanks for sharing.
You have me standing in a neonatal unit cheering for a baby!
Stepping from shadows,
warmth flows on my face,
chilled air brings welcoming goosebumps
to my bare arms
as the screams and shouts of children playing
dance around me.
Spring is here.
I love how visceral the imagery is–I can feel that air hitting your face and how the two temperatures raise those goosebumps. And isn’t Spring always “the good”?
I find your poem evocative in its simplicity, much like a haiku. I wish that was a writing talent I had!
Smiling
because my copies are all made
by 7 am.
Smiling
because students skittle out of the bathroom
when I go in to check,
to detect, the VAPE status for the moment.
Smiling
because I graded 138 essays over break
and now I get a break
from grading.
Smiling
because the coffee is hot
and the Diet Mountain Dew is cold.
Smiling
because my Forensics team
is ready to rock it at state this weekend
Smiling
because someone has to laugh at my jokes.
So if not them, why not me?
Smiling
because I
survived high school sophomores
the day after spring break.
Smiling because all I have is today
and today was good.
Boy can I relate to the essays and because I have sophomores too
Smiling as I read this, and today really was good! Thank you for showing we’re all in this together, and we experience so many of the same things every day.
Wonderful experiences to make any teacher smile.
April 1, 2019 – by Susie Morice
A Dog’s Life
Who concocted this notion of pedigree and mutts?
Watty Boy would never label himself mutt,
think himself less, not quite pure.
Our loyal housemates-canine-family
don’t look in the mirror, fooled by tilted reflections, mumble of measuring up;
don’t seek out like-lineage partners;
don’t grumble, “If only I’d been born a rich bitch”;
don’t rue yesterday
nor predict tomorrow.
They seize the day,
live in the moment,
focus on the now.
And, they dream —
feet twitching, eyelid jerking, midnight moaning
satisfying dreams.
Only in deep REM do they wander the pages of dog tales
that dwell in some far-off time
and place where rabbits and squirrels
jangle their imagination
and pique some primeval Xanadu
where they stretch and catch and live a full-on champion ethos.
Today, I’ll soak up the sun,
notice the coolness of the mud under my bare feet,
listen to the chilly wind hum through the pines out back,
run my hands over the rosemary in the garden then rub my face,
and live a dog’s life.
Ah, if only we could all live this dog’s life.
I am so intrigued with the dream part. These lines —
And, they dream —
feet twitching, eyelid jerking, midnight moaning
satisfying dreams.
Only in deep REM do they wander the pages of dog tales
that dwell…
Love the description here.
Thank you, Sarah. Watching my old dog dream is quite amusing. He has all sorts of twitches and jerks. He is truly in a very far-off place. LOL!
Oh joy to check out this project and see your face here! Our love of dogs is deep and your final stanza is magic.
Thanks, Tracy! Today was a dog-day — happy!
A dog in a great home–there’s no better life. Your poem made me think of my dog–Radar–who’s now snoozing after a game of fetch.
My dogs have a great life and give so much in return. They are truly a blessing. I wish we could all have a dog’s life where “[We] seize the day,/ live in the moment,/ focus on the now,” We could learn so much from our fur kids.
That last stanza-that life-yes, please. Reminds me of Mary Oliver…”Today, I’m flying low…”
She is my favorite ever – Dog Songs!
I can write a poem I said to myself as I —
brewed some tea
read Good Poems
walked the dogs
cuddled my grandson
watched a movie
shopped online for things I don’t need
loaded the dishwasher
swept the floor
folded the clothes
decluttered the closet
shined the silver
repotted that plant
I can write a poem.
I talk about living and loving in verse because there is poetry in all these moves of our day. Swept, folded, decluttered– yep, poetry in motion.
The list pulls me through the speaker’s day and reveals the poetry in every moment and every action. I enjoy the focus on the individual actions.
Indeed! You captured the angst I was feeling morning, facing that blank page.
Your poem speaks to my procrastinator heart. <3
I love how you structured this poem with the list of things to procrastinate and the repetition of the first line at the end. This poem is really clever!
That’s just it- it’s so real! That’s poetry. You did it! That’s what all the rest of us were probably thinking but didn’t write as honestly as you did!
My day at school today:
My heart bleeds
as I watch my student
for the past three years
pack his things-
mom and stepdad split.
My heart bleeds
as another student
will not get a meal
until midnight-
mom comes to then.
My heart bleeds
for the injustices
so many kids
face daily-
my heart aches.
After school I pull into my drive:
My bleeding heart
peeking above ground
mingling with other
budding plants-
spring is coming.
My bleeding heart
gives me hope
for brighter days
for all-
I cling to that.
My bleeding heart
reminds me that
fragile flowers blossom
despite the cold-
The kids will, too.
I am so sorry for all the disruption in the lives of your students and for your heart, which is heavy though it bleeds. I often think about all that teachers carry. What are we to do with the hearts and minds that confide in us, all that we see that others may miss. Thank you for the shift in the end toward finding a way to heal and recognize the hope.
So relatable on so many levels. Teaching is hard work, and it is also heart work. I love the hope at the end of this poem.
Little does the world know if the struggles so many students face. Heartbreaking images of students w/ broken lives.
Just a note that my use of the phrase “My heart bleeds” denotes the honest deep sadness I feel for these children. Please do not mistake for the sarcastic use of this phrase.
I love the line “fragile flowers blossom/despite the cold-” as a reminder that even though our students often face difficult and sometimes awful situations, they are resilient and we as educators are too and we can love and care for them.
Apparently I don’t know how to play this game as I posted a link to my poem (on my blog) this morning instead of posting the poem’s text, which works better w/ the photos accompanying it. ? Here’s the poem, which, as I wrote this morning, is based on my recent trip to China:
View from the Shanghai World Financial Center
Perched above Shanghai
Peering at the Pearl through
Particulate matter, a
Beige, dusty haze of
Stained gauzy air dots the sky.
100 stories high history filters through this
Storied twenty-first century city. Below
New China pricks the skyline in
Glistening steel and concrete money.
Remnants of muck linger, and the
Ancient land echos through brown
Rushing Huangpu currents threading the
Earth toward the East China Sea.
We stand above the traffic fray,
Looking beyond our feet through a
Glass bottom floor, imagining
Ourselves Colossus straddling this
Antique land & looking West toward
Home, a return to our past,
Unaware of the prologue marked by the Pearl.
Stunning — the imagery and your writing. I felt just awe in the first stanza with the “perched” and “peering” as if I were a bird gazing upon some urban stained glass. There is such movement of height and “glistening” and “rushing.” The end with “prologue” and “Pearl” (and a return to the p’s of alliteration) intrigue me.
Sweet, soft and warm,
Oh how you melt in my mouth.
Perfect pillowy goodness.
Sprinkles, chocolate, jelly filled,
glazed – oh how you make me
HAPPY!
I wait for you in the morning,
hoping to hold you in my hands
enjoying , starting off my day!
Now I’m hungry! ? “perfect pillowy goodness” us a delectable image.
I am always so happy when there is a donut waiting for me in the faculty lounge — I only take it when no one is looking though (that’s weird, I know)!
Every day
without fail
When I come home, your tail-
Wags
Shimmies
Shakes
Flops
And Moves
And I am so happy
to see you too.
Your description of the dogs tail is great! I like the “s” sounds that flip flop from word to word just like a tail. ?
Oh my gosh!! This is perfect! I get this everyday when I get home.
You’ve described my Puck! Well done. Nice alliteration in “shimmies, shakes.”
She wore a mischievous grin,
placed hand on hip,
pointed her plump finger at me, and said,
“Dad! You be the Joker and I’ll be – Batgirl!”
She zapped me with her energy —
HahaHAHAHahAhahahaHA!
I WAS the JOKER!
“Oh! You think you can stop me, Batgirl?!
We’ve been down this road before and
I always…”
“Fall asleep, Joker!”
she waved her command at me
and I fell limp to the rug,
snoring loudly.
She snickered
and jumped on top of me,
“Got you now, bad guy!”
Meanwhile…I snored.
Pushing herself off of me,
she stood straight up
and waved her finger at me again,
“Now…be a…
PINK UNICORN,
dad!”
I whinnied and bucked
onto hands and knees
(ahem)…hooves
and pranced around the area rug.
She climbed on my back
and we galloped until she was bored
or I was out of breath —
I don’t remember which came first.
Either way,
it was good
to be the Joker or
a pink unicorn.
“She climbed on my back
and we galloped until she was bored
or I was out of breath —”
The dash at the end has me wondering if that’s what ended it (and maybe not to either’s delight) but carrying around a human (or Batgirl) is tough work.
I love the whimsical capitalization shifts in the hAHa which set me up for the pink unicorn shift later. Your dialogue brings us into this really “good” moment with your Batgirl! Thank you so much for this glimpse. I feel like I am going to really get to know you through this poetry journey, my friend., and ThAt, is good.
Thank you, friend! This will be a wonderful ride. ?
The movement here is fantastic — so kid-friendly playful. And that juxtaposition of the Joker and a pink unicorn is so real to how children play. I love how you capture the joy and love you have for your daughter.
I can completely visualize this fun moment between you and Batgirl! There is nothing like the joy and giggles of a child. What wonderful memories you are making, Andy!
Andy, this is a piece that you must save for your little girl for a day in her 13th year. It exudes the love you feel for your kiddo and the love she feels for you in her playful expectations. You’ve captured the relationship that will make her marvelous as she grows to be a woman. Sometimes that 13th year needs a reminder of today.
The truth is I am tired
The truth is I try hard every day, but sometimes not my hardest
The truth is I am always worried I’m not doing enough for the kids
The truth is I don’t feel like the best role model all the time
The truth is I make mistakes and forgive my kids more easily than I forgive myself
The truth is I am still trying to fully embrace my identity as a writer
The truth is I have been faking it hoping I’m making it this year
The truth is I love my students every day, even when they drive me crazy
The truth is I know my kids will leave this world a better place than they found it
The truth is I get hope from interactions with teenagers every day
The truth is I am only one person
The truth is I am me and I am enough
(Poem inspired by The New York Times “Truth is Hard” ad campaign
Michelle,
The repetition of the phrase, “Truth is” is powerful. Loved that you used The NY Times campaign as a mentor text. It would make an amazing classroom community builder.
You are not alone.
Truth is YOU are an amazing teacher.
Truth is YOU are a writer!
Thank you so much for reading Andy! I did use this in class and it was really powerful. I love to see how poems can really help my students open up and express themselves.
These are powerful truths, and we all need to embrace “I am me and I am enough”!
Thank you so much for reading Melinda! Hoping that if I embrace “I am me and I am enough”, I can help my students do the same.
Your thoughts resonate w/ me. Teaching is complicated, and what is truth one moment may not be the next.
Thank you for reading Glenda! yes, teaching can put us through many emotions and experiences even within one day.
Michelle, this poem captures your weariness, frustration, and unwavering hope so well. I agree with Andy’s comment. This poem is powerful and your students are lucky to have you!
Thank you so much for reading Tracy! I guess the spirit truly moved me for this poem. I’m grateful to have you as a fellow writing colleague!
Not to overstate the obvious, but I love your honesty here. I wish you many days of feeling that you are enough. What a clear and healthy assessment.
Thank you very much for reading Ruth! I appreciate your comments and I try my best to be honest in my writing, especially in poems.
Good Things
open every class period
Sunrise, pink and purple
through the trees
Morning coffee
first sip hits my soul
Purring cat on my lap
a tiny motor driving stress away
Grazing equines in greening pastures
sorrel, brown, and grey framed by white fences
An unexpected dollar
found in a jacket pocket
Spring blooming
decorating the drive to work
Student who doesn’t read
asks “Do you have another book like this?”
Good Things
This poem captures so many of the good things in a day. I can picture the first sip of coffee hitting the soul and those grazing horses!
I love the line about the student who doesn’t read aksing about a book. Also love the idea of appreciating simple things.
Melinda, you know I LOVE the line about the book! I also love this bit: “Spring blooming/
decorating the drive to work” — it’s so party like. I’ve never thought that way in regard to a commute. Imagine if I did?
the Good is sometimes hard
to find when we
run from one obligation
to the next
to the next
until finally–
The day is over.
the Good is sometimes easy
to find when we
love on our kids
and their joy
and their innocence
until finally–
they beg us to stop.
the Good is sometimes complicated
to identify when we
look too hard.
take your time–
relax–
love–
breath–
find the Good.
Hard. Easy. Complicated. All of this resonates with me today. I am feeling my breath right now as I type. Inhaling. Exhaling. Finding the good. Ah, yes, there it is. Thank you.
I love the line “the good is sometimes complicated to identify when we look too hard”. I really resonate to searching too hard and not always appreciating what I already have.
I love the entire sentiment of this poem. Thinking about The Good can sometimes be really difficult and easy and just tough. The last line brings the poem into a nice neat circle. I also love your use of dashes and line breaks in the second to last stanza. They do a wonderful job of slowing the poem down to mimic the actions describe.
A cry bounces off the walls
Then silence falls
A grip like Mohammad Ali
You take ahold of me
Ten tiny fingers
Ten tiny toes
Together forever I suppose
Screaming along the tracks of life
Oh my, how the years fly by
A smile of mystery
Suggests a secret history
A laugh-a guffaw
You demand to know it all
A spirit so pure
A love so sure
How could I have known
So much like me now that you are grown
A young lady you have always been
Even with that impish grin
Your sparkle always shines
Drawing everyone to you like vines
Dreams and wishes whirl through your mind
Hard work-long hours-dedication
All crash together and combine
To make a wonderful creation
My love
My heart
My breath
My soul
My daughter
You make me whole
This is how I feel about my daughters! And you’re so right that “Screaming along the tracks of life
Oh my, how the years fly by.” I now have granddaughters (and grandsons). Thanks for capturing these feelings!
What a great tribute to your daughter! The grip like Mohammad Ali took me back to those baby fists clinging to my fingers.
“impish grin” got me smiling, grinning. It feels good to smile right now. Thank you for sharing this glorious celebration of your child. Love it.
I have 2 daughters and that end stanza.. So much truth.
This poem had me crying at my desk, missing them both.
I love the joy of motherhood you express here. The beginning really got me. All my children are grown, but I have a 3 month old grandson who lives with me, and he has the grip of Mohammad Ali taking hold of me — every day. What blessings our children give us!
Absolutely beautiful
What a sweet way to honor your daughter.
Monday stillness.
Classroom door creaks,
Silence greets.
But then–
A splash of yellow on the windowsill,
Sunlight streaming through glass.
Delicate heads still held high,
I see–
My daffodils survived.
I can too.
When I read that phrase “my daffodils survived,” I am reminded of those moments when I have felt like hiding or abandoning this work. Symbols of resilience in nature are reminders that I, too, am of and from nature and have this capacity. Thank you.
Love the line “My daffodils survived” because it surprised me. I was expecting a classroom of students! What a powerful moment.
They dashes really do change something! – a splash of yellow… beautiful! And I can totally relate to teaching on Mondays 🙂
I felt this today, feel this often. The survival feels of a Monday. And, the snippets of light and joy that carry us through. Love the imagery and word choice here.
Morning Commute
The morning drive.
Sleepy sunrise,
Bathing the horizon in pink and orange.
Sassy 12 year old,
Riding shot-gun.
Country radio,
Singing back-up..
Fifteen minutes
to breathe.
I love the visual of the sassy 12-year-old…for some reason, the country music plus riding shotgun gave this poem a Wild West feel for me! Loved it.
First, hi, Gail!
I love that kiddo “riding shot-gun” and “singing backup”. I remember those days so well. I also relate to that morning “Fifteen minutes to breath.”
Once we hit the doors of the building, that goes out the window!
I love the authenticity of this poem. It comes across as very real-no bs. Really enjoyed this!
I visited China w/ students during spring break this year. My poem is based on that trip.
“View from the Shanghai World Financial Center.” https://evolvingenglishteacher.blogspot.com/2019/04/view-from-shanghai-world-financial.html?m=1
Glenda, can you repost the text of the poem here — in the comments?
Three minutes is just enough time, I think.
Feet climb the stairs toward —
slowed with a “hello” and a smile, oh no.
Ascending again, almost there– yes, I think.
Bathroom free for me
before the bell —
ring.
I can relate to soaking up those three minute breaks. You captured that sometimes they are barely enough!
I can never seem to make it to the bathroom lol! I always get stopped by a student with a question.
A free bathroom-what a win for the day! And we are slaves to that bell. Nothing strikes more panic into a teacher’s heart than hearing that bell when there are kids in the room without supervision.
Oh my goodness, how I can relate! It’s amazing what you can do in three minutes when you know a bell is waiting! I love the use of the dashes. It adds just the right amount of tension.