Day 3, January’s Open Write for Educators with Stacey L. Joy
Stacey L. Joy is a National Board Certified Teacher, Google Certified Educator, L.A. County and LAUSD Teacher of the Year with 35 years of elementary classroom teaching experience. She currently teaches 5th grade at Baldwin Hills Pilot & Gifted Magnet School. Stacey has served as a partner and guiding teacher for graduate students in the U.C.L.A. Teacher Education Program. Teaching her Joyteam students the power of knowledge, self-advocacy and justice are the core of her practice. Stacey is a poet at heart with one self-published book and several poems published in Savant Poetry Anthologies. Stacey is mom to her grown son, daughter and a Himalayan cat. Follow Stacey on Twitter @joyteamstars.
Inspiration
Nikki Giovanni has inspired many readers and writers for a long time. She is one of my favorite poets and greatest inspirations. I’m not only inspired by her poetry, but also by her fiery personality, her unapologetic Black pride, and her activism. Nikki Giovanni’s latest book, Make Me Rain, is a collection of poems and prose about her heritage, racism, and a celebration for her loved ones. Reading her poems dedicated to her loved ones gives a feeling of eavesdropping on their private conversations.
Nikki Giovanni’s poem, “Quiet (for Marvalene)”
Quietly
you open a book
to let the sunshine in
Quiet
you hum a song
that you create
to let yourself relax
Quietly
you shed a tear
when you let a loved one
go to Heaven
Quiet
like bread rising
or your grandmother
sleeping
Quietly
when you sew
a quilt to keep warm
Quiet
as the salt melts
in the bathwater
Quietly
Quietly
Quietly
when you know
whatever else it is
you were loved
Process
- Spend some time listing your “one word” possibilities. You will use that word in 2 parts of speech (in Nikki’s poem, quiet is an adjective and quietly is an adverb, but you can choose whatever you prefer). I flipped through pages of Nikki’s book and another book to find some ideas for my word list. I finally had a list of 12 words but only 3 or 4 helped me begin drafting.
- Think about something or someone who deserves some special attention today in your writing. Perhaps you may want to share a conversation with a loved one, a routine you’re missing, a book you’re reading, or even something as abstract as time (past/present/future). This could also be a perfect time to lay the burdens of 2020 to rest or even to write about your hopes for 2021.
- After you’ve decided on your word, try writing in the form that Nikki’s poem uses. I tried copying her form and that helped me flow easily. Feel free to write in this form or any form you prefer.
Stacey’s Poem, “Free”
Freely
I sit in silence
Seeking some soul soothing
Free
time to write a poem
for my mother
who listens from the clouds
Freely
sharing my heart with her
how I miss the assurance
from her hand on mine
Free
like wind on my face
or her spirit
dancing
Freely
warm tears fall
cleansing my melancholy mood
Free
To begin again
With peace in my prose
Freely
Freely
Freely
I write
and smile inside
receiving her applause on high
Stacey L. Joy ©
Your Turn to Write & Respond
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. See the image for commenting with care. 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, share this invitation form.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem by Nikki Giovanni, Stacey. I love the way that your own response poem focuses on your mother.
Thank you for this beautiful writing invitation! I didn’t have a moment to write yesterday, but found myself itching to get back to this prompt. Can’t wait to properly sit and read all the responses!
Asking the Ocean
By: Emily Yamasaki
Can
the waves crash
over the loss?
Can’t
we get past the valley?
Can
the void be filled
with time?
Can’t
good and evil
be within one being?
Can
love prevail?
Can’t
the future be
treated as the present?
Can
Can
Can
one step
have the strength
of thousand
Thank you, Stacey for selecting this poem, it has a way of making you feel the words.
Everyone’s One Word poems are amazing!
PAINFUL
Painful
Is how the doctor said
Sickle Cell Disease would rummage
My baby girl’s life
Pain
Is how I feel
Knowing there is NOTHING
Mommy can do
Painful
Is the look
Plastered across her face
Even when she manages to fall asleep
Pain
Is amplified in my fractured heart
When doctors call her
A drug seeker
Painful
Is watching her spirit
Fearful of going to sleep
Only to awaking to yesterday
Pain
Is hearing your 24 year-old
For the first time in her life say
This isn’t fair
Painful
Painful
Painful
Grateful and Faithful
Pushing forward
In love and strength
Melissa Ali
Oh my goodness, Sis, you waited until I’m ready for bed to whop me in the head and heart. Your daughter has endured the unimaginable, putting you in the path of every bullet of pain. You are the epitome of strong mom and so is your beautiful warrior princess, but I know it gets tough. I pray that she grasps your love, strength, and power and always knows she will prevail!
The ending says it all and speaks to the woman/mom in you…
I love you Melissa. Thank you for taking time to share something so near and dear to your heart. ?
Trust
A blind meeting and I hoped you would be kind.
You took me away for a drive in the hills.
Trusting
More than I should as I kissed you for the first time.
Trust
The fateful kiss would bind us together.
Trusting
The adventure in a sand buggy driving into the dunes.
Our bodies rolled in the sand.
Trust
Loyalty and love has kept us bonded
through many years.
Trusting
Allowing each to be our individual selves.
Trust
Knowing we would not break the vows we had taken.
Trusting
Trusting
Trusting
Now caring for each other in old age
Susan, this perfectly shows the tentative and risky aspects of falling in love. Then the trusting, trusting, trusting you have grown into as you grow old together. Absolutely tender and beautiful poem.
Susan, what a beautiful tribute to what must be a wonderful and obviously lasting relationship. I love the opening details to show how it all began. Trust is such a perfect word to describe a lasting relationship.
Oh gosh, Susan, I was almost afraid to finish reading. LOL I was hoping it wasn’t going to be a disastrous situation in the dark!
Thankful for the love you found with each other and the trust you built! That’s a testimony to young risk-takers willing to give it all up in the name of love.
Thank you for sharing this sweet and exciting ride with us! This is my favorite visual:
My 2021 OLW + this amazing poem inspiration + hubby’s birthday today =
Connecting
through our words
feels safe
Connection
like this
once felt impossible
Connecting
our ideas
liberates my mind
Connection
to your mind
feels a privilege
Connecting
with you
feels easy
Connection
to your heart
makes mine beat
Connecting
Connecting
Connecting
as you make space for my curiosities
and encourage my endeavors
and teach me to love you so that our
connection remains.
Happy Birthday, husband of Britt.
Lovely tribute.
Britt, how beautiful. A perfect poetic storm today with your OLW, the prompt and a birthday! Beautifully done. My favorite is that he “makes space for your curiosities.”
Awwww, how sweet is this! I hope you shared it with your husband! Happy birthday to him! Your poem could easily be a teacher’s connection to students too. I think one of the most important things we do for our students is CONNECT!
My favorite lines:
It all begins with our words! Love it! Thank you for sharing this love poem with us today.
Persistently
the yolky chick
chips away with tiny chisel
Persistence
is the feathered
one who broods
over an eggy form
Persistently
the oak makes its
statement on every russet papery
leaf it clutches
Persistence
is the squirrel
skirring to gather
acorns
Persistently
the blue beats
on many a shingled shore
Persistence
is the skiff setting
out once more
Persistently
Persistently
Persistently
it sees it
through no matter what
try try again
Yes! Wonderful persistence. It has gotten me far and a wise action to take. Thanks for sharing all the wonderful examples.
Katrina, what a tour of nature you take us on to learn persistence from our Mother. I learned a new verb that the squirrels do–skirring.
The image of the waves is my favorite. So beautifully put:
Katrina, I’m with Denise: thank you for the word “skirring”! And I also like the rhyme of “shore” and “more,” echoing the persistence of the skiff. Thanks!
Katrina, if we ever need a reminder to be persistent, it is NOW. Thank you for showing me persistence through nature’s examples. That’s something I don’t spend enough time thinking about or learning. Brilliant!
I love the end, gives me hope and encouragement no matter what!
????
Absolutely beautifully and thoughtfully written as with all your writing.
Hello, poet friends. My WORD for 2021 is “CHOICES.” I decided to use this poem prompt to delve into why I chose this word as a focal point for the next 365 (-18) days.
Thank you, Stacey, for a wonderful prompt! I will use this model with my students!
Choices
dominate my days
to do? or not to do?
Choosing
the snooze alarm
unchooses the second
chapter of a.m. reading
Chosen
socks and facemask
crackers for lunch
the route to school
Choose
which battle
is mine
in this moment
Choices:
It’s all choices, folks.
It’s up to you
(and me)
Choose
to embrace
Choice.
Choosing
Chosen
Choices
I will
abandon excuses.
I will
Choose
Free will.
Allison,
This is fantastic!! I want to print it off and hang it on my bathroom mirror as motivation!!
Great idea to use as a model for students – something to keep in mind for myself!
I almost selected this same word for my OLW this year! It has so much potential 🙂 I love your poem. I was just reflecting today that I am often prone to allowing myself to remain in paralysis when I don’t meet my goals or intentions that I’ve set. Today, though, I simply “caught up” on some writing I had planned to do the last week, and I did not give up. In the past, I would have not revisited the planned writing, but today I made a CHOICE. A choice to be easy on myself, to give myself grace.
Thank you for sharing!
Amen, Allison! Your poem is beautiful and convincing. My favorite is choosing the snooze over a chapter reading. We do constantly make choices, and your poem is a good reminder to your reader. Today I may make wise choices as a result of reading it. I hope!
Allison, right on! “Choose / to embrace / Choice” is such a great stanza. And “I will / abandon excuses” is a powerful mantra that would serve us well — and by “us” I really just mean me, lol — for this new year. Thanks for sharing this!
Allison, I love the assertiveness in this poem. The powerful positive action rings loudly at the end! I love the idea of abandoning excuses! Awesome!
Allison, my friend, this is an elixir for my soul! I don’t know if it was intentional (of course it was) or if I’m seeing it as a message I need but “Choosing/Chosen/Choices” hits me! By the time I’ve realized what I’ve said yes or no to, I must accept them as my “choosing chosen choices” and deal with the consequences with grace. This fits beautifully into my decision to remember that NO is a complete sentence when giving it as a response to a request. These lines need to be on my laptop’s screensaver:
Thank you for giving this gift to us today!
Stacey, I thoroughly loved your poem – what an ode to a mother’s love! I am most moved by these two lines –
Such a precious visual. What a gift of a Mom you had/have…beautiful. Thank you!
Oh my! That was the line that grabbed me too!
Transformation
Is on the horizon
Walking hand in hand
With Optimism
Transforming
A nation in disrepair
Transformation
Is not easy.
It takes time,
Perseverance
Transforming
Lawlessness to justice,
Hate to love,
Rejection to acceptance.
Transformation
Will feel like
Floating in a warm spring
While a floral breeze
Pushes pillows across
The blood orange sunset.
Transforming
Will look like
A warm embrace
Between two loves
Reunited.
Transformation
Transformation
Transformation
Is on the horizon
May you be right, that transformation “Is on the horizon”! Love the image of transformation being “a warm embrace” and
“will feel like
floating in a warm spring”
Beautiful images.
Oh, Shaun! I feel your hopefulness and share it! Beautiful imagery linking the abstract to the concrete. Bravo!
Your poem articulates the hopes of many and the fears of others. Praying that peace will come as we move forewarn.
Such hope and beautiful imagery, Shaun! I certainly hope we have this transformation. Love the image of pillows crossing the blood orange sunset. Gorgeous!
I love, love the hope in this poem. Globally, nationally, and personally – I feel that even without knowing me, you have specifically encouraged my hopes for this year. Thank you for sharing!
Shaun, I don’t need to copy/paste anything because I would have to “Select All” for a block quote! BRAVO! HALLELUJAH! Standing ovation over here! ????????
Shaun, I really enjoyed this! I loved your choice of the word “disrepair” in the second stanza because it’s so fitting and it also has a subtle closeness to “despair,” which is a nice counterpoint to the “Optimism” in your first stanza. Very cool!
Loved this inspiration, Stacey! Thinking of my newest granddaughter, with this poem:
Softly
Softly
you wriggle
stretch and stir
just two months old
Soft
is all of you
head to toe
Softly
your eyes turn to me
twinkling
all will be well
Soft
are those cheeks
billowing with love
Softly
you breathe
hope and peace
Soft
and precious
you are
Softly
we hold you
you hold us
our hearts overflowing
Softly
Softly
Softly
the world waits
time tiptoes
all because of you
Precious. I have a new nephew. He is the softness during this hard time. I love “you breathe hope and peace.”
Maureen,
Your poem is gorgeous and soft. So comforting and full of hope.
My heart is melting. ❤️
—Glenda
P. S. Nay I share this w/ a friend who has a new baby?
Of course! How sweet! Thank you.
Oh, yes. You capture those moments os softness…
Oh, Maurine! This is so loving and lovely (two forms of the same word!)
Soft
is all of you
head to toe
My first grandbaby is in NZ, half a world away. He is still soft (at 6 months) but not the new-baby soft you capture here. I missed that because of COVID. I hope to hold him while he’s still RUBBERY before turns to AL DENTE?
I didn’t mean to glom onto your poem and make it all about memememe. But maybe that’s what good poems do to us?
Thank you.
OK, this is inspired writing today! So, so beautiful. And you do have an amazing bundle of inspiration at hand. This line just makes me able to see those baby cheeks:
And that ending is magical–“the world waits” and “time tiptoes”
Thank you for this beauty!
We have a 17 month old, and we are expecting our second son in May 🙂 Your beautiful poem has melted me in two ways – as a mom who cannot wait to hold and smell the newborn coming! Also, though, watching my mom become a grandmother for the first time has been the most special treat. And now with her second one on the way? Her joy is palpable <3
Maureen, I adore your poem and can feel the love you have for your new grandbaby! Congratulations! My first great niece is 3.5 months old and I know the feelings you’re having oh so well. I love this:
Something about a baby’s eyes gives our hearts so much hope and love. Thank you for sharing sweetness, love, and hope with us today! “Time tiptoes/all because of you” That’s something she should savor when she’s older!
Maureen,
This is such a sweet poem. Favorite lines, “softly you wriggle/stretch and stir” and “time tiptoes” – such an apt description of that fleeting time that seems like a million years ago.
I love structure, but this was a little difficult for me. I was trying to find just the right word, so in the end, I kept it SIMPLE and reflected on my loves.
Simple
Simple
gestures can
chase the
blues away
Simply
hug me and
I know everything
will be okay
Simple
words will
turn a frown
upside down
Simply
tell me
you love me
to help me calm down
Simple
little things
are priceless
Simply
a walk with you
will do
Simply
Simply
Simply
I love you
unconditionally
and you simply show it, too.
Heather, your poem speaks to me on so many levels. You must have overheard a conversation this AM between me and hubby. ?
I love the brilliance of this and your heart. The message of this is just ask for what you want. I hope your loves respond in kind. Thank you !!
Hi Heather! Thank you for giving the form a shot. It worked, your poem is magnificent. I think the idea of choosing “simple/simply” makes it all the better. I find myself sometimes doubting I can write to a given prompt and realize most of the time it’s because I’m reaching for stars when I should begin right where I am. Your poem is a beauty! I hope you’ll get to take that walk with your love!
I can picture this on a love note:
?
This is simply beautiful, truly. A gift of a poem. I like the way these lines build in length, and I like their message – love soothes:
Simply eloquent and so full of love.
The structure enhances the sweetness of this poem.
I love the added rhyme.
Stacey, I love this challenge! And, I love your poem. “Who listens from the clouds” gave me a gut punch followed quickly by a wistful smile. I love the last three lines. They capture so much and have great rhythm and the assonance really works.
One of my New Year’s Resolutions each year is to come up with my One Word to help me strive for self-improvement. This year, I chose ENGAGE. I feel like I am half-heartedly listening to most of the people in my life as I am multi-tasking. I’m trying to really STOP whatever I am doing and LISTEN. So, I went there with my poem; it seemed like a natural choice.
Locking In
Engagement
Eye contact
Blocking out everything else
Listening
Not just hearing.
Engage
The noun sounds so easy
The verb . . . the truly doing it . . .
Is much, much harder.
Engagement
Rapt expressions
Head nods and UmmHmms
Attentive posture
No one else matters
Engage
You can’t fake it
You know when you’re not locked in
And so do they.
~Susan Ahlbrand
18 January 2021
Susan—we all need more of this. I loved the juxtaposition of what it is, vs. why it is hard—so true. it is one thing to employ it; another to maintain. Kudos!
I love this!! I love how you really show the gestures and internal feelings of the engagement you seek. A very inspiring poem!
Susan, that is the perfect word for 2021. Due to covid perhaps many of us were only half there last year. I love the line about the noun and the verb and its so true. Thank you!
Susan, yes, this needs to be my word for 2021 but I can’t accept responsibility for not being able to do it. LOL. I love that you went with it for your poem today too.
I kept reading the end because not only does it apply to ME, but also it seems to be my thoughts all dang day during distance teaching.
I’ll be glad when everyone can engage in a way that feels real and caring! Thank you for sharing today. I love it!
Great way to explore your one little word! I agree:
I agree with you – I think engagement is one of those virtues that both you and the recipient know when it is real.
Your poem speaks to me. I need to work on this more with my family. “Listening not just hearing” is so important.
AMEN! I am writing this down as a possibility for my word next year! I chose CONNECT[ion] for 2021 for very similar reasons. I felt my attention was always divided, no matter what. I wanted to connect with intention this year. Love your poem!
Stacey, thank you so much for this wonderful prompt. Your poem is so full of love, remembrance, and strength, and it is surely one Nikki Giovanni, a favorite poet of mine, would applaud too. Thank you! Barb
Light
Lightly
You touch my hand
Waking me
Light
Rising in the east
Paints the river gold
A pink sky shyly smiles
Lightly
I breathe
Praying for peace;
Understanding
Light
Like a forgotten
Friend warms our
Heavy hearts
Lightly
Touching tender wounds
Our grief is shared
Light
Reveals my tears
Falling
Lightly
Lightly
Lightly
I hear the
Angel’s wings unfurl
Welcoming you home
Barb Edler
January 18, 2021
Ohhhh, Barb!! You have blown me away today! The serenity of your words, the gentle loving flow of light to all my senses, and the peace overflowing even to the end:
Glorious!!?
I love the image of light as a friend, especially a forgotten friend – beautiful lines!
Barb – This is so touching (literally and figuratively). The light and lightly carry that gentle but urgent message of connection and memory… “angel wings”… so beautiful. Your poem reads like a prayer. Hugs, Susie
Yes, a prayer.
Oh, Barb, this is lovely. Your balance between light and lightly is both delicate and powerful. The unfurling of wings (lightly) is an image that tugs at my heart viscerally. Thank you for this beautiful poem. Sending you love.
Barb, this is so touching and beautiful. Light and lightly have so many profound and beautiful meanings. The touch, the breath, the smile of the morning sun, the prayer, tears, and grief and the unfurling of angel wings make our hearts a little heavier, yet lighter as you share your gift today. Thinking of you. Blessings.
Blue
is how I feel about
Covid teaching
from my computer
from my dining room.
It is like teaching
outside at midnight with
blindfolds on
some of the students.
Blew
a sigh of relief
is what I did (will do)
once I received
both of my vaccine shots.
Any time a needle enters my
arm, breath is exhaled and my eyes
are averted. I don’t whine
because I’m an adult
but I want to.
Blue is the color of the
phenomenal faux
leather pants I bought myself
for my birthday.
They magically hug and hold
my ample behind
and minimize my tummy
which makes them
my number one grab as soon
as I can see my friends again.
Seana—this is great—and so full o realism. I especially love the blue faux leather pants—waiting for a night out! Hope it comes soon!
Hi Seana! I’m loving how you rolled with your feelings from start to finish. I’m soooo with you on how distance teaching feels! Such a brilliant comparison:
Now I can’t wait to see you in those “phenomenal faux leather pants!” ?Love it! Love you, too!
Oh, this made me chuckle! Love that you alternated between blue and blew…moving us from the true sadness and inequity of:
and concluding with very special, delightful, blue leather pants – thank you!!
Seana,
Thank you for sharing this triptych of the pandemic. I can relate to the first stanza. I am also ooking forward to a post-vaccine time when I am not
Love the specificity and humor of
I hope you are able to enjoy time with friends in those pants soon.
Blue and blew – brilliant!!
I feel ya on covid teaching this year; can’t wait for that night out with the girls, vaccinated and maskless! 😉
Seana, what fun! This is a mentor to me to be specific. You chose three images and planted them into your reader. They help us get to know you and this chapter of life we are in. This poem today is stunning and just what I needed to read!
I loved this exercise. Your poem touched nerves that helped me choose my word. I was startled how word play bring out our emotions. Thank you.
Tender
Tenderly
I smooth the sheets
to reset the day
Tender
I wipe the countertop
that feels sticky
to my touch
Tenderly
I stack the opalescent dishes
that my grandmother used
to serve Angel food cake
Tender
like a bruised shin
or an impressionable heart
Tenderly
when I reach
out to you
Tender
as the bright day
dissolves
Tenderly
Tenderly
Tenderly
I touch
reaching out
to the past in me.
The past in you—what a beautiful phrase. You move so gently from the present day-to-dryness into the past that has made you who are.
Julieanne, what a gorgeous ending even in its longing for something now gone.
I’m grateful you wrote with us today. I wouldn’t have wanted this poem of yours to go unwritten. It is a winner!!
?
Julienne,
This is such a beautiful, gentle poem. I like the alternation between tender and tenderly. I love this stanza: Tenderly
I stack the opalescent dishes
that my grandmother used
to serve Angel food cake
Tenderly
Tenderly
Tenderly
I touch
reaching out
to the past in me.
Such a sensitive touch you’ve created between your alternating verses–they feel comforting and safe–I too love your ending of circling around tenderly to your past– it brings it all home, thanks.
for my friend, who has lost…
One Word
He was your morning
Your afternoon
Your evening
Your love
You mourn for his touch
For his voice
For his thoughts
For his love
Mornings are hardest.
You awake,
surprised, again,
in the space that
he left behind
The house is too big
without his wisdom.
He did not
teach you how
to live there,
to mourn…
without him,
for him.
Evenings are the
hardest.
In your bed, you wait
for morning to come.
Night takes too long.
And when the sun
rises again,
there you are–
Morning is here,
He is not.
And you mourn him.
Gayle, you’ve blown me away! Tears and hugs! Your end says it all!
Wow! Your ending is powerful. Thank you for sharing.
Dang, another gut puncher today! Whew, I’m so sorry for your friend’s loss. Words never seem befitting at times such as this. Your poem shows us the depth of the love and of course the depth of the grief. They say grief is the result of deep love, but I wish it didn’t have to hurt so darn much. You’ve captured the raw reality of mornings are the hardest and evenings are the hardest…it’s all hard.
These lines hit me hard because it’s speaks to the wee hours when our minds and hearts seem to soar through all the waves of grief:
Hugs to you and your friend. Thank you for sharing something so deeply personal.
Tears for your friend. The ending is perfection..
Who of, Gayle… this really whacked me. The sense of loss is profound. The “lost” and “loss” take me to two sides of the sorrow… I felt a lost battle and the sense of loss…. that reciprocal sorrow. Marking the time of day and the places left empty… (“the space he left behind”) that hollowness really tore at me. I sure feel the wound here in this touching poem. I appreciate the strength of your writing the hard piece today. Hugs, Susie
Gayle, this is so beautiful, so sad, so supportive. You have captured the essence of grief, its unending pain, especially for one’s life partner (as seems to be here). I love how you bookended your poem with thoughts on morning…and that touching last line, “And you mourn him.”
Heartbreaking. Thank you for sharing, Gayle.
Gayle, this is so well done! The repeated pausing in this stanza is heartbreaking!
You awake,
surprised, again,
in the space that
he left behind
That “again,” is masterfully done…and so deeply sad. Thank you for writing and sharing this!
Gayle, your empathy and understanding pour out in this beautiful poem. “Mornings are hardest” and “Evenings are the hardest” are powerful truth. This is so sad I’m crying.
Bless you and your friend in her loss.
Stacy, thank you for sharing your poem about your mother. I love reading writings about writing! Here’s a tribute to Elliot Smith:
Listen
Listen
I hear your voice
High and thin and dead
Listener
At a time when airplanes traced
Highjacked skylines
Of American cities
Listen
How your major chords
Dug holes in your heart
Self-portrait on a 4-track canvas
Listener
Walks repeatedly over bridges
Stares at the illusion
That the water flows backwards
Listen
You were never meant to stay
And you didn’t have to say anything
Listener
But you did and you did
So I did too
Listen
Listen
Listen
Your lost potential
Was too good for this world
Hear it echo from the bottom of the canyon
Alex, wow, this poem is so rich with connections for me. I love the allusions to music and the end is so powerful….it is an echo in itself!
Thank you, Alex! Your poem resonates with me. I consider myself a good listener, but find myself wondering why some who talk constantly never seem to take their turns to listen. So I love that you chose listen/listener! My favorite lines:
Bravo!!!!
Thanks for your challenge, sample poem, and the openness to it Stacey–I appreciate the structure, as I have little time while I’m teaching and it keeps me focused and gives me something to lean on. I like your connection with your mom in your line, “who listens from the clouds” she’s always there and ready. Here’s my try, hope to be back on another break for comments…
LIGHT
Light
ignites spark
and lifts me from my stupor
Lightly
I move into each new day
with focus present
and yesterdays still there
Light
helps guide emotions
from diving
to dark
Lightly
I consider goals
with wiggle-room
to change them
Light
I hope to keep
in my heart
while open to change
Lightly
I tread in areas
of difference for
unity
light
ever lightly
light
guide me
through this
new year
Michelle Kogan ©
I like the optimism of your poem, Michelle! We could all do with a little 2021 hope. My favorite stanza:
I like the acknowledgement of the past while still moving forward.
Michelle – the interplay of light and lightly are a wonderful dynamic. Treading lightly with an open heart and mind for oneself and others. A loving stance for this new year.
Miichelle, I really like how the word light is used to guide you in this poem…I can totally relate to “the wiggle room” you describe. I especially enjoyed:
I hope the year ahead will be blessed for you!
So lovely, so full of hope. Thank you.
This is a perfect poem to guide you forward. The lines, “lightly/I tread in areas/of difference for/unit” I think are so important to think about this week. Thank you for these beautiful and hopeful words.
Wow, this is ending works so well with the form you used. I love it. I know the feeling of needing form sometimes, especially when we are on the clock with students. Thank you for taking the time to share your poem today. It’s freeing, forgiving, and affirming to any of us who sometimes forget to be kind to ourselves.
I needed this, Michelle! ??????
Michelle, I love this. The line, “consider goals with wiggle room to change them” truly speaks to me. Thanks for this.
inextricable.
impossible to
disentangle,
separate
past, present
extricate.
possible to
liberate,
unfasten
past, present
inextricable.
tangled language,
strangling breath
from flesh
extricate.
withdrawn words,
releasing bodies
to rise
inextricable.
arms linked
we march!
I celebrated MLK with Dr. Ebony Thomas this morning! Her talk was brilliant, and I am so grateful for her work and leadership. It was the first time that I witnessed, first hand, a racist attack. The community responded with cheers for Dr. Thomas to drown the hate! So much work to be done, Ethical ELA friends!
Sarah, wow, I am always just overwhelmed by the hatred being spewed this year. I have been so saddened and truly am worried about our nation’s future. I am happy to read that the crowd used their own applause to drown out the haters. Your poem is filled with so many powerful words, but the end is truly terrific, positive, and courageous!
Thanks for sharing your words and experience!
The contrast—and the ending of strength—releasing bodies to rise. Oh, please let us rise soon!
Here you go again, wowing me with your poetry. I love the defining aspects that become the action to allow us to eventually rise! The flow reminds me of someone giving simple, precise directions that will ultimately get us to a desired goal. So incredible how you do what you with words!
My favorite lines:
Brilliant! Thank you, Sarah! ?
Sarah,
This reminds me of Faulkner’s remark that “the past is never past.” A couple days ago a common white make friend tweeted about his responsibility as a white male and the work that remains. I responded: None of us is responsible for the race in which we’re born, but we are responsible for how we live within that race. My prayer is soon those who spew hate will go away; until then we must drown out their voices. Your poem helps do that. Do share it w/ Ebony. It’s beautiful.
Sarah, I’m speechless and in awe. The line I keep repeating to myself is “impossible to
disentangle, separate past, present…” Yes so often we try to separate the past from the present and we can’t… I also love the ending, “arms linked we march on”
Sarah, thank you for writing this poem and for sharing your experience with Dr. Thomas’ lecture being interrupted by racists.
The word and its opposite you chose are battling in your poem. When you started, inextricable seemed to be inevitable. We can’t untangle the mess we’ve made–the foundation laid centuries before us. However, like a surgeon does with a scalpel, liberation can be extricated out of the mess. You end with inextricable on a positive note, and that made me have hope. My prayer is that more and more white people will join the black arms that have been linked for centuries.
Sarah — You’ve chosen real power words here…even the “ka” sound has a snap of decision or intent . I feel that especially when I read your poem aloud. I find myself almost spitting the ‘tricable” almost as if I were gritting my teeth with a certain defiance. Your poem is a powerhouse of clear intent. Were I in a classroom right now, I’d put your poem on the screen and we’d do a quadruple-read. First, we’d read it calmly. Then, we’d read it with accentuating efforts. Then, we’d read it like we really meant it, with attitude and certainty. The fourth time, we’d link arms and declare it with the strength and clarity of our united voices, a unison that lifts this poem to its higher plain. I wish I’d had time to post this yesterday. I love your poem and thank you so much for writing it. If you do a teacher demo sometime… try this! It brings the poem home like no other experience. Hugs, Susie
Thank you, Stacey, for this beautiful prompt and for sharing your words. I appreciate the opportunity to share about a special person.
Aunt Maris
Open
Days with you, a birthday treat
Wandering days with an intriguing list,
The Science Center, drop off a sculpture for repair, the “bug guy”
picking a toy, not because it’s durable,
but it delights me
Opening
My mind with new ideas
A play whose actors are silk shapes tumbling?
Is this even a play? It’s an “Aunt Maris thing”
Open
To the adventure to travelling to places
Barely visited before with her partner, my uncle, who
Clicked proudly through slides of the jungle
My aunt atop a donkey, laughing and clinging to her safari hat.
Opening
Doors and tables to
New Americans, students, welcoming
New souls to our family.
Opening
My eyes to the ways we can
Serve others with what we know about children
And our focused attention.
Open
Conversations on how to be
With someone you love.
Opening
Frozen veggie burgers with a shaking hand.
Exhausting with caring –
Cancer? Really? He was so healthy, this isn’t
How it was supposed to be.
Open
Space in home and heart
after her love
surrendered.
Opening
A bottle of wine now
Is difficult with a tremor.
Open
Memories, flooding, mixing crinkling
Confusing – the greeting cards are blank or
Meant for someone else …or a younger me.
Do you remember me now?
The loss stings.
Your imprint is not inherited,
but received with an open heart.
Oh such fun times to cherish! Your Aunt Maris sounds like the aunt we all should have in our lives. I adored this visual:
I didn’t want it to end, the fun times, and become what it had to be. I know how much that hurts.
“Confusing – the greeting cards are blank or
Meant for someone else …or a younger me.
Do you remember me now?
The loss stings.”
My heart breaks. Thank you for sharing such tender memories and deep love for someone so special.
Perfect word.
What a celebration of life and times spent with someone loved, and who showed what love is through altruistic acts. Haunting, too, questioning “do you remember me now” on the stinging loss. A magnificent tribute to your extraordinary aunt Maris. I so sense your pride in carrying her imprint. And her pride, in you.
Emily, what a wonderful tribute to an obviously unique and amazing individual! I could see she was amazing from your one line:
. I love how you connected the word open throughout this poem, and your ending lines were especially heartfelt: “Your imprint is not inherited,
but received with an open heart”
Thanks for sharing your Aunt Maris with us today!
Emily — This is such an intimate, shaping openness. She cradled all these examples in her being…you can just tell…so that she could guide you. What a precious relationship. What a precious woman. Your recollections are so specific that I found myself connecting easily to who Aunt Maris has been to you. Watching the time pass through each stanza almost made me hold my breath, wanting to hold the two of you together and freeze you both in time, so loss could never take either of you. I’ve always known you to be this open person…now I know that Aunt Maris was part of that picture. This is so tender, so beautiful. I LOVE this poem. Thank you. Susie
Emily—what a wonderful treasure of a memory—making the loss, and the ending even more heartbreaking. I can see the vibrant woman, and the loss of her…
Stacey, thank you for this prompt and for your beautiful poem remembering your dear mom. I could feel her presence as I read your lines and it brought tears to my eyes. I especially loved
as this instantly evoked memories of my own mom’s sweet hands on mine. Thanks for this space and time to feel a mom’s presence.
What Love Is
By Nancy White
Lovingly
you rubbed my back
so I could fall asleep
Love
is when you drove 100 miles
to get my favorite cake
Lovingly
you pushed our little grandson
on the swing
Love
that keeps you going
when you only want to sleep
Lovingly
you hold me
as we mourn our only son
Love
You and Jamie
Intently engaged in the model trains
Lovingly
you wash last night’s dishes
so I can write this poem
Love. A noun.
Love. A verb.
Love. A describing word.
Lovingly
I write this
knowing I am loved.
I can envision the domesticity of each of these images, intimate, shared. While the stanzas hold concrete concepts, this one intrigues because it does not: “Love / that keeps you going / when you only want to sleep” I KNOW this feeling and can sense it, but the narrator doesn’t provide a image to show what exactly is stalling sleep. That leaves it SO open to interpretation between these other stanzas, it is surprising and enticing. The final “loved” struck me. There is something rock solid about the -ed on that form, rather than being past tense it is in the present with the “am.” The -ed anchors it into certainty as well as anchoring all the images before it into a life – lovingly – lived. Sorrows. Joys. Life. Love!
Wow, Nancy, your poem is loaded with emotions all centered around love in all its forms. You brought me in immediately with the first 2 stanzas. Then you punched me…
Then almost as if time passed and soothed the wounds of grief, there’s the model trains and last night’s dishes. I love that flow and the loving-kindness of the end, knowing you are loved.
Thank you for sharing this heartfelt poem.
Nancy,
I am so moved here by the way and the how of love that you uncover for us in the verses here. I am sorry for your loss and bear witness through your poem your loss and love. Holding space. And appreciate the tender mention of “last night’s dishes.”
Sarah
Nancy,
This is good stuff! You craft so many great images. I love this stanza:
“Love. A noun.
Love. A verb.
Love. A describing word.”
as it shares in a very straightforward way the versatility of the word.
Beautiful—the everyday moments that truly show us we are loved, and that we have loved.
Oh, Stacey! I am sitting with your words on so many levels. First, bearing witness to you life and honoring your mother. I am in awe of the love and offer you my applause of your heart, the heart she nurtured in you. And then I swim in your words, mourning a personal loss — pondering what is absent but what remains. And then, as a writer, I love, love these lines:
And “warm tears falling” — thank you for this permission.
Hugs,
Sarah
I didn’t even have to think of about a word to describe my mother. This poem is for her.
Strong
Surely that word is a misnomer—
For you only weighed 102 and stood 5’4”
Yet the children you bore,
The nine surviving, at least,
Might beg to differ
Strong
Your life couldn’t have played out
The way you’d imagined it
But it is, as they say, what it is
And boy, it was for you,
Our rock
Strong
No complaints
No fits of sorrow
No tears- that we ever saw, anyway
You took life day-by-day
Likely holding on by a thread
Strong
You were so much
To so many
The strongest woman I’ve ever known
I wish I could look you in the eyes
And tell you
I wish you didn’t have to be so strong
Dear Mo, I’m thinking of my mother now, and crying more tears on this one word journey with you all today. “I wish I could look you in the eyes / And tell you / I wish you didn’t have to be so strong” is touching me today as a daughter and mother. Thank you for this beautiful tribute to your strong mama.
Mo, so much to love about your poem, your Mom, you! This hits me deeply because it says more in what IS NOT said or shown by your Mom:
That strength she carries is admirable, painful, and real. I wish, too, that she “didn’t have to be so strong”
?
This is a beautiful tribute, Mo. It resonates with my own sense of maternal strength. The grit it took for mothers to survive the birthing of scads of children in a generation that had not even perceived a microwave or a seat belt or an internet. The “day-by-day” was surely the armor that helped both our mothers. Like your wish, I too “wish I could look you in the eyes/And tell you…” all sorts of things. Mostly, I’d like to listen to her unspoken wisdom once again with clearer eyes, relearn the day-by-day, and be more like her. I so appreciate your strength and your mother for tucking that into your pocket. Hugs. Susie
Mo—i was going to write bout my grandmother with that same word—strong. Did they build them differently then, or did we only see the strength because that is what they chose to show us? I am wiping away my tears tonight….
Confident that your dear Mom would be proud of you and what you’re doing not just in the poem, but in your life of service to others.
The word that strikes
fear into the hearts
and minds of students
of any age,
Essay
It is the math teacher’s
word problem,
the physics teacher’s
Quantum Mechanics,
The Organic Chemistry
professor’s, well,
Organic Chemistry.
An essay is the one
who knocks.
Essay
And forget about explaining,
calmly, that, hey, it’s
really a word that just
means “try or attempt.”
See? It’s —
Essay
not that bad. But, heaven
forbid, ascribe a number
to the paragraphs and
they are further vilified
by students and
colleagues alike.
Essay
It is our discipline’s Keyser
Soze; we try our hardest
to convince students they
do not exist.
Essay
We rebrand them. We repackage
them. We tell students they
are just Think Alouds (but on
paper), pieces of writing,
written discussions or
discourses or explications.
They are just strings of words
put together that all convey
a similar thought.
But no,
Essay
students are convinced they
are some ancient evil,
some vengeful spirit,
a horror trope made real,
and all it takes is an English
teacher to whisper,
Essay
Essay
Essay
for their worst fears
to be realized:
Compositions are coming.
Scott, I wonder what you’ve been doing lately. I see what you did there with your easy use of you one word. Funny, I never knew that essay’s second meaning was try or attempt. I always enjoy reading your clever lines, and I learn something here every time too.
Scott — I laugh and think, indeed, you were born to be an English teacher. The dreaded essay… it makes me think that students would have a heyday with this prompt, conjuring up their demon words and then laying them out there in the poetic lines in young condemnation. LOL! I like that you used “Keyser Sose” again, as that image sure fits the onus of “essay.” My favorite part is this:
I’m pretty sure I’ve witnessed and practiced some of those tactics in my early teaching days. I love that you chose this word. Fun. Susie
Scott,
Your wit shines through in this poem. I love it. And I laughed out loud when you referenced Keyser Sose.
An essay is the one that knocks. YOu could have just written that line, and it would suffice! Excellent, my friend, and on-point!
Scott,
There are so many touchstones in this poem – organic chemistry transformed a biology major to an English major. And I love the allusion to Keyser Soze. I also love the euphemisms used to “rebrand” and “repackage” – hilarious!
Stacey, thanks so much by sharing the Giovanni poem and your own heart, then giving us the challenge to do the same. Inviting us to focus and use a single word in two different ways has provided an opportunity for us to look inside when we’d rather be outside!
GIVEN AND GIVING
Given to me was a model of service.
Giving can be a joy.
Given to me was a family of three;
Then we lost our boy.
Giving thanks for that loss
Has taken quite a cost
But given the model of Faith in my God,
I’m learning to walk in this cold, snowy sod.
Given this family of teachers
I’m learning we all can be reachers.
Giving with joy what we learn
Yet, understanding is what we yearn.
Given the model of service
We’re learning to give anyway.
Whether criticized, despised, or praised
Our thanks we now can raise
Because given the model, we now serve
With faith, in the end, comes what we deserve.
As we’re given occasions to love and to share
We can model for others that joy anywhere
That comes when we give and show that we care.
Oh, Anna, I love how you are given so you are giving. I love the idea that you were given a model of service. It has surely shaped who you have become. This is lovely:
My poem is about gratitude, so this spoke to me today.
My friend, Anna, thank you for sharing your poem today. It’s needed, appreciated, and feels like a sweet reminder for us to carry with us always. I love the end because I believe in the sharing of love, joy, and care!
You are a treasure! Love and blessings! ???
Anna, your poem caused me to reflect deeply. There is loss, that is a given. (As you know, we also lost our son.) And there is giving. That is a choice we make. For me it is essential to have the faith and hope to get us through the givens. Your joy and strength reflect your deep faith. That is an amazing gift.
Thank you, Stacey, for sharing Nikki’s poems and for your own thoughtful one.
“Free” and “freely” are the great words, and your warm conversation with mom in heaven is so relatable to many of us.
I wrote this poem for my children.
Hope
Is that “thing with feathers”
Emily D. introduced once.
Hopeful
You’ve found your feathers
And spread the wings
Hope
Doesn’t ask us for things,
Yet keeps us going
Toward our dreams.
Hopeful
Your home
Will be a shelter for free thoughts,
Dreams, and deeds.
Hope
Stays within you day and night
Through pain and fright
Hopeful
You find strength
After the fall
And keep going because
Hope
Helps us believe
Tomorrow’s full
Of new chances.
Hopeful
Hopeful
Hopeful
Your kids will play
In the garden
Full of flowers.
Hi Leilya! Ohhhh, your poem is so adorable and calming to my soul. It almost reads like a children’s book where each stanza would be on a page with colorful illustrations to capture a child’s heart. I absolutely love this! May all of our children find their feathers and spread their wings.
Beautiful!
❤️
Thank you, Stacey! I seldom write poetry, so your words mean so much!
Ah, hope. This is the thing that keeps us going. Your wishes for your children are my mine as well. “Hopeful you’ve found your feathers” is exactly what i hope so they can safely and happily fly.
I wish your children, Julieanne, and all the children the same 🙂 Thank you!
I want to share this poem with my own kids!
Thank you! You are more than welcome to share! Love to your kids!
Leilya, your poem is incredible. I love how you opened with an allusion to Emily Dickinson’s poem. Hope is so important. I especially enjoyed:
Yes, hope does keep us going and I feel like I am often losing hope. The beauty of your last stanza is priceless! Thanks for sharing your insightful poem with us today!
Thank you, Barb! This means a lot because I seldom write and share my poetry. Have to make it a habit to write down thoughts when they come to mind.
Oh, my goodness! That last stanza says it all—your kids will play in the garden full of flowers. Whatever else could we hope for? Wonderful words, wonderful message…
Thank you, Gayle! You are so generous with this praise!
Stacey,
Thank you for this assignment and the mentor texts. I’m glad you’re feeling your mom’s applause this morning, even as you miss her reassuring hand.
Read (for my colleagues)
Read the lines in the chat
Read the foreheads—or the ceiling fans
Read the black squares of white names
Read the silly meme photos
Wait out the silence,
As you ask again,
“Who would like to share
your reading of the text?”
Yes!! I have been in this room! Perfection! Read—the moment of silence!
Sharon,
My favorite line is
as this is not an easy thing to do as a young teacher. It got easier as I got older. I took those long waits as a chance to rest until someone broke. There are only so many distractions. Quite a clever poem. I love the way each line reinforces the waiting.
—Glenda
Stacey, thank you for being here today with this beautiful prompt. It fits my heart and day today, like a glove. Thank you, friend. The mentor poems were so beautiful. Yes, as Denise H. said, the tears love are real today. Your mother must have been a jewel. Your writing about her is always so full of tenderness, strength and love. Thank you for sharing your heart today. (Actually, I guess gratefully and gratitude are different words, ha! But gratitude is my word for 2021, and I couldn’t really think of another form of it!)
Gratefully
I open the letter
ever-flowing and
breathed by you
Gratitude
for love,
life,
learning
Gratefully
I sit at the seashore
and chew on the manna
Gratitude
for sustaining,
up-ending,
building
Gratefully
Gratefully
Gratefully
Welcoming the
flow of justice,
ever-flowing justice
Denise,
I like your use of these two words and appreciate the idea of “ever-flowing justice”–thank you for sharing!
Good morning/afternoon Denise! Thank you for this gorgeous poem into the world today. The ending feels like a divine cleansing:
You’ve chosen gratitude for your 2021 word and that warms my heart. I love that because it brings so much more to be grateful for as soon as we welcome it in.
Thank you for this gift today! ?
Oh, Denise,
Thank you for your poem on gratitude and gratefully. I love this pairing and so appreciate how you work in the flow of lines leading us to the “flow of justice/ever-flowing justice.” Perfect for today, especially.
Peace,
Sarah
Love these words! This is an uplifting poem.
Denise,
I feel like I’m witnessing justice reading your poem. I love the metaphor comparing the letter to manna. Basing the poem on your OLW is genius. I might have to write another poem based on mine. Thank you.
—Glenda
Well, great. Nothing but a big piles of tears this morning reading each of the mentor poems. But, sometimes, we just need a good cry, and it’s been a while – at least crying for reasons of tenderness and love. Thank you, Stacey! I appreciate the advice you gave on process. I took that step by step, just as we might reveal each to our students, and it created an enjoyable process of discovery. My poem today is dedicated to my sister who is currently living in Gabarone, Botswana.
Space (for my little brat sister, Lisa)
Spacious
endless days as children
our whole lives ahead
Space
between our nighties
sharing that double bed
divided with kicks & shoves
my half / your half
Spacious
that city we roamed
on foot on bikes
in cars, music blaring
we owned it
Space
we traversed
as our minds hungered
to college to careers
to countries beyond
Spacious
our love
embracing each
phone call, email, text
Space
is real and measured
8340 miles
keeping me from you
Spacious
Spacious
Spacious
Physics defied
you are here
in every beat of my heart
Denise, this is absolutely priceless from beginning to end – from the playfully loving name calling of Lisa to the / so cleverly used to divide the halves of the bed to the “physics defied” to emphasize the heart and nit the miles keeps us close. I hope Lisa gets to read this to laugh and cry!
Oh, this is wonderful! I feel this way about my two sisters…each over 1,000 away from me. What a wonderful connection this poem builds.
Denise, I love this ode to your sister and how you end with her “in every beat of my heart.” I hope you share this with her!
Denise, you extend the tears wrought by the mentor texts, in those last lines of yours, even as I smiled at the intro of your “little brat sister” and that dividing line of my half/your half (I know this well, even from the backseat of Daddy’s car). A loving, moving tribute – and a reminder of how quickly time passes.
Denise, your poem reminds me of my selfishness! Yes, I selfishly would like to return to the days when my family lived with me or nearby. I selfishly wish my son had not died and left the world of care, but remained here on earth to receive my care.
Then your poem also reminds me that I have good memories and should be thankful I have memories of good times for which I still long.
So…thanks for sharing.
Denise, you have given me a gift this morning. My sister and I live across the grass from each other and we’ve always been best friends. Well, at least that’s what I used to think before I realized she couldn’t stand me when I was 10! These lines brought so many fun memories of sharing a bed when we didn’t even have to since we had our own rooms. No wonder I thought she loved me. ?
Imagining being so far away from my sister is heartbreaking so I feel your pain, but I love that you ended with knowing she’s in every beat of your heart. Yes!!! I feel compelled to give my sister a little extra love today so I will! Thank you!
?
Denise,
This shifting, this movement from space to spacious with concrete numbers quantifying and abstract love that defines measurement. And the same with the “beat of my heart” — that we can count but not quantify. So moving for me this morning — and don’t we need a supporting space to cry sometimes. Why not cry in the lines and stanza of a poem offered by a friend. So grateful to Stacey!
Peace,
Sarah
Denise, you’ve perfectly described sister-love. Space shared, space between, spacious miles between… it says it all. I am reminded of my sisters and the spaces we have shared, whether together or miles apart.,
Oh, Denise—what a tribute to a wonderful relationship. Physics defied. I am envious of your relationship—and grateful to have a poem that doesn’t require Kleenex!!
Denise – This is quite precious. You are so lucky. When I was young I felt that same shared space with one of my sisters… we too shared (begrudgingly) a double bed… we were like twins. Our space, though, grew with chasms of sadness as we aged and we found we shared very few values, leaving a seismic rift I can not seem to cross. Indeed, you are so lucky… even if 8340 miles between. I’m so glad you shared this poem. Susie
What a love poem this is for your sister! Such a great comparison, spacious and space. I absolutely adore this stanza, and was teleported back in time to my own siblings and our antics at bedtime:
Voraciously
Thank you, Stacey, for a thought-provoking prompt that could be used so many ways in a classroom – and bring out so many emotions and reactions, from fears to dreams in any unit of study!
These lines were my favorite, missing my mama like you do. Something about the touch of a hand no longer here – brings tears!
Freely
sharing my heart with her
how I miss the assurance
from her hand on mine
You captured my heart his morning!
Voraciously
voraciously
you binge watch
two seasons
of Virgin River
voracious
you come to the end of season two
and need answers now.
not in November 2021 – NOW!
voraciously
you seek answers –
is there a book?
yes, there is a book.
THANK GOD, there is a book!
voracious
you do your husband a favor
and do his
Christmas shopping
ordering all 21 books
in the series
for him to wrap
and put under the tree
from him to you
voraciously
he wraps them individually
in newsprint
a letter on each present
spelling
A VIRGIN RIVER CHRISTMAS
arranged beautifully
voracious
you love and hate
his creative gift wrapping
now you have to
peek to find the right
one to borrow
from under the tree
and secretly mark
the next few in order
voraciously
voraciously
voraciously
you readiscover
the gift of reading
….even though by book 10
you still don’t know
who pulled that damn trigger….
Oh, my gosh…giggling all the way through this. I thought I’d start season 2 today. What a fun way to write out a frustration. Your hubby is a sweetie!
This poem made me laugh in recognition!! I love the use of the word “voracious” because you really captured the root word “consume” – it felt like you were consumed and consuming and just loving it. I so relate to this, and now want to watch the series. Thanks for a fun window into your relationship with books and your partner!
Ha, great one Kim. This is so fun and true. I love the “readiscover” and “pulled that damn trigger”–the addiction of media is real and yet such a great escape. Thank you for sharing today.
Kim – pure delight, start to finish! How I can relate to needing answers NOW and please let there be a book. Howling over 21 books in the series and your “gracious favor” to your husband. Such a loving image of him wrapping each one -snif! Fantastic images throughout with a totally voracious pull – love love love “readiscover.”
Just loved your poem, Kim! I also recognized some of my friends in this creation of yours 🙂
Kim, Kim, Kim! How clever and funny are you. I smiled and giggled the whole way through. I felt validated with binge watching ANYTHING and wanting to scream when the new season is almost a year away. Why do they do that to us? But you took it to a whole new level by searching for the book(s) to find out what you wanted to know. Then the next twist with the Christmas shopping, wrapping, labeling, sneaking, etc. Sooooo much fun!
My favorite lines:
Priceless! Thank you for giving me laughter in my heart this morning!
?
Kim!
Wow – -voracious, voraciously! Such big, powerful words for us and your connecting words deliver the mystery unfolding in these books and that so familiar search for “the answer”. Love that last line of “damn rigger” with the ellipses of what’s to come. (But ever since I read a poem from Jennifer Jowett that had an ellipses, I see how they can be bullets.)
Sarah
So fun! I voraciously read this! And now must watch this show I’ve passed up. Excited and slightly frightened to start though!
Kim,
This is great! Virgin River sure has snagged a lot of us, hasn’t it?
More than anything, I’m sitting here really envious of the considerate gift-giving of your husband.
YES!!!!
Kim- You made me laugh out loud. The whole Christmas present is hilarious. And the peeking to snatch one. I’m not sure if your word should be voracious or addicted! LOL! So, I confess… I binged the first season and then felt robbed when I had to wait for eons for the 2nd season. So now I’m parsing the episodes so I don’t run out before I finally get vaccinated! This is the sad commentary on my life in Covidlandia! LOL! Geez! But let me add… I loved the sweetness in your hubby arranging the books to spell out VRChristmas. What a guy!! I loved your description! Such fun. Thank you! Susie
Kim,
I’m guilty of binge watching Virgin River, too, but it never occurred to me to read the books! You must tell me if they’re worth the effort. Romance is generally not my genre of choice. Still, I’ll binge again when the new season arrives. I love the playfulness in your poem. The gift wrapping is clever, and you are sneaky. This was lots of fun to read. Thank you.
—Glenda
Stacey,
Thank you for this prompt. It’s fun and such a good example for students. I love “Rain.” Your poem is perfect for MLK day! I took a little different approach for my poem.
Pause/Paws
Pause
to knead your
paws deep into
my pillowed belly
Paws
your filed nails
sharp and sure
perfect for scratching nip
Pause
to stretch
and c-curve your
elongated frame
Paws
you clean
each crevice
meticulously stroking
Pause
to purr
your request for
a shared treat
Pause
Paws
When you curl
into a circle &
nap away the day.
—Glenda Funk
I love the paws on pillowed belly. Mmmm miss that feeling. Great use of paws and pause. So creative and your imagery is lovely.
Gosh, Glenda — I may need to have a kitty back in my life. You so clearly capture the kneading, the curling, the napping, the purring. Awww, I miss my critters. I had an old orange tabby for about 14 years…he was such a personality…gosh I loved him. This brings him right back to my lap…and tucked into the back of my knees, spooning. It’s a wonder I ever got any sleep, he was such a presence in spaces. Love this poem, my friend. Thank you! Susie
Glenda, these images of moments shared between you and your cat ate precious! I like the paws/pause and the nip/nap! The kneading deep into your pillowed belly at the very beginning drew me right in – that’s the first moment I could feel the love in the words! Sweet, precious pet love!
My cat and I can testify to the truth of every single word. A wonderful, wonderful poem.
Great pun, but used for a really deep effect of the joy and lessons our animal companions teach us.
Emily, you’ve said it. I truly enjoy the way our writers cleverly use various devices to recreate so succinctly specific, focused incidents. Pause, Paws! Cool tool.
Ohhh, Glenda! As a fellow cat lover, I am in love with your poem “Pause/Paws” for so many reasons. I could copy/paste the whole thing! ?
There’s something so sweet about them kneading into our pillowed tummies. That warms my heart.
I’ll choose this as my favorite part and image because it’s truly their sweetest and most loving “pause” they offer us.
Love this and you as well! ?
Glenda,
Such a welcome pause for us, for me, to think about what is resting in between these spaces of concern/worry around me. I love being in this pause:
(I am stretching now.) The movement in this poem brings me into it physically! Love it.
Peace,
Sarah
Oh, how clever and sweet. A warm, winter’s day kitty poem. I love reading it and mentally switching paw/pauses. Pause paws to nap away the day is my favorite image. Your poem makes me appreciate cats more.
So clever! You made me smile with my clawing friend circled beside me napping the day away.
What a great word pair – pause and paws! I love all the “c” words – curl, curve, crevice, clean, (s)cratching, but, amusingly, no ‘cat’ …we got to “cat” through your clever words! Great stuff!
Stacey – your poem and Giovanni’s make me want to be still a long, long time, maybe for days if I could, just soaking them up. Your peace to begin again, poetically, in light of your mother’s dancing spirit and her encouragement from on high…it is a blessing, this healing power of love, which does not die. <3 It is absolutely freeing.
"Awe" decided it would be my guiding word for this year. Upon reading your prompt, it demanded to be the subject of this poetic attempt. Ok. Let me just say that in 2020 I was strangely drawn to Vincent Van Gogh's The Starry Night painting. I have it on a mask, on a pair of shoes … and it's led to awe in 2021. It's the basis of this draft, laced with some of van Gogh's quotes from his letters. I may be able to write about it all more "freely" one day, but this is where I am:
Awe (The Blue Hour)
awe
on the blue hour
at the falling away of day
and the coming of the night
with hope of stars
givers of dreams
singers of songs
awe
that there is no blue
without yellow and orange
like the crackling fire
in our souls
beckoning one another
to stop, come and be warm
instead of passing by
in blue wisps of smoke
tendrils of wrongs
awe
in electric-blue currents of memory
love survives
by anchoring itself
to the last blade
of living grass
awe
the color of forgiveness
in the blue hour
(draft, F. Haley, 2021)
You had me at “Starry Night.” I am also a HUGE fan – it’s on my phone case! And I’ve seen it IRL – surprised at how small it is because in my mind, it takes up the whole horizon. Still, I never wanted to walk away from it. Blue. Blue. Blue. Not to get political, but that has been a topic of discussion – why red and why blue and the meaning of those colors as they represent each party – the positive and negative connotations. I see it threaded here as well. Hopefully, we can all adopt “the color of forgiveness,” anchor ourselves, and build upon our experiences to create anew. Love this imagery, “to the last blade / of living grass.” The word “living” is a powerful distinction – since around me, I do see a lot of grass poking up through the snow, but I would not call it ‘living.’ Indeed – above all else, may love survive. I’m all for helping it to do so. Thank you, Fran.
Fran — I LOVE the label of “the blue hour” and know that it will surface someday in my own words. Gosh, I love that image. The “falling away of the day” is so beautifully put… mmm. Beautiful images here. Thank you! Susie
Fran, your gift of words and unique approach here is stunning. I love it all, but especially this:
in electric-blue currents of memory
love survives
by anchoring itself
to the last blade
of living grass
What a beautiful thought of love anchoring itself to survive!
Fran, there are so many delicious lines in this…that fire crackling…that draw to connection between people and the blue hour. Your poem is stunning.
I love how this painting was 2020 for you, and this line seems to connect those dots for me. This line conjures that image for me, and you take it much deeper. Kudos!
Thank you, Emily; that line is originally “there is no blue without yellow and without orange” and is borrowed from van Gogh himself.
Fran, BRAVOOOOOO!!! Can you hear me shouting??
Draft? How much better will this poem get? I think it’s absolutely gorgeous, a stunning work of poetic art to be admired like the painting. I love Starry Night as well, and most definitely never have read a poem written around “awe” and Van Gogh! Brilliant decision!
This resonates with me because I want to imagine our world with love as the anchor:
Bravo, Fran!! ????????
Fran,
The blue hour is so powerful. I feel like so much of my days have been in this blue hue, a cloud that I have been trying to navigate and clear. I like the way you lead us to “awe” — “the color of forgiveness/in the blue hour”, but maybe my favorite lines are these:
So much lives in these lines – sound, image, movement, contemplation!
Thank you,
Sarah
Oh my! The blue hour falling away of day. This is exquisite. You might have seen this but if not, your poem connects beautifully https://www.brainpickings.org/?mc_cid=d541fcb840&mc_eid=fff1863d56
Fran,
Beautiful language. Purely beautiful language.
Thanks for sharing Giovanni’s poem. I especially love her second stanza. I do this. And thanks for sharing your poem to your mom. It’s lovely. I love the wealth of alliteration. This would be great to do with students as a parts of speech exercise! Going to!
A Wise Word
Balance
As you feel the familiar rhythm
Of your skate on ice
Balancing
Although the last time you’ve done this
They weren’t born
Your hands were free
Now they grasp the hands
Of ones who can’t yet
Balance
their bodies or minds or time
But they will learn to
Equilibrate their existence
Know the fine line between
Flexibility and inflexibility
Balanced
Like a glass keepsake
That should have fallen
But just rocked and rocked
Like a seesaw slowing to a still
Balance
Even when weight pulls you down
Even when there’s not enough time
Even when you’re too sad to try
Balancing
Balancing
Balancing
A new year’s rhythm
A new life
That remembers the past
And looks forward to the future
By the way this is such a great exercise for parts of speech to do with students!! Going to!!!
I am lingering on these three lines
“Your hands were free
Now they grasp the hands
Of ones who can’t yet”
Beautiful …
Kevin
Angie, I’m with Kevin- these lines ring in my ears and keep me thinking about the essence of teaching:
Balancing
Although the last time you’ve done this
They weren’t born
Your hands were free
Now they grasp the hands
Of ones who can’t yet
I really felt the movement in this poem….physical and emotional. The hands-free, pulled down, rocked and rocked all gave me a sense of moving.
So much fluid movement and grace in this poem; the glass keepsake that “should have fallen” but keeps rocking until it slows to a still is so real to me, and poignant. I am look forward to regaining a sense of balance – and always, new rhythms. Lovely ones here in your verse.
Angie, your poem is exactly what we all need right now-BALANCE! This stanza speaks to me because lately I’ve felt like I am being pushed closer and closer to the edge.
Love that you’re offering the seesaw slowing to a still even when we are rocked to the edges. Wow, perfect comfort for me right now.
Thank you and I hope you try the parts of speech lesson with your students. Would love to know how that goes. Take care!
Oh, Angie — these words — balance, balancing. I so need this new year’s rhythm. This stanza is lingering:
Love this image of glass and a seesaw!
Sarah
Angie,
Although I’ve never I’ve skated, I love watching the graceful Bali gong of those who do. I find the parallel structure toward the end very satisfying. It seems to replicate having found balance, like a skater, after wobbling on uneven lines.
Your poem tells me balancing takes practice and time. It’s very clever.
A Prayer to Honor Dr. King
Wake
from the drowse
that fogged realities
and left us ill prepared to face
the wake of insurrection, prejudice, nightmares
Wake
to find a day born of responsibility
that we might wipe the sand
from the eyes of a world
lulled in the foamy wake of mythology
Wake
to unsmear the lenses
to reveal hands reaching
palm to palm to make sisters and brothers
with shared hope, one village
Woke
in a new day
wearing the other man’s shoes
and yield hate to the clarity
in acts of understanding, justice, and love
by Susie Morice©
Ah, the wake to woke was done masterfully here …
Kevin
Ditto!
I like the idea that we can use “woke” the past tense of the verb “wake”, to show the contemporary slang that means BEING awake and ready to roll! Thanks, Susie for honor our dear Rev. Dr. Martin Luther, King, Jr., and to you Kevin, for highlighting the cleverness of Susie’s effective word choice.
Susie,
I love that your poem both honors MLK and offers a call to action. I’ve been thinking about this National day of service for a while and the call to do more. We have no local events but there is something I’m doing (and conscripting Ken to help with) to be of service. I love how your poem moves from slumber to awareness and finally to being “woke.” The line resonating most w/ me is
We have done so much damage w/ our ingrained myths. Thank you.
—Glenda
Susie, you so cleverly used wake, wake, woke and even these lines you so creatively pulled in the other wake
to find a day born of responsibility
that we might wipe the sand
from the eyes of a world
lulled in the foamy wake of mythology
Your prayer and tribute to Dr. King is heartfelt and so true today. We need as a nation now more than ever to realize his dream.
Susie, I appreciate how you connect me the reader who is experiencing social injustice today to the call to action of Dr. King.
Susie – I like how you break down the idea of waking and “woke” – each stanza reveals that there’s been fog and smeared lenses and sand in the eyes of many folks who are just now seeing or awakening to what’s always been there. A new view on a word that is tossed around a lot. Thanks for a hopeful poem!
“Wearing the other man’s shoes” echoes the beating of my own heart, Susie; without it there’s no clarity of vision, no true understanding, no unity born of love. This is a beautiful, needed prayer.
Oh, thank you, Susie for this Martin Luther King, Jr. contemplation in wake and woke. The layers of meaning in wake create such movement in the “reaching/palm to palm” and, oh my, “yield hate to the clarity/in acts” — so need the reaching and the acts for justice and love!
Sarah
[Stacey, I am always moved by your poems that honor your mommy. These lines are tender and connect me immediately to my own mama. I give great thanks for that, as it lifts my heart, my whole day, even in times when it’s hard to see through the morass of woe. I love working with you, my friend. Susie]
Honored to have had this opportunity to write with you, Susie! Your poem fills me with hope for a better future and Lord knows we need all the hope we can get! I love the way you worked with one word to start and then left us being woke! Let’s hope that comes to pass.
I loved these lines most:
Praying for a woke future and present, beginning today!
Thank you for seeking justice for all! Love you, Susie! ?❤️
Stacey, I love this prompt. Nikki Giovanni is one of my favorite poets. I have her books Bicycles and Rosa in my classroom. The simplicity of this form can lead to such depth of thought. I was moved by your poem and this caught me in the throat: “how I miss the assurance
from her hand on mine”
Hand became one of the words on my list, but I went with the word memory recalling my conversation with my mother on the phone yesterday. Your prompt helped me capture that moment. Thanks!
Conversation with Mom
Memory
your brother has learned to cook
his gumbo is better than anything
we have here
Remember
I had a boyfriend who cooked
Can’t remember his name
Memorial
a snow day
capture on her phone
from the balcony
Remembrance
ceremony of times
when we could be
together
Memory
slipping away
as snow melts
eventually
Margaret — The tone of your poem is so gentle…like a memory that sort of floats in and out of our consciousness. I smiled at the boyfriend who could cook…not remembering his name but certainly his cooking. I ached for the “ceremony of times/when we could be/together” — Oh, how I feel that! My fave, though, is the end comparison of memories and melting snow…how perfect is that?! Love this. Thank you. Susie
Margaret, I love the simplicity in this poem overall, the memory of your brother learning to cook gumbo and not being able to remember a boyfriend’s name. I love the different words you used and the last simile. Beautiful. Thanks for sharing.
What a gentle look at how delicate and yet strong memory is. The snow day to snow melting. The cooking boyfriend but not the name. Ending this poem with the word, “eventually” is perfect.
Whew, gut puncher for sure. Thank you, Margaret, for taking us into this memory poem with you and your mom. I felt it deeply, knowing quite a few loved ones who are in this stage with their parents. It’s sweet how you capture the tender patience in your poem along with slow loss at the end. Hits hard!
Hugs ?
Margaret, what a beautiful use of this prompt and capturing the conversation you had with your mom yesterday. It’s so bittersweet and lovely. Simply stated. From the snow day to the eventual loss of the snow is poignant. Great word choices today. Bless you and your mom. I hope you will be together soon.
You make fragility of memory beautiful. Like snowflakes. We hold it tightly yet it does slip away.
Stacey, thank you for this prompt this morning and your poem. My favorite line is at the end, “receiving her applause on high”–what a sweet connection of it all. I also will add Giovanni’s latest book to my reading list.
Core
gutted letters
coupled in a call
Choreograph
positioned words
in a dance,
sashaying together
Core
stabilize tempoed
lines into stanzas
Choreograph
bolero of words
fluid, personal
Core
the center flows
to build the story
Choreograph
put a pen on stage to
to play with words
Core
Choreo
Poetic
a poem’s body
as an art of movement
Stefani, what stunning word play. I love the idea of words dancing in choreography to become poetry.
Love that ending…A poem’s body as an art of movement. Beautifully choreographed.
Ooo, Stefani — This is really a dandy. I would never have thought of Core and Choreo…marvelous. The whole staging and writing of a poem is so like dancing with “a pen on stage to/play with words.” I love that idea! So creative! Thank you. Susie
Yes
Yes
“the center flows
to build the story”
Yes
(So well put and so well placed)
Kevin
Stefani,
This is a very clever approach to the prompt. I love the compare and contrast of dancing and writing, especially the stanza reading
On some level, all writing is personal. Thank you.
—Glenda
Yessss, Stefani! I’m glad you didn’t let my adjective/adverb suggestion confine you at all. Your choice is perfect, especially in how you used core/choreograph in connection to performance and poetry. Wow, so fun to read and visualize. I adore:
Thank you for sharing this lovely work of poetic art!
Stefani, what interesting connections you have made here. I love that central, connecting word of core, and then getting to the heart of the story through moving, through choreography is deep.
Stacy, what a wonderful prompt! I also enjoyed reading over your credentials. I’d love to meet you someday. For now, I get to know you through your writing. Your mother must have been a rock in your life. I can feel how much you miss her in those cleansing tears. I wish I could give some of my students this kind of relationship with a parent. What good fortune.
I wanted to get outside of myself with a poem this morning. So, I brainstormed a pile of words…and then in looking up the definition to one of my words, came across the word “final.” Hmmmm. The phonetic spelling of the bird calls can be found here: https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/northern-cardinal
Northern Cardinal
Final
note of your song
purty, purty, purty
your mate is won
Finally
what-cheer-cheer-cheer
she collects sticks and–
beakfuls of mud
Final
blade of grass
completes your nest
sweet-sweet-sweet-sweet
Finally
You bring insects and berries
churr–churr-churr
feeding her before yourself
Final
two eggs
purple, brown possibilities
shhh
Finally
You have flown
You have grown
You know fatherhood
Your process fascinates me. Your final stanza rolls like bird call with the rhymes and conclusion. I love all the sounds of birds: sweet-sweet and churr-churr. Did you give yourself the assignment to write more bird poems?
I love that the Audubon site has ways to spell AND audio of the calls to listen to … I was listening while I was reading … how cool is that …
Linda, this has me totally fascinated. I love birdies, of course, but listening to the calls of the cardinal brought my morning walks in springtime immediately to mind. I can hear every one of these calls. So I read your poem a couple times aloud and was tickled with the presence of a cardinal here in the room. Wonderful…not only did you give me a poem, but you also gave me a cardinal in my bedroom (i’m sitting in bed still…lol). And he has very specific intent. Ha! Cheeky li’l character. And I love that! Thank you! Susie
Linda,
This is a celebration of my favorite bird. I do miss seeing those cardinals, which I spent hours watching as a child. Your poem is a learning experience. It would be fun to have students follow your model for another animal. I especially like that you’ve given the bird voice w/ the onomatopoeic words. Love it all. Thank you.
—Glenda
I love the journey of the cardinal here, interspersed with the noises in a really balanced way- so very cool how you’ve woven that in. The use of the word final is an interesting word to use for marking these milestones – what a beautiful way to bring us along the journey of this bird. And, as an St. Louis girl – go Cardinals!
Hello Linda! I would love to meet you too because it feels like we are already friends. That’s what I love about this safe space.
Aside from my insane fear of birds, I will click that link and learn more about those sounds/names because just think, it could save my life. LOL. I would never run for cover from the song of a hummingbird but man oh man would I run from anything bigger. ?
Your poem sings of beauty, life, and care. From mating, to nesting, and feeding, and fleeing you capture this in a lyrical sort of way. Now, let me click that link and learn!
?
Ah, lovely poem there, Stacey. I love the slow circling of the word.
Kevin
Muse,
I know
you’re always listening
to this singing
on my own
Muse,
I lean
to the inner quiet
the crawl spaces
of this home
Muse,
where’s your
whispering
when I need it,
all alone?
Muse,
you’re here,
burrowed words,
the last lines
inside a poem
Your muse is a good friend…and that is good.
Indeed
The muse is a recurring archetype I see in your work, Kevin. I tend to just ‘talk to my brain’ about why it can’t respond or be there when I need it. I’m going to try this ‘musing’ once in a while to see if might not help, at least to get it OUT of my head space a bit. I like the phrase “burrowed words.” I often hear “borrowed words,” so your phrasing brought a smile this morning!
Kevin — Ah, that chat with the muse…love it. I love your poem. The repeated sounds of the “own” and “home” and “alone” and “poem” give these lines a certain poetic beauty. The phrasings are quite beautiful: “burrowed words” and “crawl spaces” are particular favorites for me. I like to think of a muse in these ways you describe…it’s there, she’s there (I grant her gender in my little world), and reveals herself when she sees fit… but I love her in the “last lines/inside a poem.” Wonderful! Thank you. Susie
Good morning Kevin,
This poem and your conversation with your muse are so befitting. I want so often to open the locks of my brain to force my muse into freedom. Such a battle! Oh how I love:
I lean
to the inner quiet
the crawl spaces
of this home
because I know that this muse hides in that sacred space.
Lovely chat with your muse this morning.
Kevin,
I like the way the speaker is optimistic, then mournful, then reassured as the Muse returns. Such a concise representation of how I feel during most writing sessions.