Inspiration
Writing poems can be intimidating. One exercise that spoken word artist Sarah Kay suggests to make poem-ing more accessible is making lists. The list itself can be the poem or the list can be a springboard for creating other poems. There are many list possibilities, but here are several options you might consider for today’s poem:
- list of 10 things you know to be true
- list of 10 things you should have learned by now
- list of 10 things you love
- list of 10 things I’d change in the world
- list of 10…. (Why ten? Not sure, choose a number that fits you.)
Sarah’s Poem: “Three Things I Know to Be True”
Rejection
bounces you back
to the day you were picked
last
for kickball in second grade
(or this week past)
on the playground.
Love
is a verb
not a grand gesture of words
but every action big and small to serve,
a way of being in the world
(that doesn’t involve
someone standing
alone
on the playground).
Breath
may sneak up on you when you least expect
(because you are focused on rejection,
not love).
Let it come–
chest expanding,
air passing
through your nose
into the accordion
gently
pushing
a
calmer
rhythm
into
your
way
of
being
with love
on the playground.
10 Things I Love
naps on Saturday afternoon
getting together with friends after work
a glass of cold milk
snuggling with my dog
watching a spur-of-the-moment movie with my husband
Tyrion Lannister
falling asleep with a good book in my hands
my students
salt and pepper pistachios
a road trip with a friend
Sioux – You’ve captured a loving, happy person. Each item is very real. I think one of my faves is that glass of cold milk. .. it’s that thing I almost never have and yet is so satisfying. Thanks for sharing. Susie
Countdown to Spring
Sandhill cranes circle overhead with their low aquatic cries
Bug guts splash across the windshield
Skunks scurry out of hibernation
Local feedlot smells like money
Track teams run in formation
Days stretch a little longer
Feet finally don flip flops
Spring is here!
I, too, feel Spring. I love how the “feedlot smells money.” I don’t think we see the sense of smell enough in writing, and thus is a clever move.
Ten Reasons Why I Am Tired
By Mo Daley
10. A 5:00 alarm is just too damn early for any human.
9. These dogs feel the need to go out at 2:00 a.m.
8. Those papers won’t grade themselves!
7. Presentations, presentations, presentations!
6. This is the perfect time to binge watch Game of Thrones- all of them.
5. Marie Kondo- need I say more?
4. My profession requires me to have two master’s degrees PLUS 15 more hours to move to the last column on the right.
3. Ooh! This Malbec is delightful!
2. My grandson lives 92 miles away, and I need to see him every weekend.
1. Shh! Just ten more pages…
Such a fitting topic for this time of year! Your tiredness, but also your passions, come out in this poem!
MO – Even with the tired, the sense of energy is very real. The awareness of time ticking in 5:00 am and 2:00 am and the day ticking away and the miles too far at the end… these all churn the day to its exhausting end. This list really works to reveal your energy. I’m glad you could post this before I fell asleep tonight. Susie
Thank you for your wonderful comments, Susie! I so appreciate your careful reading of all the poems and thoughtful feedback. I am learning not only from the poems but from the way people are reading and responding — gives me new insights as I reread.
4 Things About Dinosaur Eggs
1.
They (my daughter opines
half-way home from preschool)
are hard to see at first,
but there, in the grass,
you’ll find hundreds,
tiny brown balls, beneath stalks
of April grass, waiting to be gathered.
2.
You bury them in the gray blanket
at the foot of the bed,
fold it half-way
then another half–
then one more time,
for warmth.
3.
They need water,
and magic,
of course.
4.
What if they’re scary? she asks,
fat lip trembling at the thought.
They’ll just be babies, I say.
Even a Tyrannosaurus Rex?
she stumbles over the words.
He’ll be yours. He’ll be perfect
to you.
This captures childhood perfectly! I love the detailed ritual to hatch.
Your poem reminds me of what it is like to be a child again. Thank you!
10 from 1 (just for fun)
I
Won
It seems
To
Me. My family of
Three
All I could hope
For,
Until I’m ninety plus
Five;
All I need to survive. The ba-
sics
lucky as
seven,
to use the expression.
To add love incarn-
ate.
To ease my mind a tail wagging ca-
nine.
To fill my heart and burdens ligh-
ten.
So whimsical and clever in form to share the joy of your family.
Very clever, Steve. I think my students could rise to the challenge of writing a poem in your style!
I especially love the line “Until I’m ninety plus five.”
Steve – What a playful piece! I may have to experiment with numbering and phrasing like this. Good brain candy. Thanks for sharing.
I am also looking at the poems for clever form and line breaks to stretch my own verse. Much gratitude to you both.
When I am running late
There will be a train
The lights will be red
The copier will be jammed
When a kid is full of snark
He is full of pain
She is full of anger
They are daring us to care
Thank you
Isn’t always spoken out loud
If you can’t explain it
to a small child,
you don’t understand it
The farther I get from childhood
The more precious it becomes
The longer my parents
are gone, the more I miss them
The older my kids get,
the more proud of them
I become
Little
kids
speak
the truth
before
you
can
make
them
stop
Oh, Melinda! This poem is fabulous! Stanza 2 stabs at my heart and reminds me to breath before I react. Stanza 4 brought a tear to my eye. Stanza 5 reminded me of my amazing family. And stanza 6 just made me LOL. ALL the feels!
Your last stanza slays me!
This Club by Deb M
There is no posting
“Join Now”
no one talks about or even
asks to be in
This Club
unimaginable to most
feared by all
comes too soon
no matter if it’s stemmed from
cancer heart failure suicide terrorism or accidental
This club.
Our friends are settled into the word wife,
while WE are trying to steer into this
identity of widow
unprepared for
This Club.
They say “Your Strong,
you’ll be fine, you’ll push through.”
My strong makes you uncomfortable
planting a smile on my face
wanting to tell my story
sitting with emotions
waves of emotions that suck the breath
from my already lifeless body
sitting with grief in
This Club.
I know being strong isn’t pushing through
it’s to be able to wear that smile,
bottling all the emotions
that make you uncomfortable
picking at the bitter label of WIDOW
That is strength.
I know God didn’t burden me with this because Im strong
or because things happen for a reason.
I know God did not say, “Here Im going to put you through this life trial.”
I know bad things happen to good people.
I know grief is not linear
nor is it worn the same on any two faces.
I know grief makes people uncomfortable
so they avoid the widow-
as if it were contagious.
This unimaginable Club.
Oh, Deb — This is such a brutal “Club” indeed. That word “strong” gets bantered about by friends and those groping for what to say, and you are so accurate that it falls so far short of identifying that thing inside you that drags you through this awful experience. You have captured the heartache and numbness that comes with putting on the face that lets the rest of us feel less uncomfortable. It seems like a sort of impotence takes over as “they avoid the widow” …no words fit or properly comfort. You have me aching for you. Thank you for sharing such a difficult part of your life. Susie
This hit me really hard. It feels so urgent and palpable. Thank you for sharing something so deeply personal and sincere.
A found poem from my Instagram feed:
Sometimes the darkest times are followed
by the lightest
Be careful who you give your midnights to
You gotta be bad
You gotta be bold
You gotta be wiser
You gotta be hard
You gotta be tough
You gotta be wiser
Don’t over think it
Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable
Be a fountain not a drain
Only dead fish go with the flow
Pay attention
Be astonished
Tell about it
You can fool a lot of yourself
But you can’t fool the soul
Enough of words —
Come to me without a sound
Joy cometh in the morning
I like the repetition in the poem, but the ending is my favorite. It’s rather seductive in a subtle way. Bravo.
I agree.. the ending is my favorite too and is so relatable. wisdom often sneaks up on us-just like your ending… beautiful.
Found poetry remains a favorite form for me. You’ve inspired me to go on a hunt!
What a great place for inspiration! “Be a fountain, not a drain.” This will be my mantra tomorrow.
Love for my girls.
Their love back.
Dogs are always faithful.
Dutiful we are to our furry ones.
Getting older sucks!
Growing older with him, love.
True
Sun’s warmth is powerful.
Breathing in the strength
Mind and body.
True
I love all of the truth you speak here! Getting older is certainly not for the faint of heart.
Tricia, your poem makes me smile!
Rejection
bounces you back
to the day you were picked
last
for kickball in second grade
(or this week past)
on the playground.
Love
is a verb
not a grand gesture of words
but every action big and small to serve,
a way of being in the world
(that doesn’t involve
someone standing
alone
on the playground).
Breath
may sneak up on you when you least expect
(because you are focused on rejection,
not love).
Let it come–
chest e x p a n d i n g,
air passing
through your nose
into the accordion
gently
pushing
a
calmer
rhythm
into
your
way
of
being
with love
on the playground.
first of all, love the form. also, “Love is a verb not a grand gesture of words” and “Breath may sneak up on you when you least expect” are powerful verses, thought provoking, very active.
Sarah — My favorite part is the reality that rejection today whips us right back to when we were rejected eons ago on the playground — these experiences do seem to have an origin in our playground days. And then remembering to breathe and find our rhythm in love… yes…. it calms me to think that rejections can be exhaled right out of our bodies. I enjoyed thinking about this poem. Thank you for sharing. Susie
“Love
is a verb
not a grand gesture of words
but every action big and small to serve,
a way of being in the world”
What a lovely definition of love.
This poem starts with a painful situation and ends with the positive reminder to breathe, recenter, and show yourself some love. I love the message.
The Moments of My Day
Here is a list of moments
that carried my through my day.
Some happy, some sad,
Some caused my nerves to fray.
Let’s start at the beginning
as the morn I groggily greet.
My daily dose of caffeine, yoga, and routine,
then to school I hastily speed.
I slid into my Wednesday a.m. meeting
just as the principal began to speak.
Next, my students came in quietly
and got to work without a squeak.
Next was art for the kiddos
and a parent meeting for me.
I hope she does what she says she’ll do.
Fingers crossed; I’ll wait and see.
Back to class with fifth grade
then fourth was next to teach.
They are learning to write literary essays.
For many, this is a reach.
Lunch, recess, then fourth grade again.
They worked well today.
Next, third grade, oh me, oh my!
A challenge-what can I say!
I helped with Crochet Club after school.
What a fun way to unwind.
I enjoyed watching them create
and seeing the satisfaction they find.
Now here I am-Home at last.
Online with my #TeachWrite friends.
Happily crafting poetry (or making an attempt)
as this day comes to an end.
(Exhale.) Wow, what a day. I just don’t think people really understand the pace of a teacher’s life, the stamina it takes to endure let alone thrive. — and I bet you did all of this with a smile. The Crochet Club seems like a gift at the end of the day, to perhaps observe and breathe rather than lead — or did you have to teach that, too! Thank you.
Thank you, Sarah! I was only a helper at the club. It truly was a gift!
Beautiful poem Tracy! I love how you tried to find positivity over the many moments of your hectic day. I liked the line “I enjoyed watching them create and seeing the satisfaction they find” because it shows how passionate you are about guiding your students to find joy. I also have found my own joy in reading your poems. Thanks for sharing and good to keep trying things out of our comfort zones.
Thank you, Michelle!
Tracy — I’m tellin’ ya, the life of a teacher is extraordinary, exhausting, and amazing. That you punctuate this monstrously full day with moments of creativity is the magic. Moments to write, calm yourself with yoga, and crochet are pretty darned important in keeping you balanced for the next day with all those kids who need you so much. I commend you for the energy and commitment to kids and writing! The writing makes you a better teacher, and the teaching makes you a better writer. A wonderful balance lies in this happy circle. Thanks for sharing your day! Susie
“Inner Monologue During A Faculty Meeting”
Look at that agenda-
front and back, no less.
If this takes until 3:30,
I may never convalesce.
This could’ve been an email.
You’re “almost done” you say.
Is it really only April?
How long until Friday?
This meetings finally over.
Wait! I know this can’t be right.
You’re turning on the projector.
You’re turning off the light.
Another inspiring TED Talk?
I can’t believe my eyes.
I swear he is immune
to our collective sighs.
Hold on just a minute-
the video will not play.
Thank you, Wi-Fi gods!
Now I can get on with my day.
This made me laugh. I’ve sat through hundreds of similar meetings. Now, I always have my writer’s notebook and my favorite pens on hand. I doodle and plan and write letters to myself about how I would do things differently if I was in charge. Thanks for the smile!
I would come to your school if you were in charge!
This was funny and so relatable! I often find my mind wandering during faculty meetings and dreading the often repetitive nature of them. The line “Wait! I know this can’t be right. You’re turning on the projector” stuck out to me because I could sense the confusion and immediate frustration and disappointment. Thank you for sharing!
Classic. I cannot imagine bring a principal and having to hold meetings knowing how hectic and overwhelming a teacher’s day/life is. “He is immune” reveals how out-of-touch or oblivious some can be. Still, you got a great poem out of it. I love how you take us into the the space and inner thoughts — you are funny!
Ha! I feel this poem!
Oh, you have the thought pattern teacher think talk down! I love that you cheer the WiFi gods! We used to play secret Bingo for words and phrases used at meetings and this reminds me so much of it! Bingo, Tiffany!
LOL! Putting this in the “wish I’d written that” file. Is there a “he” in administration who has not subjected staff to the “let’s break all the pedagogical rules” meeting?
Tiffany — I’m laughing out loud at the reality of this piece. Even from the first lines, I was groaning at the long agenda (all the best research tells us to hone those agendas and use email to make those bland announcements). I love TED talks, but at the end of a long focused day on kids and learning, it could be a video from the holy spirit and I wouldn’t be aptly focused — the exhaustion at the end of a teaching day is downright debilitating. I totally get the Wi-Fi gods saving you from losing it. Ha! Just really a fun, authentic poem.
“Two Truths and a Lie”
I know,
without a doubt,
that I will love my children
regardless of
how they came to me,
what they do,
who they become, or
where they go.
I know the surest way
to be unhappy is
to follow these
three
simple
steps:
Live in the past
Ignore the present and
Fear the future
I know when I said
I would never
speak
to my brother again,
it was
a
lie.
Andy — I like the title and it delivers. You speak big truths here indeed. I like that the “never speak to my brother again” section “was a lie.” My brother passed away without our having spoken in many years… it’s a heartache that is very difficult. Thanks for sharing. Susie
Andy, I love this poem. The three simple steps “Live in the past/ Ignore the present/ Fear the future” stuck out to me because I often find myself stuck following these and I have to break my own thought patterns and habits to find positivity even in difficult moments. Thank you for sharing!
The last six lines cut deep for me. Family is complex, but your steps will help us move closer to understanding.
Each stanza is so powerful. This line is particularly moving: “I will love my children regardless of how they came to me, what they do, who they become, or where they go.” That speaks so much about you, Andy.
I have a toddler
I rarely sit down
I am constantly cooking
I vacuum a lot
My home is full of cabinet locks and outlet covers
I no longer wear necklaces or heels
I find army guys in my bed
I get 15,000 steps a day just chasing him at the playground
My car is a mess
I never poop alone
The bathroom is always wet
I have a toddler
I belly laugh hourly
I wake up excited for the adventures of the day
Strangers smile at me
Sometimes I lay in bed and just listen to him breathe
I love to smell his hair after bath time
When he cries, a piece of my heart tears and all I want to do is hold him tight
I feel like a SUPERHERO
I give a lot of hugs
I receive monster hugs that usually involve wet kisses
I look at him and wonder what the next twenty years will bring me
How positively sweet- what a beautiful tribute to your son – I love the army men in the bed and the wet bathroom and lack of poop privacy! I love the wonder of the future and the hugs! You captured the essence of young motherhood succinctly!
Andrea, I have a toddler too and the phrases that stick out to me the most are “monster hugs” and “wet kisses” because one day I know those will change. I don’t want to forget them.
As a boy mom, this gave me all the feels! Thank you!
This is so real! As another never-pooping-alone mom of a toddler, it’s all of the trials and all of the love and all of the wins all in one. I love the details in that first stanza that are so relatable, but I especially love the “just listen to him breathe” which brings up all sorts of joy in my heart. Wonderful!
April 3, 2019
A Piece of My Life List
I do love…
the caterwauling of sandhill cranes I hear long before I see them
in their B-52 raft formations, propelling for a landing,
their gear-feet thrust forward into the nearly invisible wet south of Texas Canyon;
the iridescent indigo intensity of buntings
crisscrossing the Katy Trail so boldly and abundant
that I began to count till I lost track at eighty-nine;
the musky smell of the Wilson’s storm petrel
held in my cupped hands just before I sent him back
to the Atlantic winds over Eastern Egg Rock;
the splayed black and white headdress,
like an ancient avian wimple,
of hooded mergansers mating in Washougal;
the robins surveying the lawn, cocking heads in gestures of decoding
signals that yield juicy worms
that I’d have sworn were not there;
the six-foot span of the white pelican
on thermal currents over my head
at the Confluence in February;
the low flying sweep of the northern harrier,
skimming the leftover grasses after a too long winter
by Steigerwald Lake;
the grey and rust and white and black,
so cleanly defined on the pair of kestrel parents
in the aged oak in Stoner’s Corner out back;
the sword fights between ruby-throated hummers
battling for sugar water
dripping from fake, plastic, red flower spigots;
the bloody-headed turkey vultures that line the limestone cliffs
along the brown Missouri
like a casting line for an undead movie role; and
I love…
that my list has a long, long way to go.
by Susie Morice
So raw, authentic, and powerful. Love this Susie.
Susie, the power of this piece lies in the intimate and specific details you share. You have a wonderful way with words. Thank you for sharing.
So sweet of you to say. Thank you. Susie
i watched your verses in my mind as i read, stunning imagery.
Susie–Such a lush poem… with the perfect ending.
Before
You told me
Make-believe was
For children,
Reality is truth.
Heads in clouds
Always catch a chill.
Imagination
Is a disease.
After
I told you
Make-believe was
For believers,
My reality
Is my truth.
Heads in clouds
Always see new horizons.
Imagination
Is a gift.
Katie,
Two very strong stanza. “My reality is my truth” -so powerful. Love this.
Katie, lovely word play in this poem. I love the contrast of before and after, especially the repetition of phrases like, “Head in the clouds”
I love the before and after structure of your poem — along with how you shape your beliefs and your truth with simple changes in language. This is a structure I’ll share with students. Thank you!
Katie–“Always see new horizons.” That is one of the many reasons why you’re a wonderful teacher.
Shoulda Woulda Coulda
Remember that time
you told me to open a stock account for part of Grandpa’s shares of CSX stock you were giving me, so I did,
but the stock shares never got transferred because you sold them all a couple of years later?
Yeah, I shoulda learned.
Remember that time you promised you wouldn’t leave our Parkinson’s-Lewy Body dementia-afflicted mother home alone anymore,
but then you got the call from the police that the neighbors had helped her up and back into the house when she’d been found in the front yard after falling off the porch steps?
Yeah, I shoulda learned.
Remember that time you asked if there was anything I wanted after Mom died,
so I chose the set of her catering dishes she used at my wedding reception,
but then you donated them to the church fellowship hall instead?
Yeah, I shoulda learned.
Remember that time you offered a family vacation before Mom died and wanted my brother and me to suggest some trip ideas,
so I worked with him to do this for us,
but then you said we would just borrow the uncle’s lake house and enjoy some great meals,
but we never ended up going anyway?
Yeah, I shoulda learned.
Remember that time you promised my children for years that you’d take them to Walt Disney World,
but you kept not taking them,
so their dad got fed up with your empty promise and loaded us all up and took them himself?
Yeah, I shoulda learned.
Remember that time you told my brother and me to go as far as we wanted with our education because nothing would make our grandfather happier than for his estate to be spent on education, so your daughter earned her doctorate,
but now she has a student loan that rivals the national debt?
Yeah, I shoulda learned.
Remember that time you called after Mom died and said you weren’t going to do anything your children would disapprove of in taking an old friend who has three children and 11 grandchildren on a trip with you to Italy,
and so I said that I already disapproved because you were never much of a family man and that might be a disappointment to her,
but you continued down that road and now she wants you to go to all her grandkids’ ball games and you keep not going?
Yeah, I shoulda learned.
Remember that third time you retired and told everyone you really meant that you were going to spend more time with your children,
so we looked forward to our time together with our dad,
but then you started dating a woman with a big family and now they see you far more often than we do?
Yeah, I shoulda learned.
Remember that time you asked me to help you simplify your household, and so I came to help during my cherished summer days to clean out Mom‘s closets and yours so you could pare down and sell one house,
but now you’re having an addition built onto one house and the other one is still not on the market? Yeah, I shoulda learned.
Remember that time you asked my opinion about your dating relationship’s direction,
and so I continued to be honest and urged you to get grief counseling,
but you just got short and testy with me and the rest of the visit was strained?
Yeah, I shoulda learned.
Remember that time you asked for help when Mom wasn’t eating, so I made the five hour drive home and saw she couldn’t swallow what you were trying to feed her,
but you disagreed with me and kept feeding her steak anyway?
Yeah, I coulda slapped you and showed you what it felt like to choke.
Remember that time you called your children and said you wanted to spend precious time with us,
so we all got together and talked about things that matter?
No, of course not. Neither do I.
Because it never happened.
Yeah, I woulda been dreaming.
-Kim Johnson
There are a hundred stories here and they all ring true. Thank you for your anger and disappointment and candor…and your word choices to help explain it all to the rest of us. This piece really touched me.
I love this Kim. So relatable and authentic.
How did this feel to write? Cathartic? Gosh, I hope so. You have articulated so candidly and vividly the complexity of family — desperately wanting to trust, depend, love and yet being left wanting, disappointed, pained, furious. This is just truth that resonates deeply with me. Thank you for trusting us with this poem today.
Wow! I didn’t want to keep reading because I knew it would get worse, but I had to keep reading because you made it all feel so real. Thank you for sharing!
Kim – You have palpable emotional reactions to these wrongs. I appreciate that you shared such strong feelings in this piece. I get angry just peeking in at these disappointing experiences you have stowed away until today. The “feeding” scene was just a kick in the goods — whoof! Made me want to scream. Thank you for releasing this robust voice. And the title…well, how fitting is that! Susie
Oh, Kim. Your raw pain is palpable. I am sorry these betrayals taught you these lessons.
He lists like an old
houseboat canted on the shores
of Arthritis Creek.
HA! That is exactly the image of a way too familiar “he”! I love, love, love “Arthritis Creek.” Oh boy, do I ever see this! I can see you are having fun! Susie
I am reading and re-reading this, unpacking your careful word choice –clever.
Thank you, Sarah, but, ha, can I get a do over? No sooner than I hit the Send key did I realize that shores is too soft a word for this image. I should have used banks. It leans better and echoes canted somewhat. This poem-a-day exercise is demanding in its insistence to quit pick pick picking. (I still like banks better.) Looking forward to tomorrow’s prompt!
Sometimes the shorter poem is even more powerful. Very deep. Love it.
A Haiku and so creative – syllables, sound devices, simile with visual imagery! I love this!
Hahaha! Literally laughing out loud here. I had to read this aloud twice to my geezer because I could not read w/out laughing. “Arthritis Creek” is priceless.
Three Things I Know To Be True
Plans
All the lists and calendars and appointments can’t always ensure smooth sailing
Things happen that change your plans
Sometimes you are in Prague walking in the square, admiring the beauty
And you get a call
A relative has passed away
All the plans to enjoy change and your focus shifts to your family and their loss
Love
Love is around in more ways than you expect
Even when all you see is darkness and all you feel is pain
When you are thousands of miles away from your family and friends
You live alone in a tiny apartment, alone in the city of love
You reach for your laptop and Skype your family
And a piece of you comes back in place
Fear
This is the one that is with you always, though you try to fight it
It was with you when you held your brother’s hand, nervous on your first day of kindergarten
It was with you when your parents drove away and you were alone on your college campus
It was with you when you left everyone you knew to move to Paris for a year
It is with you now, sometimes as a fuel, sometimes as a block
These three: plans, love, and fear are things you know as pieces of you
Your poem is an autobiography. In just these lines, you have shared moments of your life “pieces of you” that are a gift to us here. Thank you!
That’s beautiful! Big-Little snapshots of a life that comes into focus and takes us to the moment. I can see the scene in Prague. I was with a friend in Boston when she got a phone call like that and had never until that moment heard authentic wailing. I’m there on that street with you.
I can absolutely relate. Love this.
Michelle, your poetry really is phenomenal. I can feel your feelings of being alone as I read. These lines “You reach for your laptop and Skype your family, And a piece of you comes back in place” gave me joy and gratitude for technology that allows us to stay close to our loved ones no matter how far we are.
Cyclical (Haiku)
Orange leaves on the ground
Tree branches barren and gray;
The cycle begins.
I did not see you
Innocent deer in the road.
I ask forgiveness.
Crystalline flakes fall
Absorbed by our mother earth.
I will too one day.
As the spring gull flies,
His cry accompanies the
thunderous river.
Spider, have no fear
Will you come outside with me?
My son is frightened.
Summer has ended.
The only constant is change.
We all must suffer.
“Summer has ended. The only constant is change. We all must suffer” These lines really stuck out to me because I could feel the pain and suffering. The summer represents a time of peace and freedom to so many and the end of it feels so final. Thank you for sharing.
I love your use of repeated Haiku in verse to describe change as a constant that we must all suffer! I’m still crying about that deer, though….I hit a cat once and it ripped me out of the frame. I love your creativity and style!
Wonderful word choice. Great imagery.
You chose such striking examples for the seasonal changes-the deer, being absorbed by the earth, spider, everyone suffering. These are outside the box and prompt deeper thought. I appreciate the reflection opportunity.
“After Viewing Van Gogh’s ‘Cafe Terrace at Night’”
evening outside a
café terrace
little figures
people drinking.
yellow lanterns
light the terrace,
the façade,
the pavement, and
projects light
over the cobblestones–
a violet-pink tinge.
on a street
gables of houses
lead away
under blue sky
studded with stars,
dark blue or violet,
a green tree.
painting night without black.
nothing but blue,
violet
green,
painting
on the spot
at night.
in these surroundings
the lighted square
coloured sulphur,
lemon green.
In the past
they draw, and
paint the picture
from the drawing
in the daytime.
suits me to paint
straightaway
in the dark,
take a blue for a green,
blue lilac for pink lilac,
you can’t make tone.
getting away from
conventional black night
poor, pallid whitish light,
a candle gives the richest
yellows and oranges
starry night in Paris,
lighted cafés
the boulevard,
something like
I’ve painted
just now.
*On her blog “Live Your Poem,” Irene Latham writes poems based on art. Yesterday her inspiration was Vincent Van Gogh’s “Cafe Terrace at Night.” I found a letter Van Gogh wrote to his sister and used it to compose a found poem today. I took some artistic license and rearranged a couple of phrases in the poem.
thank you for your verse. i love image poetry (writing), it allows for personal perspective and the acknowledgment of the universality of art. very descriptive, visual, and sensual.
Thank you for sharing! I loved the last stanza as it reminded me of when I lived in Paris and how picturesque it is. I really like the idea of using a painting as a poem inspiration as well.
I love that you used a primary source to construct and rearrange for a poem! I did a similar thing recently with a poem from Mary Oliver’s Dog Songs that she had also done with a poem by Christopher Smart. Did you get to walk through the new Van Gogh display that has opened as inspiration for this? Your poem uses stunning language and has unique style and voice.
I have not visited that display but do know what you’re referencing.
Glenda, I love your use of imagery throughout this. I feel like I’m there (I wish I was there).
I was able to view this scene as if I was there during its creation. I especially love the stanza:
“getting away from
conventional black night
poor, pallid whitish light,
a candle gives the richest
yellows and oranges”
This stanza provided a powerful visual for me.