Welcome to day 4 of the November open write for educators! We are so glad you are here. Read the inspiration, process, and mentor poem below, and then scroll to the bottom to compose your poem. Please respond to at least three other poets.
Inspiration
A tricube poem is only nine syllables! See how author Miranda Paul lays it out here: http://mirandapaul.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/How_To_Write_A_Tricube_Poem.pdf
Process
Challenge yourself to write a poem in nine syllables today! Can’t wait to read what you write. If you aren’t up to condensing your thoughts into a tricube this morning, write what makes you happy. Just write!
Linda’s Poem
Tick-tock-Tick
You tell me
Watch the clock
Which? I ask
The tall clock?
The small clock?
My wristwatch?
Any clock
You tell me
Be on time.
(c) Linda Mitchell
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
Our Host
Linda is a family Girl, Middle School Librarian, creative, curious, and loves learning! She keeps a weekly commitment to Poetry Friday blogging at A Word Edgewise and invites you to learn more about participating in Poetry Friday at: https://www.nowaterriver.com/what-is-poetry-friday/ .
Thank you for today’s prompt! I thought about what I was grateful for today, and surprisingly it was a little note on my board. My IB English juniors snickered and asked me to read it aloud while I was announcing a few other reminders from the board.
Scribbled in
blue Expo:
the word “butt”
A silly
reminder
to laugh
After all,
I work with
teenagers.
Rachelle,
Ah, the joys of teenaged humor. I’m glad it was a happy moment that spawned a poem.
And this poem – a beautiful reminder to laugh and appreciate! Such miniscule moments that resonate. I love the “blue Expo.” Heck yeah do we know those!
Things are not
always as
they may seem
Seemingly
things may not
always be
But always
may seem as
things they are
Steve, excellent play with appearances. Your poem reads like lines from Shakespeare. Very clever layers here!
I love the witty word play that reveals so many hidden meanings. Thank you for this, Steve!
Precisely. I agree with Barb – it’s as if I could hear an actor on the stage reciting this in the spotlight. Fun but also resolute in that final line.
It’s been a busy week for me, but I hate to miss being here too. Today I switch gears and begin prepping for fixing a Thanksgiving meal for friends. (The first I’ve made by myself in decades.) So here is a quick write…
Roast chicken
Potatoes
and gravy
Casserole
of green beans
Pumpkin pie
So much good
to savor
Thanksgiving
Denise, your poem is delightful! As tasty as the Thanksgiving meal! Very flavorful!
Wonderful, Denise! I’m sure your cooking will be as big a hit as your Thanksgiving Tricube! It’s perfect! Made me hungry and it’s too late for a snack!
?
I’m salivating! I am not responsible for much cooking for our feast, but I am in charge of the green bean casserole too (at what latitude do they start calling it hot dish?). Enjoy your meal!
Denise,
This is a yummy poem. Wishing you a happy Thanksgiving and successful meal prep.
Happy Thanksgiving, Denise! What a treat for your friends to have a Thanksgiving meal. Hope you had fun! My favorite three syllable line is “casserole” – such a classic food on this day!
THANK you, Linda, for these fun (and manageable!) prompts. I spend considerable effort establishing a safe and welcoming classroom.
Mean Girl sneer
heady rush
of power
scornful stare
exclusion
spikes hot tears
the salty
jugular
feeds her need
WHOOPS! I hit “post” before I finished my introductory comment. I meant to say that despite my efforts to create a safe room, the meanness sometimes sneaks in–as it has this week. I’m struggling as I realize meanness too often = power. That’s what I was going for in this 3×3.
Allison, I wanted to start my comment with the sentence, “I hate this.” but thought for a moment you’d think I meant your poem (which I don’t because I really enjoyed it), but I hate when I’m “blindsided” in the classroom when something like this happens. We’re cruising along, enjoying Hamlet (or whatever the current curricular topic may be) and BAM! somebody will say something or do something insensitive (or perish the thought, downright cruel) and I’ll think, ugh, that’s right, sometimes teenagers are, you know, teenagers. [This, albeit too lengthy response (lol), is just to say, hey, I enjoyed your poem, thank you for writing and sharing it, and I’m sorry you had to deal with this in your classroom this week.]
Scott, thank you for hearing me. I love your loquacious heart.
Oh, Allison, yes meanness can equal power, and that ended stanza speaks volumes about the shark-like feeding frenzy the Mean Girl gets. “jugular” ouch.
I think your poem is the perfect outlet to express the emotion after experiencing mean girl behavior. I still feel scarred by some devilish classroom moment. Scott certainly nailed it in his response. Let the semester end and in peace.
“feeds her need” nicely phrased. Always the challenge to get some kids to understand they can shine without casting shadows on others. Wonderfully written.
This is something my teacher education program didn’t prepare me for. And witnessing the behavior from a teacher standpoint is so uneasy. It’s never an easy conversation with the Mean Girls and their insidious attacks.
Ugggh on the mean girl issues you have to manage. I think that’s one of the hardest parts of secondary education (in my mind at least, I have no clue). In elementary school, the mean girl has not yet fully gotten her spikes sharpened so it’s less problematic, but we surely can see it coming.
I read Oprah’s book What Happened To You? and it makes me ask that question (to myself) when I meet or teach students who just seem to have that dark cloud around them. I wonder what happened to your student. So sad.
Maybe you’ll be the reason she changes and embraces positivity!!
?Hang in there!
Allison,
After the long virtual year, the snark from students seems particularly sharp this year. Like you, my best efforts to create a safe space are sometimes futile. You capture the haughty viciousness perfectly. I always figure they’re hurting, but even that doesn’t excuse it.
One Day At a Time
Taking each
day one-day
at-a-time.
I trust God;
hold on to
hope, and hope.
I struggle
to believe
in man’s words.
This is not simply a tricube poem but a beautiful prayer, Donnetta!
Donnetta, the struggle is real. Your repetition of hope, and hope, its use as noun and verb, allows us to sit within the feeling more while bringing even more hope around us.
I agree! It is so nice to know that you are also trusting God one day at a time. We hope and pray together.
Donnetta, yes, hold on to hope and hope. Amen. You have explained the difference in trust in God and the lack of trustworthiness in people.
Donetta. I feel the weight of your poem. Love the concept of holding on to hope, but sometimes it is just so darn hard!
Linda, what fun! And just the right amount of challenge for me after a long weekend and day. I added a tricube title. Stanzas follow the A and Q jeopardy format.
Challenged To
Write In Thirds
Jeopardy
Upon the heath
When shall we
meet again?
Little Pigs
I’ll huff and
I’ll puff and…
Goldilocks
Too big, small
Yes! Just right.
I like the tricube title. I thought about doing the same, but made it my first stanza.
Very clever approach to this tricube challenge! Love this!
Jennifer, this is fun! Lol.
Who are the
three witches
in Macbeth?
my best friends
when battle’s
lost and won
check radar
thunder, rain
or lightning?
I thank Linda for this prompt but I must apologize for the dark subject matter. This news must made me sick.
Killing Spree
Joy and happiness, smiles on faces
now turned upside down, devastated
needless, reckless anger embraces
Grannies and children dancing in pink
when a heated household disturbance
leaves people dead and more on the brink
What kind of crazy ends happy glee?
What unhinged folly makes the mind melt
to drive a car on a killing spree?
This act was beyond tragic. I know the power of writing to process that which is hard to process. Your poem is spot-on, and helps me process, though I’m not sure I (or anyone) will every understand how someone could do this.
Susan, sometimes we just have to write. I’m glad you wrote about this topic because it does help us to process. It’s also a reminder for us to keep sending kindness, live, and beauty out into the world.
The juxtaposition of parade and terror wrenched me. I wrote about it last night here: http://www.ethicalela.com/see-think-wonder/
Time and again I appreciate how poetry helps us to make sense of/process pain.
Thank you, Susan.
Daffodils
Snuggle in
Loamy beds.
Winds issue
Icy threats.
Roots sprawl out.
Leaves wake up
Yellow cups,
Daffodils.
Such a happy tricube! I’ll hold on to the idea that spring will come.
Ahhh, how I wish it were leaf waking time. Such beauty and comfort in the first and last stanza, though I fear our time of threats is going to be with us for awhile. Beautiful imagery here, Katrina!
Oh, lucky you! Are your daffodils really waking up? That is such a hopeful time. Sadly, here in San Diego we have no rain and the roots are not happy. I love the snuggle image.
Nature is the greatest muse. I love the return to the beginning.
I am babysitting my two young granddaughters today; this playful poetry prompt was just the right fit for me! Thank you, Linda!
Grandchildren
Run about
Dump it out
Sing and shout
Dance a beat
Time for treat
Now repeat
Up and down
Round and round
Love surrounds
Thank goodness for grandparents and the hours of love they give to babysitting. You describe that kinetic energy of littles very well in just 9 syllables!
So much fun, Maureen! I know your granddaughters must be having a blast! I love the idea of “dump it out” because I can imagine all the things in containers that they can’t wait to dump out and play with!
Fun!!!
Maureen, you’ve captured all that energy and condensed it into a little poem – a happy mirror for a tiny person who is consumed by movement! How wonderful to surround it all in love – perfect for a grandmother!
Maureen,
This is perfect. I love all the sounds and actions. I can see the littles “run about /dump it out,” I bet you’re tired!
I don’t have grandchildren, but I hope my grands thought of me like this when I spent time with them. It sounds as if you are having a grand time with your grandchildren.
I am a lover of rhyme, and you delivered! Your poem sings with the action/joy of the day!
Oh, the rhyming and the three syllables just makes this a treat to read! I can picture the girls as I read it. Love it.
Qi, za, xu
are legit
Scrabble words.
They comprise
only one
syllable,
but so do
schlepped, schmoozed, scratched,
screeched, and squelched.
Scott, my mom would’ve enjoyed this poem because she was a Scrabble fanatic. I love it. As lover of “s” alliterations, the end is my favorite!
?
ohmygosh…this is great! I haven’t played scrabble in too long. I’ve turned to bananagrams…I need a good game of scrablle!
I have the sudden need for a scrabble challenge! I love how your brain works and that you played with these syllables to fit so much in. I’m trying to decide if schlepped or squelched is more fun to say.
This makes me want to play scrabble! And reminds me of competitions with an older brother, who could win the game with the perfect two letter word like “QI” ! Thanks for this memory-making.
Oh, this is just too clever. I’m envious of how the prompt led you to think about words/syllables and all things word-wonderful. Keep committing your brilliant word play/appreciation to the page!
Wow. What a fun use of your three syllables per line. I love reading those s words aloud in the final stanza. Bravo.
Scott,
Word nerds unite! I love this. I love how short words can feel big and big words masquerade as short words. So much fun–thank you for sharing!
Linda, how fun! Thank you for another challenge that I most definitely enjoyed. I’d never written a tricube before but tend to favor syllable counting forms.
(Written for my son who is now 15 months sober!)
Son Rising
I see you
My Sonshine
Muscles ripped
Sweaty skin
Selfie shots
On hilltops
Clean living
Your healing
Son rising
© Stacey L. Joy, 11/23/21
Oh, Stacey! First, handsome. How beautifully health and joy looks on this young man! The beautiful meanings of “Son” and “Sonshine” with the sun shining in this image is wonderful!
“your healing” what every mother hopes and prays for. Love your love for your son in this.
Stacey,
Your poem is pitch perfect. Love the title. Love this victory your son is living and the joy I know it brings to you. He’s very handsome, too.
Precious poem for a precious man! What a handsome guy he is! Sobriety is no small feat, a daily commitment/challenge. Kudos to him! Love “My Sonshine” – so beautiful, Stacey.
Stacey, I’m so happy about your son! My daughter is on the same sobriety path and what dedication! I love your poem tribute to him- he’s a handsome young man, and I know you are super proud of him!
Tell me your daughter’s name and I will most definitely add her to my prayers! It is a huge milestone to make the decision, then each day of sobriety is to be commended and celebrated. Yay, Kim’s daughter! You got this!
Stacey, I love this tribute Tricube for your son! (Each stanza — from the slant rhyme in the third, to the perfect rhyme and alliteration in the second, to the clever “Sonshine” of the first — was packed with “poetic moves.” Very cool!)
Oh, Stacey, I love this on so many levels. #1, my 29-year-old daughter is reaching her second year of sobriety. #2, I love the beauty of strong bodies. #3, “son rising” is wordplay that knows my heart.
Stacey, wow. What a treasure of a poem for you and for him. “Your healing / Son rising” Beautiful.
I absolutely love your poem. Sunshine is the perfect descriptor. May he continue to heal!
I love syllable count poems!!
Once upon
a time there
was a place
where students
learned and the
teachers taught
and all the
know-it-alls
let them be.
Cara, I love this! Get outta here, know-it-alls! ?
Bam! mic drop. Perfect as is.
This does seem like make-believe – hahaha. Certainly, a time long, long, long ago!
BRAVO!
did this time really exist? What a lovely thought ❤️ Great poem!
I’m Just Gonna Shake
By Mo Daley 11/23/21
Taylor Swift
says we should
Shake It Off
stress pulls me
to Earth’s core
owning me
still, I rise
stronger now
Shaken Up
Mo, I feel you! We are definitely in the thick of things that beat us up but…
???
I like off to up…definitely feeling that these days.
Mo, I’d like to add your poem to mine to show ways we rearrange when things get strange. Do you mind? Of course, “Still, I rise” reminds me of Maya Angelou’s poem, “And Still I Rise!” Let’s continue to rise to gather, even while shaking!
Thanks, Anna. Go for it!
Mo, you managed a powerful message in so very few syllables…I am mesmerized by “stress pulls me/to Earth’s core” – acute stress can feel as if one is being absolutely sucked in sometimes.
Mo, your second stanza is so relatable. Stress can be all encompassing. Love the self-will in the final stanza.
Linda, you want us to be terse! Okay, here you are.
Year of change
Really strange
Rearrange
OOPS! I hit enter before my graphic uploaded.
IF anyone could come up with a terse vers, it’s you, Anna! Cool graphic, too!
ha! terse…I do love that word. I like the progression of your lines even more!
The image adds to the meaning or maybe allows the reader to get there more quickly. The idea of “rearrange” could be anywhere on a spectrum from wonderful to catastrophic. Seeing the image, the before and after – the before is just fine, but the after, rearranged, has a whole different beauty, and dare I say, is even more interesting than the before. So, perhaps this is our lesson – it may well be really strange to rearrange, but that rearrangement may very well turn out all the more beautiful. I think it’s what we all hope for!
Forever Chained
you left us
but I’m not
letting go
my love an
unbroken
warm embrace
you with me
forever
together
Barb Edler
23 November 2021
Barb, your title is fascinating. The word chained feels negative, but then there is such longing in the poem. Is this a complicated relationship? Aren’t all relationships complicated? Now I want to sit with this poem a while.
Barb,
I feel your grief and the love in the verses you share with us here and feel privileged to be alongside you in this way, that this space offers you a way to keep “forever/together”!
I agree with Mo…your title tilts me in a different direction…there’s a lot going on here.
Barb, your poem today reminds me of the love we feel for those we think we’ve lost to death, but really are forever chained by our love for them. Thanks for the reminder.
In so few syllables, you have conveyed the never-ending pull and power of love, Barb. I am really moved by that second stanza,
Thank you for writing about your son. Each time you do, I know you–and your son–a little more. I am especially moved by your line asserting that you will not let go.
Thank you, Allison. We should be celebrating his 32 birthday on Thanksgiving day.
Diverse TBR
Books I spy
piled up high
by our side
Which next read
do we need
to grow seed
Heart meets need
when we read
books like these
—Glenda Funk
For those who have not attended an ALAN convention before, here’s a photo from 2019, pre-pandemic. That’s my friend and NCTE collaborator Chris pictured. She’s dropped into tjis spaceca few times.
Glenda, my absolutely favorite part of NCTE conferences. Getting all of those books, the thrill and joy of sharing with my students, and hearing all the YA authors speak about their novels, etc. I’ll never forget hearing Laurie Hals Anderson speak once and she had some kind of episode where she had to lie down, but continued her talk, although that may have been at a different conference. Well, this isn’t a very good response to your poem, but I love your photo and your poem! “do we need/to grow seed”…exactly!
Glenda, there’s hope here that I needed to feel.
We, as a nation still steeped in injustice and oppression, need to read and grow seed where we cultivate joy and love!
Thank you!
??
How wonderful!
I have never had this wonderful experience, and I hope to do so one day! Great photo, those books piled high. Love these three words:
which truly define why books – in general – are so awesome.
Your title says it all. In August when I realized the latest books I had read were mostly by white men, I switched 180 and now my heart and mind are bursting with diverse books that are growing seeds. Thank you.
So Close
What we do…
How we see…
Let it be?
Muck about
in the swamp,
in the dark?
Watch the fire
from the ditch–
feel the itch.
–Dixie K. Keyes
Oh, Dixie! I am reading this as a metaphor of ignorance ready to be illuminated. People “much about/in the swamp” and “feel the itch” that they need to see!
Dixie,
The question mark gives this a paradoxical reading for me. Here’s to feeling the itch.
Dixie, I really like the opening two stanzas with their questions. I feel there is a much deeper meaning to this. Love the sense of “itch” “mucking” and “Let it be?” Very provocative!
Dixie, this suggests to me the urge or itch to do something especially if it is unknown. I often want to act and have to tell myself to be patient.
Well-versed in
lit, ALAN
lifts book love.
So I read.
Need words to
nurture hearts.
Place, space, time
to heal in
cherished page,
Sarah,
Im feeling your ALAN book love and the energy here and on social media. We do need “words to nurture heart.”
Glenda, did I just see your photo on the ALAN website?
We do need words – to nurture, to heal, to change hearts! Thoughtful verse!
“to heal in / cherished page” is so lovely. Thank you for reminding us of the need to read nurturing and healing words of love.
My Dad’s Best Friend
I asked my dad
Why Jim
was colored
He said it’s
Because his skin
Is black
Like fish have
So many colors
Too
They are all the
Same inside
Like us
This told
to a child
In 1960
From then on
I never
Saw colors
Only people
© Judi Opager
November 23, 2021
Judi,
We are more alike than different. I wonder how far we have come since 1960. I do see colors and celebrate the many hues of our diverse nation.
Yes, Glenda, seeing our colors (especially those of us of color) is humanizing, affirming, and appreciated. We are coming a long way but still have a long way to go.
Judi, your dad was a man of wisdom and what a loving legacy of love for all people he instilled in you!
Judi, I love your narrative. It reminds me of a time when I was quite young and heard that word, and I imagined rainbow-colored individuals. The end of your poem is priceless! Thanks for sharing!
Judi, thank you for sharing your experience. It helps to show people like me who are Black how many people are taught not to see our color. If I may offer a suggestion to ponder and consider, I want you to see me as a Black woman because I don’t have the option of living without it. I don’t know any people of color who don’t want to be seen as “colored” because it’s part of what makes us who we are. See and acknowledge the whole of us: colors, genders, religions, etc. the same way we see the beautiful colors in fish.
?????????
You’ve captured a time with very few words.
Judi, thank you for sharing. That was a unique perspective in 1960, to be sure. Your dad was ahead of his time. I love the idea of seeing and celebrating all the different colors of the outsides, as you see the similarities on the inside.
My dad was openly racist, as most people seemed to be then. I rejected that and spent too many decades trying to be a good white person. Now, the world has taught me that being a good person isn’t good enough to solve our white supremacist system. .
After a wonderful, fun-filled, wine country trip with my daughters…
My three girls
now women
look at me
What they see
in my eyes–
mother’s joy
What they hear
from my lips
words of love
I can so relate to your poem! My daughter and I did a wine country trip. What JOY!
“What they hear
from my lips
words of love”
What a lovely reflective poem to honor your time together!
Margaret! Thank you so much for the writing ideas and support this November! I also loved seeing your IG pics of your trip and appreciate you finding time in the margins to post on Ethical ELA.
I love this movement from “see” to “hear” and the “words of love”!
Margaret,
Lovely memory and celebration of daughters.
Margaret, your pictures show a beautiful family wonderfully blessed! I think you should frame one of those sweet pictures with this precious verse! It’s perfect.
Margaret, your poem is a gift in itself. The power of your love is striking. Beautiful and poignant poem!
So happy for you…you deserve all the joy and then some.
I can think of few things more beautiful than three adult daughters looking into their mother’s eyes and seeing “mother’s joy”! How lucky they and you are, Margaret!
Linda, thank you for this fun and accessible prompt.
Tricube rule…
alcohol runs
three sheets
to the wind
super EGO
eye-dee
sways ego
rock paper
scissors wins
rule of three
Oh, my…I don’t know what eye-dee means…but the gamble in this tricube…significant!
I was trying to be fun with ID (eye-dee) but apparently, that didn’t work out;)
OH! duh. I should have seen that.
That first Stanza has me thinking “Thanksgiving gathering.” The second does too – someone three sheets to the wind talking BIG. And over in the corner all the cousins play games
while Uncle so and so goes on and on…..this brings the past into sharp focus for me because I was one of the cousins who now is thinking about how Uncle so and so would have driven me to drink, too. I love this!!!
Stefani,
This is me echoing Kim’s comments. Holidays are like “rock paper scissors,” a game of chance. Hope the roll of dice goes your way this season.
Fun form, Linda! I did not know this one before. Love it! This is in response to Mo’s poem from yesterday.
Pandemic Teaching
heavy masked
breathing no
smiles just eyes
some here some
zoom I go
between lives
come home spent
lie down flat
motionless
Truth! I saw a young teacher out and about on Sunday. I didn’t recognize her…without her mask. Oh, a sad state of affairs.
A teacher with passion no matter the circumstances!!!
Denise, that notion of going back and forth between lives and coming home spent resonates so strongly. The smiling only with eyes I still struggle with – it’s bothered me the entire time of mask wearing that we miss the smiles and full expressions of others. It’s interesting – I was people watching yesterday in a setting where no one was masked. I smiled at a complete stranger and it clearly caught her off guard and her expression indicated curiosity – like whether she knew me or if there was some reason I was smiling – and it made me want to smile at more strangers just to see the levels of reaction. Love your Tricube today.
Denise, your ending with motionless is very powerful. I also like the double meaning of zoom here. Thank you for sharing today.
“Some here some
zoom I go
between lives”
I feel your actions and your emotions – well said!
I so relate to this! A poem for Heroes.
Denise,
You nailed that zoom life. Love how this space becomes an ongoing conversation across time, space, geography.
Denise, Wow, your final stanza is heartbreaking. People who do not teach just do not understand the emotional toll of teaching. You show the energy required and the heaviness of the masks. Teaching between the virtual world and face-to-face is overwhelming.
Denise, your poem speaks the truth! I had to buy a mask insert to keep the mask from touching my lips all day. Started to feel like I was sucking on wet paper all day. It’s better now but of course I still can’t hear my students! It’s so hard.
Hugs! Stay safe and enjoy time off!
Last breath breathe,
Soothing creed,
Unwilled deed?
Heaven bound,
Devil’s ground,
Peaceful sound?
All come to,
Farewell you,
Never- Knew?
And you rhymed, in time!
🙂
Kevin
the soothing sound of rhyming syllables…
Boxer, the rhyming is so artfully done that the message still rings clear – we have to be ready. I read this week when a friend lost her son in a motorcycle accident that when it’s not our time, we can’t force it- but when it is our time, we can’t stop it. As Shakespeare says, “the readiness is all.” This is so powerful – especially in times of pandemic! Unique words in true Boxer style.
Boxer, the rhyme impacts the flow of this short verse. Thank you for sharing.
I love the rhyming! Beautifully done!
Oh my, you have written such a haunting poem of death and loss in this short form. Brilliant. It’s sad that sometimes only in death do we learn how loved someone was.
Boxer, I feel so much loss in your poem. Your questions are thought-provoking. I’m particularly moved by your second stanza.
Linda, as a Haiku lover, I also find this tricube form appealing for thought patterns. I don’t go around telling folks this, but I think in syllables a lot of the time like I’m Haikuing my life or something throughout the day. Tricubes have nearly halved the challenge to fit thoughts into 9 syllables instead of 17. Thank you for hosting us and I introducing this to us today! I’m loving your time verse. The teacher in me cheers – any clock! Just be there on time. That humor is at a premium and I love it. Any clock!
River Tricube
when writing,
ride river
word rapids!
droughts will come
so will rains ~
levels change
when words flow
grab your pen:
listen in!
I love this…and would love to see this pasted into a student’s writing journal. It’s a great metaphor for the writing life. “Word rapids” perfect!
Wow, I was just thinking this morning how sometimes I feel like writing, then other times I go through droughts. Your poem strikes these feelings with an inked arrow?. Such a cool poem!!
and…I totally “get” thinking in syllables way more than you might think!
Word rapids!
Hi Kim! Wow, “word rapids”…can we all write a golden shovel with that phrase? I always love meta-poems.
I just loved your last stanza:
“when words flow
grab your pen:
listen in!”
That is exactly what my writing process entails!
“word rapids”—SO perfect!
Kim,
Loving this metaphor of writing being like a flowing river. Every word and line is perfect.
Kim, wow, what a perfect metaphor for writing. Love the “word rapids” and “grab your pen:/listen in!” It’s magical when a spark is like a river ride!
Each dog pleads,
it’s time, so
I am up
and dressed and
out the door;
now I know
the deep cold
of last night
has crept in
Kevin— Aah, your poem makes me miss my ol’ doggy. I know that “plead[ing].” In 9 syllables you resurrected some strong emotions here. ? Susie
Ha! Truth! That last stanza means so much more to me after having lost a dog recently that I miss dearly. In such a few syllables you have funny and sad AND a whole story. That’s kinda amazing!
Kevin, we have walked the same cold path this morning, my friend. Three noses in my face at 5 a.m. and an overnight freeze gives us the opportunity again and again to prove that we are diehard dog devotees! I told mine, “y’all can pee now, but you’re gonna have to wait til the sun comes up to poop.” That’s just how cold it is. Nobody can meander around out there looking for a good spot. You fit big thoughts into your 27 syllables!
Bojack, Fudge, Major, Hammer, and Patch.
This poem brought all my dogs back to life ?. Thanks
Ah, the joy of dogs, Kevin! “the deep cold of last night has crept in” – loved that line!
Kevin,
You’ve described life at my house! It’s a universal truth told among dog lovers that when the sun comes up the pup is up.