Congratulations. We’re halfway. A gentle note for today based on some feedback: remember that we’re in this for the long haul, and there are a range of ways to show up. Some of us write every day, some once a week, some only on Tuesdays—whatever rhythm is sustainable and joyful for you is enough. We’re so glad you’re writing when you can, and offering a few responses (aiming for three) is a beautiful way to witness one another’s lives and meet new people. That act of responding is its own kind of meaning-making—it’s how we internalize each other’s language, how we’re changed as readers, how our own poetry quietly grows. As we share, let’s stay mindful of one another—making space, listening closely, and helping this remain a welcoming place where all voices can be heard. We’re doing something really special here—being present to each other, holding space, noticing in ways that feel good.
Our Host

Erica Johnson’s 14 years of working with students and a lifetime of writing have shaped her into the passionate writing teacher of 2026. Her poems were recently published in the Chaos Section Poetry Project’s collection What We Hold On To: Poems of Coping, Connection, and Carrying On. When she isn’t gathering words like they were a rock collection, Erica can be found engaging in D&D campaigns and planning the next exciting adventure into the unknown!
Inspiration
Looking to write more poetry through challenges, I recently stumbled upon the website Deadlines for Writers that hosts a monthly challenge for both short story and poetry writing. This past month presented the challenge of waterfall/cascade and I found myself stumbling upon a new form of poetry called a cascade.
It’s a form created by Udit Bhatia and asks that the poet take each line from the first stanza of a poem and makes each one the final line in the stanzas that follow. This results in the poem resembling a tumbling waterfall, which was when I knew I needed to go look through my photos of waterfalls for inspiration!
Process
- Read over the cascade form and write out the pattern you wish to follow: tercet or quatrain. I found that having the structure written as a reminder helped guide my writing.
- If you need a topic, try pulling up some of your favorite photos for inspiration. Since the poem is named for its waterfall effect, I encourage nature photos, but it could be any picture that you are inspired by to write. I used one of my favorites from a local waterfall, but any image can help!
Erica’s Poem
Visiting a Waterfall in Spring
Folded in by the verdant foliage and ferns
fresh water flickering across the stair-stepped stones
– the elements engaged in perpetual play.
Every blade of grass seems intent on a delicious dip
though hesitant tips touch or tease the surface in hiding
folded in by the verdant foliage and ferns.
It’s slippery on the slime coated cove, but
we dart after the water bugs and tadpoles anyway
fresh water flickering across the stair-stepped stones.
With pants rolled up and feet pale from months embraced by socks,
we find our way from the shaded shore to silvered sunshine shallows
– the elements engaged in perpetual play!
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to 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. 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. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers.
Dear Friends,
I’ve missed you! I was at a loss for words this day, so each line is a line from a Morrison book. It is a cascade of Morrison, if you will. Very happy to be back, can’t wait to read what i’ve missed!
Much love,
Tracei
Verselove Day 15: Cascade Poetry
A Cascade of Morrison: Love is divine only and difficult always.
Here is the house. It is green and white. It has a red door.
124 was spiteful. Full of a baby’s venom.
Nuns went by in their black dresses.
It’s not my fault. So you can’t blame me.
The North Carolina Mutual Life Insurance agent promised to fly from Mercy…
They rose up like men.
If you wanna fly, you got to give up the shIt that weighs you down.
Here is the house. It is green and white. It has a red door.
Sth, I know that woman. She used to live with a flock of birds on Lenox Avenue.
They shoot the white girl first.
I didn’t do it and have no idea how it happened.
124 was spiteful. Full of a baby’s venom.
Don’t be afraid. If you surrendered to the air, you could ride it.
It didn’t take more than an hour after they pulled her out
from between my legs to realize something was wrong.
Nuns went by in their black dresses.
Like any artist without an art form, she became dangerous.
She is a friend of my mind. She gather me, man.
The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order.
It’s not my fault. So you can’t blame me.
-Tracei Willis
April 15, 2026
Thanks Erica! It’s so fun to try a new-to-me form. I love this line: With pants rolled up and feet pale from months embraced by socks–it’s such a strong visual!
(For more about my topic, you can find some context on my blog: https://thinkingthroughmylens.com/2026/04/15/cascading-kelp-npm26-15/
It lands on the shore in a heap
Golden fronds etched with waves
Once an undersea forest filled with life
Bubbles bob and float catching rays
Enormous algae growing at top speed until…
It lands on the shore in a heap
Tiny brittle stars call holdfast home
With snails and urchins among
Golden fronds etched with waves
Delicate ecosystem depending
On cool Pacific waters
An undersea forest filled with life
We must protect this watery treasure trove
Kim, I love the repetition of D’s and C’s in your last stanza: “Delicate ecosystem depending / On cool Pacific waters / An undersea forest filled with life.” And those F’s at the end! Fantastic!
CASCADE
Without you, I’d be but a drop of water,
a spit in the ocean,
a drop on the edge of a goblet,
yet together we are a cascade.
And so it goes for all the words,
parts of speech,
mere naked vocabulary,
without you, I’d just be a drop of water.
And single notes,
steps on the scale,
a do, a re, a mi,
a spit in the ocean.
No melody, no symphony,
just cacophony,
an echo faded into silence,
a drop on the edge of a goblet.
Words collude into poems,
notes transmute into chords, a rhythmic movement,
and you, with me,
together we are a cascade.
by Susie Morice © April 15, 2026
Susie,
Stunning and lively word cascade celebrating all the ways “Words collude into poems” and the reality we’d be nothing without them
what an amazing poem. “But a drop of water” and “an echo faded into silence” when alone but “together…a cascade” such a lovely love poem. Glad I read it!
Masterpiece! Susie, this poem is like a love letter to us here. Love this, love you!
Hi Erica,
Thank you for hosting today and for introducing me to the cascade form. I lost time because April is still April-ing. I will be sure to read/respond soon. I would love to work at this poem more, but for now, it’s what I have to offer. I had a deluge of inner thoughts today. 😫
A Cascade of Inner Thoughts
Don’t say what’s on your mind
You’re almost at the finish line
38 more days to go
January’s papers are jammed in his folder
Her desk looks like an old garage
Don’t say what’s on your mind
Those packaged waffles are poison
I’m suffering from 5th graders’ tarty farts
You’re almost at the finish line
Parents messaging like they’re babies
“Is his tummy hurting?” “He was tired.”
38 ore days to go
©Stacey L. Joy, 4/14/26
Inner thoughts! It’s nice that you have a place to share those inner thoughts here with us! So you can keep on keeping quiet at school. Countdown is on. Fun poem, Stacey.
Stacey, keep your eyes on a prize 38 more days! You are on a finish line. I am laughing at the poison waffles and your 5th graders bodily response to them 😄
Stacey — I think the cascade form was just right for the cascade of “inner thoughts,” as they seem to tumble into our laps and we feel we know “what’s on your mind.” These are quite a unique lifetime experience for you… I’m smiling at the 5th graders and the whiny parents… I know you will miss school a lot, but I also bet that some bits you won’t miss a bit… “tarty farts”…. LOL! Cool poem. Susie
Oh yes! Keep those inner thoughts inside for the next 38 days (except with us and with your poetry!). Love “January’s papers are jammed in his folder”–a vivid sense of time and jammed-ness!
Stacey, your inner thoughts of the end of school flow nicely. Teacher thoughts are humorous: “I’m suffering from 5th graders’ tarty farts” and the last stanza is funny also.
Erica,
Ive been hoping for a prompt thst would allow me to gesture the golden hand bridge near DaNang, Vietnam and you delivered. I love waterfalls featured in your poem.
River in the Sky
[cascade poem]
Stretching across Ba Na Hills
two marble hands hold up high
a golden river in the sky
connecting heaven to earth with
stone as ancient as Divine
stretching across Ba Na Hills.
A pedestrian pathway guides our way
across a ribbon of concrete silk where
two marble hands hold up high
a way to nature’s paradise the
weathered & worn world made new on
a golden river in the sky.
Glenda Funk
April 15, 2026
Here’s the Canva. It didn’t attach.
Glenda, I haven’t written yet today but logged on to read and landed in what I hope will be one of your incredible travel with Glenda poem collections. Your image connecting heaven to earth is particularly important given what happened in that country not that many years ago. Please keep sharing this journey
Your poem definitely does the Golden Bridge justice, I know. I love “a ribbon of concrete silk”. It was a great site to see!
Glenda — Like Sarah, you too are experiencing so many incredible places and people… and art and culture… The cascade sure seems to fit Ba Na Hills. The stretching and connecting and guiding… such an extraordinary place. Lovely. Susie
Oh, so beautiful. That poem title. Wow. So many lines to savor. I will reread over and over.
Glenda,
Brilliant photo and poem. You’ve really captured this gorgeous place with your metaphors and imagery. Where are you travelling?
Glenda, I love how the opening stanza sings. The beauty and its purpose is celebrated through your word choice. Love the line” a golden river in the sky.” Stunning Canva, too!
Glenda, the words, the lines, a photo–this is extraordinary. These lines are crafted so beautifully:
“two marble hands hold up high
a golden river in the sky”
And then, “connecting heaven to earth” creates the image of continuity between this and the other worlds. Love it so much!
Glenda, I imagine all of these amazing travel poems in a Shutterbug album like you do with your Canva graphics. What a great way to preserve all the memories of your trips – in photos and in poems. I am hoping to take a travel theme starting in July for the rest of the year with my OLW: Onward! I’m already curating a reading list of journey reading – inward and outward. And poetry. Your travel bug has bitten.
Wow Glenda, this is beatiful. Exquisite. Each line is so perfect though the weathered world made new on/a golden river in the sky may be my favorite. BRAVO!
This must be an extraordinary place. Your poem describing the connection of heaven to earth is beautiful. Of course, I love everything with hands. Where is this?
This is lovely, Glenda! The lines you’ve crafted to cascade work so well. And I love the line “weathered & worn world made new.”
Oh, my goodness! That is so amazing. I’ve seen photos before, but to think of you being there makes it all the better. Your poem is lovely with all the long i sounds and the phrases like “golden river in the sky” Beautiful!
Glenda, your cascading poem and photo are filled with imagery. The lines move succinctly to the last stanza with a beautiful piece of alliteration. Well-done.
It is almost 50, & light rain in Seattle.
Is there anything more predictable?
Yes, for this is April. Nothing cruel here.
Shall we do without hope?*
On the light rail with bored travelers,
The trees are greening up,
for they know the assignment when
It’s almost 50, & light rain in Seattle.
Two more stops before we arrive
and now, just like that, it’s heavy
rain with some added hail while we walk.
Is there anything more predictable?
Soon I’ll get to hold my grandson;
And soon after that he’ll be grown.
But for today, he’s still 3 and holdable.
Yes, for this is April. Nothing cruel here.
Greening trees in the spring.
The Pope opining about theology.
And all will be well with the world.
Shall we do without hope?*
________
Erica, thank you for this lovely new form. The/f/ and /s/ sounds frolicking in your poem are delightful. I was inspired not by waterfalls, but by my travel through Seattle this afternoon, the greening trees, *Wendell Berry, JD Vance who thinks the Pope should not opine about theology, Pope Leo, who dares to speak truth, and T. S. Elliot’s line ‘April is the cruelest month’.
Denise,
I appreciate how you captured the current moment that’s marred in cruelty and pure strangeness and turned it into what matters…
And soon after that he’ll be grown.
But for today, he’s still 3 and holdable.
Greening trees in the spring.
I love that you included your grandson and April with its spring welcome!
Denise,
This form fits the idea of a grandson being “still holdable.” I like both the normalcy of rain here and the symbolism of what is raining on us as you lead into the Pope stanza. The question “Shall we do without hope?” answers itself. Nope. And the Pope gives me hope, as does time w/ grandsons.
Such a great flow of a beautiful moment. I love the question of predictability. Very smooth.
thanks for sharing
I’m in awe of how you covered so many topics in your poem today, Denise. Have a great visit with your family!
Denise, you’ve mastered the form here. I am in awe at how well all the repeated lines fit perfectly into each stanza. I love the descriptions of Seattle, the speaker’s progress, and the details about your grandson are precious! Gorgeous poem!
Denise, your soft nod toward T.S. Elliot’s “cruelty” of April worked so well. I noticed it right away. As Barb mentioned, each cascading line seamlessly connects to the previous lines in each quatrain. Love the stanza about your grandson, who is still holdable–“Yes, for this is April. Nothing cruel here.” Enjoy your visit 🥰
Denise, safe travels to you, and what a blessing to be spending time with family! This part hits hard:
Soon I’ll get to hold my grandson;
And soon after that he’ll be grown. (they just don’t stay little, and I am missing my grand babies and wish I could visit them more often).
Denise, this format is absolutely perfect for sharing this anticipatory set about visiting your grandson and then connecting with the Pope’s thoughts on theology! I really enjoyed this.
I love the way this cascade takes us on a trip–through town and through your thoughts! Let’s not do without hope!
Erica, thank you for hosting today and offering this poetry form. All I can say is that I tried. My poem is based off several photographs from a trip to Europe where we spent a couple of days in Switzerland where my grandmother was born.
Nature’s Unexpected Grace
angel wings bless a sapphire sky
their golden harps serenade a copper stream
nursing from crystal-white waterfalls
we travel across a mountainside
our hearts begin to dream
angel wings bless a sapphire sky
a quaint village answers our call
rich chocolates, beer, a lively chorus
their harps serenade a copper stream
our spirits take flight across a pristine lake
we photograph each church and channel
nursing from crystal-white waterfalls
Barb Edler
15 April 2026
Barb,
This entire poem is so lovely. I feel like I am right there with you.
their golden harps serenade a copper stream
nursing from crystal-white waterfalls
A gorgeous first stanza that promises and delivers. Thank you!
Barb,
I read your poem before reading your note and realized this idyllic place you have painted with words. So many lush images; “sapphire sky,” “copper stream,” “crystal-white waterfalls.” All gorgeous and topped w/ tasty chocolate and beer.
Barb,
Oh my, this line “golden harps serenade a copper stream”! How did you stir that combination of images and sounds. Just stunning, Barb.
Sarah
Barb, you are an imagery master! I can’t get over how connected “a sapphire sky,” “a copper stream,” and “crystal-white waterfalls” are. The first two are minerals, and crystal is about their structure, which makes me think about the sky’s crystal-like reflection in the water. So captivating!
Barb, your use of color is divine: sapphire, golden, copper, crystal-white, chocolate – – the sounds of the chorus and harp, the peace of the stream and waterfall, the comfort of church and mountainside…..and hearts that dream. Perfectly lovely! I want to be right there in Switzerland, where I loved as a child reading about the setting of Heidi of the Mountains. I love this!
Barb, your opening stanza is amazing with angel wings, a sapphire day, golden harps…..This has an amazing foundation that you build an image so powerful that i feel as if I am sipping a bear rather than a cup of tea!
Barb, those words and phrases are a beautiful unexpected grace…”crystal-white waterfalls” “harps serenade a copper stream” and “angel wings bless a sapphire sky” wow!
Erica,
What a fun prompt to play with today! I loved your imagery and getting wrapped up in the waterfall adventure. Thanks for delighting and hosting today. I borrowed Lucielle Clifton’s won’t you celebrate with me title to match the spring I witnessed on my walk today.
Won’t you celebrate spring with me?
the ancestors have summoned the profusion of heart
the wisdom of the pink weeping cherry tree
desire was screaming in its own way
delicate, fragile, and magnificent
gracing us with ribbons of pink blossoms
won’t you celebrate spring with me?
the neighborhoods have accepted the proposal
the petals glisten like nature’s bouquet
The dancing daffodils join in — exuding yellow sunshine
the bounce and buzz of the bumble bee
hinting us to transform and rejoice
an invitation to taste the same nectar as if its yours
the wind rustles and praises the pink precision
the serene calm and silence fuels the scents
at any given moment — bouts of wanting
the morning morphs into a minute of birdsong
splashes of pink veiling and unveiling
desire was screaming in its own way
This line is gorgeous among many others, but it really pulled me in “the wind rustles and praises the pink precision.” I will see anew from now on.
Sarah
Darshna, I love the gorgeous color in this one. I feel immersed in a gorgeous spring day with bees buzzing and daffodils radiating sunshine. Truly lovely poem!
Darshna, Your writing has painted a gorgeous portrait of Spring…somewhere else. We’re having cascade of rain that is accompanied by heavy winds stripping our early blossoming trees of the beauty you paint! Thanks for the reprisal. We know April showers bring May flowers, but…
Darshna, you’ve crafted a poem that celebrates spring with every line, so L. Clifton question fits perfectly to emphasize the nature’s gift of spring. Love the imagery in “pink blossoms,” “dancing daffodils,” and alliteration and onomatopoeia in “the bounce and buzz of the bumble bee.” Your attention to language is commendable. Thank you!
sarah a,
I have never seen the cherry tree spring explosion you describe. I love pink, which makes the imagery here a dance for my eyes. The line “pink weeping cherry tree” sets the tone, like a prelude for this performance for which I can experience an encore any time i want.
Thank you for hosting, Erica! Your cascade waterfall poem is gorgeous. the first tercet sets up such a rich image that I want to visit and spend some time in your company.
I had my student defend her Master’s Thesis a couple hours ago, so I am still under that pride and joy spell. This is my first cascade poem. I didn’t come up with the title yet.
Calm, confident, composed, she stands by the podium,
with a slight tremble in her voice,
light catching the edge of her notes.
This is your moment, Maggie. Go get them!
Presentation of research—Adolescence in the Bayou,
rooted, resilient, rich with lived knowing,
calm, confident, composed, she stands by the podium.
Queries, questions, conversations ripple across the room,
thoughtful, thorough, steady explanations,
with a slight tremble in her voice.
The room exhales, the moment lingers,
pride resting in the air around,
light catching the edge of her notes.
Congratulations cascade, flowing through the room—
exceptional, eloquent, entirely deserved.
This is your moment, Maggie. Go get them!
This is so sweet, Leilya. I hope you share your poem with Maggie. What an incredible way to commemorate such an important day for her.
Simply gorgeous, Leilya. I love how the narrator encourages this bright student and its clear she excels even with a slight tremble in her voice. You crafted that last line perfectly.
Leilya,
This poem really captures it all — love the support, care that comes through for Maggie. I particualrly like your line for emphasis:
Wonderful narration within the poem.
Leilya,
What a fabulous way to celebrate hard work and study. “This is jour moment” and “go get them” and cascading praise are all apt celebratory phrases.
Erica, I don’t know why but I absolutely love your phrase: “feet pale from months embraced by socks”! Thank you for the prompt today!
Morning Walk
The sidewalk leads me on
pointing toward snow topped peaks
and a clear blue sky streaked with soft clouds,
as I push the stroller with Spring in my steps.
Something fresh and sweet
teases my nose, a glance ahead
catches a flowering apple tree as
the sidewalk leads me on.
Many trees are dawning leaves,
welcoming the finches, robins, and
chickadees, who trill and then swoop –
pointing toward snow topped peaks,
a reminder of brisk days behind and a promise
for thirsty days ahead, but today simply gives:
dewy grass, open blooms, a gentle breeze
and a clear blue sky streaked with soft clouds.
I stretch my senses and bathe in the lush
goodness of this April morning
imaging myself a part of it
as I push the stroller with Spring in my steps.
Rachel, this is gorgeous. I think there is something about this form that works so well with nature and the change of seasons. I love the dewy grass, open blooms, a gentle breeze.
Rachel, I wanted this walk to continue, so I could “stretch my senses and bathe in the lush” alongside you. The blooming apples trees – what a beautiful image. i love each of the cascading lines, but this one is my favorite: “and a clear blue sky streaked with soft clouds.”
Rachel,
I can picture you walking and strolling on this magnificent morning walk. The imagery and sensory details are truly uplifting.
Contentment
my cat sitting in the window
bathed in the sun
I want to be alongside
satisfied and happy
warm and relaxed
my cat sitting in the window
a life without concern
love giving and receiving
bathed in the sun
no enemies can threaten
as I pet come vibrations
I want to be alongside
Ah yes, I am often envious of the level of contentment my cat seems to have!! To nap all day by a sunny window, no concerns in the world. Your last stanza is perfect – those purrs are everything ❤️
Please— let it be so!
Susan, I, too, sometimes want to live my cat’s life. Cats seem to be so content regardless of weather or political climate around. “No enemies can threaten” sounds quite relatable now. Thank you!
Susan,
This is one lucky cat! Yes, the details and scenes you offer the readers whisk us away to a sunny window with so much satisfaction.
This cascade makes me miss my cats! I, too, want to be alongside!
Susan,
As a cat person myself, I love all these purrfect cat images.
An Arizona Cascade
Saguaro, oh how do you grow, oh
reaching higher than the Black Mountains to the sky
clouded like a vanilla swirl.
My parents texted words that meant hello;
thinking of me on their Route 66 drive by
saguaro — oh how do you grow, oh.
I soaked up Arizona when I was a little girl;
with dreams I leak from time to time,
reaching higher than the Black Mountains to the sky.
“You gotta come with us some time!”
When will my dreams no longer be
clouded like a vanilla swirl?
Amber,
Your poem is gorgeous in it’s imagery — a desert and a dessert in one! I could feel your longing to travel and the wistfulness you feel towards the skies of Arizona. It reminds me of how in my own dreams I still recall seeing the vibrant green of Washington state for the first time!
Amber, beautiful! Dreams I leak from time to time is a lovely way of sharing the nostalgia and memories you hold dear.
Amber, I just love this line in your poem: “I soaked up Arizona when I was a little girl” — so much love for the place in a few words. Beautiful!
Amber,
Your poem has me longing for the desert and Arizona. I love all your imagery and dreams wrapped up like a memory to savor.
Amber — This fascinated me. I lived in Tucson for a brief time when I was young in my twenties, and your poem cascaded right through my own memories…sky and mountains and the beloved saguaro. I particularly liked the “dreams I leak from time to time.” Thank you. Susie
“clouded like a vanilla swirl”–the unexpectedness, the imagery, and that ending question. Just perfect!
Erica, what a gorgeous poem you wrote! The exclamation point at the end was perfect and added to the joyful, playful feel of the poem. Lovely sensory detail: I could imagine myself there!
Thank you Wendy!
like a cat – my first cascade poem
sweet sunshine and breeze prepared my bed
nudging me horizontal on the porch couch
with a chorus of cardinals and sparrows agreeing
last I knew, I was writing a poem
sitting in the midst of this beautiful spring
sweet sunshine and breeze prepared my bed
I mused, what cascades in my life right now?
azaleas waved to me in fuchsia and pink
nudging me horizontal on the porch couch
to be caught unawares in a slip of a sleep
is a natural wonder of no longer teaching
with a chorus of cardinals and sparrows agreeing
——–
Erica, so fun to try a new poetry form. Thank you!
I loved, “in a slip of a sleep”! Because it was a nap, so slip is the perfect word. The words slip and sleep challenged my tongue. Smile
Maureen,
I am glad you enjoyed the form. I enjoyed your cozy and soothing imagery — I felt as though I was being lulled into a state of serenity as I read it. The way you utilize the cascade lines work so well.
Maureen, it’s also the first cascade poem for me, so I can relate. You made it seem so easy. personifying in the first line give the poem a gentle human-like touch: “sweet sunshine and breeze prepared my bed”–carries a warm and caring feeling.
I like how you used the word “cascade.” The poem sooths me, and I wish I had a porch couch. Thank you!
Maureen,
A beautiful cascade of imagery and magic for the senses. SO many sweet and poetic lines here.
I love the way your title “like a cat” touches the rest of the poem! “A natural wonder of no longer teaching” – this blissful, freeing, open life sounds great. I’m glad you are taking advantage of the extra time to write!
Erica, thanks for introducing this new form–new to me anyway! And thanks for your poem. It’s a beautiful day here in State College, PA and your poem makes me want to take a walk down to a local creek to hear the sound of the water!
Thank you for your service
I don’t much know my retiring colleague,
We smiled across tables at department meetings,
and I vaguely knew of her work from intermediaries,
and I signed her card when it was passed to me.
I do remember, though, on the day I started,
recently enough that I still don’t know everyone’s name,
she smiled and shook my hand, and that meant so much,
even though I don’t know much of my retiring colleague,
So when the obligatory speech about her work and her impact–
twenty-four years of service and students and research,
resonating out like sonic waves far beyond her initial contact,
I thought of her smile across tables at department meetings,
And how those moments of kindness, so seemingly small,
made those spaces just a little bit warmer, rounding edges,
a kind of care work that seemed to define her, and all that she did
in her work that I knew of vaguely from intermediaries,
So I lingered a moment to say thank you,
reminding her of how she’d made me feel welcome
and smiled at meetings and left a legacy. I felt honored
to sign her card when it was passed to me.
I’ve had a few colleagues who have retired. Your poem brought them to mind again, and my eyes teared.
Dave, this is absolutely lovely. The cascade form adds such a nice echo to your compliments about this colleague.
Dave, it’s lovely how you expressed your admiration for your colleague in this poem. I thought the lines you cascaded had a profound impact because each stanza shows your depth of appreciation growing.
I retired a few years ago. Some of my colleagues overlapped by only a year or two, yet their well-wishes meant a lot. Your poem speaks to how we create and keep feelings of community.
Dave, another great story in a poem! this stanza is especially resonant:
made those spaces just a little bit warmer, rounding edges,
a kind of care work that seemed to define her, and all that she did
in her work that I knew of vaguely from intermediaries.
I see how small acts of kindness have a ripple effect in our lives, so it is so heartwarming to read another example. Thank you for sharing!
Dave, I really appreciate how this poem moves from the opening line to the close where the narrator is honored to sign the card. Your poem resonates with how colleagues can make a deep impact by simply being welcoming, kind and warm. We need more people like the “retiring colleague.” Lovely tribute!
Dave,
What a thoughtful tribute and rendering of kindness and smiles. We all need a dose of this! It must be lovely to have colleagues who are so gracious.
When I first entered academia, I repeated a quote I heard while at Syracuse. I’m don’t remember who said it but it stood out to me. “If you’re getting a doctorate or have a doctorate, the assumption is you should be smart. You distinguish yourself by being kind.” I have said that a few times to colleagues and had my head tore off with cusses and complaints. I’ve always thought, “I rest my case.” And you wrote this case. I love the cascading and read it with intrigue.
Dave — This is really masterfully constructed. I was captivated by the casual relationship progressing (as a cascade does) to genuine respect and thanks. You truly made this form work beautifully. The tone is seamless as it moves from a sort of perfunctory colleague retirement event (“obligatory speech…”) to your making a point of speaking with the colleague and a warmth of “I felt honored” .. totally lovely. Susie
Dave,
I can’t help but think about how care work is almost always left to women as I read your tender poem that speaks truths that make me sad. And I wonder how long you worked w/ this retiring colleague and why you knew so little about her work, ideas that make me think about how in high school faculties we all know the work of the football coach but not say the consumer and health sciences teacher. This is a provocative poem that makes me think.
Like a kid on Christmas morning
Even after the long Christmas Mass
And a delicious Noche Buena meal
A perfect sunny day
Off Polillo Island
Like a kid on Christmas morning
Coral reefs under glass – like water
Colors of pink, blue, purple
Even after the long Christmas Mass
I could not sit still, excitement bubbling
Loving Creator, inspiring gift
And a delicious Noche Buena meal.
Oh, I love these cascade poems! This is gorgeous. Polillo Island must be gorgeous – I am wowed by:
Like Maureen, I too loved the description of the coral reef colors in the third stanza. I also appreciate ending on the meal as that is also my favorite part of most holidays.
The beauty and appeal of the colors and the childlike excitement of Christmas make this such an anticipated moment – – I love how the cascade flows and the presence of water in the reef in a cascade poem!
The colors of the reef and the water surface as glass sounds transfixing. A beautiful gift from the Creator, indeed.
This was a fun challenge, Erica. Thank you!
The Cascading Sneem
By Mo Daley 4/15/26
The Sneem River roils and roils through a tidy town
winding and watering wildflowers galore
a daily dance of nature’s beauty
Alders, willows, and birch welcome tourists
begging intrepid travelers to traverse the paths
the Sneem River roils and roils through a tidy town
Purple loosestrife and meadowsweet abound
on the way to the Garden of the Senses
winding and watering wildflowers galore
A walkable estuary in a sleepy village
that begs to be seen, felt, experienced,
a daily dance of nature’s beauty
This is another wonder cascade poem – I am enthralled by today’s format. Your poem is an ode to the Sneem River – I would love to see this. So much natural beauty in one place…and there is a “garden of the senses” – ahhh!
Oh, this poem makes me want to be in Colorado by the Uncompahgre River. (What a name!) Your words describe it perfectly: walkable estuary, winding and watering wildflowers, roils and a dance through nature. Thanks.
Mo,
You should be in charge of tourism because this poem made me want to visit immediately! I love how you are able to name and acknowledge each type of plant and tree. A gorgeous celebration of the Sneem!
Mo, this poem will be my mentor cascading poem in class, and I just love, love, love the sound of “the Sneem River roils and roils through a tidy town.” This place “begs to be seen, felt, experienced,” just after reading this poem.
Mo, I simply want to be there. The Sneem River comes to life with its winding and watering. Loved “Purple loosestrife and meadowsweet abound” and of course, “a daily dance of nature’s beauty”. I felt completely pulled into this lovely, natural scene.
Mo, I love the way your language sounds like the winding river. The repetition is really good for that too, I think! This is so pretty!
Mo,
A perfect delight of scenary and senses. I am now looking up the Sneem river.. wanting to visit. Gorgeous.
Erica–this is a new form for me–I really liked playing with it. This line is so perfect for this time of year–“With pants rolled up and feet pale from months embraced by socks”, Mine glow in the dark!
How To Begin the Day…
Mornings are best spent in silence–
sweet hot coffee and Wordle await,
a cat purring on your lap.
Begin the day gradually
Cat rumbling, coffeepot murmuring.
Mornings are best spent in silence.
Pull out your calendar,
plan out your day, but don’t be too hasty. Remember,
sweet hot coffee and Wordle await.
The day will be there when you get there.
That is why I always begin with silence, hot coffee, Wordle,
and a cat purring on my lap.
GJSands
4-15-26
Gayle, terrific cascade! I am so totally with you about “Mornings are best spent in silence” – my day goes much smoother when it begins this way.
Gayle, Thank you for the comment and I am glad you enjoyed playing with today’s poetic form. I would say I want to spend the mornings with you — quiet, slow mornings are my favorite!
I love this gentle reminder, Gayle. I also love how you used “Remember'” to usher in your next line.
Gayle, this sounds like a perfect start to the morning! Count me in for wordle and sweet hot coffee!
Thank you, Erica, for introducing us to the cascade. I love it. I was in my head today and wasn’t able to think in terms of nature, unfortunately.
For Everyone But Me
A When it comes to crises, I can rise like no other,
B but when things go on with me, I catastrophize like crazy.
C Why can I show up for everyone else but not for myself?
a If something happens with our kids–
b something huge interrupts their expected life flow–
A when it comes to crises, I can rise like no other.
c When I get an injury or a rash or a strange symptom,
d my loved ones tell me to relax, that it’ll all be okay.
B But when things go on with ME, I catastrophize like crazy
e When I’m needed, my breathing slows and I see things with clarity,
f and I know just what to say and what to do.
C Why can I show up for everyone else but not for myself?
~Susan Ahlbrand
15 April 2026
Susan, I admire the introspection here! Wow, what a fascinating cascade. I hope that the beautiful repetition of those opening lines reveals how essential it is to be kinder with yourself. Love this!
I am glad you were able to make the form serve your needs. I was hit particularly by your final line — the repeating question of “Why can I show up for everyone else but not for myself? hits hard and is something I struggle with myself!
I’m right there with you – it’s hard to show up for ourselves! I hope you can find some inner strength and peace. ❤️ Beautifully written cascade.
Susan, the answer to your question may be the GOLDEN RULE…you do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Add, do unto me, so I can be ready to do unto others. Self care is important too. Okay?
Erica, though I’m not currently teaching in the classroom, I still feel this for my colleagues who are and feel this way.. The cascade format is a new format for me. I found it challenging to retain what folks expect of me (rhyming) and to do what you asked of us. But ain’t that what kids go through, too?
The Weight of Waiting
Dealing with the weight of waiting
As students prepare for that exam
Knowing how they do shows what I am.
Which student needs encouragement
To do their best and then take a rest.
Dealing with the weight of waiting
Stand up, sweetie! No heads bent
Unless you’re praying, Please listen to what I’m saying.
As students prepare for that exam
You’ve learned a lot
And one exam doesn’t show all you know.
Smile for me now, let me see your smile glow.
Knowing how they do shows what I am!
So, I’m also one taking the exam!
“The weight of waiting”. A perfect poem for this time of year. I do NOT miss testing season!
“Unless you’re praying, Please listen to what I’m saying.” – This made me smile so! This poem illustrates how supportive and caring you are with students, how you encourage them to be confident about doing their best.
Erica, thank you for this new-to-me form.
Dogwood blossoms herald spring.
Brilliant blue sky background –
Nature’s wallpaper brightens the day.
After a long, lingering winter
The world needs hope.
Dogwood blossoms herald spring.
Spending time in nature
Brings peace to mind and soul
Brilliant blue sky background
When hearts are heavy
Let the outdoors in
Nature’s wallpaper brightens the day.
Rita,
Beautiful. Nature is my balm of choice so your poem resonates.
I like the playfulness of “nature’s wallpaper.”
For me, today is one that needs a world of hope. I agree that spending time in nature lightens the heart. I love blossoms against the brilliant blue sky.
Being out in nature does so much to brighten our days, bring hope and peace- your poem is an invitation to make nature part of our days.
Rita, you wrote a beautiful poem about nature heralding spring. There are lovely images in your poem with emotions to match, peace and hope. Maybe you would like to accept my invitation to add your poem with a photo for my Spring Seeds Gracing April Gallery and Padlet.
.
He drifts beneath a sky that will not let him hide,
His hat pulled low against a truth he can’t outpace,
At twenty-six, he feels something has already died,
Though nothing yet has left a mark upon his face.
A fleeting touch, a missing thing he thought he knew,
a watch misplaced, a life that will not stay in line,
He shrugs it off like there is nothing he can do,
while small omissions grow and tangle over time.
He drifts beneath a sky that will not let him hide,
Once, there were woods and laughter spilling without end,
and songs that made the ordinary feel alive,
he stood beside them, brother, sister, almost friend,
but never learned the way their simple joy survived.
His hat pulled low against a truth he can’t outpace,
The earth receives a name he cannot say out loud.
The wind erases what he thought he understood.
He joins the living, but not fully with the crowd,
Still searching for a pulse that proves he ever could.
At twenty-six, he feels something has already died
A voice appears where silence should have held its ground,
It speaks of grace he never thought he would receive,
He listens hard, afraid to trust the fragile sound,
Suspended there between believing and belief.
Though nothing yet has left a mark upon his face.
He walks and feels the sun like something slightly wrong,
A heat that finds the places he would rather hide,
He counts his losses though they haven’t lasted long,
and wears them quietly like something sewn inside.
He drifts beneath a sky that will not let him hide,
A brush, a pause, a pocket suddenly unsure,
The small misplacements echo louder than they should.
He tells himself that everything is still secure,
While doubt expands in ways he never understood.
His hat pulled low against a truth he can’t outpace,
He sees them still—two figures lit by borrowed song.
A reckless joy he never learned to imitate,
He stood among them, knowing he did not belong,
and let that distance quietly accumulate.
At twenty-six, he feels something has already died,
The ground gives way to what he cannot bring to speech.
The gray horizon stretches out and will not end,
He feels that life is something just beyond his reach,
A word half-known, a shape he cannot comprehend.
Though nothing yet has left a mark upon his face.
Then through the noise, a voice returns both clear and near.
It offers love untouched by time or what went wrong.
He freezes there, suspended somewhere between fear,
and something like the place where he might still belong
He drifts beneath a sky that will not let him hide
I am so glad this young man found hope in the final stanza…beautiful!
Luke, your poem is haunting and almost has a noir quality about it. I found myself holding my breath to see what was going to happen.
I feel the presence of purgatory in your writing. A very cool, lucid interpretation of a young man’s dream. Unfortunately the fairness is always between- even as we age. You have a unique style and I love the secrets in your verses.
very cool
Luke,
Elements of reflection, regret, philosophy of life with such a sequenced narration, gorgeous!
Waterfall Cave
Darting flies of a writer’s thunder,
Writing sunder, from beneath the under,
Under spilt ale of a pale- pail’s writer’s wonder,
I failed, and fell into a poetic blunder.
Smirking at my droll,
underwriting what I am told,
Under the fall, I became a scroller’s troll.
Darting flies of a writer’s sole, soul.
Blue, clear, blurry falls,
Flint cut- rhymes on the walls,
Pounding stones, Cawing calls,
Darting flies of a writer’s stall.
Locked beneath showering powers,
Etching sketches devours hours,
In the cave beneath towering showers,
Darting flies of a writer’s cower.
No escape from behind,
In the cascade, some will find,
Glory stories of my mind,
Darting flies of a writer’s design.
As I roll into an ogre of my own,
Maybe my words will be known,
That I engraved into the stone,
Darting flies beside writer’s throne.
Or shall I pass, behind liquid glass,
For my rhymes will surely, outlast,
the grace of my ghastly, aghast,
Darting flies of a writer’s past.
Only bones left overneath,
soaked skull and sunder teeth,
a pale pail hangs as a wreath,
Darting flies of a writer’s seethe.
Scratched verses below river,
obscured by falling shivers,
Death of a giver’s giver,
Darting arrows in the writer’s quiver.
Storms form in the west,
Random hiker finds his nest,
He cannot escape, so he rest,
Darting flies he becomes obsessed.
Takes a stone from the bone,
begins to write all alone,
Designs a poem of his own,
Darting flies of a writer’s unknown.
Boxer–wow! I love your play of words on the cascade form, but I really love this line–
Under spilt ale of a pale- pail’s writer’s wonder,
I failed, and fell into a poetic blunder.
I have fallen into so many blunders in my life…poetic and otherwise!
I like the form and the way each stanza weaves inside itself in melodious rhyme, assonance and alliteration. Nice work!
Wailele is water that leaps
and a cascade is water that falls;
Clumsy, brave, awkward, graceful.
When it rains on Kaua’i, Makaleha is riven,
greens cut through by torrents of white.
Wailele is water that leaps.
Rain in the PNW settles and stumbles
once it is rivers, laughing, because
a cascade is water that falls.
Is the rain leaping, tripping, falling
from the mountains of the sky?
Clumsy, brave, awkward. Grace filled.
Jonathan,
Your poem fills me with the joy. Thank you!
I like how you made your last line in to a variation of your earlier line.
I was immediately tickled by the playful juxtaposition of “Wailele is water that leaps/anda cascade is water that falls.” So many variations and ways to describe water! I had fun reading this cascade poem. Thank you Jonathon.
Oh this is beautiful! I love the comparison – and I don’t think there could be a more perfect topic for a cascade poem. I especially love your last stanza – “mountains of the sky” and “graceful” switching to “grace filled.”
I think is pretty close to being a cascade. It was fun to create. Thanks for the prompt.
Spring brings new life
The thrill of early spring grows green and lush
Birds sing their songs,
New growth bursts forth in its full glory,
Signs of life are everywhere.
Robin’s voices trill through the air
Filling the silence with song
Sweet choirs take wing.
Birds sing their songs.
My heart has been tilled
Old, dead ideas plowed under.
New, fresh ideas are planted and nurtured.
Soon pushing new stems
Through the fresh soil.
New growth bursts forth in its full glory.
I dread the thought of mowing
That lush green grass,
Holding hideouts for rabbits, mice and more.
Signs of life are everywhere.
-Carrie Horn
4-15-26
Carrie–love this spring poem. This allusion is so very good:
“My heart has been tilled
Old, dead ideas plowed under.”
This spring growth seems like your own time of regrowth, Carrie. I really like the line, “My heart has been tilled.”
Carrie, I really appreciate the way this poem opens with the thrill of spring and all the green and birds it offers and then shifts to the personal side with “My heart has been tilled”. What a fascinating metaphor. “Signs of life are everywhere” offers such layers of thought. Very compelling poem!
I’m going to try this form to capture some images from yesterday’s hailstorm and post-storm dog walk.
I came home yesterday to a happy but somewhat frantic dog.
Mommy was gone during the hailstorm and the basement door was shut.
“C’mon, buddy, let’s go for a walk while it’s calm.”
My normally happy boy wasn’t so sure he wanted to go out,
What if storms came up again?
I came home yesterday to a happy but somewhat frantic dog.
As we passed a muddy corner, two little girls were stomping in rain boots,
And my dog decided he needed to kiss them. Maybe things weren’t so bad, even though
Mommy was gone during the hailstorm and the basement door was shut.
Lots of giggles, little hands patting, happy tail wagging.
Mom and Dad looked at the mess and said, “Let’s get the most out of bath time.”
“C’mon, buddy, let’s go for a walk while it’s calm.”
What a wonderful cascade of a moment with your dog! I love the concrete details and everyday specificity of this.
Sheila, I really had to try hard not to write about my two new dogs again, so I’m glad you wrote about yours. Terrific details!
Write about the doggies!
Hahaha this is pure joy. I love the rain boots & puddles & your dog joining in. Never really calm with these high energy friends, right??
In the distance is a
Crossing, that wasn’t
There before so we
Swam to a country
Freer than thee
Cause we was brought here
across the water now
that’s how we gotta go for freedom
so
in the distance is a
statue that marks the past
forcing us to remember
how those before us were
Crossing, that wasn’t
in celebration but
a different type of freedom,
the kind that wasn’t
there before so we
had to travel by foot
sometimes by train but
usually walkin so our future is
freer than thee
Lyric,
Thank you for this beautiful ode to migrating towards freedom and remembering those who came before us.
Lyric, Sharon said exactly what I wanted to say. This is a wonderful tribute to those who came before.
So much movement here in the crossings. This form works well to create that echo of past and present, near and far, free and freer. Wow.
I tried to delete this can’t figure out how. I did a rewrite and reposted.
Spring Brings New Life
The thrill of early spring
And the green and lushness showing it’s face,
Signs of life are everywhere.
Robin’s voices trill through the air
Filling the silence with song
Sweet choirs take wing.
My heart has been tilled
Old, dead ideas plowed under.
New, fresh ideas are planted and nurtured.
Soon their pushing new stems
Through the fresh soil.
I dread the thought of mowing
That lush green grass,
Holding hideouts for rabbits, mice and more.
Signs of life are everywhere.
-Carrie Horn
4-15-26
I love the image of hearts being tilled and fresh, ready for new growth.
Oh, thanks for sharing the new poem form, prompt, and poem, Erica! Your imagery is so good and I love the exclamation added at the end!
Breast Milk Cascade
an admirable buttercream color
let down a morning light stream
of condensed milk glory
enough comparing with overproducers
may my breasts create their own milkfall
an admirable buttercream color
they can’t yet sustain my babe
but hopefully soon they will
let down a morning light stream
so he can be nourished,
they will make what they can
of condensed milk glory
Angie,
I love the buttercream color, the mother’s love, the nurturance that’s amplified within your poem. How lovely that you’ve captured this moment in time.
This is beautiful Angie! I love your descriptions and the changing relationship with the phrase condensed milk glory. I also love your reckoning with the overproducers and the patience you have for your own milkfall..such a tender poem!
What a beautiful cascade. I particularly enjoy the way your poem does focus on liquid motion and the repeated phrases are so lovely. “condensed milk glory..” perfect!
Angie,
I’m not sure I have ever read a poem celebrating and giving praise to breast milk and I appreciate that you took the form of the cascade to do it — how fitting! I loved the use of colors and the phrase “milkfall” as part of your poem too. Definitely an ode I am happy to see out there.
Angie, what an ode to motherhood…cascading milk. I have a story about milk coming in but I will save it for another time. The word choices here – buttercream color, morning light, milkfall, sustain, nourished, glory – are all a magnificent testament to this natural provision.
Angie,
I love everything about your poem and am over here in my old lady skin celebrating “let down like a milky white stream.” Perfect poem for a cascade form. BTW: I wrote about HRT last month for the Slice of Life challenge.
Thank you for the prompt–not about nature but about writing on a Wednesday when everything seems heavy and hard.
Writing on Wednesday
I sit with a line that won’t come easy,
the right word caught somewhere between breath and bone,
and still I trust the language to find me.
I lean on the table, slow scratch of pen,
crossing out more than I keep,
I sit with a line that won’t come easy.
Some days the page just stares me down,
every word feeling wrong in my mouth,
the right word caught somewhere between breath and bone.
I read it back, feel something shift,
a soft kind of sigh I didn’t plan,
and still I trust the language to find me.
Ughhh, even though you are writing about a difficulty of writing, what you have created is so good. I’ve felt all of this many times. Thanks for expressing it so well!
Melanie,
So much feelings and emotions all wrapped up in this insightful poem. Appreciate the beauty of tehse lines in particular:
Gorgeous.
I can feel this. Knowing deep inside me there’s a writer’s heart, holding verses when the words won’t flow. I know it’s there. Just buried. SO buried. Some days are heavier than others and some days writing relieves my soul. Some days trying to write compounds my heaviness.
And yet it LOOKS so easy when I read your final product . . . this is genius.
Melanie–you may have struggled, but it was so worth it. I especially love this line–
“the right word caught somewhere between breath and bone”…and your trust in the language. I think it found you!
Erica, Cascade is one of my favorite poetry forms to write. I was excited to see that in your title. Then you asked us to write about nature. This prompt is so much my jam! Thank you.
The Quiet Signal
Green shoots rise above
ground of leaf crumble brown
broadcasting vitality’s return.
Temperatures rise, ground warms
robust but tender
green shoots rise above
Jeweled dewdrops on sky-stretching leaves
glide downwards satiating the
ground of leaf crumble brown.
Organized clusters of green and yellow
highlight the garden path
broadcasting vitality’s return.
Your line–“broadcasting vitality’s return,” is such a fantastic spring description. I also appreciate the picture of these tender reminders of life! Thank you for sharing today.
Ooh! I absolutely love “Jeweled dewdrops on sky-stretching leaves”– what a goregous image!
This poem form really is your jam! Terrific title. I love the line “ground of lead crumble brown,” it’s a perfect description.
So much creative language here! Your word choice was on point. “Broadcasting,” “robust,” “jeweled,” “satiating,” “vitality.” What a beautiful poem for such a tiny thing! Oh, and the title!! Very nicely done.
Today started heavy, so I brought it here. Still thinking of an appropriate title.
I’m ever so tired.
We are being held hostage.
Invoke the 25th amendment already.
I wake up to an email from a friend
whose friend lost his court case
and now will be deported.
I reply that my student is still detained
with an attorney who isn’t so helpful.
I’m ever so tired.
Every day brings new trauma:
threats of wiping out whole civilizations
skyrocketing prices
immigrants dying in detention
We are being held hostage.
This week brought a social media posting marathon
an AI-generated “doctor” Jesus
and an online feud with the Pope.
Invoke the 25th amendment already.
Your 1st stanza echoes my thoughts as well. Each day is difficult when the world is so heavy. May expressing your worries/thoughts in this creative manner be a way for you to cope with all that is going on and give voice to the horrible reality of our time.
Oof. That first stanza. The repeated lines–I am tired, we are held hostage. They hit with such weight.
Cheri, thank you for writing with us today even with this ongoing heaviness. It seems each day this month some of us have written on this topic. Maybe a chapbook of poetic protest is needed–would this change anything? I am sorry to hear about your student, friend, and send empathetic vibes across this channel.
Cheri,
I am nodding my head… and feeling a sense of despair too. Thank you for capturing these historic and horrific moments as a memorandum — appreciate your opening stanza
as a way of getting the readers to appreciate the heaviness of all this…
Agree. It’s so heavy. This being held hostage situation. Enough already. Dear America, please please please wake up! Your poem hits me hard and it’s eloquent and yet so relatable, even quotable. “Invoke the 25th amendment already.”
I’m ever so tired.
We are being held hostage.
Invoke the 25th Amendment already.
YES!!!!! You echo my thoughts exactly!
Thank you for this opportunity! This poem is inspired by a study abroad that me and my wife went on last summer. I wish I could be back there!
Prague
Small roads and few cars
Filled the web of unplanned sprawl
Centuries and decades,
History and wars,
Culture and change,
The average age of a house in Prague.
Green grass and cloudy weather
Cold drops at random measure
National scents I’d call them–
Beer, Bread, and Kofola
With a little schnitzel to save the day.
What I would do to be back in Prague.
Those words “national scents” made me pause and wonder about the scents I would think about for this country as well as other ones I have visited. Your two words are a great writing prompt. Also love that a little schnitzel can save the day!
There is something in the air in Prague–the smell of centuries of cooking with the same spicies, the scent of flowers and stone, and the spice of clean air and teas and coffees. This poem brought back such a wave of memories! I love the descriptive lines and the lovely pairings–centuries and decades, culture and change…lovely.
Gavriel,
Thank you for this trip to Prague. I have not yet been, but have heard many wonderful stories from my mentor whose family emigrated from there. Your poem brought me to her homeland. Thank you!
Fantastic imagery:
I think all of us can relate to a place we love so much that we just want to go back. You’ve captured yours here.
Thank you for hosting today, Erica! I could picture your waterfall, the “fresh water flickering across the stair-stepped stones.” (Lovely!) I’ve never tried a cascade poem, but here goes.
Wolf Run
Through our suburban neighborhood,
the creek, Wolf Run, ripples and winds,
welcoming waders, watchers, and wanderers.
Years ago, our son, ten then,
bare feet on slick rocks, chased silver minnows
through our suburban neighborhood.
One rainy day, a coyote, fur gray as drizzle,
stood by the bank, near a groundhog’s hole, watching
the creek, Wolf run, ripple and wind.
On long creek walks, past bench and bridge,
we see a blue heron, staring with one keen eye; he dips his beak,
welcoming waders, watchers, and wanderers.
Such vivid imagery in your 1st Cascade. I enjoyed the use of alliteration in your last line- welcoming waders, watchers and wanderers. Not often do you see alliteration with a w.
What a neat image of nature and a little bit of country in your suburban neighborhood. Thank you for sharing. I enjoyed reading about your waders, watchers, and wanderers.
This is really beautiful. I love how you started with that suburban sprawl feel and then pulled everything back to nature gently finding its way through.
This is an epic picture of a place. I love the image of the silver minnows, the coyote, the waders and watchers…
This is beautiful and peaceful, and I can visualize that creek with all its miracles.
What a fun form to play with! It reminded me of the villanelle, but a bit more free. When you mentioned nature, I thought of the perfect picture. This little guy was waiting for me when I pulled up into my driveway yesterday.
Open-Air Gallery
Fragile wings spread wide,
a sentient being turned work of art
fragrant backdrop makes senses explode
Spring sneaks up, surprising
swallowtail lives briefly with wild abandon
fragile wings spread wide
Beautiful creature takes no notice
as the moment was quickly captured
a sentient being turned work of art
Oh, the sheer joy of Spring!
Extravagant beauty forces one to focus
Fragrant backdrop makes senses explode
Full of Spring beauty!
Oh my! Your cascade poem draws me directly into a celebration of spring! The picture provided perfect inspiration.
Even without the picture, I could imagine what you were describing. I find that “extravagant beauty” causes me to focus, too. Lovely!
Gorgeous poem and photo. All the senses are ignited with your poetics, a beautiful gift.Thank you!
Beautiful photo! What a gift for you to see the beautiful swallowtail. I loved your words to describe this butterfly- a sentient being turned work of art. Beautiful words!
I love swallowtails and have “hatched” a few of them here in central Kansas. Mostly black swallowtails.
Thank you, Erica, for this new-to-me form which was the one I needed this morning.
I love your lush alliteration which gives a sense of play.
————————————————————-
A Loss that Echoes
grieving the loss of my Aunt Mary
a loss that echoes
I seek solace at the springs
I wake to a strange-colored sky, an uncomfortable pink
that’s right, I nod
grieving the loss of my Aunt Mary
I retrace the edges of my Mom’s death
so strange not to talk to her of
a loss that echoes
I watch the light on the green water
I remember Aunt Mary’s big throaty laugh
I seek solace at the springs
———————————————
Poem and photos of the springs this morning at my blog, Pedaling Poet
May you continue to find solace. Especially as another loss echoes into the loss of your mother…
I feel the pain and see the beauty in your poem–a “loss that echoes” is a poignant way to express grief.
Sharon, I’m so sorry for your loss. This poem captures your grief tenderly. “I retrace the edges of Mom’s death/so strange not to talk to her of/a loss that echoes” – powerful words spoken softly.
Sharon,
I am sorry for your loss. This poem exudes life’s rhythms — the echoes, the grief, the search for solace. There is a peaceful quality emanating.
“I retrace the edges of my Mom’s death” is such a rich and powerful line. I had to pause and sit with it a while. There is so much much in lines that make us pause, don’t you think? This poem and the weight of loss and grief that echo through it is so touching. I feel the connection in the lines and seeking solace in the springs.
Sheesh, that third stanza and the strangeness of not being able to talk to her echoing. I’m sorry for your losses. The repetition of your lines works so well!
This hurts my heart, A powerful and beautiful poem…
I retrace the edges of my Mom’s death
so strange not to talk to her of
a loss that echoes
There’s something about all of those ‘s’ sounds in the first stanza, especially “I seek solace at the springs.” And the springs sound like a wonderful place to find some peace.
Oh, Sharon, I am so sorry for your loss. Just a few days ago, you shared about her transition to hospice. May her soul rests, and yours find comfort in kind memories. Let spring keep holding you in soft embrace. Sending love and hugs 🤗💙
Disappointment
Snow covers the ground
Daffodils and tulips wear white winter shawls
An unwanted gift in April
Blue skies hide behind gray clouds
Green trees snap under winter’s grasp
Snow covers the ground
Offended, birds mute their voices
Confused butterflies seek refuge
Daffodils and tulips wear white winter shawls
No snow fell in December
Nature is trying to catch up, but snow is
An unwanted gift in April
Melissa this is lovely such a natural repetion to capture an unwanted gift in April. I love the line – offended birds mute their voices- exquisite imagery!
We often get that unwanted gift of snow that comes after the spring flowers have bloomed … your poem captures it so well.
I’ll never forget when it snowed one year on spring break in Kentucky. I was a teenager, but the strange snow-covered spring popped right back in my mind after reading your poem. Your stanzas, bursting with imagery, reminded me of that snowfall. I love “offended, birds mute their voices.”
Melissa,
Your poem is making me think of all the things that are beautiful while there are so many issues that feel “wrong”, “off” like snow in April. Climate change seems to be a new reality..
I do love how you hide the blue skies behind the gray clouds. The imagery and metaphors are delicate and timely within the poem.
Thanks for a new form of poetry to try.
Yesterday some storms passed through in the early evening. My usually unsentimental daughter sent me a video from her side of town. In the text exchange that ensued, she admitted she cried at the sight she had shared. Perfect set up for today’s poem.
Unexpected Wonder
An apartment complex is not normally scenic
But a quick spring storm left behind a rainbow
And the beauty made her cry
The clouds were heavy, dark and low
Thunder rolled and then rain poured down in sheets
An apartment complex is not normally scenic
The rain cleansed the air and sunlight leaked through the clouds
Crystal pools of water gathered on sidewalks and asphalt
And the quick spring storm left behind a rainbow
The huge arc brightened the gray sky from one end to the other
Bands of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet all clear
And the beauty made her cry
See photos here
Diane,
I lived in apartments for several years and could clearly visualize the image you were describing. I especially enjoyed that you used “and the beauty made her cry” as the final line of the poem — as it expanded on the beauty she was taken in and reiterated just why it had that kind of impact on her. Thank you for sharing his moment in the form of a poem.
Diane! This is a beautiful cascade of color and emotion. I’m so glad you shared it today.
What a sweet cascade!! And I love the title: “Unexpected Wonder.” I hope you share this with your daughter – I love how poems can cement moments like these. ❤️
omg Erica, I’ve never heard of this, and I so admire the exclamation that recurs in your example. A boy of the city, I find myself reveling in sensory nature-focused / centered poetry like yours — I really felt it (“slime coated cove”!). So a memory of water came to mind for me. And a memory of mind, in a way. I post things I write here. My offering today is another attempt at messing with Alexandrines.
“A Satisfied Mind” (a true story)
Tried meditation once — I can’t remember why,
but with something like faith, I gave it a try. Once.
Assumed the position — mental antennae up.
Worries rushed in the void, chimeras I knew well.
I asked the guy for help. (The center had a staff.)
A trying meditation this was. Members nearby
enjoyed their private Zen, untroubled by me. “New guy,”
they might have been thinking. Except they weren’t. With
something like faith I lacked, they ignored my dry run.
“Waterfall river lake,” he told me, then walked off.
Now I had a mantra. So when life gets dry, loud,
assume the position, mental antennae up.
Joel,
I appreciated the vulnerability shared in this poem — especially with a line like “assumed the position” which clearly indicates that meditation is NOT a comfortable practice for you. I also loved the contrast of the mantra, “waterfall river lake” with the line “when life gets dry, loud…” as that made me smile.
Oooooooh Joel!
This is fabulous!
These lines made me laugh,
I might have to try this mantra!
Thank you!
Erica, thanks for hosting today and for introducing me to a new poetic form. The images in your poem are lovely fresh water flickering across stair-stepped stones— I love that line and the joyful scene you’ve created. Thank you again for hosting!
The Lost Thought
a plip a plop a plip plop plip
slow at first and drop by drop
from the silver faucet fell
so deep in thought I barely heard
what was it that I thought about?
a plip a plop a plip plop plip
a dream? a plan? a misspoke word?
something that I may have heard?
slow at first and drop by drop—
a sudden sound— a maddening knell
a plip, a plop that would not stop
from the silver faucet fell.
Ann, I am not near as brave as you are with sound. What a pleasure to see how that onomatopoeia flourished & recurred, and how you leveraged rhyme to enhance the work. The rhyme recreates the happenings of the mind, right? How sometimes successive unbidden thoughts will align / harmonize / make sense together. Keep that faucet running!
Ann, your onomatopoeia works well on repetition, and the other words that flop into your stanzas bring life to each stanza. Thank you for sharing today.
I love the staccato rhythm of your poem with all of your short, sharp-sounding words.
Ooooh this is awesome! I love the way you paint this moment we’ve all experienced – trying to remember a thought that has slipped away, and then the sudden rush when it comes! And yes, the onomatopoeias work SO well, as does this form, for your poem!! Well done.
Ann, your poem today has a marvelous sound effect with all the plipping and plopping. Also love the sound of “from the silver faucet fell” consonance with /s/ and alliteration with /f/ make this line strikingly attractive to me.
Ann,
This is a fun onomatopoeic poem about an annoying sound, but in the poet’s hands it becomes a celebratory dance.
Erica, this was not as easy as it first seemed. I took a nod from you and wrote to an image. I post an image and poem each Wednesday on my blog here: http://reflectionsontheteche.com/2026/04/15/this-photo-wants-to-be-a-poem-bayou-ducklings/
Muscovy Ducklings Play
Scrambling fluffs navigate water hyacinth
staying in sight of mother duck—
gymnasts in a bayou playground.
We slowly push along stroke by stroke
keeping watch for new spring life, see
scrambling fluffs navigate water hyacinth.
Whose waters are these, I think I know:
these tiny ducklings move so quick
staying in sight of mother duck.
This journey we share is not all ease.
Time and patience required, we are all
gymnasts in a bayou playground.
Margaret Simon, draft
Thanks, Margaret, for this family and for that tip of the hat to Frost! The gymnastics imagery awakens so much for me — strength, dance, proportion, youth, diligence, etc. — that I wouldn’t have expected for this setting & this subject. LOVED this : )
Awww. I love that last line and a half…”we are all… gymnasts in a bayou playground.” I always love when we can connect our humanness with the world around us and the examples Mather nature gives us.
Margaret–this feels like a children’s book! “Gymnasts in a bayou playground”–I can see them!
The fluffs scrambling thrill my soul. I loved watching these littles on jump day! Gymnasts in a bayou playground, I’m sure, must scramble fast to avoid predators…..I can sure understand what you mean by “not all ease.” Delightful to imagine how they play and swim .
Erica, that’s pretty neat! I love the thinking within the thinking of a cascade poem. Thanks for that. And, congrats on the publication cred. Well done! I’ll be poking at words today and maybe post something later. For now, I”m enjoying the process.
I’m always thankful, Erica, to learn a new poetic form and am delighted to see how the formalities actually tighten language, structuring new possibilities for repetition and word play. I love the alliteration in “stair-stepped stones” (all you alliterations). Beautiful to read your words and so appreciate the Wednesday challenge. I went with the 4-line challenge and reflected on a writing event I co-hosted at the Lordship House in southern Connecticut yesterday, where Dr. Karen Karbiener, of The Walt Whitman Initiative, shared her knowledge with CWP, writers, local politicians, and teachers. What a stunning location.
With Karen Karbiener (A Cascade Poem)
b.r.crandall, April 14, 2026
Many came together to write & to learn
the fluidity of Calamus plants & Walt Whitman,
keeping 12 poems on paper (a couplet missing) &
looking at the same Long Island Sound. Who are
any of us to feel leaves of grass on bare feet?
Long tails ducking in & out of water,
while northern pins finish migrating north.
Many came together to write & to learn…
to read beauty along the shoreline like he did in New Orleans.
Does he see himself reflected in me? In the hours,
does he see the faces of his hours reflected?
Calamus 9 planted on page with fluidity. Whitman
heard death in the rocking waves. We centered life, the climate,
a coast, & local marine life along the shores of Connecticut –
Lordship House (where Jackie Robinson once stopped by).
12 words on paper kept for a poem, thankful to the couple
opening their home for us to write. Michael & Adrienne.
Such weather. Alisha’s chocolate salami, baked parmesan,
focaccia, fruit, rose-twirled salami, & whipped feta dip.
Looking at the Long Island Sound…together is who we were.
I’m so glad to see you play a little with the repetitions — such shrewd rearrangements. I love also how the italics shift tone and how you populate the poem with so many people, so many poets, so many images. Whitman might call it a multitudinous poem 🙂
I also like the changes in your “repeated” lines. Especially from “looking at the same Long Island Sound. Who are” to “together is who we were”. WOW 🙂
Retirement?
They offered us a buyout
but it wasn’t very much
still some teachers took it.
It was even offered to staff
with only 15 years experience;
they offered us a buyout
but to those with over 30 years,
It felt a bit insulting
because it wasn’t very much.
They came up with a number
that was the lowest that they could
and still some teachers took it.
_________________________________________________
Thank you, Erica, for your mentor poem – and its wonderful alliteration throughout – and your prompt today! And thank you for introducing me to this form. For my offering, I spent a little bit of time thinking about “the buyout” that my school district offered earlier this month. Now, granted, I’m not ready to go yet, so it was easy to say no, but it also means that they won’t be offering another one (a better one for more veteran teachers) for a while (if at all), so there’s that.
I’m getting close to year 30. I felt a lot of emotions while reading your poem: anger, frustration, worry. I wish teachers were valued more. Thanks for sharing your poem.
Scott, I’m so sorry to hear about this experience that you faced, but I loved getting to read your piece and learn about your love for teaching. I hope you find more comfort in the joy of teaching and also gain recognition for that joy!
Scott, I’m glad you didn’t take the bait, especially if the amount was low, but I’m curious about this buyout idea when there seems to be a teacher shortage.
Scott–your poem reminds me of the one I chose not to take. (There was never another…)
Scott,
This makes me so sad:
Erika, thank you for hosting today. This form had my brain working more than it was ready for this morning. Describing waterfalls in your cascade provides a perfect setting for this form.
Hazdistazí: Lower Antelope Canyon
Navajo Nation snakes us through a slot
canyon, of burnt oranges, cascading hues
we are guests on a sacred land, respect
edges stencil out images, faces, animals
like the picture clouds we view from grass naps
Navajo Nation snakes us through a slot
floods spiral destruction, beautify the lines
wind flies out amber, coral, yam granules
canyon, of burnt oranges, cascading hues
take what you brought, including your spirit
responsible beauty, exploring–breathe it in
we are guests on a sacred land, respect
I love the way (c) we are guests on sacred land, respect, goes full circle as it cascades readers through Antelope Canyon….also waking up to the love of a grass nap. Thank you for letting us be you guest readers this morning.
Stefani, It may have been a workout for you, but I’m glad you took it up! This poem’s imagery and use of color is simply gorgeous. I didn’t think about how canyon walls can also cascade in their color as rocks stack upon rocks! I think my favorite is the move from stanza 1 to stanza 2 with “respect/edges stencil out images” and “through a slot/floods spiral destruction.”
Oooooooh Stefani,
This is so beautiful. I feel like I am right there with you in awe of this sacred land.
Your cascading lines flow so well.
Stefani, I love the rhyme and rhythm that you’ve crafted throughout your Cascade. Take a listen to that third stanza: “floods spiral destruction, beautify the lines / wind flies out amber, coral, yam, granules / canyon, of burnt oranges, cascading hues.” Those C’s and G’s and S’s? Gorgeous!
Erika, thank you for leading us to the cascade! Your poem took me to the carefree days of summer and made me want to go to one of my favorite places in north Georgia, where there are many waterfalls. I’d love to spend the day splashing around.
Let’s Play
I did not want to get up today
I’d like to sip coffee with friends in a cafe
talk books, catch up, paint daffodils, play
I’d drive to Ball Ground
stroll Gibbs Gardens’ spring blooms
I did not want to get up today
the tulips have opened, Monet’s pond awaits
I’d load up the girls for a quick getaway
I’d like to sip coffee with friends in a cafe
we’d laugh and share stories
take off work for the day
get a slow start, talk books, paint daffodils, play
Kim,
Considering I didn’t want to get up today, your poem really resonated with me. I, too, am ready for summer fun!
Please pick me up on your way! You have so much to look forward to in retirement. The slow start of a morning is my favorite part.
For us, it’s only 30 school days left! Free-er days coming soon.
Ahhhh, I want to be there with you! You’ve really captured a rhythm here and I love the title. Everything sounds like perfect fun!
Kim – this sounds like a perfect day and I would love to be sipping coffee in that cafe with you! I have not wanted to get up several days of late…longing for carefree summer, indeed. You weave your lines so well.
Kim,
I can see you cocooned under the covers telling Briar,” I don’t want to get up today.” I love a the ways you’d spend your day given a chance to skip school.
Cascade Poem: Sacsayhuamán
We walked uphill while the river let us pass,
hearts quickening against unfamiliar air,
stones rising past the measure of our reach.
Men paused mid-swing, straw hats tipped toward rain,
grass falling back to show the buried path
we walked uphill while the river let us pass.
Touching hands high, we photograph our awe,
our foreign hands made small against the stone,
hearts quickening against unfamiliar air.
What bodies hauled these stones we strain to name?
Who cut this path so We could stand and see
stones rising past the measure of our reach?
Note: Sacsayhuamán is an Inca site above Cusco, built in the 15th century. Some stones weigh over 100 tons and were quarried elsewhere and hauled up the same steep hills by teams of people using ropes, ramps, and sheer coordination. The stones fit together with extraordinary precision, without mortar, and scholars still debate exactly how this was achieved. The site’s purpose—ceremonial, defensive, or both—remains uncertain, but the presence of human labor on an immense scale is undeniable.
Sarah, “awe” is definitely the word for such a sight…of such a site. The immensity of the task, whatever the purpose, is profound. I note the feeling of smallness with hands against the stone and am reminded that “awe” is the realization of being part of something bigger than yourself. Time, history..so many things. Captivating poem and wonderful photo!
Sarah, what a great photo you have shared to go with the poem and show us the stone. You are making an entire lifetime of memories in one year of travel, and what fun to be able to see these wonders and capture them in poetry. I love the mention of hands, raised together in triumph for the living of life and the seizing of days and opportunities.
“We photograph our awe” places me with you, perhaps taking the photo and experiencing this place. I love the wondering questions in the last stanza, a true traveler of curiosity and awe.
I love poetry and writing of all kinds that talk about trips/experiences. I would love to visit these sites one day, and it is so neat to hear about your experience there, in poetic form. History is so interesting! Love this piece!
and some say these ancient men or women are “uncivilized”…
Sarah,
I’ll be there in June! Thanks for the sneak preview. Hard to pick a favorite line.
I can feel both the movement and the stillness in your poem.
Sarah, that picture is amazing. It must’ve been breathtaking to be there and see it in reality. I love what you do with sound in your poem. There are so many gentle internal rhyming moments and near rhyme that you’ve created here. The sounds create a sense of awe and peace.
Sarah, absolutely stunning poem. Every line flows effortlessly into the next. Thanks for sharing the photo. Truly inspiring place!
Hello to the world travelers in the photo! Love it.
Sarah, the first line beautifully sets me up for a pilgrimage alongside you: ” We walked uphill while the river let us pass.” The final stanza poses questions that make me think about human sacrifices that might or might not be justifiable – such a provocative move. Thank you for sharing the places you visit.
Sarah, your poem builds a sense of wonder and an almost scary thrill of seeing something so otherwordly. “…heart quickening…” that repetition works so well to build and heighten the awe. “…hands made small against the stone” is such a lovely phrasing that also heightens the importance of the site. Your whole sabbatical in poetry will be a remarkable volume. I love reading these pieces. Susie
Sarah,
Your poem returns me to that sacred place in Peru and all the awe-inspiring structures we visited there I took lots of photos at Sacsayhuamán and recall Ken’s wonder upon seeing it.
Erica, I love playing around with new poetic forms; I can’t recall if I have tried a cascade poem before. Your poem was instantly compelling – love how the name of the form led you to photos of waterfalls. Layers of associations! Your imagery, with details so carefully crafted, and words so well-chosen, brings me right to the playful waterfall. Leaves me with a wistfulness, somehow. Thank you for the inspiration today.
Ghost Cat?
She shows herself at peculiar times,
the unearthly pure white cat.
Whence she comes, where she goes,
no one living knows.
Appearing like a specter
reclining like the Sphinx
at wood’s edge, facing my house—
she shows herself at peculiar times.
To whom do you belong?
I wonder, but never actually ask.
She embodies mystery,
the unearthly pure white cat.
With a flick of her long white tail
and spectral, unwavering gaze,
she leaves me too awed to question
whence she comes, where she goes.
Time will pass. I’ll think she’s dead.
Then here she is again.
What’s your story, ghost-cat?
No one living knows.
Fran, I feel the cascade stanzas as repetition here, and these lines act like the cat appearing, reappearing. Have you checked this white cat for, say, a collar that might just have a red ruby on it somewhere – – or something green, the color of St. Patrick’s Day? Because I’d bet there is one of those colors there on the ghost cat who likes to check on you. And have you read To Dance with the White Dog by Terry Kay? This makes me think it’s an angel cat.
Fran, there’s currently a cow-cat that loves to come by at all times of the day to tease my dog who lies in the bay window. I always know she’s here because the dog doesn’t know what to do. She walks up to the window, rattles him, and stares. I love the mysterious way of such creatures and wish they didn’t make my eyes swell – I’d probably adopt many if I could. Thanks for the morning trickling of language.
Fran, we have a white cat who wanders our neighborhood. I love how you embrace the mystery in this poem and how masterfully you repeated the lines.
Fran, I love your use of the fluidity of the poem to contribute to the ghostly appearance and disappearance of the white cat.
This form kind reminds me of your beloved pantoums and this is just as good as any of those I’ve read, Fran. I love the ghosty and enigmatic nature of it.
The rhythm and flow in your poem work so well! And, of course, the content is great as well
Oh my gosh, Fran, your poem is uber cool. I love the narrator’s questions, and the eerie descriptors for the Ghost cat. “No one living knows.” is just plain fun! Fabulous poem!
Cascading, indeed. That was a fun challenge.
Kevin
Near the bridge, where the building doubled
in reflection on the running water;
our eyes doing a double-take
We’re noticing the horizontal line
where the real and the imagined connect
near the bridge, where the building doubled
She leans over the wall’s edge, to reach in
for ripples, and I am there, beside her,
in reflection on the running water
And above us, a heron flies, its shadow
a specter on the surface of water,
our eyes doing a double-take
Just beautiful, Kevin. I can see that heron flying – a this time of year, I see them often, and I just want to be still and drink in the sight. Love “the line where the real and imagined meet.”
Kevin, This is such a wonderful in-the-present-moment poem. I love the image of the reflection, the ripples, the heron “a specter on the surface of water”. My father captured that in a piece of art that hangs in my home. He loved watching the heron on the lake where he lived.
Kevin, I am glad you enjoyed this challenge. I thought it was clever how not only did you repeat lines for the form, but also made references for doubling and reflections. I could clearly visualize the ripples and reflections you were alluding to!
Kevin, I love how you used the water to create this idea of the real and the imagined connecting. That is so creative! I really like this piece!
Kevin, this is a beautiful scene that you’ve created. Very contemplative, with the mirroring images in the water and the heron on the 3rd stanza added an unexpected moment and movement. Really nice poem!