This is the Open Write, a place for educators to nurture their writing lives and to advocate for writing poetry in community. We gather every month and daily in April — no sign-ups, no fees, no commitments. Come and go as you please. All that we ask is that if you write, you respond to others to mirror to them your readerly experiences — beautiful lines, phrases that resonate, ideas stirred. Enjoy. (Learn more here.)
Our Host
Denise Krebs taught elementary grades, junior high, and college undergrads before retiring in 2021. She lives with her husband near Joshua Tree National Park and loves to spend time in the desert hiking and biking. She enjoys traveling to Minneapolis and Seattle to visit her grandchildren and their parents. She just began her third year of writing a poem a day while participating in The Stafford Challenge. She blogs regularly at Dare to Care.
Inspiration
A collective noun is a collection of individuals that are regarded as one unit, like a bouquet of flowers and a herd of cows. Here are some collective nouns I just made up:
- a fascination of flowers
- a beauty of bluebells
- a bedlam of cows
Easy! I found inspiration for my prompt in a post Molly Hogan wrote last spring about having fun with collective nouns. She discovered some beautiful collective nouns and made up some of her own. She tells us about it here:
“Just now I googled a group of butterflies. It can be called a swarm, or ….are you ready? …a kaleidoscope! Ah-mazing! I love that so much!
“It’s 100% fun to make up your own collective nouns though, and I highly recommend it. I will warn you though–it’s addictive! How about a gift of bluebirds? A cacophony of students? Or a plague of houseguests? Oh! Maybe a hemorrhoid of houseguests? lol See what I mean!? Collective nouns can also express some deep and darker emotions. How about these: a complicity of judges? a cesspool of Senators? a hypocrisy of evangelists? an abdication of Republicans?”
(Read more of Molly’s blog post, “Fun with Collective Nouns” at her Nix the Comfort Zone blog.)
Molly then wrote a vibrancy of verses, or small sweet poems, using collective nouns:
from drab winter debris
a chorus of crocuses
rises and sings
©Molly Hogan
a dizziness of daisies
spins across the field
the day tilts to joy
©Molly Hogan
a pride of dandelions
runs rampant across the lawn
seeding future wishes
©Molly Hogan
Process
First, explore some of the collective nouns that are already part of the English language. Here’s one source: https://loveenglish.org/collective-nouns-list/
Next, make up your own collective nouns. You can do a search for abstract and concrete nouns for more inspiration. Form them like this: A(n) “noun” of “nouns”.
Here are some sources for interesting nouns:
Abstract Nouns – https://englishstudyonline.org/abstract-nouns/
Concrete Nouns – https://aceenglishgrammar.com/a-to-z-concrete-nouns/
When you find/make a collective noun you like, save it for your poem. Then create with them.
Here are some ideas:
- Write a small poem using a collective noun, or a series of poems, like Molly did. Here are a few small poetry forms you might explore: elfchen, shadorma, kouta, gogyohka (Shoutout to Margaret Simon, where I learned of all these forms.)
- Use a collective noun as the title and inspiration for a free verse poem.
- Write a list poem full of collective nouns, like I did. What title will hold your collective nouns together?
- Or, as always, write whatever you need to write today!
Denise’s Poem
What Poems Carry
A weaving of words
A wealth of meanings
A burst of devices
A galaxy of wonders
A wandering of sorrows
A healing of hardships
A renewal of dreams
A hope of promises
A promise of hopes
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.
Denise, my breath caught in my throat when I realized that your children and grandchildren are in Minneapolis. I hope that they are safe and are harboring hope for their home. I loved your poem. Here is mine, dedicated to you.
A burning of ire.
An infection of ignorants
swarm Minneapolis.
A scab of fatigues
(did they think
they were entering
the jungles of Cambodia?)
Minneapolis is winter white.
Pockmarked by an irritation
of soldiers that the
fury of citizens don’t dare
scratch.
Until
A veil of violence surrounds
a car, and a surge of bravery,
of hope, finds its way,
tearful, freezing,
to the streets:
a collective, an anti-army.
A breath of heroes.
Denise, doggone it! I had everything ready in my head this morning after reading your prompt and that gorgeous poem. Then, the day got away from me. I loved the chance to create my own collective noun. I think this is a gogyohka, but I could be missing something. Either way, here’s my poem!
Blanket of Memories
warmed with
thoughts of
family gatherings
mom, the thread
in my blanket of memories
©Stacey L. Joy, 1/19/26
Stacey, wow. This is so lovely. I love the thought of a blanket of memories being a collective noun, holding us and keeping us warm. And the thread of your mom woven throughout is beautiful.
Denise,
I read your prompt this morning and thought I’d be able to get to it sooner, but, unfortunately, spent the day running errands. I really love this prompt and plan to play with this form more.
Cold Day in Northeast Ohio
A Teacher’s Delight
Wallops of winter white,
whips of wind that hardly whisper
This curiosity of cold
May cause watery eyes,
chilled fingers and toes
but, most importantly,
a day of repose!
I’m in Chicago, where the wind chill was -23 this morning, so your poem really speaks to me today, Tammi. I just love all your W sounds!
we, too experienced “ Wallops of winter white”, but schools were off due to MLKJR. Day.Youve used alliteration effectively to convey sensation of crispy coldness.
Tammi, nice rhyming in this sweet little poem. “wallops of winter white” and “whips of wind” are not only fun alliteration, but I feel the battering of the winter in these words. Snow days are always a wonderful “day of repose” Enjoy!
Tammi,
Outstanding! Such a creative use of collective nouns and you give me the chills🥶. Stay warm! The ending is soothing. We always say the wind makes our students go crazy. Do you notice the same?
Guardia
It is raining in Mazatlán,
rain stitching the sky to the Malecón, where a guardia rises.
A guardia of monigotes,
monigotes erected to watch over the city.
The city preparing—
preparing for kings and queens,
queens and kings of carnaval dreams with paper crowns.
Crowns waiting for literature,
literature waiting for poetry,
poetry waiting for art,
art waiting for its winners.
Winners waiting for the battle,
the battle of ships that bruise the water with fireworks.
Fireworks that write themselves on the rain,
rain that remembers every year at once.
Once, these streets were only streets.
Streets that learned how to gather.
Gather to become a city,
a city that becomes a witness.
A witness made of paper and glue,
glue and iron and impossible patience.
Patience taller than the palms,
palms lifting questions into the wet air.
Air that asks the guardia to speak.
Speak, it says—what have you seen?
Seen: a thousand first kisses of carnaval.
Carnaval burning and being rebuilt.
Rebuilt into bodies that do not move,
move except inside the eye.
The eye that walks past them.
Them, who stay.
Stay long enough to become story.
Story that returns to skin after the rain.
You can learn about the manigotes with me here. I read they are made of papier-mache of some sort, so I imagined them melting in the rain today or if the rain continues, but I think they have protection on them because they are supposed to last through mid-February. Also, I learned about Anadiplosis. This is the rhetorical/poetic technique where the last word (or phrase) of a line becomes the first word of the next line. This seemed to work perfectly with the idea of the manigotes guarding the walking path– or at least in my mind.
Sarah,
Your poem is so cool on so many levels. The manigotes are fascinating and you capture their magic so well in your words … “The city preparing—
preparing for kings and queens,/queens and kings of carnaval dreams with paper crowns”
and “Fireworks that write themselves on the rain,/
rain that remembers every year at once” and
I love the use of Anadiplosis.
Sarah, you build excitement with each repeating line in this poem. Anadiplosis form works naturally with your way of telling about the carnival in Mazatlan. You are learning so much this year, and your poems carry these new discoveries to us. My favorite is this stanza:
“Crowns waiting for literature,
literature waiting for poetry,
poetry waiting for art,
art waiting for its winners.”
It makes me want to get excited for crowns, and literature, and poetry, and winners. I think now, when I go to the next parade in New Orleans to join the crowds, see kings and queens, the floats and throws, I will remember this poem every time.
Wow, Sarah, you are teaching us so much! Thank you for bringing us a little bit on your sabbatical. The Anadiplosis technique reminded me of the Blitz poetry form when I read your “Guardia.” And I see you got a sweet collective noun in there — “A guardia of monigotes,” Thanks for the link too. It was fascinating to learn about these papier-mache behemoths. So delightful!
Just a bunch of bones
trembling around the
member’s only jacket of muscles
trying to contain the
picnic basket of pain
and past problems of procrastination
coming to roost.
The chickens keep pickin’
around my brain
the blame belongs to only me.
Well, someday, someday
I’ll get my act together.
Right now, once the curtains open
nothing is hidden:
the left over piles of procrastinations
the debt of debris
swept into the corners
the distasteful accounts hidden in the darkness
strewn about the stage of
creaky floors, echoing aches, dimly lit disasters,
spotlight swiftly swinging to keep your attention away.
All the world’s a stage, I am simply a bit player
playing at once with too much emotion and not nearly enough.
Luke! I just took a break from cleaning out a spare room, including the closet, and came right to your poem! Perhaps we are a cluster of cleaners? I love the member’s only jacket of muscles in your poem.
This feels so brave to read—like you let us stand inside your inner weather without protecting us from it. Even in all that heaviness, the images are alive and sharp and beautiful, and they make me feel how much care and awareness live inside you, not failure.
Luke —
“Right now, once the curtains open/nothing is hidden:
the left over piles of procrastinations/the debt of debris/swept into the corners” — I can relate to this. Sometimes I feel exposing all out is the only way to move through.
Luke, wow! After a weekend of procrastinating, you created this! Wow. There are so many effective and wow moments for me, like “the picnic basket of pain” and the “jacket of muscles” and “the chickens keep pickin’ / around my brain / the blame belongs only to me” I could go on with the description of the room. Really powerful. I think there is just the right emotion in this piece. I’m glad you came today.
Luke, this was fine!
Also meant to say (finger too quick on the “Return” key) that I loved your alliteration, your metaphors, internal rhyme, and collective nouns. Loved the ending. Skillfully done! 🙂
Denise, thanks for this angle into a poem. Amazing what a collective noun can help one conjure. I have accepted the Stafford Challenge this year at Sharon’s nudging. Hope you are well.And thank you for your promise of hopes.
Jamie
Sightings into prose poems
One fall afternoon my partner and I ducked under the wide spread of a pecan tree’s branches to take shelter from the rain. Soon after seated against the trunk we watched a swarm of monarchs drop out of the branches. For a moment the shape of the wings mirrored the shape of the pecan leaves. A mere blink.
A few winters ago we drove through the new state park, Big Bend, only to be halted by a herd of Big Horn Sheep. Too many to count. A gift on our early morning drive.
Two Septembers ago while sitting on the beach near sunset I noticed a large round shape in a wave. I hopped up to see it more closely. Realizing it was a lone sea turtle riding the wave.
And just this morning driving across Town Lake on the Lamar Bridge a large winged solo bird flew up towards me and my windshield. Almost encouraging me to swerve which would have been unfortunate for me and the vehicle in the other lane.
Oh, Jamie, what a beautiful journey as you take us along on these sightings. They are stunning and memorable as you convey in your prose poem. I would love to see a large herd of Big Horn (one of my favorite desert creatures, which I’ve only seen in the wild in very small doses) A sea turtle would be great to see too. Thanks for sharing! Enjoy the Stafford Challenge. I like how we can accomplish it at our own level. (I some days write really bad haiku, and I have even been known to miss a few days here and there.)
I love each of these prose poems, Jamie! You really show us how to live in the moment. I don’t often write prose poems, but you’ve inspired me to give it a shot! Thanks.
Jamie, This is so beautiful and tender to sit with. The way you notice the collective—the swarm, the herd, even the single bird as part of a larger breathing world—feels like a gift you keep giving yourself and us. That monarch moment especially, the wings briefly becoming leaves, is stunning; it feels like your poem knows how to let the world touch it and then let it go.
Sarah
Jamie,
Your imagery is so beautiful, and I really enjoyed the movement of this prose poem throughthe seasons and years.
Jamie, I loved bearing witness to these moments. So beautiful! And I smiled at how generous your word choice was for the “large winged solo bird” who merely tried to “[encourage you] to swerve” on the Lamar Bridge today. Thank you for capturing these and sharing them with us!
oh no! I’ve had a very busy weekend of procrastination and I totally forgot it was open write weekend. I look forward to reading everyone’s additions, maybe adding some of my own, maybe a day or two too late.
Oh, too, bad, Luke. Hope your week ahead is good. You probably needed the rest that the procrastination brought. I’ll look back over this month’s prompts the next couple of days and see what you add!
A Tautology of Types
Have you heard this one? The dad asks.
There are two types of people in this world –
the type that separates
people into groups
and…
Wait…
I ask, who are the people who
group people? Are we talking the ones who
pick teams for dodgeball? The ones who
arrange tables for wedding guests?
Do they start Subreddits?
Do they have their own group?
An Assortment
of sorters? A cream
of separators? A tontine
of taxonomists? A pool
of typists, perhaps?
A troll of subredditors?
Why are we like that?
What is it that makes the sheep
bellwether the flock?
Is there a type of starling that
doesn’t want to susurrate?
I asked the dad what the alternative was
to being a person who groups people,
But he couldn’t remember the rest of the joke.
Oh, my goodness. This is so much fun. Each of your questions and collective nouns make me stop, reread, and admire. So many stellar lines–“the sheep / bellwether the flock?”, “starling that doesn’t want to susurrate?” Another of my favorites is “A cream of separators?” Clever poem!
Jeff, I love your final line. The rest of the joke. All the other ideas nudged me to open my dictionary. Thanks for the joke.
Wonderful. I love the ending.
I love this so much—and I have to admit, the word tautology has always slightly eluded me too, which makes the way you play with it here feel especially generous, like you’re inviting us into the not-knowing. The roll call of collectives—an assortment of sorters, a cream of separators, a tontine of taxonomists—is genuinely beautiful and funny, but also tender; it feels like the poem is wondering about our need to belong even as it gently untangles it.
Jeff,
Your poem is so clever! I love the set up through the joke, all the groups and questions and then the payoff with the punch line of the dad joke being forgotten — just perfect! So fun!
Jeff, I loved especially:
“A cream
of separators?”
(lol!)
and this stanza
“Why are we like that?
What is it that makes the sheep
bellwether the flock?
Is there a type of starling that
doesn’t want to susurrate?”
Inspired!
Workshopping
There’s an art to labeling a
group of people; You don’t,
for instance, want to be too
cute as a shush of librarians,
for example, or too clinical
as a conference of poets. No.
You need to strike the right chord
between whimsy and practicality
which is why I’ve decided to avoid
a slapstick of ICE agents (after seeing
the “officer” slip on the sidewalk and
discharge his weapon when he fell
to the ground) and moved to try a
more fitting moniker (after the recent
events in Minneapolis): I’d humbly
suggest a cowardice of ICE agents.
____________________________________________________
Thank you, Denise, for reminding me of all of these fun collective nouns! I loved your “fascination of flowers” and your “wandering of sorrows”!
Oh, wow, Scott, such a perfect workshopping of a new word, and your thinking process in creating collective nouns. The best part, of course, is the commentary on our society. A cowardice of ICE agents. Perfection. Thank you for this.
And Scott, I think you’ve found the most flattering noun referring to ICE agents. I keep wondering how they could possibly show up to work every day only to terrorize people.
Jamie
Scott, I see your poem is about the logic and humor of naming—how we cobble together collective nouns with wit (a cream of separators, a troll of subredditors) and how that playfulness opens space to ask deeper questions about why we sort and label at all. You’re especially clever and thoughtful where you riff on the different kinds of “sorters” and turn familiar categories into something almost absurdly precise. And I can see you’re also wrestling with the tension between individual action and collective identity in your references to ICE and that real-world tragedy—the poem holds both critique and curiosity in the same breath, if I am reading it right.
Scott. there is so much that makes me sad about the events in Minneapolis. Cowardice is, imo, actually a kind word choice for this devastating situation.
Scott — The “shush of librabrians” may be too cute, but I love it. Though not as much as I love your “fitting moniker” of “cowardice of ICE agents”. Spot on!
Scott,
Brilliant as always! Workshopping pulled me right in! These lines hit the nail on the head!
But the ending is a mic drop moment!👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽
Right on, Scott. <3
Denise, thank you for your wonderful prompt that encouraged me to think outside the box and play with words. It has been a challenging season of life as we, as a country, deal with so many critical, important concerns. Taking time this morning to focus on playing with words has given me renewed energy and a smile. Thank you.
I tried to run from the
Murder of crows flying above the
Parliament of owls watching the
Flamboyance of flamingos staring at the
Cloud of bats hanging ominously while the
Convocation of eagles watched in
Eagle-eyed fascination as the
Swarms of bees took flight and the
Pandemonium of parrots mocked them all.
Sweating, panicking, dreaming of
Collective nouns.
Yeah, so glad you got to spend some time playing with words and smiling. Can’t beat that start to the day. Wow. I love all the bolded words that makes them even more bold and powerful in the poem than they are as part of a collective bird noun, and makes the dream even scarier. Fun poem!
So many beautiful collective nouns. Might be my favorite – Convocation of eagles
Anita, a rafter of turkeys crossed the road in front of me this weekend. That’s it, no punchline, but they made me smile.
Anita, it looks like you had fun with these collective nouns. My favorites are flamboyance of flamingos and convocation of eagles. I might dream of those too ))
Anita, I love how this poem turns collective nouns into a whole living weather system—murder, parliament, flamboyance, cloud, pandemonium—until the language itself feels like what’s swarming and circling the speaker. It’s playful and anxious at the same time, and that last turn, “dreaming of / collective nouns,” feels both funny and tender, like you’ve caught the mind in the exact moment it realizes it’s being overtaken by wonder.
Almanac
A pasture of feathers,
frantic freedoms of flight,
wilted, weathered,
darkened,
golden glights.
Alone altogether,
Sunkissed sight,
unawareness,
in unison,
Feeding frenzy,
with
bittersweet bites.
Red underwings,
through forgotten fields
sporadic sings,
for Springtime yields.
As a blackbird lights,
On rotten sage,
In the farmers sight,
Of a plowman’s page.
Boxer, the imagery of your poem brought me into the field where the farmer is standing, leaning on his tractor as the birds plumage the fields for “springtime yields.” Lovely
Clayton, so many beautiful images here and the sound! With words sitting near one another in unison. My favorite is the plowman’s page as I imagine writers gleaning what is left to craft something new.
Boxer, your poem captures such a strong sense of movement that bridges the gap between the wild, frantic energy of the birds (with “frantic,” “flight,” and “feeding frenzy”) and the steady, rhythmic work of the farmer. You skillfully manage to present the tension between the collective energy of nature and the solitary work of humans. I kept thinking how nature has it cyclical, sometimes chaotic and sometimes harsh, change from one season to another, but the plowman’s work has to happen regardless. Love the use of alliteration pairs: frantic freedoms, golden glights, feeding frenzy, bittersweet bites, forgotten fields, and plowman’s page. Masterfully done!
Boxer, you are such a master of rhyme. I always enjoy reading your work, the sounds dancing throughout the poem. The alliteration here is magical. I can see and hear the pasture of feathers in a feeding frenzy.
Boxer, the rural countryside sings in your poem today. The richness of nature, of birds in flight, of season, of light. It’s all beautiful.
Nice, beautiful scene and speech. So pastoral to my mind. Also, calming.
Boxer, This feels like an almanac in the truest sense—a keeping of seasons through sound and image, where the birds become weather, light, and memory all at once. The music of the language is so beautiful here (“golden glights,” “bittersweet bites,” “sporadic sings”), and that final image of the blackbird on rotten sage feels quietly holy, like a small, exact blessing inside the page.
Peace,
Sarah
Denise, thanks for your beautiful poem. Exactly right for MLK, Jr. Day! On the other hand, your poetry prompt also reminds me of Shakespeare, who is known for making up new words. Both brought me warm thoughts in our freezing weather today, here in West Michigan. See the photo of the view out of my dining room window!
Blustering Fluster of Flakes
The bluster of snowflakes
Blanche the rooftops
Making travel plans flop!
The freak of flakes
Flounce with the breeze
I’m staying inside
Who wants to sneeze?
Drooping drops
Flip and flop
Flounce and bounce
Flurrying about
And make me doubt
Will even the deer come out tonight?
Maybe they too will take flight
Where will they find food in all this white?
Then flacks of facts come to mind
Snow is winter water
Just what spring seeds need
Maybe freaking flakes are really kind
Ah, what a beautiful sight!
Anna, it is so cold here, but snowless. I appreciate your photo. It would definitely keep me inside. I love the imagery of your poem and the use of sound. “The bluster of snowflakes” is such a perfect opening line.
Anna, spectacular! I love the created words and phrase, especially in the title, “Blustering Fluster of Flakes.” The fun words and rhymes bring a sweet and playful tone throughout. I like your thinking and empathizing with the deer. Then that last stanza where your mindset changes and you become thankful for the winter precipitation. Fun poem and beautiful photo to illustrate it. Enjoy your at-home snow day.
Anna, I’m enjoying this “blustering fluster of flakes” alongside you from an hour away (and from inside with a view almost the same). The reminder that “snow is winter water” lessens the impact a bit as I yearn for spring – a necessity at this time of year, I know, but oh, for warmer weather!
Anna, you had me smiling at a “bluster of snowflakes” even though I had spent more than a brief moment scraping ice and piles of snow from my driveway and car. Then, your question about whether or not the deer will even bother to come out in this crazy cold, snow covered tundra of a day is an image I will long carry.
Anna, I love the photo of your current view from the window. Living in Louisiana, I miss snow a lo, so you “bluster of snowflakes” and “freak of flakes” sound so attractive now. A beautiful sight indeed! Thank you for this beautiful poem rich in imagery.
Anna, I really love how the collective nouns drive the music and motion of this poem—the bluster of snowflakes, freak of flakes, flacks of facts feel like little storms of language that mirror the weather itself. There’s something joyful and smart in the way you let those groupings tumble and change, moving from chaos and doubt into care and wonder. By the time you arrive at “snow is winter water / just what spring seeds need,” the poem feels like it has taught itself to see differently, and that turn is genuinely beautiful. — Sarah
Denise,
Thanks for hosting. Love that photo and the Joshua tree! Love the prompt and especially the last two lines of your poem. My offering isn’t *poetic,* but it’s what popped into my head this morning.
Women Sang a Siren Song
Women sang a
siren song
warning us what
they’d do.
Now we watch his
basket of deplorables
facsimile of fascists
designers of dictatorship
existential threats to equality
authors of authoritarianism
cabal of complicit cronies
punishers of political rivals
fans of fascism
piggy of polarizing populism
revilers of the rule of law
destroyers of democracy
manifesting the malignancy
singers of the siren song
prophesied & predicted.
Glenda Funk
January 19, 2026
Glenda, your poem is rife with riveting words and the horror of this “siren song.” I especially liked “basket of deplorables”, “punishers of political rivals”, “piggy of polarizing populism” and “manifesting the malignancy”. Your ending is a powerful close that adds the proverbial nail in the coffin.
Glenda, as always you are true to yourself and carry the torch of of justice with the precise definitions of this regime. The one that stopped me is “cabal of complicit cronies”–to me, these are the dangerous ones, quiet and unpredictable. I like how you used alliteration to ensure the sound to amplify the meaning.
Glenda, thank you for the shoutout to Hilary and Kamala. Yes, they did warn us exactly of the very thing that is happening. As did 92% of Black women voters in American. So, on this MLK Day, it is safe to say the foundations of racism and misogyny still reign here in this “land of the free.” As usual, you find words of strength and affect to tell the truth. There is so much true in each of his lines, it is hard to pick a favorite, but I can’t stop reading “piggy of polarizing populism”. Then those last two lines reminding us we have no excuses. This was all “prophesied and predicted.” Thanks again for leading the way in resistance!
Glenda, I am equally mesmerized and appalled by the litany of titles attributed (piggy of polarizing populism had me snorting – sorry, couldn’t help the work choice). Returning the poem to the singers of the siren song is the perfect ending – it collects all the worst and flanks it – I can see the battle unfolding now.
Glenda, your poem is filled with powerful images that depict the regime and how it is trying to destroy democracy while building a dictatorship. Your phrase about “manifesting malignancy” is one that stings a I do see this cancer of hate spreading through so many layers of our society. I have found myself bereft, recently, worn down by the continual onslaught of hate, lies and threats. I chose to write “just for fun” this morning; however, you have brought me back to where we all need to be: fighting for a future.
Oh, how I get the feeling of the harbingers here. The sirens singing the warning song, the prophets of the deep. Your word choice adds so much to the tone and mood here – malignancy, destroyers. You wrote a winner today that sends a clear and unmistakeable message.
Love it, great idea and execution of the subject matter. I can’t decide of my favorite line is “piggy…” or “cabal…”. ” singers of the siren song indeed. Thank you for being one of those sirens
Glenda,
This poem feels so powerful in the way it moves between women as a collective voice and these brutal, accumulating collective nouns that name what’s unfolding—the language itself becomes a kind of evidence. I’m really struck by the tension you’re holding: a siren song meant to warn and protect set against these corrosive groupings that keep expanding and hardening. The poem doesn’t just list; it builds a collective, and in doing so, it shows how naming can be both prophecy and resistance.
Peace,
Sarah
Glendaaaaaaaa!!! Yes, yes, yes!!! I am in awe at the power of each line! I really want to hear this one spoken LOUDLY for all to hear!
Denise,
Thank you for this fun prompt that I’m sure to come back to for more word play.
I absolutely love
Your poem so beautifully captures the power of poetry to heal and uplift.
Today I learned the collective nouns for poets and wrote this haiku for our group:
————————————————-
Iamb of poets
Obscurity of poets
Glen of gratitude
————————————————–
I’m doing a slow read of War and Peace with Simon Haisell at Footnotes and Tangents on substack which I highly recommend. Would be easy to catch up if anyone wants to join. Somehow this slow reading project has combined with my poem a day habit (begun here at Ethical ElA on April 2nd, 2024th (I forgot to start on April 1st–ha)) and I’ve been reading the daily chapter, highlighting interesting parts, and then rereading and writing haiku to help me better understand and remember my reading. It’s possible it’s become a bit of an obsession. There was so much intrigue in yesterday’s chapter that I wrote seven pages of haiku. I’m not sure the chapter itself was seven pages. Anyway, having a lot of fun with that and so today I wrote about that and zoomed out a bit on the book instead of focusing on one chapter. Your prompt, Denise, makes me want to bring some of the whimsy of word play to my haiku recaps.
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Passel of haiku
I’m rewriting War and Peace
One chapter a day
Covey of intrigue
Tolstoy pairs his characters
Shows us different sides
Rumple of royals
Vying for Count B’s money
Judging Anna M
Petersberg salon
Drum of debates about war
Anna P shuts down
Bolt of drunken boys
Tolstoy’s stand in, blank Pierre
Tying cop to bear
Gulp of wine glasses
Moscow’s fun–dancing, dessert
Politics boring
Foliage of young
Crying in the nursery
Dancing with adults
Sharon, I am so impressed and inspired by your writing and reading obsession. Your poem captures so many great details about War and Peace. I loved so many lines that you share in this poem, but I especially enjoyed: “Covey of intrigue”, “Bolt of drunken boys” and “Foliage of young.”
Sharon,
I’m echoing Barb’s note. I’ve not read War and Peace, but your gorgeous lines and your reading make me want to. I might give this a try. Not sure I can do it! I will need your haiku to help. And this is a perfect plan for the Stafford Challenge. Are you sharing your haiku daily on any platform? “Covey of intrigue” sparks my curiosity,
Sharon, Oh, these haiku are delicious. What a wonderful way to recap each chapter. You have done a super job of adding “whimsy of word play” to your summaries. Some of my favorite collective nouns you’ve created are “bolt of drunken boys” and “foliage of young” Wow. That whole last haiku is so intriguing. The introductory haiku, too, is a favorite. You will definitely have a passel of haiku by the end of the year!
I was fascinated by the idea of slow reading War and Peace. I can’t think of it now, but I have added it to my calendar for next November. I think I will give it a go in 2027.
Sharon, you are my hero. Listening/reading to War and Peace on your own and writing about it in haikus – so impressive! I read it in 9th grade–it was in our mandatory, prescriptive Soviet curriculum. The entire third quarter, we read, discussed, analyzed, and I wrote a 6-page composition about Count Andrei Bolkonsky. now, reading your poem brought back the memories about the characters, events, general plot of the novel. But this one, to me, captures the essence of Moscow and russia even today:
“Gulp of wine glasses
Moscow’s fun–dancing, dessert
Politics boring”
Thank you for sharing!
Sharon, what a perfect way to condense the mighty volume that is War and Peace – into such a small poetic form (that contains so much!). I love your poet collection too – Iamb of poets must be shared with my 7th graders who have learned to love to write poetry and have just finished learning about Iambic Pentameter. And glen of gratitude sounds so soothing – how lucky are we!
I’m still amazed and dazzled by your approach to War and Peace in small bites, with haiku to summarize and retell. Poetry bringeth essence to epic. I can’t wait. I hope you will think about sharing with a publisher. It’s a radical and realistic idea, and you’ve given it wings.
I love how you use collective nouns as doorways into War and Peace—each one feels like a tiny lens that refracts a massive novel into something playful, graspable, and alive. The way passel, covey, rumple, bolt, gulp, foliage gather both people and feeling makes the poem feel like it’s honoring Tolstoy’s scale while also giving us your own, intimate way of moving through it.
Denise, what an interesting prompt you’ve treated us to today. I loved the links you’ve shared and have enjoyed reviewing collective nouns, etc. I have two I’m going to share as a collective nod to William Carlos Williams. One to escape the ugly truth. One to showcase the ugly truth. I love the emotional pull of your poem and appreciate the positive closing.
This is Just to Say……Hmmm
I have watched
the reel
of film capturing
masked men
who terrorize
blue city streets
stealing
sanity, peace
Forgive me
I cannot stomach
these lies
served so coldly
Winter Scene
so much depends
upon
a gaggle of
geese
a murmuration of
starlings
whirling above icy
waters
Barb Edler
19 January 2026
Barb,
We need both scenarios in your poems. Of course the “gaggle of geese” and “numeration of starlings” bring nature’s healing so we can be truth tellers. So much depends upon both worlds your crafted so exquisitely. The lies this admin tells turn my stomach, too. That WCW poem is perfect for this moment. I love both poems.
Barb, good for you for writing both today. I have read them over and over, and the line “blue city streets” keeps popping up–I think of the below 0 temps and icy conditions in Minneapolis these days as folks continue to protest, the sadness permeating the protestors, and of course it’s only Democratic cities that are targeted. Such a powerful line for me. And the closing “these lies / served so coldly” Wow! Of course, the “Winter Scene” is a lovely palate cleanser. I miss seeing those Iowa winter scenes.
Barb, your poems steal my heart every time. Your command of words, phrasing, structure is impeccable. I especially love when you incorporate the sound devices–an alliteration and consonance here–“city streets / stealing / sanity, peace” work so well to intensify the motion and meaning. In the second poem, “a gaggle of geese” and “a murmuration of
starlings” are beautiful rich images. Amazing word choices!
Barb, I love me a good nod to William Carlos Williams and both of yours celebrate in the best way. The lies served coldly sums up the entire situation. And the sound of the words “murmuration…whirling” is a balm – one I want to hear repeated. They uplift and bring us above the ice – so perfect.
“So much depends…” is such a great way to start writing.
Barb, these are perfect! I loved your use of WCW’s lines to comment on and critique the current climate. And I loved your use of the collective “reel / of film” to describe the numerous documented instances of these “masked men … terror[izing] / blue city streets.”
Barb, your spin on William Carlos Williams in times like these as a response to the chaos in the world is just perfect. Wheelbarrows and plums ~ the blending of the two poems is just delightful, and with the perspective of today it brings a smile and a resounding nod of understanding and connection.
Barb,
I love how these two poems speak to each other—the first resisting, the second re-seeing. In This is Just to Say…Hmmm, the familiar form is charged with moral weight, and your refusal—“I cannot stomach / these lies”—feels clear, steady, and necessary. Then Winter Scene turns us back toward collective beauty, where gaggle and murmuration restore motion, breath, and wonder; the tension between what harms and what still gathers is where these poems feel especially alive.
Peace,
Sarah
Denise, what a great prompt and an opportunity to invent collective nouns. Could be a great activity in any classroom. in your list poem, I love each one of them, but especially the ending:
“A hope of promises
A promise of hopes”
When I was growing up, we (parents, siblings, and friends) used to write wishes on birthday cards, and one of the wishes was always “an ocean of love,” so this memory helped me write this poem today.
A Bucket Full of Wishes
A drop of patience
A river of good fortune
A sea of good luck
An ocean of health
A storm of creativity
A land of happiness
A mountain of love
A forest of bravery
A steppe of kindness
A sun of possibilities
A sky of hope
A universe of wisdom
A galaxy of peace
All of it
in one small bucket
held out with both hands
Leilya, what an amazing, loving poem. I appreciate how well you build to the final stanza which is such a lovely image and wish for anyone. Love the fore note about “an ocean of love”. I need to steal that one! Gorgeous poem!
Leilya,
Thank you for sharing your family tradition and for this lovely Monday offering of hope and wonder. I wish all of this for you, too.
Ahh, what lovely birthday wishes. What a generous and beautiful list. You know what my favorite might be? “A drop of patience”, which after reading and rereading your list seems to be all that is needed of patience. Like a little WD-40 can do on a squeak, in a stressful time, just a drop of patience can prevent an escalation. Then the rest of the list is expansive beyond comprehension, and yet, “all of it / in one small bucket / held out with both hands.” Just glorious!
Leilya, what a beautiful embracing of all that is good and all that we wish for others. To know this stemmed from the “ocean of love” you wished one another makes it all the more meaningful. I love the steppe of kindness – steppe is rarely used and I can’t help but imagine the sound play to read as “step up” and into kindness, giving it action.
That’s such a fun way to seal a card, with a wish. Your bucket of wishes puts a smile on my face and joy in my heart as I read it today…..hmmm…..I really am drawn to that mountain of love – it would be my first pick. And I love the play on words with steppe and kindness, putting action toward it.
Leilya, This poem feels like an offering, the way people line stones along a path or light candles one by one. I love how your collectives keep widening—from drop to universe—so that the wishes don’t just accumulate, they expand, and by the end it feels like you’ve built a whole cosmos out of care.
Peace,
Sarah
Leilya,
I adore this poem, this prayer, this plea for peace! It’s filling me with love because of all the goodness pouring forth!
💙
Denise, what a clever way to prompt a deep dive into words! Your poem is a gift bag of all the wonder and goodness of poetry – and what a bounty it is! My mind went straight to the deep dive and groupings, and I ended up watching an abecedarian deep sea parade through my snorkeling mask…..and it was a fascinating way to start the day. I’m listing all those things I saw at
The Deep Sea Parade
an artistry of angelfish
a buffoonery of blowfish
a charm of chum
a dazzle of dragonfish
an eloquence of eel
a flamboyance of flying fish
a gallancy of grouper
a harmony of humpback whales
an illustration of icthyosaur
a jubilance of jellyfish
a kinship of krill
a lumination of lanternsharks
a majesty of manatees
a narrowmind of needlefish
an openarmory of octopus
a pulmonation of pufferfish
a quarrel of quahog
a radiance of ribbonfish
a soldiering of seahorses
a thundering of trumpetfish
a union of unicorn fish
a vault of vampire squid
a whiskering of walrus
a xanadu of xiphosura
a yubadubdub of yellow soapfish
a zooband of zebra turkeyfish
and I joined the parade as the mermaid caboose
come join in, mermaids and mermen!
We’ll be a murmuration ~
the finest mermaid nation!
Kim, this is so cool! I love your “abecedarian deep sea parade,” which seems to be a double deep since you created a collective noun and a added the name of the fish following the ABC–alliteration as a result is an additional bonus. I certainly would love to join a “murmeration–the finest mermaid nation!” This is a gem!
Kim, what a fun poem. I have certainly learned a great deal just by reading this. I love so many lines like a jubilance of jellyfish and a quarrel of quahog. Oh my, this would be such a great poem for kids to read aloud.
Kim, I love the pure playfulness of your poem. Such joy! Thanks for introducing me to another fun form.
Kim,
As I wrote this morning I almost penned an abecedarian poem, too, but I prefer to swim in the coral reef of color you’ve created in this beautiful celebration of the sea. We’re going to Puerto Rico in less than two weeks, so this will soon be my reality. Love it.
Oh, Kim, I could spend hours with your poem a an image search to learn more about these deep sea parade entries. So lovely. Two of my favorites are the gruff “whiskering of walrus” and the beautiful “radiance of ribbonfish” Wow! Such imagery. And yubadubdub made me smile!
Love this, Kim. I just had a children’s poem entry come across my radar and decided not to pursue due to an entrance fee, but your poem is perfect. It would make a beautiful children’s book too. The flying fish image is fantastic – flamboyant indeed!
This is awesome! Love the beat and flow!! Nice!!
Kim,
You continue to amaze me! How you created this period is simply incredible, but the fact that you did it within such a short time frame just astounds!
There is so much imagery and creative wordplay here, but my favorite is “radiance of ribbonfish.”
Kim, I feel like you are right here in Mexico with me. I’m completely delighted by this poem—the way you build a whole underwater world out of collectives feels like watching a reef come alive through language. So many of these are gorgeous, but “a lumination of lanternsharks” and “a harmony of humpback whales” really shine; they feel both musically right and emotionally true. And that turn where you join the parade as the “mermaid caboose” is such a joyful invitation—this poem doesn’t just name a collective, it creates one, and I’d love to see you keep expanding this ocean of imagination.
This is a lot of fun, Kim! My favorite lines are “a soldiering of seahorses” and “a thundering of trumpetfish.” And thank you for introducing me to chum salmon. I thought “chum” was just the stuff thrown overboard to catch the fish until I looked it up and was, like, oh, they’re fish, too, lol.
This is such a great prompt, Denise, with wonderful instruction/guidance to inspire us. I went in a million different directions and expect that I will create multiple poems today.
Go, Hoosiers!!
membership
when you arrive
finally or regrettably
part of a select group
whether you want it or not
welcome to the club
~Susan Ahlbrand
19 January 2026
Susan, I love the universality of this club. The sense of belonging is strong here – I can think of so many of these clubs in a variety of areas of life. You took the specific and made it universal, and that is the heart of poetry.
Thank you, Susan! That “welcome to the club” is so relatable and relevant regardless of the club. I am also thinking about your wisdom here with “finally or regrettably”–sometimes the arrival is awaited and anticipated eagerly, and other times it is just a sad reality, like my “welcome to a club of the back pains in bloom.” 🙂
What a fascinating poem, Susan. I love the ambiguity expressed in the second line. I will certainly be rooting for the Hoosiers tonight. This is not something I do often but go Big 10!
Yes, Go Hoosiers! Susan, I like the ambiguity of “finally or regrettably” and the openness of so many possible clubs that we belong to over our lifetimes.
Susan,
Did you see Jane Pauley’s IU story on CBS Sunday Morning yesterday? I don’t like college football at all, but I hope IU win for you.
Oh, Susan! I’m looking forward to the game tonight. This season has been a Hoosier of Accomplishments. As a non-football fan, I didn’t choose to arrive in this membership, but here I am cheering on Indiana.
Go Hoosiers! I’m rooting for your team because we poets need to stick together for all of the things. But also because my younger son pulled Mendoza’s auto recently, and he has been in a state of riot over this game since the pull. May all the good things happen!
Susan,
This poem feels so quietly sharp—the way you reduce “membership” to arrival, inevitability, and that complicated welcome says so much in so few words. “finally or regrettably” is especially beautiful to me; it holds pride and unease in the same breath, and it makes the collective feel human rather than fixed.
Peace,
Sarah
Denise, so many ideas to transfer directly into the classroom! Thank you for this invitation to play with collectives. I love the many ways you share what poems are and do, especially in the exchange of hope and promise in those last two line, strengthening their unity. I’m listening to gusts howl outside the house as we brace for the coldest weather of the year, and my thoughts are drawn to those outside.
MLK 2026: A Collection in Three
a banshee of protestors
sounded,
warning of
coming loss
a howling of innocents
reverberated
heralding death’s arrival,
keens echoing across
blackened fields of stars
and bloodied stripes
a hollow of leaders
sat,
repeating the silence
Jennifer, I could read this thirty times today and get something different out of it each time. Your masterful use of the nation’s symbols with blackening and blood carries your message, and the feeling as a collective but also as an Appalachian mountain is fascinating and brings perception, emotion, and imagery to the mood and tone. I love the use of banshee in the first line as a warning sound. What a deep and profound poem! You always take us to the depths of meaning and show us varied layers of it.
Jennifer, I love the word choice throughout your poem. I can feel the heartbreak, anguish and terror. From the “blackened fields” to the “howling of innocents” I hear that “keen echo”. Powerful poem and so relevant for today. Your end has me pausing to reflecting about silence and the trouble inflicted by “a hollow of leaders”. Tremendous poem!
Oh, Jennifer, what a heartbreaking poem. Your last stanza sits so heavy.
Jennifer, stay warm and cozy. Hope you have all you need inside your house today. It is cold in Louisiana with 30F (feels like 24F) this morning, so I vaguely remember how true cold may feel. I am so glad you brought up MLK this morning. I woke up thinking about this day, and unfortunately not in the good way. Your invented collective nouns–“a banshee of protestors,” “a howling of innocents,” and “a hollow of leaders” are precise descriptors of our moment, moving from warning to grief to a devastating silence. you clearly name what so many of us feel but struggle to say. Thank you!
Jennifer,
Tjis is a perfect poem for today and really for our nation as we hear and witness a rebirth of hatred and the same nonsense King and his contemporaries endured. I think “howling of innocents” is the phrase that holds this verse together and speaks to my heart most.
Thank you, Jennifer, for this. The title is perfect. The three is so interesting because you chose to exclude the hollow of leaders’ hired guns as a group, which makes it so much more powerful. The first two will prevail. That short line “sat” says so very much. I had to look up keens, so thanks for that words. Wow, these lines:
Banshee, howling, hollow . . . how perfect each one of those is for the situation.
Your poem resonates so powerfully today. How on earth does the silence continue to repeat. And then when the silence is breached, it’s typically with idiocy.
Bravo, Jennifer!
Jennifer, This poem feels like a wound and a witness at the same time—the way you move through a banshee of protestors, a howling of innocents, a hollow of leaders shows such a clear understanding of how collectives can carry sound, grief, and absence. That image of “blackened fields of stars / and bloodied stripes” is devastatingly beautiful; it holds both the nation and its breaking in just a few words. I’m grateful for how you let poetry do what speeches so often fail to do here: not just call for change, but make us feel the cost of the silence—and in doing so, you refuse to be part of it.
a chandelier of
egrets greeted me on the
Masai Mara: bliss
by Mo Daley
1/19/26
I love this prompt, Denise!
Oh how I want to sit below this chandelier, Mo! Such a beautiful image to greet us with this morning. It pulls me right from the cold and snow, like a light flicking on.
A chandelier of egrets – – I can see them on the branches of a tree, hanging like crystals on a light fixture. Love the haiku to show the bliss of that feeling of greeting by these peaceful birds.
Mo, “a chandelier of egrets’ Wow! I love this beginning and how well your poem flows and ends with ‘bliss”. Not only have you captured a moment of beauty but also a celebration of sound. Sensational poem!
Mo, egrets are my favorite birds. And now when I stop to admire their wonder, I will think of your poem. Thank you.
Wow, Mo. There is so much richness. The chandelier of egrets overhead, lighting up the sky; that they were greeting you, personally; and identifying the exotic Masai Mara. A wealth of details here!
Mo, this is just such a beautiful image – to see you greeted by “a chandelier of
egrets”–the collective noun is just perfect. Bravo!
Mo,
I can see that “chandelier of egrets” bounding in a beautiful ballet through your words. Love it.
“a chandelier of egrets” . . . how beautiful. Such an image!
-Reading your poem reminds me of the value the pedagogical practice of reminding students to re-read! At first, I read the second line as “ regrets greeted me.…”…
Then I visualized a down day in the dining room, the narrator, wishing she had prepared a different meal!!!
Then, upon rereading, I realized you were capturing in tight poetry the expansive experience I’d had in Kenya, too!
What fun to have two opposite experiences reading one well written haiku!