March 2026 is Women’s History Month. When women choose to get involved in the process of community building, they typically join forces with men and collaborate in various ways. They organize events, educate people, start community projects, or just change the room’s atmosphere with their kindness and wisdom.
This month at Open Write, we will honor community building women–in our family, in our literature, and in the news, by crafting poems to express our thoughts and creativity about our chosen woman. Today, we will focus on a woman in your family.
Our Host

Anna J. Small Roseboro, a wife and mother, is a distinguished educator, mentor, and author with a career spanning more than five decades. She holds a Master of Arts in Curriculum Design, and a Bachelor’s in Speech Communications. As a National Board-Certified Teacher and National Writing Project Fellow, Anna has helped shape the lives of students and educators alike through her roles in schools, universities, and professional organizations in the five states where she has lived and worked. Anna has written extensively to support teachers and students. Her publications include our Ethical ELA team publication Assessing Students with Poetry Writing Across Content Areas (2026); Empowering Learners: Teaching Different Genres and Texts to Diverse Student Bodies (2023); and Planning and Purpose: A Handbook for New College Classroom Teachers (2021).
Inspiration
Many have family members whom they can write about with deep understanding. Let’s honor one of your women family members in our poems today. Consider a special event where family will gather in person or online, where you could share or present this poem as part of the celebration.
Process
Let’s write an acrostic poem. Consider the women in your family, past and present, as well as family goals for the young ones. Choose two of that person’s names. Write those letters down the left side of your paper or page. Now add words and phrases to the lines that begin with the letters of that person’s name. To help us get to know the person, consider including answers to who, what, when, where, why, and how.
Consider the sound of the chosen words. In what ways will using assonance and onomatopoeia enhance the message you wish to convey in this poem about a woman in your family or family circle that you admire?
And, please consider illustrating the poem with a photo or appropriate graphic and post it here, with the poem. I urge you to plan and share the poem with family members at a special family gathering. Here’s one written about our baby sister, Veronica Emerald, that we shared at a seminal birthday celebration.
Anna’s Poem

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.
my poem is in the attachment
My amazing partner is lamenting this week because she says she is so old! (she’s not) She says 46 might as well be 50, but when she turns 50 in 4 more years, I’ll only be 48, which is basically 40. Our shared sense of humor may not translate well, or maybe I’m just not a good translator.
I don’t do a good enough job celebrating her every day, also I’m terrible at gift giving, but this week is her birthday and this poem is for her. My rock, my safe place, my inspiration, the star of my family and anchor of my family tree for generations, I know already. (I also wrote her one, which I’ll give her on Wednesday)
Her eyes said all the words I needed to hear.
Only her, forever, our hearts tethered. A straight line.
Lost before, among the billions of souls, daily spinning
Let her be the one. Let me be found. 27 years of figuring it out so far
Yet somehow we synthesize still. Despite me.
Modest, Multitalented, Matter-of-fact
Ornery, Overcomer, Ocean
Maternal, Momentous, Mosaic
Knowledgeable, Keen, Kaleidoscopic
Accomplished, Attentive, Anchoring
Treasured, Tenacious, Tapestried
Kenna, you have shared encompassing word choices – ocean, mosaic, kaleidoscopic. My favorite is tapestried. Women weave bits and pieces together, both of themselves and for others.
Kenna, beautiful! I so love the words you have chosen. Like Jennifer, those standouts–ocean and mosaic–metaphors to help us get to know this special Mom. So beautiful!
Wow Kenna this is so great! Mothers are truly amazing people, very inspirational and loving! I love this acrostic and the words you chose to describe your mom!
Anna,
Thanks you for hosting and leading us in celebrating the women in our lives. I may come back to your prompt later to write about my mom, grandmothers and aunts. Or my niece. Today I wrote a poem to give to a friend whose birthday party I just attended.
I had trouble picking just one favorite line from your family member’s many admirable qualities. The last three lines especially resonated with my family’s values:
——————————————————————–
An Early Set
She leans to the left to start her set
White birds fly across her guitar’s neck
Both parents proudly video
Her people are here
Friends, former students, colleagues, bosses
a guy who used to run an open mic at the now defunct Giddyup
come through the door by the stage
Kaitlin’s boyfriend David wears Levi’s
new enough to still be a uniform dark blue
Jeanne’s husband Lou wears a jaunty tan hat
Jamie’s partner Collins comes in looking a bit sweaty
harried from finding parking for their truck
A student that I don’t recognize
asks Jamie and me if we remember her
giving us both a hug
of course, I say
texting Sarah later to find out her name
Sarah sings songs she wrote
about nibbling nails to nothing
about waiting
about IDKWIJD
about her grandmother’s always open garage sale
Everything Must Go
even her
Sarah sings about a baby’s favorite jellyfish
a lullaby she wrote for her neighbor’s baby
his mom stands in the back
holding him
face out
toward Sarah
After her set
I step outside
for a quick visit with our favorite boss
Stepping back in
To say goodbye to Sarah
Who gives me a fierce hug
Please,can I be there with you…please?What a memory you have give us…
Ah, happy birthday to your friend! What a joy it will be to give this poem to her. I love that. And like Gayle said, I’d like to be there too to hear all the songs.
Thank you for hosting, Anna! You baby sister sounds like an amazing woman. I thought about many special women in my life and decided to write about my daughters.
My Daughters
Determined in their own distinct ways, they move through the world with confidence.
Always curious, they ask the kinds of questions that open doors to people and their hearts.
Unfailingly loyal, they show up for others with a readiness that feels like haven.
Gifted, they carry a natural grace that makes kindness look effortless.
Humor helps them turn both ordinary and challenging moments into laughter.
Thoughtful, they reflect deeply and act intentionally to understand what’s around them.
Eager for adventure, they leap into new experiences without fear.
Resilient, they navigate challenges with logic, compassion, and a growing maturity.
Shining in their own orbits, they are two suns illuminating my world daily.
Leilya, I love how the poem begins and ends with their differences, distinct and in their own orbits, but the middle lines celebrate the rich and wonderful qualities that they share. Lovely poem for your lovely daughters.
Leilya,
I am so moved by these two lines:
So lovely.
Leilya, congratulations your daughters are phenomenal,
“Shining in their own orbits, they are two suns illuminating my world daily.”
This line…”Shining in their own orbits, they are two suns illuminating my world daily”. My daughters, as well…
Leilya, your daughters sound wonderful! I, of course, love the line “Humor helps them turn both ordinary and challenging moments into laughter.” Thank you for crafting and sharing this beautiful tribute!
Here is the woman,
Embodied, full fleshed
As the total incarnate,
The complete manifestation of all my
Heavenly dreams and desires
(Even her moniker is
Replete with passion and heat).
Possible title for this acrostic: “A Love Poem That She Would (Probably) Appreciate but Would (Could?) Have Issue with the Second Line and Would (Definitely) Remind Me That I Haven’t Stepped into a Church in a Very Long, Long Time, Which Undercuts That Sentiment a Bit and Maybe Get Rid of ‘Moniker’ Because It’s Unduly Pretentious to Which I Would (Absolutely) Agree with Her (Except for the Second Line Thing, Where I Intentionally Left Off the Comma to Help Clarify the Meaning That ‘Full Fleshed’ Modifies the Incarnation of My ‘Dreams and Desires’ Not, You Know, Her Her, Not Her Literal Embodiment)”
___________________________________________
Thank you, Anna, for your mentor poem and for giving us time and space to celebrate the women in our lives! For my offering, I’m still workshopping the title, lol.
Scott–what would we do without your glorious side comments!? The poem was great–the explanation perhaps a BIT overlong! Love it!
Scott, your poem and commentary articulate so well why so many of us have remained in this group. We can think, write, reflect, comment, and TELL THE TRUTH. So, your poems and commentary show the power of punctuation in conveying our thinking and writing the truth. Keep up the good work! But all that CAPITALIZATION!!! What does that convey? 🙂
Scott, what a sweet love note to your wife. Your after-poem is another kind of poem and deserves some praise too!
Oh, my gosh, Scott. Heather must have a lot of fun living with you and your titles! So, so fun!
…When I tell the kids that the title is just as important as the poem.
HA! Love the title! I can relate to these sentiments to my perfect companion as well. Thanks Scott.
Strong Women
I come from strong women.
Small women with sturdy bones and sturdy beliefs.
Women who were meant to live long lives.
Practical women who did what must be done, whatever it was.
Women who outlived their husbands,
whose lives did not change all that much
when they were alone.
I see you in the woman I have become.
Not small like you, but sturdy nonetheless.
I look at my life–a good one so far. I have been lucky.
But I worry about when I, too, will be alone,
my life going forward
without much change.
How did you do it?
How will I grow old alone?
Gayle Sands
3-21-26
Gayle, I love the tribute to strong women in your life. This line tells so much – “I see you in the woman I have become” and makes me think you lived up to your strong women examples. Your final two questions are often on my mind when I think about my Mom.
Gayle, wow, you have given so much here, and the questions…Your poem has me wondering too. The “practical women who did what must be done, whatever it was” are the ones in my family that I remember and celebrate too. That line has so much truth.
Gayle, such a bold wondering and one we all wonder. I like the structure and format of your poem – resembling a where I’m From poem but in your own unique style.
Gayle, your poem paints a picture of the women as resilient. I love how you both see yourself in their stories and honor your concerns about how they did what they did. The whole growing old alone idea is one I too am struggling with as I age.
Gayle, I love the strength in this! And also the truth and hard questioning of the end: “How did you do it? / How will I grow old alone?” Thanks for articulating this!
wonderfully done, Gayle. This makes me hold my breath, it sits heavy one my chest, but in a satisfying way.
Fading Sapphire
Crimson cloud of sapphire sea,
Forever, swirling winds of greenery,
Leopards of gold and black,
Hounds with gray saddlebacks,
Vines with suckles,
Primates with knuckles,
Dirt rich with worms and death,
All together we stand by ourselves.
Amazed at her fading creations,
But the fade has no stagnation.
Air crisp as glacier sips,
Tree giants, one hundred leaps to their tips.
Free as a Cherokee scream,
Over, untouched, in and out, and in between,
Fresh cedar upon a newborn’s lips,
Cool moss upon an elder’s hips.
Barefoot energy from her skin,
Blackberry juice shared with kin.
All she has to offer with our humility,
We refuse her gift diligently.
Enough for all she gives,
Greed grieves for one to live.
On one side we dispose,
While others starve without clothes.
One cannot give,
So many do not live.
Her skin sprouts with fertility,
So many do not remember commonality.
Hands in darkened rot,
Plant her seed, we shall not.
Our hands slap her kiss,
Barefoot connections we dismiss.
Mother your beauty has been dismantled by Father time,
Disobedient, unruly are your Children of Crime.
Knock down the hundred-foot oak,
Concrete your skin with asphalt cloaks.
Square the yards with homemade sod,
Pray in shopping malls to digital gods.
Round up beautiful weeds,
Spray bugs, trash seeds.
Convenience of your children, scarred your skin,
We cannot erase materialistic sin.
What can we do?
To return the sky crystal blue?
We must innovate and create,
Father time cannot wait.
We must educate,
Our youth on the gifts you generate.
With this prayer today,
Your children shall say:
“Mother Earth of all living,
Within you is all giving,
Protect us and we you,
Connect us -barefoot true.
Your fading stops today,
We hold hands and change our ways.
One commitment from each,
Echo this prayer to reach,
All four directions of your heart,
For each person must signal the start,
Fresh as a Himalayan breeze,
cleanse the Crimson from the Sapphire seas.”
– Boxer
Boxer, this was a sparkling gem of a poem. So much to love in this; thanks for the reminder. <3
Boxer–wow!
The words swirled around me as I read. Wow.
Clayton, I ditto the commendations for your poem honoring Mother Earth. Once I see what others have said, I like to look for something else special about the writing. This is another powerful element of your structure. The use of paradox.
“All together we stand by ourselves”
Thanks for showing ways we can show concisely using phrases that seem to contradict themselves.
I also appreciate your closing “prayer” “Cleanse the Crimson from the Sapphire seas.” I believe our Creator answers prayer and just pray that it during our lifetime, if not during this presidency.
Boxer, this is a gift of a poem today. Thank you! What struck me most is how you shift between awe and grief, beauty and responsibility. You remind us what’s precious about Mother Earth. I love the rich imagery, especially in the beginning: “crimson cloud,” “sapphire sea,” “leopards of gold and black.” The metaphor of “fading sapphire” makes me think of Earth as a jewel losing its shine from overuse/abuse. It also makes me think about my responsibility. What can I do to keep this sapphire from fading?
Last night, Dan and I watched the film Lee about Lee Miller and the photos she took during WWII, focusing on The Holocaust (archive).
LEE
Like a body leaning away from its shadow, you stepped out of the frame to behind the lens.
Every shot toward a way of seeing the women hanging stockings on the front, the Blitz burning a script into negatives.
Even the contrived bathtub scene, your body forever stained by memory–defiant
MILLER
Muse, they called you until you flipped the name to Gorgon; you wouldn’t look away.
In Paris, light bent the people you loved while you were away, unrecognizable
London betrayed truth, refusing to print scenes from Warsaw, from Birkenau.
Later, the silence came gathering attic dust, thousands of truths waiting to be remembered.
Every frame a reckoning, a refusal to be reduced, frames curved from your attempt to forget.
Remains of a life: fierce, fractured, unhidden at last—an archive of seeing, where trauma and art lean in to speak.
Thanks, Sarah, for reminding us of the power of pictures to speak out poems and for poems to paint pictures of the woman who took them. Well-balanced use of the genre style of acrostic poem and Plutarch’s claim about poetry and pictures. This would be a provocative poem to share in those new Holocaust History classes being taught more realistically! May I share it?
“you wouldn’t look away”…I am afraid too many people are looking away these days. We need more Lee Millers in our lives.
What a beautiful, condensed look at this incredible woman. Taking ideas learned through a movie, a book, a life and turning them into verse is so powerful. Often, acrostic poems look, sound, and feel contrived, but not this one!
Thanks for reminding me about Lee Miller. Her eye on the world and framing truth is needed
Perfect subject, Sarah. Wow, you have added details that make us want to learn more about Lee Miller. And that last phrase, “an archive of seeing, where trauma and are lean in to speak.” I’m sure she would be proud of the legacy that she left with the Holocaust photos. Thank you for the link to see some of her work.
Sarah, you recreated a powerful image of Lee Miller in this poem. Every line here tells a story. I am particularly drawn to the final lines in the first and last names–so much of sobering power.
Sarah, Thank you for sharing this poem (and the link) about this woman who captured images that have lived on and shaped thinking about the horrid events of her time. I find your line, “every frame a reckoning” a reminder of the power of small images and words to record history and shape the future.
Lovely prompt, Anna! Thank you for it!
All that I have become
Lies in her influence:
Like daughter, like mother.
In her heart lies
Electric courage.
Just one look
And I know what she thinks.
Not once has admiration for her
Eluded me,
Even when her heart has.
Vim and vigor
Emanate from her spirit, and
Rare is the day that she doesn’t
Arouse a laugh from me.
Really, now:
Does she ever have to leave?
Wendy, the words electric courage tell us so much about your mom’s strength and ability to connect. It is a powerful phrase that goes along with someone who can always make you laugh. Then you end with that last question of wondering how long you have her physical presence that leaves me asking the same question even if now, I am that mom,
I agree with Anita. Your choice of words gives energy to this poem. “Electric courage”. WOW.”Vim and vigor” further energize this poem. Thanks for being the cord that connects us to this lovely lady,
Wendy–these words:
“In her heart lies
Electric courage.”
I would love to know this woman!
Wendy, you are so fortunate to have a mother that makes you laugh every day. I like “electric courage.” I agree with your last line. I hope she never has to leave you. You are blessed.
Wendy, what a special daughter. I wonder if that magical line “Electric courage” would have come if this wasn’t an acrostic? Such a great thought. And those last two lines…perfection. I’m sure she won’t go far from you, even if miles separate.
Denise, you nailed it: it was about my daughter, Allie! ❤️🙂
Wendy, your poem could be about my Mom too. I like the word choices you make so intentionally, e.g., “vim and vigor” with alliteration or “emanate” and “eluded.” I wish moms would never leave ❤️
“All that I have become
Lies in her influence:” I chose these two lines, as it reminds me of my role. What a beautifully written tribute to an amazing mother.
centered in, economic, yet touching. Well done!
her mouth only spoke
encouragement, praise, support-
most loving mother
Love this haiku, Mo!
Mo, those few words are an amazing tribute to your mom. I would be honored to be remembered that way.
Mo, it doesn’t take many words for you to epitomize this special mother. Thanks for showing how a concise choice of words can expand and explain and even “expose” what we are thinking.
Mo-so quiet; so full of love.
Ah, Mo, how special. To capture so much of your loving mother in a haiku is a real skill. You have done it. So beautiful.
This mother’s haiku is quite relatable. I was just talking to my sisters about our Mom this morning.
What a great prompt, Anna!
I decided to do a little research and pondering to pull together an acrostic that captures my maternal grandmother, whose last name was Tolbert, and my paternal grandmother, whose last name was Hutchison. They came from VASTLY different backgrounds.
Grandmothers
Terrifyingly stern
Of the South and beyond proud of it
Life of privilege, driven by status
Beholden by Methodist values
Endured tragedy after tragedy
Reminisced regularly with fellow widows
Teacher of second graders for decades
Homey and kind
Unceasingly charitable
Tethered to her father/uncle
Catholicism at her core
Helped the hobos by offering meals
Irish traits running through her veins
Simple in every way
Only left home for mass
Never got to experience a daughter
~Susan Ahlbrand
21 March 2026
Susan,
I love your historical approach to the prompt. Your stanzas paint the picture of 2 very different experiences, which really brings to mind for me the way that our family histories show up in us and generations forward.
Each of the lines offer another detail that are pieces of these women and of your family history. Thanks for sharing this!
Susan,
Wow! What a fascinating and complex history you paint here, in this short space. Beautiful, engaging poem!
Susan, I love the stark differences in these women at the core of your family and realize your parents must have picked and chosen pieces of their lives to blend into your family. I think these differences are probably true in so many families where children emerge respecting but in a new world. You got me thinking,
I love this line—“Terrifyingly stern”—thank you for letting her be fully herself, unsoftened.
Susan–A brief and beautiful history. I feel I know her!
Such an interesting take on this poem, Susan. I’m guessing, like my experience, you probably called them Grandma Tolbert and Grandma Hutchison. So many details about their lives. “Terrifyingly stern” is something to begin with, isn’t it? I actually had a grandma like that too.
Susan,
Love reading of the contrasts in their personalities, beliefs, and experiences.
Your poem and prompt are strong examples and reasons why we should honor those women in our lives. There are many women I could write about as I am surrounded by strong women who go after what they want and live with their head high. This is a poem about my sister-in-law who was my model for being a mother, who left us too soon, but whose quiet strength is still a motivating force. She really had only one request from me and to be honest I would have done it anyway.
Because if you can be there, I will be forever grateful she said realizing her last grandchild would
Arrive before they returned that spring and knowing I would love on them all in
Real life until she could be physically present might have been a prophetic wish
Because her timeline was shorter than any of us could have imagined
And the love already was established allowing for someone to be there anyway
Representing special dresses, concerts, graduations
And remembering we need someone who cares in the background, as I remember the day she said
Just take care of that baby as I struggled with my own crying one years earlier
And she added, remember these days will fly past and you will wish them back, adding again and again
No problem with every question, request, while showing me mostly with
Examples like how to butterfly a wound and love on your child no matter what
Because if you can be there—this stays with me, thank you for honoring her love, steady, guiding, present even now, always.
Anita, your poem is a tear-jerker for sad and glad reasons. Sad that you lost this woman and glad that you have such powerful memories of who she was and the love she left, This is the line that challenges and captures that for me.
And remembering we need someone who cares in the background, as I remember the day she said
Thanks for sharing.
“And she added, remember these days will fly past and you will wish them back”
Truth…beautifully said
I’m so sorry you lost Barbara Jane so early. What a blessing that you could be there for her grandbaby. Peace.
Anita,
I’m so moved by this poem of mothering and mentoring. Moved to full on tears.
I can feel the love. Her love for you, your love for her, your love for her grandchildren.
Anita, I find this poem especially special because it is your sister-in-law. What a brave and wise woman she was. This line is so strong, “love on your child no matter what”
Beautiful! Epic, yet intimate. Thank you for sharing Anita. You make it easy for us to feel some of what you felt , but its is also obvious we could never quite feel exactly to the depths that you have specifically with your sister in law. Thank you for inviting us to this place and this story.
Greetings, Anna! Thank you for your gorgeous poem/image and for the invitation to honor women! Your sister must feel especially loved and honored. https://s.w.org/images/core/emoji/17.0.2/svg/1f49a.svg
I have been heartbroken over the recent news regarding Dolores Huerta’s abuse by Chavez. But I’m even more infuriated by negative and unsupportive comments that always pop up when a woman reports abuse years later.
Women Who Wait
In Honor of Dolores Huerta and all women who wait
Women who wait to report
how men have harmed them, need
your understanding and care, not
Why are you just now speaking up
or accusations of greed and revenge
many live in fear, knowing one
evil man can destroy everything
not considering how her story, her truth
will eat her alive if swallowed forever
a woman’s suffering at the hands of heinous men
is humanity’s rotting from
the core of its origin
©Stacey L. Joy, 3/21/26
Stacey! Truth. These lines, “her truth will eat her alive if swallowed forever” could not be more perfectly crafted. These will sit with me, especially while being forced to swallow the cover up of abuse again and again. Wow!
Stacey,
Your poem feels extremely necessary at this moment that we are living through. The line that is really hitting me is her “truth will eat her alive if swallowed forever” because you really capture the impossibility of the situation, the “caughtness” of it.
Stacey,
Clearly, this was an inspired poem, passionately written! I agree that the news was heartbreaking, and it couldn’t be clearer why those women felt compelled to suppress their truth. This was a lovely tribute to them.
Stacey, you poem is a necessary reminder that this kind of abuse is widespread and across many more aspects of our society than most of us realized. It is very hard to stand up to someone more powerful especially if they are respected in society. Abuse in homes, schools, workplaces, backrooms, boardrooms, hotel rooms, dressing rooms is still just abuse and the only possible way to stop it in the future is to talk when someone feels safe(r) and believes their voice will matter.
That heartbreak and anger come through so clearly here—it feels like both a witness and a refusal to let harm be minimized. I’m really glad you shared this.
—“her story, her truth / will eat her alive if swallowed forever”—thank you for speaking to the cost of silence.
DITTO, Joy, what others have already said. You are doing for so many what can can’t or couldn’t do themselves. TELLING THE TRUTH in public.
Your poem is one that should be shared widely foir woman to know and for men to know that we know,
Thanks for sharing the graphic, too.
Stacy–you speak sad truth here. I wish we could say that it will not happen to the women of the future (and the now).
Stacey, thanks for speaking out about this. You must have been hearing the same report that I heard from Delores Huerta who never spoke out about being raped by Chavez because it would have hurt the whole Farm Workers movement which she thought was more important.
I must salute the courage of women!
Thank you, Stacey, for speaking up in support of the survivors. Those last three lines, wow! So powerfully written. Truth! The rotting core of its origin. Wow.
Stacey, the layers of truth are rich here – including the disappointment of discovering she was hurt by one we so often champion for his efforts with grape growers. I’m glad you wrote this poem – I had no idea of the situation with her. As always, love your choice of words.
Thank you, Stacey, for writing
Thank you Anna, for the opportunity to celebrate my mother.
Join me celebrate Mama, a
Unique lady who
Lit up every gathering, her
Intelligent nature made her
Able to switch from teaching to
Nurturing her family till
Another career surfaced
Elegant, she shone
Selfless, she embraced all
Indeed she lived a joyful life.
Juliette, what a beautiful tribute to your Mama. I love the line “lit up every gathering.” It speaks of her energy and love. I can envision her elegance and selflessness throughout every line.
Juliette, this was just lovely! Beautiful words to describe the beautiful woman that you paint with them!
I love this—“Able to switch from teaching to / Nurturing her family”—thank you for honoring the fullness of her care.
Juliette–that last stanza. A wish for us all…
Juliette, such a sweet mother to celebrate here. I’m struck by the wording in the Esi stanza. So beautiful and rhythmic. She sounds amazing.
Juliette, I am celebrating your Mom with you. She sounds like an amazing woman, loving and caring, intelligent and generous.
Juliette,
Thank you for sharing this beautiful tribute to your mom.
These lines especially moved me:
Thanks Anna for starting out our time together in March. This is about my departed best friend from my age of five.
Lately I have been thinking of you
As always missing you
Unspoiled even after an abusive father
Rebellious against the rules
Investigating our neighborhood, climbing over fences, picking figs
Eating our finds and giggling behind a shrub
Jewish heritage, you said. What was that?
Overjoyed to know it didn’t matter.
Oh, Susan, what a tribute to Laurie Jo. She sounds like a keeper, so glad you got to be her friend, and that last stanza says a lot about her easygoing nature.
Susan, this is an adventure of a poem. All those actions – the investigating, the climbing, the giggling! What a treasure of a friendship you had. I hope she continued to stay unspoiled, even with all the tribulations life brings.
Susan, loved this! The imagery from your youth was so joyful, and you painted an engaging picture of your friend: so sorry that you lost her.
This is so tender—it carries the kind of friendship that never really leaves, just changes form. I keep coming back to “Investigating our neighborhood… giggling behind a shrub”—that feeling of being wild and safe at the same time, together. Thank you for sharing her with us like this, for letting us see her unspoiled spirit and the way your bond held curiosity, rebellion, and love so lightly. And that last moment—“Overjoyed to know it didn’t matter”—it just stays. I am pondering this last line a bit.
Susan–I lost my “Laurie” this year. Your poem resonates in my heart.
I love this Susan, especially after the final couplet. I am sorry for your loss and can’t help wishing there were more Laurie Jo’s in the world.
Susan, thank you for sharing your friend with us today! There is so much tenderness and nostalgia in your poem. It reminds me of my childhood and my friends. That final line is so distinct in noting what’s not/important.
Susan,
I love these last four lines and how they move from the “risky” adventures of girlhood to safety of acceptance. Beautiful.
So sorry for your loss of Laurie Jo.
Susan, I would love to climb over fences with your dear friend. I can see why you were friends for such a long time. I am sure she’s close to you in spirit everyday.
Hugs.
Anna, what a joy to be here this March, celebrating women’s history month with you and all these Open Write friends. Thank you for telling us about Veronica. She is lovely! I just spent a week with my strong daughter in Minneapolis, so she is definitely still on my mind.
Kindness in my precious prodigy
Accentuates her life of offering
To the world—incomparable treasure.
How did I get to become her
Ever-grateful mother? She lives
Resilience and responsibility
In difficulty circumstances, and she
Never ceases to learn deep
Expanses she had yet to know were hers.
Listener and question asker–
Open and bold in uphill conversations.
In this world at war,
She brings love and hope.
Denise, I’m sensing a thread of resilient and hopeful women in our tributes today, despite this “world at war.” Thankfully, we are connected to them, they ground us and inform us. And your question – how did I get to become her ever-grateful mother – shows just how deep that connection lies and is founded upon. Beautiful.
Denise, I could relate to your poem today, as I wrote one about my daughter, too! I loved the line:
“Open and bold in uphill conversations.”
So cleverly worded: “uphill conversations.” Your love for her shines through in this!
Denise,
It feels like you’re still standing in the glow of being with her. I keep returning to “How did I get to become her / Ever-grateful mother?”—that mix of wonder and humility that only comes from loving someone so deeply. Thank you for sharing her with us like this, for letting us see not just her strength but her curiosity, her listening, her way of meeting the world with both courage and care. And that closing—“In this world at war, / She brings love and hope”—it just lingers. It feels like both a blessing and a truth you’ve helped grow. You’ve helped grow.
Sarah
Denise, I have a strong daughter named Katherine. Mine, like yours, is resilient and responsible, knocking motherhood out of the ballpark.
Denise, I think of Katherine and am glad she is strong and resilient. Just like her mother! We need more who bring love and hope in times of war.
Denise, clearly there is a strong familiar thread running through your family! Your poem screams of the love and respect you have for your daughter and well as her promise for “love and hope>’ Who could ask for more?
Denise,
What a lovely tribute to your daughter.
I can feel the deep love and admiration.
Hi Denise,
Thank you for introducing us to your daughter. I think she would be the kind of person I would want in my closest circle. We need more strong women who aren’t afraid of the hard conversations and obstacles on our paths. Love this so much!
I love this tribute so much, Denise! “Open and bold in uphill conversations. / In this world at war, / She brings love and hope.” So good! Thank you for sharing Katherine with us!
Good morning Anna ~ thanks for hosting and giving me moment to spend with my mother!
Helen Grace ~ I Miss You Mom
Housewife? I’m not married to a house, she’d say when
Every other mother worked outside the home but she chose to stay, singing (this is true)
as she folded laundry and cooked because she
Loved her family, her children and most all her beloved Louie
Except when she fried eggplant, Louie’s favorite, that man, that man she’d say.
Not that she’d admit that, but we kids knew, she did Not like frying eggplant.
Gone now, I still her everywhere, mostly in the kitchen, not always cooking, sometimes
sitting at the
Round formica table, Reading, saying the Rosary or writing a poem but
Always willing to stop and listen to a school day story, or a work day story, Always
Caring for her family so that
Even now, after so many years gone, I can still hear her saying that man, that man
as she stands at the stove frying Eggplant,
What a lovely tribute to Helen Grace. I love the image of her frying eggplant and saying “that man, that man.” I can remember someone else saying she was not married to a house. My mom?
Ann, she sounds like a beautiful free spirit. I should have read yours before I wrote mine. You have shown us who she is instead of told us. She has a beautiful name too. Thank you for this!
Ann, how powerful your mother was (and is) – she passed that right along to you – and what a beautiful way to show her love of family. I can envision my grandmother in many of these lines – choosing to live grounded in love and sharing that in every way possible.
Anne,
This feels like stepping right into the kitchen with her—the music, the humor, the love threaded through every small moment. I keep coming back to “I’m not married to a house”—what a line, full of wit and quiet defiance, holding her dignity and choice so clearly. Thank you for sharing her this way, in all her texture—the singing, the storytelling, even the eggplant she didn’t quite love but made anyway. And that refrain—“that man, that man”—it lingers like a voice that never really left, still warm, still present, still yours.
Sarah
Oh, I can smell the eggplant frying!
Love this. You paint a picture for us. The eggplant!
Your mom comes to life in this poem rich with details!
Ann, so beautiful. You invited me to your house to visit with your mother, signing, cooking, folding laundry. The “frying eggplant” act is so skillfully carried through the poem. Thank you!
Ann,
I love the specificity of your Mom’s dialogue.
You pull us right into her kitchen, showing us many scenes of love, especially the memorable frying of eggplant.
Beautiful poem, Ann! I loved the personality you were able to add to your poem about your mother. You have captured the essence of her well!
I absolutely adore all of your poem’s visual delights! But there was something deeply caring in the way she stopped to listen. I think that is what makes the best parents, those who stop to listen. That’s what I miss so much. My mom and I talked everyday, multiple times a day and sometimes I wish for one more phone call.
Thank you, Ann.
What a beautiful name…just gorgeous. I love how she’s in the kitchen still. Wonderful. That detail about the eggplant…so specific and yet, I can picture it too.
Thanks for hosting with a fairly easy prompt on this first Saturday of spring. I have come to a place in my grief of my mother’s death to appreciate who she was, before Alzheimer’s stole her from me.
Dedicated to the church
Open hearted
Teacher
Giving smiles through the doorway
Inviting southern drawl
Best friend
Sympathetic listener
Optimistic
Never leaving me
Margaret, I’m glad you have come to a place to remember your mother before Alzheimers stole her from you. Having spent the morning thinking of my own mother, your words really spoke to me, especially the last line,
Margaret, it is a beautiful gift that you have come to the place where you can remember this version of who your mother was–who she really was before the Alzheimer’s. So many winsome and lovely qualities you have highlighted here. I can almost hear her southern drawl as she asks sympathetic questions of someone she is listening to. Wonderful photo too.
Margaret,
You honored your mom with love and care. I hope you find the Ethical ELA space as comforting as I do every time my grief infuses itself into a poem.
❤️
Margaret–the thief is cruel. I’m glad you can remember the good times.
Margaret,
Your last line resonates so:
I feel the same way about my mom even as I miss her so every day.
Love the beautiful photo of generations sitting together.
Margaret, Alzheimer’s is an ugly disease, but you have captured who your mother is beautifully! Your piece serves as a just a glimpse of who she was!
What a beautiful relationship to have with your mother. You are fortunate…and how terribly you must miss her. I love how Dorothy becomes Dot. My grandfather called my grandmother Dot.
Good morning, Anna, and thank you for hosting us today! I’ve been writing Cento poems this month, so here is my poem today with lines taken from Joy Harjo’s poems that mentions a woman.
Night Sky
From the moon we all look the same
When the earth makes a particularly hard turn
When embers from the sacred middle are climbing out the other side of stars
Wings of night sky
Or is it the shadow of a woman on the run?
Lines taken from the poems, in this order: Promise; The Song of the House in the House; The Place the Musician Became a Bear; The Dawn Appears with Butterflies; Witness
Kim, one has to love a Joy Harjo cento. So many beautiful images, like “embers from the sacred middle” and “wings of night sky.” Thanks for sharing.
Kim, I love how pieces of other writing become their own story when rephrased – much like what happens with grandmothers to mothers to daughters. We take parts and become more. This is beautiful.
Hi Kim,
When I read the first line, I immediately felt the uplifting of humanity, finally feeling unity that we desperately need.
The middle is like a vivid dream. Love the movement that feels transformative.
Excellent choices from Joy Harjo! 💗
Love this! “Wings of night sky”…
Wow. This is sharp, bold, and so very, very human.
Wow! It’s open-write weekend. Yay! Anna, what a fun prompt. You really prompted my memory muscles to think of details about my grandmother. That in itself, was sweet and special. I’m in love with your sister’s second name, Emerald. What a colorful and beautiful name. You’ve honored her in such a loving way with beautiful descriptors. What a gift this acrostic is for her.
Did all things with great love
Oven always full of special treats
Resolved to let others shine
Offering help before advice
Though she grew up without her mom
Her mothering was all tender heart.
Yarn and knitting needles made sweater after sweater
My grandma, who fed me storybooks
And called me by my first and middle name
Earned family fame but never claimed the glory
Linda, what a treat to be fed storybooks! That’s rich imagery, and I can feel the warmth of the sweater after sweater, like a grandmotherly hug no matter where you wore it.
Oh how I loved the line “fed me story books”, just lovely Linda! You’ve made her tender heart come alive💕
Oh, she was a gem, Linda. So beautiful are you memories of this sweet Dorothy Mae. She was humble and giving. “Her mothering was all tender heart” even though, she had to grow up without hers, and “fed me storybooks” are some of my favorite images.
Linda, that selflessness that grandmothers (and mothers, and daughters) share with us is, I think, our greatest example of love (a “great love”). I love that she fed you storybooks – how beautifully phrased. So glad you were able to share time with her.
This moves me! I love your grandma’s humility and care. She must have been a treasure.
This poem tells so much in so few lines. My mother was Dorothy, such an old name. And the double name is very southern. Lovely.
Linda,
There is so much love and sweetness in these lines:
Anna, what a beautiful tribute to your sister. I am sure she felt honored by your words and artwork.
Where would we be without
Our most vital origin?
Mothers begin us,
Enveloping every part of our existence,
Nurturing us into being.
This is lovely…so complete.
Mothers begin us……that is rich imagery right there! I see a womb, and then a wing that envelops and a wing that flies. As always, you capture the essence of the heart of the matter.
Right to the point Jennifer! amazing to think about ~ I particularly love you last line, nurturing us into being!
Beautiful, Jennifer. You went way back in our family line. I so love the thoughts you had this morning that birthed this poem. “Our most vital origin” reminded me of “our most vital organ”, and somehow it seems to fit. Thank you for this.
Yes, yes, yes! I have been thinking about my mom more than my usual, and I think it’s because she’s “enveloped in every part of my existence.”
💙
“Mothers begin us” touches my mother grandmother heart.
Jennifer,
Thank you for zooming out.
My mother certainly did this for me and my brother and I’m forever grateful.
Linger for a moment, for
Every time we whisper,
She reminds me to remember a
Life built together, woven in love;
I am forever wrapped in wonder –
Echoes of our early days, a song sung softly in tune
for my wife
Kevin
What a lucky lady. Linger is a beautiful word to begin…and tune, of course! Classic Kevin in all the good ways.
She will love this! Women have a way of wrapping us in wonder, and it sounds like you found a lifelong keeper.
Oh, Kevin, I love that you together are “a song sung softly in tune” So beautiful sounding, and the meaning is even better.
Kevin,
I love how beautiful your life is with your wife. You are in good hands and I am certain she is also.
Kevin, your wife is blessed to have you, so devoted. “We whisper” Here’s to many more years of whispering.
Kevin,
What a lovely piece dedicated to your wife! Through our reading, we can tell that you are totally enamored by her!