Welcome.VerseLove is Ethical ELA’s celebration of National Poetry Month each April—an invitation to write, read, and reflect together. New to VerseLove? Learn more: https://www.ethicalela.com/verselove
Our Host
Luke Bensing is a husband, father, musician, writer, and teacher. He lives in Valparaiso, IN and teaches 9th Grade English in Merrillville, IN. After working in the wrong vocation for nearly two decades, he earned his BA in English from Purdue University Northwest. (A first year teacher in his 40s) He went directly into the high school classroom to share his perspectives with students and attempt to apply his love of language and the importance of communication and critical thinking to future members and leaders of society.
Inspiration
In the high school I teach in, we have trimesters. One whole 12 week chunk is Composition Class. While we write throughout the year, we more heavily focus on writing throughout the middle trimester of Composition(it could be turning into Technical Writing to satisfy new state requirements, but I AM keeping poetry part of the curriculum regardless). I love to encourage reluctant writers “Don’t think. Write.” As Sean Connery’s character says in the movie Finding Forrester, which I show to my students,
”No thinking – that comes later. You must write your first draft with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is… to write, not to think!”
I rely on daily free writes similar to this to spur creative accidents that may or may not become something later. I love to use images to generate thoughts and articulate previously hidden pathways. Shoutout to my college professor, Dr. Russ Mayo for using similar prompts during my teacher training years.
Process
Another thing I tell my students that I love about poetry is the freedom from rules. Expression flowing without being held down by things like capitalization or punctuation or syntax. So there are no rules here, only a few suggestions.
Write whatever you want, I just ask that you
- pick an image here or from your phone and then
- use alliteration in your first line and your last line.
That’s it. The rest is completely up to you. Let’s see what amazing random poetic accidents we can create today.
Luke’s Poem
The majestic messiah and the mechanic’s Monte Carlo
Turning aside
Speaking to you, things you always knew
But kept behind
“When will you make a change?” “How fast were you going?”
Stuck below
On the ground, running, floating above asphalt
Never alone
They call this rebellion. Rebellion by degrees
Look above
Be brighter, be belligerent, be beautiful.
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.
Moonlit mist kissed stairs
Moonlit mist-kissed maples mark the midnight mood,
The school softens when the sun slips away—
hallways hushed, lockers no longer laughing open and shut,
no hurried heels hammering tile,
no chorus of chatter chasing the clock.
These steps—
so stubborn, so steep, so spiteful by day—
become something gentler at night.
They no longer mock my muscles or measure my breath,
but wait, quiet and patient,
as if they too are resting.
Lantern light lingers on leaves,
painting petals in warm gold,
and the air feels fuller, slower—
like the building itself is finally exhaling.
In daylight, it is a storm of schedules,
a blur of bells and bodies,
a place that pulls and pushes and presses.
But now—
it is a sanctuary stitched with shadows and stillness,
where even the climb feels contemplative.
Soft, silent, starlit steps soothe the spirit.
There’s such a beautiful shift here from tension to tenderness, the way the same stairs transform through light and time, and I love how the language itself mirrors that softening with its rhythm and sound. The alliteration threads the poem together like breath, and what lingers is that sense of how place can change with stillness, how what once pressed and strained can become something that steadies and restores.
I wonder what time zone you’re in, because the prompts go up around 4am U.S. Central (about 10am in Mauritius), and sometimes posting a bit earlier in your day or even the day before can help your poem be seen by more people, but truly it’s just good to have your voice here whenever it arrives. I just want to be sure you are having the experinece that feels good to you.
Sarah
Dear Sarah,
Thank you for your kind feedback.
I received the prompt at 1 p.m. I was the one who delayed the write up yesterday. I will try writing earlier.
No need to writeat any particular time. Do what feels good and when. Hugs.
Beautiful. Well done putting these vibrant words with this vibrant image!
I feel completely enveloped in the sound and imagery in this poem. The juxtaposition of the sounds you use to describe the stairs in the daytime and then at night are well crafted and place me in those different spaces–the noisy clanking and clatter of the school day and the soft contemplative space of ascending stairs at night. I really enjoyed reading this!
Luke, what a gift to your students when you decided to become a teacher. I loved reading what you shared about your journey and your classroom that thankfully includes poetry. I’m not sure why I couldn’t get into writing today. I sat and watched a quail kicking up dirt today, and thought of him not knowing what is going on in the world, just enjoying his dirt bath.
Desert dust in this dry domain
pause attains
Quail revels in his dirt shower
peace empower
Stays skittering and stirring
relief recurring
Denise,
I see that quail in your words and admire his “skittering and stirring.” I read him as a metaphor for the relief I’m hoping will come to us all.
Denise,
Desert. Qual. Dirt shower. Sktitering. Stirring. I feel the presence of life.
I love the way sound and rhythm carry this, how the internal rhyme and alliteration make the poem feel alive and in motion, like the quail itself moving through dust and air. There’s something quietly restorative here, too, and what stays with me is how you capture small, recurring moments of relief as their own kind of peace.
Sarah
Thanks Luke for this multi-layered prompt. I was actually teaching my writing education course today and I had them peak in on today’s prompt to get some ideas about how to direct writers (and students) towards a particular skill or writer move and, also, to get a sense of how to offer affirming feedback. So thank you for the good example today! I couldn’t help but think of the absolute crazy pants photo of the President, next to the Easter Bunny, discussing war plans during the annual Easter Egg Hunt.
Holy Hoppin’ Bonkers Bunnies
Bonny bunny, nothing’s funny,
big buffoon badly blunders
Blunderbuss, what’s the fuss,
Easter Bunny, Easter mess,
Bonny bunny, Easter bunny,
Easter bonnet, Easter bombing
Middle Eastern country, bomb it! bomb it!,
Crazy bastards, better watch it, watch it,
Straight to hell! There’ll be nothing like it.
Ollie Ollie Oxen Free,
they want more bombs, bombing spree!
Bombs for you and bombs for me,
Bomb the bridges and power plants,
bow down bunnies, sycophants,
Welcome all the kiddies, let them in,
Joseph Biden, autopen,
God is good, God is great,
God wants bombs to clean the slate,
Easter eggs, are there any left?
Polymarkets, Pete Hegseth,
Bonkers bunnies, 25th amendment,
Hurry up before nothing’s left.
Dave! Thank you! This is a genius poem. The tone is sharp as broken glass. The crazy rhyming, the alliteration, the sarcasm. I wish I’d written it. Brilliant. Susie
Dave, thank you for writing this. I had these thoughts on my mind, with much less cohesion, rhythm, and rhyme. The absurdity of our situation is perfectly summed up in your poem. Yes, to the 25th amendment NOW. I couldn’t write much today, but I do thank you for this.
Dave,
Come sit your clever bottom by me and share more brilliance. I love everything about your bunny-verse. Keep using the perfect pen to point out the putrid potus mess.
Inspired! The lilting meter and rhyme juxtaposed with the subject matter was perfect.
So good Dave. I appreciate and marvel at your dichotomy of silly sounding tone mixed into such righteous indignation and amazement. I think you very interestingly put into words, stacking with alliteration, rhyme, assonance, what so many of us are thinking and wishing we could put into words as well as you did here.
Cabrillo National Monument—San Diego, CA
Cracked crags crumbling into the Pacific
—no, those aren’t mounds of decay at its base;
they are claws scraping their way out to sea,
a monument to time’s creeping crawl.
Ooh, I’ve been there! I can see it all. I love your twist – not decay, but “claws scraping their way out to sea.” Beautiful!
Stunning imagery here, Kate! The hard c adds a striking sound and adds a visceral appeal to the crumbling crag. Love your last line! Gorgeous!
Beautiful imagery and alliteration. Now I have to look up this monument!
Kate,
I had to get a look at Cabrillo National Park and what a stunning location. I love your description of the eroded crags as “claws creeping their way out to sea” and the alliterative aspect of the poem gives it real continuity.
Love the fun whimsical prompt that invites word play!
Wild white wonderful
cauliflower vegetably
meandering through the school garden
growing to enormous proportions
wandering wistful wondering
Am I a veggie kids will embrace?
You can see my photo here: https://thinkingthroughmylens.com/2026/04/07/alliterative-play-npm26-7/
The poem might convince the kids.
I love your photo and the poem. I really like your first two lines. Great description!
Happy Easter, I Suppose
VerseLove Day 7: Alliterative First Line/Last Line Based on Image
The hulking hare with haunted eyes,
haggard and emaciated, he took the Easter photo gig.
No longer satiated by overgrown root vegetables
he set rabid eyes on the small brown child…
Unbeknownst to the ghastly rabbit,
the little brown boy was known for holding his own.
with a HiYah to the hare’s chin,
and Punch/Chop to the neck?
One false move toward the unimpressed boy, and
O’Hare would be a Broke Neck Bunny with a busted bottom lip.
Tracei Willis, April 7, 2026
Thanks for making me laugh out loud at the end of a very long day! And as a Chicagoan especially—love “O’Hare”!
LOL. “O’Hare” and “Broke Neck Bunny” and the “haunted eyes”! This was a lot of fun, Tracei!
Tracey,
Gotta put those rabid rabbits in their place. The subtext here is cringy against the backdrop of the Easter bunny w/ the pedo prez this year. Great job setting the scene. Love the O’Hare pun.
Tracei,
That last line is amazing! I can remember taking my oldest son to the Easter Bunny at the local mall and he was absolutely terrified of the strange creature that he was made to take a photo with. This poem brought that memory right back to me!
lol! Easter bunnies are honestly kind of terrifying. Loved this funny poem. 😆
I’m cracking up!!! This is perfection!!
ANOTHER DAY IN AMERICA
Today was Bomb-Into-O-Blivion-Day
according to the deranged;
deadlines, threats, roll-backs
spewing from the babbling buffoon,
with his adolescent little thumbs
on non-Truth-Soc,
children, women, mothers, grandparents,
and Iranian soldiers,
an “entire civilization,”
fodder for the slaughter;
congress mute,
no reining in the madness,
no clear reason for the war
beyond an obvious oil and money grab,
a diversion from depraved scandals,
a power ploy
by a reality-show harlequin,
anointed by the broken souls,
looking for a reason
for their inner rage.
It’s true,
aching men and women
fell to the con,
validated their slings and arrows;
looking for an empty vessel,
a place where they could pour
their slights, their seething
at missing out on the dream;
they could brew and stew
and blame Iran
and immigrants
and women
and basically
any external target
for their woes.
But one thing leads to another
and that empty vessel,
that soulless automaton,
bouncing from the strings
of puppet-masters
blusters the delusion that war,
state-sanctioned murder,
is somehow called for.
Bringing home what?
Affordable homes?
Cheaper food?
Heathcare?
Happy families?
Safety?
Bringing home
Shame, Chaos,
Bloodguilt and more broken bodies.
by Susie Morice© April 7, 2026
Susie,
You speak my heart. I’m outraged. The “babbling buffoon” is calling for genocide, the systemic killing of an entire culture. He destroys everything, and our country is his first target, Truth all over your poem: “fodder for the slaughter;” is what we all are, Meanwhile our empty soul of a congress posts AI Jesus and sends their kids to frolic w/ the pedophile on Easter. It’s sewage as policy. I’m so enraged and so appreciative of your words.
Dang am I impressed by your ability to write to the very now. The sound, pace, and detail of the opening stanza especially impress me.
So many parts of this hit hard and feel like right and justified indignation. I especially a hit by the “empty vessel” that is usually in my mind readyto be filled with something good, something better and more than it could be filled with on it’s own, but instead its “that soulless automaton,
bouncing from the strings
of puppet-masters” and just seems so, so true and tragic.
Dam, Susie, your poem is on fire! I love the diction, the lines pulled from the mad man’s mouth. I feel the anger burning beneath each line. Congress choosing to be mute is especially alarming! The end of your poem resonates. The poem’s questions need to be answered and accounted for because it is shameful! I seriously worry a nuclear war will start. Brilliant, powerful poem! You rock!
Susie,
We both went with the noun “buffoon” today to describe our dear leader. I am really pulled in by the stanza that is framed in rhetorical questions. And I really like how you use listing as a form of accumulation to hammer home the egregiousness of his actions.
OH, wow, Susie. This is a poem I wanted to write today, but I’ve been numb. Thank you for speaking truth. “congress mute” is the one that kills me. I hope they all of the enablers lose their jobs in November. “babbling buffoon” and “a reality-show harlequin” Amen. I’m sorry we have to write poems like this these days, but thank you for writing it.
Mic drop! I thought this was Glenda’s at first glance! Yes, yes, yes! I am so ashamed to be an American!
Thank you, Susie.
Luke, loved your poem…and this prompt. I checked out those pictures from NatGeo: stunning. A line from the first picture caught my eye, which I’m sharing below. The picture captured the Mahakumbh Mela, a religious festival held at the sacred confluence of the Ganges, Yamuna, and Saraswati Rivers. But the line made me also think of my own church, of which I’m a relatively new convert/attendee and made me think of how much I love it.
“Photographer George Steinmetz attended the 2025 event, along with more than 400 million Hindu pilgrims living in a temporary metropolis constructed for the occasion, to capture the perspective of what it feels like to be “a molecule in this moving mass.”
A molecule in this moving mass.
The pastor’s words ring through this thirsty throng.
From lips to hearts are words of wisdom passed
Imbibing them, we listen and grow strong.
Congregants inspired by the Word
Heads bowed in prayer and hands grip sacred books.
Delivered message is by masses heard:
We look for guidance to our Pastor Brooks.
We lean on those around us for our strength
In troubled times, we hold to God above
And pray for peace with silent pleas at length
Desiring not the lion but the dove.
Though we may seem alone, we are all one,
And in our mass are mighty actions done.
Thank you, Wendy for this solemn yet triumphant picture of unity and faith amidst “troubled times”. Great work
You’ve done it all in this poem, Wendy- alliteration, imagery, rhyming, rhythm, and a moving narrative to boot. Well done!
Thanks for this prompt, Luke. I appreciated the challenge of alliteration as a way to process today. From your piece, I was struck by the questions and then the repetition of “rebellion” as it made me think of different ways we can “be,” echoed by your alliteration in the last line.
the senate sleeps
while an unhinged power-hungry, pitiful pawn
spews steel-sung threats
of destroying a civilization
I went to bed with a touch of vertigo
a slight sensation of spinning
my 3am wakeup, still, like college days
without the fun first
The first article I clicked on this morning, modeling
how to create a bookmarks folder as my compers begin to
“wallow in complexity,” where they strive to problematize
perspectives they thought were perfect truth–
displayed images of Earth from Artemis,
a perfect feat of collaboration, connection, confidence:
I paused, taken by the floaty feeling of smallness
Worse than real vertigo is the vertigo that doesn’t capsize.
It would have been silly to take a day, so I white-knuckled it,
feeling slightly off-kilter, like a boat wobbling in a stream
still, we carry on
untethered, unsure, unfree
Brenna ,
Your poem reflects the uncertainty and off kilter crazy of the world perfectly. I feel the vertigo too. I appreciate the way you balanced the bad news with the good news of Artemis which brings hope.
“…a touch of vertigo / … / …like college days / without the fun first.” What a way to help us feel that disequilibrium AND emphasize its un-fun origin! And how well the two vertigos’ juxtaposition works—how preferable the “floaty feeling” that comes from wonder.
Carry on Brenna! In these days of feeling “untethered, unsure, unfree”, you processed your day (hopefully cathartically and healingly), for your readers as well.
Brenna, this was terrific! The last lines were surely meant to recall Fitzgerald, especially coupled with the nautical imagery in the stanza above. Loved the picture you painted here.
I’m so glad you white-knuckled through your day and are carrying on.
Luke,
Thank you for your fun prompt.
I love the energy and encouragement in your last lines.
“Be brighter, be belligerent, be beautiful”
The Mushroom Dream
Marvelous meaty mushrooms,
My son once dreamed to grow them.
So he bought a farm and built a grow room,
Where clusters bloom in humid gloom.
Some burst from tubs in a sealed cocoon,
Others sprout from logs beneath the moon,
Feeding on paper and coffee grounds—
Daybreaks on my son’s farm
Where Mushrooms abound
and my son dreamed spore-spun, secret dreams
Oh, what beautiful specificity. I love the last line “spore-spun, secret dreams.” The rhyming sounds compliment the alliteration perfectly. Really cool poem.
The thing that really hit me about this poem is that it is about your sons dreams. Maybe this is because I am thinking about my adult sons and their lives, one getting married in June, which possible brings on the sentimenality. I especially loved, and had to stop what I was doing and think, ponder, reflect on this beautiful line… “my son dreamed sport-spun, secret dreams”. Beautiful, Tammi. Thank you for this moment!
Tammy — This is totally fascinating! ‘shrooms! I love that he actually dreamed it and did it! The images of the multiple looks of the mushrooms as they grow is spot on and cool. Love the last line… fun wordsmithing. Susie
I love the details that came along with the alliteration. Your poem and your son’s mushrooms are both beautiful.
I love all the mushroom rhymes. My wife andI were just watching a vegan documentary as we are both vegetarian and on again off again vegan, but vegan for the last week or so. The doc had some great mushroom farmer images, and this is a great addition to that, for me.
Tammi,
How incredible! I love that you shared something that I’m sure I’ve never thought about in such great detail. Mushrooms are yummy! And so is your poem.🥰
Luke, I love the movement of your poem from “below” to the “asphalt” and then to “look above” – I can almost see a dashboard Jesus inside that Monte Carlo. Coincidentally, the photo I used for inspiration is of my son driving a car at Disneyland’s Autopia. Thanks for the great prompt today!
“Autopia”
Look at him go! Zigging zagging zipping
Around each curve.
The wind whips wisps of wild hair across his face.
There is nothing like the thrill one feels on the open road,
(or at least one with a big cement curb holding things together).
Never neglect the need for speed!
Shaun, the action of your poem is wild and fun. Love Zigging zagging zipping, and the wind whips wisps of wild hair. Your closing line says it all! Sometime speed is all we need!
Shaun,
The alliteration of this line —“The wind whips wisps of wild hair across his face” —works really well to create the feeling of racing.
The last line made me chuckle.
Shaun, I love the movement here! The alliteration groups of three in the first and the third lines add such a neat symmetry too. I can see your son behind the wheel, so excited.
This is such fun! “Never neglect the need for speed!” such a great message…especially for the little ones!
After a long day’s work pollinating plants…
Buzzing bumblebees
bounce along with the breeze, then
settle into sleep
©Stacey L. Joy, 4/7/26
I chose the beautiful flower with the bee resting peacefully. I’m in the middle of a convention so I don’t think I can respond today, but I will be back.
Stacey, I love the way you open with “buzzing bumblebees bounce’ The b sounds sing. The peace at the end is magical “settle into sleep”. What a refreshing shift! Gorgeous haiku!
Stacey,
I was struck by that photo as well. Your poem captures the image beautifully.
Stacey Joy, what a peaceful piece. I love how the first two lines are different from the last one, totally shifting the pace of the poem. “Buzzing” and “bounce” are so active; then the last line sounds like a whisper.
Stacey — You did dem bees proud! Buzzzzzzz! ZZZZzzzzzz. Cool. Love, Susie
Stacey, I love all those B’s turning into the soft S’s of “settle into sleep.” This is beautiful haiku that captures that Nat Geo image perfectly!
Luke thanks for hosting today. I love playing with sounds in a poem, so your prompt today is perfect.
Ripe, Ready, Ruined
Sunday’s sun searches for her elusive lover,
a busy bee,
buzz, buzz, buzzing between
wide-eyed black susans,
sassy sunflowers, sweet peas,
magnolia trees.
A sensual serenade orchestrates a new beat,
pollinating fragile flowers,
opened wide for the feasting,
before storm clouds
assimilate, annihilate, assault
the last, lovely sepal of serenity.
Barb Edler
7 April 2026
Oh, so many sounds, Barb. I loved reading this aloud and feeling all the buzz on my lips and tongue. But this photo, what a stark image that goes well with the ominous storm clouds. Wow.
Barb,
Tris is brilliant. First the sensual, sexual language exposing nature and flower orgasms. I know you didn’t use the word, but these descriptions are visceral. The shift to storm and your language choices here show a fine line between loving and abusing. All tantalizing images.
Oh my, Barb, your poem is begins with a nature full of life “buzz, buzz, buzzing” and we see flowers and trees until “storm clouds assimilate, annihilate, assault” – what a choice of alliterative verbs that increase the level of destruction of that “last, lovely sepal of serenity.” You depicted rich images throughout the poem! Alliteration really drives the poem and its message. Very skillfully crafted!
Barb, I can see the bumblebees in a state of euphoric thirst as they fly from petal to petal. It’s such a lovely spring poem, and the speed of the bees, first here and then there, is felt ….and heard, buzz buzz buzz
Barb,
You capture the calm before the storm perfectly and beautifully. Love the all the sounds and the progression from sun and flowers to devastation.
Hey Barb — You and Stacey were in sync today! Buzzzing through the ethicalela poetry pages. That picture… uffdah! Storm damage! Yikes! The big storms… those do, indeed, disrupt even the “last, lovely sepal of serenity.” LOvely word choices. Hugs, Susie
Barb,
This one is wild and full of sound effects and imagery. Enjoying the photo and the poetic rhythms. The entire poetic form really delivers much like the opening & ending.
Barb, what a lovely lyrical poem. So many fun sounds and then the storm that wreaks havoc. Wow!
Barb, I love that there are similarities in our poems even though we wrote from a different inspirational photo. I especially love your final two lines, powerful verbs and alliteration.
My last photo was on Easter morning, right after a yoga class I attended with my 26-year-old son. I have been thinking about my identity in this somewhat new empty nest phase. I say somewhat new because it is not getting any easier.
Flowing from downward-facing dog to forward fold,
I turn my head
to see half my heart,
my firstborn.
I never realized
how much of my identity
was that of a mother,
until they flew.
I was left floundering,
completely lost,
not knowing
who I was without them.
You are every mother. I feel this and mine are 8/10. How much of me was wrapped in the babyhood and how hard it is to let go and become another version of you!
My kids are still little – but my mom had such a hard time when my siblings & I moved out. I feel for you. It took her a while, but she has found so many good things to fill her life with – as I’m sure you will too. ❤️ I love the way the yoga class frames your poem.
Oh, adorable to see “firstborn” while moving into forward fold. Such movement there in a noticing that seems to have interrupted your flow for a very important discovery.
Oh, Heather, I love every bit of your poem. It is precious, concise and perfectly translates the emotions. Love the way you set the opening scene and build toward your self-reflection, the “floundering”. I feel every ounce of the empty nesting restructuring your life and trying to make it a good one. How lovely that you son went with you to the yoga class!
Heather,
Love the opening yoga image. This poem makes my heart ache as I know this feeling of being lost in an empty nest. I hope you have dogs to ease the emptiness.
Heather,
Same! I totally relate. My first born son is 27 and I am right there with you trying to figure things out. The way you utilized yoga as your springboard and grounding for your poem is just perfect.
Beautiful…you capture that always mom feeling! I absolutely love that first stanza–the way that long first line slows into the next three…almost like your heart is skipping a beat.
Lichen
I stare at the sand stone, stunned
by the minuscule forest on its surface
the rainbow of organisms working together, living
together, thriving where most life could not.
In another life, I would be this rock,
this home to millions,
and bathe in the sunlight
boasting my brilliant ballgown.
Very cool to think about a miniscule forest and then such a lovely image of a rainbow of organisms. Yes, let’s be that rock and home to millions. I bet you would take great care of it of them all.
Rachel, the focus of your poem is keen. I am captured by “minuscule forest” “the rainbow of organisms” “thriving where most life could not” and landing on “sunlight/boasting my brilliant ballgown.” Gorgeous poem!
Rachel,
I love the message conveyed in your poem of how this ecosystem works together. We can certainly learn from nature.
Ooooh! I love this sciency, metaphorical poem that celebrates lichen. “bathe in the sunlight boasting my brilliant ballgown”–yes!
ooh nice. Well done, Rachel, thank you for your contributions.
Oh, Rachel, I love your “brilliant ballgown” rock, as a home to millions. I can see those lichen covered ballgowns, and I don’t think I’ll look at another without thinking of your poem. Beautiful.
This is a true story. We got into the wrong tuk-tuk and had to switch. I paid both drivers.
Tuk-tuk Tango-Tangle
Two tuk-tuks tango-
tangled for two tourist-
travelers traversing town.
One ticked-off tuk-tuk
transporter took time to
tsk-tsk talk-tangle the
tuk-tuk who told tipsy-turvy
tousled trippers to get into
his curtained Grab-cab.
Truth: These trekkers oopsed!
Still, ticked tuk-tuk trounced, told
traverses to toss tushes into his tuk-tuk!
Moral: Take time to tab-tally
tuk-tuks trying to traffic-trade!
Glenda Funk
April 7, 2026
Glenda, a whirlwind of action, I can’t keep up. Quite fun and humorous though. Thanks!
So fun and twisty. I love the truth and moral stanzas.
Glenda, oh my, I love the emphasis on the t’s sounds. Your poem is energetic and full of rife tension and turbulence. Loved ‘the ‘tsk-tsk-tsk-talk-tangle”, “tipsy-turvy, and “toss tushes”. I love how your poem ends with a moral and your title is absolutely delightful. Glad you’re okay, but probably because you paid both drivers. I can’t help imagining how Ken and you were reacting to this whole episode. What an adventure!
Oh, such fun in the retelling/witnessing in this poem. I loved the fun with the “t’s” and hope you had fun crafting this poem. You may have wore out the key on your keyboard with this one. What an adventure of “tossed tushes.”
So many fun and percussive t’s! I feel as if I am there and it is quite a tussle. Fabulous poem, Glenda!
Glenda, a winner! And both tuk-tuk drivers won too because you paid them both. Amazing alliteration, a perfect Canva and poem, and you did this all while traveling? Wow – just wow!
Glenda, besides the fun story you told, you crafted a new level challenge of a tongue twister. I am not sure I know that many t-words, lol. Oh, the moral in the end turns your poem into a fable. So clever!
P.s.: You are welcome to come over for Pavlova. I saved six nests to make a fresh batch when someone shows up on a short notice 🥰
HA! Glenda, what a dandy tongue twister your created here with the tuk-tuks. Oh my… very fun to read and then read again out loud just to hear it all tukking along. I know you are having a great trip! Hugs, Susie
Oh, how I love the alliterative play with the sound bytes of tuk-tuks and all of the action within this poem.
Wow! I love your poems that tell stories and make me want to sit with you and hear all the details! So fun! So many /t/ sounds that make clear especially the tsk-tsk of learning a lesson about tuk-tuk fares.
I have lots of pictures on my phone of the two dogs we just adopted. They seem to be enjoying their new lives with us and may be slightly obsessed with me.
Dream Day
by Mo Daley 4/7/26
Precious pooches paw at me, pleading with me
begging for attention with their
raccoony schnauzer eyes—
hauntingly soulful eyes
that communicate silently,
“You know what we’ve been through.
Just give us what we want.
All we need is for you to look into our eyes
and pet us
for a couple of hours as we sit
TOGETHER
on this couch, okay?”
I cannot eat, drink, write, look at my phone,
until their demands are met,
a ridiculous ransom reverentially received.
Thank you Mo. I have a lot of pics of my dogs, but not any poems. I love “racoony” and “you know what we’ve been through”. You convey it all quite nicely.
Mo,
This is my life! Lucy uses my legs as a scratching post every morning until I rub her belly. Love to see friends held ransom by their pups, too.
Mo, you had me at “hauntingly soulful eyes”. I feel that wonderful dog mother love throughout your entire poem. Absolutely adore your last line. Enjoy your new precious pooches!
Oh, Mo! Yes. Ridiculous demands for undivided attention! And that’s how it all begins and continues….Love this description in your poem.
hahaha That “ridiculous ransom reverentially received” is understandable. How are you supposed to ignore “hauntingly soulful eyes”? Oh my, you have your hands full, Mo. Best of luck!
Mo — It is so fun to read the doggo-lovin’ common ground. I’m sitting here doing the exact same thing…except I have my laptop in my lap. Doggos and their knowing eyes…you captured that so perfectly. My fav line is the “ridiculous ranson…” Perfect! Hugs, Susie
You are hooked and you’ve hooked us too! So much alliterative play and imagery in your poem. What a fantastic bond with your new precious pets.
(again with my not following directions)
This is what it comes down to:
rest.
maybe you choose rest and worry
that you aren’t being productive
or you say “no thanks” to an event
and rest
sometimes it’s a hobby that needs re-
claiming or some
doodling in a new notebook
sometimes the body chooses rest for you
exhaustion, sickness, that down
in the dumps feeling
forcing a slowing down
what is it about life that lives
so quickly and resists rest?
Hey, you still snuck in alliteration in those last 2 lines. Even if it wasn’t inspired exactly by the “directions”, thank you for writing in this space today, David. Rest. A worthy word to ponder in poetic ponderances.
Resisting rest is the American way, but your poem so wisely points out its fallacious nature. Maybe one day we will be a proactive society- not a reactive one. Thank you for this! It restored in me the desire for a hammock nap! 😉
“Rest and worry that you aren’t being productive” is me to a T! I love your first 2 lines. This is a neat topic to dive in to.
Your first stanza is me. I am anxious and stressed when I am not productive. My new Garmin watch is telling me I need to rest, but I can’t figure out how.
Aah, David — do I hear this, or what!? I got 3 hours and 31 minutes last night… I am draggin’ right now. I need rest! You clearly do too! Excellent tone…and the o and oo and uh sounds in the word choices adds perfectly to the slowing down. Well done. Susie
It’s almost 11 pm in Munich, so this was written hastily and without using the prompt. Alliteration felt too light for this heavy topic. This is definitely not finished, but I couldn’t go to bed without describing how surreal this is. The picture was taken at the Dachau Concentration Camp memorial today. The inscription reads: To the honor of the dead, to the warning of the living.”
Our bus drove us around Munich this morning
and we listened to our guide talk about Hitler
who rallied his people here,
gushing propaganda to make Germany great again.
We walked in the Hofbräuhaus
where he founded the Nazi party.
And in the afternoon,
while I was walking Dachau,
practicing some emotional detachment
to avoid sobbing, face in hands, for two hours
because of the barracks
the gas chamber
the crematoriums
the faces and artifacts of people wiped out,
my country’s President
was threatening to wipe out a civilization tonight.
Cheri, I remember that tour! Your poem is evoking similar reasons for tearing up. We used to ask how could this happen? Now we know.
TakecRe.
My prompt be damned! I’m glad you documented this moment for us here today. Such heaviness that needs to keep being bared witness to. Thank you, Cheri. “Make Germany great again.” So poignant, so tragic. Keep writing the good fight.
It is surreal for sure. I feel naive and frightened. Thank you for this poem. I think we all feel seen in your words- bravo.
Cheri — I walked these same walks with you in Munich and Dachau. I soooo feel this. And your ending…well, suffice it to say… I could not write about anything else this evening. I am so sickened by what is unfolding. Thank you for your poem. I hear you. I feel this. Hugs, Susie
Thank you, Cheri, for sharing this hard journey, a journey that we no doubt see differently these last several years.
Water Healer
we were watered with warnings
sprinkled with sermons that hiss
we filled our skinny bodies full
satiated with hate
we knew we were born for this work
but when we were wise
we swam like seduction
sluicing off holy water
baring our bodies
we feasted on the bottom
blooming fat and pink
like the lotus
lithe, lazy, liberated
kjd
I love and identify with this image of transformation from “satiated with hate” to “sluicing off holy water.”
Here is the picture!
Ooh “watered with warnings
sprinkled with sermons” I love that a lot. Thanks for sharing, Kasey.
sunset
stunning streaks of
strawberry-salmon
striping the azure evening sky
this unexpected gift of nature
just moments before,
I saw light dance
around my reading chair
felt its tap upon my shoulder
refusing to be ignored
toss the book!
outside!
quick!
racing in my stocking feet
just beyond the threshold
I discover
this westerly wellspring
wrapped in wonder
—
Luke, this was a marvelous prompt! Thank you. Alliteration is always fun, I think. I absolutely love your last line – “Be brighter, be belligerent, be beautiful.” YES!
“this westerly wellspring wrapped in wonder.” I know that sight, and like you, I have to get outside to see it since my house doesn’t face west. Enjoy the lingering light of these spring days.
Maureen, you show us the emotional impact of what we can see, then your picture…Now we see how skillful you are at choosing just the right works to do double duty appealing to our heads and our hearts!
Thank you for writing Maureen. I especially like your light ray personification and those exclamations!
Maureen,
Thst is a “westerly wonder.” Love sunsets and the painted sky.
I love the light tapping on your shoulder, urging you outside for the sunset! I know just what that feels like. And your alliteration at the end adds so much. Thanks for sharing this!
This is an absolutely stunning poem. The second stanza literally brought out a sigh.
Maureen, your poem and the photo are gorgeous! I thought the first stanza was a gift to all of us, bur then I got to “this westerly wellspring / wrapped in wonder” and fell in love all over again.
So many gorgeous colors and lifts of marvel in your poem. It is rocking with alliteration and life, a terrific reminder to soak it all in. I especially love your invitation into the poem, “stunning streaks of
strawberry-salmon
striping the azure evening sky
this unexpected gift of nature.” Thanks for sharing!
Oh my gosh, Maureen, that is a beautiful…jump to your feet…poem and photograph. Just gorgeous. I felt like I was right there in the chair with you. Really cool. Susie
Luke, Thank you for sharing the prompt this morning. Long may your Monte Carlo run. And before I share, this is a btw – my partner grew up in Ogden Dunes. When I asked about Valparaiso and Merrillville, he said Ogden Dunes was between them.
This morning I wrote about a photo of my grandson shared with me last night.
hands holding headphones
hands holding headphones
blue eyes focused on the phone facing him
deep pink lips gently parted edging up into a smile
frame the expression that recognizes dad’s response to his creation –
2 pamphlets held in place with each hand
was this his response to the music?
or a hey, I’ve got headphones, too
making something with the materials before him
soft hands hold folded half sheets to his ears
who has a hunch what honored this creation?
Oooh! I wish I knew the age of your grandson, lol. I’m having a tough time with this puzzle of a poem. Love love love all the “h” words – especially, hunch.
Thank you, Jamie! It is a bit of a riddle for the reader, but it also lets us imagine in our own minds the details of the image.
Tell your partner hi. I don’t know anyone currently from Ogden Dunes, but that was my train stop in Chicago plenty of times.
I’m drawn to the line “frame the expression that recognizes dad’s response to his creation.” I am in so few pictures with my kids because I’m usually the one behind the camera – but I like to think that many of the pictures show their reactions to my face expressions 🙂 Two way pictures would be a neat thing – similar to screenshots of FaceTime calls.
Luke,
Thanks so much for hosting and for this fantastic fun prompt which sparked a trifecta of tricubes about my last three bike rides, yesterday and today.
Thanks, too, for this call to action:
____________________________________
Pedaling Poetry
Yesterday
Prickly pear
Rewarding
My long ride
First flowers
Yellow blooms
Unfolding
What beauty
Will I pause
For today?
~Pedaling Poet
————————
Drumroll Please
Flowing fog
Fresh blue skies
Waking world
Burbling birds
Swift swallows
Trilling time
Rain lilies
Reaching up
Ride’s reward
~Pedaling Poet
————————
Full Stop
Blue heron
Watching trail
Inviting
Sit a while
Share stillness
Ponder peace
Hear rumble
Of traffic
Fade from frame
~Pedaling Poet
_____________
Photos of the prickly pear, fog, rain lillies, fresh blue sky, great blue heron plus my bikes Luce and Grace along with the tricubes, today’s writing process, and a chorus of gratitude for my writing communities including y’all in my post today at my blog Pedaling Poet.
Thanks for sharing the your cycling meditations and for reminding us of the simple beauties that surround us when we step away and let the rumble of traffic fade from frame. Lovely! I’m off to read more of the Pedaling Poet!
So glad I got to hear you read them this morning. Love the start of the 2nd tricube. Thinking of the flowing fog and how your words conjure movement.
First off, “Pedaling Poet” is so awesome…love this! Thank you for all these fun alliterative lines…with the short lines, there is something so percussive that echoes the turning of the pedal on a bike, I think. Fun stuff!
Pedaling Poet. Love it! Can we at least get a chapbook?, or more? Thank you for contributing, Sharon.
Well we do have the blog to check out at least.
Sharon, your three poems work together to capture the images and thinking as you explore up close and personal with nature, Your poems are indeed your “ride’s reward.”
I love the reminder to pause for beauty: “What beauty / Will I pause / For today?”
I did not quite succeed in the first and last line part of this assignment, but here we go…
Fifty one fallen fruit festoon
the verdant field
and we wonder as we stare,
What can we do with this?
And then the poet wonders,
What do we mean by “this”?
The fruit? The falling? The field?”
The work
of picking them up?
Fifty one fruit have fallen,
fibrous filigrees upon
the field. They are oblong,
pale.
They are heavy with the sun,
with the work of the tree
who turned the sun
into fruit,
for the field to eat.
Omg! I love this (this poem) … these fifty one fallen fruit) and your last stanza is perfect – the sun and the tree working together to feed the field – just beautiful.
“Fifty one fallen fruit festoon” – what a fabulous first line! And then you amplified this fabulous alliteration with
“fibrous filigrees upon
the field.” So incredibly playful and clever. I absolutely love the idea of “the work of the tree.” Marvelous poem!
I love it. Especially “What can we do with this?
And then the poet wonders,
What do we mean by “this”?”
Thanks for writing this today, Jonathon.
(By the way, my high school friend that had the Monte Carlo that my poem refers to shared your name)
Thank you for reading!
Busy bee bumbling by blossoms
Working so hard to gather her pollen quota
Look, this sunflower looks so comfy cozy
I’ll just take a quick power nap
Perfect pollen pillow.
very creative!! Sounds so much like life and how we work and work and all deserve the power nap. Thanks for sharing!!
Nice. Thank for for contributing, Sheila.
Love this! “Perfect pollen pillow” is terrific.
I love the contrast in the poem from busy bee to “perfect pollen pillow.” I feel the calm at the end of the piece.
Your poem painted a beautiful picture. Love love the last line.
Beautiful braided Easter bread
glazed in powdered sugar with
a touch of vanilla.
I am not a baker, but that day.
even Maggie might be in awe.
“Make more, marami pa!”
I have a daughter named Maggie and she would certainly be a food critic. Love that last line!
Did someone say braided Easter bread? I’m right over here…..that sounds yummy!
yum, and awesome “marami pa!” Thanks for writing.
Yum! Fun poem, great wordplay. That last line is wonderful – ““Make more, marami pa!”
Playful prompt!!
I played with so many versions…
At Sunset
White cloud ship skims sky
Golden sun spreads sparkling path…
Shall I sail away?
This picture surely lends itself to endless interpretation and allliteration. Thank you for writing today, Diane!
You shall! Sail away into that beautiful sunset!
When I try to add a photo from my phone I get an error message. I would certainly love to sail away into this image!
Diane, what a wonderful and surprising little poem. I read the opening line and then immediately relooked at your pic and said out loud, Oh yes, there is the ship right there!
I see that “white cloud ship” – what a gorgeous photo and poem.
Diane,
Gorgeous photo. I’ll accept that invitation to sail away.
You asked for it! It’s only 29 degrees today! We don’t have snow, but these are pictures I would have seen last week!
Daily Deer Dumps
Damp deer dart daily
Daringly dumping doo doo
Spring comes and what do you know?
All that poop below the snow
Fertilize the food the deer now eat!
Oh my, here comes the goose!
What’ll happen when they meet?
How did they know what to do?
Lessons learned. Let ‘em loose!
So much fun!!! Love it!! Such a spirited poem – made my day!!
This is just too much fun!! Love how you integrated the alliteration into so much laughter.
I’m sure my 9th grade students would love this poem as a great alliteration example. Haha Thanks, Anna and I hope you warm up soon ! No snow here, but it was also in the 20s this morning.
Anna, such a delightful poem! Love your first two line alliterations especially–they made me smile. The rhyming gives it a cheerful beat too. Thank you for the photos, too, to help us visualize those mischievous creatures.
The deer “daringly dump doo doo” in my yard, too . . . that line made me giggle.
Fun and playful. Thanks for the images. You have quite the herd of deer nearby.
Lol, I love the playfulness of this poem, perfectly capturing the wild and the suburban. Last line is wonderful!
Lovely start with alliteration. Thank you for sharing the written snapshot of your morning laced with alliteration I loved the rhyme and word choices. – Daringly dumping doo doo, Oh, my here comes the goose! – a shift. to close Lessons learned. Let’em loose?
Anna,
A poetic zoology lesson we have in your delightful poem. Love “Damp deer dart daily
Daringly dumping doo doo” and laughed at that line, too.
Anna — What fun… I love the photos with the poem. I watched a deer this morning on my walk with the doggo.. they are all over the place up here in MN. I’d would need to add rabbits to your deer and geese… It was 21 when I walked at 7:30 a.m…. but thank heavens now warming up. Wishing you the same. Susie
Thank you for this fun prompt, Luke! Your poem’s alliterative lines are lyrical and memorable.
I found an inspiration photo from last year when I was solo traveling in Budapest that brought a smile to my face.
stopping for a spell
sun shining on steps,
sunbeams showing shadows
stopping for a spell
the perfect end
to a golden fall day
grateful for no-agenda days
full of discovery
time to take it in,
treasuring this tranquility
~Jennifer Kesler, 7 April 2026
I can feel the “tranquility”, “grateful”, and “discovery” from your words even more than your picture. Both are great together, but these words add so much. Thanks for contributing!
I love the images I see in my mind while reading your poem. And warmth. I feel the warmth of the sun in a tranquil moment. Thank you for sharing.
I feel so relaxed both looking at your picture and reading the poem. We all need to stop for a spell and breathe.
Ah, the treasure of tranquility. I’d love to get the opportunity to see Budapest. On my list!
Perfect shot, perfect poem! Perfect peace in stopping and breathing.
Aggie,
I can feel the ease and leisure of
Thanks for this respite.
Your words set an ease pace – stopping for a spell, grateful for no-agenda days. And love your alliterative close – treasuring this tranqility.
Your words and images convey the wonderful day spent exploring and taking in this city with history and so much to discover. GREAT picture for this prompt.
I will read and respond to you all when I am able. It is the first day back to school after spring break today, and then I have alternative school, so I am on the clock from 6:30-5:30, but I will be back. Have a wonderful time with all your poetic and non-poetic endeavors today.
dandy Lions
Rival rockets,
precious princess,
Lovely, lockets,
dismal distance.
Prayers passing,
sand stinging,
Angel asking,
Terror tingling.
Oil ox,
nuclear knots,
bullet box,
freedom fox.
Heavenly, home,
Far from fear
go-away gnome.
Nectar near.
Sing salvation,
locks- leave,
new known nation,
bestowed to believe.
Gracious gas,
down a dime,
Foreward, fast,
time after time.
wondering why,
red is right,
eagles eye?
sorrow sight.
this time tomorrow,
parade princess
search for sorrow,
In
The
Dandelion distancessss..
-boxer
Cool, inventive form here. Thanks, Clayton. If it is an existing form, I am not aware. Anyway, it works here and makes the reader really stop and digest those tongue-twisting words carefully.
Boxer — I enjoyed the rhythm and interesting wordsmithing. Each verse demands more readings…lots to think about. When I sat down to write I was just sick and thinking of “this time tomorrow”… knowing there would be “sorrow.” But everything seems to march to the “Foreward, fast,/time after time.” Hmmm. Susie
Luke,
Hello from a fellow Hoosier, but way down south in Jasper!
You are clearly meant to teach and I’m glad you came around to it. They advice you give your students–and thus us–is spot on. And please keep fighting the fight to keep poetry in the classroom. We have to cultivate hearts NOT just heads.
I love “rebellion by degrees”
I used one of the NG pics as an inspiration.
from dry to drenched
flooding foils using the feet
so the switch to hands.
no more soccer balls kicking up dust
but, being clever, the shift to volleyball.
standing in streets in a circle
with waist-high water
and who-knows-what
swimming around knees and ankles.
batting the ball around
so relieved to have wetness
without even worrying about
the dangers.
extreme dry to extreme wet
savoring their reality and
making the most of the moments
~Susan Ahlbrand
7 April 2026
Susan, the third stanza made me smile. I tried to imagine what’s that “who-knows-what swimming around knees and ankles” could be. Cheers to “making the most of the moments”!
Oh, Susan. You had me at volleyball, and I am intrigued to look for the photograph but dont need to with this poem. Who knows what’s swimming around knees. Ha. Perfect.
Lovely, evocative words. This is a great “caption” for that photo. Thank you for contributing!
Not sure why the photo didn’t post
One more try!
Here is the caption from National Geographic:
LIFE IN THE FLOOD ZONE
Anamã, Brazil
Relieved by the return of the wet season after two years of unprecedented drought, residents of Anamã, a town on an Amazon River floodplain, played volleyball in waist-high water and navigated the streets by boat. But the magnitude of flooding also reflects an instability brought on by climate change, as residents adapt by raising their homes on higher stilts.
Photograph by Lalo de Almeida
….without even worrying about the dangers…..and that is what makes me wonder about all the things lurking that we can’t see. Ooooh, you set the stage just using the word danger.
Susan, even without the picture, I knew the picture thanks to your powerful description of people really making “the most of the moments.” I am always amazed at how the truth about human innovation is greater than anything we might imagine they would do!
Thank you for this prompt, Luke! It was fun. I used a family photo from a vacation years ago when our boys (now 24 and 27) were small. While on our way from Kentucky to visit family in Texas, we stopped in Memphis, Tennessee, for a tour of Graceland. The poem tells the rest of the story.
Porcelain Elvis
Porcelain Elvis posed the problem
with his seventy-five dollar price tag,
while 5-year-old Will had only seven dollars
for souvenirs.
Porcelain Elvis, safely behind glass in the gift shop.
“He’s not an action figure,” we said.
“I won’t leave without him,” Will warned.
We begged, “Please don’t throw a fit…”
We faced off with our five-year-old.
Finally, he followed us, pouting, frowning,
from the gift shop.
Porcelain Elvis did not leave the building.
“Souvenir photo?” the photographer asked.
“Sure!” we said.
Three of us, smiling at the gates of Graceland.
Our family of four, fractured by a fancy figurine.
Oh poor Luke! I love your last line, it fits the photo so well! A five-year-olds fit. Mercy. Glad to know everyone made it out and over to the other side. Your poem was so fun to read!
I’m sorry, I meant, “poor Will” not Luke. Luke gave us the lovely prompt.
I love the porcelain Elvis character and the memory and conversations bargaining with your 5-year old. This is a gem. Thanks for sharing , Lori.
Porcelain Elvis did not leave the building- such a funny line! But he still fractured the family! I imagine a lot of families have that photo with the pouting, frowning five year old.
Okay, I’m laughing. That body language says it all, and you are right – – the picture absolutely shows what the story tells.
What a great photo! I love the story behind it– and I love that Elvis did NOT leave the building, even though Will desperately wanted him to.
I love poems that capture concrete moments. I often think and talk about poems as primary documents, even as nonfiction sometimes. This poem does some heavy work, and you pull it off.
Oh Lori,
This made me laugh. I imagine Will’s heard this story retold a few times. Hope you’ll share your poem with your whole family today. I’m imagining the text chain.
Loved
and
Priceless!
Lori, I can easily relate to your conflict. A reason for not liking gift shops. I so love your ending – Our family of four, fractured by a fancy figurine. Perfectly alliterative!
Lori, this story and the image of Luke clearly frustrated by that porcelain Elvis, is something all parents and store owners have witnessed many times. His hands, his standing apart, and his body language says, “when I grow up I will come back and get you, Elvis.” These memories are the fodder for family stories and memories.
Lori,
Glad toddler tantrum did not win. Graceland is so tacky!
Lori, I love the phot and the “fractured” line at the end can well be understood through not only your poem’s details but also the photograph. Love the use of dialogue in this one and “Porcelain Elvis” is a terrific descriptor.
Luke, your prompt and poem lead to a smile that I really needed this morning as my head swirled with current event fears. Honestly my head is as messy as a pile bark mulch, but that image that merely a distraction and even I know that!
Mostly, it’s a multitude of sources for mulch
Multiplied many times so it will matter,
A bargain at Lowes, perhaps with budget
Busting delivery charges?
Or a pallet from Amazon that only a
Fork-lift could raise?
Or a massive mountain dumped
In plain sight, mocking me day and night
While it leeches in neighboring yards?
It’s probably not an intense need for mulch
Mocking my attempt to read, write or sleep.
Mulch prices misplace the mighty scary
Meaning of that threat that maybe,
Many more lives are in jeopardy,
Minutes after Jeopardy.
Anita,
Evocative poem. So much depth and so much to consider…. I appreciate how you are carefully composing and decomposing all the piles of mulch. Great extended metaphor for all the piles around us. Thank you.
I can feel your mixed feelings in this poem bubbling up to the surface.
Such deeper questions and thoughts raised than would seem to be evident at first from a pile of mulch. And look at all those Ms. Awesome. Thank you. Another great spoken word piece this would be as well.
Anita, your second stanza gets to the core of the speaker’s/your concerns. As I am reading your poem, the news already announced a two-week delay, so, hopefully, those many lives won’t be in jeopardy. I will like we live on top of the gun powder barrel.Thank you for your poem!
Anita, wow! Your use of metaphor to illustrate the mighty mulch is priceless. I really loved “A bargain at Lowes, perhaps with budget
Busting delivery charges?” Your poem’s question sings! I can easily visualize the “massive mountain dumped” mocking you in plain sight. Brilliant poem!
Anite — Your poem indeed gives a sense of the “swirl[ing]… of events. It is where my head has been all day. I’m fascinated by the mix of daily doings with the “many more lives are in jeopardy… after Jeopardy.” So well done. Thank you. Susie
Pollinating plants puts
this chimney bee
right to sleep
at the end
of a work day.
Overlooked,
nesting at the base
of the sunflower,
the farmer
unintentionally
rehomes his resting,
reliable representative.
© Jennifer Kowaczek April 2026
Thank you, Luke, for this fun prompt! I chose the picture of the sleeping bee.
The enjambment here reads at first very matter-of-fact, or should I say, economical, and efficient, just like the worker bee. Well done!
I really loved that sunflower photograph with the bee. You’ve really captured the essence here in your poem. The imagery and alliteration is so deliberate just like the bee. Beautiful!
Your use of alliteration and short line breaks is very effective here. It makes for a punchy poem full of imagery.
Homage to the humble hardworking honeybee.
Jennifer, this clearly meets the “assignment,” but it also paints its own picture of this “overworked” bee who is knocked off his perch by a famer who is equally exhausted from a day of really hard work!
Luke, thanks for the invitation, photos and prompts. So glad that you’ve found your passion for teaching and writing. Your students are lucky to have you! I have borrowed your last line for my poem.
Purple Crush
Let the lover praise a purple spring
Pop ups of purple grape hyacinths
serenading the ground
Cherubs of vertical glee
Stems of joy offering splendor
materializing out of perennial love
A whisk of color offering whimsy
aromas of sweet simplicity
beauties known as Muscari
teasing you again and again
Pair them with petite plants
Yellow pansies make the perfect pair
pack in the praise, a series of surprises
Composing spring delights and effervescence
impress your crush with these petite purples
be brighter, be belligerent, be beautiful
I love that you incorporated a line from Luke’s poem and it fits so well!
Your alliteration throughout is effortless and I really like your Purple Crush title.
Thank you, Angie.
The beauty and symbolism inherent in flowers is always a field rife for metaphor and other figurative language. “Let the lover praise a purple spring”! Thank you for sharing.
I can’t believe how much care and support you are providing all the writers/poets in this community. An incredible host who keeps on giving… your generosity is much appreciated.
omg these tercets are such tight, rich eruptions of imagery & joy! You’ve got a knack for alliteration, which pops & delights throughout (especially those ps in the “Pair them” stanza). Reminds me of Aimee Nezhukumathatil’s World of Wonders
Appreciate your thoughtful comments, Joel. Aimee is one of my favorite poets. I had a chance to host for a Women’s Histroy Month celebration during the pandemic. Love her work and call to wonder with all things in nature.
Your poem pops of color and spectacular beauty in these flowers! I love the title -it drew me in!
Thanks for always taking the time to notice and offer your thoughts, Kim.
Darshna, each and every carefully chosen word contributes to your powerful poem that takes me into the heart and soul of the flower. yet, your line, impress your crush with these petite purples be brighter, be belligerent, be beautiful, makes me also smile with a reminder that sharing beauty with those you care about it the highest of joys.
Anita,
Your ability to zero in and zoom in is amazing! So glad that you shared your thoughts in the comments. It cements my ideas for poetry even more..
Alliteration for the WIN! I am partial to the petite plants…especially purple ones!
I see what you did there! Thank you, Linda.
Darshna, what a gorgeous poem full of joyous beauty and sweetness. Your last line is astounding. “be brighter, be belligerent, be beautiful” should be on a poster. “A whisk of color offering whimsy”…..oh my, what a fun line! Truly lovely message and powerful poem full of sound and beauty!
Thank you, Barbara as always love your comments. The last line was borrowed from our host and poet extraordinare, Luke.
Darshna, there are so many delicious alliterations in your poem. I fell in love with “stems of joy offering splendor” and “”petite plants.” Luke’s line as your final fits so well–it belongs there. Thank you for being generous with poems and your comments 🪻
The feeling is mutual, Leilya. I have been really enjoying reading everyone’s creativity and poetic expressions. Yours in particular offer a sense of warmth and reciprocity. Thank you.
Good Morning, Luke! Thank you for hosting today. Your “majestic messiah and the mechanic’s Monte Carlo” sounds epic! I like the prompt focused on alliteration; it gave me some “play” time this morning. I chose a picture of the Pavlova pastries I made last week for my friend’s birthday.
Sweet, Small, Secret Sacrifices
Pavlova pastries,
pure, playful perfection,
featherlight, fleeting, fragile,
gone in a breath,
no one saw me squint
over the baking sheet,
coaxing careful circles
into even, cozy nests,
slicing strawberries
to surrender sweetness,
mango melting into gold,
the patient peaks of cream,
the quiet work of decorating,
berry-bright bursts of blue,
and the search for green,
“mint’s missing,” I mutter,
borrowing bright leaves
from the blackberry bush,
because beauty is brief,
but making lets love linger longer.
Leilya – – lets love linger longer is a perfect final line, and this photo of these treats is simply stunning. You are a master poet AND a pastry chef!
No one saw you squint over the baking sheet (or the keyboard), but you’ve created such whimsical, playful verse with a serious, poignant ending line. Thank you for your submission today and every time Leilya.
Leilya,
This poem is so delightful and charming filled with surprises. I especially love the last two lines:
“because beauty is brief,
but making lets love linger longer.” Beautiful.
These look glorious, Leilya! I really love these lines and the fact that “no one saw”
“Sweet, Small, Secret Sacrifices” – perfect title for an alliterative poem about the love and time that goes into baking. Those treats look delicious!
First of all, you had me at pavlova. Pav is one of my all-time favorite desserts! Your alliterative description made me salivate and wish I was there to be a taste tester. 🙂 I like that you used alliteration throughout the poem and that your lines were roughly the same length. It was effective in your poem.
Leilya,
Love the playfulness of
Juxtaposed with
and
Love how you show both the perfection of the product and the struggle of the process, all worth it for your philosophy of
Congratulations, chef! Both your poem and your pastries delight!
Leilya, your description of the delicacy as, “featherlight, fleeting, fragile, and gone in a breath.” pretty much describes its deliciousness and has my mouth watering! I guess masterful poets can also be amazing bakers!
Leilya,
I’m coming to your house to eat. That last line is so special. May love linger for you always.
Leilya, what a wonderful gift of baking. I am drooling! Loved “berry-bright bursts of blue,” Your final lines are delivered perfectly. The brief beauty and love that lingers resonates! What a generous baker you are!
What a fun prompt, Luke! And I just saw the picture…that’s fantastic!
I had the opportunity to direct “The Best Christmas Pageant Ever” for my community theatre in December. These 3 angels are my daughter and her two best friends.
Of Costumed Cherubs
Angels in athletic accoutrements,
posing just so
Quicksilver thirteen captured in a moment
Friends 4ever
Who knows what the future holds,
But in this twinkling,
Time’s tenacious transitions tarry.
Julie, they are angels indeed, so precious! We don’t know the future, but you are right: “in this twinkling, / Time’s tenacious transitions tarry.” I love the word choices, and I think I’ve never read the word “accoutrements” in any literature before today. Thank you!
More so than maybe any other poem yet today, because of the image that inspired the poem,I feel like I’m invited behind the curtain, I’m not taking that invitation lightly. If it was just the words and I didn’t know the source material, it would still be great, but knowing the picture first and then reading the words, I feel like maybe I know too much. Like I’m not really invited behind the curtain, yet ambled there by accident? Thanks for sharing, Julie!
Julie, what a great photo of the trio of girls, friends forever, loving the time together in the play, being themselves and having such fun! I love the haloes and gowns, the wings and the smiles.
Julie,
A tremendous job with your poem from the content to your alliteration. A wondeful tribute! What a great photo!
Love your opening line- “Angels in athletic accoutrements” because it is the perfect description!
Luke, thank you for this great prompt and mentor poem. Blossoming dogwood trees inspired my small poem today.
SPRING HAIKU
Spring sustains my soul
New life brings us hope and joy
Nature nurtures me
The best haikus say something tangible (yet mysterious?) in so few syllables. This is a great one. Thank you, Rita!
Rita, this is a perfect spring haiku! You notice how “sustaining soul” is nature’s way of nurturing. Love the alliterations.
Rita, your spring haiku speaks volumes – – yes, sustaining the soul in new life and nature. A work of beauty!
Soothing haiku, Rita. Very nourishing indeed. Thank you.
The carefully crafted lines of your haiku offer three exuberant cheers for spring!
Nature nurtures me….how true this is! What a beautiful springtime poem, Rita!
Just beautiful! So hopeful.
Thank you! My sentiments exactly!
Our poems echo each other today, Rita.
could be my mantra.
Thanks for stating so succinctly what I am feeling this week.
So much feeling packed into 17 syllables. I think we are all excited for hope and nurturing after this long winter.
Rita, ahhhhh….your last line shows everything powerful about nature. Gorgeous haiku.
This is beautiful, Rita! “New life brings us hope and joy.” Truth!
Good morning, Luke. So glad you found your way to the greatest profession, even if it came at a later date. If you’re writing and inspiring kids to write, it really makes for a phenomenal career. Love the ‘b’ alliteration in the last line. Would make a great banner across any classroom
Doobie-Doo
Ding-Dong Dilly-dallying, Doodle-Day Dumbass
Dad bathed, had a shave,
poetically-thrilled to dance & rave,
Departure done, dog in toe,
Meals on wheels,
go-go-go.
whoa! whoa! whoa!
a quick return,
cabinets bare, spend what I earn,
alarmingly-panicked, it’s back to work
need a shower, clean hair a perk.
Bing-bong, bippity-boo, babbling Bry, do as I do.
A little Dr. Suessian? Reminds me a bit of my morning, being the first day going back to class after spring break. Thank you!
Bryan, this pepped me up for the day! There is a whirlwindish feeling of whistling while you work, taking care of others and still dancing and raving, writing poetry, and of course, of course bringing the dog along for the ride.
Brayan, I just read the first line, and it feels a treat already. Let me finish reading ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
I love how you find humor at such a trying time, and I can’t imagine how it is to drive hundreds of miles one way and be always in the “go-go-go” mode. Wishing you strength and patience to do what you do.
A perfect rhyme scheme with a little mischief! Love the sound bytes in your poem. A good reminder to have fun!
I enjoyed the springy rhythm and rhyme of your poem!
The rhythm, rhyme, and onomatopoeia work very in your poem. It was very fun to read!
Wow! you certainly captured your whirlwind days…as you bippity-boo and do as you do, remember your friends are thinking of you!
Ha! I love the energy in this…proof that alliteration is the way to go when you need a bit of a jolt.
Bryan,
I am bee-bopping through each line. You should write a children’s book w/ this as inspiration. It would be so much fun. Love the lady line most. Keep bopping yo the bees.
Bryan — playful, delightful wordplay. It bounces along …very effective. What a busy day…that’s the way to write a busy day! Fun! Susie
I actually wrote this one on Sunday and did the VERY quick watercolor for that day (that I included, sorry!)…but decided it fit, so will use it today. All the lines are total alliteration.
ABCD
Acrobatics aloft,
bright blue butterflies
crazily cavort, carefree,
delighting dandelions.
Wow, Donna, such talent! This is an awesome use of alliteration to capture this gorgeous moment! I love “crazily cavort, carefree”…we have lilacs that are bursting into bloom, and they are covered with these crazily cavorting creatures. Love it!
Donna, what a beautiful poem and painting! I love the alphabetical lines of alliteration.
multimedia, love it. Thank you for sharing both your watercolor and poem!
Donna, this is absolutely stunning to be able to illustrate and write – – I’m dabbling in watercolor but nothing realistic like this. I can only do abstract and hope someone recognizes what I meant it to be. You have a gift and also MADE IT AN ABECEDARIAN! Woot-woot!
Donna, both the painting and your alliterative poem are beautiful. Love each line!
Donna,
This is such a delightful alliterative poem. Spring is such a fun time to notice all the surprises and carefree nature. Love your painting!
This poem makes me feel happy!
I love both your creative words and your creative painting!
Purple pops of salvia
nectar seeking flutter by
season for saving scents
Yesterday I went with my daughter and three of my grandchildren to an Insectarium. The butterflies are amazing and remind me in this quick write septercet that we should savor each moment.
Such beauty in butterflies, and such..er..interest, if not always beauty in insects. A worthy poetry subject for sure.Thank you.
Margaret, I wish you were closer and we could go to the Cecil B. Day Butterfly Center at Callaway Gardens. I love the full color and wafting scents I feel in your poem! What a gift to spend the day with grandchildren sharing the wonders of nature.
Margaret, that “season for saving scents” stole my heart. I am thinking about how often we pass by the nature’s gifts without noticing. You are right, we “should savor each moment.”
Let us savor the scents of spring, this is such a wonderful reminder. Something so special about butterflies and rejoicing with family during spring. Glad you had this time. Thank you, Margaret.
oh, yes…those scents. I will savor them as soon as the allergens calm down a bit!
Hello again all!
Here is the image I based my example on:
Sorry it wasn’t here at the beginning of the day, but please, use whatever image you choose.
Here are a few more you could choose from: (3) Facebook
Thank you for this interesting prompt. I enjoyed composing my poem today. Everyday they bring me something… joy, enjoyment, healing, melancholy.
Unconditional Love
Calm kitty cuddles overcoming calamity
giving my heart a much needed boost.
Comfort and caring
for a beloved pet
to whom I am “mom.”
Remembering the early days,
bottle feedings, snuggles and naps.
She holds my heart
in ways I didn’t know
a furry friend could.
I’ve always loved the critters
but very few cross that abyss
and live in my heart in a way
most of my pets do not.
Purrs and perfection,
soft kitty fur
pressed against my skin,
as we snuggle and cuddle
and shut out the world.
Our time together is precious
putting perfect purrs in perspective.
-Carrie Horn
Oh, kitties…I love mine too! My Daisy makes biscuits and cuddles every morning. I love the line “putting perfect purrs in perspective”–our fur babies truly can help to calm the confusion in this topsy-turvy world.
I adopted a scaredy-cat kitty. Who boldly comes now to stare at me for brushing. There’s nothing like that feeling of sensing someone watching you and looking down at those piercing eyes! “purrs in perspective…”
Very innocent, and just joyful lines throughout, especially beginning and ending. Thank you.
I can’t quite articulate or clarify
the blossom of joy that bloomed
across my face when I heard
one of the mission control
astronaut’s reaction to the
beautiful lunar flyby images
from the Artemis II mission:
Dr. Jenni Gibbons replied,
“Amaze, amaze, amaze.”
___________________________________________________
Thank you, Luke, for your mentor poem – I love your final line, “Be brighter, be belligerent, be beautiful” – and for the freedom you’ve provided for us with your prompt today! I took a photo from your link as inspiration: Micaiah Carter’s image of pilot Victor Glover from the Artemis II mission. (And, of course, Rocky from Andy Weir’s Project Hail Mary deserves a shout-out, too!).
It’s so rare that I see (or write) poetry about the news, or poetry that quotes others. Thanks for elevating this journalistic moment into a work that arrests that eye, the ear, and the spirit. Oh, and on behalf of my students who love Philip Larkin’s The Trees, nice job on that last line especially!
Yes, thank you for writing and sharing, Scott.
Scott,
Love this line, “the blossom of joy that bloomed.” A wonderful moment to capture and hold onto, thanks.
Timely and crafty with the ‘can’t quite’/’clarify/articulate. Love it. And Like that you went with the same word 3 times in the last line. Another teachable poem!
Scott, what a really perfect choice of photos and topics to write about. Your opening to the poem that describes that moment when we experience something so intensely that words fail us is so relatable and human. And then, of course you describe it quite beautifully as “the blossom of joy that bloomed across my face”. In the spirit of sharing moments that defy easy articulation, there’s this live feed from the spacecraft where the crew proposes naming a crater after their commander’s wife who passed away. I thought you might appreciate that moment too.
Love, love, love and amaze, amaze, amaze.
what a wonderful poem. I saw those images from the Artemis earlier today and felt moved as well. Your words in the first line are perfectly placed and the last line so apt.
Lovely, Scott — I appreciate the focus on the Artemis… “bloomed/across my face” is perfect. A tidy little archive for the historical moment! Susie
Luke, thank you for the prompt. Alliteration is surprisingly hard to do sometimes. The picture for this is one of a blue bowl on my grandmother’s counter. It was one she inherited from her grandmother. It had a thin blue crack on the side. She filled it with her Granny’s famous potato salad and brought it to every gathering.
Bright blue bowl beside blooming blossoms
a crack curves quiet along its side
still it carries stories—salt, starch, Sunday
dinner-on-the-grounds sounds and songs of
four generations folded into potato salad
like hands that never stopped working, never stopped
showing love through food
red gerbera daisies lean like laughter, loud and open
petals reaching as if they remember sunlight by name
white gladiolus stand like hymns ringing to the heavens,
tall-throated, lifting silence into something sacred
purple delphinium hum low, almost a memory,
a quiet chord held beneath the brighter notes
and the yellow mug waits, warm with nothing, or everything,
its handle turned outward like an invitation
to be held, to be filled, to begin again
on the counter, time does not pass—
it pauses, it plates itself, it prays,
it remembers and recalls, resonates—this
steadfast bowl bears the weight of every
woman whose hands have washed and wielded it—
softly, still, the steadfast bowl bears history, memory, love
I love how the words of your poem come to life in my mind’s eye: “dinner-on-the-grounds sounds and songs of/four generations folded into potato salad/like hands that never stopped working, never stopped/showing love through food” These words awoke many family gathering memories in my mind and heart. Thank you!
Beautiful, tender, heartfelt. Thank you, Melanie! I’m just now realizing (maybe I should have know before) but especially due to your alitteration, this would be an awesome spoken word piece. The cadences and sounds being said out loud would be amazing.
So much of this to love! “petals reaching as if they remember sunlight by name”, sigh.
Melanie, I’m spellbound in the interweaving of generations past, present, and future held in this bowl by she who shared food as a love language with her family. The flower leaning with laughter, and this mug that resembles the one I saved from my mother’s cupboard with a moose on it (Miriam her name, Moosie her nickname)
and the yellow mug waits, warm with nothing, or everything,
its handle turned outward like an invitation
to be held, to be filled, to begin again
Thank you for the sharing of your family and all the love today!
Melanie,
So much love and affection in this poem. Thanks for sharing these poetic descriptions, they are fire!
Wow, Melanie. I do not even need the picture, and your poem is so much more than that. It tells stories, just like the bowl. Your similes are perfect “like hyms” and “like an invitation”. I also really love “it pauses, it plates itself, it prays” and “bears the weight of every / woman whose hands have washed and wielded it” – masterful alliteration and meaning! Thanks for sharing.
Melanie, I am reading and reading your lines to savor the words. Love these lines in the final stanza:
“on the counter, time does not pass—
it pauses, it plates itself, it prays,
it remembers and recalls, resonates”
Thank you for this poem today that let’s you take us through generations and cherished memories!
This is so beautiful, it must be read aloud! The yellow mug, its handle an invitation; time plating itself; the blue bowl that inspired it all – I find something new and wonderful with every re-reading,
Luke, thank you for the mid-week-appropriate challenge! Love the way you wrap up yours, with the contrasting belligerent beautiful commands (oh, and I love asyndeton). I was able to open with alliteration but alliterated the penultimate rather than the last line : )
As always, I post what I write here. Here’s today’s offering
Alexandrines for a Cicada
Summer suburban sounds — sprinklers & cicadas.
I’m out for a short walk, all the dog will allow,
when an earthbound flutter (mosquito? grasshopper?)
catches my sunglassed eyes. A tessellated wing
cartwheels along the curb, as if minding some law
of these safe empty streets. The dog panting away,
I linger, studying. (English teacher habit:
Epiphany hunting.) What predator did this?
And what of the halfwing, his flight narrowed anew?
A species synchronized seventeen-year cycle
shrunk down to this orbit, this human neighborhood.
Great alitteration thoughout for sure. Wonderful imagery and musicality. Thank you, Joel!
I absolutely adore the idea of epiphany hunting! The first two lines grabbed my attention. I loved how the sounds created the feel of summer. The “earthbound flutter” grabbed me as well. Gorgeous!
Joel, you nailed the English teacher spirit here: (English teacher habit:
Epiphany hunting.) We do a lot of that – and I love that we are always seeking the good around us. As I sit on the campsite this morning, there is a perfect harmony of birdsong, the wafting of bacon and baking, and children already out fishing, people hiking and kayaking, walking dogs and ambling along the creek babbling down from the top of the mountain. Epiphanies everywhere, free for those who hunt them. Thank you for sharing the plight of the cicada. A favorite of snakes, I hear. That beautiful wing could inspire stained glass windows.
Joel,
The sound bytes, the whimsy, the photo, and the cadence of this poem are fabulous! The composition is pure magic, thanks for sharing.
Thank you, Darshna! What a lovely way to meet you : )
Joel, You’ve written a delicious, teachable poem. I hope you have students to share this with…language with wings…especially for April. I found a whole cicada dried out at my parents after the winter thaw. Saved it to put in one of my sister’s hair the next time I see them.
lol — as the middle of five kids, I have a sense memory of this kind of shenanigan : )
Joel — I love how you take something so majestic — the architecture of the cicada’s wing… something so amazing and yet tiny in the hugely complex cycle of appearances…. these juxtapositions … great stuff. And the English teacher is JUST the person to take heed. Indeed! Cool. Susie
Thanks for this prompt and clever poem ~ I had a Monte Carlo that I loved until my brother totaled it…but that’s another story another poem (with many of the questions posed in your poem, though my brother was in a parking lot…) I enjoyed your poem and will hold on to its wisdom: be bright, be belligerent, be beautiful. This poem is based on third pic down. Also, I have to run now, but will return to read and comment on others,
Resting on a small seed-bed inside a saffron sun,
I savor the sweetness of my life—
solitary, but part of a community with a job to do,
petite, but productive,
and have your heard the buzz,
the honorable appellation
that names bees the Most Important Species on Earth?
Resting on my small-seed bed inside a saffron sun,
I celebrate and savor the sweetness of my life.
I love the aliiteration in your opening lines, and extending down to line 3 even. Well done!
Oh, goodness…what a delicious extended metaphor! I love “names bees the Most Important Species on Earth.” Such beautiful, detailed imagery!
Ann, I believe in the bees! Yes, no bees, no pollinators, no fruit. And wasps too, for the figs. Thank you for the beauty of color and the reminder of the bees – – and the way you used hearing the buzz is clever and fun!
I so love this line and the repetition of it:
I feel like I’m sipping a cool glass of lemonade while reading this…the language, especially with he s’s, have me slurping up you poetic deliciousness.
King’s Wayra
Mist makes a mystery
hush—elephants move unseen
King keeps the threshold
click of lens, wind answers
paths perhaps protected, not ours to know
Notes:
First of all, I love the way I’m able to stamp my imaginative passport with your poetry each day. What a gift to see what you’ve seen, to be where you’ve been — and in this case, to learn a new form!
That perhaps hurts my heart. Thank you for helping me see & hear & feel this morning!
The opening line grabbed me–repetition of the letter M and then the movement into the elephants. What I loved was that I could imagine the elephants appearing through the mist and almost hear the click of the camera. What a lovely image.
I was not familiar with the Wayra, thank you for introducing me to that, and your example and explaination.
There’s nothing better than a mysterious mist…
Here we get misty and foggy patches over the beaches at the ocean. My grandkids call it Ghost Beach then. The misty hush of beaches, or paths with elephants, is just so what? I can’t put it into words..”not ours to know”?
Sarah, you make the form a poem of beauty, and it makes me want to try writing one. Elephants intrigue me – – their protection is needed, and you show us the way we should enjoy them by keeping our distance and admiring. I like the way you described your process at the end. Thank you for bringing us along on your journey and sharing the view.
Ooo the sounds are so meaningful here. Thanks for sharing the explanation also. I might try the Wayra today.
Sarah,
Your invitation into the mist is truly mysterious and magnificient. A gorgeous poem that stays with you long after.. you’ve really captured and captivated me with your words and images. Thanks for introducing me to this new poetic form.
Sarah, thank you for the context and teaching me Wayra form. I will have to try it out soon. The first line sets a mysterious tone to let the elephants walk unnoticed. I am intrigued by the line “King keeps the threshold” as it makes me think that while King is a leader, or protector, he also sets the boundaries for those who are outsiders and for the elephants themselves. Then in your note about the “least studied ecosystem,” I am wondering if this is intentional. There is only so much we are supposed to know, maybe? Still thinking.
Mist does make a mystery, but I would have never thought to describe it that way. And thank you for sharing the Wayra!
Great poem.
‘Mist makes a mystery,’ is such an entrance! I want to go there.
Sarah, your very first line is magical. I love the emphasis on hush. Your end notes are compelling. I agree that protecting means not invading the species. Your final phrase, “not ours to know” resonates! Powerful!
Sarah — How fascinating…both the crafting of the poem and the notes. Love how you make your learning so tangible, so visible. You are quite something, girlie! Hugs, Susie
Luke, thank you for hosting us today with an inspiring prompt to use images to generate alliterative lines in our poetry. Your bio speaks to the passion and heart you have for teaching your students and showing them that they, too, can write creatively with the right teacher supporting them. I like the way you framed our prompt to spark an alliteration sandwich. I feel the need for speed in a race car when I read your poem! I chose a watercolor painting of a lilac and the haiku form.
Lilac Haiku
purple-pink petals
watercolor blossoming
bristles brushing blooms
Delicious! I love all those colors.
Oh, licacs. We grew up in a neighborhood called Lombard. Their flower was the lilac, and there was a park: Lilacia Park with a festival every year. And lilacs where everywhere. I’d cut small branches and bring them to school with me so that I could smell them (and not the youth scents). Thanks for this memory spark.
Sarah
There’s a kind of visual symmetry here, Kim, in that each p of line one appears as a mirror image in each b of line three. I misread brushing as blushing, so thanks for letting me read two poems by accident today! Love the sonic contrast of bristle & bloom that enhance the visual image too!
I love haiku. This reads like a watercolor painting–soft and delicate. It created such a beautiful image. The colors and the descriptions of the brushes. Love this!
That alliteration sandwich speaks much more than you would think a poem of that number of words would.
Kim,
You are bringing spring to life with this beauty! Love your haiku.
This haiku, itself, is blooming!
Kim, your haiku’s each word recreates the painting. Love “bristles brushing blooms” as, to me, it seems as if the painter is present and is taking care of painting almost in the same way the gardener tends to flowers. Wondrous!
Kim,
Gorgeous word wonder. I can see a book of flower haiku in your future. Be sure to read Mo’s dog poem.
Simply gorgeous haiku, Kim. Love “purple-pink” and ‘blossoming/bristles”.
Oh, Kim — Send some of the lilac my way. My favorite smell of the spring by far. Not even a hint of them yet here. It was 21 when I walked Rayo this morning. Brrrrr. But sunny and lovely. Lilac hugs to you, Susie
The site had a paywall but I used a headline about dogs. Rayna is our pooch.
Kevin
Fourteen thousand years ago
the wild dogs came home,
and we welcomed them –
if at first, warily, then later, with love –
these beasts feeding on our scraps and
warming the cold nights, our bodies
built to lean in on each other;
Rayna remains resting in repose
on the couch as I write her this poem –
she’s sleeping through verse
Kevin–I can picture Rayna now–she deserves this perfect poem! I love the history, and particularly the line “our bodies built to lean in on each other”. (Three dogs– a lot of leaning…)
Oh, this tugs on my heartstrings…those lovely, wonderful, full of love doggos make life so much richer.
Oh, how lovely to think of Rayna sleeping through verse. I have often thought of a poetry anthology of the animals that watch their poets.
“she’s sleeping through verse” Ah yes, all the unaware subjects of our poetic meanderings. Thanks!
Kevin,
I appreciate the warmth and love of this poem. Totally can visualize Rayna!
Kevin,
Karallyne Karma Caramel Cupcake and I approve of your Rayna poem this morning. Woof Woof. Pant Pant Pant.
Bry
I love this ode to our best friends!
Kevin — Very perfect image. My doggo is sitting right here with me as well. She is Rayo de Luna… my moonbeam (came to me on the full moon). i like the idea that somewhere in her dreaming, wiggly feet she is reliving her “wild dog” ancestors. Thanks, Susie
Good Morning Verse Lovers. “Majestic Mechanics Monte Carlo” is a fabulous image in my mind. That’s such a flight of fancy. I love it. Thank you, Luke for this chance to poke through my photos to find something to work from. I took this pic on my spring break trip. I was trying to imagine what on earth this Dad was carrying for a trip with only one kid in tow.
Dromedary Dad Dare
Plan a surprise trip for your child,
a quest to find answers
to her universe of questions.
She can pack anything—be ready
in thirty minutes.
Forty minutes later,
at the train station,
you wear two backpacks,
a large shopping bag, and pull
a wheelie suitcase.
It’s her only childhood.
You would cross deserts, mountains,
and parachute into jungles to be worthy,
provide what’s wondrous, and wonder-full,
to your wide-eyed child.
The title, the photo, the story, the love, and those last lines–“it’s her only childhood”. The deserts, mountains, jungles. Beautiful. Lucky you.
Oh, this feels like an apt father’s day tribute. How lovely. This, of course, was not my father. His message would have been to pack only what I could carry. That is a different kind of father, and the world, needs all types, I think. Great photo, too.
A great image to create a poem from, so many stories and worlds to unfold. And your “to be worthy,
provide what’s wondrous, and wonder-full,
to your wide-eyed child.” is a great way to see this.
Linda, this line stays with me: It’s her only childhood. That’s worth crossing oceans for! It’s worth hiking mountains and traversing deserts for, for carrying two backpacks. It’s worth getting up, getting dressed, and getting out and living for!
This is so lovely. The alliteration at the end is perfect and I love the idea of crossing “deserts, mountains, and parachut[ing] into jungles to be worthy”. Thanks for sharing!
Oh, I love this dad who is totally willing to do so much!
“You would cross deserts, mountains,
and parachute into jungles to be worthy,
provide what’s wondrous, and wonder-full,
to your wide-eyed child.”
Great photo and poem!
Keep writing…keep the promising parenting alive. Kids are meant to be wide-eyed and I love that you captured this both in photograph and with poetics!
I love your response, the photo and the story of it. The title is so clever. Great alliteration of wondrous, wonder-full, and wide-eyed!