Open Write is a community meet-up to write poetry on the third Friday of every month for four days—an invitation to write, read, and reflect together. You’re welcome to write a poem each day or to come and go as you need. You can also read and leave a brief note—a line you loved, an image that stayed, a feeling a poem stirred—as a way of participating, too. We’re glad you’re here.
Our Host
Kim Johnson lives in rural Georgia and is a recently-retired educator. Along with other Ethicalela writers, she is a contributing author of Assessing Students with Poetry Writing Across Content Areas Humanizing Formative Assessment for Grades 6-12 (Routledge, 2025); a contributing author of Words that Mend: The Transformative Power of Writing Poetry for Teachers, Students, and Community Wellbeing (Seela Books, 2024) and several other poetry anthologies. She blogs at www.kimhaynesjohnson.com.
Inspiration
My writing communities have a huge impact on my life as a consumer and creator of poetry. Each month, writers of Ethicalela and other groups encourage me with prompts and ideas. I am blessed that other writing friends freely share ekphrastic prompts (Barb), prompts from Substacker Audrey Gidman (Denise), prompts from Georgia Heard (Margaret) and prompts from Writer’s Digest (Glenda) and so many others. This month, I’m using Robert Lee Brewer’s Wednesday Poetry prompt idea shared by Glenda to get us started on what we want to get back to. While many are going back to school, I’m getting back to knowing myself at the pace of retirement. What are you getting back to?
Process
Make a list of all the possibilities of things we can get back to. Back to the Future. Back to Back. Back to School. Back to School Shopping. Back to the topic at hand. Back to What We Were Talking About. Back to Sleep. Then, create a poem along that line of thinking. Glenda and I offer two short forms below.
Glenda’s Poem
Kim’s Poem
Getting Back to Me: A List Poem
I’m getting back to
pressing wildflowers
sipping coffee later
writing poetry
reading books
watching sunsets
feeding hummingbirds
wearing jeans and Birkenstocks
napping with dogs
learning mahjong
mailing postcards
building campfires
painting with watercolors
stretching yoga poses
peeing on my own schedule
lingering over lunch
taking walks
driving the back roads
sewing rag quilts
getting to know myself
….all over again
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.
Kim,
I totally forgot you’re hosting today and that you’d be using my poem. 🥰 I love all the living you’re doing in these early retirement days.
Back-Trekking
[etheree]
When
you turn
down the wrong
path, trek back, re-
trace your steps, and go
again. Proceed in the
direction you desire
until you reach your journey’s end.
The big lake awaits travelers who long
to close Superior’s circle drive loop.
Glenda Funk
My Canva is a view of Lake Superior in an extremely remote area of Canada.
Glenda, such a beautiful view of Lake Superior, and your poem sits so comfortably with an arched title, which is so fitting. I like the choice of “trekking” as it is a walk that requires effort, not a breeze walk. Like the lesson your poem teaches:”re-/trace your steps, and go / again.”
Mistakes and wrong turns need to be re-traced.
Oh, wow! What a trek that circle drove loop spotless be. It sounds like a wonder. Have you done the whole loop? I love ‘the big lake awaits travelers’
So much fun, Glenda! I love seeing the way you make Canva graphics of your poems. It is challenging to create natural rhyme in an etheree, but you have done it – again, end. It’s nice to see an etheree as a form today, like a step along the journey with each new line. I hope you are having a great time, and I would love to visit Lake ONTARIO sometime soon. Safe journeying, and hope you are making lots of great memories along the way.
To me this seems very akin to yesterday’s prompt as well. Very grounding and purposeful in such a serene, welcoming way as well. Thanks!
Love this, Glenda! ❤️
Glenda,
i was circling back to thank you for your mentor poem—love it’s dry wit Happy to see you here with another poem filled woth good life advice.
Pure wisdom.
Safe travels and enjoy that beautiful Canadian scenery.
Beautiful image and poem. I love the idea of retracing one’s way until they arrive where they want to be. Perfect motto for traveling and living.
Back to writing back to singing back to writing hymns and sonnets and essays back to thinking back to not feeling so guilty over guilty sake unproductive back to joy back to peace back to fawning over art back to the extraordinary wonder of nature put it all in words back to expanding my mind back to expanding my vocabulary back to feeling good after I eat back to eating what makes me feel good back to self-control back to discipline back to love, peace, joy, patience, gentleness, kindness, faithfulness, self-control, back to reaching out back to saying the words, even if they are hard back to finding the words back to not feeling guilty for not finding the words for the word sake, for the guilt sake back to speaking life into these kids that desperately need it back to them back to me back to the real me back to asking for help back to not going to forget my medication back to feeling like I matter back to feeling like I can do this back to feeling like I have purpose back to knowing the truth back to knowing I’m enough
Luke, so great to be back writing with you and back to feeling good for sure.
Love this rally cry, Luke!
Your form fits your meaning as all of these ideas are interconnected and overlap.
Go, Luke!
Luke,
Your list of “back to” encapsulates the myriad experiences of being a teacher. I don’t think it’s possible to overstate the importance of each or the paradoxes in these complications teaching brings to life.
Welcome back, Luke, and welcome to all your returnings and joys and being able to do all you want and can. Thank you!
Oh, Luke, I’m struck with the rhythm of all the back to’s. Also, the opposites at times are so powerful. That last phrase “knowing I’m enough” was the perfect ending.
What a lovely way to create the repetition of form in a stream of consciousness poem! I love it all, but particularly the final few lines ending in knowing you are enough: back to feeling like I matter back to feeling like I can do this back to feeling like I have purpose back to knowing the truth back to knowing I’m enough
this is powerful! Thank you for sharing today, Luke!
Luke, loved this!
Glenda, I’m in a beach daze and just this minute saw your poem! I love how you included a book reference and showed us how your reader’s mind switched into writing gear. Delightful!
Glenda and Kim thank you for hosting today. Glenda thanks for bringing the smile to my face. A little more direct than the sound of the saw at the start of As I Lay Dying and Kim I enjoyed reading your list of all you are doing. Yesterday, I turned to my partner at lunch and shared, “Aren’t you glad we’re not working.”
Here goes,
back to my community
8:15 Monday morning on the floor with my reflection in the mirror I try to follow the steps and swing my arms
8:00 am Tuesday I text Danielle as I walk to the fence and wait for her to let me in – Sharon and I join her at the table to catch up and eat tacos before we write
it’s 9:00 Wednesday and we’re here to volunteer in the nursery at Tree Folks – up potting trees, moving pots, stacking and counting crates – whatever needs to be done til 11:45 when we share bread before heading home
9:00 amThursday finds me rolling out my mat in front of the Y assuming child’s pose or lying on my back hands on my heart and belly as I focus on breath therapy in motion
it’s 9:30 Friday core class in the AMP room only 30 minutes for a get in get out rigorous workout before I’m back to the truck and heading home
Oh, Jamie. This is so wonderful. I am grateful to walk alongside you for a few hours. Through all the very specific details asking for attention, for noticing, for taking up space in a poem. Lovely.
Jamie,
Love all the different ways you are starting your days in community.
Sweet ending:
Retirement is good!
This sequence poem that shares the day is a lovely form for showing life in real time. I like that you share bread – til 11:45 when we share bread before heading home
What a fun way to end the time Tree Folks by sharing bread – it has the perfect ring of fellowship and working together to accomplish good things.
Kim and Glenda, thank you for your prompt. Glenda, I love “Back to Living” and the startling title that inspired it. Great wakeup call. Kim, your list is sweet and full of life and wonder. I’m happy that you are enjoying your retirement.
Because I Don’t Think We Should Be Banning News Outlets from the White House or Having the U.N. Need to Investigate Us for War Crimes Against Children
Let’s go back to Blue
Yes! I’m hopeful and excited but hopefully will not be crestfallen and disappointed in November. I’m from a very red area but hopefully we get more blue this year!
Mic drop!
Well played, Denise!
Hear, hear!
Denise,
It would be so much easier to go back to not having the shit-gibbon as president, so I hope we ride a blue tsunami in No ember. Also, perfect sentence poem and cause-effect analysis.
Denise, your poem takes me back to the week we wrote one line poems and also titles that clarify the poem and speak for it – – and I’m with Stacey. Mic drop and especially love that your title begins with because. Your title and one line are in sync and powerful.
💙 💙 💙
Denise, wow! Your poem is perfect! I’m definitely praying for a blue wave!
Back to reason
Back to logic and
facts
Back to Lincoln Logs
and fingerpainting
and fingerprints
Back to 2 + 2 = 4
to 1983
to thinking
Holding a pencil
smelling the clouds
squeezing into the space
Between
the front and
the back.
Allison,
These lines pulled my heartstrings. But actually the entire poem resonated with me.
smelling the clouds…
🩵 🩵 🩵
“Back to Lincoln Logs/and fingerpainting”- I can see these activities so clearly! Your poem advocates for the joy of simpler times. Love it!
Allison, agreed! Getting back to a simpler time of learning basics and fingerpainting are great things to get back to. Getting back to reason and logic sounds dreamy in a world that seems to have lost the ability to exercise those things.
Allison, your poem is rich with strong images and movement. I love smelling the clouds and sure wish more logic was used in our world today. Been thinking about you and hope you are doing as well as possible!
Back to back
The twins stood
“How come he’s taller? I’m older than him.”
“Only by two minutes.”
“It doesn’t matter,” mother tried to soothe.
“Eat your vegetables,” the older sister suggested.
“Just boss him, you are older,” dad said.
“Only by two minutes.”
Finally, a smile from the shorter curly haired, older twin.
I love your take on this prompt. I do not have twins, but my boys are very close in age. It was very stressful to the older one when his younger brother outgrew him.
I DO have twins (monozygotic) and I loved this visit BACK 25 years when I heard such questions. <3
Your poem made me smile, Cayetana. I am just imagining the scene you describe–it is so vivid. Thank you!
Cayetana, your poem sparks such memories of siblings finding something to compare and complain about. My younger sister is now writing her “memoir” story about what it is like being the “baby” sister. And, like most mothers, we felt if she didn’t say it, “So what!? or as you’re writing, “Eat your vegetables!”
Cayetana, I love this narrative poem through dialogue. It seems like you are part of this, and I wonder which one you are or if you are an observer. It’s alright that I don’t know, but I love your sweet story of the twins, and the smile from the two-minute-older twin.
Cayetana, I love how the dialogue carries your poem. The character comes through with their words –
“How come he’s taller? I’m older than him.”
“Only by two minutes.”
“Just boss him, you are older,” dad said.
“Only by two minutes.”
Such fun.
Back to back, heel to heel……what a beautiful way to begin a poem, working in the height of twins and their span of minutes in age. I love that it begins with heels to heels and ends with a smile. You worked magic today! I can see the smile.
Cayetana, what a fun poem. I can easily hear the conversation and love the emphasis on only by two minutes. Such a striking snapshot of a familial moment!
Kim – Thank you for your prompt and your poem. I laughed out loud at “peeing on my own schedule.” Only teachers can truly understand how this is a cherished moment.
.
The Echoes
Back and back before our mothers held us close—skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat.
Before we sucked in our first breath and filled our lungs with life,
Belted our first cry …
We somersaulted in fluid, cushioned against heat and injury.
This was a miracle,
And an echo of ancient waters,
Of deep-sea vents where life first stirred.
Back and back, in inky darkness and brilliant light,
In the scald of geothermal chemicals, in ancestral branches,
Before heat and synthesis, before convergence of life,
Before bacteria and cells, a shared blueprint emerged.
An ancestor connecting us all,
Back and back a lineage sharing the same code—
Biology says we are a mere echo of the past,
ripples trickling back.
Tammi, as I read your poem, I wondered whether Tammi would come across as a creationist or an evolutionist, but you left it up to us. Who is our ancestor, really? I think it’s more important to ask Who created us all! Other than that issue of where we came from, commendations on writing a poem that retains the extended metaphor of birthing back to the beginning, but all for the inside!
Tammi, wow, that is so beautiful. The first stanza is mesmerizing and rich in those word choices you used, so beautiful. I’m just sitting here going back and back and imagining me doing the somersaults. Then to take it all the way back to the beginning–wow! Really birth is a lovely metaphor for the beginning. I like “back and back”
Tammi, this is outstanding! I don’t know how you managed to create this ancestral archive of evolution of memory using “geothermal chemicals,” “bacteria and cells” and codes with poetic cadence. I also like “Back and back” refrain that to me creates a spiralling movement into the past.
Beautiful Tammy. I really like where you went with this and the scope of what you have given us here, profound echos of the past
Wow!
I read your poem four times, Tammi, wanting to take it all in.
Your poem gives me such a sense of awe and wonder. And also a sense of calm.
Impressive!
Tammi, I love the repetition of back and back….starting and ending on the word back shows the passage of time and the evolution of humankind since the dawn of creation. A shared blueprint is a fascinating image. Thanks for writing today!
Thanks, Kim, for this thought-provoking prompt, and thanks to you and Glenda for your lovely mentor poems!
Guess what I’m getting ready to do this year? 😉 Congratulations to you, Kim! 🙂
Re-Tired
Back to school, back to classes:
donned my “glass half full now” glasses.
End is near and rest in reach –
dreams of Relaxation Beach.
No more anxious school dreams,
classroom sighs, hallway screams,
teenage drama, glee, and pain,
grading nights at home that drain.
Recollections with me sit.
I, to my memory, commit
every kid that passed through here.
Back to twenty-nine good years.
Back to colleagues, some long gone.
Back to bored staff meeting yawns.
Back to words from students seen –
some so sweet and some real mean
Back to every lesson planned,
typed with pained but loving hands –
commit to paper heavy hopes
considering the sequence, scope.
But next September, come the 5th
(or thereabouts – you get the drift),
I’ll wake at six and then, instead
be happy to go back to bed.
Wendy — Love the rhythm and rhyme of your poem of anticipation! This line sounds like bliss — “I’ll wake at six and then, instead/be happy to go back to bed.” I’m sure you ‘re counting down the days. I hope you have an amazing last year!
Wendy, your poem makes me smile thinking of those yawning meetings and typed heavy lessons! Your rhythm and rhyme make this poem ready for a retirement party share!
What a delight of rhyme and rhythm, singing us through your final year–with lilting fun! The title Re-Tired is perfect!
I, too, might be close to retiring, but I’ve decided to say “Five more years” up until the day I turn in my keys.
I love your final line: BACK to bed!
You inspire me!
Love this! I’ve been retired for a little over a year; and I still haven’t been able to sleep in! Old habits die hard. Your rhyme is superb!
Yes!!! Enjoy this final year. I tried to make my last year my most fun.
There is a Facebook group for my district’s retirees/almost retirees, and in August lots of people were sharing the alarm clock plans. Set it early and go back to sleep sounds like fun.
Wendy, congratulations! I love the rhyme and the repetition of back to….and the sense of a rewinding back through time and suddenly the future – – and going back to bed. That’s the best “back to” of all! It’ll be here before you know it.
Kim, I really enjoyed responding to this prompt because it encouraged me to go back to a place I love. Your poem inspires me to try more in my own retirement. I’m so happy for you!
I Go Back to Galley Street
When I don’t know where to go,
I go back to Galley Street…
to the house Papaw built.
It’s Saturday night, 1980.
Granny is reading
while Papaw
works a crossword puzzle,
so confident
he uses an ink pen.
A train trundles by
on the tracks across the river.
At 10-years-old, I stay up
past my bedtime
on weekend sleepovers
so we can watch our favorite show,
The Love Boat.
Papaw finds the channel.
Granny says, “Turn the sound up.”
None of us has ever
been on a cruise;
but we love Julie and Gopher,
Isaac and Doc,
Captain Stubing and his daughter, Vickie.
Granny comments
on all the guest stars.
She tells us who’s been on what.
We laugh at all the funny parts;
and when the show is over,
Granny says,
“I just hate it when that show ends.”
I agree.
Later, in my cozy bed,
made up on the couch,
tucked under a corduroy crazy quilt
pieced by Papaw’s mother,
I identify
a bit of skirt,
a child’s blue overalls,
a patch of brown slacks,
wales worn nearly smooth.
Through the open door of their tiny room,
I hear their conversational snores…
Papaw’s low grumbling rumbles
answered by Granny’s high whining whistles.
I fall asleep as another train rattles past.
I dream of a cruise
where all problems are solved
in the course of an hour.
When I don’t know where to go,
I go back to Galley Street.
A familiar theme song plays
in the background…
“Come aboard.
We’re expecting you.”
Lori, what a wonderful memory to share where all problems are solved in the course of an hour! This id s great poem to a great place to be!
Lori,
I love your idea of memories of your grandparents as a destination. I’m going ti have to make a similar voyage.
Thanks for the Love Boat memories. I used to watch that show while I was babysitting after putting the kids to bed. After that came Fantasy Island and I would want to watch that too but a lot of times I’d have to turn it off because it was too scary
I love the cozy sounds of your family time—
So peaceful.
Oh, Lori, your poem is such a lovely journey. All the details are exquisite and pulled at my heartstrings. I loved the focus on sound and images especially the quilt and the snoring. My eyes filled with tears by the close of your poem. Gorgeous end and poem!
Lori — “The Love Boat”! Wow, does that take me back! I remember watching that one too! The poem is tender and conveys the warmth and love you experienced beautifully. Love the way you weaved in the train with the your grandparents’ snores and the ending was just perfect!
Oh, Lori, I love that you took us along to Galley Street where your Papaw and Granny made you feel safe and loved. I have a similar poem, and in it, I am going to my childhood home, which was always my haven too. Thank you so much for sharing your precious memories.
Oh my, your blending of Love Boat with Galley Street was amazing.
The “conversational snores” gave me a real smile.
Oh, Lori, the memories as real as time, as vivid as being there with you hearing the music, watching the show, feeling the rumble of a train and sleeping on the couch under a quilt of fabric from clothes. I can hear the snoring and granny’s whistling like the train – – I like the parallels of the train and the cruise ship and coming aboard……there is movement of time in the train and the hour show, as in life. A lovely rendering of memory and time.
Kim, your prompt really got me thinking. Last night, I witnessed multiple random acts of kindness making me incredibly hopeful for the future. I’m still basking in the glory of those wonderful acts giving me renewed hope even for our country and world. So today, I’m taking the prompt from where I have been to where I hope to be heading. I admit I am a bit of an optimist who wants to remain hopeful even when life and the news seems hard..
I have been reluctant to hope,
Crammed with worry about family, friends,
Anxious about aging, loneliness,
Distraught for our splintered nation,
Nervous about gruff international interactions
Aggrieved by lying and self-centered behaviors.
I hope the see more signs of kindness where
We stop what we are doing to support and help others,
Signs of growing and changing family, friends plowing
Forward through storms and challenges of life
Glimpses of respectful disagreement, dialog,
Problem-solving devoid of name calling, blame,
Honor and respect for diverse ideas, philosophies, beliefs,
Kindness, honesty, compassion on at all levels.
Anita-a poem and a wish for our times. Problem solving devoid of name-calling. If only…
Anita, yes to this hopeful world where we work to support and build each other up rather than tearing each other apart. I really appreciated “splintered nation” and feel the same aggravation with self-centered behaviors. Some days I honestly do not know if I can look at a single news item. Powerful poem and important message!
Anita,
thank you for sharing your poem which balances concern with hope.
It does seem like a good time to be involved with and focused on our local communities.
Thank you for sharing your optimism. I’m an optimist too, even during these hard times.
Beautiful!
Hope reigns in this beautiful poem! I love the optimism.
Anita– “Honor and respect for diverse ideas, philosophies, beliefs,/
Kindness, honesty, compassion on at all levels.” — Yes! We need more of this! I hope we see more of these positive actions too!
Anita, I couldn’t say it better. Every concern and worry of yours are close to my own. I wholeheartedly share your hope to see a better, kinder world where we are able to solve disagreements, honor, and respect each other. Thank you!
Anita, we are thinking on the same wavelengths today. I just this morning was saying how people used to disagree respectfully, but we see that so rarely these days. I like that you admit reluctance to hope, and then the shift in the poem has you hoping….and that is a welcome feeling – – and may the odds be ever in hope’s favor to see a return to kindness and love. I love the way you framed your thinking and shared these desires for our world.
Kim, thank you for hosting and such a wonderful prompt. Both, Glenda’s and your poem, convince me that we need to do so much to return to living.
Surrender
Diagnosis: Professor
(Choose teacher if it applies)
Symptoms appear
without warning:
reading a novel,
I notice the narrator
before the story;
a metaphor
before the feeling;
a sentence
I might bring
to class.
Even pleasure reading
comes with
an invisible pencil.
And writing?
The condition worsens.
A first line barely lands
before my evaluator-self asks:
Does it make sense?
I just want to return:
To a story.
To a poem.
To my own first draft.
Reading without interpreting.
Writing without evaluating.
Letting something be
unfinished,
unexplained,
preferably imperfect.
Leilya, I am smiling in agreement with every line of your poem today. Yes, rather than just enjoying the moment, we find the teacher part of us analyzing and wondering. I know it happens to many others as well. As teachers there is always a part of us in school mode thinking about what we might take from every experience to enrich our teaching lives and engange our students/
Leilya—yes, yes, yes! I so often find myself analyzing what I read. And I’m retired! That last phrase-preferably imperfect. Perfect!
Leilya, I’m in awe of your reflective poem. Enjoying the rough edges of our writing and just letting go to enjoy what we might be reading can become difficult when we are immersed in self-evaluation. Love the “perfectly imperfect.”
Leilya,
This is so relatable and I like the clever way you framed it.
Love your ending.
You can do it!
Leilya — Truth!
“I just want to return:
To a story.
To a poem.
To my own first draft.
Reading without interpreting.
Writing without evaluating.
Letting something be
unfinished,
unexplained,
preferably imperfect.” — I feel you! We all need to read like we did as children, letting ourselves get swept up in the story and falling in love with our character friends!
This hits home! I found myself in so many of the places in this poem. Love this!
Oh I know this feeling well. My inner critic rears her head when I sit down to write. I’d love to go back to the freedom of writing with uninhibited joy.
Leilya,
Noy have you honed in on an unpleasant side-effect of teaching writing. Good news is you’ll get back to that kind of reading, but maybe not until retirement.
Leilya, you have the wiring of a full academic and I like the way you started with the diagnosis. That invisible pencil is a thing – – and needing a real one to even listen just in case there is something to write down is a condition, too. This is one of my favorite parts, and I so strongly identify here: Even pleasure reading
comes with
an invisible pencil.
Love this!
Teacher Tired
the
exhaustion
felt
after
the first
full week
of classes,
all-consuming
but also pretty
wonderful, too
___________________________________
Thank you, Kim, for your mentor poem and prompt today! Your list sounds divine! And I love the ending: “getting to know myself / ….all over again.”
Scott,
I hope you have a phenomenal year. When you retire, you’ll have a new understanding of teacher-tired. I won’t say what it is now that I know. 🤣🤣 You got this!!
Scott, I understand that exhaustion. There were years that on the first day with students, I was literally crawling from my car to the door and going to bed by 7 pm. That’s first-day teacher tired trying to get back in the groove! The phrase all-consuming is so accurate! All the best to you for an amazing year, and I hope the adjustment back into the school year is smooth and quick. Thanks for writing today!
I agree! The best part was seeing the children (mostly eager to return) and their families (all eager to have their children return to school)!
Yes, Scott! I love and look forward to the beginning of each semester–it’s my favorite time. You are so right about it being
“all-consuming
but also pretty
wonderful, too”
Scott, my grandson (9) told me after the first full week of school that he was tired inside his heart! I told him his teacher felt the same way, but needed to explain how the teacher was also exhausted. Yes, the beginning and end of school are both hard seasons, but the exhaustion at the beginning is legendary!
…and that is why we keep teaching—the wonderful part!
Scott — This is truly the conundrum of being a teacher.
Kim, my friend! What a lovely welcome into our new Open Write for September. I love your poem because I see some new things on your list that I need to add to mine. Retirement is lovely and allows for so much more space to BE! My favorite line as a teacher who never seemed to be able to find a vacant restroom on campus is:
Only teachers understand this! 🤣
Now that I am retired, I’m noticing even more how disconnecfed people are when I’m out. No one is looking at anyone face-to-tace, smiling, or acknowledging one another. So, I want to get back to reality!
Back to Reality
Stop scrolling and watch
Clouds, planes, or smiling faces
Reels and posts don’t breathe
©Stacey L. Joy, 9/19/2026
Stacey—beautiful, succinct, and so very valid!
THIS. “Reels and posts don’t breathe.” Yes! Thank you for crafting this reminder for us, Stacey!
Stacey, such a keen observation of how we can now take in those around us and note how “going through the motions” with a small window of time for the things we wanted kept us hyper focused on everything. I like that you are feeling more in tune with the world around you and I am standing in applause with reels and screens not breathing. Stopping to be present in the moment is a wonderful and heartfelt message in your poem today. Hugs to you!
Stacey, I am a bit envious, but you deserve every stop, every moment of enjoying “clouds, planes, or smiling faces.”
Stacey, this is SO true and my observation of people of all ages as well. I was at a soccer game earlier and there were MANY parents who scrolled throughout the entire game. My grandson’s first goal did not even register as a clap until they were told about it!
Stacey, I absolutely love reels and posts don’t breathe! I concur we need to start looking and paying attention to nature and nurture each other by being present! Powerful poem!
Stacey — This is the sad reality. Our society is so obsessed, addicted to social media.
Kim, I love your prompt and love your poem although I have to laugh at “peeing on my own schedule.” The freedom to do what you want to do and live intentionally is a marvelous undertaking. I know you’re doing it right! Sending postcards and especially receiving them is such a delight:)
Just No
We’re sorry to inform you
Please submit again
We don’t find your work suitable for our journal
Thanks but no thanks
We receive so many submissions….
A litany of rejections
heavy as this morning’s air
presses against my heart
leads me toward negative paths of despair.
Feeling unworthy, I open an invitation to write,
banish my naysaying thoughts
rise to a new occasion,
open my notebook to spin webs of joy
with my writing community friends.
Barb Edler
19 September 2026
Barb, my friend, they know not what they do or who you are! Shame on them.
I love these lines and love you too! Keep
writing!
Barb, I echo what Stacey said. They know not. Here we are, spinning webs of joy in our community, where every poet and poem is worthy and celebrated. We lift each other up, we see ourselves and our feelings reflected in each poem here – – the heaviness of rejection letters is real, and the community of writers sits in the shadows of knowing those feelings alongside you, sharing Kleenex and hugs. And we keep our chins up – – for joy comes tomorrow, and we will sit in the sunshine of happiness then, cheering and smiling big.
You’ve written about something I too have experienced multiple times. Somehow though, we keep writing because we do have communities who are encouraging!
Barb, I hear you and just recently received: “Thank you, your poems don’t fit our current issue needs.” And it felt awful, and I had a talk with a friend, who somehow always manages to comfort me. So I want to share her wisdom with you: 1) They just don’t know what they are missing. They really don’t. 2) Your poems may not fit their “agenda.” 3) This one makes me feel better every time: I write for me. This is what I need.
I love your poetry, and if I had a literary journal, you would be my poetry columnist.
Barb, This story has me smiling and crying in understanding and agreement. Your choice of the word litany is the best. I could paper a wall in my bathroom if I had kept them all, but it would have kept me stuck in the bathroom feeling absolutely sick! I do know that it seems to more you publish, the more your work is wanted!!! I do have to say that I really appreciate and look forward to reading your poems,
Barb, your words have never failed to buoy my spirit. Even here, when rejection weighs heavy, you write truths, you rise above. Your example beckons us to do so as well. You yourself are an extraordinary encourager, plus, your craft and artistry are wondrous. I love your work.
Your poem made me remember some of my own experiences and the massive rejection counts of many famous poets and authors – thought you might enjoy this gem:
“e.e. cummings was rejected by 14 different publishers. Undeterred, he eventually self-published the book with financial help from his mother. In a legendary move of poetic defiance, he dedicated the book to the 14 publishers who turned him down, listing their names vertically in the shape of a funeral urn.”
-Write on, friend!
“rise to a new occasion,
open my notebook to spin webs of joy
with my writing community friends.” — Keep on writing, Barb! You are an amazing and inspiring writer!
Barb, thank you for such an honest and vulnerable poem.
Please collect the rejections as badges on your Girl Scout sash –evidence that you are WRITING. (My definition is putting pen to the page to share with others.)
I always love reading your work.
Oh, wow, I love the last stanza and that you came here to share this with us is beautiful! On the other hand, I’m sorry for the news of the first two stanzas. You are a trooper, Barb. Keep writing.
Barb, the ending of your poem made me happy. I feel a kinship with discouraging rejections; but the joy of writing in community buoys my spirit. Thank you for sharing this!
Barb,
Every time you tell me about a rejection I just think about how incompetent the reviewer must be. Maybe it’s time to start a literary journal. You could not possibly get a rejection letter from yourself, I am truly sorry about those rejections. They feel unfair.
Thanks, Kim, for your prompt today. I am feeling glad to getting back to doing the things I usually do after pending two months on the couch post knee surgery.
Getting Back to Movement
My body is cement
my knee is stiff
“It just takes time,” they say.
I am the bionic woman
ready to get back to:
walking
no pain
camping
celebration
writing
creating
jumping
hiking
gardening
driving
happiness
And with eyes open appreciate the beauty around me as I move.
Susan, I totally understand the difficulty faced after a physical setback. Love your positive list of action words and that you end with happiness. Your last line is fantastic! Keep healing!
Susan, congratulations on the new knee! Lindsay Wagner, Bionic Woman, was a favorite of mine growing up, and I can still. hear the tones of the bionic ear when she would pull the hair back and listen, eavesdropping! You are ready to run like the wind and celebrate all the good things coming your way after your time on the couch. I raise a glass to you and the new lease on living it up!
Thanks, Kim.. I love that series of the Bionic Woman. Yes, I will be ready to run like the wind.
Ooof! I know you must be so ready to get moving. My loved one had a total knee replacement in April. She’s so happy to finally be back to walking 2-3 miles. It’s a long recovery but you know to ease into it I’m sure.
Wishing you a complete recovery!❤️🩹
Susan,
Congrats on “Getting Back to Movement.”
The cement metaphor is effective. Sorry that you’ve had to deal with that.
Love your list of what you’re getting back to, especially the last two lines.
Susan, congratulations on the bionic knee that will let your do all the things you want to do! Recovery is always hard and requires more pain that anyone could ever imagine!
Yes, Sue, you can do it! I believe in you, just take it easy at first. Sending healing thoughts.
Kim,
Thanks for hosting and providing just the prompt I needed today. Love hearing about your retirement adventures. Aren’t we fortunate to have more time to play, rest, and create?
Love all of this for you, especially:
Enjoy!
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
restoring
greeting the day on the mat
with cats, cows, and ankle CARS
taking Grace the Green out for a spin
freewheeling without a destination
crunch of gravel underneath her wheels
stopping in the shade
opening my composition notebook
on a bench by the water
pausing to plan and reflect
gliding my pen to follow the lines of leaves
writing to Wislawa
counting out syllables on my handlebars
as I pedal home to
drum a knife
against a wooden cutting board
hold the handle
of my grandmothers cast iron skillet
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
photo of Grace graces the home page of my blog, pedaling poet
Sharon, the imagery in your poem is truly delightful. I love cats, cows, and ankle CARS. The familial connection at the end is inspiring. Beautiful restorative poem!
Sharon, these gentle stretches for joint and mobility health are therapeutic and immediately I feel the peace and release upon greeting the day. The crunch of gravel under tires has always held a mesmerizing charm of rural beauty for me. I can see you there writing, another healing pull of ink and thought, and the fresh food you are making in your poem completes a total wellness picture of healing and grace. It’s a lovely poem, and pausing and reflecting are just a beautiful way to put a comma on the day.
Sharon, I’m smiling and grateful that Grace the Green looks exactly the way you describe in your wonderful poem. I also love that your inclusion of the cast iron skillet, again today, becomes a bit of a sequel to yesterday as if you were writing a book!
Sharon, I would like the same kind of restoring, maybe in a company of a good friend. Love the progression of restorative practices in these lines:
“stopping in the shade
opening my composition notebook
on a bench by the water
pausing to plan and reflect
gliding my pen to follow the lines of leaves”
And you bring your grandmother’s cast iron skillet again–beautiful! Thank you.
Sharon, I love the familiar images–your beautiful green bike, Grace, your grandmother’s cast iron skillet. And then the unfamiliar ones too. It all does sound restoring. Beautiful!
Sharon, I enjoyed reading your list of actions restoring – as always I admire your specificity allowing me to see you:
opening my composition notebook
on a bench by the water
pausing to plan and reflect
gliding my pen to follow the lines of leaves
writing to Wislawa
it feels so familiar
I felt as if I were pedaling along beside you! Your poem is infused with restorative moments-perfect title!
back to her
i consider our shared moon
echoing soft butter through puffs
of clouds fortside along Adriatic
everything that harvest glow
offered our hunger & thirst
we devoured until we learned
a savoring of ourselves
______________________
Beautiful, Kim. Getting back to pressing flowers, feels like an image and metaphor for what’s next. Maybe the title for your poetry collection on retirement.
Sarah, Ooooh, I love how this poem moves and opens with the “shared moon” and “clouds fortside along Adriatic”. The “a savoring of ourselves” is magical and adds such a wonderful sense of harmony to the entire piece. Gorgeous poem!
I love this, Sarah! So beautiful: the “soft butter,” “that harvest,” “hunger & thirst,” “devoured,” and “savoring.” So so good! And I love (and am intrigued by) the decision to use a lower-case “I.”
Sarah, savoring self/ourselves is sensual imagery of time spent, sharing moonlight and conversation. I imagine wine and just the right light of the moon and laughter and a breeze. Fortside is a clever word choice, there along the sea and I imagine something in a rock or port scape on the edge of a waterway. The kind of imagery I think of in a Greek photo of two friends at a small table with a bottle of wine, cheese, and grapes. So much to love here.
I was wanting to highlight every line as my favorite! This may be one of the most beautiful poems you’ve written, IMO. 🩵
This gave me a deep, healing breath! Thank you!
Sarah, the imagery of the shared moon and butter soft clouds that you devoured is absolutely beautiful. While I did stop to search the meaning of fortside without success, when I reread, the meaning was clear to me!
Sarah, I love every image in this poem beginning with “shared moon” and “soft butter through puffs of clouds.” And that the final line seals your return to yourself/yourselves. Magical!
Back to Blank
I pull the sketch I drew that day in May
Its melted ink runs down the crumpled edge
Forget which side is head and which is feet
Unsure if it can hold the newfound doubts
The back shows shapes pressed through the skimpy page
Illegible when ancient language drips
A case once cold now stretches toward a light
If only it would stick inside my mind
Oh,melted ink is a lovely and haunting phrase, Rachel. And that “shaped pressed through the skimpy page” evokes such mystery here. What a poem.
All of this imagery is so delicous…”melted ink, crumpled edge, shapes pressed through, ancient language” and the image of head and feet.
Rachel, the title is compelling and fits your poem beautifully. I love the imagery it evokes – – the imaginings of what the sketch is, and how it has changed over time. I love that ending – a case once cold now stretches toward a light. Hope, growth, closure or a beginning, it feels good.
Rachel, I just loved how evocative and enigmatic the imagery in this poem is. It’s lovely!
Rachel, everyone has already noticed your beautiful imagery. I also feel a Shakespearean vibe in the rhythm of your poem, especially in the final two lines.
Yes thank you, you noticed! I attempted my first “blank verse” which was a fun challenge and cheeky little joke with myself given the poem’s title, and the fact that it’s about returning to ELA studies after summer break. The iambic pentameter is a bit creatively imprecise, but an inspiring limitation! Thanks for noticing!
What a good prompt to start the Open Write. Thanks, Kim.
Getting Back to Baking a Poem
Getting back to flour on the counter,
to butter cut cold into possibility,
to trusting my hands to know what comes next.
Getting back to rolling out a beginning,
turning it, flouring it, rolling again,
patching the places where the dough tears thin.
Getting back to words—
blueberry words, blackberry words,
wild scuppernong words picked along a fence row,
sweet words and sharp ones
that stain my fingers when I press too hard.
Getting back to filling the empty space,
to knowing when enough is enough
and adding one more handful anyway.
Getting back to crimping the edges,
trying to keep everything contained,
knowing some things will bubble over
up and through and out,
of the pie
of the verse
juice hissing against the hot oven,
a line breaking loose from where I put it.
Getting back to waiting,
which may be the hardest part
of pie
or poetry.
Getting back to the warm kitchen,
to the glorious mess of making,
to cutting into what I made
before it has properly cooled
before the lines are fully set.
Getting back to discovering
the best poems, like the best pies,
rarely come out clean—
they spill a little,
stain something,
leave crumbs behind,
and still
we pull up a chair
and ask for another piece,
another slice of poem.
Whoa, Melanie! You had me from the butter and kept me through the empty plate needing another piece of poetry pie. Your masterpiece today is soul-baked, from the cold cut butter of possibility to the baking into the reality of all that is good in this world. I think my heart skipped a beat and laughed here
Getting back to filling the empty space,
to knowing when enough is enough
and adding one more handful anyway.
and here
Getting back to waiting,
which may be the hardest part
of pie
or poetry.
You have a delicious pie filled with the sweetness of berries and words, baked in a flaky brown crust that spills out with the fragrance for the whole ethicalela community to enjoy today! Bravo! And I want more of that pie.
Melanie. I love this poem so much. Getting back to rolling out a beginning — perfect. It is about pie, but it also not about pie at all in my reading. This feels like a life.
Sarah
This is incredible, Melanie! The way you weave poetry terms and naming terms and their ideas together is stuff of pure genius.
Melanie,
Just wow. This was gorgeous! What a beautiful, perfect piece of poetry.
Melanie, this wonderful slice of poetry is absolutely delectable!
Melanie, what a delicious way to bring in baking of poetry. This metaphor as a process of creation works so well–your constant movement from pies to words, from crust and bubbles to lines that are not cooled or set and end up with a delightful piece of pie or slice of poem. Glorious!
Finding myself: Again
Somewhere along the way,
I lost myself.
Where did that time go.
Where I used to
Have energy,
Have fun,
Explore,
Make art,
Want to travel,
Just want to be myself.
Somewhere along the way,
Life became black and white.
Each day became a chore.
Excitement turned to indifference.
My passion turned into work.
Anxiety rose.
Relationships became distant.
Decisions turned into questions.
Somewhere along the way,
Life became the same old pattern.
School.
Work.
Sleep.
Now.
Life is fading back.
Back into color.
Back into excitement.
Back into laughter.
Back into passion.
Back into my life.
My life.
He.
He opened my eyes.
Back into the world.
Back into my passions.
Back into my family.
Back into my excitement.
Back into life again.
Somewhere along the way,
Tiredness turned into strength.
Sadness turned into joy.
Darkness turned into light.
Somewhere along the way,
Life became life again.
He didn’t give me life,
He showed me life.
Emma, the power of people we love to make a difference – – oh, I feel the heartbeat of the joy of living here. Adulting sets in sometimes and takes a firm hold that makes it hard to find the balance and shun the mundane, but when others come alongside us and give us a new perspective of living and fun and adventure and exploration, we see the passion again…I’m so glad you shared this poem and how you’re getting back to the life you enjoy!
Emma, So beautiful. I noticed my eyes drawing down the page and as I did holding my breath to see where each line would lead and linger. Such a turn there into choosing life.
Your opening phrases caught my interest because I am trying to get back to myself as well after having a major surgery two months ago. I would love to have an important He help me out.
Oh my goodness, Emma…how expertly you capture all the feels of losing ourselves and then finding us again. I’m especially connect with
and the way you use contrasting ideas and feelings so well to show our extremes.
Emma, what a tribute – I feel the heartbeat of gratitude quickening in every line in your “Now,” with your “He.” You have been given a gift and you have, in turn, given us one this a day. Thank you-
Emma, this was lovely! Loved the repetition or both words and structure that made this flow so beautifully.
Emma, these are such powerful lines: “Life is fading back. / Back into color. / Back into excitement. / Back into laughter.” Thank you for crafting and sharing this!
Kim, you’re generating “True Confessions” today. Okay, here’s mine.
Back to Listening
For so long, I saw myself as the problem solver.
For so long, I saw myself as the solution finder.
For so long, I thought as a debater:
Find the weak spot and point it out.
Quietly. I didn’t have to shout.
Now I’m experiencing the value of listening.
Listening and learning,
Still eager to share
Just to show I care
But learning to listen is reducing the load
I’m learning the answer often already is there.
Showing I care, pointing out what’s there
In what you bring to the table.
Learning together, we are able
With collaboration to meet the need
And get back to the food and feed
Our bellies, having fun, being more TEAM stable.
Oh, wow. This is just so lovely. I love the repetition of “for so long” and “now I’m.” There is so much beauty here–the lines about being still eager to care, learning together. This just touched me so much.
Anna, your graphic shows the engagement of conversation, and the power of listening. I love all of this, but especially these keen lines:
But learning to listen is reducing the load
I’m learning the answer often already is there.
I’ve often heard it said that a lot of what we see depends on what we’re looking for, and you show that hearing (and answers) often depend on what we are listening for…..so many times, what we don’t see right in front of us requires opening our ears and our eyes. You are a good problem solver and solution finder and always will be, and now you’re finding new ways of showing how you can do that….including through a poem!
Anna, what an excellent lesson for us all. The message of your poem is so badly needed right now.
Oh, Kim . . . to see your sweet smiling face via photo on this Saturday morning as the host just makes me so dang happy. My first thought was “It’s RETIRED KIM!” and then your poem enumerates all the wonderful things you are getting back to . . .
being my favorite.
Back to Me
I want to get back to me
but a me I’ve never been
I want the wisdom
but not the weight
I want the altruism
but not the aches and pains
I want the freedom
but not the forgetfulness
I want the insight
but not the inflexibility
I want the confidence
without the cynicism
I want to keep the blessings
but lose the burdens
~Susan Ahlbrand
19 September 2026
Susan— “the blessings” without “the burdens”. All of what you said, but especially this!
“I want to keep the blessings
but lose the burdens”
I love this ending. I feel like a lot of people feel this and you put it into words perfectly.
Susan, I usually hang on a line or two of a poem. Today, I’m hanging on all these lines you have written in a way that really gets us thinking. Not only is it deep in its cerebral considerations of each desire, but also you have managed to write it with alliteration and made the universal specific to our perceptions. For example, I might have started I want the cake, but not the weight …and thought I had an internal rhyming poem – -you have gone much, much deeper into the maturity of the human spirit than a mere slice of cake. Wisdom, with its 360 degree voice of experience, carries so much weight of the knowing that it takes to add reason to choice and the unintended consequences of decisions no matter which way we look. Those final two lines bring us to the essence of the poem, wanting the blessings and not the burdens of all the pains of this world. I adore what you have done here…..and I want to be that new me, too. Wow. Just wow.
I love the comparisons you wove through this. The “this” without “that”…oh, it felt so very real. And that last line? the blessings without the burden–LOVE IT.
Thank you for this poem! I’ve been thinking about the merge between the old self and current self, how to be a third, even-more-me version. Appreciate this!
Susan, I feel you! Wouldn’t it be great to have the wisdom and maturity when we were younger? Somehow I feel like my daughters are way more mature and wise than I was at their age, and I’m thankful every day for that.
Susan, you speak for most of us if we’d just be honest. It would be great to be here, reading and reflecting on the poems, and not acknowledge that it’s the burdens that let us know we have been blessed anyway. We’re here, and reading and writing about burdens reminds us of how blessed we truly are. Thanks for the reminder.
Kim — Your poem and this prompt are priceless. Encouraging us to get back to our real selves… that’s downright essential, therapeutic, delicious. The very best of my life has been these “retired” years that have afforded me the avenue for connecting the best of my past with the glory of a present I can now see and experience with so much more of my own capacity. Thank you for starting this day for me in such a meaningful way. You are, and our dear friends here on ethicalela, are a gift. Hugs and love, Susie
Kim—good to see you again!! Congratulations, especially on the peeing schedule! I wanted to write something positive. My poem, unfortunately, wrote itself…
Back To
I want to
get back to
looking at the world
without grief
for what
we have become.
GJ Sands
9-19-26
Gayle, I feel this. Truly. Love, Susie
Oh, Gayle . . . this is sooo right! We move forward looking for good but living with grief. You nailed it here.
Gayle, when the poem writes itself, the muse has struck and pulled out what we humans of the universe need to hear. Your poem cuts straight to the heart of getting back to better days when humanity was still at the helm and agendas were just papers that guided meetings. It’s a gold nugget poem, shining a spotlight on the heart. Well done.
Well, true words written here. What a powerful punch.
Oh Gayle! This is a wonderful plea to getting back to what we know we can be. I hope we make it back.
Gayle, your poem says it all. Same for me.
Gayle, I feel the weight of grief in your words. I know how poems can write themselves…and I think something positive is tucked in there. It is a heart that cares for others. Wants things to be better for others. For all of us – the “we”. As long as people can feel that… we have hope. Thank you for this-
Oh, Gayle, I know. Often the pen leads us where it hurts. Sending positive vibes and kind thoughts 🤗
Today
it’s back to the basics
Up with the sunrise
Breakfast laughs
A walk in the woods
Apple picking
Sweating
Sweating
Sweating
Cooling down at the mall museum
Did I mention the Italian
man cooking me dinner?
Air conditioning
Story telling
Wine
Laughter
Wine
Laughter
Wine
Laughter
Sleep
by Mo Daley 9/19/26
Joy. That’s what this poem is!
Mo — Sounds like hitting the lotto!
Mo, oh – the joy of sunrise, of breakfast, of walking in woods, of crisp apples, of stories and Ir and wine and laughter and sleep. The very best things are not in mansions or machines or Maseratis. They are in the basics – in food, in human connection, in tasting all that life has to offer. Your poem shows this and nails the very truth of the roots of living.
Your poem just puts me in a fall mood. I love it. It describes the simple things, yet brought me so much joy reading it.
Absolutely love the repetition here! So, so much joy in this poem. What a gift to share.
Mo, I love the insert of “Did I mention the Italian/man cooking me dinner?” That sounds so delightful. Such a fun poem and wonderful use of repetition to add to the tone and message.
Mo, I almost wrote about back to the basics as well! What a lovely depiction of your day – so many celebratory things, good things in life ripe for the taking. Carpe diem! I bet that dinner was amazing. I can imagine the aroma as it cooks…
Mo, wine, laughter, and sleep may be the must-have ingredients! The Italian man cooking dinner sounds awesome and romantic 🙂
Hello, Kim and Glenda, and all y’all.
It is good to be back at Ethical ELA for the Open Write.
Thank you for the prompt and poems. Kim: I cannot wait for the change of pace you capture in your celebratory retirement poem. I laughed aloud at “peeing on my own schedule” – how can non-teachers know?? I could linger long with you and the hummingbirds on those back roads. Glenda: Your little “memento mori” poem carries a mighty burst of power – the title, a redemption. It stirs a childhood memory of walking tiny old cemeteries with my grandmother, me wondering what all those people and their lives were like, beginning to understand that the time comes for us all. So, yes let us get back to living…and writing of it.
Back to the Drawing Board
Time colors
my hair silver
my eyes dimmer
my bones thinner
my veins larger
my challenges greater.
It would color
my spirit
but my spirit
is timeless.
It still sings, my spirit;
still stretches its wings
for ever how old
I am
I remain
a canvas
for God to do
new things.
Fran, you have a way of sharing truth in poems with acceptance, softness, hope, and promise. I’m glad you are writing with us today. How we have missed you, friend! Your words are timely and apt. I made the decision at retirement to stop coloring my hair and embrace the gray, but now I’m going to say, “I’m silvering,” (a Fran-ism) instead of “I’m graying.” I needed that. I think you could write a devotional book in all poetry, and this would be for the women who need the reassurance that life still holds purpose for our spirits no matter our age. Beautiful and joyful!
Fran, your poem speaks to my soul. You have written all my feelings! I’m visiting with friends and we were just talking about these things last night. I feel seen.
Fran— wow. Your practical and honest start, and the joy that follows. Your timeless spirit is always lovely!
I really appreciate what you had to say in your poem. I love how you separated your spirit from yourself. I always hear that spirits don’t age and I truly believe this. Your poem described that perfectly!
Fran, wow, what a wonderful message. I love the shift to the power of your timeless spirit. Your faith speaks volumes in this poem. Bravo!
Fran,
Theres a lot of humor in the book I referenced, as well as a lot of learning for the protagonist. I think there’s something youthfulabout learning, and that’s what I’m taking away from your poem.
What a delicious prompt! I’m about 3 years out and I cannot help but to dream about all the things I want to get back to!
I’ll get back to driving
down a highway under September
blue sky.
I’ll get back to waking
with the light and not before.
Talking long on a phone
or maybe even writing a letter.
Walking in a woods,
picking up pinecones
breathing deep.
I’ll get back to savoring
an ice tea over lunch
while turning pages.
I’ll get back to it all.
Linda, I sense your depth of gratitude for the simple pleasures, and I love that you wrote a back to poem in future tense, thinking of the time and pacing to enjoy it all more fully. The word savor sticks with me – – something that invites the reader to sit on the porch with you and pour a glass and open a book. I can already hear the drizzle of rain drumming the lily pads, and that adds the best sound backdrop for reading with tea on a porch. Thanks for writing today!
Linda, reading your words and savoring these images takes me back to a place of peace. I shall make time to get back to it all. Except maybe waking with the light and not before… that seems to be a great challenge of late, time change notwithstanding. But I did sleep a litte alter today, so it’s a start 🙂
Linda — When you visualize each of these acts, it strikes me how good people are, how little they ask of the world, how decent people can be. These days, we need a lot of “getting back.” Ahhhh. Thank you, Susie
Hi Kim
Thanks for the prompt the poems by Glenda and yourself.
I found myself the other day returning to a song I had started but never finished.
Kevin
I’m getting back to song:
swimming the rhythm
of words again, replacing
runs and phrases like kayaks
loose on the current, playing
each verse in reverse to
rediscover the chorus, ideas
are the trees in this forest
in which something near true
arises, anew
Kevin, I’m glad you picked it back up. Something I remember Ada Limon sharing is that she sometimes starts a poem and puts it away, then returns to it later to see if the seed starter has taken root and wants to bloom. Sounds like you did that too. There’s a songwriters’ festival at Lanier Islands (Lake Lanier, Georgia) one weekend in November, and I’ll be that would be a wonderful place to write songs. Thanks for writing today and sharing your poem. I’ll carry the image of a loose kayak and a tune on a breeze.
Kevin, it’s a wonderful feeling to get back to an unfinished creation – the rediscovery, ideas as trees in the forest where something “near true arises, anew” – gloriously-worded. Definitely true.
Kevin—your poems always seem musical to me. “Swimming the rhythm”—what a perfect line!
Love this! “swimming in the rhythm of words” and “phrases like kayaks loose on the current”–wow! There is so, so much to love here and so much of it is wrapped up in the deep joy you are sharing.
Kevin, I love the way you write about your song work. “swimming the rhythm”, “replacing runs and phrases like kayaks loose on the current,”ideas are trees in the forest.” I love you play with metaphor.