This is the Open Write, a place for educators to nurture their writing lives and to advocate for writing poetry in community. We gather every month and daily in April — no sign-ups, no fees, no commitments. Come and go as you please. All that we ask is that if you write, you respond to others to mirror to them your readerly experiences — beautiful lines, phrases that resonate, ideas stirred. Enjoy. (Learn more here.)
Our Host
Mo lives in a Chicago suburb with her husband and two extremely spoiled senior citizen dogs. She is busier than ever after retiring from a career as a middle-school reading specialist. Mo loves to travel and spend time with her family, especially her two talented, charming, intelligent, and handsome grandsons. Lately dreaming up home renovation projects has kept her busy. She co-authored 90 Ways of Community: Nurturing Safe and Inclusive Classrooms Writing One Poem at a TIme with Sarah Donovan and Maureen Ingram.
Inspiration
Several years ago, one of our writers introduced us to the National Day Calendar. I noticed that today happens to be National Clean Out Your Refrigerator Day.
I don’t know about you, but I love a good cleaning, whether it’s the refrigerator, a closet, or my husband’s car!
Today’s poem is meant to be about cleaning out a refrigerator or something else in your life. You can take this prompt literally or metaphorically. Feel free to explore the feelings that arise from this cleaning.
Process
Write your poem about cleaning in any form you’d like. I chose to use rhyming couplets for a playful poem. Maybe you’d like to try a limerick or a free verse poem. Choose a form that suits your tone and write!
Mo’s Poem
A Farewell to Leftovers
The holidays will soon be here
And my fridge is a mess, I swear!
The cucumber is quite squishy
And the leftover salmon smells fishy.
I didn’t think the casserole would spoil
Since I wrapped it tightly in aluminum foil.
So now it’s time to clean and wipe
And get rid of the fruit that’s overripe.
A sadness comes over me with all this waste,
As my healthy eating plans are erased.
Time to get rid of the mold and clutter
And the nasty foods that make me shudder.
Remove, wipe, sanitize,
Deodorize, reset, organize.
I promise myself not to ignore
My well-being anymore.
I’ll eat what I buy and not neglect
The food that becomes brown and specked.
My clean fridge is a matter of pride
Even if I had to commit germicide!
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.
End of the College Year
We pick up our rooms
Clean up the memories
Fix anything that fell along the way
Scrub until its squeaky clean
Unplug everything that kept us together
Thank people for good times
And wait until it can start again
College,
What a joy it is
What a blessing to be sad to pack up
What a God-given gift to miss loved ones
The best years of my life
That I wish to never end
We pick up the papers,
We put things away.
We clean up our classroom
At the end of the day.
We wipe off the tables,
We put chairs in a row.
The room starts to sparkle
It really does glow.
When everything’s tidy,
It feels nice and new.
A clean, happy classroom
Is better for me and you.
I love this poem and can connect as I want to be a teacher!
SL, this sounds like it could be a classroom mantra at the end of the day. I think kids would love to clean up to it!
Mo, commiting germicide is a must, lol. Thank you for a wonderful prompt today. I just got home, so my offering is very brief, but I want to sit one day and work on it some more:
***
Day in New Orleans
With a dear friend from New York–
Best mind cleansing.
I love how you worked mind cleansing into your fun day with your friend, Leilya. That’s the best kind of cleaning!
Lovely, Leilya.
Time with a friend is indeed the
Leilya, how fun. That’s the best kind of cleansing!
Leilya,
Yes! I bet you were able to cleanse your mind of all the stuff as you focused on friends and fun in NOLA, one of my favorite places.
I started this poem a couple of weeks ago and found it on my poetry document when I opened it tonight to write about cleaning.
I still want to write about cleaning. But I also want to share this with my fellow teachers.
The Student
He’s small for a sophomore
But sizes up
With an eye roll
On the offense.
He’s two speeds:
On
Or off
No humming on idle.
As his teacher,
Both speeds
Rivet
My concern.
In the hall
After class
He pauses
With a question:
Did I know
Erika Kirk
Was speaking
At high schools?
In one second
I sift through
Headlines of
Teachers fired.
[don’t speak]
I weigh my words
“I didn’t
know that.”
“Do you like Charlie
Kirk?”
Present tense.
I’m pulling
For this kid.
He’s not
Mine yet.
Nor am I his.
It’s October and
We’re still figuring it out.
“I think
Charlie Kirk
–like all of us–
is complex,”
I say,
Buying time,
Threading a
Tight needle.
Now sewing a
Complicated
Stitch:
I’m not ready
To lie.
Or lose my job.
Or lose the
Fragile truce with
This hard-knot child.
I weave my words
Tenuously.
“I think he did
Some good things–”
I’m inching
Around the
Rim
Toes
Clinging to the ledge
Above the canyon
Of lying.
“But he said
Some things
I found problematic.”
–There are only
Three minutes
Between classes.–
But the
Conversation
Isn’t over.
“Like what?”
He asks.
His eyes aren’t rolling.
My mind rolodexes
Through what
I know of
Kirk’s comments
As I search for one
That might not fray
Our fragile fabric
“He spoke
Against women
Working,”
I said,
“And you
Know how much
I love teaching.”
He nodded
And headed to
The next class.
Oh, wow, Allison. Your poem so vividly expresses what I mean when I tell people teachers have to walk a tightrope. The tension between speaking your mind and losing your job is palpable enough, but you add in such a special and impressionable young man. Holy cow. Your thoughtful words and care for his feelings shine through. It sure sounds like you made huge steps toward an important relationship with this young man. I am in awe.
Thank you for sharing this poem about your student, Allison! I can relate to the situation when I want to respond to a student’s question honestly, yet tread carefully because my understanding and beliefs might be far off what they hear at home and/or believe. You found an intelligent way out of this line of questioning.
Allison,
Thank you for sharing this powerful poem. I can feel your deep respect and care for your student. Excellent job conveying the tricky balance of your desire to strengthen your relationship, maintain your integrity and not say anything that you could get you fired for no good reason. Teaching is such hard and important work. Your students are fortunate to have you as their teacher.
Oh, wow. Great recovery! What a terrific poem, Allison. I love the careful weaving you’ve done throughout. You found the perfect example of something problematic he said. And that rolodexing verb is magical.
Allison, I was right there with you the entire time in the game. I love how you created the idea of the game the student plays and then the questions he asked – – it gave the feel of avoiding the whistle on the court/field and in the hallway with questions that could not be truthfully answered. You are a wise woman and a dedicated teacher. And in this political climate, sometimes those two things are at odds. You navigated it beautifully!
This is such a great poem. Thank you for sharing!
The Joys of Pet Ownership
Vacuuming, mopping,
Washing the sheets and comforter,
I pause, brushing hair out of my eyes
And notice the cat,
watching me over his shoulder
eyes half closed,
arching an eyebrow
against the sun’s slant.
Silly, arrogant human.
As hard as you clean,
we cannot be erased.
But I continue, gratified
by the canisters of hair and dust
I empty from the vacuum.
The floor gleams in cahoots with me.
And then I head downstairs
where the dog greets me,
fur flying from his wagging tail.
Yes, Katrien! You nailed it. I have two older dogs now, so let’s just say cleaning up after them has changed a bit recently. I love how you are gratified by the canisters of hair and dust. I thought I was the only one!
I loved this line: arching an eyebrow
against the sun’s slant.
Katrien, salut from the furry pet parent here! Love your gratification and these lines:
“As hard as you clean,
we cannot be erased.”
The dog’s wagging tail wins over me every time. Thank you for sharing.
Yes! I am amazed at all the hair and dust that comes out of the vacuum after having a cat. I like the dialogue the cat gives you while arching an eyebrow. Cats rule the house!
Haha, Katrien, you seem outnumbered. Fun poem, and the last stanza is a perfect ending.
This is so relatable with dogs at home. They can be a mess!
Thinking this
would be simple,
easy, efficient,
I googled
“words used
in cleaning”
and found out
there’s a 3-minute
rule in cleaning,
a 1% rule of cleaning,
an 80/20 rule of cleaning
a 7-step process
(or 7 stages) of cleaning,
4 C’s of decluttering,
4 elements and 3
main types, 5 basic
principles, as well as
one golden rule
of cleaning
(not to mention
the 400+ words
related to cleaning
or the 113 common
Housekeeping Vocabulary
Terms):
enumerating this
was exhausting.
____________________________________________________
Thanks, Mo for your poem and prompt today! And for letting me put off cleaning my office so that I could write this poem (and fall down a “let’s research cleaning” rabbit hole).
Scott,
Love the humor in your poem!
I think the exhaustive list of cleaning tips is on point because decluttering is definitely exhausting! Definitely not a simple task.
Scott, thanks for all the research. Your poem reads like an informational text, that could send your reader to research even more. I’m quite keen to find out what the “4C’s of decluttering” are.
This is funny and so true. All the “life hacks” for cleaning because the people googling it hate it. Fun poem.
Scott, you must be part bunny, because it sure seems like you enjoy a good rabbit hole once in a while! Also, I’m shocked that there isn’t one correct way to clean, since I tell my husband that all the time. Anyway, your poem made me laugh, so it’s a clean sweep for you!
Scott, your ending gave me a loud smile. 🙂
I’m always happy to find your poems.
Such a fun poem! This research sounds laborious too, Scott! Lol. I much prefer just get to it without any numbers in mind. Your poem made me smile, again ))
Hi Mo, love the ending with germicide. Thank you for hosting today.
Washing words
Clean out the use of intentional
Scrub away the layers of being authentic
Polish the impact of calculated choices
Realize a spotless plan might have an altered purpose
Dry out sooty, overused, inflated adjective-d actions
Rinse, reset, repeat…
Stefani
Indeed words can be “sooty, overused, inflated …”
I love the idea of washing words, especially given the toxic political climate we are currently living in.
Stefani,
Amen! Purge those cliches and jargon. “Let’s get into it” popped into my mind as I read this poem. A perfect poem going into NCTE.
Stefani, the end of your poem, “Rinse, reset, repeat” shows the continuous cycle that cleaning and decluttering demands.
Stefani, I live this approach. I can’t help but think this would be a great introduction for a writing class. Love it!
Stefani, love the call in final lines:
“Dry out sooty, overused, inflated adjective-d actions
Rinse, reset, repeat…”
Thank you for this! Hope to see you at NCTE next week.
Diving in head first felt like gold,
each day I was being more controlled.
Shouldn’t this be more fun?
I know I am done.
I soon won’t be trapped in your hold.
DJ, thank you for sharing today. I am so intrigued to know more and wonder if this is a “human” you are cleaning out of your life.
DJ,
I love that your poem leaves me with so many possible interpretations and ideas to wonder about? Who or what is doing the controlling? Love the intrique and feeling of liberation!!
D J, your poem is so engaging. I had to re-read and still had many questions. The first line “Diving in head first felt like gold,” is definitely a hook.
Ooh. You’ve given us some things to ponder, DJ. I’m thinking Shouldn’t this be more fun? is a question we should all ask ourselves more often.
“Diving” and “hold” make me picture a ship somehow–you being trapped “in the hold.” Fun double meanings and rhythm make this potentially very sad subject feel somehow lighthearted–or at least positive and freeing. This would be a great one to show my students about the way form affects tone!
DJ, things that anchor us, or narcissists that attempt to control us – – both so tethering, I’m glad you are cleaning out whatever or whomever it is that has its claws in you.
dusting the dresser
Yesterday I dusted the dresser.
A task long past due.
Already I was vacuuming the bedroom rug,
after hosting a Great Pyrenees.
It’s a long dresser.
A piece of furniture I admire today,
as much as I had the day I put it on layaway.
Beginning on one end.
Removing, sorting, dusting – thanks to my hand vac.
Afterwards I hand wiped the stack of pictures,
and placed them along the wall. A line of familiar faces.
The stack of collected papers are gone.
Only one sheet remains – already tucked into its folder.
The remaining stray objects rest on the window sill above –
a glass egg and a vase – along with a few jewelry boxes.
And once again, I am able to enjoy the wood grain I fell in love with.
The way your illustrated how the chaos of life can cover the foundation that originally set it up was beautiful. Life gets so busy that it can be hard to expose and remember what we really love and I love how you described that.
Jamie, I’d love to see an image of this dresser. I love that you end with the admiration for the wood grain–a unique feature. Thank you for sharing today.
I thought I was the only one who enjoyed a freshly dusted and organized dresser, but you’ve painted us a perfect picture, Jamie. I especially love the detail about the Great Pyrenees visitor.
I love this about dusting the dresser. You’ve described a task I did often until I downsized. I now have an old dresser sitting in my garage and gathering dust. Time to call the Salvation Army for pick up and let someone else use it.
I wish this were not so relatable! I own a Great Pyrenees, and I, too, have a dresser that becomes the resting place for everything. I don’t think I have seen the wood grain in months!
Your poem does a beautiful job turning a simple cleaning task into something meaningful. The imagery is warm and clear, especially the way you describe the dresser and the “line of familiar faces.”
Letting Go
It is time to dissolve
The anchors that burden my soul
Regret that creeps in when I’m alone
The time that’s has escaped, I can’t reclaim
But dreams I’ve dreamed still remain and
Wishes upon stars are like kisses of faith
I can feel the emotion of the weight of dreams changing and shifting away as life carries on past them in this poem. The idea that there is always quiet hope is something to cling to as regret passes through. I really enjoyed this poem!
Take, your poem is so short but really accomplishes so much. I felt the heaviness of the anchors burdening your soul, but those kisses of faith were so delightfully unexpected.
Tammi, your poem holds a lot and got me thinking about the push and pull of relationships or things we possess.
This is really delicate and beautiful. Thank you for sharing this short and sweet piece.
Tammi, your poem speaks of soul burdens that are intangible but so real. Your words are carefully chosen and carry that heavy emotional weight. Thank you for sharing!
“Cleaning House”
She lies awake in convalescent bed
And here, at home, I order what I can:
Rummage cupboards, spoiled can by can
Disposing them to try and clear my head.
Containers bulge with ripened, rotten fruit
Meals unmade, ingredients unused
Are full to bursting – dusty, battered, bruised.
Rimmed with rust, this lonely task they suit.
Into garbage, expiration dates
Years, familiar, by my eyes swim past:
my daughter’s birth; our marriage; memories mass:
A pile of rubbish all those cans create
And build a pyre of waste, despair, and gloom.
But I can only work to clean this room.
Wendy — I feel the weight of melancholy in your poem. Your images are so vivid, and I can relate to your desire to clean in order to keep your mind occupied. Comfort is found interesting ways.
Wendy, the pain is palpable in all the visuals poem evokes. So much sorrow in the slow loss of life and in the eventual clearing away of all the things that hold memories and love.
Hugs.
Oh, Wendy, you have captured a difficult moment. A new chapter of life and pain. The stanza about the dates on the expired food making you recall past events in your life was poignant. Then you left feeling “I can only work to clean this room” is sad, but also at least something. Your sonnet skills are impressive.
I’ve seen this, too, Wendy. Your poem makes me feel sad, but your use of the word pyre really hit me hard.
What a challenging form, and you’ve done a wonderful job with it! I especially like the repeated but not repeated “can”–the same word meaning different things. This poem, like others, is very relatable for me, and I appreciate very much the idea of being able to control only certain things, as well as navigating what is “rubbish” and what is precious. And who’s to say?
I like how your poem is so meaningful and filled with sorrow and emotion. Definitely hit me while reading.
Clothes
I’m told…
That I hold onto too many clothes.
A sweater the no longer fits my new curves,
The pants that no longer zip or button.
And even the shoes that squeeze.
But the part they don’t see…
Is that each article holds a memory.
My favorite sweater that feels like school.
The pants the hold onto all the laughs.
And the shoes that walked a million miles.
How could you get rid of those?
My mother would totally agree with you. I struggled to help her purge because every item held special memories. Thank you for reminding me of her today.
🩵
Grace, this was so relatable! So many times have I wished that I HAD held onto some of my treasure old article of clothing, and now they’re done forever. Loved your imagery in this poem!
Grace — Love these line –“The pants the hold onto all the laughs.
And the shoes that walked a million miles.”
I agree. Sometimes it is hard to part with clothing that holds special memories.
What terrific personification in your poem today, Grace. I sometimes struggle holding onto clothes too long, but it’s usually because of a delusion that they’ll fit again one day.
The rhyming is so sweet here. I love the images of each article. Warm hugs indeed.
Hi Mo! Thank you for welcoming us into November doing what I love, cleaning up and out!! I am trying my darndest to strategize clearing my classroom by June so that the next teacher to take my forever home away from home won’t need to hire a U-Haul to remove my things. 😄 Mo, please feel free to share advice on how to retire without taking my whole classroom with me.
I loved your poem, Mo. I had instant flashbacks of cleaning out my mom’s fridge when she would go out of town. That was the only time we could toss all her stale food.
I wrote two nonets to make one poem about my stuff in my classroom.
Stuff I Save
Teaching forty years means I have STUFF!
Ditto books with deep blue ink stains
frayed folders holding photos
notes from teachers’ trainings
curriculum guides
students’ artwork
cassette tapes
CDs
Stuffed
inside
file drawers
and closet shelves
memories of my
love for teaching children
professional goals achieved
unopened books I’d hoped to read
and class pictures I will never toss
©Stacey L. Joy, 11/15/25
Stacey, I loooove this! I loved the hourglass shape of your poem — so fitting! And then I wondered why I didn’t write about this — I’m retiring next year and have been cleaning house — and you totally inspired me to write some poetry about it. Thanks! 😉
Yay!! Go for it!! I know you will write exactly what we both need. 🍎
Stacey, whaddya think? 🙂
The slow purge of days
begins early. At year minus-five,
the binders hit the trash
full with years of my mind.
No room
to stash them at home.
Into the bin. At year minus-two,
the books: which to save?
Which to pitch? Will I read?
Rest? Die? Most are kept.
They populate new bookshelves,
groaning with weight
and promises of lazy days.
The closets next. Collections
of student gifts, pictures,
mugs – an antique bazaar
of the last almost-30 years
of my life. The desk will be last,
when all has been boiled
down to that single space,
broken-drawered and yawning
as if awaking to greet
its new owner.
Wendy, you go, girl! You are going to be ready! Nice recipe for getting ready for retirement.
What a plan, Wendy! The books were hardest for me. I had thousands in my room. I am finding new joy in sending them out into the world. I love the antique bazaar you showed us.
You nailed it!!
Stacey,
Wow! This line –“Ditto books with deep blue ink stains” –really took me back in time.Teaching resources sure have changed! I hope you have a wonderful final year of teaching and good luck with the clean up!
Hi Stacey, you must have such mixed emotions this year. I can’t wait for you to publish a book of verse about your 40 years I can use with our pre-service educators ;)! Oh the ditto books. You have no doubt impacted so many lives and future generations with your joy. Thank you for sharing today.
Thank you!! Are you putting a book about my teaching in my universe??? 😊
Stacey, you have captured the collection of stuff teachers all have, I was fortunate to change rooms and buildings many times and yet my load was still enormous. I chose to fill 2 Rubbermaid bins to take home. It was mostly professional books and a few special notes from children. I left SO many books that I ended up rebuying for grandchildren! Oh well, I was a literacy specialist and books were / still are my world!
Wow. I don’t think I’ll be so fortunate to have two bins. I’ve been in my current room for 27 of my 40 years. It’s home. 😔😔😔
Stacey, I feel every line of this! This is year 31 for me, and, yikes, there is just so much stuff! A classroom well-lived accumulates a bit of clutter, I guess, lol. Thanks for crafting and sharing this!
Stacey, hooray for those 40 years of filling up your room. Here’s to new ways to gather the greatness without bringing truckloads home. You’ll find a way to store the memories and joys, while you clean up and clean out.
Stacey,
I recognize the detritus in your classroom. I kind of feel sorry for young teachers who will never know the fun of inked fingers and trying to keep that one kid from sniffing the mimeograph paper. I met a lot of kids when I cleaned out my room and word of free books got around the school. The menial clean out became joyful. I hope it is for you, too.
I am not a good person to ask for advice, Stacey! It’s been 2 1/2 years and I am finally down to one card table of “stuff” in my basement. You’ve captured perfectly how those things we save can define us, but I am finding a sense of freedom in letting go. Love your poem!
I have definitely adopted a “purge it all” mindset after inheriting classrooms and moving schools, but I also see the beautiful gifts and memories held in these items. Especially now when education seems so so so different than the kind with the cassettes.
Stacey, so true! Your treasures are priceless. Teaching is your life. How can anyone get rid of a lifetime? Beautiful poem!
Sweep
Dust in morning light
even stillness shifts its weight,
ready for the new
I really like this! The last line really captures the whole poem. “Ready for a new” is so great!
Oh, this was just lovely. That second line was perfectly elegant. What a beautiful haiku.
This is fascinating! The opening pulled me right in. There’s something magical about it.
Dust in morning light…
I love the hope in your poem. The title “Sweep” is just perfect!
That last line sits ready for life and all its dust to return. Lovely
Who would have thought someone could write such a beautiful haiku about sweeping. Wow. I’m in awe, as I continue to read it over and over. Beautiful!
I love the turn in your middle line. It’s haiku magic!
“Even stillness shifts its weight” – brilliant! Thank you for this amazing line.
I love how “Dust” can function as both a noun and a verb in your first line, N/A. Thanks for sharing this with us today!
Riddance
Grandma was stiff and proper
Lots of money, never a pauper
On her table a punchbowl of glass
I coveted as I would pass
Now stored, gathering dust
In my cabinet. Needs cleaning, I must!
Never used. Can I give it away?
It sits still to this day
Glass cloudy with age
How old? Hard to gage
Out of the cabinet it goes
to recycle with clothes
Take a photo and write
about Grandma’s delight
Keep the memories on hand
and now clutter is banned.
Thanks, Mo, for your delightful poem and so appropriate for this time of year when making room for the food of a Thanksgiving celebration. Your prompt made me finish a task that I had been looking at but not doing.
Susan, I can totally relate to keeping that glass bowl around way too long. My goal is to write and talk more about those memories. I hope my children will appreciate them! Thanks for the reminder to let go once in a while.
This is so real and relatable. I love how it captures the mix of memories, and finally letting go. Keep up the amazing work
Susan, your focus on that dusty relic tied to so many memories is so very relatable. I still miss many item given away when I moved to a much smaller place; yet, the clutter is less…if not banned!
A sweet way to say “thank you” and move along. Thank you for sharing this piece about a relatable heirloom dilemma
Susan, this is really lovely. This reminds me so much of my experience with my own grandmother and all of her treasures.
Susan, this was great! I found it so relatable: those objects that we covet, own, then don’t even (or rarely) use! And I loved the ending, where your speaker found a way to cherish it even though they “Marie Kondo’d” it, lol. This was so good.
I also loved the title!
Susan, I love that you captured a photo of the punch bowl and a poem to go with it. That is a better way to deal with clutter than to let it accumulate. It’s funny how we can fill up each space to overflowing, no matter the size of our spaces. Nice rhyming too. It was fun to read.
Susan,
I have tchotchkes that were my grandmother’s. They’re boxed and put away. Not sure what to do w/ them. Good job patti g w/ the punch bowl. I was going to suggest putting Christmas bulbs in it.
Glenda, your idea of Christmas bulbs in it would be beautiful. However, then, it would still take up space in my cabinet afterwards.
Mo, thank you for hosting today! Your poem is a delight. It reminded me of Shel Silverstein. Love the idea of committing germicide. I need to do some of that!
Flowers of Democracy
I sit on this Saturday morning
and watch the rain fall in
amiable drops,
relishing the petrichor bouquet,
as the rain washes the air of dust and dread.
The wildflower seeds have recently
been scattered.
Winter is coming
and then the spring blossoming,
the summer growth
and the autumn tsunami
when we will watch
justice roll down like waters,
righteousness like a mighty stream*,
Seeds of love and hope scattering
forward-blooming and beautiful.
____________________________________
*Amos 5:24
Denise, I so admire how you can take a quiet, thought-provoking morning and turn it into something so much bigger than itself. This poem is breathtaking.
You have brought to mind that even in beauty and freshness we still long for justice and righteousness. Oh I hope the seeds of love with sprout! Thanks for your thoughts on this.
I especially love how you connect the slow rhythm of nature with the slow work of justice it gives the poem this steady, grounding feeling of hope. Amazing poem keep up the great work 😀
Denise, you have taken this notion of cleaning house to the highest level (pun intended) as so many of us watch and hope and pray that justice will at some point prevail. I have always held onto the idea that the “good guys” win in the end….but sometimes….the path is long and painful. It is very hard to maintain the “faith” in justice these days.
Oh, Denise, I love the opening beauty of your poem and your closing question is everything. Incredible poem!
Denise, I loved your nouns — the descriptions they created were so unique: “petrichor bouquet” (I have a student who loved this word and would try to use it in her poems often); “spring blossoming,” “autumn tsunami” — great imagery! And then that last stanza — talk about a shift. I, too, hope that we are headed in that direction.
Ohhh, what a treat you have shared with us. I adore these lines:
I pray the ending comes to pass for all of us. Lord knows, we need it!
❤️
Denise,
I love the hope you embrace in looking forward to a literal winter, followed by a fall of justice. It made me think of MLK’s reference to the same piece of scripture. I love the reference to the air of dust and dread as well.
Denise,
Love the MLK quote juxtaposed w/ those glorious images of nature. You know I’m here for the poetry whipping of the evil one.
Denise, these lines create such an exceptional image:
“amiable drops,
relishing the petrichor bouquet”
And then you move through the seasons focusing on the season of justice with “seeds of love and hope.” Just incredible!
Thanks for the prompt Mo. I also tried the rhyming couplets.
The Plan
The plan is to clear
the fridge.To get to the rear,
where many goodies lodge
So they do not dodge
the hands that will collect
the food I neglect
When the daily meal is only dinner,
in the hope to get thinner,
grocery is also untouched
as I’m always rushed.
So today, the plan is to clean
make sure the shelves can be seen
The plan is to do this regularly
So the fridge is kept meticulously
Juliette,
I have that same plan. You can see how well that’s going! LOL! Love your rhyme. You know you need to eat three meals a day to lose weight.
Im glad you tried rhyming today, too, Juliette. It’s definitely not my go-to, but once in a while it calls to me. I hope your plan works out! Maybe I should check in with you next month- LOL.
Juliette, your plan is a great one! Your last line about your wish for a meticulously clean fridge sounds like an amazing dream to me! It sits along with laundry all clean AND put away and house free of dust, cobwebs AND clutter. As the song says, to dream, the impossible dream at least in my world!
Juliette,
This made me laaaaaugh!
“When the daily meal is only dinner,
in the hope to get thinner,”
and
“The plan is to do this regularly
So the fridge is kept meticulously”
(Trying to rhyme “regularly” with “meticulously” was inspired — somehow it worked great as a near rhyme, I think it was the beat.)
I loved the words that your lines ended on — and your rhymes were so good! You took advantage of sound without losing any of the sense — this was great!
Mo!
LOL! Love your poem. Love the rhyme. Like you, I have those good intentions. Eating leftovers is super hard for me, so if Ken doesn’t eat them, they get wasted.
This morning I took the photo in my Canva and planned to write about it. That was before seeing this brilliant prompt!
Past ‘Best if Used by’ Date
I see Pumpkin
heaped in a clear plastic
disposable container
resting & waving on the
top shelf, as though to
say, “pick me,” but
I resist Pumpkin pleas.
Now the orange pulp
has grown a white beard
etched in black fuzz.
Every woman knows left-
overs have limited longevity
like rotting pumpkin-hued politicians.
Glenda Funk
Glenda, I’m
laughing so hard. Your humor is the best! A pumpkin!!
Serendipity at its finest! I love the Pumpkin pleas and your political ploy today. On a personal note, my husband calls me a billy goat because I will eat any leftover for breakfast- brats, tacos, guacamole (which was today’s breakfast) rather than waste it!
Oh! I am so glad to not have to witness the beard growing on my pumpkin this year. Sad to say, I do see the rot growing on our politicians. Thanks for your fun comments.
Glenda, your use of the word pumpkin is absolutely magical in this poem taking your reader from a shelf in the fridge to a desk in DC. Great imagery
Ha that took a turn that was humorous. I am wondering when to toss my porch pumpkin …. Nice connection to events and the prompt. Thanks for sharing.
Glenda, I love the turn in your poem. Brilliant diction to connect your opening to your closing. I should have guessed this was coming, but I was surprised. The imagery of the orange pulp growing a white beard was vivid. Sometimes those images are hard to erase. Clever poem!!
Glenda —
That last stanza, haha!!
Even without it, though, I appreciated that personification in the first stanza — who hasn’t resisted the healthy foods screaming “pick me” only to watch them slowly rot on the fridge shelf?
Hahahaaaa!!! Brilliant, hilarious, and true!!
Perfect graphic to accompany your words.
Glenda, haha! You’ve described a despicable combination growing atop that pumpkin – so much that I ewww’d; though, the bigger eww was still to come. Thanks for the laughter today!
Love the resisting of pumpkin pleas. I like the resting and waving, and the contrast with it growing hairy from the molds, etc. Even better sense of justice with the role of women knowing the rotting nature of the pumpkin at the end, as so many of the voices have said all along.
Glenda, perfect metaphor for our orange menace. I love the pumpkin seeming to say “pick me” from the top shelf. So, so funny! Great timing for the prompt, eh?
Thanks for the prompt, Mo. I am still stuck in haiku…
Bittersweet goodbyes,
I throw away old uses…
gathered in my gray.
Rex, your haiku strikes the perfect chord. Really appreciate your last line.
Rex,
This is wonderful. Love the ambiguity in “gathered in my gray.”
Gathered in my gray is such a beautiful line, Rex. You’ve captured so much in this haiku!
Rex, your last line is both haunting in its reference to aging and yet welcoming in its use of the word gathered. Lovely
Wow, that really hit me it’s simple and honest yet somehow says so much in so few words.
Rex, I love this little haiku on life and aging. Like others have said, the word “gathered” is striking. It’s hard to imagine, but through the “bittersweet goodbyes” and the throwaways of time, there is a gathering of wholeness.
What great, inventive use of rhyme, Mo! This is a timely inspiration as retirement has brought me through lots of cleaning, culling, decluttering . . .
Declutter
I’m in our
seldom seen
basement room
overflowing with
graduation gowns,
discarded furniture,
excess Pergo boards,
Nanny’s Bavarian china
totes of old school work,
can’t-part-with art projects,
no-longer-fitting kids clothes,
still-boxed-up wedding presents,
I-may-just-need-them college papers,
reminds-us-of-baby days crib bedding,
out-of-sight gifts that were never given,
held-onto Atari, Nintendo, and Wii systems,
long-forgotten, lovedstuffed animals and toys,
has-been bags of t-shirts from clubs and sports,
why-get-rid-of vinyls, 8 tracks, cassettes, and CDs,
hidden-from-Santa wrapping paper, bows, and boxes.
it’s an odd time capsule
of sights and smells . . .
thirty years of
accumulation
and life and
love and
memories.
i’ve been
tasked
with the
goal of
culling
so the
kids
have
less
to do
once
we’re
gone
. . .
donate
keep
toss.
i choose
to keep
but
organize
and label.
they may be minimalists
and not very nostalgic,
but what I would have done
to have such treasures
from my childhood.
so
i
keep.
~Susan Ahlbrand
15 November 2025
Susan,
If that pile on were not contained to one room, I would have thought you’re a hoarder! You need the Swedish Death Purge. I’m trying to get rid of tons of stuff, but the garage is an oversized problem. It’s Ken’s fault! Anyway, wonderful poem. Maybe your kids will come around to wanting to reminisce and share stories in a few years.
Susan, are you in my house right now?!? I feel like I’m dealing with the exact same things you are! I love your list of long-ago-important-things. I love your creative use of form to show us how you are whittling down your treasures. Good luck. It does feel good to let so many things go, doesn’t it?
Yes, Susan, I am smiling as I look at that pile of stuff growing ever so confidently in your basement. I too would have loved a few trinkets of my childhood, but it’s clear my children will be very happy with one small box of treasures – as space with precious for them. I am also trying to digitalize the photos that are worth saving. Now that is a DAUNTING task for winter nights….I hope….but I’ll keep you posted!
the form is powerful here. Ending with “so I keep” is a succinct and final end to the dilemma of the piles. Thanks for sharing.
Mo ,this prompt and your wonderful poem really spurred my thinking this morning. Trust me, I could/did write about my own refrigerator and also about my oven and my pantry which are all victims of long standing neglect! Yet, your prompt got me also thinking about the cleaning of and getting rid of so many “things” that we do not really need. Last year, just before the California fires, I visited my cousins whose magnificent home hosted lots of antiques salvaged from our grandparents. Everything was lost in the fires. This poem is for them and for me as a reminder that it is the memories, not the things, that matter.
At their magnificent home, high on a hill,
The old Victrola
Sat ready to host one of the old records that
Sat in my grandparents garage long before,
We didn’t play them.
The even older baby buggy sat,
A reminder of when we were little, it
Sat sadly for months in Grandma’s attic until we
Sat baby dolls, stuffed animals in it.
We didn’t play with them.
The old books, magazines, notecards,
Hand made and special, not ever to be seen again
Sat in boxes and bins
Sat on shelves waiting, not sure what for as
We didn’t look at them.
While near their enormous garden,
Hosted lovingly grown fruits and flowers, we
Sat savoring the company, the memories we
Sat, savoring each other, not the things
We savored the moment, not the things.
Which were all gone in a flash of light, rolling
Down that hill last November,
But not the memories.
Anita, I love the emphasis of your poem. Yes, it is the memories and the people who matter. My mother-in-law also lost family treasures in a fire. It is devastating but the real value is savoring the moments in life with the ones we love. Powerful poem!
Anita, this is a lovely tribute to your grandparents. I’m so sorry your cousins lost everything, but I’m thinking your poem might bring them some solace. As I get older I keep looking around my house at the things that are important to me and I wonder what my kids think of those things.
Anita,
I remember reading something about things embodying memories, and that’s why their destruction is so difficult. Yet, remembering that memories are more important than things is a vital part of recovery. I love the repetition of “sat.” It’s a stark reminder of stasis as a contrast to moving. Haunting poem that has me thinking.
What a sad tribute to those that lost so much in our California fires. Well said!
The ending is so abrupt and impactful. Love the final line so much. What pain. Thanks for sharing.
Anita, I am taken with the bolded word, Sat, throughout the poem. It works as a reminder that so many of our possessions do just that – place themselves passively in our lives. When it came to the garden, where the living home grown fruits and flowers settled, the sitting involved the living as well – what beautiful placement.
Oh, Anita, what a treasure this poem is. So much truth. The physical treasures just sat in your cousins’ home. Then that sweet sitting in their beautiful yard where you were “savoring each other” and “savored the moment, not the things.” Thank you for sharing the heartbreaking loss, but also the reminder of what’s truly important.
And I wanted to say thank you for the beautiful and insightful comments you make on our poems. Your readings and interpretations always give me insights on my own poems as wll as on the poems of others.
I love the emphasis of the word sat in each of the lines. Great content in your poem!!
Mo, thanks so much for your delightful poem and prompt today. Your whimsical tone is lovely. I’d like to commit germicide with individuals in my home state which is now ranked second place for cancer cases. No one seems willing to provide an answer for how we can clean our lakes and streams. It’s also amazing how an individual will not respond when asked a direct question in an email or face-to-face encounter.
Dirty Bitch
Ashley’s fundraising in Georgia,
a swanky private island affair.
Later in Florida,
cheapest ticket $5,000.00.
Who is she working for, we wonder.
Lobbyists or
party bosses?
She’s deaf to our queries.
Last night another Iowan
faces a cancer crisis,
another denied health care,
or a safe place to lay her head,
ejected at 88 from her cheap apartment
in Ottumwa.
We’re still waiting for answers
but Ashley will not reply−she’s
just another coward looking out
for her own self-interests, a
cushy life of corruption
while Iowans fight to breathe.
Barb Edler
15 November 2025
Barb, your take on “cleaning” is deeply reflective of the “dirty mess” that has seeped into the deepest crevices of our society and lives. It is hard to face a “thankful” season where the rich seem to just get more and more of their short term greedy goals and the rest of us goes without. SO many are trying to find a way to even stay ahead of the rent, food and health care that seems to have become the option for only the wealthiest among us. I am sorry to learn of the cancer cluster is Iowa which I did not know of before. In my family, it seems to be cancer for every family, everywhere this holiday season. Prayers.
Barb, I am reminded by your poem of how poetry is an outlet for so many feelings. The line breaks and question marks punctuate the disgust so clearly. And your concise word choice speaks volumes and volumes of negligence. Brilliant and infuriating.
I love the force in this, Barb. Sad that so many names could be substituted for Ashley and still ring true.
Wow, Barb. I can really feel the raw emotion in this poem. The contrasts between the expensive fundraising dinners and the cheap apartment in Ottumwa are so clear. This is such a sad story to hear, but I’m glad the Iowans have you as such a fierce advocate.
Barb, I am right there with you, cheering in spirit. Environmental concerns and their impacts on health bring such worry and concern. I hear your cry for answers. So needed.
Barb,
Every day I am horrified by yet more stories of evil. What is happening in Iowa and across the nation is heartbreaking. I do t know how we recover. Poetry is perfect for this moment. As always, your voice is clear and honest. There’s a deep sadness in the tone. “cushy life of corruption” is a brilliant understatement.
Mic drop poem, Barb!! I appreciate the raw truth and hope one day to see the dirt and the dirty blown straight to hell!
💥
Barb, I am cheering on your cleaning “house” today! We have a close family member dealing with an aggressive cancer, and so many others who are also suffering similar fates. It’s environmental. And the corporations responsible for this are culpable in the same way tobacco companies knowingly were. I hope you get answers soon.
Oh, wow, Barb, had to look up Ashley. She sounds a lot like Jay, a “coward”, “self-interests”, and the great phrase “a cushy life of corruption”. Here’s to a blue wave in Iowa next year.
A Clean Break
It is a forgotten pleasure, the pleasure
of following the laughter of children
to discover them kicking a ball on their balcony,
the white truck, the goal post.
To think, perhaps, what if, what if
I hadn’t remembered to listen, what if I hadn’t looked.
How did I know to scour that mind fissure, the cavern
so deeply clogged, clean space for their voices to resonate.
So many voices that I forgot to hear, to think I have
only honored this internal monologue for so long.
If you sit by an open window, you hear a speaking
that might help you remember a pleasure.
A neighbor playing her music for the ungrateful courtyard.
A kitten sipping rainwater from a plastic yogurt cup.
A boy looking up from his goalpost to see you watching him.
Sarah, so beautifully in the moment (moments). I love that the boy realizes you are watching him. The location of the goalpost as he “catches” you makes it all the more lovely. I am so enjoying your journeys (and sitting by the windows) as you post from various locations. This poem today allows us another glimpse into your world.
Sarah, I appreciate the specific details in your poem and how the power of listening to children playing can add such pleasure to one’s life. The perspective at the end is striking. I feel as though I am on that balcony listening to the kitten and music while watching the boy kicking the ball. Lovely poem.
Sarah, your description of the simple but magical pleasures that are playing along as you take in the sights and sounds of your current spot takes me back to Taormina where children are kicking their soccer balls even among the throngs of summer tourists! Your last line, as he looks up and catches you watching him brings me right into your moment of time. Lovely.
Sarah, all those forgotten, unseen, and unheard moments can be so important. I love how you draw our attention to them and encourage us to be aware of them without being preachy or heavy handed. I’m guessing you have been spending some time recently enjoying those moments.
Sarah, I can see in your videos lately these experiences of heightened sensory awareness never as keen as when we travel and experience a new place. I love the simple life happening here. And you, listening and sharing.
Sarah,
This is lovely. The language is dreamy and ethereal. The play of children punctures the pure evil all around. It’s such a lovely reminder we can find hope. I can see you observing and listening to play in myriad languages as you travel. It’s kind of universal.
Oh, so beautiful is this reminder to be intentional about listening. At school, I sometimes stand in the middle of the busy playground to watch how much fun little children have. Next time I stop, I will close my eyes and just listen.
Hugs!
Sarah, your poem reminds me that we write poetry to notice our world. Children outside playing – remembering to listen is as much for you as them. I’m glad you have the space for this in your life at this moment.
This stanza – If you sit by an open window, you hear a speaking
that might help you remember a pleasure.
speaks to your reader reminding us to take time to notice where ever we are.
Thank you for providing a pause for us today.
Glad to be back reading and writing!! This group gave me confidence to attend a poetry event at a local art shop and submit a poem in their contest this week! Thanks for helping me grow in new ways.
cleaning day
If you were actually
soap scum
in my guest bath tub,
I’d scour you down the drain
‘til no traces remain.
If you were actually
spilt sauce
on my white tablecloth,
I’d drown you in salts
and bleach me of faults.
If you were actually
slimy spinach
in my clean crisper drawer,
I’d toss you in the can
and go buy some more.
But since you actually
stain
my memories instead,
I’ll keep dusting around
your place in my head.
C.O. love the turn at the end in your poem. I considered writing about those people in my life I’d like to dust out of my head today. Love the light tone of your first three stanzas and the way you deal with these issues. Powerful poem.
Great news about the poetry submission. And I am loving this one, the way you took up the prompt in a figurative way with the direct address that is at once specific to you and to all of us. We each have that stain, that dust.
C.O., I love the way you took me into the scum of you bathroom (we all have it) and promise it will disappear and yet, allow your memories, all of them, to fill the places in your head! Yours is a great take on the memories versus things theme that seemed to take over my thoughts as well
CO, I’m so happy to hear you find this group so inspiring. Honestly, it’s hard not to! Your poem really draws our attention to that last stanza and makes us think about those things and people who are dusting around in our heads. Well done.
Love the repetition of “if” and the image of dusting. I wish we could clean up our memory messes and others as easily as we clean our homes.
I love how you address the specific cleaning needs in your home from bathroom to tablecloth to fridge. Your closing stanza touches deeper than the superficial cleaning needs. Maybe it’s those stains that help us discover our soul.
Perfection! The stubbornness of that stain in memories that won’t go away following the other disgusting remnants shows just how much people can impact us. Dust away! Eventually, there’ll be less and less remaining.
I missed Friday again! Oh well. perfect prompt, Mo, and you could come over and clean out my fridge any time! I’m sure is would feel familiar to you!
Clean Up Time
“Clean up, clean up!
Everybody clean up!”
The song is still sung
in elementary classrooms.
What will be the version
for the classroom formerly known
as the United States of America?
How will that go?
What has already been tossed out in the trash?
And once gone, can we get it back?
It seems that some are over-eager
to get rid of some things
that the rest of us value.
What version of us
will we be able to piece back together
with the bits that have not been burned up?
Will there be enough scraps of decency left
to create a place we want to call home?
“Clean up, clean up!
Everybody clean up!”
But be careful.
GJSands
11/15/25
Gayle, it is only Saturday, Sunday, Monday. You are right on time. I love this question of “what version of us” resonates so deeply with me. Your poem is, indeed, a call for reflection. Profound.
This resonates. I was reading a “classical education” piece this morning and connected to this concept. Thanks for bridging cleani ng and teaching
Gayle, boy can I relate to your poem. Iowa is spending over 35 million on vouchers this year while giving public education two percent funding. I am deeply moved by the lines:
“It seems that some are over-eager
to get rid of some things
that the rest of us value.”
Your provocative question has me anxious, too!
Gayle, your poem is at the heart of my worries as well. We have tossed out our relationships with allies and friends everywhere. (I frankly am hesitant to travel overseas!) We have tossed out food stamps while stamping an office with gilt. I too am worried about the “version of us” that is left.
You’ve hit the nail on the head with this one, Gayle. This question of where we will go from here keeps me up at night. I hope and pray we will get back so many of the things we have tossed out recently.
Gail,
Remember when Bryan gave us the Burning Down the House prompt? An arsonist is at work burn g down our house, and we won’t be around to restore it completely. It’s “ashes to ashes, we all fall down” at work.
Gayle, It’s time for some specific “house” cleaning to be done! Love everything from your title to the choice of childhood song (since we learnt the basics from the get go – at least most of us did). I worry about getting it back as well. Especially since we seem to be left with the trash in the tossing.
Hee hee: this gave me a chuckle, Mo. I could relate, and I loved the sentiments on the guilt that accompanies throwing away all of that well-intentioned food! Also loved the playful couplets. 🥰
Mo,
Thanks for hosting and prompting.
Love your playful rhyme. Your last line made me laugh.
___________________________________
More of an Everyday Thing
The prompt: write about clean out your fridge day
one that would have made my mom laugh
she did not wait for that day
to express her deep love
of deepest cleaning
ironing away
mess into
order
joy
This is a lovely reflection of your mom with the love language in services and that “deep love” with the “deepest cleaning.” As children, we have to look for that interpretation or may not be able see it, but later we do see that acts are a language that might just be a little safer for some. This is my reading into it.
Sharon, I love your title, and the poetry format works well to build on the joy your mom created. Joy is a perfect closing word.
Yes Sharon, my mom also cleaned and organized her fridge every single day of her life. There was never a science experience there, unlike my own fridge where science and wonder are keys to suvival!
What a terrific tribute to your mom, Sharon. She sounds like my mother-in-law, definitely not like my mom, LOL. I love the lines “ironing mess into joy.” If only it were that easy!
Sharon, your Nonet works so beautifully here – I can’t help feeling the lines diminish as a symbol of the mess disappearing in all the cleaning. Moms are able to turn mess into order and joy. I also like the ending word – it is a joy to feel the space cleaned.
Sharon,
I love the decluttering visual of your poem today. Perfect!
Reading this reminds me of a line from your mom’s obit that she kept an immaculate home. More a reflection of who she was than of the time in which she lived. More than a snapshot of her, a snapshot of your memory of her.
Mo, thank you for hosting us today! I love your poem – – the rhymes and the sparkle and shine of the word choices! I’m shaking my head once again, as I do from time to time when there is a nod from Heaven – – all those years I urged Dad to hire someone to help him clean, and today I’m taking my own advice since I don’t bend and scrub with ease like I used to. This has to be Dad’s way of saying he approves…..I can see him up there chuckling right now….who’d have thought I’d be writing a poem about cleaning on a day like today, when I’m finally taking my own advice??
Taking My Own Advice
I’m taking my own advice,
Dad, doing what I thought you
should have done years ago
you’d be proud of me today
phoning a friend to help
where my abilities now
fall short ~ bending, vacuuming,
scrubbing, shining, polishing ~
I look to the Heavens
offer a gratitude smile
as always, you taught me well
one way or another
this cleaning hits the targets
that need it most ~ for me and
my friend, Dianelys
she’ll be here in two hours
with her mop bucket and rags
so now the mad dash to clean
before the real cleaner comes
Kim,
The last stanza made me laugh. Sometimes personal growth only takes us so far, huh?
Love that you are writing to your dad and expressing gratitude. Also love that you’re asking for help even if you couldn’t quite take the leap of leaving everything for your friend to clean.
I also like how the italicizing of
telegraphs that it was your Dad’s phrase.
Kim,
First, I am checking in to make sure you are okay while at the same time acknowledging that asking for support is a sign of okay-ness. Hugs to you.
I love this conversation with your Dad and welcome your poems that remember. This twis at the end is perfect and so apt; of course, we clean before the cleaner. Of course. There is another poem here in what it means to let other people into our sacred spaces.
Kim, you’ve had so much cleaning on your plate since your dad’s passing. I like how you are able to find gratitude and share that emotion in your poem. Lovely!
Kim, your poem is both deeply reflective and yet profoundly funny! My daughter, a busy professional with a young family, claims she does not have enough time to prepare for a house cleaner! i keep trying to help her see the light, but the additional stress is just not worth it to her!
Kim, it’s often hard to take our own advice, isn’t it? I’m glad you are able to ask for and get the help when you need it. I bet it will feel wonderful. I especially loved your last stanza- so relatable!
Kim,
Im w/ you on this cleaning journey. Next round starts in January. 2026 is gonna be big time purge time. Glad you have some help. I’m sure the shnoodjes will give moral support, too.
Kim, haha! I wondered when you’d get to the cleaning before the cleaning starts part. I was just talking with a friend about how cleaning isn’t difficult or exerting or too taxing – it’s just not fun. And if we’re going to get help in, cleaning over any other task is the one to order up! So glad you are getting help. It’s a treat!
It is interesting how some tasks take on new life after a loss, even though there is nothing new about them.
JK Throw-Awat
Dear Lord,
Codemn this hand held device,
I love it, I hate it,
such a vice!
No talk, No chatter,
Nothing that’s everything
Matters!
Best worst tool for the kids,
loving to miss out on the things
We did.
At night scrolling for dirt,
Scrolling in the morning,
Scrolling at work.
Take it away, give it back,
blank stares,
With panic attacks.
Such a devilish fish,
Scoping, creeping,
An artificial wish.
but,
I can’t control the constant consume,
Thanksgiving meals served on phones in the room.
And at your house and mine too,
Text when you arrive,
Snap when you’re through.
Clean the addiction of likes,
Return our loving psyches.
Throw it away is what I pray,
as I type on my phone,
To rhyme what I say 🤔.
Boxer
Love love love the message and flow here. Specifically Thanksgiving food served to the phone first. I hate pictures of the Thanksgiving spread. Take a picture of the people and then actually talk to them in front of you! A nice take on cleaning up our “digital and social” lives. Thanks for sharing
The biggest clutterer of all! I’m pretty sure people weren’t meant to have the whole world in their hands. Those likes certainly are an addiction. I’m drawn to the lines, “blank stares with panic attacks.” I’ve seen this so often when tech is removed from kids.
Boxer, I just got back from an AI conference in Denver, and every layer of new learning about the AI has me more concerned about the guard rails that need to be in place as we move into the future with this….tool, or whatever it is. It’s too good to be good for us, like the richest desserts. Your poem tells it – – we are swept into the vortex of this charm, and it has us under its spell.
Boxer,
Your poem is all too relatable.
Especially loved these lines:
Going to hold on to them as I continue the quest to clean up my own phone use/disuse.
Boxer. The word paradox is coming up a lot on our year of travel overseas. Two things can be true. Yes, and your poem balances the irony and truth here with devices in its affordances “text when you arrive” for safety and “Thanksgiving meals served on phones” in its absurdity. Wise and funny.
Sarah
Clayton, I live the lines, “Best worst tool for the kids” and “Such a devilish fish.” Your poem holds a great deal of truth, especially in the last two lines!
Boxer, your poem/thoughts are reminders to be wary of what we wish for an careful of what we have. Our devices have taken on a life of their own. I am TOTALLY embarrassed at the time I spend each day scrolling……
Oh, Mo! I love a good cleaning too (though the fridge is often neglected in my weekly chores!). Thank you for this interesting prompt. My original intent (lighthearted and fun-inspired by you) veered far astray.
Rearranging
Call it a crisis
or simply a reorganization,
but somewhere between
Zero and Fifty,
I pressed the brake.
What’s that to do with a fridge,
you ask?
The previous owner
had positioned his in the walkway
between the dining room
and the back entry,
technically in the kitchen,
yes,
but its placement
required a zig
and a zag
on what should be
a straightforward path.
It blocked sight-lines.
It prevented movement
between A and B
(adding in C, D, E, and F).
It cluttered
and cramped.
It was the elephant in the room
(albeit a baby one)
and had to go.
Enter the new
morning blue glass-fronted
bespoke,
French 4-door,
counter depth,
beverage center,
dual ice maker,
flex zone
beauty.
How’s that connect to crisis,
you ask?
When everything else
was falling apart,
burning up in flames,
going to pieces,
breaking down,
on the fritz,
deteriorating,
disintegrating,
or otherwise crumbling,
this newly acquired perfection
(spotted after hours of
traipsing from one store
to the next
after considering dented discounts
and discarding smudging stainless –
been there and won’t do again),
this artfully designed masterpiece
became the first piece
to help me pull it
all back together.
That ending tied it all in so nicely. Thanks for sharing this piece about a fridge and not about a fridge. 🙂
Ah, Jennifer – – I can see it shining there so beautifully, this piece that helped you pull it all back together…..yes, yes! They say the kitchen is the heart of the home, but the heart of the kitchen…..is the fridge. I love this.
Jennifer, I love how the refrigerator works as a metaphor for life. Your action verbs share not only movement but emotions throughout this poem. Guess what I’m reading right now? Okay, I will tell you, The Lightkeeper’s Daughter! It’s great!
OMGosh! Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate that.
Wow, Jennifer! As a reader, u didn’t expect this poem, either. It got so real so fast. Your writing style put me in mind of Billy Collins’. I love the way both of you can take something mundane and turn it into something so powerful.
Jennifer,
I think you know I have that same bespoke fridge in all white. And it doesn’t show prints! Yesterday I told a lady in Costco about all the things I love about the fridge. I totally understand how one new appliance can become the organizing principle for a home. This is a fun poetic epiphany!
Jennifer, you had my mind wondering what you were talking about until you got to the ice maker part! I hope to someday soon part company with my smudge filled stainless that is so poorly made it rusts!
Jennifer—The story, and then that beautiful close…
Hi Mo
I went in another direction, writing a rambling poem about writing a rambling poem, and then surfacing another poem inside of the mess of the poem with a Blackout Poem tool as part of my “cleaning up.”
(It still feels pretty messy).
Kevin
Original poem, with bold showing found poem:
A few too many words,
wouldn’t you say,
sit inside the bins
of this rather long,
ramble-on mess
of words and lines
and bent rhymes
and something’s
bound to be wrong
when you just keep on
writing, fighting the urge
to edit away,
to parse away,
to cut away what needs
to be cut, but you can’t even
trust your gut anymore,
because you know how it is
when you’re writing
your way out of a rut;
everything tumbles loose
like an avalanche, and
only later, when you force
yourself to sift through,
to rescue, if only by chance,
the thing you need the most;
the verse that sits
inside the mess
of the poem
That’s a fun take on this; I envisioned a whiteboard and erasing words to edit and clean up the text (a reverse blackout poem in my brain), very cool! Thanks for sharing this weekend.
Oooooh, good one! I’m peeking at pomes for an idea this morning. I am going to copy…I mean model my poem on this 🙂
Love the organization in the disorganization – isn’t that what a fridge does? Contain all the food clutter in one space, the multiple uses of various items loosely organized. I also like the challenge of finding a poem within your own lines – something I think my 7th graders would find intriguing.
This is what I love about poetry – – its creative energy, the randomness, the throwing out of all rules, the seem of a mess when it’s a masterpiece – – it’s fun, and the artist captures it just as it was meant to be. As you have done here!
Kevin,
Love getting to see both versions.
Fantastic ending:
I have a tendency to rattle on when I write and find reaching for a form like a nonet helps me to cut away to the meaning.
I’m going to try your blackout cleanout sometime soon.
Have you seen Austin Kleon’s blackout poems?
Thanks for sharing and inspiring.
Kevin, I marvel at your meta poetry ability so early in the morning! I love blackout poetry so much. You’ve really managed to whittle down and clean up this one!
I love the idea of a poem-within-a-poem, Kevin! Thanks for crafting and sharing these!