First Words

Verselove is a community celebration of poetry in April—an invitation to write, read, and reflect together. You’re welcome to write a poem a day or to come and go as you need. Reading and leaving a brief note—a line you loved, an image that stayed, a feeling a poem stirred—is also a meaningful way to participate. This is a generous, low-pressure space. We’re glad you’re here.

Our Host: Denise Krebs

Denise Krebs lives in Yucca Valley, California, near Joshua Tree National Park. She is busy learning to write habeas corpus petitions and briefs to help immigrant neighbors, campaigning for a new congress person, and stocking the shelves of the best Friends of the Library bookshop in our area. Denise is a retired elementary and TESOL teacher. Her most hopeful and joyful experiences are being with her two grandsons. Being here in April is another experience of hope and joy. She blogs at Dare to Care.

Inspiration

Last year during Verselove, I shared a borrowed rhymes prompt, where we used the last words of another poet. This year, we will incorporate the first words of another poet into our own poems. 

When I wrote this prompt, I had been inspired by one of the featured poets at Poetry Foundation– Angela Jackson, a Chicago poet, playwright, and novelist. If you haven’t met Ms. Jackson through her poems, I encourage you to spend some time with her today. Try some of my favorites: Q&A, Epiphany, and Angel. More of Jackson’s poems here.

Process

Choose a poem and write the first word of each line in a column down the side of your page. You can use the first words of a whole poem or just a stanza. You can use one of Jackson’s or choose another poem or stanza from someone else you are reading. Write a free verse poem letting the other poet’s words carry you. You might find that being held to one simple constraint, like having the first word in each line determined, can release more freedom in your poetry. Give it a try.

Denise’s Poem

With first words from “Caregiving” by Angela Jackson

The Day After We Bombed Iran

Before the moon came out
I looked up, lost in thought,
not joyful thinking (the kind
twice as big as my woes).
I was deep in mournful-thinking–
Winding up B-52 bombers.
Jump roping girls in Iran, now dead.
Hauling ass through Juffair, as bombs
stomped the feeling of safety
for people across oceans.
Then the moon appeared
and it was almost full of
rumble in the heavens. A
ride into torture and
then tumbling
down into despair.

And yet,
there are the helpers–
sitting in the mess, serving,
like freedom arriving to
head off the storm.
Wistful and triumphant.

I will not give up hope.

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.