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: Angie Braaten

Angie has been teaching English since 2013. She started her teaching career in Louisiana for five years, then moved overseas and taught in Bangladesh and Kuwait. She currently teaches in Mauritius. Her overseas experiences have opened her mind in ways that may have never happened if she had stayed in the states. She has taught grades 6-11 but her favorite would probably be 8th, a grade that will always hold a special place in her heart, being the year she realized she wanted to be an English teacher herself. She is grateful for this community of writers and to have monthly opportunities to write, read, and share poetry. It has influenced who she is as a teacher, and person in general, in many ways.

Inspiration

I know a lot of us here are fans of the Golden Shovel, but have you ever heard of the golden hinge?

In her article ‘On Not Writing, and Letting Wildness Be Your Guide’, Leila Chatti discusses her history with depression and the different ways she wrote poetry during a specific time in her life, one of them being the golden hinge. She says, “Forms born from wildness, like dreams, create a space that is both totally free and totally limited. The disorder was so great that I required greater and greater order. When the brace of the Golden Shovel left too much flexibility for my comfort, I added another, creating the golden hinge: a form in which a borrowed line can be read horizontally as the first line of the poem as well as vertically down the left spine, as the first words of each line.”

Read the whole article here: https://lithub.com/on-not-writing-and-letting-wildness-be-your-guide/

Process

1. Decide what you want to write your poem about.
2. Find a line from a text that you want to base your golden hinge on.
3. Create your poem!



Angie’s Poem

no one dies or is dead in this poem
one day we find out someone
dies because of war or suicide
or just life. he is gone, she
is gone. they all seem to be
dead. outside of this, yes, but
in between the lines of
this life-giving text, this
poem transcends their death.

*no one dies or is dead in this poem taken from “The Rules” by Leila Chatti

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.

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Heather Morris

I am a little mixed up with dates because I am traveling, but like Erica, I enjoyed this so much that I came back to post. I am traveling in London with my daughter and our friends. It was perfect to sum up our first day. My line is from Edna St. Vincent Millay’s “Travel.”

My heart is warm with the friends I make.
Heart songs float on London’s air; it
Is our first day – mothers, friends, daughters.
Warm love, warm hearts filled
With a wanderlust for life’s travels through
The past, present, and future endeavors.
Friends that traverse the ups and downs, not as
I, but as we because friends
Make life’s journey so much more satisfying.

Erica Johnson

I loved the hinge! I had to come back to share mine, taken from the poem “From Blossoms” by Li Young-Lee which was popular with my students for our poetry brackets.

There are days we live as if death were nowhere
are we really so wrong for doing that?
days and the horizon stretch on
we stretch out our hands, light dancing along
live each day somewhere on the spectrum
as though it were our last — hardly
if we push on, dance on, breathe on
death waits like a parent on wooden bench
were we to wait on them to call us?
nowhere to go but home.

Dave Wooley

Erica, I’m glad that I came back this morning to see what I missed! I love the line that you’ve chosen–that idea of keeping death in abeyance is compelling, living carefree and enjoying endless moments. The metaphor of death as a parent waiting patiently on the bench os comforting and discomforting at the same time! The call home at the end is really making me think too!

Angie Braaten

I also love when two or more people happen to use lines from the same poem or book. Two people used Theo of Golden and Jonathon below also used a line from “From Blossoms”. I had never read the poem and love it so much. I love the everything is connected nature of it. I’m glad to hear students are receptive to the poem. I’ll have to introduce it to them.

I love your opening question and the phrase “if we push on, dance on, breathe on” and the comparison of death to a waiting parent and of course “nowhere to go but home”. It makes me feel comfortable with the idea of death and I don’t think anything has ever done that. Thanks for sharing, Erica.

Heather Morris

I find myself pondering each and every line, but I love the question posed in the first two and the “light dancing along.” I am glad we both came back to this day.

Denise Krebs

Angie, I had yet to hear of the golden hinge. Thank you for expanding my understanding and repertoire. Your poem is powerful. I love “between the lines of this life-giving text” No death there. Beautiful.

Hope inspires the good to reveal itself.
Inspires a flower to grow wings and fly.
The sinister cult of fear and cruelty are as
good as gone when hope arrives
to say, “That is enough.” You then
reveal the hope, the wonder, the way
itself in forming a new legacy of Love.

———————————————

“Hope inspires the good to reveal itself,” is a line attributed often to Emily Dickinson, but I have yet to figure out where she said it.

Anna J. Small Roseboro

Denise, your poem is encouraging and gives me hope. Of course the beauty in the writing is the metaphor of spring. No matter how cold, cloudy, rainy and grey April is, seeing the flowers gives us hope. Thanks.

barbedler

Denise, I love the image of a lower growing wings. Your beautiful end shines with the power of hope.

Leilya Pitre

Denise, you brought in your poem what so many of us are carving daily–hope that inspires, lets wings grow and Love spread. I like the capitalization of Love as personified.

Erica Johnson

I love the way hope is woven through this poem! A reminder of it’s power.

Dave Wooley

Denise, I love the message of hope conquering fear, standing in the face of fear and saying “that is enough.” Your poem reveals the strength of hope and the tenacity and determination that it takes to remain hopeful and to build legacies of love.

Angie Braaten

Oof, that third line in the midst of so much goodness in the rest of the lines is a stark contrast, supporting the fact that it doesn’t belong, shouldn’t belong and all the others should prevail. I love “Inspires a flower to grow wings and fly.” What a beautiful line! Thanks for sharing Denise.

Heather Morris

I love the picture your second line created. I now have flowers flying in my head. There is much hope in this poem, and it is perfect for this time of year and at this time in the world.

Dave Wooley

Angie, this form is fascinating! I called my youngest son in tonight to choose the line of poetry. I handed him the latest volume of the Furious Flower Anthology and told him, “you have 5 minutes, find me a line.” He chose a line from Fred Joyner’s poem “We Are The Builders”.

Building a better world

We build to leave the world different than how we enter,
build legacies upon ashes of atrocities
to bend the arc of our existence towards justice and
leave this world somehow better than where we started. 
The inertia of history works against us, there is a 
world of privileged, empowered people claiming we are 
different and, somehow, to be feared, rather
than embraced for the truth tellers that we are. 
How are we to overcome these insurmountable odds?
We are called to be accountable and present, 
enter wherever we are and take as many steps forward as we can. 

Denise Krebs

Dave, wow, “ashes of atrocities” is amazing. Beautiful poem that shows the importance of people verbing “to bend” that arc toward justice. I read this with the joy of knowing your son had picked that line, and that he probably read your poem, and that, my friend, is the beginning of leaving the world different than how we entered it. What a great gift to your son.

Anna J. Small Roseboro

Ditto, Denise. David, the double challenge! You, students find a line in five minutes. Share the line with your partner. You, students, write a golden shovel using the line shared with you! Gotta read; gotta write. Gotta think. Now that’s just right!
Thanks.

Leilya Pitre

Dave, your son chose a wonderful line that carries so much weight. Did you tell he he is amazing? The line “build legacies upon ashes of atrocities,” as the others noticed, is so powerful. It outlines the grim reality of the current state from which an act of re/building begins. The final line leads us to conclusion that we do what can, but we act without a doubt bringing us back to hope and intention to “leave this world somehow better than we are started.”

Tracei Willis

Maybe I’m just teary this morning, but your poem made me cry, and also made me want build and be accountable and present for my grandson, because all of the children belong to all of us, and they deserve the best this world has to offer. Your poem is a call to action.

angie braaten

Wow Dave. totally dig that you asked your son for the line and impressed by what he chose. I agree with everything Denise said. And Anna, that activity sounds amazing. Will have to try! Thanks for the inspiration, Dave!

Allison Laura Berryhill

From “One Art” by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Art demands losing hubris, fear, and judgment.
Of course, everything is metaphor–
Losing is the expansive space.

Isn’t loss the
Hard-est job of life?
To welcome loss, to
Master the art of letting go?

Dave Wooley

Allison, those last 2 lines are amazing. I love how you reframe losing and loss as skills that one acquires in life.

Allison, your second line really jumped out at me as such a great way to look at losing these things. To lose hubris, fear, and judgment may be hard, but art demands it. I’m just hanging onto these lines tonight.

barbedler

Allison, you’ve captured the essence of loss in such a compelling way. To welcome loss is particularly provocative. “Losing is the expansive space” oh my, what a metaphor! Truth! Let go of the hubris, fear and judgement. I’m in total awe!

Erica Johnson

One Art is such a fantastic poem and I love how this feels like a genuine response to it.

angie braaten

Yes, I guess loss might be the “hard-est job of life”. This gets me thinking about all that can possibly be lost, like the few things your poem includes. Thank you for framing Bishop’s poem in a new way, Allison!

Heather Morris

Wow! Your second stanza hit close to my heart. Yes, to both questions.

Tracei Willis

Verselove Day 18: Golden Hinge

Borrowed Line: “Love is or it ain’t. Thin love ain’t love at all.” Beloved, Toni Morrison

Thin love ain’t love at all.
Love is thick. Long-suffering. Always on time.
Ain’t no compromises in it. Either you in it or you ain’t.
Love Is or it Ain’t.
At the end of the day, Love stays put.
All us ain’t built the same; some of us ain’t got Love in us.

Tracei Willis
April 18, 2026

Stacey Joy

Ohhhhh, how I love this! The truth comes boldly to the page! You also weaved in both sentences in a way that makes perfect sense. You need to share this beyond our space here. 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

Ain’t no compromises in it. Either you in it or you ain’t.

Tracei Willis

Thank you, your response made me smile. It’s been a long smileless day.

Dave Wooley

This is fire! “Love is or it ain’t” is a perfect line. “Love stays put” is a mic drop line too!

Denise Krebs

Wow, I love the opposite of “thin love” in this: “Love is thick. Long-suffering. Always on time.” Beautiful!

angie braaten

I agree with Stacey that this needs to be shared beyond this space. If I ever teach Beloved in the future, I will use this poem as a mentor text and have my students try their own, with your permission. And yes, the inclusion of another Morrison line in the fourth line worked brilliantly. Your own lines are perfect. Thank you for sharing.

Tracei Willis

Yes, of course, thank you for reading! And for future sharing!

Heather Morris

Love this poem! So much truth.

Julie Hoffman (she/her)

Be yourself. Be who you are.

Be. Just breathe. Be here now. Ask
Yourself, “Who am I wired up to
Be?” “Who do I admire and
Who can mentor me toward goals, maybe
You?” Breathe again. Just as you
Are becoming, you already are. Right now.

“Be yourself. Be who you are.”
― from Fish In A Tree (p. 184) by Lynda Mullaly Hunt 

Diane Anderson

A great poem to accompany that book. A mentor poem to get readers to think about their own responses to the book.

Tracei Willis

I loved that book. I adore your line “Just as you/Are becoming, you already are.” Perfect affirmation poem.

Stacey Joy

Julie,
This is a poem for everyone!!! Affirming, kind, and loving!

Angie Braaten

Just like Tracei, I also love the idea of both “becoming” and already being. I like the repetition of breathe and that it slant rhymes with “be”. Thank you for sharing!

Heather Morris

I love that book and this line. I feel like I need to read this poem every single say. I need to follow these lines.

Jonathon Medeiros

To carry within us an orchard, to eat,
carry the worry, digest the minutes of our days 
within the bags of our bodies, lucky 
us. We stand in groups,
an arrangement of stilted limbs, an
orchard that walks.
To be these bodies, we
eat these bodies in our beds, at kitchen tables.

Angie Braaten

Jonathon, I read the Lee poem where you got the line. You’ve incorporated the words into your own so well. I’m lingering on this image: “We stand in groups, / an arrangement of stilted limbs, an / orchard that walks.” So much to imagine there. Also, the provocative sound of “we / eat these bodies in our beds”. Thank you for sharing the line and your poem.

Cayetana

Every good and perfect gift is from above
Good things come to those who actively wait
And in the meantime, we work in
Perfect unison with the One who gave us the
Gift of His own Son, who
Is patient calling us to Him
From wherever we are
Above the chaos into peace 

Stacey Joy

Cayetana, what a beautiful way to share scriptures! Praying for us to have deliverance from all the chaos soon. 💜

Diane Anderson

A beautiful expression of the meaning of Scripture- how God gave His Son for us and how He patiently calls us, Thank you.

Angie Braaten

Although I’m not a religious person I am still drawn to all of the religious poems today. The lines you have written work so well with the words in your inspirational line. I especially love the last three lines. And the idea of moving away from chaos and towards peace. Thank you.

Wendy Everard

Angie, I absolutely loved your poem.

Sharon Roy

Angie,

This was quite a challenge. Thanks for introducing us to a new form.

Thank you for your beautiful poem, showing us how writing and reading can provide respite in grief.

this

poem transcends their death.

——————————————————————————

morningside

memories of which I was part but were not part of me
of birds at dawn
which flashed yellow
I often failed to witness as I
was moving without looking
part ahead
but often behind my thoughts
were ricocheting
not sensing
part periphery
of oblivion
me after all

—————————————————————————

My poem paired with a photo from this morning and a few words about my process is at my blog, Pedaling Poet.

Wendy Everard

Sharon, this was lovely and thought-provoking. You had me at the first line.

Leilya A Pitre

Sharon, such a tenderness in your poem from the first line till the end. I, too, regret for “failing to witness.” Our way of life is so intense, and everything seems accessible until it’s not. Holding you in my thoughts.

Sharon Roy

Thank you, Leilya. I appreciate all your support this week.

Angie Braaten

Hi Sharon, this line is so intriguing. So glad you chose it. My husband thinks I’m not perceptive enough. Because sometimes I notice things one day and tell him and he’s like that’s always been there. So I understand. “Thoughts…ricocheting” and “oblivion”, yes I get it. Thanks for writing.

Wendy Everard

In a small elementary school,
wildness abounded – today
is our town’s Earth Day Celebration;  
The Environmental Club kids urged
preservation of the world and joy
of life abounded. (Is it untoward of
the advisor to crow about how
world-rocking these kids are?)

IMG_8137

Oh, I love this word world-rocking. This is incredible.

Lori Sheroan

Wendy,
I really enjoyed your poem and kudos to those kids (and their advisor!!

Ann E. Burg

This is great Wendy ~ and what I’ve always missed ~ the world-rocking kids! Love it!

Sharon Roy

Wendy,

It’s always good to brag on our students.

Strong work, Environmental Club kids and their sponsor!

Leilya A Pitre

Wendy, it’s so good to see kids voicing their concerns, especially on such a crucial matter. The advisor should absolutely show off these “world-rocking” kids.

Stacey Joy

Yes! Let’s allow the children to rock the world! It needs some rocking!

Beautiful!🌎

Scott M

Wendy, this is great! (And you deserve to “crow” as loud and as long as you can, lol!)

Darshna

Wonderful celebration & poetry abounds! How cool that you are getting the next generation involved.

angie braaten

The line you chose is so fitting for the poem you wrote. I agree with Scott, crow away, definitely!! Love kids who are so caring and involved. Thank you for sharing this with us.

Angie Braaten

Hi Everyone, loving all the poems so far. I did not realize that I would get so many recommendations of books, poems, and authors when I created this prompt but of course and some are sending me down a rabbit hole. TBR list is increasing. Commenting on all the poems is taking a bit longer and life with a newborn is no joke! If I have not commented on yours today, check back again later or tomorrow. Thank you for accepting my challenge! 🙂

Tracei Willis

Hey Angie,
I really love the Golden Hinge, thank you for the introduction. I can’t wait to share it with my students.

Anna J. Small Roseboro

Angie, today at an author event at our local university, I had the opportunity to show and sign a family picture book based on a poem I wrote here in Ethical ELA, called CINDY AND SANDY LEARN ABOUT ELEPHANTS. The triggering action occurs when the girls note that their books are different and they think the other’s is wrong. The “golden hinge” line is “No! No! No1 Yours in wrong!” (Get to the book to see how conflict is resolved, 🙂 )

Here’s my poem inspired by your prompt, and the experience today sharing this book:

Right or Wrong? Show Me Why!


“No! No! No! Yours is wrong!”
Seeing inconsistency in text or in life
Makes one think that something is wrong,
Like someone changing the words to a song.

Teaching on topics that students know
Invites us to ask them, “What does this show?”
Being able to express themselves as right
Sometimes helps avoid an in-class fight.
Right or wrong depends on the setting
Soon, they may even be betting!

But it also makes them think!
And before morale in the classroom sinks
Go ahead and play them a song! Then they can fuss
About who got the words wrong!

Know when voices are heard
They won’t feel like a herd
They may be second or third,
But no longer thinking
“No! No! No! Yours is wrong!”

Right-or-Wrong

Anna, congratulations! Love the rhyme scheme in this poem and the bouncy, fun feel of it.

Scott M

Anna, congratulations on the signing! And thank you for the reminder that “when voices are heard / They won’t feel like a herd”!

angie braaten

Anna, that’s so cool about writing, showing and signing your picture book! I love that you created a poem about your experience and took a line from your own book! Awesome. Inconsistency in life being compared to “someone changing the words to a song” is such a good line. Thank you for writing today.

Luke Bensing

“From the deep water I cry out to you, O Lord.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭130‬:‭1‬ ‭

FROM the wilderness of my own making to
THE end of the road. Backed up against the immovable
DEEP under the waves of the hurricane
WATER entering my lungs
I was teetering along the knife’s edge, threatening to be sliced in half
CRY after cry. Heard no reply. Because I didn’t want the rescue
OUT from the past. Unsure of the future. From certain death
TO sweet life
YOU heard me. Somehow. Once I meant it.
O sweetest name. Undeserved mercy. Love.
LORD

Lori Sheroan

Luke, this is powerful! I love the Psalm you chose.

Wendy Everard

Luke, this was sublime.

Stacey Joy

Luke, you’ve given so much love to a sweet Psalm! Lord knows we need our cries heard. 🙏🏽

Darshna

Luke,
I appreciate the nod to gratitude and guiding light that aids in uncertainty. Majestic and reassuring in its tone. Thank you.

angie braaten

I’m not a religious person, but this moves me. The idea of not wanting to live anymore, not even wanting to be rescued but being able to get past that with faith, with the Lord, is powerful. It’s of course not a new idea but you have written something so unique and so your own. Thank you for sharing.

Glenda M. Funk

Angie,
I love this prompt, love you for teaching me a new form, love your poem, too. I am in Hanoi and visited a little coffee shop where the wall and tables are covered w/ Post-It notes and our server asked to take pics w/ us, so she is my inspiration,

Living Mary’s Way 
[golden hinge] 

Keep some room in your heart for the
Unimaginable. Believe in 
some sense of Earth’s vastness where   
room for possibility and wonder  
       cohabitate
in spite of all evidence evil will prevail. 
       Let
your search for goodness in every 
heart, among all people—even those 
for whom war is the default response—
      be your compass.
The community of people depend on the
unimaginable possibility of hope & you!

Hinge Line: “Keep some room in your heart for the Unimaginable.” — Mary Oliver, Evidence: Poems 

Glenda Funk
April 18, 2026

IMG_5954
Barb Edler

Glenda, oof, I love the message in your poem today, and especially the Canva. Moments like these help lift one’s spirit. I think the “evidence” is clear that evil will prevail but the search for goodness is what keeps us hoping for a better day, a better world, a better future. Using the good as a compass says it all! Truly beautiful message and poem. One I needed today! Thank you! Safe travels!

Glenda,

I’m immediately held by “Keep some room in your heart for the Unimaginable,” a line that opens like a doorway and keeps widening as the poem moves. The way you carry that hinge into “room for possibility and wonder / cohabitate” feels so expansive, especially alongside the clear-eyed acknowledgment that “evil will prevail.” That tension gives the poem its depth, allowing hope to feel chosen, not assumed.

I’m especially moved by “be your compass.” (And I am moved by your on my poem today, too- hugs). Such a steadying image you offer us here, guiding the reader back toward intention and care even in a complicated world. Oh so complicated. And then “the unimaginable possibility of hope & you!” brings everything into relationship, where hope is not abstract but lived through people, through connection. We have to nurture that hope; it doesn’t come without effort for sure.

A quiet strength lives here, grounded in belief that does not ignore difficulty, but insists on making space for wonder anyway.

Peace,
Sarah

Lori Sheroan

Glenda, the line you chose is golden and the story of your inspiration made me smile. That Canva pic is priceless.  “Believe in some sense of Earth’s vastness where room for possibility and wonder cohabitate” – love this!

Wendy Everard

Glenda, loved this Canva and loved your server — so glad that you immortalized her in this beautiful poem!

anita ferreri

Glenda, your first “hinge” line is one that inspires dreaming and hopes in spite of those 
for whom war is the default response—wow! Your Canva is fabulous as well!

Darshna

Glenda,
This poem is a gift! It’s glorious and generous in its approach layered in beauty.

Leilya Pitre

Glenda, this is beautiful. Love Mary Oliver’s line you chose. It is hopeful, and you turned it into even more promising. It feels like you’re saying that even in a world that leans toward conflict and feels dark, there are people like Mary, who can turn things back toward kindness. The poem holds so much to show us that some incidental strangers can remind us of our own capacity for hope. Mary looks so young and full of joy in the picture!

Kim Johnson

Glenda, a favorite Oliverian line for me – the very hope we all need today. You wove a lovely Glenda original using the knitting needles of Matt and the yarn you brought and I could not love this one bit more than I do!!! It’s a message we need to keep tucked handy.

Diane Anderson

A search for goodness in every heart…our compass. That would surely make a difference in how we treat others. I love the photo and the glimpse into Hanoi.

Anna J. Small Roseboro

Glenda, my favorite line is the last, that invites me to be part of the solution, not the problem! Thanks.

angie braaten

Wow, I love how your experience at this Vietnamese coffee shop and Mary inspired this poem, Glenda. So much positivity and so much to love. All of it actually. “Let / your search for goodness…be your compass.” Truly inspiring. Thank you.

P.S. I hope you had some egg coffee – that was my FAVORITE!

Sheila Benson

I have a scant 15 minutes until I need to do the next thing, so this poem will be short. Here goes . . .

Where did my Saturday go?
did it vanish while I ran on the bike trail, enjoying the spring ephemerals?
my soul was lifted by seeing all the bluebells.
Saturday is the day my “gotta dos” struggle with my “wanna plays.”
go outside as often as possible, says my heart.

The image of “seeing all the bluebells” carries such lightness, like a moment that quietly fills the spirit without asking anything in return. That lift shows up so gently in “my soul was lifted,” where the day begins to feel well spent, even as it slips by.

Cayetana

I have often wondered where my Saturdays go as well! Thank you that part of your Saturday was spent inspiring us.

Sharon Roy

Sheila,

Your heart gives good advice!

go outside as often as possible, says my heart.

Wendy Everard

Sheila, I hear this poem — especially the ending. Love the serious of rhetorical questions laments, and love those bluebells.

Leilya A Pitre

Sheila, you hit the cord with “Saturday is the day my “gotta dos” struggle with my “wanna plays.” I spent most of the day working at the computer. I am glad you had a chance to see the bluebells. Your heart is so right ))

Scott M

Sheila, I love the line, “Saturday is the day my ‘gotta dos’ struggle with my ‘wanna plays.'” Same! Thank you for stopping in a sharing this with us!

angie braaten

Like Leilya and Scott, I love that you added “wanna plays” as the opposite of “gotta dos”. It’s so nice when we are able to do more of the play. I wish I could ride my bike more, definitely. Thank you for sparing 15 minutes to share this with us!

Last edited 21 days ago by angie braaten
Lori Sheroan

Thanks for this challenge, Angie! I used a line by Michael Rosen, from a short, untitled poem that appears in his introduction to the children’s poetry anthology he edited. Published in 1992, the anthology is a collection of poems about home by several children’s authors. Proceeds from the book went to help the unhoused. The title of the anthology is Home.

Home Again

This is the home that knows you by heart.
Is this house the reason you love stories and art?
The home of your childhood, home of your song,
home of your memory, your home for so long
that it seems you could knock on that door and who
knows? Your 6-year-old self could welcome you!
You as a grown up meeting you as a child…
By gosh, what a feeling…so strange and so wild.
Heart, we’ve come home!” Then the yellow house smiled.

Sheila Benson

This is lovely! I love your enjambed lines, and I love how “home” keeps repeating across lines.

Lori,

I’m smiling at “Your 6-year-old self could welcome you!,” such a magical and tender image of time folding in on itself.

The repetition of “home” builds a feeling of belonging that deepens with each line, especially in “the home that knows you by heart.” A sense of being recognized, fully and gently, lives in that phrasing.

Peace,
Sarah

Cayetana

Thank you. I have often thought about knocking on the door of a former house or apartment that I’ve lived in. Your poem was a welcome wondering.

Sharon Roy

Lori,

Thank you for this tender imagining.

“Heart, we’ve come home!” Then the yellow house smiled.

barbedler

Lori, your poem is full of wonder and joy! The image of greeting your 6 year old self is fantastic and I love that the yellow house smiles at the end. Home and heart really stand out in this one. Brilliant!

Leilya A Pitre

Lori, you lifted and hinged a gorgeous line and then took us alongside your musings, which are so warm. Love personification of the house and the final line!

Darshna

Lori,
So much heart & happy in this poem. I especially like the last line — I can literally picture the yellow house smiling. A delightful and nostalgic poem that’s clearly filled with memories and circles of love.

Kim Johnson

Lori,
such a tender poem with meaning that flows like a whimsical and fun Seuss so layered in meaning. I am so impressed with your rhyme and your reach!! Right into the heart!

Diane Anderson

The yellow house smiled… such a sweet image. That sense of home is what we wanted for the foster children who lived with us, both in sharing our home and in supporting healing in their own home.

angie braaten

Hi Lori, thanks for letting us know about details of Home, another I’ll have to look into. I love the line. Omgg the idea of the child version of you welcoming you to your home. I feel like this could be a whole novel or movie. So cute. And that last line of dialogue and personification. I love everything about this. Thank you so much for sharing!!

Leilya Pitre

Thank you, Angie! I love when you bring up new forms and little challenges. I like how you took Chatti’s words and came up to this profound thought:
“but
in between the lines of
this life-giving text, this
poem transcends their death.”

I, too, borrowed a line from The Rules by Leila Chatti for my Golden Hinge with some idyllic message, but a girl can dream, right?

Last Night

I’d like to tell you how I walked last night,
like I finally had time to notice things instead of rushing past,
to see the garden lights blinking as if trying to get my attention,
tell me why I started smiling at a porch frog and a crooked mailbox,
you popped into my mind next, then our cat who decided to follow me,
how he paused at every corner as if considering his options,
I didn’t bother with questions, just let my feet set the pace,
walked past houses where people talked and laughed at dinner tables,
last bits of worry slipping off somewhere behind me without a fight,
night, offering a simple kindness I didn’t have to repay.

Last edited 21 days ago by Leilya Pitre
Glenda M. Funk

Leilya,
I like the aspirational ethos in your poem. The frontline makes me smile. You can’t go wrong w/ Chiatti. Never give up the dream.

brcrandall

I’m here for crooked mailboxes and porch frogs…love how not only you, but this poems sets a pace…an evening stroll and I’m simply wishing I was alongside you to enjoy it all.

Sheila Benson

I felt like I was strolling right alongside you! I loved the porch and crooked mailbox, too.

Leilya,

The small details feel so alive, especially “a porch frog and a crooked mailbox,” moments that might be missed on any other night but here become part of a kind of quiet companionship. Even “our cat who decided to follow me” adds to that feeling of being accompanied without needing explanation. What lingers most for me is “last bits of worry slipping off somewhere behind me without a fight.” Such a soft release, unforced and almost unnoticed. And then “night, offering a simple kindness” feels like a gift, a moment of ease that asks nothing in return, just presence, just being.

Peace,
Sarah

Lori Sheroan

You captured the magic and peace of an evening walk. I loved: “last bits of worry slipping off somewhere behind me without a fight.” Don’t we all rejoice when those bits of worry slip away? I will think of this on my next evening walk.

Sharon Roy

Leilya,

Even a walk in our imaginations does us good.

I didn’t bother with questions, just let my feet set the pace,

walked past houses where people talked and laughed at dinner tables,

last bits of worry slipping off somewhere behind me without a fight,

night, offering a simple kindness I didn’t have to repay.

I feel the restoration.

barbedler

Leilya, what a beautiful poem. I love the movement and its cinematic quality that zooms in on precise details such as the frog and mailbox. I also really love the cat and how your close focuses on simple kindness. Truly stunning!

anita ferreri

I am drawn into your walk in part because of the “golden hinge” but also because of the way take me as you finally had time to notice the lights, porch frog and the crooked mailbox. Your poem ends with almost a “hug” of simple kindness that I suspect I needed more than I knew tonight.

Darshna

Leilya,
This poem exudes whimsical and romantic qualities. There’s a cadence and assertion that feels emblematic of the opening line. Gorgeous!

angie braaten

Leilya, “The Rules” is one of my favorite poems, obvs. Maybe next year I will actually incorporate something that doesn’t have to do with Chatti but I love her. So I love that you used a line from it also. I love your idyllic message and yes, dream away!! I can picture you or myself or anyone “smiling at a porch frog and a crooked mailbox” and I love it. It’s the small things, always. I also love your end with the rhyme and personification “without a fight, / night, offering a simple kindness I didn’t have to repay”. I’m so glad you wrote this!

Maureen Young Ingram

“The earth laughs in flowers” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

the earth laughs in flowers
earthy bold indelicate guffaws
laughs rocking us awake  
incanting hope and possibility 
flowers of resilience

—- —- 
Thank you, Angie – this hinge prompt is new to me and I think it really is “both totally free and totally limited”… the biggest challenge was honing in on a quote.
In your poem, the line “dead. outside of this, yes, but” is particularly powerful to me…that period followed by lowercase words a reminder of how ordinary death is, woven into all life.

Leilya A Pitre

Maureen, what a beautiful quote from Emerson. Love your definition of laughter as “earthly bold indelicate guffaws.”

Sheila Benson

On this gorgeous spring day when trees are finally flowering, I love this so much.

Maureen,

I’m really taken by “earthy bold indelicate guffaws,” such a vivid way to give laughter weight and sound, almost shaking the quiet out of the page. The movement in “laughs rocking us awake” feels like more than joy, almost a call, something that stirs and insists on being noticed. A sense of renewal pulses through “incanting hope and possibility,” where the language leans into something both natural and a little magical.

Peace,
Sarah

Lori Sheroan

The line you chose makes me so happy, and the way you expertly wove it into something new and beautiful amazed me. Thanks for sharing this!

anita ferreri

Maureen, I really “feel
Emerson smile as you expand and enhance his image with “bold indelicate guffaws” and “flowers of resilience.” I will look at the blooms with open eyes tomorrow/

Darshna

So many rhythmic lines and sounds that embody hope and resilience. There’s a playful quality too! Thank you.

angie braaten

I love Emerson but I don’t think I have heard of this line and I love it. I love the playful nature of the poem with laughing and guffawing. The positivity and overcoming also. Thank you for writing, Maureen!

Kratijah

Thank you for sharing the golden hinge Angie. I chose a line from Spencer’s Amoretti poem LXXV: One Day I Wrote her Name-Our love shall live, and later life renew.”

Our mornings begin in quiet joy,
love grows steady in all we share,
shall we keep choosing each other daily,
live, fully present in every moment,
and find delight in the smallest things,
later we’ll look back and smile,
life fuller because we walked it together,
renew this again and again, with you is my earnest wish.

Maureen Young Ingram

This is tender and full of love. The line “shall we keep choosing each other daily” seems to me both a question and a plea, and it sent me thinking how we just never know, do we? Love is filled with hope for more, I think.

Leilya A Pitre

Kratijah, this line resonates with me the most, “life fuller because we walked it together.” Your poem is full of love and appreciation.

Oh, the question “shall we keep choosing each other daily” feels especially tender, turning love into an ongoing act rather than a single moment. A sense of intention runs through the lines, where presence and attention shape the relationship over time.

Sarah

Lori Sheroan

Kratijah, this is a celebration of companionship! I really loved the lines “later we’ll look back and smile/life fuller because we walked it together.”

anita ferreri

Kratijah, as I read this, I felt as if it were marriage or commitment promises of how I would want to build a future with someone. “fuller because we walked it together

angie braaten

Awww I hope you shared this with your husband, Kratijah. I’m a sucker for love poems these days. I love “life fuller because we walked it together” and the idea of “renew”ing love over and over in your last line, the importance of keeping it fresh always.

Susan Ahlbrand

Thank you, Angie, for showing us the golden hinge. It offers a great challenge! My problem was trying to find the perfect line to use, so I just decided to go random . . . I chose a poet randomly (Emily Dickinson) and I scrolled and landed my finger on the screen for a random poem. It ends up fitting with my headspace today as life has me scratching my head today.,

We–who have the Souls–Die oftener–Not so vitally–
who repeatedly suffer fatal blows from the Careless, who
have Hearts for service and 
the desire to make Life better for others, who have
Souls for selflessness, who would rather 
Die than take from the Vulnerable and Innocent.
Oftener we suffer anguish rather than cause it.  Some know we are
Not here merely for Self but for the Greater Good.
So, we live amidst all types and Die daily when other Hearts
vitally punish the soft and loving Souls of the Just.

~Susan Ahlbrand
18 April 2026

Mo Daley

There is so much passion and indignation in your poem today, Susan, and I’m here for it. I also really appreciate your use of capitalization. I really like your last line.

Maureen Young Ingram

I am mesmerized by the capitalization of unexpected words within each line – how this reminds me of Emily Dickinson and simultaneously adds this righteous alarm, I think. That closing, “when other Hearts vitally punish…” – wow, yes, these are “Hearts” and although we commonly relate Heart with Love, this is not love at all. Wow. I’m glad you went “random” today – marvelous poem.

Leilya A Pitre

Susan, you have captured Dickinson’s writing style, adding your authentic voice and grit to deliver the message. “Oftener we suffer anguish rather than cause it” is plain truth. I like how “Hearts” landed to signal those of dominant ideology. Seems like an intentional twist.

Julie Hoffman (she/her)

Snaps! Those last 3 lines! Yes! Thank you for being one who is not here “for Self but for the Greater Good.”

Angie Braaten

Susan, I’m so sorry I missed your poem earlier. Figured it probably happened a few times given the amount of times I commented, stopped, then began again. Hopefully you see this.

Random line turned out to be a powerful one. I like the other words you chose to capitalize, in pure Dickinson style. What you have written is just as powerful as her original line and so true. “We…die daily when other Hearts / vitally punish the soft and loving Souls of the Just” boom. Wow. Thank you for sharing.

Stacey Joy

Angieeeee, who knew there was a Golden Hinge form???? I am in love with this! Thank you for teaching me something new and for allowing me to write a poem about exactly what your poem is about:

this

poem transcends their death.

With the recent killing of Cerina Fairfax, I devoted my poem to her and her beloved son and daughter.

A Golden Hinge Poem In Memory of Cerina Fairfax

She is the planner, the scheduler, the caretaker, the cook, the disciplinarian, and the primary nurturer.
is there anything more horrific for her two children than
the loss of their mother in such a heinous way? She was the
planner for her son and daughter, and for her success in dentistry
the kind of human others admired and loved. She was a
scheduler to be sure she was present for all who needed her
the one who attended school events, but also a
caretaker for patients who sought her skills. Who will be
the healer of her children’s broken hearts? Who will
cook their favorite meals, help with college planning, and be
the guide when their paths go astray? Who will be the
disciplinarian to help them grow from mistakes they’ll make
and still tell them they are loved? How will their innocent lives recover from
the nightmare of their father being the monster who stole their
primary parent who shielded them from harm and was their sole
nurturer?

©Stacey L. Joy, 4/18/26

Stacey Joy

My image wouldn’t post.

Stacey Joy

Hopefully, the image shows this time.

Cerina
Mo Daley

What a tragedy this story is. You’ve used the Golden Hinge perfectly to write a tribute to Cerina Fairfax. The questions you ask are particularly poignant. Thank you!

Margaret G Simon

The trauma these children have suffered will change them forever. It can change DNA. So tragic.

Maureen Young Ingram

Such a beautiful tribute to this dear woman. What a tragedy, that he would take his own life, and such a cruel, sickening twist that he would take hers as well. I immediately thought of their kids, how to go on? I think about how such violence leads to trauma for generations to come…a thought you capture so beautifully with “and still tell them they are loved? How will their innocent lives recover ”

Oh, Stacey, the repetition of questions opens a space of ache, especially in “Who will be the healer of her children’s broken hearts?” Each one reaches toward something that cannot be replaced, and the longing is felt in every line. Oh, I feel it.

Sarah

Sharon Roy

Stacey,

Thank you for bearing witness and asking these heartbreaking questions.

Gayle j sands

Whew! Beautiful and so very sad.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Stacey, this form works so beautifully for this tribute. I imagine the hinged lines enfolding Cerina. I feel so much through your words (and for her children).

Julie Hoffman (she/her)

Oh, Stacey, what a beautifully painful and painfully beautiful poem. Thank you for putting to word that for which I still have no words.

anita ferreri

Stacey, this is a kind tribute in memory of a tragedy. This is the kind of a nightmare that makes me wonder how human mins can go so very wrong?

angie braaten

Stacey, being on the other side of the world, news like this doesn’t always make it to me and I also don’t look for it. I had no idea. Thank you for making me aware and writing such a necessary poem. It’s especially moving for me because recently, this same thing could have happened to my brother, his ex-wife, and their kids. He threatened part of it multiple times anyway. It’s so heartbreaking that not only this happened to their children but that they witnessed it. I will never understand how someone so seemingly successful turns into someone who murders and kills themself and leaves children behind. As others have said, the questions you ask are powerful, especially “Who will be / the healer of her children’s broken hearts?” No one better than a mother and I wonder if anyone will.

Darshna

Angie,
I love this introduction to the work of Leila Chatti and the idea of a golden hinge– appreciate your process points, illustration, and poetry! Your poem has me thinking about transcendentalism and so much more. .. I look forward to trying this out again with other texts and my students. 
For today, I have selected a line from Walt Whitman’s poem, “Leaves of Grass” and I want to take a moment to acknowledge this incredible community that’s been feeding my creativity and nourishing my soul. Thank you all for making me into poetry with your generosity and thoughtfulness.

On Being

I exist as I am, that is enough. 
emancipate myself — into wonder and curiosity 
xxxxxing out all that’s unnecessary 
inviting imagination, ideas, inventions with intention
stamina and grace become hope
tumult and tenderness  

an exaggerated surprise
swirls of grace, swirls of hope — all in a blade of grass

I exist as I am, that is enough.

Arbiters of this time, this moment, this exhaustion
Moments of community lubricates hope

tumult and tenderness
hope is reality not just a passing ideal
allowed to pause. allowed to take time.
thin slices of time need protection and conviction

I choose grace and
Stamina. for this moment. for the long haul.

Extend grace so it can take shape.
No matter how dire. Bring imagination forward. 
Oscillate between your foolishness and silliness 
Understanding that it may ripen your senses 
Go outside. Believe in the blade of a grass. Go outside. 
Hope swells. Hope swirls. Hope is a real leap of imagination. Emancipate.

Last edited 21 days ago by Darshna
Ann E. Burg

I love this Darshna— the whole acceptance of ourselves as we are here in this moment with swirls of grace, swirls of hope— all in a blade of grass. I am so moved by your reminder to believe in that blade of grass... Hope really is the real leap of imagination. Thank you for bringing me there!

Joel R Garza

Whitman sings through this call to imagination, this call to being in the world, this explicit call to silliness! Thank you for the passion, and for such a unique take on the golden hinge (a form brand new to me)!

Fran Haley

Darshna, you took the hinge to another whole level – I’m awed! As I reread your lines, my eyes keep returning to “I choose grace.” This is the mantra I want to live (and love) by. It is a day by day, moment by moment choice. It is not being an ostrich with head in sand…it is seeing clearly and choosing deliberately. Grace. Extend it..and yes, by all means get outside in nature, for it offers much in the way of calming the troubled soul. Love this.

Leilya Pitre

Darshna, you chose an amazing line from Whitman, which calls for some existential pondering and complicated the golden hinge with an acrostic. This deserves a special praise. This line attracted my attention right away: “xxxxxing out all that’s unnecessary”–extending “x” to balance the line length, but also emphasizing the rejection of all that’s not needed. A very cool way to do it! Love the transcendelist/romantic call to connect with nature at the end.

angie braaten

I’m so glad you are here, Darshna. Love seeing new people and it’s such a great community. I’m glad you enjoy it. I feel sorry for people who like poetry who do not know about this place.

There is so much to love about this poem. I like your own idea of including an acrostic. Such good words throughout: “stamina”, “oscillate”, “tumult”, “emancipate”. Wow. I like what you chose to repeat and your alliteration in some lines. Also, some lines are so important for young people, especially: “Go outside. Believe in the blade of a grass. Go outside.” YES! Thank you for writing!!

Cheri Mann

It’s an overcast, waiting on storms kind of day. My lifted line for my golden hinge poem comes from Brian Bilston’s “Prayer for Uninteresting Times.”

Send me a slow news day
me, waking casually to the day’s light
a hand-warming coffee in my favorite chair
slow to ease into the day, still in pajamas
news only of blue skies and birds that sing
day of books and bliss.

Darshna

Cheri,
This is perfect weekend poetry! Love it.

Leilya A Pitre

Cheri, you nailed it! This “hand-warming coffee in my favorite chair” is a must.
I am joining you in prayer. No on up there listens to it though, and that is a new poem already ))

Ann E. Burg

Cheri, this is great —perhaps you heard my yes yes! after every line…news only of blue skies and birds that sing/day of books and bliss.
Perfect!

Gayle j sands

Cheri—perfection. Quiet, calm, lovely.

Lori Sheroan

Oh how I need and love this exact kind of day. You chose a delicious line and then built a day to remember with your poem.

Gayle j sands

Please—a day of books and bliss…

Jonathon Medeiros

I love the line you have chose…a slow news day, coffee, and book…bliss

Julie Hoffman (she/her)

Cheri, yes! “News only of blue skies and birds that sing.” Let’s have a slow news day.

anita ferreri

Cheri, this is a wonderful slow news day depiction! Your poem makes me want to skip into the night and celebrate!

angie braaten

Bilston’s poems come up on my feed every so often. They are entertaining. Sometimes uninteresting is needed, more times than not actually. It seems like the more interesting something is these days (world news wise, it’s always on the negative side). I want to live this day. Books, coffee, no worries. These are the best kinds of days. Such a simple poem but I’ll be keeping this to look back on in the future. Thank you, Cheri.

brcrandall

I’m so thankful, Angie, as so much hinges on learning a new style…being invited to another opportunity for thought and language that has the potential to transcend death. I’m always her for ‘life-giving’ text. In a slight nod to Walt Whitman this April, I’m sticking with walking along the Sound in thought. I borrowed twice from his poem: As I Ebb’d with the Ocean of Life.

April Whitticisms
b.r.crandall

Whoever you are, we too lie in drifts at your feet…
you, Maude, & the Great Whatever teasing us. We  
are the gatherers of light amongst sea rocks.
we pack pens & notebooks, & the snack-boxes,
too, teasing clamshells & bay scallops while others
lie in eal-grass capturing Russian Beach warriors
in the clouds above (ghosts of whalers etched as first-
drafts from tap-dancing pencil tips along lined paper).
at our feet, a low tide. to our right, a Sea Wall Cove —
your artistry is gathered through this idea, the Sound of
feet questioning death-waves as the wind picks up.

As I ebb’d with the ocean of life
I found fluidity between you, them, us, we
ebb’d in togetherness, humanity, poetry written 
with coastal possibility of a Connecticut story.
the waves whispering wary death for the living. the
ocean, a scrapbook of who we once were…
of who we are right now…sandpipers bringing
life to another shore of American beach grass.

Darshna

Bryan,
So much beauty and poetics between your own experiences combined with Whitman, love it all! The imagery, the sensory details, the ebb and flow and all the in-between. The poem draws me into our communal bonds of

humanity and poetry — coastal possibility of a Conneticut story

is pure genius.

Kim Johnson

Fabulous! It’s like you created the Golden Hinge version of a haibun. A Haihinge. Leave it to you. It’s gorgeous, this walk along the shore and the sandpipers. The ocean being a scrapbook of who we once were is just deep and profound – your mind just spins language of wondrous motion.

Leilya Pitre

Oh, Bryan, this is so good. I have a soft spot for Whitman. Your poem feels like a walk where every step picks up a new thought, or a new ghost. I love how you move from the imagined warriors above the Sound to the sandpipers on the Connecticut shore. It’s like the mind following its own tide. And the way you end on beach grass and sandpipers brings everything back to the live–to hope. Keep packing “pens & notebooks, & the snack-boxes,” we need your words.

angie braaten

Bryan, thank you for your imagery filled poem. I love the movement of the poem, from “sea rocks” to “scallops” to “Russian Beach” to Connecticut”. There is so much to savour! I also really like the “whatever” and “whoever”. These words seem to include everyone and encompass anything. “Whitticisms” is also of course great!

Carrie Horn

Today I did not follow a prompt. I just went with the flow of my heartbeat. Yesterday I just skimmed the prompt and this might have fit in there better. But I didn’t get to write yesterday, life had other plans. Today I wrote about the cycles we find ourselves in and how they go around and around again. 

Life Travels in Circles
Did you ever notice… 
life travels in circles?
Circles of hope,
circles of grief
circles of cycles
That go round again
and again.
Did you ever notice… 
seasons always change
and when they come around again,
nothing is quite the same?
In another season,
I buried my emotions deep,
but as the Springtime evolves
I find my thoughts 
take root
shoot up,
find light, 
reaching for the sun.
My thoughts once buried
are exposed again.
They are new
and green.
New shoots of thoughts
taking hold deep down,
yet showing off new growth 
in sunlight’s splendor. 
Tender and delicate
they need tended, 
pruned, 
maintained. 
They grow stronger in the sun
that they ever did in the grey.
Thankful for the rain
that feeds these little shoots
and causes them to stand strong,
because summer’s on it’s way.
Now established and strong,
my thoughts will have to stand
in times of drought and sun.
Sometimes wilting, 
in the face
of summer’s heated sorrow. 
My life is like a garden,
renewing itself in Spring.
To face the heat, 
the dying off,
the burial of wintertime.
The cycle goes around again.
I wonder if you noticed…
how life travels in circles?
-Carrie Horn
4-18-26

Darshna

Carrie,
Your poem has me thinking about the cycles of life, gardening, and renewal. Love how you used so many wonderful metaphors to reenergize our senses and sensibility. It is a beautiful reminder about how we are connected and where we travel figuratively and literally. Gorgeous.

angie braaten

Carrie, I’m glad you chose to write whatever you wanted today (yesterday). I love life’s cyclical nature, yes! I understand completely. Things go and come back around eventually. Love the metaphor of thoughts and life to plants and seasons. And I like the bookend nature of your poem. Thank you for sharing.

Mo Daley

Thanks for introducing me to this fun form, Angie. I’m not sure if I did it justice this morning, but I will definitely try again. I used one of my favorite lines from the e.e.cummings poem [somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond]

Forgive Me, e.e.
By Mo Daley 4-18-26

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
you and I came to be when we were
open to new ideaspeopleexperiences,
always together like a
petal and sepal,
by that I mean two parts of a whole- a
petal needs a sepal (I didn’t yet know
myself, but I bloomed
as we bloomed) in
Spring Summer Fall Winter, a heart
opens
(touching another
skillfully,mysteriously) deliciously
her heart becomes his, his becomes hers
first love is a thornless
rose of happiness

Stefani B

Oh Mo, I feel like I am a poetic science world and then b[l]oom–your last line. Lovely! Thank you for sharing today.

Rachel S

Ah, I love me some E.E. Cummings, and I think you did a beautiful job with it! Your parentheses and spacing are a great nod to the source. I love: “always together like a / petal and sepal, / by that I mean two parts of a whole.”

Darshna

Mo,
This is a perfect ode to E.E. Cummings. I too love the metaphors and the exquisteness of the poetics. So many feels, Yay!

Gayle j sands

Mo— those last two lines. Wowza!

Angie Braaten

I’m sure e.e. would so approve of this poem!! Sheesh, I am such a sucker for a love poem these days. I was wondering how you would incorporate two “petals” so close together and you did it brilliantly. If I tried that, it probably would have sounded forced. I love “I bloomed / as we bloomed”. So sensuous and full of life 🌺

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Mo, your poem opens as beautifully as Spring. Cummings’s vibe flows throughout – you’ve picked the perfect words to blend together. They spill so easily as one, building upon your theme. Beautiful!

Gayle j sands

First love is a thornless rose of happiness…wow.

Susan O

Hi Angie! This was fun. I wrote two.

Frankly dear I don’t give a damn!

Frankly put is the best way to state it
dear ones don’t be afraid
I need to hear the truth
don’t hide the facts 
give me the news
a divorce?
damn it! I love you both!

Injustice anywhere is a threat to the justice everywhere

Injustice can be found 
anywhere these days
is it going to be so from now on?
a challenge to correct it, a
threat to the decency and fairness given
to the people of the world
justice must preside over 
everywhere and around

Stefani B

Susan, Your first poem resonates with a feeling I think many of us can relate to. Our relationships aren’t always dependent on how others relate with others–but it is hard. Thank you for sharing today.

Carrie Horn

I love these both. The first one (Frankly dear I don’t give a damn) is my favorite. It is gripping and filled with curiosity and impending doom both. I can’t help but read the next line, maybe a little faster than the last, to find out what it is, that the unknown contributor is spitting out news about. “Damn it! I love you both!” I can relate. Sometimes I feel like I know I’m “supposed” to pick a side, but I just love them both!

Darshna

Susan,
Two incredible poems with a boom factor! I really like how they work independentally and complement each other. Thank you.

Angie Braaten

Thank you for sharing two poems, Susan! I was not expecting divorce in the first poem but yes, the difficulty of picking sides when that happens is very real. And we often wish it didn’t happen. I like “a challenge to correct it” in your second. Yes, everyone needs to accept this challenge!

Barb Edler

Susan, I have always adored Rhett Butler’s response. I immediately visualize is charming face and Scarlet’s reaction, but your poem pulls me into a painful and personal scene that makes me pause. “don’t hide the facts/give me the news” is raw and honest. The feeling of having your world pulled out from under you is striking, and I love the shift to the current global crisis and the injustices that keep making me wonder what fresh hell is next. Brilliant poem!

Rachel S

From Mary Oliver’s poem, “Blueberries.”

Maybe it’s myself that I miss, 
it’s the version of me that walks by
myself on the trails in the mountains
that pass through meadows of wildflowers, which
I photograph and look at often so I can
miss them until I return. 

Susan O

I hear a longing to return to the trails. Yes, the beauty of the mountains is one of the best places to find yourself.

Stefani B

Rachel, thank you for writing this idea of “missing” elements of nature. This is a feeling that I currently connect to as spring blooms and I am reminded of various pieces of nature I’ve missed! Thank you for sharing today.

Darshna

Rachel,
I feel this so much on my walks lately. A perfect reminder to tend to the beauty in nature and reenergize ourselves. Thanks for sharing.

Angie Braaten

I love everything about this, Rachel. The line pulled from Oliver’s poem, the missing yourself but also parts of nature. I especially love taking pictures to “‘miss them until I return”. You have used the words in the line you chose so well!

Jonathon Medeiros

Wonderful opening line. Maybe we do miss ourselves. I like the image of the meadows, the wildflowers, the photograph

Ann E. Burg

I love this form Angie and am so excited to discover it! Your golden hinge actually seems to move like a real hinge, from promising no one dies to opening to the possibilities of those that do…and then transcending through poetry! My poem is based on a line from On a Lamppost Long Ago, by Ada Limon. I’ll be back later to savor and comment more.

There are too many things to hold in the palm of the brain,
are too many things slipping through it’s crisscrossed fibers,
too many radiant moments quietly disappearing. So
many other things should have been tossed to make room for
things more important, I should have tried harder
to keep more open space. Then, instead of ragged regrets, I could
hold more splendor: the dance of autumn leaves; stars twinkling
in in a dark wintery sky; the scent of lilacs below my window on
the corner of the Killean house;
the faith of the ocean and the feel of an aged
palm reaching for mine. I think
of all the beauty that life offers every day,
the ordinary encounters with grace that my tired 
brain let slip away… 

Darshna

Ann,
I love Ada Limon and totally appreciate what you’ve done within your poem! This idea of what we hold and what we forget and how to live… are questions I’ve been pondering too. So your poem finds me feeling so many oohs and a-ahas. The curation and cadence of the poem flows with beauty and contemplation. Thank you.

Rachel S

Oh, I think about this topic all the time. I think it‘s why I try to journal so much. I love: “I could / hold more splendor: the dance of autumn leaves; stars twinkling / in a dark wintery sky” – and the lilacs, I could keep going! Beautiful word choices.

Angie Braaten

Oh lord, Ann. I have read this about 4 times now. You have touched on a subject that worries me. I want to remember everything but cannot. I don’t write enough. I don’t remember enough. I tell my students they should because they will regret whatever they forget. So many lines I love in here especially the small details that readers don’t know about but are powerful nonetheless like “the corner of the Killean house”. Also, love Ada. Thank you for sharing. This is one I’ll come back to often.

Leilya Pitre

Ann, there is wisdom in each line here. Your poem is so relatable, and I am going to come back to your words many more times, especially to these:
I think
of all the beauty that life offers every day,
the ordinary encounters with grace that my tired 
brain let slip away…”

Diane Anderson

Radiant moments/ragged regrets… the contrast emphasizes the message. And makes it memorable for my tired brain.

Jamie Langley

Angie, thank you for introducing us to the Golden Hinge. I have been writing poems as close readings of novels and poems I’ve read. This is a perfect form for what I have been working on. I love your final line in your poem – poem transcends their death. To me it empowers the poem!
The Partition

The emptiness is full, the fullness is empty.
Emptiness following loss
Is sometimes more than words can express
Full of grief for those who represented
The memories
Fullness of a life new to those who lived through the earlier times
is difficult and hard to embrace
Empty of the richness of the lost memories during a new time.

The emptiness is full, the fullness is empty. These words appear in Kiran Desai’s novel, The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny. I noticed Desai using chiasmus (literary device) a number of times in the novel.

Darshna

Jamie,
Thanks for this philosophical poetry that is deep and profound. You’ve captured it so succintly and thoughtfulness. I am also putting Kiran Desai’s on my TBR list. Appreciate your sharing.

Angie Braaten

The juxtapositions work so well in this poem. “Fullness of a new life…is difficult and hard to embrace” because of the “emptiness” yes, for sure. I did not realize I would get so many good recommendations of books and poems when I created this prompt. I’m loving it. Thanks for sharing the title.

Last edited 21 days ago by Angie Braaten
Sharon Roy

Jamie,

Thank you for bringing me back to Sonia and Sunny and giving me a new way to think about grief.

Your poem is one to ponder, like Desai’s novel.

Linda M.

Good Morning, Verse Lovers!

I slept in this morning and attacked my laundry mountain…thinking I could write and launder at the same time. It just didn’t work out that way! So here I am hours later thoroughly WOWED by Angie’s golden hinge prompt. It took me some time to find a quote to use as my hinge. I spent a ridiculous time in various rabbit holes before slapping my forehead in a DUH! moment to grab my journal where I found this beaut:

“We don’t inherit the earth from our ancestors. We borrow it from our children.” Native American Saying. If anyone knows a better attribution I’d love it!

We Borrow from our Children

We don’t inherit this earth from our ancestors–
don’t depend on old lies about
Inheriting assets and accounts
The world of those things is already buried

Earth awaits the next generation
from our hopes and dreams and best plans
Our children bind up our wounds as we become their
Ancestors.

Darshna

Linda,
I am glad you waited and sorted the laundry .. and your journal. This is superb and transcends a message of hope with a reality check. Evocative. Thank you!

Carrie Horn

I have heard this saying before, but haven’t taken time to reflect on it. What a touching tribute to the earth wrapped in the words of a poem. Or more about humanity and the way we treat our earth and what that means for our children. But I love the way it circles around to us becoming the ancestors. I found your poem to be thought provoking and deep. I love it!

Mo Daley

Linda, this is terrific. I like your separation into stanzas. It works well here. Your last two lines are so thought provoking.

Angie Braaten

I love most N.A. beliefs. Had not heard this one yet. Will jot it down also. I love how the use of ancestors has changed by the last line, becoming the children’s ancestors. So good! Thank you for sharing, Linda.

Gayle j sands

The world of those things is already buried…as we become their ancestors…

Jonathon Medeiros

Oh yes, powerful opening line choice. We borrow from the future. My students and I often talk about the fact that yes we come from ancestors but we are also the ancestors of people who have not yet arrived…and what do we owe them?

Scott M

Water, water every where nor any drop to drink
Water sloshed out of the deep well
Every which way and every which 
Where, and though I’m not an ancient mariner
Nor did I shoot, maim, or otherwise kill
Any albatrosses, I’ve seemed to
Drop below sea level as my sump pump has chosen
To quit and flood my finished basement with the
Drink.

Angie, thank you for introducing me to this new form (and its backstory from Leila Chatti)!  I really appreciated the visual you provided for the layout of this poem, and I so enjoyed the metafictive nature of your mentor poem!  People will, and do, die elsewhere, but not here, not “between the lines of / this life-giving text.”  I love that!  For my offering, I pulled a line from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who, famously, also wrote that “poetry is the best words in the best order.”  Though my poem is neither of those two things, the subject matter of the poem is completely true, so, yeah, that’s not great.

Dave Wooley

Scott, I hope you get your basement sorted out! (Sounds like you could use a ghost crew to clean the deck!) Great line from one of my favorite poems and, for what it’s worth, I really enjoyed your tragi-comedic take!

Rachel S

Yikes, floods are no fun! But yes, I did enjoy your witty take on it. The albatrosses! And “every which way and every which / where.” Good luck with the clean up 🙏

Cheri Mann

Often the worst subject matter–the catastrophes of daily life–make the greatest poems. I love the rhythm of “Every which way and every which / Where” that mimics the sloshing of the water. Good luck in cleaning it all up!

Darshna

Scott,
I always marvel at your ability to pick out the most sordid details or connect with literature & life in the most interesting ways. You can truly make the ordinary into the most profound. This is a sign of a good writer and even a better poet.
I do hope the basement is dry and the water woes are at rest.

Gayle j sands

The subject matter may be unfortunate, but the Ancient Mariner turned it into a thing of beauty. Good luck!

Angie Braaten

Oh no, Scott. Sorry for the inspiration that made you write this but it is a good one indeed. I like the use of directions in the second line. Surprisingly enough, I was just in your position two days ago. Toilet clogged and flooded the whole living room of our apartment. It was a real mess, I sympathize with you!!

Joel R Garza

Angie, first of all, thank you so much for this challenge this grey rainy morning (in Dallas). I love how your enjambed lines work — they keep alive our reading, they allow us to anticipate. It’s the perfect form on the line level for your death-cheating inspiration : )

My Golden Hinge line comes from this scene late in First Reformed. I needed more than seven lines, though, so I ran the sentence backwards to wrap up. So grateful, again, for the challenge. As always, I post what I write here. Today’s offering:

Reformed

I have found another form of prayer. I 
have not (G-d forgive me) been looking, but
found it nonetheless. Not a podcast or
another book, resources these days in-
forming detoxed masculinity.
Often you’ll see men, earbuds in, heads bowed,
prayerfully alert. I too was once one
of these men, seeking productivity,
forming a plan to wealth, less belly fat,
another goal, another stone in the
foundation of the monument to me. 
Heaven, Matthew says, is where treasures lay. 
I’m trying to believe. I really am. 

first-reformed
Last edited 22 days ago by Joel R Garza
kim johnson

Joel, I sense the redefining of wealth here, and your poem could be an introduction to a whole new collection of what we consider wealth, success, even Heaven. I seek the peace of quieter days, the reflection of deeper meanings, the quiet of more remote settings. The belly fat is another story, but I truly tapped in to your words, your yearning that is palpable in this poem.

anita ferreri

Joel, your use of the double golden hinge is a great format to share these thoughts about recognizing what might be most important in this life. Like you, I am trying to believe.

Kasey D.

Joel, The juxtaposition of prayer driven by the desire to be good and the self-help industry’s drive to make money by pointing out and profiting off the “bad” really sticks out to me. How do we undo our conditioned toxicity? I appreciate the vulnerability that is at once outwardly stated “plan for wealth/less belly fat” and also between the lines, The inherent unsatisfactoriness we all experience, is often met with contempt instead of curiosity. Your poem meets the moment with curiosity, presence, and the reminder- all we can do is try- and that has to be enough.

Angie Braaten

Wow, you have created your own form here. It works so well. I’m in awe. I can understand the feeling in the last line. Trying, maybe not successfully, but really trying. I do not practice a religion but I have tried in the past. Thank you for sharing, Joel. I was born in Dallas.

Kasey Dearman

Thank you for this lovely chance to write. My baby calls honeysuckle bushes – honey suckers. This is for Fin.

Honey Suckers

Earth is the right place for love-
is where I am I’m with you, where
the honey suckle blooms yellow  
right under a moonless night sky, the only 
place little boys with little bare feet giggle 
for all time, sweet breezes, honey-eyed.
love is the first suckle of spring 

kjd

*line borrowed from “Birches” Robert Frost

Last edited 22 days ago by Kasey Dearman
Joel R Garza

Kasey, every year I teach Frost, I steel myself for it being the year where students just don’t vibe with him. Decades running, that has never happened. My favorite part of your chosen line is its seriocomic completion (“I don’t know where it’s likely to go better”)

Your shift from Earth to youth, from spring to the spring of a person’s life really landed for me. The repeated little with giggle and the long vowels of place and bare feet drew my ear to that powerfully joyful image. This dad of teenagers longs for those days : ) Thank you for reminding me of them!

anita ferreri

Kasey, Fin’s name is the best! I adore those bushes bursting with spring as well! Your poem captures hope as well as the joy of little boys “with bare feet” who embrace nature with abandon.

Darshna

Kasey,
What a joyful reminder:

Earth is the right place for love-

is where I am I’m with you, 

little bare feet giggle 

Your poem captures the innocence, beauty, with so much sweetness. Love it!

Angie Braaten

Honeysuckle bushes are an important part of my childhood. We used to ride our bikes down to the house that had them hanging on their wooden fence and suck them. I love this image: “the only / place little boys with little bare feet giggle / for all time,” thanks for sharing this lovely poem for Fin!

Barb Edler

Kasey, oh my, I love the fore note about “honey suckers.” You’ve captured a loving, tender voice in this poem. I adore the images of honey suckle blooms, the moonless night sky, and “little bare feet giggle” is beyond precious. Your final line is truly divine. Sighing with Ahhhhs and Oooohs!

anita ferreri

Angie, your poem form is a first for me but I love it as well as your poem that of course led me to think of war as I was swimming this morning. I was thinking about Audrey Hepburn’s message: Nothing is impossible, the word itself says I’m possible. Then I imagined
THIS as a crazy conversation between the leader of the free world and me!  Admittedly, this is a draft!

Nothing is impossible, the word itself says I’m possible. 
Is it really possible for this hate and anger to dissipate and to live in peace? I ask
Impossible for us to lose as we are most powerful and on the side of good and right! He says
The devastation is impacting not just us but people around the globe! I say
Word from the ground says it will be over very, very soon. Maybe a week or less! He yells
Itself, just a blip in the world’s history so far, we’re making long-term enemies everywhere! I say
Says who? Everyone loves what we are doing! We are saving the world from terrorism! He promises
I’m really afraid we encouraging others to not trust us! I say
Possible ways out of this mess, I mean situation, are on my mind, too, he sighs checking is 401K

Kasey Dearman

I love this raw poem. I love writing to work through the complex feelings we are feeling. You capture his carelessness well. I think you’re on to something great with this idea!

Joel R Garza

omg I have never heard that Hepburn quotation — thank you for bringing it to my morning. And thank you for your brave & provocative dialogue. The progression from saying to yelling to promising makes for a relatable drama unfolding. Even at the level of punctuation (loads of question marks & exclamations), you’re unpacking the ways that political discourse works (or doesn’t work). Nice job with the brave, not-naive resolution too. Wow.

Cheri Mann

You’ve gone and captured his voice and the likelihood that what is said doesn’t reply to the question or comment posed to him but veers off into the abyss. And the exclamation marks and the yelling–fitting. Well done.

Angie Braaten

What a great quote. Didn’t know about it, will save it. And what a unique poem. The idea, the conversation, it works so well with the words in this quote. I agree with Cheri that you express his voice well. And your honest concerns and questions a stark contrast to whatever he is saying. Thank you.

Barb Edler

Anita, wow, I am in awe of your poem, and your poem’s conversation speaks directly to my heart. I am in constant fear of the devastation, the greed, the mess being made. Your last line is gob smacking brilliant. “just a blip” has me pause and well as “making long-term enemies everywhere”. Deeply moving and powerful poem!

Leilya A Pitre

Anita, as if the golden hinge isn’t challenging enough, you add a dialogue complexity to it. Well done! Love the metaphoric names for the leader: “Word from the ground,” and “Itself, just a blip.”

Stefani B

Angie, Thank you for hosting today. This Golden Hinge is a new variation of the shovel, and I appreciate the structure. I enjoyed the line you picked and your last line works well to wrap it all together as a poem of life.

I wasn’t sure where this Sexton quote would take me, but what I share below now sounds like a silly graduation card:)

Whatever you do, don’t be boring
You have one life, spark the joy, brush off kakorrhaphiophobia
Do what brings a smile to your heart, be bodacious in your choices
Don’t forget to apologize, even when you need to be clandestine, move on
Be bold, allow bamboozles, celebrate with intentional brouhahas, only be
Boring when doldrums call you, pause to move beyond the quixotic, it’s a blank slate

Anne Sexton: “One of my secret instructions to myself as a poet is: ’whatever you do, don’t be boring.’”

Last edited 22 days ago by Stefani B
Barb Edler

Stefani, I love the line you’ve chosen, and your poem would be perfect for a graduation card. Now I am inspired to use a hinge poem for graduation messages. Your last line though elevates the entire poem, and I do love the diction especially the following words: kakorrhaphiophobia, bamboozles, bodacious, quixotic, and who doesn’t love an intentional brouhaha! What a fun read!

Ok, the first line made me smile. And I also was reading Sexton’s poetry just the other day. And another new word from you to me, kakorrhaphiophobia. I am so impressed by the vocabulary here woven into live advice, so many nuggets of truth. I will carry them with me today as we venture out. Note to self, don’t be boring. Got it.

Sarah

Kasey Dearman

Your poem is definitely not boring. I particularly love the strong rhythmic B sounds at the end. You brought a levity alongside a deep wisdom. Lovely.

anita ferreri

Stefani, I am in disagreement only with your poem’s introduction as a “silly” card! These are profound ideas about the need to embrace this one opportunity at life with brave and kind choices. Your word choices of kakorrphphobial and brouhahas make me both smile and remember the value of laughing at ourselves.

Darshna

Stefani,
I applaud you for both entertaining and educating me with new vocabulary. I love the imagination and fun within your poem. The opening line from Anne Sexton is perfect! I will take this with me tinto the weekend adventures. Thank you!

Angie Braaten

This poem could be used in class to teach such great vocabulary words!! Love your word choice and the line you chose. It reminds me of Bowie’s quote. I saw this in a window in downtown Denver. Thanks for sharing, Stefani.

IMG_4634
Lori Sheroan

The vocabulary in your poem delighted me! You absolutely took Anne Sexton’s advice and created a poem that is anything but boring. It’s engaging!

Barb Edler

Angie, I appreciate this new form and know I will continue to have fun with this one. I really love the tone of your poem, and your last line is pure dynamite!

Severe Storm Warning

I find myself out in the street interrogating raindrops.
Find myself naked, deranged mooning planets, distant stars by
myself submerged beneath mud puddles where everything’s blurred. I’m
out in the street browbeating raindrops to answer, howling
in agony for answers while these dam raindrops keep falling and
the callous world shuns me because I’m a broken
street, a dead-end, back-alley junky, no one understands.
Interrogating raindrops: Where is he? Why won’t he answer,
raindrops? I gotta know, ‘cuz this pain’s too deep and I’m drowning.

Barb Edler
18 April 2027

line taken from di renegade “48 Hours After You Left”

Oh my gosh, Barb. Mooning planets. Love it. Should be the title of your poem collection. Yes, definitely. And then the turn “I am a broken/street.” That hit me hard toward the drowning, which was a feeling I started with today in my poem, reflecting on the drowning moments of my life. Lots to ponder here, Barb. Beautiful balance.

Kasey Dearman

The balance you strike here is genius. Truly. I appreciate being able to practice feeling two contrary emotions at once, and your poem allows me to do that- to strike on a truth- perspective, truth- well they are complex concepts and often contradictory. I am in awe of the masterful use of deep wisdom in your poem. Thank you!

anita ferreri

Barb, this poem leaves me breathing deeply and thinking about how grief takes so many forms and intrudes in all aspects of our lives. Your questions of “where is he, why won’t he answer” are real and I only wish I knew the answer. I am pretty sure your words are bringing feelings that others share for loved ones to the surface. I am pretty sure this needs to be published in your anthology.

kim johnson

Barb, your poem cuts deep to the core of the soul seeking answers in the midst of so much uncertainty except for the certainty of raindrops that continue to fall, almost taunting the need for the answers as if each raindrop transforms into a question mark as it pelts down. I feel the hands out, seeking something, anything, in the dark as I read the lines, each deepening in the puddle water that surrounds. You have a way of capturing the emotional charge of the reader and showing us this feeling.

Susan O

This is very vibrant and beautiful, Barb. “Naked, mooning planets, stars mud, rain, junky, drowning” all show longing and the pain of losing someone.

Fran Haley

Barb, your poem reads like a monologue in a play – I can see the character onstage, in “a broken street” crying out in despair – real, vivid, gut-wrenching. Coming un-“hinged”. Incredible craft and artistry!

Margaret G Simon

“I’m a broken street … no one understands” I’m in awe of what you did with this, a work of art in metaphor.

Glenda M. Funk

Barb,
Your poem is 🔥. Brilliant. “Interrogating raindrops” and “mooning planets” evoke humor and a mad woman in the attic ethos, i.e. a paradox. I don’t know how to react at that point in the poem. As it evolves into this serious anger at the world and tension about pain, I have a visceral reaction. Stunning poem full of emotion.

Angie Braaten

God, this poem is pure dynamite, Barb! The idea of interrogating raindrops and all you add to this line is so good. “I’m a broken
street, a dead-end, back-alley junky, no one understands.” What a metaphor. Thank you for sharing.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Barb, this is a compelling shovel line, and what you’ve done with it is equally so. Water shapes this poem, from the submersion in mud puddles to the drowning – it feels like a birth in many ways too. I’m especially drawn to your metaphors – the broken street, the dead-end. Mooning planets brought a smile.

Leilya A Pitre

Barb, the title of your poem loudly foreshadows or explicitly warns about severe storm. I can see these raindrops that keep falling and drowning hope for the speaker, for us, and for the world These words give out your aches: “I’m a broken /street, a dead-end, back-alley junky, no one understands.” You know the power of words!

Margaret Simon

Angie, I have been reading Theo of Golden and falling in love with not just Theo, but all of the people he meets. There is a chapter I’ve been wanting to use to create a found poem. This prompt led me back to it.

Answer the call of that river
the thread of color, woven into the evening.
Call a memory
of beauty, the feeling of sacredness,
that daily bread
River paints into a sunset to carry home.

after Theo of Golden by Allen Levi

kim johnson

Margaret, this is my favorite book in a long, long time. And what a line you have taken for you poem! Answer the call of that river. Yes, yes! I’m raising a glass of port in cheers for your poem today and for all the ways Theo brings joy. I know you find the meaning so deep and personal as your eyes move to the bayou and the wood ducks and the reflection on all the ways waterways ground us and bring peace. Salut!

Diane Anderson

Theo of Golden offers inspiration in many ways. I’ve read another poem already this morning inspired by it. I wrote a cento in March during SOLSC.

Barb Edler

Margaret, wow, what a gorgeous poem. I love “Call a memory” “the feeling of sacredness” and “into a sunset to carry home.” The river captures my attention and heart daily. I can relate to the religious tones of your poem. Brilliant!

Gayle j sands

Margaret—I, too, wrote before I read! You capture the mood of that chapter perfectly. Wonderful poem; phenomenal book!

Lovely, Margaret. Such a calm of gentle movement to “carry home.” Yes.

Jamie Langley

Margaret, I love the line you selected to write about. Your poem illuminates those words – thread of color, woven into the evening – call of memory – river paints into a sunset. You’ve piqued my interest in the book you are reading.

Rachel S

I just started reading Theo of Golden last night! This makes me excited for more 🙂 I love “the feeling is sacredness, / that daily bread”.

Susan O

I can picture myself on the riverbank watching the sunset color turn into evening. That scene in itself invokes memories in me.

Carrie Horn

This is lovely. I will have to check out Theo of Golden. Your poem evokes many scenarios for me… the running water of a river, which in my head and heart equals adventures in fishing. And the hush of a sunset that is spiritual in its glory. Thank you!

Angie Braaten

Oh, another reader of Theo of Golden, cool! You have included some lovely images. I love “thread of color” and how positive this poem is. Thank you.

Fran Haley

Margaret, with this exquisite found poem, you (and Theo) remind me that if we cannot sense the sacred, we cannot feel awe, and if we cannot be awed anymore, we lose our way. I haven’t read the book. I know that I must.

She Still Walks with Me

My feet against the feet of another woman
feet pressing Cusco, Colle, Crete—places that hold me up
against sand roads in Hurghada where dogs follow the setting sun
the convent air in Palermo, cannoli sweetness I cannot forget
feet on colonial cobblestones in Mazatlán, echoes under each step
of water beneath stone, sand beneath water, layers beneath naming
another self moving under all of this, inverted, watching
woman, I am not finished with you; you are not finished with me

Thank you for this article and prompt, Angie. “My project of staying alive” is precisely why I am here writing poetry with you all, though I haven’t thought about dying much since we started our sabbitment. Also, why I am taking this year to walk with these versions of Self. Chatti explains it all so well, and I am grateful for this encounter with her and you and us that you have offered me. I borrowed a line from Chatti’s essay: “My feet against the feet of another woman.” Gracias, amiga.

kim johnson

Sarah, I am so glad you and Angie are bringing us the essays of Chatti and the golden hinge poems that may be my favorite form so far this year of VerseLove. I can’t wait to write more of these – they are like exercise for the brain and peace for the soul in that way that the body feels better after a brisk walk. Your poem speaks volumes to me, as I think of the ways I’m held up and strengthened when my work self is waning and I can feel it but I feel so energized when I can write. You say it wonderfully…..and that last line hits it home in big ways – – done with a chapter, but not finished yet. There is revival left in the soul, and the stirrings are working their magic.

Stunning. I love the way the ‘hinge’ also offers (at least for you) the repetition of ‘feet’ which aren’t permanently locked in one location, firmly on the grown, but in movement…in discovery…

of water beneath stone, sand beneath water, layers beneath naming.

Barb Edler

Sarah, I am transfixed by the tactile and emotional elements of your poem. The act of pressing feet against another woman is immediately compelling along with the dogs, the cannoli sweetness, and sand beneath water. Your poem is full of emotion, rich imagery, and the ending is provocative. “places that hold me up” is a line I need to borrow.

Jamie Langley

Sarah, I love how the line you selected becomes a vehicle for your travels. It could become captions for a visual map of those travels. Which I have enjoyed vicariously following through your poems. Crete and Cusco are places I am fortunate to have visited. Thanks for taking us along.

Julie Elizabeth Meiklejohn

Oh my…the specific, vivid details in this poem are simply breathtaking. I find myself thinking of the shadow self, of the many layers of “selves” we all carry within us wherever we go.

Angie Braaten

Sarah, I love that you used a line from Chatti’s essay. It’s a great line. “another self moving under all of this, inverted, watching” wow, I totally understand. I can feel this as something that has happened to me. And the last line of course, is amazing. The command, the confidence. Love it. Gracias tambien! 🙂

Margaret G Simon

Sarah, I am so glad you’ve made space in your travel to be here with us. I love the declaration of the final line!

Glenda M. Funk

Sarah,
It’s 3:32 am as I’m reading your poem, as it touches something unnamed in my soul, a need to be present in all the world. I am crying stupid white eoman tears in this epiphany. “another self moving under all of this, inverted, watching
woman, I am not finished with you; you are not finished with me”
I so hope this is true for me.

kim johnson

Angie, wow! What an amazing form to learn today, and one to practice more. Your hinge line made me chuckle – – like that trigger warning peace that nothing bad will happen. As a child, I got hooked on poetry in the pages of Childcraft by one poem that did it for me – Overheard on a Salt Marsh by Harold Monro, and so I took a line from Joy Sullivan’s Remember What It Was Like to Be a Kid? from her book Instructions for Traveling West

Tribute to Harold Monro

have you found the jewel of language
you discovered in childcraft volume 1 when you
found the one with a nymph and a goblin in
the salt marsh mesmerized by an emerald necklace
jewel stolen from the moon
of your dreams, carried in your soul, this captivating
language of poetry still shimmering green?

brcrandall

I believe Harold Monro would love to sit for a while with your poem dedicated to him, as you’ve rediscovered jewels hinged upon your craft and his influence. Nice.

Barb Edler

Gosh, Kim, this is truly beautiful. I love the closing question and the delightful magic you’ve captured with “jewel stolen from the moon” “nymph and a goblin”. I’m in love with this one!

Joel R Garza

What a joy to have you introduce me to these writers, first of all! I admire the utterly breathless pace / tone here. And given how often our instinct is for resolution in a poem, I admire tremendously your preservation of the question, your invitation not just to see the jewel but your invitation to the reader to ask what we once found. Thank you!

Julie Elizabeth Meiklejohn

Oh, I loved Childcraft! The idea of finding story and language rather than creating it is such a cool thought…like it’s all just safely buried somewhere, waiting for intrepid poets to quest to discover it.

Angie Braaten

Well, writing a tribute poem for Monro would be one thing but then you take it even further and use a line from a living poet that you love from a poem about being a kid?!? Amazing. I absolutely love “this captivating / language of poetry still shimmering green” it’s so unique and meaningful. Thanks for sharing. I need to get Sullivan’s book.

Fran Haley

-What are the odds, Kim???? Actually – pretty high, that we would (at some point, or several) land on the same plane with the same bird in the pilot’s seat (suddenly I think of Willems’ Pigeon, ha) – and, in today’s case, with the goblin and some green glass there on the wings. I thought of you immediately upon discovering Riley’s poem this morning. It was the first poem with a “hinge” line that worked for me. Your tribute-poem is a jewel itself, not stolen, but found, and given to enchant us like Munro’s jewel was expressly given to that little girl in the closet with her flashlight so long ago. Think of the paradox – the nymph who would not give her stolen green glass beads to the goblin who longed for them so, and the “jewel of language,” poetry, that is given here so freely and makes us long for more. You show us just how mesmerizing and captivating and shimmering green the language of poetry is.

Glenda M. Funk

Kim,
I believe each day as we write we are searching for that jewel, and that search is why we’re here, and that search is a need we have like oxygen for our souls. I am happy to be on that search w/you, dear friend. I echo Bryan’s comment.

Lori Sheroan

Kim, you have found the “jewel of language.” I stopped and read your poem aloud so my ears could savor the words. The image of a child falling in love with poetry is, indeed, heart-warming.

anita ferreri

Kim, for me it was the poetry section of the Book of Knowledge, a 5 volume edition that included many poems and gems of articles that suggested, “it is unlikely in our lifetimes that man will walk on the moon.” Today’s poem ends with the line I will carry with me into my dreams with the ” language of poetry still shimmering.”  Wow

Diane Anderson

I really love this challenge!

The Question Is

Have you ever been so happy in your life?
You see more beauty than you
ever have known, and in the moment have
been given hope, however fragile-
so let hope remain. Will you be
happy 
in the perfect little moments 
your life presents and let them be your
Life?

The golden hinge, “Have you ever been so happy in your life?” Is from Mary Oliver’s poem Goldfinches. The poem was recently published in a picture book with art by Melissa Sweet. 

Margaret Simon

Your question is so true of my life right now. I am working to feel the “perfect moments” and let them be my life. Too often we can get distracted by the tough stuff, the challenges that befall each day. Thanks for offering this solace.

kim johnson

Diane, your poem is a gem! As golden as a goldfish, a goldfinch, a gold coin. I feel like this day of poems is just sheer treasure – – like we are getting double poems because I want to go and read all the originals the lines were taken from. I want the happy to be my life, too! As your last line asks. What a great question!!

brcrandall

I can never see Mary Oliver’s name w/o thinking of this performance by Etude a few years ago. I love how your particular take, Diane, hinges upon a question, as it then overs a resolution to what is being asked. Lovely.

Barb Edler

Diane, what a compelling question to open with. I’d love every senior student graduating from high school or college to read your poem. You’ve captured a whole philosophy, and your title is the perfect set up.

Angie Braaten

That is a great line to choose, Diane. I love the positivity in this and the bookend of the question. “Let hope remain” is a great affirmation and “will you…let them be your life?” a great ending question, hoping that ae will. Thank you.

Linda M.

I know, right? I love this challenge too!
The perfect little gift of moments…moments of hope. I wish this for all educators everywhere. Some weeks are just a tough slog. We need those moments.I’m so grateful for the people in my building and verse-lovers that give me/us moments!

Fran Haley

Diane, Mary Oliver is a treasure trove of wondrous lines, and I love this little gem you extracted. It is a lesson I keep learning every day, to be happy in the little moments that are so fleeting and fast, ticking away like the clock. To recognize their preciousness in real time is the true golden hinge of life. From the title to the end, this is a beautiful poem.

Lori Sheroan

This flowed beautifully! I try to notice those “perfect little moments.” Thanks for reminding me of the importance of doing so.

Rita DiCarne

Angie, thank you for this prompt and a form new to me. I loved your poem. I have experienced many deaths in the last seven months, and the last lines of your poem remind me that poetry can transcend the losses and hold places for the departed.

Though we need to weep your loss
we need to remember the love
need to keep telling stories of you
to keep your memory and spirit alive
weep we must, sometimes we’re sad
your leaving left a huge, unfilled void
loss is hard, but remembering the love helps

**The Golden Hinge line is from “In the Death of the Beloved” by John O’Donohue

Diane Anderson

Your poem is a beautiful way to hold places for those we have lost. Weep we must.
Remembering the live hells.

Angie Braaten

Rita, I think your poem definitely pays respect and shows love to those we have lost. I think that’s what I was intending to do with my poem but it’s kind of harsh with the amount of times dead, death, and dies is repeated. Anyway, I really appreciate your repetition of “need” and “keep” as things we know we must do and will do after experiencing loss. Thank you.

Margaret Simon

I lost a colleague recently and am trying hard, as you say, to keep her memory and spirit without focusing too long on the void she leaves behind. Your grief is a shared experience.

kim johnson

Rita, I always love your poems, but this one today is my favorite. There is hope, there is light, there is love even in the loss, love that transcends the darkness and accepts that it will only be dark for the blink of an eye. The love carries on, as joy comes in the morning. Beautiful!

Barb Edler

“but remembering the love helps” Oh, my yes, Rita. I can relate to this message and am in awe how well you captured what the grieving must remember and experience. Kudos! The void is real!

Linda M.

Beautiful. I think this would be a lovely offering at a memorial service of a loved one.

Jamie Langley

Rita, this is a perfect line to highlight and elaborate remembrance. I love your words – remember the love, telling stories, weep we must. I always find there is so much love and merriment attached to those we have lost.

Fran Haley

Rita – yes to all these things we need to do when we lose someone we love. Remember the love, most of all – indeed – for it really does last forever.

Last edited 21 days ago by Fran Haley
Susan Ahlbrand

Rita,
This flows in such a lovely way that it doesn’t at all feel as if you worked with an existing framework dictated by the line. I guess that’s the point, but you sure succeeded. I know your grief is still so raw and I hope your own words help you to hold onto the good, the memories, the love.

Stacey Joy

I love how you’ve been honoring your beloved husband (and the many others you’ve recently lost) through your poetry. Keeping their spirits alive is exactly what you’re doing.

Hugs, Rita. 💙

Gayle j sands

Angie—this was a great challenge! Your poem is wonderful. These lines spoke to me:

“in between the lines of
this life-giving text, this
poem transcends their death.”

I just finished “Theo of Golden”. What an amazing book. Theo carried sadness with him, but he sought out joy, and shared it. This quote stood out to me…

Sadness might be many things, but it is rarely stupid.”
Allen Levi, Theo of Golden

Sadness has moved in. 
Might I evict it, like a bad mood, I would. 
Be-lieve me, I would. Sadness slows the soul.
Many days, Joy sidles in, but there is not enough room to remain..
Things may coax a smile,
but sadness hides behind
it. Sadness is quiet. It knows that Sorrow
is lurking around the corner, ready to jump in.
Rarely is Sadness wrong, for life is full of sorrow. It would be
stupid to pretend it is not. 

But oh, how I wish I could…
GJ Sands 
4-18-26

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Gayle, I feel every inch of your poem. This line, “Many days, Joy sidles in, but there is not enough room to remain” especially. There is such wisdom in your words (life is full of sorrow) and weight too. Nothing unneeded, over-explained. Just truth. Wow!

Rita DiCarne

Gayle, I love Theo of Golden and your poem. Your poem resonates with me and my grief journey. I am realizing that our society doesn’t know how to handle sadness. Your last two lines sum it up completely.

Angie Braaten

Hi Gayle, Theo of Golden added to my TBR. Thanks. I love the use of “Be-lieve me” and repetition of “I would”. Was wondering how you were going to fit “stupid” in and you did it very well, especially with that last line after!

Gayle j sands

(I was concerned about the “stupid”, as well!)

Margaret Simon

I didn’t read yours before I posted mine, but we are on the same wavelength reading Theo. What a gift of language! I like how you used the line at the end as a kind of chorus to conclude. The capital S personifies Sadness and Sorrow. We carry them with us daily.

Diane Anderson

Theo of Golden inspires in many ways. I am inspired by the line joy slides in… and things may coax a smile. Sadness is not stupid, it does not take away all joy. Sorrow lingers, but joy is persistent, too.

kim johnson

Gayle, what a poem! And what a great choice – – Theo is my favorite character in a long time, and I want to stand at the top of the Empire State Building with a voice as loud as the world and throw copies down like rain to every person everywhere to read it…..and then this poem, and Margaret Simon’s, just get my Theo joy sparked all over again. I like the way you bring to light in your poem that life is so full of its ups and downs…..that there is happiness and joy, but sorrow lurks at every turn in this life.

Barb Edler

Gayle, I love the voice you’ve captured in your poem today. I am particularly taken by “Sadness is quiet”. Love the way this flows and ends. Powerful!

Linda M.

Oh, my….oh, my. The terrible beauty of this poem is my understanding of the place that the words come from. “Rarely is sadness wrong.” The truth of that is just so huge. Beautiful words.

Fran Haley

Gayle, I’ve heard others’ reactions to Theo of Golden and I feel I must check it out for myself. What a compelling and challenging hinge line – but you worked it beautifully. The quiet but dominating force of sadness (turned into a persona, Sadness) is real. Sorrow make be lurking around the corner, but as I read, Sadness appears to me much like Grief which definitely takes the oxygen out of the room. I would hope (Hope?) that Joy is just biding her time in the corner..she is never far…so much to think about here! Thank you for this-

Susan Ahlbrand

Theo of Golden is one of my favorite books ever and you pulled a marvelous line to be a hinge. And what you did with it . . . you capture what spells of depression feel like so perfectly. “Sadness slows the soul” is just such an apt description and then follow it talking of how one wants the joy to come and stay but it just doesn’t happen. Bravo on a fabulous poem and for tackling such a tough topic!

Stacey Joy

Gayle, powerful and moving! The personification of sadness and sorrow make it more clear how much power they have over all of us. I love these two lines in particular because it demonstrates what happens when sadness sticks around too long.

Sadness is quiet. It knows that Sorrow

is lurking around the corner, ready to jump in.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Angie, what a great form (I feel as if I’ve landed in a whole new playscape) and inspirational poem (you’ve chosen a powerful line to build from!). I honestly can’t decide which line I love best as they all resonate deeply.

Put a silencing finger to the lips–
a demand from those around you who are
silencing your voice. Instead you give them the
finger–one gesture
to another, a necessary act.
The finger does the talking when
lips are silenced.

*”put a silencing finger to the lips” is from Shane Koyczan’s A Letter to Remind Myself Who I Am.

Angie Braaten

Ooo Jennifer, “the finger does the talking when / lips are silenced” so powerful. I absolutely love Shane Koyczan’s To This Day and have seen a few other works of his but had not yet read A Letter to Remind Myself Who I Am. So many good lines in that. Thanks for sharing!

Margaret Simon

“The finger does the talking” made me chuckle.

kim johnson

Jennifer, I love that middle line….like the middle finger. Clever you! You always find a way to use the visual and the literal and the image of language the way it is positioned to carry a message loud and clear, even in a poem about silence. You raised the bar on this one….(and the finger, LOL).

Barb Edler

Jennifer, oh my, I so love everything about your poem. “The finger does the talking” is absolutely divine. I also appreciate the different levels of silence here! Sometimes the finger does need to talk, and I hear it speaking loud and clear in your poem. Very fun read!

Linda M.

oooooh, girl you are singing my song. First, a new playscape. Yep! And, giving them the finger…I don’t know what it is about my aging but I’m much less polite than I used to be. I don’t tend to be rude in public. But, behind my closed doors is a different story. I am so done with anyone trying to silence me or others. Harumph!

Fran Haley

Jennifer, first: The golden hinge IS a whole new playscape! I knew right away that whatever I turned out first would be a mere scratch in the dust. I must play more with this form. Now, as for your golden hinge…the lines flow so fluidly into each other that they feel completely uncontrived. Masterful in craft, word choice, and warning (my brain interprets it by mischievously rewriting an ancient code to read “a finger for a finger”…).

Last edited 21 days ago by Fran Haley
Stacey Joy

Jennifer,
Wow, you centered the “finger to the lips” and crafted an evocative poem! You are a genius with your words and how well your poems flow, even with minimal lines.

Gayle j sands

Ohhhh, yes! The finger does the talking…

Fran Haley

What a fun challenge, Angie – and what a fabulous line you chose for your hinge! Your poem literally hinges the life and death experience. Every line packs its own punch, nothing is wasted, and I am savoring the truth that “this poem transcends their deaths” – which happen offstage, since no one dies or is dead in this poem – there’s a circular feel to your lines, again like life and death.

So. I could spend all day, multiple days, probably, seeking the perfect line for my first golden hinge poem. I decided instead to do a little hunt for poems with the word “hinge” in them and found quite a number of them. This little fragment beckoned more than the others, so here we are. Thank you for the inspiration today!

The Call

Like the screech of a rusty hinge, 
the grackle calls from its hidden bower—
scrrreeeeeeeeeech—it is the sound
of long ago, and summer, and childhood,
a sound I never knew I loved, ‘til now:
rusty screen door at Grandma’s, opening on its
hinge

——-

“Like the screech of a rusty hinge” is from “Nine Little Goblins” by James Whitcomb Riley.

Note to Kim Johnson: The goblins in Riley’s poem have green-glass eyes 🙂

Angie Braaten

Fran, I like that you decided to find poems with the word hinge in them. Clever. The addition of “scrrreeeeeeeeeech” is great and of course coming to the realization of loving the sound of Grandma’s screen door. I can hear it in many places I know!

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Fran, how clever to create a hinge poem from the word hinge! You’ve completely embraced the form. We hear the sound of it in scrrreeeeeeeeeeech, we see the shape of it in the horizontal and vertical lines, we touch the rusty door at Grandma’s. Like you noted in Angie’s poem, you create a circular feel by pulling the summers and childhood of past into the sound of the present. I love that the first poem of the day offers us a door and sets walking through them into motion.

Margaret Simon

I always know when we’ve passed over the Texas border because of the grackles. I am usually annoyed by their sound, but you’ve given me a new perspective, one to appreciate.

kim johnson

Fran, I just read the goblins poem and I’m absolutely smitten with this original (wouldn’t it be fun for your granddaughters to illustrate this one with a brand new set of watercolors??), and then with the golden hinge that you wrote to capture the sound you love so much that echoes back through the ages to land in a soft screech on your heart. Your poem is SO Fran, your fingerprints everywhere. Powerful, my friend. I am honored that you remembered my fixation with green glass and the poem that started my love of it all. I like the way you used onomatopoeia in your poem, changing the second use of screech to a sound effect. Isn’t it interesting that we both chose goblins and green glass today? I had not read your poem until I finished mine, so apparently these Twilight Zone moments like seeing misplaced herons fly over on the same afternoon are still happening…..(I’m hearing Twilight Zone theme here)…..

Barb Edler

Fran, your bird loving soul is perfectly captured in your poem today. What a perfect line to draw your poem from, and I am completely taken in by the lines

of long ago, and summer, and childhood,
a sound I never knew I loved, ‘til now:”

What a great epiphany to reveal in a poem! Beautiful!

Linda M.

Beautiful…and this verse looks so effortless. I love that elongated “scrrrreeeeeeeeech.”

Darshna

Fran,
I love the drama, sound bytes, and nostalgia wrapped up in this poem. The screeeech adds emphasis and the perfect pitch for this poetry.

Stacey Joy

Fran, fun poem and it brought back a sound memory for me as well. I wonder if every grandma’s screen door made that same sound. 🥰

Gayle j sands

Fran— you have created a beautiful memory in a creative hinge, Love this!

Diane Anderson

I enjoyed thinking about the screen door throughout the day… thinking back to summer days and where I heard that screen door sound. I mostly remember it from visiting my husband’s relatives in Georgia (in one county, almost any door you knock on would be a relative!) I looked up grackles and listened to recordings, found we do have them where I live and recognized their calls when I heard them. I appreciate the reference to James Whitcomb Riley… I live near his birthplace. I read his poems growing up- my favorites were Little Orphant Annie and The Raggedy Man. At our state museum, an enactor sometimes walks around and recites poems for visitors.