Welcome to Verselove—a space for educators to nurture their writing lives and celebrate poetry in the community. Each day in April, we come together to explore the power of poetry for both heart and mind. Write with care, for yourself and your readers. When responding, reflect back the beauty you find—lines that linger, ideas that inspire. Enjoy the journey. (Learn more here.If you’d like to host a Verselove Day in 2026, sign up here.)

Our Host

Stefani is an Associate Professor of Education at Aquinas College in Michigan. She teaches courses for pre-service and in-service teachers in instructional design, literacy, ed tech, and research methods. Her K-12 teaching was in California prior to moving into teacher preparation. 

Inspiration

I have hosted this prompt around titles before–but I always love the outcome and variations that are produced. So here we are again, near the end of another Verselove (congratulations everyone 🎉!)

Poem titles are not discussed, practiced, or modified as often as the art of crafting a poem. Therefore, I wanted to remind us again about the power of titles and how they have the potential to hold the hand of the poem and lead it to new interpretations.

First, read this translated poem by Chilean artist Claudio Bertoni:

I’d like to be a nest if you were a little bird.
I’d like to be a scarf if you were a neck and were cold.
If you were music, I’d be an ear.
If you were water, I’d be a glass.
If you were light, I’d be an eye.
If you were a foot, I’d be a sock.
If you were the sea, I’d be a beach.
And if you were still the sea, I’d be a fish,
and I’d swim in you.
And if you were the sea, I’d be salt.
And if I were salt, you’d be lettuce,
an avocado or at least a fried egg.
And if you were a fried egg,
I ‘d be a piece of bread.
And if I were a piece of bread,
you’d be butter or jam.
If you were jam,
I’d be the peach in the jam.
If I were a peach,
you’d be a tree.
And if you were a tree,
I’d be your sap…
and I’d course through your arms like blood.
And if I were blood,
I’d live in your heart.

Process

Take a moment to consider how you would title this poem. Is it about a romantic partnership, a parent-child relationship, or something else? As the audience, we can only determine this based on our interpretation of the words or our own experiences. 

Here is the original title of this poem in Spanish: “Para Una Joven Amiga Que Intentó Quitarse La Vida” and the English translation: “For a young friend who tried to take her own life.”

Now, read the poem again, partnered with the complexity of the poem’s title. Did this change the meaning for you? Did it change your emotions as you read it, now knowing who the poem was for? Would you agree that this title has a significant impact on the context?

Another example of a complex or multi-meaning title is Lucille Clifton’s Climbing or Joy Buolamwini’s AI, Ain’t I a Woman? spoken word title bringing modern and historical references together.

Stefani’s Poem

For my writing, I decided to play around with the title and words in this nonet poem:

“Press Eject”

Inhale, only the positive, breathe
In, exhale internal stressors
Inquisitive flow of air
In pivoting reply
Into life’s unknown 
Increase mind-set
In upgrade
Incline
Out

Your Turn

Today I invite you to create a title centered on identifying or twisting the content, theme, or purpose of your poem. The topic and form are up to you–the focus today is on the title. You might consider one of the following to guide you today: 

  1. Return to a poem you’ve written during #Verselove25 and create a title change that might alter the context.
  2. Use an AI tool to title one of the poems you have written during #Verselove25.
  3. Write a poem with a twist, then invite all of us to title it for you. Later tonight, return to the comments and share what your original title was.
  4. Use a witty double entendre as your title and inspiration for writing today. 

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Chea Parton

Love the idea of revisiting previous work! I reworked a poem about winter rest to be about nighttime rest.

Bedtime

Dark 
is rest. 
So let us 
dream of dump trucks
mumble in slumber
chase dinosaurs to see
light lengthen and kiss the wide
horizon with the promise of
a new day of play and books and one
another. Sunshine dancing on eyelids

Denise Krebs

Stefani, I had fun considering which poem to rework or retitle. I even went to ChatGPT for some pretty good titles for one poem. I settled on this one. We wrote pantoums about flowers early in the month, and I was inspired by Azaleas, but it wasn’t really about azaleas, but I had in mind my daughter’s hurting family, who lost their infant daughter in September.

Take Care of Yourself for Me
By Phoebe
A pantoum not about Azaleas

Take care of yourself for me
Your wounds draw a new start
Grace and nurture for you three

Both to give and receive is key
Good is here to fill your heart
Take care of yourself for me

Building onto the family tree
Is adding your own leafy art
Grace and nurture for you three

What will endure, you will see
On the route, these steps all part
Take care of yourself for me

With gentleness and care, just be
Many dewy dawnings dart
Grace and nurture for you three

Hard things you will not flee
The unnamed you will chart
Take care of yourself for me
Grace and nurture for you three

Glenda Funk

Denise,
Your poem is gorgeous. My heart hurts for you and your family. Losing a baby is so hard. The grief never really ends, making a pantoum a perfect form to express both the hurt and the prayer for healing and taking care. Stunning poem. I hope you follow the advice in your poem and “take care of yourself for me.” Peace.

Barbara Edler

Holding your poem close to my heart, Denise. Your title is perfect. Losing a sweet, innocent child so suddenly is beyond devastating. I hope your family can find the grace and nurturing they need. Beautiful poem full of love and compassion. Hugs!

Leilya Pitre

Denise, sending love to you and your daughter’s family. Phoebe’s loss will never go away, but hope you will hold onto good memories about her. This poem so lovingly and gently reminds to take care of yourselves. A beautiful pantoum and a title that says so much ❤️🤗

Maureen Y Ingram

Denise, this is so beautiful. I am glad I slipped back to look at poems that were posted late. What a blessing, to imagine this missive, this guidance for living…it is a prayer. I love especially,

Hard things you will not flee

The unnamed you will chart

Take care of yourself for me

Holding you and your daughter & family in my heart.

Emily Martin

Thank you, Stefanie. I hope to spend more time with this prompt when I’m not so busy. I love the title of yours!

(Suggest title)

Click, pull, tighten
Raise the shade
Reach upward
Twist the vent
Let air flow

Whirring
Backing up
Now forward 
Faster and faster
Roaring
Nose lifting
Wings spreading
Exiting the earth
Welcoming the sky
Into the air.

Kim

Take off! (Maybe a bit too obvious for a title, but I could totally feel all the airline feels)

Denise Krebs

Emily, yes, this is a take off, as Kim said. Very well done! “Here We Go”

Kim

Stefani–thanks for the intriguing invitation today! I chose option number 5 and intentionally didn’t title this poem today–hoping for inspiration from this community. Ideas?

If the ocean were my bedroom
my dreams would be salty and big enough
to hold a blue whale
balancing the earth on a single puff of breath
before diving back into the depths of sleep
If the ocean were my bedroom
I would be lullabied by sea birds
and rocked to sleep by sea stars dancing on tiny tube feet
and wake
to the beauty of biodiversity
and possibility of interconnectedness
lessons learned in watery dreams
waiting to be lived
today

Kim Douillard
4-29-25

More info about the inspiration for this poem and my experience with first graders on my blog: https://thinkingthroughmylens.com/2025/04/29/if-npm25-day-29/

Denise Krebs

Kim,
I love the ‘blue whale balancing the earth on a single puff of breath” and the possibilities of nature at the end, so I thought of “Big Dreams” as a possible title.

Luke Bensing

I like the prompt today. Thank you Stephani. I do love a good title, I also agree that it can for sure add/change perspective or meaning to words contained therein. I have, however, gotten into this habit of not titling many of my quickly written poems in progress or just naming them by sharing a title with the first line.

I thought about posting a previously written poem without it’s original title, but instead Today I’ll write something and ask anyone who feels like giving it a title, please give it a title that you see fit in the comments. I can also see myself trying this exercise with my 9th grade students at some point.

Here’s my poem, you give it a title:

Quake and feel
your lungs constricting
heart rapidly increasing
suddenly
you knew the feeling
of having lost control

or illusion of what you knew
though never belonged to you
in case you needed proof
here, here it is again

cold, cold, shiver
breathing thinner
can’t quite hear her
moving as a river
but just the motion
not the sound

in the moment
you don’t see it
it is gonna take more time
later you will move along
you will live again
keep taking on life another day
it will be allright

Dave Wooley

Luke,
this is extremely visceral. The thing it brings to mind is the height of anxiety—a panic attack. That would be how I would title this—“Panic Attack”

Kasey D.

Maybe “Fake It Until You Make It”? I am not sure, but I felt this as if I were experiencing it too- nicely done!

Emily Martin

Your poem really induces emotion! It could be describing many different situations but when I read it, I thought of a break-up, so I might title it “The Break Up” or “At Relationship’s End”

Kasey D.

cross stitching
for Perdita Finn

in the light of a fish tank
in the quiet of how homes used to be
one thread at a time
threaded straight through the eye
down into the soft cloth which
yields like fertile dirt
a twist,  a choice
piercing back through 
the veil, my thread moves

I cross, weave 
at the needle’s whim
sink out of sight 
carefully push back 
through again
again into this life 

softly brushing against earlier threads
familiar as lovers who I refuse to forget

remembering is a prayer

the tapestry has two sides
the meaning I am making
the other side must be flipped to be seen 

I can scan all my timely stitches
witness the way the weaving 
intertwines what I know to be lifetimes
threaded in and out 
in and out of time

stitching the long story 
of our souls

Perdita Finn is fascinating, and I highly recommend her work. Something shifts when you believe you are living the long story of your soul, when you believe we are stitched together in the tapestry of time.

Emily Martin

Your poem has such great movement. Some lines could be song lyrics. I love these lines- “yields like fertile dirt
a twist, a choice
piercing back through 
the veil, my thread moves”

Denise Krebs

Kasey, wow, what a beautiful metaphor for life. Those last lines are just beautiful!

threaded in and out 

in and out of time

stitching the long story 

of our souls

Wendy Everard

Stefani, I didn’t have time to write today. But I did play with having Chatgpt title my poems which was kind of a hoot. It also gave me flattering feedback!
“This poem beautifully captures the mindfulness, joy, and sensory richness of cooking as a cherished ritual.”
“This poem captures the bittersweet mix of everyday challenges and the beauty of family and home life. It’s full of humor, tenderness, and a touch of chaos, which gives it a warm and grounded feeling.”
I felt weirdly flattered by a chatbot. LOL!

Kasey D.

This is genius. I have been letting AI give me some word banks; it was infinitely helpful for the double dactyl poem!

Ashley

I asked AI to create a title for my poems that I wrote over the last month. This was ChatGPT’s response:

“A Poem for Every Day” – simple, sincere, and true to the project.

“The Shape of April” – reflects the way your days and thoughts formed poetry.

“Glazed with Rain” – a beautiful phrase from Day 1 that gives a poetic, reflective tone.

“From the Corner of the World” – another striking line from Day 1, evokes uniqueness and perspective.

“Throw a Fit and Write a Poem” – nods to strength, rebellion, and catharsis (Day 3).

“Borrowed Lines, Original Heart” – acknowledges your intertextual style and strong emotional core.

“Where Poems Begin” – alludes to the poem on Day 6 and the spirit of starting fresh.

“Jazz Overflowed the Radio” – lyrical, nostalgic, rich with movement.

“The Dust Cover Protects the Pages” – metaphorical and beautiful (from Day 8), suggests resilience and care.

It inspired me to write a poem for Verse Love

Various poets inspire
Every day a new process
Relationships bloom, writers
Shaping a safe haven
Each with a unique voice

Love and writing all
Over the world
Verse love brings
Each of us together

Stefani B

Ashley, what a lovely way to nearly end verselove and remind us of the power of this space. Thank you for sharing.

Scott M

I love your Verse Love Poem, Ashley! “Love and writing all / Over the world / Verse love brings / Each of us together” Too True! And I smiled wide at “Throw a Fit and Write a Poem.” Yep, sometimes it works exactly like that, lol.

Kasey D.

Ha! Those poem titles sound like mine- I am not sure how to feel I love your poem that celebrates this community. This is the first time I have made it to the end, and I am so glad I did!

Denise Krebs

Ashley, lovely! I had some fun with ChatGPT too and the titles they suggested. “Relationships bloom” is a winner. So true about this space. Thank you!

Jamie Langley

Stefani, thank you for your invitation to write, took me a little time to find where I wanted to go – decided I’m inviting my audience to help me with a title – thanks in advance – Jamie
currently untitled
one Russian enameled box sits on my dresser
mine for more than 40 years
a gift from my future in-laws marking our engagement
an orange horse ridden by a knight holding a man above his head
painted on the lid and surrounded by swirling designs – signed and dated
the gift came with a note stating they were sharing this precious object with me
why do I keep it? nice, interesting, useful
the marriage ended the box remains

Ashley

Oh, what a wonderfully crafted poem! I can picture this box, and the last line is poignant.

Love Remains

Jamie, I like “currently untitled” — I can’t paint a picture of this box. I know where it came from. I don’t know why you keep it? I don’t know why the marriage ended. I don’t know what remains this box carries inside or in its being, and for all of those reasons, I like your title. You may decide to title it and share they why — or you may not.

Leilya Pitre

Hi, Jaimie! I think I know how that box looks like. And if it is what I think, then it is not just interesting and useful; it’s a valuable collectable.
I like the title of the poem “Currently Untitled,” as it reveals the uncertainty that comes with the poem. Marriages may not work, but some things stay. Thank you for sharing!

Stefani B

Jamie, what a sweet poem and a nod to amazing in-laws…how family comes and goes in so many forms.Thank you for sharing.

Luke Bensing

I don’t know any off the top of my head, but I’d maybe name it after some ancient Prussian dictator

Sheila Benson

Interesting prompt! My brain is complete mush, though, and titles are basically my nemesis, so I will, instead of following the prompt, write a poem about how hard it is to title poems.

Titles are my nemesis

Or maybe nemesis is too strong a word,
Because nemesis implies evil,
And titles aren’t evil.

Okay, maybe TITLES aren’t evil,
But those who hold the titles can be.
Is that metonymy?
I think it is.

What I mean is that I can write an amazing, thought-provoking piece
Where my ideas are flowing and I think, “Yes! I wrote that!”
And then I get ready to submit the manuscript for publication
And they ask for the title and I think,

“I have no idea.”

So I throw some ideas around,
Maybe, you know, a pithy quotation followed by a colon,
Followed by overly wordy academic language.
Then I scrap the whole thing and try again.
Maybe even ask AI for some suggestions,
Only to hate THOSE titles even more.

So maybe titles are my nemesis after all.
Or maybe my brain is worn out.

Ashley

One thing I love about your poem is the use of the word nemesis! It instantly brought me to mythology and made me think of how Nemesis is the goddess of justice and you are bringing titles to creative court.

Sheila, Yes, the title is like something the reader is to supposed to uncover — like the theme, message, what resonates. I like leaving it to the reader or it feelsl like I am nudging too much. But here you capture the journey so beautifully, and I feel the hands in the air.

Stefani B

Ha, yes, loving the title defiance poems that have emerged today as well. Sheila, thank you for sharing your truth here:)

Luke Bensing

Great! I love so much about this poem. It’s hard to pick a favorite part, I have about 5

Maureen Y Ingram

Stefani, I remember when you offered this insightful prompt before – and I am as challenged as I was back then. Good titles are a future frontier for me, I think!

I am home from a day of subbing in D.C. preschool…here’s my poem –

she is always missing and i know where 
to find her now
she is standing in serenity and far, far 
away at the sink
she is letting the cool water run through 
her wiggling fingers
she is creating iridescent whirlpools, moving 
her hands like fish
she is softly humming, watching bubbles become 
bigger and bigger, perhaps
she is imagining mermaids dancing
in the sea 
she is able to tune out all of us,
everything 
she is smiling with 
her abandon

i am always thinking about her, 
when evening sets in 
i am washing the day away, remembering
her soft focus
i am wondering where does 
the water take her?

i am wanting to go there, too

——
And here is the title I propose –
a glimpse of what matters most”

Maureen, I really like the “i’s” are lower case throughout. And the italics, which I noticed you used this month. There is such a comfort in the dots over the I’s, like a decentering in the “i am” of it all and in the becoming.

anita ferreri

Maureen, you have captured that little one tuning out the world and finding joy at the sink. SO perfectly part of your day.

Stefani B

Maureen, thank you for this glimpse into your life and sharing your words today. I think the your line about tuning others out is one we can all learn from.

Barbara Edler

Oof, Maureen, what a magical poem. I love the fingers wiggling like fish and your end is a jaw dropper! Lovely poem that radiates a striking image that resonates!

Cheri Mann

When I read the title of Bertoni’s poem and that it had been translated from Spanish, I couldn’t do anything but follow my heart and write this poem to a student of mine who recently tried to take her life. It’s rare that I write poems in Spanish because I don’t have the same depth of vocabulary as in English. But this one feels right regardless.

Para una joven amiga que intentó quitarse la vida

Entiendo, verdad
Realmente entiendo
Porque había una vez
yo era tu
sin ganas de seguir en este mundo
con ganas de salir 

Me recuerdo cuando era. 
Me recuerdo mi plan. 
Pero no me recuerdo la razón
de que quería quitarme la vida
o la razón que no lo hice. 

Imagínate 
que deprimida era yo que 
ni quería estar más. 
Algo tan horrible
que ni siquiera me recuerdo ahora.
Irónica, no? 

Tal vez un día
Escribirás un poema igual,
recordándote ese día 
que tomaste las pastillas. 
Espero que te sientas 
el mismo alivio que yo 
que tú estás viva. 

I understand,truthfully. 
I really understand.
Because once upon a time,
I was you,
with no desire to continue in this world,
wanting to leave.

I remember when it was.
I remember my plan.
But I don’t remember the reason
why I wanted to take my life,
or the reason why I didn’t.

Imagine how depressed I was that
I didn’t want to be here anymore.
Something so horrible that I don’t even remember now.
Ironic, isn’t it?

Maybe one day,
You’ll write a poem like this one,
remembering that day
you took pills.
I hope you feel the same relief I do 
that you’re alive.

Sheila Benson

Chills, Cheri. I have chills. Thank you for writing in two languages. I don’t read Spanish, but the translation sank deep into my heart.

Maureen Y Ingram

Cheri, I am unable to read Spanish – it looks so beautiful in this language, though. I am glad that you offered the English translation. Thank you for this gift from the heart, this precious poem. I have chills from “I don’t remember the reason.” How to help our young ones realize the temporariness of their pain – the forgettability of much of this pain? Oh, it is so sad.

Stefani B

Cheri, I love this so much–the bi-lingual, personal connection, the heart–so powerful. Thank you for sharing this today.

Julie Hoffman (she/her)

I used to ignore the 
red flags 
on the way to your castle,
down the yellow brick road.

Only to find that your 
promise ring
was made of graphite. 

You only offer 
bittersweet watermelon
and dandelions.

I’m half and half 
about your 
field of poppies, 
hearthstone, 
polished stone… 
no gems.

I’m on my way—
away—
searching for a new 
green light. 

(This was a “paint chip poem” that I wrote today with some high school students. We each took twelve paint chips hues, and tried to use the paint names in a poem. This is the one I wrote, and it needs a title.)

Last edited 8 days ago by Julie Hoffman
Stefani B

Chips of advice? or is that too punny? Thank you for sharing what you wrote with your students today.

Leilya Pitre

Julie, I like your chip poem. It’s great to write along with students. i often do it too. I would look at your final stanza for the title – something about searching for a new light. I am wondering about “you” in your poem.

Sheila Benson

I stink at titles (see the poem I submitted for more), but perhaps “road signs”?

Maureen Y Ingram

I really love the words

I’m half and half 

about your 

field of poppies, 



Kim Johnson

Oooh, Julie, I’m feeling strong Wizard of Oz vibes with a sprinkle of The Great Gatsby. Hmmm…….a little L Frank and F Scott…..Baum and Fitzgerald…..Emerald Hues…..I’m not good at titling poems, but I might go with Green Light and use a line from the poem. Love this one!

Love the paint chip poetry work you did with students today! And this poem is so vivid in its poppies and polished stone. I love the dashes, and how the marks feel like paint brushed to me or maybe arms feeling their way to the new green light. Love this.

Last edited 7 days ago by Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)
Susan O

I love to work with paint chip poems and color. Enjoy yours. The watermelons, poppies and dandelions have a nice contrast with the graphite and stones.

Cheri Mann

Wow. I’m impressed with how you wove in all of those different colors. I live the stanza that says “I’m half and half …” as it captures that sense of meh about things that should awe.

Kim

Ooooh! I love paint chip poetry! (But haven’t tackled it with first graders–they haven’t yet lived long enough to know all the cultural references.).

I like Sheila’s suggestion of road signs. My first thought was pitfalls.

Barb Edler

Stefani, I appreciate your prompt and was inspired by its title. Your poem is perfect as a nonet. I see the need to eject and to breathe which flows perfectly to the final Out. Brillaint poem!
I played around with a couple of titles and thought about leaving today’s untitled to have people share what they thought it should be, but in the end, I went with the following poem:

April

there’s no logic
no linear process
no A B C way to gift
one vulnerable bloom

like being in the midst 
of a mad love affair
losing perspective,
your heart

only truth revealed,
ultimately a whole life,
hoping, as you do for beloved children,
forgiveness, kindness, grace

Barb Edler
29 April 2025

Last edited 8 days ago by Barb Edler
Glenda Funk

Barb,
I think you picked the perfect title. I hope many read it and understand its subtext. I’m going to tell you what I think about each verse because I love everything about this poem: April here in this space is not linear or logical. It’s often hierarchical. Yep, the metaphor/simile in the second verse is perfect. Third verse: Why do adults so often do to one another what they’d never do to children and what they don’t let other children do to one another and what they don’t wish on children? Peace and hugs to you, my friend.

Stefani B

Barb, I really enjoyed the line, “A B C way to gift”–what a prompt this would be in the future. Thank you for sharing.

Kim Johnson

I’ve read your poem a few times with the title and each time it gets more and more lovely – – the possibilities of spring and the possibilities of a name and the possiblities of a season of life. So many lovely angles to enjoy this from and each has its own revelations and truths. I like that it can be read in so many ways.

Leilya Pitre

Barb, I if I read your poem without a title, I might have thought of something different. “April” gives me a hint that it is about now and possibly in this community. I read your poem and fell in love with “no A B C way to gift / one vulnerable bloom.” Each of our poems is a vulnerable bloom. I love your ending where you suggest to treat each one (a poem and a poet) “as you do for beloved children” with kindness and grace. Beautifully crafted allegoric poem!

Maureen Y Ingram

This is so deep, Barb – and that title makes it all the more so, I think. Layers of meaning! I am thinking about our poetry month, how we surprise ourselves with what blossoms in these verses … these words took me there,

to gift

one vulnerable bloom

I love and hope, too, for “forgiveness, kindness, grace” with every word I write, and I feel it offered in return.
Such a lovely poem!!

anita ferreri

Barb, your poem captures so much of what I want to try to write in thanksgiving for this powerful and kind group that has shown much kindness and grace. I do feel as if I am drawn to these poems as one would find themselves in a love affair.

Denise Krebs

Ah, Barb, thank you for this gift “one vulnerable bloom” of a poem. I love how a title can point you to a direction that you otherwise wouldn’t have thought of. Your poem is lovely, and I too am “hoping, as you do for beloved children, forgiveness, kindness, grace” Amen!

Fran Haley

Just beautiful, Barb. How we love a linear process…but oh, all the awe and wonder of life come because they are beyond the expected, logical norm…”one vulnerable bloom” is so very important here in this poem. I feel the breathlessness around it. I sense how that vulnerable bloom is tied to “forgiveness, kindness, grace” in the final line, i.e., something very tender and precious, needing to be nurtured, hence – a relationship, even if but human to April flower. This poem sits here, reaching out, with its arms wide open. Just like April 🙂

Glenda Funk

Stefani,
Thank you for hosting. I love the Bertoni poem. I think I’ve read this before but had forgotten it. I never could have guessed the title. Your poem is clever. I love the backslashes. The poem I submitted for the Stafford Challenge anthology uses backslashes. We’re doing lots of deep breathing as we travel around France.

*Name the Title of this Poem.

OK! 👌
there’s storage‼️
gotta figure 
a way to
escape here…
somewhere… 
it fell.
OK! 👌
on the…please‼️
What❓
Denmark❓
we’re going,
Tomorrow. 
Dumar❓
Dumar❓
Dumar left Marsha.
OK!👌
what the ****⁉️⁉️⁉️
why is it doing that
@ the roundabout❓
Dempsey, over there➡️
@ the roundabout.
Dempsey, the destination is 
your round-
about, right❓
there👉
the roundabout ⭕️

Glenda Funk
4-29-25

****************
*Inspiration: lost my phone in the rental car Tuesday but could not find it, so Ken called me. I heard my phone vibrate and realized it had fallen between the driver’s seat and console. Ken let the call go to voicemail, and I used the words from the voice message for my poem. I only added punctuation. and substituted “at” for the symbol. 

Barb Edler

Glenda, I love your poem and how you captured this priceless “traveling” piece. You use emojis brilliantly in this poem, and they work perfectly to share the action and emotion. I particularly loved the lines:

“Dumar left Marsha.
OK!👌
what the ****⁉️

I can just hear the confusion and issues with communicating. I’m not sure what would be the perfect title for this, but it might be “Lost in Translation”.

On a side note, thank you for posting today even while you are overseas on an exciting adventure. Safe travels and I’m glad you found your phone.

Stefani B

Glenda, aside from this, I hope your trip will be amazing. Maybe a title like, “Dumar in the Crack”? or “Smartphone hide and seek”? Thank you for sharing today and safe travels.

Julie Hoffman (she/her)

How about “Signs”?

Leilya Pitre

Glenda, this is a fun poem created from a voice mail. It shows snippets of a fragmented conversation colored by the loss of the phone. The use of the signs makes it more entertaining, but also drives the interpretation for me as a reader. I’d title it “Lost and Found” or “A Roundabout in Snippets”?

Sheila Benson

This is your title: what the ****⁉️⁉️⁉️

Maureen Y Ingram

Glenda, this is such a clever, awesome snapshot of traveling! Thank goodness you realized that phone was gone before you left that driver. I love this so much

Dumar left Marsha.

OK!👌

what the ****⁉️⁉️⁉️

why is it doing that

@ the roundabout❓

It reads like a special, classified code talk!
Enjoy your fabulous travels!

anita ferreri

Glenda, I love your poem and the emojis that really describe the challenges of traveling in a foreign country and being in a different car! You are amazing to do all this traveling and still make time to write and read and be present! You are amazing~

Denise Krebs

Oh, this is hilarious, Glenda. What a great poem idea, and I’m so glad you found your phone! Enjoy this wonderful trip. Maybe “Round and Round”

Stacey Joy

Hi Stef,
This was so fun to think about this morning. I love what you did with your mentor poem. I enjoyed Lucille Clifton’s piece because, at 61, I think I have had some of the same thoughts.

I used AI to find a title but tweaked it a bit. It suggested homecoming but that didn’t work for me.

Homegoing

Earth and man at odds
Burning lands, freezing glaciers
Enemies within.

© Stacey L. Joy, 4/29/25

42925Poem
Glenda Funk

Stacey,
Your poem is 🔥, the excellent kind of fire. And now we have ignorance setting policy, favoring ways to destroy the planet.

Barb Edler

Wow, Stacey! I adore your poem. The title is compelling, but your first line is on fire. Excellent word choices and that “Enemies within” speaks the horrible truth between Earth and man. Brilliant poem!

Stefani B

Stacey, your visual and title both add such fire to your poem! Thank you for sharing your process and poem today.

Leilya Pitre

Stacey, that image works great with your poem. Your title reminded me of Yaa Gyasi’s novel Homegoing, and the poem itself reveals a huge external conflict between a person and a planet. Your haiku is packed with meaning.🔥🔥🔥

anita ferreri

Stacey, Your poem is focused on not taking care of our most basic natural resource. Your title is POWERFUL and perfect

Anna Roseboro

Stacey, you’re a clever words as you are with photography, and now finding just the right graphics to add further depth to well structured and worded poems. I’m appreciative and jealous. 🙂

Kim

Stacey–I love this! Great title and so much packed into three little lines.

Leilya Pitre

Good afternoon, Stefani! Thank you for hosting and beautiful mentor poems. I like your poem and the way is visually represent the idea on incline with italicized “i“s and “out” in the end.
I am teaching all day today and have meetings in-between and after classes, so my offering today is very brief, actually two brief offerings:

On a Feeling That Brings Peace, Joy, and Happiness

Bliss

Of a Feeling That Leaves Me Quietly Joyful

In still morning light,
bliss arrives without a name—
I breathe, and it stays.

I will be responding more to the poems later this evening.

Glenda Funk

Leilya,
I like thinking of these two brief moments as one. Both are lovely.

Barb Edler

Leilya, I enjoyed both your submissions, but my favorite is the second one. That first line “in still morning light” captures a powerful sense of bliss. I love that it stays. Gorgeous poem!

Stefani B

Leilya, I’m loving the blisfful offerings of long titles with short bursts of powerful verse. Thank you for squeezing this in today.

Jamie Langley

Leilya, I love that you have personified the emotion, bliss. Reminds me of Emily Dickinson. Still morning light seems like the perfect opening to bliss. I’m glad that it stays. Just reading your words left me with a feeling of calm.

anita ferreri

Leilya, your brief moments of peace are very much needed today in a world where the news is intense, the prices are climbing, and people are filled with angst, Thank you

Denise Krebs

Leilya, Lovely! I remember the one word poems, where the title does the heavy lifting. I love that about your simple “Bliss” poem. The haiku is beautiful too. “I breathe, and it stays”

Scott M

[Insert Clever Title Here]

the human brain is composed of 86 billion neurons 
forming 100 trillion connections

and a single thought, scientifically speaking,
is but one of the electro-chemical reactions 
fired between these neurons

and I wouldn’t title each individual thought

no more than I would title a single line, a single
blade in Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass

or to put it a different way

I see poems, my poems, as part of something bigger, 
a stanza of a larger work

or maybe poems are like children, perhaps, living 
breathing things that exist in the world without you 
once having been a part of you 

and do you title children?

Yeah, ok, bad example.

Titles might just be a me problem, see, I don’t enjoy
trailers or dust jackets or word-of-mouth recommendations
for the most part for fear of spoilers; I don’t like to be warned 
ahead of time before experiencing the narrative the way the author intended.

My poems are like that, too, or so it seems to me, I don’t want 
to announce that you’re going into the cellar, I want the creaky stairs 
and pull cord with its lone bulb and the smell (that dank smell) that crawls 
up your body seeping into your pores, so essentially, effectively (?) what I’m  
trying to do is Mark Twain it by bringing on the old lady, letting her do all 
the screaming for me

until you realize, or course, that you’re not in the cellar at all, you’ve been in
the kitchen all along, at the breakfast nook, staring at a potted plant, or maybe

the answer to why I don’t usually title my poems is much simpler: titles are hard, 
(at least really artful ones are that work on multiple levels) and I’m, it seems,
inherently, a bit lazy.

____________________________________________

Thank you, Stefani, for your mentor poem and your prompt today and for providing us with the opportunity for pondering our titling habits.  I seem to write far more poems without titles than with them.  Why is that?  My offering today, I guess, tried to answer that question, lol.

Leilya Pitre

Scott, I agree with you titles are hard. Sometimes they come easy, and sometimes nothing sounds right, so I may use the title of the prompt. I read and read your poem twice. Maybe you could name it like philosophers do, something in the lines of “On a Subject of Poems naming,” or more simply “Untitled with Intent,” or with a nod to Whitman “How to Choose a Blade of Grass?” 🙂

Stefani B

Scott, I enjoyed your words of defiance! You expanded on so many reasons to push back against titles, thank you for sharing today.

Julie Hoffman (she/her)

“Doing My Part”
or

“My Stanza on the Topic at Hand”

Last edited 8 days ago by Julie Hoffman
Cheri Mann

I live it. I’ve noticed that most of my poems this month have gone untitled. Perhaps out of laziness or finishing one so late that I just need to get it posted. But it like this idea that they’re not individuals.

Such a clever line about titling children. Ha!

Alyssa Larson

This was the poem that I had wrote for yesterday’s “Showers to Flowers”.

Clouds of sadness in my chest
Heavy and gray, like the winds
My days were filled with grief
Dreams at night of sorrow being gone 

I went about my days
That were filled with heavy gray sadness
Until I met a boy 
Who turned winds into sunshine

He talked about Jesus so open and clear
Took away the pain in my chest and 
Brought a smile to my face
He healed a heart that he didn’t even break 

After putting it in ChatGPT, some of the titles it gave me were:
“The Boy Who Brought the Light”
“Healed by His Light”
“A Heart Not His to Mend”

I do like some of these titles better than the one that I chose to title it yesterday. AI is a helpful tool to use for something like this.

Rita DiCarne

I am drawn to “A Heart Not His to Mend.” I was pleasantly surprised when I asked ChatGPT for titles for one of my poems. I don’t use it very often, but I can see the value of it here.

Leilya Pitre

Hi, Alyssa, sometimes AI comes with some fitting words, but more often they seem to me a bit artificial (the pun wasn’t intended, but it works). I am not quite certain about the title of your poem, maybe something like “A Stranger with a Miracle” or a line from your poem “The One Who Turned Winds into Sunshine,” “A Healer, not a Breaker.”

Stefani B

Alyssa, my vote is for “A heart not his to mend”–has a negative/sassy feel but is the opposite of what the poem’s ending brings us to see. Thank you for sharing.

Straight Lines

a man follows my marching toward the clearing,
his bottle carried low, his eyes even lower.
maybe he finds me interesting though I am not;
there are hundreds of others identical to me.
maybe he wonders why I march so straight,
though he wouldn’t like the reason I follow so close.
maybe I should step out of line just once;
what would he do? might he smile? maybe
he would applaud my performance.
the man rises just before spiral,
moving the neck of his bottle toward me.
i raise my antennae, flash my mandibles
and drink his poison, for I will march no more.

Barb Edler

Sarah, your poem is complex and compelling. I read this both figuratively and literally. Straight Lines is a riveting title, and I like the speaker’s voice considering what would happen if they stepped out of line just once. I adored your line “i raise my antennae, flash my mandibles” because it reveals the speaker, and your end is a jaw-dropper! I feel the pain of not bending to conformity and the toxins that literally and figuratively exist in our world. Phenomenal poem!

Last edited 8 days ago by Barb Edler
Stefani B

Sarah, thank you for taking us on the journey and twisting this metaphor into a small act of insect fate. Fight the big guys!

Leilya Pitre

Sarah, if I saw your poem earlier today, I would use it to teach writer’s voice in one of my classes (instead I used a short one-page folk tale). There is so much about the writer’s craft I could teach: tone (questioning and uncertainty with “maybe”), an allegory and a metaphor (“marching toward the clearing,” and “poison,” “maybe I should step out of line”), understatement ( “maybe he finds me interesting though I am not), and certainly about the message (control, power, resisting conformity). We could also discuss speaker’s perspective and what it does for us readers. Such a rich poem today and a thoughtful title!

Jamie Langley

I love the slowness of your words, a cadence towards your end. Just this morning I mentioned to Collins I want to spray the ants at our front door. I’d never expect my actions captured in poetry. Thanks for connecting me.

anita ferreri

Sarah, I read your poem earlier and my mind was and is still captivated by the rhythm of your words that mirror military format marching; yet, your poem takes me to the lines of ants heading to their demise as they blindly follow their leader, Part of me wants to know, however, if the deeper meaning was really humans deeply following a leader and drinking his poison, Your poem is powerful and complex and I would love to talk about the multiple levels of lines you propose here,

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Stephani, the photo and your prompt reminded me of three favorite poets: Langston Hughes, Paul Lawrence Dunbar, and Maya Angelou, who all wrote on this topic. Thankfully, we’ve made some progress, but we’re not “there” yet, so we keep singing and marching together. And, as I “bragged” in the photo, my family does this: sing, protest, and march. I march across the keyboard, writing about what they’ve done. 🙂 The nonette form visually shows progress, step by step. Thanks for suggesting this format.

“I,
Too sing
America” and more.
“Come open the door!”
For so many years, we had
To stay out.  “Go ‘round back!”
Until we threatened a peaceful attack.
More are in now. Not all are yet
So, “We Shall Overcome” is what I now sing
‘Cause singing helps me stay calm, avoiding the sheriff’s net.

We-Sing-and-Will-Overcome-29-April-2025

Thank you, Anna, for this poem that weaves histories and wishes for presence and futures in “Not all are yet.”

Barb Edler

Anna, I love the way you’ve blended lines from your favorite poets in this riveting piece. I just fear we are slipping backwards not forward. The “Go ’round back!” line is particularly alarming. Keep singing and marching!

Stefani B

Anna, thank you for using this to god you and also mixing in the famous words of other in this advocacy poem.

Stacey Joy

One of my favorite Langston Hughes poems! Wonderful work, Anna.

Leilya Pitre

Anna, I also like the poets you mention. I “discovered” Paul Lawrence Dunbar in about 2012, and since then I use his poems every time I teach anything about poetry. The other two poets are usually more familiar to my students. You weaved in the poem titles seamlessly into this poetic form delivering the message of the huge amount of work done, and more still needs to be done. Thank you!

C.O.

Every time I do it
I overthink.
And then it sucks. 
Sucks for you. 
Sucks for me. 

If my brain
didn’t have time 
to do all
the stupid things
my brain likes to do,
it would probably be better.

I would probably be better.

But I guess that really depends.
What is it?

_____________________________
My “It” and my title, was
trying to write the perfect poem
– when I try too hard it turns out disappointing. When I just spit it out, it’s much more authentic and me.

What “it” did you imagine while reading? Thanks for this prompt where the title leads the way!

Stefani B

CO, thank you for inviting us to think about our “it” and also reminding us there is no perfect poem (or it).

Oh, this is a fun way to think about the reading bias/lived experiences we bring to a text, and I love thinking about a poet writing a poem for anyone, so that anyone can bring their “it” explicitly to the page and be in the poem. Such a beautiful sense of belonging.

Glenda Funk

LOL! I know exactly what you mean and had a discussion w/ my husband about how there’s a thing he likes to do that his brain should not be telling him to do.

Barb Edler

C.O., I feel the same when writing poetry. Sometimes when I work the hardest trying to craft something, it falls short and “sucks”. I love reading poems that share the writing process and expresses human emotions. Thank you!

Kim Johnson

I was thinking of so many things from my own perspective: plan vacation, plan a day trip, figure out how to retire early, all those things…….I like that in the end, it was about writing a perfect poem because that is the universal feeling.

Stacey Joy

C.O., I love how you shared your thinking at the end. I believe my “it” when I read it was “planning the future” because it seems that’s what I’ve done too much of lately.

anita ferreri

CO, I think I knew where you were headed from the very beginning because I often feel like I am not “good enough” to share my words in this forum. I too overthink and question my words and wonder if it is good enough….all that and more. I do, however, find your words today and MANY other days to be both honest and inspiring. Perhaps, you (and me) are our own worst critics?

Kelley

Chat GPT suggested a new title for a poem I’ve been working on for a month or so. Thank you for the suggestion.

Bitsy’s Bright Defiance

At thirty weeks, we were told
 “She might look different;
She likely wouldn’t live a week
If she survived birth.”
How different?
We searched Google
Finding horrid images:
Cyclopy, thin noses dangling from foreheads, cleft lip,  external organs.
We braced ourselves,
Pushed our love down,
Held some back
Knowing we were about to break.
“Ideally, she’ll come by natural birth, uninduced,
 at 38 weeks.
Ideally, she’ll be delivered in the high-risk maternity unit
And receive instant care from the NICU.”
She knew, somehow.
At 38 weeks, labor started naturally.
Within six hours, 
She arrived . . .
A fanfare of ten professionals in attendance on our side
And ten more through the NICU window.
She came with two eyes, one nose where it should be, ten toes, and twelve fingers.
(extra little pinkies which grew nails but didn’t have any bones in them)
She had a cleft palate, but not a cleft lip.
Her heart was okay, 
Her organs stayed inside her body,
Her kidneys were found to be functional, but immature.

Once approved, 
I sterilized and suited up.
I held my granddaughter and looked into her brain:
Both halves visible, gray matter in maze-like structures . . .
“She has severe cutis aplasia. If she lives,
We need to put a synthetic dura over her brain to keep her spinal and brain fluid contained.”
They did, and the skin healed, although the skull never did.
Her ginger curly hair was absent over the scar
Making her look like she had taken the tonsure.
Her dark brown eyes glowed with trust and warmth.
She knew me when I held her during her seven weeks in the NICU.
Her life span prognosis went from a week to a month, to a year . . .
She ate through a tube, 
She seized frequently,
She stiffened with Cerebral Palsy.
She was pronounced deaf and mostly blind.
She missing her olfactory bulb
 (but wrinkled her nose if something smelled bad)
and her cerebellar vermis.

My daughter was fierce.
She sang to her baby, 
despite the doctors repeating,
 “Elisabeth cannot hear you,
So you are singing to yourself.”
She demanded they fit Bitsy for glasses and hearing aids.
The doctors explained it would do no good,
“Those parts of her brain are not functional.”
Again and again, they repeated this,
And finally, fit Bitsy for glasses and hearing aids to prove it.

Bitsy could hear her mother’s voice 
And her vision went from a few inches to twenty feet.
The doctors hadn’t believed, 
But Bitsy’s abnormal brain had its own ideas:
Can’t move well enough to crawl or play?
Barrel roll to the diaper bag,
Empty it triumphantly,
Scatter diapers and wipes over the floor like fallen leaves
Piling them around you
Can’t stand to climb out of the crib?
Push back against the bars until you
Arch like a circus star over the rails, 
Flip in the air,
Land on knees and hands,
And laugh gleefully.
Repeat whenever they are out of the room
Because you can.
Never able to talk?
See the red-headed doll with glasses Grandma gave you,
That Mama gave a wheelchair and hearing aids to,
Now shout repeatedly,  “ME!  ME!  ME!”
While hugging it tightly.
She could say Mama and Guhguh(Daddy) too.
Not bad for missing a palate.

People who didn’t know her told me:
She’s in pain
She’s miserable
She should be allowed to die
Stop prolonging her life.
Just give her comfort care.
Replying kindly was a challenge.
But those of us who knew her–
despite initially wanting to hold back Part of our hearts– 
Knew she was happy,
Knew she gave joy
Knew she shone light.
We were blessed by her determination
 to live
And share
And experience
 all she could
For five and a half years.

In the end
Covid stilled her organs,
But Bitsy won our hearts.
I miss you, Little One.

Angie Braaten

Wow, what a girl. “Bitsy could hear her mother’s voice” I broke here. And then when you say her brain had its own ideas and describe things she chose to do ‘because she could’. And the doll!!! Thank you for sharing Bitsy’s story with us. 🙏🏼

brcrandall

Phew, Kelley, this is a poem. An experience. A window into a world we rarely see. And you honestly wrote with compassion, love, respect, and a similar determination as those who fought as hard as they did. I’m blown away by this tribute.

Stefani B

Oh, Kelley, thank you so much for sharing the beauty of Bitsy with us today. I appreciate learning about you and Bitsy in this form.

Susan Ahlbrand

Kelley,
Thank you for honoring us by sharing Bitsy with us. I was totally captivated by this little girl’s defiance. Your tribute to her keeps her alive in everyone’s hearts who have read this!

Ann E. Burg

Bitsy won more hearts today. You have captured her spirit and your family’s love in raw beauty. Thank you for sharing this. 💕

Leilya Pitre

Kelley, thank you for sharing this story and Bitsy with us. Such a resilient little heart! Peace to you and yours ❤️🙏

anita ferreri

Kelley, I’ve read your poem several times and find my grandma-heart filled with joy that Bitsy was born and blessed you lives as well as broken for her loss to a virus after she demonstrated real grit and the power of the human spirit. MY life is richer for you sharing your Bitsy here.

anita ferreri

Stefani,
You poem is a powerful statement in both its format and its words. I had written a poem yesterday about driving past my grandparents house this weekend and revisited/revised it today asking AI for help both in format and in titling. “Gemini” had good suggestions for shortening my original poem but I did not like any of the titles (even though I did decide to use one)
Thanks for sending me out of my comfort zone.

Memories Take Root

I started at the house
Still on the corner,
Without its front porch?
No rambling butterfly bushes? 
Now purple with florescent green trim?
Looking so different, so sad.

“Keep moving,
I said, wistfully,
Thinking about the newlyweds
Building new memories
From seeds planted long ago.
As I turned my car towards home,
Where my crisp white porch, 
Lots of pots, and a packet of seeds,
Were waiting for me.

Angie Braaten

Aww I’ve driven past my childhood home a few times although I don’t live in the same state or even country anymore. The only weird thing is that everytime I go back, the road, houses, everything look smaller than what I always imagine. I love how much this says about the kind of home you like and I love these lines: “Building new memories
From seeds planted long ago.”

Susan O

My childhood home has not changed much since I left in 1966. I actually got brave enough to knock on the door and had an inside tour. Interesting enough, the new owners were restoring back to the original design of pre WWII.
Your poem in lovely, Anita.

krishboodhram

I love this idea of how we can keep “Building new memories/From seeds planted long ago”. This tells me how we need to tender the present with so much care and attention.

Kelley

It’s so hard seeing how homes change when our memories are there but we are gone. You captured it beautifully. I think the packet of seeds at the end waiting for you really captures how you are crafting your new home to be part of you. Nicely framed.

Stefani B

Anita, I love the metaphor of seeds and newlyweds. Thank you for going out of your comfort zone, playing with tech, and sharing here.

I love so much about this poem. There is such patience in the waiting and the persistence in “keep moving’ and the “building” — and with that patience, I feel faith.

Dave Wooley

Anita,

I am serially sentimental, too. Places are so rooted in memory. I love how you’ve captured the changes to the house and the way it can make you feel a bit of a break with the question marks. And ending with the seeds waiting is such an apt metaphor to end with.

Glenda Funk

Anita,
Theres such a sense of loss in the first part of your poem. I’d be sad to see
Now purple with florescent green trim?”
on amy house, especially one full of memories, yet there’s healing here, too, in the planting and growing awaiting you.

Barb Edler

Anita, I enjoy the way you crafted your poem to show your grandparents’ house. The second stanza is heart wrenching. I know that desire to want to stop at an old home, but that is realistically awkward and difficult to do. The packet of seeds waiting is precious. Gorgeous poem full of love and authenticity.

Jamie Langley

Anita, I love the story behind the poem. Sharing what’s missing – front porch, rambling butterfly bushes. Wistful holds your feeling – clearly missing what was. And I love your ending – feels like you are trying to recreate a bit of the home’s memory at your home – crisp white porch, pots and seeds. I wish you happy growing.

Stacey Joy

Anita,
Hi, I can relate to your poem and the experience well. I hate visiting my childhood street because the beautiful memories we created were taken away when my stepfather lost the home after my mom passed away. I really appreciated this sense of urgency:

“Keep moving,

I said, wistfully,

And yes, plant your seeds and watch how quickly your roots take hold.

Ann E. Burg

Stefani ~ I had not read Bertoni’s poem and thinking the poem was a love poem (which of course it is), finding out the actual title caught my heart in my throat. Since my editor always changes my titles, I’ve gotten out of the practice of giving titles to anything I write. Now you’ve reminded me how important a title can be. I needed your positive flow of air today as demonstrated by my simple cinquain. The title follows the poem,

Wicked. 
You are wicked—
You spoiled my morning, 
You used me though you knew my fears.
Leave now.

To the Tick Clinging to My Neck

Martha KS Patrick

Wow! I had no idea what was coming in the title.

Stefani B

Ann, great idea to move the title to the bottom and trick us this way. Thank you for sharing.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Yikes! I didn’t expect that coming (lots of guesses but none was an insect). They are sneaky little buggers, which is why not knowing the title to the end works so perfectly! (My dad had one under his eyelid one time–I just can’t even).

Ann E. Burg

Omg! Under his eyelid? I can’t even either.

Leilya Pitre

Ann, I would never guessed your “wicked” is the tick. Creatively crafted!

Scott M

Ann, I, too, was surprised by your title, not guessing the tick was going to be the culprit. And it somehow makes it worse knowing that the tick was conniving (word?) enough to exploit your fears! Thanks for this!

moonc

Poem Tree

Shelter me, Poem Tree,
Shower me, with sympathy,
Empower me, with empathy,
Enlighten me, with poetry.

As I hold your limb,
Hold my hand,
Grace through Grim,,
Help me understand.

This life of mine,
Wrapping us in rhymes,
Cling to me, as I climb,
Upon your branches until I find….
 
A nest full of bliss,
Upon your Crest, I’ll kiss,
The stanzas others miss,
Embedded in our abyss,
Freed, we cannot resist,
This bond, leaf to fist,
Manifesting artistic mist,
Exposed on a papyrus list.

Hold me still, Hold me light,
I’ll use your wood, as I write.
I’ll protect you and hug you tight,
Even close, close tonight.

Your bark etches my thoughts,
Within your shade I walk,
Deep in your roots, wisdom is sought,
Winds whisper words to be taught.
I will cling to your stem,
                        We shall never part………

Grace through Grim,
                                Creatively,
                                                       
    I carve two hearts.
:Boxer

Stefani B

Boxer, wow, this holds so much wisdom and imagery. Thank you for sharing.

Susan O

Grace through Grim says it all. So often I have turned to this group and writing my grim thoughts into poetry and it heals. I like the idea of the tree and wood.

Kasey D.

I love the myriad of fairytale images. I am reminded of Blake and oddly R. R. Martin. I love “grace through Grim,” As always your style is a breath of fresh air. Thank you for sharing.

Angie Braaten

Hi Stefani, I’ve shared this poem with some students since you first introduced me to it. And I’ve looked back at it many, many times. It’s on my list of favorites. Thanks for the title reminder. This Verselove I’ve actually been titling most of my poems. I like your addition of italics to “In”.

Recently, a student introduced me to a song called We’ll Never Have Sexby Leith Ross. It was for a blog assignment she wrote about song lyrics that were very important to her. I invite you all to watch the video and share with me your experience. Mine was that I read the story in the video at first then listened again to the lyrics. Speaking of titles, I immediately thought of this song because based on the title I thought the song was going to be about a bad breakup. To my surprise it was something so much more amazing.

The poem I created is based on words from the comment section of this video, some of the song lyrics, a line from the subtitles in the video story, and some phrases from my student’s blog. I have a title in mind that I would give but I invite others to share their ideas before I share mine 🙂 

hypersexualized
traumatized
objectified
polluted
anxious  
used
toxic

it shouldn’t have to be difficult 
it can be simple

a hug could be just a hug

transcending
the physical 

beyond intimacy 
only presence 

bond rooted 
in closeness

pure
gentle
healing
blessed
innocent
comforting
wholesome
platonic love

Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me
the best thing that ever happened to me.

anita ferreri

Angie, WOW. It is very challenging to be growing up or dating at any age in this era of increased sensitivity and awareness of all physical interactions. Your last stanza, reminds us that sometimes there really is no ulterior motive. Well done

Mo Daley

WOw. I wasn’t familiar with this song at all. I’m so impressed that a student brought it to your attention. Your poem is lovely and true, very much like the song itself. THe title “We WIll Never Have Sex” is so strong- I’m struggling to come up with a similarly powerful title for your poem The best I have right now is “Transcendence.”

Angie Braaten

wish you could see my notes history because that’s the first title I gave. Then I moved transcend into the poem and chose a different title 😉

Stefani B

Angie, thank you for sharing this additional resource and connection. Your poem bridges a lot of emotions and the use of “polluted” is extremely powerful.

krishboodhram

Angie, my take on this is that love is such a precious gift given to us. And everyone has the right to feel pure love that “transcends the physical”. This feeling should not be a fleeting experience and a permanent state. My title would be “The Right to Love”.

Kim Johnson

Angie, when I look at this as a concrete (shape) poem, I see a person with arms outstretched for a hug. Wow!!!

Angie Braaten

So perceptive Kim! Thank you for pointing it out 🤗

Angie Braaten

I would title it Changed

Rita DiCarne

Stefani, thank you for drawing attention to titles. I admit that I don’t always give much attention to my titles. I used ChatGPT to generate possible titles for a poem I wrote earlier this month. The titles generated in my search were so much better, and each put a new spin on the poem. I will definitely spending more time on titles moving forward.

Original Title – Catalogue of Aging
ChatGPT Title – Aging in Place

The House
The Residents
A new furnace & heat pump to warm in winter and cool in summer.
Sometimes we’re too warm, and sometimes we’re too hot.
New deck flooring because tripping and falling would be a bummer.
Goodbye strappy sandals, hello Kizik slip-ons – all in the name of safety.
A tar driveway with cracks and patches
Age spots and crinkles on once-smooth young skin.
New windows to keep out the breeze and batten the hatches.
A favorite blanket to keep us warm while watching TV
An older roof with some curling shingles
Older feet with some curled toes.

anita ferreri

Rita, I too often title as an afterthought rathe than a lead; yet, today, I did not find any of the titles that came up on Gemini to be good ones. SO, after reading your post, I tried Chat Gpt . Amazing, they were the same! Sometimes it is helpful but sometimes the BOT just is not on the same page as the author.

Mo Daley

Rita, I read your poem with the sound of a drill whirring behind me. We are putting in a new staircase. Throughout the years a few people have slipped or stumbled on them. I recently inspected and measured them carefully and found they were wildly out of safety standards, so since we seem to be aging in our place, we decided to put in a new staircase. I truly appreciate how your poem acknowledges the aging process. I also love how you’ve used bold type to almost create a two speaker poem. Nicely done!

Stefani B

Rita, I am definitely feeling that your original title was perfect! The bold is also powerful and thank you for sharing.

Susan O

I went to ChatGPT for a title. This one works for a poem I wrote three year ago. Thanks, Stefani, for motivating me to think about titles.

Arranging Joy

snipping stems
puling off the dead leaves
dividing species and placing them 
into containers with prices

arranging the colors 
and sizes
into presentations
of tribute

weddings,
birthdays,
romance
and funerals

do you realize what joy you give
to those accepting your boquets?
If everyone enjoying your flowers 
would thank you,
you would be standing in a pile of gratitude.

Angie Braaten

I love that last stanza Susan. I was honored to make the flower arrangements for my father/stepmom’s wedding. It’s the only time I really put flowers together and she always talks about how much she loved them. It was quite easy even though I’m not big on flowers.

I actually like Joy Arranger instead of Arranging Joy.

anita ferreri

Susan, your poem is lovely -specially that last line about a pile of gratitude. I like your title, but in reality it is your poem I will remember.

Kelley

Arranging joy and being a florist, whether professional or not, do seem to be synonymous–something I wouldn’t have noticed without your poem. Thank you.

Stefani B

Susan, I love that you revisted a poem from 3 years…that alone is a way to engage in joy! Thank you for sharing.

Susan Ahlbrand

So many wonderful options for this prompt, and what AI can add to this is astounding!

I wrote this poem in March based on a post sharing “Hercules” by Simon Armitage

After not doing the dishes 
or taking the stack of books upstairs 
After not folding the laundry
or hanging up my clothes piled on the cedar chest 
After not sweeping up the dead leaves from the patio 
or pulling the weeds from landscaping 
After not going through the lifetime of remnants in the attic 
or hauling things to Vinnys
my exhausted mind and body 
fell to the couch to nap. 

I ran it through Chat GPT and got a number of options. CLICK HERE to go to a Google Form to vote for the title you feel best fits.

IMG_3686
Angie Braaten

Okay, okay I played. I think this is one of your poems that I might not have read. And I love anaphora!!

Susan Ahlbrand

You indeed have not read it! I’m doing the Stafford Challenge where I am writing one every day, so this is one I haven’t posted.

Mo Daley

You had me at the first line, Susan. I’m not sure what’s happening lately, but I feel like I could have written so many of our VerseLove poems myself- they are so relatable! The ChatGPT list is really good. Can’t wait to see the results. Your survery is a great way to approach titling your poem.

Stefani B

Voted and look forward to the winner. I like how you added this for us to vote today!

Kelley

I voted. I hope you tell us which one won. I know how it feels to be tired and have nothing finished. It is too frequently my mindset. Yet I’m sure I did something . . . the negative statements are so powerful… after not being repeated is especially engaging.

Alyssa Larson

I also had ran my poem through ChatGPT and got a bunch of options for a title. I really liked how it gave different options that all had the same meaning but just worded different. I also like you are allowing us to vote on the title that best fits!

Martha KS Patrick

Susan, thank you for sharing your poem as well as Simon Armitage’s. I liked the pairings in your “after not” and then “or” lines.

The Google Form was fun too. Eager to see what we all liked best for a found title.

Kim Johnson

I’m going to The Google to vote. I love this – – I, too, could crash and nap without a care.

Susan Ahlbrand

There is currently a three-way tie!

Susan Ahlbrand

I am heading to bed, so it’s going to have to end in a three-way tie . . .
1) “The Weight of Unfinished Things”
2) “Checklist: Ignored”
3) “After Not” . . . which happens to be the title I gave it, NOT an AI title.

Angie Braaten

YES!!! I picked the human one!!! 🥳

Scott M

Susan, I really enjoyed your poem — and Vinny can wait until after you take a nap! And thanks for sharing “Hercules.” I don’t think I had read that before. And my heart nearly stopped when I googled “stafford poetry challenge”!! A whole year! Ohmygod. I can barely make it through April, lol, I can’t imagine one a day for a year. Good luck to you!

krishboodhram

Stefani,
Your prompt really got me thinking about how a different title for the same poem can change how we interpret it. Today I started with the title “Time after time” and I thought that a suitable poetic form to craft a poem is the ghazal. Here is one still in its crude form.

Time after Time 

The clouds from above showered sweet moments sublime. 
Together we reveled in the impossible feat of stopping time 

In unfathomable depth an oyster creates a pearl in nacred agony 
Out of a naive hope we wove dreams we thought would defeat time. 

The sweet-scented rose when folded in a bud feels safe
When unfurled is at the mercy of the wind silently biding his time. 

Into late night random words floated and came together to fill the pages of  our story
A story, our story, which we thought posterity would repeat time after time. 

Happiness is stubbornly silent but sadness sings a sweet painful melody 
Today is but fictionalized yesterday as I stare into the merciless abyss of time.  

Angie Braaten

I thought about trying a ghazal the other day for the peace prompt but went with a pantoum. This line: “Today is but fictionalized yesterday as I stare into the merciless abyss of time.” Wow. That word abyss usually gets me. Definitely here! Thanks for sharing.

Stefani B

Your use of “nacred agony” is a powerful combo along with the repetition of “time.” Thank you for writing today.

Anna Roseboro

At first, Kim would think this would be a sad poem. Instead, it seems to be about persistence
My favorite line is
Happiness is stubbornly silent, but sadness sings a sweet painful melody

The apparent dichotomy is neutralized in the closing line

Today is but factionalized yesterday as I stare into the merciless of time

We can’t stop time, so we may as deal!

Mo Daley

When I am 78 years old
and struggle with walking and talking at the same time
and can’t stay awake during the day
and rant incoherently all night long
and hate Taylor Swift
and lie about my weight so you think I’m healthy
and when I lose my words (if I ever really had them)
and use old-fashioned words like
‘a bag with different things in it’
and believe people are eating cats and dogs,
maybe it’s time to put me in a home,
not a House

By Mo Daley 4/29/25

Sharon Roy

Oh my, Mo. This took my breath away. Would that poets were in charge of our world.

Angie Braaten

Wow what an end. I think the title should be ‘a bag with different things in it’. Gosh I feel like that’s all I say sometimes! I love how you call them “old-fashioned words” – good ‘ol words!

Stefani B

Mo, the description and use of “a bag…in it” is somehow so disheartening and yet tells so much. Thank you for sharing today.

Kelley

I keep trying to see people as people not problems, but some are hard to see as human. You have humanized the person in question, in a way I had not thought possible.

Susan Ahlbrand

Oh, Mo! This is so powerful! It seems as if I’m surrounded by real people and fictional stories both about dementia and the conflict with what to do with the challenges of people who have been afflicted. Those last two lines…

Glenda Funk

Mo,
I was about to tell you that you won’t be like that at 78, but now I see you’re talking about one specific 78 year-old. Love all of it, especially “it’s time to put [him] in a home,
not a House

Barb Edler

Mo, oof, I feel the same. You have so many delightful lines in this one. Very relatable and I laughed out loud when reading “and believe people are eating cats and dogs,” Powerful and clever poem.

brcrandall

What I love about daily prompts, is you never know where the mind, fingers, and words will go. Love the use of / in the poem, Stefani (or is it an italic capital “I”)? The last line with ‘Out’ is a tremendous punch at the end (stylistically and rhythmically).

Just Another Untitled Brat

Geek-boy,
Frog-face,
Seahorse,
dork.
Bryan,
I suppose…
originally brought by
a stork.

Believe it or not, 
a Ripley, pull my finger
& find out.
Tar-maker
Prudence. Reuben
Crandall, what I’m about.

Douchebag,
colleague
Dr., if you dare,
father-man,
forever 15,
who needs 
new underwear.

Moron, 
imbecile,
in KY I was BRINE.
brother, nephew.
an Aquarian valentine.

Grampy, director,
A-hole on I-95.
It doesn’t matter
what you call me
cuz for now
I’m still alive.

Last edited 8 days ago by brcrandall
Angie Braaten

I like “BRINE” most – I think my dad says Bryan like that. Becoming monosyllabic! I give you prize for best title.

Ann E. Burg

Ah Bryan… your poetry always makes me smile though there were a few names I can’t imagine anyone calling you, I’m also glad you’re still alive!

moonc

Hell Yeah!!! Love it

Stefani B

Bryan, did you just create a new poetry genre–maybe, self-depricative verse? Your title is also fun, thank you for sharing!

Susan Ahlbrand

Bryan,
This is so fantastic! You characterize yourself in so many different ways ,showing keen insight to self. I think the title you provide is quirky and perfect!

Glenda Funk

Bryan,
Make this a blackout poem and take out the meanish name calling. Aren’t we all still 15 in some ways, all in need? Anywho, you threw off those childish things, except maybe needing g to shop, which leads to my favorite parts: the rhyme, the reinventing of identity, and the last lines:
“It doesn’t matter
what you call me
cuz for now
I’m still alive.”
Amen!

Kim Johnson

1) Everyone is an A-Hole on I-95, so no sweat.
2) Pull my finger – – Bwahahahaha
3) BRINE – I’m laughing so hard because my friend Jennifer from Paris, Tennessee calls her husband BRINE. Now while your name is spelled with a Y, imagine her reaction when they got one of those personalized neon name plates at a Florida souvenir shop and the finished product said “Brain and Jennifer.” (We laughed because she was the brain of the pair).
Love it, love it, love it! Your title rocks all the possibilities.

Sharon Roy

Stefani,

Thanks for hosting and pushing is to think about titles. I often leave my poems untitled, and your prompt and mentor texts pushes me to spend a little time think about titling them.

I love the title of your lesson:

Holding Hands with Poetry

I might return to it later as the prompt and title of a poem.

I love the force of your title

Press Eject

coupled with your italics.

Your poem was just what I needed this morning to remind me not to get stuck on an upcoming stressful situation.

I ran my poem from Sunday about peace through ChatGPT, asking for a title. I’m going to use one of the seven it offered. Then, I wrote a haiku using two of the titles it offered — both of which were lines from my poem—and then adding a middle line and title.

——————————————————-

Grief

clear runway of twigs
stuck, stymied, then migrating
the balm of birding

———————————————————

Clear Runway of Twigs

it’s been a hard year
for me
for my family
for my community
for my candidate
for my country

grieved
concussed
sprained
sidelined

I’ve sought solace
in the yellow bobbing 
behind the leaves

today a white-tailed kite
kited across the sky

a painted bunting 
sat still atop
the tallest tree
for all to see

a Cape May Warbler
arrived safely in Galveston
after three days of nonstop
migratory flight
to walk a clear runway of twigs
in front of a flock
of joyous birders

a white morph reddish egret
stood on the shore
showing its neatly bisected
pink and black beak

a common nighthawk
fluttered, soared and dove

a pair of fulvous whistling ducks
floated besides their black bellied counterparts
making clear the differences in plumage and size

snowy egrets turned silly 
atop their nests
sounding like a dad
blowing a raspberry
on a baby’s belly

thank goodness 
for the balm 
of birding

Angie Braaten

sounding like a dad
blowing a raspberry
on a baby’s belly”

what a great simile for a bird sound. I will have to listen to bird sounds and try to create similes like this.


Mo Daley

What a smart approach, Sharon. As I said the other day, I love the line “the balm of birding.” I’m glasd you chose to use it again.I can’t resist a good haiku. Yours is lovely.

Kelley

snowy egrets turned silly 
atop their nests
sounding like a dad
blowing a raspberry
on a baby’s belly
I got here and thought silly egrets? Then the simile of a dad blowing a raspberry . . . oh my goodness. This is perfect!

Stefani B

Sharon, your post today is a great example of the myriad ways a single prompt can go. Thank you for sharing your words and your process.

Kim Johnson

I like the idea of running previous poems through Chat GPT for title suggestions. It looks like you got a new pathway, too – – all the more excitement to have more ideas.

Jamie Langley

I love the haiku created by two of the titles created by ChatGPT. An original use for the tool. The idea that migrating can get you unstuck is a bit of hope. Is the hope birds offer us the balm?

Najma Masood

If I Were a Plant in Your Vase

If I were a plant in your vase,
I’d smile each time I saw your face.
I’d grow with love, so soft and true
Just happy to be close to you

I wouldn’t need the sun or rain,
Your gentle voice would ease my pain.
No garden could be more divine,
Than living near your heart and shine.

Najma Masood.

brcrandall

Najma, I like the way the ‘v’ made its way in your poem today, with vase, love, voice, and divine. I read it a couple of times to enjoy the sound this choice of words made to bring music to the poem.

Najma Masood

Hy Brcrandall.

I am very happy that you took the time to read my poem and respond to it.

Mo Daley

Najma, this poem begs to be read aloud. The sounds are sweetly captivating. I like the idea that someone has a shine.

Najma Masood

Mo Daley.
Thanks a lot.

Stefani B

Najma, the title had me pondering the mulit-layered meanings before reading on. This is so sweet and complex, thank you for sharing.

Alyssa Larson

I really enjoyed reading this poem and I thought that I was a very powerful poem. It way it flows just set the mood!

Anna Roseboro

Mamma, it’s not clear if this is about something sad or glad? Is the speaker sad that this relationship has not yet occurred, or glad the person has a memory of such a warm relationship. It doesn’t matter, because the poem speaks to me of both. The sad of times as a preteen I felt left out, but then as an adult recalling the multiple times I spent extended time with my grandparents. Thanks for the truthful memories.

Dave Wooley

Stefani,
I really appreciate the focus on titles. Especially writing as we do in this space, titles can become an afterthought, but a focus on title can, as you said, create whole new layers of meaning. I love what you did with your poem, the in and out of breathing and the clever title! Usually I’m writing with the late poets, but here I am, writing with the early poets today (I see you, Kevin!). This whole, well, everything, has me feeling adrift, so that informed my title of looking for a fixed point to pin things down a bit.

Fixed Point

Sometimes I feel like the words wandering.
Off the page. I’ve become unmoored.
Searching for a beginning or an ending, but.
Just the uncertainty of what lies.
Beyond the margins, is it?
A fall. An emptiness. Another blank page.
I don’t know. Who to ask. I turn to you and.
Raise my finger, identifying. Accusing.
Hoping for an answer. Looking.
In the mirror.

Sharon Roy

Dave,

I like the contrast between the

Fixed Point

of your title and the unfortunately relatable sense of profound uncertainty.

You surprised me at the end.

I don’t know. Who to ask. I turn to you and.

Raise my finger, identifying. Accusing.

Hoping for an answer. Looking.

In the mirror.

As I read your poem, the meaning of your title changed from a desire for a fixed point to a recognition that we are the fixed point in our lives. Well done!

brcrandall

Dave, loving the “I’ve become unmoored. / Searching for a beginning or an ending” line…also the twist in the mirror, too. I almost see this poem as a drawing that could be sketched into a notepad, too.

Angie Braaten

Your adrift feeling comes through well in the sharp ends of thoughts in your lines. The one word sentences. I like that your title represents what you are searching for.

Stefani B

Dave, glad you joined early and thank you for sharing. The use of “but.” with the stop point is powerful in your formatting and for your verse.

Barb Edler

Dave, I love this poem and how you move from the opening to the final line which makes the title so much clearer.

Margaret Simon

Stefani, I have not been focusing much on titles this verselove. Thanks for the reminder. I like how you italicized the I to help us feel the exhale viscerally. I need to hit eject. We are now in the midst of state testing which in itself is a deep inhale. I’m ready for the exhale.

I went back a few days to a poem I wrote about the color red. I had titled it “Ode to Red.” ChatGPT had a better idea: “Waking in Red.” I like it. I’d also like to work on this one a little more. Thanks for the inspiration.

Angie Braaten

Well I am just here to say I loved “Ode to Red” because the two words are very related and the sound is just great.

Stefani B

Margaret, do we need hit eject every day?? Probably, and good luck with testing;)

Kim Johnson

Margaret, the exhale is coming……a nice one!

Fran Haley

Stefani, I remember Bertoni’s poem from before – in that it captivated me, even before the title reveal totally took my breath, and in fact, all the air out of the room. What a profound shift it makes, that title. A whole new lens, one that sears the soul. I recall learning that a poet should “make the title do more work” and sometimes that’s the single hardest part of poetry-writing for me: settling on a title. All this to say – what a great exercise today! Your nonet is another example of the power of a title – ending with Incline out – eject, indeed. I had a sense of inhaling deeply and letting it go with force – but with energy, as if taking in the good to release the bad. An effect sparked in so few words – with the title playing its vital role! As for me…images came first, so I went with them. I will reveal my title at the end. Thank you so much for today’s adventure 🙂

First, consider the pattern:
Unfold it, spread it out
smooth the wrinkles.
Ask: Will it even work 
with this fabric?
Before you ever pin
pattern to material,
before you ever start
cutting with those
knife-edged shears, 
envision the way
these random pieces
before you
will come together
as a whole:
Are the flowers all turned
rightside up?
Does the striping meet?
Is the grain all going
In the same direction?
If not, rearrange
and reconsider.
Once in a while
you’ll have to decide
which is more important,
pattern or material,
and make an exchange
so the thing will
come together in an
aesthetically pleasing
not-haphazard way
for people to 
understand
when they see you in it
that you’re not a
deranged carnival act
but a true artisan
painstakingly stitching
bits of your
very essence
into every piece
(using, of course, the
thread color of 
your choosing…
that can always be
your little secret).

*******

Title reveal…drumroll…

Crafting the Poem

C.O.

Cute turn to poetry in the title. I was thinking “in stitches” but love the nod to writing as more. Thanks for the fun. Maybe I’ll copy that reveal style for mine today.

Linda Mitchell

Sewing Secrets

I love all the internal thought of what someone else should do which really tells about the speaker. Such a great way to spin a poem.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Fran, this reminds me that the creative process really has no one way and that we often work in reverse or start in the midst of it all. The slow reveal here, all the careful planning, reconsidering, making do, choosing between (pattern and material), is all the sweeter because we tend to just see the final version without knowing what was behind it. I love the little secret at the end!

brcrandall

The dog is using my shoulders as a bed this morning (and this aging spine is not thrilled). Loving the column-esque style of the poem, the needling in and out of patterns with a rhythm that is very much like stitching…which you make your own very well, Fran.

Angie Braaten

I knew it had something to do with a poem! Your metaphorical lines are beautiful. Some of yall can do all that in 20 minutes. It takes me hours. Oh well, it’s worth it sometimes!

Ann E. Burg

I do love this poem that you’ve crafted so beautifully. You pulled my heart-threads when you noted that people will know your not a deranged carnival act/but a true artisan/painfully stitching/bits of your/very essence into every piece. Really beautiful.

Stefani B

Fran, love how you took us on a journey of crafting a poem with a twist at the end. Maybe we need a collection of poems about poetry as our next group collection!

Barb Edler

Fran, your poem moves rapidly along, and I was a bit surprised by your title, but it totally makes sense once you share it. Crafting the poem is dizzying! Love the artistry you continually craft through your form and word choices!

Kim Johnson

Ah, Fran – – with your theater background I was ready for a character to step out onto center stage, and surprise!!! It’s a poem being crafted, line by line, stitch by stitch, word by word. Brilliant, and I like how you held us in suspense until the end. A showstopper!

Kim Johnson

Stefani, thank you for hosting us today and putting focus on titles of poems. I know I don’t spend enough time on that part, so thank you for spotlighting it today. Love your “Press Eject” title. How many times a day I wish I could do just that! I’ve written an etheree and invite title suggestions.

I learned to ride a bike at the corner
of Friar Tuck and Robin Hood Roads
next door to Doc and Mama Byrd
in Reynolds, Georgia at five
cradled by Coventry
and Sherwood Roads, steeped
in peach orchards
Baptist church
and skint
knees

C.O.

I am thinking Christening as a multi meaning experience and beginning here. I like the listing of the intersections of all these places.

Fran Haley

Kim, you are on a wild etheree streak! Powerful images and SO MUCH to work with re: a title. Right now something with Freewheeling or Wild Rider comes to mind. I will have to think on this…now, Spitfire…still mulling… 🙂

Linda Mitchell

That word, “skint,” I love it. As for a title? What about, ‘Learning to Ride?’

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

What a magical childhood all of these names evoke. I love the verbs you’ve chosen here: cradled, steeped. And the word skint. Somehow that says so much. I’m thinking In the Hood to evoke childhood and neighborhood.

brcrandall

Nice move with the ‘skint / knees.’ Love the personal, vivid recollection of the place and space, too.

Sharon Roy

Kim,

ChatGPT suggests “Sherwood Lessons.”

I like how your poem evokes such a specific sense of place , but also the universal experiences of learning to ride a bike

and skint

knees

Your street names give me a sense of wonder.

Love the phrase

cradled by Coventry

I’m a fan of using a line from the poem as a title and

Craded by Coventry

or

Skint Knees

would both be fantastic choices.

Angie Braaten

I’ve never been good with titles. I feel like other always came up with better ideas but I love the characters in the street names and that along with learning and the uniqueness of this poem made me think of “Novelty” 🙂

Stefani B

Kim, my first thought is “mapped pedals,” but there are so many possibilities already mentioned. Thank you for inviting us to title this today.

Glenda Funk

Kim,
The title of your poem is My Sweet Georgia Girlhood. You know I always title my poems. I forgot to mention why in my note to Stefani.

Barb Edler

Love that ending “and skint/knees”! Sounds colloquial! The title of your roads as such a delightful level to your poem. I want to be there with you, riding bikes and creating our own Sherwood Forest!

Last edited 8 days ago by Barb Edler
Julie Hoffman (she/her)

Pedaling
No Brakes
Over the Handlebars

No matter the title, I love the imagery. Though I did not learn to ride my bike at the same corner, I feel like I was there with you.

Last edited 8 days ago by Julie Hoffman
Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Stefani, thank you for giving us so many directions to possibly follow. I spent far too long exploring so my poem is short today. Love the title of your poem and all those in’s.

Everything I Thought I Knew

Life lasts forever
When young eyes look forward
And tiny hands reach up
The end is nowhere in sight

C.O.

This title has some oomf at the possibility that those things didn’t happen. Some pain behind that. Thanks for the short and sweet, sometimes those are the best.

Fran Haley

Whoa, Jennifer – isn’t this the truth. in the beginning there is no end. Then, somewhere midway to the end, when the grandkids come…those tiny hands stop time, do they not?? Oh how you have my mind going in every direction, with what “I thought I knew!” Life itself is a title reveal, lol.

brcrandall

Jennifer, such a concise-time piece…the tiny hands reaching up, the endlessness of it. Nice.

Ann E. Burg

Jennifer, after being steeped in loss for the past few weeks, this poem made me cry. I so love the young eyes looking forward, the tiny hands reaching up…short, but sweet. So very, very sweet. Thank you!

Stefani B

Jennifer, I feel like your title could be filled with endless stanzas. Thank you for sharing today.

Kim Johnson

Jennifer, the short form with a big title works like magic here – – the certainty of the universe is changed with one word: thought…….and yet, life is short, eyes turn, hands age, and all good things must end…….this title says it all and the poem in its brevity holds all the emotion of the universe right there.

Linda Mitchell

Good Morning Poets,
I’m all shivery happy with verselove this year. It’s amazing to see how many poem drafts have piled up in my files. I’ve so enjoyed writing along side of you.

Stefani, this is a nifty prompt. I liked playing around with it. Chat GPT titled the poem draft below as, ‘The Unmooring.’ I titled it, Forgiveness. I wonder which verselove folks like more…or if they would suggest even another title. Go for it!

Here’s a poem
I never wrote about
how I untied a boat that held
all our sadness from the dock.
I dropped the her lines
into the dark water
watched the current carry our craft out–
out further
and a little further still until
that sadness boat drifted away,
out of site
for a year and a day
and as everyone knows
any contract agreement we had
was then broken.

C.O.

Title or no title, I just love this image of letting it float out to sea. Thanks for sharing this brave piece.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Linda, those first few lines hold so much–about letting go, about the not doing, about the not letting go. The weight of the sadness drifting off and carrying us to those final lines is vast. Despite the sorrow here, I am drawn to your words, so beautifully written. I love both titles!

brcrandall

The metaphor of untying a boat, alone, makes this poem wonderful, Linda (might make for a great prompt for VerseLove26). The whole idea of pushing something away is rich with possibilities.

Angie Braaten

Wow, I love how you chose to start the poem. I agree with others about loving the image/metaphor in this. I think your title is fits better for the poem.

Stefani B

Linda, thank you for writing and I am leaning toward unmooring as a disconnect from this experience.

Susan Ahlbrand

I think it’s interesting to see how personal the title you came up with is . . . “Forgiveness” and how “Unmooring” is perhaps a better word choice but not as connected to the personal side of the poem. It’s a great poem regardless of the title.

Kim Johnson

Linda, you picked great title possibilities. The Poet Laureate of Georgia has a book of poems entitled A Raft of Grief, with raft meaning both the kind that floats and the kind that means a lot. I like the idea of turning loose of the things that sadden us – by forgiving or unmooring.

Julie Hoffman (she/her)

I love the title “Forgiveness,” though I could feel the grieving viscerally. How about “Goodbye”? (Sometimes we are ready to say that before we are able to come through with full forgiveness.)

Kevin

Hi Stefani
I just went with where the words led me.
Kevin

Suddenly In Bloom

You merely blinked
and then it was
as if the switch,
flicked; the flowers
bloomed

Kim Johnson

Your internal rhyme with the short /I/ sound and then the o’s at the end give your poem a lilting bloom.

C.O.

That “woah” moment of waking up to see new flowers on the porch is where my head went. Thanks for bringing cheer to this prompt.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Yes! This time of year. We wait. And wait. And wait some more. And then, it’s here (and gone). I have been watching the last of the daffodils open – their large heads nodding down before popping free after all the others were nearly gone. I love this unfolding time.

brcrandall

“switch, / flicked”…flowers. Nice!

Stefani B

Kevin, “Switch, flicked” are speaking truth with the neon glow of spring blooms.