This is the Open Write, a place for educators to nurture their writing lives and to advocate for writing poetry in community. We gather every month and daily in April — no sign-ups, no fees, no commitments. Come and go as you please. All that we ask is that if you write, you respond to others to mirror to them your readerly experiences — beautiful lines, phrases that resonate, ideas stirred. Enjoy. (Learn more here.)
Our Host
Stacey L. Joy is a National Board Certified Teacher, Google Certified Educator, L.A. County and LAUSD Teacher of the Year. This is Stacey’s 40th and final year of elementary classroom teaching. She currently teaches 5th grade at Baldwin Hills Gifted Magnet and Pilot School. Stacey is a poet at heart with one self-published book and several poems published in various anthologies.
Inspiration
Alex Elle is an author whose writing I fell in love with during the pandemic. Read this beautiful short essay or listen to her read Honoring Grief and Joy. I felt as if she invited me to spend time with both my grief and my joy.
Process
Think about two emotions you want to spend time with or invite to your table. Honor your emotions the way you would honor a loved one. Lean in and trust whatever you feel. Explore Brené Brown’s Atlas of the Heart List of Emotions to narrow down some ideas. You might want to write a letter to your emotion (epistle), a lyric poem, or a haiku sonnet. Consider comparing and contrasting two emotions as they spend time with you.
I used Alex Elle’s phrase: “…joy may grow quiet, but it’s always humming softly in the background” to craft my Golden Shovel poem. If you choose to write a Golden Shovel, you can pull your strike line directly from Alex’s essay. Remember, you are free to write whatever and however your heart desires.
Stacey’s Poem
In The Quiet of Joy
“…joy may grow quiet, but it’s always humming softly in the background”
I long to live in the quiet of joy
cradled gently in its arms where peace may
blossom and thrive; where kindness may grow
and permeate the world. In the quiet
of joy, smiles linger like the sky but
sadness sidles away, it’s
fleeting like dust in sunrays. The quiet of joy always
comforts me like my Nana’s humming
or like Mommie’s nurturing arms softly
holding me, rocking me in
memories of her love. I long to live where joy is the
noise, the laughter, and the quiet in the background
© Stacey L. Joy, 9/28/25
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.
The most spiritually emo adjacent moments I can remember have a few common components – not the tier 1 moments of elation and deep connection and acceptance with my wife or children, but instead the tier 2 moments of muddy melancholy mundane mixed with crisp clarity, fueled in part by an undescribable sky, either clouds or sunrise usually, fueled in part by anxiety or worry or something indimidatingly forebodingly creeping closer only to be vanquished by a brief spurt of confident contentment, fueled in part by the silent thoughts turned audible but heard by no one else, since these moments are fueled in part by being alone, driving in a car
And music
Or silence
One or the other
Emotionally manipulated by the melodies
And the light refracting through the trees
The music so much more than the sum of parts
Lungs filled, skin tingling
Beauty in and all around
Don’t be mad that you were duped
Take it in and
enjoy the moment
The brain reacting to stimuli
The heart being more than just a pump
All connected
Spiritually emo, counting the time in between until the next time I am overcome with the everything of life, all it entails, all it is and isn’t.
A beautiful poem Stacey, thank you!
I love the prompt and I’m sad I missed this in real time. If I am able soon, I will still come back and read and contribute anyway.
Luke, no pressure. If you decide to post a poem, I look forward to reading it. 😊
Stacey,
Your poem is gorgeous, and I think of you as an ambassador for joy. I watched a lot of the Olympics and hope my feeble attempt at a golden shovel, a form I rarely write, honors the dreams of all who aspire, especially our immigrant brothers and sisters.
“Citius, Altius, Fortius”: Heart Fire
[golden shovel]
Passion burns in Each
human running the race of
life. We in the U.S. of us
embrace this ideal from birth. S/he has
a “here you can grow up to be a
Yankee” dream, we say. The fire
symbol Lady Liberty raises in
her torch guides our
American ethos. Hearts
of Dreamers embrace the promise for
a better than before something.
Glenda Funk
February 22, 2026
*Strike line: “Each of us has a fire in our hearts for something.” —Mary Lou Retton
Oh, Glenda, wow! This is so powerful. You’ve added so much to Mary Lou Retton’s statement to make it something so new and true. “the U.S. of us” is great. “Heart of dreamers embrace the promise…” Just beautiful!
Glenda, I love your poem and its message. I’m particularly taken by the image of Lady Liberty and the promise our country is supposed to be offering. Gorgeous Canva, too!
Hi Glenda,
Sorry for the late response. Thank you! You may not be one who writes Golden Shovel poetry often, but you’ve written a masterpiece! The passion and hope for a better future pour from your poem.
I love this. We embrace a promise but we really don’t know what for. Powerful.
Thank you, Glenda!
Stacey, your GS poem is masterful! I feel the two emotions and love that you honored and reflected on stillness, noise, and warmth. Thanks for the invite to write and participate in this comforting group again. I’m looking forward to retirement soon as I’m sure you are too. Its just a matter of months now….
Love and blessings, sister! Thank you for co-hosting and for being YOU! ❤️
Ephemera
By Mo Daley
If I had decided to nap just two minutes later
Or decided to listen to a podcast
Rather than watch a nature documentary,
I would have never known about sapcicles,
Sweet and fleeting winter treats of frozen dripping sap
That feed long-tailed tits during
Frozen Japanese winters until the sun rises,
Destroying the warbler’s revelry
Mo,
Im glad you did not nap and that you taught me a new word. I love it. Sapcicles is a wonderful word. I feel like this needs to be the basis of a picture book.
Your poem would make a great mentor text for poems starting with
If I had decided…
Or decided…
Rather than…
I would have…
I loved it!
great idea, Allison!
Mo, I’m delighted you stayed up and watching the nature documentary. Now, I’m curious to learn more and sapsicles and long-tailed tits. Precious! And I agree with Glenda about this being a children’s book.
Whoa!!! I need to add sapcicles to my Beautiful Words collection! I see that it also connects to your feathered friends.😂
Game Day
Putting in work everyday
Laughter with all your teammates
Complements from your coach
Validation on your performance
Mentally and physically exhausted
Tired and stressed
Meet up to your standards
Anger and anxiety
The day has come
How will you feel?
It is one or the other.
Will everything be worth it?
Great questions, Sophia. There sure are a lot of emotions swirling around game days, no matter what the game. You’ve captured the tension nicely.
Sophia,
This is a question we all face when competing, and not just in sports. I wish we had a system like Norway’s that deemphasizes winning and honors participation.
Sophia, wow, the emotions of game day can be many, depending on the outcome too. Is there ever a game day of relaxing and confidence? Or is that not possible. Anything can happen, I guess.
Hi Sophia,
I love the way you captured the emotions and energy of athletes. It’s always frustrated me that athletes are pumped up and positive in preparation for big games but the anxiety is even bigger. I wish it could all be FUN!
Stacey,
Thank you for hosting and feeding us the beautiful essay on “Grief and Joy.” I listened to it a few times. I almost wrote a found poem / blackout poem with some of her beautiful lines, writing down the words that resonated. That proved enough to get me started on my own poem. A technique I hope to remember to return to.
So much beauty and love in these lines:
I love how your Mom continues to rock you in your memories.
___________________________________________________
Cousins
Some of you far away
Some of you with us only in memory
Sit with me
Let’s steep some tea
As our mothers once did
Remember splashing
In the cold of Jerry Lake?
Our feet reaching for the reassurance
Of the gravel bottom
Remember learning to skip stones?
Remember how good the heft
Of the flat stones
Felt in our palms?
Then the moment of joy and pride
As with a just right flick of our wrist
We released the stone
Watching it skip impossibly
Across the surface
Of the lake
Sharon, I absolutely love this and enjoyed being there with you. I felt the stones, the cold lake, and the gravel at the bottom. Beautiful and nostalgic! There’s no love like cousins’ love!
Sharon, you always manage to invite readers with you. It is as though I am right there with you and your cousins. These lines felt so relatable for me and reminded my childhood adventures running to the river, learning to skip stones, and watching them bounce over as a kind of miracle we’d created. So cool!
What wonderfully specific memories you have of spending time with your cousins, Sharon. I love the reassurance of the gravel bottom- so relatable!
Sharon,
Ah, this brings back some fond cousin memories. I love all the images of good skipping stones time.
Sharon, so many rich memories came back for me as I read your poem. I smiled when I got to being in the cold Jerry Lake. I went with my cousins to cold Jenny Lake at the base of the Grand Tetons, and skipped stones in many western lakes over our childhoods. I just love how you are talking to your cousins throughout the poem, but your reader gets in on their own memories.
Steady
A small thread on my sleeve is loose,
And once I notice it I pick.
I pick,
and pick,
and pick.
I try to move on with my day,
All I can think about is that darn thread.
What do others think about it?
What happens if I stop picking at it?
Why wont it go away?
I have 2 options,
Keep picking till there’s no sweater left.
Or
Or try to ignore it.
The more I ignore the more uneasy I get,
thoughts running marathons,
what ifs crossing the finish line one after another,
The fire grows and I’m feeding it,
Then just as im about to shut down,
You come with your scissors and cut the long long string.
You hold my hand and are so gentle with me.
You see past the storm of anxiety and see me.
What would I do without you,
my steady.
Jayden, yes! Your poem resonates with me but it happens when I have a hang nail. I long for the day when I can ignore dry cuticles or hang nails. 😂
The turn is pure love to know there is help on the way. I’m so curious who this could be or even if it’s just your inner self saving you from the anxiety.
Thank you for this poem, Jayden.
This is lovely, Jayden. It’s sometimes hard for me to understand other people’s anxiety, but you’ve portrayed it wonderfully here. Those last 6 lines- killer!
Jayden,
I love the problem/solution structure here and feel the tension of the annoying string and the relief of the scissors clipping that nuisance away. This is a tightly structured poem and so relatable and a pleasure to read.
Exam Week:
focus and relief
sit down with me.
Focus has a highlighter
and a half-charged laptop.
It just points at the next paragraph
and says, keep going.
Relief shows up later,
leaning against the wall,
checking the clock,
nodding when I finish a page.
They don’t give praise.
They just help me
turn things in on time.
By midnight
the room is quiet,
the assignment uploaded,
and for once
you are finally relieved
Easton, I really enjoy the different personalities you’ve crafted between focus and relief. I like how focus “just points” and “says, keep going” while “[r]elief shows up later, / leaning against the wall.” Thanks for this!
Easton, you capture the experience of most teachers on the weekend! Just by selecting a couple of distinctive characteristics of using online resources to help us do what we must do more efficiently. Reading exams, personally, and not having our equipment scan them for “correctness” is quite another matter. Don’t be surprised if, soon, our laptops are “reading” those exams, but we, the humans, must still do the final evaluation. It’ll soon be midnight for some of us, and we’ll be relieved that we finished before the new day.
so relatable I love this!!
Oh, Easton, you nailed it! I hope you always know the importance of this balance. Celebrate when you finish…no matter what the finish line looks like.
This is brilliant:
👏🏽 👏🏽 👏🏽
Easton- I found this very relatable
seething seeping
steeping tea
withering writhing
whining pain
waiting waning
wanting out
ailing aching
angry throat
listless lethargic
leathery tongue
inert ennui
enough of this
This delightful and very intentional sound play with alliterations is so skillful, Allison. The choice of words is careful. I am especially drawn to these lines:
“withering writhing
whining pain”
I really like how you tie alliteration into your poem so seamlessly. This just makes the poem that much more engaging really nice job!
Allison,
I like how you embrace alliteration and then reject it, moving on from
to
Form follows function,
Allison,
Awww, I sure hope you’re feeling well soon (if this is your condition). The alliteration is perfect!
Rest and be well, my friend!🫖
Allison,
Im right there w/ you. I’ve been drinking black tea two weeks because a nasty cold precluded me from enjoying coffee. I do love all the alliteration and word play here. Feel better.?
The rush of emotions:
My emotions arrive
like guests at my door—
some gentle,
some loud,
some carrying storms
in their pockets.
Still,
I invite them in.
I listen.
I learn their names.
For even the heaviest ones
carry a truth I need-
a way back to myself,
a way deeper
into being human.
Every emotion
is proof I am here-
alive,
awake,
becoming.
I love the emotions knocking at your door:
“carrying storms in their pockets.” Wonderful line.
Nora, your willingness, according to lines that say,
For even the heaviest ones
carry a truth I need-
suggests that you know that learning is tough, and because you invite in learning experiences as guests, you’re likely not only to be a lifelong learner, but a sharer of what you learn, just like you’ve done in this poem.
Your closing lines remind us, the living, is becoming and suggesting that we only “arrive” when we’re gone.
Knock, knock… I hope you see this writing with this group – gentle, a little loud — as a way, that like me, you learn…if nothing more…to say a lot with a little.
Hi Nora,
Love, love, love this! I’m grateful for the number of poems today that honor ALL of our emotions.
It’s critical to lean into our heaviest emotions too. Thank you.
I enjoyed this, Nora! And I love the ending: “Every emotion / is proof I am here- / alive, / awake, / becoming.” Thanks for crafting and sharing this!
Stichomancy
Divination through
the lines of a book or poem
chosen at random
___________________________________________
Stacey, thank you for your prompt and your mentor poem today! I loved your Golden Shovel and that strike line is perfect. I, too, “long to live where joy is the / noise, the laughter, and the quiet in the background”! For my offering, I was trying to walk the line between frustration and joy and my core metaphor was going to be when you (and by you, I mean, me, lol) when you spend a great deal of time riffling through a text, searching for a key passage or quote, and you’re unable to find it, until suddenly it springs out at you! And then I stumbled upon “Stichomancy” and thought, this is a thing?, and I had to write about that instead.
Thank you for putting Stichomancy on my stumble path! I must learn more–
Scott,
Thanks for a new, fun-to-say word. Is it just me or does it sound like its meaning? Now I’m wondering what the word for that is. Ha.
Scott, I learned a new word, and I think it needs a follow-up/cure because it describes me! This is definitely “a thing” for me. 🤣
Mixture of emotions
I love when it’s a sunny day,
When it’s not sunny I feel grey.
The sun makes me happy,
Without it I feel crappy.
Oh how I want the sun back,
Vitamin D is what I lack.
Bella, for most of my life I didn’t pay much attention to the weather, but as I age, I think it’s affecting me more and more. The sun has such an impact on me! Thank you for capturing this feeling.
Bella, I’m with you! I am a sun-lover, and when we have too many grey days (even in L.A.), I feel so down. Make sure to take vitamin D supplements! 🌞
Hope in the Distance
Hope glimmers on the far horizon
A faint speck that keeps us moving
Calling us when it is dark
Pulling our feet forward
Past grief and sadness
Towards the light
where it waits
So near
Hope
Aaron,
This form fits your content so well. Hope is such a powerful thing and your lines describe it well. I especially love
Aaron, I agree: “Hope” is sometimes only “[a] faint speck” “on the far horizon” but it does, indeed, “[keep] us moving”! Thank you for crafting and sharing this with us!
I really enjoy the set up of this poem. it fits the content very well.
Aaron,
Great use of a nonet. It really fits your message, hope moving from distant to close. It so satisfying to get to the end of your poem and settle on hope.
These lines resonate with me:
Hi Aaron,
I love the nonet for this poem’s topic. It’s gentle and inviting.
Thank you. I’m listening and waiting for hope to call us all into the light.
Great poem, Stacey! I love the line, “In the quiet of joy, smiles linger like the sky but sadness sidles away, it’s fleeting like dust in sunrays.” I decided to write about two common feelings when traveling alone: freedom and loneliness.
Sitting here against this tree,
as the wind blows through my disheveled hair,
My hands run over my unshaven face,
I reflect on my solus journey.
From bustling, busy city streets,
to quiet rural villages,
to the highest elevated peaks,
and the lost, untamed wilderness.
Man’s wanderlust knows no bounds,
And who am I to let man down?
I am no exception,
I am chained to this life.
I once read a quote about adventure,
it being a “romantic name for trouble,”
Could I call this love “romantic”
For the trouble it has indeed brought.
It is something I live for,
To explore God’s handcrafted mold,
and if His Earth is this exhilarating,
What could Heaven have in store?
Chained, I might be.
But how free it makes me.
Yet, no matter the many sights,
I have no one to share this with.
My mind wanders to my beloved,
the ones I left behind.
The people I wouldn’t be here without,
But aren’t by my side.
The price to pay for freedom,
I would have to say,
Could be the emptiness I feel
On my adventures along the way.
Hi Clay,
I love the quiet and peace in the opening stanzas. Isn’t that what solo travel should bring?
Ohhh, the paradox here with chained and free is brilliant!
I can also deeply appreciate wanting to be solo, but also missing the ones who aren’t with you. Enjoy your adventures and I believe the emptiness will pass.
Thank you, Stacey, for this invitation. In a travel writing workshop, my teacher pointed out that it’s kind of like real conversation: one voice might be judgment, the other emotion, and the magic happens in how they talk to each other. I am trying a contrapuntal poem. Basically a multi-voice poem, often in columns, that you can read in different ways—up and down, across, or mixed together.
I couldn’t figure out the colums,so I made it into stanzas here and an image of the columns.
THE TOAST
I sit slowly, hands resting on the edge of the small tiled counter
Judgment: You make me feel managed
Emotion: My chest tightens, a coil I cannot name
Sunlight slides across the table, warming my arms
Judgment: You control the mornings
Emotion: I ache to stretch into my own light
Knife taps against the plate, a quiet percussion
Judgment: You tally my toast
Emotion: I notice the rhythm of your care and flinch
I inhale deeply, leaning slightly forward toward the ceramic mug
Judgment: You measure my steps
Emotion: I want to dissolve into the coffee cup, elsewhere
Two hands lift one leg, then the other, balancing in the kitchen’s center
Judgment: You expect obedience
Emotion: I am small, trembling on the edge of saying no
Toast crumbs scatter on the counter, unnoticed
Judgment: You watch too closely
Emotion: My hands itch to move away
He sets the knife down carefully, waiting
Judgment: You try to guide me
Emotion: I feel love that constricts as much as it comforts
My eyes flick to the window, glimpsing the ocean beyond rooftops
Judgment: You insist on knowing
Emotion: I wish to wander alone, the pelicans beside the water enough company
I lean back, letting the tension slide through my shoulders
Judgment: You track my hunger
Emotion: I taste the salt in the air, the heat on my arms, and feel alive
I pick up one piece of toast, leaving the other untouched on the plate
Judgment: You impose care as oversight
Emotion: I carry desire and fear together, tangled, tender
Oh, Sarah, I love this poem with its simple title and subject, but with the full range of our own judging and emotions. Fascinating and Wow! Thank you for sharing about contrapuntal poems.
Some of my favorite lines: “I carry desire and fear together, tangled, tender” and “I notice the rhythm of your care and flinch”
Sarah, whew, what a phenomenal poem and form! I need to work on this form soon.
I am so sad about the tallying of toast! Toast is delicious! No counting allowed. ☺️
I imagine you here, wishing to wander! Your final line speaks volumes!
Thank you, Sarah, for another gift and for sharing a new form for me to try.
🥰
Stacey, this prompt was spot on for me; a dear friend’s recent birth of her twins has melded far more than two emotions. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to write into this.
Breathtaking
the doctor’s words
however tender
collided
no heartbeat
for one twin
mom
dad
family
spinning stumbling reeling
while
the babies nestled
together
that last month
waiting to be born
one alive, one deceased
the dissonance of both at once
pain and hope
joy and grief
death and life
heavy with contradictions
the great day arrived
the babies decided
it was time
this
precious
mystery
of birth
bringing forth
sweet newborn, deeply loved
dear stillborn, achingly missed
mourning and rejoicing
forever coupled
Oh, Maureen, this is breathtaking and heartbreaking at the same time. I cannot even imagine how to reconcile these:
pain and hope
joy and grief
death and life
Your final line express the stirring emotions precisely:
morning and rejoicing
forever coupled
Beautifully sad. Thank you!
Oh, Maureen, how heartbreaking. I’m so sad for the “dear stillborn, achingly missed” by everyone else, including the living twin, who will always carry this heavy story as part of his own–“forever coupled” You have written such a beautiful piece about the twins.
First, I send sincere condolences and love to you and your dear friend. I can’t imagine the sorrow and grief.
I’m glad you were able to use the prompt today to write about this joyous birth and awful loss. Your final lines are powerful because I imagine they speak to the twins and the parents.
I hope the joy and love from the surviving baby fills everyone’s hearts forever.
Hugs, Maureen.🕊️
This is such a powerful poem and I think that you are so brave for sharing this poem. Your last line when you wrote “mourning and rejoicing forever coupled” it is just such a great choice of words and really does a great job of wrapping up the emotions seen in the poem.
Maureen,
this brings tears and heartache, and such a whirlwind of emotion. I’m grateful for the loving twin. The miracle. And also counting the blessings that the one who did not make it did not die alone but in the close space with a sibling in the warmth of a womb cocooned in love.
This poem is so touching and heartbreaking, I am so sorry for your loss. The way your words tie emotions of love and grief is so beautiful.
Maureen,
Your poem is the embodiment of two competing emotions. It leaned me breathless. It really is a brilliant work of art. I’m so sorry for your friend and the twin. What will life be like for the twin who lived always feeling that loss and wondering about the sibling. I have no words to say all I’m thinking.
Stacey, I love the prompt for today. I also enjoyed reading Alex Elle’s essay. Of course, you chose the most glorious line to write your Golden Shovel and elevate it with your experiences. The final lines express my wishes too: “I long to live where joy is the
noise, the laughter, and the quiet in the background.”
Since my yesterday’s poem was colored with grief, I decided to take a different direction today. I have just finished reading my students” personal narratives—I usually laugh and cry as I read, so by the end of the day, I feel the weight of these stories. Here, I present a bit of idealized ending: this feeling of content is always easier said than done.
Between Self-Trust and Competence
Tonight I set the table for three:
Self-Trust and Competence
join me for Sunday dinner.
They arrive without spectacle.
They have always known the way.
They are familiar with my routines.
We sit. We eat.
We do not rush.
We take it in, bit by bit.
I tell them about my students’ stories—
the first loves, the heartbreaks,
adventures, childbirth, grief, loss.
They listen. They understand.
“You’ve done this before,”
gently reminds Self-Trust.
“You know how to care kindly,”
encourages Competence.
When I finally close the laptop,
they do not call it surrender.
They see my heart is full.
I, too, need tending.
Leilya, the image of sitting with Self-Trust and Competence is one that we all should consider…yes, to encourage those inner voices of wisdom. Beautiful! Good tending. (love that last word!)
Oh, what a lovely treatment of your emotional time today. I love their understanding and how you three are finding your way together in this poem. And that last line! Perfection! Your students are blessed beyond measure to have Professor Pitre caring for them!
Hi, my friend! I love that you actually welcomed them to your table. The kind and compassionate ending was exactly what I had hoped for you after spending quality time on their narratives. They’re so blessed to have you as their instructor.
I hope you enjoy an evening of care for YOU! 🌺
Leilya,
These lines give me such a clear picture of you:
Love your ending:
It can indeed be quite a weight to read and hold the stories of so many young people. I’m glad you recognize that you, too, need tending.
Your students are fortunate to have such a caring teacher.
Leilya,
Love the personification and the faith this act of writing requires. This is a poem that speaks to all we do here in this space. Love that last line and the way it speaks to self-care.
Emotional Incident
The voice is heard,
but not spoken,
Whispers our,
decisive omen.
Yours is there speaking
to you,
Do not fret,
because mine is too.
Maybe it’s the spirit,
or coincidence,
maybe we are all,
in an emotional incident.
It could be the devil,
wanting you to want,
or is it
just a moment of taunt.
It drives us sanely mad,
Frustrated from the times,
we could have had.
Depressing from the past
Or
Anxiety to outlast?
Stress from today,
Or
Morality sways?
We try to control it,
to no avail,
some take pills,
some cast spells.
Some exercise,
Some write,
Some eat too much,
Some fight!
Happiness tangles with sad,
Crying too much,
or getting so mad.
So, if we all have it,
then why are we not the same,
because some listen,
and some are shamed.
Maybe it’s the flowers,
around us,
or our parents,
that constantly fussed.
Or the neglect,
The disrespect,
Retrospect,
All Come out
As we reflect,
Some can control it,
Others become
EmoTOenAl RecKz.
What is it,
That makes us be?
Maybe I’ll breakdown,
emotionally.
That way I would
surley learn,
Is it sporadic,
or a constant burn.
Heaven or Hell,
Truth or a tale,
Epic wins,
Or
Regretful fails?
Let us breathe
on the exercise,
and recognize,
we cannot disguise,
our eternal demise.
Our minds have
two voices,
one rational,
one for our choices.
Boxer, I am amazed at how you were able to keep up with rhyming while delivering such a weighty message. Several lines captured my attention as you explore the response to stressful emotional overload, and I draw connections to my reactions:
We try to control it,
to no avail,
some take pills,
some cast spells.
Some exercise,
Some write,
Some eat too much,
Some fight!
What a wonderful wander through delightful rhymes about those opposing voices within us! I particularly liked the lines “”some take pills, some cast spells” – yes, we try very hard to control these internal voices, to no avail, I’d say.
Boxer, just wow! I can hear this as spoken word and I’m up for the standing ovation! Susan wrote about shame and guilt. You captured a similar concern here. I especially liked the title and how the poem takes me through a range of incidents. Incredible.
Thank you, Boxer.
Oh, Stacey . . . what a fabulous prompt today. I loved reading Alex Elle’s reflection. Thinking of the interrelatedness of emotions took me down a rabbit hole and I know that I will write many different outputs inspired by this prompt.
It’s a Thin Line
The line between
guilt and shame
is thin
yet massive.
Shame keeps us stuck,
keeps us self-focused,
keeps us looking inward
shrouded from others,
isolated.
Guilt leads us out
to connection
to own our wrong-doing
to admit and to atone
and then to move on,
unifying.
Shame is a boulder
impossible to carry,
weighing us down
with its unwieldy bulk.
Guilt is a pebble
we hide in our pockets
until we are urged to confess
and set things right with
its healing salve rippling out
to others and the universe,
Shame shrouds us from truth
and acknowledgment
by steering our thoughts inward,
deceiving us into thinking
we are intrinsically and infinitely
flawed,
insulating us from feeling
healthy guilt
and acting on it appropriately.
Guilt moves us along,
our conscience tapping us
on the shoulder
and urging us to change.
Shame stops us from looking at
our choices,
trapping us in place
thinking we are flawed
and incapable of improving.
There are myriad ways
to deal with guilt,
but what’s the antidote
for shame?
~Susan Ahlbrand
22 February 2026
Susan, what a wise exploration of guilt and shame in your poem! You change my perspective on guilt from being almost hopeless to the one that
“leads us out
to connection
to own our wrong-doing
to admit and to atone
and then to move on,
unifying.”
And then you final question leaves me speechless: “what’s the antidote for shame?”
Fascinating dive into these “sibling emotions” – guilt and shame…I wholeheartedly agree that shame keeps us stuck – this continued sense of “we are intrinsically and infinitely
flawed.” Even that pebble of guilt becomes a huge weight carried over time… Wonderful poem, Susan.
Great poem! I never really thought about how differently guilt and shame can weigh on us. This was very well done and made me think about the ways to deal with both!
Susan,
You tackled two heavyweights and did it so well. I love the comparisons of shame as a boulder and guilt as a pebble. Nailed it!
If only the guilty would confess!
Excellent, Susan. Thank you!
Susan, what a question! The antidote for shame juxtaposed with myriad ways to deal with guilt – wow! And I loved the metaphors. The boulder. These are real and heartfelt. I’ve carried a lot of both.
Stacy, thanks for sharing your golden shovel and the beautiful writing of Alex Elle. I love the soothing sounds and constant “humming” of joy being ever present.
“I Want to Feel It All”
Inspired by “Melancholia” by Charles Bukowski –
“The history of melancholia includes all of us.”
Was it Rumi who explored the
Duality of emotions? In the history
Of mankind, we must experience all extremes of
Emotion. There is no love without melancholia.
Give me every emotion, that includes
The paralysis and doom of depression. I want it all!
One must weep tears of
Joy as often as the other kind. It fulfills us!
By Shaun Ingalls
Shaun, I like the line from Bukowski you used for your Golden Shovel. Ending with joy gifts us a promise. I read quite a bit about and from Rumi; my daughter’s thesis was grounded in Sufism. Thank you for sharing!
I love this style of poetry, and I loved this poem! Every emotion is vital to our lives! Even sadness and grief. It makes us know what it means to be happy, and who makes us feel that way.
Hi Shaun,
I appreciate those who want to feel all the emotions. It’s the reason we have them!
And now I need some Rumi to touch my heart! Thanks, Shaun, for this gift!
Shaun, there is a power that emanates throughout your poem, especially in the central lines (Give me every emotion… I want it all!). It’s a fulcrum of sorts with contemplation balancing on either side. There’s something to be said for demanding all as a way to fully live.
Still feeling prickly about this feeling … probably clouded my thoughts from any other poem starts 😆
whiplash
I love winter.
I love the cold.
But I would rather be sweaty and sunburned than listen to one more second of my neighbor’s old ass car idling outside my house to smoke a cigarette before going home.
The constant low rumble permeating every wall of my house and prickling every last nerve in my body.
My brain is usually loud and crowded, but when this asshole comes home from work, sneaks one last cigarette in his warm car, my brain turns irrationally angry, seething with the same heat as the smoke in his lungs.
Something I love so much turning into something I hate so much, giving me whiplash.
So, yes, love and anger can exist in the same exact moment, turning on and off like keys in the ignition.
Except his keys clearly don’t cut the engine.
C.O. I can feel your anger in this poem. You present understandable reasons for experiencing anger, but the end is fun and impactful! Whiplash is a fantastic title!
C.O., You are quite articulate here with both of your emotions. That final line sounds like a life sentence and made me smile: “Except his keys clearly don’t cut the engine.”
Love your voice here. Cold ass. Whiplash.
C.O., this is raw and real!! I wasn’t expecting the turn from loving the winter to your neighbor’s “old ass car idling”!! Hilarious but also I understand your anger. I believe I feel the same anger when people I love slurp and smack. I love them but I want to scream!
I hope you find a place today to let your brain be “loud and crowded” and he’s nowhere near!
This poem is so real and you truly captures raw emotion. “warm car, my brain turns irrationally angry, seething with the same heat as the smoke in his lungs.” This line was the cherry on top, really nice work!
I love how you can feel your anger while reading this poem. I understand the feeling of having to deal with the things that make you angry while doing the things you love.
Thanks, Ms. Joy. As always, you inspire us to be honest about our feelings. So here’s mine
Jealous of Joy
Jealousy may lead to resenting
The great work our Ms. Joy’s always presenting.
But when we read what she writes,
We see there no reason to fight
Because she so often is right.
We want our students to feel connection,
But some assignments just cause disconnection.
Because they don’t see themselves
Or a reason to learn,
So often our activities just cause them to spurn.
But alas, there is relief,
When we practice the belief
That all are created equal,
That there’s a positive sequel
To the lesson we bombed today.
Ms.Joy’s poems generously show us the way.
Hi Anna,
I love this play off Stacey’s prompt and poem. You bring forth a sense of lifelong learning and community celebration for all educators to be reminded of. Thank you for sharing today.
Anna,
Looks like you are having some fun with AI, yes? The text and image, both offer visuals that show nuance of joy. As you write joy does not mean the absence od harm. It can be the response to the call, the innovation you note here so poetically.
OMG. Too cute! Not just because you’ve included me in the poem, but because of the reality that lessons bomb and we recover! I don’t know how you manage to craft the perfect rhymes no matter the prompt. Amazing. Adorable graphic too! Thanks, Anna.
🤗
Thank you, Stacey, for spotlighting Alex’s journal and thoughts on grief and joy. I’m in hibernation mode right now, and I want to rest with my grief so joy may sprout up again.
Summoning Joy
Old Italian ladies sit in black
dresses, wide hips touching,
skinny legs dangling off
the old mahogany bench.
This is a photo I know
so well, so intimately.
These are my people,
My grandmother with her friends.
I see in their faces:
dark circles of despair,
wrinkles of worry,
shadows of hidden pain.
And yet, looking closely
I notice my grandmother,
my Josie, whom I never met,
extend her hand to her cousin.
There is hope in her hand,
tenderness, comfort, and love,
through all the tragedy and grief,
fingers intertwined, summoning joy.
I’m feeling extra emotional today for some reason and your poem touched me, especially the last stanza, “There is hope in her hand.”
Joanne, thank you for reminding us the powerful joy that images can bring forth–as well as the despair. Thank you for sharing this with us today.
Joanne, your wish for grief to sprout joy is palpable in your poem. I love that these are your people, even though you never got to meet “my Josie”. Beautiful poem about the photo you have and have memorized of her and her friends. The description of her hand is so good. Here’s to summoning joy.
Hi Joanne,
Thank you for writing today. There’s something tender about their wide hips and skinny legs. I feel close to them from that image. I also feel the generational despair weaving through, but the love and hope never stop. I hope you feel loved as you sit with this poem and image. I would sure like to see the image!
🩵
Joanne, your poem stirs memories for me and I suspect many others of grandmothers with “wide hips and skinny legs” and “dark circles of despair.” Yet, you have included a sign of “hope” as a reminder of “joy” in spite of all the tough days.
You draw the perfect picture of women’s kinship and support,
and I can see those
ladies building each other up. We need more of that in our world.
Serenity is like a warm hug from the people you love.
It’s a long walk alongside nature,
feeling both a slight breeze and warmth from the sun.
It’s taking care of yourself,
both physically and mentally.
Serenity is enjoying the quiet moments that life has to offer.
Thanks for the warm hug of serenity in your thoughtful poem.
Great poem! I love your first line, “Serenity is like a warm hug from the people you love.” I feel the most at peace when I’m with my loved ones!
Great poem! I love the peace and joy this poem gives!
I love that you chose one word, “serenity,” to focus on in the poem. It makes the poem calming and thoughtful.
Ivy,
Thank you for this serene offering in your poem. I seek serenity with intention and I sense here that you do the same.
Enjoy the quiet, peace, and care that today gives. 🌹
An early Sunday morning
A nation sits at the end of their seats
Watching a small, black puck glide across the ice
So much more at stake than a win or a loss
Underneath the pads and the jerseys
Adrenaline
Determination
Grit
Passion
And a competitive fire that burns through every scratch of the ice
They were patient and showed perseverance
Hope
Trust
Respect
Not just for a game but for each other
And in the end what the world saw
Was a bunch of young men
Who were also out there playing for their “brother” who was not with them
Not hockey players
But compassionate human beings
Wearing their hearts on their sleeves
And showing that winning means brotherhood even in death
History will show 24 young men
Tired from a game barely won
Honoring their brother gone too soon
Their photos etched in time with his children a part of it all
USA Hockey, Cortana, Italy 2026
M.S., the details show the emotional bond athletes share. I appreciate the effort and somber tone of this timely poem. Powerful and wonderful testament of this Olympic moment.
We are living in a cove of Canadians right now. I heard cheers and jeers across the apartment complex echoing the pucks movement from winning to losing but very little as you poetically reflect of the beneath. I do not know the allusions you are making here, but I can feel them in your staccato lines, the beats of a history your mark. Thank you.
M.S., this is a beautiful tribute and it speaks to the love and care between fellow athletes. If only this could be the way all humans cared for one another.
💙
M.S., your poem is a portrait of their bravery as well as the power of “hope, trust, and respect.” Lovely
Stacey, thanks for sharing your amazing prompt and brilliant poem. I love the golden shovel line, and the beautiful sound joy creates in your poem.
A Crossroad of Mixed Emotions
Blizzards of anxious
doubts whirl, icicles harden,
petrified inside.
I witness murders,
read grim testimonies, grieve
innocence stolen.
How do I balance
my urge to fight or fly when
anger/fear both rise?
When my purpose is
unclear and my poor heart is
fueled with rage and dread?
When drumbeats of vengeance drown
my voice of reason?
Barb Edler
22 February 2026
Oh, those drumbeats of vengeance! How do we balance that with the voice of reason, indeed! We read Monsters Are Due on Maple Street a couple of months back. The kids looked for who was the best voice of reason – hard but also not in the midst of scapegoating and panic. But they used that thought again when reading A Game of Catch – so glad to see they transferred info from one moment to the next. Hoping we’re equipping them better for the future. Powerful stuff here, Barb.
Oh, Barb, this may have been the poem I was dreaming of this morning. You have captured so many of the mixed emotions in these days. Your words, as always, are brilliant. “blizzards of anxious doubts”, “my poor heart is / fueled with rage and dread” “drumbeats of vengeance drown…” Wow. Barb, is this form called a haiku sonnet?
Yes
Thank you!
This rings so true to me. The questions and no answers are their own kind of emotions. Thanks for sharing this
Barb, my heart feels the same. You nailed the teeter-totter life of my emotions with this stanza:
All I know at this point is that our ancestors are watching and I sure hope we don’t disappoint them. But I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!
Thank you, Barb.
Hugs!
Barb, thank you for sharing this today. How do we find balance, fueled with both anger and hope? You guide us to dig deep and ponder with your poem today.
Barb, the beginning of your poem carries an emotional force of blizzards themselves. I don’t know the answers to your questions, but I had asked them before for myself too. Sometimes I think that maybe, just maybe, if each of us spread a bit more love and cared a little more, the world would change, and then comes another unimaginable reality that wipes out the remnants of hope. Thank you for the right words at the right moment!
This is a powerful poem! I love how you talked about all different types of emotions. Great job!
Barb, this captures the emotions in my heart. Yes, there is a blizzard capturing attention and filling the news; yet, there is also “grim” treatment of so many happening every single day, month after month. Your carefully crafted words are the voice of reason.
Barb,
These images are amazing:
Barb, I love the questions and can truly connect with the rage and reason balance. The more of one, the less of the other, like a seesaw. And I wonder too how to keep the anger in check when I feel it simmering.
Barb,
Your words always eloquently capture the zeitgeist of a moment. I love that this poem is a question. Imagery echoing winter is so appropriate in this moment. I keep thinking about how we need our rage to fight the evil, but we need the joy, too. Both have a place in our lives. Your poem is a witness to the stories. That matters.
THANK YOU everyone who contributed a poem yesterday. I’m continuing to read them all and appreciate all of you who commented and encouraged everyone. Extra thanks to Stacey and Stefani !
Stacey, what a great prompt and poem. I love the idea of joy quietly humming in the background. Thank you for the links today
I chose an emotion that I’m not quite sure I want to honor, but this is what came today. I just learned about it today from Brené Brown’s Atlas of the Heart. I used two emotions borrowed from German.
Schadenfreude (/ ˈʃɑːdənfrɔɪdə / ⓘ; German: [ˈʃaːdn̩ˌfʁɔʏ̯də] ⓘ; lit. “harm-joy”) is the experience of pleasure, joy, or self-satisfaction that comes from learning of the troubles, failures, pain, suffering, or humiliation of another.
Harm-Joy
Why did this emotion
jump out today?
Schadenfreude
harm-joy
Pleasure in another’s
trouble, harm or pain?
This chapter
in our history is
bringing out
the worst
in politicians,
in media,
in me,
in us,
in America.
It’s true, it’s bringing
out the worst in us.
But can schadenfreude be
a by-product of justice?
Princes and prime ministers
fall and we rejoice
in the accountability.
Yes, more accountability,
please.
Yet I look forward
to a new chapter
called freudenfreude,
joy-joy.
Denise, thank you for exploring this emotion today and for giving us freudenfreude – a place I’d rather be. I’ve experienced the first this morning while watching US and Canada play hockey. Such a mix of emotions. I want our athletes to win. I know a government does not always represent its people. Accountability needs to come soon so that we can find the joy in our country again.
The joy-joy period cannot begin soon enough for me, Denise. I feel every bit of the conflicting emotion you share in this poem. I fear the worst of us mentality that I witness daily in my own state’s politics. I appreciate how you incorporated the German words in this poem. Powerful!
Denise, what amazing words to focus on as hopes for “accountability” and “course correction” intersect with a need for respect and in fact joy in today’s increasingly political world. Yet, as I thought about that harm-joy intersection, I really think that it is a message about all of life as there are always winners, losers, those who survive and those who do not. You will have me thinking all day about this.
Denise, my friend, you won’t believe this but my family has a regular laugh from the word you chose! Many years ago, I randomly chose a word in my mom’s dictionary. That was the word. We didn’t enjoy the meaning but we got a laugh every time we said the word in our own silly way!
But, Kim, look at what you’ve created!! I will share this with my loved ones at our next gathering.
Love this!! 💟
Joy-joy for sure is much needed. It’s human nature, I guess, to take some pleasure in others’ pain. I am looking for a time when all is healed, but I’m not sure that will ever, can ever come.
Let’s hear it for the new chapter “freudenfreude”! I love the turn of that last stanza.
Denise, what a great twist and glimpse of hope from harm-joy to joy-joy! I can’t wait to see it happen. I like your linguistic exploration of “schadenfreude” and “freudenfreude” here as well.
Whoa, Denise. This is a word. I might have to find a place for it in the genocide book. I was thinking about how there might be a sort of pleasure or being turned on from pain like a gaper in an accident, but I read another nuance in your poem in that rejoicing of a fallen perpetrator and in your inventing of a new word. This is what language can do. Repair the harm with new words. You’ve done it.
Sarah, yes, I thought there was nuance with this word! I just wanted to clarify, though, that freudenfreude is a real word already! Germans thought of it!
Sure hope
becomes the norm!
Denise,
You’ve touched on important ideas about how the regime can and does bring out the worst in us all. I look forward to freudenfreude, too. For now, keep fighting the good fight.
Stacey, thank you for hosting and for this though-provoking prompt. Your poem is a promise of hope and joy that we all need these days. As a major storm descends on my world as the days are trying to find spring, I thought about Rachel Carson’s words, “There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature—the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.”
My sort-of “golden-shovel-ish” poem finds hope in spite of my fears.
The predictions of devastating winds, epic snows,
Terrifying, frightening, dire news, again,
Fear infuses every breath as evil approaches.
Yet, the dawn did brighten the night sky, again,
Morning comes even if there is panic at the grocer,
Shovels will be ready after the snow falls to-night,
And the longer days assure spring is nearer, and
After this blast, this winter will be memorable!
Anita, I appreciate the way you’ve formatted this golden shovel poem. Epic snows are terrifying in many levels. Here’s hoping for the spring to take hold!
Anita, fear strikes out and takes grip with sharp talons and flies off with us and I feel this so vividly here as we have been preparing for storms and extended power outages lately. You are so right – this season is one for the books. I hope those groundhogs got it all wrong
for once. Your poem marks the time!!
Anita, you have captured the emotion of this heavy, cold winter. Wow. I’m not even experiencing it on the west coast, but with your words you have made this reader come with you into the cold and fear.
Anita,
This speaks to my heart because I often remind myself that “joy comes in the morning.”
Hunker down, bundle up, and wait for spring. I pray you and your family remain safe in the epic cold!
Anita – Bravo! I was afraid to try out a “golden-shovel” poem. I’m glad your take is golden-shovelish. I am bracing for this blizzard and dreaming of spring. Thank you!
Anita, I need this reminder that spring is on its way! We have also been part of this long, long winter and the hopefulness in lengthening days and brighter dawns helps hope feel a bit stronger. I love your placement of Rachel Carson’s words throughout, the bold words look and feel a bit like spring emerging from under the weight of snow.
Anita,
I am reading “shovels will be ready” as a metaphor as well as literal preparation for the snow y’all are getting. Take care. Be safe. Send snow our way. We need it.
Wheeee! I love a good snow storm.
Stacey — Thank you for hosting today and for your beautiful poem honoring your mother and grandmother. Your poem really resonants with me as reminder to hold onto memories of loved one to bring us joy.
My son, who is wise beyond his 27years, practices mindfulness and when I am frustrated with the world he always reminds me to practice gratitude. So I chose Gratitude and Tranquilty as my human emotions today and used the Haiku sonnet.
Tranquility & Gratitude
Find tranquility
In the winter white blankets
In quiet spaces
Daily gratitude
Tucked in a silent prayer
Whispered in exhale
A burning sunrise
Streaking across the silent streams
Tranquil daylight dreams
Daily gratitude
Discover in warm embrace
Family love is grace
Tranquility is quiet. Be still, observe, listen.
Gratitude blooms in her gentle ripples.
Tammi, you and your son are wise to focus on gratitude, the beauty of nature, and the power of love. In this age of noise, panic, and threatening predictions that seem to come at a fever’s pace, your words are a reminder of the promise that life will go on.
Tammi, oh my, the beauty of your poem is mesmerizing! I love the language, its sound and the warm loving emotions evoked through the specific images. Your last line is gorgeous!
Those moments of wisdom
we find in our children are so comforting! I feel the channeling of abundant simplicity here in being grateful for life itself and the love we know. Beautiful! A sheer treasure! Your son’s reach today is wide.
Yay, Tammi! My son and I share Daily Gratitude texts, and I keep a digital gratitude journal! It’s a smart practice and I’m glad your son reminds you to practice gratitude.
Be still. Yes!! Listen and gratitude comes to our hearts. I am grateful for you and your poem.
💙
Wow, I really like how you connected the words you used! This poem is beautiful!
This is such a quiet and beautiful poem. The last line is so powerful – Gratitude blooms in her gentle ripples. Thank you, Tammi.
Tammy, lovely how you pulled a poem from you child’s wisdom and moved us through a meditation. Love the blooms in her gentle ripples line. Such a flow that lands as a mantra you/we might use as we breathe.
I really love how you connected your poem to something that you can personally relate to. This is a very beautiful poem that captures the meaning of the emotion very well!
Feelings are stashed away,
as if they don’t exist,
humans walking the earth each with something hidden,
one by one you walk by strangers,
wonders what lies deep inside,
when you may be struggling with what’s inside you,
Bella,
Your poem speaks truth! This line —“humans walking the earth each with something hidden” — especially resonanted with me as it is a good reminder that everyone has a struggle and a story. It reminds me of the
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s TED Talk “The Danger of a Single Story” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9Ihs241zeg
Bella, your poem give me those “goose-bump” feelings remembering that everyone is carrying burdens as well as hopes and dreams as they walk by or sit at your table.
Hi Bella,
Yes, yes, yes! I’ve been talking about the way people walk by each other and so often don’t even look or speak! It’s not hard to give a stranger or even a coworker a greeting. But I worry that the cell distracted brains no longer even notice humans walking by.
I love that you honor both your own and others feelings that may lie deep inside. Beautiful poem, Bella.
🥰
Wow! This poem got me thinking about how you never know how others are feeling. Great poem!
Bella, ah, your use of the word “you” works to create distance between the writer and the emotional while also inviting readers to be part of a collective “your” or this us implied. Yes, just noticing there might be a struggle can be enough. Lots to ponder here on just a few words. Poetry.
Yes! Each stranger is a mystery. Love it.
Stacey, thank you for hosting us today. I love the overflow of joy in your poem and ties to your name. The quiet joy is often overlooked with the loud version, so thank you for bringing this to us. I have invited some of my pre-service educators to join us this month, so I was inspired to draw on the emotions of sharing poetry with others.
type forth the honoring
of before and after clicking submit
letters cascade from my keyboard
to form words, form meaning
hope full they formulate emotion
in my audience, but the consternation
after opening a new tab to find
a synonym for cliche-d anxiety
I honor that moment or hours
debating if I should click one more
button, space bar, enter—its submitted
now my poetic draft is live, published
the world can join in celebrating/deliberating
my verse–if they were only searching
gratitude I share in a safe, caring
digital space, and yet how many face
the disquiet, the binary: click for authentic
audience OR keep for myself, alone in my drive
is it still a poem if not shared in community?
I really like your poem, Dr. B. It captures how I felt when I wrote my poem before pressing submit. I love the literary devices you have chosen. I also enjoyed the italicized words that represented internal thoughts.
Dr. B this is a great representation of what it feels like to write and analyze a high stakes assignment. Is it going to be preserved the way I hope? Is it correct grammatically? These are often questions that stem from the emotion this provokes inside. Over all I completely relate to your poem and the message.
Stefanie — Your last lines — “and yet how many face
the disquiet, the binary: click for authentic
audience OR keep for myself, alone in my drive
is it still a poem if not shared in community?” — really got me thinking about how digital space can be so powerful. We are so fortunate to have this caring community.
Stefani, there is so much to enjoy about your poem including this line, “I honor that moment or hours debating if I should click.” This is a powerful reminder for your preservice teachers, my grad students, and all of us that we all wonder if our “words” are ready to go out into the world!
Hi Stef,
You put words to emotions and experiences I have EVERY time I write poetry. I appreciate knowing we are not alone in this space.
These lines hit home:
I also know that sweet feeling of knowing we have the option of keeping it to ourselves and not sharing with the audience. As always, Stef, your poetry is a gift.
💗
Stefani, I often feel conflicted when sharing a poem. Your closing question is one to ponder, and I appreciate the way your poem reflects the power of a writing community. It is surely a blessing to witness when our efforts are treated with care. Powerful verse!
Love these questions lingering, even pressing on the possibilities of a poem. Your words invite reflection around how we learn what counts as poem and why we write poetry. Yes, we each have to find our own answers. And it seems you have yours today. We are witnessing your words. Your poem has at once served you and others here. And I now carry your words with me.
Stacey, how I have thought of my west coast writing friends this week as I’ve been in your neck of the woods over the past few days. There is a special place in my heart, and thank you for tapping into it today with your prompt. As always, every time I think of a golden shovel, I think of you, my friend! Yours is beautiful today. As a fellow member of the Missing our Moms club, I can so totally relate to the nurture I miss. You capture it so eloquently here. We were blessed with loving moms.
Emotions
I’ve had a few
severe ones came
on takeoff from
the Vegas airport
yesterday
my phone was in
airplane mode
with Delta wi-fi
but my soul wasn’t
it wasn’t the
proverbial placenta pulling
it was the heartstrings
as I watched my
daughter ping on
Find My Phone
our plane flying
away, away, away
so far home
my firstborn watching
planes from her window
beneath, asking
in her text
if the plane she saw
might be us
Kim — I feel the sadness of distance and of leaving in your poem. These lines were especially powerful “it wasn’t the/proverbial placenta pulling/it was the heartstrings.”
I hope you get to see your daughter again soon.
Kim, while your trip out west certainly had wonderful moments, you captured, here, the pangs of a mom whose “heartstrings” were “pinging with pining” already for her child. As moms. I think we are hard-wired for that pining, but it is a complex emotion as we leave our children who we empowered to be independent spirits living their best lives.
Oh, Kim. I felt this, deep in my being. I hope it was your plane she saw, stretching out the heartstrings aa little further…
Kim, the image of this – a mother leaving a child behind – and the emotion felt by both is heart-wrenching, especially as it’s usually the child doing the leaving. But the sadness is the same no matter the way it goes. Such depth here.
Kim, oh your poem is rife with emotion. The anxiety a loved one can feel when tragedy strikes. The language here is striking, and I love the way your voice pulled me into the emotional pull between a mother and her daughter.
Hi Kim, thank you for connecting me and Golden Shovels. I am sure YOU are the one who nurtured the golden in me! 💛
Wow, I am feeling every emotion in your poem. Not only are you missing Mom, but also missing your precious daughter.
I love this! Only when we are vacationing does my soul go into airplane mode, so this makes perfect sense.
I also love the image of her pinging and watching from the window. I hope you see your daughter again soon.
Hugs!🤗
I love the alliteration and repetition in your poem, Kim. It illustrates so perfectly the strength of your and your daughter’s emotions and heartstrings.
My daughter always texts when she is boarding a plane. I got one at 6 AM this morning as she returned from NYC. I feel so much emotion in your poem, the leaving behind of your love as you remember the love of your own mother.
Kim,
Theres a passage in War and Peace that speaks to this pull on our hearts that lasts a lifetime. I wrote a poem about it for today, so this idea has been on my mind. I love the “find my phone” metaphor that in my reading feels like “find my heart.” It is both with me and. with my child. This is so haunting and beautiful. I do hope you had fun in Vegas and enjoyed MST and desert air. And, of course, the Eagles!
“placenta pulling,” wow. Great phrase. And, those emotions of love…being separated. Oooof, they are strong. Good catch in this poem.
To honor joy and pride
Always by my side
To have me want to be the best
After my accomplishments, I am blessed
All other emotions helped me get where I am at
To be truly human, is that
Ryan, I love this poem. While reading it made me value and appreciate all that I have accomplished, to look back on what got me to where I am. Often this over looked by many, this was a great reminder to look back and reflect.
Ryan — I agree that joy and pride over one’s accomplishments can definitely propel one forward. I like the way this reflection “All other emotions helped me get where I am at” pulls all of the emotions together.
Ryan, you clearly are celebrating the joy and pride that have driven you to be your best. I know I do not stop often to celebrate what I have accomplished and you have reminded me (and others) to stop and reflect on the power of those emotions to the human experience.
Hi Ryan,
Honoring joy and pride hits home for me. In the brevity of your poem, you give so much for us to see and know about you. I love the recognition that “all other emotions” are part of a successful journey to self!
👏🏽 👏🏽 👏🏽
Ryan, this poem is beautiful! Being able to honor both the joy and the pride that got you where you are is so inspirational.
I love the last line of this poem. I think that it really encapsulates the message that you are trying to convey. This poem has a great flow to it as well, great work!
Lovely and I’m digging the rhyme. I love a good beat.
A beautiful poem of joy! Thanks for the invitation to a golden shovel. I released swallowtails from overwintering. What joy! I used a striking line from “Moth” by Billy Merrill that I found in Irene and Charles’ book Dictionary for a Better World.
“Let us open and open, without knowing how.”
Like the butterfly in spring, Let
your heart know the us
of the universe: We open
the screen door and
swallowtail flies to the open
skies without
anyone holding on or even knowing
where it was going, just how.
Margaret, you capture that single moment of release in so many ways. I could sit within this line for days and just savor: let your heart know the us of the universe. I’m also struck by the weight of that last word – how. It’s all we really need to know to begin and yet it flummoxes us so often (hence the holding on).
Margaret, I love Let your heart know the us of the universe. Those 9 words are needed more today than ever before. I’d like that t-shirt, and I’d like to wear it to a few planned places in particular. Your message is gorgeous, and the theme of freedom and uniqueness flies on wings.
Margaret —
I love how your poem works as a metaphor for life. I see the release of the swallowtails as letting go of burdens and an opportunity for rebirth,even in uncertainity. Thank you for your beautiful and inspiring words.
Margaret, this quote is a keeper for sure. You have captured the joy not only of your swallowtails heading off but also the hope we all need to have to be open to the future without knowing where it is going. Thank you
Hi Margaret,
You gave me a loving and hopeful emotion even though I know it’s bird-related😂! The opening is an invitation for us to remember we are the universe, we are not alone. Thank you, friend. 🥰
Margaret, this is a delight. That final line is something–what joy to imagine the swallowtail opening and taking to the skies without knowing where it is going. Such a great thought. So radiantly confident.
This is a great message. The words are inspiring and bring bright images to the mind.
“the us of the universe” is astoundlingly beautiful!
Stacey, how desperately I want to stay in your poem, in the quiet of joy, especially on a Sunday morning alongside the birds (who awakened with our recent stretch of warmth and are now still singing into the overnight snow). Your imagery comforts and nestles. So, so beautifully. Brown’s Heart List is a great source – I used every one of the words from the it’s beyond us list.
what’s Beyond us
childhood is a time
for curiosity
( i wonder where that went)
eyes full of interest
wide with surprise
(no longer)
through looking glasses
and neverlands
(disappeared)
asking why
and why some more
(no time for that)
I don’t want to know
What happens in the upside down worlds
(Shut the door, lock it tight)
Confusion sits alongside
The answers to why
(Check under the bed)
Eyes wide shut
Ears jammed open
(Make it stop)
Don’t go down that road
The breadcrumbs aren’t safe
(Keep the light on please)
Oof! Those parenthetical statements hit hard. Keep the light on! I am inspired with how you used form to express the emotion.
Jennifer, I can so relate to ears jammed open……and the parentheses are a hit in the intensified thought process of reaction to each line. Those looking glasses and never lands are just the focus needed to show how blurred our lines really are now. Mic drop.
Jennifer, those parentheses are the perfect way to show the concerns we share for the present as well as the future!
Hi Jennifer,
I am in awe at your approach, especially with the parenthetical lines! Your journey from curiosity to fear and uncertainty is exactly what I see everyday. I walk around enjoying the curiosity and freedom my students show me, but in the quiet of my mind, I’m doubtful and expressing silent fears.
Another poignant poem, Jennifer. 💙
Oh, what a great idea for your poem, using all the “It’s Beyond Us” emotions. Oh, I thought of some of the transition between all the whys and freedom of childhood curiosity and awe to the overthinking and overly-cautious adult world that I now embody. Here’s to more child-like freedom.
You’ve made me want to try your process with another section.
Oh my goodness, Jennifer, you lead us to questioning, and then that 2nd stanza mounts the tension. How deftly you construct anxiety:
(Check under the bed)
Eyes wide shut
Ears jammed open
(Make it stop)
Don’t go down that road
The breadcrumbs aren’t safe
Jennifer, I love the way your poem recreates those moments from childhood filled with wonder and curiosity, juxtaposed with all the “adultspeak” that corrupts and infects the beauty of innocence. Very poignant!
Jennifer, I admire the play with children literature that anchors your poem’s daunting question. Loved the breadcrumbs aren’t safe and the sensory appeal through both eyes and ears. I feel that urgent need to keep the lights on. Powerful and compelling poem!
This is a very powerful poem that can convey a variety of emotions. I really love the direction you took with your poem and the overall themes that you brought out.
If ever there was a need for fairy tales, it’s now. I wonder if in all the role play gaming, there’s a theme of hero quest…fairy tale like? This poem makes me wonder.
What a beautiful poem for this morning. It’s cold and rainy outside. My cats are cuddled up next to me and my laptop. We are the only ones awake in the house for some early morning writing time. I’m literally living quiet joy.
Thanks for the emotions listed in Atlas of the Heart. Neat chart!
I want to spend time with empathy and contentment.
sun rays see the dark
shadows know there’s sadness there
grow toward each other
Oh my, Linda! This is perfection in 17 syllables. The words lean into themselves and reach toward one another in every line. Beautifully, beautifully done.
What a loving image: sun rays growing toward each other. The lessons of nature abound.
I really love the haiku; it was really beautiful and used great literary devices found in poetry.
Linda, the power of haiku is a force like none other in poetry. I love the deep zappings I feel in them, and yours is a prime reason why today. That jab of realization. It’s here.
Linda, you captured so much emotions in very few words. I am compelled by the amount of words you connected to another.
Linda, your words take me into your warm morning embrace with your cats!
Hi Linda,
What a powerful yet gentle understanding. I think I’m used to being told that light breaks the darkness. But this is a beautiful approach to knowing and acknowledging both!
🧡