Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may 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. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. 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.
Host
Barbara Edler taught English Language Arts, Speech & Drama, and TAG students for forty-two and a half years. Although she misses the classroom, she keeps busy as The Keokuk Art Center’s Executive Director where she enjoys planning artistic endeavors and hosting artist receptions. She loves to write poetry, flash fiction and more. You can find some of her poetry published in editions of Lyrical Iowa and Grant Wood Country Chronicle, and the book Teacher-Poets Writing to Bridge the Distance: An Oral History of COVID-19 in Poems which was published due to the efforts of Dr. Sarah J. Donovan and Caroline Lopez. She’s a firm believer in karma and follows her Great-Aunt Adeline’s advice: “When you’re at the end of your rope, tie a knot, and hang on.”
Inspiration
Recently I was introduced to Ada Limón’s poem “How to Triumph Like a Girl” which can be found here. I admire this poem on so many levels, but I especially appreciate the imagery, voice, and celebration of “girl power.” Today, think of something or someone who inspires you, or write about a power you have witnessed in yourself or someone else. For example, write about the power of a parent, a fear you may possess, the helpful or not-so-helpful neighbor next door, the amazing power of friendship, the power of laughter, etc. Although this poem is all about “girl power,” your poem does not need to be gender specific.
Process
- Ask yourself who or what inspires you?
- What kind of powers amaze you? What kind of powers do you or another possess?
- Consider looking for a photograph of your chosen topic and carefully observe it. Take note of the imagery, sensory details, and the perspective the photograph reveals.
- Think about the voice you want to use. Is it your voice or someone else’s voice? Include the language the speaker would use to capture the voice.
- The length of the poem is up to you. Consider a particular poetry format if that helps you to write your poem such as a pantoum, nonet, or triolet. Feel free to write about anything your heart desires.
Barb’s Poem
A favorite moment I remember well: CAITLIN CLARK BUZZER BEATER FTW 🚨 – YouTube
Pandemonium
I like the women’s team best,
how they can drop a three so easily
pivot, shift; then swish
like driving the Needle Highway
sipping fine wine in Italy
it’s a wonder to behold
admiring their energy, the beautiful way
they fly across the floor,
acting like they’re driving for the basket
but then it’s a pass, Monica dunks, crowd goes wild
soaring back, Gabby’s hands, quick like a snake bite
steals the ball, her gorgeous eyes glitter
She’s the pretty one
but at the end of the game
when everything looks like its gone astray
cuz they’re behind; we fear the worse
then watch amazed Kate’s hard to Caitlin
who’s effortlessly escaped her opponent
heaves a three before the buzzer rings—
chaos erupts…..oh heck, yes, another
victory!
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. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. 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. For suggestions on how to comment with care. See this graphic.
Crushing it, she holds court –
While quiet, I escort her in
And hold myself within
Skittish in my own skin. She laughs.
Graceful, taps her ash.
Around the place, I flash my eyes,
Avert them to disguise
The fact that I despise myself.
Hi Barb,
Thank you for the two days of wonderfully thought provoking prompts! Your poem made me want to watch basketball (I never watch!) The flow/pace felt palpable.
I recently ordered Legacy by Nikki Grimes. I hadn’t opened it until this morning after I read your prompt. I hoped it would inspire me as much as everything else Nikki writes. I was right! The first poem in her book is where I pulled my inspiration for my Golden Shovel! Nikki Grimes, you continue to inspire me and this one is for you and all the others who came before you!
Nikki Grimes poem “Whatever” and the strike line is: The women in our race have always gone from strength to strength.
Gifts of Strength
When I pause and inhale deeply, the
air I hold is for all the courageous women
who lost the gift of breath in
their fight for, not only their rights, but our
rights to thrive. Fighting to win this inequitable race
for freedom and justice, and to have
peace over fear. Being a Black woman in America always
leaves scars until the day when we have gone
to glory. Then we will sing hallelujah from
the depths of our survivor’s strength
from the peaks of our greatest joys to
summon what our daughters need, strength.
©Stacey L. Joy, September 19, 2023
Stacey, Wow! I love the line you chose for your Golden Shovel poem. I am definitely putting Legacy on my to-read list. Your line “Being a Black woman in America always/leaves scars until the day when we have gone/to glory.” is riveting. Love the power you share of these women and their “Gifts of Strengths”. Thank you for sharing such an amazing poem full of righteousness and power. I believe you are fearless, Stacey. Keep fighting!
Stacey. I love Nikki Grimes. Her books have helped me be a better teacher over the years. And it was her verse novel Words with Wings that made me feel seen as a spacey kid/woman always dreaming and not listening to my teachers. This poem is so powerful in the breath in and leaves scars. In the “we will sing” and “greatest joys to summon”. Ms. Grimes would be honored by your verse, dear Stacey. And I am listening and witnessing with humility. Strength for “our/daughters”. Yes.
Stacey,
The first poet I thought about after seeing Barb’s prompt this morning is Maya Angelou and her poem “Phenomenal Woman.” Then I thought about Lucille Clifton and that wonderful poem about hips. Ken and I have had many discussions about the ways black women are doing the work to save democracy. You, my friend, are one w/ those amazing women, and so I’m telling you every word of your amazing poem touches my heart. I love the strike line. Thank you for these truths. ❤️
Excellent my sistah!. I too, will order this book. Thanks for sharing a golden shovel. I’ll have to remember to use it for often. This part right here “Then we will sing hallelujah from
the depths of our survivor’s strength
from the peaks of our greatest joys to
summon what our daughters need, strength.”
That says it all and its what we want for our children, to have the strength to survive despite all the generational trauma.
My Loves
Two daughters, six years between,
Night and day, sometimes it seemed.
One full of adventure, always seeking a thrill
climbed on tables before she could walk,
swung from uneven bars by the time she could talk.
My gymnast she would be.
The younger, more cautious
building with Legos,
designing and refining always kept her smiling.
When she wasn’t constructing
she could be found writing.
My scholar she would be.
Two daughters, six years between,
Night and day, sometimes it seemed.
Except when it comes to their hearts.
Compassion and kindness drive them both.
Always open to help those in need and
while their interests may sometimes
differ, sisterly love always holds.
Tammi, I really enjoyed this! You crafted such vivid and distinct descriptions of your daughters: “climbed on tables before she could walk, / swung from uneven bars by the time she could talk” and “building with Legos, / designing and refining always kept her smiling.” And I love the ending, too: “Always open to help those in need and / while their interests may sometimes / differ, sisterly love always holds.” Beautiful!
Tammi, what a beautiful tribute to your daughters. I love how your poem moves so effortlessly due to the rhyming and word choice. “Compassion and kindness drive them both.” Wow, that is truly wonderful. You must be very proud. Love your closing image! Thank you for sharing this gorgeous poem!
Tammi, I so appreciate meeting these sisters from the perspective of the mother. I am struck by your reading of their ways of being in the world and can’t help but think about their reading of this poem. Would they see the same and is this why “sisterly love always holds”? With seven sisters, I bring my own context to this verse. Thank you.
Tammi, We both felt the need to write today about our daughters. I Loved your poem. MY favorite lines, “Except when it comes to their hearts.
Compassion and kindness drive them both.” I’m sure they learned that from their mother.
Bravo !!
I didn’t realize how emotional I’d get! I was at a prenatal appt this afternoon waiting for the obgyn to come in, so my drafting led me down memory lane of the birthing experience I had my first go round four years ago…
Mi Cuerpo, Mi Niño
Thirty hours of labor,
determined to deliver
unmedicated
back labor and
absolute exhaustion
enveloped me
“mama, you don’t get a plaque
for accepting the epidural; your baby
is your reward”
there was power
in the feral cries
of acceptance,
in the pushing and
heaving and breathing
and squeezing and
nothing.
there was power, too,
in the defeated wails
of surrendering,
in the cutting and
shredding and bleeding
and stitching and
birthing.
Beautiful, Britt, beautiful.
i am a weird one that loved labor, and you capture it skillfully. All the rough, hard action words then switching to the dramatic shift to verb of all verbs.…
Wow, Britt! Your poem is so raw. The verbs you chose in your last stanza are so powerful.
Britt,
It has been 16 years since my youngest was born, but I can still remember the pain and screaming you describe. That last stanza is visceral and so authentic. You have absolutely captured birthing.
Oh, Britt, wow. This is so raw and gorgeous. Yes, there is sooo much power.
These words….”cutting and
shredding and bleeding
and stitching and
birthing.” wow
Oooooh how I love this! I, too, hoped to get through without an epidural but it was no bueno for me! Your verbs bring me right into the room with you, four years ago…still feeling it!
I pray that your next delivery is quicker and easier. My first was a C-section and my second wasn’t so I was really not knowing what to do. LOL. You got this!
Britt, the pain of birth radiates throughout your poem. I understand back labor. Your word choice is indelible. I felt completely pulled into the delivery room. “surrendering, in the cutting and/shredding and bleeding/and stitching and/ birthing….Wow! What an amazing end! Magnificent poem! Good luck with your pregnancy and congratulations. After reading your poem, it shows how strong you are.
Britt, I am deeply grateful for your poem and the context of the writing. This is so moving to me the way our writing stirs the present and past into a new poem. This is both a scene of what was and what is, and I feel such privilege in witnessing a knowing. Yes, this is birthing. Which I do not know personally but have a poem as testimony from you. Thank you.
My Daughters
Brave Thoughtful Loving Stubborn Fearless
Sweet, Triumphant, yet also Vulnerable
My oldest told me at thirteen that she
wanted to go to London with her English
class over Spring Break. I thought, “NO,
and was overruled.
Between payment plans, my husband and
generous parents, she went to London.
Three years later, again through school, she went to
Spain and Morocco as soon as the semester ended.
What does it take to be that brave, insightful and
forward thinking?
I had a chance to go to Europe one Summer back in the
80s but fear, worry, and the unknown kept me in
the states.
My youngest, seeing her sister’s itineraries, went to China
in high school also on a school trip without hesitation or dismay.
She follows in her sister and my mother’s footsteps of wanting
to see the world and having a wandering spirit.
Between the two of them, they pursued and did study abroads in Seoul, Brazil, Northern England and taught in Thailand for a year. They’ve also solo traveled to other countries a few times.
Proud doesn’t even begin to cover how their father and I feel about all of their mostly successful endeavors. They’re blessed with wisdom, a spirit of adventure, and wandering hearts. Yet they’re considerate and concerned about their parents who are on the onramp of the aging highway.
I’m currently planning my first trip to Europe for Summer of 2024.
By Seana Hurd Wright
Seana, your writing says as much about you as it does about your daughters. They are wonderfully independent and intelligent young women. You are responsible for that! What an amazing mother you must be to have instilled so many wonderful values in them. Have a great trip!
Seana,
It sounds like your daughters have been on amazing adventures, and they are strong and confident. Just what every mother wishes for her daughters to be.
So happy to hear that your dreams of travel are coming true too!
Seana, this is incredible! It sounds like your daughters have had some wonderful adventures! I love this moment in your poem, too: “They’re blessed with wisdom, a spirit of adventure, and wandering hearts. Yet they’re considerate and concerned about their / parents who are on the onramp of the aging highway.”
Seana, I love that our daughters are growing up braver and more adventurous than we were. This is so precious! Here’s to powerful daughters.
Seana,
I am glad you are planning your first trip to Europe! I think our generation stayed on the safe side of just about everything. From careers to marriages, to everything fun! We now get to watch our children live freely, less restraints, and definitely more exciting lives.
I love your daughters lives and can’t wait to see how much fun you have in Europe!
Seana, your poem is full of love and awe. I love that your daughters are so intrepid and that you are now also planning your first trip to Europe. We have that in common as my first trip to Europe is planned for May of 2024. Your daughters’ travels are incredible. I can only imagine what it must be like to teach in Thailand. Wishing you continued safe travels and wonderful adventures!
Seana. I have so many feels now from this poem. I feel your pride in your children and in yourself for nurturing their spirit and respect for shaping and being shaped by the world. And it seems that you children have inspired you. Wouldn’t it be glorious to have a writing adventure across Europe for our group ?
Seana,
Uou are the source of your daughters’ strength. You empowered them to be strong and curious. You found ways to put them in life’s journey exploring the world. Your daughters have had the internet to inspire them; that’s a game changer not available in the 1980s, so give yourself grace and pack your bags. You’re about to get bitten by the travel bug! Enjoy the journey!
Thank you again, Barb! I am back with a poem. While I have strong women in my life, I wanted to learn about someone new. So, let me introduce Rani Lakshmi Bai, or Queen of Jhansi. The rhyming and rhythm need a bit more work though.
An Indian Icon, Rani of Jhansi
In Jhansi’s heart, a lioness dwells,
Rani Lakshmi Bai, tale of valor tells.
Raised amongst the boys, she learned
Martial arts, archery, and using a sword.
Brought up within the Peshwa’s noble kin,
She honed her skills, a warrior from within.
When fate took her beloved king away,
Rani vowed to fight, no price was too high.
Against the British rule, she firmly rose,
Defying norms, facing the fierce foes.
With son strapped to her back, she fought
Country’s freedom at forefront of her thought.
Rani of Jhansi, known as Indian Joan of Arc,
Your courage and strength left a prominent mark.
There’s so much to love about your poem, Leilya!! I’m so intrigued and want to learn more about Rani of Jhansi. You share so much of the power and strength in this woman in such few words.
Thanks for teaching me about Rani of Jhansi. She sounds amazing!
Leilya,
What a courageous woman! I love this image,”With son strapped to her back, she fought
Country’s freedom at forefront of her thought.” Thank you for introducing me to Rani oh Jhansi.
Leilya, what a great idea for a poem, to learn about someone new. With her son strapped on her back! Yikes! It makes one realize how difficult her situation must have been. And a sonnet! Nice job doing the research for this beauty.
Leilya, I love your poem and how effectively you show Rani Lakshmi Bai to your readers. I think your rhyme scheme is wonderful. I have never heard of this amazing woman and now I’m looking forward to searching for more information about her. I love your final line: “Your courage and strength left a prominent mark”. Beautiful poem. Thank you for sharing!
Leilya, this is a beautiful biographical poem. I love learning from/with poetry.
Leilya,
I learned about a new shero in your sonnet this evening. Thank you. This is the peewee of poetry, the telling of stories and truths. The final couplet is my favorite lines. Now I must learn more about Rani of Jhansi.
Living to Be the Best
A man with no legs
wheels himself up a long steep hill
while sitting in his wheelchair.
“My daily workout!”
Living to be the best.
A student with no arms
painting in my art class
using his teeth to hold the brush.
“Creating beauty!”
Living to be the best.
A war veteran
missing a leg
replaced with a prothesis.
“The children are fascinated!”
Living to be the best.
Just me after knee surgery
being depressed at home
until I am inspired by
the war veteran,
the armless student,
the man in the wheelchair
that can do everything.
Living to be the best.
Susan, thank you for reminding me that regardless of what we face, we have to be “[l]iving to be the best.” It also reminded me of the time when I worked with the blind kids. I felt like you often, admiring how outstanding and fearless those kids were. One of them once told me: “You learn to live with what you have without finding excuses for things we didn’t even try to accomplish.” Hearing it from a 15-year-old, I felt so hopeful. Thank you for your poem that brought up these memories.
Susan, what a grace to bear witness to other lives and experiences. Such power in allowing those experiences to shape us and shift our perspective. Thank you for sharing.
Oh, how we can fall into self-pity until someone or more than one someone slaps us with their bravery and inspires us to be more.
Susan,
I love the positive message of your poem. The repetition of “Living to be the best” is a great reminder for us all. Wishing you speedy healing!
Oh, Susan, I love the message here. Your inspiration coming from the courageous ones you know. All the best as you continue being courageous yourself.
Susan, I love how you show the tribulations each of these people face, but who are “Living to be the best”. It’s great that you have been able to be inspired by them. It’s easy to get depressed and frustrated after a major surgery. I hope you are healing well. Keep up the fight to “be the best”!
When Asked What Superpower I Would Want
I can remember circling
the student lot at
Pray-Harrold
wishing that I had
the superpower
of being able to find
a close parking spot
I didn’t need to fly
or become invisible
or move things with
my mind
I just needed
to find parking
because I was
perpetually running
late and class started
in like five minutes
But not now,
now I’d wish
to have the
Powers of
Persuasion
I want the power
of the Movie Coach
marshaling his
losing team
to victory
I want the power
of Henry V
before the battle
of Agincourt,
the ability to
perform
my own St.
Crispin’s Day
speech
if I could
I’d softly
whisper
into the hollow
of your neck
or crook of
your elbow
take your
skin
to mine
the palm of
your hand
pressed to
my lips
as I plead
with your
immune
system
imploring
it to get
its shit
together
to importune
this complex
system of
organs, cells,
and proteins
that are supposed
to defend the
body against
infection to
ask it quite
deliberately
insistently
to stop
attacking
itself
to stop
attacking
healthy
tissue
because
the issue
here, guys,
Is that you’re
like The Bad News
Bears or Keystone
Cops or some other
bumbling organization
that just can’t figure out
the right way to
do your job
(and this would
be funny except
it’s the complete
opposite of that)
or what if your
immune system
is just too good
over active
super competitive
what if it’s
That Guy
you know the one
the one who has
to win Employee
Of The Month
Every
Single
Month
the one who
crushes his
opposition
in everything
he does and who
you also suspect
is the Jackass
who has been
stealing your
clearly labeled
yogurt from the
office fridge
I could still use
my Powers of
Persuasion to
ask him to
kick back
slow down
take it easy
because
Fatigue,
Joint Pain,
Mental Fog,
Skin Lesions,
Organ Failure
isn’t great
so, I’ve realized
that being able
to put an end
to all that
would be
way better
than getting
some lousy
parking spot
__________________________________________________________
Thank you Barb for another engaging prompt! This kinda got away from me today. I was tinkering with it throughout the day – going from how she inspires me to how, at times, being part of a “support system” can make one feel powerless and this led to what would be an effective superpower to….and so on until I had to finally “call it quits” (without even mentioning the fact that the love of my life has a handicap placard so if she’s having a bad day we generally can “find a close parking spot” anyways, which effectively undercuts and/or complicates (perhaps?) the entire premise of the poem…so it goes…).
Scott— it is so very hard to be the support system, and so worth it. May your Powers of Persuasion succeed and fire that overachieving employee. A touching and oh-so-real poem…thank you.
Scott… a hundred things crowd my mind in response here. To carry over yesterday’s comments – you ARE, and your work IS, always, without fail, delightful. Even when it cuts to the bone like this one. The inability to alleviate a loved one’s pain, to live it every day… I know this too well. Can I just say in my awe after reading this poem: when kids ask me what superpower I’d choose, I reply: healing.
This is so poignant, Scott. In the moment, when we are running late, it can feel as if all we need is a close parking spot but the reality is – we want our loved ones to not be in such pain. I have no doubt that you move mountains for the love of your life – so, ha, you do have superpowers!
Thank you, Scott! I wish we all had this superpower to take away pain and sorrows of our loved ones. Your poem made me think about what’s really important. You have so much love, kindness, and compassion, which are pretty powerful.
Scott, I felt such a gut punch as you got into the meat of your poem. I’m so accustomed to your smart, wry wit and to have real life bubble up so distinctly. Wow. Thinking of you as you deal with such difficulty.
Scott,
These stanzas are riveting and heart wrenching.
I’d softly
whisper
into the hollow
of your neck
or crook of
your elbow
take your
skin
to mine
the palm of
your hand
pressed to
my lips
as I plead
with your
immune
system
My mother lived with MS for thirty five years before she passed. My father was her support system and caregiver until the end. I know he often felt powerless too. It is so hard to watch a loved one suffer.
Thank you for sharing your desire to cure these incredible ailments. I can understand wanting to have a power that simplifies one’s life, but recognizing there are far more important things to focus on. Being the caretaker can be physically and mentally exhausting. Thank you for sharing your story today.
Scott. First, sending comfort. And I am so grateful to you for this poem that traces the wishes and wants and utter realities of the teacher does need that parking space be because we need a win or relief or something to just be easy when our love hurts and everything is, just is.
Scott,
Loved this poem!
Inspiration Haiku
By Mo Daley 9/19/23
slowly falling rain,
bird calls, sun on the prairie,
nature fuels my soul
I can picture this scene and I’m nurtured in my soul as a result of reading your haiku.
Beautiful haiku, Mo. Nature is inspiring.
Nature is the triumph, yes! Beautiful haiku, Mo.
We are Nature’s children, Mo. Thank you for this beautiful tribute to it. Love it!
Mo,
Gorgeous haiku filled with all the beauty of nature around you.
🍃
Mo,
I am comforted that the rain fell in your poem while it was falling outside my window. The second line of bird and sun responded is lovely, surfacing the ways nature wants to nourish us if we only notice.
how to triumph in community
be like trees
together
where
reaching out is deeply rooted
seek one another
listen intently
lift the weaker other
by holding tight
encircle each other
so that life’s necessities
are shared
everyone grows
together
Maureen,
Your final couplet is a perfect reminder of how much we need to be part of community and how much we can learn from trees. Beautiful poem.
Maureen, your poem effectively touches on the beauty of a community working together. The importance of “listen intently” is key. Just as we read and listen here, I feel a strong sense of some individuals holding tight and feel especially blessed by their tender embrace. Your closing words “everyone grows/together”‘ is absolutely gorgeous. Thank you for sharing your powerful poem and wisdom.
Maureen, this is gorgeous. It reminds me of a part in one of my novel studies when the father tells the daughter their family is like the oak tree, roots running deep. Trees are beautiful reminders of strength, perseverance, resilience, and so much more of what HUMANITY needs!
Thank you, Maureen. I love this community here and it feels reassuring to be supported by and supportive to so many of us all the time.
Maureen, the imagery is rich with the intertwining power of a supportive community, these trees. The last line says it all – – yes, we must grow together, for if we don’t, we surely grow apart.
Oh, Maureen, such an important thought today. Thank you. I’m in the Midwest now, taking a lot of woodsy walks, so I can appreciate the strength of the trees’ community and will think about your poem later when I’m out. “everyone grows / together” is a rich reminder and hope for humanity.
Maureen— the last two stanzas could solve so many problems. If only we were willing…
I have read about this secret life of trees, Maureen. You have reminded me that we have so much to learn from nature. Let’s hold each other tight.
Thank you, Maureen! Unity and belonging are vital to any community. My favorite lines are: “lift the weaker other / by holding tight.”
Barb,
I love both the Ada Limon poem and your poem. I remember your excitement as the Iowa Women’s team excelled last year. I hope you’ll send your poem to them. I think they’ll love being immortalized this way! You have choreographed a ballet of words in honor of the team.
Today I’m obsessed with all the ways those with power are trying to move women back in time to the days of limited rights and unheard voices. They do this in unholy ways I believe dishonor women throughout history. I’m also thinking about the ways women experience passive silencing in various places, both face to face and in virtual spaces. I want to honor all the women who are fighting the good fight, running the long race, and writing their own stories, as well as those lifting the voices of all our sisters.
Hey, Gurl,
you know the stories &
characters assigned to
you at birth: flat, quiet
girls who know their place
upstage or gathering grain
like naomi&ruth behind boaz.
Hey, Gurl,
you’ve been typecast since
conception, defined by your
genitalia, called precious princess
when you learn your lines,
speak on cue, hit all the right marks
written in the gender kjv script.
Hey, Gurl,
you better not protest or complain.
villains await in the wings
ready to upstage you & your sisters
prepared to clap your mouth
shut with a scold’s bridle, branks
to humiliate and castigate you.
Hey, Gurl,
time to write your own story,
put your name on the marque.
you’re the star of this poem,
somebody in the patriarchal
land of nobody men lounging in
the detritus of their own his-story.
–Glenda Funk
19 September 2023
Glenda, wow, your poem is rich with truth, allusions, and power. There’s nothing more frustrating than being typecast or being silenced because of your gender. I adore your word choice throughout. There’s something castigating about “Hey, Gurl” as though the speaker is diminishing the very presence of the female due to the tone and lack of a name suggesting that the “gurl” is a thing rather than a human with thoughts, desires, and abilities. What a gift of poetry you have bestowed on us today. Love the lines, “speak on cue, hit all the right marks
written in the gender kjv script.”
How do we break this cycle? How do we get men to see when they are taking selfishly and doing little to break these exhausting behaviors?
On a side note, I’m currently reading Lessons in Chemistry. You’re such a diverse reader so you may have already read this one, but if there is a chance you haven’t, I think you would enjoy it because it has a lot to do with the treatment of a female scientist who is brilliant!
I hope you will continue to share your poem with others. I’m sure some students might have a lively discussion reading your poem:)
I loved Lessons in Chemistry! Have you read “When Women Were Dragons”? Amazing book!!!
Glenda,
Friend!!! You nailed it! Every verse has a stroke of power, and I love the Boaz nod to Ruth and Naomi. That last verse is so uniquely you, applauding the power of WOMANhood! Oh, the stories that come to mind with one in my community who believes that if he snaps, women should stand at the ready to make him look good. It’s been interesting to watch the ones who haven’t figured it out yet actually figure out that he claims to be a team until there’s a spotlight to be taken. Your poem rings true, and cheers to all the Gurls who are the stars of the poem!
Wow, Gurl! This is sizzling with disdain for the “nobody men lounging in / the detritus of their own his-story” and those who are
“prepared to clap your mouth
shut with a scold’s bridle”
Good for you! Thank you!
Glenda— we certainly share some experiences!
love this:
prepared to clap your mouth
shut with a scold’s bridle, branks
to humiliate and castigate you.
wow!!
You are someone who is fighting the good fight, Glenda! Love this. I adore the repetition of “Hey, Gurl,” adding this sense that we are in the midst of a very dear and confidential conversation. Love –
Glenda, you are this independent, strong, determined, and self-content “Gurl” writing “your own story.” I am constantly amazed at your ability to stand up for those who need your strength and support. Thank you, friend!
Glenda, GUUUURRRRRL! You nailed this!!
I want this poem to be recited by a group of powerful girls/women/humans! These lines might need to be on my classroom wall! Hmmmm……..Canva……..credit to Glenda Gurl of course!
👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽
I am really seeing your poetry being identifiable. You, dear poet, speak the truth unapologetically. And the Gurl in me waiting to be the star of this poem is shining.
Here’s my rough draft–My daughter is taking some time off to go to lunch and we’re off.
Generations
My grandma was quiet,
fragile, and seemed to lean
on her daughter to provide
strength, muscles, and purpose.
Her daughter, my mom,
of my grandma, but not her
Mom would have loved to study
architecture, but she married instead.
Finished raising her family–five still
in the next when her husband died.
Me, of my mom, but not her
I went to college and finished
even if it took 6.5 years and
ended in a geography degree,
the first B.A. in my family
My daughter, of me, but not me
She just came down the stairs
hair slicked back in a pony donning
a stylish sweater and sweats below
grabs the coffee we brought home
then returns to her home office
She’s a marketing director because
she asked for the title and salary to
match her responsibilities–she makes
things happen, rather than watches
My daughter, of me, but not me
Gradually, the women in our family
become more powerful
Denise— your path and mine are so similar— including the daughter working from home! Truly, we do pass down our strengths from generation to generation—of, but not…
Denise,
I love the way this poem both honors the women in your family and shows women finding their own way, writing their own stories. The repetition is a chorus of praise for women, a way of lifting voices. It’s simply beautiful and gentle and powerful.
Denise, what a wonderful tribute to your daughter! I love that “she makes/things happen, rather than watches” and I’m sure that has a lot to do with your guidance. I love how you capture your daughter in this current moment and how you share the history of your mother and yourself. There’s so much hope at the close of your poem! Truly uplifting and powerful!
Denise, I love the story of your generations, in both the sense of increasing power and in the honoring that we are our own selves, of our mothers but not them. Ultimately we don’t walk in their shoes; we live in the circumstances of our own times and make our own way. So important to remember this with respect to those following us! This is such a celebratory ode.
This is really true! This progression of women through generations has been just like mine.Yes, we women are getting our power!
I love the meandering way of
and then how you move through the generations, and “of me, but not me” repeats… This wordplay both forces me to read more slowly to understand who-is-who, and to absorb how women’s lives and choices have changed over time. Bravo to a daughter who “asked for the title and salary” … I wonder what your grandmother would think of such assertiveness! Isn’t it wonderful to watch this next generation take on the world? Love this, Denise
Denise, I love how you structured your poem and walked us through four generations beginning with your grandma. You managed to show the strength of each one of you. I am also wondering about your grandmother. Maybe, as we get older, we become fragile and quiet letting our children to take over. You just got me thinking )) I can imagine how proud you are of your daughter, “who makes things happen.” Thank you!
From:
Mountain Lion Motivational ( Accounts of a Triumphant Heart)
Withstand
For the vicious scream of my anger,
Never matched the sins of my danger,
For I am the one that owns the mountain,
The one that has searched the ravine,
The one that has climbed the Long leaf,
To the top of needle green.
My teeth grind with anticipation,
As I wait for my predation,
Roaring with my neck bent,
Thrashing defeat on a lesser opponent.
Grasping his ribcage – I snatch out his pulsing heart,
To acquire the next challenge,
To obtain my fresh start.
Eyes dilate as the warm blood flows down my chin,
Eyes widen,
As I soak in the win.
As for he endures,
I am alive,
I withstand,
I survive.
Boxer, wow, your poem gives me the shivers. I love your poem’s intensity! The language is powerful and action packed. I can clearly visualize “Eyes dilate as the warm blood flows down my chin,
Eyes widen,
As I soak in the win.”
Then you end with “I survive” which makes me think about how you could interpret your poem in a variety of ways. Ahhhhh, the “vicious scream”…how I know that barbaric cry!
Outstanding poem! Thanks for sharing!
Barb, what a wonderful prompt. Your questions immediately prompted me to want to recognize all the high school students I work with that despite the trauma they face at home, despite the learning how to live with grief, despite the struggles they face from their peers at school…they still show up to school. And they show up every day. These students will never know the positive impact their strength (whether they think it is strength or not) has on me for feeding strength into my own life of facing trauma, grief, and unkind coworkers.
You are Stronger than You Know – A Triolet
You are wrecked and woed, but you still come;
gaping holes in place of where part of you died.
Hiding in drunkeness — they call you names and say you’re dumb.
You are wrecked and woed, but you still come;
every day, despite the tide darkness does humm.
Maybe unwashed, unkempt — the others preside.
You are wrecked and woed, but you still come;
gaping holes in place of where part of you died.
Amber—beautiful tribute! I taught those girls, and admired them for being there with me. They are so much more than they are given credit for. Gaping holes, indeed.
Straight up truth, Amber. I hope you share this with your students. I love the triolet form for this poem. It works perfectly to create a rhythmic emotion and flow to that still carrying-on fortitude your students exhibit. Tears and hugs! Thank you!
Amber, triolets are so hard to get right – and yours sears straight to the heart. The kids – the suffering – so gut-wrenching, but your title says it all, and they need to know! They have value and ARE valued.
There is such beauty and power in the repetition of “You are wrecked and woed, but you still come”. I wonder how you might share this poem with your students? To post it somewhere in the classroom, to be read in passing? It is an ode to their strength.
We Started the Fire
It was the 1980’s
when we started climbing
corporate ladders,
welcomed for our skills,
but resented for not being men.
In order to succeed we needed to be
Sexy– but not sexual
Business-like–but compliant
Intelligent–but humble
Feminine–but tough
We learned not to complain because it was seen as whining.
We learned to ignore casual sexual remarks tossed our way.
We wore high heels that ruined our feet with dark suits and genteel blouses.
Skirts were preferred by our bosses (usually men), but not too short.
We wore ladylike bows at our throats, and pearls on our earlobes.
We should never, ever cry.
We learned to shake hands firmly,
as we looked our clients in the eye with purpose.
We learned to smile pleasantly
to soften the blow of what we were
before we closed the deal.
Then we went home to do the shopping
and the laundry
and feed the kids
and be a wife
and a mother
and we never ever complained
as we broke down the walls
and built the stairs that led to glass ceilings.
We would bump our heads against those ceilings
again and again
until eventually we broke through.
Rights that are assumed to have been around forever
were earned by the women who came before you.
Strong women, brave women.
And they didn’t even know how brave they were.
They just went to work.
GJSands
9/19/23
this failed to post earlier–these were our goals!!
Wow, what a graphic!
Gayle,
Lots of truth here. We should have burned the patriarchy to the ground instead of playing nice. Remember shoulder pads? Gag! But I did complain and rebel. I’ve always done that. I wish more women would. Anyway, we’re in sync today. Love your poem, sister!
We were in the same head space!!
“And they didn’t even know how brave they were.
They just went to work.” Wow, Gayle, I love this. Your poem shows the difficulty females face within a career and how much they must give to keep the family together. I appreciated how you stacked those chores in your second to last stanza. I could feel those heads bumping on the ceiling and felt saddened by the truth that they really did not realize how brave they were. Stunning, powerful poem! Thank you!
Gayle, thank you for honoring these women! Your poem is rich in detail from head to toe, office to home. I love…”And they didn’t even know how brave they were.” So many disappointments behind us, but the future is brighter because of them. I think of Geraldine Ferraro, who wasn’t taken seriously at all. Then came Hillary Clinton and Kamala Harris, who also aren’t taken seriously, but they also are because they broke ceilings and make the way for future women. Our children and grandchildren will have even greater opportunities. Thank you for this lovely poem highlighting that arduous herstory.
Your poem is beautifully coupled with Denise’s, I think…how women have changed the working world over time. I love the lines
We wanted more, and we stretched to do it, to gain this. And the generations of women to follow are making ever more impressive changes, I think…
I love this Gayle, I am going to have to share this with my mother, who was one of these ladies of the 1980’s. The use of the repeated and really hammers home the overwhelming role of these ladies.
Bravo, Gayle. Love it all, but the power is theee lines is wow…
Gayle, This poem made me emotional. I remember so well the descriptions of how we had to dress, wear those high heels, look the client in the eye, sexy but ignoring those sexist remarks. I am so glad that we have persevered and many have broken through the glass ceiling. Thanks for the memories!
Barb, what an opportunity we have here with those like you who invite us to give thanks and praise to others! Well, I thank my daughter for inviting me to travel with her to Denmark, but I have limited time online, so I haven’t been as active this month. But, when prompted to write a poem of thanks, I asked to use the hotel’s one lobby computer! Here’s my poem in honor the school headmaster (principal) who hired me to teach the same year Susan Osborn joined the faculty there. (Susan and her sister, Nancy White, now meet with us on OPEN WRITE.)
HE DIDN’T HAVE TO DO!
He didn’t have to do it, but he did!
In eighty years, there’d not been a teacher there like me!
But he hired me anyway.
When parents protested, he said,
“She’s here to stay! “
He didn’t have to, but he did!
I asked to celebrate Black History Month.
He approved and funded the program.
Some faculty protested,
But he didn’t give a d…
He didn’t have do it, but he did.
When I was chosen for teacher exchange to East Africa,
“For four weeks! She’s got some cheek!”
“She’s going! Her sub plans will keep her students on track.
She’ll catch them up when she gets back.”
He didn’t to have to do it, but he did.
Siblings of former students asked to take a class “with her”.
And faculty longed to have, to have my students next.
Over time, neither group seemed so very vexed,
Just because he did it!
And God gave me courage
And God gave me strength
Persistence to stick with it.
I am standing up and applauding— for both of you!! What a tribute to him. And to you…
Anna, your poem deeply moved me. I always enjoy your poetry, but this one is so endearing. I am so proud of you for showing strength and doing your all to be a wonderful instructor. I am so happy you had a powerful leader making things possible for you as well. It certainly does help to have someone who supports you and who has your back. Bless you for sharing your story in this poem and for taking the time to find a way to share with all of us today. Thank you! Thank you!
Anna, hooray for you and your supportive administrator. What a powerful narrative you wrote here. Kudos!
“He didn’t to have to do it, but he did.” Awesome! This is wonderful to read; thank you for sharing this.
Anna,
I think you really touch on how the magic happens when people step out of their comfort zone for others, to give others a chance. The last couple stanzas really show the ripple effect of his kindness, and how you impacted others as well!
Glad to read this poem, Anna. Boy, those were special days! You are in Denmark? Lucky you! That is the home of some of my family. Enjpoy!
Barb! I love this prompt. There are so many different directions a write can go, but there is great unity in theme. Caitlyn Clark is something to behold, so I love your insider look at things.
My Friend Cheryl
I marvel at her strength and positivity
her will to live
her daily “F you!”
to the tumors and toxic cells
that mate and replicate in her gut
extending to her spine and neighboring organs
Every day she gets out of bed
and drives 20 miles to teach.
Every day she comes home
and lets Archie lead her on a
four-mile walk along the river.
Her diagnosis was grim from the start.
Months to live.
Inoperable.
Terminal.
Shock
Denial
Resistance to accept help.
Radiation
Chemo
Scan
Chemo pack
Scan
Chemo pill
Scan
Repeat.
One day she woke up and told herself
“I can die from cancer OR
I can live with cancer.”
So, she approaches each day
with moxie and strength.
she travels to see her daughters
she travels to see places she hasn’t
she drinks her beloved Miller Light
she enjoys Friday carryout from Los Bravos.
She lives.
With a terminal diagnosis,
she lives.
We are taking a trip over Fall Break.
“I’ve never been to Asheville”
she says,
a heavy cloud of foreboding
coating her words.
“Well, let’s go to Asheville then!”
I reply.
We sit side-by-side
shoulder-to-shoulder
on our couch
looking at Airbnb choices.
Planning this trip is rebellion.
It’s a refusal to cave in to the pain,
the depression, the “Why me?”s,
the results of the most recent scans and bloodwork.
Every day she chooses to live . . .
not just survive but live.
Every day she chooses to live,
she shows the rest of us
how to live.
~Susan Ahlbrand
19 September
Susan, this is heartwrenching and hopeful all at once. I love the will to live with cancer rather than dying from it. It reminds me of a movie I saw (Love at First Sight) where the cancer patient decides to have her memorial service before she dies so she can see all of her favorite people and hear what they have to say about her. I’m thinking of your friend Cheryl, and I’m hoping your trip to Asheville is a beautiful experience of being in the moment.
Susan— the courage she has and the love you have for her. So much to learn here.
Oh, Susan, wow, your poem steals my breath. My tears are flowing. I love how you share your friend’s determination to live despite her diagnosis and the exhaustion she most likely feels. Sending you a warm hug. Thank you for sharing this outstanding poem of love and courage!
Oh, Susan and Cheryl, have a great trip to Asheville, and may there be many, many more days to rebel and live fully! Susan, this poem is such a beautiful tribute to Cheryl.
Your friend is brave and strong! I’m so sorry she is on this cancer journey – and so glad you are there to support her. It’s true, “Planning this trip is rebellion” – and sweet rebellion, it is. So incredible to face her disease “with moxie and strength.” Wishing her well!
Susan,
Thanks for giving us a look at another hero. I like the subtle role you played in helping her shake off the foreboding, and how you are a quiet assistant to her heroism: side-by-side, shoulder-to shoulder. I like the subtle repeat of every day and live in the last stanza, as it makes a point of it being about living, especially after listing her med struggles earlier.
Hi, Barb! Such a great prompt, and your poem took me right to the basketball court. What a dynamic within a poem! I had no doubts it would be “oh heck, yes, another / victory!”
Sorry, gotta run to class. Yesterday and today are so hectic, but I will write later tonight. Thank you for this treat!
Bless you, Leilya. Hope you’re having a fantastic time with your students:)
Barb, wow, the video clip! With the powerful similes and imagery, the obvious love and respect you have for those girls is palpable in your poem. Well done. I love “quick like a snake bite.” Barb, I love your bio photo. It looks like retirement is being good to you!
I’ll be back later to write a poem.
Thank you, Denise. Your compliments are generous and appreciate the grace you share here with all of us!
Thanks for the prompt today, Barb. The only think better than victory is victory at Carver Hawkeye! I wrote this one about four or five days ago very purposefully for somebody close to me, and maybe for me as well. You having chosen heroics was a sign for me to use it.
THE JOY I KNOW
Sometime the umbrellas
are just beyond the reaching out,
but they are so there,
in a darkness of waiting to help
purposeful and dry, well intentioned
but not knowing of the storms,
and the thunder and lightning comes uninvited.
People are more complex than umbrellas,
but simpler in their functioning oblivion,
they are so there,
in a darkness of wanting to help
purposeful and connected, well intentioned
but not knowing of the storms,
and the shadows and silences come uninvited.
Heroes don’t always come in the tumult,
the cannon fire, or surging wall of wave
upon wave, amidst a swamping,
heroes often times wake up on a given day,
take a deep breath and step into the sunlight,
facing it, with the same resolve of bracing against the storm
when the umbrellas and friends are just out of reach.
Rex, what a beautiful analogy of readiness to help in a storm! Your word choices build a feeling of safety against the rage of the weather. Beautiful!
Rex, I absolutely love this poem. You’ve captured such an important message about heroes and not knowing when the storms will come. The umbrella metaphor is perfect, and often I feel that those umbrellas and friends are just out of reach and the silence is full of shadows and grief. The line “they are so there, in a darkness of wanting to help/purposeful and connected, well intentioned” is compelling as well as rhythmic in delivery. I hope you will share this with your students! I think you should do a show at the art center. Frame your photos and poems, and we can do an open mic. Outstanding poem full of heroic power! Kudos!
Oh, Rex, I’m glad you had a reason to write this gem five days ago, and that you had a chance to share it with us today. I love the metaphor of umbrellas in the second stanza and that people are more complex and simpler in certain ways. “simpler in their functioning oblivion / they are so there” – Would that we all had those kind of people in our lives.
I love the way you use figurative language in your poem. “sipping fine wine in Italy” “quick like a snake bite.” My draft will need some edits to get metaphors in, but this is a true story from my classroom.
Volleyball Team
Last year in fourth grade
she would skip recess
awkwardly reading in a corner
of my classroom.
Fifth grade offered a volleyball team.
She arrived with a brightly colored volleyball,
tossed it with confidence,
leaning on it while writing.
“I’m on the volleyball team this year.”
We talked about the serve I could never master.
She showed me how it’s done now–
from the palm-up wrist rather than the thumb.
Confidence glows.
I hold in my fears.
“Girls, please accept
her on your court.”
Margaret, this is so heartwarming – – a sweet soul looking for a place to bloom and grow, like a sprig springing forth from a sidewalk. A treasure of a poem – – and such a tribute to the power of interest and identity!
Thanks for the simile. I’ll put it in.
Oh, Margaret, I love the emotions throughout your poem. I can see the shift of excitement with your young student, and your closing lines cry out for something we can all feel is imperative! Thank you for sharing such an important student experience so beautifully!
Margaret, I’m so glad you are there for your students–to listen, to ask questions and to do pray and hope for them. Beautiful. I love the idea of her leaning on the brightly colored volleyball while she writes. It’s a sweet picture.
Margaret- I love this little girl without needing to meet her. What a gift you have given her by letting her teach you, by giving her a corner to read in…
I could never master the serve either, Margaret. Here’s to her finding her place of belonging – and her power.
How wonderful that there is a volleyball team, and she has the determination to be part of it! What a great story. Thank you for sharing.
Barb, I love Limon’s poetry. She’s inspired me to work on some bits to share in the future here. SHE is powerful, her imagery so raw and real – she leaves me awed, time and time again. Triumph, indeed – the feeling is palpable in her poem here and in yours. Such a tribute to women in sports, their aesthetic grace, and oh yes, their power. Victory! – in more ways than one… you have made me think of victorious women in my life. I doubt they ever thought they had any real strength; I know they did. I write in honor of them today. Thank you so much for this invitation.
Daughter of Jewel and Flower
In memory of Ruby and Lillie
I am descended
from strong women
who didn’t contemplate
the height and depth
of their power
they simply lived it
even when
they didn’t believe
they had any power
at all
I am the beneficiary
of their surviving
wars
want
poverty
pregnancy
deprivation
degradation
loss
of various menfolk
to mental illness
and death
of children
to disease
death
and poor choices
yet they donned
their Sunday best
returning thanks
in all things
gave much
when they had little
someone else
always needed more
I think of them most
on the darker days
when I cannot see
the way ahead
remembering
their blood
runs in my veins
the thread of their faith
is stitched into the fabric
of my soul
while we are all, in some way,
broken vessels
love pours out
through every precious crack
never wasted
never ceasing
I am their testament
as is my little granddaughter
reaching her hands up to me
we wear invisible crowns
woven with jewel and flower
I am descended
from strong women
let me take
my place
Fran, chills! And heartbeats of joy! This generational family circle of strength and belonging is so strong here, but the little hands reaching up got me! Yes, you hold such a strong place in your granddaughters’ lives, and it is such a beautiful thing to see the leaves on your tree, coloring the world for all you meet! Lovely!
Oh, Fran! I so loved reading this absolutely gorgeous ode to the strong women in your family line: “we wear invisible crowns / woven with jewel and flower” and “let me take / my place” Wow.
Fran, I absolutely love how your poem flows. The separating the words to emphasize all that your female ancestors suffered and how they gave even when they had little. There is so much love and beauty throughout this poem and I applaud your lines: “the thread of their faith
is stitched into the fabric
of my soul”
Wow, that is such a powerful and vibrant image. Your voice throughout is strong, and you end it perfectly: “let me take/my place”. Yes, I love that self-affirmation and the positive force you share. Gorgeous poem, Fran!
Fran, This is such a wonderful tribute to the women we come from, their resilience, their strength, their hope. “We wear invisible crowns woven with jewel and flower” is a lovely image.
Fran—wow. The drumbeat carries through your poem. And the last stanza…killer!
Your line about being the beneficiary of their surviving is something I can relate to. It provides a sort of perspective on things we inherit from those who are strong in our lives.
Fran,
This is a history lesson, a sociology lesson, and a generational study all rolled up with your beautiful words. I love every bit of it but especially like…
Barb, that’s electric, and I love how you included the YouTube clip so we could see the energy after feeling it in your poem. I still find myself watching the clip you shared last year with the coach stare down! I’m traveling this week for a conference, and 3 of the 5 books I brought along are Limon’s. The more I read her verse, the more I love her, and Triumph Like a Girl is one of my favorites. With her home in the heart of horse country, I know she lives these moments of her writing. Thanks for hosting us today, Barb!
How to Triumph Over Impulse
do nothing but this:
turn your eyes in squint wonder
toward the heavens
Kim, thank you for this beauty. Have a great conference and enjoy Limon! Today I want to practice “turn[ing] my eys in squint wonder / toward the heavens” What a beautiful way to say it, and a perfect way to live.
Kim, your poem is like an important aphorism. I want to memorize this and use it often. It does take great power to resist some things especially impulsive behavior that often leads to regret and reveals a poor decision. The conciseness of your poem adds to the weight and power to your poem. I can just imagine seeing sun streaks through a cloudy sky! Lovely!
Kim,
“squint wonder” is a stellar phrase. One of my favorite things about poetry is how we can mold language into something more specific than it is. I love the uniqueness of that. Your title is fantastic. It offers a promise and then delivers w/ a directive to “do nothing” and do something so simple and easy. I’m reading that something as prayer.
Willpower – I think, “I will lift mine eyes” – it is that pause of breath giving thee strength that overcomes even impulse. Just – bam – you nailed it!
“in squint wonder” – holding this in my heart; I love that phrasing so!!
So few words, Kim, and such power.
I marvel at your skill.
Not ready to write, but I need to bow down to this amazing prompt and poem! I FELT the game!! Hard to follow up on this, my dear!
Thank you, Gayle. I’m sure you will write something amazing today:) I’m looking forward to reading it!
oooooh! What a great prompt. I’m off to fish through a file of photos for inspiration. Love your poem. “quick like a snake bite,” all the way to victory!
Thank you, Linda!
Not even we
thought we
would win
but every
streak begins
with hope
Fabulous ending.
Perfection. Hope springs eternal!
This is what I love so much about the shorter forms. In 16 syllables, you have us believing!
Your poem shares a part of sports I perfectly understand. The wonderful hope of winning more, and sure, your favorite team may be unbeaten now, but there’s a long season ahead.
I like that tug on shedding light on hope being what supports strength.
I love the ending on “hope”! It is vital!