Our Host
Susan Ahlbrand is in her 38th–and LAST–year of teaching 8th grade English/language arts in the small southern Indiana town of Jasper. She finally made the very tough decision to retire and is looking forward to figuring out who she is outside of being a teacher. When not preparing lessons or grading papers, she enjoys reading and writing, binge-watching shows with her husband, attending sporting events, and heading off to visit one of their four kids who are scattered across the Midwest and South. April is her favorite month since it’s filled with daily poetry-writing challenges prepared by the most incredible community of humans.
Inspiration
I LOVE attending Broadway plays, ideally ON Broadway, but I take advantage of going when shows are touring and hit nearby cities. Last month, I saw Hadestown at my alma mater, Indiana University. I was a little confused throughout the production, but as I tend to do, I did lots of rabbit-holing after and found many lyrics that I love. I continue to think about the experience at the theater weeks later. Isn’t that the sign of a powerful story . . . when it lingers?
Process
You have lots of options today.…each based on my experience with seeing Hadestown. Use any form that strikes you.
- Use the lyrics from a favorite Broadway musical of yours to inspire a poem.
- Write about a musical or movie that stuck with you a long time after you saw it.
- Write about returning to your college campus.
- Write about a modern twist on a character from mythology.
- Use these lines from Hadestown to inspire a poem:
“Cause, here’s the thing:
To know how it ends
And still begin to sing it again
As if it might turn out this time
I learned that from a friend of mine”
~Hermes “The Road to Hell II” in Hadestown
Susan’s Poem
To Know How It Ends
To know how it ends
and still begin
is foolish and yet also brave.
to know how it ends
and still begin
is what we all do every day.
To know how it ends
may make the start hard,
putting one foot in front of the other.
it seems futile at times–
to trod the doomed path
instead of taking another.
To know how it ends
is to know that we win–
or maybe that we lose–
yet we still start the game,
still play with all heart,
the outcome . . . we don’t get to choose
To know how it ends
takes a resilient heart,
our kids move out and move on.
yet we give them our best
feeling the strong tether
even after they’re gone.
To know how it ends
takes much hope
knowing we will someday die.
learning it’s about the journey
more than the destination
helps to give us our “why.”
When we reach the end
we always want more
not ready for it to be over.
we hit rewind
to begin again
trying to delay the closure.
~Susan Ahlbrand
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.
Susan! HUGE congrats on retiring and thank you for hosting today. Here is my poem below, for option 3.
Early Arrival to Campus Grounds?
finals are emerging
then the rays of summer will be here
To stay or to go
To see family or spend summer with friends
Would this be another step of independency?
or just separation
would I lose touch with my family?
The concept of independency yet anytime I hear the word family I crumble
my safety net
decisions decisions
I couldn’t do this poem the day it came up but had some free time today to try. I took lines from Marya Hornbacher’s book Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia, which I read multiple times more than 20 years ago. The italicized lines in my poem come directly from the book.
50
I didn’t particularly want to live much longer than that.
It seemed sufficient time to be on this Earth.
I didn’t want to get old.
And Life seemed rather daunting,
Exhausting really,
A huge span of years
Through which one would be required
To tap-dance and smile.
What was even the point of the latter years?
Just continuing the motions
of an unpurposeful
Life seemed too long a time to have to stick around.
53 now
and not enough time remains.
I really liked how the poem ended how it went from someone who has seemed to lost hope to someone who has now regained it. Very beautiful.
“You can’t always control your brain
or your emotions
even when things are perfect”
-Jenny Lawson
It’s hard to express your joy
When your inevitable doom shows to be banging on your doorstep
It’s hard to put on a tough face when
You’ve put up a front for as long as you can remember
Everything could be perfect
On the outside
You’ve painted a perfect picture with a
White picket fence
Yet it doesn’t seem to be your reality
Fake it till you make it
They say
But they don’t know the secrets hiding in your head
No matter how perfect everything seems
Your brain doesn’t catch on
So
You fake it till you make it
And hope that one day
Your brain; your emotions
Will flip a switch
And the self-sabotage and hurt will end
And you can finally just
Enjoy Life.
I feel like a lot of people can relate to your poem. I use the phrase “fake it til you make it” quite a bit in order to put on a happy, energetic persona. But, like you say, it doesn’t change the interior monologue. Wishing you luck!
Hey Ang! I’m here with you when you say, Your brain doesn’t catch on. It always feels like we’re chasing something, especially things that are not within our reach, it’s just very hard to resist. And how will we know if we are caught up or ever will be caught up?
Just Get Through Today
There’s only us
There’s only this
And a pile of laundry
And a sink full of dishes
There’s only us
There’s only tonight
And kids that need feedin’
And dogs that need walkin’
Forget regret
Because there’s too much
stuff to do.
I try to control
my destiny.
When my only goal
should be just
to be.
There’s only now.
There’s only here.
Except that grades are due tomorrow
And there’s a staff meeting Friday.
There’s no other path
and no other way.
So, just get through today.
I love the two line stanzas as they capture the succinct, matter-of-fact meanings they are capturing. And the irony that even there’s only the now and the here, there are in fact grades to attend to and a meeting to attend.
It is so simple yet feels so much. It’s like saying just take it one step at a time.
Chea! Thank you for writing today. I hope for both me an you we are able to get through today and not push anything from today onto tomorrow.
Oh Sandy, baby, someday
I’ll wake up with new eyes
I’ll never look at you the same
Experience changes, innocence dies
When high school is done
I won’t watch for you again
Moving onto more Wicked fun
Redemption replacing your sins
Somehow, someway
Grease Lightnin’ and Rydell High
Fall– I hear what you really say
How you change, authenticity dies
Our two worlds will be one
But I would rather defy gravity
Than lose myself for summer fun
Than fall victim to pointless vanity
——————————–
I wrote this because I used to love Grease, but then I grew up and realized the messages were pretty messed up when I took a step back. Wicked is now my repeat watch.
Here with you Ashley! And I appreciate your new fav watch, you’re defying gravity!
Susan,
First of all CONGRATULATIONS on your upcoming retirement. I wish you much happiness after 38 years in the classroom–what an accomplishment!
I love plays and musicals, as well. As a hip hop head, I LOVE the impact the Hamilton had on the cultural milieu, even if the story glosses over some of the ugly spots of history. One of my favorite songs from the play, and then the subsequent mixtape is “I Wrote My Way Out“.
The hook goes:
When the world turned its back on me
I was up against the wall
I had no foundation
No friends and no family to catch my fall
Runnin’ on empty, there was nothin’ left in me but doubt
I picked up a pen and “I wrote my way—” out
Wrote My Way Out
I picked up the pen, my way in, where to begin
when life got me up against the ropes, outta hope, chances slim,
bobbin’ and weavin’, bleedin’, I’m taking it on the chin,
too stubborn to give up, too stupid not to grin,
singin’ a little sin, thinnin’ a little gin,
I coulda drown in bottles, foot pinned on the throttle,
no guarantee for tomorrow, playin’ a role model,
ready to catch a fade, thinkin’ my hand is played,
a second before it’s too late, turning back to the page–
no, I’m not perfect, these trials–probably deserved it,
I’m seekin’ some kinda redemption, feelin’ like I’m worth it,
scribble these little rhymes, sketch out a next time
that I might not’ve seen, a new scene, new set of lines,
renewed for a new season, exorcising demons,
like tappin’ a new source of water in the middle of a drought,
I let my ink sink in the blank page and wrote my way out.
Dave, you are a master with rhythm and rhyme! I feel like I’m supposed to say, “you droppin’ bars” but I fear my son would say, “No mom.” LOL, all that to say, I am here for it all. I bet you are one hell of a spoken word poet.
Standing and snapping for you!!!!
Dave,
Ditto what Stacey said. I heard Lin Manuel Miranda’s voice as I be-bopped my way through this verse. The rhyme—end and internal—the alliteration, the themes of renewal through writing through the hard times all show fast cars and strong drink and all the other things can’t beat the written word, one’s own and those of others, for enriching life.
Dave, I would love to hear this poem read out loud by you. Love the final line: “I let my ink sink in the blank page and wrote my way out.” Isn’t this something a poet would do? Beautiful!
Pure genius, Dave! Other than Hamilton, I have never listened to hip-hop at all, but the inventive rhyme and rhythm definitely impress. And your ability to workout is next level. I love every bit of this, but the line that grabbed me most is
Thank you for taking the time to add your touch of skill today!!
Thank you for your wonderful prompt. It inspired me to think of the teachings and teachers that are currently lingering in my life, so that is the track I took.
I have been relistening to Clarissa Pinkola Estes and pondering her teachings on women, wolves, and the soul.
These are the lines that lingered: “bone by bone, hair by hair wild woman comes back through night dreams and events half understood or remembered.”
Last Wishes
sometime
when it is the time
let me go to the ground
the fields are golden with waiting
swaying like skirts
singing me home
for awhile
let me become
silent white bones
the ground is soft with waiting
patient like god
preserving the bones
I will be back, in time.
hair by hair
bone by tiny bone
sometime
when it is time
I will find you
wild woman comes back
to howl
together
always
Kasey, first, I love the lines you chose to write about today. Your words are tender and moving, like, “let me go to the ground,” and, “the ground is soft with waiting.” I really like the contrast with the howling. So well done.
Kasey—
This is a beautiful poem! The imagery is so transfixing! I find myself
caught in the stanzas, letting the images wash over me. “Golden with waiting/ swaying like skirts” is a stunning image. And the repetition of the waiting lends a cohesion to the poem. Really well crafted!
Kasey, you crafted a beautiful poem inspired by Estes. Each word is chosen so carefully to suit the purpose. The golden fields and the soft ground are warm and tender images. Thank you!
There is such peace in your poem, Kasey. Beautiful sound and imagery. I am intrigued by the little that you share about your inspiration of Clarissa Pinkola Estes and will most definitely do a deep dive into learning more.
Thank you for taking the time to add this beauty to our space today.
“Broadway Memories”
Days in theater seats dot my life,
memories rife with
feeling – like my first show with
Uncle Jim: Annie. I was mortified
to be there, probably teased at
school for going (middle school
was a hard knock life), and I
refused to stand for the standing
ovation: a true theater brat.
But it stuck, and my mom is
whom I have to thank: from
watching Robert Goulet
break character
as King Arthur
when the trusty canine onstage
squatted and did his unkingly
business
in front of the audience.
(Couldn’t he have found
a more congenial spot?)
To Jerry Lewis camping and
spitballing as a dapper Satan in
Damn Yankees.
To a farce (Two Guvnors)
where I learned about
skiffle
and mom taught me
even more on the drive home.
Theater, work your magic on
My daughters next:
Beginning with Dora
and Sesame Street Live,
to being found during Evan Hansen
next to a depressed teen,
tears teeming for both of us
(there was a reason to believe
she’d be okay).
Potted Potter satires.
The world knowing we’d been
at Newsies together
(thanks, Facebook).
And Sweeney Todd – attending the tale and
heading home on the
Thruway, original score blasting
and three theater nerds
screaming lyrics into the wind
til the bad times
were clean
washed
away.
I love the journey through your Broadway history, Wendy! How blessed we all are to have these opportunities. And memories!!
I really love how you end this as theater (or really any form of entertainment, I suppose) is such an escape.
This was a fun jaunt through your theater-going history, Wendy. I smiled as I thought of my own experiences compared to yours. I love the screaming of the lyrics.
I loved hitting some stops on your musical journey, Wendy! And I love the request: “Theater, work your magic on / My daughters next.” Live theater is such a wonderful thing, well, good live theater is such a wonderful thing, lol. There’s nothing else quite like it!
So wonderful to pass theater between generations. My Dad got me hooked into it. I usher for all the plays here in San Diego and love it. Love how your family connected through going to plays.
Susan, what a great gig! I’m jealous!
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There it stays,
Drilled for days,
Wonderful,
painful
It lays.
Stirring my brainwaves,
Indigenous,
Amongst my smoked out haze.
I laugh,
I smirk,
It lingers,
As my day
gently rolls by.
I sigh,
I cry,
It remains,
Nestled,
Like a horrible lie.
Ringing,
Singing,
A terrible
Lullaby.
For days,
Upon days,
The jingle,
The tingle,
Of a catch phrase,
Refuses
To die.
While I love this entire thing, Boxer, I especially love your use of the word “indigenous” to describe this!
This is so clever. I enjoy the rhythm that mimics an advertisement/jingle. The poem is brilliant and relatable. What a fun way to approach the prompt!
Boxer,
I’m there with you! This made me think of the Ozempic commercial that my son signs along to, or the Top Dog Law commercials on the radio that have become ubiquitous, etching their way into my memory.
I agree with Susan—calling these thoughts “indigenous” lends a whole other layer of meaning to the poem!
I love this prompt, Susan. I’m such a Hamfan, I had to go with my favorite line from Hamilton. George Washington references Micah 4:4, “Everyone will sit under their own vine/and under their own fig tree,/ and no one will make them afraid,/ for the Lord Almighty has spoken.” I tried a reverse golden shovel today.
No One Shall Make Them Afraid
By Mo Daley 4/20/25
I never knew it could be like this, I
want the rest of my days
to be whatever I want them to be-
sit for an hour or two in the yard, lie in bed
under a cozy blanket, anything!
My life, my rules! In this stage of life, I make my
own rules. And I’m good at it. I enjoy the fruit of the
vine occasionally
and whatever else I wish. I watch my hips widen like a
fig, but I don’t care. I am a
tree, full of peace and serenity.
This take on this quote was fun. And I doubt you’re the shape of a fig, but I love that line!!! I also chose Hamilton for my poem today. Lots of good nuggets in there. Thanks for writing
This is going to become my anthem, Mo:
I love what you created from this line from Hamilton. Can you imagine what we could all create based simply on Hamilton? I also love the rhyme in
Thank you for this. It touches the all too human feelings of this moment of longing for life to be better than what it is, but I love how you find peace even with the hard feelings. The simile of the fig is clever and layered. Thank you!
Susan, even with 5 options offered, somehow I needed option number 6! Your title lingered for me…and it was a bamboo forest that inspired today’s poem! I so love all the weird ways that minds and poems work! Thanks so much for the inspiration! (There’s a photo of my inspiration in my blog post–linked at the end)
Life’s Lines
Lines of cars
ants
scurrying
hurrying
to get somewhere
Lines of people
queuing
for tickets
for food
for the tram
for a look
Lines of light
penetrating
lingering
caressing
nature’s greens
breathing in
human
breathing out
life’s lines
grab on
hold on
embrace lines
that heal
Kim Douillard
4/20/25
https://thinkingthroughmylens.com/2025/04/20/lifes-lines-npm25-day-20/
Kim, these “life’s lines / grab on/ hold on/ embrace lines / that heal” – these I am holding on to today. Thank you for the link, I loved the photo of bamboo trees looking up to the sun – beautiful!
Oh, Kim, I so love that your beautiful mind took inspiration from what it did. That’s the beauty of this space . . . we take bits and pieces of what is offered and make something perfectly unique to us. I absolutely LOVE what you created and seeing that photo of the bamboo trees sure helps us see your thought process. What a creation!
Kim, I think I, too, will be veering from the path shortly. Your poem hit on something I have been pondering-lines and scars and healing. I love the cleverness of your “life’s line” and the way the short stanzas have a lining effect visually. Thank you.
Kim,
I think your poem is in the spirit of the prompt. I bet we’ve all stood in lines for the theater or a book signing or a concert. I prefer the lines in nature and love how hour poem towers like bamboo.
Oh goody, another opportunity to write a Hamilton poem! (Borrowed rhymes back on day 3?) Every time I hear the word Legacy, in any context, I immediately blurt out the next line … italicized below. Hoping to plant some seeds for future poems, too. Thank you for this fun prompt
L e g a c y
Bloom where you are planted,
says the sign on my door
…the gardener or her seeds?
who is that tip for?
I’ve done most of my blooming
during seasons of change,
certainly not putting roots
down in soils estranged.
What a curious gardener I am,
sprinkling
seeds
like
crumbs
as I plow through life
rarely seeing the outcomes.
Maybe those crumbs lead me back
or perhaps I’ll never reap legacy,
by planting seeds in a garden
I never get to see.
That’s the thing about gardeners:
You may bloom where you are.
Or you may cultivate future blooms
unknowingly, because of
w h o
y o u
a r e.
C.O., wow, you’ve created such a powerful poem about the seeds we plant. Your opening lines drew me right in, and I enjoy the way you formatted this one, especially with the seeds like crumbs. Your ending also adds just the perfect amount of emphasis. Thinking about people blooming and helping others to bloom, is simply marvelous! Blooming after a season of change is admirable!
Love, love, love! I may just hang this stanza in my bathroom to use as inspiration during my pending season of change:
This was my Monday quote for my students last week. In years past we have planted seeds and written on the outside of the cups the qualities we wish to grow in ourselves, which I feel like is your poem- embodied. You hit on such a wonderful truth and explore it with a passion and an introspection that resonates with me.
Not gonna lie, I’m here for the Hamilton! Your second and last stanzas really speak to me, CO. Love what you’ve done with these lyrics.
C.O., this is so beautiful. I would be honored to “cultivate future blooms / unknowingly, because of / who / you / are.” Your poem reminds me of the saying, “Blessed is he who plants trees under whose shade he will never sit.” Beautiful poem!
Thank you, Susan, for hosting today and for your wonderful prompt. I loved the end of your poem, thinking about how we do always want more when we reach the end of something special.
Goodbye, Black and White World
I want to catch the tail
of a Kansas twister,
let it spin me into the Emerald City
where I’ll follow a yellow brick road
on a horse of a different color
find dreams that really do come true
like having the courage to love deeply
the nerve to destroy
my beautiful wickedness
a brain to while away the hours—
surely life would be a ding-a-derry
in a home beyond the rainbow
Barb Edler
20 April 2025
Barb, what a perfect topic for your poem today. I have read it three times, just enjoying the sounds and images. Once I read it with commas in the second stanza. “The nerve to destroy” and “my beautiful wickedness” as two separate items. Another as “the nerve to destroy my beautiful wickedness”. I’m not sure which I like better. I do love “my beautiful wickedness” and “surely life would be a ding-a-derry” I really like your poem.
Oh, Barb, you cleverly weave in the familiar elements from The Wizard of Oz. I like how you express a desire for change “the nerve to destroy” and find a more vibrant life “beyond the rainbow.” Such a hopeful, uplifting poem! Thank you!
Barb,
I wish tornados worked like this: “let it spin me into the Emerald City.” I adore your reimagine of Oz, but hold tight to your “beautiful wickedness.” It’s the best part of you, my friend.
So much depth to this poem, Barb! I struggle mightily living in a black and white world, so I would love to say goodbye to it as well. Your allusions to things Oz are brilliant . . . just enough to intrigue.
Susan, thank you for this prompt! There were so many good ideas. I had fun reading the lyrics of some of my favorite musical numbers. Your poem plus a recent conversation with my daughter about The Lion King inspired my poem today.
The Circle of Life
Through despair and hope
When I don’t understand:
Peace. Just recall the scope
of life’s worthy wonderland.
Through faith and love
Till we find our place
In this circle, like a glove,
Loose-fitting, full of grace
_______________
With italicized lines from “The Circle of Life” in The Lion King musical.
What a lovely poem and beautiful lyrics to show the peace we often seek and need. Love your closing simile. Grace is something I think many of us need. Gorgeous poem!
Hi Denise–those words like a glove, Loose-fitting, full of grace are speaking to me. Like a glove and loose fitting are almost opposites, but perfect together!
Something about the loose fitting glove and being full of grace is just really sitting with me. Thank you for this. I haven’t seen lion king yet, but it’s on the list!
Denise, I needed your poem today. This longing for peace- my inner peace and a global one- is so resonant. I am taking these words to linger on for a while:
“Peace. Just recall the scope
of life’s worthy wonderland.”
Thank you for this beautiful poem!
Denise, what a beautiful poem. I wanted to use that song but wasn’t feeling it. I love the last two lines!
Denise, I try so hard to live by faith and walk by faith. I can’t survive in fear. Your poem is lovely.
What a wonderful phrase! The Lion King is one of my favorites. When those animals come out, I sob!
Denise,
Despair sure has been on a tear in recent months. I used to spend a lot of time pinned down by despair and have analyzed why and why me more often than I care to imagine. Why not me? is the question I’m trying to embrace—personally, professionally, and politically. This leads me to your line
“Peace. Just recall the scope
of life’s worthy wonderland.”
That’s really the essence of what I hope I can do in the coming months and years. Peace to you, my friend.
The women knew
but weren’t believed
when they told the men.
Peter had to run to see for himself.
But women always know.
They know in their heart
what they feel and what they have seen.
They saw the tempty tomb.
The women knew
what they had to do.
They knew the time was right.
Tell the world He Has Risen!
Women always know.
After seeing the musical, Regency Girls, and it being Easter.
Susan, I love how your poem reflects today’s holiday. I just wrote a fairy tale recently that focused on the power of a woman. You show that perfectly in your poem. Yes, the heart tells us much! Striking poem!
Susan, I love this about Jesus’ women disciples. It reminded me of a book by Rachel Held Evans I recently read, Searching for Sunday. There was a great section on the women who followed Jesus, the very first bearers of the Gospel. I’m not sure if you meant “tempty tomb”, but it sounds great, and I’m enjoying considering the meaning of it. Happy Easter to you!
oh.. my mistake and a hee hee!
should be empty. But then, it was tempting.
Susan, I am with you on this: “Women always know.” Connecting the poem to today’s holiday is a special touch. Thank you and Happy Easter!
Perfect poem on this glorious day of Resurrection! Thank goodness for women’s wisdom.
What a clever blending of two things on your mind today! I am eager to see Regency Girls. I love how you focus on the strength of women and the resurrection!
Susan, thank you for hosting us and for giving us options! Happy Resurrection Day to all.
Congrats on deciding to retire. I am finishing year 39 and plan to be finished at the end of next year. I hope you’ll share all the fun and exciting things you do in retirement.
I revisited my memories of my first year at UCLA. I also used the first line you shared, ‘Cause here’s the thing.
What College Didn’t Teach
Cause, here’s the thing…
My first summer at UCLA
was a season for freedom
finally no rules
well, no parents’ rules
I could stay up late
sleep in, or not,
sleep with boys
I thought were men, or not,
eat croissants all day
and drink strong coffee
watch football players
devour meals in the cafeteria
I wandered around Powell Library
and was awed by
the Ralph Bunche building
who I didn’t know
but the way girls showered and
didn’t clean up their hair
appalled me
and how their parents
kept bringing them stuff
they didn’t need
‘Cause here’s the thing…
My first summer at UCLA
was the beginning
of learning about white privilege
I didn’t learn about Black history
Black culture, or Black excellence
until my last year of college
but they still didn’t teach me
about the Haitian Revolution
The Tulsa Race Massacre
or why Ralph Bunche mattered.
© Stacey L. Joy, 4/20/25
Oh my gosh, Stacey. How did we forget Ralph Bunche so quickly? I didn’t learn about him either, and now I’ve just been off reading about him and all the good he did. Your poem is so honest and shows the “important” things we do when we are young. But also all the important things we are not taught in our curricula throughout our entire education. Thank you for this gem and for making me think today.
Stacey, your powerful and honest voice in this poem shows the many flaws we experience with education. I learned that many of my peers wasted their college education if their parents were footing the bill. History lessons sure have a way of being misrepresented or completely erased. Your poem reminds me of how important it is that the government doesn’t dictate the books we can and cannot read. I love the truth you share in your poem!
Wow, shivers. From light and playful about the college experience to heavy and deep about your memory of this place. Chills. Beautiful and stunning. Thank you for this. Rock on.
Stacey, thank you for the poem that is so relevant to me despite that we attended schools in different countries on different continents. Our soviet government with its strong ideology brainwashed us since childhood. There are things I am just learning now. I like how you begin the poem with recollecting your “new” freedoms when you went to college and then move on the learning about your cultural identity, culture, heritage.
Stacey,
This is a semi-familiar segue down memory lane. Beyoncé your “need
‘Cause here’s the thing…”
is the subtext that we have so much more to teach and learn. I don’t like the current *playlist* being trotted out as though we should peddle backwards and only read pasty white men stories.
I am glad that a few of you chose to share about your colleges. I love college campuses and learning about their vibe.
I’m sorry you felt so unseen as a student at UCLA. I think the use of
in your last gutpunching stanza is so powerful.
A Skinny on Endings
I don’t want to know
how
anything
ends
because
endings
rarely
satisfy.
Anything
ending
I’d rather know as Beginning.
Sarah,
The Skinny works so well for this message. I agree with you and don’t want to know how anything ends. Although, I do want to know how the next 4 years will end for America.
Sarah, It’s a nice thought to think of endings as beginnings. This is a skinny that made me think.
Sarah, Ha! I love your title. The skinny has two interpretations for me, so I love that duality. Your final line is delivered perfectly. Endings, I agree, are rarely satisfying:)
This poem made me think of the word “commencement” and how we use the word beginning to mark many momentous ends. Love the poem thanks for sharing.
Sarah, a skinny is perfect for a message packed in a few words. Every ending is a new beginning. Your poem reminded me my parents who used to day that when one door closed, another one would open. I like to think it is so. Thank you!
Sarah,
I don’t want to know the endings either. Maybe that’s because I’ve always had trouble accepting Calvinism. Every ending is a beginning, and if we focus too much on endings we miss the boings and the middles.
I love the skinny you share with us. Focusing on beginnings is the wisest thing we can do, for endings often really stink.
YES. I love that your skinny makes me think about the difficulties of crafting the “perfect” ending to a piece of writing. Endings are hard, lol! They “rarely satisfy.” What is that famous quote about art? “Art is never finished, only abandoned.” Your poem also reminds me of that ol’ Tom Stoppard quote: “Every exit is an entry somewhere else.” Thanks for this, Sarah!
(Using a line or two from “Seasons of Love” in Rent)
We hold these truths
Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
Welcoming the stranger
the tired, the poor,
the huddled masses
yearning to breathe free
How do you measure the right thing to do?
lives deserving freedom
lives worth protecting
lives due years, months, days, minutes
How do you measure the American way?
How about love?
Measure in love
Why can’t we try love?
One hundred forty-four thousand minutes
How do you measure the first 100 days?
Oh, Maureen, I can hear the song in these lines and find myself learning way from 100 days to the 20 days we’ve been here together. I measure these 20 days as pretty darn good being with you in verse where I think we are trying to love. Hugs.
The song ran through my head as I read your opening. I really like where you went with this poem.
I like the message in this one. How do you measure the first 100 days? I wish every day of it was full of love. We shouldn’t need to measure something that should be there abundantly. Sorry that it isn’t.
Maureen, wonder musical to tap into with these lyrics that are so singable. Thank you for the message that we should keep shouting from the rooftops. The Lazarus lines in there are so important too. And yes to LOVE.
Oh wow. What a lovely way to weave this song and state of state together. Thank you for the creativity and message you share with us.
Brilliant! Perfect song. Perfect questions and adaptation. Wonderful list of actions we can take. I know how I measure the first 100 days. It’s the antithesis of love and kindness.
The opening line will now be worming in my ear for the rest of the evening. Isn’t it such a fantastic start to a song?
More importantly, I LOVE what you did with those lines. You built up to an idea that so many of us here in VerseLove believe so strongly in . . . that we need to be a country of love and freedom and refuge and many other things that we are failing to be at the hands of current leadership.
A Fantasticks Easter Sunday
“Soon it’s gonna rain, I can see it
Soon it’s gonna rain, I can tell.
Soon it’s gonna rain, what are we gonna do?”
I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do:
We’re gonna put the blue raincoat on the dog
And take him for a walk.
And then we’ll do it again,
Because it’s still raining
On a sleepy Easter Sunday.
I am cold and a little grumpy as we dodge puddles (or try)
Or rather I try– the dog doesn’t care.
But we haven’t had rain in months (years?),
And everything looks so green and vibrant
And look, rhododendrons!
The song ends happily, with the lovers safe inside their castle walls.
I’m happy too, and the dog is asleep.
Ooh, this is rough– I started two different poems and deleted them, then settled on this one.
Sheila,
Seems deleting and restarting is a thing today. I’m saving drafts for later. I tell my husband all the time the dogs don’t care if it’s raining or snowing. They just want to go out. As long as you don’t have tornado warnings or flooding, enjoy the rain and the lovely flowers that drink of its watery nectar. Happy Easter.
I am learning so much today! Thank you, Sheila, for bringing The Fantasticks into my realm. I am familiar with “Try To Remember” but not the musical as a whole. I’m now hopeful to see it during a revival!
I love how you take the rain and use it to inspire a Broadway-related poem! I love the spontaneity of
Susan, you simply MUST see this show! It’s wonderful– so simple and childlike (only one set piece and maybe three actors on stage at a time).
This has me smiling and singing – even a miserable weather walk leads to joy –
Sheila, I love this. It seems so easy to visualize you on your “sleepy Easter Sunday”. And I love the hope of the all the green “And look, rhododendrons!” So sweet! Fun poem.
Susan,
Thank you for hosting. zi share your love of theater. I love the paradox inherent in your poem, especially this line: “foolish and yet also brave.”
My poem is more of a last day than mid-month offering, but I worry I’m becoming predictable in my choice of themes and want to avoid some topics on Easter.
Handprint on My Heart
We meet, we gather
in this virtual space.
We share our poems and
with words we take a chance.
We know the people we
meet along life’s way
will make a difference in how
we live and move each day.
Some bring joy and give
more than they take.
Some suck energy, drop-
ing lines, retreating in haste.
Reading your verses, I feel all the feels.
They’re like a handprint on my heart.
Glenda Funk
4-20-25
“Like a handprint on my heart.”
from “For Good” (Wicked)
Glenda, I also ponder my writing patterns. This is a lovely intention of words noting the “chance” and the range of engagements. The metaphor of handprint is apt and lovely in the literal sense of creation which we must take with care in writing and the figurative impact. Love.
“For Good” never fails to bring me to tears. Our choir sings it every year at our 8th grade graduation. I suspect it will hit differently this year.
“Like a handprint on my heart” is such a wonderful image to show just how touching and meaningful things are. My heart is definitely covered in handprints from our group.
I am always so appreciative of the in depth feedback many people give. I try but often fail.
Thank you for taking the time to write today, and, like you, I feel I write on the same topic too much. But, I always feel like your offerings are sharp and thought-provoking. We all write for different reasons, I suppose.
Oh, I love this, Glenda! A gift of a poem to all of us. Love that line from Wicked. This is the heady experience I have in April –
It is so awesome to take a chance with our words in this caring community.
This was a great song choice. Thank you for sharing.
Glenda, I love you and appreciate your poems whether they are armed with fire or soaked in love. We deserve to “feel all the feels” from your poems.
Glenda, ooof, I love your poem. Your title is perfect, and I know you are one who gives way more than you take. I love how you make a difference in this writing community. You’ve touched my heart often and I appreciate you so much! Hugs!
Glenda, I love many lines from your poem today, but these are so special: “with words we take a chance,” and “They’re like a handprint on my heart.” This reminded me your poem about kind strangers we meet in life.
I, too, notice my writing patterns, and most of them were intentional this month.
Glenda, I so appreciate the craft and precision of your poetry (take the “drop- / ing” in stanza six for example) and the insightful comments you’ve made on my poems and on the poems of others in this community. I look forward to your poems each month!
Glenda, I love this: “with words we take a chance” Yes, we do. That has been a wonderful gift of this place, to dare to be vulnerable. Thank you for reading my verses, for sharing “handprint[s] on my heart”
Thanks, Susan for the prompt, and congratulations on 38 years well lived teaching and learning. I grew up only 20 minutes from Broadway, and my parents would take my sister and me often to see the latest shows. They were family-affordable back then. I saw Mary Martin as Peter Pan, and Davey Jones as the Artful Dodger in Oliver. I was very young, but it’s something I’ll never forget. My beloved Aunt Jo died young and was a HUGE Judy Garland fan, so this poem today is for her somewhere over the rainbow.
Somewhere
Someday I’ll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That’s where you’ll find me.
They say there is heaven,
They say there is peace,
The say there is blue skies
and bluebird happiness,
Somewhere over the rainbow.
They say there is freedom,
They say there is hope,
They say there is happiness
just around the corner,
Somewhere over the rainbow.
They say there will be no pain,
They say wars will end,
They say there is eternity,
a lovely dream floating,
Somewhere over the rainbow.
Joan,
Im getting a vibe from “they say” repeated throughout and think about all those “they say” as hard to believe in the midst of grief. I’m sure you’re having lots of mixed feelings today, so I’ll avoid saying a “they say.” Peace.
*Joanne
I’m sleeps deprived and typoed. Sorry!
The anaphora is felt deeply in the range of utterances.
To grow up going to Broadway—real Broadway—…what a dream! I first went when I was 40, but I was blessed to be raised in a home where we always went to the high school and community college offerings, so I developed a passion and appreciation for shows at a young age.
You certainly can’t go wrong writing something inspired be a beloved aunt and the songbird voice of Judy Garland. And that song…all the feels. Your anaphora is so powerful and works to prod our thoughts.
Thanks for taking the time to join us today!
Beautiful to imagine “somewhere” today; thank you fot this. I am imagining these good possibilities “just around the corner.”
Joanne,
How sweet to imagine a better world “Somewhere over the rainbow” as “they say.” Let it be so. Let it be so.
So beautiful! This gives such hope on an Easter day. A very nice tribute to your aunt.
This is eerily beautiful. What a lovely memory you have of this person and place. Thanks for sharing.
Joanne, I love this song, and I adore how you’ve captured the many beautiful things we could find “Somewhere over the rainbow”.
Joanne, this is a sweet and thoughtful poem for Aunt Jo. I do hope there is just the way they say ” somewhere over the rainbow.” As Sarah noticed, anaphora works so well in your poem.
[title of poem]
It’s not a surprise, prolly,
that my favorite Broadway
musical is a “meta-musical
about its own creation” called
[title of show].
I mean, that totes checks out
when you take into account
my favorite book is The Things
They Carried and one of my
favorite plays is Waiting for
Godot and one of my top ten
movies is Stranger Than Fiction,
so, there is really no surprise,
then, that this soundtrack
that I bought and burned
many many moons ago
from the iTunes store
and played the hell out of
is an anthem for much
of my creative endeavors.
To put it another way:
this poem – and nearly
literally all of my poems –
are the Rice Crispy Treats
at the annual cake baking
contest, which is to say,
“I’d rather be nine peoples’
favorite thing than a
hundred peoples’ ninth
favorite thing.”
_____________________________________________________
Happy Easter, Susan! And thank you for your mentor poem (and its truth that “learning it’s about the journey / more than the destination / helps to give us our “why”) and your prompt today! For my offering, the first quotation, for those who are curious, comes from a Playbill article and the last quotation comes from the show itself. You can youtube it (like “google it” or “backrub it” – that’s right, I just made a callback to one of my previous poems, lol) if you type in “Nine People’s Favorite Thing – Music and Lyrics by Jeff Bowen” into your YouTube search bar. Enjoy!
Hahaha. I love metafiction too Scott. The idea has always been so interesting to me since I learned of it. And I’m totally going to call Google Backrub now. Once again, you’re teaching me new things. I really like the last quote/lyric.
Scott,
I’m filing this under *Scott’s Confessionals* because it is insightful. I share your love of metafiction, “The Things They Carried” and “Waiting for Godot.” Maybe you should get working on a Rice Krispy treats cake. Ditto what Angie says about that last quote.
Oh, yes, rice crispy treats. Is the perfect metaphor for poem preference and joy.
Happy Easter! Thanks for taking the time to add your genius to our space today!
You are one of the most interesting people I have never met, Scott! Your poems and comments never fail to give me great food for thought. I’m embarrassed to say that I had never heard of metafiction, so I’m glad I have something knew to do a deep dive about.
“Nine People’s Favorite Thing” is flat cool.
That is an awesome quote in your final lines – and I agree with it completely. I’m googling “Jeff Bowen” now – and I love the insight you have provided here about your poetry…
Really great poem, Scott.
Scott-
“Backrub it”-Lolol. Even the commentary is meta! The quote at the end of the poem is perfect! And I agree (mostly!). Your list of favorite literary things is tough to beat—Stranger Than Fiction is a real gem!
Thank you for this prompt, Susie! I bet you can’t wait until that last bell in May. Happy Retirement! In your poem, these lines speak to me today: “learning it’s about the journey / more than the destination.”
I don’t watch a lot of musicals, but lyrics often get stuck with me for a day. This one is one of the latest that’s on repeat. Melanie C sings it beautifully. My husband introduced it to me when I just came to the US 20 years ago, and it became “our” song.
I Turn to You
When the world is darker than I can understand
When nothing turns out the way I planned
When the sky turns grey and there’s no end in sight
When I can’t sleep through the lonely night
I turn to you
Like a flower leaning toward the sun
I turn to you
‘Cause you’re the only one
Who can turn me around when I’m upside down
I turn to you
Turning to You
When the world is darker than I can understand,
When sleep won’t come and worry fills the air,
I turn to you—the one who holds my hand.
When deadlines loom and plans fall through like sand,
When I forget that life indeed is not about fair,
When the world is darker than I can understand,
You sit beside me, steady, calm, and planned,
You hum a tune that smooths my broken stare;
I turn to you—the one who holds my hand.
When foreign boots assault sweet homeland,
When sorrow builds a weight too much to wear,
When the world is darker than I can understand,
You lift my spirit, make me understand
That even shattered skies can still repair;
I turn to you—the one who holds my hand.
And when the silence stretches, dry and bland,
Your voice, your presence are for me just there.
When the world is darker than I can understand,
I turn to you—the one who holds my hand.
Leilya, I never knew that was Melanie C!! Omg! Now I love it even more. (Spice Girls fan) Your repeating line “I turn to you—the one who holds my hand.” Is so beautiful throughout the poem. That’s so sweet this is you and your husband’s song!
Leliya, this is lovely. So heartfelt.
Leilya,
Having read so many of your poems, I totally understand your song choice. We all need someone to turn to. I find your poem touching.
This is such a sweet poem inspired by a song that I have never heard! Thanks for bringing new things for me to explore!
I love how this captures so much about how you feel about your husband. It’s honest and full of love. I especially love this stanza:
Whoooaaahhhhh,Leilya, your poem is incredible. I love the way these loving lines flow, the specific ways in which your loved one helps you through the dark times like “foreign boots assault sweet homeland”. Such a powerful and gorgeous poem. Thanks for sharing this poignant poem full of love!
Leilya, you are working on an anthology of love poems for that sweet husband of yours. This is so beautiful and touching. The stanza about “foreign boots assault[ing] sweet homeland…” is so poignant. Then “you lift my spirit” Thank you.
Susan, thank you for the options you gave along with the prompt. I have not seen Hadestown, but the lines you chose and your poem make me want to see it. The last stanza of your poem struck me. I initially planned to retire in June 2025, but the plan has now been revised to June 2026. I’m not sure who I will be if I’m not teaching, and I think I’m delaying because I’m afraid to let it end.
“When we reach the end
we always want more
not ready for it to be over.
we hit rewind
to begin again
trying to delay the closure.”
My poem is based on the movie Mr. Holland’s Opus. Every time I view it, I am moved to tears because it feels like music teachers have finally been seen and understood.
A Music Teacher’s Opus
Thirty-nine years as a teacher –
Twenty-three spent teaching music K-8
A “special” teacher’s life can be lonely –
Not much respect or recognition
No one understands their passion
The “arts” are what make us human
yet they are first to be forgotten
first budgets & programs cut
Music teachers have to fight
to keep what they have
to grow what they have
because they love what they have
and don’t want it to become
only a memory.
Not many understand that
the arts might be the only place
a student finds a safe space
where they are accepted as they are
All teachers can make an impact
on their students, but
the music teacher makes a
“special” impact.
Hi Rita,
I’m not even musically or artistically inclined but I am one of the ones who will never understand the cuts to arts programs. Not in the slightest. So much research is done proving its benefits and necessity. So unfortunate. Your lines here are powerfully written together:
“The “arts” are what make us human
yet they are first to be forgotten”
Thanks for sharing!
Mr. Holland’s Opus is such a gem of a movie! My husband and I have our own little culture around it. I love how sports and music respect each other and merge!
The arts—music in particular—are so vital to high schools. Your homage to the arts is beautiful; if only budgets would alway see its value!
Rita, how much truth is in this line: “The “arts” are what make us human, ” and then a sad recognition of what is going one today: “yet they are first to be forgotten.” I believe that your impact is special and your kindness and care for these kids changes their lives. Thank you for the poem and your devotion to students!
Lingering here for me is the song of your poem, the ode to music teachers is lovely.
Rita, this is beautiful and important. I love the epistrophe (I had to look that up!) where you repeat “what they have”. It really nails down the importance of the fight you talk about. Having a student who finds a safe place in the arts is a mighty motivation to stay in teaching.
Susan, I loved the wisdom of your words today. And I loved the rhyme scheme in your poem.
Susan,
thanks for hosting us and giving so many prompt options. Congratulations on your retirement! I might be right behind you. Currently trying to decide between retiring this year or next.
Your last stanza resonated:
I wrote about a time when some partial lyrics got stuck in my head.
——————————————————-
Yellowstone
Remember
when we hiked
singing half-remembered
mis-remembered
Robert Earl Keen lyrics
on the switchbacks
Remember
when we hiked
through the woods
blackened by fire
but unlike in the cartoons
still standing
and you saw the deer
standing still
watching us
Your beginning with “Remember” reminds me of “That Time” by Regina Spektor, so thank you for reminding me about that awesome song.
Sharon, I don’t know the song, but I like how your poem flows from remembering the song to remembering the views and the deer. This kind of singing “half-remembered
mis-remembered” sounds so familiar. Thank you!
Just realized that I should have titled my poem Gringo Honeymoon.
There is nothing better than half-remembered or mis-remembered lyrics, especially when shared with someone close to us.
This is such a wonderful capture of a moment that has meaning beyond that moment.
Thinking of misremembered lyrics is hilarious. I like to follow Coxy Official on Facebook for these – – he always makes me laugh. This is a keeper. It makes me think that even the deer knew the real lyrics and were wondering how y’all remembered the misheard ones…..
Sharon–I love this. That repeated line remember at the beginning of both stanzas…and the deer standing still watching us. A perfect hike.
Happy Easter to all celebrating Cadbury Eggs today. I was nervous to head down a musical theater road this morning, as I’ve had a life of wondering, “What is this weird American genre,” at the same time, I’ve always wanted to make the world around me more theatrical. I love the lines, Susan, “To know how it ends / takes a resilient heart.” I suppose the songs that continue to find me throughout life are from Hair. So I went there.
Clippings
I moused it in 1990 with vanilla,
iced it with an eddy, my widow’s peak
boxed continentally because it was the Norm…
…way before I learned to sing with fellow
Aquarians floating, flipping, flying, tripping,
on a rocket to the 4th dimension.
Melons go blind & peppers are chilled.
And when there’s no money, it seems natural to flow…
why not let it go? Flow it, show it Long as God can grow it.
Becoming a postmodern hippie was the goal all along.
But when my students chose to cornrow it,
causing a soul-tsunami to leak from pierced eyes,
I knew it was time for the Buddha buzz,
which lasted until they said I looked like a serial killer.
Not sure what it is now…
thinning, turning white, perhaps
a recall of ids, egos, & superegos
announcing how youth is wasted
on the young…the fingers
checking to see if it is still there,
jealous of how peacocks still prance
poetically & proud in a muster.
Mister Manchester England England,
letting the sunshine in, once more.
Bryan, your poem illustrates quite a journey. I like how you use hair (literal and symbolic) to reflect on self-expression, aging, ideals of freedom, disillusionment, and hope. I love your humor and sense bittersweet nostalgia. Your references to Hair are spot on. I like the hopeful ending with a nod to two songs: “Mister Manchester England England, / letting the sunshine in, once more.” Happy Easter!
I could read this over and over again and still notice new things so cleverly inserted or have a question about. So thought-provoking! I am very drawn to this line:
Ooh, well done! So many allusions– super clever!
Susan,
I am a huge musical fan and Hadestown is one of my favorites! While I didn’t see it on Broadway, I did see it in the Broadway tour series at Playhouse Square in Cleveland. It was fantastic.
I decided to use a song from Hadestown — “Wait for Me” — as well.
Wait for me, I’m Comin’
The natural order
We live. We die
This finite life, a tiny blip in time
A moment rushing by.
A moment rushing by—
Energy, never made nor destroyed
You bloom in unfurled daffodils, sway in blades of green grass,
rest in the fertile loam.
You burn through the universe—
my hope, my light.
Though years may stretch before our souls unite,
wait for me.
I’m coming.
Tammi, the idea of this life being only the blink of an eye is real and palpable here today, especially on Easter. I love everything about your poem, especially the last three lines –
Though years may stretch before our souls unite,
wait for me.
I’m coming.
The hope of the next life prevails!
Ooooooh, this is so heartwarming! I love the reminder of our universality! I’m in awe today of the beautiful lines people are creating, likely amidst Easter gathering. Thank you for taking the time to share this today and to remind me
Tammi, wow, I love the energy you’ve captured in this poem. The movement is striking, and I adore your line: “You bloom in unfurled daffodils, sway in blades of green grass,” Love the ending, too! Fantastic poem!
Susan, there’s so much depth to the words “we know how it ends.” Not only within our lives but within every story told. Your last stanza reminds us why favorite lyrics linger and why we replay them again and again. I bow down to Phantom today, inspired by the line “our lives are one masked ball” – you might recognize a few words from Masquerade.
Bal Masque´
celebrating deception
has become the norm,
entertainment sold for free–
dumb down the masses
let them live for cake
fool and king are one
taking turns, going round
breathing lies as easily as air
paper faces prepared
we celebrate the mask
Wow, Jennifer…you take the idea of the mask and Phantom and Masquerade and our current political culture and combine them so skillfully in a few well-crafted lines. So impressive.
Jennifer–
I loved Phantom of the Opera and your poem.
These last lines —
“breathing lies as easily as air
paper faces prepared
we celebrate the mask” — so thought provoking!
I love how you have explored the symbolism behind the mask in a current context.
BOOM! You tell it like it is here, Jennifer. Fool and king are one – a favorite line of the poem today. Say mask in this day and time and so much comes to mind. I loved Phantom! And to think that Andrew Lloyd Weber created the role of Christine for Sarah Brightman – – what a voice!
“entertainment sold for free–
dumb down the masses”
so so true – was just discussing this with my sophomores recently. Good conversations about how horrible entertainment is these days.
Susan, what a wonderful prompt! Congratulations on retirement! I’m jealous. There must be that standing on the diving board feeling for you right now. I can’t wait for you to let us know that the water is just fine and I can jump in, too!
I’m fortunate that my life has allowed me to ‘hit rewind’ and live to tell. LOL. A great line in your poem that makes me smile.
Like many, I’m celebrating Easter today. Happy Easter, all! My hubby and I walked to sunrise service and it’s already nap time. Ha! Easter puts me in the mind of the musical, ‘Godspell.’ I have many good memories of seeing the show and singing the songs.
Day by Day
Day by Day
Precious Lord
Please make a way
for me to learn your real
tend to what must heal
live by your love ideal
Day by Day
Oh, Linda, what you have done with “Day by Day” is beautiful. I have that refrain in my head now, but your lines tie in so well with Easter that I want to memorize your version and sing it on repeat. You capture what I want to know and learn about our Lord.
Linda, what a beautiful connection between this Easter day and ‘Godspell.’ Your words feel like a healing prayer, calling to me to repeat them at the beginning of each day. Our family is struggling through a serious health concern right now and I’m going to use your prayer-poem as a way to start my days ahead. Thank you for that.
Linda —
I love the message of hope and healing in your poem and the reminder to “live by your love ideal”
Linda, such a reminder that life is indeed day by day. Mine lately seems hour by hour and some days minute by minute……this is such a beautiful way to celebrate Easter in your poem today.
Linda, thank you for taking me back to a wonderful time in my life. I remember seeing Godspell in the movie theater and feeling so inspired. I love your poem and prayer. You have me feeling inspired again.
Fellow soon-to-be retiree here! And I get this line in my gut “trying to delay the closure.” I am at the countdown of 5 weeks left. After 38 years, it is bittersweet.
My favorite musical is Waitress. I’ve seen it done at the Saenger in New Orleans and have also watched the Broadway show with Sarah Barailles on TV. Recently I watched the original movie it was taken from. My favorite song it “You Matter to Me”.
You Matter to Me
I find sea glass treasure in your eyes.
You look in my heart as a mirror
and smile for the picture frame.
You matter to me.
I sing a lullaby love song
and you think I’m magical.
You say “I love you” like they’re
the easiest words to say.
I know your love is true
innocence of a 5 year old mind
simple and free with no baggage
or judgement. You see
You matter to me.
Wow, Margaret. What a great first stanza especially “you look in my heart as a mirror” and “you say ‘I love you’ like they’re / the easiest words to say”. How beautiful to describe the love of a 5 year old
Margaret,
We both approach such exciting times, not without emotion and some worry.
I saw Waitress—also at IU. It was a wonderful story. I’ve been meaning to watch the movie (I love Keri Russell!) and this is motivation to do so!
Your poem is short and powerful with images that leave me in awe, namely
You need to use Canva to capture these lines with some subtle images and print it, frame it, and hang it. It’s so beautiful and sweet.
Wow! That opening line is stunning and so is the next and the next. A wonderful refrain of your favorite song. Enjoy precious moments today. And, take lots of pics!
Oh, Margaret! Each stanza is as beautiful as the last. I knew immediately who this was written for in that mirrored heart and the “I love you.” All of that innocence and magic reflected in someone so little yet so full of life. Take in the hugs and the laughter today!
Margaret — Absolutely Love this first line —
“I find sea glass treasure in your eyes”
I feel the love resonating in your words. Beautiful poem!
This is lovely – – sea glass treasure is a beautiful way to start out with an opening line here in this lyrical poem. Love it!
Margaret,
this is so tender.
What a beautiful way to show the love of truly looking at and seeing someone.
Margaret, what a beautiful, tight, loving, & beautiful poem. Love the line “I find sea glass treasure in your eyes.”
I don’t know the musical, but I LOVE this beautiful poem. That first line . . . I love the image of a sea glass treasure.
So much love in your poem today, Margaret! As many noticed, your first two lines are stunning! It could be a poem in itself.
Hi Susan!
Happy Easter. Thanks for all the choice today. I don’t get to see too many plays although I’d love to see more. My favorite is probably Hamilton, even though I’ve never seen it live. “It’s Quiet Uptown” breaks me. I love thinking about this idea from your poem: “to know how it ends
and still begin
is what we all do every day.”
Also, that last stanza, definitely.
I chose to write about LSU, my Alma mater. Thanks for throwing that option in. I immediately thought of a Facebook post I wrote in 2015 and turned it into a poem.
I miss LSU and classes and learning and listening to professors and taking notes and discussing literature and writing essays and walking to class and riding my bike through the beautiful campus and running along the lakes and tailgating and karaoke at Mellow Mushroom and Drunken Fish and Hello Sushi and that albino squirrel. -Original post: August 23, 2015
I still miss LSU
If I could go back I would
I met my best friend here as a random roommate
I wish I could see her everyday again
Cook meals together, laugh when she is scared to death of frogs
Go to Wednesday karaoke at Mellow Mushroom and drink too much
Sing “No Scrubs” very badly without a care
But it’s going on 2 years since I’ve seen her.
I’d love to be contemplating going
back to campus for my masters
if that was the case there’d be no question.
To ride my bike to class
past any of the thousand hundred year old
oak trees that adorn the paths.
Grab a CCs coffee before class starts
find a seat,
listen to the professor,
take notes,
discuss literature,
write essays.
But I’m dreading going to school online.
After a long day of school and homework,
I’d decide to order Hello Sushi –
gogo roll, bomb roll, miso soup,
eat, watch a show, just relax all by myself.
I’d even love to work at Drunken Fish again. Free pho whenever I worked,
this is where I learned of pho,
now my most favorite food ever.
The workers would laugh that I ate it every day
even though everything they made was good too.
Chris, the Vietnamese owner,
would throw parties for all the workers
on holidays and we’d drink too much Heineken
and karaoke to Vietnamese songs.
No, I don’t know the language or the songs
Didn’t matter, they loved it.
But for the past seven years I’ve lived in places where pho doesn’t exist
and definitely not bosses like that.
And every now and then,
I’d see that albino squirrel,
unique, just like the campus.
This year is my 15 year reunion &
I’ll always be a proud alumni.
Forever LSU
Angie,
Thanks for taking the time to write on Easter morning! I had no idea when I signed up for a day to host VerseLove that I had chosen Easter.
This is such a wonderful reflection on your favorite things from your beloved college. You capture so many details that make it clear you had a very rich experience there. I enjoy hearing about things unique to LSU and your time there.
The thought of online school—compared to what you experienced—sure doesn’t hold the same appeal.
Angie, I am an LSU grad (albeit 43 years ago) and it never leaves your soul. It helps that I met my husband there and we’ve had 2 daughters attend. We’ve been back many times. Go Tigers! So funny that you mention the “albino squirrel”! My sister missed LSU so much that she moved back to BR. Her son, my nephew, is a sophomore. He was on the drum line in the band. What a dream come true! I cried when I first saw him play on the hill.
Hi fellow alum! I could totally live in BR again. I didn’t even put in anything about Tiger band, football, tailgating, etc. then the poem would be too long! That’s awesome your nephew is in the band! Wow!
Awwwww. I love the love you have for LSU in this. What great memories to build a career on. Just think, some young person will catch that love from you and attend LSU too someday. I think of this poem as embers from a wonderful campfire.
Angie, our college years have a pull that never fades, the memories hold tight and strong–maybe it’s the independence and freedom without the weight of the world yet realized or the fact that the world is opening doors we never imagined. Thank you for carrying me into your college days. I felt them as if I had lived them.
Angie —
These lines made me smile —
“…on holidays and we’d drink too much Heineken
and karaoke to Vietnamese songs.
No, I don’t know the language or the songs
Didn’t matter, they loved it” but also got me thinking about how college is so much more than attending classes and writing papers, it’s about opening our minds to new experiences and perspectives, learning about people. I hope you are able to take a trip back to your campus.
Angie, what a perfect way to pay tribute to your school. I love the squirrel – – Billy Collins always says to “bring in a spider,” something unexpected in a poem – – and here is a squirrel. An Albino squirrel to symbolize the uniqueness of place. Love it!
Angie, I knew there was something connecting us beyond poetry–LSU! My doctorate is from LSU, my daughter graduated from LSU, we lived by the Northgate of LSU in a condo right across from Burger King and CVS. Forever purple and gold! If you come for a reunion, give me a holler. We live in Ponchatoula now, but it’s only 45 minutes away.
Thank you for sharing so much today!
Happy Easter, Susan, and thank you so much for being our host today. I absolutely love this prompt. So many great lines from Broadway shows, and I have a clear favorite. Mine is from Les Miserables: to love another person is to see the face of God, sung by Fantine, Eponine, and Jean Valjean in that last scene that I can always hear but rarely have seen clearly for the tears that blind me. Both my daughters were in the high school production of this play, so I’ve seen it more than any other show and still it is my favorite. I’m going to an Easter Sunrise service this morning at Callaway Gardens, so I’m planning to use a line from a song I hear there on Pine Mountain to inspire my poem today and will return later to write and to read all the wonderful poems. I look forward to these today! Have a great day!
Happy Easter!
And here is my poem for today using lines of hymns and the most unexpected voice
Honk! Honk! Honk!
we watched the Cliff Swallows
coming and going from their
mud nests under the eave
of the dock as we waited
for the service to begin
off they went, and back again
as we sang
out of the silence
the roaring lion
declared the grave has no
claim on me
and then we heard them
overhead, coming our way
Honk! Honk! Honk!
right smack dab in the middle
of the Callaway Gardens
Easter Sunrise Service
here they came, flying around
the people
commanding our attention
I counted twelve
and the loudest
Canadian Goose was
the one in the back
Immediately my mind
went to the twelfth disciple
Judas Iscariot
who betrayed Jesus
for thirty pieces of silver
leading to His crucifixion
this cup Jesus asked to be
taken from Him in the
Garden of Gethsemane
my mind went into
wondering mode
as I sat in Callaway Gardens
hearing the twelfth goose
honk, spurring the pastor
to remark
isn’t that a beautiful sound?
(laughter from the crowd)
that’s how the goose gives praise!
another hymn sung
but drops of grief can ne’er repay
the debt of love I owe
here, Lord I give my self away
’tis all that I can do
Judas, the Greek version of
the Hebrew name Judah,
means Let God be Praised!
the one disciple not from Galilee
the one who betrayed his friend
the one whose evil actions God used for His purpose
the chain of events starter leading to our salvation
the twelfth one by whom God was not blindsided
the one who hanged himself with regret in the aftermath
holds a message for us
that there is hope for all of us yet
that God uses evil for good
here was the twelfth goose
circling us overhead
honking the loudest
on Easter Sunday morning
to the masses below
Honk! Honk! Honk!
Let God be Praised!
Let God be Praised!
Let God be Praised!
as we closed in song
Because he lives
I can face tomorrow
Because He lives
all fear is gone
Because I know
He holds the future
And life is worth the living
Just because He lives!
I disagree with predominant
Christian belief that Judas is in hell.
I believe he had a change of heart at
the eleventh hour, fifty-ninth second
(he was twelfth for a reason)
and that he was the loudest
God-praising goose
Hallelujah!
Wow, what a poem Kim. You were definitely inspired by a unique “spider” – the Judas goose! What a merciful belief you have here and I love it so much:
Happy Easter!
Kim,
what a beautiful co-mingling of two influences on your life—scripture and nature.
I love your ending:
Kim, Your poem reminds me of Madeleine L’Engle’s theological poems. They brought us into the here and now while leaving lessons of the Christian story. You take us on a journey of thought here interspersed with lovely hymning praise. Thanks. Any one of us could be that 12th goose.
Kim, wow, what an amazing poem. I love the point that God uses evil for good, although I accept this, I also find this the most difficult truth. Your poem should be read to children because I am sure they would love to sing along with: Honk! Honk! Honk!
Let God be Praised!
Let God be Praised!
Let God be Praised!
Your closing stanza is provocative. Thanks for sharing this magnificent Easter poem.
Kim, this is an unexpected voice, and that God-praising goose is the reason. I loved your story, and honk-honk, and your explanation of Judas. The final stanza could become a topic for debate, but I agree the change could happen in the last second. I guess we’ll never know. Honk! Honk! Thank you for this gem today.