Welcome to Day 5 of the March Open Write. A very special thank you to Stefani, Katrina, and Denise for inspiring our writing and taking such good care of our hearts and minds this month. If you have written with us before, welcome back. If you are joining us for the first time, you are in the kind, capable hands of today’s host, so just read the prompt below and then, when you are ready, write in the comment section below. We do ask that if you write, in the spirit of reciprocity, you respond to three or more writers. To learn more about the Open Write, click here. Will we see you in April for National Poetry Month? Pledge to write with us here.
Our Host
Denise lives in Bay City, Michigan, and teaches English at the local community college. In October 2022, she experienced a mild stress-induced heart attack during a school work meeting, and mild is all she cares to know when it comes to heart attacks. She has a great heart – according to her cardiologist – who advised her to get her stress under control. She has obliged by cutting back on work commitments (which she highly recommends to all teachers!) and spending more time with the love of her life as well as on her favorite activities: reading, writing, artwork, yoga, meditation, and moving around out in nature. She also continues to enjoy editing NewPages.com, an online resource promoting literary magazines, publications and contests for young writers, small presses, indie bookstores, and creative writing programs. And of course, she’s always thrilled to have time with her Ethical ELA peeps!
Inspiration
This concept came to me as a result of my sense of humor and my love of wordplay, which I credit mainly to my father. He enjoyed when puns would crop up in daily language, and he had a coworker who would often mix metaphors, which he would jot down and share with us at home. I likewise enjoy mixing up language and the silly superfluous use of hyperbole (ha! get it?), which is how I came up with today’s prompt.
I do NOT know if this is a form someone else has already developed. I did as much ‘research’ (aka Googling) as I could and could not find any ‘instructions’ for such a beast. So, I’m taking full credit. At least for today! Please feel free to modify this to your whim’s content. Follow it, don’t follow it, create your own twists and turns, but above all else – share with us! I will love to see what you come up with.
Process
Take a metaphor or idiom and reverse it or twist it up in any which way you choose – mumbo jumbo jam it!
Then write from the “sense” the new phrase makes. It may be total nonsense. That’s perfectly fine! It may provide a ‘feeling’ or strike a memory chord or a fantasy chord with you in some way that inspires your poem today. Just go with it! (Ah, but some are actually quite bawdy, so be careful – or shock us! Tee-hee!)
For example:
The early bird gets the worm.
Reversed: The early worm gets the bird.
Some More Examples
Bite the bullet. / Bullet the bite.
A chip off the old block. / A block off the old chip.
Every cloud has a silver lining. / Every silver lining has a cloud.
Throw caution to the wind. / Throw wind to the caution.
Take it with a grain of salt. / Salt it with a grain of take.
Pour one’s heart out. / Heart one’s pour out.
Light at the end of the tunnel. / Tunnel at the end of the light.
Cut to the chase. / Chase to the cut.
Rain on someone’s parade. / Parade on someone’s rain.
Here’s a site filled with options, or you may have other resources to consult:
150 Useful Idioms with Examples, Sentences & Meanings | Leverage Edu
Denise’s Poem
The Early Worm Gets the Bird
For too long, every day
I felt beaten, battered, and abused
by the system always out to get me
until, one day, awakening
I realize my own internal strength and fortitude
I set out to break down
that which has so long oppressed me
I see it for what it truly is
a tired repetition of the way things have always been
I break away, break free
simply stop feeding into it
stop giving it all I have
and instead, take from it what I need
what I want, what I dream of
through my defiance and independence
I shape what each day will bring
and nourish my own soul
for a change
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.
Denise, thank you for the challenge. This was not easy. But, I came up with something that is relevant in my work life right.
Walling Me Up a Drive: Golden Shovel
Walling himself; refusing my help, and mostly ignoring
me in avoidance. How do I avoid not giving
up when everything I’ve tried has not been
a success? I guess, I’ll have to dig deep for the
Drive to keep showing up whether he likes it or not.
It was a long day with an eight hour meeting followed by the joy that is parent conferences (I had one parent). Here is a quickly written tanka (Harryette Mullen style). Thank you for another lovely week of poetry. I look forward to April and 30 poems!
Make a Molehill Out of a Mountain
So many issues that can explode into
a panoply of exhortations
and overreactions instead of calm.
Truth. Hope today is better. ❤️
Oi! I think you have just described my “workplace drama” of late! (Are you sure you’re not spying in?! Or, sadly, is this just so common?) I appreciate your joining in after such a long day – you have compatriots in exhaustion here who understand, but I love this little tidbit, so thank you, Cara! (And I will be stealing “a panoply of exhortations” – at least to journal about work meetings – blech!)
Denise, thank you for helping us look at things from upside down in a speaking of manner. I started with a phrase that annoys the heck out of me, “with that being said,” and well, it devolved from there.
With that not being said, I said it.
Lies be told, because why bother with the truth?
Some things are better left said.
To tell the lie, I cannot,
Because sometimes fiction is truer than strange.
Katrina, loved the linguistic turns of this one — and the fact that you managed to play with so many idioms in this and make them all work cohesively was so very cool. 🙂
Katrina, these poems today are comical to me because we hear the familiar idioms and proverbs but they are tweaked. “To tell the lie, I cannot, / Because sometimes fiction is truer than strange.” Ha!
Amen to that! I love what you did here. I went for the traditional metaphors, but there are some doozies of contemporary idioms that I never thought to twist up. Ones that also annoy me, so next time, I will seize those little nuggets and try twisting them and poeming them as you have done here. Thanks for the inspiration, Katrina!
Katrina, I love the different flips you made in your poem like “with that not being said” (with that being said) and “lies be told” (truth be told). So clever!
Katrina,
Oh this is lovely and as convoluted as the origin phrase itself! You pulled in so many other saying that irk and swerve from real communication–nicely done!
Denise, this was great fun! Loved your poem and its light, hopefulness, and inspirational message. Thanks for facilitating our play today.
My favorite friends
are the ones who digress:
their narrative journeys
a God-awful mess.
Instead of a short tale
they dabble in song:
in improv. And, jazz-like,
Their tale takes too long
(to others, perhaps
but never to me):
the ideal conversation
winds interestingly
through turns and through twists–
then loops back to beginning
(“Where were we again?”
we inquire, both grinning)
Way leads to way
and thought leads to thought
with nuggets discovered
initially unsought
And though this takes time
and some friends have no patience,
the ones who’ve smooched Blarney
pay proper obeisance
to slow-winding tales
that skimp no detail
and never let more succinct
killjoys prevail.
(The moral of this poem –
Correct me if wrong –
is never neglect
to make a short story long.)
Priceless, Wendy! I chuckled at the twists and turns, admiring the “nuggets” all along, especially never letting “more succinct killjoys prevail” – then that moral just nailed it. I have often told my husband he makes a short story long, LOL. #truth
Ah, yes, Wendy! There is such beauty in digressions, such “nuggets”! And I love your “moral” in your last stanza: “never neglect / to make a short story long.” Lol! Thank you for this!
Wendy, well-played! I cracked up when I saw the moral of the story. I knew one was coming–not quite sure what–but when I saw it, I said, “Yes!” Then I had to go back and reread it to see the magic in phrases like “succinct / killjoys” and “some friends have no patience” I also loved those two stanzas that transition like this:
It just seems another amen to your theme, the story going long…
Having gone through some “stuff” lately where having THAT friend and being THAT friend has been the greatest gift, I truly appreciate what you have captured here. We sometimes abbreviate our troubles and strife because we don’t want to burden others – but those who have indeed “smooched the Blarney” are both givers and receivers and know each other when we’ve found them! We also need to just. slow. down. and. listen. to one another in our lives. There is no greater gift than just listening to someone. I LOVE these lines because I think they get to the true heart of the matter: “Way leads to way / and thought leads to thought / with nuggets discovered / initially unsought.” Just like writing! Thank you, Wendy!
Wendy,
This is so much fun and reminds me of a friend who can tell a tale with so much detail that I feel I might have actually been there! Thank you for the meanderingly appropriate poem/story,
A podcast I listen to sometimes introduced my to the phrase “Yuck my yum.”
Yucky Haiku
By Mo Daley 3-22-23
I love you because
no matter what life deals me,
you can yum my yuck
This is too cute Mo! How wonderful it is to have someone able to yum one’s yuck. Now that is love. 🙂
Haha! Loved this and (despite the message of my poem above), brevity was the soul of wit here, Mo! <3
ADORABLE!!!!
🥰
Mo, fun! That is true love.
Both are hilarious and sweet in their own way, Mo. I am going to have to seek out that podcast. I mean, the title alone insists it deserves a listen! The flip on it reminds me of so many sayings about how true love is someone who loves you despite your flaws. This includes loving yourself. But yum my yuck is way more fun to say! Thank you!
Denise, I lve your poem so much that I shared it with colleagues. We want to print it and hang it in our workspaces! Thank you for this wonderful exercise.
Here’s where I’ve landed…
The Wall on the Writing
In prehistory
cave-dwellers
dipped their fingers
into animal fat
charcoal
their own earwax
then dirt and ash
to paint their stories
on the walls
by flickering torchlight
over time
many caves
collapsed
to be reabsorbed
by the earth
In the course
of human migration
the region of the caves
became a fortified city
with iron gates
and great stone walls
one of which
was constructed
over the buried caves
It is said that at this wall
the great orators
gave their mighty speeches
humble petitioners
made their prayers
poets composed their epics
chroniclers penned histories
and storytellers
found their words
I do not know
if the wall
or the legends
are real
but I do know
that when
hit a writing block
that I cannot
go over
around
or through
if I dig
deep
deeper
deeper still
within
I will find
the words
just human DNA
finding its way
with story
waiting
deep
deeper
deeper still
beneath the wall
on the writing
Fran, your poem’s process is magical. I love how you start with the writing on the cave dwelling walls and end with digging deep to find a way to keep on writing! Sheer genius!
Oh, wow. I love the way you shifted the line lengths and it feels so much like physically digging down to read that. The historical context/set-up is also so cool, like a prompt all its own entwined here. I honestly just thought to say, “I dig this” – ha! But I do. This particular image stuck – “over time / many caves / collapsed // to be reabsorbed / by the earth.” There is something about that – it feels both destructive yet renewing. The idea of a cavernous cave falling in – into its own space – and being reabsorbed – as though it belonged, filling that space the whole time. Something beautiful/ethereal about that that I can’t quite put into words but that is going to stay with me for some time. Thank you, Fran. (And *blush* at your compliments to my poem – I’ve copied so many lines from these monthly events – posted sticky notes all over and in so many notebooks. Mutual Appreciation Society!)
Love this idea of digging deeper deeper for words, as if you are enveloping yourself in one of those caves of yore…just beautiful, and oh so clever a turn of phrase, “the wall on the writing.”
Fran, this was just terrific! Just an enthralling retelling and beautifully rendered.
Fran, this was such a beautiful journey. I admire how you took this prompt and ran with it! It’s super creative.
Fran, I love the phrase “I will find the words just human DNA finding its way with story.” You remind us of how integrally linked our very being is with story. It reminds me of the expression, “written in our DNA.”
I always enjoy the way that you bring some history and weave in a special meaning and feeling with your poems. You always manage to write with your own unique style!
Wow, I’ve been so impressed with the really wonderful ideas and poems that have come today. The wall on the writing wasn’t just a funny twist on a familiar idiom, it has become a history lesson and a treatise on writing our hearts. So beautiful, Fran.
Fran, it’s so cool how you showed that stories are within our human DNA, that we can trace the presence of stories throughout history. I think your poem also shows the intentionality that is needed for writing stories–we have to make time and space for it, but there’s something within us that loves stories (and, for many of us, loves to write stories). I also like how you talked about digging deeper to find something to write about. That is so needed sometimes. Thank you for sharing!
Denise, your poetry style is brilliant. Thanks for such a fun and creative prompt. Since I’ve done a lot of biting in the past, and since I’m trying hard to bite the bullet often, I had to go with the bite the bullet idiom.
Chunk
I
knew thought
doing was I
damn but
ouch, smack, whiz
bullet the bite
cheeks right between
hard bit—
help!
Barb Edler
22 March 2023
Barb, I love the idea of “bullet the bite.” I read it as take no crap.The phrase “hard bit” drives the point home.
Barb – I am wincing!! I see this as a workout gone wrong (!!) or a hammer landing where it shouldn’t have. I feel the need to cry for help, myself!
A definite jumbling but at the same time pointed directly in feeling. Funny how that works out. I love the “ouch, smack, whiz” sound words. In the same way there is ‘Yoda speak,’ I feel like this syntax could be developed into its own cultural language. Thanks, Barb – you took it to a level of serious fun with this one (or is that fun serious?).
Ouch! Cheeks right between, oh my, that is a “hard bit.” You have captured the stress feeling/sensation of this hard action.
Haha! Barb, I don’t know if you were going for that moment when you bite down hard on the inside of your cheek (which I just did yesterday, and may that’s why this made me think of that!)…but that’s what I took away from it, and this captured that experience super effectively!
Barb, lots of movement and I feel pain and hear the onomatopoeia of the cacophony of utter yikes.
It sounds like you are trying to bite the bullet here, and it’s not always easy. You hear that throughout your poem. Well-played.
Tunnel at the End of the Light
Today the sun shine
throws light down the line,
brightening the past
from first day to last.
But oh, filled with woe.
Ahead the tunnel is foe.
Impossible to mend
Light almost to end.
I imagined this one would be good for capturing a darker mood, and you’ve done just that, Emily. Funny, too, because today – midday – it was so gloomy and dark, it felt like nighttime and we had to turn on the lights inside – yet, it’s officially spring! I’m intrigued by the “foe” in this poem and what it might be that’s “impossible to mend.” I love the mystery you created – makes me want to write the story behind this. Thank you!
Emily, your poem is brilliant. I love the end. “Light almost to end”…very provocative! Fantastic use with rhyme here, too.
Emily, this poem is dark, but you remind us to take advantage of the light while we have it. At least, that’s the message I get. Thanks for that reminder.
Great rhyming! The lines “Impossible to mend/Light almost to end” intrigue me – this idea that the light shines on past and future, and it all ends up shining on overall brokenness. A sad twist of a poem!
Emily, I loved the way you played with this metaphor and gave it a whole new, sadder and more ominous meaning: very cool and creative.
Emily, I love the meter and rhyme you have here in your poem. It’s cool to read your form here! You made a clever twist with the idiom “the light at the end of the tunnel” by pointing out how there can be tunnels at the end of the light too. That reminds me of the obstacles and hardships that come after life is easy and good. But, hopefully, the light at the end of the tunnel returns. Thank you for sharing!
Thank you, EthicalELA for a fun five days of poetry!!
Denise, thank you for today’s inspiration. I think this line in your poem is especially insightful “simply stop feeding into it” and such a great play on your early bird/worm idiom…
I am known for my incessant puns in my family – so this really should be ‘write’ down my alley…alas, I don’t think this day is going to allow for it. I am going to have to come back to this later… for now, I’ll offer a simple poem about my two-year-old granddaughter’s favorite play these days: bright sparkly shiny things.
sparkles
it may not turn to gold,
but what she touches
invariably
sparkles
shiny pebbles
bright sequins
polished gems
bright beads
smooth marbles
flash gleam glisten play
it’s all about the bling these days
one lustrous activity after another
find some bins
fill containers
stuff a purse
snap, zip, pop, close, open
pour them out, of course
hide hold haul handle with care
repeat as needed
over and over
and over again
for a gem of a day
together
Maureen,
I love the spunk of this poem, the snappy pace of the words feel like a glistening of syllables for me that have indeed made my gem of day sparkle: “flash gleam glisten play.”
Sarah
Maureen,
Grandma love shines through each line of this bright, shiny poem. I see you glowing beside Bird and Frog.
Lovely, Maureen, and a gem all its own. You MUST make these poetic moments when they come to you so you can capture these moments to savor in memory – and someday share with that little gem herself! I was immediately enraptured by this, because I just see children as sparkly little beings all on their own, so this one just shimmers and shines all the way through for me. I also LOVE the “hide hold haul handle with care” line. Thank you for joining today!
Maureen, absolutely adore your end, and “it’s all about the bling these days”. I can feel the love shining through this poem:)
I love this, Maureen! I know the great wonder in those little eyes and the greater joy of being there to witness it. “One lustrous activity after another” and “a gem of a day,” indeed – can’t think of anything I’d rather do. It is perfect.
Maureen, your use of alliteration in “hide hold haul handle with care” makes me want to hug you! Thanks for the reminder to take advantage of the day and care for those in our care.
Maureen, I loved the upbeat and positive feel of this! I don’t know why, but I just especially loved the play on words in those last lines. They just made me feel good.
Maureen, I can just see little hands moving at the speed of light to “snap, zip, pop, close, open.”
Denise,
What a fun prompt, but one that also can take very creative thought. This would be fun to use in the classroom for sure.
Acts of Love
A thinker and a do-er
more than a talker.
Acts show love
Doing denies laziness
At times, his reticence
drives me crazy
but the deeds he does
shows more commitment
than all the Hallmark cards
in the world.
For many,
it’s easier said than done
but for my guy
it’s easier done than said.
And I’ll take that any day.
~Susan Ahlbrand
22 March 2023
Oh, Susan, I am going to hold onto this line today “Doing denies laziness.”
Sarah
I think you have just closed a major communication gap here, Susan. For so many, doing is easier for them than saying, even if what they do isn’t perfectly done. Words are themselves a poor substitute for all the thought and feeling we hope they represent. Your willingness to accept is actually the greater action here. There is a two-way street of generosity expressed in this relationship – how well matched you are! Thank you!
Susan, this speaks volumes! I imagine “acts of service” is his love language and it must be yours too. I prefer being in the presence of those who DO more than they SAY! Yay, you!
Susan, I can totally relate to the kind of guy you describe. I often have to remind myself that my husband shows his love through actions. Love the positivity of your final line.
Oh how I love, ‘but for my guy/it’s easier done than said” – I’m reminded of that book about love languages. We show our love in different ways, and all are welcome.
Susan, I love the appreciative tone of your poem, as demonstrated in lines like “it’s easier done than said.” How lucky “your guy” is to have someone share love like this in verse.
This is a cool prompt, Denise! It’s cool to read about these different idioms. Writing this was challenging for me at first, but I like the product!
Up a creek without a paddle / Up a paddle without a creek
Worrying about having
A paddle to get out
Of the creek…
But I’m not in a creek.
For me
It’s easy to worry about things
That have not happened.
So I will work on
Not worrying about a paddle
When I’m not in a creek,
When I don’t need a paddle in the first place.
Larin, very fun poem. I get the sense that you’re a worrier and that’s what your poem is all about….trying not to worry about things. I could take a note off that page any day! I really enjoyed how you set the line “But I’m not in a creek” off by itself. Very clever poem!
Larin, you closing lines are a fine reminder to stop worrying. When we do, recall the poems, like yours, we’ve shared here on OPEN WRITE and sit patiently and await our rescue, enjoying whatever and whoever is around us. You work and I’ll work with you. Okay?
What a cool mantra, I think “But I’m not in a creek” – love the teaching of this poem. Stop our worrying!
Larin, The struggle is real! Second-guessing and worrying about things before (if) they happen is so true! Thank you for writing this (and for the line to stop “worrying about a paddle / When [you’re] not in a creek”)!
Larin, your creek and paddle metaphor makes me realize the power metaphor holds in making things appear worse than (or better than) they actually are.
A Pitch Meeting
(of sorts)
We open on
a cartoon
turd
(nothing gross
nor off-putting)
two flies
chillin’,
doing
whatever
flies do
(I don’t
really know)
but one
turns to
the other
and simply
says,
“Don’t gloat,
Jerry. It’s
unseemly.”
(Now, we
don’t, yet, know
what precipitated
the comment,
but don’t worry,
we’ll find out
during some
backstory)
We hold a
long pause,
a full beat
on the two
until the shot
cuts to a
black screen
with white
text:
As a Fly Crows
Based on a
True Story
_________________________________________
Thank you for this prompt, Denise! It was fun twisting around various clichés. I started with “as a crow flies” which led me to a “crowing” fly (and then a fly who had to “eat crow,” but not, you know, real crow because that would have been gross. Lol.) All in all, this whole thing felt very “Far Side” comic to me when I was finished, and that made me happy! So thank you!
Oh, Scott. Yes, it is FarSide-ish and very funny. I love the screenplay directions and the reference to the back story we can get later about why the fly is crowing. So cute!
OMGosh, I was actually envisioning something very Far Sidian before I read your comment, I love the cinematography detail included in your poem. Those parenthetical remarks made me laugh out loud, “but don’t worry, / we’ll find out / during some / backstory” – it made me envision a character (the narrator) breaking that third wall. I wish I would have thought of ‘as a fly crows’ – ! I would maybe have written something funnier. Thanks Scott!
Your poem does capture the “Far Side” tone. Your opening is captivating, for sure!
I am rolling in the floor! This needs to be its own cartoon. The dialogue is tremendous and I am a person who loves parenthetical asides. I adore this, Scott!
Yuck! Hahaha! Oh my goodness, this is hysterical.
Denise, what fun! I like how you wrote a serious poem about an underdog taking back its power. I sensed a sweet pun in honor of Dad: “simply stop feeding into it”
In the spirit of playing with words, I wrote some nonsense today about the idioms: jam on the brakes, egg on your face, left in the cold, eat like a horse, sell like hotcakes, take a rain check, and like a cakewalk.
Smoidi
Brakes on the jam
Baby in a pram
Face on your egg
A girl named Meg
Cold in the left
Rock with a cleft
Horse like an eat
Ride on the street
Cakes hot like sell
What is that smell?
Check rain a take
Jump in the lake
Walk cake a like
Fly on your bike
Totally fun and playfully rendered here, Denise. And yet, I see so many of this that I hadn’t thought about that would be fun to explore further, like “Walk calk a like.” It sounds like complete nonsense, but for some reason, that stirs an image in me – ?! I could actually see kids really like this kind of poem as well, since they may hear how the metaphors is turned around, It opens imaginations up wide. Thank you for exploring and sharing that bit of fun today.
Denise, your poem reads a lot like a Dr. Seuss story. It would be a perfect children’s poem. “What is that smell?” Somehow that line really had me giggling! Very fun poem!
This is a true work of art, Denise! Your wordplay is amazing and utterly fun. It could be such a great thing to do with kids. I can see cutting idioms apart and putting them back together in different ways to think of hilarious rhymes, to kids’ delighted laughter. I think my favorite is horse like an eat!
Very playful words, Denise – and I am imagining singing along to jumping rope, or hopscotch. Super fun!
Denise, I love the word play in your rhyming couplets. I can see kids jumping rope (assuming they still do that) to “Walk cake a like/Fly on your bike.”
Denise, this has a neat jingle, and I agree – very Suessical. This is fun and jingle-y. Jump in the lake is funny – and a fun image of movement along with walking and flying on the bike.
😂 😆 you made my day!!! Excellent !!
This is such a fun exercise for the old brain. I love the determination and confidence of your poem, Denise. My cousin was in town last week participating in a Plein Air (Art) competition. His picture did not get into our local paper, so I texted him, “Sorry, you are not famous…yet!” And he responded, “Best to keep that chip on my shoulder.” So that is what drove my poem this morning.
Chips
There are good chips
and bad chips,
chips that crunch or
chips that splinter your shoulder
making sure
you don’t
get a big head
and fall over.
Keep that chip steady and balanced.
A moment of fame
won’t feed the flame
that drives you forward.
Margaret, what a great poem. Did you share it with your cousin? I love the message. Being in the paper or not isn’t what drives him forward. I love the subtle rhymes within–they make it very satisfying to read. shoulder/over and fame/flame. Wonderful.
I never would have considered it being good to keep a chip on the shoulder, but it does indeed make sense as its owner’s internal motivation. It’s such a violent image, “chips that splinter your shoulder” but also a sense of the symbiotic in needing it to keep “steady and balanced.” I also appreciate your humorous encouragement – that “yet” is such a powerhouse. Thank you!
Margaret, thanks for sharing the back story to your poem. I really enjoyed the play with good chips vs. bad chips and how they physically can impact someone. Your final line was perfectly delivered!
I love this poem, Margaret. Those ending lines really give food for thought:
So much wisdom in this playful-sounding poem!
“Keep that chip steady and balanced.” Love this! Bravo to your cousin, for both their creativity and their humility of attitude.
Denise, your prompt made me think about other poems we’ve written this year, so I’ve sorta combined themes into our culminating poem for this month: Thanks for the opportunity to reflect and collect ideas for today.
Silver Cloud Crowd
Let me say it LOUD!
You know what can happen in a crowd!
You’re glad to be there
But must beware
They’re not all there for you
They say they’re celebrating you
Your work they’ve put on view
But jealousy shows up too
Moss-green envy clouds the silver
They’d been showering on you
Plinks on the head like raindrops from a cloud
Fragments in the silver line the greenish crowd
But they don’t stop you from feeling proud
Of that day last week when you smiled
At the stranger standing stiff in that crowd
The stranger is now here, eager to cheer
Your smile made them lose that fear
That smile is enough when things get rough
Not too tough. It’s the silver lining in the cloud
Anna, nice. I like your description of your poem, too. Reflecting and collecting–good practice! “Silver Cloud Crowd” is a fitting and catchy title.
What an interesting depth this takes with the layers of envy and jealousy, taking those and turning them from green to silver. That’s some alchemy there! I loved this line, “Plinks on the head like raindrops from a cloud” because I could immediately feel that cold plop on my scalp. I NEVER would have called it a plink before – no name for it (plop seems so ineloquent), so I’ll be using that from now on! Thank you for the month-mash-up, Anna. It works so well!
Anna,
I see echoes from yesterday’s poem here with the stranger and love thinking about out the strangers from yesterday are showing up in your poem to cheer!
Sarah
Love the focus on clouds and the photo – with a wonderful message; this line, especially – “Fragments in the silver line the greenish crowd”…love this.
parade on someone’s rain
prance in the mist
of anticipated gifts
strut through steam
of upset dreams
swagger under sleet
too weak to restrain
process upon monsoon
persisting, resisting pain
you are welcome
to parade with
all my rains
alongside me, but
do not parade on my rain
for the march is ours
to make together
All those p’s pop in this poem. I love this idea of parading on (or with) someone else’s rain. Consider yourself parading with us.
What a beautiful image, Sarah. Yes, “the march is ours / to make together.” I also love the rhymes in the first two stanzas and the idea of “anticipated gifts”
Oh, maw. I love how this flips on the power switch in so many of these phrases – strut through steam, swagger under sleet, process upon monsoon. I’m all for these kinds of ‘standing up to it all’ attitudes. And most especially love the way it becomes collaborative in the end, but also by showing the reader the way. Power shared becomes strength here. Love it, Sarah. Thank you!
Sarah, for some beautiful reason this poem feels like our strike song today. Rain, cold and prancing and dancing on the picket lines.
👊🏽 ❤️
In solidarity. I’ve been listening to the news on this and thinking of you, friend.
Awesome opening, Sarah. It’s been misting and raining all day so your opening “prance in the mist” completely drew me in. I feel that need to “swagger under sleet” and appreciate the shared togetherness offered at the end.
Sarah,
When I started the poem this morning, I listed five idioms that I thought I could work with and this was one of them. I’m sure glad I went in a different direction because your output is brilliant!
I love the distinction between parading WITH versus parading ON. That togetherness is key!
How we need to “parade with” others’ rains, but not subvert or manage or deride…beautiful.
This was fun. It put a smile on my face and sent me down a rabbit hole into my childhood back in the Missouri Ozarks.
Hillbilly Girl to Hillbilly Boy in the Back Seat of a ‘69 Chevy
if i let you
hickey doo
next time
you’ll wanna
jiga ma thing
with your
whatchamacallit.
could never can’t
heart your bless or
sugar some
gimme after the
roost comes
home to cow.
now OFF! i’m
about to handle
your fly pop
your full &
wampus your
catty in one
swoop fell!
—Glenda Funk
22 March 2023
—————————————
doohickey
thingamajig
whatchamacallit
can’t never could
bless your heart
gimme some sugar
after the cows come home to roost
i’m about to fly off the handle
i’m so full i could pop
cattywampus
in one fell swoop
Wow! Brilliantly played!
Glenda, thank you for this. I love this play on words…wampus is my favorite. I would love to hear you reading this;)
I’ll post a video on Flip this weekend.
Great, I look forward to it.
Bwahahaha! This is so fun!
Glenda, brava! “Heart your bless or sugar some gimme” made me laugh aloud. It’s like we know the sayings, but hearing them mixed up just adds such a fun twist. I can’t wait to hear you read it on Flip!
OMGosh! Am I the only one blushing here? This is so risque – or is it?! I’m going with YES and on purpose, too! How utterly playful and fun, Glenda. Just taking words themselves is enough and scrambling those. Yes, agree that this is one that would be fun to hear recited – I would never be able to do it without laughing out loud at the fun of it! Thank you!
OMG, you are so good at this! Such a hoot!
You have me in stitches, Glenda. I absolutely love the naughty tone and the innuendo throughout this. Too much fun! I think your poem would make a wonderful graphic poem! Delightful poem! I’m still smiling!
Oh this is wonderful! You did have fun. What a script – I can see a young twosome in the backseat of an old Chevy….
Denise, thank you for hosting today and for such a fun prompt! I finished with my poem early because we are back on the picket lines this morning and this old back was worn out yesterday. Your poem is like a daily affirmation that everyone should recite, especially those of us who’ve taken control over our lives. Thank you for such a powerful poem.
A Haiku in Honor of Ornithophobia
A bush in my hand
Roses, hydrangeas, snakeweed
Better than two birds
© Stacey L. Joy, 3/22/23
Big shouts of gratitude for the hosts this month! I was inspired and encouraged everyday and can’t wait to do more with your ideas! I love you all! 💙🌹
Love this quick turn around. I do love a beautiful bush, but I am partial to my birds: cardinal at the feeder, wood ducks in the duck house, and yesterday I saw a bright yellow warbler nesting in our nesting box. These sightings delight me.
I was meeting with a woman outside (Covid days) in my courtyard and I had hummingbird feeders. She admitted to ornithophobia and we had to reposition so the hummers didn’t frighten her. I thought it was funny. She, not so much.
Ha! Seriously better to have flowers than birds in the hand. Ew!
Stacey, ha, this is clever and to the point. I hope the picket lines result in change! Thank you for all you do.
Actually, I agree with Glenda, those bushes are better than two birds in my hand any day, for sure. Even for someone who is not ornithophobic.
I’m thinking of you today as you strike. Peace and success!
Stacey- we both wrote about birds/bushes. Love your haiku and the word: ornithophobia!
Just wonderful!
Who needs those birds anyway, right?! : ) I love the shift to focus on the specifically named bushes here, Stacey. Nicely imagined and shared. And all the power in the world to you in your colleagues – IN SOLIDARITY!!!
Stacey, the twist at the end is perfectly delivered. I love how you build toward that finish. I’m just imagining how tired I would be right now if I were in your shoes. Hang in there! Hope the picketing helps!
I love this, Stacey, even though I love birds! I see you standing majestically with laurel on your head and your mighty rose-hyrangea-snakeweed bush in your hand, like one of those goddesses of the harvest!
Nice, Stacey. Every time I see a surprising bloom on one of my walks in Oklahoma, I think of you taking your walks in California. This is lovely haiku that depends on the reader reading the title, which, for some reason, I skip a lot of the time. Including “snakeweed” stirred just enough snake imagery to incite a little fear just before that last turn to two birds.
Peace,
Sarah
Stacey, thank you for refocusing our vision on the bush, whether it be “roses, hydrangeas, [or] snakeweed.”
Stacey, you know I love a Haiku! This one has the unique blending of plants tying the lines together, and I like how you did this! Like vines.
Thank you, Denise. This was a great way to play with words this morning!
A bird in the bush is worth two in the hand
A bird in the bush is worth two in the hand
A bird in the beautiful bush
The bush with shining green leaves
and glistening red berries
That bloom in the spring
Blossoming into giant white
Flowers fragrant with possibility
A bird who perches on top
And sings so sweetly
All is at peace
All is right in the world
She spreads her colorful wings
And flies, and flies, and flies
And is fearless and free
Up into sky she goes
Beyond the beautiful bush
Into the world of my imagination.
Yes! A bird in the bush, especially if they are nesting in your yard. (See my comment to Stacey.)
I love the twist at the end of your poem with the connection to “my imagination.” Thank you for sharing.
I like the way you turned this saying around. The description of the beautiful bush in various seasons is gorgeous. And I like the message that the one free bird is better than the two captured birds.
I was not at all expecting that ending, and I love how I got swept up into it. I was wholly along for this ride with your beautiful descriptions: shining green leaves, glistening red berries, giant white flowers. I was also struck by that line break between Blossoming into giant white / Flowers fragrant with possibility. I love that little hitch step in there that both joins but also separates those two elements. I’m reading this one again! Thank you!
So much beauty, peace, gratitude, and inspiration in this, Joanne. “All is right in the world” – recalls Robert Browning, in some of the poetic lines I love best.
Thank you Denise, this was a nice way to wake up my brain today. Thank you for hosting.
Baaaad Sleep
sheep count snores, nightmares
intimate acts, blue screens
il-lamb-inating weary
eyes hugged in pillows
clenching, grinding
wooly, wasted,
woken hours of
horizontal-ism
morphing our
our bodies as we
wait for REM
Stefani,
This is clever. Love the alliteration in “wholly, wasted, woven.” Sometimes I wonder who is counting, too.
Baaaad sheep! Such a funny poem. You turned counting sheep into a dystopic nightmare here.
Baaaaah! : ) This is HILARIOUS only because I had a terrible night’s sleep last night – and I’m like, How did she know?! I was all in at “clenching, grinding” – ugh – I wear a bite splint and have broken through crowned teeth (so, yes, I need to deal with my stress!). The ‘morphing’ image also stood out to me – it’s the desired transition that we await and await and await. Captured so well here, Stefani. Thank you!
Oh my gosh! I love the sound of this poem – wooly, wasted, woken hours… Just wonderful! Thank you!
Ohhhh, how you’ve nailed the “Baaaad Sleep” nights!
I hate when I know I’m doing all the opposite things that bring on sleep.
Get some rest tonight!
Denise, what a fun way to play with words! This game you played with your dad is witty and zany and fun. I had a student light years ahead of her game, an artist, who was the punniest person I’ve ever met. She’d decide on a theme and we would jab back and forth all week in passing with puns or idioms on that theme – and this reminds me so much of the variation of the word game you played with your dad. I chose a Haiku today to celebrate my new chicks. I just brought them home yesterday. They hatched on my mother’s birthday, 2/19. Thanks for this new twist! I’m glad you are taking time to nourish your soul. As I read your bio byte and think of my own stress levels, I realize I need the same. Thank you for the reminder of the importance of self-care. And thank you to Stef, Katrina, and you for investing in us as writers this week.
Welcome, Spring Chickens!
Nine Easter Eggers
I didn’t hatch my chickens
Before they counted
Eleven candled
Only three-quarter dozen
Made it out alive
Kim, welcome to your sweet new chickens. “Easter Eggers” is precious, and reminded me of a time when I was little someone in my family got a baby chick for Easter somehow. It lived in our bathtub until it was big enough for the backyard. Then it became a mean rooster and bothered us and the neighbors, so we took it to my friend’s house who had a yard full of chickens. I’m glad your sweet babies have an adoring human nurturer to take care of them.
Who could ever read this and not awwww out loud? Such a sweet captured seasonal moment here, and the truth of the cycle of life, which sometimes never has a chance to get started. It’s all just part of the game. Lovely connections with your own word play, Kim – which I think says so much more about the friendship/relationship than anything else. Aren’t those kinds of people (her to you/you to her) just gems in our lives?! And yes, mind the stress – you are truly the only one who can control it. And you can. Lessons learned just keep on coming! Thank you!
Awww, Kim, I do think baby chicks are the only birds I can love! Perfect title!
🐣
Your title has such a positive warm welcoming, but the end is sort of sad. Good luck with your chicks!
YEA to the chicks’ homecoming!! I am seeing the candled eggs…and I mourn the lost two even as I rejoice for the nine. I know fun names are coming… and now I want chicks! :O
Denise, this was a great deal of fun, though I have no idea what sense it makes. A true Mumbo Jumbo! What a way to get the day started, backwards.
Affairs
It’s time to block off the old Chip,
I thought,
to do unto you
as you have done unto others.
I hoped you’d leap before you looked
as you’d bridged your burns,
paraded on my rain…
but you’d chewed off more than you could bite
while thinking bliss is ignorance.
and I had a grudge to bear
so I threw wind to the caution,
called in my boys
to book the hits
and ground fresh breaks,
to put ice on something,
to bring the ground to an ear
(your ear),
to hatchet the bury,
so to speak.
But the beat(down) missed a heart,
the situation became danger with fraught,
and my cold grew feet.
So I skinned my own jump
and sacked the hit.
Jennifer, the rescattering of the words made me stop and read slowly so I could process what I’ve developed automaticity to process the original way. Like retraining my brain to think about it a different way. I like the way you brought in a lot of the different idioms and sayings and blended them up into something new. The title got me going down the road of someone misbehaving and paying the ultimate price! I like the twisted way of thinking on these lines.
Wow, Jennifer, I love your “(your ear)” and “so to speak.” You have woven them together perfectly and nonsensically, just what we needed today.
OMGosh, Jennifer – ! This is a mic-drop poem if there ever was one. I could totally hear this spoken out loud in my head, almost like a battle of the metaphors. I was NOT expecting a whole poem like this, but how incredibly fun! So many of these flipped around have such different attitudes – I feel a lot of ‘challenges’ in here. Nicely rendered!
I love it! It makes perfect sense to me and my past journey with my ex.
Oh, how this resonated with me:
It’s amazing how you used so many idioms in new ways! Brilliant!
I am blown away at this stacking of so many mumbo-jumboed idioms! I could only handle one! It makes wonderfully strange sense. Paraded on my rain is one of my favorites (hoe dare anyone!) and my cold grew feet – honestly, cold could now take off running in dozens of directions – I just love it all. Fabulous fun to read!
Fly, pigs, fly
find the sky
don’t worry
why the
ground is
passing
you by –
for you are
a wondrous
contraption
build with levity
to imagine
soaring up high:
so fly, pigs, fly
The flying and the ground passing them by – – what an imagination you have as these pigs fly!
I always appreciate the unique and humorous perspective your poems can provide, Kevin. And, as a fan of pigs, I am on board with this take on the metaphor. Love your encouragement for the pigs of the world; may they indeed fly high! Thank you!
Yes, when pigs fly! Today! “For you are / a wondrous / contraption” Indeed!
Once in 6th grade, a very long time ago, I had to speak to the class for me minutes about flying pigs. I was so nervous, but it ended up being so fun. I love your poem. You captured the whimsy perfectly.
Kevin,
Your poem makes me happy!
🐷
This is fun, Kevin! And I love the lines “for you are / a wondrous / contraption”!