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

Our Host

Alexis Ennis is a 6th grade technology teacher who calls herself a “bookdragon” because of her voracious appetite to read and hoard all the books. She is passionate about sharing her love of booksand does this through various platforms such as her Legit KidLit YouTube channel, Read to Write KidLit podcast, and newsletter on Substack. Poetry is her preferred style of writing. You can find links to her various social media accounts in her linktree

Inspiration 

I have had a lot of life happen and anxiety has been amped lately, so I felt it was time to do things to renew my energy and myself. One of the things I chose to do was join a crochet-along with Hooked on Homemade Happiness. It is a mandala blanket pattern that is released in parts over 10 weeks and it’s brought me such peace. It encourages me to slow down, learn new stitches, and watch something beautiful emerge. I am finding peace in each stitch and joy in each row.

Process

Vocabulary:

  • Ode: a poem that celebrates a person, idea, place, whatever. What is something that has brought you peace that would you like to celebrate? That’s your topic.
  •  Mandala: an instrument of meditation and represents the universe. The symbols and patterns used in the design allow us to both express ourselves and find ourselves. 

Let’s begin.

  • What has brought you peace that you want to celebrate?
  • Close your eyes.
  • Envision your topic. 
  • Take deep breaths. Notice your feelings.
  • What brings you peace?
  • List your thoughts and feelings.

The purpose of this poem is to find peace and celebrate it, to renew your energy and bring in a bit of meditation. When writing, use repetition as your signal to breathe and reflect. Mandalas are full of symbols and repetition, so use that in a way to connect your words. You can repeat syllable counts. Words. Phrases. Line numbers. Whatever you find pleasing.

Alexis’ Poem

Ode to crochet

I search through the tangles
(like my thoughts)
for an end in the yarn ball next to me
and pull
watching as it slowly un-spirals
(like my thoughts).

I clench the hook
knuckles white
and begin my chain.
The chains are small
close
tight
unyielding
(like my thoughts)
The foundation is too tense
unable to move forward
build something new
(like my thoughts).

So I pull the string. 
Unravel.
Frog.
Flex my fingers.
Smooth the yarn.
Take a breath.
Try again. 

Pull up a loop. 
Breathe.
Pull up a loop.
Breathe. 
Build the foundation.
Strong and even. 
Steady and sure. 
The yarn works its magic
as it weaves this unique blanket
out of what once was 
a tangled mess
(like my thoughts).

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.

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Demry Voelkner

Oh, you quiet keepers of dreams,
bound in paper, ink, and time,
each page a door to a new adventure,
each word is a new realization.
You carry lives both past and yet to be,
a thousand voices, each one different.
In your embrace, I am comforted,
I can be a traveler, a queen, and a dreamer.
Your guidance speak when silence fills the room,
a lantern through the darkest gloom.
Books, you are my home, my internal guide
forever lost, yet always found inside.

Kratijah

Thank you for sharing this prompt. I have recently been trying to crochet then viral rose blanket that’s trending on TikTok and can very much visualise your poem.

An ode to the ocean.
I have spent hours by the shoreline building sandcastles in the sky… 
I used to dream that stars will magically align
and like a game of dotted numbers, my universe will eventually rhyme
But morning washed over me with a series of tornadoes and tsunamis, of foreign lands amidst the seven seas
Where do I go? 
Who do I meet? 
How do I know? 
What do I need? 
We’ve all had dreams, we’ve all had hopes… 
But unless and until, we do not transform them into conscious streams, we will always be hiding in corners looking confused at crossroads
Meet that ocean lying ahead of you!

Take that leap, 
Soak these feet 
Feel the ebb and the flow as they touch you gently 
Almost caressing you and your soul 
Look at how the see meets the shore and goes back 
Gradually get in the water 
You will thank me later 
Get yourself afloat, swim and dream 
Dream of hope, of love and of peace
Where the ocean and you are one
And lose yourself where the sea kisses the sky.
find a new world waiting within your eyes.

Dave Wooley

I love the progression of your poem, and the turn after the “morning washed over me with a series of tornadoes and tsunamis” really sets up the hope and peace that you explore in the 2nd stanza. That concluding couplet is great!

Dave Wooley

Alexis, thanks for this invitation to contemplate what brings us peace. It’s been a hectic Sunday, so this is a bit rough, but here goes:

It’s our ritual
Read. Pray. Breathe.
In the absence of sense
and the presence of a world
feels like an exploding kaleidoscope
of chaos and uncertainty.

when we don’t know who
might be coming for us,
why they might be coming.
or what, if anything, we might
do about it,
when it seems like everything
is spinning out of control–
spinning just out of our reach,
we control what we can…

We can choose to step out–read
Center ourselves in faith–pray
And reset our mind and body–breathe.
It’s our ritual
to renew us
for another day.

Denise Krebs

Oh, Dave, I needed to read this today. I just refreshed the page and saw your poem. I like the Read. Pray. Breathe. at the beginning, and then finishing the lines at the end of your poem. Lovely. That middle stanza had me. I like how the chaos, uncertainty and the spinning out of control is sandwiched between the rituals of read, pray, breathe.

Kate Sjostrom

Thanks for getting me to contemplate what brings me peace!

Ode to Chopin’s Nocturnes

I’ve been to the rooms Chopin shared
with George Sands and her children
in Valldemossa, up roads winding 
through olive groves on the island
of Mallorca. They had three rooms
in the old monastery built as a palace
for the king’s son, but that was 
centuries before, and it is almost 
centuries now since Chopin lived there,
but his piano—an upright Playel—
looks so familiar in those white plaster-
walled rooms that I can’t imagine 
it’s been so long. He waited so long
for the piano he thought he’d die,
which is what he went there not to do,
convalescing among the citrus blossoms,
the island air. But the piano was 
what he needed. And it was delayed
and delayed, such that when it finally 
arrived, after braving the waves 
from Marseille, music rushed from him
in fevered currents—the preludes, a
scherzo, a mazurka, a polonaise. None 
of my beloved nocturnes. I was disappointed
to learn so as I inched through the cold cell
where he’d composed, reading the framed letters, 
sheet music, maps. But really, it was all wrong:
this damp, close space where the Spanish 
sunlight couldn’t seem to reach. Before 
and after, he wrote nocturnes, but not here. 
My sister with whom I agree on so much
won’t play the nocturnes, finds them 
melancholic. I had never thought of them
that way, but now I detect their pensive pulse,
one Chopin may have feared would take him
closer to the gloom looming in that 
tubercular room. Somehow the nocturnes
always, always bring me peace.

Dave Wooley

Kate,
This is a fascinating poem that sent me off to google Chopin and Sand’s relationship. And then your disappointment as you explored the space where you imagined he had written the nocturne’s, but hadn’t. Your speculation that resonated with me that perhaps Chopin didn’t write the nocturnes there because he was trying to keep his illness at arm’s length.

Kim

Alexis–the perfect invitation on the perfect day! Love your ode to crochet and the meditative qualities if offers. No one will be surprised to find me write yet another ode to the sea–it is truly my place! (Although the unexpected street fair made things more difficult than usual on this not-yet-summer Sunday)

Ode to the Sea

Traffic crawls
lot’s full
secret parking is not so secret today
a sea wall of humanity
lines my beach
(I’m not mad, everyone should have a relationship with the sea)
As I walk, the sea wall falls away
ocean whispers in my ears
untangling thoughts, urging my shoulders to drop
briny breeze tickles my nose
ruffles my hair
urging me to breathe in and out
in rhythm with the waves
whimbrel whistles
egret sways in the surf
crabs creep with their sideways shuffle
the wonder of wild creatures
wraps me in a cocoon of comfort
relieved and ready
to reenter
a peopled world

Kim Douillard
4/27/25

Blog post with photograph: https://thinkingthroughmylens.com/2025/04/27/ode-to-the-sea-npm25-day-27/

Kate Sjostrom

I love that you’re “not mad” that others at “[your] beach”! Sharing joys always makes them grow…!

Dave Wooley

Kim,

The sounds of the wind and the water through your all iteration and subtle rhymes really evokes the sea. I love the “briny breeze tickles my nose”! I’m landlocked where I live now and I SOOO miss the sounds, smells and proximity of the ocean! Thank you for the slight taste of salt on my lips after reading this!

Sharon Roy

Alexis,

thanks for hosting and prompting peace.

I like how both your breathing and your creativity find a calming rhythm:

Pull up a loop. 
Breathe.
Pull up a loop.
Breathe. 
Build the foundation.
Strong and even. 
Steady and sure. 

—————————————————

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

grieved
concussed
sprained
sidelined

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

today a white-tailed kite
kited across the sky

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

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

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

a common nighthawk
fluttered, soared and dove

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

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

thank goodness 
for the balm 
of birding

Mo Daley

The balm of birding- I get it! I thought about writing about birds today, too. I love all the gorgeous birds you wrote about today.

Last edited 16 days ago by Mo Daley
Kate Sjostrom

Oh, do I love the “silly” egrets! I wasn’t expecting that image and it was as joyful a surprise as “a dad / blowing a raspberry / on a baby’s belly”!

Fran Haley

Sharon, how fascinating is that description of a snowy egret’s sound-! I have never heard it. Throughout your poem I marveled at the vibrant avian life, grateful to experience it all through your eyes, and that they bring you such peace during this hard year. I, too, return thanks daily for “the balm of birding.”

Ang N

Ode to a Sunrise

Up before the sun
Peaks over the horizon
How it looks
So simple
Coming up from the edge of the ocean
Creating unimaginable colors
As I sit on the ledge
Looking out at the ocean
With the breeze messing up my hair
Fresh air filling my lungs
A feeling that couldn’t be replaced
So, I will get up at the crack of dawn
Pulling myself out of bed
Barely making it in time
To sit on the ledge
Take in these beautiful moments
Where the sun rises
With the world still calm
And my mind finds peace
While I watch the sunrise

Mo Daley

This sounds amazing, Ang. I like the contrast of you pulling yourself out of bed to catch this moment of serenity.

Sharon Roy

Ang,

Thank you so much for sharing the peace of your sunrise pilgrimage with us.

These lines made me feel like I’m right there with you:

How it looks

So simple

Coming up from the edge of the ocean

Creating unimaginable colors

As I sit on the ledge

Looking out at the ocean

With the breeze messing up my hair

Fresh air filling my lungs

So refreshing!

Kim

Ang–yes! Thanks for taking me there to watch the sunrise with you. You must be on an opposite coast from me–my sunsets fall into the edge of the ocean.

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Oh An, your poems remnds me of the first time we stayed at a bed and breakfast on Half-Moon Bay! Your description of the sun rising as though it has never happened before, but we know it’s been happening since the dawn of creation. Hmmmm. the dawn…It’s it great we have something great to look forward to every day, because our Creator is dependable.
Thanks for the memories. Don’t see scenes like this much in Western Michigan. I’m near the lakes, but not near enough to watch the sunrise regularly. So, I really appreciate “seeing it with you” at 10:00 pm EDT. Ah, daylight time. The sun’ll be tomorrow. Yea!!!

Wendy Everard

Alexis, your mandala (and your poem that accompanies it) are just beautiful! And I subscribed to your Substack. 🙂
Cooking totally calms me after a chaotic day, and when a week goes by that I don’t do “real” cooking, I yearn for it.

First steps 
of the ritual 
are always 
the same:
Wipe down 
the countertops,
the stove, 
of crumbs 
and sticky spots.
(Now we’re cookin’.)

Line up ingredients,
removing them
with reverence
from refrigerator.
Be sure to
appreciate
textures, smells.
colors.
The way the knife
blade glides
through the avocado’s
Yielding skin.
The fine yellow zest
accumulating 
on a grater, 
fragrant.
The way sifted
ingredients swirl
and form a whole.  
Now we’re cookin’.

The smells developing,
enveloping the kitchen.
Sips of wine between
recipe steps, music
from tinny speaker
or turntable.  
Chef’s kiss from 
family when 
steaming plates
are 
labeled,
ladled,
brought to 
table.
And I know that 
I ate.
Now we’re cookin’.  

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Wendy, your vibrant descriptions make me long for whatever it is you are cooking. I particularly like the olfactory images that arouse memories of the aromas I smelled that drew me to the kitchen even before the table is set! Thanks for the memories.

Leilya Pitre

Wendy, you are making me hungry. Your pacing through the poem is so soothing, and can almost place myself next to you where “the smells developing, / enveloping the kitchen.”
love your repeating line:”Now we’re cookin’.”

Sharon Roy

Wendy,

your poem is so calming and nourishing. I feel like you’ve cooked not just for your family, but for yourself, and for us as well. Thanks for the feast!

Kim

Wendy–I like the way that cooking for you is such an experience rather than a chore! I love the ritual aspects and the admonition to take the time to appreciate textures, smells, colors. Yum!

Scott M

Wendy, I love the juxtaposition of “new” slang and “old” slang: “And I know that / I ate. / Now we’re cookin'”! And I really enjoyed the word play and rhymes behind “[t]he smells developing, / enveloping the kitchen” and the “steaming plates / [that] are / labeled, / ladled, / brought to / table.”

Mo Daley

Ode to Meditation
By Mo Daley 4/27/25

Practicing meditation
Is my kind of medication
I connect to my inner being
As my mind I am freeing
I become more self-aware
And my blood pressure doesn’t flare
I breathe in deeply, letting everything go
My sympathetic nervous system begins to slow
Mind, body, and spirit in harmony
I love this joyous feeling ardently

Stacey Joy

I am in agreement! If only we can have more time to connect to our inner being.

Love this:

I breathe in deeply, letting everything go

My sympathetic nervous system begins to slow

Enjoy your peace, Mo.

Mo Daley

Funny you should mention that. I started to write about wanting/making more time, but I thought, no. Just let it go!

C.O.

Sounds like the perfect affirmation meditation track to listen to while lying on the floor. Thank you for sharing the calm

Leilya Pitre

Mo, this is a great way to find peace by connecting to your inner self. I have a Mindfulness app with Fitbit, but often I skip meditation.
I like the smooth, gliding flow because of the end rhymes. They work well; most of them end with vowels allowing me to slow down and relax.

Ang N

I loved how you phrased it. I feel it really brings that emotion and lingering lines very much into play.

Cheri Mann

I went for a walk today because nature brings me peace. I took some liberties with the distance in my poem (because it was more than just a few steps), but the images and scenario with the family really happened. If you want to see pictures to accompany the poem, I hastily put them into some slides here.

A Sunday morning trail walk
Soft earth underfoot
A few steps
to a moss-covered statue
and ancient graves

A few more steps
a mother groundhog and baby
out for breakfast
A chapel facade under a blue sky

A few more steps
an iron bridge
and a tree with an open mouth 
while the Carolina wrens serenade.

A few more steps 
The slender trees reach for the sun
A trio of cardinals playing.
A female tags a male
“Tag, you’re it” she chirps
Then flits away.

A few more steps
The trickling of the creek
Fragrant honeysuckle overhanging the trail
Thick grapevines hugging trunks 
The whisper of the wind
Gentle ripples on the lake

A few more steps
A couple sits on a wooden bridge
Their young son is set to try a massive leap across the creek. 
I almost tell him I’ll try if he makes it
but reconsider my agility and hold my tongue. 
He gets a running start and launches himself,
splashing down one foot in the middle 
before landing on the other side. 
We chuckle. 
He winds up for another go. 
I believe in you, I say. You can do it
Another massive leap.
So close that time. 
We chuckle again and I bid them a good day
like the one that I’m having on
A Sunday morning trail walk. 

brcrandall

Oh, Cheri…you are making me miss Kentucky at this time of year…especially before Derby weekend. You painted all of this perfectly.

Cheri Mann

Thanks, Bryan. It was quite perfect. Give it a week or so and the mosquitoes will have taken over. lol

C.O.

I love all the playful little stops along the way in this poem. Very soothing to picture in nature. Thanks for sharing. Loved the repetition.

Ang N

I love this so much! I used to take walks all the time to clear my head, this just made me want to start goin for some walks again.

Sharon Roy

Cheri,

Hello fellow birder! I also wrote about birds today. Thanks for bringing us so vividly along on your walk.

The repetition of

A few more steps

gave me a sense of calm and joyful discovery.

I love how your walk connected you — and us— with the play of both birds and humans.

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Alexis, your prompt and poem reminded me of growing up having to crochet right or have it unraveled so I’d have to start again. So, I extended that memory to walks along the beach. It’s interesting how one memory evokes another totally different—handmade to God-made. Nature!!!

Stress Due to Mess

Crocheting makes me tense
A lot of it just doesn’t make sense
Counting stitches makes me think of witches
Who wouldn’t release me till I get it right
Even if it takes me all of the night

But watching a slew of big birds
Sitting and flitting on white painted fences
Or swooping across the cool sandy beach
Grabbing food from picnic tables in reach

Watching them whirling in flight
Makes me feel like joining them
Getting away from all the stress
Flying with them in damp flabby slacks
Wouldn’t have to be wearing a crispy clean dress
I’d look a  grand mess, but escape tension and mess
Of counting stitches to crochet.
I’d be released to peace!

 

Crocheting-27-April-2025

Anna, thank you for your poem and commentary on hobbies. I love the “whirling in flight” and “flabby slacks.”

Mo Daley

Anna, how great that you were able to turn a negative into a positive today! I almost wrote about birdwatching today. I find it so relaxing but also thought provoking, too. Today my grandson asked me if I was a professional bird watcher-LOL. I love that the birds make you feel like joining them.

Sheila Benson

This was a great prompt that I did not do justice to. Thanks for stretching my brain!

April in Iowa

Tuesday night:
The dog paced and whined.
No sleep for me.
No sleep, no peace.

Wednesday night:
Down to the basement,
Improvised window coverings to hide the lightning
Semi sleep for me
Semi peace

Thursday night:
All I have to do is keep the dog from seeing the lightning
Plan in place annoys cats
A bit more sleep for me
A bit more peace once cats are shut in the bathroom
Progress . . .

Headed into a stormy Monday:
White noise machine- check
Improvised blackout curtains made of cardboard- check
Plan to shut cats in bathroom if storms hit while I’m at work- check
Preparation = peace.

Sheila, sending comfort for that stormy Monday coming. Such intentional peace preparation.

Joanne Emery

Oh! That’s a lot of planning! I hope your dog appreciates it!

Cheri Mann

Such a perfect title. We are starting to see the same kind of Aprils here in Kentucky. I love the progression of your poem, each one a little more progress. Good luck to your furry friends–and you.

C.O.

Sleep is the ultimate peace! And I love this progression of preparation and correction. Hoping for a nice sleep for you soon!

Sheila Benson

Update: the dog figured out he can take himself to the basement if he gets scared, and it looks like perhaps the storms have changed course . . .

Maureen Y Ingram

Alexis, this prompt is just what this Sunday needed!

finding peace

burrow breathe begin 
again and again

make tender plans

step outside and 
search the sky
hold the quiet 
note the tree’s 
touch of cloud
how the breeze
sifts the leaves

make tender plans

write something 
small and kind
a card, a poem
play with words, 
play with rhyme
hold the quiet

make tender plans

dig in the weeds
slowly, seeking
hold the quiet
what is changing?
what is growing?
what is speaking?

make tender plans

invite a friend
to walk with ease
converse and laugh
open my heart
let each step
be release

make tender plans

stretch my body
simple moves
downward, over, up
holding
the
quiet

burrow breathe begin 
again and again
tenderly

Kasey D.

Maureen, the entire poem is an ode to tenderness- not just peace. There is a loosening and soft caress in each line. Your tone is perfect, and you’re right- peace cn be something we plan. Brilliant poem.

Chea Parton

Tender is one of my favorite words, and I love the idea of our plans being tender – intentional and soft even if they are subject to change.

I love the internal rhyming. “Hold the quiet” such a beautiful and tender image. I agree with Kasey that your tone is perfect. Thanks for sharing today.

Joanne Emery

Maureen, this poem helped me “hold the quiet.” Thank you. Beautiful space to dwell in for a few moments.

Kim Johnson

Maureen, holding the quiet – – what a cozy image. I love this stanza and will hold it, too:

write something 
small and kind
a card, a poem
play with words, 
play with rhyme
hold the quiet

C.O.

Hold the quiet is such a lovely and gentle reminder to be ok with the stillness. This is really lovely. Thanks for sharing these moments of peace

Ang N

This really just made me feel like I was sitting on a swinging bench with a blanket wrapped around me while holding a poetry book, reading this exact poem and feeling peace, tenderness, just life again. I love it!

Sharon Roy

Maureen,

What a beautiful refrain:

make tender plans

Susan Ahlbrand

I loved your parenthetical refrain and used it to motivate my poem.

Places of Peace 

On the couch, under blanket 
reading, watching, playing, writing
(alone with my thoughts)
In our bed, snuggled under sheets and comforter,
listening to a sleep story or a homily or a reflection of some sort 
(alone with my thoughts)
until drifting off to sleep minutes in.

In the adoration chapel 
in His presence
soft light, little noise,
save the whirling of the fan
(alone with my thoughts) 
and the soft sound of 
rosary beads moving. 

Behind the wheel of the car,
the Hallow app playing,
coffee in hand
(alone with my thoughts)
mindlessly traveling the 
same route each day to work.

At the casino,
surrounded by clinking,
buzzing, dinging, flashing,
(oddly alone with my thoughts)
repeatedly hitting the play button
watching for a win
mind emptying of all worry. 

Alone with my thoughts 
brings me peace
and what a peace it is 
after years of whirring anxiety
making peace impossible. 

~Susan Ahlbrand 
27 April 2025

Maureen Y Ingram

I know well “the soft sound of /rosary beads moving” – this was my mother’s favorite way to pray. What an unexpected juxtaposition in meditative sounds/being alone in your thoughts at both the casino (loved all the ‘ing’ sounds/movements here) and that of the chapel. Your peaceful poem has the subliminal message, I think, that one can become ‘alone in thoughts’ most anywhere, if one tries.

Chea Parton

“Whirring anxiety” This is such a perfect way to describe it. I just finished TJ Klune’s Somewhere Beyond the Sea and one of the characters describes it like having spiders in his brain. I think they would make a whirring sound – oddly soft but still disruptive. This is what I’ll think of every time I’m anxious. Thanks for sharing!

Joanne Emery

Susan, I love how you move us from place to place achieving and keeping peace. Beautiful ❤️!

Denise Krebs

Susan, that last stanza was a sweet surprise. I love the idea of your ability to be alone with your thoughts in so many varied settings, and then to see that “and what a peace it is” because of previous years of anxiety that had kept it away; that was a great relief and it offers hope to others too.

Heather Morris

Ode to the Trail

I step
onto the dirt path, 
look at the tree tunnel,
take a deep breath,
and let out 
a troubled sigh.
My shoulders 
drop
and a few tears 
release.

I hear the stream
down below,
whispering
its soothing babbles,
and I instantly
relax
as the Komorebi-
sunlight filtering 
through the trees’ leaves-
touches and warms
my body,
and I return
a grateful
sigh.

It is only
Nature’s gentle presence
that brings
me peace
these days.
The only
space
where I feel
accepted without judgement
is on the
trail.

Sheila Benson

Yes! “The only/space/where I feel/accepted without judgement/is on the/trail”– so, so true! Trails are good medicine, and this is a lovely poem.

Maureen Y Ingram

I can relate to this, Heather. There is such peace and restoration on a nice hike in the woods – it relaxes me so. You tap into this mystery in your poem with beautiful words like,

I hear the stream

down below,

whispering

its soothing babbles,

I love the structure of your poem, with the single word sentences – somehow, this visually reminds me of the different steps when hiking…some big, some small, depending on the terrain.

Chea Parton

I was there with you as I read this poem. I treasure my daily early morning walk when the world is quiet and no one is looking at me or judging me yet. Thanks for sharing this moment and chance to exhale.

Joanne Emery

Agreed! I love walking trails to find quiet and peace. Nothing does that like nature.

Cheri Mann

Hello, fellow finder of peace in nature. We chose the same beautiful topic today. I had to look up Komorebi (I didn’t catch that you defined it), and now I love it. I saw it today, too. A very soothing poem to read.

Sharon Roy

Heather,

Here’s to the healing power of nature. That was my topic today, too. Thank you for bringing us on your beautiful hike. I felt

My shoulders 

drop

and a few tears 

release.

And thank you for teaching me the Japanese word for one of my favorite sights:

Komorebi-

sunlight filtering 

through the trees’ leaves-

Kim

Wow! Nature’s gentle presence…sunlight filtering…whispering its soothing babbles… So happy you have the trail to soothe you!

Kasey D.

the memories we make

it’s the t rex made of clouds
the awe of dragon smoke
how many puffs were whales?

it’s the daring of mud on tires
the knots we tied to bright colored worms
how many times did you dip your toes?

it’s the blur of a sunset that chooses to linger
the laughter and discovery of goose eggs 
how many evenings can compare to this?  

Last edited 16 days ago by Kasey D.
brcrandall

it’s all of these….love that first stanza!

Sheila Benson

I really like these tight little memory pictures, Kasey. Your cloud watching sounds like lots of fun.

Maureen Y Ingram

Each stanza of memories gets just a bit bigger and bigger – as if your bounty of joy, love, and peace increases with each memory.

Joanne Emery

Beautiful images. Thank you.

C.O.

Incomparable. So lovely and precious. Thanks for sharing these memories.

anita ferreri

Alexis, your poem (and prompt) encouraging us to consider how we find peace amidst the chaos of life is an important one, especially during the recently stressful season in our country; yet, like you, I have also faced very challenging times. When I was searching for a place to land after a long-marriage ended, the last house I visited had a front porch with an incredible dark stained wood floor that has brought me peace.

At the front of the last house,
Flanked by a pair of well worn rocking chairs,
After a year of loss and upheaval,
She welcomed me to sit for a spell.

A gentle breeze, 
A promise of fresh air, a fresh start,
A few cars passing by
A reminder I was not alone, 
I put my feet up on the rail
I opened a familiar book,
I felt the support of all who sat here before,
I breathed for the first time, in a long time,
She was just what I needed, but didn’t know,
She was a space for peace. 

Kasey D.

This poem is lovely. I love the reflection of all sat before, all the support that is offered, when we dare to slow down, find some space, and reflect. This poem brought me peace, too.

Heather Morris

I can feel the peace through your words. I also love a front porch. Sitting outside brings makes me feel the same way. Beautiful poem.

Maureen Y Ingram

I got such wonderful chills from “I felt the support of all who sat here before,” – what a gift to you, to feel this at this hard time.

Joanne Emery

I never thought of a person as peace so I’m glad you did. Your poem creates a space to breathe. Thank you.

Barb Edler

Connection

when I call, she answers
lifting unspoken weight
listens with love
says all the right words

Barb Edler
27 April 2025

Glenda Funk

Barb,
This is a wonderful tribute to an unnamed someone. We all need to feel connected. Losing that was perhaps my greatest fear going into retirement. Finding someone who “says all the right words”
is an invaluable gift. You are a master at saying so much in brief poems.

Stacey Joy

I love this person! Everyone deserves a human in their lives who embodies unconditional love. 💕

Leilya Pitre

Barb, it is so great when you have someone like “she” who lovingly “says” all the right words. This is precious.

Last edited 16 days ago by Leilya Pitre
anita ferreri

Oh Barb, I can feel the friendship and love of your friend who is the perfect antidote to a tough day. Such a friend is a blessing for sure.

C.O.

Delightfully concise. We all relate to these lines and this safe person.

Heather Morris

Oh my, those calls certainly do bring peace. I think this helps me understand my need to talk to my daughter more often these days

Kim Johnson

The power in connection is so real… instant peace, instant understanding. All is right with the world and the weight is lifted when we hear hello?

Maureen Y Ingram

No better feeling than this, Barb. I love that you needed just a few words to offer such a beautiful ode.

Susan Ahlbrand

What a blessing to have someone to call…to listen and to say the right things.

Joanne Emery

Yep, we all need that kind of connection! Thanks for reminding us!

Fran Haley

She is a gift, Barb, this person who brings you peace by being there for you… in reading your lines again and again, I think: this is what Love is supposed to do. Love listens, says all the right words, lift burdens… is always there. So powerful.

Denise Krebs

Yes, like Stacey said, I love this person. “lifting unspoken weight” is such a beauty. Wow. I’m just sitting with that, thankful that you have someone who lifts unspoken weight. Would that everyone had a person like this in their lives.

Glenda Funk

Alexis,
Thanks for hosting. I thought about my grandmother crocheting and my regrets at never having learned as I read your poem with its lovely, intricate images of a mandala. i weeded flowerbeds yesterday. It was so gratifying, and it inspires my poem today.

Weeds

my husband calls
sunny dandelions &
lavender Canada
thistle weeds, an 
invasive species, so 
i kneel among the 
desirable & rejected 
blooms & groom each
flower bed, plunging 
my trowel into nutrient-
rich soil. i spy worms 
slithering through dirt. 
they hide in dark hollows,
nurturing grass as it grows.

i long to dig my roots 
deep into earth’s soil-
soul, wrap my out-
stretched vines round 
networks of taproots
like verdant weed
growing beside a 
tulip rainbow. i am
Walt’s grass anchored to 
freedom’s foundational 
principles, finding 
peace in a blooming 
grassroots movement 
arising piece by piece 
next to invasive species,
noxious doge weeds. 

Glenda Funk
4-27-25

Barb Edler

Ahhhh, Glenda, I love how gorgeous and peaceful your poem is. I love “i am/Walt’s grass anchored to/freedom’s foundational/principles”. I see so many layers within your poem from the desirable and rejected. How we can grow from nurturing and worms. The invasive “doge” weeds are noxious! So much to enjoy in your poem today!

Stacey Joy

Glenda, what a gorgeous piece of peace! I think you and I switched places today. 😂

These lines soothe me:

i kneel among the 

desirable & rejected 

blooms & groom each

flower bed…

🌷🌷

Leilya Pitre

Glenda, this earthly connection is certainly bringing peace. I am reading the lines and sense more than just physical experience here:
i long to dig my roots 
deep into earth’s soil”

This is almost meditative. Then you share “finding / peace in a blooming / grassroots movement / arising piece by piece.” The grassroot movement, to me, is also akin to a rebirth of sorts. Beautifully crafted!

anita ferreri

Glenda, your poem is perfection. Your line, “I long to dig my roots into earth soil-soul,” is just a perfect description of the feeling of earth between your fingers and the promise of new life that plants always provide. Perfect.

Kim Johnson

You are the master of symbolism and metaphor, and I love this. Those weeds, those worms, those invasive species. I can see it unfold, and you with a spiked trowel there in the garden. Smiles.

Maureen Y Ingram

And these weeds continue to fester if not for our vigilance.

Glenda, I love “i long to dig my roots 
deep into earth’s soil-
soul, wrap my out-
stretched vines ..”
These words capture the gift of gardening, how meditative and peaceful it can be. (Without a deadline of company coming, lol….)

Joanne Emery

Glenda, I was taken in by the peaceful growing, the way you become entwined with the weeds and then the surprise, the political statement. Your treatment of this subject was very creative.

Denise Krebs

Oh, wow, Glenda, good for you. What a metaphor:

i am

Walt’s grass anchored to 

freedom’s foundational 

principles

I love thinking of the resisters as being Walt’s grass anchored…So beautiful! Yes, “arising piece by piece” So wonderful and hopeful.

And your poem reminded me of Jesus’ story about the weeds in Matthew 13:24-29. When enemies planted the weeds in the farmer’s field, the farmer said, “Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat into my barn.” Hope, hope hope for a good burning someday. (Like in Stacey’s poem.)

Joanne Emery

I love – pull the loop – breathe. Such a great way to express that peaceful feeling from working with your hands. Thank you for the prompt today. It reminded me a of a memory and a poem I wrote awhile ago.

Zen



New York City school lobby,

I am waiting for my students.

A visiting Buddhist monk is visiting,

He is in the lobby walking in a circle.

There is not a sound

except the brush of his orange robes.

I watch him like I’m watching a living prayer,

He circles, he spreads colored sand on the floor

Creating an intricate mandala layer by layer

the colors come together,

Blue, green, soft yellow, pink, orange

swirl and complement each other.

I watch him and he looks up at me

for a brief moment and smiles,

I am inside a prayer with him

and I am at peace.

Alexis Ennis

I love this poem-I can hear the swish of his robes as he walks.

Barb Edler

Joanne, what an incredible experience to share. The colorful swirl of sand is magical. Your end sublime!

anita ferreri

Joanne, the image of a monk with pastel, swirling robes visiting a NY City school to share peace and hope and love is a wonderful image.

C.O.

This is really calming, visually as well. Thank you for sharing this small slice

Heather Morris

You paint a peaceful scene with your words. I want to be “inside a prayer with him.”

Leilya Pitre

Joanne, your poem took me on a prayer along, and by the final line I, too, feel at peace. It sounds like the monk was creating a magic by spreading colored sand on the floor.

Cheri Mann

“I watch him like I’m watching a living prayer”–such a beautiful line. And I love the sound of his robes.

Denise Krebs

Joanne, I love that you shared this “Zen” poem with all. I love the smile and your comment, “I am inside a prayer with him and I am at peace.” So beautiful! This is not my first time reading this. I think it was on a Tuesday at Slice of Life that you maybe shared it before. I’m glad to be able to read it again, and picture exactly what was happening with your stellar word choice and imagery.

Chea Parton

Thanks for this opportunity to ponder what brings us peace, Alexis! I loved your poem. Thanks for hosting today!

Learning to Play Piano

Dinner is done.
As I round up the waste
and rinse off now empty plates
I glance longingly at the piano. 

A new purchase and passion
the black and white keys glisten
as the sun makes its descent
into a rest of its own. 

There is some kind of raucous
game of chase 
happening upstairs. 

One step back from the sink
I ponder the point of it all.
Another furtive glance
Peppered by running feet above. 

Fuck it.

These dishes will still be here 
when I’m done. 

Before I turn the keyboard on
I make a silent triad 
Feeling the weighted keys buckle 
under the force of my fingers. 

I take a steadying breath.
Push the power button
And play C major 
An root octave in the bass. 
1 2 3 4 

When I find myself in times of trouble…
The heavy footfalls fade. 

That Arizona sky, burning in your eyes…
The sun lights up the music.

It’s been 7 hours and 15 days…
Since my mind has been this quiet. 

Regrets collect like old friends 
But so do joys
and I’ll shake it all off. 

I keep the pedal down to let
the last chord linger. 

I glance at the work on the sink.
Now I’m ready for – 
“Mama?!”

Alexis Ennis

the dishes can wait.
thank you for sharing your poem!

Denise Krebs

Oh, good for you, Chea! What a joy to make music, and to take the time to do it. It brings peace for you and your family, as I saw in “The heavy footfalls fade.” The four stanzas with lyrics and your completion of the thought helps to bring the peace. Such a beautiful poem.

anita ferreri

Chea, your line of the day is , “the dishes can wait,” It is the message my mother in law gave me as she leaded them all in the sink (or the oven) and insisted we sit an visit knowing we would soon be on my way. It was a message I did not grow up with, but one I embrace, like you, each and every day.

Kasey D.

This poem is stunning. I am drawn in and feel the mystery and magic that can coincide when we take time to care for ourselves even as so many people depend on us to do the chores of life. Thank you for sharing.

C.O.

so musical and beautifully connected in each line. Thanks for sharing this moment of song and peace

Heather Morris

This is an important reminder to do what our heart desires and put responsibility aside for a bit. I want to learn how to play piano because the sound brings me so much peace. For now, I just listen.

Sheila Benson

You definitely made the right choice! Piano before dishes: always!! Music is so calming, and you captured it beautifully in this poem.

Denise Krebs

Alexis, thank you for this peaceful challenge this morning. I too love crocheting, and I appreciated your too tight start and the need to frog and start again. I like the breathing and the conscience decision to try again and let your crochet project and your thoughts find peace. I have been contemplating peace this morning, and I couldn’t get past this. Vague, but it’s what I needed. Thank you.

Peace is wholeness,
being in harmony with
self, others, and creation.
Sometimes wholeness
comes through
courageous
conversations.

But I have learned
childhood lessons too well—
Be the cute-at-all-costs-
conflict-avoider, so often
I turn away from difficult,
honest encounters.
This week I tried again–
a turn toward wholeness–  
a yes to the difficult
journey through,
a turn toward peace. 

Barb Edler

Denise, I applaud you for striving to make a difference, a peaceful difference. Your childhood lessons reference in the second stanza accurately speaks the truth. We have to have fierce conversations to help create peace. Finally, I love the way you define peace. You rule, Denise!

Alexis Ennis

Be the cute-at-all-costs-
conflict-avoider, so often
I turn away from difficult,

honest encounters.

well if that doesn’t describe me perfectly! Thank you for your poem today.

Glenda Funk

Denise,
I see you as a discerning person who knows how to pick her battles despite those childhood lessons. I echo Barb’s comment. You are fierce. You are doing the hard work necessary in this moment. You didn’t miss those moments as a child. You saved them for now when they are needed so much You are one of the people I thought about as I wrote today, and I had not yet read your poem.

C.O.

Oh what a lovely reminder that often we find peace after we do the hard work to get there. Like rainbows after rain. Thanks for sharing this perspective

Leilya Pitre

Denise, I want to be like you when I grow up. You are so brave, and as long as I know you, I see examples of your action and strong voice. I, too, was raised to be “always respectful, extremely polite, all-agreeable, not disruptive, not calling out flaws, or pointing fingers.” Even after living in the US for 20 years, I still often avoid confrontations, especially when they concern me. It’s easier to stand up for someone else. You are as whole as they come, my friend!

Susan Ahlbrand

I think I may hang these words in my bathroom:

Sometimes wholeness

comes through

courageous

conversations.

Joanne Emery

Beautifully expressed, Denise. Thank you.

Stacey Joy

Hi Alexis,
Thank you for this beautiful prompt. As soon as I read your poem, I remembered a precious scene from the 4th grade novel, Esperanza Rising. I knew exactly what I would want to write.

These lines in your poem slowed me down and gave me peace:

Pull up a loop. 

Breathe.

Pull up a loop.

Breathe. 

Build the foundation.

My poem is a Golden Shovel using this sentence from Esperanza Rising: Right now you are in the bottom of the valley and your problems loom big around you.

My Offering to the Orange Occupant
 
Peace is an American birth-right 
we don’t feel it now 
because of all you 
represent, all that you are 

People live and work in 
fear that one day, the 
democratic ideal will hit rock bottom 
then what are we made of 

Peace is an American trait and the 
rights we had have sunken into your valley 
no love, no kindness, no safety and 
sadness surround us because of your 

People in place to create more problems 
but this too shall pass, and your doom will loom 
around you forever and your nasty big
ignorant self will be in a cell around 

all the idiots who followed you.

© Stacey L. Joy, 4/27/25

Barb Edler

Oh, Stacey, your title is amazing. I love how that let me know exactly what your poem might offer. Yes, to all the feelings you share. I am afraid the democratic ideal will disappear and feel strongly that “your doom will loom”. Yes, to the jail cells! Powerful golden shovel!

Alexis Ennis

I so enjoy golden shovel poems! Thank you for sharing today.

Glenda Funk

Stacey,
Preach! This poem takes me to church. Did you see that fat f*** wore a blue suit to the Pope’s funeral. What a degenerate. Your poem is 🔥, and it makes me think of Sartre’s words: “Hell is other People.” I hope I live to spit on that fool’s grave.

C.O.

Powerful. Beautiful quote from a beautiful book. And then the lines that emerge from it, just wow. I can feel the pain and longing in each line. Thanks for sharing

Kim Johnson

Stacey, the GOLDEN SHOVEL QUEEN strikes gold again! You rocked this, friend! I love how you chose a line from Esperanza, too – – it just puts the icing on the cake, so to speak. Clever and so, so creative.

Stacey Joy

I feel like I owe you the gratitude for cultivating the Golden Shovel in me. No?? I can’t remember who pushed it here first and then I fell in deep. Thanks, Kim, I always appreciate you!

Leilya Pitre

You cracked me up with the title, Stacey! I am right with you on this one. In your poem, this is what I will hold onto for the next four years (I hope it’s less, but…): “this too shall pass, and your doom will loom.” Love the line you chose and the way you crafted the poem using it. Thank you!

Denise Krebs

Stacey, your last few lines are giving me so much hope! “your nasty big ignorant self will be in a cell” Like Kim said, you are rocking the golden shovel, always making it look easy.

Ann E. Burg

Alexis, you’ve created a perfect metaphor for the untangling of anxiety. I also crochet (poorly, very poorly) and am usually stuck in the white knuckle – tear it out again phase, but you have captured what I dream my tangled mess could be, Thanks you for hosting today!

From first soft frost
to lingering chill:

gathered sticks
(brittle and broken)
lovingly latticed
with space to breathe;

yesterday’s news
(ominous and cruel)
somberly scrunched
in silent prayer;

a poke of tinder and then the logs
(carefully stacked so not to topple),
a long reach match, a flick, a fire:
warmth, hope, light

and a place to write. 

brcrandall

This is absolutely beautiful, Ann, and a poem I needed. Love the “gathered sticks / brittle and broken)”.

Denise Krebs

Ann, what a lovely fire starting morning to burn away the “ominous and cruel” news, if for a moment. I like how the news is sandwiched so well between the two building a fire stanzas. And that final line is just perfect, a great place to write. I’m sitting in front of a fire this morning, during an unusually cold late April.

Barb Edler

Ann, wow, I love the way you open and end this poem. “warmth, hope, light”…perfect!

Alexis Ennis

A place to write.
love this poem! Thank you for sharing today!

C.O.

I really like the use of parentheses here. As a whisper or unspoken or truth. Thanks for sharing.

Leilya Pitre

Ann, your poem has such a cleaning rhythm, you preparing the fire “lovingly latticing” sticks is an enchanting meditation. Gorgeous!

Susan Ahlbrand

What a picture this creates! Such slow, wonderful images!

Leilya Pitre

Alexis, thank you for hosting and such a needed prompt. I like how the metaphoric tangling and untangling of your thoughts work through crocheting and a mandala poem.
I will be back to comment on the poems – running to meet a friend for coffee 🙂

Peace Finds Me in Different Places

It’s the early garden walks,
before the heat settles in
where every new bloom is a gift
I didn’t know I needed.

It’s the long stretches of green park trails,
trees standing watch,
softening the noise of the world
so I can hear myself again.

It’s the slow laps in the pool,
where worries stay on the surface
and I become something lighter—
a fish with no deadlines.

It’s getting lost in a book,
traveling places I’ve never been,
meeting strangers who somehow
make me feel less alone.

It’s the quiet work of writing,
the small thrill of choosing a word
that means and fits just right,
like solving a tricky puzzle.

And sometimes, it’s simply coffee
and a good friend across the table,
listening and saying just enough
to make the world feel gentle again.

Last edited 16 days ago by Leilya Pitre
brcrandall

Love these lines, Leilya, “trees standing watch / softening the noise of the world.” You have me remembering those two summers at LSU where I ran trails daily in the morning (because it was impossibly hot during the day – like running through pea soup).

Last edited 16 days ago by brcrandall
Barb Edler

Leilya, your poetry is a blooming gift. I am always awed with the way your ideas flow. Loved the “fish with no deadlines” and the day-to-day things you do that help you find peace. Lovely, relatable poem!

Denise Krebs

Leilya, this is so lovely. You have gone briefly to all your peaceful places. I like the format of starting each stanza with the exact peaceful activity. “It’s…” I can relate to all you’ve chosen, except for the swimming pool. Lap swimming stresses me out instead of giving peace.

Alexis Ennis

Beautiful! Thank you for sharing today!

Glenda Funk

Leilya,
I love your title and each micro verse explicating how different things give you peace. I think about meeting you and others when I read this line:
meeting strangers who somehow
make me feel less alone.”
And of course I’m all in on the lovely treatment of writing here in your poem.

C.O.

This is a soothing read. Sometimes (most times!) it really is the small things. Thank you for sharing.

Kim Johnson

Leilya, my favorite line:

and I become something lighter—
a fish with no deadlines.

Ah, yes – – a swim to feel light and free. Because fish out of water have deadlines, and we can learn so much from a fish!

Susan Ahlbrand

The simple anaphora of “It’s the…” really works!

Ann E. Burg

Leilya, this is such a soothing poem…so lovely and calming… I especially like the second stanza where the trees stand watch softening the noise of the world/so I can hear myself again, We are all so in need of gentleness. A beautiful poem.

Stacey Joy

where every new bloom is a gift

I didn’t know I needed.

These lines capture exactly how I felt the other day when a beautiful garden of new blooms welcomed me on a walk after work. But of course, every stanza brings me total peace. I want to be weightless in a swimming pool, walking amongst tall trees, or sitting with you and a cup of coffee.

This is a gift, Leilya. Thank you.

Scott M

There’s a moment 
in Hamlet (act four 
scene seven) when
Claudius is manipulating
Laertes to be a tool of
murder against the
young prince who is
quite unexpectedly
returning back to
Denmark.

Laertes says he’ll
be “ruled by [Claudius]”
as long as he doesn’t
“O’erule [him] to a peace”
to which Claudius
remarks “To thine
own peace” and I
think about how
clever and how
terrible that 
exchange
really is:

Peace is 
changeable
and flexible and
depends on 
context
and I’m
not sure
what to
do with
that.

________________________________________________

Alexis, thank you for your mentor poem and you prompt (and for your “bookdragon” moniker)!  I love the repetition of your parenthetical – “like my thoughts” – that helps soothe and focus you throughout the poem.

Barb Edler

Scott, your poem is compelling and provocative. If I was teaching Hamlet right now, I would use this as a mentor text to discuss. I really appreciate the way you capture the Laertes exchange with Claudius and then move to the idea that “Peace is changeable”. I hope you are sharing this with your students.

Leilya Pitre

Scott, your poem hits me today more than ever; it makes me think about changeability of peace, and how “the deals” are made in the name of peace. I also don’t know what to do with a peace like that. Thank you for this provocative thought!

C.O.

really lovely connection to literary moments – and the end “not sure what to do with that” is a beautiful admission of how it takes us all some processing time to think, reflect, and understand- we don’t have to know all the answers all the time. Thanks for this piece, made me think.

Kim Johnson

Very thought provoking! Yes, I had not thought of peace as flexible, but certainly it is – – depending on the circumstances. My sister in law saw an elderly gentleman eating alone yesterday and commented how it made her so sad. I remarked that he may not feel that way at all – – that it may be the first peace he’s had in years. And now today, here is the reassurance that peace is flexible. Thanks for that!

brcrandall

The first thing I realized this morning is I need to find something like knitting to find my peace. Thanks for the morning prompt, Alexis. Yes, thoughts are ‘tangled’ like yarn. I love the breathing patterned throughout your poem. Thanks for getting us going on this Sunday.

Chilling Out

i imagine myself woven away to an artist pris m,
w anted & arrested for wild, word-play mani a:
r ules broken, patterns gone, without traditio n,
I gnorantia juris non excusast. excused/distracte d/
t antalized by the moment. a madman’s utopi a:
e ccentric & free with the pen & ready to labe l,
a nnounce/doodle/scribble/compose euphori a.

Stacey Joy

Hi Bryan,
I love the way you used “I write a mandala” to form your poem. Does this form have a name, or is it just your clever creation? You are GENIUS.

We are so much of what your poem says. I love this:

imagine myself woven away to an artist pris m,

brcrandall

Laughing. I call it “Chilling Out,” when you realize you don’t necessarily have a healthy way to find peace in your world except with playing with words. I APPRECIATE YOU.

Barb Edler

Bryan, clever word play, and your first line is the perfect opening. Great way to chill!

Glenda Funk

Bryan,
You’re bringing the word play today. I love everything about this poem: the spaces followed by a letter, the bold lettering, the dividing, the back slashes. Everything! This line especially:
free with the pen & ready to labe l,
a nnounce/doodle/scribble/compose euphori a.” WOWZA!

Leilya Pitre

Bryan, this line makes me think we should all be “anted & arrested for wild, word-play mani a.” The Latin phrase is weaved in so naturally, that I didn’t even need to stop and check the translation. Brilliance in seven lines!

C.O.

Rules broken is an especially lovely way of finding peace – in a rigid world it’s nice to follow your own form and rhythm if it feels right. Thanks for sharing this cool take.

Kim Johnson

Alexis, I can tell you are a creative energy by the photo of yourself, which I love. I was just talking yesterday about photograph techniques with my daughter, who got a new camera for Mother’s Day. So many angles to see in the world, through the lens of poetry and photos. Thanks for hosting us today and bringing us another great prompt. Your poem has me chaining alongside you, hoping in my case the thing will turn out. Trouble is, I can’t count.

Ode to Fitz

our bonus home security
you never let us down
there will be no human intrusions
or squirrel, or lizard, or 
God forbid ~ deer
thanks to you 
our home security system
you’re always on high alert
sounding the alarm
on anything that moves

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Haha! Love Fitz! I can hear him now, barking at my response to your poem. Alert! Someone has entered the chat. There are so many bonuses to dogs.

Scott M

Jennifer, not that this is a competition or anything, but I’d like you to know, it’s not even 10 AM here (and to be honest, I haven’t even scrolled all the way down this page yet – in fact, to be honest honest (?) this is the first poem and comment that I’ve read this morning) – but I’m ready to call it – your comment has won!  So so funny!

Scott M

Kim, this poem made me so happy!  Fitz is “on it!”  He knows that sometimes those squirrels, lizards, and deer will work together to infiltrate the yard.  He believes he has one job: “to [sound] the alarm / on anything that moves.”

Stacey Joy

there will be no human intrusions

or squirrel, or lizard, or 

God forbid ~ deer

Fitz is a hero! Is there really a possibility of deer entering?? I hope that was poetic exaggeration, otherwise Fitz needs to be the President. 💛

Fun ode to Fitz, Kim.

Barb Edler

Oh, Kim, Fitz is certainly a dog I could love. I enjoyed your line “God forbid ~ deer”. We had a dog called Joker on our farm, and I always knew when someone was coming up the lane. Your Fritz poem reminded me of how special he was. Thanks!

Glenda Funk

Kim,
Love this! Fitz is doing the work of a good dog. This is such a fun metaphor. Now pat Fitz’s head and give him a treat. He earned it.

Leilya Pitre

Praise Fitz, Kim; he earns it! Don’t forget to get him an extra treat. He’s better than any home security system “sounding the alarm / on anything that moves” – no WiFi or electricity is needed.

C.O.

Ha that “peace of mind” is so fun here. Thanks for sharing

Fran Haley

Dear, precious Fitz! I know you rest easier with your bonus home security system. He clearly takes his self-appointed responsibility to heart. You are His People and he will protect and defend…oh, how it pulls on the heartstrings, the fierce loyalty of a good dog!

Margaret Simon

Alexis, I am a crocheter. I love how you’ve found peace for your twisted thoughts in the unraveling of yarn. Your mandala is beautiful. I’d love to sign up for such a class. I’m currently working on a baby blanket for a new grandbaby due in July.

I took the invitation to meditate using Insight Timer sitting on my back deck. You’d think I would do this every day, but I don’t. Having some open space on a Sunday morning helps bring me peace.

Ode to Red

the corner of my heart
slowing for breaths
deep and long

the cardinal busy
on branches by and by

here is the ruby-throated hummer
humming a second longer

there the glowing sun rising
to light this day

space opens for red bat plant,
mandevilla, and buckeye

skin warms
as I wake
with power
of red.

Angie Braaten

From the title to the ending with “power / of red” your poem packs a vibrant punch!! And not any overplayed description of red but “corner of my heart” and plants I’ve never heard of. Amazing, I raise my Shiraz up to you🍷

Kim Johnson

Margaret, your Insight Timer is one you shared with me while in Mississippi and I LOVE IT! Thank you for this tip for some peace. Somehow, setting a timer to remind me to come back to the world allows me to go deeper in relaxation for a set time, and often that is just enough. I like all your flashes of red today. The ruby throated hummer steals my focus every time, its iridescent flash so quick and its flutter such a blessing. Gorgeous imagery today!

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Margaret, I love your tribute to a specific color (and wish I’d thought of it!), the touches to brighten the day, a spot of relaxation within each line. What a beautiful way to awaken.

Leilya Pitre

Margaret, the title, the first line, the ruby-red hummer, the rising sun–all of this adds to that “power of red” jumpstarting your day. Yet, the poem itself is not rushed and allows for “breaths deep and long.” Truly peaceful!

Fran Haley

Just gorgeous, Margaret – the power of red, in all its rich warm glory. In your lines, it reminds us not only to “stop” but also to savor.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Alexis, I can feel the tension unraveling throughout your poem and was breathing right alongside you at the end. I know that repetition line, “like my thoughts.” I have lived it (and the too tense tangled yarn). My students create mandalas out of words and images. Your crocheted version is beautiful. I can imagine the love and relaxation this offers. I’ve borrowed a line from Cathy Smith Bowers to repeat today.

nesting

verse lines find me
reach out to take hold
pick me, pick me
I collect them now, it seems

each strand gathered
like twigs, woven
one word after the next
a spot of safety
in the chaos of the world
every line like softly spoken plant down
love added like moss 
hugs like lichen
I collect them now, it seems

silken strands thread throughout
holding us all together as 
letters nestle themselves in
tiny mounds yet unbirthed
resting until its time
I collect them now, it seems

Angie Braaten

This is beautiful, Jennifer. I love the comparison of writing to creating a nest, especially the way you’ve embedded these lines:

love added like moss 

hugs like lichen

Fran Haley

Jennifer, naturally I love the nest imagery, connoting birds…with the poet being the bird collecting the moss and lichens and silken strands of sensory ideas that basically incubate into verse. So many precious lines. “Letters nestle themselves/in tiny mounds unbirthed/nesting until it is time”… I just want to sit a while holding these lines. They are so very true for reflecting the way poems come into being, and the fragility of it all. I fear I will overuse the word “precious” but that is what your poem is to me. I adore every bit.

Last edited 16 days ago by Fran Haley
Linda Mitchell

What a great idea in this poem…that verse finds us, takes our attention. I love that. The image of woven twigs is pretty too. The connection between our spirits, verse and nature is so strong. Love, love, love.

Kim Johnson

Jennifer, the feeling of the safety of this nest just like poetry offers – – like little eggs unyet hatched feels so cozy and protected from the harsh world. I was thinking of the Eastern Phoebe who has little ones right outside my bathroom window on the downspout as I read this poem – – and thinking of Cento and borrowed lines and how we as writers are gathering words like birds gather twigs. This is lovely, just lovely, and it shows how the mind works in the life of a writer.

Ann E. Burg

wow Jennifer ~ I love this…every line it’s own beautiful thread,..love like moss hugs like lichen…so perfect, and those nestled letters! this is just exquisite!

Leilya Pitre

Jennifer, such a beautiful ode to writing as “a spot of safety” and something that is “holding us all together.” This idea of letters nestling in tiny mounds to bring rest is so peaceful. The repeating line emphasizes you found treasure. Just an incredible poem – a line after line!

Stacey Joy

Jennifer,
Your poem scared me at first with the title because you know I don’t want to get sucked into a bird poem. 🤣

I admire the way your poem brings the beauty of writing and words through the metaphor of nesting. Just gorgeous.

C.O.

moments of peace

a couch
some coffee
a journal
some jazz

a deck
some sunshine
a breeze
some tweets

a cafe
some time
a scone
some watching 

a commute
some silence
a thought
some processing

a walk
some dogs
a mile
some release

a hug
some exhales
a nuzzle
some comfort

a journal
some lines
a poem
some peace 

Angie Braaten

this used to be one kind of peace for me:

a cafe

some time

a scone

some watching 

but I don’t do it anymore. Thank you for reminding me that I should.

your simple repetition is so good throughout.

Kim Johnson

This form today that you use! I love the feeling of movement in the repetition, the passage of time and place and emotion and of course my favorite stanza

a hug
some exhales
a nuzzle
some comfort

because…..well, dogs, you know. They almost always steal the show and have my heart. I hope you’ll sign up for a day of VerseLove 2026 and bring this form for us one day as host. It’s a lovely way to think of writing and I think it offers so much and results in a gorgeous poem. As one who lives in the country, I get to feel city in your poem today with the cafe and the commute.

C.O.

Recommending that I host is such a kind compliment, thank you for reading and resonating. The community kindness here is lovely and affirming.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

This feels like a heartbeat in tight, concise thumps, and the soothing words seem meditative. I slowed down as I read, taking in the hugs and exhales. I read this as a breath poem–ins and outs, over and over. What a beautiful thing.

Ann E. Burg

The form and content so perfectly reflect the moments you capture. Reading this was like taking sips of joy!

Scott M

C.O. this is lovely! Thank you for crafting and sharing this recipe for some “moments of peace.” (And I really like that your “journal” made a repeat appearance in your poem!)

Glenda Funk

I love the way your title alerts us to what follows. Your economy of language, your concision, is perfect. I especially like:
“a walk
some dogs
a mile
some release”
and the last verse.

Leilya Pitre

C.O., I appreciate your poem so much. It is a reminder that peace, like joy and happiness, happens in moments – small portions. Love your final stanza! Thank you.

Fran Haley

So peaceful indeed, C.O. – every single stanza soothed my soul and even brought me quiet joy 🙂

Denise Krebs

Oh, what a great form with the lines alternating between a and some. I feel like trying this sometime. You kept the best stanza for last, I think. It is delightful!

Fran Haley

Hi, Alexis “Bookdragon”! What a lovely, calming invitation today. Your ode to crochet brings to mind people I’ve known, who take their yarn to conferences to sit working with their hands, creating, as a means of focusing and absorbing what the speaker is saying. No joke: Crocheting really does untangle one’s thoughts while making something beautiful of the tangled mess. Your analogy is spot on! Your suggestion of repeating phrases led me right back to a favorite form: the pantoum. I often find it prayerlike and musical…leading me to peace, for sure…

Peace Pantoum

Peace is a feathered thing
Singing outside my window
While it is yet night
Earth’s ancient music rises

Singing outside my window
A sound that stills my soul
Earth’s ancient music rises 
When I can sleep no more

A sound that stills my soul
Before first light
When I can sleep no more
The birds begin to sing

Before first light
While it is yet night
The birds begin to sing
Peace is a feathered thing

Angie Braaten

I like the idea of birds singing “Peace is a feathered thing” at the end. Once again, you’ve created a pantoum that flows so well from beginning to end! Love the play on Emily’s “Hope”!

Linda Mitchell

Fran, that first line is so pretty…draws me right in with an echo of Dickinson. The repetition of pantoum works here…as I also wrote to moonc, that birdsong feels so personal when we are alone hearing the world wake up. I get that feeling in these lines as well.

Kim Johnson

Holy birdsong, Fran! You’ve done it again! The pantoum works so well here in this feeling of sleepless listening when we can sleep no more. I have a favorite line: Earth’s ancient music rises. I love it all, but this line reminds me that throughout history, we are hearing the same sounds through these birds that our ancestors and their ancestors heard and that our great great great grandchildren will hear if the environment is protected long enough. Wow! This blows me away and gives me a deeper appreciation for birds as a common historical thread.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Oh, Fran! This pantoum lands so beautifully in its soothing rhythm and repetition. I love these lines: “a sound that still my soul/Earth’s ancient music rises.” It pulls at the very basis of who we are and its yearning to arise. I love this time of year when the birds return. Their song is the perfect morning wake-up call. Peace, indeed!

Barb Edler

Fran, lovely pantoum. I love your opening and how this works as both an allusion and the perfect note to end. “Earth’s ancient music rises”.and “A sound that stills my soul”! Wow! Incredible language throughout to show the joy and peace birds provide.

C.O.

This is beautiful. The repeated lines used in this form are so lovely and calming to read. Love it.

Sharon Roy

Fran,

I am here for your birding pantoums! I’m so impressed by how often you turn to this complicated form ans make it flow so well.

Peace is a feathered thing

resonates deeply with me and is also what I wrote about today.

moonc

Phoebe’s Sympathy

Woven,
into the song of an eastern phoebe,
my thoughts,
Tangled,
For her song is about me.
Cumulus,
forms in pale morning,
bringing,
Faint thunder warning.
Invited by flapping wings,
I disregard,
And begging to sing.
I sing with phoebe,
Comprising,
a spiritual
Symphony.
“ Land for all
Be blessed,
Stand tall,
Then rest.
Life in a songbird’s,
Tweets,
Storms in our hearts,
Retreat.
Let the sun shine,
O’ let it shine,
Shine, O’ sun shine,
In our hearts, we sing,
We shine,
Let the sun shine,
We never part,
We find,
Peace in a songbird’s
Song.
O’ we find peace,
For days are long.
O’ sing, O’ shine,
Right our wrongs,
Unwind.
Let the sun shine!”

As, I sip the last of my coffee,
I found peace,
Blessed by
An eastern phoebe.

  • Boxer
Fran Haley

I love that you chose a specific bird, Boxer. I, too, wrote of birdsong in the morning – almost wrote my coffee in, too – so glad you did! “Blessing” is exactly the word for birds and their music – blessing being inextricably related to peace. I treasure this poem!

Linda Mitchell

How absolutely beautiful…that song feels so personally delivered in the morning. These lines capture that experience.

Margaret Simon

What a wonderful spiritual symphony with the song of the phoebe. One thing I love about waking early is hearing the songs of birds. “O sing, O shine.”

Kim Johnson

MoonDog, your poem and Fran’s and Jennifer’s today have wrapped me into thoughts of the Eastern Phoebe outside my bathroom window (’round the back of the house from where you delivered the wood that time and thought ‘dem dogs might get you) – – how beautiful and lilting the song this morning. I love how the Phoebe says her own name, like she’s running into class while the teacher’s calling roll as if to say, “Phoebe’s in the house!” so she doesn’t get marked tardy or absent. I imagine this poem being sung right in the heart of the Chapel at Callaway, right where you were married – – there is so much birdsong there, and peace in the stained glass and in forever love.

Linda Mitchell

Good Morning, Alexis and all. Oh, do I love this prompt. Anxiety amping up? yes. I love the notion of trying again…the word Frog…it’s great. It’s perfect and funny too. That ball of tangled thoughts…sometimes it feels like I’m the only one with these. I know this isn’t true so I take a walk alone to sort them. It’s wonderful. That’s where the prompt took me today. Thank you.

Walking with my friends
I greet spring
With breaths in
Breaths out
Look at the buds, so many buds
Opening to spring
Look at the leaves
All those unfurling little fingers
Baby leaves
Breathing their first air
Waving
Eating sunlight
Drinking raindrops
Growing
I greet spring
With breaths in
Breaths out
Look at me waving
Opening my fist into fluttering fingers
Hello new friends
We don’t know each other yet
There are many walks
Down the road and we have time

Angie Braaten

I love your repetition of the fingers, on the plant and your own. Beautiful poem about your peaceful friends during walks 🙂

Fran Haley

Linda, the image of “baby leaves” just pierces my heart. So tender, so precious..so needed, just like those breaths repeated throughout your poem. These baby leaves are not only “breathing their first air” and “waving” (at us?), they offer the very oxygen we need to breathe. So so so beautiful, this connection to trees as friends, the mutuality, the newness of life, the unhurried pace. I feel at peace and renewed, just having read this poem.

Margaret Simon

How our fingers tighten into fists without us being fully aware. I like the repetition in this peaceful walk, releasing into “fluttering fingers” saying hello.

Kim Johnson

Linda, this poem just radiates the newness and energy of spring and relationships. I love this especially

Look at the leaves
All those unfurling little fingers
Baby leaves 
Breathing their first air

And of course I think my favorite part is the end – – the fluttering fingers of a writer anxious to engage in poetry with a community, and a way to know others, their lives, their styles, their themes of focus. It’s all so beautifully metaphorical right here in your words.

Angie Braaten

Hi Alexis, I love “like my thoughts” in parentheses repeated, the good and bad. It works so well. Thank you for this prompt.

A Peace of Verselove

Being here is what brings me peace 
Sometimes I wonder if it’s even real
In a world filled with artificiality and fraud 
This space, otherworldly, human, sacred

Sometimes I wonder if it’s even real
What a privilege to read and be read
This space, otherworldly, human, sacred
Makes me feel like I’m worth something

What a privilege to read and be read
After five years, I keep coming back for more 
Makes me feel like I’m worth something
Reciprocity unmatched anywhere else

After five years, I keep coming back for more 
For a moment the world’s chaos is righted 
Reciprocity unmatched anywhere else
Being here is what brings me peace 

Kevin

So lovely, and what a gift to not only have a place to write, but to be able to write of that place, Angie. A little alcove in the world that seems increasingly in chaos.
Kevin

C.O.

This was sweet. I echo your feelings with how routine brings me peace, and it’s become routine to read prompts, write, comment, etc in a way that is joyful not stressful. Thanks for sharing your work, including this lovely poem.

Linda Mitchell

Amen. I love coming here, especially in April, for a bit of peace.

Fran Haley

I know what you mean about the ethereal sense of VerseLove, Angie – it IS absolutely “otherworldly, human, sacred.” This space does bring peace. It is a space outside of time, away from turmoil, a place to breathe and be and connect, and to say “I hurt” without fear of judgment. This is a healing-place. We heal one another and point each other inward to our better angels, whose wings desperately beat to be freed. See how you inspire me-! I always appreciate your uplifting, insightful comments; please know how much I am sitting here savoring this verse you have offered us today. I note how you and I are frequently on the same wavelength: I almost went with poetry-writing as my “peace” topic. I was led in a different direction..but…the chosen vehicle is a pantoum, like yours 🙂

Margaret Simon

What a wonderful ode to this amazing shared space that we return to because it feeds us “a moment’s chaos is righted.” Sacred, yes. I especially relate to “makes me feel like I’m worth something.” I’ve enjoyed writing alongside you this month. I think we must write at a similar time of day. Thanks for all the support you have given me.

Kim Johnson

Angie, I’m a Backrow Baptist running down the aisle dancing with AMEN and Hallelujah on this poem today! Like I want to stand with a robed choir and do a swing song. YES, YES, YES! This right here is the whole essence of this group – the togetherness, the feeling of truth in a world where we can’t tell if something is real or not, the feelings of worth as writers when we’re not exactly the most abundant types of people in our own communities. You have hit the nail on the head – – it’s nice to have a community of likeminded and like-passioned others who share in the love of writing poetry. Love this tribute to the community today!

Kevin

Hi Alexis (from one sixth grade teacher to another)
I’m just back from a week off from writing (from being away) so this was a lovely invitation for the morning.
Kevin

Ode To A River Current

Knitted along
the edge where
running water
caresses sand,
we stand here,
quiet, listening,
imagining ways
in which days
fold in, forever
looping, linking,
patterned inside
the sounds of
a fixed flow,
never broken
but for brief
moments of falling

Angie Braaten

Hi Kevin, good to “see” you back here! Your structure mirrors the never ending running of a river’s current. It’s beautiful. I love that you weaved in crocheting terms so well.

C.O.

Wow those last lines are beautiful. Thank you for sharing. The short lines are visually peaceful to read.

Linda Mitchell

The first line…”Knitted along” works so well with the idea of a shoreline. Beautiful.

Margaret Simon

I love the lines “imagining ways/ in which days/ fold in, forever…” Your poem flows like a river.

Kim Johnson

Kevin, I returned yesterday to a place where my mother used to fish and we would dig for old bottles on the shore where the water met the earth. Your poem takes me to this memory, and how we would cheer the unbroken bottles and cry tears for those broken ones that we wished had been whole.