Welcome. This poem-inspiration is part of VerseLove, a month-long celebration of poetry. Learn more about VerseLove and explore other inspirations here.
Our Host: Dave Wooley
Dave lives in State College, Pennsylvania, and he’s not exactly sure how he got there! But, since he’s there, he’s working with pre-service teachers at Penn State University as they prepare to be high school and middle school teachers. He does some rapping, writing, and he’s recently gotten back on skis after a 20 year (or so) hiatus so that he can chase his 11-year-old down mountains. He lives with his wife and their youngest son and looks forward to when the other siblings are able to come home from college and get the band back together!
Inspiration
As we are moving into the homestretch of our month together, our minds and our emotional selves have been taken to many places. That idea of being pulled in different directions got me thinking about how fragmentary and interrupted our lives have become as our digital lives and our interactions with new media become more inculcated in our evolving ways of being–our ways of living in the world affecting who and what we are.
In thinking about this prompt, I thought about leaning into that idea of exploring distraction or interruption as a theme and how we navigate those distractions, piecing together shorter sections of time and experience during our daily lives. Whether that is working or caretaking or answering emails or reading or chatting with friends or texting, or being distracted–all of the things we do during the course of our days become part of our lived experience. And then, of course, we have our own fragmented identities as we are doing all of these things. Imagine those fragmentary moments coming together to represent something more whole in a poem. (Mentor poems in the links)
Process
For the poem today, think about the various points of distraction that you encounter in your lives–maybe start with a list!–or the different ways that you see yourself or different ways that you present yourself to the world (teacher voice, text voice, bill collector voice…), and then place those short episodes/vignettes into a poem that uses some of the syntax and poetic devices that signify interruption. Particularly, I’m thinking of parenthesis, line breaks, ellipsis, forward slashes, em dashes, and long spaces in lines, but feel free to experiment with other ways of signalling an interruption. Have fun with this one, and, of course, feel free to take things in a different direction today if that’s where your creative spirit is leading you!
Dave’s Poem
Still Loading
Sitting in the driver’s seat,
10 minutes to the appointment,
“Siri, pull up directions to the medical center.”
Spiralling circle of doom–
MISSED CALL–Shit!
Lemme call back…
Straight to voicemail–
NOTIFICATION: US Begins Bombing…
What?!? Clicking the link–
Paywall.
…Checking X–Somebody shot at Riri???
@Grok Is this real?
Wait, what did I get on my phone to do?
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
Dave, Distractions are fuel for a curious, spontaneous life. I look forward to digging into your prompt.
But last night the site had some glitches and I didn’t get to share the poem I wrote (and kind of liked), so I’m going to post it now. Thank you.
If 29,000 constitutes a city,
I was a city
girl who married
a farm boy
because
he took me
to the field in November
and used nothing
but sheer physicality
to lift himself
in an effortless pullup
to check the combines’s
hopper level of corn.
There was no
turning back.
—
I was not a farmer
or even much of a farmwife.
I resented
town-runs
for hoses
and bearings
and two more bags of seed.
And yet
the inching years intoxicated me
with scent of soil,
sight of a gravel dust cloud
sound of his Chevy
pulling in long past dark.
His workworn hands on my hips.
hello? pantoum
he says hello? why don’t you listen to me
i am watching a child turn inside a salon mirror
i am saving the pattern pressed into salt bread
scissors fall like weather around her head
i am watching a child turn inside a salon mirror
so i don’t hear him ask which one i want
scissors fall like weather around her head
on the train a couple argues in italian
so i don’t hear him ask which one i want
hello? he says chocolate or plain
on the train a couple argues in italian
i follow sound before the body beside me
hello? he says chocolate or plain
i study the rise and break of their anger
i follow sound before the body beside me
even the weed in matera opens like a rose
i study the rise and break of their anger
so i don’t hear him offer me water
even the weed in matera opens like a rose
as he waits on the bridge calling my name
so i don’t hear him offer me water
maybe attention is only pieces of sound
as he waits on the bridge calling my name
at night i learn the rhythm of his breathing
maybe attention is only pieces of sound
until he sleeps and stops asking
at night i learn the rhythm of his breathing
in and out and still i cannot match it
until he sleeps and stops asking
hello? why don’t you listen to me
Sarah,
This is lovely. I’m contemplating the juxtaposition of a closed pattern poem articulating the open ideas of disruption. “at night i learn the rhythm of his breathing” is an extraordinary, intimate image filled with love. I’m mesmerized by “even the weed in matera opens like a rose” and wonder if this is a clue about location, but the matera is in Greece, and the couple argues in Italian. hum? Did you panic about opportunity to post your poem yesterday/today?
Sarah, the pantoum is a perfect choice of form for the “interrupted” theme! And every line of this one is haunting in its way. The imagery of scissors falling like weather around her head – I sit here awed by the sharpness of it, of what the poet is feeling. “I follow sound” – speaks to the workings of a poet’s brain and to the competition for its attention. I marvel at the opening and ending question (‘hello? why don’t you listen to me”) until the asker sleeps and the speaker actually listens…incredibly beautiful. I see myself reflected in the distracted taking-it-all-in. “Maybe attention is only pieces of sound” – yes! Bits that roll in our heads like a pinball machine, sometimes. The pull to really listen to the beloved remains strong. I love this, all of it – thank you.
Sarah, this is a gorgeous poem The pantoum form works perfectly, and the repetitions feel like echoes. Someone calls for attention while your mind keeps drifting elsewhere. This is so relatable.
The imagery is vivid, rich with noticing, as in this moment:
“I am watching a child turn inside a salon mirror
i am saving the pattern pressed into salt bread”
or here:
“on the train a couple argues in italian
i follow sound before the body beside me”
I’m really impressed how you carefully acknowledge the personal and disconnected. Along with you, I am questioning now “maybe attention is only pieces of sound.” Maybe, ha?
Sarah,
The images in your poem are stunning. And the pantoum form creates a rhythmic ebb and swell as lines return connecting the stanzas and images. And there’s so much about hearing and sound and attention. I wonder too about the child in the salon mirror–a noticing? a memory (maybe a connection to memory)? And that question of “why don’t you listen to me?” lingers, especially as we encounter the world around us, even as their is a constant, caring presence throughout all of the moments here.
Sarah, this is fantastic.So sad and plaintive. Loved this thought:
“maybe attention is only pieces of sound”
The natural imagery in here was really just lovely. You’ve inspired me to assign a pantoum to my seniors this week as we’re studying hip hop and rap. I think it might be interesting.
Staring at the blank page in front of me,
words trying to pour out of me.
Oh, I can’t forget about that internship application. I better do it now.
Ugh I never have enough time.
Scrolling through social media,
consuming the latest trends and expectations.
Tasks pile up.
Deadlines looming overhead, dark and heavy.
I should have done this sooner.
Next time, I’ll start this project sooner.
I click submit and open a new page.
The cycle continues on.
I love this pattern of never enough time to where we can find the time toward the uncovering of why somethings get our attention while others don’t. Love the italics here.
Kenna, I have lived your poem! The mundane always intrudes on the Muse…yet…here you are, producing a poem speaking truths. The frustration is real, as is the self-talk. Well-done!
Kenna, this is a “vicious” cycle, and I hear you! I think it is getting more and more intense with every passing week. “Scrolling through social media” doesn’t help, but if we don’t, it seems we are missing something. Quite a few times I. too, made a mental note to begin work on a project sooner, so it resonates. I like seeing your thoughts in italics. Thank you!
Kenna,
Staring at the blank page feels so real and daunting, especially with “deadlines looming overhead, dark and heavy.” The weight of being overwhelmed by our mounting responsibilities really comes through in this. The resolution in the last stanza is really satisfying though. The metaphor of opening a new page is full of hope!
Hey yall! Thanks for writing with me today. i am turning in for the night, but i’ll check in the morning to see if there is anyone that I missed. Today was full of rich, insightful, and unexpected poems. I really enjoyed reading your poetry today!
I love this prompt. It immediately made me think about the problem that I have with doom scrolling on my phone. Every now and then, when I am picking my wife up from class, I’ll be scrolling and then notice an elderly man waiting in his car to pick up his wife from work. Every time, he’s reading a Christian book or his Bible. It’s convicted me so man times, and I thank God for his example.
Who Is This Old Man
Waiting in my car —
Scrolling — I notice a man
Next to me, reading a book
I put my phone down,
Pray, journal,
Then I read too.
There he is again.
Here I am,
Scrolling.
I put my phone down,
Pray, journal,
Read Again.
Who is this old man?
I want to be more like him.
Thank you, LORD
For his example —
A reminder —
Distracting me
From all distractions.
Distract me more, LORD.
Gavriel,
This is a great poem about a powerful noticing! I can’t help but realize how intrinsic the idea of being a witness is to the role of being a poet. It’s a certain calling to notice what is happening around us and to interpret those moments.
Gavriel! This is beautiful! I love the last lines, “distracting me / from all distractions. / distract me more, LORD.” We are given the gift of being able to be in the now and we often take it for granted.
Gavriel, your beautiful poem carries the message that actions speak louder than words…the old man placed in your daily path as a reminder, a call, to study and pray. The sense of humble gratitude is real, as is the prayerful “Distract me more, Lord.” In its way, conversely, asking to be more aware. I love this and take it to heart.
Whooo–this is a doozy of a topic that I read through after getting home from a day filled with…wait for it…interruptions! (And mine isn’t even about all those digital distractions)
Questions bombard me
missiles propelled
From every direction
Is she dead?
Can I have a bandaid?
My dog is named (fill in the blank) too
All in the course
of reading a book to my class
Hands in my face
A tug on my hem
My name called over and over and over
I need help
Is this good enough?
What’s next?
As I launch into today’s lesson
Not to mention
vibrations, bells, unexpected
visitors
stops and starts
emotions overflowing
phones that ring and ring and ring
Send her to intervention
He’s being picked up to go to the
dentist
doctor
Disneyland
Wait!
It’s time for lunch…
Kim, this is quite the day! I dunno about distracted, this all feels very overwhelming. Lunch couldn’t come soon enough! Sometimes, I don’t know how teachers hold it together in the classroom, There’s so much–SO MUCH–that demands our attention immediately, and yet we have to respond with grace and reason and care. It’s a superpower.
Let me guess, elementary school?? Sounds just like my day EVERYDAY!! Well done because I felt anxious reading it. 🌺
Life can seem altogether overwhelming at times– some days more than others. You depicted this so perfectly. I could feel the weight of the day and how draining it can feel. What’s funny is I just noticed your last line is “It’s time for lunch.” I just assumed the end of the day at first, but that line brings it all together. I felt like that today. Being stuck inside a classroom all day with no sunlight is my worst nightmare. Earlier today I thought it was around two and looked to see that it was noon. Overall, I love this! You really did a great job!
Kim! I love the way you have brought your readers into your classroom through the interruptions that you face on the daily! Being a teacher, especially an elementary school teacher, is no joke!
I like the indenting and capital variation with longer and briefer lines varying the stream of experiences in a teacher’s half day…there’s always after lunch.
Dave, you did a marvelous job of making this feel fragmented and realistic.
In the Park
In the lobby,
the teacher wearing an “America
needs public schools” tee
performs yo-yo
tricks for kids slouching
off the elevator
(who couldn’t care less) –
while outside the park,
Jesus sign people
assure Disney patrons
that they are sinners –
(we are) –
So many mouse ears! So many mouse ears!
Such relentlessly cheerful workers:
“It’s a mindset.
You just have to assume
the best in the people you meet.”
And then the dour
Star Wars Ride worker.
(he hasn’t been fired yet
for not playing his part?)
Oof, these kids
are tightly wound.
So much talk, such tightrope-walking
tension that it’s a wonder
(they’re a wonder) that
they can even see the child
In themselves anymore.
Wendy, so much tightrope walking. There’s so much to unpack in the scenes that you’ve unfolded for us. You’ve captured the general malaise that we seem to be mucked up in–the teacher performing tricks for the apathetic kids slouching in the elevator, the protesting Jesus sign people and the relentlessly cheerful workers. But there are small points of hope too–that same teacher’s t shirt, the wonder that kids can still be kids, in their resiliency. There’s a lot to be unpacked in this one.
Your poem is like peak people watching, Wendy. I love “Jesus sign people.”
Wendy,
Love the contrast between the “relentlessly cheerful workers” and the dour Star Wars ride worker who hasn’t been fired yet. A perfect contradiction!
What are phrase “cant see the child in themselves anymore.” So insightful and true and the very work of a high school teacher to see who they were, are, and are becoming all at once. You are wonderful to hold these ways of being in your students.
I absolutely adore the ending lines “tension that it’s a wonder/(they’re wonder) that/they can even see the child/in themselves anymore.” That hit hard!
Life is constantly filled with interruptions of a variety of kinds it seems. Your prompt had me considering hunting for phrases and snatches of writing in my Sentence-A-Day journal. I have 2.5 volumes of them now, so instead of getting bogged down in 10+ years of journals, I decided to just gather words and phrases from the past year. Each word and line is taken from a different day in 2026:
Snippets of January to March, 2026
Spent and played
we even have students
joined sleep — delicious!
Made last my best
well I got to see
and finished mono-colored.
Happy anniversary!
Play today and nonsense continued,
feels right. I am potential
adventure. Free Story!
For today I hope
having decided and enjoyed trivia —
there is no school. Easy day.
I danced, my hair colored,
not a bad walk. Yes–
I’m in love! Cancelled
and busy. I had quesadillas today.
Exchanged fun — I can’t remember —
forgot to write! Make up ended: RIP.
Around once again: final day
we finished with night and outdoors.
Could have done without poetry.
I did not sleep alone, midweek expired,
renewed time today
and quesadillas!
Several plans, spending nights
retreat and returned.
I want to continue:
fire then ice cream.
I am crazy smooth.
Everyone is cool as we
drove for the first market
to feed
and enjoy life:
Spectacular Thanks!
Erica, I’m so impressed with your Korean skills! You are really inspiring me. I always think I’ll remember things, but I don’t. I have to write them down. Your lines are perfect.
Erica, I love the poem and I think i’m even more impressed with the process. Just the idea of keeping those journals is pretty wild, in a good way. And then this poem becomes a found poem, of sorts. The lines fit so well together. And they really mark this moment in time. So very cool!
Hi Dave,
I love when a prompt is relevant to the times we are living. Thank you so much! As soon as I read, “Siri, pull up directions to the medical center.” I knew where my poem would take me.
The Lost Art of Waiting
Once upon a time
I wrote a list of phone calls
To place after school
When I was cell-free
I used MapQuest to travel
Getting lost was fun
Back in the old days
I wrote letters and mailed them
At the post office
When phones were landlines
I fell asleep on my own
No Calm app needed
Now iPhone keeps me
Distracted and exhausted
Morning, noon and night
©Stacey L. Joy, 4/27/26
I wouldn’t say it was fun getting lost, but the rest of your poem was completely relatable! I miss writing letters sometimes — I had some solid penpals for a few years there.
Preach, Stacey. I hear this and try hard not to be tethered to mine, only to miss important calls and texts, which seem to be endless. How did it come to this?
Stacy, I love this. The poem isn’t nostalgic, exactly, but you do point out the things that we’ve lost in our embrace of technology. I wrote a day or two ago around the idea of getting lost, somewhat intentionally, and the fun of finding my way back. There’s something to that kind of puzzle-solving that keeps us locked in and present that I fear we are losing as we are tethered to our devices.
Stacey, this poem I could write as well. I feel for the loss of planning and writing letters sharing those thoughts ideas and feelings that emerge from the written word without an emoji, Our lives are different due to technology.
Oh, the good old days.. cell-free, getting lost, writing letters, landlines. It feels so long ago.. your poem opens up a time capsule.
Stacey – You took me back in time. It seems like only a moment ago I was MapQuesting. Tech does have all of us scrambling. These days I think I need a “Calm app.” I’m wondering if somewhere down the road they’ll discover that our tech distractions are correlated to the onslaught of weird diseases or dementia. Ha! It sure screws with my capacity to sleep peacefully… too aware of too much that is collapsing all around the world. Strange thoughts, these “interrupters. Hugs, Susie
And you probably memorized phone numbers too! What happened to that lost art? Love the nostalgic walk back in time.
Yes, Kim and I even memorized people’s license plates. Now, I have to check twice on my own car. ☹️
I feel this. I have a desire to write some letters to some loved ones after reading this. I haven’t written a letter in a long time. It’s crazy to me that we don’t use maps anymore. I am old enough that I remember my parents using them, but young enough that by the time I was old enough for my parents to explain it to me, we had a gps. Really love this one!
Orchard oriole
Interrupted my reading-
New meditation
Mo – Lovely. You are the haiku master. Send that orchard oriole my way…I haven’t seen one in years. Hugs, Susie
Mo, love this! What a lovely and unexpected new direction for your meditation.
Mo,
This is another poem that upended my expectations around the theme of interruption and distraction. And, in the best way possible. This is a lovely image.
Love this. Those birds were all out today!
Aaaah! That’s the interruption I wish for!
Wow, you make so much pop in three lines. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to meditate after the bird interruption. 😂
Thanks for the prompt! I wrote earlier this morning, but I was distracted when I tried to post the poem (I was getting ready to participate in a poetry reading with 2 other local poets!) and the poem was lost in cyberspace. It wasn’t much of a loss. Later , I thought of this long-ago classroom interruption. I’ve written the story before, but I tried turning it into a poem.
Classroom Interruption
Student teaching, back in ‘73
Little school with mostly farm kids
I’d been warned, Johnny will try anything…
You must be strict!
I was on a roll,
The lesson was going great-
Miss, he said…
Miss, I got a tick in my ear
I sighed…
Johnny, don’t interrupt
Back to the lesson
And again, Miss, Miss!!
I stand by his desk…
And continue the lesson
Miss, Miss…
(I’m beginning to doubt being strict)
In the back of my mind
I think… what if???
Miss, I really got a tick in my ear!
Worn down, I send him to the nurse…
A few minutes later he returns
And hands me a note
I removed a tick from his ear—
Let his parent know
Lesson that day— When you are in charge,
Trust yourself to decide
And… if a farm kid tells you he has a tick in his ear…
Believe him!
Diane, what a great narrative and a great lesson! I’m going to share this with my pre-service teachers! And, absolutely, when a farm kid tells you he has a tick in his ear—believe him!
Haha, oh the joys of teaching!! I bet it was so fun to be in your class!!! Thanks for sharing
Diane,
What a great lesson and poem! Always need to trust your instincts but it so overwhelming…especially as a new teacher. Wonderful narrative and pauses for added impact.
Diane — I had to chuckle… that kid was definitely telling the truth. Back in ’73, we might have been twins. I remember old teachers telling me to “be strict….blahblahblah.” I’m glad that I traded that advice for some wisdom about trusting kids and knowing kids. I’m glad you resurrected this story for the poem today. Made me smile. Thank you. Susie
Dianne. what a story! Sometimes kids are tricky, but you are right about trusting your gut. Thank you for sharing.
Diane, this was great! The punctuation really added to the impact and flow of the story.
Eeewwww, this must have been so hard for you being a student teacher. Wow, and how does a child get a tick in the ear?? Is this a farm kid thing?? I’m so curious. I did a quick Google search and it’s almost bedtime. Now, imagine my dreams. 🤣
Thanks, Dave, for your prompt and poetry. They are perfect for these crazy days. Your poem is all too relatable.
Namaste
Hey you…ready?
Morning glow of yoga practice
center your body and begin
with mindfulness
nice inhale and exhale
start with some cat cows
to open up the spine
the door cracks
just opening up here
exhale
Hey babe, What’s your day look like?
Oh sorry ..
It’s okay..
I just need 15 minutes
Let’s try that again
come back to the center
inhale and exhale
crunching knees to toes
the door cracks
just opening up here
exhale
Hey mom, what’s the address of …
Oh sorry…
It’s okay…
I just need 15 minutes
Let’s try that again
come back to the center
inhale and exhale
slowly come up
for a side body stretch
on the right side
come back to the center
come into a child’s pose
breathe in and out
Those few minutes in the morning to meditate, pray, exercise or yoga are so vital. To handle all the interruptions with kindness speaks volumes in your poem. Nice work!
Darshna, those 15 uninterrupted minutes are SO elusive. I love the irony in your poem of not being able to find the peace necessary to find your peace.
Darshna,
Thank you for bringing me to the mat. Even with the interruptions, your poem brought me peace.
I like the calmness of your refrain despite the interruptions.
I can feel the familial love and your commitment to your practice.
Darshna, this is lovely ~ you captured not only the theme of today’s poem, but the essence of the practice with your calm it’s ok and last lines which I love…come back to the center/come into a child’s pose/breathe in and out. Makes me want to try yoga — just a whisper of those lines brought me peace!
I give you SO much credit for taking that very needed time and making it yours. The way you claim that time with that “I just need fifteen minutes” line is a reminder to everyone that you value yourself as well as all their needs. Namaste
Darshna, I can relate to beginning the morning with just 15 minutes to yourself. Now when our children are grown up, and my husband is retired (and can sleep in), I have mornings to myself, and it is so good. I like how you signal next attempt after interruptions with “Let’s try it again.” In the final stanza, it seems the speaker/you finally stretch and “come into a child’s pose.” Keep breathing and writing! You do it so well.
Darshna (this is why I exercise at the gym, lol!) What a beautiful poem — the lovely structure and details really match the flow of the practice described here, and those interruptions are very real! Love the ending with the child’s pose. 🙂
Love the focus on trying to complete a yoga routine and having to return to its beginning because of the relatable interruptions. Lots of s and c sounds that add fluency and rhythm to this one. Nice emphasis with the breathing lines and the dialogue is effective! Cleverly crafted poem!
Darshna,
I wanted to scream, “Let her do her yoga!!” I love this because it shows your determination, their understanding of your practice, and YOUR PATIENCE. Keep breathing!! 😮💨
Thank you for the prompt today Dave! As someone with ADHD, this deeply resonated with me and was super fun to complete! This is one of the first poems I’m posting here; however, I didn’t give much thought to editing/ revising it. I kind of just went with the flow and watched where it took me!
A Constant State of Distraction
I am on my way to Target
Because today is the day I am convinced
A planner will finally work for me
I stroll down the aisle-
Oh my goodness while I’m here
I should get that new book that just came out
It’s been on my mind but I never got around to it
Twenty minutes go by and-
Oh! A planner! That’s right!
I choose one with sunflowers on a sage green cover
Maybe if its aesthetically pleasing
I’ll be more inclined to use it
To declutter my perpetually cluttered mind
I’ve never been great with “to-do” lists
Or planners, or those color coded pocket folders
A teacher once told me to use to stay more “organized”
Or timers to help me stay “focused”
It must’ve worked though!
Because I picked up a guitar
And taught myself how to play in just 3 months
I’m cured!
My mother always called me lazy
I began to think I actually was
Because I had dishes to do
And laundry to fold
And a paper to write
And a room to clean
But I didn’t do any of it
The flashing lights blinding behind my eyes
Telling me they all should be completed RIGHT NOW
Yet the weight of impending doom and destruction
Crushing my chest, bolting me to my bed
The volume of priorities suffocating me
And I freeze
And I lay there
And I look lazy
I always got good grades in school
My test scores were high
I was considered to be “naturally smart”
Whatever that means
Because there comes a time in school
Where learning becomes memorizing instead of understanding
Completing instead of knowing
I completed, that’s true
When I completed, my teachers never knew
That I stayed up until 1 am and completed at 3
Because my brain works best
When there is a panic in my chest
Maybe that’s why I flew so far
Under the radar
Shit now I’m rhyming
I wonder what signs I need to look for
In my students that behave like me
Should I look for the exhaustion in their eyes?
The papers stuffed in their backpacks?
The homework for their 8th period class that they’re frantically trying to complete in 5th?
I wonder what advice I could give them
Some tips or tricks that helped me
(Those same tips and tricks that I’m still learning how to implement as a grown woman)
Maybe I’ll suggest a planner…
Oh right! My planner!
Fantastic!!! So smooth. What a great poem to honor those who have the same qualities. I see myself in many of your verses. I believe those who struggle with focus are the best teachers of focus. Excellent work! I love the ending- nice touch!
Kaylee, this is so good! You wrote the poem like a great comedian ending a performance with a punchline that gets set up ant the beginning of a show and then closes the show after deep dives in other directions! There are so many gems here—the part about being naturally smart, the slip into rhyming followed by “shit now I’m rhyming—lol! And then the call to care for your/our students. So good!
Kaylee, thanks for this wonderful peek into your brain. So relatable!
I absolutely love this poem. A golden line from this piece is “Because my brain works best
When there is a panic in my chest.” I really felt this one. Though, I am trying to do better at working ahead on things! Your poem really resonated with me. Thank you!
The practice session– or why I never get past performance anxiety
Okay, recital is in less than two weeks. Time for practice performances.
I can do this. I just have to play my piece without stopping for anything.
Where’s the dog? Is he settled? Good.
Kitties, get out from under my feet! You can’t help right now!
Get those claws OUT of the harp bench. I see you with your sneaky stretchy scratch move.
Breathe. Focus. Turn to the first page . . .
Wait . . . did I get all the pages in the right order from last night’s practice?
What are my pedals set at?
I think I tuned. Did I tune? I’ll say yes.
No stopping. Here I go.
Three measures in–
Arrgh! I always mess up that run! I’ll just start over.
Okay, this time, NO STOPPING NO MATTER WHAT.
Two pages in–
So far so good. I am killing this!
Uh oh . . . where am I at on the page again?
Did my F pedal just pop out?
Must keep going . . .
Oh, here’s the part where I’m supposed to be dramatic.
Am I pausing enough?
Hey . . . did I remember to call Mom?
Rats! Lost my place on the page.
Keep going . . .
Woo, final two pages!
Horses to the barn!
Except I’m supposed to be extra dramatic at the last transition.
What’s the line between pause and audience boredom?
No, Jason, now is not the time for neck scritchies.
Go lie down again.
Whoops, played that penultimate chord in the wrong octave.
If I don’t make a face, nobody will know, right?
I sure hope I play better at the recital.
Sheila, you really capture the anxiety of practicing for a performance, especially as the days tick down. And, absolutely, “If I don’t make a face, nobody will know, right?” Right!
Thanks for the prompt, Dave ~ it’s amazing we get anything done! I think someone earlier this month explained that Connections was a daily word game as is Wordle.
Blame
I start the day with much to say,
but first I wake my mind
puzzling with Wordle
and Connections if I’ve time.
Hmmm… Wordle in four
but perplexed by Connections,
I’ll have to go back later
when I’ve time for reflection.
I open to my latest draft,
read yesterday’s corrections
pour a second cup of coffee—
and glance quickly at Connections.
Finally I settle down to start
writing a new section—
the phone pings, the doorbell rings—
and I peek at Connections.
Finnegan B. nuzzles close
looking for affection—
I scratch his head— give a treat—
and glance at Connections.
Lunchtime already?
all these deflections!
not getting much done—
it’s not my fault!
I blame Connections!
Definitely blame Connections! Some of the connections are lost to me on that game. I like to jump over to Spelling Bee and Strands while I mull over all the possibilities. I love how your poem shows the whole morning interrupted by Connections.
I am smiling, Ann. This is so funny and relatable. I wonder how many of us jump from one to the other. I enjoyed your morning and poetry.
Ann, I love all of the rhymes around Connections! This, by the way, is my daily rhythm, too—wordle and connections to jump start my brain. And, too often, that snowballs!
Ann, yes. let’s blame Connections, lol. If I am lucky, I solve Wordle and Connections while walking in the morning. I like how you bring up Connections in each stanza but never get to them because of “all these deflections.”
I thoroughly enjoyed your poem. Thank you?
It’s definitely Connections’ fault! I operate similarly. I leave it and come back multiple times hoping a fresh perspective will help. It’s been stumping me a lot lately!
The wifi sucks in this room
stupid, bunker middle room
it’s so cold in here too
my day school room is usually hot, not night school
Hey Demarius, wake up!
I’m hungry
I already ate my apple and my granola par thing
Azalea, put your phone away!
Ok guys less than 5 weeks left, let’s get those credits
you can get one more, potentially two if you really work at it
I’m so proud of my wife for acing her accounting classes
finishing weeks early for the semester and all As
I couldn’t do accounting
Maybe I’ll write a poem about accounting?
or with number somehow?
No I don’t think I want to.
ok 5 minutes until bathroom break
I hope no one brought weed to school this time
I really wish these kids would stop making stupid choices
There are way too many freshmen in here
starting off high school behind already
Good job, Samira, nice notes, keep it up!
Rajani, what are you doing?
Ok make sure you pick up your mess.
I should be grading right now
Oh well, I should be able to over the next few days
I hope my classes aren’t terrible for my sub tomorrow
What is that snack today? Tortilla chips and cheese
hmm, Federal Dietary guidelines? Not all these school lunches are very healthy are they?
I’m hungry.
What was that player for the cubs that played outfield but also pitched once in like 1989?
Man, I went to a ton of games at Comisky with my dad back then but only to Wrigley once.
My dad is running for township councilman.
Ugh I hate my dad. Not a good guy.
Keyshawn, turn that off! Get to work.
What am I typing? Oh a poem, I guess. Not really. Not a good poem anyway
Ok guys, break time. You know where to go,
Don’t go down that hallway, you know better!
I guess my room is on the second floor and with a big east facing window, that’s why it’s usually warmer
Are you doing summer school this year?
No . I’m going to Florida, It’s our 25th anniversay/honeymoon we never had!
Ok guys, back to work
Only another hour and a half to go, lets get those credits!
Hey, Demarius, back in the room. Break’s over!
If any of my #verselove fam is reading this, I should apologize profusely
what a rough mess of meandering thought. So hard to follow I presume
I better just hit that post comment button now before I even reread this and see how bad and indecipherable it actually is
why is that post comment button that shade of brown?
wait, what is the rest of the color scheme for the ethical ela website? I never much noticesd
I’m hungry
what should I make for dinner tonight?
Jeremyiah! wake up! C’mon homie. Let get back to work.
Keep at it guys. Let’s get those credits
What do I teach in day school? Freshmen English. No I probably can’t help much with Geometry, I forgot all that stuff.
remember, I’m old, I’m almost 44
Demarius, put your phone away!
yikes, sorry guys
I love how rambling this is, Luke. Thoughts shifting between hunger and scolding Demarius. True, true, true.
Man, spoken like a true teacher! So many obstacles to face in the day of a teacher!! You elaborated that smoothly in this one!!
Luke — It’s like looking in the mirror…exactly the life of April 27th of the school year. Oh lordy! Every line was one I could’ve experienced when I was teaching in high school… uff! They do NOT pay teachers enough. The meander of this is just spot-on! Susie
Don’t be hard on yourself Luke ~ you’ve reminded a retired teacher of the unmitigated busyness of minding students who’d rather be anywhere but where they are, and I didn’t have phones to deal with then…I do remember the wandering mind, the hunger and countdown to break…and your sincere efforts to keep your students awake!
Phew! Glad you got through the day, Luke. So many perfect lines. It looks like many a days in my neck of the woods too. We must have the same students, eh?
Luke, this sounds like a teacher’s life, for sure. Btw, “I should be grading now” needs to be its own genre altogether! I love where you break the 4th wall and then begin wondering about the VerseLove color scheme—lol! So much fun, and, embedded in this, so much care for your students!
Luke, no apology necessary, lol, this is real! I love the constant redirects for your students and the “lets get those credits” refrain. (And congrats to your wife for “acing her accounting classes” and for your “25th anniversary/honeymoon” trip to Florida this summer!)
One Elusive Word
my story is flowing
my friends are laughing
and and and and
[?]
what’s the word?
oh come on, it’s right here
at the edge of my tongue
[?]
help me out of here!
[?]
I’m up out of my seat
flailing my arms
gesticulating
[?]
as if I introducing
an impromptu game
of charades
my
story
putters
stutters
s
t
o
p
s
short circuiting
I’ve got nothing
[?]
drew a blank
dropped the thread
derailed the train
I’ve aged into
interrupting myself
——————
Thank you for this prompt, Dave! Something wiggy is happening for me with posting today – this is my third attempt. Hopefully, my poem doesn’t show up over and over!!
This is a perfect prompt as I live in a state of distraction. Dave, your poem was so relatable. The number of times I pick up my phone to do something, get distracted, and then have to ask myself to remember what it is I was hoping to do.
I cannot clean
anymore than I can
click through the myriad of
tab tab tab tab tab tab tab
on the computer.
A Gmail search–
What was I looking for?
Let me just answer this new one first.
Then a knock on the door
and a text
and my alarm going off
to remind me to call the doctor,
but I have to snooze it.
After all, I’m in the middle of something.
Back to that idea of cleaning,
I bounce from one side of the room to the other,
that suitcase hasn’t been unpacked.
Let me put these unused socks away
oh, look, there’s a pair of pants over here from yesterday
and now some clothes to be hung up
it’s just like
tab tab tab tab tab tab tab.
Oh, crap, #FacePalm
I never called the doctor.
My life, too! Except that I remember forgetting to call the doctor just as I’m climbing into bed. . .
I love your phrase “the idea of cleaning.” It seems I have the idea more often that the realization of it! Your poem definitely is relatable.
Oh Cheri,
WHat a poem, you have captured quite the day… too relatable. sigh.
Cheri, yes to all of this right down to the suitcase that still needs unpacking! Cleaning is a great extended metaphor for the untidiness of all the directions that we are pulled in and all of the things that clutter our moments. And “tab tab tab tab tab tab tab” is perfect too!
Cheri, oh my, I do love the face palm line at the end. I cannot clean in one spot ever. It’s like a pinball machine and the details of cleaning reminded me of myself cleaning. Love the comparison of cleaning the tabs to a place. Fun poem!
Hello! for some reason I didn’t get today’s prompt and finally figured I might be able to enter the space by using the next option on yesterday’s post…I haven’t written anything yet, but will read through today’s poems now and hopefully be able to write something later today, Hope I”m back on the list tomorrow!
It’s not you, Ann. I didn’t get the email today either!
I sit on the sand, looking to the seas,
to the glassy blues and silvers
of perfect peaks at Pintrees, Hanalei Bay.
I am watching my athletes paddling,
pushing past their worries, their limits,
and Daysha is up—my phone is buzzing,
ignore—and she is down the line,
pumping and also Zoe scratches into anot—text notification
ignore—and now where is Daysha, in the white wash,
did Zoe make it out the back? teamreach update…
ignore—Sicily is somehow up on the nose of her board,
and the sun flashes
and we are blind
and yes, a day at the beach is wonderful,
but it is not always a walk in the park.
Those darn notifications getting in the way of enjoying surfing . . . well done!
Jonathon, you really capture the “can’t live without it-ness” of our digital devices, even in places and times that call for us to throw them into the sea, lol. I feel the urgency in all of these moments and how, as a coach, you are so tied to the performance and well being of your athletes (I love my athletes as a phrase in this). And the last couplet is so good!
Jonathon — As in inland girl (Midwest), this was fascinating for me. I loved thinking of athletes out in the surf, “paddling,/pushing past their worried, their limits”… very cool. Susie
Joanthan,
Who said, Life’s a beach? It’s so hard to get the complete quiet and enjoy each present moment. It must be hard to guide your students when these disruptions happen…so many competing thoughts and responsibilites. You capture it all.
Jonathan, I really enjoy the idyllic opening of your poem and then how your poem moved into the action with the athletes paddling. The names add another depth and the play with ignore is relatable. My favorite line is “and we are blind”
which adds such a visceral moment. Your last line lands perfectly. Compelling poem!
One Elusive Word
my story is flowing
my friends are laughing
and and and and
[?]
what’s the word?
oh come on, it’s right here
at the edge of my tongue
[?]
help me out of here!
[?]
I’m up out of my seat
flailing my arms
gesticulating
[?]
as if I introducing
an impromptu game
of charades
my
story
putters
stutters
s
t
o
p
s
short circuiting
I’ve got nothing
[?]
drew a blank
dropped the thread
derailed the train
I’ve aged into
interrupting myself
———
Thank you for this fun prompt, Dave! Amusingly – I got interrupted in posting this poem and when I looked back at it, it wasn’t in the listing. Hahaha It is so hard to stay fully present these days.
Oh, Maureen, you’ve perfectly captured that frustration of not remembering a word. I have been there too often. Your poem flows beautifully and I appreciate the way you shift the poem to the point that you’re interrupting yourself. Very relatable poem!
One Elusive Word
my story is flowing
my friends are laughing
and and and and
[?]
what’s the word?
oh come on, it’s right here
at the edge of my tongue
[?]
help me out of here!
[?]
I’m up out of my seat
flailing my arms
gesticulating
[?]
as if I introducing
an impromptu game
of charades
my
story
putters
stutters
s
t
o
p
s
short circuiting
I’ve got nothing
[?]
drew a blank
dropped the thread
derailed the train
I’ve aged into
interrupting myself
_________
Thank you for this fun prompt, Dave! There were so many interruptions to consider as a theme, but this one seems to be my current fixation.
Nice prompt, Dave! I can totally relate to that train of thought getting derailed. I thought my brain is just starting the 40s cognitive decline, but maybe something else is at play. I look forward to reading everyone’s works and maybe writing one later if I am able. I’m too distracted right now 😉
Luke, I hear you!
Take care of yourself, Luke! These April days at schools are crazy busy.
Thank you for the cool prompt today. I tried to elaborate on the thought process of my wandering mind.
Construction of a Moon Mine
In the trinkles of my mind,
I touched the door three times.
The second, I was for sure,
But the door had no cure.
So, the third was a must,
In my mind, I could trust.
drip, drip, drip for my security,
in
my clenched stream of purity.
The obsessiveness of my corruption,
Is a constant interruption,
Of my daily production,
Though, I am the constructionist.
Make sure the coffee pot is unplugged,
Walk outside, go back, to clean a smudge.
Pray seven times for good luck,
Where are the keys to my truck?
Pray again, that makes eight,
Is that better or a mistake?
knock, knock, knock for my sanity,
in
my dysmorphic river of vanity.
The obsessiveness of my production,
Is a constant interruption,
Of my daily corruption,
Though I am the constructionist.
Sit in my truck, touch the bible,
Touch it again, so I won’t be liable.
But that is only two,
One more touch and I’ll be through.
All these touches are mandatory,
For I will receive a higher glory.
The definition of odd touches or taps,
Is the smothering of folding wraps.
Wraps your mind……
in a tangled twist,
Foggish thoughts of a floundering fish.
ting, ting, ting, for my wits,
calm
my stream of compulsive fits.
The obsessiveness of my interruptions,
Is a constant corruption,
Of my daily production,
Though, I am the constructionist.
Floundering fish and dried frogs,
Denim dolls on sideway logs,
Round and round a spiral of clowns,
Step three up, step three down,
And the fish can no longer be found,
Shhh! I hear him flopping on the ground.
No!! that is all in my head,
The dried frogs are not dead.
They are hopping back to the door,
If I touch it again, that would be four.
Is that good or bad?
My cycle is happy- sad.
The frogs seem to be getting mad,
staring at me from their lily pad.
ring, ring, ring, for my dreams,
into
a sacred ocean to be redeemed.
The obsessiveness of my irruptions,
Is a constant interruption,
Of my daily production,
Though I am the constructionist.
Maybe the frogs are not real,
and my mind is spinning a deal,
to visualize the surreal,
of a place where I can heal .
But with all of the interruptions,
due to the complexity of my instructions,
to satisfy all of my compulsions,
Specks of sane whirl in my lucid emulsion.
Frogs stare with frantic faces,
back and forth switching places,
Fish flopping within the graces,
my mind, my mind, constantly races.
tick, tick, tick for my reality,
blessed
in the creek of clarity.
The obsessiveness of my corruption,
Is a constant interruption,
Of my daily production,
Though, I am the constructionist.
Finally, I crank my truck,
If you read this three times it
Will bring you luck.
I laughed aloud at the repetition and wordplay of “The obsessiveness …” stanzas – oh my goodness, this is me, spiraling. I adore the idea of a “moon mind” and hope it’s not just for those with last name Moon…and I def read this three times, so bring on the luck.
Boxer, I am not sure how long it took to conjure all those incredible rhyming patterns, but I am sure it took at least more than three attempts! I find your phrase obsessiveness of my interruptions” to a wonderful label for when my someone I love asks me to return home to check her store, lock, window, dryer. The Moon Mine(d) is a marvelous place.
Clayton, the frogs and the fishes and the ticking and the counting, and all of the intricate rhyming makes for a fascinating tour of your thought process.
I love how you ground all of the movements of the poem in the refrain:
The obsessiveness of my corruption,
Is a constant interruption,
Of my daily production,
Though, I am the constructionist.
That last line is great!
Dave, your prompt and poem are such a real, 2026 snapshot of our busy lives. I really love your phrase “circle of doom” which I too know well as bits and pieces come my way without a full picture of anything emerging. My first thought today went to my own multiple, intersecting identities which bit of a stretch to your prompt. It is how I see myself these days as a part-time professor, a beginning aquacise teacher, and grandma-on-call with a focus on enjoying every minute of this chapter of life. I actually tried to add some of my other identities (literacy specialist, staff developer, phonics expert, wanna-be-published-writer…) but frankly it got a little messy!
Let’s get started, answers to your questions
Let’s warm up, reach and pull, right, left
Let’s get started, I have so much planned
Let’s hit the costume exhibit first,
You must document all sessions with your student
Kick like you mean it, wake up those muscles
Games, art, snacks, where should we start?
That would look great on me!
Audio is fine, no face front videos, will spot listen
Tuck your abs so tight so you can feel them cry
Mac and cheese is not just for lunch!
I would love PJs in that fabric!
Mini-lessons are just that, 5 minutes is a long time to focus!
Five more moguls on each side, what a great job!
I have not won a Uno in a year, it’s just luck?
Did you really see that exhibit last year?
Provide options for support and choices for response,
Head to the deep, bicycle, cross country, you choose
I think these new stencils will work with these crayons,
I’d love to really visit Egypt!
Remember the purpose of what you are doing
Remember to breathe and sing along, too.
There is no wrong with art, did you hear of Picasso?
I feel so fortunate to have this place so close!
Anita, I think you nailed it! All of the different hats that we wear pull us in so many different directions. Yet, there are clear through lines throughout your poem that create a mosaic of your persona. Who wouldn’t want to aquacise with an instructor who is a master teacher, museum-frequenter and connoisseur of mac and cheese!
omg what a ride! Love how the stanzas seem like wave after wave hitting you, and with such variety, all them question marks & exclamation points! And I laughed at the call to “sing along” … your cognitive & physical load is REAL : )
These stanzas are super with their directive imperitives followed by questions followed by positive declarations. I like the bold/notbold font and the way you indent to go on to the next thought….it’s a great way to wear all your hats. And it feels like you juggle them all quite effectively.
Anita, your poem is definitely busy with your personal balancing of all you do. I love the lines that show the aquacise and the line “Remember the purpose of what you are doing” is fabulous when the speaker has so much on your plate. I also appreciate the grandchild’s voice, at least I think it is, saying “I would love PJs in that fabric!” Very fun poem with lots of energy and full of life that makes the world rich and exciting.
I feel these incessant interruptions and I really like the way you shaped your poem…the stepped lines add to that sensation of “one thing after another.” I love these two lines especially:
Anita,
This is an “I contain multitudes” poem and a wonderful reminder that each person is complicated and unique. Go to Egypt if you have not been. It is an amazing place that will feed the artist in you. On another note, I like the change in fonts and bolding.
Anita, first of all, you tamed the formatting, which sometimes is so tricky. I like the indentations and bold-faced font to see the shifts in your identity and tasks they require. You are such a multi-tasker and multi-hatter. I like this train of thought:
“Mac and cheese is not just for lunch!
I would love PJs in that fabric!”
And, yes, go visit Egypt. I booked flight to Italy yesterday (shhh) 🙂
Anita,
I like the shape of your identities and poem. Immense respect and talent, a beautiful tapestry of you.
You really let us get a glimpse into these different roles you have, with great details. “I have not won Uno in a year”- funny. I feel so fortunate… that sums it up!
Dave, thanks so much for this fun prompt. I want to continue to play with this distracting concept. Your poem was full of relatable lines such as the paywall and grok. I really liked the insertion of a world event in this one. Thanks again for your wonderful prompt and mentor poem!
Heavy Downpour
A new weather alert has arrived …
slap, splat, slap, splat
my windshield wipers bleat
a chaotic beat
I strain to see the road ahead
Ding! a new text
Ding!
Ding!
Ding! a damn group text
I can’t answer
wonder if a baby’s arrived
or what my friends are sharing
a new tragedy
My mind wanders into a web of memories
no, don’t think about that
internal head alarms ring
concentrate!
A new weather alert has arrived …
a barrage of hail rattles off the hood
O/M/G!
NO!
A new weather alert has arrived …
Barb Edler
27 April 2026
Barb, this poem captures your very scary ride and the rising tension those repeated alarms bring to this ride. I am glad you survived to write this and hope also 1) the baby arrived safely, 2) no new tragedy ensued 3) you were safe and 4) today’s weather is less stressful!
Barb,
”A new weather alert has arrived” has both literal and metaphoric implications. Your onomatopoeic words have me reliving those Iowa “slap, splat, slap, splat” spring storms back in the days before cell phones, and the “O/M/G” slows my reading to nail the hail! Your poor car! I feel guilty for contributing to those notifications! LOL. There’s a poem on the tip of my brain w/ echoes of your poem today. I’m gonna try to find it. That said, love your poem and your concise, tight structures.
Barb, it’s kind of telling that we both wrote about driving amidst distractions. Those dings! in the second stanza are so familiar as they call us from our primary tasks. And I’m so curious about what the event was—a weather warning, maybe?
And I can’t help but reading the new weather alert as a foreboding metaphor.
Barb, I hope you are safe – – these weather alerts are all up in northern Kentucky on the southern Indiana border, too…..one of my daughters and a grandson is in them and they are expecting possible tornadoes later today. This topic, though scary, is such a great form of interruption because sometimes they make the world stand still and our plans have to wait. Take care and be safe!
Spot on! I have such a sense of interruptions here, and how hard it is to stay present when one receives a text and you want to know what it says but you cannot break away to read it:
I particularly like the passage about receiving text alerts when you are unable to check them and respond, the way your mind is interrupted and then since you can’t actually know the interruption, your mind wonders and wanders…
Barb, you have captured the intensity of the storm with thoughts, punctuation, memories, & interruptions. Wow. Very good poem. I love how you are able to get our attention in fresh ways like this thought…
I groaned when I saw it was “a damn group text,” (HA!) dare I say that’s worse than the hail!
Barb — This is a great read…it’s a do-it-twice poem because the chaos of driving, pouring rain, and thinking is very real. And HAIL! Damn! The repetition of “weather alert” is a great interrupter…one that stops me in my tracks every time. I laughed at the “group text” dings….they drive me totally nuts! Just the right poem! It. has been raining here all day…thankfully no hail … Yet. Hugs, Susie
Barb, “A new weather alert has arrived” reminded me about a recent meeting where we checked-in with an ice-breaker asking us to say how we feel in terms of weather. So I am reading weather and storms with denotation and connotation. those text messages sometimes are so annoying. I love my girlfriends, but when they start buzzing during the workday several dozen times, it’s driving me crazy. I also find this negotiation with your mind/memory very relatable. I try to push mine far away if possible. Thank you for such a great use of poetry disruptions!
Barb,
I do hope you are okay. It’s insane between all the dings, weather alerts, group chats.. all that happens in a given day, Here in your poem you’ve captured the interruptions with such poetics and shaped the downpour with a wonderful rhythm.
What a great prompt, Dave! And your poem is so inventive and definitely shows the distractions we deal with!
Circuit Complete
I start to clean the kitchen
switch
I hear my phone buzz,
leading me to check that notification.
Fifteen minutes later,
I am finished adding my word to Crossplay
switch
I spend another 45 surfing through
various apps
switch
The buzzer sounds alerting
that the dryer is finished so
I fold that load
switch
I take the pile into our bedroom
switch
and see the book I’m reading bedside
switch
The sun shines through the back door
so I take the book out to soak some rays
and gobble some plot
switch
I drift off to sleep on the lounge chair
switch
our dog licks my face, waking me up,
signaling that he he is hungry
switch
I head to the garage to fill
his bowl with food
switch
I notice the kitchen counter needs cleaning
The circuit complete two hours later.
~Susan Ahlbrand
27 April 2026
Susan — Your “circuit” is quite familiar… the “switch[ing]” devours time, that’s for sure! Phrases/words I particularly liked: “gobbled some plot” and “surfing” and “drift” and “check that notification.” And ending with the time gone, poof! I was tootling right along with you. Susie
Oh, I can so relate to your poem, Susan, especially because I always get distracted by my phone when I’m trying to do chores. The italicized switch is perfect to show the distractions. I love the scene with the dog licks and the closing detail. Fun poem!
I love your use of “switch” to show the changes and distractions. I think these are interruptions that come to those of us that are retired.
Susan, the circuit and switch metaphor is so clever in your poem. And—wow!—you packed a lot into two hours, even with scrolling. I love the line about reading outside, to “gobble some plot”, that ls such a descriptive verb choice! I’m glad you completed the circuit!
Susan, your repeated use of “switch” makes it feel as if you change directions as in the old Pac Man games! Them you add lines like “gobbled some plot” assuring me your heart is distracted by the best things in life!
hahaha I know that routine…I like your use of “switch” between these incessant actions/interruptions, it is as if you yourself are “electric,” flowing from one thing to another
Susan,
I hope you’re not calling this multi-tasking! You’re giving your synapsis a workout, for sure. I don’t know how we accomplish anything w/ so many distractions. Breaking each activity up by repeating “switch”’is super effective. Now I need a nap because I’m tired for you!
This one is a fun prompt, Dave! Interruptions are just a normal part of my life, but I haven’t figured out how to write around them all the time quite yet for my longer projects. Turning them into a poem though, that’s a new idea!
It’s not that you don’t have the time,
It’s that you don’t MAKE the time, everyone says,
But when I open the notebook, the file, locate the perfect pen
It’s can I have a snack?
Mom! I can’t sleep!
Oh no, the baby’s thrown up. Can you help?
Can I borrow a charger?
Sorry to bother you so late, but . . .
Can I go to the nurse?
I need a break!
If only there were time to be spun
Within the twenty-four hours of our day.
You are finding language within the chaos, and it is poetic, too. All those voices are what make up the choir for our Greek comedies (and tragedies). About that snack, Jordan.
Jordan, your last line is the million dollar question for all busy humans. WOULD we really get more done if we had more hours????
I said this on another poet’s work here, but the cognitive & physical load on a mom is REAL. I especially appreciate how accurately you’ve capture the readiness to do some work which is … well, most of the poem is interruptions. All of these chirrens are blessed to have you. Thank you for bringing it all to life : )
Yes, this feels so real and true. I am very taken with your penultimate line, “if only there were time to be spun” and I really want to explore the idea of spinning time from something, like spinning yarn from wool…
Jordan,
Whew, this is a lot! I’m going to second Joel and say that the work of a mom, which is so often rendered invisible, is gargantuan and it DOES make writing, especially at length, almost impossible. The phrase that you begin the poem with, “It’s not that you don’t have the time,
It’s that you don’t MAKE the time” is wildly toxic in the assumptions that it makes about one’s time and, yet, I’ve heard it myself. This poem is very real and I wish, too, that there were a way to magically spin more time into a day.
Oh Jordan,
This is so true and you’ve hit all the nodes of poetic devices. Love teh questions and metaphor of spinning time. Thank you.
Stormy night
60 Minutes
was interrupted
TV on alert
Breaking News.
Weather folks warned of flooding
Off and on throughout
Tracker, Celebrity Jeopardy
I knew I needed to wake up earlier.
Lightning and thunder as the alarm went off
Lights
Flickered.
“Oh no”
Twice I needed to
detour
Streets I had not traveled
was
slow
going.
Muddy,
water flowing.
People on the other side
were told to stop
To let us through,
Taking turns
Hang in there, Cayetena. Floods are no joke…and they happen “throughout Tracker, Celebrity Jeopardy,” reminding us of whose force matters most. Stay safe. Phew. Matter of seconds
This was scary to read and I am sure even worse to life/drive through. Your terror is clear in this swift storm.
Cayetana, your poem is a catalogue of calamities–okay, well, maybe one calamity that caused other serious issues. BUT, I can’t help but to read some hope in the last stanza of people stopped, “Taking turns”. People looking out for one another in a moment of need and vulnerability. There has to be some good in that!
Also, I love how you tell this story, the choices that you make with line breaks and formatting, and the details that you share about this stormy night.
Cayetana! I love the stanza, “I knew I needed to wake up earlier. / Lightning and thunder as the alarm went off.” I am all too familiar with the inconvenience of nature’s wake up call and you did a great job communicating the dread that comes with it.
Dave,
I ❤️🩷💜 this prompt and had so much fun getting inspired by it. Honestly, this was cathartic. Your sage directions, invitation to play w/ punctuation and symbols, and your terrific mentor poem all inspired me. Love the title and the headline-ish interruptions. But why are you on X?
poem: verb
i need to poem
but….
the ADT alarm blares—
&
no-ti-fi-ka-shuns:
alerts-
banners-
blares-
badges-
buzzes-
system updates
twist my attention to
[waves hands frantically—
all the things]
i need to poem
but….
doomscrolling
siren call:
a desperate dive into medical academia
(does X increase endometrial C?)
kaleidoscopes: colorful shards—
bluesky-
thriends-
FB strangers-
(do i know you? head scratchers)
diagnosis: social media whiplash
prognosis: AI-assisted demise
i need to poem but…
my hand aches from
hugging Apple—tech temptress
i need to….
but….
i’ll poem
when?
Glenda Funk
April 27, 2026
Glenda — This is so spot-on! I love the verb-alizing of “poem”… so fitting. I LOVED the “b” alliterations…that bang, blast, bop us as we read…perfect. And I laughed out loud at the “notifications” pronunciation…. ahahahaha. Are you back home in Ideeho? Hugs, Susie
I try hard to keep life off my phone, as my sisters use theirs to track my father, with dementia, and his every move. The bells, alerts, alarms are 24/7 and I’ve opted we’re not supposed to know that much about anyone, even ourselves. But the Apple-tech temptress is seductive with the games she plays (love that line)…and I’m so guilty with email. Ugh. Love Dave’s prompt today…the poetics of distraction!
Glenda, what a brilliant Canva and fun poem. I love the diction and how you’ve shown your internal concerns. The repetition with the b sounds is awesome! I also really appreciate the “i need to poem”. Great pace and energy!
Glenda, it is so very hard to NOT look when those notification bells go off on the phone. Sometimes, as a result, I turn off the notifications! Then, sure as cab be, one of my grown responsible adult loved ones will text with something urgent (or not really) and prepare to send out the National Guard when I don’t respond in a nanosecond. I get the, “what if this was a real emergency” and leave your phone on, except when i am with my grands. Then, the world can pass me by.
Glenda, you chose just the right rabbit hole – – it’s hard to stop the scroll and figure out the one purpose I started with when all the things come at me like asteroids in the Facebook and social media realm. Your canva, as always, is engaging and visually delightful. I like that you made poem a verb!! It’s a great word. I have to poem so early because if I wait, all the things start happening….love your topic today.
Glenda,
This is so great! I felt like I was watching a video of you reciting this the voice was so strong. You capture the things we all get hung up doing. I especially love
as I still–after all these years and all the shocking things I’ve seen–often find myself doing quite a head whip at various posts!
Wow, Glenda, you have captured this! Poetic and beautiful language and soooo many distractions. That list of notifications, with the phonetic spelling, the b words and ending with arms waving is so great.
great image to deliver this text, very relevant
Glenda, you are a master of presenting disruptions. I love the use of “poem” as a verb. It reminded me of Jennifer’s prompt last year (?). “i need to poem…” is a neat refrain reminder that signals the following interruptions. If your Canva image is a screenshot of your phone’s screen, that’s the most number of apps I saw in one place. This portion made me laugh, but it’s so true:
no-ti-fi-ka-shuns:
alerts-
banners-
blares-
badges-
buzzes-
system updates
twist my attention to
[waves hands frantically—
all the things]
I also like the FB strangers–do i know you? 🙂
Glenda, there’s a lot to love in this poem! Let me start with the phonetic spelling of “no-ti-fi-ka-shuns”–I can’t help but notice that it starts with NO and ends with SHUNS; not sure if that was the thing you were pointing out, but I definitely read that into the poem. And then the list of obnoxious Bs that blurt out and pull us away from our lives. The repetition of “i need to poem” gives this poem it’s center and a reminder of what’s important.
*so, I stay on X mostly because I want to see what it is becoming in real time, when it was once a vital source of up to the second (if not always reliable) reportage on breaking news and a space of joy and creative commentary. Now it’s a cesspool, but it is instructive about the co-opting of new media by white nationalists and toxic influencers. It’s a good place to keep tabs and take notes. PS–never used Grok, never will.
Hi Dave,
Yes on the no-shuns. Thank you for noticing that. I had three classes in my undergrad program decades ago that required me to study the IPA. A class called Structure of the English Language was among the most useful (important) classes I’ve taken. And thanks for the detailed, understandable, answer to my X question.
Pauses
Started to write today
but couldn’t connect
to my poetry site.
It was fine yesterday.
What has changed?
Why?
These technology glitches
take me down “the rabbit hole.”
falling
an hour passes
trying to connect.
Why?
My tea gets cold.
I forget my breakfast.
It was fine yesterday.
What has changed?
Why?
Cat jumps on my keyboard.
How can I think (or type?)
It was fine yesterday.
Now I have to get up and feed
my “meower”
who rubs her cold nose on my leg
until I stop what I am doing.
The day started.
It was fine yesterday.
Nothing has changed.
Thanks, Dave for starting my day today with only a few distractions that had me write this in pauses of composing.
Why, why, why???😂
Susan,
If you’re referring to this poetry site, know that I and others did not receive an email notification. I took a back door in. Love the kitty reference. Cats are wonderful interrupters. I don’t think there’s a single answer to “why?” when it comes to tech!
“my tea gets cold” might be the perfect encapsulation of all of this. Thanks!
Susan, it’s amazing how “these technology glitches” can derail our whole day. Why???
Cheers, Dave. #VerseLovers26. Your word-play is perfection this morning and I had to marinate on the prompt a bit before my fingertips started dancing across the keyboard.
@Grok, I’m not sure any of this is real anymore. At least it’s a blue-sky kind of day for 12-hour commitments in the northeast (and the dog is walked & the dentist was visited).
On Calling God this Morning
b.r.crandall
It wasn’t an emergency
so I didn’t hang up.
I just pressed 1 for English
& listened closely because
apparently the options have changed.
No, I’m not selling my house,
No, the windows are already new,
No, my trees don’t need trimming,
and No, Mr. Fraternal Order of Police,
you already make more than most of us.
I simply didn’t want to drive to Kohl’s
for their Amazon drop-off center,
because I don’t have a vehicle big enough.
It’s just a question about Mathew 19:24.
For the life of me,
I can’t figure out how to get
this camel through the eye of a needle.
Apparently, they need one for his ballroom
because we’re at a turning point in U.S. history.
Yet, here I am again,
number dialed
& you’re telling me
it’s no longer in service.
I was hoping to be placed on hold, at least,
but now I have to hang up & try again.
Bryan,
Holy nonscriptural handwriting! This is fabulous! I read it to my husband. I love this poem so much, especially those biblical allusions. I often told students I was trying to pull them through the eye of the needle. Then i had to explain the reference! And the options are always changing, aren’t they? Fun play on words: “turning point in US history,” and Erica Kirk just wants to go home. Cue: fake tears. I guess “no longer in service” means the christian right deactivated your number (and mine!).
Bryan—👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻 that camel…
This Catholic school boy felt this one in my bones : ) The drama of the phone call here is so deftly & lightly deployed, and I really appreciate how each stanza is its own full drama within the larger calling. Amen!
Bryan, first of all your title is absolutely delightful. I enjoyed the series of responses to the messages received. Then the question of Matthew 19:24 is hysterical and your vehicle not being large enough to return your Amazon orders at Kohls. I have to agree that we are at a turning point in U.S. history, but the pun is cleverly placed, and your closing is relatable and spot on!
Amazing poem, especially the opening stanzas.
Bryan,
Love the title and the prayer overlaid with an all too familiar maze of automated responses.
Good luck getting through next time!
“Apparently the options have changed.” Always, always.
so great! this is a perfect example of this promt as well with your signature snark? I love it. Thanks!
We’re at a turning point in U.S. history–I see what you’ve done there, sir. The biblical references–the camel through the eye of the needle–are very on point today. And I keep thinking of Waiting for Godot and the eyes of Doctor TJ Eckleburg as I read through this. The number being out of service is a devastating metaphor. Really amazing poem today, Bryan.
Well Bryan, I suffered a bit of anxiety reading your all-too-true poem even though I lol’s from the first to the last lines! What an excruciating reminder of how far we’ve come with AI. You’ve captured it all!
Bryan, I am so glad it was not an emergency as “the options have changed” like they do for every single message on every single machine you ever call! I am pretty sure that somewhere there is an answer to how to get the camel through the eye of a needle and it has something crazy to do with our definitions of camels and needle eyes! Yet, I applaud your for taking the high road and calling the one with all the answers even if the number was out of service. Perhaps he was behind in his Verizon payment. They mean business.
Dave, this was fun! I got a little silly. But it is Monday!
Who’s Speaking?
Distraction need not be distressing
It may be an alternate way of dressing.
At the moment, it may seem pressing,
But, what the heck! Who cares.
Sometimes it’s good to get away.
Go play. Go walk. Have fun today.
What do you mean? Abandon my work on a dare!
It’s not a dare, I swear.
Self- care helps you bear and care
For those who need you at your best.
Put on a sweater. Grab a sun hat.
No, not that one! That one. Now scat!
Distracted, you’re learning and may even start earning
What’chu mean? Me becoming a queen?
Just ‘cause I got up and went out!
Ah. That’s better. Say, how’s the weather?
Now I see what you mean!
Anna, I love your fun tone in this one and the Who’s Speaking comic is fun. Love the encouraging remarks geared towards self-care and the whole dialogue at the end is perfect. Fun poem!
Anna, this is so much fun! The rhyming in this really carries the rhythms and the whimsical tone–I really love the sound in the first stanza with the polysyllabic rhyme “alternate ways of dressing” with “need not be distressing”. And then later the “sun hat” and “scat”!
This is a fund poem, Anna! We do need to loosen up sometimes after all. There are many wise statements here too:
“Self- care helps you bear and care”
“Distracted, you’re learning and may even start earning”
Your rhyming always catches my attention. It makes reading the poems easy and more engaging. Thank you!
Thanks for the prompt for today. It fits the hectic slide into the end of the semester.
Draft / Interrupted
I sit down to write a poem—
just one clean line, something that might hold…
I need that today, that line that sings and soothes
(feedback and grades on 27 essays by noon)
something that breathes, that opens
email: the meeting has been changed to today at 4.
I was thinking about a word, the way it
(presentation slides still unfinished)
waits in the mouth and mind before it meanders
laundry hums (shift / spin / done)
a soft mechanical insistence
I had it, I know I had it
(dinner? what’s for dinner? did I thaw anything?)
there was an image—something about light—
ping
another email
just circling back…
I circle back too, but not to the line,
(manuscript feedback overdue)
just to the list—
grade / respond / revise / wash / stir / send
—like rhythm—
no, not rhythm
more like repetition without music
I try again
The poem begins with…
(students need comments / be specific / be kind)
begins with…
(you forgot to reply to that one message)
the line goes quiet
like it knows
it is not the most urgent thing
I write it anyway
half a line
then a slash /
then another /
as if I can piece together
something whole
from what keeps pulling me away
just one more task—
just one more—
just—
the poem waits
(not gone)
just
interrupted
When are grades due?
Grading, my least favorite of teaching tasks! I postpone, well, not really since reading what students wrote is much more inviting. Giving grades, however….
“more like repetition without music”. The teacher life, perfectly presented in this poem!!
Holy cow, I think you just sent me into PTSD, Melanie! The memories of trying to do something and the grading and the emails and the meetings just shoving their way into my brain sure came to the surface! I love how you use italics and bold and dashes and indentions to make lines make even more sense.
Melanie,
This really resonates! I feel like you are describing my life! in a way, I think you are describing all of our lives.
This phrase:
It’s so deeply affecting, because the line IS the most important thing, but that’s what gets drowned out by the noise of life. And the meta-commentary is sooo good!
Melanie! Where did you find that film of my life back then? Oh, it wouldn’t have been a film? Where the “play” would have been the same! It’s like reading Shakespeare after all this time! He describes today in old-fashioned terms!
Times change! Interruptions don’t!
What fun! Hope you got something done!
Yes! Melanie, this conveys today’s throughlines perfectly. Well done
Melanie, I hear you, friend! Grading, paperwork, and meetings are eating up my time, and I can’t do what I love–to find “that line that sings and soothes.”
The ending of you poem is what I tell myself every day:
“just one more task—
just one more—
just—”
I wish something would change. Your poem presents the interruptions that are real and relatable. Thank you!
Melanie, this is great! I find myself doing this, too (ad infinitum, ad nauseam) thinking, there was that one line, that one image, I had it, I know I did and then something else will get me going in another direction. You’ve captured this so artfully! Thank you!
Thank you for hosting, Dave! This is so timely and relevant. “Spiralling circle of doom” is where I often find myself nowadays. I tried not to listen to the news morning, it didn’t work; but in my poem I imagined I didn’t hear anything.
Morning Walk or Evening Meditation
(choose wisely…)
“OK, Lilyok, 15-minute walk
And get to work.
No distractions.
No phone.
No talking.”
………………………………….
Should I count?
Recite poems?
Be intentional?
Wait—one note first:
→ Polina—gift card
(she wants that fancy yoga mat)
…………………………………..
One, two, three, four, five—
What am I cooking
for book club next Saturday?
Text Wook: Honey,
Can you grill? Please, say yes 🙂
…………………………………
Four, five, six…
Robby,
you are not the dog.
I see you.
You’re still not going out.
“Meow!”
—Don’t negotiate with me (sigh)
……………………………………
Five, six, seven…
This isn’t a walk.
This is a committee meeting.
Start over.
Poem?
“Once upon a midnight—”
Nope. Too dark. Abort.
Back to counting.
Where was I?
Six…? Seven…?
……………………………………….
Ding ding
Reminder: meeting at 11:30
Oh no!
Applications.
I have not read
a single one.
OK, regroup!
Short walk.
Stop thinking!
Just walk.
(Why is this walk sweating?)
………………………………………
Buzz, buzz
“Mom, Did I wake you?”
“No, sunshine,
just walking,
trying to gather my thoughts.”
Ah.
So it runs in the family….
………………………………………
(Incoming call )
“I’ll call you back, sweetheart…”
(Will I?)
………………………………………
—later—way later—
8:47 p.m.:
“Sorry, child, 🙁
I got distracted.
Let’s talk tomorrow <3
Leilya,
Brilliant! I laughed at the cat wanting to go out and not being the dog. I love the look of your poem on the page w/ the perforations denoting distractions and interruptions. You are a busy girl. I’d tell you to leave the phone home, but you gotta count those steps, have access to the audiobooks and music, must have a safety mechanism in this world. And what did Wool say? Is he grilling? I’m invested in your life interrupted and need to know.
Leilya! Excellent! made me laugh, but this little comment was my favorite!
“(Why is this walk sweating?)”
Oh, Leilya, I love how you so aptly show the events of your morning and your use of emojis and other symbols to show love. I also really appreciated the line about starting a poem too dark. How often I’ve done the same thing or have written more than one poem and hated them all. You’ve really captured the using lines and spaces, etc. to help show the internal stream of thoughts and I thought the counting was effective. P.S. the cat part was hysterical!
Leilya, you nailed it, showing the distractions. I laughed with this attempt…
Fun poem. I hope the meeting went well.
Leilya. You captured my exercising to get away from it all!
“Five, six, seven…
This isn’t a walk.
This is a committee meeting.”
This stanza sums up life for many of us!
I ride an exercise bike with music playing through earphones, but find myself substituting the lyrics of the hymns with lines of poetry, saying what I’ve got to do in the rhythm of the song.
One, two, three, four
What am I here for?
Five six seven eight
Who do I appreciate?
Seven, eight, nine, ten
I’m supposed to be where, when?
Leilya, this is a brilliant exposes on an attempt to start the day with focus and movement. The distractions are endless and continual like flies headed for left over candy on the sidewalk of life. Good luck tomorrow
Leilya,
Did you really just 6-7 us??? This poem is very real. All of the tasks and the hours slipped between phone calls and the poem that begins early but ends late. I got a kick out of the negotiations with the cat, and the meeting about the applications was so relatable!
Dave, I still have some packing to do before we leave for the train station, and a full day until late tonight, so if I didn’t do this now, I may not. Thank you for the fascinating prompt. I feel like I should repeat all the prompts when I can take my time. I love the way you illustrated NOTIFICATION and MISSED CALL in your poem. You have captured the interruptions of holding that device!
A Poem Interrupted
I woke an hour before my alarm got me up–
Time to pee for the third time of the night.
(How have I managed to keep my teacher bladder
throughout all the days? But never at night?)
Should I rhyme this poem?
Scribble “plants” and “tea” on the crumpled receipt.
(What are poetic devices anyway?
I never seem to use them these days.)
I don’t want to forget the sprouting shoots
(I’ll have to go get them out of the other bathroom.)
Packing, packing, don’t forget my water bottle.
I guess I’ll get in the shower before this place gets busy.
To wash or not wash my hair. It’s an in-between day.
(I’ve already put my shampoo away, I guess that’s my answer.)
Now I’m out of the shower with a bar of soap in my hand. Why?
Throw my sheets and towels in the washer. Not a full load.
I’ll leave it. I have a minute to sit down.
What was I neeing to do on my computer?
Let me check my email—send address to a friend.
(Fun. I’ll get some snail mail soon.)
(I’m so behind on my Poetry Friday comments.)
(And the Progressive Poem.)
(And even Verselove comments…) Where do I start?
(How can I call this Poetry? It’s like I just hit return often
while writing prose…) But, anyway, I hear someone stirring…
“Oh, good morning, Sunshine! Are you ready for the day?”
Denise,
I feel that bladder reality. It’s like we’re catching up at night! The mind is busy in the morning, yes? Your use of parenthetical thoughts is perfect and illustrates all the directions the mind travels. When you write
“(I’m so behind on my Poetry Friday comments.)
(And the Progressive Poem.)
(And even Verselove comments…) Where do I start?”
all I can think is you do more than enough. When I was traveling I missed a few opportunities to reciprocate commenting. I tried to make up for it. You are not that person who has only commented on one poem all month. Give yourself some grace. Hugs. Also, feel free to skip me today. We’ll talk Monday anyway.
Denise, you show your current situation well with your internal alarm clock waking you to once again go to the bathroom. I get those teacher bladder woes. I really appreciate your use of parentheses in this poem, but I have to disagree, I do think you use poetic devices in your poetry. I love the closing dialogue because I can tell this has to be directed towards your grandchild. Safe travels, friend!
Our ever-working minds!! And bladders! I love the parenthetical
Denise, Love it so much! You have double internal monologue going–the main one, and the one in parenthesis. A very relevant question here: “(How have I managed to keep my teacher bladder / throughout all the days? But never at night?)” 🙂
This one is also relatable for my kind of hair: “To wash or not wash my hair. It’s an in-between day. / (I’ve already put my shampoo away, I guess that’s my answer.)”
This was so much fun! Safe travels and get some rest.
Denise, you hooked every teacher everywhere with your universal comment about teacher bladder that somehow activates at dismissal and relentlessly until that first bell. You surely have a LOT going on even before you day begins. I do hope you get some snail mail.
Denise,
There are so many great details in this–the scribbled words on the receipt, the in-between hair washing day, and, of course, the bladder ruminations. The internal monologue that accompanies all of this is just as rich and full of vulnerable moments and FUNNY! And I love how the ending is a beginning.
Denise, this poem is exactly how I am feeling these days. I’ll never catch up! We are in this together.
Dave, thank you for nudging us into the reality. Love the way you leverage font & the digital pushes & pulls of a connected life. I tried to follow your lead with this, a good-natured look at first period life : ) I figured an abecedarian was the perfect form for this too. As always, I post what I write here. Today’s offering:
First period abecedarian
“Attendance is required
but participation
can’t be : )” [A kid hands a
doctor’s note.] I think more
espresso would last me
for the morning. “Mr.
Garza, what work will we
have Tuesday? “Will that be
in class or on our own?”
[Just read Blackbaud, damn you.
Kidding, kidding.] [sigh] [A
late kid enters loudly.]
“My laptop just died.” “The
new slides should make this clear.
Open … [A kid asks to go
pee.] slides six & seven …”
[Quickly regrets it] [sigh]
[Rolling waves of laughter,
screams] “Mr. Garza, I’ll
try to do it but not
until the end of my
volleyball tournament.
Will you mark the paper
excused or unexcused?”
“You choose”. My moment of
Zen. [sigh] Log off. Touch grass.
Ah that grass! My daughter is retiring at the end of this school term. Your poem tells my why.
Touch grass! Amen. Grounding. Teaching is so consuming. Why do we have a million tabs open in our brain all the time. Because it is what is required. Teach to… teach through…. Teach again…. Teach when…
Joel, this is so magical. Abecedarians are a favorite of mine. This one with the short lines and your effortless use of the whole alphabet really confirms just how A-Z busy teachers are. Well done.
This is so great! And to make it an abcderian was such an added challenge! It comes across so naturally though. Now that I am on the other side of the chaos, I wonder how I did it. So . . . I wonder how YOU do it. It is such an important profession but you capture just a few of the many things that make it soooo exhausting!
Thank you for teaching our kids!
Joel,
well-played! Your abecedarian flows so well.
We all know teaching provides ample fodder for a poem on interruptions. Knowing that is only first period makes me tired.
Enjoy that moment of zen!
Joel, that’s a neat abecedarian here. You’ve narrated a scene that is so familiar–the students” voices are quite authentic. The moment of Zen is real. Thank you.
Joel,
Man, this is good! I never tried an abecedarian, but you weave this narrative seamlessly! I laughed at sides 6 and 7 and the immediate regret. And related to the call for extra espresso to last the morning. “Log off. Touch grass.” is the perfect ending.
Poetry writing
I’m sad now
Thinking of how the days of poems
Are coming to a close.
Do I have to stop writing poems daily?
I guess not.
But the thrill of checking for a response
Or two
Will be gone.
What’s that? You’re hungry?
But of course you are.
How much time before kids come back?
Can I write and eat. Both?
Oh gosh….
I dunno.
10 more minutes Care
You can do this.
But I need to review plans.
Oh yeah
Where are those plans?
Wait.
You’re not done.
Are you done? With the writing?
The poems? The distractions?
Writings not the distraction….
Lesson plans.
That’s the distraction.
Really?
I need another coffee.
Maybe I should check the lounge.
I still have 7 minutes.
-Carrie Horn
4/27/26
Yes, I too will miss others’ happy notes. I think that plan time flies by like no other!
It’s kind of addictive.
Carrie — the frenetic pace of a teacher-life…you’ve got that right here. Counting down to the “7 minutes.” Oh boy, do I remember that…don’t miss it one bit. I love that the constant is our ethicalela experience…checking back for responses. Amazing how that keeps us ticking. Lesson plans…while I planned and planned…it was the most ludicrous waste of time to prepare plans that some administrator was hired to check off on a list…what a mess. The scripting of the modern classroom is as deadly as a pipe bomb in a hall locker. Heaven help us to regain the creativity, the time to write and share and actually THINK with students. Hang in there. Susie
I’m actually “just” a sub. But I just started a 3 week stint today. Paternity leave.
Carrie, “Lesson plans./That’s the distraction” oh yes indeed. I love how you pull the reader right into the classroom situation trying to gauge how much time one has between lunch and the students’ return. I also appreciated the internal encouragement “You can do this”. Very relatable poem! Don’t forget open writes each month follow VerseLove.
Goodness, Carrie, you sure capture how I feel about the month of April. I will gladly put all other responsibilities aside in order to a) write my poem, b) respond about other poems, c) read other people’s comments and get insights into the poems that I failed to see, and d) look over and over and over to see if my poem has any feedback. I always feel so selfish looking for those, but I value those comments so much.
This internal monologue is just great. And our planning periods sure do go fast, don’t they?
Carrie,
I, too, am going to miss our daily writing and commenting. I’ll keep writing and I hope you will too, but my writing is richer when we right together.
I’m wondering how much you packed into those last seven minutes.
These lines made me smile:
Relatable!
Carrie, I hear you. we are getting spoiled with a kind ad supportive feedback here, so I find this relatable: “But the thrill of checking for a response / Or two / Will be gone.”
Love your definition of distration:
“Writings not the distraction….
Lesson plans.
That’s the distraction.”
We are going to miss this exchange, but will meet in may, June, and etc. Keep writing. I enjoy reading your poems, even when I don’t have energy to respond to everyone. Thank you!
Carrie, I really look forward to April, too, as we share these poems and miss it when it’s over. Your poem perfectly illustrates that feeling of writing against the clock, when you have a class to get to and a million things happening and you want to get that line just right! And, like you point out, it’s so nice to have those kind bits of feedback on your poems to lookk forward to!
Thanks for hosting, Dave. Your poem is all too relatable.
——————————————————
Time
I wake in sadness
try to push it away
delay it
knowing today will be hard
I check my poetry sites
break my rule about reading the news first thing in the morning
I don’t get on my travel yoga mat
I don’t step into my aunt and uncle’s backyard to listen to the birds
I remind myself to eat breakfast
cry while waiting for my English muffin to toast
I put on my black dress
tug on tights because it’s still cold here in late spring
stuff some tissues into my black purse
it’s time
This poem portrays the heaviness of the day. It’s hard when we have to remind ourselves to eat. I hope you still find time to listen to the birds. It’s therapy.
Sharon — My heart goes out to you. You are not walking through this day alone…I am so glad you posted this morning as you face a difficult day. That “English muffin,” the routine of it, just pounds the gravity of the “black dress.” Hugs and love, Susie
oh, my heart. The poem gives the weight of the day, the heaviness of the feelings, the choices we make when we are heavy with grief and sadness. The repetition of “I don’t” really hits the loss home. I am so sorry for the loss you are feeling and that is represented here.
A very hard day! Blessings.
Oh, Sharon, without telling us, you’ve shown us. My condolences. I like how you say the things you don’t do because of this solemn, sad day. Beautiful and sad poem.
Oh, Sharon, I am so sorry! Your “it’s time” in the end falls on so heavily. Please, take care of yourself. Sending hugs and kind thoughts for the evening.
Sharon, thanks for finding time to be with us today and for sharing this. My condolences to you. The weight of grief and the inescapability of it, how it clouds our lives is hard. I hope that you find some solace. Maybe even some solace in sharing this.
This experience is so sadly universal. “I put on my black dress” because we all have the little black dress. I am sending you a hug across these poetry lifelines as we both find ourselves holding onto for support and some sort of hope.
On November 22, 1987 a man
wearing a Max Headroom mask
hijacked the signal of Chicago’s
WGN-TV channel during an episode
of Doctor Who. He ranted and raved
a “frantic” and “nonsensical” monologue
that lasted 90-seconds.
“To this day, the FCC has never solved
the case. No one knows who did it,
or how they pulled it off.”
Resistance is possible. Let’s just not
let fake Max Headroom lead it.
_______________________________________________
Dave, thank you for your prompt and your mentor poem today! We have to navigate so many distractions every moment; everything is vying for our attention all the time, and your poem illustrated that so well. And I love the “US Begins Bombing… / What?!? Clicking the link– / Paywall” !! Isn’t that always the case? INFO YOU NEED NOW tucked behind a paywall! It’s akin to the news casters’ “Stop doing this one thing right away before it kills you; News at eleven”! For my offering, I veered off a bit. I started researching “interruptions,” the word’s origins and “famous” interruptions in history, which lead me to “breaking news” and Orson Welles’s The War of the Worlds and finally to this guy, this guy in a Max Headroom mask who was swinging around a flyswatter and shouting insults at some anchor man. Yeah, we don’t want him to be the face of the revolution, but what he did was kinda amazing. Just think of how many Oval Office Press Conferences that could be avoided! (My quotes were pulled from the Google search “max headroom incident” and the AI Overview and “People also ask” pulldowns.)
Scott — How fascinating! Somehow this one total eclipsed me…well, I eclipsed it, I reckon. Missed it. So glad you wrote this today. What a pivotal mark it actually was. And I totally agree, “Let’s just not/let fake Max Headroom lead it.” I was amused at the whole Dr. Who episode. Keep ’em comin’, my friend. Always a great ride. Susie
Wow! I did not know this happened at all so now this will be something that I look up and find out more about (students are fascinated with this kind of stuff so I will add it to what they research and write about). I love how you ended the poem. Such a great reading experience in this poem!
Scott, I have never heard of this event and now I am fascinated. I love the message about resistance and how clearly, you’ve captured this historical moment. Short and powerful. Especially liked the Doctor Who reference which helps sets the history as well.
Scott, I am not alone in not knowing this. Thank you for educating us. I came to the country in 2004, so many people forgot the incident by then, probably. It’s amazing what small acts can do. I always say, a little disruption/change goes a long way, and if it cases a ripple effect, then the change can be huge.
Scott–so I googled the incident and was immediately taken by the uncanny resemblance to Pete Hegseth. This is fascinating–I think I vaguely remember this. Your take on the prompt is really unique, I wouldn’t have thought of interruptions in that way, but I love that take (it’s making me think of Kanye at the Grammys during her acceptance speech).
I’m all in on acts of civil resistance too. But I concur, best if it’s not Max Headroom.
THE TROUBLE WITH…
Gotta stop pounding through Duolingo lessons;
Rayo is hungry.
Where is she?
I’ll fetch su comida de perro.
Oh, let me add some diced zanahorias hoy.
Look at that, español rolling off my tongue.
What’s the word for “tongue”?
Let me check.
Oh look, here’s yesterday’s poem,
Gotta check if I got responses.
Hm, what’s today’s prompt?
Oh yeah, “Interruptions.”
I’ve got fodder for that one.
Oops, my coffee is beeping in the kitchen.
“Alexa, turn on blue couch light.”
Didn’t I bring my laptop with me?
Where’d I put that?
Uff, geez, it’s right here;
It didn’t charge last night?
What!? Now what?
The blasted thing is practically new!
Manufactured obsolescence.
Grrr.
I’m the living example of obsolescence —
Knees shot, fingers crooked,
senior moments last way more than a moment,
engineered to crap-out
when I’m not ready.
Dang, I need to finish that “health care directive.”
Health care, wealth snare.
Insurance bastards.
Don’t start your day ranting, Sooze.
It’ll foul up your engineering.
What was that prompt?
Oh yeah, Interruptions.
Rats, the coffee is already cold.
Arg, it’s raining!
Geez, Rayo is still outside.
Focus, Susan Frances, focus!
Uh-oh,
I’m in trouble.
by Susie Frances Morice© April 27, 2026
Very funny!
Your brain sounds a lot like mine! This was oh-so-relatable for me!
“Health care, wealth snare. / Insurance bastards.” LOL, yep. And, yeesh, don’t get me started on being a “living example of obsolescence”! I feel seen in your poem, Susie!
Oh, wow. I cannot put in words how much I resonated with this poem. So relatable!
I like that you called yourself with your middle name (I think). That’s exasperation to a “T” for all these interruptions.
Susie,
Im feeling the planned obsolescence in my body these days. “I’m the living example of obsolescence —“ And don’t get me started on the tech. Grrrrr! Love the code switching at the beginning and feel as though it was interrupted by all the interruptions. Your craft is always masterful, and I love the nuances. Hang in there!
Oh my, Susie, what a fun poem. I so love all the details you’ve shared through this poem. I can relate to the searching for something and the coffee getting cold. The internal conversation with yourself is relatable, but I love the humor at the end “I’m in trouble.” Oh yes, I completely understand. Thanks for sharing such a delightful reflection of you, Susie! Hugs!
Susie, this is just the right stop-and-go thinking that recycles, circles back like you’re on a bike and ride to the middle and backward so you end up in the starting point. Which is exactly what I feel like most days – – we’re just going in circles. I cracked up here:
senior moments last way more than a moment,
engineered to crap-out
when I’m not ready.
I understand that!! And I still want watercolor lessons too.
Susie, I love the threads of connection that hold everything together here!
You had some great fodder for this one! The turn from manufactured obsolescence to living example of obsolescence to health care is stellar.
Susie, such a delightful interruptions session through and through! Love each stanza. This one reminded me my sister-in-law:
“Don’t start your day ranting, Sooze.
It’ll foul up your engineering.”
She used to say, “Normal people start the day thanking for blessings. Of course, they succeed, and I begin with f*** it. Who does that?” Lol
“Focus, Susan Frances, focus!” 😄
Dave–Your prompt and your poem are golden! I, too, observe secondary practicum students– for McDaniel College. I also visit K-12 specials–Art and Physical Education. This is a loose version of the class I observed yesterday. I love observing these classes and am full of respect for the way Art teachers create some form of order with the youngest. I couldn’t do it!
Kindergarten Art Class Observation
I’m all ready now,
Chromebook set to record this lesson.
It’s my job to help this intern im-
(what is that noise?
Oh it’s the music room next door.
Screechy teacher…)
OK improve. That’s what I’m here for.
Here come the kiddos–what?
22 of them?
How the heck…?
Minute 1:
“Criss-cross applesauce!”
Carpet time:
Two wiggle. One prone. Five focused.
One poke; pok-ee tattles
Minute 5:
“Today we’re going to…”
“What are we doing today?”
“I like pink”
“I have a cat like the picture”
(I know the song they’re singing
from when I was a…)
Minute 10:
“Go to your tables…”
“Fold like a hotdog”
“No, that’s a hamburger”
“Don’t tip your stool, friend.”
“That is really good!”
”I’m drawing worms on my tree!”
“Me, too–I like worms”
“Look at my worms!”
(New song next door…
a louder one…)
Three students sing the song.
Minute 15:
Art joy-noise ascends….
“Look at this!”
“Mommy won’t let me use paint”
“Is this right?”
“I need help”
“I have three dogs–see?
“I love cats.”
“This is my house”
Minute 30:
One student moved to “his own table”
three stumble-and-falls, comforted by teacher.
Two girls and one boy unveil completed work.
One spilled paint jar.
Four bathroom trips
(..and a partridge in a pear tree?)
(Thank heavens, music class is finally quiet.)
Conclusion:
Elementary art: beautiful chaos.
GJSands
4-27-26
Gayle, you picked the perfect setting for the interruptions – – actually, the engagement focus – – always a shift, always thinking happening, always sharing, always quicker than the adults can think. I agree – – that is beautiful chaos, and the beekeeper knows the buzz of her bees. What a lovely way to stay connected to classrooms by helping teachers grow.
I have always been in awe how anyone can have the patience to be a kindergarten teacher and this poem solidifies the awe! Fantastic!
Gayle, minute 5 had me howling, lol (I like pink!). This is a pretty amazingly accurate, minute by minute account of, well, almost any classroom, but especially kindergarten art class. Bless this teacher! And thank you for pulling us into this beautifully chaotic scene. Look at my worms! while the music comes through the walls.
Gayle, you summed it up perfectly; it is beautiful chaos. Love kids’ authentic voices. And this exchange reminds my my grandchildren when they were younger:
“I’m drawing worms on my tree!”
“Me, too–I like worms”
“Look at my worms!”
Oh yes, and “(Thank heavens, music class is finally quiet.) 😄
Dave, What a great prompt for our distracted times! I love the way your poem sounds like my brain when I’m in my car trying to drive, listen to directions, and then, Wait? What?
I am distracted by grandchildren this morning, so I am posting a poem I wrote in my notes app yesterday.
There is a separation
A wall
Call it a boundary
A space between my experience and yours
How can I expect it to be different?
For you to listen when I’m not speaking
For you to understand when I’m not communicating
I close my door and expect you to knock it down
Even as I weep alone
Into the towel
Grief is a lonely road
We each travel in our own way
Like the blue heron painted along the shore stands at dawn
Expecting nothing
Being— being— being
Margaret, there’s no better distraction than grandchildren. I hope you are enjoying the morning together!
Your poem describes the loneliness of grieving so poignantly–a wall that can never truly be breached, no matter how much you might want and need for someone to understand what you are going through. The image of weeping into the towel is so visceral and real. And the last line, what we are left to do and how we move forward.
The weight of grief weaves through the lines of the poem. Being-being-being–such a rich line to end the poem. The repetition hit for me.
I spent yesterday with a grieving friend. That lonely road we all travel at some point. I am so sorry, Margaret. Hug those kids!
Margaret, those spaces of generation and time, and the grief that separates us from the older and the younger in so many ways, are those lonely spaces. You captured a feeling that’s very hard to describe but those who’ve been there understand and know in real ways. Wish I were there, I’d give you a hug and fix us a cup of hot tea and just sit and listen to the sounds of the bayou. As I sat in the veterinarian’s office today to await the word on my beloved Schnauzer Fitz and whether he is a candidate for surgery, I was praying for an answer. When I saw the redbird land on a branch and look directly at me, I knew that the vet would come to deliver the news that it’s time, that he is not a candidate for surgery. That bird was a sign from my mother that if she can get to Rainbow Bridge, she will meet him there when he arrives. And OF COURSE she will. Grief has a dark side and a light side, and my light side today was the redbird…..the other side coming to reassure me that she is still with me.
Thanks for this prompt, Dave! I certainly related to your poem, today. Not only do I often forget why I reached for my phone in the first place, I sometimes can’t find where I put my phone when I finally remember why I initially reached for it. Such are the times! Your prompt reminded me of a carefully-planned themed birthday party that was interrupted by a surprise guest.
Theme Interrupted
His fourth birthday, 2003,
Spy Kids cake, Spy Kids plates,
orange punch,
color-coordinated balloons,
Thumb Thumb action figures.
His grandpa says, “What in the world?”
eyeing the toys: thumb people in red jumpsuits.
Black cardstock shoe prints,
taped to our hardwood floors,
a trail to follow, mystery to solve,
scavenger hunt for pre-school spies,
a treasure chest filled with treat bags.
Guest of honor, freckle-faced,
dressed in black and orange,
just like the main character
he pretends to be.
Costumes are his favorite.
Aunt Sissy, my crafty sister, is late,
present in hand,
little spies running everywhere.
He opens her gift
before we cut the cake,
disappears to his room,
returns,
dressed in tiny ripped jeans shorts,
green t-shirt with airbrushed abs,
cotton batting muscles.
“I’m the Hulk!” he says.
He loves it.
“But this is a Spy Kids party,”
I remind him, “Your favorite.”
All the other spies have stopped
their secret mission
to stare at the Incredible Hulk,
flexing his homemade muscles,
roaring from the top of the stairs.
Hulk is his new favorite.
I sigh, “Hulk meets Spy Kids,”
I mumble, giving in.
The party amps up a notch
as Hulk chases his guests
around our living room.
My granddaughter recently had a birthday party in which all the girls went through and put on all the costumes she has. They love wearing costumes! And changing every 5 minutes. I could visualize this part interruption.
Lori — This made me laugh out loud. Kids and b’day parties…by sheer definition… AMOK! LOL! I loved it. The Hulk look was priceless… funny little monkey. How totally crazy fun. Susie
Lori, I very much empathize with the time and effort (and money) that birthday party planning consumed, to then have it derailed by a competing theme. At the time, this probably wasn’t as much fun as it is now to read–“All the other spies have stopped their secret mission to stare at the Incredible Hulk”, oh NO! But this is a great story that you unfold, and, the ending is happy, if unplanned, too!
All I can say is “What fun!” I miss those days of interruption and exhaustion with a smile.
Lori, when the Spy Kids are interrupted by The Hulk, it’s gonna be a great party. That costume with the airbrushed abs and cotton batting muscles are just enough imagery to “see” your son taking this party up to the highest notch. It reminds me of a DJ with the backwards slide of the record, whatever they call that, shaking it up and putting it on a whole new level. Great way to have an interruption of the best kind.
Haha! I love the overall interruptions that kids provide, at a birthday party, at a school event, at life. And the addition of the Hulk in the midst of all the organized chaos is just the best. Your sigh says it all.
Dave, what a prompt
~an apt and timely prompt~
with all the distractions in our world today
it’s a blustery morning
windier than I’d thought
but no weather warnings and
I know because I checked
to see what shoes to wear
because if it’s cold my feet have
to be covered
and there are certain things I
can only wear with covered toes
and I’m worried, so worried
about that car under the last tree
we have because they cut all the rest down
for telephone poles
telephone poles!!! who even uses
telephone poles anymore??
well, it shocked me, I’ll tell you
but apparently our loblollies made the cut
for straight trees when they did
the tree assessment like some sort of
sorting hat for which fate the pines follow
speaking of Harry Potter, I need
to throw out the Butterbeer coffee creamer
I think it went bad
but none of my son’s friends got sick
on the way to Talladega
so maybe it’s good, I don’t know
but I do need to grocery shop
and did you see that kid???
when he won?
Carson Hocevar all the way
and I think it was okay with my son
that Number 9 came in only fourth if
a 23-year old won his first race
….AT TALLADEGA….
because as Ricky Bobby says
if you ain’t first, you’re last
and so Carson turned it up
on that last lap and Chase Elliott
can be first another time
…oops, time…..gotta go to work
thanks for hosting today, Dave!
Kim…you understand MY BRAIN!
From telephone poles to the sorting hat to Butterbeer coffee creamer to Ricky Bobby…you’ve left a fun-filled breadcrumb trail of thoughts that I’m happy to follow! Your poem energized my morning and left me thinking about everything you mentioned.
Kim, your poem flows from one thought to another, like my brain when I have too much on my mind, which is true of most days.
Kim — Such a fun time following you around the bend of your early morning mess. Sounds super familiar. I laughed out loud about the creamer and the subsequent ‘oh well’ response…no one got sick. LOL! I was right there with you this morning… have you got the right shoes on? LOL! Hugs, Susie
If you ain’t first, you’re last! I enjoyed this poem more than a tasty crepe, which is really just a flat pancake that the Frenchies like! It’s HARD to tap into stream-of-consciousness and still create something so focused (on being unfocused) and utterly entertaining! Thank you for this wild ride through your thoughts this morning!
Kim,
This poem illustrates why we’re friends. Our minds work in a constant arena of shifting sand from one topic to the next. I think we have evidence for that. I laughed at the shift from trees to “speaking of Harry Potter” and now find myself strangely interested in Talladega which is a big surprise. Have you seen the movie F1? It’s good.
Kim, I have missed reading you for a few busy days, but I am sure glad I could stop in today to read someone who REALLY understood this assignment! Yes, I do know just how this feels and often find this kind of thought scary and yet also a satisfying reward for a full life, or at least I tell myself that!
Kim, I am completely pulled into your internal dialogue and understand the need to know how to dress for work. I like that you orbited back at the end to having leave and including the note to Dave on both ends. The butterbeer creamer and the Talladega part was fascinating and I’m so sorry about the loblollies who agreed to have all the trees decimated for telephone poles. Excellent poem!
Oh Kim,
You took me on a ride with your poem. It feels like a race car with so much action, acceleration, play,and wonder. I have to say you do an incredible job with your poems and comments.
I am late with my responses, Kim, but had to come here to say I know this stream of consciousness all too well, the ebb and flow of anxieties (weather, what to wear in case, butterbeer (!) gone bad) the fate of trees)mongled with marvels, like somebody’s amazing accomplishment…is it any wonder we are so very tired at the end of the day?? And that we we wake up so early the next morning as the brain quicks immediately into high gear again? Thank the Lord for poetry as a means of putting on the skids and granting calm – let’s all it poetic pockets – in our day, for coping. This poem is gem of truth and I am thankful for it – for it tells me I am not alone.
Dave, this prompt gave me so many ideas that my brain (squirrel!) kept interrupting the current plan. Absolutely love your title and how the entire poem exemplifies all that occurs in 10 minutes of present life. I’m adding both a link and a screencapture (so it looks like I actually did the writing) of my poem because formatting….ugh.
Jennifer, I’m so impressed by your format! I really enjoyed all the foot-noted interruptions and found myself marveling at your creativity.
What a clever use of footnotes/ definitions as distraction!
Jennifer — Way fun. The immediate jump to “google doc” was so familiar to me… I fall down that rabbit hole constantly. It was just great to tag along. Love that mind! Susie
Your footnotes worked very well as distractions!
Jennifer, I love this so much!! It’s very House of Leaves with the footnotes and distractions, actively fighting the reader as he or she tries to make out the text: and I love it! Oh, and the footnote for “poem” – “I’m a poem. Who are You?” Lol, brilliant!
Jennifer, the footnotes are amazing! I always enjoy reading well-crafted footnotes in a piece (I feel like I’m being nosy and getting in on a secret!). And then your meta-commentary in the parenthesis is hilarious!
Delicious. I really enjoyed this, Jennifer. On so many levels. Wonderful play today.
Dave, what a great invitation, and what a fantastic, all-too-true poem you give us about this era of endless distractions and complete fracturedness! It’s comforting to know I’m not the only one whose brain works like this. We’re on constant overload. Too much to process, every single minute, every single day. It’s miraculous that we can sustain concentration long enough to craft poems at all…wait…I think I have something there… thank you for today’s inspiration!
Kicking My Ars Poetica
Tryna write the poem
while the idea
is new and fragile—
what are you doing over there, Dog?
You better not be chewing
on Grandma’s piano
that’s old wood
not to mention stain
probably deadly
and not to mention
it’s GRANDMA’S piano
Tryna write the poem
with splintered images
floating in my brain—
oh I forgot
to add eggs and Fresca
to my groc list
lemme do that
before I forget again
Tryna write the poem
before the fog settles in
obscuring that thing I almost saw—
hey, Honey
sorry, I didn’t hear you
I was tryna write…
Good morning!
Um, dinner tonight?
I don’t know…
how about waffles?
(Do we HAVE to talk about this now?
It’s five-thirty in the morning…)
Tryna write the poem
before its fresh music
ceases beating—
if I don’t hurry up
I’ll be late for work
—doggonit, Dog!
This is the third or
fifteenth time you
have been whining
at the door to go out
you CAN’T be that full of it!
I swear, housebreaking you
was easier
than tryna write this poem…
[sigh.]
(on the back deck,
in the stillness just before dawn
while all the world sleeps
except for me
the stars
this dog
this husband
and the whippoorwill
and the neighbor’s rooster
and the unseen white-tailed deer
crunching around
in the woods
and, I’m convinced,
coyotes in the distance
a wild-silver-shivering sound)
(back in my chair at the table
looking at the screen)
What was I doing?
Oh yeah.
Tryna write the poem.
Fran, this is brilliant! I love the fresh takes on the attempt after every interruption and the dog who’s that full of it who kept interrupting (cuz they need attention – as I was writing this morning, Willow fell off the bed) and the moment of stillness when you become part of the moment on the back deck hearing the coyote and how the poem becomes poetical with alliteration in that place. Phew! (I just had to wordvomit this out to avoid interruptions.)
Fran, a fellow Fresca drinker! I learn new things about you all the time. Fresca sounds like Franna. Franna’s Fresca. Love what you did here with the puppy time interruptions and life going forward on so many strands and threads while you’re tryna write the poem – – and the metaphor of the coyotes in the distance (there will always be more distractions, even the ones we can’t see)…..wow! Glad the song of the whippoorwill is there to steady the whole place. There is one here, too, in the front woodpile, and he only sings really early like 2 a.m. So even in the unseen whippoorwills, there is a steadying of the ship to combat the coyotes. I love it!
You overcame every obstacle and interruption that came your way to write a poem about writing a poem about interruptions, and I love it! My favorite part is when your husband asks about dinner at 5:30 AM. Those parentheses contained my sentiments exactly. I had to laugh because my husband and I had a similar conversation, similar time this morning, but about lunch instead of dinner. Unlike you, though, I wasn’t deep in the writing process. I think I was reading Dave’s prompt.
I love how you interspersed the language of a poem into the everyday distractions. So universal to all that we are trying not to do while focusing on this challenging task of writing a poem.
Fran — Ya know the craziest thing about this prompt and this poem and all the ones posted so far are incredibly powerful in pulling us all into each other’s heads, lives. I loved following you as you tried to push out all the “interruptions” in order to crank out the poem. It was like having an alter-ego walking in my shoes. Totally cool! Hugs, Susie
Fran, I love this poem about poeming in the whirlwind of life (even at 5:30 in the morning!). There are so many amazing mini poems in here–my favorite is the scene on the back deck, which I suspect might be the poem that you’re trying to write, and it a such a serene counterpoint to the hectic beats of life that come before it. And your opening–
and it’s refrains are so true!
Fran- I love your repetition of “Tryna write the poem” along with your use of italics and line breaks. It really works to convey the thoughts that jump into our heads when we are trying to work on a task. Well done!
Of course the dog is chewing on grandma’s piano. That is an image too original to make up (and to be a dog owner is to now…well, that’s highly possible). I love the wild way Dave’s prompt is offering us all a window into how our brains really think (and I still tell my students I only speak about 1/1,000ths of what goes through my head in a second.
This is so good, Fran, I especially love stanzas 2 and 3, but the whole journey is golden and so relatable.
Fran, I read your poem first thing yesterday morning and couldn’t get to it till this morning. Love it from the title to the final line. So witty, funny, and real with a persistent intent “Tryna write a poem” 🙂
My favorite, and quite relevant, part:
“Um, dinner tonight?
I don’t know…
how about waffles?
(Do we HAVE to talk about this now?
It’s five-thirty in the morning…)”
Thanks for permission to be all over the place, Dave
Kevin
Pause, for a poem –
this sounds
like something
Sarah Vaughn
might sing —
while the playlist rambles on,
jumping from jazz to rock,
and then it’s John Prine again–
you
‘re
writ
ing
a
po
em,
re
member? —
you’re humming the words
he’s warbling, anyway,
finding a flow through the story;
little artifacts,
everywhere
Kevin, music is such a part of your life. I love that it permeates your poems so frequently. Little artifacts,/everywhere – lyrics in just three words!
I love the way the background music of your morning found its way into your poem. That rambling playlist interrupting your poem added just the right timbre.
Kevin, I always have a song in my head. I thought everyone lived with this, but I’m not sure everyone does. If I let them out today, it would be a gospel song I sang at a funeral on Saturday. I love the many songs you play in your head. How do you ever get anything written?
Kevin, you had me at Sarah Vaughn–and now Im listening to John Prine’s Tiny Desk! But, back to the poem, that ending is amazing–“little artifacts, everywhere“
Kevin — I totally loved the music list… so familiar to my own. “artifacts,/everywhere” — excellent word choices right there. Susie
I love the line breaks even in the middle of words- very effective!
The musicality in your verse (life) remains unique to your style and voice. I absolutely love when you also refer to the music influencing the way your mind works. Thanks for making music for the rest of us.
I love this, Kevin, I can hear the music, Now I’m getting distracted too