Welcome to Verselove—a space for educators to nurture their writing lives and celebrate poetry in the community. Each day in April, we come together to explore the power of poetry for both heart and mind. Write with care, for yourself and your readers. When responding, reflect back the beauty you find—lines that linger, ideas that inspire. Enjoy the journey. (Learn more here.If you’d like to host a Verselove Day in 2026, sign up here.)
Our Host: Larin Wade
Larin teaches Spanish 1 and Honors English I at Lone Grove High School in Lone Grove, Oklahoma. She is in her first year of teaching and is enjoying building connections with students, learning alongside them as she discovers what kind of teacher she wants to be. She loves to read and write, and she has always loved school, so she is excited to be a part of a creative, energetic career where she can help students learn!
Inspiration
As I write this, March has just begun. Rain is coming down. The air is both cool and warm. The end of the school year is coming quickly, and soon my first year of teaching will end. This change of seasons, from Winter to Spring, reminds me of how seasons of life change so quickly—just a year ago I was student teaching seniors, but now I am my own teacher, in charge of a bunch of ninth graders!
A few weeks ago, my English I students wrote sonnets before we began reading Romeo and Juliet. Having a syllable count and rhyme scheme gave them unique parameters to play with words and create serious, loving, and playful sonnets. So, I chose to use the Etheree poem today to set up a format for us to use as we write together.
I hope this prompt will be a relaxing way for you to reflect on the season–Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, or a season of life—you want to reflect on. And, I hope you enjoy counting out the syllables and playing with words!
Process
- Pick a season (Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, or a season of life).
- Consider what images, thoughts, experiences, memories, and emotions you associate with this season.
- Then, write an Etheree poem about that season. An Etheree poem consists of 10 lines with 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10 syllables. (You can also do a reversed Etheree poem with 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, and 1 syllables, or a double etheree poem with 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 9, 8, 7, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 syllables.)
Or, write something else—whatever comes to your heart and mind today!
Larin’s Poem
A New Season
Spring
Rain smell
Wildflowers
Easter dresses
Calm colorful sky
Tornadoes whistling
Indian paintbrushes bloom
Hiking trails newly discovered
Bunnies hopping across a worn path
All a reminder that newness brings life
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers.
Summer
The season that brings happiness and sun
Oh, how I love the warm, bright sunshine
As it glistens on my face so
Soak up rays for a moment-
Before making a splash
The sun sets its mark
Darkens my skin
Face, arms, legs
Leaves white
Tan
Winter
is rest.
So let us
hibernate with
her until the days
grow like flowers and the
light lengthens to kiss blades of
grass. Sun lavishing us with rays
that bring color, chasing away,
transforming restful browns and whites and grays.
What a lovely set of images!
Love these images!
The gentle kiss of red, brown, and orange,
I didn’t know how much I would miss
The crisp apple cider warming
The joy of pumpkin spice latte
And a comfy sweater
On a coldish day
But Florida
Just doesn’t have
Leaves of
Fall
This is lovely! I was not expecting that last line!
I love the comparison you made to a state that doesn’t experience the same type of fall as people who live in the northern states do. I also like that you included the highlights of fall all while keeping the syllables in line. Great Job!
Larin, thanks for the prompt. I am loving the Etheree!
We Are Still a Pair
My
husband
says we are
on our tenth life.
The first one was when
we met in La Peña.
There have been many more since.
Our kids are grown with kids of their
own and now it’s just the two of us.
Forty years later, we are still a pair.
Larin,
thanks for hosting and prompting. I enjoyed seeing the Indian paintbrushes in your poem.
April
Play
With words
Write of grief
Count syllables
Relive downhill rides
Savor aged balsamic
Seek the light at Barton Springs
Shiver in the brook with cousins
Sit on a green park bench by Nature
Visit other poets’ kitchen tables
Sharon, what a beautiful poem referencing your previous poems and some other prompts from this April. I remember your poems where you write about these experiences:
“Relive downhill rides
Savor aged balsamic
Seek the light at Barton Springs.”
Love the final line too. It make me think about an actual gathering at the kitchen table. It would be so great. Thank you!
Sharon, “Play / With words” is such a great (and succinct) way to summarize our Aprils!
(And I loved recognizing/remembering lines from previous poems, especially the “green park bench” with Nature and the feasting heron.)
Larin–such a great prompt! I love etherees, but since I’ve already written a few this month, I decided to tackle a Haibun, which combines a prose piece and Haiku. Hopefully this works!
Spring is a time for bees and buds and blossoms. It seems that everything is in motion, including my students. We’ve passed the time of settled in and are now in the time of change. Plants are sprouting in all the shades of green and my students are sprouting in all the volumes of loud. There is so much they need to say: to each other, to me, to anyone passing by.
Roly polies have become their latest obsession. Those tiny pill bugs are everywhere. And my students are intent on “saving” them (or squishing them, depending on the student). What was once a line of first graders walking to class has now become a mob of children on hands and knees scooping up these little curled crustaceans to protect them from the feet of their peers. Except instead of just moving them to a safer place than the hallway sidewalk, these small creatures often find themselves tucked into pockets and backpacks, or being “petted” by a soft 7-year-old finger on its ribbed back.
In science they are studying birds: their beaks, their feet, their wings. And considering how those parts work together to help the birds survive. In class we took balls of clay, used the meaty part of the side of our hands to flatten and shape them, and crafted our own ceramic birds. A mistake on my part means that the feet they molded will not be attached…but that is another story.
In spring students show off. They strut their stuff. Confidence levels are spiking. They are testing the limits, the boundaries, the rules, their own abilities. It’s the most wonderful time of the year and the hardest season for teaching. But sunshine helps, clay helps, and carefully constructed classroom community prevails…even in spring.
Skies filled with chirping
birds, textured rainbowed feathers
handmade, formed from clay
You can see a photo on my blog post: https://thinkingthroughmylens.com/2025/04/24/springtime-haibun-npm25-day-24/
Kim,
Love the images of your first graders saving—or squashing the roly polys.
Larin,
Newness brings life, certainly, and your etheree brings joy. There is something magical about the calm colourful sky. And there is nothing more thrilling than to make a first step along a newly-discovered hiking trail, which like your etheree, has a surprise round every corner.
H o p e
Smells sweet
Tastes of spring
B ees b uzz ove r
B lossom-dotted plai n
P h o t o s y n t h e s i z i n g
Leaves lap up sun’s sumptuous light
Drip drip drip of drizzle at dusk
Waves carry cowrie shells on shingly shore
Hope wears lei of shells, garland of blossoms
There are so many delightful likes i this! “Leaves lap up sun’s sumptuous light” is such a sweet sounding line! One after another! This is a great poem!
I so love the 6 syllable photosynthesizing on a line all by itself! So much to love about this poem.
Such a beautiful poem! I like how you formatted the words to descend down perfectly. Love this “Drip drip drip of drizzle at dusk”–a combination of onomatopoeia and alliteration! The final line is gorgeous and meaningful. Thank you!
I like how you broke up the space in this poem. It really sounds like the words on the page.
Larin,
Congratulations in completing your first year! How exciting. I hope it went well for you! I loved your spring and am sharing one of my own, too.
Green,
earthy
scent as I
walk Sam down the
stone road. Winter-sore
muscles ache, newly-used.
But it’s a good ache. And we
trot into the drive, past newly
popped hyacinths, the smell heady, rich.
I pick purples, pinks, vasing them bedside.
At night, laptop propped, their smell fills me.
Sam at my toes, out like a light –
The walk did in his winter
muscles, too. Hyacinths
breathe gentle perfume.
I read and write,
window ope,
to spring
air.
Hi Wendy, you have captured so many cosy feelings in your etheree. I can see you with your laptop propped up, Sam at your toes, the gentle perfume of hyacinths wafting to you and you typing your wonderful poems. What a perfect picture you have painted!
Wendy,
I’m here for the John Mellencamp line: “it’s a good ache.” I’ve been enjoying walks w/ Stanley, too. You have lots of lovely cold images and flowers in your poem. I can almost hear the blooming in “popped hyacinths.” Happy Spring!
lol! Now I have to hunt down what song that’s from!
Wait! You were paraphrasing “Hurts So Good”! lol. Duh! Got it.
Wendy,
This sounds heavenly:
Larin,
Your poem is so full of kinetic energy and the beginning of a new season! Thanks for hosting us today!
Rain in the Forecast
This
weekend
our son will
be passing through
like a summer storm—
forecast says still coming!
His presence will be like warm
rain falling, we will drink it in,
when he leaves his absence will tell us
what once was climate is now just weather.
Oh the last line is so clever. Love this connection to this season of your life
Dave,
This was so great! Love the clever metaphors that speak volumes in a such a compact piece. Beautiful!
Dave, I can relate to your poem. My daughter completed her IB Diploma last year and now she is busy applying for universities. I feel a pang in my heart each time I think she will be leaving soon. Your poem reminds me how we need to cherish every moment because each one is as transient as the weather.
I love “forecast says still coming!”—kids can be fickle, and it’s hard to believe what we’ve been waiting for will arrive. You’ve got me sad in advance for my daughter’s fall departure to freshman year of college!
Dave,
this line made me laugh:
This was so bittersweet to read, I like the comparison of your son being like a summer storm. I’m glad to hear you guys had a great time before he had to leave again!
Larin,
You have lots of lovely imagery in your poem, except those tornadoes, with which I’m am intimately familiar. Thank you for hosting and for giving us the option to write about a season of life, which is the option I chose given my obsession w/ the topic.
Almost Dead
Now is the season of my downhill slide
Soon I’ll soar over the last cliff like
Thelma and Louise, knowing I
raised a little hell and took
difficult stands. My life
is a palimpsest—
stories written,
read, revised,
rubbed out,
shelved.
Glenda Funk
4-24-25
Glenda, oof, so much of your poem resonates for me, especially that downhill slide and cliff I can imagine flying over. Your voice is compelling and honest. I agree you’ve most likely raised a little hell and have taken difficult stands. I know you are a fighter and not one to sit by quietly. Your final part though is particularly difficult as we consider what happens after the end (being rubbed out and shelved). Ouch. Sometimes I feel like that as though my words and efforts do not matter: silenced, forgotten, and ignored. Almost Dead is definitely a striking title. Remarkable poem, one that feels very close to home!
Thelma and Louise! If you aren’t raising hell, are you even living? Keep up the good fight!
Glenda, I’m sliding down, too, and it brings to mind those images of novice skiers on ski slopes gone wrong…..Love your take on the season and that it isn’t weather-related but life. Palimpsest is a new word for me, but the superimposed later writing on earlier writing shows the shifts and revisions and the positions on difficult stands. I like that you raised a little hell.
Glenda, I am glad my prompt gave you space to write today! I enjoyed reading your poem and seeing the reverse Etheree form in action. I particularly like your line “knowing I raised a little hell and took difficult stands” because it leaves the sentiment of giving your all. Thank you for sharing today!
Your voice and humor make this a fun read. Rubbed out and shelved make for a great ending. Thanks for sharing this season and all of them.
What a clever inversion of the Etheree. Oh, but to be shelved… there’s the possibility of being checked out again! I’m put in mind of the very end of The Things They Carried, the young kid saying that death is just your story waiting to be checked off the library shelf again or something like that… And it sounds like yours is a story worth reading.
Glenda, I am right there, next to you on that downhill. I am so glad that I met you! Someone has to raise a little hell, and you, my friend, is the best person to do that because you raise it for the right reasons. I had to look up “palimpsest” – never saw this word before. Always learning from you!
Glenda, I love the metaphor of your life as a “palimpsest”! And the Thelma and Louise reference. This whole thing made me smile, and since I’m approaching retirement in two years, I could so relate to this.
Glenda, I love how you cleverly reversed the etheree to create the image of a cliff. I like the energy in your poem and how everything seems to be hurtling towards something inevitable. I also like the metaphor of the palimpsest for life and the idea that we can erase and write over it all again.
Dunno about that downhill slide, but Thelma and Louise tracks! The poem looking like a cliff is a pretty remarkable visual feature. And the finality of the last 4 lines leaves me with a shudder.
Glenda, thank you for this honest account. Your title just makes me laugh though. You seem anything but almost dead. When I wrote my regret prose poem this week, your comment reminded me of this: “My life / is a palimpsest—” And I read that as a positive. As you said, “People who grow and evolve have regrets, and we learn from them. At least we try to learn from them.” So, I see the palimpsest as a revision of your mistakes and new chapters written. (I’m not sure my analogy fits for those last two lines, though.) I like that you “raise a little hell and take / difficult stands”
Spring:
A time
For outside
Activities.
Weather is warming.
The days are lengthening.
More daylight to apprehend
the unsuspecting immigrants.
Maybe the weather inside’s better.
A cozy home, a locked door, and no ICE.
Ooof this chipper tone took a turn all too real. Important piece.
Cheri, This line made me just stop: “More daylight to apprehend
the unsuspecting immigrants” and think about the desperate times. Indeed, “no ICE” feels safe nowadays. Thank you for this poem!
Oh, that last line, Cheri. This was really powerful.
I was surprised how this turned to immigrants and the current climate of Spring turning into hiding. The immigrants have to miss so much. Yes, stay safe in a cozy home.
Larin, thanks for hosting today. I like how your poem leads to your brilliant final line.
Still Life in Autumn
my
busy
nest quiets
golden leaves drift
cool as autumn birds
winging goodbye, vanish
like football jerseys and cleats
sunlight disappears, new moons rise
Barb Edler
24 April 2025
Barb, I love the bird imagery and all the soft floating images particularly the new moon. Lovely!
Barb,
I really like your title, which echoes your love of ekphrastic poetry. I also love the bird imagery: “nest,” “winging,” and the final line is so ethereal: “sunlight disappears, new moons rise.” Did you see that the moon, Jupiter, and another planet will form a smiley face in the early morning nighttime hours?
The play of light and color is strong here – golden, autumn, sunlight and moonlight. I feel the change of the winds from hot to cool and love the sounds you bring too.
Barb, I love how your poem reminds me of being a teenager and becoming an adult. As the birds “wing goodbye,” I hope the new moons that arise bring joy!
Barb, this image of “golden leaves drift[ing] / cool as autumn birds / winging goodbye” seems so familiar and nostalgic, especially with the mention of the quiet nest. However, the new moon rise gives us a promise of something new, a rebirth. The tone of you poem is calm and cozy. You are so skilled at imagery, like a great painter with a few brush strokes.
Barb, beautiful imagery in this that sets such a perfect mood!
Barb, I like this autumn of life poem. “My busy nest quiets” is a good way to describe the empty nest. That last line is hopeful and interesting.
Fall
Cozy
Crisp leaves crunch
I smell nostalgia
I feel my heart oozing
Take me back to junior high
Tramping through the woods with my friends
We will make embarrassing movies
And we will love whole-heartedly- no fear
Oh I like this, I had a memory flashback while reading this. Thanks for sharing your Fall.
I love how you simultaneously brought the coziness of fall together with the coziness of friendship. Great job circling back to the leaves; it is beautiful and cohesive.
This poem is a lovely reminder of fall. I can just feel and imagine the fun times this season holds and the fond memories it keeps.
A.N.,
Oh, this took me back to high school and really made me feel the nostalgia that you refer to.
Oh, those were the days!
Junior high and all the tramping around with friends. So fun and free!
Fall
cool breeze
warm weather
sweaty armpits
start of the school year
I wonder, do I smell?
cool breeze again, I feel cool
No more sweaty pits. Thank you Fall
The sun is here, but no heat present.
Fall you are weird, but I love your changes.
Ha, the cool mornings and hot afternoons in need of deodorant. Thanks for sharing this funny take on autumn.
The funny twist in this poem reminds me of teenage boys! Makes me appreciate fall and the cool weather it provides to ease the heat of summer. Thank you for sharing today!
AJ,
LOL!! I hate to say it, but I hear you about the sweatiness. That’s one thing I love about fall and winter: the dearth of classroom stink! XD
Larin, thank you for your invitation to write a poem sharing a season in syllables. While I considered a more direct approach, I remembered the passage I’d read last night in The Crossing, Cormac McCarthy. He’s words are poetry. I whittled them down into this Etheree.
from The Crossing
snow
halfway
to horse’s
belly – looked down
cocked ears at winter
birds – no tracks in pass – crossed
a running branch so black in
snow it caused horse to balk for slight
movement of water – no crevice split
hundred yards farther track of wolf entered trail
Jamie, your poem brilliantly celebrates McCarthy’s work. Your word choices magically recreate this striking scene. I especially enjoyed the lines: a running branch so black in
snow it caused horse to balk for slight
movement of water – no crevice split.
Powerful found poem.
What a cool poem, Jamie. From this poem, I can feel the threat of winter. Lovely job finding the syllables to paint this picture from The Crossing. Thank you for sharing!
spring surprises
sky
grey blue
breeze pushing
the clouds across
like rowdy children
unexpectedly rough
what’s up with today’s weather?
the app says partly sunny, warm
should I believe my phone or the air?
grab an extra sweater and umbrella
Maureen, you’ve captured your actions well in this poem. I like how you use your direct observations and app to make the final decision. Probably a very wise choice. Spring weather is full of surprises. Loved your simile!
Believe my phone or the air can fit for so many things!! Thanks for sharing this take on spring.
Maureen, I share your sentiment quite often! The weather in Oklahoma is extremely fickle, so I never know what I truly need to be prepared for. I guess it is better to have a sweater and umbrella and not need them than to need them and not have them! Thank you for sharing this relatable, light-hearted poem.
Maureen, yes, grab that sweater and umbrella. Spring isn’t too reliable. Love the simile comparing clouds to rowdy children – unusual, but very fitting here. Thank you!
Spring sure is a tricky season! I like that you included the question of “should I believe my phone or the air?” because sometimes it really does feel like that.
Nature Walk
the air is chlly and cold on my face
a breeze whisps strands of hair on my cheek
yellow daisies are around me
birds twitter in the shadows
still I need sunglasses
breathe in the coolness
bullfrogs croaking
blowballs float
drifting
silent
A wonderful prompt today. Thanks Larin and may you continue to love teaching. It is rewarding.
I love how this ends with “silent.” Your poem is a very peaceful embrace of nature.
Susan, I love how your poem shares the space between the seasons – “air is chilly and cold on my face” – “breeze whisps strands of hair o my cheek” as compared to “yellow daisies” – “birds twitter” – “need sunglasses” – Today I wore shorts for my morning walk for the first time.
Susan!! I loved reading this poem about walks, I feel that they are underrated and I appreciate how much you enjoy them!
This is beautiful. It feels nostalgic. I feel gratitude for the cool weather that makes you feel warm inside. To be pleasantly chilly is a favorite feeling of mine.
Susan, I love how your poem invites me into your nature walk. The color and sensory appeal make me feel as though I am also there hearing the birds twitter in the shadow and the bullfrog’s croak. I especially enjoyed your end!
Susan,
I feel as though I’m on this walk w/ you. It is so familiar w/ the cool breeze, the “yellow daisies,” “bullfrogs croaking.” Your poem is so layered w/ textures and images. Lovely.
Another fun prompt- thank you! I didn’t want to have to pick a season, so I doubled my etheree and crammed in two seasons.
Silver white winters that melt into springs . . .
Brr.
Snowflakes.
Ice rain falls.
Hope I don’t slip.
Where is the snow melt?
I hate February.
Why does the snow fall so late?
Why no snow in January?
Too cold to snowshoe when the snow fell.
I can’t wait for spring sunshine and flowers.
Spring sunshine and flowers mean lots of rain
Must fall so they have a chance to grow.
There is much thunder and lightning.
And the dog paces the house.
But storms mean happy plants.
And I can garden.
Watch out for ticks.
And flooding.
Raindrops.
Wet.
Wonderful title – and such a fun idea to write about both winter and spring; I love how the two parts meld together visually in your poem, in much the same way winter shifts into spring. This line lingers with me – “storms mean happy plants.” Love that acceptance.
Amazing work with this double Etheree, it felt like I was reading a Palindrome. I’m hoping we get more snow in the near future years, I would like my children and grandchildren to grow up with the same winters I’ve experienced.
Your set up is so interesting. I love how created your lines to be shorter, to longer, to shorter again. It is a very nice pattern and great for your transition of speaking about winter to speaking about spring.
Sheila, I adore the way you insert personal questions within this poem. I can feel the wetness, cold, and can hear the dog pacing. I loved “But storms mean happy plants.”
A neat transition between the two with 1-10 and 10-1. Love the fluidity.
Love your allusion to the Sound of Music here, Sheila! I enjoyed reading your poem and its journey from winter to spring. Spring can be so refreshing after the cold of winter. Thank you for sharing here!
Hi Larin,
I love “Indian paintbrushes bloom”. I don’t know much at all about flowers and never heard of it. I love introducing students to poetry forms that include syllable counts. It’s fun to see them counting, just like I have to!
Crawfish Season Somewhere
It’s
crawfish
season in
the great state of
Louisiana.
I only know through face
book though, unable to taste the
juicy, cajuny goodness that
is suckin’ heads then blobbin butter
on a potato to calm down the spice
Mmmmm. I’m landlocked in Pennsylvania, but I can practically smell those mudbugs in your poem!
Crawfish season! I love that you have all the jargon that is only known through Facebook!
Angie, I love your clever take on this season. I have not tried crawfish, though in Arizona we used to catch them. I always chose to not try them. I wish I would have now. You sound experienced! I guess it must not be crawfish season where you are!
Angie,
I like the wistfulness of your title. I love a good crawfish boil. A friend used to host a great one every year, but she stopped when she moved to a house with a smaller yard and I really miss the annual gatherings of
Oh . . . now I’m craving crawdads . . .
an etheree for fall
fall,
friends and
footballs thrown
through crowded fields
smiles wide, sweaters on,
the air is getting cold,
but friends’ hugs are now warmer,
wrapped around their waists, leaves start
to fall all around us as we love
proudly, boldly, and warmly in the cold.
such a fun prompt today!
Been so long since I experienced these things – used to be my whole life in fall when I lived in the states. Thanks for the memories, especially of football.
Fall is my favorite, and you captured it so well here, Molly. I love the lines “the air is getting cold,/ but friends’ hugs are now warmer.”
Some great alliteration in this sweet etheree. I’m smiling at the concluding words – “as we love/proudly, boldly, and warmly in the cold.”
Molly, thank you for sharing your fall memories -I love all you add to create a positive feeling – “smiles wide” – “sweaters on . . . but friends’ hugs are now warmer” – “we love/proudly, boldly and warmly” always coming back to warmth
You’ve really captured the joy of fall. Your poem feels like a rom com. That is a compliment among the best I can give.
Love line 9-10 about loving a little warmer in the cold weather. The fun of fall and nostalgia. Thanks for sharing.
Molly, I enjoyed your poem about fall, especially when you mentioned football and sweaters since these symbolize fall for me, too! Thank you for sharing such a warm poem.
Larin, I am only finishing up my second year of teaching so I’m very close to some of the same things you are feeling as a new educator. Thank you for your prompt! Here’s mine for today:
Spring
April
Finally!
The clouds lessen ,
the sun warms the skin
hope sprouts, small buds at first
growing into bloom. Beauty
in hues only our eyes can know.
Artificial colors will not do
Winter. Spring. Beginning. End. Life. Death. Cyclical.
I like the one sentence words in your last line ending with “cyclical”
“hope sprouts, small buds at first” – this makes me smile so! Buds and hope go together so beautifully.
Luke I’ve enjoyed reading this! Today was definitely one of the warmer days and this poem perfectly reflects the weathery day I’ve had. Hope to see more days like this!
Makes me think of how a “picture can’t do it justice” with real life colors and beauty before us. Thanks for sharing
Luke, I am glad I am not alone in the feelings of being a new educator! Your line “Finally!” is how I feel when spring is finally here and the trees get their leaves and the grass is green again and the flowers start to bloom. I love how you end your poem with the cyclical nature of seasons. Thank you for sharing!
I chickened out of the last Etheree prompt, but you’ve roped me in!
Summer
It’s
as if
the oven
door is open,
even at breakfast.
Cut melon, plump berries.
“Cantaloupe without a man,”
my mom always said while slicing,
readying for a day at the pool.
A teacher like me, summers together.
Those first four five lines capture the feel of summer mornings so well. And “Cantaloupe without a man” cracked me up.
Love the last line of this cute etheree! Glad you decided to write one!
Lol at “Cantaloupe without a man,” such a fun memory that must burst across your mind throughout summer, as you indulge in this delight.
This made me smile. My parents were both teachers and loved spending summers with us kids. Now I get to visit them more during my summers. Thanks for sharing and love the ‘lope.
Kate, the specific memory in this poem holds such a sweet sentiment. My mom also works in education and has summers off. Time with mothers can be so precious. Thank you for sharing!
Kate,
LOL! ““Cantaloupe without a man,” is both hilarious and true! Yes! Summer, depending on where one lives, is “as if / the oven / door is open.” I lived in Arizona back
in the 1980s and definitely had that baking in the oven feeling much of the year.
Kate, good for you, letting yourself be roped into an etheree today. I like it, and you make it look so easy. That 7th line is fascinating. I’m wondering about that saying. The last line–what a gift to have a mom as a teacher. “Summers together”
Thank you for your prompt Larin. I am happy I learnt something new today, I will try this type of writing with my students too. Wishing you many more years in teaching.
As a background, I come from Mauritius, a tropical island where it’s almost always summer. Here is my take on Fall though.
Fall
Leaves fall,
branches lone,
Sight desolate,
Yet hopes for newness.
That life will continue
A season of transition-
Non existent where I live but
I imagine how life wilts like the rose
Then life begins to bloom with hope again.
I don’t mind missing fall but I do miss a real winter in Mauritius
I love “I imagine how life wilts like the rose” in your etheree.
“A season of transition-
Non existent where I live” – such good words for me to read, reminding that nature is not the same everywhere. I know I would miss seasons.
larin, thank you for your prompt and poem this morning. First, I am in awe of all you are doing and your professional contributions in your first year of teaching. Also. you are so right about the power of syllables and word count to make you both selective and careful in your word choice. Today is both my sister’s birthday and Holocaust Remembrance Day every year. I had to stop and comment on remembering the Holocaust with my own one slightly different format at the end.
Today
We should
Take time, remember
Targeting people against people,
Blind following of cult leaders.
Ghettos, hiding, labor and concentration camps,
Mass deportations, brutal treatment, targeted starvation, murder,
Hate over rational thinking, Antisemitism over common sense,
Million of Jewish people lost, plus Gypsies, dissenters, disabled,
Please end persecuting based on religion, heritage Holocaust Remembrance Day,
Today.
Yes. Thank you for this offering of peace and love for ALL!
Anita,
One of the things I like thinking about w/ poetry is how and why a writer chooses to break a pattern. This is both intentional and rhetorical in your poem, and in my reading it’s a commentary on our broken system that currently replicates the worst of humanity. This is why I speak up and often write from a political perspective. I refuse to go along to get along. When we visited Dachau in 2019 our guide told us the townspeople had no idea what was happening at the camp. That struck me as a false narrative, yet here we are w/ so many refusing to name the harm, the evil happening now. I appreciate your poem so much. Indeed, we must remember. It’s more important now than at any time in recent memory.
Such a powerful poem. I love that you used today’s prompt to share such an impactful message.
Thank you for recognizing this day. I am moved to tears at man’s inhumanity to man. This idea of “Targeting people against people” – yes, it is an instigated hate, brought on by “Blind following of cult leaders” …and it is so very painful that it keeps happening. I just do not understand. Thank you for speaking out.
Anita, thank you for sharing your powerful poem. The targeting and blind followers is alarming while we witness incredible cruelties. Yes, let’s please end the persecution and always remember history so we quit making the same horrific mistakes. Too many have suffered and died because of a tyrant’s maniacal rule.
Raw and emotional. Thanks for sharing this heavy reminder in such poetic form. The contrasts are beautiful and painful all at once
The Struggle Is Real
My
senior
students can
articulate
their most impassioned
arguments logically
(with facts and truth to back them)
all the while also arguing
that they have Senioritis so bad
they must take off days to recuperate
____________________________________________
Larin, thank you for your mentor poem and prompt today! “[N]ewness brings life”! Yes!
For Seniors, these days, the struggle is real. I even get it with my GRAD students who are approaching graduation and asking for mercy in their required work!
Scott, I often wonder what it’s like for high school seniors these days. My 5th graders have some kind of “itis” too.
Scott,
Since you’re not a spring chicken (I’ve seen that head of silver locks) tell the seniors you have Seniorcitizenitis. Also, say, “Thanks for sharing.” I taught seniors, too, so this struggle is familiar. Thanks for sharing!
Oh my goodness, I’m living this at home this year, too, as my only child finishes high school. “The struggle is real,” indeed. Funny… I think about how when I’m almost done with a semester, with a stack of grading, with a book, something slows in me, something feels done enough and wants to go outside and walk under the magnolia trees.
Such a real poem! As a senior now, I feel like this, too! We have senioritis but at the same time are so resilient in our work! I love this poem!
It feels like all of us have senioritis this time of year. The struggle IS real!
Ah, the season of Senioritis!! Love this, Scott. I only ever experienced this as a mother – it must be so challenging to be their teacher. Bravo, you!
Scott, oh, boy, do I remember those few final weeks trying to make sure my seniors did not sabotage themselves because they just had to have a skip day ad nauseum.
Ha this made me laugh. Tis the season! About 30 days to go around here. Hope they make it memorable!
Scott, your poem perfectly summarizes seniors at this time of the year (and, all of senior year?). It is a joy to see their growth and their abilities, but that senioritis can seem impossible to overcome! Thank you for sharing today!
Scott, you raise the issue that is pressing for all students, but for seniors it’s even more overwhelming. I like the “diagnosis” you made up – Senioritis. Let them recuperate, even if they don’t bring an excuse ))
That senioritis bug hits every year. At least they are still formulating logical arguments!
Ha! I love the juxtaposition of their skills and their senioritis! Perfectly crafted.
Inner Temp
warmth
rising
hot flashes
every dang night
sweaty wet PJs
like roasting in a kiln
days start unable to cope
now weather outside does the same
humidity makes breathing so hard
and I don’t even live in the tropics
~Susan Ahlbrand
24 April 2025
Oh Susan, I hear you. Those warming trends that we ALL go through are really challenging and caused me to eliminate turtle neck tops and sweaters as well as ANY warm clothing that could not be easily removed. LAYERS,
Susan, this is so funny! “roasting in a kiln” I remember those nights! (The good thing is, this season will pass.) The title sets us up, and then those last lines made me realize the double whammy you’ll have this summer.
Susan, I feel you!! I started bio-identical hormone replacement therapy and it is a game changer. Sending cool vibes and chilly wishes for your relief.
Susan, you nailed it– “roasting in a kiln” is so accurate.
Okay, friend…..there is a hot flash fan on Amazon that is a well kept secret. It doesn’t cure, but it sure does comfort. I can feel the rise of the heat…..yes, and the sweaty back of the head……no tropics needed. This can happen in 20 degrees to women everywhere. I feel it, remember it……(mostly past it, but oh, the memories)…..
Clever combination of seasons and temperatures. Thanks for sharing and sorry for the heat!!
Hi Larin,
congratulations on finishing up your first year of teaching. I hope that it was as fulfilling for you as you anticipated. I love the etheree form. Your poem brings me hope and light. Thank you for offering us this opportunity to think about the seasons in syllables.
Summer Etheree
School
ends in
thirty-two
more days. Summer
is the best time to
pause, breathe, reset, travel
or read books I have yet to
start. Maybe Sci-Fi or YA
novels in verse. Or take long beach walks
and soak in the sunshine while giving thanks.
© Stacey L. Joy, 4/24/25
Yay, hooray for summer. You’ve got all the priorities down, Stacey. You’ve managed to list so many wonderful things about summer in so few syllables. Here’s to those long walks at the beach, giving thanks. (One of my favorites in your poem.)
I love how the holidays seem so inviting and the summer days help in making positivity kick in. I really connect with what you’ve written because this is how summer vacations look like for me.
The ultimate season of change! Change of pace, weather, and down time. About 30 to go for me, too!
Thank you Stacey, it has been a great year full of learning and some pretty great students, for which I am thankful.
The hope and opportunity that summer holds is apparent in your poem. Makes me excited for summer and the recharging time that comes with it! Thank you for sharing today!
I love your “Summer Etheree,” Stacey! I’m looking forward to the “pause, breathe, reset” that summer provides! (And your image compliments your poem so well!)
Larin, thank you for hosting today. The last line of your poem is a sweet message for the reader: “All a reminder that newness brings life” I enjoyed reading about your Oklahoma springtime. My poem is a continuation of yesterday’s where I suggested I needed a new word for springtime in the desert.
What
To call
this magic–
where color, scent,
and gentle blossoms
hold sway in the breeze of
perfection, and greens abound
‘til they dry into brown season?
What can one call this sweet enchantment,
which changes daily as fresh buds open
and others take leave until next year’s bloom?
The ladderback woodpecker sips sweet
nectar with the hummingbird, both
share the wealth of this spring dawn.
Shall I call it “Birds-sing-
buds-burst-forth” season?
Or shall I just
savor this
one fine
day?
I love this. Sips sweet nectar, birds . . . buds burst. You have such strong alliteration. It really works and makes it more sensory. Beautiful poem.
Ohhhh, what a lovely phrase to ponder!
Denise, even with the bird friends I love this poem. Love the enjoyment of it all.
What a lovely form your poem has. And I’m a sucker for bird-naming: “The ladderback woodpecker sips sweet / nectar with the hummingbird”!
I love the pondering throughout your poem. I like your possible name for the season!
Denise,
I think we all want spring to hang around longer when it’s the perfect time of year you describe in the desert. Alas, we are human and want more and want what we cannot have. “brown season” is apt for the hot, dry, monotone color when the sun is sending the temps to the heavens. I’d go with
“Or shall I just
savor this
one fine
day?”
and remember while you’re enjoying the idyllic season, some are still watching snow melt.
Denise, wow, your poem sings with magic. I love the way you capture your surroundings. It’s clear that you are enchanted, and I adore your question: Shall I call it “Birds-sing-
buds-burst-forth” season? followed by your final question. Gorgeous poem! I felt completely transported.
Denise, besides loving everything about the poem, I especially am drawn to the double letters of the bird species…..and to words throughout the poem. Those double letters remind me of bees, the busy time of buzzing and blooming…..these double letters show the fast pace.
Wow Denise, the imagery in your poem here is beautiful. I especially love your line “the ladderback woodpecker sips sweet / nectar with the hummingbird”…man, I would love to see that in person! Thank you for sharing your rendition of “Birds-sing-buds-burst-forth” season.
Denise, you may call it ““Birds-sing-buds-burst-forth” season” today and think of another name tomorrow. You will come up with something reflecting your feelings tomorrow. It sounds like you live in such a magical place. We may go on a road trip to California in late June, early July. I will let you know where we are going to pass. Maybe, we can meet for lunch or something. Hugs!
Yes, indeed! I hope we can meet up!
Fall.
Autumn
Trees ablaze
With Golden glows
Magenta Magic
Marmalade and Amber
The crisp smell of McIntosh
Fireplaces and bonfires, too.
Time to break out the sweaters and boots
Hibernation season is upon us.
And, yesterday’s poem . . .
To-Day List
Drink a huge glass of iced water.
Stretch.
No, really stretch. Take your time.
Go outside.
Look up at the sky.
Smell a flower or seven.
Sneeze.
Smile at a stranger.
Hug a friend.
Say, “I love you” more than once.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Tell yourself that you are enough.
Watch the sunset.
Sleep well.
Whoa, that title “To-Day List” amazing!
I also love your use of color here:
Julie, I love your line “Hibernation season is upon us” as it reminds me of dark winter nights and cozying up in my blanket against the cold weather. Reminds me that every season has its positives. And, I love your “To-Day List” poem as it is a reminder to slow down… Thank you for sharing!
Larin, welcome to one of the most gratifying careers one could choose! Glad you’re adding a new voice to our group. And, thanks for inviting us to talk about the seasons. Today, I went natural, not personal. But, you can feel the untdertones. RIght? The poem looks like steps one could sit on to view what is being described. Hmmm. I didn’t notice that before!
Spring Springing
Spring
Birds flit
Ducks squabble
Geese splattering
Trees blossoming bright
Thunder crashing all night
Nesters searching for right twigs
Here there is no squealing of pigs
Now I live in Michigan city
Spring still is noisy. Spring still is pretty.
I enjoyed counting the syllables while reading. Your poem really makes me want to experience the transition from winter to spring where life resumes at its best.
I love those “nesters searching for right twigs”—makes me think of what joy we had when, years after making it, someone finally moved into our handmade birdhouse. How fun it is to watch that Robin mama furnish her home…
That must have been fun. When we leaved in Western Massachusetts, we put out bird feeders and squirrels scrambled up the screens to reach the feeders…and the weight of the squirrels pulls holes into the screens! We had to take down the feeders.
Anna, thank you for your kind words!
I enjoyed the Spring imagery in your poem, especially “Thunder crashing all night” as it seems we have had thunderstorms every night in my area for almost a week! Thank you for sharing today!
Counting syllables is fun, but I opted for free verse. Thank you for the prompt.
The first green shoots of springtime sing to me,
Then budding trees send blossoms to the sky.
As purple, pink, and white shine bright above,
The grass is dotted with yellow and blue.
Rejoicing in the gift of colors bright
After the winter’s chilling shades of cold,
I listen to the birdsong from the trees
And welcome sunbeams shining through the leaves.
Spring starts and stops as winter fights again
Demanding extra time for frost and snow,
But flurries melt and verdure takes its place.
My sneeze confirms that Spring has finally won.
Okay, I tried harder to meet the demands of the etheree, and I think I did that, but it isn’t seasonal and is religious. So, fair warning.
EKG
Elusive happiness
Enlighting future,
Finding center,
Touching home,
Being
One
Heart
Pulsing life,
Embracing love,
Balancing path goals,
Moving beyond myself,
Prioritizing
What is needful,
Grasping hope,
Holding
Fast
Rod
Steady.
Seeking light
Filling with light
Embracing His Light
Holding Light in my mind
While in darkness,
Crossing shadows
Walking blind
Trusting
One
Who
Knows all
When I’m lost
Understands me
Forgives foolish pride
Covers my weaknesses
Offers me entrance
Welcomes me home
Leads the way
Beyond.
Joy
Kelley, this is visually beautiful, like a healthy EKG. I’m intrigued by the special bolded words, and the message is one of quiet and peaceful hope and faith.
Thank you. I appreciate you reading it, and I’m glad you didn’t mind that it was religious.
Kelley, so fun! I love “Rejoicing in the gift of colors bright” Yes, so missed during the winter. That third stanza is a good reminder to me of what happens in so many parts of our country. I remember once in Iowa having a snow day in May! I haven’t seen the word “verdure” before, so thanks for that new word to describe what’s happening in spring.
I believe it. The only month I have never seen it snow here in this mountainous desert is July. Thank you for your comments. Louis L’Amour set some of his novels in your neighborhood. Have you read them? He does amazing things with description–far more introspective and engaging than the shoot-em-up movies they made from his novels.
Resting Seeds
I am in a season of perpetual spring: planting seeds,
watering -lings, fertilizing soil, pulling weeds, begging for flowers.
I move from one bed to the next
imagining a garden of labor others can
stroll through, encounter joy, rest awhile,
but mostly be inspired, moved
to lean in, touch
maybe consider they
might or are
planting seeds
too.
Even without the yard work, I could see your season of planting seeds through teaching. I love the double meaning here. Well done.
Oh, I loved this! I liked how you had to dig deeper in order to see the double meaning. Thank you!
Sarah, what a joy to be planting a garden with hopes of sharing it and inspiring others to see their own way of planting seeds. This is lovely, and the title speaks to me in ways of understanding ourselves and others when we don’t seem to be growing. Maybe our seeds are resting. Beautiful etheree today.
Sarah, your poem is a gorgeous metaphor for your instructional efforts. Your labor is obviously full of love and best intentions.
Love the double meaning here as you write about helping teachers grow (or, that is how I interpreted it!). The work you put into them will definitely be noticed by the many students they will teach in their careers! And what a worthy work it is…
Autumnal Etheree
By Mo Daley 4/24/25
Fall
ing from
trees like a
child from a bike,
leaves carpet the yard,
in a tapestry of
color reminding me to
slow down, breathe in and appreci
ate the golden hours of life, as I
welcome the warmth of nature’s patchwork quilt
Fall is my favorite season. Your beautiful poem made me eager for fall again so I can “welcome the warmth of nature’s patchwork quilt.”
Mo, I like this two-tone autumnal etheree. I smiled at the simile of a child falling from a bike. It makes me think about this stage of life I’m in. But, I really love the description of this chapter as “the golden hours of life” and that last line is just perfection.
I absolutely adore this! I love how you worked with the syllable count to let your words fall onto the next line! So clever! I especially love “Fall/ing.” As we read the next line, it truly feels like we’re falling. Love this!
Mo, I love how you break the syllables to follow the pattern. I need to remember that. With Fall – ing if allow us to feel the drop preparing us for your simile – like a child from a bike. Love your image of “leaves carpet the yard,/in a tapestry of/color” so easy to envision. And finally your break in the word appreci-ate helps us slow down as we read mirroring your message. Thanks for sharing.
Mo, wow, I love everything about this poem. I love the way you opened with the falling like a child from a bike, and close with appreciating that gorgeous “patchwork quilt”. Amazing poem that resonates for me.
Mo,
The two central images (simile, metaphor) of falling leaves as a child falling off a bike, and a tapestry are gorgeous. I love the *fall* pun in the first word.
Thank you for this prompt, Laurin. Like you, I’ve found that many students respond well to poetry prompts with clear parameters; truthfully, I do, too. The etheree is always fun, and I really enjoyed pairing it with a season. In fact, I may keep playing with this throughout the day to double it, heading back up to ten syllables
Eliot claims April is the cruellest
month, forcing flowers to bloom again.
He didn’t live in Ottawa.
Our last snow melted Sunday.
We long for the lilacs
he so disdained, for
any colour
other than
dingy
gray.
I love how you have used the etheree as a narrative poem. We write so many personal narratives in schools that I just know students would love to craft some concise story scenes. This is a lovely reflection on winter to spring in a very specific context – -place-based poetry. It was 90 degrees in Oklahoma this week.
Amanda,
“He didn’t live in Ottawa” is a fantastic clap-back to Eliot. I don’t know if you’ve heard this before or not, but in one of my grad classes we talked about that line in The Wasteland as a response to Chaucer’s opening to the Prologue of The Canterbury Tales. I wonder what Eliot would write in response to the April we’ve had under the regime. I’m w/ you in longing for the lilacs. I’ve always loved lilacs and think about them as Whitman envisions them. Anyway, I love your poem. It’s sparking all kinds of thinking for me today.
Amanda, what a fantastic opening! I love how your poem moves, and I do appreciate your disdain for “dingy gray”. Gorgeous and powerful poem!
Fall
into
autumn. Feel
the cool air on
your skin. Play in the
musty, crunchy leaves. See
majestic red and yellow
colors painted on the mountains.
Taste the tangy, tart apple cider.
Relax by a crackling fire–dreaming.
So many sense here, Melissa: crunch leaves; majestic red; tangy, tart. I almost miss the fall, but my skin is aching for sun.
This is very tactile. I love that. I have a bad habit of making my sensory imagery mostly visual. While you cover the other four senses, you don’t ignore tactile. Very well done.
Melissa, I like how your poem shows that fall gives us opportunities we can take, and it is our choice whether to take them or not. I will have to play in the leaves this fall!
Thank you Larin for the invitation to write an etheree. I just have become familiar with this form and have been playing with it. Glad to play some more. I love how the form allows your poem to bloom!
Magnolia
Pink
Purple
Magnolia,
Each branch, perfume
Hangs heavy with dew,
Stand beneath and breath in,
Let it wrap you in delight,
Cover you with its sweet fragrance,
Let go of every anxious thought,
Inhale all of this beautiful season.
Oh, yes, “let it wrap you in delight.” This phrase really embodies and invites us to imagine this blanket of color.
Joanne, I love the idea of “each branch, perfume.” I especially appreciate the thought of inhaling a season.
I love Magnolia trees. I could picture exactly what you described.
This poem does bloom! Reading it reminded me of the Easter Lily plants blooming in my house and I am enveloped with the scent.
Childhood Summer
Books
Reading
Riding bikes
Rollerskating
Broken leg summer
Trips to the library
Summer vacation, Bass Lake
Attempts to walk across the lake
Eating Swedish fish at the ball park
Carefree days, no worries, out until dark.
©️Jennifer Kowaczek April 2025
Larin, this was fun! I like that your invitation includes seasons of life. My poem is a mash up of childhood summers but the vacations at Bass Lake, Indiana were annual — my grandparents owned a summer home there. I might revisit this prompt later today and focus my poem on just Bass Lake.
You brought me back to summer, Jennifer – especially those Swedish fish!
I really appreciate the interplay of the universal images (hey, me too! I liked reading and riding bikes and roller skating!) and the specific memories (Bass Lake, walking across the lake & eating Swedish fish at the ball park). You’ve captured summer here.
As many teachers anticipate summer, this poem really hits home with nostalgia and anticipation in the “Swedish fish” and “out until dark.”
What a fun summer! Other than the broken leg, anyway. I can taste the Swedish fish at the ball park, and feel the breeze, and the struggle, of rollerskating. Nicely done.
I love summer and I, too, remember those carefree days and staying out until dark.
This form echoes back to yesterday’s list poem. All those wonderful things we had time for in our childhood summers. I remember the summer I broke my foot. Yuck!
Jennifer, this was interesting to read, in hopes that you did not try walking across Bass leaked to get the library with a broken leg!
Larin, thank you for hosting and this prompt. I love spring; it makes me feel better when I see its signs everywhere. In your poem, I am leaning to the wildflowers and calm colorful sky. I used to walk to school past the street full of cherry trees in blossom.
Spring
She
Tiptoes,
Glides softly
Through tiny yards,
Past waking gardens,
Sends chirping scouts ahead,
Drizzles pale milk drops across
The cherry limbs, brushing blossoms
Into bunches of pure angel-white–
The world exhales in petals, light, and song
I love the personification in your poem, Leilya. I can just see Spring tiptoeing in! I’m amazed that you could pack so many lovely images into so few syllables!
Your personification is delightful. I love “tiptoes” as your second line and how the world exhales in the final line.
Leilya,
Lovely personification of spring. All the action verbs emphasize how we experience spring and how spring makes her way into our worlds. Beautiful line: “The world exhales in petals, light, and song.”
Leilya, your gorgeous poem celebrates the cherry tree blossoms beautifully. I love the clever personification and your amazing word choices to bring these beautiful blooms to life. Your final line is like a triumphant cry, and I adored the lines:
The cherry limbs, brushing blossoms
Into bunches of pure angel-white–
Brilliant poem full of joyful spring.
Spring tiptoeing and scattering her magic with drizzles and brushing is such a rich image here, this blossoming of springtime in your etheree today. I love the coloring that I see.
Oh, the cherry tree blossoms sound so beautiful! I love the look of your poem, as you balance out all the lines. “Drizzle pale milk drops across / the cherry limbs” is such a lovely metaphor.
Good Morning, Larin. Ah, the midwest tornado whistling and early April blooms. Thanks for today’s prompt. Needed to scribble early this morning as I have a few 14-hour days in a row. Onward (and yes, I woke up with my annual head cold).
Rebirth
Throat-
scratching
sandpaper.
Throbbing-sphenoid.
Pressurized concrete
dripping nasal milk-juice.
Bodhráns & Bongos battle
vestibular nerves, eardrums.
lacrimal sacs, waterfall leak…
heavy mucus, acute bronchitis.
Blueskies, sunshine. Pollinated sandstorms.
Bryan, so sorry you have a head cold. “Throat-scratching sandpaper” sounds so rough. All these symptoms are terrible when you can rest at home, but when you have 14 hour days, it’s exhausting. Hang in there and get well soon!
I like the sound effects of alliteration and consonance that help build up the tension.
A very different rendition of spring with wonderful words and full syllables. Love your writing, Bryan. I am suffering for beauty too!
Achoo! Spring has me in my allergies, too! I felt empathetically itchy with you while I read your poem. Love it!
Oh, no, Bryan! “[A] few 14-hour work days in a row” are not gonna help, btw!) I love (and am grossed out by, lol) the lines: “Pressurized concrete / dripping nasal milk-juice.” I hope you can get some relief soon!
Larin, I wrote a comment and it seems to have disappeared. We are at opposite ends of the teaching profession. All my best for a long and satisfying career. I have 4 weeks left.
Time
reflects
a long life
of commitment
not only to teach
but to nurture children
hold them with loving kindness
allow a safe space for growing.
Retire is a bold, yet daunting word.
One door closes. Will another open?
Margaret, yes, it will. You may not know it yet, but there will always be a new beginning. I know how you love “to nurture children / hold them with loving kindness / allow a safe space for growing.” You must have touched thousands of little lives throughout these years. They were so lucky to have you!
Happy retirement, Margaret. I hope to go 4 more years. We will see. I love your poem and will keep it with me. Definitely door after door will open for you!
I’m sure so many doors will open for you and you may find yourself having with much choice for what to do. That’s just what it seems like! All the best with your retirement. Also, I wanted to say I loved your prompt and poem about sitting at the table with an emotion. I read your poem many times and I commented on a lot of poems that day although I did not write. I wanted to, someday I will come back to it, but I think it was a better use of my time reading the poems I did and commenting than trying to write my own. They were all so beautiful and powerful! Anyway, just wanted to let you know.
Larin, Thanks for this prompt today. Syllable counting is a puzzle for poem making. Your poem appeals to all the senses. I couldn’t help but notice that we are on the two opposite ends of a long teaching career.
Time
reflects
a long life
of commitment,
not only to teach,
but to raise up children
hold them with loving kindness,
allow a safe space for growing.
Retire is a bold, yet daunting word.
One door closes. Will another open?
I love your ending question, Margaret. I can answer it- it will! I especially like how you “raise up children/ hold them with love and kindness.” You will love retirement!
Margaret, I can see it: a desk by a window, a computer, a cup of tea…..and you, writing. Yes, many doors will open!
Margaret, thank you for your kind words. Thank you also for this poem as it shows the loving work you have put into your career and your wondering about what the future will hold. What a beautiful homage to seasons of life…
Yes! Margaret another door will open … right here in Ethical ELA. See how many of us have had poems written here published! And with publishing come opportunities to be interviewed and teach online. Won’t even have to,leave home…till NCTE each year!
Larin, I love a syllable counting poem! You embrace spring and all that it brings. I am ready for those trails and all the discoveries along the way. Way to go on getting to the end of your first school year! What an accomplishment. Let your heart rest and your feet find new trails this summer so that you can bring all that energy back again next year.
sprouts
emerge.
pacify.
an offering
birthed by goddesses.
sacrificed for no one.
delivered into the world.
nature’s way of tending spaces
left empty, filling holes, mending souls.
we arise, unified in hope. it’s time.
Love love lines 8-9, so pretty and healing about a new season. Thanks for sharing this image.
I’m testing out my comments.
I love this idea of spring as an offering mending our souls with hope.
Jennifer, every time I read your poem, I am in awe of your way with words. These lines are so beautiful and profound:
“an offering
birthed by goddesses.
sacrificed for no one.”
The final line is so poignant and offers hope in unity and action. Thank you!
You had me at sprouts. I love to think of things sprouting – – plants, buds, edible salad additions, little children – – all of the things just starting out. This rendering of the springtime with the growing and greening, the mending and unifying – – yes, it is time! It’s time for hope to emerge, to sprout anew. To bloom and grow.
A powerful ode to spring, Larin, with all the beauty and forces of nature. I love the ending words on newness and life. They breathe hope. I felt like I wanted to write about being on the cusp of summer and freedom (rejoice!) but this is where I landed instead. Thank you so much for the invitation and inspiration today – I do love an etheree!
Only Now
Now.
A breath.
In, then out.
Time never stops.
Time only stops us.
The song that would be sung
The words that would be written
The wellspring of love for giving
The transformation by forgiving
are born in this moment, this breath, this Now.
“Time only stops us.” How fascinating…it’s our life’s work to work with that, isn’t it?
I love the 9th line, so pretty. A beautiful time poem. Thanks for sharing.
“The wellspring of love for giving” sparks a warmth in my heart. That is what this community of writers does and is, a breath of Now.
Fran, you’ve spoken the words of wisdom here. “Time only stops us” – a striking truth. “The Transformation by forgiving” – another gem. I like how you take us through the present moment of “Now” with imagery and symbolism. I also noticed the beauty, consistence, and the stronghold of your poem in lines 4 through 9 with a capital “T.” To me, it acts as a sort of stop signal to slow down and embrace “Now.” Gorgeous poem!
Love the rhythm of this, Fran. And you last word – Now!
Fran, your poem shares the magnificent importance of being present. I enjoyed how you crafted this poem and show how time never stops but it does stop us. Let us hope that more will understand the power of love and the way forgiveness can transform. Your final line is perfectly delivered. ‘this breath, this Now.” resonates! Powerful poem!
Wow, Fran…..that time only stops us is powerful here….yes, it does. I love the now feeling of the poem and the apt title that captures the moment. There is a sense of welcome urgency to handle the business of life and living before time stops us….or them….or the moment. It also raises the question of what all hasn’t happened that could have, speaking to missed opportunities.
I’ve enjoyed the syllable work with students, that always surprise me! It’s easier than the first thing. And fun, too. Thanks for bringing another etheree to the table. In my poetry season.
unique seasons
How unnatural to think we share the
same seasons at the same exact time.
Just as the hemispheres of Earth,
can’t all share Summer in June,
two friends in their thirties
experience needs
and desires
at their own
pace of
life.
One
by one,
these old friends
become wives and
mothers and flip the
calendar page faster,
reaching out infrequently,
and less empathetically
because you just “wouldn’t understand”
their December from your calendar’s March.
What comes to mind as i read your words is “honoring” – as in, the seasons of life, and individuals being different, in their own different seasons – as well as the loss in “you wouldn’t understand.” Yet…in time, hopefully not too much…understanding comes. Such a true capturing of life.
The genius of this poem is that transition, “One/by one,” That’s so good. It takes the idea from the first etheree to the reader’s specific experience. Love that.
This poem took a surprising turn. We are all on different hemispheres at some points in our lives. “Their December to your March” is a great way to express that.
what a though-provoking poem, C.O.! It seems we all know even close friends may have different “seasons” going one, by your poem illustrates this so eloquently “because you just “wouldn’t understand” / their December from your calendar’s March.” Thank you!
Ooh! I love the way you inverted the second stanza! The way you set them apart helped me see the newfound distance between friends and the sadness that accompanies such separation. Powerful and brilliant!
You’ve reminded me that our calendar is a western construct. And that reminds me of the inherent truth in your poem. The sad reality is we one size fits all the planet and her people. This is not the way of Native cultures. I don’t know what grade you teach, but if it’s high school you could share this w/ students and have a lively discussion about how they’ve experienced this standardization of time and seasons.
Larin, what a beautiful name. Congratulations on your first year of teaching! It’s such a special time. Even though it feels tough…it’s such a kick to get through it and then learn from the experience. Those hopping bunnies have stolen my heart.
I don’t know why I was drawn to winter. I do love the stark honesty of that season.
It’s
winter.
Now gray finds
a way along
what was once vibrant.
The young have grown sturdy
defying what ice knows best…
heat rises and is distracted
cold seeks every seam, joint and limb
claiming bounty for all that was alive
Whoa, Linda – such power here in “defying what ice knows best” and “Claiming bounty for all that was alive” – brr!! I cannot help but shiver! Part of it is with awe, however
Linda, the cold you describe, seeking every seam, joint, limb, so aptly describes what I fight against in those dark months. Once it seeps in, it’s so very hard to get rid of. I am envisioning that gray, finding its way. Despite my resistance to winter, your poem soothes and reminds me that I am drawn to it as well.
In winter, especially this year, cold claims bounty. Now it’s heat’s turn. I have lots of things sprouting back to life. Whew! Winter has left a scar for sure.
Linda, that line “defying what ice knows best…” is haunting, especially when you leave it hanging with ellipses. Thank you for making me think about it this morning!
Linda, I love the winter…..yes, the stark honesty of it. I like the hygge comforts of it – – can’t appreciate the warmth without the raging cold. The coffee is better, the books are better, the blankets are softer, the snug is snugglier in winter.
too soon for crisis?
here
we go
another
four years of Trump
this time I am almost
forty, feeling too much
change, my body, America
there is flattening with fascism
my breasts are not as firm as they were
my faith, too, falls, fails, flails more every day
That’s the thing about crisis…it sets the time and pace. Oooof do I feel this. “flattening with facism” is powerful.
Kasey, I love what you’ve done here with the world and the body feeling the change and seeing the uncomfortable shifts……that last line with the f words of alliteration are understood for sure. Cleverly done.
Kasey, I can feel that slump, see the sagging (reflected in the shape of your etheree). I’m struck by the f’s in the last line (while thinking of some of my own-ha!). The floundering of faith feels more intense in the falling, failing, flailing, as if it has been knocked down and the struggle is just too great. Hugs.
Kasey,
moment w/ this admin, and I’m feeling your openings lines. It’s as though we are a nation suffering battered wife syndrome and so many chose to return to the abuser. Yes, “there is flattening w/ fascism.” Perfect to connect this to your own body since fascism flattens our souls
Every day is a new
*Side Note: If you haven’t done so already, add a line to the poem I shared yesterday.
Kacey, that final line with alliteration “my faith, too, falls, fails, flails more every day” is heartbreaking. I don’t know how the world will survive this four years, not just this country. Let’s hold onto hope, but honestly, we need a miracle. Thank you for sharing!
Kasey, that last line is so powerful. So alliterative, so tragically true for so many of us.
Kasey, I could not agree more with your sentiments which have me feeling both depressed but laughing, too, as you describe the “flattening”. Your final line that focuses on faith resonates. Your title is perfect. I constantly hear alarm bells being set off in my head. Brilliant poem!
Kasey,
Bravo!!! Love the alliteration but sorry that we all feel all those “f” words!
Somehow we will make it through.
Larin, thank you for hosting us today! Your springtime etheree’s final line as a reminder of all the new life that happens in spring makes me pause and think of the moments checking the hydrangea and the figs for new growth. All those spring things ~Indian paintbrush, bunnies, dresses, rain, and….even tornadoes….scream springtime! know everyone is tired of winter, but here in Georgia it only takes a couple of days of the heat to be ready for winter again, and I’m already over the heat that hasn’t fully bloomed. Bring on the cold!
Winter Chill
wintertime snowdrifts on the windowpanes
thick quilts piled high on a soft king bed
schnoodles snoozing by the fireplace
six books stacked under the lamp
cabin socks snug on feet
plush fleece pajamas
a day off work ~
I’ll take my
chai tea
hot. I left off my last word.
ooooh! winter appealed to me this morning, too. I love the coziness of this day off of work.
What a cozy poem that reminds us that even winter has its incredible life affirming gifts if we choose joy and comfort. Thank you!
So very cozy, Kim – as much as I am longing for summer vacation at this moment, I would absolutely take the pure comforts of this scene you have depicted. -Pass me the hot chai!!
Kim, each line of your poem is like a blanket being wrapped around me, drawing closer and settling me in until I reach that very perfect space, completely cozied in, snug and secure, absolutely content, right down to the last syllable. I could feel the nestling as I read (the nesting!). And I cannot pick a most comforting line–every time I think yes, that’s the one, the next one sounds even better!
Kim, that is my fairy-tale perfect winter picture. It brings so much comfort. Hiding in a warm cabin with books, socks, fleece pajamas, hot chai, and a day off – friend, where did you find that paradise?
Oh, Kim, such a beauty. From “Winter Chill” to the “hot” of your chai tea. I can just picture you on the funny farm with all those delights to keep you warm, and “a day off work” is a perfect time to enjoy a winter day.
Omgggg yes, please
Everything about your poem is inviting. The soft snow, quilts and bed beside schnoodles snoozing is picture perfect. I had to smile by the end when you ask for the chai tea. I just want to fall into all that beautiful comfort.
Kim,
I do hope you’re not in the middle of a “Winter Chill.” The alliteration in “schnoodles snoozing” is a familiar sight and sound. This poem is such a cozy scene. I love watching snow fall as I look out my front room window—in December!
Hi Kim,
Love that you get to look forward to winter’s cooler weather. I can only imagine the unbearable heat you have in summer. I think your subconscious said leave out “hot” so you can stay cool.