Our Host: Leilya Pitre
Leilya lives in Ponchatoula, LA, a small town celebrated for its strawberries. She teaches and coordinates the English Education Program at Southeastern Louisiana University. She strives to prepare caring, competent, and effective teachers. An editor and contributing author of Where Stars Meet People: Teaching and Writing Poetry in Conversation and one of the curators of Dr. Bickmore’s YA Wednesday Weekend Picks, Leilya loves people, cultures, and their rich traditions. She reads, writes, listens to music, visits her children and grandchildren, or travels with her husband.
Inspiration
I am fascinated with short poetry forms because each word in them counts and makes me wonder what’s hidden behind the concise language. When Anna Akhmatova wrote her poem in 1910 in Kyiv, she did not define or explain its structure or form.
He loved three things alone:
White peacocks, evensong,
Old maps of America.
He hated children crying,
And raspberry jam with his tea,
And womanish hysteria.
… And he married me.
Later, around the years of 1998 and 2000, an acclaimed Scottish poet, teacher, and mentor Roddy Lumsden (1966-2020) used this poem as a teaching exercise and called it a sevenling.
It is a seven-line poem consisting of three stanzas: two three-line stanzas and a concluding one-liner. Often, this kind of a poem explores contrasting, or opposing, ideas, concepts, images, or perspectives examining personal experiences, emotions, nature, social issues, and etc.
The distinguishing part of a sevenling is its surprise ending. This final line may provide a twist, a revelation, a lesson learned, or shift in perspective defying the reader’s expectations or assumptions.
Despite the structure and length of a sevenling poem, the form allows for creative freedom. Poets may experiment with word choices, imagery, rhythm, and rhyme.
Process
To write a sevenling poem:
- Think about two contrasting ideas, concepts, people, or events (e.g., good/evil, humor/satire, war/peace, light/darkness, optimist/pessimist, flowers/weeds, etc.)
- Write a three-line stanza containing three things about the first one (description or explanation)
- Write another three-line stanza containing three other things about the second word. You may oppose the first stanza to the second or try to find some commonalities.
- The final line should present a kind of a punchline, a surprise, or an unusual, even oxymoronic conclusion.
- Think if you need a title.
Leilya’s Poem
Choose Love
Love, full of hopeful dreams,
Healing, forgiving, unconditional,
Turns dark streaks into sunbeams.
Hate, a venomous seed,
Born of hurt, fear, and bitter touch,
Makes hearts bleed and scars to keep.
When love is nurtured, hate subsides.
In the secondary classroom, you may think about two opposing characters in a novel or story you are reading, or two different science, math, or historic concepts. For example, the following two poems are written in my Young Adult Literature course in response to the novels we read.
The first one is a sevenling based on a YA verse novel Me (Moth) by Amber McBride featuring its main characters, Moth and Sani:
Letting Go
Longing for home,
Hurt and broken,
Moth is always running.
Sani sketches the girl dancing,
Wants “to suffocate her sadness,”
Hoping together they will be okay,
Letting go is the hardest part.
The second poem presents three losses each of the three main characters faces in a YA novel I Have Lost My Way by Gayle Forman in the first stanza, followed by the thoughts of one of them who’s planning a suicide, but new friends rush to his rescue. Saving him, they save themselves:
Finding the Way
The voice is lost,
The love is vanished,
The father is gone.
The bridge is high,
The water’s fast,
My heart is pumping hard.
The friends are calling my name.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe. For suggestions on how to comment with care. See this graphic.
Oh, Leilya! Thank you for giving me permission to write a love poem to my husband tonight. We have, as of today, been married 40 years <3
April 5, 1984
As he said “I do”
I saw our sightless future quiver on his perfect lips
beneath the bluest eyes.
April 5, 2024
As he brushes past me in the kitchen
we sigh into the morning
drawing oxygen from incidental touch.
Leilya, thanks for the prompt and the message in your poem. Love is the key to neutralizing hate. Even if we give it and don’t get it back. We don’t carry the weight!
Thank you so much, Anna, for always writing and gifting us with your beautiful poems that are filled with sounds, images, words, rhythm, and so much more!
It’s always fun to try a new form of poetry, thank you for introducing this one to me! I think yesterday’s ecopoetry prompt seeped over to my sevenling a little bit, too 🙂
In the coldest of winters,
Ice encases 70, 80, 90% of waves
The fishes’ bones ache, faces hurt
Then temperature climbs and stays high,
Heat radiates from the parking lot
Sun warms my skin, makes me blush
The Great Lakes are home to many, to crazy, to me
Shelby, I’m just getting to responding to yesterday’s prompt and am glad to see yours here!
The Great Lakes are the “home” to which I returned and am just learning to appreciate. I grew up on the East side and now live on the West side. It’s like TWO COMPLETELY different places. Today, my husband and I are up in Traverse City and here we are reminded of San Diego beaches where we lived for nearly two decades.
Weird state; weirder country!
Thanks for sharing!
Hi, Shelby! I like when we are able to connect the prompts or carry over some thoughts from the previous one. I haven’t had a chance to experience the Great Lakes much, and from your poem it sounds like it’s a land of extremes.Thank you for writing and sharing!
Opportunities
6/20/23
Teaching is in my bones
It’s a lifestyle, not a career
It’s who I am
But the winds of change
Carry in distrust and stupidity
Forcing me to take a stand
Who will I be now?
Mo, I sense pain in your poem. Feeling lost after a career you loved and teaching you perfected over the years is a frightening, but reasonable reaction. Hope you find something enjoyable to do with your skills and creative talents. Hugs 🤗
Mo, keep being YOU! Our world, our families, and our students need valiant, stalwart educators who trust themselves to stand up for right, regardless of the fight, who don’t take flight but stay be the light.
You and other educators facing these changes are in my prayers.
Thank you for the prompt, I like having rules to work within. The line from your poem “Born of hurt, fear, and bitter touch” tells me that hate is not the starting point but comes from our actions. I’m sorry to add my entry so late in the day, it was a busy one.
chewed and crooked
scraped and calloused
like an old leather mitt
flecks of frecks
thin and delicate
with the weakest grip
we walk hand in hand
Hi, Mike! Yes, unfortunately people learn hate. Your poem, on the other hand, is full of love. You paint a beautiful picture of an elderly couple who “walk hand in hand” through life knowing each other’s strength and weaknesses. Love the words and sounds in the second stanza: “flecks of frecks / thin and delicate / with the weakest grip.” Just a beautiful image! Thank you for sharing.
Mike, I feel like you are speaking to me! Lately I’ve been looking at my hands a lot, wondering when they became my mother’s. Your poem is lovely.
Michael,
Your poem captures a tender moment and I love the rich images evoked in so few words. I bet this couple can read each other’s thoughts as they walk hand in hand.
Beautiful!
Wishing for More
Watching for the seagull
Could have been quite dull
If it weren’t for the waves across the hull
How disappointing not to see more!
But the joy of the kids tipping out from the shore
The bay so firm, liking walking on the floor
Splashing and sputtering instead of fluttering.
Hi, Anna! I can see that shore with seagulls, waves, and kids playing around. The rhyming works so well with the message. The ending /l/ sounds add musicality to the poem. Love it!
Beautiful imagery, Anna. This is a lovely snapshot.
I love the idea of the bay being firm. The imagery in this poem reminds me of a coastal oil painting 🙂
Leilya, Thank you so much for this new (to me) form! I almost stuck to it but needed an eighth line to bring my thought home! Let’s call it an Eightling! <3
Marriage
To him, spontaneity is recklessness:
an invitation to chaos, unknown
sinkholes and god’s heavy fist.
To me, yes must be the final answer:
whirling possibilities
spiraling into realms of joy.
His rudder steadies my sails.
My sails move our boat.
Allison, thank you for this poem about marriage. So much resonated with me in the contrasting ways of being that propel a life together. “Whirling possibilities” –yes.
Hi, Allison! Thank you for making it. I know some days are overpacked with things. I love your poem about marriage. It is so true that each partner brings some unique sides to it. “Unknown sinkholes” create “whirling possibilities” for you removing scares and “spiraling into realms of joy.” The final two lines seal the message. Yes, eightling works great 😊
I can see why you needed that 8th line, Allison. I love that you seem to enjoy breaking “the rules.” Your poem resonates with me, as I am married to a science guy. I’m not even sure I can explain what he does for a living most of the time!
How sweet, Allison! If anyone needs the recipe for lasting love in a relationship, your poem is it! 🥰🥰🥰
I love how the metaphor at the end wraps up the poem so easily! I also love the line, “sinkholes and god’s heavy fist.” It makes me think of god punching sinkholes into the Earth in the false name of spontaneity, which makes me smile.
Leilya,
Sorry, I’m getting to this really late to night.
I really enjoyed how you used the Sevenling poem to demonstrate contrast between literary characters, especially the way you captured the characters in Me Moth (loved this book!). Your last line “Letting go is the hardest part” — really packs a bunch!
This Old House
This old house creaks and groans & boy do the floorboards moan.
Sink faucet keeps dripping & the deck is chipping.
The to-do list just keeps on growing and growing.
But the living room is just right.
Truly awesome for family movie night.
Kick back with some popcorn.
This old home is worn from love and laughter.
Tammi,
I love how your first two stanzas show the contrast between the physical structure of your house and the love of your home. And, then your final line pulls it all together!
Hi, Tammi! No worries, we all have lives to live, but I am so glad you made a stop in this space today. Your poem is just right for the end of the day to feel “this old home” that is “worn from love and laughter.”
I love the imagery in the first stanza showing how old the house is and how many repairs it needs. The internal rhymes of “groans – moan” and “dripping – chipping” intensify the descriptions. Thank you for your words today!
Tammi,
I really appreciate how you clearly show that it isn’t the structure that makes a home–it is the love within Beautiful!
Tammi, This is such an honest love poem to your old house/home! Thank you for weaving in the rhyme. “Worn” is a warm and fitting word.
I agree, I really liked using the Sevenling to contrast between literary characters. Putting that into my back pocket for sure.
I love an old house but right now I have a landlord to do its bidding. I also really like the image of family life that you’ve created here, especially when it truly comes together in the last line. You’ve made me realize that old houses and family always go together in my mind–thank you 🙂
Leilya, I really like your example poem, may the sentiment be sent to hearts the world over!
My poem was inspired by the events of the last few weeks (and a number of years leading up to now).
Two weeks ago, my youngest son
graduated from high school and has been
flexing his “adultness” ever since.
I spent today moving my older son into
his new house for his senior year of college–
before he spends another summer fighting fires.
How can it be possible I nearly have an empty nest?
Hi, Cara! Yes, they grow so fast. I also understand your youngest”flexing his ” adultness.” Haven’t we all done that? Hope your sons will call you often and check in often. Thank you for your poem!
Cara — I can relate. I have two children moved out and only one left at home (junior in HS). We just started our college tours this summer and I’m already feeling weepy.
Oh, Cara! This is such a poignant message, driven home by one son “flexing” and the other fighting fires.
I was asked to write about Empty Nest during a time my nest was overflowing. I’m now grateful for that assignment because it helped me think about EN long before it descended!
Our nest has been (quasi)empty for ten years now. We are thriving. We are also traveling a LOT to see our children. 🙂
https://the-medical-dictionary.com/usher_syndrome_article_3.htm
Your poem took me back to strong feelings and memories. Thank you.
Cara, wow! Doesn’t it go soooo fast? I love the little snippets you shared to help us get to know these aspects of your sons. That last question is perfect!
Cara, I’m glad that you have poetry to help sort through these feelings. Your children are lucky to have you as their mom!
Leilya, your poem sparked some inspiration for me. I lifted your word “sunbeams” and plopped it into my own. I hope you don’t mind! I loved the message of your sevenling. It’s been raining and sunshine-y off and on all day, so I went off that contradiction. Thank you for the invitation!
Capricious Gifts
Sunbeams energize and feed
plants and trees and animals and weeds.
They kiss my pale skin, leaving a gentle gleam.
Raindrops nurture crops
with every glop and plop, and flop.
They share a little music bop, drumming atop the shop.
It was sunny when the day began, and now the rain has changed my plans!
Rachelle, I loved your rhyming throughout from “feed” to “weeds” to “crops” and “flop” and “bop” and “shop” to “began” and “plans.” This was fun to read out loud. Thank you for this!
Don’t mind at all! I like how you used sunbeams and raindrops as opposites that are equally needed.
in your second stanza, I love the sound effects with [r] sound in the first line, and then consonance with [l] and [p] in the second and third lines. This trick turns raindrops into fun, not a disaster, even if you have to change plans. Your poem’s title is perfect, and the entire poem cheered me up. Thank you!
Rachelle,
I love how you perfectly captured our weather today–rain, sun, rain, sun, hail!! It was a very typical Northwest day and I can hear the music of the weather in your poem. Your rhythm is spot on!
Rachelle,
I absolutely love this line — “They share a little music bop, drumming atop the shop.” It reminds me of Dr. Suess. Your whole poem made me smile!
Oh, Rachelle! I love the contrast you explored here! Your use of rhyme gave unity to the stanzas. Wow! I loved it! (And now, I revisit your title and extend additional applause!)
Thank you for hosting today Leilya. I appreciate the mentor poems you made available. The sevenling is something I need to try more often.
Love…”Turns dark streaks into sunbeams.”, a glimmer of light in a world of darkness.
The last line of your poem, “When love is nurtured, hate subsides.” gives me hope. Because we should always choose love. Here’s my poem. Akhmatova’s final line “…And he married me” sparked my poem’s topic today. I couldn’t think of a better contrast than my husband and I.
Cameron/Jessica
Cameron, a goofy nerd, comic book enthusiast, old-school console gamer.
Logical-mathematical brain, free-handed drawer of superheroes, a charmer.
A fuddy-dud, emotional bear, gives best hugs.
Jessica, a sophisticated soul, book nerd, hates to lose at games so doesn’t play.
Once-shy introvert forced to exist in the world, eloquent poet, a humble mesmerizer.
A loner, apathetic butterfly, gives great exasperations.
The best opposites.
Jessica, thank you for sharing your poem with us today. I love learning about everyone’s lives outside of Ethical ELA. You and I have many commonalities. My fiance, Sam, is also has a very “logical-mathematical brain”. Opposites must attract, right?
Yay, you did it, Jessica! I was just thinking this morning that I’d ask my grandkids to write three-liners about each other, so she and he could describe each other, and then we would together come up with a final line. I imagined to structure it exactly the way you did with Cameron and yourself.
I love how you create this “perfect opposition” in various categories:
“a goofy nerd” vs. “a sophisticated soul”
“comic book enthusiast” vs. “book nerd”
“old-school console gamer” vs. someone who “hates to lose at games so doesn’t play.”
The final line is warm and inviting. This is a good kind of opposition. Thank you so much for writing today too!
Jessica — I laughed out loud to “hates to lose at games so doesn’t play.” I’m guilty of that as well. Only pick the games I can win.
“The best opposites” — what a great line!
Jessica. Love getting to know you and your love better through this poem. “Fuddy-dud” is a great word and yes to “humble mesmerizer” and “loner…butterly”.
Thank you, Leilya for introducing me to sevenlings. Here is the product of my playing.
I hold my breath,
Shoulders tense,
Every muscle tightens.
I breathe out,
I focus on the flowers,
The promise of June.
I find my beginner’s mind and relax.
Joanne, there is so much tension (and release) packed into this compact little poem. It makes me think about my attempts at mindfulness. I love the line “focus on the flowers”. It sounds euphonious and evokes such beautiful imagery.
Hi, Joanne! You turned this form into a meditation exercise. How smart! I like it. I especially like the “breathing out” part that allows for relaxation and noticing the beauty around you.
The final line is what most of us need at this time: “I find my beginner’s mind and relax.”
Thank you for such a healthy approach to today’s poetry prompt!
Joanne, I’m with Leilya here: I love the meditative nature of your verse and that “beginner’s mind” is everything! Thank you for writing and sharing today!
Joanne –. I attend a yoga class once a week in the park and your poem captures the relaxing and meditative state of being present in nature perfectly.
You capture breathwork so beautifully, Joanne.
Joanne,
I am SO with your mindset right now. It takes a beat or three for me to get back to balance and calm after the craziness of the end of the year. May we both find our peace!
Joanne, I’ve read this several times now, and as the others have said, it captures breathing so well. The short lines just flow perfectly. You found the perfect contrasts with in/out and tense/relax.
Joanne, have you been peeking through my windows? You captured my morning meditation to the T! But always, I remember the “beginner’s mind and relax.”
🧘🏽♀️⚖️☮️
I hope no one minds that I conjured up two today. I need the practice. Thank you Leilya for your prompt. I love a new form.
Friends
Skipping happily
talking consistently
with people, lovingly.
Walking gloomingly
mouth turned downwardly
eyes cast introvertedly.
They became best friends.
Noise
Ocean waves rumble
like distant repetitive thunder
sand swooshes under the current.
Skies vibrate with earsplitting noise
from shirling helicopter blades
soaring along the coastline.
Both bringing diametric peace.
oops…somehow this changed. Should be Whirling not Shirling in the second poem.
Hi, Susan! We don’t mind indeed – there is never too much poetry at this place. In the first poem, I like “an opposites attract” vibe.
The second one gifts us with with a beautiful imagery. I like the typo-ed “shirling” as well. It creates a sound effect that swirling blades make. The final line seals up the message of “diametric peace.” Thank you so much for sharing!
Susan, the last lines for both of your poems are fantastic ways to clinch the reader. I found myself looking back at the opposing stanzas and re-reading them to see how the final line changed my perception of them. I loved the auditory imagery “ocean waves rumble”
Susan — When I first read your second poem, the idea of noise bringing peace seemed startling but when I delved into your poem again and let the words “sand swooshes under the current” and “whirling helicopter blades” wash over me, I actually could hear and feel how both sounds bring “diametric peace.” A perfectly apt twist.
Thank you for your comments, Tammi. I was thinking that the helicopters are bringing peace because they are military. I guess I should somehow make that more clear in my poem. Love this feedback.
Leilya, it is remarkable how challenging it is to write seven lines! Thank you for this prompt.
did I say the wrong thing?
we had a friendly conversation
sharing ideas, back and forth,
affirming one another
I shared one thing more and
they froze on the spot, no reply,
simply staring right through me
. . . just another technical glitch on Zoom
Maureen,
I love this . . . it misleads us (I think??) to the belief that this is an awkward or even offensive social interaction and then that last brilliant line reveals it’s all about a frozen Zoom screen.
Classic . . . assuming I am interpreting it correctly.
Yes, this is exactly what happened – but I did fear I had misspoken, at first. I could not think of any topic for this sevenling and went with something that had just occurred, lol.
Maureen, thank goodness for the possibility of mute. It keeps me out of all kinds of trouble. The last line twist here is such a saving grace for tech and not the words being the problem.
Maureen, I thought you were preparing me for some drama, and your final line made me smile )) How often we read too much into something when in reality it’s just some kind of a glitch. Such a masterful sevenling! THank you.
Your ending made me laugh. I have had something happen to a friendship years ago. we were talking on the phone. I shared one more thing and she froze on the conversation and told me to have a nice life. I haven’t heard from her since.
Your ending is funny and not so severe.
Maureen,
You tricked us! I did not expect a Zoom fart. Very clever poem.
Oh, Maureen, what a humorous sevenling. I love how you completely drew me into your story and then revealed the truth of the situation. Loved it!
Maureen, what a sweet take on this form. Perfect twist at the end with a lol response from me over here sitting in my hotel! Well played!
Lightness/Darkness
God created light,
Stars emanate radiance,
Hospital rooms are too bright.
Darkness surrounds us,
Nocturnal is half the time,
Animals howl in the vastness.
Light shines brightest in the dark.
Hello Leilya,
I’ve discovered that I’m not very good at these types of poems, but thank you for the prompt and the opportunity!
I love the combinations of light and radiance, and darkness with vastness.
Maegan,
I was struck by the ideas of light and hospital rooms, and my interpretive lens went to babies being born. And then to the hurt in those rooms and how light can both be a comfort and a stressor. Then, the contrasting stanza brought me to a natural space away from the synthetic light and clinical way of being into the way night offers us a break from the light or stress, darkness as a vastness to scream to release like the animals. So much to consider in your words and images.
Thank you,
Sarah
Hi, Maegan! I think you did just great. I love the imagery, and the lines:
“Hospital rooms are too bright” and “Animals howl in the vastness.” made me pause to think about the meaning behind these phrases.
The final line gives me hope: “Light shines brightest in the dark.” Thank you fro writing and sharing!
Powerful poem, Maegan! The last line hits the soul!
Maegan, I like the oppositions you’ve crafted in your poem and the truth of your last line: “Light shines brightest in the dark.” Your “[h]ospital rooms are too bright” line is also spot-on. I have noticed, as well, that they can prove to be “too bright” at times. Thank you for writing and sharing today!
Oh, Maegan, that’s certainly not true. I love any poem that uses the concepts of light and dark, and you do so very effectively. Those dang hospital rooms are certainly too bright.
Gendered Raptors
She detected remains
from four miles away
on the open plains.
He perched on a post
watched the road for
Chevy-flipped flesh.
I wondered when I’d be their prey.
Note: I see this raptor every day on my morning walk, which is on a road with lots of trucks and, sadly, lots of roadkill. I found an owl today, ugh. So sad.
Whoa! That last line – I got a chill down my neck. Great photo!
Yiiiiiiikes! 😱😱😱😱😱
Sarah, you crafted this sevenling perfectly!
Sarah, the Chevy-flipped flesh creates that kind of imagery that you can’t just drive by without looking at the fate of the poor victim. That last line is quite the tingling sevenling! More and more roadkill, yes, it seems, these days. I agree.
That last line…
I hope never, Sarah! That’s a scary thought in itself. I like your choice of verbs that makes these raptors sound intelligent.
You got me thinking about raptors now. We see quite a few around here too; they terrorize our neighborhood squirrels. Thank you for writing and sharing your poem and this wonderful photo!
Ooh! Your ending of wondering when you would be its prey is frightening. These huge birds are frightening enough but a necessary evil. Sad that there is so much road kill. Saw a beautiful racoon on the highway today.
Thanks, Susan. I was also thinking about all the raptors circling around educators. I am going up for tenure this year and fear there are a couple 👀
Sarah,
”Chevy-flipped flesh” is such a gruesome image. We saw a kitty on the road yesterday. Heartbreaking. Perish thoughts in that last line, although it’s something I think about when cycling country roads. There’s danger around every curve. That picture gives me Hitchcock vibes!
I have experienced this too. I have named my vultures Edgar and Poe!
Sarah, wow, what a photo and your line “Chevy-flipped flesh”‘ is sensational! Unfortunately, I also see a lot of roadkill. Ugh! But I love your poem!
“Chevy-flipped flesh” – that is my favorite new euphemism for roadkill. Wow! What an amazing story. I don’t want to comment on gender roles, but your poem sure made me wonder and smile! And that last line is spine-shivering! Well done.
The perfect body:
Flexible knees, strong bones,
and endless stamina.
The perfect mind:
Self love, regulation,
and priorities set straight.
… I medicate for both.
Jorri,
Love the subjects you selected for this sevenling. You had me pondering and deeply reflecting in the first into the next, and then the sharp final line made me first smile “I medicate for both” and then wince as I thought about my own. You packed a lot into this short verse.
Nice,
Sarah
Wonderful surprise ending! Very interesting juxtaposition of body and mind.
Jorri, you got me with the twist of your poem. I expected something else, but your “…I medicate for both” is stunning and makes me wonder how many people struggle to get mind and body in some balance. Hope it works for you. Best, Leilya
Great surprise, but not surprising. I am right there with you!
Hello Jorri, your poem made me laugh, possibly for the wrong reasons, who knows! If you were trying to communicate humor, well done! If you were trying to communicate a more serious issue, then I’m sorry my mind is twisted. Either way, I enjoyed the read!
Jorri, your final line is absolutely priceless. I agree that both body and mind need attending to in order to stay sane and healthy! Fantastic poem.
Jorri, such a powerful final line. You really captured the sevenling twist. “The perfect…” says so much about our society and what is expected.
A Perplexing, Confounding Truth
Take heed, young teachers, bringing a favorite
poem, short story, or novel into the classroom
can have disastrous effects for
a novel in the wild is a free thing, bright and
beautiful, unfettered, and although hope is the thing
with feathers, a caged book cannot fly
so ask not for whom the caged book sings,
if you offer your favorite text to your students,
it’ll sing for thee.
_______________________________________________________________
Leilya, thank you for today’s mentor poems and your prompt! I can definitely see using this in my classroom (as you did, exploring different characters in whatever current text we’re reading). In terms of my “offering,” I’m a bit torn. Obviously not a sevenling (a nineling, maybe? 🙂 ), but I tried to keep true to the spirit of your prompt. I wanted to simply convey the truth that once you “assign” a wonderful/earth-shattering/heart-breaking/monumentallysignificant book to your students, some of them – maybe even many of them – will go, “meh, it’s just ok.” (Damning it with faint praise, if you’re lucky.) While I think I accomplished that, I’m not keen on my Angelou allusion at the end. The Dickinson and Donne ones I like (and cultivated), but I just “fell into” the Angelou one, and I don’t want it to seem like I’m “co-opting” her serious struggle to my silly one, especially on Juneteenth of all days! (And now, of course, I realize that it’s never a good sign when the “explanation” of the poem is longer than the poem itself!)
Scott,
I like the contrast you created with “ask not-” and then it going in a positive direction, as opposed to Donne’s poem…For the kids it may be a lightbulb instead of a bell.
“a novel in the wild is a free thing” – love the idea of students as ‘the wild’…
Scott, I celebrate your nineling today – thank you! The explanation is also valuable and enjoyable.
So many times we do what you describe here – bring our favorite book and make it a mandatory reading. It loses under such a circumstance. I love the idea in these lines:
“a novel in the wild is a free thing, bright and
beautiful, unfettered, and although hope is the thing
with feathers.”
I like the Dickinson vibe in your poem too, and I think I understood it the way you intended.
Oh I just enjoy you wild mind and imaginative poetry! Thank you!
Leilya,
Very excited to try this new form and your examples are inspirational! I find myself today at the Furious Flower poetry center to do some curriculum work this week, so furious flowering (and teaching) is very much in my mind on this Juneteenth.
Emancipation Day (or yet another chance to get it right)
Furious flower burst in white and red and blue
Big like Texas–eclipsing the flag
National holiday now, didya know?
States race to erase, Bd of Ed meeting at 7
fact fiction friction fraction faction action?
How deep does one dare wade into these waters?
Freedom is shackled to past that pulls toward abyss.
Dave….fact fiction friction fraction faction action
NICE! The series of words that are similar really makes the political mumbo jumbo bunkum come to life, whatever capital it is being used at. I’d guess the ending make sense in context, like humanity is morphing into lemmings.
Dave,
What power this line has:
fact fiction friction fraction faction action?
So thought-provoking.
And that final line . . . wow.
“Freedom is shackled to past that pulls toward abyss.” – excellent last line!
Hi, Dave! I’ve enjoyed every word in your poem – so many great lines that could be poems standing alone. As others, I love the alliteration with [f] sound in “fact fiction friction fraction faction action?” This question might be dangerous and bring unexpected answers for some: “How deep does one dare wade into these waters?”
The final punchline is profoundly powerful here. Thank you for writing with us today!
Ooohh, Dave! I thought I loved the first stanza wording until that second one and I love it even more. The “fact fiction friction fraction faction action” just nails it (and what a twister). Your last line is everything.
Dave, 🎤 drop!
There were a few of us today who wrote on the topic of Juneteenth! Love it! 🎆🎆🎆
Leilya, thank you so much for being here today. Thinking of you. You have given us rich mentor texts to be sure. I’m feeling the poignancy today of the ephemeral nature of birthdays and life! I’m just getting on the road again, so I’ll read and comment later today! Thanks!
Milo’s out with Mom and Dad
To celebrate his first birthday month
With a Build-a-Bear for $1
It is the same day my late
twin brother and sister
would have celebrated their 80th birthdays
Have I become the fleeting fiber to weave memories?
Denise,
This is beyond precious! Have fun celebrating Milo and your late twin siblings. 💙
Denise,
I love the shift in tone with the second stanza and the final line, it reads like the natural thought process one might have as they quietly observe such a birthday party, thinking about the nature of life. The phrase “weave memories” offers such a beautiful perspective to a possibly sad thought- that we will be gone someday. But the become something that has created memories is a powerful, almost prayerful thought.
I’m also sorry for your loss – losing siblings at any age would be so painful.
Thank you to writing today, Denise, despite your travel plans. Thank you for thinking about me too 🤗 Happy Birthday to Milo! Birthdays are such heartache triggers at times. Happy heavenly birthday to your twin siblings!
That final question certainly unifies the poem and gets to the crux of life . . . celebrating life and death often at the same time.
Denise, this image of ‘fleeting fiber’, weaving memories – so poignant.
Denise,
This “fleeting fiber” reads like such an understatement to me, to be the fleeting fiber who weaves memories sounds like magic, a gift, an honor and maybe sometimes a burden. To carry the thread that connects is quite the becoming that only exists with time.
And cheers to Milo!
Peace,
Sarah
Leilya, what a fun form to use today! I love how the YA novels inspired your poems. That would be a fun way to introduce or advertise books for students. Instead of writing book reviews, they could write a sevenling poem. I love it! Thank you for the chance to explore ideas for both me and for my students.
For those here who may not know the significance of this day, I thought I would share some history in my sevenling poem. Today is Juneteenth. Read more here if you’re so inclined or want to know about the history of this day.
Juneteenth
Freedom’s Eve, December 31,1863
Emancipation Proclamation declared freedom for enslaved Black people
But good news traveled slowly across america
Galveston, Texas, a safe-haven for slavery, was not free until June 19, 1865
250,000 enslaved people released from enslavers by executive decree
Juneteenth, Black people’s Jubilee Day, is now a federal holiday
What to the slave is the 4th of July, asked Frederick Douglas
©Stacey L. Joy, 6/19/23
Yes, yes, yes! You and Jennifer went the same route today with the Juneteenth holiday, and it is great that people know and remember to celebrate today. I wish I thought about it when I worked on a prompt. I like that your poem is so educational. The final question is punchlining here. Indeed, “What to the slave is the 4th of July?” Thank you for writing and sharing, Stacey!
So wonderful, Stacey! And a great history lesson!
Excellent history lesson! I am awed that you fit such rich learning into seven small lines.
Stacey,
Thank you for sharing the image alongside your poem. Your final line is like the fist in this image, a gut check to America that is without question. That you did not include punctuation, that you did not write that last line with a question mark says everything in that absence. Thank you.
Sarah
Stacey! Great minds and all 🙂 Your poem is so important and filled with history. I love that Frederick Douglas quote – it’s the perfect ending spot for your sevenling. I thought it was horrendous when I first learned that 2 years passed before enslaved people were free (my heart aches for those 250,000+) but then found out today that Maryland didn’t release them until the 13th amendment passed in December.
Uuuggghhhhh on Maryland.
Stacey, what a perfect poem to celebrate today. I love how you’ve captured the history of Juneteenth. Thank you!
Stacey, this is so beautiful. I love the graphic you created, as well. Thank you for the history lesson. “Black people’s Jubilee Day” Yes! I’m so glad it is a federal holiday now. A perfect opportunity for learning some history!
Leilya, I love your prompt and have always enjoyed the sevenling format. I’m struggling a bit to show the twist I want in this poem, but I hope readers will understand my overall message. I so appreciate your poem and your final line “When love is nurtured, hate subsides”.
Selfless Love
she longed for love
a family full of joy
married a wild man
who loved the party more than her
she raised her chicks
who flew the coop too soon
alone, she pampers herself
Barb Edler
19 June 2023
Barb–wow–we make the best of what we are given, don’t we? I resonate with the chicks flown too soon–and I am glad we can pamper ourselves…
Barb, your last line embodies the paradox of being a woman who must do so much for others and herself. I feel this poem deeply for both familiar and different reasons.,I saw a lot of women posting father’s day messages honoring women who do the work for men. Timely poem you’ve given us today. The absence of punctuation points to those unfulfilled promises, the happily ever after mythology. Love this poem.
Barb, such truth in this bubble bath – – I’m imagining the pampering in a soaking tub with feet up and a glass of wine for a fantastic party of one. I knew that man. One of my children wished ME a Happy Father’s Day yesterday. Wild man did not get that wish. And while it may seem sad, it’s a blessing, too. Thanks for the truth, and the reminder that there is a silver lining in everything.
Thank you for your poem, Barb! I am finding poems that connect in this space today. You and Glenda both consider the woman’s role and challenges. I can “hear” pain in this line: “who loved the party more than her” and then some more regret about “her chicks / who flew the coop too soon.” I would just say the speaker has all the rights to pamper herself. Your choice of words is as always full of care and meaning.
Barb,
I loved the oo-oo-oo use in the second stanza. That last line makes me feel a little like it is a matter of realization, her pampering herself. Anymore (for me as an older fart) it seems like the pampering is a task that falls on the individual in a more pragmatic sort of way. We learn to know it is easier to pamper ourselves than to wait for others to do so. It is a truth, but you touched on it in a fresh way, with it “contrasting” being alone.
Barb,
Ouch. We give and give and give and in the end we often end up alone. But, being able to pamper oneself shows a resiliency . . . a worthiness of being pampered.
Beautiful poem that many a woman can relate to.
That last line is one of resilience, strength, and fabulous sense!
Barb,
Thank you for this poem. I always want to trust the poet who begins with pain that they will offer the reader something to hold onto, and here you offer space for the reader (me) to cheer, to celebrate, to say “yes, girl” and also to hold space for the past that needs pampering. Isn’t that just it? You did it, Barb. You brought me to cheer and hold space for this she who married a wild man and pampers herself.
Peace,
Sarah
I appreciate the contrast between the title (Selfless Love) and the final line (she papers herself). Life is all balance, isn’t it? <3
Thank you for the prompt, Leilya. I get diamante vibes from this, but I think I like it more as sophistication goes. This would be fun to use as another way for the kids in class to explore figurative language. It can go in lots of different directions as far as learning opportunities are concerned.
NEARING THE END OF JUNE
Front yard snow-on-the-mountain
soon to die with the ratcheted summer heat,
seeding early in its nervousness.
Side yard purple irises by the juniper
a dominating fixture in the retaining wall elevated bed,
stupid crazy thriving in a varied light.
A plot change will do us all good.
Rex, your poem invites several contrasting images to explore from the “snow-on-the-mountain” to “the ratcheted summer heat”. I appreciate your closing line, and sure wish that plot change was a two day drizzle. Your poem reminds me of your photography with its “varied light”.
I agree with you, Rex; in the classroom, we can do so much with this form and adjust the task altering it to the learning needs. I could even teach the word classes (parts of speech with this form). In your poem, I love the imagery of the two landscapes you narrate. “A plot change will do us all good” is a wise and needed conclusion. Thank you for writing and sharing today!
Love the playful, varied meanings on “plot change”
Oh, hallelujah for the plot change! Yes, there are times when I wish I were holding the pen and had the omniscient narrator’s point of view. I’d change the plot, too. Love this twist.
Rex,
I love the specific language and images here: purple iris, juniper, seeding. Such grounding in a place, and yet that place can and does change even when we are not the ones weaving the plot.
Peace,
Sarah
Leilya–I love this form and the applications it offers! I struggled for a topic, and my struggle became the topic. The contrast in your poem was heartfelt and so true–love does win…
Poetry
There are days
when ideas flow in a swift stream, pleading
to be plucked from the ripples.
There are days
when ideas fall on arid ground
and refuse to bear fruit.
There will be no fruit today, my friends.
GJSands 6/19/23
Gayle! Terrific choice! It’s perfect! Speaks to me as if it were meant only for me to read. Thank you, Gayle.
💜
Oh, Gayle, I had a good laugh once I read your final line. I feel that pain of wanting to provide the fruit but feeling at a complete loss. Your poem is completely relatable and full of fruit, too.
Gayle, this poem is a fruit! It is thoughtful and ripe 😊 I do relate to struggles as well because I find myself searching for ideas too. Recently, I adopted a concept of productive struggle, and it helps moving on with tasks sometimes. Thank you for sharing!
Gayle, there is definitely fruit!
Ah, Gayle – there was fruit! And I wrestled with these seven lines so hard – your clever poem worked this prompt so well.
Gayle, there are some fruitless days, but this isn’t one of them. Your perceived lack of fruit is a bite of sweet healthiness for all of us – – the shared feeling of the lack of inspiration is every bit as tasty as a plump strawberry or a sweet pineapple. Great twist of a lime. Ooops – twist of a line.
Gayle, I loved this! I feel like you wrote the second verse for me because that’s basically me all of the time when in regards to poetry. And I loved the ending, I think this poem beautifully sums up my attempts with this very poem, thank you for the unintended validation!
Gayle, I feel my ideas fall on arid ground every day! Thanks for making me feel that others have these days as well. Love the phrase “plucked from the ripples.”
Leilya,
You have crafted such a rich inspiration for us, complete with some perfect applications to the classroom. I was able to quickly spit out a handful of sevenlings and even wrote a longer, unified poem consisting of three sevenlings (as you all know, I struggle with economy). I hope to write one today that has more of a figurative drive to it so it’s more thought-provoking.
Tug-of-War
My faith is at my core
Years of advocating for fringe kids
Believing in “Love is love.”
My faith is challenged
Struggling to advocate for my own
Love is love but at what cost
Our homeview affects our worldview
~Susan Ahlbrand
19 June 2023
Susan, your sevenling captures the struggle many of us raised in religious contexts face when “truths” butt heads. Your use of “homeview” is perfect.
“..at what cost”– just as our students carry their burdens wherever they go, so do we. Do we give ourselves the same grace we give them? I don’t think we do.
Susan, your title is perfect to show the pain of trying to advocate and providing love no matter the cost. Yes, “Our homeview affects our worldview”. I feel like your poem today is also connected to your experiences from yesterday. Keep fighting the good fight!
Susan, your feelings are all too real in the world of parenthood. Those hopes and dreams sometimes go a little off the path of what we always envisioned. It’s difficult to be in places where we seem to be somewhere between resistance and acceptance of the life choices our grown children choose. It’s even harder when we’ve left ourselves to be everyone’s mom and go to their games and plays and concerts and all the other hobbies they’ve chosen. In times like these, where faith might be questioned, remember too – – it can also be strengthened in ways you’ve never imagined. As the late, great Mary O says, “Leave some room in your heart for the unimaginable.” Hugs, my friend.
This is a perfect poem for today, Susan; no economy or more figurative approach are needed here. I can relate to struggles between “our home view” and “our worldview.” Questioning faith is okay I think. It helps understanding why we do what we do and make choices that seem not quite reasonable. You poem makes me think more. Thank you for that!
Susan this was a very profound, I too was raised in a religious household so a lot of todays society standards clash with how I was raised and the struggle is real! Thank you for putting it into words, I enjoyed reading this!
Susan, what a great topic for your poem. I have similar struggles dealing with my faith and the way God’s love is so often hijacked by those who seem to not even want it and certainly don’t want to share it. I love the repetition of “love is love” in the two stanzas, and that seventh line conveys some serious wisdom about life and what can put limits on us.
Leilya,
Thanks for this fun form which was a perfect fit for today. I loved your mentor poems, and what a great idea for use in my classroom! Here is my effort for today, as I lie in bed wanting to stay here, but perfectly aware that I have pressing obligations (sigh).
Desire to belong, to join, to do
Naggles at my mind
A bird pecking, insistent
Rest beckons. Weary mind,
Body need solitude
Caterpillar seeking underside of leaf
Respite is to fly, a bird on the wing
A perfect poem for early morning! I hope you have a strong cup of coffee, if you drink it. I like the image of a bird pecking, that pecking whenever I’m being or feeling unproductive. Not quite guilt and not quite anxiety, but a nagging, pecking in your mind even as your body sinks heavier into rest. I love how poetry makes some of our everyday private experiences shared and relatable.
Thank you!
Wendy, I’m loving the parallels between nature and life, the need to be a cocoon sometimes, to get away, morph, and grow wings to fly. I’m feeling it too this morning – I awoke to the house shaking and rattling with LOUD thunder, the kind that makes you think the world is ending. Ah, but it is the start of another new day. With much to do…..cheers, friend. I’m clinking your mug for the journey.
I love the caterpillar seeking the underside of the leaf! I have days where the underside is the only place I belong.
Wendy, I adore your nature imagery here. I feel that bird pecking, the need for respite. Powerful poem!
Oh, Wendy, I know exactly how you feel! Hope you stayed in bed a little longer today. Love a figurative meaning of “A bird pecking, insistent”.” Those ” birds” don’t rest )). Thank you for writing and sharing!
Wendy,
I wanted to read this as nature, as literal and rest with observing nature, but my mind kept going to figurative, maybe this is what you intended. I feel seen in the lines of “naggles at my mind” (all the time) and “body needs solitude”! That last line is stunning –indeed, “respite is to fly.”
Thank you for your words,
Sarah
Leilya, thank you for encouraging us to try this form. It invites good thinking and careful word choice.
Trigger warning: the poem below is political, with no apologies. Skip over if you wish!
Personal freedom, so they say
Individual rights rule the day
Keep that there government out of the way
New state laws with foam arising
Bodily decisions now denying
Moral beliefs hereby enforcing
You can’t have it both ways.
Kim, I love the rhyme scheme and the word choice you use in your sevenling today – especially arising, denying, enforcing. Those words alone show the progression of the tug-of-world war we live in.
I respond to the rhyme and the use of acting verbs in your second stanza. This is a very concise poem showing the contrasts in our political beliefs. So true!
Powerful messages! I think the sevenling form is perfect for a political punch like this. Thank you for speaking the truth in times when lies are the norm.
Nailed it!
YES!! Speak that truth!
Kim, this is my kind of poem: political. “Keep that there government out of the way” echos Huck’s pap in my reading. My husband goes off on tangents all the time about Orangey supporters on the public dole. I think those hypocrites you describe in the second verse are among the worse people. Their morality bears immorality. Yep, “You can’t have it both ways,” yet they seem to be making it happen. 😔
It is safe here, Kim! We are not shying at the sight of trigger warnings. You are right: there is so much hypocrisy in our society. Your final line says it all. Thank you for sharing your charged words today!
Hi KIM! I hope you circle back and find my comment because I NEEDED your poem. I’ve felt that incongruity: How can people wave the FREEDOM flag while slicing others’ freedoms? I love the way your rhyme pounds home your idea.
Thank you for this prompt, all three of these are lovely.
Priorities
My heart, my children
My work, their children
My books, knowing the world
His work, the lifestyle
His races, the tools, the cars
His legacy, the children
what’s missing?
Sarah, that’s a twist of an ending for sure! The question ~ sometimes we have it all but forget what is most important. Thank you for reminding us to look at our priorities – life, time, people, passions, actions. I needed this!
Hi, Sarah! I can see images that are too familiar in your poem. Often, we forget about the whole purpose of being together – our lives are so busy. I see that at least children are somewhat unifying this partnership, but is this enough? Thank you for reminding us about the priorities today!
So true–the overlap is sometimes not there–even in a marriage that has made it work for a very long time. I think many of us can see our lives in your poem.
Sarah,
This is really beautifully wrought. The two word phrases and the parallelism create a rhythm that seems to mimic the way that life can be paced, as we get swept along in its rhythms and routines. The last stanza is jolting–sad and unsettling. And a needed call for reflection.
Leilya, thank you for the invitation to write a sevenling this morning. This is a lovely form, short and powerful, that begs to be written of moments with all life’s twists and turns. I had strawberries for breakfast and think of you whenever I eat them! Ours have been huge and so sweet this year! Your poem helps put love and hate in perspective, to understand that hate is born of fear and bitterness. Too often, we forget that, so thank you for the nudge to consider how hate is not always the opposite of love – it can also be the opposite of truth.
Foxglove Funeral for a Grandson
Foxglove bells chime joy, bring smiles
on Mother’s Day in Georgia, painting gardens
in blush colors: the female womb blooms
Foxglove bells toll grief, stir longing
on Mother’s Day in Kentucky: a petal flips, a
cradle rocks in heaven ~ the female soul cries
empty arms mourning a baby not born
Dear Kim – the gorgeous foxglove, a symbol for riddles and mysterious secrets – here chiming simultaneously as a Mother’s Day symbol of joy for new life and loss of a baby in two different places – it is profound. But oh, my heart…the flipping of that petal, the rocking of the heavenly cradle, the empty arms…the loss is so palpable that I find myself reaching right through this insufficient laptop to wrap you in my own arms. I do not know if this makes sense but poetry prevails where mere words fail. Funeral for a Grandson. I am undone. The flower’s name ends with “love” – I suspect you know it’s considered a flower of the fairies (that you love) and also of immortality. Love to you and yours, friend.
Oh, Kim, you painted two strikingly different pictures with these foxglove bells. We don’t realize sometimes how same things may carry opposite meaning under various circumstances. Beautiful lines here from “the female womb blooms” to “toll grief, stir longing,” to “a cradle rocks in heaven.” The final line is just heartbreaking – so much pain in it. Thank you for sharing with us today!
Oh, Kim, this is just so sad and lovely at the same time. I’m sorry to read this and condolences for your loss if you were writing about your own experience. My niece-in-law went through a similar experience recently, and it’s just so hard. Your poem was just lovely and, I hope, a little cathartic to write. –Wendy
Kim, I prayed after reading this because I don’t know for certain if you have experienced this tragic loss but either way, someone did and I’m sincerely sorry.
Your picture, your poem, your love deliver joy in a sorrowful time.
Hugs, my friend. 🌺
Oh, Kim–the sorrow is palpable here. A cradle rocks in heaven–heartbreaking.
Kim, I feel such a depth of loss in your poem. Your final line is full of grief: “empty arms mourning a baby not born”. Your title shares a particularly painful loss. My heart is so full of worry right now as I wait for my own grandson’s impending birth. I can hear the female soul crying and visualize the cradle rocking in heaven. Hugs, dear friend.
Kim, I am in tears, thinking of the son extolled as a “petal flips, a cradle rocks in heaven” but most especially as a “female soul cries.” It’s not just one crying – we all feel this through your words and the recognition of one mother to another. When I first saw your photo, it reminded me of my own foxglove blooming right outside the door. I will think of you, this loss, and your words every time I pass by now. Hugs, friend.
Kim, that second verse is heartbreaking. Is it a paradox that one flower can represent both joy and mourning? It’s this grief that makes both mother’s and father’s day my least favorite holidays. Too many moms and dads w/ “empty arms mourning a baby not born.” Gorgeous poem, my friend, and I do love that photo.
Kim, a loved one lost a baby at birth recently – and I thought of this unexpected loss as a seed for this sevenling…I could not see my way through it. Your poem, with its emphasis on the foxglove and its bells tolling – ah, this is so beautiful, so poignant. Just what I needed to read. I am so sorry for the female soul and family experiencing this loss.
Oh, my…it doesn’t help that I’m watching a sad show while catching up on Ethical ELA…the tears…too many.
Oh, Kim, the juxtaposition of the foxgloves ringing out joy in one stanza and grief in the next is so powerful. I’m so sorry for the loss of this precious grandson that his family will not get to know. Peace to all.
Leilya.
I love the mentor poem and this prompt. The “Me (Moth)” poem captures the central ide of that verse novel, its tone and spare language. Your poem is spot on and feels very relevant for our times. Perfect love casts our fear and hate. I love the suggestions for teaching w/ the sevenly form.
The Women
One birthed two girls & a boy she gave alliterative names.
She believed in god she said at the kitchen table.
Her children’s lives forked before time arrived.
The other birthed two & claimed the other’s girls.
One they called blue baby, the other favored son.
They gave his white skin every privilege.
Curious things, our mothers & their daughters.
—Glenda Funk
June 19, 2023
Glenda, the last five words of your poem say so much. Curious things indeed.
Glenda, we are sharing same theme wavelengths once again – family, mothering. I see these same family dynamics of privilege and preference and feel myself oozing inside so many hearts to feel the secondness, to be able to empathize and understand the reasons for extreme reaches for attention. Truth spoken here!
Glenda, your lines linger in my mind, begging to be read and read again. One that haunts me most is “Her children’s lives forked before time arrived.” I want to follow the forked paths. I sense so much story. It pulls. As does the claiming of others’ children and favoritism… that, a root of great pain. The optimist in me hopes there’s overcoming. My husband is fond of saying that we make choices and our choices make us – I might add or break us (eventually). Your poem is going to stay with me, friend.
Glenda, thank you for writing another poem about women. I still remember your prompt about strong women in one of the Open Writes this year. As a mother, I know too well how it feels when “children’s lives forked.” It seems we are never ready to let them go. Mothers and daughters are really “curious things,” but I also know that their fates are more challenging, and their roles are more demanding. It’s not easy to be a mom, and as much as I tried, it seems I failed my daughters quite a few times. The lines that made me stop for a nod at this truth are:
“One they called blue baby, the other favored son.
They gave his white skin every privilege.”
Glenda, this is a great poem! So thought-provoking — I reread it several times to absorb it and enjoyed it more on each rereading.
I have reread this so many times, and find different nuances each time. Curious things… Hmmm.
Glenda, with each re-reading, I am more in awe of your words. I’ve played with the readings (taking just the title and the last line separately, for eg). I love the strength in the two word title, and the last line offers more curiosity than it answers – a sign of its depth. And stopping to contemplate the pronoun in “they gave his white skin every privilege” layers in even more.
Glenda, your poem is powerful showing how two women can both have children who are treated quite differently. I feel the weight of racism here and behaviors that are completely unacceptable. I feel the fear and the hate in your poem. Very provocative!
Glenda,
Your title made me pause. I right away. “the” and “women” and not “woman” and thinking about how I needed to prepare my brain for the contrasting of this collective noun, the message that would be here. The first stanza at the “kitchen table” with talk of god and then the “forked” lives– clever thread here. I found myself reading rereading the lines of “blue baby” and and thinking of the “they” and then in the final line thinking of “our” in “our mothers” and “their daughters”. Is it us? Such complexity, Glenda.
Thank you for this time with your words,
Sarah
Curious things, indeed! The line “They gave his white skin every privilege” gives me such a shiver.
“lives forked before time arrived” is brilliant.
Glenda, wow, so many amazing images here: “children’s lives forked” and “gave his white skin every privilege” are capturing me most of all today. That last line is perfectly worded too. Yes, indeed, “curious things”
Leilya, I also enjoy experimenting with short forms for the very reasons you give. They make for quick but deep and lasting impressions. I so appreciate the multiple mentor sevenlings you’ve shared here, for they are vastly different. I absolutely love the poems in response to novels – such a powerful, creative means of synthesis and interpretation.”Finding the Way” is my favorite for the spareness of words and the impact of that last twist. I am not as spare with my offering today (will strive for that with subsequent attempts) but I loved the pursuing ideas and images for the lassoing- thank you for this today!
Sphere of Influence
The national debt is $32 trillion.
All five finch nestlings in my door wreath
died with their mouths open wide.
The house needs repairs.
My toddler granddaughter finds a ball in the toybox.
She grasps my hand with her tiny one: “Go ‘side?”
I plant gardenias and hydrangeas for her memories.
Fran,
I did not know the baby birds died. Heartbreaking and prescient in these times, in this land of vast abundance and need. I think your poem is sparse and spare. It strikes me as having the specific economy necessary to force a reckoning w/ its themes. The dialogue offers a necessary breath, a reminder to plant and grow children and flowers, to care for our best and its inhabitants.
Thank you, Fran, for kind words and your poem this morning! The juxtaposition of the national debt and your personal house repairs is such a clever, but also interesting and needed! Your toddler’s voice is innocent and sweet as she doesn’t know yet, what “big” people’s concerns might be. Finally, planting flowers “for her memory” is the most important thing you can do at the moment! A beautifully crafted poem!
Fran, mine are Foxgloves today. So many times I write, then read, then see the common threads in other writers’ poems, just like yours today. Flowers as ways of keeping the past alive in our hearts and minds. I’m glad you’re choosing to go ‘side even as repairs are needed and life rolls on with its busy self of always needing something from us that doesn’t matter as much as the people who need us. I choose the ball today. I choose the tiny hand.
Fran, I am grieving your finch nestlings (more so that the national debt nesting in the same stanza). The mirroring between the first two stanzas is especially informative (money landing in the first lines, offspring in the next two). It makes me wonder about our ability to care for our offspring as I’m sure the finch parents were trying to do (any idea what happened to them?). You offer hope for the future in that last line – so necessary.
I am so sorry to hear that those little birds died. Such an image,” with their mouths open wide.” The second stanza offers small blessings…healing thoughts. Very poignant.
Oh the finches! So sad, but Micah holds out hope!
Fran, your poetry amazes me with depth and breadth. The national debt and the open mouths of baby finches and memories for generations really do all go togther.
Leilya, Thanks for this prompt. I love small poem forms. I haven’t heard of this one. Sevenling, love the sound of that word. Your poetic examples about novels are wonderful models for my own teaching. Tucking them away for the fall. I’m not sure my poem needs the title.
The Irony of Roles Reversed
I nursed three babies
while she watched
milk flow–mother nurture.
She holds a baby doll
while I watch
tender rocking–daughter lost.
She doesn’t call my name.
Margret,
This captures the circle of life for most women. The image of a child w/ a doll she’s feeding is the perfect one to honor that idea, yet there’s a sadness in that stanza, too, as the “I” must observe rather than be part of the ritual.
Oh, Margaret, how sad, but so beautifully touching! I know how difficult it is to watch you and mom “reverse roles.”
I love how you use dashes to intensify the meaning at the end of two three-liners. The final line is so heartbreaking for you “She doesn’t call my name.” Hugs and strength to you, friend!
This poignant poem needs to be read aloud to catch the sounds. I also appreciate the various ways the last line can be interpreted–so many of us can enter in.
Margaret, this one catches me off guard, tears welling. Those moments when the earth under our feet shifts and the one who has been our rock now needs us to be theirs. Oh, how powerful are your words today. My heart is heavy for all the ways we lose those we love over time. Hugs.
Margaret – your lines pierce my heart. The disease is so cruel. I’ve watched women in the Alzheimer’s unit of the nursing home trying to feed dolls. Reversals are many and layered, yet something so innate and precious remains.. your last line is searing. It all brings tears. Courage, dear friend <3
Margaret, I wasn’t prepared for the grief in your words (though the sevenling should have prepared me). This shows the nurturing and love from both sides, but especially honors the relationship between mothers and daughters, even when one is unaware. Hugs.
I know this so well. The tears come. I hold my hands up to God! I wish you comfort and solace.
Oh, my goodness…so much emotion in so few words. Wow. I also love the name, “sevenling.” It sounds like it has magic in it. Like there is magic in this poem.
Leilya, thank you for sharing such interesting poetry today. Every one provoked thought. Yours holds hopefulness and strength. And the line about suffocating sadness from the student’s poem is especially powerful. I couldn’t not write about Juneteenth today (especially after missing focusing on father’s day for my prompt yesterday) and continue to learn (the Smithsonian has a great series of interviews here: https://nmaahc.si.edu/explore/stories/what-juneteenth
Freedom’s Eve and Eve and Eve
Our second independence day*
when Union soldiers marched onto plantations
proclaiming emancipation
Texas, the westernmost rebelling state,
held onto slavery for over two more years**
Yet slavery still held on***
What does it really mean to celebrate freedom?
*January 1, 1863
**June 19, 1865
*** December 6, 1865
Jennifer, the addition of asterisks with the dates adds another layer to your poem. A wonderful model poem for students writing about history.
Hi, Jennifer! I am so glad you devoted this poem to Juneteenth. On the way home from the airport last night, we were talking with my husband about it. I, too, thought how I could miss it when preparing this prompt.
Just like you, I am still learning about it. Love your final line question: What does it really mean to celebrate freedom?
A very timely and vital poem!
Jennifer, Juneteeth came to my mind this morning as well, as I hear bits of the news that my husband is watching in the other room (which influenced my poem in another way). I didn’t write about it or about Father’s Day yesterday – but I believe the poems that want to be written come to us as they will and now is the time for your Juneteenth poem to be born. The conciseness of the form, your title repetition (“Eve and Eve and Eve”) and the inclusion of dates perfectly capture the long, long wait for freedom. To think of Texas holding out two more years – it seems unbelievable. The hows and whys of history. When do we learn???
Jennifer,
I love that you’re celebrating Juneteenth in your poem and believe poetry is a perfect vehicle for teaching history. Juneteenth is a holiday here in Idaho, which I’m sure will surprise many. I love the question that’s your last line. This is something I’ve thought a lot about lately.
Jennifer, the question at the end is so compelling and can run in so many different directions with the concepts and ideas we have of freedom. I love that you added asterisked dates to your poem. What an interesting echo to the three eves and the three dates!
Omggggg, Leilya commented on my poem that you and I went down the same road! This is serendipitous! Brilliant poem, Jennifer! I love that we both shared a link too! I am amazed at how this happens in many posts here. I’m honored to be In Juneteenth company with you today.
🎇🎆🎇🎆
Jennifer,
We were on the same page today. I love your last line. It is an ever present question.
Important question. Yes! Why is there this propensity in man to master others? Thank you for this!
Jennifer, wow. This is so powerful and you have taught us so much with your history lesson and…that title! Wow. I think it would be good to have 20th century and 21st century sevenlings about the freedoms that continued to be withheld.
Leilya, what an incredible prompt. I love a good short form with interesting constraints and this checks all the boxes. “the bridge is high/the water fast” paints a whole picture for me. Thank you. What fun.
Arm in arm swaying in caps and gowns
singing our favorite song off key
Entering for life with a degree
A big wide world – can anyone see?
Every single note hits a minor key
A person, place, or thing is a singular noun
An epidemic of loneliness abounds
ooops! take that “for” out after Entering.
Thank you for writing so early this morning, Linda! You masterfully conveyed the feelings recent graduates have. I remembered myself. When I reached one goal and had a comfortable fellowship, I found myself at a loss again before the next step. The final line is strikingly desperate: “An epidemic of loneliness abounds.” Make my heart sink.
I was surprised by the ending line. I am curious about why you wrote it? I love how you used rhyme that was subtle and effective.
Linda,
That final line is a gut punch, and it’s spot on. I remember that “is this it” feeling after my college graduation. In the final analysis we are each the essence of one and in many ways live life that way. Excellent poem.
Linda, you have brought me back to my college graduation. It was in the Great Recession and very few of us had jobs lined up. I think about how young people are fairing now with social media, clinging pandemic habits, and economic pressures keep many of us at home.
Linda – how mighty a capturing of the proverbial beginning of the rest of one’s life, in so few words! The incorporation of song and music – I can hear the haunting minor key – is pure artistry. Sets up the unexpectation at the end perfectly, on the heels of “singular noun.”
Linda-
This poem really resonates with me. Two of my kids just graduated high school this week and that feeling of loneliness and insecurity in “what’s next” is something that is often overlooked. Especially in this time when, as you say, “loneliness abounds”, that walk of graduation can be pretty scary.
Instinctive Discipline
Stern eyes search,
camouflaged in the Oak.
The Game I chase.
Deep in the thicket,
Antlers twitch, checking wind,
The Hunter I hide.
Ancient survival – one lives, one dies.
I love how you formed the last lines: “The Game I chase.” “The Hunter I hide.” And then the gut punch of one lives, one dies. You wowed me with this early morning poem.
Morning, Boxer! First of all, what a beautiful picture you chose for your poem! Then, the poem itself carries this earthly life wisdom – “one lives, one dies.” Your title is important and so perfect for the poem too. Thank you for championing today’s poetry marathon!
Clayton,
The picture is perfect. You’ve forced me to realize we have few poems honoring hunting. It’s big here. Your poem is quiet and spare, as is the hunt. I love the image of deer or elk w/ twitching antlers.
Boxer, the trail cam and the hunt are so huge where we live in our shared rural county. This brings to mind the day my son came to hunt the back side of the property (one good deer will feed his growing family for a good chunk of the season). I love my wildlife, and it hurts my heart for him to shoot these animals I put out salt licks for to draw them to my windows. I come to know them. But I love my family too, and I know all food doesn’t come “from the grocery store.” I texted him from my reading room window that morning: I’ve got a big boy right here I’m watching from the warmth of my reading room chair,” as he sat shivering in his tree-climbing deer stand, no deer in sight. But fair is fair, and my deer won the day!
Loved this! Powerful language that painted such a vivid picture. My husband hunts, and I really felt this.