Our Host
Leilya lives in Ponchatoula, LA, a small town celebrated for its strawberries and kind, generous people. She teaches and coordinates the English Education Program at Southeastern Louisiana University. Preparing future English teachers, she hopes they become caring, competent, and effective educators. She is an editor and contributing author of Where Stars Meet People: Teaching and Writing Poetry in Conversation. Her other books are devoted to teaching young adult literature in high school. Leilya loves people, cultures, and their rich traditions. She reads, writes, listens to music, visits her children and grandchildren, and enjoys traveling with her husband.
Inspiration
Too often our society is focused on grand gestures, and small acts of kindness, courage, or responsibility may go unnoticed. Being a decent human being or a good citizen isn’t just about dramatic change; it’s often found in everyday choices: holding the door, listening deeply, apologizing, picking up litter, voting, or standing up for someone.
Today, let’s reflect on the small acts that make a difference—in your life, your family, your classroom, your neighborhood, or your world.
Before you begin writing, you may enjoy reading how other poets have explored small acts, forgiveness, kindness, and human connection. These poems offer a variety of voices, perspectives, and styles to inspire your own.
- “The Gift” by Li-Young Lee – A tender memory of a father’s small act of care.
- “Kindness” by Naomi Shihab Nye – A profound reflection on grief and the roots of kindness.
- “Forgiveness” by John Greenleaf Whittier – A 19th-century meditation on the challenge and grace of forgiving.
- “Small Kindnesses” by Danusha Laméris – A contemporary celebration of everyday gestures that connect us.
- “The Mower” by Philip Larkin – A quiet reflection on unintended harm and the resolve to do better.
You’re welcome to read one or two for inspiration and notice how each poet brings a small, ordinary act to life with vivid detail and emotional depth.
Process
- Choose a small action or quality that you believe helps make someone a decent human being or good citizen. It may be kindness, honesty, fairness, patience, curiosity, listening, speaking up, sharing, helping, apologizing, forgiving, welcoming, learning, planting, voting, mending, repairing, thanking…
- Brainstorm what this word or act looks like in daily life. How does it show up? Who taught it to you? How do you practice or witness it?
- Write a poem celebrating or exploring this quality or act.
For a poetic challenge, you can write in one of these forms:
- Nonet → 9 lines; starts with 9 syllables, decreasing by one each line.
- Etheree → 10 lines; starts with 1 syllable, increasing by one each line.
To me, these forms reflect the nature of small acts—growing or releasing, building or shedding—and you may begin or end with one word.
In Your Classroom
If you want to bring this prompt to your classroom and write with your students, you may use the prompt I offered to you, or here are some more ideas:
- Invite students to choose nuanced or meaningful words (such as forgiving, kindness, resilience, patience, listening) and write poems defining or exploring them in a personal way.
- Have students select words to describe a character from a novel or a historical figure, and then write a poem capturing that figure’s relationship to the word.
- Encourage students to experiment with both nonet and etheree forms to see how form shapes meaning; have them reflect on which form felt most fitting and why.
- Create a class anthology or bulletin board of “life-definition” or “small acts” poems, celebrating the many qualities that shape good citizenship and human connection.
- Pair these poetry prompts with service-learning projects, gratitude walls, or discussions about civic responsibility and empathy.
Leilya’s Poem
Forgiving
Dark ache I bring with me to places,
its thick, heavy weight holds me sad,
pressed down, this rock I polish.
One day I trace its edge,
say the name I fear,
hear, it’s time now.
The stone shifts,
rolls free—
break.
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.
Thank you, Leilya. I love this prompt.
This is a “found” poem. I took most of the words from a post that I found inspiring, about the importance of bridge-building in science communication.
Bridge-building
And yet, even in this climate, they choose to build bridges.
Not because it is easy,
but because it works.
They work to connect,
to take the shame and blame out of their words.
They recognize that people are more than their beliefs.
They are human.
They work to connect,
to build the trust that makes honest conversation possible.
Because bridge-building isn’t about ignoring hard truths,
it’s about finding more effective ways to share them.
In small acts of connection and listening with empathy and respect.
Melissa,
I recently read “Super Communicators,” and your poem echos some of the ideas in the book. Building bridges, like communication, is hard. Your poem is a wonderful celebration of that.
Melissa, I love everything about the poem. The words/lines you found in the article are meaningful and weaved in carefully to deliver the message.
Among my favorite lines are “They recognize that people are more than their beliefs.
They are human.”
Bridge building to connect is necessary and so rewarding. Thank you!
This: Because bridge-building isn’t about ignoring hard truths,
it’s about finding more effective ways to share them.
we sure could use some bridges these days!!
Melissa, you’ve captured an idea in your found poem that listening and building bridges is one of the hardest parts of the scientific process because climate change is a really hard truth to look down and people really are doing a service! Great poem!!
Leilya — Thank you for hosting and for all the beautiful mentor poems.
Forgiveness is not always easy, but your image of the stone shifting really feels like freedom.
“The stone shifts,
rolls free—
break.” — so poginant!
A Pile of Kindness
Soup
Ladles of comfort from afar
Good for the soul & solace for grief.
The hand
of a friend extended across a table —
A gentle squeeze
reminding me I am not alone.
Hugs
So many, many hugs
To hold the pieces of me together.
Coffee
Paid for by the customer behind me in line
who doesn’t know my burdens —
& it doesn’t matter.
Kindness in coffee is empathy, sympathy, hope,
A quiet, “I got you today.”
:
Oh, Tammi, what a moving poem with a bouquet of small acts of kindness. Love these lines:
“Ladles of comfort from afar
Good for the soul & solace for grief.”
Also the final “I got you today” sounds so caring. Thank you for co-hosting with me and writing along! I am very grateful.
Tammi, you eloquently show the wonderful ways others try to comfort another during the most difficult days following a loss. The hugs imagery is particularly moving and I love your closing kindness. There is something especially sweet about the person who buys you a coffee even when they don’t know you. Sending hugs!
Tammi-this is a collection of exactly what those small things are. I love the ladle of comfort…
Tammi- I am also appreciative of coffee this morning, and your poem evokes warmth from the physical and human worlds. A beautiful hug of a poem about connections of all kinds.
Leilya, your poem resonates for me in so many ways. I understand the weight and the rock you polish. I also appreciate the Good Friday imagery. The end of your poem is exhilarating. Thank you for hosting and providing ample ideas.
Touched
I look at my hand, full of wonder,
like June’s strawberry moon, so close
I think I can touch it, but
I’m crazy. I feel the
Earth tilt too often.
You hold my hand:
listen, laugh
to free
me.
Barb Edler
23 June 2025
Barb, the loving acts of holding hands, listening, laughing ate so beautifully described!
The line that stopped me wondering was: “I feel the / Earth tilt too often.” I thought about its literal and metaphorical meanings, and in any case “each tilt” seems to be life altering. I am always amazed by your way with words–so intentional and precise!
Barb — I love this image
“like June’s strawberry moon, so close
I think I can touch it” and the feeling of warmth in your poem.
Barb, I love the play on “Touched” and “but / I’m crazy.” And there’s a real truth (and power) in the lines “I feel the / Earth tilt too often.” Oof, as the kids say (if they still say that, that is, lol). And I love love the last lines: “You hold my hand: / listen, laugh / to free / me.” Beautiful poem!
Joy. I feel joy in this poem.
Beautiful, Barb! I often think I can reach out and touch the moom. I love the lines: “You hold my hand: listen, laugh to free me.”
Barb,
This is lovely and tender. I can see the strawberry moon in your words and feel both the tilt and the tug of a friendly hand. Gorgeous, ethereal poem.
This one will stay with me today – – it feels like someone returning to hold our hands – – and I need to know this may happen from time to time, even the laughter! I too have felt the earth move and believe all things are possible.
Oh, that each person had a hand holder like yours. One to “listen, laugh / to free / me” is just about all one could ask for. Beautiful!
Hi Barb, your poem reminded me of how much I would enjoy holding my kids’ hands when they were little. I miss that. Then, I thought about the warmth and security in my mom’s hand. Awww, shucks, I miss that too.
Hand-holding is freeing! Love the ending.
I hope you had a better night than how your day began. ❤️
I loved reading this several times to find additional meaning. The hand is “full of wonder,” as is the speaker. In the end we “see” the wonder held in the hand. I feel the comfort and warmth of the hands holding–and freeing–each other.
Thank you so much for the prompt, Leilya. I very much appreciate your suggestions for practical and meaningful use with our students and not just as a personal a creative endeavor, of course, it can be both, and you provided us both, Thanks again. Let me give this a shot (or two):
kind
only
takes a sec
takes a lifetime
to give grace to you
to give grace to others
it boils down and it changes
into something much greater than
it started. Be kind. Reall, it’s easy.
Small
steps and
large intent
or forgotten
that we are not sole
that we are together
riding along in
this orbit – spin,
spinning, day
after
day
Thank you for your poetry offerings today, Luke! Your both shots are meaningful with the first one highlighting that it doesn’t take much to be kind but effect is timeless, and the second one reminding that we are not living in a vacuum, we are tethered together, and it makes life better. I appreciate both! We don’t need to make laborious intentional efforts, indeed, just have to be kind human beings.
Luke, I love everything about your poem. Your poem emphasizes the importance of kindness and grace and shares the impact it has since we are all part of this infinite orbit. One that I’d like to see not spin out of control. Powerful poem!
Luke — Truth! Especially this — “that we are together/riding along in/this orbit.”
SOS: There was a bad storm, and we lost electricity and Internet connection. I will try to respond from my phone while it’s “alive,” and if I can’t, I will catch up later tonight or tomorrow morning Thank you for writing and posting, friends!
Leilya, oh my! I hope you are all safe and your electricity has been restored. Be safe, my friend.
Hello Leilya and all of today’s poets! I was reading and reading and reading all these incredible poems, and this poem popped into my head. Thank you, Sarah for creating this safe space, and thanks to all the poets who come and create.
This
small space
gives voice to
many poets,
people searching truth,
weaving words for meaning,
sharing both hardship and joy,
the surprise of a new morning,
all voices welcome in this small space.
Joanne, you are treating us to a bonus poem today. I love your nonet to thank this wonderful space for a chance to be heard, to share, and find support. I agree this “small space” has a huge impact on our lives where “all voices welcome.” Thank you!
Lovely, Joanne. I appreciate the small space growing with its search for truth; its ability to connect us through our shared joy and hardship. Your closing line is full of grace and beauty. Thank you!
Joanne — I agree this is such an amazing space. I always leave each month feeling connected, hopeful and inspired!
These line especially resonant with me:
“gives voice to
many poets,
people searching truth,”
Beautiful. And so true!
We
crowded
around your
hospital bed
a bit nervous (but
not uncomfortable)
when the orderly came in,
asking if he needed to call
security, asking if these folks
were bothering you: tensions broke, we laughed.
_____________________________________________________
Leilya, thank you for another wonderful prompt (and mentor poem) this month! I can see this prompt working so well in the classroom: having students explore their own experienced “Small Acts”!
I always rely on you to lighten my mood. You did not fail again, Scott. Thank you!
Scott, this sounds just like my family. We joke in times of stress, even when a sibling is being wheeled off to surgery for a heart repair! Your poem really made me smile.
Scott, thank you so much for bringing smiles to us today! I am always noticing how little we, humans, need to do to support and uplift each other, and your poem is a proof.
Beautiful little story.💕
Scott, the focus of your poem is powerful. I love the stark image and relatable scene where one person can add just the right touch of levity. Beautiful poem full of compassion that certainly resonates for me. Thank you!
What a delightful poem! I can only imagine the laughter! Fun for all, thank you, Scott!
Leilya, So much to inspire poetry today. All of the model poems are so close to my heart. I love how your poem metaphorically takes us to the point of forgiveness, “break”, as in free from its weight.
I carried these with me to my physical therapy appointment today. (I have a rotator cuff impingement.) I also came across a William Stafford poem on my IG feed that I will attach. I used the idea that no one is given any guarantees in this life.
Again, thanks to all who hold this sacred space.
No Guarantee
At physical therapy, I look
around the wide room,
see others in worse situations than me—
the man smiling while he buckles
a prosthetic to his leg,
the woman slowly walking
behind a walker. (Hey! She’s walking!)
What is your pain level?
Where did you go this weekend?
How ‘bout them Tigers, folks?
Folks, in a variety of pain levels
joking about the weather. We know
each other by our injuries.
Everyone cheers like it’s our choice
to come and hang out,
to be held by caring hands,
vibrated by electrodes,
taped like athletes.
We collectively adore our therapists.
We proudly wear our progress.
We know there’s no guarantee.
Margaret, your poem brings me right back to a time when I had to go to PT, OT, and speech after an injury. Everything you said rings true, especially about knowing each other by their injuries. At the time, I thought the therapies would never end. Your poem is a reminder of the progress so many of us have made. I hope you feel 100% soon!
Margaret – I’m trying not to think that it’s my rotator cuff again – but it probably is – and now I’ll go back to PT – but with a whole new outlook: a band of intrepid survivors. I loved your line: We know each other by our injuries. And thanks for sharing the Stafford poem, it is priceless.
Margaret, I hope the PT works, and you feel better with every passing day. I smiled at:
We know
each other by our injuries.
Everyone cheers like it’s our choice
to come and hang out.”
You turn PT into a fun place )) Thank you for sharing Stafford’s poem. I like the phrase you borrowed as your title and final words – “no guarantee.”
Margaret, as one who has been to plenty of PT appointments, I adored your poem. You accurately and beautifully show the scene, the sense of shared compassion and support when people are struggling to improve their health and mobility. I am an avid fan of William Stafford, so I deeply appreciate you sharing his poem, too. Boy, do I love the electrodes:)
Margaret, you bring us right to this group of folks and I feel like I’m in the fold of the group, cheering everyone on. PT can be grueling, but oh – – the difference! I dreaded the pain it brought as I recovered from a broken ankle, and I dreaded the nausea and dizziness it caused when I did vestibular therapy for vertigo migraines. What a blessing to have folks who cheer each other on. I never got to know anyone other than the therapist, so that would have been a fun way to do PT.
Margaret, you are going through some things now. Thank you for the reminder. There are no guarantees. So much to be thankful for. Physical therapists are great. I love “We proudly wear our progress.”
Margaret, your poem and the attachment give us the important lesson in gratitude. I hope you are healing and that you’ll be back to 100% soon. Thank you for reminding me to be grateful IN THIS MOMENT.
Hugs,
Stacey
I had to break the rules a little bit, Leilya. Instead of an etheree with a syllable count, I did a word count. Great prompt!
For Di
6/23/25
My
world shattered
when I was
twenty-six, a happy
mom with two babies, when
my own mom died. Grief, my
instant, constant companion, crippled me so that
daily tasks were nearly impossible until a childhood
friend held my hand and insisted she would care
for my children while I mourned without any worldly cares
What a beautiful tribute to Di. To have such a friend is a true gift.
Oh Mo!
Thank goodness for Di. What caring gifts—affection, seeing what you needed, taking care of your children and giving you time.
Your poem made me tear up.
Thanks for sharing this beautiful tribute to your friend, Di and describing your grief:
Mo— wow. Your “instant, constant companion”, and such a friend Di was for you. Thank you for these thoughts…
Oh, Mo, your poem brings me right back to when I was 27, and my first husband tragically passed away. This was my “world shattering” moment. You were lucky to have Di, and I was lucky to have Mom, who dropped everything and moved in with me for three months to allow me some time for grieving. I thank the Universe for people like Di and my Mom, and I thank you for sharing and paying tribute to these selfless people!
Oh, Mo, your poem brought tears to my eyes. I understand the constant companion of grief and how life can push us to carry oh. I am so glad you had a friend who helped you with your children so you could take care of your own needs. Powerful poem!
Leilya—what a powerful poem!! These lines FELT heavy—
“Dark ache I bring with me to places,
its thick, heavy weight holds me sad.”
And the last short lines set us free.
i meant to follow the format, but then I saw this picture of a former class and this memory came back to me.
It’s the Small Things
Small things matter.
I taught the kids who were good at failure.
Reading was tough. Learning was hard.
School was a place they had to go.
They were MY kids.
They came into sixth grade scared and small.
They learned locker combinations and unfamiliar hallways.
On the first day,
I explained that I was one of those teachers
who teased sometimes, who liked to have fun in class.
I told them that if I hurt their feelings, to let me know
and that if they didn’t want to be teased, to tell me.
Often, “my kids” hadn’t been teased in class.
That was reserved for the smart kids, the cool kids,
the ones for whom the teasing wasn’t true.
My kids were in the background, usually left out of the banter.
One small boy asked not to be teased.
Over time, my kids learned to relax,
to make mistakes without fear of ridicule.
They learned that friendly teasing can mean
“I like you. I see you. You are worthy.”
They became braver, more confident.
They started teasing me.
Then one day, my small, quiet boy sidled up
and quietly whispered,
“You can tease me now.”
It’s the small things.
Gayle Sands
6/23/25
Oh, Gayle! How I love this! I only wish there were more teachers like you and that every new teacher had a mentor teacher who showed them how to love those who often get less. The image of the small boy, whispering quietly to you brings such comfort. Thank you, thank you, for sharing this today.
Gayle, It sounds as though you made those kids, your kids, feel seen. That’s the greatest gift a teacher can give students.
I can see those kids so clearly, Gayle. I taught those kids, too and understand 100% what you mean in this poem. Imagine how brave that student was and how welcome you made him feel! I love this poem.
Gayle, I was just listening to Amy Poehler interview Michelle Obama and they talked about how teasing is their families’ love language. Your classroom held a safe place for teasing. I enjoyed teasing my students and they were very good at teasing me. But there is definitely a balance. I love how your poem ends with the quiet boy coming around.
Gayle,
I love how your poem shows your special brand of respect, seeing, and belonging: teasing.
This stanza had me full on crying;
I can feel how much you respected and cherished your students, earning their trust.
I’m sure they will always remember your teasing and teaching.
Gayle – this is beautiful and so true. Teasing in your way showed you cared and that quiet boy wanted part of that action, a piece of your love and care. I think this is what teaching is all about. Thank you for sharing.
Omg..I love this. I love that small quiet boy who is proof of your kindness and the warm embrace of your classroom.
Oh, Gayle, memories like this are priceless! I recognized “your” kids as “my” kids too. It is so necessary for the kids to learn how “to relax, /to make mistakes without fear of ridicule.” I strive to do it for my college kids, and 6th-graders need it even more. I, probably, would be like that “small, quiet boy” at that age growing into trusting adults. Thank you for this gorgeous memory poem!
Gayle, wow, I love the way your poem leads to this final heart-warming action. It is the small things and you are correct with how teasing can be reserved for “the smart kids”. It’s clear you’ve made a powerful difference with the children in your classroom.
Oh, that sweet story. Your “small, quiet boy” whispering “You can tease me now.” is everything. He just needed to know you were safe. So sweet.
Thank you, Leilya, for your sweet personhood that creates such lovely prompts! And thanks to Tammy for her prompt yesterday. The mentor poems were all so beautiful. Thank you.
When the world is clouded, and hope’s not
assured, a pang for the future.
Essence of longing. Questions
Of he/she/they plunging
into tomorrow.
Yet today, you:
“Thank you for
coming.”
{Hug}
Denise, I love how the format of this poem carries all the weight down into one simple gesture {Hug}. And yet, that one small word offers so much. The brackets envelop it, mimicking the gesture, and draw notice, making it more pronounced in its impact. Lovely.
Denise,
This is a lovely celebration of two small acts: saying “thank you and a hug. I love the way a monet leads to a culminating moment.
I like how the form creates a rhythm for your poem. Sweet ending. There is still kindness.
Hi Denise! We both chose inverted nonets today. I love your last word and the way you began with the world but ended with one personal interaction. Connection is always the most important. Thank you!
Denise, I love the way you phrased the first lines–beautiful and true: “When the world is clouded, and hope’s not assured, a pang for the future ”
Thank you so much for being here! Hugs 🤗
Denise, I love how your poem touches upon pronouns and the feeling of inclusivity. Love the hug at the end. Powerful and gorgeous poem!
In those concentrated, uncertain moments, presence is the gift of now. Someone showing up carries weight and love. This is a beautiful expression of the power of being there.
I love this prompt, Leilya, and your poem has called me to read it again and again. I love the line: “pressed down, this rock I polish.” You precisely describe the act of holding on and letting go. I enjoy writing nonets, so I’ll try one here from something I’ve witnessed outside my bedroom window.
Hope
After days and days of heavy rain,
the pine tree showers the wet ground.
Its brown needles glistening.
On a high branch, blue jays
and blue skies return,
below the pine –
a mushroom,
golden
sun.
Joanne, I am savoring each word here and love how you bring back hope with “blue jays and blue skies return.” The entire image gives me peace and hope. Thank you for another beautiful, rich in imagery poem!
Joanne,
I love the inverted shape of the poem as it ties to the pine tree. I t is also neat the way it leads up to a solitary mushroom, highlighted at the base of the tree. Hope is something that quietly happens, regardless of human interaction.
Joanne, this peaceful image with its beautiful colors and details (glistening, golden) is so soothing. It’s as if I can smell the rain and pines, feel the coolness from the damp and the warmth of the sun. Such a calming space you’ve created.
A lovely image of blue jays and blue skies. This form worked well for you today.
This is lovely Joanne…the pine trees showering the wet ground, the brown needles glistening and most of all a mushroom golden sun…so perfect! Beautiful!
Joanne, even in the rain, there is sun. What a beautiful moment you have captured here in nature. Hope is just the perfect title – – without the rain, none of the growth would happen.
Joanne, what a delightful title for this snippet out your window. I can just see that mushroom popping out with such a vivid image of the golden sun to describe it.
Leilya, thank you for a day of reparative writing and reading. What a beautiful way to spend time. Yesterday, we had to put down our Shadow, unexpectedly. So many have reached out–such a good reminder of what we are truly. I do not have the bandwidth to figure out the formatting today, if it’s even possible, so I’m including an image.
Oh, Jennifer, I am so sorry for your loss. Your poem about small gifts of kindness that help us grieve and cope with a loss is so touching. Every word, every silent nod, note, hug mean so much. Sharon wrote about this too in her poem “Gifts of Grief.” Sending love and hugs your way.
Jennifer, my heart hurts for you and your family. I was so sorry to see your message yesterday. Our fur babies hold special places in our lives and hearts that can’t be explained. I love your poem and how it honors the kindness extended to you as well as your beautiful Shadow. Hugs to you and your family.
Don’t you love how poetry can hold your grief, how a form can give you space to feel what you are feeling. Hugs, my friend.
Jennifer—I am in tears reading this. Our pets are a special kind of family, and sometimes their loss is just too huge. I found myself getting ready to drop that last bite down so many times, with no one to gobble it up. I am so sorry…
Jennifer, I love how Shadow becomes the last line. I am so sorry for your loss. It does make a difference when others reach out to show they care. I love how your poem captures that message and the imagery you’ve created keenly shares the deep loss.
Jennifer, I saw your post yesterday and felt my heart skip a beat. I once had a black lab mix named Shadow as well, and my heart goes out to you in a big way. Hugs, my friend, and I’m so sorry for your loss. All dogs go to Heaven.
Oh, Jennifer, peace to you! My condolences on losing your sweet Shadow, a true family member. The part that makes me the saddest is when you looked for Shadow, and “want to have a bite with you,” Ahh. I’m sorry, friend.
Oh, no, Jennifer! This is terrible. You and your family are in my thoughts. “[T]he morning after you are no longer here / even though I look for you” is heartbreaking. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Hi Leilya,
Thank you for another welcoming prompt and one that eases me into the day. I so appreciate your poem on forgiving. Your gentle release is one we need to embrace.
I returned from my weekend in Lake Arrowhead and decided to write an Etheree. This was a totally unplanned and unexpected trip, and the small (but generous) act of kindness was the invitation to join the fun.
Sometimes, I am tempted to say no as a way to protect my boundaries and my peace, but this time, saying no would have been a mistake. Grateful for the time away and to be back home.
Unexpected Retreat
Friends
Road trip
Weekend in
Lake Arrowhead
Five girls and two dogs
Snacks, dinner, wine and laughs
Bedtime calls, we all crash out
Dawn awakens bodies stiffened
Coffee, donuts and boat ride to town
One more day of peace and relaxation
©Stacey L. Joy, 6/23/25
(The photo was taken yesterday from the boat.)
Beautiful, Stacey! The photo, your poem, the time you had together, the friends, the saying yes to an invitation that brought you peace and relaxation.
Stacey, what a great time gift and time with friends!
“Five girls and two dogs
Snacks, dinner, wine and laughs”
This is a perfect recipe for wonderful weekend! Thank you for sharing.
Stacey, What a lovely way to experience small acts of catharsis: friends, goodies to share, nature, and poetry. Good summer vibrations!
Such a fun form to express your fun weekend with friends. I’m glad you said yes. You deserve some joy!
Stacey, the unexpected retreat sounds amazing. Something I am sure you deserve! Love your Canva rendition, too!
What a beautiful depiction of forgiveness…the hardness or our hurt, the polishing and final push to freedom…thanks for the encouragement…I’m pretty good at forgiving, (but I have noticed that some of my rocks have left a sprinkle of sediment). Your poem is lovely and three of your mentor poems are already on my list of favorites. Thanks for hosting!
Kindness(for a young waiter whose name I don’t know, but whose kindness I never forgot)
The quarter he pressed in my trembling palm,
despite his awkward, averted gaze
and the venomous message he
repeated with compassion,
branded my broken heart
so that memories of
that dire night
hold hints of
sweetest
grace.
Ann, it’s those smallest gestures in the midst of our pain that bring the greatest comfort. Your waiter offered you a touch of that. After losing our dog in the evening and not wanting to return to an empty house, we went to a restaurant we don’t typically go to as to not bring sad associations to a frequently attended place. Our waitress, who had no idea about anything, was the perfect mix of upbeat energy and kindness. It wasn’t until we finished our meal that she asked what we were doing for the day that we shared what had happened. She was exactly whom we needed at that moment.
Ann, we should flood this world with kindness in every possible way. I so appreciate how you described a tiny gesture of kindness that helped you at that moment in a way
“so that memories of
that dire night
hold hints of
sweetest
grace. “
Thank you for being a generous poet, reader, and writer!
Ann,
While your poem is simply beautiful, I love what you expressed about forgiveness:
“I have noticed that some of my rocks have left a sprinkle of sediment”
Ann, your poem is compelling and I love the word choice to show the pain radiating from this scene. I love how you begin with the “trembling palm and the venomous message” but lead to the “sweetest grace.” Clearly you had a waiter who was mindful of your situation. Powerful and gorgeous poem!
Ann, this is heartfelt and I can see how the memory is branded forever into your heart.
Thank you for this sweet prompt, Leilya. Your poem made my breath catch – that shift in the stone, forgiveness. Beautiful.
This past spring, I had the absolute joy of working alongside my son two days a week in his D.C. public preschool classroom. Here, I try to capture some of the magic of his classroom – truly, “small acts.” ((Note – the italicized words are from Harry Belafonte’s song, “Turn the World Around”)
Small Acts
we
co-me
from the mountains
slowly, steadily, patiently
he sings
when the shoe’s come off and balks at
going back on
or those toys are spilled out everywhere,
so frustrating to clean
even when it’s time to line up,
to move on, but . . .
living
in the mountains
hear him sing
throughout the little stuck moments
of the pre-k classroom
his baritone soothes
encouraging, heartening, reminding
keep on keeping on
turn the world around
Maureen,
Your poem gives me the calm and caring of your son’s classroom with
Beautiful.
And it makes me smile to think of two generations of kind educators working together in a pre-k class.
I like how you incorporate Belafonte’s lyrics. Breaking down the syllables of “co-me” is a nice touch. Made me feel fully present.
Maureen, the choice of song lyrics (from a perfect song title for those small acts) threading throughout your poem allows me to envision how the moments of the day in preschool must be. How wonderful that you were able to spend time together–what a gift to witness his love and joy in the classroom. Each of our smallest gestures creates a much bigger impact in “turning the world around.” Love this!
Maureen, this is so cool to work alongside your son. Seeing the generational passion for teaching warms my heart. You integrated the lines from the song lyrics seamlessly here.
Your final stanza (before the line from the song) makes me appreciate the moments of joy in daily routines as it creates the same mood for me: “encouraging, heartening, reminding
keep on keeping on.” Thank you!
I felt the comfort in that classroom…
Maureen, what an amazing poem and son you have. I love how he uses his voice to add joy and encouragement to his students. I also love how you weaved in the lyrics. Brilliant poem!
Good morning, Leilya.
Thanks for this sweet prompt nudging us towards gratitude.
Your poem shows both the difficulty and freeing power of forgiveness.
These lines both resonated and showed me a new way of looking at what I have done when holding on to old hurts:
I will carry these images with me. Thank you.
Also, in response to your comment on my Ruidoso poem yesterday: Safe travels and enjoy your stop in New Mexico. It is a place of beauty.
—————————————————-
Gifts in Grief
A hard phone call instead of a text
A tissue passed from a stranger
A knowing look and slow nod
A snake plant that won’t die
A walk to hear birds
A hand-drawn card
A fierce hug
Kōden
Balm
I love the list-nature of this poem. Especially “a snake plant that won’t die”- I have the peace lily from my paternal grandma’s funeral, still alive and blooming from 25+ years ago. The memories in this list. Hugs.
Thank you, Sharon, we are looking forward to the trip, and I am trying to wrap up all the immediate projects/writing/recordings for class today and tomorrow.
Your poem is full of little gifts we get in grieving–each one is appreciated more than we are able to say at that moment. I have trouble choosing one line that would matter more than others. I’ve seen them all, but once a student walked up to me after class and said: “Do you need a hug?” I cried on her shoulder. Thank you for reminding us how important these little human gestures are!
Each of these truly is “balm” – beautiful list, and I admire how you created a nonet of these.
I’m awed by the beauty and care your poem gives me for such a hard emotion. I love that your snake plant will thrive. I’m a plant lover and have never had a snake plant and my peace lily didn’t last. 😢
I love how you format your poem, Sharon. Each line resonates with emotion and imagery. I can feel that hard phone call, the tissue being passed, and the fierce hug. Your ending is particularly moving. Thank you for sharing such a powerful poem!
I just learned a new word – Koden – and had no idea that this was a part of Japanese culture. I just lost a loved one, and so many of these things ring true. Just getting some normal back in my life taking a walk and going grocery shopping are gifts right now, and I do not even like grocery shopping. But it is a powerful reminder that life goes on, and even in the daily tasks we do, things will get back on an even keel at some point. Thank you for this list poem nonet.
Leilya,
Normally I would focus on how we have a family history of saving turtles from the road, but I remember this one from last year. Thank you for the prompt, and keeping me vital in a poetic sense during the month of June.
JANA
I met a princess in 8th grade,
floating in a bubble of time
at a converted cafeteria dance,
“Reunited” playing for the last dance,
the slow dance.
I met a princess who took off her heels,
and gave me the gift of height
for the anointed moment of a short song,
and I gave her the quiet gift
of never forgetting,
a first forever.
The quiet gift of remembering, that’s so beautiful. There are many people from childhood and beyond who I’ll never forget, and I love how you’ve framed it as a gift. Adore this. Thanks for sharing— that’s another small act worth millions.
Thank you, Rex! I am so glad the prompt reminded you of that precious moment of “the quiet gift / of never forgetting, a first forever.” Such a heartwarming memory!
There is great beauty in that “a first forever” – love that! You have captured a truly precious moment.
This is priceless. I danced with my 8th grade boyfriend to “Reunited” and your poem brought me right back to the moment!
The taking off of the shoes… a true gift.
I love this Rex! I love the image of a kind princess floating in a bubble of time…a first forever…beautiful!
Rex, what a sweet love poem for a sweet love memory!
💜
Lovely memory. Just lovely…
Rex, beautiful poem. I appreciate your opening, the image of the princess floating in a bubble of time is ethereal and relatable. I can feel myself pulled into the cafeteria dance and the gift of taking off her heels so she wouldn’t stand taller than you. Quiet gifts are certainly powerful as you demonstrate easily in this striking poem.
as my “fun job” I work at a diner on school Sundays and summer weekdays. This prompt made an easy connection to the FREE little things that customers do (or don’t) and how I always try to do the same because I know how it feels on the other side. Here is my poetic tip to learn your server’s or bartender’s name; it makes them feel like a person and not a servant. And they’ll probably be nicer back 😉
What’s in a name
“Thanks,
and what
was your name?”
Caught by surprise
the server smiles,
“Kim” hurries on her way,
no longer waiting tables,
now a human helping others.
Because the only thing she needs more
than tips at the end of the night? Respect.
C.O., learning or remembering names is so important. I keep telling it to my students. I love how you underscore transformation that happens to people when they see respect:
“no longer waiting tables,
now a human helping others.”
Such a beautiful reminder to us all. Thank you!
C.O.,
This makes all the difference:
Love the shift from:
There are so many small, powerful ways that we can connect as humans, even with strangers. Thanks for modeling one.
Brilliant, caring wisdom –
Thank you for this reminder to slow down and connect when we are eating out.
C.
I think the respect is what brings a lot of us back to the jobs that we hold, whether it be waiter, teacher, whatever…I appreciate that you are addressing the issue of strangers become people. We are in a world that forgets the ties that bind. It says a lot that she is “caught by surprise,” as knowing the wait staff as individuals is so rare.
I love this. Asking a server their name is a little thing w/ a big impact. Yes! They deserve respect and to be treated w/ kindness.
Thank you, C.O., for this “poetic tip”! It is so well crafted and so important. Back in the day, I used to work concessions at a movie theater, and I can, unequivocally, say that food service workers have it tough! And I’m saying that knowing that I was only tangentially a “food service worker”; John Q. Public can be brutal when it comes to waitstaff and food service and whatnot! (Oh, and I, too, loved the lines, “no longer waiting tables, / now a human helping others.”)
C.O., I know my son who waits tables for a living would appreciate your poem. There is something so important about feeling another’s sense of humanity and respect. Lovely poem!
As a mother of two servers, I appreciate this so much. Yes, respect as a human being is a thoughtful gift that so many today forget is important. Thank you for reminding us in this poem.
Such a sweet prompt, Leilya!
Small but Large
Handwritten notes
with their penmanship
and permanence
pack of punch
that no text or email could.
Taking the time
to write a quick note
of kudos
for the performance in the play,
the game-winning hit,
the award won
shouldn’t be
so appreciated
because it should
be more
commonplace.
People feel more seen
and the effort,
though just slightly more,
becomes more valued.
For at least a while,
it’ll sit on a desk or counter,
or find a home in a drawer.
Sometimes,
they become treasured keepsakes
re-read in times when a spark
is needed.
Write the note.
It means more.
~Susan Ahlbrand
23 June 2025
Susie, thank you for mentioning the kind notes! I agree
“Sometimes,
they become treasured keepsakes
re-read in times when a spark
is needed.”
I love them so much, and I actually do it on the last day of class. I pass lots of index cards and/or sticky notes and ask students to write notes to each other noticing at least one good thing about a peer. I, too, write a note to each student with them during class. it’s always such a warm celebration of each other.
Yes! A handwritten kindness is a keeper!
The call to action at the end- perfect. I still send snail mail and it does mean so much more to be thought of in this way. A friend told me my card mailing was an act of altruism. And handwriting is a treasure. Love this piece.
Susan,
This is so true. Notes of appreciation are acts of kindness that can have huge impact. I have notes from my students tucked away that I pull out ever now and then when I need a lift.
Susan,
Thank you for this lovely call to action.
My favorite principal often wrote us notes of appreciation or recognition of difficulties we were facing. They meant so much to us. When she left our school, she wrote us notes on post-its and it always made me smile to see them in my colleagues’ classrooms years later.
When commenting, I like to quote a favorite line, but I’m struggling to do so in yours because each line wrings true and means so much.
Thank you for calling to mind the handwriting of my best boss, my grandmother and my mother.
Yes! I love to write and to receive handwritten notes … and I am always looking for new/special notecards. These messages have meant so much to me through the years. “People feel more seen” – yes!
Did anyone see the Today Show segment where the principal at a high school gave a handwritten note to every graduation senior. There were over 400 kids in the class! The impact was huge.
Thank you, Susan. This is so true. As a teacher on the receiving end of the notes of appreciation, it can keep you going when you ever question your worth. These type notes, for the kids, can be seeds that really help them bloom in the years ahead. Thanks for articulating this.
Emails and texts don’t get gathered in old shoe boxes… : )
Susan, your poem resonated for me. There was nothing more joyful than receiving a true gift of kindness through a specific thoughtful note. I save these and find them from time to time. It always brings me joy. Your two final lines says it all!
Susan, yes! The notes during times of sadness, particularly, stay with us. So many in this group have reached out with emails and social media messages – even a curation of poems on grief, and those words have sustained me in recent days. I treasure those words of kindness, and your poem rings true. Thank you for reaching out the way you did!
Leilya, what a beautiful poem to open and read this morning. I’ve had a difficult weekend and needed your words today to spark my spirit. I have to work, but I hope to return later today. May Monday be a gentle and kind one to all! Barb
Take it easy today, Barb! Sending kind thoughts and hugs. Hope today will be a better day 🙂
Such a beautiful surrender to forgiveness!
I am from the west coast, traveling in Maine this week –and blurry timezones are proving hard to write in! My foggy brain will not make a nonet or etheree out of this, but I’ll play with the draft after I find coffee!
small acts: listening
awakened at four– your muffled snore
inflating percale sheets– there will be
no more sleep
I try to don a poet’s ear, hear
a raven’s crack split the sky,
a distant honk– not the winged-geese kind,
a fan hums air across my cold feet
an overnight rain steams in the street
surrender at five, I rise to overlooked,
under-sung sounds: summer’s first day
in Maine
Patricia, I hadn’t ever been to Maine before last November, but oh – – what a treasure of a place to wake up! I’m with you on the time zone fog…..I, too, suffer from that same affliction when I travel. And I like this just the way it is – it was birthed through the pen this way and it is perfection as it lives.
Patricia,
Maine is one of my favorite vacation spots. The sights and sounds which capture beautifully in your poem make Maine a magical destination.
Patricia, we are heading west for our road trip on Wednesday, and I am bracing for some time-change adjustments too. I love “listening” as a small act. These lines sing to me this morning:
“I try to don a poet’s ear, hear
a raven’s crack split the sky,
a distant honk– not the winged-geese kind,
a fan hums air across my cold feet
an overnight rain steams in the street”
There are also many sound devices that create such a beautiful flow– internal/echo rhyme of “ear, hear” and then assonance, alliteration, and consonance in “a raven’s crack split the sky.” Thank you for this gift–a perfect form for your morning inspiration!
I love all the senses being awakened here for the writer and the reader. And I love Maine, I’ll be back in September. Thanks for sharing
Patricia – this is so beautiful – the sound and the sights of it. I go to Maine in late July and cannot wait to experience it again. Thank you for bringing Maine to me this morning.
Oh, Patricia, your poem is making me laugh aloud. I love your line “I try to don a poet’s ear, hear/ a raven’s crack slit the sky”. So many clever details that capture the senses. Loved it!
Frog Noodles on a Bicycle
Smile,
unlike,
bathroom tile,
“Just made you smile”,
Smile for bright sunshine,
while you write to unwind.
Revealing that you are kind,
Unravels all joys one can find,
While easing the tensions of our minds.
Big smiles are contagious signs of our times.
Hands down, smiles are contagious, Boxer! Your skillful rhyming complements the meaning and adds to the flow. I like your suggestion to smile “while you write to unwind.” Thank you!
Love “while you write to unwind” — echoes of kindness I receive from my husband everyday!
That last line – – yes, the universal language of contagion: big smiles, sharing a piece of heart. I love the way you titled it – unexpected and it brings its own smile, this title.
Yes, smiles really are contagious and can truly make someone’s day. This is a small act that can make a big difference!
Perhaps intentional, the title made me smile before even reading the poem. Clever. I enjoy this and smiling is FREE and renewable. Thanks for sharing and inspiring a smile through a screen.
Boxer,
I like that you reclaimed “signs of our times” as a positive.
Your poem reminds of the simple but effective lift a stranger’s or a student’s smile has given my day.
Thank you.
Leilya, your poem speaks straight to the aching heart. The line that sticks most with me is
this rock I polish
because there is intentionality in not forgiving. Your poem brings to mind that
forgiveness is a personal thing, not about the other person or situation and a weight is lifted when it happens. I needed this message today. Thanks to you and Tammi for hosting us this month with engaging prompts and inspiration to write. I chose a nonet from your forms and one small act of kindness.
A Gift of Dill Pickle Chip
I slide my dill pickle to the side
a rippled chip, algae-hued green
floppy, salty, puckery
knowing he’s eyeing it,
never having to
ask for this chip
he knows I’ll
offer
it
Oh, Kim, these little gifts are the best! So much love is in your dill chip. The description is rich and enticing:
“a rippled chip, algae-hued green
floppy, salty, puckery”
You choose the words that make me want to get up and look for a snack.
Ah! I have a hunsband who doesn’t like pickles and he gifts his to me too!
Omg I love this. The colors, flavors, textures, and the kindness. Slide and side in the same line. Perfect! 🥒
This is the best. So relatable and wholesome and so true of a couple. Something special and unspoken when I can steal something off his plate because I know he’ll trade me, etc. love this.
What an image! Love this!
This poem is great Kim…I think an algae-hued green pickle without being asked is the perfect small gift of love and sign of long,comfortable love…I also have a husband who loves puckers pickles though I’m not always as generous as you…sometimes there a French fry trade involved…
Love the rhythm of this, Kim. Just a small pickle chip, but such love in small eternal doses.
Kim,
You’re as bad as Ken when it comes to feeding the fur babies human food. Snug always sat and awaited his share, too. Now Stanley does it, but Stanley can’t eat what Snug could, so I have to scold Ken all the time. I do love the way you describe the chips and pickle. Yum salt!
Kim, what a delightful poem. Food can be a wonderful gift. I appreciate the way you describe the chip:)