Welcome to Day 27 of Verselove. If you have written with us before, welcome back. If you are joining us for the first time, you are in the kind, capable hands of today’s host, so just read the prompt below and then, when you are ready, write in the comment section below. We do ask that if you write a poem today, in the spirit of reciprocity, you respond to three or more writers. For all the prompts and to learn more about Verselove, click here.

Our Host

Jessica Wiley lives in Conway, Arkansas and is a Special Education Inclusive Practices Literacy Teacher at Morrilton Intermediate School in Morrilton, Arkansas. She is an avid reader and a lover and a writer of poetry. When she retires, her dream is to become a librarian. In her free time, she is a part of Arkansas Hands & Voice and Community Connections, local nonprofits in her area. She is married with two children, a daughter and a son.

Inspiration

One of my flaws is that I am overly passionate about obvious things. Lately it’s been the lack of respect from school-aged children and “privileged drivers”. And if I can’t speak about it, I write about it. Today’s mentor poem, “Sound and Fury”, comes from Claudia Rankine (found here https://poets.org/poem/sound-and-fury ). On her feelings on white supremacy, she was quoted in The Vulture, a New York entertainment magazine, stating: “I thought about who wasn’t represented in my own work, and who I had little contact with in my own life. The answer was poor working-class white people”.

Process

Is there something you have heard or saw that has struck a nerve? For 30 seconds, make a “vent list”. After reading the mentor text, take this opportunity to unleash feelings effectively and draft a poem. There is no special format or specific type to follow. You can be serious or silly. Be whatever you need to be in this moment.

Consider using this prompt and mentor text as an exercise with your students in the classroom. Depending on the grade level, you can discuss current events or share a moment of reality. If students have difficulty generating ideas, have a brainstorming session or provide a series of ideas or topics you have already developed and let them choose. You can use this to teach your students how to effectively communicate and to express themselves. Writing is freedom of expression and it can be a healthy way to be acknowledged.

Jessica’s Poem

The last time I checked respect was given, not earned.
But teachers seem to be the only ones concerned.
Rudeness, back talking, and even assault,
“Not my child” the parent says, but who’s at fault?
How dare you make my child….Oh, the teachers!
Remember “The Golden Rule”, sounding like those preachers.
If you can just be quiet, or hey, even take a nap,
Just let me do my job, without feeling like a poor sap.
One more eye roll and a curse under their breaths,
Hopes, dreams, and wishes, just funeralize these deaths.
At the end of the day, I just want to feel like I matter,
There’s not enough money in the world to mask the screams that make glass shatter.

Your Turn

Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.

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Marisa Rico

I’m a little late responding, but thank you for the interesting prompt!

“Back when I was your age, we did it this way!”
“What y’all go through now is child’s play!”
“We didn’t have that back in my day!”

Okay, but who asked?
Can’t y’all stop being so biased?
Why don’t you realize the past is the past?

You have a house with a deck!
I live paycheck to paycheck!
One mistake and my life will be a wreck!

We can’t do it the way we did!
We can’t afford to have a kid!
Or even afford a house, god forbid!

Things change, the times aren’t the same!
You’re struggling and all you do is give us the blame!
But you don’t look at the real problem, what a shame.

Mak

Socks that disappear in the laundry — where do they even go?
Endless notifications buzzing my phone — can I get a moment’s peace?
The last slice of pizza always gone when I crave it most.
People who don’t use turn signals — it’s simple flick of the wrist!
Misplaced glasses — again!
A jammed printer when the paper’s due in an hour.
Sorry, wrong number texts at 3 a.m.
Uneven pavement that trips me up on sunny days.
Coffee never hot enough when you sit down to drink it.
My spirit lives on these scattered thoughts of life.

This might be a different take on this prompt. But recently it seems all my nerves have been getting nicked at. So why not explain them all.

Leilya Pitre

Mak, I have the same concern about the socks, why, how, where? )))
Your “scattered thoughts of life” belong to this prompt. I had a somewhat similar draft with random things bothering me. Thank you for reminding me I am not alone.

Marisa Rico

Mak, I like your take on the prompt. I like all the small troubles you go through that anyone can relate to. I can relate to the missing socks and turn signals. I like how it’s like a mess of thoughts. Great job!

Em

I hate politics and economics
Gas prices and tuition
Broken families and religious debate.
Why does the world just hate?

I hate terrorists and billionaires and people who complain
About mediocre crap that only exists in their own brains. 
We live in a world of beauty that we all seem to ignore. 
Wouldn’t that be a better topic to discuss than another protest or war?

Trees surround us and clouds pass by while we argue about 
Who gets to decide who lives and who dies, 
When a dollar outweighs a life,
And what makes a word dangerous. 

We lose friends and family to stupidity, 
While the world loses all ability 
To have the smallest amount of empathy
For people who aren’t them.  
While prices rise to the sky
And politicians spew lies 
About topics they can’t even describe.
While families starve, and babies cry, 
and missiles shoot across foreign skies. 

In a world so shattered, can we please find some peace? 
So I can stop writing about all the things I hate and get some sleep.

Mak

Hi Em, wow really good striking poem. You really hit on what it seems like the world/society is going through right now. Or maybe even someone in this lifetime.
And politicians spew lies 
About topics they can’t even describe.” This couplet right here spoke so much truth. Not only politics but you can never believe the truth from the news/media.

great poem, I really enjoyed this and it hit home for me.

Stacey L. Joy

Em,
Powerful! I am hearing the rhymes and flow like it’s spoken word! Your heart is in every word and I am in agreement.

👏🏽👏🏽 👏🏽 👏🏽 👏🏽

When a dollar outweighs a life,

And what makes a word dangerous. 

Marisa Rico

Em, your poem hits really hard. You hit everything major going on in the world right now. It seems no matter what we do, we can’t escape the hatred and ignorance that causes so much pain in the world. “I hate terrorists and billionaires and people who complain
/About mediocre crap that only exists in their own brains.” These lines strike a cord for those who wonder why we have to get dragged into their decisions and why we have to get affected by them. It’s an amazing poem, wonderful job.

Jeania White

Thank you, Jessica for hosting today. My petty rant has nothing to do with school…my kids are practically perfect.

The bathroom rug always does it’s job.
It looks nice, and is a soft place to land
After a shower.
Unless….
It somehow soaked up all of the water
From the shower before.

I know, I ask a lot. But for the love
Of a dry rug,
PLEASE PLEASE be mindful of the shower curtain. Wet feet post shower are most
Unrefreshing.

Mo Daley

This made me LOL, Jeania. I could feel that soggy mat under my feet as I read your poem. Well done!

Leilya Pitre

“But for the love / Of a dry rug” is priceless, Jeania!

Glenda Funk

Jeania,
Sounds as though someone needs sent to the locker room for additional training. LOL!
But for the love
Of a dry rug,”
Best line I read today.

Stacey L. Joy

LOL, Jeania! I get it. I feel that way about a lot of things, too numerous to share. 😂

Kim

Hi Jessica. After a very noisy week and a work-day Saturday, I simply needed the sound off. So I decided to use your prompt as a play on words to meet my need for quiet this evening.

Sound Off

Today I need the sound off
to tiptoe through clouds of silence
listening to echoes
of nothing at all

Sound off
vibrations stilled
hearing only the words inside
my own head

And in that quiet
inspiration speaks
in colors muted and soft
a masterpiece

heard only by one

Jeania White

Kim,
This really sounds less like a rant and more like a call to introspection and self discovery. Love,love love the progression from clouds of silence to a colored masterpiece heard by one.
Brilliant lyrics!

Mo Daley

I live this, Kim. Your poem feels so empowering to me. Your ending is lovely. I hope you got what you needed out of today. 😃

Leilya Pitre

Kim, this is what I usually want every day by the evening. Love the sound of “to tiptoe through clouds of silence.” Beautiful imagery!

Mak

Kim, I really appreciate you for valuing you silence and time to yourself. Sometimes this is what we need most in life, and for reasons this time of the year can seem the craziest. Not only can one enjoy some silence to themselves, sometimes your best thoughts come then.

I hope reading poems and writing your own helped to your relaxing day.

Allison Laura Berryhill

Thank you, Jessica, for introducing me to Rakine’s “Sound and Fury”–so thought-provoking. My vent list (thank you!) ended on Tattle-tales, inspired from an incident in my classroom this week. I don’t teach third graders, so students reporting other students’ behavior is not a daily occurrence for me. And I feel friction.

Whistle-blower
                            Tattle-tale
Champion
                             Canary
to praise
                             to shush
Thank you
                             Just stop
Valorous
                             Vainglorious
My pride
                             My thorn

Jessica Wiley

Allison, I love the positive/negative connotation between these columns. “To praise” and “To shush” and “My pride” and “My thorn” are my favorite because it reminds of my own son. He is hearing-impaired and didn’t really form sentences until he was about 1. Now he won’t be quiet and sometimes I wish he would! Imagine an almost 10-year-old criticizing dinner and talk about my parking? Ha! The nerve! On another note, I think I want to try this form. Thank you for sharing today!

Leilya Pitre

Allison, I never taught in elementary school, so I am not familiar with their ways, but I can easily relate to “to praise / to shush / Thank you / Just stop.” I like the brevity. The “Valorous” and “Vainglorious” sound amazing!

         

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Oh my, Allison, at the end of the school, we always hope that things have begun to end smoothly after all our work nurturing a collaborative learning environment. As the students observe the way this issue is handled, they’ll see ways that they can handle similar situations later in life. Continue to be the light and all will turn out all right.

weverard1

Jessica,
Thanks for this prompt today. It did help me let off some steam. 🙂

“Progression” (a ghazal)

Constant cries of “I me mine” resound today
Selfishness, intolerance abound today

Empathy searches for home today
Regard, respect, homeless they roam today

Human evolution seems to stand still today
Devolving to beasts seems to thrill today

What happened to human concern today?
To community we need return today.

Helping others in need makes us feel today
Inhumanity abounds, seems unreal today

Is this why people are so sad today?
Why people at heart are so bad today?

Looking only to self and inward today?
Embracing their roles as sinners today?

These actions make us smaller but larger now.
Petty grievances make us all targets now.

Our magnificence we lose respect for now.
Patience for others not expected now.

Lost faith in ourselves and our humanness now.
We become smaller and turn into new men now:

Maybe Elliot was right about hollow men now
Maybe this is how our world ends now –

Not with a bang but a whimper now
With a whine, a complaint, and a simper now:

Why do we need care for others now?
Who needs to see them as brothers now?

Jessica Wiley

Wow, it’s amazing how we can express ourselves with words! This is what’s missing: “What happened to human concern today?
To community we need return today.” Not many people care and it’s showing. Bring back humanity today. Bring back love today. Bring back everything you mentioned, NOW! Thank you so much for (venting) sharing!

Leilya Pitre

Wendy, your poem asks so many important questions. i am drawn to this one: “What happened to human concern today?” and your response “To community we need return today.”

Ending with today and now emphasizes the urgency of the situation. We have to do something about it! Thank you, Wendy!

Katrina Morrison

You Break my Heart Again

Dear student,
When I asked
You to come up with
A set of “Island Rules,”
I was thinking along the lines of

  1. No fires except on top of the mountain
  2. Never wander off alone at night
  3. Use the bathroom in the ocean
  4. Share your food with others
  5. Maintain a clean supply of water
  6. Bigguns look after littluns
  7. Whoever has the conch is the speaker
  8. Take care of the shelters on the beach
  9. No swimming alone
  10. Absolutely no violence

I was certainly not thinking of your rule #3
No LGBTQ people

Jessica Wiley

Katrina, this world has become a cesspool of hatred and evil. And the very ones we teach have no clue why-it’s what they’ve been exposed to, learned from others, and the lack of understanding, empathy, and compassion is beyond sad. We can only do so much, but I wish we could go back to changing the world one student at a time. We are no longer valued or respected by anyone it seems like. I hope this student will open his eyes and ears to his hate. Thank you for sharing.

Susan Ahlbrand

Truly heartbreaking.

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Katrina, as sad as it is to see this kind of response, we know it exists and the way we handle it will be part of our demonstration of DIJE. Just do what you know is right … letting the students speak their minds and encouraging them to be kind …anyway. Not easy, but you must have a classroom in which students believe they can tell the truth … as they see it. As you respond, you are teaching. So, keep it up.

Leilya Pitre

This really breaks my heart, Katrina! When? When will we learn that all humans are humans, and they are all an equally essential part of our humanity?
I also loved the sound of this line: “Bigguns look after littluns.” Thank you!

Dave Wooley

Jessica, thank you for the opportunity for catharsis in this prompt. There’s an awful lot to rage against these days, but I guess the thing that always bother me the most is complacency, indifference, and opportunism in the face of blatant wrongdoing and injustice.

Some Kind of Monster

I’m not bothered by
the monsters.
One expects their
lair to be littered with
the bones of their enemies
and the innocent.

What bothers me are
the monster deniers,
monster apologists,
monster enablers,
monster profiteers.

Cuz like I said,
monsters are gonna
monster. But if we can’t–
if YOU can’t–
at the very least,
see a monster
for what it is,
and call it by it’s
name,
soon enough,
the bones in it’s lair,
tomorrow,
are gonna be
yours.

Mo Daley

So true, Dave, and timely. I really like your second stanza.

Scott M

Yep, Dave, 100%! This makes me crazy! The slippery slope of “the new normal” in this “post-truth” world (even the fact that there’s a thing called “post-truth” boggles my mind). This just makes me shake my head. This “reality” has, of course, made me re-think about how I teach the persuasive essay in class. I still don’t want students using fallacious arguments, but I have to agree, yeah, sometimes (often times?) people use them “in real life” (and, unfortunately, they are rewarded when they do). Ugh. And I love the truth of your warning in your second stanza. Thanks for this!

Denise Krebs

Oh, yes, Dave! Hear, hear, everyone! “Monsters are gonna monster” but “if YOU can’t…see a monster for what it is…” I’ve been asking that for 9 years now. I love the warning at the end.

Susan Ahlbrand

So good, Dave. The wisdom just oozes.

Jessica Wiley

“Call it by its name”. Yes Dave, yes!! Monsters are gonna “monster”, but it’s time to take the mask off the supporters, deniers, and “oh wellers” to expose them for who they really are.

Donnetta D Norris

Repetitive Poor Behavior

Here we are yet again.
Facing the return of your ugly friend.
Everyone else has to ache.
For control of self you would not take.

Here we are yet again.
And this time I refuse to pretend
All is well and hunky dory.
This just may be the end of our story.

Ashley

Donnetta,

Your poem captured the annoyance of dealing with someone who keeps making bad choices, and the last line highlights the strength it takes to move forward. So much power in so few lines!

Stacey Joy

Ouch! I hope the person knows that when a woman is done, she’s done. Curious if the “ugly friend” realizes the time is ticking.

Mo Daley

The end of our story…sometimes that can be hard. But sometimes it’s necessary.

Jessica Wiley

Donnetta, your resounding “Here we are yet again” means it’s time to cut the strings. No more enabling or putting up with it. The end of our story leading to new beginnings of peace. Thank you for sharing today.

Leilya Pitre

Evening, Jessica! Thank you for hosting and for letting us vent. I know how it feels in the classroom sometimes. Sending you kind wishes to complete this year!
I wrote a couple of poems in response, but none felt right. I was talking to my daughter early this morning, and she said she was getting ready for the trip. This is all I could think about, so here is a nonet about my worries:

My child journeys to Kyiv tomorrow
she’ll roam streets of the capital
my heart, heavy, knows the fear
the dangers her path holds
words fail to persuade—
to convince her
to stay and
be safe
pray

Nonet for April 27.jpg
Mo Daley

Well, I can see why this was in your mind. You can count on prayers for her safety and return home.

gayle sands

Leilya—it is so hard to set them free, but they will go. Kyiv! No wonder you are worrying. Here’s hoping for a safe (and quick?) return!

Susan Ahlbrand

Leilya,
They just love to use those wings, don’t they? I will add her safety to my prayers. And your peace of mind.

Dave Wooley

Leilya, I would be so worried too. You and your daughter are in my prayers. I hope she returns home quickly and you can have peace of mind.

Katrina Morrison

Leilya, wow, you captured a mother’s worry with “my heart, heavy, knows the fear.” I am thinking of you and your daughter.

Denise Krebs

Oh, Leilya, I can see why you are worried. Your sharing here will have others of us praying for her safety too, and all those in Ukraine. Peace to you as she journeys.

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Leilya, I join those who’ve already expressed they will be lifting up prayers for safety for your daughter. Though you may be sad, you also can be proud that you have a child who i willing to risk her life on behalf of others. That’s some kind of love…some kind of parenting. Prayers for you, too.

Scott M

Leilya, you and your family are in my thoughts! Thank you for sharing these worries with us.

Barb Edler

Leilya, I can feel your concern and love for your daughter in every word. I love the hands in your Canva, and the way you wish to protect her journey. The heaviness of your worry resonates in this beautiful nonet. I’ll be praying for her!

Stacey L. Joy

Leilya, wow, I am praying for your daughter’s safe return. It’s normal as her mama to be worried. We are here to support you.
Your graphic is lovely!

Sharon Roy

Jessica,

Thanks for the prompt and the Claudia Rankin.

Sadly, your poem resonates. It’s exhausting to be disrespected by students and parents, especially when we work so hard to build good relationships.

Just let me do my job, without feeling like a poor sap.

One more eye roll and a curse under their breaths,

Hopes, dreams, and wishes, just funeralize these deaths.

At the end of the day, I just want to feel like I matter,

Mirrors

Why are you so angry with me?
Why do you look at me like that?
Why do you smirk and look at your friends when I share something?
Why do you roll your eyes when I talk?
Why do get so defensive when I ask you a question?
Why do you have to run to tell your friends what I said after we resolved the
issue?
How do you think that makes me feel?
Why don’t you trust me?
Why don’t you see me as a person?
One who makes mistakes like you
One who is sometimes tired and sad
Can’t you see how hard the other teachers and I are working for you?
Why are you so mean?

Why are you so mean?
Can’t you see how hard my friends and me are working?
Do you know what I’m going through?
Can’t you just let me be when I’m tired or sad?
Why don’t you trust me?
How do you think that makes us feel?
Why do you have to tell the other teachers what happened when it wasn’t even
a big deal?
Why are you always asking so many questions?
Why are you so sensitive?
Why do you take everything so personally?
Why are you mean mugging me?
Why am I always in trouble?

Sharon Roy

The formatting didn’t work. I intended a symmetrical indentation pattern with each line in the top stanza being indented a little further and the second stanza starting at the same indentation of the last line of the first stanza and each subsequent line of the second stanza being a little less indented. In this way the the two stanza’s indentations mirror one another from top to bottom.

Tammi Belko

Sharon — Really enjoy the juxtaposition of teacher and students and how our thoughts and rants are mirrored. Clever!

Sharon Roy
Leilya Pitre

This is how I imagined it after your explanation. Looks great!

Leilya Pitre

Sharon, even without the formatting, the title helps me read your poem as mirrored. I also like that both parts are composed of questions. The questions that made me pause were this pair:
“Why do you have to run to tell your friends what I said after we resolved the issue?” and
Why do you have to tell the other teachers what happened when it wasn’t even a big deal?”
Sometimes I hear conversations of the instructors in the lounge room; these questions reflect many of them.
I believe this question is could be equally painful for teachers and for students: “Why don’t you see me as a person?”
Lots to think about with your poem, Sharon. Thank you!

Dave Wooley

Sharon,

The formatting makes this poem even more powerful, but, maaaaan, “Why don’t you see me as a person?” and the repetition of “Why are you so mean?” are really really crushing.

Katrina Morrison

Sharon, I was thinking ‘YES!’ to “Why don’t you see me as a person?” I am so glad, though, that you shared the student’s reflection. How often do we “mean mug” without realizing it. Your poem reminds me that it is all about relationship, relationship, relationship.

Jeania White

Sharon,
Format or not,this is a fantastic picture of both sides of the teacher student relationship. Such great reminders that our students have feelingstoo.

Scott M

Sharon, this is great! And I love “the look” of it — thanks for adding the link so we could see its true shape. The repetitions of “Why are you so mean? and “Why don’t you trust me?” are the lines that got me! Thanks for crafting and sharing this!

Seana Hurd Wright

Hi Jessica, Loved your poem and the chance to say/write some words that my be on all of our hearts as the school year winds down. In the interest of time, I thought I’d rework a previous entry from a few years ago.

Questions To A Student

What were you thinking when you chose to call me a female dog?
You’re 11 years old and you feel that’s acceptable?
Will you ever learn to multiply, divide, comprehend fiction test
and cite sources?
Is that word used at home freely among your family members?
Who told you it was appropriate school language?
Was it your loud screaming parent who the office
people fear due to yearly use of profanity and rudeness?
Can you please stop bringing your toxicity into our classroom?
Will you learn respect, know any kind words, how to play well with others,
be able to get and keep a job?
Do you and your family pray at home and are you even aware you can
ask for grace, love, guidance and forgiveness?

By Seana Hurd Wright

Tammi Belko

Seana — I feel the frustration in your poem and love the way your ending softens with
your question
“are you even aware you can/
ask for grace, love, guidance and forgiveness?”

Donnetta D Norris

Seana, it is so very sad that these question have to be asked, and especially to an 11 year old. Being a teacher is becoming more difficult in so many ways. I pray educators are “at home” “ask[ing] for grace, love, and guidance…”.

Leilya Pitre

Oh, Seana, bless your heart! You reminded me of a story from my teaching-middle-school days. One older and more experienced teacher once told me that when a student calls her “a female dog,” she looks straight in the eye of the student and says: You know, sweetheart, I can be many things, but I am definitely not a female dog. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here; you’d be out there in the street where you can see that dog.”
You last questions is spot on: “Do you and your family pray at home and are you even aware you can / ask for grace, love, guidance and forgiveness?” Amen!

Mick

Letter to My Loved Ones 

 

I can’t give you my body. 

I can’t offer support, 

I can’t empathize  

with your hardships, 

I can’t put your troubles  

above my own, 

though I know that’s unfair of me.  

 

I need to be whole, 

to do my schoolwork, 

to do my chores, 

to bathe myself, 

 

But I’m missing inconceivably massive 

parts of myself.  

My Brain and my Body 

are untethered. 

I’m expected to go on,  

to give you what you need, 

then I’m left with nothing for myself.  

 

I’m sorry I’m behind on  

essays, 

projects,  

laundry, 

dishes, 

I love you’s,  

I’m just  

a little 

         mel   

    ty 

ri 

   ght  

       no 

    w.  

gayle sands

Absolutely perfect! There are those times when it is just too much. I love the way you melted that last phrase down the page.

Tammi Belko

Oh, yes! I know how you feel, especially at the end of the year when there is the mad rush to get all those standards covered before state testing. As my kids say, “not enough band width!”

Leilya Pitre

Mick, I love your poem for this brutal honesty. Often, we are so busy that we neglect our family. Somehow, it is unspoken truth that your loved ones will always understand and forgive. Hope the end of the school year is not too rough for you. Thank you for sharing!

Em

Mick, I love your poem. I think this is a very common feeling and you captured it perfectly. I especially love how you split up the last couple of words to show the “melty” feeling. Awesome job!

Mo Daley

Holiday Cleanup
By Mo Daley 4/27/24

Why, oh why, can’t you ever find
The place for knives, forks, and things of that kind?
You’ve been in this house hundreds of times,
Yet my frustration fills these silly rhymes.
You unload the dishwasher, which is nice,
But I’ve told you once, twice, even thrice!
Cries of “Um, where does this go?”
For real? I mean, come on, bro!
The world would be a much better place
If my cups and silverware you didn’t misplace
Just be smart and try to think like me
And the world will make sense, you’ll see!

gayle sands

“Just be smart and think like me” Because we are the ones who are right! (My husband just gives up and leaves the unknown location items on the counter…). I love the plaintive/ disgruntled tone here!

Donnetta D Norris

This is funny and true all at the same time. Great poem.

Leilya Pitre

Mo, you had fun with this one I think. I could write a similar one about my hubby, who lives in the house and still can’t find anything, even the things he placed in his garage. LOL

Tammi Belko

Mo — I remember my mother always frustrated with the clean up after family gathers, too. She definitely would have agreed with this:
“The world would be a much better place
If my cups and silverware you didn’t misplace”

Denise Krebs

Haha! Thanks, Mo. This is so great. Holidays are like that at my house too. And look at that rhyme scheme going on in this fun poem.

Stacey L. Joy

Hi Jessica,
I love it! Don’t we all just want to feel like we matter? I am exhausted from all the crap thrown my way as a teacher and this past week was unbearably brutal. I am tired!

Teacher-Tired

Yesterday was rough. 
I caught myself typing a response in anger.
Pausing to breathe, I thought of Fannie Lou Hamer’s quote: 
I am sick and tired of being sick and tired!

Some parents just make me sick
They try to tell me how and
what to say or do and I am tired
of it! The gall and nerve of
some people, always advising but never being
self-reflective. I’m sick
and tired of being professional and
holding my tongue! I am teacher-tired!

©Stacey L. Joy, April 27, 2024

Juliette

Stacey, I love the format of your poem, the repeat really emphasizes the point. The issue with parents can be exhausting.
“They try to tell me how and
what to say or do and I am tired
of it!”

Mick

Hello, Stacey. My favorite line was, “always advising but never being / self-reflective.” There’s so much truth in that, I can feel how fed up you are. I hope the rest of the school year flies by for you. Wonderful work!

Barb Edler

Oh boy, Stacey, I understand your teacher tired. Your golden shovel poem captures the essence of feeling insulted and frustrated. I’m sick and tired of being tired goes bone deep and your poem resonates that weariness! Wishing you a much better week ahead!

gayle sands

Stacey—great golden shovel, and so apt for this time of year. I do not miss this part of teaching at all. Don’t you just want to tell them how you really feel!?

Sharon Roy

Stacey,

This resonates. I had a parent earlier this year send me redesigns of two of my assignments. It can be exhausting to continue to be professional while not be treating like a professional.

The gall and nerve of

some people, always advising but never being

self-reflective. I’m sick

and tired of being professional and

holding my tongue! I am teacher-tired!

Hope you get some much deserved rest this weekend and that next week is kinder.

Kim Johnson

Stacey, I love the golden shovel – – you have always been a master at this form, and using the quote and setting the stage then working the poem is sheer creative energy. I hear you – – oh, how I hear you. I was so afraid I was going to open up and let loose on someone most days in the classroom that I put up a Shakespeare quote to remind myself how quickly I could be fired if my mouth got the best of me: “A horse, A horse, my kingdom for a horse!” It was code for I didn’t want to lose my certificate to a smart ass, and it worked as a solid reminder. I’m thinking of you in these final days before summer.

Donnetta D Norris

Amen!! Sick and tired. We matter!! You matter! Thank you for doing what you do Stacey.

Leilya Pitre

Oh, Stacey, I am so sorry! I wish those last weeks were filled with more positive thoughts. I remember this line from Fannie Lou Hamer. Maybe, it was you who introduced it in this space once or maybe someone else. I also understand that you are a professional, and because of it, you are always “holding your tongue.” This is so frustrating. Hang in there, friend. Sending hugs and strength to you.

Katrina Morrison

Stacey, You had me with Fannie Lou’s famous line. Then you added to it with “I am teacher tired.” Brava! Parents, sit up and take notice!

Denise Krebs

Oh, “teacher-tired” is the most exhausting kind of tired! Clever way to write a golden shovel, Stacey. Here’s to a quick coming of summer! I’m glad we had this means to vent today. Next up, bad Tesla drivers. Peace to you, Stacey.

gayle sands

There are so many things that I could rant about— in fact, I have ranted, frequently. This time, I am choosing something petty to complain about. Petty, but very real. Jessica, thank you for this opportunity to complain just one more time!

What Really Bothers Me

It’s
not
that I
resent
getting old.
That is what 
happens when you 
haven’t died yet. What 
really bothers me is that what 
is left of my youth is having a party 
around my waistline. It seems like all 
the extra calories answered some 
sort of summons to meet where 
my waist used to be. Couldn’t 
they gather somewhere that 
wouldn’t set off my BMI 
alarm? Getting older 
shouldn’t mean get-
ting wider. Thanks 
for listening to 
my Ted talk.
It’s time for 
lunch.

GJSands
4-27-24

Scott M

LOL! “Thanks / for listening to / my Ted talk. / It’s time for / lunch.” And the shape of this?! Perfection: every line, every bit, everything! I’m celebrating your crafting of this situation — not the very real, ugh, terrible truth of this phenomenon of slowing metabolisms and conspiring calories — but your wit and style with which you handle not dying yet. Continue that, please!

Stacey L. Joy

Oh Gayle,
I am laughing and crying at the same time! I was going to ask what form you used, but decided it was the middle-aged woman form!! 🤣 All this is perfect!

That is what 

happens when you 

haven’t died yet. 

Love that closing!

Juliette

Gayle, although your poem is sharing a real issue, your words have made it so humorous.
All the lines are skilfully written, just sharing this one:
 “What 
really bothers me is that what 
is left of my youth is having a party 
around my waistline.”

Barb Edler

Gayle, oh my! Your poem speaks my feelings perfectly. I understand the shape of your poem, and I’m always ready to eat!

Sharon Roy

Thanks for making me laugh, Gayle. My Dad says getting old is hard, but it’s better than the alternative.

Cheers to lunch — and a good sense of humor.

Leilya Pitre

Gayle, you made me smile with “what / is left of my youth is having a party / around my waistline” and your ending with “Thanks / for listening to / my Ted talk.” You are not alone; I am right there aging alongside you. Enjoy your lunch…and dinner ))) Thank you!

Leilya Pitre

Oh, and I just looked at the formatting and saw that widening waistline in your poem. Clever!

Susan Ahlbrand

I’m right there with ya, Gayle! I especially love these lines:

It seems like all 

the extra calories answered some 

sort of summons to meet where 

my waist used to be.

Denise Krebs

Haha! Gayle, this is perfect! The shape and the words. I love the widest part is when you introduced the body part we were meeting here that you were ranting about. And then the ending, perfect!

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

If people could just
come clean
about their lives,
I am sure my
washing would
shade the water
a color of fear:
that I am
afraid to sit still,
to listen to her echoes
I’ve painted over,
to read his mural of woe
wrapping my spine.
Yes, I’d
come clean,
and that water
would run a rainbow
down my body
into the drain
to blend
with the water
you used
to come clean, too.

I borrowed a line from Rankine to get me started today. Thanks, Jessica.

Juliette

Sarah, I read this poem twice. Very intriguing.
“that I am
afraid to sit still,” These lines shared a lot.
We are all moved by one thing or the other but it is how
we manage to deal with it- my interpretation.

Barb Edler

Sarah, your water of fear resonates for me. I feel the pain of reading a mural of woe and hearing sorrowful echoes. The need to purge the pain speaks to me through your poem. If we could all just come clean! Sensational poem!

gayle sands

Sarah— there is so much hidden in this poem, so much unsaid. This—“to listen to her echoes/I’ve painted over,/to read his mural of woe/wrapping my spine.” we carry our past with us, no matter how much we wish we could just wash it away…

Susan O

Of course I love any words using color but this line “that water would run a rainbow down my body” is a fantastic picture of cleansing.

Susan Ahlbrand

I’m giving you a hug across space and time, Sarah. This is haunting. The following was especially powerful:

to read his mural of woe

wrapping my spine.

Denise Krebs

Sarah, so many apt images running through the waters and cleansing of your poem. I’m intrigued and it is a perfect example to me of the complicated folding together of relationships. I love the phrases “shade the water / a color of fear” and then “run a rainbow” It’s like the speaker thinks the water would run a color of fear, but after coming clean there is the rainbow made from all those who dare to be honest. That’s what I see anyway.

Juliette

Jessica, your poem sheds light on pertinent experiences. Here’s my take on your prompt, after a brainstorm, I chose to write about the, “School Day.”

School Day

Days full
Or is it the schedule?
Lessons taught
Planning here and there
So much to juggle
A merry-go-round day

Longer to-do lists
Stretching
from door to desk
could it be the teacher
not putting A before B

Could it be different?
So we may sigh
at the end of the day,
sharing the passion
that keeps us afloat
and cheering
“Hooray, we made it!”

Leilya Pitre

Yes, Juliette, you made it! As I am getting ready to write in response to today’s prompt I thought I would, probably, complain about lack of time. Well, Let’s see what will my tired brain produce.
I like the optimistic ending of your poem:
So we may sigh
at the end of the day,
sharing the passion
that keeps us afloat
and cheering
“Hooray, we made it!””

I am sure passion is what keeps us doing all this despite all our complaints and “longer to-do lists.” Thank you for writing today!

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Juliette,

The school day, especially this time of year, really does feel like “Longer to-do lists/stretching” and this poem asks “Could it be different?” I wonder this, too. I wonder if there is another way, other than white-knuckling through to a break or end of the school year. Sending comfort!

Sarah

gayle sands

Hooray! You paint a realistic picture of the teacher’s every day. It is the passion that keeps us able to continue for the next day…

WOWilkinson

Is it okay to vent about my own choices? I’m feeling the crunch right now. Thanks for the invitation.

Why did you assign
so much learning?
Now it’s due
and you have no
time do
what you want
to do.

Seniors are finishing
(or at least their time
with you is ending)
work and demand
points in the gradebook.
Counselors catch kids
and now they want
all their late work —
and could you grade 
it all right away.

Oh, and conduct these interviews, 
write that plan,
go to that conference,
run that meeting.

Dude,
ya gotta stop
saying
yes
to 
ev-
er-
y-
​thing.

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

WOW,

I love this last stanza dripping with “everything” so slowly, drawing my eye and mind down, down to the many “things” that make up a teaching life. But I am very glad that you said “yes” to writing poetry today!

Sarah

Dave Wooley

I second what Sarah said, the slow drip of “everything” is really effective in the last stanza. And that is great advice to follow; it’s just so hard to say no sometimes!

gayle sands

Yep. It is that time of year. Your draining last line says it all. But the best of us tend to say yes way too often!!

Emily Martin

Thank you for your prompt. I am definitely going to come back to it because I thought of several things to write about. I appreciate (and am saddened too!) by all the failing educational system poems here. I could join in that rant, but instead I wrote this in my head while writing my bike up from my morning surf. (Electric bikes might honestly be my biggest pet peeve.)

There are two hills in my town
This morning I pedaled down
the one for bikes
And sometimes hikes.

At the bend in the path
Two electrics caused me wrath
Both kids about fifteen
I’m not usually this mean.

They’ve no excuse like my knee
But it doesn’t stop me
So unless someday you want pegs
Please just use your damn legs!

Emily Martin

Oh gosh! After posting this two -minute-in-the-making-poem, I realized how bad those two last lines sound. I don’t mean them threateningly! I’ve just seen so many accidents happen or almost happen with the hoards of 10-18 years old (my 16-year-old daughter ‘s friends included! One of her friends just broke her leg from an electric bike accident.)

Glenda Funk

Emily,
I read your note as well as your poem. I like those last two lines. They don’t sound threatening. They’re a necessary warning. I had not thought about the dangers of E-bikes until reading your poem,

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Emily,

Love your intro here about writing your bike up from your morning surf. I wish I were there. I miss beaches. This phrase “Two electrics cause me wrath” made me slow down and re-read this term unfamiliar to me, which is such a nice surprise to read on to uncover and do the inferencing work of what/who the poem was referring to (kids about fifteen). Then, the insider comment “I’m not usually this mean.” Perfect.

Sarah

Barb Edler

Jessica, thank you for hosting today and providing the opportunity to vent. I love how relatable your poem is, the powerful voice you share. I can feel those eye rolls and the disrespect often directed towards teachers. When you ask for help with a student, it seems like the teacher is under scrutiny rather than trying to support and mediate a situation that most likely has no connection to what’s happening in the classroom. I was deeply moved by your words: Hopes, dreams, and wishes, just funeralize these deaths.
At the end of the day, I just want to feel like I matter,
There’s not enough money in the world to mask the screams that make glass shatter.

Rejected

Mother said there’d be days like these—

but she failed to show me how to breathe
beneath cruelty’s rank weight
how to rise to write words 
with razor sharp teeth

how to annihilate needle-dick pricks
who savor chaos, greed, injustice,
the bitter poison they sell dirt cheap
who burn our hearts, steal our homes— 

in an orange world trumpeting
mindless corruption, I weep
curl like a dead autumn leaf below crimson leaves, 
leading me to leap into its fiery abyss

Mother said there’d be days like these—

Barb Edler
27 April 2024

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Oh, Barb. I hope you felt such agency in writing this poem. I feel seen in the familiar — to familiar feeling of rejection in my life. I see you and you see me. That is the power of poetry. Indeed, you offer such insight into how to carry the rejection after — “how to breathe…how to annihilate…weep/curl like a dead autumn leaf.” Oh, all of this.

Sending comfort and gratitude for your poem today!

Sarah

Stacey L. Joy

Barb, Barb, Barb! You did it again. You are on fire with your poetry and I love them all!

how to rise to write words 

with razor sharp teeth

how to annihilate needle-dick pricks

who savor chaos, greed, injustice,

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Glenda Funk

Barb,
These lines are 🔥:
in an orange world trumpeting
mindless corruption,”
I just can’t w/ this idolatry and democracy destruction. That first stanza makes me wonder, Fid any of us really understand how to react to having our rights taken away? Did any of us consider the very real possibility we’d be fighting to save democracy? I wish we’d understood and acted sooner. Every word describing g the action of “needle dick pricks” is true, and in my mind I see Stephen Miller’s ugly face. What a poem. Thanks for this.

gayle sands

I can it believe we have lost so much in so few years. “in an orange world trumpeting
mindless corruption, I weep. Exactly. I am afraid for our nation.

Kim Johnson

Barb, you have unleashed the poetry beast today, friend! That annihilation is such fun visual imagery. I’m glad you wrote a Sound Off poem, and I could hear the music and the song. Our mothers are sorely missed, especially on days like these.

Leilya Pitre

Oh Barb, I am so with you having “days like these.” Your poem is poignant and full of fiery with each word razor blade sharp. Today I just want to “weep / curl like a dead autumn leaf” because there is so much pain in the world, and it seems we are helpless. Thank you for finding words to reflect on our societal deep sores!

Denise Krebs

Barb, wow, your title “Rejected” makes me feel for you and all those feeling rejected. It seems the poem is personal and yet we know the “needle-dick pricks / who savor chaos, greed, injustice” She did not show you how to annihilate them, but you did learn “to rise to write words / with razor sharp teeth” Amazing poem of sounding off today. Thank you for sharing.

Nathan Chase

Jessica, I think I needed this prompt.

Anxious

Don’t be mad when I fill the silence
Cause all I feel is your rapacious violence
You say I talk to much when the game goes still
But I’m too scared to walk through the silent hill
Your eyes roll when my foot taps and my fingers spin
“You can’t stand still,” is that a sin?
I get anxious when you’re quiet, your jaw stays slack
I worry if I said something stupid or made a personal attack
Worry worry worry, it never ends.
Worry worry worry, until I have no friends.

Always afraid and incapable of fun
Makes Nathan the loneliest one.

Barb Edler

Nathan, anxiety is a really detrimental force, and I appreciate how you show it through personal actions, thoughts, and reactions. Worrying can push others away, generate nervous tics, and cause one to be isolated. I feel your final line to my very core. Powerful poem!

Glenda Funk

Nathan,
You’ve tapped into and given voice to the anxiety so many young people face. It’s different from the stressors of my generation. That last line is a gut punch. I do hope putting pen to paper today offers some catharsis.

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Nathan,

“rapacious violence” whoa! That is a phrase. The solitude, loneliness you capture here and the way we fill the silence to feel maybe seen, maybe less alone offers lots to contemplate.

Sarah

Susan O

Travelers

I enter a room
boxes of granola bars, apples, sacks and a list
hotel room numbers
119 needs 8
eight in one hotel room?
fill the bags 
deliver
wipe and sanitize the tables
where grubby hands have sat 
and played board games
chatted
waited
waiting
and waiting

don’t understand
how do I say it?
what is a microwave?
dropped at a bus stop
after walking miles
across desert 
through jungle
swimming a river
“Where am I?”
I deliver a sack
set on the floor
eight to that room
three to the next

a door opens
“Gracias”
on to the next
then behind me
someone is sneaking,
gathering all the sacks 
I have already delivered.
A habit of survival.

a bus arrives
door opens 
a line of people
old, young, 
dirty 
tired
what stories they hold?
where will they go?

Another inviting prompt. Thank you, Jessica. Today I am sad that there are people in this situation.

Barb Edler

Susan, your poem shows the severity of being homeless and the awful things people must endure or do to try to survive. Your closing questions are compelling!

Gayle Sands

“what stories they hold?” We have no idea. No idea at all.

Sharon Roy

Susan,

Thanks for this compassionate poem.

I like how your last stanza shows the relentlessness of the difficulties migrants face and how too many people are incurious about their stories and their uncertain futures.

a line of people

old, young, 

dirty 

tired

what stories they hold?

where will they go?

Glenda Funk

Jessica,
I love Claudia Rankin’s poem and have read it several times, including to my husband. It’s a mirror for white folks, myself included. Regarding your poem: I don’t know how sped teachers do so much given the abuse, which you name. I’ve written a draft but will return to this prompt later and attempt to write something more befitting Rankin’s excellent poem. Thank you for hosting.

Signifying Nothing 

People love 
what you speak
until you 
say what they 
execrate. 

They’ll spill their 
grievances 
into ink
fold the page 
unspoken. 

In each state 
our classrooms
brim with those 
who won’t take
a tough stand. 

Teachers love 
those who shout 
their hushed thoughts 
till someone 
says, SPEAK NOW! 

Glenda Funk
2-27-24

Glenda Funk

Fooey. My Canva didn’t post w/ the poem. 😩🤬

IMG_4092.jpeg
Barb Edler

Perfect background image, Glenda!

Nathan Chase

Glenda, I really like your poem and your frustration with students not speaking. Being a student myself I find it understandable, because I see the misery on professor’s face when they try to get the students to speak, and they are only met with blank stares.

Denise Krebs

Wow, Isn’t that the truth? There aren’t very many people I can be completely honest with, and when I was a student, even less. I was one who would “shout their hushed thoughts”. I love teachers who are able to hear all the opinions. That first stanza is my favorite. So much truth and I learned a new word: execrate Good photo choice for your Canva too.

Emily Martin

Oh, Glenda! “Shout their hushed thoughts”! These words fit together beautifully and are often so sadly true. I love to speak my now (I’m an 8 enneagram!) but I didn’t when I was a student.

Kim Johnson

Glenda, classrooms and families – – places where the hushed thoughts and lack of speaking are hotbeds for the stirring. Fabulous!

Barb Edler

Glenda, wow, your poem is powerful. I love the title which helps reflect the teachers who will not speak up to help solve the grievances that surround us. Who refuse to talk back to governors who want to ban books, refuse personal rights, and are working hard to destroy free public education. I appreciate the way you’ve formatted this poem and the words you’ve chosen to depict “Signifying Nothing” such as execrate, unspoken, hushed thoughts. “fold the page/unspoken” really resonated for me. I applaud your powerful poem and your willingness to speak up.

Angie

Hey Jessica, thanks for the prompt. Can totally relate to your poem. Thanks for sharing Claudia Rankine. I have been reading quite a few of her others, and wow. Powerful stuff.

Dear people who ask me why I’m so quiet,

This is not okay. It’s rude.
I’ve been asked that my whole life.
Every time it makes me feel 
like something is wrong with me. 
Did you know that?

Sometimes, if there is someone 
close to me around, 
relief fills my body 
when they say, 
“Angie? She’s not quiet!”
Because sometimes I’m not. 

If I start responding, 
“I was born that way” 
will you stop talking?
It’s just the way I am.

I’ve never asked a student that.
I understand the quiet ones.
I walk around the room or
sit at student desks
because I don’t want to be
the center of attention.
It’s why I even sit at the back 
of the room sometimes.

I don’t command conversations.
I still don’t know if that’s good or bad.
But I do know my best friends 
are the opposite of me 
and I can understand those 
who are like me.
It must not be all bad.

Dear people who tell me to smile,

This is not okay. It’s rude.
I’ve been told that my whole life.
And when I faked a smile for you
in response, I hope you noticed 
the blood beneath my face.
That wasn’t embarrassment,
it was rage.

Is that what you want? 
To add more fake and negative 
shit to this world? Because 
it ain’t making it truer or brighter.

I don’t want to flipping smile. 
When you told me that,
nothing was currently happening 
for me to smile. 
If I was smiling, 
it would have been hella…
weird.

No young person has ever told me that
which shows how much more they
sometimes know than adults.

I’ve never told anyone that. 
Sometimes I tell people I love their smile.
Maybe that might make a person smile
more. 
You should try it sometime.

Susan O

I do understand this, Angie. I am a quiet person as well. I think it is a necessary thing to be for some creative people. I’ve had people tell me to smile, etc. Now that I am older, I rage when a young person says “Can I help you?” I know they mean well but it implies that I am incapable.

Gayle Sands

I find it interesting that your exasperation grew as the poem progressed. I understand your anger (although I am the talkative one…). People need to let people be who they are and appreciate them for it.

Dave Wooley

Angie, I’m glad you were able to unload this weight. I can tend to be quiet too, and retreat into myself, so I understand the frustration that you have with that.

But that turn to “people who tell me to smile” is even more maddening, I think. I love your last stanza–it’s really redemptive.

Rita Kenefic

Ugh…forgot to type in my poem for today…

When Did It Change?

When did it change
When did this come to be
When did we lose the will to see
how others think and feel
what is fake and what is real?

When did truth become
false conspiracy
and our flag stood for the United States,
not a man who wants to “make things great?”

I think it began with an escalator ride
and a man inflated with too much pride.
The big question is, “How will it end?”
Can we save our democracy from a bitter end
and find good will and peace again?

Susan

This! Can we possibly have a decent, respectable democracy again? Your poem has great rhythm, especially

how others think and feel

what is fake and what is real?

Angie

“a man inflated with too much pride” yes indeed, so self absorbed it’s not even funny.

Denise Krebs

Rita, Amen! “The big question is, ‘How will it end?'” that and your final question are the big questions of our decade, probably our century. I hope we will choose wisely in November. Thank you for speaking out!

Kim Johnson

Rita, this:

When did truth become
false conspiracy
and our flag stood for the United States,
not a man who wants to “make things great?”

That is just a splendid middle stanza. And the title makes my head spin – – yes, yes, when?? When did it change?

Scott M

I guess I could
rant and rave
or maybe
harangue
and declaim
or even 
vehemently
vociferate
a diatribe
or two 
actually
articulate a
tirade with 
gesticulating 
hands waving 
angrily about
but I’ve found
that I might be
slumping into
my seniors’
default setting
of extreme

apathy

this lackluster
laissez faire
devil-may-care
attitude about
the world and
school and life
and graduating

maybe they’re
right maybe we
(teachers
parents
counselors
administrators
employers)
have got it
wrong 
got it all wrong
maybe
we don’t know
what we’re talking
about maybe
this diploma
thing is just
not quite worth
all this fuss
maybe
maybe
maybe

_________________________________________________

Jessica, thank you for this prompt and for your mentor poem!  “At the end of the day, I just want to feel like I matter.”  Yep, I love this simple truth.  For my offering, I still believe that that rolled up piece of paper is important, but my students are testing that “belief” on “the daily” it seems, lol.  (We’ll see, though, if they still believe that after seeing all the great advice yesterday’s prompt solicited! BWAHAHA! Now, all my future seniors are bound to graduate and be successful and productive (and happy) members of society!!)

(Side note: if you were able to stop by yesterday, thank you, again!  If you didn’t see my comment/thoughts on your piece, you should be able to see them now!)

Susan

Scott! Your word choice . . . how you portray so many different ways to rant and then shift and do the same with apathy. It seems in this world of extremes we do one or have the other. Your newly decorated classroom will shift all that apathy into action!

brcrandall

It is something, Scott. And then the debt of an education in higher education, and of course, the continued inequities of it all. Tricky to figure out the reasons we do as we do. I suppose it’s to create the next generation of those who try to fight the fire.

articulate a

tirade with 

gesticulating 

hands waving 

angrily about

I know this dance all too well.

Glenda Funk

Scott,
This generation received their first *graduation diploma* upon leaving kindergarten. Now the real thing is just another participation trophy to many.
Side Note: ‘Preciate your kind words about yesterday’s poem, even though you submitted your work late. 😜

Gayle Sands

so true. It is just one more trophy… Sad.

Nathan Chase

I was particularly fond of the rhythm and rhyme of your piece. Laissez fair Devil may care was such a strong line to show how apathetic people are becoming and ourselves included.

Gayle Sands

articulate a
tirade with 
gesticulating 
hands waving 
angrily about
but I’ve found
that I might be
slumping into
my seniors’
default setting
of extreme

apathy

I felt your slump into senior apathy at the break! (Okay, maybe metaphorically,. but…) These days, everyone is expected to graduate–I wonder if there really has been a change in attitude from (the old days) when the high school diploma was the ticket you needed for a good job. It do not envy your last slog into June…

Rita Kenefic

Jessica, There’s always the things that live in our hearts and need to be vented. Great prompt. Your insightful, clever poem so clearly conveys the difficulties and heartache of teachers today. Hope it improves.

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Jessica, this has been SOUND OFF WEEK. Your prompt invites us to think about what is really important to us and then let it out in the quiet shout of poetry.

HOW SHOULD WE BE SEEING?

Maybe we should sell re-SPECTACLES.
Something to wear when we really don’t care

Respect just means applying the Golden Rule
Someone not like us is not necessarily a fool
They have their beliefs and traditions
Folks need not need to be liked on the condition
That they like what we like and hate what we hate

Give them a moment to be heard
Then let differences fly away like a bird
Listen and learn is what we teach our kids
Doing the same can keep us off skids

Slipping into being mean
When we feel we are not seen
For the loving person we wish them to see

Maybe it’s time to just be
Wearing our re-SPECTACLES.

OPEN WRITE How Should We See 27 April 2024.jpg
Rita Kenefic

Oh, how I wish we could buy “re-spectacles”. This idea adds a touch of humor to a serious issue. My favorite lines are, “Folks need not need to be liked on the condition
That they like what we like and hate what we hate.” So true. I wish there was an easy answer, but I do believe, reading, writing, teaching, and speaking out are the magic ingredients that can change the world. Thanks for sharing.

Susan

You need to get a patent on those re-SPECTACLES! That would change the world. Your entire message is awesome, but I really appreciate

Folks need not need to be liked on the condition

That they like what we like and hate what we hate

Glenda Funk

Anna,
I love everything about your poem today. “Re-SPECTACLES” is brilliant.

Sharon Roy

Slipping into being mean

When we feel we are not seen

For the loving person we wish them to see

So much truth and wisdom in your poem, Anna.



Denise Krebs

Jessica, what an invitation. I appreciate your honesty in your poem. Oh, my goodness, that last line: “There’s not enough money in the world to mask the screams that make glass shatter.” Ouch. There are always things to sound off about, aren’t there? Today, I am forgoing sounding off about the tedious process of removing 40-year-old vinyl tile from our floors, as I’m stuck in the middle of it and don’t want to be reminded. Instead, I just read an article by Robert Reich, “Elon Musk’s Grotesque Distortion of Capitalism” So I am channeling Reich’s sounding off, as this is mostly a found poem.

All About Money
for mercurial idiot savant
unprincipled robber baron
sociopathic leader who
demands vast
wealth and power
scoffs at norms
wants total control
no regard for anyone
but self–demanding $47
billion salary package
with threats if they don’t.

Tesla laid off 14,000
without warning
(parking key didn’t work
one day)
minimum severance package
with stipulations–
no lawsuit
or arbitration
or publicly defaming
Tesla.

American capitalism
coming apart because
of people like Musk,
extorting shareholders
and shafting workers

Rita Kenefic

Wow, Denise, just Wow! You pack so much into this brief poem that calls me to keep rereading it.

Susan

Denise,
Thanks for sharing so much about Musk. I tend to shelter myself from knowing much about people like him. Your poem is eye-opening!

Glenda Funk

Denise,
Theres much to rant about on the topic of Elon Musk I love the specificity echoing the Gilded Age in these lines:
unprincipled robber baron
sociopathic leader.”
Your poem reminds me of a post on Threads that someone copied from the dead bird app. Enjoy.

IMG_4093.jpeg
Kim Johnson

Denise, your writing on days like this helps me see the kind, soft-spoken Denise come out swinging, ready to defend and defeat. And win. Someone lit a spark today, and your poem is on fire! Go Denise!

Barb Edler

Denise, fantastic poem. I love the way you layer the details of this “unprincipled robber baron” . The laying off 14,000 workers was especially damning. I also thought “extorting shareholders/and shafting workers” screamed injustice and sociopathic behavior. When will we begin to understand that capitalism is a threat to our planet and living healthy lives? Your poem echoes with an anger I feel, too! Thank you for sharing your powerful voice and incredible poem full of righteous fury!

Stacey L. Joy

Wow, Denise, this is hitting home! I find myself shouting on the road (to myself) by some of the people who seem to think they own the road. I am not going to generalize, but I’ve had two near-accidents in the past month due to Tesla drivers who don’t care to look before changing lanes on the freeway. If anyone here drives a Tesla, I love you but I don’t love the rest of the Tesla fools who can’t drive.

That just turned into a rant that could’ve been another poem. 🤣

Shame on Musk!

Gayle Sands

There is so much right with this poem, and so much wrong with the reason for it…

Ona

Decisions are made
Around you?
By you?
You don’t know
You won’t say

I wonder, are you
a master manipulator
Or just a clueless pawn
In this sleazy game where the
Emperor has no clothes?

I’ve already learned this
Lesson, been burned
before by letting jerks
Manipulate the truth
Said I’d never do that again

Said I’d listen to my instincts
And here we are
With you in charge
At a quiet standstill
The idiots are winning

I have sarcastic things to say
Questions I want to ask
For instance, did you know
Not only does he not have clothes,
But that isn’t the Emperor anyway?

Denise Krebs

Ona, I love this unnamed, but not unidentified group of decision makers. So much truth here!

Rita Kenefic

You hit the nail on the head with this, Ona. “The idiots are winning” speaks to the sentiments of many I knew. We shake our heads and ask, “how could this be?” You’re last two lines speak forcefully and truthfully. Great job.

Glenda Funk

I’m always ready for a good The Emperor Has No Clothes allusion. These lines do that for me:
“I wonder, are you
a master manipulator
Or just a clueless pawn
In this sleazy game where the
Emperor has no clothes?”
Now who is this would be emperor? Is it Orangey? Ryan Walters? Someone you know personally? That’s what I want to know now.

Ashley

Jessica,

Your poem captured all of the frustrations of teaching when parent’s don’t have our backs. It is so hard.

Click-clack, drop the attack
Hit send, but they can take it back
If the narrative switches, if they decide
Hit delete, ignore the mudslide
Or leave it, wait, watch, and stalk
Preying on insecurities as they mock
Their body, their mind, their pain
But who gives a damn or has shame
Behind a keyboard they can’t see you
user2342198 shrouded in pseudo virtue
They go about their day, obsessively check
Waiting for the aftermath, praying for a wreck
An evil smirk spreads across their face
As commenter’s responses attack the snake
But like a Hydra, more heads will sprout
A dangerous landscape full of self-doubt
AI generated realities and filtered faces
Destroying self-image, stripping them naked
Of any defense against a faceless enemy
Unless by some kind of magical alchemy
I can plant seeds of self-worth and resilience
Make sure they see their diamond shined brilliance
I have to admit this is what I fear
The keyboard warriors’ malicious leer
I can’t fight them if their gaze should befall
The three people for who I could give my all
How do I protect my children from
The keyboard warriors taunting drums?

Joanne Emery

Ashley – this is so powerful. I was reading as an adult and nodding my head all the way through. Then your ending made my mind shift to your children and the social media demons, and your poem rose up and became a giant protective presence. There must be away to keep children safe from the onslaught. Glad to have this supportive community.

Rita Kenefic

Ashley, you have crafted such a power-packed poem that shines a light on the dangers of technology, especially for our children. Well done!

Glenda Funk

Ashley,
This is brilliant, a warning to those who embrace AI, a justified worry from a mom. Love the rhyme and the excellent allusion to Hydra. Wish I’d thought of that. Fantastic poem.

Joanne Emery

Thank you, Jessica, for this prompt. It had me thinking and reading and thinking. I have writer’s block this morning. This past week at school has been so busy that my mind is having a hard time finding the poetry.

Do you Know?

Do you know
a mind
that is blank,
that races
so fast,
it forgets
to think?

Do you know
a mind
that has
stories to tell,
dreams to
reveal, but
can’t sit
still long
enough
to write
them down?

Do you know
a mind
that has
so many
thoughts
but just
can’t pin
one
down?

Well, here is
a piece
of my mind.

Ashley

Joanne,
Your honesty shines through and is so comforting for those moments where we just can’t turn it “on”

Denise Krebs

Joanne, you are on fire this month! I loved this from the beginning, but that ending stanza is just the best.

Rita Kenefic

Joanne, Clearly your writers block vanished. This verse brought to mind all the children that have such difficulty focusing, learning, responding. Those that struggle because of “so many thoughts but just can’t pin one down.” Thanks for sharing this piece of your mind.

Angie

Joanne, I think this could also be a poster in Scott’s room. I love the ending as well.

Susan O

I can picture you in this whirl of a day without time to sit long enough. You describe it perfectly. Hope the weekend gives you a bit of respite.

Glenda Funk

Joanne,
I imagine this group is full of folks trying to “pin down” their thoughts and trying to tame their racing minds. I certainly feel a kinship w/ your poem today.

Tammi Belko

Jessica — I can relate to your poem. Student behavior has been an issue at our school for awhile as well. And when parent support is nil our jobs become even more challenging.
Agree with this line especially, “At the end of the day, I just want to feel like I matter.”

Just want to note, that while the scenario in my poem did occur yesterday, no one was injured.

Just Be Considerate People!

Just Be Considerate People!

The crosswalk, 
safe passage for the pedestrian out for a stroll
navigating sweet suburban traffic
basking in temperate April sun
inhaling fresh spring air,
fragrant dogwood petals swirling,
a breathing canvas of bloom …

Stops at the crosswalk.

The pedestrian has the right of way
The Stop sign is Not a suggestion (driving manual 101)!
The Stop sign does Not mean look at pedestrian,
music thumping, as you chuckle — is something funny?–
and glance at your buds in the backseat.
Does Not mean a rolling stop,
oblivious to the person waiting patiently 
to cross.

Pedestrians can’t win this match,
Shouldn’t need to play chicken with cars.

Because the crosswalk is safe passage.

Barb Edler

Tammi, “navigating sweet suburban traffic” is such a terrific set-u for the second half of your poem. I agree that pedestrians should find safe passage at the crosswalk, and I despise the drivers who deem walkers and bikers like they are wannabe roadkill. I appreciated how you bolded not which emphasized the poor behaviors well. Powerful poem.

brcrandall

Jessica, the #verselove prompt comes on a Saturday morning where I’m catching up on emails from teachers who are doing all they can to protect and help their students. It’s not difficult for educators to find items to strike a nerve, especially in today’s current environment. Teachers matter. Kids matter. Joy matters.

The Deficits are Designed to Construct Us
b.r.crandall, ‘24

¿Cómo leo esto, señora?.

They’re being tested in English again,
measuring the worth of kids…
These men & women who love their suits,
& the well-established labels they use to sort children, 
to name them, to arrive to conclusions 
of inequity, poverty, & the lack of resources
they’ve institutionalized with government funding 
& traditions of higher ed.

Isso está me dando dor de cabeça.

Dear Underpaid Teachers, 
the materials were built & packaged 
by Pearson in a state-of-the-art 
suburban lab, and stored in district offices
before the testing window
& press conferences ahead.
We promise. It will be all over the news.
Moms for Liberty are already preparing 
another campaign of Smarter Assessment 
to assure our systems remain (im)Balanced. 

Quel est le problème avec les États-Unis?
The gift was meant to be misunderstood…
…liberty, and the pursuit of happiness
is just a statue for the urban skyline

Tammi Belko

Bryan — You’re sound off poem has me riled up! As your words are the sad truth!
This —
“We promise. It will be all over the news.
Moms for Liberty are already preparing 
another campaign of Smarter Assessment 
to assure our systems remain (im)Balanced”

— infuriates me! If the Mom’s for Liberty agenda continues to gain traction, so much harm will come to our students.

Ashley

Bryan,

Your poem is the protest against the unfair treatment and imbalance of power. These assessments have so much power and you hit the nail on the head in this poem with how many problems there are with this broken system.

Kim Johnson

Bryan, preach! I wish this would go viral on TikTok, newsflash style. Perhaps with all the artificial intelligence coming out, they’ll figure out how to offer artificial testing, too, and then we can all get about the business of true living.

Barb Edler

Bryan, wow, I applaud your poem today. I love how you open with a clear, direct action and the way you describe the people who are behind the desire to test in order to label children. Your tone is striking and really comes through with “Dear Underpaid Teachers”. Your final stanza is riveting and love your metaphor. Your poem shouts the unfairness of this world where finding a meal and someone who cares is probably worth a lot more than a standardized score. Hope you’re able to share this with a wide audience!

Stacey L. Joy

These men & women who love their suits,

& the well-established labels they use to sort children, 

to name them, to arrive to conclusions 

of inequity, poverty, & the lack of resources

Maybe I will never wear a suit again, I get why I don’t even think about it.

The final stanza is PERFECTION and should be on billboards…the gigantic electronic ones!

Love this, Bryan!

Cheri Mann

I fell off the map at some point this month. Being inconsistent led me to forget about this challenge altogether. But I remembered on this lazy Saturday morning and appreciate the opportunity to vent about two of the things that make me crazy.

The world does not need
your extra apostrophe’s,
cluttered as it already is
with seductive selfie’s
soliciting like’s.

brcrandall

Love this, Cheri. It would be a GREAT poetic poster for Scott’s prompt yesterday. What beautiful jewelry the apostrophe makes.

Cheri Mann

Wow. I hadn’t looked at yesterday’s prompt, but it does fit so well.

Denise Krebs

Oh, Cheri! I’m so glad to see you back here with this magical gem. Wow. It is perfect, and it also would have been a great poem for yesterday’s prompt–a poem to hang up on a high school classroom. In so few word’s you sounded off about two thing’s! Masterful!

Angie

So good, Cheri. I feel like I’ve been teaching proper apostrophe use too much these days. Like, why? Why are they everywhere??

Cheri Mann

And the proper use of the $ before the number. That’s a whole other poem.

Stacey L. Joy

I agree with Bryan! This is a perfect poster for a classroom! My pet peeve is the extra apostrophes!

Maureen Y Ingram

Jessica, this prompt rocks! Just the vent I needed today – heading to a big meeting…well, enough said.

do you know this person?

unable to imagine another perspective
needing things exactly as before
refusing to listen to others
insisting they are right
hoarding the mic
repeating repeating repeating
wearing everyone down
gumming up the process

they may not be stomping their feet
or prone on the floor, wailing
it is a tantrum, all the same

they hold the future 
like a toddler 

brcrandall

Know this person? Aren’t you describing “educational leadership” at its core? The prompt rocks, and so does your poem, Maureen.

Denise Krebs

Maureen, I know it must have been difficult to be there, but I’m glad a sane witness can testify about it and maybe suggest an election day switch (?) Those last two lines are haunting and true in so many areas of life.

Joanne Emery

Oh I love this, Maureen! The last lines – they hold the future like a toddler – that simile is so powerful!

Rita Kenefic

Maureen, You captured the essence of far too many people. I love the last two lines…so true!

Susan O

I have to laugh because this poem describes me well right now. I know you are referring to education but I am adjusting to having my sister live with me. I have found out that I am very stubborn to change. Your poem reminds me not to act like a toddler. Thanks.

Nathan Chase

Muareen, I really like your message about people who are obsessed with stagnation the comparison to a toddler feels so right.

Kim Johnson

Oh, I love the title, Maureen! Indeed…..this person and this person and this person and this person. You draw the complete picture here. It doesn’t have to be a full-fledged hissy fit to be a sure enough tantrum.

Stacey L. Joy

Icky person!

Susan

Jessica,
Your poem hit my heart, especially the line

At the end of the day, I just want to feel like I matter,

You said “sound off” so sound off I did. I was going to revise it down, but I just decided to post as is.

Rant and Rave (With an Aside of Hurt and Disappointment) 

They wonder why teachers are leaving in droves
and education programs in colleges are bare,
In our small district in the past five years,
at least ten teachers somewhat new to the field
have left for greener pastures 
and another ten have retired the second they hit 55.

I find myself wanting to rant about “kids these days”–
meaning the young teachers–and how they don’t 
have what it takes or know how to work so they 
simply can’t cut it and they leave.
And I wish that was the case.  
But one of those “kids these days” is our daughter.
And I have had a front row seat to how hard she works
and the sacrifices she makes and the passion she has
and the rapport she has built. 
She gets it.  She simply gets it.

But, a month ago, she, too, walked away.  
The child of two teachers, in an extended family 
replete with educators, she wanted this from the start.
She’s a born teacher.  
Everyone who encountered her saw her gift
and celebrated it. 

She put in the hours; she had content knowledge coupled 
with savvy in classroom management wrapped up 
a bow of diverse instructional techniques. 
She had it all.
She’s not money driven.
She wants to impact society.
She loves kids, most especially those with the odds 
stacked against them.
If ever there was a lifer, it was her.

Until corporate America came a-calling.
They dangled a salary two and half times more,
a corporate credit card and expense account,
a hybrid schedule, travel, 
unlimited PTO, stock options, matching 401.  
And respect.

No mouthy teens
No defensive parents
No ridiculous policies driven by lawmakers who never
stepped foot in a school, except as a student.
No more working within a microcosm
of society’s ills 
where the adults are overworked,
underpaid, 
underappreciated
and expected to wear all the hats 
the other adults in the kids’ lives choose not to . . . 
parent, social worker, nurse, therapist, career counselor,
financial aid advisor, nutritionist
all the while being 
a comedian/rock start/ringmaster/influencer/Youtuber
just to keep their attention in hopes they might actually learn.

Surrounded by friends and classmates and family 
who “work from home” or “remotely” or not at all,
who don’t leave a building every day completely exhausted
with no energy remaining for their “life” . . .
she swallowed the bait and the lure
of greener pastures
and hasn’t looked back.

I felt hurt and disappointment.  
The pride I felt at having a daughter follow in my footsteps
was mighty.  
And I loved talking shop with her.  
I knew kids were in good hands with her.
I was sad.  
I love my profession and wanted her to as well.
I wanted the “family business” to continue to be passed down.

(Note the number of first-person pronouns in that stanza?
I decided I couldn’t make it about me and changed perspective)

She has an hour-long lunch on days she goes in.
She leaves the office at the office, fully enjoying her evenings 
with no papers to grade or plans to pull together.
She has joined Mentors for Youth and hopes to change one kid’s life 
instead of beating her head against the classroom wall filled with 34 
lives that feel impossible to change.
She continues to coach volleyball, a passion or hers that will keep her around kids.
And she looks happier and healthier than I have seen her in four years.

I’ve spent 36.5 years in a classroom.  
It’s the best of all possible vocations.  
It’s a perfect profession for a working mom.
It offers a fulfillment that few jobs do.

But I may just need to change those verbs to past tense.
If things don’t change, 
It won’t be the best, most perfect, more fulfilling anything.

My plea . . .
See their value, honor their value, shut out the lawmakers and moneyseekers
and let teachers teach while making them feel seen and valued.
It’s such an important job. 
Restore its dignity and worth so people WANT to do it
and interviews are actually competitive and the line for jobs is long
Make it so lifers stay, so we aren’t yet another profession where
people change jobs 7-10 times over the course of their life.

Rant over.  
What will classrooms be like in 15 years? 
If things don’t change, 
they may be empty.

~Susan Ahlbrand
27 April 2024

Maureen Y Ingram

I read every line and I just want to give you a hug. That is a lot. I feel your pain. I have two sons who are teachers, one, brand new – and it is very challenging work. I love talking shop with them. It is so great that “she looks happier and healthier” and she will continue to be a mentor to youth. Bravo for her!

brcrandall

Susan, Rant on.

And I have had a front row seat to how hard she works

and the sacrifices she makes and the passion she has

and the rapport she has built. 

There are many in this forum that are seeing the validity and truth in your words. The profession has always been a challenge, but the relationships were worth it. It is something right now, and all I know how to do is rant poetically as you do.

Denise Krebs

Oh Susan, this is a rant that you are so qualified to write. Can it become a letter to the editor? Wow, you have captors so much truth. I’m happy and sad for your daughter. But your last question is haunting. And this seems like a great place to start… The worth part could be easy if we could somehow revamp our financial priorities.

Restore its dignity and worth so people WANT to do it

Tammi Belko

Susan
I feel this rant and agree with every line. Everyone thinks they can do our jobs but they have no idea what our jobs entail unless they are in the trenches with us.
I completely understand why young people are looking for careers in “greener pastures.”

This resonated —
“where the adults are overworked,
underpaid, 
underappreciated
and expected to wear all the hats 
the other adults in the kids’ lives choose not to . . . 
parent, social worker, nurse, therapist, career counselor,
financial aid advisor, nutritionist…”
 

Rita Kenefic

Susan, This “rant” is so well-crafted and encompasses so much that needs to be addressed in education today. May I encourage you to “get it out there” because your words need to be heard and people need to realize that the teaching profession is losing the best and brightest. “The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world,” but we can extend this idea to the educators that teach and nurture our children. The loss of fine teachers will have far-reaching negative effects. On a personal note, my daughter is an educator. We actually taught together for five years when she first graduated from college. I felt like you were describing her when you described your daughter. Three years ago, my daughter took a leadership position as Director of ELA and Title 1, K through 12. The district compressed two job into one. It has been tough, but she has done a great job. This year, she was on the cusp of leaving but the district did decide to amend her work load and hire more help. At any rate, I can sympathize with your feelings about your daughter leaving the profession, but it sounds like you are finding your peace and your voice to speak out so this does not continue to occur.

Angie

Wow, what a story. It’s sad that she left for a “better” job. Simple as that, just better. Not that she made that decision but that those benefits don’t exist for educators.

Kim Johnson

Susan, truth is all over this from every vantage point – – the pride of family, the hard work and passing of the torch, the shop talk, the frustrations and the fulfillment of teaching. More than anything, I’m so glad you encourage her to follow her heart. When someone once asked my oldest child if she wanted to be a teacher, she didn’t miss a beat. “No,” she replied. “I see what my mom goes through.” I’m thankful too that your daughter had the courage to step away from the classroom but still find ways to make a difference in the lives of children. Life is never easy, but it’s so much better when we have family there beside us supporting us even when we might make a different choice. Hugging you, friend, and understanding – — I, too, have had these moments.

Barb Edler

Susan, everything you have shared in this poem is exactly how I feel. I love your plea and the closing question is one I think people need to seriously discuss. I truly feel there is a concerted effort to end public education. I could go on with examples, but I just loved reading this as it spoke to so many of my own concerns.

Sharon Roy

Susan,

So much sad truth in your poem. I’ve been teaching for thirty years and my younger colleagues often tell me that they can’t imagine how I’ve done so for so long. They can’t see themselves teaching for much longer. They don’t consider it a sustainable career. That makes me sad. Our school has felt the effects of losing more teachers than usual the last few years. It’s hard to maintain a school’s culture and continuity when there’s teacher turnover.

Your poem is beautifully written with such awareness of what you are feeling and why and compassion for everyone involved–except mabe those lawmakers who are making it so hard for us.

No mouthy teens

No defensive parents

No ridiculous policies driven by lawmakers who never

stepped foot in a school, except as a student.

No more working within a microcosm

of society’s ills 

where the adults are overworked,

underpaid, 

underappreciated

and expected to wear all the hats 

the other adults in the kids’ lives choose not to . . . 

parent, social worker, nurse, therapist, career counselor,

financial aid advisor, nutritionist

all the while being 

a comedian/rock start/ringmaster/influencer/Youtuber

just to keep their attention in hopes they might actually learn.

Would that the poets and teachers ran the world.

Scott M

Susan, I echo everyone else’s sentiments, too. Thank you for sharing this with us.

Margaret Simon

Jessica, You bring to light such a common problem these days. Who really is to blame? teacher? parent? child? society? Covid? We try to make all of them excuses. I wrote today in my journal how all I really ever want is to be significant. Often we don’t know we are until much later.
I am sitting on my back deck protecting the cat food from an invader.

Invader

Every day
every night
the masked demon
comes for the cat food.

I “Scat!”
Tell him he is Not a Pet!
“Git!”
He looks at me

with hungry eyes
like the children
in car rider line–

Please Save Me
from my life
of being discarded.

Christine Baldiga

Margaret, I am left feeling empty reading these words. I read and reread your verse and found so much that touched, moved and even hurt me. Thank you for these words making me think…

Maureen Y Ingram

This speaks on many levels; the pain of “my life; of being discarded.” We draw lines on who to take care of, who to avoid. Very, very sad and honest. The rawness of living.

Joanne Emery

Margaret – I can see this moment vividly and hear the plea of the last stanza: Please Save Me from my life of being discarded.

Kim Johnson

Margaret, what an image! the hungry eyes of one who wants to eat – – if ever anything tugs at my heartstrings, here it is – – a hungry animal who must do what it must do to survive. You bring all the feels today, wishing it would leave and wanting to feed it too.

Glenda Funk

Margaret,
LOL! This reminds me of that raccoon Susie shared FB posts about a couple years ago. Poor kitty.

Barb Edler

Margaret, I love the title of your poem, how you show your actions, and your plea at the end. Your opening comments to Jessica were particularly moving for me. I also just want to feel significant. Too often I feel trampled, and especially when I was teaching, working hard to try to make a difference and feeling like I was just hitting my head some days against a brick wall. Feeling discarded is demoralizing for sure, and I love how you emphasized that message with placing those words on your final line. Compelling and relatable poem! “Scat” is a striking word choice.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Jessica, this is a cathartic offering this morning. We are coming off of two really rough weeks at school and it has been draining. My writing could have gone so many ways but once this was written, it felt like enough. Thank you for a great mentor poem. You’ve captured what teachers are feeling. And April seems like the month to let it all go.

She Said No

And she meant it the first time

Emily Cohn

Oh my goodness.
yes, please!!!
I love the white hot or freeze out anger in this brief tribute to boundary setting. Hallelujah!! They keep kids feeling safe, but spring boundary testing is real. I hear you! Enjoy a weekend off!!

Cheri Mann

Perfect. The length of your poem supports the idea that a simple No should be enough.

Maureen Y Ingram

Fantastic! Bravo to the her NO.

Kim Johnson

Jennifer, these two lines hold a world of violating and testing and backside-aching, at least for me. Two lines. Ten syllables. A world of memories. Perfection.

Stacey L. Joy

“No is a complete sentence.”

I stand with you!

Emily Cohn

Jessica, thank you for sharing the mentor poem and your own poem. I’ve had years like that where the disrespect was wild, and it eats at us, which you illustrate in your last line so well. It’s hard to hold it all in! While the world is a crazy place with lots to sound off on, I didn’t have to look farther than my dining room table for anger today! Thanks for the opportunity to express it today!

Mess

I’m searching for tape
And it’s buried in mess
Piles: churning and careless

Hats, crumpled sweater, batteries, mortgage statements,
screws, paperclips, stickers, printer ink, bags of coffee,
box of almonds (hello! allergies!), red pepper from pizza,
headphones, chargers, notebook, textbook,
legos, therapy balls, lists on envelopes, checks

It’s
all
too
much.

Don’t you remember my home?
A turf war of stuff and who can put what where?
Stacks and stacks and stacks and stacks
From an intelligent, loving, capable hoarder and his frustrated wife?
Where only trusted friends can see parts of me, and my house?

Can’t you just… be better than that?

Sigh.
It’s my own stuff
about stuff
to own.

But clean up the table, man!

Christine Baldiga

A vent shared by many! How easily the stuff piles up. And you left us with orders! Thank you for voicing my inner cries! Great poem!

Leilya Pitre

Emily, I understand and “hear” your frustration through this poem. “It’s / all/ too / much” signals that you had enough.
This could be a poem about my husband and his daughters’ house when we first arrived. Lots of work and talk, and now it’s just two of us. He has his office (we keep the door closed) where I only mop the visible part of the floor; the rest of the house is under my care, neat and comfortable. I do pick up his stuff from time to time, but it is so much better.

Margaret Simon

I hear you, loud and clear. So often it is our own s*&%t that buries us, over and over.

Maureen Y Ingram

Your pain is raw and visceral, made clear by the single word lines of

It’s

all

too

much.

From the view of a retired person, an empty dining room table comes in time. There are years when work is hard and overwhelming, and I simply needed one other adult, one more set of hands, to bring order.

Kim Johnson

Jessica, the days of being able to let loose and let what comes up come out are so cathartic to me. In a world where we live in professional walls and as best practice have to guard our tongues and reactions, it’s nice to not have to color the lens and just spout off, sound off, let rip. To not have to mask the screams of the glass that shatters…..wow, just wow! Thank. you for hosting us and for letting me sound off today.

Burning Realms

his whole realm
went up in smoke
ashes of trust
soot of believability
smoldering memories 
of the way
upon-a-times 
once were
the day he
struck the sulfury
match 
burning an
entire
kingdom to the
ground
starting with
his own
castle

Susan

Kim,
This is definitely a sounding off, but much more subtly than I suspect most will be. The way you carry the extended metaphor through the poem with “smoke, ashes, soot, smoldering, sulfury, match, burning” has tremendous power.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Kim, Wow! This is incredible! Everything about this, from the extended metaphor and word choices to the imagery brought into being. I can’t help but see the word fury in sulfury, and it’s exactly how I’m feeling. But it’s these lines “upon-a-times/once were,” and their tangling with one another and the rewording smack in the middle that shows just how messed up he (and the situation) is. Expertly crafted!

Margaret Simon

All those fire words, ashes, smoldering, match, burning…wow! A powerful sound off!

Maureen Y Ingram

The metaphor of fire throughout…oh my, it adds heat to every line (pun intended). Also love the realm/once-upon-a-time/kingdom/castle – the calamitous end of a fairy tale. Very sad poem, beautifully written.

brcrandall

Kim, it is something, ain’t it?

burning an

entire

kingdom to the

ground

I’ve been thinking of Hegel more than ever….wondering if the seed was bared, and we’re now living the destruction. Phew. This prompt has all of us at the core of our frustrations.

Rita Kenefic

Kim, This is a powerful poem that makes me want to know more. The subtlety and strong feelings tell me there’s a heartbreaking story underneath. Hope he can rebuild his kingdom.

Glenda Funk

Kim,
I honestly question the idea that it’s “best practices to guard our tongues.” That doesn’t mean I think it’s okay to spew word vomit, but I think this pursing of lips among educators for decades has contributed to the struggles many face now. There’s power in the collective, and we see that in unionized states. So I read these final lines—
burning an
entire
kingdom to the
ground
starting with
his own
castle”—-
with that idea in mind.
I do love the calling out in your poem and the way it rises into a 🔥 of words as I read.

Barb Edler

Kim, I feel the anger here, and the powerful ways in which we can self-destruct. When we feel our world pulled out from under us and there are only ashes of trust, it’s devastating. Love the way your poem carries us to the final point: “starting with/his own/castle”. Powerful poem!

Stacey L. Joy

Kim,
This is my reaction to this work of poetic artistry:
🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣🔥💣

Boom!

Fran Haley

Kim, everything here, unique word order and all, falls in perfect place, building for the final impact of this man burning the entire realm beginning with his own castle. There would be sympathy, but midway through we see he struck the “sulfury match” himself…a horror of destruction, and one wonders…did he destroy his angry loveless self, too? I think of Jadis in Lewis’s The Magician’s Nephew – she “paid a great price” to learn the Deplorable Word that she used to destroy every living thing in that world. Here is the evil ending of such a terrible thirst for control… your poem, and these phrases I love, “soot of believability” and “smoldering memories,” are profound.

Denise Krebs

Kim, so many powerful fiery images:

ashes…

soot…

smoldering…

and especially…

the day he

struck the sulfury

match 

This is such an image of someone burning down his whole kingdom, starting with his own castle.

Christine Baldiga

Jessica, thank you for this Saturday morning challenge. The line “at the end of the day, I just want to feel like I matter” is ringing true in my ear today.
Ive been thinking lately about how money buys privilege, especially here in the US. Last night we hosted a fundraiser for our twin parish in Haiti, a place with little to no privilege unless you have money. A song came into my head so I’m using the words to form my Golden Shovel draft.

Money Talks

Money provides privileges and
Makes others wait in line for 
The opportunities they need. The
World needs realignment to
Go forth, providing everyone
Round the world with basic needs

Susan

Christine,
A perfect Golden Shovel. And the lines you build off it speak such truth.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Christine, I’m struck by how the hierarchy of a monetary focus creates a pyramid structure that requires the base to support the top yet your chosen golden shovel line ends with the word round. I’ve never thought about these words in terms of shape until you placed them in this way, and that circle connotes so much – softness, fullness, completeness, a caring that is harder to find in the sharper shapes of a triangle. Lovely poem.

Margaret Simon

I see this in my own community, but know that it is so much worse in other countries like Haiti. And we even wonder if our small efforts will make a difference.

Rita Kenefic

So much truth within this golden shovel poem.

Angie

This is amazing, Christine. So well put together and powerful. I’ve been hearing about Haiti more and more. Their situation is so unfortunate.

Stacey L. Joy

Christine,
I love it and whole-heartedly agree. But I am also hearing in the background the “love of money is the root of evil” so perhaps one day the realignment you write of will come to pass.

Thank you for giving me hope that one day everyone will be well cared for.

Saba T.

Hey Jessica. What a strong poem – the last line packs a punch.

Where do I want to be?
Sitting on the window sill,
In a library full of mahogany shelves,
Reading some obscure novel
About an assassin caught in an ethical dilemma,
While my peers walk on by me,
Whisper-discussing Chaucer & Monet & Dave Grohl.

Where am I really?
Sitting on my desk on a Saturday,
Ignoring texts & emails from work,
Staving off thoughts of lesson plans,
Because self-care is what we make of it,
Writing poetry to keep the wonder alive as I
Daydream my dark academia dreams.

Emily Cohn

Saba, yes! I like this. Those works tasks can feel painful, and we deeply need our rest. I like your imagery of that library, with the obscure book, mahogany, and intriguing whispers. I hope you get there in some way!!

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Saba, beautiful. I can feel the caring in this poem (and also the stress of what’s demanding our attention constantly). I can envision this exact window seat. I love that phrase whisper-discussing of the greats and intellectuals as it emphasizes that we need to set them aside just as we set aside our work to make of our time what we will!

Christine Baldiga

“Writing poetry to keep the wonder alive” is singing out to me this morning. April has certainly shown that to me. May you stave off texts and emails a little longer this weekend

Margaret Simon

I strongly believe in self-care, especially on Saturdays. Take the time you need o recharge and write poetry.

Stacey L. Joy

Saba,

I am right there with you! I can’t remember when a weekend was not consumed with work. Today, I was on a district zoom from 8-1 and now I’m enjoying poetry time. I will try my best not to work anymore today. But tomorrow still comes.

Writing poetry to keep the wonder alive as I

Daydream my dark academia dreams.

Fran Haley

Sometimes I think writing poetry keeps us alive, Saba….Chaucer and Monet and & Dave Grohl will come to meet you right there. Lovely flow to your verse – the italics enhance it.

Fran Haley

Jessica, thank you for the invitation to “sound off” in verse today. In your poem, the line about the death of hopes, dreams, and wishes struck me deeply. We went into this work to be difference makers, to help provide a hope and a future, shall we say, for the next generations – really, for us all. Then we find ourselves caught between the colossal grindstones of systems and society’s blatant disrespect…I know it’s not everyone, everywhere, but it’s there, and it destroys. It is depleting. Was just talking to a colleague about this yesterday – she’s asked for help all year with behaviors and has been given verbal pats on the back that she’s been doing well when she knows she hasn’t been able to be the teacher she truly is… I could keep going, but: Thank you for your voice.

I wanted to write an acrostic on “dichotomy” and had to make myself settle for haiku, for now.

What’s dichotomy?
The forked tongue of words and acts
that do not agree.

Saba T.

Fran, your haiku is so perfect & succinct. Thank you for sharing!

Susan

This says so much in so few words, Fran. That takes great skill. I’m sure your acrostic could be great, but this packs a lot of power as is!

Leilya Pitre

Fran, sometimes less is more. I love the image of dichotomy as “the forked tongue.” This is such a neat observation. Thank you!

Margaret Simon

forked tongue, indeed.

Rita Kenefic

Spot on, Fran!

Kim Johnson

Fran, the haiku is a powerful form for today. I thought about it, as I always love a haiku, and it may have held my tongue a little better than just free form spewing like I did, but once I started pouring I poured and poured. The haiku here reveals an issue and keeps it universal enough to be like words of wisdom and advice and also specific enough to know someone is being dichotomous.

Barb Edler

Fran, wow, what a fantastic haiku that shows what dichotomy means in just a few words. Loved the image of “forked tongue”. Brilliant poem!

Kevin

Shrinkflation. You know it.
Kevin

Someday I just might
take up her challenge
response to my complaint

to systematically
count every
single potato
chip in the bag

to calculate
the ratio of
empty air space
to product

to plot out
the reduction
of weight to
cost over time

She just laughs and tosses
the bag into the carriage,
as we head to the checkout line

Susie Morice

Kevin – I recently had a conversation with someone about “shrinkflation”! It is such a sleazy practice. And your poem nails your irritation… counting chips in a bag and all that hot air! Ha! I feel your outrage. The word “plot” is very purposeful. And you said it all with so few words, fewer than I might have expected . A perfect mirror to the practice. Genius! Wonderful poem. Unlike shrinkflation, though, you’ve given us delight and so much more with fewer words than we may have bargained for. Love it! Susie

Fran Haley

Kevin, it sometimes seems like there are four and a half chips in the bags. The idea of the calculations amuses me but still…shrinkflation is REAL.

Saba T.

Kevin, I love this poem!
Funnily enough, I opened a bag of Fritos a few days ago and it was ACTUALLY full. Might’ve been a mistake on their part. But… What a shock! What a joy! 😀

Susan

Shrinkflation . . . so real. My husband got a Filet O Fish at McDonald’s the other day. I hadn’t seen one for years, but I was instantly taken aback by how much smaller it was than I remember. Now, I know that there are times our memories are not very reliable, but I’m sure this is yet another example of what you eloquently express in your poem.

Leilya Pitre

Kevin, this is a true complaint. Good thing I am not a chip eater, but a coffee drinker. I make it at home, and it is quite expensive.
Your poem cadence seems slowing down in each staza begining with “to”– to systematically count, to calculate, to plot out. Then the final stanza picks up the pace as a realization of something like “it is what it is.” Great word choices!

Margaret Simon

I love this for its realistic humor. And a little intimate look at a relationship.

Joanne Emery

Kevin – this is wonderful and true. The price goes up the bag gets smaller, the chip quantity gets smaller, our appetites grow bigger!.

brcrandall

I want to go grocery shopping with you, Kevin. I’d calculate &

 plot out

the reduction

of weight to

cost

with you any time. Get thee to a Wegmans and buy their store brand. I’m amazed that they continue to maintain their commercial integrity (at least with the chips)

Stacey L. Joy

Kevin,
Yes, yes! I am guilty of consuming far too many Lightly Salted BBQ Lays on a regular basis. It’s times like these when I say, well it’s not like the bag was full! LOL!

Thank you for this treat today. Maybe I’ll take a chip or two or twenty with my lunch.🤣

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