Succinct Truth Inspired by Lucille Clifton with Maureen Young Ingram

Welcome to Day 18 of Verselove. We are so happy you are here, however you choose to be present. If you know what to do, carry on; if you are not sure, begin by reading the inspiration and mentor poem, then scroll to the comment section to post your poem. Please respond to at least three other poets in celebration of words, phrases, ideas, and craft that speak to you. Click here for more information on the Verselove. Share a highlight from your experiences thus far here.

Maureen Young Ingram lives and writes in Silver Spring, Maryland. Now retired, she taught preschool and mentored adults in their work with young children. Maureen loves spending time with her two granddaughters, hiking, and gardening. She blogs regularly at maureenyoungingram.blogspot.com and enjoys writing poetry about children, family, and nature. Maureen is immensely grateful for the Ethical ELA writing community.

Inspiration

On this Monday in the middle of our month of poetry writing, I offer the mentor poet Lucille Clifton and her voluminous poetry. Lucille Clifton began writing poetry at the age of 10 and published some 13 volumes and numerous children’s books. The body of her work is hopeful and caring, despite wrestling with difficult issues of family, race, womanhood, abuse, death, and more. She had a unique ability to write concisely; most of her poems measure twenty lines or less, with individual lines only a few words long. It is said that Lucille Clifton, a mother of six, wrote her poetry right in the midst of her busy family life – and she was known to quip, “Why do you think my poems are so short?” 

Here is a short video where Lucille Clifton offers her explanation of what poetry is.

Consider Lucille Clifton’s incisive and humorous critique of male power in her poem “wishes for sons”:

i wish them cramps
i wish them a strange town
and the last tampon
i wish them no 7-11.

i wish them one week early
and wearing a white skirt.
i wish them one week late.

later i wish them hot flashes
and clots like you
wouldn’t believe. let the
flashes come when they
meet someone special.
let the clots come
when they want to.

let them think they have accepted
arrogance in the universe,
then bring them to gynecologists
not unlike themselves.

Process

What difficult subject is on your mind today? 

Be inspired by Lucille Clifton and dare to make time to write about it, with both wonder and truth, in the midst of all that needs doing. 

  • Write down your subject – what angers, challenges, disappoints, hurts, or bugs you?
  • Write your poem from your point of view, using a lowercase “i” for yourself.
  • Offer a clear, simple, direct image of the problem (when do you experience this? what is happening?)
  • How might you weave in a message of hope? 
  • Limit yourself to 10-20 lines, with short lines (suggestion – reread your draft with a critical eye as to what words are superfluous, unnecessary?)
  • Consider playing around with or simply eliminating punctuation and capitalization
  • Have fun!

Maureen’s Poem

i think it would be awesome
if microphones had
lie detectors
then when
politicians pontificate
their voices project
as Minions singing
as cassette tapes rewound
as simply falsetto singing
we’d be united in
enlightenment
we need an app for this

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. 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.

Also, in the spirit of reciprocity, please respond to at least three other poets today.

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Katie K

it burns bridges
it creates divides
it’s never the answer

i fight for us
i fight for you
i fight for what i believe

do you fight for me
do you fight for us
do you enjoy the fight

argue in the night
argue in the day
argue with strangers

stop the fighting
stop the hate
stop the segregation

Carol Varsalona

Maureen, thanks for introducing me to Lucille Clifton. I like how she tackles a topic and how you did also.

Margaret

Thank you Maureen for this prompt! As I thought about what to write about, I reflected on all the current events that are present in our society today. Here is my poem that I created with my dad.

Why do people fear?

New ideas
Different races
Same sex love
Banning books
Different looks
What is the harm?
Can different charm?
Racist screed
Different creed
We are all unique
But all the same
So stop the blame
Let the Lion
And the Lamb
Lay down together
In Birmingham

Emma U.

I love that you took the time to use this opportunity to process what is going on in the world and that you collaborated on the creation of this poem.

Ella Wright

The Space Between Us 
i wish distance was traveled instantly
the pain of missing
i wish miles were inches
days apart passed in seconds  
i wish we could be together
we never spent days apart
i wish i didn’t have to watch you grow from far 
our bond is stronger than life
i wish you knew how much i miss you
i would be there every second of every day

Katie K

Ella this is beautiful. This resonates a lot with me, being away from home and the one I/we love is never easy. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Dee

Thanks for sharing Maureen,

Help for the helpless

i wish we lived in a caring world
where the needy would be attended
i wish disabled people were cared for and has a place in society

i wish special needs children can be represented in policies
i wish therapy was not so expensive
when will things change for people living with a disability

i wish the stares can stop
more inclusion and acceptance
i wish that the day will soon come

Ella Wright

Wow, this is an absolutely beautiful poem! Thank you so much for sharing and bringing attention to something we all wish for.

Emma U.

Your poem brings to life the many wishes I hold too — thank you for sharing.

Katie K

Dee, I can tell your poem comes from the heart. All of your words are meaningful and impactful. I hope one day the world can change for the better.

Charlene Doland

Thanks for this great prompt, Maureen. My thoughts:

i wish the “experts”
would reflect honestly
and acknowledge openly
so-called education “reforms”
are in word only.
erase the scribbled-on board
put the students in the center
and build a community
of communities
where we are all teachers
and all learners

Ella Wright

We truly are all teachers and learners at the same time. Thank you for sharing this amazing poem.

Emma U.

Your poem reflects what I wish too would happen in the world of education. I hope one day soon these wishes become reality.

Katie K

Honesty is always the best policy, unfortunately not everyone follows this rule. Building a community of communities is a wonderful way to put a solution to the world’s education issues.

DesC

Poem 4/18
In a society where opportunities can be missed due to color
Judgment because of  color, i wish all people had a fair chance
Scholarships and housing missed because of color
Police brutality because of color
Rolled eyes and locked car doors because of color
Ugly stares because of color
Not willing to get to know a person because of color
Whites only mindset because of color

Dee

Des, your poem has so must truth to it. we need a world where the color of our skin will not determine our success. Equal opportunity for all. We are all one people.

Ella Wright

This poem is so powerful… My favorite lines are “Not willing to get to know a person because of color – Whites only mindset because of color”.

Saba T.

Hey, Maureen. Thank you for the prompt. Your poem is perfect. The lines:

their voices project

as Minions singing

as cassette tapes rewound

This should be the norm! Somebody really needs to work on this tech.

To Agents of the Patriarchy
In a world where
Being a woman is made
Difficult by other women
I wish for these
Agents of the patriarchy
To feel the true
Cost of their compromises
To feel the true
Cost of their apathy
To feel the true
Cost of their duplicity
To feel the fear
And the doubt
And the mistrust
When you cannot put faith
In the hand that is a twin
To yours
When you cannot put faith
In the heart that beats in tune
To yours
When you cannot put faith
In your sister from whatever mister

Maureen Y Ingram

Saba, I am so moved by your poem – it is so incomprehensible that

Being a woman is made

Difficult by other women

This feels like the most accessible empathy there is – to understand others that are much like oneself. Your use and examples of “To feel” coupled with “Cost of” across several lines of your poem really build momentum and punctuates the painful circumstances that are being created for women. Thank you for this poem.

Charlene Doland

This poem resonated with me, Saba. Your repetition of “to feel the true Cost” and “When you cannot put faith in” reinforced your message.

Dee

Hi Saba, Your poem illuminates how difficult it is for women to succeed in a world dominated by men. Instead of trying to bring each other down women must learn to support each other to bring new energy to the table.

Jennifer K

I really need to start writing my poems earlier in the day! This one is very much in need of revising, but I’m going to share it anyway.

Librarian

i wish to help them all
find just the right book
i wish they all knew
there was something just for them

i wish I had the time to spend
getting to know them well
I wish they’d give me the chance
to introduce just the right title

i wish all students liked to read
they just need the right book
i wish the district prioritized a culture of reading
and backed that up with certified librarians

©Jennifer Kowaczek April 2022

Maureen Y Ingram

Jennifer, these two lines stand out for me, giving me a window into how much you truly care about your students:

i wish I had the time to spend

getting to know them well

I hear such good intentions for your work, and I suspect you are doing amazing work with students and still wanting to do more.

Jennifer Kowaczek

Thank you, Maureen.
I am a 22 year veteran middle school librarian — the last 12 years I have been split 50/50 between two middle schools, running those libraries solo. As much as I try, I am not able to know my students (1400 between the buildings). And to top it off, my district made the decision to CUT reading for all students with the exception of those who have reading as a goal on their IEP.

It is very disheartening, but I do my very best with the limited time I have.

Dee

Hi Jennifer, thanks for sharing. Reading is something that I did not enjoy as a student. However, what made it satisfying was having books that I was interested in reading. Students need to be given a choice to self-select their books. Krashen asserts that when we give students choice they read more and develop fluency without feeling pressured. They also write better and spell better.

Shaun

Losing Connections
By Shaun

i don’t know when it happened
my little bug 
disconnected
from me
from us
we try to bring back the giggles and joy,
i want to erase the arguments and judgements,
the ultimatums and tears.

She’s on a leaf,
floating
branching away
i want to change its course
and 
bring her back,
peaceful,
buoyant,
at peace with the rapids and whirlpools
even Prospero’s magic can’t undo.

Jennifer K

Shaun, I can relate! As much as I would love to see them stay little, I would not change a thing about watching my child grow into the teen that is emerging. Well, maybe some things 😉

Maureen Y Ingram

Shaun, this is a precious poem, capturing that essential, developmentally appropriate distancing between parent and (I suspect) early teen, from the vantage point of a loving parent…I adore that you name her as “my little bug” and then treat us to this metaphor continued,

She’s on a leaf,

floating

branching away

Trust your little bug, she will find her way through the rapids.

Rachel S

Getting this up super late. Thank you, Maureen, for the prompt, and thanks to everyone for the wise words & deep thoughts in your poems!

wishes for the childless
i wish them blowouts
i wish them 2 am
and a colicky baby
i wish them no spare sheets

i wish them at the grocery store
wallet (and snacks) left in the car
i wish them a grumpy cashier

i wish them zero privacy
and tantrums like you
wouldn’t believe. let them
never go to the bathroom 
by themselves 
let the tantrums come
when they try to close the door

let them think they’ll never
have a moment of peace again
then bring them to the rocking chair
so they’ll know it’s worth it

Maureen Y Ingram

Rachel, this is a terrific parallel to Lucille Clifton’s mentor poem! I love your subject – and how you pierce their perspective…This was always the worst for me:

i wish them at the grocery store

wallet (and snacks) left in the car

i wish them a grumpy cashier

Love your poem!

Denise Krebs

Oh, Maureen, with the regrets yesterday and difficult subjects today, we are making space for so many painful and freeing messages for this community. Thank you for being here today, for sharing your wisdom and teaching, and thank you for your poem. I can surely hear those politicians’ voices through the words in these lines:

as Minions singing

as cassette tapes rewound

as simply falsetto singing

I was so happy to read Clifton’s poem today. I didn’t realize she was so prolific, and I had never read that one. I used her sentence starter today for my poem. We are driving across the country, and when I saw a weather-beaten sign out in the desert, it brought this poem to me.

i wish them to have
empathy for the oppressed
i wish them eyesight
to see the truth

i wish them to let go
of their lust for power
i wish them to see behind
the curtain of their wizard

i wish them to
take down their
damn trump-pence sign

Stacey Joy

Denise, I wish these same wishes. I haven’t yet seen the trump-pence signs but I fear they’ll creep up on my walks in other communities.

Praying for your wishes to come true!

Cara Fortey

Denise,
Oh my yes! Your middle stanza

i wish them to let go

of their lust for power

i wish them to see behind

the curtain of their wizard

in particular struck the chord for me. I love this and I am totally with you!

Glenda M. Funk

Denise,
Im right there wishing w/ you. Today Ron Filipkowski posted on Twitter a photo of a house w/ a huge TRUMP 2024 sign in the yard. The entire house was bedecked w/ Orangey’s crap. What is wrong w/ these people? ?

Maureen Y Ingram

Denise, thank you for this! I can just imagine all the weather-beaten signs you are seeing on your road trip. I admire each of these wishes, especially –

i wish them to see behind

the curtain of their wizard



Kevin Leander

i wish you really knew me,
Turbotax,
not my numbers
but the real me whose
eyes drown in forms
on screen even though
you try to be nice,
you really try.
please don’t ask
more questions
i get it–
a Federal hold up–
my hands raised,
take all my money
and end your interview
about the 1099-SA.
not that i’m stupid,
more like stupefied,
so please,
reach out,
let’s just hang, Turbo,
in real life,
don’t let me
die first from taxes,
and then for real.
 

Denise Krebs

Kevin, this is hilarious. What a great perspective you took to write this poem, and so timely too! So many funny lines. “my hands raised / take all my money” “not that I’m stupid / more like stupefied”. Hope you made the deadline!

Kevin Leander

haha–just barely Denise! And by something entirely inexplicable, my debt changed by a thousand dollars in like 30 seconds. You’d not want me as your H&R Block person.

Cara Fortey

Kevin,
Such an apt poem for tax day! Your plea of “don’t ask / more questions” took me right back to doing my taxes with that persistent beast, Turbo Tax. I love the engaging tone and cry for humanity–great job!

Kevin Leander

Thank you Cara! Funny how these machines are crafted to be human and we personify them in turn.

Maureen Y Ingram

Kevin, this was the perfect topic for tax day! Love it. I am amused by the sad reality of –

i get it–

a Federal hold up–

my hands raised,

take all my money

Kevin Leander

haha–thanks Maureen. I guess it was a kind of tax day fever dream. 😉

Rachelle

Maureen, your example poem got me thinking in all sorts of directions. Lie detectors on politicians’ mics… now there is an idea! I ended up going with a topic most of us could relate to:

wishes

i wish them class rosters
–six of them or so–
with thirty or more names
on each list

i wish them eighth period
on the friday before spring break
during a full moon

i wish them the greatest lesson…
only to be disrupted by drills:
fire, tornado, active shooter
(conditions I, II, and III)

later i wish them resilience
so the names on the rosters
–all six of them or so–
become real people’s lives
who deserve to be loved by them

Cara Fortey

Rachelle,
I wish “them” all this, too. I very much like how these are all things that “they” completely don’t understand and couldn’t possibly–but “they” certainly feel qualified to judge. Your poem sounds so sweet and gentle, you’re wishing for goodness sake, but it is actually quite cutting. Clever you!

Denise Krebs

Rachelle, you definitely took Maureen’s advice to “weave in a message of hope” – That last stanza to perfect. Resilience so they can get to know all those students.

Could anything sound worse now than this:

eighth period

on the friday before spring break

during a full moon

Nope, I don’t think so.

Maureen Y Ingram

Rachelle, yes, yes, yes – we truly need this perspective! I laughed out loud at

i wish them eighth period

on the friday before spring break

during a full moon

and I was greatly soothed by your final message, for all of us to truly know and love our students. Thank you for this!

Cara Fortey

Maureen, thank you for the opportunity to vent. I am blessed to be in one of the states that doesn’t have a bill (yet).

teachers are under fire
137 bills in 35 states 
limiting what schools can teach 
in regard to race
American history
politics
sexual orientation
and gender identity

when did discussing a topic
that creates
discomfort, guilt, or anguish
on the basis of political belief
become a bad thing?

there is something rotten 
in the state of our country 

let’s have a little trust 
that if our beliefs are right, 
we don’t need to mandate them,
we just need to bring back 
trust and respect 

Rachelle

Cara, thank you for writing this poem. I watched a bit of the Lucille Clifton video linked, and she said (loosely) we should come to poems with questions (not answers) and a sense of wonder. Your third stanza mimics that.

Kevin Leander

BRAVA! This is spot on. I’m so glad you’re writing about it (and powerfully so).

Denise Krebs

“there is something rotten / in the state of our country” Amen to that! And “if our beliefs are right, we don’t need to mandate them” Yes. Thank you for this, Cara.

Maureen Y Ingram

Cara, this is my big wonder, too –

when did discussing a topic

that creates

discomfort, guilt, or anguish

on the basis of political belief

become a bad thing?

Don’t we want to create thinkers and problem solvers in this country? Don’t we want to connect and understand each other? It is truly rotten what is happening. I have hope and faith that there is powerful resistance to these bills. Thank you for this insightful poem!

Stacey Joy

I began writing as soon as I got home from work because I was livid with my principal’s poor leadership. I wrote a scathing few stanzas, then decided she didn’t deserve my poem LOL, you know what I mean. I ended up thinking about how hard it is just to live and be free, it’s beginning to feel impossible.

a poem i refuse to title

What you need to know
is how to juggle knives
with one hand while
walking the tightrope
with eyes closed,
how to balance
a basketball on your nose
while giving crazy cats a bath.

You need to know
how to do the impossible
with a mind filled 
in possibilities,
how to live in bondage
inside cages wide open
and how to see yourself
as beautiful and royal
in a world that hates
everything about you!

© Stacey L. Joy, 4/18/22

Rachelle

Stacey, I appreciate knowing the background of how this poem started out (I went through a parallel process). This poem fits the prompt perfectly as it weaves in a message of hope “how to see yourself / as beautiful and royal” within it.

Kevin Leander

wow this was powerful–the way it set up knowledge and juggling in the first stanza and then turned later in the second stanza of how to see oneself despite hatred (and despite the enormous efforts of all the rest). tension and power and meaning across the lines. love it.

Denise Krebs

Oh, Stacey, yikes. You have brought the feelings here tonight with images that put it all out there. You are right, she didn’t deserve your poem. You did, beautiful, royal One. I had to laugh so hard at this image:

how to balance

a basketball on your nose

while giving crazy cats a bath.

Yes, impossible, exactly what you wanted to illustrate. This poem is perfection.

Susie Morice

Stacey – Your poem makes me so grateful we have you, your voice, and poetry in our lives, because this life would be utterly explosive without that trifecta. I can just feel the rage and frustration pulse (the throb of bondage…cages) as you layer each line in the demands and circus (the tightrope…juggle…ball on the nose) of being in your shoes right now. But I see that beautiful and royal Stacey… you are just that, my friend! And today your poem let you step outside yourself and the malarkey being dumped on you, so that you could see the real you and hear your own beautiful voice. Amazing! Thank you for writing this poem. It’s outstanding in every way. Susie

Maureen Y Ingram

Stacey, I laughed with you at your “she didn’t deserve my poem LOL” and I am excited that the end result was this treasure of a poem. I am so awed by these lines,

how to live in bondage

inside cages wide open

and how to see yourself

as beautiful and royal

How to grow this within every child? Yes, yes, yes!

Emma U.

A lively 
mom 
friend
sister
grandmother. 
A resilient women 
that’s for sure. 
Until her body, 
burdened
beyond 
relief. 
Despite the signs, 
minds 
clung to 
hope. 
One month remained. 
I wished her 
well,
for pain to end
& peace to begin. 

Rachelle

Emma, what a succinct truth. You were truly able to fit so much emotion (“lively” “resilient” to “burdened”) and such a story into such few words.

Denise Krebs

Emma, your poem about this special woman is touching. “burdened beyond relief” is a perfect phrase for what had happened to her body. Peace to you.

Maureen Y Ingram

Emma, you have beautifully captured a loving life’s transition from this world, the pain of impending loss for others

minds 

clung to 

hope

and the hope for peace for the dying. So poignant. Your use of (mostly) one-word lines reads a bit like the slowness of water trickling, echoing that sense of transition. So sorry for your loss.

Kim Douillard

Maureen–what a terrifying prompt! Do I really want to tell a truth that maybe reveals an ugly underside rather than finding the beauty in something ordinary? I don’t usually. But I had a truth to tell–so here it is.

Taking Aim

i wish
the incessant
flow of words
that spew
like an
upturned fire hydrant
could solve
world hunger
and
establish planetary peace.

instead
they aim
their verbal arrows
indiscriminately
day after day
hour after hour
at friends
classmates
fraying my nerves
piercing my heart.

@kd0602

Kevin Leander

Beautifully said, Kim. I feel the fire hydrant too. The line that really stands out for me is “indiscriminately” and how it charges up the metaphor of the fire hydrant. Very nice and so apropos to life today.

Maureen Y Ingram

Kim, thank you for sharing this! Your poem echoes much of what the world feels like right now, how every newspaper reads – just a lot of

verbal arrows

indiscriminately

I am not surprised that classrooms are echoing this as well. How do we change the tone? How do we slow students down to hear one another, to feel heard? Teaching is the most profound and important work in this world, I believe. Thank you for caring so deeply!

Charlene Doland

Yes… the misdirected arrows, complete with venomous tips. This spoke to my heart, Kim.

Seana Wright

Here is my late entry.

i think parents
must come to
the school and pick
up their child’s
report card/grades and
listen to the teacher for
at least five minutes
if necessary to learn
how their child is doing
in class.
If a child acts ratchet in class
the parent/guardian needs to
come to the school
and watch a video
the teacher or admin has filmed
of their child misbehaving
just to show the parent so they can
see how ugly or disruptive
their child acts at times.
the parent of a difficult disruptive child
needs to be able to come in the
classroom with their mask on
and sit in class 3X within a two week
period and see their child acting a fool
so they can understand what we’re
trying to do, see why we call them and
help get their child to “get it together”

by Seana Hurd Wright
4/18/2022

Denise Hill

This is SO apt, Seana. I have been seeing more of these kinds of sentiments shared recently, about how ‘your child is NOT an angel in my classroom’ – and your idea of capturing these behaviors on video is not a far cry from what I have heard from some of my teacher friends (I teach college, so don’t deal with any of this!). I’m not sure teachers would appreciate having THEIR every action scrutinized by parents who (with no formal training) think they know better how teachers should teach – even though this continues to be the mentality. I was hoping after the pandemic – after parents were indeed forced to deal more hands-on with their kids’ educations, that there might be more empathy and support for teachers. But, alas, nope. I don’t know what it will take in this country to give teachers the respect they deserve. Perhaps it really will take putting on helmets and pads and a uniform and scoring a touchdown now and again (and I’m a huge football fan, so not dissing that at all!).

Maureen Y Ingram

Seana, I can feel tremendous release emanating from your poem – how healthy it is to write it down, write it OUT! I also hear this deep desire to work WITH families, closely, to

help get their child to “get it together”

How to partner with families in a oh-so-burdened and defensive world? You are doing hero’s work. Keep the faith!

Susan O

Being bugged

I’m being bugged by bugs 
each and every day.
They’re invading my house
in every way.

Termites shed their droppings 
from ceiling to floor.
They are even eating inside my front door
as if to say “let me in.”

But they are already in
as well as the ants. 
Smaller than pepper
and into my plants.

In the morning
mounds of dirt arise from outside.
Its that gopher had his buddies
having a ride
and making tunnels under the grass.
My iris they think is first class.

Talk about eating!
Having their fill is some other bug
on the lettuce I just planted.
Could be a snail or a slug

Then there’s the ground squirrel
chewing a hole in the net
that covers my garden
full of beans. Yummy you bet!

Spring is here.
it’s a constant battle.
I vow to stay calm
and not get too rattled.

Susan O

I’ve been off today. Wasn’t gonna write and then while I was fixing dinner I just sat down and wrote this rabble. Yes, I good time to gripe!

Charlene Doland

Susan, I totally relate to your sentiments here! At times it seems the pests have the upper hand. As a “no chemical pesticides” person, the war can be especially demanding at times. Then I remind myself that all these critters have a reason to be, that it is important to find a balance, to live and let live… in moderation.

Maureen Y Ingram

I love these nature grumbles, Susan! It is so stunning how the cold air ebbs and the ants march in…really, who is truly in charge of our homes? I, too, have seen so many ‘invaders’ and it keeps me alert. (Crickets in my basement is my current focus) I’m sorry to admit, this made me giggle –

They are even eating inside my front door

as if to say “let me in.”

On the plus side, these nature eaters make for good poetry! Thank you!

Cathy

This prompt brought to mind a topic I don’t usually talk about with others. For me, it is often hard to listen to people complain about having to talk with their mom/dad each week. They try to avoid those calls or get off quickly. It infuriates me because I would give anything to talk with my dad, mom and sister again. This annoyance was the inspiration today.

i wish connection with the dearly deceased.
i wish hearing a voice faded from memory calling my name.
i wish arms encircling this Daddy’s little girl with strength and support.
i wish staring into those blue twinkling eyes of teasing joy.

i wish I knew for certain what happens after this life.
i wish I knew if I would see you again.
i wish heaven’s majesty could be grasped by this human brain.

i wish grief evaporated.
i wish heart holes filled with hope.
i wish all encompassing, joyful love greets me at my end.

Mo Daley

Yes to everything in this poem, Cathy! Your last stanza really speaks to me. Thanks for writing this poem today.

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Cathy, the transparency of your poem reveals what you feel and what many of us wish, especially about the “afterlife”. We know what we’ve been taught and only our “faith” will help us accept the unknowable because we have a relationship with our Creator.
Yes, I know, sometimes faith is not enough to keep us from wondering, but it can keep us from worrying.
Thanks for trusting our group with your wondering.

Susan O

Oh, Cathy, I can sympathize. I so often wish these same wishes. Miss my daddy so much!

Susan Ahlbrand

I’m right with you . . . people who complain and/or avoid their parents.

This poem is so beautiful.

Nancy White

Oh Cathy. These are my wishes, too. I feel your longing to know the answers about heaven, something tangible to hold onto. Your last two lines speak to me especially. These are my heartfelt prayers.

Maureen Y Ingram

Cathy, these grief-soaked wishes are precious and sad and beautiful. I am so sorry for your enormous loss. How hard it is to hear others trivialize what you are missing so dearly! I love the wondering woven throughout, and your final wish –

i wish all encompassing, joyful love greets me at my end.

Mo Daley

Maureen, this prompt got me a little worked up. As I’ve mentioned, I’m working on contract negotiations, so I think you can see how this poem came about!

For School Administrators
By Mo Daley 4018-22

I wish them
intervention classes of 14
reading 2 grade levels behind

12 behavioral referrals and
being called bitch 3 times this month
6th grade behaviors
and 8th grade attitudes

$40,000 to support a family
with 10 sick days
0 mental health days

0 secretaries
without 100% paid insurance
and a 1% raise

gayle

A rant well written and on point! Each and every detail was the reality of teaching today.Bravo! (My poem was on a similar topic—luckily, I am retired!)

Kim Johnson

Mo, the namecalling words aimed at teachers seem to be flying more frequently than ever before in the classroom. I’m so sorry that these challenges of teaching are becoming more and more prevalent. In my state, they have just recently approved 49% retirees to come back at 100% because of the teacher shortage. All your reasons explain why we find ourselves where we are……

Susie Morice

Mo – You bet your a$$… schools would be different indeed were this to be… were equity to even remotely exist. I hear ya! Some in those high-dollar shoes just make me want to scream. The miserable teacher paycheck just ices the cake with tar. Great poem! Great voice. And so real it hurts. Thank you. Susie

Maureen Y Ingram

Mo, this is awesome! So strong. The numerals are terrific, really making the EXACTING case for how hard things are for teachers and how much more support, understanding, perspective is needed by admin. I think you should write this poem on a ‘book mark’ and let it slip out of your papers during a meeting…it is an honest dose of reality. Thank you for sharing!

Tammi Belko

Maureen — Thank you for this prompt. It was perfect opportunity for me to vent. Ohio is going the way of Florida with the “Don’t Say Gay” laws, and I am so infuriated. My heart breaks for my LGBQT+ students and my own daughter.

My Wish for All the Haters

I wish no bathroom access
and no representation 
in books and classrooms

I wish them banishment from the sports 
that bring them joy
I wish they are made to feel less
I wish them time in a closet

I wish for them to feel the sting of judgment 
& bite of hate 
Let them feel damaged, broken
Make them feel their families are not families
Send them to the Island of Misfit Toys
Don’t look at them, stand next to them,
you might catch it

I wish all the haters would taste the salty tears
of the children they condemn.

Cathy

This is very powerful. Your 3rd stanza is one line after another that zings the truth.

Mo Daley

This is so important, Tammi. I love you wishing them time in a closet. I’m so sorry this is happening in your state. Oh, those salty tears!

Ann

Beautiful! May I add my wish to yours?

Dave Wooley

Tammi,
Every bit of this is so powerful. That second stanza breaks my heart.

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Tammi, your strong voice for those who often feel weak brings tears to my eyes! Not because of what you’ve referenced, but because of the variety of issues that we all know are faced daily by one or more of the students we do or have taught.

At the same time, I’m so delighted that teachers like you are not just expressing compassion in writing, but demonstrating it in the classroom.

God bless you for being a blessing to others.

Maureen Y Ingram

Tammi, thank you for your advocacy! These wishes are strong and clear, insightful. This is the raw truth of these laws –

I wish they are made to feel less

Let them feel damaged, broken

We are legislating this. It is eviscerating, unconscionable. If only your wishes could come true and people could feel these repercussions. Thank you!

Nancy White

Kasey, you’ve captured the nagging underlying fears I have been having. Being a grandparent I worry about what the state of the world will be as my six year old grandson grows up. Almost half his life has been in pandemic. Your stanza of tucking in the kids contrasted with your list of what could go wrong is so effective. It’s not selfish to want it to wait. I hope it all waits forever, but I’m a wishful thinker.

Emma Gould

i thought that growing up would be magical
i always wondered what i would look like
who i would end up with
what career i would have
where i would live
what my hobbies would be
now that i am here,
i would go back if i could
not because i am not happy
but because times were simpler
if i only knew what i know now, back then.

Laura Langley

Emma, there’s something about teaching high school students that offers this very struggle the space for near daily reminding. It’s funny to be surrounded by people who just want to be where you are (an adult) and vice versa. I try to remind myself that I’ve arrived in the magic. Thanks for putting all of this to words!

Tammi Belko

Emma — I love the nostalgic tone to this poem. These lines “if I only knew what i know now, back then” — really resonate with me.

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Ummmm, Emma. What you express here about wishing we knew then what we know now would have gotten you sent to your room! If we had had the chutzpah to speak up then like we do now, we would have been banished for “aking like you’s grown!”.

I giggling as I write, but can also feel what you’re expressing in this poem. Thanks for speaking for many of us who have had the same thoughts.

(I grew up in Detroit, hearing Yiddish at school and Central Alabama at home. So when I think of my early years I hear both. :-))

Kim Douillard

Oh yes! The value of hindsight! Uncertainty is such a challenge.

Stacey Joy

Emma,
I’m with you on this all the way. Today, I just want to be 9 years old, in my yellow bedroom playing dress-up! All this adulting is draining!

i would go back if i could

not because i am not happy

but because times were simpler

if i only knew what i know now, back then.

??????????

Charlene Doland

“i would go back if i could
not because i am not happy
but because times were simpler” — I have long thought, as have many others, that it is unfortunate we become wiser only as we age.

Maureen Y Ingram

Emma, there is something soft and magical about this wish, I can imagine a magic want that makes little again, just for a bit – to take a break from ‘adulting.’ Loved this! I have had this same desire many times. Writing poetry is a lovely way to immerse a bit in that childhood simplicity, I think. Thank you for this!

Laura Langley

Maureen, thank you for this prompt today! I needed this catharsis! And surely they’ll make your genius app.

i knew this would be hard 
from the get
i knew about poor latches
cracking clotting 
engorging leaking
but i didn’t expect 
the personal 
cracking clotting 
engorging leaking
it’s a daily Sisyphusian
struggle to remove the
weights from the scales
of comparison and resentment
i guess Kristeva was right
my time is cyclical
spiraling which 
i can feel in my breast and
see in his
spurting
springing
sprouting

Tammi Belko

Laura — Oh, yes! I remember those days of nursing, exhausting! My son was ravenous and I felt that all I did was nurse day and night. These lines — “it’s a daily Sisyphusian/struggle to remove the/weights from the scales” — so true!

Mo Daley

Laura, you’ve captured so many emotions of a young mother here! Your verbs are so vivid, you really bring back memories for me. Also, thanks for making me look up Kristeva. I had never heard of her before.

Denise Hill

Okay, blech! I don’t have this experience in my history, so all I can say is WONDERFULLY rendered here! I mean, yuck. I get it without having to have experienced it, which makes this a MOST effective poem! The final lines offer some consolation that it will all have been worth it. I hope you will look for another outlet for this piece (if they accept previously published – since some consider posting like this ‘publishing’) – but the Mom Egg Review magazine comes to mind.

Maureen Y Ingram

Ouch! Oh, Laura – your poem has brought me right back into those days, the

daily Sisyphusian

struggle

I love the alliterative ending, and it ends with the very hopeful word “sprouting” – growing, yes! May this end result – a happy growing baby – offset your pain. Thank you for this poem!

Jamie Langley

an answer for Ukraine
once or twice a day i find myself before a screen
watching the destruction of the Ukraine
buildings steps away from rubble

where are the people?
the ones who chose to stay
too late to exit safely
the number of dead seems
meaningless in a situation
that lacks an answer

this morning images of people
walking along streets of Kyiv
and through parks
as an act of defiance
a return to a normal

Emma Gould

Hi Jamie! Thanks for sharing. I too often find myself before a screen displaying the horrors happening in the Ukraine. Prayers to the Ukrainians…

Laura Langley

Thanks for sharing a hopeful
moment from Ukraine. I like the way you layer questions onto images. I imagine someone trying to turn their screen this way and that to see if they can find anyone out there.

Tammi Belko

Jamie — The destruction and death is so horrible and tragic. Yet, there so much amazing courage. This stanza makes me feel hopeful.

this morning images of people
walking along streets of Kyiv
and through parks
as an act of defiance
a return to a normal

Susan O

Jamie, I know you are not alone in this as thousands of people watch the screen and see this destruction. Your poem is heart-breaking and yet encouraging to see such defiant people willing to preserve democracy.

Maureen Y Ingram

Jamie, I am awed by the tone of your poem – how I get such a sense of distance and surreal, beginning with you at the screen and asking

where are the people?

the ones who chose to stay

It is haunting…especially imagining ‘a return to a normal’ in the midst of all this? Thank you for this!

Margaret Simon

I have been absent lately from this forum. It’s a difficult time in my life and I haven’t been able to write about it. Gonna try today, considering this prompt which may be just the one i need to be able to write.

Wishes for Dad

i wish for peace
and a place to write
his thoughts
on a cloud
floating above
all this madness
of machines
pumping oxygen
taking pulse
counting heartbeats

i wish for the smell
of an open field
of wildflowers
where he can
run again
feel free

i wish
i wish
i wish
i could take the cup
of suffering away.

(Now I’m crying again. Thanks for this safe space.)

Jessica Wiley

Margaret, you are in my prayers during this difficult time. In chaotic moments, we cry for peace. Your last stanza is hope for us all who are wanting the same: “i wish
i wish
i wish
i could take the cup
of suffering away.”
I wish I could, too. Thank you for sharing in this moment of vulnerability. This is beautiful!

gayle

Margaret—I am so sorry you are dealing with so much. We wish we could take your cup of suffering away…

Tammi Belko

Margaret –I am so sorry your father and family are suffering. My prayers are with you.

Cathy

My heart is with you as you walk through this time with your dad. You last stanza rang true in my heart and brought forth memories of caring for my sister.

Kim Douillard

Oh Margaret. I’m feeling your pain–and maybe helping to lift just a bit. I’m wishing for solace for you and your family. Sending love.

Stacey Joy

All I can type right now is how important it is to tell your loved one it’s okay to go into the light for peace. I am sobbing for you and remembering the suffering of my mom and so many others I’ve loved and lost. Praying for you and your dad’s peace.

??

Susan Ahlbrand

Margaret,
I hope the writing of this beautiful poem was at least a little cathartic. You are in my thoughts. I’ve been where you are (or somewhat close, I believe).

Denise Krebs

Oh, Margaret, peace to you and yours. I wish for you and him comfort and peace. I’m so glad you came today.

Maureen Y Ingram

Margaret, thank you for coming here in the midst of your grief and loss, and sharing your heart with us. I am so sorry! How I love your opening, a prayer, really,

i wish for peace

and a place to write

his thoughts

on a cloud

floating above

These are precious thoughts; I hope your dear Dad is at peace.

Susan Ahlbrand

Kasey,
Your poem so effectively captures the worries that come with our very uncertain world. The way you embed this in a picture of your putting your kids to bed really ups the power.

Denise Hill

Ohhh, I like this so much. I appreciate ‘practicing brevity’ and these models, Maureen, because lawd knows I would rant a mountainful on this topic. The video link was also insightful. Thank you!

top-down

another decree 
from admins who
never taught here 
telling teachers 
what is best for 
“our” students 

when the nation is misled and in chaos 
ministers mouth empty promises 
~Tao Te Ching 18 

not “our” students 
i say like a parent 
battling custody 
mine 
i know best 

but i’m no boss 
never want to be 
so i shut my mouth 
redesign curriculum 
spit into the wind 
and run 

Susie Morice

Oh, Lordy, do I hear ya or what!?!!!! “spit into the wind”…can’t tell you how much this resonates with me. So much is so screwed up. But then there are the wonderful teachers like you and the rest of ethicalela who are cut from a different fabric. Thank heavens! Susie

Margaret Simon

“Spit into the wind.” It seems so useless, all of it.

Jessica Wiley

Denise, I almost went there today, but then I changed my mind. Maybe for another day. Admins don’t want to hear this part:
not “our” students 
i say like a parent 
battling custody 
mine 
i know best “.

It’s what the state and government officials know where to put the funds or rather take if they don’t sit and beg. It’s so unfortunate, yet there is still a glimmer of hope for us all. Re-election year! Thank you for sharing!

Laura Langley

Denise, the Tao Te Ching quote is the perfect punctuation and those last two lines offer comedic relief and allow us to commiserate. Thanks for sharing!

Tammi Belko

Denise,
I feel your frustration. I think administrators should be required to teach classes every so often so they can remember what it is like to have their boots on the ground.

Susan O

This is so well said and yes, it has brevity. I remember how distraught I use to be about decrees from Admins that never taught at my school or even anywhere! Sorry that we have to redesign curriculum and run. It shouldn’t be that way.

Maureen Y Ingram

The Tao Te Ching 18 quote is extraordinary; thank you for sharing this. Oh my, your poem resonates – the technique of short, abbreviated lines just underscores your advocacy as a teacher, I hear such force and conviction:

not “our” students 

i say like a parent 

battling custody 

mine 

i know best 

Thank you for this!

Stacey Joy

Hi Maureen,
I can’t wait to get home today and write! I love Lucille Clifton. Your poem needs to be broadcast on every network!

their voices project

as Minions singing

as cassette tapes rewound

This is hilarious but honest and necessary!

I’ll post this evening. Thank you for hosting and for such a wonderful mentor to inspire us.

Maureen Y Ingram

Hello, all! I am loving these Lucille Clifton inspired poems, and I am reading so many words of hope and truth. I cannot resist commenting on everyone’s. However, my voice is going silent for a bit – I am tied up for the rest of today. I look forward to reading more of your wonder tomorrow. It has been exhilarating to be your host – thank you so much!

Barb Edler

Kasey, oh, your poem is riveting. I am brought to tears. I can hear your love for your children and the very real fears of today’s rules. Just this weekend there were four mass shootings. It is such a scary world and I know I want a far better world for my grown children and grandchildren and a future grandchild I feel selfish to desire. Powerful poem! Praying daily for peace!

Susie Morice

The Irony: Upon Meeting after Years of Silence

She blurted her refusal, “My body, my choice,” 
when I asked her please, get vaxxed
so we can be safer together and with all our loved ones
we’d been polio, diphtheria, TB, flu, you-name-it vaxxed
all through our earlier days —
she set her jaw in that righteous clench of defiance, 
as she regurgitated 
what spewed from the pulpit 
that sucked her from our family when she was fifteen; 
she wanted to be right,
above it all, above the science, 
above us all  
with her same cold breath 
that denounced absolutely a woman’s right 
to follow her own medical choices,
being forced to bear children 
a broken body cannot deliver,
a stone broke family does not want 
and cannot keep safe. 

And again, we are back 
to years of silence.

by Susie Morice, April 18, 2022©

Barb Edler

Oh, Susie, I hear the pain and frustration throughout your poem. The silence created between our family and loved ones is especially difficult. So many of your lines are striking showing the person’s personality and unwillingness to be vaccinated. “She wanted to be right” “above us all” “her same cold breath” “her jaw in that righteous clench of defiance”…all of these clearly depict someone who is unwilling to listen to reason and who is created a huge division within the family. I found the end of your poem particularly somber: “And again, we are back/to years of silence.” My heart aches for you. Hugs, Barb

Maureen Y Ingram

Susie, your poem and Rob’s make for a sad but honest pairing today, revealing the raw pain of polarization, the inexplicable inability to hear another perspective beyond one’s own. I am so sorry for

And again, we are back 

to years of silence.

I have no doubt that you carry this loss with you each day. There is sad irony in

“denounced absolutely a woman’s right 

to follow her own medical choices,”

and your opening line, oh my!
Thank you for this poem.

Glenda M. Funk

Susie,
Ive experienced every word of this poem in my family. It’s heartbreaking. The irony of being anti-vax on the basis of a woman’s rights and against a woman’s right to choose abortion over forced birth boggles my mind. I so wish the forces of division (you know who) would disappear and the silence abate. Peace and hugs to you.

Margaret Simon

Susie, I am sorry for this rift. “She wanted to be right” says so much about the conviction of many who, in my opinion, are far from “right.”

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Susie, the anguish and frustration bleeds through every line of your poem today, narrowing in with the forced bearing from broken bodies to stone broke families. I have to wonder how much of these stances come from feeling less which drives a need to be right for so many. And those last two lines are heart-wrenching. This is powerful stuff here and I’m so sorry for your family.

Tammi Belko

Susie,
I really feel this one. I also have an incredibly polarized family. In school when we learned how families took different sides during the Revolutionary War and Civil War, I remember thinking there is no way my family could be so divided. Sadly, now I know it is possible. Sometimes the silence seems like the only way to keep the peace.

Kim Johnson

Susie, I feel your disappointment, your frustration, your pleading that fell on deaf ears to one who matters but will not budge. I’m so sorry that she will not consider your words, with that clenched jaw tightened and unyielding. Those we love the most somehow manage to disappoint us far more than anyone else. I’m so sorry.

Stacey Joy

Ouch! I am so sorry and this hurts.

Your words punch through like fists: blurted, clenched, regurgitated, spewed, sucked

I wonder if she will ever get it but one thing I know, don’t let that bad energy get to you! You’re better off without it. But I am sorry because it shouldn’t have to be this way.

?

Maureen Y Ingram

Kasey, you speak with honesty and heartache; it is truly sobering to think of what we are doing to and/or leaving for our littles to ‘fix.’ It is not selfish “to want it to wait” – it should be our unanimous cry, I think. I am fascinated by the words

when will right

only ever be

wrong

and find myself paused with sadness. Thank you for sharing this reflective poem with us!

Rachel S

Ooh putting this in the context of tucking your kids into bed makes it so powerful. I feel this plea to the core: “please do not / end / not with them / not with theirs.” If you’re selfish, so am I!! Thank you for your words.

Jessica Wiley

Hi Maureen, I had to totally start over after reading the prompt again. I’m saving it for later though because it was really good. But here is my poem for the day, my pet peeve. Regarding your poem, I think someone needs to create this if they haven’t already. Maybe you should go for it! These lines,
politicians pontificate
their voices project
as Minions singing”
I love Minions, I don’t like all politicians. I also think Minions are smarter than some politicians, especially the ones that have been boisterous lately. Also, thank you for my new word, pontificate. I’ll be adding it to my list of new words to use.

Where are You Going?
i often hear of many complaints
but few solutions to this problem.
People are angered, disgusted, 
and perturbed at this annoyance.
It’s readily available,
equipped on all vehicles
yet too few know how to use it, 
nor its exact location.
The dreaded, but very important- 
turn signal.
Here’s a possible solution:
As soon as the driver turns 
without using a signal,
The hidden “goat scream” buzzer is activated
as a condition of behavior.
Positive Punishment.
Sound stupid?
Thank Skinner.
It works.
Problem solved.
 

Rachel S

So true, and such a fun presentation of this problem!! I love your possible solution – can someone make that “got scream buzzers” a thing? Also your title, “Where are You Going?,” is great – especially since you don’t reveal the item in question (turn signal) until half way through the poem. Very nice!

Jessica Wiley

Rachel, I have good news for you. They DO exist! And thank you, I didn’t want to give it away too soon because I didn’t want to reveal the obvious, that some people are oblivious to!

Maureen Y Ingram

Jessica, this is a really fun technical innovation! A “goat scream” buzzer! I was struck by the metaphorical meaning of the question “Where are you going” coupled with these lines,

It’s readily available,

equipped on all vehicles

yet too few know how to use it

How many of us are just idling, wandering, not knowing where we are going? It reminded me of the quip with which someone once teased me – “your lights are on but you aren’t home” — maybe we as humans have forgotten to use our ‘internal’ turn signals (or GPS)…I hope you’ll appreciate this random wonder that your poem led me to!

Also, the final four lines made me laugh out loud, especially your firm conclusion, “Problem solved.” Thank you for this!!

Jessica Wiley

Maureen, so much wisdom here! Thank you! I find myself asking this question daily when I’m behind “That Person”! I see this from a new perspective with your GPS analogy. And we have forgotten them because some of us are so entitled that we should think everyone knows all about us and what we do. “Scoffs”

Denise Hill

Shut! Up! I laughed so hard at “The dreaded, but very important – / turn signal.” OMGosh, Jessica. This is HILaRious! You don’t know how many times I’ve said (to myself), “Oh, you poor thing, you couldn’t afford the turn signals! Gosh! They should just make sure every car has those things…” But your goat scream buzzer would indeed be most effective! Thank you, Skinner. Thank you Jessica, for the great laugh this morning! Maybe next time, I just make a goat scream sound (I can imagine doing this in the summer with windows down…) And I am, likewise, a fan of Minions. For the short time I was division chair, some of my colleagues took to calling me “Boss” – for fun. So I would, rightly, in turn, call them “Minion.” Of course, I meant the little yellow buddies!

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Maureen, thanks so much for including the film clip of Lucille Clifton. It evoked the poem for me today.

Lucille Got It Right

Thanks, Lucille. Here’s my brief spiel.
Lucille Clifton clarifies the why of poetry for me
For years I’ve wondered why folks think I should see
The person I was born to be  should be changed

Why should I change the hair on my head
Why should I change the skin on my body
Why can I not come into your store
When I just want to buy a hot toddy

It’s a waste trying to be physically different
If being different means changing me
Why should one’s friendship be broken or rent
Wasting energy on what never can be

A waste of energy and a waste of time
Whether we write about it in prose or rhyme
Lucille Clifton says just write to wonder
Then perhaps things will become more clear
We can spend more time looking forward
Instead of worrying about what’s in the rear

No change.png
Maureen Y Ingram

Anna, I always admire your rhyming, and you have shared a delight today! I first came across Lucille Clifton through reading picture books with my preschoolers, and she has the extraordinary ability to speak truth about really tough subjects to our youngest learners (Everett Anderson’s Goodbye is unbelievably poignant/beautiful; makes me cry just to type the title); anyhow, I have tremendous admiration for her, and I applaud your words, “Lucille Clifton clarifies the why of poetry for me.” Thank you!

Susie Morice

Anna — So very well said, Anna. Cheers to changing the insanity of trying to be who we are not. I love the “more time looking forward/instead of worrying about what’s in the rear.” You are a strong voice here and one that speaks the truth in this poem. And I so appreciate the homage to Lucille…a great choice for today! Thank you. Susie

Jessica Wiley

Hi Anna, your last stanza, “A waste of energy and a waste of time
Whether we write about it in prose or rhyme
Lucille Clifton says just write to wonder
Then perhaps things will become more clear
We can spend more time looking forward
Instead of worrying about what’s in the rear” resonates with me because while we worry about what we can’t change, we can look forward to the future, forging ahead for new beginnings. Credit to Lucille Clifton too for making it plain! Thank you for sharing!

Heidi

Time is valuable
Yours and mine
I’ll give you 15 minutes
Then I draw the line

If we have an appointment
I don’t want to wait
I’ll give you 15 minutes
Then complain that you’re late

If we’re meeting for dinner
I’ll be there on time
I’ll give you 15 minutes
Then the wine is all mine

It may seem like a small thing
But it drives me up the wall
I’ll give you 15 minutes
PLEASE- don’t try to stall!

Rachel S

Amen! Waiting is the worst. I love your different examples, especially your third stanza – “then the wine is all mine.” Also love the form you chose & the rhyming! Thanks for sharing.

Maureen Y Ingram

Heidi, you have introduced a very respectful “rule of 15,” I think! Your rhyming technique adds a lightness to a clear, firm setting of boundaries – I like this. Thank you!

Jamie Langley

reading each stanza I wonder who is behind the question – I remember the chance of a walk in a class when a professor might be late – I think we always know the ones who cause us to wait – I love “Then the wine is all mine”

Emma Gould

Heidi, wow this poem is amazing. I loved the respect that you put on time. I feel the same way. Thanks for sharing!

Cathy

Agreed! I always arrive early and it bothers me when others are late. My favorite line- “then the wine is all mine”

Stacey Joy

Heidi, yes to all this and your 15 minutes too! I detest when people are chronically late. Love what you chose to focus on and it’s a perfect refrain!

?

Angie

thanks for the prompt and sharing Lucille Clifton’s ”wishes for sons”. I decided to write one for my students.

wishes for students 

i wish them peace
i wish them clarity and a calling
i wish them happiness, someday, even if not today
i wish them answers but maybe more importantly questions, to question everything, through a poem
i wish them more good shows to watch and their favorite team to win
and i wish them to win
i wish them something to believe in, that they would never sell out, but i also wish them acceptance, to accept and be accepted. let others in.
i wish them a breath, a moment to relax because too many of them are overwhelmed
i wish them things that they can count on, certainties, someone they can turn to who won’t let them down in this world of too much change and disappointment
and i wish them love that does not end.

Maureen Y Ingram

Angie, these are precious wishes for students. I really like

i wish them answers but maybe more importantly questions, to question everything, through a poem,”

and can only imagine how much our world might change for the better should we share more questions and wonder through poetry.

Cathy

This is beautiful. The line- “i wish them things that they can count on, certainties and someone they can turn to who won’t let them down- stood out to me because students have lived with so much uncertainty these last 2 years.

Stacey Joy

Hi Angie,
This line is a dream come true:

i wish them answers but maybe more importantly questions, to question everything, through a poem

Oh, the whole poem is a sweet wish that would change the sick world we are in!

Barb Edler

Maureen, thanks so much for hosting today. I love Lucille Clifton’s poetry. Thanks for the link, background and opportunity to write about truth. I found your poem especially humorous thinking about an app that would share politicians falsetto voices singing. I want to send a shout out to Susie, too, who helped me make an important decision about this particular poem.

End of the Semester Blues

4:30 am email read at 5:30 am:

i’ve been writing all night but my paper got deleted
can I please have more time to get it completed

the truth of the matter is
i
i
i
am feeling frustrated
i hate the end of the semester—cuz i hate
the pressure; the last minute ditch effort
the grade grubbing: please give me an A, a B, a C
trying to be fair—wondering, “were you ever really there?”
or were you too wrapped up in your phone—i just want to groan!

the truth of the matter is
i
i
i
need to find the perfect words
to help their ideas emerge
how can i help them when nothing’s there
feeling overwhelmed; so full of despair
the end of the semester draws near
the truth is, the grade is all they fear

Email reply at 5:31 a.m. read at ….who knows when:

oh my, I am sorry, what a fright
do your best to get it in tonight

Barb Edler
18 April 2022

Jennifer K

Barb, this poem is so spot on for all educators. For me, it’s about the overdue books. I think you just gave me the topic of my poem ?

Angie

I have (sadly?) not responded to too many emails this year. I’m sorry if you send me an email two days before grades are due saying “how can I make my grade higher” – I love the way you have added rhyme to a very regular occurrence in our lives.

Susie Morice

Barb — You really did capture my “-itis” that just plain pulsed from April till the 2nd week in June… whoof…it is a hard time in the classroom for sure. Doesn’t it make you scream for the ungraded classroom…the big revolutionary change in how we look at student work?! And English Language Arts teachers (and I really do believe this) work twice as hard as all the other teachers …students must write…teachers must write…and doing that means we are inundated with words at all levels of the learning spectrum…each kid wildly different…whoof! Hats off to the ELA teacher! Hugs to you all! Susie

Maureen Y Ingram

Barb, I love the window into a teacher’s world that you have shared here; I hear both frustration and deep caring…the technique of almost a stammering “i” is particularly clarifying I think, expressing the “oh my where do I even begin” that teachers are all feeling. Yet, you land on empathy – you land on trusting the student, and give them more time. This is the best teaching they can ever receive! Thank you for this poem.

Glenda M. Funk

Barb,
These “my paper got deleted” emails make me roll my eyes. Don’t they know Google docs saves automatically? And what does “writing all night” really mean? I love the single word “i” stanzas. The white space lets us fill in the unsaid that we’d like to say. I admit there were times I pretended not to see emails like the one you received. I’m ornery like that when I think a student is lying to me.

Kim Johnson

No one thinks of the toll it takes on the teacher when everyone wants to try to come sliding in to home plate at the bottom of the ninth inning. You nailed it!

Rob Karel

During the 2020 election I had a conversation via social media with someone who I grew up knowing and respecting. The conversation still bothers me and they are no longer in my life. I try to use it as a constant reminder to live what I preach.

The Sunday School Teacher

i was told god is love
to treat others how i would want
to have integrity
a pure heart

politics and religion don’t mix
i pushed back and i questioned
i pointed out the holes in the logic
“how can you support a person who is everything you preach against?”

“I’m getting what I want” was the reply
i paused and was speechless
it was quite the admission
i dug deep into my memories but i just can’t recall attending the church of st. machiavelli 

Maureen Y Ingram

May I simply start with being absolutely horrified at a Sunday school teacher expressing,

“I’m getting what I want” was the reply

?! This sends chills down my spine. Your poem expresses the reality of polarization in this country, how painful some relationships have become, how impossible in some cases. I’m so sorry for this loss of friendship, a loss that those expressed words made happen. I hope that we all continue to search for ways to reveal and name deceptions, to seek more perspective, and to listen to one another.

Susie Morice

Oh, Rob — So powerful. That final line drives the nail in this one. I faced that same hypocrisy today in my writing effort… Barb Edler gave me a heads-up that you and I were on the same page. Thank you for helping me not feel alone in this insanity. And a “Sunday School Teacher” at that… oh holy moses! I’ve heard that exact same line: “I’m getting what I want”…boy oh boy, doesn’t that reveal that ugly in this! What a mess we have become! Thank you for being here in testament today. Hats off! Susie

Glenda M. Funk

Rob,
Ive asked so many of Orangey’s supporters this question:
“how can you support a person who is everything you preach against?”
At least saying they’re getting what they want is honest. Church of st. machiavelli, indeed! Fantastic poem.

Nancy White

i wish
by nancy white

i wish they could walk with you
for just a day
hanging out with the poor and hungry

and if you said, “just keep passing around these
baskets of fish,”
they would just say, “ok.” 

they wouldn’t feel the need to pontificate 
or build cathedrals
or have business meetings or committees
of self important control freaks
with self important titles

there wouldn’t be a building fund
or any bitchin catchphrases to “attract”
the wayward soul.

therr would be acceptance 
and joy in each other’s company
with no agenda
except listening to one another
with empathy and saying, “ok,”
if you ask us to pass the fish.

i wish. 

Barb Edler

Nancy, Amen! I could not agree with the message of your poem. Love how you were able to end this with “pass the fish.” i wish…I thought that added a nice punch. How I, too, wish that there was a place without an agenda where people would listen with empathy. That would be heavenly! Love your poem! Thank you to speaking to my soul, today!

Barb Edler

Nancy, I meant to say I could not agree more with the message of your poem….oh my, I might have sounded a bit opposite of what I meant.

Nancy White

I got what you meant! Thanks so much, Barb! ?

Maureen Y Ingram

Nancy, this feels like a prayer, a fervent and beautiful prayer. I love the image of ‘passing the fish’; this world desperately needs:

i wish they could walk with you

for just a day

hanging out with the poor and hungry

Denise Hill

“with no agenda / except listening to one another / with empathy and saying, “ok,” / if you ask us to pass the fish.”

I LOVE this line because after going through all the ‘ranting’ in which I envision conference rooms filled with suits and babble, it comes down to this very human – very essential human – need of just having a meal. The true sustenance in our lives is the food we eat but also the company we keep. That simple image of ‘passing the fish’ at a meal to one another is beautiful. Nicely distilled here, Nancy.

Dave Wooley

Thanks Maureen for this prompt. There is so much to be angered by these days, so much to foment righteous outrage… Lucille Clifton is an inspiration. And your poem about lie detecting microphones jabs at the erosion of truthfulness in our discourse. It pointed the way to my poem.

when loving is a crime

i am a criminal.

in idaho, they want to give me a
life sentence for loving my daughter,
affirming her identity, disrupting dysphoria–
so please, lock me under the jail
throw away the key,
i am guilty as charged.

in texas, they want me investigated–
child abuse is the charge

in alabama, they are coming after our doctor, too…
kaye ivey, the Bull Connor of puberty blockers,
wants 10 years for doctors who dare
to care for women like my child

invisible walls of hate
are closing around us

borders of sanity disappear
under the shadow of guard towers

i take solace in knowing that
all walls eventually crumble
under their own weight.

Barb Edler

Dave, your poem does speak truth and powerfully. I love the way you open this poem. Loving your child should never be a crime. The hard facts of the hate swallowing reason is extremely disturbing. The line “borders of sanity disappear” is unfortunately the reality. Your last stanza is a wonderful close. Sometimes finding solace is difficult, but, I agree, “wall eventually crumble/under their own weight”. Keeping loving; keep fighting the good fight. Peace!

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Dave, your poem makes me sad, more worried, and mad all at the same time. How can it be criminal to love your child? To love anyone for who they are? Your use of walls – closing in, under guard tower shadows – is brilliant. And you even find hope for us in their crumbling demise. There’s certainly enough weight there now to bring them all down.

Maureen Y Ingram

Dave, your opening statement is so raw and bold and powerful –

i am a criminal.”

and I am sincerely hopeful that you are right,

all walls eventually crumble

under their own weight.

However, in the meanwhile, there is so much painful destruction being lobbed at innocent people – we are all lovable, we are each deserving of dignity. Your three stark stanzas delineating the latest state laws are succinct and scary. Blessings to your daughter – I am so happy she has you.

Jennifer K

Dave, your poem has struck a chord in me, the emotions your words brought forth bring tears. Prayers for you and your daughter.

Jamie Langley

you touch on so much – beginning with the reality of these newly crafted laws – walls and borders – where are the bridges – I like the hope in your end – eventually crumble
under their own weight.

Alex Berkley

Thanks for the prompt, Maureen! I love your inventive poem; brilliantly short and relatable!

your stomach is eating you

you look about two feet taller
ducking under the doorway
slowly moving around
a coffee table covered
in stacks of comics

your stomach is eating you
your frame doesn’t fit quite right
music doesn’t distract enough
so silence stuffs itself
into our talk

i’m remembering standing together
both holding drinks on Thanksgiving
but you’re talking
of a few Februarys in the future
and it grounds me

you will grow back into yourself
and this soon-to-be memory
will recede
like fish in a clouded sea
forget it when you’re free

Barb Edler

Alex, your poem is loving and provocative, and I think you are describing a son. I could be way off, but if I’m reading this right, I think you’ve captured well the sense a parent has of a child in the throes of a certain age, and knowing this too will change. Parenting is always challenging and patience is a priceless commodity. I love the final lines “like fish in a clouded sea/forget it when you’re free”. What a beautiful line!

Maureen Y Ingram

Alex, I hear hope and understanding in

you’re talking

of a few Februarys in the future

and it grounds me”

We grasp on to words of others, holding, savoring, trying to get perspective. I especially like your second stanza, with its playful juxtaposition of food words of “your stomach is eating you” with “so silence stuffs itself” – I think you are describing a child’s growth, and those snarly early teen years…am I right?
Thank you for this!

Denise Hill

Ha! Yes, this is one of those poems that could have multiple interpretations. I also thought of a young, gangly child – mostly boys – who eat their way through a parent’s paycheck, but the “drinks at Thanksgiving” threw me, since I thought of alcohol and the taboo in our society with kid-drinking. It could be someone who is going through medical treatments of some sort – made me think of so many people I’ve known with cancers. But the tone also reminded me of Wendy’s down below – she has two villanelles she wrote about her daughter. There are so many great lines in this poem. I also enjoyed “so silence stuffs itself / into our talk” and “music doesn’t distract enough.” I know that’s the reverse, but I like seeing them as standalone and not in that order. Just as their own lines, each of those is a great “prompt” line to inspire my creativity today – those are going in my art journal! Thanks, Alex!

ann

Thanks for starting my day with Lucille Clifton, one of my favorite poets. Such powerful messages hidden in the simplicity of her words! You poem offers the same balance. Perhaps you could work on developing that app…

so i learned
if you turn down the volume
horror movies aren’t scary. 
and when i see
the suited guy
in the pale pasty skin
opening his mouth
like the mamushi,
slicing space
with venomous words, 
i mute the volume
and apply anti-venom—

i write.
i pray for peace.

brcrandall

I learn to watch horror movies with a pillow over my face. Thank you for teaching me a new word today, Ann. Mamushi. Nice. Keep writing. Keep praying for peace.

Maureen Y Ingram

Ann, I am smiling in recognition at this first stanza – a friend had suggested a show to me just recently; upon viewing, I found myself all tied up in knots, until I lowered the volume on the ominous music that accompanied it and managed to welcome/understand the bigger story being told. You are right – there is a solution to today’s horrors all around us, simply –

i write.

i pray for peace.

This is the anti-venom the world needs, especially if we share our words in community, as we do here. We need to lower the volume on all the mamushis (love love love this!) and share our own voices. Thank you for this poem!

Emma Gould

Hi Ann! This volume hack during scary movies is something that I too pride myself on. Thanks for sharing!

Rhiannon Berry

Maureen,

What a cathartic moment for this day. I somehow have never known of Clifton’s work, but now I must read the works of a fellow woman warrior who, like me, wishes a tamponic life upon men.

I intentionally wrote before I read any other poems submitted today, yours included, so as to allow my topic of what bothers me (so much, these days, although I cling to hope) to be selected rather than inspired. However, it seems we share similar frustrations. I much prefer your wish. In truth, I think minion-voices would be far more effective than moral understandings, and that alone says enough.

Thank you for the moment to do some self-reflection, soul searching, and a better understanding of myself as I dig into what I truly wish upon another in times of frustration, a thought pattern I tend to avoid whenever possible.

(Side note: I’m amazed at how uncomfortably wrong it feels to publish without punctuation or capitalization while, at the same time, oddly liberating. I will atone to the grammar gods later.)

Wishes for those GOP gone astray

i wish the spirit of
of a moral code
would for a moment,
take hold

for a moment
they would see the truth of
harms they’ve bestowed

lies theyve known

thorns theyve grown

puppets theyve sewn

grenades theyve thrown

weapons theyve loaned

wars theyve owned

evils theyve honed

hatreds condoned
simply to call their office Home

i wish their hearts
to fill with shame

know theyre villains
of the game
know they hold
endless blame

and atone
atone
atone

brcrandall

The rhyme is working well for you, Rhiannon. I especially like the way these words cascaded down the page…

lies theyve known

thorns theyve grown

puppets theyve sewn

grenades theyve thrown

weapons theyve loaned

wars theyve owned

evils theyve honed

Maureen Y Ingram

Rhiannon, you have embraced Lucille Clifton’s spirit and form so well here! I am captivated by the lack of apostrophes especially (theyve, theyre), how these spellings add more force and conviction then when typed ‘according to the rules.’ Love this message of ‘atone’ – and I hear the painful wonder throughout, will they ever?

Scott M

What really burns me up – 
besides fire, scalding water, 
radiators that burble and spit, 
hissing steam, you know 
the usual stuff – is the
consistent and persistent
cropping up of the lowercase
“I” that I’m seeing of late
in my students’ emails, texts, 
essays, you name it, any 
and all of their correspondences.

This “i” speaks much more
than some grammar snafu 
or some lazy, too-tired-to-hit- 
the-shift-key conundrum. 

It seems to me with Spell Check 
and autofill this becomes
a conscious choice, 
a deliberate action 
or reaction to self, 
to the belief 
that you are enough 
that you should be 
capitalized 
that you
matter.

I wish they would see that
“I” is the only personal pronoun
that is capitalized no matter
where it falls in a sentence
and that this is not just a 
“grammar rule.” 
This is a fundamental
statement on self esteem
and self worth.

They deserve to be
uppercase and to see
themselves as uppercase,
to finally believe that the votes
are in and the Is have it.

___________________________________

Maureen, thank you for this cool prompt!  I loved your poem.  (We certainly need an app that stops politicians from lying – or, at least, lets everyone know that they’re lying via Minion’s song.)  This is a great idea!  (And my reaction to the lowercase “I” is not, of course, against its use as deliberate poetic technique as Lucille Clifton and so many of our other poets here have done today.  Did I even need to mention this?  Probably not.  Lol.  But better to be safe than sorry.)

Rhiannon Berry

Scott,

I love the truth of this poem…how incredibly depressing it is that students cannot see themselves “worthy” of the capital I.

I (capitalized) admit that I’ve never considered these lines you’ve written:

This is a fundamental
statement on self esteem
and self worth”

The power of simple capitalization to simply to declare, “I am. I exist.” Thought provoking in many ways. Thank you for the mental nugget to chew on for today.

gayle

Scott—the disappearing “I”. I have begun to see more of it—and have wondered why. It it because we see less of ourselves online, and become one of the pack? A small i? (And autocorrect didn’t catch that—a message from above, maybe?)

Maureen Y Ingram

Scott, that is a fascinating trend you have noticed in students’ writing! I have no experience with this (as a retired preschool teacher)…however, it certainly beats the flowery heart I and my peers used to always write instead of a dot, when I was in middle school, hahaha. I agree with you wholeheartedly with the hope that students feel they are enough – and I love your final five words of declaration,

and the Is have it.

but seeing Lucille Clifton’s use of “i,” I also have a wonder…if in fact

this becomes

a conscious choice, 

a deliberate action 

or reaction to self, 

my wonder is – does this generation feel/seek more of a universal connection, are they shredding the old egotistical bent and seeking something more for all? Are they being revolutionary? You’ve got me wondering.

Nancy White

I noticed this same trend when I was teaching high school. I think using the lower case i is just one of the many ways teens play around with their identity. That, coupled with rebellion against rules, copying one another, and trying to look cool is understandable and normal. Yet, it would drive me crazy and I’d always make sure they knew I noticed and would take off points for it in any formal writing. I agree with you on
“They deserve to be
uppercase and to see
themselves as uppercase”
Amen to that!

Angie

The lowercase I everywhere boggles my mind – like on all my devices/docs etc it autocorrects the lowercase I, whyyyyyyy?!? Do they do this? But then I’m like well it’s a letter like what, why does it even matter? It’s pronounced the same, why is it even capitalized in the first place? Good thoughts in this poem about it. I will talk to my students about this tomorrow.

Emily Yamasaki

Cart Return
By: Emily Yamasaki

Return the
shopping cart

we learn the principle early

Return What You Borrow

we could raise the hourly salary

collecting $1 for every
irresponsible patron

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Emily!

Love this thread of shopping carts emerging. Bryan mentioned them, which made me think about them, and now your poem imagining what could be possible if we only followed the principle. “irresponsible patron” is such a kind way of putting it!

Sarah

brcrandall

AMEN! They should be fined!

Maureen Y Ingram

Absolutely succinct and clear, Emily! I love the suggestion, a wonder plus a proposed fix. I want to echo Sarah, it is so fun to see this burgeoning theme of shopping carts!

Rob Karel

I love this. I saw something once that said the shopping cart is the simplest test of seeing if you are a good person. No one enforces it, it’s just the right thing to do. Ever since I grab every stray cart I see. I loved that I could feel your frustration but that you could find the humor.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Emily, there’s an idea! We have lost so much of our courtesy for others and this small act, one that takes little time, makes such a difference!

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

wishes for prosers

i wish them rhyme
i wish them a cashier
who waxes poetic
i wish a receipt in
black out poetry

i wish them evening
news by clifton & work
memos by june jordan
i wish them meetings
the length of haiku

later i wish their texts
only held internal rhyme
& their eyes began to see
symbolism in mud, to hear
meter in shopping cart turns,
their skin to feel the sun in
a smile.

let them linger longer
when they recognize
verse in your words,
then bring them in to
whisper it’s all poetry

Rhiannon Berry

Sarah,

Your poem was simply a delight in every possible way. I was smiling the moment my terrible eyes first misread your title as “posers” before quickly realizing my error. As one who fell away from the world of poetry for the past five years, your depiction of the “prosers” is spot on. So many rules, so much literal existence. I absolutely love these lines:

i wish them a cashier
who waxes poetic
i wish a receipt in
black out poetry.”

How I now desire to take my many receipts floating around and find the poetry in every one of them. Having returned to poetry for eighteen days now, I can’t agree more with you — “It’s all poetry.” Snap, snap.

gayle

This month really gives us your gift of poetry, Sarah. I was going to select just one stanza as my favorite, but then there was another and another. And I realized—it’s all poetry. Thank you!

brcrandall

Sarah, a meeting the length of a haiku would be a gift to us all (beautiful). And yes, wonderful! It’s all poetry!

Maureen Y Ingram

Sarah, what a beautiful ode to poetry-writing – I especially love all the sensory elements woven in here, such pleasurable physical experiences to describe this mental play:

& their eyes began to see

symbolism in mud, to hear

meter in shopping cart turns,

their skin to feel the sun in

a smile.

Plus, the use of ampersand instead of the word is a playful use of punctuation that rivets the eye.
Just a beautiful poem!

Angie

“A receipt in blackout poetry” is lovely. Love everything about this poem for “prosers” especially that word!

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Indeed, it is all poetry. I love the play on the title. My favorite image is the black out poetry receipt – vivid, pointed, and somehow likely. And that whisper at the end – I’m reminded of Robin Williams whispering carpe diem behind the Dead Poet boys.

Stephenos

If I could sleep
through one full night
without waking up
with my pulse in my ears
or around my neck,
I would sob in elation at dawn.
But the thoughts
I put off in the day
bore holes in the flesh
of my mind while I sleep,
where I pull the drowned bodies
of the ones I love
out of the night-terror ether.

This is my circadian rhythm.

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Wow, Stephenos. This line “I would sob in elation at dawn.” I, too, share this wish, and your poem captures so vividly the “bore holes” and “drowned bodies” the sounds of the “o” and “d” are haunting! Wishing you rest.

Peace,
Sarah

Stephenos

Thank you so much for the feedback!

ann

I share the same circadian rhythm, though I have never been able to express it quite so well. “bore holes in the flesh of my mind..pull the drowned bodies of the ones i love…” wow. wow. wow.

Stephenos

High-five for being a part of the sleepless club! Thank you so much for the feedback, I appreciate it 🙂

Maureen Y Ingram

This idea of

the day

bore holes in the flesh

of my mind 

is so evocative, a frightening description of how our minds MUST work through things, and how our deepest fears come out at night. This is powerful, Stephenos.

Stephenos

Thank you so much, Maureen!

Nancy White

Stephenos, I love the lines “bore holes in the flesh of my mind while I sleep” as it makes me feel the agony of night terrors. Thankfully, I’ve only had a few. But, my heart goes out to you and anyone who goes through this on a regular basis. I wish I knew hopeful solutions to this type of circadian rhythm. I hope and pray you find some help for this. Excellent poem.

Stephenos

Awww thank you so much for the response! I appreciate the encouragement!

Rob Karel

I appreciate you sharing. You were able to say so much in so few lines. Your imagery is vividly succinct and pulled me right into your mind. I hope you are able to find rest soon!

Stephenos

Thank you so much, Rob!

Wendy Everard

Stephenos, what a haunting image. Gorgeous!

Stephenos

Thank you!

Glenda M. Funk

medical mansplaining  

i find delight in
imagining far right 
pseudo-males crying 
their testosterone 
levels are too low as
snake oil salesmen 
hock infrared light
testicle tanning with 
junk science 
bromeopathic therapy 
as curative. they’ve learned 
nothing from ingesting 
hydroxychloriquine.
i guess that’s what 
happens when you’re 
a horse’s ass who
decides to roast 
your balls.

—Glenda Funk
April 18, 2022

Here’s a link to the clip that inspired my poem today. It’s on Twitter and from Tucker Carlson’s show. His voice is so annoying.
https://twitter.com/ronfilipkowski/status/1515817464533291018?s=21&t=y7gv9q6XQQI35EOTxTGijw

——-
Maureen,
This prompt is perfect. I knew immediately what I’d write about. I love the Lucille Clifton poem. Your poem is brilliant. I wish microphones detected lies in politicians, too. Love it. Thank you!

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Whoa! I love this, Glenda. Like it just flowed right out of you in one breath — the rhythm is that good. Oh my, this:

testicle tanning with 
junk science 

That alliteration is princeless.

Sarah

Dave Wooley

“Bromeopathic therapy”

I’m dead. LOLOL!!!

ann

Glenda, this is perfect. PERFECT. and I will be chuckling about it all day!

gayle

Glenda—I am so tired of the tongue-in-cheek (crotch) commercials about older men increasing their stamina, with a washed-up athlete smiling his high-testosterone smile. But I had not run into testicle tanning. Must share this with my husband!! Amazing rant, my friend!

brcrandall

Dang, Glenda! BOOM! You perfected the poetic challenge for today.

Maureen Y Ingram

Oh my, Glenda, I am shaking my head with incredulity – thank you for the clip, I am not sure I would have entirely understood without this, hahaha My goodness, there are so many ways to make money in this world, as many as there are fools I guess. I really do enjoy the way this reads with the small i! These words made me laugh out loud,

they’ve learned 

nothing from ingesting 

hydroxychloriquine

Thank you so much for this poem, Glenda!

Rob Karel

Glenda, you are my hero and my new best friend! I love that you allowed this to be so raw and honest. Now I feel bad for protecting the identity of my poem subject lol. Unfortunately for some people it takes way too much to learn anything. There’s a special place for Tucker Carlson (and his annoying voice) from the lies he knowingly spreads.

Barb Edler

Glenda, your end is priceless. I am laughing so hard, I have tears in my eyes. I can just see you toasting those balls over an open campfire in Idaho. I think I have to write a short story, and you will be the heroine! I so needed a laugh today. I haven’t checked out the link yet, but thanks, I will open it soon which will most likely just make me go a little bit more crazy. “Testicle tanning!” Oh my!

Angie

AHHHHHHH THE LAST 5 lines OMG! I need to attach the meme where the kid runs around in circles after a roast! ✊?

Kim Johnson

Can I just say that I absolutely love this and there aren’t enough words to say all of why? You just landed a quintuple axle on the heels of a back flip in the Olympics and took gold.

Word Dancer

I know Lucille Clifton mainly for her children’s poetry. It was wonderful to see and hear her voice. She inspired me to write this poem. What a great prompt, Maureen. Thank you!

Poetry is a Way
(For Lucille Clifton)

i am a poet,
i don’t have all the answers,
Lucille was right:
Poetry is a way
Of living in the world,
Of expressing
Something difficult.
i don’t have all the answers,
i am a poet
With so many questions.
It’s not what i know,
It’s what i wonder…
Will there be another pandemic?
How do the frogs know how to sing?
Will the people of Ukraine remain free?
What is the name of those blue flowers
that wildly bloom along the highway?
Will there ever be a cure for cancer,
A remedy for old age?
i am a poet,
i don’t have all the answers,
i am full of wonder,
i am seeking peace,
In this one world.

Maureen Y Ingram

I love your repetition of

i am a poet,

i don’t have all the answers

and the wide range of your questions underscores the beauty of this art of poetry-writing. Thank you for this!

Heidi

I like I am a poet, I don’t have all the answers at the beginning
followed by I am a poet with so many questions in the middle
then I am a poet with so many questions, it’s not what i know, it’s what i wonder
and ending with I am a poet, I don’t have all the answers.

This really made the poem flow so nicely and I also love the last 3 lines. I look to poetry to help me find my way through the questions to the answers, both when reading and writing.

Kim Johnson

Oh, all of this…..these wonderful questions…..and my heart stays with the Texas Bluebonnets blooming along the highways because of Lady Bird Johnson’s commitment to beautification. In this one world……how lovely!

Derek Ash

just focus, buckle down
my find wanders, time ticks down
you consider me lazy
dont worry, so do i
it creates a distain for myself, am i crazy?

i really do care i promise
and if i am being honest?
although it angers me to the core
i would not change it
my life would be a bore

Wendy Everard

Derek, I love the tensions in your poem as you consider how you’re viewed from the outside vs. how you view yourself. A succinct way of exploring yourself — as Clifton said in the video above — of pondering how to be in the world.

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Derek!

This line struck me as particularly wonderful: “my find wanders,”

I so enjoy thinking about this sensation and how wonderful it is that I was so happy to find the second to last line “i would not change it.” Indeed. Indeed.

Peace,
Sarah

Maureen Y Ingram

Your poem is filled with contradictions, opposing thoughts, reminding me of the self-talk ‘arguments’ I often have just as I sit down to write. This line shows how we beat on ourselves

it creates a distain for myself, am i crazy?

I love how you land in acceptance, not wanting to change who you are. Thank you for this poem!

Susan Ahlbrand

I love Lucille Clifton and this prompt, but my mind went in a different direction this morning.

But It’s Not Their Fault

We gripe about their laziness
their disrespect 
their sludge. 
But it’s not their fault. 

We give them ipads 
phones and devices 
then wonder where 
their wonder went. 
But it’s not their fault. 

We put things on canvas
and do bellringers
and exit slips
yet question why we 
don’t get to know them
without the chitchat 
the often fills the small spaces.
But it’s not their fault. 

We build lessons 
around standards 
created and required 
by politicians 
and ask where their 
creativity went.
But it’s not their fault.  

We shove them into 
travel sports and lessons 
while they still want to color
and build castles from cardboard 
and we ask why they can’t 
entertain themselves. 
But it’s not their fault.

They’ve been raised by us
taught by us
coached by us
mentored by us.
We lament who they are.
But it’s not their fault.

~Susan Ahlbrand
18 April 2022

Wendy Everard

Susan, I just loved this whole poem, but especially Stanza 3: AMEN. Also, I loved the way you played on the the word “wonder”‘ and I loved your refrain at the end of each stanza. 🙂

Emily Yamasaki

We give them ipads 

phones and devices 
then wonder where 
their wonder went. 
But it’s not their fault. 

Wow! I often wonder how imagination and creativity is fostered or diminished before kids make it to their first year of school.

gayle

Susan—you nailed it. With every “it’s not their fault”, I nodded. Where to place the blame? Everyone? Everywhere?

Maureen Y Ingram

Susan, thank you for sharing this! Your poem resonated with me, how we critique students for lack of success in a system of our own construct. The repetition of “But it’s not their fault.” at the end of each stanza is particularly powerful.

Heidi

WOW! SO TRUE!! One of my favorite lines was “we wonder where their wonder went”- so effective! The repeating of “It’s not their fault” really hit the reader over and over again like a WAKE UP!!! Every parent in America should see this.

gayle

Maureen-your lie detector app for microphones is genius!! I really look forward to all those falsetto vowels. Thank you for the inspiration, and for reminding me how much I enjoy Clifton’s work. Two poems emerged today, so I will put this one up, as well. It is resentful, but about a different, more personal issue.

Wait. Weight…

I want to be thin again.
No, begin again…
ThinnER.
That’s the winner.

I’ll settle for my girth,
post-twins birth.
That would be fine.
THAT waistline

due to conception, 
was an aberration.
Temporary.
Lacking tenacity.

The inches today 
won’t just go away.
At least, not without effort.
These fat cells are obstinate.

Winter clothes conceal 
what summer clothes reveal.
My reckoning is 
beckoning.

The diet starts today.

GJSands #2
4/18/2022

Wendy Everard

Haha! Amen to this poem. Totally made me laugh and recognize myself in every stanza. Loved your wordplay and:
No, begin again…
ThinnER.
That’s the winner.”

Love it.

Maureen Y Ingram

Gayle, I know this feeling all too well! What is it about aging that slows everything down so? These clever rhymes:

Winter clothes conceal 

what summer clothes reveal.

explain succinctly why I love cooler weather! hahaha
Also – a mother of twins! That is so wonderful, an experience I always dreamed of – not sure why the allure, I just thought it would be so awesome.

gayle

It’s overrated… 🙂

Glenda M. Funk

Gayle,
This articulates my daily struggle. Making the diet merry-go-round worse is the cruel truth fat cells never go away. All winter I remind myself I’ll shed the winter clothing and face spring bulge, so maybe go sow on the bread. Love your title!

Stefani B

Maureen, thank you for bringing in Clifton’s work and this short video clip. I appreciate your political “call out” and wonder if Siri is already tracking all we say anyhow;)
It felt good to write this morning and my Monday is starting out brighter than my poem portrays (even with spring snow showers outside).
——–

alcohol or the f-ing feelings wheel?
 
it comes in pillow form
when anger brews
the foam that tops it 
should come in a 
a form or recognition of
the fermenting roots of
what drives the anger
infuriated with your response
hostile toward your words
betrayed by your actions
f*#k that, please
at that moment
punching the pillow
hurling it across the room
or at someone
ripping it into threads
where the wheel can
no longer spin
unhealthy or not
sometimes it’s best to grab a beer
to chug the bitterness away

——-
https://feelingswheel.com/

feeling wheel.jpeg
Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Stefani,

I had so many, ahem, feelings reading this poem — each time the bitterness lessening because of your clever verse, quick pace, and sharp commentary. I love the pillow and the wheel metaphors intersecting at insufficient, giving way for the chug.

Peace,
Sarah

Wendy Everard

Stefani, I have never, ever seen this feelings wheel (I feel like it has “in-service” written all over it). Love the stream-of-consciousness feel to your poem, love the anger and passion here:
f*#k that, please
at that moment”

Great poem!!

Maureen Y Ingram

Stefani, such an incisive exploration of how anger builds in our bodies – and how fruitless it can feel to suppress it. Your use of beer words throughout is very clever, building momentum…and I wonder if you, in fact, found the perfect remedy for anger – the mighty pen and poetry-writing!

gayle

To the Board of Ed Member 
on the Day They Teach My Class

Thank you for covering my class today.
We have no substitutes and 
three teachers resigned this week.

You’ll do fine.
Just follow the curriculum
Anyone could do it if they

would just focus on the students,
instead of their egos.
(isn’t that what you said at the last meeting?)

Good luck.
No, really.
You will need it.

The copier is recalcitrant 
and out of paper, anyway.
It’s on order, here next week.

Oh, and the wi-fi is down, 
should be up soon.
Just take attendance and have Billy take it down.

He might not come back right away, 
but the class will be much quieter 
with him out of the room.

I’ve left detailed lesson plans.
Just pull up the presentation on the…
…computer.

Oh, dear. Guess you’ll have to 
come up with something.

It shouldn’t be a problem.
Anyone can do this job.

GJSands
4/18/2022

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Gayle,

I was here mustering up the feelings, searching for words to also address admin, and here you’ve done it so well. thank you. That “anyone can do this job” is such the case here with alt and emergency certifications. I don’t even know where to begin. And this thread of technology with wi-fi, computers and tech dependences is so …”Oh, dear.” Love this.

Sarah

Wendy Everard

Gayle, this poem is THE BEST. Stanza 3 made me exclaim out loud. Just perfect. <3

Emily Yamasaki

Oh my word. This poem. I love the repetition of “anyone can do this job”. I feel seen!

Jennifer

Wow. What a wonderful poem that tells it like it is. The last three stanzas pack a powerful punch. This needs to circulate!

Maureen Y Ingram

Gayle, there is much truth in your humor here, calling out the ridiculousness and condescension of “Anyone can do this job,” thoughts chorused too often by non-teachers, I think. This stanza really stunned me,

would just focus on the students,

instead of their egos.

(isn’t that what you said at the last meeting?)

I am offended at the message – ‘students versus egos’ ? We are not to deal with students’ conscious minds? Whaaaat?

Dave Wooley

That first stanza so perfectly captures where we all are right now. This is brillant.

Scott M

Gayle, Chef’s Kiss! (I’ve never actually written that out before, so there’s that..lol.) Your poem is so spot-on! So funny! (And side note: I would have written this comment earlier, but our school wi-fi was, in fact, down. It made it a little difficult to “follow the plan” first hour, so there was a bit of tap dancing that occurred. Lol. (Wouldn’t it be weird, if I confessed that I actually just tap danced all first hour and didn’t, instead, spend time explaining parenthetical documentation?))

Glenda M. Funk

Gayle,
I love everything about this poem, the tone, the title, the form, the honesty. I chuckled reading about Billy skipping out of class and nodded knowingly at everything else. I have said for years everyone thinks they’re an expert on education and teaching because they’ve sat in the little student desk. And oh my, did three teachers resign in one week?

gayle

In 2022…poetic license…

Mo Daley

Perfect, Gayle. Just how I’m feeling today!

brcrandall

Good Morning, Maureen…Lucille Clifton’s wisdom on a Monday morning was exactly the kick-off I needed for a new week. I appreciate the opportunity to concisely script a poem with a mini-punch. I, too, would appreciate an app for politicians that blares lies cartoonishly as they are blurted into the mic (oh, to be ‘united’ with such enlightenment). My pet peeve has been with me for decades and I can’t seem to outgrow it.

Gripe
  ~b.r.crandall

It’s not because
Cheerios 
hit the blue 
bowl at 6 a.m.
and the last cow
somehow escaped
the fridge.

It’s not because
Nick the neighbor
was bellyaching  
about gas prices
while latching
4-wheelers 
& a jeep
to a trailer
pulled by his wife’s S.U.V. —
they’re mud-bogging 
this week
in Massachusetts
with family and friends.

It’s not because
texting turds
were terrorizing traffic,
tautly tantalized by
Floofnoodles 
on Tik Tok. 

It’s because
stray wheeled cages
meant for shopping
were abandoned 
by muttonheads,
only to play
bumper cars
in the Big Y
parking lot
assisted by 
the wind.

Stefani B

Bryan, your third stanza’s alliteration and imagery are entertaining and impressive. I can’t stop laughing at “texting turds”…thank you for this on a Monday morning.

Word Dancer

Oh – this is great! Love so many words: mutton heads, stray wheeled cages, tautly tantalized, mud-bogging, bellyaching.

And my favorite stanza:

It’s not because
Cheerios 
hit the blue 
bowl at 6 a.m.
and the last cow
somehow escaped
the fridge.

JUST PERFECT! Thank you!

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Bryan,

Thank you for this clever gripe that made me at giggle while shaking my head and rolling my eyes — lots of agility this Monday morning. That image of “stray wheeled cages” is fabulous especially because you name the culprit. Agh, so maddening.

Peace,
Sarah

Wendy Everard

Hehee. Beautiful and perfect. Love the fun and alliteration of Stanza 3 (and I learned a new word! Floofnoodles!). And, boy those lazy, lazy shoppers: do I get it!

Maureen Y Ingram

This pet peeve resonates with me, too, because I simply wonder if we have all just given up. Does anyone care in the slightest way for others? And, yes, grocery carts have been playing bumper cars since they were first introduced, I am sure, so I am perhaps catastrophizing ordinary actions. Thank you for putting this all in humorous perspective! I love all the fun ‘frustrated words’ – muttonheads, Floofnoodles, bellyaching – and I always enjoy alliteration, especially when it is so humorously constructed as it is here:

texting turds
were terrorizing traffic,
tautly tantalized by
Floofnoodles 
on Tik Tok. 

These are tongue twisters we should all memorize!

gayle

What she said, Bryan 9and everyone else. Love this!!!

Dave Wooley

Bryan-

The second stanza is perfect. It reminds me of Jordan Klepper at a Trump rally.

ann

Bryan, you must be a morning person or how else could you so creatively capture colorful morning detail from the runaway cow to the runaway cages? Nick the neighbor…texting turds…stray wheeled cages…Amazing.

Rhiannon Berry

Bryan,

The dings on my car from rogue shopping carts in the wind applaud you calling out the muttonheads of our world.

But the royalty of this poem arrives in the third stanza:

“texting turds
were terrorizing traffic,
tautly tantalized by
Floofnoodles 
on Tik Tok.”

You had me at Floofnoodles. Is this on Uban Dictionary yet? I can’t bear to look, although it would be a delightful test of the algorithms. “Because you showed interest in Floofnoodles, we thought you may be interested in…”

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Oy! I can’t figure out which gripe hits home the most! There’s something about those mud-boggers though that really irritates. The aggravation resulting from the muttonheads and the damage their carelessness causes would realistically be the worst, however. I greatly appreciate the humor today!

Glenda M. Funk

Bryan,
Id call this a pile on poem. As if no milk, a neighbor with no knowledge of global inflation and his own privilege, and tik tok took a downward turn weren’t enough, the damn shopping cards careened into parked cars. This aptly illustrates a tipping point. Love the alliteration in the tik tok turn. Great poem.

Kim Johnson

I love all of the what-it’s-not-becauses before you get to the reason for the gripe. Every one is reason enough – – but muttonheads abandoning shopping carts at the BigY when it’s windy…..well, that just takes the cake. High Five!

Charlene Doland

So… I looked up Floofnoodles, because I figured it was an imaginary word you invented, Bryan. Only to discover… it is real! Which leads me to ask… how do YOU know about Floofnoodles? This was a very entertaining poem, thank you!

Jennifer

undergrads on zoom
my end of semester gloom

few faces only their name
it isn’t at all the same

they’re always asking me to repeat
whenever online we meet

i cajole them while not being mean
to put on their stupid screen

hopefully i will never teach like this again
can’t wait to be alive, amen

Stefani B

Ugh, Jennifer, I hear you! I’ve added live notes to all of my digital synchronous settings to attempt to avoid this (students take turns collaborating on these). I recently tried Kumo Space as well, it has a bit more potential for interaction but will not get you anywhere near that “alive” feeling of in-person. Good luck these last few weeks of the higher ed. semester.

Word Dancer

Wonderful prayer, Jennifer. Good to keep your wits and humor about you!

Wendy Everard

Jennifer,
Loved this prayer that actually read like one with its couplets and rhyme scheme; made me laugh out loud.

Maureen Y Ingram

Jennifer, your use of rhyming couplets offer light to what has clearly been a depressing challenge in teaching these past semesters, light that your last stanza names so beautifully:

hopefully i will never teach like this again

can’t wait to be alive, amen



Julie E Meiklejohn

Maureen, I had heard of Lucile Clifton and read a few of her poems, but I never knew her story. This is amazing, and it makes me feel like there’s hope for me to be able to carve out writing time in the midst of a busy life! I love your line “as Minions singing”…this is a true example of what a metaphor is intended to do. I had an immediate, clear image (and sound!) in my head. Love it!

Here’s mine, after a rough weekend with the nearly 10-year-old and the nearly 23-year-old (I have a BIG gap!)

Guidance

i wish that
kids came with instruction manuals
incessant whining
(or disappearing altogether)
when chore time comes?
push this button
existential angst?
wiggle this wire just so
stomping feet and sassing back?
try this special tool,
conveniently supplied for you
in the very bag this manual came in
impossible, scary questions?
call this help line
and a soothing voice
will come on the line
and talk you down
remind you that
there are no easy answers…
and that’s OK.

Stefani B

Julie, thank you for writing about this, I almost went in the parenting direction today as well. Your last line sums it up…it is okay, there are not easy answers. A manual would be amazing though;) Thank you for sharing and I hope your week of parent goes well.

Maureen Y Ingram

Julie, you have captured such a vivid snapshot of what it is to parent! I have often wished there was some sort of “freeze” spell that I could cast – just so I could take a breath and figure out my next move. I adore your suggestions of technology, especially this idea of simple wires malfunctioning –

wiggle this wire just so

stomping feet and sassing back?

Throughout your poem, I hear love and patience, too. That little ‘i’ here really speaks to the universality of your feelings, I think.

Barb Edler

Wendy, what a delightful poem. Oh, boy, how I could have benefitted from a manual. Your end is so extra special….yes, “there are no easy answers…/and that’s OK.” Perfect final lines! Awesome poem!

Barb Edler

I’m tired….I meant to say Julie! Sorry.

Wendy Everard

Maureen, I can’t thank you enough for this prompt. While I know of Lucille Clifton, I now know her much better, as I dug into her life, inspired by you! (And, btw, she is from my hometown of Depew, NY! Who knew?). Loved the poem that you shared by her: wow. And the video I kept and am planning to show to my Creative Writing class.

I loved your piece about pontificating politicians! It was whimsical, and I share your sentiments. Loved the way “united in enlightenment” rang on the ear. Just a great prompt, all around, so thanks!

Here is my offering for the day, dedicated to my teen, who scares me and amazes, irks me and awes me all at the same time.

Thirteen: Two Villanelles
 
She huddles in her nest, both day and night
Content, it seems, but, somehow, just as blue.
Her wings, bedewed, too heavy to take flight.

Her world is upside down, too wrong to right.
This heaviness uncovers something new
And in her eyes a darkness now alights.

Unasked for answers, more alarm than fright,
and resignation settles in as true.
Her eyes–they’re grim.  Her mouth–a line, set tight.

I watch in fear:  She’s lost the will to fight.
Another’s robbed her of herself:  But who?
And in her eyes a darkness now alights.

I pray a turnabout:  from wrong to right. 
(Though innocence, I know, has bid adieu.)
 Her eyes–they’re grim.  Her mouth–a line, set tight.

She teeters on the line twixt black and white
A creature both unknowable and knew.
And in her eyes, a darkness now alights:
Her eyes–they’re grim.  Her mouth–a line, set tight.
 
________________________________________________

Thirteen, Take Two

But stars that guide a vessel keep it true.
And, in her eyes, there often shines a light,
yet undeterred by winds that blow askew.

Arises, then, the girl that I once knew.
A rose, undamaged by the threat of blight:
Youth and beauty kindled now anew.

Wit and wisdom from her lips issue,
and lies within her unexpected fight–
a creature both unknowable and new.

This strange, sad bird surprises me–it’s true.
Within her lies a steady second sight.
Youth and beauty kindled now anew.

The lightness of her laugh can then undo
The iron will and clamped lip, so tight,
A creature both unknowable and new.

Seen by her, I’m forced to see her, too.
She lifts aside her veil of seeming night–
Youth and beauty kindled now anew:
A creature both unknowable and new.

Jennifer

I’m impressed with the structure of the villanelles. That’s not easy to do. Wonderful poem about your teen,

Maureen Y Ingram

There are definitely two sides (at least!) to a thirteen year old’s personality, and your villanelles capture this beautifully. When faced with the grim, we must will ourselves to remember the “lightness of her laugh.” I love the repetition of “A creature both unknowable and new.”

Denise Hill

Seriously – I struggle with this form, and here you can crank out two of them! Impressive in its own right! But the content – so spot on. I WAS that teen, absolutely, and can remember the shadowy darkness, the hibernating year-round – only nowadays, reading something like this, the kinds of darkness teens grow up with is so so so much worse. The possibilities of what could cause their withdrawal so much more terrifying. I commend any parent who can steer their youth – and themselves – through these times. This line seems to be the truth of the ‘weight’ that keeps her nested: “Her wings, bedewed, too heavy to take flight.” No matter what she has experienced, she is yet too young. Which is good – in keeping her still protected a while longer. Lovely pair you have shared here today, Wendy. And good luck with the parenting/adulting!

Heather Morris

Well, it took me a while to choose what to write about. The poems I have read below are powerful. Thank you for another great prompt to get our creative juices flowing.

Technology
is at our
fingertips
in our hands
in front of
our faces
in the car
on the couch
in bed
in our schools-
ubiquitous-
it must be
changing us
we must be
adapting to it.
i remember
the days
when my
hands and eyes
were immersed
in the natural
world

Jennifer

Yes, the natural world days, free from technology…if we could only go back in time. And yes, I also believe it is changing us…

Maureen Y Ingram

Heather, I feel this same loss. The brief lines of your poem create this wistful, wondering tone –

it must be

changing us

we must be

adapting to it

How are we changing ourselves, depriving ourselves of so much nature? Thank you for sharing this.

Barb Edler

Heather, I really like the structure of your poem. The list of how technology has overtaken our life which makes those last final words ring powerfully. “hands and eyes/were immersed in the natural/ world”. Yes, I need more of this. Provocative and excellent poem!

Glenda M. Funk

Heather,
This is poignant. Technology is changing us because it’s tied to surveillance capitalism. I just finished reading “Stolen Focus,” a book that addresses the ubiquitous place of tech and why as individuals we can’t solve the problem. It’s a systemic problem.

cmargocs

Maureen, I am grateful to you for sharing a new-to-me poet, and for your spot-on poem. Here’s my attempt at oh-dark-thirty:

consumerism v. altruism

i wish
there were more
ads about giving

not the ones with
the abandoned,
flea-bitten dogs
or the abandoned
Russian Jews

we need ads
that expound
the joy of giving
dopamine
oxytocin
serotonin
get me
hooked on that

instead of telling me
i can
look younger
be a better person
fit in better
if i keep on buying
what your selling
leaving me
in a constant state
of buyer’s remorse
and survivor’s guilt.

Kim Johnson

Amen to the simple life – to rejecting the fountain of youth and embracing the wisdom of the ages. We are such a materialistic species, aren’t we? I recently visited the Foxfire Museum in north Georgia, and as I made my way through those rustic homes and saw the models of the giving gardens that they had and the bare necessities to tackle what needed doing, my heart yearned for a simpler way of life. Why can’t we live more like our great grandparents, appreciating the things we have….the generation who fixed things and fixed things and fixed things instead of buying the latest model? You make us think this morning!

Maureen Y Ingram

Thank you for this! Wouldn’t this be a paradigm shift for the whole world?! Imagine the difference, if advertising could

expound

the joy of giving

dopamine

oxytocin

serotonin

and we all got

hooked on that

That would be amazing!

Glenda M. Funk

Christine,
Recently I read the book “Less is More: How Degrowth Will Save Our Planet.” It’s a brilliant look at how advertisers create false needs that make us want stuff. Capitalism depends on growth, and so I read your poem as political and prescient to our climate crisis. We’re made to be unsatisfied w/ what we have by advertisers. It’s an upside down paradigm. I hope one day your wish comes true.

Kevin Hodgson

On this morning,
in April, in the moment
when the rising sun
embraces the distant sea:
that’s the poem
I yearn to be

— Kevin

Kim Johnson

Kevin,you are this poem every day. You see the world with eyes of a poet, take a snapshot with your pen, and develop the film that shows your thoughts. You are that poem.

Heather Morris

This is music to my ears. I can picture this vividly, and it is where I yearn to be.

Maureen Y Ingram

Such a precious ode to poetry! Yes,

that’s the poem

I yearn to be

Charlene Doland

Kevin, my experience is that you are this poem every day, facing situations and audiences with compassion and empathy, and truly seeing them.

Fran Haley

Maureen, thank you for this intriguing challenge and for the amazing offerings today. I want to hug Clifton. Truly. Your idea about lie detectors projecting Minion voices is hilarious; it would certainly simplify things with possibly LESS absurdity… being “united in enlightenment” would be a restful gift of a thing, for sure.

My poem is 22 lines at the moment but am letting it go – again, thank you!

Dichotomies

humans
are a dichotomous race
desperately desiring
dutifully demanding
historically unable
to extend grace
at least
each other-ward

the tome of our existence
a work in progress
pages of pain
penned in blood

some say that babies are a sign
that the world should go on

forgetting that worlds go on
without humans at all

although my dog doesn’t think so

there’s hope
isn’t there
as long as dogs
haven’t given up
on us

cmargocs

Fran, I was there with you in frustration and hope. As they say…if only we could be the kind of people our dogs think we are.

Kevin Hodgson

the tome of our existence
a work in progress”
yep … erase, rewrite
Kevin

Kim Johnson

Fran, from pages of pain penned in blood and all the delightful alliteration and devices you use – – to dogs who offer hope for continued humanity, this feeling of purpose in going on, in forgiving others as an act of mercy and love, of extending grace, a dove finding an olive branch and returning it to Noah – – yes, yes – – there is hope for humanity, and those animals far outnumbered the people when it all started over. We look to our pets, to our wildlife, to our birds with wings to soar and our dogs who keep us grounded, and see the future in the eyes of our babies. You make our hearts sing this morning!

Maureen Y Ingram

Fran, I love how you touch on the absolute horror of how we are living right now –

forgetting that worlds go on

without humans at all

and then offer us sublime mercy –

although my dog doesn’t think so

There is tremendous hope in this. What if we all just looked again, acted again, in the open hearted way of our beloved pets? Let’s not give up on us!

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Oh, that existence tome penned in blood is such a visual. You capture all the pain immediately in such a vivid way. You’ve made me even more grateful for our dogs in that hope-filled ending. It has to be true (doesn’t it?).

Glenda M. Funk

Fran,
Oh, my. the truth in questioning conventional wisdom about babies is spot on, yet in the midst of it all, we have our dogs. I thank God they have not given up on me yet. Lots cb of wisdom and truth in your words today. Love it all.

Christine Baldiga

Maureen, thank you for this challenge. You made me chuckle with the thought of “politicians pontificate their voices project as Minions singing”
If only… yes we need an app for this.

You

have

enough

assets

to construct

an oddly shaped

craft

and soar

above the

atmosphere

with others

who live

in your

wildly

affluent

world

Wouldn’t it

be nice

if you

could toss

a few extra

‘mil out the

window

to be caught

by those

who have

nothing?

Susie Morice

Christine – Oh boy, do I love the sass in this poem! Indeed! And three cheers to this smack-down. I love it! Musk is truly disgusting to me. I hope to heck that Twitter doesn’t let his greedy talons get hold of their platform. Susie

Fran Haley

Christine – TRUTH! Your whimsical tone (an “oddly shaped craft”) has me chuckling but oh how you drive home the point that so much more can be done for the greater good by those who have so much. Just – bam!

Kevin Hodgson

Great use of voice — I can almost see hands on the hips as it is being read aloud
Kevin

cmargocs

A resounding YES, Christine–though lately, I’ve been reminding myself that I need to hold myself accountable in this need, too.

Kim Johnson

Christine, the answer to ending poverty, promoting world peace, and waking up in a better tomorrow is giving. Giving. You show how it’s not about getting all you can, canning all you get, and sitting on your can. It’s about giving.

Heather Morris

Wow! I love the tone and truth in your poem.

Jennifer

Your poem kinda looks like a spaceship going up. Was that on purpose? Nice poem!

Maureen Y Ingram

Oh my, the pointed shape of this pointed poem is so spot on perfect…why, why, why? I love the wonder herein, and, yes, the sass, the conviction, the disgust. Thank you for this!

Christine Baldiga

Note to readers – when playing with my formatting on my blog I centered the text and the shape happen-chancedly formed a rocket shape! The shape was lost in copying here.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Christine, wouldn’t it be nice indeed. I caught an episode on a family building the largest family residence in the US (90,000 sq ft) and figured they could probably feed an entire country for the cost of the house. That image of throwing money out the window is all the more powerful in your poem.

Glenda M. Funk

Christine,
First I imagine who “you” is and love that it could be many. The single word lines trickle down on us and offer an ironic commentary on the wealth gap. Brilliant.

Linda Mitchell

Good Morning Maureen and Poets,
I’m just back from a wonderful spring break and couldn’t wait to get back to the Ethical ELA prompts. This prompt is fabulous. I love the frank and funny in ‘wishes for sons.’ I’m off to ponder and play with my notebook for a bit–maybe after listening to some minion voices. Thanks for the inspiration!

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Maureen, we definitely need that app. And I will never hear minions the same again! I’m reminded of next to of course god america (Cummings). Thank you for giving us a space to do a bit of venting. I started in one direction but landed here.

en masse

i read an article today
It was the same as yesterday’s
last week’smonth’syear’s
In fact they overlapped
one overshadowing the other
the next taking over the first
masshooting
genocidehomicide
countrycide
countrywide
i read an article today

Christine Baldiga

Jennifer, that concept of event and time overlapping is powerful, and squishing the words together really accentuated it for me. Wonderfully done

Susie Morice

Jennifer – The echó is brilliantly done here. In so few words you’ve got me riled up that even our reported news is a blather of the same godawful accounts day in and day out. The numbness comes through and we are whorling round and round on the turntable of a broken record. Even on a Monday, you’re hitting on all cylinders this morning. So well done. Susie

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Jennifer,

The book ends work so powerfully here to hold the cides, almost erasing it all in the article “an” — all in the same. And yet, you leave me to wonder if there will ever be another kind of article and what sort of world we’d live in, what sort of “today” it might have to be.

So much here to ponder, Jennifer.

Sarah

Fran Haley

Jennifer, I love how we sit down to write a thing and how writing takes over the steering wheel and goes in its own direction. I have loved e.e.cummings since I was a kid. The word “countrycide” jumps out at me here. Stark truth. Your circular form perfectly encapsulates the news repeating, repeating… keeping us enfolded in those overlappings and overshadowings, those jammed words signifying the sense of our jammed-up days. Mighty, mighty poem.

Kim Johnson

Jennifer, I love how you ran your words together in this mumblejumblesametimenextyear sort of way, to show that things have not changed. You use this technique of wordmerging so cleverly, and it works to show your message and your feeling.

brcrandall

Jennifer, You’ve written a poem that captures where we are in history an the play of words with

genocidehomicide

countrycide

countrywide

is brilliant. I love, too, how you move the rhythm of these words by pressing them together!

Emily Yamasaki

Gut-wrenching. I am so captivated by your use or lack of spacing. Your work feels like the kind of vent where you cannot even take a breath between the choked up words.

Dave Wooley

Jennifer, this is devastatingly accurate and it perfectly captures the feeling of being stuck in the “seep” of all the events that overwhelm us and mesh into the never-ending news cycle. I love you you bookend your poem with “i read an article today”.

Maureen Y Ingram

Jennifer, this is beautiful. So poignant. I like the way you took out all the spaces in

last week’smonth’syear’s

which just crushes me, to think how we keep making the same horrid mistakes, over and over. The bookended “i read an article today” sent a chill up my spine, how we are spinning in place. Very thought-provoking. Thank you for this.

Glenda M. Funk

Jennifer,
The repetition of “I read an article” is perfect. It symbolically boxes us into this mass shooting paradigm, a story we can’t escape. The headlines and stories juxtaposed and enjambed one against the other as are your words. That is gm so good, so effective. I’m sure you know this article from The Onion, but in the off chance you don’t, here it is, an homage to your perfect poem. https://www.theonion.com/no-way-to-prevent-this-says-only-nation-where-this-r-1819580358/amp

Kim Johnson

Maureen, your lie detector test for politicians is hilarious! Like the movie Liar,Liar – only real life episodes in front of mics! What imagination you brought to us today. The minions would amuse us instead of infuriating us and expose the lies. Clifton’s poem puts the spin on men, also in an amusing way – I’m chuckling at that white skirt a week early. Thanks for hosting us today and inspiring us with this compelling prompt!

The Pattern

the pattern began 
before he was born
when his left him
he watched and learned
then he left his own
they all watched, learned,
one of his left hers, too ~
it pains us all, still
but one learned 
to keep his closer
to have
to hold
to love
to cherish
to raise
to break the pattern
and show the way

Christine Baldiga

Kim, such thought provoking words of truth – and heartache. The words hit hard this morning in a personal way, making me reconsider a situation. Thank you!

Susie Morice

Kim – Tough pattern & way too real. It was a relief to find that one who could break the cycle. I worry about this among my own loved ones. This prompt along with yesterday’s “choice” prompt has some sister-boarding unfolding in our reading today I’m guessing. Hugs, Susie

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Kim,

I read and reread struck by the pronoun pattern that offered a structure for the poem and a frame to break in the final lines. There is hope here in “keep his closer” and “show us the way” in his finding his own.

Peace,
Sarah

Fran Haley

Kim – the pain and the hope in this poem – breaking patterns is hard, so hard, but POSSIBLE. The heartache and mourning here is palpable; so is the love and belief. What a gift, these words of overcoming.

Heather Morris

I have read your poem several times. Your use of pronouns and list form are powerful. I love the ending “to break the pattern and show the way.” This is an important message.

Wendy Everard

Kim, this is lovely! I had to reread it when I was confronted with the unexpected “his” — and then…
Such a poignant piece — and sad, but hopeful. Loved it!

brcrandall

Kim, the title is spot on and the wording is clever. We know this guy…might even be him…

Maureen Y Ingram

Kim, there is a beautiful, hopeful message here; we are not confined by that which came before – we can make a new way. I am captivated by the lyrical sound of your writing – I like how you wrote this poem with a percussive pattern, a drum beat of pronouns, moving one to another – and I am reminded, too, of threads in a tapestry, how one surrounds, intersects, influences another…and then, I’m back to music, thinking jazz –

to break the pattern

and show the way

here, another pattern emerges…
I’m truly smitten by the sound of this poem!

Barb Edler

Kim, breaking a vicious cycle is difficult and I appreciate how you show this in such a beautiful way. The list near the end of this poem shines “to keep his closer/to have/to hold/to love/ to cherish”. Absolutely gorgeous, positive actions! A true accomplishment to celebrate!

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Kim, I’m grateful you ended with that hope of the pattern breaking (after the string of infinitives are broken – lovely placement!). All of the pronouns make this simultaneously universal but also personal (and kept private). Here’s to the courage of the pattern breakers!

Glenda M. Funk

Kim,
Often a poem I read in this space evokes memory of another poem. In this case it’s Amy Lowell’s “Patterns.” These are so often hard to break, as your poem laments, but I am hopeful given the one who
“learned to keep his closer
to have
to hold
to love
to cherish
to raise
to break the pattern
and show the way.”
Prayers others will follow the new pattern.

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