Verselove is a community celebration of poetry in April—an invitation to write, read, and reflect together. You’re welcome to write a poem a day or to come and go as you need. Reading and leaving a brief note—a line you loved, an image that stayed, a feeling a poem stirred—is also a meaningful way to participate. This is a generous, low-pressure space. We’re glad you’re here.
Our Host
Mo lives in the Chicago suburbs, where she enjoys spending time with her enormous family. She is a retired middle school reading teacher who enjoys reading, traveling, practicing yoga, and attending Chicago theater. Mo likes to think of herself as a worldwide literacy advocate. She also spends a great deal of time trying to convince her husband that they need a couple of dogs.
Inspiration
April 15! Tax Day! ARRRGHHH! Are you proud that you’ve paid your taxes early this year? Are you ecstatic that you are getting a refund? Furious that you must send in a check? Relieved that this day is almost over? April 15th is a day that certainly evokes a great deal of emotions for us.
Process
Today I’d like to challenge you to write about those complex emotions in just 17 syllables- a haiku! Feel free to use the traditional haiku form of a three-lined poem of 5/7/5 syllables or try your hand at a modern haiku in which you focus on imagery and emotion over form. Maybe a series of haikus works for you. If a haiku doesn’t suit you today, try another short form, like hay(na)ku or sijo.
Mo’s Poem
my hair already
graying, I sign the check, hop-
ing to save the world
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers.
What an appropriate prompt, given the day I’ve had here in Jeju. I’m back here for a visit to hang out with friends and sort a few things out, including getting the money out that I left in the bank when I left.
Unexpected Korean Taxes
I’d like to withdraw
my money in my account
Yes, all of it please
Puzzled, she asks me,
Have you done illegal things,
crimes in Korea?
No way! I’d never!
My clean police check proves it
Worry lines set in
I’ll call the police
to check what is happening,
assets are frozen
What could I have done?
I’ve never committed crimes
on purpose, at least
Hanging up the phone,
she says, You owe back taxes
on your old scooter
Whew! No jail for me!
But now tomorrow is gone
while I sort this out
Oh wow, this is such a, ahem, ride. I love how the tension builds all the way to “I’ll call the police” and then turns on something so unexpectedly small. “on your old scooter” made me laugh out loud. That mix of real panic and everyday absurdity feels so true. Sending serenity your way as you work this out.
Sarah
Love the playful taxonomy. Tax day. So clever, Mo! If only our reinvestments went to making a better world (one can hope, eh?).
It’s All So Taxing
Direct deposit
landed a few weeks ago –
swallowed at the pumps.
American bandstand.
giveth and taketh away.
Federal flip-flop,
I owe the State some…
the Connecticut love song
of forty dollars.
Income is tiring.
Best not to ponder paystubs…
better to take walks.
Recreational
individuality
reactivated
Bryan,
“swallowed at the pumps” is such a sharp, familiar truth, and then “Connecticut love song of forty dollars” made me smile. Clever. I love how you move from frustration to that final turn toward walks, toward self. It is a reclaiming of something real of abundance.
Sarah
Sabbtiment Haynaku
Salary
cut to
a quarter sustains
carrying what remains
we choose
Us
Note: At my university, a sabbatical means full salary for half a year or half salary for a full year. To travel with me, Dan chose to retire early, before his pension began. It’s a risk, yes, but also a gift—one made possible by a system that, in some places, still believes in rest, study, and renewal. If you’re in education, it’s worth looking into; some schools offer versions of this, too.
Tax the rich. No. Don’t.
Instead we will tax the poor
blame them for all bad
They fight to the death
socialism, free market
in my mind and bank
Thanks for the prompt ~ be back later to read and respond….
Paying Taxes
Always did my part,
Feed the hungry, clothe the poor,
help the immigrant,
fund the libraries,
meals on wheels and medicaid.
But now, but now, but
now my hands are stained
paying taxes seems a crime
to crush the needy,
and reward the arrogant.
Ann, the repetition of “but now” speaks volumes. And the allusion to stained hands- chef’s kiss.
Wow Ann, you read my mind. I love your last 4 lines. No, I love all of it together really. So so good.
I like how you broke the form for the ending. What a punch!
Ann,
Your poem carries a heaviness, the turn at “But now, but now, but” just drops me into that shift. And “now my hands are stained”… that’s such a painful, honest way to name it. I can feel the care underneath it all, which makes the disillusionment land even harder.
Sarah
Verselove Day 14: Taxing Matters—Haiku
Army veteran.
My knees, shoulders, and back say,
We already gave enough.
April 14, 2026
Tracei Willis
Wow, Tracey. This one hits hard. I’d have to say I agree with you. Thank you!
Tracei,
That first line holds so much weight on its own, and then “We already gave enough” just lands—quiet, firm, undeniable. The body speaking its truth. It’s simple, but it carries a lifetime of service that didn’t and doesn’t end, and the body reminds you.
Sarah
[Hey, Mo, just the prompt I needed this morning! Gracias!]
TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION
Taxed in MN and MO,
double states of woe for war,
ask me what I think.
Unauthorized war,
declared as holy crusade,
ask me what I think.
Billions to pockets,
while kids skip another meal,
ask me what I think.
by Susie Morice © April 14, 2026
[Note: I moved and, of course, paid taxes in both Minnesota and Missouri. Uffdah! And even thinking about where my taxes went… well…]
I hear you, Susie. These are tough times. Side note- did you happen to notice the sweatshirt I have on in my picture? It was a gift from my niece who lives in Lee’s Summit.
Dang, Mo, I missed that sweatshirt! Look at that! Ha, a backwards MO is spot on and too true! Yeah, my niece lived in KC and I drove through Lee’s Summit all the time. I love how we all are closer together than we might have thought. Susie
Susie,
First, I so appreciate learning through poetry and the way these poems gather experiences around themes of life, of existence. Your move is just one of those life shifts from the fence/neighbor poem to the taxes (and the way your art work and music is informed by place, too).
I love how this poem builds a reflection of place(s) with each stanza widening the lens from the personal (“Taxed in MN and MO”) to the global (“Unauthorized war”) to a moral reckoning (“kids skip another meal”). And that refrain “ask me what I think” keeps sharpening, turning from invitation to indictment. It’s rhythmic, pointed, and unapologetically clear. Whew. Did I say whew!
Sarah
Mo, I have to admit that this is not my favorite topic. I’ve been struggling with my mother-in-law’s anger over her tax payment. She is ready to chew out the CPA who is just doing his job. I’m attempting to express it in a haiku.
Aging mind anger
+ an innocent CPA
= curmudgeon grandma
I know you know how difficult it can be dealing with aged loved ones. I also know you do it so gracefully. I hope it works out!
Margaret — You’re a saint! Doing one’s OWN taxes is nuts enough, but tending to your M-i-L’s taxes… uffdah! (as they say here in ‘Sota.). :-). Susie
Margaret,
This equation is perfect—so sharp and funny and self-aware and “innocent CPA” made me laugh, and then “curmudgeon grandma” just seals it. Whew. You turn frustration into something playful and totally human.
Sarah
Thank you for hosting, Mo. I appreciate the short form today.
It’s a taxing world
paying more and getting less
unless you are rich
Truth!
¡Verdad, mi amiga! Sure could use a cool million … just to buy eggs. Susie
Amen to this, Rita!
Rita,
That last line lands like a quiet mic drop—so simple, so sharp. I love how you set it up with that familiar frustration and then just say it. It’s understated and carries a punch.
Sarah
Tax Day
The fifteenth, a day like
any other. Because we have
done nothing. Again.
Extension form, I
love you. You give procras-
tinators more time
for procrastination.
GJSands
4-14-26
Mo— thanks for the reminder. Now if my husband will just gather up his receipts…🤦🏻♀️
So we aren’t the last ones! Your poem makes me feel better about procrastinating. Today’s the day! I love your opening stanza, Gayle.
Gayle, We do the same thing! I love the way you added “procrastinators more time for procrastination.”
Gayle,
This made me laugh—“Extension form, I love you” is too real. That playful honesty about procrastination hits. feels like a whole day captured in a wink. I’ve been there, completely.
Sarah
Mo, thank you for hosting today and inviting us to focus on this yearly chore in short form.
tax vile, baseless words
of a wannabe royal
narcissist t.a.c.o.
Seems like everyone is feeling a certain way these days. I’m so glad we have this platform to express ourselves. Wannabe royal is a great description.
Stefani — Bingo! My sentiments precisely. Thank you. Susie
Oh my gosh, Stefani. There’s such bite in the way you compress anger into something sharp and controlled: “baseless words” and that last line stings with intention. It feels like calling something out without overexplaining it as only a poet can do!
Sarah
LOL….love your last line!
Thanks, Mo! This was fun. We switched tax prep services last year, deciding to use a local CPA who has his own small office. We were so pleased with his work and advice that we had cookies delivered to the office.
Making Tax Prep Sweeter
The best tax guy, Frank.
Retiree taxes. tricky.
Cookies for Frank. Thanks!
I need a Frank in my life! We still do our own, which I’m sure we shouldn’t. I’m sure he lived the cookies!
We have Sam. I should send him cookies!
Lori,
This is so charming: “Cookies for Frank” just makes the whole thing glow. I love how you turn something stressful into gratitude and care. A small, sweet ritual that makes the whole process better. I so appreciate experts and people who can do the work with numbers that I can’t.
Peace,
Sarah
Story Problems
If citizens pay
into a government now
filled with corruption
at what time will we
meet at the Boston Harbor
to dump tea?
Mo, haiku always seems like a simple process (so small!) until you start wresting with it (much like taxes!). Such a clever prompt today. We were old-schooling paper forms for tuition paid until we reached line 19 of form 8863 which took us to another form on adopted children (what?). It reminded me of when my dad would try to help me with math in 5th grade, and I’d always end up crying.
I love where you have taken this poem, Jennifer. You raise just the right question.
Fantastic poem, Jennifer! I’m heading to the harbor…I’ll see ya there in a few! Love, Susie
Jennifer,
Oh, that memory you shared in the note about “always ended up crying.” I know this feeling too well. And your poem: This really leans into that historical echo—the pull of protest, of drawing a line. I feel the urgency in your question, how it reaches back to imagine what resistance looks like now. It’s thoughtful, charged, and invites us into the tension. I feel like I am gradually opting out of systems while also depending on them paradoxically of late.
Sarah
Thank you for hosting us today, Mo! I love this topic for poetry – it helps ease the pain.
The Tax Man Cometh
Caesar’s rendering
my travel fund cindering
all fun hindering
Ha! Clever and fun, especially those verbals.
Okay, a rhyming haiku so early in the morning? Virtual snaps, especially for including Caesar.
I love how you used a clever rhyme scheme. I hope we don’t have to sacrifice our travel fund that my mother left us. We’ve already had to pay my parents’ back taxes and penalties out of it because they did not pay them. Definitely “fun hindering.”
Kim — Yes…Caesar has screwed the plan, dashed the “fun” all to smithereens. I love the title… and sure do feel that “hindering.” Hugs, Susie
Kim,
“my travel fund cindering”—ouch, that line hits. I love how you carry that playful rhyme all the way through while still capturing the real sting. It’s clever and a little painful in the best way that a poem carries such commentary and that only a poet, my friend Kim, can capture.
Sarah
Love the rhyme in this haiku!
We owed this year so we did not do the electronic payment but waited until the last moment to mail in a check.
Kevin
The envelope, sealed,
sits waiting on the counter,
until the last day
Kevin, the perfect passive resistance!
I hate to be a one-upper Kevin, but we haven’t even done ours yet for the exact same reason. Love it!
Stick it to the man!
will it be enough
to end the war? bring some peace?
counting beans again
Linda, I’ve asked the same! Makes me wonder why we are counting beans at all.
Counting beans, indeed. I just love how much can be said in such a short poem.
I know in my mind that taxes are for the good of our country, but in my heart it’s another feeling altogether. Peace is my prayer.
Linda — Perfect questions. It burns my shorts to think this war mongering is going unchecked. I feel your sentiments. Susie
Linda,
I was also pondering the word “enough” today: “will it be enough” carries so much doubt and hope at once. And then “counting beans again”… that quiet return to reality, it really lingers.
I am loving how the haiku offers such commentary without overexplaining.
Sarah
We need peace! No more war!!