All are welcome to participate in the 5-day Open Write — from one day to all days, depending on your schedule. There are no set rules for the length of a poem, and you are free to modify or reject the prompts as you wish, allowing you to write whatever is on your mind or in your heart. We firmly believe that the best writing instructors are actual writers, and this platform offers a supportive environment for you to nurture your writing journey. Just scroll down to share your poem in the comment section. For more information about the Open Writes click here.
The Luc Bat
Wendy Everard is a high school English teacher and writer living in central New York. Her role as mother and teacher has given her plenty to write about since she started writing personal narrative and poetry, lifelong hobbies kicked into overdrive when she joined a summer institute with the Seven Valleys branch of the National Writing Project a few years ago and began mentoring student teachers. She teaches in Cazenovia, New York.
The Inspiration
In our English 12 class, we study graphic novels by writers of Asian descent: Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis, Thi Bui’s The Best We Could Do, Gene Luen Yang’s American Born Chinese, Robin Ha’s Almost American Girl, and George Takei’s They Called Us Enemy. We also study poetic forms that found their roots in these cultures – among them, the luc bat.
The luc bat is a poem with Vietnamese origins. It means “six-eight” and consists of alternating lines of six and eight syllables with an unusual rhyme scheme:
xxxxxA
xxxxxAxB
xxxxxB
xxxxxBxC
xxxxxC
xxxxxCxD
xxxxxD
xxxxxDxE
There is no set length to a luc bat: you can make it as long as you wish. And there’s no set meter.
The Process
Your poetic mission today: Try writing a luc bat! Your topic: Any!
Wendy’s Poem
My model today is dedicated to one of my best friends, musician and artist Charlie Reed, whom I don’t see often enough, but whose beautiful artistic renderings populate my classroom, my home, and my heart – such as the beautiful rendering he did of my daughter, Allie:
The Artist
Up the frame, his name it crawls
As ‘cross the canvas sprawls his art.
And twined, our lives take part, but far –
Though busy as we are, our hearts
In sympathy, on par, retain
The pleasure and the pain
Of trying to maintain the thread
That keeps us bound, instead
Of leaving words unsaid, unframed.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
This was a challenge, but I needed to try it.
Blessings
Blessings all around me
But I don’t always see or act
Don’t walk like it’s a fact
Worrying about lack, no need
I’m so cared for, indeed
If only I would read The Book
and take a deeper look
Oh the time it has took to doubt
Now I have figured out
If only I would shout a Praise
God’s blessings are always
Wendy,
This one was a challenge! The form is really intriguing and I love the poem you created!
The world’s on a pitch clock
Now we’re on the pitch clock
news cycles on tic toc and X
AI tells me what’s next—
Are you sure it’s correct? It’s fast…
The data sets are vast,
and good stories outlast the truth.
Fact checking render’d moot.
A world of likes and fame; shoot then aim.
Dave,
This is a powerful poem. I have not posted on Xwitter since July 26 and have only snooped a couple times. That site is a dystopian, fascist hellscape these days. Like many, I’m saddened by the bird app’s demise. Your poem captures the current zeitgeist. I worry about AI, especially the way many teachers have embraced it, constantly. It’s a slippery slope w/ many potential abuses. It makes T.S. Elliot’s words in The Hollow Men real.
Wow. You really captured so much here! I like how the harsh ending sounds of the rhymes you choose – pitch, next, moot – feel harsh and fast like the sentiment of your poem. “Shoot then aim” indeed!
Wendy, thank you for the prompt, and especially for a challenge with the form. I knew about it, but never wrote a luc bat myself. Your poems flows so natural, and I wanted “to maintain the thread / That keeps us bound.” Charlie Reeds drawing of your daughter is beautiful!
I tried to think about different topics for this challenge and decided to write about bullying often present in YA novels we read this semester. It is still too rough of a draft, but I wanted to post before midnight ))
Burning Question in This Situation
Latest situation.
Full of acute tension. Is there
A major scare?
Surely, but compare results:
Will you take the insults,
(Being quiet sucks), or will
You refuse being still,
Standing tall to bullies, saving
Your own world from crashing, dang it?!
Leilya,
I had several conversations w/ students today about bullying. They learn from what we do more than from what we say. I wonder if there’s too much about bullying in YA books. I do wish kids felt more comfortable speaking up. So much to think about in this provocative poem.
I was that quiet child growing up and often suffered terribly alone. Didn’t want to bother my parents who worked so much and had tons of other problems. Now, if I see a child bullied, I intervene right away, but I am still hesitant to openly confront my bullies.
Leilya,
This is a such a problem, and no matter what we do to combat it, bullying just won’t die. I loved your poem, so sensitive to the situation of our kids — and I love the fact that you read novels dealing with such an intense issue. Loved the parenthetical phrase in the midst of your poem. <3
What a great topic for your poem, Leilya. I like the title too. It shows the severity of the problem, doesn’t it?
Leilya, I keep going back to the being quiet sucks – and I think of the times
i have been quiet when I should have spoken up – as an onlooker and as one being teased. This is quite the powerful poem for emotion!
I thought the luc bot was suspiciously simple looking – I was right to be suspicious! I ended up working with mostly single syllable words, lol.
Hiking with family this past weekend, I watched my young granddaughter try to climb rocks like her dad, my son…with that picture in mind, here’s where my attempt at a luc bot landed:
the rocks
she climbs because dad does
what he loves, then she loves, I know
he leads and she follows
every step with such glow and pride
showing courage each stride
her trust a constant guide to heights
no space for any fright.
those two. a special sight for me.
Thank you, Maureen!I can feel love and pride in your poem and can totally relate to them being “a special sight for you.” I, too, struggled with a form a bit. Your poem flows smoothly with strong rhyming.
Maureen,
This is such a special poem. You must frame it w/ a picture of Frog and dad climbing. It is everything a father should be to a child. I ❤️ it.
Oh! Framing it with their picture is a lovely idea!
Maureen, this is wonderful! I loved the poem and the “backstory” intro: such a cool, tender moment to capture!
Maureen, your love and pride shine through beautifully in this — love the idea of her “trust a constant guide to heights.” What a great moment to witness. Loved this!
Oh, Maureen, what a precious poem about your granddaughter and your son. “showing courage each stride” I love that parents can do that for their kids.
Such truth, such imagery, such trust, such love! Precious moments captured in words, Maureen!
Wendy, I don’t why I am continually surprised how often the poems we share here prompt reflections on similar experiences. You primed the pump with these words for me:
The pleasure and the pain
Of trying to maintain the thread
That keeps us bound, instead
Of leaving words unsaid, unframed.
While many wrote about personal situations where we need to speak up, today, my poem sprang from the need to remind ourselves we need to speak up with we, as classroom teachers, also need help.
Thanks for the poem and the prompt and the challenge of, like teaching so often is, working within strict boundaries.
Wendy, your poem inspired me this morning and I hoped to write on my lunch break. I drafted something and it was a far cry from poetry LOL. I spoke some ideas on my notes while driving, that was a bit better. Now, I’ve sat with this on the couch and decided it was a good start. This was a challenge but I didn’t let it stop me.
Thank you for pushing my brains today!
I know in time we’ll see
How life gives us a tree to share
Someday we will meet there
Shade or sun, feel the air bathe you
Rest! There’s nothing to do
Free to imagine, true and kind
©Stacey L. Joy, 10/23/23
You pushed your brains successfully again today, Stacey! I dream of that rest when we will have “nothing to do / Free to imagine, true and kind.” My favorite are the first two lines:
”I know in time we’ll see
How life gives us a tree to share.”
Thank you for this gift!
Stacey,
I wrote a lot of not poetry today, too, and now I feel inspired to write a full-blown not poem. I’m gonna envision a lovely fall tree, a gift from you, as I write. You are my muse today, and your poetry comforts my soul.
Stacey, you’ve captured the form perfectly in this poem! This poem was like a breath of sun and fresh air, especially in the cold, rain-soaked northeast right now. Thanks for this reminder of good times — made me anticipate summer, though the snow hasn’t even flown yet.
Stacey, now that is one lovely,
peaceful idea – a tree to share! Oh, how I love the feelings here in your poem today!
Wendy,
Ive been having a brain fart off and in all day. I struggled. And struggled some more. And had lots of false starts. Gurl, this was hard. Even with that gorgeous art and your phenomenal poem, I just could not get my feeble mind functioning. I tried. I promise.
My Sh*tty Luc Bat Poem
Call these syllabled lines
cringe-worthy worded signs to warn
onlookers who have sworn
kind gestures they’ll adorn each verse
and tender feelings nurse.
While eschewing terse verse critique
they’ll put their tongue in cheek
and say however meek “good job.”
—Glenda Funk
October 23, 2023
Oh, Glenda, your wit and humor have me laughing out loud. I definitely do not think this luc bac is “sh*tty!”. Love your clever use of words throughout this from “kind gestures they’ll adorn each verse” to “eschewing terse verse critique”. Writing is struggle, but you make it sound so fun! By the way, “good job.” You’re always brilliant!
This is so awesome, Glenda! I am sitting here chuckling. Just so funny! I struggled with the luc boc and took a toddler’s path with single syllables – here you are, amazing me with ‘cringe-worthy’ and ‘eschewing’ – truly, this is delightful!
I am with Barb and Maureen about your poem, Glenda! You luc bat is a class act with word choices and rhyme that many would envy. I enjoyed reading and smiled ))
This might be the greatest poem title of all time! And the poem is very cleverly tongue in cheek, good job!
This poem was a lot of fun.
Glenda! This made me laugh out loud. Far from a “sh*tty luc bat,” you’ve captured the form — and I love the internal rhyme in Line 6 (“terse verse critique” was gold!). Great poem, thanks for it!
Good job, Glenda! Haha, I said it, but I mean it. I adore the word choice of “eschewing.” Every time I read a luc bat, I try to make sense of the rhyming scheme again. It’s so challenging and they are fun to read. Your “sh*tty” poem made me laugh!
Glenda, applause! How did you ever weave such a lovely line here in
While eschewing terse verse critique
wow! I want my brain to work like that.
Wendy — Your poem and the portrait of your daughter are beautiful.
Those last three lines: “Of trying to maintain the thread/That keeps us bound, instead/
Of leaving words unsaid, unframed” were so poignant. I connected with those words as a mother who has two daughters. Sometimes words aren’t enough to capture the love the way we wish it.
Thank you for introducing me to a new form. I was incredibly challenged today.
Brain Fog
My brain is clearly strained
Today leaves me drained; it’s okay
Monday’s are usually that way
Bangel’s song all day in my head
My sanity has fled
Manic Monday dread, but Tuesday
Tuesday is a breath away
“Groovy,” they say, “but nothing lasts”
Tammi,
Gurl, you are not alone. Yet here you are w/ a fab poem. Love the Bangles allusion.
Tammi, I love the title of your poem, the way brain fog can make you feel a bit like you’ve gone crazy. Loved your line “Manic Monday dread, but Tuesday/Tuesday is a breath away”…Lovely!
Tammi,
Loved, loved this — your Bangles allusion was everything! 🙂
My smile widened as I read each line — agree that Mondays are, indeed, that way — loved your last two lines, especially! <3
“Bangel’s song all day in my head” – love love love this! And you wove in luc bat rhymes with that line – amazing! Love this.
You’ve written a perfect poem for trying to write a challenging form on Monday! “clearly strained” “leaves me drained” “my sanity has fled” So many great (stress-filled) thoughts!
Wendy, thanks for sharing this challenging prompt. I’ve never written this type of poem before. I love the beautiful portrait of your daughter and was deeply moved by your poem, especially the final two lines.
Afternoon on River Road
autumn leaves brilliant reds
salute above our heads, goodbye,
to golden leaves sweet sigh
past the river gull’s cry of fright
snowy wings taking flight
we fear the chilly night, flee too
racing to the edgy blue
savoring its sweet brew’s freedom
Barb Edler
23 October 2023
Barb,
What a beautiful autumn picture you have painted! I see and feel this chilly day and can hear the gull’s cry.
Barb,
This is gorgeous. It must be what the creator of this form had in mind. Your poem has a calming effect. I love the river image, the leaves waving goodbye. It’s simply gorgeous and mesmerizing. Perfect poem.
Barb, this bubbled with imagery that hinted at autumn, Halloween, and lovely, cool weather. So imagistic, and you nailed the form; bravo!
This is beautifully lyrical, Barb – wow! I’m awed. Love ‘past the river gull’s cry of fright ‘ and
‘we fear the chilly night, flee too’ – an enchanting luc bat, I think.
Oh, Barb, I love the image of autumn you created in this poem. It is beautiful and so lively! It reminded me our rides along the River Road in Baton Rouge. Thank you for such a treat!
The imagery in this is really striking. You really capture the season. It’s so impressive that you fit all of this into the form!
Ah, a lovely fall day for you too. This time of year is such a delight. I love how the “brilliant reds salute above”. Lovely thoughts.
Oh, that feeling of getting home before dark! Your bird flight and your imagery here are brilliant. I love the feeling of chills and the autumn colors in your poem!
And That’s Okay
It’s the end of the day.
All things they have to say distracts focus.
Will they be a success
if they take a recess too long?
Their way might not be wrong.
This time I can’t be strong with direction —
the other hours took my attention.
I’m not inspiration this Monday.
Your title is golden!! I have been in this poem!
Thank you. And yes, I’m not there often, but I was that day for sure. And I have to decide that it’s just fine that there are days like that.
Amber, I can completely relate to your poem. Love your poem’s question. Sometimes it’s all about letting things flow, which makes your title so delightful and perfectly stated.
Finding a flow. Letting them play. That is sometimes okay.
Amber,
I totally feel this! I felt the same way today. Monday’s are the worst!
I typically really love Mondays…and the day went really well all the way until the last hour of the day. I think some of the students were having Mondays and my tone for not being bothered by Mondays was not strong enough for them to change their flow.
Amber, you nailed the form! Loved this rumination on your day, and I so loved the title!
Awe! Thank you. I never knew this form and really really had fun with it.
Wow – marvelous rhymes throughout. Yes, yes!! They will be a success with long recess!! All the more so, in my humble opinion, lol.
Oh man! I love play as a learning tool.
Oh yes you are inspiration! Sometimes the direction takes a mind of its own – and your title says it all. It’s ok!
Awe! Thank you for that. Yes. I have to remind myself it is okay.
Mine- Drunk Squirrel
Squirrel scampering a vine,
Around and down, I sip wine, unwind.
Dizziness, doubling blind, unconfined.
Scratching notes of a singing Pine, I chime.
Empty bottle, flinging—- time.
Barking Squirrel, ringing rhymes,
Echoing cheers, tingling, mind,
Drunken, giggling, Squirrel and I’m!
Boxer, loved this! What a rhythmic, rhyming romp, befitting of it subject!
*its
I need to be this happily drunk! Your language play is rhythmic and playful. I can hear that squirrel giggling!
Boxer,
I absolutely love everything about this poem: the rhythm, the rhyme. I have one of those drunken squirrels in my yard always antagonizing our outdoor cat.
Clayton,
One of my favorite things is watching dogs chase squirrels, and your poem is a perfect toast to the chase. Love it.
I love this! That empty bottle flinging time is just real.
Celestial
Marshmallows burnt just right
Settled round the fire light—cold backs
Warm fronts, time to relax.
Then looked up, viewed star tracks—chatter
turned to higher matters
Universal star spatter, bright moon
Soul space, Divine commune
——————————————
Wendy, what a fun challenge–the Luc Bat is new for me. I too did a lot of rhyming and counting, and I’m not at all sure I got it, but it was rewarding to try. Today’s Inktober/Poemtober word is “Celestial” so I played with that today. I’m sure I’ll want to come back to this form again. Thank you.
What a lovely drawing and your poem tells a beautiful story that I would love to hear more of. So touching.
Oh, love the progression of this Luc Bat, Denise. From the marshmallow to the moon, from physical to divine. Look what you did with this one…ending with “soul space” as both are that; the chatter of the souls toward divine commune is a powerful moment of noticing.
Sarah
Denise,
Oh, this was just lovely! I think that this form can just produce magical results, and your imagistic poem was a perfect example of that!
This is wonderful! It sums up my camping experience of the weekend. Looking up at that celestial sky and seeing “Universal star spatter” if relaxing and divine. Thanks.
All of this! I can practically fell the warmth of the fire, see those stars. Soul space, indeed…
Denise, your poem is a celebration of a beautiful autumn night and I adore the title of your poem. “Divine commune” is such a lovely image and I appreciate all of your wonderful word choices throughout your poem especially “Universal star spatter”. Gorgeous poem!
Denise,
I am totally feeling those cold backs and warm fronts this time of the year. Love your last lines “Universal star spatter, bright moon/Soul space, Divine commune.” They really capture the feeling of awe under the stars.
Denise,
Im coming over to your desert hideaway so I can enjoy the starry sky and marshmallow roast on a cool, crisp evening that’s as sublime as your lovely poem.
Oh, do come, Glenda! You are so welcome.
Denise, I’m right there with you! This is lovely – the stars, the fire, the marshmallows. I’m sure that your place in the world brings amazing skies with full view constellations! I smell those marshmallows just reading this.
Wendy–whew! This was a challenge and a pleasure! Your poem encapsulates true friendship–
“The pleasure and the pain
Of trying to maintain the thread
That keeps us bound, instead
Of leaving words unsaid, unframed.”
We need to remember to say the words, and frame them, too.
I supervise education practicum students at a local college, shepherding them through their first experience in schools. These days, I worry about what I am sending them into. So many things are harder than when I entered the teaching field. I question whether I am doing right by them. Then, yesterday, a former student contacted me out of the blue, thanking me for having faith in her when no one else saw her value. She reminded me of my credo–“Be honest. Give your best.” She shared an exchange between herself and another special-to-me student, now a mother of three. They agreed that I changed their lives. And I realized that I would do it all over again, even now. Where else can you make this kind of difference? We are so very lucky…
Touchstone
She asked me, “Should I teach?”
I stop. No need to preach to this
one, a young apprentice–
teaching is her essence. These days,
the world can drive away
hope for those who, someday, must fill
the shoes of those who still
scale the steep slope of teaching.
I stop. Should I endorse
the dream? Can I enforce the myth
that teaching is a gift,
or admit it’s gone adrift? I pause,
look through the gauze of time,
think of the hills I’ve climbed,
and I am reminded of those
I helped to rise, and choose to say
“Yes, you should.”
GJSands
10/23/23
Gayle, this is assuring to those that still aspire to be teachers. It is so different now I am told from when I was teaching 20 years ago. My daughter teaches at a high school and is frazzled. When a past student reaches out it makes it all worth while.
Yes, you should.
I think the myth is that being a teacher is something born or something achieved. That binary is tough to navigate, and you show this here as a process and a becoming that takes intention in the “hills I’ve climbed” in the decision to help others “to rise” and “choose.”
Peace,
Sarah
Gail. Bravo!!
Loved your story, and loved this poem, a beautiful ode to the profession. The “gauze of time,” “the steep slope of teaching” — your words are so apt! Beautiful.
Gayle, your poem touches such a deep chord within me. I love so many of your lines such as “scale the steep slope of teaching” and “gauze of time”. How do you encourage our youth to embrace teaching when there are so many pitfalls? Yet, I’d never trade my career, the special relationships with students, the glorious moments, or even the heartbreaks we endured together. Love the triumph in your last line.
Gayle,
Teaching is not easy, especially today, but your last stanza is inspiring! I agree and would say the same to a young teacher.
Gayle, I am so pleased with those last three words. I do know it is harder to “endorse the dream” these days. This poem is beautiful, and I love the first stanza which shows her strength–as I think she would have decided with or without your endorsement. “teaching is her essence”
What a gem of a poem, Glenda! I think of the brave students I once taught, now teachers themselves, and how much sacrifice it takes. You are right – so many hills….and oh, so many summits!
I meant to say Gayle. I said Glenda. I’m sorry – I’m confusing my friends who begin with G.
Ouch!
With pain I grab my pen
know I must begin and yet
a story to tell, set
about a backyard threat, hand numb
ache starting with my thumb
rock hits a finger plumb. What gall!
dropped straight down from a wall
where Sally sat tall and smiled with glee.
Hello all! I missed the first two days because I was out camping and away from most tech. Glad to be here today and accept (with thanks) this challenge from Wendy. Don’t know what got into me to write this poem. Strange imagination, I guess.
Wait, are you saying you made this up, Susan? I was sitting here feeling so bad for you! If you made this up, you did great. I love the details!
Yes, it is all made up, Mo. I don’t know where inside my head it came from.
Susan, I loved the way you rose to the challenge! I’m dying to know what the context was in your mind for this — its nursery rhyme rhythm underscores the nursery rhyme imagery it’s giving. Loved it!
Oooo! What a lovely rhyme with “pen” and begin”. I like how you share these thoughts.
Susan, Glad you made it for the Open Write, even a bit late. Yes, like Mo, I thought it was real at first. So funny! I’m glad it is made up. Love the storytelling.
Susan, your rhyme scheme and action can be felt like a beat – no pun intended, and I hope your finger is ok. Glad you had a good weekend for camping. I love the peace it brings!
This was a fun challenge this morning. I will defintely try this form again!
Fall Harvest
By Mo Daley 10/23/23
Autumn, glowing season
holy time, my reason- leaves fall
no summer withdrawal
crimson, persimmon sprawl, Midwest
natural treasure chest
when outside we are blessed with leaves
we laugh, roll up shirtsleeves
rake them up like quick thieves, reaping
Aw, I would love to be in the autumn leaves. I can feel the change of season and the fun in your poem.
Mo, this was fantastic! Love the internal rhyme of “crimson” and “persimmon” plus the vivid imagery! This was just autumn gold; thank you.
So much imagery! I can see, smell, hear all of it.
Also…I agree, it was such a fun challenge today.
Mo, ooohhh, I love the word choice throughout your poem. “natural treasure chest” …wow, what a perfect descriptor. The color words are delightful and the idea that “we are blessed with leaves” has some truth to it! Love the action throughout this and how you ended your poem! Fantastic luc bat!
Mo, I can feel the crisp, cool air and hear the crunching. I see flannel shirtsleeves and the fun of leaves fluttering.
Wendy, I couldn’t help by smile when I saw your title because I read it phonetically. “Good luck at bat!” Well, here’s an attempt at 6/8/6 and a rhyme scheme of sorts.
NEVER ALONE
“Never alone,” so they tell me.
We, teachers, should have friends
Colleagues to help amend
Problems come up teaching
Students that we should be reaching
So do not hesitate.
Ask for what you need. Don’t wait.
No need to cry or whelp!
We are your friends. We‘re eager to help.
Call on us and you’ll see.
Teachers need to hear this every day, Anna!
Anna, I love this call to action and this helpful advice — I’d never heard of Teachers Help Teachers, and this spurred me to investigate. Loved your rhyme scheme and your message — thank you!
Oh! I love this message you share through poetry. I do need to ask for help when I need it. Every time.
Amen!! Excellent – and perfect for us (teachers) to hear!! Nice work 😊
Anna, your poem is such a celebration of what great teachers do. You are always so encouraging, and I hear your voice throughout this poem so clearly. Bravo!
“FACTS,” as the kids these days say. There is so much truth in your verse here, Anna! Teachers need help, too. And they should seek it out when needed. Thank you for reminding us!
Anna, this is what I wish the newbies would realize sooner rather than later. I don’t know if anyone else is noticing this but in L.A., our newbies are know-it-alls and have a hard time with being guided and don’t think they need it. It’s bizarre and I hope they figure it out soon. I don’t force horses to drink the water, I just show them the water!
Stacey, Keep up your good work. Leading from the classroom. As newbies see your success, they’ll start asking questions. At one school I taught, newbies were “required” to sit in on classes of veterans. Consider inviting a pairing up of newbies and veterans who “sit in” on each other’s classes. Don’t have to teach the same content areas! Observing ways others “manage” is the biggest help to new classroom teachers.
Dream-drag
I succumb to Monday Sunday
Prime sofa naps stirring next days’ tasks
this liminal place well-snatched
as whispers of doubt perhaps scream
waiting for ideas to stream
as faces and to-dos dream-incite
when work masks rest in spite
body dream-dragged through night to now.
Oh, the Sunday blues. Such a great topic for this form. Love “dream-dragged”. I almost overslept today and that can ruin a day from the start.
“Monday Sunday” is such an apt phrase. As a teacher, I totally get that! I love the whispers perhaps screaming, too! You’ve played with paradox here, and I enjoy the familiarity of what you express.
Sarah, this was terrific! I loved these lines, especially:
“Prime sofa naps stirring next days’ tasks”
and
“when work masks rest in spite”
as well as
“body dream-dragged through night to now”
I could so relate to these sentiments! Well-phrased.
Sarah, you had me at “I succumb to Monday Sunday/Prime sofa naps..” Brilliant poem! I can totally relate. I am always trying to figure out what will serve me better, the rest or the completion of a task. Loved “body dream-dragged through night to now”.
Sarah,
You’ve captured the sublime Sunday nap time, that space between thinking about doing and doing all we planned for the weekend. What is it about Sundays that invite rest on a comfy couch. I’m feeling all the moves in your poem today.
Sarah,
Welllllll you’ve cleverly named Monday Sunday what I would always call “Sundat at Seven” and I love it! Dream-drag hits the nail on the head.
We all know this feeling all too well. Thank you, Sarah!
Sarah,
I love the “Monday Sunday” phrase and framework. And the “liminal space snatched” and then “dream-dragged” active verb in the last line. So many goodies in this poem!
Sarah, love all the playful wording (Monday Sunday and dream-drag). I feel every bit of this. Your rhyme pattern is so well-done; I’m really appreciating the scream to dream lines.
Oh wow, you have captured those Monday Sunday blues. “when work masks rest in spite” Someday, retirement will help make those days go away.) I hope you had a good day today.
Oh, Sarah, the succumbing to Monday Sunday is my world right now, full weekends really of more demands that make it hard to do much else than feeling this way. I feel your last line in a real way, just going through the motions of dream-drag. What a great way to put that feeling in words!
This Morning: A Thought
Had to scrape icy -ish
(Michigan gonna Michigan)
from the windshield again:
this blows.
________________________________________
Wendy, thank you for introducing me to the luc bat! It deserves much more time than I afforded it today. But, hey, it seems that my final line is serving the dual purpose of not only commenting on the weather, but also my attempt at this form. Lol.
Love (Michigan gonna Michigan). Clever quick draft!
LOL!! I love it and it most definitely did not “blow” — wish I could say the same, Scott, for your icy, undoubtedly breezy, Michigan weather. 😉
Made me smile here, Scott. “Michigan gonna Michigan” and then I hear the “again” in the repetition — ah, so familiar.
Stay warm.
I hail from south of Buffalo. The icy-ish is an unpleasant memory for me! It did blow. Which is why I live in Maryland now.
Scott, I was right there with you scraping. Love that second line! And while our weather might blow, your luc bat most definitely did not.
Thank you to Wendy for this inspiration that got me out of bed to wrestle with my empty nester feelings. And thank you to Jennifer and Kevin whose posts clarified to me that it was supposed to be lines of six and eight syllables! I had written much longer form, but the syllable counts forced me to be concise.
This night, awake, I find
writing to tease my mind. It’s late,
or early now? A spate
of thoughts circumambulate, unwatched.
Familiar paths, worries notched:
My children’s fate botched? Kismet played
by wistful wager weighed,
as if I only made them men.
Venture accepted when
I didn’t know their yens weren’t mine.
They leave me now to refine
Who’ll amble here, untwine this skin,
Who’ll awaken this choice
Open up, let this in, fresh breeze.
Nora,
The rhyme of this form adds a whimsical tone to even serious subjects perhaps assuaging discomfort in the finding of rhymes for the writer and softening the pang in the reader. Still, I feel the “untwine this skin” in a visceral way.
Peace,
Sarah
Sarah, it’s interesting to note the playfulness of the form accommodating a serious topic, and thank you for your response. I felt the form was like two steps forward and one step back, sort off the same feeling I am having now with one child away and the other still here.
Nora, I just loved this. And, boy, can I relate to those nights awake with two teens, myself. Loved, especially, the beautiful rhythms of:
“My children’s fate botched? Kismet played
by wistful wager weighed,”
And those last three lines!
Woah, this form is an art and a challenge. I borrowed your last line to get started.
When leaving words unsaid
Our shared trauma wed and silent,
fears become resilient.
Day-to-day environment stress,
silence under duress.
Feelings that repress true love
come crashing down above.
We speak the words to heal.
Finally become the real us.
Hi, Margaret.
I also found this to be challenging this Monday morning, but once I got going, the rhyme made me take it less seriously and let it go to become what it needed.
I love how you borrowed a line to get started and then connected “unsaid” to “wed” and then “silent” to “resilient.” These connections built to a powerful closing “finally become the real us.” And that pronoun has me thinking about becoming “us” vs “self” or “me’ and what that might mean for me today.
Thank you,
Sarah
Margaret,
This was just beautiful. And it just resonated with me so, especially, those last two lines. Lately, I’ve been handling some stressful times with my extended family, and this whole poem seemed to speak to it — really amazing how poetry can speak to and for us. Thank you for this. <3
Margaret, these lines strike me, not just because they reflect poetic rhythm and rhyme, but because of their truth.
silence under duress.
Feelings that repress true love
come crashing down above.
And then … until
We speak the words to heal!
Yes, we must tell the truth … with love!
Margaret, something about the wed trauma speaks to me, and the finally that begins the last line is the reality of the time it takes to get back to who we are. I feel this!
Wendy, thank you so much for hosting us today and bringing us a fun form. I love the short forms with syllables and rhymes! The artwork and poem are beautiful renderings of your daughter. That last line is powerful. My husband and I attended the Southern States Little Guy Meet-Up over the weekend (Little Guys are a brand of teardrop campers). There were 21 actual campers occupying campsites and probably 35 or 40 people gathered for the campfires each night, so I wrote my Luc Bat today on my weekend. Thanks again for the new form!
Little Guy Southern States Meet Up
Southern States Campground Meet:
from all around, to greet the day
there’s just no better way
for LG folks to play and chat
we roll out welcome mats
put on jeans, don camp hats, build fires,
give camper tours, check wires
make our beds, shine our tires…….relax!
Kim,
I was just reading your intro paragraph here: teardrop campers — now that is a title for a poem.
I love the whimsy of this poem as a narrative, telling the story of the event. How wonderful to connect day to way and chat to mats and fires to wires and tires — all leading to …relax.
This is a joy.
Sarah
I’m amazed you were able to fit in the tone of your weekend into this strict form. The word play that leads to relax has me wishing for a camper weekend.
Camping must be in the air now! I was camping all weekend as well in my car. I really like your words about no better way to get out and play and relax! Kim, you wrote a terrific Luc Bat.
Kim,
This poem is so fun. You’ve almost sold me on buying a LG trailer and camping. Almost! You should share this in one of your LG groups.
Kim, I love this and want to be there! Your descriptive language and imagery drew me right in and made me feel cozy — I wanted to pull up a folding chair and sit by the fire, marshmallow stick in hand. Thanks for this!
Doggone it, you can’t make me believe this is a new form for you! This is so good, Kim. I love the playful and welcoming feelings you’ve evoked. You never cease to amaze me!
Wendy, thank you for introducing a new form today! Your words, and Reeds’ rendering, are beautiful.
We count before we rhyme
marching along in time – luc bat
rhythm is where it’s at
the pattern is all that matters
this form, my brain it stirs
the morning puzzle lures me in
a challenge one must win
not sure it will happen today
“morning puzzle” indeed but a lovely challenge
Jennifer,
What a lovely ode to this new-to-me form. The meter, lines, and rhyme sure do create a rhythm that feels really unfamiliar to me as I am writing. It is almost as if ChatGPT stepped into my fingers for a bit to write today.
You managed to make this form entirely you in the reflective quality of “morning puzzle lures me” and the making of something new. Love it.
Sarah
Jennifer–I felt your beat. I didn’t consider the rhythm in the poem–I was too busy counting syllables! Thank you for reminding me of one of the joys of poetry…
Jennifer, love how you capture the art of rhythm and rhyme that the luc bat invites. I enjoyed how you connected this writing with the challenge of the morning puzzles…yes, a must for me on most days! Loved “my brain it stirs”. Very fun poem! And look, you did make it happen!
Jennifer,
The Luc Bat beat my brain, too, yet you’ve penned a fun homage to this challenging form. We’ll done!
Jennifer,
Loved the meta-ness of this poem as you wrote about the challenge of writing this poem! XD
Thanks for rising to the challenge — and I hope you enjoyed it!
Jennifer, I’m with the others: this is definitely a “win” today! And I also agree with you that the luc bat is certainly a “puzzle.” Thank you for showing what is possible with this form!
YOU WIN! Wow, Jennifer, I would’ve never guessed this was a new form for you.
Masterpiece!
Lots o’ counting and rhyming this morning!
Kevin
A path winds its way through
places forests grew before Fall
– a long coyote call –
the beauty of it all is change –
the world rearranged;
We’re nearly strangers to this place
but still, we find its grace
Kevin, this was a peaceful way to begin the day.
Indeed, Kevin. Lots of counting and rhyming. I used the rhyme website a few times.
Your Luc Bat offers such a place-centered narrative of your path with the “long coyote call” leading from change to rearrange and place to grace. I love the possibility and perhaps need for strangers to find grace in new places.
Thank you,
Sarah
This poem took me along a path into a peaceful forest. “We find its grace.”
Kevin–I think your walk on that forest path brought my blood pressure down! Truly full of grace…
Kevin, just loved this! I especially loved the pauses in the punctuation — the dashes, the semicolon — that encouraged us to rest a bit and take in your language — structure fit form indeed. Thanks. 🙂
Oops! I meant structure fit meaning — typing too fast. 😉
Kevin,
I wish I had read your poem earlier in the day because it would’ve encouraged me to push through. You’ve crafted a Luc Bat poem that flows with such ease and beauty.
Gorgeous images!