This is the Open Write, a place for educators to nurture their writing lives and to advocate for writing poetry in community. We are here every month. The next Open Write is July 19-21.
Our Host
Tammi is a District Gifted Intervention Specialist, middle school Power of the Pen writing coach, and all-around book nerd who’s been sharing her love of reading, writing, and poetry with students for 18 years. When she’s not lost in a stack of young adult books, you’ll find her rocking out to music with her family, hiking through the woods, marveling at the magic of her son’s mushroom farm, or belting out show tunes with her daughters at the latest musical. Based in Cleveland, Ohio, Tammi has published poetry and short stories in Ethical ELA’s teacher resource books, Words That Mend, 90 Ways of Community, and Just YA. She is also the author of the YA verse novel Perchance to Dream.
Inspiration
In 2021, I participated in a 12-hour poetry marathon, where one prompt explored the meaning of the word “normal.” I reflected on how my family’s nerdiness was our normal. Now, I invite you to write a poem defining normal—past or present, how it should change, or how it’s always been unique in your family. Any interpretation works! Or pick another nuanced word to explore.
Process
- Use the word “normal” or another word of your choice.
- Brainstorm examples or characteristics of that word as they relate to your life or the world around you past or present.
- Write a poem that defines your chosen word. Your poem may take any form.
Teaching Ideas
- Choose nuanced vocabulary words for students to incorporate into their poems.
- Have students select nuanced words to describe a character from a novel studied in class and use the word in their poem.
Tammi’s Poem
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.
Recompense
as normal as falling asleep
I’d stay and talk, but my heavy eyelids won’t stop closing
as normal as the faint dirt felt under my fingernails
I can’t just wash my hands every few minutes
as normal as the antibodies, the bacteria, the battle between tiny germs in tiny helmets with tiny swords and tiny shields
as normal as everyone
let’s generalize your experiences, let’s assume conformity
as normal as breathing
as common as suffocation
as normal as justification
but I brought this on, I did this to myself
I wouldn’t normally say this
but that’s really pretty normal
Luke —
I love the structure of your poem with your juxtapositions between what is presumed normal and what actually occurs.
These contrast in thes outcomes really got me —
“as normal as breathing
as common as suffocation”
Tammi- I love your nerd family poem! What a fantastic celebration of the humans you’ve nurtured- I feel the love and acceptance!
Normal Lies
Normal shaves your legs,
not your head
Normal nods along with lies
and doesn’t make waves
Normal packs peanut butter and jelly
on white bread instead
of the good stuff
only your mom makes
Normal slaps its hand
over your mouth
Don’t tell
your truth.
As a former head shaver, you had me at the first line – ! : ) Interesting to see how the weight of external forces appears in each of these poems, since that label (normal) is one that comes from judgement, but this one ending on a silencing takes it to a dark place. And the verb “slaps” is a powerful one. It makes me wonder if the speaker here is okay with all these ‘normals’ or not. It makes for a good discussion point! Thanks, Emily.
I read the poem before my eyes found the title and I loved loved loved it. Such a theme across all of the poems for this prompt- normal is hiding us, which is wrong. Thanks for sharing this piece.
You’ve packed a lot in this short poem, Emily. I do get a feeling of judgement as I read it, but also a bit of rebellion. Your last line really has me thinking.
Emily — I love your ending and am intriqued by your truths!
Tammi, I look forward to inviting my students to explore what normal means. Thank you for this thought-provoking prompt.
I’ve spent decades
chasing normal
down playground slides
and between lunchroom tables.
I learned to wrap my tongue
around cinders
and squeeze my voice
through the thinnest normal straw.
I brayed and betrayed
my conscience,
contorted desperation
into the acceptable shape of laughter.
Later, I pretended
belief, blessed my almost-normal children
while beating my unruly mind
with a thin thorned cross.
Now mounting the sad height,
normal stumbles.
Maybe I could catch her now
but I’ve forgotten why.
Allison,
I love the way your poem unfolds with a desire, and the ending “Maybe I could catch her now/ but I’ve forgotten why” is a wonderful reminder of how time changes our perspective.
Allison, just wow! I always appreciate when a poet shows me vulnerability. Such powerful stanzas and images come through for me.
Allison, we were on the same wavelength, I think, for this prompt!! I love the line “the acceptable shape of laughter”- yes. Very beautiful language and familiar difficult moments!
Oh, through so much of this I could feel the contrition, the kind of shrinking and reshaping of one life just to satisfy others. Again, that external force is interesting when looking at what people ‘allow’ to be persuaded is the normal. I felt almost a sense of anger at times when reading this, as though the speaker has been tormented, yet, at the end, when the ‘tormentor’ seems to be falling away, I actually felt a sense of sorrow – like that blend of empathy and pity for an elder person who wasn’t a very nice person in their life, but they are now old and frail and vulnerable. The “I’ve forgotten why” line is such a solid chop. Mic drop moment! Thank you, Allison.
The last two lines took my breath. I loved the closure there and the growth. Thank you for sharing this.
Such gorgeous language, Allison. I love “I learned to wrap my tongue around cinders.” And the “almost-normal children” made me laugh out loud- I can certainly relate!
Thank you Allison. What great phrases that hit me as thought provoking and fresh! “I learned to wrap my tongue/ around cinders”, “my almost-normal children”, normal stumbles”.
Allison, your poem is incredible! The betrayal to one’s self comes across vividly. I am in total awe of your second stanza. The burning need to speak but holding back is riveting! Your closing lines are troubling. Sending hugs, friend! Your gift of crafting compelling and provocative poems and essays, never ceases to amaze me!
Family Tanka
By Mo Daley 6/22/25
We show up whether
you want us to or not, and
we’ll crack bad jokes to
relieve pain, but we’ll always
be there in a time of need
Mo,
This sounds like the perfect family to have!
Mo, this is the best kind! I would have you as a family.
That’s my kind of family and my kind of pain relief!! I connect to this one, and the value of presence and the healing power of humor (even if they’re bad jokes!)
Mo,
what more could anyone ask for!
Tamara—what a great prompt! Nerd families are the best kind of normal. One of my daughters’ best teen fights was a screaming argument about the e.e. Cummings poetry book that was supposed to be kept in the hall and one of the girls hadn’t returned it! I started to write about us, but got sidetracked by our world.
Normal
Normal moved out of the neighborhood.
He was a good guy to have around,
but I never really trusted him.
There was always
something not quite right,
something under the surface.
His smile never really reached his eyes.
I always figured that things would be OK, though.
He was better than his cousin, Sub Normal.
At least we knew what to expect.
So, anyway, he left suddenly this January.
We hadn’t been getting along lately,
and I guess he’d had it with us
His brother, Ab moved into his house.
Ab Normal is a whole different vibe.
Since he got here, things have been a total mess.
I didn’t think Norm was all that great,
but this guy, Ab is a disaster.
I’m not sure he’s going to leave anything for the rest of us.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem in a hurry to head out.
Para Normal, the youngest brother,
has offered to interfere,
but I’m not so sure that’s a great idea, either.
He has some crazy beliefs,
and seems like he would just complicate
an already bad situation.
If we promised to be kinder,
do you think Normal would return to the neighborhood?
We should have appreciated what we had when we had it.
We’ve learned our lesson now.
Please?
Gayle Sands
6/22/25
Clever, Gayle!
I especially like these lines:
Gayle — A teen fight over an e.e.Cummings poetry book! Yes! That is gloriously nerdy! I love it!
Getting sidetracked by our world is the norm these days and your story of Sub Normal, Ab Normal and Para Normal are great metaphors for our insane leadership.
I’m all for kindness and the return of normal. Yes, please!
Gayle, I could feel you working your way into this poem! Sub and Ab put me on alert for the the fun to unfold! Thank you!
Gayle, I loved how you played with this feeling of being in the political twilight zone, and yes please, could we return to normal?! The plea at the end echoes a true longing….
So clever, Gayle, but I would also really love to hear about that cummings book!
Tammi, I thinking and thinking and thinking about NORMAL. I know I would feel right at home in your house of nerds. My dear cousin just had brain surgery, and we are on pins and needles wondering/hoping/praying that she will recover, so this is all I can think about.
What Used to be Normal
It used to be normal
Syl answering my calls
with her happy trill,
Syl talking and talking
and sharing and telling
me all the goings on,
Like I was just with her,
Like we were kids again,
Like we were secret keepers.
It used to be normal
Syl’s voice encouraging
Her blue eyes sparkling.
Now, nothing is normal
She lays so still and silent
Machines pumping and humming
Only prayers are normal now
Prayers, promises, poems
Waiting to return to normal.
Joanne, here’s to the “prayers, promises, poems” of recovery and normal for Syl. I’m sorry you have to have this worry.
Joanne, I am sending kind thoughts to you and your family hoping that Syl will recover well and bring back your normal. you are so right:
“Only prayers are normal now
Prayers, promises, poems”
Joanne,
The contrast of Syl’s personality and the stillness of the hospital room make the distance from normal more intense. I like the alliteration of the last stanza, but I think the stanza with the repeated likes takes me through the remembering process with you.
I am hopeful there is a return to normal.
Joanne, so much of the end of your poem shakes me to the core – – this has been my normal for the past few weeks. Today, for the first time in many, many days, I am putting one foot in front of the other again and having some faith that I’ll get back to a routine where I can brush my teeth and think about what I’m doing. I’m so sorry you are having to do the waiting game to return to normal – – that is one tough road, friend, and I’m so sorry you are on it……hugs and prayers.
Joanne, it used to be normal…and the difference is so heartbreaking. Hoping the normal is true again…
Joanne, I am grateful to meet Syl in this way of sparkling blue and sending comfort in the waiting.
Joanne, I’m so sorry your family is going through this! Thank you for sharing and crafting this for us. Your penultimate stanza is subtle and sublime with its repetitions of Ns, Ss, and Ms: “Now, nothing is normal / She lays so still and silent / Machines pumping and humming.” You and your family are in my thoughts!
Oh Joanne,
This is hard. Thank you for sharing what you are and your family are going through.
I love these lines that show us your love and closeness:
And so much truth in your last stanza:
Sending healing thoughts and peace to you and Syl and your family.
Joanne — sending prayers to your cousin for recovery and return to your normal. I hope you hear her voice trilling on the phone again soon.
Joanne,
I sincerely pray that your dear cousin pulls through and has a complete recovery.
These lines reminded me of how close I was to my cousins:
🙏🏽
Joann- lifting up your prayers, promises and poems for your dear cousin. I love how you capture how special she is – happy trill, sharing goings on, sparkling eyes, secret keeper.
Tammi, thank you for the great prompt. I like your “house of nerds”; it sounds like a wonderful place to spend an evening. I am enjoying reading all the normal poems today. Who would have thought? I was struck today at how slow good change is in coming to our world.
1968
Normal was burning my skin
at the beach,
peeling the skin off my nose
multiple times until healed.
Normal was playing outside
until the street lights came on.
Normal was a growing wealth gap.
Normal was a Father Knows Best façade.
Normal was purporting white supremacy.
Normal was protesting our government.
Normal was America’s war lust.
2025
Too much is still normal.
Denise – More and more, I prefer 1968, summertime as a twelve-year-old – YES!
Denise,
This was all so familiar to me! I can’t believe I would use baby oil as tanning oil!
So sad that 2025 is still showing all the abnormalities or NORMAL.
Denise, I agree, the good change is much slower than we want. “Too much is still normal” hits me in the rib. Who and how it can be normal I can’t comprehend. You always notice these crucial points that some may dismiss or omit. I appreciate it more than I say.
Denise,
Thanks for taking on this past vs. present dichotomy, but ending it in a sobering way. It is always strange when we cover the “I Have a Dream” speech in class. MLK talks about it being a hundred years, and it keeps smacking me in the face that that was almost 50 years ago, and there is still so much gradualism hanging on…I don’t really know if we will ever get past our baser nature, especially if so many purported christians are okay with the way things are…I liked that you didn’t italicize normal at the end. That’d be the kind of knee jerk thing that I would do.
Denise. Clever use of years to set the temporal narrative and contrast. The peeling image is apt as I wish we’d peel back the harm and work toward healing as a country.
Denise,
Your poems progression from light “playing outside/until the street lights came on” to heavy
“Normal was America’s war lust” makes me reflect sadly on how little we have learned from our past. The wealth gap keeps growing & white supremacy is still a real threat. We seem to be stuck.
Denise- I love how you capture the normal that was mostly not okay (except the playing outside!) it started out as nostalgia and became a deft critique! Agreed!!
Hello,
Tammi – thank you for the interesting prompt today. I love the way the ten-year-old “recognized the tropes” and recites Shakespeare, and the way “normal” is in the eye of the beholder. Your poem made me think of the word “sophisticated” – as I just finished reading thousands of AP essays in which students can earn a point for “sophistication” – such a nuanced word! Ironically, demonstrating nuance is one way to earn the point…
June 2025 Open Write Day 2
Sophistication
How do you know when something is sophisticated?
Does it stand out in the crowd,
Like the cracked egg hiding in the last row of the egg carton?
Like the tenor that almost hits the right key?
Like the puppy in the litter with the lazy eye?
Or, does it inspire you to think in a new way,
Like a Dali painting with a melting clock?
Like a plot twist in which we discover it was all a dream?
Like a magic trick that is impossible to figure out?
Or, does the moniker simply impart respect?
I like to think that sophistication is all around us,
In everyone, but sometimes, it is hidden away,
And it needs to be gently coaxed out of its shell.
Shaun, I can see that “sophistication” in an AP essay would be hard to recognize. Nuanced, definitely. I like the “does it” questions you ask about sophisticated and then the possible examples. Your poem has me thinking in new ways today.
Shaun, so many apt similes here and into the shift of imaging rupture of status quo. The poem is a coaxing for sure.
Shaun — My nerdy ten year old, Shakespeare enthusiast has just graduated from high school. She absolutely loved her AP Lit class and AP Language last year and is planning on majoring in English. Her love of words and stories stuck with her.
Love this question —
“Or, does it inspire you to think in a new way,
Like a Dali painting with a melting clock?” This painting also makes for a great creative writing prompt.
I agree sophistication really is a nuance word that can be discovered around us or coaxed out.
The ‘standing out in a crowd’ concept caught me at first – ha! – was I not sophisticated enough to understand it? I was like – why all these flaws as ‘sophistication’ – but then, aha! You have to be discerning to notice these (seemingly) slight differences. Of course, I was also distracted by the poor little puppy with the lazy eye – will anyone love it? : ) I like thinking of sophistication as needing to be coaxed, especially in relation to your students and their writing. Congrats on surviving reading all those essays!
I love those Poetry Marathons and always thought those prompts would recycle well – it’s great to see this one. My brain stuck on this response to the prompt, though I tried throughout the day to move away from it, so I guess it needs to come out here. Drafted on cardboard with comic visuals. Thank you, Tammi!
“NORMAL”
I say as I look in the mirror
OVER and OVER and OVER again
until the word and the vision I see
no longer feel real to me.
Later I sit and watch the news on TV
staring at the screen
OVER and OVER and OVER again
until the world and the vision I see
no longer feel real to me.
(“Normal,” I whisper.)
I love your graphic poems, Denise. You are giving me courage to give it a try. This is such an uncertain time and you show that so well.
Denise, wow. So true. How can these images on the screen become so normal? It’s heartbreaking.
Denise, such a great repetition of language from mirror to screen, comparing the word and world with vision.
Denise—yes. Just yes. And I love the graphic!
Denise — I agree with you. What we are witnessing, doesn’t feel real and your final whisper “Normal” is chilling.
I think your graphic poems are really cool. I want to try using graphic poems with student
I HIGHLY recommend the book ‘The Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Graphic Literature: Artists and Writers on Creating Graphic Narratives, Poetry Comics, and Literary Collage’ Edited by Kelcey Ervick and Tom Hart. Every chapter is by a different contributor, and each chapter is like a lesson plan you could use in class. If I were to design a new class, it would just be to teach that book!
Hi Tammi,
Thanks for hosting. I like the idea of focusing on one characteristic in a family, as you did. I like the repetition in your poem. This prompt made me think of the first line of Anna Karenina when I think about my family: “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” I used that and something I told students as inspiration and made my poem expansive to include extended family.
Nor•Mal Dys•Func•tion
We put the fun in dysfunctional
before Opera made it popular.
Cousins disavowing their parents, gone
forever
S•T•R•E•T•C•H•E•S of time sans contact
Sons eloping to skip vow shows
St. Louis Cardinals baseball fangirling
Dogs named Cookie x five.
Riding pigs & catching fireflies as kids
Skipping funeral gatherings after death
Missouri Show-Me mindset
Military service in just & unjust wars
Politics & Religion uniting & dividing
We put the fun in dysfunctional
before Opera made it normal.
Glenda Funk
June 22, 2025
Glenda, I love how your poem evokes such a sense of story–what happened before and what happened after? Also, the recurrent sense of dividing and uniting. Thanks for sharing.
Glenda, I like the framing of your poem within these lines:
“We put the fun in dysfunctional
before Opera made it normal.”
Very precise and clever. For some reason, I didn’t think of it, but it’s obvious.
This one made me chuckle:
“Dogs named Cookie x five.”
And unfortunately, politics and religion divide more than ever. Sad.
Oh, my goodness, Glenda, I always learn something new from you. I’m just watching Second City Lyric Opera and laughing so much. You have included some of fun family quirks as well as some disturbing systemic dysfunctions. Nice bookends with the first and last couplets.
Thanks Glenda,
The specific nature of your family’s dysfunctionality really made it come to life in terms of my own family. I love the theme of dodging weddings and funerals in one form or another…and in all the brokenness, service in just and unjust wars really resonated for me as a sign of commitment. I’d love to see the things that make your family laugh and cry!
Glenda, so many wonderful moves here with the spacing and the mark (what’s that called boy a hyphen) and proper nouns so specific they could be anywhere.
Glenda—what a rollicking poem! Can I hang out with your people? I feel like I would fit right in!
Glenda,
I love how you embrace family dsyfunction with humor and how you own it: “we put the fun in dysfunction”
I love this image — “Riding pigs & catching fireflies as kids.” While I am no stranger to catching fireflies, I’ve never rode a pig. I find this both hilarious and intriquing.
Glenda — many of these ring very familiar … isn’t it stunning. how much dysfunction plays in our lives? Hugs to you, Susie
Glenda, I love this. It feels like a fun ride along with you. And sandwiching it all between those two lines works beautifully!. What’s normal anyway!??
Thank you, Tammi, for this interesting prompt which I meant to get at first thing this morning, but things went haywire on this totally normal day (as if any day is normal). Love getting a glimpse into your house of nerds–you would all be very welcome at my house! I couldn’t read your prompt without shouting Norm! in my head and the script references took off from there.
NORM!!(al)
Normal is as normal does.
Isn’t that how the saying goes?
(I know it’s stupid is as stupid does,
but it feels like
we’re ok with subbing the word
normal
for the word stupid,
as if everything’s normal
er… stupid
or whatever).
No, no,
no need to look away.
Everything’s normal here
because we’re bringing back asbestos
on one hand
and cancelling vaccines with the other,
bombing Iran from one end
and shootin’ our mouth off
from the other.
I’m ready to get off this ride,
Sometimes you wanna go
Where everybody knows your name
You know what I mean
Where people are all the same
cuz we’re more alike
than not, ya know
(or at least most of us are).
What was I saying?
Oh,
yeah…
It’s time to
get out of line,
unconform.
Or, as HL Mencken said,
“Hoist the black flag
and begin slitting throats.”
Yep.
That’s where I’m at.
It’s gotten that bad.
But really
Everything’s under control.
Situation normal.
We’re all fine here now.
Thank you.
How are you?
I like how your poem reads like a ramble in your head. “Everything’s normal” while everything falls apart. A battle cry!
Jennifer,
Amen! I want to get off this f***ing ride. Stupid is the new normal + evil. I fought off the temptation to go global but sure love that you heeded the call. I used to tell students I don’t want to be normal. It’s so average, so mediocre. Love your poem and your righteous indignation.
Jennifer, I knew someone was going to give it a go, and you did! Wonderfully delivered with a call “to get out of line, unconform.”
Jennifer — Truth! You had me hooked with your first lines, and I continued nodding “yes” the whole read through. You’ve captured all the crazy going to a T. “I’m ready to get off this ride” too!
A perfect stream of consciousness poem! In answer to your question—I’m fine, too!
Oh my gosh, Jennifer, I am right where you are…ready to slit throats. I want off this ride as well. You capture my emotional state so well. I love the stream of consciousness kind of ramble…it’s how my mind feels all the time now. Heaven help us all. These were my favorite lines:
I hope to get to the other side of this when we can all hold hands and thank heavens that we survived… oh how I hope we survive and there is still a country left worth living in. Love you, Susie
Jennifer,
I am with you, friend! Enough already!
I love the flow and punch of your message.
Tammi, Thank you for hosting us today and sharing a snapshot of your home’s normal. Features of home so clearly shared.
a new normal
a new normal began the day, I walked out my classroom door
morning alarms traded for leisurely cups of coffee
morning walks driven by what lay before my eyes not hands on my watch face
I still enjoy a shower before heading out in the morning to exercise class or propagating trees
kitchen time accepts my full attention – the thought “another thing I need to . . .” – absent
in evening a television distraction, my current read before turning out the light
time evolves
Jamie, this sounds so enticing. I think the one that really got me was “the thought ‘another thing I need to…’ – absent.” It’s the have-to’s that really do me in. I’m so glad this is your normal now. I’m looking forward to the day this becomes normal for me!
Jamie,
This new normal sounds idyllic. It’s giving teacher summer vibes.
Jamie, isn’t it the best “new normal”? I am glad you are able to relax and take thing slow. Happy summer!
Hi Jamie,
Is this summer normal or a new retirement normal? I love the slow and gentle pace of your days.
Enjoy!
retirement!
Jamie — Your new normal sounds so peaceful. “Morning alarms traded for leisurely cups of coffee” are the best ways to wake up. Enjoy!
Jamie, your poem aptly reads like a much needed exhalation….aah…a well-earned new life. I’m so happy for you. Susie
Hi Jamie,
I almost wrote a poem wondering about what my new normal of retirement would be like.
Love these lines:
Hoping to find that focused calm myself. Thanks for showing me the way!
Jamie, I ate up your poem. At 65, I am beginning to think about what life after teaching might look like. Thank you for this peek into your new normal.
Tammi,
Thanks for the prompt today. I did a version of it where it was way too political, and darker than need be, and worthy of considering a vent more than anything. This version is a bit more fun, and still has a bit of bite to it, but not as bleak in nature. I just went to normal happy place of the past, though I didn’t really know how to cut it off…
LIVING THE PARADIGM SHIFT
Playing cards in bicycle spokes,
the smell of baking bread on the way to school,
feeling awkward around girls in eighth grade,
feeling awkward around kids in a new class,
feeling awkward,
having a goldfish,
having a brother who would swallow a goldfish on a dare,
milk from a carton spraying through a laughing nose,
getting a puppy,
finding God,
finding yourself,
finding time,
questioning…
losing count,
losing patience,
losing wisdom teeth,
losing virginity,
losing to the Mets in ‘86,
learning to drive on a stick,
learning the hard way,
traveling across borders,
traveling into uncharted territory,
going above the treeline,
going into a valley of despair,
going for more beer,
going when I should have stayed home,
going, going, gone,
going home too early,
going for a colonoscopy,
feeling regret,
feeling upset,
feeling a numb cheek,
missing home,
missing a spot,
missing her perfume,
missing the view from the peak,
missing the connection by minutes,
missing the kids,
missing the Sunday Register,
missing Grandma and Grandpa,
missing the exit,
knowing in your heart,
knowing purpose,
knowing doubt,
knowing those normals are gone.
Rex, this repetition of beginning words allows us to fall into the normal just long enough for it to feel normal (or the memory of normal)–such a good place to be, even briefly as the “normals are gone.” I can relate to many (but not so much the goldfish memory – yikes!).
Rec,
I love the progressive verb forms. They give a sense of movement and passing time, the chronological march from birth to death with each stage capturing a new normal, noted in the catalogue of experiences.
The changing anaphora is so great and reflects those subtle life transitions!
Rex,
I really love the movement of this poem. You capture the stages of life so powerfully and beautifully. I can relate to many of your moments.
The final line is gold. What a beautiful structure for storytelling and evolution of time. Thanks for sharing
Wow. This pulled me in and through your story. The repetition, the movement through your life, the wistfulness in the end.
Rex,
love the repetition and variation. I also like how your structure gives everything equal weight—which feels right since as we experience something it takes precedence.
And that wistful last line:
Brilliant accounting of a lifetime of highs and lows and in-betweens.
I loved reading this, great contribution, Thank you Rex
Normal
Call Mom, check on her.
Call the kids, check on them.
Do they need money?
Don’t we all…
Are you hungry?
I’ll get on the ball- hustle, hustle, shop, cook, clean.
A splinter in your toe?
A tummy ache?
A cold?
I’ll get the meds, I’ll tuck you in. I’ll make it all better.
Then I’ll start again.
Husband needs too… lots of bills to pay.
Maybe I’ll help him stay and add another day to this contract long come due.
Can we pay for lessons for the kids?
Student loans? Rent?
It won’t last forever – one foot in front of the other.
It’s just the norm. stay. a little more…
I love the to-do-list nature of this piece. Has urgency and tension mingled with the family moments you’re savoring. I enjoyed this normal piece. Thanks for sharing
Rachel, I enjoyed your list of daily responsibilities and details. Short and succint yet endless. Your list takes us in so many directions.
Phew, Rachel! I feel every bit of this. How did we let our lives become so overly full that your list feels like mine like everyone’s, like it’s normal? What a great take on the prompt! Even knowing that it won’t last forever (are we just lying to ourselves?), doesn’t take the edge off.
Rachel — Your poem is so authentic, capturing how much people, especially mom’s, have on their plates. Love how positivity shines through with “One foot in front of the other”
I remember those days. Reading your poem ratcheted up my anxiety as I read it. You provided that sense urgency throughout.
this begged for a blitz poem…
chaos is normalized
create fear
create chaos
chaos is cover
chaos is norm
normalize wreckage
normalize uncertainty
uncertain what is happening
uncertain what is truth
truth is manufactured
truth is a joke
joke on the world
joke on America
America for grifting
America for sale
sale of due process
sale of rights
rights are disputable
rights are revoked
revoke refuge
revoke order
order is gone
order is now panic
panicked workers
panicked families
families off-balance
families erased
erase history
erase past hurts
hurt the weak
hurt everyone
everyone else is the problem
everyone else messed up
up yours
up all that you believe
believe in blitz
believe in headlines
headlines headlines headlines
headlines as whiplash
whiplash policy
whiplash success
success is constant
success is you can’t keep up with all that I am destroying
destroying all that was
destroying all
all predictability
all rules and norms
normalize chaos
normalize corruption
corruption
chaos
This form is incredible and definitely how my brain works, I would love to try it. As for the content- oof. Thanks for sharing this as your take on normal; chaos is certainly the norm now. Wow.
Maureen — Your choice in a blitz poem is perfect for the topic. It felt like rapid fire, whiplash and yes, chaos. What a way to make a poem come alive. Just unfortunate that it is the sad truth!
Maureen, I just started Rachel’s response with Phew! But that’s what’s needed here too. I’ll have to re-familiarize myself with the blitz poem–it’s the perfect form for your words. And it sure does feel as if we’re under a blitzkrieg attack, with everything coming at us, again, and again. So good!
Maureen, Chilling and Perfect! I think the Blitz poem is new to me! A stream of consciousness, rapid fire 50-line poem with short staccato lines with no punctuation and no time to breathe. Yes, please! Lol. Thank you for crafting this! (“[N]ormalize chaos / normalize corruption”: ugh.)
Maureen, this is brilliant. It reads like the firehose that we are all forced to drink from. Every square inch of this poem is happening all around me here in STL. It is unnerving, horrific. I am so utterly pissed and heartbroken watching families around me destroyed. I so appreciate the strong voice and the outrage that your poem carries. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Love, Susie
Amazing blitz. And amazing representation of our world today. Chaos. Wow.
wow, great. I love the chaos presented to the reader and the deeply felt questioning throughout.
Last night, we watched
a brief YouTube clip
of some nature program
where scientists created a
motorized pile of poop
to follow around a herd
of elephants to see,
I guess, what elephants
got up to when people
weren’t around; The whole
thing was bizarre. There were
small spherical camera turds
that would break away and
roll off the larger mound and,
at one point, the camera egret,
another brilliant idea from the
scientists, was riding along on top
of the mound as they both followed
behind the herd, and all of this, of
course, was narrated by the thick
Scottish brogue of David Tennant.
And then Trump, the man who,
within the past month, has proven,
twice now, that he doesn’t quite
understand the particulars or, to be
honest, even the broadest strokes of
the Declaration of Independence,
apparently briefed only the top
congressional Republicans but not
the Democrats before he ordered
three US strikes on Iran, so, yeah,
Situation Normal: All F*cked Up.
________________________________________________________
Tammi, thank you for your prompt today and for your mentor poem! I can get behind your “House of Nerds”! “[R]eciting lines of Shakespeare” is, absolutely, “entertainment”! And I love the truth behind “Normal is introversion but not misanthropy.” Same. For my offering, I started with my evening last night and then the acronym SNAFU just presented itself and the poem just wrote itself (after a fair amount of editing and revising, lol).
How you connect and parallel these is so well crafted and genius. And oof. And grrr. And thanks for writing, keep doing it.
Scott– YES! This is exactly the image that fits the bizarre elephant in the middle of the room. “Situation …All F*cked Up. BTW, I’ve watched the scientific cam bots on the nature channels…so inventive, strange, and weird. But I can’t bear to watch Señor Naranja drag us into an unholy nightmare war. I’m heading to the library to read my poem from April about el disastre en la oficina oval, the one I modeled after “The Raven.” Nevermore, will things be “normal.” Hugs, Susie
“Situation Normal” – indeed! This is brilliant, Scott. I believe the “camera egret” riding along the top of the mound may be my favorite part. I am laughing and sobbing. The parallels are spot on.
Scott — I was intrigued by the nature video, and the fact that it was narrated by David Tennant (the best doctor in my opinion) had me laughing and definitely wanting to search up this video. Then your veer to Trump — that was just brilliant. You totally nailed it! When our normal is “All F*cked Up,” you know our country is in a bad place.
Scott, this is perfection–from SNAFU to the turds (and aren’t there so many ways to connect your first stanza to the second? I mean, first there are turds in both…). Love it! Love your writing. Love everything about this, except, well, except for the big orange turd.
Yep.
Tammi, thank you for hosting us today. I am enjoying the freedom to write this second day of summer.
The end of your poem is deeply moving:
Joy
Joy is not my first name
Don’t ask me again, “No, what is your last name?”
It’s the name I earned from a man who did not deserve me
Joy is not synonymous with happiness
It is sustaining, everlasting, and fulfilling
It doesn’t waver like commitments or hide like lies
Joy is bold and strong and steady
It conquers my fears and stands in the gaps
It lingers with my soul like lullabies and gumbo
Joy is my birthright
Suffering endures for a night
But joy always comes in the morning
©Stacey L. Joy, 6/22/25
Ahhh, Stacey — How are you, girl?! I love that you discussed your “Joy” in this poem. I feel the strength in the 3rd line…great voice. And the excellent way you set the definition straight… not some fleeting yahooty…Joy is enduring. And that makes me so glad to count you among my friend. Hugs and love, Susie
Love love love your strength, your conviction – so many beautiful lines – yes, joy, is “sustaining, everlasting, and fulfilling ”
This is painfully beautiful, I really love the use of Joy and pain throughout. Thank you for sharing this
Joy
There is so much strength in your words. This line really struck me — “It’s the name I earned from a man who did not deserve me.”
I love how you have turned pain into joy.
Amen. You’ve embraced all that Joy is and this poem is all that you are! Love that last line.
Tammi,
Thanks for this open-ended prompt. I enjoyed the opportunity to describe what I’ve been seeing during a visit with family to New Mexico. Looking forward to what the prompt will spark in our other poets.
Thank you for welcoming us into your “House of Nerds.” I’d love to visit as I’d fit right in.
These lines felt especially cozy and comforting:
———————————————-
Ruidoso Interlude
Blue skies
Green pine needles gathering raindrops
Packed dirt hiking trails for our three generations to share with wild horses, mule deer and elk
Dark-eyed Juncos with red wings hopping in the rented yard
Shiny black ravens soaring and cawing
Blue and white pygmy nuthatches upside down in the Ponderosas near the porch where we are reading
Elusive Grace warblers heard
Their yellow as yet unseen
What a vivid scene in nature. I am drawn to the “heard yet unseen” piece as I think about the sounds here. Beautiful.
Sharon, how inviting and gorgeous! These lines pull me in and hold me in peace.
💚💙
Sharon — Your gorgeous images pull me into this scene. I can see and hear it all! Enjoy your peaceful interlude in nature!
Sharon, I enjoyed the picture you painted with your words of your current normal. So nice, when life can take a shift to include beauty and loved ones.
“Ruidoso Interlude” – you have magically, poetically introduced me to this gorgeous place. What an adventure – three generations on wild horses! Enjoy.
Sharon, your poem is just in time as we prepare for our West coast road trip and will be passing New Mexico. Your first three lines set up a vivid image that attracts my attention:
“Blue skies
Green pine needles gathering raindrops
Packed dirt hiking trails…”
The rest of the poem gives out a careful observer and nature watcher. Thank you for this beautiful imagery!
Thanks for hosting Tammi ~ I recognize your house of Normal and have lived there. You’ve captured Normal in all its nerdiness…).
Normal
Normal is finding out I don’t know much,
and bundling all my bubble, jumps and chatterbox stories
from Brooklyn and pushing then down deep
because at my new school, no one wants to hear them
and, no, I didn’t know that because my name ended in a vowel
I was Italian, and Italians only got to turn the rope and never jump.
Normal is finding out that I don’t know much
when Mary told me her mother hid liquor in the chandelier
and no, I didn’t know half the town went to AA.
I didn’t know that when you were sick
not every mother put a flower on the lunch tray,
and not every father brought home a treat after work.
Normal is finding out I don’t know much,
that not all marriages last forever,
and not everyone can make a baby.
I didn’t know some people hear voices that aren’t there
and no, I didn’t know love doesn’t conquer all.
Now, normal is finding out how to work around my ignorance—
(not the quickest learner, but I do catch on),
Now I speak out. I carry signs, I share my poems and my stories
with people who won’t hurt me.
Now normal is never being shocked to go to bed at peace
and wake up to war.
So much ooooof and I loved it. The last stanza stings in so many contexts. I was especially drawn to the repetition and chandelier. Thanks for sharing this
Woooooow,
So much to behold and ponder, appreciate and love. You speak the truth (even when you didn’t know much) and that is to be applauded.
Anne — I feel this! It is really scary what our new normal in the US has become. I am so despondent over the choices being made by our government. I’ll march with you!
I love how you introduce each stanza (except the last) with “Normal is finding out that I don’t know much.” You walk us through your reality of details that show things bigger than they are. There were kind gestures among harsher realities. Your final stanza shares growth through new understanding, experience, mostly growth. And I would say hope til I landed on your final line – “Now normal is never being shocked to go to bed at peace
and wake up to war.” reality
That last line – oh so hard.
“Normal is finding out I don’t know much” – I’ve become so much more aware of my own not knowing as I age – and so much more accepting. I hear acceptance in your words, too.
Ann, your poem brought a new understanding of normal for me–normal is not knowing but learning. It is a life journey from one “normal” to another as people, places, events change.
These lines spoke to me with a gentle touch:
“I didn’t know that when you were sick
not every mother put a flower on the lunch tray,
and not every father brought home a treat after work.”
Another line that stopped me was: “and no, I didn’t know love doesn’t conquer all.” Even a few years ago, I would be devastated by this truth, and yet today, I am sad, but aware of it.
Your final two lines are sobering. I did find out it last night and went to bed worrying what today might bring. Keep speaking out and carrying the signs. I deeply appreciate it. Thank you!
This is so powerful, Ann! So many different normals out there.
I just love
Normal Vultures
It was almost over at that point, enough
that I could start to mourn the last class for now.
Muddy-wet for May near Stillwater,
Washington Pond must have spilled over.
On my way home, I saw one vulture, then
several scattering as I approached to see
remains of a snake snagged on its
journey across. I had never seen a wake of
vultures and thought maybe it was mine.
I counted four there and then at my driveway,
I counted six more perched on our
roof. Lined up like my siblings would
count off at the hardware store for Dad.
So this was my committee. Normal, I guess
for a family to be sending off a sister. I hear
them tile-marching now and then in these final days
before I take flight.
This is eerily beautiful and I love how you broke the lines and thoughts. Thanks for sharing this story and metaphor for me to think about today.
This is beautiful and leaves me with a heavy heart. Thank you for creating and sharing.
Sarah,
The image of vultures perched on your roof are so ominous. I typically think of vultures as scavengers and opportunists but some interpret vultures as a sign of renewal. Your poem leaves me pondering how to interpret the intent of these vultures.
Such a beautiful poem that takes what’s happening on the inside reflected in the landscape on the outside. Those vultures compared to siblings is masterful. The crafting of two line stanzas with enjambment makes me read slowly to absorb your message. Take flight, Sarah. Take flight!
Such inventive writing, Sarah!
I especially love
Sarah, the symbolism of the family in birds is so real. All weekend long we were on the lookout as so much happens where birds are concerned – greetings, sendoffs, symbols in the seemingly mundane moments. Seeing life through the eyes of a poet is a blessed gift – being able to stop and think about the countoff of the hardware store is touching with the way memory comes rushing back.
Tammi, thank you for co-hosting with me this month and for a prompt that made me think since early morning. I love your family of nerds, and I think your children and my children could be friends if lived and grew up closely. My favorite lines for today are:
“We don’t harbor dislike for people, but instead
are uncomfortable with ourselves.”
I am going to think more about this.
I had several ideas about “normal” for today’s poem, so here is the one that resulted in a poem:
Unboxed
They told us to sit still,
to color inside the lines,
to keep our hands down
unless we had the right answer.
But nothing new ever came
from the middle of the bell curve.
Galileo tilted the sky,
Ada Lovelace imagined machines that think,
Frida painted pain into flowers.
Einstein, awkward and strange,
saw the bending of time.
My father returned to the land
his family was exiled from in ’44,
so we could grow up in Crimea—
our ancestral home.
They didn’t fit—
and thank the Universe for that.
Normal builds fences,
sets margins, and confines.
Abnormal leaps over them.
Every great spring forward
was once called a mistake.
So, be the anomaly,
break the boundaries.
Be the difficult question.
Be the color that doesn’t match—
the kind that makes humanity blossom.
Leilya, once again your poetry astounds me with juxtaposition of simplicity and depth. Nothing ever comes from the middle of the bell curve is a line that will stay with me and remind me of ever lesson tucked into your poem.
Powerful and dainty all at once. I always love a historical and cultural relevance to match. This is such a gorgeous reminder of coloring outside the lines. Adore the bell curve line. Thanks for sharing
Leilya — your poem is so beautiful, and I love that “abnormal” is so inspiring
and these lines — “be the anomaly,/break the boundaries.
Be the difficult question./
Be the color that doesn’t match—
the kind that makes humanity blossom” — so powerful!
Leilya,
So beautiful and thought-provoking. So much to love and be inspired by. I especially appreciate:
And I’ll never think of the bell curve the same way again.
Leilya, this line haunts me and brings cerebral muscle to think about it in so many ways:
But nothing new ever came
from the middle of the bell curve.
Wow. That is simply prophetic – – and the simple truths are the most mind-blowing of all.
Leilya. This stanza sings:
“Galileo tilted the sky,
Ada Lovelace imagined machines that think,
Frida painted pain into flowers.
Einstein, awkward and strange,
saw the bending of time.”
amazing.
Tammi, I love this prompt — what is normal for any of us? “A house of nerds” is so full of a sense of “we” –grounding the reader in anyone’s world. Wonderful!
Here is mine –also grounded in childhood-memory.
Weekend Normal
Two shopping carts, a tangle of tentacled limbs
spilling out– five kids, undulating
toward colorful shelves of sugared cereal,
dodging cans of salty beans. Didn’t everybody
do groceries on Friday nights?
Saturday mornings: a barge of a station wagon
ladened with tossables. In we piled, strategically
perched to pitch broken metal mixers, threadbare
cushions from the tailgate– feeding life’s miscellany
into Earth’s maw. Didn’t every Saturday mother demand:
Take them to the dump!
Somehow, between sun-up and noon, she maneuvered
us into clean underwear, dresses, and patent leather shoes…
Five halos– hers in her purse– piety on display,
the perfect Sunday. Didn’t every one pay by the pew…
Set free at noon, when the true
celebration of Sunday could begin?
Patricia, this is such a heartfelt memory! I love that you shared it, and I know many in this community will find it relatable. I didn’t grow up in the States but had heard similar stories and smiled through reading as though recognizing my husband’s Aunt Agnes. There are so many clever, beautiful, delicious lines your poem, but this one will stay with me:
“Five halos– hers in her purse– piety on display,
the perfect Sunday.”
Thank you for sharing.
i really really really love the storytelling here and the references to a “normal weekend” or at least making it look that way. Adore the halo in the purse. Thanks for sharing
Patricia — I love how you transport us into your memories of a normal weekend from hectic Friday night shopping to Sunday at the pew. The details are just beautiful.
This image made me chuckle —
” five kids, undulating
toward colorful shelves of sugared cereal,
dodging cans of salty beans”
Patricia, those memories of the station wagon and Saturday errands and Sunday church are vividly etched in my own childhood as well. I can see you all in the grocery store wanting all the sugar cereals. BooBerries, Cap’n Crunch, Frosted Flakes…..oh, the bliss of a routine and small things to look forward to. Those WERE the best days!
A little frantic prose for this morning’s prompt. I have a lot of connections from yesterday’s definition poems to today’s “normal” and how we define these in terms of our own lives. Thanks for sharing the nerds poem, I love the repetition.
normal
The exact moment when you realize that maybe you were the weird one all that time because someone else’s normal doesn’t match your normal and now you’re frantically staring at theirs and looking at your own and back again and then scanning the room silently screaming, “Please, please, please someone else have it, please I can’t be the only one,” and unable to hide the flush in your checks you laugh and say, “Oh, yeah, I hate when my dad packs my lunch,” and fake ha-ha-ha your way through lunch and keep fake ha-ha-ha-ing every lunch and throw away almost every bite because you are not the weird one who asks her dad to pack her liverwurst sandwiches and lumpy dogfood cookies. In that moment you are clearly not normal and it finally matches how you’ve felt inside your own brain everyday, but now it’s been put on the cafeteria table for all to judge. And in that same moment, you keep your mouth shut, so no more weird can escape.
Sealed up tight.
Oof. C.O — thank you for this…vulnerable, real, so full of every child’s longing to not be different.
C.O. —
This line really resonants with me — “In that moment you are clearly not normal and it finally matches how you’ve felt inside your own brain everyday.” While it wasn’t lunches me that made me feel this way, I do remember having that realization in school that i didn’t fit the definition of normal.
This led to years of insecurity, until I found my people in college where my normal matched their normal.
Thank you, C.O.! This was my intent to create a three-day writing with some common thread of thinking about words, definitions, concepts.
I like that you offered us a prose poem today. I, too, began writing in my notebook after I read the prompt, and one of my ideas was similar to yours “someone else’s normal doesn’t match your normal,” and at this point in my life, I am perfectly okay with it, but it caused so much pain when I was growing up. I appreciate you sharing your perceived “weirdness” moments with us today; I, too, can relate.
This reminds me so much of Nicole Stellon O’Donnell’s You Are No Longer in Trouble. The prose poems that bring us right to the edge, wondering what is next – – the sealed up tight mouth at the end to preserve whatever normal is left – – I have those times too. And for the record, I also love a good liverwurst sandwich – – specifically, a Braunschweiger, with purple onion. I’m coming over to your lunch table to celebrate your uniqueness.
UNDER DAD’S UMBRELLA
Stashed precious bottles of amber
late arrivals night after night, children asleep,
no cell phones then to say “I’m safe, be home soon,”
keeping Mama somber, in the limbo of OMG-what’s-next?
Knowing way too well what a certain set jaw meant,
rehashed grudges, late night tirades,
a precious table with cigarette burn smudges,
never ever a nickel, no loose change.
Eggshells, not just from the chickens,
cracked underfoot at every turn;
teasing, poking at insecurities, the sting, the burn;
the empty seat at graduation.
Where words and phrases trigger
Don’t make me…
I’ll give you something to cry about
Or else…
Please, make me ABnormal.
Except
on Sunday mornings
with warm cinnamon rolls on the yellow formica,
steaming coffee in the percolator,
bacon frying in the cast iron,
blackberries sugared in a bowl,
the “funny papers” on the table,
all of us in the kitchen jabbering,
as if life were normal.
by Susie Morice, June 22, 2025©
Susie, Such a beautiful turn in the “Except” to reveal the flux of normal/abnormal that is so place-based, context-lived and human(ity)-dependent. After reading the layered meaning in eggshells, I read layers in the cinnamon rolls, and the ways the days rolled in and out of safety for the speaker. Same, of course for the funny paper and the nothing funny about the uncertainty/certainty of triggers and triggering. Hugs to this remembering and to all those who know “amber” waves of childhood.
Wow. Powerful word play here and contrast of the two “normal” sides. Thanks for sharing a brave piece of your story.
So much building tension in your poem, Susie –toward those eggshells and the plea: Please…! Such a moment to exhale in your turn with “Except…”
Susie — Wow! This poem is so poignant. I truly felt the sadness “ the sting, the burn;
the empty seat at graduation” and fear “Don’t make me…/I’ll give you something to cry about/ Or else…” in your story.
You’ve captured the complexities of families and how pain and joy can exist in the same space. I can relate.
Oh, Susie, what a poem! I could feel chills and scare, and tension, as the metaphoric eggshells “cracked underfoot at every turn” with pain “the sting, the burn.” The speaker’s plea for ABnormal reads as an SOS signal. The shift to “except” provides some relief. You have so skillfully presented ab/normal duality under the same roof. Thank you!
Susie, wow, you’ve rounded up your memories beautifully. From omg, what’s next to warm cinnamon rolls, frying bacon and funny papers— you’ve recreated a family which is so real, I could visualize it all. From what might have imperfect, you’ve molded something tender and beautiful.
You’ve captured the feeling, the hyper-attune analysis of every possible warning sign, the jawline, the eggshells… every feeling… mixing the sweet sugared berries, the coffee, the “normal” breakfast in a not normal childhood. Thank you for sharing Susie. It’s so powerful.
Susie, this is so poignant and so real. The veil of reality and perception plays so thinly here that I understand the sides of it – the hurts, the anger, the bitter memories and then the other side. Those sugared blackberries and funny papers draw the moment. Except as the one word shift makes this especially powerful. You are a master at bringing us right to the moment.
Susie, this is powerful! I love the literal and figurative mixing with “Eggshells, not just from the chickens, / cracked underfoot at every turn; / teasing, poking at insecurities, the sting, the burn; / the empty seat at graduation.” Thank you for this! (And I hope your poetry reading at the library today was fun and went amazingly well!)
Tammy, I love how this prompt can really be whatever you want it to be. What is normal? Normal changes as you get older. Now I have grandchildren. The normal is quieter until they come around. This morning I am trying to write while they draw.
Kid-Time Normal
All they need
is a marker
and paper—
Imagination soars…
Dinosaurs
with super powers,
Bad guys
with two robot arms,
Magical crystal charms…
Transformed
Transfixed
Time stops
on paper.
More than anything, I love the image of you writing while your grandkids draw at the table. Good on you.
Margaret, Love the economy of words that the line breaks here to play with the hyphen and dash of kid and time ticking through the poem. And such movement in the trio of “t-words” in the closing lines. Lovely call for time stop on paper.
Even your description, “the normal is quieter” is a beautiful way to tell us about the change in normal when kids make up a new normal. How lovely. Time stops on paper is beautiful for young and old alike.
oo, this is beautiful, Margaret. I love the creative images of kids with “marker/and paper” … so true. The wordplay is really effective…the Ts repeated…they punctuate those “time stops” … Lovely. Susie
Oh Margaret, I love the journey into this world where “Time stops/on paper.” How wonderful when “normal” can be wherever imagination might take us!
Margaret — I love the picture you paint of your grandchildren drawing.
“Transformed
Transfixed
Time stops
on paper”
What a joyful image! You are so right, normal defintiely changes over time.
Margaret, those last two lines resonate so deeply with me – – time stops on paper. I can hear the wonderings and the markers capturing the imagination in pictures and full color. This is beautiful, and I can hear and see it all.
NormAll
Norm—a man’s name,
the one that comes to mind
was a beloved TV character
who sat at the bar and drank
a big mug of beer
and his witticisms
to mundane yet memorable
conversations.
Norma—a woman’s name.
the one who comes to mind
was the custodian at
my high school when I was a kid.
Nothing about her stood out
but she comes to mind
40 years later so she must have
left some impression.
Norms—a noun defined as:
a standard or pattern, especially of social behavior, that is typical or expected of a group.
so hard to uphold
while trying to honor uniqueness
and difference
and individuality
but kinda important
for a society (big or small)
to survive and thrive.
Normal—an adjective defined as:
the usual, average, or typical state or condition.
a described that probably
shouldn’t even be used
because it’s coming from
the mouth or pen
of a skewed perspective.
Etymology:
This word initially described a tool used by carpenters to create right angles.
Ponder that.
~Susan Ahlbrand
22 June 2025
Susan, I love how you combined this prompt with yesterday’s. I remember Norm from Cheers, a show we watched weekly. The etymology is interesting. Normal=right.
Susan, I am loving the connection between yesterday and today’s poem in the exploration of words that our June hosts crafted for us. And this stream of consciousness, starting wiht NORM! is perfect and felt like a gentler, personal invitation to me (and others who’d get it)..
All tied up with “ponder that” is genius. I especially love the call out for why we shouldn’t do/listen/use/abide by this so-called standard. Love the multiple uses and connection to yesterday’s prompt.
Susan — You offer a very interesting perspective here. The etymology is, for sure, something to “ponder.” I particularly appreciate the latter stanza’s… “shouldn’t even be used/because it’s coming from/ the mouth or pen/of a a skewed perspective.” For sure! It makes me examine what we’ve come to swallow as normal…and it is anything BUT normal. Good stuff. Thank you. Susie
Susan — I love the way you have used normal to reference names and specific people. The contrast between the definitions of normal and the unique qualities of people with that root in their name is really effective and creative. I am pondering.
Wow — love this journey into etymology –and such a powerful ending to leave us with!
Susan, I love how you connected yesterday’s prompt and today, and, who knows, maybe tomorrow you may do the same. I intended to connect the prompt with a common thread of exploring the words and meanings for this open write. I knew the etymology of “norm,” but somehow didn’t connect it to “normal” and now “Ponder that” – boom! So good!
Tammi, thank you for hosting us today! I love your view of normal – – and that there really isn’t a normal in anything, but all a matter of perspective. Your family sounds delightful, and what a blessing to embrace the belonging!
Normal
the day normal changed
normal changed on Friday the 13th
the way things do
when Dad drew his last breath
my brother and I
had gone home
for showers and sleep
planning to return
shortly
but shortly came sooner
than we’d thought
and the Hospice nurse
called to tell us
we could come spend time
with him before
she called the funeral home
we walked in to find him
under a scripture-embroidered
bright yellow blanket
wearing his Georgia Bulldogs cap
as if he were taking a nap
right before the game
at perfect peace
with the world
as we exchanged
a knowing look:
it would only be normal
for our quirky dad to
wear his velvet-sleeved
doctoral robe
and ball cap straight
through the pearly gates
***
he brought tears
and laughter as folks
realized: this is so Felix!
Kim,
I am so sorry for your loss. That the absence of your father is your new normal makes me so sad. I understand how you feel as I lost my father in April. Your poem made me cry, but I smiled too at the image of your father “wearing his Georgia Bulldogs cap.” May you always carry those beautiful memories of your father enjoying what he loved most. Sending you hugs and prayers.
This snapshot in time, how life turned to “new normal” and your dad was beautifully represented as his normal self. I enjoy this tribute and send hugs. Thanks for the bravery to write.
Kim, I love that you are finding these prompts and turning them to your current grief and processing. That’s what poetry is for. What a character he was! You have captured his spirit here.
Hi Kim, thank you for bringing your father to life for us here. He does sound like quite the character, as Margaret said.
“it would only be normal
for our quirky dad to
wear his velvet-sleeved
doctoral robe
and ball cap straight
through the pearly gates”
that’s something.
my grandpa’s classic hat among many other things said “TOF” – the old fart which was his long time nickname that he gave himself lol.
sorry for your loss ❤️
Oh, Kim. I am so grateful for this opportunity to witness your father’s life and passing, and hold dear your grief in this poem, too. I carry your memories with me in the ways you’ve so tenderly offered them here. For us. For you. I hope the writing, sharing, and community are bringing you some comfort.
Aw, Kim, this is precious. The heart in this poem is so full, an the images of your dad as “so Felix” is just perfect. You are a lucky girl…I know there’s that deep abiding loss, but these are the images that will carry you forever, steeped in love and grins and, yes, tears…but so to-the-bone-good. Hugs, Susie
Kim, I love how you wove normal and not-normal together and brought it home with your last line. Death, losing a loved one, and yet seeing their uniqueness in that final walk — really beautiful.
Oh my gosh, Kim – Felix made sure he made you and your brother laugh! i love that image of him. It is so uplifting! God – “Here comes, Felix! Give him some good work to do! He’s ready!”
Kim, I’m sending my condolences to you and your brother and the whole family on the loss of your dear dad. I like the description of your “quirky dad” and the outfit for going “through the pearly gates”. Lovely honoring poem of your dad.
Kim, this poem is sad, beautiful, and also brings me tears and smiles when I read. I appreciate how you cherish these kind, loving memories of your dad gently folding them into the poems. Hugs, my friend.
Crooked Thoughts
Crooked letters splotched in forgotten time,
Over and again, abstract messages,
of my rhyme.
Listening to terrapins speak,
to dragonflies on the creek.
Feeling trees for ancient energy,
Releasing symbolism from inside me.
Engaging in crow talks,
and fawn walks,
spotted pelts matching childish chalk,
my mind tumbling on my faults.
yet, the crooked letters appear,
deranged for most, to me perfectly clear.
Asking myself to release them daily,
Hooting with owls in a melee.
This is normal to me,
Clear as the breeze, I never see.
Vivid as ants in a line,
or suckles upon the vine.
Splotching my verse informal,
forgotten in my time,
of the abnormal.
Boxer,
I love the rhythm and rhme of your crooked thoughts and the exploration of your writing inspirations. Thank you for taking me along your fascinating journey.
I loved the rhythm here. Of poetry and symbolism on many levels. I was drawn to the spots and chalk. Thanks for sharing this piece of normal
Such a beautiful list poem to walk us through your normal!
Clayton, this is so beautifully written. As I think through “crooked thoughts” and “crooked letters,” I can feel the “tumbling” through what might seem normal and what gets lost in the “melee.” The presence of of nature in this sorting out intrigues me as one who turns to turtles and dragonflies when I want to ground my sensibilities. Fascinating poem. Susie
I love this line, “Clear as the breeze, I never see.” which seems like such a statement of the obvious – ! – while so beautifully rendered in language here. I appreciate all the nature imagery. I only recently (last couple of years) started nature journaling, so all those references speak to me and were a fun discovery with each line. Thanks!