Welcome to Day 5 of the July Open Write. Deepest gratitude to our July poetry hosts: Mo Daley, Susan Ahlbrand, Shelby Sexton, and Mike Dombrowski. If you have written with us before, welcome back. If you are joining us for the first time, you are in the kind, capable hands of today’s host, so just read the prompt below and then, when you are ready, write in the comment section below. We do ask that if you write, in the spirit of reciprocity, you respond to three or more writers. To learn more about the Open Write, click here. See you back here August 19-23 with Denise Krebs, Wendy Everard, Scott McCloskey, and Ashlyn O’Rourke.
We are trying to learn more about the effects of writing poetry as teachers and with students. Will you help us? To learn more and take the survey, click here: https://okstateches.az1.qualtrics.com/jfe/form/SV_0kwyrahDjPxZdoW
Our Host
Michael lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where he completed his first year of teaching at East Leonard Elementary School. He is still working on completing his teaching certificate, but that didn’t keep him out of the classroom. As a long-term substitute for the district, Mike was the 4th grade teacher to start the year and transitioned to Kindergarten in November when the position was left unfilled. Mike spends his time fiddling around on musical instruments, swimming with his dog Baxter, and hanging out with his college sophomore daughter, Abigail.
Inspiration
I changed careers last year and decided to become a teacher. I had worked in IT for over 20 years. Due to shortages and probably for other reasons, our state is allowing accelerated programs for people with degrees to come back and get a teaching certificate. The person can do student teaching if they want, but since I am a single homeowner, I needed something that paid some amount of money. So I signed up with the local district and I started my teaching this year as a long-term substitute without ever having any classroom experience aside from some volunteer work and subbing two days the year before. Again, I had never done any student teaching. The district needs teachers so badly that long term subs are used as the teacher of record. I was given a fourth grade classroom four days before school started. My first day was one of the most anxious, bizarre, overwhelming, but kinda satisfying experiences I had ever gone through.
Process
Your prompt is to write about a time where you were completely out of your element, overwhelmed, or extremely anxious. I don’t want to make you go back to a bad time, but remembering how you overcame this or persevered through it, and then sharing that with others can be a great relief, release.
I started with a nonet form for the poem, trying to keep myself within bounds. I thought the form can kind of build up anxiety on its own by reducing the syllables in each line. Then as the release part of my poem I reversed the form (so I guess an etheree with a line missing), giving the reader room to breathe. You can use any form you want though.
Mike’s Poem
A hole in my body falling in
I find accelerating time
Smell of a room I can’t quit
Kicks, sticks, sick in my mind
Who let me do this
How do I start
Pretend now
My part
Heart
Beats
Burning
Buried fear
Turn to the front
Listen up, please, hear
Always kindness, easy
Prodigious in shyness
He sees, she sees, nearly queasy
Do what you can, don’t look behind us
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. 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. For suggestions on how to comment with care. See this graphic.
I panic at the sight of paper
Will this test decide my future?
It’s been months of studying
Fretting at each error
My breathes are shallow
What’s left to do
12 minutes
now 2
none
My mind fractures over four miles,
Lights clash, gold against neon,
Blips, bings, sounds of pleasure overwhelm,
A labyrinth of lost money blocks my haven in the sky,
One step forward, two back
A push forward, a breath, a hand in my hand,
Ghosts of family in my peripheral,
But they do not come for comfort,
Is this Hell?
The fragmentation of the mind here is beautifully (and uncomfortably) represented by the blips and blings, the overwhelm and the “labyrinth.” Loved your word choice. I also appreciate a feeling of a lane change in the poem: “Ghosts of family in my peripheral” which lent a gravity to the end of the poem and amped up the “Is this Hell?” last line.
I came here several times and as the night ends, I still have nothing. I may try again tomorrow. But thank you Mike for hosting. And best wishes on this journey of teaching. This has truly created a block. But I wanted to share my thoughts on your poem: these first opening lines-“A hole in my body falling in
I find accelerating time
Smell of a room I can’t quit”
truly capture an anxious moment. Such contrasting senses with memories that draw me closer, yet wanting to draw further away. I think this is why I don’t want to write, but this is like therapeutic experience for me. Thank you for sharing your moment.
Wireless Caller
Call from school — dread.
Incident
Blood
Please
Come!
Incident
Coach
Steps
Up.
Incident
Dreaded call from school.
©️Jennifer Kowaczek July 2023
Last fall, my daughter took a spill during cross country practice — her mouth met the asphalt, hard! I saw “Wireless Caller” on my phone and I ignored it, twice. Then my daughter’s name showed up.
All I knew before getting to her was that there was blood. What I saw when I got to the school: Coach and daughter covered in blood, ice pack held to her mouth. Thanks to her braces, the tooth was still in her mouth but it was pointing very much the wrong way. Her nose was bleeding but not broken.
My daughter was terrified so I had to stay calm. Inside, I was not calm. Once she knew the tooth would be okay, she focused on the cross country meet happening three days later.
Wow Jennifer! I don’t like getting calls like that. You never know to answer because it could be spam. Your short bursts of words sense urgency and your use of the word “dread” drives in the nail. And imagine having a meet in three days after just a traumatic experience!
Jennifer,
Scary story for both you and her! Your poem does a great job of conveying the terse urgency of the situation. Glad her tooth was okay!
Mike, Thank you so much for joining us in this space. I loved your introduction as you explained how you came to be a teacher in this challenging time. Your students are lucky you found your way to them.
I loved the prompt! (If anyone is counting syllables, I cheated once. Then I realized the “cheat” fit the theme of the poem. Love to you all– (P.S. the final line is a not to Anne Lamott.)
A pleasure of aging is release
of musts and shoulds. No longer do
I jump through others’ hoops.
Yet hoops bring energy
So I set my own
Run a 10k
learn Spanish
Shut up
Try
To
grow when
the body is
on its way out
is a challenge not
for the weak of spirit.
One must push past external
slights as well as scolding inner
voices: Keep the mice tight in the jar.
Allison, this is quite a read. I loved this line:
“No longer do
I jump through others’ hoops.
Yet hoops bring energy”
I feel like that when I try to please people. I don’t need to do it, but it rejuvenates me when I do. Torn! Thank you for sharing.
It’s been a wonderful five days of poetry writing! Thanks for today’s prompt, Mike – though your story of being 4th grade teacher without any training sent my anxiety spiraling, lol. Your line “A hole in my body falling in” was a great beginning to this tale of overwhelm.
I played around with the Fibonacci structure we were introduced to earlier this week –
back to present
I
slip
out of
my element
so easily, they should
name a slide name after anxious me
or perhaps a dance move, the ‘wild thoughts run amok’
what helps to soothe my mind is the 5-4-3-2-1
naming 5 things I see right now
4 things I can feel
3, I hear
2, smell
1,
taste
Maureen- I really like the flippant tone in the first stanza (a dance move, the “wild thoughts run amok” is wonderful!) and the switchover to a serious coping strategy.
Oh, Maureen, this is a lovely poem I will save it and PRACTICE it. I should also try it with my students. Your poems are serene and centered. I hope that means that writing poetry is a respite for you. Sending you this:
5) my computer screen, dark outlines of my hands on the keyboard, the outer rims of my glasses, red flashing lights (windmills) on the horizon, the porch railing.
4) my fingers on the keys, my rump on this chair, the breath through my nose, the blink of my eyelids
3) the crickets, I-80’s Doppler effect, tapdancing nails on the keyboard
2) gravel dust and corn tasselling
1) the day’s end
Maureen, I like how you inverted it, short at the beginning and end, and how that works to release when you get to “1, taste”. Thank you for joining in.
Maureen, this feels like bringing back to center, to ground ourselves. “they should
name a slide name after anxious me”-I feel like that when I’m out of my element, which is happening more and more. I guess it’s time for me to find more ways to soothe my mind. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Mike, for this thought-provoking prompt. Instantly, one event came to mind.
People from the island know the water and its ways,
But leave it to a statesider to presume to know as much.
Heedless, my prone and snorkeled form drifted from aqua to turquoise to periwinkle,
The sound of each augmented breath echoing in my ears.
Soon the vast strand of sand became alleyways between high rises of corral.
Damselfish made stops and starts amid the swaying seagrass.
Myopia made worse by goggles, the sea soon seemed
a thin barrier between the scratchy corral and my pale, soon sun-burned skin.
And so, a fish out of water, in water over my head, I called for help
And Liza led me back to safety.
Oh my! Vivid storytelling in your poem – I was worried for you. I love this foreshadowing line, and feel as if I am in the gorgeous water with you, “Heedless, my prone and snorkeled form drifted from aqua to turquoise to periwinkle”
I struggled thinking of a time to write about, so instead I’m writing about the last 3 days with my grandsons, who call me Mamo.
There is no tired
Like a Mamo tired on
Day three of loving
Oh, wonderful, Mo!! I know this tired feeling. Precious poem! Treasure this as a keepsake, somewhere special…perhaps with a sweet photo of those grandsons and you.
Mo! I love your poem. The last line is perfect as it drives home the all-out loving that grandparenting involves! Wishing you rest and treasures of memories. (I’m headed to NC on Friday for another dose of grandbaby!)
Thank you for the prompt that took me in a circle. When I graduated from college, I wanted to be an attorney; however, I met my husband and things changed. I landed up in insurance, which was the family “business” I wanted to avoid. The insurance company I worked for decided to close its doors, which changed my life. The structure was difficult, so this is a bit rough.
The company closing “shop” was the
impetus to explore what I
wanted to do with my life,
so with two kids under
three, I went back to
school because all
I wanted to
do was
teach,
and
twenty
years later,
I am standing
on the edge of an
empty nest wondering,
again, who I am supposed
to be because, now, I’m mother
of two adults who are flying free.
Heather,
This works so perfectly. The form matches with the content just right, and I really like the rhyme at the end. I’m assuming you tried to put it there, but if not . . . it works very well.
On a personal side note, it’s sure hard figuring out who you are after MOMing took must of your identity. It’s taken my a while, but I’m settling in and enjoying it for the most part.
Thank you, Susan. I needed to hear that.
The physical structure of this is like wings – you are getting ready to fly again! I know this feeling. We are blessed to have so many wonderful transitions in our lives.
First, I admire how neatly your poem flies—and how it enriches the flight metaphor in the second “wing”. Enjoy your freedom to fly!,
Wow! You say so much in just a few words and the structure adds to the meaning. Clever!
Heather, I love your poem. It is honest and so true to the reality that LIFE changes our paths, hopes, directions, and re-directions. I love how you captured YOURSELF at the edge of the empty nest–ready to fly (but of course unsure). I’m rooting for you!
Heather, thank you for sharing. I always hate the interview question of “where do you see yourself in five years?” Well, I’ve never gotten it right so why should I answer now. We all take a different path than we thought we would. But your poem shows how that doesn’t matter because you end up where you are supposed to.
Michael, great poem! I agree with many of the comments here, it is great to revisit a scary moment in the past and look how far you’ve come since then. When my husband and I packed up our family and moved to West Michigan I had big dreams, but boy, oh boy, was I scared, anxious, and too often overwhelmed to leave everything and everybody I knew. The process was scary but 7 years after THE MOVE we are still doing okay.
Did we do the right thing, it’s too much
Opportunities are greater
Relationships are further
Money is better here
How will the kids deal
friends will visit
relax dear
deep breath
go
stop
oh my
I told you
it’s fantastic
more than you dreamt of
look what we achieved now
diplomas, degrees, income
dreams are coming true for us all
the sky is the limit, keep going
It is hard to leave our comfort zone. This visual structure of the poem fits the emotions you describe so well. I feel at the end you have, indeed, taken off for the sky.
Beautiful! The first stanza, I can ‘feel’ the fear and worry about the unknown – and then, with the second, you come full circle with joy and hope, lots of good things happening.
I write a lot about teaching, so I thought I’d go back in time to when I learned to river kayak. Though I haven’t been able to do it in years, I loved it.
I’m not the best swimmer in the world
but entranced by gliding kayaks
on the rivers near my town,
a community class
gave me pool training
before hitting
a river
in a
boat
my
balance
was better
than expected
and I floated past
the other kayaks and
didn’t flip until near the
end–saved by a coach–but happy
on the water under the hot sun
Cara, what a great shape to this poem. It’s kind of like a flipped kayak on top and then a corrected kayak on the bottom. I like how you embraced the fear and the flip. It’s a reminder to do hard things!
I can feel the angst in your poem. Kayaking is something I would love to do again. I have not done it in decades.
Michael, I really like the form you chose to demonstrate that anxious feeling and then the resolve. I love the “do what you can” mantra in the last line. A good reminder for me.
A Semester Abroad
It’s two AM, and I am alone
(besides the two lingering cats).
Luggage is put away, but
jet lag keeps me awake.
This is my new home.
That’s when I sob
for my mom
like a
child
what
am I
doing here?
The night guard can’t
(or won’t) speak English,
so I shower and cry
until the sun’s gentle rays
shake me awake. The two cats purr,
greeting me for this new adventure.
Rachelle— the shift from nighttime anxiety to morning acceptance was really effective. I’m glad you had your cats!!
Rachelle,
You really capture the emotion of being on your own and feeling all the feels. Thank goodness for friendly cats welcoming you! Well done.
Cats can be very comforting. I can feel your homesickness. When I moved away from my parents, I sobbed the 2.5 hour car ride.
Thank you for the prompt. It helped me look at a time I was extremely anxious and out of my element as a parent. I needed to share with my children that a dear family member had been diagnosed with cancer. I will just say that at the end of the conversation love could definitely be felt.
What words do I even use to reveal this
to my darlings who have no idea that
it is coming to rock their world.
Your whole lives I have protected
Now I will unfortunately deliver
anxiety, worry, uncertainty, sadness
not the purpose
of parental
love
Aiming
to model
honest emotions that
rise during challenging times
so you can freely express
yours without fear of showing vulnerability
Carefully selecting words I never dreamed saying
Hoping to relay strength, promise, faith, and hope
Especially, my love that will forever wrap around you.
Thank you for sharing this heartbreaking moment with us. Your words, “aiming/ to model / honest emotions” gives me confidence that you’re a great parent. Life throws us curveballs, and your children are better prepared to tackle them because of your modeling.
Thank you for the kind words. hope my modeling helps them through.
You were the one to “deliver anxiety, worry, uncertainty, sadness”, but it was filling you, too. “Showing vulnerability”. Thank you for sharing this with us.
Cathy, your words are so moving and real that I have tears in my eyes. I am afraid I may have to look back to this poem soon as a dear family friend is ill.
So sorry to hear that your friend is ill. I had tears while writing this.
Michael- so glad you made it!! There were so many tough and thrilling and vivid moments that first year, eh? I felt the magic in your poem of the start of something surprisingly meaningful to you. Thanks for the invitation!
First Night Home
you were just born: no one felt right in
their raw skin. no clothes fit though they
were soft as your howl was hard
and hungry. we wept for
how clueless we felt
with wild newness.
wobbly legged
swirling
night.
but
dawn broke
the dark spell.
a bowl of oats
two buttery eggs,
raggedy breathing sleep,
the simple lines of the face
at rest. they let us take this sweet
smiling-alien-fish home. He sighs.
Emily,
I so appreciate how these two nonets work to signal a shift in tone, a discovery in the discomfort. “but/dawn broke” and the “dark spell” becomes tangible moments that are familiar offering possibilities of comfort in the “buttery eggs” and then “simple lines of the face.”
Thank you,
Sarah
Emily, I really did sigh with relief at the stanza break. You were able to portray the contrasting tones so effectively with your specific word choices in each. I giggled at this description, “sweet / smiling-alien-fish”. Thank you for sharing!
Hi, Mike! I loved your prompt — and your poem! Loved the alliteration, rhyme: your words set a vivid mood. And I have to say congratulations on your new job, and welcome to the profession! It’s a great one!
Twenty and the heady rush of love
Shush of falls and great Niagara
Was the time I almost drowned
Awash in emotion
Great flood of feeling
Feet together
1-2-3
Jump in
Fall.
Wendy,
Love that phrase “Shush of falls” but the contrast to “I almost drowned” was startling in the jump and Fall. There is a paradox in love.
Sarah
Mike, what a story of going into the classroom of fourth graders like you did with your “buried fear” and “always kindness.” Precious! I followed your form today for mine, during a time I felt so unprepared and fell so short.
Disclaimer: I do want to make it clear that my daughter asked me if I wanted to speak. She would have been fine if I had said “no, let Dad”–but in the moment…yikes!
Don’t hand me the microphone, I thought.
You’re doing fine for both of us.
When did the mom of the bride
have to start talking at
wedding receptions?
What do I say?
I should’ve thought!
Ready?
No.
Dumb
Quiet
Finally
I spewed a few
words I don’t recall
The important thing is
our precious couple’s ready
for life together. Now, let’s eat
and laugh and play and dance and dream hope.
Denise, congrats! You overcame the fear! And congrats to the new family! This did use the form just like mine and released the tension at the end, to “dream hope”.
Denise,
So love this arc in the plot toward the “Finally” and the “spewed” that lived through the discomfort. I get that “I don’t recall” of the words as the lines “our precious couple” show who the spewing was really for and the means to “let’s eat.” Perfect.
Sarah
Oh man! That will be me. I am not sure I could cough out anything coherent. Your words brought along that emotional experience.
In pain I look down, It is broken
My arm, once strong, now black and blue
Sharp pain runs through my arm, instant shock
After panic, I remind myself
For this is just a minor setback
Nothing I can not overcome strong
Courageous spirit enters my mind
Through grit and will, I shall prevail strong
Through healing’s path, I will be secure
Michael, ouch! That first stanza really captures the pain and severity of your broken arm. And your mental strength throughout the rest of the poem is inspiring.
Thank you. This poem is visceral for me. I broke an arm in half when I was younger. And yes, I remember not physically feeling any pain, but the fear of seeing yourself broken is overwhelming, shocking. “Through grit and will”.
Do you know what really bothers me really
makes me anxious like super anxious
it is writing lines of poetry that are this long
and also not using any punctuation either but primarily
it is the length thing I mean who does that who writes lines this long
[Quick check:
apparently a lot
of poets,
I mean,
have you
ever read
any Whitman?
He has lines
that are
oftentimes
quite
beautiful,
electric
even,
lines that
are so
long
they
just
don’t
quit.
Is it just me
or does that
sound
like some
weird poetic
pick-up line?
Are you tired?
Because your
trochaic pentameter
has been runnin’
through my mind
all day long.
Just me, then?
Ok, let’s get back
to this poem.]
So I would rather not court disaster or borrow trouble
or use whatever phrase you would like to signify that we
are at the event horizon and there is no going back
the wolves are at the door you know so why focus on them
[Look, it works
because it’s a
take on that
cheesy
pick-up
line that
you’ve been
running
through
my mind
but instead of
legs, I shifted
to lines
the lines of
the poem?
And “trochee”
is Greek for
“running” so
ok, nevermind]
What I am saying is that I would rather enjoy the day
open the blinds and let the sun cascade through the
soft floating dust of my office
[without
stopping
to realize
that dust
is just skin
cells that
have
shuffled
off this
mortal
coil]
And take a deep breath
[inhaling
all those
dead parts
of myself
Gross]
And enjoy the day
[after
doing
some
light
dusting]
_______________________________________________________
Mike, thank you for your mentor poem and your prompt today! When you said your “first day was one of the most anxious, bizarre, overwhelming, but kinda satisfying experiences [you] had ever gone through,” I just smiled. Yep. It’s like that. Again and again and again. Lol.
Gaw … you had me cracking up as I was scrolling down …
Kevin
Thanks Scott for the delightful poem. I forget sometimes what dust really is 😬 when I see it. These lines inspired me the most, “What I am saying is that I would rather enjoy the day open the blinds and let the sun cascade through the
soft floating dust of my office”
Thus summer, that’s what I’ve been doing a lot of. Your words made me smile.
The interior of your mind must have so very many doorways, so many hallways, my friend. Do you ever get lost? I chuckled at so many of your branches into randomness today. As always, you pulled them back together! Skin cells???????
Oh, Scott, bravo! I love your short and long lines! (Your short lines do certainly take up more space than Whitman.) I love the ending with the parentheticals about the skin(!) you are breathing! I think I’ll go do some light dusting.
Scott, entertaining, as always! Loved this.
Wonderful! Anxiety captured in the intermediate thoughts swirling in between the thoughts about anxiety. That’s how I read it, anyway. And fun, too.
I mean- any time you can play and make me think, I’m in!! I love the dead skin cells and the lines running through- just clever and fun and delightful!!
Hi Mike and thanks for a great close to our Open Write and thanks to all of our other phenomenal leaders this week!
I started teaching right out of UCLA in 1985 with ZERO experience in elementary ed. I was the school’s “pool teacher” meaning that I floated around as a campus substitute or sat in classrooms to observe the experts. My first day they threw me in without a rope or life preserver…FIRST GRADERS WHO DIDN’T SPEAK ENGLISH. I had no idea what to do. I didn’t even know they needed to line up to go in the room and I spoke very little Spanish. I must agree that student teaching is helpful, but it’s not the only way to become an outstanding educator. You got this, Mike! You survived year one! Hang in there.
I love the alliteration and angst you crafted here:
Here is my untitled nonet.
The process server rang the doorbell.
Late night unplanned visitor,
I watch from the camera.
Door opens, “You’ve been served.”
Door closes, I gasp.
He had no clue
I was done.
Divorce?
Yes!
Yes,
divorced!
Free to be
myself, fearless.
Door closed on chaos.
Prioritize self-care!
Repair my heart’s cracks & holes.
Focus on joy, seek peace within.
Grateful I have no regrets today.
ⓒStacey L. Joy, July 19, 2023
“Focus on joy, seek peace within”
Indeed, and hopefully, always …
Kevin
This double Nonet form maches your strength so well. As you gain strength and freedom the lines grow as well.
Stacey,
I love how your nonet and inverted nonet have that fulcrum point of the key change . . . divorce. Your second part reveals such positivity and happiness as a result.
Stacey, I love that last line. It is good news! “myself, fearless” on the line together is my favorite.
Stacey, grateful for your poem, and happy that your load has been lightened!
Oh, Stacey.
What a relief in that middle “Yes,” and the comma welcomes the exhale to “divorced!” Such freedom in the “Repair” and “focus on joy”! Indeed, “no regrets today” in part because it brought up this in credible nonet duo!
Hugs,
Sarah
From fear to joy. A huge transition. Good for you!
Stacey, thank you for the support. And thank you for sharing here today. The “door closed on chaos”. How relieving to break out from what’s holding you back. Your words move freely through the second half.
Stacey, the nonet form makes the separation of divorce more profound. “Free to be/myself, fearless” makes clear that the separation is between your freed and fearless self and the chaos you closed the door on. Thank you for sharing this.
Thanks Mike for your lovely poem, inspiration, and chance to reflect.
Newlyweds, the wedding was a month prior
a few friends coming over for dinner
eager to impress and please, I was.
Being a medium-level cook
Fried shrimp and rice, salad, dessert
should be easy as pie…..
It was 95 degrees though
didn’t have a fan or AC
most of the ice melted
nasty flies were everywhere
seeking shade
screens were missing
from kitchen windows
Eventually dinner was completed.
however spicy shrimp and
frying fish on a
sweltering evening
wasn’t the best idea,
I realized mid-chew.
Later, an insignificant
spat in front of friends
didn’t benefit the evening
either.
Take-aways
-check the weather
-consider picking up take-out
-don’t criticize your spouse
in front of folks.
Seana Hurd Wright
July 19, 2023
Hi Seana,
Lord knows, I made that mistake before as a young newly married woman. I had no idea his ego was so fragile. LOL.
I love how quickly you pulled me in, seeing everything, and feeling that heat!
I hope you enjoy the last weeks of our too-short summer!
🫶🏽
Seana, great job explaining your newlywed dinner party. Wow. Your sensory details helps us go right there with you.
Seana, thank you for sharing. The best laid plans of wives and men? Reading this made me relive a lot of similar moments.
Seana, I really enjoyed this! You have such vivid details here. I can totally feel the heat from the “95 degrees” to the “spicy shrimp” to the “insignificant / spat.” Thank you for sharing this dinner with us!
Thank you for the prompt, Mike. I’m glad we got to learn as a group of educators coming in with different backgrounds and levels of experience. Good luck with your next first day next month!
My poem is about the night before I flew from Detroit to the East Coast for college, only knowing small town Michigan.
I built a wall with pillows
between me and my mother,
not grateful enough for the hours
she drove me. Crazy with worry,
not grateful enough that she fixed
the problem with my flight tomorrow
that had been my fault.
I explained to her what I’d do
if I had to drop out,
how I’d just run away to Idaho
and marry a farmer.
She laughed; I didn’t.
She said I was smart,
I said high school was a joke.
She said I’d figure it out,
I asked what if I don’t.
I got on my new flight without knowing.
I felt the difference between
living through hard things
and choosing them.
These lines spoke to me… I felt the difference between
living through hard things
and choosing them.
Shelby–that phrase–built a wall with pillows–so much to tease out there–I’ll be working through that choice for a while-so apt. Your retrospective gratitude–I think back to so many things i took for granted, and that my children have taken for granted. It is only later that we realize this. I hope you have shared this poem with her. It is wonderful!
Wow, Shelby, what a great poem and a wise mother who helped you through this, even if you didn’t realize it at the time. This is my favorite stanza with that joke/don’t near rhyme:
Shelby, this is reflective of the majority of teen choices, I think. As teens, we know what we want and have no idea how awful our wants are. I love how you knew what you would do, one way or another. These lines really resonated with me:
Footsteps
Eighth graders
Walk into classroom
I’m only eighteen myself.
My heart pounds, stomach churns
But deep desire lifts my spirits,
With courage and confidence, I welcome students
and somehow begin a long, wonderful teaching career.
Hi Rita!
As someone who just completed their first year of long term subbing and about to embark on the first year of full time teaching, it brings me great relief to see that things do settle down and courage/confidence grows. Just like it did for you it seems, I find myself growing stronger every day, just like the format and lines in your poem! Thank you for this re-assurance!
Wow! 18! That was something. I love “deep desire lifts my spirits” and “with courage and confidence” and then that word “somehow” at the end makes us (and maybe you as you wrote it) realize that yours wasn’t a guaranteed outcome with that early start.
i Taught for 33 non-consecutive years, and was an at-home mom of five for 18 years in the middle. Hang in there! If you love teaching, it will love you back.
Ah! Your poem reminds me of my first job! Teaching 8th graders! What a challenging crew. At that time in that district, students only moved on to high school if they were on grade level, somI had 12-16 year olds in the same class! We made it! With the help of the Lord and a steady mentor across the hall all of them passed that year! MThey left. I stayed. 🙂
Mike,
That is so cool that you took a risk like you did…what an affirming move as an individual as careers go. My guess is the years ahead won’t compare to the one you just had as tumults go! Thanks for the prompt. The structured controlling syllable formats really make me think a bit more as technical positioning goes. I’ve gone without a title for this attempt, as I think I may have to revisit it later to do it justice.
Wonderful fear, wonderful blessing
this threshold starts with willingness,
sunlight as Friar Lawrence
sanctifies through the pane,
the clock staccato
our hurried calm,
moving close
breathe in…
touch.
Rex, your poem is intriguing. I love “the clock staccato” — the way it sounds and the possible meanings.
Ohhh, Rex, this is sensual and enjoyable! I feel the tension/fear as well as the excitement/blessing! I love it.
Perfect choice in hurried calm!
Thank you, Rex. As others have pointed out the line about “our hurried calm” is a great choice as it’s nearly impossible without tension. I don’t know what all of the details are here, but it slows down in time to a breathe and finally a touch.
Rex, your opening line expresses so well most of our first times up front! Whether at bat or at the board. Thanks for evoking those mixed memories. We respect your willingness to to do so.
Michael, Welcome to one of the most gratifying professional careers. As long as you keep in mind that you’re teaching students, not just studies, you’ll be just fine. And, stay in touch with us here on OPENWRITE. You’ll receive the collegial support that keeps so many of us going, going, going. Your prompt reminded me of my first day teaching high school!
Inspired, Not Fired
Walking into the classroom
Wearing spiky brown heels
Hoping I look more confident
Than my rolling tummy feels.
Just three months earlier, I’d birthed my first child
But had college expenses to repay
So I returned to the classroom that day.
Wow, was this going to be wild?
I was only twenty-three.
The students were nearly as old as me.
Seniors restless in their seats
Wondering if this was a teacher they could beat.
They didn’t that year, so we ended it just fine.
Stoked about teaching, I remained till I retired
Enjoying the challenge, I sometimes teach online.
No longer in spiked heels, but equally wired.
Anna, these poems offer such insight into who we were once upon a time and how we became the us we are now. I can visualize all of what you describe (and love that picture of your spiky brown heels). That feeling of hoping for more confidence than your tummy’s reaction is relatable! Powering through – you rock!
I can relate. Nicely written and fun.
Ah…How well I can relate to this awesome poem. Mine is a similar experience. I love, “I was only twenty-three, the students were nearly as old as me. Great job and like you, I’m retired but still find ways to teach.
Anna, nice story of this early time to start teaching, with that three month old at home. I love this:
“rolling tummy” made me smile. Well done, good and faithful teacher!
Yes, Anna, I believe you are wired for teaching FOREVER!! Love the shoes and they remind me of my younger self wearing high heels everyday to work. If I did that now, I would be in the ER by recess!
Thank you for being such a dedicated educator!
Anna, thank you for the words of encouragement. And thank you for the words of poetry and sharing of your experience.
I’ve been vicariously experiencing Mo’s Africa trip through her photos on Facebook. I took a trip to Tanzania in 2016. I never slept on the safari because of my fears, but the sunrise…
Safari Sunrise
No matter when the sun rose,
I hadn’t slept anyway.
Fear plagued my restless soul:
Cape buffalo bounding- Swoosh! Swoosh!
Outside our dark tent,
hyena howls,
and where was the black mambo?
Under my bed?
No matter, the sun rose,
soothed me with orange light
spread wide and far…forever…
God’s savannah.
Guides were wide awake,
ready to drive the dirt roads
into the field of dreams
to Look Out Rock (after a thorough scan for King lion).
Breakfast on the rocks,
sitting like Masai
friends singing, swaying,
welcoming a new day.
Margaret, I can imagine how difficult it would be to sleep on a safari! The black mambo fears would have done it for me. Love this glimpse into your trip with all the sounds and sights and that expansive sunrise. I’ve been following Mo too and marveled at all she’s seen (and wondered if I’d have been able to do the same!).
I love, “No matter, the sun rose.” I like how I can see both sides of nature as an unstoppable force–the fear of it getting to you in the night and the comfort of relying on it for the morning.
Wow, you took a stressful part of your trip and turned it into a beautiful adventure. I love all the details you added of the animals and the beauty around you and that sunrise theme throughout. A new day is always welcome. Beautiful.
Wow, Margaret, such a beautiful poem yet I feel your angst about sleeping! This is true beauty:
Margaret, your repetition of “the sun rose” inspires hope despite the dark and scary night. If only we can remember this on savannah or in the states.
Margaret, thank you for sharing. I’ll check out the invitation to the photo prompt earlier. Out of the fear of sleeping something good came of it, you got to see the largest sunrise! A reader can feel the line “soothed me with orange light.”
Traveling to Australia… With High Schoolers
Australia
Here we come!
Who’s in charge?
How did this
happen? Me,
leading them.
I don’t know!
It’s all good,
we’ll be fine.
©️Jennifer Kowaczek July 2023
Michael, thank you for today’s prompt. My dad made the same choice as you — after 23 years in corporate America, he chose to get a teaching degree.
For my poem today, I went back to 2004. It was my second year traveling with People to People as a teacher leader for high schoolers visiting other countries. We were going to Australia (bucket list location for me). At the last minute my friend, and the lead on this trip, stepped away from her role. I had to step up as coordinator and I was terrified! There was some much to coordinate and I was in the middle of a move. Important stuff was not getting forwarded to me. I was a mess. But I’m the end, everyone made it there AND back; we had a great time; one serious infraction occurred two nights before our scheduled flight home — timing meant I didn’t need to arrange early flights home but I did need to make a few hard phone calls home.
I forgot to include my form choice.
I used the Tricube form —
3 stanzas
3 lines each
3 syllables per line
Easy! Right?
Not always 😂
Jennifer, the simplicity of the form (always harder to write these) works so well to convey your idea – that last stanza of convincing yourself it will all be fine so precisely in just 9 syllables feels like exactly what you’d do to dismiss the worries and reassure yourself – nope, nope, all good here. That’s an amazing trip and role you stepped into.
It is refreshing to know we are all in the same boat. THe boat of who let me be in charge!
I really like this format you selected and plan to utilize it myself in the future! It was nice to see we are not all alone and crazy situations like this can happen to everyone! I’m glad it all worked out for you!
Mike I know your fear! I was a career changer, and two months in to my substituting, “owned” a class. This is so real–
“Who let me do this
How do I start
Pretend now”
And it worked, didn’t it? Congratulations on a new career and an awesome prompt. You will appreciate the career you have chosen if you have the luck I had. Twenty-seven years after that first “how do I start”, I regretfully retired. Best of luck to you, and thank you for the prompt. Mine is a double-nonet/etheree, I guess. Nothing like overkill…
How to Lose a Boy
June. HOT. Three kids, one eight and two fives.
No AC. Fights, spats rule the day.
Red-haired five-boy does me in…
THOMAS! TO YOUR ROOM! NOW!
At long last…peace. Silence.
Sit down, breathe, reflect.
Time slides by;
Then…
An hour!
Where is he?
An empty room.
No one there. Under the
bed? No. Not anywhere.
Search the house. Nowhere. “Thomas!!??”.
No reply. Only my fear. Only
my love. Only my guilt. What have I done?
I’m not a bad mom. Just a tired one.
Search again. Call his name once more.
Louder. Nothing. Tears loom. Dread.
Call the cops? What will I say?
Hey-I lost my son? If they
ask what he’s dressed in,
I don’t even know—
red shirt? Blue shorts?
Two hours gone–
what kind
of mom
am I?
What will I
tell them? I
was just so tired.
It was just so hot.
I was just…no excuse…
No excuse at all.
Then–his room–check the closet–
A lump on the floor, Not just clothes!
A red-haired boy naps underneath
Red-faced and hot, but fine. Found at last.
Found at last. Found.
Hug him, hug him, hug him.
GJSands
7/19/23
Gayle, thank you for your poem today.
You describe every parent’s fear. In my case, the disappearance occurred when my child decided to play in the neighbor’s backyard but told no one 🤦🏻♀️
Thank you for putting that fear into words in a way I never could.
Jennifer
Gayle, this poem breathes with you, the in’s and out’s, the rise and fall, the wavering of feelings see-sawing back and forth between your worry and wonder. And the form is the perfect shape for that. I felt this. Every minute. I was worrying right along, and breathing right along, with you. Nothing could be more of a worry than wondering what happened to your child.
I love how you sandwiched love in “Only my fear. Only my love. Only my guilt.” Love sure is part of guilt and fear. Thank you for taking me on this rollercoaster, which felt so much longer than I’m sure it really lasted.
Thank you for sharing Gayle. This worked beautifully as the tension, the guilt and anxiety, builds and then releases.
Gayle, I love your repetition at the end: “Found at last. / Found at last. Found. / Hug him, hug him, hug him.” Your short, clipped lines ratchet up the anxiety of your speaker (and your reader!) throughout your poem! You’ve tapped into something so relatable here. Although I’m not a parent, I have a similar experience (of the flip-side) of your poem. I’m the third child (of three) and I don’t remember the circumstances of the “fight,” but I do remember that my brother (the eldest) pushed me down onto a huge pile of stuffed animals – they were our sister’s, we must have been in her room – and then he stormed out. Later, they couldn’t find me. They looked all through the house. Apparently, I had burrowed further into the pile of stuffed animals, and that’s where they found me: tear-streaked (but, I guess, warm and content) and fast asleep. (And since this happened just last week, I’d rather not talk about it…. 🙂
I’m sure you feel better for sharing…I won’t tell anyone!🫣
Oh, Gayle, how cute is this! I remember “running away” to my closet as a little girl. I came out when I smelled dinner! 🤣
You’ve captured a mom’s emotions perfectly! I can’t imagine how frightened you must have been. I would love to know what Thomas says about this memory today.
Thanks for this treat!
Gayle, I felt your fear and regret and relief all throughout. Those mom moments like these stay indelibly etched in the memories, don’t they? I’m so glad you wrote this – – and I’m glad you’re both okay!
Gayle, thank you for sharing. The panic is so real when a child goes missing only to find “a red-haired boy naps underneath.” Would that this were a one-time event, but then comes going to school, learning to drive, graduating high school. It never ends.
Anxious, terrified, and excited.
Happy to meet this little one
after an uphill battle,
necessary effort,
and a little pain.
A lot of pain.
All worth it.
All for
you.
K, I love that you are writing about this at this moment and in this space. I appreciate the phrase “uphill battle” as you move down this poem. Thank you for sharing.
I love the emotion behind you poem. The form you chose is so perfect.
Thank you for sharing your heart with us.
Jennifer
K,
I like the change from a little pain to a lot of pain. Sorta captures how a mother will downplay discomfort for a child in their memory. What a neat poem to sneak on to the graduation party table when your little one graduates.
Thank you for this window. I can’t imagine how much anxiety and fear there would be in that moment. Your poem releases the emotion softly at the end.
K, all of the feels are here – emotions and physical pain and then the feelings of worth it! All of those feelings lead up to the greatest moment!
Mike, thank you for hosting us today and sharing this experience with us. Your note about a “breath” while reading your poem is lovely in itself. I decided to go a bit light-hearted today.
she called me Grace
she thought she was funny
bam! walked into a pole
egg in the center of my forward
rah! slipped in the endzone
red-cheeks of embarrassment
slice! wakeboard across the shin
treading water in pain
swoop! chairlift to hip at the bend
tangled skies and laughter
her nickname is validated
ouch!
Stefani — I can picture this experience so clearly. Your use of onomatopoeia works so well here; each perfectly placed to draw the picture for your readers.
Thank you!
jennifer
Stefani, your effective use of onomatopoeia really makes your experience come alive for us. Sorry for experience; glad to read how well you revived it with carefully chosen words.
They work!
For Aquinas
—thank you for writing with us
For us, too, there was a wish of teacher
Something beyond or exactly like our own
we once knew or wish we knew
Even beyond our capacity to imagine our teacher
In which we might meet ourselves for the first time; and this desire
Came always in motion, in film scenes with poetic desk
speeches or some culminating opus or sunlit fist pump,
Yet scripts from the past, when they lived in our classrooms
Played out not as we imagined, but with adlib and silences
Among true gunshots and opaque victories;
And never once did we feel we were enough, able, ready
Until the fluorescent lights said, “Why do this,
Especially now? Go back to your soliloquy;”
And there appeared, with inked hands, a gathering of youth;
And we dropped to one knee to witness a new script,
a poem, then another; lines and stanzas emerged from
Silenced tongues, floating into the scene;
And we would have reached for the letters
And gathered them up to fortify tomorrow
And stepped into the soundtrack hearing our opus,
But we took a seat beside and wrote a poem, too
And met ourselves for the first time.
That was our teacher.
Sarah, what a beautifully, dark poem. There is so much to unpack and interpret, I pulled out different elements as I re-read it a few times. The lines that twist the fate of your poem for me are “…adlib and silences/among true gunshots…” Thank you for sharing these words with us today and always welcoming everyone to this community you have created 💙
Sarah–so much here, about the writing process and poetry and fear, but the last lines–But “we took a seat beside and wrote a poem, too/And met ourselves for the first time” are so perfect for what you have helped us do every month. Thank you.
Sarah,
I loved the epiphany moment, But we took a seat beside and wrote a poem, too
And met ourselves for the first time.
What I really like about your effort is that I can revisit it, and probably get something new each time. It has the ability to morph depending on the reader and the where they are at when reading. Today I can’t get away from a visual at the end of The Breakfast Club, when Bender is on the football field.
I like how it could be a tribute for so many. It could be the teacher, the student, the class from four years ago. It has lots of options.
Sometimes we get what we wanted, we just don’t realize it. Our expectations were too defined. Your words bring very vivid images to my mind. There is a lot in this verse. Thank you.
Sarah, what a lovely tribute to one who so inspires writing and poetry and knowing self and world through words and swatches of thought. This feels like a solo that becomes a duet, then a trio and a quartet and a chorus and a choir and a symphony…..yes, I see the opus! How incredible!
Sarah, your words inspire me at a time when the back to school nightmares start up.
“But we took a seat beside and wrote a poem, too
And met ourselves for the first time.
That was our teacher.”
Thank you!
Katrina! I just had my first back-to-school nightmare last week. Isn’t it sort of wonderful how our psyche gets rid of the anxiety in this way? (That’s how I always look at these dreams because if I embrace them and take them as real, my anxiety is fed.)
And yes, these lines of Sarah’s. Oh, it makes me grateful to be alive and to have the opportunity to be reintroduced to myself and the world outside of myself time and time again when I stop and take a “seat beside.” Beautiful.
Michael, I feel bravery in your poem, that deep breath that helps us persevere in a new situation. I love the effect of separating heart from beats. It does give the pause you were after.
I’ll be back to post a poem.
Here is another invitation, a photo prompt I host each week on Wednesday. This week I feature our own Mo Daley’s photo of zebras in Kenya. All are invited to write. https://reflectionsontheteche.com/2023/07/19/this-photo-wants-to-be-a-poem-africa/
Thank you Michael for hosting! It has been wonderful to have you as a classmate. If you are not at WMO and say hello, remember to just be yourself when you are teaching. You don’t have to know it all, and mistakes are fine, just keep making those connections and be yourself.
A Good Morning
sunshine, bird’s singing, dew on the grass
rumbling, empty, flowboy bottoms
beeping loader, fog from pond
high on the mountain top
my HardyWoods Home
out in the sticks
not a hick
brilliant
kind
Emily,
What wonderful images of the first line to encourage me to turn to the dew upon the grass outside my window — and then also notice the internet company carving out the grass to lay fiber. Ugh. Okay, back to your poem — yes the rumbling. And then I did not know this word “flowboy bottoms” but love that I do now. Some fun assonance with the “ick” throughout that just made this a vivid sonorous poem. Love it.
Sarah
Flowboy bottoms are trailers for hauling gravel and asphalt, they have a conveyor belt in the bottom that brings the material out quickly. They make it easier for the drivers to get more runs in a day. They are pretty stainless steel and ‘V-shaped. I monitor my family’s gravel pit. I love heavy equipment too, its fascinating to me.
Emily, I love the way you paint this picture of a cute (“not a hick”) home in the country. You build it up to be so beautiful. Thanks for sharing!
Emily–these lines say so much more than six words would offer–“out in the sticks/not a hick”. As a former “not a hick”, I remember feeling the need to defend my lifestyle. Yours sounds lovely!!
It is a constant battle, sometimes I enjoy letting people do and say what they will and then show my abilities modestly of course.
Emily, yes to all! The sunshine and birds, the dewy grass and the mountaintop – – out in the woods. My favorite things.
Mike – first, I applaud your courage in going into the field; these are desperate times and call for desperate measures by districts…many good people are out there and the kids need every one. So much more to say about that but let me also applaud this poem: form is a tricky thing, yet you have harnessed it magnificently here. The descending/ascending lines are perfect for the bursts of thought, for the glimpsing of images in the fast-paced, breathtaking adventure of teaching. I will be cheering you on (and praying for all of us) as the new school year gets underway.
Let me also thank you for this specific invitation about writing to a time we were out of our element. Thank you also for the gentle guardrail of it not having to be “a bad time”. A humorous situation might work perfectly here…but within us are stories untold, poems always in the composing, and I think maybe now I will let just a little bit of mine leak out. I’m not sure I’ll ever write it all. Again – many thanks and much strength to you in this new arena of “doing what you can” and not looking back!
Our Ungluing
How did it happen
addiction out of control
unslakable thirst
driving destruction
of family, pulling us
into the vortex
you might expect this
of a troubled young person
you do not expect
to come face to face
with your parents’ own demons
after you are grown
it is a horror
her face set in denial
his codependence
dulling his sad eyes
-how did we get to this place
where we don’t know her
the iron was there
long before my existence
latent in her soul
how did I become
the mediator, as if
talking to children
I cannot do it
without rage that further sets
her defiant mask
he listens, nodding
says maybe a hypnotist
can be of some help?
Are you serious?
There are no easy fixes
for this wrecking train
and in two more months
his heart explodes, takes him out
leaving her unleashed
the sudden ending
of a long, slow beginning
of our ungluing
one cannot survive
for long, riding waves of rage
in turning the page
l go on, holding
to the good I remember
before it was gone
Thank you for the positive notes on my career choice, and thank you for sharing. This is very powerful. I feel for you and your family. I have a brother going through something similar who I haven’t seen in years as he avoids us all. It is hard to be there in what feels like their selfishness (“her defiant mask”), as they become someone you don’t know anymore. I hope the best for you.
Fran,
This is haunting and beautiful at once in the poem and addiction’s unraveling. There is an incredible sense of weave — that the speaker and her and he all bound together by generational hold “parents’ own demons” and perpetual “our ungluing.” Your closing feels like the only option which is at once hopeless and hopeful. Paradox.
Hugs,
Sarah
I feel love and rage here, and understandably so. Thanks for telling a story that is hard and important to you. I connected
to this feeling, you are not alone, though it may have felt that way. Beautiful use of form, too
Fran–my heart breaks for you. Such a burden–something you should never have to encounter–your father’s acceptance, false hope, his death. Just too much. I hope you can hold on to the good bits, to help you the ungluing… (amazing where these prompts send us, isn’t it?). Good luck (and a poignant, honest poem from the heart)
“you do not expect
to come face to face
with your parents’ own demons
after you are grown”
Fran,
Sorry for the hell you went through. You lay it out so I really place myself there, and feel an uncomfortable level of torment with you. I like the stanza the sudden ending of a long, slow beginning of our ungluing. It captures the turn from the previous stanza, and really does something special in a paradoxical and tragic sense.
The last stanza is interesting to, as I feel like it is written as if it is a past happening, as if your going on isn’t going on anymore…
Fran,
So very powerful. It must not have been easy to go down that hole, but I tend to think our most powerful writing stems from our toughest times. And, it can help to put it out there, to help process, and maybe even begin healing.
The whole image of “ungluing” is perfect.
Hold onto the good! (Easier said than done, I know)
Fran, I am in awe of your ability to craft such gorgeous verse, those “g”s and “s”s of your last stanzas are wonderful and beautiful and tragic, too – “the sudden ending / of a long, slow beginning / of our ungluing / one cannot survive / for long, riding waves of rage / in turning the page / I go on, holding / to the good I remember / before it was gone.” So poignant and so well-crafted. You are so skilled at your craft. I mean, yesterday, I too wished that I could speak a “green language” to commune with the bluebirds – “oh the bluebirds” – and today I am witnessing this “ungluing.” SMH … unbelievable … so good! 🙂
Fran, you are wise beyond your years and it seems you have been for a very long time. The heartache is palpable here, the anger, the disbelief, the disappointment and rage, the loss, the turning of the page. And still, in your very perceptive way, you sort it out to the before and after and keep it in its place in your mind and in your memory and in your own life. I can’t help wondering how many children see themselves in you and just know that there is someone approachable, kind, understanding….knowing. And that they can trust. You wrote a powerful poem today!
Try It . . . You’ll Like It
I don’t push myself out of my comfort zone.
I just don’t.
People do fun or daring or new things.
I just don’t.
Except the time I did.
Ziplining.
Our whole crew.
I got all equipped
with a vest and a helmet and
straps going places
I didn’t think they needed to be.
I moseyed up to the platform
full of fear.
Not sure why I agreed to this
but I didn’t want our kids to think
I was absolutely no fun
(NF as my husband coded it).
And our oldest was starting
to be a total chicken shit
so I wanted to provide
a good role model for her.
I stood there
in full panic.
“I can’t do this”
I told the burly attendant.
“Ma’am, you have
no choice at this point.”
“You may have to just push me.”
“Awww, sweetheart, don’t go making
me do that.”
Certain the line would snap
or the equipment would fail . . .
I leaped.
I screamed.
In mortal terror
that quickly turned to
pure joy and delight.
I squealed like a child.
I felt like a child
experiencing something
for the first time.
The trees and the ground
whizzing past.
Flying
Fast
And
Absolutely
Loving
It.
I guess I’m not so
NF after all.
~Susan Ahlbrand
19 July 2023
Susan – a pure delight, this story-poem set up so perfectly with the opening about not taking risks until you did. The suspense builds masterfully, especially at the part where you can’t turn back…so glad you loved it and that we have this wonderful account!
Susan,
Love this adventure of ziplining and the way you use dialogue to bring us into that moment, that exact moment of being uncomfortable and the choice. I love the use of line breaks to show the line extending and freeing, maybe liberation toward “Loving/It”! Fantastic. And congrats.
Sarah
Susan- I truly relate!! I’m very fearful of heights and I even used to run a ropes course!! I LOVE how you captured the moment of going from terror to delight, and the relationships at play in the poem – the instructor, your family. Thanks for the zip trip!
This was such a fun read, Susan! Thank you for sharing! The anticipation you build up throughout the poem, up to the lines “that quickly turned to pure joy and delight.” was so very fun to read through. I could feel it in my chest as you described your own fear.
Susan–your poem makes me want to try this. They might have to push me, though–loved the attendant’s comment and the tone you gave him! So glad you decided to shed the NF label!
First, you are much more courageous than I am. So glad you loved it. As a mom, these lines spoke to me…And our oldest was starting
to be a total chicken shit
so I wanted to provide
a good role model for her.
Thank you for sharing this Susan! You’re story has inspired me to try ziplining in the future! I really liked how at the end you just listed off the emotions and thoughts of your feelings while flying down the line. It made me feel like I was on a roller coaster of excitement!
Nope, you are not NF, you’re cautiously adventuring. That zipline thing is still on my list for one day, but not today. You need to buy the Been There Done That t-shirt. And wear it often!
Mike, thank you for hosting us today, and to all our hosts this week – – thank you for investing in us as writers! As a fan of the short forms, the nonet is one of my favorites! Yours takes the shape of wings – – of being able to lift the anxiety and feel the wind beneath these wings. The feeling in the poem is strong and universal – – don’t look behind us!
Parallel to the Runway
Christ Church Cemetery plot shopping
My brother’s cell phone rang. “Hurry.”
We sped, cried, dodging traffic ~
Would we make it in time?
Each second mattered.
Through the front door
To her room
Three last
breaths
Kim, this absolutely builds tension the way Michael intended the nonet to do. From Christ Church Cemetary to three last breaths…I wanted to know why the hurry. Excellent, tight poem.
Kim, you made it. You were there at the last. Same thing occurred with my husband and his mother – he, his sister, and our youngest made it just in time. They are convinced she waited for them. That gripping line “every second mattered” is second only to “three last breaths.” Ending with that word breath makes me hear the sound of that last exhale. Beautiful rendering of a heat-rending moment, dear friend.
Kim,
That is a great poem title. Before reading your poem, I had all sorts of ideas about what the poem could be about, and then when I began reading, I thought of parallel and the body laid to rest, and then parallel as in getting to be alongside in the “Three last/breaths” and the runway toward the end but also the running toward to be alongside that the road and traffic was the runway. This nonet brought the reader, me, into this scene so quickly and with such movement that I felt the seconds ticking and a glimmer of the “cried”. So sorry for this loss and wishing you (or the speaker) some comfort in witnessing the “breaths”.
Hugs,
Sarah
“We sped, cried, dodging traffic” this line is a story right there. You made it. Every second counts- reminds me of the theme of the second season of The Bear.
Kim, you do a great job of building anticipation and tension from the first line to the last. It has a heavy kind of urgency that reflects the reality of the situation well, I’m sure. Thank you for sharing this, and I’m sorry for your loss.
Kim–the tension built, and the last lines brought me tears. I am so glad you made it in time, and I am so sorry for your loss. A moving poem…
Jeesh, Kim . . . you use the perfect form to create the tension of getting there before the those last breaths. You are so skilled.
Michael,
I am so impressed with your story. It’s been an interesting phenomenon to me that the long-term subs we have acquired out of thin air and the people in the transition to teaching program are predominantly men. I want someone to explore that. Men over 40. We have a retired Army lifer, a grandfather who formerly farmed who drives 30 minutes to sub, a former business exec who got tired of the rat race, etc. It’s so interesting to me. I guess part of the reason it impresses me so much is that I knew from birth practically that I wanted to be a teacher, and for someone to make that choice later in life fascinates me.
Your story . . . I just can’t imagine standing in front of an elementary class without ever having student taught. I get so very nervous at the start of school Every year. After 35 years. I can’t imagine how disorienting your experience must have been/be. Kudos to you. Teachers are so desperately needed and it is awesome that you answered the call. Those kids are dang lucky to have you.
I will get around to a poem now. I just had to praise you first.
I agree Susan. And, I’m overwhelmingly grateful for those that take to teaching the way that Michael describes. However, I’ve seen some ex-military nightmares. I hate that teaching is in this position.
Susan,
A military recruiter visiting my classroom one year announced his plans to “go into teaching after I retire from the military to supplement my income.” I was so disgusted by his cavalier remark and said, “Don’t. Teaching is a profession. It isn’t a temporary gig for many of us.” I said that i. front of my class and don’t regret it. I understand the teacher shortage and the desperation to put big bodies in front of students and slap the “teacher” label on them, but I don’t praise this paradigm shift from training and preparing professionals to rushing folks through minimalist programs and eschewing teaching practicums. I’m saddened by this. Those w/ no training create more work for their professional colleagues, and they almost always have classroom management problems, poor pedagogy, and leave after a year or two. Perhaps most importantly, they contribute to the de-professionalizing of teaching. Teaching is being destroyed, perhaps already has been, from the inside out. I’m not participating in this month’s poetry writing in part because I’m taking two classes costing me $1,200.00 to renew my license. I have to ask myself why I’m doing this as a retired educator when it literally no longer matters whether or not one has expertise, especially pedagogical knowledge. It’s rather ironic to study Teaching Gifted and Talented Learners and Coaching and Mentoring in the current climate. But that’s exactly what I’m doing. How foolish of me to think any of it matters.
Glenda,
It is maddening. And de-professionalizing our vocation does indeed feel like a hard slap in the face. Something has to change. Our state (Indiana) as of yesterday has 3,312 unfilled teaching vacancies. That’s an astounding numbers with just a few weeks until school resumes. I’m not at all a fan of people coming in without training, but what are schools to do?
I never really thought about paying to renew your license when others are getting a stamp with zero experience or knowledge.
I do believe if the heart is in the right place people waning to make a difference can.
Susan,
There’s an article in Education Week today in which the writer claims teachers lost skills during the pandemic. It’s based on interviews w/ 30 administrators who are making judgments about an entire profession based on their biased observations. It’s likely their lumping all the emergency hires in w/ experienced professionals. No teachers were interviewed for the Ed Week hit piece. In Idaho we need six credits related to our certification ever five years. After I finish the classes, I’ll have to pay the state another $75.00 to process my renewal. Teaching is a profession, not a vocation. It’s also not missionary work. Being a teacher is not a calling. We need to use language that treats our profession as though it’s a profession and not church work because that kind of service is something the general public and thinks does not merit compensation commiserate w/ other professions. Metaphors matter.
Mike
Thanks for the background and congrats on making it through, and taking the plunge. I enjoyed your poem, too, and as someone with a musical background, too, your prompt immediately brought up the memory underlying this poem.
Kevin
Why’d I ever said
yes, is anyone’s
guess, but there
I was, sax in hand,
a teenager on stage,
more than a little afraid,
joining a Portuguese
wedding band
The words, “Portuguese wedding band” make the whole poem shine. Wonderful!
Kevin, this is fantastic! I can see the furrowed brow diminishing as the music begins and the festivities lift everyone’s spirits. A Portugese wedding band.
Hilarious! “Why I’d ever said yes”… yikes. How often have we asked that of ourselves in life-? Your teenage self clearly endured (and no doubt learned a good bit!).
It takes so much courage to play on stage, and a wedding adds even more pressure. And your poetry has a nice flowing rhythm – like the music?
Hopefully something musical in the words …
Kevin, I adore this story of your first musical gig! Portuguese wedding band, really? Did you make this up?
Nope — all true
🙂
I had no idea of the songs or why they wanted me so I just played, and then they fired me after two gigs … gently …
Kevin
I can picture you in the cast of characters that is a wedding!! You paint the picture of anticipation, doubt, and excitement before a performance here!!
Kevin,
I have had a busy couple months with teaching that I have been waking to prep for class and not writing early until today, so I have missed you and thinking of your early morning writing on the east coast. How are you?
I love this first line and feel like it is its own prompt for us….The specifics are so universal in that “sax in hand” and “joining a Portuguese/wedding band” feel impossible and yes possible. Why and also Why not? Such a paradox of comfort zones. Appreciate learning this piece of your life that we get to puzzle together through your poetry!
Peace,
Sarah
Hi Sarah
Thank you for your kind words — I am OK, thank you. Sort of drenched with the recent rains … but starting to dry out here …
How are you?
I seem to have missed the June Open Write and part of the July — not sure how that happened …
Kevin
The poem was really good, but the scenario painted by the last two lines took it to a whole different level! I love this!
Thanks, Gayle
Delicious unfolding of a poem here, Kevin. There’s a sense of suspense to what you said yes to and then a delightful authenticity in not just a wedding band, but a Portuguese wedding band, no less. I love that a piece so small can be powerful, leaving me with a chuckle. Nice to be delighted!