Brittany Saulnier is a writer and former educator on a quest to inspire every reader to find their own connection to nature. This mission first took root from a love of animals but grew stronger as she worked as an environmental educator. Now as a storyteller for children, she is inspired by nature’s secrecy and often blends environmental science with whimsy. Her short stories have been long listed for The Voyage YA Anthology and received Honorable Mention in Writer’s Digest Annual Writing Competitions. She lives in Virginia with her husband, daughter, two rescue shepherd dogs and an adorably evil cat.
https://brittanysaulnier.weebly.com/
Inspiration
When I taught middle school science, I ended each lesson with a creative writing reflection prompt. During this time, students created comics, short stories, journal entries, persuasive posters or poetry. My only rule was that it had to show me what they had learned in class, but with some flare. For example, vocabulary words are used correctly but what would happen in a story about a superhero with photosynthetic powers?
I’m not the first teacher to use this method but I often write my own stories and poems as a blend of science with fantasy.
Today, write a poem inspired by science and perhaps, whimsy.
Process
The challenge is to ensure the reader can simultaneously glimpse the scientific concept you were inspired by and a universal truth.
If you are feeling stuck, you may try looking around your space for hidden science. Heat transfer from your coffee cup to your hand. Gas exchange between you and the houseplant. The physics and engineering of a table.
Read Whenever you see a tree by Padma Venkatraman for inspiration: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/155531/whenever-you-see-a-tree
Or start with the universal truth taking space in your mind today. Then brainstorm scientific phenomena that can serve to illuminate it.
Read Astronomy Lesson by Alan R. Shapiro for inspiration: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42682/astronomy-lesson
Brittany’s Poem
Her Moon by Brittany Saulnier
I can feel Earth spinning.
It’s faster than they say,
because they have never been burned by her tumultuous core,
like I have,
when we were once together.
They try to feel her spinning,
to get real still,
and stare as the clouds drift above,
and give themselves vertigo,
then blame it on her tilted axis.
She spins wildly.
But yet too slow for them,
to know her.
Others push, push, push,
against her limits,
begging to break away,
to reach the cold, dark chasm
that now keeps her and I apart.
I can feel the plants claw into her sides,
to keep from spinning off into space.
I understand the fear,
of losing her, too.
She spins wildly.
I try to not get left behind.
But, already, I’m a leftover,
a keepsake of her old rocks.
My heart,
bruised and cratered.
I can feel her spinning,
in my memories.
She keeps me close, enough.
Her gravity,
her force,
the life she cradles,
keeps me from floating away.
The pain is knowing,
she can feel the pull of mine,
just isn’t as affected.
If I can no longer feel her spinning,
us spinning as one,
then I’ll resign to spin next to her,
forever.
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.
Hey Brittany, this is such a fun prompt! I decided to go mix Found Poem with some romance for this one and used the article “Green Monster: NASA Releases Image Of Cataclysmic Supernova Explosion From 11,340 Years Ago” for inspiration.
Fireworks in Space!
You and I, a stellar explosion.
An explosion still young on the cosmic timescale,
Trying to explore this new love landscape,
examine the debris field and conduct a stellar autopsy.
Trying to make sense of the cosmic dust and the haze of
this supernova of feeling before it runs out of energy.
I’m late once again. A little behind but still sticking to my commitment to write a poem for each day in April.
I absolutely loved this prompt and the way it invited us to see the whimsy in science and the world around us. I loved Brittany’s poem, especially the movement and the way it reminds us how connected to Earth we really are. Here’s my contribution:
Microwave Ballet
My husband is an engineer
He understands how things work
In a way that I just
Never will.
I asked him once
(okay more than once)
To tell me how a microwave works
And I keep having to ask
Because as he talks,
I envision water molecules
In tutus and pointe shoes
Dancing
Plies and arabesques
Leaping and spinning
On the stage of my
Leftover broccoli cheese soup.
They move in time
To the countdown
Unconcerned that it will
Beep
Obnoxiously at any second.
Instead, they focus on the movement
The creation
Of art
And dance
And warmth
Hoping their audience
Feels as fulfilled in
The moment as they do.
That the watcher in the
Little window
Is as excited
And content as they are.
“Chea?” he asks
“Does that make sense?”
“Yup!” I say with confidence
As my head shakes dreamily
To the rhythm
Of Swan Lake
On my shoulders.
I wrote this while waiting (for way too long) at a doctor’s office this morning…
Nerves
Waiting
room dense with
sterile smells, sharp tools;
thin walls leak door shuts, whispers –
perhaps they make us wait to amp our symptoms
Oh whoops, posted this on yesterday’s page! I’ll move it to the right one.
I decided on a found poem format for this using the wiki article for Blood. I love the idea of combining poetry and other subjects!
”Blood”
Blood is
fluid nutrients
circulatory
venous darker
and arterial brighter —
but mostly water and
red iron
around the body
connecting family
ancestry or divinity.
Erica, nice idea. I like the “darker” and “brighter” line endings. And “connecting family / ancestry or divinity” makes me want to learn more.
Brittany, what a great way to weave poetry and science together! Oftentimes, when I think of science, I return to the many tender memories I have of my now-adult son and him dragging me along to explore what the natural world has to offer.
“No, Mom, it has too many stripes.”
The exasperation scarcely veiled.
Thus was the regular discourse
between Daniel and I.
A critter lover from his first awareness,
he zoned in, examined, classified.
While I observed him, Daniel.
Many wanders in the woods,
chilly wading in the river,
me asking unenlightened questions,
because Daniel was my teacher.
You see, I never really cared
about the many kinds of toads
or (mostly benign!) snakes
or “whatever,” but Daniel did.
Over time, this Daniel of mine
opened to me a greater wonder
and a clearer understanding
Mother Nature has so much to tell us.
I ‘awwwed’ out loud at “While I observed him, Daniel.” That parallel line with “because Daniel was my teacher” shifting him and you to different roles in your relationship. And then the close line, “Mother Nature has so much to tell us.” struck that parallel between the speaker(you) as the mother who has to much to tell us (the reader) and Daniel who also has so much to tell us, because, after all, aren’t we just as much a part of nature? Love the tender thoughtfulness of this poem, Charlene.
Charlene, what a joy to be taught by your child. The fact that you went with him, even when you didn’t care at first shows the power science has for your “whatever” became “opened to me a greater wonder.” The power of being captured by the learning, and of course, the power of “this Daniel of mine” So sweet and lovely!
Thank you, Brittany, for this prompt. I fell behind on my writing this weekend and am easing in with a little haiku.
“Moon,” she texts, a cue:
Step out for grounding– always
phasing, grace-filled still.
“always phasing,” such a great phrase to express not only the moon, but life in general. Powerful poem, Brenna!
Brenna, I love the phrase “grace-filled still”! Thank you for writing and sharing this!
Oh, Brenna, what a lovely haiku. The moon has been beautiful this month. (I’m noticing the Ramadan moon more this year because I miss the celebration from when I lived in Bahrain.)
I imagine you standing under the moonlight, deep breathing, become grounded. Those last words are treasures–“always phasing, grace-filled still.”
An (orchid) a flower that opens like something torn apart (words from On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous).
Reading this a few months ago left me thinking about this description of an orchid
I’ve kept orchids alive in our front window for many years. Most bloom a couple of times each year. I’m not sure of any specific number of months between blooms. I watch the four or five plants to see when the next one sets to bloom. It seems the front window is the right place. And I don’t seem to overwater or underwater the plants.
The line from the book got me thinking about the flower that opens like something torn apart. While I’d never have described it that way, the bloom clearly has a break along the lower side. It doesn’t make them less beautiful or exotic. It’s their shape. Those words while curious make it no less beautiful. A jungle plant thriving in a Texas window.
Jamie, I love orchids, and your pondering over the flower that opens like something torn apart. I was just looking at my blooms this morning and thinking about the break between the petals. Thank you for sharing!
I will forever now think of this line, Jamie. What a new perspective it allows us – and endless possibilities to wind that into our own poetic musings!
Water is an element
Along with air and earth and fire.
Water is a compound – H20.
We learn this early on.
We sip, swallow, and slug it.
We boil and stew
And steep and brew
And infuse it and even carbonate it.
Water bubbles with soap
To launder and clean.
We irrigate the food we eat
And nourish livestock and pets with it.
It powers mills and dynamos.
It cools nuclear reactors.
It sails ships and barges.
And surrounds submarines.
It warms us and cools us.
We shower and bathe in it.
We swim and dive into it.
We ski across its liquid and its frozen forms.
It carries medicine to us
And provides hydration
Through plastic tubes
Inserted into our veins.
Water is a wonder to us in
All of its forms – ice and steam and liquid.
We can’t get enough of just
Watching water.
WE ARE WATER.
We know this in a primordial way
When a loving parent soaps our tiny hands
Under a warm stream of running water.
Oh, Katrina, lovely waterfall of words. Water is truly our most important life source. I love those last two lines that make the rest of the poem resonate with our humanity and the “WE ARE WATER” line.
Katrina, What a treat to follow your poem as you took us to the myriad places we experience water. The most touching stanza for me
Water is a wonder to us in
All of its forms – ice and steam and liquid.
We can’t get enough of just
Watching water.
reminds me of the restorative impact of simply standing, sitting, or walking along the beach listening and watching this powerful force stopped by the the sands on the seashore and played in by the birds and seals along La Jolla Shores!
Thanks for the reminder.
Katrina,
This is a fabulous list of all water does and a lovely way to honor our liquid gold. As someone who has lived almost all my adult life in the desert (high mountain desert in Idaho), I’m keenly aware of water issues, and I get frustrated by those who take a cavalier attitude about water scarcity. Poems like yours are a reminder of why we must protect and cherish water.
Snaggletooth
by Mo Daley 4/10/23
a five-year-old wakes,
surprised when his tooth falls out
without too much blood
My grandson this morning 😃
SO CUTE!
Perfect haiku, Mo! And this actually happened to me today with a 5th grader. No blood at all. Must’ve been hanging by suction alone.
Mo, he’s a cutie! I love your sweet whimsical haiku, science included! He seems young for losing teeth already!
Aah, so adorable! Now tell us a part about the Tooth Fairy 😊
nspired by a student who doesn’t let anything stop him from asking all of the questions.
If the moon dissolved,
our planet would lose
its game of tug-of-war
spinning us onto a new axis.
Unobservable to the Earth-dwellers
for the approaching future but
dangerously moody weather
and doomsday ice ages
promised down the timeline.
If the moon dissolved,
infant sea turtles may
never find their way home,
canines would lose the
direction of their howl,
yellow evening primrose
would remain forever furled,
the Great Barrier Reef’s coral
would cease to spawn.
If the moon dissolved,
there will be no more
moonlit
walks
dances
faces
kisses
journeys.
Laura, this is incredibly beautiful! I could go line by line speaking to the power of each. The second stanza is a zinger to the heart, with those baby turtles losing their way home, the canines not having a direction to howl, the primrose never unfurling, and -oh- the death of the reef. Start to finish, it’s a pure gift to read.
Laura, these are beautiful and thoughtful questions from an inquisitive mind. Thanks for encouraging him!
Laura, I love the science first and then the sweet romance that would be missing if the moonlight were no more. Beautiful.
Laura,
I really love the repeated “if”at the beginning of the stanzas, honoring the questions. I love the vastness of the first stanza imagery coupled with the smaller details of the second, and the sparseness of the last stanza is just perfection.
Laura,
I love the implied rather than stated question. Even more, I love the way the poem moves from pragmatic to poetic, from the rational to the romantic.
Brittany, I’m awed by your gorgeous poem and will hang onto it as a mentor text. The phrasing, the powerful imagery, and the emotion of the moon for the Earth – just stunning. I write a lot about nature – birds especially – yet I struggled with this today. I had to dig deep… here’s what I came up with…and thank you!
Existential Dance
sea and earth
earth and sea
complicated
choreography
streams of movement
building higher
freeform deposits
wetter, drier
life rising, falling
layer on layer
it’s all timing, timing,
the dragon-slayer
everything alive
to remain, must eat
until nothing remains
but remains under feet
strata with volumes
lined on a shelf
secret stories kept
unto itself
sea and earth
earth and sea
consolidated
choreography
streams of movement
releasing the store
freeform deposits
washing ashore
when miners come
millennia later
scratching their heads
no translator
for what they’re seeing
drawn from the earth
looking for phosphate
to be stunned by girth
of ancient teeth
from a creature long gone
scientific name:
Megalodon
(which means “big tooth”)
—what great irony
this turns out to be
last laugh of earth and sea
monster-shark teeth
unearthed in a way
with a side effect:
workers’ tooth decay
everything alive
to remain, must eat
until nothing remains
but remnants…of teeth
sea and earth
earth and sea
conspiratorial
choreography
Fran, I am so impressed by your poem! I live to write about birds, too, but I thought enough is enough already! I struggled with this prompt quite a bit. I was able to squeeze out a haiku, but you’ve inspired me to try a little harder next time. This is lovely!
Fran, wow, you worked hard! This is gorgeous. So many beautiful images and word play items. The rhyming and short lines are very effective. I love the refrain with the kind of choreography changing–complicated, consolidated, and conspiratorial (my favorite)
Fran, there’s so much here that I am awed by. The stanza about miners without a translator—brilliant. Your rhyme scheme and play within it—perfect. Thanks for sharing a lovely all-encapsulating poem that happens to be about teeth!
Fran,
This is a heartbeat of a poem, made possible, of course, by the lovely rhyme and harmonious syllables in each line /stanza. I’m drawn to this stanza:
“everything alive
to remain, must eat
until nothing remains
but remnants…of teeth”
As you know, I read a lot of climate change literature and am currently listening to Greta Thunberg’s “The Climate Book,” which is a collection of essays. Most climate books discuss human impact on animals and how our ways of being, particularly in Western countries, effect food. We are indeed part of a carefully choreographed dance.
Brittany, thank you for this opportunity to connect science and poetry here. I loved your poem and the levels on which it works turned out so well. Thanks for sharing it as a mentor!
What makes you distinct from me
is a small percentage of biology
our DNA is 99.9% the same, see?
Our differences are a matter of psychology.
Although we are mostly the same,
we have yet to figure out this life “game”.
Each side has their own aim
pointing at each other for who to blame.
All of us share more similarities objectively
therefore, linked to our adversaries through destiny.
Indeed, hold on to your identity,
but we have to solve humanity’s problems collectively
Rachelle,
What a wonderful message and so true! We have more in common than some would like to admit. You are so on point with your rhymes, too.
Rachelle,
Your poem is so full of truth.
We ase so very similar yet different.
Thank you for sharing today.
Rachel, how I love the reminder that we ARE humanity, our story is one in the end, and that we need to be about solving things collectively. Brava!
*Rachelle 🙂
Rachelle, super message, and a great reminder that we share so much DNA. Nice job with the rhyming.
🙁
Thank you, Rachelle, for teaching us that our DNAs carry more similarities than some would want to admit. Great message in your poem today!
This morning on The Slowdown, Major Jackson opened with commentary about forest bathing, or Shinrin-yoku, finally making its presence known in wellness communities. Serendipity! I used his opening commentary to compose a black-out poem. My poem is attached in the photo but here is what he said that I used for my poem.
“As we stroll slowly beneath the earth’s giants, amidst fungi, moss, lichen, and ferns, we are being workshopped in dappled light. What’s restorative isn’t merely the smells and sounds of woodlands, chirping birds and glimpses of wildlife. We are forced to confront the illusions of modern life. We are awash with a simplicity that takes us to idylls of clarity, that encourages introspection.”
Stacey, I’m digging this poem – the wellness of ecotherapy and forest bathing, and of grounding feet to earth. What you did here with a found poem to bring in science is ecological love chemistry!
Stacey,
I just had my students do found/blackout poems! I love yours and its simplicity which perfectly complements the message.
Stacey,
Forest bathing is one of my favorite things, and your poem is both verbally and visually stunning. There’s so much packed into these few words, but I think “clarity” encompasses the essence of what forest bathing gives.
Stacey, I love your found poem. Forest bathing sounds so attractive right now. Walking with “wild illusions. of. clarity” should be a part of my daily routine.
Stacey – this is a fantastic black-out poem on an even more fantastic topic! Forest bathing -? Count me in! I crave being awash with such simplicity.
I just read about forest bathing this afternoon with my students. I love the layout of your poem. And the words illusions of clarity. I love your use of the word illusions.
Oh, Stacey, this is just gorgeous! “wild illusions of clarity”
I’m curious about how you did this black out poem digitally.
So beautiful–the line “light wild illusions of clarity” just got me right in the throat. Every word choice is perfect. There’s so much movement and stillness here.
What a lovely blackout poem. Your design is so beautiful too. “Light wild illusions” is definitely a whimsical phrase for me. So good 🙂
Brittany,
This is a really fun prompt and an excellent way to integrate disciplines. I can’t wait to share this prompt with my students.
A Case for Earthworms
Discover me just about anywhere across the globe.
Terrestrial ecosystems are my home.
Wiggling through black loam,
mixing and churning, breaking through thatch
improving drainage in that soggy patch
My presence decreases erosion and increases soil fertility
Without me, you’ll see poor soil quality.
The imagery is so rich and I love the idea of writing this poem from the perspective of a creature. The earthy diction “black loam” “soil fertility” gives this a dingy feel, but their importance is highlighted through last two lines and the rhyme throughout. You’ve certainly made the case for earthworms!
Tammi,
Perfect rhyme, line to line.
Great verse of celebration, Tammi. Earthworms are so important!! One can almost feel a fondness for them…almost…
I love the title, Tammi! And the rhyming is fun. (It seems a lot of poets used rhyme today. I wonder if more than usual did.) It is really vivid and fun to read aloud.
“Wiggling through black loam,
mixing and churning, breaking through thatch…”
Tammi, such a great take on earthworms! I moved into a brand-new house in a brand-new neighborhood three years ago, and at that time, the earthworm presence was minimal. The soil is now teeming with them, which causes me no end of delight! (The robins feel the same way :-)).
I do love a science poem! Today’s prompt matched up perfectly with our caterpillar sighting on our way back to the classroom from recess.
Life Cycle?
Caterpillar crossing
scrunch by scrunch
to the oohs and aahs
of its first grade audience
And then they notice the poop
on the picnic table and our eyes rise up
Fireworks explode
in a tree full of caterpillars
hanging
like tinsel
on a 1960’s Christmas tree
Will they be there tomorrow
or will they be
bird snacks
before
chrysalising
into blossoms
flying
egg laying
a new crop
of caterpillars
A life cycle continued
or broken?
(photo essay version available on my blog: https://thinkingthroughmylens.com/2023/04/10/life-cycle-npm23-day-10/)
Kim, thank you so much for a visual poem. I also looked at the photo essay on your blog. I like the sound of the first stanza: “scrunch by scrunch,” “oohs and aahs,” and “first grade audience.” The question at the end suggests at least a couple of perspectives, which is always welcomed.
Kim, your first stanza is perfect! I also love how you’ve brought in the poop, reminding us of that childlike wonder.
Great capture of that first grader reaction, Kim! When I see caterpillars, my first thought is, “are they friend or foe?” since so many of them like to munch on things I try to grow in my garden.
Brittany, thank you so much for hosting today. I like the inspiration and your drive to connect to nature. It is contagious. Your poem is so rich, and I love all of it, but the second stanza spike to me the most—people blaming the earth’s tilted axis for their vertigo. It made me smile.
When I read the prompt this morning, I had an idea to write about different sciences, but when my pen met the notebook, they decided to take another approach. Is that a part of a science of writing? Lol.
Purring Buddy
My favorite, orange goofball
Robby purrs when he is
cozy and content.
Relaxed, eyes half-closed,
he settles by my feet
when I am working,
or in my lap in the evenings.
With a little quiver,
he sends me waves of
calm and comfort.
Sometimes he purrs
when he’s hungry too, but
sounds like a crying child.
What I didn’t know
until he had a stroke—
cats also purr
when getting hurt
or being in pain,
as if soothing themselves
like babies do
sucking the thumb.
Quick search reveals
scientific studies confirm:
purring cats heal faster.
What a relief!
I catch myself
listening to Robby’s purr
more carefully these days
to see if he needs me
to send him
waves of calm.
Leilya, thanks for sharing this about your purring buddy. I felt my own emotions shift from calm and comfort to concern and then back to relaxed again. I like the parallel in the beginning, where Robby settles on your feet and keeps you comforted to the ending where you send him calming waves. Thanks for teaching me this fact about cat’s purrs.
Leilya,
Your poem is so educational. I knew cats purr when hurt but had no idea they pitt to heal. Comparing that kitty purr to baby’s purr is a soothing metaphor, and Robbie is adorable!
Leilya, ahhhhh, what a handsome cat. I love how we learn about cat purrs and Robby in this poem. I wonder if our words were considered purrs science could definitively show how writing heals.
Oh, Leilya, you taught me something today. I didn’t realize that about cats. How precious that you listen to Robby more carefully to see if he’s in pain. So you can do the same for him that he does for you.
Ah, I love cats, Leilya, so your poem, and the sweet pic both spoke to me.
Thank you, Brittany Saulnier, for the invitation to bring some science knowledge and learning into poetry form. A few years ago, I thought my tree was dying. I saw a light green substance covering the bark, and the tree was dropping its leaves so much earlier than other trees. I took a picture to a local nursery and was told it was lichen. I spent some time researching, and I think I might have written a poem back then.
My students are writing tanka and haiku poems in class, so I decided to write a haiku.
Lichen is…
algae and fungi
in a symbiotic dance
protector of trees
Heather, thank you for teaching me something new! I’ve known of lichen but never knew it was fungi and algae! I love the imagery of the symbiotic dance!
Now I know what lichen is too. Thank you, Heather, for your haiku and lesson. “A symbiotic dance” sounds great!
Heather–I love this! The “symbiotic dance” is my favorite part. Now I want to know more about how they are protectors of trees.
Heather,
I learned something new too. I didn’t know that algae and fungi protected the trees.
Heather, I admire the carefully chosen words to show the purpose of lichen. The sound you’ve created is also lovely. I especially liked your second line!
I’ve been a fan of lichens for years. The many shapes and colors they take on. I love the simplicity of your definition, particularly whimsical.
A late arrival for me. We took an impromptu trip to Las Vegas and Death Valley to escape cold and snow.,Internet is almost nonexistent in Death Valley. Today’s prompt is the perfect inspiration. I live Padma’s poem and love poetry as a conduit into science. The images of spinning are a lovely thread connecting ideas.
Rainbow Rock
*After visiting Father Crawley’s Vista in Death Valley, California.
imagine two hands
holding a rainbow
skyward, hoisting
its haloed hues
toward heaven. imagine
cradling newborn
rainbow as a mother
attending her
baby. now imagine
lowering infant
rainbow into earth’s
cliffed crib. its striated
colors transition into
layer upon layer of
volcanic lava rock
baked & oxidized,
a panoramic palate
pained for eternity into
a silent, austere scene
masking a violent birth.
—Glenda Funk
April 10, 2023
Glenda, your words do the landscape justice. I love the idea of the volcanic layers being kin to a rainbow; it’s so right on and a new way for me of seeing the beauty in our Earth. Thank you for this poem.
Glenda, such a beautiful poem inspired by your trip to Death Valley. You had me with the first two lines: “imagine two hands / holding a rainbow.” You have a gift of “showing” without telling. Bravo!
Glenda,
I love the image you’ve painted of Death Valley. I’ve never been but can see it through your poem. Absolutely gorgeous. These last lines are my favorite:
“a panoramic palate
pained for eternity into
a silent, austere scene
masking a violent birth”
Such tender description, so beautiful –
How I would love to see this myself. My cousin (who lives in California) makes an annual trek to Death Valley for a couple of nights, loving the stars – and, I suspect, beauty such as this. I was stunned by that last line “masking a violent birth” – but of course, it would not have been easy, would it? Just lovely, Glenda! Glad you were able to make this trip and share poetry with us.
Glenda, your poem is on fire! I love the way you lead to the final reveal: “masking a violent birth.” Your language is rich and powerfully paints the austere landscape. I especially enjoyed “cliff cribbed”.
Just gorgeous, Glenda – really breathtaking images that are made even more impactful, two by two.
Thank you for helping me to see the rainbow in all of its beauty in “layer upon layer of volcanic lava rock.”
Oh, the science and whimsy. I love so much the imagines in your poem because I was imagining just what you said. It’s a lovely image of the rainbow infant lowered into the crib.
I just said to Keith, we have to go to Death Valley next winter. (He’s never been, and I haven’t been since I was a teen.)
“a silent, austere scene / masking a violent birth” I loved all the imagery in this poem, Glenda.
We were star-crossed lovers
Catherine and Heathcliff
Gatsby and Daisy
Romeo and Juliet
Stars at the end of their lifecycle
Will form a black hole
Initially our gravitational pull
Was so incredibly strong
But the result is that nothing can escape
Not even light
I felt this inescapable absence of light
I didn’t want to break up and become a void
But the event horizon is the ultimate prison wall
One can get in but never get out
This doesn’t have a happy ending
I was attempting to save our oneness, our whole
But…
Black holes travel at breakneck speed
On a collision course
Wow, Jennifer! I love,love, love the allusions to the “star crossed lovers” and your analogy between the inevitable demise of their love and black holes! Really beautiful!
Jennifer, I LOVE THIS POEM in all of its tragedy. Lines like “One can get in but never out” make me wish I were teaching Romeo and Juliet again. If it is OK with you, I would like to share it with my students during poetry month.
Sure! Thank you!
Awww. So tragically beautiful. Is this what all those poems and stories and songs have really been about? This natural phenomenon that existed all along? Are we just yet another version of it? And what would make us think we wouldn’t be? We always think we can be different than the norm in nature, but we are not. We are just one more very tiny part of that giant cosmos. All the more reason to enjoy every moment while we can – at least we have that about us which we can claim – the ability to derive pleasure from our mortality. : )
Hello Brittany,
I love the physical pushing, pulling, and spinning I could feel in your poem. Very powerful!
The Clouds
Three atoms, fighting the powers that pull them together,
Constantly seeking connections.
I feel them heavy on my lungs,
And see the fuzzy gauze that blurs the space between us.
The cumulous collective, floating overhead,
weightless yet weighty,
Over one million pounds of vapor,
Moving through space.
Cartoonish shapes
Fill the imagination,
Before they fall back to earth,
A lone rivulet tracing its way
To the bottom of my windowsill.
Shaun,
Love this line “weightless yet weighty” — the perfect contradiction to describe a cloud.
What movement this poem encapsulates, from so high above to right in front of us and headed toward the ground below. The repetition of vision in here is fun – the fuzzy gauze, blur, the shapes floating, and then the lone rivulet, which I can see taking its imperfect line slowly downward. Beautiful vision.
What a wonderful prompt – I hope I satisfied its call for science (maybe…maybe not) and whimsy 🙂
Around your orbit
I am your night,
your moonlit sky,
your forever constant.
You are my sun,
raining your warmth
and light upon
the shadows
of yesterday.
James,
I love the way you have captured the revolution of a day through the sun and moon and through “the shadows of yesterday.”
This was a thought-prompt. Thank you!
In middle school science
we learned about osmosis
and suddenly everyone
wanted to sleep with their
textbooks under their pillows
hoping the facts
would seep into their brains
with nothing more
than a crick in their neck
from the hard book covers.
The debate raged over
whether you could absorb
an entire book
or had to sleep on a page at a time,
but all the kids who hated studying
tried it a time or two.
Today I learned that one
definition of osmosis
isn’t that far off from then:
“The process of gradual or
unconscious assimilation
of ideas, knowledge, etc.”
So surround yourself by
knowledge and eventually
some of it will seep its way
into your brain, without
obvious effort on your part.
Isn’t that just, well, life?
Cara,
Osmosis was always joked about in my house. But working in different classes I feel like I continue to learn even when I am not actively engaged in note taking or conversation.
I love the visual you created in the first stanza and the lesson in the last two stanzas.
I’m sure this brings back memories for most! I love the lightheartedness of your poem and how it’s capped off by wisdom . . .
Lovely braid of science, poetry, and life. After reading the first line I said, “I wish I would have thought of that!”
Cara,
I took a stroll down memory lane in your poem. I remember similar lessons and debates, but I can tell you studying and memorizing right before bedtime almost always helped me. I do love that final line. It’s an epiphany most soon learn. Thanks for the moment of nostalgia.
Cara, your poem channels the thoughts of middle schoolers perfectly. I think these lines are my favorites:
“The debate raged over
whether you could absorb
an entire book
or had to sleep on a page at a time,
but all the kids who hated studying”
I would like to share it with my students with your permission.
Katrina,
That’s a high compliment. Thank you. Yes, feel free to use it. You are a brave woman teaching middle school. I salute you!
Good afternoon, thank you for this fun prompt. This will be my third poem today. I let the weekend get away from and just posted my Saturday and Sunday poems earlier today. :O I’m not sure I love what I’ve done with this poem, but I like the idea. Maybe if I was in a science class I would have been able to do more. I went rather simple, but I did it.
Cool morning air tickles their nose
As they set to work unfolding supplies
Now bright colorful material
Are open all over the ground
Baskets are carefully attached
Propane on board
The burners start getting lite
Slowly warm air fills the material
The balloons start to rise
Ready to take passengers
For a ride in the sky
Even as a “rather simple” piece, I really enjoy your work. There is something serene here – maybe for me it’s the step-by-step nature of the balloons being opened and inflated, maybe it it’s the whimsical nature of your craft. Either way, it’s lovely.
I love how you describe the process of preparing for a lovely ride in the sky.
DeAnna,
This creates colorful visuals of the balloons that glide over our town in the early mornings. I’ve never gone, but maybe someday. You created a very peaceful poem.
DeAnna, just lovely! I love the juxtaposition of the “cool morning” and the “burners” later on. The playful imagery of the balloons starting to rise brought a smile to my face. Thanks for sharing!
Wonderful prompt! Thinking of my birthday tulips.
Heliotropism
Even when cut
And placed in the green vase
On my kitchen table
The yellow and orange tulips
Turn to follow the sun.
Helio – the sun,
Tropism – to turn,
From Ancient Greek.
Blooms open and close
Performing their daily dance,
Following the sun
From east to west,
Their agile stems
Twist and turn
Always seeking the light.
Joanne,
If I close my eyes I can see your bouquet of tulips turning to follow the sun. Thank you for sharing.
Joanne,
I am happy to see my poem in conversation with yours in this scene of tulips turning toward the sun. The “blooms open and close” as a “daily dance” is, indeed, whimsy at its best. I love this “twist” of tulips you share with us today.
Sarah
Joanne, the color and movement of your poem is delightful. I also love that I’ve learned a new word. Your final line is perfect to close: “Always seeking the light.”
Joanne, this poem is mighty visual. It also engages us in a botany lesson. I love the lines: “Blooms open and close
Performing their daily dance.” Thank you for sharing!
Joanne,
Gorgeous images i. your poem I do love tulips and am fond of watching them change throughout the day. There’s a subtle subjectivity combined w/ the objective scientific facts in the poem. It’s impressive. I think we need to be more like tulips seeking light.
Thanks for your visual definition. Don’t you think we all turn to the sun? To catch its warmth on our faces.I love the daily dance. The agile stems. Clear and simple descriptions.
I love the connection you make, Brittany. It’s both visual and visceral. I’ve taught poetry writing for a STEM Girls’ Day Out event at our college, and I try to bring this into my classes as well to help the more STEM-oriented students see how these disciplines can really complement one another. Here’s a bit of a rambler for today, but on my mind as it’s spring! Thank you!
On our walks, we find the most beautiful weeds
sprouting up between the cracks
blooming where the dozers have churned the soil.
I always just thought weeds were resilient
forcing their way up through any nook and cranny
stubborn little bastards that never relented.
My husband tilled all the grass in our yard
planting bee- and butterfly-friendly perennials instead
Lo and behold, native volunteers began sprouting as well.
“Where did all these weeds come from?” he asks.
Precisely the answer Professor William J. Beal sought
when in 1879 he buried bottles of seed on MSU’s campus.
The Beal Experiment continues to this day
exploring what right set of cues force a seed to sprout
and just how long some could last underground.
Turns out disturbing the soil is all it takes
to trigger some seeds to spout, invites them
to shed their husks and reach for the sun.
How long had they rested dormant before my husband
churned that soil and broke the barrier? I don’t know
but now that there here, they will remain, part of the garden.
W.J. Beal Botanical Garden | Michigan State University (msu.edu)
Denise,
This image of weeds as resilient is perfect and the “disturbing the soil is all it takes/to trigger some seeds to sprout.” And, indeed, I choose to read this metaphorically, too — and like to think of the educators in this space as resilient, beautiful weeds that sprout when our soil is disturbed, change agents in action!
Peace,
Sarah
Denise–I am in love with the idea of the pollinator friendly “lawn” and the Beal Experiment. Seeds are so interesting–some activated by disturbing the soil, some by fire… Now I have some more researching to do! Thanks for that. I do love weeds!
Denise, I didn’t know about The Beal Experiment, but it makes sense. I also noticed some metaphorical meaning in “resilient weeds,” “disturbing the soil,” and breaking the barrier, as Sarah mentioned. Thank you for writing and sharing today too!
Denise, I really love this piece. It makes me think of one of my favorite childhood books, A Tree Grows in Brookly, and the description of the trees that will grow anywhere. My favorite line is “invites them to shed their husks and reach for the sun.” Intentional or not, it made me think of our students who struggle and don’t fit into our tidy, easy definitions–how they are such a part of our school communities too and deserve to have soil disturbed so they can become beautiful. Thanks for making me think today.
Denise,
I’m so glad I came back and read this today. So interesting about the Beal experiment. I love this:
And that the weeds are joining in.
Like Sarah, I could help but read this as a metaphor for the changes that are happening in our nation–
I believe white women are getting their soil disturbed and sprouting to help dismantle the white supremacist system.
OMG Denise – I hope. I hope. I hope. (And participate! Activate! Do what we can!)
Amen!
What fun to reflect on different ways trees connect me to my heritage of African and Native American ancestry.
TREES and ME
Whenever I see a tree
I wonder how it’s related to me
After reading Native American authors
Who share compelling stories about
The interrelatedness of nature
I’ve come to believe it’s true.
Say Redwood Tree in the Sequoias, you still look great!
Were you here when our ancestors crossed the Bering Strait?
Say Angel Oak Trees on Geeche Islands
Did my great-grandparents play under you?
Hey, Dutch Elms along our Motown Street
That’s where we pre-teens used to meet
To play hopscotch when we were young
And sip pilfered scotch when we were not
As teens and thought we were so hot!
Doing the twist in the mist to Four Tops songs being sung.
Hey Palm Trees on Southern-Cal beaches
I never knew how you could drink when there was no rain
But, then, I remembered: you’re Created by God
He designed it so you can survive in dry sod.
So, yes, I guess we are related, ‘cause He also created me
I’m so glad we all can co-exist, our Creator, thee, and me.
Anna,
Love that direct address turn in the final stanza to “Hey Palm Trees.” It’s just what we like to do when we learn something new — share the news of our aha!
Love your poem that explores your connections to trees, Anna! It also lets us learn more about you as a pre-teen playing hopscotch and young adult. Thank you!
Hi Brittany, thank you for such a unique prompt! I am back to work after a wonderfully relaxing Spring Break week off and already I am swamped. I figured it’s best for me to comment now while I can and hopefully my poem will surface before bedtime.
I loved this and it made me chuckle at the idea:
Looking forward to reading everyone’s poems this evening but I promise to post first. Otherwise, I know it won’t happen.
Much appreciated,
🥰
I’m doing all kinds of scientific research these days to answer my toddler’s constant stream of “why” questions! So here’s a little play with one she asked me today.
Why did the snow melt, Mom?
Because the sun reached out
as far as it could
and gave energy
to the tiniest little snowflakes
the molecules of hydrogen and oxygen
held together in crystal shape
like a tall tower of blocks
and they started to jiggle and shake
like a dance
leaning one way and another
until the careful structure
fell apart, the air between them collapsed
and they heaped together on the ground
then sunk down deep in the dirt
to spread the sun’s energy
to push life
further down
Love this poem as a question and answer. Would be a great classroom prompt. Thank you!
Rachel, What a wonderful way to answer a curious little one’s question – with accuracy and whimsy!
Rachel,
Last week we had over a foot of snow in a day and a half. For months I’ve thought about potential flooding given our excess snow this year. Today there’s a “hydrologic” warning in the weather app. In short, temperatures have risen above freezing, so there’s flooding possible. All this is to say your explanation for melting snow is so much more fun and less scary. I love the conversational toons. So unlike the weather app.
Brittany, what a fun prompt. I had to research bioluminescence for a writing project once, and I was fascinated by my poem’s subject. I adored the action in your poem, and especially the forever spinning image at the end.
Small, but Mighty Bright
I am divine
mystery
small, but mighty
bright
my eight arms
shimmer
blue-green lights
luring
in deepest dark
crustaceans
with my bell-shaped
web
I snare; devour
call
me glowing sucking
octopus
or nothing at
all
Barb Edler
10 April 2023
“shimmer
blue-green lights
luring”
From such beauty, such terror results – “I snare; devour.” I love how your poem offers the full story with such a few words. The shape of your poem “shimmers” I think…moving from a couple words in a line, to one single small word, and back again – visually, it looks like movement.
I love this! The end is an especially wonderful surprise.
Barb,
Clever *riddle* w/ wonderful, luminescent clues:
bright
shimmer
blue-green lights
I love the tactile details and images. I can see this poem in a picture book.
I love the word choice–mystery, shimmer, luring, snare, devour, etc.. It creates wonder in the reader.
I love the 3 and 1 form of your poem! How clever! I’ve always wanted to go kayaking in the bioluminescent waters in Florida in one of those clear kayaks. You remind me I. Your poem how lovely this must be!
Oh, Barb, wow. I can see why you were fascinated with this divine creature. I love the rhyming you managed, and these sweet short lines. Like the octopus, your poem is small but mighty. I did an image search, and so many amazing photos came up!
Brittany, as a second grade teacher, the seasons was the first scientific idea that came to mind, especially after reading Denise Krebs idea to use Padma’s concluding lines in a golden shovel.
Never Forever
Next time, it won’t seem as bad.
You see, this too shall pass.
A tree may lose its leaves, but it lives and grows.
Think about the newness that comes with Spring;
How what was dormant is fully awake.
Much like the seasons, life’s experiences my cycle through
Hope, distress, joy, pain; however,
It holds true that none of it is eternal.
(Somewhat of a golden shovel inspired by Whenever You See A Tree by Padma Venkatraman.)
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/155531/whenever-you-see-a-tree
Padma Venkatraman’s poem was one of hope, and yours builds on this so beautifully while focusing on seasons. I find myself thinking, ‘to everything there is a season, turn, turn, turn.” I adore this line especially, “A tree may lose its leaves, but it lives and grows.” Lovely golden shovel!
Donnetta, I was completely captured by your very first line. Your golden shovel poem captures so many levels of life: from the spring to its final season, I am impressed with how much you were able to reveal through eight lines. Your final line “It holds true that none of it is eternal.” is powerful and echoes like a final bell.
Donetta, there’s so much hope and renewal in this poem! This feels like the perfect poem for today.
Donnetta,
Your golden shovel is what I needed on this bleak gray day in the pacific northwest. There are so many trees to enjoy, yes they hold hope. Thank you for sharing today.
This is an excellent golden shovel, and an excellent poem. It’s such a great combination as well – your words and Padma’s words are in perfect synch during this poetic conversation. Your craft is lovely!
Donnetta, I like how you use the seasons, which come and go with regular rhythm to relate to life’s experiences–hope, distress, joy, pain–and none will last forever. “This too shall pass”–yes. I have always appreciated the four seasons because if you are in one season you don’t care for, you know it will be over soon. Well done with Padma’s line.
thank you for a great prompt today.
The Tameleon method
You can change on a whim,
Writing notes with broken limbs.
Devising a wonderful lesson,
posting ideas, no guessing.
A creature that practices telepathy,
Tameleons see what others cannot see.
Potential that lies within,
she brings it out with a simple grin.
Noticing the good with rough,
She continues when it gets tough.
Problems, abuse, and strife,
Bullies, guns, switch blade knives.
Potential, growth, and success
Sacrificing herself, nothing less.
A reptile to change with the times,
Rapping old fashioned nursery rhymes.
The wittiness of this creature,
Amplifies her gentle features.
She adapts through time,
explaining what happened on rewind.
Wooden desks morphed into headphones,
No standing in corners or being left alone.
No homework anymore,
No dunce hats , no chores.
All this time she has continue to lead,
Especially the ones with special needs.
All her work is hidden,
Compensating her efforts is forbidden.
She marches along regardless.
Without her… childhood becomes chartless.
The Tameleon strives on and on,
Camouflaging her smart undertones.
Doing more than expected,
Trying harder when she is rejected.
Not for her but for them,
She believes they are all gems.
The discipline of an artisan,
Changes with every season.
Teaching with the traits of a lizard,
Structuring her classes like a wizard.
So, the lessons they learn today,
Will guide their future pathways.
There is one that we all know,
Without them we would not grow.
The reliance
of this science
defines us.
Chameleon methodology,
Is a heartfelt philosophy.
A combination of a teacher and a chameleon,
A mother, doctor, counselor, — a Tameleon.
· Boxer
An ode to teachers! I love the work ethic –
reminds me of the hippocratic oath that doctors take. Great play on ‘chameleon methodology” – which I had to look up!
Boxer, oh all the things teachers need to be and do! I love the whimsy of describing her as a ‘creature’ with special abilities and traits!
Boxer, your poem flows so effortlessly. I enjoy how this is a celebration of a teacher’s wizardry since teachers are expected to do so much. Your final couplet is divine!
I love this tribute to the adaptability of teachers as challenges mount and methodologies change.
is my favorite couplet!
I went down a rabbit hole of sciency stuff – can’t wait to share this prompt with all my science-loving students!!! 🙂 Thanks Brittany! Your poem is beauitful.
How many drops does
it take to prove to you that
I can work like glue?
Angie, you took me to a memory of being with students learning about cohesion and adhesion by putting water drops on a penny, in such few words!
oh this is fantastic! As a preschool teacher, I would have loved loved loved this haiku posted on my classroom wall, in the art center!
Angie, the question and its power is magnified by your brevity. Powerful poem!
Great haiku! Great idea for a poster in a classroom!
Fun, Angie! Well-played haiku. It might be a fun experiment to see how few drops it takes.
I’m intrigued by the topic I chose to write about, but a haiku is all I have in me today.
Freudensprunge
(“joy jumps”)
When tickled, a rat
will jump with joy and “giggle”–
feeling happiness?
This is awesome – the word is so amazing, both in sound, spelling, and meaning. Your haiku expresses the playfulness of it 🙂
So joyful and unexpected! Love “Freudensprunge” so much.
Ooh, very intriguing! Do rats really do that? I’m going to go do some internet searching! So cool. I love how you ended your haiku with a question.
Small poem, big idea! Wonderful!
Once Upon a Garden Bed, Overheard
Hey,
do you have time to chat?
Day in, day out
I’m buried deep in work
on your behalf
I’m so happy to work so hard
I hope you never doubt it
I’ve noticed
you tend to ignore me but
truth be told
I’m always there for you
I’m like your best friend
paying close caring attention
to everything you throw my way
I’m here for you
I have to believe
our relationship is growing
C’mon, share with me!
I ruminate over every little scrap of you
breaking it down
working through it
honestly, I nibble up every little thing you have to offer
I guess this comes across as needy, doesn’t it?
I mean, I care so deeply
I’m happy with your discards!
Truth is
we’ve been together forever
I will take your crap and
make the best of it
(Actually, since we’re talking so frankly,
is this the right time to tell you –
lately, you’ve gone to some real extremes?
I really don’t like to mess with your toxicity
this trash is going to kill us both
I wish I could figure out how to
keep my distance with this
I mean I hate being party to it
growing more of this
Have you thought about stopping this behavior?)
Anyhoo –
I like to think of myself as
a thoughtful decomposer
and you are most definitely
my muse
In the end,
I think it’s life-giving
for both of us
Well, let’s give this time
to sink in
(and with that, the lowly earthworm wiggled away)
Maureen, I love this whimsy of sincerity with a nice twist of advisory in the parenthetical stanza. Love how punctuation helps us infuse tone. And then the voice in the “anyhoo” is adorable.
Oh my, Maureen, I adore your humor here, and the direct voice you use to show your thoughts about your garden. You have so many terrific allusions throughout, and I loved “mess with your toxicity” “Anyhoo” and “thoughtful decomposer”. Very engaging poem, and wonderfully clever!
Maureen,
I loved wriggling my way through this clever poem. At first I thought a garden was speaking, then a compost pile, and when I got to the reveal, I realized the worming friend works in both my guesses. The conversational tone is whimsical and fun.
Hahahaha, Maureen, I thought along and along it would be a different animal like a chicken, and here it’s an earthworm with such a cool twist at the end. I like that you used Overheard in your title – – it reminds me of a poem entitled Overheard on a Salt Marsh, and I love the dialogue between characters in poetry.
Maureen, what a great conversation with “the lowly earthworm.” This was a very clever form to mix science with whimsy. Worms are so important, these “thoughtful decomposers.” Tammi wrote about earthworms today too.
A woman from the passenger seat
lowers her window to shew a fly
catching a bee in the process,
and far away in the back seat
a boy swipes left on his
dragon simulator app.
Buzzing now and again and yet again
dancing bee draws an eye from screen
nudging a boy to witness this
spring spectacle:
a superbloom they almost,
still might, miss
until the driver’s eyes swell and tear
like the winter desert rain that
stirred dormant seeds into
rainbow waves roadside.
A sneeze diverts bewitched minds
in captain chairs, and the driver
pulls over. With woman and boy
they step off asphalt into waves:
purple blooms of lupines,
yellows of Mexican poppies,
oranges of apricot mallows.
A rare botanical phenom indeed.
I am reminded of delightful children’s stories where one thing leads to another in domino effect. Such a great poetic snapshot of spring’s arrival, everything all at once. Absolutely love “they step off asphalt into waves” – and these waves are gorgeous spring blooms.
Wow, Sarah, I love how you show the action in this poem. I felt like it was going to be a bit like the Old Lady who Ate the Fly story. Your words capture so many actions, and emotions. Loved “rainbow waves roadside” and the sudden tears, and then “A sneeze diverts bewitched minds”. The color at the end is an exquisite natural explosion I feel that I am apart of as a reader like Dorothy landing in the colorful world of Oz, completely amazed. Your poem is a phenom!
Oh my gosh, what beautiful images you created in my mind. Just lovely! Thank you!
Sarah, your poe shows how amazing nature can seem even when it’s teeny tiny. The bee draws the attention of the driver and the driven.
A sneeze diverts bewitched minds
Then, we’re brought back to the current after being drawn away by nature doing it’s thing in the form of a tiny little buzzing bee.
Temperamental and toxic
Sodium Hydroxide sits
Pouting, waiting, wishing
For water’s slow hiss
Like a natural spring
Heat rises slowly up
Sit, ponder, placate
Keep hands away
Melt oils, butters, and
Sweet tobacco scents
Two separate worlds
Two different temps
Waiting until within
Ten tender degrees
Over 110 a soapy mess
Around 90 is best
Triglycerides and fatty acids
Mix, transform, join
Soft metal blade cuts
Sleep for six weeks
Rinse, lather, repeat
Ashley, the personification of Sodium Hydroxide is the perfect road for this prompt. Its action of pouting is visual and adds personality. And your last line sums it all up so well!
Ashley,
Love this line of “pouting, waiting, wishing” and then that temperamental evidence later in the “within/ten tender degrees”! The chemistry here is so human.
Sarah
Love all the meditative aspects to this process – “pouting, waiting, wishing,” “sit, ponder, placate,” “waiting until within,” and “sleep for six weeks.” The slow work of it all! I learned a lot from your poem today – and I’m left with frightening wonder that this toxic stuff makes soap!
Brittany, I love this invitation to delve into the world of science for poetic inspiration! I especially love your poem! It keeps opening up new meanings as I revisit it.
3 States
When I learn
water can exist in
three states
simultaneously,
I think,
Impossible!
Implausibly,
the exact combination
of pressure
and temperature
creates the conditions
possible for this to occur.
Still skeptical,
I consider how this
could be–
and then I concede;
thinking how often
the world leaves me
frozen in my tracks,
boiling with anger,
and melting into despair,
at just the right
confluence of
temperature
and
pressure.
The parallel between your emotions and the different forms water can take is mesmerizing and so clever. It gave a wonderful vision of a person pondering pressures and other parts of life we have to confront .
Stunning, Dave.
the world leaves me
3 States: Connecticut, Tennessee, and Pennsylvania. It matters. Love your poem, today.
Dave,
The three states of water as a science phenomena is fascinating enough, but these lines just really WOW me how you tie it those states in with emotion:
Wow, like the others I am so impressed with your connection to emotions “frozen”, “boiling”, “melting” – perfection!
Love the human parallels you so deftly note,
Wonderfully creative! Love your last stanza especially.
Dave, I really enjoyed this! And like the others, I think the final stanza is great: “the world leaves me / frozen in my tracks, / boiling with anger, / and melting into despair.” (And I agree with you — the world does this to me, too!)
Brittany,
What a wonderful prompt. I am not a science person but loved helping my students make connections using music and writing. I spent 23 years as a music teacher before switching to just ELA. I have spent a lifetime advocating for the arts, especially music, and noting the science behind it has always been one of my strategies.
I enjoyed your poem. Especially these lines I can so relate to.
“I can feel the plants claw into her sides,
to keep from spinning off into space.
I understand the fear,
of losing her, too.”
Music – My Medicine
Science affirms
what I have always known,
music – you heal me.
Trouble falling asleep?
RX: CALM App – listen to the soothing sounds of crickets on a summer night
or a gentle rain on the leaves – nature’s music.
Feeling anxious?
RX: Spotify – Natural Encounters: New England Sunrise – brings me back to a beloved trip to Leaf-peep in Vermont.
Need a pick-me-up?
RX: Music of the 70s – brings me back to high school and a more carefree time in my life.
Writer’s Block?
RX: Standard Jazz Classics – listening to the intricacies and improvisation inspires me to look deeper and let go.
Feeling melancholy?
RX: Vivaldi’s Four Seasons – Strings brighten my mood and remind me of when I was actively playing my upright bass. These pieces lighten my heart.
Need to chill and relax?
RX: Acoustic guitar – the melodious tones bring me calm and melt away the stress of the day.
Music heals
every cell of my being –
Body and soul.
Your apothecary of playlists spoke to me! I found myself smiling along at each of your questions and prescriptions.
Rita, your music background mixed in with your writing and the science (RX:) of today’s prompt makes for a perfect blend of prescriptives. I’ve used many of these, but most often find the writer’s block idea (though it’s usually more of a summer night cricket sound than music) helps the most! Loe how you brought everything together!
Love this so much. And you offer beautiful examples of this!
Absolutely true! Thank you for all the links.
Love this Rx for the soul. Such a nice range of music for different moods!
Rita, I love your music therapy today! Sometimes we play pass the pen and list our favorites on a mood or theme or specific playlist, just to see what the other thinks of what we would add. That’s a fun campsite game – – and I love these prescriptions that you list here! Music certainly sets the mood.
Conceptually, the music prescriptions and music as healing is so relatable. I especially appreciated the haiku-ish opening stanza that set up the rest of the poem
Rita, what a sweet way to write today. I have got some ideas from your prescriptions today. I also like the three line intro and conclusion.
Thanatosis
Last week I wrote
a poem about
“being enough”
about strength
and composure,
about the
beauty and
importance of
relying on
the self;
(no small
coincidence
this)
it was also the
night of Parent/
Teacher conferences
where an angry
parent of one of
my failing seniors
berated me
(rather vociferously)
about how I was
jeopardizing her
child’s future
career path.
Now, I’m not going
to say that I remembered
the poem and
chanted some of
its lines to myself
like some mantra
while this was
happening
(but I’m also not
going to say that
it wasn’t not doing
its work “under
the surface” as the
false accusations
kept on pilin’ up)
what I am going to
say, however, and,
granted, I’m not proud
of this, but had I written
this poem on that day
I would have totally done this,
would have taken a page from
the Lemon Shark,
the Texas Indigo Snake,
or the common Blue Jay
and when the going got
rough and she “let into me”
as she did
I would have simply seized
up, rolled my eyes to the
back of my head, and
toppled over,
feigning death.
Again, I’m not proud of
this, but I will (probably)
totally just play dead
next time.
______________________________________________________
Brittany, thank you for having us delve into science today! The moment in your mentor poem of the “plants claw[ing] into her sides, / to keep from spinning off into space” was quite remarkable. I had never thought of “roots” as “claws” before! (I also want to thank you for the delightful time I spent falling down the rabbit hole of YouTube videos watching various animals fake their own deaths.)
Scott, I loved the visual you created at the end- clearly you did your YouTube research! Something about a blue jay rolling it’s eyes and topppong over
makes me laugh!
OMG I’m LOLing over here looking at thanatopsis pictures. We are here for this. The last stanza is excellently, infinitively split! 😀
Wouldn’t this be an incredible trait to have, at just such a moment as this? It is so hard to hear
Is this what an opossum does, too? Just wild!! If only teachers could…
So creative! Loved how you moved us along in your thinking. Your ending stopped me dead in my tracks! Pun intended!
Brittany, thank you for your whimsical science prompt today. I am going to enjoy this and look forward to coming back to it. The three mentor poems were each perfect examples. Thank you for that, and this powerful image from your poem:
Wow:
I think Padma’s concluding line would be a great striking line for a golden shovel.
Tanka Tints
Playful colored eggs
Turmeric-tinted yellow
Brilliantly-beet pink
Ancient art reveals magic
Native dyes life survival
Denise,
It has been a long time since I have colored eggs, but I wish I had used native dyes. Maybe it is something I will try next year. Thanks for the reminder.
Lovely little tanka! I totally forgot to do some egg-dying yesterday, sadness.
Thank you Denise for the idea to use Padma’s concluding lines as a golden shovel poem. I did just that in a modified way.
“Ancient art reveals magic” What a beautiful way to prepare those Easter eggs – and a wonderful tanka, Denise!
Denise, I love your title which immediately lets me know that your poem is going to be full of color. I feel immersed into this wonderful display of Native life and its survival. Brilliant poem!
You brought me dear memories of egg colouring with my children, Denise! We used onion peels, beets, and spinach mostly. Love your final lines: “Ancient art reveals magic / Native dyes life survival.” Thank you for your poem today!
Denise,
I so wish we had nonchemical egg coloring when I was a kid and that I knew about these as an adult.
“Turmeric-tinted yellow
Brilliantly-beet pink”
sound delicious as long as the beets are pickled. I love the tanks form as a celebration a Native ways in the final two lines.
Denise, I love these “Tanka Tints.” Did you tonk with these eggs, too? (Or is that just something that my family did with the “tinted” eggs? Everybody at work is, like, what do you mean you “hit them together” and then what? lol.)
Oh, tell me more. I’m not sure I tonked with them!
Brittany, This is a prompt after the science teacher’s poetic heart. Can’t we love both? In your spinning poem, I find confusion and peace, that juxtaposition of living on a spinning being and feeling no movement.
I stole a line from “brcrandall” Living takes work.
Living takes work–
a heart drums at 82 beats per minute,
oxygen in, CO2 out,
muscles crave protein
while taste buds want sweet candy.
Keeping it all going in harmony
with changing climate is too much
to ponder, so I wonder
at the turtle that spreads out
its legs and arms to leap
into this pond as I pass
saving himself
saving me.
Margaret, what a beauty! I love that all that inner work mostly happens without our input. You have captured that freedom to wonder about other things here.
and that sweet conclusion:
Wow!
Margaret, the blend of complexity and simplicity between all that living work and the simple gesture of jumping into a pond makes this a marvel. And yes, if we ponder it too much, it seems impossible but that is the wonder of the work of life! Beautiful!
Margaret, l laughed at how true this is for me
and I smiled with joy at your sweet observation of the turtle. Love your last four words so much.
BEAUTIFUL. This touched me. Living takes work. You’ve blended your words together so richly. I love the turtle – “saving himself / saving me.” Thank you for writing this!
Margaret, I enjoy how you begin on a more impersonal level in your poem, but then dive into the personal in the second stanza. Life is work and I love how you capture the physical aspects involved with human anatomy in your first stanza, but the image of the turtle is sharp and sudden. Your final lines:
“saving himself
saving me.”
These two lines are so provocative. It makes me question about what does save us in life and our ability to hang on. Perhaps it is simply the beauty and harmony of nature.
I am entranced with the image of the turtle–legs and arms spread wide jumping–and saving you both! Beautiful.
Margaret, you had me at “muscles crave protein / while taste buds want sweet candy.” So true! The ending is another stark realization of who is saving whom? Thank you for sharing!
I love the image of the turtle taking a plunge! They are so much fun to watch – sunning and swimming.
Having just finished a piece on Rachel Carson, I am much more attuned to the relationship of science and nature than I ever was before. Rachel Carson said both literature and science share the same goal as both seek to illuminate truth… your poem proves Rachel’s words. Just beautiful.
Somewhat. late in life,
I’ve become a tulip-lover.
Before now, before yesterday,
I scorned the delicate prettiness
of their flawless, petaled faces,
the perfection of their sharp
green leaves,
and slender, graceful stems
Look at me. Look at me!
they seemed to say.
Aren’t I beautiful? Aren’t I perfect?
Aren’t I perfectly beautiful?
I much preferred the wildflowers
which grow in fields along the road—
the tiny bursts of color peeking out
from snarls of green—
the ones too close
to rushing cars and rumbling trucks—
the ones too stubby to be plucked,
but lovely just the same as they
whisper, slow down, take notice!
There’s beauty all around us!
But yesterday, a young tulip
stood alone,
in a delicate glass vase
set on a wooden table
near a chair-bound woman,
looking a little lost
as she nibbled a lamb chop
with trembling fork set
in gnarly hands,
and thin wisps of white hair
electrified by the cool dry air.
So lovely, the woman said,
when eyes met above
the single flower
set in the delicate glass vase
on the wooden table.
Yes, I agreed, I never liked
tulips much but—
the woman smiled—
and the beauty
of the young tulip
and chair-bound woman
pressed against my heart.
Love the way the last lines bring the blooms forward, Ann.
Now I need to think…have I ever had tulips. Why yes, I do, and they’re being used to blow a kiss to the Great Whatever in appreciation of your poem today.
Oh, what a moment you captured here, Ann. This is gorgeous, the description of the woman is breathtaking, including:
Your description of the wild flowers too is spot on.
The conclusion of the woman and the tulip “pressed against my heart” I’m in love with your whole poem today.
Ann, I love what you shared about Carson and seeking truth. I feel that very strongly too. I love the comparison to tulips and wildflowers, how they grow, how we view them, and how that speaks to a greater truth on beauty and age.
Oh my goodness, Ann. You capture a moment here. The electrified hair, the nibbling of the lamb chop, the gnarly hands and trembling fork. You positively take us to that scene and let us enjoy it, along with the lone tulip – which has been my favorite flower since my aunt and uncle gave me a “Tiptoe through the Tulips” Dutch girl music box when I was in their December wedding at the age of 5. I gave it to their daughter when I got married, as she was the flower girl in my first wedding. There’s something about tulips – – (I will say – – they droop if used in a wedding bouquet without wires, they will droop so much that you can practically see it in the wedding photos). I’m so glad you love them and shared this moment of an older woman who loves them too!
This dear soul helped you see the tulip differently – such joy from a single flower, just a lovely lovely poem. I felt the woman’s frailty, and the ‘treat’ of the tulip. I tend to prefer wildflowers, too – and I loved your imagining, “whisper, slow down, take notice!”
Brittany- this makes my science teacher heart happy!! I work in a small school, so I teach ELA and science and love when they overlap and love the creative writing inspiration!! Your poem is so beautiful and reminds me of Italo Calvino’s book Cosmicomic and the personification of the earth moon interaction is both realistic and accurate and frames it all so beautifully. I love the stanza-
“She keeps me close, enough.
Her gravity,
her force,
the life she cradles,
keeps me from floating away.” oof- those relatable relationships!
My friend and I were laughing at how at no point in anyone’s life is sleep regulated well and that’s my topic today.
Circadian Rhythm
did human’s clocks and
earth’s clock ever synchronize?
when did we feel entitled to hours of rest in a row?
before we lit whale oil lanterns
to keep factories running on girl power?
before candles from animal tallow and bee’s wax?
before torches lit from lightening?
did Neanderthal tribes take turns keeping watch
over those they loved?
was it implanted in our cortex to love watching loved ones sleep
to remain alert to saber tooth threats?
keep that melatonin at bay
keep the fire lit
keep your elders stories and babies’ future safe
so we may all survive
Emily, what a wonderful poem full of questions that inform and cause wonder and love for our shared humanity. I love the three keep lines at the end. “so we may all survive” Lovely.
I love all the wonderings here about time/the circadian clocks…especially,
Awesome poem, Emily! What a neat thought journey here, with so many good questions. I love your ending especially. “keep the fire lit / keep your elders stories and babies’ future safe / so we may all survive.” I love that the stories are part of our survival. Thank you!!
Brittany,
I love your prompt and inspiration. Not being a scientist, I did a wee bit of research and learned something new this morning. Thank you.
preBötzinger complex
breathe in
breath out
a dance conducted by the human brain
rhythmic electrical bursts
coordinating movements between
diaphragm and intercostal muscles
contracting to pull air into lungs
where hundreds of millions
teeny, tiny alveoli shimmer
diffusing oxygen into blood
then muscles relax into exhalation
forcing air outward diffusing carbon dioxide
into a space of other science
a symbiotic sort of thing
and to think this beautiful stuff of life,
a complex named after wine
breathe in
breathe out
Thank you, Shelly! I’ve been in a rabbit hole of online reading this morning thanks to your introduction of preBötzinger complex—symbiosis of neurons, ideas, and breath. It’s fascinating, truly.
Can’t wait for an evening Pinot Noir.
Shelly,
Thank you for taking something so complex and simplifying it through verse. Bravo!
Shelly, I am amazed at the beauty to be found in science-ing our writing. And there’s so much to learn too. I’m going to explore the preBötzinger complex a bit more as I find time (we start the science of language acquisition in 7th grade soon and it involves brain stuff). Wonderfully worded piece today!
Well, your dear poem sent me into research mode! What a great topic – absolutely amazing how we take breathing for granted, when there is so much involved.
Brittany, I love how you used poetry in science and as a mode for formative assessment. Thank you for hosting us today.
peer-reviewed citations
connect correlations of
capriciousness & capacity
confront the science
create in a convivial community
(Boutelier, 2023, p. ?)
Stefani- I really Enjoyed your use of consonance to play with scientific language! You made what seems challenging and sometimes overwhelming language of science play and unite in a convivial community! I love this celebration of science at its best- uniting around the joy of discovery.
Stefani, the science of feedback and positive energy on writers and poetry – – what a lovely way to celebrate this community, and I love all the repeating Cs. See? Visual and Si, yes. I also like that the Cs here, mostly hard Cs are also soft Cs.
Such wonderful alliteration, especially “create in a convivial community.” So fun that your page citation was ?.
Stefani, I love the sound you’ve created through your poem with the hard and soft sounds of c and emphasized with all the s sounds. I had to laugh at your laugh line as though you’re sure to use this poem in some professional article. I appreciate the image of a “convivial community”.
Stefani,
This smorgasbord, or should I say periodic table of /k/ alliteration, culminates in the best way to learn: “create in a convivial community.” That should always be the goal!
Thanks, Brittany. I used to love collaborating with a biology teacher who played around with comic strips and poetry after units on cells, ecosystems, & microorganisms. The glossary of her textbooks provided a buffer of gorgeous language to play with. I really like,
Upon reading your prompt, I pulled Rachel Ignotofsky’s The Wondrous Workings of the Planet Earth from my shelf. I borrowed and word or two and began writing.
Stumped
~b.r.crandall
My grandmother used to call me piss-head.
She was flipping through Reader’s Digest
eating peanut-butter toast,
engrossed in physiology,
renal tubules, & secretion.
The brain is 75% water, she shared,
& your cerebral-spinal fluids
are mostly urine.
A lot of trouble, this life thing.
Living takes work.
Sperm-mucus interface
is basically phlegm, she continued.
You should think about it
the next time you
launch a a goober
from your throat.
Tadpoles.. Maple seeds.
Planaria. Eels. Milt.
The Sun.
mutualism.
And because I hate raking
I bought a home with chopped trees,
stumps left to feed the underground
of worms, shrooms, grubs, and mold.
I like such Kingdoms,
watching ants & potato bugs
construct resorts & casinos from dirt
until northern flickers
slurp them up
like Miso soup.
Cattails, dragonflies, & water lilies.
The pond life,
And yet here
another poem.
Decomposed.
Bryan, ha, I love grandmother wisdom. I like how you flow from this personal story to the present-nature. Thank you for sharing.
Bryan,
The words — and wordplay — in here! A feast for the senses. Especially loved:
“And because I hate raking
I bought a home with chopped trees,
stumps left to feed the underground
of worms, shrooms, grubs, and mold.
I like such Kingdoms,
watching ants & potato bugs
construct resorts & casinos from dirt
until northern flickers
slurp them up
like Miso soup.”
Bryan,
You’ve captured so much in this one poem. I’m drawn to the character of your grandmother and can see her influence as the poem moves from then to now. Your grandmother’s words are especially striking
“The brain is 75% water, she shared,
& your cerebral-spinal fluids
are mostly urine.”
I will be quoting you both today.
Bryan- I want to check out the book that inspired you- thank you for that! I love how you ran with this- your grandma sounds hilariously witty and playful, and that inspiration Is felt throughout. I adore the circle of life you depict in your stumps with the flickers raiding the carefully constructed casinos and resorts! Every image is a world, flitting back and forth between big and small. Thanks for bringing us into your world!
Well Bryan, I think your grandmother would be proud of you, the apple not falling far from the tree and all….and while I don’t share your enjoyment of potato bugs, especially in metaphors about Miso soup, I did throughly enjoy this poem…
My favorite section:
The imagery is so rich with detail and the idea of ant casinos sticks in my mind!
Bryan, I don’t know how you do what you do but I am a huge fan of you and grandma!
Sheer delight and I needed this after my first day back from Spring Break. 🤗
Brittany,
What an awesome idea to help kids truly process the information that has been shared with them. I already sent this idea to our science teachers! I google searched science terms and landed on weather and zeroed in on the tornado since our son was in the path of a tornado in Bowling Green, Kentucky last year that left loss of life and so much property damage in its wake. I tried to create a concrete poem and I am attaching an image of it. Hopefully, it works.
Susan, thank you for sharing the image here, it’s lovely. I also like the personificaiton as well. Thank you for sharing today.
Susan, this was really cool! And love the comparison to a figure skater. 🙂
Susan,
This encounter of wind moving in different directions then spinning itself into a figure skater will stay with me today and likely throughout the coming weeks of spring weather. I love how you capture the movement on the page. Beautifully done.
Susan- I love this metaphorical wonderland!! I love the figure skater metaphor, reframing something scary as graceful and skilled. I love how you put the line breaks into tornado form and tell the story of rising and falling air, telling all parts of the tornado in many forms, as good teachers should! Thanks for sharing your tornado with us!
Susan, I am reading Poetry Pauses by Brett Vogelsinger and I imagine him saying you’ve nailed it! Teaching science through poetry, reviewing science through poetry, mastering new science vocabulary, all of it in a poem and a poem that floooooowwwwwws across the page like the wind! 💨
Brilliant choice to go with a shape/concrete poem. I am in awe!
Powerful!
Brittany, I loved your thought-provoking poem, full of nuanced, layered meaning. Just lovely! I also love that you married creative writing with science class — what a terrific idea! I went whimsical with my poem today, as the title of your prompt inspired. Here’s to the scientific method (of a sort!)!
Body tired, mind is spinning
Drowsy, hazy brainworks thinning
Cotton-muffled, addled thinking
Seems like I’ve spent three days drinking:
Is it stress or problems dire?
Science, surely, helps inquire –
Off to Google, help from tech
To aid this pained insomniac –
Could it be caffeine consumption,
This hyper, wired sleep malfunction?
List of meds I’m scrolling though –
Change of seasons, weather, too?
Scientific method venture –
Observe, and then adjust conjecture –
Then it hits my stuffy head:
Dang – it’s all that Sudafed.
Science healed me, then turned to stress–
Time for nasal med recess.
But Science helped me find the cure:
So, yay, for Science (and our host, for sure)!
Wendy, this is such a fun rhyming couplet poem – with an apt message for our season and those of us who suffer from insomnia who haven’t done the detective work you’ve done and so generously shared with us. That “daytime” versus “nighttime” label on the boxes matters not – – still, we lose sleep and suffer from ill-functioning. Indeed: Yay for Science AND our host!
Wendy, this is fun and relatable. I also love the extra personal plug to Brittany at the end. Hope you feel better soon (if this is present experience;)).
Thanks — it is! At least I have one more vacation day to pack some sleep in now that the mystery’s solved! XD
Wendy, I loved your poem and the movement of the rhyming couplets. Isn’t it the truth – the cure can cause another malady? Allergy season is no joke! Feel better!
Your rhyming couplets are perfect! Such a fun, rhythmic poem!
Wendy, I love how your poem is so rapid when the problems with sleep are so exhausting. I am glad you figured out what was causing the insomnia. Very fun poem with so many clever word plays. I especially enjoyed “Cotton-muffled, addled thinking”.
Good morning, Brittany, and thank you for a prompt that invites us to think of the science of discovery and wonder about the world! I have just gotten my flower presses out of the old barn over the weekend and can’t wait to gather flowers and greenery to press on a long walk one afternoon this week. So much of science is soothing, just pure medicine for the soul. Your gift of a prompt that invites peace is particularly appreciated on this Monday back to work after spring break. Thank you for hosting us today – – your poem makes me think of my own mood swings with the alignment of the celestial bodies with my own gravity and force field added to it. She spins wildly. Today, my poem is a first-word-Golden Shovel Tanka string. I took my striking line as a quote from a birding journal by Vanessa Sorensen: “Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Bloom!
adopt a mindset~
the practice of noticing
pace your amazement
of observing more fully
nature: less is so much more
her covert moments
secret discoveries ~ what
is our big hurry?
its blessings beckoning us
patience blooms on every stem
Kim, beautiful sentiments! Great quote by Emerson, and the Golden Shovel format was a perfect fit for this tranquil, nature-centered poem. Reminded me of a quote by Lau Tzu that hangs in my classroom: “Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.”
Kim, this is one of my favorite quotes! And you did a beautiful job using it in a Golden Shovel. “her covert moments” – so true!
Kim, what a perfect quote to use for this Golden Shovel. I love the reminder of, “less is so much more.” Thank you for sharing today!
“Patience blooms on every stem” I just love this line! A great poem, Kim…and a lesson with remembering!
Kim, I love your poem. Emerson is one of my favorites and the quote you used is a great reminder to look to nature for life’s lessons. You remind me I need to get outside more and slow down. Thanks.
“nature: less is so much more” – so so true! Whenever I stop to look at something blooming, I am astounded by the gorgeous complexity of it all. Lovely golden shovel poem!
Kim, beautiful poem. I love your question in this and the message to slow down and appreciate the beauty around us. I agree that it’s important to adopt a particular mindset to notice beauty. Your final two lines were pure delight: “its blessings beckoning us
patience blooms on every stem”
Kim, Kim, Kim!! Now, you’re inspiring first-word Golden Shovel Tankas!! I love you!
The striking line couldn’t be any more perfect for the message your poem gives. Pace, peace, patience…ahhhhh!
Incredible, how you’ve connected patience and blooms. Nature teaches us if only we’d pay attention.
🌷Much love to you!
Love this reminder to slow down and notice – there’s so much nature would tell us if we would be still enough to listen. Beautiful form – and perfect striking line. It’s a blessing to read, Kim!
Brittany, I have read your poem again and again, taking something different away with me each time. The beauty of the words, the relationship between earth and narrator, the expectation men have of her, and of course, the science. I cannot pick a favorite line or stanza, but this resonates: “She spins wildly/But yet too slow for them/to know her.” I started on a longer piece but ran out of time and will come back to it later. For now:
Starry Night
pinprickled and inked
stars light up the midnight sky
population boom
Jennifer, that short form is just perfect. The title has me singing the song I always hear, and incidentally, somewhere yesterday I scrolled by where someone had posted the only known photograph of Van Gogh as a young man. The pinprickled and inked first line just sets the right backdrop for the light shining through in the second line. Miracles of science in the night sky – – may your stars be in the best alignment on this Monday in April – – your words sure are!
Jennifer, loved the assonance in the first line of this, and the play on the idea in the last line: population boom, indeed — of a country sky sort!
Jennifer,
Your haiku brings images from Van Gogh to summer nights staring at the stars to this YouTube video a professor shared showing migration and population explosion over time. Well done!
Brittany, thank you for this fabulous prompt. I love mixing science up in poetry. There are just so many metaphors to make. I’m also in VA and preparing to go into a middle school right now. I will take this prompt with me and see where it takes me. Thank you so much!
(sorta on prompt? maybe not)
Who was
the first
person
to think:
I could
use oak
galls for
passable
ink?
Who was
the one
who
wrestled
with the
idea
to ground
down the
shell and
dip in
a pen
and wrote
out a note,
then do
it again?
Kevin
Yes, on prompt! Wonderful questions…and so yummy with possibility.
Absolutely on prompt! The science of ink from nature – – and it reminds me of the conversation I had with my grandson as we were driving to the coast for a fishing trip for his 13th birthday. We get into these deep discussions and rescue turtles on the way and things like that, and I said, “Do you realize there’s nothing new under the sun?” He thought for several minutes and we talked about how everything in every major city in the world, everything everywhere, has been here since the dawn of time, it’s just now in a different form with things pulled from the earth to build it. Mind-blowing to both of us, but so is ink from oak galls, when you stop and let it sink in. You remind us today that the first of a thing is the idea for more creative things.
Kevin, I love when I (or my kids) come up with these “who was the firsts” (who was the first person to open a clam and suck out its innards??) — but appreciate how yours were writing-centric. Elegant structure!
This is a delightful poem. I love your minimalist approach to each line – something about it really fits the poem (almost concrete in its own charming way) and makes it fun to read. Definitely on prompt!
Yes! I love the wondering, one of my favorite kinds of poems.
Who was the first person, indeed, Kevin! That question applies to so many items our forefathers and foremothers learned to use for tools, medicine, food…