Jennifer Guyor-Jowett is our host for the March 5-day writing challenge. Jennifer has taught English and Literature for over 30 years to 7th and 8th graders, contributes to the BlinkYA blog, and writes Educator Guides for MG and YA titles. She has written with fellow teachers at Aquinas College as a Summer Writing facilitator and occasionally co-hosts #MGBookChat. Follow her on Twitter @jenjowett .
Inspiration
This idea comes to us from Michelle Burke through the Poetry Foundation. She writes, “We all have words we love simply because of how they sound.” Today, we will move beyond both the connotation and denotation of words to explore aural textures by creating a sound palette.
Process
- Brainstorm several words, both real and imaginary for each of the following categories (crunchy, billowy, soft, hard, sharp, gravelly, smooth, angular, fluffy).
- Choose words based on their sound rather than their meaning (kick might be crunchy, gall might be billowy).
- Write a poem using these sound words. Challenge yourself to think of the words in relation to their aural texture rather than their denotation.
- Highlight words from the sound palette, including some real and some imaginary
- Have fun with this. Lewis Carroll played with imaginary words to great effect.
Jennifer’s Sound Palette:
- Crunchy: chomp, categorize, canny, crack, electric, corkery
- Billowy: blessing, bowlful, imagination, blossoming, promising, bromfully
- Soft: serendipitous, silhouette, shimmering, sandstorm, slippered, salmon, somportent
- Hard: hectoring, heartfelt, atmosphere, duration, huggardly
- Gravelly: gradation, chipper, thunderous, gruffly, gundersone
- Smooth: swarming, shooting, softly, sensual, yellow, hooing
- Angular: righteous, rigorous, empty, twisting, tipidly
- Fluffy: philanthropy, flowering, famously, floundering, fossimossity
Jennifer’s Poem
The Crack Electric (Jennifer Guyor-Jowett)
Ideas blossom into the atmosphere
that is my imagination
like the shooting stars of childhood
sparking into being
one giant flare
a treasure short lived
a surge electric
cracking and thunderous
realized and forming
between fossimossity and reality
bought and sold
a near promise
a wish that almost was
evaporating swiftly
leaving a shimmering trail
hooing its way
across the light-filled expanse
of my mind.
Write
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
POPCORN
Each munchy, crunchy, crackly bite
Takes me back to days gone by
When Technicolor films flickered
On giant white screens against
Darkened skies littered with stars
Like Heston, Hopkins, Martin & Lewis
Hepburn, Andrews, Jones, and Monroe
When Dad’s blue pickup hauled a load
Of chattering children quickly hushed
By gulps of fizzy sodas and handfuls of
Greasy, golden sunny seeds of delight
Turned inside out on a warm summer’s night
With each munchy, crunchy, crackly bite.
That Day
By Christian Pitts Callahan
Walking Nanny across the parking lot toward the hospital, running my hands across her soft skin, I told her how much I loved her. Our foot steps clambered in my ears. So loud, so hard, so uncertain of what was to come.
Yet it was her melodious voice I remember most, assuring me all would be alright. That all she wanted in life for me was to be happy and loved by a man the way I should be loved. She also assured me that this day, of her surgery, was a long time coming. No matter what happened she was in the lords hands.
Then TICK TOCK TICK TOCK like a drummers march the clock went. One hour, then two, then three, then four. How long would it take to hear a word of assurance? To know she was okay? The assurance didn’t come.
Instead, it was the white coat of a doctor that caught my eye. His solemn face approaching the family. My heart raced at his approach. At first I could not hear his words, just my heart thumping loudly.
His words were trying to be filled of hope, but his face spoke louder and more clear. Time was very short. Two days later, my sister and I walked hand and hand to sign the fatal paper that my mom and her brothers could not do. The beep of the machines sounded like hammers to my soul. And as our signatures left the page and the machines turned off, silence embraced us. She was gone.
What a poignant piece filled with indelible moments. You connected me with my own indelible moments with my Nana. Beautiful.
Truncated Transaction
Clink. Chink. Chunk.
Hopeful balm puffle-ing,
assessing fine whisps
of feathery hush.
Clack. Smack. Clickity-Crack.
Slicing pixels of clarity,
flitting specatucular.
Gargogyles wooshing blue,
ploofy flowers,
optimistically
nebulous.
from Day 1
Shelly, Thank you for joining us. Love the sounds here, the music you create with the words and also the punctuation, creating a staccato for us. Ploofy flowers is just perfect and the last word, nebulous, is just right for today.
Shelly,
I can hear your poem as I take in the words. What a song it sings. I love the word nebulous :()
Sundays with You
by Morgan Padilla
Soft and fluffy
Warm and cozy
Blankets piled high
Plush and lazy
Sunshine and hazy
Views from my bed
I snuggle close, my head falls
I nestle into you
These days are precious,
and so are you.
My happy Sunday cuddles.
Morgan, I thoroughly enjoyed your poem It reminded me of my newlywed years. Thanks for this!
Morgan, you paint a sweet moment of joy and comfort. Perhaps, moments like this are all around us, just waiting to be noticed. I love the line, “I nestle into you” and will look for moments and loved ones to nestle into today.
Hi, I’m new here. Never tried writing with a group. I’m a newly retired teacher, a bit nervous to share. Sorry I’m late for Day One.
The Thief
By Nancy White
The scene was not pretty
He slinked sullenly through the summer night
Hands in pockets, his hard heart driven
By insatiable hunger and a strong desire for hellmongering
With a smooth restless charm that smacked of false bravado and stale beer
He softly strode on billowy bubbles of entitlement
That burst erratically
Angular, sharp, he excelled at sneakiness,
slithering sideways, always on guard,
Anticipating the sharp smell of fear
He hastily broke upon the scene
Causing customers to cringe,
Covering their ears to the crunchy crackle,
The spray of gravel as he burst upon them—
BLAM! Like a bomb booming
To a pounding bass beat
He snatched it all, his Godzilla-greed skyrocketing
And strutted away
With everyone’s treasured belongings
Welcome, Nancy! I’m so glad you joined us! I usually post late in the day, so I return to the previous day’s post in the morning.
I love how this prompt reminds all of us as poets to use words with strong sounds. Your poem is a great example of this–the slithering first stanza, the angular second, the crunching third…Your story comes at us so powerfully. We’re in the moment, surrounded by the sounds. Wow.
Oh! Hellmongering! What an incredible word that sits just exactly where it’s needed in this poem. I love his entrance into the first stanza followed by the soft striding on entitlement (I can picture who this is, so many WHOs this could be.). You’ve crafted a clear character and given us the visual and movement and tone in so few words. We are so glad you are joining us!
Welcome! I know it’s not easy to put yourself out there at first, but this community is so safe and encouraging that you will find yourself eager to share, to hear feedback, and to offer feedback.
This poem is so rich in detail. I love
“With a smooth restless charm that smacked of false bravado and stale beer
He softly strode on billowy bubbles of entitlement
That burst erratically”
Good morning and welcome! I am late responding because I always check back on the previous day’s prompt to see what I may have missed.
Wow! What a start! Were you describing my ex-husband?
“He slinked sullenly through the summer night
Hands in pockets, his hard heart driven
By insatiable hunger and a strong desire for hellmongering”
You’ve described so many “thieves” and hellmongering, sneaky, slithering, insatiable people/objects/experiences. Love the sounds of the words, the alliterations, and the vivid imagery.
Happy you’ve joined us!!
Hellmongering may become my new favorite word. You write with energy and spirit. The alliteration and creative words pulled me in. Welcome!
Peace Personified by Jenny Sykes
Feathers descend upon me.
The scene vast and unknown.
Anxiety enters,
Heart races.
A shadow stalks nearby
Scheming, plotting, calling.
Finding consciousness,
My body tingles, vision hazy,
Puzzled.
Comprehension refuses.
An aroma lumpaciously drifts in-
Lemon, vanilla, lavender, clean.
My lungs expand.
I exhale.
The shadow now stands before me.
Sparkling fillaments offer
Matatystic and celestial celebration.
Open hands extend
Ambiguous floatimisy floods in.
We touch.
Splash!
A deluge erupts
Dreams, whatcouldhaves, memories, stories, alohamora
Appear before me.
Focus returns.
Tears gather, yet one escapes.
A smile stretches across my face
I cringe.
The muscles sensitive from misuse
The shadow returns the gesture, but for her
It’s easy.
Feathers embrace the shadow
As a cloak providing refuge.
Her pinkie clasps mine.
Immediate comfort and healing prevails
I am home.
Jenny, I love your use of created words! “lumpaciously drifts in” works so naturally within the piece as does “Matatystic and celestial celebration.” The breath of life (expanding lungs, inhaling) offered from that pinkie promising individual shows the strength of the connection between the two. The placement of alohamora and use of it as a threshhold in the middle of the piece reflects the balance between the two places. And I love the cloak of refuge. Thanks so much for sharing today!
Wow, the sense of confusion and wonder and the awakening of senses— made me think of meeting my son again someday in heaven.
Jenny,
Such beautiful language . . . quite a mix of invented words and real ones.
“celestial celebration” sits happily in my heart.
Jenny, I love the movement of this piece, from anxiety to comfort… like a decision to acknowledge what is painful to accepting relief from a shadow. I see deep meaning-making and love the shifting of the feathers from the poet’s self to the shadow. And the pinkie hug at the end!
Judy’s Poem – sorry for the late post/ trying to get back into writing again! I enjoyed all of your poems so much and feel very intimidated by all you wonderful writers. Anyway, here’s my humble submission.
Better Days
The creamy clouds floating through a magical sky
With their curvy, poofy, silky shapes
Dragons, bunnies, fairies, smiling faces.
Poof! A billowy wind swooshes them along.
Sitting in a cushy chair, sunshine beating on my shoulders
Looking upward at the glistening beams of light
Streaming downward, like a welcome sign
Of better days to come.
Judy,
This is beautiful. I love “sunshine beating on my shoulders”. I could almost feel the warmth as I read that line. The positivity in the poem is wonderful, and the simile, “…glistening beams of light/Streaming downward, like a welcome sign” really tied it all together. Looking forward to reading more of your work.
Judy, this is the the perfect image for us today; we need the feeling of “better days to come.” It invites us to a place we all want to be – sunshine days and magical skies. I love your use of billowy and swooshes – very reminiscent of the movement of the clouds. This is a true “welcome sign.” I’m glad you shared this with us!
Judy,
Thank you for the beautiful, hopeful poem. It was great to wake up to it this morning.
I love these lines:
“Looking upward at the glistening beams of light
Streaming downward, like a welcome sign
Of better days to come.”
Welcome, Judy! This response is late because I usually go to bed well before seeing all of the previous day’s posts. I’m thrilled to read your first poem with us. I love it! It is more than a “humble submission” my dear. I love how you used the clouds as a reminder of better days to come. In the times we are in now, we all need this reminder, the wind blows and “swooshes them along” and it will do the same for us. This too shall pass.
Welcome!
When i was younger, I was
sharp, edgy and my body whispered
and hummed in accordance with my thoughts.
Now that I’m slightly fluffy and middle-aged,
my body says, “ummmph ” when I get up from
the squashy settee.
When my eyes are bigger than my abdomen,
my tummy says, ” slow down on the crisp
angular chips. Instead try globular berries.”
When I stoop down, my fluffy bottom
reminds me to lengthen my spine and
reinforce my kneecaps.
My smooth epidermis cries out
sometimes for moisture, sustenance, and
aromas that entice.
Seana,
Friend, my fluffy self needs to find the globular berries – oh, what a lovely expression of contrast between the younger carefree food days and now. You rang my bell with the “ummmph” on getting up. Angular, globular, hummed, squashy settee, whispered….fun sound words that conjure images of ourselves in your shared experience. Fist bump!
Seana, thank you for playing with the shapes and sounds of the words. The contrast between your younger self (sharp, edgy) and your fluffier, middle-aged self is reflected in the angularity of the chips and the globular berries – you had fun with those words; we can feel it. I love the line “my body whispered and hummed.”
Oh, I can relate to this— from fluffy bottom to dry skin and achy joints. Growing older and away from the angular, indeed!
Seana,
You created a beautifully sounding poem with loads of imagery.
I love ” my body whispered
and hummed in accordance with my thoughts.”
I appreciate the message and I can relate.
Good morning Seana! Sorry I missed this last night, you know I am one for an early bed time. Sooo happy I came back to your poem this morning, especially since I just put some salve on my arm. How does sleeping cause me to awaken with aches? LOL, this aging thing is no joke.
Your choices of words for your body and the foods you eat couldn’t have been any better. I relate completely to:
my body says, “ummmph ”
my tummy says, ” slow down on the crisp
angular chips. Instead try globular berries.”
my fluffy bottom
reminds me to lengthen my spine and
reinforce my kneecaps.
Listen to our bodies!! Listen and respond accordingly.
Thank you, Seana! Take good care of your precious body and soul.
I’m chuckling as I read this. My fluffy bottom often reminds me about my spine and kneecaps!! Love the luscious ness of this!
Kinesthetic accident
Clackity recalcitrant
Crunchy antioxidant
Woosh of bulbus Hufflepuff
Powder howl floofy fluff
Billow pillow poof enough
Wispy vispy vulva fur
Murmur shhhh for shy for sure
Softly mushroom whiff demure
Cordon knackered dunder trunk
Dank curmudgeon canker dunk
Hard deject concoction thunk
I’m laughing even as I put together the words into meaning! My favorite—powder howl floofy fluff!
Utterly no meaning! Just noise! <3
I literally could have written Gayle’s comment verbatim!
Allison!!! I am laughing for so many reasons. 1-powder howl floofy fluff. 2-Woosh of bulbous Hufflepuff. 3-All the silly sounds that flowed from saying it aloud. Brilliant fun! My students would probably get a kick out of this. My sister and I used to send each other crazy Wednesday messages every morning that were basically nonsensical words that would give us an early morning laugh. This poem reminds me, it’s time to do that again. My sister and I could surely use a few morning giggles.
Thanks so much for this poem today.
I was laughing…then I got to the wispy line and was glad I wasn’t drinking anything because I would have been back at the school lunch table where we laughed so hard milk came out of our noses. This is pure fun and laughter!
Allison, I always love what you bring us. I’m going to try not to read too much into your words as the “wispy vispy vulva fur” is taking me down pathways that might get me into trouble – but girl, did I laugh at that. I am so glad you had fun with the sounds. Every line is an orchestra of words. I can’t decide which line I love most.
I have to tell you that the first word I thought of in my “soft” column was vulva because my little sister (age 4?) used to say it over and over because she loved the feel of the word. Softest word ever!
Allison,
As I was reading your poem, I found myself snickering. I could also “hear” the words as I read to myself, a true sound palette here. The first line pulled me in. I started thinking about all of my own “Kinesthetic accidents”. Then the “Powder howl floofy fluff”, “Hard deject concoction thunk” at the end seemed to echo the first lines intention (as I saw it) in a strange, yet welcoming way. I especially like the final stanza. Something about the line “Dank curmudgeon canker dunk” stopped me and made me think. I re-read it several times just to hear the pleasant flow, and sound it made. Thanks for sharing your writing. It was the perfect start to my day.
For some reason “crunchy antioxidant” made me want to giggle. Love your play with word combos. Being a Hufflepuff who is somewhat bulbous tickled my funny bone as well!
Allision . . .
the sound is rich and engaging.
I’m drawn to “Softly mushroom whiff demure”
When my back cracks and cricks
I feel 93 years old.
Why can’t I get out of bed
without arghing and oofing?
Seriously?
What happened?
The fact that it started in the middle of the night
with no straining or hefting from me
makes me want to
howl at the moon-
in pain, of course.
I lumber down the hall
groaning and shifting my weight
from one foot
to the other
wondering,
if this too,
shall pass.
Errggg!
I read a wonderful essay years ago about how at a certain age movement demands sounds! Even standing up takes a grunt or a sigh. THANK you for this mirror of a poem. I hear you, friend. I hope you feel better soon.
Your poem brought a smile to my face! I can just imagine all of those aches and pains requiring a matching groan to match. I love the “howl at the moon”!
Mo,
I literally feel your pain, but mine is in my hips each morning. I set a goal to exercise every day the first 100 days of this year. I have not missed a day. Friends are impressed, but what they don’t know is I have no choice if I’m going to be pain-free at any point during the day.
Favorite diction: “cracks, cricks, arching, offing.” I’m using those words tomorrow morning! If you hear a loud “Errggg” you’ll know it’s just me.
I was there at
Seriously?
What happened?
All those people who warned me things would start heading south or falling off or hanging by a thread – their voices are ringing. Your images are clear – I see you doing the grunt shuffle as you describe. Feel better. I love this!
Trying to ignore my aches this morning as I read this (and telling myself they are normal aches and not viral aches). The line of lumbering down the hall resonates for those of us who first struggle in the morning. I love the arghing and oofing that goes along with that. I hope you are on the mend!
Pain that comes from out of nowhere and settles in your back or hips— all too familiar. Lumbering is a great word to describe getting up in the morning.
Mo,
I feel ya!! When I go from sitting to standing to walking, I have to pause a sec to engage things so I can move without looking a decrepit old lady.
I love the line “no straining or hefting from me.”
Good morning, Mo!
What a perfect description of my body today!
So happy I came back to read yesterday’s posts that I had missed.
When my back cracks and cricks
I feel 93 years old.
Why can’t I get out of bed
without arghing and oofing?
Oofing is the best word ever! And yes, what happens in the middle of the night?
“wondering,
if this too,
shall pass.
Errggg!”
My mantra for the time we are in: This too shall pass. Just wondering if when the passing comes I will feel relief.
Beautiful and funny because it’s true.
In the deep, bracken water,
If you listen closely,
You’ll hear them
Snicker, crinkle, biscuit.
A wish fish and crack,
A kerfuffle,
A skirmish,
With a womp,woah, huh, grumph,
They grumble and bramble through
The wave,
Slide on sorbet,
Flow unflummoxed,
Briney and pickled,
Never to be heard from again.
These luscious sounds! I do love “s” sounds….they get readers in touch with taste and feel. Kerfluffle! I love that word.
You’ve created an imaginative world filled with the wondrous sounds of snickers, crinkles, womps, and grumphs. You lead us in to this world slowly, with prepositional phrases and dependent clauses, almost as if we are tip-toeing in to listen with you. I’m longing for spring peepers to sound the call of warmer weather and your poem reminds me of them but also of fictional creatures dwelling in liquid, dark places. And I love the “slide on sorbet.” So glad you gave us this today.
Shaun, your whole poem is a feast for the senses! I love it! Would you be open to me using it with my students as a mentor text?
Of course! Thank you!
You have created a world here! Wonderful, mysterious world!
I love how you were able to play so nimbly with sounds–and nonsense–while still telling a story! WIWI (Wish I’d Written It)
It would be fun to guess what they are. I’ll bet we all had different ideas. Alka seltzer frogs? I love the feel of this – like I’m entering Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride and I have no idea what I’m
About to see. Genius!
Love this!
what a great sound “They grumble and bramble through” has!
Taipei
A concrete jungle
Gritty onyx raking
Against cushions of humidity
My Narnia
Nothing like my Princess Jasmine
Jelly sandals creasing
With each step
Wrinkle, crinkle
Tapping on a trapezoidal
Tessellation
My Hello Kitty windbreaker
Floats like mousse
And beating on it
Two braids
Whipping in the breeze
Wholmp
Wholmp
Wholmp
Ohhh! “Tapping on a trapezoidal tessallation” is lovely! That entire last stanza is perfection – visually, sonorously. The action of the whipping braids with your created word (wholmp, wholmp, wholmp) is so effective. Thank you for painting this image with your words!
Emily, I am stunned by the vividness of your final stanza. (“Mousse” was a word that turned up in my own “soft words” column!) I love the sounds you have combined here to share a slice of your childhood. Wow.
HI Emily, and again your writing does something to me that I appreciate more than I can explain. The visuals, the sounds, the odd familiarity I find in “Floats like mousse/and beating on it/Two braids/Whipping in the breeze”
Then the funniest sound of all: Wholmp!
So happy you’re here for March!
See below. I moved my note, but couldn’t delete this one.
Graveling
“To gravel (graevel):cause annoyance”
They made the announcement: two weeks off.
The kids had been annoying, anyway.
Two weeks off will be nice, I said.
Social distancing, they said.
Soft, marshmallow-pillowy
Time to clean, relax, organize,
KonMari, hygge, Swedish funeral cleaning.
A good thing.
But
No. Here are the words to describe my mood:
Bedeviled, chevvied, miffed, chafed
Nettled, ruffled, miffed, ruffled, peeved
Rankled, vexed, beset, riled
Graveled.
So many words for this mood
So many more than for the positive (like soothed).
Perhaps because it is so much easier to notice
The sharp bits. Angular, square-peg-in-round-hole bits
Sharp cornered, pointed.
I like sharp words.
Two weeks off.
Swedish funeral cleaning,
Here I come.
(I, too, can’t seem to wrap my head around the virus thing—thus, my rant!)
What a beautiful way to use those words (bedeviled, ruffled, rankled, graveled). You have sent me on a rabbit hole hunt for graevel (which I was unable to find and am now guessing it might be a Swedish surname?). I did, however, learn that gravel’s background connects it to sand, seashores, and possibly pie. I’m also curious as to what a Swedish funeral cleaning is. Thank you for providing me with curiosity and new knowledge today in the midst of your “rant,” which I loved, by the way. I could relate to your second late immensely – it’s that time of year. I love that you played with the sound of social distancing and contrasted that sharply with your word mood.
It was a drop down in synonym.com, with one of those letters that doesn’t appear in English! It does seem Scandinavian in origin. Swedish funeral cleaning is clearing out the Junk before you die so your kids don’t have to! Related to the simplification thing, I guess.
Thank you. My mom has been performing the Swedish funeral cleansing ritual every week of her life – now I know what to tell her she’s doing!
Gayle, poem-ing is processing, and I love that this is a safe space to rent among friendlies. What I notice in all your bedevil, ruffle, rankle, vex, and rile is the E and D. I hope this suffix signals past or passed for all as we move into safe spaces. Thank you for teaching about swedish funeral cleaning, too.
I love that phrase Swedish funeral cleaning. And, I’m glad you put these thoughts into a poem. I’ve been trying to recover from the shock and anxiety I saw spread yesterday as students learned in a quick PA announcement that school was cancelled for them for five weeks. I went right into re-assurance mode. Don’t worry, sweetie. We will see you online. But, my words just seemed shallow. I wanted to make my students feel OK. And, I couldn’t. Yes, cleaning! I will be cleaning.
This line: “KonMari, hygge, Swedish funeral cleaning”! I love how you used this prompt to LOUDLY explore this weirdest of weekends. Graveled.
Gayle,
I soooo appreciate that you put so many words into this poem that many of us can relate to. I love how you took the palette that Jennifer suggested and really tapped into the FEEL of the words.
Peace Divine
by Stacey Joy
Panic
Plucking away
Fibers of your smile
Truncating prayers
As undulating heartbeats
Rattle and trottle your spirit
Masked madmen slither
Into your dawn to dusk
Spewing
Botulinum toxins
Over your grocery cart
Your gas station
Your favorite cafe
Your neighbor’s greeting
Your classroom
Your snakeskin fingers
Making your faith in humanity
Oozeebboozeebb clop
And glut in mustard seeds
One lone seed falls
Onto balmy palm soil
Your hands receiving it
To take root
Savory splendor sprouting
Piquant prayer of praise
Gratitude
This moment of wellness
This day’s torrential downpours
Cleansing your dirty hurting Earth
This knowing
That God brings peace
In the midst of
Prastinktidy
Oh, Stacey! This is incredible! I love this on so many levels. There are sound chucks I love, images I love, and ideas I love. I especially appreciate these lines:
“Panic
Plucking away
Fibers of your smile
Truncating prayers
As undulating heartbeats
Rattle and trottle your spirit”
and
“Making your faith in humanity
Oozeebboozeebb clop
And glut in mustard seeds”
You really combined sound, ideas, and feelings very effectively!
Oh, the sounds here, Stacey, in such fabulous words (prastinktidy, trottle – love that one!). And the imagery elevates that with the plucking of fibers of a smile and the lonesome seed falling into receiving hands. You have such a powerful stanza beginning with “masked madmen slither.” Having them spewed over (interesting use of the word here) your neighbor’s greeting really gives us pause. Our Earth is truly hurting. Thank you for sharing!
Stacey,
You’ve written a very inventive verse. I’m not sure where to begin describing what I love most, so let’s start w/ tone. There’s a biting back quality here I really like: “Truncating prayers…Rattle and trottle your spirit.” These remind me of Macbeth’s inability to pray. “Slither” and “ Spewing / Botulinum toxins”
remind me we’re all in a state of suspicion of others. We’ve had rain (literally) here today, and I’ve been thinking about its cleansing power, and so I’m glad to see you end on a hopeful tone and reminding us
“God brings peace
In the midst of
Prastinktidy”
Powerful, Stacey! The hope of one seed in the last stanza….and the lines of alliteration and the faith of cleansing and hope – this is the message that we all needed today.
One lone seed falls
Your hands receiving it
To take root
Savory splendor sprouting
This moment of wellness
This day’s torrential downpours
Cleansing your dirty hurting Earth
This knowing
That God brings peace
I do have images of the Lorax…..with his one word: unless. He is lurking, urging all of us to care a whole awful lot.
Wow:
Fibers of your smile
Your snakeskin fingers
Oozeebboozeebb (pretty sure Beelzebub is hidden in this word)
I love your mix of meaning and pure nonsense.
The vivid sounds from your poem are still ringing in my mind! I especially love the made up words.
“One lone seed falls
Onto balmy palm soil
Your hands receiving it
To take root”
These lines were breathtaking. I love the imagery of the seed falling into your palms. Beautiful!
Stacey, I love the words your chose! My favorite lines are the ones near the end, ” Cleansing your dirty hurting Earth……God brings peace, in the midst of prastinktidy..” I love how you painted a picture of the germs spreading all over our lives… thanks for the inspiration. Reading all these amazing entries are helping to inspire me.
CACOPHONY!
Cantankerous clattering and clamorous sounds
Reverberate, blast, and blare all around
Clutter and crowd the airways today
Nowhere to run or to just get away
Let’s slip into silence,
Sing softly and pray
It’s even okay to croon
That all will be well and real soon
Let’s mellow our minds
Swing and sway
Share something yummy
Sweeten the tummy
Help where you are
Don’t have to go far
Let’s slip into silence
Sing softly and pray
That all will be well and real soon
Jennifer, Thanks for getting us off to a good start this month of madness. CACOPHONY was one of my middle school students’ favorite “new words” and this poetry challenge gave me an opportunity to use the word. They also loved playing with sound words when we were learning that “onomatopoeia” has a MAT in the middle. Third, they got a kick out of making up their own words to imitate sounds., because it gave them a reason to “misspell” words. 🙂
Wish I had had your aural textures assignment when I was teaching middle school! It was fun!
Anna, yessss! All will be well and real soon. I want the “real” and the “well” SOON! Love how happy your poem made me feel. I laughed at “it’s even okay to croon” because I am the worst singer but I know that the songs I sing of praise are loved by our Lord, even though they sound like crap to everyone else. LOL. I especially enjoyed “let’s mellow our minds/swing and sway” and all the alliterations throughout. It’s bliss!!!
Stay safe and be well!
You’ve captured the harshness of our reality in all those crunching, hard sounds – cantankerous, clattering, and clamorous and then manage to slip in that silence with soft singing and mellowing minds. I love the movement you bring with those sounds which made me want to swing and sway right along with you. Thank you for bringing us some peace today.
Simply beautiful!
Love the lines:
“Let’s slip into silence
Sing softly and pray
That all will be well and real soon”
Anna,
Your first verse capture how I’ve been feeling this month:
“ Cantankerous, clattering, clamorous, Reverberate, blast, blare, Clutter, crowd” create a cacophony in my head. I, too, feel there’s “Nowhere to run or to just get away.”
I love the way poetry allows me to “slip into silence.”
Your repeating line is reassuring to us that things will return to normal soon. While this is a stressful time for us, what a powerful reminder that it will be better – and real soon. For the time being, we can make the most of those moments – sharing food with others and praying! You always put a smile on my face
What wonderful rich, crispy, soft sounds. I love it! The movement from cantankerous to pray to croon. Really fun and meaningful. Thank you for this.
Anna,
What a timely message! This is such an important reminder during a time of fear and the unknown. Thank you! I love the final stanza’s lines: Let’s slip into silence/Sing softly and pray/Tat all will be well and real soon.
I plan to do this today! Thanks again for sharing your beautiful words!
Jennifer,
What a wonderful inspiration for a poem. Too often, I don’t think of the SOUND of my words, but just the feeling. So, while this was quite a challenge, I appreciated it so much.
Waking up in a very uncertain world this morning to have this community to share creations with was quite a blessing.
Your poem is beautiful. The melody created just sings but there is also such a skillful cohesiveness. I especially love these lines:
hooing its way
across the light-filled expanse
of my mind.
The uplifting nature of this online writing community benefits us in so many ways. Thank you for sharing your time and thoughts this morning. I was hoping to offer a new way to look at words, and this work pushes us into other layers of sound. Glad that it challenged a bit and that you found beauty in it.
Jennifer, thank you for such a sweet prompt today. I’m anticipating a week of reparation in my writing after all the chaos of the week. It’s been awful to say the least, but so grateful for wellness and opportunities to share with our writing community.
I adore this:
(like the shooting stars of childhood
sparking into being
one giant flare
a treasure short lived)
It brings me joy to remember how sparks and shooting stars accurately related to my childhood, yet short lived.
And this:
(between fossimossity and reality
bought and sold) Of course FOSSIMOSSITY should be a word. I’m not embarrassed to say I looked it up. It’s exactly what works! It flowed off my tongue so magically.
Looking forward to creating my lists and my poem!
Ha! I have been looking up words this morning too. There is joy in that. I am so glad you are here, Stacey, and look forward to what you bring us today!
The shooting stars of childhood is such a perfect phrase…or title. Stars is big now on the title landscape. Chapbook for you?
Swamppering swatches of verdurity soak,
drossoming in a plickity plop pool.
Cinereal sky blankets of aqueossness
drip incessant crystalline beads
blurring murky in muddled puddles
suffocating sproutings ‘n’ seedlings
yearning phosphorescency.
*had some fun with the thesaurus today, but took liberty with suffixes.
Fun, fun, fun!! In the middle of the night, my two sweet pups decided for a potty break. I opened the door, and what I saw could be described in your poem: “Swamppering swatches of verdurity soak!” Needless to say, they didn’t cross the threshold to experience the “Cinereal sky blankets of aqueossness.” Thanks for this bright spot in our morning!
How I loved slipping into your writing this morning, Sarah! Surrounding myself in the sounds of your imagery, the swamppering and plickity plopping, was beautiful. I found myself spending time with each word, letting the feel of them soak in. Thanks for sharing your outdoor view with us today. I’m glad you had fun with this – I love when students delve into traditional resources, like a thesaurus, to explore what’s new and to create. Both your use of this and Linda’s idea to close her eyes are great suggestions for teachers as they allow their students to create too.
Sarah,
The sound of this is so incredible and of course the images really work!
I love the “blurring murky in muddled puddles” . . . how various sound devices work to make that line sing.
Phosphorescency–what a word! It’s right up there with Jolie’s seputugenarian sweetheart! I like sproutings ‘n seedlings too.
BTW, I enjoyed your podcast with Allison. It was really nice to hear both your voices and hear Allison’s perspective as guest host.
Thank you, Linda. Will you email me a picture of you? I’d love to exchange your avatar for your face…if you’d like. sarah.j.donovan9@gmail.com
It’s simply beautiful, Sarah! I have so enjoyed seeing your posts of wildlife through your windows, and this bro ga the beauty of words about sky and water to the images. Your wordplay is rhythmic and shows us the view of tranquil peacefulness.
Brought. Not bro ga. I reread and realized I inadvertently used a nonsense word…..
Snake Rocks
“Ahem” my memory calls to me
As it ratchets back to young memories
With my great aunt and great uncle.
Having no children of their own,
They had me.
Fine flowing wispy hair twisted around
Ears in front of the monotonous window unit
As baby teeth crunched on Swiss Cheese
Mouse Crackers.
Hammering, scraping sounds whisper from
Outside the window as puffy curtains
Billow in the arctic breeze
Of an Alabama July afternoon.
Carpet pads little feet as the
Screen door whooshes behind me and
Traps the chill inside.
A path of chalky unblunted stones line the
Doorstep and my eyes are giant in
Amusement and wonder.
“They’re snake rocks, “ Uncle Mecer
Ticks at me. “They keep snakes
Out of the house.” Puzzled, I choose a
Miniature boulder as dusty white
Covers my impressionable fingers.
“Whoa, you’ll tun into a snake,” he
Impassively warns me as more
Stones fill the pocket of earth and
His crafty smiles begins.
Hooting, “I’ll find one,” I scamper off only to
Return with a bewitched serpent that
Spouts crystal water throughout the
Lush green yard.
My heart longs for those wistful, easy, uneventful summer days.
– Laura Douglas
Laura, I love all the visuals you give us that center us into your memory. The billowing curtains on the July Alabama afternoon, the fine flowing wispy hair, and the metaphorical bewitched serpent. And the sounds! The whooshing of the screen door, the hammering and scraping, and the gentle “ahem” nudging you into your memory. I yearn for those simply childhood days as well. How wondrous that you had an aunt and uncle who also had you! Many thanks for sharing this with us.
Laura,
While the inspiration was to create beautiful sound (and you do . . . Hammering, scraping sounds whisper from
Outside the window as puffy curtains), the memories this poem captures are what really grabbed me. Nostalgia is both comforting and bothersome to me today.
Laura, it is fond memories like these that will help sustain us through these times. Question: is the “serpent that spouts crystal water” the garden hose? Or something more sinister?
Lol. It’s the water hose. I’d cry if I saw a real snake.
Laura, you put us in your moment with the Alabama afternoon, trapping the chill inside. Those snake rocks – I’m dying!! And we can all see that uncle who loves to joke. It’s perfect – And then the bewitched serpent – you found one! Knowing you personally helps to see what a wonderful influence your uncle had in your witty personality!
I love this sass:
Hooting, “I’ll find one,” I scamper off only to
Return with a bewitched serpent that
Spouts crystal water throughout the
Lush green yard.
I am loving the imagery you have created with your poem. I feel as if I am right there with the teller of this story.
“Carpet pads little feet as the
Screen door whooshes behind me and
Traps the chill inside.“
These lines just blew me away. I can imagine the pads beneath my feet and the sound of a whooshing screen door. Thank you for sharing this poem – I’m scrolling up to read it again!
Don’t Worry, Be Happy
Jolie Hicks
The melodious lyric
Harpoons the timely message
Spearing hearts and mind
Searing conscious choices,
“Don’t Worry, Be Happy.”
The muttering mom
Mumbles her heart-felt fear
Lashing children and adults alike
Grating the repetitive chant,
“Please, wash your hands.”
The philanthropic professor
Primes the haggardly pupil
Promising prompts and programs
Promoting the inevitable,
“We’re going online.”
The sardonic small-business owner
Revolts against the isolation
Raging rants and reasons
Rehearsing the reality,
“How will I pay my bills?”
The septuagenarian sweetheart
Gasps for every, single breath
Gagging coughs and ragged heaves
Grappling the grasp of this “cold,”
“Will I ever heal?”
The distant political ally
Jockeys for position
Rendering big business “results”
Spellbinding the little guy,
“Don’t Worry, Be Happy!”
Jolie, thank you for celebrating your sounds with us this morning, for creating refrains and lyrics for the repetitive words we’re now hearing, and for your use of “don’t worry, be happy” here. I can so relate to the muttering mom. I reminded my own every morning to wash their hands. My younger son told me not to worry as he was using a napkin to handle this before he ate. My anxiety skyrocketed immediately as “that isn’t enough” clamped my brain, and then plummeted when he said he was using it as the barrier between his hands to pick up his food. Thanks for giving us these snippets into individual scenarios. Your use of such strong verbs (harpoons, spearing, searing, lashing, revolting) really brings this situation home.
Jolie,
Oh, this is wonderful! You hit on so many facets of the current state of things. Each stanza strikes another audience. I love how the middle three stanzas rely so heavily on alliteration in a patterned way. VERY powerful.
I love the way you frame political rhetoric w/ that annoying song. I’m not much for platitudes, and the way the song works to emphasize the rhetorical moves we hear, and moves from what surely is now a cliche (Don’t worry, be happy.) to emphasize the very real concerns of people is both satisfying and brilliant. I also love the concrete nouns: lyric, mom, Professor, owner, etc. These make the people real.
A celebration of alliteration! It’s amazing how many matching sounds you have found to poetically describe the feelings of the day. And, props for septuagenarian sweetheart! Wow!
You’ve done it—been in my mind. I love the irony of the title. You’ve caught each and every lament, with beautifully chosen words. The next to last stanza pushes up against the last, making it even more potent. If only everyone cared…
This silly poem describes the morning ritual in my house. I may rewrite later to capture the chaos happening in real time, right now.
“Cat Walk“
Creeping kitty
Picks and paws
Her way around
Stair rails and halls
In search of water
On night’s stand
Across my forehead
She will land
Then bounce and
Bobble, wobble too
‘Till I awake
To find that cat
Sipping, slurping
From my glass!
Sweet liquid nectar
She laps and drinks
My H2O,
A drink sublime
This liquid gold
No longer mine.
For after cat
I will not drink.
I turn and sigh
And let heart sink.
—Glenda Funk
Glenda, awww how I love this poem and your sweet kitty cat! “Bounce and bobble, wobble too” is the most accurate description of my own cat in the morning. Really cute how she lands on your forehead. I just love it. I can’t imagine a rewrite, it’s purrrrfecto!!
Oh, sweet kitty! I can envision her picking and pawing her way through your life, paws up and down in a precise and finicky way (on subsequent reads, I found the rhyme, which added to the back and forth of the creeping kitty). But then we experience the bouncing and bobbling as she enters your domain. How fun that she shares in your nighttime water. We allow our four-legged family members to be a part of so much of our lives and they return the favor. This piece is the perfect light-hearted read for today, amidst so much heaviness.
Glenda,
Such incredible sound AND imagery!! You are so gifted.
I love the
“Then bounce and
Bobble, wobble too”
Ha! Oh, I love it. My cat likes to wake me as well with his routine…which actually is the routine he’s given me since I respond. I totally identify with the love of the annoyance of the furry little beasts we love so much. My favorite phrase just might be “bobble, wobble too” LOL. It’s great.
Life is not the same without our spoiled babies. And there is such satisfaction in their mischief! Picks and paws her way around stair rails – such imagery. I can see the sleek cat movement – on the prowl, looking so up to nothing and all the while up to everything. Bright side: it’s not your wine glass. Water flows freely ?
Glenda, although your poem is about your cat, it makes me think of my schnauzer, Abby. She only likes to drink from cups, not bowls. I know you have one, too. Is Snug a cup drinker?
No. Snug has a refillable water bowl that provides a constant flow of fresh, filtered water from the fridge. If I give Snug a cup of water, he’ll drink it, but I think he likes washing his beard in his water bowl.
Well, I couldn’t get it out of my head, so I worked it in. This is so random as I tried to work in words from my palette while giving voice to the uncertainty and fear in my heart.
Corona
it used to be a beer
“Find your beach”
and a lime
The new connotation has changed
our lives, our worldview,
our perspectives
forever.
With a slap
to my face
my heart
my soul
the luminosity of my daily life
has dimmed
Feckless fear
has a noxious grip
on the collective psyche of
the world.
No more nonchalance.
Some call it panic
Have we entered a labyrinth
leading us to solitude
even isolation
A thistle pokes
my skin
a scab forms
I grimace as I think of the Band-aid
The uncertainty builds
and builds
Yank it off and cancel
everything
I want to cherish the
cascade of moments and memories
but we seem left to an empty void
of nothingness.
Does the eye in the sky
want us to slow down
ponder the Roman Empire,
the Aurora Borealis,
the gossamer gauzes
of nature all around.
Social distancing
Remote communication
Bubble those hands
Time to dig deep
Put the fear and anxiety
aside
Turn inward
Turn to each other
Turn to God.
An epiphany
We only have now
We only have now
A denouement
of the After.
what will the After be?
Writing about what’s on our minds assists us in alleviating the stresses and you do so thoughtfully and with intention (and a bit of humor in there too – Corona time). “Gossamer gauzes of nature” is so beautifully written – it’s visual, it sings of the exquisiteness and delicacy of our world. I love the use of “bubble” as the verb in “bubble those hands” – it’s intentional and direct while easily visual. Your repetition of the epiphany (“we only have now”) causes us to pause and take note. I, too, wonder what will the After be – I’m envisioning a whole new world where we care for each other and what’s important. Thank you for sharing!
I thought about writing about COVID-19, too. It’s certainly on my mind. I think your poem captures much of the chaos w/ strong fiction, such as “feckless fear,” and “noxious grip.” The “labyrinth” metaphor reinforces the uncertainty of these days, but it’s the image of the virus of reactions to it as a scab we pick and make worse through our picking that is my favorite. I also think this is an opportunity to turn to one another but find it ironic being online is the way.
I had the same inclination as you to write about the pandemic. I, especially, appreciate your “eye in the sky,” forcing us to appreciate life’s gifts—history, beauty, and the possible after life (“gossamer gauzes”). Well done.
Susan,
So many beautiful images and sounds, indeed. Love this challenge.
Feckless fear
has a noxious grip
on the collective psyche of
the world.
No more nonchalance.
Love how the sound of the words here assuage the concern without undermining the argument of “no more nonchalance.” It is amazing how poetry can be, and often is, an argument, a call to action — “we only have now/we only have now”!
Sarah
Susan, there are so many reasons I love your poem. Of course it’s the sad truth which hurts like hell.
(Feckless fear
has a noxious grip
on the collective psyche of
the world.
No more nonchalance.)
The fear, the grip, the psyche, our nonchalance…what better way to paint this picture than with FECKLESS and NOXIOUS.
But you move me to where our peace and sanity lie, thank you!
Turn inward
Turn to each other
Turn to God.
Only God knows. Thank you. Be well my friend.
I’m just going to admit it. I harvested words from your poem. They are so strong and spot on.
“with a slap”
“feckless fear”
“bubble those hands”
“denoument”
I’m glad you wrote out some of the feelings. We are having them. We need to turn toward each other….I hope there is some God in the ones I turn to. I hope there is some in me for them.”
Thanks, Susan. We may not get to our houses of worship this week. But, we have a “message” in your poem that will guide us these next few days.
Your last stanza, a denouement of the After—what will the after be? The phrases you give us are so vivid—bubble those hands, no more nonchalance, cascade of moments. It’s all there. Beautiful.
This right here:
Does the eye in the sky
want us to slow down
ponder the Roman Empire,
the Aurora Borealis,
the gossamer gauzes
of nature all around
In every dark time, there is a light. And while we barrel forth to meet deadlines and miss a lot of what’s important, it won’t hurt us to reconnect.
Beautiful question for today!
Dissimulation
flights of fowl
at my feeder
busily bibbling and gobbling
their kerfuffled feathers
frumpy frippery
whifflers flummox
the bumfuzzled flocks
challenging
charms and chimes
flutters and shimmers
to scatter
-kim johnson
Ahhh! Your piece is a celebration of sound and words. The alliteration sings throughout (busily bibbling is a favorite). I love the way the words feel in my mouth as I read them – the openness of “flights of fowl,” the playfulness of “kerfuffled feathers.” You have truly captured the fun in the invented words (bumfuzzled brings a huge smile). I can envision “whifflers” hanging out with the Bandersnatch and Toves.
Kim,
This is so fun. I can see those birds hurrying, scurrying around the feeder. Love all the alliteration throughout and your use of “kerfuffled feathers.”
Hi Kim! A clever line is “challenging charms and chimes” because I love the alliteration. I imagine you sitting at your kitchen table, coffee in hand, watching the birds at the feeder. You’re smiling. 🙂
Kim,
Were you looking out your window? I was in awe of the puddle in my backyard, and that inspired my poem. I love thinking about where we all are as we compose our poems!
We also have bird feeder, but a certain squirrel hijacked it. Love this “busily bibbling and gobbling” — the words perfectly capture how I imagine birds (if the squirrel allowed them) enjoying the feed. Flocks and flutters and feathers. So much fun !
Sarah
Kim,
Beautiful music!!
Love “kerfuffled feathers” so much.
What a joyful read aloud! the alliteration…the kerfluffled feathers! You gave me a big smile that I needed today.
Kim, you mention “flights of fowl”. We have big breasted wild turkeys snitching from our low hanging bird feeders! Both your poem and our feeders remind us that there are humans who will need us to share with them during this “season”. Some may not be mobile enough to fly in; we may have to deliver.
Let’s stay tuned to the needs of those in our area that we can “feed” in the interim.
Funny – I also used kerfuffle – what a fun word. I love the images of fowl bibbling, frumpy, frippery – very fun to read aloud!
Good Morning, Jennifer and thank you for your super fun prompt. At first, I had a hard time coming up with words…until I closed my eyes. THEN, I could think of words. I do love your word, fossimossity. Fun! Thanks for kicking off a great week of poem drafting.
It’s a hard pill
to swallow.
Being wrong in the time of right.
Wadded up paper
hits the trash.
Missed shots litter my floor.
What foolery awaits kerosene
and the burn barrel out back.
Ashes are forgiving.
Smoke a stain in the sky
Plank from my eye
erased with a strike from my match.
Flames leap bright
in this time of right.
This Jolly ranchers tastes
like the penny
Mom told me decades ago
not to put in my mouth.
Good morning, Linda! So much to love in your piece. The movement from “hard pill to swallow” to the taste of the Jolly Ranchers brings this full circle. My favorite lines are “ashes are forgiving” and “smoke a stain in the sky.” I am still pondering the forgiving nature of ashes. We must let things go when we forgive. But we create and bring into existence something that wasn’t there before (ashes) at the same time. And there’s the beauty. Thank you for sharing!
Linda, mercy! Your words ring so true for all of us. What a way for us to relate this morning – being wrong – and realizing it – and tasting the bitterness of what we have to do to fix it. Your word scheme flows and dazzles us with the raw truth of wrongness. Wadded, litter, foolery – I do love the penny and Jolly Rancher! I like the way you said you closed your eyes to find the words you needed. Writing is like that – finding a quiet space and letting the words flow. Beautiful!
Linda,
Love the paradox in the line, “Being wrong in the time of right.” Your images are really strong, especially those evoking burning paper, which makes me think of book burning others do when they think a book isn’t “right” or the way we burn our words when we expect only “right” and perfection from ourselves. Then I remembered the poem “Who Burns for the Perfection of Paper.” Very evocative poem.
My favorite line mentions the gut-wrenching feeling of “being wrong in the time of right” (line 3). The jolly-rancher imagery is terrific. I can almost see myself wadding up those papers. I love your imagery.
I LOVE THIS POEM!!! Wow, just wow. “Missed shots litter my floor,” speaks to anyone who has ever written anything. “Foolery awaits kerosene,” is an amazing line. It’s my favorite line.
Linda,
What a thought-provoking poem! I want to read it over and over and pull different morsels each time.
I was most struck by “Ashes are forgiving” and “smoke stain in the sky” but I think that’s because I am working on my online lessons for my students and wondering how I am possibly going to get the Holocaust to sit effectively with them,.
Linda, it took a few moments, but I think I caught the reference to the Biblical admonition about judging others’ “mote” when we are blinded by “beam” or “plank” in our own eyes. It would be easy to rationalize and say that the “beam” in our own eyes is shedding light on the situation, wouldn’t it?
Your opening lines are so true! Thanks for the reminder to check ourselves.
I am so focused on the last stanza. It was visceral—I could taste it! Wow.
Very cool sound images – plank from my eye, foolery awaits kerosene – makes me want to burn something!
Love it!
This one is going to be fun, Jennifer! I love your metaphor of the lightning ideas that unfold in your mind as flickers and flashes and rumblings of storms! Thank you for hosting us this week!
Thank you, Kim! So glad you are here with us today.