October’s writing inspirations come from Andy Schoenborn. Andy is a teacher at Mt. Pleasant High School in Mt. Pleasant, Michigan. As a past president of the MCTE and an NWP teacher consultant for the Chippewa River Writing Project, he has over 90 professional development contact hours and continues to facilitate learning locally and nationally. Subscribe to Andy’s newsletter and follow him on Twitter@aschoenborn.
Inspiration
As the leaves fall from the trees in vibrant yellows, radiant reds, and brilliant oranges, October is a month worth celebrating with words. Let’s peruse our camera rolls or snap a picture of something beautiful this month. Using the photo of your choice, let’s write an Ekphrastic poem by responding to the image in verse.
Process
- With the “Rule of Thirds” photography technique in mind, either crop an existing image or, if inspired, snap one of your own that celebrates the month.
- You may choose to apply filters, if you choose, or stay true by using no filter.
- Once you have settled on an image, respond to it in verse.
- When sharing please include the image or link the image that inspired you.
Sample poem: “For Us” – Andy Schoenborn
I have found you shaking,
bones rattling,
in the wind
and am reminded of my grandfather
whose wooden reach stretched further than
was comfortable.
Grounded in dark, hard earth
he pushed through life – lifting the soil.
Unearthing fragmented crust
the smaller parts defying gravity, clinging.
On erratic branches we grew from him.
Wild.
Disorderly.
(not) straight.
Until our reach sprouted new limbs.
Fragile saplings too soon hardened.
Themselves growing protective leaves
–like serrated lives –
unsure of the future.
Hard, brittle, and shaking in the wind
we were
lifted
by he who was daring
enough to push
through the hard,
impacted earth – for us.
Your Turn
Scroll down to the comment section and write your poem. It need not be long nor follow the prompt but give it a try if you wish. Just write whatever is in your heart or on your mind in any form it takes. Then (or before), respond to at least three other writers using any of the sentence-stems offered below. Check back throughout the day to read the response to your writing (and smile).
Andy, your poem is so timely for me, as I’ve just come back from a lunch where I met some cousins I’ve known about, but have never had the chance to meet before. As we swapped stories and memories, it was clear that our family ties are strong, even though we barely knew each other. Your images reinforce to me that families have deep roots. Your grandfather sounds amazing!
October
Chaos of changing seasons and hormones
In the halls of my school, my job
A semester feels years long
Yet there is always more to do
Then comes the Fall Arts Institute
At Quartz Mountain
Adult networking
Creativity
Early mornings, late nights, college-like
New skills
Honing old skills
Peace
Wind
Rocks
Earth
Quiet
A reminder that Others choose to honor teachers
With a kid-free opportunity
To explore an art
To share with students
later.
https://oaiquartz.org/quartz-mountain/about
I love the first line (changing seasons and hormones) – funny and true!
I wish we had a place like that to have conferences! It is gorgeous and inspiring!
The power of the place comes through in your poem!
In between
moments
in the world
in between
hot and cold
summer and winter
night and day
day and night
twilight
dusk
autumn
luke warm
moments of indecision
and half-stories
whispers from the wind
leaves crinkling through the streets
and crunching under feet
moments where the world is changing
and we are changing
in between who we are
and want to be
hard and soft
cruel and kind
funny and smart
but unlike the inevitable seasons
we have choice
https://kindrapetersen104.wixsite.com/mysite/post/october-1-5-day-monthly-writing-challenge
A small but significant thing I noticed. Not “We have A choice”–“We have choice” is so different from having A choice. A perfect end to a wonderful poem.
The last warm autumn day shone
Your sugar speckled face calm
Let me in the house already
I can’t figure out how to get my picture to attach. https://docs.google.com/document/d/102X41keOs_JbRXgi_O428YY80TNwTEJlWXKFBaq83Mg/edit
Love Poem with Sky
Sometimes it takes
a new angle
To see what I
have missed
2/3 Iowa sky
1/3 silver grain bin
and you
at the sweet spot
back lit by infinity,
the man who grounds me.
http://www.ethicalela.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/dan-bin.jpg
Oh, Allison, how sweet is that?! I love that “new angle” … so totally real to get that other view. I particularly love the “back lit by infinity”… and that “you/at the sweet spot” that makes something so clear… and “ground[ing] you. The whole idea that we get other ways of seeing what is otherwise right smack in front of us is a terrific gift. And you recognized the love in that. So sweet. I could use such a man! HA! Thanks for sharing the love tonight! Susie
http://www.ethicalela.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/dan-bin.jpg
Backlit by infinity…love the image.
This made me ache to be back home for harvest. But, your first two stanzas make me wonder what about TX fall I’m missing. Thank you!
I love your last stanza and the beautiful sky in the photo.
I love that what starts out sounding like a description of the picture filters down to your husband. The idea of so much sky being infinity and the only break from that being him working is a great, sweet idea.
I love the line “back lit by infinity” – a play on two ideas (his back and backlighting?)
and the opposing words “who grounds me” while up in the air!
What a rich use of language!
Andy, I appreciate the timing of your poem, as I just got home from a lunch with cousins I knew I had but had never met. We laughed, swapped stories, and shared memories. It was clear we are family. Your poem reminds me that our families have deep roots. Your grandfather sounds amazing!
https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vQeaA-lU8ZpF5F_Z-lTFpkm_KVHk10ZT-UxbJfnyXoEYtKIseAccktuxN3wlMouB18APMCOI0DdaMrq/pub
This was…delicious! I love the specificity of the strange flavors (scoop after scoop!) and the climbing mercury. And such a darling photo! This was a treat :-).
Time got away from me today. I meant to do this sooner and differently. I’m still learning what to do with the passage of time.
Teacher
Leaves are letting go.
This is a lesson I need.
Al is turning one.
https://images.app.goo.gl/Q5EVpNFcbPvwArKC6
Chea, I love a good haiku. Your poem makes me wonder what the world would be like if we all just decided to let go once in a while.
I am right there with you, Chea! I think teachers have a hard time letting go – often of things we were never intended to take personally in the first place. Thank you for such a short, pointed reminder!
Please indulge my sentimentality today! Also, I can’t figure how to post my picture, so I’ll send it to Sarah to see if she can add it to my post!
My sweet silver schnauzer,
My Abby.
You came to us at the just the right time
Just as we’d arrived back home from an extended absence.
We didn’t know how quiet and lonely the house would be
Then we found you and your husband, Scruffy,
Parents of a beautiful litter of newly weaned and adopted pups.
We didn’t ask too many questions.
We didn’t know where you lived before
Or why you weren’t living there any more.
We just knew that we loved you and wanted you here, with us.
Your first night here was chaotic,
But we all knew you were home.
Eight years have passed.
Our family has changed and grown
But you’ve been a constant companion through it all,
The one spot of solace I can count on every day.
Your love for me has never been in doubt.
It’s safe to say I needed you as much as you needed me.
And now, my sweet girl,
It seems our time may be drawing to an end.
You still want to run and play
But I can see it’s hard for you.
You still hate to be picked up,
But you’ll let me lift you so we can sit together and read.
Your hearing is just about gone, as is your eyesight,
But you still love to lie by the fire and warm your aching bones.
Getting ready for what’s to come isn’t easy.
I don’t want to say goodbye.
But I’ll think of all the joy you have brought us
And be grateful for the time we’ve had,
My sweet silver schnauzer.
http://www.ethicalela.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/IMG_3460.jpg
My heart breaks for you.
Mo — My heart goes out to you. I am walking in your shoes in this tribute to the incredible sadness that comes with these twilight moments with our little guys. Your Abby is a precious li’l buddy, and I totally respect your memories of those early days with Abby…uncertain and chaotic but loving and accepting. Your Abby and my Watty Boy are in exactly the same place. You remind me of the desire to “run and play” but the reality that vision and hearing are impaired now. But these remarkable beings are as dear to us, as totally dear to you as any creature in your life. Right now, my Watty Boy is here at my feet, and we both understand and feel the importance of your poem. Sending love, Susie
Mo, as a fellow rescuer of 2 Schnauzers, your poem reaches in and squeezes my heart. Abby is clearly one family member who “lucked out” with a home where she is loved. I like that you chose a picture that shows her comfortable and warm, which is where she is now and where she’ll be whenever she crosses. She knows that her days would have been different had it not been for you. My favorite part of your poem is the line We didn’t ask too many questions……..it shows unconditional acceptance at the beginning of a new life, and it reminds us that we can’t ask too many at the end of the road either – – our choice can only be to love without fear of regret.
Mo, I appreciate your lines:
“Your love for me has never been in doubt.
It’s safe to say I needed you as much as you needed me.”
I feel this way about my chihuahua–my first pet, my first “child.” She is 13 and it is amazing how our pets become such a part of our lives and our hearts.
Thank you for sharing this.
Mo,
What an emotional and gorgeous poem. We very nearly adopted a schnauzer, but opted for a pekepom. We just love him. My favorite part is when you reminisce about the moment Abby and Scruffy enter your lives “at just the right time.”
Thank you for sharing a part of your family with us,
Andy
Mo, your poem is lovely. We found our dog Kip abandoned in the ditch and, like you, chose not to “ask too many questions.” I love how Abby has been a connecting presence over the past eight years of change. I hadn’t thought of that gift a pet gives us.
Such a sweet ode to a loved one! Reminds us all how important it is to appreciate those fleeting moments with our animal friends. So bitter-sweet. Thanks for sharing!
Andy, now that I’ve reached the age when my “leaves” are changing colors, I find the leaf transitions in autumn have taken on a new meaning. When I saw Glenda Funk’s photo, I knew this is the poem I had to share. It’s one written in another setting when we were prompted to write about trees, but it fits here after a pensive day. It’s called “The Heart Tree”‘
The Heart Tree
There’s a tree in my heart.
Was it there at the start
Of my life as a wife and a mother,
Through the cares and woes
And joy that just goes
Along when one lives with another?
The trunk is my past
The part that will last
When the children have come and gone.
They are the branches –
Reaching out, taking chances
Outside in the world and the throng.
The tree in my heart
I hope is a part
Of all I have known and still love,
It’s trite but it’s true,
But the growth’s due to you
Who grounded me in God’s love above.
Anna, your poem makes me wonder if it’s the time of year, or something else that makes us all think about trees. Your imagery is strong. The heart tree also makes me think of Frido Kahlo, whose work I love. Thank you!
You scoot
I walk
and run
and eventually carry your scooter
when you’re done
Largest tree on the block
Mommy, it’s red!
No, baby, not yet.
Stop to examine a spider
under a rock, across the sidewalk, lost in the grass
As we stand
one leaf falls
Green canvas
flakes of red
His proud smile and satisfied eyes
See Mommy, I told you it was red!
Ore trees and reminders to stop and observe the small things around us! We all seem to be on the same page. Is it a midwestern thing? Your last stanza is particularly sweet.
A moment of peace
A moment of silence
All that is required
To get back to the center
The space we all desire
When life gets too crazy
And deadlines rush in
Breathe, just breathe
Encourage and lift up others
Don’t let anyone drag you down –
STAY STRONG
Life is made of seasons
Many, many seasons –
Enjoy and bask in the moments
Of Beauty that surround you!
http://www.ethicalela.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/Screenshot_20191013-161931_Docs.jpg
Judy,
I appreciate the way the pace of your poem forces us to slow down and notice the world.
Judy, thanks for the reminder to slow down and appreciate life. I love that you wrote about your pet, as I did too!
This is just lovely. Why is it that this time of year makes me feel hurried? I long for that summer break feel.
Judy, I might just need to print your poem and take it to my office with me this week. I need this reminder every single day – – as most teachers do. Thank you for this encouragement to slow down and notice the beauty of life.
Judy,
Your image complements your words wonderfully! The idea of a life full of seasons resonates with me, because I often need a reminder to enjoy the current season and just breathe.
Thank you,
Andy
Judy,
Thank you for the reminder that it can only take a moment to find peace in the middle of our busy lives – all we have to do is look for it in the beauty around us! Your poem would be a good way to start every day.
I like how the poem is a call to me, and the photo shows me how to do it: that cat has tranquility all figured out!
I needed this reminder today… so much. Tomorrow, I will find a flower and a patch of sun for my moment of peace to center me. Thanks for the inspiration!
Photo credit goes to my cousin’s wife. I attempted to edit it per the “Rule of Thirds.” I am sending it via email to be posted.
Harvest Moon – hidden behind
layers of clouds and trees
yet still able to illuminate
everything in its path
Back-lighting the autumn trees
whose leaves are obscured by darkness
exposes the delicate branches
that will soon be barren
Branches like veins in the body
the unnoticed lifelines
become more visible
as the winter of life approaches
http://www.ethicalela.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/image.jpg
Wow, Rita! Your words are the perfect accompaniment to this photo! Just beautiful.
Rita — I just went back to find your photo and it’s here. I really love the moon as a poem focus, as it has been gorgeous these last few days. And you capture that. The “back lighting” and the “branches like veins” are particularly on target as the time passes and we see these lines more clearly…they rise to the surface…love that whole idea. I also like the assonance (trees…leaves…) that adds to the lyrical nature of this poem when I read it out loud. Lovely. Thanks, Susie
Versing the wind
Side-tackled if one dares
walk the plank
Watch for the
sly move of hydration
Punching the white caps
In the ring
As they bellow on repeat
At different heights
A roundhouse kick
pointed foot makes contact
with nature’s parallel flow
Walks on water
Jetty’s edge explodes
And glides one back to
exposed weakness
Defeated:
Wind-1
Humanity-0
——————–
This pic was taken yesterday in Grand Haven, MI. The winds ranged from 25-40 mph. It was a beautiful sight.
https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B8WC0JGPxExtYXNCaGtoZWlZYm4xODRjdF9fM1ZIQjZXTTVN
Wow. The energy in this poem is palpable. I feel like I am there with you. (I grew up on Lake Erie–this is exactly what I remember!)
The photo that inspired my poem was taken last Friday night at The Sleepy Hollow Experience, a nighttime play that progresses through the woods with the audience traveling alongside the characters from point to point as the story unfolds.
The Sleepy Hollow Experience
Legend of Sleepy Hollow
Headless Horseman’s path was fallow
Rustic Landscape
Weeping Willow
Ichabod Crane
Lanky Fellow
Brom Van Brunt
Brawling Bully
Katrina Van Tassel
Curls of Yellow
Fateful Party
Crime to follow
Unsolved Mystery
Suspects narrow
http://www.ethicalela.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/IMG_4756.jpg
Kim — What a way-cool experience! You took me right back to my 7th grade class when I was a kid. Reading about Ichabod Crane, I was so inspired I remember sketching a picture of him that the teacher hung on the bulletin board. I LOVED the whole idea of Sleepy Hollow… and what gets better than a headless horseman!? Totally October and totally fun. Thanks! Susie
Kim,
I would love to partake in this experience. I like how you separated the characters and the feeling of the steps you took to process or experience the story in this way.
Kim,
I love that you took some time to reflect upon the Sleepy Hollow experiences. How cool is that? The short phrases of each line give enough hint to the story that it allows the reader to recall the rest of the story.
Thank you for sharing,
Andy
Like Susie, I enjoyed how the names Brom and Katrina sparked my memory of this story! Thank you for the tickling playful rhymes!
Love this. Boiling it down to its essence!
Imagining Our Mother
At 6:28
You stretched your old wobbly arms
Across autumn’s fiery sky
To find a quiet place
Where your crinkled crackly hands
Could touch your daughters’ hearts
You reached past a zillion grains of sand
Above dirty blankets swaddling homeless bones
Over salty hair flying in the evening breeze
On winding paths where bicycles whizzed by
And mothers towed tired children towards home
The sun’s gradual disappearance
Echoed how you silently slipped away
But its warmth and peace
Reminded us that what goes away eventually returns
We faced each other
And there you were
In our eyes
Looking right at us
http://www.ethicalela.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/20191013_211921.jpg
That last stanza….wow
This poem is beautiful. I don’t have the relationship that you have with your mother. Wish I did–I wish these wonderful lines fit my life…
Stacey, what a powerful beginning – – the time of your mother’s silent slipping away. I, too, have been there saying goodbye to my mother, and your poem strengthens the hope that we have in seeing our mothers not just when we, too, slip away, but in the everyday moments until that time comes. Thank you.
Stacey — Holy Moly — this is really such a poem! You have brought your mother right into my life. I so love the idea of her return…her “crinkly hands/could touch…” — oh wow… what a glorious notion. I can just see her rising up through the sand and draped in old blankets… those “homeless bones” and “salty hair flying” — holy cow.. that’s terrific. Then the “echo” of her slipping away yet hinting of a return. Dang…this is a way cool poem. I’d LOVE to think that my Mama could come back …rise up and “look… right at [me].” That’d be so so so so fantastic. This is remarkably creative and touching. I just love it! Thank you for bringing my Mama back this evening… I could use a good dose of her eyes. Thank you so much, Susie
Hi Susie, thanks so much for your feedback and I’m glad you were able to feel your mama in it too. My sister and I look a lot alike and of course look just like our mom. We look at each other and see her in so many ways. I am becoming my mother. LOL
Sarah, sorry I didn’t know you wouldn’t be able to crop my picture. Yikes. Should I send another one?
Stacey,
What a beautiful poem. My mom passed away just over a year ago at almost 91. She suffered from dementia, and your third stanza brought me such a warm feeling because that is exactly how I feel but could not express as lovely as you have done here. You have forever changed how I will view sunsets.
“Mothers towed tired children toward home” So many accessible images with the perfect sounds to deliver them. There you were! I love the surprise.
Wow. The imagery in that second stanza is wonderful. I totally can see it like I was there. Everything about this poem is beautiful.
Conversation
the statue wasn’t a great talker.
So I talked, instead.
Filling her ear with stories
About my day
My week
My month
My year
My life.
I shared the things I wished for
And those I wished I could re-do
Or un-do.
About dreams surrendered to reality,
some that came true,
And some I still hope for.
About children, long grown
Who emptied my nest
Filling my lap and my life.
About the little white dog
Who stole my heart
And broke it when he left me suddenly
Leaving my lap empty once again.
About growing older
Wiser, braver.
With a thinner filter
A thicker waist.
About being unwilling to give in to autumn
Just yet.
Knowing that winter will follow too soon for me.
Sometimes, you just need someone who will listen for a while…
http://www.ethicalela.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/GayleSands_Oct.jpg
I am unable to upload my photo. What is the trick?
There has to be a “home” for the picture since there can’t be an attachment. So if the image is on a website, then the url works. If it is a pic on your phone, then it doesn’t have a url.Email me the picture, and I can give it a home on our site and upload it for your.
This is beautiful. There is a statue that Eleanor Roosevelt used to visit in Wash DC when she was sad. I visited the statue and could see why she would go there to just be and chat with a statue.
Raising my hand to show I’m in on the “thinner filter, thicker waist.” My, what a truth. I like the unwillingness to give in to autumn – – I like your use of it in the phases of life as we enjoy the season.
Gayle, this poem is heartbreaking to me as I cannot stop thinking of how often we tell stories to “breathing” listeners and don’t get as much satisfaction as telling something inanimate. Thank you for sharing this.
at home
my roots are
earth-wrapped
soothed in soil
stretching alongside
sisters with goldilocks
wild tendrils adrift in wind
away
my roots are cut
I am a stem
floating
water-bloated
exposed in glass
decaying in remains
sisters scattered
inert tresses wilting
dying alongside
sugar packets
at brunch
http://www.ethicalela.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/20191013_112807.jpg
The need for grounding is part of all of us. Home is needed to refill us… love the imagery of home…
sisters scattered is also my truth….oh, I miss them this time of year.
Sarah, I’m plugged in to the same feelings at home and away. You capture this image of connectedness so beautifully. I like the analogy of “soothed in soil.” That’s just how home is……fertile soil for our growth.
Sarah, your poem is so relatable to all of us who have felt adrift away from our families. “Sisters with Goldilocks” seems magical to me. “Inert tresses wilting” is heartbreaking. What an extended metaphor! You make me want to be a better writer.
Andy — I am very taken by the parallels between the tree and your grandfather. I especially felt the “…shaking,/bones rattling…” and “…leaves/–like serrated lives…” (that word serrated has such sensory impact) and “erratic” and “disorderly.” It brings a recognition of such connection and respect and you can see that connection. The image of those autumn leaves adds that sense of beauty in it all. Thanks for modeling such a beauty! Susie
Thank you, Susie. The poem surprised me when it presented itself. I love it when that happens.
Andy,
I find when I am writing regularly that I see the poetry in every object, and in this poem, you speak directly to the tree and introduce us to your grandfather. This is so lovely– to see our humanity in nature, the symbiosis that I wish we respected on a global scale. But alas, I want to celebrate this poem and sway in the last stanza in gratitude to your grandfather for bringing you to this world — you are such an inspiration to writers and students!
Hard, brittle, and shaking in the wind
we were
lifted
by he who was daring
enough to push
through the hard,
impacted earth – for us.
The “daring” and the “push” are so important but also the willingness to be in the wind and lift others. So beautiful!
Sarah
Thank you, Sarah. As you know, the more we pause and reflect on our lives the more we are able to appreciate the beauty that can swiftly move by.
Yesterday I saw a tree in Mondsee, Austria that was topped w/ orange and yellow fall colors on top and green leaves in the next layer. The tree is my poem inspiration.
“We Shall Like Fall Trees“
We shall like fall trees Disrobe.
Cast off summer’s green glow
Embrace this annual changing scene.
A molting of our lives we preen.
Yellow, gold, orange, red hues
Autumnal annual mystic muse
Wrap leafy scarfs in swirls sublime
Entwined on canopy top through time.
Watch Slip summer’s fresh grown sheen
Dare drop summer’s silky screen.
Fall forward toward the winter days
Look once again on gray sky haze.
—Glenda Funk
http://www.ethicalela.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/glendaoct.jpg
So great to see you here while knowing you are on your adventure! I need this poem today, Glenda. Life asks us to disrobe to embrace change, but when we resist, the colors move us toward change anyway so that the change feels less abrupt, even wrapping us in the process — “wrap leafy scarfs” and “entwined on canopy.” Still, it is change, and one morning we wake up and see we have, indeed, fallen forward.
Peace,
Sarah
Glenda, it’s magical! Autumnal annual mystic muse; swirls sublime; Slip summer’s; dare drop summer’s silky screen… I am an alliteration lover and your words woo me into wonderings! Beautiful. The idea of falling forward toward winter is exactly what it feels like as I dread the gray skies. Love your poem and that incredible photo.
Hi, Glenda — What a spectacular tree — I just love the brilliant colors! That you turned the phrasing in such a wonderful opening line was marvelous…. “we shall like fall trees disrobe”… very slick. I love the line “a molting of our lives we preen.” These parallels with the acts of seasons changing and our lives like swirling scarves…entwined … there’s a gracefulness that you bring to the changes. I really like the sort of sensual “drop summer’s silky screen” … sort of sexy. 🙂 I come away from your poem smiling and feeling quite good. Thank you! Have fun over there! Susie
“Watch Slip summer’s fresh grown sheen
Dare drop summer’s silky screen.
Fall forward toward the winter days
Look once again on gray sky haze.“
Love the alliteration in this stanza. It moves the feeling so elegantly.
Slip summer. Mmmmmmm.
Oh, this is so fun! The thought of disrobing like a tree and putting on colors. I need something like this poem to help me feel better about aging. I’m really not enjoying the molting stage! But, I do have to laugh and “go with it” as I don’t have a real choice. I embrace my autumn tree-ness! Thank you.
Glenda, I love that the tree shows the cyclical phases of its own life and encourages us to think of the same cycles that we all experience as we constantly transition through life. What a splendid image – in a photo and in words. I’m inspired by your journeys and your love of life along the way – – and your ability to capture all that you experience in words.
I’m sort of cheating….I saw a photo on twitter of an autumn sunset this morning … AND…poemtember’s prompt for day 13 is “ash” so, a haiku
a candle burns down
to ash showing fire how
to hold against snow
Inspiration from any photo or writing without any consideration of a photo — all words are welcome here however you come to them!
I am now thinking of “ash” and associations. When I slow down enough to breathe, I see my candle burned down and think about what remains. I also think about what I am avoiding in my haste to always go and always do and always create.
Hmmm. lots to ponder in this verse for me.
Peace,
Sarah
Linda — Oooo, this is dandy! I love the notion of “fire… hold[ing] against snow.” Grand idea! Thanks, Susie
There is no such thing as cheating here. We do our thing because of the prompt or because we’re inspired in a different way.
I have an image of a candle stuck in snow, refusing to flicker despite the snow’s wetness. It’s a lovely image.
BENDING ZINNIAS
You shared a lesson
as the season wore thin,
yielding to the next;
tempted to tire,
expire at my feet,
one with the cold clay,
you battled back,
held your purple blush still lush
and bent,
bowed, nearly buckled, and braced
to flag the October sun,
sent forth another flowering face
to pedal against the weight
of chilled nights and wearying dew.
We weren’t quite ready to surrender
to time that pressed
on our spine,
smeared our faces to the ground,
shook our seed to the dirt.
Instead, we unparched our veins,
channeled rains, elixirs
through our conduits
to more tomorrows;
we curved and bent and wended,
welcomed extra days
we scarce expected;
this bending marshaled not an ending,
just stem curves
on our too calculated calendars.
by Susie Morice
http://www.ethicalela.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/susie.oct_.jpg
Your words: just stem curves
on our too calculated calendars. Moved me. These are the ones that popped out but there is such a smoothness and flow to your poem I really enjoyed.
unparched our veins….great phrase!
Susie!
I feel like I am seeing all my friends again with our monthly challenge! So good to be with you again in this way.
you battled back,
held your purple blush still lush
and bent,
The apostrophe here to the zinnias makes me feel such proximity that I wonder who the zinnia represents for you? Someone who “battled back” with the past tense? And to distance it, allows me to think of nature more broadly. Will our rainforests be able to battle back?
Peace,
Sarah
Susie, I am feeling empathy for these beautiful flowers in a way I never imagined. The personification in the excerpt I chose is perfect, then I actually started to feel maybe we are the ones who should practice “flowerfication”
you battled back,
held your purple blush still lush
and bent,
bowed, nearly buckled, and braced
to flag the October sun,
sent forth another flowering face
to pedal against the weight
of chilled nights and wearying dew.
I’m left staring at a garden of people who need to stop looking at the calendar. Thank you for this poem and picture.
I sense you are at one w/ the Xenias. Determined to bend time to your will, to war against it. Both speaker and flower strong of will and mighty in form “curve…calculated calendars” to take control of life’s seasons. Of course I love the throbbing alliteration throughout the poem. I sense common themes on our poems today, perhaps a seasonal awareness of temporal things.
Susie, I love your whole poem — but that ending is my favorite line: our too calculated calendars. You have so many ways of winning in your word weaving, but the calculated calendar makes me stop and think: am I managing my time, or is it managing me? I feel at liberty to be a bending flower and be more flexible somehow as I read your words here.