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.
Our August Open Write Host
Tammi is a Gifted Intervention Specialist and teaches ELA to 5th and 6th graders. As a middle school teacher and Power of the Pen writing coach, Tammi has spent over fifteen years sharing her love of reading, writing and poetry with her students. Tamara lives in a suburb of Cleveland, Ohio with her husband and three children. When she isn’t absorbed in reading young adult literature, she can be found listening to music with her family, enjoying a walk or learning Thai Chi. She is the author of the forthcoming young adult verse novel, Perchance to Dream.
Inspiration
As teachers we frequently encounter reluctant writers. Even among my gifted students who are generally voracious readers, I have discovered reluctant writers. To combat this reluctance, I have utilized many free write and choice prompts options in writing workshop settings in an attempt to encourage writing, but often these good intentions were not enough to engage my reluctant writers. Perhaps freedom of choice was daunting? Perhaps all the white space was just too overwhelming?
Interestingly enough, I discovered that many of my most reluctant writers have gravitated towards poetry. It’s brevity. It’s structure. The patterns. These elements of poetry provided exactly what my students needed in order for them to feel not only competent as writers but also allowed their voices to be heard.
Process
Created by Roddy Lumsdon, the sevenling is a seven line poem written in two stanzas with an additional single line wrap up.
- First stanza. Lines 1-3
Consists of three lines with connected ideas, details, statements
- Second stanza: Lines 4-6
Also contain three ideas, details or statements. These may or may not be connected to previous stanza.
- Line seven should wrap up the poem or offer a juxtaposition to your previous stanzas.
Because of the brevity of this poem, the last line should leave the reader with a feeling that the whole story has not been revealed.
You can find additional samples at link below:
Teaching Idea: I often have my students create book talks after they have completed independent, choice reading. Have students write a sevenling after they have finished reading their novel. It can serve as a hook or a character sketch.
My sample poem is written as a glimpse into a character from my forthcoming novel Perchance to Dream.
Tammi’s Poem
The water beckons,
icy, algae-ridden, turbulent
How far will she swim?
She disappears beneath the pink petaled magnolia tree
where branches bow in prayer
She holds her breath and dreams another life
In the end she always bleeds
by Tamara Belko © 2021Your 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.
When the first of these seeds
drop, the tree’s fluttering wings
remind us to sing of approaching Autumn
I am still remembering Spring,
when the melt of a long Winter
gave way to greener things
And Summer has always been with us
Kevin
(Playing some catch-up on prompts)
I’m sorry I’m late to post, so I’m not expecting feedback, but just enjoying doing the writing!
Fall Semester 2021
Ready to return to campus
after seventeen months at bay
I dig my office keys out of the junk drawer
My online course shell sits ready and waiting
As Delta numbers continue to scale the charts
We mask up to me each other three feet apart
How long with it last?
Should be “meet” each other three feet apart. Could not edit to correct.
Stay safe, Denise, I’m in the thick of it too. Nonvaxxed elementary school children who can barely keep their masks over their noses.
I wonder the same thing Denise. In my hometown and in my working district masks aren’t mandatory. I can’t see how this is a tenable situation.
Hi Tamara, how exciting about your forthcoming novel. I will look forward to it. That last line sure makes me want to dive into your book. I couldn’t write yesterday, but I’m back this morning to add my Sevenling. I love the idea of asking children to write hooks for books. I imagine even the most reluctant writer would be able to embrace this task. My Sevenling is about E.B. White’s The Trumpet of the Swan.
Sevenling (He Works Hard)
He works hard to restore his honor,
Paying off his father’s debts, and
Waiting for his true love to respond.
He goes to school and takes on odd jobs—
Camp counselor where he learns to play, night club performer,
And Boston Public Garden entertainer.
Louis the swan became a trumpeter
Denise,
Your poem reads like a mystery w/ that final reveal at the end. I love this inductive paradigm. The reveal is quite rewarding.
—Glenda
Denise – I like how you used the form to unveil a sort of evolution. Like a butterfly emerging from a a pretty tough cocoon. This really works. Susie
Denise,
I thought I’d pop back to see if I missed anyone yesterday. I’m so glad you were able to join us. I love the insight into Louis character and the glimpse at his obstacles.
Thank you for today’s prompt. I had not heard of Sevenling before today. I have spent most of my summer vacation helping my friend renovate her vacant rental property.
Vacuuming the baseboards, molding and window trim
Just to wipe it all down
Scrubbing the adhesive off the wall
Scrape the mud on the wall
Place the tiles careful as can be
Wait to grout until the floor is done
When will the house be ready???
What a summer of service and what a friend, DeAnna. I’m sure it helped pass the time. I’m impressed you were doing skilled work, it sounds like. Hope it’s ready soon.
DeAnna,
This is a lovely tribute to your service to your friend. Everything seems to take longer than you think.
I like “Just wipe it all down” – I think directive phrases like that add a compelling dimension to a poem. Wow, it sounds like you put in a lot of work on this property! Your friend is lucky!
I had to laugh at that closing line, because it feels like home renovating is NEVER done! That is certainly the mystery question! Nice detail of work. Makes me think of how other kinds of work or jobs/tasks could be captured in this poetic form.
DeAnna,
Your last line, “When will the house be ready??” I know the feeling. Our house is 70 years old so everything is falling apart. Summers tend to be the time to fix things up and it is always so arduous.
Thank you for today’s prompt and this task, Tammi! I like your idea and the poem you created. You provide an opportunity for thinking about personal expeience, beliefs, and universal philosophical themes.
Love and Hate
Love walks through the world
Gently caring for each human soul,
Gifting them with joy and hope.
Hate crushes everything in its path.
Dreams, hopes, and promises
Disappear into abyss of evil.
What will happen when love and hate meet?
Leilya, what a great idea of thinking of universal truths like this. Wow! Even the opening words of each stanza are significant–Love walks and Hate crushes. I still believe what happens when they meet is Love wins.
This is indeed a great take on the poetic subject. I could definitely see students doing this with abstract words, creating ‘concrete’ imagery to express what the terms mean to them. I love the concept of “gifting” – a seemingly simple rhetorical choice that really impacts the meaning.
The way you’ve set up these juxtapositions it seems like a battle.
I’m rooting for love and hope that hate doesn’t “crush everything in its path”.
Tammi, I like this idea of structure setting a writer free – there’s wisdom in that idea, and such an invitation to try it out. Your poem makes me want to read more about this character.
Waiting for it
I keep waiting for it
to strike like lightning –
the willingness to start again… again
when obligations stop being two thousand pound weights
pinning me down, but
like a bee, inspiration will buzz toward me
sudden, electric, creative sweetness
Emily — I love the comparison between a bee and inspiration. Your final line “sudden, electric, creative sweetness” really sums up that strike of inspiration so well.
Emily, the heavy weight of obligations is clearly felt. I love how the energy changes at the end…the buzzing return of energy is so sweet!
Emily, thank you for your poem. So many of us can relate to never ending burden of responsibilities and commitments that “stall” the inspiration. Hope you still find time to sit and record your ideas.
“Waiting for it” is a perfect title. It seems to have struck today, Emily. I love the description in the last line, especially that you call that freedom to create “sweetness.”
Hi, Em! So good to see you here again. I love what you described here… that weight… so real and oppressive… and the release from that, a bee with its inspiration and lightness. I liked this form as well. So much in such a tight 7 lines. May the obligations all take flight! Hugs, Susie
She remembers the pale pink hair ribbon her 7-year-old friend wore in her casket.
She remembers the canoe paddle slicing into the silent Michigan lake on her honeymoon.
She remembers obscure details about John Chapman.
She forgets that she wore that shirt yesterday,
She forgets how to work the washing machine,
She forgets that the dog has died.
She has planted apple seeds.
Such a bittersweet poem. I wonder if it’s about your parents aging. Memory is such an amazing thing, isn’t it?
Yes, Mo. My mom. Thanks for hearing me.
Allison — this is so sad. This must be so difficult for you and your family. I hope your mother holds onto those beautiful memories of lake Michigan.
Oh, Allison, what a poignant and tender loving poem. Your specific details show us striking memories of love and loss. Your closing line is gorgeous! Hugs dear friend!
Thank you, Allison, for sharing your heart here. Your repetition of “She remembers” and “She forgets” makes it more powerful. The line lengths speak volumes too, perhaps about what is important. Peace to you and strength as you walk with her.
Allison – This is so real… so beautiful are those exquisite memories… so hard are the memory losses. One of my closest friends is there in this touching poem. So easily it could be at our own doorsteps. Apple seeds. Love to you and to your mom. Susie
I like this form very much, but I felt I had to reveal myself in the last line. Sorry, not sorry!
The clock ticks unmercifully slowly
sweat beads line my furrowed brow
thunder roils all about me— in me!
It’s agony
I know I’m not alone in my feelings, my desires
and just when I think I can’t take it anymore,
the lunch bell rings, putting an end to my misery.
By Mo Daley 8/23/21
Love this!!!
Oh. Yes. There is lots of realness here! Starting soon, I will be thinking of this poem at 11:46!
Teachers are the only people who eat lunch at times like 11:46!
LOL, Mo! I wasn’t sure if you had to use the bathroom or if you were having hot flashes! I love it!
Oh, what a sensual delight of a poem! I feel your WANT and NEED! You made me grin!
Ha! Yup! Hangry, I’ve been there! Thanks for this fun poem!
Mo, oh my, I can so relate to the eagerness for that special moment heralding lunch time. Im still laughing!
Agony. Wow. Waiting for lunch time in a school year like none other. Peace to you, Mo. No need to be sorry. We surely get it.
I really loved your poem, Mo, it is full of pathos and angst that only a teacher feels. I loved the line, “thunder rolls all about me – in me!” I could actually feel the chaos that is lunch at our middle school!
Monday is best left sleeping in its den.
Tuesday is Monday’s Friday.
Wednesday, well, we made it this far.
Thursday is the preview of our favorite show.
Friday, can it get any better?
Saturday is polar – all work or all play.
Sunday we begin again, a new creation.
Tuesday is Monday’s Friday- I’m going to sit with that a while!
I have not heard “Tuesday is Monday’s Friday” before! I loved it!
I like the personification: Don’t wake Bear Monday!
Using a group of seven days for a Sevenling makes me want to go write one about the seven deadly sins or the seven seas or the seven continents!
Katrina — I love your metaphor for Saturday. It is so true, too. I’m either catching up on everything or doing nothing.
Katrina, I adore how cleverly you connect the days. Love the end with its new creation.
Thank you, Katrine! From now on every Tuesday I will think about “Monday’s Friday” ))
Hi friends! I have missed this group and the space to write and share! Tammi, thank you for the prompt and mentor poem…I had a lot of fun with this form. It helped me organize some thoughts and lines I had floating in my notebook.
I created a found poem using lines and quotations from the following NPR stories:
https://www.npr.org/2021/08/18/1029014825/afghan-women-politicians-taliban-resistance
https://www.npr.org/2021/08/18/1029004552/afghan-gynecologist-said-she-fled-country-because-the-taliban-sent-her-death-thr
Afghanistan, August 21 [Sevenling Series]
The Taliban have promised
to respect women’s rights
to recruit women to join the new government
The Taliban have promised
to moderate restrictions on women
to permit women to work in sectors like healthcare
The stronger the Taliban got, the stronger the threats got
Reports of Afghan women
being forced to marry fighters
being publicly flogged
Reports from women that
their houses were searched
their cars taken away
We’re entering the city. Soon we’ll come for you.
Overnight, everything vanished
The plane filled with women traveling alone
Returning is not an option
History repeats itself so quickly
No women exist anymore
Waiting for them to come, to kill
My dear homeland…there is a future for this country
oh my! My heart and soul ache for the Afghan women. Your lines “We’re entering the city. Soon we’ll come for you. are frightening.
Betsy, I love how you’ve adapted the form to help you process the thoughts and information you are getting about this important topic. Really well done!
Betsy, Thank you for this aching poem. That you used actual wording from the stories adds weight to your important words. The italicized quotations squeezed my heart.
Betsy — These lines: “We’re entering the city. Soon we’ll come for you.” and “No women exist anymore” are so ominous.
My heart goes out to these women. “History repeats itself so quickly” — really wish this weren’t true.
It is good to have you back, Betsy. Thank you for sharing the links to the stories that inspired you. The sevenling series is so powerful and heartbreaking. The juxtaposition of thoughts in the last three-line stanza and the last line is so striking. From pure hopelessness and despair to a hope and a future. Wow.
Oh, Betsy – You spelled out the horror that lies before the women. Powerful and godawful. I appreciate this poem as it faces down the grim reality in Afghanistan. Heartbreaking. Susie
Tammi,
I really like this idea! I can think of a number of uses in the classroom.
Home Sweet Home
Constant chaos . . . loud voices, laundry, messes everywhere.
Never time to catch a breath, never a moment to myself
Four children in seven years.
Surrounded in solitude, sometimes even lonely.
Two living on their own, two off to college.
The quiet in the house can be deafening.
Be careful what you wish for.
~Susan Ahlbrand
23 August 2021
One of my favorite phrases—be careful…. Your story echoes mine. The quiet in the house can most certainly be deafening…
Susan, I really enjoyed your juxtapositioning of the “chaos” and the “quiet,” and that seventh line is pure truth!
Susan — “Be careful what you wish for.” So true! I am right there with you. I have two children out of the house (one out of state) and only one left at home. The house is so quiet.
I’m nodding my head at that last line! Like so many ‘reality checks,’ this offers that sage voice of experience. It’s funny because I was just thinking about how my home will never be like Home and Garden, but more like Family Circus! And how I envy my ‘retired’ friends’ homes that always seem so neat and clean and organized – but this insight shows why that is. Which is the ‘better’ – ? Yes, be careful what you wish for!
[So far since January 1, 2021, we’ve been battling 41,197 wildfires that have consumed 4, 575,051 acres, 2,503.430 are still burning. And so far only 1 “large fire” has actually been contained; 93 active large fires continue to burn…mostly throughout west coast and NW states.]
SUMMER FIRES: CHANGING PATTERNS
It thundered just now,
a taunt, a vague promise of rain
that channels in mad rivers gouging the earth.
Empty thunder, like brickbats and bullyrags,
echo a reminder of what it meant to be wet,
a low distant grumble in the heavens
that yield only a splintering heave of desiccated, smoky breath.
by Susie Morice, August 23, 2021©
Susie! I looked up “brickbats” and “bullyrags” as I have come to expect layered meanings with you, my friend. I thought maybe they were birds or toads beyond scolding beings and intimidation. Having such language alongside “empty thunder” conjures such a storm of destruction of which beings are certainly capable in the rain and the drought. I keep holding onto this idea of human beings “gouging the earth” as I reread your words. This is a powerful story of summer fires — literal and figurative — for me. Thank you.
Susie, I love how you pull the reader right in at the opening of this poem. “a taunt, a vague promise of rain”…followed by “gouging”. “brickbats and bullyrags”….woooh…that is so powerful. Your end is genius….”splintering heave of desiccated, smoky breath”..Wow, I so wanted to capture sensory details today, but couldn’t think of how to put them into my poem so thank you for sharing your brilliance! You reveal the horror of the wildfires, and the opening facts help share the unbelievable destruction occurring this year. Outstanding poem!
Susie,
This poem speaks to my heart. We have smoky skies today in our arid desert. I just don’t think most people understand how bad these fires are, how thirsty for rain we are in the west. I love the sounds in your poem: gouges, brickbrats, bullyrag, desiccated—these all offer a sense of futility and anguish. This poem is much needed. Thank you.
—Glenda
Susie, what a tight, powerful poem. That thunder, threatening…the sound of brickbat and bullyrag…that low grumble. And then…”reminder of what it meant to be wet,” great language. Love this.
Susie—so many strong words here. I don’t know which ones are most impressive. Taunt/vague promise, brickbats/bully rags. Splintering heave? Wow! Cannot choose. Wow.
Susie,
Your poem hits very close to home for me as my oldest son is working as a wildland firefighter this summer. I read an article this morning that discussed how the excess of smoke in the atmosphere right now is actually causing a horrific cycle–the smoke rises into what would be rain clouds and changes their composition–stopping any rain from falling. Nature can’t stop the fires because the fires are stopping nature. It is partly what I wrote about in one of my sevenlings. Your poem brutally (in a good way) captures the dreadful state we are in now with the rampant fires. Thank you!
Susie, you are able to build such beautiful tension in this poem. The poem’s form requires such precise diction…and you rise to the challenge!
Susie, such vivid diction here! So good! Each stanza is packed with powerful images: “gouging the earth,” “brickbats and bullyrags, / echo a reminder,” “splintering heave of desiccated, smoky breath.” (And thank you for the information in your “intro.” I had no idea of the extent of the fires.)
Susie, soooo chilling!
There’s a taunting terror in this truth we face! Wow.
Susie — I really love the way you begin this poem with the lines: “It thundered just now”. It left me with a feeling of expectation. I thought this was going to be a poem about rain dousing a fire but instead it was a poem about longing for rain and reprieve from fire. Love the the comparison you drew between the bullies and the empty threats of thunder and your final line “splintering heave of desiccated, smoky breath” was so vivid.
The sevenling is a new form to me, and I wonder how a seemingly simple form can pose such a challenge.
A few days ago my friend and former colleague Debbie Greco, who has on occasion written in this space, found 52 books from her classroom library destroyed in what appears a targeted act of hate as most of the destroyed books honor diverse voices. The JRM Foundation is fo sting money to replace the books, and our media specialist started an Amazon wish list for Debbie. It’s in my FB page. I hope we can get more books for Debbie than she had previously.
The 52 Book Shelf [Sevenling]
They plucked 52 books from a classroom
Library & broke book spines,
Renting heart-words to spill ink.
We resisted this bibliographic homicide,
Resuscitated & reincarnated each page,
Transplanting new books to restore stories.
Flip the page to inhale possibility and promise.
—Glenda Funk
Glenda, what a terrible story! And yet, one with hope – you and others are going to make that classroom library even more extraordinary. Bravo! Love the seventh line especially “Flip the page to inhale possibility and promise.” You are flipping the script.
Glenda, what a horrific action. You show the destruction and vile actions so well in the opening. Rebuilding is a must….love how you captured that in “We resisted this bibliographic homicide”..be looking for a friend request from me….I’d love to contribute. Thanks for sharing this so artfully! Love “Flip the page to inhale possibility and promise”!
Oh, Glenda, I love the “possibility and promise” in this poem. Something so stunning about the precise number of 52. Every one counted, every broke spine a sign of pages turned.
Oh my stars! I wonder why the 52 – that seems so intentional. Like weeks in a year. I hope that she gets back threefold the books AND that they catch whoever did this and hold them accountable for their actions. Bibliographic homicide – what a way to describe the carnage so cleverly. There is beauty in your writing despite the tragic event.
This is horrible. It hurts my soul… but your presentation of this carnage is wonderful. Renting heart-words to spill ink…flip the age to inhale possibility… I hope the page is flipped and the damage dealt with. So wrong…
Oh, Glenda — I hear that “they” and “We”… that confrontation of values. The hard sounds of “plucked” and “broke…spines” spell out the battleground. To “resist” the homicide of stories, books…doggone! Tough images for English teachers! You bet! Now, to “inhale” the victory! Whew! The hatefulness is really disturbing…dammit! Thank heavens for teachers like you! Yea! Hugs, Susie
Glenda, this is so saddening to hear. I love the hope in the last line… man, what a wild experience. The “renting heart-words to spill ink” really illustrates the violence in it all. Good luck to you and your friend.
Why? Why are people so horrible? This story really saddens me but your last lines “flip the page to inhale possibility and promise” gives me hope that kindness will prevail. I hope your fundraiser does well and your friend can replace those books with many, many, more.
Oh, Glenda!
YES: FLIP THE PAGE.
But first, let’s feel the awfulness of the violent act. Your line “renting heart-words to spill ink” is spot-on.
An assault on books (Fahrenheit 451??), is “merely” violence against an inanimate object. Yet you have used humanizing word choices (resuscitated, transplanted, homicide) to reveal the vandals’ intent: to kill stories–and we know stories=lives.
Thank you for alerting me to this atrocity and for turning pain into poetry.
Oh, what a poem to write today. I hope you will add your poem to your sweet sharing far and wide about building a better library. Yes, let’s show that love wins over hate.
The resistance of “bibliographic homicide” and the hope in the second stanza is beautiful. I know you will share the results of the restoration. Thanks for doing this.
Tammi, what a delightful new form you have presented! Thank you!
she narrates nonstop whether
digging in the dirt, patting playdough,
whimsically washing sundry at the sink
sister squeals throughout
cagily crawling into corners, unsteady standing,
eagerly eyeing what you’re eating
it is unquestionably quiet when they are gone
Ahhh, Maureen. Your end makes me wish I could give you a hug. I love how you characterize your wonderful grandchildren. What a blessing to enjoy, but I feel the absence in your closing line. “Unquestionably quiet” is so poignant!
Maureen,
This is a gorgeous poem of playtime. It made me smile from line one. I love the celebration of a child narrating, finding and using words. Really superb poem. This form works like magic for your story today.
Narrates nonstop! Oh, that sweet development of language and the patience it takes and the joy and pride it brings. They are lucky to have you to share in their journey! I kept my son’s children a few weekends ago and remembered what it means to be exhausted from all the fun! Your alliteration throughout keeps it fun!
“It is unquestionably quiet”—so much going on there. And the descriptions are perfection, the alliteration just right.
Maureen – I can just hear these sweet narrations, and can tell that they are music to your ears. Thanks for sharing this little nugget of joy with us.
Maureen — you’ve totally captured the nonstop bustle and noise of children. I don’t have grandchildren but of my three children only one lives at home still, so I can relate to the “unquestionably quiet when they are gone.”
Maureen, I love all of your rhyme throughout — especially the ascending letters in lines five and six: “cagily crawling into corners” to “unsteady standing” to “eagerly eyeing what you’re eating.” All those Cs, Ds, and Es. Very cool!
What a beautiful snapshot of your two little ones! I can just picture the fun and sweet chaos. Your word choice and alliteration is always magical and inspiring me to be a better poet. Thank you, Maureen.
Wow, Tammi, this was fun and I’m so grateful to have spent time writing during my lunch break as opposed to later when my brain is fried. Your poem is chillingly beautiful! I am in love with this new form and wanted to keep writing.
I wrote two sevenlings but they’re interconnected.
Although…
In the last two years of teaching and learning
About how to undo the damage
Of teaching and learning from a colonized curriculum
We rewrote lesson plans and redesigned units
About how to cultivate joy and genius
With an anti-racist and pro-justice pedagogy
Although many still can’t breathe
Moving from teaching about masters and slaves
To enslavers and the enslaved
Because naming people and actions matter
Teaching students that Columbus was lost
And Claudette Colvin sat down
Before Rosa Parks never gave up
Although many still can’t stand
©Stacey L. Joy, August 23, 2021
Stacey, I hope you print these out and post them in your teaching lounge – what an impressive effort by you and colleagues!! This is SO POWERFUL:
Yes, “naming people and actions matter.” Your use of the seventh line in both sevenlings is so stark and poignant…and yet speaks to the work of hope – I believe you are doing great things that will transform education and the world. Thank you!
Stacey, wow! These are fantastic! Love how you show the truth and the reason for teaching the truth. Loved “About how to cultivate joy and genius”…perfect! Your final lines expertly tie these two sevenlings together. I so want to share your poem with students…please say I can! Just can’t say enough about how wonderful I think your poems are! Thank you!
Thank you, Barb, of course you may share! ?
Stacey this is wonderful. Sadly, it is wonderful. It’s a poetic confrontation of cognitive dissonance! Naming people and actions really do matter. It’s the first day and I’ve already met with the mud and the sticks. I hope you send this out for publication somewhere. It makes me say, “YEAH” at the end.
Thank you, Linda! I’m heading into day 7 and I feel like I’ve been dragged on my eyelids from here to eternity. Hang in there and make sure to take care of SELF!
Stacey, I’m glad you kept writing. The continuation and interconnectedness is brilliant! I love what you did here.
Stacey,
As always, very powerful! I think the two sevenlings together make for an especially effective poem. Your one-liners really create a strong theme!
Stacey, gotta share this with my Mitten group.This past year we, too, met online to read, discuss and lesson plan based on Kendi and Muhammad. Many return this week armed for resistance with confidence that teaching truth is right, but scary! They, too are seeking the promised JOY but, oh boy! The anxiety is stressful!
Wow, Stacey, just wow. Wonderfully on point and perfect in this climate of reactionary pontificators. I am in awe.
Stacey, you bring “joy and genius” to this form! I love how the 7th line of each set embodies the surprise and sadness and ah-ha that the directions command. I see a growing series here with your sevenlings…keep going!
Stacey — I so appreciate the honesty of calling for the naming of these acts that have been so laced up in mythology in our history books. I’m tellin’ ya, the work that continues to push up against these old ways is daunting, and I am so grateful that you are there to “stand” tall. Keep the faith, my friend. You are so important to the students you touch. Hugs, Susie
Stacey — I love the power in these two sevenlings. They flowed together so seamlessly. These lines: “Although many still can’t breathe” and “Although many still can’t stand” really packed the punch.
Tammi, I love this prompt to respond to literature. What a challenge! I tried to capture the essence of a young adult book called Conviction by Joy Lee Gilbert, one out of a million of my favorites. Thanks for sharing this prompt today.
Conviction
Braden is the key witness
He knows the truth; an impossible choice
His conviction, a saving grace?
Minor league scouts
Buzz about his ninety-four-mile-per-hour pitch
Will he save his father?
On the mound, he prepares to face the ultimate test
Barb Edler
August 23, 2021
Barb, I don’t know this book, but you have made me very curious about it! Fascinating!
This sounds like a book I would enjoy! Your use of questions pique my curiosity. Well done!
Barb,
Your poem is a fabulous mentor text for a book snap. You’ve made me curious about this book. I can see the seventy as a good form for processing new material, too. Well done!
—Glenda
Barb — You’ll have to keep me posted about how using the sevenling grabs the interest of your new students. This sounds like a good YA novel! Way to go! Susie
Barb — I haven’t read this book but it is going on my list. It sounds intriguing! Can I borrow your poem as a sample book talk?
Tammi, thank you for this prompt and your mentor poem. That last line “she always bleeds” was rather ominous and unexpected!
__________________________________
In this current time of shifting narratives
when the relationship between veracity
and reality is tenuous at best,
do we need a coffee creamer
that “unlocks” your normal cup
of Joe to that of a rich Espresso Roast?
Yes. Yes we do. It’s quite delectable.
That sounds absolutely delectable! Yes!
We do indeed!
Yes! Concise and absolutely necessary!
Scott — I want to hear more about that “relationship between veracity/and reality”… you tap into a very real corner of the “narrative.” Coffee on, my friend! Susie
I totally agree. We do need that coffee and creamer, especially when we are sifting through the crazy narratives. Maybe the coffee can dull the headaches that ensue.
written with my 11 year old about a water slide experience. (Hopefully the formatting works)!
the big drop.
as I climbed and looked down on the tiny speckles of people
my body tightened and I could feel my heartbeat in my head
bumbumpbumbumpbumbump
as the light turned green I cross my arms over my chest sitting into the cold splashing water
swooshsplash
i slowly started moving forward and then I dropped.
🙂
P, I really enjoy the emotion and description here. I definitely could feel the tension which you captured so well with the “bumbumpbumbumpbumbump”. The sensory appeal is also strong; the “swooshsplash” delivers that extra bonus. Nicely done!
That last line is so terrifying! What an exciting experience!
I love the way the tension begins with the first line: “the big drop” and the
onomatopoeia works so well here but the ending, the ending makes my stomach drop. Just perfect!
This brought back such wonderful memories at the community pool! Daring each other to go dive “off the big board.” Love this line, “I could feel my heartbeat in my head.” So aptly described! And yes – that last line really hits a homerun! I felt my heart “drop” along with it!
My Home Across the Sea
By Nancy White
A patchwork of all the shades of green
lay below out past the wing
as we suddenly break through the clouds
It all becomes real with the first swig of Guinness
the smokestacks and brick, the doors of many colors
and the long dark walk along the Liffey
I wander with ancestors and they make me promise I will return.
Oh, Nancy, what a wonderful opening. I love the “patchwork” imagery and then the details that help place your setting. Your end is spectacular. I could feel the ghosts connecting with you, and the strong pull to be home with your ancestors. Stunning poem!
Love the very title “My Home Across the Sea” – what a glorious trip to Ireland.
I can see that land peaking beneath the wings as you break through the clouds. What a heartwarming experience it will be when you do that again. I know it will be soon because the new friends and ancestors are calling.
I love this! I want to go right now. I was raised to love Irish ancestry. “first swig of Guinness” is wonderful but the “long, dark walks” get me too.
Nancy — Holy cow…I want to be on that plane with you, heading to a place I am dying to see and experience. The “green” and “smokestacks and brick, the doors” and the long walks. Aahhh. Thanks for the journey. Susie
Nancy,
I’ve never been to Ireland, but I want to go. Love these images “first swig of Guinness” and “the long dark walk along the Liffey”
Like another poet below, I wrote a couple of different Sevenlings and couldn’t decide which I liked better, so you get both. Thank you for the fun form–I love learning new ones.
Grey clouds dim the light
That had reigned through the summer
Warming, drying, browning.
Smoke from too many fires
Permeates the clouds
Changing their intention
The necessary rain can’t fall
*************************************
Most of us willingly wear masks.
We are protecting ourselves and others.
It is the apt choice of living in this world.
Some are fighting the “restrictions.”
Demanding their right to be exposed,
the freedom to let their children die.
There are no winners in this woeful war.
Cara, both of these sevenling poems are outstanding! Thanks for sharing both! I thought about writing about the world’s troubles today, but I was too emotionally defeated to go there. I love how you capture two separate problems so effectively in so few words. Your ending lines are particularly strong, and I agree “There are no winners in this woeful war.” Kudos!
Cara,
is so powerful. And it sounds great, too.
Cara,
Wow!! Both poems are brilliant however the last line of your second just resonates with me. There really is no winner.
both are important messages that I’ve been thinking a lot about. I hope the writing process was cathartic for you! Thanks for sharing these poems with us today!
Cara — On several levels we were on the same page today. I so appreciate the reality of your poem… the drought, the masks, the children at risk. Geez… what a world! Susie
Cara — Truth! Both of these poems really resonant with me. Some days it really does feel like we are fighting a battle we can’t win. These lines: “Demanding their right to be exposed/the freedom to let their children die” — really demonstrates the insanity of our world.
Cara! I really love “smoke from too many fires/Permeates the clouds/Changing their intention” That is striking. I guess its the personification, in an unexpected way, of the clouds that I like.
Also the mask debate is such a great topic for this type of poem! Well written.
Thank you for this prompt, Tammi! I had never heard of this form before, and I think I’m addicted.
Tearful Mom and Dad gather around the red Forester with Oregon plates
I hate hugs, but I will embrace my family forever–
Necessary closure is brought by this dreadful, still moment.
Driving on I-80 West brings clarity and peace. Mountain Ranges
poke through the horizon with possibility I was always seeking–
I traverse the country and discover missing parts of me.
Tearful, I can’t wait to call Mom and Dad.
Rachelle,
Oh man did this bring back memories! I moved from California to New York and then to Oregon (where I was born) and each trip was fraught with dueling feelings of both sorrow at leaving and joy of anticipation. You brought all that right back. Awesome!
Rachelle, your poem is so moving. I feel the tears welling. Love the “poke through the horizon with possibility I was always seeking-“….so glad you found your place! Lovely! I agree with your opening comments…I feel hooked, too!
Rachelle,
Wow, so many powerful emotions in your poem. As you know I work at the high school I graduated from, so I’ve not traveled far from my family. It amazes me when other do.
Rachelle,
Saying goodbye is always so hard. You’ve captured this moment so beautifully. Love these lines– “I traverse the country and discover missing parts of me” and “tearful, I can’t wait to call Mom and Dad” and the way they demonstrate that we most sometimes leave those we love to find ourselves.
Oh, heartbreak. This speaks so clearly to moments I’ve had too. I like “I hate hugs, but I will embrace my family forever.” Also Mountain Ranges poke through the horizon with the possibility I was always seeking”. So nicely done!
Thank you for this prompt. I’ve been experimenting with various forms lately and appreciate the opportunity to explore new ones. I went back to a reflective free verse poem I wrote many years ago and converted it into two sevenlings. The second takes a different path from the original but is still related in a way. I could not decide which to share so I posted both. I hope that’s okay.
White Devil
Gloating demon I despise you
You abuse me and make me love you
Consume me as I consume you.
Rend flesh from my bones
slowly, willfully,
Like maggots in a bloated corpse.
I curse you as I push you into my veins… so warm.
In My Own Mind
You devour my willRavenous, insatiable
Force me to betray myself.
Rationalize, vomit denial.
Rejoice foul fiend
at my rabid paranoia.
Except, I’ve found someone who will listen.
Steve, wow, I feel the power of the addiction and the inner torture it creates in both of these poems. You have so many words that create raw emotion and power. “Rationalize, vomit denial” and “Force me to betray myself” show the inner conflict…the same with “I curse you as I push you into my veins…so warm”…My heart goes out to you whether this is your own particular demon or a projection. Thanks for sharing such an honest portrayal of an addiction.
Steve — Thank you for sharing both of these. These images “rend flesh from my bones”/”like maggots in a bloated corpse” were so visceral. Then your last line “I curse you as I push you into my veins … so warm” — just totally wrecked me because I could feel how the narrator was so drawn to this “white devil.” Heart-wrenching poems.
Yeesh! Agree with Tammi – so visceral! Good stuff when it elicits such strong reactions in the reader, but without necessarily drawing attention to complete darkness, but rather giving a kind of characterization to these elements of being human, of being susceptible, but also finding a path away from the dark and into the light. These are challenging subject matters, but MUST be written and shared – so thank you for that!
Great prompt, and haunting poem, Tamara! This one stumped me for a bit. I was hoping for something dramatic and meaningful, but it wasn’t meant to be…
Sevenling–Destiny?
Country girl, city boy.
Grocery line backup…
Cat food in my basket; dog food in his.
He was never going to marry, turn thirty
buy a house or have kids.
I was.
It’s been forty years now…
GJS 8/23/21
I love this! Had a giggle. Isn’t that way it should all work out?
I have a similar story. Been married over 50 years. See!
Wonderful. This could be my story as well, except I would be the He. 38 years in October.
Gayle, I love how you share this union! Your final line says it all. Beautiful!
This is grand! I adore that short line – it’s conviction: I was.
Gayle — This is perfect. Love the contrasts: “country girl, city boy” and “cat food in my basket;dog food in his”. Sounds like it was definitely destiny. You have totally captured the essence of a sevenling!
Thank you for this idea for reluctant writers (and for myself also!). I appreciate the observation that sometimes more structure is helpful.
This summer my family has been unsuccessfully (so far) searching for a house. We know just what we want in a home and are being choosy – one should be, right, when making such a huge purchase? And yet I can’t shake the discomfort from the fact that we can wait for just the right situation when SO MANY can’t get anything at all.
Home Search
Sweet home of our dreams yet unfound!
Modest, yes, but peaceful and private for soothing our frayed edges
A place for her golden tipped dreams to unfurl.
Under the bridges tents and tarps
Downtown sidewalks paved with sleeping bags and cardboard
Parks fringed (or packed!) with cars providing shelter.
Now tell me, how shall we walk this juxtaposition?
Love the juxtaposition here–your yearning for the just-right place to live is real. So is the contrast. the imagery in both sides is perfect!
Emily, what a thought-provoking poem. I have read it over and over, learning something new about myself and my assumptions each time. Wow!
Very powerful theme and imagery, and an agonizing question. I’m currently in one of the scenarios, but used to be in the other. Your verses compel me to simultaneously contemplate the dilemma while appreciating what I have. Thank you.
Emily,
This is just amazing! Such a true contrast between honoring those who have not and those that have (and being one of those). Really poignantly done–beautiful.
Emily,
Very thought provoking theme. I understand the wanting of a right fit home. I also get the worry for those who don’t have a home.
Nicely done.
Emily — Love these lines “soothing our frayed edges/a place for her golden tipped dreams to unfurl” and “now tell me, how shall we walk this juxtaposition?”
You have conveyed the moral dilemma so aptly. It is so easy to get caught up in our own dreams and so easy to forget the plight of others. I’ve been there too.
In the moonlight, summer’s paths take shape.
Cicada mulch, impatien cobblestone, feathered trail
shimmer dimensions of time.
Below lunar shrouds, what’s next hovers–
groggy step, fickle gait, wobbled turn
obscure present’s purpose.
But still, we hobble on.
Sarah — I like the hobble and cobble and wobble of this…the uncertainty of pathways…especially those that morph in the dark. “Shrouds”…oh yeah. This has elements of the tone poem here as well! Susie
Oh, Sarah…what an accurate and thought-provoking poem. I love the way you open with such a beautiful description of place. “Below lunar shrouds”…gorgeous! Absolutely adore your final line…yes, we do “But still, we hobble on”…this is the perfect descriptor for me. Love it!
lunar shrouds…what a pretty, pretty phrase.
Sarah, I sense the apprehension of one step at a time in a time of uncertainty and at the same time like the slowing down to notice the winding pathway. I feel a little groggy and wobbled and fickle as our schools are mostly hitting 2 percent rates and we are back to more strenuous protocols.
Sarah — I love all the beautiful and images “cicada mulch”, “feathered trail” and how these images evolve into a portentous feeling “shrouds”, “what’s next hovers”. Feels like age and death are creeping in.
Sarah, It seems you and I have touched on a similar theme tonight. A professor once told me all poems are about love or death. Ours are about death tonight, but I also hear love in them. Hobble on, friend.
This was a challenge until breakfast conversation about returning to the classrooms at schools, colleges, or online. Some students ask, “Why bother?” What do we say?
Get your degree!
But there’s no guarantee.
Get your degree and see.
Yea! School’s starting now
The prof will show me how
I’ll finish, I vow
But, there is no guarantee?
Your rhymes make this verse sound like a school cheer, but then we are stopped by the ending question.
That question at the end–full stop there!! today’s situation is so different from the future we faced, isn’t it?
Anna,
You really bring up a good point. The uncertainties and challenges our students face and we face these days is truly frightening.
JUST had this conversation the other day – yet again! – about how college is NOT for everyone. As a college teacher, it may surprise people to hear us say that, but even I don’t appreciate our culture’s sense that a college degree is THE pathway of THE savior of your future career self. There are so many other options. I almost wish ‘college’ meant a variety of ways to explore options, not just through credits and degrees. Because, yes, there is NO guarantee – not just that the degree will deliver what you expect, but that you’ll be happy with having achieved it. Love what you do first and foremost! Love the statement as well as question on guarantee.
I do love a challenge. I had to sit with this one a little today. Tammi, your sevenling has intrigued me. I look forward to your book. Let’s hear it for verse novels!
Pack the car for Monday–
count to five–
backpack, cold drink, purse, lunch, mask.
Principal in black-checked dress
greets me at the door,
her mask hides her mouth.
A sister died in her sleep.
(draft, Margaret Simon: My dear principal lost her sister over the weekend.)
Margaret, what a challenge we’re are having today. My heart goes out to you all, families, teachers, and administrators who knows decisions and actions have such immediate impact on the health and happiness of those we serve. Thanks for sharing and be blessed as you return to do your best.
Margaret,
I am so sorry to hear about this loss. The seveling form has this unsettling tone that juxtaposes the mundane alongside such sadness. The image of a black-checked dress shifts in meaning with that last line, the just sucks the breath out of me. Moving.
Oh my, Margaret — A sudden loss…a mask that covers the honest face of grief…this has way more than seven layers of concern! Whoof! And, I’m with you on congratulation Tammi on a verse novel! So much to “count” on. Susie
I think I stopped for a full count at the end. the set-up of everyday back-to school, and the image of your principal at the door was so poignant. Masks can hide so may things…
This breaks my heart. The principal shows up in her dress and mask, showing up to give her all when a part of her has died. I love the juxtaposition of what we feel and what we must do, and the masks add to covering of our emotions stuffed down.
Oh, my goodness. I felt every syllable of this poem…and that ending. The grief, the sorrow. I think that, “mask hides her mouth.” gives a clue but I missed it. Well done.
Margaret, I’m so sorry about your principal’s loss – she is dedicated to be there greeting her teachers today! I like your count-to-five strategy for remembering all
that you need! I need to try your trick to see if it will help me!
Margaret,
I love the way you set this poem up The clues were there “principal in black-checkered dress” and “her mask hides her mouth”– but I still didn’t expect it. That last line. Heart-wrenching.
Laurie
I had the dream
You grabbed it and ran
Sharing with me the experience
Now lying alone
Legs bent in knots
Dreaming again with the angels
Where will you be tomorrow?
Dreams often don’t leave us when we wake. You capture that feeling with “legs bent in knots.”
Oh, Susan, this is really something. You had “the” dream — that one word reveals the persistence, maybe the haunting of this dream for the speaker. And the “you” – I wonder about this “you” and the relationship here. So fascinating how the story is uncovered in this short poem. Wow.
Sarah
this creates so many questions–I want to know more. the image of “legs bent in knots”–wow. this is the beginning (middle?) of an amazing tale…
Some of you have been asking questions. This is homage to a childhood friend who always took my dreams and did them. We would get into trouble together and she said it was me that put the idea in our heads. She is now very ill.
My heart breaks for many reasons as I read this: The loss of shared dreams, legs now twisted, the unknowns of death, and the going forward with loss. I pray for dreams fulfilled beyond imagination.
Hi Susan — This poem shows so much. I feel excitement followed by pain and death? These images — “now lying alone/legs bent in knots/dreaming again with angels” are so vivid and haunting.
Brought out an old one from 1972!!!
Elusive Moment
I understand your dreams now,
those I once thought a big unreal.
I know now where you’re at and how it is you feel.
I wish that there had been more time
to find that which you sought
But the world stepped in to teach you,
there’s no such thing as Camelot.
1972
Judi Opager
A beautiful poem! One must make the most of life and actualize our dreams because time is gone quickly.
Judi,
I am fascinated by the story in this poem — the I and the you and the dream. And this allusion to Camelot is so vivid, making me wonder why the world is always interfering in our dreams. And then the year 1972. There is so much in so few lines.
…and in Camelot, they said goodbye. This poem is beautiful. Did you say goodbye as well? 1972 was a very good year…
When analyzing poetry with my students, I always ask them “what do YOU think”. Good poetry is universal and in the ear of the beholder, not just what it means to the poet. I relate your poem to all my hard lessons learned and those ignored, actions I regret and those I accept. Thank you for your reflection.
Judi — I love allusions to Camelot. This poem captures the fleetingness of time and lost dreams, love… so beautifully. Also makes me think the speaker was holding onto hopes and dreams for something unattainable.
Spilling Over
Lingering on the gravel path, the door is locked
A rainbow of zinnias, each one leaning my way,
Like puppies waiting to be petted.
Saturday mornings of substance—
Breathing, moving, stillness,
Shifting back to grace.
The pulsing headache, like boiling lava, waits to spill over.
My goodness, DIxie! I can feel the frustration of having a door locked when one has a pulsing headache. I love the image of the zinnias waiting for attention.
Saturdays are meant for “breathing, moving, stillness.” I had that headache yesterday but thankfully, it’s subsided today.
Oh, Dixie! At first reading, I saw the rainbow of zinnias rather welcoming, but after reading the final line and then returning to the first stanza, I see the “lingering” and the “rainbow” and the “waiting” as all part of the “pulsing” — so clever in the use of this form, to show the “leaning” in of it all.
Sarah
Dixie — You have some terrific images here. That “rainbow of zinnias…leaning…like puppies…” so apt a description! I went outside and stared at my zinnias doing that very lean… we’re in synch this morning. But I sure don’t want that darned headache…the lava…yikes! I love the title…may have to steal that at some point! Susie
Dixie, I feel a heightened awareness—of the zinnias, the rainbow, the stillness. Perhaps all is made more acute by the pulsating headache. Boiling lava is spot on when describing a migraine!
Oh, that last line hit me … dare I type, like a migraine? Ooooph. Life can be swimming along so well and then, bam! That headache is there. Love the zinnias waiting to be petted.
Dixie — these images “lingering”, “leaning”, “waiting” left me feeling heavy and then the “pulsing headache” was the “ah ha” moment. I totally felt it.
Tammi – what a compelling exercise, and what a haunting poem! Vibrant images and, oh my, so much more story to be told…I can see the sevenling being very popular with students across ages.
Mine is written as a tribute. Will explain after.
Facing the Inevitable
Life pivots on this point.
Resolute yet trembling at the threshold,
she considers her new place of belonging.
Releasing pent-up breath,
she encourages herself with familiar paper and pencil:
“#1 Teacher seems nice. #2 Not too scary.”
—She’s starting kindergarten.
(In honor of my granddaughter, who actually wrote that reflection following Open House)
Oh, my goodness….that’s wonderful. The first stanza had me thinking college…but kindergarten really suits!
Fran, so many new beginnings in our lives and your granddaughter has it all summed up on day 1. Connections with others gets us through our worries and makes everything ok. This is a reminder of how much little ones are processing.
Fran, those moments of her life are so beautifully preserved here in your words. What a blessing to have a grandmother-writer reflecting on the milestones. She can always look back and share these with her own children and grandchildren someday! Trembling at the threshold – – it reminds me of the picture book First Day Jitters! Such vivid imagery!
So precious! “she considers her new place of belonging” – universal! I loved it
I love it when your granddaughter sneaks into a poem like this. Drawing is a such a therapeutic activity that can lead to honest (and funny) conversations.
Fran,
Thank you for this honoring of your granddaughter starting kindergarten. I love the astute impressions of #1 and #2 and the way paper and pencil are familiar. That duo have a way of offering belonging in unfamiliar spaces.
Peace,
Sarah
Fran — Boy, you took me right back to those first moments facing school. I LOVE the perspective of this kiddo…”#1…#2…” priceless honesty from those honest eyes and hearts. Love this. Susie
Fran,
So sweet! And a perfect little keepsake about your granddaughter!
Fran — I really love the way this story-poem unfolds. It begins with all this tension “trembling at the threshold”, “pent-up breath” and then the last lines and reveal “she’s starting kindergarten”. I breathed a sigh of relief even as I recognized the real fear that children face when confronted with the unknown.
Good Morning Poets!
Thank you, Sarah, for an early prompt for those 5 am writer’s club folks. And, Tammi, what a cool form. Thanks for introducing it and giving us such a great example. I want to know more about what’s behind the lines you’ve written. I love the idea of asking students to create a poem that is also a book talk. I want to try that! The gifted teacher in my school is fun and game to try new things. I will talk to her.
Here’s my crack at a sevenling.
Is Now
On the first day of school
Just get there. Arrive
on time, in matching shoes.
All the books on the shelf
cannot tell the one story
that belongs to you
Happily ever after begins someday.
Linda – matching shoes – one of my colleagues was running late on the first day of school years back and it was well into the morning before she realized her shoes didn’t match!! love the emphasis on one’s personal story and life, and your fairy-tale wrap up.
Linda, Linda!! That chuckle in the first stanza of matching shoes – and then the squeeze of the heart when you know they all have such powerful stories…I felt laughter and tears and then assurance that this will be a great year. This is sweet!
Linda, the brevity of the title, almost as if you are running late, sits like a question (is it happening now? Already? All ready?). You’ve summed up our experiences as teachers – ready but not quite and the power of believing in our students. I’m also starting today and feel everything in this.
Hi Linda! When I read your poem, I thought of that shift teachers make from making sure we match and fill in our eyebrows, to the moment we walk into the classroom and it’s all about the students the rest of the day (and what learning and life means to them)…and if we forgot our lipstick or earrings….oh well!
Happy 1st Day, Linda!
I don’t know if you have the unmatched shoes nightmares like I do, but that was funny to read. So many strange thoughts the days before the first day. Prayers for a fantastic day today and a wonderful school year.
I love the ending and I’m wondering if happily ever after is coming soon.
I love the matching shoes. That morning rush never changes. I wish every day I could do better. Your second stanza is a great affirmation of your library work and honoring each student for his/her own story.
Linda — Such a fine teacher to recognize this…the one story that is each kid’s story…PERFECT end line…what an acknowledgement of starting/beginning/launching our lives….this both fine on a book-talk level AND on a grander scale of our each having a story to unfold. A dandy sevenling! Susie
Linda — There is so much truth to these lines: “All the books on the shelf/cannot tell the one story/ that belong to you” We really do all have our own story. On a lighter note, I have arrived at school with one blue shoe and one black shoe.
Tammi, thank you for a new form
that is simply perfect for a Monday
morning! I love the way it is a lot like a story with a beginning, middle, and end. Your sevenling is intriguing today – swimming out in rough water,
dreaming, and bleeding. Love, career,
parenting, friendship…I read this several times from different angles, thank you for inspiring us today!
A Sevenling Tribute to Mary Oliver
we had two-
our Fitz and our Boo
four of us in our household crew
then came the call: what to do?
5 hour road trip, we both knew!
and now we have a Schnoodle zoo
your name is Ollie, and we love you!
Oh, those Schnoodles…they just sound so lovey and fun and now I want one too!
I LOVE Oliver and dogs – for these are inextricably intertwined!! I’d have done the same… I am thinking, reading, your lines, about the “Matthew Effect” with young readers (“the rich get richer,” basically abundance keeps multiplying) and just now I realize how profoundly true it is of dog love as well. <3
Kim, I love your Schnoodle zoo – what fun! The joy you feel is infused throughout your poem. Welcome, Ollie!
I want to spend a day in your zoo!!! Awww!! I adore this. ❤️
Love Ollie, the Schnoodle. I want to see a picture!
Ohhh, Kim, you did it again…sucked me right in with these oodles! I LOVE the lyrical bounce of this poem. Certainly fits the doggies! I am getting the fever BAAAAAAD now. How did you find Ollie? I found ol’ Watty Boy on doodlerescue.org years ago. I peeked again finally at their website, and boy oh boy, the pickin’s are slim. I had to drive to KC to get Watty back then, but a four and half hour drive is just fine with me if there’s an Ollie or a Watty Boy or who knows out there for me. Love your poem! Susie
Kim — I just love the rhyme and rhythm to this fun poem! “Schnoodle Zoo!” — perfect!
Kim, this is so fun! Enjoy your “Schnoodle zoo”! (And my wife and I would totally have made a “5 hour road trip,” too!)
Kim,
Snug approves this “Schnoodle zoo.” He’s now wondering why he’s the only schnoodle in our animal house. Pets and kisses to your fur-babies.
—Glenda
Oh, my! Fitz, Boo, and Ollie, a trio of love. The rhyming is spectacular here, Kim–playful and fun to read aloud. Brava!