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
Jennifer lives in the mitten state where she’s been a Literature and English teacher for over thirty years. She loves working with middle grade students as they are fun, curious, and still embrace their own quirkiness. Jennifer is a frequent 5 Day Open Write and #verselove participant and host, a contributor to the Writers Who Care blog and the BlinkYA blog, and a member of #booksojourn.
Inspiration
We’re finding inspiration today by way of a meandering route, much like a Sunday drive, in both music and Sonia Sanchez. My son, who’s a college senior, has hooked me on NPR. During a recent road trip, Pines of Rome spilled into the car, its digital tag identifying it as a “tone poem,” a new moniker to me. I was curious and even more so when the NPR host stated this tone poem had inspired John William’s composition of Superman (1978)*.
A tad bit of research allowed me to discover that tone poems are single, continuous pieces of orchestral music that portray the content of a story, poem, painting, or other non-musical source. Their titles help set the scene.
Process
Choose some music for your “Sunday Drive,” from one of the tone poems below or find your own (any music that inspires you). Write in whatever form you’d like to experiment with, thinking about the story evoked by the music (teacher tip – orchestral music/movie soundtracks make for great writing prompts). As always, any words you want to share are welcome.
Tone Poems:
If this list is feeling too Sunday morning for you, turn the dial anywhere. My dad loved to play this favorite by Bob Dylan on Sundays. And there’s always Easy Like Sunday Morning.
* Curious? Listen to Pines of Rome (min mark 17:25). Can you hear John Williams’ inspiration for Superman (30 seconds in)?
Jennifer’s Poem
Composition Finlandia
(originally written to protest controlled of the press, with further inspiration by Sonia Sanchez)
This is not a small voice you hear
in tensions brass
and woodwind regality.
This is the voice of protest,
a rallying cry
driven forward
in passages expansive,
swelling along
verbal routes.
typeset pages.
and hand-lettered alleys.
The graffitied cries
rally.
(Sonia Sanchez’s poem)
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.
Chet Baker’s in my ear,
his muted horn
and whispering voice
beckoning me in to hear
this softened morning
of diffused fog and light
Chet’s breaths linger
between tongue and trumpet,
the cadence of the hours
unfold, wearily, worn aways
with his infused blue notes,
bending us towards day
Kevin
(arriving late to some of these prompts)
My Sunday drive music inspired by a day at the beach
Whooshing wind flowing by
As the waves lap along the shore
Giggling children at play
Splashing in the shallow waves
Cracking and popping as the fire burns
Ohhs and ahh as the sun inks low
Engines hum to life as the people head home
I want to be there!! I can just picture it, and I now crave it. Thanks for this symphonic poem today ❤️
DeAnna,
I love that you used the music of life as your inspiration. You paint a very clear picture of the joy on the beach.
DeAnna, I love the sights and sounds of this beachy serenade you play for us. I miss sunsets at the beach with a fire.
DeAnna, this is my favorite place to be for all its gems! Such beautiful music!
❤️
The images you have created, much like your cotton candy poem, are so clear and pop very vividly into my mind when I read the poem. Feel like I can smell that salty sea air!
DeAnna, the beach is one of my favorite places to be! I love how you created your own music with all the sounds – the whooshing and the crackling. What a cool take on this prompt!
Wooshin
I noticed the full moon last night and it made me think of a song by William Ackerman that I’ve always loved, “Conferring With The Moon.” I played it several times while writing. Thank you for the inspiring prompt. Here is the song, if you’d like to listen to it: https://youtu.be/s0mglpm8aSg
Conferring With The Moon
Last night as I drove home from seeing a play with a friend,
I looked up and saw the moon–full and bright.
It was so large and clear, that I felt a sense of peace.
The moon this month is a blue moon–
the second in a calendar month.
I used to read a book to my sons about the names
for all the different moons through the year–
today’s is the
Sturgeon,
Flying Up,
Harvest,
Ricing,
Black Cherries,
or
Mountain Shadows Moon.
I thought about the moon and it’s actions–
tempering the rotation of the earth on its axis,
creating tides that have guided humans for
thousands of generations and
pulled them to oceans and shores
with its persistent gravitational pull.
We seem to have lost our connection
to the circadian rhythms of nature–
forsaking the gifts of earth in favor of
selfishness, self-centeredness, and carelessness.
Look up, really look, and feel the pull back
to a world guided by nature and not by man.
Cara, your images are so calming and peaceful. There’s a contrast with the last part that talks about losing our connections. That part really speaks to me. I’ve been feeling that way a lot lately. Very well done.
Cara,
Another hit!! Very calming and so you.
Wow, Cara, First, I loved the teaching about the moon names for this blue moon. I had to do a little more research to learn that summer has four full moons this year, so thus the blue moon designation for this third one. What is even better is the message you give in your poem–Getting back to the “gifts of earth,” above “selfishness, self-centeredness, and carelessness” Thank you for this!
Cara, I love this call you propose to readers. It seems so simple and obvious to be guided by nature, but it’s so easy to get caught up in other things. Thank you for this poem today!
“Feel the pull” sends shivers up and down my spine. This poem and your thoughts about the moon are very striking – guiding, shaping humans for generations – this is something I roll around in my mind too!
Cara, I’m so glad I came back the next day to catch your poem. This centered me – both the music and your words, which allowed me to feel a stronger connection to the moon. I wrote a piece not long ago about all the names of the moon – such a fascinating topic. Thank you for this.
Thank you, Jennifer, for a new inspiration with tone poems. I knew when I first read the prompt this morning that I would enjoy it. I made the mistake of letting lesson planning and chores have priority over my day. Now, here it is almost 7p.m. and I am finally posting.
I used my morning motivation song to inspire a Zeppai. The song is called “Rise and Shine” by Leela James. The line that speaks to me every morning is:
Day comes after night and we gon’ be alright.
A Zeppai for Black Women
Day comes after night
Light follows our darkest times
We gon’ be alright
© Stacey L. Joy, August 22, 2021
Stacey! I love it – it is so worth the wait! This needs to be my mantra for another year of unknown. And you’ve given me a new inspiration in an artist I did not know (I’m hearing a bit of a Jackson 5 vibe in this song).
You got it!
Thanks for a little bit of encouragement as I am getting ready for the week ahead!
Stacey, thank you for sharing this hope-filled song and poem. You are leading black women to a brighter future as you continue to help us white women get out of our own blindness. Peace. Thank you.
As alway, Stacey, I feel and hear the strength in your poem. Alright indeed! Hugs, Susie
I seriously just closed my eyes and prayed to ‘make it so’ at the close of this short but powerfully rendered thought/advice/promise. Thank you for reminding me of patient strength today. Needed that.
Thank you, Jennifer, for another great prompt! I took a twist on “This is not a small voice” and wrote about my grandson who is just beginning to share words!
This is a wee voice
a tiny try
Moooo
again
Moooo
then a struggle
backward
Oooom
This is a wee voice
but commanding in its
single syllable:
Get
Get
The lumbering labrador obliges
his mite-sized master
retrieving the dropped tennis ball
again and again
This is a wee voice
like the source of the
Mississipi you can jump across
like a mustard seed
like the small mew of a tiger cub
like the first tear
of a good, long cry.
Allison, such command is held within those few wee words. The comparison to the beginnings of mightiness (source of Mississippi, mustard seed) works so well for what a little one eventually becomes. And I can feel the loss in that first tear that becomes something so much more.
That wee voice is so precious! I love how you’ve honored it in this poem.
Oh, the might of that little one exploring his voice. With just a “Get” the lumbering labrador (lovely) responds. And then the beautiful series of similes to finish it up. As always, I love the messages and words of your poems.
Allison — The similes at the end really elevate the magnitude of this seemingly “wee voice.” I so love that first tear of a good long cry… the small of a moment is part of something big and momentous. Such poetry in that! Love it. Again, I’m glad I found your poem this morning. Thank you. Susie
Fairbury
By Mo Daley 8-22-21
Rolling down I 55
For the next 90 miles
Corn
Corn
Corn
Soy beans
Corn
OOH! Wind turbine!
Corn
Construction
Construction
Crackling radio stations
Pothole after pothole
So many rural water towers
Finally the elephant ears
Welcome us
To the Fairbury Fair
And the end of summer
Mo, I think I’ve been on this same road by a different name, but I remember the corn but not much cornstruction! I love that the wind turbine is the excitement on the route. An elephant ear sounds pretty darn good right now.
Mo,
I love that the music of your poem is the journey’s sights! So many a road trip is flavored by the roads themselves. Fun poem!
This one really brought me the memories of the song “Rolling Down the River” and also the miles of corn, corn, corn I saw in Iowa. Loved the rural water towers in the small towns. Where is the 55, Mo?
I live in a south suburb of Chicago. My son and his family live in Fairbury, IL, 90 miles southwest of us. We headed down to the Fair this morning.
Oh, I’ve been there across Iowa, different numbers, same route! Haha! I hope you enjoyed the fair.
You poem brings back memories of a road trip to Kansas, corn fields everywhere, with a few soy bean fields and wind turbines thrown in. I can close my eyes and picture it. Thank you for sharing.
No – You took me on a road trip that certainly rings true! Love that corn and beans… whizzing past. You captured the movement. Love it! Susie
Jennifer, I can hear the graffiti in your poem; it’s protest loud and clear. Thanks for sharing the tonal poems and your prompt today. After visiting my mother-in-law in a care facility, watching her struggle to breath, I’m searching for serenity.
August Breeze
August breeze,
bring me peace
a golden heart
a warm hand
to help me understand
how the trumpet vine’s
brilliant bloom
still shines in the shadowy gloom
Barb Edler
August 22, 2021
Barb, I’m so sorry that you are experiencing this – yet, what a gift that you are able to be there alongside your mother-in-law. Your poem is so poignant. Hoping for serenity for you and your family!
Barb— The trumpet vine is a strong image… the tenacity of that brilliant orange. You have a tender heart in this poem… a sadness in that “warm hand.” I’m so sorry that today held that sadness. I felt that gloom today too. I need a shift in the “breeze” for sure. Hugs, Susie
Barb, what a soothing poem. You’ve found the serenity you were searching for – thank you for sharing that with us. I love the warmth it invokes. I’m sending healing thoughts to your MIL
Barb, This prayer to the August breeze has the rhythm and gentle rhymes that soothe the ear, the heart. The contrast of the bloom/shadowy gloom is powerful. Thinking of you.
Ahhh, Barb, I needed this. It’s been one heck of a week and I wasn’t able to totally unwind or center myself this weekend. Your poem is my soul’s elixir! Thank you!
I read your poem before reading your message. My heart hurts for you and your mother-in-law. How did you craft such a peaceful and calming poem? Wow, even more remarkable. The poem gave me total peace. Prayers for your loved one. ?
Golly, Jennifer . . . you sure are presenting us with unique, challenging prompts! I knew that this one would throw me for a loop and that I would ruminate on different things before settling into to compose the poem. Just last week, my teacher daughter and I watched my favorite teacher movie of all time, Mr. Holland’s Opus. While, I love the movie as a whole, the ending when he conducts the symphony is one of the most powerful scenes in all moviedom. CLICK HERE for a video of it. I wanted to really get to the tone of the music and I tried to breakdown various instruments’ effect on the piece, but I simply don’t know enough about that. So, I focused in on Glenn Holland’s resistant entry into teaching.
Life’s Work
A dream, an ambition
to compose and perform
to be famous, to make millions
Reality strikes
bills need paid, food on the table.
Go to Plan B
temporarily.
Except temporary became permanent
Life’s what happens when you’re busy making other plans.
Days spent teaching
planting the seeds of love for music
Evening spent composing
filling his heart with his passion.
A challenging, disappointing child
shoves his interest more and more toward school
His students became his children
Inspiring, pushing, motivating, mentoring.
Spanning four decades
of trends and changes and shifted priorities
At the end, he felt his life misspent.
Enter the symphony–
HIS symphony–
performed by all ages of former students
He takes the baton,
the emotion bared
his face a peephole into his heart
The music mimics his career
traditional yet contemporary
smooth yet edgy
classic AND rock
old but new.
The pure joy reflected on his face
as the broad range of instruments
culminate in power
reflective of a life that
went in an unexpected direction.
His baby–his life’s creation–being played
on his final day
by former students
in front of former students.
satisfaction spread across his face
not just because of hearing his creation
being brought to life
but finally realizing
the lives his touched
and how those lives touched his
the melodies and notes of his opus
~Susan Ahlbrand
22 August 2021
One of my favorites, as well. And a perfect write for that tear-making conclusion!
Susan — This is, indeed, a powerful movie and your poem took me to that opus and how we spend, sometimes squander, our moments that are so in conflict with our hearts. Your poem captured the intensity of time elapsing, the moments that brought Mr. Holland to face his creation and evaluate what it meant…the incubation of creativity and genius…the waiting, the reality of touching lives. The narrative of both the movie and your poem are “edgy.” As I look back over the decades of teaching and creating and making meaning, I feel this poem really hits home. Thank you! Susie
Brilliant…”peephole into his heart.”
Susan, I am going to save the viewing of that powerful scene until I can watch the entire movie (can’t believe I haven’t watched this yet, but stuff happens when we’re busy), but your poem fully captures the spirit of a teacher, especially in our unknowing of how we affect others through our own opuses (opi? I’m going to have to look that up!).
Susan, you have captured such a moving experience so well. What a wonderful introduction to a person’s true story and inspiration. Thanks, too, for the video link!
Oh, I’m crying now having read your poem and watched the conclusion. I love that movie too. Beautiful.
(inspired by Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah!”)
I Step
Steady, steady
the force of love
through life
going on
I step, I step.
From birth to death
I carry love’s lessons
and spill them out
from the brim of my heart.
Blessed as a child
by those who loved me
given friends that loved me too.
A God from above
showed me a lot to love
caring between me and you.
To love one another is what I heard.
A blaze of light in every word.
Share kind feelings to all you know.
steady, steady the flow.
Sometimes I don’t feel it strong
but those friends and family move it along.
I step, I step
climbing above
to shout from the rooftops
the words of love,
hallelujah!
Susan, this is a Sunday song poem for sure! The movement of your piece, the steps to carry us forward, to climb above, to find one another, offer hope, much like the hallelujah to celebrate.
Susan — You’ve selected one of my favorite songs ever. You do justice to the beauty of Cohen’s tone. The sense of “climbing” is real. I have to listen to the song once again. Thank you! Susie
Susan, I can totally relate to your poem today. The love that helps us carry on is indeed incredibly deep. Loved the lines “To love one another is what I heard.
A blaze of light in every word.” This poem sure shows your passion and generous heart!
The repetition of ”Steady, steady” and “I step, I step” give a pulse to this poem that progresses to the climax of “climbing above” and shouting “hallelujah!” You show us that love’s journey is a lifelong process that ebbs and flows.
I’m one of those friends, Susan. And I am blessed by our friendship.
Yes, we are blessed to be friends.
Understanding music,
it seems to me,
is more than just
understanding sound
waves striking the
tympanic membrane.
Yes, you can
describe the
waves as mechanical,
longitudinal, or
pressure,
articulate
their wavelength,
amplitude, frequency,
time-period, or velocity,
explain,
quite calmly,
that they are just a
transfer of energy
from one point
to another,
but that does not
explain the full
embodiment
that reverberates
through you when
listening to
Led Zeppelin’s
“Kashmir.”
And you can know
the history, the
backstory, how
Robert Plant wished
this was their most
famous song
or how it really isn’t
about northern India
at all
but a long drive
In southern Morocco.
Yes, you can know
all of this, but not
know why it effects
you so, and by you,
I, of course, mean me,
as I close the
Wikipedia tab, crank
the volume, and
continue rocking
my head back
and forth.
I see you, my friend. Your poem creates the cadence for the movement…
Your poem aptly shows how music is greater than the sum of its parts. Music as math is undeniable, but the heart and soul is why we listen.
Scott, it’s always interesting to me how some songs simply resonate broadly while others captivate a limited audience, and how some jump immediately at you while others are a slow-burn to appreciation. You make me wonder why Robert Plant wished this was their most famous and why it didn’t achieve that recognition. But I am rocking my head back and forth, listening to Kashmir and thinking of Morocco, not India.
Scott — You address the beauty that is music and the way it affects me. I love this…not to mention LZ and Robert Plant (I’m a junkie for all of this). There’s a music channel here in STL that has some talking head “explain” the music, that backstory, blahblahblah…and while I appreciate that information, the reason I listen is to reach that “rocking/my head back and forth.” I love the feel of this poem. Thank you. Susie
Scott, what a great break down of the power of music. Loved “understanding sound
waves striking the
tympanic membrane.”
Music truly has a life of its own. I know it has the power to affect my mood and to make my body move, too:)
Scott,
Your poem pulled me along (as does a song), first with your scientific vocabulary, then with the Robert Plant narrative…then (wow!) this great concluding sequence:
“and by you,
I, of course, mean me,
as I close the
Wikipedia tab, crank
the volume, and
continue rocking
my head back
and forth.”
I love how you switched from “you” to “me” and let us SEE you in the music.
Scott,
There were several things about your poem that spoke to me. First, the stanza about what sound is scientifically. My mother had surgery on one of her ears a few weeks ago and I’ve spend a lot of time trying to understand exactly how we do hear–the loss of a sense makes me think of how that sense works. Second, the feeling that music gives you. Oh, how true it is–music transports us. It doesn’t necessarily fit the intention of the musician, but it speaks to our soul in ways that are inexplicably primal. Great poem.
Indoor Riding Gets Me Out
To stay toned during Michigan winters
I ride my bike indoors
To get me outside without going out
I listen to music on my phone
When riding my bike indoors
The music usually is instrumental
The choice usually is incidental
When riding my bike indoors
Often the tunes are Christian hymns
The music takes me outside on whims,
When riding my bike indoors
Thoughts of family, thoughts of a friend
Evoking warm memories, not the cold wind
When riding my bike indoors
Sometimes I think of Sunday School
Sometimes I recall acting so like a fool
When riding my bike indoors
I look at the hangings on the wall
They show the Redwoods and a beach but no ball
When riding my bike indoors
No riding on Sunday, that’s a rest day
A sort of a Sabbath, to meditate, not play
Then, I don’t ride my bike indoors.
I love the rhythm of this poem and the way riding your bike indoors transports you into nature, into music, into church and into friendship. I’m riding along with you in this poem.
Anna, I can feel the spinning of the bike wheels in each of these stanzas – in the sets of three, the repeated line, the ease of the rhymes. Such a perfect way to get out during our winters!
Anna, I love the joyous rhythm of your poem. I imagine you composing this piece as you were riding your bike today.
Barb… ummm. Today is Sunday. 🙂 I just took a picture of the bike today. Tomorrow…back at it. 🙂
Ugh! The dreaded “stationary bike.” Now that’s an oxymoron! I’m glad you can find enough inspiration to ride it that often. I have to get audiobooks and bargain with myself that I can only listen when I ride! This is a great line, “The music takes me outside on whims,” showing the reader the difference in experience between the body and the mind. I will keep your inspiration in mind once I am forced to cease riding outside and move back in.
[Jennifer — the prompts these two days so far have been really good, as is your beautiful wordsmithing in your mentor poems…thank you so much! Susie]
“GLOOMY SUNDAY” WITH BILLIE HOLIDAY
https://youtu.be/KUCyjDOlnPU
Billie’s voice sways low and slow
like the sultry summer air through silk curtains
that barely lift
at open midnight windows
when Sleep refuses,
like a bruise that won’t fade.
Last night was such a night…
the naked hours of Sunday,
not the end of Saturday,
but the lost hours of Sunday
on the a.m. face of the clock
dimly lit, bluing across the room;
caught in steamy sheets, tossing,
thrashing to lock arms with Sleep
that kept pushing me away
and awake;
Sleep, with taunts, promises,
lies and piracy, stealing
minutes and hours
in return for Sunday blues.
by Susie Morice, August 22, 2021©
Wow — I really love these lines:
“like the sultry summer air through silk curtains
that barely lift
at open midnight windows”
I feel the sleepless nights and hear Billie’s voice in your beautiful words.
This…when Sleep refuses,/like a bruise that won’t fade. every night. You nailed it!
Ooooh, Susie! I am feeling Billie Holiday swooning through your piece! That “bluing across the room” is everything. But I feel every bit of this, the lost hour, steamy sheets, the pushing away of Sleep. I think we’re near a full moon and that wreaks havoc with sleep. And Sunday blues is the perfect vibe.
Wonderful sensory images in this…naked Sunda hours…bluing across the room.
Susie, your poem is beautiful and rich with imagery. Thanks for sharing the link. I’m sorry you couldn’t find your sleep, but I love the rhythm of your poem, and the sensational imagery.
Loved this opening:
“Billie’s voice sways low and slow
like the sultry summer air through silk curtains
that barely lift
at open midnight windows”
You’ve definitely captured the emotions of the blues throughout, friend. Hugs! Barb
Dang, Susie!!! I am not sure if I wanted Sleep to be a man or what? LOL. I love it! I’m such a sucker for alliterations with “s” and you delivered…
This may be one of my favorites of your collection!
❤️?steamy!
Haha! I had to re-read Susie’s poem after I read your comment, Stacey! Steamy, indeed.
“the lost hours of Sunday” and “thrashing to lock arms with Sleep” are such true and powerful images of those sleepless nights that cause a gloomy Sunday. Well told, Susie.
Thank you, Jennifer, for this new-to-me concept! I love Pines of Rome, which I was fortunate enough to see it performed by the Kansas City symphony with special guest Yo-Yo Ma! My partner has a special passion for classical music and one of his favorite pieces is Jupiter by Gustav Holst. This is part of a larger series called The Planets. The pieces are filled with imagery which makes the series a good example of a tone poem (I think!)
Inspiration: Jupiter by Gustav Holst
Jupiter, Bringer of Jollity
Look! In the dark blanket
of the heavens you will see
the bringer of jollity
(the fourth-brightest light)
invites you to delight
on this happiest night.
Even if the day was filled with drear,
in this moon-beginning
the merry celestial-being reminds you
there is always room for cheer!
Let the anticipation of celebration
fill within you.
Then, raise your glass–
reaching toward Jupiter–
but offer yourself a toast
because the host insisted
you deserve it the most:
Tonight you are alive.
Through it all, you have survived!
You really have captured jollity in this poem. Love the theme of celebration and joy in living.
Rachelle, my son is a huge music and movie fan so I asked him if he knew who Gustav Holst was and he said, “yeah, he did the planets – he believes Jupiter was used by John Williams in Star Wars (we were able to get tix to see the Chicago Symphony conducted by JW a few years ago for my son’s bday). I love your dark blanket of the heavens – what a beautiful background for the celestial-being.
Our high school symphonic band plays Jupiter every year at graduation. It has always roused emotion in me, especially when our daughter was a percussionist and the piece got percussion-heavy.
Your poem reveals so much more about the composition.
I absolutely love
Rachelle, beautiful! I loved hearing about the inspiration. I’m sitting here now, raising my tea cup, in a toast to being alive. Lovely, cheerful and merry music and poem!
Rachelle,
Oh what a lovely celebration of being! I love that you threw in a few kennings for good measure, too. Rich, wonderful imagery. A favorite:
“in this moon-beginning
the merry celestial-being reminds you
there is always room for cheer!”
Rachelle,
Wonderful job today. The celebration I this poem come through. My favorite line “Tonight you are alive.
Through it all, you have survived!”
I love “Even if the day was filled with drear…there is always room for cheer!” So well worded and crafted. Thank you Rachelle!
Jennifer, you have shared a fascinating prompt today! I am impressed by how the music led you to write about press freedom, and I especially like these lines:
Back when I was teaching, I would play instrumental music as I prepped my classroom at the start of the day, in those busy minutes before the children arrived. The song
Booker T. & The MG’s – Green Onions (Official Audio)
was first on that playlist, always putting me in a great mood, ready for anything the day would throw at me. I’m retired now, but this new, challenging school year ahead was on my mind as I wrote this ‘peppy little poem’ – enjoy!
let’s go,
let’s go,
let’s go now,
time to get ready
time to do do do
so much to do
the children are coming
yes
this year
it does feel scary
let’s remember
keep our minds and hearts
on children
always
always
always
we can do this
we can do this
we can do this
all of us
find the will
find the way
for children
It’s a new day
won’t be
same old
same old
same old
we’ll work together
we’ll learn together
we’ll laugh together
with the children
another day
another start
another gift
time with children
love these children
children at the heart
we’ll get through this
let’s go
let’s go
let’s go now
Maureen — What a perfect poem for this August Sunday when so many will be back in the classrooms tomorrow or soon. I love the call to “remember the children”… the very reason we do this teacherly work. Love this. Susie
Maureen –Thank you for this refreshing reminder of why we do what we do everyday. It is for the children always. The repetition of your phrases really works well to express both energy and urgency.
Maureen, I too played music to start the day and many class periods began with “theme” music.. My middle school and high school students often wondered when the music changed. What’s going on today! My favorite lines from your poem describe the main reason I enjoy our profession so much and now this group of poetry writers:
we’ll work together
we’ll learn together
we’ll laugh together
Thanks for sharing.
This is a great cheer to start the school year. Let’s go!
Maureen, I have heard this song so many times and had no idea it was called “Green Onions.” I think it’s going to have to be my mood song this year too. It was a perfect backdrop to your words – I could chant them along in the rhythm of the song. So fun!
Maureen, you’ve captured the feelings of urgency so well in this poem. That frenetic energy of the first days of school. Have a great year…I hope it will not feel like you have to get through it, but it feels more like a special time and a gift!
Maureen, I didn’t recognize the name of the song, but I definitely recognized it when I listened to it. Your sweet peppy song is perfect. Thanks for the encouragement you’ve given to teachers to make today a great day. Let’s go!
My musical inspiration was the symphony in my backyard; the birds singing, insects buzzing, and the wind whispering through the leaves.
Life,
How could you not appreciate it
Simple and complex
For a moment; for eons.
Movement,
How could you not…
Rhythm and chaos
Soaring on wing; convulsing.
Energy,
How can you…
Create and destroy
Purview of gods; cosmic zeal.
Symbiosis,
How…
Taking and giving
Scarcely allied; dependent.
Life,
How could you not appreciate it.
Steve — You sure captured the uplifting sense of a vibrant backyard! I liked the “simple and complex” dynamic of it…so simple and yet not in the least bit simple. Thanks! Susie
Absolutely love this line “For a moment; for eons” – this captures the magical beauty of nature’s serenade. Love that your symphony was your backyard!
Steve — I love the appreciation for the natural symphonies! I love the exploration of dichotomies and all the multitudes in between. You hooked me into your poem with the first stanza: “Simple and complex / For a moment; for eons.” How can I not appreciate it?
Steve — Love this line: “For a moment; for eons” and the juxtapositions throughout. You have truly captured the complexity of awe inspiring nature. It really is something to appreciate.
Steve, I love the fading out of the initial question, as if each moment takes more absorption, focus, and interest and the question fades into the background a bit. And using a natural symphony is brilliant.
Jennifer! Thank you for this prompt. It was quite restful to take some to listen and write what came to my heart. My inspiration comes from this melody ‘Wild Heart‘. With everything that is going on around us, I cannot help but think how we can be light, and peace for so many.
Rescue
A green meadow and a sunset horizon.
With the wind in my hair,
I ride on my stallion.
I ride towards war, towards injustice,
towards suffering…
with light,
with peace,
with perseverance.
I come to rescue the innocence
that cries out.
I come to set you free.
Hold on.
The journey is tough, but I believe we will conquer.
Christine, I appreciate the hope your words offer here. It’s captured in every stanza, offering light and peace. It will take perseverance to bring us through, but it can be done. Thank you for giving us that uplift today!
This music piece is new to me and I thoroughly enjoyed listening to it as I read your poem. Beautiful, hopeful words. I am struck by “I come to set you free. Hold on.”
Powerful piece, Christine! It made me feel braver and want to saddle up and do the hard work necessary to fight injustice and suffering. The imagery is tough and noble.
A perfect match of song and words—you moved TO the melody. Beautiful!
Christine, I’m so glad you wrote today. What a stirring music piece and a poem of hope and a future. It is a powerful image of riding into the pain and suffering, but with
With rescue and freedom. Wonderful, my friend.
I used to love playing Gershwin on the piano and as part of my senior recital I performed his three Preludes. This poem is based on the slow and mostly melancholy Prelude No. 2 which I adore.
Summer Surprise
(Inspired by Prelude No.2 by George Gershwin)
The unrelenting sun
burned through my thin poplin dress
The cardboard in my shoes
flapped against the hard-packed dust
of the path leading away
from the chores of the monotonous Monday.
I stopped when I reached the lake’s edge,
my calloused fingers fumbling to find my lighter
when suddenly you appeared from out of nowhere.
With a gallant tip of your fedora,
with a shiny gold flash and flourish,
you gave me a wink and a light,
a quick smile of bright-white.
I must have blushed as I mumbled thank you
and as you walked away you jumped up with a jaunty clicking of heels,
looked over your shoulder,
and grinned.
I began the slow walk home and arriving,
dripping with humidity, I drew water from the pump,
and gazed wearily at the weeds still waiting.
My heart beat faster as I remembered you winking,
and suddenly I felt a glimmer of hope.
Nancy, what fun. Your poem is such a beautiful period piece, like part of a verse novel. (jaunty, fedora, cardboard in shoes, hard-packed dust–it can be a history lesson too.) “I remembered you winking / and suddenly I felt a glimmer of hope.” Wonderful.
Nancy, your poem made me smile! The imagery is beautiful and transported me. I felt the emotions, I saw the colors. Absolutely beautiful.
Nancy, this poem is a slow-moving picture capturing mood and moment and narrative, everything imagined so exactly, I felt I was sitting in an old theater and the music was being performed in person. What a fun and interesting take on this prompt! I want to “see” the rest of this!
Nancy — I really loved the story images of this. And thinking of you at the piano…ooo, I so love that. Pieces that carried me into the narrative…that poplin dress…hard-packed dust…a path that leads away….then the light and the gesture with the hat…. definitely a mood…a tone and mood of something that was worth waiting for. Thank you! Susie
Your poem took me to another time and place! I loved listening to this song while reading your poem, and could completely imagine the scene you painted. This line jumps out at me, delightfully – “With a gallant tip of your fedora” – yes, a fedora fits this music so well! I can’t help but wonder, is this pure fiction or a distant memory? Just lovely!
This is terrific! Now I will always vision this gallant person with a fedora and flash of a wink.
Oh, wow. May I see the rest of this musical? Please?
Jen,
Wow, this prompt and your poem was a lesson in itself. Your images of musical instruments tied into the equipment of printing was powerful. “verbal routes. / typeset pages. / and hand-lettered alleys.” Great image of expansive swelling in the music and the word spread through print.
I have learned a lot today, and listened to a lot of beautiful music. Thank you for the Sunday drive! (Though I stayed home.)
For my poem, I listened to some of the Lord of the Rings soundtrack and watched images of the Shire here: https://youtu.be/K69tbUo3vGs The peaceful scenes and tone poem of that soundtrack had my mind going in two opposite directions. Frodo said about leaving the Shire: “I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again.” I used this quote to write a golden shovel.
Home
I am emptied by the news because Fred, Grace, and Henri
shall not stop their onslaught, and I
know they have siblings waiting
that will continue to ravage people and land.
Somewhere in Mexico,
there are families weeping, imploring,
“Is that grace?” And now Henri is storming New England, and
A cry arises from Afghanistan and Haiti and—God help! Is there a
Firm thatched roof, blue skies, and cirrus clouds, a
Foothold for a symphony of flowers, a launch for delicate butterflies?
Even old trees and honeybees find a place to be.
If there isn’t an expanse big enough for all, can we at least make
my prayer and yours to grow sweet-hope homes? Maybe our
feet can walk with the refugees and the broken until we
cannot help but find restful room for all to be, to
stand and share the waving hills and tender streams.
There–to create a home to return to
again and again.
Ah, Denise. So many indeed are in dire need of that firm foothold. Such bittersweet truth and irony in:
I love “sweet-hope homes” and pray for the whole world that we may have open hearts and hands to those displaced.
Denise, yes. YES. Home. This poem moved me, dear friend. It reminded me of the brokenness we are so close to and cannot quite reach. Home is such an abstract concept sometimes, and I really liked how you described the many ways we could find home.
“to create a home to return to/again and again”. Wow. Yes.
You chose a firm foothold for your poem with this striking line, a way to write about today with a lining of sweet-hope.
Denise, I needed all of this today – at first I thought I just needed the music, but then I needed Frodo’s quote. And most of all, I needed your words. How can we not be emptied by the news. But you bring us back to a hopeful end, to the “there,” to the place where home is created to return to, “again and again.” In tears with you and your words.
Denise — You did indeed take this into those two directions… the tug of the shire and its peace and the unknown calamity of Afghanistan and Haiti… I love the idea of
“walk[ing] with the refugees and the broken”… the open heart of that is inspiring. As large numbers of Afghanis are heading to STL, (we have quite a few already) I hope there is sure footing for everyone. A home for everyone. Thank you! Susie
Denise, such an amazing choice, to write a golden shovel with this line, with this music as a muse. Oh, the pain in the world, so much at once. Your poem captures this. These lines are particularly poignant, I think:
Lovely. Thank you!
Denise, I am inspired by how well you captured everything with a tight structure like the golden shovel, which I always find difficult to do. With everything going on, I have needed to take more breaks from social media and everything. This poem gives me hope and reminds me of the resilience of people and how I may help. Thank you for your words today!
What a beautiful plea The prayers in this — so many, so big and overwhelming to me. I enjoy the turn in your poem, “Even old trees and honeybees find a place to be.”
So beautifully crafted and rendered, Denise – “God help!” indeed. This prayer for “restful room for all of us” – “For even old trees and honeybees find a place to be.”
So much suffering all around, whether living in the path of those storms and their siblings, or in a homeland one is desperately trying to escape…yes, let us pray for the footholds, for the helping hands, for the loving hearts. Let us BE those – for there truly is room for us all. It is a prayer of faith and hope – and a heart-cry for action.
Denise, such beauty in your words today! I particularly am drawn to these lines
Firm thatched roof, blue skies, and cirrus clouds, a
Foothold for a symphony of flowers, a launch for delicate butterflies?
Even old trees and honeybees find a place to be.
the imagery and the feelings of nature are strong and beautiful!
Jennifer, this was a lovely Sunday morning prompt. Your poem is well-crafted beside Sonia Sanchez and Pines of Rome. Listening, I was taken back to another time, when we could attend a symphony concert in person. Ah, me. Will it happen again? You will also see touches of yesterday’s prompt in my poem today.
Attending the Symphony After a Pandemic
All of me
wants to climb
inside the orchestra
where blowing air
is acceptable and fresh
full of sound
vibrating strings
wind-wood and brass
lips pursed in a flute-kiss
welcoming our worn bodies
into healing air
percussion that pulses
my heart-rhythms.
This is where
I long to be
sitting next to you
in a cushioned chair
touching pinky fingers
loving every
life-filled minute.
Margaret, I adore this poem for how you’ve brought me into a space where blowing air is accepted and needed, where they make music with breath rather than infect. And the pinky fingers…lovely.
Oh Margaret, wow. I’m so glad the Sunday morning music inspired this beauty. I love “flute-kiss” and sitting on “a cushioned chair / touching pinky fingers.” I guess I hadn’t really thought about how long it is going to take to be post pandemic enough “where blowing air / is acceptable.” 🙁 How sad, and what a lovely poem you wrote today. I hope it comes soon.
Margaret, thank you for placing us into a space we have missed for so long. I love the heart-rhythms and the flute-kiss, along with the healing air. Oh, how I long for that healing air, and these spaces too. Beautiful!
Such an incredible connection to live symphonic music –
“where blowing air
is acceptable and fresh”
I love this!
Amen…I love even the smell of the horn oil and the bow resin. I want to be sharing beauty with friends again. “Flute kiss” is wonderful!
When I read this I knew right away you were longing for the symphony. Our outdoor symphony has started again but because of safety concerns, we are not opening for these indoor concerts. Oh how I miss them. I miss the formality of the cushioned chair and the vibration of indoor sound. One just can’t get the percussion pulses quite like being at an indoor symphony!
Yesterday I saw photos of students in my district, taken last year as they endured “school” in the pandemic. One teenage boy in band was playing a trumpet with a mask. I don’t know how that’s even possible. “Blowing air/acceptable and fresh” – the longing is real.
Margaret— I love this. Every life-filled minute of it…
I am pulling forth a poem I wrote last year. My cousin, thr sister of my heart for 66 years, passed away two nights ago. “Old Friends” and this poem are my tribute to our long and loving friendship…
https://open.spotify.com/track/1upHAZPnlMGpJUwuEH68d1?si=zqAehiBERYGugwdjD4gt4Q&dl_branch=1
Coffee With You
For Dianne
Coffee with you feels like punctuation.
Commas, questions marks, exclamation points
marking the phrases of our lives.
So many sentences, so many paragraphs
So many chapters. Some joyous; some full of tears.
But what a wonderful book it is.
Coffee with you feels like such a long time ago
Coffee with you feels like the end of long walks in
New York winter, wind-driven snow stealing our breath
Anticipation of steam rising from a sturdy cup
Coffee with you feels like 2 AM let’s-not-go-home-just-yet
A table between us, too much cream and sugar
Talking about boys we lost, or wanted to lose, or wanted to win.
Coffee with you feels like small kitchens, silver percolators
burbling as we stumbled about, planning the day,
planning our lives (even though we didn’t know it then).
Coffee with you feels like “I haven’t seen you in forever”
But it doesn’t matter, because time is irrelevant
when you have spent so many years knowing each other’s hearts.
Coffee with you feels like coming home
to the person who knows me longest
knows me best, knows me deepest.
Sixty five years of friendship,
Coffee feels like love.
Coffee feels like us.
Let’s have coffee soon, my friend.
Gayle, tears for you this morning. This poem says so much about your relationship with your sister. The anaphora of “Coffee with you feels like…” definitely sets a tone and carries it through. I’m so sorry for your loss. Prayers for peace.
Gayle, I’m so sorry for the loss of this sweet sister-cousin. I remember when you wrote another poem about her recently, but I can’t find it. A lifetime sister of the heart friendship. I’m so sad you had to lose her. I like that last line. Someday.
Gayle, hugs and love to you on the loss of your sister of the heart. I feel as if I’m having coffee with the two of you. What a powerful way to connect us to her. It’s such a simple act – having coffee with someone – but you share the impact of that simplicity as well as the comfort that those most basic traditions bring.
Gayle, oh, I’m so teary after reading this, thinking about it’s the simple things shared that we miss the most. I’m so sorry about the loss of your sister of the heart. I hope you feel surrounded by her love and your shared memories always.
Gayle — I am so sorry for your loss. Such a beautiful poem, a tribute to the sharing you’ve had. I ache to think of losing my dearest cousin…can’t breathe when the thought settles on me. Sending love, Susie
Gayle, I am so sorry for your loss. How precious your friendship and love, how precious this guitar instrumental is with this poem. May you sense her presence every day, with beautiful memories!
Gayle, please accept our condolences for the loss of your dear sister-cousin. Your closing lines sum up the pleasure you’ll experience again, over another cup of coffee, because the aroma and taste will evoke fond memories. Let them come. They will help sustain until you meet again.
Gayle – so beautiful and haunting – a lovely, lovely remembrance of a beloved one. I am sorry for the loss of your cousin. I love the coffee imagery throughout, “marking phrases of our lives” – and this line is searing: “Coffee with you feels like a long time ago.” Such longing in it.
Jennifer—heven’t even begun yet, but what a wonderful inspiration!
Jennifer, what a lovely and fun experience this morning!
I so enjoyed this prompt, where it took you and where it took me in my journaling. Your poem is full of evocative language. “voice of protest, rallying cry, swelling…” Love it!
My rec for music is the cello music of Stejpan Hauser. It’s beautiful. My favorite is ‘Live from Zegreb’ https://youtu.be/g91kQyy4G7E
playing around with the beginning of a ghazal here:
What and where is poetry in this?
fingers slip-scrabble and fall for this
Meet me at Saint Friday’s platia
We’ll have a coffee and more of this
Traffic in the roundabout spins on
Fiddle echo to a cello score for this
Linda, I adore Hauser – his music and the settings he chooses for his videos! You have created in words a very European feel with your ghazal – meeting for coffee and those traffic circles spinning like the strains of music kind of bringing to mind an old phonograph! Plus to top it all off you kept an onomatopoeic kenning. I like that your lines all end in “for this.” Yes, this is a lovely score!
I’m so pleased to see you working on a ghazal. Such a challenging form. I love it so far and feel like I’m with you at a cafe in Italy. Love “slip-scrabble.”
Linda, I’m listening to Hauser play the cello now while I read and write. I hope you will keep writing that beautiful ghazel. It sounds natural and beautiful like the musical inspiration you chose. And as Kim said, with a European flair.
Linda, your words evoke the music beautifully! There’s a spiraling feel to the music that is echoed in the ghazal. What a peaceful piece of music (I’m listening as I read and type – a perfect spot of serenity on a Sunday). I so want to keep reading this when you finish it. My favorite line: “fiddle echo to a cello score for this” – just beautiful.
I love a cello, Linda, with its warm, deep tones – so many layers, as in your ghazal here – I want to write a ghazal! I also want to be at the platia having the coffee hearing the fiddle and the cello against the traffic – so vivid, so inviting. And so very poetic!
Jennifer, what a lovely morning to take a Sunday “drive!” I’m loving the music tone poems and what you’ve done here. I sure heard Superman – I think the director was the Superman; in the end the ovation would not end for him! Your poem proclaims unity in the swelling voices, as “graffitied cries rally!” Beautiful!
I listened to Walk to the Paradise Garden and used those shadow images for ideas and The Isle of the Dead’s mood for tone. I selected four Billy Collins lines to write a quadruple Golden Shovel in this order: sunlight slathered over everything (A Sight); full of blue shadows (My Funeral); and bright white waves (The Emperor of Ice Cubes); behind the floral wallpaper (The Country). Since the lines are long, it may not format exactly to see the vertical alignment.
Grief
Sunlight casting full gloom and doom
truths behind the scenes
slathered in contrast of a bright facade:
the undeniable reality
over skies of blue, wispy white clouds,
withered floral requiems toll
everything now empty shadows, grief waves expose the wallpaper smiles
woah. That’s ambitious…quadruple golden shovel. But, look at that! “floral requiems” and, “grief waves” and, “wallpaper smiles.” What incredible use of language here. Love your crack at this. And, I agree…what a lovely morning for a drive.
This poem stands alone, but is all the more of a puzzler with the Golden Shovel lines. I hope you post it on your blog so I can see the formatting. Adventurous and poignant.
Kim, I just listened to Linda’s cello music, and now I’m listening again to Rachmaninov. Wow! I’m becoming more cultured today. I love how you challenge yourself so often. You are a great role model. A quadruple golden shovel–what a feat. I tried a double recently, and that was hard enough.
This line is especially making me feel sad for some reason: “grief waves expose the wallpaper smiles”
Kim, I admire your ability to craft this quadruple Golden Shovel, which must not be easy but reads beautifully and belies the work behind it. That contrast between sunlight and wispy white clouds with the withered floral requiems and the gloom and doom sits starkly opposite. But it’s the hints – the “truth behind the scenes” and the exposed “wallpaper smiles” – that give the pause and make me delve deeper (which I love to do!).
Kim – a what a word, song, and tone tapestry – and grief is all these things, these images. Shadowy truth behind scenes, ever-present – “withered floral requiems toll” even in sunlight and skies of blue, wispy white clouds – it is something I understand on a level without words. Gorgeous.
Jennifer – so much power in this tone poetry/Sunday Drive. There is untapped music in all of our souls, alongside untapped power..
True confession: As a teenager I was mesmerized by the movie Somewhere in Time starring Christopher Reeve (speaking of Superman!). Anyone who’s seen it knows the theme song – which is vital to the story itself. Around the age of 18 I decided to write lyrics for that piece of music. I dust my old composition off today, reworking it just a bit.
I am including the link for listening (if you do, you can tell when the lyrics start after an short intro, at 30 seconds).
With tones of lost love, however it transpires…
For All of My Life
(composed as lyrics to Rachmaninoff’s 18th variation of “Rhapsody on a theme by Paganini”: Link)
Goodbye, tender dream
Leave me to sleep
Good-bye, my dearest one
I release you now
If I had all my life
I’d give it to you
And if I had my dreams
They’d give you to me
If I had a wish
I’d wish you here with me
For all of my life
For all of my life
I’d be with you
Loving you all of my life
You loving me, too
I will always be
Holding you near
In a memory
I see your smile
Can you see in me
Some reflection of your dreams
For all of your life?
For all of my life
Remembering
Because I love you so
I’m letting you go
When darkness falls
I won’t be sleeping
You’ll be out there
Somewhere without me
With part of my heart
With part of my soul
With part of everything
I ever knew.
Where will I be?
Here but for you, my love.
Goodbye, tender dream
Leave me here alone
Finding the rest of my dreams
Gone.
Fran, I think you’ve written a heart wrenching song of truth here – that first love crash, and the sleepless nights we’ve all known. I am in awe of these repeating lines, the message of loving something and letting it go, taking a bite out of you as it does. I think these are the lines that I’m going to keep hearing-
I won’t be sleeping
You’ll be out there
Somewhere without me
With part of my heart
With part of my soul
With part of everything
I ever knew.
I can seriously hear Faith Hill’s voice singing these lyrics at the top of the charts!
How beautiful…your lyrics fit! I remember falling in love with this piece of music years ago. I’m not sure I’ve seen the movie. Such sweeping and emotional phrases in the composition of music really fit…”for all of my life” “where will I be?” “goodbye tender dream”
That was really fun to listen and read your work together.
This is so moving—with or without the music! You’ll be out there somewhere without me…
You have been a writer for all of your life. I’m afraid my poems at age 18 would not be worthy of a revisit. I love these lyrics and would love to hear them sung.
Wow, impressive! I am realizing how there is so much music I don’t know! I just played the music and sang along using your lyrics. It’s good I was in the house alone. I have no idea if I was on the right line, but I think I was pretty close. I love the repetition of “For all of my life.” Your sweet teenage love pours out. I’m so glad you had it and could rework it for now. What a treasure.
Fran, I started reading before the music began, but as soon as the intro ended, I knew and started to read along with the music. What a beautiful way to experience your writing. The yearning and wistfulness is present throughout. This is so heartfelt – I can feel your 18 yo self here and it still resonates after all this time.