I Sing: Writer with Sarah Donovan
Sarah lives in Stillwater, Oklahoma with her partner Dan who likes to ask, “What did you write about today?” She was a teacher of readers and writers in junior high for 15 years before making her way into teacher education at Oklahoma State University. Sarah launched Ethical ELA in 2015 to share stories from her classroom, but it has since taken on new life and many more lives by becoming a space for teacher-friends to share their own classroom stories and poetry.
Some Notes
Congratulations. We’ve done it. We’ve made it to day 30 of Verselove, and I suspect some of you have many more verses yearning for their turn in this amazing space. Well, guess what? We will be back here June 18-22 and then the third Saturday of every month for our five-day Open Write. Think of it as mini Verseloves each month.
Gratitude: Bryan Ripley Crandall, Emily Yamasaki, Gae Polsiner, Jennifer Guyor-Jowett, Denise Krebs, Mo Daley, Chris Goering, Scott McCloskey, Dixie Keyes, Margaret Simon, Kim Johnson, Susie Morice, Stacey Joy, Andy Schoenborn, Anna J. Small Roseboro, Cara Fortey, Gayle Sands, Maureen Young Ingram, Sheri Vasinda, Tammy Breitweiser, Leilya Pitre, Tammi Belko, Stefani Boutelier, Jessica Sherburn, Linda Mitchell, Amy Vetter, Shaun Ingalls, Jessica Wiley, and Glenda Funk–you inspired over 10,000 poems and responses this April (about 3500 more than last year — not that numbers can measure poetry)!
Feedback. But for now, we’d love to hear your feedback on the experience. Will you share your highlights and comments here?
Should we meet? I am thinking about that movie You’ve Got Mail when Tom Hanks asks Meg Ryan (who have developed an online friendship/romance) if they should meet, and Meg Ryan’s character closed her laptop. So should we? How about meeting some of your new poet-friends today from 2:00pm-4:00pm (CT). I am hosting a very informal open mic/meet-up for anyone who’d like to join. Read your favorite poem, honor another poet by expressing gratitude, just listen, just say, “hello”. Join us online here. Email Sarah if you have any questions or trouble Zooming in: sarah.j.donovan@okstate.edu.
PD: If you’d like a certificate of completion or PD credit. Email Sarah for details, sarah.j.donovan@okstate.edu.
Inspiration
I Sing: The Body is an anthology of poetry edited by René Saldaña, Jr. The collection of poems thread struggle and celebration within what we are told and what we believe about ourselves. The poems uncover memory and anger and hope.
As I read the poetry in this collection, I thought a lot about how our bodies hold and shape so much of who we are. In teaching future teachers, we spend a lot of time unlearning and healing from narrow or constraining or absent writing experiences. So many students (and teachers) struggle to claim the words “I am a writer.” I suspect some of you, even after writing and reading so many poems this month, that you, too, may shy away from the naming, the claiming. Writer. Poet.
Let’s hear you all sing…
I Sing: Writer
I Sing: Poet
Process
Mentor texts have helped me to borrow voices when I was searching for my own. I have borrowed from many of you this month when I searched for ways into poeming, so I invite you to work from one of these I Sing excerpts to claim and live and embody your way of being Writer, Poet — how you choose to name or express it.
From Sophie Stephens: “Baby, if you see what I see, you would never doubt again” (“If Only,” p. 42).
From Nikki Grimes: “Some say they dislike your complexion,/but watch the girl on the beach,/slathering her pale epidermis/with expensive suntan lotion,/ apparently subscribing to the notion/that your melanin rich skin/is to be desired, if only for a season” (“Actions Speak,” p. 59).
From Janet Wong: “I’m kind of chubby, but nobody really cares./ It’s baby fat , my mother says, and laughs” (“Baby Fat,” p. 47).
From Katherine Hoerth: “Adolescence is a meadow and you, girl, are snake — / not sunflower, not field mouse, not baby mockingbird./ You emerged from the leathery case of childhood, / the ooze of your former self slick on your skin” ( “Self Portrait at Fourteen as a Diamondback,” p. 43).
As an alternative— if this figurative body topic doesn’t work for you– I invite you to visit past Verseloves and Open Writes to celebrate all the ways poets and poems live. Discover poem forms and topics to keep you and your students writing well beyond April.
Sarah’s Poem
In the spirit of brevity, I will borrow Alison Malee’s voice in “Bravery” for my own. I like the way she uses the poem as a definition and then moves into a simile. Hips are a thing in my family. I inherited hips and started thinking about what shapes in nature are inherited, too. The shapes of leaves. I wonder if I inherited my writing from my father, who shared his writing. Or maybe my mother, who did not. But just because something is inherited does not mean it cannot be shaped. I wonder if my writer identity has only really be nurtured by you all. That is has taken shape because I have been free to move here. I am a writer. I am a poet. And I sway. Thank you.
hip
a truth—
the shape is inherited.
like a green Katsura leaf
to an apricot heart in autumn,
sway across space
to meet what waits.
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. 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.
Thank you, Sarah, for creating and holding this space for us. I needed this month of poetry and community but I didn’t know it.
Cheek bones
A punctuation mark—
inherited and grown into
like a slash
from temple to mandible
cutting, carving, cleaving
space between equals/
space between lines.
This is lovely, Laura. The punctuation mark metaphor makes me think about a face in a new way—the kind of thing good poems do.
Hahahaha! I love reading this as a Polish girl with big round hips for cheeks! Ditto Kevin, I’ve never considered punctuation marks for features, and duh! it makes a lot of sense! It reminds me a bit of Lynda Barry and her art practice (Making Comics – phenomenal book!) where she has us use punctuation marks for facial features. It’s really hilarious fun. I like the “inherited and grown into” as the nod to your lineage. And kudos to your sentiment, “I needed this month of poetry and community but I didn’t know it.” I think that should be our slogan! Ditto! Thank you!
Good morning Laura,
I often marvel at the topics our poets here select and then the metaphors captivate me completely. I love what you chose and how you painted the picture so clearly in so few lines. Poignant!
It’s been a fun month and I agree I didn’t know how much I needed it either. I sit here, May 1st, wishing for another prompt. ?
Laura,
Very cool, descriptive, imaginative piece! Love that alliteration in the last stanza. 🙂
Sarah, as I’ve said a million times since 2019, THANK YOU! I only hope you have felt as loved and nurtured as you should. This month with Verselove fed my heart and soul.
I have to say this, you’re lucky to have hips! I didn’t inherit my mom’s butt or hips, my sister got them all and it wasn’t until I was about 40 that I realized I didn’t have hips. LOL!
Sing: I Write!
I am sunshine and snow cones
Loud laughs and low moans
I am caramel and freckled skin
Lover of red wine instead of gin
I am colored pens and poetic flow
Writing to heal, writing to grow
© Stacey L. Joy, 4/30/22
This reads like an anthem, Stacey! So many of these I can relate to (sorry, I’m gin over red wine!). I appreciate seeing this form because I would love to try this for myself as well as my students. It is simple but says so much. The colored pens line makes me want to go hit my artbook! Thank you for a wonderful month – this was my first, and it feels utterly triumphant. I’ll be back. : )
Stacey, Loved this joyful poem! The imagery made me smile, and its uplifting tone was a perfect way to end our month. It’s been a pleasure to read your poetry this month!
The prompt of thinking about the body immediately brings to mind 2 poets for me–one is Yusef Komunyakaa (here’s his poem “Anodyne”– https://poetrysociety.org/features/ars-poetica/yusef-komunyakaa) and my good friend, Lauren Alleyne (here are two poems from her about the body– http://caribbeanreviewofbooks.com/crb-archive/24-november-2010/two-poems/).
I’m going to keep it short today, but I do want to say thank you to all the poets who shared out prompts and poems and all of the participants who shared in this community. I had a really amazing time writing with everyone this month. Thank you!!!
In the mirror
At times you are unrecognizable
I know you belong to me
and i am responsible for your dimensions,
for better or worse.
We’ve been exercising and
cutting down on frivolities,
haven’t we?
After all, we have folks that we are responsible for
and we need to be around for a while–
mobile and agile and alive.
A work in progress
Never good enough
but better than yesterday.
Each day a new beginning
you are a sometimes uncomfortable truth
reminding me of my what is and
what work remains to be done.
A Sisyphean task
that I gladly
grudgingly
embrace.
Dave, thank you for writing this (and for your other poems this month)! I’ve enjoyed your poems and comments (on mine and others). I can relate to this more than I care to admit, though. Lol. “[Y]ou are a sometimes uncomfortable truth / reminding me of my what is and / what work remains to be done.”
Well, that about sums it up now, doesn’t it? “and i am responsible for your dimensions,” is such a truth that has indeed been a Sisyphean task – ! I love thinking of it in those mythological terms. Who knew I was a hero in this realm? That every bike ride and yoga session is a triumph of rolling the rock up the hill, and then my beer that night – zoop! – right back down the hill. : ) This line couldn’t be more true, “After all, we have folks that we are responsible for” – as a dear colleague of ours passed away recently due to a heart attack at age 45 – and he lived a rough and rowdy life. To see the sorrow left in his absence – he would never have wanted to cause people that kind of hurt while he was alive, but that’s what he leaving did to us. A tiny part of me is so mad at him for not taking better care of himself, but that’s how we see ourselves – as just our own selves to do what we want with. But if you have people in your life you love and who love you – and we all do – then it’s not just all about you, is it? It IS about them, too. Thank you so much for recognizing that, Dave. I’ll still have my beer, but in our house, we say, No workout, no beer. Seems fair.
Kevin, this was great! I especially loved (and related to!) the sentiments:
“A work in progress
Never good enough
but better than yesterday.”
…though the whole poem rang true: the struggle is real as we get older.
Thanks for sharing your excellent poems this month!
It’s late for me. I almost forgot to check-in today. Sorry! Here’s a quickie. It’s been a terrific month and this poem gives some of the reasons why we hate to say goodbye to VERSELOVE 2022!
To elevate the soul
Poetry is necessary
So says Edgar Allen Poe
Yep, poems make me want to go!
The poems of others about their mothers
Put me in the mood
To gives thanks for times gone by
Sharing good times over hot spicy food
Our poems show the magic that occurs
When we set teens to writing, manipulating words
When I am down, poems lift me up
Sorta like sipping from a cup
Of rich ginger lemony tea
Reading poems, writing poems, hearing them read
Reading and writing, my soul stays well fed.
The lyrics of hymns do it for me
Like looking in the mirror
They help me to see more that I can be
Poems welcome us into the fold
Like Poe says, they elevate our soul.
Anna, perfect words from YOU and Poe.
I’ve appreciated your poems and this space so much this past month. I hate to wait until June, but until then, take care, my friend!
?
What a way to end with a celebration! I’ve such enjoyed this month and feel so accomplished. I have both enjoyed reading others’ work and sharing feedback and also reading the feedback from others.
I have always been told I have a great smile, so here is my poem of my smile but also throwing in how I’ve always felt the need to be perfect. Note-I don’t have plump lips but it worked here ? also, I am addicted to Instagram reels and the recent trend is a sound of a girl saying “perfect. Perfect. Perfect”
Smile
plump lips popping perfectly with ink
pearly white, pristine and straight teeth
perfect. Perfect. Perfect.
I only ‘Instagram’ in the off-season from school, so I will have to catch up on this new trend, Alexis! What a strange kind of thing it is, now that I contemplate on it, to compliment someone on their smile. That says a lot about social/cultural norms and expectations. And, likewise, I’m referred to as “the one who’s always smiling” (by those on my right side, that is!). And what is “perfection” in different areas, such as a smile? One of my students said she liked wearing a mask because she has really messed up teeth, and she said for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel embarrassed to smile. Isn’t that something? This little poem just made me think of SO MUCH. How is that? Well, that’s a good poem, then, ennit? Thank you!
Alexis, you chose precise words for alliteration and I see the images clearly in just 3 lines. Beautiful! I will have to pay more attention to the trending sound on IG Reels. That’s funny.
Cute!!
Sarah–thanks so much for a lovely month of poetry writing. I have loved this community of writers and their generosity and the stretch and pull of the 30 days of writing invitations. Today’s prompt took me back to my childhood and my dad’s delight (and seriousness) about words. We had many lively debates about language at the dinner table! I decided to explore the identity “writer” in my piece.
I Sing: Writer
As a child I played with words
tossing them
bouncing them against each other
sharing them
experimenting without fear
I learned later
words could be weapons
sharpened to aim
or twisted back
piercing the heart
silencing the tongue
Today I wield my words
with care
gently guiding them
squeezing them together
splaying them wide
freeing them to find their own rhythm
testing both friction and
space
redefining myself
as I write
@kd0602
Kim, this feels like the perfect ode for what we get to do here in April and every third week of the month. I love the way you portray your relationship with words growing from toys to weapons to something you thoughtfully control. “Splaying then wide” really sticks with me.
Kim, similar to Laura, in your poem I felt the evolution from the carefree child who simply delighted in words to the growing awareness of how they can be used for good or for ill. I suspect “gently guiding them” applies equally to how you interact with your learners.
Kim, thanks for the reminder of the power of words, so very much a teaching that few of us learned until we’d been their victim!
Okay, I apologize if I stepped out of bounds here. But as I read the prompt, I thought about parts of my body I have doubted, hesitated to embrace. I thought back to adolescence when I was pretty sure there was something wrong with the way I was developing “down there.” So this was the poem I needed to write.
vulva
an affirmation–
thank you.
like the heart
of the artichoke,
the best part
of me.
Oh my, you have me laughing here, Allison! I love “like the heart of the artichoke” What a unique and interesting simile. An unexpected, but wonderful response to today’s prompt. Still smiling:)
Allison — Well, girlie, that put it right out there! And I bet it felt good to think about that “artichoke”! Just made me giggle and love you heaps. You are “the best.” Hugs, Susie
Allison, your poem is a perfect beat. The simile is amazing, so unexpected, so welcome. I love thinking about your poem as ironic and literal. I, too, am smiling. I adore you. Today in the Zoom I mentioned how I love that all topics are welcome in this space, so you are well w/in bounds. Those who don’t think so can scroll and clutch their pearls.
Just love this, Allison! I love the rhythm of this and the perfection of that simile.
Ooh yes, Allison. I don’t want to speak for everyone but I also feel like this is the poem we all need. The simile is 10/10 but those first two lines keep me mulling it all over. *snaps*
Allison,
Gotta always love the vulva! It gets very little acknowledgement!
Brilliant!
STEP INTO MI LABORATORIO DE NOODLES: MI CEREBRO
Enough with la derecha, la esquierda,
I need mi whole brain,
left, right, front, back,
and all the noodles in between.
Mi amygdala…
as Scott celebrated ayer…
well, mine’s on steroids
with its fear
of drop-offs,
fear of heights –
it’s the falling to your death
screaming,
crapping your pantelones
all the way down, that part;
and the memory and emotion part…
well, that gets tricky…
I love mi memories loco,
most of ‘em,
pero
I get weepy a anuncios sobre perros;
wondering if that noodle
could be tweaked a bit.
La Condesa Cerebrum –
eso big ol’ she-bowl de spaghetti
up there has allowed me
to play goalie,
play tenis,
bike a zillion millas,
dance like I’m still dieciséis
in la cocina
doing The STL Imperial
with mi broom.
El Padre Pineal,
he just screwed me up
something fierce…
awake when you sleep
asleep when el mundo es awake
used to bug me, but
el tiempo es una espada de dos filos
(time is a two-edged sword).
Fernanda Frontal and Princesa Parietal –
maybe those are hermosas in crime,
giving me good decisions some days,
keeping me in line
and on track,
but I sense
they’ve been arguing.
Sobre todo,
estoy feliz
de estar vivo
y
escribir poesía
contigo.
by Susie Morice, treinta de abril, 2022©
[The STL Imperial: https://youtu.be/rFgQqcOg_Qo%5D
[I love learning español and apologize for the Spanglish of it all. :-)]
Susie, I love how you sense that your two sides of your brain have been arguing. Plus, “it’s the falling to your death
screaming,
crapping your pantelones “….I can relate, but love how these lines create humor. I definitely need to learn Spanish, seriously. I have so many international students and I know this would help me communicate better. Thanks for sharing your love of language and español in this poem. Fantastic!
Susie, I am happy, too! Thank you for this! (My brain seems to fight itself, too, at times!) I enjoyed piecing it together (and only needed to use Google Translate for a word here and there in addition to the last stanza). And thank you for the video. I enjoyed imagining you dancing at sixteen with your broom in the kitchen! (And thank you so much for all of your kind and insightful comments this month! You make me want to keep writing!)
Oh, friend, you’re pushing me! I am teaching “Romeo & Juliet” to freshmen right now, and I keep urging them to “waterski across the surface” (Billy Collins). Your poem required me to do the same! I could “read” about 1/3 of your Spanish words, Google-translated a few more–and I loved every minute of it! I love your brain, and your continued use of BOTH SIDES. <3
Thank you so much, Sarah, for this space. I echo what many folks have already said here about finding my writer’s voice, challenging myself, and learning so much about community throughout. So here’s a short ode to Verselove:
Verselove
Verses of love
Verses of laughter, sorrow,
Community building at its finest,
authentic self.
I, we, all are part of this adventure,
Of discovery, vulnerability, and
Celebrating our words no matter or
Brief, nuanced, or long.
Contemplating meanings, stories, and poetic forms
In all shapes for days afterwards and likely years to come
Thank you all,
much Love
In
Verse 🙂
Jinan, I adore how you show the power of this community in your poem. Your opening and ending tie the whole concept of verse and our shared writing perfectly. Love discovery, celebrating, and contemplating words that reflect our writing efforts.. All perfect descriptors of our shared voices here. Outstanding poem! Thank you!
Community building at its finest–you capture this space so well in your ode.
“Contemplating meanings, stories, and poetic forms / In all shapes for days afterwards and likely years to come” – you hit it right here, Jinan. It feels like a whirlwind now that the month is over, and I will definitely be taking some time to go back through these exercises and great mentor poems from everyone here to draw from for inspiration for – gosh! – who knows how long! This is indeed a wonderful community, and I’m so glad we could be a part of it together. Thank you! Hope to see you in future months for the Open Writes!
Jinan, you can be our lead cheerleader! Yes, with poems,
Brief, nuanced, or long,
Contemplating meanings, stories, and poetic forms
We gather here monthly to share and learn to care about the power of poems.
Thank you, Sarah, for spearheading this project that has grown and grown! I didn’t think I would make it all the way through this month of poetry, but this community is so supportive and wonderful. I loved challenging myself to simply write each day. Thank you for this prompt, too. I went back to the 4×4 poem from April 5th, and I wrote about 4 of the identities I struggle to embrace.
I’m not perfect–
last place in race;
turtle’s pace, yet
runner, I am.
Flour on face
I’m not perfect
overcooked, yet
baker, I am.
Under-watered
veggies again
I’m not perfect:
gardn’r, I am.
Wonky syllable count
stretched similes
missed refrains, yet
poet, I am.
Rachelle,
I really like that you revisited this form–it was a really good one. It works well for your theme–and for each of the four, persistence will prevail! I particularly like the last stanza with its “Wonky syllable count / stretched similes / missed refrains.” The story of our month!
Rachelle — Wonderful! I love the images…the “flour…face” and the “Wonky syllable count/stretched similes/missed refrains” … a poet indeed…and a doggone good one at that! I loved your poems all month and this one is no exception. Write on, write one, write on! Susie
I love that you claim each of these identities–without a need for perfection–in this piece. Yes–poet you are!
Wow, how did this idea come about? It’s magical! I love this because I struggle with this too:
?
Thank you, Sarah, for this prompt and for providing this space in which I grew as a writer and found so many inspiring voices. It has been an amazing month. I’m honored to be in the company of such talented poets and teachers. You are all an inspiration.
I’ve had a love affair with words since I was 12. I always said I was a writer – but never out loud. I used to post on Instagram under a pseudonym until a couple of years ago. A friend convinced me to own my words, to be proud of the talent I have. I’m glad I listened to her. I was, am, and will always be a writer.
Sword & Shield
Words are my sword and shield.
They soothe me
– like lavender bubble bath
– like camomile tea
They comfort me
– like fresh-made pasta
– like freshly laundered sheets
They calm me
– like a tight hug
– like staring at the sea
They invigorate me
– like intellectual conversation
– like taking down the patriarchy
They heal me
– like my Mom’s voice
– like warm soup and cheese
To protect and to wield,
To digress and to spiel,
To comfort and to appeal,
To maim and to heal,
Words are my sword and shield.
There is something so powerful in the capital T then W of these phrases in the final stanza. It is the claiming of all the ways of words that we have shared here. So glad to have witnessed your poetry alongside your name.
Saba, I like the parallel structure throughout–it really emphasizes the ways in which words are apart of you. The last stanza reminds me of wedding vows like “to have and to hold” and I like that words are always there for us: “to protect and to wield”
Oh wow, Saba. I love this form. I am SO going to mentor this into and exercise with my students. I can see how personal it is, but there are so many illustrations here that I can identify with, and some that have me curious to want to know more about the speaker. I’m glad you have come out from behind your pseudonym. It can be a safe way to explore different voices, as some writers adopt different pen names for themselves to allow them the freedom to break away from their own “norm.” But, I agree and am glad for your friend who encouraged you. Especially for us women and for any marginalized and minoritized voices. We need to own these and take our space for them. My admiration and gratitude to you. What a great month!
Hi all–I wanted to write a little poem of thanks. I so enjoyed being with you, learning from you and being inspired by you this month. Thanks to those who offered prompts and inspirations each day.
beside you, words
we gather
at this wall only
in ancient ways:
raising hands to the stone,
breathing spirit,
listening, listening,
awaiting vibrations,
dreaming, praying, yearning,
rolling notes up in the
cracks.
Kevin,
So appreciate your contributions and nourishment of this space for all. Your pronoun “we” captures the collective endeavor of vibrations.
Kevin, the imagery connecting our writing to “ancient ways” highlights how very human it is to connect over creating, sharing, and listening. Thank you for this reminder and for your poems this month!
Kevin,
This is such a thoughtful meditation on the power of sharing, communicating and connection. The emphasis on listening is perfect.
Thank you Sarah for THIS: #verselove, EthicalELA, your love of poetry, your passion to write, your purpose for all to experience, whether in a classroom (students and educators), your “you”ness (whatever you are made of…sugar, spice, palm trees). I will say this was a challenge to me. I don’t write as often, so to write for 30 days was tough! Between work, activities, and lack of inspiration/sleep, I DID IT! I hope to share what I have learned from everyone: vocabulary, types of poetry, blogs, and websites with my students and educational friends so we can all get a taste of the oooey gooey goodness of literacy.
These lines speak life:
“sway across space
to meet what waits.” A poetry dance!
I’m reminded that no matter how much we speak, what we think, or how much we want to do something, we can’t change anything unless we move. And, hips are usually the most “vocal” when dancing. They take over and show off. They demand attention. Shakira said it best, “Hips don’t lie”! Dance on Sarah!
I wrote a modern Japanese tanka, inspired by Day 16 with Cara Fortey.
I am writing about my eyes because I can write about them without cringing….Our bodies are a combination of DNA, chromosomes, science…and just like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get. Or, in this case, whose genes will you inherit.
Eyes
My windows to the soul tell stories
freely given or taken the truths
Or lies that blind others to see me for who I am.
Jessica, I adore how you show the duality of eyes, both open and shielding. Truthful and deceitful. “windows to the soul” is such a perfect descriptor!
Thank you Barb, for your insight and your poetry! That phrase about the eyes is my favorite to use.
This is wonderful. You can say is a short verse so much about what our eyes to the soul take in and how others often turn a blind eye. Glad you are who you are.
Yes Susan, I agree. Thank you so much! I’m glad I’m me as well, flaws and all!
Jessica, this tanka is wonderful – eyes ‘windows to the soul’ and receiving both truth and lies of others…love that you define lies as ‘blinding’ …this is so true!! I have really enjoyed your poetry this month. Thank you!
Thank you Maureen for your thoughts and sharing with us your poetry as well. I believe this day was my shortest in process and product. Yes, blinding lies….I think I can write another poem about this. Thank you for pointing that out!
I was strong the first half, fell off the verselove wagon, and felt immense shame and overwhelm about getting off track because of one busy day that snowballed.
This community is amazing, and I’ve loved reading your brilliance. I’ve saved prompts and my rough drafts that I can’t wait to continue playing with. For now, my short goodbye celebrates my hands..
Mis Manos
riddled with shame, guilt
but mis manos lurch forward
words must reach paper
Britt, powerful end “words must reach paper”. Don’t be too hard on yourself!
Don’t feel guilty. Sus Manos will always find a way to work with the paper.
No need for shame or guilt with writing, I think! “words must reach paper” is powerful – and they will, trust that they will, in time. I have loved your poetry this month!
Brit, your presence here this month has been a light. I love the video switching. Keep reaching ad writing, and kiss the babies. ?
Brit, good for you! Even in the disappointment with yourself (we aren’t disappointed in you) you will keep lurching, reaching forward to write. Even in the midst of your busy life as a partner, mother and teacher. Beautiful! See you in June.
thanks for the hands inspiration, Britt. “Lurch” feels just perfect here.
Britt — ¡Tus manos lo hicieron bien! Put that guilt in a box and throw it away. You are a poet! Susie
And through it all, YOU’RE HERE!!!
Love this!
A gorgeous dandelion
sprouting thistles,
Set free with poetic whistles.
swaying to and from faithful hearts,
Shared — as they drift apart.
Just the chance to experience their dance,
Moments of serenity captured at a glance.
From the last to the first,
Graceful all of them during
love verse.
– Boxer
Boxer, that dandelion is as free as it can be with its “poetic whistles”. I always enjoyed blowing the seeds away. Imagine if we could be as free as dandelions, “swaying to and from faithful hearts.” Wow, this is all so good! Thank you for sharing your days with us.
Boxer, “Set free with poetic whistles”. Yes, I can hear this song! Perfect end, too!
Boxer,
Wow, your first stanza is just so rich! The rhythm and rhyme in that one just propelled me forward in your poem–like a dandelion seed in the wind!
Boxer, again you are wizard with words – flipping VerseLove to love verse there at the end, the first to the last of the month, the thistles sprouting and dancing for a time before scattering in the wind. And as it is with dandelion seeds, they take root and spread the love of words. I’m already counting the days until the May Open Write…….what’s your May theme of writing? Mine is Moments.
Thank you to everyone who was here this month – ! I can’t believe I did it, but the energy of this group is incredible! Thank you so much, Sarah, for managing all of this. I loved your video and appreciate the stats. I’m jealous of your greening, and we are just on the cusp of a very late-arriving spring here in Michigan. It gave me great joy to see what we have coming our way! And, this prompt, as foralways has taken me in a direction I was not expecting. Enjoy!
Aging Embrace
As my later-aged sedentary self settles
into this old bag of fat, flesh, & bones
I complain to my husband,
“I look like a potato.”
He doesn’t miss a beat,
“A sweet potato!”
“Exactly!” I cry out.
“A big round middle and pointy at both ends!”
We laugh in our comfortable skin
knowing one another so well
the sorrow & the joy in every
line & curve & crevice
we see the inevitable
breaking down & brittling
joke about who will be
the last one standing
“Better you than me,” my husband says.
And it’s true – he’ll be a mess alone
but it doesn’t mean
I won’t ache to miss him
so I tangle my legs with his
entwine our arms around
the flabby & the flaccid
inhale & hold my breath
hope these memories
are the last to let go
Denise,
There is so much to love (and relate to!) here.
And that ending hug, beautiful.
P.S. Denise, thank you also for your presence here. It was always nice that you followed up in the mornings and made sure the late night poets received some commenting love!
Thanks, Denise. I am waaay more of a morning person, so I appreciate the opportunity to come back the next day fresh and start my day off right with some beautiful poetry! Something for everyone here, that’s for sure!
Denise,
I love, love this poem. These lines…
We laugh in our comfortable skin
knowing one another so well
the sorrow & the joy in every
line & curve & crevice
Perfection that you wrote in couplets and share the this intimacy of “knowing”.
Sarah
Dang! Girl, this is so bloomin’ romantic. I LOVE LOVE LOVE it. When I wasn’t wishing that I had such a loving partner, I was laughing at this:
Just wonderful. A great anniversary poem! XXOOLove in a poem! Susie
Wow, this one really hit me. Literally brought to tears. My wife and I met just before I turned 40 and I cherish each moment that we get to spend together. I look forward to the days ahead and you so perfectly capture the grace of aging with a partner and just how precious the time that we have to share with our loved ones is. Thank you for this poem!
Thanks, Dave. Likewise, I was on the cusp of 40 when I first married, and my husband is a decade my senior. I joke that we won’t have to worry about throwing a golden anniversary party, but it’s a somber truth that makes me appreciate every single anniversary all the more. Cheers to you!
Oh, Sarah! This has been such a tremendous opportunity this month! I’m proud of myself…I actually wrote a poem every single day this month. They didn’t always end up here, but I wrote them, nonetheless! What a powerful process!
I toyed around today…I wanted what I wrote to kind of reflect this journey I have been on this month with you all. I started looking back through my journal (a very pretty blank book that I hadn’t ever written in because it was “too pretty”…now it’s full of my chicken scratches and hard-worn words. I’m much more proud of it now!) and thinking about my small “body” of work represented in this book, and I decided to go this route with the “body” idea.
From Cover to Cover
A cornucopia of wonder;
a diary of small moments that loom
large;
a prism on the page, its rainbow
beams shining out from this
place;
a reminder, on some pages a gentle
nudge,
on others, a clarion call, of
who and what I am
and who and what
I’m called to be;
a microscope–looking in extreme
close-up
a telescope–looking out into
the distance;
a warm blanket, inviting me to
snuggle in;
a bestiary, capturing the menagerie
of beasts within, from scary to
sweet–some
shifting from one to the other
on the same page;
a wise counselor, reminding me of the
flagrant truths I have known since time
began,
but lost somewhere along the way;
a map for my adventuring soul;
a Magic 8 Ball, giving me a different
perspective each time I consult it;
A time-travel machine giving me the chance
to return
to moments both good and bad to examine
them more closely,
take what I can from them,
and blow the rest away.
This space is me–my favorite self.
Julie,
One of the things I like is how you described your journal in the intro: “chicken scratches and hard-worn words.” So glad to see you here this month, and congratulations on doing a full 30 day, here and in your beautiful journal.
I love the list of metaphors, especially “bestiary”
The final line is a perfect summing up:
Julie,
Each metaphor is apt and illuminating of a journey with rich turns and discoveries. I love how your poem compelled my eyes to move across and down like I was inside your notebook observing and noting along the pages. What a gift you have offered us all in sharing “This space is me– my favorite self.” I so appreciate that I was able to meet you in this way.
Peace,
Sarah
I really like your title here, Julie, and the metaphoric categories of different ways of being with yourself and with words.
Hi Dr. Donovan thank you for this space and the opportunity to participate in a beautiful writing journey. It was a sacrifice with my busy schedule so today I celebrate….
I sing
today because I completed the challenge
I was inspired
I reflected
I saw myself through a different lens
Writing is powerful
educators and students need to recognize the power
Use writing for advocacy
Use writing for transformation
Use writing for joy
Whether it be narrative
Informational
Found poem
Rhyming poem
Pledge to just write
Dee,
Sarah is always fine as we are colleagues and poets together – side-by-side in this space. Thank you so much for trusting you’d nurtured here and for helping create a safe space for others, too. This reciprocity is what keeps us going!
Peace,
Sarah
Dee, I hope you frame this. This is wonderful and so true and thought-provoking. Congratulations on this challenge. I think this was my first time to do #verselove and I felt I grew as an individual. I’ve been taking notes throughout the month and will be going back to EthicalELA to get some more tips and hear some thoughts from great educators. This line, “I saw myself through a different lens” resonated with me because I feel it takes a challenge, someone else, to see ourselves from a different view. We always see ourselves, but once we tackle something amazing, we look much different than before. Thank you for this reminder to just write!!
Dee, what a great response and reason to celebrate. Love your last line “Pledge to just write”. Perfect poem for the last day of Verse Love.
Thank you, thank you, Sarah! For this month and digging and writing. I will see you soon!
I love the hip swaying and the beautiful image of the green leaf becoming an apricot heart in the fall. Your sweet economy of words says so much.
Pencil and paper
Dig out the broken rubble
Sing: I am Poet
I empty to become full
Poems pour onto paper
Denise, I’m so glad I had a chance to see you and hear you today. The image of a pencil as excavator is delicious and apropos to all the work you’ve done on your home this month. It makes me think of “Digging” by Seamus Heaney.
Denise,
So lovely to see your face and get an update on your life. Your responses to the poets this month have been so nourishing — as always — but I deeply appreciate how you have contributed to the safety-support of Verselove. This “dig out the broken rubble” resonates with me. I have struggles some days to sink into the poem-flow, which makes me feel whole. I think distractions got the better of me most days, but in the final weeks, I felt my poem world opening up its portal to me again. That “empty to become full” may have been why.
Gosh, thank you!
Peace,
Sarah
Oh what a powerful phrasing, Denise – “I empty to become full” – this should be a bumper sticker! Love love love this. I have loved connecting with you/reading your poetry this month!!
Denise,
I love how much meaning you’ve packed into just five lines. “I empty to become full” really reverberates with me. Thank you!
Denise, “I empty to become full” Wow, what a perfect line to show the power of writing poetry. “Dig out the broken rubble”…yes, what a perfect descriptor. Powerful poem to show the “digging and writing” you preface. Thank you!
Denise, I loved hearing you read this today in the Zoom. The audio piece is making me want to add a voice reading to my blog, but I don’t think I read as beautifully as others do – the passion is heard in the voice, and it was sheer delight to hear you. I’m so glad you are back in the states and visiting friends and fixing up a house.
If your schedule allows, we’d love for you to stop by our Open Mic/Open House at 2:00 PM (CT). That is just 30 minutes from now. https://educationokstate.zoom.us/s/6028777200
Share a poem you wrote during Verselove. Share a favorite prompt. Share any aha’s about writing poetry. Just say hello!
Thank you, Sarah. Thanks to all who hosted us this month. I’m so glad I was able to share this time and space with you all. I feel you’ve taken me to places I haven’t been to before. Last week was on vacation and didn’t get to write as much. We were visiting an old friend who inspired me to write this poem.
A Poem for Tomorrow
By Nancy White
Kindness lives in spontaneous generosity of old souls and kindred spirits.
Yesterday an old friend of nearly fifty years
gave me a big chunk of red jasper
he dug from the earth.
It was naturally weathered with a glossy patina.
Holding it gave me strength and peace,
its heft, a centering and calming force.
There is lasting goodness that
comes from within, radiating harmony into eternity,
where raw stones and old friendships
will remain intact, always shining.
Nancy,
I have so enjoyed the “generosity” of the poets this month, and love that you began your poem today with “old souls and kindred spirits.”
And then thinking of the speaker here receiving “a big chunk of red jasper” that was “dug from the earth” is so compelling in the literal and figurative senses. And then the “glossy patina” and later friendships that “will remain intact, always shining.” Such a lovely closing image on this last day of Verselove.
Hi Nancy, for this last day of #verselove, you have shared an epiphany. So many times we discard, forget, put away, etc… memories, old friends, forgotten tasks, and when they come back, or when we come back, it feels like we just pick up where we left off. So much has changed and yet the relationship still stands. This is my favorite line: “Kindness lives in spontaneous generosity of old souls and kindred spirits.” I love old souls; they are full of wisdom. Thank you for sharing!
Nancy, what a gorgeous poem and wonderful gift. I love how the stone and friendship “remain intact, always shining” and how this gift blesses you with “strength and peace”. Beautiful poem!
Thank you so much for a wonderful month of intriguing, challenging, and wonderful prompts that kept me writing and reading all month. I am very grateful for this community. <3
What is it that makes us us?
Is it the look in our eyes,
the shape of our face,
the way we carry ourselves,
the voice that we speak,
the clothes that we choose,
the choices that we make,
the people who surround us,
the job that we do,
the place where we live?
No, it is the quiet or wild child
within us watching the world
and tentatively or boldly making
moves to belong or defy
expectations and stereotypes.
Some are audacious and can
speak their truth without a
moment’s hesitation–
while others second guess
each word, each move
they take around others.
No matter the shape, stride,
voice, vesture, vocation,
preferences, people, or position,
each of us is a part of a whole
universe of uniqueness.
Be the beauty that is you!
Cara,
I am holding on, holding on tight to these words:
and tentatively or boldly making
moves to belong or defy
Only in the being “you” can we truly belong or defy, and I am so grateful for this space where every poem and poet belongs.
Peace,
Sarah
There are many lines I love here. Your second stanza shows how we have different styles of moving to belong. I love being reminded that each of us is a part of the whole. Your ending line is full of encouragement to BE.
Cara, I really like the structure of this poem: the question you pose in the first stanza, how you add to the question in stanza two, and mostly how you truly answer the question in stanza three: “No, it is the quiet or wild child / within us watching the world” thank you for the invitation to honor the wild child within myself. I would be remiss not to mention the awesome alliteration which I especially noticed in the last stanza 🙂
Thank you, Sarah! Thank you to everyone who prompted us to write this month. I am going old school here with a nod to William Carlos Williams.
This is just to say
I have treasured
Moments
Spent writing
Poems here
Learning
About all of you
Through the
Words you penned
Thank you for
Sharing from your heart
And soul
‘Til next time
Perfect!! Excellent thoughts for an ending to a joyful time!
Katrina,
Timeless — not old school! I am so grateful that I got to meet you this month and then continue to see and meet you with new dimensions in your poetry. This is such an ode to the poems and poets that I adore: “Sharing form your heart/And soul/”Til next time.” Because there is always another poem.
Peace,
Sarah
Katrina, so lovely! Yes, it has been such a delight learning about others through their poems. Thank you for sharing this. See you in June!
–so sweet and so warm.
Katrina, I love this! And I concur; I have some “treasured / Moments,” too!
I Sing the Electric Toaster Oven
after Walt Whitman’s “I Sing the Body Electric”
(but also not really)
1
It has engirthed me
And I it
O! Ah! I have pushed its many buttons, turned its many knobs
Of the knobs it has but three, perhaps I should have said several knobs
Or maybe even a few knobs, Yes! Of its knobs I have tweaked three
And have you not done the same? Have you not turned your own knobs
Up! And Down!
Or Wait! That would be a lever or a toggle – Ah! Have you toggled yourself
Up and down, you know you have, and there is no shame (No Shame!) in this toggling
Sing Toggle! Sing Toggle!
And what of the buttons, for there are buttons – we all have buttons – for what of these buttons
Have we not pushed, have we not pulled these buttons – but you don’t actually pull buttons, do you?
(O! I have! I have pulled buttons on myself and others)
2
Let us talk of size of height and foot of width and foot
And let us remember (Remember!) that all sizes are good that all sizes are perfect
There is none that is better than another
This has spacious 0.6-cubic-foot of oven space
And what is this space? A space! What of that?
For it can cook pizza and bagels (Six Bagel Halves!) and can roast a whole chicken
3
When we talk of parts,
We talk of parts,
We talk of many many parts
There are no parts better than the rack (O! We love our racks!)
The are no parts better than the rack and drip tray,
Each and every one of us has a drip tray (Drip Tray!)
to collect our crumbs
The crumbs of life are many
It is nonstick, it wipes away clean
4
It is an art of cuisine, this CuisinartⓇ
Your stainless steel finish is my stainless steel finish
Your gloss is my gloss
Your reflection my reflection
My Reflection!
5
You can be shipped everywhere
Except for Alaska
And Hawaii
But they probably have a Kohl’s there (Probably!) and for $129.99 they too can have this cooking experience
(for what is a cooking experience if not a life and if not a life than a soul)
Appliances are souls!
So cook, and cook, and live!
O me! O life! O CuisinartⓇ Convection Toaster Oven Broiler!
__________________________________________
Ok, ok, ok, so I didn’t quite follow the prompt, Sarah. I started to. Really. Your prompt made me think of Whitman, which made me think of “I Sing the Body Electric” and that led me to his second line which used the word “engirth” and I thought, oh boy, what is going on here? I quickly searched for the word “flaccid” and found no hits so I happily proceeded and that led me to the realization (the re-realization) that I think I only like Whitman in small chunks, in snip-its, at least when I read him by myself (because I have been brought to tears – honest to goodness tears – when I heard my father recite one of Whitman’s poems about a battlefield surgeon), so then I started thinking about Whitman’s long, convoluted lines, and his excessive use of exclamation points (O Exclamation!) and I must have been drinking my coffee, standing in the kitchen, staring at the toaster oven when this all “came together.” So, long story long (I guess :)) I blame you for this. Lol.
And if we’re being honest, I blame all of you, too – those poets out there in Ethical ELA land, you know who you are! – for reading these offerings of mine and for posting your own this month. You have made me come back again and again to learn and grow as a writer and teacher and poet. Thank you! (Ugh, there goes Whitman’s influence again with his exclamation points.) !
Scott,
So enjoy and appreciate the threads pulled through and across this poem, this space, these poets. I love hearing your process and the way ideas took shape in this five part poem. Knobs and buttons and racks and trays and gloss and reflection and appliances. This is the stuff of life– and the body’s electric!
So enjoyed being with you this month,
Sarah
Walt would be proud of how you’ve captured not only his rhythm but his spirit and most important truth — all sizes are good and all sizes are perfect! So live!
Holy mackerel — ¡¡¡O,the knobs, the toggling, the drip tray… geez…this is a total stitch…and all in the Whitman-istics!!!! Not only do I want you to keep writing this poetry, I want you to forever be the teacher who guides students to find the fun in poetry, find the brilliance behind the ironies and the puns and the allusions… geez..RICH RICH RICH stuff! What a killa teacher you must be, not to mention poet! I will never again look at a toaster oven that same way!!!! [Note: !!!! 😉 ] “See you in June!” Susie
LOL 🙂 Thank you, Susie. See you in June!
Sarah and everyone else, what a wonderful month this has been! This is the first time I’ve been able to write a poem each day, and I’m so happy I pushed myself. Thank you all for the wonderful poems, comments, and camaraderie. I don’t think I’ll be able to make the Zoom today. Have fun
I Sing
By Mo Daley 4-30-22
When I turned thirty,
a “friend” welcomed me to middle age
and I was mortified,
but of course, there was no Google
for me to look up the definition of the offensive term
When I looked it up this morning,
wondering (hoping) that I was still a member of that club,
I found I’m years away from being considered
old
and I laughed wickedly
I thought of my teenaged hopes, dreams, and prayers
for those curves to come in
as I think about the ones that
came crashing in to form my middle-aged body
I though how I knew it all
and have only recently realized how little I know
I thought of my youthful trepidation of relationships
and how this old gal can love with abandon
and I’m so happy to sing of who I am
today
Mo, what a joyful celebration of you! Loved this:
“I found I’m years away from being considered
old
and I laughed wickedly”
(I could almost hear it!)
and:
“I thought of my teenaged hopes, dreams, and prayers
for those curves to come in
as I think about the ones that
came crashing in to form my middle-aged body”
(loved your use of “crashing” here — truth!)
Loved this! It’s been a pleasure writing with you this month and reading your terrific poetry!
Mo, gorgeous celebration of yourself and ability to “love with abandon”. 30…middle aged? I don’t agree! Here is to curves and all the knowledge to come! Wonderful poem!
Hi Mo, reminiscing about youth and embracing middle age. At first I use to fear getting old but its a blessing to live to become old, many youths don’t get the honor. Thanks for sharing.
Mo,
So lovely to see you at the Sox game today. How I miss my sweet home Chicago, but you brought joy to hear the cheers and see your face. Congratulations on all 30 days. I am so glad that this goal served you (but no comparing, friends — we only ever want this space to serve you and bring you joy, never shame).
Thank you so much for this line “this old gal can love with abandon”! And we have benefitted greatly from your love, Mo! Thank you for all you have done to nurture safe spaces here and in your classroom and your life.
Peace,
Sarah
i love the celebration of a different kind of “coming of age” here, Mo–the embrace of your self and of the gift of getting older.
Mo, I’m glad you took a moment to say hello in the Zoom today – I loved seeing you and catch a glimpse of the game in the background. I’m loving your words today, especially that last line – – I’m so happy to sing of who I am today – – each year just gets better and better, doesn’t it? We are blessed to still be lovers of people and of life.
A big THANK YOU to all who contributed and to those who made the prompts each day. I have grown and have made new writing friends. A wonderful experience.
Sadly, I can’t join the ZOOM meeting today as I have another commitment.
Eyes, Heart to Fingers
I draw because grandmother
studied art at Stanford
and my mother painted.
I write because my father
wrote a note each day
during the war
(He should be sainted)
celebrating God, life
and romance with a letter.
I inherited these traits.
Searching with my eyes
I watch the world around me
and try to make it better.
What I see
goes into my heart
that stimulates my fingers
to grab a pencil or brush, as a tool
to carry the emotion
out from my fingers (as a rule)
onto canvas or paper-
a serious caper.
Your dad should indeed be sainted! And what a great reason to write.
I love the imagery of your poem, Susan! When you wrote,
“to grab a pencil or brush, as a tool
to carry the emotion
out from my fingers”
I literally imagined a hand with sparkles on the fingers moving towards a pencil.
I love this poem! Thank you for sharing!
Susan, this was terrific! Loved reading your writers’ origin story. And I loved the last line and the irony of the “serious caper.” Writing is that, indeed! Beautiful job on this. It’s been fun sharing poetry with you!
Hi Susan, thanks for sharing. Art and writing are excellent tools/sources to guide us and get us through difficult moments. Keep painting/drawing.
Susan,
What a gift to “carry the emotion/out from my fingers (as a rule)” as I imagine you showing the pencil or brush what to do to share and show a way of reading the world. Lovely.
Sarah
Sarah, I loved your poem! An elegant gem, and I love the image it evokes, especially with those last lines! Here’s to all of us meeting what awaits with hips proudly swaying across our spaces.
My girls inspire much of what I write; it’s hard raising kids anytime, but especially now. So my poem today was inspired by that lovely and poignant line that you shared from Katherine Hoerth. I’ve characterized my youngest as a bird in past poems, but I’m not so sure that that’s completely accurate.
From Katherine Hoerth: “Adolescence is a meadow and you, girl, are snake — / not sunflower, not field mouse, not baby mockingbird./ You emerged from the leathery case of childhood, / the ooze of your former self slick on your skin” ( “Self Portrait at Fourteen as a Diamondback,” p. 43).
Fifteen
I wish the world to see her as I do.
I wish for her to see, within her, worlds:
I wish for her to see herself anew.
A bird, while often heard, inspires few
with fear of power. Instead: let coils unfurl –
I wish the world to see her as I do.
Asleep, she doubts her powers are able to
give bite to life. (But see yourself, brave girl.)
I wish for her to see herself anew.
Her muddled mind sees all through shades of blue –
amid this heavy world, her thoughts a whirl –
I wish for her to see herself anew.
Arise, then, sleepy serpent as if new –
Sleek as snakeskin, iridescent pearl –
I wish the world to see her as I do.
And see the world as something to pursue
And tortured, torturing thoughts at last unquerl
I wish the world to see her as I do
I wish for her to see herself anew.
Wendy, the repetition of lines from the first stanza throughout this poem is simply lovely, like a reinforcement of your wish for the world and her. Thank you for sharing!
Wendy, this is beautiful. I love how inspired you were by the snake prompt. I loved that line, but didn’t have time to delve into it today. Your refrains work so well in the poem.
Wendy, This poem is a prayer all parents pray for their daughters. I love the repetition, the mother’s love whispered in each line. I hope you share this poem w/ your girl so she will know you are her mirror and she is powerful and worthy.
P.S. I did see your Day 29 poem and left a comment for you.
Wendy,
if ever there is an anthology about what it’s like to be 15, this poem needs to be included.
I love, love, love your first stanza
and how you come back to it directly and indirectly.
Wendy,
Thank you for your poem today and for introducing, re-introducing us to your girls in this way. This stanza struck me:
Arise, then, sleepy serpent as if new –
Sleek as snakeskin, iridescent pearl –
I wish the world to see her as I do.
I deeply appreciate the wish here, and I wonder how all of us putting our wishes into the world may, just may bring them to be. I am feeling like anything is possible with poetry, and I will wish, too, for “her to see herself anew.”
Peace,
Sarah
Wendy, I love the complexity of your poem and the repetition wraps around the poem like a mother’s loving arms. You have so many intriguing and provocative images throughout this poem. I especially enjoyed “sees all through shades of blue” and “let coils unfurl”. At the heart of your poem is a mother’s deep love for her daughter, and how she wants the world to see her daughter in the same loving way which you captured perfectly with “I wish the world to see her as I do.” I think that desire is universal. Gorgeous and provocative poem.
Thank you, Sarah! Thank you, Verselovers! What an amazing month of writing this has been. I have learned and loved so much. I am really going to miss this daily dose of insight, humor, advocacy, heartbreak, empathy, storytelling – truly, a nourishing experience to be in community with you.
writing
a discovery –
life-giving as water
whether dribbles sprays bursts desert mirage
reckless abandon when flowing freely
simple contours of a bottled form
always quenching always cleansing always healing
Maureen, your poetry is always so rich with imagery. I love the “life-giving as water” and your last line is the perfect description of writing: “always quenching always cleansing always healing”. I could not agree more! Fantastic poem!
Maureen, I love your metaphor. From “dribbles” to “flowing freely,” I can see poetry in each of these distinct forms. Thank you for sharing.
Maureen, what beautiful imagery. And that last line – wow. Love this.
Maureen, that first line says what my heart feels. How do those who do not write exist, live w/out words? “Simple contours” is such a lovely image, and I’m thinking of poems as contours, as the containers for all we hold. And it doesn’t matter if they spray or burst; there’s beauty in the desert and in the rainforest and in all the contoured in between s. Thank you for being here, for being a faithful Verselove friend. ?
Maureen, love your metaphor here, and agree that it is so true. I’m so going to miss our time together. <3
Sarah, thank you so much for your beautiful poem and engaging prompt. I followed your form today. I can just see your hips swaying “to meet what waits”. Love that end! Verse Love has been a blessing in my life. I am continually in awe of the phenomenal writing others share in this wonderful space. The thoughtful, generous comments encourage me to return and to keep writing.
Impulse
passion
untamed, roars out of control
thunders like a waterfall
plunging past the jagged precipice
an angel falls
drowning rainbows
Barb Edler
30 April 2022
This is a perfect description of the word impulse, Barb. So much imagery! Thanks for sharing!
Eautiful images, Bard. That last stanza really makes me think. Wow.
Barb, as a rather impulsive—especially w/ words—person, your poem hits my soul. The owner of waterfalls echo the power of passionate women. Thank you for being here, for writing beautiful verses, for your generous comments, for the trust and honesty in your words. ?
Barb,
I see such strength here that I want to be this speaker. I want to be able to “thunder like a waterfall” when I feel more like a drippy faucet. And I am struck by the final two words — “drowning rainbows.” Such a paradox here. The agency and power but also the consequence.
Peace,
Sarah
I love all these water metaphors, Barb! You and I were both thinking about water today. This is a gorgeous line, “thunders like a waterfall” – I am thinking about how poetry works this way sometimes, almost overpowering. Very lovely poem! I have really enjoyed this month with you, reading your fabulous poems!
Barb, love your words and imagery in this: full of power! Thanks so much for sharing your writing with us this month, it’s been such a pleasure!
Barb — “Impulse”… this gives me a true sense of the push of impulse. I love the strong words: plunging and drowning and jagged…that surely highlights the edginess of “impulse”! I look forward to your words in June! Hugs, Susie
I chose to follow Sarah’s form too, so I (extra) appreciated what you have done here. IMPULSE! Waterfall! Untamed!
Your final lines (an angel falls
drowning rainbows) took me out of the literal into that wonderful realm of poetry where I no longer need to know; I only need to listen and feel.
<3
Barb, it was great to see you today! I love the word choice in your second stanza: “thunders like a waterfall / plunging past the jagged precipice.” So vivid! Thank you for writing this month (and for all of your kind and thoughtful comments).
Thank you, Sarah and all other mentors this month, for offering this space to share. Today’s prompt caused me to think of the ongoing struggle between what people most often admire me for and what inside me is wanting to be seen and heard.
artist
responsible
logical
level-headed
a veil,
shadowing what
is more important
innovator
improviser
creator
Charlene, I am captivated by your veil, imagining its translucent nature, covering and yet showing/hinting – the artist that you are. Veils can be very protective, I think – sheltering the
within, letting magic happen! Loved this.
Oh Charlene! That veil is such a powerful metaphor. Well done!
Charlene,
I love this image “a veil,/shadowing what/is more important”. The word “more” is just a poignant word of judgment and evaluation making me think about who decides — and the artist as having the capacity, maybe the duty to choose.
Cool.
Peace,
Sarah
Sarah, Your poem is lovely and I am grateful for the opportunity to have read about Katsura leaves, apricot hearts in autumn and all of the poems posted this month. I’ve Bryan to thank for that! And of course I’ve a grateful heart to everyone who has posted or commented and sprinkled loveliness and hope in this troubled world.
Nobody talks about the shape of my soul,
lithesome and beautiful,
gracefully greeting each new morning
even when clouds
haunt a purple sky.
Nobody talks about the weight of my soul,
light as the goose feather under the bed
or a wisp of spider silk
still strong enough
to cradle a trampled heart.
Nobody mentions gossamer wings
wrapped around goose-bumped arms
weakening knees, shortening breath.
Nobody mentions her radiance,
her purity, her perfection.
Nobody notices the shape of our souls.
Ann, wow! The imagery of your poem is mesmerizing. Your opening line immediately drew me in, thinking about the shapes of souls. The contrast between weight and light add a wonderful dynamic to your poem. I absolutely loved “even when clouds/haunt a purple sky” and “to cradle a trampled heart”…gorgeous! The radiant perfection at the end gave me goose-bumps. Stunningly beautiful poem! Kudos!
What a beautiful focus, “the shape of our souls” – so essential to our bodies. Your words are both haunting and hopeful; love thinking about the weight of a soul, these lines –
Gorgeous! I have enjoyed your poems this month; thank you for sharing!
Ann, this is beautiful. A wonderful ending note for this month.
I love this, Ann. Beautiful imagery to describe your radiant, perfect soul. Maybe we all need to take time to acknowledge our own wonderful souls and the souls of others. The soul doesn’t weigh much, but is the essence of our being.
Ann,
So grateful for you and your poetry this month. Thank you for sharing this space and being a part of the nourishing of safety for so many poets to share and receive a witness to their words.
I am struck by the pronouns here – -from my to her to our. And thinking about the “weight of my soul” light yet strong and the “gossamer wings” wrapping arms toward “her radiance” then “our souls.” This progression is an enveloping of self but also welcomes the collective. Makes me wonder about nobody noticing because they are all within, together making and shaping the souls. Oh, I love thinking about the possibilities in this poem and that in doing so allows me to talk about , mention, and notice!
Peace,
Sarah
Sarah,
You will forever have my gratitude for these past thirty days (and the days to come, I am sure). I suffered a devastating loss of my most cherished companion five years ago today from sudden heart failure. He was my muse, and we so often took to poetry and the written word to celebrate being alive and how wonderful that is. When he died, my poetry did as well. It was simply too painful to write without my audience of one to receive my stanzas. I’ve dabbled here and there, since, but I just couldn’t keep going.
I admittedly wrote on paper for the first few days of this activity, and as I found my poems consistently pointing to his death, I just stopped, regrouped, and began again when I felt I could look at the other elements of life worthy of poetry (and, of course, this chapter of my life when warranted). I will go back to add my stanzas to those I missed early on, but thank you for bringing poetry back to my life, thank you for bringing a community of writers back into my life, and thank you for offering me a team of muses readily awaiting the arrival of a rusty poet.
I am (as told by the words of my life)
I am the search for a path —
Wanderings and wonderings of what comes next,
Fears and possibilities pouring onto a blank canvas.
I am unspoken truths brought out from the darkness —
A sun warming your face and shedding the cold,
Breaking free of chains and daring to touch the sun.
I am a life raft holding you afloat —
Bringing you back up to air as the rapids of loss
Try to swallow you, carrying you towards the eddy.
I am a compass pointed towards truth —
Leading through a world filled with falsehoods
And thieves, pulling you through thorns.
I am a memorial of meaning —
Proof of an existence where the past no longer haunted,
Where scars were sculptors, and the world was a poem.
I am a confidant of confessions —
Listening to questions and truths too delicate to bring into
The open air, patiently by your side, holding your hand.
I am a sacred sanctuary —
Formed by the gentle pull of a pen on parchment,
Friction allowing the fluidity of truth to form.
I am —
You are —
And we shall be.
Oh, Rhiannon, thank you for sharing your story with us here, and I’m glad you shared some poems this month.
As for this one, this stanza stands out to me, moves me most:
“I am a confidant of confessions —
Listening to questions and truths too delicate to bring into
The open air, patiently by your side, holding your hand.”
becuase this is what words/writing has always been for me, a pretty internal, introverted person. Thank you for writing this so beautifully.
Rhiannon, I am deeply moved by your poem. I understand exactly what you are sharing here. The first time I was involved with Verse Love, I struggled not to just write about my own loss. Truly, this space is healing. I am so glad you took up your pen again. I loved ” and the world was a poem”. I can imagine the tears you’ve shed writing this piece. Thank you so much for your beautiful images, your powerful poem, and your willingness to share! Peace!
Rhiannon, thank you for your openness and vulnerability, your trust in this community; thank you to for sharing the amazing power of poetry – this healing … or beginnings of healing … that it has offered you this month. I am truly touched by your poem here; these words especially –
I need to believe there are so many precious ways that we might bring our loved ones ‘back up to air’, that we might feel their presence, still.
Rhiannon,
I am very grateful you found your way to VerseLove and that you grew into wanting to share. Writing is so therapeutic. I can only imagine how it feels to lose the person you shared so much with. I know now empty it feels to NOT be able to share poetry with my husband. He has zero desire, zero interest. That’s one of many reasons this space is so necessary.
Just like your other poems, this one is so powerful. I especially like
Rhiannon,
It is an honor and privilege to serve as muse because you have served as ours. I love the reciprocity of this space because it serves and is served by. Thank you trusting that we’d wait and be here for when you were ready.
I love this “I am a sacred sanctuary” and that the speaker recognizes and embraces the “Friction allowing the fluidity of truth to form.” Indeed, they are intertwined.
Peace,
Sarah
Thank you for organizing another verselove, Sarah. I’m so glad to take part in some prompts this year. Thank you everyone for sharing poetry and positive comments 🙂 <3
Glow On
The truth is, no one in my life has ever told me I cannot, or will not, do things;
the voices around me have always been encouraging, positive, empowering.
The only negative one I know is my own,
in the way I compare myself with others, the insecurities I hold.
I don’t look as pretty as that
I don’t write as lovely as that
I don’t love as deep as that
I don’t talk as smooth as that
I don’t teach as effectively as that
I can go on…
I don’t know where this comes from, especially when people praise these things I think aren’t good enough.
Is it just human nature?
Whatever it is,
I still keep
looking
writing
loving
talking
teaching
It’s who I am.
I may have some insecurities
but I also have a damn strong
and adventurous soul and the
voices of those around me who
remind me of my glow.
Angie,
I love the truth of the internal voice you present here. We are so quick to compare, but your final stanza is it:
I may have some insecurities
but I also have a damn strong
and adventurous soul and the
voices of those around me who
remind me of my glow.
Keep being strong — damn strong — and glow. This world is in need of your light.
Angie, why is it human nature to be so hard on one’s self. I feel the negative voices, too. I have adopted a bad habit of swearing out loud to stop listening to these harmful voices. I love how you show your power to over come the insecurities at the end of your poem. The last line is truly beautiful “remind me of my glow”. Gorgeous!
Wow, Angie. As I read your poems, I couldn’t stop thinking how much I could relate. It seemed like you narrated my inner thoughts in such as beautiful and empowering way. Thanks for sharing!
Angie, I can relate to being my own worst critic. I love that you still forge ahead and don’t let the insecurities stop you. So glad you’re here with us, full of spunk and an adventurous spirit!
Angie,
Thank you for your words “but I also have a damn strong/and adventurous soul” — this is invigorating to read and made me thinks. Yes! Damn yes! And then that last phrase, “my glow” is a lovely image to close the Verselove month.
Peace,
Sarah
Sarah as always thank you for putting this monthly challenge/celebration together. I didn’t always make it to the keyboard and some days I didn’t even finish the poem in my notebook, but I looked every day and I enjoyed the prompts from all of our hosts (so thank you all too!).
Our seniors celebrated their last day just yesterday. I teach Seniors writing and while it’s a more essay/nonfiction class, I do try to squeeze poetry in for at least our morning notebook time together. I find myself doing this everywhere where I reflect on my time with them and my own time as a senior student — after all many of them come to me for help with writing college essays and graduation speeches. It seemed only fitting to celebrate that today, especially after reading the lines from Sophie Stephens: “Baby, if you see what I see, you would never doubt again” (“If Only,” p. 42).
Seniors in Flight
Like migratory birds often return
to the place of their nesting,
usually for the benefit of resources,
so too do I see my seniors in the spring.
College scholarships,
Recommendations,
and graduation speeches
must all be built and crafted.
The time has come.
So they fly to familiar comforts
and I accept them back
arms wide as eagle’s wings.
I watch them peck at
troublesome words,
awkward phrasing,
and stiff syntax.
They scratch out imagery
and shape prose into poetic song,
all to make imaginations soar.
They are ready to write,
to fly on their own power
They were built for it —
yet still they doubt.
I walk them back out
to the edge of the cliff,
the future they can’t see,
and that’s what scares them:
What lurks ahead? Are they ready?
“You’ve got this.” I whisper,
reassurance verbalized
or written — the final nudge.
I smile when they soar.
Erica, I love following your classroom and own writing life, so thrilled with all the ways your nurture writers. This is a glorious way of thinking about writers: “fly on their own power” and the “smile when they soar.”
Erica,
The bird metaphor and imagery work so well here. I especially love these lines:
”I watch them peck at
troublesome words,
awkward phrasing,
and stiff syntax.
They scratch out imagery
and shape prose into poetic song,
all to make imaginations soar.”
Thank you for sharing!
Erica, I also teach teens, and hear the bittersweet song of their flight here.
Erica, oh, I so hope you can share this poem with your students. It is absolutely beautiful. I can remember these days well when I taught college comp with high school students. Love the “what lurks ahead” that fear we all have, knowing life’s journeys can be unpredictable and troubled. Your whisper and nudge at the end is highlighted so well by your final line “I smile when they soar.” Magnificent poem!
Erica,
Those seniors are dang lucky to have you. I teach 8th grade and it has some similarities…helping kids navigate the next step.
Your poem captures that so well. I especially love
Sarah,
I cannot thank you enough for creating this space and keeping it going! This is often my safe space, my lifeline, my therapy. I get so much out of reading other people’s poems and the resulting comments. I have never felt so close to people that I have never even met. Sure, I get a lot of writing my own poems, but I really think it’s in reading other’s that I feel the most.
Your poem . . . how you can be so succinct just blows my mind. My goal in the next year IS to really work on economy. Every poem that I write has more than it needs. Here is today’s output:
Neg
One of the neighborhood girls
says, “You know . . . you have no butt.
And it’s not just that you don’t have one . . .
it’s even negative.”
She turns to the others.
“Let’s call her Neg.”
I’m certain I had no idea
that I lacked a butt
(well, a “bottom,” for we
weren’t allowed to say “butt” in our house).
But, adolescence certainly
has a way of helping us notice things,
of shining a spotlight on what will become
our insecurities.
That moment shaped me
(duh . . . I’m writing about it 44 years later).
I gradually became the name.
I sunk into myself,
a black hole,
going from self-acceptance
(cluelessness really)
to
insecurity
to
loathing.
I went
From positive to negative.
What was negative slipped to
even more negative.
If she thought I had no butt then,
she should see me now.
Neg.
~Susan Ahlbrand
2022
Susan,
Thank you so much for sharing this memory. I wrote about my childhood bully this month, too, carrying her words but more the shame. I didn’t know how to claim who I was/am or to resist others who try to name me. It feel like the speaker is working through the naming. I am not sure about the tone in the final lines. Maybe ambivalence…I feel agency, maybe humor. The negative plus the negative equals a positive?
Sending hugs and gratitude for your poetry this month and always, Susan.
Susan, your voice is so strong in this, and I especially appreciate and love the phrases in parenthesis – I think that’s where the voice is strongest. Thank you for sharing a tough and lasting memory.
Susan, oh gosh, your poem just makes me hurt all over. Your such an awesome poet, and I am completely absorbed by the painful insecurities shared in your poem. Your end is so dark, a final painful note that shares the damage created from hurtful words and self loathing. Hugs and peace, Barb
Oh, Susan — This is so hard to read…the very thought of teenagers’ mindless labeling … that is just plain mean. Let me say, your a$$ doesn’t matter one iota compared to your marvelous poetry! Who needs a big booty to write important poems, clear images, deep ideas??? You and your sweet booty are as POSITIVE as anyone needs to be…I mean it! And now 44 years later, I hereby decree “what a sweet a$$ you have graced upon these white spaces!” Ta-da! Take the crown and sit regally down! Hugs and love, Susie
Dr. Donovan, thank you for making this possible! I learned so much from all the community. It was lovely to interact with my friends from the Oral History Project in this space! I loved how you borrowed Alison Malee’s voice from “Bravery.” For my poem, I decided to follow her voice too.
Write Like a Dragonfly
a pen—
going in different directions.
like a dragonfly hovering
its way to the next word,
portraying words beyond the paper
to unveil hidden perplexities
Carolina, this is a gorgeous metaphor. I think dragonflies are beautiful, perhaps my favorite insect to watch as they hover and land.
I like the analogy and since I write using colorful pens it seemed double appropriate of a comparison to me! Great poem.
Carolina,
Your metaphor of a pen as “a dragonfly hovering its way to the next word” stole my heart. There is such a delicate curiosity with a dragonfly. What a perfect choice…I absolutely love this.
Caroline, your metaphor is exquisite. I love the “dragonfly hovering/its way to the next word” I can see this image perfectly. Your ending is rich “unveil hidden perplexities”. Wow! Gorgeous poem!
Whoa, Carolina! This poem is so beautiful. I love the “dragonfly hovering” – so patient in the knowing that the next word will come! And then, the truth in “words beyond the paper” is just how I feel about writing. The words extend so much further than we can imagine when we share our words with others.
Peace,
Sarah
Yesterday I saw an IG story posted by a former student who shared a message someone sent about her body and clothing choices. This policing of female bodies drives me mad, and as a teacher I refused to comply. I’m dedicating this poem to Amanda. You can find her on IG at @AmadaFrostBeauty if you like to see her amazing eyebrow work.
Switchback
Not everyone approves of the way i dress and i couldn’t give a ?. —Amanda Frost
My body is a
switchback. Around
each hairpin curve
uncharted wonders
await. In the rear
view I observe routes
I’ve traversed. Ahead
destinations I’ll
peregrinate in verse.
—Glenda Funk
April 30, 2022
———
Sarah,
Thank you for this space to write, to discover myself and others through verse, to meet new friends, to grow in empathy and imagination. I’m not being hyperbolic in saying this community has changed my life. I adore you, my friend. You are a wonder and among the hardest working, most giving educators I’ve known. ???
Glenda,
I have been amazed this month with your ability to compose. This line sings: “around each hairpin curve uncharted wonders”
Thank you also for all your heartfelt comments!
Well said – Glenda. And your poem is a wonderland of words – switchback, hairpin, uncharted, and my favorite – peregrinate! You created a wonderful ride! Thank you!
Glenda, I thoroughly enjoyed where your poem traveled. It made me think of Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken. Thank you for encouraging me in my own poetry travels this month.
Glenda, oh those switchbacks! Dangerous as you’re approaching but necessary in changing direction. Thinking about them in relation to self present a whole new direction, the looking at where you’ve been and making choices for what lies ahead. We need to do more wandering. I’ve enjoyed wandering through your verse this month!
Glenda, once again I am utterly in love with the poem you’ve created. Your powerful voice celebrates the female curves perfectly. I adored “In the rear/view I observe routes/I’ve traversed”. Amanda, I am sure, will love this poem, too. I also could not agree more with your note to Sarah. She is an incredible force and her generosity of time and energy is such a blessing. Your voice in this space is also an incredible gift. Thank you for sharing your tremendous talent! Hugs, Barb
Glenda, I love how you find inspiration around you. A strong poem and a strong note to end the month on.
Fascinating poem, Glenda, not only about the body but the zig-zag course of life – as if standing on a pinnacle, considering where you have been and turning to consider where to wander next. I want to say where to “fly” next – it’s that magnificent word, peregrinate; it brings to mind a majestic falcon (which, for some reason only known to the Muse, I wrote about twice in VerseLove). Which in turn makes me think of your unique vision, bringing so much power to your verse. Your “company of poems” from yesterday lingers in my mind and just want to say what a gift and blessing you are; I would peregrinate to your table any day, with joy. So grateful for you and your words! Here’s to wandering, traversing, and versing – thank you. <3
Glenda,
Thank you so very much for all that you contribute to this space. Both your poems and your comments are so powerful and often leave me shaking my head in al the right ways.
This poem—and its images—is just perfect.
Glenda,
The economy of this poem is just perfect for the message and the tone and the voice.
“My body is a /switchback.” Yes! Yes, it is! Listen, people. And this physical body but also the body of a writer takes shape in the way of traversing. The movement here. Alive. I just feel alive in reading this.
Peace,
Sarah
Oh how I love that word “peregrinate” – teaching me new words, once again, Glenda! (Was the peregrine falcon named this for its wandering travel?) What a marvelous poem, and a marvelous month alongside you, reading your amazing poetry! Thank you, Glenda.
Glenda, absolutely love this fierce little piece! And kudos to your dedication to and support of your student; you go, Amanda!
Sarah — I second Glenda’s assessment! Hugs and love, Susie
Glenda — How beautiful to acknowledge this young person with this wonderful poem. I love the “switchback” (so vivid) … and the image of a rear view…that’s always a striking reflection. So glad you are here, my friend! I love your words! Susie
Glenda, a cheer on the note to Sarah, and a cheer on the hairpin turns, wondering what awaits around the next bend. Life is just so full of surprises, adventures, journeys of discovery – some planned, some not so much…..thanks so much for the beautiful words today.
Thank you, Sarah for Verse-Love and Ethical ELA. I have been writing poetry ever since I could hold a pencil in my hand, and yet I didn’t think I could write one every day for a month. You have proven me wrong. This was such an important growing exercise for me and I’m sure for all the participants. Reading other people’s poem was essential in that process of growing a poem. Thank you again and again. This platform has given me new confidence. When you wrote – I Sing, I immediately thought of Langston Hughes poem, “I, too.” I took the form of his poem and created my own.
And I, too
And I, too, dance in the darkness.
Hear the voices of the past.
Bend my body to make shapes
With the shadows.
My body weeps,
And it laughs,
It grows old but is still sturdy.
Tomorrow,
It will swing and sway
While no one is watching
I’ll dance with words
Across a silken page
I’ll glide to an ending
Then.
Look,
how beautiful I am
Graceful as my body ages —
And I, too, will keep on dancing.
“dance with words across a silken page” makes me think of us poets using our favorite tools to craft our poems. I have favorite journals and pens I poet with… Such grace found in these words.
Joanne, You will always be our Word Dancer muse bringing us inspiration such as these magnificent words:
“I’ll dance with words
Across a silken page
I’ll glide to an ending”
I love that image. I’m so glad you joined this community this month and look forward to seeing you in June and each Tuesday.
A word dancer! I love that phrase — it’s beautiful. I love the motion in this poem as it reflects the way you dance with the words on the page. I especially like how it transforms from a dance that I pictured physically with the body to one shaped and created by words.
Graceful, indeed, Joanne. I am finding in the growing older that I “bend my body to make shapes/with the shadows” too – even as I make peace with them. You dance with words, you make words dance; I am grateful for the always-beautiful, inspiring choreography!
Joanne,
For you to add your name to Word Dance speaks volumes. Thank you.
What a lovely poem! Love the imagery of your dance in the darkness, bending your body to make shapes with shadows…dancing with words on a silken page ~ just lovely!
Sarah, everything about your poem this morning is exquisite: the brevity, the music, the shape, the rhythm, and the poignancy (I had to look up Katsura…and I fancy myself a nature boy at times). Beautiful poem to culminate a beautiful month. THANK YOU. Hoping to be in the ZOOM where it happens this afternoon.
It’s My Tune
~brcrandall
i handle love
like Rainman
it’s raining, man…
i love the rain
but no running,
ankle pain
& man boobs
the ripley ass
girth gathers
middle-age fast
calf muscles
once a joy
(walked 8 miles
thatta-boy)
i handle love
i love handles
larger than life
confessionals
blubber blab
blabber blub
morning whale
glub glub glub
muscle tuned
muscle toned
human carcass
fleshed & boned
girth gorilla
body baboon
sing the body
humming this tune.
“sing the body
humming this tune”
Listening in ….
‘girth gathers, middle-age fast’, and ‘blubber blab, blabber blub’ – are you talking about me? Love these words, the repetition and rhyme! Fun, lively and truth!
Bryan, Bryan, Bryan: This body conscious verse has me giggling and nodding knowingly. These lines I recognize—in my hard-ass husband:
“& man boobs
the ripley ass
girth gathers
middle-age fast”
Still, there’s a running rhythm and a heartbeat not ready to slow down. And what does it say about me that I heard the voice of the Scottish play’sxweird sisters hand in hand as I read. LOL. Flabulous poem, friend.
Bryan,
I adore your use of rhyme scheme and playful language to lighten your approach to such a vulnerable string of words. There is something beautiful about owning our bodies, difficult as that is for the majority of us (dare I say all of us).
I found myself snickering at “i handle love, i love handles.” I once heard a woman say “I have love handles, but that just means I’m worth holding onto.” It was just so honest, joyful, and wonderful — I have never forgotten that line.
Ah, my poetic frog, we are all uniquely our own, and that is the magic of it all.
Bryan,
I love the voice in this poem. We are just so hard on ourselves. But society helped us to be. I grinned a few times, but I especially love these lines:
Oh, Bryan…..this brings to mind the medals of age group awards of 5 and 10Ks of 2018, 2019 and years past, and the huffing and puffing nowadays down the driveway. That middle age stuff is no joke. I’m joining the humming choir.
Hi Sarah–I don’t know if you’ve read SORTA LIKE A ROCK STAR by Matthew Quick, which is now titled, “ALL TOGETHER NOW” and is a movie on Netflix. BUT…You are a rock star (the kind Quick writes about). You’ll know what I mean when or if you’ve read that book (one of my top five). Anyhoo….sending much gratitude.
I Sing the Moments
Poets sing the moments–
the pounding surf at sunrise
the barn owl hooting above the haybales
the homeless dog with longing eyes
the wise woman with the hunched spine
the impromptu hug from a muddy grandchild
the swift crack of gunfire
the spacious quiet of the stars at midnight
the rising passion of holding hands on a date
the sadness of a dying wasp walking its last inches
the artistry of surrender in the doldrums of life
the silky touch of water, arms lifting in and out,
a graceful swan in the current.
Revival. Celebration. Humanity.
I Sing the Moments.
–Dixie Keyes
Wowza, Dixie.
“the sadness of a dying wasp walking its last inches”
Kevin
Kevin, I have an entire poem I wrote about that wasp…. ):
I Sing the Moments is a beautiful title and ending line. I was delighted about how many of these moments I have also attempted to capture in words. I appreciate that you were able to write about such a diverse range of experiences too: good and bad.
Dixie, your imagery created a slide show in my mind! Beautiful!
Sarah, I have family with me today, so I won’t be able to join the zoom. I wanted to thank you for this inspiring and safe space for writing. You have built a beautiful community and I am proud and privileged to be a part of it. Thanks!
Sarah, thank you for a community of writers – you are all my people! I’m so blessed by each person here in this space that helps shape us as we sway forth to see what waits (your hip poem is beautiful, and this image will stay in my mind). What waited for me last night was an Open Mic at our local coffee shop, where I’d worked with a community partner to arrange this event. It’s a small town where most are more interested in hunting and fishing than any book, so I wasn’t sure what turnout would be. 8 seeking faces stared back at me – – and they ALL reminded me of me the first year I participated in VerseLove – hungry for something and I didn’t know what it was but I found it and wanted more and now it’s like the air I breathe. They ALL asked to please come back to the coffee shop and do this again. Half of them read their own poetry. Boxer Moon, our fellow writer here, is the System-Wide Teacher of the Year for the second time in his career and could not be there because he was at the celebration dinner, but he will help me lead this group (he doesn’t know it yet, so he will be thrilled to discover this right here on this page because he has been asking me to pleeeease start a group). We are on the brink of a writer’s group in this small town (miracles happen!), and YOU planted the seed years ago. Just like those bare trees in your back yard that turned green…..those leaves are us! Thank you, Sarah!
Iron Sharpens Iron
today concludes
another
month of
VerseLove
daily poetry writing
and brings a
Zoom Open Mic
to meet
those already
our friends
heart to heart
face to face
those who’ve done what
Proverbs 27:17
says
they do~
iron
sharpens iron
and
one man
sharpens another
Wow .. love stories of how seeds planted in one place, bring life to another …
Kevin
Kim, yay to your small town writers group/open mic! (Wish I could join you in VerseLove’s today but I’m pulled every-which-way.) Your Proverbs pairing of iron to iron against heart to heart and face to face hones your intent. This notion of meeting those who are already friends is beautiful and thanks to Sarah, you, and everyone in this space. Your words have gifted us with friendship each day this month!
Speak it, Kim! This truth of iron sharpening iron. I cannot help thinking, too, of how iron enters our souls through pain, often inflicted (Psalm 105: 17-19). Here as poets, as a community, we rise above, lift each other above… so excited for this new group and all the adventures, the wonders to come! Congrats to Boxer Moon on this new appointment, lol! As to seeds planted: you, my friend, are the planter and cultivator of far more than you know: vast fields of lush greenery, sun-dappled flower gardens, fragrant orchards of peace, providing shade of comfort. Thank you for every. single. word. <3
I love that Proverbs quote – And I have been sharpened by so many this month. Thank you for being one of the inspirational commenters to me!
Kim, I’m thinking of the way each ending brings a beginning and trying not to lose momentum or progress. I’m counting on you and others to be that iron that “sharpens iron” for me. ?
Kim, I love how you captured the magic of Verse Love and celebrate this final day in your poem. Loved “heart to heart”. Yes, the love shared in this space is humbling and the verse you share is a perfect descriptor. Thank you for your words and beautiful poetry throughout this month!
Kim,
You are such a vital force in this group and I cheer you for bringing poetry to an Open Mic in your small community. You are changing lives through helping people find their voice.
When I scroll through the posting board, I ALWAYS stop when I see your name because I am certain you will make an observation that settles in my heart.
Sarah, words cannot express the gratitude of/from/for the community you have built here, but thank you! I have mostly written free form this month (when I could) so I opted for a haiku this morning–counting syllables can be time-consuming 🙂 Enjoy the Zoom, I will be at soccer games all day.
———
pathos knocks, detour
logos dawns comfort, enlight
embrace ethos, write
haikus are always the perfect poem … yours flows, stops, flows, joins, ends just write
Kevin
Stefani, haiku is a favorite of mine. Sometimes they roll out with easy grace; sometimes they constrain. All a matter of finding the form for wrapping the poem that would be born. I love these verbs surrounding pathos, logos, ethos – and yes – write. Thank you for the inspiration and light of your words this month.
Stefani, very clever poem. Love the nod to logic.
Ode to Hips
Mama said, “Don’t worry” you would be coming
And at age sixteen you did
One lover called you childbearing
I tried to starve you
Snuff you out
Deny your existence
But I would see your reflection in
an hourglass
a pepper shaker
a vase
I wanted to silence you
But the more I tried
The more you said, “I am here to stay.”
I’m now in my fifties
You contain many stories
I write this ode to you
In an effort to make peace
Jennifer, this is beautiful and something many can connect to. I think you could replace your title word “hips” with a few other feminine characteristics and it would still work. Thank you for sharing.
Echoes of Whitman
“You contain many stories”
Kevin
Love this! I have made peace with my hips, I hope you have made peace with yours. The poem is a wonderful olive branch!
TRUTH.
Jennifer! Who would have thought an ode to hips would be so moving-?? I hadn’t thought about the stories they have to tell… that’s a whole new spin on things. This effort to make peace – with one’s hips – is surprisingly poignant. Thank you for this poem that sings, softly, in the background, of overcoming – and for all your beautiful words this month.
Jennifer, This is beautiful. I love that you write to them. A wonderful poem, you’ve written here (suddenly I’m responding as if Yoda). And when you get the chance, don’t forget to dance: https://youtu.be/dZPQdZLyHYE
OMG I forgot about that hip song! LMAO. LMHO. Thank you for the throwback!!
So many of us relate to these words and move through life bemoaning our shape. I hope that you find peace…
Jennifer, this is gorgeous, a love letter those of us over that certain age understand in ways others may not. Reading
“I write this ode to you
In an effort to make peace”
I can’t help but contemplate the way we’re conditioned to fight against and reject our bodies. It’s an injustice and a shame.
Sarah, I am drawn to the idea of swaying in your words, the soft, gentle movement that allows us to peruse and contemplate, leisurely. And you’ve given us the idea of inherited truths (how both hatred and love are passed down) with complete brevity – only 6 words. Thank you for offering us a celebration today. I Sing: Writer took me directly to Whitman, so I’ve borrowed from him today.
I Sing: Writer
I celebrate: poet, and sing: writer
Every word written to me equally writes itself to you.
I have read what the writers were writing,
The words at their births and their deaths,
But I do not write of births and deaths.
I meander and summon,
I claim and live alphabets,
I pause and peer at the slopes and rounded curves of letters,
The runes of this array.
Grasp these letters and arrange them as you want
Arrange and arrange and arrange,
Celebrate the syllabary, the lore, of the poet.
Jennifer, your phrase “live alphabet” is a lovely way to spark a personified writing experience. Your repetition of “arrange” is also powerful. Thank you for sharing today.
Oooh
“The runes of this array”
Kevin
Jennifer, I stopped and read and reread and reread this part:
I pause and peer at the slopes and rounded curves of letters,
The runes of this array.
That is powerful, and that last stanza is simply eye-opening, inspiring – all the ways we arrange the runes to cast the lore of the poet.
I love the way you see the world, my friend. Unique and fresh take here.
Oh, “the lore.” I celebrate with you!
Jennifer – as always, it is hard for me to choose specifically what I love best about your poem, besides all of it. This line especially speaks to me: “But I do not write of births and deaths” – no! You write instead of living words, the alphabet, the glorious “runes of this array,” the ever-shifting meanings and perspectives. Your verse sings its celebration – I am blessed every time by the song of your poet-heart. Thank you for always lifting and piercing mine!
arrange, and arrange, and arrange… this is what our month of April is! Thank you for your inspiration all month long
Jennifer, I’ve noticed a profound shift in your poeming this month, an amazing sophistication and originality born of the ideas in this poem. You do indeed practice these lines:
“I claim and live alphabets,”
Cant wait to see what you’ll write next, my friend. ?
Jennifer — I love the sense of your process here…the “arranged[ing] that happens, of course! the “syllabary” (great word!) … you have wonderful wordplay stretched through the whole poem… how perfect is that?! Hugs, Susie
Dear Sarah: Thank you for this space to write, breathe, create, live, be. I am a better writer and poet because of it, because of this community, this communion, this wellspring from which to drink. To me, writing is one of the greatest acts of courage, putting pieces of one’s soul on the page for the sharing. I am grateful for every courageous offering here and to be able to bring my own. Thank you for all of it, and for today’s inspiration – I sing, indeed!
Polyhymnia at the Core
And there was I as smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been.
—C.S. Lewis, “How the Adventure Ended,” The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
The ghost
of my father
and grandfather
are here
in the shape
of my face
something of them
about my cheekbones
my mouth
a certain turning
My grandmother
is in my bones
those are her arms
in the mirror
fixing my hair
no denying
my mother’s eyes
the Spirit sighs
I imagine Polyhymnia
nearby
(if I can choose
my Muse)
in long cloak and veil
finger to her lips
bright eyes glimmering
silken rustlings
as she leans
whispering,
always whispering
it is with great love
that she raises
the lion’s claw
piercing every knobby layer
of my being
peeling away
until all that remains
at my tender core
is wordless song
singing there
all along
you are alive
alive alive alive
in the listening
in the remembering
in the faces
in the sacred spaces
where you have been brought
to learn
the unforced rhythms
of grace
now find your words
and be
Fran, I am both grounded in and lofted by your wordless song sung, the “alive alive alive in the listening,” in the urge to “find your words and be,” in the people who’ve brought you from sacred spaces to this place, here, with us now. So much of your chosen muse shines through you each day. I have loved opening my day with your words!
What a loving way to look at yourself as all of your ancestors within you. “the unforced rhythms of grace” lead you to be the writer you are.
“… until all that remains
at my tender core
is wordless song
singing there
all along …”
May we all always be listening, too
Kevin
The first stanza about your father and grandfather in the shape of your face is haunting and beautiful. I love this poem.
Fran, honoring your familial ancestors and the heritage and legacy of you is incredible here, this seeing them in you – cheekbones, eyes, arms – – and, I know, spirit and soul. You are blessed to have warm memories, cherished times with your grandparents that you write about so often, and I see Franna showing her sons, her granddaughters what it means to be family. They, too, see you in them – and here you are, a branch on the greenest-green-I’ve-ever-seen tree, a matriarch wrapping her family in love.
Kim, how funny is it that I’ve not thought of myself in terms of a matriarch, deeply rooted and a sheltering bough for the generations to come-? Thank you for your keen insights and the nod to my beloved little Backseat Prophet Nurture Scientist, and for always being my kindred-spirit sister <3
Again, Fran, you hit right to the core. Beautiful imagery. I loved the list of all the people who are in you and where. I often make an inventory. Polyhymnia – the muse of sacred poetry – PERFECT! Thank you!
Ah, Joanne – thank you for catching the significance of Polyhymnia’s whisperings – for me, writing comes from sacred places, calling for sacred spaces <3
Gorgeous, Fran: “no denying /my mother’s eyes / the Spirit sighs” – I love the way the words collect you unto/into the familiar, but also frightens you by the predictability of time, space, and pace that will only be temporary. Gorgeous.
Fran, you are masterful at being alive in the listening, remembering, faces and sacred spaces… I am always in awe of how you captures these memories in your words. Thank you for sharing, and for commenting so graciously today and in the past!
Fran, it is fitting that you turn to C.S.Lewis for inspiration l, that you honor your family in such gorgeous verse. Honestly, I’m running out of ways to describe the sheer beauty of your poems, the way they evoke light and lightness. These words then these words, I think as I read line to line until I reach the, no, all of it conclusion. I’ll focus on thusvv cb part:
“all that remains
at my tender core
is wordless song
singing there
all along”
as it reads like an invitation to write, so
“now find your words
and be”
and thank you for helping me find my words. ?
Fran,
You have become such a huge contributor to this group. Your poems are always so smart. I love this one…how you talk of how certain traits can be traced through bloodlines then you go to the Muse. Perfect.
Sarah, I am grateful for all of the inspiring poets and mentors I have encountered here this month. I have grown through all the kind and uplifting comments.
I wanted to celebrate my thirty days and recognize that while I consider myself a newbie to writing poetry, I have been transformed – including thinking of myself as a poet.
I’m a Poet
You say I am a poet
neophyte
apprehensive
insecure
doubtful
neophyte
innocent
fumbling
shy
neophyte
Poet you say – I am!
Christine, what a perfect crown for VerseLove! The repetition of “neophyte” is especially effective in communicating the apprehension we writers feel when attempting something daunting. I celebrate how you embraced poetry-writing and that you “have been transformed” – oh yeah, now that Poetry’s got a hold on you, it’s not going to let go! I have loved reading your poems and am so glad you are here. Here’s to all to come. 🙂
Christine, this space holds power to transform, as you mention, and you are most definitely a poet. I have found myself celebrating your words throughout this month. The reversal in positioning of words from first to last line reflects that transformation so beautifully. It shows how you embrace the shift (while still acknowledging the doubts within as we all do). Poet you are!
I love the declaration at the end, “I am!” How satisfying to feel this accomplishment in the midst of doubts.
Christine, poet you are! You are the queen. You now wear poet jewels and a crown. And what I hear here (hear, hear!) that I love is that introverted side that so many of us have that feeds our writing ~ it’s our way of expressing, of being. Welcome to the royalty of this poetry castle!
I think even experienced poets think all of these thoughts, too. The key is to keep trying, making, writing, creating ….
Kevin
Christine, Poet, I say you are. As Fran notes, the repetition is emphatic in expressing a feeling, but it’s not reflective of how I see you. I love how i’m the end you embrace the poet you are, and I’m so very grateful for your poems this month and for your generous comments to me. Thank you! ?
Sarah, thank you. I remain inspired by the ways in which you build community. I am fortunate to be here and have so enjoyed the poems and the comments and all. I’m busy today…but have fun with the zoom!
Thank you, Sarah, and everyone! It’s been a pleasure to write with you all. I think this poem went in another direction …. as I am apt to do. But I wanted to celebrate the amazing energy and activity of the comment threads for each day’s poems.
🙂
Kevin
If these words were food,
I’d steal a snack
with each poem
I’d ever read
I’d be caught nibbling pages
from the counter
or leaving letter traces
on dog-eared paper beds
I’d be munching rhymes,
false or otherwise,
but then maybe, just maybe,
what I’d do, instead:
I’d share this meal
of intangibles, a morsel
of string, a resonance,
a shared experience,
here, where we are,
inside the writers’ thread
Voice version: https://voca.ro/1deOZabaUY8t
(Wouldn’t it be great to hear voices with poems? Vocaroo is an easy, free online voice recorder: https://vocaroo.com/)
Kevin
I read your verse first, Kevin, and then listened to your voice version – you are meant to read poetry aloud. Your lines encapsulate exactly what writers do – we feed one another, we nourish one another. The imagery and sound here are phenomenal. Thank you for always being such an inspiration and encouragement.
Thank you. I hope the voice version gives another angle on the words. Voice can do that.
Kevin
Kevin, poems go in the direction they choose – they are willful children. Your consumption of our poems, the nibbling and munching is just yum. And I like that we are within the writer’s thread. (definitely going to use Vocaroo as a way of having my students celebrate each other’s writing – writing concert/gallery walk-style.
That is true. I often never know where a poem will end when I start at the start … there’s magic in that unknown. Sometimes, it even works out!
Kevin
Kevin, your extended metaphor in regards to the comments is a great way to start us off this morning…remember that care and what it means. Thank you for your voice recording as well.
Thanks!
Kevin, we could all be goat poets, eating this meal of words with real nourishment for the soul – the far better kind. Scott reminded me of Billy Collins yesterday, and you today remind me of Billy – – a crowd favorite with his unique way of seeing the world.
“goat poets” — cracking me up.
I was able to meet Billy Collins briefly at a National Writing Project conference. I didn’t say much (what can you say when you meet a fav poet?) but it was still a memorable encounter.
Kevin
Your poem is food for thought! I love how you developed “If these words were food…”
Makes me hunger for more poems!
Time to make some more then … 🙂
Oooo, Kevin – just love – here, where, we are, inside the writers’ thread. And the food imagery works well here – I can see it – I can hear it – I can feel it. Wonderful! Thank you!
Thanks, Joanne.
loved reading….mesmerized by listening. Thanks for the vocaroo of doing you. That’s the power of language (also desiring to be heard). Stellar. Thanks, Kevin!
Thanks, Bryan, and I want to say, what a pleasure it has been to “hang out” in this space with you. Loved connecting once again. See you somewhere else soon enough, I suspect.
Kevin
Kevin, a bookworm must have written your poem. 🙂 It’s been a scrumptious meal for me to read your, and many others’ poems this month.
This is so great and I really loved hearing your voice reading it. We should try incorporating that in more.
Ah, an extended metaphor! So well done with the personification of the metaphor, triple-layer poeming!
Thanks, Kevin for demonstrating the skillful manipulation of language that is fun and true at the same time.