Our Hosts
Garin Dudley, Sarah Leger, and Noah Estes are pre-service teachers studying Secondary Education English at Oklahoma State University. They have had the privilege to observe teachers and tutor students from all around. Garin enjoys partaking in any outdoor activity when she’s not writing or reading. Sarah spends her time making London Fogs, writing secret poetry to herself, and analyzing movies with friends. Noah spends most of his time obsessing over a TV show, album, or book.
Inspiration
Today marks GLSEN’s Day of Silence, in which we are encouraged to silence our own voices in protest of LGBTQ+ discrimination. Because of this, writing a poem from our own perspective seemed to be missing the point. Instead, today’s poem is meant to give something or someone else a voice. In an attempt to uphold the heart of the daily poems, we will still write, but our voices will be silenced and we can speak through something else.
Process
Having a day of silence calls attention to constraints – the silencing and erasure of LGBTQ+ people. This is why free verse is perfect to reflect on the openness and acceptance of different points of views. First start with choosing a person, cause or object then consider what perspective would offer you a new way of understanding this being/existence.
“Grass” by Carl Sandburg is the poem from which we drew our inspiration, as the piece speaks on oppression and suffering but from the point of view of the grass. Although “Grass” as well as our mentor text (below) both speak on oppression, this is not mandatory for your poem. The most important thing involves getting out of your own head and into an angle or position through your poem’s speaker to witness someone or something else’s perspective.
Feel like exploring a form other than free verse? It could be interesting to explore how the form invites a new point of view? Try one from here.
Note: Perspective taking is an important exercise in nurturing empathy and compassion, but we must tread carefully when writing beyond our lived experiences to avoid mis/appropriation of another person’s perspective. There is much to consider with #ownvoices writing here.
Our Poem
In the following poem, each stanza is written by a different member of the group!
LGBTQ+ Pride Flag
By Noah Estes, Sarah Leger, and Garin Dudley
Sitting on the classroom wall,
I feel student’s shifting eyes
Of those who haven’t seen
How broad that true love can really be.
Searching space for that one spark
Until I see it.
Those eyes that are just as proud as mine
One in the room whose day, week, life has been impacted.
Someone that experiences the same emotions.
Someone proud and fierce in their beliefs.
Someone unapologetically and fiercely driven by their love.
Just true to their identity.
LGBTQ+ Poets to Celebrate
We are so grateful for the LGBTQ+ poets and poetry, verse refusing to be silenced. Enjoy the rich humanity of love and being:
“Langston Blues” by Jericho Brown
“Where Is She ::: Koté Li Yé” by R. Erica Doyle
“Things Haunt” by Joshua Jennifer Espinoza
“Self-Portrait as Exit Wounds” by Ocean Vuong
“Breathe. As in. (shadow)” by Rosamond S. King
“syntax” by Maureen N. McLane
“The Talking Back of Miss Valentine Jones: Poem # one” by June Jordan
And amazing spoken word by queer poets!
Please share your favorite LGBTQ+ poet and poems!
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
To the ONLY black girl in an area:
I know what it’s like to feel like an outcast
as if you don’t belong in the world we know and love
being looked at as if you are not welcomed
Black girl, you are meant to be there
show your worth without any spite
being black in this America is only right
Manifest your black and represent your culture
it’s okay to be you in this world we nurture
be bold, be brave, and go beyond expectations
Your black is divine as wine
you were born to shine
live your life without fear
You got this BLACK girl!
I put pen to paper and reflected on a comment made by a student this week: “I use the gender neutral bathroom so I don’t get hate crimed ✌️ ” I had no idea how to respond, so this poem helped me start the process of reflecting. Thanks for this opportunity.
To Her:
I don’t know what
it’s like to be hate
crimed in a bathroom
I don’t know what
it’s like to transition
to be who I was
meant to be
I do know I love you,
and you are safe with
me. I practice writing your
pronouns and name
so you can freely be.
I do know your voice is valid
and you deserve this space.
This classroom is yours with
poetry’s sweet embrace.
Rachelle,
Wow!! Today I helped a student find the gender natural bathroom and they thanked. Saying they felt safer here than middle school where they didn’t have that option. Tears were brought to my eyes, trying to fathom that kind of fear.
Rachelle,
It is so true that we are all learning the things that others are having to endure to be themselves. Thank you for taking the time to practice a student’s preferred name–so many don’t and I can only imagine how that feels. Your assurance of a safe space is lovely and less common than it should be. I really like your poem.
Thank you, Rachelle, for scrolling for my poem today, and for writing this one. I’m so glad I came back and found your late entry. “Hate crimed in a bathroom” is such a horrid phrase. I like how your perspective poem doesn’t assume anything about how the other is feeling…Two stanzas of “I don’t know…” but then two of “I do know…” and the important things you do know are beautiful.
Rachelle, this is beautiful. I love how you go from acknowledging what you don’t know to action (writing the pronouns and name) to what you do know: humanity’s basics. Bravo.
Good morning Rachelle,
Sorry to have missed your poem last night before I crashed. I am grateful you are this scholar’s teacher, proving a
I have a feeling you will always be a safe haven for this scholar and you’ll always be remembered. I also appreciate the honesty in your questioning because the root of mistreatment, misunderstanding, and hate is lack of knowledge.
Big hugs to you and stay strong, we don’t have much longer to go!
❤️
Rachelle,
Your poem touched me! I can feel the love and support that you are giving and it’s so warm felt. what you said “I do know your voice is valid” made me realize that voices deserve to be heard in every setting.
It’s Friday night after the longest and maybe the most physically and emotionally demanding week since March 2020. I wanted so desperately to spend loving time with my poem because it spoke to me early this morning. Here I am cranking out the bits and pieces I can muster until another day when I can give it the love it deserves. This poem speaks for secrets, the ones that need to be kept silent.
Shhhhh………
In the safety
Of soft places
They crawl
They hide in
Smiling masks
And blatant lies
Sometimes spilling
From slippery tongues
Into devouring ears
Most of all
They awaken and disrupt
at 3 and 4 a.m.
Planning all the ways
They will take root
And grow like mold
©Stacey L. Joy, April 23, 2021
Stacey, your poem is chilling and riveting. It feels like these secrets are dangerous and toxic. I am particularly perturbed by the way the lies slip into “devouring ears” which sounds like social media or politics. I am particularly taken by the last stanza where
Seems like you have one helluva poem, but I’d love to see it again if you continue to revise. I hope next week is a bit easier than this week. Love your poem! Thank you!
Oooh! Stacey this poem so eloquently describes the nasty things that secrets do. The antics of secrets make my skin crawl as they spill from slippery tongues. You really captured the things that spilled secrets can do. Sadly, when left unsaid, they do fester and grow and disrupt. Good job!
Stacey, this is great. Thank you for taking time to share the power of secrets in your poem. Lots of powerful images here! Mostly I want to say peace and rest to you this weekend. I’m so sorry for such a demanding week, and I’m glad you are in the fourth quarter so you can be done soon. God bless you and all the faculty, staff and students in LAUD.
Stacey, thank you for this piece. I feel it’s hushed tone but also insidious. The imagery is important and powerful in this piece. Thanks for writing it! I’m also wore out, and I’m proud of both of us for writing poems nevertheless
Stacey,
I love the mysteriousness of your poem. It brings both chill and excitement the more you read. The poem left me searching and hungry for more in the hopes of finding out what you are describing. I enjoyed your poem
Garin, Sarah, and Noah,
I cannot thank you enough for this wonderful prompt and slew of poems! I had not read Sandburg’s “Grass” before: wow. I also appreciate the rich list of LGBTQ+ poets you provided. I read several and will save and return to your collection.
I chose to write from the perspective of a book on my classroom shelves.
I Am Love
I am the book
the librarian
skimmed past
and rejected
as problematic.
But I was chosen
by an English teacher
for their classroom.
I sit silently on
a crowded wall.
The stars must align
if the right
soft hand
will turn me fro
and to,
then
crack the cover.
I ache, awaiting
recognition
as gentle fingers
turn a page
and then a page
and again a page.
Until yes
we’ve reached
p. 43
A moment of truth:
yes
I am
yes
a love
yes
story.
Are you,
dear reader,
ready to
contemplate
Love?
For love
is love
is love.
Allison, the book speaking here is perfectly engaging. I can’t help but wonder what is on p. 43. Your use of repetition works effectively like an echo inviting the reader to embrace the love the book has to offer. I so appreciate how the English teacher has taken the book into their room, knowing that it has been rejected by the librarian but will perhaps land into the exactly right hands. Someone who needs a place they can also feel loved and accepted. Loved the allusion “The stars must align”. What a beautiful, lovely and tender poem!
Allison,
Wonderful poem. I like the idea of the English teacher taking a book the librarian rejects. Teachers seem to know the right book for their student. I want to know what caught the readers eye on page 43.
Allison, beautiful perspective poem today about this “problematic” book. I have had some of those on my shelves over the years! Those “problems” in a safe place to explore hold a special place in our libraries.
I love the images of “soft hands” and “gentle fingers” in your poem.
I love that sense of discovery — I feel like I’m reading this book and, at the same time, rooting for the reader. Love is love is love. It reminds me of the first love story I read that had gay characters in it. Thanks for this poem
That’s what I was aiming for, Rachelle. Thanks, friend.
Thank you for this important prompt. My 14 year old daughter came out two years ago to my husband and me and her two siblings. We haven’t told her grandfather (my father yet). She tell me she isn’t ready yet. This poem is told from my daughter’s perspective whom I love with all my heart.
I am waiting
for the right time
to tell you my heart
From the very start
I know this part
will give you pause
create space between
cause you to see me
differently
But
see and believe
there is nothing
wrong with me
I’m still the girl who
draws and constructs
still the girls who reads books
who makes you guffaw
because “Damn! I’m funny!”
I’m still the granddaughter who
bakes you cookies
gives you long hugs,
calls you, Poppi
Hear my voice
who I am is my biology
not a choice
I am waiting
for you to see and believe
I am not broken
you don’t need to fix me
just keep loving me
just keep loving me
What a beautiful poem. Your final stanza brings it all together:
I am not broken
you don’t need to fix me
just keep loving me
Bravo.
Oh, Tammi, what a wonderful loving poem. I am truly moved by your straightforward words and loving tone. The ending just makes my heart ache. “I am not broken” is a perfect line and truth. Your poem is absolutely amazing. Thank you for sharing your daughter’s story!
Oh, the sweet attributes of your daughter:
Of course she is, and that is so clearly articulated in your poem. Beautiful, Tammi!
Tammi,
This is such an authentic expression of what too many kids experience. They don’t know how someone will react, so they push down their real feelings to save themselves from hurt. Hugs to your daughter–it will get easier and people will learn. Thank you for sharing.
Shhhh…
Do you hear it?
Can you see it?
Don’t you want to speak?
Six sets of legs kicking down,
You watch but ignore.
The pulse that lies there
muted,
unheard,
Where is the humanity?
Bring that boy dignity!
Be his voice, which cannot speak,
his legs to stand fortified by your strength,
he needs your unseen wisdom that can
endure,
save,
love.
Linda — I ask the same question, “Where is the humanity?” Those who lost their lives deserved so much better. These lines: “Be his voice, which cannot speak…” powerful!
Linda, I am moved by the force of your poem even though I cannot place the allusion. Is there a specific incident you are referencing? I read this as a universal–the story of bystanders allowing oppression. I loved the sequence in the final three lines.
Linda, those six sets of legs kicking the boy is so painful and visible in your words. This is a mighty call to action, empathy, saving and loving.
Thank you for this prompt. I don’t presume to speak for anyone but myself. Here I am channeling the voice of the student (any student) in my classroom for whom I did not do enough. The speaker’s words are directed at me.
I will no longer raise my hand.
Music has a more pleasing sound than your answers.
You mean well, you do.
You certainly shut down that kid who bleated, “Soccer is so gay.”
I don’t give a damn about Shakespeare’s stupid sonnets.
Or what a tempest is or for that matter.
What I want is for you to throw the book at homophobia.
Give him Langston Hughes and Lorraine Hansberry.
Give him Emily Dickinson and Virginia Woolf
And, for God’s sake, James Baldwin.
Then I will raise my hand.
Katrina — Wow! I agree we need to see diversity in the curriculum. This is the exact conversation I just had with members of my school diversity committee. I was pleading for curriculum that represents all our students.
Katrina, this is stunning. I love the peeling back of self you did to see (and voice) the student in your room. (I also loved the nod to Sonnet 130 with “Music has a more pleasing sound…”)
For God’s sake, James Baldwin.
Thank you for this gift of a poem.
Katrina, even though we can’t speak for anyone else, you have done a great job of speaking for any child in your classroom (or another teacher’s). What a great line:
For perspective, I have been the GSA advisor at my school for the last 10 years.
Voices
Some years there are many,
some there are few,
but every year I am there,
waiting,
welcoming,
listening,
being a presence,
for the searching,
the wondering,
the curious,
the confused,
the sure,
and the defiant.
In my room,
their voices can speak out,
they can cite the injustices
in a school with so many voices,
and authorities who may not
be comfortable in their own skins.
We talk of
representation,
identification,
acceptance,
turbulence,
hard conversations,
how to make changes,
and what is going well.
With voices of many timbres,
some still changing
to find their register,
there is sometimes a cacophony
that rings out.
Remember that there are
few places that are safe
to speak from the heart.
Remember that not
everyone has the same
perspective.
Remember that there is
not one right way to be.
Be true.
Be human.
Be love.
Cara,
I love this. I love that you give them a place to share their voice. Beautiful poem my friend.
Cara,
Your sponsorship of the GSA is so important, but you know that. Every word here is truth, but the thing that upsets me most in schools is what you touch on in these words:
All students should be comfortable enough to speak their truths and be heard. I hope one day students no longer need the safety of a GSA to do that. Until then I know they’re grateful for teachers like you who give them space to speak.
Cara — These lines –” Remember that there is/not one right way to be./Be true./Be human./Be love.” Wow! These lines brought tears to my eyes. Just beautiful. This is truly what our students need to hear and know.
Oh wow, Cara.
Thank you for this gift of a poem.
I loved this line: “and authorities who may not
be comfortable in their own skins”
This passage also struck me as especially true:
“With voices of many timbres,
some still changing
to find their register.”
One’s voice is so personal, yet so potentially traitorous when it conflicts with identity. “Finding the register” is brilliant as it can be read on multiple levels.
Loved this.
Cara, nice poem about the safety of the GSA for your school children. These words are a perfect ending:
This reminder is saddening but the truth, “Remember that there are
few places that are safe
to speak from the heart.” A safe space is truly valuable, especially to our most silenced or nervous students. Thanks for being the GSA sponsor for our school and creating that space for our students
Thank you Garin, Sarah, and Noah for your prompt, your mentor poem, and the many links you shared with us today! You introduced me to some cool, “new” poets. (New to me that is. Not new to the profession. Lol.)
_____________________________________
We are friends,
we are family,
we are the
most sociable,
most gregarious,
of your office
supplies, which
is why we,
of course,
often clump
together when
you pull us
out of the box.
We come in
many different
sizes, shapes,
and colors.
We are not
pencils or
rubber bands,
highlighters
or markers.
We have whimsy,
are in fact,
whimsical.
Now, it’s true
that one of us
has been
traded for a
house (Thank
you for coming
to my TED
Talk) and we
were even used,
in Oslo, as a
symbol of unity
and pride and
resistance
against the Nazi
regime in World
War II,
it is in our
very nature to
bring things
together, to
hold things
together, but
to be honest,
we are way
more fun than
those straight
laced staples,
waiting in their
steely
institutionalized
rows.
If you take one
of us, fold out
its limbs, unwind
its core into
an approximation
of a “right” triangle,
you can place the
tip on a flat surface
and let gravity
do the rest,
and if you listen
closely, you can
hear the quietest
Wheeee! as it
springs through
the air.
Now, can a staple
do that?
The voice in this poem — just love it!
These lines —
“to be honest,
we are way
more fun than
those straight
laced staples,
waiting in their
steely
institutionalized
rows” — made me laugh out loud!
Paperclips? Or did I settle on that too early and fail to miss the other clues?
I love the joy you bring to your poems. Line after line springs with joie de vivre.
Thank you, Allison! ? (Yep, paperclips. The other day I was pulling one out of the container on my desk and, of course, a whole chain came out, and I was like, why do they do that? And then today’s prompt led me back to that image, which led me to the internet (trying to decide if I should call them office supplies or…?) and that led me to their origin story which was rather serendipitous…Oh, and then I spent a good 30 minutes playing with bent paperclips, seeing how high I could get them to fly around my office…sorry, this might have been too much information. Lol.)
Oh, the joy of being a paperclip! All these images and ideas have had me doing research on paperclips and seeing the red paperclip that was traded for a house. I even tired making a right angle with the paperclip and gravity did do its thing, but I heard the Wheeeee! Priceless perspective, and yes, such a better way than the
of staples.
Hey, Youngbloods!
Great poetry prompt to force us to step outside ourselves (although I could’ve gone further – oh well).
How about Audre Lorde’s “Love Poem.”
Bed I Am
Bed I am
no bedlam
Avenue of sleep
and orderly dreams
I am queen
with sleek wooden headboard
My mattress tempur-pedic
her idea
A far cry
from the thin mattress
Little more than a pallet
on the floor of their first love
He rests on my right side now
challenging my balance
Yet that other weight
is still felt
Beautiful…love the story woven with the theme tight til the end. That other weight…gosh, something we all miss at times. Beautiful poem.
Linda,
Good suggestion. I wasn’t satisfied with the ending. I’m liking better “Yet that other weight / is missed / still felt”
//d
I love the rhythm of this poem and these lines especially: “He rests on my right side now/challenging my balance/yet that other weight/is still felt”
David, This is everything I wish my poems could do. You somehow blend humor and word play with deepest feeling, while line after line rolls on the tongue, the ear. The end killed me.
Softly spoken
Innervoices
Longing to be
Enough
iN their own skin
Today, tomorrow, always
DeAnna,
I like how the acrostic word of silent adds just enough context to figure out your intention. Nice!
I just want to type, amen. Let this be true.
DeAnna — “Longing to be/ Enough/In their own skin” — beautiful. The acrostic is just perfect here.
Wow! This is the poem I wish I had written today. I love the ending — today, tomorrow, always. Thanks for sharing this important reminder with us today
Yesssss!!!????????
Deanna,
This poem speaks volumes and I love how you put this together. I feel as if your poem embraces the essence of all and it shows how we feel but also states what’s never really talked about, which is self-love and being loved.
Garin, Sarah, and Noah, thank you so much for the links, the prompt, and for sharing your incredible poem. I have some beautiful hybrid lilies that can struggle to grow when they are crowded out by other plants. They are so lovely but different and that is why I chose them for this poem. I think I will try to create a concrete poem with these words.
Hate, a toxic weed,
strangles the lovely lilies
fragile blooms straining
to open their unique petals
orange-red
yellow-blue
violet-green
indigo-hued
silently pleading,
extract this poison
let us breathe
as freely as the butterfly garden
brimming with milkweed;
buzzing with bees—
a chorus of pleas
desiring solace;
a safe haven to
cultivate bouquets of Peace
Barb Edler
23 April 2021
I do like the journey of this poem into peace. Beautiful.
Hate transitioning into peace is beautiful here in your poem. The butterfly garden analogy is perfect. I love the rhyming you did, especially here in this rainbow section:
Barb, this poem is love, life, and a beautiful prayer for peace!
Why don’t you let me out?
You know where I am,
What I’m meant to do
Yet, you bluster about the kitchen
Avoiding me
It seems like you’d do anything,
Even clean the toilets
Rather than deal with me
But don’t worry
I’m not easily offended
Just come over here
We can talk about this
I’ll do all the talking if that’s easier for you
You know what to do
Come on
Pick up the pen
That’s it—
Now write
I’ll be the last word!
Ha! How did you know what MY notebook says?! Have you been spying on me?!
Mo, a great perspective for my notebook too! That was a great topic to choose today. I should write this poem and explore why my notebook sits silent so many days or too often holds to do lists. I like how you didn’t give a hint as to who was talking until the end.
Hi, and thanks for the prompt. When I gave it some thought, I wrote this poem about growing up.
His dad took a job out of state
Just when he was finding his way
In the city that he loved
With the friends that he
Had made in the fourth grade
He only had a half of summer to
Listen to music
And walk to the convenient store
To get some Wild Cherry Pepsi
and a bag of Chili Cheese Fritos
and play hacky sack
in the school parking lot
he knew that he wanted to stay
he knew he had no say
and that he would start
a new high school
with new kids
in a new city
up north
they would laugh
at his twang
so it was just easier
to stay silent
even when he wanted to
scream
weekends were spent
locked away
in the basement
decorated with strings of lights
and posters of guitar gods
and the silence was flooded
with sounds of angst
and rebellion
and the calling out
for a friend
Eric, excellent perspective on what moving can feel like for a kid, especially
You describe the pain, the lack of agency, so well:
I am so glad those days are long behind me!
Thank you. Eric. I love this poem! The lines here:
followed by this:
Offer an echo, flourish of resonance for the music that seems like it was at once a balm and activism.
Peace,
Sarah
Eric, wow, this is an incredibly powerful poem. I can see this young man, silenced because of his difference. The images throughout share a normal teen’s life who should have every reason to enjoy life. Heartbreaking! The ending lines truly pack a punch. I thought these lines were striking
Outstanding poem!
Hi Garin, Sarah, and Noah,
I’m eager to write with you all today. Thank God it’s Friday! What a week it has been. However, taking time today on your prompt is sure to be food for my soul.
This captivated my heart:
If only our world would learn to find and embrace “true love” in all its beautiful and “broad” ways!
?️???️???️??
This is what I came up with today, hopefully it’s not too gross of an image lol!
I am the toilet,
I stand witness
to those in discomfort
straining from loads
seen and unseen.
I am the toilet,
I stand sentinel
to those in distress
absorbing unearthly groans
and gut-churning sights.
I am the toilet,
I stand anchored in a stall
for those seeking refuge
no one to watch them cry
but me.
If I’ve learned one thing in all my years
of being me, it’s that
being human is hard.
So I will give you grace
hold you up
swallow your refuse
so you can walk out
stronger.
Okay, it was a little gross, lol! No, not really. It’s quite poignant when you think of the toilet legislation that is going on right now … imagine, really, as you say, the toilet thinking
Beautiful, Rachel!
Rachel,
I think you found a thread in today’s prompt welcoming the voice of an often marginalized feature of our homes and institutions that, frankly, needs more love:
Sarah
Rachel, I love how you bring the toilet to life in this poem. I had to chuckle with the word choice throughout, but truly, you show what a gift a toilet is in our lives. Loved it!
Oh Rachel. Nothing is too gross for poetry. What is more human than our excrement? Please print off a copy and post it somewhere in your bathroom. Although you don’t fall back on the cliched metaphor of the toilet as throne, you do us one better by alluding to that with
//david
Rachel, this is a perspective I never would have thought to take, but it is so well executed here! I just love the lines at the end saying “so you can walk out stronger.” This is inspired.
Rachel,
I giggled until the end when I read that lovely last verse about the care the porcelain throne gives us. I think kids need to see your poem and learn from it how poetry can be about anything. I love and appreciate the unique approach you took in your poem. Bravo!
Gross but great. Commendable and complimentary to us that you think you can write like this in this group well, you can, because we encourage truth telling. You’ve done it. So you get a smiling emoji today. ?
Garin, Noah, and Sarah, thank you for honoring this day of silence! I thoroughly enjoyed the LGBTQ+ poems you shared – thank you for these fabulous links.
Dupont Circle 1984
we walked in silence
down the tight curving metal steps
into this hidden cellar of a bar
anonymous discreet invisible
pushed past
the heavy door
into pulsating music, beer and booze,
tight jeans, muscled bodies,
voices low, laughing, lingering
so many men, coupled, close, comfortable,
dark, intimate freedom
unexpectedly
he clutched my hand
yes – reached and grabbed
wove his fingers within every one of mine
locked together, needing reassurance
I squeezed back and held on
just moments before
we had sat coupled in the bright sun
at the cafe across the street
sipping beer for fortification
hatching the plan
my dear strong friend
he wanted to live out
he wanted to venture out
he wanted to meet out
he wanted whole
there was this gay bar downtown
please come with me, just this once,
we’ll pretend we’re tourists
accidentally wandering in
would you please come with me?
he clutched my hand
we walked between the bar and tables
the length of the long narrow room, then turned
and walked back through guys, guys, guys
back through the heavy door
into the bright sunshine
where he gasped
he hadn’t anticipated the fear,
the rush, the sheer giddy madness of being
welcomed as is
He went back by himself that Friday.
Maureen,
Reading this gorgeous poem of friendship I’m transported to another place and time, my first experience in a gay bar w/ friends. I live the argument inherent in your poem that we can walk beside LGBTQ+ friends holding hands as they find supporting communities among other LGBTQ+ individuals. I love the repetition of “he wanted” and the common desires we all share.
Maureen,
Wonderful poem. So many friends have been there to support a friend as they enter the gay bar the first time. Getting a feel for a place they will soon feel safe enough to come back to alone.
Maureen, he needed assurance and you gave him the freedom and courage to be who he is!
Love this poem, Maureen. And love this “the rush, the sheer giddy madness of being” that is the privilege of cisgender, straight individuals. That “giddy madness” should not be reserved for one more than other. Love your allyship here!
Sarah
Maureen, your narrative is so compelling. I can feel the giddiness, of your fried, and his joy of finally being in a place where he is accepted and not silenced. Your ending brought a smile to my face. Love this poem! Thank you!
Wow! I love this more than I can express! These 3 lines are life!
Wow, Maureen, what an experience you had with your friend. I’m glad this prompt let this story be told today. You have tried to explain from his perspective and we can learn:
Maureen, loved this!! Reminded me of my own bestie’s coming out when we were young and him asking me to accompany him, so it truly gave me the feels. A beautiful narrative poem, and vivid imagery that enhanced the dramatic feel of the telling.
Bryan, this reads like a prayer and a song. Beautiful.
Garin, Sarah, and Noah,
As a teacher approaching retirement, I sure feel hope knowing that our tender profession is in hands such as the three of you! You are clearly in tune and empathetic, and you know how to structure learning activities to generate ideas and output. I love your poem especially
My mind is spinning with ideas as I’m helping my students navigate day four of state standardized testing but this is what I am submitting. I know that I will revisit your inspiration many times and I’ve shared with multiple students already!
Comfortable in Our Skin
Don’t we all want to wear our own skin
when we walk out and when we walk in
Don’t we all want to be who we are
when we are close and when we are far
Don’t we all want to live how we choose
whether we win or whether we lose
Don’t we all hope to avoid wearing the mask
whether relaxing at home or out doing a task
Don’t we all want to love who we love
with assurances of blessings of Those from Above
Don’t we all want to pursue things that ignite a spark
with our actions deciding how we will leave our own mark
Don’t we all want to be who we’ve been born to be
without feeling division, just unity
Don’t we all want to give in ways we will decide
without guilt and pressure from the other side
When, whether, with, without
Our lives are our lives without a doubt
~Susan Ahlbrand
23 April 2021
Your poem today resonates with unity and ALL of us being human. It is good to remember that today and every day throughout all the diversity. Mostly to remember we are human as we wear our own skin.
Susan,
When you said, “When, whether, with, without/ Our lives are our lives without a doubt,” I felt an overwhelming amount of emotion. That closing was such a strong and effective way to end the poem.
Thank you for your writing!
Wow, Susan, for a poem you described as something you will revisit – I see no need! It’s amazing! Love the way you think through all the w words, ending with the resounding
Susan! Love it.
The freedom to choose, to move without fear. Yes! Should not be a privilege. (Thinking of the picture at the beginning of the school year and Redwood and Ponytail!)
Sarah
“Walking through life”
MY
Voice
is
ethereal
it’s
nOt
owned
MY
humanity
is
valId
MY
in
ter
seC
tions
r
layered
with
lovE
passion
dignity
i
don’t
need
your
assent
Stefani, beautiful form that did a great job of carrying me through this piece. Love, too, the embedded message that complements it and the repeated and capitalized “MY”s throughout, amplified by the last five lines. Powerful.
Stefani,
Preach. I had a similar thought this morning. I love the physical presence of your poem standing tall and erect over the world. Bravo.
Skinny and strong, powerful advocacy for voice! I absolutely love the way this reads:
So cool, Stefani. Love your use of text and white space to move our eyes down but focus in, zoom into the bold and capitals. The word — dignity — is everything.
Sarah
I am trying a triolet today. Eight lines but more of an amplified couplet with an echoing, a resonance flourishing.
Ascending Bows
Yes, my dear friend, there’s space for you;
Light finds water, then slows and bends;
From beads, I cast your perfect hue.
Yes, my dear friend, there’s space for you;
Wavelengths glow a perfect hoop;
Rise above and see my bow ascend.
Yes, my dear friend, there’s space for you;
It’s especially sweet when dual arcs extend.
Sarah, I love this form: thanks for introducing me to it. Love the beauty of the language in the poem…and love the message!
Sarah, I am not familiar with the triolet form. My favorite lines are your first two, the welcoming tone immediately draws an emotion of comfort, then the imagery of light slowing and bending takes us to that space. Thank you for sharing.
Sarah,
This is a gorgeous poem. The image of dual arcs ascending forms a rainbow in my mind. I love the repeating line. Sometimes we need to hear and speak the message often. I don’t think I’ve written a triolet before so will need to try that form.
Thanks, Glenda. The poem is the POV of a ? which I learned is a actually a complete circle.
Dr. Donovan,
I noticed your use of the anaphora technique, “Yes, my dear friend, there’s space for you,” and that line is such a powerful phrase, so it was extra effective. I mostly enjoyed the repetition of that line, because it is so broad and recognizes the differences of all individuals.
I really enjoyed your response to the prompt!
Sarah,
Beautiful poem, I love your refrain
Such a wonderful meaning.
A triolet is a new to me – I am excited to look into them and see if they are all as gorgeous as this! The repetition of “Yes, my dear friend, there’s space for you;” – I even love the semi-colon at the end, which, to my ear, makes the meaning of the phrase so ‘absolute’, insists on the equality of all. Thank you for this treasure of a poem, Sarah!
Sarah, what a lovely and graceful poem, full of light, love and beauty! Simply adore the rainbow imagery and the line:
Kudos!
Sarah, totally in love with your poem! I wonder if the other half of a rainbow feels like those who never find safe spaces to be?? Or is the other half somewhere else shining and safe?
Beautiful! And who doesn’t love a double rainbow!! ??
I need to try a triolet. I love its flow and repetition!
I am part of Mrs. Simon’s GT class, have an awesome day and hope you enjoy my poem!
LUV.
A reminder of her
Is her tasty lips
That taste like a
Chocolate cupcake
With black tie dye
Leaving a Mark
Her hips
They sway left to right
Calling my name
Her eyes
Heaven sent
As I itch to count the freckles on her face
To her, I am such a freaky disgrace.
What stunning specific details! I’m impressed. I love the YOU are writing poetry. We need more of that voice, kid. Write kiddo, write!
Kaia, Your words in the line, ” As I itch to count the freckles on her face, ” bring out such intimacy. Thank you for sharing today.
Thank you for sharing your poetry with us. There are so many evocative moments in this work. Your final kind stands out to me. Everything is so fluid and gentle, abruptly halted by the word “freaky” which has such a distinct consonance. Beautiful.
Kaia,
I love the striking imagery and detail of your poem, the erotic charge. When I just posted, I called out Audre Lorde’s “Love Poem,” which your piece reminds me of. She was a poet who, among many other things, celebrated the body and reveled in its passions.
//david
You are a beautiful soul! Your poem brings your heart and one day she who’s meant to love you will let you count her freckles! I love this!
?
Thanks for all the amazing mentor texts. I’ve been reading Ghost Boys by Jewel Parker Rhodes and have dead black boys on my mind.
Duante
It was dark
dark
dark
Figures in shadows
come
come
come
This depth is heavy
heavy
heavy
Help him climb from the hole.
Help us say his name.
Help justice erase scars.
Leave instead
tattoos of peace
peace
peace.
I love the substitution offered at the end. Yes. Peace, instead.
Margaret, your repetition here is very powerful. I want to subtitle your poem: does justice erase scars? Also, I like the juxtaposition of erasing scars and tattoos of peace. Thank you for this today.
Margaret,
The echos in your poem remind me of how the senseless killing of black bodies repeat and repeat and repeat.
Ghost Boys came out in 2018. How many ghosts have joined them since then? Too many!
Yes. Jewel Parker Rhodes gave me her copy of the ARC, which she signed, after running out of copies at NCTE prior to the book’s release. It had a sticker on the front instead of the red cover. I loaned the book to a student who loved it so much that I let her keep it. I didn’t have the heart to take it back.
Margaret, this was so haunting and sad…yet that twist at the end…and your introduction to it was so jarring. I haven’t read this book. But it’s on my list now.
Margaret,
This poem is powerful in its simplicity. The heart beat or drum beat or steady tread of marching feet. Like some Langston Hughes poem. The hopefulness of scars healing into tattoos of peace – very cool.
//david
A chillingly beautiful, sad, hopeful poem! Praying for Daunte and all the others whose names and lives we can’t forget!
?
The Carl Sandberg poem set off my thinking. This is the perspective of another group that we tend to ignore but has been getting more attention lately. Yesterday, I helped deliver bags of food to the asylums sheltered in our nearby hotel rooms just as there came a flood of new arrivals. What a journey!
Asylum Seekers
Shove them in busses or planes
a new destination
Crowd them in
“Where are we going?”
“Where am I now?”
Dry them off any way you can
They come from the river
wet and muddy
gasping for breath
“I’m chilled and cold!”
Wash them off any way you can
They come from the fields
over the fences
dusty
aching muscles
“I need a rest.”
“Have I crossed the border, yet?”
Put them in detention
Cram them into crate-like cells
“Another wait?”
“How long restrained?”
It won’t be much longer
hold them for a year
“When can I tell my story?
“When can I ask for permission?”
But there’s still more
Give them shelter
Lug them to hotel rooms
Leave them
“How much longer?”
“Who can help me?”
Leave them clothes for all sizes
Shampoo, a comb, underwear,
Breakfast, lunch and dinner
“Is there milk for my baby?”
“Does anyone speak Portuguese?”
Test them for COVID
Make them wait some more
“I can’t leave my room?”
“When can I go?”
Call out, “It’s time!”
To open the doors
Let them go to tell their stories
“Who is my sponsor?”
“When is my appointment?”
“My sister is coming?”
Open your arms of
safety and freedom
Give them support
Show them the way
“Gracias, Merci, Obregada”
Oh, the stories….I can only imagine.
Susan,
Your poem takes us on a heart-wrenching journey. I’m so ashamed of our country’s treatment of asylum seekers. Maybe you’ve shared this information before, but could you share a link to the organization you’re serving? I’d like to make a donation. Thank you for your unwavering service. Hugs and peace.
Glenda, thank you so very much! I am working with Jewish Family Services in San Diego. Their website is JFSSD.org. That will give you a general website to donate. You can see all the needs for helping with asylum seekers at JFSSD.galaxydigital.com
So much is needed! Thanks!
Well, Garin, Noah, and Sarah, you three are really making me think about things I’ve put off thinking about! But, I’m glad to have the opportunity to see that I can learn from those planning to enter the profession! Keep asking tough questions and providing “safe spaces” for students to answer. We’re glad you’re here and look forward to your joining us on this professional journey of teaching. Okay, I’ve delayed enough. 🙂
Quandaries
When you’re taught
Homosexuality is a sin
And silence is consent,
What do you do?
When you’re taught
In Sunday School
To live by the Golden Rule,
What do you do?
Your male cousin makes a woman his bride
Perhaps for his gayness to hide
And, then, he commits suicide.
What do you do?
When your Uncle tells his wife
“I can no longer live this life!
I’m moving upstairs with my husband
To be near, in my children’s life.”
What can she say?
She’s been taught the same way.
When another cousin moves across the street
And his husband you later meet
Turns out to be your best friend
From sixth grade in elementary school.
Whew! Glad to have learned the Golden Rule!
Good morning, Anna. These stanzas tell the story faced by many of us. I once had a very close friend and co-worker who finally told me she was gay and introduced me to her partner. For some reason, after that, she never contacted me again and ignored my calls. I never knew what happened. I wondered if her partner was jealous. Who knows.
Anna,
I faced this same quandary when I was in college and as I began teaching. So many of us were taught what you, too, were taught, but as your poem shows, when we know a gay person up close and personal, we are forced to re-examine those teachings and really follow the golden rule.
Anna,
Your poem hit close to home and really resonated with me. My uncle and aunt got a divorce after many years of marriage and four children so he could come out. They are both happily remarried to other men and still best friends.
I too learned the Golden Rule, but I am glad my uncle feels safe to be his true self.
Anna, wow, your poem is incredibly moving. Love, love, love the questions here. I am especially heartbroken when one commits suicide because they are not accepted- it’s an incredible and devastating tragedy, and it happens all of the time! I was particularly moved by the opening line: “And silence is consent,”. I know this so well. I’m angry I was not taught to just say NO! Truly magnificent poem! Your craft is such a beautiful gift!
Anna, I’ve had to face ideas I was taught as well. I take great comfort in the idea of “when we know better, we do better.” It’s OK to grow. It’s OK to do your best. I love that you include the Golden Rule in your poem because that covers so much.
Anna, I love the journey this poem took me on! I feel the impact of that last line “Glad to have learned the Golden Rule!”
Anna, you have shared what so many don’t speak! Questioning the Golden Rules! Love it! What else must we do?
In 2012 Leslea Newman published October Mourning: A Song for Matthew Shepard, a novel in verse in which the perspective is from the point of view of objects and animals that witnessed the brutal 1998 beating of Matthew Shepard outside Laramie, Wyoming. This collection has long been a favorite of mine. Today it offered a way into this prompt.
minneapolis road
no one asked how
i felt in my forced complicity
i was not called to bear
witness from my
vantage point
looking up
feeling his black body
pressed to my
surface where
concrete and asphalt
lie side by side
in an unholy marriage
of convenience
now this patch
of road i am
carries the weight
of nine minutes &
twenty-nine seconds
pressing an eternity of
injustices into my
elongated spine
running through
this heartland where
a sign commemorates
my roll in stealing
another black body
—Glenda Funk
Ohh Glenda. This packs a powerful punch. I felt it in my gut.
It hits me hard. I think, “How sickening.”
Wow. “carries the weight
of nine minutes &
twenty-nine seconds
pressing an eternity of
injustices into my
elongated spine”
Wow. This poem takes me right there…the tragedy and injustice that stain on the road.
Glenda,
How impossible must it be to capture such a moment into such a short poem, but a task you did excellently. The utter horror and disgust from the road is viscerally felt.
Oh my, Glenda, thank you for this powerful poem. I am drawn to these lines especially,
how beautiful to capture the looking up; we all need to look, look up. Oh, what a horror you have captured!
Glenda, your poem is gripping. The horror is riveting. The perspective especially thought-provoking. Your final lines echo like a death toll
I ached while reading your poem. You demonstrate the power of poetry and the power of words. AMAZING!
Whew. Thank you. Leaves me speechless, wordless. ?
Glenda, really beautiful poem about the the part the road played in the death of George Floyd. I had not heard of the book about Matthew Shepard before today. Thank you for sharing it; I’m off to buy that novel in verse now.
and
show the power of humans in the harm done in this world. The road though hard and dangerous had nothing really to do with this death, and your poem shows that disturbing and horrifying fact.
Chloe
By Nancy White
Smart cookie
You took the train to school
A school where you wouldn’t be bullied
I had no idea how hard they tried to squash your spirit
But you came to us brand new, feisty and full of hope
You made yourself try new things, like Theatre,
though you trembled through the monologue
the whole time you spoke
I cheered you on
I taught you a bit about History and Writing
And though I could barely read your scrawl
You shined through
And I knew you knew
You outshined them all
And little did you know you were teaching me.
In Photo and Video, a superstar
Selected to travel to China and make a film
You discovered you had a gift
You found your stride at our little school
And one day you were a senior
You were absent for days
When you came back
You came out
My student I loved for so many reasons
For persistence and bravery
And the easy way we could talk and laugh
Your kind and sensitive spirit reminded me
Of my own daughter
You shared with me your favorite songs
And read me poems by Anis Mojgani
You enlightened me
And taught me
That being gay makes no difference
Though the Church had taught me otherwise
I knew in my heart I loved you before
And I loved you after I knew
And I still love you today — I celebrate
My sweet student has found her way
Now engaged to marry a like minded and beautiful soul
So much in love
And together they shine stronger
Nancy, this is so touching! I love the lines “When you came back, you came out.” That reveal still took me by surprise, even when I felt I knew where it was going. The timing of it was so perfect.
Nancy, this is a sweet tribute to Chloe. It is a nice description of how she taught you in more ways than one, and in your growing understanding:
Nancy, I love your poem for so many reasons! I’m touched by the theme of a student teaching you, rather than just you teaching her. I love all the details about Chloe that are in this poem, like how she’s “feisty and full of hope” and “I could barely read her scrawl.” I also love that you leave this poem on such a beautiful note of Chloe growing up and finding happiness in love. Thank you for sharing this with us! My heart is so full.
Love the story of this special student. So glad there is a happy ending. I’ve always thought that if you get to know a person, you would not judge them according to your inner prejudices (or religious teachings).
Nancy,
Your poem pairs beautifully w/ Anna’s. This lovely story and tribute to a brilliant student reminds me of students I love who faced so many challenges in school because of their gender. We need to celebrate and honor our LGBTQ+ students in poetry as you have. I think it would be marvelous to have a collection of poems by teachers celebrating our LGBTQ+ students.
Nancy, I love the love you share for your gay student. This is truly a beautiful narrative. All the details show her so well. Thank you for sharing her story. Truly gorgeous poem!
Nancy, this was really touching. What a great tribute.
Hi Garin, Sarah, and Noah! I love the idea and message behind this prompt! I decided to write a poem from the perspective of my high school friend’s wedding ring. He married his high school sweetheart over a year ago.
I Promise You
I promise you
With the shine of my metallic surface
With my warm side holding fast to your finger
That you
Good sir
Are a man
In love
With a woman
A woman you have loved
Since your hair was long
Since your mom didn’t know
Your name
Since you had to ask Mr. Couch
To wear a suit to the concert
Instead of a dress
And I promise you
She loves you back
I see my other half
Flickering back at me
As your other half waves goodbye
When you hop into the car
As she picks up your
Stubborn feline
And whispers joyful affirmations
Into his oblivious ears
As she reaches out
To hold your face
Different
But
The same.
Ann, beautiful perspective in your poem, and you told so much with the word choices. “Good sir” is a favorite.
is poignant and it’s where in your poem I realized what the ring was saying about him.
Love the perspective. Love the images of love. More the same than different, I think. Yet, how different the world often makes it to be.
Ann,
I love the perspective you took for this poem!
Oh, my goodness, Garin, Sarah, and Noah,
I have just been having a rich time listening to all those spoken word poems. What rich insights. Thank you for sharing so many wonderful mentors and ideas here today. Your poem from the perspective of the pride flag got me thinking. I was silent for a while this afternoon, while I read and listened. I especially enjoyed listening to Andrea Gibson. I had never heard of her before, and now I am a fan, listening to everything I can find. I chose a line from the poem Homesick: A Plea for our Planet to inspire my perspective poem today.
I then went to your form link and tried a new form. This prompt has blessed me with so many new thoughts and new perspectives. Thank you so much.
Here is the quote I used: “How do we not mold our hearts after the first spruce tree who raised her hand and begged to be cut into piano keys so the elephants could keep their tusks?” ~Andrea Gibson
I Did. Now It’s Your Turn
A Roundel
(After Andrea Gibson)
Mold yourself after me?
I am sharply dressed,
But I am just a tree.
You? You aren’t a guest.
What you’ve done is messed
Up our home, thinking you are free.
Elephant isn’t the only one stressed.
Your brain and heart hold the key.
Please stop and let us take rest.
Do it, so we can all be free.
You? You aren’t a guest.
Wow Denise! What a great poem “molded” from Andrea’s. I like the repetition of “You? You aren’t a guest” and the change of the piano keys to “hold the key”. Very creative. I forgot to look at the different forms to play with. Awesome. Thank you so much for sharing “Homesick: A Plea for our Planet” – I think I will just share that with fbook today. It has moved me and is beautiful.
I love the repetition of “You? You aren’t a guest”. It puts us in our place. If only we could earn the trees’ respect.
Denise,
You have given voice to our planet. I wish the trees could speak in ways we would hear. While in Maui we hiked the bamboo forest in Haleakala National Park, and I listened to the bamboo sing. It was such a communal moment. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about trees as family, as communities of living things since reading “The Hidden Life of Trees.” “You, you aren’t a guest” is a rallying cry and a reminder we’re temporal and far less important than Mother Earth. Gorgeous poem.
Denise – WOW! I love this! I love all the learning and discovering you did to arrive at this fabulous poem today. These lines were particularly powerful to me,
We have been so darn selfish. Love the reprimanding tone of the repeating line
Great poem!
Denise— I scrolled and scrolled to find your poem, and I’m glad I did. I really admire the way you establish the tone and voice of the tree so directly and quickly. I want to try that for one of my next poems!
I love Andrea Gibson! A student turned me on to her poetry last year!
Good morning Denise,
I’m late. So happy I came back to read a few more poems from yesterday. What a loving plea from a precious tree! Earth Day came and went but I would’ve used your poem if I had it sooner. I had never seen that video or heard of Homesick: A Plea for our Planet. Truly inspiring! Deeply moving! Thank you!! I may find a way to incorporate it into my last weeks of earth science.
?
Thank you, Stacey! That is awesome. Yes, I love her poem. It is a great Earth Day (Earth Year!) poem.
Denice Frohman’s “Dear Straight People” is one of my favorite spoken word poems: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5frn8TAlew0
Mems
you wrote me and gave me to her
she reads me sometimes
your words
when she wants to remember
how it felt to be open
and comfortable
and heard
Angie, thank you for sharing this poem. I like your poem, and I’m left wondering about who the pronouns refer to. But I have to think more this way, and I love the ending that the words help her remember:
Everyone should have such a gift.
Angie, your poem shares such emotion in a few words. I love how this flows. I adore
This poem sings! Incredible!
HI Angie, I’m late responding. Thank you for sharing that video!!!! I love it.
Your poem packs power and depth in SEVEN lines, remarkable.
Those are my favorite lines because that is what we all deserve. I’m wondering if the topic is a poem, a letter, a journal, who the pronouns are in this intriguing poem.
Lovely!!
Garin, Sarah, and Noah, I really appreciate looking at Grass in a different way (beyond the carpe diem theme often found there). Thank you for this interesting prompt. It opened up all kinds of thoughts this morning.
i
take up space,
not too much,
not too lttle,
but enough for me
(bear three)
Often ’m overlooked
gnored even
Do you
notce
when ‘m gone?
Jennifer, the absence of the i in your words I didn’t catch until the second stanza. You cleverly and clearly proved the not noticing of the missing i, and thinking about the silence – it reveals our tendency to fail to notice and not appreciate what is so vital!
Same! I didn’t notice it until gnored! AH! 🙂 What a creative poem, Jennifer! And yes so meaningful!
Jennifer, such a lovely perspective poem that makes me smle today. It’s funny how easy it is to skip that stroke when typing, so yes, we never even noticed it missing in little. When I first read your poem, I was just wondering who the i was. But it literally was i! So cute.
ah Ha! I read this twice to catch the meaning of this smart poem. Well done…yes, miss you when your gone.
Jennifer, like others, it took me a second time through to notice the missing i. So clever and poignant.
Jennifer,
You quite literally removed yourself from this poem by refraining from the letter “I”. This is so clever and something I had never even considered when helping write this prompt.
Cleverl, Jennifer. We, English teachers are so used to filling in the blanks, that most of I probably did not miss the missing letter until we to to the last line. Okay. I’ll admit. I didn’t.
A poem that is a metaphor for life. Wow!
Good Morning Writers, thank you so very much for this prompt, Garin, Sarah and Noah. With pre-service teachers such as yourself bringing the sensitivity of this prompt to our learning and writing, I can rest easier. Thank you. Your poem is beautiful and touching. So many students I wish I could protect from the perils of being proud these days. I love that your poem is written by you all and is seamless in it’s reading.
This poem has something to say
Today it remains silent
for the mother of the boy
who chose death
over the pressure of living gay
Today
Silent for a lesbian
who got a new tattoo
to cover old scars
Today
Silent for the woman
transitioning for a lifetime
Today
Silent for the fourth-grade person
with a masculine name
wearing a glittery rainbow
on a t-shirt –ponytails bobbing
Today
This poem has much love to express
for our queer family and friends
but it remains silent
Today
Linda, this speaks volumes despite the silence. I love your introductory lines before the poem, especially this sentiment: So many students I wish I could protect from the perils of being proud these days.
Your poem speaks to the rainbow of where love lives. Your heart shares your pulse of knowing, of caring, of protecting and of feeling deeply – of providing a safe haven! Thank you!
Such a beautiful poem to honor this day and all LGBTQ+ individuals. I love that you have written this from a poem’s perspective but it is still staying silent and that you have began and ended in the same way. It feels very comforting and very respectful.
Linda,
This is gorgeous. Having the poem speak of silence to honor LGBTQ+ individuals is a genius way to avoid appropriation. I love the emphasis on “Today” and “silent” through repetition.
Wow, Linda,
On this GLSEN Silence Day, your poem speaks volumes.
I love the repeated Today / Silent.
Wow! Linda! You knocked this prompt out of the ballpark. “It remains silent…today.” A powerful ending.
Linda, you’re making us weepy, especially those who taught before being gay was in and it was okay to come out!
As I think back on my years as a classroom teacher, my prayer is that whatever I said or did that may have come across as judgmental or dismissive is forgiven. I don’t recall consciously doing so, but we sometimes unintentionally harm students who are feeling unseen for who they are.
Linda,
Your poem brought tears to my eyes. So many who need to have their voices heard. Thank you for sharing Today
Linda, your poem is testament of why today is an important one. Yes, we need to express love and acceptance. Love how your poem progresses. I have had so many former students transition, and I admire their courage and strength to find their way in this world that has so many judgmental people and so much vile hate. Your opening lines remind us why we cannot shun our LGBTQ+ community. Thank you for this incredible poem!
Linda! What a lovely LOUD AND PROUD poem in its silence! ??????
Garin, Sarah, and Noah, thank you for hosting us on this National Day of Silence. The world could use more time to reflect and consider things from another perspective! Your poem is a beautiful affirmation of love.
Their World
whose view is limited –
a foot tall and
a few walls
a patch of grass
who see the world
live in the moment
more present than most
We. are. their. entire. life.
their universe
their sun
their moon
Snuggle them.
Pet them.
Feed them.
Walk them.
Love them.
Praise them.
Kim, oh to be a pet! The simplicity of this existence has great appeal (living in the present has the greatest draw). I love (and miss) this shared relationship.
Awwww. Yes! My cat is practically on my keyboard as I type this and the dog at my feet. They both would like just a tiny bit of warmth from me this morning–I think there’s been a frost. My dog-nephew, Kobe, is a rescue and I love him so much. I’m ridiculous in how much I gush over photos my sister-in-law sends me. These pets are heaven-sent for us to learn more about how to love.
Kim,
You know I’m here for the fur babies. Pets are a marvels conduit for thinking about the limits of perspective. And it really is so easy to
In so doing we get much more in return.
Kim,
This is a beautiful reminder:
We should learn from our furry pets about living in the moment and being present.