Our Host
Susan Ahlbrand has been teaching 8th grade English/language arts for 33 years in the small southern Indiana town of Jasper. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, writing, listening to music, watching sports, and spending time with her husband, their four kids, and their Goldendoodle, Hutch.
Inspiration
Snapshots. A frozen moment in time. Ones from film that we used to take with a camera and send off to be processed, often finding their way into a scrapbook or photo album. Digital ones that sit on our phones, in our camera roll, or on a social media site such as Instagram. These frozen moments in time have a whole lot of context around them. Today, we are going to find a picture and use it to inspire a poem. You could drift toward pure description of the image; you could write about the context of the still shot. You could use the image to ponder what happened before, what happened after.
Process
Find a picture. Any picture. Some places to look . . .
Open a photo album. Open your photo stream. Search the walls of your home. Resort to Google images. Go to Instagram and select the first picture you see (on your feed or from your own account). Look for details and for the backstory.
Your poem can take whatever form you would like. You could revisit some of the challenging forms we have practiced in the past. You could toy with a new one that you’ve wanted to try out. I tend to use anaphora, so I incorporated it into my typical free verse.
It would be awesome if everyone could upload the picture that they were inspired to write about.
Susan’s Verse
It Was Before
(a 1957 snapshot of my parents)
It was before
before they became they.
It was before
before they bucked the bigotry
and fused a Methodist with a devout Catholic
in a ceremony at Sacred Heart that was missing objectors
before their siblings stood by their sides.
It was before
before they moved away from home
before they left both sets of parents
to start a career and a family
in a nearby town
It was before
before ill parents brought them back
before they had four kids in seven years
two boys and two girls
filling their newly-built home
with cries and laughter and footsteps.
It was before
before disillusionment shattered their ideals
of JFK and then Bobby
before both Tab and Pop succumbed to cancer’s ire
before the stroke took down
the 33-year-old Golden Child,
drastically changing the course of the cousin dynamic.
It was before
before the faulty heart valve diagnosis
before life consisted of surgeries
and doctor’s appointments and days in bed,
before their relationship was characterized by
thirty years of shadow parenting and committed protecting.
It was before
before they aged and gained weight
before they wore the stresses of life on their faces
before they traded in their stylish clothes
and classy and casual cocktails
all suave and debonair
for dumpy and frumpy
and far less fun.
It was before
they were they
and all that would become.
~Susan Ahlbrand
14 March 2021
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.
It has been a rough couple of weeks this April, but I am so glad to have made it here to write at least once! Missed you all.
Wave Watching
By: Emily Yamasaki
How fast do waves move?
Teal blue
Swelling swiftly
The horizon creates an illusion
Crests
Glimmer of white foam
Just a second
Where you can see through the sea green
Spray
Roar
Silence
When will the next one come?
Emily,
So glad you were able to make it once. Hope that the rough times calm down for you.
I love this poem. it’s so descriptive in such few lines. I love these lines:
Teal blue
Swelling swiftly
The horizon creates an illusion
J4
Smiling, jumping, and clapping
Just so happy to be
Sunny day in the park
Smiling, jumping, and clapping
Photo shoot for Father’s Day
So much energy shines through
Smiling, jumping, and clapping
https://drive.google.com/file/d/15poDf8bmW1On2fHUMnvKKnPRLETjJ6v6/view?usp=drivesdk
DeAnna, I love the repetition here — That is something I wanted to do today as well, but my poem wasn’t feeling it. Your poem is perfect with it! You create such a happy image, and I can’t wait to see how the image I’m imagining compares to the original ❤️
DeAnna,
Adorable! I can just picture the joys of getting little people to be still for pictures. Frustrating, but endearing.
Oh my goodness! When I clicked on the image I suddenly “got” the poem in its richness! What a dear shot of “smiling, jumping, and clapping”! Bravo!
Thank you. I have a recreated version of this picture, I this he was 18 months in the first one and 18 years in the second one. (Sadly the disc is locked in a desk drawer I can’t get to right now.)
DeAnna–aren’t this poem and the picture just the sweetest! I love how
is the thread throughout the poem.
Are the
bubbles
her family’s
blessings
descending
or
her
limpid
laughter
rising
I would love to see the world through your eyes, Allison. You’re always making sense of the confetti by creating images and unforgettable comparisons. As a bonus, you teach me words. The word limpid here is the perfect fit!
What a LOVELY image!!! I am in awe that the different colors of the bubbles are so vivid! And your beautiful metaphors of them being blessings or laughter – BOTH! <3
Wow, simply eloquent.
Allison, I’m glad I came back to see your lovely photo and to read your delightful poem. Such a wonderful reversal.
Allison, your poem is simply beautiful. And that picture . . . those bubbles . . . perfect.
I bet those bubbles are both.
Susan, I love the repetition of “it was before” in your poem. Lovely poem of a picture of your parents.
Black Crow
black crow strangled in the football net
intentional or an accident?
won der ing …
were you only looking for a place to perch in peace?
Angie . . .
Wow. This is awesome. A person certainly won’t need to see the picture because of your succinct images, but I’m sure glad you shared it because I was fascinated.
I love show you separate the syllables in
Oh, wow, Angie. I don’t need a photo: you’ve given me the exact image in your words. I admire the poet in you that decided to write won der ing that way, and the alliterative ending that provides comfort against the harsh image. Wow.
What a lovely prompt that I plan to use in my own classroom, and will use again for another photo. I loved the anaphora in your poem, Susan, and I was going to mimic that — however, the poem that was waiting to be written by me today didn’t include that. Perhaps next time 🙂
The Oregon Coast
will give you every
reason to
stay away.
Cold wind gusts
slap your exposed
cheeks
Sneaker waves
stalk you like
prey
Cliffs remind you
no land is
stable
Rocky shores
give weary feet no
respite
Yet, I am drawn to
this chaos
this drama
this power
and by observing
it all here on a
beached log,
I somehow
feel a sense of
peace
I never understood
what it meant to be in
wonder and awe
until I met
the ocean
Rachelle, I share with you the wonder and awe of the ocean even though the seas in San Diego are much calmer and the weather warmer. At least once every couple of weeks I go early before the people and walk on the shore with my feet in the surf. Yes, it’s still cold water here. The calm and peace I get are well worth everything! I like your description of the cold winds slapping exposed cheeks.
Oh this really makes me want to visit the ocean again! I love the contrast in your poem from chaos to peace – actually maybe contrast is the wrong word! The two are simultaneous, exist together. Your last stanza is amazing:
Thanks for sharing!!
Rachelle,
I adore your love letter to the Oregon coast–it is unlike others and so uniquely beautiful. It does indeed inspire awe and peace.
Rachelle — Having spent time with my nieces and their dogs on the Oregon coast, I am particularly drawn to the “wonder and awe” of this place with its “cold wind” and “cliffs” and the “power” of the greys captured in the photograph and your poem. Beautiful. The word “chaos” fits the conflicting elements of both almost harsh power and the beauty. Lovely! Susie
Rachelle, this is so beautiful. I have loved the Oregon coast since I visited the first time when I was in high school. I’ve been a few more times since. After growing up near southern California beaches, the Oregon beaches were a unique treasure. However, I can see this:
It made me smile, as I realize they are harsh. I also love your ending about understanding “wonder and awe” here.
such a wonderful poem especially the idea of “chaos” bringing peace. Never been, but definitely must at some point.
Rachelle–
I have never been to the West coast, and I feel like your poem just gave me an entire education. The descriptions are incredible and I want to go sit exactly where you are and experience the things that could seem negative but you show the pure beauty of. I love the entire thing, but these lines stick with me a little more:
Rachelle,
Wonderful poem about one of my favorite places, the beautiful Oregon coast. You capture the energy and vibe so well.
Rachelle, I love how the photo moves from log to rocks to sand to water to sky. Your poem captures how nature can simultaneously give us awe and peace. Like a thunderstorm, or a blizzard. Or that striking Oregon coast. You took me there. Thank you.
Rachelle,
Your poem captures the beauty and awe of my favorite part of the United Stares. The Oregon coast is the one place I long to revisit as often as possible. We’re a nine hour drive from Portland, so we like to camp on the Oregon coast. I love your photo and how we can join you in watching the ocean in it.
Kayla gave this picture to me
the morning of Grandpa’s funeral
as we sat and looked through his things
it was her birthday, we were celebrating
I must have been a little over a year old
and my family had traveled 2,000 miles
for a summer visit
I was his 45th grandkid
but he looks at me like I’m the first
and I seem at home in his strong arms
probably because he’s feeding me cake
which makes me wonder if he
had tootsie rolls in his pocket
like he always gave
to the kids in Korea
and the kids at church
in Mt. Airy
which makes me remember
one of my last 2,000 mile treks
to visit Grandpa
when he bought fudge marshmallow cookies
from Walmart for me, even though I was 21
which makes me think he’s
probably serving ice cream
to all the folks in heaven
right now
What a beautiful poem. I love the way that you start with the “facts” of the photo and then move to things you can suspect from the photo. Regardless, what a wonderful tribute, Rachel. Grandpas are oh, so special. Thank you for sharing this with us today.
Rachel,
What warm details you have added that this photo touches on, but can’t convey everything you have shared.
What a testimony to this man:
All the sweets seem to be a nice tie in to the photo and match his sweet personality too–cake, Tootsie Rolls, fudge marshmallow cookies, and ice cream in heaven. Yes!
Rachel,
Thank you for sharing this awesome picture and your beautiful poem about your grandpa. He was clearly a remarkable man. I love these lines–and the idea–so much:
sun sets on the lake
as the heron flies away
welcoming cool air
Mo,
This is gorgeous. And I love creating the image of the heron flying over the lake in my own mind.
Lovely! In just 17 syllables, I can not only imagine the photo, but I can feel the scene as well — the cool air and also the sense of peace. Thank you for this.
Mo — I really felt the shifting moments the converge in this haiku. So clear. You can always grab me with an image of a heron taking flight. Susie
Thank you for this snapshot in words, Mo. The heron is so majestic and I too can picture it flying over the lake at sunset. Ah, the cool air of the evening on a hot day is so welcome.
Ahhhhhh sounds and looks amazing….
Mo,
I struggle with haiku so much, and you make it look so easy. I totally feel like I am there enjoying this scene in person with you!
Mo,
I can visualize this poem in my mind. Nicely done.
I watched a blue heron lift off the creek today. Always a moment of pleasure/awe. Seeing this against the sunset is a gift. Thank you.
Great prompt! I’m also completing an April photo challenge; today’s is PINK. So, I took a picture of the pattern (pink/green flowers) and wrote an accompanying poem..
Thirty day countdown until
our new family member arrives
Waddling and sweating,
frantically preparing
Jeans too hot,
pink flower dresses
Flowing, flowing, flowing
Britt, this is lovely. I love that last line of flowing, flowing, flowing. It creates movement in this poem and image. Thank you for sharing this today, and I love reading your poems (though I don’t comment on every one that I read!)
You’re so close, hang in there, Britt!! I love how you brought your two challenges together for today. You said so much in just a few words here – what a perfect image. I love: “Waddling and sweating, / frantically preparing”. So real.
How exciting! That’s right! I remember a poem about your growing family, and of course, the days keep counting down.
This makes me laugh!
All the best as you finish preparing and just keep enjoying those flowing dresses and other very comfy places.
Britt,
I am so glad that you were able to combine two challenges that you had today into one. This succinct poem is perfect! I love these lines:
Susan, thank you so much for your beautiful poem and prompt. I love how you reveal so much about your parents in your poem. I was tempted to write one about my parents, I have been working on a difficult family project today, and am totally exhausted. I thought of a million photographs I would like to write about, but this photo is one of my most treasured, a time when I had all my sons together for a weekend. I lost my son Alex who is the one in red on the far right.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ctLHOYQ6ur3bGJViG9-s8Fk3lsl9RK7abztuPeV9eT8/edit?usp=sharing
My Treasured Rainbow
my guys, all smiles,
hot day in July— treasured
golden memory
24 April 2021
Indeed, Barb — a treasure. What an honor it is to see your family. Thank you so much for sharing it with us. I am sorry for your loss. His smile lives with us today as we witness it because you have taken these extra steps to get your photo onto that Google document. Thank you!
Sarah
Barb, my heart just gives out for you. My, my, my. Your haiku is a treasure, your photo is a treasure. Your beautiful family! I, too, have a sea of men in my life – three sons. I can’t imagine your loss – what a fun day everyone is having, yes, all smiles!
Aaww a treasure indeed! Thank you for sharing the picture!!
Barb — To think of the smiling happy faces of the men in your family and to know that you lost Alex is beyond all sadnesses. I am so so sorry that you have carried this loss. Your sharing the intimacy of your loving boys and this piece of your heart is a loving gesture. I am grateful and send my deepest caring in return. “Treasured” indeed. Loving hug, Susie
Awww what a special, special picture and a perfect haiku. Thank you for sharing a photo of your “treasured rainbow” <3
Barb,
Thank you for persevering in getting that photo included. It is so wonderful to see your family. Mothers of boys–especially the number you have–are truly special. I love, love, love your title.
I’m glad you were able to treasure this golden memory today, as I am sure the grief still overwhelms. I am so sorry for your loss, but I so appreciate your sharing with us today.
Barb, I’m so glad I found your poem and photo here tonight. I found an especial joy in the feet of “your guys”: sandals and socks…and barefoot! Thank you for this glimpse–in poetry and picture–of your precious loves.
A giant stands in the center of the patio.
Once a sapling carried home
in a white styrofoam cup,
dirt packed by the hands
of third-grade Dan.
The now four-story tree sways
with the winter wind, dances
with the North star,
“Welcome home, Dan.”
Dan has taken me to visit his tree,
to see his childhood home again,
to hear his story of the sapling
that was and the tree that’s become,
to remember the mother drying dishes,
the father smoking a cigar,
the charmed life of his.
And I am so glad that it does–
that the tree welcomes Dan
that the tree still stands.
And I wonder if the tree
has charmed the 3-year old
watching us from the patio, too.
http://www.ethicalela.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/wp-16193044326703126986137635298636-scaled.jpg
I love your photo. Yes, this is a giant. Adored the lines:
The charmed life feels so perfect. Gorgeous poem; gorgeous photo!
What a fun fab photo, Sarah – I love these lines:
imagine – from a little thing in a styrofoam cup! Trees are life-giving, your poem reminds me of this. Fun to think of a little one watching you visiting the tree.
Not only is the imagery stunning, but the implications and deeper themes leave me with a lot to chew on — thank you, Sarah, for this gift today.
Sarah, that is so amazing! What a great story. It is such a miracle of life that Dan was once as small as that sapling in a styrofoam cup, and that the tree was that small. Now here they both are grown up. Do you know what kind of tree it is?
Sarah — I really like the idea of returning to see the seedling turned into something so large and determined. Who says You can go back home!? And that the tree welcomes Dan’s return — love that. There’s a certain kind of provocativeness and magical in returning to something/sometime in the past. The photo and the poem have that magic. Thank you! Susie PS…thanks for posting my pic.
Sarah,
Thank you for the beautiful poem that has, like most of your poems, a deeper, thought-provoking meaning than what the surface indicates. I’m perplexed.
Gosh, did you bring back memories with these lines . . .
The entire poem creates a very clear image in my mind, much richer even than the picture itself.
Thank you, Sarah, for this beautiful mix of disclosure, memory, and image. You made me remember the straw thin twigs we brought home from school on Arbor Day. My dad dutifully helped us plant them randomly across the yard. We loved watching them grow.
Having problems.
Can I help?
Sorry, I was trying to do my poem and could not delete my response…when I was really trying just to put my poem in. I got my photo to share although it took a long time for it to open for some reason. Thank you!
I think
Having problems.
is a beautiful poem.
xo,
Allison
Susan, I love the storytelling you did with this photo of your parents, this whole framework of “it was before” was absolutely magical! This really shows the power of poetry, how much we can share through one poem.
I found it VERY challenging to find a photo as my ‘muse’/focus. It was very chicken/egg – should I think of a topic and find a photo? find a photo and write into it? oh my!
I finally went simple, light, “silly,” and recent – a photo of my husband and granddaughter, backs to the camera, walking through woods. This has been our go-to fun during the pandemic, we are blessed. Here goes!
walk in the woods
walk in the woods
talk in the woods
wouldn’t you want
want the woods
walk in the woods
with you
spring woods
summer woods
seasons in woods
all withstood
walk in the woods
with you
wild of woods
piles of woods
understood woods
good in the woods
walk in the woods
with you
pine for the woods
sap for the woods
box me in the woods
yes, I would, I would
walk in the woods
with you
drift in the woods
back of woods
round the woods
love the woods
walk in the woods
with you
Here is the link to my photo (which I have hopefully allowed you to see!)
https://docs.google.com/document/d/10EXZPDi_miMLpDBJBFaY2B5GftSdyIql2_OozCUrwfQ/edit?usp=sharing
Maureen,
I felt like I was dancing! Love the rhythm created in the repetition, the love of the movement drift, back, round, love, walk — and all “with”. The “with you” is everything here. The invitation. The acceptance. The “Yes, I would.” I just love this poem.
Sarah
Maureen, love the movement of this poem! This does flow like a wonderful song! Thank you!
Maureen,
I love your poem. It’s as though the trees are singing with the cadence of each swaying line. Fantastic poem. A walk in the woods is my favorite activity these days.
Maureen! I love this! Your poem is so rhythmic and that picture is precious! You should take the poem and turn it into the text of a picture book and illustrate it with pictures of your granddaughter in the woods.
Maureen, it sounds like an anthem that Frog is singing with you. So beautiful. I love the form this took. I keep reading it again to see what you did here! So beautiful and magical!
Love…
Your love is tender
Enveloping like a patchwork quilt
Deep love like a poem
Sweet love like butter cookies
Golden love like sunshine
An agape kind of love
©Stacey L. Joy, April 24, 2021
Here’s the link to my photo. I take pictures when I’m out walking and this lovely beauty caught my eye.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1hFB-cs4tdD_OW–S-tJBjP-9UGooXjU9/view?usp=sharing
Stacey,
I have so enjoyed your flower photos from your walks this last year. Keep them coming! The series of similes is perfect in its rhythm and imagery. Butter cookies. Butter cookies. Yes, that is a fine simile.
Sarah
Stacey, I look forward to experiencing your photos, and your words give me better understanding of what the flowers mean to you, allowing me to experience them more deeply. This line, “sweet love like butter cookies,” is so inviting, and the sunshine found in the “golden love” is just perfect.
Stacey – an absolutely stunning photo, took me in an unexpected direction! This poem is a love poem, and I was not thinking flowers. Oh, I love them both – poem and photo – so much – “sweet love like butter cookies” ! Yes! Yes!!
Stacey, your word choice is so rich. The photo of the buttercup is stunning, too. Love “patchwork quilt” and “butter cookies”, .and your final line is especially fun. I was curious though about the two different meanings for agape. Love your artistry, Stacey! Thank you!
Thanks Barb! I was only thinking of agape love as God’s love but now that you brought it up…hmmm. It fits to be wide open love once the flower has bloomed?? You made me think. ?
Stacey,
That rise is so, so gorgeous. It is the embodiment of sunshine. I love the word “agape” and it’s unconditional love, which should be the only kind. Gorgeous poem and photo. Thank you for bringing this warmth into my life in a rainy, Idaho day.
Wow! A startlingly beautiful picture. Butter cookies, sunshine, agape love. Yummy!
Stacey,
How beautiful!! And, it was like a brainteaser . . . I was trying to figure out what you were talking about before I opened your image. The similes you created were perfect for that gorgeous flower.
I’m drawn to the line
Stacey — How right for you to give testimony to the beautiful flower that you captured in the photograph. I love the “butter cookies” as I think about that yellow. So lovely. Susie
Stacey, it was fun to read your poem and then view the photo, and then read the poem again with new eyes. It was a lesson in writing for me. Thank you. I love what Barb noticed about the flower being agape with love and agape love from God. So many rich images of love here…deep, sweet, golden, and the attached similes are perfect! I want to write a poem with yours as a mentor!
I live about a mile from Lake Eerie. The lake is my favorite walking destination and my favorite spot to relax and meditate. I don’t know how to post a photo.
Rest for Awhile
I think I may rest here for awhile
breathe crisp spring air,
exhale hot tension,
hop between long shadows cast
like a checkerboard
rest in warm patches of sun
I think I may rest here for awhile
listen for music of lapping waves
the squawk of gulls, the bellow of bullfrogs
observe dancing water ripples
I think I may rest here for awhile
stand at the edge of the bluff
feel the wind’s breath tickle my cheeks
untie my hair and let it blow
lean against this sturdy maple
I think I may rest here for awhile
shade eyes, peer out, capture
sun bleached sky converging
into periwinkle waters
Let time pause, sigh
out the worries
Yes, I think I may rest here awhile
Tammi,
I was right there along side you resting. Love this. And when you let your hair down, so did I . I hope this doesn’t sound creepy!
Sarah
Tammi, the repetition of “I think I may rest here awhile” is so inviting, so tempting – I felt like I was there. I loved visiting here, I could visualize so easily. Love especially “the music of lapping waves,” and, earlier, the image of you hopping on shadows like a checkerboard – so playful, so sweet. Lovely poem!
Tammi, absolutely love the way you develop this poem. Gorgeous images and such a serene tone. The sound appeals and interesting similes were masterful. The repetition of “I think I may rest here for awhile” works effectively to not only creating mood, but also by making each section transition effortlessly. Thank you for taking me on this journey. Gorgeous poem!
Tammi,
Gosh does your poem ever make me want to go “rest here awhile” there. Your imagery perfectly captures so many of the sights and sounds of this sanctuary. I love these lines:
Hi All, Can someone give a hint on how to post a photo? I have wanted to do this a number of times and haven’t succeeded. I have tried copy and paste, embedded the photo into my poem. Maybe if it was a .pdf?
I wish I could be more help! I can tell that some are putting the picture in a Googe Doc then pasting the linking into the box. You do have to make sure that you change the permission settings so that anyone with the link can open the Doc.
Hi!
Here are two ways that may help:
1. If it is an online photo from a website, you can right click the image to open it in a new tab. Then you get a hyperlink to that photo, which you can paste here.
2. If you have a Google Drive, you can put your photo in your Google Drive and then in the “share”– copy the link. We can click on it if you all “anyone with the link” sharing.
However, a glorious part of this is that your poetry will paint us a picture, so we can imagine the photo.
Sarah
Thank you! That’s a help.
Today is my oldest’s birthday, he’s 19. My youngest turns 16 in twelve days. They were 8 and 5 in the picture.
My Boys
From the beginning
they adored each other.
Owen appointed himself protector
from day one.
Curran’s birth defect didn’t phase him,
he proclaimed him beautiful and his.
Though Curran needed sleep,
he fought to stay awake to be with his brother.
They played cars, trains, Legos,
and read books together.
Never did they object to being with the other.
When Curran was afraid to sleep alone,
Owen dragged the toddler’s mattress into his room.
Bunk beds became inevitable.
Their parent’s friction only
made them closer–
an armor against the coming strife.
They always have each other’s back.
They rarely fight and rarely have.
The love they have makes this mother proud.
I must have done something right.
Picture of O & C
Oh, Cara, what a beautiful description of a very special brotherly relationship. It is rare and should be valued! I love the whole thing but this part sticks out to me:
I really want to see Owen and Curran! Could you go change the permission settings on your Doc and change it from “restricted” to “anyone with the link”?
Changed it! Sorry, I thought I’d done that–but I really struggled figuring out how to attach a picture. We need a legend for what all the little codes above the text box mean!
Cara,
You have amazing boys. They are always kind, respectful, and will to say I to me. Beautiful poem about them and their bond. ?
Cara — What a wonderful relationship your boys have and that is truly a testament to you. I’d say you definitely did something right. Love the images of your boys spending time together: “They played cars, trains, Legos …” and “Owen dragged the toddler’s mattress into his room.”
Oh, this is precious! I have three sons and your photo sent me time-traveling. Such brotherly love! This, I remember so well – “he fought to stay awake to be with his brother.” So adorable!
Happy birthday to Owen! I love all the little snapshots included within this poem as well
“When Curran was afraid to sleep alone,
Owen dragged the toddler’s mattress into his room.” Reminds me of my brother and his protective instinct — though he is a year younger. I was smiling through this poem, and I am certain you have done something right 🙂
Susan – thank you for this “snapshot in time” challenge. How beautifully you wrote of your parents “before” (lovely anaphora) and also of their “becoming.” I love old photos; they look so young and vibrant here in yours.
I chose an unusual shot of my grandmother, not even thirty years old yet, sitting outside by a house in tall grass, surrounded by four of her small children. I am guessing the fifth child (one of my aunts) took this shot. My grandmother had six children by the time she was twenty-two; one baby died a few days after birth, Decades later, she mentioned him to me, still feeling his loss.
Aside to anyone who may have read my poem to Earnie (my aunt Earline) – she’s the child second to the right, snuggled closest to her mother. Hope the pic comes through…
In the Grass: A Pantoum
In the tall, tall grass
a mother’s determined love
covers a multitude of sins
revealed in time
A mother’s determined love
surviving day by day
revealed in time
burns at the roots of deprivation
Surviving day by day
her feisty, firebright glow
burns at the roots of deprivation
before the brokenness shows
Her feisty, firebright glow
covers a multitude of sins
before the brokenness shows
in the tall, tall grass
Oh, Fran . . . this picture! This poem!! And to see dear Earnie right here in black and white after reading your rich poem about her! The pantoum works so well here . . . the tall, tall grass framing the people and your words.
I really love these lines:
It intrigues me how you get the pantoum form to work so magically. In the tall, tall grass is a beautiful frame for this image.
Fran — I love the form you chose for this poem. The strength of your grandmother shines through so beautifully. Especially love this stanza:
“Surviving day by day
her feisty, firebright glow
burns at the roots of deprivation
before the brokenness shows”
Fran, my eye is pulled through the “tall, tall grass” to the face of your grandmother and her children before refocusing on that grass again. Your words do the same. I pass through the grass to find the who and what and hints of why before ending with the grass once more, almost as if it’s parting to reveal the secret before closing again. The pairing of these two is so very effective.
Fran, ‘before the brokenness shows’ – wow…your poem teases me so, I want to know more of the story. The photo is so captivating – it’s candid nature seems so rare for its time, often these family photos are so posed. Absolutely precious to see the family gathered in the tall grass. Love, too, the repetition of “a mother’s determined love.”
Wow, Fran, your poem is incredibly moving. So glad your photo showed, it is striking just as your words “burns at the roots of deprivation” and the “feisty, firebright glow” . Love your closing lines and the way this pantoum works so well to show a mother’s determined love. Gorgeous!
Fran — You’ve created such a creative and provocative poem in this pantoum. Your repetition of
roots of deprivation” is a particularly strong phrase in each of its placements. I love the picture. Thinking of your grandmother having that many kids so so so early in her life…whew! Wow, that’s a lot of “glow” before the “brokenness shows.” Darned powerful poem! Thank you for sharing a piece of important family history in such a beautiful way. Susie
Sepia Tones of Mama in 1926
Assembled in three rows
on the front steps
of the red brick Ferguson Elementary,
grades four-five held still posing;
not one child shared a toothy smile,
instead austere, somber
looking dead-on
into the camera contraption.
Who told the 29 children
to close their mouths
and get serious?
Standing in his open-neck shirt and loose tie,
a funereal teacher, hands on his hips,
controlled the annual moment
of the class picture.
Sepia tones made from cuttlefish ink sacks
shadow in umber the details of
bowl-cut hair, homemade stitching,
knee socks, dark school shoes.
Dead center, second row,
in vertical floursack striping,
Mama’s dress draped
over her sloped shoulders,
scantly altered
from the functional millsack
it was several days earlier,
made her easy to identify
back when the family’s German
was stronger than their English —
she looked a bit more like a prison child
that a fifth grader.
Lindbergh had not yet traversed the Atlantic
Rombauer was still testing her joy of cooking,
Budweiser had yet to trot out the Clydesdales,
crossing the Mississippi meant Eads or McKinley,
Did it matter to her that Sinclair Lewis
would win and refuse the Pulitzer that year?
Would she come to know Chang Kai-shek
would step into power in Canton(China)
and hold sway for the next 49 years?
Would she know that newborn Miles Davis
would grow up to plant jazz in her ear?
Did she see the photographs
that Ansel Adams was taking?
In Ferguson, Missouri in ‘26
did Mama anticipate she would
quiz her own fifth grade daughter
on those history dates,
prepping for that test?
Did she guess she’d pass her love of books
to her five children?
Did she foresee that her fourth child
would be the teacher
standing with her students
in the lawn of the middle school
seventy years later
for the class picture?
by Susie Morice, April 24, 2021©
Beautifully captured, Susie – I can see the sepia tones, the serious faces (yes, why?), the flour-sack dress…it is fascinating to consider the history that had not yet occurred, and to try to live in that moment. What a legacy of love and learning she left to you and your siblings!
Susie . . . the “what hadn’t happened yet” adds such depth to this poem. I can completely picture the scene through your words and I LOVE how the end circles to you. One of my favorite parts:
How I love seeing the picture after reading those incredible words!
Susie,
This picture w/ it’s sepia tones and your gorgeous poem full of questions fills me w/ wonder. I’ve noticed your mentioning Ferguson in other poems, and each time I think about what we know about Ferguson and it’s recent history. I think about the questions this raises in my mind about what was, what became, what is, and what will be. Your poem and the photo define a place in a moment that both chronicles the past and foretells the future. I love everything about both the poem and picture.
Susie, I’ve always wondered why there were no smiles back then – the somber expressions speak of a hardship that must have been lifted on occasion. Your poem makes me want to spend time with the photo, examine the faces, listen for their stories. I’m so glad you gave us your mother’s in such vivid detail, bringing your own story with hers in such a gentle way.
Love all the teaching/facts you wove into this poem! So fabulous! I have long wondered why so many photos of this age:
it’s so different from all the posing and posturing we do now! What would these folks think of all our selfies?
Susie, you completely drew me into this scene. The description of the teacher was particularly funny. Love the question at the end and how it connects to you. Love all the specific details to show their clothes, etc. Gorgeous poem! Thank you…..I love you can even read the date in the photograph.
Today, I had a short poetry workshop with Anna Roseboro. We looked at a picture on display and wrote a poem about it. Perfect for today’s prompt. I don’t have the photo that Anna shared but I found one appropriate from the National Geographic magazine of the Clotilda, the last American slaveship discovered in Alabama. Sorry it didn’t post here.
The Middle Passage
I am the sailor breathing the sea.
Inhaling aromas of vomit with salt.
Running away, I move toward more crimes,
feeling movement under my feet.
Inhaling aromas of vomit with salt.
Feeling the wet bounce and bending below.
Hearing groans under my feet.
Searching below the rough deck.
Feeling the wet bounce and bending below
Containing the sweating, black bodies chained
Searching below the rough deck
Smelling the stench of urine and mold
Containing the sweating, black bodies chained
Running away, I move toward more crimes
Smelling the stench of urine and mold
I am the sailor breathing the sea.
Oh wow. I can hardly imagine the stench, the horror. You’ve made me feel it — urine, mold, sweat, vomit. It needs to be more than words on a page. We need to feel and know and bear witness to this horrific time in history.
So very powerful, Susan – the lines, sensory details, and the pantoum form itself bring this experience, this inhuman treatment, to life. I happened to choose this form today also and struggled with it but here your lines flow perfectly – and writing to a photo, you’ve just proven, is a might act. A call to remember.
What a powerful rendition of the images we saw in the painting, Susan. I don’t doubt that others reading would be able to recreate the experience you painted here with your words.
Susan,
Your words totally take us onto that awful ship!
Who knew?
who would have known that I would be where I am today
The third oldest with responsibilities that never seem to go away
The one who was always picky and never wanted to play
Who knew
The one who was always shy in school became the most outspoken?
not knowing her life’s endeavors or what the world had in store
to afraid to try new things or be outgoing
who knew
the lack of support from family would leave her traumatized
leaving her forced to keep moving forward despite the odds
of being the family failure
who knew
she would graduate with honors with one of the highest GPA’s
Go to college and shine bright with nothing but A’s
I Guess she knew and she is me.
My eyes are misty after reading this, Tarshana, but I can just see your graduation photos – your smile, surely dazzling. I cheering and celebrate you! So many young folks need to read this poem and BELIEVE in themselves, and in what they can accomplish…keep on showing the world!
Tarshana,
I love that the “who knew” ended up being you! What satisfaction you must feel at all that you have accomplished in the face of very challenging circumstances.
What a wonderful poem of self knowing and courage. I find it inspirational to youngsters growing up around the doubt of others.
Thank you, Susan, for inviting us to view pictures and reflect on the who in the photo. Our son, Robert, was a competitive cheerleader, later a coach, and went to college on a cheerleaders’ scholarship. He moved eagerly into cheering because it was a sport in which he could earn awards for what we complained about at home. He is busy from before birth! Then…
Our Bob: Here Now There
When we were five,
My son was alive.
Now we are four
And our hearts are sore.
Bob, we miss your thumping.
While we were in here reading,
You were out there jumping.
Up from here, over there
Then longingly, out the window stare.
Anywhere but here.
You were the wanderer,
Running off from the crew.
We spent half our time looking for you.
Now, all we have is your picture
In our hearts, you now are a fixture.
We now can find you,
but
We can no longer hear you
strut
Clumping from room to room.
We can’t even log on to our phones
To meet and greet you on ZOOM.
You’re now there
In that transitioned space.
We’re here.
Our teary eyes fix on our family pix.
In the absence of your physical self,
We see your handsome face.
And our tears morph into cheers.
(See for yourself: https://bit.ly/3xoN23V )
Dear Anna… my heart aches with every clear, ringing line here on the loss of your Bob. I am moved by the last line especially, the celebration of his life by looking at his handsome face in photos. I feel his boundless energy in your words and am so drawn by the story of his finding his calling in competitive cheerleading – how perfect! I can see him in my mind…and my heart is with you.
Thank you, Fran. Your choice of “boundless” was Bob in a single word! I appreciate your thoughts of our grief, but please know it’s almost of relief! We believe we know where he is now. As a mother of a Christian son, I believe he is in a better place where his boundless energy will be a plus; No one will think is making a fuss!
Take care, my friend.
Anna,
I am so sorry for your loss. You capture the way memories work so well–the sounds, the visions of someone just out of sight, the pictures that look incomplete. Thank you for sharing, my heart hurts for you.
Anna,
I pictured Bob in my mind through your words almost exactly as he is pictured. I can’t fathom the difficulty of losing such a bright light, but the ending of your poem shows all of us that we can rejoice in our loved ones being in Heaven free of earthly bounds.
I love the way you put it:
Anna, I can not imagine how it must feel to have this loss of a loved one and part of you. I love the words you write about “clumping from room to room” Those sounds still echo in the house, I am sure. I am glad you have those wonderful memories. The day will come when you will see that handsome face again and cry tears of joy.
Hi Susan, thanks for the prompt… I spent the morning looking around the house at various pictures. I came across a photograph of my friend Matt, who tragically took his own life a year ago.
Time to cash out
But now where are you
Going?
You don’t travel light
Bags are packed
Full
Of tears and smiles
Of expectations and
What ifs
Confusion and anger
Memories
And Love
Hug us goodbye
Rest easy
Fly high
Eric,
I’m sorry, that happened to your friend and I hope you’re doing okay. Your poem was very heartfelt and I love how you put these words together to make it feel real. it’s like I’m living that moment and questioning the essence of life itself.
Eric, you’ve seen my poem, and maybe read one by Nancy White, and know that we, too, have written about the loss of a dear family member. Your poem balances the gladness and sadness so well of the ways that memories bring on both emotions as we view the same photo, or in this case, read the same poems.
Thanks for sharing.
Eric,
Thank you for sharing your heart with us. I’m sure this was not easy to write, but you captured very succinctly the emotions that come with a suicide. The following lines pack a powerful punch:
Susan, wow, your poem is such beautiful, emotional ride of your parent’s life. The repetition of “It was before” is a constant reminder of the photo being taken before all of life’s good and challenging events. I truly enjoyed reading your poem so much. My favorite lines are “It was before they were they.” Thank you again for sharing.
A selfie I took in front of my classroom library inspired my poem. In the photo, I am wearing a shirt from @FreadomUSA . Printed on the shirt are the words, “Educators Are Essential”. A tweet on Twitter also inspired my poem. It read something like, “Does anyone remember when teachers were…?”
Remember When
Remember when
teachers were heroes
praised for showing up
and doing hard things?
Remember when
teachers were rock stars
recommended for salary raises
and receiving the recognition we deserve?
Remember when
teachers were selfish
ridiculed for want to stay healthy
and considering the health of others?
Remember when
teachers were lazy
accused of not wanting to do their jobs
and failing our children?
Remember
teachers are essential.
Now and Always
Donetta,
Your poem is why teachers are so strong. Having that support and the history of teachers and their existence demonstrates the power they have and the essential materials they provide to people around the world. when you stated ” Remember teachers are essential. Now and Always” speaks more than you know and its stuck with me forever
Donetta,
I love the structure of your poem! The “remember when” serves as a started to so many different describers of public perception of teachers. Like so many things during Covid, people’s perceptions changed over time. I had truly hoped that we would come out being much more appreciated and valued. Your poem captures the essence of that.
Yes, Donnetta, I remember everything except “recommended for salary raises”! I’m kidding a little, but I will say seriously, I’m glad we have dedicated educators like those we’re interacting with here in Ethical ELA. Though we write nostalgically of days gone by, we still believe we are living in our purpose, teaching because we are called to do so. So, my dear, keep up the good work. Some student is sitting, looking at a photo of you, giving thanks to the Lord that you have been there for him/her/them!
Donnetta,
Last year when teachers were praised during the transition to remote learning I told numerous friends not to get comfortable in those accolades, that the public would soon turn on them. I wish I’d been wrong, but I’ve been observing the diminishing of teaching since 1981 when Reagan became president, and more specifically, since the publication of “A Nation at Risk,” that now discredited report. Teachers have long been society’s whipping post. So to answer your question, “Remember when?” Only for a brief, flickering moment.
When we travel I like to take photos of Ken that amuse me when I look back on them later. This poem is actually based on three of the photos I’ve taken.
Posing Ken
As a cowboy riding a
pony raises his lasso
swirls it over his head and
catches the feet of a calf
I raise my third eye
point its lens at this
man-child I love and
capture happy memories:
This former quarter horse jockey
standing in the Temple of Apollo
museum posing as a rider in an
Ancient Greece chariot race;
Straddling a toy tire pony
near at a strawberry
field in upcountry Maui
overlooking the Pacific Ocean;
Befriending a tiny horse
on the road to Hana
as the horse nips and
bares his teeth.
We enter the paddock
gallop through life
round each turn
reigns in hand together.
—Glenda Funk
Photo Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/13-oQdkIsH9RX2QP6LLnSfnKRb8EVQa98tAQ8cVTJRn4/edit?usp=sharing
Glenda,
This sweet poem really captures the fun approach you and Ken have toward life. The economy of words and clear images make this so memorable.
I love these lines, especially the camera as a “third eye”:
(You will need to change the setting on your Doc so that anyone with the link can view. I am eager to see your image(s))
Glenda, what a loving depiction! My favorite lines are in the closing stanza
We enter the paddock
gallop through life
round each turn
reigns in hand together.
as see this stanza as a metaphor of other times we “rode it out” together.
Thanks for sharing a way for us to share our photos. I’m going to do that now!
Glenda, I love each of these images and the photos of Ken AND that he willingly posed for you. What a fun way to add layers of memory to your vacation adventures. I can imagine offspring several generations from now trying to figure out what the man-child was doing on the toy tire pony.
Look at you two, horsing around! I love your playfulness, how you both
It’s clear that you have a lot of fun just being with one another – very sweet. Ken is a good sport!
I love him described as a “man-child” – those are the BEST people, so like my dad 🙂 Yall keep enjoying!
Glenda — Each of these poetic renderings of Ken comes through with a love’s eye — the caring and humor and appreciation of the man who “gallop[s] through life” with you. The “lasso swirl[ing]” over his head is my favorite. The playfulness is so dear. Lucky man, lucky woman. Hugs, Susie
Oh, how telling is this sweet poem and the accompanying photos! I especially love the analogy in your last stanza, how you are in this paddock of life together:
Bryan, no wonder this took you a tad longer . . . it’s incredible! It’s so full of rich detail and the unifying words moving from stanza to stanza really propel the ideas forward.
Wow!!
Firstly, I tip my hat to you, Sir, for choosing “molasses” as one of your words. Wow. Talk about a challenge, and you rose to it.
Secondly, what a gorgeous, imagistic, evocative piece. The language and story were great. Your envioe was perfect and satisfying.
Thirdly, I live in Erieville and teach in Cazevonia, and it made my heart leap a little with joy to see a poem about Sherburne. <3
Hi Susan, thank you for a fun prompt. I love photos so you’re right up my alley today. Thank God for Saturday morning and no Zoom class! Looking forward to writing with you and our community of writers today.
These lines instantly warmed my heart because I felt the courageous love of your parents. I almost hesitated as I continued because I didn’t want anything bad to happen.
Then you gave me a reason to exhale, yes I was holding my breath.
How adorable! Such a gorgeous photo and a loving journey of true family struggles and victories.
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My daughter’s wedding was three years ago. I was feeling melancholy when this small Polaroid-type photo fell out of my notebook today. Since we were last together, one of my sisters has died (the one in the back row on the left), and another has become a widow. Time goes on, and hurts accumulate. We haven’t had much drama over the years, and none at the wedding, but as I said, I was feeling melancholy.
Sisters
A Villanelle
Can we snap a picture, one asked?
Sisters by marriage, by choice, by birth
Hopes for tomorrow, hurts from the past.
Together again at long glad last
Unperceived by the world, our joy on earth.
Can we snap a picture? one asked.
Memories of broken promises recast.
Forgetting behind for this day’s worth
Hopes for tomorrow, hurts from the past.
My eldest’s wedding stole in, too fast
(Just yesterday it was when I gave birth.)
Can we snap a picture, one asked?
These sisters all came, in love unsurpassed.
Unafraid of the pain we may unearth.
Hopes for tomorrow, hurts from the past.
Love and forgiveness, newness amassed.
Put aside sadness and pain; choose mirth.
Can we snap a picture, one asked?
Hopes for tomorrow, hurts from the past.
Denise, this was gorgeous! Beautiful rhythm which underscored the tension between hope and hurt, pain and forgiveness. Lovely poem.
Denise, what great loss we suffer as we move through life (I’m so sorry for your losses). Your words honor the connections you have, alongside the joys and pains. This piece has a gentleness in the flow of the lines. I am especially drawn to the line, “Hopes for tomorrow, hurts from the past.”
Oh, how lovely, Denise! I know you are glad you set aside any differences or hurts to come together for family to share in a happy day. My husband’s sister saw to it that none of her son’s aunts or uncles on his maternal side will be at our nephew’s wedding this afternoon and it hurts my heart that the bitterness of this day will be forever evident in the wedding photos of absent family members that had differences that did not involve the groom himself. Your picture of your sisters coming together to snap a picture makes my heart so happy for you. Cherish this one! I also love the form of your poem – it works perfectly to express overcoming barriers to let love win.
Denise, my heart hurts for you as I am sure seeing that picture of all of you alive and happily together hit hard.
The villanelle words so well in this poem, giving your ideas great rhythm. I love the unity of the ideas and the last stanza especially:
Oh, my goodness…tears in my eyes with this one. I just spoke with my sisters this morning. They become more dear to me every year. I’m sorry you’ve lost a sister and a brother-in-law. It’s a never-ending missing. The villanelle form works beautifully with the melancholy.
Denise,
A villanelle is the perfect form for melancholy. We try to capture these memories in photos, but they’re only a facsimile of a memory. You capture this so eloquently in your repeating lines. I keep thinking about how temporal time is. I think I miss my sister more than I do anyone else these days. We share memories no others can understand. Your poem brings this thoughts to the surface of my mind today.
Denise, how beautiful that you have this photo! My goodness, the joy of so many dear sisters – I cannot imagine! I am surrounded by guys – my four brothers, my three sons…though two granddaughters are adding balance. Again, how beautiful to be one of six daughters – wow!! I’m so sorry that you have lost one dear sis. Time is precious, as you point out:
Yes, Maureen, and all my “sisters” aren’t even in this photo. I actually had four literal sisters (three of them are in this photo) One in Pennsylvania can’t travel. In this photo is also one of my sisters-in-law, sadly, she’s another widow (as I’ve lost my oldest brother, as well–before the wedding) and one sister by choice–the maid of honor from my wedding.
Aww Denise, what a lovely picture and poem!! The repetition in these lines is so powerful. Thank you for sharing a snapshot of good and bad experienced with your sisters. I’ve never tried a villanelle and really should. Thank you for sharing 🙂
Denise — this poem moved me. It reminds me of the importance of a picture, the value of sisters, and the pain associated with being human. Thank you for sharing this today; I am drawn to your story telling and poetry. I also learned a new poetry form today from you, so thank you foe that as well
Denise – Such a tender poem. The villanelle works so well in its rhythm and just the right repeating lines, the pacing of “hope” and complex feelings of “hurt.” I so feel the losses quiet murmur here. A beautiful picture of words and visual. Sending a loving hug, Susie
Susan, thank you for your mentor poem. I love how you catalogue the “moments” of your parents’ lives through the repetition of before, before. Your details are so vivid and heartbreaking, too (with the “surgeries” and “days in bed” and “stresses of life on their faces”). Thank you for writing and sharing this!
____________________________________
I have been staring
out my kitchen
window, enjoying
the wonders of
Nature,
marveling at a
stick bug on
the concrete
until, about
twenty minutes
later,
I realized it
wasn’t a
bug.
So, yeah, that’s
been my day
so far.
Haha! That looks like a stick bug! What a great topic–
So funny and sweet. Thanks for sharing the photo. That made me laugh even more.
Scott, I always love when writers get me to laugh out loud, which happened just now. I was right there with you at the window, thinking of the stick bug. And yeah, I would have done the same – great photo of a “stick” bug.
This made me laugh out loud: Much needed after this long week! Thank you. 🙂
Scott, I love the lenses through which you see the world. You most typically add humor and/or an unexpected twist to your works and they are refreshing.
Today is no exception. The picture makes the difference!
Scott,
What you see is all a matter of perception. LOL! That thing can be a stick bug if you want it to be. Love the tone change in your poem. Hope the day gets better.
This was my laugh for the day, Scott – I can see me being the one marveling for twenty minutes at a bug that’s not a bug… priceless! Thank you-
Scott,
I love how your poem embraces nature and its beautiful wonders. This made me laugh quite a bit and then I found myself looking out the window searching for anything out of the ordinary being that I live right next to the woods. I’ve spotted an owl in broad daylight!
I am giggling at this too. To be staring at a bug that is not a bug describes my failing eyesight and my lack of motivation. Thanks for this laugh.
Scott – gave me a giggle… gee, I’ve never mistaken a glimpse… LOL! A candid glance at your day. And just like that, poof, you elicit a delight. Thanks, Susie
Thank you, Susan, for the beautiful poem and the prompt. It was perfect for today. I knew the picture I wanted to write about. I just got back from a trip to the college my daughter is attending in the fall. I loved the little delivery robots they had all over campus. I decided to try a new form, as well – the Dodoitsu. That form fits perfectly because these poems should be about work or love. I don’t know how to get the photo in this post, though 🙁
I roll miles to satisfy
hunger, so you can focus
on studying. On the street,
though, we play chicken.
Here is a link to the picture ( I hope it works).
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Ek55VdywMahGeIji7M1VJTyutkLIxb_pUw9xoZqCxU0/edit?usp=sharing
Oh, my, that is so awesome. I would love to see these robots. Funny, I read your Dodoitsu before I read the introduction. It is so much better after the introduction! I haven’t heard of a Dodoitsu, so now I have something new to check out. I hope the campus visit brought peace and joy in looking forward to the fall!
Heather, the delivery bots are fascinating. I wonder if they can defend themselves from anyone who interferes with them? I really appreciate the choice of playing chicken (so visual!) when they are working to satisfy hunger. That connection layers in even more meaning.
Heather,
Thank you for introducing me to two new things . . . the poem form Dodoitsu and the concept of delivery robots. I have not seen them nor heard of them. What a world we live in!
I love how you take on the voice of the bot! Your last line is awesome!
Heather,
This is very cool—both the form and the photo. I’ve never heard of either. ‘Preciate the learning.
Definitely showing my Gen X leanings…ignore my posts below where my daughter was trying to show me how to add a picture to this post! XD. Attached is a picture of me and one of my best friends. The picture was taken a couple of months before his partner passed away, unexpectedly. The form I used for the poem was a ghazal.
The first glance, deceiving us, quickly.
Who’d think he’d achieve this much, quickly?
Our bitterness turned to love (shocking)
And his loneliness was relieved quickly.
Days turned to years and he flew away —
Through time and space lives still cleaved quickly.
Quick trips held our hearts as one, thickly:
And here are we. So naive. Quickly
did time scythe our lives again, after
This picture. Our lives were all makebelieve. Quickly
We hop ‘tween distractions, so agile
Disbelieving we’ll grieve again. Quickly.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/13DS3Mncq6Wep53US733L1IX2KypXwJFLwexriUEkZPM/edit?usp=sharing
Wendy, I am caught up in your form today, which expresses the relationship, the loss and return and loss so well. Sometimes I struggle with form pieces since the words try to work into the structure, but yours enhance the ghazal so beautifully (or the ghazal enhances your words so beautifully!). Quickly becomes more powerful and yet remains quiet at the same time with each repetition.
Wendy,
Jennifer’s comment is a perfect distillation of my thinking about your poem and the photo. You’ve written a masterful gazelle, which is such a difficult form. I feel as though I’ve traveled through a life reading the poem. Yes, “quickly” repeated captures the anxiety and rapidity of the relationship in both a quite and emphasizing way. It’s a bit paradoxical here. Love the poem.
Wendy,
I have never written a ghazal and now I don’t think I will ever attempt it as yours seems to do everything the form wants accomplished and I am scared to even attempt it! Jennifer’s comments are spot on; it’s not often I can see how much a form enhances the content. It’s masterful here. I really like these lines:
The word scythe really works here.
Wonderful job!
Testing how to use images!
I could not figure out how to get the image into the post. Any tips?
Hi Wendy,
How did you do that?? Please, do tell.
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Stacey and Heather: My daughter pasted the link from the web page with the cat picture…and when she posted it, the picture appeared! (How did my kid get to be smarter than I am?)
However, I managed to save my picture (the one accompanying my poem) to a doc and then I shared the link to the doc below my poem, which is posted above! (Thanks, Scott M, for showing me that you could do this!) Whew! XD
LOL. I was trying to do what you did with the cat photo, Wendy! When it showed up as a link, I was, like, that’ll work. Folks can read the poem and then click the link to see the picture if they’re curious.
Wendy, this little sweetie brings smiles. I’m so glad your daughter posted her today.
bbb
Susan, I love meeting your hip and idealistic parents. There are so many sad moments in your poem–events that shaped them. The repetition of
is very effective.
These lines cracked me up:
I am thinking about a daughter’s perspective looking back at old photos and how you thought they changed. I wonder if my kids do the same with my photos!
I searched and searched for a photo of my mom ant dad with four kids, and my mom looked like a model with high heels on. I wanted to write a poem called Feet, and how her feet didn’t handle those high heels for the long haul. Someday I’ll write that one. I’m working on another one for today!
Oh, I look forward to seeing Feet at some point in time. I love the concept!
I did write that poem about my mom’s feet, Susan! https://mrsdkrebs.edublogs.org/2021/05/22/feet/
I’ll actually be inviting my students to write about photos soon, so thanks for this invitation to explore my own photography. I didn’t feel like digging out a photo album and scrolling through all 3000+ pictures on my phone seemed to daunting. Then I realized there was poetry in the act of “flipping” through it and decided to write about that instead:
Seasonal Scrolling by Erica Johnson
I can trace the seasons
flying by with a swipe
left to right to left
a colorful spectrum
of memories and time
passing in a blink
a flash of the camera.
Stop. Zoom in.
I know it’s spring
when green blossoms
beneath my finger
flashes of pinks and reds
an (almost) yearly pilgrimage
to parks and gardens.
Stop. Zoom in.
I know it’s summer
when blue streams
past the screen
fun hats, flip-flops, and fireworks
flaring color on a beach (rarely)
foreign locations all
roll past my window.
Stop. Zoom in.
I know it’s fall
when colors crisp
and photos are peppered
with pumpkins and eclectic costumes
festivals and friends gather
around a crackling fire.
Stop. Zoom in.
I know it’s winter
when blue scarves
and bulky coats enfold
evergreens decked in
a glitter of lights
and a (rare) blanket of snow.
I can trace the seasons
a swipe through time
sharing celebrations
of new people
new places
new opportunities to preserve.
Stop. Zoom in.
Erica- it’s always refreshing to see a new take on something, and this poem made me think of social media in a new way, as a place of connection, as it was likely intended to be. I love the repetition to stop and zoom in – to really notice and appreciate the passage of time and the important people in your world. I particularly like the attention to the clothing and the light in each stanza. Brava!
Ah, Erica, what sweet captures of the seasons you have created here. You did a Stop. Zoom OUT. on the prompt today. We got to enjoy the bigger picture of your camera roll. I think winter is my favorite in your poem today–
I bet snow is rare in Arkansas! That image of a “glitter of lights” is just a beautiful and true phrase.
Nice job!
I can picture you swiping through your phone and all the colors and objects you mention popping up I love the repetition of Stop.Zoom in. because that it what I do when I am scrolling through my photos. Thank you for this walk through your seasonal photos.
Erica, your repetition of the line, “Stop. Zoom in” mimics the action for us so that we feel as if we are moving with you through the camera roll and the seasons. I liked the sense of motion this format brought. It felt both like an old school camera capture (the flash, zooming in) and new (swiping and stopping).
Erica,
I love your twist on the prompt! You capture the scrolling through the phone so well. Our eyes catch details that tell us the season or even the year or the event. Your repeat of “Stop. Zoom in.” works.
Such great imagery and sound in this stanza:
Erica,
I love the repetition of “stop, zoom in.” This past year especially I spent a lot of time scrolling through photos, trying to cement memories in my mind, finding comfort is images of people I love. This has helped me zoom in on what’s important and zoom out on the difficulties of this dang pandemic. Thank you for capturing so beautifully this experience of scrolling through photos.
Susan, what a beautiful poem about your parents! It rang with truth, sympathy, and pathos. Beautiful work.
Susan, thank you for sharing this prompt, as well as your words. We are able to see your parents more fully, gain insight, realize the backstory, from your writing. The father of two beautiful former students passed away Thursday evening, a devastating loss caused by Covid. Their photos caused me to think about what we hold on to, how we hold on, and why.
Camera Roll
fourteen hundred forty four
a life documented in
summer escapes like sonnets
recipes dropped like morsels
small tempting bites
urging a taste
possibilities for students
writing prompts and rainstorms
of ideas bursting before dissipating
books to read
books to share
books to write
visions sprouting like flowers
upon artists’ fields
images of sons
as they once were
days upon days upon days
a life documented
In digital matter
but only one mattered yesterday
Jennifer, that last line is simply heartbreaking and haunting.
My heart goes out to this family. The books to share, books to read, books to write also moves me to think about how every other area of my life screams of minimalism but my books scream of hoarding. I need to concentrate on the books to share. Yes – it is fascinating to consider what we hold, and how a s why we hold those things.
My goodness…the power of these words just stopped me in my tracks. Wow. You’ve nailed the power, the importance that one photo can embody. “Summer escapes like sonnets” is a delicious line, pretty line in a poem that doesn’t bring us to pretty. How do you do that? It’s amazing!
Jennifer, I love where your brain (and heart) took you with this prompt. Reflecting on the things we hold onto and what they say about us is a prompt in and of itself.
I love how you separate that key line by itself for even more power.
My favorite part:
That last line is so powerful! But I love a lot of lines in this poem. I particularly enjoyed
“summer escapes like sonnets
recipes dropped like morsels
small tempting bites
urging a taste”
It made me think of my own photos and how often I take pictures of recipes or particularly fancy plated food and then it just gets buried in the albums. Thanks for reminding me of this.
writing prompts and rainstorms
of ideas bursting before dissipating
visions sprouting like flowers
upon artists’ fields
images of sons
as they once were
but only one mattered yesterday
I really love these lines in particular because they show this gorgeous connection with nature, cycles, loss, and renewal. I love the image of ideas dissipating like a rainstorm, and the topic brings it to another level. It’s really hard to see children loose their parents, and this poem really touches on you really noticing and honoring this loss. Thank you for sharing this today.
Jennifer, agree with Kim Johnson: That last line holds so much power, and setting it off as you did, by itself, was so impactful. Heartbreaking for your students, and a beautiful poetic reflection.
Jennifer, I’m so sorry for the loss for the family whose dad died Thursday. Your poem is beautiful and playful, and then the last line really does remind us of ” what we hold on to, how we hold on, and why.”
My favorite line is
I loved your camera roll. I related to your lines “images of sons as they once were.” I love to scroll through pictures of my kids when they were younger – all at the tip of my finger. Your ending was powerful.
Jennifer,
Your poem pairs beautifully w/ Erica’s. I’m holding onto the last lines:
I keep thinking about the photos we keep, the ones we delete, the memories not captured in these digital moments, what form a photo takes and how this changes our perception, how a single image can capture and spark so many other memories. These are all in your haunting, gorgeous poem.
Jennifer – From the title, you take us on that roll… there’s a feel of rich snapshots with pauses to capture each as worthy moments, and then we come to the “only one that mattered” and the punch of that was a real stopper! Such an effective structure! Through your lens we walk into your life and it is touching and important. Seeing through your eye evokes a deep respect and a poignant gift. Thank you for a touching gift. I ache for your student and that loss, but also see the care that you have which helps ease that loss. Susie
Susan, Thanks for this prompt. I love writing to images and host a photo prompt on my blog each week. Your poem goes deep into the history of your parents. That repeated line allowed you to take us through the story of their lives. Very effective. In my neighborhood, there is a median full of blooming amaryllis. I took a picture on my phone. I couldn’t figure out how to add the picture to this post.
Ode to Amaryllis
O, trumpet to the sun
O, spring fulfilled.
A full circle
of fireworks,
constellation of red stars,
you brighten dull drives
around the block
shouting to the neighbors,
“Wake up!”
The earth waits
for your kindness.
I bask in your Joy,
soak up your warmth,
And praise this new day!
Don’t worry! I can see these flowers…shouting wake up! If our flowers could talk I’m sure, “wake up” would be an often repeated phrase. There is energy in this poem…just what I needed to get moving today.
Margaret, such rich, stunning imagery – these trumpets to the sun, their proclamation of spring and excitement to begin the day regally. There is such beauty in nature that I often find myself saddened by how much of it we don’t see that exists. Thank you for reminding us to look today! I didn’t know how to upload the photo I chose, so I put a link to my blog in the comment section under my post. That may be a way to show us your beautiful snapshot.
Margaret,
No photo needed! Your words paint the picture beautifully. A median like that would/should certainly “wake up” drivers by. This image is perfect:
Margaret — I see these Amaryllis “brightening dull drives”. Your poem makes me wish I had planted some bulbs. Maybe this year.
Margaret,
I can see the amaryllis with your words–
and
Such a joyful ode to this beautiful flower. I’ve never lived in a place where they grow like this in the neighborhood. I would like to be woken up by these beauties.
I love walking around the neighborhood looking at the beautiful colors blooming. I love the lines “Wake up! The earth waits for your kindness.” The colors at this time of year are glorious and deserving of your ode.
I can see it in my mind, Margaret – celebrating the day and the sun in full-throated glory.
Susan, this tribute to your parents paints the same snapshot I would have imagined had I nit seen the photograph! Your words are worth a thousand pictures! The form works so beautifully, the anaphora and the alliteration, the pacing and movement through time. I stopped and read this part a couple of times
You were blessed with those who would not be held back for love! Thank you for hosting us today!
I will post a link to my blog page containing the photo I used in the comments. I was in Covent Garden in June 2019 when a young boy with Down’s Syndrome, London as big as life all around him, danced to a street performer and left a lasting impact on me.
Indelible Moment
He danced like no one
was watching – carefree spirit
I cried tears of joy
Here is the link to my photo
http://drjohnsonscommonthreads.blogspot.com/2021/04/blog-post.html?m=1
Kim, if only we all danced like no one was watching. Your title works perfectly, as does the form – sharing so much depth behind what appears to be simple. What an incredible moment to carry with you.
Often it takes children with special needs to teach us to dance like no one is watching. My husband and I would go to a Sunday afternoon dance and there were adult specials there, carefree and kind.
Oh…lovely. I can see it without the photo. The older I get, the more beauty I find in places that were never defined as beautiful for me when I was younger. This poem really captures that. Thank you.
Kim,
I sure wish that we could all be as uninhibited as this little guy was in the moment that stuck to your heart. Your words capture that moment beautifully and it will be indelible in my heart, too. The haiku is such a great form to show this wonderful moment.
Kim —
This Haiku is a perfect description of the joyful photo. Love this line “danced like no one was watching”
Thanks for the link to your blog post and the photo. It is a sweet photo, and I love that he continues to speak to you two years later. Precious haiku, and I love that you snapped the photo with his foot off the ground!
I cry just over the picture you paint in my mind, Kim, with these few words. Pure joy.
Kim,
We can learn so much from the carefree living of a Down’s syndrome child, including dancing w/ abandon. This brief moment is captured beautifully in your haiku, which seems to me the perfect form for the occasion.
Good Morning, Writers! Ahhhh, Saturday. My cat and I are up in a quiet house writing. Thank you, Susan for this prompt. The photo of your parents is absolutely precious and the story of them in your poem is such a tribute. All that they gave up for family…my goodness. A story all of us can understand on some level. I feel like I know your parents a bit.
I love taking pics from my twitter feed as prompts. Yesterday, there was a beautiful pic of Jill Biden receiving a Navajo Pendleton blanket at Window Rock, AZ. I read the article and took a strike line from her speech for the golden shovel below. You can see the pic here: https://twitter.com/LakotaMan1/status/1385708085491077126?s=20
Hozho
Today I learned a word in
Navajo. The First Lady was in front
of a gathering at Window Rock of
people of two nations. She told us
that we grieved Navajo deaths behind
cold headlines. She spoke of us
as one people, two nations above
injustices of division. Hozho for us
is to learn for the good of all below
our shared sky. Hozho is for us–
one people — one woven blanket, and
two sovereign nations. Hozho wraps around
those seeking beauty and balance for The US.
Linda, today I learned a new word too! Thank you for that gift. I didn’t see this story or image until your words beautifully wrapped us up in them. Thank you for sharing her words through yours.
Linda, I love the use of a Golden Shovel as a line taken from her speech. That was such a creative and meaningful way to write today! A new word, a creative expression, a beautiful gift! Thank you!
I read your seamless poem before I found the striking line (which I also love). Now I want to find this article. Jill is an extra gift of this new presidency.
Oh, Linda . . . I had hoped that this prompt would bring a lot of diverse photos and subsequent poems. You certainly provided right away with the first submission! That photo is so powerful and your poem captures a wonderful slice of the moment. How clever to use a line of her speech as a golden shovel. I’m grateful to now know what hozho means.
I love this line:
Linda — These lines —
“She told us
that we grieved Navajo deaths behind
cold headlines” — are so powerful! I wish we lived in a world where we were proactive instead of reactive. But I am hopefully that positive inclusive leadership will move us in the right direction.
Nice idea to write a golden shovel with words from the pictured event. What a great idea to use photos you see as prompts. Very nice.
I read one source that said hozho was the most important word in the Navajo language. Your poem is beautiful, and these wrapping up lines are my favorite, like the blanket wrapping around Dr. Biden: