Dear Teacher-Poets,
As some of you know, I moved from Chicago to Oklahoma almost two years ago to teach English education at Oklahoma State University. You may not know that I was a social worker in Chicago jails before I became a teacher. So when I learned that Oklahoma has the highest female incarceration rate in the country (twice the national average) and that there was an organization doing something to advocate for change, I got involved.
Poetic Justice is a nonprofit bringing arts-based workshops to individuals incarcerated in women’s prisons. Their mission is to rewrite the narrative about individuals who are incarcerated by equipping them with tools for healing from trauma, showing the world their inherent worth. They publish an annual anthology of poetry written by students that amplifies their voices and lives.
Many of the volunteers and staff are or were educators —I suspect because we know the power of writing—and so I invited a few of my Poetic Justice friends to share their favorite writing inspiration with us the next four days. You will meet Ellen, Hanna, Karen, and Katie.
I have included buttons after their bios if you’d like to learn more about Poetic Justice volunteer opportunities or donate to their programming. Please, do not feel obliged.
Peace,
Sarah J. Donovan, Ethical ELA Founder
Our Host
Ellen Stackable founded Poetic Justice in 2014, which offers restorative writing workshops for incarcerated women in Oklahoma, California, Arkansas, and Tijuana, Mexico. In 2018 she was one of 10 finalists for CNN Hero of the Year. In 2019, she received the Courage Award given by the University of Oklahoma. Over 3000 incarcerated women have participated in Poetic Justice classes since it began.
Inspiration: The Labels That I Wear
“When you label me, you negate me.” -Soren Kierkegaard
Prewriting: (With pen and paper)
- Think about the labels that other people have placed on you throughout your life. Imagine these labels as tangible objects, peel and stick name tags that one-by-one stick to you. The labels that others have given you throughout your life may be positive words or terms of endearment. These labels may also, though, represent unkind or untrue representations of who you really are. The labels may begin to pile up on top of one another or may begin to cover your body. Write down what some of those labels are–use sticky notes if you have them.
- Now, think about the labels you will give to yourself as you consider who you truly are and are becoming. Give each word or description its own metaphorical label, and imagine that now these labels are also being stuck to you. They may pile up on top of one another or may begin to fill in the empty space around your body. Write down these labels as well.
- Finally, visualize that you now can peel off the labels that you do not want to keep; labels that have been given to you without your permission or labels you have given yourself on the hardest of days. Slowly remove the labels you do not want to keep for yourself. Only keep the labels that represent who you truly are and who you will become in the future. Take a deep breath in and breathe out with each label removed. Feel the weight lifted as you remove these small, sticky reminders of how others have labeled you.
- In the end, what remains? What labels have you chosen to keep for yourself? How do they represent who you will become?
Process
Write about who you were yesterday, who you are today, and/or who you will become in the future. Perhaps your piece is inspired by one of the peelable labels you chose to keep during guided meditation. Whatever it is, this is your writing, and it is for you. Who do you want to be? Who will you become? Who do you no longer want to be labeled as?
Ellen’s Poem
Labels That I Wear and Ones I Discard
(Upon the attack on the Capitol)
The labels of the year past and the new year begun
are heavy, sticky, and ugly.
Anxiety, sadness, pain for our world
all stick to me and weigh on me.
I want to peel them all off and
take healing stones to my inner self
and begin again.
Down to the quick I abrade,
some labels so deep it is hard to fathom.
When I am done, I take out the possible,
the hopeful, the what-might-be labels
and I look at them.
They have been there, intact the whole time.
Laughter, running, wind, stars,
joy, awe, victory, loving and loved.
Arms outstretched, I rise
to embrace what I see before me.
-Ellen Stackable
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.
[Ellen — This is a super prompt! So so effective a way of getting at the layers. I hope to come back to this prompt again and give it more time. This weekend I had for the first time in 13 months finally seen and been with family…all vaxxed and relieved to be in each other’s presence was incredible after this horrid year. So I was really short on poetry time. More importantly, though, is the incredibly important work that you are doing with Poetic Justice. I am truly moved by the work you are do for women in these dire circumstances. Thank you! Susie]
Cyclist
Spokes, rubber, chain, gears,
tools that help me be me.
Yesterday I was biking across Iowa,
pedaling the ribbon roads
through tall corn and beans,
laughing with my cousins,
clocking 50 miles a day,
undaunted by the pace-lines
of bike teams cranking past me.
Seeming moments later I pumped
my way along the Santa Fe Trail,
certain of my destination
and capacity to ride the arid hills.
I biked Corvallis.
Biked Spearfish, Sheridan,
and Boise.
Biked the mitten of Michigan
in winds off Huron
that pushed my bike sideways.
Biked along the lake in Door County.
Biked stretches of the Great River Road,
the trails of the Everglades.
Biked the Katy from one end to the other.
Still I bike
but the miles are shorter, flatter,
and still I ride
where my weary knees
one metal,
one bone-on-bone
will allow me.
I am a biker.
by Susie Morice, April 25, 2021©
Susie,
I love how you took one identity and rode w/ it. Biking is a gorgeous way to see the country, and I especially recall those Midwest roads reading your poem and taking this cross-country trek w/ you.
Susie, it is great to see you pop in here at the end of a long beautiful weekend with family, but you still showed up for this day of poetry with your poem family. This is such a great idea for the prompt–to explore one of your labels. I loved seeing all the places you have pedaled! I have never taken as many long trips as you, but I have done the west coast of Michigan and part of the California coast on bicycle tours, so I had fun reading yours. The label of biker is still one of your monikers even with the changes. You explained in rich detail why the miles are shorter, flatter :
Beautiful job!
Susie, wow, your biking journies are impressive! Love how you end this. Your “undaunted” personality bounces off the page here. I’m so glad you were able to be with family this past weekend., but I sure hope your planning to fix your bone on bone knee. Ouch! Loved your poem!
Susie, I was seeing family this weekend as well! I love the imagery of place in your poem. I, too, am a biker. “Still I bike.. .and still I ride. . .I am a biker.” Just lovely.
The Good Girl
By Mo Daley 4-25-21
You know you are old when you start to contemplate
the advantages of being old.
And what I realized is the biggest advantage
is the permission I’ve given myself to say,
“Screw you!”
I’ve decided that I don’t care about
external constraints and labels.
Go ahead and try to categorize me,
but you’ll find I’m in a class of my own
and I’m excited to see who I will be tomorrow.
Mo, amen, sister! I so agree with your message! Love your line, “but you’ll find I’m in a class of my own” Your voice and self-affirmation are striking! Outstanding poem!
Mo — I love the strong voice here! And the bold, in-your-face excitement at the end…”to see who I will be tomorrow.” Rock on, Girl! Susie
Mo, this is so great! I like how you chose a label of being Old and the whole poem came into being.–with your strong power of age at work.
I wish we could have shared some of that wisdom with our “Good Girl” younger selves.
AWWW YEAH, MO!
and “you’ll find I’m in a class of my own”
PREACH!
Mo, I love your boldness and fearlessness in this poem!
“Screw you!”, indeed.
Mo, yes!!! BOOM!
My friends and I like to say, “Take that, monkey boy!” LOL that’s what Trump made us say every time he said something stupid so we said it at just about anything stupid after that.
I love this! It’s powerful and necessary!
?
Ellen, thank you for your important work–and for joining us here with your meditation activity and poetry prompt.
I decided to take yesterday/today/tomorrow literally to see if I could sense change on a micro scale.
I wrote in rhyme, which was NOT a good choice! (It sounds like a silly child’s rhyme instead of selfreflection :-/.) If I had time and energy, I would try this again and instead describe a single image from yesterday, today, and my imagined tomorrow.
I am submitting this tonight merely as an act of trust: coming to the page with regularity does, on occasion, result in something satisfying. But not tonight! 🙂
Write on, friends! We’re in the home stretch!
Yesterday
the washer quit
my brow was knit
the supper burned
my joke was spurned
my notes were flat
I smelled a rat
Today
I ran the trail
and answered mail
the sun was out
ate brussels sprout
I called my dad
felt not half bad
Tomorrow
I’ll greet each kid
ask what they did
read Shakespeare puns
and call my sons
before bedtime
I’ll write a rhyme
Allison, I thought your poem began with the more frustrating things in life but began to improve, which shows how much our efforts matter. I like how you also reveal your positive teaching style in the last stanza. You still rhyme a heck of a lot better than me! Here’s to the home stretch!
Allison — I love the frank levity of this. Witty and quite a delight…from the washer to tomorrow’s rhyme.
Allison, I love your treatment of yesterday, today and tomorrow here with the very specifics of a short window of time. It speaks of bigger ideals, though, and letting yesterday go metaphorically, as well. The Today stanza feels fresh and full of hope. Lovely!
Allison, your poem reminded me of “Woman Work” by Maya Angelou, one of my favorites. I think the simple rhyme worked–life feels like this cadence.
Thank you, Ellen, for introducing me to that poem! It makes me want to say YES! THAT’S WHAT I WAS AIMING FOR 🙂
Thank you Ellen for this prompt today! I’ll need to revisit it because I realize that I didn’t really follow the “spirit” of the prompt: my brain went from labels to warning labels and that led me to my first stanza…
_________________________________
This poem should
come with a
warning label,
a statement from
the Surgeon
General printed
in all caps.
You should avoid
prolonged or excessive
exposure to direct
and/or artificial
sunlight while reading
this poem.
Do not chew
or crush
but swallow
this verse
whole.
Be aware that
this poem is
a choking hazard
and may irritate
the eyes and cause
leakage
(you don’t want
to know where).
It may cause
drowsiness
and dizziness
and has, in fact,
caused cancer in
laboratory mice.
The bunnies it was
tested on, however,
were unfazed and
seemed to enjoy It.
Let me remind you:
You are not a bunny.
This poem has a list
of side effects that
is longer than the
poem itself, written
in verse as well,
heroic couplets,
in fact.
You should not
operate heavy
machinery when
reading this poem,
should not,
in fact, even think
about operating
heavy machinery
for at least
a week after
being exposed
to this poem.
To be safe,
you should
really close
this tab, turn
off your monitor,
step away from
your computer
and work your
damndest
at forgetting
you ever set
eyes
on this poem.
You’ve been
warned.
Scott, I heard your warning, but I could not quit reading. Your incredible humor literally vibrates off the computer screen! What a journey! Thank you for sharing your cleverly wrought poetry label. Still smiling!
Scott,
Your humor is unmatched! This poem is a gem!
Scott,
I’m happy to report I’ve experienced none of the side effects your warning mentions, but m experience is only anecdotal, a form of muni narrative prose poem, as it were. ?
Scott,
Love this! Now I can’t stop thinking about operating heavy machinery. Diabolical of you! If only I were a bunny. 😉
Scott,
Love the labels. Thanks for the warning and a good chuckle!
Oh my! A fantastic label. It says all about the poem. We have been warned but still laugh and take it in. I love and agree that you have to swallow the verse whole. Thank you, Scott, for this wonderful warning label.
Scott — HAHAHAHAHA! Loved this twist on labels. It was so perfect to have it take the form of those insane warning labels/commercials on TV that go on and on and on with the dangers of side effects. Truthfully, this poem has a giggle side effect!… And How fun is THAT!?! Susie
What a great way to start my day! Laughing out loud. 🙂
Ellen, thank you for your prompt today. Labels can stick to us and that’s what my poem is all about.
Journal Prompt in Room 222
labels easily stick to me—
when introducing
Raisin in the Sun
I say,
“Write your dreams on slips of paper, please.
I will not read these—
write any dream,
your secret dreams are safe with me.”
gathering the slips
I place them into a glass jar.
smiling I hold the jar high, announcing
“Here are all your dreams
just waiting to be fulfilled—but remember—
dreams don’t always come true”
Still smiling, I lift a hammer;
swing with all my might;
smash the dreams to smithereens
What happens to a dream deferred?
classroom eyes widen
flicker nervously like buzzing gnats
in fluorescent lights;
whispers wing across the room
“Crazy!”
“She’s crazy!”
“Edler’s crazy!”
I remember these moments
as I listen to the voices inside my head
I breathe in
I breathe out
I hold this label closely to my heart
I feel its weight; its truth
I breathe in
I breathe out
smiling, I embrace this label,
like recognizing a friend from long ago
completely, undeniably
crazy—
that’s me
Barb Edler
25 April 2021
Barb,
I guaranteed that “crazy” teacher left an indelible imprint on the kids lucky enough to have her.
Barb,
This is such an awesome way to express creative teaching! Yay! I love this poem and it’s devotion to making kids see things differently–even if they proclaim us crazy or off-kilter in the process. Here’s to crazy teachers!
So amazing! I love the bounciness in your poem. Those students are so lucky!
Well, holy cow, Barb — This is a doozy! Crazy…naw…methinks inventive, creative, boldly honest, and hellbent to get a point across that actually will become indelible. And there is the deep knowing that dreams get all screwed up…and dang, that hurts badly enough to make you feel crazy. Feel crazy, yes. Be crazy, no. Super poem, my friend! Susie
Wow, Barb,
what a robust way to introduce the prompt: “What happens to a dream deferred?” I can only imagine some of the writings that came about after their dreams have been smashed, and to contemplate how they might have to adjust and alter. That lesson will not be forgotten.
A little aside: I love that you teach in Room 222. (I always think of a favorite show from when I was young–Room 222. )
Barb, so glad I am not the only crazy teacher! To demonstrate the extent of Greek Tragedy, I break a ceramic jar in front of the class. “I breathe in I breathe out”. Love it.
I think I know what people say after they meet me–
she’s snarky, sarcastic, salty,
but that’s only a cellophane layer I wear.
Beneath that veneer of saucy wit,
hides a girl who never fully fit in.
With quips, diversions, and a bit of banter,
observers won’t look further and discern
what I don’t want them to see.
Teaching has been the perfect stage
to practice my craft.
Each hour, day, week, month, year in the classroom,
it is never about me, but about the kids.
Students shouldn’t know
the inner lives of their teachers,
shouldn’t see the personal demons–
they have enough of their own.
Slight forays into honesty are enough
to set an example and counsel the searching,
but laying oneself bare is a dangerous choice.
Let them see the confidence,
the aftermath of choices made
without the raw vulnerability of
wrangling with impossible plights.
The reputation of being a bit feisty
is just fine and dandy,
lest they see the inner working of a
mind furiously fighting for fearlessness.
Cara—have you BEEN in my head?? Your insight here is spot on—
“but that’s only a cellophane layer I wear.
Beneath that veneer of saucy wit,
hides a girl who never fully fit in.
With quips, diversions, and a bit of banter,
observers won’t look further and discern
what I don’t want them to see.”
An teaching is the perfect platform for us, isn’t it? Cellophane layer—a perfect metaphor!
Cara, your voice and motivation to wear this veneer is clear. I agree it is all about the students. I so enjoyed your descriptive lines:
Life is too, too full of disappointments which you capture well with “wrangling with impossible plights”
Your poem needs to be printed in a poetry book for teachers.
Cara—what a wonderful deconstruction of how one appears vs what one feels. I like how you added the layer of decisions you made of how to present yourself as a teacher. As such, many of us struggle with that line. How much should a teacher share with their students? It makes me think deeper. I also noticed the fabulous alliteration throughout, of course.
Cara,
I think this prompt made us take a good hard look at ourselves . . . more so a hard look at what our label “tells” others. You capture that perfectly, especially with these lines:
Cara,
Wow!! Beautifully done. You are definitely snarky, but I know that isn’t the most important thing about you. However it sure is fun to watch.
This stuck with me. I have certainly been trying to put on a happy face lately, even when I am not happy with everything going on.
Frankly Enough
You’re a klutz
you’re frankly
frankly a kid
frankly a mess
mess like the kitchen
mess that will stay.
Stay back
stay cuz you don’t have enough
enough cute clothes
enough witty comments
comments about cool things
comments spoken clearly
clearly you’re a fraud
clearly you don’t belong
belong with them
belong with the rest
rest of them
rest of the friends
friends from forever
friends you’ll never have. . .
Have you heard enough?
Have I made my point?
Pointed out your dry hands
pointed to your slouched posture
posture of defeat
posture of an old man
man, you’re pitiful
man if you could only
only be good at sports
only be artsy
artsy like her
artsy enough to paint
paint a door
paint your way out
out of this
out of here
here where you’re stuck.
Here is a good place
place to say SHUT UP
place to cut in
in front of
in order to quiet
quiet the insults
quiet my brain
brain that betrays
brain that’s said enough
enough because I am
enough is what I
I
am.
_______________
I wanted to narrate some of the labels I find myself giving to ME. A blitz seemed a good form to capture the conversations I sometimes have with my brain! Thank you for the prompt – writing this was therapeutic for me today!
Frankly, you have a wonderful insight into yourself. I have the same conversations in my brain and need to learn to give myself lots of hugs and cheers more often. A great list. Thanks.
Rachel, I think you got inside of my head today. I agree this blitz format works so well to capture your inner conversations. Love how you end this poem!
Rachel,
Wow. This is an accurate recitation of what my brain does on a regular basis. Sheesh, we really are hard on ourselves, aren’t we. The rant/litany/blitz format works really well as it creates that overwhelming incessant pattern that so many of us have in our heads. Thank you for sharing. Nice work!
Love the blitz poem. The repetition creates a rhythm to the poem that kept me wanting to race to the next line! I like the reflective nature of your poem.
Ohh! What an awesome form for this poem. It works so well…”quiet my brain” — I wish, WAH. I love working the endings of blitzes around so they pack the most punch. This end is SO SO GOOD! 🙂
Rachel, brain convos are the worst! “SHUT UP”, agreed.
(I am) Me:
brother
son
stepdad
(the!) husband
(oh my…)
friend
enemy
peace maker
rebel
teacher
student
mentor
mentee
drummer
(the guy who wants to play guitar)
athlete
consumer
artist
song writer
poet
You can expect
the sun
but those expectations
evaporate
when you need
to turn the wheel
but the ship
you are steering
is not headed down
your hill
you look in your mirror
and I stare back
waving goodbye
This is such a neat poem. Especially the last section.
I also love the phrases in parentheses you included! Thanks for sharing!
Eric, I so enjoy how your poem progresses. The end is compelling. I can totally relate to wanting to embrace some labels that don’t stick. Excellent poem!
This poem took me on a nice journey down an unexpected hill. So true how we are label ourselves one thing but it turns out another way. The ship steering reminded me of the soap box derby that happens on a hill nearby. The young ones have such great ideas and expectations but when they launch down that hill all kinds of things happen including losing a wheel and waving goodbye.
Eric, your mixed metaphor of ship heading down the hill tickles me. Sometimes we do find ourselves attempting to live up to labels and we find ourselves in strange terrain. Thanks for the smile evoker.
Today I am thinking about a label I will never wear.
Family Reunion Tree
Hello!
stickers
stacked
beside
Sharpies
wait
for
names.
My
stack
bears
a border
color-coded
for the family limb
for its branches and twigs
for blossoms from bloodlines.
But
my
limb
is
bare.
I have no names to Sharpie.
I have only white space to imagine what if.
So I take the stickers stacked and the Sharpie beside
and fill the white space with names of my imaginary tree.
Sarah,
Your poem shows how something so seemingly innocuous creates such pain. My family (father’s side) is having a reunion in Oklahoma this weekend, so your poem really touches a chord as I think about labels. There’s a prick to the heart in turning “Sharpie” into a verb. My friend, you have many branches bearing many buds. I’ve come to think this whole family tree thing is overrated. What you sew and grow can’t be produced by biology, but it’s much more important. Hugs and love to you.
Glenda, you say what I came here to say . . . that Sarah has given birth to so many wonderful things that are changing the world.
The form of this poem is so neat – it feels to me like it imitates the shape of a family tree with / without branches. I love the last line: “and fill the white space with names of my imaginary tree.” It’s both sad and comforting.
Sarah, this returns me to the learning I did with Cornelius Minor and Kwame in Chicago a few years ago. Part of a presentation dealt with the assignments given students in regards to any type of genealogy, as this becomes problematic for students whose ancestors were brought here against their will. While you express the emptiness of the other end of the tree, your words evoke a similar challenge in that white space – the punch of missingness is felt so strongly.
This is a sad and beautiful poem. It really does look like a tree! I think there are not enough stickers in the world to list all that you have birthed, Sarah!
Oh, what a lovely poem Sarah. The feelings felt in this poem are strong.
One word lines here are so effective to express the bareness.
I love the ending “fill the white space with names of my imaginary tree” when I read this it made me think of drawing some pictures in the label also.
Sarah,
Wow, oh wow. Thank you for the gift of this poem.
Labels
I don’t like labels.
It’s like you get stuck
with a brand and the glue
from inside your gut.
Labels, lots of names
filling my head.
Labels marking people
and things that I dread.
Can’t we ignore them,
those markings and all?
To put a label on one
you don’t know – such gall!
I have always ignored labels
especially those that I wear.
They scratch my neck
and my skin they tear.
Labels marking described traits
found in everything I do.
And I wonder if you see them.
What I’m watching too.
Unlike labels on food,
ingredients on a can.
What’s shown outside
can’t mark what’s in man.
How much salt is contained?
Enough for a flavor?
Will there be more of me
for others to savor?
Which of my labels, I ask
have been placed but unsaid?
Signs making me tender
like a loaf of fresh bread.
The labels don’t stick
they have no glue.
I am what I am
in this human zoo.
Love your last line, “in this human zoo.” That really reinforces the idea of labels to identify various species.
Me, too., Linda. And, the lines
The labels don’t stick
they have no glue.
I am what I am
in this human zoo.
make we wonder whether the labels make the bars at the zoo? Hmmm. (And I don’t mean liquid refreshment, ice cream or candy. 🙂 )
Susan,
You are amazing! I ❤️❤️❤️ your poem. It’s as though you read my mind, and I have been wrestling w/ my dislike of labels all day. I love the rhythm of your poem and the way each verse creates a little box to reinforce the ideas you’ve articulated. I also love the touch of humor in the last verse. “I am what I am / in this human zoo.” Well done!
Susan,
This is wonderful and so insightful! In trying to express to students the dangers of stereotyping this week, we ended up talking about labels and how so many of them are deceptive or patently false. I love your images of the labels scratching and tearing your skin and how they’re no better than an identifying sign at a zoo. Profound and so spot on. Thank you.
Labels
I don’t like labels.
It’s like you get stuck
with a brand and the glue
from inside your gut.
Labels, lots of names
filling my head.
Labels marking people
and things that I dread.
Can’t we ignore them,
those markings and all?
To put a label on one
you don’t know – such gall!
I have always ignored labels
especially those that I wear.
They scratch my neck
and my skin they tear.
Labels marking described traits
found in everything I do.
And I wonder if you see them.
What I’m watching too.
Unlike labels on food,
ingredients on a can.
What’s shown outside
can’t mark what’s in man.
How much salt is contained?
Enough for a flavor?
Will there be more of me
for others to savor?
Which of my labels, I ask
have been placed but unsaid?
Signs making me tender
like a loaf of fresh bread.
The labels don’t stick
they have no glue.
I am what I am
in this human zoo.
Sorry to my writing friends. I don’t know why or how this posted twice. Please ignore one of them.
Ellen, thank you for this prompt today. I read your poem several hours ago. Some of your words that have always been in tact struck me with their sweet joy, making me smile…
I’ve been thinking throughout my day about the labels of my lifetime–some I gave myself and lived up to, others were given to me. It’s interesting how I am still a conglomeration of these labels, but I’d like to hope I’m more the second half nowadays.
Poor
Angry
Much Afraid
Patch Eye, Pirate
Skinny, Tomboy, Boy
Liar, Reeder’s Digest
Critical, spiteful, ashamed
Self-conscious, inferior, weak
Labels glued on by me and others
Peeled off and traded, God’s grace at work
Denny, friend, youngest sister, daughter
Aunt, softball player, creator
College graduate, teacher
Chief learner, intimate, free
Courageous, powerful
Christian, wife, mother
Storyteller
Curious
Loving
Loved
Love that this is your longest line, “Peeled off and traded, God’s grace at work” – you get to decide which labels to keep. Also adore “Loving/Loved.” That is beautiful, Denise!
Denise,
You and I, I think, have something in common if you wore an eye patch for the problem I have with my eyes. I’ve had three surgeries for strabismus. When I had the third surgery my ophthalmologist told me about research into how a person having strabismus, even after correction, is labeled and judged by others, although subconsciously.
As I read poems today I keep thinking about how much truth and how much fiction lives in labels we think others assign to us. The physical appearance of your poem reminds me of climbing a mountain and then descending it. I’ve no doubt you’ve always been a wonderful person. I bet the last half of the poem is also more of who you were at other times in your life, too. ?
Thank you, Glenda. I didn’t think of that connection until you mentioned your surgeries would have included eye patches. My eye patch was not a real one, but the port wine birthmark over my left temple, near my eye. Sixth graders can be ruthless though. They were to me and I was to them, as well. I’ve changed a lot, but I appreciate your words. I also found comfort today in remembering examples of those descending mountain characteristics from my childhood. Thank you.
Denise, ahhhh….I love your ending! Your catalog of labels shares your spirit and passion and life well. Thanks for sharing this insightful poem about you! Awesome poem; wonderful you!
Oh, Denise . . . this is magnificent. The form you chose is perfect to reflect the shift in labels you believe you wear. And, the turning point line works so perfectly:
Denise,
The movement in this poem is just perfect. Both sight and sound work together to proclaim who you really are.
One by one
By: Emily Yamasaki
Angry like fire
-raging out of control
Soft like clouds
-whispy like you aren’t even there
Stubborn like a bull
-aimless with no true purpose
Labels are believable
To any five year old
Trust, they say,
And one by one
The labels are neatly lined up
On my chest in a perfect row
Passionate, not angry
Intuitive, not soft
Committed, not stubborn
One by one
Pick at the corners
Until you see
That after all
You don’t have to believe them
Just a sticker, anyway
Oh, Emily – I love how you pick at the corners of these labels! Yes:
I love that reframing of anger, softness and stubbornness to Passion, Intuition and Commitment. Beautiful treatment of this prompt today, Emily!
HI Emily,
I love the matter-of-fact attitude and confidence in this poem. It’s a breath of fresh air to think of the ease with which you can “pick at the corners”
This Is a great visual!
I’ve missed you and your writing! Thanks for this gift today!
Ellen, this was an enlightening exercise. Thank you for the prompt, process, and your poem.
I care deeply, and
if one wants to interpret that
negatively –
that’s their prerogative.
Call me a hoverer,
a worrier,
a pessimist,
an overachiever.
If that’s how you want
to label me, so be it.
I will take those labels
and put them aside,
on their side,
realizing
they don’t know
the depths of me.
At my core, I am a
nurturing teacher.
I care and love from the
depths of my soul.
I am a
daughter,
wife,
mother,
sister
auntie,
friend,
teacher,
director,
hard worker,
always striving to
care for and help others.
Now, that core
is making room for more.
ME!
It is now time to
nurture and teach
myself – find me again.
I wonder what new labels
will be attached to
me in the future.
Writer?
Traveler?
Student (again)?
Knitter?
Gardener?
I absolutely love the image of you standing negative labels on their side! Yay, you!
Heather, nice! People who label us really don’t know the whole picture, do they? Your poem conveys this truth well. I love the making time for you and wondering about the new labels in the future. That’s a great question to ask and dream about.
Heather, I love how you show your passion and your heart in this poem. Love the future labels that may attach! Lovely poem! Thanks for this revealing poem about you. Awesome!
Heather,
This is so great! I am apparently about the same age as you are so this line hit me in the feels:
Thank you, Ellen, for this poetry prompt – I particularly like the line in your poem that reads, “They have been there, intact the whole time.” This is so true – our strengths, our possibility, our hopes, they’re all right there within, always. Thank you, too,
for your extraordinary work with Poetic Justice; I am excited to have learned of this organization.
falling short
the judgement
the reproach
the inadequacy of me
falling short
though I cannot undo the carving
I can turn the cut a bit
see it from different angles
see its many facets
see if it glimmers at all
falling short
I knew I know I will always know
I am not
all that I should be
I can only fall short if I am trying
I can only try if I am living
sinning offers perspective
failing, questioning, mistakes
are the stuff of full lives
I am another flawed human being
falling short
trying to love deeply
believing in
growth
understanding
forgiveness
a loving God
falling short
I’ll take it
I see the way it glimmers
in new light
childhood labels
are not soft stickers easily peeled off
but wounds forever carved
in one’s innermost thoughts
as Leonard Cohen says
I have tried in my way to be free
Maureen,
So much about your poem today resonates w/ me. We all “fall short.” We’re all imperfect beings. I love these lines:
“childhood labels
are not soft stickers easily peeled off
but wounds forever carved”
This is so true, and I think these same childhood labels effect how we perceive adult labels assigned to us. My friend, you are enough. Just as you are. You are not inadequate, and I think many of us spend too much time snd energy thinking about our inadequacies. That’s what the world tells us to do, Hugs and peace to you.
Maureen, lovely poem here, my friend. Falling short is a powerful refrain. I love that a loving God helps us see “the way it glimmers / in new light”
This was an ouch though:
Maureen, like Glenda and Denise, the lines that spoke most to me were
The intensity of these labels that carries into years after, becoming carved wounds, creates such a strong contrast with the easily peeled stickers of childhood. I love that last line too.
Maureen, I feel the pain we can experience internally when we believe we have fallen short, but I think your last line is the important point to remember. Overcoming hurt and pain is not easy, and self-love and self-esteem are so important, especially when trying to navigate the difficult turns in life. I thoroughly enjoyed the “carving” metaphor throughout your poem. How we take shape is a process, one that is often sharp and creates deep grooves. Very compelling and provocative poem! Loved it! Thank you!
Maureen, I can relate to your poem for many reasons. I often wonder if my mom had lived longer and seen me grow/mature/change more than what she saw, would I feel like I have done enough. We all think we have fallen short. But have we? Or do you think it’s what was meant and therefore we just fall into place?
I love this:
Beautiful.
Thank you, Ellen, for this reflective piece this morning. Thank you for the work you do.
Today, I wanted to write my poem about lots of different labels but then I brainstormed this interesting metaphor for one of the biggest pieces of my identity: being a teacher. I just let the poem do the rest of the work.
I am a decomposer,
perhaps a worm,
using my gut
to weave through
soil breaking
down dead
plants
animals
and yes, I
even take
the shit
of those
above me
on the hierarchy
and turn it into
something workable
I make what is decaying
and transfigure it
into something
more granular
more digestible
more nutritional
more comprehensible
in order for my
plants to grow.
Rachelle, this is both clever and beautiful! I love the metaphor of worm, and transformation. You made me think about worms in a new way when you say “I make what is decaying and transfigure it into something more granular” – what a metaphor for our education system, getting shit from the top and transforming it. I also love the “use your gut” – how lucky your students are to have someone willing to transform difficult things in order for them to grow. Well done!!
I love this metaphor. It really made me think about being a teacher in a new way. My favorite line that made me nod my head was “I even take the shit of those above me on the hierarchy and turn it into something workable.”
Rachelle,
This is a fabulous extended metaphor! Without your note above, it could actually fit other things as well, but is just so apt for teaching. We do indeed have to process and convert and deal with all sorts of ridiculousness in order to teach and honor our student’s needs. Thank you for expressing it so vividly and poetically. Well done!
I am loving the worm metaphor here – and, yes, it is a great metaphor for teaching at its best!
Rachelle, I love where you went with this prompt. Look at those word choices in this beautiful poem. Transfigure the decaying. That is perfect. Then granular, digestible, nutritional, comprehensible. Those are just so thought provoking metaphorically. I’m reading your poem for a fourth time now.
Rachelle, your poem reflects such keen insight yet it’s wrapped inside such a delightful metaphor. I have been hoping to start challenging myself to use more figurative language to drive my poetry and your poem adds motivation.
Rachelle,
Once again you have done a fantastic job with your poem. Your extended metaphor is nicely done. Thank you for sharing today.
I loved this! The metaphor is so beautifully woven into your poem. So many words I loved, but these were my favorite lines:
Rachelle,
What an apt metaphor for the radical work of teaching.
Love it!!!
My favorite lines:
The alliteration and the descriptions reveal so much in so few lines!
Your life is a poem the world needs to read!
??
Blossom
Honoring that yesterday I was angry at who I thought I had become…
The bitter, selfish, self-center middle child who didn’t know the outcome
of what it meant to have to cut off family
pondering the thought of vanishing the face of the earth and starting a life a new
But TODAY
I took a deep breath and formalized my plan
I realized I need to look ahead
keep moving forward because it’s always good in the end
being a first-generation college student will be my biggest flex
so today I work hard and dust off all the specks
I know I will succeed so you know what happens next
My future
will enable me to prosper with no regret
I will be graduate with honors and pressure the dream I dreamt
I am…
strong
women
bold
courageous
outgoing
unforgettable
black
beautiful
Holy smokes, Tarshana. I love the acknowledge and acceptance in the first stanza and then how you transform that into what you are TODAY and what you will be in the FUTURE. Labels change and develop, and I like how your form displays that journey and your rhythm and rhyme enhance the message. This poem makes me feel proud, energized, and happy for you. Thank you for sharing this piece today!
The writer in me love the rhymes in this set of lines:
“being a first-generation college student will be my biggest flex
so today I work hard and dust off all the specks
I know I will succeed so you know what happens next”
and my heart loves the determination I feel in the stanza marked “today”. I re-read your title at the end, and Blossom really fits with the last bold stanza of words. Thanks for this lovely and relatable poem, and wish you tons of peace and prosperity!
YESSSS, Tarshana! The victory lies in seeing your anger yesterday as something that you can conquer and YOU DID! Life is filled with yesterdays like you had, but we learn to see them as just that…yesterdays. Push forward for todays and tomorrows, they hold so much in store.
Stand in the strength of “strong, bold, courageous…” You got this!
❤️
Thanks, Ellen, for sharing this prompt and challenge for us to be careful about the labels we put on people, too.
Labelers Don’t Know!
Am I who they say I am?
Are the labels really facts?
“Stuck up.”
“Miss Priss!”
You’re just “The Teacher’s Pet”
“You’re not white, so don’t talk like that!”
Assimilation was the goal.
We were raised to fit a mold.
But neither the black or white could stand me.
And my teachers didn’t stand behind me.
So I started to fight, even though
I knew that it was not right.
“Meany!”
“Stuck up, arrogant fool!”
Is what they called me the most in school.
They were right. I was stuck up,
Just trying to buck up and be
What I was taught to be.
“Be like the whites, then you’ll have rights.”
But it didn’t work out that way.
So I started to listen to what my church taught
Turn the other cheek; it’s okay to be meek.
Meekness is strength under control.
You’ll have more peace in your soul.
So, I tried it. It worked. But know.
I still got labeled, but the labels changed.
They began to reflect the strength that came
When I stopped denying my race
And accepted the evidence in my face.
Labels or not, it’s who I am.
A proud Black woman here to be
All her Creator meant you to see.
I’ve learned to live with the cruelest slam.
Come on! They’re just labels.
We know labels can lie.
Acknowledge mislabeling,
And we’ll no longer cry.
The last two lines are evidence of your strength. Your pride is evident and well-earned. And your poem is truth.
Anna!!! The suffering and the forcing to be someone we are not make life deeply challenging when we are young. Thank God for your strength, your understanding of your rights to be YOU, and the beauty of becoming what you always were meant to be…a proud Black woman!
Love you and your poem! ??????
Powerful poem, Anna. Thank you for writing this piece this morning — not only is your narrative/journey powerful but the way you presented it adds to the powerfulness. Your internal rhyme and intention paid to the sounds of words allowed readers to see into this process. Thank you, again, for writing this.
Yes, yes, yes – “we know labels can lie.” I was riveted by these lines, both affirming and questioning:
We should never have to swallow labels. This is so very strong and right:
Anna!
A stunning poem and narrative of the labels that you defy that cannot contain you. I love the shift in the stanza:
Indeed, your strength is inspiring.
Sarah
Anna, you sure do a phenomenal job of shining a light on what you deal with. I sure appreciate the insight. I really love these lines:
Thank you, Ellen! These lines resonated with me because I have learned to trust that I have all I need.
This process took me on a journey. I wrote without stopping and chronicled labels in time periods. I don’t know about this form I’ve written in so I’ll say it is free verse. I felt like the labels were blending into one big nasty label so I removed the punctuation and placed it where it seemed appropriate.
I Am Who I Am
1963-1980
unplanned unexpected disruptive little sister naughty loud cry baby mischievous liar talkative
smart aleck back-talker
smart speller writer reader speaker spirited talented performer
1980-1991
rude roomie girlfriend fling dancer skater party animal girlfriend graduate
victim wounded broken
teacher married wife Mrs. victim wounded broken
Mommy Mommy weary weary writer
1991-2016
graduate manicurist multi-tasker
balancer mediator defender
victim wounded broken
disrespectful mean angry volatile
ready determined unstoppable writer
Focused. Courageous. Quiet. Calm.
2016-2021
Divorced broken.
Patient client
Healed
Focused
Calm
Poet
Prayer warrior
Sister
Mother
Friend
Teacher
Loving
Whole
Me
©Stacey L. Joy, April 25, 2021
Stacey,
I’m noticing a trend in today’s poems. Labels are complicated and malleable. I love the approach you’ve taken here because it shows grown. What’s most difficult about labels is others often make them static and refuse to move past the labels they assign others. Conversely, our own perceptions impact how we perceive others’ perceptions of us. You are “loving” and all the good things we associate w/ being a loving, caring person. I imagine that has always been part of your nature even when you didn’t see it.
Stacey—your labels, your poem, the flow, teh brokenness and the victory in the last stanza… (but I was drawn so strongly to your 1963-1980 self!)
Stacey, when you stated,
“Healed Focused Calm Poet Prayer warrior Sister” stuck with me because I can recall myself reliving these every single day. Your poem has spoken to me in more ways than one as if I were living through it with you. You are so strong and I can sense that throughout the poem. I really enjoyed reading this and getting a feeling of chills and the sense of compassion. Thank you for this wonderful piece.
I like the structure of your poem. This would certainly lead me down a very different path. The repetition of “victim wounded broken” was powerful. However, your last stanza shows how the past has helped you evolve into the “loving whole Me.”
This poem form is stunning — a timeline poem. I can see it being cathartic for so many in noticing the shifts across our lives.
I see the structure dismantling from one stanza to the next, and that last stanza is freedom — feels like freedom to me — as you move toward your Self — “Loving/Whole/Me” !
Sarah
Stacey, I love how you formatted your poem into the various stages of your life. You have so many labels that need to be celebrated. Thank you for this honest reveal about your life and courage. The last few words resonate:
Yes, love it! You’re a truly beautiful spirit, Stacey! Thank you for sharing your powerful words with us today!
You are who you are AND we respect you for being true to you.
Thanks for affirming yourself in this poem!
Stacey,
I love the format you chose . . . breaking your life down into segments and letting your words reflect who you were labeled as during that time period. I love that you use the word “whole” to define yourself. That’s the main thing we can hope to be.
Ellen, first of all, your work with Poetic Justice is so inspiring. Thank you for giving us such a wonderful inspiration for bringing out great ideas! Your mentor poem is fantastic. I really love these lines:
Here is mine:
Hello, My Name Is
Over my heart
is the identifier
I most want.
All day long,
other labels cover
that one up.
Mom
Teacher
Wife
Friend
Co-worker.
Label after label
weighs down
those under it.
There is no ripping off
one label without
likely tearing it
or the others under it.
Instead of piling the labels on
I would rather the one label
just have all those names
on it
mixing and blending
one role with the other
so that all roles
are really one identity:
Me.
~Susan Ahlbrand
25 April 2021
Susan,
Your poem is a great concept of what we all would like in reality. I can relate to the part ” There is no ripping off one label without likely tearing it or the others under it.” because it exposes me to realize that we as humans literally have layers and trying to rip those layers causes damage. Having one label that consists of all that person is a huge step in being yourself. I loved your poem. Thank you
Oh, wow, I really like the image of all the labels melding together:
Susan,
This stanza has me thinking quite deeply today:
I am wondering about the layers of labels and how to go about finding the “me” that you did!
Love it,
Sarah
Susan, yes, I love how you show how labels should not stand alone but be a blend of who we really are. Love how you create this message like an artistic scene, a beautiful blend of color and shape. Your poem is insightful and shows a deep wisdom about life. Loved it! Thank you!
Yeah, Susan, but if you wear the label “ME” and you’re you, what label can we wear? (I’m kidding, a little, here, because most of the labels in these lines are ones that fit many of us
Mom
Teacher
Wife
Friend
Co-worker.
Label after label
weighs down
those under it.
So, is it okay if we just print a bunch of nice labels with a collage of the names and share them? 🙂 )
Really, though, it the weight of the labels and the demands of living up to them all at the same time that truly can be a weight. Thanks for sharing.
Ellen Stackable, thank you for this prompt, and for allowing me to be part of Poetic Justice. An amazing organization, and amazing opportunity…
My husband had a part of his lung removed on March 31st. We thought we were finished with anxiety. After he came home, something happened—no one is sure just what—dehydration, UTI, lung infection? Pick one. We ended up back in the hospital on April 11 in the observation unit. That night, he tore out his IV, demanded to leave, and at 2 AM, I drove to the hospital and moved in with him. He stopped breathing one night, was resuscitated, and we moved to ICU, returning home on the 19th. All of this explanation is not for sympathy—but to explain how my labels have changed.
Labels
Daughter
Student
Lover
Wife
Businesswoman
Mother of three
Career-changer; student
Teacher (repeat 27 times)
Retiree (regrettably)
Covid-ee (is that a word?)
Vaccinated
Free
Wife
Next of kin
Spouse
Protector
Sleep deprived
Defender
Terrified
Numb
Widow? Please, no.
(No, thank God. Not yet.)
Grateful.
Indebted.
Believer in second chances…
Caregiver
Care.
Giver.
Caring
Giving
and giving
and giving.
Exhausted
Watchful
On my own.
Relieved Resentful
Encouraging Nagging
Hopeful Frustrated
Patient Petulant
Strong
Friend
Wife
Thankful.
Thankful.
Thankful.
gjs 4/25
Gayle,
I’m so sorry you and your husband have been enduring so much illness these past weeks. I hope he’s on the mend now and that you have many more years together. You are so right in listing the myriad labels. I also have regrets about retiring but suspect I’d have more had I not retired. That label shows how complicated labels can be. Hugs and peace to you.
Glenda—I miss teaching, but not the teaching I would have done this past year…
Gayle, your words spun me along with you, through the various roles we are labeled into, through the downs (covidee) and ups (vaccinated free) and downs (widow?) and the relieved up (No, thank God. Not yet). I appreciate that you devoted a whole stanza to care and giving and caregiving as it encompasses so much of what we do. There are so many hopeful words in your piece.
Oh Gayle, the path that you and your beloved husband have been on is one that speaks of being in the fire! I am grateful for your strength and that you remained grateful throughout, that is huge. Even when you were in the darkest places, you didn’t waiver and neither did God.
Thank God for more time to love!
❤️
Oh, Gayle – I noted your absence here, and worried something more was happening with your husband. What an ordeal you are both having. Your many labels are so spot on; the many ways in which you approach and break down the word caregiving shows the enormity of this role:
How great those last three lines – yes, thankful! Here’s to that being a more constant label in the weeks ahead.
Gayle,
Please accept this virtual hug. which I hope to one day give you in person. There is so much going on in our lives that we do not know about, cannot witness, but I feel honored that you have allowed us the privilege of knowing about this terrifying month for you. I am keenly aware that in an instant our labels can change. The word “widow” hit me hard — (No, thank God). Such powerful repetition at the end. Period.
Sarah
Gayle, your poem is so moving I am literally tearing up. I’ve been thinking about you, and am so glad you can end your poem with the word “thankful”. I feel your “giving” spirit throughout your powerful poem. Hugs and prayers to you and your husband. I hope he is recovering well.
Gayle,
I can’t imagine what you’re going through. You express the pain and confusion so well with the short staccato lines–don’t our brains just do that when we’re overwhelmed? Thank you for sharing your honest pain with us. Virtual hugs and fervent hope that your husband is on the mend.
Amazing power in your words. Gayle – especially the repetition of “wife” and where it leads your thoughts and emotions, and all the faith and gratitude. Our labels do change…we sometimes converge with them…I spent summer 2019 with my husband in the hospital feeling many of these things… my prayers remain with you!
“Believer in second chances” brought tears to my eyes.
What concerns me most about labels these days is irony and hypocrisy, so my poem is based on something that happened in March, an incident that blew up in my face after I trusted when I should not have trusted. The violation of trust produces its own labeling. I have not moved on from this incident.
Label Maker
You market yourself as a do-gooder;
You Crafted
an image
a brand
a trademark
a logo
Sewn into your identity
like a shirt-collar tag
naming fabric,
size,
care instructions:
Delicate
Colors may run
Use cold water
Gentle cycle.
You branded me untrustworthy;
You tattooed
an inscription
a label
a crest
a sign
like a graffiti tag
identifying association
guilt by membership
in a clan
of convicts
unworthy of merit
undeserving of
your oath to
seek justice.
I hold this poem up to you
like polished chrome
a mirror
a glass
a prism
a spit turning truth
into verse
spinning words
into reflections of
a facsimile
a mock
a facade of
the role you play
the drama
you mount.
—Glenda Funk
Oh, Glenda! I can feel this! These lines, ” a spit turning truth into verse, spinning words into reflections of a facsimile” are vivid, intense, visual. I admire those who move on easily (though I wonder how much they carry unseen). There’s all the unsaid that you speak to the do-gooder, the guilt by membership. I’m hoping writing this was a part of the healing to move on.
Glenda—
a spit turning truth
into verse
spinning words
into reflections of
a facsimile
a mock
a facade of
the role you play
the drama
you mount.
I would not want to be on the receiving end of this evaluation! Fierce and spot on!
Good morning! Glenda, you needed to write this poem. I remember someone once said, “If you don’t want me to write bad things about you in my book, don’t do stupid shit!” LOL so I felt that the person you are writing about deserves every word and emotion in your poem. I don’t think we should “move on” from those who break our trust. I believe THEY should move on and never bother us again. If this person isn’t worthy of your trust nor be trusted, it is just fine to be done with the person and don’t look back. This person sounds like poison.
That whole first stanza. Whew!
Steer clear, my friend. Sometimes people show us who they really are when we thought we knew. Now you know, believe it.
Oh my goodness, Glenda – I want to hear this full story so badly! I know, I know, I must mind my own business. I hope you deliver this poem to this person who has broken your trust so badly. I love these lines, so descriptive:
Wow, Glenda, the power of labels created for others and self. So much rawness here:
Wow. Your words turned to verse was important today.
Glenda, wow, I feel stunned by how cleverly you have crafted this poem and shared such an important message. It reminded me strongly of the labels I found on my son’s clothes when he came home after being in prison. “Guilt by membership” are words that echo here for me. Justice is difficult to find when we imprison people who commit victimless crimes; where self-harm and mental health are generally the underlying problem, and when we allow leaders to openly steal our nation blind. I will be carrying your amazing poem closely to my heart. Thank you!
Whoa!!! Oh my goodness this is so powerful and universal – it is a common thread situation in my husband’s family right now. I’m going to show him this – he hasn’t moved on from his similar incident, either……I’m so sorry, Glenda. I love that spit part, though. That is just great – a spit shine.
Ellen, this is a wonderful exercise that I will use with my students this week. A great way to explore how others see you and how you see yourself. “I want to peel them off” in your poem is such a tactile way to turn away from labels and be who you want to be.
My List
Someone once called me Task-Oriented
pronounced with a spit of the tongue
as if making a list, checking it off
is the worst quality of an effective teacher.
Where is compassion or kindness
on my to-do list?
Today I look again
and add Call my parents,
Write to Jan,
Read a poem,
Plant seeds
in pen & ink
Tasks
become Wishes
become Love
in a list.
First of all, Margaret, I’m dying! I literally just took a break from writing my to-do-list to read a few poems. I just love how you flipped the label to Love in a list. I’m going to remember that!
I agree with Mo. You completely flipped a negative into a list of love. How wonderful. The person, real or imagined, in your poem with the spit of the tongue clearly doesn’t know you very well. You do so much for and with people in your world.
Margaret,
Your poem reminds me of how complicated life is, teaching is, especially when dealing w/ colleagues who misinterpret our modes of doing things. They see an outward behavior w/out seeing our inner beings and how the outward task list makes room for the caring of students. Yes, a list is a physical manifestation of love.
Hi Margaret! I love it and I appreciate that you’ve listed all the loving in your life!! That makes you a task-oriented loving kind soul! Imagine if some of these icky people started listing some loving things to do and actually did them!
Bless you! Thank you for being YOU!
?
I am a to-do list person. People think I am crazy. I went back to look at my lists, and your ending has inspired me to more love to my list. Thank you for this beautiful poem.
Margaret,
So much to think about from the first lines:
And then, shifting to the beautiful lists you created for compassion, for Wishes, for Love!
Yes to it all.
Sarah
I’m a compulsive list-maker, Margaret – I cracked my husband up once when I explained that I was making a list of lists I needed to make. I never thought of lists as containing love…but now I see every nurturing thing you added and that lists are actually containers of thoughts and time and care and tending-to… not simply tasks, but things too important to be forgotten, for those in my care. How freeing this is – free to keep loving lists which in their own way are freeing (don’t have to carry all that stuff around in your head) and in rising above negativity with reflection and care, including that of self. Perspective is everything.
Margaret, thank you for validating the list. I’m one who will write it after it’s done to check it off to create momentum for tackling the next thing….great way to think of all of our lists as a part of our love language.
Ellen, thank you for offering a cathartic process this morning, a Sun day. It was meditative and gave us a chance to think of rebirths. The visuals you offer in the “heavy, sticky, and ugly” peeled off to reveal “laughter, running, wind, stars” are powerful and share hope – a perfect spring re-awakening.
Sticks and Stones
I wear my labels
in lines around my eyes,
in wintered threads
coursing through brown strands
given me before birth,
in frown lines
down lines,
sticks and stone markers
breaking bones,
shreds and tatters,
strips and rags,
written like epitaphs,
stitched into seams.
I hear my labels
in whispers
spoken sideways
behind schoolgirl hands,
shouted from street corners
like newsboys hawking wares,
names meant to hurt me,
define me,
design me.
I say my labels
in mantra chants,
incantations,
a constant melody
played on repeat,
background noise,
static
fuzzy
grey matter.
I change my labels
slipping into
my own designs
like a pair
of comfortable sweats.
I rewrite my labels,
coloring greys
and scrubbing lines,
I scrawl signatures,
splash colors,
etch
and stitch
ragdolls into Cinderellas.
names will never hurt me
Jennifer, I really like the movement in your poem. This one feels like spoken word poetry to me. I love all the color play. Well done.
Jennifer,
There’s so much irony and pain in your poem: “I wear my labels…I hear my labels…I say my labels.” These days so much, but the most important are “I change my labels…I rewrite my labels.” These give hope and peace. I glad you ended w/ these. Beautiful poem.
Jennifer, the emotional sweep of this poem is incredible. I never thought of the labels of eye wrinkles or frown lines….but gosh, I wear those too. I want to turn ragdolls into Cinderellas.
Ragdolls into Cinderellas…lines around my eyes…frown lines/down lines. Just a few of so many beautiful lines. This makes me feel better about MY labels…
I love the transitions labels take in your poem, from being hurtful to being courageously said to yourself, as mantras:
Jennifer,
I love the metaphor pulled through here:
The agency you embrace, take in creating your own quilt in the final lines is stunning. I love the etch and stitch. So much power in the crafting and healing.
Sarah
Jennifer – from start to finish, your beautiful, lyrical poem speaks to the stories and experiences we carry with us, as well as to the choices we make and our own transformative power. From lines on the face to broken bones to shreds and tatters…to creating, to artistry, to “names will never hurt me” – in a word: power.
Jennifer, I’m loving the rag doll to Cinderella transformation! That is a wonderful way to take charge of the label – making the perception the most important on the end of how the person sees herself and not others! I like this authorship of the label!
Ellen, this is a deeply compelling prompt, opening up so many avenues for reflection. I was intrigued by the way you took a specific event that sparked your own – “down to the quick I abrade” – and how you found “the possible, the hopeful, the what-might-be labels.” Out of those moments of horror, reaching in and finding the desire to heal and rise, to overcome the things within that weigh a person down – incredibly valuable. Much to ponder about defining and redefining ourselves, as long as we live…which is, in itself, so hopeful.
I began thinking about actual peel-able labels and my ongoing struggle with them, when a memory returned. Thank you for this specific invitation to write and for all of the vital restorative work that you do.
Label Liberation
Labels
never stick to my clothing
as they’re meant to
the edges curl up
to snag my long hair
pulling out strands
the whole thing
scrolls into itself
obscuring whatever pronouncement
of who or what I am
to any given audience
funny how I just now recall
a nametag, long ago
when I was four or five
visiting a Sunday School class
at Grandma’s church
I think it was in the shape of
an animal
maybe a fish
not sure
attached to my new
lavender-and-white
checkered dress
with a straight pin
until
I threw up, without warning
and was rushed to
the commode
where my nametag fell in
I cried for it
and was told
it doesn’t matter now
it is ruined
the teacher was much more concerned
over my stained dress
but that was my identity
being flushed away
a facet of myself,
lost
so now I wonder
if my offended little-child aura
decided then and there
that henceforth,
no label should ever
stick again
that would explain a lot
that could never fit
on finite piece of paper
anyway
Fran, what a way to take a childhood event, one so defining, and show us the strength you (we) have deep inside that allows us to overcome. I love the thread of the label (I’m seeing it as the fish it might have been swimming in the commode or flushed once dead) and the shift from name tag to finite paper. Beautifully envisioned for us.
I love how you write about your life in such sensory detail that I am part of the story. I am in the Sunday School class and seeing my own label fall in the toilet.
Wow, Fran! What amazing recall you have of a childhood event! Your images are striking and really pulled me in. Your piece seems so reflective.
This is an origin story of sorts…the origin of non-sticky labels? Ha! It’s a great story with deeper meaning. Love that “little child aura decided then and there that henceforth,” What a great storytelling vibe.
Wow, Fran! Your word choices pulled me through the story ( I, too, have those long trailing hairs…) and placed me in that bathroom. What good are labels, anyway!?
Fran, oh my gosh, your poem is riveting. I love how you open and develop this narrative to reveal such an incredible message.
Sheer genius! Love it!
Fran, you took us on this trip straight into the bathroom to see the flush and feel the sadness right beside you! Your title is so revealing, too, the liberation at a young age from labels.
Ellen,
Thank you for hosting us today! I attended the Zoom workshop with you and Penny Kittle. Yo When I am done, I take out the possible,
the hopeful, the what-might-be labels
and I look at them.
They have been there, intact the whole time. you work miracles in what your do! This part of your poem reminds me of three things that abideth – faith, hope, and love – and the greatest of these is love:
A Revelation Haiku
In middle Georgia
a farm was named as a joke
but oh, there is truth!
Now for the first time
I understand the reason
no one ever laughs.
Kin, your revelation haiku begs a question (what is the name? but the mystery is powerful). It is haunting in what it DOES reveal – that while there’s a grain of truth in a joke, the joke is often hurtful and not at all funny. Someone – maybe many someones – pay a price for it. Like Linda, you say so much in so few words. What is unsaid even speaks, loudly.
Kim* -!!
Kim, like Fran, I want to know the name, but leaving us to imagine adds to the weight of the joke. That last stanza hangs, sobering. It recognizes that jokes linger long after they are told. And that those first times can happen again and again.
Your revelation rings true. Some jokes are not jokes at all. And perhaps are better left unsaid.
Kim, what a gentle but firm reminder that our words matter! Lovely.
Oh, my the truth hurts! I love the serious discovery at the end…nice twist.
Kim,
This left me in deep mystery but it also allowed me to understand the true concept of the joke and its entirety. hearing the repetition of the joke in your head just allows you to break it down a little more and see why such humor is laughable. I enjoyed your haiku
Mysterious! I want to know the name, I want to know the namer – was it purposefully chosen…love this twist on labels – ‘but oh, there is truth!”
What a beautiful poem! Dear Ellen, I’m so glad you are joining us today to bring attention to Poetic Justice. How difficult it must be for the women in prison during the pandemic. I love the idea and the practice of writing as healing. Your poem has such a hopeful direction. Of course, laughter was there all along with running and joy and stars etc. How easy it is to forget when I get busy and frustrated.
I aimed to say a lot with a few words this morning.
I wear a Hello! My Name is
sticker
all
day
one
sticker
one
dimensional
label
sticker
too small to fit all hellos my name really holds
Linda – I just posted my poem and now I see yours and a common theme with what a label is not able to convey! What strikes me here is that you concentrate on “all the hellos” – an embracing of others, a continuous welcoming – and I know this is so true of you. You absolutely say so much with these few words.
Hello, Linda! What a beautiful way to embrace a label and labelling. I feel as if I’ve met you here. You’ve taken that one dimensional sticker and given us a warm hug of greeting. Love it!
Ah, the skinny form works well for “all the hellos” your name holds.
Linda, this is terrific! There is so much packed into your last line. I will think about your poem when I meet a new person wearing a name tag.
Linda,
I love this. Those name stickers often include an “I’m from” addendum, and when people see “Idaho” they judge. They label. “one / sticker / one / dimensional / label.” That’s how the world reduces people. I’ll be thinking about your poem a long time.
Love how your poem resembles a sticker with its one word limitations – yes, “too small to fit all hellos my name really holds”
Linda, those Hello My Name Is stickers cannot possibly capture all the you in you! I love what you’ve done here!