Our Host
Hanna Al-Jibouri is a teacher in Tulsa, OK. She has a Bachelors in English/Creative Writing with a minor in Gender Studies from Hendrix College and a Masters in Teaching and Literacy. She is the Board President and volunteer for the nonprofit Poetic Justice who works with people who are incarcerated in women’s prisons. Hanna believes wholly in disrupting and dismantling oppressive systems within the educational sector and the criminal justice world through the power of voice and writing.
Inspiration
I continually ask myself the question, “Who do I want to become?” and then work towards whoever that ever-evolving person may be that day. I acknowledge and then forgive myself for mistakes, disappointments, and missed chances. I celebrate my successes and joys.
This year, in that question asking, I decided something I needed to do was set some work-home boundaries. I knew I needed to do something because with the stressors of 2020, my anxiety was at an all time high, I was struggling with sleep and my workaholic tendencies were not satisfying me in ways I felt they once did.
I committed to leaving work promptly at 3:15 when my contract time ends. Yes, I still take work home with me, but at least I am doing it from my comfy couch cuddled up with my dog. I prioritized my health, both physical and mental, by building an exercise and healthy eating routine.
However, in asking “who do I want to become?” I knew I wanted to continue to be a person who firmly believes in balance. I still ordered a LOT of Girl Scout Cookies and will binge watch an entire Netflix series in one weekend if I so please.
Anis Mojgani is a poet I have loved since I was in high school and he’s one of the few artists I am not embarrassed of loving so much and I actually enjoy his work even more now, I’d say.
The closing lines of his slam poem “Here am I” really resonate with me all the time, but in particular are great with this process I shared with you: “Will I be something? Am I something? And the answer comes: already am, always was, and I still have time to be”
Here’s a link to the full poem (check it out, seriously, it’s good and high schoolers love it too.)
Process
> Consider the question, “Who do I want to become” and let your brainstorm of ideas fill up a page to get you thinking.
> After looking at your brainstormed ideas, try to pinpoint 1-3 images that can be used as metaphor to bring this message of the Future You to life
> Write your poem about who you want to become, including those metaphors. No rhyme or reason should hold your structure and style back here. Anything goes.
Original Poem
Who I Will Become
My anxiety is beautiful
I am a sage bundle of manifestations
Where the flame never quite goes out
I will become the tangled wires
Of Christmas lights stuffed in a box
Ready for next November to
Turn its page on the calendar
I will become whoever I am supposed to be
And my hair will continue to fall on my shoulders,
Tired, like a gust of wind
After a tornado
I don’t want to forget the old versions
Of me — scrawled across faded notebooks
And cross stitches of my embarrassing
Teenage years and black fingernails
Of used to be love stories.
I will become
Something untold
But the last line of the library check out card
Full and ready for
Its new side
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.
I was under the weather and missed yesterday, so here is my attempt after the fact!
Hanna, thank you for the great inspiration and the wonderful mentor poem. I really like these lines:
The Next Generation
I want to become
a grey-haired grandma
baking cookies with
my grandkids after dinner
then snuggling in on the couch
to watch Parent Trap and
old Veggie Tales and
Barney episodes.
I want to tuck them in bed
upstairs in their mom’s or dad’s
old bedrooms
read them book after book
after book then
say prayers and
give the best hugs and kisses.
I want to be awakened by their
little pitter-patters rather
than an alarm clock or
hot flashes.
We will make their favorite breakfast
or make a trip to the bakery
for Doughnie Sundays.
I want them to nestle in the pew
between us looking in curiosity
at the crucifix the same way
their mom or dad did.
I want to be engaged and active,
doing the grandma things that
grandmas do.
I don’t want to just sit in the bleachers
in random towns
watching them compete in sports
that they are probably too young to.
I want to be the kind of grandma
I never got and really that our kids
never did either.
Homey
Loving
Sacrificing
Child-centered
I want to become all that I wish I had been
and all that I can still be.
~Susan Ahlbrand
27 April 2021
Knock, knock
By: Emily Yamasaki
When injustice knocks
I hold my breath
Brace for impact
Choke back tears
When injustice knocks
I know right from wrong
I practice it daily
Most days, I think I do it right
When injustice knocks
I am not first to answer
Telling myself what I used to hear:
Mind your business
When injustice knocks
I want to shout back
Slam the door
Walk the talk
When injustice knocks
I need to fight
Stand up, Rise up
No look backs
When injustice knocks
I will use what my mama gave me
To be more than what my mama gave me.
Emily, what an anthem for fighting injustice. Thank you for this powerful poem. Knock, Knock is a surprising title that makes us sit up and take notice. I love this one most of all:
Emily, I love the progression in your poem. It’s not always easy to do the right thing, and you e shown that perfectly. The last stanza is wonderful.
Emily – The voice of strength is so clear in this poem. With each repeated line it is as if you, indeed, grow bigger as a force and more mighty. The ending line is perfect, and that image is a giant! Marvelous poem. Thank you for this poem of leadership. Injustice needs each of us needs to and must hear that knocking! Susie
Hanna, I love “sage bundle of manifestations” – I can see it, smell it, feel it. Lovely image and also the black nail polish of adolescence and the new side of the library card. Love the poem! My thoughts are very disorganized these days and it shows in my writing. Maybe I will come back to this poem and work on form someday. When I made my list I was watching a show and the people were talking about wanting to be alive for their children’s children and at the rate I’m going with not exercising much and not eating well, well that’s not likely. Anyway…a bit of motivation for myself.
Healthy and Alive
the blood in veins
pulses teal up and down
faster as sweat beads out
from pores and jump
and run and jump
and run and jump and
run and lunge and squat
and lunge and squat
and shed the extra layers
around the belly and the heart
and don’t give up and
and remember to breathe
and drink lots of water
with a rainbow plate of
well-portioned food and
green juice will cleanse
the streams to the soul
and create a long life to spend
with the people I love and
will love for many years.
Hi Angie! this feels like a kind of stream-of-consciousness exercise poem to me. The activity makes me feel like I’m bouncing off the walls, which I like. Let me know how this works out for you, then I’ll start exercising!
Angie, what a great introduction to your poem, which helped me appreciate it much more. blood “pulses teal” made me look down at my wrist. Yes, indeed! It does–what a great description. The run and jump and lunge segment really shows the importance of keeping with it, so you can:
A great poem to inspired many of us!
I’ve been thinking about it all day and I think put too much pressure on myself to make decisions. This is certainly not my favorite poem I’ve written during our verselove challenge, but I’m glad I wrote it. I love the prompt, Hanna, and thank you for the invitation. I’ll give it a go some other time! I’d say this poem is still in the “brainstorming” stage, haha!
I want to become
someone who didn’t just write four partial
poems —
Ripped up fragments
of futures that could be mine
but instead
they’re littering cyberspace
floating to the outermost edges
like tumbleweeds
I want to become
an artist who can
draw a straight
and bold line
between work
and home.
I want to become
a carpenter
manifesting projects
2 by 4 by 2 by 4
making clean cuts
piece after piece after piece
Rachelle,
Having four unfinished poems is something I never thought I would have, but as I told you about it having to me last week. I am so glad you powered through and wrote a poem today.
Rachelle,
I know you’re not happy with it, but there is so much good in this! Your middle stanza is something I still haven’t mastered–
Lovely!
Rachelle, I relate 100% to your opening comments. The pleasure (and pain) of writing a poem for 30 days straight is the acceptance that we will write some poems we don’t love.
That said, I loved your poem! You might not be satisfied with it yet, but this has bones, as they say!
“Ripped up fragments
of futures that could be mine” loved that! And also the rhythm and intentionality of “2 by 4 by 2 by 4
making clean cuts
piece after piece after piece”
You have such a poet ear/eye/heart. I love your words.
Rachelle, I think you have an awesome poem here. I love how it progresses to something that is solid and specific and is building something that will be definitely one of your own creation. The first stanza was easy to visualize, imagining all of these words and thoughts like pieces of paper floating in cyberspace. Incredible poem even if you’re not feeling its where you want it to be right now.
I love the the bold image of the artist drawing a line between work and home. I’ll have to imagine this artist after work this week.
Hanna, Thank you so much for this thoughtful prompt. I am 61, heading toward the denouement of my teaching career, increasingly thinking of winding down my life. “What I want to become” I realized tonight has transitioned to “What do I want to leave behind?” I very much enjoyed my writing time tonight. Your prompt gave me permission to think about posterity. Thank you.
You know when
you’re digging through a drawer
looking for a AA battery
or a birthday candle
or a safety pin?
and your fingers
rub across
a salmoned tenpenny coin
from a trip to Ireland years ago?
In that moment
you see
the hedged roads
sheep grazing
hear the lilt
of memory
tinkling?
I don’t know what I can still become.
Perhaps my dear ones,
as their
fingers of thought
touch the
heft of battery
brief candle
pinprick
or smooth coin,
will think on me.
I will have become a memory;
may it be an Irish road.
Oh, Allison. Yes, I too want to be an Irish road that my dear ones remember and
when they run across my memories.
Wow, this is masterful and lifting and oh, such a beautiful metaphor.
(I always look forward to my mornings here the next day after you have written!)
Allison, what a beautiful poem. I love the tight images and the brief look into stories I want to know more about. This poem is peaceful and melancholy all at once. Thank you for this today <3
Allison,
I love the image of your memory popping up unexpected and unbidden. What a lovely gift of a way to be forever in hearts!
Such a lovely poem, Allison, the idea of your memory being an Irish road. Your images are very beautiful. Thank you.
Allison, I love how you invite the reader into your poem to connect with the common day experiences we all share, and then how you connect this to the memory you want to become. Your last line is so melodic, beautiful, and memorable. What a glorious image to end with. Fantastic poem!
Ahhhh, what a beauty to be remembered in the…
That’s truly special. I love this because I miss digging in my mother’s junk drawers and asking her about all the things that held memories for her.
You are definitely one who will be remembered for more than an Irish road.
Allison – Holy mackerel, this is gorgeous! I wish I’d written this and had that drawer open and my finger rubbing over that coin. How simply beautiful. To be the tenpenny in your children’s drawer… dang, that is an exquisite thought. Your cycling back to the “battery brief candle” … soooo well crafted! This poem is a primer… I want to save this poem… utterly publishable… and now in my drawer to remind me of Allison who is an Irish road that looks a bit like a ribbon road of corn and beans in Iowa..where there’s a friend riding a unicycle and playing an accordion…. you’ll always be in my drawer. Thank you. Susie
I was not a pixie
With hair like the cupule
Nestled on the acorn.
I was not Dorothy Hamill
With that cute wedge
Sailing above the ice.
I definitely was not Farrah
With wisps feathered outward
Like the mane of a lioness.
I am not curls or color or cuts.
I am streaks of silver,
An accumulation of years.
And when a single ray
Of morning sunlight
Catches me by surprise,
I glow.
Katrina, This poem is a gem! I looked up “cupule”–what a great word! I recognized (and attempted to wear) each of the styles you described. I adored the acceptance you bring to your final stanza. ME TOO! Let’s celebrate our streaks of silver, the morning light. our glow. Bravo!
I love the way you formatted this poem and the dedication to hairstyles. I think that is so cool. I love the last stanza and the final “I glow”
Katrina, what a great image of different kinds of hair today. I had to look up cupule in your first stanza–what a great image of the cap on the acorn. (I had a pixie haircut for four years, during my tweens and totally looked like a boy.) The Dorothy Hamill and Farah Fawcett images of hair are iconic and so beautiful described–her wedge “sailing above the ice” and Farah “like the mane of a lioness”
But this is my favorite:
I love the positivity and being in awe of your own self in the last stanza:
“I glow” is such a great ending <3
Katrina, I love how your poem progresses here. I could relate to all of your references to famous women with wonderful hairdos. Your end though is such an uplifting end. “I glow”…sheer perfection. Wonderful self-affirmation here. Beautiful and real!
Thankful for all that you ARE!
?
Wow, all! I’ve truly loved scrolling these poems and thoughts you all have so bravely shared today. Thank you so much for interacting and engaging with my prompt and seeing the heart of it. Thank you Sarah for hosting such a fun and community building place for us to all meet together. I’m grateful and humbled by all of you! Happy writing!
Thank you, Hanna, for the introspective prompt. I had an idea in mind, I’m not sure it worked, but hey, trying new things is good, right?
A spider’s web gradually forms as I grow and
years pass.
Long threads of consistency are made from what
feeds my soul–
the times when there was more than just a gossamer strand strung
between two points.
At times things got caught in the web, wrapped in a cocoon of fiber until I knew
how to disentangle them–
I kept some, discarded others even when they rent my web. Some people believed they knew best the composition of my future,
but they were diversions, detours in determining my fate. Even when you think
you know how something is
going to go, you don’t. Winds blow, branches fall, accidents happen,
distances are
miscalculated and all must be reconstructed from scratch.
Now, I know
how I want the lace of my life to be, full of strong
choices,
made by me, filled with experiences and
people
who understand the labyrinthine
construction
of a life well lived.
I want
to be the creator
of my
own destiny.
Wow, great metaphor of a spider web.
You have done a wonderful job spinning the spider web you want and not the one others want for you.
Cara, I like the way this worked! The ebb and flow of the actual structure of the poem well mimic a web. You made me think about life, decisions, and spiders differently. Thanks for prompting that. Well done!
Cara, your poem is filled with voice and heart. I first highlighted “distances are
miscalculated’: so true. I was compelled by your web metaphor. I cheer you on as the creator of your own destiny!
Cara, what an amazing metaphor. Love the complexity of the web you are weaving. I especially enjoyed the lines:
. Your end is incredibly powerful! Wishing you safe travels as you create your own destiny!
So much truth in these lines:
It gets truer for me as I get older. Maybe that’s how it always goes. Lovely poem, Cara.
I want to be the comfy couch
Hugging away the day’s weariness
And offering support as needed
I want to be the wind that blows gently
Propelling fall leaves across the forest floor
Into their new lives providing protection to unseen species
I want to be the Bluetooth speaker
Blasting joy throughout the house
Encouraging my husband to paint faster
I want to be the lioness who roars mightily
Baring her teeth menacingly
At any threats to her or her family
I want to be the dawn hour
Allowing for quiet and calm
Before the madness of the day begins
These are fabulous metaphors, Mo! I’m particularly loving the Bluetooth speaker, “Blasting joy throughout the house/Encouraging my husband to paint faster” – that cracked me up!
Mo,
This is lovely and so full of great imagery! I particularly like your last stanza,
As it brings the poem to a soft and gentle resolution. Beautiful!
Mo,
So many great things to be with the wonderful meanings behind them.
These lines really resonated with me as I a currently lounging in my reclining sofa!
Mo, I love all the comforting things you want to be here. Love the beautify of the fall leaves and the power of the lioness, a nice juxtaposition of not only offering comfort but also safety. Gorgeous poem! I personally love the peace of an early morning calm.
I love the repetition. As I read each stanza, a new image would float across my mind. I love the these lines so much:
I love this prompt and plan to revisit it when I have time for more introspection. This is all I got tonight.
I want to be less
of knotted worries and stress
More “smell the roses”
YES me too! Exactly. I love the cohesive image in this poem, from “knotted” to “roses.” And the rhyme with “less” and “stress.” Simple but beautiful constructed!
I am impressed that you were able to form a sweet haiku in the midst of all the stress. This is great!
Tammi,
YES!! At work, at home, and even while driving my car.
? ? ?
Tammi,
I love this. I’m tightly wound so feel deeply the sentiment in this brief verse.
Tammi, I am clapping for you! I loved “knotted worries” and “I want to be less”–YES! Let us be LESS!
You showed up today. Bravo!
Tammi, I really paused after reading your first line. The idea of being less is so utterly appealing to me today! I felt like you were giving me permission to not have to do it all today ,and I’m here for it. But when I read on, I just thought YES! You’ve hit the nail on the head with this one!
Spirit
I’ll be there,
Your gentle blow
Above the surface
Of hot morning java
I’ll be there,
Your inspiration
While you compose
New lover’s lyrics
I’ll be there,
Your held count-of-5
Before the chime
Tings a slow release
I’ll be there
Your subtle whisper
After your tender heart
Grows weary
I’ll be there,
Your inhale
As lavender
Invites you to rest
I’ll be there,
Your exhale
When it’s your time
To ascend
©Stacey L. Joy, April 26, 2021
Ooooo, Stacey — I want you “there” when it’s my time! What a transcending sense these moments are. The sense of timing…. the chime and the wait of “slow release”…dang, that’s grand. The tone of “spirit” is very real here…almost wispy… it feels other-worldly. Beautiful images, beautiful you! Hugs, Susie
Thank you, my dear! I had tears in my eyes when I finished this one. Came out of nowhere! I have been feeling my friend’s presence more than usual, her birthday is a week away. It’s been 2 years since she passed and it seems like I still see and hear her. That’s why I wrote this today. I believe our loved ones who leave us live on in every breath.
Stacey, this is filled with meditative wonder – “I’ll be there”! Such a perfect repetition. Delightful.
Stacey, I think there must be no other comfort more reassuring than knowing someone will be there to see a friend across the finish line as they transition. Blessings to you as you celebrate and remember the life of your friend!
– Kim Johnson
Stacey — This is beautiful. Your last stanza: “I’ll be there/your exhale/when it’s your time/to ascend” is so poignant. Your construction, repetition and word choice makes this poem feel like a caress of love or the feeling one gets from a guardian angel’s presence.
Stacey,
I’m in awe of your presence here, of the meditative imagery in the quiet whisper of your poem, of your grace and kindness.
Stacey, you had me feeling like I was at my yoga class at first, but then that shift brought me right back to being with my brother and sister as they took their last breaths. That moment is so intense, but you’ve made it just beautiful. That exhale and ascension at the end are pure perfection. You are leaving me with tears in my eyes tonight. Hugs to you, friend!
I had to reread this poem a few times. The beauty is in its simplicity – I love how authentically “stripped down” each line is, but the love and emotion is so deep. Thank you for sharing this with us today!
I’m not sure who I want to be, but enjoy this Where I’m From poem I wrote in January.
I’m not sure where I’m going
For I have not been placed yet.
But wherever I’m going
I’m going FEARLESSLY; bravely with intention and purpose
I’m going with the hope
that all things work for my good
I’m going with the belief
that I can do anything I put my mind to
I’m going with the confidence
that I am competent and capable for all that comes my way
I’m not sure where I’m going
For I have not been placed yet.
But wherever I’m going
WORLD, WATCH OUT! Because, I’m going places.
Donnetta Norris January 17, 2021
Everyone should be able to embrace the fire and power you have given us here today! I am not one for seeking change and it’s just because comfort is easy. However, when I know it’s time, I’m right there with you…WORLD, WATCH OUT!
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What a strong voice, Donnetta! There’s a sort of cadence in the power of your voice in this poem. The going places repeated at the end hits with a wallop! Very cool! Thank you! Susie
Yes, such power in your words!! Beautiful. My favorite line is: “I’m going FEARLESSLY; bravely with intention and purpose”. This describes who you want to be to me – the type of character you want to have seems almost more important than your future destination / position. Thanks for sharing this.
Donnetta — I love the balance power:
“I’m going FEARLESSLY; bravely with intention and purpose”
and hope
“I’m going with the hope
that all things work for my good”
These feels like an anthem!
This is the perfect poetic response to who to be – where you are from! I love the capitalization – that you are going FEARLESSLY, and WORLD, WATCH OUT! That is fierce determination!
buckled into a high chair
she wiggles and squirms
stretching, reaching, testing
the limits of her body
her pink, dimpled fingers grab
for keys, napkins, straws, masks
turning each item over and over
as her eyes (and mouth)
carefully inspect
applesauce misses her mouth
smearing across her face
as she turns to beam
at the couple sitting behind her
who smile back, waving
to their audacious new friend
tucked back in the car
she sucks on a pacifier
letting her eyes droop shut
to the engine’s gentle growl
when I grow up, I want to be
like my ten month old daughter
Rachel,
So appreciate the slow and careful observation, the wonder of this precious being “tucked in the back in the car.” And I think about this:
The “letting” is so wonderful. How in comfort and safety and love, your child can sleep, and I wonder about the spaces where we, as adults, feel that safety. That complete comfort of being because that is being loved.
Peace,
Sarah
Oh, Rachel, I love your poem’s final lines, and I hear the love and tenderness in your voice. Gorgeous poem!
Rachel, may I please be your ten month old daughter?????? I love this for its tender sweet mother’s adoration and careful knowing of her sweet baby girl. So very precious. I hope you save this some place special for her to read when she’s a teen and getting on your nerves. LOL.
It is truly remarkable to watch a baby observe and inspect every thing/body they encounter.
Thank you for sharing this special poem!
Rachel — love these images of your daughter, especially “applesauce misses her mouth/smearing across her face” and then when her “eyes droop shut/to the engine’s gentle growl” — just precious. I want to be that young again too without a care in the world.
I can truly visualize her eating and delighting in the applesauce…I adore your ending,
our babies teach us to savor the world. Love love love your poem!
If Only I Could Be…
…the scree of the kestrels high in the oak,
…the mmm-mmm over chicken soup after our walk in the cold rain,
…the aroma of a puffed brioche straight from the oven
(Chanel would want to bottle me and call me No.1, and you’d slather me like butter),
…choreographed by hummingbirds and Alvin Ailey,
…the velvet voice that pauses all the clatter to let you exhale,
…winging with the wood storks on thermal currents,
…lifted with the monarchs in migration,
…melted slowly with dark chocolate and vanilla paste,
…the rich indigo of the bunting that flits in the understory,
…the ooh-hoo-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha of the Kookaburra perched on your roof-line,
…the moment between your last sigh on the pillow and your sleep,
if only.
by Susie Morice, April 26, 2021©
Susie!
I love the parenthetical intrusion of Chanel – -you made me smile, giggle. I request a poem of parentheticals.
And I love the images one after the other that take me to feature of being here: choreographed, lifted, melted — there is a trust in allowing hummingbirds, monarchs, and chocolates to move the speaker. I am wondering about access and the ways we offer and restrict access to others, permission to be lifted. I am thinking about how you all here are my monarchs this month lifting me up!
Peace,
Sarah
Susie, lordy, you have such a stunning, beautiful poem here with so many images, sounds, and smells to savor. I had to chuckle at your brioche and Channel #1 line…very funny and it reminds me of the poem you wrote earlier this month. I adore all of the savory tastes and the sounds of birds. This poem really makes the reader slow down to take in each line. I love how you framed this poem, and that second to last line is absolutely divine
Susie, whenever I read Susie Morice, I think if only I were Susie and could write like Susie – your if only’s are beautifully chosen for their sensory images. I love the puffed brioche, Chanel’s claim on you, the wood storks on currents, and most especially that moment just after a sigh and before a sleep. But it’s your last two words that cinch it fully tight- they sigh with a hint of longing, they bring us back to the reality, the hang on to their dreams. Beautiful.
Dang! I wish I had read this before I wrote my poem today. Then I would’ve written:
“I Want to Be Soooooozie Someday”
What a gifted poet you are.
I would also be just fine being…
But I’ll pass on your pretty birds. LOL you know me. I love your poem for all of its deliciousness!
?
Wow, Susie there are so many exquisite sensory images here — “the scree of the kestrels high in the oak”, “melted slowly with dark chocolate and vanilla paste” and that last sentence …”the moment between your last sigh on the pillow and your sleep” Just beautiful!
I would love to be slathered in buttered brioche! Ha! Such a fun poetic thought! You have so many wonderful combinations in this poem, Susie – hummingbirds and Alvin Ailey? They both are extraordinary dancers. And this yummy delight – “melted slowly with dark chocolate and vanilla paste” . . . that you have recognized these as possibilities, however fantastic and improbable, offers great joy of what could be.
Hannah, I enjoyed reading how you established personal goals to deal with the challenges of your personal life. Loved your poem and especially the line “I don’t want to forget the old versions”. Thank you for your prompt today.
Fire Dreams
I want to be gasoline
poured onto a single flame
to ignite a furious fire
burn out of control
flicker radiantly
yellow purple blue
be like Phoenix
build my own pyre;
clap my wings
start my own fire; rise anew
to right all wrongs;
to become brand new
Barb Edler
26 April 2021
Barb — Holy Moses — This is truly a poem on fire, and it is fabulous! “Be the gasoline” — WOW! Yes! I love this. “Burn out of control…purple blue” — ooooo! The image of Phoenix …clapping the wings… gee whiz, this is so vivid and “fired” up! To become new! Dang! Seriously, a marvelous poem! A rebirth poem. A wow poem. Write more of these! Whoohoo! Susie
Barb, loved this for its intensity! Beautiful word choice.
Oh, Barb! This is fierce and powerful and glorious in its becoming and its purpose. That the rise anew is for righting wrongs, and I wonder how we can be a phoenix without burning up.
Sarah
Barb, you have claimed it! I love the energy and vibrancy, the fervor and command you capture in the fire and the Phoenix. That idea of building your own pyre is fantastic. I am cheering you on, fanning the flames! Wow!
Barb — Love the power which exudes from this poem and your ending with the allusion to the Phoenix & rebirth spreads hope.
Oh my, Barb! I wonder /hope that Phoenix can control the fire it starts,
You have included so many great and poignant fire words; very powerful poem!
Oh wow. Just wow. This poem is fierce. You have blended fire imagery and allusion at a burning pace. Your poem burns. I want to burn with you. Start again.
Barb,
I’m right there in that fire w/ you. Sometimes I want to burn ? the “the house” ? down and rise like a Phoenix from the flames. I imagine your poem resonating w/ all who see the absence of structural integrity in corrupt systems. There’s a sense of justice sparking from the flames ? in your words, and I’m here for it.
This is an amazing poem. Such imagery. Wow – I love the 2nd stanza.
“…rise anew, to right all the wrongs; to become brand new.” Love this.
What do I want to be…
What do I want to be when I grow up?
Kind, friendly, considerate
Caring, tender, affectionate
What do I want people to remember about me?
Compassionate, empathetic, understanding
Thoughtful, contemplative, meditative
What do I want to be when I grow up?
Supportive, encouraging, protective
Sympathetic, comforting, consoling
What do I want people to remember about me?
Respectful, gallant, reverent
Gracious, tenderhearted, merciful
DeAnna,
I really like your use of bold to signal the question and answer, the call and response here. And I love that the responses are in lists of qualities and ways of being. It is not a thing or product or outcome but an existence. Fabulous.
Sarah
DeAnna,
This is a fun way to do this–a bit of a call and response or kirtan of a poem. And you are already all of these things. <3
I love your many varied adjectives that are, in so many ways, echoing the same honorable qualities – you want to be and be remembered as a good soul.
DeAnna, I like the repetition of the questions, the listing of the qualities, and the genuine approach to the prompt. I believe you are all these things. I like how you kind of tricked the reader because typically adults ask younger kids “what do you want to be when you grow up?” and we only look at an outcome or a profession. We often don’t look inwards. Thanks for this poem today!
Hanna, thank you for today’s prompt. I really enjoyed your “library check out card” image in your mentor poem! And I second your love of Anis Mojgani’s poetry. His “Shake the Dust” is so so good!
______________________________
This will not be
insightful or
particularly
meaningful
to anyone
but me,
but I find that
I have a problem
with the question,
What do you
want to be
when you grow
up?
Up until now, I
really didn’t think
much about it.
I mean, I didn’t know
then (when asked)
nor do I (really)
know now.
Now, it seems to
me that it’s
kinda missing
the point, seeing
the forest for
the trees (or
maybe the
opposite of
that — I was
never very
clear on what
that expression
actually meant
anyway).
Anyways, it seems
to me to be a
mood thing. I
don’t like the
subjunctive air
about it.
It seems to focus
on what you wish
or imagine for some
distant future that
doesn’t exist yet.
Yet, we don’t live
in the future. We
live in the present,
in the now.
Now is the place
for state of being
verbs, now is the
What do I want
to be?
be a better husband
a better son
a better brother
be a better friend
a better teacher
a better poet
be a better person
Personally, I want to
live in the present,
the now, and leave
tomorrow for
another day.
Scott,
? ? ? this ??
“I find that
I have a problem
with the question,
What do you
want to be
when you grow
up?”
Clever reference to the subjunctive mood, which I love and think everyone should learn since I had to learn it! Also love
“Now is the place
for state of being
verbs,”
and the list of what you want to be in the now.
I love this, Scott!
Scott,
YES!!! I never really knew how to answer this question when I was growing up. Sadly I still ask the question, but most of the time I let them know, I don’t know is an expectable answer. It never felt okay to say that when I was asked.
Thank you for sharing you poem today.
Scott,
This is so perfect since most people change careers multiple times in their lives. We (me included) always ask students that loaded question and should be asking, “what’s your plan for the next few years?” I am a weirdo and have been in the same career since college, but still there are other things (outside my career) I want to be. Your final stanza expresses this perfectly:
Scott — It is fun to walk along with you while you wrestle with the future, the now of this piece. I tossed back and forth with this today as well, while I was planting and digging outside….at my age, it was a bit of a conundrum for me… it seemed to push me to think I was not happy with the now so that the tomorrow would somehow rectify the now. That bothered me. I hear your internal (now quite external, since it’s right here) argument loud and clear. That you ditched the “become” and went for the “be” makes darned good sense to me. As always, you have such a provocative voice! Thank you! Susie
I never thought you’d join me in this panel
or be alongside me here.
After crossing my path
day after day, she finally
found a way to
disconnect.
As a single-pole switch,
single-pole throw, only one
hot wire can be connected
and you, my friend, are wired-in
connected. It’s an
ON
OFF
existence.
All she has to do is flip the lever,
your spring loaded metal gate
closes the electrical circuit
that haunts her dreams,
whispers doubt,
casts the past —
and she can sleep.
So welcome to the toggle lifestyle!
Imagine what she can do
when she is rested? But
who will she become without
dreams?
*just playing with the idea of my mind being a light switch
Sarah, I love your light switch play! That second stanza comes alive – “and you my friend are wired-in connected. It’s an ON OFF existence” is a wonderful play on words. There’s such personality and voice there, which comes on strong again at the end – “Imagine what she can do when she is rested? But who will she become without dreams?” Love!
Sarah, what a fascinating poem. I love the extended metaphor. I tried to write one a few days ago, but I failed miserably. After reading your note, I reread your poem and could see all the connections with the light switch which I found playful and provocative. I am especially drawn to the last stanza when you ask the question:
I suffer from a continual lack of sleep so I can only imagine what it might be to wake rested, but to not have dreams, hmmm, that is something far deeper. Thanks for sharing this very clever poem:)
Sarah — This light switch image is one that resonated with me and has me thinking as well. The on-off…how readily some of the tougher relationships I’ve known over the years had an on-off matter of fact- ness to them. Your “metal gate” and “electrical circuit” put sharp energy into the image… very effective! The ending question “who… without dreams” — now there’s a loaded question. Haunting. Fascinating ideas here! Susie
Hi Hanna,
This will be so much fun to write today (after class and staff meeting). I love the idea of becoming and using metaphors! I totally enjoyed your poem from start to finish. This was especially beautiful to visualize:
Thank you for this fun prompt and your mentor poem!
I picked her up
At the used gear shop
On Plainfield Avenue
Not too far
From
The house
She was a real
High end
Racing
Machine
Once upon a time…
But has gathered
Grit and dust
In the grease
And the rust on the chain
Means she does not move
Like a ballerina anymore
I could still see
Her as she was
In the magazines
And on the television
Floating up the mountains
And darting across
The Via Roma
She now has
A new home
Where everyday
She gets a little care
I wash
I oil
I scrape away
the rust
I rewrap handlebars
I air up tires
I see her
For what she is
Eric, If I were to read your poem metaphorically, I say it’s a poem about an aging woman who has been set aside whom you are rediscovering! Then, I’d begin to think, is this what they think of me? Then, I’d say, soooo.? He’s back! 🙂
Ha, yes I can see that. It is actually about myself, however. It is really about selfcare and getting to the place where I want to be with myself. I used the bicycle as a metaphor because I am an avid cyclist and bicycle racing fan. I am new to this, so please forgive 🙂
Nothing to forgive, Eric. We play here! This was fun to see how someone can READ OUT OF YOUR POEM something so different from what you WROTE INTO it. 🙂
Eric,
I am smiling after reading Anna’s comment because I think that after 26 days of reading and writing lots of poetry that our way of seeing (at least mine) is more in metaphors. It is lovely to think of all the layers of meaning in chain, tires, rust, and handlebars and that it is a she is everything, making me wonder what I would think metaphorically if it were a he. Okay, enough. Lovely poem. The repetition of “I” is tender as a witness.
Sarah
Eric, the relationship between machine and man here is so interesting. The care and value placed upon the bike (I was imagining a car throughout – maybe because I was getting nods to She Being Brand by ee cummings), an object, is significant. It makes me wonder why we often treat objects as more valuable than people. The bike as metaphor for poet allows for that thought to be set aside. Well-done!
Eric,
Your poem is wonderful. It’s both literal and metaphorical, and as someone who enjoys cycling on a road bike, I love the parallels of caring for a bike to self care. I fell off my bike two years ago and had to go to PT. I haven’t had the courage to get back on, but I will this year. I bought a spin bike to get me through the pandemic, so my legs are fairly strong for an old lady. I love the paradox in these lines compared to the final two lines:
“I could still see
Her as she was
In the magazines
And on the television
Floating up the mountains
And darting across
The Via Roma”
Seeing the beauty and grace in aging is no small thing for humans and machines. Wonderful poem.
Hanna, thank you for today’s inspiration and your beautiful poem. These lines were lovely:
I have been focusing on the present as a way of self-care this school year and my words grounded there with hints of what was and could be.
I am a calendar
of days
moving in circadian rhythms,
a compendium,
a pen diem,
drawn,
stretched,
spanning
and spun,
woven, a spidered cloth,
fibers twisted
into a thread of time
harvested by gods,
seized,
gathered and
carpe’d
from the machine,
an assembled Dianthus,
a journeyer,
a journaler,
remembering once
and writing upon
a time.
Jennifer,
I’m oohing and awing reading your poem. Love that you’re in the present being and the “pen diem” and “carpe’d” play on words. Beautiful image of “writing upon time” at the end.
Jennifer,
The agency in the presents is powerful. There are some labels here, too, from yesterday’s inspiration that I am thinking about but the way this poem is the calendar, days not seen or sketched yet is so moving. I hate that the calendar has all the boxes and numbers there waiting all the time refusing to let me just be here today.
Sarah
Jennifer, I appreciate your opening note, and your poem is incredibly well crafted to extend the calendar metaphor. Your ending is powerful and encourages reflection, it’s like a final musical note that echoes on. Another favorite part was
Brilliant image. Outstanding poem!
Jennifer — You have terrific imagery here. That spun cloth has the beauty and also the “twisted” fibers… the sense that time is organized and orchestrated (calendar-ed) and then “seized” … the “assembled Dianthus” and “harvested by gods” … this is so rich! You sure do have a poet’s sense of images that push the edges. Thank you for such a lovely poem. Susie
I want to be the
flying star of the show
Balancing on one finger
I want to be the
silhouette of the chandelier
hanging in my room
I want to be the
Ghost orb leading
detective’s case
I want to be the
unspoken word
spoken once again
I was the
Untameable forced
to take my Medicine
I was the
unamused sleeping
through action movies
I was the
Selfish saltier
than salt
I am the
active folding
myself in half
I am the
little speck of dust
Running from the vacuum
I will be the
light shining
through the clouds
Chloe, you offer us beautiful images of past, present, and future you. You draw us in with the visual words (flying star of the show) and then throw us off slightly (balancing on one finger). There’s something about folding yourself in half that is intriguing – the way we bend and reshape ourselves to keep going. I am most drawn to this image:
Chloe, the optimism of your closing lines ring beautifully. “I will be the/light shining/through the clouds”
Hang in there, even as a decorative chandelier, glowing with light, making things bright, encouraging folks to do right, because you shedding the light!
What fun!
Chloe,
I love all these metaphors of movement offered with such equity of elegance from the chandelier to the dust — it is all beautiful in the tenses of want to was to am to will.
Thank you for your hope,
Sarah
Chloe — Well done! These images are provocative and sensory-rich. Through each image a loud poet’s voice is there and strong. This …
that’s really terrific. And this
I really loved that sense of a vacuum wanting to suck you into oblivion and you there with all your might running and getting away on your own. Cool image!
Thank you for sharing a very cool poem! Susie
Hanna, thank you for this poetry prompt! These two lines of your poem are simply precious:
Shout out, too, to Hendrix College, my son Wade’s alma mater – what a beautiful campus there in Conway, Arkansas!
I felt the itch to play around with a new poem structure, and decided to throw my thoughts into a ‘triolet’ form, which I saw/read for the first time the other day, in a lovely poem by Dr. Sarah Donovan.
may I
play with words and then write more
love each day, show courage, be kind
be in the midst of those I adore
play with words and then write more
willingly readily always explore
welcome viewpoints, have open mind
play with words and then write more
love each day, show courage, be kind
Maureen,
This is a fabulous take on the prompt. I love the repetition of “play with words, then write more.” It allows us to be who we are and become something else through word play. I struggled finding an approach today. I’m having a “Why didn’t I think of that?” moment.
Maureen, I love the request (may I) in your title – the gentleness that continues as you love each day, be kind. There’s so much invitation throughout (always explore welcome viewpoints). There’s a beautiful rhythm here as well, soft, muted, languid, relaxed. This piece soothes. Thank you.
Maureen, oh my, this form works so well to share your positive thoughts. I am inspired to try this form, too. Your line “love each day, show courage, be kind” is the perfect sentiment. Loved it!
Maureen — Your poem is a strong mantra…love the repeated lines and I am certain you shall succeed and do succeed in every line! Way to go! Susie
Maureen, your triolet is flawless and beautiful and timeless. You have such rich “May I”‘s here. I think your choice of the line about playing with words to be the repeated three times line is significant. The rhythm, the rhyme! Brava!
I love this poem. The repetition flows very well. After I read Jennifer Jowett’s comment, I reread your poem placing “may I” before each line. I initially thought you could be asking for permission; then, I thought about how we set goals for ourselves; how we intend to live, love, and be…I decided these “may I” statements were the latter.
Unapologetically me
Pretty woman you are a superhero
you fly as high as the sky with all that sparkle in your eye
you laugh to keep from crying because laughter is the music to the soul
ouuu phenomenal women I am so proud
you walk straight up with your chest poked out
with just one glance you can help but shout
“That WOMEN HAS PRIDE WITHOUT A DOUBT”
but deep down inside she can’t help but feel
lost in a world of hopelessness drowning in sorrow
saddened with insanity I was insane with grief
that loneliness is a shadow that seems to be so shallow
but through all the pain she knows the sun is peaking through the clouds
that my happiness is like a candle that can be carried on and sourced to others
like laughter as soft as tears I know I can conquer my fears
There is such vivid complexity here, Tarshana, lots to think about. These two lines are particularly tough,
Love how you move from this into such a place of hope and strength:
We are many things, all at once! Thank you for this gift of a poem!
Tarshana, there is great strength and vulnerability sitting side by side in this poem. I love the confidence found at the start (pretty woman you are a superhero) and the no need to apologize attitude found there. I admire that woman. I recognize the “deep down inside” woman too. I am struck by her and the front put on, hiding so much. I’m glad she regains that strength at the end – “like laughter as soft as tears I know I can conquer my fears.”
Tarshana, the conflicting emotions here are incredibly clear and relatable. I adored your final lines:
. Your poem carries self-esteem, sadness, and courage. Beautiful!
OMG Bryan! The many “him”s you want to be and then ending it with you as a “hymn that hums…realizing he’s already arrived”. SO wonderful.. <3
Inspired by a line in an Anis Mosjani poem, “Come Closer”.
Walk Through This with Me
By Nancy White
Every day I get up it’s like a baby learning to walk.
I sit down, hard, looking at the many questions that are like pigeons pecking at the ground and my brain wanders, wondering, “How will I get through?”
Through this maze, this haze, the next phase of Who- Am-I and What-Is-This?
I’ve always wished I could center my mind like clay on the wheel, yet I’m thrown off by what I’m burdened with.
Not firmly grounded, I lift off from the ground and as I happily rise like a let-go balloon, I look down and see someone waving hello or goodbye, I gently smile at this little speck of a person and say, “Hey! Look at me!”
Nancy,
Thank you for this wonderful poem. I too have these same thoughts and it’s like you read my mind. You’ve expressed this in an awesome way and I enjoyed every word you have in this poem. Your poem was great.
I am awed by these metaphors, Nancy! Especially, “I’ve always wished I could center my mind like clay on the wheel, yet I’m thrown off…” – beautiful sculpture of words!
Nancy, your images are strong here – the pigeons pecking at the ground questions, creating a haze/maze. I feel the weight lift free as it rises like a “let-go balloon” set free. There’s where the happiness is found – look at you indeed!
Nancy — I read your poem early this morning and it has stayed with me all day. I love the images here. The “pigeons pecking at the ground” and how that is a perfect image of where a mind goes in a “maze” of questions and considerations. The potter’s wheel and clay — dang, this is gorgeous…”thrown off by what I’m burdened with…” and a “let-go balloon” is so vivid. The sense of distance and “haze” are quite compelling. Thank you for such rich food for thought. Susie
Nancy, thank you for sharing the wonderings of the next phase of who you will be and where we go from here. I’m wondering those things myself a lot lately and it does feel like a maze!
Hanna, thank you thank you thank you for this prompt! I think a lot about who I will become, especially as a preservice teacher. I worry so much that I will never be “enough” but your prompt reminded me that I already am, I will be, and I have always been enough. I will try to post a poem later today, but I wanted to jump in and thank you for this inspiration and reminder that I am not alone on my journey❤️
All my life I’ve had to repeat and spell my name so people would understand it. This explanation often includes an allusion, which you’ll see in my poem. At my age I’m not thinking much about who I’ll be; I think about where I’ll go and what I’ll do w/ the remaining days.
Glenda Not Linda
Glenda
G-L-E-N-D-A
Not Linda
Nor Brenda
Glenda like the
Good witch Glinda
Fairy godmother in
The Wizard of Oz:
Watching over
Dorthy and Toto
Walking the
Yellow brick road
To the Enchanted kingdom
Waving a magical wand
Granting wishes to
Cowardly Lions
Brainless Scarecrows
Heartless Tin Men
Lighting shadowed paths
Guiding lost seekers Home
Dropping houses on
Evil witches
Shape shifter
Protector
Pink Bubble girl
Haloed Queen
Idealized mother
Living life in my fairy tale
Being a good witch
To all who travel here.
—Glenda Funk
Oh, wowza! Glenda, I love this playfulness with your name, the good witch. That you are!
OK, I hope someday I can travel to Oz in Idaho and visit you! I so love your poem today. Is this your first time writing a poem with Glinda the Good Witch referenced? That is such a great story about your name. And your traveling like her throughout Oz protecting and keeping and making magic. It does sound like you!
Here, I will show my age…not sure exactly what is wrong with me, but as soon as you spelled out G-L-E-N-D-A, I heard Van Morrison singing G-L-O-R-I-A, GLORIA! Now, I think your poem should be set to music! I adore imagining you as “Being a good witch/To all who travel here.” I have always wanted to wave a magical wand.
Maureen — now I’m laughing with that earworm…G.LO.R.I.A just hammering me. LOL! Susie
Glenda, it is the wish of many girls to live their lives in fairy tales, and here you are, doing it! I love the many characters who come in and out of your journey (cowardly lions, brainless scarecrows, heartless tin men). But what strikes me most are the actions you take (lighting shadowed paths, guiding lost seekers Home), especially dropping houses! Oh, to be a house dropper (such fun!).
Glenda … er…Glendo…er… hey you! 🙂 I LOVE this introspection on iconic Glinda… I love the fun of this, but also the strong voice that takes us on the Oz jaunt. My fave is the “dropping houses on/evil witches. Yeah, baby, sign me up! I like your whole trajectory in this poem! Thank you. Susie
Ha! Susie, my best friend in college called me Glendola Mae.
Pink bubble girl and Haloed queen! Im seeing you in those roles. Love the Wizard of Oz references – one of my favorites! I was an emerald girl in the play as a child and I can still remember the song I sang ….buzz buzz buzz, chirp chirp chirp and a couple of tra la las…it’s how we work the day away in the merry old land of Oz…..thanks for bringing back the memories!
Glenda, you are indeed the “good witch”. I love all the whimsical descriptive words to show who you are. I thought “Shape shifter” followed by “Protector” was an excellent combination, both magical and loving. My favorite part was your last line and “Guiding lost seekers Home”. Truly magical poem! Loved it! Just a side note, I do an incredible wicked witch impression. Thanks for sharing such a delightfully fun poem! My Wizard of Oz soul has found a home in this poem.
Thank you, Hanna, for the work you and your team is doing with the POETIC JUSTICE program. Sarah invited me to join the team and I’m finding it a joy to learn with and from my writing partner. Keep up the good work. This challenge today seems like one we all should consider, inside or outside the bars of a prison. Here’s mine
BECOMING TAKES TIME
I want to be me
But the issue is I don’t always like what I see
While becoming who I’m meant to be.
Will I feel as much pride as a coach from the side
As I do as the sage on the stage
Will I be okay to step away
Become the pot on the back burner
As thrilled as a lifelong learner
You see, I believe we each have a purpose
A reason for our existence
We each have a role
A life to unfold
Like a patchwork quilt on a roll
A patchwork quilt
From the Master’s hand
A mosaic depiction of living parts
Learning to sing from our hearts
Wool and cotton and silk and rayon
Somehow the parts seem to fit
Harmony of voices, still having choices
To be or not to be
Will I learn to really be free
Free to be me and like it
Will I be kind with the kind of mind
That forgives and not forgets
Not forgets what it was like on the other side
Before I learned to ride
The waves of life that got me here
The smiles, the tears and prayer
I’m not the me I want to be
I strive to become better
Hoping against doubt that the past
Will be a blessing and not a fetter
Anna, your poem resonates with me. I, too, feel I’m a work in process and want to get better. These lines grabbed my attention—
I just love “ride the waves of life.” I used to surf and this metaphor is apt to the ups and downs I’ve experienced. There’s the hard work of paddling out, the waiting, the glorious rides, and the wipeouts. All make us stronger and better. ??
Anna, thank you for your honest reflection here. I can relate to your first lines:
This, though, shows that even when we don’t like what we see, our lives are bigger than us!
Beautiful image here of the Master’s hand at work on the mosaic of our lives.
Oh! Anna! That first stanza is a ringer. “I don’t always like what I see/while becoming who I meant to be.” Such truth there. That self-recognition allows the “I’m not the me I want to be/I strive to become better” to happen. I love that this comes full circle.
Hanna, your mention of all the versions of you inspired me to think of the version of me I want to become. Thank you for hosting us today with this fun prompt!
A Hip Wild Rose Haiku
I want to become
A wearer of striped leggings
And purple high tops
I want to become
A graffiti tricycle
speeder – ding, ding,ding!
I want to become
a wildflower thief
snipping stems for free
I want to become
a drinker of herbal tea
steeped in wild rose hips
I want to become
a crazy dog lady
with twelve dozen dogs
I want to become
a whimsical mad hatter
sporting a fun lid
I want to become
a spunky retiree,
unpredictable
For now I am a
wearer of matching outfits
nothing too offbeat
For now I am a
county square pedestrian
walking in the lines
For now I am a
colorless cubiclemate
minus the flowers
For now I am a
morning decaf coffee fan
never branching out
For now I am a
rescue Schnoodle/Schnauzer mom
just these two enough
For now I am a
hatless day jobber
compliant and safe
I want to become
the dreamer I’ve always been
when I’ve dared to dream.
Kim, thank you for this! I love the back and forth of who you want to be come and who you are for now. Great images you’ve given me! I also love the simplicity and fun that seems to exist in your piece.
Kim,
Remember that poem w/ the line “when I am old I shall wear purple and spit on the ground”? I thought about that as I read the things you want to become. There’s a bit of eccentric freedom in retirement, but you can go ahead and wear those striped leggings. I think haiku works beautifully to show life’s structures forcing conformity.
I love the whimsical feel of this poem. The images sparkle with life and amusement. The last stanza is profound! I love “when I’ve dared to dream”. I would love to have more of that exhilarating freedom and your poem inspires me to dream outside the box.
I love this take on the prompt full of whimsical wishes, “A wearer of striped leggings
And purple high tops” and who you really are, “For now I am a
rescue Schnoodle/Schnauzer mom
just these two enough” I’m a schnoodle mom too! I would like to share your poem with students as a mentor text, tight form with anaphora. A form often leads them to surprising and satisfying results.
Margaret, thank you! Absolutely you may share anytime! Aren’t we blessed to be Schnoodle moms??
Kim, your wish list is just too fun! I’m thinking about those hats you’ll sport some day! And with your striped leggings and purple high tops–that will be great. I love that you painted these pictures. You are making me dream about possibilities for me now!!
This is so, so fun, Kim! I love “a wildflower thief / snipping stems for free” and many other images contrasted with what you are currently, and I love the hopes and dreams and courage at the end 🙂
Kim, the whimsy of your poem is so refreshing. Each haiku individually is fun. Together they are even more fun. I can see those striped leggings furiously pedaling a graffiti tricycle.
Hanna, thank you for your prompt today and for your work on Poetic Justice. I hope someday to volunteer in California, when I retire there. These lines of your poem inspired me:
and then that next line, my favorite, gives me pause and hope:
I wrote my list in my notebook of what I want to become still. Not much of it literally made it into my poem, but I liked the challenge of using metaphor. Not my strong suit, but it was a good exercise. Your poem was a great mentor.
Who I Want to Become
Remnant of hope
pieced together with creation
Dispensing
experiences of love
and doing my best
Compiler of circumstances
Quietly reflective
Without fluster or flurry
Unsnarling the mess I’ve made
of my nest and rebuilding,
disseminating love and hope
Hope giver from the remnant left
Denise, thank you for the kind words and sharing your own poem! It was a great start to my morning to have this to read. I am fixated on this word unsnarling and keep coming back to it– I simply love it.
Denise, so much of your poem resonates with me, especially the goal of “disseminating love and hope”. I love this group writing and hope we remain together as we face the future, learning together to do so “without fluster of flurry”.
Speaking poetically, the alliteration of those words, the effort to force out the “f” sounds reinforce the idea that life is a challenge, but the the “u” in the middle of each of those words, reminds me, too, that I can make it the “you!”in the plural, meaning each one in this group. (Isn’t it cool, that in English, “you” can be singular or plural?)
Denise – I love this remnant of hope at the beginning and ending of your poem. I note “deepening experiences of love” and “disseminating love and hope” – I have a sense of the steady work and incredible patience of unsnarling a terrible knot in the hair or in a fine gold necklace – and the comfort in quiet acts of love, like in every word you stitch together here…
Denise,
Thank you for your poem. the more I read the more I wanted the poem to continue. this gave me both inspiration and the desire to want to do more. I loved your poem
Denise, love the idea of ‘remnant of hope,’ and I adore that last line, “hope giver from the remnant left” – what a beautiful metaphor! Oh, if we could all make something better through our remnants!
Denise, these repurposed remnants with hope and love fill my heart with happiness – I have been making rag quilts for each of my grandchildren, and the end of this poem makes me think of the renesting and these remnants that can be given as a legacy to the warmth of life that will last them long after I’m gone. This is beautiful! Thank you for putting a smile on my face this evening!
Hanna, I so admire the work of Poetic Justice. How can you not be changed by what you do? Love the metaphors in your poem (cross-stitches, library card,…) This idea was a good challenge this early morning. Here is my drafty draft with a borrowed line from Anis Mojgani.
Notes in a Locker
I forgot
who I wanted to become
A note dropped into a locker
scribbled in cursive,
curly letters to sign my name.
I forgot
who I was
when notes became soggy
tissue floating in the river
buried beneath the flood
we climbed out of on Easter morning.
I forgot
who she wanted to be,
that blonde Dorothy Hamill
flirting with boys
wanting to be loved.
I become
who I am
daily walking from
cocoon of sleep
into a full moon rising,
setting,
settling for
being OK
being me.
Oh! This is wonderful…and I think I know just the collection I would place this in. Another, poem, another poem, please!
Margaret, I love the metaphors in your first stanza, especially
These lines convey such a sense of loss. And in the end, you settle for “being OK/being me”. That gives me a sense of peace with one’s self.
This is more than a drafty-draft, Margaret – your poem sings of life well-lived and love well-placed, just as your words are well-placed and lyrical. It is a song of overcoming and acceptance – and peace, stepping into “a full moon rising”.
Margaret,
I loved your poem. It set a tone I am very familiar with. the sense of hopelessness and then being okay with who you are, it’s just amazing.
Margaret — This is a really affirming poem. I like the voice…it’s strong…it’s honest. “being OK being me” — you bet! Way to go!
Also, thank you for encouraging your student, Chloe, to post her wonderful poem! Super!
Susie
Margaret,
These dreams you had yesteryear gave way to the better-than-you-could-have-dreamt person you are today, admiring little ducklings on jump day and loving those adorable grandkids! Somehow dreams come true better than we could have ever cast them! P.S. I had a Dorothy Hamill haircut, too! Go us!
Hanna – your poem has stirred my spirit today with those metaphors! The tangled Christmas tree lights, waiting for the calendar to turn, the library card waiting for what will be written on its new side. So very rich – so full of anticipation. I do not think I would have ever considered that “my anxiety is beautiful” but you have opened it up to show how that can be true. This is a glorious poem.
I am nowhere near done with my first draft here – it is born of my love for writing and wherever it leads me as well as an acknowledgement of growing older and becoming a grandparent. Letting it fly as is…
Testament
I cannot measure
how much time remains
in the hourglass
of my days
sand grains
steadily trickling
more than half
already gone
yet still refining
polishing
my existence
with words
let them be
the worry-stone
worn smooth
slid into the pockets
of those I encounter
a cool indented
presence of calm
for the holding
let them be a beckoning
a turning inward
toward crystals
forming in the geode void
the amelioration
of hollow places
let them be
like the curious folk remedy
of my childhood
jars of strange white peach rings
with heart-colored centers
floating in witch hazel
(which has nothing to do
with magic; the name means
pliable)
cure for bruises and
what ails you
let my words be
a gauge for life-giving rain
collected
yet flowing on
and on
a good measure
pressed and shaken
poured out
a testament of love
for the new life
coming
oooooh, let them be the worry stone. I am in love with this image. Fran, this draft is gorgeous. So many incredible images—but that worry stone? It’s going to stay with me all day. Beautiful poem.
Fran, I am fascinated by the stones moving through your piece. The connection between the sand grains trickling higher to the polishing an existence with words to the worn-smooth worry stone is so very interesting. And then we enter the geode and I’m even reminded of the peach stone with the peach rings. I love that you bring us back to the hourglass, with words shaken, poured out. Beautiful!
Fran — That …
What a gorgeous image! I love this poem and the notion that your words are a testament! Susie
Good Morning Writers,
Hanna, I love the description of you and your passions. What a lucky world we are to have you caring about what you do and working where you work. I so appreciate today’s prompt. And, your poem is wonderful in the inclusion of anxiety’s tangled wires and tiredness. This is a person I want to know and work alongside of, I thought as I read it.
I’m playing with a form called cherita this week.
When I was eight
I wanted to be a writer
I drew pictures, wrote stories and poems.
Decades later, at my kitchen table
before sunrise I tap away at a keyboard
stories, poems, essays to share someday
This form worked well for this prompt. Here you are, writing next to me at 5 AM… It’s nice to know you’re there. Keep tapping.
Lifelong love of writing – it is such a gift. Your cherita conveys this perfectly. I am grateful to be a recipient of what you write and share, Linda.
Linda,
I love that you are following such a passion. I think writing and expressing is what keeps us going in life. Keep writing!
Linda, the dream came true!
I like this cherita. It sounds like the cherry on top – and it is!