Kari Anne Holt is the award-winning author of many middle grade novels in verse including Redwood & Ponytail, Knockout, House Arrest, and Rhyme Schemer. She is also the other of several middle grade fantasy and sci-fi novels, as well as the picture book, I Wonder, illustrated by Kenard Pak. Kari Anne lives in Austin, Texas with her wife and three kids.
Inspiration
One of the basic tenets of poetry is to condense feelings, emotions, descriptions, and experiences into a few poignant words and phrases. Obviously, these choice words and phrases do the work that many sentences would do in prose — but how do poets discover just the right word or turn of phrase to do this heavy lifting? With poetic devices, of course! We learned about these building blocks when we were children, so it’s easy to not just overlook them, but to forget them altogether.
In today’s lesson, we’re going back to the basics as we write our poems. Here are a few popular poetic devices to jog your memory:
Alliteration
Assonance
Consonance
Hyperbole
Repetition
Simile
Metaphor
Onomatopoeia
Personification
Apostrophe
And more!
Process
The first thing I want you to do is cast your gaze around the room and settle on an object. Something simple (a stapler), something you love (a pair of favorite shoes), something you can’t do without (your car keys), anything like that.
Next, take a good long look at this item and write down 10-20 words that describe it. These descriptors can be obvious (color, name of the object) or more esoteric (feelings you get from the object, etc.). Don’t think too hard about your list, though, just write down the first descriptive words that come to mind.
Once your list is complete, and you feel you’ve exhausted all the descriptive words you can think of, I want you to decide which style of poem you want to use to write about this object. Will you write a haiku? Maybe free verse? An acrostic? A villanelle? A limerick?
Now that you have your list of descriptive words, and you’ve decided which type of poem you’d like to write, I want you to take a deep breath and think about the poetic devices mentioned above (plus any others you want). Now, write a poem about the object you chose without using any of the words you’ve listed. All of your listed words are off limits, as are any words derived from those words. (For example: if juice is on your list, you also cannot use juicy).
You’re about to depend a lot on poetic devices. If you feel stuck, think about your five senses and how they relate to your object. Think about other things that share shape or color, and then delve into some metaphors. Ready? Let’s go!
(And feel free to read your finished poem aloud, while a friend or student holds your list of words and makes a buzzer noise if they hear anything from the list. It’s amazing how often the words sneak in without the poet realizing!)
Kari Anne’s Poem
Words
Typewriter
red
keys
clack
old
Olivetti
Valentine
antique
ribbon
ding!
paper
loud
typos
Style
Free verse + apostrophe
Poem!
Oh, smart machine,
the way you look at me,
gazing over your metal brow,
asking me
how
might you help catch
my words,
how
might we use your tools,
how
might we harness your Then
to press them,
my words,
into service,
and how
how
can we wrestle together
to turn this Now
into tomorrow’s truth?
Oh, smart machine,
shout your secrets
please…
shout them all,
a cacophony of solutions
to my blazing Hows.
Write
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.
Ben rests eternally on the hearth.
Thank you, Pet Memories
Cremation Service.
Can’t believe it’s been
Four years.
My Rectangular Honey by Seana
I desired you before
I even met you.
You kept popping up
on commercials and
billboards begging me
to pick you and embrace you.
You appealed to my
sense of wanting to have the latest
gadget, wanting to be ‘fly’,
wanting to be a rockstar.
I forced myself, though, to wait a year
due to all the recalls and upgrades.
Once I had you, I slept with you, took you into the
bathroom, and downloaded a multitude of
unnecessary apps just so I could see
those colorful little squares.
Now that you’re mine and we’ve been hitched for
10+ years, I still desire you.
You keep me connected to faraway descendants
you hold images of angels, my past and present,
and new learnings.
Also, though, you have brought me dreadful
words and have given me depressive
news that took me to the floor.
At times I’m addicted to you
like a 16-year old girl having the hots for a 20-year old boy
which is alarming considering
I lived without you for the first thirty years of my life.
Cell phone
Black
Keyboard
Frame
Bright
Inscription
Dangerous
Hard
Convenient
Reliable
Unforgiving
Amazing
Keys
Music
Sounds
My Phone
Bling, bling, bling
My phone rings
Should I pick up
Or let the noise die off
Bzz, bzz, bzz
The vibration is fierce
Pick me up
Free me from this annoying sound
Not today phone
Quiet on your own
I am too busy
to deal with your negativity today
Be available
and reliable when needed
But for now
blend in with the black desk
Melissa, I say let it go! Why do we feel responsible to answer our phones? It’s a bit ridiculous, don’t you think? Turn it off and welcome the calm, I say!
Melissa,
That last line says it all, “blend in with the black desk.” If there were only a way for its presence to be camouflaged.
Peace,
Sarah.
covid footware
I haven’t left the house in days
except to walk the dogs
or walk out into the backyard
while sitting at the dining room table
staring at a screen
I rub my feet against the table rail
but when I rise to walk
around the house
I slip my feet into my boiled wool slippers
slippers found on a page in an LL Bean catalogue
I hadn’t owned a pair of slippers in years – like 30 years
I live in Texas
since then two soft, cozy slippers wait alongside my bed
for my feet to slip inside when I rise to let Godot out
my boiled wool slippers – the color of oatmeal graced with
two maple leaves of mustard and red
“I rub my feet against the table rail” This was the line that pulled me in.
” I rise to let Godot out
my boiled wool slippers” These were the lines that said, “You have just experienced a poem.” Thank you.
Jamie,
This is such a cozy ode to your slippers, which are like an adult version of a security blanket —
my boiled wool slippers – the color of oatmeal graced with
two maple leaves of mustard and red
I have so enjoyed your poems these past few days. Thank you for being here.
Be well,
Sarah
Aww, Jamie, this is so sensory…so real. I was sitting there by you at the table rubbing my bare feet on the rail… the comfort of the boiled wool with an “oatmeal” color feels so soothing. My favorite part, though, is feeling like we’ve been in the same exact place, not leaving our homes in days and the backyard being the one place where we wander around. Slippers feel like the perfect “covid footwear.” Thanks, Susie
Family Cookbook
generational
antique
familiar
delicious opportunities
brittle
sticky
smelly?
unfinished
loved
burnt
Limerick:
Passed down from my grandmother to me
This cookbook holds the secrets of my family tree
When looking through each loved and brittle page
I dream of my younger ages
Oh grandmother, with me always
I love a limerick and I love the image of those brittle pages! I wish I had a cookbook like this.
Elizabeth, I’m glad you tried a limerick. This is so beautiful. My favorite line is “The cookbook holds the secrets of my family tree.” Though I have some recipes from earlier generations, I don’t have the brittle pages you do from their own book. What a lovely reminder of your grandmother today.
Elizabeth,
The line that really resonated with me is this: “This cookbook holds the secrets of my family tree.” I am imagining the meals but also the conversations in the kitchen over the years — so powerful. And this personification welcomes the book as a family member.
Peace,
Sarah
Carmex:
Buttery
Grimey
Small
Smooth
buff
Honey
Vanilla
Old
Nearly empty
Shiney
Smooth
Pale
Tacky
Oily
Self-care
Healing
Waxy
comfort
Limerick
In winter my lips they are scabrous!
Oh, what can I do to be glamorous?
I’ll seek inner calm
With a jar of lip balm–
Pucker up! My lips are now amorous!
This is so sassy and fun! I really enjoyed reading it, and I loved the cadence of the piece.
Wow, Allison, nice job on your limerick. So fun and playful and really great rhythm. scabrous, glamorous, amorous–so great! And great job avoiding your extensive list of words.
Allison,
You brought me back to the 90s with just one word: Carmex. All my sisters carried this tin. Love the word “scabrous” contrasted with “amorous”! So fun.
Sarah
Oh my gosh, Allison (or should I call you Hotlips?!), you are such a delight! This is just dandy. Limericks are absolutely one of my favorite bits of creativity….all the way back to when I was a little bitty kid on the farm… my dad had an orange covered book by Bennet Cerf that was a book of limericks…and my dad read those to us over and over. Soooo fun a memory…and you brought it all right back in five glorious lines! And I LOVE that word “scabrous”! Thank you, Susie
OH MY GOSH I DID IT! I wrote a poem I’m not completely embarrassed about AND it’s the day of the prompt! Yee-haw!
Teapot Tanka
Ritual relies
on your kiln-fired clay being
sturdy enough for
the leaves, the boiling water,
the wait, and the emptiness.
This reminds me of William Carlos Williams, and I find it relaxing to read.
Amanda,
Good to see you. Wonderful poem. Excellent alliteration in “ritual relies, “kiln…clay,” and, course, the title. Keep writing. This is a safe place for draft poem, too.
—glenda
Amanda, brava! You did it! I keep learning new poetry forms. Now I’ve added tanka to my list. I wrote about my teapot today. You have used just 31 syllables to tell a tale of your ceramic teapot. It is a comfort to read.
This is so artful. I love the “ritual relies” beginning.
Words
___________
Macbook Air
Laptop
Computer
Keyboard
Chrome
Silver
Black
Screen
Type
Mouse Pad
Password
Charge
Apple
Bright
My Fruity Device
__________________________
I have this fruity device.
It makes communicating so nice.
Keel over I might
From pecking all night.
But, my wording must be precise.
Searching the World Wide Web
While chilling at home in my bed.
Scroll through social media.
Don’t trust Wikipedia,
Making sure to vet what I’ve read.
I love your fruity device! I also admire your witty rhymes. Free verse is my comfort zone. You remind me that I need to push myself!
Donnetta, I just wrote my poem in limerick form, and was reminded how tricky the form can be! I love your “fruity device” and “pecking all night”!
Donnetta,
The rhyme add such whimsy and rhythm to poem, but that last line hints at caution — it gives added meaning to the first line with “fruity” in that at the end it needs to be “vet”ted. Celver.
Sarah
Didn’t
Expect to
Sit at my
Kitchen table with my desk
Calendar from my classroom.
August brings the excitement of newness
Like meeting new students, purchasing new school supplies.
Entering important dates on calendars.
Never has the calendar made the trip home.
Don’t know how to fill the blanks.
Any chance for a student scribbling their day to
Remember–erased.
That calendar is such a seemingly simple think, but the symbolism behind it is powerful. “Don’t know how to fill the blanks” seems how most of us are feeling right now. I hope it gets better soon!
I was in school today to give out computers and retrieved my school calendar. I don’t know how to fill the blanks, either… I hadn’t thought of it as a symbol of my life before your poem. I will, now…
This made me sad. I miss my Scholars.
Lou, I love your last line – it feels nostalgic
You tell my story
by molding to my feet
you walk the miles upon miles
leading the steps I may not want to take
The dirt smudges add character
and the rain stained marks
running courageously in the midnight rain
you’ve seen the summer days
and the cold winter nights with socks running
to Walmart for cookie dough
You tell my story
I like the line “leading the steps I may not want to take”. This poem reminds me of my work shoes.
Jordy, I love how poets PAY ATTENTION. I feel that in your poem. You have slowed down your thinking and zeroed in on your shoes as if to honor them. So cool. Your poem makes me want to slow down and honor the objects that serve me, quietly and without demands.
As I go through a trying day
I think about you
The thought of you helps me complete my tasks
Just knowing you are there ready for me
Makes me smile and hurry through
Just so you can embrace my cheeks and questions, never ask
Leaning into your waiting embrace
I scarcely can keep my composure
Depending on your sturdiness I fear not to, just, let go
You are a refuge from a world gone mad
By watching, listening, and reading I get exposure
To the world beyond and all I need to know
You are there for me
Though you cannot care for me
You brighten up my lot
I’m so happy that you are my spot
What a fun and devoted ode to your “spot.” As i continue to cultivate mine, I am so grateful to have the space to create a “spot” and find joy in a new opportunity for creating. I love the word “refuge” to describe a place that encourages learning and observation. So necessary right now.
This “Leaning into your waiting embrace” makes the relationship so intimate!
Sarah
Social distancing is hard, but even when we are home 24/7, “my spot” never loses its charm.
Object I am
I got you a sale one spring
You were originally $85
but I got you for $18
You are black
and filled with holes
You have buttons
and you’re louder than life
I love my car rides with you,
I love swimming with you
You make me feel better,
sometimes
Sometimes you feed into my anger
Sometimes you feed into my sadness
but I love you none the less
I’ve met no other like you
None compare
You are marvelous
You are amazing
You help me enjoy music
You help me enjoy slam poetry
Thank you black little speaker!
You kept me guessing until the last line! Love your repetition of “sometimes.” Now, maybe more than ever, music continues to prove itself to be an essential.
I was thinking something to wear. I love how you described this object.
Naydeen,
I love the mystery that is created with the “you” apostrophe device, and only in that last line when you speak directly to your object of affection do we know it is the speaker. The comfort of sound to break the uncertainty of silence is so powerful here. What is your favorite slam poetry?
Peace,
Sarah
Haiku to Couch
Brown plush cushioning
Sitting, napping, relaxing
Clouds of fluff to lay
Love the economy of words, Lauryl and how all the “n’s” create consonances, lulling us to relax in the clouds!
Sarah
I’m not good with haiku, but yours was very easy to follow. Your word description was right on, in that it made me want to crawl up on my couch!
Lauryl,
I loved how you described your couch! “Cushioning, relaxing, clouds of fluff”, it sounds like an amazing couch!
Item: Coffee mug
White
Stoneware Clay
Etched
mug
Deep
Odd-shaped
Empty
Imperfect
Favorite
“Best Mom Ever”
Smooth
Breakable
Rae Dunn
Type of Poem: Haiku (5-7-5)
Everyday object by Jenny Sykes
Vessel of comfort
Dispense time and connection
Invigorate me
Jennifer,
That first word “vessel” is just perfect and how you show all a “vessel” of coffee does for our hearts and minds in so few words is as magical as the beans.
Peace,
Sarah
Did you notice that your haiku is shaped like a cup? Just a bit, anyway. I was thinking this was the perfect drop of balm – just a splash of all that vessel does – when the cup jumped out at me! And I too, love the word vessel.
I love the carefully chosen words in your Haiku. They are perfectly placed and create warmth inside me as I understand your love for coffee!
Mmmm “dispense time and connection”–beautifully said. One of the silver linings of this time at home has been the opportunity to sit and drink coffee (usually a weekend treat) with my husband every day! Your poem could be on the side of a mug!
Ode to GD
A treasure trove of
secret codes, more cherished than
Emeralds or gold
Barb,
I adored the way that this ode rolled off my tongue. The words “trove” and “codes” were so fun to say over and over. Really great job!
I love the assonance in Ode…trove…code…gold. I do not know what/who GD means/is. I can savor the hidden/secret treasure buried in this haiku without knowing. Would knowing what GD means make me see this in a different way? (I hunted for your post tonight! Love my Iowa compatriots!)
Allison, I realized after I posted my poem that people had shared their process. I guess I wanted to make my haiku a little mysterious though as I wanted to share the idea that the object was extremely valuable. GD stands for Google Drive. I look for your work, too, Allison! I am so appreciating this event as it motivates me to continually write.
Exercise Ball
Large, green,full of air, bouncy,round, lines around it, center of room, unused
Dear Exercise Ball,
Our torrid tryst has gone awry. We are
Kaput. Kaphlooey.
Our circle is broken beyond repair.
Your inflated ego,
your need for constant puffery,
your attitude that all that exists must orbit around you,
mundane moons circling your planet, mere satellites to your verdant Eden
has driven me away
At first, I found you exciting.
We circled each other with grace and style,
Your viridescence called to me, beckoning flirtatiously.
We leaped. We vaulted through the day.
I leaned on you. I bounced on the bubble of your joy.
We rolled through life as if
we were weightless. Your gleaming arc
offered zip, pep, oomph.
But no more. I am leaving you.
Our fling is over. You have flung our love into the universe.
It is time for you to take a hop.
I am moving you out of sight.
Oh, don’t look so deflated.
Another fool will roll in to play…
Gayle, I really enjoyed the approach you took with this poem and the word choice is outstanding. I especially appreciated “torrid tryst” and “beckoning flirtatiously”. Very fun poem and the sequence relays your shifting attitude towards the exercise ball.
Gayle, I chuckled reading this harangue to the exercise ball, especially the closing lines, that show it may be out of sight, but the poem says not out of mind. 🙂
I am moving you out of sight.
Oh, don’t look so deflated.
Another fool will roll in to play…
As I sit and eye my exercise ball, unused for many weeks, I can relate to your story! It’s funny, but true! I, especially, like the “I am moving you out of my sight”, phrase. I’m getting there!
Gayle, I really, really enjoyed the approach you took to today’s inspiration! I felt a smile creep on my face when I realized your description of “your inflated ego, your need for constant puffery…”
Although this prompt looks amazing, I didn’t do it. I needed something else today, but I will come back and follow the rules later!
I sit in the extra room with the bunk beds, bookshelves, toys,
and computer, which is now the centerpiece of the room.
The desk holds the computer, the monitor, and my portable devises.
And cords-so many cords!
My blood pressure slowly rises when I enter the room
and think about “teaching” from here.
I know this alternative is the best we can do,
but it’s a poor substitute.
My new mantra seems to be, “It’s the best we can do!”
The best and worst part is actually connecting with students—
I see their faces, thrilled to connect.
I see their faces, pained at not being in school.
And there are the faces I don’t see,
The ones who don’t have a computer
Or Internet
And can’t stay connected right now.
The lifeline we are using is not a lifeline for all.
Mo,
This is a gut-wrenching reality poem. I completely feel your pain and angst.
This part is what makes all this so much worse:
“And there are the faces I don’t see,
The ones who don’t have a computer
Or Internet…”
Where are our darlings and are they all okay!?
Hugs.
I miss their presence. I miss their eye rolls. I miss their hugs. Your poem echoes everything I feel right now…
Mo, I can so relate to this frustration. The end says it all. What will happen when education is completely online, no more public school….I imagine it will shift the rich from the poor even more. I so appreciate your poem, and find myself just wanting to rant now. Isn’t that what a great poem does?
Mo, your poem does what poems do, economically summarizes a situation. How sad. How true.
The ones who don’t have a computer
Or Internet
And can’t stay connected right now.
The lifeline we are using is not a lifeline for all.
Mo, I appreciate the rawness of this poem. The words seemed to flow as thoughts and I could feel those thoughts. Thank you for sharing this
Mo — I totally get this. The frustration for you, for the kids, for the unanswered questions. How we create a new manta (…the best we can do) really is the mantra of a dedicated teacher…here in the most godawful mess and scrambling to untangle the cords of connection. I love the caring, the strong voice of doing “the best” you can do. Hang in there….even with the “bunk beds, bookshelves, toys…” none of which feels like the beautiful order that is school. Hugs to you… you are a hero…. those teachers are incredible heroes. Susie
Mo,
Your pain and frustration resonates in this poem, but I think you can use that “the best we can do” to deepen empathy for students. They’re doing the best they can do, too, and they really only want to sense your presence. You’re being available to communicate to them, hear them, love them matters so much more than the lesson plan, It’s those students w/out tech and internet that my heart aches most for. Take care. Sending a virtual hug. Thank you.
—glenda
I had so much fun with this! I won’t reveal the object until the end. Here’s a little free verse, with a focus on alliteration…
Ordinary Object
When we were in Washington state,
near the water,
we waited with other worshipers,
for mouth-watering Walleye on wheat,
at a weird, wacky takeout window on a wooden boat.
We whispered and wondered,
waiting in a winding line,
whether it was wise or a waste;
wow, it was wonderful!
Then there’s the time that
our toddler talked non-stop
of Thomas the Tank Engine,
so we kept tabs on toy stores, and
after a tip from a trendsetting talent,
traveled across town,
for the tiny toy train.
Today’s deeply desired delight,
once deemed ordinary and dull,
now has its due as
dainty, diaphanous, and divine,
the stuff of daydreams!
It’s depletion so dire, and
our deprivation so disastrous,
it is documented in the daily news.
Darn it, what is the deal?!
I desperately need double-ply!
Object: Toilet paper
Words: toilet, paper, white, roll, rips, soft, coveted, backup, extras, running out, squishy, pandemic
Wonderfully wacky, terribly tricky, and delightfully dear. Did you ever in your life imagine you’d write a poem about toilet paper? LOL
Maureen, I really enjoyed the moments you described in the first two stanzas as they seemed so special which sets up the humor so well in the final stanza. I sure curse the hoarders right now as I haven’t seen any TP on the shelves for weeks. The double-ply end was particularly funny!
Very cleaver. I didn’t have a clue until, “now has its due as dainty, diaphanous, and divine,the stuff of daydreams! It’s depletion so dire, and our deprivation so disastrous, it is documented in the daily news.” Good as gold, nowadays! Thanks for a smile with a topic, not so funny!
Maureen,
? This is fabulous! Love the focused alliteration in each stanza. Have to say the third stanza is my favorite. I can’t stop smiling. Thank you.
—glenda
Object: wall clock
Words: time, old, fast, past, future, brown, tick-tock, rush, race, fear, joy, waiting, anguish, regret, memories
Style: Free verse
Devices: repetition, extended metaphor
STOP
Oh, Father!
constant companion
happiness
sadness
Oh, Father!
Why in such a hurry?
Slow down
I need more
Oh, Father!
Just stop
Stand still, I plead
Let me stay
Let me enjoy
Make it last
Oh, Father!
I am NOT ready.
Monica, love the personification …talking to time, pleading with him. I imagined a young child, frustrated that time has gone by so quickly. Very clever! (Funny how thinking of Father time also made me think of grandfather clocks)
Monica,
I read this the first time without looking at your object, and the tone was so different — my expectations were shaping my interpretation. I read it literally as a child beseeching a father, and then the second reading has more whimsy but still urgency. Love the apostrophe!
Sarah
Time. Your metaphor and the personification make this poem come alive. Let me stay. Let me enjoy. Make it last.
Monica,
I love this! I’ve been thinking a lot about the aspect of time lately. How it seems to stand still as we endure this crisis surrounding us, yet the days fly by and what have we truly accomplished? I love the repetition of Oh, Father! as it means so many profound things/beings (Father Time, Grand Father clock, Father-God). Thanks for sharing with us today.
Monica,
For me personally, clocks always annoyed me more by their incessant chiming rather than the loss of time. However, I really loved your take and personification of the wall clock. The pleading you do for more time is not a solitary one.
WORDS:
Mandolin
Strings
Pluck
Round
Wooden
Tuning
Pegs
Volume
Silver
Sound Hole
Frets
Fender
Beautiful
Chords
Bluegrass
POEM:
Listen to your voice
Harmonic metal singers
You wear their fingers
Toes tap titanium
Hands trained to dance like raindrops
Quick bolts meld with mud
I feel you for now
A tight squeeze brief but binding
As strong as a song
As strong as a song
As strong as a song (or two)
As strong as a song
Oh, Alex, I just love these lines:
Toes tap titanium
Hands trained to dance like raindrops
Quick bolts meld with mud
The music has such texture with the metal and the mud.
Sarah
Oh yes! So many things I love—“you wear their fingers“, toes tap titanium (yes!), hands trained to dance like raindrops.
As strong as a song. I will read this one again tonight.
Alex — I love the simplicity of this… the musical connection to the instrument… we are kindred spirits in today’s prompt. I really like that. Susie
Object: Coffee Mug
Words:
Brown
White
Sloth
Hot
Stained
Blue
Smile
Style: Free Verse
Alliteration
Anticipating abnormal adventures,
acquire arousing Aroma.
Bitter bold brew,
bearing boastful behavior.
Concerned container,
compute countless cups.
Daring double dose,
determined drinks drop.
Enjoying exotic earthliness,
endless, effortless, espresso
Farming freeing fears,
filling flavorful Folgers.
Putting peace in my personality,
predominantly pushing productivity.
I like your ABC method of alliteration! Quite relatable!
Jessica, love the alliteration and the insight it provides…I think your favorite mug sports a sloth, and find your words “putting peace in my personality, predominantly pushing productivity” spot on!
Jessica,
I just love how you play with alliteration and assonance here. Feels good to utter these words aloud, but it also works visually. It is almost like the initial letters in these clusters creates a rainbow of shapes!
Sarah
So love this! I also wrote about my coffee mug. I absolutely love the alliteration and how you wrote in alphabetical order. Every line spoke volumes, but I especially connected with the “daring double dose” and “predominantly pushing productivity.” It’s amazing how our daily cup of joe provides companionship in that “concerned container.”
Jessica,
I loved your alliteration! The beginning, wow! “Anticipating abnormal adventures”, I loved that line! It made me think of the adventures I would love to have with my coffee mug if it were a person. I also looked how you went through the different letters of alliteration, instead of just sticking to one letter. Thank you for your piece.
Stove: black, shiny, stainless steel, gas, deep, large, hot, comfort, joy, blue clock, self-cleaning, used, cast iron grates, burners,
Sweet girl, I am standing ready
Let me examine your tribute
Keep this fire burning steady
Mmm, I can smell those veggies
I sense the stickiness of the fruit
Sweet girl, I am standing ready
I think those onions are getting sweaty
Stop worrying, googling for a substitute
Keep this fire burning steady
I must say, you are quite messy
Sloshing sticky sauces, I need a wetsuit
Sweet girl, I am standing ready.
I have a flame, a power I levy
The propane climbing up my root
Keep this fire burning steady.
See how those flavors marry?
What can my magic execute?
Sweet girl, I am standing ready.
Keep this fire burning steady.
Ashley, great personification of a much-loved stove…I loved the repetition of “Sweet girl, I am standing ready/Keep this fire burning steady.” Cooking is such a collaborative process, even when cooking alone!
Thank you! I feel like my stove is a little sassy.
Ashley,
This line was such a lovely surprise: “Sloshing sticky sauces, I need a wetsuit” — clever and apt.
Sarah
Thank you for reading!
Ashley — I come away from this sensory bonanza just plain HUNGRY and wanting to watch you do your magic with that stove. I can smell those onions, caramelizing. What a terrific “get down and get kitchen” kinda poem. Love it. Thanks, Susie
That touches my heart! Thank you!
Sun rising, birds chirping
groans and yawns and stretches
How will I survive
one
more
day
in this house?
Down the stairs, turn the corner
and there you are
looking at me
the way you always do
Well, aren’t you gonna come over here and
turn
me
on?
My fingers graze over you
Hmmm you hum and tease
within seconds
dripping
drops
of brew
spill generously into my cup
If coffee makers could talk! Love “looking at me the way you always do,” this hints at a coveted relationship.
Lol for the love of our coffee makers. I wasn’t expecting it, was thinking maybe it was a TV or a device.
This is so realistic because when my addiction talks in the morning, I always imagine it being so considerate and loving:
“and there you are
looking at me
the way you always do”
Fantastic!
My beloved hair tie: circle, black, thin, necessary, accessory, small, stretchy, round, ponytail holder, rubber band
Free verse, alliteration, assonance
You encompass my wrist
A ring around my worries
Keeping me safe and secure
A ribbon of silent support
Am I placed in you
Or are you placed on me?
With your flexible fit
The clasp of comfort
An essential extra
Moving from hand to head
Diamond bracelets can’t do
nothin’ like you.
Angie,
I love and can so relate to the comfort provided in the first stanza. The last stanza put meaning to the object when saying it is nothing like diamonds, the hair tie has many purposes and personal connections.
Thanks for your share,
Jess
Angie,
A positive is perfect for your poem. Love the rhetorical question and the tenderness with which you address your hair clasp. Thank you.
—glenda
Object – teapot
Word list – silver, glinting, polished chrome, brushed chrome, sparkling, tea light, short and stout, squat, spout, round, mirroring, red handle, top and bottom not matching
Free verse + personification and simile
My Teapot
My friend sits over the flame
filled with sweet milky goodness
Both arms faithfully rigid
One points down like the arm of the driver
without functioning break lights
That one arm,
though the color of a stop sign,
Does not say, halt,
It says, drink up, dear
The other arm held high
waits to pour out
libations of luxury
in the morning
Denise,
I loved the personification that you brought to the teapot. When you said “That one arm, though the color of a stop sign, does not say, halt, it says drink up dear”, I really understood with my object of choosing being coffee.
Thanks for the share,
Jess
Denise,
Fabulous job. I need a teapot. I have a lot of tea from my trip to China. The metaphor in “One points down like the arm of the driver”
comparing a human arm to the teapot spout is genius. So fun. Thank you.
—glenda
“Rectangle”
So essential
Without a case brittle
Smooth like glass
Very small, not much mass
Used throughout my day
Without you, I am in dismay
A generation consumed by you
To say I wasn’t obsessed would be untrue
When did it come to this
Sometimes I want to drop you down the abyss
But you are the hand that holds my universe
The key to calling loved ones to converse
Maybe you aren’t all that bad
I just need to step back a tad
Rectangle, you are like candy
In moderation you are dandy
I enjoyed your poem very much! We had the same object. I love the 2 different takes on the same object!
This is so powerful! As I read, I knew what you were writing about, and I felt intertwined with your conflicting feelings about how you want to get rid of your phone, but it is also such a huge part of our lives. The simile of “Rectangle, you are like candy/In moderation you are dandy,” makes me think of how so much toxicity lies in addictions, but I rarely think about my technological addictions.
Kole,
Thanks for bringing so much life to this shape. I understood saying your phone is your universe. I also want to get rid of mine all the time, but who are we without them?
Jess
Kole,
This is such a fun and relatable poem! It is so true. Phones really do have their pros and cons, and you brought that to life in this rhyming poem. Great job!
Words: Kitchen table, yugoslavia, wood, desk, used, facebook marketplace, food prep, tilted legs, leaf, eat, scuffed, chairs, old, 70 years, dinner, love
Style: Acrostic, apostraphe
Keepsake passed to us from an unknown, elderly couple—
I’ve been
Told you did your job well.
Carrier of memories, I wonder
How often you brought your owners together,
Entreating them to rest, converse, seek
Nourishment, like you do for my family now.
Think of all you must have heard,
Anger, worry, joy you’ve
Been witness to—sadly, your
Legacy was lost in transition; but still, I’m
Eager to add my own chapter.
I love how this piece of furniture becomes so integral to life and togetherness. I imagined a response poem from the table’s side of things.
Hi Kari Anne! I am thrilled to participate with you today. I loved the prompt, but found myself second guessing my objects and my lists. So I sat still and stared, realizing I was watching the rain. Here it is.
Object: Rain
Sprinking
Leaves
Windy
Water
Coats
Sweater
Cars
Blowing
Cold
Showers
Form/Style: What I Want Is… (Thanks Allison, for your February prompt) and Alliteration
What I Want…
By Stacey L. Joy
What I want is
To play in puddles
To kick and splash
Their bootless feet
To call five names
For running ahead of the group
What I want is
An umbrella for the world
To take shelter
Not in place
But in memories of this sacred space
Warm blankets to cover
People who sleep on the streets
With nothing to dry their freezing feet
What I want is
God to cleanse the earth
Wash away sickness
And nourish souls and soil
So sunshine can soothe
And seeds can sprout tall
And proud like my students
Who will lock arms and splash each other again.
I love the rain and it was magical reading your poem as it pittered on my window.
sickness,souls, soil, sunshine, soothe, seeds, sprout, students, splash
I love the “s”s in your lines. The repetitive nature of the sound brings a sense of calm and tranquility.
Oh, Stacey — This is gorgeous. Really, what a beautiful poem. The image of splashing in a puddle…so innocent and now so so much of what seems removed from us. You’ve brought back the beauty in the simple rain. And the wishes for shelter and healing “not in place” but in our hearts. The hopefulness of this poem is as good as any soup I could slurp up today! Thank you for setting aside all the lists and seeing what was right smack in front of you… just lovely. Thank you. Susie
This poem is so powerful. I am sitting in my office filled with sunshine and was immediately transported to a rainy day. The poem effortlessly moves through my emotions from loss, longing, sadness, hope and nostalgia. Thank you for sharing and giving me a moment to think about my own emotions
What spirit and joy in this. Yes, I want to hang out with kids again…I’d even let them splash me.
Stacey,
Not only have you written a beautiful, generous poem, but your list also reads like a poem. My favorite part of this poem is “ What I want is “An umbrella for the world / To take / shelter / Not in place / But in memories of this sacred space.” I think this poem, and especially this passage, illustrates what a kind caregiver you are. You treat all of us in this community w/ such care. ❤️
—glenda
This is simply magnificent! I see, feel, and hear every word you wrote.
My object was my journal, and my words were Purple, Notebook, Pen, Writing, Ribbon, Words, Moleskin, Lined, Pages, Feelings, Daily, Thoughts
I wrote a haiku “sonnet” for this poem.
Innermost sanctum
Clutches my kernels of truth
From the too rough world.
Ink swiftly scribbled
tells only half the story.
Silence speaks the rest.
Days, weeks, and long months
blank; no quick notes, no rambles.
Just need to forget.
But now there is need.
Commemorate this new world.
Calm my confusion.
My sentinel is silent,
waiting for me to open.
I spent this morning catching up in my journal, and your poem describes my feelings perfectly! I love thinking of a journal as a “sentinel,” waiting for me to open it, even if I’ve neglected it. Beautiful ending couplet!!
Wow, Jessica, abandoning your list of everyday words brought out an amazing description of your trusted journal–sanctum and sentinel are amazing synonyms for this special notebook. Your first stanza says so much. The journal holds on, in fact, clutches the truth and protects it from this too rough world. That is absolutely true and beautiful.
I can relate to my journal sitting quiet in “normal” busy times. But in our need, I love this admonition to your journal: “commemorate this new world / calm my confusion.” Thank you. It is a good reminder to keep mine handy.
(Just popping in to say THESE POEMS ARE ALL SO FANTASTIC!! I want to start *every* Monday this way! 🙂 )
“Lifeline”
I need you now
more than ever
I used to worry about
just how much time
I spent with you.
Now, you are my connection
Without you,
I am alone.
You wake me up with soft sounds
You remind me that others care
You help me reach out
You urge me to get up and move
You let me see more of the world
I used to get annoyed
when you would bother me
but, not now.
When you call to me,
I am reminded that I am not alone.
My item was my phone. Quarantining alone has been tricky. I have never appreciated being able to facetime or call my friends as much as I do now.
My words: cold but warm, power, music, connection, small, heavy, hear, see, love, screentime, changing, dependent, together, apart.
Hi Kate,
I feel you. My best friend of over 40 years FaceTimed me the other day and it scared the crap out of me. My first though was someone died. Then she told me she just wanted to see faces of her loved ones. Man! I had on a bonnet and my pjs. She probably wished she had just called or sent a text. ???
I appreciate your poem for that reason. How selfish of me to worry about how frightening I may have looked when she saw me. I love that you are brutally honest in:
“I used to worry about just how much time I spent with you…” That’s the whole world, right?
Love how you humored me a bit with:
“I used to get annoyed
when you would bother me”
Now it’s a connection and a “bother” we all appreciate.
Thank you for sharing this poem. As I sit in the silence and listen to the rain, I know very soon I will be “bothered” by my life line.
Hugs from afar! ?
This is so true! I’m using my phone way more than normal right now, but I’m so thankful to have it. Just think how much harder this time would be if we didn’t have technology. I love how you start every line with “you” in your third stanza – the repetition drills in your message and each line builds on the one before it. Thanks for sharing!!
I knew it was your phone when you said “Now you are my connection/without you,/I’m alone”. I knew it was your phone because that is the other way people can connect with others now. We find connection through something we didn’t want to connect with before the quaratine. Now we need technology to live our lives. I loved the end when you said “When you call to me,/I am reminded that I am not alone”. We hate the feeling of being alone. Thank you.
The words I listed: guitar, strings, five, mahogany, patina, curved, neck, frets, bridge, hollow, acoustic, wood, polished.
MARTIN
He vowed to deliver…deliver…deliver
muffle my strokes much too clumsy
lacking the genius of much younger folks,
and let loose a sweet hum
that yielded and carried
words I needed to utter,
pluck at questions I just couldn’t shutter.
Leaning in, he offered a turn familiar
from the lathe that would cradle
my arm, spoon my breast, and bathe me
in years and years of nesting —
he came to know me, my warm spots,
till worn smooth, in a groove, we fit.
He handed me Prine, Emmylou, and Willie
Patsy, Zac, Merle and Miranda,
Dylan, Simon, we always looked back,
and into the night and on the veranda
we sent to the sky, intoxicating notes
caressing, undressing
the lines that we wrote.
This affair of the fingers and lilt in the air
pulls from the past to a now fleeting fast.
As he rests in the corner, seeking night’s dewy lips,
tomorrow we meet as if time never shallowed
just a little more sheen and body more hallowed.
Well beyond me and into the hands
of the next loving touch…
but for now, I give thanks,
I loved him so much –
for the time and just how he knew and held me
and stood by his promise,
his triple-aught vow.
by Susie Morice©
Susie, your poem made me blush. I felt as if I were a voyeur peeking at a very special relationship here- holy cow. Dare I say it, but your poem is sexy!
It was fun to think of my guitar with all the musical love! ? Susie
I love the line “just a little more sheen and body more hallowed.” There’s something about the hallowed body that sounds mellow and soft, and that follows the resting in the corner. The sensuality of the word choices (dewy, affair of the fingers, intoxicating notes) really pushes the intensity of this piece. And now, I need a cigarette or whatever the go-to is now!
LOL! Jennifer, you have me laughing out loud. Thanks!!
Susie,
You naughty girl. Such a sensual love note to the fellow you strum, caress, and stroke. You know I’m seeing Picasso’s painting of the old man and his guitar only w/ you in intimate repose w/ Martin. The line “affair of the fingers” is my favorite image in a poem full of phrases I love. This long-term relationship, a life of music, is something I’ll think about each time I see you playing and singing. Thank you.
—glenda
Thanks, Glenda, you are a dear. And I’m chuckling about that Picasso image….LOL! Love it! Susie
Kari Anne,
I have to admit that I didn’t know K.A. stood for. You have a beautiful name!
I’m kind of feeling a sense of awe that I am actually in the same “space” as you. With House Arrest being a Young Hoosier Book Award selection for last school year, it became quite popular among my 8th graders. I actually listened to it on audio, which I very much enjoyed. It’s really awesome that you joined Sarah in offering us this challenge. And, what a challenge it was. You really made me look at things and NOT use the words I typically associate with it . . . thus, figurative language and new words combinations emerged. I can see this working very well with students.
I loved your apostrophe poem . . . so much that I almost wanted to copy the idea. My favorite part of yours is
“how
can we wrestle together
to turn this Now
into tomorrow’s truth”
What a cool way of putting it.
I think it’s super cool that you still use a typewriter! It sure must bring out the genius because your words are powerful!
Thanks for much for joining us in this valued space!
Oh, Kari Anne, what a fun exercise. I think I’ll be spending more than 20 minutes today, and I welcome it. Thanks for this fun exercise. I chose my item and wrote my words before I saw I couldn’t use them.
I love your typewriter poem. And I learned about apostrophe. I guess I never knew the difference between that and personification. I learn something new every day here! This was really effective:
“Oh, smart machine,
the way you look at me,
gazing over your metal brow,”
I felt like I could see your typewriter becoming a character looking at you.
Thanks for the challenge.
My object was our backdoor that I was staring out of. The words I wrote down were wood, paint, glass, windex, knob, opens, closes, shut, frame, dirty, smudges, germs.
Form: Free verse + antithesis
Knocking
Gateway in
welcoming
travelers,
students living away,
visitors.
Gateway out
sending
loved ones
into the world,
away from the haven,
outside.
A rectangular portal
of brushed white oak
interrupted by an aperture
to give a view of the beyond
a single bronze eye
turning to
allow admittance
or being bolted
for protection
an entry point
an exit point
keeping in
keeping out
staying home
leaving home
barricading
protecting
trapping
releasing
Perspective
Susan,
You’ve done an amazing job articulating both the function of a doorway and the emotional impact of it. Favorite word: “aperture,” but I love the antithesis w/ the descending list of words. They’re a bit like a slamming door. Thank you.
—glenda
Susan, the portal of entry or exit is a nice image. I like your multi-functioning roles of the at the end! And the last word – perspective!
I loooove your use of antithesis. It makes me want to write ANTITHESIS on a sticky note and keep it on my computer so that I remember what a great (and arguably underused?) form it is. This is really nice to read aloud, as well. The rhythm of your last stanza is so energetic!
Susan — I always love the idea of a door as a wonderful entrance into so many meanings…. the “keeping in/keeping out/….barricading/protecting/trapping…” It’s just loaded with good metaphorical stuff. I love the words “portal” and “bronze eye” and “perspective” at the end that offers us a vehicle for thinking of all these meanings. Thanks! Susie
WE NEED YOU!
There you stand sexy and bright
Ready to bring me light when it’s night.
Curvacious and zaftig, oh how you glow!
Crowned with a linen skirt, blanchy like snow.
Thin steel arms extend out stiffly.
A tiny button turns you on quickly.
What would I do without your beauty?
On dark nights, I could not do my duty,
Sending out letters and sending out notes
Reminding my friends to research for their votes.
We’ve got to express ourselves on the ballot
We’ve got to see that life’s’ more than a shallot.
We must peel back the layers and get to the core.,
Learn the truth about government; there’s so much more.
There you stand, firm and strong.
You’ve kept me company for oh so long
Listening with me to many a song
While I’m stuck inside away from the throng.
Shine on, my friend, keep bringing me light.
Push back the night; keep my smile bright.
Anna, the apostrophe and the personification of the lamp pushing back the night – and standing sexy and bright – ready to be turned on – that gives an allusion of romance! I love it. The metaphor of life to a shallot with more layers to get to truth. Really nice device in this today!
This particular line stands out to me: “On dark nights, I could not do my duty,” because of how many meanings it can hold. It’s lovely in its complex simplicity. Well done.
Hi, Anna — I enjoyed thinking about that light… and light… those other enlightenments … the things that we take for granted — something that seems so simple and yet now so much is called into question. I love your connection of light to knowing the truth… now at this pivotal time in our lives, it has never mattered more. Leaving us with the “smile” that comes with light seems so fitting. Just right! Thank you, Susie
“Shine on, my friend, keep bringing me light.
Push back the night; keep my smile bright.”
I love these last two lines in your poem. The personification in your poetry brings this lamp to life. A simple object but it holds so much power for us. Thank you!
I just love the line, “curvacious and zaftig, oh how you glow!”
The object is my purple theraband that I keep on my desk to remind me to take breaks throughout the day to do yoga poses so that my sciatic nerve does not act up. Here are my words: ribbon, bow, eggplant, twist, stretch, snap, loop, resistance, thera, dyna, bridge, hips, position, piriformis syndrome, spine to femur, hip rotate, lateral step.
Form: Pantoum + personification
The chair calls your name to write again.
The blank page awaits. Sit. Begin.
Fingers speak stories, a writer’s trance.
Ache. Radiate. Enough for today. Stand.
The blank page awaits. Sit. Begin.
Craft words from trauma, love, sin.
Ache. Radiate. Enough for today. Stand.
Nurture the body that held your hands.
Craft words from trauma, love, sin.
Move beings into spaces to face fears.
Nurture the body that held your hands.
Mountain. Bridge. Warrior. Child’s.
Move beings into spaces to face fears.
Fingers speak stories, a writer’s trance.
Mountain. Bridge. Warrior. Child’s.
The chair calls your name to write again.
Oh, my goodness… a pantoum! I love them–but they take me a lot of thinking and time to craft. This is beautiful. I especially feel “Fingers speak stories, a writer’s trance.” Isn’t that the truth? That chair calling–
Good morning Sarah! I love pantoums! It’s been a long time since I’ve written one. Doubt that’ll be my choice today since I am already second guessing my lists and objects. I love that your poem speaks to us as writers. You are literally moving all of us “into spaces to face fears.” I love it!!!
Your poem should become my list of daily reminders:
1. “The blank page awaits. Sit. Begin.”
2. “Craft words from trauma, love, sin.”
3. “Nurture the body that held your hands.”
4. “The chair calls your name to write again.”
5. “STAND.”
Thank you! ☺️
Sarah,
I feel all the feels in your poem. Seems teachers and writers and desk-dwellers suffer the same piriformus pain. The repetition underscores the circular nature of writing and the repetitive poses in yoga. “Fingers speak stories,” is my favorite phrase here, a reminder we have more than one way to lift our voices.
Thank you.
—glenda
Sarah, I’m so sorry about the piriformis. That’s what took me away from running. I sat on a table with a rubber ball under the muscle and swung my leg and hoped there weren’t hidden cameras from some reality TV show sneaking footage. I sympathize. I love the pantoum – it grabs! My favorite lines are
Move beings into spaces to face fears.
Fingers speak stories, a writer’s trance
The idea of facing fears through spacial beings and seeing the scenes play out as you sit trancelike is a perfect snapshot of a writer at work!
A pantoum! Be still my heart! Your first and last lines create such a wonderful recursiveness – how I love that you begin the poem bringing me into your writing day – and you bring me right back in at the end. It’s a masterful way to evoke hope.
Sarah — I love how you bring us to the call to write, bringing life to “spaces to face fears.” Yes! There’s a cadence here that keeps this moving in a sense of repetition and duty. I like the single words and periods that halt…very reflective of the mess that is writing and the calling to tend to what needs to get said. Thanks, Susie
Poem Without Words
By Shaun Ingalls
Several aspens skirt the foothills
A simple painting
A parting memento from a seldom seen friend
The sun is rising
The fire has not yet been started
Birdsong begins to harmonize with the babbling brook
Oil on canvas convey peace and serenity
A moment captured in time
Above the mantle
It calls out
Come, weary traveler. Drink some tea with us
Shaun,
What a beautifully crafted alliterative line: Birdsong begins to harmonize with the babbling brook.
Even though I am not there, I feel the movement of the brook and how the birds are working with the water to ‘get along.” Wish the birds and brooks of our world all worked so well together.
Peace,
Sarah
Shaun,
A poem framing nature framing a work of art is a clever (postmodern?) approach. Wonderful details replicating the art. I’d call this ekphrastic poetry.
—glenda
Shaun, I love the 4d feel of the life you bring to this painting, parting gift from a seldom
Seen friend who may be out there lurking in the trees. I have read this several times and I keep hearing how the Long I sounds are so appealing. Love the alliteration and the idea of having a cup of hot tea in place of the fire that has yet to start – and that the weary traveler can find a place of rest and comfort. That makes my feet feel good!
Shaun — I really liked the painting being a “poem without words” … lovely. You put it to story and what is frozen in place in the painting becomes so much more…we hear birds, water, see light. How right to end with tea. It has that serenity that comes with the almost haiku-like image. Thanks for sharing the picture over the mantle. Susie
What a beautiful poem and ode to this painting. I have reread your lines to try to imagine this beautiful image. “Birdsong begins to harmonize with the babbling brook” makes me feel like I’m floating in this painting. Thank you for sharing.
I find, what I’m drawn to with this poem is how the painting is from a seldom seen friend, and how at the end you’re greeting a weary traveler. The assonance of these phrases connect them in such a lovely, subtle way, I wish they’d lead into a poem of their own. 🙂
Your words paint a picture – your poem creates a picture within a picture
I chose to write a Fib (Fibonacci) poem.
This prompt was a brain twister that sent me scrolling through the thesaurus. I chose to write about my bed because it’s where I write my poems most mornings. I use the notes app on my phone.
“My Bed“
Kip
Skip
Cloud crowd
Relax rack
Chimera cradle
Respite in royal repose doze.
*kip is a British word for nap.
My words:
Sleep
Snooze
Snore
Sheets
Blanket
Silk
Comforter
White
King
High
Adjustable
Ken
Bipap
Breathe
Dog
Cat
Nightstand
Light
Make
Rest
—glenda
So fun, Glenda, and I love learning new words — thanks for the asterisk. “Chimera cradle” is really something!
I started with a Fib today and switched to Etheree.
You introduced both of those forms – and I love them! Your fib is fab today – your alliteration and the lilt of each word flows
And makes us think! Respite in royal repose has me thinking of you – Sleeping Beauty!
Glenda, your word choices are stellar. I love fib poems, and almost chose them for my post today! I love how it feels to say “kip skip” — it has the energy one needs when we skip our kip. 😉
Glenda – How delightful is this! I love the wordplay. You sure do know what you’re doing! I can imagine that @royal repose doze.” Thanks! Susie
Glenda, we get to know you a bit more in this sweet Fibonacci poem this morning. Thanks for sharing. It reminds me of Kim’s “Funny Farm Footwear” today. Beautiful images of rest and repose. I can see why you needed a thesaurus–your first list was seemingly exhaustive. But you took the challenge. Great work, and this playful poem is fun to read aloud.
Kari Ann, thank you for giving us the opportunity of looking in a new way at an everyday object. Your use of apostrophe (a device my students struggle to identify easily) makes clear its strength in poetry. Your use of Then, Now, Hows layers that apostrophe. I love the use of “metal brow.”
Format: Free Form
Device: apostrophe, metaphor
Untold
Damn you, manuscript.
You taunt
from a place of prominence.
Your position in my life
a constant reminder
of what we haven’t finished.
I’m the one who placed you there,
invited you in,
gave breath to you.
Your presence
a mental thorn,
pricking both fingertips
and imagination,
poking persistently.
A mind stalker.
We share a turbulent relationship.
A push/pull of love/hate.
I yearn to return to you.
And you!
You cannot survive without me.
Wow, Jennifer. This is so much like how I feel with writing that needs to be finished. I really like the “pricking both fingertips” and “mind stalker” because you just never know when words that work are going to find you or me….usually when I’m busy doing other things! Stinkers. Wishing you luck with getting more words to work to your satisfaction today. These are doing just fine!
Jennifer,
Bravo! An apostrophe is a perfect form for taking out your frustrations in your manuscript. I’d love to hear what it said in response! Love the “mind stalker” metaphor and this one:
“Your presence
a mental thorn,
pricking both fingertips”
I feel you. *Cough. Looks around at unfinished writing.*
—glenda
That first line, Jennifer — “Damn you, manuscript” — and then later “a mind stalker”! This is just perfect.
Sarah
Jennifer, you hit the bullseye with this one! I love a poem that starts with Damn (it’s appealing to the rebellious side of my preacher’s kid soul). The love/hate and push/pull of writing is captured so truthfully here. It’s like a sore tooth that we can’t leave alone – the inability to resist mild pain. Those unfinished manuscripts – pieces calling. Things that have to happen before we can finish. I enjoy the apostrophe, the paradox, the alliteration, and metaphor as a beautiful blending here!
Jennifer, what a great love/hate relationship you have described. You have effectively shown this in how the manuscript taunts from a place of prominence, and then you remind it that you are the one who placed it in prominence, “invited you in, gave breath to you” — powerful. Our fingertips and imaginations have been pricked by mental thorns. This is all so relatable and well-told.
Wow, I really love “mental thorn”. It is perfectly evocative of knowing you have an unfinished manuscript poking at you! I also really enjoy this turn of phrase: “I yearn to return to you”. I like how it stretches like taffy as I say it — the lengthening vowel sounds are like fingers reaching to pluck that thorn!
Ha! This had me snickering from the opening line. Especially since I have an inside scoop to your “relationship” with your writing. I love how you call out the manuscript in the opening line, yet put it in its place in the final line with “You cannot survive without me.” Take that manuscript! It’s like all of those unfinished tasks that taunt us and haunt our minds as “mental thorn(s).” The lines “I’m the one who placed you there/invited you in/gave breath to you” parallels that “constant reminder” to all those projects we bring into our lives. We have great intentions, but then life gets in the way, and we don’t get to put our energy into our greatest passions. Thanks for sharing your battle with us today!
Jennifer —. This is such a real argument…needling you. I so admire that you’ve given life to this sort of Frankenstein-esque creature. That manuscript is just in “incubation “ and you’ll give it that jolt of energy when you’re darn good and ready. Hang in there! Your life as a poet is taking an important role just now…and we are all better for it! Hugs to you and the monster thorn! ???? Great piece!! Susie
Susie, thanks for these words today. They are both calming and reaffirming.
Kari Anne. Forgive me for a tiny fan-girl moment. I’m a middle school librarian…and my students love you. My reading teachers love you. I’m just having a fan-girl moment. Thanks for indulging me.
Kim nailed the feeling of brain workout! Yikes. My first moment of panic was, “what object?” Then, I chose the fortune cookie fortunes my kid had lined up like a found poem to take a photo of from two nights ago. None of my family of six has swept up those wrappers and thrown them away yet.
THEN, my list of words was
Back to basics–object = Fortune cookie fortune
Paper slip
Fortunefamily dinner
Kitchen table
Lucky numbers
Dessert
Sweet part of cookie
Random wisdom
Blue ink
Happywhat’s yours?
Yum
Vanilla
Crisp
Half-circle
Shoot! I want to use some of those words, man! But I kept going with a free verse with a bit of alliteration with “comedic karma.” But, I re-read your poem and saw that if I just let my brain relax, I could just write and see what happens. I’m happy with the result. You are a good teacher!
Fortune Cookie Wisdom
I couldn’t toss it
bit of comedic karma
left behind
amid wrappers
spilled hoisin sauce
napkins and chopsticks.
Everyone in the next room
settling into a viewing
of The Princes Bride
–a script we know by heart
except me, with a wet rag
picking up
wiping down
finding this
tiny prescription
read and forgotten
“Don’t panic.”
(c) Linda Mitchell 4/6/20
Linda,
“Comedic karma” and “tiny prescription” are brilliant metaphors for a fortune cookie prophesy. The story your poem tells about your family is lovely. It really gives us insight into who you are. Thank you.
—glenda
How prophetic of that fortune! – and calling it a tiny prescription, especially in these times, is perfect! I love your story behind the writing. You have crafted an image so relatable. Somehow, family members seem to disappear after eating. “Everyone in the next room settling into a viewing…” Yep. Yep. Yep. We can translate your not knowing the script many ways (you don’t like the film, you never watch since you’re the cleaner-upper) and I appreciate that we can do so. Thank you for this reminder to not panic today!
Linda, I like the allusion to “spilled hoisin sauce” being sort of a foreshadowing of spilling the beans on the future. That idea of a tiny prescription is making me think of an Indian in the Cupboard sized doctor writing it and stuffing it in a cookie as a remedy for today. This is classic – and to think you did this without your original word list! That’s a winner right there.
Linda,
It was a brain workout, wasn’t it? I really enjoyed today’s challenge.
That is some Fortune Cookie Wisdom. The ending is perfect for this chapter in our lives. I like that you called it a tiny prescription, read and forgotten, but you brought it back to life with your poem. Lovely.
Thank you for your fangirling, Linda. 🙂
You’ve done a stellar job here – “tiny prescription” is so lovely and evocative. I love the idea that a prescription is usually something we are given as a cure or as a symptom reliever, and while this prescriptive “don’t panic” may not be a cure or even a relief from the “symptoms” wrought by familial expectations, it does provide hope – which is such a perfect (and timely) note to end on.
Kari Anne, what a brain workout this morning! I watched my popped word balloon plummet to the ground with all my original words: dog walking boots, Timberlands, Michelin Tire Boy, Dumb and Dumber, waterproof bottoms, 7 1/2, Salvation Army $5 find, farm-perfect (I only used the word Farm in my title). Your mentor poem using the Then, Now, and How, were questions I found myself asking of my pen and journal as I wrote. Thanks for the beautiful guidance in your mentor poem- and for stretching us with brain calisthenics to start our days.
Format: Etheree Poem
Literary Device: Alliteration
Funny Farm Footwear
slop
sloggers
mud muckers
feeding-time frump
goofy galoshes
whimsical wellingtons
witty wide water waders
camel-colored chicken coop cleats
her hilarious homestead hikers
frivolously funny fieldwork footwear
What fun! You’ve taken a work-wear item (sloggers, mud muckers) and allowed us to feel more fondly toward them with humor (feeding-time frump, chicken coop cleats). The alliteration adds a tongue-in-cheek bit of Odgen Nash sort of humor too. This made me smile today!
Kim,
Your poem is so fun, and I’m thrilled to see the Etheree working to create this whimsical poem. The alliteration adds to the fun. I love every line and have a vision of you slogging and skipping in your “mud muckers.” My favorite, however, is “feeding time frump.” Thank you.
—Glenda
ohmygosh, this gave me a giggle! And, I have a new love of writing etherees. I couldn’t agree with you more that this morning was a real brain work-out…and I LOVED IT.
The words in your poem that make me smile…whimsical wellingtons, goofy galoshes….and best, chicken coop cleats! Bwahahahaha.
Kim, this is a fun poem to read. The alliteration is perfect, and the Etheree is perfect for this poem. “Chicken coop cleats” “homestead hikers” – I would love to pair this with my lesson on euphemisms.
Kim,
I bet this was so fun for you to write. I love the alliteration. It is certainly fun to read aloud! How is it that you could find so many describing words and new names for your dog-walking boots? Amazing exercise this morning, wasn’t it? You really could write it without any of your initial description. “Slop sloggers / Mud muckers” really gets the poem going, and then to see you able to continue it for the whole Etheree was a satisfying read.
Kim — This one kicks right along like a mouthful of sweet jellybeans… just fun and sugary. The repetition of sounds and the growing syllables of the etheree are just dandy! It screams “read me again and read me louder this time” because the words are FUN! Totally giggly fun! Delightful poem! Susie
Thank you for joining me in some brain Jazzercise today. 😉
The bouncing delight one gets from saying “slop sloggers mud muckers feeding-time frump” is like the mental version of physically stomping in a messy puddle. You can’t help but giggle. Lovely work. 🙂