This is the Open Write, a place for educators to nurture their writing lives and to advocate for writing poetry in community. We are organizing 30 days of poetry in April for National Poetry Month: Verselove. Pledge here to write one or more poems with us.

Our Host

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD, is a former junior English language arts teacher of fifteen years and current Associate Professor of Secondary English Education at Oklahoma State University (since 2019). She wrote the young adult novel, Alone Together (2018) and is the co-author on several books on poetry Rhyme and Rhythm: Poems for Student Athletes, Teachers Writing to Bridge the Distance, 90 Ways of Community, and Words that Mend. Two forthcoming books include Teaching Poetry in a Digital World: Inspiring Poetry Writing through Technology in Grades 6-12 and Writing to Learn Across Content Areas: Poetry as Formative Assessment. Sarah is the founder of Ethical ELA, a free resource for ELA educators to write poetry in community.

Inspiration

Citizen of Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma, Christine Hartman Derr writes in “A Place to Breathe” (see the original poem for spacing and italics):

Off the path,
behind some trees,
a clearing sits
and waits for me.

A forest symphony,
a place for finding tohi.
Here
I can simply be 

(Click the link above for the full poem and listen to Christine read the poem with Cherokee language in the interview below.)

Process

Sometimes I find that I am holding my breath throughout the day or in certain situations. I have to actually remind myself to exhale to breathe, to take a deep inhale and feel my lungs filling up. I can do that anywhere, but there are places where I just know I will be alright and don’t have to remind myself to breathe.

  • Where or what are the places that wait for you?
  • Where are the places and who are the people around which you can simply be?

Write in any form you wish or borrow Christine’s first lines to get you started. You can try some rhyme in the first stanza if you want to see how it feels in your writing today.

Sarah’s Poem

In the dark
under covers
a stillness holds
and waits for me.

Behind my eyelids
a place of darkness
I choose to travel
with my blood.

Here
I can follow the flow
inhaling rhythms
muscling toward toes

Those partial thoughts
that whisper of doubt
drown in the streams
carrying life

The tour of fingers
writing fiction tingles
blades pulling down
shouldered worries

One more breath
catches in my throat
and I turn over
for rest.

Your Turn

Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to 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. 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. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers.

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Glenda Funk

Sarah,
I love the mentor poem as well as your elegant, gentle verse. I took a different approach than the one suggested in the prompt.

Then Breathe Now….

Imagine holding his 
hair-plugged head 
underwater 

Dream of plopping a 
fluffy memory foam 
pillow over his face

Envision plugging his
piggish snout with 
o. b. tampons

Think how easy
it is to breathe in 
the before & after

Glenda Funk
3-16-25

Leilya Pitre

Sorry, I am late, but here. My second daughter with her family arrived at Colorado today, so we are all together in Colorado Springs for tonight, and then I have to leave tomorrow. But today I am happy, I have my oldest daughter Dilya with her husband David; and my youngest Jana with her husband Anatoliy, and their two children Polina, 9, and Misha, 7. I asked all of them to write me what’s there favorite place to be where they feel happy and can breathe freely. This is what we got together in haikus:

Where We Belong

Sunlit road ahead,
wind brushes against my face—
freedom rides with me. (David)

Furry warmth beside,
purring echoes through my home,
soft paws, restful soul. (Dilya)

City lights ahead,
midnight hum, and coffee steam,
thoughts drift with the road. (Anatoliy)

Quiet fills the room,
kids asleep, the dishes done—
a moment to breathe. (Jana)

Gym floor springs beneath,
leaping toward my daydream—
gold within my reach. (Polina)

Running, jumping, strong,
sky above and earth below,
moving feels like flight. (Misha)

Laughter, voices, jokes,
hearts at peace beneath one roof,
love is home to me. (Leilya)

Denise Krebs

Leilya, this is a precious and sacred family activity. I love that you thought of it. Your culminating haiku says it all, doesn’t it?

Glenda Funk

Leilya,
I love the celebration of family in your haiku, each a breath of and from family. I know having them with you makes breathing easier, despite being in the mile high city!

Natalie

The Joys
Waves rush on the sandy shore, 
My mind is at peace once more. 
The ocean calls to me, 
Here’s where I breathe free.

My heart’s arms hold tight,
My worries lift and I sleep through the night.
Confiding in him as there is a tear,
Vanishing is all my anxiety and fear.

Family land is sitting still,
Positioned on top of the hill.
Far from city noise,
Simple little country joys.

When life becomes too much,
I seek these places’ touch.
Each breath comes easy there,
No weight of daily care.

Anna Roseboro

Natalie, your lovely poem helped relax me because evoked for me peaceful times on the beach. Especially good today because of the snow, wind and rain we had here in West Michigan.

Denise Krebs

Natalie, lovely and peaceful joys you write about. I love in the last stanza how the places touch you. Breathe freely, my friend.

Leilya Pitre

Natalie, thank you for such a beautiful, relaxing poem. It reminded me of our time on a beach too. I like how skillfully your used rhyming; it creates such a cadence where I can slow down and let my eyes follow and easily breathing with you.

Mo Daley

Blink
By Mo Daley 3/16/25

My new eye doctor was shocked
at the state of my eyes—
not with my vision,
which hasn’t changed in years,
but the physical condition of my eyeballs.
She prescribed medications
for the severe dryness
which could have a multitude of causes.
Then she told me to remind myself to blink.
“Huh?” I sputtered.
Did she think me a fool who needed a reminder
to blink?
I chuckled to myself,
used the drops as prescribed
and began to blink consciously throughout the day.
I took in more with each
pause and blink
pause and blink
pause and blink
and I’m feeling refreshed
in so many ways.

Denise Krebs

Mo, what a great topic for your poem. I love the repetition of “pause and blink” as it invites the reader to do it with you. So glad you took the doctor’s advice.

Susie Morice

Mo – This is sooo interesting! Blink! I’m wondering about my eyes… “dry eye” has been a fairly recent phrase from my Dr as well. But the idea of consciously blinking… lots to think about on several levels. Hugs, Susie

Leilya Pitre

Who would knew, Mo? As I read your poem, I, too, began to blink consciously. Maybe it will do the trick. Your poems are always so refreshingly surprising 🙂 Thank you!

Glenda Funk

Mo,
Ive had really dry eyes since my cataract surgery, so I totally get the blinking and breathing cadence in your poem.

Denise Krebs

Sarah, what an important topic for poetry. I need to remember to breathe. I read the prompt this morning, and I thought about it in church. Sometimes lately, I don’t even breathe in God’s presence. But today I tried. Thank you.

The images in your poem are life-giving. My favorite today is

that whisper of doubt

drown in the streams

carrying life

Para Dios
Even when cosas son mal
the body of agua won’t part
las montañas won’t move
Even when no entiendo
Confiaré,
confiaré,
confiaré en ti
I will trust in you
I will rest in you
I will breathe in you

Thank you, Denise, for your reflection and contemplation in this poem. The repetition helps me feel your spirituality and invites me to breathe alongside this poem.

Dave Wooley

Denise,
This is a beautiful prayer that you have composed. Thank you for this.

Gayle j sands

Denise—I swear this slowed my breathing as I read. What peace you give here.

Mo Daley

Yes, Denise. Exactly what Gayle said. Lovely.

Susie Morice

Denise- This carries a very touching sense of beauty and peace. The repetition and el español feels just right. ¡Gracias! Susie

Susan O

This praise to God is so refreshing in Spanish. It made me feel confident and that life is solid.

Leilya Pitre

Denise, your poem is soothing and helping me follow you as you trust, rest, and breathe into divine. Thank you for such a gift today.

Glenda Funk

Denise,
Those final three lines are lovely.

Barb Edler

Sarah, thank you for hosting and offering this wonderful prompt and introducing me to Christine Derr’s poetry. I’ve been thinking a lot about a solo vacation which inspired my triolet today.

a gentle breeze caresses my face
beneath a tropical sun
I sip an exotic drink and trace
the gentle breeze caressing my face
relishing the inviting landscape
I breathe deep, a party of one
a gentle breeze caresses my face
beneath a tropical sun

Barb Edler
16 March 2025

Leilya Pitre

Barb, I want to be with you experiencing this “gentle breeze… beneath a tropical sun.” I am afraid I might distract you from relaxing though )). Your place to be sounds amazingly peaceful. Thank you!

Susan O

Yes! “A gentle breeze caresses my face” are the perfect words of peace and contentment.

Barb,

Oh, I feel that “party of one” and feel a deep longing for “tropical sun.” Aaaahhh.

Peace,
Sarah

Stacey Joy

Did you write this just for me??? Oh, how I love a tropical sun and all the things that it brings. Your triolet speaks to my tired teacher’s heart.♥️

Mo Daley

I’m sitting here where it’s 33 degrees and I’m cheering you on. Do it! Do it! I say go for it. Treat yourself!

Natalie

Hello Barb! I relate to your poem; it was extremely easy to imagine myself “beneath the tropical sun.” I also find much peace in the thought of a vacation like this!

Denise Krebs

Oh, a triolet invites gentle breezes and breathing relaxed and happy. I hope you get to take this solo vacation, Barb.

Susie Morice

Aaaah, Barb – Your poem brings out a long sigh of relief, just so lovely. The repetition brings that caress… that really works. Love, Susie

Glenda Funk

Barb,
I’ve been longing to solo travel but don’t know how to tell Ken. Your poem is idyllic. I can feel the sun and breeze in your words. Gorgeous imagery.

Susie Morice

[Sarah, the images in your poem are moving and real. “The tour of fingers…” my favorite. The sense that I was breathing with you was visceral when I read this this morning. It felt so familiar to me. Thank you, Susie]

BREATHE

It was shellshock:
difficult to breathe,
blindsided,
hyper-ventilating;

81 pages of secret email
spewed from the printer;
I jumped from word to word
my chest pounding with every phrase
slathered in the stench
of their smarmy proclamations;

I felt the toxins rise in my throat,
putrefied ejaculations of betrayal,
projectile vomiting in the toilet
with my marriage;
I sprawled on the cold tile
of the bathroom floor
until I hoisted myself to the sink,
stared in the mirror;
I wasn’t even the same color
I was the day before.

I must eject myself from this house,
from these walls,
from the presence of our years of
…of … what?
…what had it been?
…over a decade of blind dedication
and seeming “best days of my life,”
suddenly down the soil pipe of
what was not
a marriage;
instead a litany of deceits,
lies,
subterfuge.

I don’t even remember driving,
don’t remember how
I held the pages in my hands,
but in a sacred place
on the bench in the shade of the park’s trees,
planted for protection,
beauty,
color,
I sat,
those pages in my lap,
staring over the city
all the way the to the Arch
until my heart re-found its rhythm
and the sun set behind me,
leaving me there in the dark
as the lights began to twinkle
from lamp post to lamp post,
high-rise to high-rise,
from Art Hill to the eastern horizon,
and the reality of a dead marriage
settled over me,
giving way
to a new life
that began at that moment.

by Susie Morice, March 16, 2025©

Barb Edler

Oh, Susie, your poem is raw, emotional and inspiring. From the opening horror to the flight for safety, I feel each word. Your words vividly describe the whirl of questions, feelings of betrayal, and the sense of coming back to yourself, ready to move on to a better place. I know you are in that new life now and appreciate the strength that must have taken to take control to create this new direction. Your poem is compelling and packed with every emotion. I love how your details show St. Louis and your ability to find your breath after being shellshocked. Hugs, friend!

Susie,

I held my breath all the way through this poem. It felt like an exhale of a life unraveling “deceit” toward a “re-found” toward “twinkle” toward “new life.” I felt the grief, yes, the breath of a former life leaving and then I felt that new. I am not sure if this is your life, but I am sure glad you have had this path that led us toward one another and toward all the music and art you’ve created that has given me and others so much joy.

Peace,
Sarah

Gayle j sands

Oh, Susie. Wow. I felt your pain, your betrayal. Your last lines show the strength that has carried you forward—“giving way to a new life that began at that moment” again—wow.

Dave Wooley

Susie,

First of all this is a gripping narrative. But, to echo Barb, it is raw and heartbreaking and inspiring. You move from shock to purgation to renewal in this. I love those last three lines.

Stacey Joy

I wasn’t even the same color

I was the day before.

Susie, Susie, Susie! You know I know this pain all too well. My heart raced with every line. I wanted to pick you up and hold you, then I wanted to kick him in the shins!

What a ride. And in the end, you begin again!

giving way

to a new life

that began at that moment.

I hear you roar, my friend! 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

Mo Daley

Holy shit, Susie! Your poem and this story are so intense. Your readers can’t help but feel what you/the narrator felt. Thank you for sharing this poem today. ❤

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Oh, Susie. I feel this pain, reside within it through your words. I admire the strength–that’s what it is that gets one through–in fighting to get through, to finding a way to begin again. There’s something to be said in resurrecting from flames. Our lives, it seems, are a continual beginning and ending, even as we find ourselves stronger and more ourselves throughout the process. Hugs.

Denise Krebs

Oh, my gosh, Susie. Wow, what a poem, what a betrayal. And what healing and hope and health even as you finish up with “to a new life / that began at that moment.” Perfect. And I love the period at the end of your poem. These lines:

I felt the toxins rise in my throat,

putrefied ejaculations of betrayal,

projectile vomiting in the toilet

with my marriage;

Wow.

Glenda Funk

Susie,
Like you, I was in a toxic marriage. Reading this I thought about what Taylor Swift says, “Eventually, trash takes itself out.” I love all the St. Louis images in your poem and think of being st the arch and breathing in the beauty of the sky, of the arch’s symbolism, of my memories of my home state. I get emotional thinking about all that has changed.

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Sarah, I needed to rest first. We had our Michigan Council Spring conference this weekend. … but here we are, marching together through the month of March … with all its madness.

Cooling It

In the room on the other floor
Riding my cycle, I can think more.
Though I’m resting, I’m reinvesting
Because I have time to think.

Listening to hymns of the faith
I’m reminded I’m not alone.
I can call on my Creator
Or call a friend on the phone.

Sitting in front of the TV each evening
Watching the news with my Honey
I breathe in deeply when listening
And hearing something funny.

Can’t ride, listen, or view too long
Soon I remember something is wrong
But by that time I will have rested
A topic comes in which I’m invested

I can use the energy that I have revived.
This let’s me know that I have thrived
On riding, and listening, and watching TV
Now I can return to doing and being me.

Riding-Exercycle-2025

Oh, Anna, that wise beautiful phrase “though I’m resting, I’m reinvesting” resonates.

Barb Edler

Anna, love the way you have crafted this poem and show the process of how you handle the things that may be troubling you. Loved the final stanza showing how you have been able to thrive by riding and listening and watching tv.

Natalie

Hello Anna! Your poem is beautiful, and it truly resonates with me. This makes me appreciate how mental and physical health depend on each other!

Dave Wooley

Sarah,

Thank you for this prompt and your poem!

Breath Control

One of the true measures
of an emcee is breath control
the practiced, precise ability 
to recite rhymes without pausing
to take a breath. 

This is no parlor trick. 
It is all about a mastered control. 
Taking in breaths, imperceptible
to the listener, while allowing internal rhymes and complex polyrhythmic
phrasing to bounce through the bar
structure like excited electrons loop
fusing new biochemical connections. 

It allows the emcee almost total control in that space,
Like a horn player Bird-bound 
in a solo, or a singer sustaining an impossibly long note, 
in that transcendent moment controlling time and
controlling space and
controlling the ear and
the emotions of the listener. 

If only that control
could be applied 
To life 
beyond the bars 
of the song
Which can so often 
Leave us struggling 
And gasping
For breath. 

Gayle j sands

Dave— I love the way music is infused in your poetry. I had never considered that control. And don’t we all wish we could control our lives…

Dave, This is a lovely Ode to breath of spoken word and emcee-ing. And that turn to imagine such discipline and “mastered control” to life offers us a metaphor for our life choices.

Susie Morice

Dave — Oooo, this is a marvelous take on the whole business of “breath.” It rings so true…the physicality of breathing and mastering it in a task…I do a lot of singing, and maybe like the “emcee[ing]” it is very much about control that takes a ton of practice. I particularly love the “Bird-bound” music reference. You’ve give us a terrific anatomy lesson here…I love this. And…in the end, “If only…could be applied.” For sure. Very cool poem! Thank you, Susie

Denise Krebs

Dave, the first three stanzas made me realize how much I don’t know about public speaking. You have nailed it, but then that last stanza. “If only…”

Stefani B

Sarah, thank you for bringing forth Christine’s poem and yours to help us focus on our breath today.

ease | fresh | flow
our mantras for the year
individual | together
three who breathe in sync
in professional community
academic meditation | adult sel
vulnerable eyes closed
in | out | in | out | self-paced
rumbling in the halls as students
move in their own sync | to | fro | to | fro
checking in on our
breaths | on each other
making space          |
ease | fresh | flow

Stefani, I am loving this perpendicular slash (which likely has a name) in the way it serves to punctuate and decorate and symbolize parallels and divisions and breaths and time. Love that you closed with “flow” and no final mark.

Stacey Joy

Stef,
Yes! If I were in your work space, I would be right there breating in sync with you. This is golden:

academic meditation | adult sel

vulnerable eyes closed

in | out | in | out | self-paced

💛

Anna Roseboro

Stephanie, your poem reminded me of our state conference in Michigan. The theme had to do with the value of community.
Attending a conference is one thing.

Professional community
Academic meditation

Living the theme with folks like you and those here in Open Write makes the experience more than words on a screen.

Dave Wooley

Hi Stefani,

Like Sarah, I’m really taken by the use of the slashes. I love the work that they do in the poem, especially the line about “making space”. I also love the idea of breathing in community that your poem explores and celebrates.

Erica J

I appreciated the mentor poems today — they gave me a moment to reflect on this question and I knew immediately what I wanted to write about. Someone who has been inspiring a lot of my poetry writing lately and I even shared a moment like this just yesterday which was the first thing that came to mind.

When I’m With You by Erica J
They say that a weight
pressing on your chest
holds you down — repressive.
But when I enfold upon you
like a weighted blanket
I find that weight in return,
reassuring, reminding
me that you and I are here
right here in this moment
together.

I breathe easier
when I’m next to you
because I’m next to you
and I can just be
and we can just breathe.
No expectations, obligations
just respirations.

And I am not achingly alone,
but part of a comfortable companionship,
breathing together.

Susan

You are certainly blessed!

Stefani B

Erica, you remind us how the physical connection with others can bring such calm and safety. Thank you for sharing today.

Erica, I like thinking through this as literal (a gym weight, a person) and figurative (self, confidence, love). There is choice and agency in their “I enfold upon you.”

Susan O

That is a wonderful place to be, not achingly alone and with a companion that has no expectations. Beautiful!

Stacey Joy

Lovvvely! I hope you shared this with your companion. These lines are soothing to my soul.

No expectations, obligations

just respirations.

Natalie

Hi Erica! I also found someone to be a place of comfort for me. Your writing captures all of the feelings I feel when thinking of this person. Your poem is beautiful!

gayle sands

A Place to Breathe

There was a pond behind our house
I would hike across Mr. Leet’s field,
up over the hill and through the trees.

I could no longer see my tiny house. 
and no one knew exactly where I was.
I was…free

With a wax-paper-wrapped sandwich 
a thermos of water, 
an old quilt,
and a book.
I had everything I needed.

The tiny pond was hidden from the road.
Pussy willows and tall grass surrounded it.
Frogs and fish splashed in it. 
Nobody bothered us.

The farm cat sometimes came 
and wound around my legs.
I spread my blanket in a hollow, 
and I read.

The sky was a painting you wouldn’t think was real.
Fluffy cotton clouds, blue sky, sun peeking through.
There was no noise 
except a cricket’s hop or a frog’s harrumph.
And I read.

It has been more than fifty years, 
since that peace.
A pond up on a hill, a breeze drifting over me, 
a cat purring beside me, 
Clouds and sun shining and quiet.
And a book to read.

And I read.

Gayle Sands
3-16-25

Sharon Roy

Gayle,

Your poem makes me happy. I can picture the pond and feel the heft if your treasures:

With a wax-paper-wrapped sandwich 

a thermos of water, 

an old quilt,

and a book.

I had everything I needed.

I can feel your joy from and gratitude for this simple things and your pleasure at the independence of exploring nature alone:

no one knew exactly where I was.

I was…free

And I absolutely love your ending:

And I read.

Fantastic!

Stefani B

Gayle, your poem has me reflecting on how often people now are never “free” and in a place where no one knows exactly where they are. With technology, this experience is often limited and often not even a consideration–so sad for those who have never felt this. Thank you for sharing today.

Gayle, I love every object included in this scene, the way your writing helps me as a reader fill out the image with each detail so that I was welcome in this memory as if it were my own. Lovely.

Susie Morice

Gayle — This is beautiful. Each of the memories takes me back to those years as a kid…the “waxed paper…” and all the nature images…we could easily have been neighbors down the road. I love the present and past tense of “read” at the end… very well done. I wish that every kid in the schools today had this tone of love of reading. We’d be in a different spot were that to happen. Let’s hope we can pass this on to as many young folks as possible! Thank you, Susie

Denise Krebs

Gayle, the best part are those repetitions of “And I read.” I like that past tense and present tense look the same. The peace and comfort of your place in the poem is palpable. Beautiful!

Stacey Joy

Sarah, what a sweet love offering you’ve given us today. I love going to bed and your opening lines almost convinced me to go back in and snuggle up. Thank you for reminding us about the importance of breath-work. At a recent staff meeting, we were severely chastised by admin and the collective suffering was palpable. When she left the room, I led them in 2 minutes of box breathing. I had never done that with a group, but clearly it was right on time. We all need to breathe and pause throughout the day, otherwise we don’t give ourselves the easiest gift of all. Sorry for the long intro.

I chose to follow the form of Christine’s first 8 lines. (If the formatting doesn’t show after I post, it’s there in the image.)

A Home for Me

Among the souls,

in the sky,

a kinder world

is where I fly.



Here

I release a sigh   open my eyes,

land in heaven’s arms

where no suffering lies.

©Stacey L. Joy, 3/16/25

March-16-A-Home-for-Me
Erica J

I definitely find solace in the blue skies above and I love your use of the pause after “I release a sigh.”

Stefani B

Stacey, thank you for your poem but I am pulled more to responding to your intro. I love that you led your peers in breathing and normalized this practice. I hope the breathing community continues and not the chastising 💜💜

Stacey, I appreciate the line spacing here with room for the reader to exhale in between. And then the space between “sigh” and “ipen” is another. I read this as a poet taking such good care of her readers. Thank you.

Susie Morice

Hey there Stacey — I want to be there with you in that home. I wish it for all of us. Love, Susie

Barb Edler

Wow, gorgeous Canva of your poem. I love the sense of peace you create in this poem. “where no suffering lies” haunts me. Gorgeous poem!

Susan O

The longing for no suffering is a wish that I have as well. A kinder world is heaven. Ah, to be there!

Sharon Roy

Stacey,

Good for you for stepping up as a compassionate leader when your admin not only failed to bring care, but brought suffering. It’s always a shame when admin fail to administer to the needs of their teachers. I’m sure your colleagues appreciated your compassionate acknowledgment of your collective suffering and found power and relief in your collective breaths. Your actions resonate with the peace of your poem:

a kinder world

is where I fly.

Sharon Roy

Sarah,

thanks for hosting and sharing both Derr’s and your poem. Both poems made me slow down which I appreciate. I liked the way you used muscling as a gerund—giving us a sense of the active process and strength required to relax into rest.

I also loved — and felt physically — these two lines:

blades pulling down

shouldered worries

Thanks, Sarah, for sending me back in time, to a place that is home even though I’ve never lives there.

Good luck to everyone who’s team is on the bubble today—especially if like me, you’re a Longhorn fan. Hook’ em!

My mind travels back
And North
My feet climb the hill
Alongside my grandmother
she’s wearing her straight, blue windbreaker
With the white snaps
We smell the green
Of the Maine woods
Washed fresh by the rain
We talk if whatever comes to mind
And let in the natural silence

Sharon,

I recall your poem from yesterday. You are a big fan, huh? I wonder if your poems this month will be a series of their own—a March Madness in verse! In this scene, I am right there climbing. I see the that windbreaker with the white snaps. This is so grounding, such an anchor for the moment. I feel like I am behind the poet’s eyes here asking me to look, smell, listen.

Lovely — no madness here.
Sarah

Stacey Joy

Hi Sharon,
Your poem is a peace offering, a sensory treat! 💚

We smell the green

Of the Maine woods

Washed fresh by the rain

Gayle j sands

Sharon— I don’t know why, but my favorite detail is those white snaps on the straight blue windbreaker. It put me there—right there!

Mariah

Thanks for a prompt that we certainly all need to stop and think about, Sarah! And thank you for your lovely example on this Sunday morning. I chose to write an etheree.

Portuguese lullaby

Breathe.
Inhale
And exhale.
Let the ocean
Pull the news cycle
Down deep into inky 
Unconsciousness and just hush.
Peniche perches defiantly
On sea-splitting cliffs as swallows lace
The wall that wraps her in its stone embrace.

©Mariah M.L. Bauer
03/16/2025

Last edited 14 hours ago by Mariah
Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Mariah, I feel the breath in the “let the ocean/pull the news cycle.” Oh, how it needs a cleansing, but that “inky unconscious” brings a tone of silencing, a “hush.” That took my breath away. And that last line of “wall that wraps her in its stone embrace” feels at once a comfort in the wrap and a chill in the “stone.” Two things can be true as we navigate the tension of comfort and truth.

Peace,
Sarah

Sharon Roy

Mariah,

Thank you so much for this trip to Portugal. I had not been—until now. I love how you end with birds. I’ve recently gotten into birding and find they bring me such peace. I can just see:

Peniche perches defiantly

On sea-splitting cliffs as swallows lace

The wall that wraps her in its stone embrace.

Thank you!

Mariah

African swallows are so magical and almost architectural looking. They also represent hope and home and family. There are ceramic swallows on stucco building walls all over Portugal. I just bought myself a swallow necklace to keep their message close!

Stacey Joy

Hi Mariah,

I love etherees! Yours is especially beautiful, bringing me to a lovely mental space. I have never been to Portugal. I had to look up Peniche to understand the ending. Wow, now I’m picturing how the city is nestled on the cliffs. Time to look at some Google images.

Gorgeous poem, alluring city!

Mariah

Amazing, isn’t it? A medieval city on a cliff by the sea— complete with a fortress wall and moat. I’m enamored and hope to spend a lot of time there in the future.

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Susan O

On the Path

On the path
through the trees
a lake by my side
no more noise
from traffic
going nowhere

On the path
through the trees
a clearing awaits
where I turn around
take a deep breath
and head home.

I don’t know how you working teachers do it. I have been teaching a three day workshop and barely have time to do anything else. My workshop is only 3 hours a day! Kudos to all of you and thanks, Sarah.

Susan,
I’d love to hear more about your workshop, And,congrats on carving some time for poetry amdist it all. I love the refrain here in “On the path”. I found myself exhaling in the line with “take a breath.” That was a clever invitation to the reader. Clearly, you have found a clearing in your schedule for this poem and a breath. Lovely.
Sarah

Barb Edler

I love the action of your poem, Susan, and how you show a purposeful way to find a peaceful path. I want to be there by that lakeside! Home always feels like a safety net for me!

Margaret Simon

Sarah,
I love how you lead us to a place of peace on this Sunday morning. Just being with our breath is in some ways all we can do some days.

It’s the way the sun
dapples the oak tree
with a halo of light.

It’s the way the cypress
needles pop out like
green leprechauns.

It’s the way a bayou
runs through and around
a town of ancestry.

It’s the way I sit
at my table with coffee
and a pen.

Mariah

I got such a sense of your space, Margaret. I loved that I could see you in the bayou amongst the cypress and pines with your coffee and pen.

Margaret,

Oh, what a line “dapples the oak tree.” I don’t think I have ever seen that before. Wow, what a lovely surprise to read this phrase. And then another fun image of “green leprechauns” popping out of the cypress.

Sarah

Sharon Roy

Margaret,

I love your refrain:

It’s the way

It gives ne such a strong sense of your gratitude.

I like how your poem captures three different outside scenes and an indoor writing space to connect them all.

I’m going to carry this image with me:

It’s the way the sun

dapples the oak tree

with a halo of light.

Beautiful!

Kim Johnson

I love your repetition and your invitation that inspires us to breathe and to write.

Susie Morice

Margaret — This really is lovely. The nature images are so particular. But ending with you at the table just felt so …so connected. Here we are. Susie

Gayle j sands

It’s the way this slowed my very pulse down… beautiful!

Mae

Winding Path 

The rambling rivers and 
The tactful trout—

The trembling trees and 
The crooning canaries—

The fawning flowers and 
The blissful bees— 

The steady sun and 
The wayward worms—

The crunch of the path 
Under work sneaker soles—

The soft swish—swish 
Of jacket clad arms—

The voice of the wondrous wind 
Whooshing through tangled hair—

The destination of the winding path 
May be forever unknown. 

Mariah

We were on the walk with you, Mae. I enjoyed the alliteration and the sounds you incorporated, like the swish of the jacket sleeves.

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Mae,

Oh, that stanza with all the “w” swirling in the phrasing and in my mouth for the beauty of sound in “wondrous wind/Whooshing” and I just love imagining the tangled hair. What a way to close your poem, what an invitation to readers to welcome “may be forever unknown.” That’s okay, right? It’s okay not to know the destination.

Peace,
Sarah

Kim Johnson

I hear the sounds, and you’ve captured movement with the words.

Tammi Belko

Sarah,
Thank you for your prompt and poem. I love the way you capture the way your body relaxes in those those moments before sleep: “The tour of fingers/writing fiction tingles
blades pulling down/shouldered worries.”

Forest Bathing by Tamara Belko

A dip in the forest unravels the weary knots woven into my shoulders,
loosens the band of tension squeezing my temples.

Breathing in your essential oils,
lifts my mood, calms my nerves, boosts my strength.

Meandering down woodland paths,
inspires creativity, perhaps even a poem or two
I will journal.

This natural high brings clarity, rekindles hope,
Fills my lungs with boundless breath.

Thank you for your phytoncides, my forest friend.

Margaret Simon

I’ve done one forest bath meditation. I’d like to do more but on my own. Our guide was too talkative for my taste. I love how this poem takes me with you on your walk.

Mariah

I’ve not done forest bath meditation— but you’ve inspired me to try it, Tammi! I like that you thank your forest host.

Tamara,

You had me at your title. “Forest Bathing.” Wow, that is stunning. I so want this “natural high” and the clarity it brings. And we so desperately need a rekindling of hope. That direct address to the forest is an intimate way to close.

Sarah

Emily Cohn

Tammi, I love when a poem makes me curious about a new word- I love phytoncides! What a cool analogy to the cleansing power of forest plants! I love the line about “essential oils” in this natural setting. Thanks for the new word and the refreshing walk in the woods.

Kim Johnson

Thank you for bringing in forest bathing – – I am just beginning to learn more about this as a form of relaxation and peace. My sister in law speaks of grounding – – taking off shoes and standing barefoot in the grass for a certain period of time each day to absorb the peace of the grass and dirt. Your poem captures the true spirit of breathing.

moonc

Georgia Boy

Find me,
 Down in the Georgia pines,
  Wrapped up tight,
   In a cedar blind.

Calling Toms,
   Across a field,
Purrs and cackles,
 for
  Gobbling thrills.

Find me,
  In a canoe,
   Floating the Flint,
  All day
   Fishing, sunburned,
  Summer spent.

Find me,
  In a frosted oak,
November rattling,
  For tines
   On a chocolate coat.

Find me,
   In swamp thistles,
Listening to 
  Beagle music,
 With rabbit whistles.

Find me,
  Barefoot in red clay,
Sipping coffee,
  On a 
Rainy day.

 Find me,
  In the wind,
     On a coyote’s howl,
       Riding the hoots 
     Of a red oak’s owl.

    Catching lighting bugs,
       And toad frogs,
        Inhaling the mist of
          A hunter’s fog.

Under the moon,
   Soaking in the sun,
   Answering the loon,
     Or a rabbit run.

On Dogwood mountain,
   Down in the Devil’s valley,
Around the sunflowers,
   Or pine straw alleys.

Find me,
  Where the arrowhead lays,
Anticipating each
   Change in
       Georgia Days.

 – Boxer

Mae

I really enjoyed the shape of this poem! It was very pleasing to look at and even more enjoyable to read! I liked the rhyming words as they really made the poem flow!

Margaret Simon

Ah, those Georgia days! I love the repetition of “find me,” and how that creates an immediate moment I can spend beside you.

Susan

This is beautiful, Boxer! The anaphora of “find me” really helps take the reader by hand and join you. So many rich details. I want to go.

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

I am not sure how you managed to get the spacing, as mine is lost each time, but it really does matter in the white space for the steps and the journey and the climbing of Dogwood mountain here. I like how you lead the reader to “find me” and the physical and ethereal space that is “Georgia Days.” Lovely.

Sarah

Emily Cohn

Very beautiful- I just got the Hometown Hunter series for my students because they have wonderful hunting stories, too! I love how you take us through the seasons, with actions,
images, sounds and the thrill of the hunt in each stanza.

Fran Haley

Boxer, I love every single word, every rhythmic beat of the Georgia Boy’s heart, captured here. I’m a city girl with rural roots and I wouldn’t trade my life in the countryside now for anything. My favorite of all is “beagle music.” A beagle’s howl really is a song. I have a video to prove it!

Kim Johnson

The spirit of Georgia is alive and well and living in you through and through, Boxer Moon! I can see it all – right to the red clay and the floating down the Flint. This captures the essence of peace in our Georgia rural countryside

Susie Morice

Gosh, Boxer, you write great stuff. Each of these “find me” bits are wonderful…so clearly part of who you are. All the ‘ing participles really put each image forward. The toads and frogs and lightning bugs really resonated with my own memories. I thoroughly enjoyed this poem. Thank you, Susie

Susan

All Places

While on the mat
with lights down low
my thoughts have 
nowhere else to go 

Led by the yogi
breathing slows 
my body sinks
and lungs just know 

Life-giving breath
follows an unseen stream
down into my depths 
and helps me dream 

I end up in
the calmest state
knocking on 
tranquility’s gate

How, oh how , do I make 
my life itself just like this space
where errant thoughts constantly disrupt 
an ever-calming peaceful place 

Superficial breath does sustain
my life of worries and of pains
deepest breathing I long to see
how I wish to find that key. 

Relax the shoulders
there’s nothing to prove
the dam of anxiety
has to move.

until I find my constant bliss
at least I have the mat to hit.

~Susan Ahlbrand 
16 March 2025 

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Susan, the rhythm of your poem is like a continuous breathing in and out. I found myself lulled into a peaceful state, in perfect reflection of what yoga offers. I haven’t practiced in several years but your words remind me of why I should start back. I especially love that first stanza–and the truth in it. Beautiful.

Tammi Belko

Susan,
Love this stanza:“Life-giving breath/follows an unseen stream/down into my depths 
and helps me dream” Your rhythm is so relaxing. I feel that I am in your meditative space too.

I enjoy yoga too. Your poem has inspired me to make more time for this practice.

moonc

Very creative and peaceful with purpose!

Margaret Simon

Susan, Your rhythm and rhyme carry this poem to the mat. I love a good yoga class. “there’s nothing to prove” is a good mantra for yoga. Just be present with your body.

Linda Mitchell

ah, yes. I’m off to the gym with my yoga mat after lunch today—taking this poem with me in my mind.

Sarah J. Donovan, PhD (s/her)

Susan,

I love how the yoga mat is the clearing for this poem. The way the grounded place of body welcomes the mindful space back to the body in the “dam of anxiety/has to move” and the finding of “constant bliss/at least I have the mat to hit.” Your poem grounds the reader in the reality of intrusions that work to disrupt our peace and breath. Hit away.

Peace,
Sarah

Emily Cohn

“How, oh how, do I make my life itself just like this line resonates with me! How can we bring all this thoughtfulness off the mat? Love the questions and imagery.

Susie Morice

Susan — I love the yoga – like references. But it is the difficulty in getting to that state that really resonated with me….”dam of anxiety” and “superficial breath”… seems too much of our lives right now. I need to try more yoga! Thank you, Susie

Kim Johnson

Sarah, thank you for hosting us today with a prompt that is needed by everyone. To breathe. Your poem relaxes the mind and soul at once….I used your line Here I can follow the flow as inspiration to make me think of paint pouring out of a can with such smooth thickness. Painting anything relaxes me, and I breathe better when I smell fresh paint and see new life in an old piece of furniture…..and my favorite place is the Ace Hardware store in my tiny town in rural Georgia, where it doesn’t take much to entertain me, but this is where I breathe. I discovered that in the Magnolia Home paint chip section, there are stories on the backs of the color chip cards, and my life hasn’t been the same since.

Colorful Story Paint Chip Haiku

did you know that there
are stories on the backs of 
Magnolia chips? 
these are the kinds of
deep-breathing exercises
perfect for writers
colorful stories
that’ll take your breath away
and make you want to
write your own colorful gems
about your own hues
just take a deep breath
close your eyes, go someplace loved
pick up your own pen

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Kim, you are the source of all my new ideas this month! I teach a smash journal elective and the kids loved adding paint chip poetry to their pages, some crafting several. Now, I’m going to find Magnolia stories to add a second option for them. We used Magnolia colors when we painted last – a touch of fresh breath to this old home. Your words have given me fresh breath today too! Thank you.

Tammi Belko

Kim —

I’ve used your paint chip poetry lesson with my students many times and they love it! I can’t wait to check out Magnolia Home Paint chips.

Your poem makes me want to paint as well as write. Thank you for the inspiration!

moonc

Love the magic in this piece. The reference to magnolia takes me back to my childhood. I wish I had a pen when I was 8 years old playing under the neighborhood magnolia.
very inspiring!!

Linda Mitchell

ahhhhhhh! I do love those paint chip color prompts…wouldn’t it be fun to get to name paint colors? I want to name a paint, “dulcet blue” or, “madcap monday” just for fun!

Kim,

You had me smiling in the framing part of this poem with the Magnolia collection. I remember imagining my dream home through paint colors at one point in my life. Those paint chips are a treasure trove of writing ideas, and you draw on those treasures so beautifully in this uncovering of paint chips through haiku. “did you know” is such a lovely welcoming to the reader into conversation about possibilities for stories about our own hues. That is a future prompt, I think.

Peace,
Sarah

Fran Haley

Kim, I did NOT know about the stories on the backs of Magnolia Home color chip cards, but I can totally believe your “life hasn’t been the same since.” Now I haven’t a choice – I must check them out ASAP! How superbly you pulled the breathing through the wonder of the chips, or vice versa – either way, the poem itself is a powerful invitation to breathe, be, and write one’s own “colorful gems.” Like this poem.

Denise Krebs

Kim, lovely. I smiled when you said your favorite place is the Ace Hardware. 🙂 I feel like you can use this poem as a prompt for those writing their own paint chip poems. So lovely and peaceful.

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Sarah, thank you for this moment of breathing, of finding clarity in the early morning hours, of reminding us of the importance of being. Just being. These lines “I choose to travel/ with my blood” spoke strongly to me, and I gave myself permission to follow the journey for just a bit as I took those extra breaths, inhaling deeply. Peace, my friend.

Breath Prayers

an inhaling
before exhaling
supplies scattered 
across my work station
in a known riotous chaos 
art making is a ritual
I read that once
felt its life force
breathed it in
sat within it

take it in
let it grow
unfold, unwind
in organic imperfection
hold the idea within you
let it become you
in glorious, messy
transformation
a spontaneity
then let go

Angie
  1. Ooo I like “in a known riotous chaos” and the paradoxical nature of this poem and the embracing of “messy” and imperfect. You sound like a fellow type B teacher 🤩
Tammi Belko

Jennifer,

You capture the process of creativity and creation beautifully. Sitting in the chaos is such a powerful and truthful message. Sometimes that is exactly what is needed. Love these lines:

“in organic imperfection
hold the idea within you
let it become you
in glorious, messy
transformation”

Linda Mitchell

You are singing my song! I’ve been away from my art table too long. I love the riotous chaos and the organic imperfection, the transformation and spontaneity–it’s a favorite place to find breath.

Jennifer,

The shape of the poems calmed me and invited me/the reader, to breathe with the poet today in the shorter and longer lines. The phrase “organic imperfection” caught me wanting to read “perfection” and then I made sure to note the “im.” I am, indeed, holding that idea within me that the “im” is goal of it all.

Peace,
Sarah

Fran Haley

I feel and hear the breathing in every magnificent line, Jennifer – the poem even looks like lungs to me. They invited me to breathe my own “breath prayers” as I read – how beautiful and peaceful a title! And, what a glorious capturing of the art-making process – the ritual, the messiness, the transformation and the letting go. Just stunning.

Kim Johnson

Jennifer, the breathing found in art is a magical thing – – like transporting us through a portal to another realm. I particularly was drawn to this part:
art making is a ritual
I read that once
felt its life force
breathed it in
sat within it

I like that you took a moment to interject I read that once……and then spoke to the experience of feeling it, breathing it, sitting with it. A great technique here!

Susie Morice

Jennifer — I really love this. I’ve been doing so much painting in the last two years, and always there is this “hold the idea within you/let it become you…” that has me by the tail. It is transformational, these acts of creativity…whether they be in writing or paint or notes and chords. I want to copy this poem and hand it here in my office where I do so much creative exploration. Thank you for a dandy poem today! Susie

Linda Mitchell

Good Morning! thank you for the video and today’s poetic inspiration. I’ve been burning my candle at all ends these days and it was good to think about a space to breathe.

I’m sharing just a few lines of my free write that I drafted in poetic lines. Maybe it will turn into a poem later. For now, it’s just breathing…exactly what I need.

where I can be
in the old beat up chair
at the sunny window
covered with the comforter
I brought with me
from my long ago home
that first apartment
when I was learning
what it meant to be
to be me, all by myself.

Angie

Oh Linda, this is already a complete poem in my eyes. It’s simple, but that mindful repetition of “to be” is so powerful, moving from “what it meant to be” to “to be me” and ending with all by myself. Yes, I remember the first studio cottage in Sonoma where I finally lived by myself for the first time in my life and I learned these things without really knowing it. I also love “long ago home” 🩵

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Linda, these first few lines of your draft are the breathing in, the finding yourself (and I love that idea of “learning /what it meant to be/ to be me, all by myself”). I feel the inhale as your life builds, am holding it with you in your words, this deep breath, which allowed for a slow, long exhale. Exactly what I needed this morning. Thank you.

Linda,

I think you turned it into a poem already. It is already already for us. I enjoy sitting in this poem as fragment and completeness of a scene of “beat up chair” and “long ago home” and the being and becoming all at once. Thank you.

Sarah

Fran Haley

So much peace in these lines, Linda – I do most of my writing in a kitchen chair by the windows, where I can see birds frolicking in the yard and in the birdbath. So, I love your old chair and sunny window and your comforter which helped you learn how to be you. This is a poem, all by itself, and, again – I love it.

Kim Johnson

Linda, the beat up chair in the sunny window with the long ago comforter just has a welcoming, comforting feeling that lets us breathe. Sitting by a window is an automatic relaxation, but the addition of the things that have been around awhile gives us the feeling of their being broken in, loved on, tried and true – – there for the ages.

Susie Morice

Linda — This poem has a very warm and fuzzy satisfying feeling to it. I love that feeling. Susie

Susan

Where do we and can we breathe and what stops us from breathing…what a great topic to investigate and write about. Your poem takes it next level, Sarah. Beautiful language and imagery take this much deeper than a mere reflection upon those moments we truly breathe. I love this stanza:

Behind my eyelids

a place of darkness

I choose to travel

with my blood.

Linda Mitchell

I love this! It’s so true and a place I like to be as well. These days, I feel like I’m a “slow processor” with people wanting my response faster than I can give it. Sometimes, I just close my eyes and take a moment. I feel like this poem gets me. Thank you!

Fran Haley

Sarah, thank you for this beautiful invitation to breathe and be. My own breathing slows to savor Christine’s lines, and yours… so much sustenance is packed in the spareness. Thank you for gifting us with a breathing place today and many, many days. I recall that “inspiration” means to breathe; in this place you have provided, I have found endless inspiration. I am so grateful. I follow your lead and borrow the lines today. Here is where they lead me-

Breathing Place

Along the road
among the trees
the wild things live
and wait for me

They do not know
about things like grace
or that they are
my breathing place

When they appear
as I drive by
my spirit soars
eagle-high

My heart, it sings
oh, glory, glory
for their presence
in life’s story

Peace descends
and folds its wings
—I breathe the breath
of wild things

Jennifer Guyor Jowett

Fran, you breathe in poetry, live within its words (oh, there’s a poem in that line–I might play with that later), and it speaks to us. You have the ability to share deep thoughts in simplicity and simple thoughts in deep ways. Beautifully. Always. I want to breathe the breath of wild things with you, I do in this poem (and I think there is a picture book in your line).

Angie

I like the rhyme in this, Fran. It’s appropriately comforting. If I write today, I think you have influenced me to try to rhyme (out of my comfort zone) 😁

moonc

Wow!!! I want to steal this one- and be Eagle high “ breathing the breath of wild things”.
As a former Coach I gotta say – Touchdown on this one – amazing work!

Linda Mitchell

A stunning poem…reminds me of the Wendell Berry poem too. Your use of rhyme gives a wonderful rhythm that is a deceptively simple element with these bigger ideas and how important the wild things really are. Lovely.

Fran,

The wings imagery carries me today, and I will look for the wild things on my walk, and I will try to grasp that space in the “glory/for their presence” in the folding and unfolding of that movement. Lovely.

Sarah

Kim Johnson

Fran, your poetry always captures uniquely you. Your spirit breathes life into this verse today, with its rhyme and rhythm that is all your own. That last stanza leaves me feeling that peace deep within, longing for more breath of wild things.

Stacey Joy

Fran,
The ending…so marvelous!

—I breathe the breath

of wild things

I know you’re a bird lover and even though I am not, I was able to embrace the beauty of your “wild things” with wings. 🥰