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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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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.