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: Leilya Pitre
Leilya lives in Ponchatoula, LA, a small town celebrated for its strawberries. She teaches and coordinates the English Education Program at Southeastern Louisiana University. Preparing future English teachers, she hopes they become caring, competent, and effective teachers in the classrooms. She is an editor and contributing author of Where Stars Meet People: Teaching and Writing Poetry in Conversation. Her other books are devoted to teaching young adult literature in high school. Leilya loves people, cultures, and their rich traditions. She reads, writes, listens to music, visits her children and grandchildren, and enjoys traveling with her husband.
Inspiration
It’s the Ides of March, and it could be a great idea to write a poem that reflects the eerie and ominous atmosphere surrounding the date, especially considering its historical association with the assassination of Julius Caesar and the famous “Et tu, Brute?” moment. A poem that captures a sense of gloomy prediction could work well, delving into themes of fate, betrayal, and the tension before a catastrophic event.
However, it’s my birthday, so we can think about the original meaning of the Ides of March symbolizing a pivotal turning point, a moment of transformation, or a new beginning. You may consider approaching it with a lighthearted tone to add an interesting, fresh twist. We can explore the idea of change, renewal, or an unexpected turn in a positive direction.
Process
Depending on your mood and inclination is for today, you may choose one of the two prompts:
First Poem Prompt:
“A voice from the shadows whispers, ‘Beware the Ides of March…’” (Shakespeare).
Explore a mysterious prediction that looms over a key moment in history or personal fate. It could involve a figure who senses the danger approaching, or a symbolic event that hints at an unavoidable future.”
For a mysterious prediction, I recommend a villanelle, a 19-line form known for its repetition of key lines. The repeating refrains would lend an air of inevitability and doom to the prediction, mirroring the idea of a foretold fate. The rhyme scheme (ABA, with the refrains alternating) gives the poem a rhythmic, haunting quality.
A potential refrain could be something like:
“Beware the Ides of March,” a voice forewarns,” or “For fate will come, and blood will stain the day.”
To get a refresher on a villanelle structure, please, check out this link or this one. Both share some examples.
Second Poem Prompt:
“On the Ides of March, the winds begin to shift.
What once was still will rise and drift” (Shakespeare) Write a poem that celebrates a moment of change or transformation, akin to the original meaning of the Ides of March as a day of transition in Roman history. Explore the lightness, promise, or a hope of a new beginning, whether personal, societal, or even seasonal, where something previously hidden or stagnant starts to evolve. The tone can be playful, mysterious, optimistic, or filled with curiosity.
For a more playful and lighthearted tone, I’d recommend a limerick or a free verse poem.
The limerick, with its catchy rhythm (AABBA), can convey a sense of whimsy and change in a fun, punchy way. You can create a short, light narrative where the Ides of March is seen as a day of transformation and growth. You may have one or several limericks in your poem.
If you want a bit more room to explore nuances, free verse allows you to flow more naturally with your thoughts on change, transition, and new beginnings without being bound by a strict rhyme or meter. This form would help convey a sense of freedom and freshness.
As always, write whatever appeals to you today, and you are welcome to ignore the prompts and inspirations altogether. Just write ☺
Leilya’s Poem
Because I am in a more festive and hopeful mood today, I will use the second prompt and a limerick form for my poem.
A New Day’s Promise
The ides of March, they greet me near,
My mother’s song I always hear—
The moon retreats, the dawn’s in bloom,
Spring fills the air, creates some room
For welcomed change that’s almost here.
I feel the breeze, its tender call,
It stirs my dreams, it lifts my soul—
Each ray of light, a soft embrace,
Renewing hope, reviving grace,
As winter’s shadows fade and fall.
I close my eyes and dare to pray,
For peace to find its gentle way—
To heal my homeland, end the pain,
And let love’s voice sing once again,
This hope—my gift—on my special day.
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.
Leilya,
I hope you had a wonderful birthday. Thank you for hosting. I love the hope in your poem and the cadence of each verse. It’s still winter here. My poem is not at all what I’d hoped to write. It is what it is as the bewitching hour nears.
3/15
Beware the false spring day shining
the momentary sunshine ray. The
ides of March winds blow, foreshadow
of evil foretold. Now reckless doge
march as feckless pols obey in advance.
Beware Mar-a-Lago two-face,
the bronzed botox-filled lines trace
ides mid-month numbered days
of all false heart knows false face shows. They
march democracy toward Rome’s fate
Glenda Funk
March 15, 2025
Hope you had a great birthday, Leilya!
I’m tired of the winds
of change-can I just get
one windless day, please?
Just— amen!
Mo, this is brilliant! Too many changes are happening so rapidly. No time to breathe.
Mo, this is great! I was remembering a time just a year ago when I was writing a poem a day about the desert I live in. Now lately, I seem to hardly notice it. Too many “winds of change”
Mo,
You are so good at capturing much in few words. seriously amazing poem.
Waiting and Moving
Family relationships grow,
like a seedling in my front flowerbed.
Some sprout quickly but wither fast,
others take seasons to show their strength.
I sit in a silence and distance that feels too wide.
Neither pushing too hard nor walking away.
The patient roots grew deeper than we knew.
Learning the art of knowing
When to reach out or when to give space,
Speaking truth and when to listen.
Like a cat stalking the red cardinal munching on birdseed
Timing changes everything.
Recognize the moment–
It is time to call,
To bridge the gap,
To transform years of quiet waiting
into one brave conversation.
Natalie, I really like your 4th stanza. Such a difficult thing, isn’t it? Knowing when to reach out or when to give space? I also love the idea of a brave conversation.
Natalie, thee is so much wisdom in this stanza:
Learning the art of knowing
When to reach out or when to give space,
Speaking truth and when to listen.
This is an art of knowing indeed! Thank you so much for writing and sharing.
I have experienced that “silence and distance that feels too wide” Your commitment to the brave conversation shows your wisdom and maturity. This line is beautiful:
Like a cat stalking the red cardinal munching on birdseed
I hope that your birthday was very happy, Leilya! Thank you for sharing your lovely poem and these prompts. (Note to self: when working on a villanelle, try to pick easier words to rhyme!). Mariah
Shadow Warnings
“A voice from the shadow whispers, ‘Beware the
Ides of March’” (Shakespeare)
Did a voice from the shadow whisper? A warning sharp as daggers?
I must confess I didn’t see any of this coming– don’t recognize my country.
Our body politic is slumped in a mortally injured stagger.
I found my grandfather’s naturalization papers, his face, though haggard,
Illuminated by hope, amongst the huddled masses at the feet of the verdigris lady.
Did a voice from the shadow whisper? A warning sharp as daggers?
“Mother of Exiles,” of the tired, poor, wretched refuse, the beggars,
Of my tempest-tost grandparents who (I’m almost grateful) aren’t here to see
Our body politic slumped in a mortally injured stagger.
Was it prophesied that the end would arrive in the billionaires’ vapid, unmerited swaggers?
Was it foretold that the insatiable horsemen of the apocalypse would be mounted on electric steeds?
Did a voice from the shadow whisper? A warning sharp as daggers?
I was raised by the newly rooted, those who knew that kindness and community cures,
Who served depression soup off side porches, lived “faith in action,” whose hearts would bleed…
Our body politic is slumped in a mortally injured stagger.
My wild-eyed, transplant daughter asked when America became “mean,” and I had to beg her
To have courage and believe we’ll remember who we are– but I’m trying to convince both her and me.
Did a voice from the shadow whisper? A warning sharp as daggers?
Our body politic is slumped in a mortally injured stagger.
Oh, that last stanza really got me, Mariah. I think your form really suits your message today. Also, I 💯 get what you mean about the rhyming, but yours are great!
Thank you, Mariah! It was a great day with my daughter and son-in-law.
I like your note to yourself and understand villanelle rhyming might be difficult, but you nailed it with staggers and daggers, and beggars, and swaggers! Your message is clear, and it seems that this “body of politics” forgot who they are in a country of immigrants. What an irony!
Oh, Mariah, this is so powerful. What a refrain: “Our body politic is slumped in a mortally injured stagger.” You do have some rhyming words in there. The vocabulary and long lines feel Shakespearean and like the beware the Ides of March fits. “…the billionaires’ vapid, unmerited swaggers” is an amazing phrase. Hopefully it is not a prophecy! I enjoyed the lines about your dear grandparents too.
Happy Birthday, Leilya! I hope your day was filled with sunshine and joy!
Thank you for your prompt and the options.
Love the hopeful message in these lines:
“The moon retreats, the dawn’s in bloom,
Spring fills the air, creates some room
For welcomed change that’s almost here.” –
A Tyrant Is A Tyrant
On the Ides of March
thunder rumbled, lightning sparked.
Swollen clouds uncorked.
Ominous portent
for the day ahead, no doubt.
Reflection of now.
Vision of moment
Stop! Reverse the direction!
Raise voices and fists!
Tyranny must not persist!
I love this. Crisp and powerful. May we find “vision of moment” and fight tyranny!
I wish more people would heed your advice, Tammi. I really love the imagery in your first stanza. Powerful.
Thank you, Tammy! I like how short, punchy lines deliver the message with the strong call for action at the end: “Raise voices and fists!”
Indeed, somehow we need to stop the tyranny!
“Raise voices and fists!” Hear, hear, Tammi Belko! I love this. “Tyranny must not persist!” Yes, we are here to do something about it, aren’t we?
Hapy Birthday Leilya! Thank you for hosting today and thank you for options. I’m not much of a history anything, so I was a little uncomfortable when reading your prompt. I know, but not enough.
Your free verse hold such sweet memories. The title alone I spoke into existence last night, “A new day”. The memories of your mother’s song, nature’s portrait, and the abstract noun of hope and peace, what I long for. Your phrase, “For peace to find its gentle way—” resonates with me because my peace is lost somewhere on a bumpy, winding, backwoods road. But while I wait for it, I find moments of clarity in nature and God’s voice. Thank you for sharing. Here is my free verse poem of randoms.
March 15th Randoms
March 15th marks a significant event in history,
“Beware the Ides of March”-catchphrased by Shakespeare,
parodied by Shein, not of Julius Caesar unalived
but “Pizza Pizza” Little Caesars.
Ides means “to divide”- full moon divides the calendar…
and influences the kids.
As the month is divided,
so is my paycheck-Tithes, bills, needs, and wants.
It’s unfortunate that my wants are last.
But I reward myself with free things- the best things in life:
deep sleep, unconditional love, my dysfunctional family, the beauty of nature,
tap water, bear hugs, heavy breathing from working out, belly laughs,
and forever memories.
Thank you so much, Jessica! I want to be you when I grow up as you reward yourself “ with free things- the best things in life:
deep sleep, unconditional love, my dysfunctional family, the beauty of nature,
tap water, bear hugs, heavy breathing from working out, belly laughs,
and forever memories.”
These are the best things! I also hear you when you say:
“As the month is divided,
so is my paycheck-Tithes, bills, needs, and wants.
It’s unfortunate that my wants are last.”
This is so unfair that teachers who work so much and so hard have to live from paycheck to paycheck. Thank you for sharing today!
Thank you so much Leilya!
Jessica — I love your last stanza : “But I reward myself with free things- the best things in life: deep sleep, unconditional love, my dysfunctional family, the beauty of nature,
tap water, bear hugs, heavy breathing from working out, belly laughs,
and forever memories.”
Truly the best rewards!
Absolutely Tammi, thank you!
So clever and well done, Jessica. I laughed out loud at the opening bit; love that you looked into the root of “ides” (I did also!) and spoke about dividing; and smiled at the ways in which you reward yourself which are, indeed, “the best things in life!”
“March 15th Randoms” is a great title! Fun. So many free things to appreciate and reward ourselves with. I love that list, Jessica.
It took all day. I attended a workshop with poet Darrell Bourque and he encouraged us to use everyday, ordinary language to work into our poems. He mentioned the villanelle as a possible form, so then maybe the stars aligned for me. I can’t stop thinking about the student who lost it in my class on Friday.
Sob Story
Why do you cry?
Tears dot your face.
Tell me why.
Water well flows, will not dry
when you occupy unwieldy space.
Why do you cry?
Falling in a pitiful lie
with swollen eyes as your disgrace.
Tell me why.
A friend once told me strength grows when my
broken heart opens with grace–
Why do you cry?
I’m here beside you, I sigh,
your pain packed in my suitcase.
Tell me why
the stars still shine.
I’ll tell you life’s a hard place
Why do you cry?
Tell me why.
Oh, Margaret, I can’t bear it when kids cry so painful tears! I wish we could help them all. Just asking and listening sometimes work. Your villanelle came out heartfelt and worrisome. Thank you for your kindness! Kids need teachers like you around them.
Margaret,
Your poem really pulled me in. It was so relatable and this stanza —“I’m here beside you, I sigh,/your pain packed in my suitcase./Tell me why” — really shows how we, as teachers, carry our student’s pain with us.
And your refrain “Why do you cry?/Tell me why?” — is so perfect.
I’m glad you were there for your student.
That repeating line on the crying is tugging at my heart, as if the crying can’t stop long enough to explain it. I hope your student is okay. I like this form with the rhyme.
Margaret,
I sure hope your student felt your presence and your care. I can’t imagine how you must have felt. Thank you for being YOU and being in your student’s space. The repetition works well, a pleading for answers.
This line resonates with me because in all the sadness, we always manage to share some hope:
So relatable! I always feel so helpless when the freshman students in my class weep– and it happens with some frequency, sadly. I love the simplicity of the language and how succinct it is in its impact. The line “your pain packed in my suitcase” is beautiful.
Margaret, I’m sorry for this young child. Your poem with its many questions make me feel your heart. “I’ll tell you life’s a hard place” is a sad truth.
Finally! I have accomplished a poem!
Do not go gentle into the world of AI’s chains
Do not go gentle into the world of AI’s chains.
We should burn and rave against tech’s grip.
Rage, rage against the ruining of our brains!
Wise men know we should not hand over the reins
to machines with their controlling silicon chips.
Do not go gentle into the world of AI’s chains
Cautious men work to always stay in their lanes
using their own efforts and wily scholarship.
Rage, rage against the ruining of our brains!
Greedy men trap us in their manipulating game
making us think we want an easier trip.
Do not go gentle into the world of AI’s chains
Careless men give over their thoughts to domains.
Run by soulless ghosts, our land they strip.
Rage, rage against the ruining of our brains.
And you, my learned folks, are what remains.
Please fight the trend and show some leadership.
Do not go gentle into the world of AI’s chains
Rage, rage against the ruining of our brains.
~Susan Ahlbrand
15 March 2025
Oh, Susan. “Do nt go gentle into the world of AI’s chains” ! Wow.
Susan, you did it! Such a passionate warning to all people thinking. It made me think about Emerson’s essay called American Scholar, in which he explains his vision of an educated person as “a man thinking”–a clear characteristic of human beings that differentiates them.
the lines you chose to repeat are strong and reveal your determination:
“Do not go gentle into the world of AI’s chains
Rage, rage against the ruining of our brains.”
Thank you so much for writing and sharing today!
Congratulations Susan! This phrase resonates with me, I love it:
“Cautious men work to always stay in their lanes
using their own efforts and wily scholarship.
Rage, rage against the ruining of our brains!”
I do love technology and I have used AI in some grad work as a requirement. But if not effectively taught, it’s just another way to cheat. Let us embrace earned knowledge. Thank you for sharing.
Susan — Powerful and thought provoking! DylanThomas’ “Do not go gentle” and Rage,Rage, against … were really great poetic moves. It works so well to convey your message.
This is brilliant! I am partial to: “Careless men give over their thoughts to domains/
Run by soulless ghosts…” A fraught topic for sure.
Susan, wow, this is so powerful and important. I’m sure most of the world (me included) don’t understand enough to take this to heart. Your powerful language and refrain lines both help me to understand more the danger: “Rage, rage against the ruining of our brains”
Happy Birthday, Leilya!
Wishing a lovely time with your family, safe travels, and peace for your homeland!
Thanks for giving us both a serious and a light option, a taste of Shakespeare, and your beautiful poem.
I love this line:
and its echo:
Tournament Angst
On the Ides of March
The Longhorn fans are fretting
Sweating and waiting
Hoping, worrying
As bracketologists move
Texas back and forth
Across the bubble
Fingers crossed two tourney wins
Earn the Horns last in
Not dreaded first out
Selection Sunday’s judgement
Only one day away
Sharon, I love how you nudged my brain to pivot from Longhorn animal to basketball brackets and then toward the spiritual ritual of Sunday games. Very craftful.
Sharon, what a great story you tell here with the sparse haiku format. I am totally dumb when it comes to who is going to be playing in the tournament; I’m a fair-weather fan of any team that catches my attention. Good luck on the Longhorn’s getting a great place in the brackets!
Good luck to Longhorns, Sharon! I like how you piled up the participles from “fretting” to “sweating and waiting,” and finally “worrying.” It creates the anticipation tension. “Fingers crossed,” they’ll get in, not out. Thank you for the birthday wishes and peace to Ukraine too.
Sharon, I love a haiku so much, and I love them chained together here like pearls on a necklace. May your team go far in March Madness.
Sharon,
I am not a Football fan but I really felt the tension and urgency through your word choices, “fretting, sweating, waiting” and “hoping, worring”.
Leilya, happy, happy birthday. What a great prompt you have provided. It is accessible for all, with all the feelings we have today. I hope your day is full of fun and joy, and not just reading our poems. 🙂
What once was still will rise and drift*
Our “firm” foundation creaks and groans.
Democracy, our crucial gift
Grifters strive for severe facelift.
Past freedom fighters have shown
What once was still will rise and drift
Justice for all–each one–new shift,
Not just the wealthy anglophones.
Democracy, our wondrous gift
They try to ruin empathy, to sift
and separate, their hatred sown.
What once was still will rise and drift
Our Black sisters are justly miffed.
Round our necks persists a millstone.
Democracy, our rising gift
We will take back, may not be swift,
But justice’s bend is fully known.
What once was still will rise and drift
Democracy, our beloved gift
* “What once was still will rise and drift” borrowed from Shakespeare (not sure where)
Denise. Every word of this hit home for me. A much needed contemplation of democracy not as a fixed entity but as one that is being dismantled and one that needs reconstruction by us, stronger than it ever had been.
I decided I didn’t like how I used that Shakespeare line. I have hope that democracy will be saved, so I changed “What once was still will rise and drift” became “What was at risk will rise and lift”. I think it’s better now.
Denise,
Well a well captured reflection. Tough words as repetition goes, and uncharted territory as subject matter goes, but you did splendid. AND, you did it with Shakespeare’s refrain.
Hopefully this will be a hiccup in time…
Thank you, Denise, for your kind wishes and greetings! As for your poem, you create such a powerful move with these two lines in the second stanza:
“Past freedom fighters have shown
What once was still will rise and drift”
I like how you describe democracy as crucial, wondrous, rising, and beloved gifts. Each has its rightful place, but we have to strive to keep it this way.
I certainly hope that “We will take back.” Thank you for the poem!
Denise, the repeating lines ground the message with their weight – necessary for tackling such serious concerns for our democracy. I’m reminded of Maya Angelou’s words “And still I rise” as a powerful ally to the direction our democracy needs to take in your words “will rise and lift” (from your redraft below). Inspiring!
Denise, many finger snaps for you! I love the repetitiveness of what democracy is: “our crucial gift, our wondrous gift, our rising gift, our beloved gift”. Let justice prevail!
Denise, this form works so beautifully with the rhyme and rhythm of the words and it carries the repeating line and strong message. Oh, I feel the hope here in your words.
Denise — Your words are truth! It is hard to believe that we are living through so much uncertainty and turmoil but I believe that we will weather through and preserve “Democracy, our beloved gift”
Standing and clapping!!! You and Stef both had me shouting, “YES!”
Loved how you worked with the borrowed line.❤️
Denise,
this is incredible. It’s beautifully structured; the dang villanelle is a villain! Such a challenge! You make it seem effortless. Most of all, you capture so many dysfunctions of our society very well.
Torn A do?
She brews in the West,
anxious,
They huddle in their nest.
Bibles fling dust of unaware,
She startles them to care.
Now,
They need it,
No denying,
They start reading it.
I sit and feel her outreach,
Hours before they preach.
“Where do the poor men go?
She is so fast, but his money is so low.”
Funny they know what to say,
funny they don’t know His way.
The mockingbirds aren’t afraid,
singing
without a barricade.
My rocking chair sways faster,
Shall I pray to our Master?
if I do,
I’ll be like them,
If I don’t,
I won’t,
Know Him.
She closes in, stretching a five,
I touch brick, the pig survived.
maybe I’ll read the tale,
That’ll save me from
Her hell.
My chair rocks and rocks,
As my heart ticks and tocks.
Fairytale or ancient belief,
Or wisdom of a
Cherokee chief.
Too late is always near,
Especially,
In moments of fear.
maybe I’m the fairytale,
and all shall
End well.
I hear the final song of the mockingbird,
Is it mocking me?
Worried for what hasn’t occurred?
Boxer,
Storms are on my mind and in my backyard,too. Physical and ideological, so I read your poem in both ways. I feel the unmentioned wolf blowing down the bricks and pray the Mockingbirds can keep singing.
Wow, Boxer, your poem is haunting. The storms, the faith, the using of faith, the poor, beliefs. I’m fascinated and in awe of this beauty today. These lines really stick out to me:
Thank you, Boxer! I could comment at many lines in your poem. To me, the reflection on our time is one of the leading threads here. Your lines: “Funny they know what to say, /
funny they don’t know His way” make me think
about people who hide behind the “right” words doing wrong things. And I keep rereading these lines:
“My rocking chair sways faster,
Shall I pray to our Master?”
We should all, probably, pray and then do something about it. The line about Mockingbird is haunting. Sometimes, we have more questions than answers.
Boxer,
We are in such stormy times and your poem captures a range of emotions for me. Something about these lines made me feel a sense of hope but I know the dread and fear are still close.
Well done, Boxer.
Leilya,
Happy Birthday! Thanks for letting me think a bit more Shakespearean. I am still in a haiku mode, and a political funk, so I mixed a couple of the meanderings together to get this end result.
It is wasted time
thinking Elon throws starfish
back to the ocean.
Elon thinks of us,
we are all less than targets
for rocket debris.
Glorious spring,
true winter of our discontent,
breath the contagion.
Pinch yourself to wake,
for nightmares have an ending…
or just a new page.
Rex, your lines
we are all less than targets
for rocket debris
are both spot on and disturbing. Thank you for sharing today.
Rex, bravo! These are the haiku I need in these ridiculous days. So sad, but seems so true: “we are all less than targets / for rocket debris”
And I am clinging to “Nightmares have an ending”
Thank you, Rex! I like your haiku mode because I think people have to be talented to say so much in a few words. I think Elon doesn’t even think about starfish or any fish. The only thing that is on his mind is how to make more green in his pocket.
Love this haiku stanza:
Glorious spring,
true winter of our discontent,
breath the contagion.
It makes me stop and think over and over again. Thank you for our craft today!
Rex, thank you for this. I won’t go into much detail, but your last stanza,
“Pinch yourself to wake,
for nightmares have an ending…
or just a new page.”
I have bruises because this is a living nightmare I can’t wake up from.
So good, Rex, especially…
Happy birthday, beautiful Leilya! I love that you are hosting us on YOUR special day. Thank you. Your poem fills me with hope and I pray we can all have peace and safety soon.
I decided to “form smash” and write a Golden Shovel + Gogyohka poem. My poem has the syllable count 5-7-5-7-7 but I used “the winds begin to shift” as my Golden Shovel line.
The Winds Begin to Shift
The season of spring
Winds and rain, sunshine and clouds
Begin the shedding
To birth new life and sweet joy
Shift us away from sadness
©Stacey L. Joy, 3/15/25
Amen!! Such a great poem!! And the photo is perfect for it!! Nice work!!
Stacey,
Thanks for lifting us up.
I’m ready for spring to
Stacey, loving your smash-up and how you always put it out to the bigger world! I find this community helps shift us away from sadness.
Stacey,
I love the positivity. It is hard not to feel some level of the joy in seeing the blooming in the yards and gardens. The shift at the end is especially appropriate, as I feel we all get in a rut with the way things are going, very much in need of a shift.
Oh, yes, Stacey! So beautiful and hope-filled my friend. And look at that photo you have added the words to. Perfect. “to birth new life and sweet joy” Oh, yes.
Thank you so much, Stacey! I love your poem, especially with the background image that makes it so much brighter and more hopeful. This is a great combination of the Golden Shovel and Gogyohka. Beautifully done, my friend!
Stacey, I am so ready for this. We need to manifest spring into existence. The sunshine, sweet joy, and new life – all of it! Your poem and the image match perfectly.
Stillwater in March
scattered branches pepper the streets
lucky to be spared, for blocks beyond
no streets can be seen;
trees ashed smother concrete, paint
houses; clearings once for grazing
now blaze, smoldering reminders;
all is calm, but air carries remains–
hold your breath as you pick up sticks
Sarah, your words place me right there with you. I’m struck by the tree ashes painting houses; it shows how that safe space can quickly turn, especially followed by the grazing lands ablaze. It feels as if we are all holding our breath against what’s to come (and what already is). Hugs to everyone affected in Stillwater.
Sarah,
I am sorry you are dealing with wildfires. I pray you and your husband are safe. Your poem is both beautiful and sorrowful.
Hugs,
Stacey
Oh, Sarah. Your imagery brings us right to the tragedy.
Sending love to you and the people of Stillwater.
Your last two lines are so poignant—capturing the uneasy, uncertain moments after a disaster when simple actions are magnified.
Sarah, I’m so sorry. I’ve been off reading the news, as I hadn’t heard yet. Your starting with the “scattered branches” and ending with “pick up sticks” makes me think of the broken trees and “smoldering reminders” you all will carry for sometime. Peace to you and all in Oklahoma.
Oh, Sarah, that sounds scary. I am luckily away this weekend, but my husband texts show grim pictures. Love your word choices that create such a vivid imagery: “scattered branches pepper the streets, “trees ashes smother concrete.” I am glad you are safe.
Sarah,
There is too much pain finding its way into poetry lately, but it serves such a role as poetry will serve to archive and chronicle so much of the uncharted territory we are going through as a nation.
You capture nature’s post fire scene well. It is a strange subject matter. Real surreal using Still water as a starting point reference…I keep coming back to my memories of something similar from long ago, and the stillness following, and the smell permeating everything.
Does it move on in a day, or hang in the air for more time? Is this a common March occurrence?
Leilya, Happy Birthday! I am praying for you and your homeland. I am impressed with your form, rhyme, and all around hopeful outlook. Thanks for sharing your day with us. I also wish you safety in the storms we are expecting today.
Thank you for your kind words and greetings, Margaret! Hope is what helps me wake up each morning, but most days lately I am very sad.
Happy birthday, Leilya! I’m so glad you are celebrating your birthday! Your poem is uplifting and love the lines: “My mother’s song I always hear—
The moon retreats, the dawn’s in bloom,” Your lovely use of rhyme adds a powerful joy. I am also traveling today. I’m going to a treehouse to stay. I’m hoping it is a lovely adventure. I’m so worried about our state’s voucher system so I tried to capture that fear although I should have written more or worked a bit harder on my poem, but I need to scoot. May your year be blessed!
Foreboding
I hear the weird sisters call
Beware something wicked this way comes
as ominous clouds brew,
a toxic smell blooms.
I fear for my children
listening to a tyrannical brood call,
You need to be white and straight
or you’re gonna be treated with hate.
A garden of rank grows
dismantling public schools
I have to ask, where will we be
when our young cannot read?
Barb Edler
15 March 2025
Barb, Macbeth is the perfect mood for foreboding! Those ominous clouds remain on the horizon, venturing closer with each day. I love the line “A garden of rank grows” as I think of all the ways rank can be defined (stench is my favorite here). And a treehouse adventure – what a beautiful way to spend the weekend. Wishing you much fun.
Barb, those opening lines set the whole mood…ominous, indeed. And those last lines pierced my heart. Helping “our young” to read has been a large part of my job for years; this year I am grateful to be focusing on the joy of reading vs. scores…because scores have been problematic for so long. And I could not agree more with the underlying message: Treating others with hate is inhuman.
I’m loving how you used a Shakespeare line from Macbeth to write a poem about the fate of education. There is a spell on this nation with disrespect of teachers and the value of knowing a thing or two about being able to read and function in life. My poor aunt was beside herself this week and called me in a panic – – she’s a retired educator and so worried about the state of affairs. I think you hit the nail on the head with this one. I would love to share it with her.
Barb, wow, what a blend of history classics and modern social complications. What would Shakespeare’s words portray if modern intersections of diversity were welcomed in his work? Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Barb! I hope your treehouse adventure is enjoyable. You are right, in times like this, I also want to find an escape somewhere. Luckily, my children are with me this weekend. I love the tone of your poem, and your title suits perfectly here. I, too, am worried about a garden of the rank growing and public schools suffering. Such a timely poem!
Barb, tears, here.
What a message: “You need to be white and straight
or you’re gonna be treated with hate.”
And that last stanza is absolutely gut wrenching.
Barb,
Thank you for capturing my similar sense of panic so well. I loved the garden of rank as description, but not so much reality. The irony of the toxic smell, and so many cannot catch the scent. A very ides of March foreboding.
Dannnnnnnng! I don’t have words.
Barb,
I love Macbeth and the way you leverage its lines in your poem. I fear the wicked are here. Where will we be is the question of the hour.
First of all, Happy Birthday! I enjoyed your poem — it felt as light as the subject you were writing about. And I appreciate having a balance of joyful changes and less joyful ones as part of this writing invitation today. I decided to have a little fun with mine as I borrowed the lines you suggested from Shakespeare.
On Seeking Passage Through Storms by Erica J
On the Ides of March, the winds begin to shift.
What once was still will rise and drift.
And though we seek less tumultuous tides,
I will surely weather it with you by my side.
Because to me each moment is a treasured gift,
one I embrace with arms open wide!
So, come wind! Crack your cheeks with blowing
we’ll race towards that horizon — smiles aglowing!
Erica, wow, love the positive power to face the winds and to treasure the one by your side. Lovely poem!
Love your heartwarming and embracing nature, Erica! Yes, we will take it, ” So, come wind!” Thank you for the poem, kind words, and birthday wishes 🙂
Erica, I love the hope here in working together with the storms. My favorite: “So, come wind! Crack your creeks with blowing”
Happy birthday to you, Leilya! What an inventive and timely challenge for us to work with today! And the options!
It may take me a bit as we have outages here due to storms last night but I look forward to tackling this.
Thank you, Susan ❤️
Prompt number two:
Fading Away
The thunder cracks and the windows shake.
Roaring winds seem to make the Earth quake.
Simply days ago, the frosted panes were cold from His touch.
It was only yesterday the grassed cracked and crunched, but today, not so much.
The sun glimpses through the cloudy sky, no longer opaque.
Piercing through the soggy ground, green shoots say hello.
Oh how fast they seem to grow.
The looming trees have softened their gaze,
Relishing in the sun’s praise.
We must remember that despite the rain, up there smiles a rainbow.
I turn to look at Winter’s scowl,
Disheartened He can no longer be on the prowl
With a wave and a smile I’m sure to say—
“I’ll miss you friend, too bad today is your last day.”
With that He slowly fades away,
But this time, without the look of dismay.
Mae, what a fantastic spring poem. Love your use of imagery and your imagery throughout. I especially enjoyed “Winter’s scowl”. Excellent title for this timely poem!
Mae, Oh, how I long for these days! Your poem is an invitation to all things new. I feel as if I am one of those trees relishing the sun (and longing for walks in warmer weather). Thank you for this bright spot today.
Thank you for sending off Winter with this beautiful poem, Mae! Love spring images revealing the nature’s awakening and holding promise. The final two lines gave me a sense of peace.
It took a while to discover who “His touch” belonged to. I love the sandwiched in second stanza, where spring is winning. Then I realized when He was named in the last stanza. It’s always nice when Winter fades away. Clever and lovely poem.
Hello Mae! I love how you’ve given Winter a personality. You make winter leaving feel more like saying bye to an old friend! Endings can be calm when we know their role in their cycle. This is a beautiful poem on life and transformation.
Happy Birthday Leilya, thank you for hosting today and giving us options.
Beware the ides of social transformation
We can’t stay neutral, in hibernation
Stop book fires, human bans
Tariffs, anti-intellectualism, let’s give it to the man
Et tu, my friends? How can we fight beyond oration?
Yes! YES! This! You nailed it this morning, Stefani! Every word here holds equal weight and importance. It’s time to coalesce into human doings.
Thank you, Stefani! Your poem is so resonant today. “How can we fight beyond oration?” is not just a question for me, but a call for action. Love your rhyming words–sharp and precise!
Stefani, I love the actions of your poems, especially “Stop book fires, human bans”. The nod to Shakespeare is effectively delivered in your last line. Great question, too!
Standing and clapping 👏🏽 🔥 👏🏽 🔥because this is exactly how we can shift the winds of insanity! Thank you, Stef!
Oh, yes, dear Stefani! Thank you for your poem. “book fires, human bans”–oh, it’s so much. And those haunting questions: “Et tu, my friends? How can we fight beyond oration?”
Stefani,
Dang, gurl! This is 🔥. I wish I’d read your poem earlier today. I’ve been bogged down after reading a false equivalency blog post earlier. Your poem says what I wanted to say and does it so much better than I.
Happy Birthday, Leilya! We celebrate you!
Thank you, Fran! 🙂
Happy birthday, Leilya! Your prompt rides that line for the significance of this date–between the weight of history and the joyous buoyancy of your day. I pray for the welcome change you speak into the world. We pray for your homeland daily at school. Know that you are in our thoughts.
The Elephant Kingdom
There once were civilians who thunk
Our king’s the epitomy of spunk
Hands raised in the air
They did willingly forswear
Each freedom as if it were junk.
The kingdom soon withered and sunk
Civilian rights had been clearly shrunk
While they’d turned a blind eye
To every damn lie
Even as their gold filled up his trunk.
Thank you, Jennifer! This poem is so clearly describes the kingdom that there is no need to name it or its king. I love how you changed “think, thought, thought” to “thunk” in the first line because people who think would, probably, wouldn’t choose this king. Your rhyming words are punchy from thunk to, spunk, junk, sunk, shrunk, and trunk. I will remember your poem for the nearest four years at least.
A limerick doing everything limericks do best…the rhymes, the beats, the wordplay… perfect! All with the red flag of warning waving from the turrets. There are lessons from fallen empires of the past, and even the pattern in the books of Kings in the Bible: evil leaders followed by good followed by evil followed by good…and so on. In all I find cautionary tales, indeed – for the state of the kingdom as well as for the state of the human heart.
Jennifer, this is such a creative piece! I love the fun works like thunk and spunk! I enjoy how this can be applicable to multiple situations at multiple points in history!
Wow, I love your poem, Jennifer. The gold filling up his trunk is especially striking. It’s difficult to understand the minds who support “The Elephant Kingdom”.
Oof! Jennifer, such a playful way to approach this prompt with a matter that is anything but funny. “turned a blind eye to every damn lie” I am struggling to forgive those in my community who contributed to the “kingdom”.
These limericks are PERFECTION! The flow, the rhymes and of course the message! Yes, Jennifer! In my mind, trunk is both box and car trunk (Tesla) here, brilliant!
This is amazing! What a creative and true take on the limerick – and such a fun form this close to March 17. I’m laughing at the rhyme scheme and rhythm and message. It’s so much fun and yet because it is true, it’s also scary. I’m worried about the kingdom here on earth – – some days I just wish the heavenly kingdom would throw up its hands and say ENOUGH! and come on back and reign supreme. Love, love this poem.
Jennifer! Yes to every word of this. Wow. Can you send this to a letters to the editor page? I think it needs a larger audience. Every line is perfect, and the limerick is the perfect form for the absurdity of it all. Yes, as you said to Stefani, we all need to become human doings.
Hello Jennifer! These are AMAZING limericks! That gut-punch message of willful blindness is delivered with a rhythm that bounces along flawlessly!
Well if this isn’t just perfecto!! Love the humor and honesty!
Leilya, what a creative and challenging prompt! I confess to wanting to turn and run for my life at the word “villanelle.” The form seems so effortless; it is NOT. And so I tried free verse, my default. Crickets. Nothing. Drat it all…back to the villanelle. By this point I was catching a little vibe of Roman times… I returned to a favorite image, the “golden rim”…not exactly pleased yet with the rhythms of my poem, but here’s what I’ve got so far. Thank you for this and for your limerick – the most beautiful and hopeful one I’ve ever seen! Talk about transformation, what you did with this form!
Gratiam pro gratia
As evening descends in shadows dim
A toast to ceasefire of life’s fight:
Drink, my love, from the golden rim
The face of the morrow will be less grim
See how our embers retain the light
As evening descends in shadows dim
Toss off your cloak of fraying trim
Kneel by me to pray with all our might
Drink, my love, from the golden rim
There sparkles yet a priceless gem
Within the pocket, glittering bright
As evening descends in shadows dim
Hold my hand – let’s sing a hymn
Before we take our earthly flight
Drink, my, love, from the golden rim
Sweet chalice of life, abrim
Despite this darkest night
As evening descends in shadows dim
Drink, my love, from the golden rim
Fran, this is me bowing down to you for attacking the villanelle. I have been there, giving a form a go, reluctantly giving up, only to return to what was started. It’s weird how the brain works (while fighting what it wants). I’m drawn to the light scattered throughout your poem, from the golden rim, to the embers and glittering gems. We must keep finding that light. A true fight. Your choice of repeated line (as evening descends in shadows dim) reflects the weight of what keeps fighting that light and the hopelessness we’re meant to feel each time it pops back up. I’m so glad you returned to finish this piece!
Fran, this is a beautiful villanelle! I am in love with the lines you repeat:
As evening descends in shadows dim
and
Drink, my love, from the golden rim.
The tone of the poem is warm, caring, full of love. The word choices–that Roman vibe–are amazing.
My absolute favorite part:
“Hold my hand – let’s sing a hymn
Before we take our earthly flight
Drink, my, love, from the golden rim”
Thank you for this gem early in the morning!
Fran, I am much impressed by your villanelle. The imagery of flight and drinking from the golden rim are striking. I definitely feel a sense of impending doom with the entreaty to drink and the darkening shadows. Powerful poem!
Wow, look at you knocking out a villanelle! “Sweet chalice of life” is my favorite phrase.
There is such hope here for the lingering light that seems fading by the day but can pick back up with the mere breath of a hymn sung by many voices. The glimmer, the embers, the shadows dim……I’m feeling like the church on Christmas Eve candlelight when all the world is dark…..and then a spark……and then the light……and then a Savior. It’s a beautiful feeling right now. Gorgeous form, Fran. You masterfully weaved this one.
Oh, my goodness, you are a poet, my friend. The “golden rim” is a beautiful image. And the gratitude in your title is lovely. Here’s to drinking from the golden rim.
Everything about the “Drink from the Golden Rim” imagery is stunning. It feels like finding something priceless in the middle of something difficult. Your poem feels like a perfect mix of sadness and hopeful moments. I love how you talk about finding gems and light in dark times. This poem was extremely comforting for me to read!
simply beautiful, Fran!
Good morning, Leilya, and thank you so much for hosting us today! Stay safe in your travels. You’ve been on my mind so much lately, and your final stanza of your poem for your homeland is filled with hope on your birthday! Happy birthday!
The Shakespeare line you reference is quite apt today on the Ides of March:
“On the Ides of March, the winds begin to shift.
What once was still will rise and drift” (Shakespeare)
I woke to the ding of a text from my daughter in Kentucky, where storms are rolling through. I hope these winds, in the words of Shakespeare, rise and drift….somewhere where they do no damage. My made-up form follows the time of her text and the date, with that many words on each line: 5:51 on 3/15 so 5-5-1-3-1-5.
An Ides of March Prayer
her text: pray for us~
high winds, hail upon us
{praying}
daughter, finance, grandson
{praying}
Lord, keep them all safe
fiance, not finance, in the 4th line…..
I pray they will all be safe, Kim. I am in awe of how you arrived at your form, the numberplay drived from your daughter’s text. Brilliant! I recall hearing that the universe is made of numbers…I know it is made of infinitely interconnected patterns like this.
derived* from – drat!
I need to find a autotext error to continue the pattern!
*autocorrect!
And there it is!! 😂😂😂
Kim, your created form offers so many possibilities! I’m excited to offer this as an option for my students. I can see them totally getting into creating a poem based on the time/date of a text. I awoke early today to storm winds battering the house and wondered what I might find (a few branches down near the road). I’ll add your daughter to my prayers today that she finds her way through the Kentucky storms. What wild weather!
Thank you, Kim! What a cool form you invented–time and date. I am now thinking that we could write a poem for each day in response to a certain text.
Yes, keep them all safe, I pray too. I left home, and there are also tornado watches and severe storm warnings in Louisiana today. Hope everyone on the way of these rough winds are safe.
Kim, we got hit hard last night, but did not suffer much damage. The lightning was frightening so I understand the prayer of your poem. A great metaphor for more than the literal message, too, and I didn’t even catch the misspelling. Hope all is well.
Kim,
I’m eager to try your new form.
I like how you give us the interplay between your reading and reacting:
Kim, I just went to your blog to see if there were any updates. I’m sorry for the scare. I hope all are safe now. I like your use of brackets around {praying}. It makes me think of hands around them, your family being held in safety. Fun little error correction thread that follows here…
You are so inventive, Kim. To come up with your own form that reflects the time and date is so genius.
I hope they remained safe.
Welcome to the March Open Write, Dear Friends of Poetry! I will be mostly on the road today, but will try to respond to your poems as much as I can. Here is my haiku for today:
In Colorado,
Warmed by my children’s smiles–
Time, take a break please!
Oh, how wonderful! I have spent my past 2 spring breaks in CO. I love it there. I’m at a conference today for school librarians. We have so much to talk about! I do love seeing how March Open Write has started. Thank you!
Happy conferencing, Linda!
Safe travels, Leilya! Enjoy your family!
Thank you, Jennifer!
Oh, so glad you are doing something special for your birthday. Don’t worry about us. Enjoy!
Thank you so much, Denise! I am so grateful to all of you for commenting and covering for me.