Welcome to Verselove, a place for educators to nurture their writing lives and to advocate for writing poetry in community. We are gathering every day in April to write– no sign-ups, no fees, no commitments. Come and go as you please. All that we ask is that if you write, you respond to others to mirror to them your readerly experiences — beautiful lines, phrases that resonate, ideas stirred. Enjoy. (Learn more here.)
Our Host: Denise Krebs
Denise Krebs lives in Yucca Valley, California, near Joshua Tree National Park, where some park rangers have lost their jobs. She is a retired elementary and TESOL teacher. She remains interested in translanguaging– the idea of students accessing the whole of their linguistic repertoire. One of her favorite things to do is play with her 2.5-year-old grandson. She blogs and resists at Dare to Care.
Inspiration
In February, I took a free poetry class through Coursera called “Sharpened Visions: A Poetry Workshop.” A poet and Poetry Friday friend, Tabatha Yeatts, had told me about it, so we took it together and encouraged each other. One of the prompts we both enjoyed was called “Biting Rhymes: Rhyming Can Be Hard, Let Someone Else Do It For You.” We were to borrow the end rhymes from another poem or song, preferably a famous one, and create a new poem. Tabatha took the rhyming words from “The Arrow and the Song” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
GRAFFITI
By Tabatha Yeatts
Spray paint shakes, shoots through the air–
A word from a can freed to go where
It lands on a wall and gives in-sight–
Not every wall catches words in-flight.
Go outside, breathe unplugged air–
What you seek finds you out there.
Start out weak and wrap up strong,
Listen up hard for a skeleton song–
That’s all you need to sprout a mighty oak–
The bones, the seeds, your acorn unbroke.
It’s not like the end is even the end–
The painted-over wall is still your friend.
Process
Find a poem with rhyming or song lyrics you want to use. Extract the rhymes and write them down on the right margin. Fill in your own line for each rhyme. (If you look closely, you’ll see Tabatha changed one of Longfellow’s rhymes, so that is an option, as needed.)
About her process, Tabatha said, “I realized pretty quickly that I needed to choose a topic that was really different from the original text so I could think new thoughts with those rhymes.”
Since I’m growing my linguistic repertoire, I added some Spanish to my poem today. You can add words from another language too, if you wish, because the U.S.A. will always be multilingual.
Denise’s Poem
Mi amiga, my friend,
Gracias por tu ayuda again
My skills are slowly creeping
I think of Spanish while I’m sleeping
You challenge my brain,
Our sweet friendship remains.
I used to study solo alone;
No ripples from the tiny stone.
Your knowledge lights my lamp,
brings me hope. I won’t damp-
en el entusiasmo’s light
Gracias, mi amiga, día y night
________________________________
(Rhyming words for my poem are from verses 1 and 2 of “Sound of Silence” by Simon and Garfunkel.)
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.
I’m late, but still want to make sure that I write one for every day in April. So, here it is. I really enjoyed this prompt, Denise. I chose a short one since I’m catching up – “First Fig” by Edna St. Vincent Mallay
Last Fig
The world burns at both its ends;
It seems on the horizon – only night;
But in between me and my friends
We’ll enjoy what’s left of light!
Chea, I like it! The clever title, the opposite of the original, made me smile. It is always a joy to enjoy the last of the sweet day light with friends.
Oh Denise! This was so hard!
Rhyme is one of those techniques I mostly stay far away from. Rhythm, yes. Word play? I’m in. But rhyme challenges me–it feels too forced or too trite or just too obvious.
But in the spirit of trying and working to craft something meaningful, I turned to Emily Dickinson and her very well known poem, “Hope” is the Thing with Feathers and borrowed some rhyming words–as well as using her title as inspiration on the slant for my title.
An afternoon at the Monterey Bay Aquarium under the influence of the sea–both inside the aquarium and outside in the wilds of the magnificent Monterey Bay provided the content: jellies, the giant Pacific octopus, the grumpy looking moray eel to name just a few.
(To see the photos head over to my blog: https://thinkingthroughmylens.com/2025/04/03/hope-unfeathered-npm25-day-3/ )
Hope Unfeathered
In depths of blue
another world appears
breaths unbodied
inside out tears
Spiraling within an octopus soul
rages a tentacled suctioning storm
transformational power of the rainbow
a palette of colors from cooling to warm
Some float and bob
unnoticed unheard
hope unfeathered
fantastical creatures, marine mammals, and birds
Under the spell of the sea
wild wet weirdly wonderful
I splash in the mystery of extremity
so much to explore–just the ocean and me
Kim Douillard
4/3/25
Hi Kim,
This is an amazing sounding poem. The rhythms you create are complex and work so well with your rhymes. The assonance and consonance on the 3rd stanza, especially, sound like the ocean and then the longer 4th line pulls us out of the rhythmic pattern at calls us to attention.
And I checked out the pictures in the blog—that is a grumpy eel!
Kim, wow! That was amazing. You learned something new, using rhymes without sounding “too forced or too trite or just too obvious.” I love this and the memories of Monterey Bay it elicits. Some lovely word play here too. Nice alliteration. I’m off to check out the photos now.
Kim,
Your title is genius. Thinking of fish as unfeathered is more genius, especially given the evolutionary cycle. Your rhyme feels natural, perhaps in part because your lines vary in length. It’s that sing-songs forced rhyme I often struggle with, and there’s none of that here. Instead, we glide along on your words, as though fish ourselves.
I love this prompt. I read it this morning and was struck by Tabatha’s observation about needing to choose a topic different from the original poem. And yet… it took me all day and multiple attempts to get close to what I wanted. In the end, Tabatha was right: Edna St. Vincent Millay was certainly not thinking about trampolines when she wrote her poem about spring! Lucky for me.
Trampoline
Remember how we would spring
into the air, grow
ten feet tall, then slow
our fall with the taut zing
of the tensile tarp, then fly again, wing
and flip and twist to show
off our tender bodies, land and – oof – blow
out our breath, and bring
our feet
beneath us. We knew
we could live forever, beat
everyone and anything and – oh!- the view
from the top of the arc was almost as sweet
as you.
Rhymes from Edna St. Vincent Millay’s Sonnet III: “Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring”
I love your use of enjambment, Amanda. And your word choice and sounds are terrific.
Oh, Amanda, I’m so glad you took Tabatha’s good advice! Yes, indeed. I’m glad she didn’t write about trampolines because you have nailed this beauty! Wow! Ten feet tall, taut zing, tensile tarp, tender bodies… So many amazing images! I love your poem.
Amanda, I love how you stick the landing on this with that last turn at the end. Denise mentioned my other favorite group of lines—the image of growing 10 feet tall! I can imagine outspread arms at the top of a bounce and then the sharp T sounds are so crisp!
Amanda,
This is a high-flying treat that sparks childhood memories. We were required to learn some trampoline moves in junior high gym, and my youngest son mooned me on the trampoline while doing a back flip. Yes, he was that kind of kid, who later did a backflip dismount and broke his arm. The rhyme works so well for a trampoline ode with its bouncing. Fun poem.
I love the prompt. I’ll come back later to add a contribution.
Denise,
Thank you for your prompt and your poem! I love your infusion of Spanish and really enjoyed the way these lines sound –“I used to study solo alone;No ripples from the tiny stone.” Wish I could have gotten here sooner, but look forward to returning to this
later. My rhyming words are borrowed from the first stanza of Wordsworth, “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud”
The State of Things
A bloated cloud
casts ruinous shadows over hills
brings icy rain to thrash the crowd.
Still thirsty are the daffodils.
Might we find shelter in the trees?
Hope drifting on a breeze?
Tammi, your title and the first four lines of darkness–bloating, ruinous shadows, icy rain thrashing, thirst. Then the two questions to bring in hope and shelter. Beautiful. Keep striving.
Such great word choice, Tammi. I love the ruinous shadows.
I’m with Denise, Tammi; I love (and need) the “Hope” and “shelter” in the end lines! Here’s to that “breeze” becoming a gust or gale (sooner than later).
Mmm… I played with these rhymes for a while today and didn’t come anywhere near what you’ve done here. I love how you use the daffodils to turn the poem from bloated darkness towards potential shelter.
There are so many rich metaphors in this brief poem. You really do capture the malaise of the moment and then pull us toward hope in those last two lines. The question marks are really doing some work, too. Do we dare hope?
Hey Denise,
This was a fun prompt! I loved the Graffiti poem and your exemplar poem–the use of Spanish really makes it sing.
I had all intentions to write a light-hearted poem–flipping some Metallica lyrics. So, yeah, that didn’t happen. Here’s my (darker) version of Leper Messiah.
Bow to Leper Messiah
Poisoned fruit follows from poisoned root’s start
and since we all watered the plant, we all have our part,
his dark spectacle littered the newspages in my town
but instead of turning the page, we entertained the clown–
an empty void sucking attention, we fed his disease,
heaped praise upon vulgarities, made him our main story,
in weakness or in worship, he brought us to our knees,
A modern day Ozymandius, basking in his own glory,
selling vice as virtue and hate as healing, we bought the lie,
and now that we’re snared in the web, he’ll never say goodbye,
a charismatic conman, peddling fear at our first meet,
he forged himself a throne, when first we gave him a seat,
hear him laugh, fanning the flames, setting our sacred church afire,
as the world look. on in horror, we bow to our leper messiah.
Dave,
This is the sad truth! The nation has truly been conned by “A modern day Ozymandius, basking in his own glory.” Spot on depiction of our narcisstic leader. I just hope the rest of the nation wakes up and sees his true colors.
Oh, Dave, a masterpiece. You have spoken such truth about “we all have our part” The way “we entertained the clown” and “fed his disease” Oh, my gosh, such a great summary of what we have done and what we are becoming. Can you send this to an opinion page or letters of your newspaper?
Thanks Denise! Hmmm, I might give that a shot.
Wow – so many good lines in here – “fed his disease” “heaped praise upon vulgarities” both really struck me, but “modern day Ozymandius, basking in his own glory” is, in my opinion, note perfect. Wow.
Snared in the web perfectly describes how so many of us feel these days, Dave. Such a timely poem.
Dave,
Seems lots of us have something to say about the jester this month. Check out Susie’s poem. I hate admitting it, but I have magnified his words and deeds in my efforts to get others not to vote for the American idiot. Your poem is a mirror for not just our country but others. I’ve seen headlines about him when I travel. Fabulous poem.
For the broken, I want to pray
Scream, claw, fight away their shame
Show them life isn’t graded on a curve
We don’t always get what we deserve
We can’t always win, we won’t always lose
So don’t fade into the pools of a bruise
Not everything is as dark as it seems
You’re more than a kid with no self-esteem
I know, you have some fight
Come on, step into the light
When life’s a mess, just so you know
There’s always a way back home
Every now and again, it’s good to “throw a fit”
Protect others from fading into the mist
I’m always down to dust off my roar
Because their pain I just can’t ignore
Things don’t always seem so clear-cut
Things don’t aways boil down to good luck
Not everything is as dark as it seems
You’re more than a kid with no self-esteem
–Borrowed lyrics from “Self Esteem” by The Offspring
Ashley — I love how you have turned this dark song of internal conflict and relationship abuse into a motivational poem. I would never have thought to rework the lyrics like you did! Very cool!
Love these lines —
“When life’s a mess, just so you know
There’s always a way back home”
Ashley, this is lovely. A poem of a teacher who cares. “We can’t always win, we won’t always lose” and “There’s always a way back home” are two of my favorite images. They both bring to mind students I’ve had. Thank you for this.
Ashley the message of your rhyming poem was the hook.The first two lines really set the message:
“For the broken, I want to pray
Scream, claw, fight away their shame”
A strong message for your readers.
Denise, your poem is love! I’ve always enjoyed Spanish infused with English in poetry. You nailed it.
I am late posting so I kept it light and rough drafty. I chose six lines from Shel Silverstein’s poem, “If The World Was Crazy” and let my wonderings go. Thanks for another fun prompt. April is off to a fantastic start.
Random Wonderings
Sometimes I wonder what evil people eat
If they consume minds and hearts like meat
Sometimes I wonder why lazy people don’t try
Seems they never knew that work is as easy as pie
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever eat a roast
Nowadays I can barely get away with a simple slice of toast
© Stacey L. Joy, 4/3/25
Your Shel spin is so interesting. Each couplet has a completely different tone, and it really made me think about how our minds race in so many different directions.
Stacey, fun title and list of wonderings. You could add to it with any number of ideas! That’s why I like titles like that. The rhythm of each line makes them fun to read!
Stacey — Shel Silverstein was a great choice. I really enjoy the way this poem can be read as silly and as serious.
These lines — “Sometimes I wonder what evil people eat
If they consume minds and hearts like meat” — especially got me thinking of evil people as vampires, sucking our souls.
The repetition here makes this a lot of fun. My favourite couplet is the first one – I can imagine the illustration to go with evil people eating minds and hearts.
Stacey,
I can tell you what that evil guy eats: McDonald’s and KFC. Your poem is a fun reflection, and I love the seriousness served through a light-hearted verse.
A Weekend Glimpse of Eternity
The weekend’s upon us—the time to behold—
Time to recalibrate, connect, and just hang
Though this weekend might be rainy and cold,
When we look back, we will remember that we sang.
I intend to appreciate each second of the day,
As the sun moves east to west.
Believe it or not I will be home, not away,
So I might even get some rest.
Under myself I feel the need to start a fire—
Inspiration and more joy—because I’m telling no lie,
I’m seeing the approach of my eventual expire,
As we all know that life quickly goes by.
I hope to retire while I am still strong,
And do everything I love all day long.
(The end rhymes are from William Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 73: That time of year thou mayst in me behold.”
Your poem has a lot of wisdom to lend to the reader. I felt like it had a call to action to rest and enjoy the rest as much as the work that inspires us.
Julie, what an interesting poem full of hope of rest and connection. Yes, you deserve a retirement full of time to recalibrate and do what you love.
Julie,
I am longing for the weekend and “Time to recalibrate, connect, and just hang” too. Your message is a great reminder for us to cherish each day and live in the moment.
Thanks Denise for the prompt. I took the rhyming pairs from Dione Warwicks -That’s What Friends Are For”. I used her format, with a line in between the pairs.
Life
When life shows the way
and there is no way out
all you have to say
“Is let the blues away
and let the light shine bright”
Best moment is today
This time is for me
no matter what lies ahead
but then your smile will see
The best way to break this apart
is to rise above it all
and be open with your heart
Your poem brings so much comfort, and it made me want to read the original piece. Your line between the pairs creates a really intriguing effect.
Juliette, what a lovely poem to read at the end of my day. It’s so hope-filled and beautiful. “be open with your heart” Thank you!
Juliette,
“This time is for me
no matter what lies ahead” — What a fantastic message! Love the hopefulness conveyed in your words.
Rewriting history
Telling outright lies
Burying truth in the dirt
But we will rise.
Against you
We feel doom and gloom
Our anger [s]wells
No space, no room
Across many rising and setting suns
and ebbing tides
You may think you are on high
But we will rise.
Our country broken
Can’t believe our eyes
Filled with teardrops
and unanswered cries.
No “we” or “us” only you
Life becoming hard
Words, books, ideas are mines
Not safe in our backyard
Cutting, slicing with word[s]
Wishing we could close our eyes
Block out the current hatefulness
But, WE WILL RISE.
-inspired by Maya Angelou’s “Still I Rise”
I love Dr. Maya Angelou, so I recognized it right away. I love your remix and your message of healing for our country. Thank you for your beautiful hopefulness!
Shelly — This is an honest and heartfelt voice of strength — something we need right now so much. “We will rise” is what I hope for and what we all are working for. I so appreciate the tenderness of these “cries” and “teardrops” and “not safe in our backyard” …these are very REAL feelings. You’ve done Angelou proud…all of us proud. I have yet to determine what hurts most as there eare already so many wounds…but I think rewriting history is stunningly horrible…the act of gaslighting the contributions that fine, hardworking citizens have contributed to this country has sickened me beyond belief. Stripping people of color from the records, from the history books…unreal. I so appreciate that you have seized a sense of hope in your words and Maya’s words. Thank you for this poem! Susie
Ohhhh, this hits it out the park!! Powerful poem and a much needed cry out to those who think they’re winning!
Yes, Shelly! So many good lines, showing our world and what we are fighting for. “Words, books, ideas are mines” is so powerful. So true. Everything seems at risk, but that last line, in all caps–that I’m holding on to tonight!
Shelly,
Yes! We will rise! Angelou is such a fantastic inspiration, and I feel that inspiration in your poem too.
Shelly,
I love the power and hope expressed in your words, although watching the knee benders at universities and law firms shatters my hope some days.
This was fun but a bit difficult. I knew the poem I wanted to use, but it was tough to make some of the words fit what I was thinking about.
Lost Memory
Somehow I didn’t know
even though
it was always here
underneath the winter snow.
It seems quite queer
that is was so near
and never made it out to the lake
at any point this year..
I give my head a shake
frustrated by my mistake
and give the grass a gentle sweep
before it’s covered by another flake.
I musn’t bury it so deep
for it’s mine to hold and keep
and now I lie down to sleep
hoping I can finally sleep.
Borrowed rhymes from Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”
Heather, I like the idea of a lost memory buried beneath the snow. I love the last stanza. “for [the memory] is mine to hold and keep” Precious.
Heather — You’ve truly captured that feeling of a lost memory and the sadness that comes along with it. Especially love these lines —
“I musn’t bury it so deep/for it’s mine to hold and keep”
Heather,
The regret in these lines hit me hard:
They make me wonder about what got in the way of going to the lake.
Heather, you poem pairs really well with Frost’s; both are steeped in this sense of melancholy. Thank you for writing and sharing today!
Heather, this poem tells a story. Beautifully written with the rhyming.What I got was the story line of this poem.
Hi, Denise, thank you for hosting today. Your bilingual poem has an excellent flow, and I can see that you are better and better at Spanish. My favorite line is “Your knowledge lights my lamp,” as if charging you up for more explorations.
I liked your prompt, and when I read it this morning, I decided to bring it to my students right away. Together we wrote the first three stanzas, and I realized that the poem took a bit of a depressing tone, but tried to complete it accordingly. It is a villanelle inspired by Bishop’s “One Art.” The rhymes are from the same poem.
Perfection Isn’t Possible to Master
after Elizabeth Bishop’s “One Art”
Perfection isn’t possible to master;
While we may have ambitious intent,
It often ends in failure or disaster.
The day’s events leave me in fluster—
The things I did, or all the time I spent.
Life seems impossible to master.
To be successful isn’t being faster,
Or richer, or more famed—that’s what we meant.
It often ends in failure or disaster.
I tried to speak my truth—my last, or
Hide behind protective silence as I went.
Perfection isn’t possible to master.
My dreams bloomed brighter, higher, vaster,
But scattered like fall leaves across the continent.
Ambition often ends in failure or disaster.
I parted with these dreams with one small gesture—
A moment soft, tender, but deeply evident.
Perfection isn’t possible to master,
It often ends in failure or disaster.
Leilya, this was genius! I love the original poem, but you worked wonders with it by retooling it.
Leilya,
“One Art” is possibly my favorite poem, definitely my favorite Villinelle. Kudos to you and your students for articulating such truths many of us feel. My favorite lines are
“The day’s events leave me in fluster—
The things I did, or all the time I spent.
Life seems impossible to master.”
Maybe because that’s how I’m feeling this month. You hit a chord w/ this heartfelt poem.
Wow, Leilya, such an important message to share. I worry about some of my gifted students who have the perfectionism issue. It’s a hard one to beat when parents are the same way.
I may need to put this on my classroom wall in the Fall:
Thank you, friend.
Leilya, this is a treasure. Started by your students and finished by you. Special. My favorite line is: “My dreams bloomed brighter, higher, vaster”
Sarah wrote about Ambition today too. Your poem and hers make me feel that being overly ambitious and striving for perfection “often ends in failure or disaster.”
Leilya,
love that you wrote the beginning with your students. Bet they loved it too!
Powerful message:
I borrowed from my favorite sonnet: 116 by William Shakespeare.
Not Quite a Sonnet About Love by Erica J
I write this poem over a problem on my mind
First, not a problem, but I am in love
a status I never thought would myself find
and certainly not a feeling I want to remove.
Second, the problem, is my parents because I mark
And seek a way to share this, but I am shaken;
I fear their rejection, their scrutiny, and their bark
How do I tell them by a woman I am taken?
I have tried, but every instance in person pales my cheeks,
utterly unable to share something that should come
easily to my lips! And now it has been several weeks,
to the point where I cannot help but feel a certain doom:
Yet, why should I feel the weight of being approved?
I am an adult and I am allowed to be loved!
The ending says it all! I love what you did with these borrowed rhymes. I feel the dilemma and the feelings.
Erica, just in Shakespearean tradition, you introduced your problem and ended with a solution. I like the ending: the speaker is coming to term with disregarding. The rhymes are well worked into your poem.
Erica, I almost used sonnet 116 as well. I changed my mind and went with 73. I love that yours is about love—your love—and that love is love! Thank you for taking a risk at a sonnet, and a risk at love (I am not currently brave enough to do either)! Yet!
Erica, love is love, and this is quite a sonnet about love. What a lovely use of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116 to share this. Those closing lines say it all. Peace and best wishes as you find the courage and words.
Somehow it seems wildly appropriate that Sonnet 116 begins “Let me not to the marriage of true minds/ Admit impediments” – as though creating the full circle where your sonnet responds to the original and the original speaks back to yours. I particularly like the final couplet, which truly wraps up the dilemma presented in the first three stanzas. Also: a sonnet! Wow!
I used the rhyming words from Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” to write my poem:
In the cold, dark wood
Alone I stood
For how could I fair?
My heart I now longer wear
Put to rest to lay
There will come a Day
When I will go to a place far, far a-way
Amelia, looks like we had similar inspirations!
I love the way you use this poem as a musing on our own mortality: “There will come a Day/When I will go to a place far, far a-way.”
Those words, in combination with the image of standing alone, cold, and out in nature. What a powerful image.
Amelia, your mirroring of Frost’s poem is amazing. The speaker in your poem also ponders about the life lived and that “Day” that will come eventually to take the speaker “to a place far, far a-way.” Beautifully done! Thank you for sharing.
Amelia, I like the short lines that give good rhythm with the rhyme. Your topic is a big existential one. “Your heart…/put to rest to lay”
Great prompt, Denise — and I loved everything about your poem and your instructions today.
I consoled one of my favorite kids, today, through a tough time — an unexpected breakup. She inspired today’s poem. The rhyme is from Edna St. Vincent Millay’s “What Lips My Lips Have Kissed.”
Don’t ask me why,
his eyes begged. Her head lain
on a student desk, while rain
pounded pavement outside. A sigh.
“Who does that?” she wails. No reply
from me, absorbing her pain
reminded, again,
of all the times I’ve cried, the times she’ll cry,
tears tracing tree
branches down our cheeks, as one
woman. Before
me, the girl is gone.
Before me,
she becomes someone more.
I thought you did an excellent job of capturing the heartbreak evident on the girl experiencing it and paralleling that with the rain outside was quite fitting. I especially loved the lines “tears tracing tree/branches down our cheeks.”
Tears tracing tree! I love that. Some great emotion in this poem.
Oh, Wendy, I know you opened your arms and heart to console the kid. Love your poem’s compassionate tone. As a reader, I am “witnessing” the girl’s pain, and you “absorbing her pain.” These lines are so beautiful, but also vital because they show how you share feelings and experiences:
“tears tracing tree
branches down our cheeks, as one
woman.”
Thank you for such a heartfelt poem!
Wendy, this is beautiful. It makes me sad for your special student, but it also gives me hope for her. She will get through, and she will always remember you were there to hold her broken heart as she grew up today. I can see this image through your words: “tears tracing tree / branches down our cheeks”
Wendy, the sadness pours from the page here. I am glad she had you. This girl becoming “someone more” will never forget you.
Wendy,
So much feeling in your words.
Brilliant imagery and metaphor:
These lines will stick with me.
Denise, thank you for hosting today. I loved how you blended Spanish and English in your poem, and the thankfulness expressed is moving. My poem is borrowed from Resume by Langston Hughes, but I flipped the outcome and tone.
Lost
desperate for clues
we search offramps
call for our lost boy Blue
fearing guns and acid stamps
all that’s awful—
please forgive
our failures, our waffles
the life we failed to give
Barb Edler
3 April 2025
That last line, “the life we failed to give” – so heartbreaking, so true. Beautiful, poignant poem, Barb.
Barb,
I notice the capitalization of “Blue,” a proper noun, a nickname, an elevation of your son. You are so good w/ ambiguity and sophisticated phrase turns. I see the shift after the dash. It’s prayerful and mournful. Beautiful,sad, haunting poem, my friend.
I love Langston Hughes and what you have done here with his rhymes. I especially like the use of waffles because one noun meaning is like forgive us our daily bread. It made me smile.
Oh, Barb. I know this fear with my own son and niece. It’s such an awful way to move through this world. Your wrestling with that fear, and the guilt who comes along for that ride. You handle it so tenderly.
Thank you for this.
Oh, Barb — The sadness is deep and so hard here. The fears are real. Just makes me want to hug you with the comfort of caring. Love, Susie
Barb, your poem carries such a heart-wrenching feeling throughout. It makes me sad. Beautifully crafted and emotionally charged poem! Thank you for sharing.
Barb. My heart hugs your heart. That’s my whole message.
Oh, Barb, your loss is palpable. I’m so sorry for your “lost boy Blue”. And the “please forgive / our failures” Peace and comfort to you, my friend.
Oh, Barb. The desperation, the search for clues, the inherent “why,” the feeling of failure – heart- wrenching. As is the plea for forgiveness. That one-word title applies to boy Blue and as well as to his parents…who are at a loss. Brilliant work but oh – my heart. Words fail. Hugs to you.
I browsed the poems in the books at my public library until I found something I felt had rhymes that I could work with. I chose Amanda Gorman’s “Life,” which is short. I did move the last rhyming word “brought” to the beginning to make it work better with the order.
I didn’t know what idea it would generate, but the sought, fought, thought, and brought just reminded me of my immigrant families, and a message today from a student that her father had been released from custody set me to this. Yesterday’s poem ended with some hope, today’s somewhat the opposite.
Life Reimagined
not money or possessions but hope
crammed in the backpacks they brought
to the North they journeyed
the American Dream they sought
fleeing violence and extortion
for their children they fought
arrived to this land
a new beginning they thought
Cheri, powerful poem and timely poem. I love the way this poem flows and the end is heartbreaking!
Cheri, that last line. It haunts me. “a new beginning they thought.”
Life reimagined indeed. Even when families “arrive,” their struggles, their uncertainty continues to fester.
I’ll be thinking on this one a while.
Oh Cheri — I feel that hurt here. The sense of betrayal, dreams blown to smithereens. This is a very important poem…important to hold in our hearts and understandings. Lives being “reimagined” and gone foul…where is the American Dream now? So awful a time we are in. Thank you for this poem of understanding. Susie
The rhyming words fit this topic perfectly. I can feel my heart breaking at the end.
Cheri, yes, unfortunately, hope is fleeting for many immigrant families now, which the speaker reveals in the final line. This is sad, and I want to hope things will change for the better. You’ve skillfully used the rhymes from the original Gorman’s poem. Thank you for your poem today too!
Cheri, wow, such a great poem about a tragic circumstance in our country. “hope / crammed in the backpacks” is a beautiful image. I’m so sorry for your student’s family who now have to worry about their hopes and plans.
*borrowed rhymes from Hamilton’s The Schuyler Sisters, this was a really fun format!!!
beauty is not pain
–
You know what they say in the big city
Maybe she’s born with it, maybe she’s fake pretty.
But what they don’t say because it’s not funny
is that makeup’s CEO is a man making money
telling women to buy more mascara and heels
while they’re endlessly chasing society’s ideals.
Mirrors and media whisper, “you disgust me.”
While salves and serums snicker, “you discussed me.”
Common sense slaps her to say, “trust me.”
Beauty is NOT pain[e].
Don’t be insane.
Ah! What a great idea! I never thought about Hamilton…but that is so rhyme-y in all the best ways. I love how your lines seamlessly link to those rhymes. That, “trust me” oh…such devil of a line!
Wow, what a topic. You have shined a light on something that is often forgotten. “The Schuyler Sisters” rhymes are perfect for this. “You disgust me.” “You discussed me.” Wow.
[Poe offered us “The Raven,” and it seemed an apt vehicle. I took a lot of liberties (pun intended) Susie]
LADY LIBERTY
My days, my nights, all grown weary
of listening to his lies and lore;
assaults each night they come tapping
waking me at nightmare’s door;
each day and night just more and more.
Surely through the bleak December
someone would rise from Senate floor,
find courage even if he had to borrow;
Lady Liberty weeps tears of sorrow,
at her feet Atlantic rises evermore.
Nine hundred pages, we pulled back the curtain,
a plot unlike any seen before:
no blacks, no women, no browns repeating,
“We’ll come get you, we’re at your door.”
All this, then, there’s more,
quoth the document, turn the page, there’s more.
His babble, diatribes grow longer;
we plead to legislators, we implore;
jackboots stand outside stamping, rapping,
rapping at my chamber door,
demanding papers, IDs, and more.
A neighbor’s career stripped away, he’s fearing;
a student grabbed disappearing, never before
have we seen such a token
of evil and hubris and greed and more.
Lady Liberty shrieks at forests kindled, unchecked burning;
firefighters fired. “Just let ‘em burn,” pollute as before
as we watch in horror at window lattice;
for oil, they torch and drill, explore
ways to ruin, defile, yelling “More, give us more!”
From Atlantic to Pacific and across to global shore,
the world cries out, “Nevermore
can we trust that country, Nevermore.”
I write my letters, make my calls, ask plainly,
can this country all these burdens bore?
Will we stand and stop this inhumane being
kicking down our country’s door?
Lady Liberty cries,”Democracy may rise Nevermore.”
But the Orange his mantra only
spews forth from flaccid lips outpour,
“I’m King! I’m King!” His wee hands aflutter;
such hubris we’ve seen ne’er before.
Lady Liberty wades in her tears, “Nevermore.”
Shocked we witnessed pandering spoken,
a near romance with dictators, his stock and store;
unholy disaster
till his babbling no logic bore;
a bobbing puppet in a Putin storefront laughing evermore,
Whilst Lady Liberty weeps just offshore.
We sit guessing, no fitting words expressing
what we know deep within our core:
this Pan reclining
as frogs from his mouth spew o’er,
this Caligula and his Tiberius Gemellus gloating o’er.
Lady Liberty whispers, “Nevermore.”
Hollow promises, breaking families, this devil
tossed upon our shore
to snare those disenchanted
in search of Gilead, they implore:
“Cleanse of color, difference, truth—
“Make America white again.”
“Nevermore,” Lady Liberty doth assure.
The specter, never yielding, still is sitting
twiddling thumbs on golden throne behind his royal door;
his tongue has all the seeming of delusions he is dreaming
with democracy near shattered on the floor.
Lady Liberty is no more.
by Susie Morice, April 3, 2025©
What a challenge you undertook in choosing Poe’s poem, but it is beautifully done. My favorite line, I think, is “The specter, never yielding, still is sitting,” though I do love that entire last stanza the most.
Susie!
! I don’t know where to start w/ all I love about your reimagining of The Raven. Of course “we hands” is perfect. I also love these lines:
This is
“jackboots stand outside stamping, rapping, /
ways to ruin, defile, yelling “More, give us more!”
The greed and graft never end. I just heard Marc Elias’s brilliant take on the tariffs on Deadline Whitehouse. ME says Trump is living in the 1980s and hasn’t read Project 2025. Love the allusions, especially Caligula. I see the orange one as Nero and think about Nero chewing glass. And all these innocents being grabbed in the night and day and sent to El Salvador is unforgivable. Thanks for sharing your brilliance. Peace.
Susie, what a masterpiece you’ve created today. “The Raven” is the perfect foreboding poem to show the horrors that continue daily. I loved Lady Liberty’s presence throughout the poem and your allusions are brilliant. I found this stanza the most relatable and frightening: A neighbor’s career stripped away, he’s fearing;
a student grabbed disappearing, never before
have we seen such a token
of evil and hubris and greed and more.”
“Unholy disaster” is fitting, and I am also calling and pleading and protesting and feeling overwhelmed that democracy will be “shattered on the floor” forevermore.
Brilliant poem. I hope you try to have this published! Hugs, friend!
Mic drop. Like a tidal wave. Holy smokes, Susie! You rocked it like a homerun and ran the bases again. With Poe. How fitting! Nevermore, nevermore. You are on fire!
This is phenomenal. I am filled with admiration. Such a great source poem for rhymes, and, wow, you just flowed with it! Thank you; I needed this.
Wow! I thought of using this poem, but I was intimidated. I can’t pick a favorite line because it was all so impactful. Lady Liberty whispering, weeping, crying, wading, etc. had me tearing up.
Susie, you are a titan, a poetic one! This is such a grandiose poem; someone needs to deliver it to the Senate and Congress floors, to the White House, and to replace the State of Union Address with the State of Truth Address making this poem an opening. Bravo!
Susie, wow. So much to love here. Brava, my friend.
These lines are masterful:
The heartbreaking Lady Liberty and climate catastrophe both.
Then this line that brought so much hope:
For just one stanza though, for that last line is breaking me today. “Lady Liberty is no more.” Please, God, may it not be so.
So powerful, Susie.
Denise,
Thank you for hosting. Tabitha’s poem reminds me how much our attitudes about graffiti have changed through the years. Referring to a wall as a friend is interesting. I’m thinking about that. About your poem: Fun code-switching. Do you have nightmares in Spanish? It’s good to have friends to spark our enthusiasm. That ending is my favorite part.
My poem is inspired by part of the picture book What Can a Mess Make by Bee Johnson (2024). The book gives a positive spin on messes.
What Can a Tariff Make?
stock market clatter.
cha-chinging juice.
economies splatter—
like failed chocolate mousse.
rotting berries:
unpicked sweet blue.
tariffs make life
costlier x two.
chainsawing bands.
his gilded-life box
& orange brain of rocks.
Sharpie squiggles—weaponized hose
in tiny-man hand.
tariffs make us
march alone in the band.
Glenda Funk
4-3-25
……..
From the book:
Kitchen clatter.
Milk and juice.
Syrup splatter.
Chocolate mousse.
Bowl of berries—
red and blue
A mess can make
a meal for two.
Spot on topic for today! This line is so clever: “costlier x two” – there are two that are going out of the way to make things costlier, and one owns X… Crazy times, Glenda, crazy times. I’m not familiar with that picture book – loved the rhyming beat.
Ahh, Glenda — You know I love this. We’re absolutely on the same page today. I love the rhythm of your poem, it demands an out-loud rendition…I’ve read it 3 times already. LOL! My fave…”orange brain of rocks”…for sure! The “chainsawing” is apt and perfect. Dang, I’m glad you’re here! Hugs, Susie. PS…are you marching up there on Saturday? My niece is.
Glenda, you’ve captured the horror of today’s stock market! I loved your descriptions: “in tiny-man hand” “orange brain of rocks” “cha-chinging juice” “his gilded-life box” and “costlier x two”. Yes, what a mess! The lyrical aspects add a timely beat but the march alone at the end strikes hard. Thanks for sharing the rhyme you borrowed, too. The children’s book looks very fun! Your craft is always amazing. Thank you!
Oh, yes, that “stock market clatter” is sure being felt around the world. The two “tariffs make…” sections are speaking truth. Costly and isolating. Why can we never learn from history.
Glenda, your poem is so resonant today. It seems that the “orange brainiac” has a life-long goal to destroy this country and take down the world–all in one presidential term. I like how you turned the rhymes from children’s book to serve your message. Your use of metaphoric phrases is skillful and witty: “cha-chinging juice,” “orange brain of rocks,” and “weaponized hose.”
Sharpie squiggles—weaponized hose
in tiny-man hand.
Those words! I love that you used a picture book to capture and reframe the nightmare of our current politics. Might need to try that book out with my students!
This was a challenge, Denise! Thank you for this.
I took a little slice of rhyme from Mr. Tambourine Man, by Bob Dylan…I’m not excited by my results, lol.
wandering, meandering mind
imagines a collaborative time
all of us together, no one leaves
what if we sat amongst the trees
or studied the eroding beach
we’d cry together, share our sorrow
holding hands high to the sky
dreaming of a world truly free
would we soothe the turbulent sea
slow the ever shifting sands
would choosing love change our fate
help us all to roll with the waves
and seek a lasting tomorrow
Maureen,
This reminded me of “Dover Beach.” I think sitting on the beach, even as it erodes, with someone we love makes everything about life better. You’ve sprinkled alliteration throughout (meandering mind/sharing sorrows/holding hands) which is very satisfying to my ear. I simply love the beach imagery.
Maureen — there is something soothing about these ponderings…the sense of community will surely be the way through “the ever shifting sands.” I love that you end with a “lasting tomorrow”… I’m glad you are here. Susie
Maureen, your poem is compelling and full of high emotion. I love how you incorporated the place with the message. I loved “would choosing love change our fate/help us all to roll with the waves”. I feel such an overwhelming sense of doom and the way those waves could pull us all under. Phenomenal poem!
First, I love the phrase “slice of rhyme.”
Second, I absolutely adored the melody found in your opening lines: “wandering, meandering mind…all of us together, no one leaves/what if we sat amongst the trees.” Especially with the clever word play happening there!
The first four lines sound so beautiful and peaceful. I hope minds can find their way to the trees to “seek a lasting tomorrow.”
Oh, Maureen, you are a pro. You aren’t excited about the results here, but we are.
The message here about protecting the earth is so valuable, with all the sweet activities that would make a difference. I also love the collaboration, the holding hands, the dreaming, choosing love and more. So beautiful!
Whoa! Denise, you knocked my socks off with this one! The interplay between languages moves so smoothly, and it begs to be read aloud. I was also surprised (maybe disappointed in myself?) that I wasn’t able to identify your source. There goes my S&G fan credibility…
I really did want to come up with something deep and pithy. Clever, however, butted in line and stole Pithy’s number at the deli counter. So…here it is:
Ode to False Spring
Spring is here, the weather is fair
And many Chicagoans claim
That sandals and shorts are ready to wear
(Though I really could not say the same)
For each April morning, I lazily lay,
The sky through my window still black;
I think, I could better leap into the day
If only the sunlight came back.
Instead I will stretch, I will yawn and I’ll sigh
Pondering the day to come hence;
To dress warm? Dress cold? (Between you and I,
It’s not gonna make any difference.)
Inspiration from Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken”
That last stanza . . . I literally stood in front of my hall closet before walking the dog, trying to figure out which weight of coat to wear. For me and for the dog.
“Clever, however, butted in line and stole Pithy’s number at the deli counter. ” – hahaha loved that. Your poem is really fun. I, too, loathe the getting out the door before the sunrise, and I love how you say
There is something so playful, almost ‘hide and seek’ about that leap /coming back…made me smile.
Lainie,
Great title. We have false spring, too. It looks lovely through the window but requires jacket and sweatshirt for comfort. It’s as though two springs converged and went their separate ways! Alliteration is my jam, so “lazily lay” speaks to me. “Stretch, yawn, and sigh” are my mood, too. Perfect action words to express inaction.
Lainie, I love your title and can totally relate to the false spring we are experiencing. Sometimes the sun is out but then it’s cool anyway, etc. I felt completely pulled into your scene of lying in the morning in the dark, considering what to wear. Let’s home some better spring days are ahead:)
Lainie, so fun! I loved that sweet line in your intro about stealing the number at the deli counter. So funny! I’ve noticed a lot of false spring references in poem this week (and at my house) so I can appreciate this! The sound of these lines are wonderful. The images too. I’m seeing it and feeling it:
I love the fun sentiments of the struggles to dress for spring–even where I live in so-called sunny San Diego the decisions feel mind numbing. I love the playfulness of this–it feels very Jack Prelutsky-ish!
Poem the first
Birthday just a week away, everything
comes into focus. Spring
reminds me, my youth
may be vanishing but my truth
keeps me young. Finding ways to play,
enjoying this life, sends aging astray.
Poem the Second
Everything from this life
spring(s) new adventures.
Youth may be my past, that’s unavoidable
truth, but who’s to say days of
play are done? Grab the reins! Set
astray those thoughts of age.
I’m back! Turning my search to Hip Hop Speaks to Children edited by Nikki Giovanni, I found Everything is Everything by Lauren Hill. The poem is a little different from the song; there’s an intro for the song not included in the poem. I took my rhyme words from the first stanza: everything, spring, youth, truth, play, astray. Then, inspired by Emily, I wrote two poems — first with the rhyme at the end and second with the rhyme at the front.
“my youth/ may be vanishing but my truth/ keeps me young”– I love those lines!
Love this, Jennifer: “ my youth
may be vanishing but my truth
keeps me young.” I’m in agreement with the others!
Oh, wow! What a clever twist on the prompt. Bravo to “my truth/keeps me young.” (and Happy Birthday)…I love the thematic connection of the two poems, and the emphasis on not being too focus on aging, but instead – play, enjoy, “Grab the reins!”
Yes, I’m so glad you came back with two beautiful birthday poems. Each so different. Well-played, Jennifer. Yes, to staying young at heart through play and writing poetry! I like the off-beat rhymes in “Poem the Second.” Nice job with enjambment. “Set / astray those thoughts of age.” Some beautiful sounds in that section.
Denise, I loved this challenge and followed your advice of not allowing the original to get in the way of something new. I love your lines, “I think of Spanish while I’m sleeping / You challenge my brain.” Thank you for bringing a task to us that I most definitely will use with teachers and students. I chose to follow the rhyme scheme of a mentor, Ruth Stone. She changed my way of thinking forever.
I’m a Gorilla, Too.
There I was watching Three’s Company when I should have gone to bed,
thinking of Miss Twiggley’s Tree, her dogs, & the eccentricity
of shadows. Such women dance across the papered, yellow wall,
(baronesses, Von Trapps, Marias, & their sound of music…do-re-me),
Thelma & Louise looking for Bertha, without throwing Brad Pitt some shade.
I’m in need of a haircut. Love my barber. Jerry’s great with the fade,
and I’m wondering about Adolescence, the damage of boys feeling indestructible,
“Off with their heads.” The Queen’ dealing her clubs, diamonds, & spade.
Octavia Butler. Simone de Beauvoir, & Audre Lorde visit the moonlight overhead.
I can’t sleep with such ape-like reflections, the way misogyny has spread
like tapestry. But I remain under covers, wrapped in doubtful shroud,
the braiding of Barbicans, London, feminist workshops, screenings & new suns,
knowing I was raised by Daisy Dukes, Benny Hills, & Chrissy. Sexism, still not dead.
Bryan, all of the references really made this pop — and made it relevant and relatable.
The title is perfect. I cannot help but be transported to the musings of Ivan in the book I am currently reading to my children The One and Only Ivan. Your thoughtfulness (lessness?) is reminiscent of what Ivan is feeling but cannot articulate, for he is actually a gorilla. Every time I reread my mind lands on a different allusion. I particularly like the yellow-wallpaper. Thank you for sharing. I hope restful sleep finds you.
Love the fabric metaphors here – “the way misogyny has spread/like tapestry. But I remain under covers, wrapped in doubtful shroud,” and I appreciate the wrestling you do in this poem – wrestling with misogyny, male privilege, upbringing, more. There is something so dreamy about “Octavia Butler. Simone de Beauvoir, & Audre Lorde visit the moonlight overhead.” – I hear a yearning for that moonlight.
Bryan, It sounds like this could be a tribute to your mentor, Ruth Stone. It is always great to read such a reflective piece about sexism and misogyny from a man’s perspective. I appreciate the smiles throughout and the references to some of the people, shows and cultural phenomena that have shaped your views.
Impressive list of allusions.
The end made me smile:
I think the hardest part of this prompt was finding a rhyming poem to work from. . .
Stopping grading on a busy evening (Robert Frost, my apologies . . .)
It’s April. The semester’s end is only a month away, I know
And lots to grade. Sigh. Though
I really want to enjoy this sport here
on the couch. It’s nice to look out the window and not see snow.
The timing of spring this year feels queer
And yet when I see green buds, I know it’s near.
Soon it will be time for trail runs around the lake,
Something I look forward to all year.
–Sigh. Back to grading . . .
My restless greyhound gives his body a shake
and looks at me to be sure his inner food clock did not make a mistake.
His whippy tale across my legs does a sweep (ow!)
I look out the window: not a single flake (whew!)
My stack of grading is deep
and a balanced schedule I hope to keep.
But I have books to read before I sleep.
And all the pets in my house say “sleep.”
This is excellent. You did such a good job turning a winter poem into a totally different springtime grading poem. I love it but kind of don’t. (Boo grading, haha!!)
Haha, this was great! Too clever.
Love your bringing in the energy of your greyhound. And also “books to read before I sleep.” I think Frost would have enjoyed it too.
The break between the two halves of your poem is so marvelous:
“–Sigh. Back to grading . . .” I am smiling! This is such a fun twist on the Robert Frost poem.
Sheila, I like how you refer to some of the activities that make for “a balanced schedule”–watching sports, trail runs, enjoying your dog. Grading keeps getting in the way. At least spring is near! That last stanza is a great mirror of Frost’s. I smiled at “my apologies” in the introduction.
Thanks Denise for this clever prompt. And a toast to your creativity! Sounds of Silence is one of my favorite S&G songs but I didn’t even realize it at first. I love that you are thinking of Spanish while you are sleeping. A true tribute to you and your friend!
Mish-Mash of Borrowed Mother Goose Rhymes for our Times
Across the sea, behind the hill
She searched scorched land for water.
She dreamed of pillows soft as down,
a pink tiara on her crown,
a life of happy-every after.
I shall wear the finest shoe
and sip honeyed tea with naught to do,
I’ll spread sweet jam upon my bread
and dance until it’s time for bed.
alas she tripped upon a tuffet
of tangled grass and weed…
Though that night
the stars shone bright
and though she wished with all her might,
there was none to help the thirsty child survive the stone-cold night.
But a king sitting on his mighty wall,
saw the barefoot child fall,
Brush her away, he told his men
and fill my goblet once again.
(Jack & Jill, Mother Hubbard, Starlight/Starbright, Humpty Dumpty, with the briefest nod to Little Miss Muffett)
Oof. Ann this was great — so atmospheric that I could just picture all of it. Timely sentiments.
Wow! What a wonderful creative and timely response!
This is absolutely delightful – both playful and serious. That cold ending,
Wow.
Ann, wow, so much to love here. The rhythm and rhyme are perfect. The injustice and heartbreak is too much. The king seeing “the barefoot child fall” is such a great picture of what is happening. And those last two lines…oh, my goodness. Thank you for writing this.
Hi Denise, your prompt and poem inspired me to try to use Rhina P. Espaillat’s rhymes from “Bilingual/Bilingüe” and add in some Spanish too. It’s a rough version but thank you so much.
Grandma, are you there?
When I was young, I wasn’t aware
of things that could affect a heart
like never feeling fit in or a part
“Soy Mexicana, Angélica,” my name
You’d say it in Spanish; I didn’t care to claim
If I had, maybe I’d feel complete inside
instead of this existence, this /di•vide/.
If I had embraced where I’m from
maybe today I wouldn’t feel dumb.
What if I listened to you, let your words (em)bed
within me, let the Spanish (sp)read?
Why did I not care? Why did I run?
Why did I think better was only one?
There’s still time to learn but difficult when
English is all I teach and write with my pen
But if I never do, that will be my only fear
Escúchame, I wish you were aquí~here.
The tribute to your Grandma and your heritage is wonderful. It shows how adulthood brings wisdom. Still time to learn and embrace it.
Love your calling out for your grandmother’s help and honoring what she faced when you were too young to be aware.
Angélica — Este poema es muy bueno. Me encanta la honestidad. Especialmente “Why did I think better was only one.” Estoy tratando de aprender español y me encanta muchisimo el idioma. Gracias por compartir eso. Susie
I love how you made /di.vide/ with the split in the middle and did the parentheses for effect. Using questions is so powerful here too. And dialogue. You have it all today, friend, and it works beautifully.
Angie, I love this so much. Your sweet grandma. She is proud of you from above. I love so much what you did with the end words /di•vide/, (em)bed, (sp)read. That last night tugs my heart so much. The rhymes with fear/here and the direct address to your grandma is precious.
First, Es bueno tener una abuela a la que respetes. While living in San Diego, I learned some Spanglish. Your abuela will be proud to know that you’re coming to acknowledge and appreciate your heritage. As another woman of color, I understand. Some BiPOC can hide that heritage, some us cannot, so we are delighted that more folks are beginning to accept our differences.
Go ahead and learn, . el idioma español. That’s another way to honor her.
A Peck of Gold
By Mo Daley 4/3/25
As I wandered, thinking, around the town
I considered what’s happen if it all came down
Could I believe what I’d been told?
What would I do for a pot of gold?
I started the day with emotions high
Feeling as if I could walk in the sky
Then I collapsed when I was told…
What would I do for a pot of gold?
If today was the day I’d go to Heaven’s Gate
Would it really matter what I’ve drunk and ate?
I tried to follow the rules I’d been told
What would I do for a pot of gold?
*Rhymes from “A Peck of Gold” by Robert Frost
Ooh! I love how you’ve flipped the refrain to comment on our society’s obsession with wealth!
Oh, Mo… this is provocative and important. A questions for the ages: “what would I do for a pot of gold?” I’ve wondered what a lot of people would do for a pot of gold…I’m always amazed by the answers. And even more amazed at the actions in the name of that pot of gold. Love this! Susie
I really liked your poem! Definitely a poem that makes a person reflect on their own day/life.
Mo, I really appreciate your poem’s questions. It’s provocative and leaves one wondering if gold could solve any of our problems. I especially liked “I tried to follow the rules I’d been told”. Great title too!
Mo, what a great question for all of us to ask: “What would I do for a pot of gold? I read Frost’s “A Peck of Gold” poem. It was interesting how very different you made it using the same rhyming words.
Mo,
“What would I do for a pot of gold?” indeed. I suspect you wouldn’t do things that hurt others or try to get more, more, more. There’s an incongruity in your poem’s listing cadence and serious subject that always appeals to me. It creates tension and irony, to of my favorite things.
Denise,
Thank you for this prompt. It’s a great one. I’m not sure why but these lines of yours made me think of Bob Dylan’s Tamborine Man —My skills are slowly creeping, I think of Spanish while I’m sleeping-– I love that image.
After recently watching the Bob Dylan movie, I’ve been a little obsessed with his lyrics. Haha. I tried my hand at using almost the same amount of rhyming he uses in Mr. Tambourine Man (A lot of lyrics!) and it came out more like a song. Maybe I’ll hand these words over to my musician son and let him work with them.
Escape
When life’s a rocky Ship
All my feelings Stripped
My hands they long to Grip
The lifeline as I Step
To the sailboat of my Wandering
If I could simply Fade
Beyond horizon’s Parade
Slide toward the slipping Sun
And take just Anyone
Along with me to Run
On the bow, my body Facing
To sing the ocean’s Rhyme
Along the tides of Time
All cares I’d leave Behind
Not bogging down my Mind
And nothing Chasing
I wonder who would Mind
I’d come back in tattered Time
When Fall lets down it’s Leaves
Back to the towering Trees
Back to a billowed Beach
And back to Sorrow
There will always be the Sky
To set me Free
When I look out to the Sea
Beneath my feet the Sands
And let it all to Fate
Dive through the wispy Waves
Of time. There’s still Tomorrow.
Thank you, Bob Dylan, Mr. Tambourine Man, and Denise!
Especially loved the start of the third stanza –
To sing the ocean’s Rhyme
Along the tides of Time
All cares I’d leave Behind
Emily, brava! This is lovely. Some very haunting lines for me are:
I think it would be great to hand this over to your son for some music.
The Protest
There are no two people alike.
We are diverse here.
Lack of equality causes a strike
an uprising for rights is near.
Treat people kindly is what you do.
Loving my neighbors and they honor me.
Together we strive to see hardship through
and fight every trouble we see.
Some of your courage I hope to borrow
avoiding to act like a mouse.
Help me in the protest tomorrow
and with peace make it back to our house.
end rhymes from “Ashes of Life” by Edna St. Vincent MIllay
I neglected to thank Leilya for her prompt yesterday and today I thank Denise. I love these prompts and writing with you. It gives me a motive for reading more poetry. Thanks… Today I am thinking of the protests happening on April 5th all over the country.
Thank you, Susan, for your courage in standing up.
Leilya, hooray for you going to the protest tomorrow. We need to keep standing up against authoritarianism and all the nonsense. I like the last stanza. It’s like a prayer.
Susan, I personally appreciate the ways you have always stood up for others…in word and deed! And I admire your creativity in word and beads. Your collages and paintings evoke such emotion, as do your poems. Keep up the good work and deeds. Hugs, from a long time friend.
Hugs, back to you, Anna. Thank you for your encouragement.
I picked the song “Dear Theodosia” from Hamilton, which has been ringing through my mind off and on ever since I had my first son last year.
Dear Jay
my resolve falls undone
staring down at my son, my first son
naps are just a thing we’re trying for
but you want to play peekaboo with me now
through the curtains, a line of sun
calls out to me and my son
must this cribtime keep us apart?
staying on a schedule would be smart
But I want you around (you want me around)
some time with just me and you.
We don’t have unending takes, it would be a mistake
to miss out on this time with you.
Someday you’ll chase your own way
someday, someday
but I think I’ll hold you today
I’ll stay, I’ll stay.
This made me cry. I’m so glad you feel this way about your little Jay. I was just telling my husband last night how I wish my twenty year old was three again! He was just the sweetest, cutest three year old and age twenty can be tough sometimes for a mother–still wanting to parent but not really able to. I LOVED and cherished all those moments. (So much so that I homeschooled all my kids until High School. Haha!) Enjoy. I keep re-reading your last stanza. It’s so beautiful.
Oh I love this! I well remember this time…I remember writing a similar lullaby…the days pass so quickly…your last lines made me cry…this is simply lovely!
This is so beautiful, Rachel. I love the image of the sun calling to you and your son. Also “must this cribtime keep us apart?”
This is a beautiful poem! It makes you take a step back, and remember the importance of every little moment in life.
Oh, Rachel, what a sweet ode to Jay. I love all the times you say “my son” in your poem. And that last stanza. So much longing and anticipated loss, joy and hope. Beautiful poem.
Ah, Rachel! How such cleverly laid out words can evoke tears from readers is amazing. All too soon, he’ll be chasing his way, but rest assured he, too, will long for times with just you, too and even startle with a boo, then a hug! Thanks for the memories.
Executive Orders
Executive is just a step away from
execute and that reminds me of
T.S. Eliot’s “The Hollow Men”:
This is the way climate change ends
This is the way health care ends
This is the way public education ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a trump.
________________________________________________
Denise, thank you for your mentor poems and your prompt today! I love the line, “My skills are slowly creeping / I think of Spanish while I’m sleeping” because, they say, dreaming in the language is one of the keys to acquisition! My offering didn’t quite follow the rules of your prompt, but your prompt definitely led to its creation, so there’s that, lol.
Scott, I see you chose to write a horror poem today. Haha. The last line! Bam! Very clever and ominous too.
Scott, wow. The title “The Hollow Men” is a perfect one from which to take inspiration. Your poem makes me so sad and worried about the implied execution of meeting climate change, obtaining health care, and supporting public education. “This is the way…” feels hopeless, just like T.S. Eliot’s poem. But art and truth will win. Thanks for writing this.
I, too, will probably go with a more somber theme for a poem as I’m feeling that dread you express so well in the poem. Like Denise, I think the reference to “The Hollow Men” is spot on. Thank you for expressing what many of us are feeling.
Scott,
Clever last two lines. You know I’m always up for an anti-orange cheeto man poem. Your poem is as apocalyptic as “The Hollow Men.” Sure feels like they’re the ones ruling the world.
OMGosh, this is priceless, Scott. Truly…the opening 2 lines grabbed me right off and then the echo of TSE…whoof..perfect poem…damned perfect. Love your poems, Susie
Thank you for this prompt. I wasn’t sure how I would like it, but it definitely helped to extract a poem out of me today. Workshops are so fun! I’m glad we get to be a little part of that through you.
Here is my poem…using the end words of some stanzas of the song “Yellow” by Coldplay.
Knit Star Guide
A guide of the knit stars–
plucked and chosen just for you
and the yarnie things you do
in gray, blue, and even yellow.
We loop and loop, then turn
the needles and yarn until the project is done
in black and white, and even yellow.
Fiberart surfaces from the marrow of bones
The people: they say, “It’s beautiful!”
But only after you soak, block, and dry.
Do you weave in ends before or after it is dry?
A guide of the knit stars–
plucked and chosen just for you
and the yarnie things you do.
I love how your poem could be song lyrics too. “All the yarnie things you do.” That is clever and brings a good image of having fun knitting with friends.
Oh, Amber, what a lovely refrain that begins and ends your yarnie poem. I smiled twice at “even yellow.” I loved learning more about your fiberart here. “Fiberart surfaces from the marrow of bones” makes me feel the importance and commitment of this craft to the creator.
I love the refrain of “and the yarnie things you do”– now I wish I could drop everything and knit. . .
What a fun prompt! Here is my poem, written with the rhymes from Emily Dickinson’s Tell all the Truth but tell it Slant.
Snowflakes creeping into spring
The blossoms must be lies
Too cold for spring break’s sunny days
How dare I feel surprise
as winter grasps her icy claws
To bud and bloom in kind
The frost will hold tenaciously
And daffodils are blind.
Revised slightly.
Snowflakes creeping into spring
The blossoms must be lies
Too cold for spring break’s sunny days
How dare I feel surprise
as winter twines her icy claws
Round bud and bloom in kind
The frost will hold tenaciously
And daffodils are blind.
Kelley, I like the revisions. I see the personification of winter and frost trying to squeeze out the living. However, as always, we do know spring is going to win!
The imagery and tone in this are something I can relate, too, right now. I’m feeling a little bitter against winter right now. This poem is something fun in the meantime while we wait blindly like the daffodils. Thank you so much for sharing this poem! It might not be “fixing” the weather, but it is warming my heart.
Kelley, oh, my gosh, I love this. The perfection in the sounds and rhythm of each line. The images like “icy claws” and “daffodils are blind” Wow! So much truth too. The early spring yo-yo of nature. You have captured it so well. Thank you for this fun read today.
This is a beautiful poem! I really like how it can be interpreted in different ways based on a person and how they connect with it!
Sometimes I dream
of a foreign land,
donkeys and a cottage of stone
on barren, wormless sand.
You show me your frown.
Peaceful life is my command.
Peace, daughter.
Shelley’s Ozymandias!!!
Hi Prof!
I am particularly fond how the title plays into the rest of the poem here. I can feel that barren, wormless sand under my bare feet. The sensory language has captivated me here. And I like the command of a peaceful life. How interesting to think of life in that way. A command to make it peaceful…that is somehow refreshing and seems a little easier put that way.
Ephraim, you have created such images with the “donkeys and a cottage of stone” and “barren, wormless sand” I like the dreaming of this and of peace. Like Amber said, I appreciate the line “Peaceful life is my command.” It makes me feel one has some agency in the life we choose.
Hi, Ephraim! Like the others, I love the evocative imagery, especially the “barren, wordless sand.” Heck, I love those donkeys and the cottage, too. And those first lines feel good to read aloud—nice flow. I find myself worrying that the peace won’t last given the barren soil…but I love getting to spend a moment in this place quieter than my own…
Denise,
Thank you for this prompt; I thought it would be an easy(ier) one, but I’m failing to find a poem or song lyrics with a rhyme scheme. So, while I continue that search, I am sharing a Haiku I wrote earlier — I’m joining Liz Garton Scanlon in her #30daysofhaiku journey.
Haiku 1
April 3, 2025
Thunderstorm’s over
Birds singing, Sun is shining
Springtime, my favorite.
Jennifer,
I relate to this. We just had a storm over and now the birds are singing and the sun shining and it is a happy day!
I was writing haiku’s yesterday with my class. We are reading Brown Girl Dreaming and writing a series of haiku’s with one theme like Jacqueline Woodson does in her novel. I’ll have to look into Liz Garton Scanlon’s haiku journey. I really like her!
Thanks Emily! Next up on my middle grade reading list is Liz’s book Lolo’s Light. I recently learned Liz is my friend’s cousin.
What a nice idea to write a haiku a day in April. It’s like a beautiful journal of your days. Enjoy the birds and sunshine! I’ll look forward to another poem if you get the chance today.
Jennifer, I love that the whole of your poem is about your favorite “Springtime,” the storm has passed and the “[b]irds [were] singing, [and the] [s]un [was] shining.” Beautiful!
I used the rhymes from “Nothing Gold Can Stay” by Robert Frost. I also put the rhymes as the first word of each line instead of putting them at the end.
Gold ripples on the water. Aspens
hold sunlight in their hands. Dew kisses a wild-
flower. An
hour walk among nature cathedrals. A
leaf floats downstream, sending my
grief to Heaven. A
day of serenity lifts my heart. I long to
stay and heal.
This is a beautiful poem! I like your use of the rhyme words at the front of each line; once I find my rhymes, I think I’ll try using them as both the last word and the first word— in two different poems. Thank you for the idea.
I like how you telescoped the rhyme to the first words from Frost’s last words. Very clever. A nice poem too.
Melissa, that is gorgeous. I like the syncopation (is that the word I’m looking for?) of the poem as read with the rhymes at the beginning. Your enjambment helps the rhymes to still be heard, but it’s a little off beat. Some of the beautiful images I’m in love with today: “walk among nature cathedrals” and “Dew kisses a wildflower.” Here’s to healing in all its difficult beauty.
Wow, thank you for sharing this. So beautiful. I’m impressed with how you made Frost’s poem new again, and personal. I love all the concrete images: the aspens, the wildflowers, the cathedrals, the floating leaf.
How Ambition Feels
First, there is a rising sole,
and then it’s a tempesta.
Hail, winds; a ravaging festa
suffocates air that lifts sole.
A relentless wish to be seen, ne.
Stepping stones stolen by te.
Wave crashing, consuming mio
until surrender, fate unfolding to te.
____________________
O Sole Mio (My Own Sunshine) Luciano Pavarotti and Bryan Adams (Enjoy!)
Che bella cosa, na jurnata’e’sole
N’aria serena doppo na tempesta
Pe’ll’aria fresca pare gia’ na festa
Che bella cosa na jurnata’e sole
Ma n’atu sole cchiu’ bello, oi ne’
‘O sole mio sta nfronte a te
‘O sole o sole mio
Sta nfronte a te sta nfronte a te
Oooohhhh! What a wonderful way to use another language in poetry. I have many songs I listen to in Russian, Spanish, and French. Thank you for sharing this.
I am also drawn to your line “A relentless wish to be seen, ne.” because it seems so deep and powerful, but submissive all the same.
Sarah, this is one of those compelling titles that speak volumes, and then your beautiful poem laced with the rhymes of Pavarotti’s Italian. I love this idea, and it makes me want to find a poem in another language and do what you did here.
The seeming contradictory qualities in these phrases “ravaging festa” and “suffocates air that lifts sole” really show the contradictory feelings one has about ambition.
Sarah — I love the language mix. As I am learning español, it is fun to see languages played out in our community here. Yea! The examination of ambition is a worthy idea and really complicated. I find myself trying to sing. :). Love, Susie
Sarah, commenting on my poem, Denise mentioned we both wrote about ambitions. I decided to read your and can say we have some common understanding of the destructive power of ambition. I see this in your final lines: “Wave crashing, consuming mio
until surrender, fate unfolding to te.”
The use of “O Sole Mio” rhymes is unexpectedly enticing. Thank you!
Denise, in honor of Shakespeare’s birthday and the fact that I used to have my freshman students memorize the “Prologue to Romeo and Juliet”, I decided to use the rhymes from that sonnet to fuel my writing. Wow! One assignment also had been put this speech into a contemporary setting. Well, this is what came out today. The Bard’s words are bolded.
Life, Not Strife
Strolling into the room, clothed in dignity,
My eyes scanning the crowd, assessing the scene,
Wondering whether the teens would mutiny.
Could they comprehend why their plan was unclean?
“But teacher,” they counter, “they’re our foes
The laws they passed are causing us strife
We must organize, act and cause overthrows
Our actions will help others improve their life.”
“I know, dear students, but we must choose love.
Hate just multiplies when we act with rage.
Let’s work together. Let’s groove to remove
The harm from our plan at this stage.
“Consider why they might feel that way. Let’s attend
To common issues that can clear up and mend.”
Anna, great tribute to Shakespeare during his birthday month! Yes and yes, here’s to nonviolent resistance. The line “I know, dear students, but we must choose love” is so foundational.
I dearly love Shakespearean sonnets. You did an admirable job with the four quatrains and the couplet. It’s fine that it isn’t iambic, since you are making a beautiful case for what happens to us as English teachers, and the message is far more important than the meter.
A great message today for me as I contemplate joining the crowd to protest on Saturday. Yes, we must choose love. I hope that prevails.
Boxer’s Mutiny
From my own skin,
Where shall I begin,
Fortunately, Unfair,
Crimsoned with flair?
Or over Fluttering kisses,
Where All of Them, wishes.
Deep in the tale of Brew,
Awakening only a few.
As Pressure Hands cup a Feathered Heart,
spilling my
Death of ink from the start.
Among the Estates of Bo Creek,
Where Random Circles tend to meet.
Buttered Frogs and Jelly toads,
Mystic Wisdom sitting on a dirt road.
Conscious Fray and Creatures of Chance,
Circling the Vultures with an unknown dance.
Hummingbird Whispers with Unforgotten Clover,
hiding
Scutes not yet read over.
Motivating a Mountain Lion in his soul,
An Ordained Chinbone never grows old,
with
A Trailing Curse and a Flesh Mirror,
Their time is forever,
mine grows nearer.
All this randomness condenses like dirt,
Upon the Willows, I will still work.
The treasure being the race,
Like,
Chase Twine’s Muscadine Race.
My thoughts for this are not my reason,
A curse for creating unworthy teasing.
Dismantled from social pleasing,
My thoughts for this are like the seasons.
Yet,
The urge of the mountain, listens to the crow,
For the inner sparrow kindly knows,
Sara’s Lullaby is a generational grow.
And none of this would exist,
without the release of a Flutter’s Kiss.
Upon the pages I kindly stare,
My mind will be here, As I venture there,
my voice will be clear, left to dare
My words repeated, flat, and rare,
My wishbones crumble to dust in the air,
For death is most fortunately, unfair.
-Boxer
Boxer, so much to love here about your Mutiny. I like the “fortunately, unfair” at the beginning and then coming back to it at the end. I have a couple of places where I read and re-read, so enjoying the sounds of your rhymes and rhythms. I was reminded of Sara Bareilles’ “Once Upon Another Time” here:
I also love the last full stanza with such amazing images like, “My wishbones crumble to dust in the air”
I am not quite sure I understand, and yet, I am positive that does not really matter. My favorite line is buttered frogs/jelly toads. There is something tactile and whimsical in these lines and throughout the poem. I also keep coming back to the capitalization. Thank you for your unique perspective, rhythm, and point of view.
The capitalization represents the books I published or self- published. Fortunately, Unfair is the title of one of my books. Thank you
When I consider how my day is spent,
hours that at first feel wide
behind emails, bills, and grading hide
while my heart toward verse and light is bent.
-Rhymes and much of the first line courtesy of John Milton’s “When I Consider How My Light is Spent”
Oh, Kate, yes! “Hours at first feel wide” is a beautiful way to describe the hope and potential of a new day, but then the overwhelmingness of life’s busyness comes in. That last line–so good and true. I’m delighted that you listened to your heart and made room to be here today. I love that so much.
Wow! I am totally with you on the “hours that feel wide.” The busywork is like a great wall that blocks out the light, which you have aptly placed next to “verse.” It’s “verse and light,” not “verse at home” or “verse in the office.”
Oh man! I feel this poem every day. I am making sure that my heart is filled everyday with some poetry instead of all of the other things that weigh me down. I love your last line.
I can so relate to this.
Let’s talk history
And while we are at it let’s call it lies.
Let me give you the dirt–
The grit of reality–you weren’t meant to rise.
Did you think yourself superior? Who, you?
Does it make it easier to not feel the gloom?
Are we not cowards dumbly sitting in the chatroom?
Thoreau spoke of suns,
Maya of cleansing tides,
Hitler of Nazis reigning on high,
Trump of white supremacy, finally on the rise.
Are we close enough to being broken?
Do we believe what we see with our eyes?
Do we lick away our teardrops,
And cover our ears to so many cries?
Do you think yourself superior? Who, you?
Have you really tried that hard?
All your words are just words,
And your dry eyes just eyes,
Your hate is hatefulness,
And your guilt is on the rise.
Do you think yourself superior? Who, you?
You were never meant to rise.
Borrowed rhymes from Maya Angelou’s “Still I Rise”
Wow, Kasey, so stark and powerful. Thank you for this. It makes us really think. I like “You were never meant to rise” because it has a variety of ways to consider. I love the opening line too: “Let’s talk history” because even saying that these days is a powerful act of resistance.
Wow. This is so powerful, as powerful as Maya’s poem. I love your opening, so conversational and then you just let loose…almost as if you were taking notes why I spouted at my TV.
Whoa whoa whoa!! Great poem filled with excellent statements of truth and questions in the midst of all these lies and just ridiculousness! Thanks for sharing!
Got my mind going, Denise! I just taught a 5th grade class on haiku. I sat down for a break and took the rhymes from Joyce Kilmer’s Trees.
Trees
Oh, the green – come and see!
Spring has returned the budding trees.
Yellow, pink, and purple pressed,
Sparrows, jay, robin red-breast;
Take delight in this spring day,
Spring returns we hope and pray;
All the blooming plants to wear
Butterflies and bees upon their hair;
Upon new leaves they have lain;
Come the soft and gentle rain.
Poems are made by poets me,
But only God can make a tree.
Delightful, Joanne. You kept the same title, and you took the trees in different directions. I especially like “robin red-breast” and “Upon new leaves they have lain” I also loved the continuation of our spring poems from yesterday, with the rich spring images here. The last line kept it the same as Kilmer’s, adds to the truth of it.
These days have been hard for me. My dad died 2 weeks ago and my mother-in-law 6 weeks before that. Am I making myself write poems – so thank you, but responding to others is so hard. I am now overwhelmed with things to do and things to put away – exhausting. I know you will understand.
Peace to you, Joanne. I’m so glad you are here. Of course, everyone will understand. Just keep writing. We know the healing power of poetry, right? My condolences to you, friend.
I love a poem that begins with an invitation! Thanks for inviting me to see the “yellow, pink, and purple pressed” today.
Joanne,
I am reading your poem as I look outside my rain-soaked window. You have invited me to see the trees drinking up this rain and the leaves greening before my eyes. Look what your poetry can do? Yes, you, the poet, bring me to meet the creations in our world to see them a new in just this moment.
How wonderful,
Sarah
I am in awe of the new green, colors, and birds in Spring. It is a joy to read this poem and really like how you used Kilmer’s “only God can make a tree.”
Denise,
Thank you for hosting and inspiring us today.
These lines were my favorite:
They make me think about how learning a new language changes our brain, seeping into our dreams and how the small kindnesses of a friend ripple through our world.
I sought rhyming mentoring from my favorite poet, Wislawa Szymborska. She doesn’t usually rhyme so I was surprised to find one of poems that did: Nothing Twice. I don’t know any Polish, but I like seeing her original words and rhymes.
———————————————————————————————————–
Nothing Twice
after Wislawa Szymborska
you’re on the tip of my tongue
your absence not an accident
communication’s paths far flung
soaked in Texas Mountain Laurel’s scent
Sharon,
Wow, your poem stirs up emotions and the sadness of the absence, and the memories of a different relationship. I’m intrigued with the title too. I love the specificity of the scent in the last line. Anyone who has smelled it would know. (Not that I have, but I’ve smelled the creosote in a gentle rain, and anyone who has would know what I meant.)
Thank you for the link to Szymborska’s poem. The Polish is interesting to see.
I love the sound of the first two lines (tip…tongue, absence… accident). I love that I don’t know exactly who “you” is but feel a whole arc of story all the same. I love the specificity of “Texas Mountain Laurel’s scent.”
Sharon,
I love this scent and senses of place in this quatrain. That word “soaked” really got me.
Sarah
Sharon — Ooo, this is so sensory!! I love W. Szymborska…well done! I think now I need some “Texas Mountain Laurel,” just for the whiff of it. Susie
Denise,
I really love this poetry “hack” and I actually used it in class today!
I looked at a few poems and a handful of favorite songs and I landed on “And So It Goes by Billy Joel. I wrote it during class today, modeling the process for them. Pending retirement is starting to sink in.
And So It Goes
I look around this box of a room
and my emotions start to get strong
my mind goes to memories of the past
and the many students I carry along
teenagers with voices of varied tones
most putting up quite a pretense
vulnerable moments didn’t happen much
the need to fit in their main defense
instead of always looking for the rose
I tried to always make one from the thorns
and so it goes, and so it goes
and so will I soon, I suppose
at times I think I’m ready to leave
but others I think it’s a mistake
I will miss every single one of you
I’m starting to think my heart will break
the door on this part of my life will be closed
oh, the many things I have seen
and so it goes, and so it goes
and so will I soon, I suppose
I will miss every single one of you
but new rhythms I will have to make
different ways to fill my heart, too
I’m pretty sure my heart will break
and so it goes, and so it goes
how I will adapt, God only knows
~Susan Ahlbrand
3 April 2025
Oh, Susan, what a story. You wrote this beauty during class? I’m imagining the tears that came with it, especially as you got to this stanza:
The refrain:
And the adjusted final line are poignant and a little sad.
Thank you for sharing. Peace to you as you continue to process this transition into a new chapter.
Susan,
My 10 siblings and I were known to blast Billy Joel in the house and car (not all in the same car) screaming the words to these songs. What a lovely revisiting of those memories that your poem has sparked for me, your grateful reader.
Sarah
Tender, sweet, and a perfect homage to Billy Joel while showing your own pending retirement worries. Well done. I use Billy Joel’s Pianoman to teach limericks when I do a poetry unit.
Susan, how in the world did you write this in front of your students and not wind up a sobbing mess? This is beautiful and poignant.
Burnt Out
I want to go across the bay
And be outside during the day
I feel like I have lost the way
I’m not sure where to call home
I was raised in a little town
And decided I need to move down
I moved all around
And drowned in whiskey and wine
Everyone says I’m a smart girl
What an influential person I will be
But I just want to move to the small town on the sea
Rhymes from “Brandy, you’re a fine girl”
Oh, for a simple life by the sea! Such a strong sense of longing for identity and home here in your lines. Love the rework of that compelling song!
M.W., I love this. I didn’t recognize the song as I first read your poem, until I got to “I’m a smart girl / What an influential person I will be” Then I remembered the “Brandy” song. Your yearning for that “small town on the sea” is palpable. Thank you for sharing the passion and the angst of this longing for home and a fresh beginning in your poem this morning. It is moving.
This really speaks to me… When I moved from K-12 to grad school and college teaching, I often explained my decision with a version of “I want to…/…be outside during the day”!
M.W.,
Oh, what a lovely, contemplative poem. I hear the speaker being torn in this binary of “influence” and replacing the self — a wondering or wandering of who decides when or how one is lost or living their potential. I see all of these questions of who decides. Very powerful commentary in this poem (in my reading of it). Thank you.
Sarah
M.W. — This ought to be required reading for all educators at the start of every April. We understand this sooooooo much. Trust this, MW, you are among friends who get this. Hugs, Susie
Denise, this was so fun to play with this morning! Thank you for the inspiration! I went on a little mental journey this morning, finally settling on one of my favorite poems, “Jerusalem” by William Blake. This reminded me of where I first encountered this poem, which was as a song at the end of the film “Chariots of Fire.” This made me think of Eric Liddell, who gave up a chance at Olympic gold because of his religious convictions. His story made me think of another, much more recent example in our own country of one who chose to stand (literally, for many hours) for his convictions.
Making Good Trouble
How did you know it was your time?
In your mind’s eye, visions of the rich green
land of promises, facing destruction while God
looked on. You knew you had but one chance to be seen.
You reached within, and the Divine
met you there, your words sharing a journey up the hills
of challenge and pain, bringing us hope here
and now, even while some claim you’re tilting at mills
The powers slaver over promised gold,
but you manifest an eternal Desire.
As we listened to your words unfold,
you rekindled in us a latent fire
Julie, I loved reading your introduction and how you chose the rhyming words for this one. Then to see how you chose to honor Cory Booker’s good trouble. Your use of the words you were given to work with come beautifully into the topic. I love “tilting at mills” and the “visions of the rich green / land of promises”. The last stanza is my favorite. Brava, Julie.
Yes, Julie! I so admire your thoughts as you contemplated CB’s hours on the S floor. I love “…powers slaver…” and the hope of “rekindled.” Thank you, Susie
Aah, Denise — One of my favorite all-time songs, I still sing and play it all the time. That you’ve crafted such a delightful poem and spiked it with español es tan encantador. Llevo más de tres años, estudiando español con mis amigas aqui en St. Louis. Tambien Sueño con español a veces. Me encanta tu poema. Abrazos, Susie
Whoa, Denise – is this ever craftsmanship! Your poem is a beautiful labor of love, learning to speak the language of a friend. I was beginning to have dreams in French years ago when I studied it – I am told this shows the beginning of true fluency. I keep thinking I will brush up on it. As for the invitation to borrow a rhyme:I could play with this for days on end and so I had to keep it as simple as possible! Tonight my granddaughter is making her “stage debut” as Dorothy in her school’s production of The Wizard of Oz. What better to borrow than the lyrics of “Over the Rainbow,” to mark the occasion. Thank you for this today!
A One-Time Performer
to Her Nine-Year-Old Granddaughter
on Her Stage Debut
as Dorothy
in The Wizard of Oz
Hair, streaked rainbow
eyes sky-blue
you’re a long-ago dream
now come true
I wished upon a star
in a stage so far
behind me…
when the curtain drops
look to the balcony tops
and there you’ll find me…
glowing like a rainbow
watching you fly
—my love, we ARE the rainbow
one grand circle, you and I
*******
“Grand circle” is another term for “dress circle,” the first level of balconies in a theatre.
Fran — Frame this poem and give it to your sweet granddaughter with a pic of her rainbow hair. I LOVE that! ¡Poema dulca!
make that dulce
Good Morning, Fran! What a tribute. I love the way the words permanently stuck in my consciousness, come back like bells to salute the granddaughter. Wonderful.
Aww I love how you setup the title!! And the colors are so lovely. What a beautiful poem about you and your granddaughter
Oh, Franna, like Susie said, this should be framed for your sweet girl! I’m so happy for you and her! Hooray for the timing on this prompt. Thank you for the “grand circle” definition. I’m seeing the connection of the rainbow of you and the rainbow of her connecting to make that “one grand circle.” So very precious, every line of love here.
Thank you for always seeing every layer, Denise <3
Fran, what a beautiful gift this is to your granddaughter (and to you as the one grand circle). I initially scanned the last words looking for the song and loved discovering where the words fell within your poem–they were all the more magical. I felt transported!
Fran, what a beautiful way to wrap your arms around your granddaughter. I feel the love in – and behind – your words. I am sure she will appreciate these words of love
I’m tearing up just reading this! The grand circle of a whole rainbow encircling the two of you – – just beautiful! I so wanted to be Dorothy when I was her age – – it was my dream. But I was cast as a Green Girl in the Emerald City, and I can still remember every word and I’m humming it as I imagine her on the stage, you waving down from the balcony – – beaming with pride! She’s going to follow in your footsteps, Franna! This is a gorgeous tribute to mark the occasion. One grand circle!!!
Such a lovely tribute to your granddaughter on such an auspicious occasion! I love the Wizard of Oz and knowing Dorothy is the lead must be thrilling for your entire family. Love how she is flying in this and realizing a dream come true! Gorgeous! I bet she rocks it!
Denise, thank you for your prompt and reminding/allowing us to be inspired by others’ words.
let’s us not ignore the scholar
who brings us science vs. squalor
long-term evidence not just dollars
always working, testing harder
those in power never smarter
stop faltering the charter
you’re disposable, short-term reign
use your brain, halt the drain
how do we terminate this pain
Inspired by rhymes in Lin-Manuel Miranda’s song, Alexander Hamilton, in Hamilton the Musical.
I’m hearing the Miranda rhythm here, and while nodding my head in agreement of the frustration and rage, I thought, “This needs to be staged.” Naturally, it all made sense when I got to the inspiration. Go, Stefani B!
Excellent reuse of these rhymes, Stefani! I especially love the flow of “you’re disposable, short-term reign”
Wow, Stefani, you made magic with these rhymes. You have given such a great argument for scholarship and science in “long-term evidence not just dollars.” Actually every single line has solidified your argument. Yes, to the “short-term reign” of despots.
Stefani, ooh! You’ve successfully tackled Miranda. These resonate so hard: short-term reign, use your brain, those in power never smarter. We need a new musical (I can envision that whole “I’ll Be Back” song with a new “king.”
Oh I hadn’t seen yours yet, but I picked a Hamilton song too! Such great rhymes
You kept the beat & worked in the rhymes so well!
Can I just stand up and clap all month for this? Your ending question is powerful – and hopeful! All at once. Brilliant.
Thank you for this verse idea Denise. I love the mingling in of both English and Spanish words.
Today I’m borrowing words from Cat Steven’s’ song Peace Train.
Peace
My mind wanders off lately
Heavy with the changes to come
I dream of a life that can be
as simple as it had begun
Each day the news brings darkness
Barreling through like a freight train
Let’s take back our beloved country
And raise our voices strong again
My mind wanders off lately
Why can’t we live as one
Where peace is the way to be
I pray this is the world to come
Christine, the repetition of your “lately” line is effective. I too wrote about a similar theme this morning. I hope you can at least have a peaceful day. Thank you for sharing.
That makes two of us, Christine, nodding our poetics to Cat Stevens (mine will be Day 5 of Verse Love). I love the line, “Barreling through like a freight train,” as I can feel the words pushing with speed through the heaviness arriving in stanza two. Rereading with Stevens in mind made this word play even more wonderful.
Christine, I’m absolutely in love with this lines:
thank you for writing and sharing them!
Christine, this is really beautiful. I especially like what you did with the middle verse here. To “raise our voices” and “take back our beloved country”. I too pray the way of peace “is the world to come.” Thank you for sharing today.
Denise, thank you for hosting us today with borrowed rhymes! Your poem captures the feeling of a blended language, the point of immersion with enough of the language to go back and forth between them. I like the feeling of it – and your reference to the tiny stone – – is that the Rosetta by chance? I will have fun with more of these in the weeks to come. For today, I extracted these words: blue, knew, round, down, time, mine, care, anywhere from my favorite Eagles song, Take it to the Limit.
More Time
….when out of the blue,
who even knew?!
can I last one more round?
do I feel too beat down?
I want more time
to call mine – ALL MINE!
to spend time how I care
to day trip anywhere….
Kim, ahh, more time to call mine–yes, please! and I resonate with your “day trip anywhere” ending as I love to wonder/wander. Thank you for sharing today.
ME, TOO, Kim, me, too! I didn’t think I’d make it to spring break and now I am utterly dreading the end of it a’coming. Love the song – sang it all through my years as a teeny-bopper (as my dad would say). I have always loved the Eagles. I am now chanting every single line of your poem as my own mantra!
Aah, you had me at the Eagles! LOVE that song…well, and ALL their songs. And your poem does justice to a feeling that resonates even as I sit here all retired and still finding “I want more time.” Hugs, Susie
Nice inspiration, Kim! I love the questions and the exclamations!
Kim, perfect way to use the Eagles this morning. I know you are busy with NPM commitments, writing with us here, along with everything else you do on a daily basis! Here’s to getting a day trip SOON! Your rhythm added to the rhymes in “Take it to the Limit” make it read beautifully!
I forgot to answer your question. I wish I could say “No ripples from the tiny stone.” referred to Rosetta Stone as my learning tool–that would have been clever. But no, I was just rhyming with alone! No ripples from Duolingo to the real world were being made until I finally found someone to talk to!
Kim, let’s day trip together! You are speaking my poetry this morning. I am in need of time as well and don’t hesitate to latch on to the ALL MINE part of this. Spring Break took forever in coming–we have reached the point of the year where it feels impossible to meet all the demands. Lets pick a place and go (can the dogs come?)!
I love the song “Take it to the limit” which adds another layer here for me while reading your poem. I was smiling at the end because I need that day trip to anywhere. I can hear your powerful voice throughout this poem, Kim. Hope you get that time soon.
Kim, I am on the same sound wave with you. I need more time and, preferably, to myself. You do deserve a day trip. “Can you just call in sick once?” as my husband asks me from time to time. I hear you, my friend!
Denise, the challenge of writing from the back to the front is such a good way to mess with the brain this early in the morning. The Spanish words fit so naturally into your poem, almost as if they were meant to be there all along
Thank you for getting us writing in a new way.
leavings
under the watchful eye of a black Crow
perched nearly to the sky above Me
the words fell like ice and Snow
from the branches of the sycamore Tree
each letter, a piercing of my Heart
on this darkening day, an exiting Mood
my thoughts broke, each piece and part
with every syllable, a stabbing (acc)Rued
Forgot to add that the end words come from Frost’s Dust of Snow!
Jennifer, the crow brings such possibility for the omen of these words falling from the tree, piercing your heart. I have been in three or four scenarios with this crow already, a harbinger of dreadful news delivery, the color play of the black crow onto the white of the ice to the red of the heart. It’s so compelling, and what I love best is that you leave it to the reader to imagine what the words are. Bravo!
Morning Jennifer, I am huge fan of playing with words/format and love how you manipulated accrued in this way. Lovely! Thank you for sharing.
ooooh, I was playing with some Frost words too. They are just so fun. I’m not sure why I’m loving the dark turns of this–but I do!
Ooo, Jennifer — this is beautiful. The title, first of all, is so full of instant images…some with sorrow and some with relief and some with “stabbing.” Using the crow overhead sets a really poignant tone, that knowing eye and the sort of ominous shadow up in the tree that a crow conjures. I am hoping that the “darkening” shifts and soon. Hugs of comfort, Susie
Such ominous imagery, invoking Grimm’s and Snow White, portending…and how masterful, that play with (acc)Rued! The caps really add to the gothic feel. You’re a marvel!
Jennifer,
The lines “fell like ice and Snow”, “piercing of my Heart”, “this darkening day” all make me shiver. The words falling, the letters piercing, the syllables adding to the brokenness. Wow. You know how to cast a Mood. I like what you did with the capitalized words at the end of each line. and the visual way you changed rued to (acc)Rued.
That crow seems ominous as do the words falling like snow and ice and leaving me with such imagery and wonderings of what’s next
Thanks for giving me the idea to add the syllable/parentheses to change the word!! It helped!
Jennifer, the flow of your poem is so smooth, and the rhymes don’t feel forced. I love these lines: “the words fell like ice and Snow / from the branches of the sycamore Tree.”
You build up the tension till the final word of the poem. I am intrigued and want to hear more.
Oh, this is fun! At first I had to narrow down just one piece with end rhymes to play with…I skipped around from Van Halen to Robert Frost, Taylor Swift to Eve Merriam. lol. But, since I need to get ready for work I landed on Merriam’s easy-peasy rhymes in ‘Catch a Little Rhyme’
Denise, I love your blend of Spanish into your English poem. That is my world!
Suburban Snow White 2025
An apple’s red takes time
This tale won’t repeat but rhyme
Another woman falls to a floor
After a witch was at her door
Selling apples from her bicycle
Death is still an icicle
Linda, I absolutely love this! Everything from the title to the narrowed re-telling (or new-telling, as the case is) to the rhyme-telling (yes, that’s where I’m landing). I keep re-reading to revel in the cleverness. I’m struck by each word, especially the “a” before floor versus the expected “the.” In its indefiniteness, there’s a broader universality. I’m so glad you brewed this up for us today.
Linda, six lines of mesmerizing imagery from the red of the apple to the fall, to the witch at the door and the bicycle and icicle…..I am particularly drawn to the middle stanza…..it could be the epilogue to a whole novel about a marriage betrayal and the wife who discovers the truth and takes on the witch’s cloak to accomplish one simple task at the drop of her hat…..oh, you have my mind spinning with imagination. Sometimes a line takes us to new places and yours sure did today!
Linda, it seems you had great fun with this poem. Love title, and the each line. “Death is still an icicle” anyway you think about it. Bravo!
Linda, I love thinking of you spending time with all these rhyming poets this morning. I was happy to get a reminded of Merriam’s “Catch a Little Rhyme.” I used to use that a lot with second graders. One of my favorite lines in your poem is “An apple’s red takes time.” I envision an apple, all the way from the blossom. The idea of the rhyming Snow White story is powerful, and the indefinite articles, like Jennifer said, really do make it a universal story (rhyme of a story).
Imagine a world of cloud
rolling above the hills,
alone, but beyond a crowd
of daytime daffodils,
with petals reaching towards trees,
both, swaying to the breeze
with end-line words borrowed from I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud by William Wordsworth
https://discoverpoetry.com/poems/william-wordsworth/i-wandered-lonely-as-a-cloud/
That’s cool! Now all I want to do is play with someone else’s rhymes. I’ll bet this is fun to do with students too. I especially like “hills/daffodils” as there are plenty of yellow daffodils all around me these days.
Kevin, whenever I think of Wordsworth, this is the poem that comes to mind. Someone once told me that he believed children smiled more often since they were most recently closest to God. I have not been able to verify that but it’s provoking to think about, a peaceful image, just as your poem is.
Kevin, a wonderful choice for daffodil season! Reading your poem took me straight to Gibbs Gardens in Ball Ground, Georgia, where I get that feeling of being beyond the crowd to enjoy the full splendor of the daffodil fields. Lovely!
Kevin, what a fresh look at the familiar rhymes. I was just using Wordsworth’s line in a Verse Collector poem on April first. Your first two lines captured my attention.
So graceful and peaceful, Kevin – your poem is a beckoning.
Kevin — Even as I read your poem again, I’m each time smitten by the image that is so Wordsworthian and worthy. As I’ve been painting watercolors over the last couple years, the “cloud/ rolling”… “above the hills…the daffodils…” it all runs together for me. And I LOVE that. Ya know, starting my days this April with your always-early posting is a really good thing, and I appreciate that you are here writing even before the sun pushes the sand out of her eyes. My best, Susie
Kevin, I enjoyed reading Wordsworth’s poem too. The rhymes are so specific, and yet you have created another world to see with these words. I loved the image of a “crowd / of daytime daffodils” And I am imagining this world with the daffodils and trees “both, swaying to the breeze.” So peaceful.
I love the simplicity of words and feelings in your morning verse Kevin. I felt a peacefulness come over me as I read and reread this – which was much needed. Thank you for the escape