Dear _____, with Susan Ahlbrand
Welcome to Day 3 of the February Open Write. We are so happy you are here, however you choose to be present. If you know what to do, carry on, if you are not sure, begin by reading the inspiration and mentor poem, then scroll to the comment section to post your poem. Please respond to at least three other poems in celebration of words, phrases, ideas, and craft that speak to you. Click here for more information on the Open Write.
Susan Ahlbrand has been teaching 8th grade English/language arts for 34 years in the small southern Indiana town of Jasper. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, writing, listening to music, watching sports, and spending time with her husband, their four kids, and their Goldendoodle, Hutch.
Inspiration
NBA superstar Kobe Bryant was more than just a great athlete; he was also an award-winning poet and filmmaker. His short film for “Dear Basketball” won the Academy Award for Best Animated Short Film in 2017. The text of the poem reveals the passion he reveals for basketball
Process
Brainstorm things that you are passionate about. Write a letter to “it,” telling it how it has affected you over time. Work to choose words and phrases carefully for compact language, emotional impact, and rhythm. Use line breaks and punctuation to make it LOOK like a poem. Let your emotion–positive and negative–shine through.
Susan’s Poem
Dear School,
From my earliest memory of toddling
behind my dad into his office
at the old Lincoln,
I had a huge crush on you.
I fell in love with you.
A love so deep that I kept coming
back for more.
And more and more.
From the TV-table-turned-desk
in my childhood closet (my clothes were my students)
to my first classroom at the old JMS
and my bright and shiny new classroom at the current school.
my heart and mind has always been filled
when surrounded by you.
I love the feel
the vibe
the emotion
you bring.
I heard you call me
from a young age
and I never really felt a pull
to go anywhere else but
with you.
Your walls, floors, and ceilings
enclose me in a sanctuary where I feel
100% at home.
Your windows open up to a world outside
that I sometimes wish to be a part of
while never really allowing for anyone to see in.
Your doors open to the seemingly endless flow
of eager and not-so-eager learners
day after day after day.
You’re not for everyone,
but the challenge you present
offers me constant growth.
With you have come droves of
impressionable,
insightful,
indefatigable
adolescents
who have taught me as much
as I have taught them.
They have inspired me
touched me
exasperated me
disappointed me
frustrated me
invigorated me
There are days, it feels like
I have been with you forever
Yet others, it feels like
you and I joined yesterday.
In many ways, you seem unchanged,
steady, timeless
Yet in others, you feel revolutionary,
malleable, flighty.
22 years of dating you
Then 34 more of the full commitment of marriage
I don’t believe in divorce
I suppose it’s necessary in some cases
when there are irreconcilable differences
I don’t feel that
Do you?
We’ve been together for decades
More than a generation
I am such a staunch supporter of you.
I’m not sure I can ever leave you.
You have filled my heart
And filled my life.
I was young
I grew older
I got married
I had kids
You were with me every step of the way.
My constant
My guiding star.
Oh, school . . .
Thank you for everything you are.
XOXO,
Susan
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
Will you participate in #VerseLove 2022?
April is National Poetry Month. The Ethical ELA community creates a celebration of all that poetry does for our hearts and minds by offering daily writing inspiration and a supportive space to discover what happens when we write poetry all month long.
Dear wisdom teeth,
We’ve known each other
almost my whole life
until you decided
it would a great idea
to destroy it.
Sure,
you were “kind” to me
and didn’t try to encroach
on my other teeth
but there was still no room for you;
not in my face
not in my life.
The second you tried to
be the star of my life
was the second I knew
you had to be gone.
And now,
with you out of my life
for good
you still wreak havoc.
Your absence has left me
in pain
for five days now.
I can’t eat
I can’t sleep
I can’t even poop, gosh darn it.
How dare you.
I know that
beginning tomorrow,
I will be able to eat again,
and hopefully sleep again,
and even more hopefully poop again.
Once I
and my body
have gotten over you,
your absence
will no longer be
the thing that keeps me
up at night.
And then
I can live fully;
a wonderful life,
that is so much better
without you.
I am glad to see
you gone
and am glad
you will never
ever
return,
But did you
have
to leave
with so much
drama
in your wake?
I guess it doesn’t
really matter
anymore.
I cut you out
of my life
and that’s that.
Your never ever friend,
Elissa
Dear Body,
You have served me well.
There were days I thought I
needed to look different,
better, more like society’s ideal.
But then I learned you are all mine,
and you are a glorious gift.
A glorious gift that was knitted together
by the creator of the universe,
kissed by an angel, and set
on this earth to love and be loved.
I abused you at times–
too much food, too little exercise.
But you have held up quite well
for me,
in spite of me.
You have proven versatile–
you’ve hit and caught thousands of softballs,
you’ve swum and run and walked in beautiful places,
you’ve birthed two babies,
you’ve given me kidneys enough to share,
you’ve helped me love to eat legumes and veggies,
and just today you let me
dismantle an abandoned pack rat’s nest,
pull down and set the ramp on a U-Haul truck,
and ride my fat tire bike in the sand.
I’ve entered my seventh decade with
a few bumps and bruises,
sore joints, excess cholesterol,
new artificial lenses in my eyes,
and other weaknesses,
but I love you,
and I just wanted to tell you so.
With gratitude,
Denise
Denise,
This poem is the embodiment of “For thou art fearfully and wonderfully made.” It’s glorious and filled w/ the kind of self-love young women need. I joined Noom a year ago, and it has been good for me, but it’s based on the premise I (and others) don’t like my body. I joined for health reasons, to keep from developing adult onset diabetes. The world expects us all to self-loathe our physical being, and that’s such an insult to the one who made us, in whose image we are formed.
Denise, this is a beautiful tribute! I admire you for loving your body, writing about it, and accepting the changes women’s bodies have over the years especially after having children. I love how you learned your body was a “glorious gift” and that you didn’t need to look different. I love the repetition in your middle stanza of “you’ve” and your 2nd person POV. I enjoyed learning more about you. I love the emotion in your ending “and other weaknesses,
but I love you,
and I just wanted to tell you so.” Bravo, Denise. Thank you for sharing.
Denise,
I so needed to read this today, so I am glad that I circled back to check and see if anyone wrote poems after I hit the sack last night. I’ve added on about 30 extra pounds since the dreaded Covid/menopause phase hit. Your poem focuses on so many positives of your body that I am going to try to view mine in the same way.
I love so much about your poem, but I really love the anaphora you use and the myriad of things you list to appreciate in this part:
Dear phone,
I love you.
I hate you.
You make my life easier.
You make my life harder.
You are always there for me.
You are so damned needy.
You are my life preserver.
You are the ultimate enabler.
You save me time.
You waste my time.
You wake me up.
You keep me up.
You are mobile.
You are a ball and chain.
Divorce is out of the question.
Is it time we see a therapist?
Your owner/your owned,
Katrina
Oh, Katrina, you have captured the wicked pleasure of the phone! So clever. “Your owner/your owned” is hilarious.
Katrinia, your first two lines hooked me! I love the repetition you used stating your pros and cons. I adore your cleverness and humor in these lines “You are a ball and chain”,
“Divorce is out of the question. Is it time to see a therapist?”, and “Your owner/your owned,”. Thank you for sharing.
Katrina,
I think this poem should be printed on a phone case that is required to be on everyone’s phone. The antithesis you show captures the unhealthy co-dependence we all have on our phones. You really nailed this!
Thank you so much for this prompt Susan. I had so much fun writing!
Dear Poetry,
I have so many mixed emotions about you.
We are in a love/hate relationship. I love to write
down the words of my runaway mind.
Taking phrases like “only words that cut deep into the wounds of hatred”
and “that tree is me, sitting in my secret place” and plant
them into a rhythm of blues settled with curls and swirls, dips and sticks.
I hate you now because well,
I really don’t know.
It’s the pain of trying to find the words.
It’s also the medium change.
Graduating from wide-rule to a glass phone screen,
my now innermost thoughts are still
unsafe. From prying hands that could peek at pages in my journal
to sneaky fingertips unlocking my passcode. Do I take the risk to continue?
Why yes! You are my escape from this reality
of chaos and into the depths are overflowing rivers of peace
and the love for late-night snacking of chocolate-covered almonds and Cheetos
makes me wanna write more. Feeding my hunger
physically and mentally, I hope to one day publish some of you.
My name in fancy Lucida
calligraphy font. But the rest I take to my grave
with my headstone engraved in Comic Sans MS:
Here lies Jessica T. Wiley: Wife, Mother,
and A Secret Poetry Sneaker.
Jessica, Your first line hooked me. I resonate a lot with your poem from, “We are in a love/hate relationship. I love to write/ down the words of my runaway mind.”, “It’s the pain of trying to find the words.”, “Graduating from wide-rule to a glass phone screen, / my now innermost thoughts are still/unsafe.”, “You are my escape from this reality/ of chaos and into the depths are overflowing rivers of peace”, “love for late-night snacking of chocolate-covered almonds”, and to “Feeding my hunger/ physically and mentally, I hope to one day publish some of you.” I feel your emotions and passion in this poem, and your humor in the ending lines. Excellent. Bravo, Jessica.
Jessica,
I love that you are A Secret Poetry Sneaker! I really enjoyed your poem.
Jessica,
This is so good . . . filled with great details. So specific. I just love it.
I especially enjoy your ending:
I have this short film/poem and have used it in class before–but not in the same way. After a quiet weekend, this is what came out. Thank you for the fun prompt,
Dear Solitude,
While some find you lonely,
something to avoid,
a source of anxiety or fear, I love you.
You have given me the space
to find my true self,
to allow my own voice to assert itself,
and the time to reset, refresh, and rejuvenate
my body and soul.
Thank you for this gift.
It will be our little secret,
I promise to stay quiet
and keep this between us.
Love,
Cara
I, like you, enjoy and need solitude to recharge the batteries. Thanks for sharing even though it’s a “little secret” ?
Cara,
Thanks for sharing this appreciation of solitude. I suspect many of share it.
I love
Cara, so meaningful are your words, “the time to reset, refresh, and rejuvenate my body and soul.” After a terribly busy weekend, I changed my plans for today to allow for the restorative solitude you describe here. Thank you for focusing on solitude.
Oh Cara, I love this I love solitude too! But in reality, I’m a wife and a mother of two. My solitude went out the window 10+ years ago, lol! But this line, “to allow my own voice to assert itself,”…we can never really hear ourselves when other people are talking. In the quiet is where we find our voice.
Ah yes , Cara! You hit my buttons. I love solitude, also and resonate with your poem. I love and relate to your words “I love you. / You have given me the space / to find my true self, /to allow my own voice to assert itself, / and the time to reset, refresh, and rejuvenate / my body and soul.” You are correct solitude is a gift as is your poem. Thank you for sharing,
I used an excerpt from Kobe’s “Dear Basketball” as a mentor text in the Summer of 2019.
“You gave a six-year-old boy his Laker dream. And I’ll always love you for it. But I can’t love obsessively for much longer. This season is all I have left to give. My heart can take the pounding. My mind can handle the grind. But my body knows it’s time to say goodbye.” ~Kobe Bryant
Dear Teaching,
You gave a 37;-year-old her new dream.
And I’ll always love you for it.
I don’t know how much longer I can love you obsessively.
This school year, I gave all as I always give.
My heart can take it.
My mind can handle the it.
I hope there never comes a time to say goodbye.
Donetta,
Your appreciation for what teaching has given you is palpable.
Donnetta,
I love how you mirrored Bryant’s original–and yet, if you hadn’t put it there, I would never have realized. You speak so many truths in your poem. Thank you for sharing.
Oh, Donnetta, I love how you used Kobe’s excerpt as a mentor. It is wonderful to read them side-by-side. I think this would be a great activity for students to write a poem like this. I can see that this last year has not been easy. I hope too that you won’t have to say goodbye. (Even after retirement, there is still teaching to do, I’m finding.)
Do teachers really ever say goodbye? Even as I look toward retirement, I know I’ll be finding some other occupation or volunteer work that will – of course – involve some kind of teaching. Thank you for this tribute. We need to remember our thanks for our careers even amidst so much not to be quite so thankful for.
Thanks for the prompt! I had heard of this poem, but I had never used it as a mentor poem. It’s such an accessible piece! Susan, your model poem was great! I did go a bit of a different direction, though, and my brain feels tired tonight. It was fun to write this little guy though LOL!
Dear Wart,
From apple cider vinegar
applied daily
to haunting
liquid nitrogen treatments,
you, my finger’s tiny
cauliflower, still persist.
You’ve grown on me
(literally, not figuratively).
You don’t spread
(which I do appreciate).
but you also don’t go away
(which I would appreciate more).
At least I will never need
a pebble in my shoe
because I know
I’ve got you.
Sincerely(?),
Me
Rachelle,
Oh yes, the joys of having a body. What a fun poem!
Rachelle, I love the tongue-in-cheek love letter to this little guy! I’m glad it doesn’t spread, at least.
Rachelle, I can relate to your poem because I have a few warts that don’t want to go away, also. I love your humor! Bravo! Thank you for sharing.
Hilarious! Gross! Hilarious! Love the “tiny cauliflower.” Ewwwww! I know! I had one of those, too. That little bugger, right? It’s like, of all the woes in the world, my became totally focused on that little bitty bump. I hope it went/does go away. Mine just did after enough different “treatments.” Maybe there’s actually only one of these, and it just hops from one person to another. Wouldn’t that be a good story? Thanks for the laugh!
Dear Maybe Child,
More and more each day
I find myself wondering
when you will start growing
If ever you will start growing
Are you in the cards for me?
Hopefully.
Soon it will be ten years past the age I thought I’d have a you
And I hope it’s not too late
I hope you grow and I see you
Birth you
Hold you
Feed you
Clean you
Guide you
Teach you
Love you.
Oh, Angie. The want just shines through your words. There’s sadness and hope and yearning all mixed with the possibility that it’s not going to happen. It’s hard to pull all of those emotions off in so few lines and you do.
You use repetition so effectively.
This poem just makes me ache for you.
Wow, Angie. You’ve packed so many emotions into such a short poem. The longing, the wondering, and so much more really drew me in. Hugs to you.
I love this Angie! It’s short and simple, yet packs so much! Your Maybe Child…Hopefully, yes.
This is lovely and full of longing. I hope this little child becomes a loved reality. It’s never too late.
Angie,
I want to hug you and fix this waiting so that it’s a countdown of nine months you’re awaiting. My heart aches for you and the sense of loss you’ve shared in this poem. I hope you’ll soon receive the news you long to hear. Hugs.
Angie, I feel your emotions so clearly. I remember wondering if I would have children, too. I love your repetition and I hope writing about this longing makes your feel better. I am sending you hugs, hope, and prayers. Thank you for sharing.
A BILLET DOUX
Dear WP –
When I let go,
step in with both feet,
itch to engage,
feel the chafe,
sense the boil
somewhere in the marrow
of wanting,
I am lost in the ether
of you.
My eyes close
so that I might see
without the friction,
beyond interference
that tethers and binds my tongue;
then clarity unfolds,
loosens its hold
on protocols, rules, judgments,
and I swim in the sweet amniotic syrup
of WordPlay.
Love,
Susie
by Susie Morice, February 21, 2022©
Susie,
So dang clever! I was yearning to hear all about this mystery person. Then, you hit us with Word Play. Awesome!
Love these lines:
Susie, my mind jumped immediately to WIP when I saw WP but then the who might it be kept distracting me. Love that it turns out to be WordPlay and all that the sweet amniotic syrup brings! It most certainly is found in the marrow of wanting – lovely!
Doggone it! You win! How do you think of the things you think of? Wowwww! I love it! I didn’t know what to expect at first.
Thankful you’re always set free! Your poetry proves that you always “swim in the sweet amniotic syrup” of words and poetry!
??????
Susie,
Dang, girl, I’m running out of ways to tell you how brilliant you are, how your poetry inspires and motivates me to try harder, to write better. I’m jumping in the pool w/ you do I, too, can “swim in the amniotic fluid of Word Play.” That image is ?. And you sizzle!
Ode to Tea
By Mo Daley 2/21/22
Dear tea, you know I’ve never been a coffee drinker
From childhood the smell repulsed me
Fear of diabetes induced me to ditch juice and give you a try
And I’ve never looked back
You gently beckon me on winter mornings
Helping me to prepare for the day
On the couch with dogs on my lap
And iPad at the ready, deciding which news to peruse
Assam, orange pekoe, chai, white jasmine,
I really don’t care, as long as it isn’t Earl Grey-
AKA Dirty Sock tea-
I’m happy to sit and relax with my thoughts and you
And Saturdays and Sundays,
When I can enjoy a teapot full of your favorite blend
Are heavenly respites
Necessary to reset for the week ahead
Well, Mo – You did it with this one… I’m getting up to go make a cup of tea. And I really love coffee, but tonight it’s going to be tea. Thank ye 4 tea! I laughed out loud at “dirty sock tea”… AHAHAHA! I’m not a fan of Earl Grey either, and now I know why! Fun poem. Thanks. Susie
“Dirty sock tea”—you are so right! I am a devoted coffee drinker—but you make me reconsider…maybe in the afternoon!
I’m reading this as I am enjoying a cup of evening tea. Chamomile. I have actually been on the hunt for some morning tea to give me a little get-up-and- go, and guess what I bought just today at the store??? Dirty Sock tea! I am not kidding. Now, I don’t know what to have in the morning as I am trying to get off coffee.
Mo,
Yes!! I love tea and don’t care for coffee. We are a dwindling breed, but happy. I love the interweaving of tea with ways to enjoy it–yes, yes, yes. And Earl Grey tea is icky as heck, indeed!
Mo, I couldn’t agree more with your assessment of “Earl Grey – AKA Dirty Sock tea-” Blech! I enjoyed your homage to the drink which prepares, relaxes, and provides respite.
Mo, I’ve never thought of tea this way. I like tea, but it’s the Southern Sweet Iced Tea! Maybe because I don’t have those same longing opportunities to often just sit on the couch and enjoy heavenly respites. I had very vivid images in my head. So jealous, lol!
Mo, I love your poem and I love tea! I love your voice and see all your images. I especially love this image of you balancing your cup of tea with “On the couch with dogs on my lap / And iPad at the ready”. I also don’t like Earl Grey or dirty sock tea. I relate to these lines “I’m happy to sit and relax with my thoughts and you” and “Are heavenly respites”. I especially love green peppermint tea and Tulsi peppermint tea because they help me reduce brain fog, help me to focus on my writing, are uplifting, and reduce stress. Give them a try if you haven’t before. Thank you for sharing.
Dear Books,
From the moment
I cracked the cardboard spine
inhaled the adhesive & woodsy pulp
turned pages
dove into words
other lives and other worlds
I fell in love with you
A love so deep
awake into the night
flashlight beaming under covers
A love so deep
turned away friends at the door
to the reach the end of the page
the chapter
the story
And so I read
and in the ink
met and lost
many friends
And so I read
and mourned
with characters for characters
so many tears
for those children in the attic,
for Algernon, for Alice
for Hazel & August
So many tears
And so I read
and my way of knowing
the world was challenged and changed
as I walked beside Scout and
learned from Atticus
As I felt the burn of a letter upon my breast
My heart has been broken again
and again
And so I read & ponder the
“The Fault in Our Stars”
the universality of classics
the truths in these fictions
I am addicted to this pain
I am addicted to this joy
I am addicted to you,
dear books.
You sure capture the many things that books bring to our lives. It would be a fun challenge (and perhaps a poem too long to enjoy) to try to incorporate as many specific characters that we learned from.
I really love these lines:
Tammi, You have captured the love of books, pages and stories so eloquently. I love your poem. I can relate to these lines, ” A love so deep
turned away friends at the door
to the reach the end of the page
the chapter
the story”
I remember doing that a few times. I too am addicted to the pain and joy of books.
Thank you!!
So lovely, Tammi. You’ve captured so many moments that readers treasure. I think you should have this posted in your classroom for all readers to see!
Tammi, YES! I love and resonate with your poem! Your words have captured many emotions mentioning characters, tears, “met and lost /many friends”, “As I felt the burn of a letter upon my breast”, “My heart has been broken again / and again”, and “the truths in these fictions”. Your last lines are so true. I feel many will resonate with your poem. Perhaps, Mo has a great idea for you to post your poem for your class to read. So many will resonate with your words, and you might capture those reluctant readers. Bravo! Thank you for sharing.
Inspired by the prompt, the song “If We Were Vampires” by Jason Isbell (which breaks my tear barrier every time I hear it), and a smarmy movie quote.
“It’s not the worst thing in the world to find out that you love your husband.”
(From the movie Spanglish.)
Time With You
It hasn’t always been like this.
There have actually probably been
more times I didn’t feel this way
than I did.
But the pandemic changed all that.
It could have gone either way
I understand
as for so many, it did
cramped up together
hour upon hour
day after day
unable to find peace
among their chosen tribe.
Yet we coalesced
through days and months
of fear and uncertainty.
You supported my sudden shift
to all day every day online
and got the Disney channel
to watch every Marvel movie ever made
(well, almost).
We grew in comfort with
one another’s constant silence
grew accustomed to the most
intimate daily sounds of survival
of just the other being there
as though this is how it had always been.
And so now, back on campus
having to walk out that door every day
has never felt a greater burden to me
not because of the work – which I still love
but because of what it
takes me away from.
You.
My passion is my time with you.
Who knew after all these years already?
Anything that takes us apart
has got to be worth it
I say now.
I can see the countdown ahead of us
and I don’t want to lose a minute.
Denise — This pandemic really did bring people together. This stanza is so poignant.
And so now, back on campus
having to walk out that door every day
has never felt a greater burden to me
not because of the work – which I still love
but because of what it
takes me away from.
You.
Denise,
Frame this and hang it in your living room. What an incredible tribute to your husband/your relationship. How fortunate you and your husband are to feel this way! Many, unfortunately, felt this way:
Denise, I can feel the passion and love in your poem and in your relationship. You’re right, the pandemic pushed families and couples closer together, hopefully in a positive way. It made me think about my own situation. Your last lines especially spoke to me, being in a 30+ year relationship.
I really enjoyed these lines too, “We grew in comfort with
one another’s constant silence
grew accustomed to the most
intimate daily sounds of survival
of just the other being there
as though this is how it had always been.”
Thank you for this fabulous poem today.
Wow, Denise. I love the honesty in your poem. Things are not always perfect in a marriage, but many of us accept that as a part of like. I really appreciate the shift in perspective- that anything that takes you away from it had better be worth it. I just adore your last lines that show how you value the important things in life.
Denise — This is absolutely beautiful. I watched this same thing unfold with a couple of my very best friends…they’d been “at” each other and not very happy anymore, but the pandemic changed all that for them as it did for you and your “You.” I love the tenderness of this shift. How time matters in more intense ways between the two of you now. Totally lovely. So, will you save this for a special moment or have you already shared this with “You.”? It deserves candles and kisses. Love it. Susie
Well, this made me cry 😀
Oh, what a beautiful love story. The last stanza. Wow. Who knew after all these years? I experienced the same thing with my husband—this resonates in my soul!
Wow, Denise. What a beautiful tribute and love poem about your husband. I love that you shared the quote from Spanglish too. Love that you had this epiphany of love with your hubby during the pandemic.
I feel this also. My husband and I have been “cramped up together,” and grown together in comfort. After spending so much time that I adore with him, I would hate to have to leave him daily for a 9 to 5 job. I agree…”who knew after all these years?” As we are both aging we also feel the countdown. Your words say it perfectly.
Denise, what a beautiful tribute and love poem! I love it! I’m happy for both of you that you have had a positive experience and have rekindled your love and relationship with your husband through this crazy and horrible pandemic. I love how you have showed the change and growth in your relationship, and I feel your emotions. Your last stanza has brought me to tears. Maybe, you should seek to publish your poem: I feel many will love it and learn from it as I have. Bravo! Thank you for sharing your honesty and love in this poem.
Thank you for this prompt and for sharing a lovely mentor text! Here is my poem for today:
dear song,
i knew you before
i knew that i knew you
and i grew
i felt you before
i could read you
and i still feel
you carry me from room to
room and
echo my soul
dance to dance
foot to foot
toe to toe with
pain
love
fear
relation or perhaps
elation
maybe everything?
you are the sum of my best parts
and my worst
you never tire
so i never tire
even when i am beyond tired
i come back
home
-ejh
Emma,
I love the song within this poem, the way you use the line breaks to create beats and pause. “pain/love/fear” each its own step, its own line. I also notice the lower case of all the letters, which maybe signals the music subverting print in some way. And I smiled in the final stanza with “beyond tired.”
Cheers,
Sarah
Emma,
Your line breaks sure give this poem a great look, feel, and sound. I love these lines as songs usually are our go-to during fluctuating emotions.
Emma — I love the rhythm of this poem. I always tell me student music is poetry and I think you’ve captured that essence. I feel like I’m dancing with you.
Emma, your love of song…takes me back to my teenage years when I would turn up the radio and sing the favorite only line of a song I knew and mumble the rest, lol! “You carry me from room to room.” I imagine a magic carpet, carried by the wind of vocals to a hiding place. And the many emotions and dance moves busting loose when the song comes on. Oh yes!! Thank you for this!
Emma, this is so beautiful and reads like a love song. Your first stanza hooked me, and each word kept reeling me in! I especially love and resonate with these lines “echo my soul”, “toe to toe with / pain / love / fear/ relation or perhaps /elation”. Your last stanza is a great ending. Thank you for sharing this gift and reminding me that I need to sing through a pretend microphone old love songs like I used to do, to feel joy, passion, and “elation”, again. You also remind us how important song/music is to our souls, heart, and life. “Music is a universal language.” Sorry I can’t remember who’s quote this is. Our daughter is a talented musician with viola and is studying to be a music teacher. For many years we were fortunate to watch our daughter perform, grow, and feel the joy her music brought to many. During the pandemic, I was saddened to not hear her play and for her not to be able to have concerts. This past October we were able to see in person our daughter’s senior recital and her last college orchestra performance. She blew me away and mesmerized me with her amazing growth and talent. She brought me to tears to hear and see her perform with so much passion reaching that potential that many of her instructors, conductors, and I knew she had. We are so proud of her. I apologize for going on and on about our daughter. I thought you would be able to relate to it. Thank you so much for your beautiful poem!
Two poems for today’s prompt.
_________________________________
De_r W_rd_e,
Wh_t
The
F_ _ k?
_________________________________
Sometimes
sometimes
I will tempt
fate and
consciously
burn a try
with a gray
tile from
before
to see
if some
particular
letter
is in
the word
and
sometimes
sometimes
this new tile
will flip
and
turn
green
and I’ll
stop
and pause
breathe
and pause
and think
I’m
still
in this
I’m still
alive
Scott,
LOL! Wordle is so last month. You need Absurdle (play against the computer) and Quordle, the four game version of Wordle.
OMG! Are you kidding!? I have to find these! Love it. My nieces out in Portland and Boise are all into Wordle as well. Now we have to find Absurdle and Quordle! Oh dear! Susie
…and it is all worth it. All of it!:)
Scott, thank you for sharing this. Proof that something seemingly mundane can and will become beautiful. A lovely line was “sometimes / I will tempt / fate and / consciously / burn a try / with a gray / tile…” Me too!
Scott! Thank you for bringing a smile and laughter to my afternoon. I love the duo here as commentary and reflection. As I moved down this poem, I feel a nudge of ontology– a way of being — or maybe it is existentialism — that these tiles nudge us to “breathe” and feel our existence in such a way that makes this game someone lifesaving.
Sarah
Scott, the laugh I just snorted was so needed today. Same. Same.
Oh, Scott . . . your sense of humor just almost elicits an out loud laugh from me. Wordle is taking the world by fire and it can be sooo frustrating. Every day, some other clever genius launches a new version. I could get lost forever.
Scott — I literally just finished my wordle for today. This made me laugh out loud because it is so true! Thank you for your fun poem!
Oh, Scott, you’re in Wordlandia! I love it! S_ da__ed c__l! Susie
I love this from
“De_r W_rd_e,
Wh_t
The
F_ _ k?”
to
“I’m still
alive.”
I’ve been steeling myself for the sad day I miss that sixth try – the finality.
Susan, what a great love letter you wrote to school. I was reminded of Mrs. Mary Lash, a teacher for 67 years most of it at Paramount High School (my alma mater). She just died at age 93. She is a good example of how teaching can be good for the body and soul!
I love how you mentioned the stages of your life and yet about school–“You were with me every step of the way.” That was an interesting observation. Thanks for your prompt today. I’m working on my love letter.
Susan, thank you for such a beautiful prompt. Your poem left me feeling affirmed in my own teaching. I, too, love it, and cherish my two decades with it. It also made me think about the sadness I feel right now perhaps because of it.
Dear Teaching,
We used to look at the
sky together, chart
the days, weeks, and months
ahead. Get giddy about
trajectories and hold
our breath in awe at all
of the shooting stars.
Maybe that was the
problem. You had a seat
at every table. Even when
I tried to turn you inside
out, there you were, irreversible.
“I’m in the milk, and the milk’s in me!”
The more
I give, the more you need.
There’s not a book I read
that doesn’t serve you. Not
a day that goes by where I’m
not thinking about the lives
that inhabit my classroom.
(They, too, are a part of me.)
I am never not revising, creating,
connecting, worrying.
But I am lost
in the roots from which
you nursed me.
I need a timeout.
Just a few months.
Wait for me, will you?
I just need to find what I’ve lost.
Friends. Writing. Mystery novels
and crossword puzzles. Maybe I’ll
even futz a little. Get bored.
I’ll be back, I promise.
We’ll sit under the sky with a new map.
I’ll let you do your magic, but this
time, I’ll make sure I bring a poem
with me, the one about me loving
you but needing space to be able
know who I am without you.
We’ll memorize it together, recite it.
We can still hold hands. This time
I’ll be able to walk away and come back to
you, again and again, starry-eyed and gleaming.
This is such a honest, heart-felt letter. Sometimes we just need a break, time away, to rejuvenate, and renew our commitment. I love the use of the sky and stars.
Stacey, your poem articulates what so many teachers are feeling these days. It’s heartbreaking, this loss of passion for teaching, this desire for a break/-sometimes a permanent one. Even now in retirement I’m still thinking about teaching, looking for inspiration to share w/ educators, and wondering if I’d feel the way you do had I been forced to teach in these dire times. Sending you lots of hope for better times and a renewed love of teaching.
Denise!
So loved this reflection and honest talk, lovingly offered.
These lines
Makes me think about too much of a good thing, even co-dependence, dependence. Needing or an enmeshed sense of being are signs we need to extract, take a break, “know who I am without you.” Love this so much.
Thank you,
Sarah
Stacey,
I think that we are ALL on the struggle bus right now. And this poem so perfectly captures the ambivalence we feel with something we have loved for so long. And we want to still love it, but it’s a dang challenge.
I really love
Stacey — this stanza says it all so beautifully.
I’ll be back, I promise.
We’ll sit under the sky with a new map.
I’ll let you do your magic, but this
time, I’ll make sure I bring a poem
with me, the one about me loving
you but needing space to be able
know who I am without you.
As teachers we have all been through so much. It is hard to not be exhausted and lose ourselves.
Stacey—your poem is the letter that all of my friends are writing. To love something so much, and feel so disconnected from that love. A break—yes.
Dear God,
Keeper of the flames
of blessings and correction
burnishing imperfections
until I shine.
So close to being ignited
singed, coughing fits of sin
against dipped wings smudged in ash
Your hand of mercy clasp
and pulls me forth like a dripping gold chain
glistening link by link
FORGIVEN
This is a beautiful and very visual poem of thanks. I can see the dipped wings smudged in ash that remind me of how close I can get to hell and am lifted up by God. Love the image of a dripping gold chain that is starting to melt so close to the flames.
Robyn,
This is so gorgeously written. The wording, the images, are so powerful. You capture so much in these concise lines. I especially love
Robyn — Really powerful poem. Beautiful imagery! Especially loved these lines: so close to being ignited/singed, coughing fits of sin
Dang. That’s some powerful movement through these lines. “coughing fits of sin” is well crafted. I love a good metaphor, and what better personification for sin? That final imagery of being pulled along link by link – I mean, this is what poetry is for, right? To put into words that which is so difficult to put into words.
Dear Open Write (aka SJD),
you’ve knitted this community
a blanket to warm our words
a utensil to share our thoughts
a metaphor for the love of poetry,
pedagogy, and positivity
you’ve soaked in the needs
of your participants and
spit out an inclusive, national,
experience of writing,
maximizing the versing
exposing the rhyming
elevating the beats, the slams
the love, the joy, the word
paying attention to our needs
With poetic admiration,
SMB
Stefani,
Such a lovely ode to this community. A blanket, a utensil, sponge, a spout, an escalator– outstanding metaphors for the many ways poetry moves among us!
Cheers,
Sarah
Stefani, standing and clapping over here for you and our illustrious leader/teacher/writer/poet/friend, Sarah!
??????
Stefani,
Thanks for much for conveying so eloquently what we all feel. Sarah HAS indeed created such a special space and she continues to nurture it. All of the metaphors that you create to describe her and Open Write certainly work.
Bravo, Stefanie!! And, I echo her thanks, Sarah. This “place’ is a true gift.
Stefani — Yes! You have really captured the essence of this space. I’m clapping too!
Stefani—you have beautifully stated my feelings about this group. What a joy, that knitted warm blanket…
Susan,
Thank you for reminding me about the Kobe poem/letter. I used it for a poetry lesson two years ago and had forgotten about it. It never gets old and always brings back some tears.
Your poem inspired mine because I knew early on that I was called to teach. Your students will remember you forever!
Dear Joyteam Scholars,
From the moment
I began teaching
Back in 1985
With my own keys, chalk, and grade book
I knew one thing was real:
I was called to serve.
Service is a gift
One of five love languages
Meant to be given freely.
As a five-year-old girl
I played school
My dolls were my students
I wrote on the board
And enforced school rules.
And so I taught!
Math, writing, and reading
Spelling and history
I graded imaginary papers
And even called parents
Because that’s what teachers do.
Here I am 37 years later
Teaching you, Joyteam Scholars!
Learning how to best serve and
How to receive the gift of you
Until it’s time to let you go in June
But I’ll always be that teacher
Who will never forget you.
© Stacey L. Joy, 2/21/22
Stacey, your focus on service, a love language given freely, permeates all that is you! I love the little you teaching dolls, grading imaginary papers, and calling parents (why did I never do that part?). And your joy permeates every line from receiving the gift of students to claiming them as a part of the Joyteam. What fun must be had in your classroom.
Oh, Stacey! Such a loving letter and with the context and wisdom to hold on (but not too tight) to our students. They are only with us in body for 180 days, but we hold onto the gift of their being, the way they’ve moved our hearts and minds forever (or as long as our memory allows). The “serve” has struck me. The honor. The privilege you hold dear. Thank you for all you do and all you are!
Sarah
Stacey,
Teaching as service. Perfect. You are all about service and your lucky Joyteam Scholars get to be the recipients. For 37 years. How blessed they have been.
Sometimes we serve, but for what reason? The following lines should make us all take pause and ask ourselves why we serve?
Stacey,
I love the joy you express in this poem. These lines really made me smile “I graded imaginary papers/and even called parents/Because that’s what teachers do”
and your final lines — “But I’ll always be that teacher/Who will never forget you” — ring so true.
Aw, Stacey, this is great. You really are THE teacher. I loved that little girl playing school. I did that too…never got tired of playing school it seems. Here I’ve been retired for longer than I care to admit and a zillion years in the classroom, and I’m STILL playing school here at ethicalela.com. Your Joyteam is one lucky bunch of kiddos. I loved your reference to the Five Love Languages…I loved that book…so insightful. Cool poem…cool teacher…school is cool! Hugs, Susie
Stacey,
When I think of the very best teachers I know, you’re at the top of the list. Your letter melts my heart, and I hope you share it w/ your Joy Team Scholars. You are amazing and inspiring and every good thing a teacher should be. I wish I could have seen you schooling those dolls, too.
Susan-I loved yur poem. This was on my heart this morning so I wrote and this was my therapy session. Thank you for the release. I feel better now.
Dear Man I Live with,
You have many names
husband
lover
supporter
provider
sweetheart
Mr. Wonderful
At the moment I will
call you problematic
and fixated on your
childhood trauma.
The problem is
we all have unresolved childhood
issues and our concerns can’t collide at
the same time.
Two rams can’t butt heads
and move forward in harmony and peace.
One has to nurture, support, listen,
realize and carry on.
You’re a daddy, you raised successful
stable daughters with a small
amount of help from me, so you
you know about resolving conflict.
You’ve convinced the
masses that you’re sweet, pleasant, supportive, loving and
eternally helpful.
And mentally stable
Wow, if they only knew….
You are so gentle and loving in this poem while also being able to show the underbelly of what’s going on. The “two rams can’t butt heads…” lines spoke to me and nudged me to think about the collisions in my own life. Thank you for sharing this and for also helping me feel not-so-alone in my own dissonance.
Hi my friend, you are in for the long haul, this is just a moment that will soon pass. I pray your honey finds his peace today. I love that you chose to write about it and that the poem was your therapy. I must say, I chuckled at your opening line because my first thought was uh oh, what did he do? LOL you know how to do this, remember you’re better at it than he is. ?
Seana, thank you for sharing this intimate poem with us today. I connect with the idea of poetry as therapy as you mention at top–such power.
Seana,
Writing sure is therapy, isn’t it? I write so many things that I would never say to my husband. Maybe we need to do a better job of voicing our concerns/gripes.
That final line . . . it packs a powerful punch on the heels of listing the describers of what the masses see.
Maybe we should create an anthology of poems we wrote about our spouses that we would never want them to see. 🙂
Seana — I certainly understand the struggle of loving someone and being at your wits end with them at the same time. These line are especially relatable. My husband fits this mold too “You’ve convinced the/ masses that you’re sweet, pleasant, supportive, loving and/eternally helpful/And mentally stable/wow, if they only knew …”
Hang in there!
Seana — I sure do hear the plea for peace for your sweetie. There’s a gentleness here that is so touching, and there’s also the tone of urging and wanting things to sort out. I appreciate the honest voice here. Peace! Thank you for sharing such a personal poem…You are a fine partner. Susie
Dear Art
What it is about you that I love most?
Is it your kiss of brush to canvas?
Is it your smell of turpentine?
Is it your color swirling?
Holding hands in process?
Final creation?
Burning passion
moments with you
fill my heart
and mind
Pure
Glee!
Problems
dissappear.
Free my spirit.
Interaction flows
surrounded with color
embedded deep within me.
Not worried what others might think
I explode with joy when I’m with you.
Your cherished insights nourish my psyche
even though you might embarass me
with miscalculated markings.
I understand your motives
reveal undiscovered
realms within my soul.
Unexpected
imagery
yield
me
refreshed!
Susan, I love how your words create a visual art piece in the flow/length of your words. I also enjoy your words about art embarrassing me…wow, how often does our vulnerability deny us from sharing our art with the world.
Susan,
I love the way your poem is a physical work of art. The questions interrogating art suggest many possibilities for art to speak, which, of course, it does.
Susan,
The physical presence of this poem is lovely. And, it’s pretty masterful how you were able to choose really strong words to create the flow of the lines.
The emotion you feel for art is definitely revealed through these lines.
I love the form of your poem as well 🙂
I am taken by how constraining the language is as it funnels down, but then feels freeing as the form opens up again. Nicely played! How many times can we say it: It’s about the process! This indeed captures some of the very reasons why.
Thanks for this prompt and your sample poem, Susan. I remember being so touched by this poem and sharing it with students.
Dear Poetry,
You are my rainbow,
a promise,
a prayer.
I lean on your truth
on the blank pages of time.
In many ways mysterious,
your muse follows me
through the prairie wandering.
Some days, I feel your absence
like our relationship was all a fraud.
You tell me to Hush!
Sit down.
Open the vein.
Begin again.
So, here we are today, my friend
walking side by side. I hold
your hand. Will you hold mine?
Margaret, your last stanza invites your reader to further make connections to poetry in their life. Thank you for leaving us with this and for sharing today.
Margaret,
The idea of holding hands w/ poetry is why we’re here, yes? Anna and I were talking via Zoom this morning about how poetry offers catharsis for us in this space. Your poem echos our conversation.
BEAUTIFUL love letter to poetry! So much of this resonated with me. I love that you included:
We all have those moments, hopefully not lasting too long, when it seems poetry has abandoned us.
Perfect ending! ?
I fell into a writing slump a few months back. I wanted to writed. I needed to write. But nothing came out. I felt lost without it. Your poem reminds me that our writing (and subsequent reading) is a relationship and sometimes we just need our hand held.
I love this poem as a whole, but the line that really tugs at my heart is this:
“Will you hold mine?” Aww love it 🙂
Not exactly on prompt, more on slant.
Dear Telescope that Is a Poem and Poem that Is a Telescope
I remember my first stirrings,
my first poem.
It was galactic,
a big passion
set in the stars.
It was titled
“The Coal Sack Nebula”.
I could not possible see
it in my cheap Christmas telescope,
but I read about it
and saw photos of it
in “Sky and Telescope”.
It was the first poem
I had ever shared
and my parents did not know
what to do with it,
nor I for that matter.
How do we stand
in the face of the spontaneous overflow
of the muse of love?
I remember how profound
the subject of the poem felt,
but even more
how profound the object of the poem felt,
the physical heft of words that I could share.
Something in the sky
lived in the poem
on the page.
I didn’t expect that weight
and that hot delight in knowing
that
I made this.
And this is the far country
where we travel together,
this nebula our pole star,
everything narrowing down
to slow deliberation and
close reading
through the eyepiece of this
one
telescope.
Terry, love the extended metaphor of the telescope here. My favorite lines:
“Something in the sky
lived in the poem
on the page.”
Exquisite.
You’ve captured the memory and it lives on here.
Yes, the experience of making a poem can be so profound you don’t know what to do with it. I love the last stanza, “Slow deliberation and close reading through the eye piece of this one telescope.” An inspired metaphor.
And this is the far country
where we travel together,
this nebula our pole star,
everything narrowing down
to slow deliberation and
close reading
through the eyepiece of this
one
telescope.
The metaphor here is so many-layered. I find myself taking it in terms of my own viewpoint, limited as it is. Beautiful!
Terry, I really enjoyed so many moments in this! The fact that your first poem was “galactic, / a big passion / set in the stars.” And this question is everything: “How do we stand / in the face of the spontaneous overflow / of the muse of love?” Thank you for writing and sharing this!
Terry,
Feel free to break away from any prompt, especially if you create something as beautiful as this poem.
Poem=Telescope. Just wow. What an intriguing extended metaphor you have created. When we create and we aren’t even sure where it came from and we stand a world away and behold its mysterious beauty, it gives us a sense almost of disbelief. Love these lines:
There are so many ways to come to teaching. Some of them are revolutionary paths that are secretly walked. Nice to see you outline your DNA so bravely. Thanks.
Susan,
I love Kobe Bryant’s letter, and it won our Classroom Poetry Madness last spring. (And it’s the perfect Indiana basketball time for this prompt!)
I wonder how many people your dad inspired to become teachers? I truly believe teaching is a calling, but I didn’t hear it until much later in life. I love the way you described your relationship with teaching and all the emotions you have written. I am sure all of us can relate with many, if not all of them.
I have written to this in prose before but have tweaked it to become a poem.
Dear Motherhood,
Since I was a little girl,
playing with dolls,
babysitting the neighborhood kids,
I knew I wanted to be a mother.
I dreamed of
the joy and love
you could bring
to my broken-dream life.
When I was pregnant with Megan,
I felt the butterfly wings,
a new life growing
within my womb,
just under my heart.
Then, you blessed us
with Ethan.
Now, with a son and a daughter,
my love grew even more.
Staying home with them
was not
an expectation,
or a job–
but a blessing.
Motherhood,
you became my greatest accomplishment
with each milestone.
Oh, and yes, you pushed me.
An equal love
was always on my mind.
It still is.
Motherhood,
you have changed over the years,
yet, you are a role
that I will never lose.
Band-Aids on scraped knees,
bedtime stories,
and homework help
are no longer needed.
Now, it’s
grace and guidance
as they make life decisions
and grow into their roles as adults.
Thank you, Motherhood
for the joy you have given me.
Many days I doubted
whether I was enough,
or worthy to be the recipient
of their love,
but I am eternally grateful
that you have blessed me
with this gift.
All my love,
Leigh Anne
Leigh Anne, What an inspiring poem to Motherhood. I feel the same. It’s been the best blessing of my life and now, grandchildren. I never knew love could expand and grow so much.
Leigh Anne,
Your poem speaks to so many mothers, the desire, the insecurity, the transitions, all the uncertainty of a role mothers have for life. I know many women who long to be mothers from a young age. I was not one of them. Both my children were the consequence of failed birth control, which have since been removed from the market.
Leigh Anne is back!! So glad to “see” you!
I love this passion poem. Motherhood is indeed a calling and a blessing. Knowing you makes this poem more meaningful because I know how devoted you are.
I especially appreciate how you address the changing roles we take on:
Beautiful imagery throughout – I love the placement of “I felt the butterfly wings” with “just under my heart” to reflect the growing child within. The symbol of flight growing in a contained space is an incredible notion. Also like the acknowledgment without dwelling on “the bad.” It’s like how we teach in argumentative writing, you have to recognize your opponent, but you don’t need to give them too many words. The shift to “grace and guidance” marks time, and I hope for a continuation of this role for many years to come!
Susan, this is an inspiring prompt w/ so many possibilities. I love your poem and it’s myriad notes on school. Your commitment to students is so obvious in your longing to be w/ them always.
Dear TBR
I see you rising like
an irrupting volcano
along Iceland’s ring road,
your spines glowing,
multicolored word flickers
filling my sight,
sparking my imagination.
Sometimes you sputter,
spill, and slide from my
bedside nightstand when
kitty scales your summit and
stretches her lean torso
across your ridge line.
Your range stretches like the
rocky mountains across
western states filling rooms,
closets, online book apps, and
my Libby waitlist.
You’re my Appalachian Trail
extending 2,190 miles or more
if I stack your lines along a
worded plain, a lexicon
footpath my mind traverses.
In you I discover
wanderers
spelunkers
climbers
all those others who
are not lost but found,
in word hoards,
their hearts in
bibliophile
wanderlust,
the seekers
the learners
the noticers
they’re all here.
I see them in
their words &
find myself in
their inked lines,
fresh & faded
tattoos of the mind,
their footprints
imprinted on
my mind,
a trail I hike
through the pages
of each book.
—Glenda Funk
I love your connection to your book pile to the landscape. One of my favorite poems of yours is how you connected writing to gardening. This creates the same emotions and images for me.I love the images of tattoos and footprints! Beautiful!
Glenda, your imagery here, the footprints imprinted on minds, the hiked trail, the ridge line of book spines for cat climbing, love, love, love! And oh, how it rises in such powerful imagery (mine is more of a ebb and flow of beach waves – on occasion, a beached whale). So glad to travel with you and your words today, my friend!
Oh, that pile on the bedside nightstand. Mine is about to topple over. I like how you use the analogy of hiking through the pages as each new book is an adventure.
Love this. I understand this topography on my own nightstand and throughout my house. This extolling of reading and the many miles of “worded plain” validates the joy burbling in the possibility of the “trails” ahead. Delightful and beautiful.
Glenda,
You’re just so dang good! Writing to your TBR list was such a great idea. But, carrying out the metaphor of hiking through them and the earthy words you use to help develop it are really, really good stuff. I love these lines:
Glenda, the TBR pile is quite a hike, and such adventure awaits each step, each page. What a perfect metaphor, this hike – the view is grand as we look out over landscapes we may never physically see but as we read, we’ve been there – we know these places. We have breathed the air and smelled the ground that wafts up from the rain puddles because we read. And the journey is never done with TBR.
Glenda, I love the truth of this: “Your range stretches like the / rocky mountains across / western states filling rooms, / closets, online book apps, and / my Libby waitlist.” There are no flat surfaces in our house just makeshift bookshelves. And these lines had me repeating them aloud: “their footprints / imprinted on / my mind, / a trial I hike / through the pages / of each book.” Thanks!
Glenda — You ol’ book lover you…that stack-o-words and that stack-o-books…how fitting a poem both visually and in images of where those books take you. Even the kitty likes that stack! Keep hiking…your poem is totally fun. My fave: “find myself in/their inked lines”… it is what happens to me in books as well. Thank you! Susie
Susan–your ode to teaching could be mine–even though I have retired, I still love the career and the kids. Thank you for this inspiration.
Dear Clutter,
No matter
how many times
I break up with you,
move you out,
declare our divorce
annul our arrangement,
you come round again
with flowers
and an apology.
“I am so sorry”, you say.
“I can do better!”
And so, like
every gaslighted lover,
I try–One. More. Time.
This time,
I KNOW,
will be different.
We will live in
Harmony, peace, and order.
Always the optimist,
I take you in,
provide shelves for shelter,,
cartons to curl up in,
Cozy corners to hide in,
hangers to hang out on.
But, like the last time
(and all the times before),
you prevaricate,
Your sorrow was a sham.
You outsmart the space,
seep into the room,
congregate on the table,
wash out the dams
I built to contain you.
You devour my best intentions.
Chortling, sniggling,
tittering with glee at the latest victory.
I am at your mercy.
Clutter, you win.
You can stay.
(My children are going to absolutely hate you.)
GJS 2/21/22
Man, I feel this! I love the humor in your poem. It made me smile! Thanks for sharing!
Oh, the absolute snark…what a perfect poem for me to read this morning…shelves to shelter is my fav!
I think I could have written this same letter! Love this!
Gayle, all the big smiles and head nods to you today. Clutter. Ugh. I have long battled with this evasive hanger-on-er. If only something so simple as an annulment could work. My children have their own on-going relationship, built on mutual love, with clutter. And now, I’m off to de-clutter.
My children are going to absolutely hate you.
Great line. I go a little further down the bend of the poem’s future and say, “Sorry they will be so merciless. You have served your purpose and that is enough.”
Gayle,
I can so relate to this poem and I am envious of what your clever brain was able to create. My favorite lines were
Gayle, LOL. Yeah, I’m right there with you. This quote from Albert Einstein gives me a little solace — “If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?” — until, of course, I need to actually find something on my desk.
Gayle — This is totally fun… clutter… holy cow, this resonates. I’m sitting here right now at the table with books, notebooks, folders, pens, pencils, a reference book of Spanish verb conjugations, a big fat novel I have to finish by Wednesday evening, workbooks, kitchen towels, and an empty dish next to my cellphone…clutter…let me tell you about clutter. LOL! No, seriously, you really did a great job with this love letter. Love you poem! Susie
Susan, I feel your love of school deeply and I thank you for the memory of my sister and I playing school at our antique desks my parents had found on a trip east. I was always the teacher. It was meant to be from the beginning. I so appreciate your acknowledgment of the challenge allowing for constant growth. Yet another reason to love what we do.
Dear Words,
a small me
sat
with you
your sounds
formed by
lips
tongue
teeth
a tentative friendship
begun in hesitations
announced
first loudly
then in near whispers
before you burrowed
deep
moved quietly
silently
swiftly
along neural paths
within the
confines of my head
and the galaxies
of my imagination
tiny hands
turning pages
you are a wonder-
weaver
birthing stories
like stars
across midnights
A wonder-weaver! You write a poem
about words and create a whole new one with a metaphor of stories like stars
across midnights that proves exactly that you have a love affair and work magic with words. Such beauty, even in the beginning hesitation with the friendship that would become your lifelong love. That ending is spectacular, Jennifer!
I love this opening:
“a small me
sat
with you”
Perfect imagery for an ode to word.
Kevin
Jennifer,
What a love letter! A friend, a solar system, a mother. All the ways words nurtured and continue to nurture. The physical acts in lips/tongue/teeth offer such possibilities for the “birthing stories.”
Sarah
Jennifer, your lines remind me of Jacqueline Woodson’s memoir Brown Girl Dreaming, when at age three she becomes enamored of words and the letter J which begins her name. Her five-year-old sister says that the words will never end, which to little Jacqueline is “promising me infinity.” Here in your verse, words do the same, in the neural paths of your brain, moving along the galaxies of your imagination – I see this, I know this, I have lived the absolute truth of this. Promising infinity. And oh – “birthing stories like stars across midnights” – utterly gorgeous. You yourself are a wonder-weaver. I savored every line of this. Where would we be without our lifelong love of words??
Bravo, Jennifer! These slender lines describe language acquisition so eloquently then culminate with “like stars across midnights.” Pure genius.
Jennifer,
I just read Leigh Anne’s poem and find her poem on motherhood a fitting companion for your poem’s idea of words as “mothers,” something that is “birthing stories.” I’m inspired to think of the possibilities.
Ohhhh how I love this:
You captured the essence of the power of words so well. I concur with it all!! #wordlover #calledtoteach
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Ha! Jennifer, you and I were on the same pathway today! I just posted my piece and scrolled to find you too were smitten by words. Wonderful images here…”galaxies/of my imagination”…mmm-mmm. And I love “like stars/across midnights.” I might have to steal that. Love this. Susie
Susan, your students are blessed to have a teacher who truly enjoys what she does! Your experience, your longevity of commitment that all began in your earliest days tells the story of your passion for teaching. I connected with you in so many places, particularly the early call to teach – playing school in the backyard with a rudimentary chalkboard nailed to a post and as many special pens and worksheets I could gather to teach the stuffed animals. The exasperation and frustration lines also stuck with me – because what is passionate love without those feelings?? You are blessed to love what you do as much as you do! I love to travel, so today my dear ___ passion led me to the never ending love of experiencing a place for the first time.
Dear travel, you keep
me looking forward to our
next planned rendezvous!
Rockport last fall break
Salem witches, Gloucester whales
hopeless wanderlust…..
San Antonio
and Texas Hill Country this
break……where to next? -Me
Kim, you and I are kindred spirits, forever connecting through words and a shared love of so many things. I almost wrote about traveling today. It’s near-spring and my mind turns to my need for new places, the wanderlust (once treated as an illness, what??!!) calling me. Where to next, indeed!
Oh, Kim. I long for your travel photos on the Facebook and hope this poem wish of wanderlust brings wonderful next.
Sarah
Once again, Kim, your haiku flow, unforced, pure, cascading so naturally from one line to the next. There are SO. MANY. PLACES I want to visit. And I want to see those whales! I will be awaiting your next adventures, to enjoy them vicariously through your clear, strong lines of poetry or prose, which are always alive and which always draw me in. Not to mention the revelations to come along the way!!
Kim,
I love your thirst for adventure and seeing new places. Wording it as travel is your friend that you are going to rendezvous with really works! The succinct way you capture your last trip and your next one lead to me thinking that you could go back and write a similar three-line stanza for each trip you’ve taken. You’d have quite a cool, catchy travelogue.
I think you must feel as I do that travel is a needed break when teaching. When we have so much curiosity about life and want to pass it on to others, the only way is to travel and absorb all the new information about the world. Yes, hopeless wanderlust.
Kim,
I’ve followed your travels on FB w/ a little envy. San Antonio is in my bucket list and an upcoming destination this summer on a road trip w/ some friends. I have a list of possible destinations and fill Pinterest boards w/ places I long to visit. We are kindred spirits, and I can’t wait to see where you go next.
Hi Kim,
I soooo long to travel again! I’ve resisted even though social media makes me believe I can do it if everyone else can. LOL, not quite ready for an airplane. I love your poem and I hope you get to run freely faraway soon!
❣️
Kim — I can’t wait to read the poems that will come from Texas Hill Country… Whoohoo! Take that keyboard with you or that journal! Susie
Susan – I first watched Kobe’s video of “Dear Basketball” shortly after he died. It is profoundly moving, an expression of gratitude for life’s gifts and for the gift of life itself. It inspired me to write a letter to Writing, which I am attempting to revise here in poetic form (still needs work…). I adore your epistolary poem to School, from your huge crush and how you kept coming back for more, even to acknowledging it isn’t for everyone. Thank you for this bright poetic spark today – for love is laced with deep gratitude, and therein lies incomparable transformative power.
Dear Writing,
It is time to tell you
how much you mean to me
for it is more
than ever before.
Let me begin
at the beginning
when you first materialized.
I was, what, about six years old?
I wonder now whether I discovered you
or you discovered me
sitting there at the coffee table
in the living room,
wide-ruled paper in front of me,
a fat pencil in my hand.
All I know is that it began with story.
A pull
a beckoning
a desire
to get what was swirling inside me
onto pages.
By some great alchemy
my blocky letters
erratic spelling
rudimentary sentences
ceased to be merely themselves;
combined, they became something
distinctly Other.
And there you were.
Almost a living, breathing presence.
I didn’t know then
that you’d come to stay
that as I grew
you would grow with me.
That you would, in fact,
grow me,
always pulling me to more.
To think more
explore more
discover more
strive more
play more.
To be more.
Do you remember the diary
Grandma gave me for Christmas
when I was ten or eleven?
The front cover adorned
with an illustration of a little girl
trimmed in pink
complete with brass lock and tiny key.
Do you remember this entry:
I wrote a story and
I hope it will be published…
whatever happened to that diary—?
To that story?
They’re lost in time.
No matter.
I can see that page in my mind to this day
—is it you that keeps this memory alive?
People began to notice our relationship
early on, didn’t they.
Teachers said we were a good thing
and offered tips
on how we could be stronger.
Friends and family told me
to stick with you:
Please keep writing.
I owe them all
for how they shaped
you and me.
Where would I have been without you
in my teenage years?
In the early days
of my marriage?
Those were the poetry years
the journal years
when you let me glimpse
the beautiful inside the uncertain
when you compelled me
to pour out my heart.
You were bigger than
my anguish
my anger
my fear.
You channeled it all,
absorbed it all.
Ever how circuitous the path
how violent the storm
how steep the mountain
how dark the night
how deep the pain
you were there
leading me
to safety
to calm.
Even now, I reach for you
and you are there.
Like the ocean
you bring forth
unexpected treasures
and healing.
When my emotions
and energy are spent
washed clean away,
you reveal over and over
one thing
that always remains:
Hope.
For there’s always more
to the story
to the ones that I create
to the ones that I live.
I think that’s perhaps
the most important lesson
you’ve taught me:
This chapter of life is ending.
A new one is about to begin.
Embrace it.
This is but one
of your extraordinary powers.
Then there is
your amazing ability
to mine my memory…
With you I am any age I ever was.
I sit on my grandfather’s lap once more.
He walks with me, holds my hand.
I hear his voice.
I am in Grandma’s kitchen
while steam fogs the windows
I am in her arms
as she rocks me and sings:
Jesus loves me, this I know…
I see my father’s blue eyes
I hear my mother’s laughter
and the whir of her sewing machine
late into the night.
With you my children are still little
my husband is young
black-haired
healthy
whole
and out on the court
shooting hoops.
And every dog I ever loved
comes bounding back to me
in absolute joy
all my shortcomings
forgiven.
With you, I relive it all.
The parts I am proud of
and the parts I’m not
the moments I cherish
and the ones I survived.
With you, they all become
a celebration
of living,
of learning.
I learned long ago
that I can harness your power
to attack
but you showed me
that this doesn’t bring me peace.
You taught me, instead,
to defend.
Not as a warrior
with drawn sword
but as a careful guardian
of my own mind and heart.
Not by destroying
but by edifying.
You enable me to walk
in another’s shoes
and see through another’s eyes
to understand that fighting
doesn’t move the hearts of others
but story does.
There’s something
of the divine about you.
Marvel of marvels
how a spark
in the human brain
becomes a thought
and a thought becomes substance
because of you.
Like something from nothing.
Ex nihilo.
It’s how God created,
speaking the world into existence.
With words.
Without limits.
Anything is possible.
Believe.
I believe there’s a sacredness
behind the human spirit’s desperate craving
to create
to express
to be heard…
which brings me back
to six years old
at the table
pencil in my hand.
You will outlive me.
You are my record.
You are what I leave behind.
Let it be the best of me.
Know that you’re an inextricable part
of who I am,
one of my life’s greatest gifts.
Meant to be given.
And so I give you away.
I am grateful beyond words.
I love you.
Fran
Fran, I think of this, often:
“You will outlive me.
You are my record.
You are what I leave behind.
Let it be the best of me.”
And wonder where all our words might eventually go, or not go, when written now in digital …
Kevin
Fran, this is YOU! Of all your poems I have ever read and loved (and you know I love them all), this is the one that speaks so much about the roots of you.
It’s true….your writing is still
something
distinctly Other.
And there you were.
Almost a living, breathing presence
but my favorite lines are
With you I am any age I ever was.
and
and a thought becomes substance
because of you.
Like something from nothing.
Ex nihilo.
It’s how God created,
speaking the world into existence.
With words.
Without limits.
Anything is possible.
Believe.
This is your magnum opus of the essence of who you are, right to the very core.
Fran, thank you for taking us along your writing journey, for showing us the glimpse of the beginning and the development of the then to now. So many lines resonate but I especially appreciate the “And so I give you away.” You gift us with every poem, with every word. I know that when I land upon your words, I have found a home, a place to return, again and again. Beautiful!
Fran,
You have created a beautiful homage to what writing is to you, writing in so many forms for so many reasons. You trace it from itty-bitty on in such an engaging way. This poem will be a treasure for you forever! I love so much of it, but the part that sticks out the most, both meaning and sound is
You envelop everything writing is and can be into this poem. I don’t even think I can list a favorite line because every line spoke to me in one way or another. But I think these lines are what I am currently living. This is absolutely beautiful!
You will outlive me.
You are my record.
You are what I leave behind.
Fran, Fran, Fran!!!!!! I am sitting here completely captivated by this love letter to writing. As I read, I started highlighting favorite lines then realized I was about to highlight the whole darn poem. Beautiful, heartwarming, honest and deep! I believe any of us who have been writing since we were little babies will recognize themselves in your poem. Truly remarkable.
I’ll settle on this as a favorite of favorites because I love believing that writing is more than pen to paper, fingers to keys:
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Fran — You gave us a writing in a full dose and we are better for it. I particularly liked the nostalgic tone of the diary from grandma. Keep writing! Your words will out live all of us. Susie
Dear Bookmark Bar,
I’ve curated you with blue stars,
dragged files and folders into
& out of queue visibility:
Critical Love holds names
of YA readers, a welcome
letter to love in lit and life.
Syllabi contains 4313 &
4194 in motion, 4713 & 4473
in becoming alongside 5813.
Research carries collaborations,
questions, version twos & threes
of methodologies & citations.
Zoom, Facebook, Jamboard
Dashboard, Library, Bookstore–
& at the bottom F&F, a book
waiting in the queue for her next chapter.
Thank you, BB–
Sarah
The opening of “I’ve curated you” caught my attention, Sarah, and the active motion of doing something, curative, and annotated, and artistic … Yeah … I like that, and where the poem goes “waiting in the queue for her next chapter.”
Kevin
Sarah – indeed, what would we do without Bookmark Bar? I owe it a debt of gratitude myself! It’s priceless. I feel I can see your screen with the ponderous collection of tabs, testimony to the infinite tools and depths required for teaching and also to the love of it.
Sarah, you are a curator indeed – and we are blessed by your ability and passion to curate. The Bookmark Bar is only part of what you curate – space like this one that so many of us consider our oxygen is another curation that becomes our inspiration. The name of the place I am
staying this week is called Blue Star, and your blue stars grabbed me right away! I came here to read, to write, to sightsee, to experience….to curate!
Sarah, I had so much fun thinking about variations of a Bookmark Bar (the offering of bookmarks resting atop a bookshelf that my students sift through when taking a new book, being able to order books after hours…) that I spent far longer in your opening line than I intended, gratefully and gladly. I love the idea of dragging things in and out of “queue visibility,” which you return to so beautifully in the book waiting for her next chapter. We will happily wait with you.
Oh, Sarah . . . your title yanked me in and how me so curious as to what a bookmark bar was going to be, not even considering the technology application of the term. You do such a great job of showing us how you curate. I’m feeling very compelled to organize my bookmark bar in a more informative and enticing way. The line that intrigues me the most is:
Sarah – I’m chuckling at how incredibly organized this is. What a Bookmark Bar you have! Holy cow! You rule! Susie
(This came out a lot longer than I thought it would. – Kevin)
Dear Martin,
I’ve known you now
nearly longer than
anyone, other than my dad,
who gifted you to me
when I was young, told me,
play well, have fun
When the repairmen
at the music shop learn
of you, they marvel at
an old Martin, like you,
a rare saxophone of renown,
a bell with a soft jazz sound
I’ve carried you on stage
and you’ve carried me through
band concerts and live shows,
and gave me a way to discover notes
when I lost it in rock and roll
You’ve been bent, my friend, and
broken, too, and filled with breath
and spit, and you’ve listened
as I’ve spoken in whispers to you,
and never complained,
not even in those years I quit
and now, I sit, writing in wonder,
that you, Martin, have sung
my life with me, a tenor sax
with unique tone, my faithful
friend in harmony
Kevin,
First, “have sung/my life with me” — that is a beautiful line.
And this stanza
The intimacy here is in the “spit” but also in the knowing and trust between you and Martin.
Thank you for this privilege of witnessing,
Sarah
Kevin, I can hear the music as I read the words. I wish I had continued in piano and clarinet like my mother tried and tried to get me to do. You have a faithful friend who has sung life with you, and that is a rare gift!
Kevin,
“a bell with a soft jazz sound”
I can hear it
feel it
Kevin, your lines move me deeply, in part because my youngest son, the family musician, started out with the sax. Alto to bari. Precious Martin, faithful friend, well-loved and loving in return…a treasure of a poem. So thankful he’s still with you.
Kevin,
I love how you personify your saxophone. I see it as a lifelong friend/companion because of the way you describe it. I even get sad for it in these lines:
Kevin, your words are rich with the companionship of a dear friend, the Martin. My son-in-law has a treasured Martin ukulele hanging on his wall near his desk. I long to become its friend as well. The sounds Martin can sing out are more melodious than others.
Kevin – I was totally fascinated by this poem. At first I thought it was a Martin guitar (I have a Martin guitar), but I remembered that you played a horn. So, I looked up the Martin sax…and wow! You have a vintage Martin saxophone! No wonder the love letter! 🙂 My favorite lines:
That’s just love letter material right there! Lovely. Susie