Welcome. All are welcome to participate in the 5-day Open Write — from one day to all days, depending on your schedule. There are no set rules for the length of a poem, and you are free to modify or reject the prompts as you wish, allowing you to write whatever is on your mind or in your heart. We firmly believe that the best writing instructors are actual writers, and this platform offers a supportive environment for you to nurture your writing journey. Just scroll down to share your poem in the comment section. For more information about the Open Writes click here.
Our Host: Amber Harrison
Amber lives in Grove, Oklahoma where she teaches English Language Arts at Grove High School. She serves as the sponsor for International Club: this past summer, Amber traveled with students on adventures across Japan; and this upcoming summer they will go to Venice, The Alps, and Paris. Amber is also an instructional coach for the First Class Teacher Induction Program – virtually engaged in coaching cycles and conversations on classroom management and instructional practice with second- and third-year teachers across Oklahoma. Amber promotes life-long learning for all people
Inspiration
In middle school a new student arrived – Kristen. I was always with my nose in a book. I didn’t write much; I sketched to express and reflect. Whatever time is more than always, that’s how often Kristen read. She wrote: expressive, reflective. One of my favorite childhood friends is now paving big ways in literature as the director at Sarabande Books. This press also hosts free online workshops on micro-writing and art in zine form during lunchtime on Fridays – ZINE LUNCH! Look at that: reading, writing, art! These independent passions are still with Kristen and me after all these years.
Process
I familiarized myself with Chia-Lun Chang in preparation for her upcoming ZINE LUNCH! workshop. I ended up finding another non-profit organization supporting poetry – Brooklyn Poets. What I noticed about several of their interviews of poets was filling in the blanks of the first stanza of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”. Each poet approached filling in the blanks differently, uniquely.
Today, I invite you to fill in the blanks in these lines by Whitman, or create and refill blanks of a stanza by another poet of your choice (this could be a time when you fill in the blanks expressively or reflectively in zine form):
I celebrate ,
And what I you ,
For every ___________ me as good
_______ you.
Original lines by Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
Amber’s Poem
“Song of Kristen”
I celebrate birthday scavenger hunts,
And what I traded for a paperclip you wagon-wheeled
a heavy, wooden, replaced medicine cabinet,
For every moment a word-lust contemporary –
your hours then with me as good
as now when I hear from you.
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.
Hi Amber,
Life was lifin’ on Wednesday and I didn’t get to write. I am one who does not like to miss so I don’t mind posting late knowing that no one will likely see it. Thank you for hosting and thank you for teaching me a fun new activity!
I celebrate when life is easy like summer mornings
And what I don’t want to do is burden you,
my teacher-busy-too-many-tabs-open brain.
For every book unread or plan unwritten by me
is just as good as boarding a plane
bound for the islands
where warm water and waves
call you home.
I live this life; thank you for capturing it. The too many tabs open brain is key. Many of my currently open literal tabs are me trying to fly to summer cheaply over spring break.
I celebrate the moments, and sing of moments,
And what I assume is hidden in other moments I celebrate too,
For every moment in truth belongs to me and you.
Love the mysterious feeling this brings me.
I was late posting so I’m also late commenting.
😀
I love your tribute to your friend, those last two lines solidifying that core of your long-standing friendship. Thanks for the prompt- I was going to celebrate my cleared up cold, but I was inspired by your friendship poem.
To Lauren
I celebrate my friend around the corner from my childhood home
and what I tell you, you know not to tell your mom who will tell my mom, they know enough already!
For every deeply embarrassing story I save to tell you, reframed as comedy, (as the bee caught in my pants with the baby napping in the carrier, and I waddled home, silently crying in pain, but laughing at the thought of telling you about flinging my pants on the porch)
as good as the story of daily adventure you save for me.
Hi, Emily! Celebrating friends is fun.
Your poem brings me back to playful memories in the neighborhood. The phrase: “they know enough already!” made me chuckle now more than I would have then because I now live in both the keep-this-a-secret-from-my-mom AND the mom worlds.
I hope you find playful memories still to write more celebrations of your friendships. Friends are so good to have.
Thank you for hosting today Amber. This is something very different for me…and I enjoyed it! I need to read more Walt Whitman. Your line “And what I traded for a paperclip you wagon-wheeled
a heavy, wooden, replaced medicine cabinet” was a very stark visual-I could see the images in my head, an odd visual, but it worked! I love your title as it honors Kristen, who must be a very special person. We all deserve a song.
I prepared for this earlier, but am not just getting to it. I’m glad I waited because I found a reason to write. My inspiration for today’s poem came from my stylist. I rarely get my hair “done” and I promised myself I would do better this year. Not only do I pay for the service, but she loves to throw in some truth as well. My soul is fed and my hair is laid.
I celebrate the simple fact that she took care of my hair today,
And what I loathe most is another’s livelihood,
For every insight gained by conversation with me is as good as a Baptist minister’s sermon because I hear the truth from you. Can I get an amen?
Amen! I love those conversations, and I love the comparison to the sermon. I feel that hair stylists observe a lot of different people and can have insight to give as well as care. Love this and glad you’re enjoying it! I enjoyed this tribute.
Yes Emily, this is the perfect statement! You definitely have to be a people person and have the personality to have this occupation. And thank you, I enjoyed writing it. We go to the same church so the meaning is much more clearer.
Amen!
I’m so happy to meet you in this space, Jessica! And I’m even more happy that you found inspiration for your poem while also enjoying to write in a different way. A fed soul and laid hair has got to have you feeling like you are unstoppable and on top of the world. Nothing is impossible now!
It’s nice to meet you as well Amber. And thank you for the reminder. After today I needed to see this again!
Jessica,
Nothing like a stylist’s time and stories! Amen!
Most definitely Stacey Joy!!
Thank you for this prompt. I was having some repair work done at my house today. And surprisingly it went smoothly and without any more cost. This is not typical in a house built in 1929. I realized that happiness when the repairs were successful. So I decided to honor the electrician and his work with these words.
Song of An Electrician
I celebrate your knowledge and handiness, my electrician,
and your mastery with which you returned lighting to a 1929 house.
For every click of the switch illuminates happiness
as good thanksgivings cast upon your name.
Cathy, consider sending this to the person who did the work or to the company who hired him. Learning how satisfied customers are. Have been, will serve both well when a day comes when one is not as pleased as you are, though they did their best.
And, regarding the poetry … you click of the keys illuminates the satisfaction you feel and your skill as a poet. Thaks for sharing.
Oh, you had me at electrician, Cathy.
The possessive pronoun “my” creates such intimacy here. And the “for every click” is a lovely noticing of the good.
Sarah
Cathy,
Your poem, especially your fist line, reminded me of my grandfather who learned to become an electrician while working in a lumber camp. I always admired his ability to fix things.
Thanks for reminding me of my grandfather.
First, wow–a 1929 house. You MUST have a birthday party for it in 2029. I love how you make real life seamless to your poetry here. “Every click illuminates” is wonderful. And, it can mean more these days.
Yes, this is indeed a celebration – “every click of the switch illuminates happiness.” Love that! We have an ‘oldish’ house – 1939…it is wonderful to have repairs done by the experienced.
I love this celebration. My home was built in 1927. Always surprises, usually not cheap or smooth! Love the last line. I understand that gratitude!
Cathy, I’m with everyone here, this was a joy to read! And I’m glad the repairs “went smoothly and without any more cost”!
I love the tribute, it’s like you never notice how great something is until it stops working and gets restored. You captured this and managed to get some great imagery of the house and the clicks in a few lines. Walk would be proud!
You’re welcome, Cathy!
And what a great thing — “for every click of the switch illuminates happiness” and that it went smoothly.
I am also going to hope to remember that you wrote a poem about this. I saw a student in town that I had several years ago in class and he said he’s thinking of becoming an electrician. I asked him why not and encouraged him to just go for it. Why wait? If I see him again, I will have this as another nudge. Electricians who know what they are doing and handy are something to be thankful for indeed.
Oh yes please share this with him. We will always need electricians and other tradesmen. My nephew is an electrician. I hope my words help him see the way to share his talents with the world.
Such a little-big happy thing to celebrate! And I like how you merge the idea of the switch illuminating with praising the electrician’s name in the second half of your poem. Thanks for sharing!
Amber, Reflecting on James Weldon Johnson’s song, “Lift Every Voice and Sing”, and modeling Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”, I was surprised how few words I had to change to make the song of both men seem to be about me! My words are bolded, the rest are from first four stanzas of the Whitman poem.
A Song to Myself and Family
I celebrate my family, and sing songs of joy,
And what I presume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I question often, but invite and accept other’s input.
I love having time, now for observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,
I, now in my seventies in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance, as a retiree, I now mentor
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Speak without cheek with original energy fueled by family.
Anna, thank you for sharing this. I think what I have learned more and more is that we can connect with others on vast levels through written language…and that it’s nice to know others know what we know. Sometimes we can feel alone, but in reading what others write, I have found that I am not alone afterall.
I enjoyed seeing the words you changed. As you said, it was that many. I think that emphasizes the commonalities between all of us as human beings. People focus on the differences so much but we share so much too.
How beautiful! Love those “oom” sounds in the beginning. The feeling of being rooted in people and place is strong.
The bold italics work so beautifully here, Anna – I really love how Whitman’s “My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,” fits in so well.
Thank you for sharing Anna. What a great marriage of these two, a song and a poem. Your words reflect the importance of family and identity. Your line, “I love having time, now for observing a spear of summer grass” reminds me that as I age (if the Lord says the same) I can pause, reflect, and enjoy my time taking time. I can never get it back so I might as well waste it on something good.
I really liked this window into your world, the allusion to the spear of grass, and how observing those small things led to an observation of the atoms in the blood and air are a part of you. The deep ties to family and
land are beautifully done. Always awed by your flowing use of figurative language.
Renisha
after Hughes and McKay
America feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat with her hungry teeth, until
I can’t breathe, I will confess
I love this cultured hell
that tests my strength and spirit.
I am the darker sister
the hard boiled daughter of
Harriet
and Sarah
and Ethel
and Founder
and Rosa
and Michelle
and Kamala
I find strength in the
kitchen
cookin’ and
cleanin’
like the foresisters
Sent as punishment
I find vigor in the flow
like tides of blood
standing erect against
screams for Mama Africa
Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.
Righteous anger fills me still
I stand within her walls with not a shred
Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.
Like Martin, and Kendrick…Cori got a dream
I see the might and granite wonders there,
at the table when company comes
No one dares deny
the sun kissed beauty
Ashamed they ignored
I, too, am America
Renisha–the power flows out of this poem in waves. Beautiful!
Wow! This is incredibly powerful. Do I have permission to share this? I am a tour director in Washington D.C. and New York City for students. And I would absolutely love to read this poem with some of my commentary as we tour these cities…especially when we see the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial…because our work here is unfinished! Feel free to be in touch. I’d love to collaborate and maybe even get an audio file of you reading it for me to play. amharrison at ridgerunners dot net
Wow! This was fierce!
Lyric, every line of your poem is so powerful. It’s impossible to choose a favorite phrase or line. Wow.
Renisha, I can feel you, Sis. Langston Hughes poems have been favorites for years and the way you use his lines to speak for you reminds me of the value of reading and realizing that all in all, we are alike … even when of different genders. As, as you’ve alluded, those born sun-kissed often are shunned by those seeking to sun to get some color!
Renisa, the imagery of kitchen references builds a strong connection to how some share love, laughter, and tears in the kitchen. It’s a place not only to cook, but to heal. Your lines, “the hard boiled daughter of
Harriet
and Sarah
and Ethel
and Founder
and Rosa
and Michelle
and Kamala” shows strength and resilience, a soft core under a hard shell. These are our leaders who have fought and are still fighting for freedom, for peace, for equality. Thank you for sharing.
You make me curious to look up McKay. I like the power in I find strength in and I find vigor in… each line was powerful.
Song of Cinnamon
I celebrate the bark of trees
gathering rains in Sri Lanka’s low hills
And what I once added to
margarined Cream of Wheat,
a pinch of powder brews with
french roast beans now,
For every sip, I wonder of
the antis in oxidant & inflammatory,
welcome the free in radicals
and aromas to repair harms
chronic in body, acute in heart.
Sarah–cinnamon in Cream of Wheat is still one of my favorite breakfasts! I think coffee with a touch of cinnamon have the power to heal almost anything, chronic or acute…
Sarah, I especially like the lines: “For every sip, I wonder of / the antis in oxidant and inflammatory” because these are things I now think about, too. How funny that it was not the things I thought of so many years ago. I appreciate your words in this space today that make me ponder the act of aging. I think I like the idea of something from my younger years helping to bring me back to then, but still live in the now.
I can really relate to your words. I have been paying much closer attention to antioxidants, vitamins and the foods I ingest lately. I am trying to fuel my cells to healthier living. May healing and health come to both of us.
Sarah,
I love the geography in your poem, the way it compels me to smell bark and breathe in its woody aroma. I did not know cinnamon has medicinal benefits and would love to rational eating a cinnamon roll, but I should stick to the pinch of cinnamon in my coffee. I particularly like the way you shave “antis,” the not from some words and read that as permission. There’s so much depth to your poem reminding me there’s nothing a poem cannot do.
Oh, what an amazing taste of cinnamon, and I smell it too in your lines of verse here. The sensory feelings in your words today leaves me longing for Cream of Wheat with cinnamon. Margarined. With coffee…..you have me making my next grocery list.
Song of Cinnamon! Oh, I can totally relate – I love cinnamon in everything. I’m smitten with the wondering of ‘antis’ here –
Amber,
This is a fantastic prompt for our last day together. Your poem is a lovely celebration of friendship. My poem emerged unexpectedly. I’d planned to write a celebration of my water bottle, but my brain had other ideas in mind.
Song of Nex Benedict
I celebrate Nex Benedict and
their nonconformity in a
place where politicians
define human as
one gender biological sex
fits all, where hate-filled
anti-LGBTQ+ laws rule.
And as looking away
sanctioned their brutal
beating in their
school—a place of protection—
I decry and seek
justice for them, for
all nonbinary learners.
For every child whose
one precious life bullies
rent from our classrooms
cries for mercy from
me and from all entrusted to
love you as good as all
children given to our care.
Glenda Funk
The WaPo article below is a decent and accurate account of events. Make no mistake: Nex’s death is the result—at least in part—of Ryan Waters’s hateful rhetoric.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2024/02/21/oklahoma-teen-lgbtq-nex-benedict-died/
Glenda, thank you so much for sharing this — and your lovely tribute to Nex — with us. So heartbreaking — my heart goes out to Nex’s family and to the family of the other student who was a victim of this.
Glenda–oof. So much sad truth here.
“And as looking away
sanctioned their brutal
beating in their
school—a place of protection—”
We continue to fail our children by looking the other way.
Glenda, thank you! I think this is what this space is for, to open it up for what wants to come out. I’m saddened by hatefulness. I notice your use of hyphens and how it brings emphasis to the idea of school and protection. I find that to be effective and thought provoking. I wish it was the case…that schools could be a space of feeling protected for ALL.
Oh, Glenda, how many hearts need to be broken before we make a way for all. “For every child whose / one precious life bullies / rent from our classrooms…” Yes, cries for mercy for all of them. Beautiful poem, and I especially like the title today.
Oh, Glenda.
I read a half dozen news reports yesterday about this exploring the languaging of identity across the reports and noticing the treatment of the hate crime.
What powerful poem you have here to comment (and in doing so name and illuminate) the policies that directly harm our youth.
one precious life bullies
rent from our classrooms
cries for mercy from
These words “bullies/rent” and “cries for mercy from” are stunning phrases that call for action.
Thank you,
Sarah
Glenda, this makes my heart beat faster and sweeter. I’m so sorry that there are such haters in our world, people who drive others to desperate measures. This breaks my heart but I see the hope in your last lines here.
Glenda, thank you for this poem. The news is heartbreaking, and, as a human being, I refuse to justify such violence, especially in schools, where children are supposed to be safe. Your determination to demand justice is powerful.
This is so profound, Glenda. Thank you for celebrating Nex Benedict. The hate in our society, that we are perpetuating with our children, generation after generation, makes me tremble. This really cuts deep in me – the role of adults in such hate:
I celebrate your new life growing inside
your mama,
my daughter,
but I also worry of the future long after I’m gone,
What I have wasted, you shall inherit,
For every generation has made
only a fruitless effort
to be caretakers of Earth
for you.
Amber, thank you for this interesting prompt. I am going to try it more often. It seems a helpful thing to use the poet’s sentence structure.
Love these sentiments, Denise!
Denise,
These are my thoughts, too. We love those grand babies but worry about what we’ve bequeathed them.
Every grandmother’s lament…
You’re welcome, Denise!
Wow! The line: “What I have wasted, you shall inherit,” got me thinking about my connections as a link between my parents and my sons. What changes can I make, what changes do I make, and what changes make it?
Lovely, Denise. This contrast structure offers such perspective in so few words and also serves as a confessional of sorts, holding “I have wasted, you shall inherit” as a collective statement that resonates with me.
And congratulations!
Sarah
Your line “What I have wasted, you shall inherit” really stood out to me. Isn’t it true that we wish we would have done better for future generations. Maybe that generation will be the changemakers for the world. Congratulations!
Denise, you throw it out there, this worry about our future generations and what they will inherit. I read Chief Seattle’s message regularly in my favorite picture book by Susan Jeffers, and I worry too that my grandchildren’s children will not see the countryside daffodils blooming in random places. These bring me such joy, and my hope is that they will see them. Congratulations on your new little life…..such excitement!
Love your poem and concerns about the future, beginning with your loved ones and moving to taking care of Earth, Denise! I wish we could be better caretakers.
Denise, I agree with you that I also worry about the future my grand daughter will inherit from my generation. May it not be as fruitless as we imagine.
Congratulations, again, grandmother!! How beautiful. There is nothing sweeter than “new life growing inside” … have faith, these littles will change this world for the better. I must believe.
Denise, I love how your lines build upon each other, like a foundation. These lines strike me as a harsh truth: “What I have wasted, you shall inherit,
For every generation has made
only a fruitless effort
to be caretakers of Earth
for you.”
I look at our future generation and shake my head. I hope it’s not too late to save them. And even more so, to retrain the previous generation (mine) so they don’t continue to make the same mistakes. Thank you for sharing.
Brush your Breath
Brush your Breath
Brush your Breath
With Toothpaste
(seriously, using
gum is just dumb)
_______________________
Rage, rage against Kmart’s Blue Light!
_______________________
Stopping by Walmart’s on a Snowy Evening.
_______________________
To Online Shop, or not, that is the question
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of Black Friday
Or to take arms against a sea of customers
And by opposing end them. Electric Griddle
Or Cabbage Patch Doll, no more;
…………………………………..
The Stanley Aisle, from whose bourn
No customer returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us use those drink tumblers we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of?
_______________________________________________________
Thanks, Amber, I had fun with your prompt! I couldn’t seamlessly fill in Whitman’s blanks as you could – “traded for a paperclip you wagon-wheeled / a heavy, wooden, replaced medicine cabinet” – so I switched gears a bit. I just started riffing and ended with a hodgepodge of (unrelated?) “things.” I don’t, ultimately, think that ole Walt would mind, what with him (and me!) containing multitudes and whatnot, lol.
Scott, love the Stanley mug critique: we just had this discussion in AP Lang class before break — to Stanley or not to Stanley? (Surprisingly — or maybe no — many chose “not.”)
“Stopping by Walmart” Excellent!
Scott, I’m so glad you showed up in verse like you did. I definitely don’t think Wal would mind a bit.
I appreciate the playful joy that overcame me in your first stanza with teeth brushing and gum and the way you use repetition and parenthesis.
Scott – Dentyne was the gum of my childhood; my dad carried it in his pocket; the jingle plunged me back to elementary school (snif). The rest, as always, a smorgasbord of hilarity. Loved every spin!
Amber, I loved your poem — it reminded me of my best friend in high school; we used to write communal stories, passing notebooks back and forth between the two of us. Probably my fondest memory of high school.
So, my daughter took a college class this past semester in Feminist Literary Theory, and her prof was in love with the zine — they created multiple zines as assessments. I figured this was a great opportunity to kill two birds (pun intended) with one stone and play with Canva (a long-intended project) and create a zine. I think I did it?? I used Mary Oliver’s “Starlings in Winter” as a jumping off point for a poem about my daughters. I would love it if someone would let me know if this link to my first zine works! 🙂
https://www.canva.com/design/DAF9cMWHJnQ/Hrp0mEUiNFNQ4v7KBupLhQ/edit?utm_content=DAF9cMWHJnQ&utm_campaign=designshare&utm_medium=link2&utm_source=sharebutton
Success, Wendy! (And happy b-day, by the by!) Cool pictures and I loved the passages, “This wheel of many parts” and “full of gorgeous life”!
Thanks, Scott! The very ending of the poem was Oliver’s — her last few lines fit so perfectly with the flow of the rest of the poem that I had to keep them!
Beautiful zine, Wendy! Your daughters are beautiful with beautiful spirits, as attested to in your poem. “immediately / they are possibility / in the wide world.” Is such a beautiful thought!
(I did notice I was invited to edit, if I logged in. So there’s that, if you care to change the setting.)
Oh! I absolutely love that idea of using Canva as a tool for creating Zines. Brilliant! And I like your jumping off point. The lines about roosting and roiling and further on with obstacles sort of gave me chills. I have two sons and could connect with much of this.
Gorgeous, Wendy!
Yes! The zine is wonderful, and your tribute— beautiful!
A Sick Celebration
By Mo Daley 2/21/24
I celebrate pain, and whine not so silently to myself,
And what I assume you know is,
Every atom stings me, and I secretly wish it belongs to you.
I hate being sick and can relate all too well to “every atom stings me.” Wishing you healthier days.
“Sick Celebration” and “I celebrate pain” are great images that hold our imaginations while we read. Here’s to it leaving you very soon!
Mo, that last line made me chuckle! I’m sorry, though, that you’re under the weather and wish you a speedy recovery if this poem is about you!
Mo, I can relate to telling myself to not whine, silently or not. Then I get on a kick and want to whine to the whole world. Hope you feel better.
Mo, thank you for sharing this. I hope this finds you well, or recovering from your pain in a peaceful way.
I have had much heartbreak and injuries that the last line seeps into my soul a little deep in a way that is healing. The way it is said helps me to identify the preferred placement, but helps me to notice it to work through it in a healthy way for me.
Mo,
Your first phrase had me thinking about the way pain can serve us, can serve humanity in having to be responsive perhaps. Then that “whine not so silently to myself” and then “secretly wish it belongs to you.” That was a twist I didn’t see coming so cleverly and quickly in this one. You had me going back to the title. Ha.
Sarah
Your first three words caught my attention- I celebrate pain. It made me immediately start wondering. Yes you are right- whining is the enjoyable activity when we are coping with pain. I hope you feel better soon.
Oh, Mo, I hope you feel better, and this celebration of pain is very brief.
ugh! Sorry. I just got over my second case of covid. I hate being sick. I feel so “benched” from life. Your poem makes me smile…how there’s that secret wish at the end.
“Every atom stings me…” I am so very very sorry you are not well. That last clause is intense! A surprising twist! I feel anger pulsating through the illness.
Oh Mo! The smoother of believing one is expected to “whine …. silently” seems to add to the pain, especially when “every atom stings” and we are wishing it on to someone else. That’s tough. I do hope the “speaker” of this poem experiences relief that comes from faith and prayer of those who care!
Amber–thank you for this inspiration. It was my friend Kim’s birthday yesterday, and I hadn’t found my poem inspiration for her day. I taught Kim’s son in sixth grade about ten years ago. One day, I stopped into her studio as she was teaching an older woman to tap dance (a birthday bucket-list gift from the woman’d daughter). I had never taken dance lessons (two clumsy and too busy reading). I asked her to start an adult dance class so I could learn to tap. She did, and at 62, I learned to tap dance! In the eight years since, she has talked me into ballet and modern jazz, and has become one of my best friends. This poem is her birthday gift.
For Kim
I celebrate us, and because of you, I dance
while waiting in grocery lines.
And what I have learned is that it’s never too late
to learn to dance or to forge new friendships.
For every smile and new step you gift to me doubles
on its way back to you.
.
I learned to dance at an older age and absolutely love it! I relate to “I dance while waiting in grocery lines.”
What a lovely gift this poem is for your friend, Gayle. She sounds amazing!
Ah, Gayle, what a beautiful gift for Kim. And how special that you are dancing in grocery lines and many places beyond. I love “gift to me doubles / on its way back to you.”
Gayle! What a great story, and I’m totally inspired by your tackling something so tricky! I laughed aqt the image I got from this line:
“I celebrate us, and because of you, I dance
while waiting in grocery lines.”
Joyful words!
Beautiful! Yes, dance while waiting in the grocery lines. I try to do yoga.
Gayle!!! How fun!!! The phrase “and because of you, I dance / while waiting in grocery lines” is so joyful. Kim sounds like a great friend and what a way to keep her close all your life long.
That line “I dance while waiting in grocery lines” just made me smile while reading it. I could just picture it. Such happiness and gratitude comes through your words.
Gayle,
thanks you for sharing this sweet poem of friendship and joy.
This line made me smile;
Love the final image which describes so well the way our friendships spread joy:
Gayle, what a joyous new pursuit! “it’s never too late” – especially when you have a friend to get you out dancing. So great!!
Color
I celebrate color for every rainbow sings to me
as good as a birds whistle –
a song of jubilation
as I assume the hues that make my heart croon
serenade to you.
This prompt was enjoyable. Thank you Amber and thank you to all who have provided prompts this month.
Beautiful. Exudes happiness. Thank you!
“the hues that make my heart croon” is a lovely celebration of colorful birds.
Susan, love the synesthesia that this evoked!
“as good as a bird’s whistle” I love this imagery!
You’re welcome, Susan!
What a fun little poem of color. I especially enjoy how you bring the sense of sound in the poem.
Yes- a rainbow is a song of jubilation! Love that choice of words.
Susan, I celebrate you with you. This week, the art you shared in my poetry book inspired beautiful poetry in the online class I taught this week. It made the student faces just glow as they considered what it would be like to be there! One even wrote that it made him appreciate George Washington Carver! Can you imagine???
Thank you, Amber! This is a prompt my students will love. I am going to try it tomorrow in my Teaching of Writing Class. I love the inspiration and your poem. Birthday scavenger hunts are the best.
Here is my attempt:
Song of Spring
I celebrate spring—
First blooms, rebirth, life, hope—
And what is hidden from my eyes,
You fill in with love and gentle care.
For every nature’s gift I see,
You let me witness more.
Oh yes! I need spring to come with all her greenery and flowers!
Ah, spring! I look forward to the rebirth it brings.
Leilya, Spring is a favorite season of mine, so I appreciated reading this today. Yes, the power of Nature is expressed so well here, what is hidden “You fill in with love and gentle care.” Beautiful.
Leilya, loved the hopefulness of this! As our snow begins to recede her in upstate NY and temps rise, I loved reading this line:
“And what is hidden from my eyes,”
Indeed, can’t wait to see those underground blooms soon!
Leilya,
Im freezing on my couch and need this dose of spring. I cannot wait for those blooms and the hope they bring. Lovely poem.
Leilya–My favorite part–
“For every nature’s gift I see,
You let me witness more.”
I love this!
You’re welcome, Leilya! I’d love to see some of your students’ finished poems to celebrate with them. My email is amharrison at ridgerunners dot net.
I like this little ode to spring. I’m so glad it’s nearing closer and closer. My mood is blooming more with life and hope again.
Amber, I will see what they craft tomorrow and will email you some with their permission.
Leilya, we are preparing for a National Poetry Month list of events in our small town, and this really pops with awakening and blooms and all there is to love about spring. I’ve been reading specifically for the theme of awakening, and I see it here. Thank you!
Kim, we, too, have lots of events planned for April in our department. I always look forward to this poetry extravaganza.
Your nurturing heart shines through every line, Leilya! Love the play on the title borrowing and the deep appreciation of nature. You are singing my song. 🙂
A nature lover am I as well! I love the lines
“You fill in with love and gentle care.
For every nature’s gift I see.”
Leilya, you’ve captured the gentleness of the rebirth in spring in your soft words and gentle handling of this gift. We are seeing signs here (snowdrops blossoming in my neighbor’s yard) so very early. I long to celebrate spring but not quite yet. I’d much rather experience it in your words than an early blooming.
Thank you, Amber, for this fill-in-the-blanks prompt. Thanks to everyone this week, five days of great inspiration.
My youngest is a first year teacher, middle school – this is for him…
First Year Teacher
I celebrate you
your impassioned emergence
and what I am able to see through you
your eyes wide with possibility
for every wild learning tale
the surprise, discomfort, novelty
envelops you as wonder and delight
and envelops me
as hope
yes, please, make this world a better place
Oh what a wonderful poem for your baby boy – now all grow up and making the world a better place, one child at a time!
What a refreshing glimpse into a first year teachers’s passion and delight. I sure hope you share this with him, Maureen!
Teaching is such a hard and undercelebrated vocation. I hope you send this to your child who shares every wild learning tale.
Maureen, I loved, especially, the plea of that last line! With teaching a tough place now, I echo this.
Maureen,
I love your poem and have read it at least half a dozen times already. It truly is a gift to new teachers and the hope they bring to classrooms. I talked to a former student yesterday who is a first year teacher and would love to share your poem w/ her.
Maureen–that last line. Please!
You’re welcome, Maureen! I’m almost crying for joy from your poem for your son. What a thrill it must see to witness him blossom into this field. It’s refreshing to be around new educators that have “eyes wide with possibility”.
Maureen, my hat is off to your youngest. Not for the faint of heart, today’s teaching career, I believe, has more potential to make a difference than any of the previous years combined. I see more needs, or perhaps it’s just my heightened awareness the older I get. Making the world a better place is something I know he will do.
Maureen, this poem relays your joy and pride for your son. It is so great to watch your child’s growth, especially following you in the professional footsteps. Love these lines: “for every wild learning tale / the surprise, discomfort, novelty / envelops you as wonder and delight.”
Thanks, Amber, for this prompt. My mother’s birthday is February 25th. She would have been 102 this year. She was a teacher, artist, and an amazing dress designer. Vivian was my steady hand and loving heart. I miss her every day!
Song of Vivian
I celebrate your smile and artistic hands,
And what I miss most is your wise counsel
For every part of me is part of you.
And now, when I look in the mirror,
I see your smile reflected back to me
And I feel your presence.
Your warm hugs wraps me,
And I can continue my day
Feeling your love and strength.
Joanne, this was a beautiful tribute: loved it!
Joanne, the first word of “artistic” grabbed me and as I read this poem I am reminded of how I feel the presence of my late husband and that I often gets warm hugs from him as well.
Joanne,
A lovely tribute to mentorship lives in your words. And now I’m thinking about my mentors and hoping those I’ve mentored share these sentiments about me.
Joanne!!!! My birthday is also February 25! She sounds like a wonderful woman. I hope this moment found a way to spend some time with her in those holes I’m sure you are left with on this side of grief. Thank you for sharing this with us. And remember, it’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to miss her every day. Hugs.
“For every part of me is part of you” speaks the most to me in your celebration poem of her as a way to capture that love and strength she has left in you.
Joanne, I can relate so strongly to your poem because I, too, have a mother celebrating a Heavenly February birthday. Funny – – I miss that same wise counsel the most. And the older I get, the more I see her in me. I resisted it for so long…..you know, the not wanting “to be” your mother….. now I see it as something to embrace. You give a wonderful tribute to your mother today.
Absolutely beautiful, Joanne. There really is great comfort in recognizing the presence of such a loving parent or grandparent in ourselves – after all, they invested themselves in us. Missing the wise counsel… how many times have I wished to talk to my grandparents or my father again?? Every line you’ve written truly resounds with celebration!
Amber,
thanks for reminding me that it’s been far too long since I read some Whitman. I was intimidated by playing with the vastness of his first stanza, but reading the beginning of his poem, I found a stanza to connect with. Thanks for this playful prompt.
Thanks also to everyone who has shared their writing and feedback this week. I have so enjoyed participating.
The Springs
after Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself
The atmosphere is not urban, it has no taste of the city, it is home to an endangered, elusive, eponymous lungless salamander
It is for my body, my mind and my soul
I am at peace sitting still beside it, admiring it
curious about which birds will visit
as I don my goggles, I pause to text photos to faraway family and friends
I will ride my bicycle along the trail to the springs
I will swim
I will acknowledge
and set aside
quotidian concerns
I will become myself
I am grateful to be in contact with its waters
The regularity
of my own breathe
as I swim its length
as I move myself
over and through
the growing algea
as I seek
and glimpse
fish and turtles
sunrise over my city
as I am
embraced
by Cretaceous limestone
Each morning
I look
to see
how the light
will be
I am at peace
I am restored
I am myself
Beautiful. You took us to the springs and I am at peace. Wish I had more time to sit with your poem and feel fully restored. Thank you!
Sharon, you’re welcome! I was also enlightened to come across Walt Whitman again while working on this prompt. Your lines ” I will acknowledge / and set aside / quotidian concerns / I will become myself” emphasize the need to let the daily thoughts come in, but to also then set them aside and just be you. I like that you have found this peace and restoration for yourself.
Sharon, your beautiful phrasing also brings Mary Oliver to mind. It’s the deep connection to nature – the spiritual quality of it, and definitely the peace. Love this especially: “Each morning I look to see how the light will be” – I know this sensation. The light, it changes, but it’s always there.
Celebrate &
Sing
Together
Every atom
in me
as well
in you.
So I assume.
I like the witty addition and bit of a tonal change in the last line “so I assume” because isn’t that the way it is at times.
Come fill thy blank self
with song
& assume we all shiver,
every atom of mine
with yours
in celebration.
I am Muse(ic)
You are, too
OOOOooo, this is beautiful! Susie
Your poems feel like bookends – this latter, my favorite, with the idea of blank self being filled with song and one’s atoms shivering in celebration. That’s exactly what true celebration feels like.
I love how you shared your connections that led to this enticing prompt. I love a fill-in-the-blank prompt because the stakes are low. I can do this. What fun to have birthday scavenger hunts. Thanks for this accessible prompt. Today is my husband’s birthday.
I celebrate our love and quiet mornings,
when I assume the whole world sleeps
for every word I write as good
to you who forever rests with me.
This is such a beautiful, quiet poem, Margaret.
Beautiful poem, Margaret. Birthday abundance to your husband!
Margaret, “quiet mornings” was the first thing I thought about when reading the prompt this morning. Then I read your poem–beautiful, comforting, peaceful. Thank you!
Margaret, happy birthday to your husband! The quiet mornings while others sleep is the best time for writing, I agree!
So peaceful, Margaret. This poem rests with me today. Ahhh….
You’re welcome, Margaret! I was definitely hoping stakes were at a place that felt most comfortable for each individual. You definitely got this! I like the part “to you who forever rests with me” because it’s endearing.
Happy birthday to your husband!
Amber, the simplicity and complexity of this prompt made it both fun and challenging. It gives me yet another way to appreciate Whitman. I love this glimpse into Kristen and your connection with her. Thank you for sharing with us today.
I celebrate and language words,
And what they speak we shall discover
For every thought belongs to us
Exhales from you – breathes into me
Powerful last line, Jennifer … the give/take of words and ideas
Kevin
Yes, Uncle Walty is simply asking us to pay attention. A big ask if I might add.
You celebrate language and words so skillfully, Jennifer, that I enjoy reading the poems you “breathe” into this space. Thank you!
Jennifer, I love that bonding image at the end especially. Beautiful job of “language[ing] words.” You are so good with finding the right words. Hugs, Susie
Whew, the last like! You’ve captured precisely how I feel right here during Open Write. Stunning, Jennifer! Thank you.
Jennifer, that value of perspective and interpretation is felt keenly here in your words. Celebrating language and words brings images of just the best party ever.
Jennifer,
Reading your poem I celebrate your wordsmithing and the way you honor and celebrate language.
You’re welcome, Jennifer! I’m glad you showed up in this space with your celebration poem. I like the approach of a challenge being fun. And isn’t Whitman a joy!
I like the use of your hyphen to connect the exhaling from the other and the inhaling of you. That speaks of sweetness.
I celebrate the power of simplicity too, Jennifer, as you have illustrated so well here. Thought-breathing…words. Exactly!
Jennifer this is so good! To “language words” and share “every thought” that “[e]xhales from you – breathes into me.” So good!
Thank you for the prompt and a bit of Walt this morning.
I celebrate the song –
the moment it sings itself,
the way it whispers itself free,
as melodic to me, as it is
to you, too
— Kevin
Kevin, “the way it whispers itself free” indeed. Such a powerful and beautiful line.
Out of the cradle, endlessly whispering, singing to me and singing to you.
Kevin — I could make this my prayer…it’s perfect. Thank you! Susie
I would join this celebration of the song when “it whispers itself free,” Kevin. Beautiful!
Kevin, the whispering free of music brings such lovely notes to my ears. I can hear it too, this melody.
You’re welcome, Kevin. I’m glad it was hitting the spot.
Your poem makes me think of a song escaping and I just really really like that approach to thinking of music in a way I hadn’t thought of before.
Love this line especially: “The way it whispers itself free” – the song, like writing, becoming its own breathing entity.
Amber, such a compelling prompt and models. Love the backstory of Kristen and the weaving of memories in your poem, with such alluring concrete images and powerful verbs. Thank you so much for this invitation today.
Here’s my draft thus far:
Grandmothering
I celebrate the immutable now.
And what I pour of myself, you drink – a transubstantiation of sorts, blood-memory in the making.
For every day, in passing, decreases me as good
as it increases you.
Fran, so strange that I’ve never really considered the word immutable and it has appeared twice now within the last month (not really so odd considering the length of time but definitely so as I’ve never really used, or perhaps even noticed, the word and here it is again). The pouring of self, along with the giving of self in the last two lines, speaks to the generosity of being.
Love this: “the immutable now”
Kevin
Here is an explication of your poem by the AI Perplexity. It is, in a way a backfilling in of the lines. I wonder what Uncle Walty would make of it.
Whoa – thank you so much for sharing this and thank AI Perplexity for nailing so much of what lies deep in my poetic heart this day.
Fran, thank you for a poem! I am stuck with the line “blood-memory in the making.” I love how you played with “Bloody Mary” and turned it into such a meaningful family treasure–blood memory.
There are no humans quite like grandparents. I’m holding your poem so tightly as we grieve my grandfather. I also think of my mother who takes her grandmother role to my three boys so seriously and deeply. (Do I have permission to share your poem with her?)
Thank you for this offering, Fran.
Britt, I am honored you would like to share the poem – please do. It’s a mutual gift <3 Praying comfort to you all. I am acutely aware of my grandmother’s love still living in me as I give myself to my granddaughters, as she did. A priceless investment, and an honor. Your mom knows it… as did your grandparents. You and yours are forever precious to them. This I know.
Fran, the blood-memory in the making could be a poem all its own. There is such richness here in the images of pouring oneself into a little one who drinks the cup of family, of legacy, of love, of past, present, and future.
So wonderful! Enough said.
You’re welcome, Fran! It’s so great to meet you with words in this space.
“And what I pour of myself, you drink” speaks to me because it depicts connection in a visible way. I haven’t quite decided if it is sad or happy, but maybe it depends on the point in time of my life I’m thinking of when I read your poem. Thank you for bringing this imagery to mind.
And I appreciate you recognizing the concreteness of my writing. I have been working on that.
Fran,
Such a beautiful, powerful first line.
Amber, thank you for a prompt that is cerebral and engaging, and one that teachers can use to spark some witty and deep poetry from students. This was fun! Thank you for investing in us as writers today. Your poem makes me think there is so much more to this story, and what a simple paper clip can bring! I went in the direction of dog play today.
Stolen Socks
I celebrate stolen socks
And what I tug, you wrangle
For every muscle moved by me as good
as hackles you.
Kim, I know this playtime well! Love the preciousness of the lines for the simple joy they contain. The accompanying photo is just adorable.
Kim, I love that we are offered glimpses of your daily life through your writing (and photo today). It feels like such a gift, something that will be treasured by children and grandchildren for years to come, discovered in a box of writing notebooks (Look! This is what mom/grandma’s life was filled with!). I am so glad to know you through your words.
Ha
Thank you for the light-heartedness of the verse this morning (plus,image!)
Kim — Just the morning smile that ices my cake today. Thank you…and my sweet Rayo (arf) thanks you too. You clearly know us both. LOL! Hugs, Susie
Love your playful poem so much, Kim! It made my morning. Beginning with the title, each word is well chosen: tag, wrangle, hackles. The image is adorable! Thank you!
Love that dog! I can sse and feel this poem!
Kim,
Im always in the mood for dog poetry, and seeing Boo Radley’s lovely fur-face makes me smile. I’m rooting for Boo in the sock wars, just in case you were wondering.
Oh, Kim. Thank you for this picture today to accompany your poem. Made me smile. That like “what I tug, you wrangle” shows such a interdependent relationship that can be read on a couple levels – showing how precious the sock thief can be.
Sarah
You’re welcome, Kim! And yes…a paper clip can get you so much! Try it out, let me know what you end up with.
The added picture is adorable paired with your poem. And the use of the word “hackles” is just so fitting.
Amber, thank you. I love this. What I like about exercises like this is bringing a writer in touch with a “great” or even lesser-known poet. This motivates me to go looking for other poems to use for this activity–which causes me to read closely, to consider…all the things I want students to do with a poem to begin with. Brilliant! And, the pressure to think of everything is removed…we simply stand on the shoulders of someone else for a bit. This is what I can offer middle school students.
I celebrate democracy, and sing of its freedom,
And what I defend you shall shield,
For every choice belonging to me as good belongs to you.
Linda, the whole of humanity is felt here in just a few word choices – what a difference a word makes! Our choices as a nation affect us all. Reminders we need frequently!
So powerful Linda – and your lines flow beautifully.
Now … let’s vote!
🙂
Kevin
Linda, this is perfection! From your lips to all our ears.
Linda, your poem speaks to so many of us! The final line draws a powerful concluding statement. Thank you.
Oh, Linda.
I am so confused about the word democracy these days, and I appreciate the reflection here singing of its “freedom” and as a way of being/doing that needs action. Powerful.
Sarah
You’re welcome, Linda! I’m so glad that you enjoy this and have some ways to expand on it and bring it into the writing worlds of you and your students. Play! Have fun!
Your word “choice” really moved me because it is something I try to remind my own children and also my students…the choice is theirs — what will they choose to do.