Thanks for writing with us this week. We are so grateful for our teacher-hosts: Maureen Young Ingram, Dave Wooley, Tamara Belko, Larin Wade, and Barbara Edler. Please join us in October (19-23) with Scott McCloskey, Stefani Boutelier, Wendy Everard, Seana Hurd Wright, and Donnetta Norris. Be well! Today’s inspiration comes from Barbara Edler.
Barbara Edler is a retired English Language Arts, Speech & Drama, College Composition and TAG instructor. Although she misses the classroom, she keeps busy as The Keokuk Art Center’s Executive Director where she enjoys planning artistic endeavors and hosting artist receptions. She loves to write poetry, flash fiction and more. You can find some of her poetry published in editions of Lyrical Iowa and Grant Wood Country Chronicle, and the books Teacher-Poets Writing to Bridge the Distance: An Oral History of COVID-19 in Poems, The Cities of the Plains: Contemporary Iowa Artists and Poets, 90 Ways of Community and Words that Mend. She’s a firm believer in karma and follows her Great-Aunt Adeline’s advice: “When you’re at the end of your rope, tie a knot, and hang on.”
Inspiration: “For the Sake of Strangers”
This last month has been momentous. On September 2nd, I celebrated with others from Ethical ELA, the publication of three books: Just YA, 90 Ways of Community, and Words that Mend. As some of you may know, I came to VerseLove in 2020. A truly difficult time for all of us. I was personally struggling to reach students to complete the work they were expected to produce to graduate or to receive a passing grade. This was also my last year at a high school I had taught at for thirty years, and I felt isolated and conflicted, while still reeling with grief after losing my son the year before.
Fortunately, I found this incredible poetry community where I could write and read poems. I could share both my pains and joys. More importantly, I witnessed the power of a positive writing community. Ethical ELA was truly my saving grace, and I will always feel indebted to my supportive virtual friends who have celebrated my poetry with kind and supportive words, and especially to Dr. Sarah Donovan who has made this space possible. Her leadership is deeply inspiring.
Recently, I read Dorianne Laux’s poem “For the Sake of Strangers,” Her poem spoke to me on a very personal level. It shares how strangers have the power to keep one going, just as the amazing Ethical ELA community has done for me. So, today, I invite you to write a poem about the beauty of this community, the joy of writing poetry, or to write a poem that you feel compelled to compose because you want this community to read it. The door is wide open, step right in.
Process
- Brainstorm a list of topics that you might want to focus your poem on today. Observe the world around you. How is a stranger or loved one impacting your life? What are you most passionate about? What is driving you crazy? Choose one of your topics or an emotion you are currently experiencing and jot down a few more details to capture its essence.
- Consider the voice you want to use. Is it your voice or someone else’s voice? Include the language the speaker would use.
- Read a writing prompt from Words that Mend or 90 Ways of Community that you would like to respond to today. (Both books are free to download from the Ethical ELA website.)
- Select one of your favorite poetry forms. Do you want to write a Golden Shovel poem, a haiku, a duplex poem, a cento, pantoum, triolet, or free verse?
Barb’s Poem
“Blessed by Strangers”
Inspired by the Ethical ELA Community
No matter how bad my poem is,
they lift it with kind words,
carry its weight.
Accepting with grace
the pain I share
like the lonely day,
or the grief I bear.
Somehow, they keep me
breathing—holding on like
the last leaf of loneliness.
They buoy my soul
above turbulent waves,
providing hope and light
through the darkest night.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. 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. For suggestions on how to comment with care. See this graphic.
Barb, I absolutely loved your beautiful poem and your words of appreciation for our group. I feel the same way and don’t know what I would do without this group now that I have it.
I’m trying to keep up with 4 preps, five classes, fifteen college recommendations waiting for me to write them, and a student teacher. Whew! My goal was to just come and try to write every day this month, so I’ve been a bad responder on the Open Write this month. But I just wrote this Golden Shovel using a line that one of my wonderful students, Cooper Crouch, wrote in our “Poetry, Music, and Social Change” class. Thanks for the opportunity for me to discover this poem, Barb!
Writers
Words like rivers
run through Room 208 – like tiny, tentative creatures, come
out from hiding and
decide to set
a spell in our midst. For me,
this is our time to be free.
Strangers, new to me for
now,
but soon to be be my
foster-children, put to bed
pretense; fear lays
aside, empty
a shell of itself while silent
strangers embrace words like night:
mysterious, unknown, and undiscovered: No,
we are strangers no more. Words,
with potential to hurt,
have saved us, them, me
Barb, my friend, I love your poem and YOU! I love our community of teacher-poets with my whole heart. I knew I would write a Golden Shovel today but didn’t have a striking line that resonated with me when I scanned a book on my desk. But look at what jumped right out and said, use me!! I was not willing to end it with “loneliness” so I cheated a little on form.
I hope you enjoy how I’ve Golden Shoveled your line:
A Golden Shovel Poem for Barb and Our Ethical ELA Family
Somehow, poems gather us, somehow
they connect our dots nationwide, they
keep us whole. They keep
me close like a friend just for me
breathing is easier in community, breathing—
holding our rhymes, poets’ hearts holding
on for apologies or forgiveness, holding on
like haiku syllables to a theme, like
the pantoum or the villanelle or the rhythm of the
last stanzas we write on Wednesday. One last
leaf of paper sharing a poem about a leaf
of loneliness being held up, or of
loneliness fading away with hope and light.
© Stacey L. Joy, 9/25/24
Okay, first off, did you just invent a new form? I love this! Connecting dots nationwide is so wonderful and true. ❤️
I think Stacey invented a new form! Besides that, it’s a brilliant poem! Those descriptions of poetic forms and the “last stanzas we write on Wednesday”. Whew.
Stacey, yes, you did create a new form! Or at least I haven’t seen a golden shovel like this before. I love the repetition of the words in this double. “breathing–holding our rhymes, poets’ hearts holding on for apologies or forgiveness…” So beautiful!
The sentiments shared through this poem are the best part, but the inventive form and language sure are powerful. I love how you use poetry forms within. And
brings such truth.
Stacey, “connecting dots nationwide” and “keep us whole” are priceless! I love what you did with the repeating words at the beginning and end of each line. First, I thought you chose two lines – one for the line beginnings, and the other for endings. Very heartfelt and creative. Thank you, friend! 🥰
Ahhhh, Stacey. I’m so sorry I did not see this last night, but what a blessing to wake up and find your beautiful poem and hear your loving voice. Thank you so much! I love you, too, and I love your poem. I especially enjoyed how you connect holding and breathing and ending with that glorious final line: “loneliness fading away with hope and light.” Your poetry is always inspiring, and I feel much less lonely knowing you and the other lovely writers of this community are here to listen with their open hearts. Sending you wonderful positive blessings to buoy you throughout the week and months and years ahead! Thank you!
Stacey, I just loved this and the creative form!
Barb, I really enjoyed and needed this prompt today and I totally resonated with your poem in admiration of the generosity of this community. It’s truly a one of a kind space. Thank you for this your offering- my only other preamble is that Parkinson’s Disease is rough.
Golden Shovel: “I have always relied on the kindness of strangers.”
A Streetcar Named Desire, Tennesee Williams
I can’t quite match my mental image I
Have of my dad –
always dashing off to write, speak, or meet who
relied on impressions to make us laugh – to the quiet man
on the bed, no longer mustering his sassy, Southern Blanche DuBois:
the one about “always relying on the
kindness of strangers” for now he’s at the stage
of doing just that:
strangers now feed and wash his now reed-thin body.
Oh, Emily! Wow! I just recently lost a friend to Alzheimer’s and one who is suffering from Parkinson’s Disease right now, so your poem touches me in a very personal way. Knowing a loved one must rely on the kindness of strangers is momentous. You show well what your dad was once like and how this has been shifted so cruelly from Parkinson’s Diseases. Bless you for sharing this heart wrenching poem. Hugs!
Emily,
Oof, this is so powerful. What a great line that you chose for the Golden Shovel— and the picture you sketch of your dad is heart-warming and so sad. We’ve gone through similar things in our family. It’s not easy.
Oh, Emily, I’m so sorry for your dad’s illness. From “always dashing off to write, speak, or meet…” to “strangers now feed and wash his now reed-thin body” I’m so sorry for the slow deterioration. Parkinson’s is rough. Peace to you all.
Oh, Emily, I’m so sorry to hear this. This was such a lovely tribute, though.
The Encounter
By Mo Daley 9/25/24
We met, briefly, at an event.
I was able to squeak out an,
“I love your work” before being shuffled along.
I will never get the chance to tell him
that his writing inspired me to write,
that we have similar ways of thinking
about the world,
and that I have laughed and cried
while reading his poems.
He’ll never know what an impact
he has had on this stranger’s life.
But he can rest easy
knowing I love his work.
Ooh, I love this take on the prompt and the story. I think it does mean a lot to writers to hear from those that connect with them. I love the squeak of your voice, and this image of shuffling along. Glad you got this moment and that you shared with us, Mo!
Ohh, the mystery of this poem pulls me in! May I ask who is the inspiration??
I love this, Mo!
It’s Billy Collins. ❤️
I should’ve known!! 🥰
Mo, the details of your poem show perfectly your admiration for this unnamed poet. When you write about being inspired and sharing similar ways of thinking is powerful but knowing that the poet’s work has you laughing and crying is especially impactful. Hopefully, he’s reading your poem right now. Thanks for sharing this important poem and “The Encounter” today!
Mo,
I feel this deeply. I always feel weird meeting people who inspire me. There’s a distance and an intimacy that exist at the same time. “He’ll never know what an impact he’s had on this stranger’s life” captures that perfectly.
Oh, Billy Collins! How fun was that encounter! I love what you did with this prompt today, Mo. You should write him a letter and share the poem with him.
Mo, I first thought it was Keane, but you mentioned Billy Collins! I would feel same way – love his poetry and works on writing poetry. When I tell my students about the writers and poets I meet through NCTE and ALAN, they are amazed. What you say at the end os so true: “what an impact
he has had on this stranger’s life.”
Thank you ❤️
Mo, love this, and so jealous that you met him!
Barb, thank you for this prompt and for your beautiful exemplar poem. This community is so supportive and it is such a privilege to write with you and all of the other teacher-poets here.
I wanted to pull my thoughts to a more positive place today, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the execution yesterday in Missouri.
A Red Record
A man was lynched yesterday.
This banner unfurled
not in front in front of the offices
of the NAACP. The year was not
1920. Ida B Wells did not document
this in the Memphis Free Press and
Headlight.
This is a Red Record
but it is not 1895.
It is 2024, and yet,
my timeline bleeds.
A man was lynched yesterday,
at the hands of the state.
He was a stranger to me.
I cannot with surety proclaim his
innocence,
though his guilt was in question.
Marcellus Williams. Lynched yesterday.
His last words giving praise to Allah.
A prosecutor proclaiming injustice.
There is no way to make this right.
But I am compelled to say his name.
Thank you, Dave, for writing this, for exclaiming his name – Marcellus Williams. I am sickened, too; horrified. What is wrong with us? How was this considered the right thing to do, when even the prosecutor said it was wrong? These words haunt:
Everything Maureen said, Dave, and more. I’m glad you wrote this poem today. I can see why you felt compelled to write it.
Dave,
This tragedy hit me hard because I have a cousin on death row who’s innocent. You’ve honored Marcellus Williams and your poem should be shared widely. Heartbreaking.
😡
Stacey,
That’s crushing. I hope against hope that your cousin gets justice.
You’ve structured this poem so that it hits even harder how wrong this is, and how far we have to go. You’ve given me some historical references to research and know more, but more importantly, you’re final 2 lines are spot on.
Oh, Dave, your poem is heartbreaking. I also read about this execution and was deeply troubled. Your details highlight the injustice so well. I think you should submit this to the Rattle website for their weekly news poem. It’s power and truth are unforgettable. Thanks for sharing this timely poem. Love, love, love your closing line! Thank you!
Dave, your poem speaks for so many who must just say his name so we do not forget Marcellus Williams. This is one of our family names, so it strikes even closer! Oh my! When will it ever end,,,unjust executions of people of color!
Thanks, Dave, for honoring this person in your poem.
Dave, thank you for speaking out and speaking Marcellus Williams’ name. Like Anna said, “When will it ever end,,,unjust executions of people of color!”
Community
A place where my thoughts can rest
words put on paper
cleansing of my soul
Friends not seen can understand
sharing their advice
knowledge, love, no mind
A sort of mental balance
I return refreshed
new inspiration
Ready to begin again
writing with my soul
creating ideas.
Susan, you capture the rarity of this space, the unique aspect of its beauty –
It is nothing short of amazing, I think.
Maureen and I are on the same wavelength tonight. I loved “friends not seen,” too. I like the sparseness of your poem. You’ve said a lot with few words. Most days I think I need to work on that skill!
Susan,
The trio of lines is really welcoming to me today. I like the breaks for my eyes and time to process your lines, Yes “writing with my soul.”
Sarah
Susan, “writing with my soul” sounds such a neat way to put it. I, too, thought about friends “not seen” who become close and dear despite the physical distance between us. Thank you for sharing!
Susan- I love this theme of “thoughts resting” and refreshing your inspiration. Is this a poetry spa?! I love the genuine sentiments here, and the whole theme of support helping us as humans and writers resonates with me!
Susan, you’ve captured so many wonderful positives of writing within this community. Your opening directly sets the tone, and when you move to “cleansing of my soul” I was totally captured. There is something so wonderful about writing to clarify our emotions and experiences. “writing with my soul” is another line I am completely in accord with. Beautiful tribute and gorgeous poem! Thank you!
Susan, I love the details you have added about “Community” — “mental balance” “where my thoughts can rest” and I really like the line “knowledge, love, no mind” I like to think about the various ways I can interpret “no mind”
Barb, you are the kindest and most generous with your comments to me time after time. I am grateful for your endless support and encouragement. Thank you for hosting yet another writing session today. Your writing is brilliant. This makes me shiver:
” they keep me
breathing—holding on like
the last leaf of loneliness.”
I struggled with my poem after a long work day. I wrote about this incredible community a few times before, but it seems that I couldn’t find the right words or image today.
Where Each Drop Counts
A river’s strong tide,
Each drop alone,
A tiny forceless piece,
Together they rise.
Through rapids and storms,
They lift those tired to float,
Gently hugging with waves
Of kind words, care, support.
♥️ I love this
Every word of this poem is a treasure, Leilya. I’m so glad you are a part of this community!
Wow, Leilya, your poem is incredible! I love the title and the image of being able to ride the rapids and storms because of the others who lift us through difficult times. “Gently hugging with waves/Of kind words, care, support.” Simply beautiful close. You have also supported me again and again, Leilya, by providing lovely, thoughtful comments. Thank you! Hugs!
Leilya, I understand about not being able to find the right words. I had the same today. I do like the image of “each drop alone” and “together they rise” I think that captures what we do here.
Determined to keep me
from the thing that calls to me,
this temptation to fall away,
a sister sends a link to join
a walking meditation. A colleague
suggests we propose just
300 words knowing together
we only need 150 each. A rabbi
talks of Night from miles away
telling me to turn to page 19 for
the most important phrase. Just
as the wish to fall away whispers
nothingness, a stranger invites.
Somehow they always find me, seem
waiting for me, tag teaming
invitations to life. Intimate strangers
hushing nothingness wishes.
A walking meditation sounds lovely. “Intimate strangers” is how I feel about this group that I hold so dear. Thanks for all you do.
Sarah, a walking meditation is definitely an appealing idea, and I do so love the book Night – – – you have me scrambling for my book to find p. 19. I understand the need for so many to find you – – you are so needed in hearts.
Sarah, I love the way you show the varied ways strangers draw you into new activities, adventure and ideas. Something I can definitely relate to. At the moment, I want to pick up Night right now to see if I can find the most important phrase on page 19. I appreciate how you also reveal personal interests through the invitations you receive from strangers. Your ending line is provocative and beautifully phrased. Thank you for sharing your incredible poem with us today!
This is a terrific description of the invitations that come to us daily. Your line about the wish to fall away from it all makes me feel of the longing to get away from all the suggestions by strangers but on the other hand, I know they keep me going and alive with inspiration.
Sarah, I am thinking about the thing that calls to you – “this temptation to fall away,” hoping it’s poetry writing here. That stranger’s invitation seems to be always just in time. Love “intimate strangers hushing nothingness.” Thank you!
Oh, I love this, Sarah!
Barb,
Thanks for today’s prompt allowing me to remember a moment when I appreciated a stranger in the moment.
an afternoon at motor vehicles with mom
since mom’s arrival in Austin
– we’ve updated her Medicare account
me on the phone, mom at my side
– we’ve established her new local bank
– and today we wait at motor vehicles
for her ID
together we sit complete the application,
answer questions
and it’s time for her photo
I help her stand, inch towards the tape
on the floor – beside her
I watch the woman adjust the camera
lower the lens to capture my mother’s face
she shares the image with us
and we are done
I thank her for her patience and
how she eased the task for us
that afternoon
Jamie,
This form works so well with lists, a series of important tasks with mom. The “together” in being alongside and the noticing of the “woman adjust the camera” shows scenes of community in these shared public spaces. Yes, we can be someone who eases.
Peace,
Sarah
I was right there with you watching the scene unfold. Sometimes the most stressful of times brings out the best and kindest of strangers.
Jamie, I love how you capture this important moment with your mother. Having a helpful person at the DOT is truly a blessing. You also gracefully show the love for your mother and how her life is changing. Gorgeous poem! Thank you!
Jamie, your poem creates such a vivid scene of you and your mom at dmv. I like the smooth progression and patience of the woman assisting with your case. I wish all the paperwork to go that easy for you! Thank you for letting us into this moment!
Jamie, I love this kindness that you’ve highlighted at the DMV! So often these experiences become so Kafkaesque with faceless bureaucrats, unintelligible “user-friendly” kiosks, and lines that careen back and forth worse than Cedar Point — sorry, fairly local reference — and now that I think of it, these might just by my lived experiences whenever I renew my license, lol. And I love the importance/gravity of the line, “I help her stand, inch towards the tape.” Thank you for this!
It is the little things that can help us so very, very much. You’ve captured the gift of this beautifully in your poem.
Hi Jamie,
Nice to see you on here. What a sweet memory. I like how the poem shows both the gentle and patient care you gave your Mom and your gratitude to a stranger who made things just a little bit easier with their patience and care.
Hi Barb,
Thanks for the interesting prompt. I chose to write about a mix of something I’m passionate about and something that I experience on a daily basis as a student-athlete. Haiku’s are always interesting to me, so I’m writing in that form in my response.
The track, scuff’d and torn
With faded lines, turf well-worn
I feel at rest here
Leah,
So love this scene of familiarity — the track is not a stranger to this speaker. The line “With faded lines, turf well-word” is so well-written, sounds good with all the l’s! Which also make me think of the lines on the track.
Sarah
Leah, I adore the twist you provide at the end of your brilliant haiku. To know the energy it takes to keep running, it is great that you can find it as a place of rest. Fantastic poem!
Leah, thank you for this haiku. I can see that this track is that familiar place where “you feel at rest ” The rhyme of torn/worn works well here.
Leah, I love the ideas in that last line. A place of such work and challenge, and yet causing you to rest shows the importance of this sport in your life. Beautiful haiku.
Barb, I appreciate your reflections on sharing our burdens with each other. This is a most special community!
Bonjour
ça va?
et ta journée
la famille?
et le soir?
I don’t even
know their names
They might remember mine,
they might not
but they want to know about me
They care about how I’m doing
and my morning
and my family
and my night
And my accent is peculiarly American
I never noticed that Americans have an accent but of course, they do
But a colleague laughs and empathizes about my oversalted rice last night
“I don’t understand your accent, but I will get used to it.”
And I’m surrounded by sweet laughter
and students who run up to me, eager to near-shout
“Good morning, teacher! How are you?”
And every day I’m making a small difference just by being here
In class, we speak of love
and the environment
gender equality
and race
without an instance of shame or guilt
is it because it’s in a foreign tongue?
We won’t remain strangers forever
Step by step we’ll move together.
Helen,
I love how you started your poem in French, then continued on in English. It’s a unique way to begin and it draws the read in.
Helen, I adore the progress of your poem. You show your situation well through the specific details. I love how your students greet you and your ending is pure joy. Keep speaking love! Celebrating our differences and accepting each other is truly beautiful! Thanks for sharing your exquisite poetry with us today!
Helen, this is so good! I got goosebumps as I read: “And every day I’m making a small difference just by being here / In class, we speak of love / and the environment / gender equality / and race / without an instance of shame or guilt.” And I love the ending: “We won’t remain strangers forever / Step by step we’ll move together.” Thank you for crafting this and for sharing it!
Beautiful poem! Already a change from your first poem this week. I love the details and the hope in those last lines.
Barb, thank you for this beautiful prompt. I, too, cherish the grace I’ve been offered by this writing community – so much tender care. You have left me musing about all the times I have had these amazing interactions with complete strangers…and now that Open Write has concluded for this month (thank you, everyone!), maybe I will write on these moments. For now, I have this –
the unknown
Leonard Cohen sings of light
making its way through cracks
things are never hopeless
I have noticed
often strangers hold mirrors
to catch those precious rays
and tilt them my way, bending
my attention
forestalling my wallow
my sad wander into
all that is wrong
what hurt me so
why was it this way
my pain on repeat
one small moment with a newcomer
there’s this surprise refraction
a glow to keep me going, lifting me
Oh, Maureen, the beauty in these lines, this image…
Maureen, you hook me at once with the words of Leonard Cohen and the light that makes “its way through cracks.” You continue the image with the mirrors held “to catch those precious rays.” And at the end the “surprise refraction a glow to keep me going.” I hope you notice a ray of light today. Thanks for sharing.
Maureen, what a mesmerizing poem. I love the focus on light and reflection. Your opening line immediately pulled me in and perfectly set the tone. Love the surprise refraction at the end. Thanks for sharing your amazing poem with us today.
I love how this prompt has turned us to notice things, like “precious rays” that “glow to keep me going”. They happen every day and by being poets, we take note of them.
Maureen, every word here counts, and I so appreciate this affirmation: “things are never hopeless.” Indeed!
These lines stole my heart today:
“often strangers hold mirrors
to catch those precious rays
and tilt them my way”
I, too, notice that strangers create a unique prism for us to see things differently. Amazing!
What a sweet response to the prompt and the mystery of encounters with strangers that can bring surprise, understanding, even joy.
Ela’s Dragon
Weeps of willow,
Surround his pillow.
Winding.. weeping…. Sealed though…
exaggerated imagery,
Wisping, whining,
Wisping…
colorimetry.
Cracked crayons from his elementary,
Bulls pinned his artistry.
Thoughts trapped,
Spiraled into an eternal nap,
Slobbering…..
drools of stagnant sap.
Within him…
poetic without.
Deep below.
The shadows of the shallow.
Kept there,
For only him to know.
Butterfly death,
Upon his hidden breath,
Awoken, a spirit divine
Within himself,
A severed rhyme,
Bristled on the shelf,
Began to unwind.
Coiled, a striking timber,
Influenced by Ela, to remember,
Crayons of December,
Wisps surround his ember.
A fire brewed from the Dragon Ela,
Introduced him to sim- fellas,
Fortified –
with Crayola Umbrellas.
Whining swished to winning,
As the willow,
Waned, and began spinning,
Colorful sickles of the beginning,
Full of pretending,
All days new-
without an ending.
Dragon Ela opened his eyes,
Amongst
saber skies.
Slicing deep into his concealed,
Purple dragon revealed,
A world of appeal,
rebirthed
expressions
of how he feels.
Willows spin backwards in another dimension,
Creativity emerges in rhymes he mentions,
For the pen sweats from his clenching,
To add to the convention,
Of The Don’s invention.
Experiencing everyone’s attention,
Gracefully amazed at each one’s,
poetic ascension.
Dragon Ela mended broken crayons,
Improved from feedback of Ela’s liaisons,
The pillow he lays on,
His mind wonders on,
Awaiting monthly undertones,
Permitting his creativity to live on,
In short verse
Of the Dragon’s song.
– Boxer
Boxer, your poem is rich in imagery, and I love the extended metaphor of Dragon Ela. Your use of internal rhyme and color is particularly striking. I particularly loved the second to last stanza with
“Experiencing everyone’s attention,
Gracefully amazed at each one’s,
poetic ascension.”
To be seen and heard can really help one ascend.
Thanks for sharing such a beautiful and whimsical poem with us today!
There is so much beautiful alliteration in this magical piece; I particularly love the whispering sound ‘w’ words make – there’s almost a physical movement with each word, a breath given. And this poet’s dilemma is so awesome –
Boxer,
The alliteration which you so masterfully use at the beginning of the poem provides such clear imagery of the text!
Barb,
Thanks for hosting. I ran into this situation this morning, and ran with it. I may have to revisit it, as it has a level of potential.
THE GRINS RETURN
We are all here
down in the mouth,
HGTV on a mounted tv
and a large molar
sitting outside of the building
where the light comes through the window.
And time passes…
Numb faced, drilled,
or temporarily crowned,
we stand alone and leave
to make our fortunes once again.
But for a moment,
we shared awkward smiles,
together,
brothers and sisters
in begrudging mastication.
Oh my, I can even visualize where you are since I completely understand the large molar reference. I had to have surgery yesterday on my upper lip, so I am bounded down with a giant white bandage and have a lot of swelling and discomfort just as your poem illustrates through the dental work received. There is something particularly difficult about having a numb face. Just know I can emphasize, and I love your final stanza. Brilliant and fun poem!
Ha! That last line is so perfect. Yes, the dentist office is such a place of “stranger togetherness” – this bizarre, momentary intimacy. Love this!
Potential for sure!
from some who would rather give birth than go to the dentist…I squirm but I love it.
I appreciate you you transformed such a simple, daily experience into a beautifully written poem!
You allow me to break into a grin with your words – “down in the mouth.” And then I notice the setting established with “HGTV” and “large molar.” HGTV has become the homogeneous network to share since news sources can be so divisive. Then in the 3rd stanza you share the images of the dental experience – easily shared by many of us. Love your close with “awkward smiles” and “begrudging mastication.” An interesting clash of diction. Thanks for sharing your amusing perspective a a common experience.
Yes, I like “painful” humor in this. Do all dentists have the mounted tv and a light at your feet while there is drilling? Mine doesn’t have a large molar outside the building but a prehistoric jaw from an animal sitting in the office. What awkward grins we give as time passes in the chair!
Barb,
This is a magical prompt for me because, as you know, I’ve been traveling in Peru the past two+ weeks and have met and interacted w/ many *strangers* in our travels. I love both the mentor poem and your poem. I found both inspiring. You have been that buoy for me, even in those times I’ve felt disillusioned. ‘Preciate you, my friend. I’ll comment later. We’ve had a long night of travel and a 2.5 hour drive ahead of us when we reach Salt Lake City.
Strangers Call
Strangers call to me as I—
a stranger in their country—
walk doe-eyed in unfamiliar places:
the bent woman carrying
her anonymous bundle on a
back carrying poverty’s weight;
the women in traditional dress
displaying their handcrafts—
their art sustaining culture;
the guides leading me into
history through stories of
their homeland & its people;
Strangers call to me, so I can
answer in verse love to you.
Glenda Funk
9-25-24
*About my Canva image: It is part of a woven calendar belt. We visited Taquile Island on Lake Titicaca. It’s a cultural World Heritage Site, noted for the ancient weaving and knitting practices of its inhabitants.
Beautiful poem, Glenda. Your words brought me back to my visit to Peru. May you have safe travels and always have an open heart to the Strangers Call.
Glenda, wow, what an amazing gift you give us through your poetry filled with details of all your wonderful travels. The background of your Canva poem is rich in color and texture just as your poem offers. As I read your poem, I felt a sense of moving with you in a strange land full of strangers beckoning to buy their wares. I feel the ache of “poverty’s weight” and the importance of “art sustaining culture”. I also appreciate how important a guide can be to effectively share the stories of a culture and unfamiliar land. Your ending is so powerful! Love everything about your poem. Thank you for sharing today! Glad you made it home safely.
This is so lovely –
I have no doubt you’ve returned with many great stories from this two week adventure!
I loved that you had the opportunity to share your travel moment with us – a visit I made many years ago. I’m happy for you to have had the adventure. You open and close with “strangers call to me.” A familiar memory of “la gringa!” Then the words jump out to me – “art sustaining culture.” While she bears the weight of “poverty,” the pride in “art sustaining culture” shines. A clash of our perspective as travelers. Thanks for sharing your moment allowing me to remember my day on Taquile.
Oh, Glenda, thank you for sharing this touch of your trip. So beautiful. I am drawn to this bent woman and your artful description of her. “carrying poverty’s weight” is masterful.
Hi Barb! I joined in 2020 also. In April. But when I joined I could have sworn you were a veteran of this site! You’re amazing. Thank you for the prompt. Lots to think about. I totally agree with your poem although I’m not as consistent as some, this place has always been somewhere that I know I could turn to write about and share whatever I need to write about and share. It’s important and in thinking about that, I came up with this.
I’ve thought of this place as a gift.
I’ve thought of this place as magic.
But really it’s just a simple surety
from kind, thoughtful souls.
Somewhere I can write something,
press “post comment”
and someone is bound to reply.
But it’s not just a reply.
It’s something you never thought of
or a way you never looked
or the most meaningful thing you’ve ever been told,
like someone “would love to see [my poem] on a blackboard painted wall in every coffee shop and school and bus terminal and…”
that makes you think…
maybe my words mean something.
Angie, oh gosh, I love how you show the power of someone’s response. The comment you pulled is so wonderful I wish I had written it, but I know I did not. However, wow, what a gift to receive. Absolutely adore the way you move to that important message in your poem and how you open this with too important perspectives about this writing community. I love feeling the magic and appreciate the gifts received here. Gorgeous and powerful poem! Thank you!
Yes! It is the comments that offer the gifts, the magic, I agree! It is a powerful feeling when someone notices something that I didn’t even know was there in my own writing.
You capture our little world so well! It’s so affirming when we feel seen by the comments people put, especially when things are noticed we never thought of.
Angie,
I think you capture a lot of what it is that makes me come back. It is nice to have a place to share, even nicer to be nurtured. I think the last lines really capture that feeling. I loved the stretched out envisioning as a really long line. It makes the imagination of the thought show up in print.
Angie, what a precious poem for today. i love the way you say, “Someone is bound to reply.” That’s a lot right there. “But it’s not just a reply” makes it even better. So true and beautiful. The fact that you found and repeated that comment here is my very favorite thing I’ve read today. And those last two lines, definitely!!
Thank you
Who am I? I ask
in my poems
as you witness
without judgment.
You read,
you hold space,
you make my
shoulders stronger
by whispering,
Who’s asking?
__________________________________
The “Who asking? answer to “Who am I?” is inspired by a story Rob Bell tells in Everything is Spiritual.
Barb, what a great prompt today. Thank you for sharing the details of your story, with the painful timeline of your son’s death, Covid, your untimely retirement coming so close together. So painful. Thank you for your vulnerability and love for us to be here with this today. “For the Sake of Strangers” is so powerful. These lines of yours are so rich:
Denise, what a beautiful poem. I love how you frame this one with “Who am I? I ask” to “Who’s asking?” I am especially moved by your lines “you make my/shoulders stronger.” Yes, I feel this too. Having others read our poems “without judgment” is such a blessing! Thank you for sharing with us today, and also for your own kind words. You are truly inspiring, and I am so happy that I have come to know you better through Ethical ELA.
What a great inspiration that turned into a gem of a poem! I love the framing and that last question is so interesting to think about. I pondered it for a while. Thanks for sharing Denise.
What a beautiful poem, Denise. I love the interplay of me & you, and the bookended questions – “Who am I?” and “Who’s asking?” – wow.
Denise,
Thank you for your beautiful poem of thanks. I, too, have felt this community make my “shoulders stronger” by providing a safe place to share and giving such supportive feedback. I appreciate that you are someone who consistently gives kind feedback to so many of us.
Also, please know that I’m holding you and your family in my thoughts and sending love and light.
My Brothers’ Keeper
Left turn lane, second in line.
The first? Two boys, smallish, thin
Middle schoolers
Riding off-road motorcycles.
They raised their left hands,
Intrepidly turned.
Making my own left
I followed them to a street
Near my own.
They turned their helmets
Eyes asking me not to tell.
I sighed.
Why borrow trouble?
But if I learn
they are killed . . .
I won’t forgive myself.
Oh my, Kelley, I so understand the inner conflict of being a “tattletale” so to speak and being one who intervenes to save a life. I love how you pulled me completely into this scene and describe the actions of the middle schoolers and yourself. Your question “Why borrow trouble?” is especially powerful and relatable. Powerful poem! Thank you so much for sharing with us today!
You’re welcome. This has been weighing on my mind since I saw this ten days ago.
Kelley,
I feel like this as I get older, seeing things, sorta shaking my head, and then second guessing whether or not I should let it go. It is especially true if you are a teacher in a smallish town, where you see things. I see this in town with boys on mopeds.
I like the contrast of “why borrow trouble,” just to be followed with the guilt lines at the end.
Maybe the helmets are to hide who they are?
Kelley, what a scary position to be in. Oh, my! I hope they are careful, (and stop riding on the streets). Thank you for your vulnerable sharing today.
I want you
to know
that I
didn’t
not
read
your poem
I did
and it moved
me
immensely
(un
comfort
ably
so)
I didn’t not
read it
I just didn’t
comment
publicly
on it
because
I couldn’t
couldn’t find
the right
words
(as if there
are such
things as
“right” words)
couldn’t find
the right
turn of phrase
to bundle up
my thoughts and
present them
to you
a gift for a gift
I bore witness
though
and carried your
poem with me
throughout the day
and into the next
a small parcel
of Worth and Value
and Truth
(such things are hard
to come by these days)
so, I’d like you
to know
need you to know
that I was
here
that I saw
you
and I want
to thank
you
Scott, I love the way you open this poem, emphasizing the fact that we don’t always respond to someone’s poetry, but that we do read them. I have often found it difficult to share exactly how I have been moved by another’s poem in this space. Responding is a way to witness, and I so appreciate those closing lines such as “I was/her/that I saw/you” We learn so much about each other through our shared poems. I also appreciate how you show that these shared poems are a gift and that we may carry them throughout the day. Thank you for sharing this insightful poem with us today!
Thank you, Barb, for your prompt and mentor poem, today! And for your comments! There are so many here who are so good at commenting and, as you say, “lift[ing] [these poems] with kind words.” Yesterday’s offerings were so good, so beautiful and heavy, genuine and raw and your prompt helped me process my thoughts about those a bit today!
Wow, Scott. So you’re not just a funny guy, huh? This is very beautiful. I often do not comment on some poems because of the same reasons you express. Thanks for expressing that.
Hey, Scott, I really like the flow of this poem and the sincere tone. That is, I believe the speaker in the poem. However, the only way anyone in this community knows you read their poem, knows the poem touched you, knows their words matter to YOU, is through your direct response to their verse. Reciprocity IS vital to both communication and community,
un
comfort
ably
so
Scott, this is inspired! I love how you capture that feeling of movement but not knowing what to do with that energy. Sometimes, words fail. What I can give doesn’t feel equal to what I’ve received. You’ve given a voice to the many times I see something wonderful and I look and look but then let it go without adding my voice. What a peculiar feeling that you’ve put your finger on.
The rarity of your comments make them so precious!
And, your explanation is so dead-on. Sometimes we don’t known quite what to say, but we carry the words with us.
Scott,
Your first line is phrased in such an intentional way (“didn’t not”). It’s conversational, a phrase that readers can related to.
… I wondering what your meaning was as the author in breaking up the lines and stanzas as they were?
Scott,
You’ve captured a feeling that I have so often here—“what could I possibly say that would convey how profoundly moved by this poem???”
And, of course, you’ve captured that feeling as artfully as it could possibly be captured. Thank you for sharing this with us today!
Nicely done, Scott. the speed of the shorter lines takes me on more of a journey, more of a thought process. I also love that you are trying to articulate your feelings that are hard to articulate, about a poem hard to articulate. You have layers of meaning, like an MC Escher piece.
I just read your comment to Barb, and I can see why you wrote this. Yesterday’s poems were raw and genuine. I love that you read them and wrote this poem in response.
Barb,
I love how you have reminded us how special this community is. And so perfectly apt in the wake of the books being published. Your poem helps remind me how important it is to see the people behind the posts and keyboards. We came into this special–most of us–during a very vulnerable time in our lives, and this place, these people, were part of the healing agent. Your concise lines (we all know how I struggle with that) capture it perfectly. A few years back, I wrote a poem about here and called it “strangerfriends,” an invented word that I feel captures what we are.
Thank you for sharing a new poem with us. I pulled a line f from Dorianne Lux’s poem to inspire mine:
“Somehow they always find me, seem even
to be waiting, determined to keep me
from myself”
Saving Me from Myself
The eyes of strangers
glossed over with indifference
is often better than
the judgment or disappointment
clearly reflected in the eyes of
loved ones.
In uncomfortable crowds,
the silent affirmation from
a stranger can embolden
the spirit when the familiar
ignore or assume.
Invisible strings sometimes tether us
with like-minded people we have never
shared space with
yet
the gentle pull encourages us to stay
rather than flee
rather than jump
rather than withdraw
rather than put up pretense.
Whether in a crowd,
on the street,
in our workplaces,
in cyberspace
in our homes . . .
those who are seemingly strangers
save us
over and over.
~Susan Ahlbrand
25 September 2024
Susan, I love your poem and feel a variety of emotions while reading it. I do think a loved one’s approval is so important, and also amazed how strangers can “embolden/ the spirit” as you share in your poem. Keeping our faith to move forward and sharing here with this group takes more courage than we often realize. Love how you end with “save us/over and over.” Thank you for sharing your beautiful poem with us today!
Susan, what a fascinating thought about the strangers saving us. I have some beautiful memories when we lived overseas of things that happened in the presence of stranger-witnesses that made us laugh or be touched–human experiences that even with the language barrier, we made a connection. That’s what I remembered when I read your poem.
Barb, This community is my life vest, buoying me above the weight of grief and the joys of teaching, grandparenting, all of it. I get to be me here. I thank all of you. I’m using 90 Ways in my classroom every day and love how my students are responding.
A Pile of Keys
after Dorianne Laux
We are obliged to carry it
all, these keys that crowd my purse
pocket. I can never find the right one.
I grab the sunflower lanyard
holding the keys to my classrooms,
a plastic picture of me. Then the old
keys to some old filing cabinet.
Maybe I could throw them away,
but I won’t. Here is the key to my mother’s
house that breaks my heart, but I keep it
among the pile. Why?
I hold all of these keys
to open a door, to loosen a lock,
to weigh down my purse.
I resist the temptation to throw
them all on the floor
desperate to find the just right one.
Margaret, I love your extended metaphor. Keys are definitely a ubiquitous item we can all relate to, but what they unlock is far more personal. I love your final lines:
“I resist the temptation to throw
them all on the floor
desperate to find the just right one.”
Thanks for sharing your provocative poem, and I am sure the writers of 90 Ways of Community, appreciate your opening comment.
Margaret,
I feel the life vest analogy that you feel. So, so grateful!
Your poem has enchanted me. I have read it multiple times and love it so much. Each time, I find another layer of meaning.
Sound-wise, I love the rhythm of
Lord, this speaks to the hoarder in me so beautifully! I have kept keys like this in the past but circumstances have made me let go. I love the unique phrase of “the just right one”. Thanks for sharing Margaret!
Margaret, I connect with this idea of holding on to keys.
I love the punctuation going on here, as well as the asyndeton. As with the keys, the potential of these phrases pile right on top of one another. The period of “to weight down my purse.” Really grounds the phrase. It makes me wonder if I hold on to too much. Could I lift something else if I lightened my load? But what if I discard the key to everything? I’m a big believer in the power of hindsight, so these keys are valuable treasures, trusted friends.
You have given me a lot to think about. Thank you
Margaret,
Your poem uses metaphor in a wonderful way to convey a deeper meaning to us, the readers. You mention carrying all the keys, and I can’t help but think of a young cousin of mine who had an obsession with keys. He would carry random keys with him everywhere, jingling and fidgeting with them all day long. That image and memory really gives a deeper connection for me with your response.
Your pile of keys hits home. My husband finally said I had to get them off my key ring because they were weighting down my ignition starter. He’s a car mechanic. So my keys no longer crowd my purse but hand on hooks by my door. I can’t throw them away because there is a key to the house where I grew up, my first apartment, my old art studio, etc. Such memories!
Thanks, Barb, Sarah, and the team who presented prompts this week. Those new to OPENWRITE may find us a little mushy and gushy, but it’s true. We value this community of colleagues and companions. We hope you stay on board. We need you, too.
HOPE, Let’s Keep It Alive!
Hope is a verb that gets us going
Inspiring us when we’re not soaring
When we come down and look around
We don’t need a frown from a callous clown
It’s normal to shake when we soar
Just be careful not to roar
So loud we shake off the friends
We’ll need when the soaring ends
We know what goes up will come down
Let’s be that friend in need
We know we get what we give
Each day let’s give what we want
That’s a hopeful way to live
So when our friend is soaring
Let’s join the roaring, for we’ll be pouring
Into them what we may need tomorrow.
Then we’ll all share in joy that we borrow.
It’s okay to borrow just remember to repay
And on an exceptionally cloudy day
Know that hope will clear the way
To ensure we each thrive not just survive
We all must keep hope alive
Anna, your poem shares great insight behind when one might roar too much that it turns someone else away. It’s often difficult for people to be supportive especially if they feel someone is bragging too much, etc. I love your line “Let’s be that friend in need”. And your last two lines “To ensure we each thrive not just survive
We all must keep hope alive” are so important. Thanks for sharing your insightful and wise poem with us today!
Yes, Anna, that “thing with feathers” must be protected at all costs! I love how these lines — “for we’ll be pouring / Into them what we may need tomorrow. / Then we’ll all share in joy that we borrow” — speak to the fellowship and reciprocity so needed (and so brilliantly showcased here) in a community of writers. Thank you for this!
Anna,
I love the reminder that
Thanks for this wise call to action
Kindness
The owner of my favorite breakfast restaurant
who recognizes me, gives me a quick hug
shares any updates and always asks about my family.
The music director at church who occasionally checks in,
often buys breakfast for the whole choir and prays over us.
My sisterfriends who share their wordle scores and
send nurturing texts every few days.
Random strangers who smile, give a pleasant look,
and remind me of my Mother, who was bubbly and effervescent.
After losing her, I adopted her trait. I strive daily to try to meet everyone
I see with a smile and a pleasant countenance.
At first it was challenging. Now its a part of my normal rhythm.
Seana, what a beautiful poem. I love all the ways in which you show kindness from others and how you’ve adopted your mother’s special trait of smiling to everyone she meets. Sometimes it is difficult to smile, and I love how you end with that this has now become “a part of my normal rhythm”. So sorry for the loss of your loving mother. Thank you for sharing your gorgeous poem with us today!
I love how you shine a light on each “stranger” and how they uplift you. We are so blessed when we can recognize the kindness in others.
Hello Seana, your poem is a lovely tribute to your mother. She would be proud to know you’re emulating this gracious behavior.
Your poems also models what we hope to see among our students…willingness to write about tough topics because they trust the classroom ambiance established there.
Seana,
What a beautiful and profound tribute to your Mom to take on her trait of being kind to all. She’s left you quite a legacy and your poem shows how you are using that legacy to make others lives better.
i also love
A good reminder that practice makes things easier.
Barb,
Thanks for hosting. I, too, am grateful for this community of kind writers.
Thank you to everyone for sharing your poems and comments. Looking forward to reconnecting next month.
Barb, I like your use of alliteration and the surprising image of
Two Strangers
Locking up my bike
before heading into the grocery store
I spotted you
a stranger
carrying the same novel
I had just returned to the library
I called out to you
keeping our covid distance
we spoke across the street from one another
excitedly sharing
what we each loved about the book
Sharon, I love poems that pull me completely into a scene which your poem did for me today. Your title is perfect and shows how we can connect through something we are passionate about like books. There’s nothing more fun to me than having a great conversation about a beloved novel. You also show the distance created by Covid but how two strangers could still connect in a very personal way. Brilliant poem! Thank you!
What a compelling poem, Sharon! It’s like a teeny novel in a few lines – so layered. The chance encounter, the recognition of the book, the pandemic, and yet, the connection. It sometimes takes great courage for someone to speak to a stranger – and sometimes, the reward (as it is here) is equally great.
Sharon, what a sweet memory. These Covid connections are some of the little bright spots in our memory of that year, aren’t they? I love this story!
Barb, my heart is overflowing with gratitude this morning in your prompt and in your poem. What in the world, what in the world, what in the world would I have done without this group of poets and everyone’s acceptance and nurturing of a broken me when I needed it most? I think of that day I first met Sarah and the card that said “Free book!” (I still have it ~ I keep it in my jewelry box) that I got in her presentation at NCTE. That one session and then the writing that happened later was life changing, and I am ever grateful for my writing family. I like the idea of the strangers – – because now that we have experienced the magic of poetry and writing, it becomes our call to action to do the same for others and to reach out to those we don’t know to offer a space of voice and belonging. Thank you for this prompt today.
Belonging
we step from shadows
into glowing candlelight
from our scars
we discover soothing balm
from mourning and grief
into reassurance there is
reason to go on
we come from loneliness
to take a hand of belonging
from disconnectedness
to welcoming acceptance
we leave our fears
step into the fold of peace
we leave disappointments
find spiritual hope
we feel our hearts
pulled at the words
someone else’s
shadows
scars
mourning
grief
loneliness
disconnectedness
fears
disappointments
are our own moments
our own memories
and we know
we know
we know
this is no ordinary
writing group
these are
our lifelines
our people
our friends
our family
Kim, your poem brings tears to my eyes. Such a powerful tribute to this writing group. I love your final lines. Yes, these people are lifelines, family and friends. I so appreciate the emotions throughout this, sharing the connections and “welcoming acceptance”. Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem that deeply touched my heart today!
Kim, we DO know, we writers and most of all, poets, that humanity has shadows, scars, grief, loneliness, disconnectedness, fears…and that our togetherness somehow makes something beautiful and powerful of it all. I wasn’t expecting that word I love, “memories.” Our brains make memories and our memories make us. Memories can make us not want to trust anyone or anything, or they can buoy our spirits when the tide of life ebbs its lowest. That, too, is where a writing community comes in – yes, “lifelines,” pulling each other along. How well I know it. How well expressed, Kim – for I believe one of the greatest things we desire, ever, is belonging in a “family of things” (nod to Oliver) and the thing we fear most is loss. When we write together, we draw strength from one another, sometimes when it is needed most. I know this to be true of your words for me, friend, on numerous occasions!
Oh, Kim, this is so gorgeous. The empathy flowing like a tsunami. Just wonderfully summarizes what I believe about this group. Thank you! I love how each feeling is completed with a gift, like in this (one of my favorites)
Barb, my own soul has been buoyed here in writing community many times…you have been one of the buoys! Now I’m suddenly thinking of that as a fun title for something: “One of the Buoys.” Back to your poem – the word that grabs me most is”grace.” If we could all learn to give it better, and receive it better, the world would be transformed.
I have only a little haiku in me this morning, but, in its way, it does speak for the sake of strangers. Thank you for this offering.
If there’s a secret
to family engagement,
it’s staff engagement.
Phew! So true. I’m thinking of all the ways that our work family can make our home family so much better. It’s the simplicity of words that allows for greatness of thought in a haiku and yours does exactly that! Thank you for the reminder, Fran.
Fran, “only a little haiku” packs power, and that is what I love so much about these short forms that make us pause, read, take a breath, and think deeply. Engaging with others is where the belonging and oneness is, and the world certainly needs more of that. As always, your lines shine truth!
Fran, I love the opening line of your haiku as it immediately captured my attention. Who doesn’t want to know the secret to anything, but when it comes to a family engagement, oh my, that is really important. Obviously, those strangers we hire to help everything flow well are truly important. Thank you for sharing this clever poem with us today!
Barb, this prompt feels like a breath of healing today. I am audibly breathing in your words and letting them surround me. What a beautiful beginning to the day.
It is the kindnesses
that matter in life,
the teenage boy
in the grocery aisle
who bends to gather blueberries
knocked from the cart
and rolling willy-nilly everywhere.
That first blueberry rippled
like a stone tossed into water
as others followed
on a day when everything
has gone wrong
and there is no time for stopping.
You know teenagers,
though not this one
who defies the stereotypes
to help a stranger,
drawing attention to himself
to offer kindness.
You know teenagers,
or you thought you did,
because this teen
took the ripples
and tsunamied them
into a kindness
all for the sake of a stranger.
Jennifer, you have the rare gift of being able to take one single moment and zoom in tenfold to show us the power of selflessness and service to others just as this teenage boy gave to another he did not know. It makes me wonder: what if we all did that?? And there is something about the tenderness of blueberries rolling willy-nilly everywhere, needing to be gathered and brought back into their place of safety where cart wheels would not run them over. This one will stay with me today – – it’s a blueberry thought day for me. Beautiful.
Jennifer, I adore your poem and the kindness you share through the teenager who helped you with spilled blueberries. I had an experience spilling blueberries which causes a big mess in a hurry. I love the flow of your poem and your choice of language is marvelous. I especially enjoyed the following ones: willy-nilly, rippled, tsunamied. Your final line is delivered perfectly. Thank you!
Such moments restore our hope for our species, Jennifer! I can see this vignette unfolding before my eyes, oh my, and the teen (instead of laughing) warms my heart, stopping to help gather those rolling berries. And – of course it happens on a day when everything has gone wrong! You paint the moment so clearly that I feel the angst and the wonder, in turn.
Good Morning, Barb. I love, ‘Words that Mend.’ It is a collection to be proud of. But more than that, it’s a beautiful resource for teachers and teens. These lines…wow, “Last leaf of loneliness/buoy of my soul.”
I’ve been pondering a prompt: Thirteen Ways of Looking…and this is what bubbled up this morning while drafting.
“Ways of Looking at My Late Fifties
moonbeam webs
stray at my temples
sleep escapes my nights
children now look
after me making sure
mother is safe, healthy
what doesn’t seem long
ago, was…not on my phone
yellowed paper files
I was searching for a response to a prompt, ‘Thirteen Ways of Looking…” and that seemed to bubble up for me this morning.
Linda, the softness that permeates your poem is what strikes me most – the delicacy of the moonbeam webs, the children looking after mom, even the yellowed files from age. There is a softening as we age and you have reminded us of how beautiful it is.
Linda, the shift of taking care of children to their reaching out to us is seen and felt here in your lines today. I, too, am looking at late fifties and feeling all of the loss of sleep and the webs at my temples. Oh, friend. You have hit the nail right on the head today.
Linda, first of all I love your title and that first line “moonbeam webs” is such a unique a delightful description. The shift from being the mother to being mothered is definitely a change which is highlighted well through your lines about a phone to “yellowed paper files”. Truly insightful and gorgeous poem. Thank you!
All day it continues, each kindness
reaching toward another—a stranger
singing to no one …
— from For The Sake Of Strangers by Dorianne Laux
You spent your day
in hesitation, waiting
for the moment when
kindness might come
But what if in that waiting,
you missed the opportunity
to receive the grace of
another’s reaching out
And so, too, today brings
the possibility of each of us
making one small act
to alter the life of another
Sing the song
another might hear
What a beautiful way to hear kindness.
Kevin, I love your call to action. To whom much has been given, much is in turn required. You remind us that poetry is about reaching inward and healing and accepting, but also that it is about reaching outward to offer healing and giving. That last line is powerful because singing what another might hear comes in all different melodies.
Kevin, your poem is beautiful and emphasizes the importance of being a witness or available to others. A small act of kindness can change the whole trajectory of a person’s day. Really enjoyed your final two lines and receiving “grace” is such a blessing.
Kevin,
You really let the lines of that poem inspire you! I love the direction you went and I adore where you landed at the end. Such a powerful twist on Laux’s idea!