This is the Open Write, a place for educators to nurture their writing lives and to advocate for writing poetry in community. We gather every month for five days and daily in April — no sign-ups, no fees, no commitments. Come and go as you please. The hosts are educators and authors who generously volunteer to craft writing ideas for us! All that we ask is that if you write, you respond to others. Mirror to them your readerly experiences — beautiful lines, a phrase that resonate, ideas stirred. And enjoy. (Learn more here.)
Our Host
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 Venice, The Alps, and Paris; and this upcoming summer they will go to Greece. 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
The January/February 2025 issue of World Literature Today includes an interview with Zahid Rafiq from Srinagar, Kashmir about his debut short-story collection. I am inspired by his answer to the question, “What do the best stories do?” His answers remind me of responses by other interviewed authors about writing which continue to bring me to a common concept: writing may be rooted in observation.
Furthermore and lately, I have been drawn to novels written in verse. My most recently read book in verse is The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo. The main character joins a slam poetry club, silent no more.
Process
Observational poetry is an opportunity to slow down, look, listen, feel, and think.
Xiomara Batista (known as X) in Elizabeth Acevedo’s The Poet X spends her lunchtime hiding away from the cafeteria and writing haikus.
Perhaps, like X, you need someone in your life to give you permission like her teacher, Ms. Galiano, did for her: “She tells me words give people permission / to be their fullest self. And aren’t these the poems / I’ve most needed to hear?”
What is something you have witnessed and is something you or others need to hear? A blazing sunset? Winter shadows? Absent students? Mixed messages of Ai? Student literacy levels? If you struggle to think of a topic, nature is a good source. What is outside your nearest window? Or what can you show in words of the most recent picture in your electronic photo album of something including nature.
Write a haiku (three lines, following syllable rules of five-seven-five) or more to share what you no longer want to be left unsaid from an observation you have made. Using reflections, lists, metaphors, questions, and memories can help move your observation to become a poem.
Perhaps you want to try your hand at linking to a video or audio recording of you performing as in slam poetry – to shine as your fullest self.
Amber’s Poem
Fog Focus
My days: fit and fat –
like a Turkey Day dinner
I have a full plate.
And so I welcome
fog in dense revelation –
One. Bite. At. A. Time.
I can look forward
or where I’ve already been.
But focus is here.
I got here by there,
I’ll get there by being here.
Life shining in fog focus.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers.
I quote the gospel of Matthew, so if you are offended by that, don’t read on. But for me, the idea of carrying light applies to every connection I make–no religion needed.
“My burden is light”
I read it again, seeing
newly, sharing Light.
Weather
I don’t mind the cold
but how much winter is left?
Ready for springtime.
Amber, thank you for this prompt. Short form is exactly what I needed today.
I think we all are ready; yet, we are still behind on our snowpack, so despite the chill in my bones, my logical self wants more snow.
Amber, inviting us to write tight was just right for today!
We must give to live
Give our head, heart and mind
Give and joy we find
Anna, I really love We must give to live. It’s a terrific reminder.
Anna,
this is pure goodness.
Thanks for sharing and reminding us that giving is both a responsibility and the parh to joy.
Anna, I’m so glad you were able to join us today. Writing tight felt like something I needed, too.
I like that you have pointed out how giving and joy go together. It is so much that way, isn’t it?!
I like the connection to Francis. Great thought.
Thanks, Amber, for hosting and prompting. I enjoyed the paradox of your fog/focus poem and appreciate the bite-size haiku prompt.
the sky is empty
solid February gray
we yearn for spring greens
Amen to this, Sharon. We know that February gray, especially here in the Midwest.
Hi, Sharon! Sometimes that just what we need…a little bit here and there. I’m glad you were able to join today.
Your words “the sky is empty” have caught me in a perspective I didn’t consider, but definitely see now. It’s such a “solid February” characteristic. Thank you for that observation.
Amber, thank you for the invitation to pay attention. As poets, this is our calling: pay attention. But we need nudges again and again to do it, record it. Your prompt drew me back to a flashbulb memory that has lived in me for years.
Upon a Cowboy Boot Poking out from under a Tarp at an Interstate Crash Site
He doesn’t know I carry his boot
cupped in a deep slice of memory.
I care for his boot.
I care for his foot.
He gave me recognition
of mortality.
I gave him memory.
How can such a specific memory be so universal? I know exactly what you are talking about here. I have a similar
memory from an accident I saw. You’ve turned your memory into something beautiful.
Oh, Allison. This is so beautiful and tender. I love every word of it—the spare narrative, the respect, the repetition ans parallelism and especially this line:
Thank you for sharing.
Ohhhh, Allison…your poem reminds me of how the inviting space and time to write is so important. Thank you for sharing this. “I gave him memory” makes me think of taking the time to put words to flashbulb memories that live in me. Thank you so much for this.
Winter Haiku
by Mo Daley 2/18/25
the illusive owl
declares his presence but won’t
show himself to me
Ooooh! I know this poem! It has lived in me!
Mo,
I can just hear this and feel you watching in vein. I hope you get a glimpse of your owl friend soon.
Mo, your lines “but won’t / show himself to me” pull at mixed emotions of playfulness and frustration. I wonder how many more winter days that owl will declare, but not reveal. Now I want to go wandering to see what I can hear, but not see.
😳🥹🫣
you already know.
Beautiful poem, with a hint of Robert Frost in the feeling. A First Nations storyteller I know well teaches about owls being the messengers between earth and heaven and explains this belief is why we have superstitions about death and dying when we see an owl in the wild. You didn’t touch on those ideas, but they were in my mind, making the ‘won’t show himself to me’ all the more poignant.
I’m subbing today for a teacher who expects subs to take his extra lunch duty, which I refuse to do. I’ve told him this before, but he always leaves duty instruction in the lesson plan. My poem is in response to his directive. BTW, he gets extra pay for lunch duty but doesn’t offer to pay the sub.
Lunch Lady Land
This ain’t no Adam Sandler song &
the gym is not an ideal space
for scarfing lunch while in this place.
You do you and skip a meal five days
each week. I’m not the kind of teacher
who bites the contract that feeds her.
In short, there’ll be no lunch time fast
when I’m here I need midday repast
and time to nosh forbidden fruit—
So here’s a lesson to take away:
Subs don’t do your extra duty
the job that gives you greenback bounty.
Glenda Funk
2-18-25
LOL! Tell ’em, Glenda.
Good for you, Glenda. I love that you stand firm and principled, as your contract states. I love that second stanza as you explain that.
LOL. I wish these days weren’t so crazy…but here we are!
“who bites the contract that feeds her” I LOVE your poem and your nonviolent protest. Loved your attention to words: lesson, duty, nosh…<3
Glenda,
Good for you for setting limits. I liked the Adam Sandler reference and all your fun synonyms for lunch.
Glenda!!!! I am already laughing at your first line. The allegory throughout has me captivated like I’m at a stand-up comedy. I like the boldness to speak what you have to say! Silent no more!
Amen, Glenda! We went on strike to get rid of recess and lunch duty in the 1980s! I can’t imagine people are still having to do that. I am so grateful that you knew better as a sub. We all deserve a break.
Mainly in digital-loop feed
scrolling through inky confessions
of Sunday or snow day expressions
I used to blurt into liminal space
scary flutters, selfish prayers
stuck in my throat but spewed
publicly echoing something like
disdain for a calling to care for
other people’s children in the
morning, creeping resistance, I think
I hate the way these sentiments
waste the present to comment on
tomorrow. I never like to wallow with you,
never want to sit beside your surrender.
What other professions go to the public
and pray for a snow day or say they don’t
want to go to work, a work where there
are other people’s children? So I will
scroll by the images of teachers dancing
to be free of their students for another day.
With free hours of snow covering my path
to class, I will fortify my heart for tomorrow.
______________
No disrespect to my dear colleagues who pray for snow days. I just found that the repeated images and memes of teachers being overjoyed for another day off rub me the wrong way sometimes.
Sarah! I am with you there. Living in a small town where everybody knows I’m a teacher, I get asked if I look forward to my snow days. Even my students will ask me when they know the anticipation of cancelation is approaching. And I mostly shrug because I don’t really know how to respond. A snow day is sort of like “whatever” to me…because it’s something that I can’t control. At times I will feel so bold to remind the asker that I chose to be a teacher because I like the learning time spent with the students. I can be anything I want to be, and I choose to be in a career where I can be with students, to see them learn and grow, to be inspired by them, to laugh with them, or at times to even just sit in grief with them. These are the people of our future…and I get to be with them along their journey there…but not so much on a snow day.
“I will fortify my heart for [Thursday],” with you.
Bravo, Sarah. I always loved an occasional snow day when all the students and teachers could stay safely inside, but two in a row was getting to be too many. I so love these thoughts: “echoing something like / disdain for a calling to care for / other people’s children”
Sarah,
There were times I hated snow days and times I loved them. I think it depends on the year, the circumstances, etc. But I do wonder how many wishing for a snow day also don’t like being w/ students. I was supposed to work last Friday when we had a snow day, and since I had a job scheduled, and get paid for it, I was glad for the snow day. Also, two of the four classes were at debate, so that changes the dynamic. If I were in Oklahoma, I might worry about what nonsense RW would get up to on snow days.
Akin to this are the folks who grumble about Mondays — like Garfield, I guess — or, worse yet, are those teachers who start a countdown the first week of school….I mean, really?….Even when my seniors do it, I try to tell them, yes, I understand you want to graduate, you want to start the next stage of your life, I get that, I really do, but I don’t want you to wish away your lives, this is a slippery slope…you want to graduate, you want to start college, you want to finish college, you want a good job, you want to retire….want, want, want…things that are always out of your reach….just breathe, relax, live in the now…life is happening right now (sorry for the rant, thanks for coming to my TED talk, though, lol)
I get it. Offering teachers $$ for more time with more students and less planning time rubs me the wrong way–even though there are colleagues of mine that love the extra $. I love how you and Glenda worked out some feelings with poetry!
Sarah, I love you for giving us (teachers) a look in the mirror. (What other professions go to the public
and pray for a snow day or say they don’t
want to go to work, a work where there
are other people’s children?)
You invited me to think (ah! the power of a poem!) about how teachers talk about our work in general. Recently my journalism students asked a generic question to people in our school: “What gets you through the day?” When our vice-principal answered “Going home,” my heart hurt.
Sarah,
I get it. I’ve never experienced a snow day but the unexpected days off for the fires in January didn’t feel like days off. It was terrifying. Thank you for sharing this perspective. As I type this comment, I’m thinking I have 71 more days until summer break.😂😂
Amber thank you for inviting us to observe. I took the opportunity to sit on the back porch and gather words before another chill joins us. I love your line One. Bite. At. A. Time.as it accentuates like my type the image.
green
something about less light
accentuates various
shades of green
brightness of new leaves
tinge of grey on the backside of
broccoli’s leaf, cactus paddles
deepness of mature leaves
some a blend of a darker grey
some who’s green goes deep
I imagine light not able
to pass through leaf’s many layers
invisible to our eyes
Jamie,
What a lovely invitation to consider in this first stanza: “something about less light”. And this has me looking for green outside my window.
Sarah
Jamie! Wow! Thank you for bringing your moment on the back porch to us here with “green”. I especially like the use of “some” in this poem to partner with your first stanza. This has me wanting to take another moment today to sit and observe. Wow, what we can capture in writing by taking that moment to look, listen, feel and think.
Jamie, what beautiful observations you made of the glorious greens of the world.
Jamie,
I like how you looked past the gray to see the greens I wrote about yearning for. I’ll keep this in mine when I look around tomorrow.
memories
February break
grandkids at Nana Poppa’s
two day sleepover
strewn on the sofa
pale, lethargic, cold and warm
not the fun we planned
slow down and be cozy
keep hydrated and take naps
our together time
Ohhhh! This just warms my heart so much. “strewn on the sofa” I remember those days as a child. What “cozy” memories you are making.
sounds wonderful – I love the image of them “strewn on the sofa.” The words feel soft. As do – “slow down and be cozy” Pretty perfect.
Maureen,
I feel some mixed sentiments in this poem as “not the fun we planned” and how “strewn” can have different connotations. The “keep hydrated” has me wondering about the remedy — hot tea or vitamin water. I think I really like “naps” so that is my kind of fun though people being sick is no good. Glad there was some cozy time.
Sarah
A two day sleep over at Nana’s sounds wonderul but why is it not the fun you had planned? The cozy time is envied by me.
Bummer, Maureen,
But I can see the picture of the sick grands, and can almost hear the coughing as well. I like that as a nana you end with it being together time, regardless. The time is so precious.
Oh, lovely, Maureen. No matter what is done at Nana and Poppa’s will be memorable. I love that slowing down and the limited objectives found in that third stanza.
Maureen, I didn’t at first see the “sickness” until reading Rex’s comment, but there it is in stanza two: “pale, lethargic, cold and warm / not the fun we planned.” I was so focused on the “cozy” and the “naps” and thought, this sounds delightful, lol! Hope everyone is feeling better!
Thank you for hosting today Amber. I love your love for travel. I hope to be doing the same thing soon! I want to hold on to this stanza:
“I can look forward
or where I’ve already been.
But focus is here.”
as a reminder to myself to be present in the now. Our school day is canceled because of the impending winter weather. We probably could’ve gone to school because I’m pretty sure we will not be in session tomorrow, but “focus is here”… in my space (shared by my 10-year-old son who doesn’t know boundaries).
Weathering Fights
Alerted yester;
Kept the routine this morning-
Went to Burn Boot Camp.
Flurries have arrived.
Nestled inside, peeking out.
Still brown and dead grass.
Chilly air wheezes.
A mile-long list for to-do.
I’d rather read books.
60’s next week, sun.
No longer surprised by this
Arkansas weather.
This wintry weather begs for a day of reading – and an impossibility with a ten year old, I am sure. Enjoy the snow days!
Yes, I hope to do so. Thank you, Maureen!
Jessica, thank you for sharing this! I have a son who just turned 11…I can’t believe they’ve already been in our space for a decade! Time goes way too fast. And this makes me connect to your line “I’d rather read books.” So…why don’t I?! I think you have just inspired me. I might just push that list to the side and read some books. Time goes too fast to not pause in the books for a bit.
You’re welcome Amber. This weather, especially being at home, makes me so unmotivated. After lunch, I’m refocusing. I’ve been procrastinating.
I love your title. The weather in Austin flips from warm to cold, clear to cloudy. I know exactly what you mean. Reward yourself with reading time as you check off your list.
Thank you Jamie, I’m going to do exactly that.
Jessica, all the best to you and your community. Stay safe! Obviously the snow won’t last. I love your title thinking of the weather fighting with itself. I hope you and your son experience peace and joy in being home sharing space!
Thank you Denise. I’m going to take this time to just be “in the moment”. They can’t do any work, so might as well make fun memories!
Ready
Oh boy those are red!
Sweet strawberries in a bowl
Mouth is watering
Yellow dabs melt on
two crunchy pieces of bread
Golden flavored crumbs
The day has started
I’m ready to run full gait
until the lunch bell
rings
Love the colors here – my mouth is watering, too.
My mouth was watering, too! 😀
You have tapped into all my senses with this one: red, watering, crunch, rings! What a delicious way to start the day. Thank you for slowing us down and reminding us of the bliss that can be found in nourishing ourselves before we “run full gait”
Your words mimic the quick pace. The seem to speak to each other. The title prepares us for such. I hope you have a bag of nuts or something to carry you to lunch.
Susan, what a fun day–going from one meal to the next, always being able to enjoy looking forward to the next one. We are blessed, aren’t we? Your breakfast sounds delicious. I like how you described each detail like “golden flavored crumbs”
Amber, thank you so much for getting me out of my head and looking out the window. The snowfall today makes for great subject matter
Alone Then Together Then Gone
snow falls in curtains
straight down with no wind in sight
dusting on the road
mix of large and small
dancing together in descent
boogeying on down
mesmerizing sight
landing, hugging each other
blanketing the ground
we know they’re unique
and they parachute alone
so how do they feel
when they join others
as snowballs, snowmen, and slush?
too close for comfort?
temps rise and sun shines
dissolving the particles
back to H2O.
~Susan Ahlbrand
18 February 2025
“we know they’re unique
and they parachute alone” – love this!
Wow! Susan! The imagery here is captivating me. The use of curtains, blanketing, parachute, comforting, hugging have me shifting my perspective back to an attitude of gratitude about the snow…it isn’t an obstacle, is it?!
Susan,
I love this contemplation of “join” and “snowballs, snowmen, and slush” as a trio “close for comfort.”
Sarah
Fun personification of the snowflakes. I would love to see that. Being a California native, I have never seen snow fall.
Susan,
I love the lifecycle progression of the snowflakes, the way you cover it well in the progressive stanzas. I love the exploration regarding how they feel when compressed with purpose in mind. You really covered the gamut of the snowflake life!
I love the journey from falling snow to snow products (causing discomfort for each little parachute) to water. Clever and fun observations you make here!
Thanks for this prompt. Most of my poetry is based on observational information. It’s a building block. First you see something in the outside world that leads you to take note and wonder about how that thing (sunset, flower, moon, stars) speak to your inner self. This happened last week and I’m still trying to process, so here goes.
She googled “ways to kill yourself”
on her Chromebook in after-school care.
I wasn’t there. I didn’t ask her why.
The meeting scheduled without me
sent her parents through a protocol
of a visit (release) from a medical doctor.
“I went to the hospital,” she said.
“I lost my blood bracelet on the playground
Can I go look for it?”
I hold the door and watch her wander
the field, head down, lost, but here
searching for a sign, a life line.
Margaret, writing is a process, so I feel that in instances and circumstances like this, we write to find our voice, and words, and understand emotion.
Your last stanza,
I hold the door and watch her wander
the field, head down, lost, but here
searching for a sign, a lifeline.“, especially the last line, is something that we all need to find. Our life is what keeps us going. Her blood bracelet may be someone else’s charm, drawing, or picture. May healing and understanding come.
So thankful that this student has you in her life. That last line, “searching for a sign, a life line” – I feel you striving to understand and support. May she open up, find healing.
Oh, Margaret, my aching heart. Writing has such a way of exploring what we see and how that connects with us on the inside. I’m so glad you shared this today. “I hold the door and watch her wander” is such a theme for seeing the youth of today…my students, my sons, my nephew. In anticipation.
Very sad is this poem. I think this child is lost as well as her bracelet. I like the fact that you can hold the door and be present for her. Your lines are well written to bring out the emotion.
Such a strong opening. And the close—lost, but here. But she has you…
Margaret, oh, your poem and this sweet girl. You are processing this well here. Thank you for sharing. Peace and growing to all surrounding this. That last line: “searching for a sign, a life line” Wow!
Hi Amber! I loved your poem which made me think of times when my plate was not so fit, but always full. Life does shine in fog focus…anyway your haiku inspired mine—
my plate not so full,
turkey dinner long consumed
but still digesting.
Ann, “but still digesting”. I have taken a new turn in my health and wellness journey, but there are times when I want to go back to that place…because it was comfort. But as I sometimes am “still digesting”, I reflect on how far I’ve come. Metaphorically, I’m still digesting. Thank you for sharing.
“but still digesting”….this line!!!!! Isn’t that the truth. Thank you for bringing that to light. What we have done carries with us and moves forward with us, doesn’t it?!
Ann, I love the “still digesting” in your poem. It can have many meanings. I’m reading your poem as a retired person, and I can still relate to that still digesting after these three years.
Amber, loved this prompt, and I especially loved the last stanza of your poem: it felt like a bit of yoga-esque grounding for my day:
“I got here by there,
I’ll get there by being here.
Life shining in fog focus.”
Loved it!
My contribution for the morning is below, written as I’m visiting my daughter who is away at college. February Break for me, so I had travel time.
“Hotel Stay in Buffalo, 2025”
Eyes shift soullessly
as we pass: passing for…what?
Passive, we hide our
Aggression – public
spaces have turned arenas
And we just seem tired
Too tired to fight
Too uncertain to commune
Eyes wary, tongues tied
from even greeting
each other: “Hi!” “ How are you?”
“Where are you here from?”
Where are we all headed?
“eyes shift soulleslly” and “eyes wary, tongues tied” this line sticks out to me. I definitely feel that hotel stay when you write these lines. What a moment to capture in writing. This poem makes me want to pause even more to write about these moments. I have a son going to college next year and just did college visits last week. It will be a new fog focus for us 6 months from now, won’t it?!
Wendy,
I like how you’ve captured the vibe of the time…fatigue and questions. And it follows where you may go. I love the ambiguity of the end, visiting someplace, but still having the “big picture” question, Where are we headed?
I feel like I should’ve clarified that I didn’t write it about my daughter, lol. Instead, it’s a about how I feel when I go out in public lately — people just seem very closed-off and distant from one another, and gone is any sort of happy easiness.
Wendy,
This speaks to the uncertainty we all feel. I really like the /s/ sound repeated throughout and the image of streets as arenas.
Wendy, wow. Such a great image of the signs of the times. “Too tired to fight / Too uncertain to commune” And that last line. Yes, indeed, “Where are we all headed?” because I guess we are all going the same place at the end of this chapter.
Wendy, you so captured the weariness and wariness of our times…we have all become suspicious, skeptical… not so Blanche DuBois anymore, “depending on the kindness of strangers” (although maybe she’s not exactly the best example). Point being…I’ll turn to The Bard…where is “the milk of human kindness” these days? Souls are desperately craving that compassion, I think…and true connection. So much food for thought here!!
Amber, what a great invitation to observe. I love your fog example, which is a perfect way to see the unknown and appreciate each one.bite.at.a.time day we are afforded. Thank you.
Patriotism
shines through warriors under
Mother’s spacious sky
Denise, love, love! Was this a personal picture, I’m guessing? Did you attend the protest?
Yes, Wendy. I was there in Palm Springs and took this photo. I loved singing “America” with many LGBTQ+ folks and allies.
<3 <3
Denise, your picture holds so many emotions. But I’m captivated by the clear and crisp blue sky with the “Red, White, and Blue”. It’s a great complement to the world I hope…”shines through warriors under”. Thank you for sharing.
Denise! I am forever awed by those who can use a single word for a line in a haiku. You have captured this so well. The use of “warriors” is inspiring. I hope so! I hope so much so! Thank you for including the picture. What a message you have brought today!
Denise,
Thanks for the photo. It was a little shot in the arm. I like the matriarchal tone, and a tie to nature. It is nice to think of it as a light, shining in spite of things.
Denise, thank you for being a patriot and reminding us of the importance of being warriors for all of us. Looked like a perfect day for a rally!
Denise,
This is patriotism—activism. Love the bright blue sky.
Denise, the play on America the Beautiful’s “spacious sky” lyric juxtaposed with Mother (Jones) is mighty. And I am awed by the actual sky here in the photo. This beautiful earth needs our great care… that is where my mind goes, back to our original role as stewards.
Hi, Amber! Thank you for today’s prompt. I love haiku and any form with 5-7-5 so I have my poem ready early. When you punctuated One. Bite. At. A.Time it reminds me of the need to be more present while eating. I aim for that today. No rushing at lunch time to gobble and get work finished. I will savor every bite! Thank you!
Refrigerator
Waits for me to settle down
Listen to its hum
Freeway traffic’s pace
Calls me notice people
Where are they going
White space on the page
Begs for poetry or prose
What shall I compose
© Stacey L. Joy, 2/18/25
Stacey, this felt like Amber’s poem — a call to settle down and listen. I’m taking your advice and doing some box breathing right now. Loved it and thanks for the reminder.
The list of things: refrigerator, traffic, the page all open for you to be present.
Stacey! What a great treat to have your poem with this image. Thank you for sharing it in this way. As I was mentioning to another writer, I am so in awe with those of you who can use one word for an entire line of a haiku. Well done! And the added element of sound using “hum” pulls me in to the moment with you.
Stacey, I like how listening to refrigerator’s hum is a sign that you are observing and paying attention. Lovely meta poem about your pre-writing state.
Stacey, I love the invitation (and insistence!) in your last stanza: the “White space on the page / Beg[ging] for poetry or prose”!
Droplets on windshields
today, can I stay home?
rainy day schedule
shortened lunchtime, why?
auditorium too small
custodian mad
children love splashing
running in the rain makes sense
let me retire now.
Seana, your last line: lol. The middle stanza was too relatable! All the little aggravations of the day conspire against us, and it’s so important to look for those moments and people that re-energize us. Loved the vividness of this poem and the reflections it inspired.
We recently questioned our administration again about rainy day schedule, and wondered why lunch should be shortened. After much contemplation, she finally gave us our full lunch. Nothing is different in the rain other than the children are in the auditorium. I think she realized they’re more entertained in the auditorium and stay out of trouble than they would be on the playground!😂😂
I think we’re in luck and we have mild weather the rest of the week. I love the image of kids playing in the puddles. Thank you for that sweet reminder.
Rainy days for teachers and custodians can be hard. “Let me retire now” echoes with me.
Oh no! This seems like a day that might need all the tools in the toolbox to get through. The line “custodian mad” followed by “children love splashing” hits me the most for some reason…makes me want to chuckle just a little bit. Kids being kids. I wonder what a haiku from them would look like today.
I have the giggles after reading this. The words, “custodian mad” next to the lines of children splashing made me picture you rolling your eyes and ready to retire.
Seana,
Love the mic drop last line. I say that more often these days, but don’t really mean it. I think it is the hat we wear as veteran teachers. I feel it is pretty specific to one day in particular for you, and that’s why it reads universal for me as a teacher. Thanks for letting me empathize.
Seana, perfect! Teachers of young children can all relate to the “rainy day schedule” Heck, I can even remember those days as a student. It changes everything. That last line cracks me up. Sometimes we feel like that on such days.
Thanks for the prompt, Amber. I have been trying to do a haiku a day, so this was really dropped into my lap. Yesterday’s snow came to mind for me in this attempt.
Like boyhood walks home
the snow falls meandering,
light and curious.
Loved this gentle imagery. <3
Hi Rex! I loved the lightness of your haiku and the perfect metaphor…
I love the word choice of “meandering” as snowflakes do.
Oh! A haiku a day!!!! What a great way to welcome more writing into your space. I might have to take up that challenge myself.
“light and curious” is such a boyhood thing…I was one of those girls that always played and hung out with the boys. It is precisely the “meandering” that made that time in my youth enjoyable. Finding ways to tap back into that as an adult has been adventurous.
Thank you for sharing this!
(P.S. My 11-year-old son just went outside in the falling snow…definitely curious…definitely meandering with the snow.)
Rex, such a lovely snowfall you describe here. Meandering is a great word to describe how the flakes fall. A “light and curious” snow sounds wonderful and safe.
Rex, the personification gives your poem warmth, Maybe it’ll melt some of the snow along the way. :-). We’ve got inches here and it was only 7 degrees!
Amber, thank you for hosting todays open write. Your poem helped me appreciate what’s out my window, even if foggy! My early mornings provide me with glistening beauty especially as the sunrises across our snow covered lake. Thanks for helping me look and admire today. I needed a bit of peace.
Early morning light
Peeks over the nearby trees
Casting pink shadows
Brightening skies near
glistening landscapes appear
finding peace at last
By taking the time to observe and write, you set a lovely stage for your day. Way to go, Christine!
Christine, the beauty of the morning is the best! I have been noticing those pink skies, too, when I’ve been out early walking the dogs. Cotton Candy skies are the best way to begin the day!
What a lovely view of the peace you found, Christine. Complete with a snow covered lake. It sounds beautiful. So glad you stopped to enjoy it this morning. By the way, Christine, I read your poem from yesterday and didn’t make it back to comment. Thank you for the vulnerable and beautiful poem that spoke volumes with the image you shared of the elderly Valentine couple. Peace.
Loved this gentle, peaceful slice of your morning. Thanks for sharing it with us, Christine!
Christine, I’m so glad that you were able to find a bit of peace to admire today.
“pink shadows” seems like such a lovely way to start a day. (I live by Grand Lake of the Cherokees in Oklahoma, so I understand that lake life. I can see the lake and the sunrise if I peer out my windows just right.) I can see what you write…I want to close my eyes and picture that for long moments today or in any moment I might just need a little bit of those “pink shadows”. Thank you for sharing this.
I can see it all, Christine – and I savor that precious peace.
Christine, it’s interesting that you see pink shadows! They seem more inviting than the grim shadows we had this morning. But alas, by noon it was so bright, I almost needed sunglasses in the house. The glistening finally came, just as you’ve shown in your poem. Thanks for the reminder that waiting sometimes pays off beautifully, like waiting to read your lovely poem!
I love the signage
(but hate the fact it’s needed)
at the pharmacy:
Please, remember that
we are someone’s loved ones, too.
Be kind and patient.
____________________________________________
Amber, thank you for your mentor poem and your prompt today! And thanks for the reminder and opportunity to be present and take a moment to observe and take in the world around us!
Scott, you say so much in just a few lines. What a good detail to observe and think about.
Scott, so true! I often think the same of signs I see here and there – clever and true, and still wondering what prompted someone to put them up.
Scott—the truth is so stein here. It is so easy to forget, isn’t it?
Love this reminder to be human(e) and your capturing of it in this poem. <3
Your line “please, remember that” is so fitting for a message that someone used their voice to say what needed to be heard. Thank you for bringing this to the surface in observing what is around us.
Scott, so true. Why do we need to remind people of such things. You made a rich observation of humanity, and I agree: “hate the fact it’s needed”
Yes, it’s sad that we humans require such reminders to be kind and patient…I can only imagine what a pharmacy deals with on a daily basis, especially when meds are out of stock – yikes. By the same token, when I am checking out at a store or ordering at a counter and the cashier is genuinely friendly and courteous, I find it notable. That is also sad – it used to be the norm! You have given us just six lines here and we can extrapolate infinite societal decline, alas. Simply powerful. Also: I read your amazing Band-Aid poem yesterday and am now going back to comment 🙂
Amber–I love me a good haiku! I appreciate the day you see ahead–fit and fat. A positive metaphor! I walked out into fog the other day–your poem serves it well–the isolation and calm it provides. My poem is somewhat more turbulent. The pet distribution system broke down over our house last month and we gained a kitten and a young Maltese. I did not know how crazy Maltese dogs were. I do now. Little Bit (the kitten) has become part of the dog squad, ruling the gang, Chaos reigns these days.
Mornings
Three dogs and one cat
A flurry of morning tails
The stairs a freeway
It must have been years
since their last meal, They are starved-
(strong motivation).
The old cats await
More dignity, less passion.
They know the drill well.
Cats take their places;
Dogs out, dogs in. Whines and whirls
commence. Chaos ensues.
I open the MAGIC
CAN, from which all joy flows.
Anxiety grows.
New dog spins madly.
Middle dog’s moans increase.
Will there be enough?
The cats stare at me
as cats will do. They’re sure their
servant will come through.
Finally, breakfast
Is served, peace is restored
A sigh of relief.
(mine!)
To be repeated
Tomorrow and tomorrow…
Every, Morning.
GJ Sands
2-18-25
Gayle, I laughed out loud at this: I did not know how crazy Maltese dogs were. I do now.
Perfect introduction to your poem, and of course the cats, crazy cats! The rhyme here is perfect – – I now want to go and write a rhyming haiku.
The cats stare at me
as cats will do. They’re sure their
servant will come through.
100 percent nail on the head with the cat confidence here!
Wow, how I felt the chaos in these words. Kudos to you for taking on this pet distribution! Where did you find time to pen such a fun verse? Thank you for the much needed laugh
Gayle, I’m echoing Kim: I laughed out loud. We have two cats (one old, one a kitten) and a puppy, and this was so relatable! Loved your vivid language — and your Shakespearean nod at the end! 🙂
Oh, Gayle! I definitely think you have captured the observation of exhaustion that comes with this situation you are in. “tomorrow and tomorrow…/Every, Morning.” I can picture you sitting there, observing them, writing it out.
It seems like the animals are in good hands. Maybe as you take those steps through the fog some things will change and become more clear to the animals that it’s okay to relax. They are lucky to have you.
Gayle, I love every bit of this critter madness. You captured the personalities so well. Poor “starved” things, ha. Since my youngest moved out with the dachshund I have felt lonely…for the dog (don’t tell my boy that, please!!).
Gayle, what a fun glimpse into your “Every, Morning”! This cracked me up so much: “It must have been years / since their last meal” I love the aloofness of the cats and the high-strung activity of the dogs.
Amber, nothing makes my heart sing like the simple power of a haiku. Your fog focus rings true for the state of where things are right about now in life and in the world. Thank you for hosting us today!
life rhythms in taps
fingers counting syllables
taking it all in
making sense this way
of all that’s illogical
poems can do that
Love this one!!! I do all those things 😊!!
awesome!!
Excellent!! so true. There is such joy in the tapping. And your second stanza–sbsolutely true!
Yes! Poems can make sense of the illogical for sure. Thank you for reminding me of that. This month’s open write has reminded me once again of the need for more poetry in my life!!!
Kim, loved this very meta poem about haiku crafting and your rumination on the power of words and syllables. Lovely poem to start off the morning!
Kim?! How do you do it? These two stanzas capture the essence of being in the power of writing a haiku and poetry so well: “fingers counting syllables” and “poems can do that”
Yes, poems DO make sense of all that’s illogical, and my heart sins alongside yours with love of haiku! I wrote yesterday’s poem in haiku and voila – today another run with the form. Your first haiku here – so metaphorical re: life, and so literal re: writing this form. I have been finger tapping syllable counts over and over in composition these tow days – still, I missed a couple of syllables partway through (now fixed). Nevertheless, I will say again that I adore haiku story poems, and again, you reign supreme, Haiku Queen!
Lol – my heart SINGS alongside yours – not sins! However, that would make for additional interesting prompts, bahahaha! <3
Kim, I love poems about process. This is a winner. You have caught the observation of yourself as a writer. Your poem reminds me of Stacey’s today. And yes, to making sense of things through poetry. Hooray for that.
Yes! I love working out syllables and trying to make sense of ideas. A haiku ars poetica.
Kim, this was fun! Talking about what we’re trying to do by doing. That’s clever!
Amber, how lucky you are to be traveling with students abroad! And how lucky they are to explore the world. Yesterday was a powerful day. I couldn’t leave it silent.
Blizzard 50501
mid-February
arrived with bitter temps
alongside harsh winds
too cold for snowmen
(the flakes refused to bond –
preferring to blow)
but not too cold
for snow citizens, united
who braved the cold
bonding together
single flakes became a storm
of democracy
Jennifer–Oh, how I hope we can form that blizzard. What a wonderful way of linking the weather (accurate for Maryland this year) to the world’s state (equally apt). Let the snow citizens unite!
“Bonding together single flakes became a storm” I love the power of these words and the hope you’ve provided to me this morning . Thank you for showing up and creating a blizzard for change. I was babysitting my grandchildren and unable to show up and so I appreciate you and your actions.
Jennifer, loved this! Where was your protest? Did you attend? We were supposed to have one in Syracuse, but I couldn’t even see across the street to drive. 🙁
Lansing MI. Received notice that it was cancelled two days before but wasn’t sure if that was real so took a chance and went. Lots of people out.
let’s hope Jennifer, what a great metaphor you’ve created… snow refusing to bond, preferring to blow…and the beloved (to me) snow citizens who braved the cold to become a storm for democracy… just loved this!
Jennifer, traveling with students is one of my passions. Travel has had an impressive impact on my own life and I want that for others.
I think you have brought to my attention that there are definitely profound moments that I need not let pass by without capturing them in writing. Thank you for brining that recognition today. “but not too cold / for snow citizens, united” and “single flakes became a storm” are the lines that speak to me the most, because they demonstrate the power and loyalty in the act of showing up.
Jennifer,
Isn’t all this midwestern snow a joy?
I love how you mingle the weather with what’s going on in our world.
Beautiful imagery and metaphor, Jennifer – too cold for snowmen (Lafo could attest, ha) but not too cold for snow citizens to bond together. So powerfully crafted – as always, from your amazing mind and heart.
Jennifer, hooray for you and those last two stanzas. “snow citizens, united” Thank you so much for braving the cold. I’m sure you were freezing cold, but what strength and satisfaction you must have felt being one of those single flakes that are becoming “a storm / of democracy” Thank you for being out there in Lansing!
Hooray! Citizens braving the cold for a vital purpose gives me hope.
CHISELS
Sight of gems 💎
Are just beyond my reach.
though I chisel them
everyday.
Into the world,
I cannot hold them,
though,
I mold them
in different ways.
Around thieves,
I want to
protect them,
and not,
neglect them,
As they shine each day.
My hands are weary,
As I kneel for them,
as the journey,
becomes real for them,
Still I pray.
Some gems 💎
Glow for me,
and I know I’ll see them,
sparkle ✨ along
their way.
For those that dim,
must,
chisel in grim,
and
remember what
I say….
” Life is a chisel
We are stones,
Learn to chisel
on your own,
For one day,
You will be alone,
Carry my chisel,
To Chisel on!
-Boxer
Boxer–wow.
My hands are weary,
As I kneel for them,
as the journey,
becomes real for them,
If that isn’t teaching, I don’t know what is. Beautiful!
The passing of the torch, the leaving of the chiseling legacy, gems as children and blessings of family. This is lovely!
“For those that dim, / must, / chisel in grim” is a line that I connect with because it speaks to that message that the chiseling still must continue no matter what…the consistency can allow them to shine in their way
Clayton, what a powerful poem. I thought of being a teacher and a parent throughout. Lovely metaphors for life with great advice.
Hi Amber
I am thinking of our wintry conditions out the window, and then, despite my attempts not to do so, a channeling of news headlines as metaphor.
Kevin
Beneath snow,
ice — an invisible
layer of danger
Tread carefully
where nature is known
to harden in form
We wander this world
always on the edge
of collapse
Kevin, I wish it were not true, but here we are. On the edge of collapse. I appreciate the connections to nature, the subtlety of the nods.
Kevin–our ice today is so darned slippery–and moving so quickly. Your poem expresses it perfectly. I fear it is hardening as we write.
So much here, Kevin – – each chain link of the haiku holds its own depth of thought, metaphors for the world as it is. Such a powerful and apt ending – – always on the edge of collapse. So much truth.
Kevin, wow! For me your last stanza captivates the energy between the idea of stopping or continuing. At this age in my life it does feel a bit like wandering the world in anticipation of what might collapse…but I do it anyway, because I’m a wanderer…”tread[ing] carefully”
Kevin,
I love your first stanza
A month back we had that kind snow where it was snow, ice, snow . . . that invisible layer of danger. Our dog freaked out when his feet fell through the ice. He felt trapped and would not move.
I appreciate the truth about the underlayer. I’m tired of being gaslit. Let’s call it what it is out loud.
Whoa, Kevin – that last stanza packs a wallop of truth. The build-up with warning words about ice and nature hardening… powerful.
Kevin, thank you for speaking in poems about the headlines. “We wander this world / always on the edge / of collapse” I notice that short last line and it is abrupt and perfect here. God save us.
Amber, I love a haiku-story and this invitation to write reflectively on something we’ve observed. Your word choices and punctuation make the syllabic haiku rhythm flow like a dream – not to mention the wonderful play with fog and focus as a title and in that last stanza. Magnificent! Thank you for this.
Here’s to Life and Lafo
The snow is too cold
and powdery for packing
but it’s the first time
in her three sweet years
we’ve had enough snow to try
making a snowman.
We scrape buckets full
as her little hands turn red.
She has no mittens.
I give her my own.
They’re far too big and floppy
but she doesn’t mind.
Face aglow with glee
she lugs the snow bucket to
her big sister who
creates a snow-heap.
Shifting, slippery, shapeless…
but we still love it
our tiny snow-mound.
Red and green Hershey’s Kisses
make a shiny smile.
Green olives for eyes.
A tiny tomato nose
(I’m out of carrots).
She proudly chooses
these facial features herself,
bringing her snowman
to life. I find twigs for arms
under the pines and Sister
crafts a tuft of hair
out of pine needles.
We name him Lafo
(Olaf spelled backwards).
Lafo has few days
as temperatures go back
to the seventies.
Traces of him stay
longer than I expected.
The Kisses fall off
and I salvage them
(as wild creatures shouldn’t eat
foil and chocolate).
Each day, the remains
of Lafo remind me of
my beloved girls
and that our time here
together is brief as snow.
Let us pack it well.
Wonderfully done!
“Face aglow with glee”
Yeah!
Kevin
P.S. So… Lafo is not Olaf spelled backwards, right?!? Alas. We named our snowman Falo. However… when I thought of the title, I liked it too much to change it back, so a revision reads:
We name him Lafo
(Olaf’s name scrambled).
Fran, you are such a gifted storyteller, carrying us through from beginning to end in wonder. I love Lafo (at first I thought it was an initialism, a kind of fafo, so I was even more delighted to discover the backwards Olaf!). Your last stanza is perfection.
FRan–what joy you give us this morning. And then that last thought. So very true…
“and that our time here
together is brief as snow.
Let us pack it well.”
Fran, Lafo is just a perfect metaphor for the time we have here, together with our littles, making memories. This picture on your blog today is priceless. The Hershey Kisses mouth is so much better than little lumps of coal, and the tomato nose is far truer than any carrot ever was. Olive eyes are just perfect. So much love in these lines. I hope you are making a book of all these memories with your granddaughters so that they will be able to treasure it for years and years and years to come.
Beautiful, Fran! A lovely moment captured in the most lovely imagery. Love your last line! 🙂
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, for bringing this story in verse to us. “Let us pack it well” invites me, as the reader and a mom, to think about these little moments we have in the present time with our children. What a special way you captured that in the melting process of Lafo. May you have many more stories to capture in verse for your beloved girls. <3
The aside about being out of carrots had me laughing out loud. This is a precious portrait of a day with the grands. I feel like I was there!
Oh, Fran, big tears fall from my eyes on that last beautiful haiku. You effortlessly tell this story with the haiku form. Just gorgeous. I was there with you on each detail of this priceless memory.
Thank you, Amber! I’d love to pack myself in your bag for Greece. A very long time ago I spent two years teaching at the American Community School of Athens. It was a fabulous experience! I do love a good haiku…the syllable limit is helps me get creative.
february sun
loves a broad stretch of tree line
hide and seek shadows
the scent of snow melt
earth puts down her heavy load
straightens and inhales
There is something magical about the sunshine in deep February, particularly after a storm.
Kevin
Linda, how beautiful! The hide and seek of shadows captures the movement in the tree line perfectly (I want to steal that line!). We are not to the point of snow melt (negative temps this week) and I can not wait! Inhaling. Setting aside loads. Bring on spring!
This phrase–earth puts down her heavy load/straightens and inhales. Wow.
Linda, this line grabs me: earth puts down her heavy load……ah, I can feel the straightening and inhaling. The spring thaw is on its way, and I feel it here.
“The scent of snow melt” — what a great image — I could smell it!
Linda, I would love it if you would pack inside my bag as well. What a great experience you must have had. (Perhaps you can send me a list of people…I could get a coffee with them and give them a hug for you). I have never been to Greece, so this will be a great adventure. I’m glad to hear it is a place cherished by others (you)…it makes me even more excited to get this opportunity for myself and my students.
I appreciate how you have captured winter in February with your line “February sun / loves a broad stretch of tree line”…it is warm and inviting. My birthday is in February, but I really like summer most, so this line is something that almost feels like myself to the core. Thank you for that!
Amazing personification, Linda – I can feel how the February sun loves a broad stretch of tree line with the shadow play. And I am with earth here, ready to put my burdens down, refreshed by inhaling the sent of snow melt. Just gorgeous!
Linda, beautiful. Such clever images. I love “earth puts down her heavy load” Lovely!