Our Host: Gayle Sands
Gayle lives in Taneytown, MD. She quickly de-retired after her exit from 27 years of teaching middle-school English, Today, she supervises secondary education practicum students for McDaniel College. When not supervising, she wrangles her curmudgeonly husband and growing menagerie. The pet distribution system stalled near her home recently, depositing a kitten in her bushes and a Maltese rescue at the neighbor’s house, bringing her pet population to four cats and three small, useless, (loud) dogs. When not scolding her pets, she reads, does watercolor, and attends dance classes.
Inspiration
“To truly cherish the things that are important to you,
you must first discard those that have outlived their purpose.”
Marie Kondo
Goodbye, 2024. Hello, 2025. I say that with some trepidation, but we must enter this new year. It is shaping up to be a challenging one. Marie Kondo says, “Does it spark joy?” (The Norwegians say, ”I am up and not crying.”)
These days, so many things spark anxiety that I have decided to declutter my life and look for joy. How will you KonMari in 2025? No specific form is required or even encouraged. There is no pressure. We have enough pressure, already.
Process
Think back over the last year or two. What things made you smile? What things made you happy? Alternatively, what things weighed you down, made life more difficult? Make a list of each. Choose those things that you would like to keep in your life and which things you would set aside. As Marie would say, only keep what sparks joy.
In the first stanza, list the keepers; the second stanza is for the discards. Begin each stanza with a statement of intention and allow your thoughts to wander a bit.
Poem by Gayle
Kon-Marie Rules for 2025
Joy-sparkers abound, but sometimes you have to pursue them.
I will seek them out–pleasure is so easily overlooked–
and build a tall wall of gratitude. I’ll begin with…
The scuttering of three dogs’ and two cats’ feet,
escorting me down the stairs in the morning–
(I know it’s about breakfast, but I tell myself it’s love.)
The way my creamer swirls in the first cup of coffee.
Wordle success on the second try.
Knowing that my husband is still sleeping upstairs.
A quiet house while he sleeps.
Nonjudgmental yoga pants.
A dog snuggled on either side and a cat warming my lap.
Books to read and time to read them.
Warm blankets.
British TV mysteries.
Laughter.
Naps.
Outlived things accumulate if you don’t pay attention.
Misery loves company.
My discard pile will grow….
Television news. Usually bad; seldom good.
Old resentments that cannot be resolved.
Fretting about things out of my control.
(Politics, anyone?)
Noticing the jiggly bits around my middle.
Tight clothes (see “jiggly bits”)
Uncomfortable shoes
Mistakes I have made.
My lost youth.
Marie has the right idea.
Gayle Sands
1/3/2025
Gail, thank you for hosting today. This prompt was very healing. As I am focusing on myself more in 2025, I’ve needed to unleash pent-up feelings, but release the overflow of goodness. I resonated with your first line, “Joy-sparkers abound, but sometimes you have to pursue them.” “In pursuit” is a phrase I’m living out this year. I love the hyphenated “Joy-sparkers”. If I may use this to call the good things that are happening this year? I’m ready to reclaim my joy!
Release, Unleash
2024 opened doors for 2025 to slide through
Purposeful pursuits and fearful fate
calm and quiet, like I like it.
Officially a published Word Slinger and
random road trips with the Bestie.
Newfound friendships with long-lost strangers,
community spaces widened, fellowships welcomed.
My name whispered in places I couldn’t imagine,
Zoom roundtables and laidback podcasts.
Did I mention I’ve lost over 40 pounds?
Slamming the door to the past pains
Mental instability with a 30-nager.
Walking on Legos and over a mound of clothes.
Bitter, broken, and beaten-Parenthood I tell ya.
Couple that with irresponsible, irritable, and irate
Entitled, enraged, and egregious middle-schoolers
And you have a concoction of crap.
Logging in to LinkedIn daily when my feels get the best of me.
Logging off when none of the positions are my dream.
Redundant chaos.
Jessica, congratulations on that weight loss. Wow! I love all the things you are keeping. So much good spills out of each line. Then the abrupt start of the second stanza, with “Slamming…” is so powerful. And wow, you picked some adjectives there, expertly alliterized. Very good! All the best for 2025 to bring some good changes for you in conquering your “redundant chaos”
Jessica,
You offer the two stanzas as two sides ever so linked and shaped by the other. I see the “purposeful pursuits” with such agency in the first in the courage and choices. Wow. And then some of the same agency or maybe actions in “slamming” and “waling” and “logging” — there is a searching and maybe a knowing of how time shapes things. Very powerful poem.
Sarah
Jessica—This is a strong and meaningful poem. Two phrases stood out to me(perhaps because all the rest of the poem spoke to me)—a concoction of crap may enter a conversation with me someday. And redundant chaos—wow. Your alliteration and word choices—wow.
Gayle, I, too, njoy British movies. They seem to be more character driven than special effects, and therefore more relaxing to view. One of my favorite writers is Catherine Cookson and more than two dozen films have been made of her novels! Check them out, some time. .
Added to my list! Thank you.
Gayle, I appreciate your prompt. I drafted a few things, but had to work on a different draft for a deadline so I am simply sharing an adage, I feel sums up the way I’d like my world to be.
When Shit Hits the Fan
bless me with sunshine
redbud trees and ocean waves
excise my fears, dry my tears
today I will face the world unafraid
Barb Edler
19 January 2025
Barb, that title of yours is no joke. I am attracted to the world you want to see, and I am drawn to your bravery: “today I will face the world unafraid.”
Hey, Barb – These are worthy words. Strong woman words. Hugs, Susie. Happy New Year, my friend!
Barb–words for these times! May we all face the world unafraid…
Barb,
This is perfect. It’s a prayer. I love the title and its incongruous phrasing when compared to the rest of the poem. I hope we can “face the world unafraid.”
Barb, I am taking that sweet adage as a prayer! I love the title and then the peacefulness of the poem. Absolutely powerful and healing. “today I will face the world unafraid” I’m taking that with me.
Oh, Barb. The word “excise” has layers of meaning for me here. I love the redbud trees and ocean waves being the ones to excise and dry.
Sarah
Hi, Gayle! Thank you for the prompt and for opportunity to think about things that bring me joy and comfort. You reminded us all today that enjoying little things and precious moments of happiness is what we need to stay sane and grounded these days. Love this line of yours: “The way my creamer swirls in the first cup of coffee.” I don’t add creamer to my coffee, but I love the way it looks in someone else’s cup 🙂
Holding onto Little Joys
I will cling to cozy evenings,
To books that take me to unknown shores,
To words that bring comfort,
To emotions blooming in soft light.
I will relish Sunday morning coffee,
With a friend sharing stories,
Care, kindness, small gestures—
Fleeting, precious, heartwarming.
I will embrace short visits,
Grandchildren pulling me toward wonder,
Their sparkling curiosity leading
To discoveries unexpected and magical.
I will treasure the warmth of family,
Morning walks with my hubby,
First sun rays, the whispering ocean,
And love found in the simplest gestures.
But I will cast away the weight,
Of worries that cannot be mended,
The chase for grand, elusive dreams,
And regrets too heavy to hold.
I will relinquish the noise of hysteria,
The clamor of clashing ambitions,
And those who bend to shifting winds,
Trading souls for shallow rewards.
I will discard old shoes and tired dreams,
What-ifs and restless doubts,
Clearing space for quiet joys to thrive,
For moments that heal my being.
I will carry my heart tenderly,
Cradling the little things—
The stolen minutes of happiness,
And the quiet grace of simply living.
Leilya, I like the rhythm of your poem and how its sounds are soothing. I like the two things you will discard, old shoes and tired dreams, together for me to wonder about. What tired dreams do you have? Do I have? I am wanting to embrace quiet grace but my days seem to fill up with too many things to check off my list. Are you getting the snow? We have a nice few days of no school so I can embrace some quiet.
Thank you, Margaret! It just feels that I am always chasing, chasing, chasing, some dream of getting to a certain place in life when I feel that I’ve done what I wanted. I forget to enjoy the moment.
Yes, there is a “rain snow” in the forecast for Tuesday, and I hope to see some snow. We, too, have transitioned to remote teaching on Tuesday and Wednesday.
This is a real gem, Leilya! The way you structure each stanza, using a different verb to express the idea of holding and releasing really helps propel the poem forward. I have always been touched by your incredible positivity and this poem captures that so well. It’s so beautifully crafted that it needs to be hanging on a wall in your home.
You are so kind, Susan! Now I just need to learn how to live like I described in this poem )) I understand too well what and how should I do, but in reality, behind my very positive and smiling face, there is so much worry.
Leilya, your poem is uplifting and lovely. I appreciate all of the things you will relinquish and discard such as “old shoes and tired dreams”. Your last line is pure perfection! Thank you for sharing such an excellent poem with us.
Leila— This is almost lilting, it’s so hopeful. Made me smile.
my favorite…
”I will relinquish the noise of hysteria,
The clamor of clashing ambitions,
And those who bend.., trading souls for shallow rewards.” So well said!
All the “I will…” repetition brought a comforting strength. Thank you, Susie
Leilya–Your poem is calming, a rhythm that slows me down, allows me to breathe. This stanza is beautiful.
I will discard old shoes and tired dreams,
What-ifs and restless doubts,
Clearing space for quiet joys to thrive,
For moments that heal my being.
May you enjoy that quiet grace…
Leilya,
This is stunning and beautiful. My favorite lines are these:
“I will relinquish the noise of hysteria,
The clamor of clashing ambitions,
And those who bend to shifting winds,
Trading souls for shallow rewards.”
Like you, I have no use for those shallow fools out for rewards at the expense of others. Great poem!
Leilya, this line grabbed me and wouldn’t let go:
I will discard old shoes and tired dreams
There is something sobering about tired dreams – – when the dream has long been in place, and then suddenly the truth pops up that it’s really not a front burner dream anymore. Simple things replace the lofty, energy-rich dreams – – and overseas travel has become that for me except for one remaining place I would love to see that is not on this continent. I’m finding that “noise of hysteria” is also just maddening – – I felt it today in the car. Your thoughts draw me in and I find so many parallels – – – the hallmark of such a relatable poem!
Leilya, this is gorgeous. So much beauty and gentleness in all the things you are holding on to. These lines stood out to me, as I think of all those who have bent…
So powerful. And I also love that at the end you came back with a final stanza of what you will hold.
Keep Pedaling
Heave the dog crate–
any more dogs, a real long-shot;
Chuck the miter saw–
a carpenter you’re not;
Burn the old xmas cards–
even the financial guy sends his via bot;
Upcycle the iPad–
haven’t touched it in years;
Cull the academic books–
nobody cares “how to write…” I fear;
Jettison the knee replacement medicine journals–
how many pills did I take; the pain was infernal!?!
Forsake the camping gear–
Best Western’s so easy;
Slough the plastic without lids–
to hell with the leftovers, they just make me queasy;
Deep-six the rakes that blistered my thumbs–
hire the hard-working lawn guy with cheeks just like plums;
Eschew the news that wears camo–
the truth’s in your heart, right there’s the ammo.
And
Hang onto that bicycle in the corner of the garage–
might be more than a wishful mirage.
Keep pedaling.
by Susie Morice, January 19, 2025©
Susie, I like the verbs you chose for discarding things you don’t want to keep. You chose them intentionally, so they “appear with attitude” to me. The title and the final line, to me, carry the idea of moving on, facing the obstacles, and persevering, in addition to exercising or enjoying biking. Thank you for your wisdom today!
Yes, Susie, keep pedaling, my friend! You chose the perfect format for your poem. I can see you picking each item up and chucking it! My favorite lines:
I am not into camping and would definitely prefer the Best Western option. 😂
Love seeing you here! Hugs!🤗
This is delightful! I have all of those things and more that I need to get rid of. And all the ways to make life work without them. Keep pedaling! A great mantra!
Susie,
Your very specific images really add power to your poem. I think you artfully used about every word possible to capture the action of getting rid of something. But I’m sure glad you’re going to hang on to that bike@
What a marvelous poem, Susie. I can see everything you try to do and how it could be quite easy to give up especially to the “lawn guy with cheeks just like plums”…love that description! I like how you have the And break the end of the poem and separate “Keep pedaling.” I know how much you love to ride. Hey, Best Westerns are easy. Hope to hear you’re riding that bike very soon. Hugs!
Ooh, Susie! You said it. “Eschew the news that wears camo–the truth’s in your heart, right there’s the ammo.” I’m going to hold onto that truth for as long as it takes. As to the chucking, it sure feels good. Keep pedaling, indeed!
Susie–keep pedaling…I’m glad you hung on to that bicycle. The cheekiness of this line made me smile– “hire the hard-working lawn guy with cheeks just like plums”.
Love the tone and the message!
Susie,
The swap of the rake for the lawn guy is a fantastic idea! Your rhyme and your form with the line indent is just fun – – the reader’s eye helps the ear see the lilt of line. I jettisoned a couple of shelves of academic books at work and at home this past spring, and I must say I haven’t missed them one bit. I like your way of thinking on hanging onto the bike – I am envisioning something in yellow or turquoise with a basket of flowers and a funky horn. I want three wheels on mine, given my track record with injury. I’ll come ride with you! And watch you paint a watercolor of the bike.
Susie,
I love the compare/contrast structure in your poem. Boy do I understand some of these purges. I look at all the tool boxes in the garage and feel queasy, but they’re not mine to purge. I feel you about those old writing books, and it makes me sad. I just read Salman Rushdie’s memoir “Knife” and loved so much the language, the craft. It’s stunning. And it makes me aware of my limitations, but I’m gonna keep peddling and keep pushing words around and hope some will land.
Yes, Susie, “[k]eep pedaling”! I’m with you on “the camping gear” and the “plastic without lids,” but I can’t give up my “academic books” yet, though! I’m getting there, but I’m just not ready to part with them, lol.
Susie, what fun! I love all the commentary on all that you will discard. My favorite is
Oh, yes! Amen to all that. “right there’s the ammo”
And that surprise ending and full circle to the title. I love it!
Hi Gayle!
Thanks so much for hosting and sharing this lovely prompt and poem.
Two things in particular strike me:
1) The use of parentheticals for additional details/the further development of the speaker’s voice.
2) The visual narrowing of each stanza to a final, short line — what a fantastic way to represent the decluttering mindset. It brings to mind the poem “A Pile of Good Things” by Amy Kay (which I believe was also once an Open Write prompt!).
Though “pleasure is easily overlooked,” rest assured I greatly enjoyed reading your work on this blustery day!
Gayle,
Thanks for hosting. This is a fascinating prompt at a historic moment. I have much anxiety at this moment in time, and frankly, I place blame primarily at the feet of white women (myself included) for the hell we’re about to see unleashed on our country’s most vulnerable citizens. I didn’t write about it, but I feel a responsibility to support truth tellers and defenders of democracy financially and to be a thorn in the side of my elected *representatives.* I write a lot of emails. I’m literally decluttering as much as possible so appreciate Marie Kondo for that. I love your keep list. And I find joy in young people who still believe in our country. I’m a bit more tainted in my outlook.
As Hell Freezes Over
I will wrap
myself in words—
poet’s musings,
storyteller’s worlds
memoirist’s thoughts
I will explore &
discover places,
people, possibility,
ancient lands.
I will escape
into HGTV &
pixelated programs &
shout at talking
heads & tech bros
who carry
authoritarian H2O.
I will indulge in
white woman
privilege & hone
my keyboard
warrior skills.
I will look away
from injustice when
the planet responds
in ways inconvenient
to my little life &
when politicians
wield a scythe to
our democratic
freedoms I will
shrug & sip a
hot mug of tea
& say a prayer
of gratitude for
god’s grace &
mercy in my life.
What more
can one
ask of me?
Glenda Funk
1-19-25
Glenda — I was looking forward to what you would write today, as the prompt really hit in a spot that was hard to miss as we face Jan 20. Heaven help us all…indeed, “what more…”? Hugs to you. I appreciate you every day. Susie
Glenda—so true. I have become jaded, feeling as if the situation has been taken out of our hands. In the past, I fought, and those privileges we fought for were undone. Where did we go so very wrong?
Glenda,
You have shared a smart way to handle the ills of our society. Pray and give gratitude for all the mercy and grace we have! I’ll attempt to do the same. 😍
Glenda, I haven’t read a single poem until I posted mine. Now reading your poem, I can see similar thoughts about the things we would keep beginning with books, words, and worlds. Unfortunately, there are things we can’t quite change yet, and I am as anxious as many of us about tomorrow and what may follows it. I like these snappy lines:
“I will indulge in
white woman
privilege & hone
my keyboard
warrior skills.”
Your words are seen, heard, and followed. So keep honing your “warrior skills.”
Glenda, you’ve described one of my very best friends, and I so want to hand her your poem. Burying our heads in the sand will get us nowhere. I’m praying for an awakening for sure! Your poem is priceless and striking!
Glenda, wow! You are hitting homeruns in the poetry department. I find myself doing some of this too:
You have captured the tech bros mission here with such power.
Thanks Gayle! This was a great prompt to allow me some time to think of things that I definitely want to bring with me throughout the year and some of the things I would like to leave behind. I think I am still working on all these things, but it’s nice to have them in writing!
Sorting my Belongings
This year I am keeping kindness,
Gratitude and patience for those in my life.
Smiles for friends and random strangers, a “Good Morning” or “Enjoy your Weekend”.
My sense of adventure, curiousness and wonder in the world.
Enjoying the sunrise and the sunset, op
Pausing quietly to wait for the time to pass.
A Thousand Hours outside – my goal to spend more time this year in nature’s gracefulness.
I am leaving behind self punishing thoughts of being perfect.
The second thoughts, the self doubt, imposter syndrome.
The anxious reminiscing “Did I do the right thing?” Or “Was it enough?”
I won’t feel bad about taking time for me,
To rest and heal, to tend the wounds this world leave on me.
Saying “yes” too many times, when I would rather say “no”.
Mona–this line is so real–“To rest and heal, to tend the wounds this world leave on me.”
WE all need more of that, don’t we? But taking that time is hard…
Mona,
I love your poem. You have a wonderful list of things to keep. My OLW is pause. If you discover the cure for imposter syndrome, share it w/ me. You found a way to construct a wonderful leave behind list, which I struggled with.
Hi, Mona! I like how you begin your poem with intention to keep “kindness,
[g]ratitude and patience.” The world would be so much better if we all decide to keep these things. Your goal to spend more time outside is very attractive to me as well. There are days when I almost don’t go outside spending all day at the computer screen.
Amen to “leaving behind self punishing thoughts of being perfect” and “Saying “yes” too many times” are my vices as well. Thank you for sharing your thoughts! I needed to read your poem today.
Mona, I am glad I’m not the only one who questions my actions and needs to say no more often. Your opening line speaks straight to my heart. Why is it so difficult for people to be kind? Love your poem.
Thanks, Gayle, for hosting and inspiring us. Loved both the humor and wisdom of your poem.
slip
into the world
of birds
the entrance
is just
a pause
away
Sharon–this is lovely. I could feel my pulse slow as I read it!
Oh. This is beautiful. It took my breath away!
Sharon,
What a lovely thought: “slip into the world of birds,” unless the bird is a chicken. Those poor birds are having a rough time these days.
Oh, my, Sharon! This is so beautiful. I want to be right there with you by “the entrance.” I’ll be quiet, I promise.
Sharon, what a wonderful thought. “To slip into…” and you can get there with just “a pause” I feel like going out and birdwatching now. So peaceful and beautiful.
Thank you, Gayle for the prompt and the inspiration!
Things I Choose To Carry With Me …
The quiet of snow fall
Winter Wonderland blanketing all
The aroma of brewed beans & coffee shared over conversation
Those long-time friendships
Long walks that bring me to waterfalls and streams
Sea glass from the beach, so pretty
More books to read
Time with family, singing on roads trips, watching T.V.
laughing at each other’s absurdities.
The small moments
that hold us
Things I’ll Boot …
Christmas light bulbs that no longer blink
Tangled up wires that drives me to the brink
Ill fitting clothes, who needs those?
Socks without pairs
Clutter that scares
Gnawing self doubt that creeps into my heart
Stress, I need less
Worry, what’s the hurry?
Boot it all out!
Tammi, I love the form you chose here, the peaceful longer lines with less rhyme in your first stanza, and then the hurried pace–the snippets of what you are giving the boot to–just seems perfect.
Tammi–the first stanza made me sigh–those small moments. Then came your second stanza, with a different style and pace! Perfection–Boot it all out!
Gorgeous opening, Tammi! Absolutely love the sensory appeal of your opening stanza and the comfort it radiates. Your final stanza is fun, and I love how you end with “Boot it all out!” Yes!
Tammi, I think our idea of what to keep and what to discard are very similar. I didn’t think of Christmas lights “that no longer blink,” but overly commercialized holidays are so annoying. I wish we could remember the causes for celebrations more than gifts and decor. And yes, “Stress, I need less.” Love the sound of it too.
shedding
I’ve been clearing
going through closets, drawers, cabinets, shelves
things to keep, things to let go
I keep referring to this as shedding
last week as fires burned through California
I asked Collins what would you take, which mug?
and I quickly thought of the blue Melissa Weiss mug
one of those perfect handles heft and design
as I write it sits beside Collins just outside the reach
of the stream of sunlight coming through the window
touching his slipper
how quickly I move to the things that are important
I discovered the broken version of our Aloha mug this morning
for a moment I felt a twinge of ooh, but quickly righted to
it’s a souvenir shop item not nearly as magnetic as the memories
of a morning on an empty beach or
evenings watching the sun sink into the sea
a plate of shells and coral sits on our dining room table and
invites me to pick one and let my fingers fondle
yes, there are plenty of discards
plenty of pics sent to the girls with the invitation to take
there are grabs and there are goes
some days it’s difficult to find value in holding on
a recent evening in December the girls and I went
through boxes of Mom’s jewelry
bracelets and beads were taken
Rachel’s gonna start wearing beads
Laura is trying bracelets
I’m trying things one at a time
if I decide it works
I’ve got to let something go
Jamie, what a lovely narration of your morning activities and the musings they led to. So gracious and peaceful. Shedding is a good name for it. It’s on my list to do in 2025 in every space in my house.
Jamie–this poem invited us into your life just a bit. The mug’s careful description (I can see it!), the light coming in, the broken Aloha mug, your mother’s jewelry…Thank you.
Jamie,
I like your term of shedding. It does make it seem more natural and less obligatory than other phrases for cleaning out.
My favorite stanza is this one:
I like how you move us through your feelings and your inner monologue of managing your feelings. I also like the shift from valuing a man-made object to the memories it signifies to natural objects that invite touch and interaction.
Nah
no thanks
I’m good
I’ve decided
to make no
resolutions
this year
that is my
resolve
aside from
reading
writing
experiencing
more poetry
on this I am
resolute
more poetry
more poems
did you know
that Plato
wanted
to ban poets
wanted to
unalive
poetic thought
as being
too emotional
too immoral
so he disinvited poets
from his ideal state
did not give them
a seat at the table
that’s right
poets are
the uninvited guests
the wolves at the gates
the knock on the door
after midnight
so ask not
for whom the
poetry tolls
it tolls for thee
Plato and your ilk
you’d better
batten down
the hatches
stick your head
in the sand
for the poetic
spigot
is turned to full
and the
creative juices
are aflowin’
when it rains
it pours
for every
sharpened
pencil
for every
dot of ink
there is a poem
there is a poet
who can not be
silenced
who can not be
stopped
poets are the ones
who knock
remember (as the
good Lorde said)
poetry is not a
luxury
so, yeah, this
new year means
more poems more
poetry
(and, I’ll probably
try to exercise
a bit more, too)
________________________________________________
Gayle, thanks for this prompt and your mentor poem! “Books…Warm blankets. / British TV mysteries. / Laughter. / [and] Naps.” Yes, please! These are all things that spark joy for me, too!
“as the good Lorde said” 🤣
I’d raise a glass to this resolution!
Scott, I like your non-resolution. I too am resolute about spending more time “reading/writing/experiencing/poetry.” After reading several of your poems, I have to say that I really appreciate the white space. You give us space to think. Also, your almost under-the-radar references such as “Poetry is not a luxury” by Audre Lorde are not lost on us.
I don’t like Plato anymore, thanks to you, Scott!
I hope to be on the receiving end of more of your poetry. So delightful and thought-provoking!
Exercise, schmexercise!
Oh, yes, Amen to this, all of this, Scott! Here’s to a poetic spigot turned to full.
Who knew Plato was such a cad? Not I. Love the sly Lorde allusion.
Going to keep this image in mind when I write:
Thanks for sharing and inspiring.
Scott–as usual, stealing wonderful bits of words from so many places. this stanza, though, is my favorite–
that’s right
poets are
the uninvited guests
the wolves at the gates
the knock on the door
after midnight
If only we were that threatening in real life!!
Scott — This is a wonderful tribute to the power of poetry and those steadfast folks the insist on writing it. YEA! I did not know the Plato stuff… what!? Tsk! Tsk! And may the poets take their seat at the table, especially now, especially. Hugs, Susie
Hi Gayle! This was the perfect prompt as the fire crackles and lazy snowflakes start to fall. I identified with so many of the items in your discard pile, but you are right and Marie is right. Your first line drew me right in. Thanks for the reminder to embrace the quiet.
These days, grown quiet
(after the thrill of hope
and promise of joy,)
these days grown quiet.
(having turned off talking heads
regurgitating orange spew),
these days joys are simple.
like the crackled glass marble
found among dust bunnies,
the sapphire marble
lost in the dust of my mind,
I find the word I’m searching for.
I build a fire.
I light a candle.
chaos continues tomorrow but
a perfect word,
a warm fire,
a soft light.
Quietly, I will resist.
Ann,
I love your use of parentheses to add power to your words. I especially appreciate how you capture the holiday season with such subtlety:
Tuning back in and turning things back on will not be fun. Rest in the quiet!
Ann–this poem is so soothing, so calming, so gentle.
“a perfect word,
a warm fire,
a soft light.
Quietly, I will resist.”
Thank you.
Ann,
I think you have captured a lot of what I have been feeling, a shrinking back to what is simple and controllable and real in a microcosmic sense. Truth is something that lives in the quiet of our individuality. I love the quiet light stanza. Even more, the dust bunnies and sapphire is a great stanza. What was going on with that one?
Oh, Ann. There’s a gentleness here, in the quiet and soft light. The simplicity draws me in, and perhaps that’s all we’ll have amidst the chaos, all that we’ll need. I can see the slow movements, feel the promise, hear the quiet resistance (Can you hear the people sing? It began so quietly). Hugs, my friend.
Gayle, You’ve opened the confessions booth!
WONDERING WHY?
I will hold fast to things that last
Warm memories of family in times past
Collaborating with colleagues on cool projects
Reaching, teaching and learning together
Especially with my daughter who recently
Joined me on this career path
She now calls me Mentor Mom.
Working with her is the bomb
That loosened the hold on things to let go
I will let go of things that show
No value to my family, friends or me
Let loose hard feelings that do not soften
No matter how hard I pray or how often
Thankfully, politics are a passing thing
And when they do not have a harmonious bell ring
I’ll give them all a wild wide swing
Some dark things I just have to let go
So my Lord’s love and bright light can glow
Through me so others can see the value of letting go
Anna,
Your words —
“Thankfully, politics are a passing thing
And when they do not have a harmonious bell ring
I’ll give them all a wild wide swing” — are a really good reminder that we will get through these trying politically times. Some things we really do have to let pass in order to maintain our sanity.
Anna–
“Reaching, teaching and learning together
Especially with my daughter who recently
Joined me on this career path
She now calls me Mentor Mom.”
That is wonderful! It really creates a new kind of bond with your child! My grandmother was so excited when I became a teacher, and then my daughter. She taught for 37 years, starting in a one room country schoolhouse, and was so pleased to be able to talk about teaching again.
I hope this “politics” passes uneventfully…
Anna, You are the Queen of the rhyme. I love the cadence, the flow, the sounds, but mostly the words and message. This is so great that you work with your daughter in the same field now. “Mentor Mom” sounds amazing. I can sense how strongly you are rooted in your wisdom and faith. I have so much to learn from you. Thank you!
Anna, yes! I too feel the need to let things go and have trouble sometimes accepting that it’s time. Little by little, I am getting better at it, but your poem reminds me that I need to pick up the pace and let it be.
Gayle, what a great new year’s prompt. It is a safer and special way to consider the new year and priorities. Thank you for it. I’ve been promising to go through all my cupboards and take a swipe at all the things that don’t bring me joy (or at least utility), so maybe you and Marie have inspired me. “Nonjudgmental yoga pants” makes me smile. Yes!
I choose to keep
hikes around Abel’s Mountain,
the flickering candle under
this pot of masala chai,
writing one line a day
in my five-year memory book,
crocheting with a backrub
from my husband
and a good movie in front of us,
Spanish with Duolingo and Rocío,
healthy eating to lower my A1C,
my trusty Kindle
and extensive Libby library,
skylight apricity,
the ERA,
Curiosity,
Resilience,
Resistance,
Justice, and
Mercy.
Time to rid myself of
overflow in the back recesses
of my cupboards,
binge watching poor shows,
throwing my hands up
in surrender to oligarchy.
I love that you identify moments – hikes around Abel’s Mountain, habits – crocheting, and ideas – resilience to hold on to – and rid yourself of items – in the back recesses of my cupboards, habits – throwing my hands up in surrender to oligarchy – hopefully the resilience will help here
Denise,
The things you are choosing to keep sound so mindful and relaxing, especially “the flickering candle under/
this pot of masala chai,writing one line a day” — I hope those things bring you joy& peace in the new year!
Denise,
Thank you for the comforting, specific images of your first stanza. I can smell the masala chai. I like how you structured your poem to move from cozy specific moments to admirable ideals. And I love that you taught me a new word: apricity.
DEnise–first of all, what would we do without Libby??? Free books on demand!
These items are so needed these days–
“Curiosity,
Resilience,
Resistance,
Justice, and
Mercy”
The battle cry in the last two lines rings so true…
Denise,
Your last line resonates. I, too, refuse to “surrender to the oligarchy.” But I’m not giving up crappy, escapist tv! Maybe in four years!
Denise — I soo soo soo appreciate your poem, and especially the last line. Thank you! Susie
Denise, I appreciate that your keepers list is much longer than what you will discard! That speaks volumes to me.
Your ending is powerful. I love all you will keep and am impressed with your lone line a day five-year memory book. I bet that is challenging in various ways. Your poem speaks your truth well and I admire for all you accomplish!
Denise, love the things you choose to keep. They are so peaceful and comforting. The images you created draw me in; it seems as though I am next to you, seeing
“the flickering candle under
this pot of masala chai,
writing one line a day
in my five-year memory book.”
What a great idea to keep a memory book! and yes, please, don’t throw your hands up to surrender to anyone. Thank you!
Hi Gayle,
Fun prompt! I love all of your keepers! They give me warm fuzzies. I imagine someday to live with the sound of multiple pets’ feet! 🩵
I decided to think about my One Word for 2025 (PROTECTION) and let it lead my keepers and my discards.
“The best protection any woman can have is courage.” Elizabeth Cady Stanton
Courageous Protections
It takes courage to protect what matters most to me.
My peace
Joy
Boundaries
Time
Sundays
Thoughts
Heart
Health
Energy
Family
Environment
Rest
It takes courage to protect myself from what is not serving me.
Worrying
High-heeled shoes
Gossip
Fake news
Real news
Opinions
Late-night events
Attention-seeking adults
Greasy food
Overthinking
Saying yes when I need to say no
Unrealistic expectations of others
©Stacey L. Joy, 1/19/25
I forgot to attach my One Word image.
Stacey,
I like how it has a greater fluidity with the one words. There is a truth to both kinds of news making the discard list. I love the One Word image!
Oh, yes, Stacey! Here’s to a beautiful year of protection for you. I smiled with “high-heeled shoes” That is a great commitment to your protection. I hope you are having a protected Sunday doing only what you choose. Hugs to you, my friend!
Stacey,
These —
“Fake news
Real news
Opinions” — get me too. I am trying to listen to less news because Real or Fake it makes me really anxious!
Stacey–I will join you in throwing out all but greasy food–I need french fries in my life!! You have boiled down the keepers into the essence of what is important. So well said.
Disclaimer, I don’t ever intend to discard French fries! LOL. They shouldn’t even count in the greasy food category. 😂
Stacey,
I agree that “high heeled shoes” must go! I gave up on them long ago. Your discard list speaks to my nesting at home habits. I love the ECS quote you began with and hope you snag the courage necessary to manifest your keep list.
Hi, Stacey — Your list is so spot-on. Each one is a story in itself…and every one resonates. Maybe “saying yes when I NEED to say no”…doggone, that one bites me in the heinie every time! Hang in there, my friend. Breathe good air…it’s cold here, but I’m sending it your way. Love, Susie
Stacey, I admire how well you captured what’s truly important and what truly needs to be tossed. I need to reflect on your last line. Hmmmm….do I have unrealistic expectations…maybe. Thank you!
Gayle,
Thanks so much for the prompt, and getting me to get those creative juices flowing. I really was struck when I thought on it, how much it could be the same things for both, and it coming down to which wolf I feed…
SCOPE AND SEQUENCE
On any given day I feel the pendulum push,
swinging toward equilibrium,
swinging toward homeostasis,
feeding the good wolf…
tappies from the kitchen,
Zuko barking to be fed,
how the Celtics played,
how I slept,
how my thoughts drifted,
how my students make me feel,
my faith and its reflection,
checking the mail,
prep period time use,
talking to my daughter about college,
my scope,
my sequence.
On any given night I feel the pendulum pull,
swinging toward disruption,
swinging toward entropy,
feeding the bad wolf…
tappies from the kitchen,
Zuko barking to be fed,
how the Celtics played,
how I slept,
how my thoughts drifted,
how my students make me feel,
my faith and its reflection,
checking the mail,
prep period time use,
talking to my daughter about college,
my scope,
my sequence.
Oh, yes! I feel that pendulum, too. The ups and downs, good days and bad, and sometimes I just feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog’s Day!
Rex–this is so true! I have always loved the wolf-feeding metaphor. And all of your choices really are that two-sided coin. Now you’ve got me thinking…
Rex, what a marvelous reversal poem. You capture some keenly important moments in your day and life. Love the title of your poem and how it connects the whole message. Powerful.
In here, there’s are dresses waiting for a spin.
Work pants with worn knees and pen stains glare
at blue and white button downs that need pressing–
cloth hanging so heavy it’s like lead metal not polyester blend.
I am an actor choosing my next role back stage.
We point out what’s worth carrying across the world
as we fill a black trash bag for Goodwill, your Old
Navy skinny jeans updating the baggy but keep 501s
So liberating yet awfully hard to know our bodies in
place and time what we’d like to be in countryside
walk, a picnic sunset, a coffee in the kitchen.
Look, we have lived in these bodies for decades.
Why, then, do we feel so uneducated, learning anew
how to live with less. Yes, what would happen if we
decided to live only with what we can carry. What if
we say no to our house and borrowed another, if
we declared good enough this one blouse and jean
What if we bought only the food we could hold in
our hands trusting we could to it again tomorrow
leaving cupboards bare, shelves empty.
Unhang the dresses and pants, choose a knew
role to play in your life that accepts the now.
An empty closet does not need to be filled.
Sarah, I just loved this rumination. I feel like it’s Chris McCandless-approved (I know, he’s a dubious hero, but we still have to read Into the Wild every year.). Also, I’m wondering if you’ve ever seen the documentary The True Cost? (Another yearly AP Lang favorite.). My favorite lines in here:
“I am an actor choosing my next role back stage.” (so true!)
“So liberating yet awfully hard to know our bodies in
place and time what we’d like to be in countryside
walk, a picnic sunset, a coffee in the kitchen.”
“What if we bought only the food we could hold in
our hands trusting we could to it again tomorrow
leaving cupboards bare, shelves empty.” (This stanza called to mind Daniel Quinn’s Ishmael, another AP Lang fave.)
Profound thoughts, eloquently expressed, and these sentiments really resonated with me.
Thanks, Wendy. We are preparing to rent our house and travel by carryon for a year.
Whoaaaah! That’s incredible!! I am eager to see the poetry that will come from this new endeavor.
Thanks, Stacey. And I want to say that this poem is my now but contrast greatly from people in Cali who lost all their closets. Hugs.
I read this and feel the freeing…and the fear. Free is not without the boundaries of what-if? This is a poem with such specifics I can’t help but to fit them to my situation. Wonderful!
Sarah–the perfect metaphor. This–how to change our ways– “Look, we have lived in these bodies for decades.Why, then, do we feel so uneducated, learning anew
how to live with less.” (and the skinny vs 501 decision–spot on!) I think I will visit my closet (again) today!
Sarah, I would probably be much happier in a world that could embrace these simplistic ideals:
I am a minimalist, hiding in a closet, waiting to be free. One day!
Thank you for this encouraging poem. 💖
I love how you analyze your belongings and your life together. Some decisions are easy – We point out what’s worth carrying across the world
as we fill a black trash bag for Goodwill, your Old
Navy skinny jeans updating the baggy but keep 501s
but not exactly clear – yet awfully hard to know our bodies in place and time what we’d like to be – recognizing the possibilities or dreams
does the knowledge we hold inform our decisions – we have lived in these bodies for decades. Why, then, do we feel so uneducated, – what a fun way to look at our decisions
Good luck!
Sarah,
I really love the message of choosing to live more mindfully. This stanza really resonates with me:
“What if we bought only the food we could hold in
our hands trusting we could to it again tomorrow
leaving cupboards bare, shelves empty.”
Just the other day I threw out food that spoiled. This was not the first time, and I was thinking that instead of shopping for a week at a time maybe I should shop for a day or two at at time, only buying what I know we will actually eat.
Your last line — “An empty closet does not need to be filled” — poignant and true!
I love this, Sarah, the philosophic (and pragmatic) sentiments conveyed and, after reading your comment to Wendy, the journey that this verse foreshadows! And it makes me anxious and nervous, too!! But that’s what life is about, too, right — “liberating yet awfully hard”? Your line “we have lived in these bodies for decades, / Why, then, do we feel so uneducated” is so true and so well articulated. There are days, I’ve found, when I have to remember that if I’m going to be doing “work” on the floor for an extended period of time that I need to make sure I devise an exit strategy about how to get up. Some days it’s no longer as easy as simply just push down away from the ground to stand up, lol!
Sarah, when I left to spend a semester in Quebec, I landed in a dorm room again (after having built a house of my own), complete with desk, chair, built in twin bed, a small closet and a sink. It’s surprising what you can suddenly find yourself comfortable with (or without). Your pondering leaves me to contemplate what I have left, having already downsized in home and objects. There’s freedom to be found in the lack of things. We nest, build our homes, gather our memories in objects. It might be time to embrace a new fledgling life (you are doing this sooner than I).
Sarah,
I love the “what if” turning in the poem. It takes on a “what would Jesus do” feel to it, with the minimalistic living and sacrifice. I like the contrast between the lone line at the beginning that thinks of the role as actor, matched with the realization that the closet doesn’t need to be filled. Nice progression.
Sarah, wow, what a provocative poem. To truly simplify one’s life and to rid the excess, I feel, is really not that easy. The final image is striking. Very wise poem, indeed!
Oh, Gayle…this is just perfect. To get us thinking of the things that bring us joy is a perfect prompt for today. But my heart kept focusing on one thing so I zoomed in on it. Your beautiful poem hit in so many specific things that bring me joy as well…getting the Wordle on the second guess being high on the list!
Back
On her couch
with her in the recliner
a few feet away
I share the third thing with her . . .
Parent Trap,
the Lindsay Lohan edition.
I sit with a smile and
a warm buzz coursing
through my body.
The nostalgia of a movie
we watched countless times
when she was a child . . .
the songs, the banter,
the plot events,
Lindsay’s freckle…
all make me feel like
it’s 1998 all over again.
This brings a mom joy …
to be with her first born
in her newly purchased home
watching their favorite movie
the heavy fog of deceit and
unrealized manipulation
finally lifting
and her need
and subsequent appreciation
of me
finally
returned.
She sits in that recliner
recovering from back surgery
and freshly liberated from
a toxic relationship,
one that created a chasm
the size of the Grand Canyon
with everyone she loves.
She needs me and allows herself to.
Toddler years revisited.
I comb her hair, gentle with the rats
I help her get her panties and sweats on
I make her meals and bring them to her
I do her laundry
I straighten up her spaces
I administer her meds
I make sure she’s hydrating.
Mom tasks.
When the pain and the drug haze lift,
and perhaps the fog of lost love
takes root again,
may she take stock of what really matters
and of who can always be counted on,
who always puts her first,
who loves her wholly.
May her back heal
and
her heart heal,
and may she let us all
back
in.
~Susan Ahlbrand
19 January 2025
Susan, this was so beautiful. (And a tearjerker — I was crying a little.). But I’m so glad that things are looking up for her. I loved the bit about revisiting her toddler years. <3
Susan–absolutely beautiful! The opening takes me back to sitting with my adult daughters, (only we watch Dirty Dancing) and leads us through your life with her to that close–“May her back heal/ and/her heart heal,/and may she let us all/back/in.” There is a story behind that to which I think we can all relate. Every mother’s thoughts…
Susan, whew, I feel this in my core. I love this line:
My daughter is not in the same situation as yours, but I often think about when she will finally evolve and recognize that we are here for her. You are a super mom and I pray your daughter continues to heal and lets you ALL back in.
Hugs and appreciation for this loving poem.
This is beautiful Susan. And having shared so much of what you write about, I confess that I cried when I read it. I will keep her in my prayers ~ may her back and her heart heal 💕
Susan, so many poignant lines, the toddler imagery used for a suffering adult child… they are piercing. A mother’s love is fierce. It is meant to be fierce. This is the line that got me most: “She needs me and allows herself to.” There is so much hope for healing in that one sentence. The door opening to letting those who love her best back in. I pray it will be so. Incredibly moving poem – filled to the brim with courage, and running over and over with love.
Susan,
I love the tenderness of this. A mother can take so much joy in the old roles of service for the daughter being stepped back into. A mother doesn’t forget to launch prayers for the daughter, knowing she will return to a level of independence again. It is a bittersweet, hoping with your heart that they will stand strong, while we miss them so.
Gayle, I am sitting with a cup of coffee and a small furry dog on my lap and thinking, “I’m up and not crying.” Thanks for this prompt and how it worked to open me to its message to me.
Surrender the ego self
Give in to your own anxiety
Breathe it out, slow & steady
Look into the eyes of I Love You
and see how they glimmer
You don’t have to cry
But if you do,
so be it. The water shed
cleanses your tired soul
opens a crack
for Joy
to find you.
so be it. Love that.
Margaret-this feels like a meditation. I hope we all open that crack so the Joy can find us. I am sending this to a friend who needs it. Thank you.
As the saying goes, “The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea.” You are so right, Margaret – sometimes tears are necessary for Joy to find her way in. And yes, they cleanse and offer rest. Beautiful reminder that it’s ok to cry. And that Joy is out there.
Margaret,
I love the cleansing of the water, and how that vulnerability opens the crack for joy to slip in. I love the little detail of Joy being capped, a level of personification.
I love the eyes that show love, and the contrast of the eyes that cry as well.
Thank you for this prompt today, Gayle! I definitely want this year to focus on more of the joys, but my poem went in a slightly different direction.
The old year could have left with a whisper,
But instead, last months carved a trench, taunting:
With August came loss; my child learned to mourn
Her beloved dog, ashes kept in a drawer.
September blocked one career path, threw in
A twist, let the well-stomped dirt become hidden
In brambles, weeds, and thorns. Come December,
Each new application or interview, another prick
Of the thorn, another drop of blood.
January is silence in snow over fields,
Thin sheets of ice form atop the swamp.
From my white-washed porch, in the flurries
I can envision new paths, each more tangled
Than the last, every requiring payment:
Let go of the idea of “supposed to be.”
Place my daughters on their pedestals.
Lower the mask; the imposter is not you.
Tell your story; give them a chance to say “no.”
Jordan, I sense haunting promise – – a torrent of sorrow that will bring a rainbow of reasons why all these doors closed once the right one opens. My eyes go back to letting go of the “supposed to be,” and forging your own definition of what is, accepting and embracing it. You have so many layers of delicious emotion and promise here in these lines that I felt myself wanting to linger and sit in your poem for a long time, thinking. I will carry it with me into the day.
Omph, I feel the weight of your challenges as well as your resolve to find a solution. “Tell your story.” “The imposter is not you.” Mantras, really for making it through. You got this. Thanks for being a brave writer.
Jordan,
Sending comfort to you and your family. The phrase “brambles, weeds, and thorns” is lovely and haunting as you moved toward “another drop of blood.” Yes, finding a new career path sure feels that way though I hadn’t thought of it as such until your poem.
Sarah
Oh, wow. You are in a hard season. I’m hoping that 2025 brings delight and fruit from your labors of waiting. This poem has such a strong sense of grit and determination. I am taking some of that with me today as I submit my intentions for next year’s placement.
“Let go of the idea of “supposed to be.” That, perhaps, is the hardest thing to give up. Your poem–beautiful and heart-felt and raw–has so much power. Your strength is there, too. May one of these new paths be the right one–good luck, and all my hopes for you and your family.
you evoke such a powerful mood – a child mourning a dog, a blocked career path and in January there is a feeling of hope – envisioning new paths within a sense of reality – give them a chance to say”no”
Whew, Gayle, this provided some Sunday morning therapy and much needed reflection! Thanks for it! And I loved your inspiring poem with its cozy moments — made me wish that my two-year-away retirement was right now!
My Heart Speaks
The Kondo should be done with ease
and every toss should aim to please
to lighten strife from one’s own life,
remove from throat life’s stressful knife.
But Kondoing is harder when
the things removed are planted in
our psyches, bodies, family ways
and with us Every. Single. Day.
Stress I’ll Kondo! says my brain
Tomorrow? There – it’s back again.
And family expectations linger,
beckoning with crooked finger:
Don’t abandon daughter’s role
Don’t make waves! (should be my goal
according to the family cant –
my brain takes up familiar chant).
Some things we keep will kill us, too –
says BP at 182,
urging me to take some time
and make my time left mine, all mine.
So, Kondoing may be the thing
to jettison the thoughts that bring
me down and, samely, jumpstart stress.
This year, my pledge: to stress much less
and live in moments full of joy,
embrace my family, job enjoy
and throw away what makes me pop,
while putting health and joy on top.
Wendy, the rhythm and rhyme give such an upbeat and lift to your poem. You’re speaking my language with thinking of retirement and considering the time that needs to be taken for reducing stress and lessening its impact on BP. Oh, yes. I love the last 5 lines best – – that says it all, and I am right there with you in the pledge.
Oh, yes, Wendy! Your poem speaks such truth in the “psyches, bodies, family ways”– yes, so much of the holding and roles and stress are deeply embedded in our being. The verb here of “Kondoing” in your poem is expressed so powerfully as an approach and “pledge”!
Sarah
Wendy,
this is dynamite! The rhythm really moves it forward and the rhyme gives it such lyrical value. But most of all, the way you express how challenging it is to Kondo sticks with me!
Wendy–this is a major truth!
“But Kondoing is harder when
the things removed are planted in
our psyches, bodies, family ways
and with us Every. Single. Day.”
The breakup of Those. Three. Words. is so telling. Family mores are built-in stressors, aren’t they? All those “shoulds”, all those rules of behavior we don’t even realize are wired in. Good luck with your year of Kondoing!
Magnificent rhyming, Wendy! These lines remind me of a book I read not long ago:
So, Kondoing may be the thing
to jettison the thoughts that bring
me down and, samely, jumpstart stress.
–in that the author shared his battle with depression, learning that one’s thoughts shape one’s emotions vs. the other way around, specifically to break out of negative thinking patterns.
And these lines – they could be my own mantra:
This year, my pledge: to stress much less
and live in moments full of joy,
embrace my family, job enjoy
and throw away what makes me pop,
while putting health and joy on top.
Yes! I raise my metaphorical glass to you: Here’s to joy! If we seek it…we will find!
Gayle, this is a wonderful prompt! Thank you. I can imagine myself also wrangling pets while falling in love with them…but also needing to get out to a class. LOL. Sounds wonderful! I particularly love these lines of yours
“My discard pile will grow….
Television news. Usually bad; seldom good.
Old resentments that cannot be resolved.
Fretting about things out of my control.
(Politics, anyone?)”
These are especially challenging for me. I am heartened to know that others are working on this as well. Thank you for sharing that.
I’ve turned nineteen pages
Of 2025
And right now I am alright.
I’m holding on to better health choices
My curiosity and wonder
for finding what delights me
I will always make things for others
take care and hone my craft
Embrace a notion of wholeness for me
is wholeness for all
Left behind in the clutter
swept up into the dustpan are
my fussing at my adult children
having washed their dishes again
Worry about what I’m not achieving
Or publishing
Meanness
Dog-eared or bookmarked pages
I’m just going to keep reading
Linda, the page turning circularity at the beginning and end of your poem give this such an amazing feel that life goes on – – through the pages, through the cycles, and stories go on through the telling and books are read from cover to cover….there is movement in those turnings of pages. I need to make some better health choices, too……I’m not as ambitious getting started as I am once the habits take root. I need your same mindset. I like the way you see each day as a new page. A clean slate. A new beginning. The story can change, and you hold the pen. You inspire me.
Linda,
What lovely image of 19 pages of 2025. Yes, we are just at the beginning of the story and we can choose what is on the next page! I love clutter “swept up into the dustpan.”
Sarah
The book/pages/reading metaphor really works!
Linda–I love the book metaphor carried throughout your poem. The image of sweeping the clutter up into a dustpan is so visual and so real. And your solution–perfection!
In so many ways, Linda, you are singing my song here in your lines: making better health choices, keeping curiosity and wonder alive, striving for that sense of wholeness…letting go of what we cannot change re: our adult children, worrying about what I’m not achieving…it all comes down to a sense of what really matters in life vs. wasted efforts, perhaps. Love the imagery of your dustpan and the dog-eared pages and the ending with a book. All my life I felt most “myself’ when immersed in a book. That time is never wasted, is it? Not to mention a book being an (oft-needed) insulated bubble away from the world. Love these reflections.
Phew, Gayle! I so wanted to focus on the joys that I have been intentionally choosing: celebrating family, friends, surrounding myself with forgiveness and acceptance of who’s and what’s, being present in what is important, the keepers. It is there. I have been gathering it. And discarding. But my writing went a different way. Thank you for this prompt. For this chance to explore the leaving and entering of this moment. For your words (and humor – see your parenthetical additions).
I Am Up
I have lived in many homes.
This body houses my soul.
These rooms shelter my being.
This structure lodges the collections
of all that make up me.
Children. Dog. Gathered memories.
But never have I felt so lost.
I am up and not crying.
I have traveled to many places,
green lands and ice lands,
floated between the sea and sky,
immersed myself in stories shortening distances
between past and present,
crossing borders of
differences and separations.
But now, I wander the aisles of
confusion, wondering what I came in for.
I am up and not crying.
I have sampled of this earth,
taken what it has offered,
stolen what the future holds.
But always owning nothing.
I am up and not crying.
I have feared many times
But never has my fear outweighed my hope.
Until now.
I am up.
Jennifer, so much is powerful about this poem. The work-down from I am up and not crying to simply I am up, standing in the shadow of the overpowered hope in the face of fear. I love the aisles of confusion – wondering what you came in for – – yes, friend, it’s why I wear my work key around my neck and have lists everywhere so I’m feeling seen. I, too, forget and find myself wondering. I hear the strains of Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass in the next to last stanza – – the land ethic, the stewardship of trees and resources lost by most and certainly, certainly heading more and more in that direction. Your repeating line is haunting the way I felt the tears there at the end. We’re in one big group hug today, for we are on the cusp of a different tomorrow, and we’re going to have to keep watch for the sun to stream through the clouds to find the faith to shift the fear back to hope.
Repetition serves this poem well as an affirmation and record of experience. I love that. There are so many lines that resonate with me…the collections, places, experiences. I’ll join you in giving up fear. It’s exhausting. Happy New Year, Jennifer.
Jennifer, thanks for this. I kind of love that we, on this site, are all journeying through our lives together — these moments that make up who we are — and sharing that journey with each other. And although that’s making an assumption about how much of “you” is actually in this poem (that is, not a persona), I love getting to know everyone through their poetry, here. This was a beautiful poem. Made me feel a bit sad and more than a little fearful until the redemption of your hopeful line at the end. Loved it.
Jennifer,
I am very moved by your poem today, lingering in the repeated line of “I am up and not crying” and thinking of the ways we are “up” and the ways of ‘not crying” in this poem and in my own life/poeming. Your poem has me wondering about whether or not “always owning nothing” is good. That line in the poem seems to welcome a positive or negative or neutral deciphering, and yet in the context of our country and the final lines it feels hopeless. I am holding onto the different ways to read the final line. I am up. Yes, I am up.
Sarah
Wow. Just wow, Jennifer.
using “I am up and not crying” as a refrain really works. And then to end with the abbreviated “I am up” adds immense power.
The power of the poem is its movement to that culminating line, but I especially love these lines, this image:
Jennifer–I am tearing up–for you, with you, and for myself. This poem, with its repetition, its honesty, its aisles of confusion, and fear that outweighs the hope. I am there with you–politically and personally. I, too, am up. Powerful poem, my friend.
Wow. I love this poem… your houses, your traveling, your fear…the repetition of I am up and not crying had already become a mantra…but your last stanza left me where I’ve waked every morning since early November…
Jennifer, your repetition of that wonderful borrowed line “I am up and not crying” is incredibly effective as a refrain. In each stanza the lostness/sense of loss builds, like a weighed lament. The mourning is real, all the way to your powerful ending, with the deletion of “not crying” implying, yes, crying. I know about fear that outweighs hope. Paralyzing. Like being caught in coils. Whether or not the voice is yours…I cheer that the speaker is “up” despite all, slipping off a coil of fear enough to carry on. Courageous. As is hope.
Jennifer — Oh my gosh, this has such a strong sense of worry and loss of steady ground…yet “I am up” gives us a taste of your strength. I carry so much fear and loss of hope right how as well, and I worry for us all. I helps me to think that many of us are in this state together and therein lies some sense that we are not alone in the “until now.” I’m grateful for your poem and for this platform that has connected us. I feel your sadness. Keep “UP.” Love, Susie
Gayle, I love the intentionality of consideration to what matters to us as we consider your prompt this morning. It’s true what they say – – it’s the little things that matter most in our lives and bring us the greatest joy. After a year’s cleanout of house, attic, barn, and shed, I sure love the feelings that your poem brings – the silence, the Wordle, the books and blankets and yoga pants and coffee swirling. It’s why I chose ENOUGH as my One Little Word this year. Oh, you speak straight to my heart today! Thank you so much for hosting us!
Keepsakes Unkept 2
we’ll keep just enough :
*the dogs
*each other
(in that order)
*our jobs
*our dream of downsizing
for camper travel
*our sparse simplicity
that might seem boring
to anyone else
we’ll jettison some cargo:
* “gifts” bestowed, heavily-storied
relics with sentiments not ours
Kim, keeping “just enough” is what it should be all about – just enough to sustain, just enough to enjoy, just enough to love. It’s the perfect mantra for being of this earth. The sparsity of your lines, words, and the title are perfection. And jettison embraces my 60’s born space age heart (while allowing me to envision shoving all the unwanted into the icy emptiness of black skies).
“in that order” ha! Love this “telling” of the importance of those pets. And, what a great idea of jettisoning…not throwing a way, not disposing but making lighter for the journey forward. Brilliant!
Kim, can I steal your word as mine this year? LOL!
I love the structure of this, with it’s listing and asterisks, but I especially loved the last stanza’s last line: truth! That “stuff” can really weigh on and shackle one. Beautiful poem!
Kim, keeping the dogs and each other “(in that order)” – priceless! Your sparse simplicity sounds sublime to me. “Enough” is a mighty word. I think that decluttering one’s surroundings declutters one’s mind as well, making for more efficiency and efficacy all around. Those last lines about “heavily-storied relics with sentiments not ours” is a zinger. Why do not ask ourselves why often ‘enough’ when it comes to what we’re holding onto. Another great inspirational & motivational message, friend.
Kim — I’ve been saying that “just enough” phrase over and over…I’ve said it to myself so often and I survey what matters most and how to cope when things seem so unread, so brutalized. “Just enough” …powerful words. You are a fine soul! Susie
Kim, your poem sound my in-laws retirement years. They did downsize, sold their dream home, and added RV travel to places they’d only read about. Jettisoning made room for more! Thanks for reviving that memory.
Gayle – I love the familiar list of life realities you’ve shared. So real. I got a particular giggle about the critters’ “love” vs “food”… haha, having noted the same here with my Rayo. A terrific prompt. I hope to get to the keyboard for a poem today. Fingers crossed and 13 degrees with strong winds outside fall on the side of poetry methinks. Hugs, Susie
Indeed, Susie! Snowfall = poetry and…….painting! Paint that picture, friend!
Ah, Susie, you are one of the things that bring me joy! Good to see you here.
Wishing you lots of words to play with!
Gayle, what a perfect invitation to gain perspective of life and living it with intentionality. Better than New Year’s resolutions by far. Looking through the lens of joy – and actually finding it – changes everything. I absolute LOVE the Norwegian mentality: “I am up and not crying.” I had to incorporate that – it is something I try to do already. Youa re slso singing my own song with celebrating Wordle success (I love the Connections game, too) and a dog on the lap (I can’t have a cat – allergic), and the comfort of a husband sleeping nearby. Joy. Yes.
So, I made this list. I ended up as i sometimes do with paragraphs vs. lines. Can I call this a prose poem? Apologies for the length… I will just say that once I started this journey, I had to keep going. Thank you for this amazing poetic spark today <3
2025
It’s a curious thing, turning sixty. Better than turning fifty. I can’t say why. Fifty felt oppressive: halfway to a hundred and heaven knows there’s no real appeal in living so long. Sixty comes rolling to the doorway in a worn but polished carriage drawn by restless horses tossing their manes and pawing the ground with gleaming hooves. Hear their neigh: No time to lose. The journey awaits…
I will jump in. I will ride. I will not say nay. I will do and celebrate the doing. I will get out and remove the obstacles in my path… when I cannot remove them alone, I will ask for help. As often as needed. I am also learning to rest when needed.
I may not see retirement on the horizon, yet, but I can appreciate pine-scented breeze that blows from that direction. I can appreciate the trees that obscure the destination. The woods are alive and so am I. In the meantime, I will celebrate the meandering turns. Are they so random? I wonder. They have led to a pocket of joy in my work, a unique opportunity to pair volunteers with young children, just to read books and talk about them. Overnight the program has blossomed, spiraled, grown exponentially, like wisteria, without the deadly constraints. Joy on the faces of children. Joy in the voices of adults who are giving of themselves. Joy in the books, the stories, stories, stories, so many of them, when I think about it, are about overcoming.
Is there joy in overcoming? Certainly. I think it’s often disguised as peace. Perhaps peace is the soft green cloak of joy, that inner garment aglitter with iridescence when the shafts of lights pierce the gray matter. What are these breathtaking, fiery sparks of color?
They, too, are alive. My sons, settled with their own families, living lives of service to others. My granddaughters… oh, the piercing brightness brings tears. Hear the horses neigh: No time to lose.
Memories are a joy and we are making memories, now, now, now. In the evenings when it’s just my husband and me, we take out every precious jewel of our new memories, what the girls say, what they do, how much they love us. Joy. Joy. Joy.
That my husband is still here when he almost was not is joy. He is rather ravaged…not everyone must travel such a fearsome path… but he is still here, still ministering, and the girls will remember him, and me, just as I remember my own grandparents. Joy. Joy. Joy.
This is not to say the path doesn’t ever grow dark and dangerous, or that it seems to have come to a sudden end. That must have been the mind of my great-grandfather, whose name I bear. On his sixtieth birthday he hung himself in the woods.
I never knew the whole why of it and anyone who might have known is gone. This much I understand: Suffering. We can’t always know the burdens others bear. We cannot even recognize exactly what our own burdens are, not all of them, anyway. There’s always a noose awaiting to constrict, but it must be thrown off.
In this year I turn sixty, I will do just that. I will throw off judgment, because I understand suffering even when I cannot name its source. I will throw off regret for not having seen and done and written all I have wanted. I will do. And I will forgive. I will set myself free of unnecessary burden. There is no moving forward otherwise.
Above all, every morning I will be up and not crying…let my heart always sing its song of gratitude and joy to God. Thank You for another day. I cannot see what this day will hold but I have learned that the sister of Joy, Awe, is always awaiting, if I will open my eyes to her, much like taking the same old road home and there around the bend of the bleak winterscape, just past the green street sign reading Glory Road, in the barren field, behold: Two bald eagles, big and majestic and gorgeous as life. They have been eating a dead deer. Their usual food, fish, is harder to come by in winter. The eagles affix me with a piercing gaze as I pass, as if to say What will YOU do to keep going? No time to lose.
And here come the tears, at the unspeakable gift of it all.
Fran—this is the loveliest conversation. I feel as if we have had a long coffee together, sharing kindred thoughts. “No time to lose.” So true, and it becomes even more so as time goes by. Your first stanza-graph (new term), “Sixty comes rolling to the doorway in a worn but polished carriage drawn by restless horses tossing their manes and pawing the ground with gleaming hooves. Hear their neigh: No time to lose. The journey awaits…” is glorious. Thank you!
Fran, this was just beautiful! So much to appreciate here, it inspired me to appreciate every day. I’m glad your husband is doing ok. Thanks for sharing such a moving piece this morning!
Fran, YES you can call it a prose poem. It has that repetition of joy, that ringing of the happy bells like in Poe’s poem and the bells that are tolling in time are the horses – – brilliant! Such sound devices are so present, both tintinnabulating and time-keeping. I’ll also propose on this Sunday morning that it has a spiritual message – rich in devotional quality. In our church, we used to write a collective Advent devotional years ago where different members wrote for each day, and I sense this as I read your prose poem on Joy and the urgency to live life. This is a grand piece of writing – moving and inspirational, and I love the idea of being up and not crying. I’ll think about this today as we meet my grandchildren halfway to have lunch together and spend some day trip time feeling the joy, joy, joy, joy right in our hearts. Beautiful, friend!
Fran, I am grateful to have taken your journey with you today. There are too many beautiful things in your words to name (I’d be rewriting the entirety of the poem). As good journeys will do, I found myself exploring my own world along with yours – your words evoked thoughts and experiences, connections. I am listening for the neighing horses, the pawing of the ground. I began to purge a few years ago, deciding that being and beings were more important than things. And there it is – the “unspeakable gift of it all.” Thank you for taking us with you today and bringing us joy, joy, joy.
Yes, you can call this a prose poem…and a dedication to love and life and all that you intend to carry forward. I love that piercing brightness of grandchildren and the pine scented breeze of retirement from somewhere near…but not here. Lovely. So glad you just went with writing until the end point for this morning.
What an investigation, a reflection, an unburdening, a mission statement all rolled into one. Your stream of consciousness is filled with beautiful and lyrical language.
I love the imagery you use related to retirement . . . and the trees in the way. Why not just enjoy them?
Fran, thank you for this! I love the joy you’ve captured and crafted here in your prose poem. Happy sixtieth this year and thank you for reminding us that there is “No time to lose”!