Welcome to Day 3 of the February Open Write. If you have written with us before, welcome back. If you are joining us for the first time, you are in the kind, capable hands of today’s host, so just read the prompt below and then, when you are ready, write in the comment section below. We do ask that if you write, in the spirit of reciprocity, you respond to three or more writers. To learn more about the Open Write, click here.
Our Host
Stacey L. Joy is a National Board Certified Teacher, Google Certified Educator, L.A. County and LAUSD Teacher of the Year with over 37 years of elementary classroom teaching experience. She currently teaches 5th grade at Baldwin Hills Gifted Magnet and Pilot School. Teaching her Joyteam Stars the power of their history, self-advocacy, justice, and joy are the core of her practice. Stacey is a poet at heart with one self-published book and several poems published in various anthologies. Follow Stacey on Twitter @joyteamstars or on Instagram @joyteam.
Inspiration
Nikki Giovanni is one of my favorite poets. I’m intrigued by how her poetry paints vivid pictures in my mind. Whose poetry inspires you this way?
Listening to music with descriptive lyrics that touch my soul also inspires me to write. In celebration of Black History Month, I read the lyrics/poem “Lift Every Voice and Sing” while listening to the song with my students. I thought about how important the song has been to Black people for over 100 years!
Process
Nikki Giovanni’s poem Kidnap contains short lines that you can “lift” to create your own poem. I like the idea of lifting a line and turning it into something new, beautiful, and golden.
Read Nikki’s poem and my poem (below).
Read “Lift Every Voice and Sing”
Choose a line to lift from one of these options or lift a line from anywhere!
Try a Golden Shovel poem form or use your lifted line in a poem using a form you prefer.
Stacey’s Poem
Lifted lines from Kidnap: “Lyric you in lilacs/dash you in the rain”
Lilac Lullaby
I love you, my sweet LYRIC
from my favorite childhood song. YOU
appeared in winter like a rainbow IN
the sky, painting my greys in LILACS
and lullabies. Sprinkled a soft DASH
of bliss before and after my sadness. YOU
loved me and I let you IN
and around my broken pieces. You held me tight and THE
holes closed before we welcomed the RAIN
©Stacey L. Joy, December 14, 2019
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
Stacy – I love how you ran with the lavender lyric idea – how a song can bring you all sorts of hope in a grey – I feel how much that meant to young you and very much related to it! So curious what the lyric was, too!
Thank you for hosting and for the poems to dig with our golden shovels!
Show you off to mama
At some point each day, you put on a SHOW
A tooth-free smile-wriggle that’s singularly YOU
New surprise-strong legs, pushing OFF
Turning a coy sparkle-eye TO
Your joy-melted MAMA
Emily,
I love this! I wish my grown children were babies sometimes so I can enjoy those special moments. The hyphenated descriptions are perfection!
Stacy,
Thanks for this prompt and for your poem. Your poem breathed a hopeful and beautiful spirit into Nikki’s words.
I was lucky enough to study Nikki’s poetry with her in residence at the Furious Flower Poetry Institute several summer ago and my affection for her poetry and for her as a person grew exponentially because of that experience. She is a truly transformative person and I hoped to carry some of her social commentary forward in this poem, based upon Nikki’s poem “Allowables”, linked here:
https://artistic.umn.edu/allowables-poem-nikki-giovanni
The moderate law and order voter says…
Sometimes we need to subjugate the I,
focusing outside the the self; but don’t
allow yourself to think
that I’m
all for saying that just anything is allowed.
I mean, what happens when people can just do whatever they want to?
That feeling–that fear–is just the thing that can kill
our sensitivities, it’s the something
beneath the surface that drives us, Because
why else would I judge someone before knowing them, I
feel like all lives matter but I admit that, with everything going on, that I am
going to do what i need to do to protect my family because I’m frightened.
Hi Dave,
I’m sorry I missed your post last night. I had to go to bed early after a busy day. It’s such an honor to know that you got to spend a summer in residence with one of my greatest inspirations. I can only imagine how transformative that experience was.
Thank you for your poem and for being vulnerable. Frightened is the perfect word that I think describes our nation. We are so self-absorbed, and yet we accomplish nothing until we learn to look outside of ourselves.
Yessss!!
Stacey, thank you so much for sharing your incredible poetry and prompt. Nikki Giovanni’s poetry has lifted me for over forty years and ever since I was a receiving clerk at a B. Dalton book store and read her work for the first time. Your poem is such a perfect model of the Golden Shovel poem, and I absolutely adore the emotion and the lines
“and around my broken pieces. You held me tight and THE
holes closed before we welcomed the RAIN” Gorgeous!!
My poem is loosely based on a true event, but it’s just plain silly and needs lots of revision, but it is too late to keep working it. I went with Nikki’s line “ode you with my love song”. There’s just something about singers. Ahhh heart be still remembering unfulfilled desires.
The Barroom Singer
dark boding eyes and sultry vibes entranced me to write an ode
passionate kisses lined each lustful word just for you
knees shaking, nerves quaking, whispering with
passionate pleas for you to see my
face, my soul, begging for you to please love
me, as I drifted away, lifted by your song
Barb Edler
20 February 2023
So steamy, Barb! You’ve got me really curious here. I hope to hear this story one day! I liked the knees shaking, nerves quaking line.
Oh, Barb, I read your comment on Sarah’s poem and had to come here to see how you treated the same striking line. I wouldn’t say that is plain silly, it is steamy, as Mo said, and sweet. I hope we will hear more of the story. 🙂
Barb, I love this poem. It’s a bit erotic and naughty. Nikki Giovanni would love it, too, I think.
Barb, for a draft, this was quite the piece! It usually takes me several tries in what you did so effortlessly. This line comes straight from a very well written romance novel: “passionate kisses lined each lustful word just for you”. It’s a smooth line that screams vivid imagery! And I just want to say, it’s never too late to pick up a mic.
Barb – I love that you drew from the power of music. The barroom brings a sort of tone that is both auditory and visual… sort of a smoky haze of wishing to be seen, to be heard. I feel that. I especially felt the last two lines… the drifting and finding solace in a song that takes us away from a sadness. This setting is perfect poetry. Hugs, Susie
Hi Barb! This is downright sexy and sultry, not silly! I love the warm fuzzies that it brings to me and perhaps you should continue on and let us know what happens next! I am intrigued.
🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥
Love it!
Golden Shovel poems are my favorite and Nikki Giovanni is one of my idols!
Your poem is so beautiful-so many descriptive lines- dash of bliss was one of my favs.
Here is my poem. This is a line from Amber McBride’s WE ARE ALL SO GOODAT SMILING- which is my current read! The stanza is ” My point I that a leaf knows it’s important,/ at all moments of its life/ even when it is broken./ People always forget/that a rough day, a bad year–/ doesn’t equal a bad life.
New life always awaits
Missing sunlight like a
fish misses water, today feels rough,
a never-ending February day
not even a huge mug with a
warm cup of coffee can keep the bad
thoughts at bay. Every year
winter lingers…just doesn’t
feel the same as the other seasons, not equal
but spring always is a–
round the corner, and those bad
days bring forth new life.
This is great, Alexis. What a lovely line you’ve chosen to work with. Your opening lines relied me right in. Such a relatable poem, especially for teachers!
Alexis, these words will get me through! We are so close and yes, it is a never-ending feeling, that lingering. But the hope of spring “around the corner” and the new life it brings – I needed this reminder!
Yes, I always love that spring will win–“always is a- / round the corner” (Clever, that one: a-round!) May your spring come soon!
Alexis, you brighten up the room with this poem! For February to be the shortest month, it does seem to be an extension of January. These are my favorite lines: “Every year
winter lingers…just doesn’t
feel the same as the other seasons, not equal
but spring always is a–
round the corner, and those bad
days bring forth new life.” Spring is my favorite season. Mainly because April is my birthday month, but also new things come forth in spring. New life, new chances, new memories. Thank you for sharing!
Alexis, you nailed it! You’ve even helped me to see that my perpetual mood of cranky might be February’s fault! I love the way your poem, blows, and tenderly foods away the pressure we sometimes put on ourselves. The opening lines resonated with me as a faithful sun worshiper.
I hope you get some sun soon! 🤗
Well, dog gone it I see what happens when I speak my comment and don’t read carefully before I post. Please forgive the typos. Your “poem flows and tenderly soothes away” 🤣🤣🤣
Stacey, Golden Shovels are my favorite.
Lord Help Us
A Golden Shovel that includes the last 4 lines from Lift Every Voice and Sing
Oh, how our great work is constantly over-Shadowed;
buried, covered, concealed beneath
the politics and rhetoric. Lord, may Thy
truth be revealed. May your hand
provide us strength to overcome. May
you illuminate our service and make known that we
are competent professionals; forever
committed to our calling. Help us to stand
steadfast to do what is best and remain true
to our WHY; continually striving to
empower and educate our
future generations to be better. God,
help our LEGACY see through to what’s True
and right for ALL. Give them wisdom to
create better and do better; learning from our
mistakes and our efforts to make EQUITY the Native
language across this vast and diverse land.
Donnetta Norris
Your voice in this poem is so uplifting and matches Lift Every Voice and Sing so well. Your first lines stopped me in my tracks and I reread several times. Wow-they are so true.
I too love Golden Shovel poems, they are my favorite.
Donetta, your poem makes me feel like I’m in church. What an invocation for our time. Amen, sister!
Donnetta, shouting hallelujah!
Lord knows this poem is our prayer!
Thank you for this poem and prayer!
Donnetta, this is my PRAYER!!’ This is so eloquently and passionately written. The title says it all “Lord Help Us” sounds like what someone’s “Big Mama” or “Nanna” would say. What do you do when you feel like all hope is gone? Call on the Lord! Your first line “Oh, how our great work is constantly over-Shadowed;
buried, covered, concealed beneath
the politics and rhetoric” sets the tone of the poem. Oh how I wish these people could hear us! Thank you for sharing!
Donetta – I hear the strong calling, the plea for teachers to stand steadfast in the name of educating through truth about what our mistakes have been. Especially now as so many voices are being hushed across the country… hushed by fools who think covering up the truth is a better path. I so appreciate this poem, this plea for a better legacy for the generations ahead. Thank you, Susie
This Is the Recipe of Life*
By Mo Daley 2/20/23
Listen with your heart, this
will help you know what is
the right path, the
way to cook without a recipe.
Trust, and be sure of
yourself in this life.
*With thanks to Rupi Kaur
I loved the last lines “Trust, and be sure of yourself”-such tough but great advice.
Mo, I love the wisdom in your words, delivered with such simplicity and truth. I need to trust myself without a recipe more often!
I was all in until I read “cook without a recipe”. Girl, we would to order takeout if I tried this. LOL I’m not sure if that line was meant to be literal or figurative, but I love the feel and flow of your words in this poem.
Mo, your poem is perfect! Such great advice! Loved the image of cooking without a recipe! The being sure of yourself is definitely the challenging part! Brilliant poem!
Wisdom from the poets, Mo and Rupi! I believe trusting ourselves is harder than trusting others.
Thank you, Mo! 💛
Yes, Mo! Guiding words indeed. And cooking without a recipe is a perfect image… a subtle but telling sense of a person. I love the strength it evokes.
Susie
Stacey,
I love these inspirations. WOW! Your prompts are perfect for my travels. I’m awed by how fresh this prompt makes the golden shovel. Thank you!
You Talk Pretty English
“put you in my phrases and meter”
—Nikki Giovani
One day you’ll put
trust in the words you
choose and know in
this second tongue my
ears hear your phrases,
a perfect harmony and
rhythmic like the bard’s meter.
Glenda Funk
February 21, 2023
Glenda, loved this! Loved how the use of “this second tongue” was so rich. And love the reassuring, bolstering tone — this made me feel happy to read it. 🙂
Glenda, your poem makes me smile, especially in this age of encouraging educators to honor each student’s heart language. You’ve seen some of my poems about kids teasing me because I spoke White English instead of the southern dialect many in my neighborhood spoke. My first three years of school, I was the only person of color in my class. I didn’t know people spoke differently until I moved to another town. WOW!!!
How I wish you had been my friend back then and helped to create the perfect harmony that would have my days so much prettier. Maybe not a gorgeous as the bard’s meter … but better. Thanks for sharing.
Awesome golden shovel for your travels – I love the line “rhythmic like the bard’s meter”…hope you are enjoying your trip!
Glenda, your poem is pure magic. I am impressed at how artfully you’ve been able to share your travel experiences during these open write days. The lines “trust in the words you/choose and know in/this second tongue my/ears hear your phrases” are compelling. I’m left wondering how we trust in each other when there is a communication barrier. Your poem is like the music of rain and I loved your last two lines! Gorgeous!!
Glenda,
I just love where you took this seemingly simple phrase! I can’t even choose a favorite line, because I keep thinking, okay, one more, one more, and then it was the whole thing. Well done.
Yay, Glenda! I’m happy that my prompts are helping you write while traveling. I love the line you chose and how it inspired your poem. One of these days, I hope there’s more understanding across the world when it comes to second languages. Imagine blending them all into a beautiful love language that everyone speaks and understands!
Enjoy your trip and tell Ken I said hello! 😊
Glenda – You are so good at this! The title immediately made me smile… and David Sedaris would smile as well. ;-). The thought that putting “trust in words” and “one day” would be a “second language” speaks of hope. And a need …we do need such a harmony. Very thought-filled poem. I love the g. shovel line you chose.
Hugs to you, my friend… you’ve given me words to trust tonight. Thank you, Susie
Thank you, Stacey, for the gift of your poem and Nikki Giovanny’s poetry. Although I’ve listened to Lift Every Voice and Sing many times (I will never forget the first time I heard it), I had never read the whole poem. Thanks for the invitation.
I finished The Road by Cormac McCarthy last week, and it has been haunting me ever since. I lifted a line that echoes in my head.
In dark times, there’s not much to do but to keep
hope safely in our Pandora’s box–a
reminder that we have a little
control over the fire
burning
our world and society. However
it’s important to remember that though you may feel small,
You are not alone. Guard your goodness; however
do not keep it hidden.
Rachelle,
This is just wonderful! I like the form of the lines long and short, and the way you completely embraced the meaning of the line. It is even a little haunting. Awesome!
Rachelle — Yes, so cautionary! The Road is a real kicker…oooph…spooky. I loved “dark time” (yes, literally and figuratively). The reality that we “have a little/ control” is a rough thing…but then “you are not alone” offers up a glimmer of hope in a McCarthy dark world.The Golden Shovel line is a much appreciated hope….and the placement of “burning” is just perfect. Susie
Rachelle, this is powerful and I love the line you lifted.
This really resonated with me:
I sometimes struggle with sharing my “goodness” in the company of certain people. I needed this reminder! It’s golden!
Rachelle, The Road haunted me, too. Love these wise words and the complexity you gifted this line with.
Rachelle,
What a powerful golden shovel and what you create is just WOW!
Rachelle,I love the idea of guarding one’s goodness but not keeping it hidden. Your poem touches on so many problems our world is suffering from. I think your poem would be a great conversation starter, asking others how they show their goodness and what emotions or behaviors they want to keep under control. Fantastic poem!
Rachelle,
I love this and I love the novel. This is a case where the antecedent lends substantial power to the newer piece. “Guard your goodness” is such an incredibly powerful and profound thought!
Unpopular Opinion
(It seems)
Although this road has been long, we are
still on this journey; sure, there have been times we
had brief respites along the way, but seeing as how there
are unmasked patients – at a doctor’s office – tells me we are not there yet
Any questions?
____________________________________
Stacey, thank you for your mentor poem today! There is something wonderful about the “song” leading to such healing, “clos[ing]” the “holes … before [you] welcomed the rain.” In terms of your prompt, I used a recent visit to the doctor’s office which kinda left me shaking my head.
Scott, it’s been a long journey, indeed. And some are still unsure of the directions and the destination. Love that this stems from the impatient child traveler’s question of “are we there yet?” I appreciate my students who now mask when they have a cold, a gesture of kindness and respect to those who aren’t sick.
I’ve recently thought about this concept, too. Thank you for validating my own experiences and thoughts with this brief, but powerful, poem. The question at the end “Any questions?” invites us to think about this “journey”: where we’ve been, where we are, and where we are going.
Scott – Well, this certainly speaks to me… whenever I take stock in the practices of folks out there paying no attention whatsoever to the logic of masking in a medical environment, I too shak[e] my head. Geez. I love the topic and smile at the ease and flow of your poem to do that golden shovel thing. Indeed, we are not “there yet.” Alas. Love the title! Susie
Scott, you are not alone! I am grateful to see my masked doctor and dentist (and their staff) because I’m not there yet with unmasking! Yet so many patients come in like it’s 2018! I am masked at school all day and have yet to catch a cold while surrounded by coughy snotty children UNMASKED.
Great ending!
Stacey, I’m right there with you. I girded my loins and re-upped at the Y after my knee replacement, and even though the rest of those sweathawgs are in there spreading who knows what, I remain vigilant EVERYWHERE, masked to the max while I pedal away on the machines. Haven’t had a cold in 3 years. And so far, I’ve staved off C-19…but as soon as I say this, I’ll get hammered. So, masking it is…probably forever. Seems a tiny price to pay for not spreading a virus. Susie
I’m not sure America will ever be there…
But…. Gayle, we must have hope. Otherwise, we’ll give in and join THEM. Okay, let’s stay tuned here on OpenWrite, So many encourage us to “keep the Faith!”
Such a time we are in and poetry is such a powerful way to express our opinions. Thank you for sharing.
Such a gorgeous inspiration poem, Stacey – how I love the lines,
My golden shovel line is from “Dead Stars” by Ada Limon
I wrestled with the first word, ‘what,’ because this word in Ada Limon’s poem is the last line of the preceding stanza. I wasn’t sure whether to include it or not. I decided the line only made sense with it, and further decided that I would let it stand alone/kick off the poem, as a small homage to its separate place in Ada Limon’s beautiful poem.
what
I’m about to say seems so ridiculously simple, yet would
truly make transformation happen
imagine if we worked together, if
we reached out to one another, if we
listened more than we talked, if we simply decided
that this one precious world, this one precious life to
live, this one precious us, should survive
just imagine, if we lived into this simple truth more?
yes, imagine, if we considered each other to be more than ‘other,’ instead, to
be with us, for us, of us, meant to love
and be loved. It’s really simple. Why make it harder?
Well, darn, I tried to right justify that poem – looks nice that way, hahaha. You’ll have to imagine!
Maureen, thank you for lifting this line. Your poem encouraged me to check out “Dead Stars” and it is incredibly beautiful. Your golden shovel highlights some of the essential themes. This line of your poem reached out to me: ” instead, to / be with us, for us, of us, mean to love/ and be loved.” The parallel structure of that line really emphasizes the simplicity of it all “why make it harder?”
Oooohhh what a great strike line from Dead Stars! I want to sit with it for a few hours and let it marinate. You’ve written a beautiful poem of possibilities and I agree…
We have one chance at this thing called life, right? Maybe we will get it right before it’s too late.
Love this!
💟
“be with us, for us, of us”—says it all. Too bad everyone can’t feel that way. Maureen, you are eloquent in your plea for a better world.
Why, indeed, though we seem to be trying our best to make it harder. Loved this poem. <3
Your choice to make “what” the title works. As is required of a “good” title, the word sparks interest, creates intrigue and inspires us to keep reading. Good job!
Maureen, oh my goodness, your poem shares every desire I have for our current political players and society. We do have “one precious world“. Your poem is so moving, I want to carry it with me. Priceless poem and message! Kudos!
Maureen, yes, for sure that would be better. Two of my favorite ways you tell this truth are:
Thank you for sharing Ada Limon’s poem too. Lovely.
Maureen,
This is wonderful! I know the formatting can be frustrating, but it is still a beautiful, heartfelt message. I’m going to have to check out the source poem for sure. There is SO much good in this, but this is my favorite:
Maureen,
Im sending snaps for every word, every thought in your poem. What if? Yes it’s that simple. We’ll done!
Maureen- Even without the right justification, this poem is dandy. I love the hope and wish in every line. “If only…” indeed. It does seem so simple, so logical, so decent. And who wouldn’t love that world? You and Ada L (I love her) are so spot-on tonight. Thank you. Words to live by. Thank you, Susie
I was just thinking I needed to try a Golden Shovel poem again, so thank you for the opportunity!
There is always light,
if only we’re brave
enough to see it.
If only we’re brave
enough to be it.
~~ Amanda Gorman
There are so many people who think their way
is the only way
always judging those who make their
light something that lifts others.
if everyone were to judge
only themselves, not anyone else, that would be the aim.
we’re each and every one unique and
brave in our own ways, which should be
enough to prove the beauty in the world,
to recognize and
see the value of diversity.
it is time to stand up and speak out.
If
only every person were able to do this
we’re going to see a change. Be
brave and be strong
enough to be the light,
to
be the change that can guide light
it into the hearts of those trapped in darkness.
Beautiful poem, Cara. I really like how ‘if’ and ‘to’ stand alone as lines…I love these two lines especially,
Bravery really is beauty, I think.
Cara, I love this poet, so thank you for lifting this line up and highlighting her work! You send an important message, and the symbolism of light shines bright throughout to emphasize the main idea to be yourself and not to dull anyone else’s light. Thank you for sharing!
Hi, Cara!
I’m a big fan of Amanda Gorman so your choice for your line to lift made my heart sing.
I love the simplicity of this because light as a means for lifting others is just that simple and oh so valuable:
Let us all be released by the light!
Gorgeous!
This is such a universally desirable sentiment, why is it still so out of reach? I connected with this from an art piece I just made based on a text exchange. The idea that we sometimes retreat to our dark caves when we feel wounded, but are really surrounded by many who are each in their own darkness. Finding that light – within – and then sharing it with others. Others do judge this, and why, I cannot understand. Why bring others down? It befuddles me. Except, just that – they haven’t perhaps found their own light. Shuttered it away amidst all the noise surrounding them. Beautifully rendered here, Cara. Thank you!
Stacey Joy, this made me think really hard. I attempted to avoid “Lift Every Voice and Sing” by James Weldon Johnson, but I was reminded of the backlash from the live performance at the Super Bowl of the song by Sheryl Lee Ralph. And yes an “apology was made, but………..” see image below. Then, a former Arkansas governor whose daughter is the current Arkansas governor weighs in. I will not share his thoughts here, but they are very similar to what was already shared. So instead of arguing and wasting brain cells, I write this:
Why question which American song we (Blacks) Sing
to a disgraced america with the lowercase a?
Whose decision was that there is only one song
ignited by war, leaving empty feelings rather than full?
Oh Key, call out those angry at the the thought of
something better; self-claiming righteous boast to the
world, saving lying face rather than the truth faith.
Who can attest facts from sin to which that
happened back then? They’re dead. An ode to the
politicians who beat america down, left black and dark,
who won’t see the future due to renouncing the past.
The Land of the Free and Home of the Brave has
ruffled feathers; different views that have been taught
continue to hurt us rather than help us.
Jessica, your poem makes an eloquent argument in defense of singing Lift Every Voice and Sing – this whole ‘controversy’ is so false and ridiculous. At the outset, I am awed by your words “to a disgraced america with the lowercase a?” I love how you cut through the foolishness and falseness of their ‘protest’ with this question,
I love the Lift Every Voice and Sing anthem; thank you for your poem!!
Thank you Maureen! If only others could feel the same way!
Jessica, the way you’re able to weave current events and atrocities into the poem written years ago speaks for itself. The line that stuck out to me today was: “Who can attest facts from sin to which that happened back then? They’re dead.” Your impassioned tone rings out through the beat of the poem, and thank you for writing and sharing this with us today.
You’re welcome Rachelle. I wish we could all be more honest and truthful about what really matters.
Standing and clapping!!! 🖤👏🏽🖤
I can’t fathom the ignorance of so many people, but they sure as heck don’t mind showing it off for the world to see.
This is powerful:
Praying for a better world for all! Thank you, sister, for your offering of truth and power!
I agree Stacey! No one can tell a story and the truth better than those and their ancestors who have lived it!
Jessica—this phrase is wonderful (among many)—The Land of the Free and Home of the Brave has ruffled feathers. Spot on!
Thank you Gayle. Now if only those ruffled feathers can be plucked and smoothed out. There is so much division in the world that I just think we all need to sip something and speak freely and respectfully while listening intently! Food would also help. Thank you for your words!
Jessica, loved the argument you made here, a plea for understanding and empathy. Your rhetorical questions, your imagery, your allusions were all gold.
Thank you so much Wendy! I always try to steer away from politics, but maybe I need to park for a minute.
Girl, ALL OF THIS!! I’m speechless after reading the social media comment. I’m speechless after reading your poem. Yes!! to every word your wrote.
Thank you Donnetta! Lately, social media has been my news outlet. I can easily click the “X” or scroll on….but I had to make a statement about this! Thank you again!
[Note: My poem sprang from Nikki G’s “…if I were a poet” idea. Susie]
WERE I A LIMB
Were I a limb
of the mighty oak,
I’d soak myself
unafraid and naked in the sun;
I’d drink the rains,
course the xylem,
fuel my leaves
to ensure you
asylum of a shady patch
in the fatigue of July,
casting a welcomed shadow;
I’d splay wide
to bask in warmth
and vast views,
to point at distant Rigel
in Orion’s anointed foot,
making sure,
at midnight
you looked up and ahead,
and didn’t miss it;
I’d beckon the kestrels’ return
every spring
and cradle them
through the gusts
and into the mornings
as Sol pulls up from the horizon
to illuminate
their black-tear-streaked eyes;
and I’d remind you
what it means
to be part
of something bigger –
what it means
to be strong.
by Susie Morice, February 20, 2023©
Susie, this is gorgeous! I love the poetry and the message. The active verbs and subtle rhymes — “ensure” and “asylum” and “bask” and “vast” and “beckon” and “kestrels” — pull me along to that final, wonderful stanza. So good!
Beautiful poem, Susie. I enjoyed so much how you have coupled rhyming vowel sounds throughout, making the poem such a glorious one to read- aloud: xylem/asylum, bask/vast, beckon/kestrel…these word choices are truly poetic, I think. I also love the message,
My friend, I’ve missed you, Susie!
So much to savor and enjoy here. I am your biggest fan!
And I absolutely adore:
And you, my friend, are always a gentle reminder that goodness lives amongst us.
🌞 🌹
Just stunning, Susie. Gorgeous internal rhymes and imagery, a sense of yearning and interconnectedness – makes me wish to be a limb on this same tree, alongside you <3
Susie—beautiful, beautiful. The third stanza stopped me cold. There is a majesty to this poem…
Susie, holy smokes, this poem is absolutely on fire! Wow! The personification rocks and the imagery is phenomenal. Your opening stanza completely captured me, and I absolutely loved “I’d soak myself
unafraid and naked in the sun;” Does that not sound wonderful, and the image of “their black-tear-streaked eyes” is riveting. I’m still knocked silly by your end “what it means/to be strong.” Gorgeous, powerful, provocative and priceless! So glad you shared your brilliant poetry today. I bow down to your wizardry!
Susie, oh how I have missed you and your words! The majesty of the oak (I have an affinity for trees) and all it does as it reminds us of being a part of something more travels through every verse of your poem. There was something about coursing the xylem and the rhyme with asylum that sung to me. Just beautiful!
Stacey— this is my first true golden shovel poem, as I misread the rules last time!🥴 Your poem is a love song. Thank you so much!
“Some people forget that love is
tucking you in and kissing you
‘Good night’
no matter how young or old you are”
Nikki Giovanni
Love
I believed that Some
times it is easier to walk away from people
if you can forget
all those moments that
taught you what love is,
(the ones that you didn’t know you would miss,)
like wrapping a scarf tight before tucking
it snugly into a collar so you
don’t get chilled in
the winter cold and kissing you
on the nose…just so.
I did not know that last ‘Good night’
Would be the final goodbye. No
one told me that the way you held me then would matter
still, or that you would linger in my heart. How
was I to know that you would never leave my young
soul, or
that my old
soul would remember who you
were then and wonder where you are
Now.
Gayle Sands
2-20-23
Gayle — I feel such a love and melancholy is the pondering in this touching poem. Any time something is an unexpected “last,” it just hurts to the bone. I especially was pulled by the last four lines…this is something I have felt in my thoughts about my mom…did they know that here we are so long past and still wondering. Lovely poem. Thank you. Susie
Oh my, Gayle – what a treasure of a poem this is. Such an exploration of grief and memories. That touching image –
Yes, we do carry this tiny love moments, always always always.
I love that you call yourself (or whomever the narrator may be! I’m assuming, here)
“my old soul”…letting the reader know /feel the passage of time, so many years, this memory continues to be held. Beautiful!
Gayle, I love this! Tender, lovely, heartbreaking. The start of your second stanza got me the most: “I did not know that last ‘Good night’ / Would be the final goodbye. No / one told me that the way you held me then would matter / still.” Perfection!
Wow, you’ve brought a loving tenderness mixed with a gut-punch of sadness in a sweet poem of life and loss.
I long for that kiss on the nose and those warm embraces only my mom could give. But I sincerely appreciate how they’ve lingered in my heart all these years.
Thank you, Gayle! You’ve written a perfect first golden shovel! 🤗
Hello all! I wanted to share a photo of one of my student’s illustrations using a line from Lift Every Voice and Sing. Art is such a fun way to look into our students’ hearts! She used the line “facing the rising sun of a new day begun” to inspire the drawing.
Stacey — Isn’t that just spectacular?! Love that! Susie
Oh, that is a glorious sunrise!
Such a special way to explore the song in a deeper way.
This is great!
Fantastic! This makes me want to try to paint something myself and I can barely draw a line.
What a beautiful image of power and hope. I’m taken in by the colors and enjoy seeing those raggedy edges like flames or like the way we see the sun’s rays soak into the sky. The figure in the foreground is wonderfully shaded by the glory of that light. While the person appears tiny, they feel mighty to me as they stand fully absorbing the radiance. Such a wonderful vision!
Lifted line from Giovani: ode you with my love song
A reminder for reviewers
in crafting critique remember writers need your ode
and in the heart of that ode, ask for their you
in paper, post, poem the you is who readers are with
call for personal pronouns, demand POV in my
invite the writer show the hours they wrote with love
and remember: your review may lift or silence their song
Sarah, wow, you’ve taught a lesson and given a gentle reminder in a golden shovel poem! You are the guru!
A valuable lesson for all of us as teachers responding/reviewing students’ work as well.
🌷
Sarah—wow…”remember: your review may lift or silence their song”. We are right back to the importance of the “me, toos” of yesterday’s prompt!
Sarah, the building of writers is the spirit in this group, and I am so thankful for your strong position on the lifting and not the silencing of song. We are blessed that we are in a place where we can bloom with such positive words.
Oh, Sarah, I see what you’ve done right here… you are so crafty. I love this reminder. My favorite line is “call for personal pronouns, demand POV in my.” That teacher-thing is pretty strong… I just really smiled and love this! You are a guiding light, my friend! Susie
I agree with Stacey – you’ve crafted a lesson for all of us here, how to give feedback to writers. I adore that last reminder, ‘your review may lift or silence their song’ …and how important it is to always know that the writer wrote with love, yes, yes, yes. Thank you!
Sarah, oh my goodness, your poem speaks so much truth. I love your ending because I think it is absolutely true. I am sort of laughing because I chose the same line and now am completely embarrassed as this is such an important message and I just wrote something completely silly.
Oh, Sarah, what a gorgeous reminder. So much good advice really–give them your ode, yourself, “and remember: your review may life or silence their song” is spot on, and “song” was a wonderful word to end your poem on. You made it into magic.
OH, Stacey, we never can try too many times to use a Golden Line. I had a list of lines that I thought would work well from a previous time we did a Golden Shovel poem, so I grabbed one of those. Thanks for the great prompt and wonderful mentor poem.
The Golden Shovel line is . . .
“With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come”
from The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare
Better Than Squints and Scowls
Our faces are marred, telling our stories with
crevices marking moments and hours and days and years of mirth.
Facial roadways of the good times and
experiences that elicited deep belly laughter.
Maybe even the wistful times when the subtle smiles emerge and let
our hearts reflect on times past before we got old . . .
a privilege denied to many, taken before the wrinkles
were carved out and laugh lines had come.
~Susan Ahlbrand
20 February 2023
Susan! My friend! So good to read your poem today. I love this phrase “Facial roadways of the good times” and am called to investigate new roadways around my eyes today!
Sarah
Susan, you must have overheard my conversation with my sister! We laughed about how the smile lines fade if we lie on our backs when we take selfies! LOL! We all have different signs of aging but none tell stories of joy like smile lines!
Grateful you’re here and especially thankful to be alive to witness my aging processes.
🤗
Susan, I’ve been thinking about all the serums lately – there’s a strong camp against those facial roadways of which you speak (visible ones on females, anyway), and your unhindered salute to the wrinkles here is reassuring that age is indeed a blessing – a thing to be cherished, not hidden. Your striking line is perfect, and your own lines? Perfecter. 🙂
Susan, your poem reminds me of Psalm 16:6 – “The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places.” It’s about heritage and land but part of me has always seen it as lines on a person’s face, from having laughed much in living a joyful life. “Facial roadways of the good times” – exactly! What a fantastic line you chose for golden shoveling – there’s so much to borrow from The Bard!
Susan, I love laugh/smile lines (and the crinkles at the eyes, denoting true smiles)! Thank you for celebrating them. (And I agree with everyone else, “Facial roadways of the good times” is a very cool line!)
Stacey,
Man, I love the golden shovel. Thanks for reminding me of it, and I can’t wait to bring it to Creative Writing class next week.
Thanks for introducing me to “Kidnap” and “Life Every Voice and Sing” — loved them.
And I loved your golden shovel and could so relate to it (loved the title!). My favorite line:
” I let you IN
and around my broken pieces.”
I used one of my favorites today: Robert Hayden’s poem haunting poem “Those Winter Sundays” — and a nod to Neil Gaiman’s terrific poem for inspiring my title (his wonderful poem is also called “Instructions,” and I tear up every time I read it.)
Instructions
You’ll learn these lessons early:
How hearts can ache as badly as fingers with blueblack cold –
The morning after, how to forget that they ever ached.
That memories can be unmade quick as they are made.
That names can be replaced by she, by him,
when hearts are breaking.
When to give God a call.
Not to depend on that new dress
for salvation or a quick rush. When a house
is a house and not a home. When to trust him
and let a heart, cold
with trying, open – well
knowing
how precarious are these offices.
Wendy,
So many pearls of wisdom in these little instructions that feel like suggestions rather than orders in the lovely tone you crafted with your voice. The enjambment works so nicely here, too creating a shape to the poem and a moving my eyes across and down, pausing with the bold before trailing down for the next. Love the sound of this phrases especially ” “That memories can be unmade quick”
Sarah
Wendy, you’ve accomplished a real challenge and I’m in awe. I see that you chose the end lines as your own end lines. I’m impressed at how natural your flow is and the messages “instructions” are spot-on! I refer to my ex with a nickname only a select few know so I chuckled here:
And don’t we all need to learn that a new dress won’t fix anything? Love this, Wendy!
Wendy, what sticks with me is When a house is a house and not a home. Oh, how I think so often of those who live in mansions and don’t feel home because things have replaced relationships. Your lines are full of life-wisdom, and EVERY MOMENT is a good time to give God a call. I love this line, too – PRAY is my OLW for 2023, and every day I thank Him for the untold miracles – – where He has made a way I never had to fret about. This is lovely.
Many wonderful lines here, Wendy. I was likewise drawn to “When a house / is a house and not a home.” and the line “That memories can be unmade quick as they are made.” Both of these speak to the power we have to name and to retain. That we have the ability to shape the world around us and not be forced into being shaped by it. Thank you for this!
Stacey, thank you for bringing out the golden shovel. It is always a favorite of mine.
I love these lines from Seamus Heaney’s “Digging,” “Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.” It saddens me that the power of the pen, the actual pen, is lost on so many who prefer the haptics of electronics. So, here it goes…
Somewhere between
The first year of my
Teaching career and this morning, can’t put my finger
On it…things changed, and
I scratch my
head. Were I to thumb
Through the
Yearbook (1989) on the squat,
Out-of-the way table and see the pen
And ink tributes, (each rests
On the page, students’ cursive thanks snug
Their very pictures), it hits me bright as
Day. Cursive is a
fatality. Is technology the gun?
Oh, wow. How did you manage to get that message from your striking golden line? Here is some truth about so many things that have changed: “somewhere between / the first year of my / teaching career and this morning” Yes, when did that happen? I think cursive is still a casualty (not yet leading to death)–hopefully it will come back as art when the missing generation discovers the beauty of what they missed out on.
Yes, Katrina, to cursive! I long for those days again but I do think it’s a goner. I remember the fun I had teaching 4th graders to write in cursive.
You chose a challenging strike line for your golden shovel and created a masterpiece!
Brilliant description:
I hadn’t thought about how we would write on the backs of pictures before handing them out. Awwww. I miss those days.
Oh, Katrina. “And ink tributes” and “can’t put my finger” are such great lines leading toward “fatality” and yet, the script lives on in you!
Sarah
Katrina— I have not encountered that quote before, and am so enamored of the way you used it. I miss cursive, and those tiny photos…. Great memories!
Katrina, yes! Cursive IS a fatality – – a foreign language at best in these times. I can’t imagine a future without cursive, but here we are. You amaze me with all you were able to do with this striking line. It’s incredible!
Thank you, Stacey! What beautiful inspiration today. I loved this sweet image of bliss in this part of your poem: “a soft DASH / of bliss before and after my sadness.”
I loved reading Giovanni’s “Kidnap” poem–those last lines where kid and nap are separated is fun. James Weldon Johnson is a favorite; he lifts my spirit, even with this line I chose, “God of our silent tears”
God, are you there? It’s me, Denise
of endless hope, but thinking
our world teeters on the brink. Do not be
silent. Please, come and change our
tears into joyous laughter.
I was also inspired by Fran and Jimmy Carter. Here is a line from his poem “Considering the Void”: “an infinity of suns”
an earth of time brings an
infinity of stories–pleas
of possibility,
suns of soul
I guess I’ll stop there, but I have other golden lines I’ve lifted and I’m having fun with! Thanks, Stacey!
Hi, Denise! I am over here saying, “No, keep going Denise!” I love that you gifted us with two golden shovel poems. Fantastic start with
God knows we must maintain endless hope in these turbulent times.
“suns of soul” WOW! I feel like you could run with that! Gorgeous!
🌞
Love all the lifting you are doing today, Denise. I can feel the oding you are doing (to lift Giovani’s verbing of the word ode). I will carry your last line with me today because it is so lovely to say and to feel: “suns of soul”.
Sarah
Denise, your lines are timely. I love that you are Denise of endless hope…..what a testament to the spirit of faith and resilience. Yes, we agree – – God can change tears to joyous laughter – and the world needs it now more than ever.
Denise, I see a connection between these two poems, something between the joyous laughter and the possibility, along with suns of soul. Perhaps it is the idea of you being of endless hope and the infinity of stories. Despite the teetering, we can make it through. Your poems tell us so.
Denise of Endless Hope… that is you, for sure! The God of our silent tears, the God who sees and knows – how perfectly this poem-prayer flows. Then thinking of the infinity of stories and hope and possibility… your poems are just beautiful, like gems strung on a golden chain.
Denise, both of your poems are tender and beautifully written! I love how you open and end your first poem and how you describe yourself as having “endless hope “. Beautiful message! I loved “suns of souls” in your second poem. Transforming poetry!
Stacey, this is just the right prompt for me today! The news can make us lose hope. But, as James Weldon Johnson wrote in the poem we now know as the Black National Anthem,
“Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us.” So, I sing along with this poem.
Lift Every Voice
Despite the news, I still have hope.
Because of folks like you, I know I can cope.
Cope with news of elections lost
Cope with the rises in living cost
Deal with denials for teaching certain books
Just because of race or the authors’ looks.
When we are challenged to do what is best
When our morals and finances are put to the test
I have hope in the friends who will certainly do right.
Who raise their voices and continue the fight.
So, “let’s lift every voice and sing
Let earth and heaven ring.
Ring with the harmony of liberty.”
Liberty to do what is right for all.
Let’s not let our banners fall.
Lift Every Voice, indeed, Anna. What a beautiful poem for today. Thank you for the challenge and inspiration.
Well said.
Anna,
Thank you for reminding us of hope. You and I had a similar theme of poetic drafting today. I always appreciate your rhyming as well.
Anna, thanking God for your voice here and everywhere! You are a source of joy and light.
I love the way your poem honors the song as well as our current times.
Thank you, my friend!
🌹
Anna,
Thank you for your stunning verse today with the hope woven across and brimming throughout. On a day we are lifting lines, you “lift every voice and sing” and call for “Liberty to do what is right for all.”
Sarah
Anna, your message of hope despite the ever-present challenges in our world is a breath of fresh air – – the power to carry on – – the empowerment of voice and song and harmony.
Anna,
Bravo. Love the rhyme, the cadence, the message. You show us how to hold on to hope. That’s inspiring.
Stacey, thank you for this prompt today and your comforting Lilac Lullaby. I was inspired by the word “lift” and went with a modified golden shovel.
Half Freedom
ripples of sorrow fly
at sunrise
the lift only to half staff
lowers our hearts
our voices
in the mourning
everyday, elevating
this patriotic pennant as
half mast waves a
reminder of the mass
shootings outstripping
the mornings
Stefani, this is on the minds of so many, and I’m sure it’s affecting you as you return to a college classroom. I am sorry for that. And for the state we continually find ourselves in. My sons are grappling with this as they return to school this week in ways they haven’t before as it hit much closer than before, much too close. We are truly living with half freedom.
Stefani, thank for the beautiful imagery “ripples of sorrow fly/ at sunrise” and for your tribute to victims of gun violence in our nation.
Stefani, wow. The poem gets us right into a flag flying at half staff–knowing what that means, but then the starkness of the ending: “mass / shootings outstripping / the mornings” So powerful and sickening. Thank you for writing this.
Stefani,
This poem is the honest and raw truth of the times in which we live in “half freedom” and it hurts to my core!
Sending prayers of protection to you and everyone else who’s returning to campus where most certainly the tensions must be high.
We are a nation in mourning. Your poem nailed it.
🙏🏽
Stefani!
Sending comfort to you and your Michigan loves in mourning. Your poem honors and advocates in the “Half Freedom” title and the “half staff” and “half mast” but the entirely full humanity of the “our voices/in the mourning” and the “mass” still here feeling the “ripples of sorrow.” Beautiful and haunting.
Sarah
Stefani, this use of the modified golden shovel is a perfect license to the creative spirit. I love the way that words themselves inspire, whether by intact line or broken line. Your use of sunrise/mourning/mornings and the sorrow/shootings/half staff create a mood of both beginning and ending all at once.
Stefani — I feel the sorrow at that “half staff” flag…at the cutting pain in our losses…mass shootings just have me broken. You’ve evoked so much in such a few words. Really fine poem. The most provocative word for me is “outstripping.” Indeed. Susie
Stacey, your words today bud imagery, soft, beautiful, oh so beautiful. I am in love with “painting my greys in lilacs and lullabies” but the strength comes from “I let you in and around my broken pieces.” The holding tight and patching up before the rain – I just keep rereading – all of it. Beautiful, beautiful words, my friend!
I’m not sure what led me to Ray Bradbury today (maybe the rain in the end of your poem as his comes softly too) but I borrowed from his poem “If Only We Had Taller Been” and could have kept going (for the fun of it and the pull it held) but stuck to the golden shovel one line.
in the bayou of The
bay there grew a Fence
so tall, so high, one We
thought could reach the sky and one we Walked
along, beside, among, Between
but never through The
days, the months, the many Years
Jennifer, thank you for introducing us, (well, me anyway), to Bradbury’s poem. I just taught “The Pedestrian,” and I had no idea Bradbury wrote poetry. I love how you place the words of his poem “in the bayou” of your own world/memories. Thank you.
Yes, me too, Katrina. I didn’t know he wrote poetry either.
Jennifer, you are a poet. This is gorgeous. I have read it four times now. I just love all of it. It captured me with “there grew a Fence” and then “through the / days, the months, the many Years” I’m mesmerized by the imagery.
Jennifer, I appreciate this image/experience of the fence growing–lovely and purposeful personification.
I hope your son’s (and your) day goes okay today.
Thank you, Jennifer, for another gem. You painted a gorgeous picture with the line you selected. I’m imagining why they never walked through, only “along, beside, among, between” Definitely intriguing for me.
I love the sound and imagery of:
🥰
Jennifer . . . so, so good! I love the distinction of the prepositions/adverbs in these lines:
Jennifer, this poem speaks volumes to me about distance and relationships – – the childhood of getting along, playing by the fence, things seeming bigger because we are smaller, but as the years pass and the distance grows and life takes on a shape of its own, there are impermeable fences, boundaries, that prevent that kind of reconnection. It may not be at all what you meant when you wrote it, but it speaks such volumes to me in this manner. That’s what I love about your poetry – – there are such universal interpretations of meaning. This is beautiful – – simply truth.
Jennifer, there’s an ethereal feel to your lines. Part of it is spirit of place: the bayou and the bay, and childhood. Ghosts of childhood. There are leanings of imagination and longing. Then lines that could not or would not be crossed…these two fences are mighty metaphors. I am most captivated by “there grew a fence” – it was not built; it was organic…so compelling to ponder!
I love your imagery with the walking! Those last 3 lines are my favorite and really drive it all home.
“holes closed before we welcomed the RAIN”
Striking line by Stacey Joy
I dug and dug and all I saw were deep holes
My vision limited and closed
I cried tears to water them before
I remembered we
welcomed
spring flowers after the
seeds were planted and purposely prepared for rain
Margaret, the faith and hope in your lines is breathtaking. From “cried tears to water them” to “purposely prepared for rain” I love this, and how sweet that it came from Stacey’s poem, a third generation golden shovel.
Margaret, I love that pulled from Stacey’s poem, so beautiful. Your line: “I cried tears to water them…” is pulling at me this morning. Thank you for sharing today.
Oh, my! Margaret, this is a sweet reminder of impermanence, patience, and being gracious through the rain. I am honored that my words became your striking line.
I anticipate a spring season filled with unexpected blossoms after all the rain California finally got.
Hugs, my friend! 🌺
Margaret, as Denise says – a third generation Golden Shovel – it’s beautiful! This is so YOU – the planting (I think you posted a picture last year of planting something with one of your grandchildren) – the love of nature and outdoors and wood ducks and jump days and flowers and rain. Truly a Margaret poem!
That was my favorite line of Stacey’s today, Margaret. “To every thing there is a season and a time to every purpose…” – that is what your poem recalls for me. The purposeful preparation in your poem is key – and patience. Beauty and abundance are in the making!
Stacey, the line you lifted is gorgeous – and so is what you did with it. I love the lens of song for its healing, transformative power. Closing the holes before welcoming the rain – that’s just so beautiful and symbolic (one might drown if the holes do not close…).
I was thinking about it being President’s Day and so I went in search of poems written by our presidents. This led me to Jimmy Carter, the first U.S. President to publish a book of poetry in his lifetime. He is our longest-living president; at age 98, he has just entered hospice care. I have lifted a line from his verse. Thank you for this inspiration today-
“To hear the same whale’s song” – Jimmy Carter, “Life on a Killer Submarine,” Always a Reckoning and Other Poems
Homeward Hymn
when my life draws to
its close I imagine the last thing I hear
will be cicadas rattling high in the
green oaks as I pass, fervently calling, calling the way, same
lost and found returning sound of whale’s
pulsating destination song
Fran, I have such a fondness for Jimmy Carter. He has such a gentle charm. I love how you worked in the whale’s song as like a cicada rattling. Your title touches my choir singing heart.
Oh, Fran. To write of Jimmy Carter on President’s Day in a way that draws him homeward so near his passing, and to create such a beautiful poem with words that sound and resound in cicadas (did you write of them yesterday too?) and whale song in rattles and pulses (reminders of sounds of death and life), I am bowing to you now.
Fran, this is gorgeous. I love the repetition of calling, and “pulsating destination song.” I can picture your Homeward Hymn comforting President Carter now, or at least some version of it, as he waits in peace for his final destination. Jimmy Carter’s poetry inspired a golden shovel of my own today.
Fran, thank you for this peaceful hymn! I believe President Carter’s transition will be as lovely as your poem.
We all deserve such a glorious path homeward!
🕊️
Fran,
What a perfect way to honor Presidents Day and former President Carter! I don’t think that I knew he published a book of poetry. With him in hospice care, it’s so very approprite. He has always embodied gentlemanly kindness to me.
Your poem . . .. just wow. So poignant considering where he is in life.
Fran, such a heartfelt poem for such a kind and feeling president. Jimmy Carter has a heart for people – such a kind and gentle leader. I know that in the coming days he will hear those cicadas, those whales, his heavenly father….with those words: well done, my good and faithful servant. I love what you did to honor his life today. The world needs to read this.
Fran — Particular thanks for this tribute to President’s Day… I’ve been a long fan of J.C. What a good and decent man. I love the sound images of cicadas rattling…calling…and the whales making those incredible sounds through the oceans. Homeward Hymn is a lovely idea, perfect title. Susie
Thank you, Stacey! This is one of those prompts where I headed in with a clear determination on what I thought I would do and ended up with something completely unexpected. So – just go with it with me, folks! Stanza one is an homage to “Ties” by Michael Chitwood. Happy Monday!
“Come to the place for which our fathers sighed”
From James Weldon Johnson, “Lift Every Voice and Sing”
My father was a working man
every day of his life
collar and tie knotted tight
Monday to Friday and Sunday
for an hour or two
V-neck t-shirts stained from sweat
of chores around the house and yard
to keep his eight kids and a wife
safe and sound and comforted
In his later years he preferred
never to move from his chair
sat immobile listening
to the Tigers games
his eyes gone bad
shushing us to hear each play
At the end he chose to go
in the darkness
Mother at his side
his final effort
that long last sigh
of breath
I am closing in
on my own later years
and feel the weight of age
from working every day of my life
just as Father had
I see him now
in my own desire
to sit and let the world whirl by
“Shhh,” I tell the barking dog
I’m trying to hear
the music
Denise – such a beautiful, poignant tribute to your father. We grow older, more tired, and infinitely more appreciative of the sacrifices of those who went before us, provided for us, loved us to the end. I relate to so very much of this, the desire to sit and let the world whirl by, and, oh yes, to hear the music… real and metaphorical. Absolutely wonderful-
A beautiful tribute to your father. Like you, I am feeling the wave of age that makes me want to sit and listen, an observer to the young who are still learning about patience.
Denise, I felt as if I were walking beside your father as he worked and rested and then by you, as I feel nearer to the same. Your words are filled with love and honor, for your father, his life, and his work, as your life honors and loves. This is a brilliant poem, one I want to keep with me for its music.
Wow, your poem is so beautiful, Denise. I love the inspiration you got for this one today, which you probably wouldn’t have written if it wasn’t for reading James Weldon Johnson. I love the tie-in to yours and his listening. Your poem actually reminds me of one I read this morning by Jimmy Carter, “I Wanted to Share My Father’s World“
Whew weeee, this is a gut-puncher poem yet it also yields a soft easiness into aging. I held on and quieted myself here:
I love how you brought it full circle back to your own need to “hear the music.” I treasure silence and I guess I’m ready…
Beautiful, Denise! Thank you for offering this treasure.
Denise, this is a lovely tribute to your father, for his sacrifice and love and commitment to his family. I, too, feel the need to slow down and savor more of my time with less work and less rushing, fewer deadlines. I truly relate to this:
I am closing in
on my own later years
and feel the weight of age
from working every day of my life
You have courageously given us a “Me Too” nod, those of us who want to sit ahile and let the world whirl by. Today is a good day for that, my friend!
Denise — The progression of life changing and yet staying the same, being handed from generation to generation is quite beautiful here. This was very touching to me. Seeing yourself as a parallel in those last 3 lines was perfect. I loved shushing the dog. It could’ve been me here with Rayo. Lovely. Susie
I love this poem! Thank you for sharing. I especially enjoyed how you circled the ending around with “I’m trying to hear the music.”
And we come full circle, don’t we? This tribute to your father is so touching—your words tell us so much. And that last stanza…
Stacey, thank you for hosting us today. I love Nikki Giovanni’s work and I love your poem and creativity – that soft dash of bliss is mesmerizing! Thank you for hosting us this week with such amazing prompts!
I took a line from one of my favorite Mary Oliver poems – The Storm.
Vertigo?
I’m not sure what’s happening with
all of this wild
dizziness ~ {stay under me, feet}.
Kim, I almost went straight to Oliver this morning myself… your poem makes me wonder: Are you suffering vertigo at the moment?? I certainly hope not, and if so, I hope it soon passes; and either way you have nailed the sense of it in your usual, spare, Kim way!
Kim, this is perfect given your recent mishap. Because I’m a klutz, I’m constantly worried my feet will betray me.
I hope you are not experiencing vertigo. It can be so debilitating. Mary Oliver has a lot to offer in golden lines. I have Wild Geese nearly memorized and often go back to it for stability. “You don’t have to be good.”
Kim, I get vertigo once in a while and this sure is what it feels like. But it’s also what the world feels like too. And the current time of year with teaching. And, And, And… I love what you bring forth from Mary Oliver’s words.
Kim, you had me at “Mary Oliver.” You capture the insecurity that vertigo causes. How many times have I thought something like, “stay under me feet.”
Kim, all the best in overcoming the dizziness. You have done a great job conveying what’s going on with three short lines. “all of this wild / dizziness” Yes, it does sound like vertigo. I hope you are not suffering with it now.
Hi, my friend, my golden shovel inspirer! I hope you aren’t suffering from vertigo. A close friend of mine has had bouts of it for the last 5 months. She was blaming it on the vaccine (everything wrong is the vaccine’s fault according to her). But her doctor said it wasn’t. I hope you are back on balance soon.
Wild feet! Ooof, that’s a lot in just two words!
Oh, Kim . . . I am often a victim of vertigo. It can be so debilitating. I am impressed you are able to create something with a swimming brain. So well done.
Do you ever do the Epley Manuever? I was advised to and found it on YouTube. It’s been a gamechanger.
Kim – You selected my very favorite poet…but then again I think there are a lot of favorites, now that I think about it. I loved this. “Say under me, feet” …that’s me every day. LOL! Hugs, Susie
Kim, your poem in its brevity perfectly captures the sense of dizziness one suffers from Vertigo. The question mark in the title is unsettling. Hugs to you and hope you’re not suffering.