October’s writing inspirations come from Andy Schoenborn. Andy is a teacher at Mt. Pleasant High School in Mt. Pleasant, Michigan. As a past president of the MCTE and an NWP teacher consultant for the Chippewa River Writing Project, he has over 90 professional development contact hours and continues to facilitate learning locally and nationally. Subscribe to Andy’s newsletter and follow him on Twitter@aschoenborn.
Inspiration
For children play and imagination transform the world into a place they long to be. It seems, as adults, we can lose sight of the importance of play. The month of October, however, invites adults to reconnect with imaginative play especially during Halloween. It is during this time that many adults allow themselves to adopt a new role or identity for a few hours. For this poem, let your imagination soar and try on some new voices.
Process
- As you write, play with visual and auditory imagery to transport your readers into your world.
- For some it helps to start from the perspective of a child where imagination can flow freely.
- Consider playing with dialogue, onomatopoeia, and capitalization for effect.
- End the poem with gratitude for the gift of imaginative play.
Sample poem: “It’s Good to be the Joker or a Pink Unicorn” – Andy Schoenborn
She wore a mischievous grin, placed hand on hip, pointed her plump finger at me, and said, “Dad! You be the Joker and I’ll be - Batgirl!” She zapped me with her energy -- HahaHAHAHahAhahahaHA! I WAS the JOKER! “Oh! You think you can stop me, Batgirl?! We’ve been down this road before and I always…” “Fall asleep, Joker!” she waved her command at me and I fell limp to the rug, snoring loudly. She snickered and jumped on top of me, “Got you now, bad guy!” Meanwhile...I snored. Pushing herself off of me, she stood straight up and waved her finger at me again, “Now…be a… PINK UNICORN, dad!” I whinnied and bucked onto hands and knees (ahem)...hooves and pranced around the area rug. She climbed on my back and we galloped until she was bored or I was out of breath -- I don’t remember which came first. Either way, it was good to be the Joker or a pink unicorn.
Your Turn
Scroll down to the comment section and write your poem. It need not be long nor follow the prompt but give it a try if you wish. Just write whatever is in your heart or on your mind in any form it takes. Then (or before), respond to at least three other writers using any of the sentence-stems offered below. Check back throughout the day to read the response to your writing (and smile).
Sorry I’m late – so much going on this week! However, I HAD TO take on this challenge. TOO MUCH FUN!
Daddy! Let’s sword fight!
Best #20 I ever spent – NERF swords!
It’s on.
SMACK! WHIFF! THUNK!
We swing as if the castle was under siege!
I am the demon horde (probably, if you ask the other guy…)
Leo is Link, Warrior of Hyrule!
I got your arm! You can’t use it now!
He leaps to the couch, and then jumps and turns to attack my armless side.
I got your leg!
Now I hop around like the Knights Who Say “Ni!”
It’s only a flesh wound!
It’s all fun and games until…
WHACK!
A knuckle shot. That’s a killer. That will bring down Goliath.
Who knew that a wimpy little foam sword could inflict so much pain?
Pause! Pause! Pause!
Time-outs no longer exist (unless you’re being punished for hitting your sister in the head with a sword while she’s doing her homework).
It’s the 21st century. We use the language of the people!
No more knuckle shots!
A new rule is added right below “No head shots” – that one was my fault.
This is not over!
We’ll meet again, Link!
We were bats
dressed in black leotards
nestled in our dark
closet cave.
We shared each other’s breath
grew dizzy in the heat
a game of stillness and silence
until she declared it
night
when we would
swoop through the living room
bat sisters
What a sweet moment! I love the burst of energy as they move from stillness in the closet to a “swoop” through the house!
I love this poem. Sharing each other’’s breath is a wonderful phrase. I would love to have swooped through the living room with you!
“Uncle Steve! Uncle Steve!
PLEAZE! Can I go in the pond today?”
“Joe, you know the pond is for the fish,
not for swimming,
right?”
“Who says? Why can’t I go in?”
He pouts, lower lip jutting out,
the devil in his eyes.
“Let’s do it!” Uncle Steve shouted,
the devil in HIS eyes.
The boys, 7 and 51, donned their trunks
and gingerly lowered themselves into the pond
purportedly to clean the filter.
They giggled, they shouted, they squealed.
Their unapologetic glee was written all over their faces.
They tried to catch koi and goldfish with their hands.
They tried to touch the frog’s back before he jumped.
“I did it! I did it! I touched Jaws!
He’s the biggest fish ever and I touched him!”
“Uncle Steve?
This was the best day of my life!
When can we do it again?”
Oh, I so love the dialogue that brings the youthful voices alive! The anaphora in the second to last stanza adds a visual element of their partnership in this experience — giggling, glee, catching koi, frogs! I am there, and I love it!
Peace,
Sarah
I like “the boys, 7 and 51” and “unapologetic glee.” This is a treasure of a memory.
I love the looks given and returned with “the devil” in their eyes! What a fun moment!
Red Riding Hood
Cherry red velvet by the yard
Frog closures, red thread
“Can you add a pocket, Mommy?”
Black trim – who knew this stuff could cause
So many issues with a sewing machine?
One red button completes the single piece of the costume
Now add black stockings, a pair of ubiquitous pink cowboy boots
And a basket like Red Riding Hood would use to carry bread
Only this booty is sugar-laden and will be
Received, not given
A first-place ribbon and a stuffed animal awarded for the hours of work
And three years of growing Red Riding Hoods later
It is time for a new costume
Such vivid images, Debra! My favorite is, of course, the pink cowboy boots! I also love the idea of growing Red Riding Hoods!
Debra,
The first line actually makes me want red velvet cake…which is just because I am on break from the even course I am teaching and am hungry. That aside, I dive back in to revisit Red and the way she came alive with the crafty hands of Mommy! And first place! Nice.
Sarah
Your poem took me back to sewing with my mother and then sewing with my children. I enjoyed the clever description/flip of the basket now used to collect sugar-laden booty rather than carry bread!
Andy, Wonderful role play and dialogue in your poem.” I appreciate having this playful prompt today and the way it fit in w/ my travels.
Dancing, Singing, and Playing Dress Up
“Mommy, can I play dress up?”
“Yes, Stacey. Just put all my things away when you’re finished.”
(My thoughts) I am Tina Turner
And I will make my maid clean up later
I dove into Mommy’s silver sequin cocktail dress
My feet and calves got lost
Inside her patent leather GoGo boots
And the bouncy page boy wig added a final touch
Anna Mae Bullock
Better known as the one and only Tina Turner
Shimmied her way onto the stage
I had no audience, well, no REAL audience
But I saw the masses standing and cheering
Ready to travel to Nutbush City Limits with me
On Highway Number 19
My thick thighs and I were rolling, rolling
“Rollllllling on the riverrrrrrrrrrr…”
“Get up boop boop boop up boop boop boop……”
I flung my hair from the floor to the ceiling
Shook my butt and jerked my arms
Until the crowd shouted for more
“Girl, you are headed for Hollywood!” Mommy screamed
“I AM Hollywood. Don’t you know who you are talking to?
My name is Tina Turner!
BIG WHEEL KEEP ON TURNIN’
PROUD MARY KEEP ON BURNIN!
Stacey, I saw every image and felt the breeze of every jerk of your head and was blinded by those sequins and HEARD THAT MUSIC. What great line to end with – proud Mary’s dream never dies, and those wheels keep on turnin! I absolutely adore your poem and the way you shared your shimmying sequined moments with us!
What a picture! I was there with you, dancing!
Stacey — This is so fun! Tina Turner spent a lot of time in St. Louis, and she was iconic here when I was in high school and college. She used to rock on at the Imperial Ballroom, when we were all crazed with dancing. So, her indomitable presence in the music and dancing scene here was part of my growing up. I LOVED her. She was wild and sexy and fantastic. A friend of mine used to say that “what the world needed was a hologram of Tina dancing on the coffee table… those legs! Those incredible legs!” You captured that in your poem today! “Rollllling on the riverrrrrr…” I love the shimmy and and sequins…you in your mama’s dress. You are indeed a “PROUD MARY…” I love the energy of this one! Thanks for taking me back! Susie
Thank you for introducing us to your mom in the conversation and in the clothing and in the body and in the voice! I just love being in this scene with you two.
Sarah
Shedding a few tears because I sooooo deeply miss my mom. It’ll be 9 years this December since she passed. I’m grateful you and the others who read were able to feel her. She and I both have (had) those legs. We used to say it’s our “leg”acy!
What a great poem! I love the way the music pumped through it. I heard “Proud Mary” before I got to “BIG WHEEL”!
We visited Neuschwanstein Castle, the model for Cinderella’s Castle at Disneyland, which, of course, prompted me to think about little girls playing princess.
“Delayed Coronation”
Once upon a time in a land of her mind
Every little girl lived like a Disney
Princess in her imagination.
Courtiers curtsied and consumed crumpets as
They sipped tea from imaginary cups,
Pinky fingers posed in mock monarchy, these
Worlds of Make believe. Father pretended, too,
Until his little princess discovered
Cinderella never lived in Neuschwanstein Castle.
King Ludwig II never finished his home in the
Bavarian Alps. Wars marched on without end.
Only the glass slipper cracked and crumbled. Still, we gaze through glass ceilings, dreaming.
—Glenda Funk
Glenda, again, another beautiful poem. This one speaks to me and my inner child. “Until his princess discovered… ” that’s when it all hits home for me. I had so many deceptions as a child that were once my best reality. The “glass slipper cracked and crumbled” sealed the deal for me. GREAT!!!
I do love your phrasing. “Pinky fingers posed in mock monarchy”. perfect image, perfect alliteration…
Glenda — a marvelous structure … that’s quite a dandy castle. I really enjoyed the princess imaginings…the tea and the pinky fingers posed… fun. My favorite part, though, is the play with the glass slipper cracked and the glass ceilings… dreaming of what is still a make believe. But those things that “crack” and “crumble” might just be the hope and action of that which changes. You always write such provocative stuff… thanks, Glenda…glad you’re still writing even though you’re out there touring in grand retirement style. Susie
Glenda,
I LOVE the alliteration in the phrases: “Courtiers curtsied,” “consumed crumpets,” “mock monarchy,” and “cracked and crumbled.” And, the shift in lines 8 and 9, contextualizes the ideas beautifully.
Thank you!
Andy
Glenda, your last line is powerful as a stand-alone. I think you should make an inspirational meme with it and let it go viral. I have been to Neuschwanstein and I too found it hard not to think of Disney and princesses.
Oh, the harsh realities when dreams are met with reality. I love how your poem paints the dream of the innocence of childhood and then the discoveries of the reality when maturity kicks in, but yet the conclusion of the gazing through glass ceilings while dreaming shows that the hope never leaves that there is still that fantasy world that exists. You rocked this!
The title of the poem is so powerful. I stopped and let that sink in for a bit before reading on. A fun line was “Courtiers curtsied and consumed crumpets” which contrasted with the final line of “glass slipper cracked and crumbled.” And I loved the picture you posted on Facebook, too
Sarah
Hiawatha Lived Next Door
I was three, maybe four.
The tepee was a card table covered with a blanket.
The fire was real—crackling in the brick hearth
In the tiny living room.
Hiawatha crouched down, crawled under the table
(I mean, into the tepee)
and we recited together…
“By the shores of Gitche gumie
By the shining big sea waters
Sat the wigwam of Nokomis
Daughter of the moon, Nokomis…”
Today, only this bit comes back to me, not exactly right.
The living room transported.
The lake sparkled, fish slapping their tails insolently in challenge to the warriors.
The wind ruffled my hair.
(not my current “just cut my own bangs” hair, but long black braids)
I smoothed my dress (no, my deerskin poncho), retied my moccasins
(THEY were real—straight from the Western catalogue)
And adjusted my feathered headdress.
We pow-wowed. (I never was quite sure what that meant…)
Then Hiawatha called out to my grandmother, cooking dinner in the kitchen,
“Old Nokomis, is it time to eat yet?”
We crawled out of the tepee,
Hiawatha and Daughter of Nokomis.
My grandfather took down the card table and folded the blanket.
and we joined my grandmother at the table for supper.
Hiawatha lived next door.
Gayle — Erecting that tepee with the table and a blanket and determining “Hiawatha lived next door” is just so playful. I smiled at the interjections of your grown-up self — funny. Moccasins out of a Western catalog–LOL. I’m curious if you learned the Hiawatha lyrics from the Longfellow poem or from some old Hiawatha movie? Kids pick up such great stuff from all over the place. I just loved the idea of transforming your living room into this pow-wow scene. Delightful. Susie
Susie—my grandfather taught me the poem. This is one of my favorite memories. He was a barrel chested man, 6 feet tall. I have no idea how he even fit inside our “tepee”!
Gayle, I love the line, “The living room transported” as it fits so well into the idea of imagination and the inspiration today. I also like imagining a child’s own haircut and how you weaved that in with other notions of reality throughout the poem.
What a neat memory you shared in this poem! I’m getting that feeling of The Indian in the Cupboard and all of the fun of a culture different from our own. I love how the living room transported and an ordinary card table and blanket could become such an authentic teepee. You have a treasured memory!
Gayle, this brings back a flood of memories of my own play acting and that of my children. I love the use of quotes and the sense of “the living room transported” w/ make believe fish.
Gayle,
What a grand (: )) Hiwatha you had 🙂
Childhood with a grandpa who plays along is a blessings.
I enjoyed reading about how you transformed everyday into the land of play.
Thank you for bringing me back to the days of make believe, the joy of Howatha next door.
Gayle,
This line…”The lake sparkled, fish slapping their tails insolently in challenge to the warriors.” So vivid and full of consonance with the “l” throughout.
Sarah
“Trick or treat!
Trick or treat!
Give me something good to eat!
If you don’t, I don’t care –
I’ll pull down your underwear!”
I chant as I gallop up the narrow walk
Leading to two white houses connected by a garage
Paint peeling
Coats chipping
Flaking like fingers.
“YAH!” is used
to greet my classmate.
I am a ninja slinking through the night.
My face is wrapped in soft black cloth
beads of saliva and condensation
clinging to the fabric near my mouth
near my nose.
Only my eyes are visible as I reach my yearning hand towards the basket
filled with Baby Ruths, Hershey bars, Whopper balls
The sickly sweet sugar scent permeates the crisp fall air
I shove my hand in the basket and grip the foil-like wrappers
My eyes and appetite are greedy – longing to take all of the candy
But there are more people in line behind me
And more porch lights on
Down the road
Reluctantly,
I release my haul and take two pieces.
A milky way and a snickers.
I grin from ear to ear, feeling superior in my draw of candy.
I turn round and saunter away
To hear my friend yell, “Hey! I didn’t even know it was you!”
And I release a soft breath of air
Warming the fabric covering my lips
Smiling to myself
I am a Ninja
The warrior
Concealed in the night.
Thankful
My parents let me skip princess costume
In favor of my black illusion
https://kindrapetersen104.wixsite.com/mysite/post/october-3-5-day-writing-challenge
Kindra — I’m scooting right along with you from house to house. The fanciful choice of Ninja warrior is funny…and this little warrior is so into it that you just have to love her. I remember that same holy-cow-so-much-candy-and-so-little-time amazement as she digs into the bowl…. and that self-monitoring pulls out 2 pieces because there are kids in line behind her. Sweet. Words that helped build the image for me included “gallop” and “flaking like fingers” and “sticky sweet sugar scent,” And I love-love-love the trick or treat ditty at the beginning — It sets the tone of a happy, creative kiddo. Thanks! Susie
Kindra-I just got sidetracked with your blog link at the end;) My favorite stanza was the last, a bit of a twist and yet something I could relate to as a parent and a female. Happy Halloween.
Kindra, this is so much fun to read and picture. How clearly I recollect this when I was in costumes: beads of saliva and condensation
clinging to the fabric near my mouth
near my nose
You capture the essence of the thrills in being masked as well as the slow burn under the mask. I especially loved the end “skip the princess costume/In favor of my black illusion” because of the freedom in being what YOU wanted to be. Thank you for taking me back in time to a wonderful memory.
I’m loving the sensory detail of feeling like I’m wearing a Halloween mask once again. Yes, it was hot, and it was uncomfortable, but it was also a great feeling to be so unrecognizable and in a situation where we were all having fun – with everyone, because we couldn’t tell our friends from our not-friends.
PLAYING SCHOOL WITH DEANIE
“Let’s play school!”
I knew all about being bossy.
Deanie and I lined up
our little chairs and stools
makeshifting our bedroom
into a classroom,
the chalkboard slate parked
on a borrowed kitchen chair.
Our ragtag students: dollies,
with straw brittle hair
and sorry homemade clothes,
propped up to “pay attention.”
“Good morning, class, I’m Miss Morice.”
Instructing Deanie,
“You be Little Linda today,”
as I strutted
up and down our two rows of “pupils,”
bossing, tsk-tsking, teachering —
arithmetic, reading,
and coloring time.
Deanie, pulling Crayola stubs from her cigar box,
dutifully drew her stick people family
with the sun always in the corner.
In mostly spent coloring books,
I schooled “stay inside the lines,”
“do this… do that…”
But reading always my favorite,
dollies and Deanie spellbound
while I rattled on from the raggedy text
about ogres and giants and trolls,
pausing to show the pictures.
“…the end. Okay, class, it’s time for recess.”
We blew out the screen door,
letting it slap back with a whap,
off to the burly maple to swing,
the rope strong, the wood seat worn smooth.
I pushed, Deanie pumped
high enough and then higher still,
her long curly ponytail streaming behind her
through the air
till she squealed as I ran underneath
her little taut legs
aiming for the sky.
Fast forward a couple decades
and then for a lifetime,
two public school teachers,
still reading,
always writing,
swinging
to our dreams.
by Susie Morice
Hi Susie,
The adjectives you used to capture the pretending took me to the places you’ve described. All of the “makeshifting,” “Instructing,” “tsk-tsking,” and “teachering” work to share the rough ideas children grasp on to when they play. The ending brings it all together in a friendship that continues to this day.
Thank you!
Andy
I love the sound of this: We blew out the screen door,
letting it slap back with a whap.
How fun that you both ended up as teachers – who had played school during your childhoods and watched your “dreams” come true – – or at least mostly come true, once the dream and the reality stepped on the scales and the good outweighed the bad.
And what is it about that sun, always in the corner? I love the allusion to a student who might always be in the corner, but I’m sure it’s not Deanie.. Sounds like even though you were a bossy, teachery pretend teacher, you were a nice one.
I love your sweet memories here. Did you share it with Deanie?
Susie, “Teachering” is a fabulous word. It need to join Webster’s word hoard. Love it. I wonder how many teachers began their careers in the land of make-believe. Seems to me we got some good pedagogy through those lessons, but my favorite part is those last lines:
“still reading
always writing
swinging
to our dreams.”
Perfection.
That Blow-up Dino Costume
The one-foot clawed arms
Reach out, waving up and down
Off the five-foot prehistoric body
“Rahhhhrrrrr,” it screams
The three-old shouts
With excitement and pleasure
“Get me dinoshore, get me,”
Then runs off,
Slipping into the baseboards
as socks and wood floors
Don’t get along
“It’s a T-rex,” the mom corrects
Lost to the moment
The one-year-old is wailing
Scared at this creature
Frightened by the noises
“Look he’s in there,”
The mom stops the fun again
“Look, see his face, in through
the plastic?” trying to rationalize
They spy the
Ten-year-old inside
Off they all go, ignoring mom
Two battery-charged
Fans fill this time with
primitive fun
“Get me dinoshore, get me.”
“Rahhhhrrrrr!”
Stefani — This is a total chuckle. I was inside in “dinoshore” and I was behind the eyes of that little bitty one too… Poor mom, trying so hard, but the kids had this delight that all that explaining couldn’t snuff. The whole visual with the “Rahhhhhrrrr” is just so real. Slipping on socks…the goofy T-Rex arms…LOL! Totally, chaotically amusing! Good fun! Thanks, Susie
Stefani – These kinds of poems are the best! I love that way the three-year-old shouts “Dinoshore!” Perfect! The perspective changes from child to child are also great moments. And, “Off they all go, ignoring mom” is a very real moment in the life of a parent.
Thank you for sharing this lighthearted poem,
Andy
Your poem has that feeling of the need for Scooby-Doo fear. The need to be scared or chased, and the need to feel safe and reassured that it’s all going to be okay. I love the “dinoshore” and the “rahhhrrr.” It reminds me a lot of Harry Baker’s poem “Dinosaur Love,” which I love, love, love to watch him recite on YouTube. This definitely has that feel of a favorite!
Wednesday Addams –
The “normal” abnormal one.
Not the total monster of a Monday, yet
Never quite connecting with the Saturdays and the Sundays.
A haunted house freak
Where supernatural happenings are as predictable as the cuckoo
Where spirits come calling at all hours
With ailments as random as tombstone manners of death.
“YOU RANG?”
Of course. Some creep was always ringing.
The creepiest…
The kookiest…
The most mysterious…
The spookiest….
I never had to pretend.
There’s not much difference between
An asylum and a parsonage.
KIM — Oh my gosh, I’m here singing the Addams Family song! Now, I have the ear worm you set in place with your poem. LOL! I just had such fun reading this and then rereading it with that Addams Family lugubrious tone (“YOU RANG?”). So fun. I loved “predictable…cuckoo” and “random as tombstone manners of death.” How appropriate to bring in a tombstone! Ha! And I’m laughing at the last line especially… asylum and parsonage… oh too funny. I had forgotten that piece of your history. This is soooo creative! You really had it goin’ on here with this poem! Love it. Susie
Your conclusion is THE BEST! And I’m singing the song!
Kim, I love the “normal” abnormal one. I feel like you might be describing my family! I also love “the monster of Monday.” Well done.
“Five aircraft,
two landing pads,
one refueling station,
and a few special features
to discuss,” he says clearing
space for me to kneel.
“Where would you
like to begin?” he asks,
wide eyes, gesturing
to the space landscape
on his high twist Frieze.
I carried a stack of books
for storytime, a few cuddles,
maybe a juice box or snack,
but clearly the story would not be
on pages bound by a cover today.
“What is the name of this one?”
I ask. “I’d love to learn its features.”
“Oh, that is my favorite,” he says.
“Let me show you what it can do.
See, if you flip this up,
the hinge releases like so.
I modified the Lego design
to…” he explains. “Questions?”
I missed everything after “Lego.”
Hyper-what? Surface-mission where?
Versa-helio-trans-galactic capability?
“Yes. Lots,” I say. “But first tell me more
about…this one.”
“Oh, so glad you asked.”
Sarah — I can feel the anticipation and the excitement in your voice here. This knowledgeable voice of experience against the awestruck newness of kneeling to a Lego world of wonder–that really works. It’s almost spiritual…the kneeling to wonder…aaah, gotta love that! You have all those Lego details so clearly in view (“hinge releases” “Hyper-what? Surface-mission…Versa-helio-trans-galactic…” Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! :-0 ) And the asking of questions that open the entire toy box of glee for “he” who is so able to lay it all out there for you. This has a wonderful sense of possibility and youthful wonder that isn’t “on pages bound by a cover.” The hands-on… oh yeah! Love that! Thank you for starting the day with such a happy tone! Susie
Sarah, your poem reminds me so much of spending time with one of our grandsons who is full of sound effects as he flies spaceships and dinosaurs and other creatures without wings in a gliding motion alongside him as he runs. I sometimes look at him and think, “there’s a whole world that exists in this room that I can’t see or hear.” How wonderful that you took time with the Lego architect to listen to the intricacies of his design and to show him that what is important to him is important to you, too.
Sarah, you’ve perfectly captured ever excited 5 year old and their obsession, whatever it may be. You’ve also captured the kind, gentle relative who listens patiently without understanding. So relatable!
Andy — You certainly did take me right to the “area rug” with your little kiddo. Such a father-daughter moment. And playing along with the joker laugh and that joker “we’ve been down this road before.” My favorite, maybe, is the image of you falling “limp” in a slump to the floor. I could just see you do that and POOF a unicorn. And not just any ol’ unicorn–a PINK one, adding to the totally little girl fantasy of all things pink. Sweet as cotton candy, Andy! The energy in the poem is a burst and then the quick exhaustion that comes from that play. This is a delightful way to start my day. A poem to slip into your memory book/baby book of this little one. She can drag this out when she’s 13 and her hormones want to push away this little girl play…and she will blush with the love of a good daddy. Thank you for sharing this play-full mentor poem. Susie
Thank you, Susie, that is a great idea! The poem was a joy to write – so many memories in just one moment.