A very special thanks to all our March Open Write hosts: James Coats, Katrina Morrison, Wendy Everard, Rex Muston, and Shelley Martin-Young! We hope to see you all for our month-long poetry celebration: Verselove. See you back here April 1-30! Be sure to subscribe so you receive daily invitations.
Our Host
Shelley lives in Sand Springs, Oklahoma with her husband, dog, cat, and chickens. She is a Teaching Assistant Professor at Oklahoma State University, teaching a wide variety of courses to pre-service elementary education majors. Outside of teaching, Shelley spends much of her free time visiting cemeteries and discovering the rich history found in the cemeteries of Oklahoma. She is currently working on a book titled Oklahoma Cemeteries and the Stories They Tell.
Inspiration
Relax – What comes to mind when you hear that word? Maybe it is panic, anger, or a longing to be able to do just that. For many of us the word relax is elusive, a desire we have, but we can’t quite get there. We are just too busy. Life is passing us by and there is always something else on the list of things to do. We worry, and fret, and don’t relax. The inspiration for this poem is “Relax” by Ellen Bass. Basically, Bass says you might as well relax because bad things are going to happen, but we have to keep moving forward. You can listen to Ellen Bass read her poem here. This article has suggestions for using poetry imitations with your class including using Relax to write a poem about student teaching.
Relax (by Ellen Bass)
Bad things are going to happen
Your tomatoes will grow a fungus
and your cat will get run over.
Someone will leave the bag with the ice cream
melting in the car and throw
your blue cashmere sweater in the drier.
Your husband will sleep
with a girl your daughter’s age, her breasts spilling
out of her blouse. Or your wife
…
(read the rest at the link above)
Process
Read “Relax” by Ellen Bass and then read it again. Think about all of the things that are happening in your life right now goo or bad. Make a list and write your relax poem. When my students write their Relax poems, I have them start with Ellen’s first line. Bad things are going to happen. So start there and just write. Maybe by the end of the poem, you will be able to relax, let it go, and taste the sweet fruit.
Shelley’s Poem
Relax by Shelley Martin-Young
Bad things are going to happen
You will go fishing with your husband
and he will lose the car keys,
You are two hours away from home
and you have to have your car towed.
You will get the dreaded rejection letter
from your dream job and you get
violenly ill when you are away from home.
You will spend your life taking care of
a mother who never really appreciates it,
and dealing with a brother who ignores it all.
Your dog will die. A few months later your
second dog will die, and you just want peace.
Your son will go through a divorce because
his wife has decided she is gay, and he will
struggle and all you want is to make it better.
You gain weight, cut off your hair, and attempt
a new diet every few months, and you hope.
Then one day you get a note from a student
that tells you that everything you did for them
helped them survive the semester and they
made it because of you and you take a deep
breath and for just a moment you relax and
think maybe just maybe you will make it.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may 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.
Bad things
may happen –
the morning
the sump pump
stops working,
all you think of
is Noah and the
Ark
the afternoon
the 15-year old car
starts failing,
all you think of
are wagons with
horses
the night
the television
kicks the bucket,
all you think of
are story-lines on
pause
Continue on;
this too shall
pass
Shelley, this prompt had my mind whirling throughout the day. I listened to the audio of Ellen Bass and was caught between laughter and sadness.
Your mentor poem is one to save forever. I hope your students know how fortunate they are to have a teacher like you. My favorite lines are here, love the last three words!
WARNING, my poem is 100% my truth and may have some content that is hard to bear.
Bad Things Are Going to Happen Again and Again
Steve Harvey said, “You have survived 100% of your bad days.”
Like when your parents separated then had sex one last time
And conceived you, but let it slip how you were an accident
Like when your dad favored your sister over you
And you thought it was because you looked like your mom
Like when your best friend went through the windshield in an accident
And never showed up for school that morning
Like when you were raped in a home invasion
And it took years for you to sleep without fear
Like when your baby cousin died
And no one was sure it was natural
Like when you realized your husband was a cheater
And had another baby around the same age as yours
Like when none of your bills were ever paid on time
And you used credit to buy groceries and diapers
Like when your son was hit by a drunk driver
And you were 2 1/2 hours away from the hospital
Like when your mother’s cancer took over her body
And your father‘s cancer took over his
Like, when your stepfather lost the family home
And moved to another state to run from his grief
Remember, when good things happen
100% of the time
Because good things always happen
Again and again
©Stacey L. Joy, 3/20/24
This prompt really brought a lot to the surface for us today. Thank you for sharing so many of your bad things. It’s amazing how you managed to end your poem in such a positive note, but that shows us who you really are!
Dear Stacey…while I hover between heartache and horror with each passing scene of your poem, I keep remembering who you are and all the beauty you put into the world. That’s no accident. You are no accident. This reads like a whole novel condensed into verse. I want to rock the child you were and tell you everything will be all right; I want the family home to be restored; I would save your friend, heal your parents and the wounds on your soul, but none of it is in my power. Instead I am awed by your transcendence. You HAVE survived 100% of your bad days and remind us that we have, too, and that we CAN. You pull us with you, just as poetry itself pulls us to define and redefine the world and all that’s in it…to still find the good within, to still believe, to know, it’s there. I have no other other word but awe – except these: Thank you <3
Thank you, Fran. As soon as I read that you wanted to rock the child I was, tears poured out. I am thankful for my healing, my life, my journey and thankful for you.
Whew! What a hard time with all those bad things. The line that really got to me was that your dad favored your sister because you looked like your mom. What a relationship that must have been.
Thank you Stacey for sharing so much about you. Our group is so supportive and loving, We love you for it.
Stacey, wow, wow. You survived 100% of your bad days. To be cliche, you didn’t just survive, you thrived. You are such an amazing person, and the love that pours from you in spite of all the pain is a testimony to how you and God have made the most of all the days. I love the ending of your poem too, and could look forward to seeing a poem of all those good things that have happened. Thank you for your vulnerability and beautiful poem you have shared today.
Thank you, Denise. I actually feel like the good days poem must be written for the sake of balance. Perhaps there will be an opportunity to share it in April when we have 30 days to write together! Much love to you.
Stacey, I just wanted to echo what the others have said. Thank you for sharing with us, and, more importantly, thank you for being you. (And I wholeheartedly believe the ending of your poem: “Because good things always happen / Again and again.” YES!)
Shelley,
Thank you for introducing me to Ellen Bass and for your prompt.
I just finished reading The 57 Bus by Dashka Slater and I’ve had this powerful nonfiction story and these two young people stuck in my head.
HOPE
Bad things are going happen on bus 57.
You drift asleep with a paperback copy of Anna Karenina in your hands
and wake in flames, your skirt on fire.
You start screaming
At the hospital the doctor will note your legs look like “overcooked tuna” —
Third degree burns.
News will spread quickly about you, the man in the kilt, who was set on fire, except it wasn’t a kilt, just a skirt, because you like skirts.
You will spend weeks in the hospital, pumped full of morphine,
and there will be surgery after surgery as they harvest skin from your back
and there will be stretching, peeling, pulling, stapling.
When you finally are home, there will be itching and pain and percocet,
and somehow, you will find forgiveness for the boy who has inflicted this pain upon you.
Bad things are going happen on bus 57.
You thought you were pretty funny, just needed a laugh, wanted to punk someone, didn’t think their skirt would explode.
Didn’t think.
YOU, didn’t think and now…
Now you face two felony charges, each contains a hate-crime clause.
But, wait.
You’re not that kind of kid.
You’re sorry. You don’t hate that kid in the skirt. You write multiple letters to them,
apologizing, asking for forgiveness. You pray that they will heal,
that you can meet them someday and apologize in person.
You know you committed a stupid, horrible act. You know you deserve punishment but you hope for forgiveness and
You will be forgiven
but
you still will spend the next five years in a six by eight foot cell.
Thanks for writing about this important event, Tammi. I love how you present the dual perspectives in your poem. Well done.
Oh, no, Tammi! What a story! I am so glad the speaker one found forgiveness for the boy who set up the fire. I also see the kid’s regret about this horrible mistake. Thank you for presenting the both sides of the story. The title sounds hopeful for both.
Wow, Tammi, your poem just sent me to my library app to check out The 57 Bus. Well done, and I think this would be a good mentor text for a response to literature for students.
Tammi,
I had heard of this book but never read it. Now, I am trying to decide how to use this poem response in my book project for April! I love how you captured the emotions of both characters. My heart aches for both of them.
I am so happy I had time to come back to read. Thank you for sharing this.
Thank you for hosting today, Shelley! This is such a needed task, especially in the middle of a busy week. I loved the poem you wrote. Having an appreciation note from a student is so rewarding that many of our daily troubles fade. This task turned out to be more challenging today, so I am brief, without specific list of my worries.
Haiku-ing Through Bad Things
Bed things did happen,
But I don’t want to go there—
It still hurts today.
Bad things happen.
Daily news terrify me—
Wars, violence, pain.
Bad things may happen,
Escaping is impossible—
Learning to deal helps.
Relax, let it go,
Repeat it like a mantra:
Bad things, go away!
What a creative approach to today’s prompt, Leilya. The pain and hurt you are feeling come across in just a few words. I love your final mantra.
Leilya, the “Bad things…” starting each of the first three stanzas seems to need the message of the fourth “Relax, let it go,” I like that mantra in the fourth stanza too. That first stanza has so much emotion packed into that little space.
As a haiku lover, you made me wish we had one more day to write together! I love that you went from bad things happening to them going away!
♥️
Broken Foot Blues
By Mo Daley 3/20/24
What’s the worst that could happen?
You could break your foot
And be stuck in a boot
And struggle to shower
And trip on the makeshift dog gate
And have landscapers working on the patio
As you struggle to nap on the couch
Which sits right in their line of view
And have to hire window washers
Who are now privy to your weeks of
Household neglect
As you sit with your foot up,
Gaining weight
And feeling sorry for yourself,
Or
You could catch your breath
Shake it off
Write a poem
And move on with your day.
Mo, I can imagine how being stuck “in the boot” may feel! I hope you feel much better now. I love your optimism at the end with “Shake it off / Write a poem / And move on with your day.” That is a spirit! Thank you!
Oh, no! Mo I’m sorry to hear you are laid up. I hope you have a speedy recovery. Writing poetry is always great for healing!
Omg Mo! You made the best of the worst with this poem! I’m hoping you’re on the mend. Just try to enjoy this unplanned pause. You can read and write and breathe.
Hugs!
Day’s Events
What if I over-sleep,
don’t hear the alarm beep?
Can’t get out of bed.
Then there’s an accident ahead.
Traffic will slow me down
I’ll arrive with a frown.
Forgot my hearing aids.
Can’t hear what they want.
Hide behind shades
like just in from a jaunt.
My shoes are all muddy
no time to clean.
I didn’t study.
They’ll think I’m mean.
Will my lesson be good
enough for them to learn?
Will it be understood
until it’s their turn?
The sun’s going down.
Haven’t got it all done.
I want to finish
and have some fun!
Gotta sweep the walkway.
Dirt from the rain.
Wash it all down
into the drain.
No food for the cat.
Give a dinner scrap
and be nice with a pat
so she’ll sit in my lap.
The day’s at a close
I’ll be in quiet repose.
Won’t worry about tomorrow
or ironing my clothes.
time to relax
and breath a deep sigh,
watch tv to the max
then get some shut eye.
Thanks to James, Katrina, Wendy, Rex, and Shelley for this months prompts. I am sorry I missed two days. Really enjoyed those that I could do. It is so good to refresh my brain.
Susan, so much to do and so much to think about until day’s end, but honestly I think the cat probably prefers the food scrap and human lap. I adore the rhyme scheme you’ve used and may favorite line is the last one…..what a lovely gift to self to get some sleep and recharge.
Susan, such a busy day, but I am glad when everything is said and done, you have a tiny bit of time for yourself
“to relax
and breath a deep sigh,
watch tv to the max
then get some shut eye.”
I love your rhyming; it makes the poem so much livelier. Thank you!
Susan — love the rhythm and rhyme. I can relate too, especially to the feeling of not having everything done. Glad you found time to relax and watch some TV.
Susan, it was good to have you here this week, when you could be here. I like the rhyming and playful way you wrote your poem. All the busyness culminating in a time to just stop and relax, even when you still have more to do, like ironing.
Excellent rhyme and flow!! Very creative!
Hi, Shelley!
I just loved your poem — totally engaging. And Ellen Bass’s poem! Fire. Here my last effort for the week:
Those first few years of work:
More scared of them than they of me
I played things by the book
No time for joy, frivolity
Then one review on teacher site:
Serendipity.
“She’s kind of bitter,” griped a kid
And that, I couldn’t unsee
The years grew long, and I grew up
And broke out of new teacher rut
And found the key to joy at work
Embracing jollity
Everard turned Mrs. E
Kids wrote on my board with glee
I could finally be me
And happy followed
But
Opening my heart this way
Invited all of life my way
And kids would stay and sometimes say
Things that I wish they hadn’t
Their takes of woe, they break my heart –
Though tales of joy, too, play a part –
But all this would have never started
If I hadn’t seen
That “serious” has time and place
But pulls an uninviting face
Relaxing is the warm embrace
That lets kids relax, too.
Wendi, the trust factor takes a lot to earn and a lot to accept. It sounds like you have done both, and this is where you make a difference. I didn’t understand my first year of teaching why every Friday a kid cried on leaving and why he broke down on breaks. Until my principal explained: home is not happy. School is. Opening our hearts means pain and joy. I like the way you are so honest about the heartbreaking parts.
“opening my heart this way…” So much to learn and listen to those tales. Relaxing to hear the woe as well as the joy is the mark of a caring teacher.
Wendy, your journey through teaching is so inspiring. I never doubted kids adore and trust you. Creating such a safe environment is a huge work; those of us who work with students know it well. The heartbreaking parts are inevitable, but without them we don’t exist. Thank you for sharing!
Wendy,
This stanza really speaks to me:
“Opening my heart this way
Invited all of life my way
And kids would stay and sometimes say
Things that I wish they hadn’t”
Connecting with students is joyous but often painful too.
Thank you to all the hosts this month.
Chill
We’re all racing to meet the grim reaper.
During the journey your body will fail.
Your teeth will grow dull & chip.
You’ll spend a small fortune on crowns.
Your pancreas will flounder &
you’ll cross the rubicon into D-Hell.
Your hips & lower back will ache 24/7 so
you’ll contort your body to release pain.
You’ll feel the pulse of the metronome &
sense its rhythmic timing.
You’ll feel clock time & life’s tempo & make carpe diem your mantra.
You’ll find resources to see places your
father dreamed of seeing.
You’ll dine on crunchy insects &
slimy yellow sauces & prickly fruit.
You’ll swim with manta rays in azure seas.
You’ll float through red rock canyons in a hot air balloon like Jules Vern.
You’ll feel gratitude for medical advances sustaining your life for more trips around the sun.
You’ll run with your grandson, a
black boy full of joy.
You’ll watch him laugh & love books.
You’ll live with & love a partner who
makes the bed & vacuums floors.
Your life will be full of good things &
fascinating people, so plan anther trip &
chill.
Glenda Funk
Oh, love every syllable of this, Glenda. I so appreciate the naming of the bad and the gradual shift of and all the you have cultivated to create rhythm with the ticks of the clock so that every second counts and is appreciated, noticed, loved. Indeed, plan another trip. Yes.
Sarah
Glenda, the back. The back and hips hurting 24/7, as I understand, are common in women our age……and it is so real. I can’t just stand straight up out of a chair anymore like I used to. It takes a minute. When I was little, my grandmother’s knees would pop and I would laugh, and she would say, “Oweeee,” and the whole thing was funny to me. It’s not so funny anymore now that I know…. Your poem is delightful, especially the grandson laughing and loving books and a partner who helps clean. Those are good reasons to chill and take the trip.
Glenda, “so plan another trip & chill” – your voice resounds in these words! Love your attitude on life – facing reality, acceptance, determination. I am fascinated by the musicality of these two lines, thinking of a different kind of ‘ticking’ in life, dancing one’s way through:
“You’ll feel the pulse of the metronome &
sense its rhythmic timing.”
Glenda, I just loved this! Gorgeous imagery and lovely sentiments. That first line was arresting!
Glenda, from “Chill” to “Chill,” I loved your poem. Beginning with all the “bad” things we face with age, it didn’t take you long to get to “feel clock time & life’s tempo & make carpe diem your mantra.” It is amazing how much joy, fun, adventures, and love you have in your life. So, yes, “plan another trip,” friend, and enjoy every minute of it.
Glenda,
Your first line “We’re all racing to meet the grim reaper” really grabbed my attention. A reminder that the moment we are born we start dying and we need to live each moment to its fullest. Loved all your images of the trips you will go on and the run you’ll take with your grandson. Beautiful poem!
Glenda,
I love the shift from the physical pains to the exploration of soulful satisfaction. It feels like it hinges on carpe diem as well. Nice touch.
The way you described the metronome made me think on the shift between pains and pleasures, the swing from one extreme to another. Nice balance with the chill start and the chill end as well.
Glenda, I love this–all the bad in the introduction, and then the switch to the beautiful and good starting with that surprising “You’ll dine on crunchy insects & slimy yellow sauces & prickly fruit.” And then just gets better from there! What a lot of good that makes every trip around the sun a gift of goodness and grace. Beautiful!
Shelley – thank you for this prompt. A few years ago I heard Todd Kashdan (The Upside of Your Darkside) speak at a Learning & the Brain conference – he mentioned that for some people experiencing stress/anxiety, focusing on deep breaths is counterproductive – it just adds another layer to the stress. For some people, it is more helpful to express the worst-case scenarios – getting them outside of our brains can provide the distance needed to see them clearly. Writing to this prompt had that effect.
Better Out Than In
Bad things are going to happen.
Your oatmeal will burn and
you’ll run out of milk.
Again.
Your inbox will be full of irate parent emails
demanding that you quit or change or
see the light shining from every orifice
of their gifted cherub. Your department head,
administrator and superintendent will be cc’d.
Someone will have a topic sentence crisis
that will eat up your entire prep and that stack
of grading will continue to grow as the end
of the quarter/semester/year looms near.
Again.
Your husband will drink
behind your back. Or your brother — not
the one seizing with withdrawal –will realize,
with his therapists help – that you are to blame.
Again.
No matter how many miles you run or pages
you write or serum you spread, your body
will ache, falter and age. If you ever make peace
with the Googleverse, the world will shift
to a new platform.
Again.
There’s a story from your childhood –
The Old Woman Who Lived in a Vinegar Bottle –
and you risk becoming her:
bitter, selfish, and unsatisfied
as you wish your way away
from where you started. And if you live
long enough, you’ll appreciate the beauty
of your vinegar bottle –
simplicity preserved. Your joints will ache
as you knot the laces of your shoes
and set off at a slower pace.
Again.
I adore that children’s story; I read it every year when I felt my own mood spiraling into sour. There is so much humor hiding within your poetry lines that I appreciate so much, and I can tell you are far from living “bitter, selfish, and unsatisfied.” This poem is brilliant!
Kathrine,
Oh my goodness, so much of this resonates, bringing back some of the trauma and welcome distance and comfort in your knowing words of a typical day of teaching 180 “cherubs.” Since moving to college, the emails still cause panic but not nearly the same degree as those parent emails did.
And this ending of the day persists “Your joints will ache” and the call for appreciating “the beauty /of your vinegar bottle,” which I get even though I have to look up that reference to fully be in the know.
Loved this,
Sarah
Kathrine, there were so many pearls of wisdom in here, but this really made me chuckle:
“If you ever make peace
with the Googleverse, the world will shift
to a new platform.
Again.”
Going this through right now at school…again.
Relax
Bad things are going to happen
your sassy strong mother will get cancer
at 70 and leave you
within 6 months
Relax and see the blessing is your daddy
will step up
and offer unexpected emotional support
Bad things will happen,
grief will cloud your thinking and your heart
Some ill-fated emotional
decisions will be made
you will lose a house
and sell another house
Relax though because you’ve always
had a roof over your head
and your family is supportive
Bad things will happen
you’ll disappoint some people
and some loved ones will dishearten you
Relax though because
at some point you
realized your family needed a rescue.
Spirit and maybe your mother,
whispered and suggested you buy
family Disneyland passes.
Your teenage daughters eventually
reawakened after the loss of their
beloved grandmother.
You and your husband rediscovered
the teenagers within yourselves.
Relax some more and know
that the Magic Kingdom biweekly visits will
inspire, rescue, and revitalize them.
It will also resurrect your grieving marriage
and help all four of you to see the magic and beauty
in everyday life.
March 20, 2024
Seana, I love how you have coupled the tough and sad with light and joy, throughout each stanza of this poem. It feels as if you are holding a magic wand, determined to see and live the positive. Particularly wonderful, I think, are these two lines:
Seana, that part of life in saying goodbye to a parent is tough – but oh, the joy in rediscovering the wonder of the Magic Kingdom! Life runs the gamut of despair to joy.
Seana, your poem is raw and sweet at the same time. The struggles in your poem are honest and real. I love how balanced your poem. Wishing you all the best!
Shelley, I loved listening to Ellen Bass read her poem “Relax;” thank you for this, and this prompt. Thanks to all, for these delightful five days of writing poetry together.
Release
With each year of living
comes pain of witnessing
the young husband
who disappears
declaring the marriage over
the teenager
found on the floor in the basement
drowning in addiction
the mom
who starves herself as she
descends into suicidal darkness
the father
who admits his life has been one big lie
the legacy of straw households
built on secrecy
and judgment
and hurt
days of helplessness
trying to breathe
needing hope
put pen to paper and let
myself spiral
just for a moment
let go
Maureen,
The hopefulness in putting pen to paper is what sustains, isn’t it? I know you through your pen so find myself thinking back on your words as I read your poem today. Your poems bear witness, and that’s a lovely thing.
Maureen, I commented on your blog today, too – the poem is beautiful, and the older I get, the more I feel the pain of the world around me, too. I think I was oblivious a lot of it as I was growing up; I knew it was there, but I didn’t have the empathy factor to imagine how much it hurt others. That didn’t come until I was an adult, and now there are times that I think I take on more pain than seems possible as I feel for others – some of whom I don’t even know. It’s a struggle sometimes, this world.
Roll wit’ it
To do lists stacks on stacks,
Broken with $100 Wal-Mart sacks.
Jumbled up teaching distorted facts,
Always late, came in the back.
No time for jumping jacks,
Classroom jammed packed!
Forgot my lunch sack!
Students busting slack!
Jabbing me with cracks!
My creativity is flat.
Forgot to brush, need a tic tac.
Bosses talking smack!
With the standards to unpack!
I want to go back to my shack!
I’m not making an impact!
I deserve a plaque,
Decorated with the Frog on Sugar Smacks.
I cannot cover my tracks,
I’ve been attacked.
By the anxiety axe,
My life is hacked!
I ripped my slacks,
My crown is like Jack’s.
With crumbling cookie snacks!
When I speak, I quack,
I’m the cheese with no mac,
The phone with no sax.
I’m a wrecking – wax!
Under attack,
From the lack of lax,
And I am taxed on tax,
Me and myself made a pact,
Let’s breathe and RELAX!
Whew!
-Boxer
The short, rhyming lines and frequent exclamation points have this poem pulsing with energy.
You are on a fantastic roll with this long series of a single rhyme; I especially love the contrast of
Shelley,
Thanks for the prompt. I went a little off course, but I started exploring bad as a balance to good, and couldn’t quite shake it off. Last stanza due respect to Blood Sweat and Tears.
HARSH REALITY OF BALANCE
Bad things are going to happen.
When I drive in the Bighorns
there will be valleys,
testing my brakes between the peaks.
My quads ache from the 5k,
and fight for attention
against the endorphin rush
and the feeling of accomplishment.
There will be loses in the Celtics’ season,
interspersed Ls between the Ws,
creating reactions from the fans
of fair weather.
There will be yin
and there will be yang,
and I still don’t know which is which.
I will contract,
I will expand,
clinch and relax,
moving in a balance because of it.
I will breath in
and I will breath out,
and string a lub dub cadence of living
from moments,
to days,
to years,
transitioning to forever sleeps.
And when I die
and when I’m dead, dead and gone
there’ll be one child born
in our world to carry on, to carry on,
yeah, yeah.
Rex, I can hear the breathing in the 5k and feel the sore muscles, then the breathing at the end and with contracting and expanding, and then the shift to italics at the end…..the life still carries on through another born to take that space. I like what you’ve done here!
Bad things are going to happen.
Your father will tell you he doesn’t
love you and you will pay the diner bill
over and over wondering if loving is genetic.
Someone will say you aren’t a good
teacher in an anonymous survey then
send you an email asking what to do
with students after a school shooting.
Of course, the answer is poetry.
Your husband will make you keep
quiet the crash that killed his brother
last Tuesday while he rapes the lawn
of all the weeds in grief as you watch.
And then you will end this poem here
because some bad is too much for another
example. So you are grateful for Kim’s
stanza, giving you permission to
wrap yourself in a blanket until he
comes home from work because you know
that loving is a choice and you know
that you will invite him into
the blanket to grieve in your arms
tonight (because the lawn has taken
enough of the pain).
“Of course, the answer is poetry.” THIS. (This, absolutely, should be on t-shirts and mugs and posters and billboards and all the rest.) I love so much about this poem, Sarah. Much more than I can successfully (or artfully) articulate at the moment. Thank you for letting us bear witness to it.
Sarah…so profound, the poetry, the pain…and the healing found in wrapping ourselves in the words of others so we can offer love in a blanket. Your verse sears, slices, and soothes. Just profound – I cannot even think of another word for it.
This is so raw and I am in tears; yes, yes, poetry is the answer. May you find that sweet blanket and wrap yourselves within.
Sarah,
“the answer of course is poetry.” Is there anything else to say about the best way to deal w/ life’s pain. I am grateful for the blanket that is poetry, and I am so sorry about your husband’s brother. “rape the lawn” is something I think Ken does to hide his grief. Peace to you, friend.
Sarah, I’m so sorry for the loss of your husband’s brother. Grief is a strange presence – the insane pain, the numbness, and the upside-down-ness of the world when it can’t be understood for a time. Especially when it is someone close, and we witness the pain of one we love. I hope the blanket is a cocoon from the world where the two of you can just wrap up and breathe and be. Hugs and prayers!
Sarah, others have expressed their condolences for the loss of your brother-in-law and I join them. While we understand the grief, we also understand the sustaining power of a spouse with whom you can shelter in a blanket. Often the love of God is expressed tactically as well as verbally
Little did you know when you set up this writing OPEN WRITE platform, that so many of us would find shelter in our poems, knowing that under the cover of poetic devices others will join us when they can.
Thank you and do let the love you share with your husband be the shelter you both need right now.
Prayers going up on your behalf!
Sarah,
It is tender the way you cover love in the invitation to your husband to grieve with you. It is reinforced by the literal and figurative presence of the blanket. I love the one line seeing poetry as the remedy.
Sarah, I am so sorry for your and your husband’s loss. Your poem breathes out so much pain today. I hope that indeed
“you will invite him into
the blanket to grieve in your arms
tonight. ” I especially appreciate the note in parenthesis that shows insurmountable measure of grief. Hugs, Leilya.
Sarah, I have been thinking of your brother-in-law all day. I read your poem earlier today, and now I’m back to read it again and hope that you and your husband are grieving and holding each other tonight. This poem is so so heart wrenching and beautiful.
Shelley, thank you for this prompt. It is perfectly timed as I seek to soak up the relaxation spring break provides.
Relax
River flowing slowly, silverly
Egret perched on sandbar
Lambent glow of sun
Air in and air out
Xing into a thin space
Katrina, enjoy that spring break goodness! “slowly, silverly” is beautiful. Your acrostic makes me breathe deeply and relax myself, even without the river.
Your poem brings me “relax” in such an economy of words, Katrina. “slowly, silverly” and “Xing into.”
Sarah
Hi Katrina, I love this! You have painted a beautiful picture with your words ~ slowly, sliverly, perfection!
Katrina – I feel the breathing of this beautiful poem of presence. I adore acrostics! Every image is gorgeous and “Xing into a thin space” comes so smoothly that at first I didn’t even realize this IS an acrostic.
Katrina,
I like the addition of the silverly, as it gives me the sunlight reflecting before it gets mentioned. I feel as if I am reclined, and watching the scene…I am guessing it is also warm. : )
Oh! I am relaxed by reading this. I love the river flowing, the color and the egret perched. Beautifully serene.
I’m with everyone, Katrina, I love the word “silverly” here! And thank you for introducing me to “lambent,” too. (And I hope you “soak up” as much “relaxation” on spring break as you can. Mine starts next week!)
Shelley, wow Ellen Bass’s poem is extraordinary. I especially like the son who emptied the refrigerator, not metaphorically but literally to sell for drug money. It was so powerful. Your poem too was a great mentor. I love the “Then one day…” it is so hopeful and fresh, after you just mentioned “and you hope.” Yes, indeed. There is always hope. My poem went a different place today, as I feel a bit stuck after a lifetime of not relaxing, now retirement is making me realize I need more.
Relax
Bad things are going to happen.
You won’t get Wordle in six guesses.
You’ll accidentally put light mayo
On the Reuben sandwiches they
won’t get crisp on the griddle.
You’ll have to wait three months to take
delivery of your custom-built closet.
And then when you go to write
a poem about the bad things,
you will remember your life right
now is nothing if not relaxing.
So, you’ll spend time thinking
about those who aren’t able to
relax
due
to
war
hunger
poverty
child labor
lack of housing
human trafficking
climate disruption
And you wonder when you will
do more than think about them.
Whoa, Denise. I did not see this unraveling of the poem coming until the list started, and I my eyes traveled down the bad things that truly are bad and life-ending. That last line is a call to action, and maybe rhetorical in the way that I don’t know what counts as more and what moves will bring about change. I will, of course, do more wondering and hope it brings me to “more.” But, perhaps your poem today has worked as the “more than” after all.
Sarah
Wow, Denise. I started off reading your poem with a giggle when I read your Wordle reference, but as I continued to read, your words really hit a target in my heart and all I can really say is wow! Things don’t quite seem so bad when put in the context of your poem. Thank you!
Denise, I so appreciate this poem of your current perspective…the little frustrations (I do love a good Wordle!). Then the segue into thinking about those who aren’t able to relax…with a call to action. You keep us mindful of both beauty and pain in this world, with encouragement vs. provocation to DO something about this eye-catching, building syllabic pyramid of pain. Again – you take our blinders off. So, so powerful.
Denise,
First world problems vs. real world problems is how I read your poem. I know you do more than think about those who suffer from war and famine and all the other things that are unsolvable by one person. That’s what makes you an amazing human
Denise, wow! Yes to this:
You won’t get Wordle in six guesses.
Because THAT is a bad day…..
and then you bring a slice of perspective
that makes me realize
it is actually a good day, globally speaking.
Denise, your second to the last stanza captures the challenge of retirement! We each think life will be great when we don’t have to get up at 5:50 in order to be at school by 7:30 because of traffic! When we don’t have two-day due dates for reports that take two weeks.
Please rest assured that your empathy will help you refocus your talent and time to continue to support families, especially with students, who fit that list of issues in the stanza below. Remember, to stay in touch here and keep writing poetry, too.
So, you’ll spend time thinking
about those who aren’t able to
relax
due
to
war
hunger
poverty
child labor
lack of housing
human trafficking
climate disruption
Oh, Ffs
Christ, Ellen, you went ham
on this theme didn’t you,
doubled down, threw caution
to the wind and pulled out
all the stops,
in fact, there were no stops,
you ramped up with the
dead cat thing right from
line three, went full steam
ahead from there,
right over the cliff
Thelma & Louise style
over the precipice
(although in your version
it would have just been
Thelma OR Louise,
you wouldn’t have allowed
them the fellowship
at the end,
just some
roadside
strawberries
(that were
probably
a bit mushy
anyways)
to munch
on the
way
down)
It’s just–
I get it
bad stuff happens
we are food for worms,
in a hundred years
all new people,
the wheel keeps a turnin’
Life is transient
(illusory at best)
yadda yadda yadda
but, come on
come ON
Did you learn your
bedside manner
from Gregory House
or worse
are you one of those,
Well, it coulda been
worse people?
Cat died,
Parents died
Spouse is a cheat
Child is a drug addict
Your fav sweater is ruined
You seem sad
maybe a bit depressed
Have you tried feeling better?
I know,
just
relax,
that’ll
help.
_________________________________________________________
Shelley, thank you for your poem and your prompt today and for the opportunity to “vent” (?) this morning! I found myself pushing back against Bass’s sentiment a bit 🙂 – tongue firmly planted in cheek, though – because recently family members and even family members of dear colleagues are currently battling (and some are losing or have lost) health issues resulting from age and disease and whatnot….and it’s a hard sell, for me, at least at the moment, to shrug the shoulders and say, you know what, “bad things happen.” And also, lol, it might be that I’m finishing Hamlet with two of my classes just now, and there’s that moment early on when Claudius tells Hamlet to, essentially, “get over” the death of his father. Hey, it’s been two months, what are you doin’? The “common theme” of nature is the “death of fathers.”….Yikes. True, though it may be, it doesn’t really “help” Hamlet at the moment.
Oh my, I’m laughing at your whole tone here, this conversational response to the poem and your hilarious take on the way you just yadda yadda yadda and remind us about being food for worms. So funny. So, so funny.
Oh, Scott, I like what you did here. The fact that Bass would have let Thelma and Louise wouldn’t even have had the fellowship at the end and both die together made me laugh aloud. You are a master, Scott!
I needed to read it after I just posted my poem. I wish I could use some of your tongue-in-cheek push back to Bass’s poem. I believe I may need to find a balance, but I do also feel a need to become an activist in my retirement. Hmm…
Scott, your poem would make a great example for a prompt challenging us to get over ourselves. The Gregory House example is perfect.
Scott, Scott, Scott… your commentaries are prose poems of their own and I love them as much as your verse, in which you have every right to vent/push back against the sentimentality. After all… poetry hits us where we are. Your unfailing wit and style have me appreciating and laughing as always, even to commiserating about the strawberries “that were probably a bit mushy anyways”… oh, that reference to House and that zinger at the end – “relax, that’ll help”-!!! In truth – I couldn’t go with “relax” myself when thinking of my ‘bad things’ (I normally don’t dwell on those, just sayin’; life is too daily for it) and went more with a perseverance kind of thing (I hope). OH – as for Hamlet: My last English paper in high school was on the function of King Claudius in Hamlet, and…yeah. I confess to fully understanding the common theme of nature being “the death of fathers.” I’m not “over it,” even though it happened 22 years ago. I am seeing you and your family and your colleagues and the battles, some already lost, in the light of your words and in the shadows behind them – strength to you all.
Scott,
I so appreciate the intertextuality of this poem from the prompt, inspiration, mentor poem, Hamlet and then, of course, your life. All finding space in these lines and living in the margins, too. So sorry for all the pain your family and colleagues are feeling. There is bad all around us, and maybe there is some comfort in naming it and saying it. And that “get over it” is all around us, too. Maybe I am reading into it, but it is okay to not be okay. It is okay to be angry at the bad. I see you letting the poem carry that for now.
Peace,
Sarah
Shelley, This is just the right prompt to tie up our time together reading, reflecting, writing and responding to the poems of our pals, here on OPEN WRITE. Many of the poems raise memories of good times; others bad times, but always times to reconsider who we are and why we do what we do as persons of compassion and educators who compel our students to write with confidence that what they write will be considered thoughtfully as their truth!
Wonder, Not Worry
Bad things will happen. That’s life.
But we don’t have to give in to the strife.
Have faith in our Creator,
Whatever you call Him or Her.
Faith will help you deal with whatever is sure to occur.
For me, that means faith in God
For others, it may be Allah, Adonai,Agni or Shaddai.
Whatever the name, this Power will help you avoid shame
When others accuse and blame.
Have faith in God as you travel this sod.
And when the inevitable happens, you’ll just nod.
With faith, you move on, relaxing and wondering,
Wondering not worrying
Why bad things happen in life …
Even to good people like you, your husband or wife.
Anna, what a beautiful poem and image about the the power of faith in God to see you through anything and all things. This I believe. I treasure your words and the vital reminder that worrying doesn’t do us any good, that we can overcome others who “accuse and blame,” and the bad things that happen to good people because there’s so much brokenness in the world. We do well to remember we are here to help, not harm one another, and that writing can bring healing. Thank you for this today.
Anna, faith in God is what helps me navigate this life too. Your idea of “relaxing and wondering…not worrying” reminds me of the last line of Margaret’s poem today.
Anna, yes. I think of Job and all he endured. And still, he had unshakable faith. That is the way – – faith.
Thanks. I love this prompt for how it allows you to spill out the bad things and come around to a realization of why we are here. I love your story about a student. It’s the little things we do that make them ok.
Bad things are going to happen.
You will leave the milk out;
It will sour.
Bad things that leave you helpless.
A newborn cannot breathe on his own.
You will pray.
Bad things are inevitable.
Some doctor will miss something important.
You will suffer.
Bad things stop us in our tracks.
A squirrel will eat the coolant hose again.
You will be stuck.
But one evening when you’re bone tired,
you will watch a video of your granddaughter.
You will laugh until you cry.
Let it all come. You are living a life.
Margaret, I just love those words, “let it all come.” There’s a letting go in them. A relief. The relaxing the prompt aimed us toward, but in an I’ve got this way. It is in the living of life that we can learn to let it all come as we become stronger, more wise, more able to deal with what life throws at us. So much to provoke thought here.
Margaret, this form works so beautifully. We move from irritation (you left the milk out; it’s your fault it soured) to fear (that baby cannot breathe on his own and you can’t help him) to the terrible idea that suffering might have been avoided if the doctor had only paid closer attention(what do we pay him for??) back to irritation (wasn’t expecting that squirrel!) It is all life…and you know I am laughing and crying right alongside you at that video of the granddaughter. Those last lines… they may be my own mantra from now on. They are magnificent.
Margaret,
The third lines of each stanza are so great. That last line is wisdom.
“let it all come” is a powerful and good affirmation.
Oh, Margaret. Such wisdom throughout and so succinct in the final line. Indeed, we “are living a life” here, and that is it. A life. Not a particular life or one that has shoulds and oughts. It is. So appreciate how you name it all here so beautifully.
Sarah
Margaret, I loved the structure of your stanzas and that final line in each!
Shelley, the richness of Ellen’s poem and yours this morning offered endless possibilities in where my poem would go this morning. The route was long and circuitous, but well-worth the traveling, as they often are. Thank you for sharing this prompt today.
Bad things are going to happen,
that inner voice will say.
She’s a glass half-empty kind of gal.
She knows that the job will go to someone else
while she chirps in your ear
that you’re not good enough.
She knows the friend you opened up to
will share your secrets
because she heard her tell one first.
Bad things are going to happen.
You’ll spend too much money on shoes
only to have a freak accident ruin them
the next day.
You’ll break your shoulder,
dent your car,
lose your wallet,
your concert tickets, one glove,
your presentation notes
your husband, your grocery list,
your best dog, your way.
You’ll lose your favorite person in the entire world,
the one who made you feel you were most importantest,
the bestest, the most specialest grandchild, first born,
the one whose voice you will hear
pouring into that half-filled glass,
urging you to raise it high
and take a long, deep swig.
Jennifer — This is beautiful… the it’s gonna happen crapola is priceless and waaaay too real… all that give the “swig” at the end a giant breath of ease and wonder. You glass is FULL to the brim of your brilliant poetry writing, your unparalleled crafting of words into moments that make me smile, pause, and relax EVERY SINGLE TIME. Just love your poem. Hugs, Susie
Oh, the destructive nature of that inner critic, and the betrayal of friends… who among us has not experienced these knife-points? Ack – the shoes – that too. The losses build from this point on…I read your list with wry commiseration (car dent, one glove, grocery list, presentation notes, dagnabbit all) mingled with sharp pangs – the husband, your best dog, your way. Deep loss. Hard overcomings… and then….I almost can’t say it, Jennifer. The grandchild. With all those superlatives, like baby talk, and that voice urging you to raise the glass, to keep drinking life. I am undone. I raise my glass to you, friend, in admiration, awe, and love.
Jennifer, this got me right here:
You’ll break your shoulder,
dent your car,
lose your wallet,
your concert tickets, one glove,
your presentation notes
your husband, your grocery list,
your best dog, your way.
Your way.
Yes, we do lose our way from time to time, and I’m finding that despite all the things I’m reading today that would cause worry, it’s actually helping me relax. I guess I realize I’m not the only one, and that these things are inevitable. Beyond my control.
Jennifer, wow. You have tweaked this prompt to say so much beauty about you and life. From the inner critic to that list of losses. And then the grandparent love at the end, “urging you to raise it high / and take a long, deep swig.” Precious. Yes, here’s to this life.
Jennifer,
Your poem is a long, deep swig of life. The whispers hit me hard, the losses along the way named specifically and yet space for use to fill in what we lost, too, the future bads that will come our way and allow us to be half-filled or half-empty, whichever we need. And I will take another swig. I hear that swigs and gulps help us catch our breath anyway.
Hugs,
Sarah
Jennifer, I loved the wisdom in this and the positive and uplifting ending. Being a “glass half full” type, it resonated with me!
This is a great poem to meet the prompt. your list of bad things to happen are things that happen to most of us and it is best to raise that glass high. Thanks!
What gorgeous mentor texts, Shelley, both Ellen’s and yours. This is an incredibly inspiring prompt, inviting us to examine our perspectives, to dig deep, to tap into untold wellsprings of courage, gratitude, and even joy in overcoming or enduring the bad things that will, and do, happen. You had me taking a deep breath, too, at the end of your verse, rejoicing over that student and those affirming words…thank you for your amazing poem and this vital reminder to “relax.”
Carrying On
Bad things are going to happen.
Your husband will break the handle
off your favorite coffee mug,
(the one with Shakespeare’s signature
that you’ve had since your first year
of college). Your young son will lose
the basketball pendant that belonged
to his grandfather in the 1930s.
It will never be found. Your car dashboard
will burst into flames midway through
a long trip and you will discover
there’s not enough Dr. Pepper
in that bottle you’re holding
to douse them. People will disappoint you
and confuse you with their chameleon loyalties
—“fickle,” your mother will tell you,
when you are still a child.
And the time will come when you no longer
have a relationship with your mother.
You’ll learn, to your astonishment, that your
father is the family glue and everything will
fall apart when he dies. The baby finches
in the nest on your front door wreath
—so perfect, so wondrous—will all die
without warning. You’ll find all five
with their yellow beaks frozen open to the sky,
their tiny bodies quivering with maggots.
Your husband will be diagnosed with
the beginning of ocular melanoma.
He will sacrifice his left eye in order to stay alive.
Then, one Sunday afternoon,
he’ll go into cardiac arrest
while driving home from the gym.
He’ll be resuscitated. He’ll endure two surgeries.
When he’s over all that, it will be time for
his spinal fusion. He will depend on you
more and more…you’ll break your left foot twice
and still keep pace with the days as they unfold…
for the days become years
and the years will bring you
two little granddaughters.
This, this will be the richest time
of your entire existence,
as rich as the red on the breast of
the reddest male finch you’ve ever seen,
singing so beautifully there on your porch
that your heart will be filled to bursting with the sound
of life, carrying on.
Fran, I’ve watched through your writing all of these bad things and your amazing perseverance. They make us stronger. Strong enough to be the best grandparent ever. I love how you turn to nature for God’s beauty to remind you life is worth it all.
Fran, I get the distinct truth that “joy comes in the morning” –on the wings of a finch! This part resonated strongly with me:
People will disappoint you
and confuse you with their chameleon loyalties
Oh, friend – – the absence of relationship, the glue that dies, the falling apart of things. Your poem speaks of true life. This is beautiful!
Phew! So much truth in our not knowing what others are carrying. Each bad thing tugged at me, piling one upon the next until they felt uncarryable, and yet each was beautifully written, drawing me in. It’s in the ending where your words sing most. You build upon the rich, rich red, taking something so simple and saturating it within our minds and hearts while making all the unbearable suddenly bearable with those two little granddaughters. So, so extraordinary.
Oh, Fran, my this is just as beautiful as could be. You wrap up this prompt and put a bow on it. This experience fits perfectly into the poem you have created here “you’ll break your left foot twice / and still keep pace with the days as they unfold…” And that ending! The two granddaughters and that rich red of the finch. “the sound / of life, carrying on.” Wow. Poetry at its finest.
Fran,
What a journey! Woman, we hear your roar! I’m not a fan of birds, but I was very happy at the end of your poem because I felt the joy the red male finch brought you.
💛
Fran, this was just gorgeous and riveting. And sometimes I feel like we’re living kind of parallel lives:
“And the time will come when you no longer
have a relationship with your mother.
You’ll learn, to your astonishment, that your
father is the family glue and everything will
fall apart when he dies. “
I get it.
I also just loved this, even while it broke my heart:
“The baby finches
in the nest on your front door wreath
—so perfect, so wondrous—will all die
without warning. You’ll find all five
with their yellow beaks frozen open to the sky,
their tiny bodies quivering with maggots.”
What an amazing poem.
Fran, your craft and insight and humanness is just so awesome, literally awe inspiring. I don’t know how you can consistently produce such profound and peerless poetry that is both prescient and prone to a propensity to perfection….ok, I’ll stop there before it gets too silly (I mean, the website claimed there were 460 words that started with “p” so I could keep going, but I fear each new word would only prevail in a rather unpropitious…ok, enough!) What I’m trying to say is that your offerings in general and this one in particular (there’s another one!) is rather affecting. There was a tightness that built through the baby finches — “their tiny bodies quivering” — through the trials of your husband and what you’ve both had to “endure” and a swelling in my chest, an openness, as your poem concluded, right as you wrote “singing so beautifully there on your porch / that your heart will be filled to bursting with the sound”! I’m not sure how you do it, but, please don’t stop: keep “carrying on.”
Fran, I am just speechless. This poem is beautiful. Your words are powerful and so full of meaning and feeling. There are parts of this that resonate so closely with my life, and parts that are far away, but I just think this is like the words you used to describe the finches “So perfect so wondrous” Thank you!
Shelley, I love that you encourage us to keep it all in perspective today – to relax and accept that life will happen. Your poem brings it all to light – – the dogs dying wring my heart. I am driving some colleagues to a conference today, and nothing is right with the world this morning, so I’m not thinking big picture – – just small bubble. And even that’s not right today. Thanks for encouraging us to relax and take it in stride.
Frumpy
Relax – no one cares
whether your pants match your shirt
or that they’re wrinkled
Relax – no one cares
that the tops of your feet are
white as unbaked bread
Relax – no one sees
you picking at your fingers
of chipped nail polish
Relax – no one knows
your Odor Eaters are now
expired by three months
Relax – just because
you forgot to tweeze your lip
doesn’t mean don’t go
After all: you’re the
driver….others are counting
on you to get there
Relax – your oil got
changed, your gas tank’s full and your
car is vacuumed out
Relax – your riders
might find your car is cleaner
than theirs (not driven)
Relax – wait, is that
…..is that a seam coming out?
It’s right on the butt
Nope, don’t relax. Go
change pants. Nothing clean? That’s what
long sweaters are for.
Heck, grab a blanket
and wrap up like a student
…..relax for a change!
Kim, I applaud every haiku syllable here, every line of wisdom. Oh, to be free of our anxieties about our imperfections – tops of feet as white as unbaked bread, expired Odor Eaters, forgetting to tweeze your lip – honestly, these truths ARE perfect for reminding us of the insignificant things we get hung up on. The minutiae that keep us from fully being who we are, and all that we can be…as always, Kim, you triumph in verse and gently, humorously encourage us to do the same.
Kim — I’m laughing at the thinking bubbling above these funny images. Been there…that’s for sure. I loved your structure in this poem…the short bursts of REAL images, the repetition that cranks each stanza like a pulse sort of. The “long sweaters”…ahahahahaha… exactly. Really loved this on this chilly morning. Now I’m off to walk Rayo and then to go paint. HUGS, Susie
Kim, breaking the relax situations into several small stanzas makes it become like a mantra, one ever so necessary and oh so relatable! I have reached the point in my life where I just don’t give much of a dang anymore. My dog reminds me on the daily that we should just be. And love those around us. Life would be so much better!
Kim, so funny! I love what you did there. So much freedom and ability to relax. And then the turning point of “Nope, don’t relax.” But within one haiku a “Heck…relax for a change!” Perfect!
Oh, Kim. I needed every line here. The reminders are so key that I will accept your poem today as permission to grab a blanket and wrap up today.
Hugs,
Sarah
Oh how I love this because it affirms the freedom of being mature and carefree! Grab that blanket and relax!
it’s spirit week dress up days at my school. Today was dress to impress. I refused. I wore what I always wear. 😂😂😂
Kim, I loved the positivity and sense of perspective in this: it’s all small stuff, right? (Well, maybe most of it.)
Kim – I feel all of these words down to my soul and your final words really resonate with me – relax for a change. Why oh why is it so hard to relax? Thanks for the reminder to quit worrying about what everyone else thinks.