Day 4, February’s Open Write with Rachelle Lipp
Though I am still new to the gig of teaching (I’m currently in year five), I have had experiences in myriad schools. Growing up, I attended a small, Catholic school in the northwest corner of Iowa. Upon graduation, I attend a public university, The University of Northern Iowa. Before too long I found myself completing my student teaching requirements abroad at Singapore American School. I was convinced my calling was to teach internationally after that; however, once I got back home to Iowa, it felt like there were weights attached to my feet. After a summer of introspection and reverse culture shock, I found a gig at Atlantic High School and met one of my teaching role models–Allison Berryhill. The transition from elite international school to rural public school was not easy. While teaching itself is not easy, especially the first years, Allison–with her accordion and iron–made it merrier. Because of her help I soon felt more confident in my teaching practices (and myself). After two years at AHS, I drove. And I didn’t stop until I met the ocean. I currently teach English 11 and Creative Writing in an urban school in Salem, Oregon. Here, we have been online since March 13, 2020, and are slowly beginning to reopen school doors to our eager 2,000+ high school students. Please write with me!
Inspiration
My school district recently had spoken word poet Brandon Leake give a motivational speech to students (and teachers!). Leake, the winner of America’s Got Talent, shared his poem called Steps To Being Brandon Leake to introduce himself. I immediately began thinking about what I would say using this format of poem and then I thought of you all. I want to know what you would say!
Here’s a link to Brandon Leake’s poem Steps to Being Brandon Leake. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waMBTIGYe-A
If you don’t have time to watch the 4 minute video, take a moment to read the beginning and end of the poem transcribed below so you can get an idea of the tone and prompt.
Steps To Being Brandon Leake
One: You gotta first be named Brandon Leake.
Two: Be born on May 4th, 1992 with an extremely large head, sorry about that, Mom.
Three: Be born to a mother who got a heart of gold and just pray she got the Midas touch.
Four: Be born and raised in Southside Stockton in a cave full of hard rocks that when pressed become jems.
Five: Be born with brown skin. This excessive amount of melanin will truly dictate much of your future. Be sure to remember these steps.
Six: Be born with all of your limbs. And then remove one. My fault? No. Remove Father. No surprises here, refer back to step five.
[…]
Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four, twenty five.
There’s no more steps, but tons of questions like,
Who is Brandon Leake anyways?
Process: Steps to Being You
If you watched the video, you noticed that as Brandon Leake gets deeper into the steps, he begins confusing the audience with reference to previous numbers and then jets forward to continue the progression. In the final steps he presents, he shows vulnerability by describing grief he has experienced with the deaths of close family like his sister and his brother.
When I have my creative writing students do this, I’ll encourage them to keep the bookends the same as Leake’s poem, but filling in their own names.
For you all, I encourage you to do whatever you want. This poem is spoken word, so there isn’t form to the official piece (I transcribed from the video). So, you can make this poem unique to you by adding structure. Are you in the mood for haikus today? A sonnet? Or a wacky rhyme scheme? What would be most indicative of you as a form of poetry? Not in the mood for something serious? Switch up the tone!
As for brainstorming, if you’ve written a Where I’m From poem that could help spark some ideas. Otherwise, think about the basics like what you’d tell people about yourself at a dinner party. Then, what you might tell a close friend. Then, something about you that only a few people know. Consider writing about any obstacles you have overcome–those certainly have had a role to play in the “steps” to becoming you.
Leake presented 20ish steps–you can choose how many you want to do. Perhaps set a timer for 20 minutes and let that dictate the amount of steps 🙂 We’re busy people!
Most importantly, have fun with this. If this prompt is not jiving with you today, write about something else. That’s totally fine with me!
Note: As this is a public space, it is always important to consider audience. There is no “requirement” for using your first and last name here. First names are fine, a nickname, perhaps — whatever you wish.
My Poem
Steps to Being Rachelle Lipp
One: You first have to be named Rachelle–
Not Rachel, Raquel, Rochelle and not Michelle.
Two: Emerge the same year the dinosaurs dominated Jurassic Park;
I’m as old as the t-rex. That’s a nice flex.
Three: Be born to an omnipresent mother and an ever-absent father.
Four: Be a good big sister and be a role model and never, ever mess up and get straight As and join clubs and be the star of the play and the captain of the cheer squad and go to college and get scholarships and get a good job and and and–
Self-apply plenty of pressure. Beware. You may implode.
Five: Mess up. Make the mistakes you thought you could not afford; those lessons are what you take to the bank. Remember step four? You deserve so much more.
Six: Be a teacher. Create space for creators to chase fate. To make mistakes.
Now that I’ve been writing, I’ve got more questions than answers today, like,
Who is Rachelle Lipp, anyway?
Your Turn to Write & Respond
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. See the image for commenting with care. 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.
Complete transparency. I wrote way too late in the evening (7:20 is late for me) and know it needs revisions, but that’s what’s fun about our community here. No one judges. Here’s my draft!
Eleven Steps to Being Stacey
1: You will surprise your parents and not be Patrick Johnson, male. You will be a fat 9 pounds 7 ounces of female named Stacey Johnson.
2: November 11 is a special day for Veteran’s but you’ll claim it for your own because 11/11 is magical and powerful.
3: Your broken family of 4 becomes a family of 3 because your parents hadn’t planned you.
4: Winston, the odd introvert who is a classical pianist, will marry your mother and then you’ll be back to four.
5: Talk back, get spanked, talk back some more.
6. Play school and teach those white Barbies that black teachers rule.
7. When you decide to go to college, you won’t know any better and you’ll only apply to U.C.L.A. Blame that on your college counselors who didn’t actually counsel.
8. You’ll meet a really cute guy at a pool party and declare he’s your future husband.
9. You’ll marry that really cute guy you met at the pool party and realize that’s never how honest marriages start.
10. The really cute guy you met at the pool party will get 29 years of marriage without being faithful or kind, but you’ll give him some scars to take with him and you’ll keep your Joy.
11. You will give your son and daughter your best and pray for God to handle the rest. The end!
12. Because 11-11 represents you, this poem can’t end on 12 so don’t stop here.
©Stacey L. Joy, February 16, 2021 roughrough draft
Gee whiz, Stacey, I always love knowing you just a little bit better through every poem. I love the 11/11 (I’m a day ahead of you…I’m 11/10 … 🙂 I know it’s really tough to crank out a “late” poem… I’m exhausted myself right now, but I’m really glad you made it to print! Yea! So glad you’re here. Susie
Thank you for modeling real poetry and that it’s a process. Thank you for sharing your story, Stacey. I feel lucky to have seen life from your perspective for a few stanzas. Also, I hope step 6 makes it into the final draft!
Stacey,
I love that you and Susie are November babies w/ me. I’m the 19th, the anniversary of the Gettysburg Address. Number 5 is my favorite. Here’s to girls talking back. XO, my friend.
This one kind of took on a life of it’s own. I also enjoyed the Brandon Leake presentation in our district, Rachelle, thank you for taking it a step further.
“Steps to being Cara”
One: You must be named Cara, after Kara Kennedy, daughter of RFK, but not with a K, that’s too harsh.
Two: Be born in May, on the 16th–the third Taurus in the family, and though not a believer in astrology, the stubbornness is definitely there.
Three: Have a mother who learned her strength the hard way and passed it on to you. Now, if only you could both be as good at taking care of yourselves as you are of others.
Four: Be born in Corvallis, Oregon because both of your parents were Oregon State Beavers.
Five: Be in your mother’s womb when she does her student teaching — see? You’ve been a teacher ALL your life.
Six: Have a father who feels monogamy isn’t natural, and finally leaves when you’re seven.
Seven: Be the younger sister, but still, feel compelled to never be a problem since your older sibling will take many years to find a comfortable identity.
Eight: Be spectacularly bad at choosing men — each one a version of selfishness you thought you could fix. Breaking news: you can’t change those who only want to use you.
Nine: Because of one of these men, move from Sacramento, California to Albany, New York, claim true love and independence, but ignore the flashing red lights.
Ten: Learn that your husband won’t tolerate you doing anything for you — like schoolwork — when he has other plans.
Eleven: Move to Salem, Oregon after six years to finally be on the same coast as your family.
Twelve: After substitute teaching for three years in middle schools, get hired to teach juniors and seniors in high school. Love it. Love them. Wonder how you ever considered anything else.
Thirteen: Have a son — beautiful, perfect — but learn your husband is a distant father who expects you to do everything and still take care of him.
Fourteen: Have another son — with a relatively severe birth defect — still beautiful, perfect, and strong.
Fifteen: Finally, after 21 years of marriage, find the strength to leave. Remember, you are the Devil for leaving, nothing is his fault.
Sixteen: Find strength you forgot you had in the barrage of gaslighting, controlling, badgering, and bullying. Your sons will see their mother’s strength and learn to be fine men who scream at men in movies who mistreat women.
Seventeen: Buy a house — alone. Get a dog — a Goldendoodle. Become a better teacher for having stood up for yourself. Never look back.
Still counting.
Cara!! This poem is strength. Ever since I met you, I knew you were strong. It makes sense. I hope you see yourself as strong as you are. I’m glad to know you, and I’m glad to be able to perfectly picture step 12. Also, I’ll have to admit, step 5 did make me chuckle! Thank you for sharing—now go cuddle your dog! ❤️
What a journey of emotions I felt in reading this. I laughed at Four and Five, but by Six, I was predicting this was not going to be continue to make me laugh. Eight and Nine and Ten – woofty. Those are some heavy heavy hindsights to both come to realize as well as share in a way which undoubtedly many can connect. This is a poem that seems so personal, but it really is about highlighting ways in which we can connect, either through sympathy or empathy. I hate Fifteen, but that’s the social message, right? Sixteen brings healing and a sense of hope. By Seventeen, I am smiling again – not laughing – but a consoled and hopeful smile. “Still counting.” What could be more hopeful than that?!
Oh, Rachelle, for the past 30 minutes as I wrote my poem, I scanned across 60 years of my life. I need to do this more often. This is a fabulous prompt. I will use it with my students. This mess of a poem is so personal to me, I actually don’t care if it touches anyone else. I needed to write it. THANK YOU.
20 Steps to Being Allison Berryhill
1) Find a name with dactylic rhythm.
2) Contort this person to fit between four sandwiched siblings, where she will seek out unclaimed crannies of identity.
3) Try too loud, too bossy, too much. Then add another scoop.
4) Hide important parts of self. (See step 11.)
5) Explode.
6) Find her scattered across an Iowa cornfield July 4, 1976.
7) Implode.
8) Grind her teeth until the jaw is set afire.
9) Teach her to sew, with thread, and then with words.
10) Stitch the pieces into something whole-ish.
11) Seek out those hidden selves and
12) Patch them in.
13) Burst into a classroom where too loud, too bossy, and too much somehow work to an advantage.
14) Add a counterweight, a husband, to hold steady this chaotic, half-human, half-hyena.
15) And–why not?–add six kids.
16) Spin in circles, dig deep.
17) Repeat steps 10 through 16, omitting step 15.
18) Get cancer to gain perspective on all the rest.
19) Keep stitching.
20) Write poems.
Allison, your poem is deeply moving! I love the clear details to show not only your experiences, but also your personality. I love line 13: “where too loud, too bossy, and too much somehow work to an advantage” Yes! I can relate! Plus, I would think a bit important when raising six children. The sewing extended metaphor works so well to tie all of the pieces that make up the tapestry of Allison! Your final line is such a perfect close! Yes, keep writing poems! You have an audience who need you! Thanks for sharing such important pieces of your fabric today! I loved it! Thanks, Barb
Thank you, friend, for hearing me.
Allison, this is so visceral and moving! I love the steps that recur and repeat and the brevity of the items. I’m particularly fond of “Grind her teeth until the jaw is set afire” and “And–why not?–add six kids” because they just feel SO honest. Teachers who have been teaching a long time are all the better for the travails we have survived. Thank you for sharing yours.
I LOVED reading this because I can hear you through it, and I especially loved your author’s note at the beginning. It reminded me of this quote by Kurt Vonnegut, “Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.” Today you wrote to one person, and that was yourself which makes it all the more interesting to me 🙂
Allison– I’m always taken when I think about all the kids…all your sibs and all your own kids…wow! You are a force. I really felt the “seek out unclaimed crannies of identity” … I’m in a big family too (sibs, cousins). The stitching of these years is such an apt threading…it brings the cohesiveness of that identity, the Allison Berryhill. Your 5-8 are pretty darn tough, and I feel for these harder times. I still am amazed at your capacity to crank out something so moving in such a fast splash of 30 minutes. Wow. Some days I just mull around and write nothing for quite awhile before I finally face the page…then bam, some scribble turns into a seemingly feasible idea. And sometimes not. You are a heck of a poet! Hugs, Susie
Steps To Being Donnetta Norris
One: You first have to be named Donnetta Norris.
Two: Be born January 12, 1971 into uncertainty; before Big Mama told ’em how it’s gon be.
Three: Grow up not knowing your father while everyone else does, and they don’t ever miss an opportunity to tell you how much ‘you look just like yo daddy’.
Four: Make the mistakes a fatherless child makes
Five: Be the first grand to go to college; get married, then divorced, then married again
Six: Teach – Read – Write: Giving all I am to impact the lives of my Scholars.
Now that I’ve been writing, I’ve got more questions than answers today, like,
Who is Donnetta Norris, anyway?
Donneta, I have been loving your poems for several months now. (We both tend to write at the end of the day.) But this poem brought me close to you, showed such a personal side that I now feel I know you on a personal level. THANK you. And thanks to Rachelle Lipp to offering us this writing opportunity to reveal ourselves a bit. <3
Donnetta, I can really hear your voice in this poem! I can only begin to imagine how the comments about your father must have been conflicting. I love how you share your passion to teach others, and how you close with “I’ve got more questions than answers today”….loved it! Thanks for this insight! Barb
Thank you for sharing YOUR story. I loved getting to see life through your eyes, if only for six steps. Today, our steps cross and I’m grateful. Thank you!
Steps to Being Me
One: You have to be born Crystal Martinez
No middle name, because your mom hated having one
Two: Learn English and Spanish simultaneously
Learn from your parents, your cousins, your TV
Three: Teach yourself to read, because your favorite cousin’s a year older than you and she can do it already
Four: Experience a drive by shooting at the park and develop anxiety — don’t forget this step, it plays a big role later on
Five: Find out your mom is pregnant and worry that your parents will forget all about you when the baby is born
Six: Meet your baby sister and instantly fall in love
Seven: Move to Las Vegas, miss your best friends, and become one of the very few students of color at your school (oh, and you’re poorer than them too)
Eight: Read, read, read and read — bury yourself in academics and challenge yourself
Nine: Go to a middle school where you don’t know a single person; be really shy so that an extroverted girl will come over to you and say hi. She’ll be your best friend for years
Ten: Surround yourself with a close group of friends. You may be shy, but they’ll help you break out of your shell
Eleven: Get a boyfriend who’s two years older and let him treat you like garbage
Twelve: Develop symptoms of OCD, but keep them really well-hidden and don’t mention them to anybody
Thirteen: Get dumped, cry, and move on
Fourteen: Get over your awkward stage (well, at least your VERY awkward stage) over the summer and catch the attention of your first high school crush
Fifteen: Date that boy (and keep dating him for the next 10 years until he proposes)
Sixteen: Work your butt off so you can get a scholarship
Seventeen: Stop caring so much was people think — have a drink, dance at the party, and sing out the car window even if you know you’ll never hit that high note
Eighteen: Share a room with your sister because your family is struggling financially
Nineteen: Become best friends with your sister. Stay up late, go to concerts, and sit around laughing until your parents say to go to bed
Twenty: Become the first person in your immediate family to graduate from college and get a full time job teaching, but stay at home because you can’t imagine moving away
Twenty-one: Get engaged (woo, step fifteen!) and try to feel like a real grown-up
Twenty-two: Get married and leave your family for two weeks to go on your honeymoon (have an amazing time, but cry when you visit them for the first time and realize your stuff has all been moved to your new place)
Twenty-three: Change your name so you are no longer Crystal Martinez (but.. maybe keep it as a middle name)
Twenty-four: Visit your family every week, laugh and binge-watch The Office with your new husband
Twenty-five: Plan vacations and have them be cancelled because of a global pandemic
Twenty-six: Let your anxiety slowly re-emerge in light of the pandemic and actually seek out help
Twenty-seven: Apply to a graduate program and write poems that make you think about your life
Twenty-eight?
Crystal, oh my gosh, there are so many things I love about your poem. I adore how you show where your anxieties stem, how shy and awkward you felt going to a school where you are the only person of color, which had to be incredibly awkward in itself. I love how you show your growth, the love you share with your husband, and the deep connection you have with your sister and family. My favorite line is step 23: “Change your name so you are no longer Crystal Martinez (but.. maybe keep it as a middle name) ” The perfect solution to not having a middle name. I gave up my maiden name, but I gave my youngest child that for his middle name. Thanks for sharing such a rich insight of who you are!
You did a great job writing this poem. I like how you left twenty-eight as a question.
Oh, Crystal Martinez, this was a joy to read. I felt like I was watching a high-light reel of your life. I loved so many lines!
“Learn English and Spanish simultaneously
Learn from your parents, your cousins, your TV ”
“Eleven: Get a boyfriend who’s two years older and let him treat you like garbage”
“write poems that make you think about your life ”
YES!
I am not joking when I say I’m CLAPPING. Thank you for taking us through your life and through your lens. I especially loved your use of parenthesis which is where I could really HEAR you. Keep writing poems, please.
Steps to Being Melissa
Step One
Be the middle child and the middle girl
Step Two
Very shy and quiet.
Step Three
Love the simple things in life
Step Four
Work hard
Step Five
Love all things Beautiful
Step Six
Appreciate the lessons life brings
Step Six
Be your own competition
Step Seven
Be the best version of yourself
Step Eight
Be a dreamer
Step Nine
Be a believer
Step Ten
Start back at step one
Melissa, I love all the steps that describe you. The details are clear, straight-forward, and beautiful! It’s always an effort to not only be a believer, but also consistently trying to be the best version of ourselves! Thanks for sharing! Barb
Great job with this poem. I was not prepared for “Start back at step one.” I wonder if it indicates a cycle that you find yourself living out. Which then makes me wonder why?
Melissa, I love the simplicity of your poem. It pulls me right in and arrives at the “repeat” line that I felt compelled to use in my own (albeit more chaotic) poem. Lovely.
Lovely! The parallel structure made me feel at peace and the story you told made me feel like I could be a better version of myself. Thank you!
First of all, thank you for this prompt. It took me to unexpected places, as the best prompts and poems do. And this is how I became myself,,,
Steps to Becoming Gayle
1. Be the first-born to TWO only children
a. Become the shining star for 4 grandparents,
6 great-grandparents, and some great-greats
thrown in for good measure
b. Glory in that attention! (you don’t get to solo for long–Robin will be along shortly)…)
2. Be a little bit–OK, a lot–spoiled
a. Choose a fourth grade teacher as one of your grandmothers and have her live next door
1. Lie in bed with her at night and play the “make a story” game.
You give her a topic, and she makes a story from it,
She gives you a topic, and you make up a story for her
2. Learn to read Dick and Jane books when you are two and a half
3. Diagram sentences that she gives you (for fun!) while she grades papers under the lamp at the dining room table.
4. Let that grandmother be your fourth grade teacher so that she can be sure that so that she can be sure that you are always doing “your very best”. Never scribble through a mistake. Cross it out neatly, with just ONE line. Call her “Mrs. Holmes” all day long in school.
5. Become the Buffalo Evening News National Spelling Bee champion of Chautauqua County for four years running, then go to the state level. Study the dictionary.
b. Choose another grandmother who will sew ALL your clothes for you.
1. They will always fit perfectly
2. Learn to lay out the pattern when you are eight because she doesn’t like that part of the job
3. Learn to sew when you are ten.
4. Learn to play poker with her when you are five.
5. Always remember “Don’t break your arm patting yourself on the back, Gayle” as you go through life. It keeps you humble.
c. Call one of your grandfathers “Al” because “Grandpa” makes him feel old. This will always cause confusion when you tell people about him.
1. Learn the opening stanza of Hiawatha when you are three and play Indian native with him under a card table while Grandma Sancie cooks dinner. Keep those opening words with you for life–”By the shores of Gitchigoomie, by the shining big sea waters…”
2. Snowshoe and ice fish with him. Learn just how silent the world can be.
d. Reserve Sunday breakfasts with JUST YOU and Grandpa Carl while Grandma Inie sleeps. Poached eggs on toast and
coffee, always, with Grandma’s homemade white bread toasted and the silver percolator burbling on the counter.
(Your coffee is mostly cream and sugar. Never change that very successful ratio–ever.)
1. Walk in upstate NY blizzard snow globes while holding his hand.
2. Sing songs like “Won’t You Come Home, Bill Bailey” with him while your Grandma Inie pounds the tunes out on the piano in their parlor.
3. Know that he loves you more than anyone in the world could ever love you, and that you feel the same about him.
3. Carry those people with you in your heart and your soul for always, because what more could a scrawny, skinny, too-tall, thick-glasses girl need to become Gayle?
(Not sure what happened to my formatting or my name here! Although I have always wanted to be important enough to be called ANONYMOUS”.
Gayle Sands
2-16-2021
So much fabulous grandparent love here, Gayle! You were truly blessed to have that!! “Carry those people with you in your heart and your soul for always”
Wow, Gayle, this is an incredible poem. I love all of the details that show your abilities and relationships. Your end is incredibly touching and the perfect tribute to your loving grandparents! Beautiful!
You had me right from the start! “ 1. Be the first-born to TWO only children”. I swear I read that line 4 times to make sure I read it correctly. I love when poems make me do this because I know the author put lots of work into crafting each and every word. Thank you, Gayle!
I absolutely loved Brandon Leake’s spoken word poem; thank you for this inspiration, Rachelle! Something about this writing was particularly challenging – is it because I am 61 years old? Too many steps to being, not enough steps to being – ha!
Here’s my poem…
A part of me
I was born
long enough ago
to know that
details must be scrubbed
if attention spans will survive
a part of me
will always be
5 years old
laughing
at my brothers’ antics
a part of me
will always be
12 years old
scared
by my mother’s mental illness
a part of me
will always be
17 years old
hiding
in my room writing
a part of me
will always be
19 years old
talking
late into the night
with girlfriends
a part of me
will always be
22 years old
excited
to be on my own
a part of me
will always be
27 years old
falling in love
a part of me
will always be
35 years old
surrounded
by my young family
a part of me
will always be
40 years old
deciding
to become a teacher
a part of me
well, you get the idea,
the years go by
I grow, I hold
a part of me
will always be
wondering
reflecting
exploring
hoping
writing
Maureen — The growth in this poem, your progression, is quite beautiful. The whole idea that reflection puts us closer to understanding ourselves is quite something, and you’ve accomplished that here in so few words. This is fine poem. Thank you for sharing this slice of you. Susie
Maureen,
Your poem captures the complications of life, especially as we grow older and realize we’d need as many steps as there are at Machu Picchu to encapsulate our lives, so this line is my favorite:
I love the ending list. Wonderful.
Beautiful, Maureen, how the poem progresses and I found myself identifying with life’s stages even though my events are different. I love the part the says as years go by I grow, I hold.
Maureen, I love how you structured this poem to show your struggles and triumphs! I so love the action words at the end; especially “hoping” and “writing”. Awesome reflection of you!
Oh, Maureen. This is beautiful.. all those parts of you—teh difficult adn the wondrous. All there in the you who wrote for us today. We are all so lucky.
This is an absolutely amazing way to write this poem. I think most of have those parts of us that will always be. Thank you for sharing parts of you.
I really love the idea of all of those parts of you making who you are. Each piece building upon the previous ones to make you anew again and again. And your final stanza
that shows the thread that connects it all. Lovely!
I love how you took the form into your own hands, Maureen! It makes me want to mimic your style here out of utter appreciation. A part of me is always… I love the concept!
FILLETING SUSIE
If you cut Susie
down the middle,
belly button to the crown,
fillet her, lay her open
on stainless steel
to see what might be found,
you’ll find the jellied layers
of a woman mostly whole and partly sound.
Her blood runs sometimes red
from a father who always
she rubbed wrong;
in better days it runs a quiet pink
from a mother’s level head
thinned to whispered song;
that voice her choice
over noise her whole life long.
Let the blood drain away
to unveil the host of attitude,
the spleen, its power
to sift away the meanness,
keep blood from running sour;
it’s here Susie needed work
hour after hour.
The bones, those ossifying studs
that held this girl upright,
show signs of wear and tear,
chinks and fissures,
she cricked, of course, here and there;
dem tall ol’ bones, nonetheless,
still got her everywhere.
Snap the rubber bands of tendons,
tissues of tenacity,
she muscled forth with grit,
though stretched and pulled,
knotted inflammation, hot and fiesty spit,
knuckled down, one eye trained on forward,
the other on a past she’d not forget.
Tug the nerves,
wiry strands of jangling twitches
that never let loose of the tingle
of butterfly lilts and spider webs,
bird wings or eye lines that wrinkle,
her neurons painting memories
bigger than all the stars, yet single.
Look long at the blue eye,
anything but recessive,
she felt the blue, saw blue,
brine blue, bawdy blue, cerulean,
blue funk, baby blue, it’s true
she had an eye for all the facets
in the diamonds of her life, she knew.
Pull back all the tissues,
unveil her heart
still fluttering with a lyrical beat
a bit like Prine’s G major,
a simple melody, a funny suite,
feel the last refrain
in the air as something sweet.
Before you fold her back together,
stitch her up,
and make her whole,
you might add one last verse:
Susie, the gal you filleted today,
is not quite ready for the hearse.
by Susie Morice©
Quite shocking to imagine you cut open, filleted! What a clever way to ‘expose’ all your strengths – body, soul, and mind. This stanza depicts your strength and determination:
And, I got quite a chuckle from this line: “a woman mostly whole and partly sound.” Fabulous!!
Susie,
Girl, you are genius. I love everything about this poem. I read it to Ken and he loves it, too. Knowing your admiration for John Prine and the music of your poetry and song, my favorite verse is
I love, love, the idea of dissecting ourselves. We’re all some kind of specimen anyway. So glad you brought w/ your brilliance to this space today.
Susie, once again I am awe-struck by how you can so viscerally paint such sharp imagery in your poetry. I so enjoyed the catalogue details of all the blue you see, and I especially enjoyed “she had an eye for all the facets in the diamonds of her life, she knew.” Plus how you compare your parents’ through the blood you bleed is sheer genius. Your structure, rhythm, and rhyme make your very emotional poem so accessible. I love how it moves from one revelation to the next. Truly, I am glad that “your not quite ready for the hearse”! Absolutely sensational poem! I bow down to your brilliance with creating such a rich tapestry in a sort of gruesome way! You rock, Susie! Thanks, Barb
I love this so much!! The rhythm, the rhyme, the connections (connecting tissue??? Haha) and this stanza that is a book in itself:
in better days it runs a quiet pink
from a mother’s level head
thinned to whispered song;
that voice her choice
over noise her whole life long.
I love the direction you took this in… the fillet/dissection, but I can’t stop thinking of the blue verse. This is just so beautiful. I will comment more when I can extricate myself from this work vortex!
Wow! I was nodding my head all the way through this well-crafted poem and then BAM that last stanza. My jaw hit the floor. I love when writers do that to me—it inspires me to try the same. Thank you for sharing this space today and for creatively making the form your own!
Steps to Being Emily
Step One – Be a surprise!
Live in the world of teenage siblings
Learn to nap at gymnastics practice and band concerts.
Step Two – Get rubbed on the nose and cuddled
Develop absolutely no thick skin.
Step Three – Grow up in a “print-rich environment” (I think they call it hoarding now.)
Do not take friends into those rooms unless you’re up for uncomfortable questions.
Step Four – Take a book everywhere you go for when the adults get to chatting.
Step Five – Stand barefoot in your yard, or by water and feel peace.
Pick up lots of rocks, watch lots of bugs.
Be alone a lot.
Step Six – Hug your sister’s leg tightly as she boards the flight for college.
Sob quietly for a little extra guilt spice!
Step Seven – Hold snakes.
Explore caves.
Listen to ghost stories.
Shiver.
Step Seven Point Five – Delight in nerd-dom of various stripes.
Step Eight – Visit your sister in Boston for your sixteenth birthday.
Eat the best cannoli and sit in the last row of Blue Man Group.
Be dazzled and vow to live in a city one day.
Step Nine – Live in a city!
Learn how to mend a shattered heart.
Get a thicker skin (see Step Two)
Miss trees dearly. (see Steps Five and Seven)
Step Ten – Live with trees! Teach about trees!
Be a goddamn Lorax!
Be a nomad, anchored in friendships, yet alone a lot. (see Step Five)
Step Eleven – Bring it all together, now.
Love a sailor.
Teach the ocean and words.
Step Twelve – See all the steps and be grateful.
Keep growing.
Emily,
I smiled all the way through this and felt the tender love you have for your sister. “Vow to live in a city…live in a city” are my favorite lines as they show you know how to make things happen in your life. I’m always a fan of a taboo word for heightened interest. Bravo!
What a fabulous recipe of steps! Love the excitement for cities and trees – laughed out loud at:
Love your ending – Keep growing.
Emily — You make me so proud. This is beautiful in every sense of each line. What a gift you are to the universe. I laughed out loud, I said “Awwww. I imagined you standing barefoot and understanding the peace. This poem elicits enormous sensory response. Woo! First, your sense of humor…napping at gymnastics LOL!… hoarding … and uncomfortable questions…oh man, that is too funny … guilt spice (great term)…be a gd Lorax (LOLOLOLOL) . YES! The gentle sweetness of hugging a sister’s leg… AND that you are a teacher… good heavens, am I glad about that. What a treasure. Hugs to you! Susie
Emily, you ran with this prompt and I’m here for it! You gave your readers just enough for us to follow and also to wonder more. You give us a hint at Emily, and I think that’s perfect. I loved jumping around the poem when you’d refer back to a step! It makes for some really active reading!
Rachelle, thanks for this challenging prompt. I will have to use this with my new class of students. I know they will love it. I loved your poem and especially “Be a teacher. Create space for creators to chase fate. To make mistakes.” Sweet!
Steps to Being Barb (E)
One:
You gotta first be named Barb
A four letter word
Who means no harm
Two:
Know how to take a punch
how to handle visits from
outer space and drunks
Three:
Long for sunny days
and cool blue pools
Be an expert at being a fool
Four:
Or look up young and dumb
in Webster’s unabridged dictionary
yep, that’s me
Five:
Then dig down deep
Work hard, and repeat
Cause some days I don’t even know
the Barb that’s me
Barb Edler
January 16, 2021
Barb,
I think we can all echo these lines:
at some point in life. I really like the idea of not knowing oneself. It offers space for discovery and change. We all need less certitude in our lives anyway.
Glenda, I love how your response moved my thinking. <3
Barb,
Missed the witch reference, but loved Number Two, visits from outer space and drunks. Liked the dig deep and repeat…This time of year it could be a veiled snow removal reference?
I adore that opening pun of a stanza:
“You gotta first be named Barb
A four letter word
Who means no harm”
Barb — You really do write some beautiful poems. I loved that you messed with some rhyming, as it added to the jump from step to step. I sure do understand the conflict in those last lines…some days we just don’t know. But you have me wondering about the “Barb (E)” … barbie??? nooooo. You are much to put-together for that to be the case…I’m going to argue with you here..#4. But when I look at myself at various points in life, I too could write that #4. Glad you are writing here! Thanks! Susie
Susie, you crack me up! NO! No one calls me Barbie…it was just sort of a play on words for my last name beginning with E. I’ve had some doozy nicknames in the past though such as barracuda…yes, that one is far more fitting than Barb (E). Thanks for realizing that barbie would not be a reflection of me.
Others have mentioned this but I will too: There is irony in a name of Barb that means no harm. Your use of slant rhyme/ assonance is so effective: Barb/Harm and punch/drunks. I loved this!
Thank you for this treat of a poem, Barb! I love the ending because, truly, I feel that sentiment about myself. Who am I? Who do I want to be? How can I get there?
Steps to Becoming a Superstar Teacher
1. Get a teaching certificate.
2. Reflect on the debt you’ve accrued.
3. Weep.
4. Buy yourself some stickers from one of the hundred dollar stores in the area, make sure at least one of the sets of stickers has a shooting star in it.
5. Affix said sticker to a non-porous surface where it can be gazed upon lovingly several times a day.
6. Return to the aforementioned weeping.
Steps to Becoming a World-Class Instructor during This World-Wide Pandemic
1. Are you kidding?
STEPS TO BEING THE BEST DAMN EDUCATOR EVER!
1. Buy a book from a self-professed Guru who has never been in the classroom or who has been out of one for over ten years. (Although the ideas and pedagogical tips will be as helpful as that dot matrix printer you’ve been “storing” in your attic crawlspace, hoping to dust it off — literally — and put it to use one of these days, his or her text will be crawling with meaningless platitudes that’ll range from useless to borderline criminal. Oh, and there’ll be lots of exclamation points, too!!)
2. Become comfortable with jargon. (So.Much.Jargon.) Be ready to abolish Sit and Get and Drill and Kill, get off the Stage to be a Guide on the Side while still being a Teacher Leader using a Lesson Design that is both Universal and Backward, make sure all of your High Quality Instruction is Student-Centered, Student-Centric, Student-Created while still maintaining Rigor that Exceeds required Depth of Knowledge Benchmark Standards of the Common Core Curriculum.
3. Remember that everyone is here for you, behind you 100% (Unless you unduly tax the economy in any way, expound ideas that question the prevailing whitest quo, er, status quo, or balk at providing free child care.)
4. When any doubt creeps in, remember that you have the summers off!!!
Hey, real talk for a second, steps to becoming a marginally successful (on some days) teacher during this incredibly difficult time
1. Check your
privileges, all of them, and also
the share settings on your documents
the volume knob on your speakers
Is your mic plugged in?
Are the closed-captions on?
Have you logged onto the Pear Deck’s Teacher Dashboard
on your secondary device?
2. YOU NEED TO GET A SECONDARY DEVICE.
3. Be Kind
to yourself
to your students
to your students’ parents
4. Be Open about
what works
and what doesn’t
have the courage to sit with that
and work on it
5. Join Twitter
6. Follow educators who are trying to make
themselves and their professions
better
7. Try to be better.
8. Fail at it.
9. Try again. Fail again. Fail Better. (Hat Tip to Samuel Beckett)
10. Repeat step nine as needed.
Scott, I love this. Just the right amount of truth and snark and so much more truth. I’m so glad I came back to peek at these tonight. This made me smile and elicited an out loud laugh and most especially, a reminder that kindness brings it all together.
You are cleverly, humorously, totally on point!! There is so much wisdom within your humor. Your all caps line cracked me up: 2. YOU NEED TO GET A SECONDARY DEVICE.
OMG, this is hilarious, Scott…and sadly 100% true. I am literally belly laughing here. Here are the killa bits for me:
*weeping
*the self-professed Gurus… OMG YES!
*the #2 jargon…holy cow…LOLOLOLOLOL!
*the ridiculous irony of everybody being 100% behind you — what a joke! (teachers are prime targets for anyone who wants to step on your neck)
*summers off, yeah, right…fat chance
*fail…fail better
Dang, dude…this is priceless …so damned honest and real. Now, having said that, I think you are exactly the teacher we need! I guess it’s truly fair for me to say that you are the writer we all need. I’d love to see you teach…can’t help but think you must be a dandy good teacher…. you are a dandy good writer. Thanks! Susie
Thank you, Susie! 🙂
Scott, wow, did you nail it here! What a perfect definition of what an educator is. You most definitely need to publish this in as many educational places as you can! I so understand step 9! Thanks, Barb
Scott—it’s like you’ve read the rants in my journal! Thank you for sharing this and for creating something so relatable. I love what you did with this prompt, the multiple headings, and the shifting of tone. I appreciate the work you do and based on the poem, I can bet you’re one superstar teacher!
Hi Rachelle,
I’m in love with that video! OMG I need him to marry my daughter. LOL. Anyway, today sucks for my writing time. I’ve just finished class and have 3 more zoom meetings today. I hope to write before I go to bed. So sorry I can’t even take time to read posts yet, I’m on a 10-minute break between meetings. Your poem rocks!
I love this because it’s a reminder to take the life lessons with care:
Thank you for introducing me to someone new and a new form to try!
?
Stacey, even if this is the only writing you do today (how you found time at all with that schedule), you brought us joy (I’d love to see him marry your daughter – think of the toasts!).
Stacey—thanks for giving this prompt thought and this poem TIME! Your time is valuable and I love your commentary. I appreciate you!
I really like this format as one to share with students, but for myself I took a slightly different approach. I know the tone is, well, cynical, but it reflects my mood today. Feel free to scroll on by.
Me: A How To Poem
Know your name is rooted
in absence,
in desperation,
in a last-ditch attempt
to anchor father
to mother
to family.
Accept the middle,
your assigned seat,
stuck between older sister
always in capital T trouble and
younger brother: pampered,
privileged, favored, desired
by your father & his mother
See yourself as a worm,
a sinner of biblical proportions
undeserving of grace,
full of fiery-furnace
baptist guilt and
an eternal vacation
in the lake of fire
Learn to fight with words,
to argue using logic,
to hold your own
against religious dogma
against playground bullies
against unaccepting family
against life’s unfairness.
Move your belongings
to new places,
your mind
to new philosophies,
your body
in ways that stretch
physical muscles and muscle memory.
Embrace your cynicism,
your questioning traditions,
your denial of whataboutisms,
your life on the fringe
of dominant cultures,
of ways of doing, teaching, learning
when doubting conventional wisdom.
Live life
with no father living
with a mother absent
for children, your own and others
with and without two husbands
one who wants you to change
the other who loves you as you are.
—Glenda Funk
How can we scroll by? “Me: A How To Poem” a celebration of you, expressed in all the rawness. Cynical, maybe. But I like your advice in my favorite stanza…”Embrace your cynicism…”
This prompt seems to have brought out the rawness for many of us today. I’m glad we have a safe space to share such personal thoughts and feelings. I like the feeling of paring down to the basics I get when reading your poem. I felt like I was writing way too much, but I did it anyway. Love the last line!
I really like this prompt because it is helping me get to know each person in this group a bit better. Your poem is very descriptive of a youth feeling low of self esteem and learning to fight to become. It may be raw but so human and full of survival and life. We become adults and hopefully find someone who “loves you as you are.”
Glenda, it would be difficult to scroll past – your words always convey such strength. As they do today. We sure do fight with our words, and you do it remarkably. Hugs for all the fighting you’ve done.
Glenda – thanks for digging in and going deep. I love the turn in self-reliance I see in this stanza:
Embrace your cynicism,
your questioning traditions,
your denial of whataboutisms,
I love that you found the strengths in yourself and celebrated it.
Glenda, I love your poem. It is beautiful just like you are! Your poem defines your personality and strength, and I am so glad you found the husband “who loves you as you are”! Life can be incredibly hard, but it is clear that you are a force to be reckoned, courageous, and brilliant!
I like the cynical, but also can’t wait for the emergence of the middle child/funkadelic. It’d be a nice bookend piece to balance this one. Your moving stanza was one of empowerment.
Rex,
You missed my funkadelic poem “Boobs: A Life” from last April. Jennifer reminded me of it via email this morning. ?
Oh my, as always, Glenda – beautifully, thoughtfully done! I love this. I think this is my favorite part, perhaps because I live it, too…
It’s amazing how much we learn about one another through this poetry exercise. I don’t see pervasive cynicism – I see a remarkable woman.
Glenda — This is a powerful woman! I love this…it feels like the Glenda I’ve come to know. And I really like that strength and yet the vulnerability that is here. I’d call this a full-bodied woman in that it is a fine, deep, rich wine.
This is my favorite part:
a worm,
a sinner of biblical proportions
undeserving of grace,
full of fiery-furnace
baptist guilt and
an eternal vacation
in the lake of fire
There’s so much in these lines — the sense of what you threw off in order to be the strong woman that you are is powerful.
Great poem, my friend! I feel lucky learning you through your poems. Hugs, Susie
I personally love what you did here, and it definitely encouraged me to be real with myself too. By sharing this poem you invited others to not sugar-coat their lives and to take a realistic approach. Thank you for writing today, Glenda. Definitely could not scroll on by!
Steps to Being Judi
Step One:
If you don’t have eyes and hair that are brown
You need to sit down right now
Because you’re not me, I can plainly see
And, sit down if you’ve not milked a cow
Step Two:
If you’re still standing, you might be me
although you must love writing poems
But if you didn’t kiss Jack under the apple tree
Then you’re not me and must go home
Step Three:
If you found math a trial that made no sense
It’s possible you are still standing
We’ve kinship it seems, but for you to be me
There’s one more test that I am demanding
Step Four:
Where were you born, I’d need to ask
In Minnesota? And was there snow?
Stay standing if you
were born in a town
Called Mont-e-video!
Judi Opager, February 16, 2021
Judi, what a playful fun poem! I am surely not you! I had to sit down way back. 🙂 I have, however, milked a cow. Very sweet rhythm and rhyme. This is my favorite:
Judi, I love how lighthearted your poem is. I’m wondering how my mood today affected my poem. After reading your poem, I decided I may take another crack at it another day and see if it takes me somewhere else. I love your rhymes!
Judi – I love how this plays out like a guessing game, and a bit of a connection with the reader. I’d be standing for that math stanza!
Judi, I’m with Emily here; I really enjoyed the interplay between the speaker and the reader, the fun of Ok, “you might be me” to “We’ve kinship it seems.” This was fun (and funny, too)!
Oh, Judi, I love how you so cleverly created this poem! From milking cows to kissing Jack under the apple tree, your details are fun and inviting. Thanks for sharing this delightful perspective of you!
I found myself smiling throughout your poem. 🙂 It has a fun rhythm and tone that just pulled me through–and I don’t usually enjoy rhyming–so go you! Between the milking of a cow and kissing Jack under the apple tree, you paint a fun picture of a distinctive person.
Okay! I see you! This was so fun! Thank you for sharing a piece that truly made me smile!
Steps to Being Mo
One: Come into the world on a hot August night after mom had served dad his pork chops and sauerkraut. Hope your eight older siblings will take kindly to you.
Two: Be a sweet little towhead who is pleasant to everyone, but doesn’t quite get why her daddy is always I the hospital.
Three: Hold hands with your mom and older sister at the funeral as the realization jolts you to tears that daddy isn’t coming home again.
Four: Plod along sweetly through grade school. Wonder why mom is so exhausted that she can’t get dinner on the table every night.
Five: Get your first real job in eighth grade, just so you can buy some candy or maybe a record at Dekoven’s. Show the world that you can be poor and still have class, maybe even sass.
Six: Go to high school and try all the clubs and sports you can. Be a friend to everyone. Parcel yourself out to them- just give a little, but keep most of yourself to yourself, for safety reasons.
Seven: Trust your gut. You know what’s right, what’s wrong, what’s okay to experiment with, what’s not, what you can get away with. Believe you are smart.
Eight: Go to college, like so few in your family have. Enjoy it as much as you can without worrying too much. Make those friends who will stay with you forever. And remember that cute jerk you met on Quad Day. Irritatingly enough, he’ll be back.
Nine: Do the work. Figure out the balance of school, work, friends, family, and even—LOVE!
Ten: Learn what AIDS is when your brother gets his diagnosis.
Eleven:Twelve:Thirteen: GraduateGetmarriedHavebabies
Fourteen: Lose a whole big part of yourself when mom goes to the hospital for a simple surgery and never comes home, leaving you an orphaned mother at 26.
Fifteen: Hold your emaciated brother and tell him it’s okay to go. Thank the Lord your mom didn’t have to see him die.
Sixteen: Cherish those babies, for they will become the men you want them to be- kind, smart, funny, and good to their mom.
Seventeen: Dip your toe back into the work pond. Get dragged back in kicking and screaming against your will, not quite ready to leave those boys.
Eighteen: Stay strong. ALL. THE. TIME. Your boys need you. Your husband needs you. Your students need you.
Nineteen: Stand in the room with 18 of your closest relatives and try to decide what to do when the machines are turned off. Would your sister have wanted her organs donated? Be mad, but just for a little while, that she hadn’t talked to anyone about that before her brain decided to explode.
Twenty: Repeat step eighteen over and over and over again.
Twenty-one: Move to Strasbourg for a year and live your best life!
Twenty-two: Come home and hire a hack to hack your body and ruin your life.
Twenty-three: See step eighteen. Repeat.
Twenty-four: Keep moving forward, getting stronger, getting smarter, gaining confidence, putting yourself out there. And write, girl! You might even be good at it!
Twenty-five: Become a grandmother and love like you’ve never loved before!
Wow, Mo, you have told so many steps. What a beautiful way to write an autobiography. Step 18, repeated so often, adds much to the whole. Step 19 is so heartbreaking and told matter-of-factly, but with such raw and honest power.
Mo,
Reading this poem detailing so much of your life I thought about all the love in big families, but I also thought about the heartache. Twenty-two fills me w/ righteous indignation for you, but it also fills me w/ fear as I grow older and my lack of confidence in the medical profession also grows. As a poor kid, too, I love this line:
Twenty: Repeat step eighteen over and over and over again. – I hear this loud and clear!!
There were so many lines in here, Mo, that got my eyes a little moist. Thanks for sharing your story here… those first two lines said so much with just a few words.
Mo, [wiping eyes] I’m not crying. You’re crying. (Kidding aside, real tears were shed while reading this.) Thank you for writing this and sharing it!
Mo, your poem is so incredibly raw, honest, and riveting! I love how you tempered all the loss with the wonderful end of having a grandchild to “love like you’ve never loved before!” Thanks for sharing so much of your life today with us in your poem! Your poem does show what an incredible poet you are, and what an incredible woman you are, too! Peace and hugs, Barb.
Wow, Mo, this is a whole BIG life here…you have really distilled an incredible journey. So much of these “steps” are just gut-punchingly rough and raw. The losses…oh man, so many deep losses. Mo, I was moved by the intimacy of each of these experiences in that they cut to the bone. Tonight, please know that I’m sending honor, respect, and friendship to you. Hugs and love, Susie
“Twenty-four: Keep moving forward, getting stronger, getting smarter, gaining confidence, putting yourself out there. And write, girl! You might even be good at it!”
YOU ARE GOOD AT WRITING. I was entranced by your poem and getting to see life from your point of view, if only for a few stanzas. Thank you for sharing your story. I’m so glad you found writing.
Rachel,
Thank you so much for the beautiful prompt and mentor texts. Here are two of my favorite images. They go side-by-side and a lot of us can relate to the fight between these:
Steps to Being Denise Krebs
One: Be named Denise, not Lisa Lorraine because of that naughty Lisa in my mom’s scout troop. Wish your name would have been Lisa instead of Denise.
Two: Come to life when rock and roll was just a toddler and trouble was stirred up mostly by people like Elvis.
Three: Learn to be cute at all costs and run fast.
Four: Wear the same pair of blue jeans every day of sixth grade in honor of the first year you didn’t have to wear a dress to school.
Five: Be so angry that you see darkness when you talk to people who don’t deserve your respect.
Six: Let go of the anger and let Grace find you.
Seven: Wait too many years to realize that you and your ancestors failed to own racism.
Eight: Own it and be better.
Now that I’ve identified these eight steps, they bring up eight or more questions, including who is Denise Krebs anyway?
Denise, I kept highlighting which numbers stood out and couldn’t stop. I love everything about this, but where it ends up is beautiful.
Seven: Wait too many years to realize that you and your ancestors failed to own racism.
Eight: Own it and be better.
I especially like the idea of owning racism and being better. This is an insightful wake up alarm.
Well not only can I not count today. I can’t even spell my own name.
You’ve shared so many wonderful memories, Denise. I like how your poem turns in the middle and takes us down another, important path. I love your positive ending.
I see a theme of learning here… learning about your name, how to be cute, Grace, and about the ancestors. Love this take on the journey.
Dense, I love the positive tone of your poem. The take action attitude resonates. I loved the lines: “Let go of the anger and let Grace find you.” and “Own it and be better.” Beautiful!
Nice to see a naughty Lisa show up, but I really liked the personification of grace. Growing up, my sister Joy always had an imaginary friend named Jill who was her Mr. Hyde. Where is Lisa now?
Wowsa – this is a BIG admission, one which I can totally relate to:
Isn’t it wild how “steps” reveal more questions? Love that conclusion!
I love the conviction in line 8. It inspires me to be better too. Thank you for this reflection and this piece, Denise!
Steps to Being Rex
1. There’s gotta be a slappy funky bassline, born with respect
to Bootsy Collins, opening the door.
2. Bring in enough measures on the intro that folks jump in too early, thinking they know the melody, but share laughter knowing they didn’t, and then do it a second time, and laugh more.
3. There’s a line of horns that walk onto the stage in a cadence, and start a swaying motion about the time of mom’s first contractions in the winter of ‘64.
4. The horns are just moving, but the cymbal starts a match with the bass, like a fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich, yumming it up, sliding dress shoes on the floor.
5. Scenes from action movies with Richard Roundtree and Steve McQueen are superimposed over the stage, and the horns start a crescendo with the bass that peaks with a synched blast like an opening trap door, hardcore.
6. Someone coughs during a measure with a long pause. They swaddle me in a blanket and hand me to mom, a moment waited for.
7. The spirit of Eddie Van Halen emerges and starts a montage of my childhood, with guitar riffs playing hide and seek with the bass and horns, and the new percussion staggering to reestablish the score.
8. Lights dim and a gathering of cellos fly in sadder melodies as puberty hits, crashing waves blue lit in the background, and Aaron Neville’s voice takes us on a current and we soar.
9. Our wings melt, and we fall toward the earth amidst a J. Geils Band saxaphone wailing uproar.
Startled from it all, we awake with ache in our bones, more questions than before:
What is this earworm, and who is Rex?
Rex, I am loving your use of the horn jazz throughout. Makes me wonder if you were born in New Orleans? I don’t think for one minute that you are an earworm. Music is part of your soul.
Rex, love the image and language of the fried pb and j “yumming it up.” Number 9 is perfection.
Rex,
I see you used my name in adjective form. Okay, dude, go ahead and “play that funky music, white boy.”
What a novel approach to the prompt, Rex! I think I’m really getting a sense of who you are. I love the playfulness of the tone. Well done!
Rex, your poem has a jazzy rhythm of its own. I loved the reference to J. Geils, cause I could just imagine the lyrics at that point to their song “Love Stinks!” Your final line is so well played! Very fun poem, and it reflects the very artistic person you are!
Rex, thanks for playing along to this prompt. I loved being able to HEAR what was going on!
Twenty Steps to Being Susan
Step One
You are named Susan
not Suzanne, for heaven’s sake!
You must:
Step Two
Be a World War II baby
desired by her parents who wanted a boy child named Chris
Step Three
Be the first-born, be a leader, set an example, you can do anything!
Step Four
Apply self pressure (see Step Three)
Step Five
Collect snails in a box and leave them on the street for cars to squish
Step Six
Explore and rebel, sneak into the field to have that kiss
Let a stranger you just met, feel you up and then marry him
Step Seven
Be a dreamer
Dream to be an astronaut, climb Mt. Everest or be a National Geographic explorer
Step Eight
Study the wrong but heart-felt subject in college
(Wrong because it won’t earn you a living)
Step Nine
Give up your Christian beliefs
Challenge them, research
Believe again
Step Ten
Have revenge on a pesky sister that spies on you when you have your boyfriend over
Step Eleven
Go back to college (see Step Eight)
Study a new subject then teach
Step Twelve
Be a proud mother of two
Be a grandmother of one – sweet like me
Step Thirteen
Grow up by the beaches, mountains and desert
Love camping and the outdoors
Step Fourteen
Not care about history and wish you had
Step Fifteen
Write a book from love letters sent from Dad to Mom
Step Sixteen
Have your artwork hung on walls in other countries
Step Seventeen
Be scared to pieces about heights so you must jump out of a plane (sometime)
Step Eighteen
Drink red wine with your best friend
Laugh with your lover
Step Nineteen
Hope to grow old gracefully
Have knees that crack and slow you down
Step Twenty
Pack provisions because you know the trip will now take longer (see Step Nineteen) Keep dreaming!
Susan, your honesty and life events are so fun and real! I get here and think how so much of life is
Step Eighteen
Drink red wine with your best friend
And questioning faith and hearing God answer – seeing the miracles!
Susan – Not Suzanne, for heaven’s sake – this is a treat!
Susan, everything about your poem screams a life well lived. It sounds like you do things on your own terms and are pretty happy about that. Good for you!
Susan,
I echo Mo’s comment. I love this line:
Rachelle, thanks for this fun way to recall who we are and how we’ve come to be. It was interesting to view the video in which Brandon begins with his name. I’ve done the same and allude to a song popular in my youth. Some of you may recall it. Others will find it a kick to watch and try, “THE NAME GAME” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-7NEYSKRJzA
Music, Mama, Mentor
Anna’s my name
Not Ana, Hannah, or Banana Fana.
Motown’s my town even when I’m not around.
I haven’t lived there for years.
Yet the Motown sound still gets my cheers.
It’s music to these old ears.
From a family of six, but we were in a fix
‘Cause Mom for years was not well.
For most of my youth, she was face in a hospital window.
But she could sew so well.
Store-bought or homemade? Folks couldn’t tell.
We were always turned out so swell.
Eight different schools before college
Moving a lot, and still gaining knowledge.
But, moving every two years was no fun.
Being a newbie so often, taught me how to run.
Then I stopped.
You tease me. You got popped.
After college came marriage
And soon the baby carriage.
I’m a Mom in a family of five
But, alas, one son is no longer alive.
His death in Japan remains a mystery.
Thinking of him still makes me teary;
Recalling his smile makes me cheery.
Teaching is my game,
One whose rules I continue to learn.
What works with some, others spurn.
My joy is to inspire students to yearn
To know more, to do more, to share more.
Who knows what life has in store?
Now, as a teacher I’m retired, but I’m still learning.
And mentoring based on those years in the classroom.
Rejoicing with my newbies, cheering as they grow and glow!
What a delight to share the light and see them in full bloom!
Anna, I love it all. You had me at Motown. You are one strong, brave, resilient woman! I love your spunk and feistiness, yet you’re gentle and nurturing, too, with a warm sense of humor. As you know, I’m so sorry for the loss of your son. Im sorry we both had to go through that. You and I know how deep that loss is and yet we have hope. I love that you blossom and shine and giving your all and delighting in others’ growth.
Anna – first of all, I love the nickname stanza. My niece despises all of these names, too! I love the moments you choose to highlight, taking turns in light and shadow and even making it rhyme. Kudos and thank you!
Rachelle, thank you for introducing me to Brandon Leake – the name sounded familiar but didn’t know anything about him. His poem is definitely very powerful, and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to perform spoken word. AH! Your voice is strong in your poem and I feel like this totally could be spoken word with the attitude in line 2 and “flex” and “and, and, and” and the strong sound devices throughout. LOVE IT!
Ten Steps to Being Angelica (Angie)
One:
Be born Angelica
and hate the name
prefer to be called Angie.
Respond to “mija” every day.
Warm to Angelica in later life.
Special people call you this.
Two:
Develop this awkwardness,
this inability to converse easily.
Let your brother speak for you
While you write and overthink.
Three:
Excel in school,
in your mind,
follow the rules,
do what’s right.
Four:
Be an understanding person
Come to terms with not
understanding most things.
Five:
Be low maintenance
and high maintenance
Middle maintenance?
Six:
Care so much.
Don’t care at all.
Seven:
Say sure a lot
(see two).
Eight:
Want to make a change
Wonder if you ever do.
Nine:
Blend in everywhere
Fit in nowhere.
Ten:
Be fond of the
word paradox.
Angie, we are kindred spirits! I especially relate to numbers two and nine. But thankfully words have power, as your poem exhibits today. I’ve never thought of being middle maintenance, but there you have it (or you found it!).
An Identity Alphabet
a) born jennifer ann to a mother who biked the edges of mackinac island only days before
b) july 4, 1967: tuesday’s child is
c) full of grace, a hail mary life, if ever there was one
d) of three, the oldest
e) in years but also in spirit, if we’re being honest
f) to goodness, found in a grandmother’s words and handwritten letters
g) have always spoken more (sentences before a year)
h) than numbers, unless its in miles
i) travelled, many to go before
j) i sleep: j takes us to a
I love this “Identity Alphabet” so much, Jennifer. How you have connected each line is just so creative. What a writer 🙂
Jennifer, I want to steal this form. I’ve always loved the ditty Monday’s Child… I am a Friday’s child and take it to heart, loving and giving. “Hail Mary” life hints to Catholicism. I love the way this poem rides along and then back to a. Miles to go…Yes, you have many more.
Jennifer, your creativity and echoing words just work together so splendidly here – I see the mention of your grandmother and think of how all these words ring forth even years later after they were heard and heard again. These are precious word memories!
And how it starts over at J for Jennifer!
Jennifer,
Clever approach to the prompt. WOW to your mom. She’s a lady on the move. I’m going to call you Miss Independence for that July 4 birthday.
Steps to Being Shannon
Be named Shannon in 1971, 50 years ago this month, the predictable oldest of three.
Be a rule follower even when no one cared that my bed was made, or homework done. Hold my calls please.
Be ready to run. Lacing up shoes before dawn gives a silence to think, to prove.
Be ready to compete. The runs paid off.
Be ready to love, to marry, to travel, to mother four sons.
Be ready to listen.
Be ready to teach.
Be ready to learn.
Be awake.
Be aware.
Be ready to parent a parent.
Be ready to feel.
Be ready to heal.
I love that you began all lines with “Be” and most with “Be ready” – the consistency is powerful and I love “Be ready to run”!!!!!
Shannon, I love everything about this. I think it was in Hamlet where Shakespeare wrote the line “the readiness is all.” With four sons, it was game on every minute of every day I’m sure !!!
These tips are great. I could be Shannon, too. I am a rule follower even when no one cares and have had to get ready to parent a parent. Could these similarities be because we are both the eldest of three?
This prompt takes more time mulling over than I’ve got this morning, but I want to come back to it. This is what I have so far:
Steps to Being Margaret Simon
One: You first have to be named Margaret–the name of your ancestor,
grandmother portrait hanging on the wall in your dining room.
Two: Be born in the heat of summer, two weeks late, heavy and hungry.
Three: Born in turbulent times of war and civil rights, while Rosa is sitting, Martin is marching, and Emmitt lay still.
Four: Read Nancy Drew and want to be Nancy. Read Judy Blume and embrace your name. “Are you there, God, it’s me!”
Margaret! I love this ending….those of us who all wanted to be Margaret. You’re that girl – lucky, lucky you!
Margaret, so much said here in just 4 numbers. I felt the heavy and heat of the birth, loved the play on movement with Rosa, Martin, and Emmitt, the visual of your grandmother’s portrait, and the word play in the last line (and yes, I wanted to be Nancy too!)
Nancy, your poem reminds us of the power of reading, not just books that have characters with our names, but also characters that help us see others and maybe even help shape us.
Rachelle, what a marvelous topic you bring us today! An inspiration that is no-fail no matter how many times we fail or have been failed. We have full permission to be us!! I love your ending – room to make mistakes. I really should have started mine with that…..because that’s my specialty! Thank you for investing in us as writers today!
Steps to being Kim Johnson
First, reconsider. But somebody has to do it. So…
1 Be born to a Southern Baptist preacher in seminary who plops you down on his desk in the middle of all his open books and speaks to you in Hebrew. Just smile and coo.
2 Accept that you will always be in trouble somewhere- even when you’re not in trouble everywhere. The church shares joint custody of PKs.
3 Love dogs. Want them all – even ones that aren’t yours to have.
4 But reject cats. Your DNA makes no sense why this is so. It just is.
5 Be accident prone! Fall off houses and out of trees and get thrown off of strange bareback horses you had no business riding in the first place. Then lie about how it happened. No…..wait. Be a creative storyteller. Yes! A mystery writer with a less incriminating plot. That’s what you are. No lying PK!
4 Don’t pay attention in math class. It’s boring as all hell and you’re never going to be successful at it, anyway. You can’t even count.
5 Grow up on two Atlantic Coast islands. Learn to crab, fish, swim, ski, and how not to drown in a “for real” undertow – not just the one you’re living in.
7 Have a little bratty brother who finds less trouble than you but who always gets caught. Write a book about him one day and tell all the family secrets – well most, anyway. You’ll be friends for life.
10 Don’t listen. Do it your way, the way your friends say. What does family know, anyway? Throw a wedding with the wrong one, then see what family knew. Get a divorce and be grateful for three good things that came of it – your children.
7 Listen. Consider your family’s nod. They tell truths others won’t risk. Marry the right one – the one who calls you the love of his life and is the only man on the face of the earth who could possibly ever mean it. Love that man to pieces!
8 Move to the Johnson Funny Farm. Have dogs – lots and lots of dogs. Realize you are far more successful at parenting dogs than you ever were at parenting humans.
9 Read. Write. Teach. Travel. Blog. Enjoy too many sweets. Wave a tearful goodbye to your thyroid, wipe your eyes, and then throw away that Kleenex!
10 Realize at your mother’s death that your dad has reverted to speaking Hebrew. Pray that you can find him his own Schnoodle puppy who speaks all languages of the heart. Call your partner-in-crime brother who still loves you and devise a tag-teaming delivery plan: a surprise Schnoodle attack.
11 FaceTime the delivery. Just smile and coo in Hebrew. Grab five more Kleenex – one for letting the puppy you wanted go, and the other for your dad’s happy Hebrew heart!
Oh man, Kim. I almost didn’t catch the nod to “You can’t even count” – awwwww 🙂 Pretty great though. I love purpose in starting and ending your poem with “Just smile and coo.” That’s so lovely. Thank you for sharing.
Kim, how I love that I feel as if I know you through these words. It’s a bit of peeking in, isn’t it? Circling back to the cooing in Hebrew brings us around and cinches it tight. I strongly feel your numbers three and four (and have no explanation for four with me either – I want to, but…) So glad you have number seven!
Whoa! I love how this piece comes full circle at the end—just beautiful! Thank you for sharing today!! This was the line that made me snap “ 5 Grow up on two Atlantic Coast islands. Learn to crab, fish, swim, ski, and how not to drown in a “for real” undertow – not just the one you’re living in.” Thanks, again, for your work!
This is a keeper, Kim. All the specificity makes it You! Being a PK (I learned that term in high school from a friend who held that burden, too.) The circle back to smile and coo reveals a love circle around your father.
Wow, what beautiful images you have shared about being you! Some are not surprises, as I’ve come to know you a bit and love you through your poetry! Angie pointed out the beginning and ending with your Hebrew-speaking dad and you smiling and cooing. Beautiful full circle there.
One of my favorites:
Love that creative story you told!
Kim, as a PK, you’ll appreciate this question. What’s the different between “a story” and “a lie”? We we’re allowed to say someone was telling a “lie”. We could, however, say someone was telling a “story”. What’s the difference? 🙂
Anna, interesting question! I’m thinking that a lie may be a blatant disregard and underappreciation for the truth of nonfiction by changing the facts, while a story may be an over appreciation for creative fiction with a presumption of literary license to edit and revise as warranted? At least that’s what I kind of think….?♀️ I’m thinking as a quasi-litterateur who tried to stay out of trouble on occasion. What do you think?
Awww Kim. I love this in its warmth and humor and self deprecation. I think we just may have much in common. My favorite parts:, 9, 10, and 11. ?
Steps to Being a College Remedial Writing Teacher
1.
Be named Denise. A name that has dropped in popularity 1000% since I was born.
2.
Be born the seventh of eight in a Catholic farming family who live in the city.
3.
Because of 2, learn to hide in closets, cupboards, and behind furniture for some privacy for 4 and 5.
4.
Read. Read. Read. Read. Read.
5.
Write. Write. Write. Write. Write.
6.
Continue 4 and 5 for the rest of your life, only not in closets or cupboards but occasionally still behind furniture because it’s fun.
7.
Despite the naysayers, become an English teacher because it is okay to be what you love.
8.
Learn over decades of practice how to help others tolerate 4 and 5 just enough to get by, and try not to be stunned by those who end up telling you they actually enjoy it.
9.
Though it will take you thirty years, laugh at 7 as you look back on an amazing career, no debt, and a waiting retirement.
10.
Grow old.
“It’s okay to be what you love.”
“Grow old.”
Denise, I love the name – and I love your YOU that you share with us here! I’m so glad you kept on writing – and that we all found each other in this community!
I love your references to the other numbers. My favorite part is:
“3. Because of 2, learn to hide in closets, cupboards, and behind furniture for some privacy for 4 and 5.”
I can totally picture a little girl doing this, and I laughed when you said hide behind furniture because it’s fun. HAHA. Thanks for sharing 🙂
Denise, you took me back to hiding behind furniture (chairs) to escape while reading, something I haven’t thought of in forever (because who can escape once kids come along). My favorite line is 10. It allows us to pause and rest.
Thank you for sharing this poem, Denise. You nabbed my interest right away and kept my attention through images and repetition. Number 8 hit hard! ?
Denise, beautiful job telling the steps to being you. I like how you did what Brandon did and referred back to the other numbers, especially how reading and writing are referred to so many times! Well played.
Steps to Being Nancy White
One: You have to be able to whistle the entire Mickey Mouse Club theme song when you’re nine months old.
Two: You have to love to get messy with mud, paint, and ice cream.
Three: Your imagination is so big it’s scary sometimes.
Four: You have a giant birthmark you have to hide.
Five: You love all dogs and kitties, but greatly fear caterpillars, spiders, and ants.
Six: You prefer to wear jeans.
Seven: You get lost in your own world.
Eight: You’re hyper aware of everything.
Nine: You’re prone to fainting.
Ten: Shyness is your nemesis.
Eleven: You like to please.
Twelve: Two favorite words—coffee and chocolate.
Thirteen: You need to explore.
Fourteen: You love babies.
Fifteen: You’re very tactile and always need touch.
Sixteen: You need a pencil, pen, paints, and paper always.
Seventeen: You feel rhythm always and make up songs in your head.
Eighteen: You struggle with being hard on yourself and you blush easily.
Nineteen: You’re forever changed by the loss of your son.
Twenty: You rise like The Phoenix.
I love all the details you have added in your poem. I really like #17 – making up songs in your head 🙂 I’m sorry for your loss, and thanks for sharing. I’m happy the last line ends hopeful and strong.
Nancy, I was smiling and giggling until my heart dropped at 19. I’m so sorry for your loss and the forever pain. Hugs – and a prayer for you today as you share it with us.
This is a great list, Nancy. I like the short bursts of information. A nine-month old whistling the Micky Mouse song? Love the ending and yes, you are rising like the Phoenix.
Nancy, one amazes me (and makes me slightly envious) and makes so much sense connected to number seventeen. The reveals in these writings today are powerful. I’m so sorry for nineteen, a sadness this mother cannot imagine. Prayers that you find strength in that phoenix.
Yep! This is the Nancy I’m coming to know. Now, with your poem, I’m learning why we click even though we are soooooo different in soooooo many ways.
Thanks for the autobio details that help us know you better and to see that despite all, you rise!
This one’s not finished (are they ever?)…I’m intrigued by the direction it ended up going. It just really brought into focus something I’ve been struggling with lately
Steps to Being Julie Meiklejohn
Step One: Be named Julie
A name my mother thought would be
Unique
But there were 3 others in my
Graduating class
Step Two: Be prepared to fight
Anything and everything
Sharp edges and rough patches
Never, ever peace
Step Three: Learn to shine–and
Just as quickly,
Learn to hide your shine
For fear of being labelled “smart”
Step Four: Seek your tribe
Hollowly, unsuccessfully
Until later, when you find a few
Soulmates who see YOU even when you can’t
Step Five: Continue fighting
(See Step Two), but this time,
The demon you fight is you
Step Six: Somehow travel the
Long road to fighting not with,
But for–for students, for those
Who aren’t given a voice
Step Seven: See yourself in every
Face you fight for
Well, I’ll start with the end, because that is the powerful culmination of this work. The concept of the “face” – the image – is strengthened by the varied references to appearances throughout the poem: Soulmates who see YOU, learning to shine – and hide the shine, and the name, which is itself not unique – so the poem both opens and closes with the idea of shared identities. There’s also a journey of self-discovery here that ends with the focus not on self, but on the other – in a giving and supportive way. Lovely.
Julie, I love your fighting spirit and the fact that you’ve focused it on fighting for the students who could fall between the cracks if not for you. I had one teacher who would fight for me and help me as I struggled to have a voice. It meant the world. I love:
I’m still looking for my tribe and this gives me hope.
Julie,
Just a side note, I’ve always loved the name Julie, but never used it for a daughter because it is my sister-in-law’s name. I love how it sounds so much like jewel. Your poem is fighting to be noticed. I love that you turn to fighting for others, your students. Keep up the good fight, my friend. You know what you are doing.
I can relate to many parts of your poem. Thank you for sharing!
I love these lines, the meaning and the rhyme:
“Step Five: Continue fighting
(See Step Two), but this time,
The demon you fight is you”
Julie, I think you’ve unlocked the key everyone needs to hear in number seven. No one is a true fighter until they can see all the reasons for the fight! This needs volume in a big way to all ears today!
Hiding Myself in Annotation (An Experimental Poem)
One: See #2
Two: Where a part of me
might linger
in a poet’s notes,
the other ghosts to
Three: See #5
Four: You notice I’d crouching
not revealing much, in order
to hide to
Five: In public spheres, where
one so easily disappears,
I am barely these words
as you think you know me
here
Six: See #3 then step to #8
Seven: I am Kevin.
That much is truth.
Eight: I am writer power
poet teacher preacher songwriting
go it alone leaping forward
like skipping stone to #10
Nine: See what I did there? Gave just
enough verse to completely
disappear from here, and then hit
the poem upon reverse
Ten: Back to #7
Not just because I know you’re a musician, but I can just hear a beat in this poem that makes me feel as though I’m just missing the tune to go along with it. The “hit reverse” on the rhyme with verse is a solid stopper, and the disrupted numbering adds a layer of playfulness but also demands the reader work a bit.
Kevin, really clever how you jump around and give just a bit of truth, deliberately hiding. Love the rhythm and playfulness of this. You seem full of life and fearless. I wish I had that powerful spark!
Kevin, I am gobsmacked by your experimentation and wishing I had that in me, a rhythm to words and a daring to be brave enough to somewhat follow, not follow the rules. “Just enough verse to completely disappear” is either brilliant or a cop out. Do you do performance poetry?
Yes, very, very creative indeed. “Seven: I am Kevin. That much is truth.” Love the simple truth within this excellent experiment.
Kevin,
We are learning the steps of the dance to getting to know Kevin. Backward, forward, to and fro. Love this movement and rhythm. And mystery.
I like how my eyes had to travel across the poem—looking for the next clue in your puzzle. Thank you for sharing this rosh!
Kevin, thanks for SHOWING not just TELLING us who you are!
Sorry to tell you, but you revealed quite a bit in the carefully selected words you chose to hid behind. 🙂
Rachelle,
I love the prompt. Brandon’s spoken word poem was beautiful, and an inspiring mentor. Thank you so much! By the way, I taught at Spalding Catholic for seven years before I moved to Bahrain. I’m looking forward to exploring who I am through my poem today.
Denise! No way! I went to Gehlen—graduated in the class of 2012! I made quite a few Spaulding friends through combined school activities. I hope you like Bahrain. I love the international teaching life!
I figured you went somewhere nearby! Blessings!