Welcome to Day 28 of Verselove. If you have written with us before, welcome back. If you are joining us for the first time, you are in the kind, capable hands of today’s host, so just read the prompt below and then, when you are ready, write in the comment section below. We do ask that if you write a poem today, in the spirit of reciprocity, you respond to three or more writers. For all the prompts and to learn more about Verselove, click here.
Our Host
Glenda retired from full-time teaching in 2019 after a 38 year career and is now substitute teaching in her district. In addition to being a dog and cat mom, Glenda loves to travel and is a doting grandmother to Ezra, who at 22 months loves board books and is learning numbers, colors, and ABCs with Mom. Glenda was recently invited to be on the NCTE Children’s Poetry Awards Committee and is serving a three-year term. Glenda is participating in the Stafford Poetry Challenge to write a poem a day for a year. Glenda blogs at Swirl & Swing: www.glendafunk.wordpress.com
Inspiration
A few weeks ago author David Lubar shared a poem Alison Lubar, his daughter, wrote. “Rice for Quapas” appeared in Honey Literary, a publication that describes itself as “a BIPOC-focused literary journal.” The poem illuminates heritage through commentary on a recipe and through strikethroughs of typical recipe directions. As readers we understand cooking as tradition, love, and nourishment of body and soul through Alison’s strikethroughs and revisions. For example, consider this brief excerpt from the poem:
- Rinse the rice. Save the water to wash your hair. Add a tablespoon of the elderly dog’s otherwise dry kibble.
You are a mutt….
You can read the entire poem online here.
Process
How fun would it be to create a STRIKETHROUGH poem, I thought, so today I invite you to compose or reimagine a Strikethrough poem. Here is a short video on how to strikethrough a text in the comment section below: https://www.loom.com/share/83ca8062de1b402ca4e7526e6362a008?sid=a81cb374-08ac-4c39-935f-d41b6522987f
For my poems I did the following:
I reimagined a poem I wrote after meeting a new doctor in my specialist’s practice. I wrote the first poem in December 2022.
The second poem is a response to my last wellness exam, the summation of which includes some egregious errors. At that appointment I saw a PA. I have frustrations, which show in this poem.
Glenda’s Poems
65 Is the New 45 Still 65
my new doctor— another medical provider i must educate
parent to children older now2, 5, & 10— said he wants to understand aging but can’t, won’t until old age bites his ass
“don’t you know
65 is the new 45?” 65, you’re government oldwhen I observed, complained in longform:“I’m getting old.”
my aching hipslaughed as my
gray hair blinkedas my cataracted
eyes stared quizzicallyinto receding memories. lord, let me die before i’m dementiafiedspanning 64 past years.
he folded the list
chronicling current
medical maladies i’d hoped he’d take seriouslyI’d prepared priorto my wellness check,
slipped it into a folder & so he didn’t have to think about it
checked my heartbeat. and left me to contemplate end times.
—Glenda Funk
December 1, 2022
March 3, 2024 Strikethrough
Your Turn
- Take a favorite recipe such as Alison does in her poem and create a Strikethrough version.
- Compose a new poem or take one you’ve written and reimagine it as a Strikethrough version.
- Find inspiration in another text.
- As always, write as your muse leads you.
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.
I’ve been obsessed with this quote from Warframe.
It was
nottheirforce ofwillnot
their voiddevilrynot
their aliendarknessit was
something elseIt was that somehow, within the derelicthorror, they had learnt tosee within an ugly broken thing, andtake awayit’spainI am touched
by the conceptThat empathy makes an enemy
scarierNathan,
That is a thought-provoking quote. I see why it has captured your attention. I’m a fan of litote and love how saying what something g isn’t forces my mind to work. You chose well in terms of what you crossed out. What’s left is a paradox as much as the last two lines. I really like what you’ve created.
I absolutely love it when someone mentiones video game quotes! There are actually so many profound statements or phrases mentioned in games that most educators or academics miss due to their views on games. Your use of strikethrough in this quote was really good, making a new message based on the words of the original. Fantastic!
Hey Glenda. Sorry for posting late. I loved the prompt & your poem.
Using a quote by Clarissa Pinkola Esté from her book Women Who Run With the Wolves.
I’ve seen women insist on
cleaning everything in the housetaking care of everyonebefore they could
sit down to write…even begin to think about themselves.and you know it’s a funny thing about
housecleaning…being a womanThe drudgery
itnever comes to an end.Perfect way to stop a woman.
A woman must be careful to not allow
over-responsibility (or over-respectabilty)
to steal
her necessary creative rests, riffs, and raptures.her breath, her soul, her purpose.She simply must put her
foot downfeet up whenever she fanciesand say no to
halfeveryone & anyoneof what she believeswho tries to dictate what she “should” be doing.ArtLife is not meant to becreatedlived in stolen moments only.I never made it to this prompt, so just coming back to read through what others wrote! I love this SO much. And I feel so empowered now to “say no to everyone & anyone / who tries to dictate” what I “should” be doing! No dinner tonight, kids! Haha. That last line is fire.
Iamthrilledto be backat work todayafter being on Spring Break.I absolutely love this. The sarcastic take on the prompt has made my day.
🤣🤣🤣
I actually laughed out loud after reading your poem. So many of us probably feel the same sentiment, and you using strikethrough to show that your being sarcastic just made it even funnier. Absolutely fantastic!
College, they say is the
easiesttime of your lifeA ceaseless parade of
friendsand frivolous nights.Just
study a bit,and your set to succeed.Your
futuresecured, with the utmost ease.Booksleftuntouched,as parties call,Sleeping past the alarm.
LecturesunattendedDeadlines are a suggestion, not a guide to your life.Pressure mounts,with nowhere to hide.Social life, a balancing act, sotense.Friendships strain, under academic suspense.Mental healthoften takes the rear seat,In a
race for a diploma, a bittersweet feat.Loved your poem! I really resonated with your poem because college was pretty rough for me, and it does feel like nothing went to show for it after getting my degree (since I’m going back to grad school to get a different one). I’m just happy that I don’t need to experience the other things you mentioned anymore.
Mak,
Apologies for my delayed response. I didn’t see this when I checked the morning of April 29. Anyway, you’ve offered a perfect distillation of the mythology of college life and the reality. Are you at Oklahoma State? My brother? sister-in-law, and niece are all OSU grads. My brother has some good form life stories of his *Aloha Suite* and his time as the dorm social director.
I realize the irony of being an adult posting this, and that not all adults are entitled and feel extra privileged, but this is for the ones who can’t act like actual adults around those of us that are young adults. I have unfortunately had this experience too many times.
Working with Adults
Are you entering a workplace where there are people adults?
Do you need help on how to deal with them from day to day?
We’ve got just the tips for you!
How to Work with Adults 101
The tips list for
Teens and Young Adults Enteringthe WorkforceThey can sense fear.Remain calm.Goldfish, dried fruit, juice boxesloudlyloud enough that they can hear you, but not so loud they think you’re teasing about them being too old to hear properly.your elder.older than you, but still need to treat you with respect.are olderhave more life experience does not mean they know everything.Dear Poets,
Thank you for being here today. Thank you for the many kind comments in support of my prompt and poems. I enjoyed reading your poems and will pop back in Monday to catch those who arrive after the bewitching hour.
Cheers,
Glenda
Title: F*** the Spectrum
I wish I could communicate with people.No, I don’t struggle with social interaction.Not just through texts,or letters,or hastily devised emails,but face to face.People find me easy to talk to.I want to admire their irisesI can make eye contact just fine,as we hold a conversation.I want to talk like real people do.people often tell meWhat a wonderful conversationalist I am.
Mick,
This is a fantastic strikethrough poem, one I know expresses the reality and desires of others on the spectrum. I love your title and think it would be dandy to use *fuck* if you’re so inclined. My favorite grad school English professor often talked about that word as being like all other words, a word w/ meaning derived through cultural constructs. Of course, you can’t use it w/ students, but here is fine. I taught speech as well as English during my long career, and I know exactly what you mean about eye contact. It’s not always easy for me because I have strabismus and have had several eye surgeries to correct it. Lastly, your poem really embodies the spirit of the prompt. Thank you.
Glenda,
Thank you so much for your reply! Your response inspired me to change my title from “F*** the Spectrum” to “
F***Fuck the Spectrum”.Mick, this is such a great poem. I love the multiple ways you have communicated through this piece. I don’t know about the spectrum, but I do know about being an introvert and having a difficult time wanting to converse with people. Right now I’m reading Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking by Susan Cain; I find it to be empowering, like the second poem you write above. And that last crossed out line–so powerful and wrong–I’m glad is struck out
“I want to talk likereal peopledo”Wow!This take on communication with neurodivergences was so relatable. Especially the line about the irises when you’re speaking to people.
Walking
walking through life,
neverknowing where you’re going,or how long it will take to get there.
Finding new people to walk alongside,
on the
shortlong journey of life.Having
peoplecompanionsfriendswalk with you makes it more fun.
You try you’re best,
at finding yourself and what you enjoy,
Its
impossibledifficult to do so,but after many
mistakestrialsYou can find exactly who you are
And what your want to do.
Andrew,
Life really is a journey, and having someone to take those steps w/ us makes all the difference in each step we take along the way. Your poem has me reflecting on the many paths in my own journey and those who have traversed the various paths with me. It’s a lovely way to end this day of poetry.
Andrew, I like the choices of words that you replace in your poem. From the superlatives like never and impossible to the possible adds hope.
Andrew, I really like how you placed your strikethrough words. It took meaning in the sentence, but with it crossed out, our eyes skim pass it. I could not agree with you more about “Walking through life” it really is not easy in society today. I use to think I was the only one that suffered, but at times everyone does.
Thanks for the prompt! This has been one of my favorites so far!
“Hey, how’s everything going?”
Everything is going
terriblygreat!I’m having such a
horriblewonderful day!NothingEverything is going my way!I’m so
tiredhappy I couldcrysing!“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Yes, I’m
notokay!SomethingEverything has gonewrongright!I’m just
tireddandy!EverythingNothing is wrong!“It’s okay to ask for help.”
But I’m
notdoing alright!Everything is
notfine!Please, there is
a needno need to worry!Thanks, but I
dodon’t need any help!Marisa,
I‘m thrilled you like the prompt. Your poem(s) are necessary reminded to listen to the *not said* in conversations w/ friends. So much changes when we change o e word. Well done!
Marisa,
I love your strikethrough poem. I understand feeling like you have to pretend everything is okay, even when you feel like you’re drowning. Great work!
Marisa, your poem reflects the lives of so many. I know most of my students feel that way, and I, too, often hide my inner stress and anxiety behind the smiles, so “I am
notokay” is often a ready response. This is a true strikethrough poem. Hope you feel a little better today.Marisa, wow what a beautiful structured poem. I really like how you mask that everything is wrong but in this poem nothing is wrong. I feel like it really advocates for people that have to mask feelings.
Fromgray cloudscomeblue skiesFromrain showerscome green grassFromheartache and difficultyComeresilianceFrom
theseed,theflowerFrom
theflower,thefruitFrom
thefruit,theseedAs surely asthe sun follows the stormAs thefruit follows flowerJoy follows pain
The hardwillcome andpassSorrow may come forin the nightBut thegold will shimmerin morning’s light.Thank you Glenda, for the prompt and for hosting today. I know, it’s late, and I’m sorry. I am using the April showers/May flowers poem from the other day. I think it works better as a minimal poem than it did before the strikeouts. I have known for a long time that you have a wit with words that is hard to beat. I was not aware of the depth and beauty of your work. THank you for allowing me on this journey with you, and with all of these amazing writers. This month has been a blessing in many ways for me. I think I’ve found a voice that I was pretty convinced no one cared to hear.
Jeania,
You know I like to surprise folks who think they know me. 😉 I’m so happy you’ve found your voice and promise it will get stronger the more you use it. It has been a joy having you here this month. I like the strikeouts you made but also like the original poem. I also like the way reading the pain part creates a duality of meaning depending on where one pauses.
Jeania, both the original and the strikethrough poems are wonderfully crafted. As I read the first one, I find myself slowing down because the prepositions, verbs, and transitional conjunctions reflect the process. The second poem seems to be more dynamic and somewhat snappy, creating a different rhythm. Well done!
I sure am
tiredover this crap!I need to
plan writingstart thinking about me.I
wasam always trying tohave it done early.take care of everyone else.People are dependingA lot is falling on me.It’s not fair.
Were we talkingWhat about my life?What does
thatit all mean?I sure am tired!
Donnetta,
I feel this tiredness in your poem, but I also see that focus on others. I know the women in this community feel that w/ you. I keep thinking about T.S. Eliot’s words: “April is the cruelest month.” It will be over soon, as will the school year. Hang in there.
Donnetta,
YES MA’AM!!! Every word!! The 3rd line has been my hallmark as well, and I think I’m over it!
Donnetta, I can feel how torn you are in this poem. You have to focus on others, but you want to focus on yourself. You can see and feel the struggle in your poem. You’re not alone, and I hope you can get through everything okay. You did a wonderful job with your poem!
I’m back with this poem/letter. I went for a lighter note.
Dear
Mrs. Smith, Most Boring Teacher of the YearI am writing this letter
to apologizefor my recent behavior in your class. because my parents made me.I understand that my actions were
inappropriate and disrespectful, really funny and made the class laugh.and I take full responsibility for my behavior.
I want to express
my sincere apologiesand assure you that it will not happen again. how happy I am to be class clown!I realize that my actions were
a violationof the classroom rules and expectations. much more exciting than your lessons.I understand the
seriousnessof my actions sillinessand the impact they have had on my classmates.
I am committed to making sure
that it
does nothappen(s) again (and again) in the future.I will work hard to regain your trust.
Please accept my apologies once again… but you are STILL the Most Boring Teacher of the Year!
Sincerely,
Your student
Joanne,
OMG! You have me in stitches. My husband enjoyed this, too. Of course I had to read it to him. I’ve seen his Shakespeare work. LOL! Writing from the point of view of the student is genius. Those fake apologies are such a waste of a teacher’s time. I prefer the authentic student voice, which you have captured beautifully. Of course Class Clown will make
“sure
that it
does nothappen(s) again (and again) in the future.”Still laughing after multiple readings. Do read Staci’s and Stefani’s poems. Y’all have created a new genre!
Joanne, your piece is hilarious! Your brutal honesty makes your piece humorous. It is also relatable to students (troublemakers or not) who wish they could say the truth to their teachers. You did a great job!
Joanne, what a wonderful strikethrough poem. This was so fun to read both ways. Haha! “Dear Most Boring Teacher of the Year” just cracked me up, and it continued throughout. Well done!
Joanne, I like how you reimagined this poem adding what the student’s sincere words might be. So true! In this context, “I take full responsibility for my behavior” sounds like slap in the face. As funny as the poem reads, I just want to hug all teachers at this point of the year. Thank you for this gem!
Glenda – Your prompt is so unique and creative. Your poem made me say, “Ouch,” and nod my head in agreement. I’ve been there, but also with female doctors. I’m not sure it’s as much a male thing as a doctor with no bedside manner/empathy thing. I’m sorry you had that experience. I’ve been away today, but will ponder this prompt and hopefully come up with a poem!
Glenda, your poems are amazing! I loved the first one (all the snark) and the second one had me laughing aloud. So, so true. My computer battery died and I was hoping to be able to get back to this later today because trying strikethrough on the phone seemed undoable. Alas, it was not meant to be, but I’m aiming to have a go at this later when I’m back up and running. Thank you for sharing your writing and prompt today!
Glenda, This is a great prompt. I don’t have the mental capacity to work on it tonight, though. I will definitely come back to it. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.
Friendship Etheree
By Mo Daley 4/28/24
I
Feel so
Lucky to
Have friends who have
Loved me for forty-
Some years and can still find
Interesting things to talk
About, stories to reminisce
About ss we enter our golden
Years, all together, kicking and screaming
Mo,
I know this prompt is a heavy lift. Imagine how my students fared year after year. LOL! Anyway, you know where to find me when you get a chance to give the prompt a test run. That said, I do like your etheree and wish I could see those friends more often and wish so many had not already cast off their earthly coil.
Mo, this works this week with all the prompts we’ve had to reflect on the past. So, top of the week with an Etheree about friends.
My favorite line
“Years, all together, kicking and screaming.”
I could used this poem at the birthday party for my brother yesterday. 🙂 I’d only have had to strike out two words. The relationship word and the number of years word. I won’t put the second one here, ’cause then folks will guess how old I MAY be. 🙂
Thanks for sharing this poem, today.
Mo, you must have had a great day or weekend with these gemlike friends. Lovely. It is fun to have old stories with old friends. What is fun here, though, is the surprise at the end that in your golden years you’ll be “all together, kicking and screaming” That makes me smile.
Thank you, Glenda! My ‘muse’ was messing with me today; trying to process some terrible news about a loved one.
Maybe It’s An Irish Catholic Thing
It
is so wonderful to hearheisdoing sovery
well(I’m not supposed to know howhardthings are; I haveto
pretend I don’t know about his addiction issues)Icarrya smile on my face thoughmy heart isheavygenerations ofsecretspeople livingwhiledyingIf only we werewalkingtogetheropening up toone anotherthere’d be no need foreggshellsWait, is that a cracking sound?
Maureen,
Im so sorry to hear you’re burdened by family news. I’m holding you in my thoughts. You’ve done a spectacular job imagining a strikethrough poem. Your two poems are so different from one another. Is that a cross before “carry”? It looks as though it might be upside down. It really is difficult to know how to be around those w/ addictions, especially those we love. Hugs to you, my friend.
Wow, Maureen. You’ve tackled such difficult topic so beautifully. I feel your pain in your writing today. I’m sorry this is such a difficult time for you. Hugs.
Maureen,
My heart aches as this one hits close to home. My son is celebrating 3 3/4 years of sobriety and is a sponsor for some who are going through the process of becoming clean. He talks about how secrets are so much a part of the addiction. Your poem with and without the strikethroughs carry the weight you’re feeling and I wish I could take some of it off your shoulders.
I love that you recognize that carrying secrets while walking on eggshells is hard. Eventually, they’ll break and the truth will set the person free.
Hugs.🤗
I am using one of my favorite gritty poems from last year’s Verse Love–a poker camp with death.
Death sits across from me
Death sits
across from mefar away from meMy strong hands
Gritty bonesholding cardsStaring acrossElbows resting on the tableAs I lay down my chips
Time to ante up
What risk will this be?A cocky smirk emerges on my faceA friend to my left
Folded.GrinningOutEven though they’re out of the game.*a poker game–forgive my typo!
Ashley, I enjoyed your poem. I did think, “she might be discussing a card game…” Your words perfectly described a low-key stress situation. I love ” A cocky smirk emerges on my face” and your title is perfect! thanks
Ashley,
I remember this poem! It is gritty, and those final lines are bone chilling!
“A friend to my left
Folded.GrinningOutEven though they’re out of the game.”We’re all in this game until we fold. I enjoyed this poetic memory and your reimagining of a poem from last year. Thank you.
“Gritty bones” gives a gritty chill!
Glenda,
Your experience with the medical world is maddening and you document it so well through your writing! This strikethrough poem was a real challenge for me. I’m looking forward to reading the others!
I thought your poem was really funny, especially all the Rob Lowe parts. It captures that ongoing to-do list that we tend to keep in our minds throughout the day. Great job!
Susan, this is great! I completely relate (well, maybe not exactly the Rob Lowe parts, but 100% to the piles of laundry on the bed and the sit down to write a poem part). The recurring phrases and slight alterations to the phrases that anchor your poem are funny and remind me of a blues poem in the way they pace and ground the poem.
Susan,
Does Rob Lowe know? Does your husband know? I might have to read that book if it’s that much of an escape from cooking and laundry! I do love the way this poem isn’t about RL or the book! LOL. The physical appearance of it is a perfect visual stretching of the imagination. Fin poem, Thank you,
Susan, haha! So fun! I think a to do list-strikeout poem is perfect. I love how we get to see the details of your day, especially with all the fun Rob Lowe items! This was a challenge, but I like how yours turned out.
I am smiling about your day musing about Rob Lowe. Now, he’s on my mind, too!
Susan,
What a clever approach! I love this so much because I feel validated when I had all these ideas about how today would go and then it didn’t quite happen. I think writing about the day I thought I would have would be a fun option I would want to try at a later time.
I’m glad you enjoyed your day and created an even better
strikethroughpoem!For old times’ sake, we say as we yearn for the time, the place,
the person we used to know or used to be.We eat the food
they used to makethat makes us remember the times we had.We play the games
they used to playto feel the joy we used to feel.We watch the movies
they used to watchthat comforted the childwe used to be that used to sit on th…
But now it’s just a movie to laugh at and mock and think “how silly,”
while inside a piece of you mourns and cries rememberingFor old times’ sake,
We repeat stories of the good times
that, when they happened were just ‘times,’We talk about the people who are now gone and wonder what ever happened to them
and whether we would like the person they are nowFor old times’ sake,
We listen to the music we used to play every day during that specific time at that specific time at that specific place,
But now it’s just music that makes us cringe
at the people we used to knowThe places we used to live and play and workAnd the person that lived the lifeThat is now only referred to in conversations
Started with the phrase
For old times’ sake.
Em,
I read it once without the strikes and once with, and find such beautiful stories in the tense. From used to make to that makes. From used to play into feel the joy. The mourning is in thee tense so softly.
Sarah
Em,
Im drawn to the magical way your poem moves from the past into the present through strikethroughs. Theres such a loving re
nostalgic tone until near the end when you say, “But now…” and following. This reminds me of Nick in the Great Gatsby saying the people who once fascinated him no longer have that effect. Experience changes the way we see the world, especially the past. Great strikethrough poem.
I am drawn to “the movies that comforted the child” and “
while inside a piece of you mourns and cries remembering”I find this so beautiful!Glenda,
Thanks for hosting, prompting and for your clever poem. I hope you found some catharsis in writing it and that you find a more caring doctor.
Hear! Hear!
Looking forward to trying this prompt out again another time, revising a poem of my own or modifying someone else’s. Grateful that the prompt helped me revise my thinking today.
Practice
After Jenn’s yoga class
Strikethrough the frustration of expectations
Strikethrough the intellectualisation of your experience
Sink into your body on a cellular level
Sharon,
Your poem certainly captures the spirit of the prompt and of a yoga *practice* even w/out the literal strikethroughs. We all know the tendency to compare ourselves to the yogi who can twist their body into every pose.
Sink into your body on a cellular level – love that!
Sharon, it’s like you read my mind tonight. This is the poem I wanted to write. Love it!
Goodfellas Spaghetti and Meatballs-recipe by Iron Chef Alex Guarnaschelli
I love this dish so I fix it about every 3 weeks.
Goodfellas sauce
2 T of extra virgin olive oil
2 medium yellow onions, halved and sliced
5 garlic cloves
kosher salt
1 tsp. sugar
1 tsp. dried oregano
1 28 oz can of peeled whole tomatoes, with their juices
1/2 cup of fresh basil leaves
Make the sauce
Goodfellas meatballs
1 lb. of ground beef
1/2 cup of panko breadcrumbs, toasted
1/2 finely grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
kosher salt
1/4 tsp red pepper flakes
1 large egg lightly beaten
1/2 cup olive oil
Make the meatballs and cook them in separately in a skillet until brown on the outside but pink in the middle.
Later put the meatballs into the sauce and cook until finished.
To finish
kosher salt
12 oz. spaghetti noodles
1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese
Cook the noodles in hot boiling water.
Fix this dish on a weekend, when you have 2 hours, a glass of something to drink, and your favorite music playing.
If you’re cooking this after teaching all day, try this:
Goodfellas sauce
2 T of extra virgin olive oil
2 medium yellow onions, halved and slicedbuy them already cut up5 garlic clovesthey sell garlic in a jar already dicedkosher salt
1 tsp. sugar
1 tsp. dried oregano
1 28 oz can of peeled whole tomatoes, with their juicesbuy a jar of spaghetti sauce1/2 cup of fresh basil leaves
Throw everything into a pot and turn the fire up to medium.
Goodfellas meatballs
1 lb. of ground beef1/2 cup of panko breadcrumbs, toasted1/2 finely grated Parmesan cheese1/2 cup chopped fresh parsleykosher salt1/4 tsp red pepper flakes1 large egg lightly beaten1/2 cup olive oilBuy fresh frozen meatballs already made and cooked. They usually have beef
or ground turkey ones available.
Throw everything into a big pot and let it cook on low while you relax, grade a FEW papers, exercise, check in with your family, or just listen to the silence.
By Seana Hurd Wright
Ha ha ha!!! Clever, chef Seana! If I were a meatballs fan, I would definitely go with your recipe!
💜
Seana,
Okay, I love this recipe revision and the way it tells the world how the lives of busy teachers are. I know how to cook and do a pretty good job of it, but for me it’s a utilitarian activity, one I perform because I love to eat. That recipe sounds so good, however, that I think I need to try it.
Seana, I love your version! It sounds as delicious as the other recipe, but much more appropriate for a busy teacher. I love the “grade a FEW papers” and all the other busy and peaceful time fillers while it cooks.
Seana,
I love how clever your approach is, and I wish I could have thought of something like this!
Your shortcuts make me smile – especially, “Buy fresh frozen meatballs already made and cooked.” I bet the dinner was quite yum, nevertheless!!
Seana – this is how I make spaghetti! How did you know? Busy teachers – quick cooks! A delightful read! Thank you!
Left-over Pizza
It is rare.
Heated or cold
I don’t care.
But he insistsThe toaster overIs the only wayThat to ignoreThis mandateInsults his craftBut when he isNot home, I takea cold bite and
nuke the rest
while I chew.
I don’t have
time for ovens.
I can’t imagine spending time with a toaster oven to reheat pizza! I’m with you!
Sarah,
This is delightful and insightful, one of those marital moments that confounds since both hot and cold pizza are a matter of taste. Does a microwave count as an acceptable way to reheat pizza?
I am with him today, Sarah )) I do understand there is no time to spend on reheating a slice of left-over pizza. The words you stroke through “But when he is not home” sound a bit mischievous and remind me of some things I would do as a child when parents weren’t at home.
Sarah, perfect! I’m with you–Pizza, hot cold nuked or oven–it’s all the best! My mouth is watering while I read your poem.
Sarah,
This made me giggle. I am someone who always preheats the oven to bring my pizza back to life while my partner happily munches on cold pizza straight from the box much to my dismay.
Ha! I love “I take/a cold bite” – he doesn’t need to know.
I’m with you too – cold pizza over reheated. Nuke – NO! Too chewy for me!
Omg does everyone say nuke? I thought it was just my mom. Cool! It’s either cold or oven (air fryer) for me. No microwaving allowed LOL!! Fun poem.
Thanks, Glenda, for another way to honor my upbringing in a fresh, new way. My strikethroughs are what the speaker may be thinking, words she knows she must not verbalize.
Why Do You Care?
You better just sit down
and shut upWho you telling to be quiet?
You. You talk before you think.
I think you’re off there.Anyway, why do you care?
You know what I mean
Don’t be making a scene.This your family
you’re making look badYou want Grammamma to be happy
not sad.Okay, Okay, I’ll do what you say
And not because you say it that wayGrammamma says we must be good
Doing what we know we should
So, let’s do what we would if she were here
Okay, I will,
but don’t you cheerIt’s Grammamma’s disappointment I fear
I know you’re being sincereHer teachings linger on
Don’t you hear them in that song?
Anna,
“Okay, Okay, I’ll do what you say
And not because you say it that way”channels what most grandchildren think at one time or another, I think. You have me thinking about some long ago conversations w/ my grandma. Thanks for sparking memories.
Anna, this is so great with all the punctuation and strikes. These struck phrases echo truths, explicitly, direct, not entirely unkind in the “look bad” and “making a scene.” There is perspective there we cannot see that she’s not there to say…yes, wisdom can linger if we listen.
Sarah
Anna,
Everything about this screams the conversations that I may (or may not) have had in my own mind growing up. The line “Grandmamma says we must be good” resonates with me today. My mom was and still is my internal guide.
Oh, Glenda,
Thank you for hosting us today, and for your gentle and careful care you always take of us as writers. There is an infinite amount of source material to write poems like this with, and you gave two good examples with your own poem and the doctor’s notes. Those were great, as was the recipe example of Alison Lubar. The changes you made to your poem were great. How you listed the body parts, hips, hair, eyes matter-of-factly. And this: “
intoreceding memories. lord, let me die before i’m dementiafied” So powerful! I agree with that prayer.This was a fun puzzler for me this morning. I took a poem I wrote last week with Stacey’s prompt. It includes a shout out to Jennifer because I added to my poem today a line from her comment last week.
For
GrandmaMomI’ve been writing this since
I was
six years oldbornand weyoung ones had to climband you had to handle
intothe brokenness of lifewithreally without a partnerwindowto unlock the door to get allinto the house where the birdshad taken up residencethen after Dad died you
became the go-to giver,
of all things for Grandma,
one being to restore
the bird and rodent infested
old homestead
for her.
I’ve been writing this since
that
househomestead Grandpabuilt in the 40s became your home
after Grandma died in the 80s
and that kitchen where she used to cook
became where you cooked,
we watched you makepopovers being just one of your masterpieces–
you gently beating the eggs and milkand stirring in the flouruntil just moistened.I’ve been writing this since
your index finger spatula-edout every last bit of the batteryou poured the popover batter
into the mismatched custard cups
not caring about wasting that last bit
(a clapback at the not-so-great Depression
of your childhood, perhaps)
and baked them for what seemed
(to my children) like hours
at two different temperatures
I’ve been writing this since
those popovers, with their custardy
interiors and crispy toasted outsides,
came
out of the oveninto the history of a new generation
who broke them open and enjoyed
and addedhoneyor boysenberry jamor syrupthe steam rising as honey drizzled
and boysenberry jam glopped
thank you, JenniferandWe ate our fillon those
slowmoving much fasterdeserty mornings
at
Grandma’s housethen your houseI’ve been writing this since
I found those old custard cupshigh on a shelf in Lori’s laundry roomand she welcomed me to takethem home, and now I’mI became the grandma who bakes popovers
in the desert. And you
would be gladwouldn’t care at all
to hearthat I’ve got
yourGrandma’s magic spatula
finger so I don’t waste a drop
Denise,
Isn’t it amazing what strikeouts bring into relief? In your new poem I noticed the centering of your grandmother, but in the original poem I noticed the speaker as observer. I love the comparison. There’s still that full circle nostalgia, but this shift in focus is so illuminating. And thank you for those kind comments. All the poems are enriching my Sunday. I do hope you’ll write another strikeout poem using the popover recipe. I think that would be fun to read.
Full circle, indeed. This is so lovely, Denise. Is it wrong I want a popover now?
Oh Denise – I loved the original poem, the imagery and the story. The strikethrough puts all the most important things in the limelight. Now – I think I’ll go back and strike through some of my poems!
Denise, amaaaazing! I am in awe at how well it worked this time around and took on a different perspective and vibe! The ending is priceless!
I remember your last week’s poem, Denise! I loved it then, and I love what you did with a strikethrough. Beautiful! I also looked at mine for this purpose and did it for myself, but couldn’t post. It made me too sad.
Glenda, thank you for the opportunity to respond to a parent the way I wish I could have last week. I love this idea. It wasn’t as easy as my mind expected but I think I made my poem make sense. This was fun! I feel relieved. LOL!
Your poem regarding your doctor’s appointment hits home. I am frustrated with my doctor as well and I’m starting to wonder if I need to look for additional health care outside of my provider’s network. Thank you, again!
Teacher-TiredLetter to a ParentGood evening, Mr. and Mrs.
PainInMyAssI received your response
Regarding
LittlePain’s,your son’s, behaviorI’m not sure if you realize
My watching him and redirecting him
Are examples of a teacher who cares
You said he feels
targetedAnd thathis classmates see himas a loserI am not responsible forHow he feels about his classmatesI am responsible for helping him
Develop organizational skills
Like not storing trashin his backpackSo that you will be able to read
The school and classroom flyers and
Order 5th grade promotion pictures
And respond to the graded papers
I’ve taken hours to prepare for you.You have opted to send
LittePain,your sonTo a very prestigious and expensive
Private French school for next year
Good luck! Bonne chance!Do you thinkthe teachersWill understand why he
just sitsAnddoesn’trespond to directionsKnow
that you will appreciate meAndall I tried to teach him next year.It won’t be a surprise to you, them, or me.©Stacey L. Joy, April 28, 2024
Stacey,
LOL! I love your original poem to LittlePain’s parents who are clearly in the *not my child* cult. I read both your poems to Ken and he howled. I think derp in his could he once thought I was the only teacher who rants about kids and parents like Mr. & Mrs. Pain. I’m so thrilled you wrote this and that you found catharsis in writing it. Love it!
Brilliantly crafted, Stacey….loving the crossing out of
“Little Pain”,as you deliver an absolute treasure to us today!This is brilliant, Stacey. Looking forward to writing one of my own next time I’m faced with a similar situation. I might have to go back and rewrite some of the emails I’ve had to write to one parent this spring just to have some catharsis and find the humor in the situation.
I share your delight in expressing the truths you’ve been holding back and then the shifting to the restraint of professionalism.
Thanks for sharing and inspiring.
Stacey, you had me at Mr and Mrs PainInMyAss, lmao!!! And it got better from there. “Good luck! Bonne Chance!” made me lauh out loud, and the ending was great!
Oh, my, Stacey. That’s so awesome. I cracked up at all the strikethroughs. We have to do some of that strikethrough in our writing and speaking, don’t we? “
Good luck! Bonne chance!”Yes, they will learn and appreciate your efforts.So much truth here in what is expressed with and without strikes. Teachers must navigate the parent terrain so carefully and yet what might happen if we could say it straight. How liberating for us all.
Oh, Stacey! There is so much both said and “unsaid” in this letter/poem. I wish we could be that upfront and transparent with parents.
Enjoyed this so much! I took the tack of the student writing “an apology” to the teacher. I think our poems go so well together!
Glenda, this is a great prompt! I’ve never seen this form before. Your poems–the original and the new poem are brilliant and necessary.
I took a hack at a poem from earlier this month and, well, the results were maybe a little too harsh, lol, so I went back into the archives and grabbed this one about writing poems to reflect on writing songs and how that process fits in my life (or sort of squeezes in).
When I
poemget a beatWhen I
poemget a beatit sits in my inbox and festers
I
force myself toswallowdelay and delay overthe fear of the
blank page–you can’t do this.
you’re too old. you have nothing to
say.
The cursor blinkingWhen I finallyopen the attachment and listen,
the beat pulses
faker faker faker faker…
when I
poemget a beatI chase the
ghosts of
writing workshopsmy childhoodwhere I
showed up asnever fit in,the
dudewhite boy who wrote rapsand didn’t know what
enjambmentappropriationmeant.
When I
poemwrite to the beat i’m not gradingand i hate grading yet the guilt of
ungraded assignments follows like a shadow
and I
should be gradingthink grades area poor substitute for conversations
butsoI’d ratherpoem.I write these songs instead.cuzSharing apoemsong witha
studentclass is somuch betterthan sharing a gradestrangewhich doesn’t meananything anywayand does it meananything anyway? as they listen quietly
and I stain the armpits of my
shirt with anxious perspiration
(andtheyneverrarelyread themake commentsthat take forever…)but
theyIwilllistento the poemwhen they do,hoping my vulnerability was a teachable moment.
Dave, so many are with you this morning as you declare: “and i hate grading yet the guilt of
ungraded assignments follows like a shadow.” This is our sad reality, and the administration wants these grades to be in regularly. I also wish we could assess the individual student’s growth instead of assuming the entire class is at the same level in the beginning of the course. I like the poem you chose to revise The ending lines show that in the moments your studnets listen to your song, you exchange places, it makes you vulnerable. I experience the same when sharing my writing with my college studnets, some of them are creative writers, and it’s a bit intimidating, to say the least. Thank you!
Dave,
I don’t k ow what you abandoned, obviously, but I love what you e offered here. I see several new poems that could be stand alone verses, but the words that really speak to me are
“you can’t do this.
you’re too old. you have nothing to
say.”
As one who began writing g poetry in 2018, these words have rattled around my head the past six years. Also, I’m sure you know about Sarah’s YA project. She requests poems around 20 lines, so if you’re inclined to edit this further, consider sending it to her.
Absolutely love the messages here. Vulnerability in the classroom is courageous! And don’t you hate grading and being haunted but ungraded assignments?
Dave,
Absolutely love your ending and the
parallelsdifferences betweengradingconversing and sharing poetry.I’ve also felt the “anxious perspiration” of sharing writing with students. It absolutely is a teachable moment—for both teacher and students.
Glenda, your prompt is a fun way to revisit some poems. I like how realistic you are “65
Is the New 45Still 65.” I feel that with every passing year the age is catching up with my unsettled nature. I used to think that I’d never be older than 25.This “lord,
let me die before i’m dementiafied” is my prayer as well. Both of my parents had signs during
their final weeks, and it was so painful to see them deteriorate so quickly.
“MyChart Patient Update” with your
interpretation, especially the note of the 21st century life support, channel
your frustrations.
I will try to do a more thoughtful one later today if I have any juice left. I am revising a chapter for a book, and in it I used two simple poems to introduce poetry to my eighth-graders about 15 years ago. So I thought I’d strike through some words in those poems to give it a start. It could also be a good exercise for students to notice what words belong,
don’t belong, or could be replaced.I added a couple new words in italics in parenthesis.
I FeelSadI see you
rpicture on my desk,Taking me tofond memoriesWe sharedtogether.I knowyour presence in my lifeWasa generous giftAnyone would behappy to have.I rememberyour smile,And the wayyour mouth curled upwardWhen you brought me(better than) flowers.I readthe words of comfortThat aremeant to heal me,But theymake me cry.I feel sad.I AmAnxious (but Hopeful)I am anxious:
Worries
swirling in my mind,Clinging to me likea heavy cloak after the storm.I am anxious:The world’s unrest
, injustice, and hatredPull me toa breaking point.I am anxious:My heart aches
for thoseWhosuffer(s) and cry(ies).I am anxious,ButI pushforward and face(through) realityI will(to) see a new dayand anew hope.Leilya,
Your note touches on an exercise I’ve used w/ students: having them delete all unnecessary words. This is an excellent way to teach concision in writing. I love both your poems, but the first is my favorite. The last verse is something g I think about often:
“
I readthe words of comfortThat aremeant to heal me,But theymake me cry.”
So often we try to fix grief others experience when the best course of action is simply being present. Your strikeouts bring this idea into relief.
Leilya,
what a beautiful poem of love and grief. Thank you for sharing.
This stanza especially resonated with me:
Leilya, the pain of photos and memories is so real, and I feel it in your words. The greatest sources of comfort are, too, the greatest sources of discomfort sometimes. Grief is a deep, dark hole – – and your poem captures the emotions so well. All the best poems, I am convinced, are those that get the emotions stirring, and yours does today.
Leilya,
These are both haunting and beautifully done. How much you say in so few words is inspiring!
Oh, I like this Leilya. Such a good idea. Taking out all the words that can go without being said. In the second poem, I like the theme of anxious but hopeful. It is a good place to be during stressful times.
I’m not sure what I stumbled upon but I’m getting some serious
Film Noir vibes here, with its cynical characters, its stark lighting effects,
frequent use of flashbacks, and underlying Existentialist philosophy
or to go back, I wanted to write a poem based on the back copy of Kellogg’s
new cereal Extra, I thought I could strike out certain words and phrases
(but not very many, mind you) to change it into some Sapphic or Catullian
Love Poem, I mean, come on, with words like
“Extra indulgent”
“Extra dreamy”
“Extra luscious”
(who describes a cereal as “Luscious”? Kellogg’s, that’s who)
and let’s not forget this last bit of text: “Experience an extra delicious moment of pure
delight from the first bite to the last.”
This research led me to a boycott of Kellogg’s – not because of their salacious
ad copy – but because their new ad claims that you should be able to eat cereal
all the time at any time of day
those monsters, amirite? kidding
what’s the BFD over breakfast for dinner
don’t people do that all the time
is this invented outrage? aren’t there real, legit outrageous things
happening in this world of ours – this fetid petri dish of a world of ours
you know, things to actually be outraged about
but then I read some of the reviews on their site and my mind was blown
now, I’m not a conspiracy nut, not a follower of QAnon or the Illuminati or
the Nasdaq, but I think there is something real, something insidious,
something real insidious happening here
Look, I think Raymond Chandler said it best, “Dead men are heavier than broken hearts.”
but that doesn’t have anything to do with this so I’ll just let that go
for now
(See? ominous)
Let me just say,
I’m clack clacking away
at this keyboard looking
for answers trying to
understand this mug
of a life, like a prize fighter
who just went seven rounds
with himself and kept punching
and spitting out teeth
because he likes the clink
the enamel makes on
the hardwood floors,
oh, yes, these woods are
hard and wood, and
the sun is low, it’s dark in
here and all the shadows
are as sharp as knives,
no, all the shadows have
knives, they’re as sharp
as knives and they’re
wielding knives
Maybe I could just turn on the lights,
Ah, that’s better.
Where was I? Incentivized reviews, oh right, the femme fatales of the cereal world,
How can they be trusted (and why do these people keep taking pictures of the box
and their bowls of cereal)
this is big business, I realize now, exposing this seedy underbelly of crispy almondy goodness
what follows are actual reviews posted to the site, and I think you’ll see what I see when you look through your eyes at the cold hard screen of your computer monitor, the flicker rate so calming, so calming that you are pulled toward the big sleep
Oh, brother, just take a look
“2 months ago
I really like this cereal. It was crunchy, had big clusters and was delicious! Before I could snap a picture, my boys ate it all. Now I need to go out and buy more. I recommend trying this yummy cereal.”
Does this cereal somehow tap into addiction (or aggression?) for the male of the species?
“2 months ago
He loved it. I wasn’t able to get a picture of the box because my brother got the the box before I did. He raved about it. He said it has lots of oats and honey goodness. The chunks were a great size. The cereal did not get soggy. 10 out of 10. Recommended”
Who is the “he”? Is it the “brother”? I do not know, yet I am intrigued. He “raved about it” and “said it has lots of oats and honey goodness.” This is hearsay and wouldn’t stand up in any court of law. Why didn’t the “brother” write the review? Perhaps there is no “brother.”
“3 months ago
As soon as the box arrived, it was gone. We fought for the box, lol. It was great with milk, warmed up like oatmeal and my favorite with yogurt. It’s already on my list I just hope it comes in a much larger box!”
Definitely causes aggression in test subjects and apparently a voracious all-consuming appetite.
“2 months ago
Kellogg’s Almond Granola Cereal is well-loved for its tasty blend of flavors. The crunch and sweetness from the almonds make it a delightful choice for breakfast. Its versatility allows it to be enjoyed with yogurt or milk.”
And there’s your ChatGPT review. I think Chandler said it best, I believe this ad as much as I believe bullets fall like rain in a swimming pool on a hot summer day
and believe you me
I’d like to end this
poem pastiche
this mixed-up
Mash-up of crime
noir and research
field guide
right here and now
but i’m afraid of turning
down the computer
afraid of those shadows
the ones that are as
sharp as knives
while also holding
knives and it looks
like those knives
have knives
If you get my point?
Oh, right,
yeah,I already established
thatthe light was on.Sorry.
I guess I can just
end this
thingnow
__________________________________________
Glenda, please accept my apologies, lol, I don’t know what happened. I had every intention of doing an honest-to-goodness
strikethroughpoem, but things turned dicey fast and got derailed, like a freight train speeding through this labyrinth of a city that never sleeps barreling headlong, hell-bent….see? See what I mean? (And if you’re interested in visiting this darker side of the web and picking up the trail of these weird cereal consumer reviews, you can find them here at the Kellogg’s site.)Omg Scott, I laughed out loud (not lol) at this: “Why didn’t the ‘brother’ write the review? Perhaps there is no ‘brother.’” And my husband looked at me crazy and I attempted to explain but then just settled with looking crazy. Thanks for the laugh, as always.
Scott, this poem could be the researcher notes for Kellogg’s related investigation project. I laughed, I smirked, I was surprised–and it distracted me from my personal concerns at the moment. Great way to begin Sunday with Kellogg’s. Wait, I’m currently on Post’s Honey Bunches of Oats, which actually doesn’t have any Sapphic or Catullian motives, but offers kids some engaging (educational) activities on the back. Anyway, I saw at least three poems within this one, and they all have their distinct features. Thank you for this poem and your support yesterday!
Scott,
First, I appreciate your comment below acknowledging the struggles women face when dealing w/ the medical community. The more men know understand, the more likely change will come for young women.
Regarding your *poem*: I know what happened. Let’s face facts: When you’re not feeling the prompt you chase whatever captures your mind in the moment, which is fine and why every host invites folks to write what they want, as you did. Your meanderings remind me of a blog post I’ve had in the wings titled Cereal Killer. I’m not much of a cold cereal fan and think of it as breakfast junk food, an idea you capture in places. I might play around w/ your offering here when time allows and see what a strikeout might produce. Cheers!
Glenda, your poems echo the frustrations I’ve heard from my wife and my female colleagues as well about “the care” they’ve received from some male doctors. It’s truly unbelievable. And it makes me wonder if some really think — and I sadly think I know the answer to this — what you so aptly wrote in your second poem that they believe they really do “have more important male patients to attend.”
Dear Student,
In response to your question
sent one hour before it was dueYou can use the search functionOn the syllabus, with links to find the directionsSee assignment details in the LMSLook at the example and screencast providedAsk a peer, Chat, Snap, or InstaRead previous emailsRevisit your notes from the classWatchSnoop’sreminderStart your assignment prior to it’s due dateDon’t expect an immediate response to emailsMaybe Google or ChatGPT can outline the directionsHere is what is needed to be successful:
With
no facetious intentregards,Your
patientprofessorGlenda, thank you for hosting and walking us through this process. Your use of 21st century life support is a great descriptor for prescriptions.
To any of my students participating in #verselove today, don’t read the strikethroughs 🙂
Love it, Stefani B. Fascinating how universal the
strikethroughsare in this profession. Wondering if such. poem should not be attached to course syllabi…They’d still find a way to screw around with the course’s intentions.Brilliant.
Stefani, this is so relatable. I deal with this every single day, especially at the end of the semester. yesterday, two of my studnets claimed the Forums were closed, and they didn’t have a chance to post even after the extension. I patiently emailed back with an explanation and a link. One of them responded with an apology of being inattentive, and I am grateful for that.
The bottom line is: read, write, submit. We don’t ask too much.
Stefani,
I love everything about your poem. I read it to my husband, beginning w/ the poem remaining after the strikeouts. He wanted me to tell you how much he loves both poems. You have channeled every teacher’s thoughts, and telling your students not to read the strikeouts is a sure fire way to get them to read them. LOL. Definitely send this to Sarah for her YA project. Thank you. This made my day!
Stef! OMG, I remember when my daughter went to orientation for college and they told the parents not to try to email professors to ask for grade changes or to make excuses for late work. I laughed because I couldn’t imagine such a thing! This was before technology was a permanent fixture in our children’s lives. Now, I am sure that this is a thing. I hope parents don’t do this but I am eager to know if they do. Students yes, but please tell me parents don’t reach out to you.
I love this whole thing, strikethroughs read and received!
Every word, every line, every strikethrough is letter perfect, Stefani! And I love “
patient” in your closing! Lol, yep, the ends of semesters will do that. Thanks for this!This is gold, Stefani! Sometimes I find myself overexplaining in emails to a kid or a parent when the bottom line is often what is needed and more effective.
Stefani – I enjoyed this strikeout poem from the POV of the Professor. I wrote one from the POV of the student. They go so well together!
Glenda, once again you offer us a magnificent prompt. I love the idea of reviewing my poems to strikeout words. I first chose a document from the New York Times, and I like it, but then I thought to look again and found this poem. I think I would change the title though. Your two poems offer an insightful view of the problems encountered with health care providers and ageism. “My aching hips” and “not dead yet” resonated for me. You have been a generous contributor this month sharing compelling poems and generous comments. (I’ll be traveling and attending family events today so excuse my absence.) I appreciate your efforts, Glenda!
Selfless Love
she
longed forloveda family full of joymarrieda wild manwho
loved the party more than hershe raised her chickswho flew
the cooptoo soonalone
, she pampers herselfBarb Edler
28 April 2024
Barb, you’ve created a great dichotomy of this woman depending on how it is read. Enjoy your family events today and thank you for sharing.
Barb,
Thank you for your kind words. You are a steadfast source of inspiration, and your amazing poems push me to work on my skills. Once again you’ve offered a brilliant, concise poem that reveals the complications of life: falling in love, raising children, all the emotions that deep into life. Your poem is an echo of Margaret’s. The strikeouts in the opening lines reveal so much:
“she
longed forloveda family full of joymarrieda wild man”How much simpler would life be w/out such men, I wonder. I think many of us choose wild men because of those family longings. Wonderful poem.
Barb, enjoy your Sunday with a family! Love the poem you submitted today. Both versions present interesting perspective of “selfless love.” I like the words you left after striking through.
Barb, so much in so few lines!
A close friend told me her ex-husband left her after 20 years of marriage because he said he wanted to feel like he was walking in the tulips! What on earth?
Your poem is heartbreaking.
Oh, Barb. What a life story in these few lines…I’ve read the non-strikethroughs several times and want to console this woman. I want to know if she has found peace now after having loved the wild man, or if “alone” is too lonely… your poem stirs many emotions.
Barb, the narrative here is painful – the men who leave, who can’t get the wild side tamed. I love the metaphor to chicks and flying the coop. Your poem tells a story of a family that many of us know.
Glenda, from one 65 year old to another – I know this all too well. Ugh – I think this is just the beginning. You so aptly captured my feelings about doctors visits I thought you were writing about me!
i took a verse I penned the other day and created a strike an write poem, changing it from thoughts about the written word to the spoken word. The challenge for me today was finding the right poem.
Careful Words
Why is it
some days
words come tumbling
out of
the brainmy mouthonto the pagewithout any
effort at allthought or care,hurting those I love
the most.
While other days
words bounce and
swirl around
in the brain
willy-nilly,nevermakingany sensecertain that Iunable toproducea cohesive thought
?-ful response.Christine, ouch! I hate those moments when I say something that I realize wasn’t careful enough. Words “tumbling” “hurting” and “swirl” all provide a wonderful emphasis to the action of words “without thought or care” can hurt the people we love the most. It’s too bad we can’t have an edit mode when speaking. Compelling poem.
Christine, I like your play on words, punctuation, and strikethrough in the last line. Thank you for sharing today.
Christine,
Regards feeling as though a poem is about you: Back at you, poet friend. You described me perfectly w/ those first lines:
“Why is it
some days
words come tumbling
out of
the brainmy mouthonto the pagewithout any
effort at allthought or care,”All of your poem is one that could be specific to me. Love it!
Christine, the words are so tricky, and your poem makes such a great point. Why don’t we think before words escape our mouths sometimes? That’s why I like to think about writing as clarifying thinking. Unfortunately, we don’t have time to write down everything at all times. You chose just the right poem to revise today. I also like what you did with the last line, as Stefani noticed. Thank you!
Glenda, fun to edit those darlings (but keep them in, anyway). Loving your first line,
and approaching your prompt as a to do list (and noting the strikethroughs don’t transfer from page to post, so going to strike out in 3…2….). Today’s goals:
Sunday, April 28
b.r.crandall
make the coffeeget caffeinated,
mow the lawn,
smokewhack those weedsrake, turn on loudest
buzz machine leaf blower
to compete with the
@#$#$neighbor & his 6 a.m. necessity
to wake up the grass.
scangrade those finalsprocrastinate revisitfinishbegin a handbookchapter due this week.
visit #VerseLove
pluck nose hairswrite a poem
Bryan,
pluck nose hairsmakes me chuckle. Don’t forget to trim the ears as you would that lawn! Approaching the prompt as a to-do list is fun, especially as it illuminates the mundane necessary tasks that consume hours but that are the stuff of poetry. I noticed you decided to grade rather than scan those late papers, LOL! A popular snark comes to mind: “Sure, Jan.” Fun poem. Thank you. I do know the strikethroughs disappear w/ copy-paste. I offered to change the prompt when I discovered that a week ago when my poem did not transfer correctly. That’s why Sarah made the video and added the link to it.Bryan, this made me laugh-snort this morning–your 4th line avout the weeds and the neighbor’s leaf blower. And of course its not a Crandall poem without
body grooming or bodlly functionsvivid imagery that engages the audience. Super fun poem!Sunday should not be for mowing! I can hear those weed whackers whacking right now! I love your poem, Bryan, but it so resonated with me with these people who want to do yard work at an unholy hour. Love how you end this one. I sure appreciate your tone in this one! Very fun and relatable poem. (Where I live, yard work is like a sacred rite).
Bryan, I like your leaf blower usage, something we can all relate to. My husband likes to just walk around using his leaf blower (at a decent hour) even when there appears to be not one leaf. I find this very confusing;) Enjoy your Sunday.
Bryan, you always have fun or at least make it look so easy. I loved the entire poem, but the ending is everything:
“
finishbegin a handbookchapter due this week.
visit #VerseLove
pluck nose hairswrite a poem”
Thank you for making me smile!
make it
No clue,
of what to do,
depressed and blue,
I strike through.
Without a song,
Where I’ve gone,
Struggling on.
I strike through.
Broke and weary,
Anger, don’t get near me,
Help, no one hears me!
I strike through.
Cannot escape,
the more I make,
the more it takes!
I strike through.
Cynical cards dealt,
Beads of rain pelt,
my back with a belt!
I strike through!
Unfortunate Tale,
silences my yell,
I fail to fail!
I strike through!
One man amongst giants,
Creativity defiant,
they not buying it.
I strike through!
For all the downs,
For all the frowns,
For all the clowns,
I STRIKE THROUGH!
Even though I am out,
I continue my bout,
There is no doubt,
I WILL STRIKE THROUGH!
Clayton,
Your first four lines—
“No clue,
of what to do,
depressed and blue,”—
express how I felt a week ago when I realized the strikethroughs from my poem did not transfer. Not sure if you experienced the same thing or merely to go w/ the wordplay, which is fantastic. I particularly love the repetition of “I strike through.” Me too. Thank you.
Clayton, the way you flipped the “strike through” is so clever! I love how it serves as a rallying cry at the end of the stanzas and the way your poem gains momentum as it moves towards its crescendo.
is a great penultimate stanza!
Glenda, I can all too well relate to the medical field. Last summer when I was really sick, I was told multiple times I had a virus. I actually had a raging infection. I have no confidence left in doctors. I love this idea for expressing, not expressing what is real and true.
Yesterday I attended a music festival and had a hard time locating my adult children, who seemed to totally disregard my feelings of loss.
My children are
lost to meadultshandling their lives
without me.Their children make a playground of dirt
transporting to an imaginary world
without me.Where do I find
myselfmy children?Circling the festival without a
purposemap.I will be found.
I repeat
to no one listening“Here I am!”Margaret,
Im so sorry you had that awful experience w/ doctors last year. Our system is broken, shattered. Your poem breaks my heart. I have been that lost person looking for others all my life because of my vision problems, so this really hit home for me. The first two lines set the tone and show such vulnerability aging brings.
“My children are
lost to meadultshandling their lives
without me.”They will know this feeling one day, too, Hugs to you.
Margaret, wow, I love your poem. I especially enjoyed the actions with your poem, and your last line is precious. “Their children make a playground of dirt/transporting to an imaginary world” relates perfectly to children play. Your strikeouts work effectively! Super poem!
Margaret, I love the way the
strikethroughsbring the identity markers to the forefront, especially with the purpose of each role.Margaret, your poem has a haunting tone…layers of potential meaning, even though I understand it’s about literally losing your adult children at the festival and trying to find them. There’s a universality to it that will resonate with many…but I take heart in this sure line: I will be found! The strikethroughs lend tremendous depth to the poem – being at a loss, almost of oneself.
Margaret, agreed! Many of us have lost that trust in medical professionals. My sister in law finally jumped ship and started going to a functional medicine doctor instead of a traditional one and has never felt better. I’m so sorry that you had to experience the ongoing infection, but thank goodness you are okay. I feel the sense of bewilderness in your words of your poem today. It’s really disorienting and a bit scary when we lose those we’re with and aren’t sure how to find them.
Glenda, this was a really invigorating challenge. First: I absolutely love Lubar’s brilliant poem for what she reveals in the italics and strikethroughs. Your poems on aging – and medical care for women – hit home with me. Telling in this way is especially powerful, being able to hear inner thoughts. “Lord let me die before I’m dementiafied” – oh, Lord…me, too. It is the most insidious thing, watching that disease strip one’s ability and dignity away. No one should have to suffer it.
Thank you for all of this today…my mind went first to the true/false poems we wrote earlier in VerseLove, so – why not??
True/False Strikethrough
1. I am much older than I appear. It depends. Perception is
noteverything. Sure, I’ve been mistaken for my sons’ sister. Told that I “don’t look old enough to be a grandmother.” How old does a grandmother have to be? Some women in my family were grandmothers before age 35. I am definitelymucholder than 35.2. Green is the color of ordinary time. True. Ask a priest. Ask a cicada.
3. Angels can sing.
True.False. Is the word in those Bible verses actually “singing?” Is singing unique to humans?IfWhen I meet an angel, I will ask…4. Stars can sing.
False. True. Job 38:7. Or, ask a NASA scientist.5. Trees can sing. True??? Psalm 96:12.
Is that just poetic language?Do some research—see what tech artists and ornithologist have to say about tree songs.6. Just because it’s myth doesn’t mean it isn’t true.
True.
7. There’s a reason I use seven asterisks for section breaks. True. A stylistic choice representing my favorite childhood book series, The Chronicles of Narnia=seven books.
8. A seahorse holds the reins of your memory and emotions. True and false. Technically it’s two seahorses, your hippocampus…
9. Salt water heals all. Mostly true. What sweat, tears, and the ocean can’t heal,
timedeath will.10.Blood is thicker than water. True in the strict factual sense; water doesn’t clot. But in the
familialfigure of speech sense…proven false.11. Blood cries. True. Genesis 4:10. The reference is to
murderspilled blood…is God the only one who ever hears itcan’t we hear it, if we try?12.I will live to see another solar eclipse. Let’s see—that’s in twenty years?
I could be a great-grandmother by then Sure. I’ll still be youngish.I’m so glad you chose the true/false poem and I’m sure others will too. It’s good to re-see it and also because I love to know answers, now I do! And your answers come from many different places. Love it. 1. I’ve been asked if I am both my mom’s sister and my brother’s mom, so that’s weird. I love your reason for #7!!
Fran, I sometimes think you crawl inside my head in the early morning hours across all the miles and become me for a moment in time. The very moment you are writing a poem. “Salt water heals all” is my favorite today (because favorite is ever-changing.”
Fran,
Im so glad you like the prompt and embraced its spirit so lovingly. I love that you chose the true/false poem because it’s a cool mentor text high school teachers might include w/ their learners and because your choice is so fitting for a Sunday morning. I love all the biblical references, especially #11 and your inclusion of Genesis 4:10. I also love #1 as it echos my own aging anxiety. I’ve been very stressed about this prompt since realizing strikethroughs don’t copy and paste from the notes app. That happened to one of my poems a week ago. I offered to change the prompt, so whatever happens today, I’m going to focus on your contribution.
Fran, your poem is compelling considering what choices you make with your strikeouts. I love the idea of playing with a true/false poem to consider what is emphasized. I really enjoyed #12. Fantastic poem!
This previous poem lent itself very well to this type of poem. Your strikethrough parts in your “answers” really add a lot of voice!
Fran, what a clever way to do a strikeout poem by using a true/false poem. This is fun to return to from a previous writing. I love #12 and all the rest, but I also love #7 as much too – – those numbers and facts about you are fun and interesting!
Glenda, I love this new form you are introducing today! I am a fan of blackout and found, and this brings many Kate Baer moments to mind from I Hope This Finds You Well. The ability to change or strike words is a game changer for new poetry. Thank you for hosting us today, and for investing in us as writers. You have me in stitches over that MyChart information and the poem. The last line of the poem is one for the books – – contemplating end times is something we all do, all of us, wondering….not wanting to know…..and that chart! You bring the voice of the doctor in with the comment about not changing the chart no matter how many times the patient asks. This is gold, pure gold and fun. Yours is an amazing example of how the fun of poetry and the momentum we need at the end of the marathon month is right here, keeping us enthusiastic as we cross a finish line with worn-thin racing flats. Thank you, friend! I chose option 2.
The Key
Don’t you wish wecould take the keyto the end ofthe island likewe used to dowhenIwas littleand you couldstillsay Latin namesfor each shell and bird and treeyourlovefor them pureand passionate beforethe day it all changedforyou?Such a beautiful, longing-filled tribute to your mom (I’m guessing). The ones we love and lose still live in our best memories…and yes, we still love them. We will always love them.I have every reason to believe they keep on loving us, too.
This is beautiful, Kim. I love what’s underneath the strikeouts, the reminiscing. And love that you chose to only leave “the key”: the love you have for a person.
Oh, Kim, this gives me chills! So beautiful in its entirety and in that longing “love you.” How I wish we could have one more moment with our loved ones. The good memories help. Hugs!
Kim,
Thank you for your beautiful, kind note. I appreciate it and you. I love that strikeout gives us the gift of seeing both your past memory and the new very minimal poem, the essence of what matters most in every relationship: love for one another. We can’t get that w/blackout.
My goodness, Kim, you nailed this day’s challenge with the simple embedded line of I love you. I keep hearing that the deepest grief comes from the deepest love. But I resist it. Why?
Kim, your strikeouts are heavy here, but the three words are the perfect “Key”. What a brilliant way to get to the heart of a poem. Brilliant poem!
So, this is how this poem form works? 🙂
Good Morning Poets,
I had a tough time thinking of a poem I could use the way Glenda has. I love that voice of snark (the doctor who is young enough to be a child but has thoughts on aging that he cannot understand for a woman that he cannot understand). Oh, it’s so natural to the real me. So, I gave up and found a nursery rhyme to practice on. I kinda like the resulting snarky result.
Hickory dickory
dock. Idiot, it was a pier.But, pier doesn’t rhyme with idiot now does it?
The
mouselouse ran up the clock.The clock struck
one, o u t but stole a base anywayThe
mouseand by mouse, I mean my ex ran downHickory dickory
dock. idiotThe voice(s) here, as the text talks back to the text, made me laugh. I could hear different voices in the mix, as the strikeout text feature and then italics did its conversational play.
Kevin
I normally don’t like the word idiot but it’s funny here. And the tone in “and by mouse, I mean my ex” lmao! Good one.
Linda, I’m digging the conversation with the text right in the lines of it. I think my favorite line is the one where you bring your ex into the frame. I have a visual image of this tail slithering around a corner…..off a pier…..into the water……(oops, sorry, ex!). What fun this is! You make me want to open some books of poetry today and talk to the text about the ex…..hey, there’s an ex in text. You’re good, really good!
This is hysterical, Linda! The snark is priceless.
Linda, you had me chuckle with the first line. You did manage to craft it as a conversation
even if it is with your inner selfLove it!Linda,
This is pure gold! I love it. I have an idiot ex, too, so I totally understand. I laughed from line one: “idiot, it was a pier.” The direct address to the idiot ex is perfect. Add an eye roll! I also love the “o-u-t” and the baseball allusion. Really fun poem. Thank you!
I hear that word
idiotin my head all too often.Linda, this is fun, playful, clever, and stunning. Love it…especially the last line (and word)
What a snark! I had a lark reading it.
This would be a fun Model poem for teaching multiple meaning for he same words.
That’s a problem with our living language! As soon as we learn the meaning of a word, a new meaning is born. 🙂
Glenda, wow, this line is powerful and I agree after seeing my grandmother go through it: “lord, let me die before i’m dementiafied” and it’s really so scary to think of apathetic doctors. Your strikeouts change a lot and adding the marked up chart was so interesting too. I really hope when you said “you’re government old”, that wasn’t something he said. Either way, I hope you can find a better one! Thanks for the prompt. Nod to Billy Collins’ On Turning Ten today.
On Turning
3536The whole idea of it makes me feel
scared, sick, old even though I feelsometimes younger than
3536 andpretty normal and inspired
to soon be able to walk up
a mountain faster
than the elderly couple
Goodbye thick hairhello hair that everyone still says is thick
today my hair falls
just the perfect way
to reveal a bald line
that’s never been there beforea river of scalpan empty roadthats still there
but I can’t see it
and who really who cares?
Goodbye supple skinhello skin that protects
my insides pretty well
Goodbye perfect healthhello health,
it’s my responsibility to take care of you
I’m gonna start doing better
let’s go for a bike ride
in our lovely, hilly island home
Goodbye metabolismhello metabolism,
I know there are things
I should do to keep you around
I’m gonna try
let’s drink some water instead of coke.
Goodbye another year of youth(you just said you felt younger than 36)
hello knowledge I never knew before
this new perspective
is better than the negative
Good strikethroughs! That real thought behind the words is true but also wry…just the kind of tone I enjoy. But, it’s tough to have this tone with middle schoolers. Unless THEY are using the tone, the meaning is lost on them so I try to avoid it. This kind of poetry lets me “let my hair down.” ha!
I appreciated the hello/goodbye format here, the give and take of age.
Kevin
Angie, perhaps my favorite living male poet of all time – – it doesn’t get better than Billy Collins for me. He’s got that perspective and view of the world that pulls me in and keeps me seeing things differently….like Whale Day, and Banana School…..those are amazing, and I love that you chose him and turned the tables on the age to make it your own. Most of all I love the line…..and who really cares? I find my aging self saying that more and more the older I get. Thank you for sharing your journey with us!
Angie, I am with Linda and Kevin. Love your strikethrough thoughts. These “goodbyes” show what worries you and “hellos” signal the changes you notice. Your final lines are very relatable:
“hello knowledge I never knew before
this new perspective
is better than the negative.”
I feel the voice here of goodbye alongside the girl who wants to stay young. I have a 36 year old daughter.
Take that!This age thing is a struggle at any age.Angie,
This is wonderful. I love the way your strikethroughs change the tone and in the process emphasize how important being active is. I love your hair references as they speak to the anxieties I e had about hair since finding my first gray one at 23.
Years ago while at NCTE, I met Billy Collins outside one of the convention hotels. He was awaiting a bus, as was I and a friend. A young woman was w/ him. I asked if she was his assistant. He said she’s his wife! OMG! He had to have been at least 30 years older than her. LOL! I guess he was still trying to ride that bike, even as he neared Methuselahs age. Since my birthday last November I’ve been saying I’m officially government old.
I love the way you juxtaposed
goodbye/hello. This made for a powerful reading experience, Angie…especially as you contemplate another year (it changes drastically in your 40s…trust me)Angie, I’m with the other folks, too; I love how you crafted the
goodbye/ hello moments throughout! And I’m with you, too (too?) “this new perspective / is better than the negative.” I agree! Thanks for writing and sharing this! (And a side note: I really enjoyed your poem yesterday, too (too, too–alright, enough of that), but I don’t think I had the time/bandwidth to comment on it. It reminded me of Susan Cain’s book Quiet. The first time I listened to that — because, you know, audiobooks are amazing — I said, yes, yes! this is why group work doesn’t “work” for everybody, this is why I hate many of those “fun” things at some random PDs. Anyways, I thought I’d let you know, lol. 🙂 )Thanks Scott 🙂
Angie, the strikethroughs work perfectly to counteract the idea of growing older (36 is still quite young, to me-!). I love the embracing of life and the renewed responsibility to care for self so much. Perspective makes all the difference!
A pencil-top
eraser
removesonly the surface
of scribble,
leavinglittlenibbles
ofwherewordswerea poem built
upon a poem
built upon
a poem
of an idea,
layered
liketectonic plates,just before the shiftGlenda,
The writing platform where I first write my poems doesn’t have a StrikeOut function, so I wrote there, moved here and then started to wonder about what to remove. I’m not all that satisfied with my results, so I might return to it. But it did make me think about how this is different than Blackout Poems, in that the removed words here are still visible, small resonances of what is being taken away from the action of the poem. That visibility gives the form a slant that I find pretty fascinating. One can still read the original poem — or the remixed poem without the stricken words — or the stricken words as its own poem, living like a ghost inside the other. Nifty.
Kevin
this stanza is so interesting:
“
leavinglittlenibbles
ofwherewordswere”both the striked out version and the original. Love both.
also, this needs to be in a poem: “living like a ghost inside the other”!
Thanks, Angie.
As it turns out … another daily prompt suggested found poems this morning, so I took my comment here to Glenda and worked with that as my text. Further removal …. more ghosts.
Kevin
Omg, love it! Thanks for sharing this as well! Infinite possibilities.
Both of your poems are prominent, Kevin! I like the lines Angie quoted and the ending:
“of an idea,
layered
liketectonic plates,just before the shift”The lines you stroke through momentarily created the image of “an idea layered.”
The blackout poem with that final line rocks too. Wonderful!
Agreed 100%, Angie!
ooooh, this is cool. An ars poetica is a great source for strikethrough…now I need to go find one to play with. Thanks!
Kevin, I too thought of the blackouts this morning and how strikethroughs are similar but so different. I think it’s a lot like the math teacher: “show me your work.” I like seeing the work of the change and how it twists and bends. Awesome, and what a great choice for this poem.
I wrote, like you, without strike outs at first. It has a different feel to it than black out poetry. I like your choices here. You can read with or without the strike outs and it’s still a poem.
Kevin,
I saw the blackout poem you posted earlier. Your note illuminates the idea behind a strikethrough that we don’t get w/ blackout poetry. I love these lines:
“a poem built
upon a poem
built upon
a poem”
That idea really is what we do here: We build upon prompts, others poem, our own poems, and even the comments, which I often find illuminating and inspiring and a vital part of conversation and community. Thanks for bringing the epiphany and poetry we can see twice.
Kevin, I also like the tone the poem takes on when we can see the strike. It’s sorta like peekaboo, I see you!
This especially interesting for me because responders to my poem think the dialogue is between the grandmother and grandchild. I envisioned two grandchildren speaking, one older and one smart alecky younger one. 🙂
Oh well, folks have been reading INTO poems fr years. I can’t call what they’ve done today a misreading, because there is are no dialogue tag line, to limit interpretation. Oh well.
Kevin, these are very cool poems: the original, the strikeout one, and the blackout one. My favorite moment is “a poem built / upon a poem / built upon / a poem.” I just love the sound of those lines. Thanks!