Our Host
Bryan Ripley Crandall lives in Stratford, Connecticut, where he directs the Connecticut Writing Project and is Associate Professor of English Education at Fairfield University. He gained teaching legs at the J. Graham Brown School in Louisville, Kentucky, a K-12 public school with a mission for diversity, inclusivity, and equity. He is co-host of National Writing Project’s The Write Time, and recipient of the 2023 Jeffrey P. von Arx, S.J. Award for Excellence in Community Engagement, as well as a 2023 Honoree and Finalist for the Thomas Ehrlich Civically Engaged Award recognizing faculty for exemplary scholarship, including leadership in advancing students’ civic learning, conducting community-based research, fostering reciprocal community partnerships, building institutional commitments to service-learning, and enhancing higher education’s contributions to the public good.
Inspiration
For many years, young people came to my high school classroom with a hatred of verse, especially since (as Billy Collin’s noted in his poem Introduction to Poetry) many educators simply want to, “tie the poem to a chair with rope / and torture a confession out of it.” I simply wanted my students to fall in love with language and to play around with their original ideas. This activity is one I love to do to free inhibited writers who haven’t fallen in love with word play – it’s a workshop I’ve loved doing since Dr. Marcelle Haddix inspired me to lead Writing Our Lives workshops.
It’s the 2nd day of #VerseLove, so let’s do a Magic Box Poem.
Process
As you read today’s prompt, it is important you know that the Ethical ELA team has mailed an invisible box to each of your homes and schools. Find this box (with your invisible box magical eyewear) that was placed nearby.
- Once you find that box, open it up and reach in. Your task is to pull any ten items from that box that your imagination will allow (note: it’s magic, so there are no wrong answers for what you can pull out – you can pull out anything).
- Next, list the items retrieved 1 – 10.
- Your goal is to use these items to create a word bank from the following direction (I recommend 3-5 words for each task. The more words you have, the more fun to experiment.
- #1 – write 3-5 words that rhyme with this item
- #2 – write 3-5 words beginning with the same letter
- #3 – write 3-5 words that are synonymous (thesaurus.com is a friend)
- #4 – write 3-5 words describe what it looks like
- #5 – write 3-5 words to describe what it might smell like
- #6 – write 3-5 words to describe what it sounds like
- #7 – write 3-5 words to describe what it tastes like
- #8 – write a few words about what it might say to you
- #9 – write 3-5 words to describe what it might feel like
- #10 – write 3-5 actions (verbs) it might be doing
- Now it is time to get wonky. No need for a Pulitzer-winning poem here, but merely to play with language in new ways – to experiment. Don’t get bogged down with meaning as much as silly playfulness and playful silliness. Random combinations are the goal.
- Now play: To do this, mix items in the following way.
#1 with #10
#2 with #9
#3 with #8
#4 with #7
#5 with #6
Directions: This has every right to be a nonsense poem, as the primary goal is to combine words in new ways (the magic of poetry). You don’t have to use every word. April is my favorite time of year because of the EthicalELA daily opportunities and the daily opportunity to play. The goal is to play with the word list created and let the randomness offer new ways of knowing
Bry’s Ten: (1) Verse, (2) Daffodil, (3) Porch, (4) Poets, (5) Coffee, (6) Parenting, (7) Teaching, (8) Muppets, (9) Books, (10) Sunshine
Bry’s ten items with the tasks given.
- verse, rehearse, disperse, fierce, worse
- daffodil, dancing, dilly-dally, Dionysius, debut
- porch, patio, deck, outlet, veranda, balcony
- poets, black, artsy, contemplative, deep
- coffee, morning sunrise, downward dog, caramelized boldness, roasted aroma
- parenting, crackling fires, walks n talks, coaching, grunts of lifting heavy weights
- teaching, chalk, pizza parties, friday night cocktails, disappointing cafeteria food
- Muppets, it’s time to play the music, it’s not easy being green, get your hand out of there
- Books, history of the world, library pixie dust, pollinated pages
- Sunshine, glowing, warming, inspiring, brightening, blooming
Crandall’s result from the tasks above:
Such is the Way
~b.r.crandall
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
I love when poems make you think – this was one of those for me
2 & 9
Paprika
Pepper
Parsley
Paprika, with its vibrant red hue
A smoky depth
subtle heat,
enriching dishes
With a touch of the exotic
2.
Pepper, from black to white to pink, an
An earthy essence,
savory and sweet alike
freshly ground or dried
an aromatic kick, elevates
3
Parsley, fresh and vibrant green
a burst of herbaceous flavor
Refreshing and beloved
A seeker of life solves its riddles-
They don’t become bleaker, confusing clues,
Uncertain, weaker, puzzling over untruths.
But the garden of my mind languishes, petals lost,
Leaves no longer velvet to the touch.
His pen write words of comfort-You’re safe,
I’ll protect you, Dream sweetly my love;
They become stale words on bitter, yellowed pages,
Bubbling blackly in my heart-
And then
A roaring blaze comes from the inside out,
Clawing its way past a burning, smoky soul,
Giving light to clarity, understanding
A seeker again, I now know.
Love these lines J Wolphe, “But the garden of my mind languishes, petals lost,
Leaves no longer velvet to the touch” and “bubbling blackly in my heart” – that is the way magic boxes help us to see words in new ways.
Hi Bryan! Thanks for this, my friend.
Mom’s Room
Earrings dance, flit and skitter
along the table
A small pile, a week’s worth
A rainbow of skeins, such colorful yarn
Collected in Wegman’s bags,
resting beside the recliner
Dusty tomes and fantastical tales
Photos weathering gray and grainy
Music plays quietly yet fiercely
Jigs and reels
Fiddles and whistles
A little tray of buttons
Missing their thread
Looks like a candy dish
A quilt the scent of lavender and sunshine
A rose that’s dropped its petals
A candle melted down to the nub
A bookmark that says, don’t lose me
Sarah, this teared. Me. Up!
That last line!
Love the sounds in these lines, Sarah,
Of course, most of the nation won’t understand Wegman’s bags…but if you know, you know. And that last line! Powerful!
This was fun! My results.
Running hope is no walking joke
Take note and float or jump the flexing moat
Heat and warmth heal the heart
Health and Security, euphoria
Vitality durably dreams deeply
Vigorous Power watch out! Relax
Directions infinite dial arrows
fading to Nothingness
Sweet soothing words
A coffee melody of laughter
I love the way these words sound, Brandon
The rhythm and sounds are what I hope my students learn to find while pulling from a box and playing
Kasey, what a great title to set up the action in this poem. Love the repetition at the end and your final line is wonderful.
What a beautiful, tight, and perfect use of words. I love the last stanza,
I tried! Not sure about this but needed to have a go, thank you Bryan.
Mingling
Well, they slide, brush and dance
while the bell rings louder than ever
belt hanging and ringing,
whilst its beady, bulky self
moves
bliss
as the water
quenches
releasing it’s floral taste
shiny, silver spoon awaits
an exciting deal
the twinned metal,
smiles when
they meet
with shrill
clunks and
bangs
I am thinking about these words, Juliette,
These are the sounds rising in my ear this morning. Happy #VerseLove
Perfect title, Juliette for this musical poem full of movement. Loved “the twinned metal/smiles when/they meet” and the ending is fun. The sound and movement in this poem are “striking”!
I thought this was great – I was also super unsure of mine, but we did it!
This is so simple, but beautifully describes the plight of the moth or butterfly. I am really intrigued by the last two lines.
Life long friends ride my porch swing like
Perturbed pixies on the day after Halloween,
Cackling, tee heeing, blurting guffaws that fade away like the summer sunshine.
We sit and sip summer in a glass, our time together like a pool party–delicious with its paddle, puddle, piddle.
Wind chimes tinkle as the geranium and lilac stand multiflowered on sturdy stems with broad deep leaves.
Soon the laughter, full and sweet, will remind us of simpler days–
When the gentle rain fell softly, melodically, like a whisper.
Jeania,
This poem takes me back to porch swing days when I was a kid swinging w/ my cat. The alliteration of “paddle, puddle, piddle” is like a soft whisper in my ear keeping time w/ the rain. I think I’ll put on some rain sounds to lull myself to sleep.
It’s “perturbed pixies” for me, Jeania! I can hear the cackling, tee heeing, and blurting guffaws!
The wonderful bond of friendship stands out to me in your poem. I love the sound and imagery. I can hear the whispers from a special memory of long ago. Beautiful poem.
The last four lines are moving. Life is hard and the simple things keep us going. Thanks for sharing.
Bryan – what a a delight! Thanks for this prompt. I really needed to explore the magic today and I also enjoyed how you indented your lines, and enjoyed playing with that. This is kind of a synesthesia fun house.
The Magic Box for a Tuesday (When Grades are Due Wednesday and You Were Up with a Teething Toddler Monday Night)
Provides a deep sleep
to keep in the midst of life’s
Flowing, carving, nurturing, moving
river.
Here’s something to look good in again – jeans
Jelly jiggle jazz jeans.
To balance this selfish-feeling urge,
There, too, is sweet Ezekiel,
And I wipe his soft, yogurt-covered cheek on them.
A meal, with friends who make me laugh hard,
a starter of Brie, cheddar, chevre
And pad see ew, with unbroken soft noodles
daring me to find their end
“Save some room for later, Augustus!”
I will protect myself in a slick, blue raincoat
And serve peace to protect us all:
Hummus, broken bread, saltwater
Rattle around the bottom of the magic box to find warm weather delights
Concert tickets smelling of summer dusk
the funk of dance and food trucks and beer
And a field of tulips, gently bobbing in the wind,
My mom snapping a picture of infinite yellow blooms
to email me on my birthday.
Emily,
This evening a recent immigrant from Ukraine spoke to my class. She had her baby w/ her and held the infant to her chest in a jumper. Your newborn references brought her to my mind. It was such a lovely moment. So many gems like that in your poem, but one standout for me is the /j/ alliteration in “jeans
Jelly jiggle jazz jeans.” Such a lovely thought in”to serve peace to all.”
And just like that, I’m off to the stores to find a pair of “Jelly jiggle jazz jeans.” I think we all need to be wearing them this month!
Emily, your poem is full of beautiful memories. I love how you search the magic box and pull out specific items that recall wonderful moments. Your mom’s picture is especially sweet along with wiping Ezekiel’s cheek. Loved your second to last stanza. Powerful poem!
Love “warm weather delights” – almost sounds like a sweet treat 😉
Many thanks Bryan for the invitation to play. I’m already thinking about how to adapt
this activity for my first graders when they roll their hand-made poetry dice next week. This week we’re on spring break—so I wrote under the influence of beautiful Morro Bay, CA and the magic box.
The light calls
shining blinding
me to anything
beyond the sea
Enormous boulders buried
bulging between shoulders
releasing rocking raining
avalanching
becoming lacy delicate feathers
airy with lift
Hearts pump together
in unison
briny waters breathing in
breathing out
living life’s rhythms
Read and write each other
feast on images
taste each word
satisfy the soul
Light
spilling refilling marking
end
and then
begin again
reflecting joining
sea and me
to view the photo, you can link over to my blog https://thinkingthroughmylens.com/2024/04/02/magic-box-npm24-day-2/
Ooh! I love Morro Bay. Your words are so beautiful, Kim. This poem begs to be read aloud.
Kim, I love the way you created rhythm and cascaded the poem. This stanza, in particular, stood out for its movement with words,
The contradictions and weaving of words creates a wonderful visual of place.
The end of your poem is exquisite. Love the sea and me along with all the sensory appeal you’ve created in this beautiful poem.
chocolate, flowers,booksgift card for Alinea, unlimited airline pass, time, hover car, Pedro Pascal, wine of the month club membership, world peace
Pedro and Me: A Love Story
by MO Daley 4/2/24
When the wallet of chocolate appeared at my small hut,
I saw what?
World peace:
healing,
protecting,
calming,
nourishing,
renewing.
And then came the fancy, frilly, fantastic flowers
and the wine- defining me as the epitome of luxury.
DO NOT SHUT THE FRONT DOOR,
as Pedro Pascal approached, books in hand,
murmuring, “Te amo, mi querida bonita.
Tengo, novelas, hardbacks, y tomes para ti.”
Next the hover car arrived,
encouraging us to taste the dust, wind, and rain
as we sped to Alinea, AKA, Heaven on Earth.
Where else could we go?
Literally anywhere a
stale air and B.O. filled steel bird could take us,
because we had time-
time to laugh, love, be quiet, and enjoy.
I love the way “because we had time” punches at the end of the poem (and am thinking that could be used as are refrain in a larger poetic adventure)(I might steal this). These lines, too, made me smile this morning as my coffee began to kick in.
Mo, I love the pace of your poem and all the active words stacked in the opening. I also enjoyed the all caps line and the wonderful sense of communion you’ve created. Your last line is precious. The thought of going anywhere is provocative and exciting.
Oh to have a vacation
with an unlimited book fund!
Even a staycation
would put a smile on my face.
The foundation of joyful memories
resembles books overtaking my space.
New shoes are like love –
taking the shape of warm, tight hugs.
Love shows itself in laughter
and joy while while shopping for family dinners.
Will there every be peace on earth?
Maybe…once fancy pens write to say, “I’m here for you.”
I calm the voices that try to use me up; try to deplete tranquility.
For serenity always come through to hold me.
(I want to write more, and I probably finish this poem in my notebook simply because it is stretching me as a poet beyond what I thought I could compose. Thank you so much Bryan for writing a prompt that taught me something about me.)
“I calm the voices that try to use me up; try to deplete tranquility.
For serenity always come through to hold me.”
These lines resonated with me and I love the flow of rhyme here!
I also love shopping for a family dinner 🙂
I love the way you’re stretching…and yes, I go back to this activity whenever I find myself falling into a singular pattern and voice…the word play helps me to jump out of myself. I especially loved the last two lines,
Thank you, Bryan, for this prompt. It stretched muscles I did not know I had.
My Magic Box – Mainly Memories
If you love something as a child,
Do you love it because you are a child?
I’m thinking of cotton candy, pink and flossy.
Is the child’s painting of cotton candy clouds
Over a honking, beeping, clanking, buzzing, tapping city
Only for children, or can I enjoy it too?
And when I die, will you play the hallelujah chorus?
Remind everyone that it is not about me or them.
Just as we can admire but not claim the glory of the afternoon sun.
The clean, sharp smell of spruces and pines.
The Alps, Austria, and Germany exist in their scent.
I last traveled there when mom was alive,
Supporting me as I tried my wings.
And the ocean from most any beach, salty, calm at once, suddenly tumultuous,
Much like the beautiful son who exists in my memory at exactly five years old.
Finally, just clear, warm water from the tap with soap of lemon grass or lavender
Then letting my tired body be healed by massaging hands as I listen to the sounding bowl
And wind pipes…at peace.
Katrina, I feel so many emotions with each of your stanzas. I didn’t expect that with this kind of prompt, but you really took me on a journey, starting off with such a terrific question about cotton candy.
I love the questions and images in your first stanza! You took me to a magical place there with the pink fluffy clouds – I think we can enjoy it, too. I really liked this thought.
I am thinking about this line, Katrina, “I last traveled there when mom was alive,” as it punches out of the poem making the reader wonder more about the travels you miss (emotional, physical, and spiritual) when your mother was still with you. Congrats on playing the Magic Box game!
Hiiiiiii Bryan! You warned me and then today was loaded with late meetings. Intimidation hit me and then I said I would just go with the formula and let the nonsense flow or not flow.
Thank you for a real challenge my first day back from Spring Break. 😉 Your poem is as magical as the Magic Box! I will have to give myself a weekend type of day to give this a better shot.
My List:
The Magic Box in Heaven
Golden-rimmed glass doors parted
Heaven’s welcome
The year is 2063
One day after my hundredth birthday
Books and music surround me
The hooks, pages swaying in rhythm
As giggles wiggle from the shadows
Joyful sighs of relief that I’m home
Hugging my vino, soft notes
Cuddle my spirit, no margins
Soft pages with Mom’s signature
Over 75 years ago, faded and warm
Tulips bob on ocean waves
Salty sunscreen shades
The sun like hallelujahs
Shout freedom, once and for all.
©Stacey L. Joy, 4/2/24
Scrumptious sounds, Stacey! What beautiful imagery you’ve created, too! Your poem makes this prompt look easy!
I like how you compressed and rearranged your list, keeping a warm tone, that relief of returning home, some nostalgia and comfort. “As giggles wiggle from the shadows” makes me think of an excited puppy, a fun image for a 100th birthday!
I’ve been waiting for your JOY, Stacey and I loved the words,
I love that you made giggles wiggle from the shadows! That is one of the results that come from pulling language from the poetic, magical box. (And yes, this should have been a Saturday or Sunday challenge…ah, but it was a Tuesday workshop)
Stacey, I absolutely adore your poem. This beautiful reunion with tulips bobbing on ocean waves and shouting freedom is magnificent. Nice job of framing the poem in the opening stanza and your title is perfect to show the direction of your poem. Love that your mother’s signature is warm. Stunning and magnificent poem!
My Magic Book
You always listened
About days in the sun
Fun, I had with friends,
Feeling all my emotions
Calling none of them foolish
You were my journal of stored memories
If you were a book
You’d be my biography
A recording of family battles,
Brushes with death
Holidays filled with love
It would be like peering into a photo album
Where the people were the pens
“Remember me?“
Nibs worn down to nothing
But memories are everything
Snapshots like paintings:
Colorful, mesmerizing, vibrant
Like strawberry wine going down, smooth
Or replaying your favorite concert
Click— turn the page
The years disappear
Our book ended
Too soon.
,
I believe this line, Heidi, is the line: “You were my journal of stored memories.” What a tremendous compliment to give anyone.
Heidi, what a wonderful object to address. The click at the end adds a sense of sadness because of its sharp sound, and I feel the sadness that the time with this journal had ended too soon.
Thank you Bryan for hosting today. This was quite the feat! I always love your creativity and ability to find the best ways to make lasting memories. I appreciated your use of interesting vocabulary “dilly dallies” and your Kermit the Frog regency (He makes green look good). Such a fun and risky way to loosen up. Here’s my poem:
Hodgepodge of Feelings
I feel like a duck dancing in the soaking rain, clucking with plush tulle wrapped around a soft Buc-ee mascot influencing my trinket purchase.
Orbs of new adventures evolve in the globe of a road trip but a tiny golden “Good luck” sticker softens my pride, reminding me of my bank account, once boisterous is now starry (a twinkling fantasy)
$1.73 bouncing in my pocket, beaming me back to reality as I rock in a rickety chair, creaking metallic sweat, hopeful that one day my passion will return.
These are the words, Jessica, that resonated with me most,
And I’m in love with this feeling.
Jessica,
As a fellow road trip affectianado, I’m drawn to the image “Orbs of new adventures evolve in the globe of a road trip,” and a stop at Buc-ees is perfect. It’s a quintessentially American phenomenon but a reminder of my limited funds, too.
Bryan, the opening lines of your poem
“I didn’t mean to bloom in verse”
is one I can imagine being written by a shy student, new to a school, who is still trying to find the way into the popular group that doesn’t seem to value good grades as much as good times!
I can see this student shrinking into their seat as the teacher stands behind and looking over their shoulder, reads the poem aloud as an example of fine writing!
The teacher, of course, thinks they are commending the student, welcoming them and showing how well they are fitting into YOUR CLASS which the in group is not crazy about…because you make them think!
I enjoyed this challenge! I imagined my box was delivered to school and it contained equipment I would need for a lab experiment.
Here is my Magic Lab Box poem:
To pipette – replicating measured movement of liquids into cassettes
like staring at a silhouette, cannot see success
In a late step, I express regret the volume is incorrect!
I might need a cigarette.
An aromatic, warm water bath
transformation of an inauthentic plasmid for fluorescence.
Gloves and plates
ready for the gauntlet of bacterial growth.
Media – flavorless salty snacks;
a platform for growth in a box
Humming along
my experiment nearly complete
vibrant colors
but smells worse than stinky feet.
What a great box! Full of wondrous things like cigarettes, salty snacks, and smelly feet! I want to be in your class!
I probably shouldn’t like “I need a cigarette,” but that line worked beautiful with pipette, silhouette, and incorrect. Bravo. May the bacterial growth inspire another poem during this month for #verselove!
I understand your need for “an aromatic, warm water bath.” There is something healing and soothing there.
This gives me fond flashbacks to my science teaching days! Those boxes were gold, and so fun to see the magic and wonder in precision and discrepant events! Love this! I like that aromatic warm water bath – kind of a cozier image than science materials usually get!
Well, this was a lot of fun. I’m not sure how much sense my poem makes, but I cannot wait to show it to my friend Lara (who ended up as the 10th thing in my box). I wonder if she’ll recognize herself?
Lara, in sunglasses
No morasses, she’s laughing
Talking – she advances
Drinking wine
With smooth chocolate
Melting on her fingers.
A do-gooder? No she gives scraps
to the dog at the dinner table.
Lara’s lookin’ good
Making her mark in
new shoes.
She’s got this.
Cupped in a comfy chair, she is
Earthy, leather and
yellow-centered,
hopeful.
If Lara is a book, she is covered
in oil-stained fingerprints
on the good parts,
crackling energy in the sunshine.
This was awesome! My fave parts were the last two stanzas and the beautiful imagery in them. They actually made me a little teary with all their friend-love! (I wrote my poem below about my BFF, too!)
This is so good. The last stanza makes me want to meet Lara!!
I like how you use the dash in the first stanza to separate Lara’s actions a bit. What a fun idea to have a friend in your magic box! 🙂
Go, Lara, Go! What a tribute from Amanda. The first stanza says it all.
We know Lara and made she grace the subject of more and more poems.
Amanda,
This poem makes me want to know Lara. Your poem paints a portrait of a fun, well-read woman who has lived a fulfilling life, like a book covered in “oil-stained fingerprints.” I want to hear the stories this book person tells.
What a tribute to a friend. I don’t know which I like better, “smooth chocolate melting on her fingers” or the “oil stained fingerprints.” I like the way you made everything work toward honoring Lara.
“cracking energy in the sunshine”–love!
Lara sounds like a fun hang! I love love this last line – she sounds very powerful, real, and a quality friend. “Crackling energy in the sunshine” – yes!
Bryan! This was too much fun and a wonderful end to a long day of work!
Stealing this for next year’s writing class.
I loved my poem! Thank you for this opportunity.
“You Don’t Have to Go”
A Polaroid shot: a Magic Pot of Sambuca:
Tasty like a Vanilla Wafer from Big Lots, the rorschach blot of my life in the glass.
Holy red-gold votive of my young life, melted candle burnt at both ends:
Wooden-soled Candies dance on a table, liberated like a candle’s flame – a cookie-sweet conch-call of silver horn from dj booth,
Polish falcon blazes on breast as she disappears and reappears across the screen of my life: soft, comfy, reminiscent.
And Abracadabra!
Flashy metal feeds us – shiny round vinyl 45s, and a good day’s fishing for pulp and its musty goodness, our glowing greatness.
I grant her a diamond ring of friendship, a roll of snaps to crackle and pop at the swing of a hammer amid acrid smoky truths told in bar bathrooms (Titanic sinks: I love you, my friend.)
I love the imagery that you use in your poem!
Weverard! I’m glad you had fun. I worry that I gave too much a task for a Tuesday, but I can feel the play in you words,
A magic pot of Sambuca? I feel like I’m back in my earlier years of life. Delicious.
Wendy,
You found so many playful moments, but when I think about your title w/ the image of the sinking titanic, well, that suggests a mournful tone despite the playfulness in much of the verse.
Bryan, I was so tickled when I read your poem this morning. I appreciated the invitation to play with words because honestly I have been hyper focused on words and word play this month. I especially enjoyed how you brought in the Muppets to your mentor poem. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
“I think we should have some make-believe.”
Frankly, I welcomed the book
as it took me and the sleepy
blanket far from the humdrum town.
Together we crunched on tacos,
before peeling back the skin
of a peach with our precarious pens.
How were we to know
that all we would find along the way
was a pack of stickers and
a twirly yellow bubble wand
“pause and pop” sang to our delight!
Each bubble burst released
a fuzzy, buzzy bumblebee–
scattering across the sky
like champagne starlight.
We drank that sweet honey-nectar
till we grew wings of our own.
Giggling wind chimes — blanket, book, and I
tumbled down into the tickle-me-pink tulips
and wrapped ourselves together
in the woolly warmth of Mr. Rogers’ scarlet cardigan:
Did you know it’s alright to wonder?
This is just so magical and dreamy. Ending your poem with a question was wonderful.
The third stanza made me smile – pure joy!
Oh, Erica…the play..the play..the play
If I offer anything to the world of poetics I hope it is to offer magic in all the boxes we open with precarious pens!
Some of these lines just grabbed me and wouldn’t let go:
tumbled down into the tickle-me-pink tulips
Each bubble burst released
a fuzzy, buzzy bumblebee–
peeling back the skin
of a peach with our precarious pens.
thank you for making me smile!
Erica,
The opening lines instantly reminded me of being a little girl, dragging my blankie and my book to a secret hiding place in the house! I love this so much.
But thisssss, oh my goodness! Brilliant!
Oh what fun this was. Thank you for the invitation to play with words. I would love to use this in the classroom. The bolded words are the words or forms of the words I pulled from my box.
Scaling the Air
A journal scales
the kernels of vernal thoughts
lighting up the smooth hushes
In the corners of the mind.
A hummingbird’s sharp bill
sticks into flowering violet heather,
never stopping, then coasting
to a lavender sprig
stopping, hovering in the air.
A candle wick burns,
Glimmering in the dirty corners
of a room; its wax dripping
and releasing a sweet scent
floating gently through the air.
Birds feed outside a nearby window,
swishing wings halt
long enough to snag some nutty seeds
without dropping any in the hot tub below,
then soaring higher up in the air.
Your words are soothing. “Its wax dripping and releasing a sweet scent floating gently through the air:- peace.
The title brings the punch home, Heather, and the choice to bold your chosen words brings forward more of the magic. The movement in this stanza,
is what resonated most with me…flowering violet heather…that is the image!
What a picture this created in my mind. I wanted to take out my paints!
lovely!
Heather, what a great idea to highlight your magic box words. I love the sound and sensory appeal you’ve created throughout your poem. I especially enjoyed your candle stanza. There’s such an interesting contrast between glimmering and dirty. I can smell that sweetness floating gently.
Bryan, what magic this exercise promoted! While I used some of the concepts and words from opening the magic box, the magic came after making the list with words tumbling out on a topic related to a few of the words. Thank you for opening the door and modeling fabulous word choice “daffodil dork!”
My draft poem:
It’s summer and the lake is alive
with blaring blasting enthusiasm
Family time is prioritized with
weekend gatherings filled with buzzing joy as music hums from beyond
The dock wobbles to and fro
as jumping kids airborne pre-splash
Creating waves capable of ruining a book or two read while floating nearby
Merriment ensues into the evening as laughter spills onto the porch
Where TVs are replaced with joyful conversations and a deck of cards
And sunsets hold promises of more to come
I’m an Aquarian and a man of many lakes. I love your word play, Christine…especially,
What a wonderful, poetic scene captured by your magic!
Fellow Aquarian here – love living on a lake!
The sounds in this poem are fabulous! I can hear the joy and love. What a glorious time for you all.
I love the alliteration of the line “blaring blasting enthusiasm” and then later the imagery evoked by the “dock wobbles…airborne pre-splash!” It’s a creative way of describing that moment and I enjoyed it a lot. It definitely makes me yearn for summer.
This was great fun, such a surprise unfolded! I know I was influenced by my environment – I was babysitting the grandchildren, and I asked the girls ‘what would be in a magic box’? With a few of their suggestions and more of mine, I landed here –
a bedtime story
a wise and willowy wren
holding a pen
flew with lined paper
on a caper
while a wayward orchid
dancing, desiring, dreaming
waved from a window
together they savored
the sensuous sparse sachet
of saffron sunshine
the wren paused to muse
along the wayward inlet
as water wriggled
over smooth river stones
only to discover
an enchanted amulet of rose quartz
this dazzling good-luck piece
a mysterious talisman
and held it close
which unlocked a secret door
leading to a wishful forest path
beseeching, welcoming
wander here
rest awhile
I will wait for you
and whence appeared
a blue velveteen book
wrapped in a floral sarong
overflowing with invocations, poetry, and song
this wholesome text opened
with a butterfly bookmark
of wafer-thin lemon chiffon
tasting of melt-in-your-mouth
inspiration
on the page was written
seek the magic wand
which sings a song
of wind chimes and children skipping
you will be gifted quiet solitude
in lavender
and cinnamon
so the wren soared on
searching
There are two things I absolutely adore about the verse here…the first is bringing a wren throughout the stanzas (they are such a precious friend to the world), and also these lines,
There’s absolute joy in following the way one prompt inspires so many possibilities. Thank you for sharing, Maureen.
Maureen, I wish my grandchildren were visiting. When they do, I always invite them to contribute and write together. Your bedtime story is so inviting and magical. I love the image and sound of “a wise and willowy wren / holding a pen.” The end of the poem makes me feel like a child who wants to “seek the magic wand” and then follow the wren soaring in the sky. Thank you for these beautiful images!
P.s.: I, too, think how different my writing would be if I were not on a spring break this week. Well, we’ll see it next week 🙂
Maureen, this was just gorgeous! As the kids at school would say…#mood. lol. So many beautiful, vivid fairy-tale images in here and lovely lines. This was magical!
“So the wren soared on, searching”
Please turn this into a book for your grandchildren!
Maureen, that precious wren, and those precious granddaughters and you came up with some magic in your box. So beautiful. I’m taking this with me today:
So beautiful!
Maureen,
This is a magical verse. You hooked me from the beginning, and I felt like I was riding on a magic carpet of fantasy images. Of course Bird and Frog helped. That makes perfect sense for you and the poem. I also see influences of the trails you frequent near your home. The final stanza imploring us to seek magic is perfect.
Maureen, your poem is incredible. I love the color, tastes, and actions you capture. I understand your subject which makes my reading of your poem that even more powerful. Love the floral sarong, lemon chiffon, and gifted quiet solitude. Your ending is beautiful and has me wondering if you will have a sequel to this exquisite poem.
Bryan–this was such a challenge! A combination of freedom and discipline that I almost avoided. But I am so glad I tried it. What an interesting approach to words and poetry, leading me to different places than I expected. Thank you! And that line about pixie dust in the library? Beautiful!
I thought freedom was my goal,
but the thiefdom of sleep quietly absconded with it,
offering instead the threesome reward of
restoring/healing/dreaming.
The serendipity of reading filled the gap–
Comfortable, quiet, borrowed emotion, shushed pages turning…
sadness is superior to stupidity
A memory awakened me,
a flashback to days of “I love you”, “Snuggle me”
Remnants of children grown, children flown
Children I once held close
They danced through my days,
flying, leaping, flowing, pointing to the future,
then gone to adulthood.
Leaving behind the sympathy of lemon drops, hot tea,
warm milk and tears.
So I turn to chocolate–rich, warm, sweet, seductive,
Choosing now to evade the loud drama of freedom
I once desired.
Gayle Sands
4-2-24
Gayle, you had me with the first stanza moving from freedom to thiefdom, and to the “threesome reward.” I can see how today’s experience helps you “restoring/healing/dreaming.” I, too, turn to sweets sometimes to avoid pain. Hugs!
Mmmm, beautiful. As one still in the middle of the “snuggle me” days, thoughts like yours help me to remember to cherish the moments. Sending you good vibes ❤️
Oh, wow, Gayle, you have told a story here of another kind of freedom. One we don’t always want. These lines brought me right back to my own two girls now in their 30s:
Then that last “loud drama of freedom / I once desired.” Beautiful magical poem.
There is such dreamy peace and delight in this poem, Gayle…these two lines resonated with me especially:
Yes, this exercise really was a combination of freedom and discipline – and it lands in ‘meditative,’ I think!
Gayle, to parent is to understand the complexities of all our cycles. For these reasons I loved,
This hits my papa brain and all the times I look to this or that in my home wondering where it all disappeared to…I try to imagine more of the chaos, the rhythms, the noise, but it has faded. And I think about the summer I spent with two barn swallows in Vermont while doing the Bread Loaf School of English. I wrote about them every night. And when their fledglings left (the last one leaving very slowly), the mother fell asleep for three straight days. I didn’t know it then, but that is exactly what parenting is all about. Rest. Thanks for sharing.
Oh, Gayle, the culminating lines
are just beautiful. “the loud drama of freedom” Wow.
Gayle, I just loved this! Favorite creations:
“the loud drama of freedom “
“Leaving behind the sympathy of lemon drops, hot tea,
warm milk and tears.”
“but the thiefdom of sleep quietly absconded with it, “
(And I can relate to turning to chocolate as a balm — always!)
I simply loved this! The time travel and word choices were the perfect blend of love that so often leaves us aching…in ways both beautiful and unbearable.
Gayle,
Wow, your poem is one to treasure, especially by those of us who have grown “flown” children. I love the word play, the beautiful memories, and the longing of the sweetness children bring.
🥰
Hi, Bryan! Thank you for sending me on this word spree today. It was a perfect excuse to be distracted from work for a little while. I like the prompt and your detailed instructions; it can be easily adopted for a poetry writing lesson in grade school or college. You say that you “didn’t mean to bloom in verse,” but you did and you do it so well, my friend! The final stanza made me feel so warm and cozy.
I think I had even more fun choosing items and preparing for writing.
Day 2 at #VerseLove
Tuesday at #VerseLove, it’s cool,
With Bry’s Magic Box, no fool.
Pull out items, ten, with ease,
Write down qualities, as you please.
Let’s dive into this game, no delay,
What’s in the box, what will we say?
Spring, jeans, flowers, in our sight,
Poem, coffee, diary, sprite.
Hummingbird flutters, pens on my desk,
Pavlova pastry, ready for guests.
My cat purrs content, his breathing slow.
A strange mix of words, but here we go.
One Person’s Word Jumble Is Another’s Jamboree
When spring is busy coloring
Bare trunks with new greenery,
My cat finds it delightful, lurking,
Crawling, hunting sleepy rabbits
In the field behind the trees.
Jacaranda’s purple blossoms,
Not the color of my jeans,
Yet, attract first hummingbirds—
Tiny ballerinas of magical dance.
Spring canvas is painted with flowers—
Blooms, buds, florets—bright rainbow of colors.
My diary whispers: “Hey, you, over there!
Capture the moments, beautiful and rare!”
Resembling Pavlova pastry—soft merengue inside
And crispy shell outside, versed lines
Taste like fresh berries and cream
Spellbinding us into the world of word play mystery
Coffee steam rises waking up senses,
Breathing in life into my being,
While my pen softly scratches the page surface
Crafting this inane tale as the ink jubilee.
Leilya, I love the play here! And I especially enjoy your imagery: “When spring is busy coloring / Bare trunks with new greenery” and “versed lines / Taste like fresh berries and cream / Spellbinding us into the world of word play mystery”!
Leilya, I so love this “inane tale”! And “ink jubilee” is magical. I love that we can see your process through this magic box prompt. Your “versed lines / Taste like fresh berries and cream” Indeed. It was a fun process, wasn’t it?
Leilya, you are right – I, too, spent so much time “choosing items and preparing for writing” … makes me wonder how my poetry would differ if I dared to do this on other days…
I love your poem, how you anchor the reader at the outset, sharing a poetic version of the prompt’s ‘directions’ and then I wandered into this dreamy garden of thoughts. “Jacaranda’s purple blossoms,” “Tiny ballerinas of magical dance”, “Resembling Pavlova pastry” – just beautiful, this inane tale of yours!
I’m trying this again, Leilya, as my first post doesn’t seem to have appeared. I like the way you took risks with your writing and adventured into new possibilities. This couplet caught me,
It’s so uniquely in your voice and with your originality. So wonderful to be writing with you again.
Leilya, I loved your introductory poem! Also loved the title of your poem — truth!
Your tale was far from “inane” — your sensory detail was just out of control, popped off the page:
“When spring is busy coloring
Bare trunks with new greenery,
My cat finds it delightful, lurking,
Crawling, hunting sleepy rabbits
In the field behind the trees.”
Loved this!
Also, this:
“Resembling Pavlova pastry—soft merengue inside
And crispy shell outside, versed lines
Taste like fresh berries and cream
Spellbinding us into the world of word play mystery”
(Made my mouth water!)
…just gorgeous!
Wendy, thank you for your kind, supportive words! I love Pavlova pastries and make them for friends quite often!
Here are my Pavlova pastries
Hopefully, it will attach this time))
Leilya, your final line is perfectly delivered! Love “ink jubilee” and all of the wonderful images blossom from your poem. I can see the trees, blooms, and that pastry sounds delicious!!! Beautiful poem!
So this took me out of my comfort zone but I joined in the play. I have to admit I did like playing with how to put words together from different items in my box. Stretched my brain a bit too much for Spring Break though.
Look for the sun bequeathing life in Earth’s nooks
Harbor unbelievable happiness in our habitat
“Are you recharged yet? Let’s go!” questions the aurora
Freshness prize, champagne talent
Windchimes, perfume, drum roll, coffee- ding!
My 10 items: books, health, sunshine, award, friends, ideas, new job, energy, necromancy, wishgranting
Cathy,
My spidey sense tells me you’re not alone in being out of your comfort zone. I do find myself drawn to the first two lines giving the reader a directive, especially the alliteration in “harbor..happiness…habitat.
Thank you. Took a bit to come up with words that began with h but then they really flowed together.
Ooooo…..”Freshness prize, Champagne talent.” I love it. Yes, comfort zones are challenged by the game, but the more you play the more fun it becomes!
I did have fun playing and thinking differently. Even though I was hesitant, I ended up smiling at the end.
I love the sounds of words in your poem, Cathy! Love the final line and can almost hear your “Windchimes, …, drum roll, coffee- ding!” The first two lines invite me to explore nature with you. Beautiful! Regardless of discomfort, you skillfully put the words together.
Thank you. It took me awhile of playing around to get something I felt comfortable sharing.
Glad you joined in the fun, Cathy, even with the spring break brain stretch! I love the questioning of the aurora, and the alliteration in line 2. That is a beautiful line.
Thank you. Coming up with 3-5 h words took a bit but then they worked well together.
It is marvelous that you attempted this prompt during your spring break! How very magical this is: ““Are you recharged yet? Let’s go!” questions the aurora”
Thank you. It took me a bit to come up with what energy would say to me.
Cathy I swear I didn’t read your poem before writing my own — but I love that we both wound up with wind chimes and champagne! I love the lightness those words evokes. Your opening line is also wonderful — it’s powerful and I adore your use of the word “bequeathing”
Thank you. When I was looking for synonyms for granting bequeathing popped up and I knew I had to use it.
Cathy, this was great and full of glee, imo. I loved the last two lines especially with their mash-ups of:
“Freshness prize, champagne talent”
and
“Windchimes, perfume, drum roll, coffee- ding!”
Beautiful poem!
Thank you. I’m glad you felt glee while reading it.
Your word choice is great. It sounds perfect Cathy., some alliteration too; “Harbor unbelievable happiness in our habitat”
Bryan, thanks for hosting today. I’ve been playing with this for a while and I have no idea about this poem, but I can see this activity would invite a lot of interesting responses from your students.
Blinded
blaring bells, quelled the stricken crowd
holding wrinkled road maps calling for help
wondering if they’d ever reach home
their bloody books and buzzing breath sifted
dusty remains, ghoulish reminders
more foreboding than skeletal remains
longing for their fraying robes, broken slippers, human comfort
they savored their last broken cigarette’s stale perfume
nervously gauging the battered van’s squealing wheels
and the glare of a Bobblehead’s fenced-like teeth
Reading this made me feel nervous like I was in that battered van and feeling anxious that I’d never get home to my “fraying robe, broken slippers and human comfort.” So many powerful images, Barb. Glad to have a chance to keep enjoying your writing via this new (to me) site.
holding wrinkled road maps and calling for help…and from there it just gets more and more foreboding. I like the way this dives and gets deeper all the way down and then there’s that Bobblehead.
Barb,
Apocalyptic is the word that popped into my mind when I finished reading. The first line tricked me. I thought I’d be reading about basketball! You know why. Then the image of “wrinkled road maps” and the details that followed alerted me to those who have lost their way, often through no fault of their own. I see this in the “wondering” and in the “longing.” For me the poem speaks to the era in which we live. Much to think about from your amazing mind.
Yes! Listen to the rhythm of this line, “their bloody books and buzzing breath.” “Bobbleheads fenced-like teeth” and the glare will likely be in my dreams tonight. Congrats on the word-play, Barbara!
Hi, Barb! I am thinking about The Last Book in the Universe by Rodman Philbrick. It’s this unsettling dystopian world-like feeling that nudges at me as I read your poem. You have such a strong imagery allowing me to see “the stricken crowd / holding wrinkled road maps calling for help.” Your word play is amazing!
Wow! The tension throughout this poem is amazing!
“they savored their last broken cigarette’s stale perfume
nervously gauging the battered van’s squealing wheels
and the glare of a Bobblehead’s fenced-like teeth”
aaaand–roll the credits to the thriller movie!
Oh, Barb, this is like a horror poem extraordinaire. I think Poe and Stephen King would like it. Rich alliteration here: “their bloody books and buzzing breath sifted” I can see that glare and “Bobblehead’s fenced-like teeth.
Oh my – your magic took you to the dark side! This is a wild unfolding, just ripe for a story told around a campfire…”bloody books and buzzing breath,:”longing for their fraying robes, broken slippers.” “a Bobblehead’s fenced-like teeth”…so many strong, surprising “b” words that add to the fear.
The word choice builds so much suspense – bloody books, buzzing breath, ghoulish reminders, skeletal remains. Wow!
Barb,
I really like
Barb – haunting isn’t enough of a word – bone-chilling horror creeps over me. The loud bells, the “stricken” crowd of clearly lost people trying to find their way. Oh my soul – “bloody books”! – and all those images of death. The foreboding builds and builds until that Bobblehead which is utterly terrifying, the way kids’s toys are in horror movies. Now. My brain wants to make sense of all this destruction, the waste, so it goes back to the title, “Blinded” and to the people who have lost their way…hmmmm…perhaps because of their choices…
Barb,
Loved this! My brain went to student in school immediately, lol! Those “wrinkled road maps calling for help” that they hold, those “bloody books” with “ghoulish reminders” and “dusty remains” of history — my brain wanted to make this about students and their grueling school days, finally liberated by the day’d end.
This truly is ghoulish and I love it!! I can see the stricken crowd holding wrinkled road maps with blood. Are these zombies inhaling their stale cigarette and carting a Bobblehead with sharp teeth? Creepy and wonderful.
So much to love here, Barb. I admire how you created a mood from disparate words. “Longing for their fraying robes, broken slippers, human comfort” was a line I felt viscerally.
I’ll play
this jumbled up
slap dash
word mash
this carpe
verbum
slippery fish
Swedish fish
(Crandall is,
indeed, the
Willy Wonka
of Wordplay)
my prehensile
utensil this pencil
can whip and
bake and boom
on the tongue
like chocolate
gumdrops (which
would be seemingly
gross, but, also
maybe tasty, IDK
I’d try ‘em)
my words, fly like
a pterodactyl,
all elbows and wings,
all long snout,
named Winged
Finger (which is what
we give Death with
this weird word play
this YOLO mashup
of sounds and sense
this linguistic eff you
to Coleridge and his
“best words in their best
order”: but what is
order – other than
disorganized
disorder?
(tip o’ the hat
to Billy Shakes,
but to truncate his
line: “the play’s the
thing.” Full stop.)
Play
makes us alive
makes us who
we are, makes
us human
and as Wonka
put it best,
“No, no,
Don’t speak.
For some
moments
in life
there are
no words.”
__________________________________________________
Bryan, thanks for this exercise, this Open Write Word Jumble™: Magic Box Edition. This was a lot of fun. Thank you for “bloom[ing] in verse” and for being “a daffodil dork pollinating these pages like Dionysius”!
Scott, your poem is a fast-paced ride and I appreciate the emphasis on Play at the end. Who doesn’t want a magical moment Wonka could provide. Thanks for sharing a glimpse into your notebook. My scribbles do not look quite as neat, but this activity definitely required a pen and notebook.
Oh, look. A visual. Yes…this is what magic looks like behind the scene. I was looking forward to seeing what you would do.
You didn’t disappoint. Loved this, too.
Hi, Scott! I, too, thought of my poem today as word jumble. Your is funny and original as always. You are so right noticing that
“Crandall is,
indeed, the
Willy Wonka
of Wordplay.”
I think I am going to call (or at least to think about him” as such from now on. Thank you for your word wisdom!
Magic Box is right up your alley, Scott. This is like a roller coaster of “jumbled up slap dash word mash.” I don’t know how you do it, but there always seems to be an important message in your poetry. Here’s to the importance of PLAY.
My goodness! I took great delight in reading your “disorganized disorder” of a poem! I appreciated the nods to both Wonka and Billy Shakes — two individuals that definitely understood how to have some fun with the written word. I loved the section about the pterodactyl “all elbows and wings” because I think it epitomizes what was happening: fun with words and subverting expectations time and time again!
Yet another gem, Scott. So dang smart. I’m so glad that you shared your handwritten prewriting so that I can see that you actually DO work to create your poems. I figured they just magically flew from your fingertips. 🙂
Scott, LOVED it. That last stanza!
Scott, thank you for making this fun! I would definitely try the chocolate gum drops too!
Okay! I am back with my own fun after having posted about collaboration fun with my students from earlier.
Wow, Bry! What a load of fun this was. I’m so surprised with what came in my imaginary box. Thank you for sending this to me. Please send more!!! I want to see what’s inside the next ones. I’m hooked.
Title: Hiding Inside My Magic Box
there is a nook of sunshine
glaring at me – yipping the
gloss over my eyes.
Fragile rays.
Dainty and floral.
Bon appetit.
It’s not rising or setting with inky grunge;
but serving me blanket fizzles.
(on another note…how do poets set up their poetry where the title is also a line of their poem. The way I did this does not seem “right.”)
Hi, Amber,
The cadence of your poem creates a whispering tone, and I can picture a person peeking out of their magic box. As for the formatting, I have seen poets bold the line that is both the first line and the title, or sometimes they just repeat the line.
Yay! Thank you! I like the idea of bolding the first line if its my title, but also the first line of my poem.
I would like some “blanket fizzles” too. Your poem has a beautiful softness to it – and I think you set up your title perfectly.
Thank you, Saba. I am so grateful for this writing prompt. I would have never before found the comfort of the words “blanket fizzles.”
Amber, interesting question you close with. I’d love to know the answer to this, too. I love your title, and the sensory appeal you’ve created through “fragile, yipping, gloss, and fizzles” The inky grunge is also a wonderful combination.
This line stood out to me “It’s not rising or setting with inky grunge;”
…but serving me blanket fizzles–what a wonderful phrase!
Hi, Amber! Glenda Funk often skillfully uses the titles of her poems as first lines. She might give you a helpful advice. I’ve seen different ways of doing this. I like the image of “a nook of sunshine glaring” at you. Such a welcomed personification. Hope you “other fun” was successful too. Thank you!
I’ll check out how she does it. Thank you for the suggestion.
Hi Amber,
I love, love that “nook of sunshine” Then the strength of the second line “glaring at me–yipping…” Strong words. Then sweet words like fragile and dainty. I love the creations that are coming from the Magic Box today.
P.S. I think you did that just fine with the title going into the first line. If one reads the title and continues to the poem, it reads like a continuing sentence. I sometimes just bold my title, instead of writing Title, but I think that’s personal preference. I guess to make it more obvious, you could drop the first word “there.” Of course, this is all just one person’s opinion, just because you asked.
Amber, “blanket fizzles” fascinates me… I get a sense of a magical drink or pop rocks candy that fizzles on one’s tongue, wondering if the “speaker” could only partake while under a certain blanket – served by the sun! Also love “nook of sunshine” and “fragile rays”… it really expands my realm of what is possible! My mind paints pictures!
Bryan,
This was quite a tipsy-turkey word journey. I’d love to try it w/ students so plan to see if there are takers when I’m subbing. Thanks for the brain bend!
Magic Box Journey
gurgle burble crackle spark
snow blow and dogs bark
pungent papered garbage stink
more wet air my heart sinks
slick razorroad roam addled
confused befuddled shocked crackled
journey excursion jaunt question
cactus voyage prickly ink lesson
telescope trip new diversion
winter weather my aversion
grow sow look and gaze
stare aware embrace amaze
Glenda Funk
4-2-24
*The words: snow, road, trip, cactus, ink, fumes, sink, dog, question mark, telescope
**The photo in my Canva is in Saguaro National Park during spring break last month.
Hi, Glenda,
Your displeasure regarding the weather, and it seems like you begin to reminisce about warming climates. The imagery creates a playful and inviting tone.
“cactus voyage prickly ink lesson” – such an unlikely but interesting string of words. Praying for warmer weather for you!
Glenda, your poem offers a lot of playful combinations. I adore the last line, but feel the confused, befuddled, and shocked line. Your Canva creation adds more depth for me and know that the journey you recently took had to be a great departure from the snow in Idaho. Really like the combo of “telescope trip” too.
“Stare aware embrace amaze” really brought the feeling of awe to the end of the poem.
What a vacation you had with a cactus voyage and prickly ink!
This feels like a witch’s prophesy, muttered over a cauldron. The rhythm, the rhyme. Take me with you on your broom, please!
Hi, Glenda! Oh, how I love all the “r”s in “gurgle burble crackle spark”–I would roll them up with pleasure! Interestingly, the use of verb lists without commas, or any punctuation, creates a fast-pacing progression reflecting your multifaceted thoughts in “confused befuddled shocked crackled,” but allows us to slow down in the final line “stare aware embrace amaze.” Thank you for the image, which helps visualize your poem.
Glenda, oh, such beauty in your word choice. I love all the rhyming throughout and the clipped lines of all strong words. The closing is my favorite: “stare aware embrace amaze” and I had to laugh aloud at “winter weather my aversion” Surely it will be over soon, my friend!
Your rhyming scheme is impressive, Glenda. I am smitten with “slick razorroad roam addled /confused befuddled shocked crackled” I feel as if I am listening to a wizard describe their trip, while stirring a boiling cauldron.
My students and I read, once, about a movement of totally sonic poetry where the goal was to simply create word-play that offered rhythm (like chimes or marimba) in the ear. I couldn’t help but read your words,
and feel you achieved such a poem. Loved the language in my ears!
I agree with Gayle. This reminds me of a witch’s chant. The sounds are wonderful.
And even your “silly” or “nonsensical” poems have such great rhythm and sound!
Such a fun prompt – pushed me to use words that don’t often pop up in my writing.
Piercing through channels that bind
my mind with flannel thoughts
dimpled rubicon of radical rot
turned snug with smooth comfort
UFOs whisper good morning
into the saucer of my ear
and the day spatters bitterness —
sharp and sleek —
over the earth
while my spoon hums of yesterday
in the crackling dawn
The imagery of the UFOs whispering and the play on words in the next line is delightful.
Katherine, you have so many fun combinations here. I absolutely love “UFOs whisper good morning
into the saucer of my ear” Nice job of pulling in lots of sharp and soft sensory appeal like “spoon hums” and “crackling dawn”. Well done!
I hadn’t noticed the hard/soft – but I pulled many items for hand quilting out of my magical box, so it makes sense. This was such a fun prompt!
Your poem so perfectly captures a groggy morning! I love “flannel thoughts / dimpled rubicon of radical rot”. I can just see you (or me, as I’ve been on many a day) in the final lines, pouring a bowl of cereal & eating distractedly “spoon hum[ming] of yesterday.” Thanks for sharing this!!
Kathrine, isn’t that the truth? We are using magical words today, ones we never would have come up with, except with our magic boxes. “rubicon of radical rot” and “saucer of my ear” and “crackling dawn” are just a few that jump out at me in your pleasant to read poem.
Kathrine, I am now going into my evening thinking of channels
It’s the flannel thoughts for me. They can be any type of thinking, but they’re flannel and that is extra special.
Thanks, Bryan. This sounds like unique and creative way to write a poem. Unfortunately, my time is limited today, so I’ll just share this little verse.
I thought there would be sunshine
but that is not God’s way.
Instead, it was cold and rainy
when I awoke today.
There’s a sullen grayness
that feels like a blanket of gloom.
It seems like there’s no chance
that light and joy will bloom.
Then suddenly I realize
that part is up to me.
I can change my inner world
and fill my day with glee.
I can buy some flowers.
I can call a friend.
I can find love and joy
in the home I tend.
A day is but a spot of time
weather is only a part.
I can choose my outlook
and get off to a good start.
Rita, Yes….time is always of essence and in the workshop format, this is typically a 30 to 45 minute activity. With that noted, BOOM! Look at you getting verse to page. I love,
In my kitchen, on a plaque that greets me every morning and every evening are the words of Emerson, “For every sixty seconds we spend angry, we lose one minute of happiness.” Here’s to you joy.
Rita, what a fun poem! So sweetly shared. “I can find love and joy” and “I can choose my outlook” are great takeaway messages. Have a great busy day!
Rita, wow, what a great message for how we approach a dismal weather day.
BRC – Thank you so much for this idea. I went through the process – with a little doubting voice in my head. Then the poem appeared and I smiled. I cannot thank you enough!
Today, you…
Today, instead of handing you a book,
Encouraging you to read,
You handed me a book.
You talked about it first,
Encouraging me,
Enticing me
With this story of sand,
With this story about a girl
Born without arms,
Who lives among the cactus
In the Arizona desert.
She could have become hard
Like a rock, like a fossil,
But she was a girl
Like you – tenacious and hopeful.
Today, you handed me a book,
Your silver bracelets jangling,
I took it in my hands,
I opened its pages,
I read the first sentence,
I looked up, and you were smiling.
The air was sweet,
Like petrichor after the first rainfall.
Oh wow, Joanne! I love how you’ve really captured the gift of reading, and how we forever remember those who unlocked its treasures for us. I love “your silver bracelets jangling”–to me, this really gives this person a clear personality. I feel like I know this person. And, I have always loved the word “petrichor”–such an evocative word.
Beautiful poem. I felt transported because it reminded me of my days teaching middle school and how excited a student was to share a good book with me. I love the line, “She could have become hard, like a rock, like a fossil.” Thanks for sharing!
Well, dang. What can I say? As Ruth Stone often said to my fellow writers, now this is a poem-poem. It’s originally, it’s moving, it’s engaging, and it intrigues.
And with that, I want to read more and more of the voice inside your head and package that doubt for a mailing to outer space.
Oh, Joanne, what magic you made with this prompt. I love this sweet story of the book-reading girl, so “tenacious and hopeful.” The last line is icing on the cake.
Joanne,
I too had a doubting voice in my head when I saw the prompt. Then I smacked myself (figuratively) like Cher in Moonstruck and said, “Snap out of it.” I do live the sharing of books in your poem, the student becoming the one to recommend a book. It reminds me of the line in “October Sky” where the teacher tells Homer Hickman Jr. “All I did was give you a book.” It’s such a beautiful thing you’re celebrating today.
Joanne, I love this focus on a moment that may seem simple but has a much deeper meaning. Your ending is delicious, but I really appreciate the details about the girl with her “silver bracelets jangling”. Lovely poem!
Joanne, bracelets jangling reminds me so much of my mother’s charm bracelet. Thank you for sharing this! I, too, was surprised by what emerged from the prompt. Like we had poems inside us that we didn’t know were there and then suddenly they were.
Oh, this is so lovely, so hopeful And those last two lines–what a summary!
Bryan,
Thank you for this amazing prompt. I’m glad it is spring break here and I had a little extra time for it. I want to come back to it for sure and share it with my students too! I feel like I could have gone so many ways with this one!
The words in my magic box today: feather, anchor, shell, Jack Sparrow, deserted island, sailboat, tulip, compass, map, leaf of an amber maple.
Can’t You See, It’s the Sea for Me?
I never meant to be the feather
You’d rather stayed on the ground
And despite the weather
I’m floating, flying, gravity-defying.
I understand the need of an anchor
Yet I admonish, animate, won’t acquiesce
To the life among the masses.
It’s not that I meant to take flight nor am I searching for treasure.
It’s just there’s a little Jack Sparrow
in me.
I’ve got a jar of dirt
And not all treasure is silver and gold, mate.
I want the fragrant flowers of far-flung islands
The flapping sails
The rigging rattling in the breeze
The sea smell surrounding my senses.
I promise to take the compass
To stay on course
sometimes
It’s spindles are magic
Spinning new horizons.
ever-moving
never again
stuck in traffic.
So, don’t hold me in the dirt
or make me stand solidly on the sand.
Come fly with me
To the sea.
I’m simply marinating the first line, Emily.
I mean, like WOW.
And these lines,
We all need more Jack Sparrow in our every day.
Emily, this is pure magic. It makes me want to fly with you “to the sea” I love the message that “not all treasure is silver and gold” but smelling flowers and exploring new horizons.
This poem soars and tells me so much about you. I see you as an adventurer, someone who loves challenges and travel, a person who won’t be pinned down. It’s amazing how you put your words together to create the essence of you. Love the line, “So don’t hold me in the dirt…” Wow!
I love this spirit of adventure and the feeling of a feather floating even trying to stay on course but rather flying out to sea. Thank you for this delightful poem. The jar of dirt makes it realistic.
I love this–
It’s just there’s a little Jack Sparrow
in me.
I’ve got a jar of dirt
And not all treasure is silver and gold, mate.
The conversational tone is great, and we all need a bit of Jack Sparrow!
Oh – lovely this. I’m sailing along with you. It’s so wonderful how you describe the sea. I love the lines:
So, don’t hold me in the dirt
or make me stand solidly on the sand.
This was such a fun, rewarding exercise. Thanks Bryan!
She steps a gentle, gandering route
through the garden
stopping to scoop a palm
of musty earth: gritty, savory, cool.
Sifting the soil through her fingers,
she finds a small kernel
the essence of beginnings
an invitation to dig
to leave
to start
to breathe.
Rachel, the /s/ and /sh/ sounds make this so peaceful to read. I love the feel as I read through your poem multiple times. I love “gentle, gandering route”
Rachel,
Visually, the Gs and Ss stand out to me inviting me into their shapes. The “gentle, gandering…garden…then gritty” has me seeing the hook of the g in the ground like a shovel.
Sarah
Ooh! What a wonderful aural treat: gandering, garden, gritty, fingers, beginnings, dig. I want to go into the garden with you and breathe.
Day two:
Homework surfs around the curve,
cajoling and demanding,
shaming me for
valuing my worth
as dolphins dance,
escaping from dedicated
drafts didactically deployed to
disguise demands.
There is a sandy island
to explore. Dunes and beaches
rejecting expectations, experimenting
with exhilarations, waves of
not-work like tightly packed casings of salami
spiderwebbed through onion and garlic and umami-
flavored goodness.
The salty wind whispers its susurrations,
murmuring bitingly bitter sharpness,
snapping my contra-vacation tendencies.
Eric, I enjoyed reading this so much. Then I went back to reread and find favorite lines. It goes from one to the next of magical sounds and word choices intricately woven together, so many instances! “experimenting with exhilarations” “Casings of salami spiderwebbed through onion and…” “murmuring bitingly bitter sharpness” So much to love here!
Love that last stanza with all the Ss and Ws “salty” and “susurrations” — what a word there.
Sarah
Your poem makes me crave an island vacation! My favorite line is “waves of / not-work like tightly packed casings of salami”. Embrace the freedom! Work can wait 🙂
Also – impressive alliteration in that first stanza “dedicated drafts didactically deployed to disguise demands.” I love it!
Bryan, this exercise has potential for my poetic future! Oh, my goodness. That was fascinating, freeing and fun. I don’t mind if it doesn’t make sense. It was really a magical box, and I’m going to keep this prompt close to use in many ways. It’s weird that I forget to use poetic devices, so this is a way to find words and keep them handy. I love your second stanza with all the d words: “Me, this daffodil dork…” Thank you so much for this.
A Redo of Kneeling
My visitor today is a green thumb–
my plants clothed in need
now fed and watered with a hum
The smooth slander spotter,
reviler revealer, lifts
the weight of the world
and clears out the system
Beaming to Pennsylvania on
the wings of hearing,
really hearing you this time,
better beside the blooms,
not a long way from heaven,
not killing time,
but living and breathing freedom
Freedom tastes gentle
It’s never-ending relief
instantaneous sustenance
of hope and relief
Transporting success
on the creaking knees of the old
and the knowing knees of the young
A redo please
of a quiet anthem
that hears
listens
and finds
justice
Denise….Stunning. I always find that this particular activity takes away all that inhibits us and lets us rethink the way we understand our worlds. Starting from your title, A Redo of Kneeling, I am fascinated. Why would one need to rethink the way they kneel….ah, but we do (especially middle age on up)…now watered and fed with a hum. Amazing. a quiet anthem. Simply wonderful. Congrats on your poem, today!
Thank you, Bryan. I didn’t list what came out of my magic box, but one thing inside was a redo of Colin Kaepernick’s 2016 kneeling protest. I’ve often wondered how our world would have been different if every player and every fan in the NFL would have kneeled back then.
Hi Denise! I love your third stanza and especially the repetition of “hearing, / really hearing” and “freedom tastes gentle”. A great way to describe freedom.
This sang to me today! “better besides the blooms, not a long way from heaven, not killing time, but living and breathing freedom” I wrote about sailing the sea and freedom and I love that you find it in the garden. I did plant tomatoes yesterday and experienced the creaking knees. A lot of wonderful imagery and sensory details here. Thank you for your poem!
There’s so much to ponder in this poem, Denise. I will be reading it again and again. The third stanza is my favorite…”Freedom tastes gentle” and “sustenance of hope and relief” make me think about how it would feel if certain situation in our country and our world would magically dissipate. Thanks for sharing.
Denise,
Lovely alliteration in “better beside the blooms,” and I’m a tad jealous you’re able to get out on your knees w/ growing things and nurture your soul. It’s too cold here for that.
Denise, your extended metaphor is fantastic. I especially love the sense of weight and relief. Your ending lines are truly compelling. Love that you end with the word “justice”. I can hear those “creaking knees of the old”. Powerful poem!
Denise, this verse keeps me coming back:
Transporting success
on the creaking knees of the old
and the knowing knees of the young
A redo please
of a quiet anthem
that hears
listens
and finds
justice
the quiet anthem and the knees have me envisioning a church service where prayers are being said in the music, the quiet music – and being heard.
All of it resounded with me, and then that ending…
“Transporting success
on the creaking knees of the old
and the knowing knees of the young
A redo please
of a quiet anthem
that hears
listens
and finds
justice”
If only…I hope.
I love the alliteration sprinkles generously throughout your poem, Denise. I love the surprise of your phrases: wings of hearing, instantaneous sustenance, quiet anthem. Your consideration of kneeling is such a thoughtful treatment that makes your reader think.
Denise, I want to go line by line here …I love so many. I especially love “on the wings of hearing.” I reminds me of my favorite verses from Psalm 139. The speaker’s desire to really hear is poignant. “Freedom tastes gentle” – just so beautiful. This is such a meditative poem, with its fascinating combinations of words and images. Cleansing.
Denise,
I just love this image
Denise, this is very powerful! I enjoyed it the first (and second and third) run-throughs, but when I had the lens of Kaepernick from your comment to Bryan, it intensified it so much more for me! And your question about “how our world would have been different if every player and every fan in the NFL would have kneeled back then” is a question that I’ll think about now, too. Thank you for this! (And on a side note, I’m so excited that you’re gonna give The Things They Carried a go….it is so so good!)
You found the magic, Denise! I love how you begin with a green thumb satisfying the plants’ needs and move onto freedom. These lines sound reassuring:
Freedom tastes gentle
It’s never-ending relief
instantaneous sustenance
of hope and relief
Thank you for your continuos search of justice!
Bry, this was FUN! My poem pleases only me, and that’s okay.
When laughter atrophies
Silent needles of wisdom
Scribble gently
Against my wet and bristly wool:
I hear the sweet chirp of winking sunshine.
“And that’s okay” yes it sure is, although I’m sure it will please everyone who reads it. I love the description in “silent needles” and “scribble gently” 😀
I love that the sun is chirping as it coyly (flirtatiously) and you found a way to intrigue the reader in a brief, wonderful five-line poem. Something tells me this is just the beginning of a larger project…atrophies / silent needles of wisdom is imply fantastic.
I love the alliteration with the W words in this poem. It whispers beautifully! And I love the idea of hearing “the sweet chirp of winking sunshine”!
Allison, it pleases me too. So sweet. I love to “hear the sweet chirp of winking sunshine.” Magic!
Allison,
Love your line “my poem only pleases me” because we should care most about how writing poetry serves our hearts and souls. The image in “laughter atrophies” conjures all kinds of thoughts in my mind. I am trying to hold onto the laughter until my. final breath. There’s a mournful tone in the poem with all images speaking the language of grief. It’s a dialect I know and share, so thank you for that.
Allison, wow, what a powerful poem you’ve created within a few lines. I love every line and adore “I hear the sweet chirp of winking sunshine”. Keep scribbling gently!!!
Silent needles of wisdom
Scribble gently
What a concept!
“Silent needles of wisdom / scribble gently” love love love. Your poem speaks to me of writing in the morning – scribbling gently in my notebook to capture/process the needling thoughts nicking my brain.
“When laughter atrophies”. Wow–that line gave me pause! Great poem.
I tried to imagine what an Ethical ELA care package would hold.
Ten words: Journal, polaroid, Flair Pens, washi tape, novel, Nerd Clusters, Mad Libs, coffee beans, coffee cup, stickers
Laying gently in my hands,
a journal with a maternal smile
Stickers tucked in the back
Not to be disturbed, eternal fixtures
Polaroids lay down against smooth, dense
pages with lazy coffee cup ring stains
One place to be messy; a safe passage
to share thoughts, poems, and dreams
A Flair Pen whispers slow down,
brew me like coffee grounds
Let the words roast and bathe in a waterfall
Simple thoughts of heavy rains
Washi tapes provides a whimsical boundary
dividing the pages and separating dreams
Acidic stripes between my mad-lib mind
A careful person’s one place of carelessness
This private escape shared once a year
With a crunch of keys
On an April day
Wow, perfect for Verselove. Among my favorite lines: “A Flair Pen whispers slow down,
brew me like coffee grounds
Let the words roast and bathe in a waterfall”and “A careful person’s one place of carelessness”. So lovely.
Thank you, Angie!
Ashley, Let the words roast and bathe in a waterfall and Acidic stripes between my mad-lib mind are magical, indeed (hence the Magic Box did its job). I love that you crafted a poem for all of us to appreciate and feel during this year’s #VerseLove.
Thank you so much!
Oh, I love the idea of an Ethical ELA care package. That is another prompt I might have to try, as mine would surely have Earl Grey tea, instead of coffee beans, and I’ll have to think of what kind of candy…
Anyway, your poem is beautiful. I like how you played with words and chose a poem with meaning, but also magic, like:
“a journal with a maternal smile”
“let the words roast and bathe in a waterfall”
“my mad-lib mind”
and
“with a crunch of keys”
I’m guessing if you would have written a poem about Verselove, these images may not have appeared saved for this magical prompt. Love this, Ashley!
Denise, I agree with you about this prompt! I don’t think I would have come up with any of those lines without the structure of the prompt!
Oh, Ashley. I journal regularly and your poem so eloquently captures what a journal comes to mean. I felt a kinship with you when I read, “a safe passage to share thoughts, poems, and dreams…” and you admonition to “slow down, brew me like coffee grounds” genius. What a great metaphor. In a few weeks, I’m doing a workshop on journaling. I’d love your permission to share this with the young moms who will attend.
Hi, Rita,
I’m humbled by your kind words. Of course you may share.
Ashley,
Thinking about an Ethical ELA care package brings a smile to my face. You capture the catharsis in writing w/ images of flair pens, etc. My favorite line is “Let the words roast and bathe in a waterfall.” I’m a waterfall chases, so that image speaks to my soul.
This phrase is so true to the joy of writing! (My two favorite things–writing and coffee!)
A Flair Pen whispers slow down,
brew me like coffee grounds
Bryan,
What a fantastic way to steer people towards creative wordplay! The pre-writing steps offer a bounty of words to be a great word bank for inspiration. What you created with yours is simply phenomenal. Mine is pure whimsy done during planning period after spending the morning in safe zones due to severe weather in the area.
creative noise
silly sweatshirt ice-skating through the stain
athletic Stanley water bottle liberating the rain
staccato-ish bubble gum whispering “let my warmth comfort you.”
fire fondness floats toward the 1980 school picture in the drain.
“i didn’t mean to hurt him” metamorphosing to the typewriter brain
nostalgic love liberating yet profane
cinnamony affection gliding to the dull
silver fruity butterflies clickety-clack down the lane.
~Susan Ahlbrand
2 April 2024
Omg the mix of senses here is wow. “Bubble gum whispering” and “cinnamon my affection” my favorites. I’m drawn to the haunting feeling of the picture in the drain and the quote after.
Susan, each and every one of the magical lines, to me, could be a feeder towards another poem…another exploration. The language invites that and the line that sticks out to me as WHAM is
There are so, so many intriguing questions about the way these words hit the page and put a story (a picture) in my mind. Thank you.
Susan, I love the “athletic Stanley water bottle” and “typewriter brain” One of my favorites that made me smile and feel it is “cinnamony affection” Beautiful! I think you really had fun with the wordplay, even after the severe weather scare. I trust it has passed now.
Susan, Your poem’s title is perfect. I love the specific images of things, but the sounds they create are magnificent. Really adore your final line: “silver fruity butterflies clickety-clack down the lane.”
Loving these–athletic Stanley water bottle (the bane of every middle school teacher’s existence right now…) and cinnamony affection–sounds like a fun time!
Omg Bryan, that was probably the most interesting process I’ve ever taken part in. I read the prompt earlier today and was like I’ll probably pass but what better reason to write poetry than to avoid grading essays? Thanks. It’s clear I’m totally scared of writing something that doesn’t make sense so that’s why my poem turned into basically a bunch of stories. I love your first stanza and your use of italics and parentheses.
My box:
Student – movement, mutant, wouldn’t
Book – brilliant, braille, blue
Technology – electronics, invention, machine
Sushi – cylindrical, squishy, rolly
Rainbow – skittles, cotton candy, bubble gum
Basket – silent, scratchy, metallic
Fire – ow, burnt wood, melted flesh, bitter
Mermaid – give me your legs, wouldn’t you like to live underwater
Umbrella – pointy, waterproof, wet
Balloon – flying, popping, inflating, decorating, celebrating
The students filter in,
awaiting the exciting day before Spring Break,
inflating balloons,
decorating,
accidentally popping a couple,
and that’s ok.
We’re all celebrating a break from school.
The movement is contagious –
on these rare occasions no one would consider anyone a mutant.
Everyone belongs today.
Would I like them to have fun reading books instead?
Of course but I didn’t always like reading.
I was never brilliant.
I always liked writing on my pointy roof under the blue sky
but reading wasn’t my thing, nor will it be most of theirs
and that’s ok.
I bonded with a few students during the fire drill in the rain
all umbrella-less and wet
we said screw it and walked in the muddy grass with our clean shoes
laughing at our frizzy hair and spotted glasses and books didn’t matter.
Other things did.
In her #hashtag acrostic today
a student told me she was an astrophysics lover and I don’t even know if that’s technology related but sounds like it.
Electronics, inventions, machines, space are all kind of this untouchable orb to me.
I wonder what it would be like to have that kind of passion at eleven years old, or even at 36 but I don’t
and that’s ok.
Another student added mermaids in her fairy tale. I haven’t read her story but I wonder if she likes to live underwater or if she’d rather have legs.
I told my students I used to work at a sushi restaurant in college.
They got a kick out of the name: Drunken Fish.
They couldn’t believe I got free food everyday.
It’s the only time I tried making sushi- those squishy cylinders always ended up looking like rolly pollies.
Making it’s an art, mine always fell apart
and that’s ok.
I told them to watch Fall of the House of Usher because I finally watched it last weekend – super late to the party, I know.
Some parts might be inappropriate but I couldn’t NOT recommend it, if they watching You, why not?
I didn’t give them all the gory details but one was on my mind, seared in my brain forever – Perry’s ghost with melted flesh and Morrie, burnt survivor, rightfully bitter, but still goes on to see many more years.
I saw a rainbow the other day
It was on the ground, not in the sky
Why?
Who knows, maybe my astrophysicist student but not me
and that’s ok.
I was going to make a post with the picture and a caption: taste the rainbow because I swear I could taste the skittles in my mouth when I saw it but
let me get back to our party
before the balloons are gone
before the baskets of cotton candy and bubble gum are gone
and I’m left in a silent room, no smell but metallic desks and this scratchy sweater
winter is coming in the southern hemisphere.
I’m sorry I forgot to warn that my poem contains some spoilers for the show The Fall of the House of Usher.
Angie, this was fascinating to read. I love all the “and that’s ok” Today’s prompt makes us all free to have “That’s ok’s”! I love what you did with all the inspiration. There are some lines that really stimulate emotion like “before…I’m left in a silent room, no smell but metallic desks and this scratchy sweater” Great story!
Well, I’m so glad you procrastinated grading with #VerseLove in mind. There’s so much to have a dance party with here, including
It just falls into the stanza offering insight to who you are as a writer. For many students, language is about control & preciseness because our schools hammer it into them that there’s a right way…a correct way…a collegiate way. I’ve always felt, no, there’s a playful way and I want students to be writers for life (to realize their words are healing). The poem is set up so beautifully, allowing your students and their ‘popped balloons’ be part of the way kids do school….and that’s okay. That’s okay. Thank you for sharing.
I love so much about this poem. Your experiences with your students and the assignments you’ve given them and the running thread of “and that’s ok” It really is what teaching feels like to me. I love “Let me get back to our party before the balloons are gone before the baskets of cotton candy and bubble gum..” So much good sensory details in this! And I must be really late to the party because I haven’t watched Fall of the House of Usher either but I do remember watching a movie of it when I was a kid. (And I think I watched it when I was eight or so and couldn’t sleep that night! Good old Poe!)
Amber, I love it all, but especially this part:
I was going to make a post with the picture and a caption: taste the rainbow because I swear I could taste the skittles in my mouth when I saw it but
let me get back to our party
before the balloons are gone
I love the repeating line. I’m saying it as I look at my living room as I sit here on Spring Break contemplating cleaning it up…….nah, I keep telling myself……I’ll do it tomorrow……and that’s ok. I am owning your line.
Bryan, this is a great prompt and way to get started writing with creative ideas. Thanks!
flowers
plastic men
blue paint
hairbrush
granola bars
emerald ring
straberries
blanket
mirror
water
Things
a bouquet of flowers
spent the hours
in sloshing water
while twenty plastic men
have been standing
on a glossy, cold mirror
after being covered in blue paint.
Oh, I wonder while sitting on my blanket
(after being covered in blue paint, deformed)
how I would be comforted and warmed
and feel as if it were my makeup.
Feeling the pointy bristles of a hairbrush
I get hold of the strawberries, sweet and juicy
dripping on my hands (such a thing!)
surrounding my scratching, emerald ring
and more delicious than the oaty granola bar.
Susan, this seems like a perfect mix of things that might not go together but sound like they do. Love your use of parentheses – the first adds a necessary meaning and love the line “and feel as if it were my makeup”. The imagery in the last stanza is amazing – “strawberries dripping” in the “emerald ring” and the “oaty granola bar”. Thanks for sharing!!
Susan, I think the title is perfect for reading this poem with a list of things in mind.
“Oh, I wonder…how I would be comforted and warmed” is beautiful.
Phew. This last stanza!
Amazing. Mysterious. Inviting. New. Original. I love it.
This is fun! I think if I am ever stuck in a traffic jam or loads of weekend traffic, I will play with words like this with whoever is in the car with me. What a fun way to interact with each other while exercising vocabulary and word play.
Today was an odd school day with students coming and going, so I offered the option for any of them to play with words with me. I’ll be back here later with my own (I hope), but thought I’d share what 2nd hour got this morning as a collaborative poem (9th grade English Language Arts):
Fruit
I was in Mexico when
I saw the coconut roll
like the nostalgic Friday.
With my last fuse
I shout, “Help!”
I end in the flat dirt;
with a sweet metal mango
I rest yelling.
“Sweet metal mango”?? Wow! Thanks for sharing this student collaborative poem! So cool!
Yes! It rolls off the tongue, just like that mango down the street. ha!
I love the brevity of this amber, and might play with tense with ‘shout’ and ‘end’ and ‘rest’. The word choice brought us to a moment that was fruitful. Originally. I wonder how many of us have seeing a coconut roll / like the nostalgic Friday. Beautiful wording.
Great points on the verb tense. I think changing them to past tense to keep it in line with the first stanza is powerful. It is great to have more than one educator involved in this collaboration with students.
I, too, was particularly fond of “a coconut roll / like the nostalgic Friday”.
“A sweet metal mango” Yes! Good for them! Love the fun your students had today with this. Good for them!
It was fun to have fun with them and words in a new way. And to bring some imagination into their day, especially at the high school level.
What is so enchanting here to me is coconut roll. The first time I read it, I felt it drop from a tree and roll across the ground. The second time, I see a delicious dessert like a Swiss Cake Roll, only coconut. How fun to invite your students into the delight and dessert of word play and poeming together.
Thank you! It does bring in some sensory elements. I think that is playful!
Here is a collaborative poem with students in my 6th hour, 9th grade English Language Arts class.
“Triumph”
Protecting it like a rock
trying hard to get
a ticket away from
the note that says, “how dare you” —
a pass to leave class.
Victory! Freedom!
Trying hard;
trying hard…
soft…
pillow…
Zzz.
Bryan, I can see why students would find this approach interesting! What a novel way to get them to consider how words can be used in so many ways – same word: noun, verb, adjective. WOW! I kept it simple because of other commitments today, but I can see how such a poem could have grown and grown and grown! Thanks for the idea.
Ten words: pen, pencil, pin, penny, program, palm, peas, purse, picture, poem
Who Woulda Thunk It?
Pen to poem to write today
Pencil scratches out that guy from the picture
Pin punches my purse to hold it at bay
Penny short to buy the peas to cook in the pan
Program with my name flutters right in the palm of my hand
Anna, I used to host perfectly pointless pre-prom, post-portfolio pancake parties with my seniors …the p-alliterations always ring music to my ears. This is a fun project to pull out on days when you have a little more time for word play (and it helps to get ideas to the page). I know there are many programs with your name fluttering in the palm of your hand.
Anna, fun! This sounds like a children’s nonsense rhyme. So fun to read and say aloud with all the /p/ sounds and the rhymes. Cute!
Anna,
The /P/ alliteration throughout creates a delightful tongue twister. Bravo!
control, patrol, vitrol
ring, random, rinse
glasses, windows, peepers
icons, distorted, symbolic
lotion, lilac, mint,
spines, stale, sterile
____________________________
When his cruise control of
life’s road fails, vitrol spews,
patrolling ways to fortify
a compulsive spine.
Ringing hands, I rinse
mine of his pathology
lotioning with lilac mint
a fragrance of patience.
A shared existence is
glass, a window into ways
of being and distorted
truths we filter, symbolic
of the elusive magic of understanding.
Happy, Tuesday, Sarah. I love the following stanza
The idea of rinsing pathology and motioning with lilac mint is simply delicious (a work I use to describe language-play when it arrives unexpectedly. Such rich flavor with original wording. Beautiful.
Sarah, I can hear you in these words, “a window into ways / of being.” The magic box has helped you organize these thoughts and beautiful words with some magical connections. “I rinse mine of his pathology” and “patrolling ways to fortify / a compulsive spine.” Wow.
Sarah, the rinsing of pathology and replacing it with lilac mint patience is a divine response to anger. It makes me think of how many people would get in line for a bottle of lotion like this – – and how the world needs it more than ever. I need it more than I think I ever have before, and sometimes I cause the need for it (hubby would agree). This is just beautiful – – I can see the high road taken, the kitchen window allowing a breeze while the hands are rinsed and the scent fills the lungs with the good medicine of kindness.
Sarah, what a powerful opening! I love the active words throughout this from, the fortify a compulsive spine to lotioning with lilac mint” You have a wonderful blend of destructive and fortifying words. Absolutely adore you final line: of the elusive magic of understanding.” And your “truths we filter” is provocative!
Jeesh, Sarah, this is so beautiful. You definitely use the words in a “playful” manner, but your product is deep and full of meaning. Far from nonsense!
Constraints often result in interesting constructs. Thanks, Bryan.
Imagining the eclipse
The hound might shift towards the dimming light—
not timely, a sky chime,
mime of odd climate.
Beyond might be a familiar fence, splintered,
marking us here,
grounding us near the sparrow
with a morning spiel,
whose song might seem split, spilt from the second rail
of the fence, its view losing luster.
Beware of the sun, say the doctors
even with glasses, dark as pre-dawn. Midday dark,
midday obscured. A blanket, a cloak.
Tender and centered, will the primroses close,
then awaken? Their dusty pink unlocked
by the eclipse? Or will the sun withdraw
behind mist, a lip-soothing layer
between us and the sky wizardry?
Outside our tent in the Hill Country,
dusty or dank,
still, awaiting
transition.
I am loving this, Cindy.
I can’t say I ever really heard the sp-alliteration, but it is fluidly poignant here. Sparrow/Spiel. YES!
Cindy, the magic box did some magic here, and you were the conduit. So many beautiful words. I picture you in the Hill Country enjoying the eclipse next week. Beautiful imagery.
Cindy, your poem is like a magic box, waiting to reveal one more provocative thought and image. I love your title and the spell you’ve created with your words. Love “sky wizardry” and your end is a jaw-dropper!
Thank you, as always, PhD-Big-Brother, for giving me the opportunity to imagine and sit and think and love and read and write. Thank you also to Sarah for allowing me (and all of us) to exist in this space–imaginary or otherwise. I stuck with rhyming for part two of this opportunity. It just felt right for me and is often how I think (in relationship). And then the poem just kind of happened.
My invisible box items
My 10 items with rhyming words
Crandall’s Invisible Box by Me
Well, sit right back and you’ll hear a tale–
Oh, wait–not this show just yet,
but it is a bit of a wreck.
It includes various fonts and fears and wants
and gentle winds off a non-distant shore.
Like Emily, Amherst’s, not mine–
This is riddled with dashes galore,
but that’s how I think
lofty and bold–
A prayer
and a bird song
and hope.
Hi, Keith,
I am a big fan of the dash and love the way you are using it for shifts and thought breaks here. Such a lovely rhythm you’ve created. And that last word “hope” is what I will carry with me today.
Sarah
I love this final poem and the process that went into it. The ending stanza is so powerful!
Keith! One of the effects I always found with this prompt (and its use with students) is it breaks them out of some habits and introduces them to new ones. I always tell them, “I’m not into the meaning as much as I’m after your willingness to put new word-connections onto the page). You do this here (and break out of o poem into a crisp, airy kiss to the universe.
This is just the magic of poets and poems. Love it — riddled with dashes galore!
I love that some poems today have some musical inspiration 😀 love your last three lines and the spaces.
Oh, this is like Emily. I love the dashes and especially the sweet ending. I am always a fan of hope in poems.
Keith, one of my favorite shows of all time! I hear the music! Of all hope in poems, I don’t believe there is any that brings hope closer than birdsong…..after all, it’s the thing with feathers, right? Love your poem!
Thanks for this amazing formula. My students will have fun with this form, I’m sure. I love “daffodil dork pollinating pages like Dionysius.” Can you tell I’m babysitting a 4 year old grandson?
Whistle While you Walk
Wisteria hangs like lavender bubbles
marching across the dog-ditch.
Like a child, blossoms whisper,
“I exist to please you.”
We are all monster trucks traveling
through construction, a long and dusty road.
Take me on a spring walk,
blow a dandelion–a train whistle
to the wild world.
Margaret, the lavender bubbles in the first line are so apt – – that is a way of seeing the world through an artist’s eyes, and I’m so glad you called them that. They are everywhere here, including the invasive Chinese Wisteria that is about like Kudzu for taking over a place. Next time I’m riding down Highway 362 with my husband, I’m going to look at him in all seriousness and ask if he has taken time to enjoy the lavender bubbles. And then I’ll tell him my Louisiana Bayou friend observed that this is what Wisteria is (ironically, one of the small towns in our county has a Wisteria festival, and it’s this weekend)!
Oh, Margaret, I want to be on this dandelion-blowing spring walk, leaving behind the monster truck-traveling in search of whispering blossoms. I am drawn to this wild world that we want to mow down and construct through and over. You remind us of what we need – a return to nature bubbling.
Oh, Margaret. How lovely this image of “lavender bubbles” come alive in their march!
Sarah
Love the picture you paint for us. Especially captured by – I exist to please you. The wild world, indeed.
Wait. Wisteria hangs like lavender bubbles / marching across the dog-ditch / like a child, blossoms whiter, ‘I exist to please you.’
I am in love with the way your magic tiptoes across the page Absolute joy.
Ohhh!!! “lavender bubbles”!!! I particularly enjoy the imagery of these words. And the touch of the whisper is fun.
Margaret, I came so close to pulling wisteria out of my magic box. I saved it for later. I am glad the vine is here for you today, “existing to please you” – oh, those gorgeous lavender blossoms do whisper like a child! Seeing the world through your little grandson’s perspective is both wondrous and enlightening: are we not all monster trucks traveling through construction on a long and dusty road?? That road is another of my heart’s favorite metaphorical images.
Beautiful, Margaret! How the magic happens so randoms with the words listed and the numbers connecting them. I love the metaphor of the middle stanza. And that last stanza, so beautiful–the dandelion as a train whistle to the wild world. Fun! I hope we’ll get to read some from your students.
Margaret, I love wisteria and want to plant it in my front yard. Thank you for bringing up its “lavender bubbles”! In my poem, I mention jacaranda tree, which I think is wisteria, or they are from the same family.
I would go “on a spring walk, blow a dandelion;” it sounds so enticing right now.
Bryan, wow! I had no idea this poem was swirling into wanting to live anywhere, and look. Up it pops. What a ride to get there, too. Fun and engaging! I can see having students bring in a bag of random things and putting them out on their desks to write these. Such fun! Thanks for hosting us today and investing in us as writers!
Turning the Tables
vintage green stamps in rose-hued sunglasses
sewing thimble, dogtag, thumbs of young lasses
Cracker Jack prizes
trinkets and toys
but pencils for scholarly girls and boys
crocheted tablecloth clamps
stitched by all our Aunt Mabels
clothespinned lottery tickets turn all the tables
Kim…it’s the first line for me…”vintage green stamps in rose-hued sunglasses.” WOW. I’ve always found that such game play (including the title) is part of the poetic magic. I debated on what prompt to do on day 2, but went with the crazier one in hopes that #verselove would transcend writing into a lesson for kids everywhere. Woot Woot.
Is it bad if I sang your first line to the tune of “My favorite things”?! I don’t think so because it speaks to just about musical your poem is–and I LOVE IT!
Kim,
I read this one aloud after I noticed the S repetition in the first line. It is so fun and musical in the building up to the “turn all the tables.” Such movement here.
Sarah
Such vivid images and I love the last image so much!
The lines “Cracker Jack prizes / trinkets and toys / but pencils for scholarly girls and boys” bring me to my middle school days of private school when the academics were driven, driven, driven. How I loved snack time when my mom would send me with the Cracker Jack boxes and those little prizes to break up the intense studies. Thank you for sharing this!
I totally heard the tune of these are my favorite things at line 5! Awesome…
Kim, so much fun here. Yes, who knew that this poem wanted to live here today! I love that first line too, and “all our Aunt Mabels” I knew just who that was. For me it is Aunt Thelma.
Kim, I love the very specific things you have catalogued in your poem. I can relate to so many images especially the crocheted tablecloth and the Aunt Mabels. Your final line is especially compelling. If only, we could have that one winning ticket. I see those tickets twirling:)
Wow – you had me at green stamps with a flood of memories of licking the stamps and filling the books to cash in for prizes that I can’t recall!
A fascinating collection of objects and people, Kim – it really does roll so wondrously from your pen! The rhyming and beats are perfect. That last line ending with lottery tickets, when the first one began with vintage green stamps, makes me wonder if fortunes are turning with the tables…
Oh, Kim, the tables are turning! I love the collection of items in your magic box. To me, these are treasures, who are a part of you. Thank you for sharing!
This is such a cool idea, Brian! I really enjoyed playing with ideas this morning!
Chiaroscuro
It used to be an open invitation–
cuddles with Lily,
the sharp scent of lilacs teasing
around the front-porch
rocking chair
come sit on me–what once
felt like a restrictive choker
now seems more like a
thin, fragile chain
the beat-up complexities of
adolescence
can still, sometimes,
be engulfed in a nest of
comfort, screeches of
laughter before the
solitude of sleep
Julie, I love the erratic truths here. The gamut ranges of restrictive to fragile, from complexities to comfort, to screeches of laughter and sleep. This is powerful, and I’m loving how the poem says so much about how we feel when we are unsettled and uncertain and we, like overtired toddlers who can’t make sense of the world, need sleep. Just sleep.
Boom! Julie. Phew. “The beat-up complexities of / adolescence / can still, sometimes, / be engulfed in a nest of / comfort….” The word-play is intriguing, original, inviting, and I love the mystery you provide…’felt like a restrictive choker.’ I enjoyed this immensely.
Lovely, Julie.
I am sitting in this moments and spaces of of the “come sit on me” and the “fragile chain” and that “nest of/ comfort”! Such images that offer a longing and elusiveness of the “sleep” in the final line as I make my own meaning of these lovely phrases.
Sarah
Julie! Wow! How you worked these words to work together. Also, I really like the joy that I’m reminded of from recent sleepovers with “screeches of / laughter before the / solitude of sleep.”
And oh how they (and we) grow so fast.
Beautiful! You have produced a time line between the restriction while sitting on a rocking chair to adolescence. I could hear the “comfort screeches of laughter before the solitude of sleep.”
Julie, you have created a magical poem of the complexities of Lily growing up. I love “in a nest of / comfort.” Your title is so great.
Julie,your poem evokes memories of parenting young ones. My favorite lines
“the best-up complexities of/adolescence/can still, sometimes,/be engulfed in a nest of/confirt, screeches of/laughter before the/solitude of sleep
Thanks for sharing.
Bryan, this was super fun! I didn’t give myself a lot of time to sit with this and that made it all the more exciting for me.
Items in my Magic Box:
I never meant to pop the unicorn
Never meant to purple the softness
I never wanted the shades to consume me
And I never wanted to fluff your dust
Or dust your fluff, was it?
I only ever meant to, wanted to, needed to
Click your lemony sweet clang.
Saba, what wonderful wordplay today! The shifting of parts of speech, nouns to verbs (purple) and interesting sound placement (clicking a clang) and reversals (fluff and dust) feel both whimsical and meaningful simultaneously. Such fun!
Thank you for reading, Jennifer! 😀
Saba, I was all up in the seriousness of the apology I thought was coming and then the clicking of the lemony sweet clang literally brought forth an audible chuckle, felt deep within the soul. Using clang as a lemony sweet noun that can be clicked is just a great way to start the day. Very original indeed!
Well, Dang, Saba! I’m now swirled in your never-meaning…especially the lemony sweet clang. And the first two lines are so original and clever….language that consumed me, too!
Thanks for sharing your list. Such a delicious last line. Yum!
Okay, but “Click your lemony sweet clang” though?!?! I would buy that album!
Saba,
So good to see you! I love the use of purple as a verb here. So unexpected and lovely.
Sarah
Haha these sounds are awesome!
What a fun poem, Saba!
I like the spice that comes with the lines, “And I never wanted to fluff your dust / or dust your fluff, was it?”
Saba, what fun! And what a great mentor poem for your students. It was fun to see your words italicized and see what you chose from. I also like “I never meant to…” and then what you “only ever meant to” do was a great format. I love how the combinations make new meaning. My favorite is “Never meant to purple the softness”
What great magic you wove with your words! You’ve created such a joyful and whimsical piece
Saba – that last line!! It’s wild! You built is up sp poerfulll in the preceding one – my mind is reeling! Poor unicorn – was it slapped or was it a ballon, popped? “Purple the softness”…gosh, I could dwell on that luscious sense for a loooong time. This is pure delight, all the way!
Bryan, this was a meandering path toward rabbit holes of dregs and fodder and so. much. fun. I fiercely love the unintentional bloom in verse (to borrow some of your words from lines 1 and 3) that will occur for every poet today. I wish I had a sense for how this unfolded for me but it just sort of spilled and like all spills, it’s a bit of a mess left for someone else to sort out.
raindrops exploring like bellyflops imploring their spinning tops (now soaring)
through chicory shadows, ethereal in the moonlight, playful in sunshine, emptying in childhood
the ancient tome welcomes:
climb on!
look up.
write your own opus in volumes &
scurry along the fiction,
find novels…
search forests of retro snowflakes frosting the air
in stardust, humming in icy galaxies, whirring through ancient molecules, each word groaning,
into a sun-softening
I just might have to borrow, “scurry along the fiction.” It’s what I do! And that stardust humming is magical. Wonderful sensual images in this. I want to go outside and find any of these things right now!
Ooooh, Jennifer, the retro snowflakes frosting the air is the one I want to hang onto. So much to love in this poem this morning. words groaning into sun softening reminds me of the words of a page softening like butter out of the cold. You manage to reach in and awaken all the feels this morning.
Jennifer….I just go goosebumps. Why? I think it has to do with the way the rhythm and play unfolded for you with these words…love love love “write your opus in volumes & / scurry along the fiction” (I realize, too, that the first couple of prompts help kids to find rhythm with rhyme and alliteration). More importantly, I simply wanted to free kids who felt like poetry tied them up in a chair. For me, it’s more about letting the cat in the hat inside to create chaos….I have a thing or two I need to let you know. FROSTING THE AIR IN STARDUST!
A found haiku:
Look up. Climb on. Scurry-
Search forests frosting the air
humming sun-softening.
Oh, wow, Jennifer. This is a masterpiece of strong word choice. Beauty spilled out. No need to sort out. Lovely.
Jennifer – so many ethereal phrases! It all seems a metaphor for writing…finding one’s story, one’s words, with ideas spinning, going back to childhood, into the farflung realms of possibility, reaching and wresting with words until finally they come as a “sun-softening.” I almost hear icy wind chimes in the wind…
Jennifer, I could watch “retro snowflakes frosting the air in stardust” for hours. So beautiful! I am tucking these words into my treasure box.
Bryan…I hardly know where to begin. The Magic Box is just that. I could sit here all day, rereading your words, riding the sounds and rhythms again and again, like I once did roller coasters (maybe I still will ride roller coasters; we shall see, this summer). I am awed. I could play with this forever but probably I should get dressed and go to work.
Here are the ten things I pulled out of my Magic Box: jewels, socks, dreams, a hermit crab, books, the ocean, Time, poetry, Narnia, and home.
Here goes…
Find the Magic Within
I discovered the jewels
right here at home
whispering rules, awaiting accruals
like longing, lingering talismans
to put in my pockets, protection from fools
I shall not suffer them, removing my saffron socks
barefootedly heading for another world
where winter is fading
adventure, a’waiting
already, I savor the welcoming salt
I wished, and the grail materialized
in my hand, like a poem
capturing the wellspring of my heart
hoping for rhythms of grace
with these words etched around the golden rim:
Write Me
Oh, this spiral shell of Time, wobbling on crustaceous legs!
It’s sweet as honey and bitter as medicine in tentative turn
luring me to press myself
between the musty pages
with my new ink, riding the roaring waves of the past
in the bubbling clean foam of Now.
“Oh, this spiral shell of Time, wobbling on crustaceous legs!” – such strong imagery here. Love the poem, Fran!
Fran, this is indeed magical, within every line. Your words never fail to etch the golden rim (I want this to be a title) – I imagine them whispering to you (write me) as you play with the prompt each morning before they spill, magically, for each of us.
Ok, that’s now my title 🙂 Thanks, Jennifer!
“ shall not suffer them, removing my saffron socks
barefootedly heading for another world
where winter is fading
adventure, a’waiting
already, I savor the welcoming salt”
is my favorite stanza. That word, saffron….I love it! And, welcoming salt is great. It reminds me of welcoming a baby into the world.
This is you, writing your memoir. It’s the movie trailer, Narnia as part of your soul, the invitation etched in the golden rim. I can see it. I can see you, your barefoot adventure, taking the new ink and filling the pages with all the stories of your life. This is the preface to your memoir, I hope. It is positively MAGICAL. A glimmer of hummingbirds is sprinkling prayersparkles all over this.
Fran, I am with you. I have 13 minutes to jump on a national call and I’m still in my sweats with a tuft of roadrunner hair sipping a mug of energy, and overwhelmed by the joy in these poems. whispering rules, awaiting accruals…with my new ink, riding the roaring waves of the past / in the bubbling clean foam of Now. The magic is dangerous, because the more you massage (and get massaged) by the words on the page, the more intriguing (and playful) it gets. I probably should water my head and get these hairs in place!
So many wonderful phrases emerged: “capturing the wellspring of my heart” and “spiral shell of Time.”
I am having a hard time putting it into words how much I enjoy reading your poem. It’s whimsical and playful, sad yet strong and hopeful. Thank you for sharing this with us today.
Wow, Fran, you did pull out magic today. Wasn’t this fun? I can keep reading yours, like riding a rhythmic and not at all scary roller coaster. “…my heart / hoping for rhythms of grace” I especially like the stanza where jewels and home are connected with the sweet rhymes. Did you make it to work on time?
So much beauty and surprise her, Fran. I love the phrases: protection from fools, welcoming salt, rhythms of grace, clean foam of Now. I love how your word choices took you on a journey, and you took us on a journey over the roaring waves.
This is truly lovely, Fran! The third stanza with the “grail” that “materialized / in [your] hand, like a poem / capturing the wellspring of [your] heart” is my favorite moment!
OK, this was fun…will definitely tuck this exercise away for the future. “daffodil dork” is funny! And, I like the light-hearted feel of play while sipping MY first cup of coffee.
I really thought I’d easily write silly. But, oooof! My fingers tapped into longing. Ah well. Thanks so much for the new way of finding poetic thoughts.
We found a way
You, listening, my face
deep in shadowed spaces
singing all the notes from desert
to mountain snow
so close
so close
to possibility
and grateful for a chance
this tiny chance
to be alive
This is really beautiful, Linda, and you made meaning out of the word collection. I, too, think “daffodil dork” has potential!
🙂
Kevin
Linda, I am hanging on to the hope in every line, for all I am worth: so close, so close… so beautiful.
Linda, the simplicity and complexity of your poem speaks beautifully, beginning with the “we” found from the “you,” listening to the repetition of “so close” and the emphasis narrowing into “tiny” before finding gratitude in living. This is a beauty of a poem. Truly.
Linda, celebrating life is awesome, but that tiny chance…..that tiny chance gets me thinking about the truly tiny chance it was that each of us is sitting here…..the biology lessons of how a person comes to be – – all the tiny chance is captured here, and when we think of how fortunate we are to be among the living, this poem brings it full circle to the depths of gratitude for the journey!
My face deep in shadowed spaces. Yes! Linda, this is the joy of playing magically. Sometimes the combinations lead you to new ways of writing the world around us. I like the brevity that resulted. The punch. And the first lines We found a way is so genuine, celebratory…the repetition of so close / so close. LOVE IT.
“singing all the notes from desert / to mountain snow” is such a BEAUTIFUL image and sound! Stunning imagery that I felt in my core. Thank you for that!
A call to being in the moment, present to “this tiny chance to be alive.”
Omg what a lovely poem, Linda!!
“You, listening, my face”
I love the word choice and punctuation here, ending with face and then following with
“deep in shadowed spaces” the rhyme, the alliteration, every line of this poem is beautiful. Thanks for sharing.
This is a poem of longing with magic box sweetness added. I agree, I think this is such a fun “new way of finding poetic thoughts.” Your poem is beautiful.
Linda, your poem is so heartfelt and beautiful! The tiny chance, while fragile, is still a huge change maker. I am celebrating this possibility with you. Thank you!
Small and beautiful and deep. “My face deep in shadowed spaces,” resonated with me and gave me a image of peace.
Way to get us going in crazy directions, Bryan!
🙂
Items in the Magic Box:
1guitar 2saxophone 3pencil 4notepad 5coffee cup 6flowers 7comic book 8newspaper 9banana 10tuner
Opening up a can of tuner guitar,
though, the banana saxophone sounds increasingly odd;
just jotting ideas down in the gutter of the newspaper
and reading only comics, remixing Archie in a notebook;
Creativity, blooming like a flowers in a coffee cup
Kevin
“Tuner guitar” is amazing – I think of opening a can of tuna. “Gutter of the newspaper” – brilliant. Archie-!! Gosh, I haven’t thought of him in ages…how sad! Your poem blooms so colorfully in these grounds.
Kevin the image of the banana saxophone and the can of “tuner” while remixing Archie is quite captivatingly trippy. I adore that last line.
Lines 1 & 3 stand out for me. What a fun poem to read!
banana saxophone really steals the show! Flowers in a cup of coffee…fun and beautiful.
Archie remixed is where my thoughts land. I’m a fan. I love it, and there are so many old GREAT classics out there that no one has remixed yet…..or, perhaps, set to music yet. But it sounds like the seeds are there. A musical remixed Archie.
What I love, Kevin, is just jotting ideas down in the gutter of the newspaper. And I love the idea of anything bloom in a coffee cup (except mold…which has happened when leaving a half drunk cup on the counter before heading out the house for a week). Here’s to the musicality of words! And to your writing. Happy #VerseLove
Oh, Kevin, I can see you jotting in the margins of the newspaper, while reading, sipping on coffee, munching on a banana. I love the magic you created in the ordinary.