Welcome to Verselove, a place for educators to nurture their writing lives and to advocate for writing poetry in community. We are gathering every day this April to write– no sign-ups, no fees, no commitments. Come and go as you please. All that we ask is that if you write, you respond to others to mirror to them your readerly experiences — beautiful lines, phrases that resonate, ideas stirred. Enjoy. (Learn more here.) And now, please welcome our first teacher-poet-host for the month: Jennifer!
Our Host: Jennifer Guyor Jowett
i carry your poetry within me(i carry it
in my mind)anywhere i go,you go
my friend(we are never without each other)
-Jennifer Guyor Jowett with a nod to E.E. Cummings
Inspiration
Welcome to #Verselove 2025. I am glad you are here. Let’s celebrate our words together.
As poets, we are noticers of words and verses. They catch our attention. They resonate. They allow us to breathe. They sing in a world stuck in B flat.
Process
Find verses that you love, that speak to you. Collect them in a pile or a list. Shuffle them into a new poem. You might even find some here today (and may even revisit this prompt at the end of the month after collecting 30 day’s worth).
This process is much like creating a spine/book title poem.
Jennifer’s Poem
A Life by Jennifer Guyor Jowett
(Part 1)
You are violets with wind above them
In thy beauty is the dilemma of flutes,
a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
(Part 2)
I feel like my veins are full of sand
and the word for moonlight is my name
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love
From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I in them,
and that is eternity.
(Epilogue)
We doctors know a hopeless case, if–
listen, there’s a hell of a good universe next door, let’s go…
(*Lines borrowed from Blake, Pound, Cummings, Bashir, Neruda, Sanchez, Whitman, Munch)
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to 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. 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. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers.
Used an academic article I used for my content area reading class (Sedita, 2024)
Complex and
Specialized
Growing demands of
reading,
writing,
listening,
speaking
Content specific
Disciplinary uniqueness
science, mathematics, visual arts, music, history, English, physical education
All different
All special
helping students access knowledge
meet standards and goals
Learning strategies to help them learn
Jennifer, your prompt inspired me so much. It took me a few days to get it together, but I finally did! I used book titles of books I had picked up Monday as well as song lyrics from my playlist I was listening to. It almost feels like fanfiction…and it’s very Taylor Swift coded. I hope you enjoy.
Kissing in your car again-
you all over me,
“let’s run—
run away from it all.”
Famous Last Words.
My tears ricochet off your cardigan
I am ash from your fire,
scattered over broken cobblestone,
no one to be.
Say a Little Prayer.
I breathe flames each time I talk
-you made me like that.
No one likes a mad woman
-you made me like that.
Run.
My Swordheart is no hoax.
Words collected from:
If you wish to be loved, love!
[For] the most beautiful people wear their hearts on their sleeves and their souls in their smiles.
Never go in search of love.
Life will find you the love you seek.
[And] let us forget, with generosity, those who cannot love us.
[For] there is no love without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without love.
There are only flowers for those who want to see them.
(*Lines borrowed from Seneca, Anthony, Atticus, Neruda, Gandhi, Matisse)
Unrealistic Expectations
A gilded cage, where dreams take flight, But gravity insists on night. “Just reach the stars,” the whispers say, While feet are bound in earthly clay.
A perfect bloom, in frozen ground, Where silent wishes make no sound. “Be flawless, bright, a shining gleam,” Ignoring cracks within the seam.
The mirror shows a painted face, A borrowed smile, in borrowed space. “Achieve the heights, where eagles soar,” Yet fragile wings can take no more.
A whispered promise, soft and low, Where seeds of discontent will grow. “Your path is smooth, your burden light,” A phantom solace in the night.
The endless chase, a phantom prize, Reflected in deceptive eyes. “You must succeed, you must surpass,” A hollow echo, built on glass.
Really sad poemI was notredy to wenden on my pilgrymage.I needed a vacation. I needed life insurance.
What I had was a—
a—
son.
but really (Bigly):
I wanted Sleep.
No corage in that.
I know that over there
He will wipe every tear from their eyes.
But the four AM cries of my son
worm through the double foam of earplugs.
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close
In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes,
Chaucer
Chandler
Revelation
Geoffrey Brock—Homeland Security
Keats—To Sleep
Wow! The first few lines were not broken up how I wanted! Allow me to repost (apologies).
Really sad poem
I was not redy to wenden on my pilgrymage.
I needed a vacation. I needed life insurance.
What I had was a—
a—
son.
but really (Bigly):
I wanted Sleep.
No corage in that.
I know that over there
He will wipe every tear from their eyes.
But the four AM cries of my son
worm through the double foam of earplugs.
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close
In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes.
Chaucer
Chandler
Revelation
Geoffrey Brock—Homeland Security
Keats—To Sleep
Ephraim, this mix of old school poets and writers with current ones makes for a really interesting combination. I can hear the parental responsibility here, the weight of the world. The dashes to make us pause and feel the struggle of what is had (a son) versus what is needed (vacation, insurance, sleep) solidifies all of it. Wonderfully written!
Ephraim,
I absolutely loved this. The unexpected juxtapositions were fire.
Your use of Chaucer is brilliant! The poem lines flow so well together!
Trying again, it looks like my first attempt (with photo) did not work…
Murder Mystery
The Life Impossible
Glass Girl.
In the Dream House
I’ll Push You!
Love in the Time of Serial Killers
Everyone in My Family had Killed Someone
(to study) The Science of Murder!
©️Jennifer Kowaczek April 2025
Thank you, Jennifer, for starting us off with a fun prompt. I got a late start, writing this just before bed, so I chose to go with a book spine poem. I will revisit today’s prompt later this week.
Authors in order of titles used:
Matt Haig
Kathleen Glasgow
Carmen Maria Machado
Patrick Gray & Justin Skeesuck
Alicia Thompson
Benjamin Stevenson
Carla Valentine
Jennifer, I like that Glass Girl can exist as if you are addressing her. Your sparse use of punctuation causes me to read this in a specific way and adds to the tension of the murder mystery. What a family this must be, to kill just to study it.
This is my first #VerseLove ever! Happy NapOWriMo, y’all!
Finding My Voice
Dear Board of Education,
Some words live in my throat
Breeding like adders.
Some words
Bedevil me.
No one will ever
remember a test. Repeat. Stories,
poems, projects, experiments,
mischief, yes, but never a test.
I said, I cried aloud, may I not cause you pain ye beloved ones, who are seated to listen; may the brilliant humming-birds come soon.
Like young sparrows bursting from shell.
Then you begin, slowly, to read the whole story.
So we sang
Until the bus arrived.
Credit to:
Naomi Shihab Nye—Alive
Audre Lord—Coal
Ancient Nahuatl Poem (Unknown)—Cuicapeuhcayotl
Mary Oliver—Breakage
Nikki Giovanni—Her Dreams
This is a perfect poem for today. Thank you for sharing.
Julie,
Welcome to VerseLove! There’s a lot to really like in this poem. The first stanza with words breeding like adders is such an arresting image. But I think the plain truth of “No one will ever remember a test” is the thought that really captures the moment.
Julie,
welcome to verselove! Glad you are here.
Perhaps we are poetic kindred spirits as I also included lines by Naomi Shihab Nye and Nikki Giovanni in my poem.
I like how your poem has us considering words and stories in different contexts, I love how the frustration of addressing the board of ed ends with the joy and peace of
Welcome, Julie! Have you coined a new phrase, NapOWriMo?!! I am struck by the words breeding like adders and both the feel and visual that brings to start your poem. The shift that follows, the hope of not causing pain, the growth within the young sparrows and the reading of the whole before the burst into song is beautifully metaphoric. We move from formal (Dear Board… and tests) to the celebratory. This poem is a brilliant humming bird.
Jennifer, thank you for kicking things off for us for this month of poetry and community! I love the poem that you’ve assembled and how you’ve fit those lines together–the sand and the growth and the eternity and the universe!
Make Good Trouble
I got so much trouble on my mind, refuse to lose,
America, sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth, still
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth–
Who gets the right to defend and the right of resistance
has always been about the dollars and the color of your pigment.
Who will go out there and speak laws of motion
and relativity in the streets?
A dirty boy who comes down on the side of dissonance
I can’t even relax without sirens off in the distances,
I pledge allegiance to no land, no border cut by force
to draw blood I pledge allegiance to no government…
Before it is too late, the path of righteousness, gone cold,
and everywhere a forked tongue, split road–
I find pages of history ripped out and rewritten,
in the glovebox of your company car,
A page is a monument in the face of a white horizon
meant to erase us.
Those are the poems I didn’t write
and this is the one that I did,
the one with the breathtaking last line
that you get as a tattoo…
Leave evidence.
OOPS! Forgot to add attribution! Lines are borrowed from Chuck D, Claude McKay, Macklemore, Yusef Komunyakaa, El-P, Killer Mike, Safia Elhillo, Marcus Wicker, Sean Avery Medlin, Fred Joiner, and Alexis Pauline Gumbs
That forked tongue really made me give pause. And then your last line! Nicely done.
Dave, I could hear the rhythmic influence build while reading (shout out to the artists you selected). Such powerful choices. I’m most drawn to “I find pages of history ripped out and rewritten/in the glovebox of your company car.” Phew! The word company carries so much here, the weight of corporate America, the erasure. And that last line!
Your poem is STRONG. The assembly of lines you pieced together work to display big ideas that some are too nervous to mention. I can feel the angry exploitation you have depicted through the text you have chosen to display, and I also appreciate how you bring even more power to your poem in its last bit. In its last bit, you bring light to the fact that all of your previous lines came from other writers who have had similar, if not the same, experiences as you. By doing this you emphasize the large number of individuals who have been affected by a corrupt corporate America with issues relating to racism as well and injust American pride.
Hi again,
I opened Kwame Alexander’s book, Out of Wonder, and stole lines from are Kwame, Chris Colderley, and Marjory Wentworth. I absolutely loved this prompt and want to do it again and again!
For those of you who think it’s late…it’s still light in Los Angeles (6;30p.m.) so we are still able to read, post, and comment. It’s never too late.
Poetry is…
Let loose your heart
pens scratching paper
so we never forget
Make a paint box out of letters
pay attention to the smallest things
your pen becomes a wand in your hand
Listen to the ancient silence
and the miracle of morning
Listen to the rivers
in spare minutes
Make a song from the light
poetry is remembering the things that matter
© Stacey L. Joy, 4/1/25
“Make a song from the light / poetry is remember things that matter.” THIS IS #VERSELOVE. I’m here for all the JOY, always!
Stacey, I love what you created here with these beautiful lines. Your poem gives me hope–we have it made if we “pay attention to the smallest things” and “[m]ake a song from the light.” Poetry is about remembering things that matter – thank you for reminding. Cheers to #VerseLove, my friend!
Stacey,
I love all the action verbs that for me function as an instruction manual for capturing poetic inspiration. Gorgeous and ethereal.
Ooh! I love the paintbox full of letters. Your admonitions to listen are great, too.
Stacy,
Love this! “Make a paint box out of letters…your pen becomes a wand in your hand” What a great stanza!
Stacey, what could be more accurate in describing the creation of a poem than the lines you’ve gathered here! My eye is drawn to the second stanza (it’s the letter paint box and all the fun that ensues) but every line holds depth–oh, that ancient silence, the river listening! Beautifully arranged!
I love that you wrote a poem about writing poems! It truly shows the love you have for creating poetry and emphasizes the emotional release you experience from creating poetry. It is very cool. Your writing shows that you appreciate the beauty in the “little” things, which as we all know, is huge.
Thank you Jennifer for opening up day one! I appreciate this type of pile poem, as you said “As poets, we are noticers of words and verses.”. I love love love collecting quotes, writing them down and sticking them up any place I can find in my room. Leading into my poem for the day! My poem will be very scattered but these are currently most if not all of the sticky note quotes I have in my room. I definitely enjoyed putting this puzzle of a poem together so thank you again Jennifer!
critical thinking
ask “why?”
there has to be action
to lead to change
Supplication
keep trying
“be”
live in the moment
never Floating (stay conscious)
Gratitude
Allah has put that thought in your brain
you have the potential
make use of the known
“do”
Patience
Asleep, I really like “sticky notes quotes” in your comments for some reason. Your line “keep trying ‘be’ really makes me stop and think. Thanks for your poem.
As a fellow quote collector (maybe all of us here are!) – I love this compilation! My favorite part of your poem is the 3 one liners in italics: supplication, gratitude, patience. A recipe for peace, maybe.
Aseel, I love the reminder that “you have the potential/make use of the known.” What an extraordinary reminder to begin each day. Your placement of quotation marks and use of italics cause me to return to those words–the actions associated within the quotations and the reminders in the italics. I can see why you keep these posted around your room.
Oh, I *knew* there was a purpose for the poems I’ve saved on Instagram! I could write more and more and more, but I’m coming here late & have to sleep… So here is my start for the first of the month:
Line Collector: talk to me
I know what it’s like to stand
You do not have to walk on your knees
Don’t bend; don’t water it down
Float a little above this difficult world
Don’t hesitate. Give in to it.
Know what it is to be a fern.
Find a place to sleep where it is quiet
Listen to the enormous waterfalls of the sun
Ask, am I lonely?
My insignificance thrills me
Look up, call it enough
Listen I love you joy is coming
Lines from Ama Codjoe, Mary Oliver, Franz Kafka, Richard Brautigan, Rosemary Wahtola Trommer, Joy Sullivan, Adrienne Rich, James Crews, Kim Addonizio
Amanda, I’m just about to head to sleep (reading a bit first) and this is such a beautiful poem to lure me there. There’s such a softness in the floating and ferning (necessary in this difficult world). And “look up, call it enough” gives me the permission I need to end this day while the reminder that joy is coming is the perfect calming end note.
Amanda,
Hi, and thank you for the warm gift your poem delivers to me this evening. I adore the ending…wondering about the freedom we might gain from enjoying insignificance! Love that.
Amanda,
This line speaks to me:
”Float a little above this difficult world”
I’m trying to do that, and felt that power in the lines you shared. I’m gonna scope out your insta to see which poets you’re following.
Ah, Jennifer. Thanks for kicking off day one…I was afraid I would not get to the post, but I grabbed a book of my shelf and said, “Crandall. Try to sound smart.” I found myself saying ‘dilemma of flutes,’ over and over again as I read your poem from your own prompt. As one who walks to the beat of a different flautist, I love the way that sounds. I hope join the party earlier tomorrow, but just returned from a 12-hour day and said, “It’s my favorite time of the year.”
Nital Noisufni
b.r.crandall
Back again, creating poetic monsters, are we?
Ready to see and conquer (while we till have a chance to be free).
Time to turn V-words: Veni, vidi,, vici
(oh, gosh, another school day & I still need to pee).
But I’m here to be versed once again for the long haul
thankful for short time to write life with some ‘y’all.
Ars longa, vita brevis.
Yes, there’s another pain in my pelvis.
And shoot. I had to teach (these hips aren’t from Elvis)
Illegitimi non carborundum,
We need this month (to counter the dumb)…
We don’t need bastards to take our spirits down.
I’m here for 30 days; it’sthe way of this clown.
We language lovers here, thinking ourselves into existence,
(shouting out to J.G. Jowett with love…1st day, her brilliance).
Cogito ergo sum.
I can’t afford eggs or ham.
& I’m not sure how poetic my Latin is,
but there from a book I have (which one? none of your biz).
Ah, it’s good to be back here, typing from this April chair.
Hello, Verse Lovers…glad to be back…it’s another year.
(now I need sleep)
I love how you weave your words through the poem to capture your joy of returning to Verse Love. I’m excited to write with you again this April!
Love the interspersed Latin and the nods to the physical needs that can’t hold us back from the mental and emotional sustenance we gain from writing together! So glad to be writing with you again!
I enjoyed every bit of this, especially your shout out here -“(shouting out to J.G. Jowett with love…1st day, her brilliance).” What a kind and caring touch within a poem. Why I love this community!
Bryan, with all of that Latin, you can only be smart! I love the playfulness of your writing, the tossing in of Elvis so fluidly, if only for the rhyme. Illegitimi non carborundum might be my new favorite saying (and for some reason, my brain wants to see your name in there, probably because of all the consonants, but my brain wants to read it as crandallundum instead– don’t let them get you!). So glad you are back.
Yay for Verselove! Your poems always have such a lovely amount of cheek to them and an energy that I think I’d recognize as yours even if your name wasn’t there. There’s so much I love about your poem, but “We don’t need bastards to take our spirits down” is probably my favorite line. Who doesn’t love a good poetically chosen curse word?
You are a hoot! Always and forever your fan! Happy you made it here tonight. See you EVERYDAY in April.
Et tu, poopey?
that allusion was gold
What a fun poem that captures beautifully the love–and need–we have for VerseLove.
Hi, Bryan! I am taking this as my motto for the upcoming month and years: “We don’t need bastards to take our spirits down.” It’s indeed so good to be here with all poetry friends. Good Night…shshsh )))
Cogito ergo sum.
I can’t afford eggs or ham.
That was a diabolical turn, Crandall!!! Looking forward to your rhymes, coded in latin or not, for the next month. This one was fun!
I love the humor you put into this. Your poem was enjoyable, engaging, relatable, and silly. Your rhymes were clever, and I very much enjoyed them!
Jennifer,
I love this prompt and your poem was captivating. These lines –” I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,/ in secret, between the shadow and the soul — were deliciously eerie.
I had hoped to get to writing sooner today, but my day got away from me. I intend to come back to this prompt, but this is all I have in me for today.
Some say
Pain — has an Element of Blank–
to disguise itself as a shard of sky
The fog comes one on a side
under the smoke, dust all over his mouth,
laughing with white teeth
fading away into the gray
— maybe love can’t
Some say the world will end in fire
Lines borrowed from Emily Dickinson, Clint Smith, Carl Sandburg, Nikki Giovanni, Sarah Kay, and Robert Frost
Your poem has created new life out of these lines! They flow so well together, and the last line is especially poignant!
Ooh…I love the Dickinson open! I think my favorite, though, is the personification of fog…:”laughing with white teeth fading away into the gray.” Gorgeous!
Tammi, what you had in you was tremendous! That opening stanza is so powerful. I’m drawn to the – used here (acknowledging Dickinson) as it tempts me to read the lines using them together, separate from the rest of the poem, and I want to decipher the meaning of that. Love to see some of Carl Sandburg’s Chicago in here.
This is amazing. Love what you’ve woven together. Particularly “Pain — has an Element of Blank–
to disguise itself as a shard of sky” – if only I could reach for this sky metaphor in the midst of pain. Beautiful poem.
Tammi! This gave me goosebumps! The imagery is absolute fire (pun intended). The juxtaposition of the dust and the laughing white teeth is garish and perfectly unsettling. And that gut-punch of a final line. Everything about this is brilliant.
This flows so naturally, Tammi. I really love
I just had to Google it to discover it was Clint Smith! What a perfectly unique way of describing a drone!
Tammi, each line is worth a slab of gold in this newly-crafted poem. I found myself drawn to these lines: “fading away into the gray / — maybe love can’t.” They will keep me thinking for a while. Thank you!
Tammi,
I really like the tone of your poem. “shard of sky” is such a poignant image, and I notice how “disguise” and “fog” work together. Lots of elements (fig, sky, fire) working off each other. Very clever!
Sometime last year, I started collecting images of poems I saw on social media, and that photo album was perfect for today. I also realized how dark are the poems I collect, so, thus, is the dark poem I have formed from some collected lines. Here is my untitled poem.
The world is at least
Fifty percent terrible
You are angry and anxious
because you never agreed
to live in a burning home
while the people who should care
pretend the fire doesn’t exist.
The world is at least
Fifty percent terrible
I’m so tired of waiting,
Aren’t you,
For the world to become good
And beautiful and kind?
For every kind
Stranger, there is one who would break you
Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible
I don’t know. I just know
it matters. Everything matters. What is erasing
what. Who is bombing whom.
It took me all day to misunderstand correctly:
Forgetting their children, the conquerors
destroyed them.
The world is at least
Fifty percent terrible
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
it answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.
This place could be beautiful,
right?
With lines from Fady Joudah, Maggie Smith, Brian Bilston, Joseph Fasano, Langston Hughes, Warsan Shire, and Nikita Gill
Cheri — I feel this and also wonder how “the people who should care pretend the fire doesn’t exist.”
Your stanza
“where does it hurt?
it answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.” — Really packs a punch!
Thanks. The atlas lines were actually a last minute addition. I’ve just always loved those lines.
Oh wow! I loved to see “Good Bones” interspersed throughout…one of my absolute favorites! I really like how your poem ends with tentative hopefulness, even though “The world is at least fifty percent terrible.”
Thank you. I wasn’t sure how well-known the poems I used were. Nice to see someone else knows a favorite of mine.
Cheri, this is so lovely in all its darkness. Your repetition of the “world is at least/fifty percent terrible” is a reminder that no matter how much we ignore, the truth keeps showing up right in the midst of everything. But it is your atlas image and the whispering response of everywhere that hits the hardest. I want to use the word right, offset by the comma, as a question, but it can also be an address, which works so well too.
“while the people who should care
pretend the fire doesn’t exist.” – so profound and heartbreaking. And then you end with hope! Love it.
Cheri,
I often feel the feels in these lines, but I know Good Bones ends on the positive note. I love that about Maggie Smith’s poems. Like you, she works through those feelings in verse. And I have her new book to dig into tonight.
How coincidental that when I was browsing poetry books for today (April 3) to find rhymes, I found a poem to collect “Half Staff” in a book by Maggie Smith. I hadn’t even made the connection until coming back here and seeing your response about her.
Hi Jennifer,
I read your prompt this morning and got so excited. I was sneaking to write during my staff meeting.
I will be home around 5:30. Sorry for my late post. I look forward to reading and commenting. Your poem feels good in my bones.
This is a salve:
Good to see you here, Stacey! Hugs.
Jennifer,
Clever play on “i carry your heart.” I love the nature imagery in your borrowed lines. I almost took “I sing the body electric” from Leaves of Grass but wanted to stick to feminist poets.
My title is my own creation.
for women who refuse to be trad wives in the new world patriarchal order
you remind them
she’s already had everything she needs
within herself
the words are maps
we are brainwashed young, fed stories
I have been her kind
you do not have to be good
I eat men like air
it is we sinful women
we are the half-destroyed instruments
wait till they learn I’m dropping out
the world begins and ends when you say so
—Glenda Funk
April 1, 2025
Lines taken from:
“Fire” by Nikki Gill
“What is the Greatest Lesson a Woman Should Learn” Rupi Karr
“Diving into the Wreck” Adrianne Rich
“Curiosity Saved the Woman” by Danielle Coffyn
Mary Oliver “Wild Geese”
Anne Sexton “Her Kind”
Sylvia Plath “Lady Lazarus
“What They Don’t Want You to Know” by Amanda Lovelace
”We Sinful Women” by Kishwar Naheed
“Marks” by Linda Paston
Bring it on, Glenda! From the solely feminist poets to the title to the line, “I eat men like air,” I am with you (all of you). This needs to go on a sign to be carried to all of the protests. Just found and read Linda Pastan’s Marks. Phew! So glad you included that line for me to unearth.
I love the female power that speaks through this. It reminds me of another poem that I thought about using in mine titled “If Adam Picked the Apple” by Danielle Coffyn. And I now see you used one of her poem, I’ll have to look that one up.
My favorite line “we are brainwashed young, fed stories.”
Glenda,
Preach! I am right there with you! Love your line choices and your celebration of female strength.
I’m always glad to see you and read your writing here, Glenda! That title is exquisite! Your poem stoked my already summoned feminine rage. We need that fire, so I’m grateful for it. Have you read Hagitude by Sharon Blackie or The Change by Kristen Miller? They’re not poems, but they made me feel the same way your poem did, so I think you might enjoy them.
Hi, Glenda — You spent your time with feminist poets too. I slid right down that delightful rabbit-hole this afternoon. Your title gobbled me right up. “Words are maps” indeed. I think you’ve captured the power battle …”we are the half-destroyed instruments” …but “WAIT till they learn” … I like the fire under these words. We have similar collections on our shelves. I have to look up a couple you offer here…thank you! Hugs, Susie
“she’s already had everything she needs
within herself “ – Bravo! Such a strong message. You have sent me on a treasure hunt, to discover and rediscover all your poetry sources.
Glenda, my friend, you make me want to scream SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK! You nailed it. These lines resonated with me because they are speaking MY truth, but thank God for freedom.
Thank you, for sharing this powerhouse of a poem.
Omg! This poem is on fire. I adore the line “I eat men like air”. The image of being half-destroyed instruments resonates. Now I am inspired to read each poem you’ve borrowed lines from. Your voice as always sings a powerful truth! Thank you!
what a great collection of allusion. TS Eliot would be proud, amongst others!
I’m going to use your list of where you culled your lines as a reading list!
This is magnificent!
Glenda, I am impressed by the effortless flow. The poem builds up the strength from the first line and culminates with “the world begins and ends when you say so.” Here is to the women’s power! We have everything we need within us, indeed. Thank you!
This was so much fun. I have been reading and collecting lines throughout the day. Thank you for the invitation to play with our favorite lines.
Nature’s Power
Maybe this is what I unfold in the dark,
deciding, for the rest of my life –
I don’t think
I’m allowed
to kill something
because I am
frightened.
I went down to
mingle my breath
with the breath
of the cherry blossoms
And I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup,
which has given my heart
a change of mood
and saved some part
of the day I had rued
“Hope” is the thing with feathers.
Poets: Nye, Giovanni, Derricotte, Stevenson, Frost, Dickinson
This starting with “maybe” is a lovely first word that took me right into the sequence of lines. I certainly stopped with the “to kill something” and pondered, lingered a bit about what that something might be. So fun to puzzle through the mash up here.
Sarah
Heather,
I can’t stop thinking about nature’s power after reading your poem’s first verse and love the contrasting image in the second verse, especially these lines:
“I went down to
mingle my breath
with the breath
of the cherry blossoms”
Heather, the power of your poem is that you chose words that
took us along as you mingled your breath. That was a power word choice and
symbol suggesting we time in calm natural surroundings to regain our hope. With your poem, we can.
Heather,
Your first line –“Maybe this is what I unfold in the dark,” — pulled me in immediately. The first stanza was so intriguing and dark. Loved the way the darkness gives way to a “change of mood” and “Hope”.
Heather, what a wonderful collection of lines you’ve gathered. I’m especially drawn to the mingling of breaths between the narrator and the cherry blossoms. That, along with the heart melodies, makes your poem sing of hope. Lovely!
Heather, wow, that opening is FIRE! I am in awe. The imagery and tenderness are healing.
I love that the buttercups change the mood. The magic of nature.
This is a great prompt! I am already realizing, though, that I really should organize my life this month so that I am writing when I am not tired near the end of the day. Or perhaps I should write after dinner, when my tummy is happier. Anyhow, here’s my take on ee cummings on a cold, rainy day.
Can’t we just . . .?
in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious
I try to wrestle my dog away from the puddles. He finds them too tempting.
and it’s
spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful
But I’m tired of puddles. I want sunshine.
it’s
spring
And yes, I’m grateful for polar vortexes (vortices?) to be in the rear-view mirror
And I will yearn for 40 degree temperatures in July humidity
But I am tired and cold, and I seek the sun.
Sheila,
So many beautiful text features in the spacing, the font, and the white space between stanzas- so craftful. That word “puddle-wonderful” made me smile.
You will certainly notice the golden minutes for poetry writing that feel best to you, but that may come with some trials and experimenting.
Peace,
Sarah
Sheila, the spontaneity of your words nestled between cummings’ fits right in with his style. This poem is a delight! I love the puddle-wrestling of your dog. I have a puddle seeker too. And I’m also tired and cold. Bring on the spring!
Sheila,
I’m a Clevelander and your depiction of spring is spot on.
I love the way you capture spring in “when the world is mud-” and “the world is puddle-wonderful.”
Shelia,
I enjoyed seeing your new thoughts in conversation of this old favorite by ee cummings.
Hope the sun reaches you soon.
I was gonna
take a page
from Harold
Bloom’s book
(Shakespeare:
The Invention
of the Human)
and mine some
verse from
the bard
himself
to try and
excavate some
gem of truth
about humanity
(“like some ore
among a mineral
of metals base”
as it were) but
I remembered
that “we are
arrant knaves
all [and you
should] believe
none of us” for
“to be honest,
as this world goes,
is to be one man
picked out of ten
thousand” and
I’m just not
lovin’ those odds
right now,
so, let’s
pack this up,
bid ourselves
adieu (“Parting
is such sweet
sorrow” and all that)
while we “Exit [stage
left] pursued by a bear.”
(Lord, what fools
these mortals be!)
________________________________________________
Jennifer, thank you for kicking off this Verselove with such a wonderful poem and prompt! And I especially love these lines from your “Inspiration” section about “words and verses”: “They catch our attention. They resonate. They allow us to breathe. They sing in a world stuck in B flat.” Yes! (For my offering, I pulled lines from Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, The Winter’s Tale, and A Midsummer Night’s Dream.)
Scott,
I am loving all our text features as signals to the speaker’s process, the commentary in parentheses, and the direct quotes and brackets all woven together in conversation. Like you, I am “just not/ lovin’ those odds right now.”
Peace,
Sarah
Timely sentiments!
Scott, your choice to pull from the Bard gave your poem a double whammy, since April often is celebrated because Shakespeare is said to have been born this month. Your excavation yielded a valuable haul. Thanks for sharing these gems with us.
Scott, you had me at Shakespeare! I knew I was going to love this poem. There’s a reversal happening here that I find interesting–the poem begins more seriously and the deeper we get into the bard’s verse, the more humorous this becomes (not that Will isn’t humorous but I know you are and he’s often thought of as so lofty–that is, until you get to know him). Do I sound like a foolish mortal yet in the presence of two great writers?
Scott — Shakespeare is such a great choice. Love how you turned the serious tone to a light one, especially with (“Parting /is such sweet /sorrow” and all that)/ while we “Exit [stage /left] pursued by a bear.”
Thought you might appreciate this:
I was literally reading your poem when my daughter came in and asked if she could practice her Hamlet scene for he AP Lit class with me. She has decided to give the grave-digger as southern accent.
Jennifer, thanks for a great start to VerseLove 2025! I loved your poem — that second stanza was quite a turn and the first line of that stanza was just arresting!
My oldest daughter just graduated with a degree in English, and I chose to plunder her chapbook (her final project) for my poem!
cheeks still lightly dusted with blush
that had yet to fade
something about her gentle, unyielding embrace,
shining smile that felt like coming home.
he wanted to feel her delicate fingers brush
against his own;
hands wrinkled and worn from time,
hands that had time
and time again taken on the deceptive role of
a gentle lover.
She made him feel so young,
like love was new again; rather,
it was like he was relearning
how to love through her.
he preferred to revel in his fictitious,
glorified idea of love
rather than actively participate in it.
His selfishness flared, a smoldering flame
disrupting the comforting warmth of her sleep.
sensuality of morning’s glow
Of course, I trust you.
(was it really just herself she was trying to save?)
With a kiss to her forehead
A pretty metal chain to her ankle:
Usually, he found it easy to contain his hunger.
their intensity nearly as frightening as their sudden appearance
and yet, she couldn’t ignore the excited pounding of her heart.
My beloved, departed, old fling, ex, despised, dirty cheater, son of a–
His blood had pooled the perfect shade of Hibiscus.
Excerpted from:
“Yunnan Gold”
“Untitled
“Bloodlust”
“Dilemma”
by Allie Everard
P.S. The 2nd last line should contain a series of strikethroughs, but they didn’t show up.
Wow, Wendy, your poem is gorgeous which reveals how amazing your daughter’s poetry is. What a wonderful experience you must have had pulling lines from her chapbook. I love the focus on love and the underlying violence. The contrasts between the soft and the controlling behavior is striking. The blood pooling at the end is riveting!
Wendy,
I had so many emotions reading this poem. These lines made my heart ache: “it was like he was relearning/how to love through her.” And then I was not so sure what to feel with this “he preferred to revel in his fictitious/glorified idea of love” but those closing lines really showed the commentary on love that the speaker was making. Whoa to the “blood had pooled.”
Sarah
Wendy, I love that you borrowed lines from your daughter (and incredible lines too!), and I love that you up-leveled the prompt. This felt like a series, where what you thought was going to happen took a completely different direction. It’s that pretty metal chain that did it for me and confirmed what I hoped wasn’t the case.
Jennifer, where this poem went was just as a much of a surprise to me as it was to you! It kind of took itself there. XD
In Concert
Standing for what seems like hours
Feet screaming
Then numb
Back twisting
Shoulders throbbing
Head in a vise
Knees bent so none faint
Weight shifting
But not obviously
Neck shouting as music is held
Up and out to see both conductor and notes
Over and over,
Why?
Voices creating power in nuanced moments
Orchestra reverberating
Then silent
Music spinning
Hearts lifting
United in spirit
Lifting souls so none faint
Perspectives shifting
Sometimes, obviously
Timbre rising as audience is held
Through and beyond in peace and strength
Over and over.
Why.
blob:https://www.facebook.com/8127cab0-a243-4d15-89a3-2dddeda351bc
Last night.
Kelley, I am held by both your title as I think about how it can have multiple meanings and the punctuation following the word Why – showcasing the questioning and then the explanation (the this is the why). Your sensory details make this so interesting too–I felt as if I were watching the performance!
Thank you. We had an amazing pair of concerts this weekend, and yes, I hurt all over, but it was worth it.
Kelley,
The pacing of this poem is so swift in capturing the length of time in contrast with the anticipation maybe frustration in the creating, spinning, lifting, rising “over and over./Why.” I noted that the why did not have a question mark. Yes, it seems the speaker here knows or that it is a rhetorical question indeed.
Love it,
Sarah
Thank you. It helped me to remember why it’s worth it.
I was drawn to these two powerful lines: “knees bent so none faint” and “lifting souls so none faint”. That is the power of music! And yay to the musicians who sacrifice to deliver it. Thanks for taking us along to this concert
Happy April! So good to be here with y’all. Thank you for this wonderful prompt, Jennifer.
a good cry
they grabbed him
like he wasn’t somebody’s child
palmed the back of his head
face against the front of the police car
meanwhile the world goes on
wrapped in rags on the street
detained in a cage at a border
trapped in other stories of living
i am the hurting kind and
monsters do exist
i don’t need an overseas enemy:
you keep my eyelids from closing
help us see
the wreck
we are creating
[Lines respectfully borrowed from poems by Nikki Giovanni (including the poem’s title), Joy Harjo, Mohammed El-Kurd, Ada Limon, Mary Oliver, Pádraig Ó Tuama, Clint Smith, and one biblical psalm.]
Maureen! Girl, do I feel this! Most especially these words: “I don’t need an overseas enemy/you keep my eyelids from closing.” Such truth, sadly. I’ve just finished reading about another man grabbed and sent to the prison in El Salvador because of an error and there’s nothing they can do. How can that be? I don’t want to watch this train wreck anymore. Powerful poem today!
This is so powerful! What a great blend of words… Sadly, it leaves me angry, wishing we didn’t have to bear witness to such a mess.
Oh, Maureen, preach it, sister. Like an Old Testament prophet. I’m in awe of the weaving and message you’ve created here.
Ooof, Maureen. Your opening imagery is jaw dropping and heart breaking. I feel the horror of a world gone mad.I agree monsters do exist! Incredibly moving poem!
Amen, Maureen, to this:
“help us see
the wreck
we are creating”
And help us do something about it. So much pain, truth, and power in your poem. Thank you!
Wow! This is powerful. I especially like the line “i am the hurting kind and monsters do exist,” which hits differently now.
Maureen,
I love your poem, the social justice themes, the reimagine of some of my favorite lines, particularly the Mary Oliver one. I think I’ll be circling back to today to catalogue some poets new to me.
Maureen — I hear ya loud and clear. The horrors…”wrapped in rags…” and a cage at the border…” Damn! “Help us see” indeed. Thank heavens for your poem. Susie
Love, love, love. Perhaps because it is as dark as the one I created, it resonated with me. It’s what I’m feeling so often. So many poignant lines in this: “monsters do exist,” “you keep my eyelids from closing.” Beautifully crafted.
Maureen! I enjoyed your poem, thank you thank you! I wanted to highlight you last stanza: awareness. In my poem I wrote you need action to lead to change and honestly before that we need awareness. Awareness, understanding, and being informed. It’s such a heartbreak to see the split and divide among society when we should all be unanimous for what’s right. There needs to be a higher emphasis on educating oneself and others, even further it’s a bit sad how this emphasis keeps growing to what feels like on a weekly basis.
[Ada Limon discussed ways to be quiet, in “The Quiet Machine,” and the idea sent me to ponder creating machines that I would bring me some satisfaction. Susie]
Machines
If I could create a machine
that would make quiet,
I’d invent the Grace Machine,
so I’d know to pace my noise,
to shut up,
and let the moment find itself
suffused in poise.
I’d invent the Last Word Machine,
shoulda said…
and mute the good-ol-boys.
I’d invent the Pivotal Right Question Machine
that would change a set mind,
hush the proud white boys.
I’d invent the Belly Laugh Machine
that’d make you snort,
and I’d turn upside down
that guy who knows not
how to smile
through each mean retort.
Most loved of all
would be the Quiet Machine,
that turns air and water
into pure pulses of calm.
The nightmares would stop,
sleep,
a psalm.
by Susie Morice, April 1, 2025©
I am fascinated by each of these inventions, Susie. If only there were a machine to “change a set mind” – we are hardened more and more every day, it seems. Poetry brings me hope!
Susie, the ending of this is so soothing–the words mimic the shutting down of the world, of the drifting off into sleep and the word psalm, sitting so nicely at the end, is like a whisper. I know too many students who are in the throes of anxiety and the Quiet Machine would most definitely help so get that thing patented!
I want a quiet machine of my own! I love how the different machines are playful and yet serious at the same time.
Susie, your poem knocked me off my feet from the opening line. Imagining a machine that creates quiet is genius and called Grace is even more spectacular. I loved what was silenced in your poem and the other clever names of Machines like the last word one. Your poem adds humor and fire to support a much needed change in our world. Your end is soft and inviting, revealing why a quiet machine is a must.
Susie, that creative imagination of yours wins again! I do want the set mind machine here, right here and handy for daily use with so much rigidity everywhere, it seems. You blend humor and hope and make me smile.
Pure pulses of calm – thanks for bringing that quiet machine alive!
Susie, what an inventive soul you are! I absolutely love all your creations, and especially that Quiet Machine. I need it every single evening–just let me be. Thank you for this gift today!
Susie,
You may not be able to create these machines, but you are the best poetry generating human, and I’m so grateful to you for creating a poem today that speaks to how I often think, especially when I’d like to remove those far right to guess!
Susie,
love all of these inventions, but especially
Thanks for your poem and for the spark to wonder about what machines I would to create and why. I might need to circle back to this and write my own poem.
Jennifer, thank you for opening our month by inviting us to delve into poetry. I adore the sensory appeal within your poem, and Cummings lines at the end is perfectly delivered. Poetry is like that different universe where I want to dwell.
Dark Desires
I thought about
burning them
how it feels
when that spirit thing
won’t stop
walking off as the light collapses
blood-spots in the grass
hot-pink poppies fret in the ditch, my arms
in the rupture of air
above a river I say things
that no one hears.
it is summer forever in my heart and I am thirsty
I want to sing
a piercing note
lazily throwing my legs
across the moon
my mind is old
and quiet
and full of words
that will only mean something
later
and who do you belong to?
it’s not the question
that bothers me
like a chicken bone,
we hold in our throats
I imagine the insides of myself sometimes—
part female, part male, part terrible dragon
I used to pretend a lot. I am very good at it.
women learn
to build bridges
east to west
becoming teachers
in the service of peace
if you’re like me,
you’ve struggled trying
to stomp out
the flame of doubt
and fear
the dark desires screaming inside
Poets: Jason Reynolds, For Everyone; Rebecca Wee, “Nebraska”; Joshua Jennifer Espinoza, “Flowers #3); Nikki Giovanni, “I Want to Sing”; Merrit Malloy, “The War”; Debra Marquart, “And Who Do You Belong To?”; Ada Limon, “Accident Report in the Tall Tall Weeds”; Sarah J. Donovon, Alone Together; and Jason Reynolds, For Everyone. (Final line is mine).
By Barb Edler
1 April 2025
Barb — You pulled together feelings that truly resonated with me this afternoon. The sense of struggle and discord in words like “stomp out” and “doubt…fear” and the “screaming inside.” It is so true that “women…build bridges.” I have had a boatload of “dark desires” of late. Whoof. You poet list is wonderful. I zeroed in on Ada Limon mostly, but found myself reading most of the afternoon from Maya Angelo’s Ain’t I a Woman collection of terrific female poets. Thank you for this piece! Susie
Whoa, Barb! This is one amazing poem. I am mesmerized by the lines you’ve chosen and the dark thread you’ve woven to hold them together. Every stanza is just as good as the next! I keep returning to reread–know that the words take hold of me right from the first line and continue on down to your final verse. This is a beauty!
You have created this amazing reflective piece with these poets’ words…I felt a chill with the words
“above a river I say things
that no one hears.”
Your last line is phenomenal.
Barb, I’m almost at a loss for words – this is AMAZING. Of course, all of those poets are amazing; their powerful verses sing, scream, rejoice, and bleed…but to select these given lines and weave them in this way is pure brilliance. THIS is poetry!!
Barb,
As I read this, I started collecting lines that were so good that I wanted to compliment your for using them — but there were way too many. This had such fantastic flow to it and was so powerful. Loved it!
Hi, Barb, I am drawn to each stanza of your poem and want to comment on each line–every phrase is rich and meaningful. These lines resonate with me the most today:
“women learn
to build bridges
east to west
becoming teachers
in the service of peace”
Thank you for uplifting these poets and their poetry!
Barb, this resonates on SO many levels. I’m mesmerized by this favorite verse:
I want to sing
a piercing note
lazily throwing my legs
across the moon
There is something that hangs on here with such unexpected sound and stance – – all of your poem is so moving, but this is where I hear the sound and see the image so vividly. And of course the feeling on the inside, yes. That thing that takes hold and takes over. Wow.
Barb,
This is so stunning that I forgot it’s a cento poem. I am in awe of the expertise you show in how you organized the poem. Some favorite images: field of poppies, leg draped over the moon, the chicken bone in the throat. I love the dream-like quality of the poem. It’s perfect.
It has been a day! Thank you all for POETRY!!!
(A found poem with the help of Edna St. Vincent Millay,
Robert Louis Stevenson, Ranier MariaRilke, James Hearst, Carl Sandburg)
April Returns
To what purpose, April,
do you return again?
Your chill wings blows,
Your piercing rain pours,
Dousing the spikes of the crocus.
Who are these people?
Crows puff their black feathers
on still bare branches to stay warm.
Then all is still.
soft sound of rain slowly dies
after the long afternoon,
shafts of golden light appear.
Feel the hint of seed
in the furrowed earth.
Do you hear the song of spring?
tips of tulips promising flowers,
blackbird whistling sweet and clear,
sounding the song of spring.
In each bright bud,
a slumbering silence lies.
Joanne, your opening lines are compelling and perfect for today’s current weather. I like the way you interspersed questions throughout your poem, and the “slumbering silence lies.” There’s a hope of something ready to burst through the ground. Powerful cento!
Joanne, this capturing of spring, through so many poets and your placement of lines, is beautiful through its colors (black feathers, golden light) and textures (piercing rain and furrowed earth). I can hear the song of spring! And those last two lines are so, so good!
Love this ode to April, this “ song of spring”.
Joanne, this was absolutely lovely and full of hope. Made my evening to read it.
Those opening two lines, followed by the chill wind and piercing rain– how did you know I was experiencing the exact same weather today? I love the hope near the end with the “tips of tulips promising flowers.”
Gorgeous. Joanne – all the brimming promise of spring, deftly woven together. Those questions – and all the lines, really – are superbly placed.
There are so many sights and sounds of this poem, and I think that I have experienced all of them this week.
Thanks for this awesome prompt to get us going this April, Jennifer! I”m so excited to be writing alongside everyone! I’ve borrowed from rupi kaur, Louise Glück, and Jacqueline Woodson.
Our long, long story
this is the recipe of life
those before you are
a part of your fabric
out of the ground
howled so loud
the dirt began to levitate
what is my heart to you?
the shadowy heart
of my mother’s heart
I’m looking for courage
for some evidence that
my life will change
we know
our days
are counted
here
we do
what we know
is
right
and they’ll begin
to tell our
long
long
story
Chea-this is beautiful! A story of heritage, of passing things down–and starting again at the end.
Chea, your poem is compelling, and I love the question “what is my heart to you?” Your poem’s structure works well with the title, showing it is a long, long story and there is a long connection between the mother and the life she has brought forward. I feel the poem shares a women’s courage and will to create change.
Chea, there’s something so beautiful in the words “the shadowy heart of my mother’s heart.” It shows our interconnectedness as well as how those who came before us throw shadows upon who we are today. Gosh, I know that doing what we know is right is vital but it seems as if so many have lost all integrity. A powerful reminder.
I love the pattern of this poem. Obviously, the words work beautifully to say what you need to, but I love how you interlace single word lines as the story gets longer, almost like it’s narrowing as it fades over the horizon.
Chea, I loved thinking about the connections and shifts between the stanzas — the spaces between your stanzas spoke as loudly as your words did here. This was gorgeous!
I’m not sure what your process was, but you sure took likes and mashed them together to work seamlessly! I appreciate the unifying theme of our lineage. Love these lines:
You chose three amazing poets to mine for inspiration. I wish I’d thought to use Louise Glück. The image of levitating ground is profound and kind of biblical. O love that your poem feels as though it’s in conversation with mine. I see it so well in your final verse.
but my poor heart alone is harmed, (Krishboodhram)
and I watered it in fears, (Leilya)
waiting for another to embrace
emptying the harm that kept me along,
but I saw a stain there lingering,
resisting the cleanse, and these were
ones worth keeping, (Emily)
harms to hold dear, wounds that talk
of a life lived alone but not lonely
and I meet myself a little more (Susan)
in every beat
I meet myself a little more in every beat–beautiful. It is good to see our poet-friends in your poem!
Sarah, I agree it is great to see Leilya, Susan, and Emily all be a part of your poem. Be sure to notice who is in my poem:) I love the focus on watering, the poor heart, and the stain. Your poem flows beautifully, and I can hear that poor heart beating. Gorgeous and powerful poem!
Sarah, I love that you embraced the words written here today. It’s a lovely way to honor the work of so many friends. I’m brought back (again and again) to the emptying of the harm and the lingering stain and all that might represent and find solace in the holding dear and resisting while recognizing that living alone doesn’t have to be lonely. I think more people would be happy if they heeded those words.
Sarah — What a great mashup! “…wounds that talk…” Ooof…yes! I feel the sense of growth in “I meet myself a little more.” A cool way to start our April community! You and Jennifer have the right idea today! Thank you, Susie
Sarah, this brought tears to my eyes this evening. Love the “stains…worth keeping,” the “harms to hold dear” and the acknowledgement that the seeming bad can also build and heal. Timely message.
Sarah, these final two lines are so relatable. They remind me about how connected we are through this community. Beautiful!
I love this prompt, but I’m working as an election judge today and don’t have time to look at poems. Instead I wrote my poem using snippets of conversation I’ve heard today. I’ll let the poem speak for itself.
The polling place is open!
This is why you need your glasses
I brought donuts for everyone
Take the poll book outside to help it sync
Of course I want my ballot in English- this is America!
I don’t want the sticker- Cook County needs the money
My choice is English-it’s America
Male
I’m here!
Do they have the ballot in Ebonics?
Thanks, hon!
A slice of life, indeed! Thanks, Mo!
Yes, that’s it! I’ve done that service before. Love those snips of conversation. “Do they have the ballot in Ebonics?” made me laugh.
Mo, what a mix of conversation snippets! I have to wonder about the person who just said “male” though. Was it like that’s all that needed to be said or was it in response to a question or maybe he was proclaiming his authority?!? Thanks for helping out with the election AND writing while you were serving your country!
Mo, I am so glad you chose to write and share this poem today even though you couldn’t look at poems today. The snippets are lively, and I felt completely pulled into your polling place.
Oh geez, Mo — You are such a good woman. I admire the slice of americana that you capture here. Thank you for working at the polls today! Hugs, Susie
I can hear it and feel it. I’ve walked in downtown Chicago and it really is a slice of life there. Well done.
Wow to some of those comments.
Loved your idea to do this!
Mo, I just loved your use of the line, “I brought donuts for everyone” because it represented to me so clearly the “office / civil servant / (somehow forced but also well-meaning) rah rah” vibe. It had me smiling!
Mo,
I feeel like I’m waiting on line at the polling location! This really is a piece of Americana. These lines are gems.
Thank you for this amazing prompt. Borrowing lines from poems to craft my own felt like a journey across time and so many different places. Your poem is so powerful that I felt compelled to try something myself.
Lines have been borrowed from: Aphra Behn, Sujata Bhatt, William Blake, Elizabeth Brewster, Boey kim Cheng, Gillian Clarke, David Halligan, Seamus Heaney, Liz Lockhead, Charles Mungoshi, Katherine Phillips, Alexander Pope, Carol Rumens, William Shakespeare, Judith Wright. This is from an anthology I am currently teaching to my Grade 10 students:
Growing up
Intense blue morning
As thin grey light washed over flat fields
The veil of iridescence on the sand
Sun warmed in this late season’s grace
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May
Their assorted heights would make a melodious chime
And smiled among the winter’s snow
It’s always happy as it’s innocent
You should be here, Nature has need of you
People are made of places
Placed on the isthmus of a middle state
I wanted to grow up
But my poor heart alone is harmed,
Except I thought I recognised myself.
You must learn to turn the pages gently.
I am so glad you were compelled to write today. Your poem unfolds like a season changing or a blossom opening (or a book’s pages turning!). The sense of place in your piece strikes me – the need to be here and being made of places. Our journey defines us, for certain. I need to practice that gentle page turning!
Kris (I hope that is right),
I love the variety of lines you chose and a poet for each one it seems. Each stanza seems to flow together so well.
I love the way this poem is structure, and especially the line “You should be here, Nature has need of you”. The final line is particularly provocative. Thanks for sharing this delightful poem with us today.
Hi Krish! I love that you used lines from the anthology you are using with Form 4. I hope they are appreciating the poetry. I like the focus of growing up and learning. I love the way the last two lines are put together. They sound beautiful. Also, “intense blue morning” because
thanks for writing!!!
Thank you, Jennifer, for your prompt on this first day of #VerseLove! I loved your poem, so wise and well crafted. I decided to combine the lines from poems about poetry and poets, so this is a new “Ars Poetica” kind of a poem. I borrowed lines from W. Whitman, L. Binyon, W. Blake, W. Wordsworth, J. Donne, R. Frost, A. Seeger, T.S. Elliot, L. Hughes, W. Shakespeare, P. S. Wagner, R. W. Emerson, M. Oberman, G. Oppen, P. Sidney, A. MacLeish, and T. Hughes.
So Long Lives Poetry
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
in verse my love to show,
The poet is the sayer, the namer,
Hoping to cease not till death.
A poem should be palpable and mute,
Poetry demands surrender,
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem.
Do not assume meanings hidden from you:
Treat a poem like dirt,
Something else is alive
The best poems mean what they say and say it.
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
Beside the clock’s loneliness.
The little hole in the eye
And will not close.
Someday a book of poems may open in your hands
In the mountains, there you feel free.
And lead me into his dark land,
And close my eyes and quench my breath—
I wandered lonely as a cloud
And I watered it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
Because I am involved in mankind.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
We will remember them…
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
So hard to take lines and string them together in meaning. Yours is perfect! It is poetic and celebrates what we are doing “:Hoping to cease not till death.”
This is a powerful poem that reminds us one’s life’s journey and poetry can be so woven together that the two become one.
Leilya, it’s been fascinating to find favorites among other writers today, and I see so many well-loved lines throughout your poem. I love this idea of the poet as a sayer and namer. But I am most drawn to the watering in fears and how much isolation there is in that stanza, despite (or maybe because of) involvement with mankind. Powerful stuff here!
Leilya, what a great ars poetica poem you created from all these giants. I did this during your poem, “And close my eyes and quench my breath—”
Leilya–wow! This is a seamless stitching together of so many wonderful words!
Brilliant poem, Leilya! I love the focus on poetry and how your poem celebrates it. I adore the line “And close my eyes and quench my breath-“. Then the closing line “and this gives life to thee.” Yes, I feel that strong desire for poetry to carry me like a live palpable thing I must surrender to.
Leilya — Gosh, some of these familiar lines actually caught in my throat, so dear are the words. I really love that you started the month with this poem. So fitting! Susie
Bravo, Leilya! So many well-chosen lines so artfully connected! You’ve crafted such a wonderful celebration of poetry for us today!
I love all of the pieces of poetry you wove together to create this poem. So many of my favorite lines.
What a great post to kick off poetry month! I actually had to stop because there are so many poets crowding my mind…this was like a walk through my life in poetry..and I’ll now have to add, there’s a hell of a good universe next door!
In The Poetry Stacks
Because I do not go gentle into that good night,
still I remember
the barefoot boy with cheek of tan,
the toy dog covered with dust,
and the shadow that goes in and out with me.
still I remember discovering
the daffodils and bright blue squills
(and what are patterns for?)
I remember
the sun and clear pebbles of the rain,
the wild geese high in the clean blue air.
I remember (may I always remember)
the flush of love’s light
even as ignorant armies clash by night.
I remember and again discover
a thunderbolt of beauty,
the poet’s anthem,
a fleeting word, a glimpse, a promise,
a song of praise,
buried inside each burst of rage.
(Dylan Thomas, Eugene Fields, John Greenleaf Whittier, Robert Louis Stevenson, Amy Lowell, Mary Oliver, Maya Angelou, Matthew Arnold)
Hi Ann, I love the lyrical beauty of your poem. It feels sincere and deeply personal. I like the message of hope that despite life’s unsavoury realities, love and gratitude can have such great restorative powers.
Ann, your “walk through my life in poetry” is so beautiful. I think the poem you crafted tells your story. The ending will stay with me as the Poet’s anthem” now:
“a fleeting word, a glimpse, a promise,
a song of praise,
buried inside each burst of rage.”
Thank you so much for crafting today!
Ann, this reminds me of how the simplest of memories, the early memories, those core memories, remain with us–the barefoot boy, the toy dog, the discovering–and how they are buried deep within us, so deeply that they fight to the end, “buried inside each burst of rage.” I think of the suffering that accompanies memory loss, and life flashing before your eyes, and all of the struggles that accompany loss. Like a poem, so much depth in what is seemingly simple. Beautifully written!
Oh, wow, Ann, this is gorgeous. I especially appreciated the repetition of the remembering lines. It’s so peaceful and poetic. “(may I always remember)” Yes!
Ann-beautiful. For some reason, my favorite image is the toy dog covered with dust. (Your poem has such spirit in it!)
Ann, I love how you worked with this prompt. Always a tremendous fan (and I’m always thinking about the trees). Love everything you do, are, contribute, and share with the universe. These lines were my favorite:
I remember and again discover
a thunderbolt of beauty,
the poet’s anthem,
a fleeting word, a glimpse, a promise,
Jennifer,
This is such a wonderful challenge for us today! I love that I now have a Doc where I have started a list of lines of poetry that I love! After culling a bunch of lines, I saw a theme . . . life and death. So, I went and targeted my search a little more.
Living and Dying
(with a nod to Margaret Atwood, Mary Oliver, WB Yeats, Yrsa Daley-Ward, Riverside, Pablo Neruda, James Wright, Theodore Roethke, Charles Bukowski,
Mary Elizabeth Frye, Dylan Thomas, and Robert Herrick)
Living
I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment
There is nothing more pathetic than caution
when headlong might save a life,
even, possibly, your own.
Every time I travel
I meet myself a little more.
Against all those wasted years
we roll the boulders of sins up a hill of new days
Love is so short, forgetting so long
Suddenly I realize
that if I stepped out of my body I would break
into blossom.
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
I learn by going where I have to go
Dying
The most terrible thing about life is finding it gone
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep
And Death shall have no Dominion
over my soul
I consider eternity as another possibility
Behold I go,
where I do know
Infinity to dwell
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world
~Susan Ahlbrand
1 April 2025
Susan, you’ve separated the living and the dying and yet I feel and hear them both in each of the stanzas. And there is such depth within the arrangement of lines you’ve gathered. I want to think about leaving my body only to break into blossom–what a beautiful way to think of going. And these lines–Every time I travel/I meet myself a little more–so, so good in the lead in to your message. I love everything about this.
Susan–wow. Just wow.
Susan, so interesting the way you have separated the living and dying. I, like Jennifer, feel I am finding elements of both in each stanza and that is like a full circle back to the title for me. “I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world” either, which is an invitation to live that I’m taking from your beauty today.
Susan, the opening line for “Living” drew me right into your poem: “I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment.” There is so much love and care in it. In your “Dying” one, I find so many familiar lines. It seems just recently I read somewhere “Do not stand at my grave and weep,” and it reminds me of my husband who always says: “If you don’t come to visit me when I am alive, please, don’t come to my grave to cry.”
I like the way you crafted two poems. The lines are running into each other effortlessly. the final line resonates with me as well: “I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.” Thank you so much for sharing!
Susan — I particularly loved the ending lines…may this not have been just a darned visitation. I loved your collection of poets. I felt the “boulder of sins”…alas…too true. Thank you, Susie
Jennifer,
Over the few years I’ve been reading and writing poetry in this space, I sure have admired the way you put words and lines together. I feel like my veins are full of sand. That is such a powerful image. Are those your words or one of the poets you mentioned? Thank you for this prompt.
On Remembering
I think I will always be lonely
in this world, where the cattle
graze like a black and white river–
where the vanishing lilies
melt, without protest, on their tongues–
where the hummingbird, whenever there is a fuss,
just rises and floats away.
Though I know that evening’s empire
has returned into sand
Left me blindly here to stand,
but still not sleeping
Before the sun-slipped eve’s been swallowed
And before I’ve erased the ones worth keeping,
When memory is full
Put on the perfect lid.
Carry them through the wildflowers
That spring up
Despite my lack of planting.
I loved them: my own bright dead things.
(In order – Mary Oliver, Bob Dylan, me, Emily Dickinson, me, Ada Límon)
Emily, thank you! Those words belong to Erica Sanchez (I Am Not Your Perfect American Daughter–a book loaned to me by a student). Good stuff from writers everywhere–including you! I love the movement in your words, the river and melting lilies, the rising and floating and sun-slipping. My memory feels like that, more often than I want to admit. I want to keep that lid on, hold the imagery. You’ve done beautiful work here!
Wow, Emily, this is beautiful. I like that you put some of your own lines in. I like the rhyming of sleeping and keeping and the lines:
This reminds me of Cummings I carry your heart with me(I carry it in my heart) too. Very nicely put together. Your last line… “My own bright dead things” Wow! Powerful image.
These lines: Before the sun-slipped eve’s been swallowed
And before I’ve erased the ones worth keeping,
I love them so much! The alliteration calms me, and I love the idea of the sun being gently swallowed.
Emily, what a poem. Love the memories thread and will keep these lines with me:
When memory is full
Put on the perfect lid.
Thank you for sharing!
Rules. Idiot, no good, lines in the sand.
Define me in a box.
Tell me what is right white wrong strong fierce
Polish it shiny and leave it clouded
Fancy me up for slaughter, tone me to fight,
then leave me to emaciate in a corner,
solo save for a mirror and
just enough water
to fight myself
You won’t have to chain me, the rules did that
and the mirror enforced them, brutally.
Mike, phew! This packs a big punch, especially those last two lines. I imagine how we beat ourselves up, how we see ourselves through others’ eyes, how we willingly draw the lines of the box, only to realize too late that they are there. The juxtaposition of the polishing and the fancying against the clouded and emaciated is powerful.
Mike, your poem is full of striking actions and a strong voice. I feel the brutal fight, the fierce conversations, and the will to fight until the bitter end. Provocative poem!
Wow, Mike, I’m thinking a lot about this. I like the anger here and the fighting back against “define me in a box”
Hey Mike! Happy to read this! You really capture the feeling of being boxed in and trapped. The language here, and the images, are a gut punch. This is good.
Shallowed
Shallow I lay in stone,
Resting in moss, all alone,
Crickets and frogs serenade my bones,
Off the bridge, I was thrown.
I embrace my demise,
Staring up at crystal skies,
Unveiling a demonic disguise,
Currents of my current surprise.
For I failed to gain the loot,
Only minnow money in my boot,
By a turtle with sixteen scutes,
Snapping water lilies that’s sprouting chutes.
Water passes by,
Camouflaging my cries,
No one will find my good-byes,
A Blue Crane tucks his bill and sighs.
Slowly, shallow, slow,
Lonely, Hallowed and low.
My soul will surely flow,
Away, away it must go.
The money I stole,
Betrayed by the friends I told,
Final day, I am old,
Traded breath for gold.
my soul for gold,
whelped evil folds,
sold my soul,
drowned untold
stories of a demon’s mold.
What a story and depiction of dying! Love the image of lying in the wet moss and being surrounded by crickets and turtles. Very visual and poetic.
Clayton, there is a rhythm to not only your words but their placement on the page, an ebbing and flowing, a rising and falling, that is both soothing and thought-provoking. I like what you’ve done with the language (Shallowed as a title, the dual use of currents, and the use of slow and slowly). Their unusualness lingers after the read is done, in such a nice way.
Boxer–your originality shines through yet again! What a story you provided to us today, in words that stay with you!
Yes, Boxer has returned. I love: Here’s to you and the next 30 days!
Water passes by,
Camouflaging my cries,
No one will find my good-byes,
I learned about a new poem form today…this was really fun! Thanks, Jennifer!
Wayfinder
Poems are maps
to the place
where you already are,
their joyful noise
clanging to drown out
quiet desperation.
There are no wrong turnings.
Only paths we had not known
we were meant to walk.
A beacon burns through the grey–
I sail towards it,
waiting with hands widely cupped
under the waterfall of mercy.
That story you writin’
just might save the world.
That poem you throwin’ down,
could end wars.
(Lines borrowed from Hirschfield, Kingsolver, Kay, Turner, Rohr, Lincoln)
Wow this is profound. Please tell me where this is from. Sounds familiar but I can’t think: “That story you writin’
just might save the world.
That poem you throwin’ down,
could end wars.”
thanks!!
Thanks! That line is by Christine Lincoln, a poet and short-story writer. I’ll be completely honest, I borrowed the quote from a friend, so I’m not sure what specific work it is from.
Poems are maps to the place where you already are…this was a great opening. It sort of gave me permission to admit that in many of today’s poem’s I didn’t recognize what lines were borrowed and what were original — I think that may be part of the beauty of today’s prompt and today’s poems. Sometimes we take a gulp and sometimes just a sip is enough to refresh us. I love those last four lines ~ were that if could be true!
Julie, what a beautiful way to invite us into your poem. I want to sit with those three opening lines and ponder their depths. And their truths. Oh, how I want those last four lines to be true (I couldn’t think of another Lincoln besides Abe – ha! Glad you added Christine to Angie’s question). You have made me appreciate the paths I was meant to walk so much more. Well done!
This is my first time participating. This is just a quick thought that came to my mind this morning.
April Fools
Light peeks through my curtains and dances on the floor
I open my window to a slap of cold air and snow
April’s cruel joke
The perfect poem as I arrive to my office bundled in my winter coat, having just spied the shock of yellow of new forsythia.
Melissa, what a perfect description of this in-between time, this mixing of the seasons. Even the word choices move between softening (light peeking) and abrupt (slap of air). April has a sense of humor, indeed!
Welcome, Melissa! Thanks for participating today. You and Eliot are right, “April is the cruellest month”!
Melissa this made me chuckle out loud. Thank you. As we grow I feel traditions aren’t being celebrated as they were before which does come with time but getting those sweet little reminders here and there always sparks a little jump of joy in my heart. April is a bit of a silly goose, but its definitely a reminder that we need to keep pushing through. Thank you
in the end
we sold them to wither-
a bag full of God
and now it seems to me darker
than the colorless beards
of old men
a flamy purification
the votive candles shining like lust
Let be- be finale
of seem and
a stake in your
big fat black heart
Lines from the following:
Ted Hughes “Daffodils” from Birthday Letters
“The Emperor of Ice Cream” by Wallace Stevens
“Daddy” by Sylvia Plath
“Leaves of Grass” by Walt Whitman
“Latin Women Pray” by Judith Ortiz
A stake in your big fat black heart is so vivid! Those lines with the image of candles shining like lust. There is a dark sadness that I relate too- very powerful. When I first read it, I read a bag full of Gold (not God) which made the next line (seems to me darker) different. And I like that I read it both ways.
I love that you’ve put poets from Whitman to Ortiz Cofer in conversation with each other—and am, of course, thinking of how powerful and productive it could be to have students put poets under study in direct conversation this way, just for fun or as steps in analysis and synthesis… I love the contrast and connection of “flame purification” and “candles shining like lust.”
Kasey, I, too, read that first stanza with Gold in place of God, my mind automatically filling in the expected word, and the realization that it’s not caused me to focus there, changing how I read and thought about everything differently thereafter, in such a deeper and more symbolic way. What a timely poem.
I decided to pull from the poems we studied recently in my senior English class — weaving together my favorite lines from those poems. I was pretty pleased with the result. What a lovely way to kick off poetry month!
In Love with the Poetry of English 12 by Erica J
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
because I don’t know any other way to love —
the depth, and breadth, and height:
love’s like the wind unseen, unknown.
I am waiting for all this to give way
to love itself.
Between the light — and me —
for an interval let myself linger and
They’ll see how beautiful I am.
(from Pablo Neruda, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Neil Gaiman, January Gill O’Neil, Emily Dickinson, Henry Scott Holland, Tess Taylor, and Langston Hughes).
I love how you pulled from the texts your students have been reading; it is such a neat idea. I am fascinated on how so many of these poems today speak to the idea and depths of self-love and self-reflection. It makes sense to see that reflected back over and over again in such lovely ways. The ending is perfect and mirrors the first line’s “obscurity.” What is more rare than lingering and self-acceptance? Thank you for sharing.
Love’s like the wind unseen, unknown! I love how in the next stanza you put that feeling this way is sometimes a waiting. And then the last line about letting yourself linger to see how beautiful is powerful. That is the love we are waiting for- to love ourselves first! I love that.
Erica, the focus on love here, entwined with lines from so many writers, is lovely. The “I” in the poem has many possibilities, though I like to imagine it might be love speaking. I can’t decide which stanza is speaking most to me (I keep returning to the first) as they all draw me in for another read.
I woke up to see my blossoms all covered in snow this morning – yay for April! I liked Jennifer’s nod to E.E. Cummings & decided to go with his lines (though I added a few of my own words in italics).
celebrating april
the earth and the sky are one today
(they meet with snow)
the stars walk backward
nevermind a world
with its villains or heroes
Time’s a strange fellow
more he gives than takes;
(and he takes all)
(but he gave me these blossoms)
april’s day transcends november’s year
(it will, soon). So
dance your death
away at this wedding
– i’ll sing
Thanks to you and Jennifer for reminding me how much I love cummings—and that I could be weilding parentheses! I love how parentheses can double-voice a poem—and here, with your two parentheses in a row and then italics, triple-voice it. I love “but he gave me these blossoms.”
Rachel, your poem can be read in so many ways (much like cummings): as written, without your added words, and with only your added words, and it’s beautiful every way. I like to imagine what the earth and sky as one looks and feels like; even though we’ve experienced this a lot the last week.–we have sun here for the first time in a while and so the line is distinct. Your addition of “they meet with snow” makes the the combination so easy to envision. I love what you’ve done here.
Rachel,
I’ll just say that I was thinking exactly what Kate commented about the use of parenthesis here. The voicings in parenthesis really make the poem sing (to borrow your last line). I especially felt the line “but he gave me these blossoms”.
Thanks for this accessible—and fun!—first step into a month of poetry.
The Wakefulness of Living Things
And now, in my middle age,
I would like to protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream,
because life no longer stretches before me
like the darkened halls of nightmare,
because yesterday morning a pair of red foxes
looked at us long enough to symbolize
the wakefulness of living things.
Thanks to Anne Sexton, Margaret Atwood, Linda Pastan, and Robert Hass.
The darkened halls of nightmare is such a stark contrast to the pair of foxes symbolizing wakefulness and the beauty of this world. It’s such a hopeful poem. Thank you!
That hopefulness crept up on me and was such a welcome surprise!
Wow, beautiful!! These lines blend together perfectly. Amazing.
This is lovely Kate, all blended together so seamlessly… to wake in middle age and discover the wakefulness of living things…
Kate, I can’t help but be struck by how much middle age, for so many, hits them with grief in this very center of their lives, yet your narrator has embraced this center and wants to protect those who venture toward it. I love the addition of the red foxes as a reminder of the life yet ahead and the life that is just beginning for others. This is a beautiful poem.
Yeah… middle age is hitting those around me with grief and I’ve been (thankfully) experiencing it (or trying to) as a sweet spot: armed with more wisdom and experience than my teenager and not yet greatly limited like my elderly parents.
Oh, Kate, I love the title, and the lovely story your poem tells. The specificity of that “pair of red foxes” is magical.
There are all sorts of delightful shifts in this short poem: from dark to lit, “halls” to natural foliage, nightmares to wakefulness, uncertainty to clarity, and past to future. It makes me think that in their middle age, the speaker is more awake and alive than they have ever been before. The future is super bright and certain, like a pair of red foxes in the morning light!
Jennifer, thanks for poetic biography today. I loved that. I love the labels of the parts of your poem. It made me read through more carefully and wonder about each part. The Epilogue made me smile. Thanks for hosting today.
To America, 2025
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
O, let my land be a land where Liberty
flames as it has flamed.
I hear America singing–
Believing what we don’t believe,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
God mend thine every flaw.
_________________________________________________________
In order of appearance: Emma Lazarus, Langston Hughes, William Carlos Williams, Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, Claude McKay, Katharine Lee Bates.
This really is a genius compilation of lines! And such a powerful plea for America.
It’s wonderful how you’ve melded these words together to create an anthem for our times!
Denise, what a compilation of amazing poets who’ve all expressed what America can (and should) be. I can feel the hope within your arrangement, and the admonishment to mend our wayward direction. We want to hear America singing again. How I want this to be true.
Such an important letter to America. “God mend thine every flaw.” Drawing upon the masters, the words still ring truth.
Denise, the flow here is just perfect.Feels like inherent prayer for our country to stand for what she is meant to stand for….
God mend thy every flaw. If only…
Denise, I truly appreciate the title of your poem. I hear the cry for liberty and to mend the flaws that are stealing the very breath from many Americans. Brilliant poem full of righteous yearning!
Denise — This is beautiful and certainly strikes a chord with me. The kicker line for me was “believing what we don’t believe.” Gulp. Too true. Fitting poem for how I’m feeling. Thank you, Susie
So tight and unified! It shines quite a light on our country . . . from where it was to where we are.
Thank you Jennifer for today’s challenge. Your poem flowed easily and beautifully. I was very challenged by this prompt knowing I wanted to start or include a line from David McCord, the poet who shined a light on the beauty of poetry when I was in college. My draft is below:
Every time I climb a tree?
I like it best
To spot a nest
That has an egg
or maybe three
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches
up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven,
till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good
both going and coming back.
One could do worse
than be a swinger of birches
I had meant no harm,
I had simply
climbed the tree
for something to do
on a summer day
Thanks to David McCord (lines 1-5), Joyce Kilmer (lines 6-7), Robert Frost (lines 8-17) and Mary Oliver (lines 18-22)
Christine, you’ve threaded the imagery from trees throughout this so wonderfully (I have an affinity for trees!). I enjoy finding another way of thinking about Frost’s birches as bearing our weight (I always think of ice storm damage leaving them down like the girl’s hair in grief).You take the simple act of tree climbing “for something to do” and turn it into a beautiful observation of life.
I love how beautifully these lines build and weave together to make your poem. This makes me want to go climb trees myself — especially when I could find so much in their branches.
This is a fun and playful poem. I love the imagery of the black branches and snow white trunk. The line “One could do worse
than be a swinger of birches” just sends my imagination soaring.
Christine, I’m loving the summery tree climbing beauty of this one.
Jennifer, Thanks for the prompt. You inspired me to consider the writing and thinking of Paul L. Dunbar. I refer to two of his poems, “The Seedling,” a new one, and “The Caged Bird Sings,” a familiar one, both evoked by signs of Spring and the time of the school year. My maiden name is “Small”.
Paul, your poetry has inspired me
Since I was Small, not tall
“The Seedling” poem is new to me
But the image really is not at all.
Students of all ages
Come to us as fertile ground
There’s something there already
And we just have to figure it out
How do we help them grow
On the days they feel cold as snow?
Your poem calls them seedlings
You recommend sun and rain
Both are needed for learners to grow
With warmth, light and love over the years
Student intellect spawns in spite of the tears
Soon the caged bird begins to sing
What’s inside comes right out
New knowledge seems to sprout and shout
What each brings with them in their mind
Develops over time if we teachers are kind
Adapting what we know to what they know
They do the same with us
With little or no fuss than mud after the rain.
We’ve dealt with the mess, now I confess
Through the pain come sunshine and gain.
‘Cause we do better together.
I love how you built upon both poems and related them to our students. And the delightful picture adds to the message! Thank you for your creativity today!
Anna, this blending of seedlings and students and the growth that occurs is such a lovely thought for a spring day (the sun is shining here – hope it’s out for you too!). I love these lines most–”Adapting what we know to what they know/They do the same with us.” Isn’t that what learning and growth is all about? And that nod to your name is perfect.
Anna, I like your interpretation of the prompt today. It’s fun what you did here with Dunbar’s poems. That last line holds so much truth.
A great way to start my day and my month, Jennifer. I got to read some new poetry.Thanks.
The Earth doesn’t seem to move, but
sometime I fall
leaving a black hole
deep in my bones.
I will keep some of my strength for myself
and look the whole world in the face,
for I owe not any man.
(lines by M. Obermanm, Norla Chee, D. H. Lawrence, H. W. Longfellow)
Oh, Susan! Such truth throughout this piece. I know the keeping strength, retaining it in reserve for when it’s really needed, especially when looking the whole world in the face is required. This speaks to the world today, and yesterday, and tomorrow–that frozen place where we don’t seem to move forward. Love that last line!
We need to keep our strength – for our own self protection! We often loose sight of that. Thanks for this wonderful reminder.
Amen! Very powerful reminds me of me against the world by Tupac. Strong
work
Susan, nice! I do like: “and look the whole world in the face”
Jennifer, what a fun prompt for today. I always draw a blank when I try to think of poems and lines I love, but this allowed me to do some backreading in my digging, and it was fun!
I have been her kind.
Mother wanted to spare me
But nature is nature.
Like everything alive,
I was meant to be split open,
To bend,
To wither
A possessed witch,
To be misunderstood,
As not a woman, quite.
To die and die and die until I died.
I have been her kind.
Poets: Anne Sexton & Marie Howe
As women, we can’t escape who we are even if “Mother wanted to spare me.” Love the ties to being a witch and being split open.
Jordan, what a powerful commentary on women and their expected roles, despite nature is nature. I feel that dying, again and again, in the reaching, the doing, the striking down. Good stuff here! I’m glad you dug into backreading.
Jordan, what a great poem. I’m feeling a lot of these lines as a woman. That last line is great. “I have been her kind.” And we should hold our heads up high.
Good morning, poets!
So happy to back with you for a full month of poetry and community.
Thanks, Jennifer, for such an invigorating prompt. To avoid going down the internet rabbit hole, I limited myself to poetry at hand and the time I had before school. I had fun pulling books off the shelves, starting, of course, with my favorite poet, Wislawa Szymborska. I will return to this prompt as there was another Szymborska line that almost sent me in a deeper, darker direction—decided I needed to choose light today.
———————————————————-
Like a bird in the sky
In my dreams
I paint like Vermeer Van Delft
I am a place to live widely
Oh being propelled by a joy entirely
This sky won’t wait
While the moon stirred the trees
Not a single leaf let go
Binoculars are useful
Since from a distance
Even beauty is indiscriminate
I am at work
Though I am silent
—————————————————
Title: Nikki Giovanni
lines 1 and 2: Wislawa Szymborska
line 3: Lucy Griffith
line 4: Carrie Fountain
line 5: Naomi Shihab Nye
line 6: Gary Soto
lines 7-9: Bryan Walpert
lines 10-11: Louise Glück
In some cases, I added or removed line breaks and added capitalization at the beginning of lines. All words are of the great poets listed above.
Sharon, thank you for this lift today and the light it brings. I have reread this several times and cannot place which part is speaking most strongly to me. I love the idea of living widely and the leafs holding on despite stirrings and working while silent and being propelled by joy–see, it’s the whole thing! You’ve placed these lines so beautifully together, allowing us to celebrate the moments with you.
Beautiful – and thank you for introducing me to Wislawa Szymborska! I just spent a while reading through some of her poems, and they are gorgeous.
I especially love this pair of lines in your poem: “I am a place to live widely / Oh being propelled by a joy entirely”. Also the binoculars. Thank you!!
I feel like it’s a bit of a mess, but here goes!
You Survived
From Sappho to myself, consider the fate of women.
Could endure, endure.
Moon marked and touched by sun
my magic is unwritten
Like an ember, gold burns in its fingers
Phenomenal woman,
The ladies men admire, I’ve heard,
They’d rather stay at home at night.
Stop crying.
My status as a woman alone in the evening/
Freed in fact, not in custom, lifted from furrow and scullery,
If you made it this far,
– you survived
(Lines borrowed from Kizer, Ponsot, Lorde, Neruda, Angelou, Parker, Plath, Jordan, Kizer, Celestina)
What a great topic, Betsy. I love these lines together especially:
“my magic is unwritten
Like an ember, gold burns in its fingers
Phenomenal woman”
WHOA! Phenomenal gathering and piecing together, Betsy! That title and those ending lines are the ribbon tied ’round it all – one powerful package of a poem!
Betsy, these chosen lines speak to the power of women, to their fierceness and their ability to move beyond the scullery into finding their magic. I love that line–my magic is unwritten–what a reminder that women have been creating and inventing and solving all along and the stories have been removed, are in fact still being removed. And it speaks to the potential we have as well, the what is to come, the wait and see what I will do. Beautiful!
Betsy, that first line “From Sappho to myself, consider the fate of women,” packs such a punch with the spectrum it encompasses. I also love the lines together “my magic is unwritten/like an ember, gold burns in its fingers . . .” It’s such a lovely image and carries the weight of survival. Beautiful poem.
Jennifer–Wow! So much beauty, I find it hard to live up to your poem! This is a perfect start to Verselove–bringing other poets forward into our poetry. Thank you!
Advice
The world has gone mad, so
I go to my poetry books and open the marked pages.
Perhaps their wisdom will help.
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your wild and precious life?” (MO)
I will put one foot in front of the other and hope for the best.
“I’ve talked so much about loving the world without any idea how to do it.” MS
It is hard these days, I want to love our world again…
“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees” (MO)
But who will, if I am not good and do not walk on my knees? Who will?
What else can we do?
“We say in the grand scheme of things as if there were one.” (MS)
But I want there to be a scheme, even if it is not grand.
I will settle for a few workable solutions.
“Is it too late to say “too late” and hear the whole world take a rain check? I worry it is.” MS
I am afraid that we missed the raincheck.
Sadly, this is what we have right now.
“If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give into it…Joy is not meant to be a crumb.” (MO)
I will give in to joy moments. I will collect my joy crumbs.
I will pull them from my pocket when I need them.
“For now, just remember. Birds sing, babies cry, and no matter the weather, every morning is new.” (KB)
I will try to remember. Every morning is new. I will try.
“Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.” (MO)
I will.
Gayle Sands
4/1/2025
Poets: Mary Oliver (MO), Maggie Smith (MS), Kate Baer (KB)
Gayle, I love this idea of dialoguing with poets (I think students would really get into this concept too–such that they love to argue against, speak their minds, and acknowledge beautiful things). You embrace the crazed situation we are in and turned to those whose words spark fire to get us through, exactly as poets should, with every beautiful word and verse. I am following the joy crumbs now, gathering them into my pocket so that they may lead us out of this doomed fairytale (there’s a poem in that too–we are a modern day Hansel and Gretel, are we not? Ok, now you have me inspired to write a whole other thing today! Thank you for that!!).
I love the conversation approach you took here, Gayle. Such an inspirational poem. I love “joy is not meant to be a crumb”. Don’t think I’ve ever read it.
I love the great lines you’ve pulled and the dialogue you leave behind. The last line though reminds me to live each day and cherish the small moments of joy they may bring! Thank you
I’m always looking for ways to help my students write poetry. This is a fun idea. I think I might use your poem and idea for my students to practice, if you’re okay with that.
Of course! I hope they enjoy it…
Gayle — I’m going to try to pay attention to the messages here. “Every morning is new.” Breathe breathe breathe breathe. Thank you, Susie
Ooh, joy crumbs . . . I love that image! Stealing it.
What a crafty way of using notable lines from poems to inform your own responses. Love this!
Jennifer, Thanks for starting us off with such a wonderful prompt. I am home today recovering from Covid (yes, the bug is still here!) so I had time to gather some source material. It made my headache subside to do something creative. Your poem with its 3 parts is effective and challenges me to thing metaphorically about life.
You Can’t Have It All
but as light is to a star
you can have this dandelion–
Every flower is a good flower to see.
These domes of ghost stars
Astonish the grass–so much deliciousness.
Dazzle me, little sun-of-the-grass.
You can still summon the summer day
when you blew your wishes
to the wind.
(Barbara Ras, Robert MacFarlane, Amy Tan, Jean Nordhaus, Emily Dickinson, Aimee Nezhukumatathal)
Oh, Margaret, what beautiful words you’ve put together here in the midst of Covid recovery (sending hugs for that). You make me ponder whether I’d rather have the star than the dandelion–they both mesmerize is such expanding ways (that first stanza is my favorite!). And I’m going to add sun-of-the-grass to my kennings list. Feel better soon!
Whoa!! Every part of this captures me so excuse me while I go read all the possible poems the lines come from! Such a beautiful poem filled with excellent imagery and language
So ethereal and wistfully beautiful, Margaret – and here’s to the headache-healing power of poetry! I sometimes think it is THE cure-all. So sorry about COVID. My youngest had it a month ago – definitely still making the rounds.
Margaret – I love this affirmation of the dandelion as a “little-sun-of-the-grass” that astonishes, dazzles, connects us to deliciousness and to special days.
As spring is just making itself known here in the cold northeast, I cling to the line every flower is a good flower to see. I’m eagerly awaiting my gardening days and this line brings me hope and promise.
Sending healing thoughts your way. Poetry IS a great balm!
I have been seeing so many dandelions lately that I was particularly filled with joy when I came across this poem you wrote! I love the imagery of “domes of ghost stars” as it certainly captures the whimsy of these so-called weeds. I appreciate how you and the poets you pulled from acknowledge that “Every flower is a good flower to see.”
I gravitate to poetry with vivid imagery of nature. Beautiful.
Every flower is a good flower to see, indeed! That line speaks to me – – I’m even happy with the pop of yellow in a dandelion, even though it’s a weed – – a cheerful, sunny weed, to me, is as lovely as a flower. I love this!
Margaret! Thank you writing. I’ve been reading a few of the other heavier poems (which are amazing) and I definitely needed this lighter one to read. Definitely ending on a good note today with your poem. I’d like to think of your poem as, as we continue to trying to flourish we truly can’t have it all as you said but we shall still keep going.
I am on the world’s extreme corner
On the rich soil of the world
Glazed with rain
Jazz overflowed the radio
Then I danced my magic dance
lines borrowed from:
“Songs of Sorrow” by Kofi Awoonor
“Freedom’s Plow” by Langston Hughes
“Red Wheel Barrow” Williams Carlos Williams
“When I Was at my Most Beautiful” by Ibaragi Noriko
“You Laughed And laughed And Laughed” by Gabriel Okara
I love recognizing poems I love, almost as much as I love this sweet little poem. Nothing is wasted and it’s ordered perfectly. The poem itself is a “magic dance.”
Ashley, I am struck by how much these words speak to the world and our current place in it. I love that you have taken iconic lines (glazed with rain) and made them into something new so much so that I almost didn’t recognize them. Let the jazz flow (my family is in New Orleans today, as I read at home) and let’s dance our magic dances!
Ooo I’ve never read the Okara poem. What a joyous poem you put together. I love how it blends despite lines from such different types of poems!
Hello Jennifer and everyone!! Happy Poetry Month and Verselove
Thanks for starting with this type of poem Jennifer. I love your epilogue, the interruption of thought and turn to positivity.
I read Counting Descent last night and this morning and that’s the main inspiration for my poem today. I had never read the whole collection. I do like the idea of going back near the end of the day and making a poem of lines from poems today!
scared of writing another poem
all you can think of is the edge
of a sheet of paper, how empty it is –
a place where you are both
in love with and running from your own skin
maybe the poem is a cry for help
a good reason
to wash all of this away
that doesn’t mean you aren’t good
aren’t
able to
willing to
live in the along
with yourself
it’s the thing that makes
you special.
*Credit to: Clint Smith, Gwendolyn Brooks, Natalie Diaz, Naomi Shihab Nye, Jason Reynolds
Wow. I keep reading it and rereading it. You have captured such complex emotions of self-worth and self-love. I think I shall keep returning to this until I have something more to say than “wow.”
Wow, Angie – what an exquisite piece of tapestry you have woven. At some point or other the poet’s heart feels all these things, in this deep way. I am awed!
Wow (is there another way to begin at this point?!
Though, truly, it is the first word that came to mind while reading). This is exactly what I feel every time I sit down to write–scared, empty paper, in love with and running… I want to spend time with the words “live in the along.” They sit so precisely in that beautiful stanza and have me considering just what the “along” might, could, should be.
Thank you for this poem! I found myself hesitating to participate for fear of my writing not being up to par with everyone else’s. I was terrified to write, found myself enjoying searching for lines, only to fear posting the final product. What a wonderful way to articulate and connect with the feelings of creating something new!
We were all there once. We can’t wait to read and comment whenever you share!!
I love the surprise of “live in the along/ with yourself.” That’s what writing is. You have to take that leap of faith. Doesn’t it help when you can hold the hands of these other amazing poets?
I’m loving the poetry as a cry for help – – that’s a lovely line. So many times, it is help and the healing. All of these poets are so amazing, and I’m glad to see Nye with this year’s poem for National Poetry Month – – At Gate A4, with the spotlight line that’s the world I want to live in – the shared world. I love your lines.
Angie — What a perfect poem to start off our April Verselove! This haunts so many…that blank page. I love it. Susie
Angie-
This sooo captures the feeling of picking up the pen, or sitting in front of the screen and trying to capture the words to put together in a poem. That 2nd stanza really resonates!
Jennifer, what a breathtakingly gorgeous arrangement of borrowed verses! I have read it over and over, marveling at its perfection, its imagery, and the profound interrelation of lines. Stunning. I can keep rereading and never tire of it, and will still find myself catching my breath every time.
Thank you for kicking off VerseLove! Here’s to poetry, life, and light!
Lightgathering
A certain light does a certain thing
as the bird wings and sings.
I saw color and I saw a story. I saw a face
and I knew a lifetime
as each separate dying ember wrought its ghost
upon the floor.
Come to me…the light is fading;
don’t you see the evening star appearing?
Enough of pointing to the world,
weary and desperate.
Love that well which thou must leave ere long
for love is as strong as death.
*******
Sources:
1. Ada Limón, “The End of Poetry”
2. Robert Browning, “Rabbi Ben Ezra”
3. Ntozake Shange, Riding the Moon in Texas: Word Paintings
4. “
5. Edgar Allan Poe, “The Raven”
6. “
7. Lyrics,” Fantine’s Death,” Les Misérables, Hathaway & Jackman
8. “
9. Ada Limón, “The End of Poetry”
10. “
11. Shakespeare, Sonnet 73
12. Song of Solomon 8:6
Fran, your title had me returning to it multiple time and to draw all your lines together. This is an impressive collection of varied verses.
Hi Fran, I especially love the first four lines of this poem – it sounds like the beginning of a whole novel! Lovely.
Fran, right from the get-go, this poem captivated me. All of the “Lightgathering” in the ghosts of dying embers and the connections to love are so beautifully woven. Even though I know the words are borrowed, “I saw color and I saw a story” are representative of you and how you share your poems–there is always a story so perfectly told!
What an alluring title! I like the playfulness of “a certain light does a certain thing.” And the certainty of your ending lines. Yes, love is as strong!
Loving your use of Les Miserables lyrics here – – I can hear it…..oh, and it brings tears for little Cosette and Valjean. You really brought together an eclectic assortment of lines and put them together in a way that they fit and shine so perfectly! Wow! Just wow!
Fran, your title is fantastic! I adore how you opened this poem and the active verbs throughout this piece. The strong desire for light and birds radiates in this one! Stunning poem!
Jennifer, thank you for hosting us to launch Verselove 2025.
poetic numbers
137 pages
in the cloud
19,000+ words
lines, verses of drafts
109,000+ characters
emotions, breathing
over 5 years
floating words
in 1 doc
connections through statistics
without 30 days of #verselove
where would we be
Stefani, where would we be indeed!? It would be interesting to know how everyone does their writing (I have a separate pages doc for each month, filed into folders stored under Ethical ELA. I’ve often thought about writing in one google doc but it seems too late to change the system. Your mix of poetic words and analytics is like a blending between right and left brain hemispheres–an interesting nod to what happens during the creative process. What an amazing page count!
Stefani, I cannot imagine where I would be without this group. I tell people all the time when they ask my favorite holiday – – It’s April, National Poetry Month. Love that last line. Congratulations on your book, too! I saw it on Routledge with its forthcoming publication.
We would be without the breath and clarity that VerseLove offers… well-done!
Wow, amazing. I wish all my writing was in 1 doc but I don’t know what’s wrong with my brain/organization/life haha. So creative Stefani!
I was just wondering this morning how different writers organize their digital files! I love how you incorporate numbers and land on the key idea…where would we be??
April is my favorite month because of VerseLove!
I LOVE THIS: “137 pages/ in the cloud / 19,000+ words / lines, verse of drafts.” Here’s to you and the traditions!
Jennifer, what an AWESOME way to kick off National Poetry Month at VerseLove! I do love a Cento poem, filled with rearranged lines from favorites. Your word for moonlight is my name and the last line with the universe next door – – oh, it set me on a celestial trajectory this morning to steal the secrets of the stars. Thank you for hosting us!
For my poem today, I looked no further than my old Childcraft Volume 1: Poems and Rhymes, the book that started my love of poetry as an elementary school child. I sat in a dark closet with a flashlight for hours on end, mesmerized by the reading.
Stolen Childcrafted Celestial Secrets
I was going to the window
(to steal the secret of the sun)
too burning and too quick to hold
but something surely to behold
the swallows blow along the sky
the sparrows twitter as they fly
the wind is passing through
(hush, I stole them out of the moon!)
I have so much to tell!
-Kim Johnson
Here are the poems from which I took the lines, in order:
Once I Saw a Little Bird, anonymous
This is My Rock – David McCord
The Falling Star – Sara Teasdale
Song of the Wake-Up-World – Countee Cullen
April – Sara Teasdale
Wind Capers – Nancy Byrd Turner
Who Has Seen the Wind? – Christina Rossetti
Overheard on a Salt Marsh – Harold Monro (the poem that put a spell on me for life)
March – Emily Dickinson
Kim, my grandmother and mom gave me children’s books of poetry when I was little and I used to devour them too. I will have to go and find the titles today. Your lines came together so beautifully, as if they were meant to lie side by side all this time. The hush parenthetical aside feels like a whisper settling into my ear. I will be looking for things to steal from the moon today. What an adventurous idea!
Magnificent, Kim! As with Jennifer’s cento, your lines are arranged so perfectly that they ought to have been written this way in the beginning. And oh for the awe, secret desire, and enchantments of childhood! You weave a spell ’round us and pull us back, as we read. Pure magic.
Kim,
You and Kevin both have imagery of “holding”>
Thank you for bringing your hugs through words to us today.
Aww this is precious. I love the last two lines in the first stanza!
I love how you used () in your poem to give us aside lines. A great craft move! What a great collection to draw inspiration from (again and again).
Kim, bravo! I love the title and how you opened this poem. I can see you reading in a dark closet, capturing these lines and holding them close in your heart. Absolutely adore your final line. I’m waiting to hear it all!
Kim — I love the childlike, whimsical tone of the poem your created. “So much to tell.” is a perfect ending. Hugs, Susie
Kim-
This is such a great narrative that you crafted. I love the last tow lines and I can’t help but to see them as an introduction to the next 29 days!
I loved the way you threaded these lines together!
I am wander
a page spelunker
wrapping fingers
around verse
immersed inside
some other
poet’s writing
finding something
forgotten or missed
a glance a sound
a thought a kiss
Kevin
PS — I set off in another direction
“a page spelunker”… love it!!
Kevin, all directions are good directions. The figurative language here is expansive and beautiful.
ooh, I’m with Susan – – I’m loving the spelunker line. Diving into pages like a cave diver…..going deep with the thoughts of the words on the page. Beautiful metaphor here.
Kevin, I am feeling the “wrapping fingers/around verse” experience and visual. Thank you for sharing with us today.
“finding something
forgotten or missed”
I think about this idea when I go back and read the poems on here, or when I’m not able to read all.
Kevin – Thank you for inviting me to just delight in the finding by immersion.
“A page spelunker” really? Such a clever line. And I adore “a thought a kiss”.
Kevin — I really like the “wander” of the piece. “…immersed inside/some other/poet’s writing” … I struggled with that today, and detoured myself. Susie
I’m climbing these words with you, Kevin…spelunking through the sounds and “a thought of a kiss”.
Hello April, hello verse love! Thank you for this morning’s prompt, Jennifer! I’m off with a cuppa coffee to find verses for my poem.
Hello, Linda! So glad you are here.