Welcome to Day 2 of the July Open Write. If you have written with us before, welcome back. If you are joining us for the first time, you are in the kind, capable hands of today’s host, so just read prompt below and then, when you are ready, write in the comment section below. We do ask that if you write that, in the spirit of reciprocity, you respond to three or more writers. To learn more about the Open Write, click here.
Our Host: Jennifer Guyor Jowett
I celebrate poetry and sing poetry.
And what I write you shall write.
For every word belonging to me as good belongs to you.
(A variation on Walt)
Inspiration
Our chance of losing something in life is 100%. That something might be a missing item, a financial loss, a species, a memory, or even a someone. The rate of loss in biodiversity feels overwhelming. But a thing can be made stronger when we examine it through a new lens. Catherine Barnett wrote The Creative Drive, a poem that examines the disappearance of what is valuable to us. She supplants that loss by substituting the word “poems” for the disappearing item, bringing attention to the two and causing readers to think more deeply about both.
Process
Consider a recent loss–one that is personal or one that has the ability to affect hundreds. Explore some evidence of the loss through research. Borrow facts to use within your writing, but substitute another noun (abstract or otherwise) that is also at risk. For example, I substituted the word Kindness for Birds. You may choose to write your poem in a cento form, keeping lines/facts from other places intact or write in whatever way serves your heart today.
Jennifer’s Poem
Our Extinction
More species have gone extinct in Hawaii
than any other state.
and kindness is on the brink of joining that list.
There were once more than fifty species of Hawaiian kindness.
They were red and yellow
and lived in the native forests.
But this forest is quiet.
You barely hear any kindness.
Fifteen years ago, the population was over a thousand.
Today there’s anywhere from two to five left in the wild.
That means kindness will likely go extinct sometime this year
The Kindness Recovery Project is trying to help them hang on.
Several dozen have been brought here to protect what’s left.
They’re trying to grow the numbers of these kindnesses.
Right now they can’t release them back to the wild
because inside these walls is the only place that’s safe.
(Borrowed lines from this NPR article Birds vs Mosquitoes)
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. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
I’m sorry I did not get to write on this day–I love this idea and hope to use it with students. Thank you!
Thank you, Jennifer. I always enjoy your prompts and your poetry! Your poem made me think about lost kindness, and also about happy childhood memories that often feel lost now, so I wrote this about my cousins who were my best childhood friends but with time and the complications of adulthood, have become more distanced. (I borrowed lines from Willie Nelson, U2, and The Eagles.)
Dressed in beads and pearls
Our feet too small for Aunty’s high heels
We, the cousins, dance.
Perched high in the hayloft
We reached the sky
Lay beneath starlight
as time flew by.
The dresses are faded
Burned beneath adulthood fights
and distance grows through dim headlights.
Worn-down memories
and worn out heels
Some dance to remember
Some dance to forget.
The photos hold memory
And sometimes lie
Of those I used to know
And who we used to be,
Burning like candles
Atop the cake of memory.
We burned up our childhood days
Beneath the beam of the blistering sun
Under a black belly of cloud in the rain.
Right now they can’t release them back to the wild
Safe behind four walls where it can freely live.
I think I will share this activity with some of my colleagues. This is a great way to share content and assess comprehension with students. And if someone can help me remember this strategy where you break up a large article and have groups summarize each section because this is what I’m referring to.
I ended up writing an acrostic poem and I had to play around with the rhyme scheme because of the number of letters.
First World Problem?
Forgiveness waste is a common matter.
Occurs 40% at post-harvest in developing nations,
Occurs 40% at the retail and consumer in developed plantations.
Ditching forgiveness: blemished fruit and misshapen veggies that don’t flatter.
Security for forgiveness, or lack of it, is a problem avoiding the answer.
Where in the world did all the forgiveness go?
Around 1.3 billion tons are wasted and there’s no good reason,
Straightforwardly, it’s nothing to be proud of; to Mother Nature, it’s treason.
That is 6% of greenhouse gases emissions ammo.
Earth 2034: a landfill overflowing with garden potential.
Statistics and information taken from: https://earth.org/the-biggest-environmental-problems-of-our-lifetime/
Jessica, maybe you are thinking of a jigsaw activity? You have me pondering if forgiveness is really just a first world problem (somehow, that makes sense). This line stands out to me: “Where in the world did all the forgiveness go?” It feels as if we have lost our way, doesn’t it. And to have it all end in an overflowing landfill emphasizes the waste of leaving forgiveness behind. Striking poem!
Yes, that’s it Jennifer! I couldn’t get my brain to produce the term. Maybe it’s delaying summer vacation as well. And I pondered about the title for a moment and at first it didn’t make sense to me, but it kinda does… and thank you for your thoughts. It gives me a new perspective!
Thank you for teaching us about the food waste and forgiveness, Jessica! The numbers are just staggering. We do need to restore forgiveness.
Yes Leilya, it’s a sad thing that we can’t brag about. Yes, forgiveness needs to be restored and after a series of unfortunate events in the political world, we need more than just forgiveness! Thank you for feedback.
Threatened Librarians
Numerous mature and new-school librarians
are being removed.
We need a new national rule to ensure
these librarians remain standing,
to safeguard our future.
Continued threat of banning our school library books;
Federal agencies have done nothing
to correct the course.
America’s Vanishing Librarians
spotlight egregious examples
of the loss of books:
information
empathy
pure joy.
©️Jennifer Kowaczek July 2024
Jennifer, what a fantastic prompt! And I LOVE the use of “The Paved Paradise” from Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi.
My attempt here is very much a first draft. I started with “Threatened Forests” (www.environmentalamerica.org), substituting Librarian/Banned/Books for forests and logging.
Jennifer, hooray for you for thinking of the threatened librarians! They fit so naturally into the threatened forest facts. I appreciate the word standing here: “to ensure these librarians remain standing.” In brings to mind phrases like “in good standing” and images that are upright and elevated. And oh so hard do those losses (information, empathy, pure joy) hit!
Thank you for sharing Jennifer.
“America’s Vanishing Libraries”. We are definitely experiencing a loss of “information
empathy
pure joy”. I find the last one disheartening. We need joy!
Jennifer,
I am with you! I have so much fury about book bans and now the removal of librarians. I sure hope we get back to “information, empathy and pure joy” soon!
💜
I’m trying to comment but I keep getting an error message saying it’s a duplicate comment. I love your poem and I stand with you in this fight to save librarians.
Doggone it! I guess the wifi in St. Lucia didn’t push hard to get my post up this morning.
Jennifer, again you rock a brilliant poem and a thought-provoking prompt! My vacation brain wouldn’t let me spit the research or tweak more than one word. 😂
I read a quick article about book bans and went with a Golden Shovel. The line from the article is: Last year ended with a surge in book bans.
Fast forward to the year 2034. We witness the downfall of America’s Last
attempts at racist rulings. We begin a new year
with love and joy and all bans ended
Students’ backpacks filled with
books that teach truth and show them a
world where their genders, colors and cultures surge
through the world as power. Schools invest in
nurturing future leaders and most of all book
banslovers!©Stacey L. Joy, 7/21/2024
😡😡😡sorry for the repost! The airport is just now updating my page.
It’s even better the second read through!
Stacey Joy! I hope you are enjoying your vacay. I skimmed some of the poem for inspiration. Now as I am reading yours, I see you had a futuristic date as well…the exact same date! Yet, mine is dismal against your hopeful future. I love the strikethrough in bans, it’s such a word that needs to RIP. I resonate with three words in your poem: “power, invest, nuture…” words I will cling to hope for a new dawning. Thank you for sharing.
Oh, this was a tough one for me and I am not thrilled with the results. Thanks Jennifer for the challenge.
Defining Inspiration
Inspiration is a tricky mess
hard to define and assess.
In unlike realms, Inspiration means different things
and depends on the amount of boredom
that an area is accustomed to getting
along with a lot of vetting.
In Atlanta there could be a very boring period
but in Phoenix lots of inspiration.
When does inspiration start? That’s irksome.
Unlike earthquakes or tornadoes
that bring sudden results,
inspiration is gradual
and one must work some.
Taking a week, a month or a year
for full effects of inspiration
to really appear full gear.
When does boredom end? That’s awkward too.
A short relief a single inspiration brings
Then what to do
when waiting for weeks to pass
before inspiration springs.
I hope for inspiration
to keep my poems alive
and flowing less stiffly
without boredom, I strive.
Susan, you should be very happy with these results. I have just finished watching an episode of Getting Lost with Erin French and she spoke about the slow search for inspiration, about the love that goes into food in a gradual way. You write of that: “inspiration is gradual and one must work some… for full effects to really appear full gear.” This summer has been a slow burn of inspiration for me. Much needed, much like your poem.
Susan,
This was a challenging task, but your result is the perfect explanation for what I’m feeling right now. I resonated with this stanza because this describes me to a T:
“In unlike realms, Inspiration means different things
and depends on the amount of boredom
that an area is accustomed to getting
along with a lot of vetting.”
I recently did a few risky things because I was bored…and the desire to change inspired me! Thank you for finding the words to a feeling I couldn’t explain. I love this take on inspiration!
Jennifer,
Thank you for this fun new prompt and for your poem. These lines really rang true:
“But this forest is quiet.
You barely hear any kindness.”
We need more kindness in the world!
Fighting Apathy
Apathy is difficult
partly because humans are weird.
It’s difficult to get apathy to care about future generations.
You think apathy really cares about their imaginary great-grandkids?
But apathy does care about stock prices.
Empires and lucrative careers have grown from seeds of apathy.
Unlike the fuzzy details of unborn descendants’ lives,
apathy is an effusive reality.
It is that
Simple.
Borrowed lines from Bloomberg’s article “The Market’s Next Black Swan is Climate Change”
Tammi, thanks for sharing your article. I was particularly moved by your line “partly because humans are weird”. It’s incredibly sad to know how often people are not moved to action unless it hits their pocketbook.
Barb, I was about to comment the something similiar about this line. It moved me too!
Tammi, placing apathy alongside climate change seems incredibly appropriate. My favorite line is “empires and lucrative careers have grown from seeds of apathy.” And those last two stanzas speak truth!
Tammi, thank you for sharing today. Like I commented to Barb, these lines, “Apathy is difficult
partly because humans are weird.” resonated with me. Humans are weird and some of our lifestyles choices and decisions are based solely on any word that ends in day. But your last lines, should be the closing/benediction for every program/service, “It is that Simple.”
Jennifer, thank you for your prompt today. Crafting this one was a struggle trying to find a way to insert the hard facts and statistics. I will surely revisit this one to revise. Loved your line “You barely hear any kindness” which resonated for me.
Addicted
a new book arrives
offering immeasurable pleasure
soon everyone’s hooked
unable to sleep they clutch the book
they read, read, read
hearing strange voices
drumming a crazy brain beat
until their deranged with an insatiable need
to attain the next great read
voices speak, books are cheap
create your own inside your car
home brewed editions to share at parties or bars
but nothing does the trick
like that first novel fix—
anxiously waiting for the next
blockbuster….a real monster….
now mothers and lovers despair
frantic to banish books
knowing it’s impossible to defeat a beast
that always grows new tentacles
Barb Edler
21 July 2024
Ooohhh! Barb! No revision needed. I can just imagine a world of book addiction and how incredible that would be. And the addition of the book banning is just the subversion of expectations needed.
Barb,
Love this stanza:
“but nothing does the trick
like that first novel fix—
anxiously waiting for the next
blockbuster….a real monster…”
Books truly are addictive but a good one! 🙂
The last line is wonderful because it gives new hope! Your poems are always good.
Right out of the gate on that first stanza – – I’m so there. It’s so hard to put a great novel down and sleep. I’m over the book banning we are experiencing. It’s getting in the way of well-rounded minds, and I’m so glad to see that there are new tentacles, this beast.
Barb, I love this! There are always more books, right? Always “new tentacles”!
Oh, powerful. A perfect first stanza to show the power of books as a drug. I can relate to: “unable to sleep they clutch the book” And that ending is perfect. The books will be read, like a drug will be taken. Good job switching out the words in this one. I don’t know why those last two lines remind me of a quote I saw recently about books being banned not because people are afraid of books, but they are afraid of thinking.
Barb, I think you did great with this draft! Your poem reminded me about the probes in The Last Book in the Universe by R. Philbrick, where the people were hooked to the probes (addictive substances) to experience the “wonders” of the world. I like that your poem can be read two ways– considering books that can certainly be addictive and the actual unhealthy addictions that are “impossible to defeat.” Thank you for this striking poem!
Jennifer–This prompt–and your poem–are wonderful! Kindness is in short supply, and your poem. This–
“Right now they can’t release them back to the wild
because inside these walls is the only place that’s safe.”
I hope we start to hear the little baby kindnesses soon…
I suppose I twisted this prompt, writing not about the loss (rainfall) but the gain (drought); still it made me smile to imagine it about poetry – and these wonderful five days. Thanks, Jennifer!
The U.S. Poetry Monitor
is updated weekly
showing the location and
intensity of poetry
Be alert – we are now
absorbed by a period of
abnormal poetry conditions
to exceptional poetry
Oh, Maureen! I love the “intensity of poetry” and the “period of abnormal poetry conditions! How clever!
Maureen! I like to think of the “intensity of poetry” being depicted on a map and the area of the map where I live is deeply saturated~
Maureen– abnormal poetry conditions, indeed! Love this!
Maureen, the tone of your poem, signals a need to rectify the, “abnormal poetry conditions’. Brief but conveys a strong message.
“[W]e are now / absorbed by a period of / abnormal poetry conditions / to exceptional poetry”! Ah, yes! This is great, Maureen! Let it rain!
Maureen, what a fantastic poetic sequence….adore your lines “intensity of poetry/Be alert “.
Maureen, love it! It fits exactly where we’re at right now, in this moment, in this space. Focusing on the gain works beautifully too!
Maureen,
I love the way your poem captures the essence of our space here as it overflows with “intensity of poetry” and “exceptional poetry”!
So happy that there are three more days in the forecast for
Delightful poem, Maureen!
Maureen — This is a grand idea. I want to read these words again and again. Love it. Susie
Jennifer, thank you for the phenomenal prompt. I, too, have enjoyed the beauty of Hawaii and was surprised to learn about the birds becoming extinct.
Choir
Sounds coming from my chest, throat and diaphragm
started in church, the kiddie choir’s tentacles
reached out and I allowed them to envelop me.
Harmonizing in the shower became my release.
Middle school, high school and college organizations
continued using my vocals,
those appendages constantly seized hold of me
Once my church organized a gospel ensemble,
those feelers recruited me repeatedly and I can’t stop
delightfully vocalizing.
“ I allowed them to envelop me” – oh how I love the way song swallows us!
Seana, love the energy throughout your poem, the reaching of tentacles, the release in harmonizing, the seizing and holding and recruiting. Such vibrant word choices for such a vibrant expression of self!
Seana,
Your poem is so joyful and your passion for singing shines through your words.
Love these last lines –“those feelers recruited me repeatedly and I can’t stop/delightfully vocalizing.”
Sean’s, how encouraging your poem is to those who work with young ones and include music our teaching. We never know when or how times a song learned with us will see a kid, a teen, a grownup through tough times.
Though all are not likely to sing in a gospel chorus, the music may be the cause of their pausing and reflecting on good times and ultimately decide to hold the fort during bad times.
Feel red to send me a link to video or audio tape of your singing. I’m confident I’ll be blessed my your musicality there as I am reading your poem.
You have some vivid verbs in this poem that reach out and seize a hold of me! I love the image they invoke. I especially love the line, “kiddie choir’s tentacles reached out”
I am so amazed by the creativity in this group today. Especially our host Jennifer. I love the Kindness Recovery Project. What a fabulous – and needed idea.
i truly struggled to write with many distractions surrounding me. My draft is below:
Things are really heating up!
A lack of civility is seen in many places
Human-caused climate crisis brought a reduced civility in most parts of the world
Scientists say we can adapt to the change in civility
But where would we be without civility at the holidays?
Ha! Where would we be indeed? It’s amazing to me how many natural world issues and human created problems go hand in hand. Climate and civility seem to share a common reaction amongst people of late. And I’m left wondering it the which one is the cause of the other!
Yes, I think the ‘real’ heating up is a lack of civility – indeed!
Ahhh-the holidays! A shortage of civility then is critical…I hope the climate crisis is resolved by then.
Christine, your final question carries a terrific punch! Not only is our environment in crisis so is our ability to be civil so I loved how you used that word throughout.
Christine,
“A lack of civility is seen in many places” — This is so true!
Civility is such an important concept that is truly lacking. We need to bring this back.
Oh Christine, I hate to think that we probably will lack civility even at the holidays. Yes, things are heating up.
Jennifer,
Love the doubling of the extinction of kindness and birds. Alas.
Thanks for such a fun prompt. I ended up doing a bit of a backwards variation. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to write about so I turned to the NYTimes and found an article, “Anchovies are always a good idea” which lead me to an older NYTimes opinion piece, “A Brief History of a Problematic Appetizer” Since I came up with the article first, and the lost topic second, my poem is more on the nose, perhaps too much so, but I still had fun writing it.
Restaurant Staple
Americans don’t always
have an appetite
for play
as recently as 1970
US fisherman caught play
mostly by mistake
tossed it back
or used it as bait
by 1990, however,
the invertebrate—
now masquerading
as screentime—
had become
a restaurant staple
Sharon, I love what you’ve done here. There’s something to the unappetizing aspect of anchovies that creates tension when play is substituted for it, causing us to think more deeply. (Are anchovies always a good idea?or ever a good idea??). That last stanza is spot on.
How fun to replace ‘anchovies’ with ‘play’ – I love the idea of catching play “mostly by mistake/tossed it back/or used as bait” (wonderful rhyming, too). So fun!
I am a huge fan of play (a fan-ette of the anchovies)! Your poem was a delight–fishermen catching play by mistake! Tossing it back, using it as bait. “Masquerading as screentime” gave me pause, reminding me of an incident earlier this summer. I’d invited some guests for lunch and one asked if she could bring her daughters (ages 7 & 9). I said of course, then bought a cheap kite and fresh playdough, dug out the sidewalk chalk. When the girls arrived, I offered the “play” options, but they had brought their devices and instead “played” on their screens for two hours. So it goes.
Allison,
Those girls missed out. Such a bounty of fun and kindness you offered—a kite, fresh playdough—which must have smelled so good — and sidewalk chalk.
My school is about to go phone free and i hope it will remind all of us, teachers and students, of the experiences we can have when we put our devices away.
Sharon–
as recently as 1970
US fisherman caught play
mostly by mistake”
Perfection!
Sharon,
This was a really clever substitution and it works really well in your poem. It is unfortunate that screentime has usurp play. Kids and adults need more time away from our screens!
I had to check the date
had to make sure the article
wasn’t published April first
some kind of put on, some
kind of joke like the 1957
Spaghetti Tree video from
the BBC or the 2023 Britbox
streaming service “feature that
would allow American viewers
to switch between British and
American accents” or Velveeta’s
skin care line “V” which “showed
a night cream jar that appeared
to contain melted cheese.”
No. This is worse, worse than
smearing cheese all over your
face while pulling pasta from a
tree and thinking that you can
now use words like “chuffed” and
“knackered” in everyday speech,
Oh, no, gov’nor, this is way worse.
This was published on
May 1st 2023 from the MIT
Technology Review: “a new system”
that could “capture exact words
and phrases from the brain activity
of someone listening to podcasts.”
With the help of AI, these scientists
at the University of Texas are able
to interpret whole sentences from
a subject’s brain waves collected
from a completely noninvasive
fMRI scan.
Now, I know what you’re thinking,
Let’s just get rid of podcasts, easy
peasy, right? But is it? Could we live in
a world without Radiolab or This
American Life or Smartless?
Is this a world you want to be a part of?
No, the best thing to do is to not allow
men (or women – this is 2024) in lab
coats to put you in an fMRI machine
while you’re listening to said podcasts.
Right? Right. That’s the best way
to avoid this whole thing.
Also don’t listen to the 1984 audiobook
by Peter Capaldi while being scanned
because they’ll know that you know
about the Thought Po–
uh-oh, this is a thing better left
unthought
_____________________________________________________
Jennifer, I loved your bio! And thank you for this prompt and your mentor poem today. The swapping of birds and kindness was so well done and made us think about the loss of both more deeply. And thank you for sharing “The Creative Drive” by Catherine Barnett with us today, too. I will definitely use her poem in my classroom. In terms of my offering, I had every intention of completing the prompt, with the whole “swapping out” by the end, but I didn’t quite get there, lol. I started with searching for recent scientific discoveries because, you know, when we “gain” something sometimes we “lose” something as well, and that led me to this wonderful (?) and slightly terrifying discovery by these University of Texas scientists. And that was, as they say, that. Now, the April Fool’s Day info came from the AI Overview in Google Search (so, I’m not really sure how to cite that – welcome to a teacher’s life in 2024, lol) but the MIT article can be found here.
Scott, this was one of the creepiest ideas I’d ever heard of; thanks for sharing! XD
Loved your poem’s take on it. And I very much enjoyed learning about the myriad April Fool pranks — my daughter would ADORE a spaghetti tree.
Ummm…
I kept hoping that the brain scan thing would be an April first joke – what kind of rabbit hole did you find yourself in?!? I do love how you ended this – better to avoid the labcoats than the podcasts and the reference to 1984, but gosh, golly, what are we getting ourselves into?
Scott, your poem is such a complex metaphysical representation of the way AI is, and will continue to be, an unavoidable part of our lives. I love the allusions and infusion of humor. Is that the “Turing Test” that will save us from ourselves?
This is really frightening – this image of MRIs scanning our brains for podcasts, oh my. Wonderful ending,
Scott–please let it be a falsehoo…
never mind.
AI possibilities are definitely frightening. Skynet may be in our future afterall! LOL!
But this —
“ best thing to do is to not allow
men (or women – this is 2024) in lab
coats to put you in an fMRI machine
while you’re listening to said podcasts” — is sound advice!
Jennifer, thank you for this prompt. I am glad to learn about the “cento” form, though I did not use it, We have been following our son virtually on his trip to Niagara Falls. I have been reminded of how times have changed since I traveled at his age. I try to reflect that in my poem here.
Europe
When we were young,
We traveled on a whim,
Our plans turned on a dime.
Before you knew it, we were off
With folding maps.
No one could track our flight,
And we often forgot to dial home.
Our poor mothers.
We got lost,
We took the wrong train.
We took pictures with little green disposable cameras
And waited eagerly until we got home to
Have the images developed.
We bought and mailed postcards
Using ornate stamps which we licked.
We wore our passports in fanny packs,
How funny.
We called from phone booths
Using pence or marks or francs
To find out if youth hostels had an opening.
We did not imbibe from insulated tumblers,
My God, we were all but camels,
Surviving on six ounces of CocaCola from
little green glass bottles – lukewarm.
We might have carried phrase books
Which were no help when
The French refused to understand us.
We asked directions from strangers anyway.
We were in awe and we were sometimes awful.
Truth be told we would do it all again
In a heartbeat.
Katrina, I have traveled both ways and the freedom in obscurity of the past is doubtful to ever return; though, I would jump at the chance for it. Travel felt like more of an adventure then, and you really were getting away. I loved navigating by paper map (and AAA triptiks). But I gotta say, having the phone to help navigate makes it oh so much easier! Love your poem!
Katrina, this was a wonderful picture of youthful play, lost. You were lucky to have such a fearless and bold youth! It’s true what Mark Twain said about regretting what you didn’t do more than what you did do, and I often wish that I had been bold and confident enough to do things like this.
I loved this bit of wordplay, especially:
“We were in awe and we were sometimes awful.”
…now, THAT, I can relate to from my young years!
Katrina,
thanks for returning us to the thrills—and challenges—of pre-digital travel.
Many of your details made me smile in recognition including:
Safe travels to your son and I hope you have an opportunity to travel again soon!
Oh, Katrina–you are taking me back to a freer and more wonderful (foolish?!), riskier time. I, too, would do it again. Thanks for the memory.
Thank you Jennifer, guided by your poem I exchanged butterflies for humility.
This sent me to researchon butterflies in Ghana and wrote the stanzas that I am used to.
Less Humility in my World
There is less humility around
This dawned on me when I saw
many forms of humility in Ros’s garden
Struck whenever humility flew by
It also took me down memory lane.
When we were much younger,
there was humility everywhere,
their habitats were intact
Their colors and range delighted me
there were over eight hundred species
Humility is fast diminishing
I could tell you that
Eradication of forests, a cause
Drive to preserve humility, a bonus
Conservation areas, pockets
of forests being preserved
Demand for humility
around the world, they claim
is no threat. It is obvious,
there is less humility in our world!
Source for my research:
https://abdb-africa.org/library/bibliography/2195.pdf
Anna, I am noticing a trend of writing about character traits emerging in today’s poems, old-fashioned character traits that no one seems to strive for anymore. Humility is one of those. I can’t help but feel the world would be a better place if humility was allowed to thrive, yet we keep ripping down all attempts to preserve it. Great substitute for butterfly!
Juliette! How did I do that?! (I think because I was catching up and Anna’s was the last post I hadn’t responded to and then I scrolled to the top and found yours while my mind was still on the first one.)
Juliette,
here’s to more humility! And butterflies! It’s sad that our selfish pride has led to such a decrease in biodiversity.
[Jenn – While I got ideas from the prompt, I managed to fly far afield today. Susie]
MY 100%
I’ve lost my 100%,
that full-bore,
my lift for winged flight;
at the checkpoint,
I was low on fuel,
high on contaminants,
gnawing imperceptibly
at my percentages;
yet, 100%,
that’s just relative —
it’s how I transduce —
how I read the map,
reorienting North,
how my heart hears
harmonies in the strings,
how my ears ricochet
signals into song,
how my words thread a nest
for the prismatic feathers of my fantasia —
that translates my numbers
into solid ground.
by Susie Morice, July 21, 2024©
Susie, so glad you flew far afield! Your words are lovely (feathers of my fantasia), soothing (harmonies in the strings), and wondrous (words threading a nest). Though I feel like I (and you) need your numbers to be 100%. Prayers that they will be soon!
Susie, you are conquering this week! Way to write and cast out the contaminants. Thank you for your honesty and for tweaking the prompt to fit what you need. Here’s to your numbers getting on to solid ground.
Susie, I’m so glad you managed to fly far afield today. Your opening line immediately grabbed me by the heart, and I love how you weave the language of birds and flight into your poem. Your final stanza is such a gift to read. I admire how you connect your essential actions to music. Your words create incredible sensory images such as “harmonies in the strings,/how my ears ricochet/signals into song,/ how my words thread a nest”…truly stunning lines that lead us to your close! I hope you will be back to 100 percent soon and back to flying high. Hugs, dear friend.
Susie,
Your strong verbs give me such a sense of uplift!
Beautiful!
Hope the act of writing this helped you to
Susie, I’m feeling that first stanza as if my own fingers could have written those words. I, too, am raising my hand in solidarity with the loss of 100%. I feel it in my hands, in my feet, in my strength, not quite like Charlotte in the web, languishing quite yet, but oh – – there is quite the reminder this month that I had a birthday and the calendar knows and is taking its fees. I’m with you, friend, and I too want to hear the music in the signals and grow some prismatic feathers. It’s lovely, these words today.
Jennifer, thank you for hosting today. I like the prompt that challenges us to explore losses and your poem about the extinct birds in Hawaii. The word replacement with “kindness” seems so relevant. We so need “to grow the numbers of these kindnesses.” I also looked up the extinct species and was going to write about Dodo, but Bishop’s poem “One Art” kept popping in my mind. I went with the final three lines for the Golden Shovel. What came out is somewhat surprising and seems a bit hyperbolized; I do believe in the technology, its benefits, and need for progress, but I think for kids who don’t know the world without screens, “a human touch” might be something elusive. I often observe families with young kids where the parents and children are on their devices all the time during the outing, plane ride, or wait at the Doctor’s office.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Elizabeth Bishop
The glowing screens replaced the art
of talking for the art of losing;
the sight of dear faces isn’t
frequent anymore; it’s hard
to find a friend who’ll rush to
meet in person. Some master
typing faster listening with care; so
“w8 4 me @Discord” is a new normal, and many
voices fade into the clicking sound; things
that matter to the heart seem
replaced by emojis & pixels, filled
with hype & chatter. With
the technology at fingertips, the
playing outside with kids or quick intent
to meet in person turns into a burden: to
put a nicer dress or suit, to brush the hair be–
come somehow rare. The human souls lost
in a sea of digital bites and clouds that
replaced warm phone conversations by their
fleeting messages. Do you call this a loss?
Can we move forward out losing past? Is
This what’s called a “no disaster”?
Ups! The line before the final should be: “Can we move forward without losing past”?
It seems I copied the wrong version. I keep finding missed words.
Lines 6 and 7 should read:
“Some master
typing faster instead of listening with care; so“
Leilya, how perfectly fitting are Elizabeth Bishop’s words in you poem. You weave them so fittingly into your theme. Every line is a rewarding read, for example: “so “w8 4 me @Discord” is a new normal, and many/ voices fade into the clicking sound;” The whole concept of what we have lost has me thinking.
Leilya, I started to write that those first two lines really hit hard, but then I reread the 3rd and 4th and 5th and 6th… and I just kept finding truth. This is a beautiful (but hard) line: The human souls lost in a sea of digital bites. As much as tech replaces human interaction, I interact more frequently with people far away because of it, though not necessarily in a better way (warm conversations lost tofleeting messages).
Leilya, you need to share this with your students. I bet their discussion would be provocative. I think you’ve captured a crucial issue that is creating anxiety in our young people. I love the way you included texting language here to illustrate the new norm and your question at the end is chilling. The golden shovel approach is perfect to show this alarming trend of replacing screens and texting from meeting and conversing face to face. I think we need to go back in time and establish meetings like The New England Transcendentalists had. Thank you for sharing this brilliant poem today.
Leilya, I’m reading a book now called The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt. I feel for those children who aren’t afforded a life of playing outside and having family conversations without devices. Such a powerful poem. This makes me sad.
Hi, Jennifer! Thanks for hosting us today!
It was a beautiful morning for kayaking here in Central New York, and I was reading Robin Wall Kimmerer’s lovely book, Braiding Sweetgrass, while on the water. Your prompt was the perfect complement to the morning!
Reflection
When peering into water off a bow,
Reflect and pause and stay a busy oar:
Consider blurred reflection of a bough
As moment grows (and moments do, for sure),
Reminding us that nothing truly needs
Us here for anything: all will endure
When life and breath from weary body bleed
Still trees will grow a ring to cushion years
And baby ducks will learn to mothers heed
Following fast as mother – smooth, sure – steers
As birds return to roosting place again
Unbeset by human doubts and fears
And burly face on tree god down the bend
Will stolidly keep watch on moon’s ingress
Rememb’ring naught of me, his human friend.
Wendy, I am drawn to a sober truth of your second stanza and realization that “nothing truly needs / Us here for anything: all will endure.” Thank you for reminding that we are merely guests here on Earth! A beautifully worded poem with rich imagery.
Wendy, your words placed me right there alongside you in the kayak. I felt the lifting of the oar, the blurred bough, the baby ducks and the burly face of the tree god. I needed this stilling moment right at this moment (thank you for that).
Wendy, your poem is ethereal. Love the peacefulness you create through your vivid and musical language. Your second line is such a delight and I loved “When life and breath from weary body bleed”. Stunning, gorgeous poem. Perfect title, too!
Wendy, BRAIDING SWEETGRASS completely changed my view of nature and the interrelatedness it shows. Your poem, too, particularly verse 2 reminds that though nature and we as transient, our present and our passing occur for a reason. All will endure, just not at the same time.
Thanks for evoking fond memories of books read, people known and challenges that lie before me.
Wendy, this is sheer beauty. First, I love Kimmerer’s book and have found it so much more challenging over the past weeks cleaning out the attic and barn after reading about the ethics of the wood. I have never managed to kayak and read at the same time – – I admire your boating confidence! Mostly, I love your vocabulary choices and the rhyme scheme in iambic pentameter. Genius! Sleek and flowing!
Jennifer, thanks for reminding us that poets before us have written about issues important to us today. The idea of writing in cento form, based on the words of others, sent me to the familiar Poetry Foundation website, where I found diverse writers who paved the way for expressing thoughts about current social situations. The quoted lines are bolded, and the poets and their poems are listed below.
Why Bother?
Wind, spirits, tumbleweeds, pain.
If this were all, what have we to gain?
Ah, here comes the anti-racist train.
Ambivalent City, you know the way,
but you let me find it, the statue,
the library, miles away
Learning together how to articulate
Will help us all no matter how long the wait
We just may hear someone like this
“I just want to say I’m sorry.”
He climbed back into his truck
and drove away.
Even when they drive away, they have apologized.
We’ll watch and pray as we dry tears from our eyes.
Dwelling on the negative
would be a total waste
So, no matter the wind or the spirit
The tumbleweeds or pain
We can say with Dunbar and Angelou
I know why the caged birds sing
This is just a temporary thing!
Let’s pick up our lights and let them glow!
*****
“Healing Gila” by LAWSON FUSAO INADA
“City of Grace” by JAKE ADAM YORK
“Minor Miracle” by MARILYN NELSON
“Caged Bird” by MAYA ANGELOU
“Sympathy” by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR
Thank you for your poem today, Anna! I liked the lines you borrowed from the poems of the others. I am reminded to hold on to two ideas that are timely and relevant: learning together always helps and dwelling on the negative is “a total waste.” The final line gifts us a hope.
Anna, you’ve created a beautiful collection of words from beautiful poets! They are speaking to me in ways you probably didn’t intend (how could you know what news would post in the last hour or so?). Your last stanza lifts me up. I will be carrying your final words, Let’s pick up our lights and let them glow (we need this to happen!) as a balm to soothe and offer hope for the future.
Anna–beautiful collection of ideas and lines…
Anna,
There is so much I love in your poem. I’ve come back to it for the past few days as I’ve thought about writing one myself. I love the image of tumbleweeds and wind and spirit and pain all rolling together. And your conclusion about this being a temporary thing. So often we get caught up in the negativity of this world but you remind us to shine our light!
Bananas – An Allegory
Picture this, a lush Panamanian jungle in 1950,
Verdant and bountiful.
Acceptance hanging in bunches, ready for harvest.
Slowly, a pernicious fungus creeps through the roots and trunk,
Killing the entire plant.
Scientists and moguls, desperate to save Acceptance from extinction,
but primarily to protect their bottom line,
Cloned the surviving plants and surreptitiously replaced the entire commodity.
Is there a noticeable difference between the older form and the newer one?
In a blind taste test, 46% rated the newer form of Acceptance higher than the original.
However, the clone is under attack.
A new form of corruption is attacking Acceptance.
The only solution is to eradicate the pestilence with education and activism.
Once again, intelligence will restore the natural order and protect Acceptance from extinction,
Or not.
Oh, boy! That two worded last line packs a punch. I feel for the bananas but even more for Acceptance. If the rate of the natural world continues to change this quickly, I can only imagine our humanity towards one another will follow. Powerful stuff here, Shaun!
Shaun — The rapidly replaced bananas have been a shocker to me, as I’d read about it a long time ago. I love how you point out that “acceptance” is a key part of the whole mess. The allegory is a powerful tool for nailing the impact of change…”or not.” Well placed and powerful words right there. This is a piece that deserves several reads. Thank you. Susie
Shaun, your allegory on bananas is right on the spot. We need intelligence “to restore the natural order and protect Acceptance from extinction.” As others noticed, your final line is crucially powerful. Thank you!
Wow! “Acceptance hanging in bunches, ready for harvest.” What a harvest that was. That last line–oof.
Wow! This was a powerful poetry exercise! Thank you for the prompt!
how to save a planet
Truth arrived on Earth a few hundred million years after the planet formed
cosmic snowballs smashed into Earth
from these tiny beginnings, the planet’s truth grew
Truth spread outward from the poles
advancing over land and sea without prejudice
since then, truth has retreated and advanced, over and over, with the buildup and dissipation of gases
a first stub of Western Truth appeared around the same time
it took longer to grow, and it was more unstable
it is still unstable, and growing more so
underneath the miles-thick Truth lurks a dark world
the loss of Truth would be catastrophic
if truth vanishes entirely, exposing the underlying bedrock to the violence of the cosmos…
unpredictable geopolitical ripple effects
imagine if truth could be drilled down
truth gushing from pumps
freezing into tiny crystals before splashing to the surface like a truth gun
the remaining truth would flow toward empty lakes
with luck, a cooling feedback loop would be triggered
Truth would freeze in place
catastrophe would be avoided
humanity would have time to get its act together
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
July 21, 2024
oops…forgot to give the backdrop…I substituted “Truth” for the word glaciers. I used this article as my inspiration/line-mining: https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2024/07/nasa-nisar-mission-glaciers-sea-ice-thwaites/678522/?utm_source=newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=the-atlantic-am&utm_term=The+Atlantic+AM
Patricia, such a powerful poem! Right from the onset, I felt the ebb and flow of truth. I’m reminded of Yeats’ The Second Coming. Truth is the perfect replacement for glaciers and is made all the more powerful because of the backdrop of lines from the article. Love that last line!
Patricia, I guessed glaciers from your skillful description in the beginning. You final three lines give me hope. Thank you for sharing the poem and the article!
Patricia, yes, TRUTH: “the loss of Truth would be catastrophic” I love the idea of Truth freezing in place to avoid catastrophe. You chose a a great word to replace glaciers. Thank you for sharing the link.
Patricia–yes–“the remaining truth would flow toward empty lakes
with luck, a cooling feedback loop would be triggered”. Oh, yes. We could use a truth well in our crazy world…
Hi Jennifer! What a masterpiece you’ve written from such a unique and thought provoking prompt. I am in the midst of a full day of travel to get back home so my comments will be forthcoming.
I read a quick quote regarding book bans. I didn’t change much other than one word. Vacation brain is not allowing for more. 😂
I used a line from my search as my Golden Shovel’s striking line:
“Last year ended with a surge in book bans.”
Fast forward to the year 2034. We witness the Last
of america’s racist policies end. We begin a new year
with love and joy and all bans ended
Students’ backpacks filled with
books that teach truth and show them a
world where their genders, colors and cultures surge
through the world as power. Schools invest in
creating future leaders and most of all book
banslovers!©Stacey L. Joy, 7/21/2024
Link to my source.
https://www.npr.org/2024/04/16/1245037718/book-bans-2023-pen-america
Stacey, safe travels today! Your poem rings truth loudly. It reminds me of MLK’s vision of his children’s future and how it can be better than what we currently face. I can envision this future along with you. We need this future. And I love that you struck out the last word in the striking line!
Stacey — I want to live for such a time. Heaven help us all… we NEED this. Hugs, Susie
Stacey, I like the forward-thinking in your poem. It makes me sad to think of the toll book bans are taking on our “future leaders and most of all book/
banslovers.” I hope you are a prophet in addition to being a poet.Stacey, yes to hope in all of this. Well done. No vacation brain there. I love what you did with the last line. May I add that there won’t be any need for the students’ backpacks to be bulletproof because there will also be no more school shootings. Safe travels to you today, friend.
Stacey, you’re speaking to my heart today. I love how the golden shovel format shows the line from the article and provides what the true issue at hand is with the strikeout on bans. Please, let your poem be what the future will be. We’ve got a long way to go to stop this backward pull into the dark ages where the afflicted our spurned and hidden in attics, etc. Banning books is an ugly strategy to hide the truth. I applaud your line “world where their genders, colors and cultures surge.” Yes, to more of that please!!
This is brilliant and perfection! If only we could change all book bans to book loves! I for one will keep trying! Thank you!
I thought about soil erosion in Iowa alongside the erosion of our attention spans in our phone-addicted lives. The borrowed lines are from this Smithsonian article by Becca Dzombak – April 14, 2021
The Nation’s Cornbelt Has Lost a Third of Its Attention Span
We are facing widespread attention degradation.
In 150 years or so,
we’ve lost almost half of our rich attention spans.
Minds hunger
for the carbon-packed composition of rich attention.
We need the nutrients that extended concentration stores,
unlike the compacted, infertile dopamine hits from our phones.
Scientists and farmers
know that erosion of attention has been a problem for decades.
The elusive question:
How much attention has been eroded
in the Corn Belt,
which stretches roughly from Ohio to Nebraska?
At at what cost?
Phew, Allison! It’s almost as if the article were written about attention span loss. It’s interesting to think of attention in terms of fertile ground as it truly is. And there’s something about the juxtaposition of technology-degraded attention spans being placed in the setting of our cornbelt. It’s almost as if our humanity is degrading along with our environment.
Such a great metaphor, Allison! I love “Minds hunger/for the carbon-packed composition of rich attention.”
Allison, this works so well and “attention span” is certainly worth very close scrutiny (as well as soil erosion) nationwide. I particularly like “carbon-packed composition” applied to attention and “has been eroded”…darned right about that. Well done! Susie
Allison–what an apt metaphor– How much attention has eroded? Too much!
Allison, fantastic poem. I love how you were able to replace erosion with attention degradation since both are mind-numbing. Last year I read a book that detailed the hog farm pollutants and land loss occurring in Iowa, and it’s truly frightening. Your closing question is a punch in the gut. Loved the line…”infertile dopamine hits from our phones”…II also adored your title. Another incredibly powerful poem! Bravo!
I love the prompt! What an ingenious(almost devious) plan to incorporate research into a creative lesson! I saw that another writer used Hope, but I couldn’t think of a replacement ; ) Or, I didn’t want to think of a replacement.
Source material
(Bob)Hopes in California
New regulations established in 2020
Section 4155
Hope cannot be trapped
or hunted
(except through proper
authorization)
Section 4181
Landowners experiencing
damage or danger
from hope
can apply for a permit
and take
hope
down
Facts about Hope
Hope is naturally
suspicious
of people
It is best practice
to discourage hope
and human
interactions
Ambre, this is very clever and cryptic in a way, as the form invites. The section numbers indicate numerous regulations. The apply for a permit to take hope down is perfect. I am loving that line.
Ambre, this is such an interesting mix of hope and bobcat (and love how Bob Hope ends up here too). It’s a sorrowful and truthful read with bobcats as the topic, along with the bobcat regulations when they’re doing their thing and we’re in their space. It’s even more sobering to think of hope being regulated and hunted. If sure feels like that’s the climate we’re in right now.
Ambre–this stanza is chilling–
Section 4181
Landowners experiencing
damage or danger
from hope
can apply for a permit
and take
hope
down
This feels so post-apocalyptic. I could see it as a sign posted in a surviving forest…
I love this prompt and the poem you’ve written. Kindness is one of my favorite words and tracking its loss along with the birds going extinct makes both loses that much more poignant. The line ~ that means kindness will likely go extinct sometime this year ~ caught in my throat as it is particularly meaningful this year. Meaningful and heartbreaking. Your prompt made me want to go deep as well but a very real memory insisted on being shared.
When Me and the Beatles Were Young
The transistor radio cased
in white leather
was a birthday gift
from my parents.
For three days, I loved it.
I carried music everywhere—
I carried music, coolness
and budding confidence all cased
in white leather.
She loves you yeah, yeah, yeah,
She loves you yeah, yeah, yeah,
With a love like that you know
you know you should be glad.
Three days after my birthday
I left my music, my coolness
my confidence
on the supermarket cereal shelf.
Twenty minutes later
and every day for a week
I checked the supermarket
lost and found
but my music, my coolness.
my budding confidence was gone.
So too was my trust in people.
After all, if I found
a brand new transistor radio
cased in white leather,
sitting on the cereal shelf
of the corner supermarket,
I’d bring it to the lost and found.
Wouldn’t everybody?
But no one ever did.
Hey Jude! take a sad song
and make it better.
Oh, Ann, what a story of disillusionment. That title too. The foreshadowing in “For three days…” made me know a sad song was coming. Oh the loss of “my music, my coolness, my budding confidence” in such a selfish act is heartbreaking. I loved your use of the lyrics within your poem too. Beautiful poem of loss.
Ann, I’m reminded of watching a home movie with your poem, perhaps because of the nostalgia or because of the vivid details. But it takes me back to childhood and the joys and losses found there. Your belief in people doing the right thing has a sense of both. Trust is childlike. It’s only with experiences that we lose that trust, as you so perfectly capture. Love the use of Beatles lyrics here too!
Ann, I loved this. What an imagistic narrative. And I love the incorporation of the Beatles’ lyrics in it. I’m sorry your radio was stolen and that it undermined your faith in humanity at that young age. (People do kind of suck sometimes.) Loved reading this. <3
Ann, your image of loss here is just as real as the radio you describe. And what a loss it was, “Three days after my birthday/I left my music, my coolness/my confidence/on the supermarket cereal shelf.” Furthermore, you reveal a loss of innocence in “I’d bring it to the lost and found./Wouldn’t everybody.” We never forget those first early losses. Thank you for sharing.
This takes me back–the music, the transistor. And the loss. Your last lines say it all-“But no one ever did” and that song. I’m humming it now.
Jennifer, your kindness poem resonates. Kindness is endangered. Poems are endangered. So much is endangered. But they will live on! “The Kindness Recovery Project is trying to help them hang on.” and “Some poems may stay as a nuisance, as a gorgeous marker of time.” Thank you for helping us all create the fun reading for today.
Thank you, too, for your always unique, challenging, and edifying prompts. This was quite an exercise. I stumbled into some fascinating research this morning like about the almost 300 women heads of state in the last century (but not in the U.S.), the stigma-free use of rhino horns in some countries, and more. I settled on the Mojave Desert Devil’s Hole Pupfish, from where the words in my poem were found.
We Depend on Hope
The tiny critically endangered Hope
has reached a 25-year high. This
number marks the highest spring
count for Hope in more than two
decades. Above water surveys
carefully monitor Hope’s population.
Though Hope has fluctuated
dangerously in the past,
Hope is a marvel of adaptation.
Hope has evolved to withstand
the harsh conditions of its
desert habitat. Hope has a
unique metabolic rate
that allows Hope to survive
on minimal food resources. Hope
primarily feeds on the algae
that grow on the shallow rock shelf.
Despite recent success,
Hope remains threatened
by climate change impacts
on the delicate desert ecosystem.
Imperiling Hope further
is the growing human
demand for water. Hope
is an indicator of the health
of the larger ecosystem.
By protecting Hope,
we protect the
entire web of life
that depends on Hope.
Oh, Denise! This pairing works so well. I find strength (and indeed, hope) throughout the poem. I had no idea there were fish in the desert. What amazing creatures to live a life in such a harsh environment. They could be harbingers of what is to come for us, too. Your last two stanzas speak volumes. Let’s hope we can protect not only it but the entire web!
Ah, Denise! So perfect! Especially that last stanza! I am amazed at how truth smacks us in the face with these word substitutions. And- btw — I got to observe pupfish last summer while on vacation near the Grand Canyon! So cool!
Denise, I read about the pupfish somewhere, too, and, as Jennifer noticed, the substitution with truth works miraculously well. So many lines made me pause and ponder. For example, these: “Hope has a
unique metabolic rate
that allows Hope to survive
on minimal food resources.”
Indeed, I search for a glimpse of hope in any unfortunate situation and know if I see it, everything is going to be ok. Thank you for writing and sharing after the day of hosting and responding all day yesterday!
Denise, I enjoyed reading your foreword note and all the research you uncovered. I have never heard about the Devil’s Hole Pupfish, but it’s incredible to think about all the life we are unaware of especially in the ocean which I almost wrote about today. You weave details about the pupfish throughout this, but I was moved by your closing stanza and especially appreciate how you used hope throughout because where will we be without it…Masterful poem!
Common Sense
https://kids.britannica.com/kids/article/endangered-species/353099
Natural stupidity
or changes in the cultural climate
can harm or destroy common sense.
Humans often cause common sense
to become endangered.
Humans pollute common sense
with social media litter,
fumes of fantasy,
and adamant ideas.
They destroy rational thought by
clearing practical pathways
and replacing them
with rigid reasoning and easy answers.
They discourage the growth
of sensible solutions.
Often the new species spreads freely
because it has no natural enemies.
Common sense already in the habitat
may not be able to compete against the newcomer.
GJSands 7/21/24
Wow, Gayle! You are bringing the truth once again. There’s something about having “Common Sense” and “Natural stupidity” sitting one atop the next at the start of this poem that is thought-provoking (glad to see Common Sense on top). My favorite lines: humans pollute common sense with social media litter and often the new species spreads freely because it has no natural enemies.” Boy, are we having difficulty competing against this newcomer.
Gayle, Common sense must rise above! This newcomer Natural stupidity has been overly nourished the past decade. “spreads freely / because it has no natural enemies” makes me do a double take. I’ve always known on a philosophical level that our republic was at risk without providing people with a good education, but that is now broadcast from every corner of society. Stupidity has an enemy, but it takes work. I like the way you adapted the article to fit the topic, like in these powerful lines:
Gayle, such wisdom and humor throughout your poem. I love those last two lines.
Motherland
After the murder of over a million,
the diaspora blended into streets,
accepted the -ification of self to survive,
yet still carried centuries of place
swallowed in an ancient language,
closed in hidden texts satchel-ed
across borders, locked in lecterns
until another war shook awake
tongues, uncovered swords,
stirred dreams to reclaim
silenced letters,
poached land,
lifted yarns,
swiped histories.
Because the world turns away
from naming the truth and countries
erase borders to absorb mountains
of identities, I swear I hear it: wounds
opening like birth, cries of diaspora
returning to Motherland because she
loves them, because she’s sure that
looms welcome young hands,
39 letters sing their stories,
tsakhoghs flower graves,
vines fortify Areni & Voskehat.
Yes, her mountain weeps for home,
for flowerers to seed peace
for weavers to thread past and present
We can walk together this path of healing when we name the Motherland.
Armenia
?v=1687800373
Sarah, I have so much to learn about the Armenian Genocide, the carpet stories, the reclaiming of identity, the culture, the bird letters that are an act of resistance. These lines
accepted the -ification of self to survive
yet still carried centuries of place
show the perseverance and persistence of resistance of a people who refuse to let their history die. Beautiful! I love seeing these letters – thanks for adding the image!
Sarah, what an incredible experience to gather threads from another culture and weave them into a narrative for others to find comfort, beauty, and knowledge in. How powerful it is to be able to take what you’ve learned and share it wide. I cannot name a favorite as there are so many good lines, but that second stanza hits hard. So beautiful.
Sarah, talk about loss. I’m so glad you wrote this today. What a way to honor the people and place that hosted you over the last couple of weeks. There is hope here for a future.
Will we ever learn from history to not repeat it? Thank you for writing this.
By the way, is tsakhogh a special kind of flower? Or?
It means flowerer,the art of making letters with flowers
Thank you. That is fascinating. I would love to see that.
Sarah, I can’t help but think there is a book here, stories that you can help tell. It would be so rich and so NEEDED to open this world of “swords” and “poached land.” So many evocative phrases, aching phrases. The phrase “looms welcome young hands” seemed like a great place to start the tale. Big stuff here! Susie
Your poems hits so close to my heart and home, Sarah! Sadly, I knew the word “genocide” as a child. It is what Soviets did to Crimean Tatars in 1944; it is what russia is doing to Ukrainians now. I knew about genocide of Armenians too. Your poem about Motherland is a tribute to a strong nation which despite all the sufferings prevails again and again. Love your final stanza, which gives me hope.
Sarah, I would love to hear about your experience in Armenia. Your poem is incredibly moving, and I was deeply touched by the line “Because the world turns away/
from naming the truth and countries?” I also loved “her mountains weep for home” and the idea that flowers could seed peace. Genocide is prevalent in too many histories, and I appreciate how you closed your poem with a concrete solution to help us heal from these atrocities. Fantastic poem! Thank you!
Jennifer, your idea inspired by Catherine Barnett’s poem is brilliant. What a way to get kids researching and thinking about words. I wonder if AI would be a positive way to do this activity. I was thinking about monarchs. There is a Journey North count coming up soon, and I am anxiously watching my milkweed. I replaced the word monarch or milkweed with Joy. Source: Xerces.org “Monarch Decline”
Monarch Joy
Joy requires a suitable habitat
with host plants for breeding
and flowering plants to provide seeds
for cultivation of Joy.
Loss of Joy is due to a dramatic increase
in herbicide that kills every chance in its path.
Harsher winters, erratic weather events change
blooming time.
Urban development threatens Joy.
More traffic disrupts the silent cycle of inner thought.
Loud rumble of pollutants affect
our health and the distribution of Joy.
Joy is in danger of extinction unless
we look intently and count Joy
as an important species.
*International MonarchMonitoring Blitz July 26-August 4
Joy requires a suitable habitat…love that.
Joy is in danger of extinction.
It’s amazing how well the structure works.
Margaret, your bridging of joy and nature, its loss and endangerment speaks to me. You have worded this beautifully throughout your poem. I truly believe in the link between these two and that we need to view joy as “an important species.” I have spent the last two summers eeking out joy in my suburban/bordering-urban new yard. It is a slow but steady process that brings me nothing but joy (and lots of sweat). I have noticed an increase in birds, butterflies, and bees as I continue, whereas my last yard reduced these numbers due to the herbicides so liberally applied throughout the neighborhood. Thank you for shariing!
Margaret, what a great metaphor for the monarch – joy! Beautiful poem. I so love this line, which reminds me of The Lorax, “Joy is in danger of extinction unless” I just love the placement of unless ending that line.
OK, that was SO MUCH FUN! This kind of poetry is the closest I’ll ever come to being a sculptor. I love taking away words to show true or new meaning. And, your poem that highlights kindness…perfect. I love the idea of a Kindness Recovery Project.
My goodness, that struck home. I hope I get a chance to use this prompt with students soon!
I went to JSTOR which is one of the databases in my local public library for a scholarly article and thought this title was interesting: The Ethics of Reviving Long Extinct…
Here’s the draft that I sculpted out of that:
A pathway for Reviving Patience
An analysis of de-extinction
of patience holds
there are several arguments
against de-extinction:
it is unnatural;
could cause suffering;
and it is hubristic.
There are ethically acceptable
reasons in favor
of reviving patience
However, theses do not lead
to patience conservation
or prevent patience extinction
These causes could be detrimental
to patience conservation efforts.
Humanity does’nt have an obligation
to pursue de-extinction.
Reviving patience does’nt address
any urgent problem.
Therefore, legitimate ecological,
political, legal, or human health concerns
associated with a de-extinction
(and reintroduction)
must be thoroughly addressed
for it to be ethically acceptable.
Linda, I love the idea of poet as sculptor as much as your poem! We are word sculptors, indeed. This makes me reconsider how I feel about patience as I determine how it might cause suffering. I wonder about for whom and how? We have certainly lost our capacity for patience, along with so much of our humanness.
yeah…that totally doesn’t make sense–I was sticking too close to the words. Need to revise that whole idea!
Linda, ooh – – thinking about de-extinction as hubristic gets my mind thinking in new ways. Your topic of patience is so needed these days. A trip to the grocery store reminds me every time about how I need it!
Oh, Linda (and us) as sculptors this morning. What a great image. I love what you have sculpted. Your poem gave my mind some exercise this morning. I was especially struck with this thought:
I lost my uncle this past week and wrote this tribute to him. So thank you, Jennifer -for a fitting prompt this morning. I enjoy all of the writings and talent displayed on Ethical ELA. 💪💯
Barefoot Freedom
Dogwoods fade,
Immersing July,
Backdrop…
Jaded with hazel skies.
As he walks barefoot
over flint,
Shirtless,
bearded,
with intent.
His purpose to be,
Unchained,
As a wren’s
melody.
And he is as free as July,
With his,
Cherokee piercing eyes.
Stout, ripped, and toned,
Searching
for his peace,
-alone.
Each step gathers earthly rights,
As his spirit spins round’
The Buck moon’s light.
Wild,
his heart beats,
With nature….
he is complete.
Misunderstood,
by some,
Envious of
his freedom.
Mother knows him well,
A rebel,
Spurned from folktales.
Awake, and do,
Whatever the season-
tells him to.
Hunt the whitetail,
At the ol’ home place,
Or listen to his hounds howl,
On a rabbit race.
Kick back on the branch and fish,
Stoke a campfire,
inhale a token wish.
Or relax and smoke,
While
Easedropping,
On a summertime soak.
With coffee-hot
and
ice cream-cold,
No plans,
as the days unfold.
On a screened- in porch,
a delightful treat,
Dusty floors,
Bless bare feet.
Around the acres,
more than anyone,
Caressing the calls
Of coyote freedom.
And his prints are embedded,
On familiar trails
he treaded.
Honeysuckle spirals along his creek,
Spirit of the oaks,
Is what he seeked.
Only to be….
Wisping…
-As the Willow tree.
And you can hear him
in silent pines,
And see him silhouetted,
Through Wisteria vines.
Feel him in November’s chill,
He is the sound of a redtail shrill.
Sense him in summer’s heat,
Match his pace with bare feet.
He is free as July,
Wild as the bobcat…
with Cherokee eyes.
And when his ash is scattered around,
Woods will quiet,
to the sound,
Of where his spirit
can be found,
Embracing Barefoot freedom,
-still walking around.
With cooling winds to rejoice,
Whistling magnolias, rustling his voice.
Alas, he is with what he loved,
Peace, rested,
a spiritual dove.
The earth embraced him,
And he became earth,
July covered him,
And
Granted his rebirth.
— Boxer
blob:https://www.ethicalela.com/ef1b2ebb-cf0d-4762-8a62-55022a15ebbf
Clayton, I am so sorry for your loss. Your connection to him and his significance to you is evident throughout your poem. You have threaded an earthiness and vibrancy in him, evident in these words,
Wild,
his heart beats,
With nature….
he is complete.
I want to reread this again and again to savor lines like this, “The earth embraced him, and he became earth, July covered him.” What a beautiful tribute.
I’m so sorry about your loss of your uncle. Once again, the spirits of the red clay Georgia country land are hard at play in untethered presence as you bring us the truths and tales from our favorite dirt road mystic! Long live the wisps!
Boxer,
This is beautiful and moving and fills me with memories of one of my uncles that I wrote poetry for to read at his funeral. What a fortunate human you are to have had this beautiful soul in your life and in the life of the woods and trails and streams that remain for you to visit. Thank you so very much for letting this audience see not just your sorrow but the beauty of the person that you pay tribute to. Bless.
Clayton, I’m. so sorry for your loss ~ what a beautiful tribute to your uncle and the circle of life ~ so many stirring images here, I don’t know where to begin…when I read as he walks barefoot over flint, I knew I myself was walking into something extraordinary. I love the marriage of his spirit with all that is living. Simply beautiful.
Boxer, this just slayed me. Had me in tears with your beautiful memories and imagery. I could feel the wildness and the steadiness simultaneously at work in him; loved the bit about Mother knowing him well and approving. It’s just a beautiful, heartfelt tribute.
Jennifer, thank you for hosting us today. That humor of the unexpected in your poem, the countable concept noun of kindness and giving it color and type, is just fun. I can see students loving this as they do research and give a creative twist. I have something that won’t get lost so I’m giving it a Nonet in high hopes today.
Get Lost
I keep showing them to the exit
but they refuse to leave, to make
themselves scarce once and for all
they’re like Velcro leeches
sacked-out partiers
who won’t get lost
they stick with
me, these
pounds
Kim, I have some extra “won’t get lost” items myself that I’d be happy to share! This made me laugh. As I started reading, there were so many items/people/things that could have been the topic of your poem and that made the last line that much better. If only the pounds would disappear like the words per line in a Nonet! Thank you for your humor today.
lol! Oh, my gosh, girl you are singing my song! Love this. A nonet is perfect…would it be great to lose just nine pounds?! This is a keeper of a poem.
A perfectly-crafted poem for those pesky pounds, Kim! Frustration couched in humor, beautifully. The flip side: losing those pounds and people worrying that you are ill because “people of your age don’t lose weight like that otherwise.” Is it a no-win situation? Lose-win???? Either way your poem’s a delight.
I have extra “pounds” thad won’t get lost as well. This spoke to me so much because my first thought went to the negative thoughts I have about myself that won’t get lost (also some pounds!) But even those thoughts carry weight.
Haha! Kim, I loved how this dwindled to the punchline. Great choice of a form! Your metaphors were too funny. XD
Kim — This was just dandy… I laughed out loud at the last word…didn’t know where you were going and what a funny surprise. And boy, do I GET it…”get lost” indeed! I hear ya! Cool nonet! Susie
Kim, I didn’t guess that “who won’t get lost” until you spelled it out. It made me smile. Those pounds are annoyingly persistent in my life too. Thank you! I love your humorous take on this prompt.
Oh, Kim, I kept wondering about your subject and I adore how you revealed this at the end. I can relate!!! “thy’re like Velcro leeches”…too funny! Still smiling:)
Screen Door
When I travel back
the past is filled with a heady scent of spring soil, rich and dark, full of life
falling apart through my young fingers
into tiny crumbles.
I saw you, but our words caught on the screen door between us.
Sticking on scratched wires and sharp edges, until it became so cluttered we couldn’t see each other.
And we had to grow comfortable with the thought of just knowing that each one of us was still there.
I should have mentioned that this was written for my father as he diagnosed wirh early onset dementia and struggling with word as he passed. ❤️
What a beautiful metaphor for the relationship with a loved one that is disappearing. Those words caught on the screen door…is a very powerful image. Bravo.
Mona, how powerful and poignant, these images of words caught on a screen door between you and your father. Went through this with my grandmother. Dementia visibly cluttered her every thought, but the love remained intact, and still does, long after her passing. My heart goes out to you on the loss of your father. Your poem is such a lovely and loving tribute to him.
Mona, the imagery of the screen door is everything in your poem – the ability to see but not quite as clearly, to allow in but keep out simultaneously, the catching that eventually becomes cluttering beyond repair. This might just be the most beautiful and sad image of dementia that I have read. I am very sorry for your loss.
Thank you so much! I appreciate your feedback.
Mona, this is riveting poetry at its best, the moments so fleeting that are stuck in doors, portals between here and there, and you capture the condition of dementia so succinctly with the sharp edges. Just wow!
The use of “screen door” to describe dementia is so apt. My mother has Alzheimer’s and her words start but never finish a complete thought. It’s more like the door is slammed in her face and I’m caught holding the knob. So sorry for your loss.
Wow Mona ~ everything about this poem ~ the rich soil full of life falling into tiny crumbles…the screen door… the scratched wires and sharp edges creates such a vivid, moving and haunting metaphor. Simply beautiful.
Jennifer: You are a wellspring of inspiration, as always. What you can do with a form, an idea…your poem sings, unfurls its iridescent wings, and soars. The clarity and truth of it – our extinction due to loss of kindness – pains my heart. Yet there’s beauty and hope in the attempts to nurture and preserve this vital, fragile thing. And oh – is Barnett’s poem not utterly glorious??
You have hooked me with this invitation today. Loss weighs heavy on my mind and spirit of late. There’s a new layer to it, recently. I am grappling with how to write, how much to write, of it – my poem probably sounds like I’m coming from a very dark place but it’s really part of the healing.
Thank you 🙂
Unnatural Disaster
Determining the start of mother can be tricky.
Unlike many natural hazards that bring about sudden and dramatic results
—such as earthquakes, tornadoes, and hurricanes—
the onset of mother can be gradual and subtle.
It can take weeks, months, or even years for the full effects to become apparent [“a parent”].
The end of mother can also be difficult to determine.
While a single [line in the sand] will provide short-term relief from mother, it might take weeks or months before [equilibrium] levels return to normal.
The start and end of mother are often only clear in hindsight.
*******
Lines borrowed from “Understanding Drought,” nationalgeographic.org, April 3, 2024.
Oohweee, Fran! Your poem hangs right up there with Barnett’s! Subbing mother in for drought emphasizes the drain we feel not only with the role but also with the ebb and flow of the letting go and nurturing (which seems to follow the course of water and lack of so well). The wordplay here is evocative. We cling to the hope for continual waterhood despite the change in climate. This is masterful!
Fran, from the wordplays and double meanings to the stabbing pain of truth in the clarity of mothers being only peripheral, your poem brings such deep thought about all the ways we know mothers. Some biological, some adoptive, some figures, some present and some absent, some invested, some aloof. Your intentional and thoughtful way of showing us that motherhood is often a very different experience is powerfully penned. I love that first line. It really gets me thinking from the start and the last line nails the force. I like what you chose today!
Oh, that’s fanTAStic. There is truth there that is undeniable. What a wonderful way to describe the natural emergence of being a mother and the complex relationship with a mother. Wonderful. I’m loving this prompt.
and the title…it’s funny and true and a perfect riddle.
I’m fascinated by the interpretations! I was once told that a poet shouldn’t explain her poem. I will just say that motherhood wasn’t in my mind here. Daughterhood was.
Watching my daughters be mothers makes the truth of this poem resonate with me. I try to remember how hard that time was, but I seemed to have blocked out most of it. There is much redemption in seeing my girls become successful mothers. “The end of mother” actually never happens.
Fran. You had me from the first line!
We’re going to be empty nesters in September. So any “mothering” poem will pierce me like an arrow right now.
I loved reading and re-reading this. Every rereading made me rethink and reconsider what you’d said in it.
Genius choice of the word “mother.” Just loved this.
Unplugged curiosity
goes by many names,
depending on where you live.
Forget what the calendar officially says.
For many young Americans,
an otherworldly glow
signals the start of summer
But across the country,
many harbingers of exploration
may be blinking out of existence.
What was once a series of tales
from old-timers about the decline
of curiosity from the days of their youth
is coalescing into an observable truth:
Nearly 1 in 3 moments of curiosity in kids
in the United States and Canada
may be threatened with extinction,
due to digital devices
I used an article about fireflies in the WashPost from 2023, and refashioned part of it about what seems to me a new trend — maybe I am overstating things or maybe some pessimistic vibe still lingers from the school year — but I noticed a sharp decline in my students being curious about the larger world. I blame much of this on the phones in their lives, the reduction of attention to a single screen. I hope I am wrong. I hope last year was a blip. (I know I sound grumpy, and want to say, I love technology! Just not phones with social media in young hands)
Kevin
No overstating here, Kevin. Just truth. Though I hope along with you that last year was a blip. It took much longer for students to rediscover their curiosity (but once they did, oh, how incredible it was). Fireflies are the perfect vehicle for ushering in your observation. These lines work so well: an otherworldly glow signaling the start of summer, blinking out of existence. I mourn the loss of fireflies (along with the loss of curiosity).
We live in the Age of Distraction…I don’t think you sound grumpy, Kevin. I sense the frustration and even tinges of mourning. I have felt it myself. This is magnificently rendered – so many lines pierce me with painful truths, like ‘many harbingers of exploration/
may be blinking out of existence.” Without curiosity, what do we have? Apathy? Despair? For the first time, I see it as an extension of hope.
Kevin, you’re not sounding grumpy. Sometimes the truth needs to be called out. Devices are giving us tunnel vision,
and technology is outsourcing and ending human creativity. I live in the land of fireflies (real ones) and I am sure to send prayers of gratitude when I see them. It’s a lot like kids without phones: these sightings are rare and appreciated, far more awe-striking than they should be.
The truth of these poems is really hitting me. It’s amazing how the structure of an article about a loss fits intangible ideas. I love the “Nearly 1 in 3 moments” line. I want to use that line in a poem too.
Kevin, the phenomenon is scary. I believe the researchers who say that kids’ brains are being rewired with devices. It’s scary and education is contributing to this with all the online gaming and computer time in classrooms. I worry we won’t know the true effect until it is too late to come back from it.
Kevin, this was great. And spot-on. Here in NY, Governor Kathy Hochul is talking about banning phones from schools. It can’t happen soon enough for me, Beautiful poem — love the structure of the stanzas.
Oh gosh, Kevin — Way too true! And pretty darned scary. So much of the world passes through those devices, but even more of the world buzzes right past the noses of those noses glued to devices. We become the frogs in the boiling pot who don’t even realize they’re been cooked/poached into a bland and tasteless mess. Yikes! Susie
“Nearly 1 in 3 moments of curiosity in kids / in the United States and Canada / may be threatened with extinction, / due to digital devices.” TRUTH! Thanks for crafting this, Kevin!