Let’s write together.
Larin lives in Ringling, Oklahoma, a small town in southern Oklahoma. She teaches Spanish I and II and Honors English I to high school students at a nearby rural high school. She enjoys planning her lessons (first-year teacher joys!), spending time with her family and friends, reading, traveling, and listening to music.
Inspiration
One music artist who my students (well, many of them) love is Morgan Wallen, a popular country musician from Tennessee. While listening to the local radio station a few weeks ago, I heard his song “I Thought You Should Know,” where he updates his mother about what she should know about his life. They are mostly positive updates, and I interpret it as a triumphant song as Wallen cites his presence on the radio and relates that his mother’s prayers “must’ve finally made their way on through.”
I like the premise of this song. The idea of contacting someone and telling them what you think they should know–about you, your life, their influence, whatever may come to mind–opens many avenues of possibility in my head. So, I thought this would be a cathartic release for a poem. I’m sure many of us have someone we would like to update about our life. These updates could be triumphant, challenging, growth-inducing…take this where you want!
Process
Think of someone you would like to update about your life. Write this poem to them. Consider incorporating words about how they have influenced you.
Include the line “I thought you should know.”
This can be free verse, rhyming, an acrostic poem…see where the words take you today!
Example Poem
To my grandmother
I thought you should know
That sometimes I think of
Who I want to be,
And she looks a lot like
You.
I thought you should know
That your joyful smile
Lit many rooms and hearts
And your thoughtful words
Touched my mind every time.
I thought you should know
That I graduated
Got my dream job
And get to teach so
Many unique kids.
I thought you should know
That I can’t wait
To catch up someday.
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.
A Thought You Should Know
A quiet moment, a thoughtful sigh,
A wish to share, a reason why.
Know that you’re loved, a precious sight,
A beacon of hope, a guiding light.
When shadows creep and doubts arise,
Remember the warmth of caring eyes.
You’re stronger than storms, braver than fear,
A spirit resilient, year after year.
So let your heart soar, your spirit mend,
A faithful friend, a journey’s end.
May joy surround you, wherever you go,
A thought you should know, forever aglow.
Larin,
Thank you for today’s prompt. I read it knowing just what I wished to write about. Here goes!
I thought you should know
I thought you should know that I’ve turned out
a lot more like you than I hate to admit.
I’ve got two brand new hips that make me stronger
and allow me to enjoy everything I am able to do.
I loved my PTs and I love my 2 new and improved
hips.
I thought you should know I worry about things
I never would have thought I would.
I felt your fear of heights as I walked down a ramp
into the Grand Canyon. While I saw all sorts of others
walking along this wide ramp into the canyon, my head
could not let go of the illogical fear. The knot in my stomach,
the tightening in my chest. Where did I find that anxiety?
I thought you should know that Collins is a lot like you.
Our kitchen looks a lot like yours when Collins is done cooking.
More dishes used than one couldimagine cooking for two.
Counter surfaces muddied with sauces and spills.
And I’d rather clean it myself than reach for a cabinet
door handle and come away with sticky fingers.
I thought you should know that Collins is a lot like you in more ways
than in the kitchen. Recently when he rationalized becoming a member
of the National BotanicalGarden, ’cause if we go three or four times
our membership is paid, and we get a 25% discount in the gift shop.
Mom, this reminded me of you when the girls and I joined you in New York.
It was looking unlikely that we’d get into MOMA and see the exhibit
which drew us there. So you became a member at MOMA.
We entered the museum in a shorter line for members. There was no entry fee
for the girls and me. We saw what we came for, and you were intrigued
by the work of Tim Burton. Who would have thunk?
I thought you should know that Laura is the mother of two little boys.
The cutest two boys, and I know you’d think the same, and enjoy seeing
them, being with them, and watching Laura grow into a Mother.
Most of all I think you should know I think of you everyday and for what
I don’t share of yours, know I can recognize the world as my mom would.
Larin,
I loved your sweet and sensitive poem to your grandmother! Thanks so much for this prompt today.
To Sprout
I thought you should know
that we miss your cold nose.
That we still have your toys
and miss all your noise.
That we miss your fake sneezes,
your eyes filled with pleading.
Our walks down the street
and your eagerness to greet
any flower we passed –
your shimmies in the grass.
That it took months to cope
Are we over you? Nope.
We have a new friend
To help our hearts mend
But we’ll never forget,
You: Our first canine pet.
Wendy, Sprout was a lucky pup. Your poem is precious with its fun rhymes. I feel like we get to know Sprout through sweet details like: “That we miss your fake sneezes / your eyes filled with pleading.”
Wendy,
Sorry about losing Sprout. It’s hard when pets pass, they bring such joy. These are such sweet remembrances.
Wendy,
Sounds like you have many wonderful memories of Sprout. I’m sorry for your loss but happy to hear a new pet is taking away the sadness.
Wendy, I love this touching tribute to Sprout! Our late cocker spaniel also loved “fake sneezes” and “shimmies in the grass.” And are we “over” him, yet? “Nope.” I’m so glad you “have a new friend / To help [your] hearts mend”!
Hello Wendy, your poem is a touching tribute to your beloved pet, Sprout. The vivid imagery and heartfelt language convey a deep sense of loss and longing. The contrast between the playful memories of Sprout and the somber reality of their absence is particularly poignant
Larin, thank you for your prompt today. Your gorgeous poem’s ending really pulls on my heartstrings.
Sonshine
I thought you should know
I hear your voice singing
“Waiting for the World to Change”
“Drift Away”
“Jump in the Line”
I thought you should know
I search for eagle feathers
sun streaks on cloudy days
solace inside evergreen cathedrals
holding your heart close to mine
I thought you should know
I often see your face
along crowded streets, distant highways,
I smile and wave
then stop and remember
Barb Edler
24 September 2024
Oh, Barb. This is so tender and heartfelt. I’m sure so many of us can relate to these feelings of loss which you’ve expressed so beautifully. Your last line is so understated, yet it says so much. Hugs.
Barb, I sense the speaker’s longing for someone special in your poem. I love beautiful imagery in the second stanza and keep thinking about “solace inside evergreen cathedrals.” I always savor words in your poems. Thank you!
Barb,
This is a beautiful poem. I was especially struck by the vividness of your memories”I search for eagle feathers”
I am so sorry for your loss.
Oh, Barb, I’m weeping for your Sonshine. The three stanzas so powerful with the repetition of “I thought you should know” Beautiful.
Barb,
That last stanza is the one that really gets me. That’s just it, isn’t it? Remembering a loved one and seeing them in all the people and places that you encounter.
The imagery in the 2nd stanza is absolutely beautiful too.
Hello Barb, your poem is a beautiful and evocative expression of love and loss. The imagery of the singer’s voice, the natural world, and the fleeting glimpses of the loved one’s face creates a powerful and emotional impact.
Larin,
Thank you for your prompt and your beautiful poem. Love these lines: That your joyful smile/Lit many rooms and hearts — what beautiful memories you have of your grandmother.
I decided to write my poem to my youngest daughter who is a senior in high school this year. I used a line from Chrisina Aquiler’s “Beautiful” for a Golden Shovel.
Dear Daughter, I Thought You Should Know
I couldn’t be prouder of You.
the intelligent & vibrant young woman you are
empathy and kindness blossoms beautiful
tenacity and courage stay true to you in
difficult situations, growing into confidence in every
way, and even though the stress overwhelms, keep taking those single
steps, deep breaths and keep moving in your own special way.
Tammi, I love your encouraging words in this gorgeous golden shovel poem. Love the emphasis on taking single steps and deep breaths. Your daughter must be extra special and it’s easy to see that you are proud of the beautiful person she is. Such a lovely tribute!
What a wonderful message to your daughter, Tammi!
Tammi, what a lovely message to your daughter. “You are beautiful in every single way.” It sounds like a message you have helped her believe this! Love the word blossoms.
Tammi, this is a beautiful message to your daughter. The golden shovel line is something that every kid needs to hear, and I love your encouragement and guidance in these lines.
Hello Tammi, your poem is a beautiful celebration of a young woman’s strength and resilience. The imagery of ’empathy and kindness blossoming’ is particularly poignant, highlighting her compassionate nature. The acknowledgment of the challenges she faces and her unwavering determination to overcome them is inspiring.
Word to My Mother
By Mo Daley 9/4/24
I thought you should know
the world didn’t stop spinning when you left us,
even though I wanted it to.
But you live on in Mike’s nimble wit,
the easily visible heart on Sean’s sleeve,
and Packy’s quiet thoughtfulness.
They are mine,
and they are yours.
You and I have done something wonderful.
“You and I have done something wonderful” Oh, Mo–you have–in your children and in this poem.
Oh, Mo, there are some beautiful poems today about these generational connections. Love to see your Mom in your three sons, and that last stanza is beautiful.
Mo,
This is a beautiful poem and I can totally relate. I lost my mother five years ago, and I am always thinking about what she would think of her grandchildren and wishing she could see them now.
I love that last stanza: “They are mine/and they are yours./You and I have done something wonderful.” Yes! Our mothers are alive in each of us and in our children!
Mo, your poem is full of emotion. I love how you show your children’s unique characteristics. The opening stanza is striking and has the reader stopping to read carefully. Your softer tone at the end provides an interesting contrast. Powerful poem!
I love this! Yes, the genetics pass on the characteristics of the parents. Your last line is so thankful and encouraging for our future.
That culminating line is so powerful.
Mo, that last stanza is everything!
Mo, I love your words to your mother. That “the world did not stop spinning” though so often at moments like that it’s hard to believe it’s still spinning. The second stanza shares the details of where you see her. Such are the ways we remain eternal to us.
Thank you so much for this, Mo. It’s just so gorgeous and simple and achingly poignant. ♥️
Whew, Larin! Your wonderful prompt and your heartfelt words for your grandmother really sent me in an unexpected direction! I guess I needed that, because the poem wrote itself tonight…
I Thought You Should Know
I thought you should know
that I wish we could have done
something different for you
so that you could have valued yourself.
You should know
that I understand why having two sisters
who achieved so much made it hard for you.
You had to find friends
who could make you feel “better-than”.
It was easier to push away those
who might have pulled you up.
You knew it would never work.
Instead, you chose to join
the people who made it easy
to feel superior
to someone, anyone.
You were never able
to climb back out of that hole
addiction dug for you
and for those friends you found.
Neither were they, in the end.
So many are dead
But I thought you should know that
I remember
that red-headed boy who
kept a bowl of water in his room for the cat
and wrote beautiful angry poetry.
I remember wanting you to
just
be happy.
I knew you couldn’t.
And I thought you should know,
my skinny red-headed son
that I worry about you as much now
as I did then,
And I thought you should know
that it still hurts
to watch you suffer.
Because I still love you,
my boy, my son.
GJSands
9-24-25
Oh, Gayle, this is so heart-wrenching. When you wrote,
I felt the immensity of that hole. So many young adults have been caught in this vicious scourge of addiction; I know this pain is excruciating. The image of him as a little boy, with a bowl of water for the cat, brought tears to my eyes. There is such tenderness in your words, such tenderness in your boy. Sending you love.
Oh, Gayle, that turn in the poem toward “But I thought you should know” was a relief for me as a reader, I exhaled with “red-headed boy” and smiled at “angry poetry” and appreciated you showing us this scene with the cat. And the last line, “my boy, my son” strike me as at once the same and entirely different in the space of that comma. I am sitting with it.
Hugs,
Sarah
Wow, Gayle. Ths is really something. My brother was my red headed boy- I feel so much when I read about yours. Thanks for sharing this poem. all the best!
Oh, Gayle, I can see this poem that came so easily today, the poem that “wrote itself tonight.” You have been writing it for so long with that sweet “red-headed boy”. I’m sitting with you tonight and holding this poem, you, and your son in my heart.
Oh Gayle,
Your poem brough tears to my eyes. This is so heartbreaking, and those last lines “Because I still love you/my boy/my son.” Love can hurt so much! Prayers for you and your boy.
Gayle, your honest direct voice is full of love and is deeply moving. I completely understand the frustration, pain, love and worry that occurs due to a son’s addiction, and my heart goes out to you. Hugs!
Gayle,
I know the pain all too well. My son was in that same hole for a very long time. He’s now 1,500 days sober and I don’t take one day for granted. I pray that your darling finds a light to get out of the darkness. And I hope you have all the support possible. It’s just so unfair and awful to watch our babies suffer.
Thank you for sharing something so deeply personal.
Hugs🩵
Oh, Gayle…this had to have been so hard to write, yet such a relief. Addiction’s grip is so real and so tight. Know of the love and support you have from all of us.
Thank you, Larin! You wrote such a dear ode to your grandmother. I’m a grandmother and I misted up when I read your tender opening,
salty slivers
waiting on takeout and I’m taking in
the guy at the counter
the chiseled profile
the high strong forehead
it could have been you
I wonder if you look back
I wonder if you know
how many years it has been
how young we were
the joy and the temper
the play and the fear
the tender and the stings
I wonder if you look back
I wonder if you know
it was our Friday takeout
that broke me
when I told you I didn’t like anchovies
even so, you insisted on pizza
with those salty slivers
how many times did I
choke it down
before I tasted the control?
I wonder if you look back
I wonder if you know
did you find someone
to love
who let you mold them so?
or did you begin
to love with trust?
breathing, caring, nurturing
unconditionally
I wonder if you look back
I wonder if you know
Maureen–what a powerful poem!
“did you find someone
to love
who let you mold them so?”
And the anchovies–how wise you were–“before I tasted the control?”
Wow.
Maureen, I do hope the speaker/you were able to end that toxic relationship before it ruined lives. I aldo hope that “you” did “look back” and “knew” what was wrong. So much wisdom in this poem. Thank you!
woah. This has some power in it. Such a little thing the anchovies until they aren’t. It says so much about the power in a relationship and what was unhealthy. I’m so glad you can write about it from this side of time.
How many times did I choke it down before I tasted the control!
Maureen, that line knocked. me. out. Wow. And that, I think from the speaker’s tone, that you/the speaker did not let herself be molded. And I wonder how you learned such self-knowing. And I wonder how we learn and share that lesson with other women.
Peace,
Sarah
Tasting the control- holy crap! What a line!
Wow, Maureen, I love how you left him, but you still wonder if he got over the temper, fear and stings…
Such a rich poem, and your wondering “did you begin to love with trust” So beautiful and generous.
Maureen, oh wow, I love how you capture the behavior of one who would rather control than nurture. Your generous heart and compassion rings through in your final lines. Deeply moving poem!
I love your poem about your speaking up. Finally. “how many times did I
choke it down before I tasted the control?” I’m happy for you that you took control. A time of growth.
Hi again,
Larin, I’m so grateful I composed my thoughts on audio as I was driving to work. I needed to get this out verbally and on paper. Unfortunately, I won’t ever give it to him. He is not worthy.
For my Stepfather
I thought you should know
I have fallen out of love
And I’m steeping in disappointment
Not in my mate or my career
But in you, as my stepfather
I thought you should know
I always saw the two of us as buddies
When Mommy got mad at you
I came to your rescue
When Pam was so sick and tired of you
I never understood her perspective
I thought you should know
The day you lost our family home
I had no forgiveness for you
But we were like buddies
I had to show you a little grace
I forgave you, but I couldn’t forget
I thought you should know
Now that Pam and I have moved on
We realize we are not “your girls” anymore
I am not your buddy
You are not mine
And I owe Mommy an apology
For being on your side of every conflict
I thought you should know
I talk to her in heaven regularly
More than I talk to you on earth
I bet you didn’t know
She is still watching you
And I’m forever on her side
© Stacey L. Joy, 9/24/24
There is a lot of pain in these lines, Stacey – and honest release. Bravo! There is sad beauty in this juxtaposition –
Yes, I’m relieved. Thank you.☺️
Oh, Stacey. It hurts to read this–so much loss, so many regrets. My poem, too, was about things I cannot go back and change. This poem is beautiful in its honesty and its strength.
I’m so sorry that you or anyone must heal from this kind of disappointment…but what’s beautiful in your lines is how much we can all understand this kind of disappointment. Your specifics aren’t the readers but the reader, me, has everything needed to decode and understand.
Stacey,
I am wondering for you and all of us today how it is feeling to write these poems. I am reading this poem and with every line feeling some granite being chiseled off my shoulders a freeing in each “I thought you should know.” And “I talk to her in heaven regularly/ore than I talk to you on earth” is such the way that I have come to know you and your dear Mommy in the poetic scenes you’ve shared here. That she gets time with your and he does not is you “forever on her side.” That forever has layers of meaning.
So powerful and felt,
Sarah
Stacey,
What an honest, heartfelt poem. I’m glad you were able to compose it on audio in the car. I pray releasing it into the world, as we are here to bear witness, is healing for you, as we discussed on Sunday. Thank you for sharing it. Your sweet “Mommy” is so powerful in this poem, and that last stanza says everything about a person’s true legacy. I’m holding you today.
Stacey, I concur with those who have expressed gladness and sadness. Gladness that you are able to use poetry to express the sorrow of this relationship and sadness there is such sorrow. But, we know that we can move on weightless once we admit and forgive. It sounds like you’re getting there. Keep up whatever writing will relieve you. Okay? And, as others have said, “You’re in our prayers”.
Oh, Stacey, I “hear” you. This had to get out, even if he never reads it. The last stanza places all the dots and crosses all the “t”s.
Stacey, I love your powerful voice and how you show why you no longer speak to your stepfather. Your closing lines are incredibly moving! Amazing poem! Thank you!
Thank you Barb,
What’s so hard is we call for holidays and birthdays but he’s so full of crap that when he spews the mushy “I miss my girls” nonsense, I want to vomit. He never asks about my great niece (his only granddaughter) and could care less about our lives now. Sickening.
Oh, Stacey.
How liberating to put all of this down. It’s never too late to adjust what side we’re on.
Stacey, I love how your poem shows your change towards your stepfather. Your use of repetition nicely connects the past to the now realized. You stand solid.”I talk to her in heaven regularly More than I talk to you on earth “
Thank you for hosting today, Larin! Keep this first-year teaching optimism and excitement—it helps in such a demanding job. I like the prompt and your poem, which tells me so much about your grandmother and you. Love these lines: “That your joyful smile / Lit many rooms and hearts.”
Because I was teaching today, I brought your prompt straight into my methods class. I told them about Morgan Wallen’s song, and posted the following prompt:
Let’s take this idea and use it as teachers to learn more about our students.
In a 4-6 line poetic stanza or two, tell me what I should know about you.
You may use a rhymed pattern, a free or blank verse—whatever works for you.
You may ignore my prompt and write about something else what bothers you today.
We will share the poems in 10 minutes.
I began with examples from me, followed by my students’ quick writes. Sorry, for this being too long, just wanted to show what we accomplished and how much we learned about each other in 10 minutes:
I Thought You Should Know
(a collective poem with my students/teacher candidates)
(from Leilya)
I thought you should know
I get agitated and snappy
When I am hungry,
So before any hard conversation,
Offer me something to eat.
I thought you should know
I would quietly walk away
From harsh confrontation,
But you will notice
Hidden hurt in my eyes.
I thought you should know
I rarely say “no”
Because helping out is my religion,
But if I do,
I mean it without revision.
(from Mallory)
I thought you should know
Whoever you are or wherever you go
You can always come home to me
Whatever you choose to be
My baby you will always be
(from Gracie)
I think you should know that
I am a worrier of the worst kind.
I will absolutely lose my mind.
I will cry to give myself some peace of mind, please don’t pry.
I cannot learn without my sight.
My eyes are the way into my mind.
(from Zoe A.)
I thought you should know, I’m Zoe A.
I come to school every single day
I walk the halls with big dreams by my side
In hopes that you will be my guide
I try my best, and when things are tough,
I don’t give up, even when it’s rough.
I am eager to catch new knowledge that comes my way
And it is always fun to have some play
I thought you should know, I’m Zoe A.
With open heart and a bright new day,
I’m ready to shine in every way,
For this is my journey, and here I’ll stay.
(from James)
I thought you should know,
that I feel stuck on a fence.
with silver tines impaling my belt-loops–
eight feet of chicken-wire limbo;
rusty, its years long beyond mine,
Impassable, but see-through.
I can feel the future,
it’s soft green grass or,
was it cold, dry and caked dirt–
lying on the other side.
But my feet barely dangle
past the fields I’ve already crossed
(from Clarisse)
I thought you should know
That I like to share thoughts and ideas
When I feel I am able to relate
My experiences
I thought you should know
That I feel seen and recognized
When you appreciate and listen
To my seemingly random thoughts
(from Sierra)
I thought you should know
I am overthinker,
Easy goer,
As sensitive as they come,
Currently questioning life career—
Guidance is much needed.
(from Taylor)
I thought you should know
Life has been treating me so well
Residency has been everything—
I have dreamed of and more.
My confidence has been growing day by day,
So has my love for teaching.
I really feel like I am where I belong.
(from Mackenzie)
I thought you should know
That I am an education major with a fear of public speaking
I plan everything to a t
When things don’t go according to plan, I begin freaking,
And that’s just a little about me.
I thought you should know
Though I have fears,
I am excited to start teaching!
(from Larry)
I thought you should know
That I know I have room to grow
My mind don’t always go with the flow
It’s like snow.
I thought you should know
That I try to find the connections
In order to grow,
But I tend to fall to reflection.
(from Amy)
I thought you should know
I’m a woman and a wife,
But right now I’m carrying life
So I’m mostly a blimp
Trying to take care of my other imp
While keeping house a home.
(from Emily)
I thought you should know,
I was reading on a breeze,
Escaping to the seas.
Worries melt away on my journey,
As I discover that I am worthy.
I am at peace.
As I am God’s child,
He helps me walk miles.
In his love and embrace,
I can finish the race.
The world is his lovely creation.
Nature lets u escape to His world.
(from Jared)
I thought you should now
My life has been moving
From places that high and low
Today, I am free to make decisions
No burdens or regrets
Colliding with new opinions
I just started living
Life is slow and settling.
What a wonderful prompt to share with your students/teachers – such insight into how everyone ‘ticks’, in such a brief prompt. I am truly impressed.
leilya
These are all so wonderful. Thank you for sharing them with us.
But the one by James–wowsa!!
“I feel stuck on a fence.
with silver tines impaling my belt-loops–
eight feet of chicken-wire limbo;
rusty, its years long beyond mine,
Impassable, but see-through.”
Some powerful writing!!!!
“I mean it without revision” is one of the most beautifully stated lines. Yes, ma’am and amen.
Leilya and her students/teacher candidates,
I so loved reading every word of these. I appreciated the metaphors, the honesty, the rhymes (some of them sound like rap/spoken verse poems). So beautiful. Thank you for sharing today, and for giving Leilya permission to post them here. And Leilya, I have to agree with Linda about that line about meaning your no without revision. Amazing!
How affirming, Leilya, for us to see that another of the many prompts shared here in OPEN WRITE can be utilized immediately. And how affirming it is to see that you’ve already nurtured a classroom setting in which students feel confident writing such personal poems in your class. Thanks for both affirmations.
Thank you, Anna! I keep telling them they need to know their students to be effective, so I “walk the talk “
What a fantastic way to celebrate your students voices and to know them better. Fantastic teaching idea!
Leilya, thank you for this: for sharing it with your students and for sharing the results with us! This is such a wonderful way to build community!
Larin,
After reading your sweet poem, I was definitely pulled to write mine to a grandparent; three of the four were gone before I was born. But, then I looked in the other direction.
Thought You Should Know
Thought you should know
that there were bits of you
that were formed inside of me
when your mom, your dad
was cocooned
in me . . .
an Ahlbrand nesting do . . .
you inside them inside me.
Thought you should know
that I carried your mom, your dad
for nine months
loving them more than I thought possible
as they blossomed out my belly
and made my feet ache
and breasts balloon.
At the time,
I didn’t think about you
being in there, too.
But you were . . .
the seeds of love for you
planted but not yet growing.
Thought you should know
that giving birth to your mom, your dad
was the most amazing experience of my life.
The pain was intense but
pushing and breathing
and having him, having her
slip out into the world
and start to cry . . .
there are no words.
Thought you should know
that within years of being a young mom,
I already looked forward to you.
I just knew that being the grandma
(the Gram, the Granny, the Nanny, the Ma . . .
whatever you end up calling me)
was a role I yearned for.
I didn’t want to skip over being a mom,
but I wanted the less stressful, more
love-you-for-who-you-are feel
of grandparenting,
the make-cookies-and-make-a-mess-and-send-you-home
relationship.
Thought you should know
that I have always feared I would be gone
before you got here.
If I am,
know–KNOW–
that I am with you . . .
in your DNA,
in your smile,
in your heart.
In the vapor and veil
between you and me,
I can see you, love you,
be your champion
from afar.
I am broken-hearted to not
be holding you,
not be pushing you in a stroller
down to the park
and taking in all of the wonders
that your mom, your dad
might just be too busy to notice.
Thought you should know
that I pray that I know you
yet I know
I already do.
~Susan Ahlbrand
24 September 2024
Susan, this poem hits home for me today as I contemplate my mother’s pending death. Her mother, my grandmother, died 3 months before I was born. Your poem helps me to see how she must have felt knowing she would not meet me or hold me, but she is in me always. Thanks for this beautiful sentiment.
Susan, what a poem for your grandchildren! I, too, am a Grandma/babushka, and can’t imagine how would it be without knowing my grandkids, holding them, and just loving them. Love the first stanza, and the word “cocooned” sounds so cozy to me. Thank you for sharing! ❤️
Oh my, this is so moving. So clever to look to the future! I adore the nesting image, “you inside them inside me.”
Susan–this truth:
“I didn’t want to skip over being a mom,/but I wanted the less stressful, more /love-you-for-who-you-are feel/of grandparenting,” resonated with me!
This wishful, heart-filled poem should be put somewhere for those future grandchildren to read. I came late to grandparenting, and I felt much the same.
BEautiful.
Wow. So much love for people…they are so lucky. If everyone had an ancestor like this the world would be such a better place.
Susan, what lovely thoughts about your future grandchildren. I hope you are collecting a book of poetry for your children, and now for your future grandchildren. This is so beautiful. I love that you address the sad possibility that you might miss out on knowing some of the grandchildren, but that sweet last stanza is spot on.
I thought you should know
I measure your reactions with every step I take
Or I did
But lately I’ve been trying to walk my own path
I learned it from you
The pulling at the story
To make things fit just so
I see so much that others don’t
Joy and light and connection
The invisible string
But sometimes it leads me nowhere
And I’m so convinced I see something that I run down that hill so fast that I fall
It gives me scrapes and bruises
More than my share
But I’m not letting go of that light,
So I’ll stand up again
Brush off the dust
And I thought you should know that, too, I learned that from you
*And I thought you should know that that, too, I learned that from you
I can’t figure out how to edit the poem
RIP 😭
I really loved this long line – “ I’m so convinced I see something that I run down that hill so fast that I fall’.
Helen, this line “I measure your reactions with every step I take” is quite a familiar one for me as I always wanted to be like my mother, but then I also wanted “to walk my own path,” so this is a dilemma at first. As we grow older we learn how to balance and we appreciate things we learn from our loved ones. This poem lets me see your growth through “scrapes and bruises.” It also lets me connect with you. Thank you for writing and sharing!
“I learned it from you
The pulling at the story
To make things fit just so”
So much in these few words. It makes me want to know more. I am glad that you learned how to “brush off the dust” from the recipient of this poem. It will serve you well.
To my younger self
I thought you should know,
That I did it.
Through all the doubts,
All the fear of the unknown,
I am here.
Your hopes and dreams
Are still alive
And prospering within me.
Each day I continue
To reach my goals
To do all the things
You would want me to.
I thought you should know,
Mom and dad are so proud
Of your aspirations
And your ethic.
But more importantly,
I am proud of you too.
We made it to college
And still play softball.
Each time I step on the field
I play with joy,
To bring out my inner you.
I thought you should know,
I carry your heart
And your laugh
Along with me each and every day.
We did it.
We are here.
K C, I just want to say: “I am proud of you too!” You made it the way you wanted, and I celebrate your accomplishment with you. Congratulations!
Your lines are my favorite:
“I carry your heart
And your laugh
Along with me each and every day.”
KC, what a great use of these prompt. I wonder what I would tell my younger self. I love that you added all the details. “We did it. / We are here.” Hooray! Congratulations!
Larin,
¡Felicidades y los mejores deseos! on your first year of teaching. Thank you for hosting today. Your poem about your grandma is very touching. I love the way you describe her smile and you look forward to catching up with her at the end of your poem.
For Phoebe
I thought you should know
we miss you so
Our tiny green branch
on the family tree
is now weeping
Your mama’s longing
Your dada’s aching arms
Milo’s toddler confusion
Does he understand?
His Phoebe and baby
always sounded the same.
I thought you should know
you will continue to be missed
As your dada works in the yard,
creates computer magic,
patiently reads to
and mentors and loves
As your mama sews and knits
and raises plants and feeds
and teaches and loves
As Milo names the vehicles
in his favorite book
Plays kitchen and clean up
Runs, climbs, and laughs
and eats blueberries
I thought you should know
that we think you should be here
(but we don’t know much)
I think I should know
that you know
more than I do now,
so I’ll choose to trust and hope
My heart aches for you and your family. I’m glad, however, that once again “Words that Mend” are here for you to comfort and guide you through your grief.
Denise–I am weeping as I read this. I am so sorry for you and for your family…
Denise, what a beautiful tribute to baby Phoebe. These lines make my heart weep with you:
“Our tiny green branch
on the family tree
is now weeping”
I am also glad you “choose to trust and hope.”
Hugs, my friend!
Denise, your poem is powerful and heartbreaking! The specific images and details provide a keen insight into your family and increases the pain of your family’s grievous loss. Trying to make sense of the world is daunting when faced with such a tragic loss, and I love how you show this in your final lines. Your strength to trust and hope is magnificent. Hugs!
Denise,
Thank you for honoring us by mourning alongside us. This is heartbreaking yet beautiful.
This loved this prompt, Larin. Thank you so much. I immediately thought of my best friend and wrote a poem and then wrote another for my Dad, who passed away a few years ago. I will post them both.
Poem #1
My Best Friend
I thought you should know
That if I could pick any woman out of the world to be my sister,
it would be you.
I thought you should know
that your laugh and smile, and your light
get me through the darkest days.
Even when it’s hard to shine
you illuminate the rooms and hallways
that sometimes corner me
as I pound against the walls.
I thought you should know
that I am doing really well
and I am thankful
for the daily role you have in my life.
I thought you should know you are my family.
Poem #2
Hey Dad
I thought you should know
that in the spring I run my hands
through the rich black earth of my garden
and ask you for guidance.
I thought you should know
that in the summer
I still stop and talk to the farmers about their crops and the weather.
I thought you should know
every January I wait
with eagerness for the seed catalogues
to arrive.
I thought you should know
that I grew my first pole bean this year
and that I add a new vegetable each year
so you can keep an eye on it.
Mona, these are precious. I’m sure you are going to share this with your good friend/sister. So beautiful. This stanza takes my breath away because as a teacher, I know how important a friend like this can be:
The connection with your dad and planting is beautiful. I love how you refer to him in the present tense here “keep an eye on it” and “ask you for guidance” Just beautiful.
Your second poem really strikes me with its attention to details. Like love, it moves step by step, trusting the process. Thank you for your words.
Mona–two odes of love. Two kinds of family…
I especially love that you add a new vegetable for your dad to keep an eye on. I am sure he is proud of your pole bean…
Larin,
Thank you for the inviting prompt. I love the beautiful poem that you wrote for your grandmother, especially the warmth of that 2nd stanza.
There are about 10 poems that I’d like to write to this! This one is written to the father-in-law that I never had the chance to meet. He passed when my wife was a teenager, but, from what I’ve been told, he was a storied conversationalist who always loved a good battle of the wits. I regret not being able to meet him; I think we would have had some fun and thoughtful conversations.
For Argument’s Sake
I thought you should know that whatever
you did, worked.
You raised a tough-minded,
stubborn little intellectual
gremlin of a child. I couldn’t
resist the challenge, and here
we are.
There are no lazy conversations
in this house. There are only
rigorous arguments to be defended
or abandoned, in concession, to
time constraints or an imminent
check-mating of your fraught
position.
I thought you should know that
I wonder what a dinner table conversation
would be like with you sitting across
the table. Funny and formidable,
I’ve been told, coaxing a position
out of an interlocutor, who realizes,
too late, that they have poked their
neck a bit too far out of the rabbit hole.
I thought you should know that your
legacy is secure. Ain’t no easy wins
around here when the words start to fly.
Ideas on wings that have tested by the
glaring heat of fierce verbal contestation.
We don’t send any Icaruses out into the world
to have their ideas melted down and fallen
to the ground. They leave with well-forged
rhetorical wings, and talons–if they need them.
I thought you should know that I think you’d
be proud and that you’d get as good as you’d
give, if you called them in with a
“hey, boy, lemme talk to you a second…”
Dave, This is great! The idea of writing a poem to someone who you never met but are intimately associated with makes it all the more beautiful. I love that these poems allow us to have a conversation with someone. I too thought of several people immediately I could have written a poem for.
Dave, what a gift your father-in-law was to his family, and how wonderful that you honor his legacy with your life and poetry. I hope you give this poem to all who loved him, and I’m so sorry you didn’t get to know him personally.
Dave–I so love this thank you letter to your father-in-law. So much to admire here, but I think I like these lines the most:
We don’t send any Icaruses out into the world
to have their ideas melted down and fallen
to the ground. They leave with well-forged
rhetorical wings, and talons–if they need them.”
Good for you–and for the spouse he created for you!
Dave,
This is fabulous! He sure missed out on knowing you, but he is thrilled that you’re a great match for his girl.
There is so much wonderful language in this poem on top of the deep emotion that resonates.
Larin,
Thanks for this fantastic prompt. Walking the dog this morning, I started six different poems in my head that I might circle back to later.
This stanza made me happy:
Love that the most salient feature you see in your students is their uniqueness.
It’s been a weepy morning reading everyone’s poems and writing my own–a good reminder of the power of poetry.
I Thought You Should Know
I thought you should know
that I still think
about each of you
I remember the terrible sadness
of your funerals
your friend crying together
in their best clothes
I remember how you died
one of you, grounded, sneaking out in your parents’ car
to see your girlfriend deep in the night
before Mother’s Day
t-boned by a hit and run driver
others taken by cancers
transplanted lungs that didn’t work well enough
an undetected heart defect
and far, far too many suicides
I remember how your stoic social studies teacher cried
telling me that he’d run into one of you
while you were walking your dog
and you told him that you would never do
what your mother and brother had done
and how you broke our hearts again
when you did
But I also remember how one of you
fell asleep in my class the first day of school
how concerned one of you were
that in your first year at our school
you didn’t already know
like the other eighth graders
about pathos, ethos, and logos
and how you came to see me at lunch
to learn those terms right away
how one of you was the quiet instigator
of silly mischief
getting your friends in trouble
and going unsuspected
until your teachers caught on
how although one of you almost never did your work
you took such care
making the painting of the teenaged boy
with the emptiness in his middle
which still hangs in my apartment
how I never met one of you
because although you were on my roster for months
you were already too sick to come to school
and the art teacher showed me
your drawings of flowers
so I would know who you were
I remember how you thought you were too old
for your parents to hug you
when they came to class to see your work
I remember how serious and silly you were
I remember goofy things you said
to make your friends laugh
I remember the timbres of your voices
and the slants of your handwriting
Sharon, oh my goodness, no wonder you had a weepy morning. So many students dying. This is heartbreaking, but beautiful That last stanza–the distinct voices and slant of the handwriting is so powerful. It shows the depth we get to know our students. The loss is palpable in your poem. I’m so glad you wrote it. Like you, I had so many ideas for this prompt today.
I recently just experienced loss, and I can really appreciate how you captured the emotion for someone reminiscing over the time that you did share with someone before they were gone.
Sharon–you are continuing my veil of tears tonight. This is so sad and so loving. the details show just how much you knew these kids, and how much you gave them…
Larin, Welcome to a wonderful profession. Stay in touch here and you’ll grow deep roots to keep you stable in the storms that are sure to come. You can have a satisfying and success career … if you stay here. 🙂 Thanks, too, for the poetry prompt. It’s always helpful to give credit to those who helped us along the way. Here’s mine about my grandparents.
Love in a Glove
I thought you should know
You’re someone I admire
I hope that I, too inspire
Positively, like you two did for me.
You gave up the pastorage
And moved back to town
We four were underage
And needed family around
You did not seem to mind
Sharing your home with us
We couldn’t clown around
When we began to fuss
But that’s alright
You disciplined us with love
You warmed us with the glove
When our hands were cold
Or when we got too bold
You know what I mean
Sure others have seen
But they didn’t understand
But we did and we do
We four learned to love
Through you
And I thought you should know
Your love still sparks a glow.
Anna,
What a beautiful tribute your grandparents. Your poem conveys their love and sacrifice and how you’ve carried on the lessons of love, role modelling and discipline. Beautiful.
I found these lines especially powerful:
I can feel the love in this poem. You and I are blessed with giving, loving and caring family. Thanks.
Through you
Anna,
I really love the way you captured your grandparents example of love. I am fortunate enough to have a similar model in my life and feel you portrayed the warmth of love from grandparents wonderfully.
To My Mother-In-Law
I thought you should know
your sons mourned
for two years then had to
grieve again when their
father joined you.
They were orphaned as teenagers
13 and 15.
Family stepped up and nurtured as they could.
They supported, loved, surrounded and fed.
Yet no one insisted on grief counseling.
It was the 1970s though,
and unfortunately, that wasn’t the norm then
and many Black families frowned on that
due to the Tuskegee experiment.
However, I thought you should know
your baby boy grew up
finished college, moved to California
married a gorgeous young teacher
that he met in college.
He moved to California and
has worked various jobs to support his family.
I thought you should know
he fathered two phenomenal
daughters and totally embraced them.
Church matters to him along with supporting his
brother and friends.
His doting and loving
Mother-In-Law saw him as a kindred
spirit.
She also had lost her Mother
as a young child.
They had a terrific relationship
and he often says, “I lost my
Mother but gained an amazing Mother
in Law.”
I thought you should know
overall he’s done splendidly.
However those emotions
creep up on him and managing
them are difficult.
Near the death anniversaries
there are quiet days and
at times he takes to his bed.
Sleep has been his refuge
and a way of hiding sometimes.
There has been some counseling, though,
and over the years and it has empowered him.
Thanks to his insistent wife.
Seana,
This is such a beautiful poem of love and loss. I’m moved by how you show the web of loving relationships–between your mother-in-law and her sons, your mother-in-law and father-in-law, the family that “stepped in”, your mom and your husband, the church, your husband your daughters, but especially the richness of the love between you and your husband. Glad your husband found
to become
Oh, Seana, thank you for this intimate view into your family. What a beautiful tribute to the mother-in-law you never got to know. In the midst of the pain of your poem, this brought a huge smile: “married a gorgeous young teacher / that he met in college.” Yes, indeed! I’m so glad you and your mom have been their to help him heal. Beautiful poem.
I thought you should know
that even though we haven’t talked in years
I never stop thinking about you or
that’s not true I do stop
and that might be why
I say yes so often because
when I am busied, I can
bury rememberings until,
in moments like this,
when I am reminded
I have a mom.
I am not sure I want you to know
what you’ve missed
what I’ve kept from you because
I wasn’t sure you’d see me in a way
that made me feel good, not ashamed
with a list of all the ways we’ve
wronged you, failed you
I cannot trust what you might do
if I told you I wrote a poem
or sipped Chianti in Papa’s garden
or showed you how I am loved because
I think you might make me feel bad
somehow that you didn’t or couldn’t
or wouldn’t or should have been
the one not me, not us
I do wish you knew love, felt love
not judged but I know that ours
even though you added one every year
would never fill you,
never wash away the shame even
with all our hands to help
never undo the harm burrowed
so deep in your, our history
So I don’t confide, can’t face
your gaze of disappointment ever
again, the purse of your upper lip
the dissonance of your gold bracelet
pounding on the table, your voice
shouting a lifetime of pain so loud
I only hear anger, only feel hurt, only
learn to be afraid of your
words, touch, thoughts
I don’t think you could know
who I am now
that I really miss the idea of you
and that maybe this me is
a version of you if you too
had written poetry
Sarah,
I like how you convey the conflict we feel in severed relationships–both wanting things to be better so we could reconnect and share and wanting to stay away and protect ourselves.
I found your last stanza especially powerful:
Sarah, I am in awe of the honesty and authenticity in this poem. Words pale. “maybe this me is / a version of you if you too / had written poetry” strikes me to my core, and I applaud you for putting in so much emotional work to loose yourself from anger and hurt even as it lingers, buried. Thank you so much for sharing.
Sarah, I am holding this poem and you today. Thank you so very much for letting us be witnesses and stand with you in this sacred place. Your honesty and vulnerability, your pain and longing, your self-awareness and trust in your readers is breathtaking. The invitation into the poem in that first stanza is so powerful. Thank you, my friend, and much grace to you as you continue to heal.
Sarah–the honesty, the pain, the strength, the sorrow. I understand so well missing the idea of your mother. I feel the same wish…
Sarah,
I feel as though you truly captured the feeling of being stuck in a relationship, unknown if you really want things to rekindle or if you have to do what is best for you. I think your final stanza really portrays this feeling.
Oh Sarah, your poem is deeply moving and heartbreaking. The pain, loss and anger you’ve experienced rings through each line , and I found the gold bracelet imagery particularly striking. Your final stanza is particularly haunting. Thank you for sharing this honest and brilliantly crafted poem. Hugs!
We think we want something but we want the idea of it rather than the reality of it. Because beyond the idea is pain and disappointment and hurtful history.
I’m not sure how you mustered up the bravery to write this, but I hope you feel a sense of relief. I’m sure it’s heavy.
If I was your mom, I would be so proud of you.
I thought you should know
I find it hard to keep an old house up to date
(maybe I should say functioning)
with new decking, new siding, new floors
plants that need water
birds that need food
bills to pay.
I thought you should know
I am tired
bone tired
even if i look strong
with energy that defies my age.
I thought you should know
I would hesitate to move
to a retirement home
surrounded by people
that want to know my business
and drop things on the floor
above me
making loud clanks.
I thought you should know
that when I complain
I am still content
and happy to be
home.
Larin, thank you for this prompt today. I have not been getting my emails and found them going into another email place on my server. I have missed out! Glad to be joining again today.
Susan, so glad you discovered the email today and joined us. Your poem is so real and rich. The specific details in the stanza about the hesitation to go to a nursing home makes me smile. Peace and contentment to you! I’m glad you get to enjoy your home.
Susan–yes, yes, yes!! That last stanza is one I could have written. I, too, am at an age where those loud clanks could become a reality at some point. YOur poem is a version of conversations I have with my friends much more often. The what-ifs…
Larin, yay!! What a beautiful way to start my day. Thank you for giving me something to ponder this morning while I prepare for work. I want to compose something before lunch because we have a long day with meetings after school. I’m excited about this prompt, and your poem soothes my heart because it feels like both admiration and love, mixed with longing for connection again to your beloved grandmother. I’ll be back!
I thought you
should know
that I don’t
like reading
or hearing
spoilers
about books
(or movies).
I don’t read
the back cover
or dust jacket;
I don’t even
really enjoy
watching trailers
because I’ve
been burned
a time or two
when they
gave too
much away.
I like to be
surprised;
I like to
let the author’s
narrative
“work on me”
as she intended.
So, please, don’t
tell me that _____
doesn’t make it,
that _______
was dead this
entire time,
that _______
is really _____’s
father. I don’t
want to know.
Now, I know people
who like spoilers,
people who read
the last page
of the book
to decide if they
want to even start it.
These people
are not me,
and I thought
you should know.
__________________________________________________
Larin, thank you for this engaging prompt and your lovely mentor poem! Your first stanza is such a beautiful sentiment: “I thought you should know / That sometimes I think of / Who I want to be, / And she looks a lot like / You.” Just beautiful!
Scott,
I like how you used fill-in-the-blank examples that most readers — at least of a certain age– can all probably fill in to unite us in your dislike of spoilers.
I’m with you. I have an aunt who reads the last page of books first and I just don’t get it.
Scott – I am with you all the way with this! I will actually slow my reading to delay the ending of a book that I especially like. This –
I like to
let the author’s
narrative
“work on me”
as she intended
-speaks exactly to the power of writing; it is danged hard work, trying to wordcraft for a specific effect on readers. Therein lies all the magic. You nailed it!!
Great topic for this poem, Scott. (I always find it strange those people who read the end of a story.) I considered writing an “I thought you should know” poem to Mark Twain today about the book James. I know you mentioned you added it to your TBR list the other day. Your poem did not dissuade me, but it might have if I had read it first. Fun poem.
Scott-and this poem expressed exactly why I have never felt the need to watch “Titanic”. We all know how it ends. Thank you!
Leave it to you to take this prompt and turn it on its head while staying true to it. Ending with the “and I thought you should know” works so well.
Scott, this is a poem for the digital age, where spoilers lurk around every corner, and in every notification, on every device that we can’t get away from.
I’m on team “no spoilers” too. But I feel like we’re fighting a losing battle.
I love how this poem unfolds, the “fill in the blank” section, and the concession toward the end.
Larin, what a great post for today. I am so thrilled you are here hosting. What a treasure to see somebody like you getting to work with the youth of our days. You have brought a sense of peace to my day even though its paired with the heartache of loss. Writing and prompts like this have helped me to live in my grief. Thank you so much for sharing. I hope to be back with a poem later today, but for now just had to let you know my gratitude towards your host, inspiration and prompt for today.
Larin,
I get weepy every time I hear this song as the mother of four kids, two of which are boys. I texted the video to both of the boys the second I heard it. SO powerful. I look forward to writing and reading the poems inspired by this song today. Great prompt!
Larin, what a great prompt that I am resisting today because I seem to write only about grief. Your poem about your grandmother is full of love, especially “Who I want to be,
And she looks a lot like
You.” I have a portrait of my grandmother in my dining room. I never met her in real life, but I do want to look like her.
To the Oracle Deck (Snap Dragon: Cooling Down)
I want you to know
I’m trying to balance
will & ego,
soothe my inner fire,
but the system pushes
back again and again.
I want you to know
they say we have to move Mom
to skilled nursing. No! I shout
to you. This will certainly
kill her.
I want you to know
I tried to smile to everyone
I met in the halls at school.
I held onto a door handle
and did tree pose
just to test my balance.
I want you to know
how much I want to love
a puppy that chews my shoelaces
as I write this. If I stay cool,
will he stop and look up
with loving eyes?
I want you to know that no matter
what you told me on Saturday,
my will is fading fast
on Tuesday. I should pick
another card.
Margaret, your last stanza hits me hard and I feel this deep into my bones. I want to be a hype girl for both of us and say, “We’re gonna make it!” but I definitely think that it isn’t genuine. We are here, right now, in this moment. And I’m going to wind back and just be pleased with that. So glad you are here and thank you for sharing this.
P.S. Living in grief is just so hard; I’m thankful writing found me in these times of grief.
Margaret – so powerful this poem. And don’t worry about skilled nursing. My mother-in-law has been there for 3 years and she has been fine – well-cared for.
I know, but every time she is moved, her health declines. This morning it was fear talking. Thanks for your encouragement.
Brilliantly written, Margaret … I could feel the burn of (justified) inner fire, especially with the question of moving your mother. That puppy -! One of ours once chewed my new laptop cord in two (it wasn’t plugged, thankfully, so no electrocution other than my response). I know little of the Oracle Deck although I am seeing something like it in episodes of Poldark. I know Snap Dragon may be utterly right about cooling down – but oh how I love your ending!!
Margaret, peace to you these days of unknowing and worries.
Larin, each verse rings so beautifully in my heart this morning. I like that the words touched your mind – what an image of a feeling of sweet sensitivity. Thank you for prompting us to write today and investing in us as writers.
To the Craftsman in Kentucky Who Made the Secretariat
I thought you should know
this piece has been in my family
since 1966, and we won’t give it up~
it sits in the dining room by the table
here in the heat of Georgia
with a fake plant on top since I
can’t keep real ones alive
and I only wish I could rewind
time through all its days and
relive some of the simplest
moments next to it
through the years
as hash browns fried,
cinnamon toast browned,
bacon sizzled,
teaspoons swirled in steaming mugs
and family talked around the table
~ really talked ~
in those hours like they’d have forever
only they didn’t
and we don’t
which is why, Craftsman, your
work of art is safe with us
turning back the years
in ghostly oak
memories
The domestic details make this poem sing. So good!
I love how you wrote with such detail about a piece of furniture. If only these things could speak back to us. I have an old dining room table that was made well before I was born. I’m tucking away this idea.
Love this – this preserving of history in the form of a dining table.
Kim, I must confess that you had me at first with the words “Kentucky” and “secretariat” as the memory of THE Secretariat came flooding back… my childhood family talking about his miracle record-setting run, all the awe, and even my own emotion over a creature so beautiful. The most meaningful things in our lives are so strangely layered. I think of Keats, “a thing of beauty is a joy forever” – the family is a beautiful thing, as were the conversations and the gathering-places and the objects which stood as silent witnesses. Your poem sings in my bones, friend – thank you.
Kim, I love the way you have distilled the value of this piece of furniture into these sweet moments of connection and the quick pace of life. “in these hours like they’d have forever / only they didn’t / and we don’t” So so beautiful.
Kim, wow, I love how you show the importance of the family times sharing around the table. The food details are perfect to show relevant connections we can all relate to. Your final words are haunting and beautiful. Deeply moving poem! Thank you. Your poem pulled me back to my own kitchen table and the memories we shared there as a family.
Larin, what a lovely prompt – it pulls hard on the heartstrings. I treasured my own grandmother like you do yours. I have often wanted to tell her the things she’s missed, because I know how much she’d rejoice….the lines that strike me so in your poem are your desire to be someone who looks a lot like your grandmother and that longing to catch up someday. -Pow. I feel that to my very core.Thank you for this today.
To My Mother-In-Law
I thought you should know
that your last grandchild
my baby boy
got married on Saturday
I thought you should know
that your daughter wept
over how much he looks
like you
I thought you should know
how happy he is
how much he’s overcome
since you’ve been gone
I thought you should know
(since you loved to write)
that he wrote his own vows
and gave his forever commitment
with absolute conviction
(it was written all over
his face)
I thought you should know
that I recalled your tears
on the morning
of your son’s wedding
to me
because it was raining
(only for a little while)
I thought you should know
that I didn’t cry
when your grandson married
because the day
and his sweet face
were so glorious
I thought you should know
his bride’s gown has the name
of your favorite bird
—The Cardinal
I thought you should know
that, during the ceremony,
for a fleeting moment
I saw him at your bedside
holding your hand
at the moment of your passing
I thought you should know
that he told me
if he should ever have a daughter
he wants to name her
for you
I thought you should know
how much he loves you still
and that your daughter told him
though her tears
just before the ceremony
Ma-Ma is here, you know.
I believe it.
I thought you should know.
So heartfelt! Tears again for the joy and the missing and that longing to tell her who he has become.
Fran, I’m starting Tuesday with tears. Whenever anyone describes a heartfelt poem, we hear the buzzword and think “that’s an overused phrase.” Nope. This one I felt right in my heart, and in my throat, and in my eyes and in my memory of my own son’s wedding and all the feels and love. I’ve been thinking about this wedding – I know it has been something coming up in your life, and how forward you have looked to this day, gaining a daughter. This poem belongs in a frame with a wedding photo – – which I can’t wait to see, by the way. I’m so glad that the wedding brought such moments of joy – – and I’m deeply happy for all of you!
So beautiful, Fran. What a loving tribute.
Fran,
I too cried reading your poem. Thank you for sharing and moving us. I’m having a hard time picking out which line or stanza moved me the most since they are all so sweet/bittersweet.
Fran,
Wow, so much to behold and let linger.
I believe Ma-Ma is here too. 🥰
So beautiful. What a treasure.
I thought you should know
I stole the glass buttons even though I told you
I didn’t as the clerk glared and accused,
her chestnut eyes drilling into me.
Because I was five and greedy,
and you were an exhausted mother
who didn’t have eyes in the back of her head
or extra money for a silly luxury.
I thought you should know
I kept them tucked away in a sock beneath
the tidy clothes you always kept for me,
folded and pressed with love and starch.
The buttons were gold and beautiful like amber sunlight
and even though I couldn’t sew then,
I’d seen you work your magic with the sewing machine
and I knew one day I could, too.
I thought you should know
I felt rotten when I found them years later,
because they’d lost their magic but the lie still shimmered
and the sunlight had faded to an eclipse.
Still, I couldn’t get rid of them, and so I changed
their hiding spot, to an old wallet up in the attic where they
huddled with spider eggs and hardened lint
wondering why they’d never been used, they were so lovely.
I thought you should know
when now it wouldn’t matter if I told you because you don’t
know who I am, or the way you sewed for me or cleaned my clothes
and I would give a million buttons to see that glint of recognition in your eyes.
Suddenly, my theft is nothing compared to the way time and age
have stolen you from me. And all I have left to console myself
after all these years, is a pair of golden buttons who deserve to be more
than a faded memory.
How exquisitely beautiful, this confession and longing. The details belong to the poet but also to the reader who likely understands a similar personal experience. You make me want to write a poem like this. Wow!
Thanks so much Linda!
Sarah,
Your poem made me cry.
I like how you structured your poem to start with a simple, trivial theft and end with the overwhelming theft of the loss of recognition.
Oh my goodness – – the lie still shimmered…..what a powerful, haunting line. Your relationship and remorse and memory and sheer love for your mom is felt so vividly here – those buttons buttoned this feeling into the poem. And the glass helps us see through into the emotion.
Sarah,
this poem is so beautiful and touching. I read it this morning, and now I’m back to read it again. I have wept both times. Those golden buttons are such a powerful symbol here. I’m just in awe of how well you told this revelation and the sad way you can’t tell your mom. I hope you will find a beautiful use for the golden buttons.
I’m so glad you caught up with us here. Wow! First year of teaching. I’m so proud of you and happy for what you bring to our profession–this love of poetry. Way to go, kid!
This prompt invites lyrics…maybe it’s because of reading about Wallen’s song that sent me down that road. But, as I drafted my little poem I was humming it. Thank you for that. And, I can’t wait to see what Kevin comes up with!
Your poem is such a love song to a hero. Whoever that person is, they are fortunate.
My draft:
Dear World,
I just want you to know
I’m here
I might not be able
to do much more
than stand with you,
bear witness to today
name the things
that aren’t OK,
and cheer for those
who celebrate
tears running down
my face.
I just want you to know
I hear you
groaning in the night
putting up a fight to breathe
praying things will
work out right.
You’re so dear to me
I just want you to know
that for better or for worse
I’ll never shy away
from giving you my best
even if all that is–
is being here
making up songs
in the dark
humming when a line
won’t rhyme
or can’t find the words
to say
I’m here
I’m here
I’m here.
Beautiful beginning to end but the repetition of ‘I’m here,’ resonates well beyond the poem.
Your word “World”: what a lovely message and pretty much all we can do is be here.
Linda – powerful images and the last stanza repetition of I’m here is so reassuring through all the tears and chaos.
Linda, such a beautiful, longing, aching ode to our Earth. I can feel your passion and grace in every word.
Linda, thank you for this loving ode to the world! I love this truth: “I’ll never shy away / from giving you my best / even if all that is- / is being here.”
Hi Larin
Thanks for the prompting. I wrote an update poem of my kids to the memory of my mother, who died at an age younger than I am right now (which sort of unsettles me whenever I think about it).
Kevin
I thought you should know
the first one wasn’t
the last one — two others
arrived afterwards,
all born healthy and
now settling into adulthood;
the oldest, the one
you knew and loved
and held and hugged,
a maker of documentary films
and creative arts;
the middle, the one
you knew was coming but
could not hold on long enough
to see, a weekend club DJ
in New York City;
the youngest, the one
you never knew but
might have loved the most,
a hip-hop music producer
living in a college room
in Boston
I thought you should know
we’re doing OK
I knew this prompt was up your alley! Wow. What a tender, beautiful poem to someone very special who I wish your children could know now just as the poem is wishing. Just beautiful…the update so full of joy.
Thanks for sharing such a personal poem about your children. I’m sure she sees them, even though she’s no longer here.
Aw, Kevin, I love knowing what you believe your late mother should know too. It’s such a treat to get to see a glimpse of your family and to read these poems today and to get to know everyone better. And that music runs right through your genes!
Your mother has been watching. She knows. She’s reading your poem and nodding her head.
A lovely discussion with your mother and a proud description of you children. My, how time flies! I like to think that those who have left us still know.
Kevin, what a beautiful update that shows your love for your mother and also for your children. The line “knew and loved and held and hugged” is particularly impactful as it gives an image and deeper connection between grandchild and grandmother. Thank you for sharing!
This is pure love! Thank you, Kevin. Your kids make me happy and I don’t know them. 💙
Kevin,
I love the intimate details you share, and how you know your mother so well to know that she “might have loved [the youngest] the most” and that ending is perfect. It’s what I would want to know about my family after I go.