Welcome to Day 5 of the August Open Write. A very special thank you to our August educators who have hosted this month’s open write: Gayle Sands, Margaret Simon, Anne Burg, and Scott McCloskey. You have taken such good care of our hearts and minds. To learn more about the Open Write, click here.

Scott McCloskey

Born in Memphis on June 1, 1937, he has received several Academy Award nominations for his staring roles in Street Smart, Driving Miss Daisy, The Shawshank Redemption, Million Dollar Baby – which he won for Best Supporting Actor – and Invictus.  He has also won a Screen Actors Guild Award, A Golden Globe Award, and three Obie Awards.*  [Note: none of this is about the guy pictured above.  He’s won none of those awards.  His name is not Morgan Freeman.  He’s just some English teacher – named Scott McCloskey – from Michigan who occasionally writes poetry.]

* “Morgan Freeman.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 30 July 2022, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Morgan_Freeman#Awards_and_nominations. Accessed 5 Aug. 2022.

Inspiration

Have you heard of the saying, “I was today years old when I found out about…..”?  It’s what we say when we find out something surprising, something new that we’ve just learned.  For instance, did you know that snails have the most teeth of any animal in the world?  The Rainbow Slug (essentially a snail without a shell) can have as many as 700,000 teeth.  That’s a lot of teeth.  Or did you know that ceiling fans have a switch on the side so you can change their directions, which you should do depending on the season (clockwise in winter and counterclockwise in summer)?  Isn’t being a life-long learner pretty cool?  There’s new stuff to learn every day!  Let’s use this to our advantage!

Process

Think of the most recent (most interesting / startling) thing that you’ve learned.

[If you need help “finding” interesting and/or startling facts, here’s a list of thirty at (https://www.boredpanda.com/today-years-old-people-share-facts/?utm_source=google&utm_medium=organic&utm_campaign=organic).]

Use it in a free verse poem.

You could examine the fact.  Interrogate it.  Expand on it.  Or simply just share it with the rest of us.

[Were you to use this “in class,” you could have your students research a topic, find an interesting “fact” and then explore that “fact” in a poem.  You could even have them cite their sources so you (and your other students) could learn more about the given (or self-chosen) topics.] 

Here are two poems that seem to explore some interesting facts (among other things, of course).

Kay Ryan’s “A Plain Ordinary Steel Needle Can Float on Pure Water” can be read here (https://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php%3Fdate=2014%252F03%252F12.html), and you can even listen to it read by Garrison Keillor if you’d prefer (at 3:23 mins.).  

Or you can read Ada Limón’s poem “What I Didn’t Know Before” here (https://www.washingtonsquarereview.com/ada-limn).  If you’d like to hear Limón read this beautiful poem herself, just fast forward to around thirty-five minutes in the video here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dr3nuEVUygQ).

Scott’s Poem

Toxoplasmosis

Watching an episode
of Chicago Med,
I realize that some
cat owners have a
single-celled parasite
in their brains that
compel them to
take care of their cats.

I smile, looking over
at you, curled
on the couch,
wife of mine
for over twenty-five
years, arm crooked
around the Kindle,
half watching,
half reading,
and I think, this
is gold, I can use
this, fashion
it into a poem
about attraction,
about want and need,
about how deeply
I love you,

but I just can’t seem
to get past the notion
of consent – or lack
thereof – if I’m being
“made” to love you or
if it’s my own free will,
and besides
there’s the problem
that this parasite
is excreted
by the cats
in their feces,
and no amount
of linguistic wordplay
could get passed that.

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.

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Denise Krebs

Scott, thanks for the prompt. It’s been a busy week, so I haven’t got to participate as much as I like with this stellar group in this lovely space. Thanks for the fun and learning you brought today. And, of course, for your signature humor–the bio, the love poem and the links to the poems and interesting facts. I had fun here today. Now…

The hour is late and
I haven’t learned much in a
month of Sundays, but
today I may have learned that
you can hammer one nail
53 times before it goes in.

Glenda M. Funk

Denise!!! I’ve been thinking about your construction project and wondering how it’s going Your poem offers some insight. I call that learning! I like the turn and the hyperbole. Did you count how many snacks you gave that nail? Maybe it’s time for a nail gun!

Scott M

Denise, yes! LOL. I have been there! This, undoubtedly, says more about me, but, hammering is hard! There is definitely a skill to it. You have to choke up on the hammer, lift it to a certain height, and aim straight and true: it’s not easy. And I loved the build-up of your poem, too, leading to the punch of “53 times before it goes in.” Thanks for sharing tonight!

Cara Fortey

I struggled with this one, but it’s been a long week. Thank you, Scott (and the other hosts) for giving me a break from caretaking this week.

I Was Today Years Old When I Learned… 

In Iceland, 
more than half of the population
believes in elves. 
So much so,
that places believed to be 
inhabited by the beings
are protected–
rocks moved,
roads rerouted,
churches cared for.

I would like to live
in a world where 
the imaginary (to some)
is respected 
and revered–
where believing in magic
is not just for children
but for the wise
and worldly, too. 

Laura Langley

Cara, I want to live in that world too! Thank you for inviting me in for a brief visit and sharing such an endearing fact! I appreciate the physical examples you give at the end of the first stanza—they legitimize the belief in a way that feels attainable for other things that need protection.

Denise Krebs

Cara, Iceland seems like a magic place. Isn’t that cool! “I would like to live in a world where”…everyone “is respected and revered” regardless of their beliefs. It seems Iceland is on the right track.

Glenda M. Funk

Cara,
We just returned from a trip to Iceland. Our road-trip discussions often leaned into the odd turns in the road. Now I know what that’s all about! I’d like to live in this world you envision, too!

Scott M

Cara, I really enjoyed this! I totally agree with you and the others, “I would like to live / in a world where / the imaginary (to some) / is respected / and revered.” Thank you for this Icelandic info! And I hope your next week is “better,” meaning less “long.” 🙂

Stacey Joy

Scott, this prompt is definitely one to save and return to many times again. Your poem brought a much needed giggle to my worn and tired self this evening. I didn’t want to miss writing tonight so I’m sharing a rough draft. Hopefully, I’ll be able to return to it when the chaos of Back to School subsides.

When I Was a Student…

I never learned
Black History
other than enslavement
I never read
Black literature
none at all
I never studied
Ancient African Kingdoms
or the inventors
of…
the refrigerator
the hot comb
the gas mask
the turntable
or the potato chip

I was today years old
on the contributions 
of my ancestors
well into my 40’s

I never learned about
Black Literary Societies
Phillis Wheatley
or Elizabeth Thorn Scott Flood,
the first Black educator 
of a public school in California

I am today years old
every time I learn
something new
I should’ve been taught 
many years ago
to cultivate the genius in me

©Stacey L. Joy, August 24, 2022

Mo Daley

This is so sad and so true. I often think, “I should have learned that in high school.” Your poem reminded me of a trip to Boston a few years ago. On a walking tour we visited Phyllis Wheatley’s grave. I was the only one who had heard of her. The guide seemed impressed. It made me sad.

Barb Edler

Stacey, your poem is powerful and shows how educators fail. I know I failed at times with various things but my students always read diverse texts and definitely Phillis Wheatley, but I know the gaps are huge and there appears to be a move to stifle and censor important issues and ideas in our society. It hurts like the truth in your poem.

Laura Langley

Stacey, that last stanza is so powerful. I love the line “I am today years old/every time I learn/something new.” How your words play with time here creates a strong condemnation of our country’s perpetual failure to celebrate/humanize Black people.

Scott M

Stacey, thank you for writing tonight! Your poem speaks so much truth. I’m hopeful that change is possible and is, indeed, happening (if the poets here and the teachers I follow on Twitter are any indication). Decolonizing the curriculum is slow — but crucial — work. Thanks, again, for this! (And I hope your “cha[otic] Back to School” calms down soon!)

Denise Krebs

Stacey, thank you for teaching us. Yes, indeed. I learned such an inoculated history. Here’s to all the black genius cultivation! I hate it that disallowing white people to feel uncomfortable has become a new (or reprised racist) policy.

Glenda M. Funk

Stacey,
I hear you, friend. I didn’t learn these things either, and how I wish I had because as much as that learning cultivates the genius in you, it also enriches me and all other white folk, even though many don’t realize it.

Susan Ahlbrand

Covalence

Aristotle hypothesized it first
Then Tanzanian high school student
made a discovery in 1963
The Mpemba Effect . . .
Hot things freeze
faster 
than cold things.

Evaporation 
decreases
mass
so  there is
less
to freeze.

Oxygen atoms are larger
than hydrogen ones
Covalent bonds stretch
and relinquish their energy.

Passionate, heated love
often fades in the face 
of time and reality.

Even, steady love
might lack intensity
but its stability 
lasts.

Big personalities
suck in and overshadow 
the quiet ones
bringing about 
unexpected outcomes.

So many things
aren’t what they seem 
or what we would expect 
them to be.

24 August 2022

Mo Daley

I just love all these parallels you’ve put together, Susan. Very clever.

Scott M

Susan, I love this! From the “hard” science of the Mpemba Effect to the “soft” science of relationship psychology, your poem speaks the truth: “So many things / aren’t what they seem / or what we would expect / them to be.” (And I especially love these lines about “steady love.” It “might lack intensity / but its stability / lasts.” Thanks for returning to share this with us!)

Mo Daley

Vellichor is yet
Another addition to
My never agains

*Side note- I lost my sense of smell 10 years ago. For the second time this week I’m thanking Susie Dent for teaching me a new word!

Scott M

Oh, no! I’m sorry about this, Mo! I love that scent. It’s bottled in a perfume from Demeter called Paperback. (And I do love the phrasing of “Another addition to / My never agains” — so thank you for that!)

tammi

Scott — Thank you for this amazing prompt. I loved your poem. The ending literally had me laughing out loud.

Today Years Old

I guess I didn’t pay attention
to an essential ingredient
when I watched the movie Fried Green Tomatoes. 

Or maybe I’ve just forgottenit was thirty years ago …

Or maybe I am just too focused on getting to the food truck during lunch hour.

Maybe I didn’t notice the essential ingredient
because I was enthralled with the tale of
a forlorn housewife and an exuberant elderly lady,  
a blossoming friendship between generations.

Or

maybe I’m just too too busy salivating over the crispy fried goodness
wafting from that food truck in the school parking lot.

Now as I sink my teeth into warm sourdough bread,
I think I may have discovered a delectable new tomato variety
smothered in provolone,

discovered a slice of heaven,

and even as the green hot sauce dribbles down my chin,
and I lick my fingers clean,
I marvel at this amazing
sandwich

a little moan slips from my lips

This sandwich
is

Oh, my God,
so,
so,
good!

I vow to rush to the grocery store, 
purchase this amazing 
tomato.

I am Today Years Old
when I learn that the essential ingredient
in a Fried Green Tomato Sandwich
is 
nothing
exotic, 
merely
an unripened 
tomato

Today Years Old 

Susan O

This is a great discovery, Tammi. Love that you were salivating over this green tomato. I accidentally discovered the worth of these tomatoes when I was growing them and the plant leaves were devoured by the tomato worm before the tomatoes were ripe. I actually learned to make a green tomato cake. Your poem made me remember that. Yummy!

Mo Daley

Your descriptions have me salivating, Tammi. I love that you’ve somehow overlooked the obvious fir so long, but have totally embraced it now!

Scott M

Tammi, I also love fried green tomatoes! They truly are “a slice of heaven.” (I also love that your school has a food truck that serves them!) Thank you for taking us on this journey of revelation, eventually culminating with the knowledge “that the essential ingredient / in a Fried Green Tomato Sandwich / is / nothing / exotic, / merely / an unripened / tomato.” Thank you for this!

Leilya Pitre

Thank you so much, Scott! I thoroughly enjoyed your poem and all the other poem. I also was fascinated by things I didn’t know until today. Learning might be dangerous because it raises so many questions 🙂 I had fun with this prompt. Thank you again!

Allergies

-Did you know humans
can be allergic to the moon?

-What? -Yes, that’s right!
An astronaut Harrison Schmidt
had a severe allergy
to the Moon dust.

Then, what if people are allergic
to the Earth’s dust?
Should they go to the Moon?
What if it’s even worse,
and they are allergic to both?

How can I sleep well tonight?
What if I am allergic
to something people don’t know yet?
So many questions…

Anna

Leilya, good question? Thanks for introducing us to this idea. Don’t think moon dust will be a issue for many us for a few years. But I keep this in mind if I win a place on the next trip. 🙂

Mo Daley

Argh! I didn’t know this! I’m pretty sure I can’t be an astronaut now. I have so many allergies.

Scott M

Leilya, I really enjoyed this! And you are absolutely right, more knowledge inevitably leads to further questions. “What if I am allergic / to something people don’t know yet?” is such a legitimate question (and concern)! And I agree with you and Anna, our future may see the list of allergens slightly longer with the addition of Moondust! Thank you for writing and sharing your poem today!

Glenda M. Funk

Leilya,
It makes sense that some are allergic to the moon—to moon dust. It is dust. It probably makes more sense for those allergic to earth dust to move to a wetter part of the planet to avoid dust rather than to hitch a ride to the moon! Fun poem. I’m pondering all these questions!

Stacey Joy

Leilya,
Fun wonderings here! I think I’m allergic to noise! Lol! I love this.

What if I am allergic

to something people don’t know yet?

So many questions…

?

Maureen Y Ingram

Scott, I adore how your poem is both romantic and humorous! Yes, I love learning new and startling things. Here is some learning from our summer vacation …

innate wisdom 

along the Rogue River Gorge
with my own eyes 
I witnessed 
a living stump

a Douglas fir 
cut down 
severed 
yet
healed 
thriving

what I didn’t know before is
this is true for many trees

roots of neighbors
lovingly reach out 
nurturing the depleted 

trees 
let each other know
when they are stressed

trees
live as community
together
rather than 
solitary 

trees
instinctively
take care of one another

a giving co-living 

innate wisdom

Leilya Pitre

Thank you, thank you, Maureen! I didn’t know that
“roots of neighbors
lovingly reach out 
nurturing the depleted 
trees.”

Your poem so beautifully ends with:
” a giving co-living 
innate wisdom ”
When will we learn to be so caring and generous like Mother Nature intended us to be?

 

tammi

Maureen — I recently just learned this too. Nature is truly amazing. It would be wonderful if people cared for each other like nature does.

Love these lines:
roots of neighbors/lovingly reach out/ nurturing the depleted/ 
trees/ let each other know/when they are stressed/trees/live as community/together

Scott M

This is fascinating, Maureen. I’m so glad this is true! We have so much we can (and should) learn from nature. So beautiful: “trees / live as community / together / rather than / solitary / trees / instinctively / take care of one another.” Thank you for sharing with us what you “witnessed” on your summer vacation!

Denise Krebs

Maureen, your sweet poem reminds me of the book The Overstory.

Glenda M. Funk

Maureen,
Yes! Trees form communities. The contrasts in your poem are wonderful: living stump; cut down/healed thriving, among others. A felled tree asks us to contemplate what it means to live and to die. Have you read “The Hidden Life of Trees”?

Stacey Joy

Maureen, what a love song and tribute to nature!

roots of neighbors

lovingly reach out 

nurturing the depleted 

trees 

let each other know

when they are stressed

Oh, how I love this hopeful poem!

Glenda M. Funk

Back around 1980-81 my now ex-husband, who was in the Marines at the time and living in the barracks, found bugs in his oatmeal. He requested “office hours” to complain to the commanding officer. My poem is based on what he learned in the meeting and shared w/ me.

Creepy Crawler Military Chow Memo

To: Military Personnel
From: USMC commandant, Marine   Corps Air Station, Yuma, Arizona 
Re. Consumption of insect protein
Date: 1981

As per protocol &
FDA guidelines 
Chow hall rations 
Consumed by NCOs 
May exhibit evidence of 
Insects & other anthropoid
Body parts, including but not 
Limited to wings, legs, antenna, & 
Crunchy abdominal cavities. 

While you may occasionally
Observe cootie-like creatures in 
Your Quaker oatmeal & 
Captain Crunch flakes, 
Be assured Uncle Sam’s 
Bean counters at the Pentagon
Parse per person acceptable 
Protein provided by grasshoppers 
(An Oaxacan delicacy) & other 
Winged anthropoids. 

Drink up & 
Chow down. 
Bon Appetite.  
Thank you for your service.

—Glenda Funk
August 24, 2022

Barb Edler

Glenda, oh my, there is something quite disturbing when you find creepy crawlers in your oatmeal, etc. I love how you formatted this poem. The final short lines/directive adds quite a humorous punch. Thank you for providing such an interesting perspective and poem:)

Christine Baldiga

“Drink up & chow down Bob Appetite” ?? Ugh! I think I’d shop off base for a while. Thanks for the laugh

Maureen Y Ingram

Wonderful storytelling through poetry! It is SO true that these insects provide important proteins – but one really does not want to see the little creepy crawlies. I really enjoyed the alliterative “p’s” of these lines –

Bean counters at the Pentagon

Parse per person acceptable 

Protein provided by grasshoppers 

tammi

Glenda — What a horrible experience! I got the willies reading
Body parts, including but not/ 
Limited to wings, legs, antenna, &/ 
Crunchy abdominal cavities.”

Those poor Marines!

Leilya Pitre

Oh, my, Glenda, it feels so unsettling to know that the rations:
May exhibit evidence of 
Insects & other anthropoid
Body parts, including but not 
Limited to wings, legs, antenna, & 
Crunchy abdominal cavities.”

Don’t know what to do with this knowledge 🙂 Love the sarcasm in the final lines. Thank you for sharing!
 

Scott M

Glenda, this had me LOLing throughout. I really enjoyed the realism of the memo formatting and the explosive “P”s in the third stanza: “Pentagon / Parse per person acceptable / Protein provided by grasshoppers.” And I especially loved the five-word phrase “including but not / Limited to” about all the body parts that could be found in the “rations.” (This had me remembering the stories of my youth about the acceptable percentages of insect parts in peanut butter!) Thank you for writing and sharing this!

Susan Ahlbrand

Glenda,
As always, so well done! The tongue-in-cheek is so perfect. Love the irony of “Thank you for your service.”

Nancy White

Glenda, this is great! I shudder to think what we unknowingly ingest. But no worries, non appetit! ?

Denise Krebs

Oh, my that is just too gross. It’s different if you are choosing to eat grasshoppers in Oaxaca, then if they are allowed to eat your food before you get to. That last stanza made me laugh and cry a little.

Christine Baldiga

Scott, I haven’t stopped laughing since reading both your intro paragraph and poem this morning. Thank you for inspiring me and reminding me of the importance of laughter!
My idea for todays verse came to me over the airwaves this afternoon when I was fortunate to hear a sensational interview. I instantly knew I hit poetry gold!

I couldn’t believe my ears
While driving across town
The radio host was interviewing
the famous Nordic Thunder.

Who’s he you ask?
Well don’t you know?
He is THE world champion of
Air Guitar!

I listened intently to discover new facts
about the August event
Where adults compete “shamelessly
playing their invisible instruments.”

They gather in Finland
for the renowned event
Proud of their slogan:
Make Air Not War

A quick glance at their website
will help you understand:
You can’t hold a gun
while playing a guitar

They promise a week of hullabaloo
with room for everyone –
Just show up in a showy wardrobe
and bring along some flashy moves

I’m sure the contest is intense
with competition tight
And when it comes to awarding prizes
I wonder if the winner
will finally get a guitar?

Glenda M. Funk

Christine, Who knew! This reminds me of beat boxing and The Hong Show. People have an endless capacity for creative ways to entertain themselves! I can see this as a school assembly competition.

Maureen Y Ingram

I have a friend who competes in Air Guitar – the shows are astounding. I love the slogan, “Make Air Not War”

Susan O

This IS something I never knew. Thanks! The group seems very Nordic to me and I love their slogan. So true, you can’t hold a gun while playing a guitar.

tammi

Christine — Love this! “Make Air Not War” — hysterical! I want to see this event.

Scott M

Christine, this is wonderful! Thank you for enlightening us today about Nordic Thunder and the Air Guitar championship competition! I had no idea this even existed, but when thinking about it, I realized, why not? Why wouldn’t this be a thing? Lol. And you can’t argue with their tagline: “You can’t hold a gun / while playing a guitar.” (And, on a craft note, I loved that you started off your poem with the line “I couldn’t believe my ears.”)

Denise Krebs

Christine, how fun. Thanks for sharing. I love these poems today, as it’s like watching short human interest clips on the news. Not just for this, but because of people I know and other things I have heard, Finland seems like a nice place. I think guitars instead of guns would be a great change.

Wendy Everard

“Today Years Old” Poem

I was today years old
when I discovered 
that my Corgi, Sprout, wears –
what is cozily referred 
to as – an undercoat.

His secret uncovered…
was too much to bear.
That pleading I heard
when out on summer walk, a summer boat…
was silent begging, untold

uncomfort:  “Why must the glare 
of the sun broil me so?  Why this absurd
heat from which I recoil?
May I be so bold
as to suggest, for recovery,

a turnabout…back home?”  He herds
me, creeps closer, foils
my plans to walk further and nudges me.  Sold,
I am governed…
and realize, now, that his stare

is not meant to spoil
our peaceful walks, but is a truth untold…
from my beloved little dog.  As I, care-
free, tugged him forward
and, deaf, misheard his message:

“Mom, I’m hot.”

IMG_1568.jpg
Glenda M. Funk

Wendy,
Snug feels for your little fellow. He, too, gets hot from his undercoat and let’s his mom and dad know. We’re both happy to see that darling photo.

Wendy Everard

Glenda, I love your dog’s name! <3

Scott M

Wendy, I love the picture of Sprout! And the fact that he is so formal in his discussions with you throughout your poem brought me a smile. I love that he used the words “broil,” “absurd” and “turnabout.” And he’s so polite and formal with his “May I be so bold” question only to be so blunt and straightforward once you kept misunderstanding him: “Mom, I’m hot.” And now that I think of it — and know that I am no expert in microexpressions, especially of the canine variety — but is that the briefest hint of disdain in Sprout’s expression that I see? No, it’s probably just the weary expression of “it’s hard raising humans.”

Wendy Everard

Scott, I think he’s often full of disdain for us! ?

Maureen Y Ingram

Your Corgi is adorable! I love the speech patterns you have imagined for him – politely insistent.

tammi

Wendy — What an adorable dog! I love his very proper speech. Sounds like he is the master of the house.

Nancy White

Something concerning…

I just learned today
Of dinosaur tracks that lay, 
Once under the lake
But now I’m crackly mud they bake

And the rivers and lakes, all receding
Show marks men left in years preceding 
That if you see these marks you should worry—
You might run out of water in a hurry

Stefani B

Oh Nancy, I love how you’ve taken today’s prompt and connected to current news and climate change. The rhythm and rhyme is great as well!

Barb Edler

Nancy, I enjoyed the lyrical format of your poem. Your ending adds a punch because this fact is serious. I read recently that they are finding dead bodies in a particular lake because of the water decreasing. We could end up as extinct as the dinosaurs.

Christine Baldiga

Yes! I saw that on the news too! How exciting and scary at the same time! You’ve captured those thoughts nicely in your words!

Scott M

Nancy, I love this poetic warning about climate change! Your end rhyme belies the seriousness of the message, which helps drive home the importance of your topic. The cognitive dissonance that’s created when I’m merrily repeating “today” and “lay” and “receding” and “preceding” but then focus on the catastrophic message — the planet is heating up, and quick — is quite jarring (and very effective). Thank you for your offering today!

Glenda M. Funk

Nancy,
Your poem is a siren song. I read a lot of climate literature and think about what receding water and polar ice caps reveal. It’s not good!

Maureen Y Ingram

Truly concerning new knowledge! I love the rhyming, especially receding and preceding…

tammi

Nancy,

Yes, we all need to worry. You’ve captured the urgency of our plight: And the rivers and lakes, all receding/Show marks men left in years preceding/ That if you see these marks you should worry—/You might run out of water in a hurry

The other day NPR reported the Rhine River, once twenty feet deep, is now only five!

Susan O

Owl Legs

I was today years old 
when I learned that owls 
have really long legs,
knobby knees covered by fluffy feathers 
making pantaloons down to their 
feet.

What if Owl had lifted the feathers 
and danced a tap dance for
Christopher Robin?

What if the Hedwig the Owl messenger
added an extra touch to mail delivery
wearing tap shoes and dancing a jig?

What if Owl Brown 
hides acorns from Squirrel Nutkin
under this skirt of feathers?

What if Hooty Owl that pays me a visit
lands on the fence wearing cotton pantaloons 
instead of feathers?

What if you show me your legs shy Owl?

Oh what fun that would be!

Thank you, Scot for this delightful bio and prompt. Yes, you had me fooled at first and I wanted to know more about you. The links are so enjoyable. I found myself wasting my morning reading all the new things I never knew about.

Stefani B

Susan,
I love the use of “pantaloons” to describe this–fabulous word choice. Thank you for sharing today.

Barb Edler

Susan, what a marvelous title. I never knew anything about owl legs. I enjoyed your allusion to Winnie the Pooh. Your closing lines were particularly delightful. Very fun poem.

Scott M

Susan, Lol! Sorry/not sorry for “wasting [your] morning” 🙂 I didn’t know about the long owl legs either until I was researching this prompt. It’s so strange, isn’t it? I loved how you took this info and connected it to these various famous owls (and even to your own Hooty Owl who “pays [you] a visit”). And I agree with Stefani, “pantaloons” is such a perfect word that you’ve chosen! Thank you!

tammi

Susan — I love this poem! Your images of the various Owl’s showing their legs made me chuckle, especially the tap dancing Hedwig and the pantaloon wearing Hooty Owl. Such a fun poem!

Susan Ahlbrand

Thanks, Susie, for bringing various owls back into awareness. I loved these cute, nostagic lines that draw up funny thoughts:

What if Owl had lifted the feathers 

and danced a tap dance for

Christopher Robin?

Nancy White

? ? ? I love the playfulness of this! I never knew about their pantaloons, but it makes perfect sense. Now I will forever wonder about the skinny owl legs I can’t see!

Margaret Simon

Scott, this is a great exercise because everyone has something they can write about. Your wonderings about the parasite which leads to a love poem allowed me to explore an irony that I’ve been mulling over since I had a Mohs procedure on Monday.

Being a patient is not new to me,
but at today’s years old,
I learned of a procedure for removing
cancer cells off a nose called Mohs.

The young doctor told me
“You’re going to love this!”
as he stitched and stitched
as if there’s anything to love about
his brutal touch, about cancer cells, about a hole in my nose.

Sure I want to be rid of it,
but I carry the sign,
the cross-hatch signature
he was so proud of, the black eye,
the irritant of a bandage on my face.

I am learning that knowledge
is not all it’s cracked up to be.
Just hand me an ice pack
and let me go back to
numbed ignorance.

Barb Edler

Oh, Margaret, first your poem is compelling and I was immediately drawn into your poem, but I am so sorry to hear that you had to have this procedure. The cross-hatch procedure line makes me feel the pain. Your final line is perfectly delivered. Hope you are able to heal quickly.

Stefani B

Margaret, your poem has left me with mixed emotions. First, I hope all is well after this procedure and this connects me to all the jargon we use as educators (sometimes). Do our students always connect and transfer our use of nuanced words in our classroom? Your experience has me pondering this:)

Scott M

Margaret, thank you for this! There is so much truth here. First, I’m sorry you had to go through this procedure and further that you had to suffer a “young doctor” who couldn’t “read the room.” I’m glad that he enjoys his job, but, ugh, really?, come on. (My wife, immunocompromised and therefore no stranger to hospital procedures, will often relay how she, once again, had to refuse some eager med student or other about some unnecessary procedure, “uhm, no, thank you, I’d rather not get a lumbar shot because you need the practice.”) On a craft note, I love the build-up of your annoyance after his use of the word “love” with your list: “his brutal touch, about cancer cells, about a hole in my nose.” Again, thank you for “mulling” this over and crafting it so well into today’s offering!

Christine Baldiga

Margaret, I hope you are healing and feeling better each day. Oh the wounds we carry with us – the cross hatching your doctor brags of – leaves us with pain and concern. Yea, numbed ignorance may be bliss!

Susan O

Margaret, I must first say that I am sorry you are going through this. My husband had that procedure as well. How can the young doctor say “You’re going to love this!” except he is just proud of his work. Your line “I carry the sign, the cross-hatch signature he was so proud of” says it clearly. I hope your nose heals well.

Leilya Pitre

Hope the procedure went well, and you are recovering promptly, Margaret! Take good care of yourself, and thank you for sharing. I agree sometimes “numbed ignorance” is a bliss.

Sarah

What I didn’t know before

was that turtles do not go
inside their shells; they are
they are, they are their shells.

and this was a stunning revelation
for me, for me, for me who lives
to witness humanity’s poetic forms

gazing at the gorgon to see
swimming in the tears to feel
seeping in the joy to remember

I wear these bones fortified
by Our stories.

Susan O

Yes, isn’t that something about the turtle! Sarah, your poem shows such love for poetry and writing within our group. The words of your last line links the strength of turtles’ bones to the strength we gain from each other with our writing.

Barb Edler

Sarah, your poem is stunning. The repetition adds such a wonderful echo and rhythm to your poem. Absolutely in awe of your closing stanza! Magnificent poem full of connections!

Ann Burg

Sarah, this is lovely. Yesterday on my walk, I came across a turtle. So still he was that, thinking he was dead, I stooped to look closer. Peering from beneath his shell were two wary eyes waiting for me to pass and I remembered first learning that a turtle shell is fused to its body so that a turtle does not go inside their shells like a hermit crab. The earth and her creatures are amazing!

Scott M

Goosebumps, Sarah! I so love the “they are / they are, they are” and “for me, for me, for me” repetitions in your first and second stanza (which, of course, mirror your “gazing,” “swimming,” and “seeping” in your last stanza, following your “witness[ing] humanity’s poetic forms”). To be honest, at first, I thought your second “they are” was a mistype — remembering your video of how you sometimes type “in the moment” in the actual text box on your site 🙂 — until I got to your third “they are.” And then you used this brilliant device to connect to you and then to the poems and words and stories from Ethical ELA. And, again, knowing that you created this space to nurture others (and yourself) with poetry, how these offerings have “fortified” us all. So, yeah, goosebumps.

Barb Edler

Scott, I am particularly fascinated by the close of your poem, thinking about the fact that a parasite might be responsible for an action or feeling. I recently read of someone passing because they were infected with a brain-eating amoeba. This musing led me to something I ponder often. Thank you for your wonderful prompt. I think students would love this writing prompt.

Nebulous Connection
 
fearing the unknown
is easy for me
my imagination easily runs wild
walking up dark uncertain stairs
sensing a sinister stalker
spying around the corner─
 
standing beneath tonight’s endless night sky
I recall alien lights at the end
of the farm’s lane
endless dark
frightens me
but I know it’s not an impossibility
to be visited from an unknown entity
 
……in fact, did you know….
UFO sightings date back to
biblical times
the Book of Ezekiel
describes a mysterious ship
appearing in the sky
 
…and did you know…
Allied fighters used the term
“foo fighters”
to describe odd circles of lights
that appeared flanking their planes
during combat─
 
in the dark
my legs often tremble
transfixed beneath a midnight sky
feeling a nebulous, hypnotic connection
wondering when or if ever
I will visit a new mystical place
that will swallow me whole

Barb Edler
24 August 2022
 
 
 

Margaret Simon

I’ve never worried much about aliens, but I love your poem and how you describe your fear as “feeling a nebulous, hypnotic connection.” And how you insert the facts with “…and did you know…” makes your poem clear.

Scott M

Barb, I really enjoyed how you crafted this “fear” throughout your poem from the “endless dark[ness] in your first stanza to your “trembl[ing] legs” and “a new mystical place / that will swallow [you] whole” in your last stanza. And, like Margaret, I enjoyed how you inserted your facts with “…and did you know…” (Also, thank you for teaching me where the band name came from, too! I had no idea “Foo Fighters” was a term linked to UFOs.)

Sarah

Barb,

I think the echo of dark from the first stanza to dark in the last stanza is beautiful. And those ellipses seem to work as little specks of light or dark leading into the new knowledge. So cool.

Sarah

Glenda M. Funk

Barb,
We love to scare ourselves and be scared. Have you read Stephen King’s essay on the appeal of horror films? I did not know about UFOs in biblical times or the Foo Fighters, a rock band to me. Love the rhyme and the set up to the information you shared. Fun poem!

Jennifer Kowaczek

Scott, I enjoyed your bio and even more your prompt. Thanks for the humor and getting me to think about some everyday items I thought I knew well.

Cashews Grow HOW?

I sit at my desk,
munching on cashews
enjoying the lite touch of salt.
Curiosity gets the best of me
Google “how cashews grow”
An image of an apple tree
fills my screen — APPLE TREE!?
No, wait — that’s a CASHEW
peeking out from the bottom!
Who knew about the Cashew Apple?
Today years old
I learned
my favorite nut
grows out of an apple!

JenniferKowaczek August 2022

Margaret Simon

Really? Who knew? I knew they were tree nuts but I don’t think I’ve ever thought about what the tree might look like.

Barb Edler

Jennifer, your voice and narrative are vivid and carried me to your final line; revelation. Well played:)

Scott M

Jennifer, Lol, I know, right? And I love your craft decision to upper case “APPLE TREE!?” and “CASHEW” to illustrate how preposterous this truly is! Thanks for sharing with us this poem about your “favorite nut,” the cashew.

Sarah

Jennifer,

So loved being witness to this discovering and am happy to now share the knowledge with others — “my favorite nut.”

Sarah

Christine Baldiga

Jennifer, my friend JUST went to a cashew farm and shared that info with me! Yes! Who knew??!! So many cool mysteries in our natural world.

Kim Johnson

Jennifer, what an amazing thing! I never knew this. cashews come from apple trees – so something like cashapps.
Love how you used all caps to show the surprise!

Anna J. Small ROSEBORO

Scott, you tickle me! Claiming characteristics of Morgan Freeman. Well, you got me thinking of free men of color after the Civil War. One of our family uncles was a National Park Ranger at the MLK Center in Atlanta. It was today years ago (really 10 years ago) that I learned he had served as our ancestors had. Thanks for the opportunity to share.

Service, then More Service

The Buffalo Soldiers didn’t monitor buffalo
After the Civil War.
They were African Americans who moved West
Former military men among the best
Who later became National Park Rangers
Mainly because they were not strangers
To hard work in the out of doors.
They survived those historic wars.

After their tours of duty in the Army,
Many moved their families to territories out west
Before that part of the continent
Even became states, it was settled by the best.

These brave men of color helped to liberate
Men, women, and children from legalized slavery.
We now acknowledge their bravery.
A century later, we now celebrate
The valor of men who fought for freedom
Then spent their lives in service
Working as the first National Park Rangers
So folks could be free to visit and not worry about the dangers.

Buffalo Soldiers.jpg
Margaret Simon

I love how you used a rhyming form to inform us about these rangers. Cool!

Scott M

Anna, thank you for teaching me today! I loved seeing the link you’ve crafted for us between the National Park Rangers and the brave Buffalo Soldiers, how one became the other, continuing a life of service to fight “for freedom” and to protect those around them. [It was also exciting to learn that one of your uncles was a National Park Ranger (and a member of this brave lineage!)]

Stefani B

Scott, thank you for always entertaining us with your wit. I felt the need to add some comic relief in my poem because you are hosting today.

j was the last letter added to our
what we know of as the enjlish alphabet
 
they’ve got to be joking
it entered our languaje half a millennial ago?
how did previous jenerations
judge the jovialness of the juggernauts colonizing the world?
or ja-ress in jackets, jeans, and jewels?
how did they communicate without the juxtaposition of
jackpot, jellybeans, jackrabbits, joysticks?
 
it must have been the jurisprudence of the time
oppressing the letter j from thrivinj
 
today, let’s celebrate you, jay

Jennifer Kowaczek

Stefani this is lovely! I love learning about words, letters, grammar.
Have you read the book Ella Minnow Pea by Mark Dunn? Letters get removed from approved use as the story goes on — it is a wonderful book (and short, super quick read).
Thank you for this lesson about the letter that starts my name!
jennifer

Scott M

Stefani, thank you for teaching me something I didn’t realize I needed to know! I was, like, “what do you mean J was the last letter … [furious Googling — Joojlinj]…huh? I didn’t know that.” Lol. You’re right, the letter “J” needs a “celebrat[ion]” after coming from its rather humbling beginnings of just being a fancier way of writing the letter “I.” And you’ve given it that with your quite jubilant offering today! [I loved the line “how did they communicate without the juxtaposition of / jackpot, jellybeans, jackrabbits, joysticks?” The sheer incredulity you expressed in it! Lol.]

Margaret Simon

I love the word play in your poem. Such a wonderful mentor text for writing about a letter of the alphabet.

Anna

What fun to consider how your poem would look and sound without the letter J. I wonder what my middle name would have been?

Ann Burg

Such a sweet and tender poem takes an unexpected turn which reminds me of former students who brought most every discussion to unexpected (sometimes preposterous) conclusions that always made me smile. I’ve often experienced a Today Years Old moment but not being able to recall any recent ones, consulted your links.

Harvest Mice 

Well I didn’t get too far
down the linked-list 
(being startled at number #1,
where I discovered
a hungry harvest mouse
may crawl inside a flower,
stuff himself with pollen,
and curl to sleep). 

And I thought to myself,
how much easier
than building a cave,
sealing the cracks,
and sewing a sack
from tattered strands,
it would be 
if I were simply a harvest mouse, 

if I could only find a flower big enough
to shelter one Today Years old.

Jennifer Kowaczek

Ann, this is a great poem. I enjoyed how you transitioned from the mice to yourself.
Thank you for sharing your poetry with us.

Scott M

Ann, this is delightful! I love the warm cozy feeling evoked by your words: “a hungry harvest mouse / may crawl inside a flower, / stuff himself with pollen, / and curl to sleep.” As your end reflection notes, I agree that there would be such a peace to be had “curl[ing] to sleep” and “shelter[ing]” within a flower. Thank you for writing and sharing this with us!

Margaret Simon

I’d never think to want to be a harvest mouse, but how sweet an image you created of one curling up inside a flower, drunk on nectar.

Glenda M. Funk

Ann,
Theres something lovely about the thought of hiding in a flower. And I wonder how big or small the mice are. Are they hiding in sunflowers? Your poem needs to be a picture book. I have visions of the illustrations and the little mouse story in my mind. Wonderful, playful poem.

Fran Haley

This is a thought-provoking treasure of a poem, Ann. The image of the little sleeping mouse is so endearing – surely startling to discover. Love the lines of reflection about how much better a place a flower is over a cave, etc. and then the longing in that last line. Just lovely – it tugs at the heart.

Kim Johnson

Scott, your bio is a winner. I love this.  I was buying it – hook, line, and sinker, thinking, “Oh my gosh, I’m going to have to watch Driving Miss Daisy again tonight,” when I realized.  You had me.  And then, I thought, “Only Scott would think of such a brilliant bio!”  And your poem – – equally as witty and hilarious!  Thanks for hosting us with this clever prompt today.  I can’t wait to learn new stuff today. 

Duds

I was three months ago years old

invited to a retirement party
where everyone was bringing 
scratch-off lottery tickets

I phoned my colleague:
I’m buying a five-dollar gift ticket~  
want one?

she did

but wait, she said, when I got back
to the office with two tickets,
what if they’re actual winners
and we give them away?!? 

we thought of her six kids’ tuition
and the cars they all need
and her burned garage roof
where the lightning struck it 
and mourned a little 
for the untold fortune 
under the silver gunk

another colleague overheard us

all you have to do is scan them
to see if they’re winners

and so she did

satisfied they were duds,
we dropped them in the
congratulatory gift bin
then
cheered with great hope
as she scratched

Jennifer Kowaczek

Kim,
Your poem reminds me of doing this exact act of purchasing scratch off tickets for the ladies I worked with at the day care. I forgot to include the tickets in the Christmas cards so I let everyone chose their own. Down to the last two (there was an extra for myself), my coworker debated for several minutes … I ended up winning $400!

Scott M

?! What? This is a thing? Kim, your poem is great! There is so much packed into this brief “morality play” of a poem. I’m so conflicted reading along (and learning that you can just “scan them” to find out if they’re really winners before you give them as gifts.) Your stanza about “her six kids’ tuition” and the “burned garage roof” is woven so artistically into your text that I want your colleague to win — not some nameless retiree I don’t “know.” And then I flip-flop and go, but they are gifts, too, shouldn’t the receiver of such gifts have a chance to win, too. And then the “cheer[ing] with great hope / as she scratched” what you knew were “duds” that you “dropped” into the “congratulatory gift bin.” This is so complicated and nuanced and human. All wrapped up into a poem about scratch-off lottery tickets. So good! (And truth be told, I felt better realizing they were a gift that “everyone was bringing.” This mandatoryness of the gifting process would have had me “scan[ning]” too! Lol.)

Barb Edler

Oh my, I am laughing as I can totally relate to the emotions here. Duds is the perfect title! Your closing lines are hysterical! What a fun poem!

Fran Haley

Hilarious!! What a great story-poem – I can see it all happening as if watching a movie. I had no idea about the scanning… that’s amazing!

Kevin Hodgson

I may not have done this one the way the prompt asked, but … I guess that’s par for the course. — Kevin

There is indeed
a note not named,
singing in the hole
between B and C

and while its place
is neither flat nor sharp,
its voice is borrowed –
half step up,
half step back –

we fall into the space
where there seems a gap;
the ear hears
what the piano lacks

Kim Johnson

Kevin, I have a feeling I’m going to be glued to this post all during lunch and this evening when I am home from school, saying over and over again, “How fascinating.” My ear hears what the piano lacks. I never knew.

Ann Burg

I love this poem, this unnamed note singing in the hole. I love the thought of falling into the space where there seems to be a gap. It reminds me of Hogwart’s Platform 9 3/4 ~ that’s where the magic is!

Scott M

Kevin, this is a pitch-perfect handling of the prompt! You have me opening up another tab and googling “unheard notes between…” So, you’ve successfully done your job! Lol. And you wrote a cool poem to boot! I love the physicality that you’ve imbued into your discussion of the sounds: “in the hole,” “its place,” “half step up, / half step back,” “we fall into the space / where there seems a gap.” (And, of course, that final rhyme of “gap” and “lacks” is music to my ears!)

Fran Haley

So fascinating – I am going straight to the piano to check this out and see if my ear hears what the piano lacks. Love this phrase: “Its voice is borrowed.”

Fran Haley

Scott, I was so amazed by your movie awards and to learn that you are also Morgan Freeman (LOL)! Too fun – as is your poem and this prompt. Completely cat-ivating. 🙂 Oh how much we really do have to learn about about ourselves and why we do what we do…and right, who can compete with a parasite?? On that note, here’s my poem, also about a sort of brain takeover. Thanks for this utter delight of a prompt today.

Inside the Skull

When I was
ten or eleven years old,
supermarket tabloids
ran story after story
of UFOs
and alien abductions.
I half-believed 
these ridiculously weird
narratives…
at today years old
I sit at my kitchen table
looking through the window
at a hummingbird
hovering in midair
like an otherworldly thing,
looking right back at me.
I wonder what it’s thinking…
this tiny iridescent creature
that mesmerizes me,
takes over my brain,
controls me for hours,
compelling me to read
everything I can
about its kind
which is how I learn
a hummingbird’s tongue
is so long
that it coils
around and around
its tiny skull
and rests behind
its ever-bright
and curious eyes
-ridiculously
unbelievably
weird,
I say to myself
as I lose all track
of time…

Fran Haley

-managed to capture this photo of my hummingbird’s tongue. Here’s hoping it posts ok…

C9F723F2-A889-4876-9E02-7A71A6E9E589.jpeg
Kevin Hodgson

OMG — yes, to hummingbirds being other-worldly … this book by Sy Montgomery was amazing to read …

Kevin Hodgson
Fran Haley

I bought that book this summer, Kevin! I hung on every word. I love Montgomery’s work – she is an excellent storyteller and clearly understands being possessed and controlled by these fantastic creatures.

Kim Johnson

Fran, whether bird eggs on your front door wreath or hummingbirds at your feeder – or angels – you are a master of the winged! I had no idea that a hummingbird’s tongue wrapped around its skull and rests behind its eyes. How fascinating! I need to read that Montgomery book. I was mesmerized by The Soul of an Octopus, so I know I would love the one about hummingbirds that I can actually see a lot more often! I love how you’ve told the story and woven your words in your creative way.

Scott M

Yes, Kim! I second The Soul of an Octopus. What a cool, “mesmeriz[ing]” read!

Ann Burg

Well, I knew that hummingbirds have long tongues but I’m today years old when I found out that their tongues are so long they coil around and around their tiny skulls. What a visual! I did not know that and now I want to learn more about these amazing creatures. Thanks, Fran, for a lovely poem and yet another way to lose track of time!

Scott M

Fran, this is wonderful! Thank you for helping us see that our natural world is so much more “otherworldly” than we know. There is so much to learn right here! So many “ridiculously / unbelievably / weird” and “mesmeriz[ing]” truths right here in front of us. (Not that I’m against exploring outside our world, either, though, being a huge sci-fi fan myself, I also truly believe there is so much we can learn right outside our door (right at our birdfeeders, say). [As a side craft note, I love how you situated “around and around” on the same line, letting me hit the verb “coils” on the previous line before continuing the motion with “around and around.” The speed of the two arounds is quickened for me when they are on the same line.]

Susan Ahlbrand

Scott,
I absolutely smiled (in the wee hours of the morning, which is unusual) when I saw your face was the one doing the prompt. Leave it to you to come up with something so quirky and fun and limitless. I absolutely love how you turned the idea on its head and took the idea of cat love and turned it toward your wife. And with such a funny ending. So well done. I’m not sure I can craft a good poem from this, but I know I am looking forward to reading what others generated!

Scott M

Susan, Lol. I know, right? I’m looking forward to learning a lot today!

Linda Mitchell

What a wonderful prompt! Thank you for the Kay Ryan link. I’ve spent a good amount of time reading her beautiful work. I love how she is brief but bold…almost like there isn’t anything there until you realize later after you’ve clicked onto another link.

Scott M

Linda, I’m excited to “find out” more about Kay Ryan! Thinking and researching about this prompt, I found her poem, and I really enjoyed it! I’m so glad there are other poems of hers that you’d recommend (and that I need to discover)!