A Message from Sarah
Welcome to day 29! Please, watch the video message from Sarah Donovan, Ethical ELA founder, which includes some exciting Verselove data. Click on the button below for information about a Verselove Open House/Open Mic. Let’s come together, Saturday, April 30th, the final day of VerseLove, to celebrate: 2:00 PM – 4:00 PM CT. Share a poem. Share a highlight of your experience. Say hello. Zoom link: https://educationokstate.zoom.us/s/6028777200
What a Poem Can Do Poem with Glenda Funk
Glenda is an NBCT with an MA in English literature. She taught English and speech 38 years and worked as an adjunct instructor for Idaho State University and the College of Southern Idaho before retiring in August 2019. As part of the NEA Better Lesson Master Teacher Project, Glenda developed a full-year curriculum for teaching seniors, which is free on the Better Lesson website. She’s thrilled to call herself a published poet with poems featured in Bridge the Distance and Rhyme & Rhythm: Poems for Student Athletes, for which she owes Sarah a huge debt of gratitude. Glenda blogs at https://evolvingenglishteacher.blogspot.com/?m=1
Inspiration
As we near the end of this month of writing and celebrating poems and poets, let’s think about what poetry does for us, for our world, and let’s imagine the possibilities of poetry. Let’s do that in a poem.
Darius V. Daughtry’s magnificent poem “what can a poem do?” begins with a series of litotes naming myriad things a poem can’t do and concludes by imagining what poetry can do and does. It’s these possibilities poems offer that bring me hope.
a poem cannot save a life
cannot Luke Cage your skin
fend off a dark alley attack
cannot make you less woman
or less poor
or less Black
and
thus
treated equally….
You can read the entire poem and hear Daughtry’s recitation of it here.
What can a poem do? Think about the issues that concern you. Perhaps make a list. Next, choose a form for your poem. Daugherty names the sonnet, but maybe you prefer a villanelle, a free verse, or some other form.
Process
Compose a poem in which you celebrate what a poem can do and imagine the possibilities for more poetry specific to an issue or concern. I know you’ll find much inspiration from the poetry you’ve written and read this month.
Glenda’s Poem
in the company of poems
–after Darius Daughtry
when i am alone
in a crowd
silenced by
muted stares
circling the fringe
standing in a corner
sitting by myself
at a table
set for six
a poem cannot
take a seat
or share a meal
or toast the occasion.
at such moments
i spread poetry
through my mind
like butter
on bread.
i feast on
the poets words
dine on meaty
metaphors &
drink the nectar
distilled in time’s
eternal etchings.
these fill my soul
quench my thirst
a collection of poems
keeps me
company
passes time
makes peace
amid chaos
in a poem
i can be a
canary in a
coal mine
who echos
Cassandra’s
siren song.
a single poem
lets
me say
the quiet
parts
out loud
lets
me live
on rainbow
spectrum
as a glass
menagerie in
a mirrored hall.
–Glenda Funk
March 31, 2022
As always, find inspiration with this prompt or go your own way today and write as the poet muse inspires you to create.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. 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.
Also, in the spirit of reciprocity, please respond to at least three other poets today.
A poem.
A piece of writing that can build us
Heal us
Feel us.
And somehow has the ability, to wield us
With the ability to build up courage
A poem can dance on the reader’s tongue
It can read those feelings that are unsung
Poems are mirrors that may reflect one’s own life
And bring out all the hidden emotions you may carry throughout day and night
A poem can save us
A poem can rhyme
A poem can do many things
And can tend to make us shine
But a poem isn’t always the joy
It can be hard truths
A truth that rolls off your tongue
No matter your cruth
Poetry is a fine thing, that may dare to dream
And you could never know what truths it may bring
And all this, just for understanding poetry
And still, what can a poem do?
Now that may be all up to you
– D.H
March 25th 2024
What can a poem do?
Such an interesting question for you
A poem can make you laugh or cry
A poem can make you fly
A poem can be a friend when you are alone
A poem can make your mind blown
A poem can make you think
A poem can make you sink
In a ship full of sailors
A poem could help you fix your failures
A poem can bring us together despite the fight
A poem could make it right
A poem could end the fight
A poem can change the world overnight
The power of a poem is endless
A poem could leave you friendless
A poem could bring peace
Or it could make the fight increase
A poem is very powerful
Oh, but how it could be so hurtful
A poem could end friendships
So be careful not to let them slip
What Poems Can Do
This Is A Haiku
About What Poems Can Do
They Bring Out Feelings
Which You Had Forgot
They Make Your Emotions Raise
To Above The Clouds
Who Knew You Could Feel
So Many Things Unreal
Is What Poems Do
A poem can be like a king
Like Jeter in his teens
A poem can make anybody’s day
From people being born small
Most of them fall
But a poem can wake people up
Like Judge who woke up and became a star
Like Woods who can make a par
A poem can change people’s lives.
My Poem.
Bullets fly through the air
Knives pierce the skin
but poems are for the win
Poems can do many things,
like make pigs fly with wings
Poems may not stop bullets
but they can stop the person shooting the gun
and give him some gum.
Poems might not stop war
but maybe a man robbing a store
Poems can stop people from fighting
so they can pick up a pen and start writing.
A poem may only be a couple of letters
but they can change the world for the better.
A poem can’t save a life
It can’t stop a knife
It can end or mend strife
A poem can hold
A poem can give stories untold
Even allowing your memories to unfold
Maybe make you live the moment feelin like you turned into gold
It can either bring or wash away the cold
It may let in “that” light
It may make you feel some delight
It may make you do what’s right
Maybe it might even give you a fight
a poem cannot start a life
nor can it cause it an end
a poem cannot start a car
like when you need to get to a destination
a poem cannot stop a shot but
by writing one you shoot one
Swoooosh
A poem cannot stop someone from exciting chaos
but it can help find the site
its time to put ink on paper
instead of blood on the streets
Its time to gather around and STOP IT
and words may be what solves it all.
Once we speak our words what a world it will be
A world without gunshots but people shooting for the stars.
A poem is powerful
And its meanings are bountiful
Words can show emotion
just like the ocean
they save many lives
with words that are deep
But don’t be scared
if you start to weep
A poem cannot turn back time
or prevent a hate crime
but it can make you feel heard
And always reassured
Poems can have powerful words
Some may say they are for nerds
or as shallow as curbs
but they can be bright like the sun
they can be so amazing and fun
even for someone
that doesn’t understand the true meaning
But when you do it will leave you screaming
the Power of the poetry is is insane
it will leave you thinking you were living in vain
the realization will hit you like a train
the themes of poems are up to you
but if you never read them you will never have a clue
So stay curious and understand that they power of poem is true
The pressure of writing a poem can be scary
However, there’s no need to be weary
It’s important to always remain merry
The fun of writing a poem can be fantastic
The mere thrill of it makes me static
It makes me feel quite sporadic
The thought behind writing a poem can be demanding
However, all poets are still standing
You have to make sure you’re not ranting.
Writing a poem is similar to life
With ups and downs
With smiles and frowns
What can’t a poem do?
A poem has a meaning
but wont leave you grieving
it can give you a power
and can make you feel on a tower
a poem may not save
and may make you feel brave
but don’t feel down
because you will look like a clown
a poem might be scary
but in the end you will feel merry.
but it may also be strong
and may not be long
a poem may not include
but it can certainly make you have fortitude.
poems do not bend
but will not be the end.
Amazing
a poem is more than just words
it is a collection of things you have to say
you have to say these things because
without them
there are no words
and a world without words
is no world i would like to live in
i would not like to live in it
because it is no cool
and i like cool things
it is not cool if the world is not cool
so i will not live there
i like this world
because this world is cool
and words are cool
so yeah
this is very good
When life is tough
No matter how rough
Words on a page
can bring you to a new stage
Poems brings love,
that brings joy to all
they bring wise words
that let no one fall
The power of a poem
can be shown throughout
the world is run by poems
with out a doubt
A poem can change people’s lives
although it can’t revive
It could give you an afterlife
poems could bring you to Christ
And even save you from beehives
Poems could also inspire
It gives us time to desire
can even make us admire
although it can’t save fires
it could prevent liars
A poem is like a king
Like Lebron in his teens
A single moment may seem
as if it was just a dream
dominant or not
just like 2016
Golden in the land
as if it was a band
With all of the lights
there will be no fright
In the rain
stops it the pain
Like a hood
it shows all good
Just like a car
youll go so far
Just like the best
we always fine in the west.
A poem can’t change your decisions
create revisionist history
a mystery of fate
that we can’t escape
but have faith
Poems can heal the broken chains
the messed up picture frames
of links to the past
though the pain lasts
don’t look back
let it attack your present
leave a permanent remnant
of what used to be
Clearly you must let go
know that you’re loved
even when rough
sleep peacefully in your covers
reminisce with your brothers
because it will soon be over
Good job
A poem can have important matter
They may even make you sadder
You can read one while you gather,
Or alone if you rather
For not all poems are known,
Try not to be overthrown
Like someone sitting on a stone
Do not postpone reading a poem-
Maybe try while murmuring a low hum
Make sure to understand the meaning
Although some are so dumb
And look past poems
Be sure to read line by line
Because it might come as a sign
That you are all that shines
All good things will come in time
So keep trying to climb
Its okay to take some downtime
Because It’ll be a long time
So in the meantime realign
Your in control of your own storyline,
Therefore you will be completely fine.
I really like the rhyme scheme, great job
Oh what a poem can do
The emotions they take you through
They can make you feel blue
They can make you feel you
They can make you feel sappy
Or even happy
They can help you get a grip
When you begin to slip
They can make you remember
All the way back to September
And bring back your smile
Even for a little while
Good job very professional
Words of Meaning
Poems seem merely as just words
Words that can’t kill Birds
Words that can’t stop death
Or even take away our breathe
Words can’t just build house
Or enlarge a mouse
Nor can they bring back the dead
No matter how much we dread
However words can change lives
And can even be said to our wives
With words we express emotion
Not to create commotion
But instead sometimes to express our devotion
With poems we tell a story
Stories filled with glory
The words make us happy
So let’s pop open that drink of Pepsi
a poem can change lives
a poem can change people
a poem can take away knives
and use words just as lethal
a poem can not save a life
but it can change it for the better
a poem can change the world we live in
so we don’t slowly shatter
a poem can’t change the world
but it can change the people in it
and restore the vision that was once blurred
so we don’t have to use a bullet
a poem can tell a story
and help us from not overflowing
so we don’t have to soak up in glory
to stop the feelings of decomposing
a poem can’t solve our problems
but it can help us find solutions
and help us keep our customs
although we stay disillusioned
a poem can’t make the world less scary
or turn it to one where fear does not consume us
or spare us from the dispare awaiting us
but it can change the way we perceive their treacherous commentary
A poem can’t stop abuse.
It couldn’t stop him from choosing fake friends over real ones.
A poem can’t stop bullying.
It couldn’t stop his friends from being mean to him.
A poem can’t get you out of a relationship.
It couldn’t stop him from staying with his horrible friends,
and neither could I.
A poem can’t stop you from texting.
It couldn’t stop him from telling me about how sad they made him.
A poem can’t stop stress.
It couldn’t stop his stress over wanting to leave but not knowing how
A poem can’t give you courage.
It couldn’t give him the courage to stand up to them.
Oh how I wish it did.
If a poem stopped him he would have stayed with me.
If a poem stopped him I would still be with him.
but a poem didn’t
So if a poem were so great,
why couldn’t it stop our heartbreak?
a poem isn’t able to change the past,
rewind time
change what’s already been done
but it can help change us for the better
make us rethink what we’ve done,
and make what we can, better
a poem speaks more than we can
it can turn hate into love
sadness into happiness
confusion to reassurance
and make our world better
the more we write
the more we can get through things together
the more we help each other
the more we can get through things together
a pen holds more significance than we may think
allowing us to speak what we think
without the judgment of others
who would know where we could be
if we all put more effort into things that leave an imprint on our life
Yes, poems are very powerful!
A poem cannot change something that already happened
Heal your wounds
make someone less saddened
stop the terror in the world
A poem cannot change how you look
It cannot cure your sickness
a poem is not a book
even if it seems like one
But a poem can change lives
it may not give you wives
but it will tell a story
And make you feel all warmly
a poem can express emotion
may make you cause a commotion
Even though a poem is just words
poetry could save lives
My Poem
A poem can not solve all your troubles
Your ink may flow, but can’t solve all struggles
A piece of paper, pen in hand
You begin to write, but life’s puzzles still stand
Line by line you slowly start to realize
The truth lies within your mind
A piece of paper and excitement within,
You start to write and your thoughts begin to spin
Poems are only limited to your imagination,
So think of each poem as your own creation
Thank you for reading!
Amazing!
Who knew a piece of writing was this strong
no weapons
no fighting
no physicality
A mere pen has the power to change the world
Everyone in it
A little piece of plastic and a piece of what used to be a tree
Brings back loved ones
Opens gateways
And brings your imagination into the present
Violence freezes in the presence of a poem
Still like a statue
Frozen like the bag of peas in my freezer
Poems purify the world
Cleansing it from the evil on the outside
Ready to make an impact
Wonderful piece of poetry
A poem can bring you back to the past
it can hit you with a nostalgic blast
the things a poem can do are very vast
oh the memories a poem can cast
Poems can also inspire
in people they light a fire
They bring people’s spirits higher
Reading them is dire
Didnt like it
muy buen
A poem can do many things
It can make you think of the dead
especially when their name is Fred
and they like bread,
a poem can give you inspiration
to chase your dreams
it can give you faith for our lord and savior Jesus Christ
even if you have lice,
but sometimes they aren’t nice
so then you drift away from Christ
a poem can strike fear
even if the end is near
so just lay down and drink a beer
Good lad
A Poem can do a lot of things
But it can’t make your ears ring.
It doesn’t give you superpowers
And it doesn’t help you take a shower.
Poems can’t help you in a literal sense
But they help you make your head dense.
Poems tell you to find yourself,
even if you are deaf.
Goood king
A poem can express emotion
It can’t make you hungry
It might strike fear
It might tell a story
A poem can bring peace
Can change lives
Make people happy
Make them inspired
A poem can save a life
But it can’t stop a bullet
It can calm you down
It can teach you lessons
so good i loved it king
A poem can do many things
It can make you think of the dead
especially when their name is Fred
and they like bread,
a poem can give you inspiration
to chase your dreams
it can give you faith for our lord and savior Jesus Christ
even if you have lice.
Glenda, I’m submitting late, as yesterday turned out to be crazy! So I don’t know if you’ll see this, but here goes. Thanks for today’s prompt, and I loved your poem!
A poem can’t solve all worldly issues.
Can’t take the place of countless tissues
catching all our countless tears.
A poem can’t placate all our fears.
Can’t erase the hate we give
Can’t teach the stubborn how to live.
Can’t solve world hunger, clothe the poor
But a poem can, sometimes, be a door
And make a temporary through…
Relieve what, daily, we go through.
Bring together myriad friends
Old ones, new ones, once again –
Even through the worst of times –
To share our meter, verse, and rhyme
And keep us, daily, motivated
Keep artistic longings sated
Build poetic siblings here
Share our sorrows, fears, and cheer.
So thank you, Sarah, for this chance.
Engaging in poetic dance,
we get to better know each other
through Verse Love: our symbolic mother.
Wendy, I love, love, love this poem. The lines build into a crescendo, and the rhyme is lovely as it keeps us marching along, beat by beat, word by word. I hope Sarah sees this lovely tribute to what she has grown and nurtured in this spence. ❤️
Glenda, it’s been such a pleasure writing with you! 🙂
I’m running behind as well, Wendy, so I’m happy to see a poem here for me to respond to! I was caught up in so many of those lines in the first stanza since I see those as some of my very own “failings” that cannot be mitigated by the power of the poem. It’s a bit sad in a sense, but then, I need to hold myself accountable for those transgressions and do my own work to mend the future behavior. The poem is indeed the door that can take us where we want to go, and I LOVE that you close on “symbolic mother” – uniting us as a family. A chosen family. Thank you, Wendy!
Oh, Wendy, what a lovely thank you poem. What a poem can do, indeed. You shared so many lovely ways. I readily agree!
On the what a poem can’t do front, I loved:
“Can’t take the place of countless tissues
catching all our countless tears.”
Thank you!
Dear Poet Friends,
Thank you to all who wrote poems and who commented today. I’m in awe of the myriad ways you interpreted the prompt, especially all the things poems can’t do that you named.
Several of you mentioned sharing the mentor poem w/ students. That is particularly gratifying to me. Angie returned to share her students’ responses. I hope you’ll read her latest post.
I’ll check in the morning for late arrivals as I don’t want to miss a single line of your brilliant, inspiring poems.
Yours in #VerseLove
Glenda
♥️
Thank you, Glenda, for this prompt. I have many occasions this month to reflect on poetry and what it really means or consists of. I consider myself an extremely fledgling poet, so other peoples’ work has been very helpful to me, exemplars to learn from.
What a Poem Can Do
A poem cannot rewind time
nor can it repair fractures left unmended;
it cannot gloss over what causes us pain.
But, a poem can reveal new perspectives
cause us to inspect further
those things we love… or hate.
A poem can help us
find our breath,
a refreshed rhythm.
A poem offers us
the permission to
bare our soul to others
who share our pain
and our triumphs,
who hold space.
A poem is not a band aid
nor a panacea,
after all, it is but words.
Nonetheless, a poem
crafted honestly
has unmeasurable power.
Charlene, I only began writing poetry regularly in 2018, so I understand those fledgling poet nerves and hesitations. I bet you’re lots younger than I and will have many years more to write. Keep putting pen to paper—one word at a time. Your poem is a welcome hug this morning. I particularly love this verse:
“A poem is not a band aid
nor a panacea,
after all, it is but words.”
These words say so much about what words are and are not, can and cannot do. I hope you’ll share your April 30 poem early so others will see and affirm your brilliance.
Wow, Charlene. Indeed. I was nodding all the way through this. Poems often have me catching my breath in the wow! as much as finding the breath to live on. And your accounting here pretty much sums up how I am walking away from this month of writing with you all – I think I just went “check, check, check – did that, yup, did that” – ! A kind of humorous accounting for this whole experience, but also so true and soul-felt. And we will keep on poeming on, won’t we? Thank you!
Charlene, very powerful indeed what a can and cannot do, and how it has “unmeasurable power”
This is one particular truth I have experienced and greatly appreciate:
Glenda, that dramatic recitation of Darius’ poem is a gift! There is almost nothing more to say! In just about two minutes, he’s demonstrated the power of this genre to capture and disperse so many concepts and emotions and still leave us inspired to write our own!
Thoughtful of you to include it among our resources to consider today. Thanks.
Good job this is very nice 🟥
Thank you for a great prompt that makes us think about this space and poetry that connect us.
What a Poem Can Do
A poem cannot bring you back
And promise us carefree tomorrow.
It cannot rebuild ruined buildings
Nor can it feed a family.
A poem cannot protect me from pain
And help me forget what happened.
It cannot make me invisible or invincible,
Nor can it free sky from dark clouds.
But a poem can comfort my soul
And bring me joy and hope.
It can help me feel, see, and hear
Words dancing on a page.
Leilya, these final lines are profound truths:
“It can help me feel, see, and hear
Words dancing on a page.”
I truly believe understanding poetry empowers our understanding of other genres. Elaine Show alter’s ideas about teaching literature has had a strong influence on my pedagogical philosophy. Thank you for sparking this memory. Wonderful poem.
Oh my gosh, Lielya – I wish you could have seen my reaction when I hit that final line! It was like I had just eaten the most delicious food ever! How this form can take us from a kind of dark place to such joy is incredible, and you nailed it! “Words dancing on a page” seriously made me want to get up and dance shouting, “Yes!” I love the line. “Nor can it free sky from dark clouds.” because isn’t that just one of our great frustrations, not being able to control nature! But also sometimes our own internal dark clouds as well. “It cannot make me invisible or invincible.” I know, but I do indeed feel it comforting as well as fortifying my soul. I NEEDED this poem this morning – thank you so much!
I love that you noted a poem can comfort your soul-it connects so many of us to our past, present, and future.
Blessings
Thanks, Glenda, for opportunity to reflect on the WHY of poetry.
To elevate the soul
Poetry is necessary
So says Edgar Allen Poe
Yep, poems make me want to go!
The poems of others about their mothers
Put me in the mood
To gives thanks for times gone by
Sharing good times over hot spicy food
Our poems show the magic that occurs
When we set teens to writing, manipulating words
When I am down, poems lift me up
Sorta like sipping from a cup
Of rich ginger lemony tea
Reading poems, writing poems, hearing them read
The lyrics of hymns do it for me
Like looking in the mirror
They help me to see more that I can be
Poems welcome us into the fold
Like Poe says, they elevate our soul.
Anna, I’m looking forward to your poetry reading tomorrow. I’m cheering these words:
“Our poems show the magic that occurs
When we set teens to writing, manipulating words”
I know you’ll understand when I tell you my love of poetry began in the Psalms, but I did not realize it until years later when I studied the Bible as literature. We had a class in my high school. And is that photo from Antelope Canyon or another slot canyons in Utah?
Anna, your words flow right into the depths of my heart. Poetry is like music to me, a song sung differently by the leader depending on the way the words flow. Your words: “The lyrics of hymns do it for me
Like looking in the mirror
They help me to see more that I can be” resonated with me. Our words show how we truly feel and I think poetry helps us sink deep within our innermost parts, the shamed ones, vulnerable ones, overly joyous ones, and pulls out the whys and wheres of who we want to be.
I love to listen to music. I used to sing in a group, but it became too daunting and overwhelming. I also sang in the choir and on a praise team over the years. I definitely miss the music, but I can sing all day long in my car and not have to be judged. Thank you for this fond memory!
How did I NOT know this quote from Poe? What a perfect sentiment to tie in with this form, Anna. I love how some of that elevation comes from the interactions poetry allows us to have with one another. You’re right that so many times reading here, I am transported to memories I had long forgotten, and that kind of connection is fortifying, as is the student/teacher relationship. And you are so right – I continue to be amazed at the kinds of writing students can create when they are given the opportunity and a good prompt and mentor poem that speaks to them. And now, I’m going to make that cup of lemon ginger tea while I finish out the final day of poetry writing for the month. Thank you for this joyful interpretation!
The Power of Poems
A poem cannot foresee
your future
A poem will not dry
your tears
A poem will not fit you into a
category of people
On second thought
A poem can bring the inner joy that
you were looking for
A poem can pull the most hidden feelings from
your heart
A poem can liberate
your the constant heaviness
A poem can serve as a reminder of
your previous battles
A poem can heal your soul’s wounds and nourish
your compassion
I wonder the level of nourishment
we could achieve by knowing what
poems do for us
Carolina, you’ve offered much evidence of the power of poems. I wonder the same thing you express in your final lines.
So much to think about here, Carolina. A poem will not fit you into a
category of people really gave me pause tonight. I also tried to write about the constant heaviness that you’ve captured here.
Carolina, I was just writing about this under Anna’s poem and I haven’t even made it to yours. This is so true! A poem can pull out what is buried deep within. Your last stanza: “I wonder the level of nourishment
we could achieve by knowing what
poems do for us”. I wonder that as well. We can be fed the good stuff if only we would just let poetry be the healing we need. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for your poem, Carolina! I love the line “A poem can heal your soul’s wound and nourish your compassion.”
I love how you left the reader into questioning themselves and there lives. It brings up the intensity and power of the poem. LOVE IT.
Glenda, I loved the example poem you provided and the model poem from Darius V Daughtry. It got me thinking in all sorts of directions! I want to return to this poem from another perspective in the future.
a poem will make
students sigh,
roll their eyes,
and stare off into
the open sky…
but wait
until the gateway:
the first poem
that relates
–even just a bit–
it always feels
like fate.
that’s when they start
to get it
and that moment is
what makes it all
worth it
Rachelle,
YES! This is true both in reading and writing poems. It does feel like “fate”when suddenly they realize their crazy teachers aren’t so wacky after all! I love converting kids to being poets after they’ve sternly told me they hate poetry. Perfect!
Oh, Rachelle! I have seen this moment in the classroom. You’ve pictured it perfectly. The gateway!
I love this!!!
Rachelle, I believe every word of your poem w/ all my heart. The rhyme in the first verse crates a fantastic rhythm and beat that contrasts w/ the sighing, rolling eyes, and staring we see from students
”until the gateway:
the first poem
that relates
–even just a bit–“
This makes all the effort to grow poets and nurturers of poetry.
Rachelle, we must not give up! Even those eye-rolls will be eyes widened with they finally experience that moment when they get it. Once they figure out that not all poems rhyme and they can be as free as they want to be, it’s definitely magical. Thank you for sharing!
“but wait
until the gateway:
the first poem
that relates
–even just a bit–
it always feels
like fate.”
this is EVERYTHING.
Oh Glenda…what a lovely prompt! The only problem is that I read so many wonderful pieces that I scared myself wordless. Once I regrouped, I think I found my way to somewhere.
What a Poem Can Do
A poem can peel back skin
revealing he heart
beat
beat
beating
A single word
can taste like childhood
licking up
soft-serve
in the swirl of memory
Leave
space
to breathe in
space
to breathe out
tapping the melody of
today
against the rhythms
of all the yesterdays
A poem can paint the world
in every shade of blue
until color
explodes
in new opportunities to see
@kd0602
Kim, oh my! This sentence in your intro is how I feel when I read others’ poems before writing and posting my own, which is why you’ll find me here early almost every day:
“I scared myself wordless.”
I love the musicality in these words:
“tapping the melody of
today
against the rhythms
of all the yesterdays”
And I’m tasting the deliciousness of ice cream in your words as a memory forms. I’m inspired. Thank you.
Kim, what a fabulous ode to poetry. I was sucked in right away– that first stanza is so well done! I love the connection to the heart and the line breaks emphasizing the rhythm: “revealing the heart / beat / beat / beating”.
Kim, your idea of a poem breathing was the first thing that came to my mind when contemplating this prompt. Off to write!
Great Job Kim!
What A Poem Can Do
By Mo Daley 4-29-22
A poem cannot remove the weariness in my bones
A poem cannot prevent a party-ending thunderstorm
A poem is not a dog lick on my face when I return home from work
A poem does not alert me to the arrival of the ruby-crowned kinglet
But
A poem lightens the burdens I carry
A poem makes me laugh out loud in an empty room
A poem heals the injuries I didn’t even know were still lying dormant
A poem allows me to breathe
Mo, I hope that thunderstorm wasn’t a recent event, That midwestern weather can create problems this time of year. These lines feel like medicine for the soul:
“A poem heals the injuries I didn’t even know were still lying dormant
A poem allows me to breathe”
Im taking a deep breath of these truths, of your gorgeous words.
Mo, the parallel structure of your poem emphasizes the limitations of poetry as well as what it can do. The “but” serves as a visual fulcrum for this lever. This is the line I connected to the most: “A poem lightens the burdens I carry” this is one of the reasons why I write.
Mo,
I love the reflections of the first four lines in the second half–lovely symmetry! My favorite line is “A poem allows me to breathe.”
I love the line “A poem is not a dog lick on my face when I return home from work.” It is definitely an act of love that speaks by itself. I also love the line “A poem heals the injuries I didn’t even know were still lying dormant.” I agree, poems have the power to do this without us even noticing it.
Thank you for a thought provoking prompt. I’ve had a wonderful month of poem writing and reading.
A poem cannot give you
the courage to speak in a crowd
or give you the skills to play an instrument.
A poem cannot be the solution
to eliminating poverty or
the ultimate fix for climate change.
A poem is not a shield to hide behind
or a place to retreat when the world
is being just a bit too unctuous.
But a poem can let you speak
from your heart and express
the joyous music of your soul.
And a poem can expose the truths
of the world in language that paints a
vivid picture of reality and injustices.
A poem can allow you to speak
with a veracity that speech impedes and
can silence those who are insincere.
Cara, yes, we’ve had a fantastic month of poetry. Come Sunday I’ll have withdrawals! Im captivated by this verse:
“A poem is not a shield to hide behind
or a place to retreat when the world
is being just a bit too unctuous.”
People often try to hide behind words, but that’s not what poetry offers. There is truth in poetry, often more than in prose. That’s often the appeal, isn’t it.
Cara, what a wonderful tribute to poetry and what it can offer. While in college, I often wondered “is writing enough?” Writing can’t fix climate change, but is it enough to write to expose the truth? I love how your poem explore these questions. The last stanza made my jaw drop: “A poem can allow you to speak / with a veracity that speech impedes and / can silence those who are insincere.”
Cara, This stanza articulates the reason so many cultures honor poetry for so many generations
and a poem can expose the truths
of the world in language that paints a
vivid picture of reality and injustices.
Such insight may not appear in news sanctioned by governments but they almost always show up in poetry – the lyrics of songs, the ballads in plays, the rap on the streets, and often in the poetry of our students.
Great usage of words in here. Affects the poem in a positive way. GOOD.
Thank you for these beautiful poemS today, Glenda! As well as the additional resources like your blog and the Better Lessons website. Treasure Trove! Unfortunately, I’m not having a cheery poem day, so y’all get watcha get outta me today. And yet – isn’t that ALSO what poetry can do?!
a poem can frustrate
the hell outta me
words falling like bricks
soundlessly into a well
the most beautiful
and adored creature
who will not acknowledge
my existence
I refuse to beg for attention
and walk away
(but remain bitter
at the lack of validation)
even when I feel like
I got it right
lay down the best
jazz hand lines ever
satisfaction is fleeting
a synapsis moment
amongst a million
and the fireflies
are just coming out
each a word to a line
to a poem I need to
run after in the dark
to capture
Denise, I don’t know the specifics that prompted you poem today, but I am grateful for it. Each line expresses a feeling I’ve had, not just in trying to find the right words to write, but also in terms of the human interactions, the times when
“I refuse to beg for attention
and walk away
(but remain bitter
at the lack of validation)”
Those “jazz hand lines” take on metaphorical meaning as I think about the ambiguity in each line of your poem. And yes to your opening note: This, too, is what a poem can do. Thank you for following your poetic muse today. I love your poem.
Denise, your poem is so vivid and descriptive! I believe many people would agree that the line “but remain bitter at the lack of validation” is so relatable! Thanks for sharing <3
Denise,
I so relate to your not “having a cheery poem day” attitude. Sometimes we need poetry to help us process a day. There are too many good lines to choose!
sorry had to write another one.
what your poem did
(a letter to Darius V. Daughtry in response to “what can a poem do?”)
Darius, I shared your poem with my students,
some who had never “studied” poetry before,
many who had never written a poem,
all who had never been exposed to anything close your a poem like yours.
We discussed the speaker of your poem:
someone who grew up in a difficult neighborhood
where the pen was certainly not “mightier” than the sword
and they raised their fists at the injustices mentioned.
They examined the shift in the poem
when the speaker stops talking about poem cants and turns to poem cans.
Or “isn’t it ironic?”
The same students who groaned when I said we are starting poetry all snapped n clapped after hearing the realness of it
and wrote:
“A poem can’t help us physically but it can help us mentally.”
“I’ve never read a poem like this and I like how relatable it was.”
“It makes you think what kind of world we’d live in if people wrote more.”
“The speaker’s tone is confident and powerful it sounds like he’s giving a speech.”
Your poem opened my students’ eyes to the power of poetry
carried them out of their ennui and lit some sort of spark inside.
Thank you.
Angie, I am so glad you shared the Daughtry poem w/ students, and I am grateful you’ve shared w/ us their response to the poem. This is what this space is about, isn’t it? When I write the prompts I try to approach the task with both students and educators in mind. Knowing the poems, the prompts, are arriving in classrooms is the highest compliment.I love your student responses. Thank them for me. Are you going to have them expand their comments into longer poems? If you do, I’d love to see them. I believe poems are like books: Students are readers and poets when they get the right one in their lives. Now I need to wipe some tears from my eyes. Thank you for this poem. It’s a bonus and a blessing.
Aww, thanks for the detailed and genuine comments <3 🙂 their comments were from journal entries they wrote about this poem. I shared it at the beginning of our unit – back in the beginning of April. We are now done with poetry and my students have written their “anthologies” with 5 poems. Next year, I could totally encourage them to write their own version of this poem or a response to the poem, in poem form, about how they felt about it. Sooo many ideas! If anyone feels like giving my students comments, feel free: https://padlet.com/angelicabraaten/v22olpfaedgzbm3d.I’m sure they’d be psyched if they knew published authors and teachers who they don’t even know are commenting on their work! I’m also only sharing because I have so much credit to give to ethicalela and verselove/openwrite for influencing the way my poetry unit works now.
Angie, I love that you revisited this with your students and came back to write. Bravo for all of them too, with their lovely responses. One of my favorites is:
Hey, Glenda! Been looking for this one all month. I love the prompt. There’s so much that poetry can do – I could go on and on, but I chose to keep it short. My poem is inspired largely by your lines:
Here goes:
a poem can, in
a few words, show you the shape
of my bleeding heart
Saba, in these few short lines, in fifteen words, you have articulated what I experience through poetry. I’m not a very open person, and I don’t reveal much about my personal life, but poems do “show you the shape / of my bleeding heart” and my grateful heart, too.
I love the spareness. In an economy of words, you expressed a bounty of feeling.
I don’t want to chance running out of steam on a Friday when I have too much to do after work. I decided to write at lunch time so it’s a work in progress. I loved this prompt. Hopefully, I can read more poems tonight.
Inspired by Glenda’s Poem: in the company of poems
Poetic Company
In the company of poets
I marvel at the confidence
Of their prose and rhymes
The smooth and swift flow
Of words alive on earth
In the company of poets
My poetry unveils truth and pain
It bleeds deep red ink
Inside my bones
But never leaves a scab
In the company of poets
Poetry opens pathways
Toward stories far and wide
The pages call me to speak
And bear witness to our collective voices
© Stacey L. Joy, 4/29/22
Oh, I love this, Stacey. The collective voices, the poetry that shares pain but doesn’t leave a scab is perfectly captured in your poem. I am glad you found time to write today and share such a deliciously rich poem! Thank you!
Your poem embodies what it mentions.
”The smooth and swift flow
Of words alive on earth”
what lovely flowing lines!
Stacey, you honor me w/ this poem. I love the tweak from “poems” to “poets” and the community and friendships we have here in this space. I love the way others’ poems surprise me and invite me to write about things I never thought I’d write about and in ways I never thought I’d try. Yes,
“The pages call me to speak
And bear witness to our collective voices”
whether those voices be in print or in virtual spaces. How lucky we are to have found ourselves “In the company of poets.” Blessings to you.
I love the truth in “collective voices” and your second stanza about unveiling truth and pain and bleeding but leaving no scab. Outstanding! I am honored to be in the company of poets.
I never thought I’d write a poem after
high school
like wishful thinking and dying love
scrawled across pages about a boy
who didn’t know I exist
might somehow become
a way of life, a
saving of life.
But now I do
retrieve a canvas shoe scene
and wounded faith exhaling
and Oklahoma wind and
quirky cuticle tearing.
How easily poems find
my hands
beside the wishes and regrets
of a life
Now I do
relive the breaths of past
a door I closed
that only I can open,
but in a poem I can
live what-ifs and try on
possibilities in between
existence.
After and all along, a poem
will find me.
That is what a poem
can do.
Sarah, Wow, the powerful potential of a poem is truly amazing. I love how you show a shift about how you once saw poetry and connect that with your shift with place and time. Poetry can save a life! How you can choose to open a door you closed through a poem, and the endless possibilities of the what-ifs. I loved the end. I often feel a poem literally found me. Your poem shares poetry’s ability to capture everyday moments of life and personal history. It literally breathes just like your poem. Provocative and stunningly beautiful poem!
Sarah, I love your poem.
These lines resonate with me!
I really love the way this poem reads, Sarah, especially,
To me, this sums up how poetry seems to work through all of us.
Susie, your poem and Susie’s are holding hands in this space. I think your comment to Susie is spot on. Both poems capture the opportunities to write and imaging the “what-ifs” and “the possibilities.” Most days I think about what life would be like w/out poetry, especially since 2020. I want to tell the poems awaiting my pen I know they “will find me,” and I know “That is what a poem / can do.” It’s kind of like a poem takes a chance on us, too.
Sarah, I so, so, so relate to your first stanza. I am so glad that you didn’t stop writing and I am so grateful that you coax the poeta out of us here in this space. I appreciate how you’ve characterized poetry as a way of existing, surviving, and living out our multitudinous selves.
A CHANCE
Sometimes a mirror,
often a prism,
casting new color
and angle
to replayed snapshots –
a poem is a chance.
Layered in robes
draped across truths,
dusted in powders
that remind us of Chantilly,
scented with pheromones of wishing –
a poem is a chance.
Veiled in lace
gracing the aisles of love
or taut as a tightrope
between lost options –
a poem is a chance.
Steeped in the bile of rage,
scratching the back of the throat,
bubbling crimson
under the weeping scab
of defeat,
a poem is a chance.
Whispering across the strings,
through the reeds
and humming in the shell
of a drum
till we lay ears to Earth
to hear her sing
through the silence –
a poem is chance.
A chance
to transport
what is inside you
to outside you —
a poem is that chance.
by Susie Morice, April 29, 2022©
Beautiful poem, Susie! I love the repetition. I agree, a poem is a chance to transport what is inside us. Love the image of lace gracing the aisles of love. Brilliant!
Susie,
I think we were writing our poems at the same time today. I love thinking about that — all of us poeming in different places but at the same time.
“Whispering across the strings” is a lovely image. I am remembering the video of you singing and playing guitar (a couple years ago?). And then in “till we lay ears to Earth” offers such a scene of intimacy in song and silence.
I just like being in your poem.
Thank you,
Sarah
Susie, your poem today has such ethereal language. I love the repetition of “a poem is a chance.” I’m grateful for all the chances embodied in the last verse:
“A chance
to transport
what is inside you
to outside you —”
And the change in wording in the last line from the indefinite article “a” to the adjective “that” means everything to the poet looking for chances to write poetry to notice the poetry in myriad moments. Those delicious opening metaphors “a mirror,” and “a prism” remind me to look sideways and askance to see each chance. Wonderful poem, my friend.
Susie, this is pure heart and soul:
Steeped in the bile of rage,
scratching the back of the throat,
bubbling crimson
under the weeping scab
of defeat,
a poem is a chance.
it reached out and grabbed me – that bile of rage that I have felt before is described here perfectly. Oh, that bile – steeped in rage. I remember that moment. And it wasn’t pretty, but he lived…..
The whole poem is a masterpiece. But these lines are beyond awe and joy!
Love this! I need to take more chances with my poetry.
?
Susie, this is beautiful! I love the repetition (and insistence) that “a poem is a chance.” And I agree 100%! This is both raw — “Steeped in the bile of rage, / scratching the back of the throat, / bubbling crimson / under the weeping scab” — and gentle — “Whispering across the strings. / through the reeds / and humming in the shell / of a drum / till we lay ears to Earth / to hear her sing / through the silence.” Just beautiful!
“A chance
to transport
what is inside you
to outside you —
a poem is that chance.”
Susie, that is exactly what I have discovered this month about poetry. I feel totally out of my depth when I consider writing poetry, but this month has taught me how writing in poetic form allows me to express emotion not only through word choice but also the way I arrange the words on the page.
Glenda — Thank you for an inspiring prompt today. And so fitting as we wind down April 2022. It was fun to think about the power of the poem today. Your rich sensory images (that butter on the bread — I’m making yeast rolls as we “speak” — well, that is marvelous. And “saying the quiet parts out loud”… YES! YES! YES! Perfect. Terrific mentor! Love, Susie
Sarah — Thank you so much for all the hard work you do to expand our poetic palettes through this wonderful community. All the poets here have been so rich and full of voice and experiences that we truly could not savor any other way. Three cheers for Sarah. Hoorah! Hoorah! Hoorah! Love, Susie
I concur! Hooray for Sarah! Awesome video, too, Sarah. I was surprised to discover how many countries visit this site.
Standing and clapping with you! Yay for us having the best leader/teacher ever!
Cheering for Sarah! ?
What Can Poetry Do?
A Poem can tell the truth
will allow a student
to share the horrors
that might be going on
at home
a poem can be the beginning
of an idea for a drawing
that shows an outdoor scene
with flowers, grass, sun, and the sky
Students can sit together and free verse
ideas then create shared poems that
express their love for anime
and TikTok videos, and their
hate for gender bias and broccoli
On Open Write days, I’m giddy yet
slightly nervous about pulling a poem
from my cerebrum that matches
what I’m thinking
that says what I’m feeling
that conveys what’s in my heart
and explains
what I’m trying to say
but since poetry matters
I persevere.
By Seana Hurd Wright
April 29, 2022
Very nice to open my Open Write site and see this poem. I love how poetry can inspire students and could really relate to your second stanza since I am a visual artist. I am also giddy about and nervous about coming up with a poem each day for a month and must admit I have missed one or two days. You share this all so well. So glad you perserve.
Seana, I’m celebrating your poem and all the possibilities it embodies. I too share the worry I’ll not be able to find words to say to express how the prompt inspires me, and I worry I’ll not say what I mean in the comments. I know I have lots of typos. Then I feel guilty if I haven’t read and commented on all the poems, an increasingly difficult task as our community grows. Your third verse is my favorite because it so well articulates all poetry can do for the individual and for the community. I want to visit your class and watch students
“sit together and free verse
ideas then create shared poems that
express their love for anime
and TikTok videos, and their
hate for gender bias and broccoli”
That’s the power of poetry!
Seana,
We are in the same classroom, clearly!!!!!
Love it!
Glenda, I couldn’t imagine this month of poetry coming to a close without inspiration from you! This is so wonderful. Thank you for introducing me to Darius Daughtry; I must read more. Your poem celebrates the true feast of poetry writing; I love how you find it within yourself/all alone –
Thank you for this!
do you know the feeling
do you know the feeling
of being in the midst of woods
hiking a new trail
on a clear soft day
noticing the most precious wildflower
no bigger than the tip of your small finger
stretching to say hello
then
seeing that there is not just one
but many many many
twinkling smiling greeting you
so you stop to take a photo
this tiny pink seduction
leaves you lost in thinking
adjusting
light shadow size frame angle
dazzled
swept away
enchanted
finally
looking up
feeling
momentarily
oh so satisfied
while simultaneously
realizing
your hiking partner
is gone
no longer there
evaporated
you
are
all
alone
with breeze and birds
suspended
floating
as if caught within a puff of air
not before or after or there or there or there
just
now
absolutely
at once
here
this is what a poem can do
give
you
breath
solid ground
awareness of awe
(hiking footnote –
this magical muse of a moment
was followed by a
friendly familiar whistle
through the trees
here I am, hon,
here I am
letting this poet
know
they were not
alone
forgotten
abandoned)
Maureen, what I love most about this poem (there’s lots to like, but what I love most) is that you’ve captured that suspended moment when the world drops away and you are suspended in beauty “as if within caught in a puff of air”. I love that line and I so love that moment! thank you!
What a beautiful poem about capturing the moment and being transformed in that instant.
I read “seeing that there is not just one
but many many many
twinkling smiling greeting you” as a metaphor for the experience of reading the poems that appear daily during this month.
Oh, Maureen!
Yes, yes!
give
you
breath
solid ground
awareness of awe
In so many ways, breath!
Thank you for this beautiful moment and hiking footnote, hon.
Sarah
Maureen — This is so lovely…that caught-up moment when something of grace and beauty unfolds… I loved going there with you. And the loving reconnection with that “familiar whistle” made me smile as well. You describe so eloquently the role of the keen observer …every poet has that keen eye..every poem deserves that lingering attention. Wonderful! Susie
Maureen, how do I articulate the beauty in your poem, the way I feel reading the conditions for finding the poem? I see you on that hike. I recognize myself in the stopping and noticing and photographing, in the discovering I am alone w/ the muse. Perhaps this is the universal experiences of poets who love nature. I know this, too:
“this tiny pink seduction
leaves you lost in thinking”
This is the experience your poem brings to me. It is a “magical muse of a moment,” but I must head on down the trail and discover other poems sprouting among this meadow.
Maureen, I love that you’ve compared the poetry to photography: I often worry that taking a photo, especially of something like you’ve described above which is more of an sequential experience than a moment in time, pulls me out of my experience but it also serves to take us back. Your description of the noticing first the one small flower which leads you to the many is so well-done—I love these moments in nature.
Glenda, thanks for this opportunity to reflect on the ways in which poetry enriches our lives.
Poetry can’t
Poetry can’t put him in a car and
pay the driver to send him your way
to apologize but
poetry can sit with you
on the lonely, concrete stoop and
hold your hand,
run its fingers
through your hair,
remind you that you are
loved and held.
Poetry can’t change who they are nor
change how they treat you but
poetry can pump thick, salty streams of
air into your sails,
fan your neon orange, cracklin’ embers,
crank up the volume of
the car stereo on the ride home.
Poetry can’t move the clock’s hands
forward nor backward but
poetry can still time:
entangle and strangle
you with lines of imagery
ropes of rhyme and
strands of spirit.
Laura, this is absolutely breathtaking. Just gorgeous. How poetry holds us so tenderly. I am not sure my favorite lines – I have reread this several times, with this powerful sense of ‘yes, yes – this is what poetry does for me.’ Thank you for this!
Laura,
I don’t know what to say here. Every line moved me deeply. Every scene was perfect in what a poem couldn’t but then could do. The “air in your sails” and the “fan” and the “still”. Maybe that is it. That poetry can “still time”! Maybe that is what it is for me, but I haven’t been able to articulate it until — there – -your poem. Thank you.
Cheers,
Sarah
OOO, Laura — this is so rich! RICH! I love the can and cannot of poetry. I can feel that soothing poem that realigns you on the stoop.
And this:
is so vivid and true!
All of this poem rocks…the clock hands neither back or forward…ah yes. Super poem. If I were still in the classroom, I’d surely use this poem to share with my students as they set into a deep dive into writing and reading poetry. Super! Susie
Laura, the sailing metaphor is gorgeous.
“poetry can pump thick, salty streams of
air into your sails,”
This makes me want to be on the ocean! I see this imagery in the end, too:
“poetry can still time:
entangle and strangle
you with lines of imagery
ropes of rhyme and
strands of spirit.”
Exquisite language here. Thank you for this gentle breeze of poetry. It’s sublime.
Laura, your poem feels like a warm hug. Thank you for this!
Indeed it can.
Glenda, what an amazing prompt to almost end the month of Verse Love. I am deeply moved by your poem, and absolutely love
“lets
me say
the quiet
parts
out loud”
Thank you for sharing your powerful poetry and being a constant welcoming presence in this space.
A Poem Is Fierce and Gentle, Too
a poem is not
iron chainmail
protecting a fragile heart
from savage slaughter
nor Excalibur
its magical power
pulled from Arthur’s stone
a poem is an anvil
forging words
finely wrought to
cleave evil lies;
keep hope alive
a poem is not
a crimson battlefield
reeking with brutal flies
devouring mangled gore
a poem is Beowulf
wielding his fearsome blade
defeating evil; finding meaning
in a meaningless world
a poem is triumph
a cleansing rain
a red-hot inferno—
creating fertile plains
a poem is
a precious cheek
tenderly kissed
a sweet release
a warm embrace
a place to heal
an open window
to words drifting free
on a lilac breeze
Barb Edler
29 April 2022
Such balance and beauty. We live in a corrupted world, a “crimson battlefield” but “a poem is triumph, a cleansing rain”. That’s why we are all here, isn’t it? You’ve said it so well! Beautiful!
Barb, there is such beauty in the contrasts you have painted here. I love the idea of ‘a poem is an anvil” – how we need its strength and resilience, to “keep hope alive.” And, we need the softness too, the tender cheek, the open window. Just beautiful!
Barb, this is a gorgeous poem. I’m thinking about the classical references and the movement from concrete, historical references to abstract, soft ideals and the way poetry through the ages has softened us and even passed histories and narratives down to us in ways that offer models of behavior. I see this in
“a poem is Beowulf
wielding his fearsome blade
defeating evil; finding meaning
in a meaningless world”
You always find such unique, unexpected images to share via your poetry, and I have these wish I’d thought of that moments time and again when I read your words. Today it happened again. Bravo!
Barb!
What! That first stanza knocked me breathless:
a poem is not
iron chainmail
protecting a fragile heart
from savage slaughter
I love the balance that Ann commented on – -from the battlefield to the “open window” and “a lilac breeze.” Such beautiful and true imagery.
Peace,
Sarah
Ooo, baby! This is loaded with gorgeous truisms about how we look at poetry. I love this! I like the “nots” and the switch to Beowulf and the big ideas of that…lovely. My favorite lines are:
…especially as we soak up the spring…lilacs are my very favorite scent in spring…and I need to go plant one…. I love them too much to have a big ol’ yard without that poetic scent! Hugs, Susie
Glenda, I shared “what can a poem do?” and Collins’ “Introduction to Poetry” at the beginning of my poetry unit this year. Daughtry’s poem won favorite by far. My kids really appreciated it and I *LOVE* it! Thanks for the prompt.
A poem cannot shelter you from a storm.
It will not feed you when your stomach growls in pain.
It’s not Siri when you’re lost and afraid.
It cannot reach its hand from the page and wipe the tears from your face.
But a poem can be a gift
written in a book
or on a website
that you come across;
a guide that’ll make you feel you’re not lost.
It’s like a friend,
like home.
A hug that fits just right,
a connection you wouldn’t have never known otherwise;
A truth.
And it’s not a time travel machine
but maybe the closest thing,
if you listen to a memory
and put words on a sheet
it could transport you to a scene
and help you process feelings
like a therapist
for those who can’t talk,
won’t talk,
don’t talk.
Just listen
to yourself
and comprehend
what comes
and write your own.
Angie, I adore the way you show a poem’s potential and all that it is and can do. The end is perfection!
Angie, I love this so much –
Angie, I love the pragmatic mixed with the idealistic in your poem, and I giggled at “It’s not Siri when you’re lost and afraid.” I think often about poetry as therapy, as a way to say without saying, and so I love the ending here:
“for those who can’t talk,
won’t talk,
don’t talk.
Just listen
to yourself
and comprehend
what comes
and write your own.”
I’ve only been writing poetry in earnest since 2018, and I see how this writing has helped me the way a therapist would if I were in talk therapy. Later I’m gonna ask Siri to give me some poetry and see what she does. I have to know!
Thank you Glenda for the prompt, the incredible inspiration and your after poem. Scrolling through all of the poems today, and taking in all of the creativity of today and the past 29 days is both humbling and inspiring. Wow at this whole process!
What is this thing that
is at the tips of my fingers?
What is its power,
its worth?
It is Derrida’s
impossible gift.
It gives me time
while erasing it.
It is the circle of exchange
that pulls me away
and keeps me sequestered
in the foolish hope of crafting
a point of connection.
An exchange to make us
both richer.
Gift me your attention
for a moment.
There is a something
for you to claim.
A thing of beauty, perhaps
sculpted abstractly
not of alabaster, or wood,
or ice, but of words that
put us fleetingly in
conversation.
For which I’m thankful.
I want to hug this poem. You express so well how I feel about this community. We are all richer for the connections and conversation. Thanks.
Dave, I am also wanting to hug this poem as Margaret said. I love the way you describe it as a thing of beauty but not made of “alabaster” “ice” or “wood”. The power of poetry comes through with your crafting and hoping to make a connection. I know I feel far richer each day when reading the beautiful poetry that has been written throughout the year and this month in this gracious place full of amazing poems and poets. Gorgeous poem! Thank you!
I love how you share how poetry is for both writer and reader, the community,
Just beautiful!!
Love this, Dave:
Dave, magnificent opening w/ the questions leading to an answer:
“It is Derrida’s
impossible gift.”
If I recall my Derrida correctly–and it’s been a while since I read him–I’m seeing the ambiguity, the impossible task of saying exactly what a poem is and does, which for me is the brilliance of the ending here:
“A thing of beauty, perhaps
sculpted abstractly
not of alabaster, or wood,
or ice, but of words that
put us fleetingly in
conversation.”
The qualifier “perhaps” that adds to the shifting meaning of poetry you’ve captured here w/ the concrete images of “alabaster, wood, ice” against “words.” I’m going to reread this poem because I know I’m missing insights I want to capture in my mind. Fantastic poem.
Thanks Glenda!
I was definitely going for ambiguity with the Derrida reference, but specifically, the impossibility of the gift (at least my understanding of it) is about the idea that a gift will always be transactional because the giver is getting something out of the giving, therefore it can never be a selfless act, which complicates the idea of gifting. Kinda like writing a poem–it’s definitely community building, but the joy and satisfaction one takes in crafting the poem and the expectation of an audience necessarily negates the possibility that it is a selfless act, even if it is intended to be so.
Love this circle of exchange that we have witnessed this past month. You say it well in that this poetry makes us richer.
What a Poem Can Do
A poem doesn’t wash my dishes
fix my breakfast
or bring back the loved ones I have lost
But a poem lets me see inside
frees my emotion
heals my hurt
A poem doesn’t make the bed
wait in line for gasoline
or pull weeds in the garden
But a poem can soothe my soul
calm my nerves
clear my brain
A poem doesn’t fill my stomach
paint my walls
or drive my car
But a poem can say how much I love you
make your hand reach out to mine
and join our hearts
Susan, your poem started out so like mine in thinking that a poem can’t bring back loved ones lost… but oh yes, a poem can bring healing and honor to memories and so many things that you capture here! Poems DO join hearts – VerseLove is proof! I so enjoyed your uplifting lines.
Ahhh, Susan, your poem literally brought me to tears. I love how you describe the everyday things a life is full of that a poem is not, but how it does have the power to soothe, clam, and clear one’s brain. Your ending is divinely sweet! Outstanding poem! Thank you!
Susan, I think you have found the yin and yang of poetry w/ the alternating verses. I do wish a poem could wash dishes and pump gas, but poetry isn’t particularly pragmatic. It’s this ability to
“say how much I love you
make your hand reach out to mine
and join our hearts”
that makes us fall in love with poetry. Perhaps it would not touch us the same way if it were to take on daily chores!
Susan — Right and rain…truer than true! Poems do just these things. I think I need to find a poem, though, that’ll paint walls! LOL! Be healed and of joined hearts on this spring day! Susie
I love the “a poem doesn’t” “but a poem can” structure, beautiful!
Glenda, What a wonderful prompt for me today. I love your skinny poem form and this comforting stanza: “a single poem
lets
me say
the quiet
parts
out loud”
I’m reminded of Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem, “Valentine for Ernest Mann” where she writes “poems hide…”
Poetry hides
in an Instagram image
of sunrise
a small songbird
the trickle of water
over a streambed.
Poetry hides
in the calico that lost its tail
in the woman named Angel
who sits on the ground
to feed the lonely cat,
hand out longing for trust.
Angel laughs in poetry.
She gives me a Styrofoam cup
of cut roses aflame in her hand.
I find poetry
in the things I touch
and in your forever love.
Absolutely stunning, Margaret – both the observation that poetry hides everywhere, in everything, and also in these images of the tailless cat and this Angel who laughs in poetry. I see the “cut roses aflame” in the Styrofoam cup as if they are right before me. A breathtaking and true poem that I so needed to read this day, somehow.
Ah, yes, Naomi’s poem is exactly what this reminded me of (didn’t see the mention the first time I read through your poem). I love the description of the woman feeding the cat and how that’s poetry itself. Beautiful.
Margaret, what an amazing and gorgeous end to your poem. I agree that poetry hides in the things we see daily. Awesome poem!
Margaret, it’s true one poem often takes our minds to another one. We can then find the poem we wish to write in the other poem, the one that entered our mind, as you have done today.
Margaret, this is beautiful! I love how you’ve picked out the poetry from all around you. Poetry really does hide in the obvious things, if we only look.
Valentine for Ernest Mann is another favorite of mine–and I love the idea of poems hiding, and being on the lookout for poems. I love where you found poetry today!
I love this prompt, Glenda and your poem is exquisite. I love your feast and meaty metaphors and the nectar that fills your soul. Just an all round beautiful poem.
a tangle of thoughts
imprisoned in words
that can’t stop blood
flowing in the streets,
can’t drown
the widow’s wail
or the orphan’s cry.
can’t magically cast
the world in gold.
a tangle of thoughts
imprisoned in words
that can’t take back
the planter’s whip
can’t undo
apartheid’s hold,
can’t vanquish bigotry.
and yet,
have you ever been lost?
have you ever held back tears
in a crowded mall
or the last pew
of an empty church?
did someone see you,
touch you lightly on the shoulder
and maybe smile?
a tangle of thoughts
imprisoned in words
that thread by thread,
knot by knot
could recast the world
in gold.
Whoa, Ann- this is incredibly powerful. The sense of loss, pain, injustice – the touch of comfort from someone who sees and cares – the tangle of thoughts that can be loosened and given voice…Oh a mighty, mighty thing, poetry – and this poem.
“have you ever been lost?
have you ever held back tears
In a crowded mall”
ohh yes, and many other places, and reading things like this, that shares my pain, helps. Thank you!
Thank you for casting the world in gold, Ann.
Ann, your poem is exquisite. The repetition of
“a tangle of thoughts
imprisoned in words”
suggests a paradox in that a poem both captures and releases our thoughts and words and captures them on paper. I love comparing a poem to the gentle touch of someone who cares. Your questions make us notice the cathartic touch of poetry. Lovely poem.
Oh, Glenda . . . this is such a wonderful inspiration for a poem. I shared Daughtry’s poem with my students this morning to a very powerful reaction. Your poem hits me in the heart. If only the people in groups knew how complete we feel when we are “alone” with our poems. You capture that so well.
What a Poem Can Build
I see the world through poet eyes
Feel it through a poet heart.
Maybe that’s why
my eyes see such sadness
and my heart feels so much pain.
A poem can’t
feed a hungry child,
make a parent provide,
or pull someone out of poverty.
A poem can’t
convince us to put the screens down,
engage with others face-to-face,
or relish in eye contact.
A poem can’t
hold a therapy session,
do marriage counseling,
or prevent trauma in the first place.
A poem can’t
start the chemotherapy line,
perform CPR,
or create a new vaccine.
A poem can’t
enact legislation to make it harder to own a gun,
intervene and stop the trigger from being pulled,
or stem the pain that makes a person want to.
A poem can’t
right the world’s wrongs
but it can complete people
and fill empty hearts.
It can build
empathy
and compassion
and awareness.
And those things
can prevent the wrongs
from happening
in the first place.
~Susan Ahlbrand
29 April 2022
Susan, all those trials, wrongs, and sufferings… no, poetry cannot fix it all (this was in my own thoughts early this morning) although it can help one through…oh, how right you are about it building empathy, compassion, awareness to prevent wrongs! Such an empowering observation, poetry being able to “complete people/and fill empty hearts.” -This, I believe.
Poetry – like gratitude, like forgiveness – is transformative. Beautifully conveyed.
Susan, you hooked me w/ the first two lines:
“I see the world through poet eyes
Feel it through a poet heart.”
I wish this were true of all for reasons you give at the end of your poem;
“It can build
empathy
and compassion
and awareness.”
These words are so true and why we need poetry in our classrooms as argument and exposition about the things we know students need to learn. This is excellent framing for all the things poems can’t do.
Susan — Hear, hear! I am so hearing every line here. It is quite amazing that we can look at this litany of horrors and woe and then recognize that something as gentle and simple as a poem can flip all of this on its end…if only we all graced the pages of poems as we do here this month. Yea! I love your truth! Susie
Thank you for hosting today, Glenda. I love the mentor poem you selected by Darius Daughtry. I haven’t been able to listen to the poem, but after reading it myself I know it is going to be amazing! There is nothing like listening to the authentic voice of the words captured by a fellow poet.
Your lines inspire me: “i feast on
the poets words
dine on meaty
metaphors &
drink the nectar
distilled in time’s
eternal etchings.” This is so delicious and satisfying to my soul.
Here is my poem. It’s a cross between an acrostic, free verse, and…? I started typing and didn’t go back until I finished. Only then do I remember what the task was for today. So, staying true, I went back and added my pieces. I could’ve kept the deviating, but I felt that by going back and inserting in the few places I could what a poem could and couldn’t do, it further enhanced the message I was trying to convey.
Racism and Discrimination Can Go To Hell
Reality shows
A poem cannot end racism so alluring glares
Corner thoughts
In search of
Souls who wonder why
Many take them.
A poem cannot end discrimination, but laws might not be ignored due to
Negative views in Prime Time.
Disdain for truth seekers
Disrupt the false narrative.
Innermost feelings escape
So facts are checked,
Creating turmoil within the sects
Rising up to choke the voices once silenced.
Imagine their surprise when their powers collide.
Mutilation and retaliation create cosmic chaos
Instead of harmonious humanity,
Never mind the many hearts crushed.
A poem can spark change as a result of hatred and envy.
Talking it out is much better than
Ignoring an infectious wound.
Obvious solutions worth noting
Never sought out by the Powers that Be-
Cuz they’re ill-advised.
A poem can recognize the unconcern for the disenfranchised.
Negating views create no
Gleaming dreams and aspiring careers,
Only more second-hand leftovers, regurgitated
Throw up thrown into the faces
Of those who just want to be treated like five-fifths
Humans with mid-sized cars or suburban tractors
Established in bungalow, ranch-style, and contemporary houses.
Jessica… this poem…the pain is raw and real. I am in awe of it, that you lassoed such lines with an acrostic this way. I am still rereading. A poem cannot end racism or discrimination but it can sure reveal it in a profound way, call it what it is. Right here. I am thinking of what your intro said about there being nothing like listening to the “authentic voice of the words” captured by a poet – and I imagine the power of your voice reading this. It is searing to me, just hearing it in my brain’s own voice. Poetry speaks; it WILL be heard. Again – I am awed.
Thank you so much for your words Fran. I am definitely thinking about publishing this one. You know…outside of the blog. It’s too good to hold in.
Jessica, I am applauding your title. Constructing an acrostic with so many words takes real skill I know I do not possess. It’s really impressive. Inserting those lines about poetry draws attention to the ideas, and they do work. Saying, “A poem can spark change as a result of hatred and envy.” reminds me of something I read years ago about the importance of legislation to move folks to change. If we waited on them to set aside their bigotry, we’d never move away from any form of racism; we’d still have Jim Crow laws and redlining. We must insist on equality. Fantastic poem. I’m a big fan of poetry as both argument and a mode of humanizing people’s lived realities. You’ve done both with this brilliant verse.
It was an interesting process Glenda, thank you! Maybe we need to get these lawmakers a taste of poetry and how words…true words, hurt words, heartfelt words…have power!
Jessica — I love the strong voice here and the importance of this message! Rage on! Every line is packed with how important it is for all of us to pay attention and to keep fairness and dreams alive. A poem is a “spark” indeed! Hugs, Susie
Thank you so much Susie for this! I feel so empowered by this. I blame my complicated mind for the genius flowing out. It looks like that spark is ready to ignite the world.
Good morning my friend, Glenda! I’m thrilled about your prompt and absolutely adore your poem. I wish I was off work today so that I could start writing right now. I held on to these lines and they made me smile:
Happy Poem in Your Pocket Day!
?
Stacey, I’ll be here when you arrive w/ what I know will be a fabulous poem. Have fun w/ those budding poets, you Joy Scholars, and Happy Poem in Your Pocket Day to you, too!
Glenda, thank you for this prompt as we round out the month. I love the possibilities of
“a single poem/ lets/ me say/ the quiet/ parts/ out loud.”
—————–
“A nonet quilt for the poet (and audience)”
snuggle, funnel, cuddle images
alliterate an alignment
with assonance, phrases, af
-fable, blanket reader
forms formulate feel-
ings nestled in with
hope freedom
power
love
power
hope freedom
nestled in with feel-
ings, forms formulate
blanket reader, affa-
ble with assonance, phrases
alliterate an alignment
imagine- snuggle, funnel, cuddle
I love this mirror poem that looks like a funnel and a timer. What a great idea! Love it.
I have wrapped myself in this nonet quilt, Stefani – it is a treasure of comfort and delight!
Stefani, I’m reading your poem under the comfort of a faux mink blanket I won from my dentist and feeling the “snuggle, funnel, cuddle” of your words. You have woven many beautiful sounds into the poem, and these echo the idea of quilting with words. I love the vowel sounds (assonance in “alliterate, alignment, assonance.” The nonet form works beautifully to reinforce and bind the ideas together, just as a seamstress binds a quilt. Gorgeous poem.
Glenda,
It is so good to see you again leading in this space. Thank you, thank you, this month for all the sweet and thoughtful comments you left on mine and others’ poems. Your care and time spent here has been a blessing to many. (And even during your travels!)
There is so much to love about your poem, but today I’m taking away spreading poetry like butter on bread in my mind. So lovely.
And Daughtry’s poem is really powerful. I’m going to shoot with that one awhile today.
A poem doesn’t know my name.
It was composed time ago
and away from here
But that poem
whispers from the ages
From the pages
And finds its way
Swirling
Dreaming
Loving
Changing
Into my life
Today.
Denise, your first line says it all, as much as we want the relationship to be communal, it is not. We just take so much from poems and they don’t even know us! Thank you for sharing today.
Wow, Denise – talk about the universality and need for poetry! It knits the hearts of humanity together across the centuries – living or dead, no matter. So fascinated by the idea that a poem “doesn’t know my name” – but here it comes to find you just the same. Love this!
Denise, your poem is a gift, a reminder poems from long ago have purpose and place in our lives. For me these words harken back to those traditions that inform my reading and writing:
“that poem
whispers from the ages
From the pages
And finds its way”
I do love contemporary poetry and try to support living poets, both as a reader and a teacher, but there are poems from long ago that transcend time. Poems such as “The Second Coming,” and “The World is Too Much with Us,” to name two. There’s a balance to this reading and writing I think we sometimes forget and neglect. Your poem offers equilibrium in our unbalanced world. Love it, my friend.
All joy to the Funk of Glenda’s post. This is/This isn’t/This was/This might be. I enjoyed the prompt immensely, and love these words,
I grilled Mahi Mahi last night with asparagus….topped both with a mango-lemon sauce. I didn’t know what today’s prompt would be, but that a 3 a.m. trip to loo would somehow recall the way asparagus does as it does….and so, it can never be a poem.
This Is Not a Poem
~b.r. crandall
nada no nope
(urine trouble, Crandall…
you piss-head dope)
This should never be
a 3 a.m. stream of consciousness
poem puddled with asparagus perfume
to disrupt anyone’s flow…
…You’ve yet to write the colonoscopy sonnet.
nada no nope
(urine trouble, Crandall…
you piss-head dope)
N o! This can never be a plucking
O de to nostril picking
S poken word-probing,
E pigram licking –
H arvested haiku of
A biotic cilia – nor an
I lllumination of a
R aucous villanelle.
…who needs the phlegm-flavored tanka, anyway?
nada no nope, Crandall
chicken-nugget turd dope.
This will never be a poem!
Poems have purpose…
possibility…
like the Robin’s nest
you found
built & extended
with Diandre’s
purple weave…
…like the might & magic
of the ant
you watched
carrying Karal’s
IAMS from
kitchen floor
to the
formicidae
keg-fest
outside.
…like the white-breasted
nuthatch hitchhiking
two miles on your shoulder
as if an emblem
there’s poetic meaning
to any of this.
Nope nada no, Crandall
this poem’s a definite no-go.
Stick with those flowers & stars,
more apropos.
This is definitely not a poem.
Bryan, your words and ideas are entertaining, hysterical, and definitely nowhere near being considered verse. I think your acrostic nose hair non-poem is my favorite piece. Thank you for sharing today.
Bryan, this is my kinda poem! From the adamant refusal of its poemness (while, of course, being a very clever one) to the “piss,” “stream,” “puddled,” “flow” of the imagery (“liquid” specific, lol) to the word play of “urine” and “ant[s]” and their “formicidae / keg-fest / outside” to the “seriousness” of what poetry can really do (it can bear witness [and bear IAMS] and have “purpose … / possibilit[ies]…”), this poem has it all! (It even has a shot across the bow of “phlegm-flavored tanka[s].”) So funny! I’ll be returning to this throughout the day!
Um, Bryan. I regret to inform you… this. IS. a. poem.
P.S. The flowers and stars are now on strike; they say they cannot compete with nosehair and the 3 a.m. stream of… er, consciousness.
-Priceless!
Bryan, your dinner sounds scrumptious! But you’ve written a real stinker, if you know what I mean, this morning! Whew! You’ve singed my nose hairs with this one! I do love asparagus, however, so I’m willing to sacrifice to munch on some stalks of that tasty vegetable. You have so many funny lines and puns in the poem:
“(urine trouble, Crandall…
you piss-head dope)”
and “phlegm-flavored tanka” is a delightfully disgusting image as are som many in the acrostic section! Lots of yucky visuals and smells there. I’m grinning from ear to ear thinking what a delight you and Scott would be reading your poems at open mic tomorrow. LOL! Did you grow up reading “Grossology”? That may be after your formal early adolescence, but it’s a favorite book my boys owned years ago. You did bring the “funk” today, but not in a Bruno Mars kinda way, but more like a “what’s that funky stuff in the belly button and between the toes” poetic pondering. Love it!
(now this is my kind of response…belly button FUNK…that’ll be for next year’s #VerseLove)
Urine trouble, all right! Love this! But now I’m googling why I’ve never noticed that asparagus perfume (only 2 of 3 do) and whether I should be concerned.
BR — You had me laughing out loud. I love the whole take on what is/isn’t a poem. And there we are…loving your words…the “flow” ahahaha… and
Just too funny! And a phlegm-y tanka…egads. Yet, all these words and ripe images sure did float my boat just now. Fun fun fun! Susie
Crandall, I love this. It reminds me of a friend of mine who never misses an opportunity to tell anyone, everyone that she has the asparagus enzyme. I never knew this was even a thing. But apparently some of those who have that enzyme are really proud of it and will tell perfect strangers in a crowded restaurant that they don’t have to worry. (For the record, I do not have the enzyme, either).
Bryan, poetry has always intimidated me, especially when trying to absorb the technical terms, such as “iambic pentameter.” Thank you for slicing through all that formality and mixing your metaphors… or at least poetry forms. This poem was such fun!
I lost a poem
It was a poem that I loved
It had the ability to:
Transport you to a place you’ve never been
Transcend beyond the limits of this world
Transfer feelings you didn’t know you had
Translate into new languages
Transfix you in astonishment
Transform you into a kind person
Transmit knowledge into you
Transact with you in an affective stance
It was the perfect poem
I’ve never been able to write
A poem like it again
Jennifer, This is the worst! Sorry, odd way of putting that. Lol. The “this” is not your poem — I love your poem! — the “this” is the idea of “losing” the poem. I hate when I have an idea, and I try to keep it inside my head during the day, and when I finally get to “crafting” with pencil and paper, I realize I’ve forgotten most of it. Then I agonize over what I churn out, knowing that, without a shadow of a doubt, whatever I “had” before was so much better. Ugh! So thank you for giving voice to this today! (And, on a side note, I love the idea of being able to write a poem “so well” that it can “Transform [someone] into a kind person.” Thanks, again!
Oh my goodness, such lyrical power in these trans- words… and such deep sense of loss and longing, for the poem, for all those things. I almost feel like it was a poem of magical spells… these things do have ways of returning… incredible poem, Jennifer, so full of feeling.
Jennifer, I’ve been there! The “lost a poem” world of fleeting words I want to recapture haunts me. Yet you honor that memory and give us a warning to write when inspiration strikes. That list of alliterative words is fantastic: “transport, transcend, transfer, translate, transfix, transform, transmit, transact.” These make me think there are more perfect poems awaiting you and me. Bravo for this fantastic interpretation of the prompt. I love it.
Glenda – you are getting me thinking this morning! Love your poem, especially that last stanza – that last image. Wonderful.
This Poem is Not
This poem is not…
The dishes in the sink,
The piles of books to be read,
The bills waiting for me
Inside a dull shoebox.
This poem is not…
Soft wrinkles around my eyes
Still wild and unruly hair,
Extra round pounds,
My silhouette in the mirror.
This poem is not…
The same old news,
Broken windows,
Shattered hearts,
Anger and uncertainty.
This poem is not…
Rising food and gas prices,
Subway shootings,
Mass destruction of once
beautiful and vibrant cities.
But rather, this poem is…
A delicate butterfly
Precariously perched
On the edge of a sunflower,
Silently poised, patiently waiting.
Joanne, the repetition here is fantastic: “This poem is not…” This prepares us for the twist, the unexpected “But rather, this poem is…” The symbolism of a butterfly freed from the concerns in the previous stanzas is cathartic. I have a stack of poetry books “Silently poised, patiently waiting” my arrival and imagine a grove of poems awaiting each of us and offering us ways through the gauntlets of life. Wonderful poem.
Love how you land on this image of peace, Joanne!
What Can Poetry Do?
Do you need me to express
my position, posit my supposition
and spend a moment backing
up my movement toward
an answer? No problem.
Tied to the “Lizard Brain,”
the primitive, survival
instinct part of our brain,
the “Poet Brain” allows us
to appreciate the world
around us. It is the
“right” part of the “Fight or
Flight or Write” response
to danger that helped
us survive life on the
Serengeti.
It’s speculated that
just past the amygdala,
three folds from Wernicke’s
area and a hair’s breadth
below Broca’s area will put
you in the ballpark of the
seat of the Poet’s brain.
The fact that I can write
the phrase “the seat
of the Poet’s brain”
and you can understand
it, speaks to its existence,
but to fully understand
it we’ll need to return
to the beginning, the
beginning of the beginning
even.
Now, granted, I have no
advanced degrees in
Anthropology but I have
seen Indiana Jones a
number of times,
and I believe I can
confidently unearth an
answer to this question,
can excavate and uncover
a nugget of understanding.
Did you know that
scientists have found
Neanderthal poop from
50,000 years ago, which
only confirms my
belief that a transcript
of the first joke
must have been
Pull
My
Finger
and let’s be honest,
there is no way that
joke didn’t kill, amirite?
(especially after the advent of fire)
And ask yourself why we have
primitive cave art of hand prints
that are 200,000 years old?
The Poet Brain.
Poetry didn’t (perhaps) help
us hunt or gather, didn’t
help us make weapons,
but it did help us make
art and community,
and (perhaps) it allowed
us to make our existence
just a little bit better.
(Regardless, if this is bs
or not, I can honestly
say that my poet brain
allowed me to write a
whole poem that hinged
on a fart joke,
and I think
that’s pretty amazing.)
_________________________________________________
Glenda, I love your poem – especially your second stanza and especially especially the line “a single poem / lets / me say / the quiet / parts / out loud – and also thank you for sharing Darius V. Daughtry’s poem with us. I was hooked with “a poem cannot save a life / cannot Luke Cage your skin.” So good!
Scott, While writing this morning, I almost had a line (this one’s for Scott), but it didn’t work. Then, this morning, scrolling through the poems I see the lines “Pull / My / Finger” and I said, “There he is.” And there are these lines, too
All joy. All admiration. All smiles. Just in “All” of your wit with words.
Ha Ha! Whole poem that hinged on a fart joke. Yes, it is amazing where poems can lead us and it IS pretty amazing. Thank you for your insight into the poetry brain.
Scott,
I don’t know if I had the chance to comment on one of your poem’s this month but they are always filled with wit and wisdom and this one made me literally laugh out loud more than once–the Indiana Jones line and the parenthesis after “Pull my finger”. This is great!
(About to look up regions of the brain right now.)
Scott, before starting my commenting this morning, I read many of the poems and saw that you’re a poet influencer when I read Bryan’s poem. Now, don’t let that go to your “Lizard Brain” too much. You two are a couple of stinkers this morning. First a “pull my finger” fart joke juxtaposed w/ Bryan’s asparagus urine, why I feel as though you two could thrive in middle school. You have not disappointed my desire to giggle this morning. I read your poem and channeled David Attenborough’s voice in my head. The tone is pitch perfect. Love, love, love this section:
“the “Poet Brain” allows us
to appreciate the world
around us. It is the
“right” part of the “Fight or
Flight or Write” response
to danger”
Yes! That’s the power of poetry. Of course, none of this–your poem–is bs, and I think it’s safe to say we do enjoy what your poet brain makes possible in your poetry. ‘Preciate you!
Scott – are you and Bryan in cahoots today? And I gotta say my 6-year-old granddaughter would be utterly captivated by the discovery of Neanderthal poop. All the evidence we need to prove poetry allows us “to make our existence just a little bit better” – and lighter. Which your poem has successfully done this day!
Scott, we’ve just finished exploring how language is acquired, which necessitated looking at the three brains. This poem would be spectacular up against that exploration, but somehow I need to have you reading it since I teach middle schoolers and there’s farting in the middle and I think the whole experience hinges on your voice! Because it’s a hoot.
Lol. Thanks, Jennifer. And I think you’re right, only middle-schoolers could truly appreciate all the “poo” references in the first stanza — especially the “doo-doo” from the title to the first line.
OH MY G… this is so so so SCOTT…we’ve been Scotted once again and all the better for it..farts in all…”Pull my finger” … you know we were all rolling on the floor with this poem. Again…put your collection to print and I am BUYING THE BOOK! You will become our next laureate… I mean it! Do I get to vote on that choice? Hmmm. If so, you are IT! Poems that make me think (that amygdala is a workin’) and make me laugh out loud and give me pause and speak truth and delve into the “anthropology” of our existence…well, damn, whose not gonna buy that tome!? Get a Venmo account, recite these gems on YouTube, stream ’em, scream ’em… you da bomb, dude! Susie
🙂 [blushing] Thank you, Susie!
Scott, I love that you validate your anthropological authority based on Indiana Jones. It reminds me of staying in a Holiday Inn Express and all that does to qualify us to be professionals. You are in fact a professional poet – very Billy Collins flavor here with this chuckle and nod
to the finger pulling!
Glenda—what a wonderful prompt (and poem) for the closing days of our poetry month! This: “i spread poetry /through my mind/like butter/on bread” is so soothing, so true. Thank you for the mentor poem, your perfect words, and the inspiration…
It’s Yours
Look
for the poem
you need.
It is out there,
somewhere,
waiting
for you.
You’ll find
your poem
in the most
unexpected
places.
Words
play
hide and seek,
you know.
Don’t give up.
When you
finally call out
“Olly olly in free”
your poem
will leap out
from its foxhole.
It was
there
all along.
You just
hadn’t
found it yet.
Take it home and love it.
It is your poem, after all.
GJSands 4/29/22
Words – certainly play hide and seek. You have to be quick and sly to catch them. And patient too! Thank you for this!
Gayle, I love the softness/gentleness and surprise of your poem! That “Don’t give up.” is everything! Then the delight as the poem “leap[s] out” so you can “Take it home and love it. / It is your poem, after all.” Thank you!
This explains the process of creating a poem so well. I am always perplexed to find my poem and then (just like you say) it leaps out of its foxhole because it was there all along.
Gayle, I love how instructive your poem today is. It resonates w/ the teacher in me. I often told students who said they don’t like poetry they just had not found the right one. I love the playfulness, the hide and seek metaphor. It’s perfect and fun. Now a confession: You taught me “Olly olly in free.” I’ve heard this since childhood and never understood the phrase. It’s the preposition I could never hear clearly. Thank you for this lesson, these lessons!
I believe this, Gayle, about the poems being out there, waiting for us to find them, or to be born… love it, love it.
Gayle, I like that you remind us that poetry is ours – we find it and take it home and love it. And nurture more,
each different
–
like children!
Hi Glenda, Your prompt was such an inspiration. Poems are our inner voice saying what we want to say without restrictions.
a poem frees the mind
takes me into another space
allows me to reflect and ponder
it gives me a voice
it highlight my joys
fears
accomplishments
sadness
a poem can bring peace
A poem can do so much, as you’ve highlighted in your poem. Nicely done!
Dee, that last line encapsulates so much about the cathartic nature of poetry: “a poem can bring peace.” This is everything. “Reflect and ponder” as we raise our voices in poems is what brings us here, I think. Gorgeous poem.
A poem truly does all of these things, Dee – yours has been a breath of peace to me today, almost like a lovely butterfly landing and moving its wings.
Dee, that peace that poetry brings is the calm pause that restores us and gives us legs for the next part of the journey. Love this!
Glenda, your poetry this morning is inspirational. I love the thought of poems allowing you to drink in the nectar, filling your soul and quenching your thirst. I feel a calm wash over me reading those words.
Your words brought out some deep sentimental feelings that I threw down as a draft, knowing there is more I need to polish on this one…
A poem can’t
hold my hand
fix my dinner
take a walk
sing our song
or hold our first grand-baby
But
a poem can
awaken the memory
of when we danced
until we collapsed
in each other’s arms
giggling over toes
stepped on
and dance steps
forgotten
A poem can
share the ache
that hangs
in the air
when I see
other couples
holding hands
walking down
the lane
carefree
and easy
A poem can
dream of
our many
adventures
near and far
exploring
new lands and
natural wonders
A poem can
bubble up
and release
the sorrows
the missed opportunities
the laughter
the pain
the joys
and share
them with
you
wow Christine, your poem is refreshing. Poems are so impactful that they serve as options to express our joys, memories, accomplishments and sorrows. Thanks for sharing
Christine, the poem bubbling up to wrap us in connection with someone else in that last stanza goes back to the hand holding of the couples, the closeness and comfort of sharing in the stanza before that, the dancing before that……you build such perfect imagery leading to the final stanza – the connection of reader, poet – to show the kinship we feel.
Christine, my heart feels every word, every emotion in your gorgeous poem. I think often about the day when I’ll have only memories of my husband (He’s 11 years older than I) and how I’ll need poetry to
share the ache
that hangs
in the air
to
“dream of
our many
adventures”
to
“bubble up
and release
the sorrows”
Your poem sparks so many memories and shared emotions. It’s simply gorgeous, and I thank you for your poem, for trusting us with treasured memories.
Christine, I always feel “there’s more I need to polish” in every poem; I am never really done with them. This poem, these memories, the joy, the tribute – it is a poetic scrapbook of love and life’s gifts. A treasure.
Sarah, no spoilers for others but when you flipped that scene in the video it brought tears! What a poem can do…..wow! Another way your creative mind works in metaphors!
Full-heartedly agree, Kim! And seeing what poetry can do (on the day of this prompt) is just incredible. Thank you, Sarah, for this space and this community.
Glenda, I loved the flip of exploring what a poem doesn’t do. There’s such beauty in your lines, “drink the nectar/distilled in time’s/eternal etchings/these fill my soul/quench my thirst”
poetry cannot transport you
cannot give you wings
to carry you away
it cannot make you unsee
Patrick Lyoya’s last breath
or make you unfeel
a president’s anguish after Bucha
poetry cannot make you unhear
the words spewed from
race
ism
gender
ism
age
ism
able
ism
people
ism
it cannot make you love
poetry cannot
crown paupers
or pull you from the world
you find yourself mired in
poetry cannot make you unthink
or untangle life
but for a brief moment
it feels as if it does
The last lines, the turnaround, the me nodding yep
🙂
Kevin
Yes Jennifer, how we can escape for a brief moment in poetry. Love these thoughts and dream that our poetry CAN do more…
Thank you for sharing Jennifer. I like the use of the -ism in your poem and how in the end your stance on poem flipped. very interesting
Jennifer, the release we feel in poems is exactly what you show in your poem – the untangling of life, mired in poetry, even if only for a brief moment. Balm. Salve. Healing.
I’m with Kevin. The last lines is forehead kiss we all need.
This poem is such a gem. There are so many powerful lines and it’s so well paced. “Poetry cannot crown paupers” sticks with me, as does the 4 lines about Patrick Lyoya and Bucha.
Jennifer, I love the way you’ve embraced the prompt and honored Daughtry’s poem. Reading what a poem can’t do magnifies what it can do in my mind. Your poem is visually stunning in the way you name the “isms.” Splitting each word adds emphasis.Then you have the “un” words that play so well with the ism list. Naming Bucha specifically locates the poem in a historical moment, which gives it more power in my reading. The ending when you say how poems make us feel reminds me that art empowers, that we need art to make us feel the urgency necessary for tackling all other problems. I sincerely believe we’d have a better, more caring world if more leaders cared about art.
Oh my gosh, Jennifer, those ending lines are a crown of truth!!
Oh gosh, Jennifer, this is just so moving and well, important. Poem can’t do a lot of things, but you hammer this home with “feels as if it does.” YES! YES! YES! Marvelous poem. And the spacing of the “-ism”s … that dissecting of those words is so effective in forcing us to parse the impact of each of these wormy parts of our lives. Thank you! Susie
Glenda, what a perfect prompt for today! Oh, how I love your design and craft! Your ending is stunning
lets
me live
on rainbow
spectrum
as a glass
menagerie in
a mirrored hall.
Absolutely beautiful, all the reflection and sparkle of what a poem can do, with a nod to Tennessee Williams! Thank you for hosting us today!
What A Poem Can Do
a poem reveals
flavor in every image
sounds of emotions
between heart chambers
poems beat honeysuckle
fragrances, wafting
up from printed words
seep through eyes, nose, ears, tongue, hands
inhaled, consumed, held
a poem reveals
real magical living thoughts
on a breathing page
poetry laughs, cries
a poem ~invisible
spirit ~ rises up
omniscient healer
poems perform miracles
swoop in deep, restore
take up residence
illuminate shadowy,
tired souls ~ bathed in light!
smooths salve over scars
~ poems, balm of Gilead…
ink-cloaked physicians
This stanza could be its own poem (actually, all of your stanzas could sit as poems)
“poetry laughs, cries
a poem ~invisible
spirit ~ rises up”
Kevin
Kim, I am loving the thought of poetry restoring us. How often I write to ease a hurt and emerge restored. Thank you for putting those words together today!
Hi Kim, thank you for sharing. Your poem illuminates how powerful and inspiring poems can be. The rich vivid description added to the message.
Kim, the verb choices here are magnificent, with each one doing something for us as readers: reveal, beat, seep, laugh, cries, rises, perform, take, illuminate, smooths, etc.. Each word gets us closer to the power of poetry, the “omniscient healer.” I love the idea of a poem being all-knowing and arriving to do its miraculous work to “perform miracles / swoop in deep, restore.” in this life that feels close to Gilead, both metaphorically and literally, poems are the “balm…ink-cloaked physicians.” That is so beautiful, and as I read the poem again and think about all poems do, all you’ve illuminated with your words, I feel an emotional release in this knowledge and now hove tear-filled eyes.
So much gorgeous sensory detail, Kim – I am savoring every bit – can “pure taste” that honeysuckle. I am absolutely in love with the line “ink-cloaked physicians.” Says the Queen of Haiku, holding her healing scepter with ink-stained fingers.
Kim — you so effectively captured the spirituality of poetry…”between … chambers” and “omniscient healer” and “shadowy”… all that salve that is the power of poetry. This really spoke to me! It is a power unlike anything else. Thank you! Susie
Oh, my goodness…what an incredible prompt. Glenda, your poem makes me feel lonely at first. But, then, the friend that poetry is. Well, that is just genius. Thank you for this. I’m off to write!
Linda, I’m so thrilled you like the prompt and look forward to reading your poem.
Glenda, I read Daughtry’s profound and amazing poem…I will reread it often for the truth, strength, and hope in it. And yours -! It sings. The weaving of literary references, poetry as a blanket for the soul and an amplifier for voice. These lines are especially true and magnificent to me:
drink the nectar
distilled in time’s
eternal etchings.
these fill my soul
quench my thirst
-just gorgeous.
My offering is small this morning; thank you for yours. I will be revisiting this idea…
In the Non-Rhyming Scheme of Things
A poem cannot
erase the past or
bring back people I’ve loved
and lost
A poem cannot
still the storm or
turn back tides
of war
A poem cannot
repair the whole world or
remake the human heart
but it’s a start
Fran, I am moved by the thought that a poem can start change. I know I’ve experienced change here this month, enjoying composing pieces and being moved by others words and comments. We keep hoping and praying for change to ripple out form us and others.
And the start is the hardest part. A simple seed, planted with hope, that springs forth life anew. That’s exactly what a poem can do. Beautiful, Fran. Those scars and hurts bring the most powerful poems, don’t they?
It’s a start! And you do it so well, Fran! Thank you for this!
It’s a start, indeed it is. I like the turn in your poem. A very effective and hopeful message.
Fran, love the title. I’m not generally a big rhyme fan. I love saying what is not or can’t be in literature; it often feels more. specific to possibility in my thinking, which is one reason the poem I chose appeals to me. You’ve embraced that idea beautifully. I love the indentations and the white space drawing our attention to ideas and leaving possibilities open. Yes, these are things a poem can’t do, “but it’s a start.” I don’t like thinking about a world w/out art, without poetry, without your poetry.
This poem is so true, but as we write together in this community, we find solace in the connection heart to heart.
Fran, this is beautiful! I love how the last pairing of lines sits against one another and evokes hope.
Poems about poems are some of my favorite poems ….
Kevin
What a Poem Can Be
a poem
is nothing more
than letters that become
nothing more
than words that become
nothing more
than lines that become
nothing more
than stanzas that become
something more than
the rhythms of a writer’s heart
that then become
a poem
“Only this and nothing more,” quoth the poet Poe. Beautiful summation of the process, Kevin.
Video Version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gu-t3uYZLfs
Your words become something more when you write Kevin! Always moved by your succinctness and apparent ease of thought provoking poems. Thank you
Thank you for such kind words …
I always have believed that the best tasting foods were made with the simplest ingredients that come together with chemistry, and here is the equivalent. In a poem. A powerful, moving poem.
Love this progression from – nothing more – to something more – to the poem. Brilliant!
Wow, a poem and video to represent it all…love this!
Love the repetition of “nothing more,” and the way it delivers to everything – a poem! Nice!
Kevin,
Excellent repetition of “nothing more” followed by the list of a poem’s building blocks: letters, words, lines, stanzas that together make meaning, the way ingredients do in a recipe and notes in a song. I’m touched by “a writer’s heart / that then become / a poem.”
Kevin, as the lines grow, one into the next, I feel the rhythm of the writer’s heart! I love this becoming.
“…nothing more… that become something more…” I love the gestalt vibe of this creation, Kevin.