Word-Association with Allison Berryhill & Andrea Goes
Welcome to Day 3 of the June Open Write. If you have written with us before, welcome back. If you are joining us for the first time, you are in the kind, capable hands of today’s host, so just read prompt below and then, when you are ready, write in the comment section below. We do ask that if you write that, in the spirit of reciprocity, you respond to three or more writers. To learn more about the Open Write, click here.
Allison Berryhill lives in Iowa where she advises the journalism program, teaches English, and hosts a weekly Creative Writing club at Atlantic High School. She is active with the Iowa Council of Teachers of English, the Iowa High School Press Association, and the Iowa Poetry Association where she serves as teacher liaison. Allison is a runner, an accordion player, and a wedding officiant. Follow her at @allisonberryhil for photos of #IowaSky and schoolblazing.blogspot.com for random musings.
Inspiration
Andrea Goes teaches language arts at Bondurant-Farrar Junior High School. Her Word-Association poem prompt is adapted from “The Chain Poem” article by Ingrid Wendt from the National Writing Project, The Quarterly, Vol. 25, No. 2, Spring 2003.
Wendt explains the value of such success-oriented prompts in this way: “Writing chain poems gives nearly all students some measure of success, especially when they know in advance their words will not be graded, corrected, or criticized—for this is an experiment, after all, and who knows how it will turn out?”
This word-chain prompt combines the serendipity of one word bringing to mind another, with an invitation to poetically connect the brain’s chain of associations.
Process
- Allow your eyes to wander over your surroundings and land on an object. This object will serve as the first word in your word-association list.
- From this first word, associate to another…and another. Keep going until you feel like stopping!
- Write your list in the middle of the page. This will allow you to add words before and/or after each word–which is precisely what you are about to do!
- Consider the examples below, then GO!
Our Poems
| Anonymous | Allison Berryhill |
|---|---|
| Word List: wall picture family friendship loyalty trust | Word List: cloud puff dandelion weed smoke fume fury sound |
| Poem: The wall is standing before me. I picture myself breaking it down. My family supports me through it all. I will find friendship and will not drown. The loyalty I feel will spur me on. Trust will wrap me up. | Poem: Above me the clouds puff like billowing dandelion fluff. Each seed is a weed–or a wish gone up in smoke–leaving only a fume, a thin whisper of fury without sound. |
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
What a fun prompt, Allison. I cheated… only a little… and took the idea of the prompt. Word associations are commonly used in improv warmups and practices as a way to help the players focus and really connect with their fellow performers, so that was the first word that popped into my mind.
Improv
hands loosely grasped
circled together
heads bowed in concentration
listening, observing
waiting, focusing, seeking
that one mind
that leads all
to the same conclusion
and a bout of laughter
Ho, wow. This just really took me back to my theatre days, Charlene! “that one mind” is sooo what we would try to achieve, yet each of us also wrapped up in our own responsibility for a good performance. And I can’t speak highly enough of the LAUGHTER aspect. That is the BEST crew to work with. If you cannot laugh together, it’s going to be a disaster! Lovely associations here!
Charlene, I am delighted that you took this prompt in a theatrical direction! Your poem is striking. The concentration that erupts in laughter is genuine! <3
Thank you for yet another fun prompt, Allison! I loved your poem and especially “a thin/ whisper of fury / without sound.”
I am a bit tired – long day, so I am just looking around my living room:
Leave the phone alone,
Look at the sunflowers in a vase instead
Or grab a book and get lost in a story.
An old pendulum clock strikes eleven
As if reminding me about the pillow
But not the one on the sofa here.
My mind is searching for words
While the red pen in my hand swiftly moves
Along the lines in the notebook.
Leilya,
Theres a temporal quality and a rhythm that makes me keenly aware of time passing as I read. All the options instead of r being on the phone are a cautionary warning about wasting time. I quite like the effect.
Awww, yeah, Leilya. I know this kind of ‘tired’ at the end of the day, and thinking it would be easy to just crawl over to the sofa… “But not the one on the sofa here.” Nope, the mind says. Go to bed! Despite the late and tiredness, I hope it is some quiet time for you as well. Do you really write with a red pen?
Thank you, Denise! The ink isn’t red, but the pen is 🙂
Ha! Gotcha. I was just sitting here looking at a red (ink) pen and pondering writing with it – !
To me, the red ink is kind of “screamy,” and I am not sure, I’d choose it. Back in my school days, we always wrote with a blue ink, but were allowed to use red for underlining and for titles in creative works.
Long day, even later night. This is a quick piece I put together. My word is “hearing aid” because my son wears a bone-anchored hearing aid and today was a trip to the audiologist and I haven’t had time to fully process the visit. Backstory: he’s been diagnosed since birth so this is nothing new. But I always fear that his hearing will become progressively worse, so I pray these appointments go well. And, I feel some type of way afterwards. So here are my thoughts…and possibly his.
Potato/ Potahto
Lifeline to clear hearing; some indestructible toy.
Battery operated, lasts a few days; dead BAHA, oh well.
Bluetooth capable; very expensive paperweight.
Connection to the outside world; YouTube stream to iPhone.
Microphone and streaming to Chromebook; embarrassed because He’s different?
Thankful for technology; technology makes me “seen”.
Blessing!; curse?
Acceptance?; rejection!
Peace!; peace?
And I’m so tired that I didn’t even acknowledge the mentor poems! ??♀️ The poem by Anonymous…I could’ve written it myself. This line resonated with me: “I picture myself breaking it down” because I need to break my barrier down. It’s keeping me from so many things. Things are looking better on the other side and I’m ready to play in the meadow!
Peace! Peace to you and your son! I wish there were further medical and technology advances to help your son. Thank you for sharing, Jessica!
Thank you Leilya ❤️
Jessica – Your poem is so important! Thank you for sharing the worry and the personal narrative. I too have a family member who deals with hearing loss. It is so so complex. You gave us a window that really matters. Thank you. Susie
You’re welcome Susie ❤️
Jessica, I came back to this page tonight, and I’m so glad I did because I found your (?!?!) poem. Blessing/curse; acceptance/rejection; peace/piece. Your story/poem/message is essential. Sing it, share it. Thank you.
Thank you Allison! That means a lot.
Thank you, Allison and Andrea for the accessible prompt. Allison, your example poem made me nostalgic for the expansive #iowasky. I loved the way you brilliantly incorporated sound and fury into your last two lines. Your poem inspired me to write mine outside today.
my bleeding heart is drooping, wilting
any passion she once had drips
delicately from her fatigued fruit
the sun, a crimson persimmon,
nourishes her; the maple tree’s
leaves shade her from
the most relentless rays.
with a little water
and a little rest
she will be restored
Rachelle,
Exhaustion is palpable in this poem. I feel it in the “drooping, wilting” and “fatigued fruit”. Love the way your poem ends with restoration through rest and water.
Rachelle,
I love the garden imagery! There are so many ways that this can be read with innuendo or allusion–and that’s what makes it lovely. Wonderful word choice. 🙂
Rachelle – I really love the journey of your words through this prompt. That bleeding heart can be literal or figurative… lovely. And I love that you used persimmon… a tree and a fruit that is particularly rich for me. There’s a gentleness here… just a little water and rest… up against mighty forces (sun) …that lays strength at the feet of this reader. Wonderful poem. Thank you. Susie
Allison — thank you for this awesome prompt. Having just returned from a trip to Acadia National Park, this was a perfect way for me to remember one of our hikes. Can’t wait to use this one with my students.
Journey Through Wonderland
Bowing trees with
barky trunks and
kissing leaves
bending into a corridor
that leads
Us on a winding path
slick with mist,
the jagged rocks,
gingerly we must persist
Treading over gnarled roots
and cottony moss, like lime green frost
Teal blue ocean
meeting azure sky
lapping waves and motion
A horizon with no end
Tammy, I love how there is no punctuation in your poem! It reminds me of a continuous journey of adventures, suspense, and serene. “A horizon with no end” is my favorite line. It leads to endless possibilities. Thank you for sharing!
Tammy,
Oooo. It makes me want to go there. The “slick with mist” and “gingerly we must persist” put me right on the trail. Wonderful word choice and imagery.
I am so sorry, Tammi, I spelled your name wrong. :/
Tammi, the trek explodes before us. How gorgeous!The blue on blue… mmm, i love that. Susie
Word List:
geese
twilight
drive
road
mountain
Geese Crossing
Twilight descends.
The road is dimly lit.
I see gray motion ahead,
As I drive the mountain road.
I know to slow down now,
I know to be careful.
Too small to be beloved deer,
Walking on two’s not fours.
A long strand of seven
Come, crossing slowing.
The lead’s neck is stretched forward,
The one in the rear is watchful.
The fuzzy ones in the middle,
All eyes ahead, following,
One webbed foot after another –
Safe on the other side.
Joanne, I appreciate your use of imagery–from the twilight setting to the “one webbed foot after another” I could picture every stanza. Thank you for sharing this today!
Joanne — You have captured this geese crossing so vividly. I can totally see this image. So glad the webbed family made it to the otherside.
Joanne, your poem reminds me of three things: patience, watchful eyes, and safety in number. These geese could teach us humans a few things, especially the “fuzzy ones in the middle”! Thank you for this visual.
Joanne – you have so effectively used light to set the stage.. and then to bring light so we can see what’s right b4 our eyes. Those steady webbed feet getting the goslings safely to the other side.m, I love that. Such a clear and maternal tone of caring. Beautiful. Susie
Allison,
I wasn’t sure how I’d tackle today’s prompt, but a city tour, a visit to the Voodoo Muse, a house tour, and stops at iconic spots offered inspiration. I omitted much! ‘Preciate you.
Lagniappe
a little more of
this & that in the
birthplace of jazz—
crescent city of
little extras:
second lines
masks & magic
madames &
gris gris bags
voodoo superstitions
fleur de lis along the
Vieux Carré in the
French quarter
pastel facades in the
Faubourg Marigny
sub sea-level
rising & falling
levee comebacks
Laissez les bons
temps rouler,
New Orleans
—Glenda Funk
June 20, 2022
Oh, you are having fun! Love the final French words, yes, let the good times roll! It is all the little extras that make New Orleans so very special. I can’t get enough of the second lines and the street bands – music pervades the town, and hints of this music and rhythm pervades your poem, Glenda!
Glenda – I lost my response. Here I go again… I loved the specific and iconic details but even more, I loved that you’re there in Nawlins. And another new word for me… lagniappe… such a gift!! Thank you! Susie
The rhythm and sound in this poem mimics that sort of Jazz tempo I hear when I think of New Orleans. Thank you for this delightful read (and listen!)
Glenda — I feel the music right from the start of your poem with “a little more of/ this & that”
I’ve never been to New Orleans but your vivid images of the city makes me want to visit.
Love your poem, Glenda! It looks, smells, and feels like New Orleans. Are you visiting? I am here, 40 minutes away in Ponchatoula, a Strawberry Capital ? You are welcome to come visit!
Glenda, I pictured you as a butterfly flitting from place to place in this poem! Everything is quick, tiny vignettes that I found very fun and lighthearted. New Orleans is such a fascinating city!
(Thank you for this prompt. I love how the initial list of words becomes the narrative spine of the poem.)
Stationary in this place
a tree rustles with dappled light
the leaves sway with birdsong
the tree motionless amidst
so much motion
I’m on a park bench still with a cell phone
like some old-timer with a newspaper
scrolling through postings like
stories in wadded newsprint
news of the world blowing
on the breeze
nothing to do but sit quietly and wait
I snap a few pictures
so I won’t forget
Jeff, this poem feels like a picture in itself. You captured the essence of this moment in time in a way photographs simply cannot. I feel connected to this poem because I love sitting on benches at the park, watching ducks, sitting quietly and waiting.
Jeff — I got a chuckle out of your second stanza —
“I’m on a park bench still with a cell phone
like some old-timer with a newspaper
scrolling through postings like
stories” because I can totally relate.
I appreciate the blend of objective and subjective in this poem, Jeff. The details of just ‘here’s what I’m doing’ are the mundane we might observe in a stranger in the park, but also the speaker’s own observations and commentary on the surroundings. Yes, it indeed sounds like any park in anywhere America and beyond, which makes this so relatable. And the phone scrolling – yeah, how did that become the “old-timer” activity? I still love to read newspapers in print, and that “wadded” and “blowing” that can happen to paper is indeed lacking in the cell phone reading experience. I have trees full of birds outside my house every day, and love your having “captured” that phenomena of bustling activity in your details.
Allison, thanks again for a wonderful prompt. I had a long list, trying to capture all the sensory appeal provided in my backyard. Love the mentor poems and your poem’s imagery, especially adored “whisper of fury
without sound”.
Backyard Lollapalooza
tiger lilies trumpet
fiery orange roars
invisible birds incessantly chatter
whistleherewhistlehereherechitterycheechee
dragonflies dizzily dance, abuzz, buzz, buzzing between
shimmering shadows golden-green
a woodpecker batters the suet tree
tappity tap tappity tap tap two
providing a backbeat to the wind chimes ecstatic tune
ringadingadingdongalldaylongding
drifting dreamily on a warm summer breeze
I drowse beneath a sea of sound-
only the hummingbird quietly feeds
Barb Edler
20 June 2022
Wow!!! I love this!! A great beat- thank you for a vision!!
“dragonflies dizzily dance, abuzz, buzz, buzzing between”
There is so much richness of sound in this line, and it’s a great image. I liked this poem so much.
Barb – I love the vibrancy of the verbs … trumpet and batters especially. I can see you in that wonderful backyard… drowsing. And that against the hummer’s quiet. So serene! I need a dose of that Keokuk bluff with you! Susie
Barb — I love everything about this poem! The rhythm, the alliteration, the onomatopoeia, the images. Just love it!
I love the seeming simplicity–and the brilliance of the complexity! Pure inspiration. Thanks!
Fountain of Youth
My tongue tingles as we drive by
McConnells might just be
The best ice cream ever
Pick your treat
Creamy, cool
Flavors:
Santa Barbara strawberry
Eureka lemon and marionberry
Jostles memories
And I become a child again
Time stops
And I’m in the Thrifty
On tippy toes
Picking my scoop
5 cents for a single
Dare I splurge
Spending 15 cents for a triple?
@kd0602
Kim, what a wonderful memory. I love your ending. Yes, splurge!
Kim — Sounds delicious. Love the image of you standing “on tippy toes/picking my scoop”.
Kim, thank you for letting us be a part of this memory, this “time stop[ping].” “Eureka lemon and marionberry” sounds tasty!
“And I become a child again.” Don’t thoughts of ice cream just beg us to return to our childhoods?
Thank you for another prompt that I can use in my classroom! My poem is an amalgam of where my brain was–hungry for lunch and beginning a summer college class.
hungry
food
thought
change
challenge
grow
learn
share
I am nearly always hungry
and food only helps so much
it is thought that feeds me
giving me a chance to change such
ideas that challenge my mind’s
perspective to grow into something
greater to learn that entwines and winds
into inspirations to share and take wing
“it is thought that feeds me” Love that line!
This poem is so YOU! You’re always hungry for knowledge–that’s been clear since we met! I love that you’re always taking classes and expanding your horizons in a way most people don’t. The combination of “entwines and winds” sounds so good together. Thank you for writing this today!
Cara,
I loved the direction this poem took.with the idea that only knowledge can satiate.
Loved these lines:
ideas that challenge my mind’s
perspective to grow into something
greater
[My words: fieldguide, identify, habits, sizes, migrations, feeding, nesting, flight, songs, wingspan, risk, endangered.]
Humanus Greedius (Myopicus Abusii)
If I opened the fieldguide for mankind,
I’d identify
charted habits
maturation sizes
maps of habitats
annual migrations
preferred feeding patterns
nesting behaviors
silhouettes in flight
colors that attract mates
songs and dances
wingspan
risks?
Endangered.
by Susie Morice, June 20, 2022©
Oh, wow, Susie. I love how you turned the binoculars toward Humanus Greedius. You crafted a tone of objectivity, which give the ending such an emotional punch. “maturation sizes” was a gem.
Susie, the references to traveling are superb from annual migrations to nesting behaviors. The joy of travel does seem to be endangered, especially if you like to fly. You’ve got quite the stack of books to guide your travels! Stay adventurous, dear friend!
Susie,
I love this! My favorite walk is also a favorite birding spot. I often am passing people so apt at looking at a bird that they nearly step into the pond. That, said, I love the tone of your poem and how you turn it around onto humans.
Susie,
Im thinking about that question mark. It’s both a mark of a question and an answer. We are self-endangered. And we are creatures of habit who are predictable. The field guid frame is genius. Bravo!
The View from Where I Sit Parked
By Nancy White
Ahead, if you look carefully,
the thick mane of dead fronds just below the palm tree’s crown sways slowly in the wind along with the massive trunk, a dusty grayish ship in the blue sea of sky.
Shimmering leaves in neighboring elms catch the light and sparkle
as a lone sapling waves hello, its dull green trunk like a full garden hose.
The faded brown plastic fence intertwined with chain link separates me from my tree-view as do the ginormous
SUV’s to my left and right, one metallic red, one blinding white.
Off to my right at 2:00:
Slopes of a grey composite roof parch in the sun, languishing in yet another hot day, a metal pole protrudes upward like a desperate hand waving for help,
as three phone lines hang onto it with unforgiving tenacity.
A gigantic black phone line pulses perpendicularly to these, menacingly, powerfully,
to a exceedingly high and sturdy wooden phone pole rising behind a tree, its wires, arresters, and insulators competing with the innocent
cluster of palms below:
all waving arms that ripple in yellow, green-yellow sand yellow-green, reminding me of a trembling April stream.
Nancy, I was so caught up with the natural descriptions in the beginning that I was annoyed by the intrusion of modernity such as hat gigantic phone line. I just want the beautiful palms, and this poem so cleverly centered their need in the “waving arms.”
Nancy, one would think nouns and adjectives would suffice to describe a scene, but you bring the elements in your scenes alive. You move from a photo to a movie with your carefully selected verbs! WOW! What talent.
Nancy, I felt the turn in your poem as you shifted from the natural world to the aggression of the man-made. Even the colors of the SUVs are threatening: metallic / blinding. Pulling me to the tremble of an April stream at the end was a surprise that felt just right. Thank you.
Allison and Andrea — cool prompt idea! Susie
vitamin
collagen
youth
myth
market
truth
hope
agency
three ruby capsules hold
collagen with no promise
of effecting change only
hope of less brittle nails
fewer hairs in the sink
supple cheeks under
bruised bags that tell
a truth that vitamins
are you doing something
about that which you
cannot, so I buy mega
this and fortified that by
the hundreds from cost-co
doing my part in the futile
fight to revive what I never
really had in the first place–
except, yes, I did have
chubby cheeks once.
Sarah — This is just so honest an amble down the aging and body-decaying aisle. LOL! I’m wandering down the same aisle, right there with you. But you, girlie, are just beautiful inside and out … so let the “megas … and fortified[s] be damned! Hugs, Susie
Sarah, What a chuckle on my birthday when I read,
doing my part in the futile
fight to revive
That’s why we went walking along the beach today, doing our part to revive what we DID have, but with equal futility, Still, it was fun! Thanks for giving me a vocal smile today,
Sarah, you have such gorgeous cheekbones and a drop-dead beautiful face so I guess you’re the poster child for the power of supplements! I enjoyed this poem for many reasons but mainly because it helps to know that we aren’t alone in our hopes of vitamins doing what we can only hope they’ll do.
Keep smiling…it’s healing for you and us too!
Sarah, you should see the huge container I buy each month of powdered collagen. Yes, I do have a little less hair in my brush. And, my nails are a wee bit stronger! But, I am familiar with the thought, “Is this really worth it?” as I spend the money on these things. I guess if it helps even a little it’s worth it. At least I’m not getting worse! (I have Hashimoto’s Disease.) Thanks for writing this very relatable poem.
Nancy,
Seems like powered collagen is working for you and worth it! I will take “wee” bit:)
Sarah, I delighted in the liberty you took with this prompt to re-arrange the words in your list. I love seeing poets use a fragment of a prompt as a running start! Your line “doing my part in the futile fight to revive what I never really had in the first place–” gave me a lot to think about. It’s as if you (we/poet/reader) are just one member of an entire brigade fighting (futilely) to keep from aging. I’m pretty sure those chubby cheeks were oh, so kissable!
Oh, Allison. This is an adorable, sweet, loving response. I just want to hug you.
Sarah, you’re incredibly gifted and sensational looking, too. I think whatever you’re doing, it is having a positive impact. I have to laugh at your chubby cheeks reference at the end. Had to laugh at “so I buy mega/this and fortified that..” Very relatable poem!
Thank you Allison and friends for these prompts that make writing poetry so much easier.
Rocking Chair
There sits the old rocking chair
worn from use.
Cushions depressed where many bottom sat
to give comfort and support
to Mom who sat there knitting
and Dad while resting
stretched out his knee
to set a gentle rhythm
rocking,
quieting babies,
transforming cries
into slumber
and rest,
rocking,
rocking,
rocking.
All memories locked in the rocking chair! I felt like I was rocking in that chair as I read the poem! Your poem reminds me of my Grandma’s front porch?
Susan, this is lovely. “Transforming cries to slumber–” What a gift some gentle rocking can be.
Susan — Nothing like a rocker to conger storied images. Beautiful! The poem feels like it’s rocking sweetly. Susie
Susan, my sis, I was instantly brought back to being rocked with Daddy holding me as he sang, Tu-Ra-Lu-Ra-Lu-Ra… Yes, I still remember that and I must’ve been two years old. Beautiful and loving poem.
Aw, Nancy, I had forgotten about Tu-Ra-La-Ra-Lu-Ra. What a beautiful memory for me.
List of Words:
Brain Stress Toy
Coaster
Drink
Book of Poetry
Speaker
Dictionary
Poem:
I let my mind
coast along
waves of thought
and realize
the line of Emily
D’s poetry which
currently speaks
to me – “There is
no Frigate like a
Book” – makes
perfect sense
as long as
you know what
a frigate is.
____________________________________
Another fun prompt, Allison! Thanks! (And I really enjoyed the lines “ a thin / whisper of fury / without sound.” They made my brain do a little stutter-step, thinking about Macbeth and his tale told by an idiot signifying nothing, much like a “wish / gone up in smoke.” Very cool!)
Scott — LOL! So lovely and that last lines just made me laugh out loud…AGAIN! You selected such a wonderful quote from ED. Susie
Scott, your poem is once again a delightful jaunt into a excellent observation. I do so love a great book:)
Bahahahaha! I love that! I was taking it all serious and what not, especially with the reference to such a GREAT poet – but then, flip turn! Love that ending. I can’t tell you how many times I’ll be reading along a poem and bump into a word I have never seen before. I waver between “it’s good to learn new words” and “wtf is this poet doing using such obscure language – who really knows what that means?!” So, yeah, I find this downright real and humorous! Thanks for that, Scott!
Allison, a day for self-indulgence and a poem to celebrate it!
Word List.
Comfy bed
Bald head
Blue Suit Case
Floor Lamp
Wide Window
Celebrating
Who’s that sitting on our comfy bed?
My dear husband of fifty-five years
Now sporting a tan bald head
Smiling at me with birthday cheers.
A bright blue suitcase sits on the floor
Packed tight, not wasting an inch of space
Across the way from our hotel room door.
After a brisk walk on the beach
Just a few miles away within easy reach,
We watch the birds assemble in place
As though a chaplain is saying grace.
Hmmm. A stomach rumble reminded me
It’s time for lunch. I jump with glee.
Yum. Yum. Yummy says my tummy!
Back in the room, but not back into the gloom
The sun still shines bright. It’s still hours before night.
Floor lamp sitting, tilted shade at an angle
Out of the way and out of the tangle
Of thoughts swirling ‘round as I look out the window
Seeing the traffic out of which we just got
Now reading birthday greetings on my telephone
Ah. Looks like no one forgot
That this is my special birthday
Celebrating with my honey in our special way.
Happy Birthday (it it is today or any other day!) I enjoyed this poem and can picture the peace of celebrating with your dear husband. Like the lines of “now sporting a tan bald head” and can see his smiling at you.
Happy Day, Anna! So sweet! That walk on the beach sure sounds dandy! Susie
What a sweet and romantic way to spend your birthday! Your life in love is a blessing! Enjoy your time!
I feel such warmth radiating from your poem. I smile at the tan bald head and love the excitement of a tightly packed bright blue suitcase! And to think of a nearby beach! My favorite part describes the relaxing feel of exploring and just doing whatever you please as you do on a getaway—
“We watch the birds assemble in place
As though a chaplain is saying grace.
Hmmm. A stomach rumble reminded me
It’s time for lunch. I jump with glee.
Yum. Yum. Yummy says my tummy!”
I hope you had some cake!
Happy Birthday, Anna! ?
Happy B-day, Anna! I hope you had a wonderful day! (And I really liked the word “assemble” in your line: “We watch the birds assemble in place.”) Thanks for sharing your day with us!
Such a wonderful prompt today. As I worked outside today I noticed how beautiful the cedars and pines were in Georgia. I wondered why they stayed green and the grass was brown from the Georgia heat?
Thanks again !!
Blank Note Cedar
Temptation of sight,
blinds the pain of a rattler’s strike.
To see what we don’t see,
is the path to serenity.
Hold your love close,
He’s there,—- the ghost.
A breeze across your cheek,
Becomes warpaint of the Creek.
A cardinal’s cue in a cedar tree,
Is the ancient guidance of the Cherokee.
All that have become dirt,
send us messages so we don’t hurt.
We must listen with our soul,
Release our ego, let them control,
Our words, actions, and life,
Renounce temptation and strife.
Believe in the evergreen,
to see the unseen.
Our turn on wheel ticks with choice,
Guidance is granted by her voiceless-voice.
She and Father are intertwined,
each second accounted for -in a timeless- time.
So, as I look around this place,
I close my eyes to see a faceless- face.
A guidance to subdue human mistakes,
Only Accurate in a wakeless-Wake.
As the rattler coils for a strike,
Rely on the mountain lion’s might,
To make decisions True,
or become a youless- you.
There’s no gray in the Father’s ticks,
Temptation is a dreadful, death trick.
Faith to know they are there,
We know, but others are unaware.
Serenity is blessing,
for those that unsee, without question.
look for the unseen,
an evergreen is forever-green.
The rattler retreats to his dark hole,
defeated, because he can’t control,
the spiritual fortitude of an evergreen’s
soul.
Boxer, what beauty in these lines! I especially love this one:
We must listen with our soul
Because Listen is my 2022 one little word, and what a way to listen – – with a soul. This reminds me of the picture book Brother Eagle, Sister Sky, which is a message from Chief Seattle about preserving our earth. I love the way you weave these words – – the voiceless voice, faceless face, wakeless wake, youless you, timeless time. As always, brilliant and profoundly deep and sends me thinking.
Boxer, this feels good to my soul, like the ancestors sent you to share this today. I absolutely adore all the metaphors and messages but these lines resonated with me:
Thank you for this treasure!
Boxer, Your use of rhyme, with the repeated words “tick” and “time” gives this important reflection an urgency…a time-moving-forward feel. I was especially intrigued with your crafting of “voiceless-voice/ timeless-time/ faceless-face/ wakeless wake. You positioned the absence (-less) as the descriptor of the presence. Very cool.
Allison, I adored this prompt – the free association, the ‘serendipity’ (your word!) of it all – thank you!
the backyard patio
welcoming this gorgeous day
a reunion with all my senses
crisp clean clear birdsong
alongside the calm of the
daylily yellowing
this yard is a salad, a mishmash, askew
with its broken branches in the air
sand buckets on their head
yet as I sit here somewhere
a rusted door unlocks squeaks swings open wide
letting rambling thoughts run playfully
simply bounce around the surround
I listen for the echo
Maureen, I love how your YARD is a SALAD! And the joyful, rambling “little ones” running, bouncing so playfully are not children, but THOUGHTS. I love that! Yes, let it echo!
Maureen, I tried very hard to capture what I saw today and am in complete awe of your beautiful poem. Loved “daylily yellowing” but your end “I listen for the echo” is pure genius. Thank you for sharing such an incredibly beautiful poem!
Maureen, I love the rhythm you’ve crafted. Listen to those “c’s” and “g’s”: “crisp clean clear birdsong / alongside the calm of the / daylily yellowing.” And again with the “b’s” and “s’s”: “this yard is a salad, a mishmash, askew / with its broken branches in the air / sand buckets on their head.” So good! Thank you!
Maureen,
My favorite line is “this yard is a salad.” Thsts so original and so inviting. A mishmash can be a delectable thing! Love the literal and figurative image of running around and the echo. Wonderful poem.
Happy birthday to Anna! I hope you have a fantastic day!
???
Sending you lots of birthday happiness, Anna!
Allison, you are giving us so many fun prompts to welcome us all back to Open Write. I adore this process and both mentor poems inspired me. Today, writing a Golden Shovel from my list worked well for me. My stack of books along with other items in my view of the coffee table inspired my poem.
List:
Coffee table
African woman
Love Songs of W.E.B. DuBois
Sky
A Promised Land
Becoming
Black Coffee
Somebody’s Daughter
Lessons From the Coffee Table
The rich brown legs of the coffee table
Remind me to stand tall like the African woman
Perched on the far corner next to Love Songs of W.E.B. DuBois
Her eyes upturned toward the sky
Reflecting all the broken promises in A Promised Land
Beneath her skin, the color of pure black coffee
Is all that she was and all that she is Becoming
But always remaining Somebody’s Daughter
© Stacey L. Joy, June 20, 2022
Stacey, what a poignant poem for today! I adore its title, feeling both the ‘happenstance’ and the power of these word finds as you sit near this table and write. This line is sad and beautiful –
“Reflecting all the broken promises in A Promised Land”
Stacey, this is lovely: beautiful imagery that places me in the moment, seeing what you see. ❤️
“” Is how I first responded. I am reacting with pleasure to the colors of richness, browns and blacks and the standing so tall. Great images over all and the last line that connects to being a daughter. Very good poem.
I love this prompt! It’s really intriguing to see what rabbit hole your mind will go down!
You’ll probably guess what book I’m reading, although my initial word had nothing to do with it.
Mer de Flammes
The vine of ivy
hangs, clings to
the cool, damp
wall of the chateau.
The structure stands–
alone, yet satisfied.
Doors once open
to welcome all,
now closed to
safely store and
safeguard the
treasure, stolen
from pirates,
sea-bound and
hungry.
It is an
impenetrable
fortress, a
foreboding
blockade,
beyond which the
few are free.
Julie, your poem is rich with gorgeous imagery. I love the ivy vine detail and the treasure being protected that pirates stole. Your end though made me pause as it shows so much truth “beyond which the/few are free”. Powerful poem!
Ohhh. A big ‘Hmmmm’ at the end of this one. I was not expecting that ending, yet it is so perfectly traveled to through the lines and indeed – so apt. I love the “alone, yet satisfied” as a way to personify the structure. I know many such buildings but would never have come to this description of them – it’s perfect. I appreciate the “rabbit hole” mind here – I think it took you to a good place!
This is such a great way to invite new poets into writing.It takes away a bit of the risk. Thanks for this prompt.
Influences of a Ball
A still soccer ball against the couch,
my daughter is back home.
Memories of her from 8 to 19 reel through my mind,
the life lessons this simple ball has taught her-
Teamwork, persistence and
striving for self-determined goals.
Each pass, shot, victory and loss fueled her personality
towards seeking success
in her future after the game.
Cathy, the still soccer ball hit me right away wondering the tone this poem might take. And then the 8-19 reel offered just the image to take me alongside the speaker in this memory of the past tied up with the future. Lovely.
Cathy, your poem shows so well the positive impact sports can have. I absolutely love your end “towards seeking success/in her future after the game”.
This creates a beautiful kind of short film in my head as I read this. I can just envision the timescape montage of 8 to 19, and how quickly now it must seem those years have flown by. Yikes. But also so hopeful for the future. Nicely encapsulated. My “9 and 10/12-year-old niece” (yes, you know that’s what she says) is about to start playing soccer, and this is an encouraging perspective on the value sports can offer young people. Nicely shared!
What an interesting way to build a poem — I’ll have to remember ths one for sure. Thank you so much for sharing, Allison.
My poem begins with a fidget toy that was sitting right beside my desk:
Freedom from Hair
We are all tangled
braided hair to keep
the curls away
from fingers that read
flex and hold fast.
You can find your strength
and pull away,
stand on your own
tall and proud,
above the world that judges,
far below your feet find purchase
on the fallen strands
the land is soft here
and you are safe and free once more.
I love this, Erica! For some reason, I pictured brushing my daughter’s hair. Her hair is fairly smooth and straight on the top layer, but under that are a whole lot of crazy curls. A recipe for a tangled mess, no matter what. Your lines “fingers that read /flex and hold fast” made me think of how my fingers have learned to “read” her hair and know just which strands to wiggle or pull to tease out a tangle. The lines “You can find your strength/and pull away” made me think both of how she tries to squirm away because I’m “hurting” her, and also how, at 10, she’s starting the process of pulling her hair, and herself, away from me as she becomes a strong, powerful woman in her own right…wow. Your word-association poem made me free-associate! ?
Erica, thank you for sharing this poem.
I connected with your title right away!
In March, I participated in St. Baldrick’s by having my head shaved to raise money for childhood cancer research. I turned 50 in April and it was so refreshing to start this next phase free of hair dyes ?
I ‘awwwed’ out loud at the end of this, and I’m not even sure I could tell you why – ! It was just the feeling I got with that soft and safe and free – but also, the ‘once more’ made it feel like a homecoming of sorts. I also like the “feet find purchase.” I have seen that phrasing before, but have never had an opportunity to use it. I just like it. Nicely done with connections and imagery without forcing any specific event. Very feelingly.
Good morning! I was awoken by my text tone way too early — it was a colleague from work. She had a question about inventory.
We’ve been out of school since June 2.
I plugged in my computer to charge so I could maybe help out my friend; while I waited for a computer to power up, I came to this space. Here’s what I have for you today:
Powered up my work computer today,
June 20 — summer break.
Time to read,
Catch up on all the books.
From the school library, home and public too!
This is not the time for work,
August will be here fast enough.
©Jennifer Kowaczek June 2022
Oh my, that is cruel, to awake to a too-early text on summer break. It shows the tension that teachers hold still, how hard it is to transition from this year – to ‘surrender.’ Love your poetic response, especially
“This is not the time for work,”
Jennifer, yes!! I totally agree with this:
I hope you didn’t lose too much of your break time today. But what a good friend you are! I am trying my hardest to NOT do the “schooly” things until late July.
I couldn’t help but laugh when I hit the end of this poem, Jennifer. I HATE it when I talk with people over the summer, and they (always) ask: “So, when do you start back?” I’ve started making an X with my fingers and saying, “We don’t talk about that!” Seriously! TOO SOON. Funny you had to fire up the computer, but this also speaks to the fact that teachers are NEVER on break. Even the reading we do – which we say is “for pleasure” – will somehow end up in our classrooms in some lesson somewhere. And your willingness to help out is commendable. Okay, but now, let’s not talk about August. AT ALL! : )
Allison and Andrea, thank you! What a fun and engaging prompt. I can see this really working when one feels otherwise empty, poetically speaking. It really is a simple and fruitful prompt. Thanks!
The tangles of yarn
Are becoming a blanket
Right now, they are sitting by
my Mother’s Day gift of
board books—Chicka Chicka Boom Boom,
I’ll Love You Forever,
and The Very Hungry Caterpillar
that I will read to our baby on Facetime.
But now we wait for you to come,
Healthy and whole
Bearing life and
Bringing hope
To the world
Denise I really find comfort and joy in this poem. I especially like how it begins with a tangle — unfinished — but with so much promise. Just like this new life that’s about to be! Beautiful.
This poem has such a sweetness about it. You should frame it as a gift for the parents or child. It shows the joy in the waiting and the love before meeting.
Denise, oh the joy of waiting for a grandbaby! This is a treasure of a chain poem…I, too, love that you begin with tangles and end with life and hope. Just beautiful!
There is such wonderful anticipation in this poem. Knitting for the future and waiting to read to a new addition to your family. Very loving and hopeful.
Allison, I can’t thank you enough for the lovely prompt that led me down a path to an unintended Father’s Day poem: How timely. It’s tough to write about my dad: He was a difficult person to penetrate. But I’m happy with how this turned out.
The best kind of gunfire
occurs in my backyard.
The staccato drill,
an insistent search for
hidden bugs:
Jungle ambience.
The wheet, wheet
and wheedle, wheedle, wheedle of
my peace-domed home.
I don’t know who
my winged visitors are.
Nor do I care.
The pleasure is in the
not knowing.
And on mornings like these
I imagine
(because I don’t understand)
the worst kind
that occurred in my backyard:
Drills and staccato marches;
Hidden bugs
packed with poison –
Jungle ambience.
A photo of a smoke-domed home.
The terror of not knowing
who each visitor was.
“Lai day, lai day,*” he called
that May day
(the 18th, 1967).
“Stay,” I urged,
both then and now.
(*Korean for “Come here, come here.”)
https://buffalonews.com/news/local/army-desk-job-turns-into-highly-honored-combat-service-in-vietnam/article_505e2320-13d1-5d20-ada9-b89dca0c706b.html
*After rereading, I decided that I wanted to add the line “and always.” after the line “(the 18th, 1967)”.
Wendy,
I’m so glad this beauty came to you today with this prompt. Wow. Thank you for sharing the article about your dad too. I like the addition of “and always” in your poem. And the ending to “stay.”
Wow, Wendy! What an incredible tribute to your dad. Such an experience that most of us can’t even fathom. I love how your turned childhood experiences of yours into an attempt to understand him.
My favorite line is “the pleasure is in the not knowing.” It makes me think of the luxury of innocence–and the fact that many are not afforded that luxury.
Acadia
By Mo Daley 9/20/22
I am armed with my Coke
and macaroons
(though I won’t have them together-
too much sugar, even for me!)
Waze is set
my book lies unopened on my lap
because the Miramichi Bay views call to me
as do the endless miles of pines, maples, and birches
and he is beside me in the quiet
watching and hoping to see moose
taking in this life with me
Mo, what a gorgeous image. Love the bits of so-precise detail that make it pop. Thanks for this gift this morning!
the Coke and Macaroons lines are great … and waiting for the moose of Maine, too.
Kevin
I’m hoping, Kevin. We are driving in New Brunswick on the way to Prince Edward Island today.
Mo, have a great vacation! It sounds like a perfect setting. Here’s to see the moose!
Mo, you are traversing one of my favorite areas and I hope you love it. The beauty of the word Miramichi is everything. Have always wanted to get to PEI – it’s a loooong trek! Envying your destination, your journey, and the beauty of your words here today.
I appreciate the title helping to provide context to this poem. I love the sense of adventure I get from this poem right out of the gate with that first line about being “armed with…Coke.” Although I really connected with the line about “endless miles of pines, maples, and birches” because it takes me back to almost every road trip ever! Thanks for sharing Mo.
Acadia is one of my favorite places and your line – the endless miles of pines, maples and birches- brought me back to standing there.
Mo, there is something so very sweet and dear to see the word “he” set apart/in bold, one of your chain words, and that final line “taking in this life with me.” Just gorgeous! Happy travels!
Oh, Mo ~ a snack and a view and trees and adventure. You are a writer after my heart. I’m there with you watching for moose right now.
I had to Google Miramichi Bay! Now I have to go to New Brunswick, CANADA! When you named the poem Acadia, I thought of Maine, my
favorite place on the planet. Also with moose. Thank you – this is a wonderful glimpse.
I had a lot of “strange behaviors” as a child, so I am told. But as I recollect on some of these, I realize the makings of an introvert.
toast
cinnamon
sugar
quiet mornings
braids
bike rides
bay
sunrise
Recollection
I learned to make my own toast
stirring cinnamon and sugar in a bowl
sprinkling it over the buttered top
awake before any of my seven sibs
I would sit alone in the quiet stillness
munching away, staring at my reflection
in the rounded metal toaster
hair parted down the middle
braids hung to either side
in a moment, they would be flying
behind me as I peddled my bike
to sit on the shore of the bay
and watch the sunrise
Denise, I think this poem is beautiful. It’s so calm and quiet, but it gives a real sense of who you were as a child. I don’t find it strange at all- quite the opposite.
Denise,
I’m sitting on my back deck reading this, and the peaceful morning mood of it perfectly echoes today’s mood. As a fellow introvert, I love it and can wholeheartedly relate to it and to the pleasures of enjoying a tasty piece of toast and days of bike-riding. Thanks for the evocative memory!
What a lovely poem, and this line connects me to my childhood, too:
“I would sit alone in the quiet stillness”
That was me.
Kevin
What a perfect way to approach this prompt. I love the recollecting word association you did. The memories of this sweet child are captured here in the cinnamon toast and mirrored toaster. I love it, and the bike ride to the bay is a lovely ending and beginning of a new day.
Oh Denise, I am in love with little Denise! Your poem resonated with me because I was also one for getting up early and doing my own thing before anyone else could stop me. I love the visual of you looking at your reflection in the metal toaster! Brilliant!
Here’s to all the independent introverts enjoying childhood! ?
I’m connecting to many things in this poem: cinnamon sugar on toast – comfort food for me. Seven siblings – I was from a family of seven children, and pedaling away with great speed! Wow! I loved these memories. Amazing how all these words came together for you – and me! Thank you
What a wonderful recollection came from your staring at the toast. The best time of day for me is the quiet time of the morning before anyone is awake. I stare into space and should try staring at the toaster…Hee!
Lovely – I’ve done this – I’ve done this except without braids and 7 siblings. I had wild curls, one sister, but the toaster, the cinnamon toast, the bike to the bay to watch sunrise. I’ve done this. WONDERFUL!
I picture an observant child, content with herself. She is fantabulous.
I purchased
my first pair of readers
to enlarge the world
on my laptop
on the go
when I’m not stationary,
bricked in position, solely
in a relationship
with my monitor
bigger than my childhood tv
once I remove
the blue light
pupillary handholding
plastic, optical accessory
to look beyond the black screen,
through the windows
the views dilate my
lived experiences
What a topic, Stefani! I have resisted the need for cheaters, but I know it’s coming soon. I just love you being in a relationship with your monitor. And that size comparison is something we can all understand!
What a thought-provoking and profound poem. I read it more that once to truly absorb it. Love the language in the first stanza (“bricked in position,” “in a relationship with my monitor”) that was so disturbing yet so accurate. Love the words in the second stanza (“pupillary handholding,” especially). Beautiful piece!
“… the views dilate my
lived experiences”
Perfect landing there …
Kevin
Stefani — I’ve been wearing progressives for about four or five years now. Probably should have gotten them sooner — I was waiting for the doctor to mention it (they don’t).
Your poem so wonderfully captures an experience many can relate to.
Thank you for sharing.
Allison, your cloud poem is beautiful. I especially love the comparison to dandelion fluff and the line “each seed is a weed or a wish.” I date all my open write poems and your prompt caused me to pay attention to things I wouldn’t normally.
June 20, 2022
As I type today
The string of 2’s
(two toward front
and two behind
with double zeroes
added in)
Line up
And march
A date line
Drawn in digital sand
Unremarkable
Except for my noticing
And it’s all in the noticing, isn’t it? That’s what a poem can do …
Kevin
Jennifer, so many noticings…the numbers in their given linear sequence, marching like ants, the way time does…date line “drawn in digital sand” (so lyrical) only there for a moment and gone…it makes me think how no day is every really ordinary and it’s up to us to savor it while it lasts.
A poem about noticing, and a good reminder to your reader to notice, notice, notice. Lovely. I like “digital sand”
Jennifer,
I like the simplicity of your poem while it makes the reader really think about all the small things we should be noticing. So often those small things go unnoticed. Since beginning my poem writing journey in 2020, I find myself taking the time to notice all that goes unnoticed, but I still have work to do in that department.
Thank you!
Drawn in digital sand – love this – so inventive – poet’s notice!
Allison, this is brilliant and a wonderful way to get those reticent writers getting their pen working. I appreciated the ease of the process. And today I will carry your words: “trust will wrap me up.”
My words:
Birds
Chirp
Sound
Presence
Birthday
Cake
The birds
chirp outside my
window
The melodic sound makes
its presence
known
like a birthday cake
announcing a party
We were both hearing the bird songs this morning!
Kevin
Oh yes – geese again too! But oh how the sounds inspire
You know you are singing my song with birds, Christine! The chirpings I hear in my mind (and outside my windows and doors) always sound happy…very like a party, yes. What an association, the birthday cake announcing the celebration…a feeling as well as a sound. Lovely!
Christine, so much energy exists in the small things – birds chirping and birthday cakes – I love both and am glad you connected them!
Christine,
I always love the idea of connecting “presence” and “present” which I am feeling in your poem this morning. Thank you for sharing.
Oooooh, the thought of a birthday cake announcing a party – what an unexpected and delightful simile for birdsong!
I adore those last lines! It’s a great simile for sure.
I love this!!
I’d like to draw a picture of birthday cake announcing a party. There’s a children’s book in their somewhere! WONDERFUL!
Love your dandelion word association poem, how fluff becomes fume becomes a whisper. I am living with my mother at her retirement home this weekend, and yesterday there was a funeral for a resident’s daughter. All the funeral flowers showed up and my sister and some others re-created the sprays into individual arrangements in vases.
Funeral flowers
become centerpieces
cheerful, scented pick-me-ups
that twirl on the tables.
“Teach me how to do that dance”
Follow my steps. I lead
with love
leaving behind
a scent of roses.
Margaret, I love this idea of re-creating something meant for condolence into something celebrating life and beauty. That IS the dance, I think – such rich, rose-scented metaphor in that second stanza! The love is palpable.
Margaret, the movement you’ve found in a stagnant arrangement (twirling on the tables) and the subsequent stanza with its scent of roses is beautiful.
Margaret, this sentiment is beautiful and I hope you share your poem with all the residents at your mother’s home. Thank you for this pick-me-up this morning.
Margaret, such hope and beauty even from the loss and sadness. I love what you did here, this dance of flowers as a metaphor for the dance of life. Beautiful!
“.. I lead
with love …”
How beautiful that phrasing is!
Kevin
Margaret, you are a beautiful soul and your “lead with love” is just what the world needs.
?
What a lovely idea – turn from death to living – lead sorrow to hope and happiness. I love your last lines – leaving behind a scent of roses.
“I lead with love…” I see the dance you describe here as a slow waltz. Beautiful.
Allison, what fun! I love this starter to get the thoughts going and the memories rushing forth. Thank you for hosting us today. You prime the pump with these fun, quick activities that help set the stage for writing.
My words were:
hydrangea
island
friend
childhood
poetry
bicycles
village
pier
a hydrangea hopeful
from her island garden
my friend
from childhood who also
loves poetry~
we rode bicycles
to the village
crabbed off the pier
I feel such a childhood joy reading these words – so much so that I feel the wind rushing by as I pedal!
Kim, “hydrangea hopeful” is poetic delight. The whole poem is as bright as summer’s day – I adored crabbing off a pier when I was a child <3
Kim, these words strike me today – crabbed, hopeful – in their specificity. I love the pairing of your friend who also loves poetry and the bicycle riding (I seem to be finding 2’s today). There’s a gentle and relaxing summer quality to your poem that invites.
Kim,
I like how this acts as a poetic thank you, to one who brought you flowers and also indulges in the beauty of “verse”–thank you for sharing this morning.
That’s an evocative slice of childhood wandering … ending at the pier
Kevin
I want to write a book of poetry called Hydrangea Hopeful. Love this small glimpse. You left me wanting more!
I love the interjection of “who also loves poetry,” a declaration of one of (presumably) many shared interests with this friend.
Allison, once again the mentor poems are profound. I’ve appreciated having more than one each day to get my poetic juices flowing. Today you leave me clinging to hope of sustaining trust and considering unuttered whispers of fury floating in the air…senses and images that will follow me around for a good while… thank you.
My words:
pitcher
pour
tea
sweetness
childhood
sugar
I remember the pitcher
in my grandmother’s hand, mid-pour
tea flowing like memory
me drinking deep of the sweetness
a childhood steeped in dinner-stories
Daddy saying Slide up to the table, Sugar.
This single moment memory is full of the kindness and love of family. “a childhood steeped in dinner-stories.” Clever use of steeped.
Oh this line: A childhood steeped in dinner-stories. Such an image you have created for me with so few words
Your memory is a snapshot of home comfort, a hand of love pouring the sweetness and the term of endearment from your dad sweetens the moment! Love this!
Fran, all of the sensory details release like the fragrance of tea – gently, dreamily. I also imagine the long “e” sound being stirred into existence, strongest smack in the middle of your poem, before slowly stopping. And I love the childhood steeped in dinner-stories. Just beautiful!
This acts like a haiku in the way the moment of tea (“like memory”) being poured is frozen in the poem … Nicely done.
Kevin
Your last line really swelled in my heart. The poem is about sweetness and intimacy and the last line sums it all up so well.
Fran, the way you painted this beautiful picture in so few lines is remarkable. I clearly see you watching grandmother’s hand and …
I often wonder if my grandmother knew how much I watched her every move. Thank you for this gift today.
Love this! Short and sweet, Sugar! Sorry – couldn’t resist!
This world’s
awash
in a music,
if we listen
to what we’re hearing
birds
dogs
wind
leaves
engines
electronics
imagination
Pluck the string
to make it sing;
the melody’s a memory
in the open key
of us
The world IS awash in music, Kevin…all those things in your list, an ongoing symphony of life, engines and electronics playing their parts in movements. “The open key of us” – this line just blows me away. Magnificent.
“the open key of us” is a great line! Such an uplifting poem.
If only we listen… and pluck the string! That will indeed make the melodies!
Kevin, my one little word this year is listen….and this brings me a reminder to bear the beauty of the music!
Listen is a great word to keep in our pockets this year, Kim
Kevin,
This is the lesson we all need to learn!
You remind us to find the music in the every-day things!
???
Hope so. Hoping so.
🙂
Kevin
I love the reminder to not just listen, but to also hear the music. Thanks for that.
May we all stop to listen, Kevin. This is beautiful.