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VerseLove Day 12: The Poetry of Everyday

Rita DiCarne of Pennsylvania is our host today for the 12th day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com. She inspires us to write list poems, prose-style or with line, about all the things we love. It makes me think of Tom T. Hall’s song, “I Love.” You can read Rita’s full prompt here.

You can hear Tom T. Hall’s “I Love” here.

The Nest

I like going places~

camping, girls’ trips, weekend getaways

but I love coming home

I love bone-tired sleep, the kind where

you don’t move all night and have sheet imprints

on your face from the weight of

not carrying anything with you to bed

putting it all down at the foot

climbing in, clocking out, cloud-drifting off

I love waking up to dog noses

in my face saying Let’s Go Outside!

I love Skechers Slip-Ins for when the grass

is too tall and wet with dew for the regular slippers

I love opening the front door for the sun

to barge in, full of life and light and laughter

I love checking the bird nests, finding

a clutch of four brown-headed nuthatches

snuggled under mama bird on a

bright, cool Sunday morning

like a prayerful blessing of their own

a place where they will learn

to fledge, fly, and face a lifetime

of setting out and coming home

to their feathered nests

the places they’ll grow to love best

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Verse Love Day 11: The Loves

Our host today is former high school English teacher, Kate Sjostrom , a teacher educator at the University of Illinois at Chicago and Writer in Residence at the Hemingway Foundation of Oak Park. 

You can read Kate’s full prompt here as she inspires us to write about emotions in concrete and abstract terms.

Brown and white bird with spotted chest singing on tree branch
A Wood Thrush sings while perched on a branch in a green forest.

Elation Over the Song of the Wood Thrush

it’s 6:38 a.m. when I hear it

we’ve just taken the boys out

to do their morning business

when a familiar note plays

from the branch-pew of a tree

on Pine Mountain

like a retro diner Jukebox favorite

a song to stir the heart

not call-like,

not chatty or operatic

definitely not theatric

(like that one lady in church,

thinks she can sing)

still, this voice offers hymn

praise to its maker and in

that way they are alike

this voice isn’t

wearing colorful Gucci garments –

picture instead

a simple watercolor painting of

dark, milk, and white chocolates

splotched with dots

and caramel feathers

the star voice of the woods

and doesn’t even know it

doesn’t show off or sing louder

like I would do with a voice

like that ~ why would I

ever say anything?

I’d sing it all, asking where the

tomatoes are in the grocery store

and what is my balance

at the bank and I’d be the

talk of the town for all the

wrong reasons ~ folks

would say I’ve gone off

the deep end

……but if I were a bird

I’d hope to be a Wood Thrush

the best voice in the choir

so humble

so unassuming

so musical

turning heads

with elation just to listen

and even sour Simon

Cowell would look up

and smile, knowing

there’s the talent

and press the Golden Buzzer

but with my Wood Thrush ways

I’d shun the competition

not needing his endorsement

I’d crap on his head

my own golden buzzer

on my way to another branch

still singing

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Verse Love Day 10 : Villanelle Vibes ~ Georgia State Parks

Susan Ahlbrand of Indiana is our host today for Day 10 of Verselove at http://www.ethicalela, com, and she inspires us to write love letters to a place we love. She challenged us to try a villanelle, a 19-line poem of five tercets and a quatrain with a rhyme scheme and refrain sequence. As I sit on the campsite of a Georgia State Park recharging my batteries this week, I could not think of a more fitting place to pay tribute.

Villanelle Tribute to Georgia State Parks

out in the woods on a state park campsite

nestled in shade by meandering creek

Pollock-splashed beams of breeze-filtered sunlight

shelter from life’s woes, respite from plight

renewal blooms hope when refuge we seek

out in the wild on a state park campsite

Swallowtails air-dance on blackened blue-brights

welcoming wings, meditative mystique

sashaying rays of oak-splattered sunlight

flame-flickered campfires on stargazing nights

embers leap up to kiss Pegasus’ cheek

out in the wild on a state park campsite

mosaic edges softened by twilight

for life’s jagged junctures, outdoors re-key

shadowy brushstrokes, dusk-darkened moonlight

birdsong awakens, euphoric daylight

new trails to hike, fresh air to seize

out in the woods on a state park campsite

canvassing nature, the soul re-ignites

In honor of National Poem In My Pocket Day…..

I have a poem in my pocket

a perfect way to start

hummer at my feeder

hope restores my heart

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VerseLove Day 9: Home/Hogar

Bryan Ripley Crandall, our host today for Day 9 of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com, lives in Stratford, Connecticut, where he directs the Connecticut Writing Project and is Professor of English Education at Fairfield University. He co-hosts National Writing Project’s The Write Time. 

Bryan explains his process and directions for writing, which you can read more about here.

He shares his process and the directions by inspiring us to write about our homes and places we’ve lived. I’m not thinking past today – I’m thinking future.

Person driving a vehicle on a curved road next to a lake with snow-capped mountains and pine trees
Driving through stunning mountains alongside a clear blue lake on a sunny day

My Open Road Retirement Home

a teardrop

a fifth-wheel

a bumper pull

no tent

no yurt

no fort in a tree

a camper van ~

Class A, B, or C

anywhere I can take to the road

most any RV will do for me

but with this old back and

collapsible knees

no tearjerkers for me, please

a full tank of gas

a State Park Pass

dogs by my side, ready to ride

(husband can come, too, if he’d like)

pens to write and books to read

and that is all I’ll ever need

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VerseLove Day 8: In Poetry We Say

Our host today for the 8th day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com is, Linda, who lives in Virginia, where she teaches from a middle school library. Linda inspires us to write prose sentences in the form of poetry the way we would say it in verse. You can read her full prompt here. She gives us this example: “In English, we might say, ‘I feel lost in the chaos of life,” but in poetry we say, ‘The heart wanders through the storm, seeking sunlight in shadows.'”

She shares a process we can use: Take a sentence from English. Translate it via the phrase, in poetry we say…

My chosen phrase is Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Ain’t No Mountain High Enough

swells of earth in hillock

and knoll

hummocks and mounds

hills of ant and of mole

can ne’er be vast as the sky

nor the sea

to hold all the love

I feel for thee

nay, it shan’t hold me back
but shall let me pass
into thine own dear presence
where we shall be one ~ you and me

at long last

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VerseLove Day 7: Alternative First/Last Lines in a Slice of Life

Luke Bensing of Valparaiso, IN, our host today for the 7th day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com, teaches 9th Grade English in Merrillville, IN. Since it’s Tuesday, I’m also writing with the bloggers at Twowritingteachers.org, slicing about a reflection or part of my day.

Luke inspires us to write poems that have alliterative beginning and ending lines and that are inspired by a photo on our camera roll or any other image. You can read his full prompt here. Lately I’ve been dabbling in the fun and challenge of watercolor painting after seeing so many friends’ lovely paintings last month as part of the Slice of Life Challenge. A couple of them were using Emily Lex guides to take them step by step through the process, and it prompted me to pick up a set of watercolors and see what the paint brought out. I started with an inexpensive Hobby Lobby version similar to the Lex guides – this one with a nature and floral theme.

It’s a perfect camping hobby since it doesn’t take a lot of equipment or space, is inexpensive without a ton of supplies or brush cleaners needed, and you can mess up and still fix it. My lofty aspiration in a dream world would be to be like one of those plain-air painters who can sit outside and paint whatever they see. If the water stays wet, I’ll be one of those low-grade types, never having true talent like my children have (they got that from their father), but just enough skill for the trying will make me happy. In retirement, I dream of traveling the United States in a Winnebago View model 24D and paint the sunsets in the National Parks and write poetry with my 3 schnoodles curled around my feet, behaving like normal dogs (if I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming big). So today, I’m going for the gusto. I’m in the learning phase in an InTech Aucta Willow Rover in a Georgia State Park painting lilacs from a step by step guide.

If it all falls to pieces, I’ll go for the paint by number sets next.

I chose a lilac for an alliterative haiku, inspired by this image below. A novice attempt at the painting, but a start nevertheless.

Lilac Haiku

purple-pink petals
watercolor blossoming
bristles brushing blooms

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VerseLove Day 6: Forgiveness Poems

Wendy Everard of New York is our host today for the sixth day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com, encouraging us to write forgiveness poems. You can visit the website for her original prompt, which I’m sharing in part here as she quotes Joseph Bruchac from his book A Year of Moons: “It’s January here in our Adirondack foothills.  The time of Alamikos, the Abenaki term for the first moon of the new year.  In English, it’s the New Year’s Greeting Moon.  It’s the time when people would go from one wigwam to another – nowadays one house to another – and speak the New Year’s greeting,
Anhaldam mawi kassipalilawalan. Its meaning, translated into English, is, ‘Forgive me for any wrong I may have done you,’ a recognition of the fact that there is always more than one way to look at any situation, any human interaction, because it would be said not just to people you know you’ve wronged, but to everyone.  Everyone.”

She goes on to describe the process we can take writing our poems:

“Your poem can take any form you wish.  Bruchac urges us to ‘think of the times when your own feelings were injured by a word or deed from someone who was totally oblivious to the fact that they’d wounded you.  It happens more often than we think.  We’re in a hurry and we brush someone off.  We make a remark offhandedly or say something that we may think is humorous but in fact cuts another person to the quick.’  Or think of a time that this happened to you.  Or just write a general poem of forgiveness – giving it, asking for it, or struggling with it.  Reflect, and write a poem that captures the spirit of “anhaldam mawi kassipalilawalan.”

I’m not gonna lie. I’ve forgiven some doozies, and I’ve been forgiven for some doozies, others of which I may never be forgiven for, but I’m struggling with one that needs a lot of head space and heart space. I’m still chiseling away at it, ten months later. And poetry helps me see that I’m not alone in my struggle.

Black hearse towing an orange U-Haul trailer on a roadside with autumn foliage.
A hearse pulls a U-Haul trailer.

Jesus, Take the Reese’s Rabbits

His first Easter in Heaven yesterday

and here I am

his child,

His child,

recipient of God’s

ultimate sacrificial forgiveness

~ in the forgivingest season of all ~

and yet I struggle

after all the trying

to make things right

clear his hoarding

clean his messes

he curmudgeonly says NO on repeat

I hum Jesus, Take the Wheel on repeat

I cuss on repeat too

even in the midst of prayers

….and then he up and dies

with all this unfinished business

no U-Haul behind the hearse

like a final take that!

and I hope to good gracious

he gets none of the feast

of the blessed Easter lamb

or the chocolate bunnies or

especially any of those Reese’s cup rabbits

until we get the rest of his stuff

cleaned up and that may

take a few more Easters

but if he’d just listened

to his children

we wouldn’t be praying he’s

in time out up there

having to watch all the angels

who weren’t so stubborn

eat of the lamb and the chocolate

licking their angel fingers

at him on his antique stool

in a corner of Heaven

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VerseLove Day 5: Antonymic Revelations

To bard or not to bard? That is today’s question from Jennifer Jowett of Michigan, our host for Day 5 of VerseLove at ethicalELA.com. Please join us to read poems, or write one of you own to share.

Jennifer encourages us to UNfind lines, making them opposite and see what they bring us in poetry. She says: “We’ve played with found lines. Sorted through them. Rearranged them. Created new poems from them.  But have we ever un-found them? Find a line of poetry that speaks to you. Un-find it by exchanging the main words with their antonyms. You may choose to keep smaller words like helping verbs, prepositions, and articles or use an opposite for those too. Write one line or several and join them together. Or use a line as a starting point for a longer piece.”

I’ve been reading Steam Laundry by Nicole Stellon O’Donnell, a living poet in Alaska, and I’m using lines from her collection today. Here are the original lines from the book:

Not the way I came (At Last an Invitation from Eldorado)

I thought of the egg (In the House of our New Marriage)

So we each took turns in the water (Tom and Elmer Dive for the Gun)

Some towns glitter (The New Camp)

When I lose myself (At Last an Invitation from Eldorado)

But here the sun spins around (Lost Luxury)

Here is my Antonymic Revelation Poem for today, and I’m grateful to Jennifer Jowett for inspiring us to write today.

Go on, Figure it out For Yourself

surely the way you stormed out

you did not consider the chicken

they didn’t brood-bathe in the dust

all farms lack luster

as you’ll discover for yourself ~

over yonder the moon hangs frozen

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VerseLove Day 4: Living Poets

Instructions for Traveling with Living Poets

I’m hosting today at http://www.ethicalela.com for the fourth day of VerseLove to celebrate National Poetry Month. Hop on over there and write with us today! Follow this link.

Inspiration 

I made a commitment to follow more living poets in 2026, and I’ve been on a remarkable journey of discovery ever since.  As a third-year member of The Stafford Challenge, it brings great joy to see a surge of interest in modern poetry! At my father’s funeral in June 2025, I chose a poem from an anthology of living poets to read at his graveside – not one written long ago.  I reached out to the poet to let her know I planned to read it, and I sent her a recorded clip of that reading. Imagine my surprise when, with tears in her eyes, she sent her own recorded message back explaining that it was her own cancer journey that had inspired her deeply moving poem. I hope to meet her in person this summer when I travel to Portland, Oregon.

Joy Sullivan, author of Instructions for Traveling West, is one of the living poets I follow on social media.  Her Substack, Necessary Salt, captivates me with each new post.  I think what I find most enthralling is the sheer glory she finds in everyday moments.  I invite you to go on a living poet journey to find new writers throughout the month.  Use their work to inspire your own, even borrowing their style and a line or two to frame your own poem.  You can find living poets at Teach Living Poets, Poetry Foundation, and by using search engines to discover others. 

Process

I’ve selected a poem by Joy Sullivan to get us acquainted with each other using the title alone: The cashier at the gas station asks me where I’m from.  Here is the poem free to download from Pinterest. 

Choose a person and setting (i.e. cashier at the gas station, pastor at church, mysterious stranger at the bar, waitress at a restaurant, passenger on an airplane, etc.) and introduce yourself.  Title your poem as Joy Sullivan does, and offer us a glimpse into your world.

My Poem

The Soapmaster of Green Willow Soaps asks me where I’m from

so I tell her: an hour south of Atlanta

because no one has ever heard of this place

and besides, these towns are so tiny we all just say

                      Pike County

which is small enough to spit watermelon seeds

across, where the sunsets rival Titian red

when we look over Alabama-way

but what I don’t tell her as I place bars of 

Mountain Mist, Morning Citrus, and Purple Haze

into my arm basket

is that I’m plotting retirement in these mountains

sipping black coffee on my porch

         in the shadows of Blue Ridge 

channeling inner birdsong and crystal-splashing waterfalls

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VerseLove Day 3: Ekphrastic Poetry

Today’s Host, Melissa, lives the Rocky Mountains.  She invites us to explore ekphrastic poetry today. She explains: Ekphrasis poetry is inspired by art. This style of poetry typically involves a verbal description or interpretation of the artwork, aiming to create a new artistic experience through the intersection of poetry and visual art.

She shares her process: Look at some art–photographs, sculptures, paintings, etc. How would you describe this piece of art? How does the art make you feel? Where does the art take you? Does the art have a deeper meaning or backstory that maybe one cannot see but needs to explore with words? Does the art bring back memories?

Popping Back for Popping Peachy

Scrolling back through my pictures

my heart aches when I see them ~

flamingoes at The Flamingo

in Las Vegas, Nevada

***

I’d stood and admired them

each morning

safe in their habitat, rescues all

trusting the hand that feeds them

preening demurely for guests

unaware of their own beauty

***

one week later

Peachy was assaulted

birdnapped, tortured by

a deranged tourist turned felon

before authorities came to the rescue

once again

***

felon bully says he’s a farm boy

who knows his birds

how to pop a wing

back in place

***

sounds like he needs a few of his own

appendages popped back in place

{I’m a farm girl – and I volunteer}

Update: Click this link for an update on Peachy