Today, Stacey Joy of California is our host for the September Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. She is inspiring us to write odes today. I took inspiration from her poem and from Amy Van DerWater’s Dear Socks in writing an ode to the memories of my mother through the ways she still comes to me when I am missing her.
From Saturday through Wednesday, I will post the daily writing along with several other poems that were written during the poetry marathon I began yesterday morning at 8:00 a.m.. It ends at 8:00 this morning, and will contain one poem written each hour since then either by a friend/family member or by me. (Okay, I slept the night, but I wrote ahead and behind those hours of sleep because…..my meanness might have kicked in).
I’ll begin with today’s poem, written in the 6 a.m. hour, September 16, 2023: ODE – a poem of praise, often written directly to someone or something.
Memories of Miriam ~ An Ode – a poem of praise, often directly to a person or object
Dear Mom,
you come to me
in the missing
with tingly spots that
turn warm
in the heart,
help me exhale~ my
fingers circling my temples
bringing back
all the whens
of this Bernina
your fingers guiding
mine under the
foot, stitch by stitch
learning to sew
a lime green terrycloth
bathcover, now
sewing quilts
for your great grands
on your fine
Swiss machine
of hawks,
talons clutching wires
checking that
my seatbelt
is fastened
as I drive past,
shaking your pointing finger
if I forgot,
knowing that
whatever I’m
thinking at
that moment,
you’re there
in it
of strawberry figs,
last summer wave
just picked, my own
weakening fingers twisting
tender fruits free ~
canned this very
week, Mason jars
sealed tight
with summer’s
sweetened warmth
for coming winter
of spiced Russian tea,
the Tangy orange
and lemonade mixed
with clove, sugar
cinnamon and tea ~
a medicinal brush
of your invisible fingers
through my hair
in sore throat season
of rippled milkglass
with resurrection fern
springing to life
unfurling its brown
dry fingers
into open arms
green again
September 15, 2023 – The Kickoff – 8 a.m. hour – Kim Johnson
Haiku – a poem with three lines and seventeen syllables in 5/7/5 syllabicated lines
My Stir Stick
deep in the forest
a tiny tree takes root
reaches to sunlight
growing tall, falling
with a thud, destined to be
my coffee stir stick
September 15, 2023 – 9 a.m. hour – my son Marshall Meyer – Gogyoshi (a 5-line poem on any topic, and Marshall wrote two back to back gogyoshis, connected, about a recent fishing experience….and he wrote this within a half hour of when I requested a poem, which is what a poetry marathon experience is about – – birthing poetry meaningfully in a few intentional moments throughout the day). I’m so proud of him!
The experience is like no
other. The stalk and hunt is
on, wind and direction
matter. I’m in shin deep
water and the reds can feel
all vibrations.
Concentration is at an all
time high. Cast. The feel of
the exploding strike is like
no other.
September 15, 2023 – 10 a.m. hour – Found Poem by Kim Johnson – a Found Poem is a poem that is written by finding words on an existing page of print, lifting them out to stand alone as a poem. This one is taken from The Outsiders.
A Silent Moment
dawn mist
golden
gray to pink
a silent moment:
paint,
fresh in my mind,
like
nature’s flower;
down to day…
nothing can stay
September 15, 2023 – 11 a.m. hour – Jenga Poem – Kim Johnson
I let my son’s 9:00 poem inspire a title I found on a Jenga block and wrote this poem from the word blocks in my collection. To write a Jenga poem, select blocks and arrange them into a poem of words that stand alone or words that inspire lines mixed with your own words.
Casting a Line
choose your own
hopes for the future ~
murals unveiled:
ending or new beginning?
inspiring
another chance at life
every precious “breath”
how we have chosen
race against time
September 15, 2023 – Noon hour – Kim Johnson
Skinny – a poem with 11 lines, where first and last line repeat similarly in small number of words, and the rest of the lines have one word. Lines 2, 6, and 10 use the same word.
Owl
owl swoops down
gracefully
without
a
sound
gracefully
to
forest
ground
gracefully
owl swoops down



So many beautiful lines here! Wonderful work. The poem about your mother was incredibly touching. ❤️
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Thank you so much, Samantha! I appreciate your kind words. The older I get, the more my mother seems to lurk around in places.
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