Denise Krebs of California is our host today for National Poetry Month in #VerseLove (my theme for April is Poems). She inspires us to write a 4 x 4 today. The 4 x 4 with its repeating line is one that I will add to my more frequent writing. It has four stanzas of four lines with four syllables in each, and the refrain moves in each stanza from position 1 to 2 to 3 to 4.
journeyer’s heart traveling shoes climbing mountains rapt in wonder
mailing postcards taking photos traveling shoes soaking it in
living each day finding my way forging new paths traveling shoes
Postcards ready to mail Windows and mind open to the journey at the Grove Park Inn in Asheville, NCWith special thanks to Two Writing Teachers at Slice of Life
Jennifer Guyor Jowett is our host today at wee.ethicalela.com for VerseLove. She inspires writers to use burrowing seeds from other poems to inspire an original poem. I have taken a line from Jennifer Jowett’s poem and one from my writing group buddy Kevin’s this morning to inspire my writing as I sit just feet from the two rooms at the Grove Park Inn where F. Scott Fitzgerald summered as a place of respite as he wrote The Great Gatsby. Fran Haley, another of my writing friends, has a photograph of her sitting in his room at his desk. Oh, how I would love that experience. I strolled Gibbs Gardens in Ball Ground, Georgia yesterday and was inspired by Jennifer’s line Turn Seed to Stem, and write this morning hoping F’s fingers are ghostly guides of mine this morning with Kevin’s lines Keep watch for dust, falling in flight as I keep peeking for orbs or shadows of F.
I touched F’s door, April 4, 2022 at the Grove Park Inn
Keeping Watch for F
Turn seed to stem Bees buzz on a whim
Tulips yellow, tulips red Tulips tucked in loamy beds
Daffodils yellow, orange, white Grove Park Inn on moonlit night
Drinking mules by stone fireplace Kicking back, vacation pace
Across the hall from Fitzgerald’s room Gatsby ghosts in Grand Ballroom
Thoughts when scattered germinate Writing fingers celebrate
Turn seed to stem, touch his door Write the morning on F’s floor
Keep watch for dust, falling in flight And ghosts in hallways, orbs of light
Are his fingers guiding mine? These sacred moments – – so divine!
On March 21, our ethicalela host Chiara inspired us to write a Looking Up poem. I’m sharing my poem from March today. My mother’s last coherent words to my father were “You take care of these dogs.” I think about those words this morning as I write.
Christening Wild Onions
stepping out into the cold morning darkness with the boys not heeling pulling like Iditarod dogs off the porch racing toward the grass to sprinkle the wild onions
roosters asking roosters answering throughout the countryside
the distant sound of tires on pavement faint steam rising from christened onions
I look up
Good morning, Mom! I’m taking care of these dogs. I smile at the stars
Lori L. and Gae P. also challenged us to write a collaboration poem using a line from another poet and saying, “You’ve been poemed!” Here is my collaboration poem for this day, having taken a line from Gae’s poem – growling, rawr, rawr, rawr. Gae and Lori, what a beautiful form born out of friendship! Thank you for inspiring us! We have indeed been opened today! I’m taking a line and running with it!
morningsounds
my stomach growling “rawr, rawr, rawr,” splatter of water in the shower Tingle jingle of dog tags Tick tick tick of paw feet Lick lick lick of grooming Hummmmm of refrigerator Drummmmmm of rain on the roof Whirrrrr of hair dryer Slide glide of pocket door Creaking of floor, house settling Throughing of Keurig brewing Plop plop of Kcup drops Whish-splish of toothbrush scrub
Day 2 of 30 of #VerseLove (My theme for April is Poems)
Emily Yamasaki, our host for Verse Love today, uses a mentor poem Things I Have Memorized by Maria Giesbrecht to inspire us to write a list poem of things we know or have memorized or any similar list of things. In the mornings on my way to work, I don’t listen to the radio. About five years ago, I declared my car my prayer chamber for my work commute. I pray my way to work with a fairly memorized order of prayer, adding and rearranging along a basic prayer list. I like the ACTS method – Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, Supplication, and some days I use that as a guide when I’m in between meetings or feeling the need for a quick prayer hug. And thought I shouldn’t be, I am continually amazed at the peace that this brings to my heart.
My Prayer
Thank you, Lord, for this day – for our health, for our blessings, for our family, for your love.
Forgive us of our sins and all those bad thoughts I sometimes think and words I mumble.
Be with our MAMA children – with Mallory, Marshall, Ansley, Andrew and the ones who love them – the other Andrew, and Selena and any you are preparing to join our family.
Be with our BRASS Grandchildren – Beckham, River, Aidan, Saylor, and Sawyer, and keep them healthy and safe. Help them grow in Your love and wisdom.
Be with Dad and Ken, help them to make good choices, and be with us, too Lord, helping us to love and be patient and kind to one another. Help us to stay healthy and safe. And loving. And knowing how to respond to others and to situations.
Be with all those who are sick and suffering, who have lost their way. Bring them peace.
Guide us in our work that we will be good servants and good stewards.
Guide us with lights along the path to keep us focused on the trek you have planned for us.
Stay by our sides and keep us focused on the purposes you have for us.
Stay close and hear us as we pray throughout the day.
Thank you to EthicalELA.com for giving writers space, audience, and voice!
Day 1 of 30 of #VerseLove (my April theme is Poems)
Bryan Ripley Crandall opens National Poetry Month at #VerseLove (come check it out at http://www.ethicalela.com) with an invitation to write an acrostic. Today, I’m writing a version of acrostic called a Hashtag Acrostic – an acrostic that is written with words that “hashtag” photos in words that capture personalities or hobbies. I’m hashtagging my 3 schnoodles – Boo Radley, Fitz, and Ollie – who bring pure joy to my life! They’re my Literary Trio. Boo Radley is named from a character who was behind a door in one scene of the book To Kill a Mockingbird (our Boo was abandoned in a duplex, found behind a door); Fitz came to us as Henry (he was, in fact, Henry David Thoreau reincarnated we believe, but we changed his name to Fitz for F. Scott Fitzgerald, the party animal of The Great Gatsby, in hopes that he would perk up…..but what’s in a name stuck with him at Henry and wouldn’t budge); and Ollie is named for my favorite poet, Mary Oliver, who reminds me to take note of the beauty of nature and all it reveals to us.
With special thanks to Slice of Life for giving writers inspiration, space, and voice
Slice of Life Day 31 of 31: Journeys (my March theme)
Journeys through ordinary days lead us to extraordinary people and places.
In Atlanta, Georgia in 2016 while I was attending the NCTE Convention, I was doing what every other attendee was doing but never admits: numbering my preferred sessions in each time slot, then positioning myself strategically close to a door in case my first choice didn’t pan out the way I’d hoped, praying in advance to not appear to be one of those rude attendees.
Dr. Sarah Donovan was moving through the conference room placing her contact cards on the chairs. I picked up the card and placed it as a bookmark in my conference catalog for my second choice session – just in case. But as she began her presentation, I was captivated by the way she engaged her audience.
I would not be sneaking out of this session seeking a second choice.
At the end of the session, she announced, “If you’ll look on the back of your card, a few of you have won a free book. Please come see me to get your copy.” I shook her hand and thanked her for my copy of Alone Together, unaware of the places it would take me.
The following spring, I pledged to write every day during #VerseLove at her site http://www.ethicalela.com to celebrate National Poetry Month. A host gave a prompt and a mentor poem, and participants wrote their own verses, shared them with the group, and everyone commented on at least three other poems.
When #VerseLove ended, I was hungering for the same manna that had fed me all of April when I hadn’t even realized I hungered for words and creative expression. I emailed Sarah to let her know how much the month had meant, and found that several others were also hoping for a more frequent writing community. Today’s Open Write was born from those seeds of need that bloomed and grew, all because Sarah listened and forged a way.
I’m grateful for all that Dr. Donovan has cultivated in her writing group. She is the reason that I write daily and have come to be a host for prompts in April that will now carry Slice of Life daily writing into the next month as I transition from prose to verse. I’m also grateful for Two Writing Teachers who broaden the spectrum of blogging, allowing tiny slices of life, concentrated moments, to create habits that drive me to stop whatever I’m doing in the midst of life and write what inspires me. Prose writing is sharpened and refined through verse writing, where every word, every form, every technique is practiced and woven into the fabric of other writing.
At the end of slicing through March last year, I took on the April verse challenge. At the end of April, I thought,I’ve written 1/6 of the year. I could do this every day. So I do.
I celebrated one full year of daily writing at the end of February all because Slice of Life and #VerseLove gave me a drive to be an ultramarathon writer – even just a few steps each day of my journey. I find a monthly theme is helpful, and I outline my plans at the beginning of each month so the well doesn’t run dry. i also reflect on my One Little (not so little) Word for the year: Listen. I learn a lot of lessons from Listen!
In 2017, the NCTE Convention was in Houston, Texas, home of NASA. The Space Museum lay under my feet on the floor beneath the session I attended with Sarah Donovan one year after I first met her, and I couldn’t help thinking of the past year’s writing and all the ways teachers launch rockets by inspiring others. That’s what Sarah and Two Writing Teachers and other similar groups do, and as teachers, that is what we do. We spark interests in students that take them to the moon and back and everywhere in between.
Thanks again to Two Writing Teachers for a month of inspiration, space, voice, and challenge for the March launch into Year 2 of daily writing.
With special thanks to Slice of Life for giving writers inspiration, space, and voice
Slice of Life Day 30 of 31: Journeys (my March theme)
Kayaking Gould’s Inlet with Boo Radley, Summer 2018
On my childhood home of St. Simons Island, Georgia, occasionally visits include pleasant paddles through the marshes of Glynn County with my brother, husband, and dad. Gould’s Inlet is our favorite kayaking off the coast of St. Simons for all of its pristine beauty and abundant wildlife. Pleasant all depends on the season, the weather, and the tides.
And the compadres.
Knowing the tides and knowing the marshes, though, is key. Embarking on the course requires a guide – one who knows as well as the back of his hand the markers, the turns, the shortcuts, the quickest way back to shore from any given point.
Recognizing patterns is important along the journey. They indicate when to bail, when to paddle on.
Plans and preparations, too, are critical. Having enough (water, sunscreen, sunglasses, paddle, whistle, life vest, dog) but not too much is essential.
As in life. Sometimes we bail, but always we paddle on.
With special thanks to Slice of Life for giving writers inspiration, space, and voice
Slice of Life Day 29 of 31: Journeys
Fourteen years ago today, we got married. The journey of a marriage is unlike any other trip we’ll ever take in this life. Our journey began……well, with a wreck.
We met in church, set up by a triple team of his mother, his brother, and my college roommate. They predicted some hopeful chemistry between us.
One Sunday after church in April 2007, I saw him striding my way across the parking lot, smiling the smile of a happy man, his hand extended to shake mine and introduce himself. He had on the second most hideous tie I’d ever seen (the first being one made of rabbit fur by the wife of a deacon that had prompted bowed heads and averted eyes like witnesses to a train wreck when the deacon had turned around to face the congregation holding the offering plate after the Doxology). It was abundantly clear to me that with a tie like this with a pair of tigers emblazoned on it, there was no other love interest on the sidelines giving him any assistance on what not to wear.
The actual tie
But the confident smile and the way he carried himself told me I might want to meet him for lunch at Papa Willie’s Barbecue in Williamson, Georgia as he offered. Lunch turned into dinner before he asked if I wanted to go on a second date to ride through the rural countryside on his motorcycle to see the beauty of the county’s back roads. I reluctantly agreed, and just as I’d imagined, the second date was the cut point. My own fears and insecurities, inner demons I couldn’t ignore, shut all future promise down. I rejected a third date there on the concrete picnic table in Williamson as we drank orange Gatorade.
A week later, as my son’s graduating class threw their caps in the air, I got a text from a friend.
Have you heard about the wreck? Call me.
I had a four hour drive home that night, long enough to hear all about the car that had crashed through the Mojo’s Wings restaurant window and pinned his parents underneath it as they’d sat near the window holding hands across the table. The window had sounded like an explosion as it shattered, shooting shards of glass in all directions, cutting his face as he was placing his order at the counter. Miraculously, no one was killed, as horrific as it had been.
My friend and I organized our plan to bring a meal of raisin ham, scalloped pineapple, and sweet tea to the family as part of our church’s meal train once they were all home from the hospital.
He was staying with his parents, assisting them as they recovered, and avoided my eyes after greeting us and thanking us for the food. As I studied him, I saw a man, injured, taking care of his parents through a nightmare of a freak accident. A man who appreciated the beauty of the countryside so much that he had made it a date. A man divorced for sixteen years, whose mother had kept telling him that God would bring him the woman right for him- not to settle along the way out of impatience. And I knew in my heart I had acted irrationally by turning down that third date.
I got home and sent him a text asking if he wanted to talk. He did. So we talked on the phone late into the night – about the accident, about the graduation, about family, about aspirations and goals and dreams. And we planned a third date to the Griffin City Park, where we sat on the swing and talked all afternoon about more of everything. One thing was crystal clear: he communicated. A lot.
And so we continued going on the kinds of dates where we interacted- dinner, the aquarium, the park, long drives, festivals, dog walks, the simple places filled with beauty – not the kind where we watched a movie. We took an active interest in each other.
On that swing in the Griffin City Park is right where he proposed to me on February 16, 2008, with a smashed Cracker Jack ring I’d found in the parking lot of a Gordon Lightfoot concert. He’d somehow fished this mangled piece of metal out of my pocket without my knowing, resurrected it, breathed new life into something once twisted and smashed and flattened beyond recognition, and proposed with it- promising me a lifetime of love and commitment, telling me he wanted us to go together to pick out a better ring.
Resurrected proposal ring
Down on one knee in a royal blue button down shirt and a pair of jeans, he asked me to be his wife as a matching royal blue car (unplanned) drove past with a teenage boy hanging out the passenger side window, celebrating and fist pumping the air as I said “YES!”
And we married in a small church ceremony just over a month later.
I thought about that tiger tie long after I’d walked down the aisle wearing a pair of strappy sandals I’d spray painted to match the shimmery glitter in my gown, after I’d held my head out the window of the car to dry my hair on the way to the altar, where someone told me I needed lipstick before walking down the aisle. What free-spirited hippie wearing spray painted glittery wedding sandals with wind-blown hair and passing thoughts of lipstick can judge a tacky tiger tie? (A tie he still wears, a tie that has grown on me).
With glitter spray painted sandals, wind-dried hair, and passing thoughts of lipstick, who am I to judge a tacky tie?
Today, I’m grateful that at least one of us remembers it’s our wedding anniversary. Because on year ten, he sat bolt upright in bed when we were just on the verge of sleep, and asked, “Do you remember what today is?”
With special thanks to Slice of Life for giving writers inspiration, space, and voice
Slice of Life Day 28 of 31: Journeys (my March theme)
I’ve done some traveling on foot, on bicycle, (attempted) unicycle, by motorcycle, by car, by bus, by plane and train, by ferry, by boat, by tram, by subway and trolley. But perhaps the most unique way I’ve ever traveled is by submarine.
Enjoying coral reefs of Cozumel, Mexico
We took my in-laws on a fiftieth anniversary cruise a couple of years before my mother-in-law died of brain cancer in February 2021, and at the time of the cruise, she had already begun growing unsteady on her feet. We had wondered, but we didn’t yet know why. We looked for ways to take excursions and still get the full benefit of enjoyment in Cozumel and Grand Cayman. We’d worn shirts identifying us as a family in celebration, and that’s exactly what we intended to do, despite the nagging fears that a far more difficult journey lay ahead.
Cozumel is known for some of the most beautiful coral reefs in all the world, and although we were not able to see them by snorkeling, we arranged a submarine tour to enjoy the sights beneath the surface of the clear blue waters. We’d earned fancy certificates with all the thrill of certified tourists who had braved the depths of the waters of the Gulf of Mexico.
Certificate of Immersion
I reflect today on the life of my mother in law, who never met a stranger, who embraced life wholeheartedly and who instilled in my husband all the qualities of being the fine gentleman that he is. The truth is, the rest of us would have preferred snorkeling, swimming in the warm waters, the up-closeness of the beautiful fishes and colorful reefs. But on that day, we found a way to all be together and enjoy the scenery in an even more unique way – the way of a family in celebration!
“Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you.” – Exodus 20:12
With special thanks to Slice of Life for giving writers inspiration, space, and voice
Slice of Life Day 27 of 31: Journeys (my March theme)
Today my son turns 33. He’s my middle child of my octane trio, born in the years 87, 89, and 93 – the gas pump years. Today, we celebrate his annual journey around the sun.
Throwing the cast net
As a child, he wore his cowboy boots on the wrong feet and rarely took them off. He played with his toy horses for hours on end and was our little hoot owl who almost never slept. He rode his horse Slick in the Bluffton Christmas parade each year, sporting his chaps. And after long days of camping trail rides with his grandparents, he’d return to camp to barrel race.
He is not a connoisseur of foods outside the mainstream menu, once threatening to turn us in to the captain of a ship when he found out he had eaten a piece of octopus we had put on his plate.
My son is an athlete – a soccer player turned runner whose sport took him through college to meet the woman of his dreams. He married her on a mountaintop in Sevierville, Tennessee, under an arbor her father made from the trees on that land. Her grandfather and his grandfather, both pastors, tied the knot extra-tight. Three labs and four children later, they live a stunningly beautiful but simple life on the marsh in South Carolina, kayaking and fishing and spending time together in ways that matter. He builds houses, but knows the difference between a house and a home and makes his family his priority.
He once called me to ask my favorite Bible verse. “Hebrews 11:1,” I told him – “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”
A few days later, he sent me a picture of his tattoo that says “Faith.” He is the last of my trio to be inked.
I’m so proud of him, of them. Behind every good man is an amazing woman – and oh, we are so richly blessed by her. She is beautiful inside and out, and we stand with her today as we celebrate our Marshall. Happy birthday, Son!
Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.
Common Threads 