Category: Gratitude

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VerseLove Day 30: Closing Invitation

The final prompt for VerseLove 2026 yesterday was a touching invitation to write, sharing what our writing space has meant this month.

Sarah Donovan has a way of weaving community together like a cherished tapestry so that each voice and thought has a place, each poet shines. And I am in awe – of her, of her poetry, of every voice in my writing community that sustains me and brings joy to all my broken places. I can’t yet write or think or feel since Wednesday afternoon, when I had to hold my beloved Fitz for his last breath and release him…..but even without that little nose nudging me awake and those sweet little eyes staring into mine with full love, I’m better for having been Fitz’s person for the time we had him.

My buddy Fitz watching for deer

Celebrating Through The Tears: A Tribute to Poets in Community

my fingers won’t write
but one thing I know: poets
write hope in the grief

my heart won’t yet beat
but this I know: poets find
pulse in lifelessness

my breath won’t calm down
but what I know: poet friends
reach in, hold hands, sit

my eyes can’t see straight
but I know this: poet friends
jump in the tear pool 

my soul has a hole
and this I know: poet friends
share theirs to fill mine

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VerseLove Day 26: Poetic Cartography

Clayton Moon of Thomaston, Georgia is our host today for the 26th day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com, inspiring us to write poems as cartographers capturing the essence of place through the five senses. You can read his full prompt here.

Hands holding steaming coffee cup on porch railing with sunrise over rolling hills and mist
Enjoying a hot cup of coffee on a rustic porch overlooking a misty sunrise landscape.

Sipping Home

come sit by me

on my front porch

first light rouses, groggy

from the dark of night

into the glorious morning skies

over rolling hills

winking at morning songbirds

praising their Maker

in the misty morning breeze

even as wildfires rage

come sit beside me

raise your coffee to your lips

take the lid off

breathe deeply

in /out/ in/ out

because just like any place

you must take it all in

to experience the rich flavor ~

hear its drip

taste its roasted bean

smell its trademark aroma

feel its piping warmth

see its dark awakenings

against the light of the eastern sky

come sit with me

let’s sip home

together

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VerseLove Day 25: Slam Poems

I am working on a slam poem to go with today’s prompt at ethicalela.com for the 25th day of VerseLove, but meanwhile this sonnet is burning a hole in my paper, so I share this one today and may convert it to a slam poem later. For now, peace.

Older woman reading a handwritten letter at a kitchen table with plants and a cup of tea
A woman happily reads a letter while sitting at a wooden kitchen table with plants and a cup of tea nearby.

Nature Sonnet

a fragrant flower in the windowsill

a bookmark made of braided meadow grass

the signs of earth indoors my heart doth fill

I long to take a watercolor class

to plein-air paint the sunsets orange-red

that fireball sinking ‘neath horizons west

where scenes of Mother Earth are richly fed

her images in nature-tones finessed

I long to write earthsongs in lilting verse

to feel cool breezes blowing through each line

as raindrops on fresh soil my soul immerse

as fragrant as bright morning glory vine

at every turn the earth extends her hand

inspiring me to love her ev’ry land

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VerseLove Day 23: Lose, Loss, Lost

Our host today for the 23rd day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com is Scott McCloskey of Michigan, who inspires us to write poems of loss. You can read his full prompt here.

Enough

here you are, slumped

next to me

in our favorite

chair and a half

your warmth on my hip

resting peacefully

Gabapentin doing its work

for your pain

Thank God your

mouth is on the armrest

with one paw

protecting it

breathing the other way

with breath so bad

it might kill a buzzard

but for your human it’s

the sign of life

of your holding on

and already I know

chances are high that

your teeth and mouth ulcers

and bladder stones

may not be all that is lost

next week

I feel tears welling just

thinking about it

you, our rescue schnauzer

with no known age or past

all things uncertain except

one thing:

we are tenderly and fiercely

bonded, imprinted, paired

as forever buddies

you are here,

you are warm and safe,

and you are loved

in this moment

now

which is

enough

for this hour

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VerseLove Day 23: First Words

Denise Krebs lives in Yucca Valley, California, near Joshua Tree National Park. She is busy learning to write habeas corpus petitions and briefs to help immigrant neighbors, campaigning for a new congress person, and stocking the shelves of the best Friends of the Library bookshop in her area. She blogs at Dare to Care. I am blessed to call Denise a personal friend, with whom I’ve presented at NCTE Conventions, written with for years at ethicalela.com, and write with each month as part of a small group of writers as part of The Stafford Challenge. I’m happy to introduce you to Denise today.

Denise inspires us to write borrowed line poems in a new way. She shares her process: Choose a poem and write the first word of each line in a column down the side of your page. You can use the whole poem or just a stanza. You can use one of Jackson’s or choose another poem or stanza from someone else you are reading. Write a free verse poem letting the other poet’s words carry you. You might find that being held to one simple constraint, like having the first word in each line determined, can release more freedom in your poetry.

I’ve been dabbling in watercolor techniques lately, getting ready to step out into retirement and paint landscapes of the places I visit. I was inspired by Denise’s poem today when I thought of dust settling – – as if it ever really settles – – but my mind went to watercolor and stardust, and I used Lauren Camp’s poem Tonight the Sky Breathes from her collection In Old Sky as my borrowed first words. Lauren was the astronomer poet in residence at The Grand Canyon and is also a former poet laureate of New Mexico. I attended a session where she spoke last month, and I fell in love with her style and her themes of darkness and grief over the loss of her father.

White winged horse flying in a vibrant starry galaxy with moon and constellations

Pegasus Wins the Derby

wet on dry, vivid
Thunder cracks seep in
and settle in bold strokes
like horse hoof dust

Let wet on wet be
what carries racecloud churnings
night a stardust palette
washing teardrop stains into constellations

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VerseLove Day 18: Golden Hinge

Angie of Mauritius is our host today for the 18th day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com. You can read her full prompt here, inspiring us to write Golden Hinge poems, where the first line of the poem also reads vertically as the first words in each line, As a child, I got hooked on poetry in the pages of Childcraft by one poem that did it for me – Overheard on a Salt Marsh by Harold Monro, and so I took a line from Joy Sullivan’s Remember What It Was Like to Be a Kid? from her book Instructions for Traveling West to pay tribute to Harold Monro today.

Tribute to Harold Monro

have you found the jewel of language

you discovered in childcraft volume 1 when you

found the one with a nymph and a goblin in

the salt marsh mesmerized by an emerald necklace

jewel stolen from the moon

of your dreams, carried in your soul, this captivating

language of poetry still shimmering green?

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VerseLove Day 17: The Queen of Our Kitchens

Our host today for the 17th day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com is Kratijah, who lives in Mauritius, where she teaches English Language Acquisition and Language & Literature at Le Bocage International School. She inspires us to write poems about our kitchens in free verse, and you can read her full prompt here.

Hidden Signals

on the wall by the French doors

in my kitchen hangs a

framed notebook paper drawing

of a rolling pin

its heavy wooden body

completely out of orientation

with the writing at one end

as if the artist got bored

or hungry

or murderous

in some seminar long ago

in some other language

but rolling pins and art

and French doors

speak in a

universal female tongue

so I have a hunch

why my mother

gave me this framed

picture in 1985

when I married my

first husband

she never liked him

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VerseLove Day 15: Cascade

Our host today for VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com is Erica Johnson, who offers inspiration here in a new-to-me form of poetry called a cascade. These remind me of Pantoum poems. Erika explains: It’s a form created by Udit Bhatia and asks that the poet take each line from the first stanza of a poem and makes each one the final line in the stanzas that follow. This results in the poem resembling a tumbling waterfall, which was when I knew I needed to go look through my photos of waterfalls for inspiration!

Erika shares the process with us: Read over the cascade form and write out the pattern you wish to follow: tercet or quatrain.  I found that having the structure written as a reminder helped guide my writing.

My mind went straight to Gibbs Gardens, where I’d rather spend the day in flowers than at work. Here, you can check out the bloom report and see where I’d take you if you were spending the day with me. We’d have lunch at The Burger Bus and order daffodils to plant next season.

Let’s Play

I did not want to get up today
I’d like to sip coffee with friends in a cafe
talk books, catch up, paint daffodils, play

I’d drive to Ball Ground
stroll Gibbs Gardens’ spring blooms
I did not want to get up today

the tulips have opened, Monet’s pond awaits
I’d load up the girls for a quick getaway
I’d like to sip coffee with friends in a cafe

we’d laugh and share stories
take off work for the day
get a slow start, talk books, paint daffodils, play

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VerseLove Day 13 – Haibun of Clarity

Our host today at http://www.ethicalela.com for VerseLove is Ann Burg of New York, who inspires us to write haibun poetry. Haibun is a form that includes a prose passage to set the stage for a haiku, which immediately follows the prose. You can read her full prompt here. I reflected on a scene from Saturday morning as we ate breakfast.

The Head and The Feet

Saturday morning breakfast at the Country Kitchen on Pine Mountain we were waiting on our eggs and grits when I saw him shuffle past our table. A young and impatient mother with a crying child pitching a fit was stuck behind the elderly gentleman in in the aisle, clearly frustrated at his slow speed, in his ill-fitting sweatpants with black socks and orthopedic sandals. He veered right n the direction of the restroom and she squeezed left to her table, kid still screaming. My husband’s back was to the action as I gave the play-by-play. Notice him, I urged, when he comes back by. I thought it ironic that his orthopedic sandals looked like hiking sandals. Life can be cruel like that sometimes, but eggs arrive to scramble hard truths. I was taking a bite when my husband asked, Is that a veteran’s hat? We should buy his breakfast. And the next minute, this husband of mine – just like his mother would have done – excuses himself to walk by the man’s table to get a better look. And then I saw them talking. Why did tears fill my eyes? Why, here at this table, over eggs and bacon, coffee and grits and buttered biscuits with muscadine preserves, was I crying as I watched my husband place his hand on the shoulder of the old man and his wife as he thanked him for his service. I escaped to the gift shop to collect myself, wipe away the tears, before my husband returned with the scoop – as his mother would have done: it’s a veteran’s hat. He’s 78, was a sergeant in the Army, and he has four kids who are all currently serving in the military. His wife told me he has cancer, and when he finished chemo and his gray hair came back dark. And he always smiles. So we finished our last bites and I felt the tears welling again, excused myself to the restroom, and was almost fine until the old man walked by and place his hand on my husband’s shoulder in gesture of figuring out who’d treated them to breakfast. And I realized what we’d always said of ourselves when we walk into a place: I look down for snakes, he looks up for bees ~ and though we see things differently, we don’t miss what’s important.

I looked down, old feet

my husband looked up, saw him ~

a soldier marching

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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