Category: Gratitude

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Day 10 of #VerseLove with Joanne Emery

Photo by travis blessing on Pexels.com

Our host today at http://www.ethialela.com for Day 10 of #VerseLove2024 is Joanne Emery, who inspires us to borrow ideas and lines from another poem to inspire our own. You can read her full prompt here, along with the poems and comments of others.

She explains her process: Find a line in the poem that stands out to you, expresses something about yourself. Then continue the poem while reflecting how you live your life. 

We used Jane Hirschfield’s poem My Life Was the Size of My Life, and I borrowed this line from hers:

and closed its hands, its windows

I also chose one from Joanne’s poem Larger than My Life

with perfect white teeth, smiling

Keystones

our house with keystones

with perfect white teeth, smiling

to raise our children

you pulled all its teeth

and closed its hands, its windows

we bloomed in the dark

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Day 9 of #VerseLove2024 with Denise Krebs: List Poems

Denise Krebs of California is our host today for #VerseLove2024. She inspires us to write List Poems. You can read her full prompt here. I’ve added some pictures, just for fun – – a quick glimpse of our wedding weekend on St. Simons Island, Georgia, where my brother Ken and his bride Jennifer were wed on Saturday afternoon. Narrowing it down to the top ten – – that was a tough challenge!

I love a list poem because it doesn’t have to rhyme, it can be random, and it can be completely out of order or it can run in a countdown fashion to the top of the list. Mine is random, and it’s a photographic prose list poem, a blend of all my favorite kinds. I could not pick a single favorite moment.

Top 10 Wedding Weekend Moments

Straight-from-the-soul smiles on my brother and his bride’s faces, so full of happiness and love,

meeting my brother’s new family and feeling both sides merge into one big family,

getting a new sister-in-law,

placing flowers on the altar in memory of our mothers,

seeing the shoes of my son and husband and feeling them lift me up when I fell,

watching the dads dance – one with a cane, one with bionic knees, but believe it: these two can groove,

watching my brother watch the love of his life come down the aisle,

spending time with extended family and close family (5 of our 6 grandchildren),

figuring out how to win the dinner bill argument with my son since I own nearly one million shares of Shiba Inu (only worth about $25.00 total at .00002 a share, but hey – – it worked),

playing and having a picnic in the parks and hearing my 5 year old grandson’s response when I tried to tell him my ice cream was mashed potatoes and he took the folded arm stance and firmly stated, “that’s impossible!” (they all got ice cream).

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Day 6 of #VerseLove with Katrina Morrison

Katrina Morrison is our host today at http://www.ethicalela.com for the sixth day of #VerseLove2024. Her prompt inspires writers to share a photo and write a poem from our photo stream on our phones.

She explains how: Select a photo from your photostream or capture an image of a photo you have on hand. Ideally, you should appear in the photo. If you remember what was going on in the photo, draw from your memories to recreate the scene. If you do not remember what was happening when the photo was taken, use your imagination to create a scene. 

I chose a photo from yesterday’s wedding rehearsal. My baby brother is getting married today at 4:30 on St. Simon’s Island, Georgia, and we could not be happier for him and his bride.


They Do

these two join hands, hearts

forever as one today

my brother, his bride

their blind date restored

hope, led to love, commitment ~

two become one flesh

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Day 5 of #VerseLove with Leilya Pitre – Friday Night Date Night Poems

Photo by Elina Sazonova on Pexels.com

Leilya Pitre of Louisiana is our host at http://www.ethicalela.com today for our fifth day of #Verselove. You can read her poem here, along with the poem and comments of others. She inspires us to write a date night poem (about a memorable date or a standing date) using sevenlings. To write a sevenling, here is the form:

  1. Think about two contrasting ideas, concepts, people, or events (e.g., good/evil, humor/satire, war/peace, light/darkness, optimist/pessimist, flowers/weeds, etc.)
  2. Write a three-line stanza containing three things about the first one (description or explanation)
  3. Write another three-line stanza containing three other things about the second word. You may oppose the first stanza to the second or try to find some commonalities.
  4. The final line should present a kind of a punchline, a surprise, or an unusual, even oxymoronic conclusion.
  5. Add a title.

Here is my Sevenling: The Swing. 

The Swing

I said NO to a third date.
NO WAY. NEVER AGAIN.
I was running scared, hurt.

But you waited.
You asked again:
Let's go to the park, sit in the swing.

And God winked on us forever.
Actual swing where he proposed on February 16, 2008

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Day 4 of #VerseLove with Jennifer Jowett, inspiring us with Alphabeticals

Donkeys on the south side of the Funny Farm

Today, Jennifer Jowett of Michigan is our host at http://www.ethicalela.com for our fourth day of #VerseLove 2024. She offers a spectacular Alphabeticals prompt, using letters of the alphabet to create a poem. You can read her full prompt and the poems of others here.

My mind went straight to the farm as I looked at the letters on the keyboard. There’s a whole world of things to see if you let your eyes see what is held in each letter. Donkeys belonging to someone in our area keep getting loose, and my sister in law and I helped some other neighbors for two hours on Tuesday trying to trailer them, finally herding them into another neighbor’s fenced pasture. When they turned up in her yard again Wednesday, we decided to just make friends with them – they’re not halter trained, and we think they are lonely and seeking the companionship of humans.

They know they’ve found folks who are friendly. They’d rather live here on the Funny Farm, where things are amusingly quirky. 

RELAXing on the Funny Farm

R hangs out in the
barn, his back against the wall
relaxing cowboy

E stalls two horses
or goats or donkeys or mules
safe from elements

L stands firm, holds reins
hitching post for keeping us
right where we belong

A swing for sweethearts
porch side sunset views, sweet tea
two-strawed Mason jar

X makes a manger
to feed all of God’s creatures
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Awakenings at 1828 Coffee Company – an Evening of Poetry Slice of Life Day 30, Stafford Challenge Day 74

SpSpecial thanks to Two Writing Teachers
 Spellbound by Poetry

we, in one accord
listened ~ hung on every word
our hungry hearts heard

Thursday night’s reading of Awakenings by Clayton Moon in our local coffee shop on the town square to kick off our town’s celebration of National Poetry Month was a heartwarming cross-section of intergenerational bridging that nothing but poetry can build. From teenagers to young adults to middle-agers to seniors, we were all listening in one accord as we hung on every word.

Before I welcomed Clayton to the microphone, I shared the impact of a writing community not only in the writing, but in the day to day living – the motivation to learn new things, to try new things, to notice new things. I shared with those who’d come that I would be sharing poems written by living poets from across the United States during the month of April. I began by sharing a definition poem illuminating our theme of awakenings, written by our friend Fran Haley of North Carolina. I shared each canvas, one at a time, describing how they would hang ladder-style in the window of the Chamber of Commerce with eye hooks and chain once the display was complete. #4 brought smiles, the kind I could tell were deep from within, the knowing satisfaction of a feeling.

Here are some photos of the kickoff event for our town’s poetry celebration.

Definition poem by Fran Haley
Clayton “Boxer” Moon reads from his book Awakenings

Clayton, who goes by Boxer for most of us who know him, shared his book, written from the awakening to the brewing of the coffee to the first cup, the second cup, the third cup, and the dregs. His featured poem, The Heart of Nahoo, offered a tribute to retired educator Dr. Dan Dunnahoo, who was our county’s long-time art teacher and who now is the president of the Pike County Arts Council and who restored the coffee shop and preserved its history right down to saving each nail and floorboard.

Boxer’s books and Sarah’s art – they collaborate on father/daughter books that he writes and she illustrates
Boxer reads to the crowd
Boxer (L), Dr. Dan Dunnahoo (C), and Sarah (R) stand with an excerpt of Boxer’s tribute poem for Dan.
Three people who didn’t know each other an hour ago write poetry together – this is why we need more of it!
This young lady wrote a Cento poem in a short time – she used the poetry kiosk sticks and wrote hers in colorful letters.
One of our town’s short story writers came out to support poetry writing and hear Clayton read.
Our town’s Magistrate Judge talks with Sarah and Melinda Moon, Clayton’s wife and daughter
Ethan Jacobs’ Cento Poem on a magnetic poetry kiosk

Ethan was our poet for our February event. He shared from is recently published book Dust. I also wanted to share a couple of photos from his event. We’re blessed to live in a town where authors, poets, and artists stand ready to share their talents with us!

Ethan Jacobs was our reader from February, and this is a photo from his Leap Day event.
Ethan Jacobs read from his book Dust on Leap Day in our coffee shop.

Come visit us in Georgia, have coffee, and read and write with us!

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Gratitude for Marshall – Slice of Life Challenge Day 27, Stafford Challenge Day 71

Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers
My son (r) with hunting face camo, and his buddy (l)

My middle child of my gas station Octane Trio, the one born in 1989, turns 35 today. He loves hunting, fishing, Nascar racing, and spending time with his family of 7, plus 3 labs. I’m proud of him – he makes good choices, and I was even fine with that mullet he had going on for a couple of years. He and his good buddy recently sent me the photo above, smiling and proud of the tickets they’d gotten for not having the proper number of life vests in their boat while they were out duck hunting (turns out they were warnings – which explains the smiles).

I asked him what he wanted for his birthday, and our conversation went something like this:

Screenshot

This got his attention. He knew I’d find a book about how salt marsh species cooperate to survive the harsh conditions of the marsh. I learned it throwing quadrants in the marsh when I took marine biology at University of South Carolina, where he also graduated years later. Spartina marsh grass survives in extreme salty conditions because the periwinkle shells attached to the base thrive on salt and take it in. In this way, both species can survive.

There is a story there for another time, but I guess he didn’t want to learn more about the marshgrass in his back yard. He replied, thoughtfully, moments later:

Screenshot

Since I haven’t physically seen him since Christmas and know my own battles with quick weight change, I asked about the size. I decided on the medium, but wanted him to know to be on the lookout for the gifts since sometimes with prankster kids (who learned it from him), a box might disappear off the front porch before anyone knew it was ever there. I put him on alert:

Screenshot

I am so proud of my son and wish him the happiest birthday ever. His family loves him too!

Screenshot
Birthday Surprise Haiku

he's getting a shirt
and a camouflaged fan cap
but not a surprise.
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Chasing Sunrise – Stafford Challenge Day 70, Slice of Life Challenge Day 26

Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers

I was three minutes late to work one day last week because I was chasing the sunrise. If you’ve ever been on the backside of nowhere in the rural Georgia countryside between 7:45 and 8:00 just after the time springs forward, you’ve seen it: the most gorgeous glowing coral red sunrise ever, so rich and fiery it could be an over-easy orange yolk of a just-laid Buff Orpington egg, the kind still warm upon cracking into the pan, the kind that mesmerizes folks who’ve never seen a yolk so unhormonally free-ranging fresh, that didn’t come from a carton in a store.

Sometimes that egg yolk sun’ll be right in front of you, as it is when it’s waiting for me like a dog who wants to play chase, right at the end of my eastside driveway first thing in the morning on my way to work. Then, it’s like I’ve tossed it a stick. It takes off to the left when I turn south, then stays left when I head back east, only a little lefter than before. At the stop sign, it’s still left, just not as behindish, and then when I turn back to the south right before I turn back east again, I’m approaching what I know is THE MOST beautiful sunrise ribbon of roadway in the entire county and maybe all of Georgia, maybe even all of the southeastern United States or the world or the universe.

And sometimes I slow waaaaaaay down just to take it all in, if there’s nobody behind me.

Photo by Konevi on Pexels.com
How to Chase a Sunrise

I was late for work
watching the sun dance

she curtseys 
through the countryside
a morning meringue
of slide-stepping
just over the next hill, to
do-si-do the meadows

pirouetting periwinkle pasture
just around the next bend
then

stopping to spin
like a 
March Madness
basketball
on the courthouse
clock steeple 

reminding me I'm late

that's how
you chase a
glorious
countryside
sun
           e
       s
    i
r
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Tight Lids – Slice of Life Challenge Day 24, The Stafford Challenge Day 68

Photo by Jill Burrow on Pexels.com
Our first camping weekend of 2024, and we arrived in heavy rain on our favorite campground within an hour from home.  It's pretty full - campers pepper the campground, and kids are out on brightly lit hoverboards, while others are riding bikes and playing frisbee.  Folks are walking their dogs (and vice-versa), and one site had its smokeless fire ring going this morning after the drizzle stopped and there was a damp chill for the reckoning.  

The dogs were nestled back in the crook of the teardrop on the bed, under blankets like little humans, their heads resting on the pillows in a deep schnoodle-snooze.  

I was making the coffee for breakfast when the sweetest moment happened - one I shall never forget, connected to another moment that I shall also never forget.

The first one happened in May 2013, when I got my fingers slammed in the trunk of the honeymoon getaway car at my son's wedding as the happy couple were leaving.  I assured everyone I was fine, fine, fine, but as we drove back to the hotel, I cried and carried on because I was afraid I would never be able to write again since I couldn't bend my fingers yet and they looked a lot like a package of Ballpark franks after being in a sandwich press.  It sent my husband into such a panic that this moment of fear became forever etched into his scrapbook of memories he'd rather forget.  But I was fine, am fine, nothing broken or chopped off. 

Which makes this morning's moment all the more special.  

I handed him
the water
bottle
as I 
made 
coffee

more and more
recently
I've handed 
him 
tight lids

I apologized ~
my hands
don't have
the
strength
they used
to have
I explained
again

it’s a scary 
feeling, this
change
of
neediness

He smiled
took the
bottle
uscrewed 
the lid
handed 
it back

his words
brought 
reassurance
of the
deepest
kind

.....but 
they 
can still
write


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Messages in the Sound Machine – Slice of Life Challenge Day 23, The Stafford Challenge Day 67

Special Thanks to Two Writing Teachers for inspiring writers, especially sleepless ones.

#messages in the madness

The melatonin was working fine, just fine, I thought, but I figured either we had a rogue sound machine with broken buttons or that one of the machines was possessed. I kept hearing things, but my husband didn’t. Just like when the car starts making a sound, only not a car but a tiny little white noise machine.

So finally, finally – – he in his melatoninlessness began hearing mysterious sounds, too. I didn’t know whether to cry, be scared, or celebrate.

If your children tell you they hear funny voices at night, believe them and check the sound machine. They’re in there.

Photo by Mariana Montrazi on Pexels.com
our old fan broke
                but our new fan was too quiet 


     (they don't make 'em like they used to)

so
we bought a second 
                  sound machine 
                           the kind for babies
with the white noise

so we can both sleep
                      if one of us is traveling

but now I’m hearing 
                                              what he
can’t make out
                                   in all the white noise

                     in this Sound Spa machine

     we both hear
            all the usual things: rain, thunder, waves
                       crashing, crickets chirping, owls hooting

             but I roll over half asleep 
                           and I hear
                these:

        computer printer printing
                                                                              washing machine

                        pulsing monitor 

                                                      injured animal

                                                                             Moaning Myrtle
                                                             steel drums

                          robot sirens

                                              Amazon notifications

                   vintage typewriter return dings

                                                                         disco beats 

      messages in the machine

heard by one unpillowed ear

             I'm afraid next I'll hear a murder 
                                                                                                or a confession

                              or a ghost of a soldier who stood where I now sleep

                                             looking for his lost buttons
                                                                and his lost love



                                                                                                   no sleeping here