Britt Decker, our host at www.ethicalela.com today for the Open Write, shares a prompt that proves that we walk by thousands of writing opportunities everyday. We walk in them, past them, heck – we wear them! She shows us how to take a t-shirt from our closet with words, a picture, or a memory that will inspire poetry. It's as simple as going to the closet and considering all the possibilities. I love how her t-shirts inspire a poem about her own need of distance between work and play. Read the prompt here, and consider writing with us. I bought a t-shirt at the NCTE conference in Anaheim, California last November with a message I enjoy sharing – your story matters. My poem is a 3x5 today - short and simple like an index card - three lines, five syllables.
Your Story Matters
you’re a child in God’s
great universe so
your story matters
Today is the second day of the February Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. Our host today is Britt Decker of Houston, Texas. You can read today’s prompt and other poems here. And you can also share your own! Britt inspires us to write a “Me, Too!” poem. I’m writing mine in memory of and gratitude for my mother, Miriam Haynes, who would have been 80 today. She died in December 2015 after a long battle with Parkinson’s Disease.
Miriam
I can’t be the only one whose mother sewed her own formal dresses,
who made matching clothes like in the Sound of Music, only not from drapes
who was known as the crab lady on the
pier of St. Simons Island, Georgia for her fisherwoman skills
who could fly fish and deep sea fish and throw a cast net, too
all while driving the boat.
I can’t be the only one whose mother could wiggle her ears, making us laugh
who could bring a dead plant back to life
who rescued dogs and made them family
who knew all the answers when no one else did.
I can’t be the only one whose mother didn’t have enough superlatives
for all the things she did so well.
I can’t be the only one wishing her mother a happy heavenly birthday today
missing the phone calls that made the world right again.
And I’m not.
My brother loved her, too
and our dad, who still sends us random pictures of precious moments,
reminding us how blessed we all were
are
forever will be
because of her.
Text and photo from Dad this morning: “She made the dress.”
Stacey Joy never fails to bring joyful and inspiring poetry prompts. Her free verse is a perfect way to begin this month’s Open Write. You can read it here on EthicalEla.com, and join us in writing today. The blackbirds are such beautiful symbols of the flight to freedom in the story, and on this weekend of the Great Backyard Bird Count when so many are counting birds, I’ll reflect back on this story and her poem and be reminded that freedom as people and as a nation is a blessing that took blood, sweat, and tears – and lives – to have and hold. She inspired me to choose an etheree to write about one of my favorites, also with a theme of freedom – The Legend of the Teddy Bear by Frank Murphy.
Today’s guest blogger is my father, Reverend Dr. Wilson Felix Haynes, Jr.
ON BROWNIES AND GOBLINS
I did not know anything about Brownies and Goblins until I ”stumbled” into a 1915 grade school textbook entitled The Brownies and the Goblins by N.M. Bantlay. To add enhancement to my early education, I did a quick read-scan of the well-illustrated volume, beautifully crafted. I came to understand their profile.
Brownies, or Hobgoblins, evolved in Scottish lore. They are fabled household spirits who are domestically inclined. They come out at night while households sleep and do beneficial tasks. These welcome visitors oversee needed chores, deplore slovenly work, prod the lazy, and are experts in hiding. Brownies are mostly male and appear in a characteristic form as little thick people. Scottish homes left cookies and cream to assuage their temperamental nature. Handle them with care!
The Brownies’ reputation for good work and a merry spirit made them good examples in children’s textbooks. They found their way into cartoons and advertising posters as “salesmen.” Brownies created a fortune in products, including Eastman’s Brownie camera. They go fishing, horseback riding, and travel the world. Brownies have had a hey-day in products. On posters they accompany soft drinks, cookies, coffee and soap. Any item that has a Brownie connection is a jewel.
The opening page grabs the reader of the children’s text:
Good morning to you, dear friends! We think it very fine To see your faces beaming Like the merry, bright sunshine.
Your hearts are beds of roses, That breathe their sweet perfume; And brownie folk all love you With a love as sweet as June.
I advocate for their return and am leaving a bowl of milk and cooking beside my fireplace. I need their prod, blessing, and spirit.
Check out Pinterest for some great ideas on building elf doors and fairy gardens in your own yard or in a public space that invites others to add to the creative magic!
What is missing from many of our days is a true sense that we are enjoying the lives we are living. It is difficult to experience moments of happiness if we are not aware of what it is we genuinely love. We must learn to savor small, authentic moments that bring us contentment. – Sarah Ban Breathnach, Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy
Some Saturdays, we get up and head over to the local coffee shop on our town square. My husband orders coffee, a cinnamon roll, and a slice of breakfast casserole. I take my Optavia breakfast fueling along with me and order black coffee. We sit at a table near the fireplace, where we chat and enjoy the meanderings of those, like us, ambling about town on a Saturday morning.
When he has extra errands to run that will take an hour or so, he’ll drop me off at the back door of the bookstore across the square, where the comfy chairs are circled around an oval coffee table, and I’ll gather a handful of books, grab a Cherry Coke Zero from the store fridge, and throw my feet up and read.
The place is magical from the moment you walk into the store. The smell of books greets you, and the floors creak under your feet as you browse the shelves. On the walls, there are watercolors and photographs by local artists for sale, and on the counters there is also handmade jewelry and other gifts. The new books are up front, along with the book club books that are lined up according to the month they’ll be discussed. The heart of the store is the used books – $3 for paperbacks, and $5 for hardbacks. And the lighting is warm and welcoming, giving the perfect ambiance for comfortable reading. Sometimes they play slow jazz.
I go straight to the travel and adventure books to see if there is anything obscure that grabs me, and I begin my book stack there. I mostly hang out in the nonfiction, perusing the shelves and searching the spines for titles that spark my interest. When I have one armful’s stack, I glance at the fiction and keep moving toward my chair – the one with the matching ottoman. I plop down, throw my feet up, pop my Coke top, and take a long swig as I begin with first glances at the books. What’s in the Table of Contents? When was it written? What does the back cover say? What’s the format, and do I like it? Is the print big enough? What do the pages feel like? Does it smell real?
I’m picky.
Two members of my writing group have recently books – Starting From Scratch, about teaching poetry, and Kitchen Table Wisdom, about womens’ wisdom from ancestors with answers. I order these, and then I chat with two of the owners. Karen leads the writing group, and we share what we’re writing. I meet her daughter and grandson. I speak briefly with another owner, Chris, who is headed out for lunch, but always asks what I’m reading – so I tell her I’m reading around the United States, and I’ve just finished Stephen King’s On Writing for the New England states and am narrowing down my choice for the Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, and Wyoming states. I’m leaning towards Midnight at the Bright Ideas Bookstore.
Today, I narrow it down to two books: The Iditarod Fact Book and The Happiness of Pursuit. And then I wonder: How am I going to meet my goal of getting down to two and a half bookcases if I bring more home? I think there is math involved: if I get rid of more than I take in, will it work? Somebody who can do math, please – tell me that it will. These are small, authentic moments that bring me contentment – – and books are what I genuinely love.
Yesterday was the last day of five days of January’s Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. Each month, this writing group gathers to write and give positive feedback to at least three other writers. I took a break yesterday to pause and give thanks for my daughter Mallory on her birthday.
Yesterday’s prompt was to write a Postcard Poem. Using a postcard or a blank index card, you draw a vertical line to separate the address and the poem on the writing side. Here’s my Haiku poem, prompted by a suspension bridge I crossed in December at Fall Creek Falls in Tennessee:
Today is the third day of five days of January’s Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. Each month, this writing group gathers to write and give positive feedback to at least three other writers. Please join us! Here is the direct link, where you can read about today’s host, Barb Edler of Iowa, and the inspiration she brings in her prompt: https://www.ethicalela.com/connecting-with-your-inner-self/
Today’s poem is about reflecting on our goals. I think this prompt was designed just for me! I’m reflecting on my goals the last day of each month in the areas of creativity, experience, literature, gratitude, reflection, self-improvement, and spirituality that I spent the first days of the year crafting and describing on my blog. Today, a Haiku is a great way to celebrate the journey:
I'm in No Hurry
praying for answers
wondering about outcomes
I'm in no hurry
seeking my weight range
closet-eating M&Ms
I'm in no hurry
Reading Around the
U.S.A - savoring words
I'm in no hurry
counting my blessings
focusing on gratitude
I'm in no hurry
Route 66 plans
dreams in the making: someday
I'm in no hurry
creative touches
camera-ready journeys
I'm in no hurry
family stories
capturing the past in ink
I'm in no hurry
slowing down the pace
seeing more of it ~ not more
I'm in no hurry
Today is the second day of five days of January’s Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. Each month, this writing group gathers to write and give positive feedback to at least three other writers. Our group currently has two anthologies of our published work, and today there is a third invitation to be part of another collection from the host. Please join us! Here is the direct link, where you can read about one of this month’s hosts, Glenda Funk from Idaho, and the inspiration she brings in her prompt: https://www.ethicalela.com/connecting-with-school-communities-in-the-aftermath-of-shootings-and-lockdowns/
Today’s prompt is to write a poem about the aftermath of school shootings in any form we choose. I chose to blend three chained Haiku poems with an acrostic.
In DespairIn airports, guns banned!
Not in schools - no one searches.
Dear students: we failed!
Empty nests: hearts grieve
Searching clouds for loved ones’ signs,
Parents pray for peace
As children take flight
Igniting grief eternal
Ripped souls in despair
We’re invited today to write Personal Letter poems that capture intimate moments. I think often of our old farm dog Archie, who lived under the porch of the Presbyterian Church over on Pedenville Road in Concord, Georgia and must have always been chased off with a broom by the cleaning crew. He had a dreadful fear every time I swept. In a thunderstorm, he chased a colleague’s car all the way home, looking for shelter from the storm and something to eat. Her twin girls, both veterinarians, nursed him back to health as best they could before their mother called me. This is the perfect dog for you, she urged. We’ve named him R.K. for Roadkill, which is what he’s gonna be if someone doesn’t give him a good home.
And so we brought R.K. to the Johnson Funny Farm, my husband holding him down in the bed of a Ford Ranger pickup truck as I drove us home (in a stick shift for the first time in many years), hurky-jerky all the way here, where we softened R.K. to Archie and came to love a dog who was as close to human as they get.
Good Ol’ Archie
whenever I clean the empty hardwood floor space under the antique oak buffet ~your thunderstorm safe zone~ my heart goes thud-thumpy
I exhale my eyes close I think of you, your eyebrows raising back and forth left, right, left….. looking me full in the face searching for love wanting needing my embrace waiting for my concrete to crumble
this was your favorite game
you wanted love more than food
when I let your human eyes pierce the stoic face I’d held as long as I could and my smile cracked, turned to laughter….
your full goofy body wag erupted with joy slathered me with sugary sweet love kisses paws on my shoulders
loving me as you did rescuing me as you did
* * *
and then came that morning. you hadn’t moved I knew before your three tail thud-thumps became my heartbeat
Common Threads 