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.
Stacey Joy of California is our host today for VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com, inspiring us to write poems of starting over or redefining ourselves in some new way. You can read her full prompt here.
Stacey has me thinking about freedom and restraints – and the presence or absence of them in their many complex forms. She’s the second person to recommend The Book of Alchemy by Suleika Jaouad since yesterday, explaining that one of the writing exercises in the book prompted her etheree form today – a form with ten lines with that many numbered syllables on each line (1-10). I have the book coming my way on an interlibrary loan and hope to be holding it without a wait very soon. I used her etheree as a pattern today, letting her footsteps guide the way as I thought of retirement as a freedom to travel and see more National Parks from coast to coast. I’m in the process of trading my InTech Aucta Willow Rover for a small Class C Tiffin Wayfarer – not quite like Steinbeck’s “Rocinante” truck camper van of 1960 like I camped in with my grandparents in the early 1970s, but one I can drive without a tow vehicle so I can take to the road even if my husband stays back for work and needs his truck. And I’m getting the twin-to-king conversion bed so I can take my husband (king) or a friend (twin) along for the ride, complete with a dog or three. And sip coffee, read, write…..and learn to breathe.
Rocinante
when freedom (retirement) comes in August I hope to behold Steinbeck’s Rocinante packed and ready to explore Open Roads of America enjoying the journey as much as the destination: learning how to breathe
Mo Daley of Illinois is our host today at http://www.ethicalela.com for the 14th day of VerseLove. She inspires us to write haiku poems of three lines with a 17-syllable count about tax day, tomorrow. You can read her full prompt here. My One Little Word comes to mind today regarding taxes: Onward! They’re unavoidable. We pay them, we cringe, we brush our hands, and we move on to the next thing. Enough said.
The Tax Man Cometh
Caesar’s rendering my travel fund cindering all fun hindering
Wendy Everard of New York is our host today for the sixth day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com, encouraging us to write forgiveness poems. You can visit the website for her original prompt, which I’m sharing in part here as she quotes Joseph Bruchac from his book A Year of Moons: “It’s January here in our Adirondack foothills. The time of Alamikos, the Abenaki term for the first moon of the new year. In English, it’s the New Year’s Greeting Moon. It’s the time when people would go from one wigwam to another – nowadays one house to another – and speak the New Year’s greeting, Anhaldam mawi kassipalilawalan. Its meaning, translated into English, is, ‘Forgive me for any wrong I may have done you,’ a recognition of the fact that there is always more than one way to look at any situation, any human interaction, because it would be said not just to people you know you’ve wronged, but to everyone. Everyone.”
She goes on to describe the process we can take writing our poems:
“Your poem can take any form you wish. Bruchac urges us to ‘think of the times when your own feelings were injured by a word or deed from someone who was totally oblivious to the fact that they’d wounded you. It happens more often than we think. We’re in a hurry and we brush someone off. We make a remark offhandedly or say something that we may think is humorous but in fact cuts another person to the quick.’ Or think of a time that this happened to you. Or just write a general poem of forgiveness – giving it, asking for it, or struggling with it. Reflect, and write a poem that captures the spirit of “anhaldam mawi kassipalilawalan.”
I’m not gonna lie. I’ve forgiven some doozies, and I’ve been forgiven for some doozies, others of which I may never be forgiven for, but I’m struggling with one that needs a lot of head space and heart space. I’m still chiseling away at it, ten months later. And poetry helps me see that I’m not alone in my struggle.
Check out Georgia Heard’s Substack for monthly writing calendars that work for both children and adults. Her February Valentine Mini Writing Calendar, inspires us to fall in love with the everyday. Day 5 asks us to fall in love with love with a word, one that feels good to say, then to write it down and let it lead.
Since my One Little Word of 2026 is Onward, I’m choosing it today.
In the true Stafford Challenge spirit, I’m sharing a blurb of prose and then sharing a poem. That’s how William Stafford wrote as a morning practice each day, and it’s what his son Kim modeled two years ago at the kickoff of the inaugural Stafford Challenge group led by Brian Rohr. Write into the day with free thought, then channel the thinking into lines of verse. Here’s what is on my mind today: more time to write. I’ve chosen a Tanka as my poetry form for this morning, and I’ll add a link to a well-known William Stafford poem at the bottom. It gets me every time.
We’ve managed to avoid the germs – up until now. My husband came home with some symptoms – a headache, eye pressure, and a scratchy throat. We’re knee deep in Chick Fil A Chicken Soup for supper – and an ample supply of DayQuil and NyQuil to treat the symptoms– and we’ll call it an early-to-bed night for sure. Birthday plans (he’s turning a landmark year) for Saturday are hanging by a thread, and we’ll see how he feels tomorrow…..
and so I tell him: if he’s right about easily-treated symptoms not related to a specific sickness such as Covid, Flu A, or RSV, he’ll be up and ready for an adventure first thing Saturday morning!
I’ve never considered that a named illness could be parsed out as circumstantial symptoms, and I see this in the men in my life who refuse to slow down and acknowledge that they are sick. It brings back a few regrets with my father, who was not forthcoming about any of his medical issues that piled up (Colon Cancer, Prostate Cancer, Pulmonary Fibrosis, SVT heart condition to name four of his co-morbidities). When my aunt and uncle were visiting, they forced his hand to go to the doctor for a Covid test when he was experiencing every sign of having it. He emerged from the exam room and informed my aunt that he had “a mild case of Covid,” downplaying things as he always did and refusing to stay home and keep his distance from others. I’ve never been able to control my mouth, and that was one time I got particularly mad and popped off, “Yes, I hear those can lead to mild cases of death.”
And things between us, already agitated with my tendency to tell the truth, as he properly diagnosed me, were never the same.
Common Threads 