Patchwork Prose and Verse
In the spirit of tiny writing and short forms, today’s poem is a Shadorma (3-5-3-3-7-5) inspired by Georgia Heard’s Tiny Writing prompt calendar: What Quiet Sounds Like.
What Quiet Sounds Like
hurt hearts are
what quiet sounds like
no phones ping
no texts ding
quiet endures without peace
when hearts are hurting
In the spirit of tiny writing and short forms, today’s poem is a Shadorma (3-5-3-3-7-5) inspired by Georgia Heard’s Tiny Writing prompt calendar: A Poem that Begins with If.
a poem
that begins with if
seems open,
understands
that there must be conditions ~
criteria met
Today’s topic for the tiny writing shared by Georgia Heard on her May calendar is A Secret You Keep. I’m using the Shadorma form this month for most of these poems (3-5-3-3-7-5). My poem today is inspired by the prankish secret I’m keeping. A few weeks ago, I cleaned out the silverware drawer and put the holder back in a different direction. A week or so later, I noticed my husband had flipped it back to the original position. And so I turned it back. He flipped it again. Again, I turned it, in a different direction from either of the first. And now, this game – more of a prank than a secret – is part of the fun of the morning.
A Secret You Keep
suddenly
after 18 years
there’s a tiff
over which
way the silverware tray goes ~
so now it’s a game!
Today’s prompt at http://www.ethicalela.com for the first day of the May Open Write is by Dr. Sarah Donovan, who encourages poems related to the stages of forgiveness and pain. I’ve chosen a double haiku followed by a shadorma for today’s verse, blending madness and sadness of grief that lingers. I’m reminded that sometimes forgiveness is a long time coming.
For Today
all lies, no mercy ~
how can I choose forgiveness?
I’m still working through
things that can never
be replaced, lived out rightly
the way she’d wanted
perhaps in
time there will be a
change of heart
but for now
for this hour, for this moment
my soul can’t forget
I’m engaging in tiny writes this month, introduced by Georgia Heard on her monthly writing calendar. Margaret Simon of Louisiana shared it on her blog earlier this month. Margaret also introduced me to the Shadorma form, which is a poem consisting of six lines with lines of the following numbers of syllables, in this order: 3,5,3,3,7,5. I’m using a tiny form for the tiny write topics and finding that it is a breath of fresh air after the marathon months of March with the Slice of Life Challenge at http://www.twowritingteachers.org and April with #VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com.
Wednesday’s topic on Georgia Heard’s calendar was What the Moon Might Say, but I missed writing that topic, so I picked it for today.
Goodnight Moon
moonbeams shine
Heaven’s messages
on pillows
sweet dreams, Love
is what the moon might say, a
ghostly kiss goodnight
Today is a great day for a tricube! A tricube has 3 stanzas with 3 lines each, with 3 syllables on each line. Last weekend, while camping at FDR State Park in Pine Mountain, Georgia, we hiked the Mountain Creek Nature Trail with the dogs and saw spring in full bloom. It’s great to be outdoors, and to capture what you can in short forms!
primrose sweet
daffodils
bluebells grow
wind dances
on a breeze
pine trees blow
green grass sprouts
buds unfold
earth's green coat
When my friend and fellow writer Margaret Simon of New Iberia, Louisiana invited me to the Fay B. Kaigler Children’s Festival in Hattiesburg, Mississippi in April to present a poetry writing workshop with her, I eagerly accepted the invitation and began planning the trip. Since it was during my spring break, it made taking the time away much less challenging. Even though I wasn’t able to stay for the entire festival, I enjoyed some time with Margaret – especially our time together in our VRBO as we wrote together and shared the experience as tea drinkers. (You’ll see how Emily Dickinson joined us in a photo at the bottom of this post).
During the month of April, we were both writing daily for #VerseLove2025, so we used the day’s prompt by Joanne Emery, also a writer with Slice of Life, to create poems inspired by looking closely at things around us – particularly things in nature. You can read Joanne’s poem below, used here with her permission.
No Longer
Every year, for twenty years
we came here,
to this house –
two-story brick
sitting stately on a hill
surrounded by elms and maples,
slate blue doors and shutters.
We came to love this house
because we loved
the two people inside
and loved them more
as they aged –
Silver-haired and stooping
but always moving,
always answering the door
with open arms,
and open hearts
in every season:
Magnolias bloomed
fragrant in summer.
In fall, elms showered yellow
leaves onto the rooftop.
A dusting of snow frosted
the windows in winter.
The pear trees’ white blossoms
were the first sign of spring.
The seasons rolled one onto another
so imperceptibly we didn’t even notice.
Gradually, the stairs became harder to climb.
the television was harder to hear,
vials of medicine lined the kitchen counter,
important phone numbers were listed on the frig.
Now, when we came,
the house sat a little lower.
We watched a little more closely.
stayed a little longer.
listened a little better,
opened our arms and hearts
just a little wider
to keep the memories
and the two inside close.
But the seasons rolled on
and the two are now gone
and the house we loved
Still sits on the hill
but we can no longer return..
-Joanne Emery
Margaret’s poem:
(Margaret took a striking line from Joy Harjo’s poem to write a Golden Shovel poem about her friend’s butterfly garden).Â
Mary’s Invitation
In her garden, there’s
salvia, swamp milkweed, that
purple one
I forgot the name of: you
watch a swallowtail circle
tall parsley flowers, back
around to
orange pincushion pistils on a coneflower
for a taste of home.
-Margaret Simon
My poem:
Hello from Heaven
two days ago
passing through
Greenville, Alabama
I noticed a mural~
Alabama’s Camellia City
fuchsia petals
and yellow anthers
adorning the corners
and thought of
my mother, who loved them
yesterday
in Hattiesburg, Mississippi
I drove past a camellia
bush of these exact colors
and thought again of
my mother, who loved them
this gentle wave from Heaven
to remind me of her
sent me on a quest
to discover more about
the Japan rose
which symbolizes
advancing women’s rights
and is used to make tea
and food seasoning
and to protect the blades
of sharp cutting instruments ~
interesting, but where is the
message from Heaven?
my brother will be at
The Masters, where the
10th Hole is The Camellia Hole
so I will tell him to look for a
sign from our mother there
and perhaps, just perhaps
he’ll see a
Freedom Bell or
Cornish Show, Inspiration,
Royalty, or a Spring Festival
maybe my own message is
here, now, ~ in To Kill a
Mockingbird, Jem destroys
Mrs. Dubose’s garden when
she insults his family but is
later given a bud from the
dying woman who struggled
to overcome her
morphine addiction
and perhaps, just perhaps
this camellia wave is
every assurance that
forgiveness of others
is the work my heart
needs to do
and perhaps, just perhaps
I’ll plant a camellia this spring
to welcome more
hellos from Heaven from
my mother, who loved them
I glance up at the coffee table
in the VRBO where I’m staying
and notice a decorative box
I hadn’t noticed before now
gold-outlined camellias
as if my mother has been
sitting with me as I write this poem
and perhaps, just perhaps
she has
Today, Dr. Sarah Donovan, founder of Ethicalela.com, is our host for the last day of VerseLove 2025. She inspires us with several prompt options, which you can read here. I chose to take a line from each host’s poem throughout the 30 days, in order, to create a new poem. I took the last line from my poem on the day that I hosted to become the title. Poets’ names are in the order in which their line appears under the poem.
Even Now
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love
a new leaf
our friendship remains
wind whips snow and rain and sleet, stinging our smiling faces
older now, but happy
I am from green sticker grass, speckled with dandelions
twining vines together to be held in the right places
a lullaby for what cannot be undone
you might have ooh’d and aaw’d
to keep the memories
unraveling
to write the tears and cry into absence that hope might
taking me to a different time and place
let us walk in the woods
a truer friend is hard to find, so kind
there will be joy in the morning
mind drifting under periwinkle sky
something like the snowballs we wished to have
knowing we will someday die
nor think the illusion a mirage
warm and bittersweet
everything is ghastly white –
all a reminder that newness brings life
secretly embracing
that this wasn’t really
like my thoughts
in the midst of the storm, it can be hard to see clear
into life’s unknown
and still, I hold onto hope
A huge hug and thank you to these host poets with borrowed lines, in order:
Jennifer, Leilya, Denise, Dave, Bryan, Stacey, Erica, Darius, Britt, Joanne, Kate, Sarah, Padma, Brittany, Katrina, Angie, Tammi, Jordan, Susan, Glenda, Margaret, Barb, Larin, Ashley, Scott, Alexis, Donnetta, Stefani, Sarah/Maureen
Margaret Simon, our host for VerseLove Day 22, lives in Louisiana.
Margaret inspires us to write prose poems of emotion today. She explains, “A prose poem looks like prose; however, there are poetic elements that set it apart from a paragraph. There is a rhythm of poetry within the prose-like lines. Contemplate an invitation to an emotion. Write it out in prose. Let your words flow out like the water from a teapot.”
Click, Click, Click, Ding
….at the table with The Poetry Fox ~ his vintage typewriter clicks like my mind, wondering how he works this magic. Writing poems in a minute, pounding out letters, words, thoughts, feelings. Bringing tears of sentiment, laughter of imaginings, words and images to life. Like a heartbeat, rhythmic and steady, not skipping a beat until the poem is complete and he stamps his paw print, reads the gift aloud, winding my joy-filled heart right into the ribbon of those keys I can still clearly hear…..
click, click, click,
ding,
click, click, click, click, click
ding
click, click-click, click
Our host for Day 16 of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com is Katrina Morrison, who teaches English and German in a rural community in Osage County, Oklahoma.
Katrina inspires us to write etheree poems and shares her process: “Etheree Taylor Armstong, an Arkansas poet, created the simple eponymous Etheree. An etheree consists of ten lines with each line’s syllabication increasing by one. Line 1 begins with one syllable, line two has two syllables, line three has three syllables, etc. Proceed this way until you have composed a poem with ten lines.” You can read her full prompt here.
The Poetry Fox
have you ever seen a fox type poems
on a classic vintage typewriter
pecking with his paws at the keys
pounding out on-demand verse
for people offering
their favorite words,
then reading each
aloud to
human
hearts?
Common Threads 