Tag: Gratitude

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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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4/19: The Kid Lit Progressive Poem

Come along and read our 2026 Progressive Poem, where a poet adds a line each day, it’s organized by Margaret Simon and originally started by Irene Latham.  Today is my day to add a line to the poem, and you can see below the map of the Land of Poetry. I’m continuing a tweet by Meek Dove today over in Thackeray’s Thicket. I learned, through a bit of research, that William Thackeray has a fitting middle name for a theme of The Land of Poetry.

One possibility for what The Land of Poetry might look like, line and map by Tabatha Yeatts

The Land of Poetry

On my first trip to the Land of Poetry,
I saw anthologies of every color, tall as buildings.
A world of words, wonder on wings, waiting just for me!
Birding for words shimmering, flecked in golden gilding.

Binoculars ready, I toured boulevards and side streets
exploring vibrant verses, verses so honest and tender,
feathery lyrics, bright flitting avian athletes
soaring ‘cross pages in rhythmic splendor.

In the Land of Poetry, I am the conductor,
seeking oodles of poems that tug at my heart,                                      
a musical medley of sound and structure,                             
an open mic in Frost Forest! Wonder who’ll take part?

There’s a pause in the program; no one takes the stage
the trees quiver, the audience looks up. Raven lands,                                
singing Earth’s message of the sage.  
“Poetry in motion will be forevermore, from forests to sands.”

“Scatter,” she croaked. “Beyond Wilde Pond, to each and every beach.”
Meek Dove mustered courage and sang, “Instill humanity with compassion and peace.

Let Thackeray’s middle name, from this thicket, hearts reach!”

A bird sitting on a moss-covered branch among flowers, singing 'Make Peace'
Meek Dove perched on a flowering branch singing ‘Make Peace’ from Thackeray Thicket in The Land of Poetry

And I’m handing the fabulous feather pen to Buffy Silverman to continue our journey through The Land of Poetry.  Take the wheel, Buffy!!

Below is a list of all the poets where the 2026 Progressive Poem has and will make stops:


April 1 Tabatha Yeatts at The Opposite of Indifference
April 2 Cathy Stenquist at A Little Bit of This and That
April 3 Patricia Franz at Reverie
April 4 Donna Smith at Mainely Write
April 5 Janice Scully at Salt City Verse
April 6 Denise Krebs at Dare to Care
April 7 Ruth Hersey at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town
April 8 Rose Cappelli at Imagine the Possibilities
April 9 Margaret Simon at Reflections on the Teche
April 10 Janet Clare Fagel at Reflections on the Teche
April 11 Diane Davis at Starting Again in Poetry
April 12 Linda Baie at Teacher Dance
April 13 Linda Mitchell at Another Word Edgewise
April 14 Jone MacCulloch at
April 15 Joyce Uglow at Storied Ink
April 16 Carol Varsalona at Beyond Literacy Link
April 17 Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge
April 18 Michelle Kogan at More Art for All
April 19 Kim Johnson at Common Threads
April 20 Buffy Silverman
April 21 Irene Latham at Live Your Poem 
April 22 Karen Edmisten
April 23 Heidi Mordhorst at my juicy little universe
April 24 Mary Lee Hahn at A(nother) Year of Reading
April 25 Tanita Davis at Fiction, instead of Lies
April 26 Sharon Roy at Pedaling Poet
April 27 Tracey Kiff-Judson at Tangles and Tails
April 28 Tabatha Yeatts at The Opposite of Indifference
April 29
April 30

Also, hop over to http://www.ethicalela.com to day for the 19th day of VerseLove, where Stefani Boutelier is hosting us and inspiring us to up our game as she gamifies poems. I used a Wordle inspiration today:

God and Emily Having a Garden Chat

take a stand for hope
Hebrews Eleven, Verse One
the thing with feathers

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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

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Verse Love Day 11: The Loves

Our host today is former high school English teacher, Kate Sjostrom , a teacher educator at the University of Illinois at Chicago and Writer in Residence at the Hemingway Foundation of Oak Park. 

You can read Kate’s full prompt here as she inspires us to write about emotions in concrete and abstract terms.

Brown and white bird with spotted chest singing on tree branch
A Wood Thrush sings while perched on a branch in a green forest.

Elation Over the Song of the Wood Thrush

it’s 6:38 a.m. when I hear it

we’ve just taken the boys out

to do their morning business

when a familiar note plays

from the branch-pew of a tree

on Pine Mountain

like a retro diner Jukebox favorite

a song to stir the heart

not call-like,

not chatty or operatic

definitely not theatric

(like that one lady in church,

thinks she can sing)

still, this voice offers hymn

praise to its maker and in

that way they are alike

this voice isn’t

wearing colorful Gucci garments –

picture instead

a simple watercolor painting of

dark, milk, and white chocolates

splotched with dots

and caramel feathers

the star voice of the woods

and doesn’t even know it

doesn’t show off or sing louder

like I would do with a voice

like that ~ why would I

ever say anything?

I’d sing it all, asking where the

tomatoes are in the grocery store

and what is my balance

at the bank and I’d be the

talk of the town for all the

wrong reasons ~ folks

would say I’ve gone off

the deep end

……but if I were a bird

I’d hope to be a Wood Thrush

the best voice in the choir

so humble

so unassuming

so musical

turning heads

with elation just to listen

and even sour Simon

Cowell would look up

and smile, knowing

there’s the talent

and press the Golden Buzzer

but with my Wood Thrush ways

I’d shun the competition

not needing his endorsement

I’d crap on his head

my own golden buzzer

on my way to another branch

still singing

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Verse Love Day 10 : Villanelle Vibes ~ Georgia State Parks

Susan Ahlbrand of Indiana is our host today for Day 10 of Verselove at http://www.ethicalela, com, and she inspires us to write love letters to a place we love. She challenged us to try a villanelle, a 19-line poem of five tercets and a quatrain with a rhyme scheme and refrain sequence. As I sit on the campsite of a Georgia State Park recharging my batteries this week, I could not think of a more fitting place to pay tribute.

Villanelle Tribute to Georgia State Parks

out in the woods on a state park campsite

nestled in shade by meandering creek

Pollock-splashed beams of breeze-filtered sunlight

shelter from life’s woes, respite from plight

renewal blooms hope when refuge we seek

out in the wild on a state park campsite

Swallowtails air-dance on blackened blue-brights

welcoming wings, meditative mystique

sashaying rays of oak-splattered sunlight

flame-flickered campfires on stargazing nights

embers leap up to kiss Pegasus’ cheek

out in the wild on a state park campsite

mosaic edges softened by twilight

for life’s jagged junctures, outdoors re-key

shadowy brushstrokes, dusk-darkened moonlight

birdsong awakens, euphoric daylight

new trails to hike, fresh air to seize

out in the woods on a state park campsite

canvassing nature, the soul re-ignites

In honor of National Poem In My Pocket Day…..

I have a poem in my pocket

a perfect way to start

hummer at my feeder

hope restores my heart

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VerseLove Day 6: Forgiveness Poems

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.

Black hearse towing an orange U-Haul trailer on a roadside with autumn foliage.
A hearse pulls a U-Haul trailer.

Jesus, Take the Reese’s Rabbits

His first Easter in Heaven yesterday

and here I am

his child,

His child,

recipient of God’s

ultimate sacrificial forgiveness

~ in the forgivingest season of all ~

and yet I struggle

after all the trying

to make things right

clear his hoarding

clean his messes

he curmudgeonly says NO on repeat

I hum Jesus, Take the Wheel on repeat

I cuss on repeat too

even in the midst of prayers

….and then he up and dies

with all this unfinished business

no U-Haul behind the hearse

like a final take that!

and I hope to good gracious

he gets none of the feast

of the blessed Easter lamb

or the chocolate bunnies or

especially any of those Reese’s cup rabbits

until we get the rest of his stuff

cleaned up and that may

take a few more Easters

but if he’d just listened

to his children

we wouldn’t be praying he’s

in time out up there

having to watch all the angels

who weren’t so stubborn

eat of the lamb and the chocolate

licking their angel fingers

at him on his antique stool

in a corner of Heaven