we’re cheering them on these Atlanta Braves of ours Funny Farm fireside loving these cool temps Fall Break wrapped in hoodies with coffee and warm socks


Patchwork Prose and Verse

Barb Edler of Iowa is our host today for the 4th day of our September Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com, and she’s encouraging us to write poems of inspiration and victory after reading Ada Limon’s How to Triumph Like a Girl. I chose a Haiku as my form and impulse response as my topic. You can read Barb’s full prompt and Limon’s poem here.
How to Triumph Over Impulse
do nothing but this:
turn your eyes in squint wonder
toward the heavens
I’m continuing to share the poems written during Friday’s poetry marathon with a poem written every hour.
11 pm hour – Kim Johnson – Heart poem – a poem having anything to do with a heart, love, bravery, or admiration
September’s Song
from the depths
of her heart ~
Summer Tanager
singing summer’s end
from a low branch
near Auchumpkee Creek Bridge
sad September serenade ~
fall flight farewell

Today, Stacey Joy of California is our host for the September Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. She is inspiring us to write odes today. I took inspiration from her poem and from Amy Van DerWater’s Dear Socks in writing an ode to the memories of my mother through the ways she still comes to me when I am missing her.
From Saturday through Wednesday, I will post the daily writing along with several other poems that were written during the poetry marathon I began yesterday morning at 8:00 a.m.. It ends at 8:00 this morning, and will contain one poem written each hour since then either by a friend/family member or by me. (Okay, I slept the night, but I wrote ahead and behind those hours of sleep because…..my meanness might have kicked in).
I’ll begin with today’s poem, written in the 6 a.m. hour, September 16, 2023: ODE – a poem of praise, often written directly to someone or something.
Memories of Miriam ~ An Ode – a poem of praise, often directly to a person or object
Dear Mom,
you come to me
in the missing
with tingly spots that
turn warm
in the heart,
help me exhale~ my
fingers circling my temples
bringing back
all the whens
of this Bernina
your fingers guiding
mine under the
foot, stitch by stitch
learning to sew
a lime green terrycloth
bathcover, now
sewing quilts
for your great grands
on your fine
Swiss machine
of hawks,
talons clutching wires
checking that
my seatbelt
is fastened
as I drive past,
shaking your pointing finger
if I forgot,
knowing that
whatever I’m
thinking at
that moment,
you’re there
in it
of strawberry figs,
last summer wave
just picked, my own
weakening fingers twisting
tender fruits free ~
canned this very
week, Mason jars
sealed tight
with summer’s
sweetened warmth
for coming winter
of spiced Russian tea,
the Tangy orange
and lemonade mixed
with clove, sugar
cinnamon and tea ~
a medicinal brush
of your invisible fingers
through my hair
in sore throat season
of rippled milkglass
with resurrection fern
springing to life
unfurling its brown
dry fingers
into open arms
green again
September 15, 2023 – The Kickoff – 8 a.m. hour – Kim Johnson
Haiku – a poem with three lines and seventeen syllables in 5/7/5 syllabicated lines
My Stir Stick
deep in the forest
a tiny tree takes root
reaches to sunlight
growing tall, falling
with a thud, destined to be
my coffee stir stick
September 15, 2023 – 9 a.m. hour – my son Marshall Meyer – Gogyoshi (a 5-line poem on any topic, and Marshall wrote two back to back gogyoshis, connected, about a recent fishing experience….and he wrote this within a half hour of when I requested a poem, which is what a poetry marathon experience is about – – birthing poetry meaningfully in a few intentional moments throughout the day). I’m so proud of him!
The experience is like no
other. The stalk and hunt is
on, wind and direction
matter. I’m in shin deep
water and the reds can feel
all vibrations.
Concentration is at an all
time high. Cast. The feel of
the exploding strike is like
no other.
September 15, 2023 – 10 a.m. hour – Found Poem by Kim Johnson – a Found Poem is a poem that is written by finding words on an existing page of print, lifting them out to stand alone as a poem. This one is taken from The Outsiders.
A Silent Moment
dawn mist
golden
gray to pink
a silent moment:
paint,
fresh in my mind,
like
nature’s flower;
down to day…
nothing can stay
September 15, 2023 – 11 a.m. hour – Jenga Poem – Kim Johnson
I let my son’s 9:00 poem inspire a title I found on a Jenga block and wrote this poem from the word blocks in my collection. To write a Jenga poem, select blocks and arrange them into a poem of words that stand alone or words that inspire lines mixed with your own words.
Casting a Line
choose your own
hopes for the future ~
murals unveiled:
ending or new beginning?
inspiring
another chance at life
every precious “breath”
how we have chosen
race against time
September 15, 2023 – Noon hour – Kim Johnson
Skinny – a poem with 11 lines, where first and last line repeat similarly in small number of words, and the rest of the lines have one word. Lines 2, 6, and 10 use the same word.
Owl
owl swoops down
gracefully
without
a
sound
gracefully
to
forest
ground
gracefully
owl swoops down
We’ve recently switched veterinarians to lessen the stress and half-day production of traveling over to the next county and waiting and waiting and waiting our turn. Where we live in rural Georgia, there isn’t much of anything. Our county has a public school, a private school, maybe a dozen churches, a small private airport, 10 or 15 restaurants, a couple of medical facilities, a courthouse, some small businesses along the square and some larger ones farther out, a regional library and a town library, a coffee shop and bookstore, several little free libraries, a small grocery store, a couple of hardware stores, and a handful of convenience stores with gas stations. Oh yeah – – and about a half dozen Dollar Generals. Five small town limits are nestled within the county, and we are spread out in larger land tracts with rolling hills, meadows, dirt roads, and crooked wooden fences.
We drive out of our county to buy clothes, shoes, office supplies, and groceries. And we love Amazon, even for aspirin and shampoo.
That’s why we switched veterinarians. It wasn’t because we suddenly didn’t like the former vet or had some kind of falling out with the other practice. It was because this office has a hometown staff and we see them out together in the county eating at our local barbecue restaurant for lunch sometimes. We wanted to lessen our drive and not have to take a half day off work just to get a heartworm injection.
Also, about six years ago, Dr. Kelly allowed me to bring an adventure book club who’d just finished reading Finding Gobi to his office to go behind the scenes and see what veterinarians do. His office started as a house, then became a restaurant, and now welcomes pets for their healthcare.
Which was Ollie’s outing yesterday. He needed his 6-month heartworm test and ProHeart injection. We walked in to the office and were greeted by Hunter the minute we entered the room: Hey, Ollie, we have you all checked in, buddy!
We walked past the fireplace and the burning candle and took a seat in the room where the large mixed breed dog was not wallowing on his back all over the floor, kicking his feet up in pure joy like he didn’t know what was coming.
And we waited a few minutes, listening to the thunder and rain, looking out the windows, and breathing. Where else could there possibly be a more relaxing veterinary office?

Ollie gets momsick when they take him back for shots (like a preschooler) He started to go all tail-waggy, excited then turned in his tracks We love our new vet right in our own small hometown We love low windows!



Today at www.ethicalela.com for the final day of our August Open Write, our host Ashlyn O’Rourke of Oklahoma inspires us to write Self-Perception Concrete Poems to tell the story of a difference in who we know ourselves to be and how someone else perceives us. You can read Ashlyn’s full prompt here.
Strong I tell the hard truth. He asked for my opinion then said I was wrong. Can an opinion be all wrong when it’s based on long-observed patterns? He thinks I’m too strong ~ but I don’t argue he’s wrong. My mother raised me.
Today is Day 24 of #VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com, and Susie Morice is our host. She inspires us to write poems using a junk drawer to determine things about who we are. You can read her full prompt and the poems of others here. I chose to write about the treasure I found in someone else’s junk dogs.
These Three Kings I found three castoffs betrayed, neglected, abused I crowned these three kings

