March 2: 5:32-6:03 a.m. Goodbye, Little Guy Max!

Goodbye, Little Guy Max!

This morning we roll out at 6 a.m.

to meet your new family halfway ~

they’ll take you across this

great country to see new sights

experience new adventures

you’ll embrace a whole new crew

shelter them from storms

blanket them in warmth

love them as much as

we have loved you!

Happy trails, Max!

Ode to Change: Day 2 of October’s Open Write

Our host for Day 2 of the October Open Write is a group of students at Aquinas College in Michigan, inspiring us today to write odes to change. Stefani Boutelier, an instructor at AC, leads them in their prompt offering today, which you can read in its entirety here.

Ode to Letting Go in Chained Haiku

the leaves show us how
on our morning driveway walks
straight into the sun

how to let things go
bidding the branches goodbye
flitting to forest

floor beneath, seeking,
stirring, gathering in groups
with others who’ve held

onto things for far
too long to know weightlessness
untethered freedom

to roll on gentle
breeze to take to bright blue skies
on blustery gusts

to change their small view
and see the whole world anew. ~
a new perspective

Day 12 of #VerseLove with Jordan S. of Virginia

Photo by Jimmy Chan on Pexels.com

Jordan S. of Virginia is our host today for the 12th day of #VerseLove2024. You can read her full prompt here. She inspires us to write an ode to an underpraised or undercelebrated being.

Ode to a Mosquito

O, Mosquito
whose proboscis
I well know
whose kiss
makes most
skin glow, an
inflamed inferno
oozing volcano

across the globe
in every zone
your overt
poke
ain’t no joke

no matter how
remote
in glacial smoke 
or tropical oaks
you and
your droves 
of blood-bloated
homies
drone over
innocent
uncloaked
folks

so to you, 
my chosen
poker, 
I wholly 
devote
this
toast of an
ode

now go!

.

September Poetry Marathon – Day 5 of 5

Today’s host for the final day of our September Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com is Glenda Funk of Idaho, who inspires us to write Barbie poems. You can read Glenda’s full prompt and her poem here. I can’t wait to see all of the poems born into the world on this topic, so please hop over to the site and take a read. I chose a reverse nonet today, crafting nine lines with each numbered line’s syllable count on each in descending order as if going back in time, seeking Fountain of Youth Barbie.

Turning Back the Years Reverse Nonet

We’d line them up like kickball players

at recess, then pick one by one,

taking turns to get the best

looking Barbies. Next, we’d

choose accessories ~

whip worlds to life

narrating

stories

dreamed.

As part of this post today, I’m sharing the remaining poems from the poetry marathon last Friday, where a poem and hour was written either by someone in my family, a friend, or me. Here they are:

12 a.m. hour – Kim Johnson – Hashtag Haiku

#meanness

Fruit of the Spirit

my tree needs fertilizer

nothing much blooming…..

1 a.m. hour – Tanka – a five line poem with a syllable count of 5-7-5-7-7

Cinnamon apples

sliced, wax-sealed in Mason jars

cane sugar syrup

for Thanksgiving dessert pies

prepped-ahead ingredients!

2 a.m. hour – Naani – a poem consisting of four lines, with twenty to twenty-five syllables on any topic

Pumpkin Harvest!

Pumpkin Spice!

Pumpkin jack-o-lanterns ~

glowing face with the slice of a knife!

3 a.m. hour – Senryu – a three line unrhymed poem similar to Haiku, about nature

Midland water snake

basking in Gibbs Gardens grass

misunderstood

4 a.m. hour – Tricubes – three stanzas of three lines with 3 syllables per line 

Poetry

Wings to Fly

Words to heal

Poetry

Weatherproof

Warmth for cold

Poetry

What if prompts

Why not now?

5 a.m hour – Cinquain – a poem that has two syllables in the first line, four in the second, six in the third, eight in the fourth, and two in the fifth (it was early, and I was watching my Honey Nut Cheerios dance in my plain Greek yogurt)…..

mOrning

cOffee hOp!

cheeriO’ed yOgurt prOm

O’s d-Osi-dO  with pOetry

hOedOwn!

6 a.m. hour – Kim Johnson – Ode – a poem of praise, often written directly to a person or object 

Memories of Miriam 

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

7 a.m. hour – grand finale recap poem

A coffee stir stick

started a 24-hour 

poem marathon! 

we stirred up writing

gave wings to what if ideas

preserved memories

called love to action

resurrected ancestors

September 2023 Poetry Marathon Day 1 of 5

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

August Open Write with Wendy Everand

Wendy Everand is our host today for the August Open Write, and she inspires us to write odes to our favorite poets. You can read her full prompt here.

This brought to mind the first poet I ever knew. We lived next door to a retired school teacher in Reynolds, Georgia, and one day I got loose and barged into her house (no one locked their doors in that town back then)…..and the rest is history. After she died, two of her granddaughters compiled a collection of her poems, and I got a copy as a gift. I still believe that she pulled my poetry strings out and brushed them…..maybe even crocheted them.

Ode to Mabel G. Byrd (December 10, 1900-1/20/1987)

Mama Byrd’s poems
mainly quatrains
ABCB rhyme scheme
Crafting 4-line verse veins

Born in 1900, Taylor County
Little Sweet Georgia Peach
Died 1987, Taylor County
Lived her life to write and teach

I barged right in, in ‘69
(She was 69, I was 3)
I still remember visiting
Listening to poems at her knee

She went blind
But still knew color schemes
She’d crochet blankets as gifts for folks
In gilded yarns, bright blues, and creams

She still wrote, even blind
Poems were her favorite forms
And when I read her words today,
Time turns back, my heart warms

In 1987, I went for one last visit
Dad and I, next to her bedside
Told me she’d meet me at Heaven’s Gate
About a month before she died.

The very first poet I ever knew
Still speaks to me today
In rose gardens and peach blossoms
…..and in Granny Square crochet.