Open Write Day 2 of 3 September 2025

Today’s host at http://www.ethicalela.com’s Day 2 of the September Open Write is Allison Berryhill of Iowa. She teaches high school journalism and is a frequent host of amazing prompts in our writing group. Come read more about Allison and her full prompt here, as she inspires us to write a retelling poem.

I chose to rewrite my favorite childhood poem, Overheard on a Salt Marsh by Harold Monro, as a Shakespearean Sonnet, a fourteen-line poem written in iambic pentameter, where the rhyme scheme is ababcdcdefefgg, with ten syllables per line. Here is the original poem:

Overheard on a Saltmarsh

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?

Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?

Give them me.

No.

Give them me. Give them me.

No.

Then I will howl all night in the reeds,

Lie in the mud and howl for them.

Goblin, why do you love them so?

They are better than stars or water,

Better than voices of winds that sing,

Better than any man’s fair daughter,

Your green glass beads on a silver ring.

Hush, I stole them out of the moon.

Give me your beads, I want them.

No.

I will howl in the deep lagoon

For your green glass beads, I love them so.

Give them me. Give them.

No.

– Harold Monro (1879 – 1932)

***. ***. ***

Here is my Shakespearean Sonnet:

Nymphs Don’t Play

a goblin glumphed upon a marsh nymph fair

far through the pluff he’d glimpsed a glow of green

such beauty drew him to her, for to stare

pay homage to her globes he hoped to glean

nymph, nymph he glowered, sweetening his gaze

as moonlight cast a truth beam on intent

this young sylph, so accustomed to his ways

was not a stranger to his guileful glint

what are your beads that cast such radiant gleam?

they’re moonbeads, goblin, made of emerald glass

which thereupon his threat suddenly seemed

the type that beckoned kicking goblin ass

and so this marsh nymph, queen of her domain

unleashed unparalleled gonadic pain

-Kim Johnson

#VerseLove Day 12 with Kate Sjostrom of Illinois – Literacy Memories

Our host for the 12th day of VerseLove2025 is Kate Sjostrom, a teacher educator at the University of Illinois at Chicago.

She inspires us to write our favorite literacy memory in a poem. You can read her full prompt here.

I’m sharing a pantoum today – – of the poem that started it all for me…..my deep love of poetry comes down to one poem that mesmerized me and wouldn’t turn loose. It still holds me captive, and it’s the reason I often wear green glass beads…….Overheard on a Salt Marsh, by Harold Monro!

Falling in Love with Harold Monroe

in my closet with a flashlight

reading Childcraft Volume 1: Poems and Rhymes

I fell in love with Harold

when I was 8

reading Childcraft Volume 1: Poems and Rhymes

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?

when I was 8

Give them me. / No.

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?

Your green glass beads on a silver ring

Give them me. / NO!

Hush, I stole them out of the moon.

Your green glass beads on a silver ring

I fell in love with Harold

Hush, I stole them out of the moon

in my closet with a flashlight

Water nymph with green glass beads, image generated with AI

Day 1 of July Open Write with Denise Krebs of California

Today’s host at http://www.ethicalela.com for the July 2024 Open Write, Day 1, is Denise Krebs of California. She inspires us to write septercet poems on any topic we choose. Also called a blackjack poem for the 21 syllables in each stanza, the poem features stanzas of three lines with 7 syllables on each line. You can read Denise’s full prompt here. I’ll be presenting with Denise at this year’s NCTE Convention in Boston in November, and I’m proud to call her a friend!

Goddess of No

Harold Monro held me charmed

Overheard on a Salt Marsh

Gold-leaf’d Childcraft Volume 1

Over and over again

In my closet (with flashlight)

I read those words on repeat

Utterly spellbound, transfixed

Give them me. No. Give them me.

Grew up wearing green glass beads.

The nymph to the goblin: No!

He’ll lie in the mud and howl

for beads on her silver ring

She stole them out of the moon.

He’ll howl in a deep lagoon

(like so many creeps out there).

In the best illustration

the goblin’s fingers spark truth:

it’s sexual harassment.

this primer poem for girls

who could read between the lines

Give them me. No. Give them me.

better than a fair daughter

better than the voices of winds

better than stars or water

Harold Monro held me charmed

Give them me. No. Give them me.

I am a Goddess of No.