Patchwork Prose and Verse
we could take lessons
from chickens in a dust bath
shaking it all off
instead dwell in mud
wallowing unforgiveness
pig kin bickering
get out of the mire
unstuck from the yucky muck
before it’s too late!
*inspired by a recent sermon heard on YouTube
Other Sunrises
if we have
glorious sunrises
here on earth
are there billions
of
galaxies
with other sunrises?
and how breathtaking
are they?
*********
p.s. It’s May 1. Have you said, “rabbit, rabbit?” yet on the first? Here’s to a great month, plus a picture of my backyard rabbit named Rabbit Rabbit.
Today we wrap up #VerseLove 2024 at http://www.ethicalela.com with a prompt from Dr. Sarah Donovan, inviting us to choose a favorite prompt from the month and write another poem on that same prompt. I chose Stacey Joy’s In Our Mama’s Kitchens and Fran Haley’s The First Time. A very special thanks to Sarah Donovan and to Two Writing Teachers for giving us a space to write and grow and encourage each other. I look back as a preacher’s kid growing up in a household where one truly never knew which way the ball was coming, and today’s poem takes me back to the first time I knew I needed to hold on tight.
Pastorium Perils
late summer 1971
in rural Reynolds, Georgia
the land of peach trees
in their time of ripeness
Mama was pregnant with
my baby brother and
we were in the den
Mama Daddy and me
when
~~whoosh~~
in through the kitchen door
a naked girl with
long wet hair
streaked through
our house holding a towel
screaming all the way
down the hall
to my parents’ bedroom
locking the door
on her heels her stepdad
pounding and screaming
threatening her life
I recognized them from church
I was five
the girl was a teenager
(with flapping boobs
……and hair….down there?)
her stepdad was drunk
my mother clutched me
carried me like a football
into my room
locked the door
then ran through
the connecting bathroom
I followed, fearful
to stay alone
crawled under their bed
Mama found the girl
huddled in the bottom
of their closet
shaking
crying uncontrollably
wailing for help
Mama comforted her
clothed her
sat on the bed
holding her
called the cops
we listened
in fear for Dad
as we waited
those slurred screams
of fury
are seared
into my memory forever
she comes with me
or I’ll go get
my ruiner
and ruin you
then more voices,
the crash of a lamp
furniture slamming
handcuffs, arrest,
police report
one prominent
family in ruins
exposed
it was the first time
I knew
growing up a preacher’s
kid would bring
a whole cast of
characters always calling
mostly clothed
it was the first time
I saw a naked teenager
running for her life
Glenda Funk of Idaho is our host for Day 28 of #VerseLove, inspiring us to write Strike Through Poems. You can read her full prompt here. Strikethrough poetry is similar to found or blackout poetry, where a poem exists within an existing poem.
The Key
Don’t you wish we
could take the key
to the end of
the island like
we used to do
when I was little
and you could still
say Latin names
for each shell and bird and tree
your love for them pure
and passionate before
the day it all changed
for you?
Scott McCloskey is our host today for Day 26 of #VerseLove, inspiring us to write short billboard-type poems of wit and wisdom, the kind that stick with a reader and leave an impression. You can read his full prompt here, but I’m adding some notes below, too:
Scott explains:
This, of course, is not something new, this “poetry as billboard.” Poems have replaced advertising on some buses (and other forms of transit) in Washington thanks to the Poetry in Public program. https://www.4culture.org/poetry/ And over thirty years ago, The Poetry in Motion folks did a similar thing, placing poems in various transit systems in Los Angeles, New York City, Nashville, and San Francisco (among many, many others). https://poetrysociety.org/poetry-in-motion
Just looking at a small sampling of the poems from the New York Poetry in Motion selections https://poetrysociety.org/poetry-in-motion/category/new-york you’ll see some heavy hitters: Charles Simic, Audre Lorde, Tracy K. Smith, Maya Angelou, Seamus Heaney, Shakespeare, Sharon Olds, Billy Collins, Walt Whitman…look, I could just keep naming them, and you’d recognize all of them! You’d also notice that their topics (and size of selections) are as varied as the poets themselves.
Clinking Pens
on Aisle 12
I caught him
peering around
the corner
“I thought that was you,”
he smiled, approaching.
“Remember me?”
Of course I did.
“Chandler!”
We side hugged,
I asked him
about life.
“I want to
thank you,”
he said.
“You taught me
if I remembered
nothing else
to always keep
a pen on me.”
He reached
in his pocket,
pulled out
a black pen
with gold banding.
“I just bought
my first house
and signed with
it. I thought
of you.”
My breath caught
a tear welled
and my heart
burst with
that now-I-can
die-a-teacher-
who-mattered-joy
I reached in
my purse
pulled out
my signature
Pilot Varsity
fountain pen,
blue ink,
and we clinked
pens, smiling
there on
Aisle 12
Tammi Belko of Ohio is our host for Day 25 of #VerseLove. You can read her full prompt here. She inspires us today to write Where I’m From poems, based on George Ella Lyon’s “Where I am From” poem. She provides a template to create a “Where I Am From” poem.
Royal Fortress Meadow
I’m from the Royal Fortress Meadow
from Breck shampoo and Johnson’s No More Tears
from wispy locks of amber gold, windblown in the breeze
I’m from chain-woven crowns of wildflowers, dandelions, and daisies
from backlit sunlight exposing the truth: there will never be no more tears
from churning butter and wondering why the pants don’t fit
I’m from ancestors of the lye soap stirred in the backyard tin tub
from the front porch swing and swigging Mason Jars of sweet tea
from wash behind your ears and do a good tick check
from a don’t you slam that screen door one more time! flyswatter granny
who swatted more than flies
I’m from the country church of the cardboard funeral fans
with the off-key piano
I’m from Georgia, Cherokee blood three generation branches up-tree,
still searching for the bloodstained earth of my ancestors
from Silver Queen corn, husks shucked
from shady pecan groves and Vidalia onion fields
from Okefenokee swamplands and railroads
that side that tallied three pees before flushing
from clotheslines of fresh sheets teeming with sweet dreams
from sleeping under a box window fan in sweltering summer heat
from folks doing what they could to survive
Donnetta Norris of Texas is our host today for the 22nd day of #VerseLove. She inspires us to write Mother Earth poems. You can read her full prompt here. She encourages us to make a list of all the gifts we have received from Mother Earth and to write a poem in the form of our choice to say thank you. She also provides these links for inspiration:
Today, I chose a pantoum and rooted it in Ecclesiastes 1:9
Nothing New Pantoum
there is nothing new under the sun
mind-blowing truth of Ecclesiastes
since the dawn of time, nothing new
everything we see was here all along
mind-blowing truth of Ecclesiastes
God hid gifts in Mother Earth’s belly
everything we see was here all along
discovered, spun, re-mixed anew
God hid gifts in Mother Earth’s belly
riches to bestow, wonders to behold
discovered, spun, re-mixed anew
sacred scriptures ~ this is true
riches to bestow, wonders to behold
since the dawn of time, nothing new
sacred scripture ~ this is true
there is nothing new under the sun
Stacey Joy is our host today for the 21st day of #VerseLove. You can read her full prompt here. She inspires us to write Mama’s Kitchen Poems.
Kitchens are oftentimes the heartbeat of a home. They are gathering places and hold memories like no other room in a house. Stacey mentions a recent podcast episode featuring legendary author Judy Blume, finding herself mesmerized by Blume’s memories and stories of her mother’s kitchen. If you are interested in listening to that episode, here is the link.
Next, Stacey shares the process: Let’s share our memories from our mothers’ kitchens, our own kitchens, or any kitchen that holds memories for you.
A Lock of Hair
there, hidden in the cakes and pies section
of Mom’s Gold Medal recipe box
with all the family secrets
an unsealed blue envelope
holds tender gold tendrils
~ cherished childhood hair ~
ethereal
long blond strands
of me
steeped
in
love, one
remaining
wisp of a child
blended, kneaded, shaped,
her own recipe for
disaster ~ aproned kitchen
ancestors gather still to check
on this bun baked through all their ovens:
did she fall? did she rise? did she turn out?
Susan Ahlbrand of Indiana is our host today for the 20th day of #VerseLove. She inspires us to write Noteworthy poems. You can read her full prompt here.
She shares the process for writing these poems: reflect on communications you’ve had in the past . . . notes like mine, phone calls, letters, texts, Facetimes, and then work them into a poem. Feel free to tinker with an inventive form.
Getting the Picture
there was this picture
this picture of a watermelon
A WATERMELON!
a watermelon sliced
sliced like cries
cries of a mother
a mother with cancer
cancer that consumed
consumed her, piece by piece
piece by piece, like a watermelon
like a watermelon, there was
there was this picture
picture a mother
a mother crying for mercy
for mercy denied
denied until the end
the end, after the pain
the pain of loss
loss of a body, loss of a family
a family broken, a shattered picture
picture a mother
a mother who mattered
mattered to her sons
her sons who loved her
loved her and listened
listened and heard
heard her pleas
her pleas for mercy
for mercy denied
denied by others
others who refused
refused to believe
believe she felt pain
pain that consumed, piece by piece
piece by piece consumed their mother
a mother who mattered
Stefani Boutelier leads us in Irish poetry today. You can read her full prompt, along with the poems and comments of others, here. She writes,”Today I will introduce the Deibide Baise Fri Toin form. It was difficult to find the full history of this form and more impossible to get a clear translation, but I like how it ends with one word to represent the power of single words and syllables. The quatrain form (3/7/7/1) is explained here:
Line 1: 3 syllables, rhyme A with two syllables
Line 2: 7 syllables, rhyme A with two syllables
Line 3: 7 syllables, rhyme B with one syllable
Line 4: 1 syllable, rhyme B
A published example of a Deibide Baise Fri Toin
This link provides a nice templated example at the bottom
Praise!
shake and sing
gospel choir awakening
hallelujah voices raise ~
praise!
Common Threads 