Patchwork Prose and Verse
One Pair Shoe Rule: a 6,7 poem in lined syllables
I have a one-pair shoe rule
whenever I travel
that goes with my direct flight
plan with one small carry-on
a loaded Kindle device
fully charged, ready to read
wear back what I wore there
and every piece of clothing
matches every other piece
and my basic black zip boots
Denver’s Blucifer: a 6,7 poem
they said I’d see Blucifer
outside Denver’s airport
his eyes glowing evil red
I stayed on the lookout
from our Uber’s front seat
and sure enough: there he stood!
Denver has offbeat art
in a Waldo’s Chicken
we saw paintings of Ozzie
(biting at a chicken’s head)
and Reba McEntyre
Prince and Martha Stewart
Jim Carrey (Ace Ventura)
……all featuring chickens
unexpected artwork makes
me want to go exploring……
On the first Monday evening of each month at 7 p.m., I meet with a small group of Stafford Challenge poets via Zoom. We’re also members of EthicalEla, and we’ve presented together at NCTE. Periodically, we’ll text each other a poem or prompt. Our evening meetings include time for writing and sharing.
Our group consists of Glenda of Idaho, Denise of California, Barb of Iowa, and me. We weren’t sure whether or not Denise was going to make it this week, but she texted us a prompt in case we wanted to try the writing prior to the meeting and have something to share.
This was her prompt:
Steering clear of adverbs was challenging (I think of Stephen King’s words: the road to hell is paved in adverbs). Writing without them is not easy. I noticed the need for doubling down on adjectives to meet the sensory part of the prompt and also accepting that this would be a major run-on sentence. Here is the poem I shared with my small group on Monday night:
we’re listening to Christmas music, joy
filling our hearts and souls ~ chicken pot pie
piping hot and broiler-top crisped and browned
our three schnozzles snoozing by the fireplace
Sam’s Club Members Mark Old Vine Zinfandel
spilling from a ruby red wine chalice
catching each sparkle of shimmering light
Vermont Flannel blankets warming our toes
in forest green and rich brown earth-tone plaid
on this crisp night here in rural Georgia
I’m so thankful for my writing friends who always inspire me to try new forms and challenges. And Denise showed up – – after a long day of travel, in a Chipotle, still not yet having arrived at her destination for the evening. The four of us each shared a poem and caught up on life, and for that time of fellowship, I am grateful.
I want to go back
to the mountains with this crew
the photos show why
I worked with two Humanities teachers in our school district to acquaint students in our 9th Grade Academy with way that they can create poetry from prose. Here is one form of writing we used to mark the geography of a place from our writing. I was using my blog post from Tuesday to model how to let prose inspire poetry.
Golden Shovel Poems
A Golden Shovel poem takes a sentence or phrase from prose (or another poem) and writes it vertically, placing those words at the beginning or end of each line. Ask me about double, triple, quadruple and quintuple shovels…..
Singing Off-Key
We spent the week together having fun and
Can’t wait to
Leave on our next family trip, singing
Jesus, Take the Wheel with Carrie
In off-key high notes through the back roads of
Tennessee, Comin’ ‘Round the Mountain
I created a writing workshop with two of our Humanities teachers to acquaint students in our 9th Grade Academy with way that they can create poetry from prose. Here is one form of writing we used to mark the geography of a place from our writing. I was using my blog post from Tuesday to model how to let prose inspire poetry. Today’s poem is a Zip Ode.
Zip Ode Poetry
A Zip Ode takes a Zip Code of a place, written vertically, and uses that many words on each line.
Example: Sevierville, Tennessee’s Zip Code is 37764
Zip Ode to Sevierville, Tennessee
3 Jesus came along
7 with us on our family vacation in
7 October, keeping children and adults in check
6 Hiding Him, Finding Him, Remembering Him
4 in thoughts and actions
Our host today for the first day of the October Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com is Fran Haley of North Carolina. She and I are teaming up together this month to bring the writing prompts for the three days of this month’s challenge. Fran and I both live in small towns with the same name – she in North Carolina, and I in Georgia. Here’s a little more about Fran Haley:
Fran Haley is a K–12 literacy educator who coordinates elementary programs centered on a love of books and the joy of reading aloud. She helps young writers find their voices on the page in creative ways. A pastor’s wife, mom, and Franna of two spirited granddaughters, she savors the quiet rhythms of rural life near Raleigh, NC. The pre-dawn hours are Fran’s sacred writing time; you can find her there in the stillness, seated at the kitchen table with a sleeping puppy (a miniature longhaired dachshund named Jesse) in her lap. She authors the blog Lit Bits and Pieces: Snippets of Learning and Life.
Fran inspires us to write by reminding us of the significance of today. She says, “Today is the third Saturday in October, which happens to be National Sweetest Day, according to the National Day Calendar. Originally “Candy Day,” the recognition began in 1916 with American confectioners encouraging high standards in candy-making and the patronage of candy shops and bakeries. The observance was suspended due to sugar rationing in World War I. “Candy Day” eventually resumed; historians note that it was also meant to be altruistic, a time for buying sweets and distributing to those who could not afford them. The holiday later evolved into “Sweetest Day” and the giving of notes, cards, and gestures of love. “
She wonders what “sweet things” we can consider and shares her process here:
She adapted the list of suggestions on National Day Calendar for our purpose today:
Fran chose the last option, in narrative free verse.
Fran’s Poem
The Gift
Late in the evening
my husband aims the remote,
presses a button,
banishes flickering ghosts.
All is still and silent in the lamplight.
He turns to me:
“You know I love you, don’t you?”
That timbre—
that deep, low note in his voice
—my brain translates to
Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!
Prepare for impact!
Even as I answer, Yesss, I am guessing:
The doctors have called. It’s his heart again.
Or worse. What now. What now.
We’ve spent the last decade—
a quarter of our marriage—
skidding to sudden stops,
pressing the pause button,
resuming in altered states,
patched and scarred.
I can’t even summon a prayer.
I brace for the crash.
The shattering.
But he’s just scrolling on his phone.
He holds it out:
“What do you think of this?”
A photo of a red-gold puppy
lying on a blanket.
I can’t process.
I’ve missed a cue
—how early does dementia begin?
“Precious,” I say, confused.
My husband looks at me for a long moment,
then: “He’s ours.
I put down a deposit
three days ago.”
What am I hearing?
Is this real?
A dream?
My heart had given up hoping
for a dog, in light of his battles…
yet this man, so valiant
in suffering,
begins to sob
with the magnitude
of his own sacrifice,
offering me
new life.
And she passes the pen to us with the challenge to write our own Sweetest Day poems. Here is mine:
Pajama Adventure to Krispy Kreme
it was just after 7 a.m.
I was still in pajamas
writing at the kitchen table
on family vacation
when my son asked
you want to take a ride?
I reminded him: I’m still in pajamas
no worries, he assured ~ come on!
the hot light came on as he pulled
into the parking lot
and a couple dozen later
we were on our way back
with hats and hot glazed doughnuts,
creme filled and sugar-laden,
to share with the others
just as the good Lord
intended
wonder-filled wildlife
sightings, up close and first-hand
driving through Cades Cove
Everyone who joined in this family gathering in Sevierville, Tennessee had their things they wanted to do – – the Smoky Mountain Nascar Speedway, Anakeesta, family game night, dinner out at a special restaurant, and movie time. Mine was visiting Cades Cove, a nature sanctuary that is part of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, where on any given day you can see bears (most hoped-for sighting), wild boar, river otters, deer, foxes, bobcats, snakes, raccoons, wild turkeys, and all kinds of other birds and small mammals.
I was among the throngs hoping to spot a black bear when we entered the eleven mile one-way driving loop through the park. We were blessed with weather every day on this trip, with clear skies and morning temperatures in the upper 50s and afternoons rising into the upper 70s.
We drove past countless creek beds, where we took time to look extra-close for thirsty wildlife out for a morning drink.
And although we didn’t stop at any of the historic churches or homes in the area, we did make a quick trek through the visitor’s center for a souvenir sweatshirt and time to stretch our legs.
The rustic vibe of the cabins and the outdoor beauty created the perfect mood to set the stage for all of the surprises ahead. First, we saw a murder of crows and tried to say murder as many times as we could. October’s spooky chill and the turning of the leaves cast a charming spell on us as we wound through the park, my window down and Zoom lens ready to snap photos of anything that moved.
I never knew this rule, but being in the car kept us safe from any mama bears that might get protective – – if we were fortunate enough to see one.
Songbirds sang and perched on limbs overhead, and we spotted a doe in the clearing. I wondered whether I, if I were a doe, would choose this place to raise my family. Surely it has its more elevated risks, or at least I predict that it would.
Next, we noticed cars slowing and barely creeping in the line. Up ahead, there was a rafter of turkeys – about ten or twelve, out in the field to the left of us. They crossed right in front of us as we approached. I said a prayer, “Lord, I loved seeing those turkeys, but if you could arrange a bear crossing right in front of us, I’d like to put in a request. Thank you.” And onward we drove.
Up ahead and around the bend, my daughter saw a rustling in the bushes just feet from her passenger door in the back seat. We slowed down, and there in the thicket was a black bear, ambling along the shrubs. We gave it some space as it stepped out directly in front of the car to cross the road.
If you’ve never seen a bear in the wild, its beauty will leave you spellbound. It’s a sight like no other, and its lumbering walk hints at playfulness and strength all at once. I imagined that if it had seen a rabbit at that very moment, we’d have seen the speed and agility of a breakfasting bear. It was, after all, 10:18 a.m. as it stepped out from the trees onto the paved loop.
We sat back, in awe, as it made its way into the woods on the other side, my camera set to click-click-click its every step of the way.
And then, my daughter announced another was behind it – – a little black bear cub, following its mama. Maybe a yearling – – it was a sight to behold, its ears not quite as perked and its steps much lighter and less lumbering. There it went, right behind her, disappearing into the dense woods. We started to move ahead, hoping to catch sight of them walking along the edge of the forest.
But wait.
There’s more.
Another little cub ran across, trying its best to keep up with the family. It was so cute, and looked to be a bit smaller than the first cub.
We pulled over at the place to stop and watch, and we got caught in the line of traffic approaching to see what we’d witnessed. A wildlife viewing traffic jam happened, but for one moment we had a front row seat to the wonder and excitement of a family of bears.
We watched for a while as the cubs played at the foot of a tall tree, with mama off in the distance pausing just ahead of them in a dip of a hill. They tumbled and tossed like two little kids would roll around in the floor, putting on a show for all who were watching.
And then we drove on, leaving our space for others who wanted to catch a glimpse of them.
We decided to take the loop one more time, jockeying off down Sparks Lane instead of exiting the cove. And while we didn’t see another bear, we did encounter a wild boar off in one of the meadows. A park ranger was stationed there to keep the cars moving in that area of the park. We learned that the boars are fairly common in Cades Cove, but that this was a rare sighting because the boars are generally nocturnal and secretive in nature.
We forged ahead, keeping watch for other wildlife, and I thanked the Good Lord for the front row seat to the bears I got to see. I’m as thankful for that wild hog, the turkeys, the crow and other birds, and the deer as I am the bear and her cubs, but the bears added a special layer of joy and happiness to the adventure. And God knew they would!
We’ll be back again. This is a treasure of a drive, rather like the Yellowstone of Tennessee. It’s an unforgettable excursion, and one I’m glad I could share with family!
How did we get kids talking?
How do you get a three year old
to share stories?
Campfire Stories Kids’ Deck!
It’s the theme of this trip- fireside stories. We’re sharing memories and telling stories, and even the youngest kids are getting in on the action. One of the best story generators I’ve ever seen for all ages is Campfire Stories Deck for Kids.
We’ve all been playing. Each storyteller takes a character card (a clumsy fox, a talkative bison, a gassy whale) and an action card (finds a treasure in the desert, accidentally pulls the drain at the bottom of the ocean, jumps into a cloud from a mountaintop). One grandchild laughed so hard telling his story we could hardly understand him. We’ve all had the belly giggles from listening and envisioning the scenes.
Each night of the trip has been full of stories, and we can’t wait to tell more!
we’re sharing
the joy of cooking
one night at a time
one bite at a time
celebrating
family ties
in magical aprons
Common Threads 