Our host today at http://www.ethicalela.com for Day 4 of #VerseLove is Jennifer Guyor Jowett of Michigan, who invites us to write grammatically ungrammatical poems, using mixed up parts of speech in place of others and made up words without regard for rules. You can nounify verbs, verbify adjectives, or whatever you want to do to write this type of poem. Come meet Jennifer and read her poem and prompt here!
A daughter of mine on a desert hike with a peace sign
Birkenstock Peaced-Up Pipe Dreams
when we wander Birkenstocks
corkbed frolic nope to socks
camouflagely sherpa’d arch
hippiescuffle guitar’d march
bellishbottomed denimly jeans
knowexactly peaced-up means
leatherfringe’d-up gauchovest
showsly braless halter’d chest
macramae’d-up shoulderbag
carefree pet rock tail-she-wag
daisychainedup tousled locks
when we wander Birkenstocks
I’m hosting #VerseLove today at http://www.ethicalela.com, where we write in verse everyday throughout the month of April to celebrate National Poetry Month. You can read the prompt and the poems shared by others here, or simply see the prompt below:
Inspiration
One of the most uplifting parts of a writing community is getting to know other writers, feeling a connection, and developing a sense of belonging as others welcome you to the group and encourage you in your writing journey. This is my fifth year writing with #VerseLove after meeting Dr. Sarah Donovan at NCTE. Today, let’s introduce ourselves through a Weekend Coffee Share poem, which can take the form of a list poem or a prose poem – or any other structure that you choose. Pour a cup of coffee and come sit down. You may have seen other bloggers writing as part of the Weekend Coffee Share, a powerful weekend writing topic developed by a blogger whose idea inspired this prompt. Raising a mug to Natalie!
Process
Pour yourself a cup of coffee or tea, and imagine being in a small coffee shop among friends. We’ve all strolled in from the cold, damp drizzle and are eager to meet you for the first time – or to catch up with you since last time. Pour us a cup, too, and share something about yourself with us. Invite us into your world, friend! Let your first line be If we were having coffee (or tea, or wine…)….
Oh – and share a picture of yourself with your cup in the comments if you wish!
Kim’s Poem
If We Were Having Coffee
If we were having coffee,
I’d tell you that #VerseLove changed my life
because of you.
Here, come closer and lean in.
Do you like light roast or bold?
Let me pour you a cup. Cream? Sugar?
If we were having coffee,
I’d ask you about your favorite poets
and tell you that as a child,
I spent hours, days, weeks, years reading
Childcraft Volume 1 Poems and Rhymes
and was twice gifted A Child’s Garden of Verses
for Christmas from relatives ~ in 1971 and 1972
and have been hooked on poetry since then.
If we were having coffee,
I’d tell you that I’m a bit of an introvert,
so I prefer writing over talking,
and that over the years, I have come to know
you through our writing ~ so I call you my friend.
I’ll be talking to someone somewhere and you’ll come up.
You always do.
When someone tells me they like Thai food, I say,
No way! One of my writing friends is in Thailand right now!
And when someone hums a tune from CATS, I say,
Girl! One of my writing friends sent me
Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats last year.
And when someone says they’re going to the west coast, I say,
Have fun! I was just there with my writing friends in November.
If we were having coffee,
I’d raise my mug to you and say,
Cheers to you, friend! Welcome to #VerseLove 2023!
When I was in California last November for the NCTE Convention, I programmed my phone’s navigation to take me to McCormick and Schmick’s at the Anaheim Garden Walk for the Slice of Life Meet-Up at 5:00. I couldn’t wait to meet everyone, to put faces with the names of the bloggers whose posts I read every Tuesday throughout the year and everyday during the month of March for the Slice of Life Writing Challenge. We were each bringing a gift for a writer for a gift exchange, but I knew that the best gift of all would be the personal connections I would make with my fellow writers.
I planned to arrive right on time so that I could be back at the Anaheim Hilton at 6:30 for the Open Write Meet-up in the MIX Restaurant for dinner with my group giving a presentation at the conference. Even though I was still in a boot as my broken right ankle healed, I figured this walk would be quick and easy.
I was wrong.
I’m not sure why, but whenever I’m walking in a major city along with hundreds of thousands of other people, I imagine that everyone is going to the same place I’m going – or at least that they know where everywhere is and can help me if I get lost. At the first intersection, my arrow was still wonky, changing directions like a compass that couldn’t locate magnetic north, so I took a chance and stayed in the stream with the masses.
I started scanning the throng of people for anyone who looked like a writer who might be headed to the table for the dozen or so of us who would be attending, and my eyes fell on two women about my age who appeared to have had the characteristic writer’s callus on the last knuckle of their middle fingers. I was convinced I’d successfully used my detective skills and found them.
At the next traffic light, I eased my way closer to them so that I could tag along and listen for a moment. They’d stopped talking, so I made a bold move and decided to ask.
“Are you going to the Slicer meet-up?”
No sooner had I gotten the words out of my mouth, I realized I had asked the wrong people the right question the wrong way, given the state of our world.
I found myself looking into two completely horrified faces. Horrified.
The walking light turned white, and they turned and took off in another direction, looking back over their shoulders at me as if I’d been sporting a knife in my boot. Me. A murderous slicer. I was glad I had saved a chain of emails in case the cops came and I had been taken in for questioning.
Next time, I’ll know to inconspicuously whisper, “Would you happen to be headed to the Slice of Life invitational dinner for celebrity writers?”
I walked on another block, and then I saw a familiar female face standing at a traffic light, waiting to cross. At least I was pretty sure it was her. I decided on a safer tactic.
“Fran?”
“Yes,” she replied, looking at me curiously.
“I’m Kim. I recognize your picture from your blog. Are you going to the meet-up?”
We walked the rest of the way together, and we managed to find our fellow writers.
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing the Slice of Life Writing Challenge now and throughout the year, and to Melanie Meehan for arranging such a lovely gathering, full of fun, laughter, writers’ gifts, and stories! I’m hoping that we will be able to enjoy time together again at this year’s NCTE Convention. I’ll plan to Uber and would love to share a ride with you to the Citrus Society Celebrity Writer’s Red Carpet Invitational Gala!
2022 Slicer Meet-Up in Anaheim, California
A street somewhere in Anaheim where I got lost and somehow avoided being arrested.
Our host today for the last day of the February 2023 Open Write is Stacey Joy, who inspires us to write etheree poems. You can read her prompt and poem here, along with others, and add your own if you wish. I’m traveling through three Southeastern states this week, and I have always found hotels to be some of the best places to write. Until now.
Upstairs
strong
coffee
hot showers
comfortable
bedding, firm pillows
large-screen television
whispery-gray painted walls
white down comforters on the beds
clean desk and chair with working wi-fi
hotel rooms are THE BEST places to write
Fitzgerald wrote books at The Grove Park Inn
Truman Capote at The Plaza
eliminating distractions?
any Hampton Inn will do…..
….unless there’s a toddler
crying all night long
jumping non-stop
on the floor
above
you
Britt Decker, our host at www.ethicalela.com today for the Open Write, shares a prompt that proves that we walk by thousands of writing opportunities everyday. We walk in them, past them, heck – we wear them! She shows us how to take a t-shirt from our closet with words, a picture, or a memory that will inspire poetry. It's as simple as going to the closet and considering all the possibilities. I love how her t-shirts inspire a poem about her own need of distance between work and play. Read the prompt here, and consider writing with us. I bought a t-shirt at the NCTE conference in Anaheim, California last November with a message I enjoy sharing – your story matters. My poem is a 3x5 today - short and simple like an index card - three lines, five syllables.
Your Story Matters
you’re a child in God’s
great universe so
your story matters
Today is the second day of the February Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. Our host today is Britt Decker of Houston, Texas. You can read today’s prompt and other poems here. And you can also share your own! Britt inspires us to write a “Me, Too!” poem. I’m writing mine in memory of and gratitude for my mother, Miriam Haynes, who would have been 80 today. She died in December 2015 after a long battle with Parkinson’s Disease.
Miriam
I can’t be the only one whose mother sewed her own formal dresses,
who made matching clothes like in the Sound of Music, only not from drapes
who was known as the crab lady on the
pier of St. Simons Island, Georgia for her fisherwoman skills
who could fly fish and deep sea fish and throw a cast net, too
all while driving the boat.
I can’t be the only one whose mother could wiggle her ears, making us laugh
who could bring a dead plant back to life
who rescued dogs and made them family
who knew all the answers when no one else did.
I can’t be the only one whose mother didn’t have enough superlatives
for all the things she did so well.
I can’t be the only one wishing her mother a happy heavenly birthday today
missing the phone calls that made the world right again.
And I’m not.
My brother loved her, too
and our dad, who still sends us random pictures of precious moments,
reminding us how blessed we all were
are
forever will be
because of her.
Text and photo from Dad this morning: “She made the dress.”
Yesterday was the last day of five days of January’s Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. Each month, this writing group gathers to write and give positive feedback to at least three other writers. I took a break yesterday to pause and give thanks for my daughter Mallory on her birthday.
Yesterday’s prompt was to write a Postcard Poem. Using a postcard or a blank index card, you draw a vertical line to separate the address and the poem on the writing side. Here’s my Haiku poem, prompted by a suspension bridge I crossed in December at Fall Creek Falls in Tennessee:
Today is the third day of five days of January’s Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com. Each month, this writing group gathers to write and give positive feedback to at least three other writers. Please join us! Here is the direct link, where you can read about today’s host, Barb Edler of Iowa, and the inspiration she brings in her prompt: https://www.ethicalela.com/connecting-with-your-inner-self/
Today’s poem is about reflecting on our goals. I think this prompt was designed just for me! I’m reflecting on my goals the last day of each month in the areas of creativity, experience, literature, gratitude, reflection, self-improvement, and spirituality that I spent the first days of the year crafting and describing on my blog. Today, a Haiku is a great way to celebrate the journey:
I'm in No Hurry
praying for answers
wondering about outcomes
I'm in no hurry
seeking my weight range
closet-eating M&Ms
I'm in no hurry
Reading Around the
U.S.A - savoring words
I'm in no hurry
counting my blessings
focusing on gratitude
I'm in no hurry
Route 66 plans
dreams in the making: someday
I'm in no hurry
creative touches
camera-ready journeys
I'm in no hurry
family stories
capturing the past in ink
I'm in no hurry
slowing down the pace
seeing more of it ~ not more
I'm in no hurry
We’re invited today to write Personal Letter poems that capture intimate moments. I think often of our old farm dog Archie, who lived under the porch of the Presbyterian Church over on Pedenville Road in Concord, Georgia and must have always been chased off with a broom by the cleaning crew. He had a dreadful fear every time I swept. In a thunderstorm, he chased a colleague’s car all the way home, looking for shelter from the storm and something to eat. Her twin girls, both veterinarians, nursed him back to health as best they could before their mother called me. This is the perfect dog for you, she urged. We’ve named him R.K. for Roadkill, which is what he’s gonna be if someone doesn’t give him a good home.
And so we brought R.K. to the Johnson Funny Farm, my husband holding him down in the bed of a Ford Ranger pickup truck as I drove us home (in a stick shift for the first time in many years), hurky-jerky all the way here, where we softened R.K. to Archie and came to love a dog who was as close to human as they get.
Good Ol’ Archie
whenever I clean the empty hardwood floor space under the antique oak buffet ~your thunderstorm safe zone~ my heart goes thud-thumpy
I exhale my eyes close I think of you, your eyebrows raising back and forth left, right, left….. looking me full in the face searching for love wanting needing my embrace waiting for my concrete to crumble
this was your favorite game
you wanted love more than food
when I let your human eyes pierce the stoic face I’d held as long as I could and my smile cracked, turned to laughter….
your full goofy body wag erupted with joy slathered me with sugary sweet love kisses paws on my shoulders
loving me as you did rescuing me as you did
* * *
and then came that morning. you hadn’t moved I knew before your three tail thud-thumps became my heartbeat
Anytime I see a new way of telling stories or writing, I get excited and buy stuff. That’s what happened when I was in Barnes and Noble in Atlanta recently and picked up a copy of Gathered Around the Campfire by Melody Carson and read a few pages of her real life stories about her experiences under the stars. That’s also what happened when I was walking through the Betty Dunn Nature Center at Fall Creek Falls State Park in Tennessee and saw a deck of cards called Campfire Stories: Prompts for Igniting Stories by the Fire, published by Mountaineers Books (Ilyssa Kyu & Dave Kyu). There are 50 cards in the deck, complete with instructions and variations for storytelling.
As one who loves to camp, I look forward to using these to generate new conversations as I relax and spend time with others as we make s’mores and stargaze. That’s enough of a reason to love these prompts. My role as a Literacy Specialist and leader of small writing groups is a bonus reason. Cards like these help in getting to know students and inspiring them with new ideas for their writing. The game element adds to the thrill!
Immediately, I was transported to White Wharf at Bear Skin Neck in Rockport, Massachussetts when I selected the card that asked me to share an object I found and kept from my travels. I can still see clearly the tiny pair of angel wings resting along the shore as I ambled around near the water’s edge searching for sea glass. My mother, who often took me shell hunting on Sea Island, Georgia when I was a child, found several pairs of intact angel wings over the years and celebrated each rare discovery. Her sweet hello from Heaven was a reminder that no matter where I am on the face of this planet, she is right there with me. I wrote a poem about my experience here.
A Hello from Heaven….Mom sent a pair of angel wings to White Wharf for me to find!
Another time, I took a walk with my daughter while visiting her for the weekend and picked up a rock at the edge of the path. I brought it home to put on my computer at work so that whenever I see it, I think back to that afternoon I spent with her and know that a piece of our journey is still tangible. These objects inspire the memories, and the memories keep those we love close to us.
“I realize their trailer was pretty tiny, but it didn’t feel overly small back then….In fact, it felt perfect. And I know (my grandparents’) little trailer planted seeds in me…making me look forward to the day when I would get my own trailer. Even now, five trailers and one motor home later, I can still feel my grandparents’ influence.” -Melody Carson
….and to echo, with my own words that are not published in this book but are forever in my heart and on my blog…..
“As a child, I camped with my grandparents on Fernandina Beach in Florida. I can still smell the sulfur in the water and see the table that magically became my bed in their truck camper. When my grandparents left each of their grandchildren a small inheritance, I knew what I would do with part of their gift after camping for years with my own children. I bought a camper so we can honor their legacy and continue making memories with their great, great grandchildren.” -Kim Johnson
Common Threads 