Category: Reflection

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VerseLove Day 26: Poetic Cartography

Clayton Moon of Thomaston, Georgia is our host today for the 26th day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com, inspiring us to write poems as cartographers capturing the essence of place through the five senses. You can read his full prompt here.

Hands holding steaming coffee cup on porch railing with sunrise over rolling hills and mist
Enjoying a hot cup of coffee on a rustic porch overlooking a misty sunrise landscape.

Sipping Home

come sit by me

on my front porch

first light rouses, groggy

from the dark of night

into the glorious morning skies

over rolling hills

winking at morning songbirds

praising their Maker

in the misty morning breeze

even as wildfires rage

come sit beside me

raise your coffee to your lips

take the lid off

breathe deeply

in /out/ in/ out

because just like any place

you must take it all in

to experience the rich flavor ~

hear its drip

taste its roasted bean

smell its trademark aroma

feel its piping warmth

see its dark awakenings

against the light of the eastern sky

come sit with me

let’s sip home

together

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VerseLove Day 25: Slam Poems

I am working on a slam poem to go with today’s prompt at ethicalela.com for the 25th day of VerseLove, but meanwhile this sonnet is burning a hole in my paper, so I share this one today and may convert it to a slam poem later. For now, peace.

Older woman reading a handwritten letter at a kitchen table with plants and a cup of tea
A woman happily reads a letter while sitting at a wooden kitchen table with plants and a cup of tea nearby.

Nature Sonnet

a fragrant flower in the windowsill

a bookmark made of braided meadow grass

the signs of earth indoors my heart doth fill

I long to take a watercolor class

to plein-air paint the sunsets orange-red

that fireball sinking ‘neath horizons west

where scenes of Mother Earth are richly fed

her images in nature-tones finessed

I long to write earthsongs in lilting verse

to feel cool breezes blowing through each line

as raindrops on fresh soil my soul immerse

as fragrant as bright morning glory vine

at every turn the earth extends her hand

inspiring me to love her ev’ry land

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VerseLove Day 23: Lose, Loss, Lost

Our host today for the 23rd day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com is Scott McCloskey of Michigan, who inspires us to write poems of loss. You can read his full prompt here.

Enough

here you are, slumped

next to me

in our favorite

chair and a half

your warmth on my hip

resting peacefully

Gabapentin doing its work

for your pain

Thank God your

mouth is on the armrest

with one paw

protecting it

breathing the other way

with breath so bad

it might kill a buzzard

but for your human it’s

the sign of life

of your holding on

and already I know

chances are high that

your teeth and mouth ulcers

and bladder stones

may not be all that is lost

next week

I feel tears welling just

thinking about it

you, our rescue schnauzer

with no known age or past

all things uncertain except

one thing:

we are tenderly and fiercely

bonded, imprinted, paired

as forever buddies

you are here,

you are warm and safe,

and you are loved

in this moment

now

which is

enough

for this hour

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VerseLove Day 23: First Words

Denise Krebs lives in Yucca Valley, California, near Joshua Tree National Park. She is busy learning to write habeas corpus petitions and briefs to help immigrant neighbors, campaigning for a new congress person, and stocking the shelves of the best Friends of the Library bookshop in her area. She blogs at Dare to Care. I am blessed to call Denise a personal friend, with whom I’ve presented at NCTE Conventions, written with for years at ethicalela.com, and write with each month as part of a small group of writers as part of The Stafford Challenge. I’m happy to introduce you to Denise today.

Denise inspires us to write borrowed line poems in a new way. She shares her process: Choose a poem and write the first word of each line in a column down the side of your page. You can use the whole poem or just a stanza. You can use one of Jackson’s or choose another poem or stanza from someone else you are reading. Write a free verse poem letting the other poet’s words carry you. You might find that being held to one simple constraint, like having the first word in each line determined, can release more freedom in your poetry.

I’ve been dabbling in watercolor techniques lately, getting ready to step out into retirement and paint landscapes of the places I visit. I was inspired by Denise’s poem today when I thought of dust settling – – as if it ever really settles – – but my mind went to watercolor and stardust, and I used Lauren Camp’s poem Tonight the Sky Breathes from her collection In Old Sky as my borrowed first words. Lauren was the astronomer poet in residence at The Grand Canyon and is also a former poet laureate of New Mexico. I attended a session where she spoke last month, and I fell in love with her style and her themes of darkness and grief over the loss of her father.

White winged horse flying in a vibrant starry galaxy with moon and constellations

Pegasus Wins the Derby

wet on dry, vivid
Thunder cracks seep in
and settle in bold strokes
like horse hoof dust

Let wet on wet be
what carries racecloud churnings
night a stardust palette
washing teardrop stains into constellations

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4/19: The Kid Lit Progressive Poem

Come along and read our 2026 Progressive Poem, where a poet adds a line each day, it’s organized by Margaret Simon and originally started by Irene Latham.  Today is my day to add a line to the poem, and you can see below the map of the Land of Poetry. I’m continuing a tweet by Meek Dove today over in Thackeray’s Thicket. I learned, through a bit of research, that William Thackeray has a fitting middle name for a theme of The Land of Poetry.

One possibility for what The Land of Poetry might look like, line and map by Tabatha Yeatts

The Land of Poetry

On my first trip to the Land of Poetry,
I saw anthologies of every color, tall as buildings.
A world of words, wonder on wings, waiting just for me!
Birding for words shimmering, flecked in golden gilding.

Binoculars ready, I toured boulevards and side streets
exploring vibrant verses, verses so honest and tender,
feathery lyrics, bright flitting avian athletes
soaring ‘cross pages in rhythmic splendor.

In the Land of Poetry, I am the conductor,
seeking oodles of poems that tug at my heart,                                      
a musical medley of sound and structure,                             
an open mic in Frost Forest! Wonder who’ll take part?

There’s a pause in the program; no one takes the stage
the trees quiver, the audience looks up. Raven lands,                                
singing Earth’s message of the sage.  
“Poetry in motion will be forevermore, from forests to sands.”

“Scatter,” she croaked. “Beyond Wilde Pond, to each and every beach.”
Meek Dove mustered courage and sang, “Instill humanity with compassion and peace.

Let Thackeray’s middle name, from this thicket, hearts reach!”

A bird sitting on a moss-covered branch among flowers, singing 'Make Peace'
Meek Dove perched on a flowering branch singing ‘Make Peace’ from Thackeray Thicket in The Land of Poetry

And I’m handing the fabulous feather pen to Buffy Silverman to continue our journey through The Land of Poetry.  Take the wheel, Buffy!!

Below is a list of all the poets where the 2026 Progressive Poem has and will make stops:


April 1 Tabatha Yeatts at The Opposite of Indifference
April 2 Cathy Stenquist at A Little Bit of This and That
April 3 Patricia Franz at Reverie
April 4 Donna Smith at Mainely Write
April 5 Janice Scully at Salt City Verse
April 6 Denise Krebs at Dare to Care
April 7 Ruth Hersey at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town
April 8 Rose Cappelli at Imagine the Possibilities
April 9 Margaret Simon at Reflections on the Teche
April 10 Janet Clare Fagel at Reflections on the Teche
April 11 Diane Davis at Starting Again in Poetry
April 12 Linda Baie at Teacher Dance
April 13 Linda Mitchell at Another Word Edgewise
April 14 Jone MacCulloch at
April 15 Joyce Uglow at Storied Ink
April 16 Carol Varsalona at Beyond Literacy Link
April 17 Robyn Hood Black at Life on the Deckle Edge
April 18 Michelle Kogan at More Art for All
April 19 Kim Johnson at Common Threads
April 20 Buffy Silverman
April 21 Irene Latham at Live Your Poem 
April 22 Karen Edmisten
April 23 Heidi Mordhorst at my juicy little universe
April 24 Mary Lee Hahn at A(nother) Year of Reading
April 25 Tanita Davis at Fiction, instead of Lies
April 26 Sharon Roy at Pedaling Poet
April 27 Tracey Kiff-Judson at Tangles and Tails
April 28 Tabatha Yeatts at The Opposite of Indifference
April 29
April 30

Also, hop over to http://www.ethicalela.com to day for the 19th day of VerseLove, where Stefani Boutelier is hosting us and inspiring us to up our game as she gamifies poems. I used a Wordle inspiration today:

God and Emily Having a Garden Chat

take a stand for hope
Hebrews Eleven, Verse One
the thing with feathers

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VerseLove Day 18: Golden Hinge

Angie of Mauritius is our host today for the 18th day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com. You can read her full prompt here, inspiring us to write Golden Hinge poems, where the first line of the poem also reads vertically as the first words in each line, As a child, I got hooked on poetry in the pages of Childcraft by one poem that did it for me – Overheard on a Salt Marsh by Harold Monro, and so I took a line from Joy Sullivan’s Remember What It Was Like to Be a Kid? from her book Instructions for Traveling West to pay tribute to Harold Monro today.

Tribute to Harold Monro

have you found the jewel of language

you discovered in childcraft volume 1 when you

found the one with a nymph and a goblin in

the salt marsh mesmerized by an emerald necklace

jewel stolen from the moon

of your dreams, carried in your soul, this captivating

language of poetry still shimmering green?

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VerseLove Day 17: The Queen of Our Kitchens

Our host today for the 17th day of VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com is Kratijah, who lives in Mauritius, where she teaches English Language Acquisition and Language & Literature at Le Bocage International School. She inspires us to write poems about our kitchens in free verse, and you can read her full prompt here.

Hidden Signals

on the wall by the French doors

in my kitchen hangs a

framed notebook paper drawing

of a rolling pin

its heavy wooden body

completely out of orientation

with the writing at one end

as if the artist got bored

or hungry

or murderous

in some seminar long ago

in some other language

but rolling pins and art

and French doors

speak in a

universal female tongue

so I have a hunch

why my mother

gave me this framed

picture in 1985

when I married my

first husband

she never liked him

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VerseLove Day 16: Beginning Again

Stacey Joy of California is our host today for VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com, inspiring us to write poems of starting over or redefining ourselves in some new way. You can read her full prompt here.

Stacey has me thinking about freedom and restraints – and the presence or absence of them in their many complex forms. She’s the second person to recommend The Book of Alchemy by Suleika Jaouad since yesterday, explaining that one of the writing exercises in the book prompted her etheree form today – a form with ten lines with that many numbered syllables on each line (1-10). I have the book coming my way on an interlibrary loan and hope to be holding it without a wait very soon. I used her etheree as a pattern today, letting her footsteps guide the way as I thought of retirement as a freedom to travel and see more National Parks from coast to coast. I’m in the process of trading my InTech Aucta Willow Rover for a small Class C Tiffin Wayfarer – not quite like Steinbeck’s “Rocinante” truck camper van of 1960 like I camped in with my grandparents in the early 1970s, but one I can drive without a tow vehicle so I can take to the road even if my husband stays back for work and needs his truck. And I’m getting the twin-to-king conversion bed so I can take my husband (king) or a friend (twin) along for the ride, complete with a dog or three. And sip coffee, read, write…..and learn to breathe.

Rocinante

when
freedom
(retirement)
comes in August
I hope to behold
Steinbeck’s Rocinante
packed and ready to explore
Open Roads of America
enjoying the journey as much as
the destination: learning how to breathe

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VerseLove Day 13 – Haibun of Clarity

Our host today at http://www.ethicalela.com for VerseLove is Ann Burg of New York, who inspires us to write haibun poetry. Haibun is a form that includes a prose passage to set the stage for a haiku, which immediately follows the prose. You can read her full prompt here. I reflected on a scene from Saturday morning as we ate breakfast.

The Head and The Feet

Saturday morning breakfast at the Country Kitchen on Pine Mountain we were waiting on our eggs and grits when I saw him shuffle past our table. A young and impatient mother with a crying child pitching a fit was stuck behind the elderly gentleman in in the aisle, clearly frustrated at his slow speed, in his ill-fitting sweatpants with black socks and orthopedic sandals. He veered right n the direction of the restroom and she squeezed left to her table, kid still screaming. My husband’s back was to the action as I gave the play-by-play. Notice him, I urged, when he comes back by. I thought it ironic that his orthopedic sandals looked like hiking sandals. Life can be cruel like that sometimes, but eggs arrive to scramble hard truths. I was taking a bite when my husband asked, Is that a veteran’s hat? We should buy his breakfast. And the next minute, this husband of mine – just like his mother would have done – excuses himself to walk by the man’s table to get a better look. And then I saw them talking. Why did tears fill my eyes? Why, here at this table, over eggs and bacon, coffee and grits and buttered biscuits with muscadine preserves, was I crying as I watched my husband place his hand on the shoulder of the old man and his wife as he thanked him for his service. I escaped to the gift shop to collect myself, wipe away the tears, before my husband returned with the scoop – as his mother would have done: it’s a veteran’s hat. He’s 78, was a sergeant in the Army, and he has four kids who are all currently serving in the military. His wife told me he has cancer, and when he finished chemo and his gray hair came back dark. And he always smiles. So we finished our last bites and I felt the tears welling again, excused myself to the restroom, and was almost fine until the old man walked by and place his hand on my husband’s shoulder in gesture of figuring out who’d treated them to breakfast. And I realized what we’d always said of ourselves when we walk into a place: I look down for snakes, he looks up for bees ~ and though we see things differently, we don’t miss what’s important.

I looked down, old feet

my husband looked up, saw him ~

a soldier marching

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Verse Love Day 11: The Loves

Our host today is former high school English teacher, Kate Sjostrom , a teacher educator at the University of Illinois at Chicago and Writer in Residence at the Hemingway Foundation of Oak Park. 

You can read Kate’s full prompt here as she inspires us to write about emotions in concrete and abstract terms.

Brown and white bird with spotted chest singing on tree branch
A Wood Thrush sings while perched on a branch in a green forest.

Elation Over the Song of the Wood Thrush

it’s 6:38 a.m. when I hear it

we’ve just taken the boys out

to do their morning business

when a familiar note plays

from the branch-pew of a tree

on Pine Mountain

like a retro diner Jukebox favorite

a song to stir the heart

not call-like,

not chatty or operatic

definitely not theatric

(like that one lady in church,

thinks she can sing)

still, this voice offers hymn

praise to its maker and in

that way they are alike

this voice isn’t

wearing colorful Gucci garments –

picture instead

a simple watercolor painting of

dark, milk, and white chocolates

splotched with dots

and caramel feathers

the star voice of the woods

and doesn’t even know it

doesn’t show off or sing louder

like I would do with a voice

like that ~ why would I

ever say anything?

I’d sing it all, asking where the

tomatoes are in the grocery store

and what is my balance

at the bank and I’d be the

talk of the town for all the

wrong reasons ~ folks

would say I’ve gone off

the deep end

……but if I were a bird

I’d hope to be a Wood Thrush

the best voice in the choir

so humble

so unassuming

so musical

turning heads

with elation just to listen

and even sour Simon

Cowell would look up

and smile, knowing

there’s the talent

and press the Golden Buzzer

but with my Wood Thrush ways

I’d shun the competition

not needing his endorsement

I’d crap on his head

my own golden buzzer

on my way to another branch

still singing