Poetry Friday – Thankful for Poetry Swapping and New Prompts

It’s been a while since I’ve been here; Hello, Poetry Friday friends! Linda Baie is hosting the round-up today at Teacher Dance with some Dickens magic.

I woke up this Friday morning, missing this community and thankful once again for the friends I swapped poems with this summer: Tabatha Yeatts, Buffy Silverman, Michelle Kogan, Tanita Davis, Margaret Simon, and Tricia Stohr-Hunt.

A Cento of Gratitude

Hey, have you seen
that nimble
future with sunlight?
Sunflowers’
showy petals unfold
tasting the sky
then lift me up to bloom

(lines from Michelle, Tabatha, Tricia, Buffy, and Margaret)

One of the treasures from this summer that I’ve often used this month is the wallet of prompts that Tricia Stohr-Hunt made. (She wrote about it here.) I’m including a few poems that I’ve written using these very engaging and new-to-me prompts. Thanks, Tricia, and thanks to all those who participate in the poetry swaps. (Special thanks to Tabatha, for organizing graciously and excellently!)

Kai
(A Pleiades Poem)
Kind, smart, good provider
Keeping life compelling
Kickstart a new chapter
Key to unravel doubt
Kernel of truth revealed
Kindle a future hope
Knitted closely in love

arise
(A Prisoner’s Constraint Poem)
meanness
is worse
since we
own a
ruinous
womanizer.
now we
ooze
racism,
venom,
ruin.

we remain.
arise anew.
move.

Bike Ride
(A Tetractys Poem)

rain
thunder
and lightning
coming soon, now
we rode fast, high power, beat the storm. Yes!

A Poem Without Rocio
(A Lipogram Poem)

Even when
we ban
new humans,
she wants us.
Even when we
take away the means,
take away status,
she wants us.

Maybe
she and they
stay when
we assent,
when we
get that we
need them.

Early Gift
(An Octelle Poem)

The rain whispered her dreams to me
in the early morning would be
She holds her pen to draw some
promises of spring blossoms
We will sing into the breeze
the drops trickling through the trees
The rain whispered her dreams to me
in the early morning would be

A Day at Eloy

6 October 2025 TwoWritingTeachers.org

Sunday morning my sister and I got up early and drove to Eloy Detention Center. We got to the detention center at 12:30 before our 1:00 p.m. appointment. It took the whole 30 minutes to go through the check-in process. We needed our driver’s license and car license plate number, written on my hand. That’s all we could bring in according to the signs. We had a car key that we also brought in because we didn’t know where else to put it. They kept it for us at the desk.

This detention center is known as “the deadliest immigration detention center in the U.S.” It’s very much like a prison. We had to go through about six doors with cameras as we had to identify ourselves by name to get each door unlocked. We went through a metal detector and our shoes went through an x-ray machine. Then we were patted down.

After twenty minutes in a waiting room and a couple more doors, we met our friend. Hugs were limited to the beginning and end of the visit. And limited in duration. “Just a regular hug,” we were told when our hug lingered too long for them.

We sat at a table with a six-inch wooden barrier, but we weren’t allowed to touch over the barrier. They made that very clear when I took Rocio by the hand over the barrier.

Once while we were talking, a guard came by and told Rocio to take her hand out of her shirt. WTF? I thought. She had been touching her shoulder just under the edge of her scrubs. I immediately rubbed my shoulder under my shirt. In solidarity? I don’t know. I wondered how someone would ever agree to do a job that strips dignity and agency from humans. Will she tell me not to do it too? I wondered as I rubbed my shoulder.

No more of this nonsense. No more punishing, humiliating, and terrorizing people who try to immigrate legally. No more doing it in our name.

What can we do to make it stop?

A Lipogram
A Poem Without Rocio

Even when
we ban
new humans,
she wants us.
Even when we
take away the means,
take away status,
she wants us.

Maybe
she and they
stay when
we assent,
when we
get that we
need them.


A lipogram is a writing that leaves out a letter (or a group of letters). In this one, I’ve left out the letters in Rocio’s name.

ADDENDUM: If you would like to bless Rocio with a postcard or letter of encouragement, please let me know and I’ll email you her address. (Your email will come to me if you leave a comment.) By the way, you can write in Spanish, English or in French. She speaks them all, in addition to her native languages. Thank you!

Slice of Life – Hustle-Pedaling Home

Today is the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for providing this place to share slices of our lives.

We got up early this morning to take a bike ride. The coming rain showers, due at 7:00 a.m., were not going to stop us. We left a few minutes after six, and had a nice ride to Black Rock Canyon, a satellite section of Joshua Tree National Park.

We saw lightning in the distance and considered waiting under the awning of the visitor center for the coming storm to pass. Instead, we decided to hustle-pedal home (in power level 3 on our e-bikes).

About a mile from home it started raining, but not too hard–just sprinkles on my shirt. When we got home, under the carport roof, it was exactly 7:02 a.m. That’s when the buckets started pouring out of the sky! It seemed magically engineered.

I was so thankful to be home! Now it’s 8:30 a.m., and we’ve had a half inch of rain. (Our first measurable rain this monsoon season.)

Poetry Friday – A Poetic Conversation

Today is Poetry Friday, and Karen Edmisten is hosting. Thank you!

Thank you, Poetry Sisters, for the invitation to join you in passing notes to a poem. I chose to use first lines in Nikki Giovanni’s “Talk to Me, Poem, I Think I Got the Blues” to start my stanzas. Then I wrote a note to Mary Oliver’s “Poppies”, a poem that I loved and read several times last weekend when I was with my family at my brother-in-law’s memorial service.

Talk to me, Orange Poem
(After Nikki Giovanni and Mary Oliver)

Talk to me, Poem.
Orange has always been
a color of happiness.

Have you been hijacked, Poem?
Your poppies as orange flares
with their sweet yellow hair–
I love those poppies of orange.

I know poems grow old,
but you are just over thirty.
So, not so old.

I know poems get remembered,
and I will remember you.
When I forget beauty.
When I forget invitation.
When the deep, blue night
tries to make me forget orange.
I will remember you, Poem.

What are your strengths, Poem?
levitating light,
happiness done right,
a kind of holiness,
washed and washed,
you say.
Yes, your strengths.

Talk to me, Orange Poem.
Make me happy again.

Image by Couleur from Pixabay

Slice of Life – Free Rocio

26 August 2025 TwoWritingTeachers.org

On Monday eight women activists drove 1.5 hours to the office of our U.S. Representative. We met with two of his staff members to try to seek the release of our friend and asylum seeker, Rocio. You can read her story here, and you can still sign and share the petition at the same link. (Thank you to those who already signed it!)

We had a productive meeting with the two female staff members. We were just about finished telling Rocio’s story, when my phone buzzed with her calling from the Arizona detention center. The timing couldn’t have been better. After I greeted her, I put her on speaker and explained where we were and who was in the room. She was then able to share how her knee is doing and answer questions in her own voice–and bonus–in her own language, as the two staff members were bilingual Spanish speakers. After they finished, we all affirmed our love and support. At that moment we were 11 women in a conference room, with the same goal–getting Rocio out on bond so she could continue her asylum process. When the phone conversation was concluded, we sensed a greater investment from the staff members. We left with some action steps.

As we began home, we ran a couple of unrelated errands and ate our picnic lunch in the truck while we drove. Then my sister saw a sign for $1 ice cream cones, but we passed it and there wasn’t another turn for a while. I looked up “Tastee Freeze” on Maps because I thought I had seen one early. It would have been a blast from our past to go and get a berry sundae at a Tastee Freeze. Another place came up on the map very close to where we were: Ice Tickles Freeze ‘N Eat Bars. I don’t know why I thought it might be like a Tastee Freeze, with “Freeze” in the name, but I did. I sent her driving to it via Google Maps. The shop was, like the sign says, a “Walk-in Ice Cream Truck.” They had every kind of frozen confection you can imagine. We had fun reminiscing about all the popsicles we’ve eaten over the years. When I bought both of them for $7, my bargain-loving sister said, “We could have had seven soft serve cones.” When we got back on the road, we passed the Tastee Freeze just a mile later. Oh, well.

On the way home, we drove through a powerful thunderstorm. It’s monsoon season in the desert, with big, heavy drops, as well as flash floods and large flooded flat areas, like this (usually) dry lake bed. Thankfully, we were able to drive through it safely. Sadly, the rain didn’t make it to my house. We haven’t had any rain this summer.

Now, we will continue to work to get Rocio freed.

Slice of Life – E-Biking Joy

19 August 2025 TwoWritingTeachers.org

On Friday, we got up early and took a summer bike ride around our desert. (After several weeks of excessively hot low temperatures, we had not been out for a while.) The Friday morning ride reminded me of the delights we have had since we bought our electronic mountain bikes over three years ago. We’ve had quite a few bumps and bruises and one cut lip, but more joys than we can count.

When I came home from our early morning ride, I went to the Poetry Friday gathering of posts, and read Heidi Mordhorst’s clever and interesting “invasive: a kudzudoku” poem. It made me want to try to write one myself. How did she do that, I wondered?

I set out to give it a try. First, I wrote a list of words and phrases that made me think of the bike ride I had taken that morning. Then I created a template table with hints from Heidi’s poem. Next I just plugged in my words, read the various lines, and then tweaked as I wished. It was nice to have a mentor poem like Heidi’s.

Some of my favorite lines:

“Everything with a serving of relaxed humming summer”
“Woken resiliency relaxed, overflow with the wild”
“Bike unrestricted, relaxed thoughts hallowed”
“Breathing in wisdoms unrestricted with a serving of strength”

Haha, I just realized that middle word on the grid (like the FREE space on a bingo card) is important. It showed up in three of the four  faves I shared above.

We went out on our bikes Saturday too, and again Monday, leaving early enough to need a light jacket. Coming back with sweat dripping down our backs. A wonderful summer morning! Autumn biking will be here soon.

If the “___doku” poem sounds interesting, here is a Google Document copy for you to fill in to make your own “___doku” poem.

Poetry Friday – An Arabic Poem

Today is Poetry Friday. Heidi Mordhorst, at my juicy little universe, is rounding up the posts this weekend. I’m in awe of her magical poem, “Kudzudoku.” How did she do that?

Thursday evening the Stafford Challenge had a guest speaker, Philip Metres. He shared poems and his poetic values. I heard of Philip last year when he and Jessica Jacobs used the same stock artwork on the covers of their books published at around the same time. They began a conversation about their books and poetry. I mentioned them in a post here. Tonight Metres read a couple of poems from his book Fugitive / Refuge and some from his new book coming out this fall.

Metres also introduced us to Marwa Helal, an Egyptian American poet who created “The Arabic” poetry form. The Arabic form is meant to be read right to left, have one Arabic letter, an Arabic number, and an Arabic footnote.  Here is one short Arabic form poem Helal wrote.

I wrote this poem after our session.

In Today’s News

(A poem to be read right to left)
“.catastrophic” is Gaza* in insecurity food says UN The
.malnourished are one age under children 40,000+
today deaths related-hunger more Four
.leftovers for enough food had I while,
children were 106; 239 :far so, death to Starved
mourn to time afforded am I while,
.ago year a died who grandchild one
32 :attacks Israeli by today Killed
today just ٣٢ is That .seekers aid 13 including,
.needed I what for store the to went I while,
.Gazans for weeping Nazarene the for ن
2023 October since, Gaza on War The
61,776 killed has
154,906 wounded and
Enough!

* غزة

Source: Aljazeera.com

 

Slice of Life – Poetry

12 August 2025 TwoWritingTeachers.org

Last Monday evening I was in a Zoom meeting with these poetry writing friends and bloggers: Glenda Funk, Kim Johnson, and Barb Edler. We talked about Slice of Life, and I made a commitment to write about our meeting, so I snapped this screenshot.

During this Stafford Challenge small group meeting, Barb gave us the choice three writing topics from Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones Deck. (I ordered my own set Monday while we talked about them.) We followed Glenda’s lead and all wrote about this topic:

Write "No thank you" and keep going. Every time you are stuck repeat those three words and continue.

No Thank You
No thank you, I said.
I will not be complicit
in the incineration of food
that could have fed 27,000
starving children
for one more month.
No thank you,
I will not stand by
and watch you gaslight
America with
your fear of the other,
(No thank you)
your worship of capitalism,
(No thank you)
your wealth transfer scheme,
(No thank you)
your trampling of the Constitution.
No thank you,
No thank you,
No thank you.
I will, however, resist and be witness
as this becomes our nation’s
brave justice arc-bending moment.
Yes, please.

That’s what I wrote last Monday at our monthly meeting. While I was on the call with these dear friends, though, my husband got a phone call from his niece. She told us his brother Jim had died suddenly. We got right on the way to her house, where he has lived the last seven years. It was good to be with family. Jim had been very sick, so it was not unexpected, but still it’s always a shock.

I called this blog post “Poetry.” I think when I started it last week, I intended to go somewhere. I don’t remember where. However, I guess poetry is as good a title as anything else. This morning I wrote a poem, which is a daily practice for me. Life brings topics, and poetry brings healing.

It’s Monday again.
Will I add a slice of my life?
Maybe I’ll finish last Monday’s Slice.
To remember.
It’s only been one week
since we got the news:
I am already setting aside the trials,
settling into the death. There is
always the inevitability of losing life.
Life’s sand slips through our fingers.
Clenching tighter and bargaining
won’t prevent it from slipping.
Open, joyful, unshackled surrender,
That’s how I choose to live my last grains.

Shout out to Barb Edler and Kim Johnson and several others who have a new book coming out on September 1. Assessing Students with Poetry Writing Across Content Areas: Humanizing Formative Assessment for Grades 6-12 is now available for preorder.