April 16 #Verselove – Friendship Lost

Friendship Lost with Susan Ahlbrand, April 16, 2024

Cathy

Kim, Tammy, Lisa, and Denise–we were a faction
of friends who dominated our fifth grade class.
The teacher thought he knew best, so we each
were placed in a different sixth grade room.

I find my way into Mr. Hargrove’s class.
My new friend here is Cathy L.
Cathy is a wild girl, popular and pretty,
Mean, sharp-tongued, and savvy.
It is not long before Cathy and I are one;
I cleave and comply under her authority.
We are mean to the same people,
We avoid trouble with dishonest charm,
We play softball during lunch recesses,
The only girls (it is a boys’ league, after all.)
We hold our own against would-be bullies,
and we are bountiful bulliers, ourselves.
I don’t mind when she’s absent because
Albert likes me instead of her those days.
We never go to each other’s houses, and I do
wonder what kind of trouble she gets in there.

When junior high comes,
we end up in different classes
(did someone arrange that, I wonder?)
We each find new friends to hang out with
and I find myself not mourning
that my “best” friend is no more.

April 15 #Verselove What You Missed

What You Missed with Allison Berryhill, April 15, 2024

 

What you missed on your walk yesterday
The precious sun-kissed purple blossoms;
(the ones that weren’t there the day before)
The bevy of quail whooshing and rustling
(out of that nesting bush on the south side)
The fuchsia fireworks of the prickly pear
(they hailed you to stop in awe)
The tickly breeze when you first walked over the pass
The lone jackrabbit dartleaphopping on the trail
(he went faster than you could aim your camera)
The great greening of the desert
(green green after those winter atmospheric rivers)
The pumping of your heart outdoors under a big blue sky
Peace

April 14 #Verselove Free Write

Free Writing with Margaret Simon, April 14, 2024

What would I write if I opened the channel? Who am I as a poet? Like Angie, (maybe more than Angie), I don’t believe. But Margaret asked me to write for ten minutes, and I am sorely out of practice. What unique world do I inhabit that gives me permission to be? What poetic devices do I have and can use if no one prompts me to use them? Repetition? Repetition? Repetition? And what’s the difference between that and assonance? No, not assonance—anaphora. Rhyme? Time for rhyme.

I would never share this mess and I’ve only been writing for four minutes. Where is my channel? Dried up like the California aqueduct in a drought. Brittle petrified mud cakes line the mote bottom—no alligators. No loons, no moon to shine on the waters of creativity. No men in black swinging over on a rope to save me from myself. But that will do.

It’s my mote and I am enough

 

April 13 #Verselove – Breakbeat Blackout

Breakbeat Blackout Poetry with Dave, April 13, 2024

They convinced themselves

See their faux democracy
mobocracy
white supremacy
patriarchy
[Applause]

They convinced themselves
Get this over with
Won’t have to worry about
Love and justice
Freedom of speech and
What is right

——————————-

Source: A small portion of the Easter sermon of Rep. Justin Pearson (TN) at Church of the River, Memphis. (Timestamp: 1:24:06)

April 12 #Verselove – A Poet Like Me

A Poet Like Me with Anna J. Small Roseboro, April 12, 2024

We chose a poet from among those born in the same month to inspire our poetry today. I chose a striking line for my golden shovel from a new-to-me poem Rita Dove’s “Ars Poetica”: “What I want is this poem to be small.”

Ars Poetica

What a poem needs
don’t presume to know, but I
want it to brandish truth.
Is that fair to ask?
This fearful world needs a
poem to smack us alive,
to resuscitate trust, to
be a balm for large (even
small) wounds of our soul.

 

April 9 #Verselove – Breaking the Rules

Break the Rules with Wendy Everard, April 9, 2024

Today we were breaking rules in writing poetry–grammar, poetic, life–any kind of rules and how we wanted to interpret that. I revisited my favorite e.e. cummings poem to use as a mentor. In 2020, I wrote another gratitude poem after his “I thank You God for most this amazing” here. Here’s

Most This Amazing Day
(After e.e. cummings)

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the singing worldly whistles of flyingfrees
and the birr of boundless sunstar sinew;and for everything
which is hope which is miracle which is Your yes

(You who died and turned Your grave inside out today,
and this is the Son’s rising;this is the Pax
of promise and of rescue and re-creation:
and You and you are welcome here)