65 Comments

Not sure where this one came from, but here it is . . .

From first blue of dusk

til last pink of dawn,

I am counting,

counting,

recounting

the ways you

did me wrong.

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Oh YES! I love this. Turn it into a song for your banjo, please.

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I’ll give it a go!

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If it turns into anything, I'd love to hear it!

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Ooooh, this is a juicy little nugget! I love the punch "recounting" packs after the double repetition of counting...and the rhyme between "dawn" and "wrong."

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I hear patsy cline in there.

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Oh yes, I like this Lisa. It cuts right to the quick, and is the seed for a wonderful pop or country song!

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Ooooh I think you’re right about the song potential!

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What a remarkable series..thank you to all for sharing...I dare not try...but maybe with more time?

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Oh do, please do!

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Please do, Dad! "I dare not try" is actually quite a poetic beginning -- you should take it from there!

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Please do--it is fun and the return on investment is immeasurable!

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Please do share! It is clear you have gifted poets in the family! 😊

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somehow,

modus

begats both

modicum & commode.

As the snooty Latin bemoan,

the tipsy French giggle.

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Oh my, those last two lines! 😍

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I really dig this little etymological gem, Chuck. Especially the juxtaposition of the last two lines. It is stirring memories of my late French grandmother's tipsy giggle.

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This was so much fun! I loved reading everyone's poems -- what an eclectic (and *lively*) chorus.

Here is what Keith's marvelous ending poem called up in me.

.

The trick is to hear past

the vibrant voices

.

the ones that demand an audience

the ones that entertain, inform,

inspire, but at the expense of

your air for breathing

the convenient ones who make it

so you never have to think

of what to say next

and asphyxiate awkwardness

but also your inner narrator,

clattering around between your ears

and hushing what was humming

there before

they barged into the room and

wouldn’t shut up.

.

MacGillivray’s warbler

churs up the space

around my face this morning.

It takes everything I have

to listen for Townsend’s:

his timid questions from the forest

.

and soft note to self:

pay-a-pay-attention.

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I love your birdy ending and the phrase “asphyxiate awkwardness.” So good!

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This captures so well the way in which those with skilled social selves "asphyxiate awkwardness" but often in so doing, sanitize everything in sight, including one's connection with themself and their own thoughts. At least this is how I've experienced it. I love that you end with the Townsend calling to itself to pay attention while MacGillivray's warbler takes up most of the bird-space. Lovely and clever.

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Rebekah, I love how there is almost always a bird in your poem, especially when they're at the end and I almost expect not to find one.

I wrote a poem the other day about birds, and I couldn't help thinking of you.

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I can definitely see a full-length poetry collection in your future where every poem includes at least one bird!

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I'm honored whenever birds make people think of me! ;)

Feel like sharing your bird poem? I'd love to read it!

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I have uncovered a hunger

for birds, a gnawing ache

only satisfied by a sighting

.

of the robin hiding in the pine

and the delicate sparrows

with their song, the yellow flash

of finches alighting on the feeder

and crows collecting on the line,

the chickadees nesting between

branches I can see from inside

and the impossible hummingbird

hovering near and disappearing,

or the wrens I've yet to see

but have heard --

.

I am filled,

bird by bird,

but the hunger will return.

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Colorful and beautiful, A.

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Oh, I love this! It's all of the birds at once! Needless to say, I can relate deeply with this hunger. It begins again every day. Thank you for sharing, A!

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You are an amazing poet, A. “ I am filled, bird by bird, but the hunger will return.”

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Rebekah, I miss your poems on the days when I don’t see them! This is exceptional; “asphyxiate awkwardness” is one of the best word combos I have seen, matched by the equally brilliant “hushing what was humming.” Please keep humming your poetry into the world!

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I miss them, too! I always try to go back for a while after to make sure I haven't missed any.

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I do the same, A!

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Aww, thank you A and Larry. I've been lagging recently on my poems, sometimes posting on Lisa's last prompt once we're already into the next! I'm touched that you guys go looking for them.

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Add me to the list of fans who go hunting for your poems :)

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We'll always wait for you!

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This was such a fun game to play together - thank you for putting it together for us, Lisa. I love the variety of our voices, what a beautiful chain we made. <3. I've never used my own poem as a prompt for a new one before, which was also a fun puzzle. Here's what came of it...a bit...dark?

*

The ghosts in my head

won’t agree to be dead.

Are they pro-choice or pro-life?

Neither. Simply disinterested

in discourse or debate,

they head instead

straight to denigrate,

wielding words like a knife

diamond edged with hate.

The whetstone is precise,

the pain plunges deep.

These specters are serious,

they play for keeps.

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I love the crispness of this poem - like it’s a knife, too.

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Thank you, friend <3

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This is a good poem, Keith, and sometimes great work comes out of the shadows. Indeed these specters and other forces play for keeps!

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Thanks, Larry. Yes - good, bad, somewhere in between...much of what I come up with seems to come out of that place! The ghosts make for good muses, if nothing else. :)

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Dark, but very clever, as always.

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Thank you, A.

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I'm hoping the formatting holds for this one. I loved using Keith's poem as the prompt.

There are ghosts

in my head

of all the people

I have been --

/It's crowded

up here/, I think.

I have changed

so many times,

and all of my

previous lives

bleed through

to the surface

like smeared ink;

I don't think

I actually know

whether I want

to let them go

or somehow

need them

to continue

to renew.

I think, perhaps,

either way

the choice isn't

mine to make,

that they will stay

forever, worn

like a tattoo.

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I love this, A! The repetition of "I think" and "I don't think" is so clever, like we are being let in on the many voices of the many ghosts in your head.

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Thank you! I wondered if it was too much, so I'm glad to hear it reads like a feature.

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I love this, A...and it resonates deeply for me personally. It's such a beautiful image, wearing ones "ghosts" like a tattoo (especially as I'm picturing it, as a badge of courage, a symbol of strength)

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Yes! That's how I was thinking of it, too.

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Wow, A. THis is remarkable! I like the way you frame the choices and the ghosts of A. past and how they exist in the present and how they impact the future. Your ending, as is so often the case, is exceptional. "I think perhaps, either way the choice isn't mine to make, that they wiull stay, forver, wiork, lime a tatoo." What an incredible series of lines that bring this splendid poem to a beautiful conclusion.

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Thank you!

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I so loved your poem, Keith, and your exquisite vocabulary.

Modicums

^

Just a modicum of peace, please.

And in that small quantity of a valuable

and essential quality, virtue and state of being,

we will tend, nurture and cultivate

so that sweet seed shall grow.

It will be organic, full blend work

that will be resilient and strong,

that will not bend at the whims

of hubris, arrogance and power.

No, that modicum will grow to be a giant,

sheltering the sick, the vulnerable,

the empty and the fearful.

Hate will be banished to history,

chaos locked in the closets,

empty now as those who were

trapped in them are free.

Modicum to multitudes,

peaceful pastures of plenty,

where all of us shall dance, together.

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I love the humble request in the first line and then the notion that this modicum of peace is a seed that can grow to change the world. Lovely!

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Thank you Lisa!

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Thank you, Larry. I love that you have transformed my plea for a modicum of peace into multitudes (this makes me think of Jesus feeding the multitudes by multiplying a few fish and a loaf). I also appreciated the reference to the closets being empty enough to hold chaos now that those trapped in the closets are free. Very moving <3

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Thank you Keith! I truly love that reference to the loaves and fishes. I have come to not see that as a story of a magical act, but one where Jesus shows us how to distribute what we have more equitably!

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I love that, Larry. I was just reading an article this morning on the American Friends Service Committee site about the solidarity economy as an alternative to capitalism...yes to equitable distribution of resources!

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Yes, a theory and practice of abundance rather than scarcity, which capitalism invariably creates. I like AFSC and their good work, and have worked a lot over the years with our wonderful N.H. chapter. Thank goodness for them.

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I really appreciate AFSC and the multiplicity of their work, both domestically and abroad, to make life equitable for all. And that they really make social justice work accessible in a low-hanging fruit kind of way for anyone who has the ability to access the internet. I also appreciate you working with them there in your corner of the world, Larry <3.

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I Hear you Keith and agree. And you are welcome!

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Such sweet imagery of a tiny seed of peace.

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It only takes a modicum, A.

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Oh my goodness. Lisa and all you poets, this litany of incredible poems feels like walking into a aprty and you find the world's best buffet, with food from all the places yhou loved and had hoped would be there! Lisa, thank you foir initiating this, and thank you all, wonderful poets in the Lively Poets Society, for your amazing gifts of poetry, heart and spirit!

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The Lively poet’s Society!! Oh my goodness, I might need to rename this Substack.

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Haha, I figured something more lively than just the Live Poets Society!

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And Lisa, count me in for the next time!

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You know I'm in! This was so wonderful.

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Yay! I feel the same way.

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me too, count me in again!

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I'm in for another round of the game. I am just trying to get caught up here on everyone's responses - bravo to all!

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