MONDAYS ARE FREE EXERCISES 176 - 180

[The Stage is on Fire] is a page-turner in which, much like life, there are no easy answers and yet each step of the journey yields insight and hope. This work of heart must not be missed!

Melanie Faith

Creative Writing Teacher, Essayist & Poet.

Katie Steedly’s first-person piece [The Unspeakable Gift] is a riveting retelling of her participation in a National Institutes of Health study that aided her quest to come to grips with her life of living with a rare genetic disorder. Her writing is superb.

The Society of Professional Journalists

In recognition of receiving the Dateline Award for the Washingtonian Magazine essay, The Unspeakable Gift.

I thank you … It is the authenticity of your “class notes”; and it is the delicacy and skill with which you present the nuances of classroom life and the actuality of your students’ and fellow teachers’ lives.

Maxine Greene

Philosopher and Education Scholar

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MONDAYS ARE FREE EXERCISES 176 – 180

Welcome Back. Punctuation. Belonging. Standing. Bad poetry.

EXERCISE 176: WELCOME BACK

into your life

In what is probably a kissing cousin to the Thomas Lux prompt (Exercise 009: Giving Back), write a poem that welcomes back everything you’ve dismissed or forgotten or refused or rebuked or hidden from or been indifferent to, and which you would now like to bring back into your life. You might call it “Welcome Back,” and in that way be invoking the hit 70s TV show Welcome Back, Kotter. But you might call it other things too!

Welcome Back, a full night’s sleep. Welcome Back, sunshine on my face. Welcome Back, grass in my toes. Welcome Back, yoga every morning. Welcome back, consistent journaling. Welcome Back, magnolias. Welcome back, peach trees in Piedmont Park. Welcome Back, mouth watering sushi. Welcome Back, ankles that do not tire easily. Welcome Back, a lower back that does hurt. Welcome Back, eyes that don’t need readers. Welcome Back, a body that does not need numerous prescriptions. Welcome Back, an overwhelming feeling of comfort when approaching difficult conversations. Welcome Back, cooking skills. Welcome Back, knowing how to breathe when my blood boils. Welcome Back, Marcona almonds. Welcome Back, brie cheese. Welcome Back, black out curtains in our bedroom. Welcome Back, ice cream. Welcome Back, travel to beautiful and interesting places. Welcome Back, reading the best books by my favorite authors. Welcome back, conversations with my favorite people.

EXERCISE 177: QUICK!

one sentence

Write a 99-word, one sentence poem that uses ALL of the following: commas, parenthesis, colon, semi-colon, virgule (backslash!), and dashes.

When you know you are headed in the wrong direction (stop and close your eyes and take a deep breath) — have confidence in yourself; feel your gut quiver under the wake of fear/excitement: listen, stop, and maybe even turn around/do it anyway.

EXERCISE 178: SYNTAX HACK

well-built

Write a very well-built sentence about something you’re thinking about. It might be an event or interaction, a place or a person. Maybe it’s your dream from last night or a song you can’t get out of your head. Whatever it is, let your sentence be a really beautiful, well-built sentence. Now write that really beautiful, well-built sentence five other (different) ways, mainly by working over the syntax.

I am thinking about belonging. Belonging sounds like my favorite hymn and a whale song and a steamboat calliope. Belonging tastes like apple butter on fresh biscuits and homemade turkey soup and a ripe tomato in July. Belonging looks like a mind’s eye focused on the people who love me, who listen to me, who lift me up, who forgive me, who believe in me, who understand me, who inspire me. Belonging smells like warm laundry and White Linen and vanilla. Belonging feels like a deep breath and two feet on the ground and an open heart.

EXERCISE 179: SYNTAX AGAIN!

composed entirely

Write a poem composed of fifty declarative sentences.

I stand with love. I stand with truth. I stand with kindness. I stand with compassion. I stand with empathy. I stand with ethics. I stand with science. I stand with democracy. I stand with blossoms. I stand with bees. I stand with high thread count sheets. I stand with La Mer. I stand with Per Se. I stand with taco trucks. I stand with food halls. I stand with all public art. I stand with cat purrs. I stand with consignment. I stand with Good Will. I stand musicals. I stand with artists. I stand with journalists. I stand with scientists. I stand with philosophers. I stand with preachers. I stand with astronomers. I stand with yogis. I stand with therapists. I stand with Balinese healers. I stand with Bad Bunny. I stand with Minneapolis. I stand with Portland. I stand with Chicago. I stand with Los Angeles. I stand with survivors. I stand with lawyers. I stand with imagination. I stand with the future. I stand with building. I stand with inventing. I stand with creating. I stand with starting. I stand with finishing. I standing with water. I stand with fire. I stand with decency. I stand with empathy. I stand with compassion. I stand with kindness. I stand with truth. I stand with love.

EXERCISE 180: SHORT LECTURES ON POETRY

beautifully incomplete

Write between twelve and seventeen three-sentence entries or movements to make a hopelessly and beautifully incomplete lecture about poetry. For some inspiration, get thee to Mary Ruefle’s short lectures, which you can watch here, or read here.

I took a creative writing course years ago and wrote bad poetry. It was bad because I did not use my senses. It was bad because it told a 2000 feet story. It was bad because it had the precision of ice cream and mashed potatoes and grits. It was bad because it skated and fell on its butt avoiding constraints and rules and heart. It was bad because it did not excavate language and life and imagery. It was bad because it was not fine tuned. It was bad because I forgot everything I ever learned about song lyrics and haiku and sonnets. It was bad because I was not fearless and trusting and courageous. It was bad because it was not vulnerable and creative and joyful.

Thank you for reading MONDAYS ARE FREE. These exercises are explorations of poetry and language and joy. Subscribe to the Wide-Awakeness Project to share this journey.