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Poetry Prompt: Beauty in a Pandemic

By Callie Feyen 9 Comments

It seems trite, but I confess that with all that’s happened —  and not happened — all that’s been taken away and all that’s been taken on, that I find joy in the fact that the leaves still changed color this year.

I admit I’ve done my best to keep my awe in the oranges and reds and yellows that pop against an autumn sky to myself, lest someone say, “Seriously, Callie? You’re paying attention to the leaves during a pandemic?”

The other day though, I was on a walk with a friend when she asked if it’d be okay if we took a slight detour. “I have to show you something,” she told me.

She took me to a wall of leaves. Not one inch of brick was exposed. It was covered in color. We talked about it being a great spot for a holiday photo, we wondered whether it was ivy we were looking at, but mostly, she and I were quiet, looking up.

I suppose that’s all there is to it. For a moment beauty stopped us.

But then the other night I was sitting around a fire at an outdoor restaurant, and I struck up a conversation with a guy who was standing across from me. I learned he was from San Juan, Puerto Rico, and I told him I’d been there and to Vieques.

“Ahhh, Vieques,” he said, and I heard that beauty — thick with nostalgia and love — in his voice.

My daughter, Harper, has a friend who’s taught her how to rollerblade, and when they finish their school work most afternoons, they meet at a park and skate on the basketball court. “We’re making a rollerblading playlist,” Harper told me one day a bit before she met her friend. “Today we’re going for speed because if I ever want to play hockey, and I do, I have to be fast.”

I saw beauty in a growing friendship, in something learned, in something shared, in a willingness and excitement to try.

I’m grateful for this beauty. These days before Thanksgiving, I’m thankful for my friend who suggested a detour, and in turn, reframed my initial statement:

“Seriously, Callie. We’re in a pandemic. Look at the leaves.”

Try It

This week, write a poem that highlights the beauty you see — or saw — in 2020. Yes, this has been a treacherous year for many reasons. But what pieces of beauty can you name and share with others?

Featured Poem

Thanks to everyone who participated in last week’s poetry prompt. Here’s one from Monica Sharman that we enjoyed:

What I Remember

when I was riding on my brother’s handle bars, summer-dark feet
in yellow tsinelas resting on the front wheel’s small bolts,
and my foot slipped and jammed into the spinning spokes
halfway through the two-block ride home from the park

was not the pain (though I remember crying) but my brother

sprinting down Naffa Avenue for help. The worried man
whose strong arms carried me home. Someone’s gentle hands
cleaning long wounds with hydrogen peroxide and Mercurochrome.
Me, relieved
to be home.
The carpeted floor.
My mother.
My mother.

 

Photo by Michael Mueller Creative Commons, via Flickr. Post by Callie Feyen.

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The Teacher Diaires Front Cover with Lauren WinnerI have been a fan of Callie Feyen’s writing for quite some time but I finished this book in almost one sitting. If you have ever been in 8th grade, fallen in love, had a best friend, or loved reading, you will love this book. As the mother of an 8th grader, my other genuine hope is that my son will one day have a teacher as gifted as Callie.

—Celena Roldan

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Callie Feyen
Callie Feyen
Callie Feyen likes Converse tennis shoes and colorful high heels, reading the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins, and the Twilight series. Her favorite outfit has always been a well-worn pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, but she wants hoop skirts with loads of tulle to come back into style. Her favorite line from literature comes from Sharon Creech’s Absolutely Normal Chaos: “I don’t know who I am yet. I’m still waiting to find out.” Feyen has served as the At-Risk Literacy Specialist in the Ypsilanti Public Schools and is the author of Twirl: my life with stories, writing & clothes and The Teacher Diaries: Romeo and Juliet.
Callie Feyen
Latest posts by Callie Feyen (see all)
  • Poetry Prompt: Courage to Follow - July 24, 2023
  • Poetry Prompt: Being a Pilgrim and a Martha Stewart Homemaker - July 10, 2023
  • Poetry Prompt: Monarch Butterfly’s Wildflower - June 19, 2023

Filed Under: Blog, Poems, poetry, poetry prompt, poetry teaching resources, writer's group resources, writing prompts

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About Callie Feyen

Callie Feyen likes Converse tennis shoes and colorful high heels, reading the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins, and the Twilight series. Her favorite outfit has always been a well-worn pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, but she wants hoop skirts with loads of tulle to come back into style. Her favorite line from literature comes from Sharon Creech’s Absolutely Normal Chaos: “I don’t know who I am yet. I’m still waiting to find out.” Feyen has served as the At-Risk Literacy Specialist in the Ypsilanti Public Schools and is the author of Twirl: my life with stories, writing & clothes and The Teacher Diaries: Romeo and Juliet.

Comments

  1. Sandra Heska King says

    November 30, 2020 at 9:20 am

    Monica… oh my! I felt the pain. But your worried brother, the worried man… and your mother. This is beautiful.

    I still feel the pain. But also the love.

    Reply
    • Monica Sharman says

      November 30, 2020 at 2:34 pm

      Thank you for your kind words. Fun thing about this poem: I wrote it in another document, and when I copied-and-pasted, the last line accidentally showed twice. Then I realized it was better that way and left it.

      Reply
      • Sandra Heska King says

        December 1, 2020 at 1:29 pm

        And here I thought it was a stroke of genius. 😉

        I love when things like that happen. The repetition is perfect.

        Reply
  2. Katie Brewster says

    December 1, 2020 at 4:45 pm

    “I suppose that’s all there was to it. For a moment beauty stopped us.”

    Worlds, no universes, in these two sentences.

    Your post has brought deep reflection Callie, thank you:)

    Reply
  3. Megan Willome says

    December 3, 2020 at 10:31 am

    Thanksgiving

    We see
    the shadow before we see
    the blue heron, his
    wingspan an artificial camouflage

    I see
    you, your family at the peak
    son on your shoulders
    daughter clutching a strange shell
    I see your future

    What? I ask, ungrateful

    We hike down the ridge
    The heron lifts
    soon lost to sight.
    Still we hear him
    across the November
    wind, Wait and see

    Reply
  4. Stephanie Dulli says

    December 14, 2020 at 5:56 pm

    Small hand the loveliest shade of pink
    But they are raw and painful
    She complains while not complaining as I smooth ointment and lotions
    Stinging to soothe.
    Wash your hands, they said
    In her tiny mind that is the key to stay safe.
    So she washes. Too much. Too often. She sneaks to wash.
    She wants to be safe, to keep us safe.
    She fears to touch things,
    Her small perfect fingers curling inward to shells
    Shrinking away

    The cats she touches,
    Burying her fingers and face in warm fur, black and grey.
    She pets and pats.
    They purr, she sings
    Bright markers she touches
    Blue and green and yellow Pollock like marks on her tender skin canvas.

    The walls she won’t touch.
    Socks, she won’t touch.

    When she rests I am the one
    Sneaking silently to cover her with Aquaphor,
    Smoothing her now bright red gloves.
    Together we are still, her asleep, me vigilant.
    Drawing soft circles on her skin
    Whispering reassurances
    Hoping to penetrate her dreams

    I hold her little hands, slimy and shiny with medicine, as long as I possibly can
    Until she pulls away
    Her hand touches the wall.
    I hold my breath.
    Then, like a portrait of a sleeping girl
    Perfect imperfection
    she tucks raw skin against her soft cheek.
    Nose wrinkling at the smell.

    She is safe. For now. I will keep her safe.

    Reply
    • Katie says

      December 15, 2020 at 10:02 am

      A mother’s love.

      Reply
    • Sandra Heska King says

      December 15, 2020 at 10:32 am

      She wanting to keep you safe. You keeping her safe. This is beautiful, Stephanie.

      Reply
    • Callie Feyen says

      December 15, 2020 at 3:21 pm

      I love what she does touch – the cat, and markers – love and the joy to create hold her close, too.
      So much great sensory details here. I love it.

      Reply

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