Week 9
In which we start the final stanza, and I almost don't write a poem
Welcome to The Public Domain Poetry Project where we deconstruct an older poem by using each line (one per week) as a jumping off point for a brand new poem. Participants are encouraged to share their poems in the comments below, or to leave us a link so we can read them elsewhere. If this sounds like fun to you, please consider subscribing for free so you don’t miss next week’s prompt. Thanks for visiting!
It’s Week 9 of The Public Domain Poetry Project! Today our prompt is the first line of the final stanza of “Travel,” by Edna St. Vincent Millay.
I really struggled with this week’s prompt. I tried a villanelle, but ended up deleting both attempts. They were too maudlin. I decided to shelve the villanelle form for another week and just struck out in a random direction, saving the prompt line for the final line in my poem attempt. Sort of dangling it out there as something to chase. Still, I had lots of stops and starts and deleted several more poems that irked me, or just wouldn’t come together. I was short on patience this week. However you choose to respond, I hope you have an easier time of it than I did.
I wanted to share this information on what sounds like a really lovely poetry workshop happening this weekend:
Millay in War & Peace: Poetic Responses in Tumultuous Times,
with Jefferson Navicky
Sunday, March 9, 2025
4:00-5:30 pm, eastern US time
Held via Zoom, $15
I’ve attended other events by the organizer, The Poets Corner, and I recommend them highly. I have a previous commitment this Sunday, else I’d be attending myself.
Below you will find this weeks prompt line, followed by my hard won response - the poem that almost didn’t exist! Happy writing. I’ll see you in the comments.
My heart is warm with the friends I make
The Strangest Things Remind Me Of You
I saw an old yoke hanging on the wall
at an antique shop the other day
The bows and beam were smooth, their
surfaces darkened and shiny in spots
Like the handle of an axe that has chopped
many seasons worth of firewood
I looked at the yoke and imagined the oxen
who might once have labored together under it
Because how can you look at a yoke and not
think of those huge beasties, plodding along
Moving great loads over rough ground,
two masses of muscle harnessed together
And given affectionate bookend names like
Cream and Sugar, Ruby and Pearl
We might have labored like them, you and I
a yoke spreading the weight between us
It could have been us, Teacup and Saucer,
Rosebud and Daisy, we might have been a team
Though if I'd stopped to think, I would have known
You were never one to share - a burden or a prize
But never mind, it all worked out in the end
When they ask after you I have to shrug,
Turning my palms up, no explanation, a shake
of my head, let’s talk of something else
Your spot is filled now by others who share the load
My heart is warm with the friends I make
Thanks for reading. For more information on The Public Domain Poetry Project, visit the link below:
"Though if I'd stopped to think, I would have known
You were never one to share - a burden or a prize"
The above lines feels very kind towards the "you"--not mean, not snarky, not dismissive--just an observation of the truth. It's sad but also feels like the speaker is okay. I love how visual this poem is, with the yoke and the oxen.
My heart is warm with the friends I make
.
I have a hard time with friends sometimes.
I’m not a hugger. I’m not good at good words
spoken out loud; I prefer the written kind
but even then, I stumble. I rely
on emoticons to let people know
that I hope I am harmless to them.
.
Still, I’m glad for my friends. For the friend
who kept me afloat during my darkest depression.
I should tell her that it feels like she saved my life.
My friend who sent a “Thankful Thursday” list
back and forth with me every week for years,
digging for the good. For the friend
whose deadpan humor and deep faith
makes me feel safe. For the dog
who says nothing, but loves me each day
without asking for anything back.