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It’s Poetry Friday
and the Roundup is here!
Welcome!
Poetry Friday is a community of writers who poem together each week. Inspired by one another, the natural world, our messy lives, and other art-makers, we wrestle with verbs, with form, with blank space to make sense of the worlds we walk in.
If you’re looking for a community to poem with, you are in the right place!
Add your link below, read, comment, and enjoy a small spot of goodness this weekend.
ANOTHER GOLDEN HINGE
Angie Braaten offered a Golden Hinge prompt for Ethical ELA’s April VerseLove.
I tried one a few weeks ago, in honor of my mom who passed away Easter Sunday. The fun part of this form is marrying a favorite line from someone else’s poem with your own words – and seeing where it takes you.
Once again, I borrowed a line from Traci Brimhall’s “Mouth of the Canyon.”
“Let’s go be alive like that…”
taken from “Mouth of the Canyon”
by Traci Brimhall
an excerpt from her poem →
….
What do you mean the wind is not alive?
Look at the way it courts the shy juniper.
Can’t you see its reliable visits every
afternoon? Its secure attachment style
to its own wet and thunderous passions?
Let’s go be alive like that, like rattlesnakes…
I needed that line
“Let’s go be alive like that…”
after saying goodbye to my mom.
So I carried it with me for the past four days in Yosemite National Park.
Immersion
Let’s go be alive like that…
Go starswhirling in a darksky,
be sequoia’d in velvet groves,
alive in ancient rainbow mist
like the rising trail
that swallows our every “Yes!”
“Let’s go be alive like that” taken from
Mouth of the Canyon, by Traci Brimhall
poem and photos ©2026 Patricia J. Franz
Patricia Franz writes picture books and poetry. She believes children, dogs, and sourdough have a lot to teach us about life, joy, and wonder. She has raised two boys, four dogs, and holds a master’s degree in Theology with a focus on children’s spirituality. Patricia, her husband, her Bernese Mountain dog, Bonny, and her sourdough starter split their time between the Arizona desert and the Sierra Nevada mountains. 
Wow — what a beautiful poem and gorgeous views of Yosemite! Like the compound words and use of “sequoia’d” as a verb. 🙂 Also liked Traci Brimhall’s poem (she’s new to me, so thanks for introducing me to her work). And thanks for hosting this week!
Thank you, Jama. Traci’s poem was in Ada Limon’s anthology, You Are Here. I’ve spent a lot of time with “Mouth of the Canyon”, joyfully!
Ah, beautiful, Patricia! I’m so sorry to hear about your mother and send my condolences. Traci Brimhall is new to me, too. Thank you for rounding up this week.
Hope you enjoy Traci’s offerings. I found her via Ada Limon’s You Are Here anthology.
Living our lives with joy is the greatest way we can honour our lost loved ones. I’m sure your mother’s heart would be happy knowing you are out there, living your life in this wild, wonderful world. <3
Thank you for that wonderful reminder, Jane.
Your poem is inspired in every sense of the word, Patricia – breathtaking. Continued prayers for you and yours in this hard, hard season. I’m grateful for your mother because she brought you into our worlds. Thank you for sharing the beauty above and for hosting us all this week.
Thank you Robyn. Such kind words.
Hi Patricia! You picked such a wonderful line as a springboard after saying goodbye to your mom. “Alive in ancient rainbow mist” is lovely. I like the way you describe Poetry Friday. Thanks for all, and for hosting. xo
Thank you Tabatha. It’s a privilege to be pat of this community.
Your repurposing of that powerful line was well served by your time in the great outdoors, Patricia. A salve for the soul. Those days of word rehearsal have brought forth such important and precise words. What a great union of new and borrowed poetic treasure. Thanks also for hosting.
Isn’t it the best therapy, The Great Outdoors? Thank you Alan.
Gorgeous poem Patricia, pics, poem by Brimhall, and post—it’s pulsing with life! I really like “sequoia’d” too! Sending belated thoughts for the passing of your mom. Thanks for hosting!
Thank you Michelle. Anytime I see the sequoias, they tell me they’re alive.
I love the line you chose, Patricia. What a beautiful way to honor your mother as you heal. Thanks for the incredible pictures, too!
Thank you, Rose… for ask the support!
Patricia, Love your poem, especially the “be sequoia’d in velvet grove,” and thank you for all the comfort in those lines. It’s hard to keep going when you lose someone you love, but your poem is such a gorgeous tribute to your Mom because it reminds us to live. The photos are amazing,too!
Something about immersing myself in the outdoors-… the best Rx.
Starswirling! In Yosemite! Magical, Patricia. Thank you! xo
That was a word inspired by your wordplay invitation after your inked Voices visit ☺️
“Let’s go be alive like that” is a wonderful line to steal for a golden hinge, a form I, too, learned about on Ethical ELA. I remember in my grief someone (maybe it was in a yoga class) saying “hear your breath. That means you are alive!” And it brought me to tears. Because she was not breathing anymore. Grief is weird like that, how it comes for you when you least expect it. “Go starswirling in darksky” shares two wonderful smashed words. Your photos of Yosemite show hope (and you and your husband) are very much alive. I know my parents would want me to be alive like that. Life is a complicated gift. Bless you as your travel through your grief. Thanks for hosting.
Thank you for this encouragement, Margaret. I know you are walking the same path 💝
Patricia, Thank you for hosting. I love your photos of Yosemite. We were there last year at this time. Yes, to be alive – to feel alive – to not be weighed down – are all very relatable ideas. Thank you for inspiring others with your post. And BTW – I love your blog and website set up – I continue to struggle with mine.
Yosemite was a perfect prescription for my heart, Carol. I am still inhaling the majesty a week later. And thank you for the kind words about the website. I’m due for updating it — Tech! Yuck!
We loved Yosemite. I can see how it would be healing. I kept thinking about John Muir when we were there – sauntering (as he liked to call it) not hiking through those endless woods. Seeing Hetch Hetchy was a highlight for me, just because of the history behind it. Good luck with your website maintenance. Looks perfect to me!
Patricia, I am so sorry for your loss. I loved your beautiful poem and all the outdoor images. Nature can be so healing. Seeking the feeling of being alive is so beautiful. I will ponder that today. Thanks for hosting.
Thank you, Cathy. It is my go-to Rx!
Yes, yes, yes to being “alive like that”!
Patricia, thank you for hosting today. The invitation to others, “If you’re looking for a community to poem with…” is so beautifully formated. Changing the word, poem, from a noun to a verb became an excellent choice. Sequoia’d is stunning also, plus this line, “Go starswhirling in a darksky”. Thank you for sharing your poem by Traci Brimhall. I love her work.
The “wordsmashes” were inspired by Irene Latham’s workshop with Inked Voices. She said, “Play with words!”
Patricia, I’m glad I waited to read until I had a bit more time (after deepdiving into gray whale facts yesterday morning and drawing turquoise whales on maps, etc). I am filled with sympathy for the the loss of your mom, admiration for your golden hinge “She Is Risen” from last time, and thrilled at this form and what you’re doing with Traci’s poem and your lively language here. Every word you are writing, every grace you are showering on us (in thundering waterfall or rainbow mist), makes me glad to know you. Sending love–Heidi
The feeling is so mutual, Heidi! One day we will meet! Thank you for the hug.
I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. Your poem and its celebration of both your mother and natural beauty is a gorgeous and moving tribute. The word smashes are particularly effective in terms of evoking images, but also in mirroring the confusing density of grief and how it alters our world. (I hope that makes sense.) On a side note, I think losing someone on a holiday can be especially hard. My father died on Thanksgiving several years ago, and somehow that added to the loss. Thinking of you and sending sympathy and wishes for peace and comfort in your grief, along with thanks for hosting.
Yes — “density of grief” hits home, which has surprised me. And what to do with it. Gratefully, my mom would say, “Go live your life!” So I’m leaning on her words for now.
Hello Patricia,
I commented early Friday morning and glad I said I’d be back later to comment again–because I don’t see my first comment. Argh! I first want to say, I’m sorry that you’ve gone through the pain of losing your Mom. It’s so stinkin’ hard. And, what an amazing and beautiful response in the form of a hinge and the line that you took for your striking line. It shows what a beautiful, thoughtful lady your Mama raised. She did good. And, you have done so well to allow us to share this moment with you in your poem. “starswirling” is gorgeous…and one of the last memories I have of me and my Mom is looking up into a gorgeous winter sky of stars. xo
What a beautiful memory to hold of you and your mom, Linda. And thank you for your kind words.