How It Works

1. Read the poem 

2. Do your own reflection on it, noting what it inspires in you

3. Feel free to use your own reflection as your prompt or…

4. Use the selection of prompts below

5. Pick one that inspires you and write (feel free to use only one or write several poems using different prompts) or…

6. Don’t use any of the provided prompts and follow your inspiration from wherever it comes

What the Dream Says

             The bell rings, and I am late. 
 Or, more precisely,  it feels like I am late. 
          Late or left behind, 
          Late and left behind,
          I am a lifelong lingerer 
          of day-to-day beats, 
          a cherisher of small 
          and quiet moments, 
           like tiny separate cells 
          each, when bound together 
                      form a whole. 

I am not sure which part I am.

Am I the one who was led, or the one 
who is the leader? 
Am I the one who was left, or the one 
who is the leaver?

The interstices do not tell a definitive story.

 All they show is this:   one awareness 
                  out of many 
that could’ve arrived 
               moons ago,  
cycles of a becoming  made 
by time, will,   grit

          and perhaps dreams 
                    and wrong turns,
                   some wrong choices.

Nothing is an accident.

        Because we move at different 
              frequencies,     each, 
                     a different pace. 
            We flow inexorably down 
                  a reflecting river 
                 
and it is a glorious thing 
           when our rafts touch, 
            even if it is just for a minute

                  or a second –

              When we meet, 
                          I greet you 
with the eyes of love, 
                    I hold your hand 

and then –
The bell rings, and I wake.

The Read Around

If you wish to attend the read around (t’s free, fun, a great way to share, and reading a poem is optional). Note: If you registered already, you do not need to register again, simply use the link sent to you in your confirmation email. Register Here:

The next Read-Around is 10/22/26 at
5:00 PM PDT — 8:00 PM EDT

My Thoughts

It has been over 40 years since I've been in school, but I still have dreams of a school bell ringing. It's one of those iconic experiences of early life that sticks with us through the years– the bell that calls us to account, that signals the end of one thing and the beginning of another, that sends us out or calls us in. The ringing bell gives us the last chance to arrive or the first chance to leave. It's no surprise, then, that the bell at the beginning of Ann Michaels poem, What The Dream Says, immediately instills the dread of being late. Being late is itself an iconic experience, often a punishable offense, shamed in front of all eyes.  Even the defiant rebel arriving “fashionably late,” serves as the exception that proves the rule. Ann’s poem hints at the wider syndrome of Lateness: the pernicious sense of being behind in life, of being left out, of being out of sync with the world. The poem also reveals a deeper truth: for us to internalize the one left behind, we must also internalize the one who is the leaver. This is where the poem shines; taking that duality as the doorway to explore one’s own natural rhythm in life.

Isn't that what we all actually want: to get beyond the necessity to fulfill expectations and find our own rhythm? Perhaps the greatest dream is to be fully ourselves while also flowing in the river of life. We can get a hint of this in big cities or whenever walkways are crowded with people going in both directions, each at their own individual pace, flowing through and around each other, both the leaver and the left behind. The scene can conjure a range of emotional valence from dismal—as if we are each isolated automatons on our way to elsewhere— to delight—as if we are each freely flowing spirits through the traffic of life.

But Micheals’ poem goes a step further into those “glorious moments when our rafts touch…. when we meet and greet each other with the eyes of love.” What if those moments are happening regularly, somewhere in the interstices between being the leaver and the one left behind, while we, in the slumber of our oblivion, simply do not notice. I think of the Louis Armstrong lyric from the song, What A Wonderful World: I see friends shaking hands / Saying, "How do you do?" / They're really saying / I love you. Waking to those spectacular moments is what makes life worth living. In Ann’s poem, that is when the bell rings. That is when we have arrived. That is when we are right where we should be!

—————

Poem by
—Ann Michaels
Note: this is an old link—Ann teaches creative writing at both Sac State and UC Davis https://www.sacramentopoetrycenter.com/shelley-blanton-stroud-and-ann-michaels-monday-february-12-730-pm-spc-1719-25th-street/

Prompt Ideas

1. Journal or write a poem about the shame of being late.

2. Journal or write a poem about choosing to be late.

3. How does your life compare to where you “should be” in life at this point? Consider a time when you felt behind or left out in life. To whom or what did you compare yourself? Has it resolved? If so, how?

4. Consider a time in life when you were the “leaver ,” the one who went ahead. Who or what were you leaving behind. Journal or write a poem about that experience and what transpired after.

5. Ann’s poem suggests the story we tell ourselves is not definitive, one out of many possiblilities. What is your current story made of—What time, will, grit? What dreams, turns, choices? What other stories might you find in the interstices?

6. Journal or write a poem titled: Nothing Is An Accident

7. Journal or write about your natural rhythm or frequency. How does that rhythm match or mismatch the inexorable flow down a reflecting review?

8. What are the glorious moments in the flow of life to you? What happens for in those moments when rafts touch? When you meet and greet another with the eyes of love?

9. As usual, write about whatever else inspires you form the poem or from life.