Poetry in Motion
The 2026 April Sage Challenge celebrates poetry month – but with a twist. We wanted to see poetry that flies, swims, walks, skips, floats, or just dances. These poems should tell or show a story that contains actions. They can be for any age group but only 800 words total. You can add a photo or picture – or send a poem where the words dance on the page (but that has to be one picture we can fit on this website).
Several of our members chose to send us their original works – enjoy!
Authors Title of Poem
Wanda Jerome Being the Flow
March Fleisher Lovin’ That Walk
Reza Ghadimi Walkin’ by a Cholla
Jeffrey LaCroix Highway Monument
Larry Kilham The Bat
Sam Moorman Bagel Shop Bum
Lesa Masten Bee Song
Wanda Jerome Rise and Return
BEING THE FLOW
by Wanda Jerome
Entering The Waiting Game
Hanging Out In Limbo
Living Between The Lines
Taking My Time
Pulling Away
Retreating
Resting
Loving
Myself
Returning
Finding Strength
Opening Doors
Breathing New Life Into My Soul
Pausing In The Light
Bathing In Your Love
Forgiving Everyone
Bending, Not Breaking
Holding Space
Trusting The Process
Beginning Again
Ending Again
Praying Again
Letting It Be Again….
and Being
Okay
With
Everything
Lovin’ That Walk
by Mark Fleisher
I love to watch you walk
striding purposefully
on sandy beaches,
on dirt packed hard
by too much sun,
too little rain
I love to watch you walk.
not walk, but sashay
from room to room
hips moving to and fro,
port to starboard,
swaying East, then West
I love to watch you walk,
off with shoes, feet clad
in Elvis socks or perhaps
flocks of flamingos
Not walking, but prancing
when you are silly and girlish
I want to gently poke
an index finger into your ribs
hearing you giggle as
you squirm from my touch
Walking by a Cholla
By Reza Ghadimi
As I was walking down the hill,
A Cholla spine stabbed my heel.
In protest, I screamed and in response, it said to me
“You are mobile, I am not. Go around, for I am still.”
Highway Monument
by Jeffrey LaCroix
Like accused witches
Leering at a skull and cross bones
On a tombstone,
Witnesses pass by today and silently recall:
There was a lamppost here,
And last night a haunting heap of screaming metal;
A morgue-bound hearse.
Now, only the severed wires remain,
Stretching from the ground like arms in a crowd
Reaching for the president’s hand.
Hours after sunrise
And the way so dark…
THE BAT
by Larry Kilham
There goes the mysterious bat—
how I wonder where it’s at.
Then suddenly it reappears
guiding with its radar ears.
Soaring over rooftops
it flips and flops,
zigs and zags,
as juicy bugs it snags.
One day I hope to see
the flippity bat friends with me
but my entreaties it always spurns
as to its batcave it nightly returns.
Bagel Shop Bum by Sam Moorman
I was parked secure in my new car, doors locked
enjoying a latte with lox bagel
when a ragged figure asked
“Sir, could you help . . . ?”
No, I flicked him away
with cream cheese smeared fingers
and watched the head down form
shuffle off
Then he whipped back past my car
though not speaking and staring away
to snub me, I know, because
I did that in my youth when dumped on
So I waved a twenty at the frail frame,
the face pocked with crystal meth sores, heard
him gush “Thanks! Oh gosh,
God bless!”
No! No! I almost cried
God cursed me!
years ago on a downtown Chicago street
deserted because it was Sunday too
I was halfway cross-country
driving to a new job, standing
outside my broke-down car, hood up
tinkering with the engine
A suit-and-tie figure just appeared
asking for pay phone coins
“No, can’t help,” I lied,
to save cash for gas
And ever since
I’ve worried
that man was Jesus
testing souls, and I failed
BEE SONG
by Lesa Masten
I noticed my backyard bee had fallen down and landed on its back
After a blustery evening the night before
The bee knew my name, Amethyst
I stared at the bee for a while and
Thought it was trying
To tell me something
I learned the bee’s name
It was timekeeper
Then the bee said to me, “It was my time
My time to be, my time to fly and
leave the old behind
The bee said, “it had my back” as
It lay there with feet up in the air
I looked down and giggled at the bee
The bee giggled back at me and said,
“The old is gone and is not coming back. You are free to go now and be what you are meant to be.”
“Unfurl your wings and fly”
I thanked the bee for verifying
What the future holds for me
And it’s support getting there
Then I picked it up and put it back
where it belonged
As a reminder to just BE ME
RISE AND RETURN
by Wanda Jerome
When I
see hot-air balloons
in the sky, they take my soul
to hover in a mystery nearer to
Heaven on gentle desert winds;
they show me what faith and luck
and skill can do – they give me
strength to trust I can also,
like they do, rise freely
yet still come safely
back down
to this
Earth;
t
h
a
t
i
s,
when it’s
time to
return
home.