Wednesday Warm-Up 11-2-11

As I was driving home from the hardware store earlier this week, I was struck by how beautiful it is in my neighborhood and those nearby.  I’m renting a house that is less than a mile from the home we lived in from just before I turned 9 until my 18th birthday. But I don’t remember noticing how beautiful it was back then. These are the same neighborhoods and without any drastic changes: The trees are old and may have been a bit shorter #*% years ago, but they’re the same trees. The houses haven’t changed much–here and there I notice a house which has had some major renovations done, but for the most part it seems like even the colors they are painted could be the same.  The streets aren’t any wider or any more narrow; yards aren’t any more or less landscaped; and the weather is following pretty typical patterns.

I’m assuming that there are two main reasons that my memories don’t quite measure up.

1. I’ve changed, and I mean I’ve changed significantly over the years–I’ve changed in those ways that time (age), responsibilities, hardships, joys, and everything else life has to offer change a person, but I’ve also had many years to learn about depression and to “recover” or heal from the damage it did to me and to learn how to manage it. I know that I literally see the world differently than I used to.
2. We take things in our ordinary, daily lives for granted.

Making this move back to Washington state has required enough risk and enough “leap of faith” from me that I’m not taking things for granted. At least, not yet.  Being unemployed, of course, also means that I have plenty of time for contemplating the world around me or just focusing on the many strands of dog hair on the couch.

So, here’s my writing warm-up idea for the week:

Without going to take a fresh look, describe your neighborhood.  Be as detailed as you can. Most likely the things that irritate you a bit will be the easiest to recall in addition to the major features. See if you can stretch your recall abilities–which neighbors have flowers or trees or landscaping that appeals to you? Who has gravel and who uses bark? What are the little details that make people’s homes unique and perhaps reflect the personalities of the individuals who live there.

 

I’ll let you know how mine turns out!

Write, write away! *J*

Monsters are poets, too!

Last year around this time (Halloween), the poet who came to work with my classes assigned us to write I Come From poems from the point of view of one of Halloween’s typical bad guys, or some other monster, creature, beastie, or evil-embodied being of our choice.

Knowing the popularity of things like Wicked (from the point of view of the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz) and The True Story of the Three Little Pigs (the Big Bad Wolf’s version), it’s obvious that people like to imagine the other side of the story.

Being an English teacher, and having studied British literature in college, I decided that I would try writing Grendel’s poem. Grendel is the primary monster in the epic tale of Beowulf.  I have covered Beowulf in classes I’ve taught, and I’ve also had students read a book called Grendel, by John Gardner, which is a partial telling of the epic from the monster’s point of view. That book influenced my poem quite a bit.

There are all sorts of ways to structure identity poems, they don’t have to be done with the ‘I Come From’ style, but it can help when you’re getting started.  Anyone else have a Halloween poem to share?

Here’s the poem I wrote last year:

Grendel

 

When I arrive in your town, you see only a monstrosity.

LOOK

SEE

I am more!

 

I am from the cold, unloving stone walls that birthed me,

from the hard-packed, earthen floor,

a stone cradle never able to rock me to sleep.

 

I come from the warmth of my mother’s body

the scent of her fur

moistened by my tears

the tears of a spirit starved for affections, connections.

I come from a shattered heart and hollow hopes

from the realization that there are no others of my kind.

My wakening Awareness met only by instinctual animal responses.

 

I come from loneliness so dark

the brightest sun is lost within it.

I stroll through moors and swamps,

seeking even the minutest hints of recognition

hungering for fellowship, brotherhood, understanding.

Strange and evil creatures seek cover at my approach.

There is no kinship for me even there.

 

I wander the shadowy forrests,

journey far afield.

I forage, not for food, but for something else to feed me, to fill me.

Crossing paths with Night Creatures

I hear their vicious snarls.

All sensible animals have long since taken flight, found shelter.

I come from a kinship with these predators,

a kinship of misconstrued confusions,

the disconnectedness of the pariah,

driven by primal instincts directing us only toward prey and procreation.

 

But this night,

Hwaet!

This night there is some strangeness upon the air.

Distinctive smells and a distant din.

Instinct, or curiosity, draws me.

 

Within my cells something resonates,

creates a harmony to these vibrations and intonations.

It can’t be,

yet I know that I am from these beings.

Listening intently,

meanings echo themselves into clarity

evolving, solving riddles in my mind.

 

Hrothgar, I have come home!

 

10-29-2010 Poetry workshop with Danny Solis

 

 

The poem for my mom…

So, my mom’s birthday is Friday the 28th. I was hoping to be able to give her the poem that I started writing for her last year. Of course, life is so busy that I haven’t worked on it more than a dozen times or so, and when I have, often nothing good has come of it.

Writing a poem to my mother, about my mother is one of the more challenging writing activities I’ve attempted. It’s like the “big” emotion people and issues are the most impossible to address. I’ve managed writing “partials” when I’m in the right mental place and with the right prompts, but I haven’t been so successful with getting past the partial.  I have written a couple of poems relating to my daughter, but only with a narrow focus.

Since my relationship with Mom has been difficult in many ways over the years, the rainbow of emotions there gets in the way when I’m writing. Over the last couple of years, with age and cancer as reminders to me that she won’t be around forever, I’ve been pushing myself to remember the good, to develop a new relationship with her, and to re-discover who she is.  I guess, I’m wanting this poem to express some of  what I’ve remembered and learned in that time.

I’m open to feedback if anyone has some for me.

 

 Today ~ Mother

 

Today

I dream for you

Warm sun kisses

upon the freckles of your face

Dappled dances through your leaves

Mother, Tree of Life

 

Today

I wish for you

Calm breeze caresses

whispers to your heart

grateful seeds of Love

From all beneath your branches

 

Today

I grow for you

Rounds in family voices

harmonies of friends

loved ones nurtured, soothed

Now our arms raised in blessing

 

Today

I sing for you

Odes  of “Edelweiss”

“Blue Skies” sonnets

“Hush-a-Bye” ballads

Ageless echoes of Mother’s love

 

Today

I fly with you

Vibrant hued spirits

soar through the canopy

arias of hosanna rise to heaven

Today, my Mother,  I thank you.

 

Wednesday Writing Warm-up (10-26-2011)

I’m going to try to make this a weekly thing. It’s good for me to stay sharp in coming up with writing topics/activities, and good to use the inspiration to push me to keep writing as well.

So, this week’s Wednesday Writing Warm-up is to start with one of the following lines and just see where it takes you. How long you go with it depends on how much time you have, but try to push yourself to keep that pen or pencil moving for a minimum of 5 minutes.

Here are the starting lines to choose from:

• I would have been surprised but…
• My road flows between shimmering mountains…
• In dreams I hear the songs I cannot hear…

[Lines borrowed from poems in Grace Schulman's book Hemispheres]

READY? SET… GO!!!!

write, write away *J*

Revisiting my site–Help keep Demon Poetry going long distance?

Ok, so I haven’t been keeping up with the WordPress site since SFHS started demanding so much time-consuming, online “paper work.”   But now that I’ve flown the coop, I’m thinking that it may be a way to help me keep in touch poetically with my partners in poetry.  What do you think?