Jun 21, 2013 |
Five Things Friday at Frankly, My Dear…
Just under two weeks ago I went to the monthly meeting of the local California Writer’s Club. If you’re into writing, I suggest you check your state listings for Writers Groups in your area. Whether you aspire to be a professional writer or just jot words on paper for your own enjoyment, a Writer’s Club can help you develop your skills and give you a community of like-minded people to offer feedback and encouragement.
In our last meeting, we discussed poetry. In particular, we spoke of ekphrastic poetry: using art to inspire. It stems from the Greek ekphrasis: literally, description; from ekphrazein: to recount, describe. Wikipedia states “The word comes from the Greek ek and phrasis, ‘out’ and ‘speak’ respectively, verb ekphrazein, to proclaim or call an inanimate object by name.”
We discussed the works of Vincent Van Gogh, and each table was given several postcard versions of his works to select from. I looked carefully through the choices, and found myself consistently drawn to one that had beautifully deep shades of blues and yellows. While I tried to look earnestly at each painting, this is the one that selected me.
Observation Worksheet
Terrace of the Cafe at Night
Our assignment was first, to complete the Observation Worksheet. It asked questions such as “What is happening in this artwork?” and “What sounds, smells, feelings, tastes could you associate with it?”
Once our observation time was over (only five minutes, a very crude and immediate sensory experiment), we then selected those words that stood out more and constructed a poem based on the totality of our observations.
I titled my poem, “OLD / LIFE”:
Cobbled steps, wearing.
Whispers and smiles and hushed tones
Greet.
Day turned to twilight.
Still life sparkles.
Embracing life and beauty as seasons
Strong and subtle
Meet.
And that’s the first of my Five Things Friday offerings, with this week’s theme Poetry. Here are the rest:
2. I love poetry. I don’t know much beyond the basics, but I’m learning. I think one of the most beautiful appointments in the country is that of the U.S. Poet Laureate. If I could ever educate myself enough to hold such a position, I’d be forever giddy.
3. I used to write lyrics. I don’t know how to write music, so I would hum my own tunes, and the words would spill out. I always enjoyed the idea of writing songs, even if no one else heard them.
4. One of my favorite poets is my friend, Monique Teal. She was one of the first people to nudge me toward self publishing, and has herself published a great collection of her poetry: In Between the Trees is an emotional and compelling journey through grief and self discovery. Check out her amazing company at Storylight Publishing. I don’t tell her enough, but she’s been very instrumental in my writing and in my personal life. Her stories of endurance, love, trust, faith, and family… she just inspires me completely.
5. I should love to win the Nobel Prize in Literature for poetry. Alas, that runs next to #2 above, and I’m certain I may never be that educated and talented this side of the green grass. Still, I’ll strive for that because even in the learning, there’s enjoyment on the journey.
Are you a published poet with a book to share? Have a rhyme or two for the comments? It’s time to share your Five Things Friday!
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
The Friday Five – STORIES
Five Things Friday – TRAVEL
Five Things Friday: Everything Old is NEW Again
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Sep 6, 2012 |
Smell
that dusts worries
away.
Wet
that refreshes
my soul.
Plops
that look like
pawprints
on my windows.
Splats
that drum
a happy tune.
Sensory Overload.
I love
Rain.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Aug 7, 2012 |
My dear friend Beth sent me this poem in an email last night. She has no idea of the kind of week I’ve just been through… so all I can say is
THANK YOU.
~
[Jelaluddin Rumi, in Delicious Laughter, translated by Coleman Barks]
A dragon was pulling a bear into its terrible mouth.
A courageous man went and rescued the bear.
There are such helpers in the world, who rush to save
anyone who cries out. Like Mercy itself,
they run toward the screaming.
And they can’t be bought off.
If you were to ask one of those, “Why did you come
so quickly?” He or she would say, “Because I heard
your helplessness.”
Where lowland is,
that’s where water goes. All medicine wants
is pain to cure.
And don’t just ask for one mercy.
Let them flood in. Let the sky open under your feet.
Take the cotton out of your ears, the cotton
of consolations, so you can hear the sphere-music. . . .
Give your weakness
to One Who Helps.
Crying out loud and weeping are great resources.
A nursing mother, all she does
is wait to hear her child.
Just a little beginning-whimper,
and she’s there.
God created the child, that is, your wanting,
so that it might cry out, so that milk might come.
Cry out! Don’t be stolid and silent
with your pain. Lament! And let the milk
of Loving flow into you.
The hard rain and wind
are ways the cloud has
to take care of us.
Be patient.
Respond to every call
that excites your spirit.
Ignore those that make you fearful
and sad, that degrade you
back toward disease and death.
~
I love this poem. I’d never heard of Rumi until last night. I googled the copyrights to make sure I could post, and Rumi and Barks are so intent on sharing his gift of poetry that the caviat is only to cite them as the source and author/translator of this wonderful poem.
Astounding.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Apr 2, 2012
That’s a tough question. A very tough question. Because I’m pretty sure before I learned to talk, I learned poetry. My mom was, and still is, an avid reader. She read to me since birth. As I’ve often blogged about her, she’s instilled my love of words. I’m fairly certain that I recognized poetry and prose long before I “knew” anything about them.
I can’t be sure that I correctly recall the first poem I ever memorized, but The Itsy Bitsy Spider comes to mind. That, and perhaps any rhyme from Winnie the Pooh.
And Dr. Seuss. Dr. Seuss rocks! I grew up on The Cat in the Hat, and loved loved LOVED when Mom would read to us from The Cat in the Hat’s Dictionary.
Once on a weekend afternoon, Mom was busy in the kitchen (another love she shared with me!), so my brother and I asked Dad to read to us from the Dictionary.
Poor Dad! He gave up after five minutes, because my brother and I kept telling him, “Make the voices like Mom does,” “That’s not how Mom reads it,” and “You’re doing it wrong.” I can see the frustration on his face. He tried, he really did; but a deep man’s voice can’t compete with a soft mother’s inflections when it comes to the imagination of two young children.
And while I still can’t be sure what the first poem I memorized was, this prompt certainly brought back fond family memories.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Nov 11, 2011 |
He said, “Follow me.” I said no.
He waited anyway.
He said, “Stay on this path.” I strayed.
He led me back.
He said, “I love you.” I pushed him away.
He loved me anyway.
He said, “I want to adopt you.” I refused.
He called me His own anyway.
He said, “I want to save you.” I laughed.
He sent His True Son to die in my place.
He said, “Let me bless you.” I ignored his gifts.
He blessed me anyway.
He said, “I will provide.” I wanted it all.
He withheld, but gave me more than I could ever need.
He said, “You are perfect.” I called Him a liar.
He never pointed out my faults.
He said, “Please be careful.” I was careless.
He was tender with me anyway.
He said, “Don’t touch that.” I broke things.
He put the pieces back together.
He said, “I forgive you.” I said, “Who asked you to?!”
He forgave me anyway.
He said, “I still love you.” I told Him to shut up.
He kept loving me anyway.
He said, “I’ll protect you.” I ran into the world.
He protected me from myself.
He said, “Look at me.” And I saw the scars.
He bled for me.
He cried for me.
He cried out to me.
And I stopped turning my back.
He asked me to follow Him.
I said yes.
And He led me.
And He forgave me.
He is so unfair.
