In chapter 57 and 58 of Poem Crazy Wooldridge says, "I write to catch myself...I exist when I write poems, I learn I'm larger than I thought...Where I end and where I begin, the boundaries of who I see myself to be, disappear when I'm writing poems." She talks about "caterpillar poets" and the concept of changing throughout life. She says she writes poems and they help with the awareness of life shifts from one place to another and sometimes it is like coming out of a cocoon. I hope this semester you ventured out of your cocoon a few times with you poems. For your final blog I would like you to think about the practice from chapter 58 and some of the irreversible changes you have gone through and are currently going through for the Seniors. Using your notes or a poem you created already from practice 58 create your final poem about an irreversible change.
I love the idea of "dreamsense" which Wooldridge brings up in chapter 52 of Poem Crazy. The idea that everything in our dreams appears to represent something part of ourselves is at the same time exhilarating and a bit scary. She continues on in chapter 53 discussing being in "poem-drenched state of mind, where poems start coming to me in even in my sleep" and I love this phrase. The imagery she creates with "poem-drenched state of mind" is one you shared with National Poetry Month and all of our poetry escapades. Both of these chapters have such great word phrases, I hope you jotted a few down in your word pool. I love the place between awake and asleep and think it is where our mind can be free to create. So for this week's blog take one of the poems you created or the idea for a poem you created in either chapter 52 or 53 practice polish it and then post it for your blog poem this week.
"Seek out children. Jot down what they say. We can find poems by listening, being a scribe and catching the words." --Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge
If you do not have many children to listen to or the opportunity to be around small children, listen to some of the people around you and see if you can use some of the words your hear spoken. You would be surprised about what comes out of some people's mouths.
Using your practice from chapter 38 in Poem Crazy create a final draft of your what children say poem and post it on your blog this week.
This week's blog is based on chapter 26 of Poem Crazy. Frank created his acrostic poem as a representation of himself, and just like Frank I want you to create your own acrostic poem of yourself. Remember you are dynamic and should represent all sides of yourself just like Frank.
Last week we read and watched some different response poems. This week I would like you to find a poem you like or that inspires you. Post a copy of the poem here in your blog along with the poem that you wrote inspired by the poem you have chosen.
I love WIF poems I think there is something beautiful and magical in examining our pasts, presents and futures. I also have to admit, I love genealogy and a good story and most WIF poems combine the two exquisitely. I also think like we saw in the Poem Crazy chapter 17 sometimes where we truly are from may not be the place we were born. Sometimes there are older stories calling us from the past and that is where we truly come from. They are windows to our souls and they are maps of our journey in life. Open the corridors of your mind and just explore. Remember you are you and this poem is you and let it come and reflect you; of course you are the expert on you and so it should encompass it all. Your blog assignment this week is to create your own WIF poem. You can use the model from Poem Crazy, you can use Georgia Lyon's poem, Willie Perdomo's or Kelly Norman Ellis' poem as templates, or create your own. Pick whatever style you like but truly create something that tells us your story and where you are from.
Where I'm From
George Ella Lyons
I am from clothespins,
from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.
I am from the dirt under the back porch.
(Black, glistening,
it tasted like beets.)
I am from the forsythia bush
the Dutch elm
whose long-gone limbs I remember
as if they were my own.
I'm from fudge and eyeglasses,
from Imogene and Alafair.
I'm from the know-it-alls
and the pass-it-ons,
from Perk up! and Pipe down!
I'm from He restoreth my soul
with a cottonball lamb
and ten verses I can say myself.
I'm from Artemus and Billie's Branch,
fried corn and strong coffee.
From the finger my grandfather lost
to the auger,
the eye my father shut to keep his sight.
Under my bed was a dress box
spilling old pictures,
a sift of lost faces
to drift beneath my dreams.
I am from those moments--
snapped before I budded --
leaf-fall from the family tree.
Raised by Women
I was raised by
Chitterling eating
Vegetarian cooking
Cornbread so good you want to lay
down and die baking
"Go on baby, get yo’self a plate"
Kind of Women.
Some thick haired
Angela Davis afro styling
"Girl, lay back
and let me scratch yo head"
Sorta Women.
Some big legged
High yellow, mocha brown
Hip shaking
Miniskirt wearing
Hip huggers hugging
Daring debutantes
Groovin
"I know I look good"
Type of Women.
Some tea sipping
White glove wearing
Got married too soon
Divorced
in just the nick of time
"Better say yes ma’am to me"
Type of sisters.
Some fingerpopping
Boogaloo dancing
Say it loud
I’m black and I’m proud
James Brown listening
"Go on girl shake that thing"
Kind of Sisters.
Some face slapping
Hands on hips
"Don't mess with me,
Pack your bags and
get the hell out of my house"
Sorta women
Some PhD toten
Poetry writing
Portrait painting
"I'll see you in court"
World traveling
Stand back, I'm creating
Type of queens
I was raised by women
Kelly Norman Elllis
Where I’m From
by Willie Perdomo
Because she liked the “kind of music” that I listened to and she liked the way I walked as well as the way I talked, she always wanted to know where I was from.
If I said that I was from 110th Street and Lexington Avenue, right in the heart of a transported Puerto Rican town, where the hodedores live and night turns to day without sleep, do you think then she might know where I was from?
Where I’m from, Puerto Rico stays on our minds when the fresh breeze of café con leche y pan con montequilla comes through our half‐open windows and under our doors while the sun starts to rise.
Where I’m from, babies fall asleep to the bark of a German Shepherd named Tarzan. We hear his wandering footsteps under a midnight sun. Tarzan has learned quickly to ignore the woman who begs her man to stop slapping her with his fist. “Please baby! Por favor! I swear it wasn’t me. I swear to my mother. Mameeee!!” (her dead mother told her this would happen one day.)
Where I’m from, Independence Day is celebrated every day. The final gunshot from last night’s murder is followed by the officious knock of a warrant squad coming to take your bread, coffee, and freedom away.
Where I’m from, the police come into your house without knocking. They throw us off rooftops and say we slipped. They shoot my father and say he was crazy. They put a bullet in my head and say they found me that way.
Where I’m from, you run to the hospital emergency room because some little boy spit a razor out of his mouth and carved a crescent into your face. But you have to understand, where I’m from even the dead have to wait until their number is called.
Where I’m from, you can listen to Big Daddy retelling stories on his corner. He passes a pint of light Bacardi, pouring the dead’s tributary swig unto the street. “I’m God when I put a gun to your head. I’m the judge and you in my courtroom.”
Where I’m from, it’s the late night scratch of rats’ feet that explains what my mother means when she says slowly, “Bueno, mijo, eso es la vida del pobre.” (Well, son, that is the life of the poor.)
Where I’m from, it’s sweet like my grandmother reciting a quick prayer over a pot of hot rice and beans.
Where I’m from, it’s pretty like my niece stopping me in the middle of the street and telling me to notice all the stars in the sky.
“We must not allow the clock and the calendar to blind us to the fact that each moment of life is a miracle and mystery.”
― H.G. Wells
I love this quote from H.G.Wells; it always makes me think of the ordinary magic celebrations in Poem Crazy and all the ideas we have been reading. I love the relation of things in new and unexpected ways, and the idea that if we are open to all of the life that is around us we can live in a constant state of amazement. As I journal and write this I am drawn to thinking of Lewis Carroll and Alice in Wonderland, so much of our life has to do with perspective. We can see things one way, and if we wait a moment and cock our head slightly we can see it in a whole new way. Life is a miracle and a mystery; so much to explore and experience. So many tiny celebrations to create throughout each day! So don't waste a minute...get busy and blog about the celebration you created from practice 12 or the poem you created inspired by your celebration.
This week I would like you to read or listen to a bit of news. Things that are happening in our world, our country, our state, our county, our town etc. Then in response to what you have read or seen, I would like you to write a poem.
On your blog I would like you to post the poem and the event which inspired you to write the particular poem.
Below is an example of a poem written about the Paris bombings by Karuna Ezara Parikh and was shared on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook.
I love art...I am jealous of all who can create it! Some of my greatest memories are of spending time communing with great art. While in the South of France I visited Matisse's studio/gallery...while in Amsterdam I had the pleasure of seeing the Cezanne exhibit, and another time a Van Gogh one...great art speaks to my soul. I loved afternoons at the National...their postcards section is phenomenal and an afternoon with Van Gogh's sunflowers...well they are my favorite flower.☺ The Espace Dali and The Louvre were wonderful...but a dream would be to someday go to the Dali Theatre in Catalonia....for now I dream and collect my postcards and imagine the scenes.... what are the stories? It was a game my grandmother and I would play when I was very young creating the stories for the paintings...what was it that Blue Boy was off to do and I often would set them up with lovers as well, his was the lovely Pinkie, how could they not be a couple I had told her as we meandering and absorbed the beauty.
It was truly kismet that her husband had the same painting as she. I have always collected art postcards they are the next best thing to the original for me.☺ I love that image and imagination come from the Latin word "imago", carrying feeling. I think the images like the poems can put us in touch with our own feelings, and even unexpected feelings."
Your practice assignment from chapter six was to find an image you like. You can polish that poem or try finding another piece of art... there are so many on the internet and create a poem. Post the image and polish the poem for publication this week on your blog.
I loved this chapter! It was wonderful when she discovered the boy she was dating was e.e. cummings' s grandson. It was also extremely tragic. A little more on e.e. cummings if you are interested.
I think what I liked best about this chapter of poem crazy was the idea that, "Some of our most important discoveries are made when we're not looking." This is such an important idea...to notice things and yet not force them, it is when we allow the natural flow to envelope us that we discover the greatest joys.
So most of you have already done the first assignment from this chapter, finding the an e.e. cummings's poems to share, and hopefully begun doing the rest of the practices.
1. Let a poem write itself as your pen writes itself... try breaking up words... lul
la
by
2. Draw your name using colored pencils...have fun with it!
3. Turn over a stone...describe what you see? Anything unexpected?
4. Notice three new things and write them down. They can be about a face or something else that is extremely familiar to you, maybe a stuffed animal or pet.
5. Write a series of images without stopping.
6. Give an idea a color. Example: purple peace.
Have fun and play with words!!!!
Your assignment for this week's blog will be to use e.e. cummings, who is know for playing with syntax, structure and grammar in his poetry, and your practice as inspiration, create a poem that plays with words, structure and syntax. REMEMBER HAVE FUN, be unexpected.
This blog will be due next Tuesday.
Geraldine Connolly
The turquoise pool rose up to meet us,
its slide a silver afterthought down which
we plunged, screaming, into a mirage of bubbles.
We did not exist beyond the gaze of a boy.
Shaking water off our limbs, we lifted
up from ladder rungs across the fern-cool
lip of rim. Afternoon. Oiled and sated,
we sunbathed, rose and paraded the concrete,
danced to the low beat of "Duke of Earl".
Past cherry colas, hot-dogs, Dreamsicles,
we came to the counter where bees staggered
into root beer cups and drowned. We gobbled
cotton candy torches, sweet as furtive kisses,
shared on benches beneath summer shadows.
Cherry. Elm. Sycamore. We spread our chenille
blankets across grass, pressed radios to our ears,
mouthing the old words, then loosened
thin bikini straps and rubbed baby oil with iodine
across sunburned shoulders, tossing a glance
through the chain link at an improbable world.
Use this poem from the 180 book, as inspiration for creating your own poem.
You decide the year etc.
The summer I was... or use the template as inspiration for the ______ I was ______
This week I would like you to pick one of the poems that you have created thus far. Polish it, make it shine and post it on your blog. You have written some beautiful poems you have shared with the class and possibly some amazing ones you have yet to share.
Pick something you like and want to share with the rest of us. I look forward to some amazing blogs this week. Blow me away with your genius!
This blog will be due next Tuesday.
Although I do not think this particular candy is edible, I do love to play with them. They are great for creating poems! I hope that you enjoyed playing with them and were able to create something extremely creative! This week post the picture of your poem from class. Be sure that you also tape a picture of this poem in your journal! Can't wait to read your fabulous poetical creations! This blog is extra special so it will be due on Wednesday.
As we approach Valentine's Day and look for love poems. They are all around and do not have to be written to a person! I encourage you to read a lot to help as you begin to write your own.
We have read in Poem Crazy about using images to encourage inspiration. I have put several images which may help to inspire you, or I encourage you to find your own. You will want to print the image and attach it to your journal with your practice work. Really look for something that creates a strong emotion within you and use that as your muse for this poem. After playing around in your journal create a final poem to post on your blog.
Be sure to include the image in your blog with the poem it helped to inspire. Create your love or anti-love poem; share it with us in class or not; post it on your blog.☺
All over Europe there are love padlocks,
they started appearing in the early 2000s;
no one is sure who started each one.
There is one in Rome where the ritual of
affixing love padlocks on the bridge
Ponte Milvio is attributed to the book, I Want You by Federico Moccia.
I think is a beautiful sentimental tradition.
In Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love
Graffiti artist Bansky has done several wonderful pieces
these are few with some romantic notions
Jenny Holzer has created art with the power of words...she takes what she calls truisms and makes them art. The piece below was a xenon she did in Berlin.
This is the meeting place by Paul Day
at St. Pancras Railway, in London; there
are some great statues here.
Of course there is Romeo and Juliet in Central Park.
El Beso is in Lima, Peru
This set pictures is from Emily Campbell's Love Ties, it is absolutely genius the words are all about Hanley Park in Stoke on Trent. She created these pieces "a reminder of distant memories, of words once spoken that can and often are so easily forgotten or torn apart. As it lives in the park a permanent and solid nature the reminder of these letter is not allowed to die, they can't be retracted or torn up. Love Ties serves to remind us that despite what we may have neglected, our words can and often do live on in others."
This cute scene can be found in Ottawa
Hearts like these are all over San Francisco.
The love seat is another padlock and tribute to love in Italy.
I ache for people who approach poetry like a root canal with torturous fear. They may have experienced the English class torture chamber Mr. Collins described for us; holding the poems of dead, white, men hostage. There may have been a sprinkling of Whitman and Dickinson. But the experience sucked the joy out of their marrow...crippling their poetic souls. That school experience is enough to cause some to run with they hear the word poetry later in life as if there were a swarm of killer bees after them.
I hope that in this High School Poetry class we can reexamine poetry and learn to love it. Just as we love other things like music and food; we don't all love the same types, but for each of us there is something we like. To the average person, poetry conjures images of archaic rhyming couplets, Shakespeare, beatniks snapping their fingers, diaries full of feelings, and a horde of other stereotypes. Like all stereotypes it only shows a few aspects and not the multifacets of poetry.
You could say that those people who run, suffer from Metrophobia, the fear of poetry.
Ideally poetry is everything, and that most certainly includes humor, love and modern relevancy. All those people who pass poetry off as elitist and esoteric work of dead white men are happy to create their self-fulfilling prophecies, limiting themselves and missing out on gems.
I hope that each of you will not fall prey to Metrophobia so you don't miss out on great poems like these gems by Maya Angelou:
Alone
by Maya Angelou
Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Directions for this blog: Watch and read the poems by Maya Angelou. In this post write a response paragraph or poem to one of Angelou's poems. Tell my what you think?
Welcome to the fabulous world of poetry! I am so excited to study poetry with you this semester.
As we study this semester I want you to think about... Why write poetry? Why Study poetry? Why is it that for thousands of years human beings have been creating and thinking and writing down their thoughts in the form of poetry? These are all fabulous questions; ones that I hope you will answer for yourselves this semester. I believe we love poetry because it is alive, it is the expression of humanity. Poetry is full of emotion, passion, opinions, beauty, anger, hope, dreams, fears...it is the window into our souls. Part of being human is the desire to express ourselves. I believe poems are the expression of what is inside each of us, and each poem is written because of a need to express our emotions. Poems allow us to express a moment, a feeling, an idea as truthfully and carefully as possible so that each reader can feel the essences of the emotion behind it. There are so many poems, types of poems and ways to express ourselves. I can't wait to get started!☺ Once you have set up your blog please write your first post. Tell me why you are studying poetry. What is your experience with poetry and how do you feel about it? Why do you think so many people either love or hate poetry? What do you hope to gain from your experience with poetry?
In chapter 57 and 58 of Poem Crazy Wooldridge says, "I write to catch myself...I exist when I write poems, I learn I'm larger than I thought...Where I end and where I begin, the boundaries of who I see myself to be, disappear when I'm writing poems." She talks about "caterpillar poets" and the concept of changing throughout life. She says she writes poems and they help with the awareness of life shifts from one place to another and sometimes it is like coming out of a cocoon. I hope this semester you ventured out of your cocoon a few times with you poems. For your final blog I would like you to think about the practice from chapter 58 and some of the irreversible changes you have gone through and are currently going through for the Seniors. Using your notes or a poem you created already from practice 58 create your final poem about an irreversible change.
Although I do not think this particular candy is edible, I do love to play with them. They are great for creating poems! I hope that you enjoyed playing with them and were able to create something extremely creative! This week post the picture of your poem from class. Be sure that you also tape a picture of this poem in your journal! Can't wait to read your fabulous poetical creations!
This blog is extra special so it will be due on Wednesday.
