Have a Jazzy Poetry Friday, Sugar

Writerly Friends, not only is it Poetry Friday, but it is also Day (6 and) 7 of Author Amok's 2014 Poetry Project.

Hooray! Renee is hosting today!
Stop by No Water River for a list
of this week's Poetry Friday posts.

Last year, I spent February writing in response to vintage postcards. This year, my poetry prompt is paint colors. All this week, fellow poets have joined me, writing in response to the Pantone®  color(s) of the day.

Visit this post for a full description of the project, including sample writing prompts and instructions on how to share your colorful responses.

Officially, today's color is Jazzy. This is a color with BIG personality, well-suited for my brother's birthday celebration.

But I missed a day in there somewhere, so you might also write in response to the Day 6 colors, Kombu Green and Sugar Coral.

Day 6: Kombu Green
Pantone ®  19-0417

Day 6: Sugar Coral
Pantone ®  16-1640

I was stuck on these two colors at first. My notes are like this:

Christmas Cactus
Sugar sculpture of fish and coral crashing
Papaya?
MOSS
Pink Ladies, Cape May

And then, a very Sugar Coral memory bubbled up from a long ago trip to Hawaii. I was really surprised where this poem took me.

Guavas

by Laura Shovan

We came upon them in the wild.

I was all like, “Eat of the fruit.”

And he knew me, this new husband,

and would not eat. We sat on rocks

near a stream and I bit into the fruit,

its innards sugar coral, its seeds

in jellied pouches, like reptile eggs.

“See?” I said. “It’s good. It’s fine.”

But still he would not eat.

The trees were dark as seaweed,

kombu green. We were oceans

away from home, married two days,

maybe three. I pulled off my clothes

and slipped into the water,

which had come down

from the tip of a volcano.

I was all like, “It’s fine.

A little cold. Come in.”

I may have splashed him, playfully.

He sat on the rocks, my husband,

thinking he could still refuse,

thinking he could change the story.

Poet Patricia VanAmburg's amorous couple was inspired by the same color (Sugar Coral), but has a few less issues than the newlyweds in my poem.

Sweet Tarts

by Patricia VanAmburg

Pinky called Coral Sugar

Because she was his dish

Coral called Pinky Sugar when

Ever he granted her wish

Pinky and Coral spooning

Under a sugary moon

Their rendezvous ballooning

Into the late afternoon

Tabatha Yeatts (The Opposite of Indifference) has this meditation on one of today's colors as a symbol of writer's block.

Writer's block is kombu green,
or maybe white, or in between,
with a dash of crumple
wadded up in a bin,
and just enough room
for your brain to get in.

by Tabatha Yeatts, posted with permission.

Ready to be inspired by color? Leave your poem in the comments. I will update this post throughout the day.

Reluctant to dive in? Read some of this week's colorful poems:

Day 1: Apricot Illusion

Day 2: Peyote, Dark Earth, Cosmic Sky

Day 3: Purple Reign, Monument

Day 4: Hushed Violet, Demitasse

Day 5: Aloe, Bronze Mist, Zinc (Featuring Margaret Simon's poem "Annunciation" from her beautiful book Illuminate.)

Later today, I will post the amazing Diane (Random Noodling) Mayr's poem using ALL of this week's colors. It's a little risque, so you may want to come back when the kiddos aren't around. (That way, no one will ask why you're laughing hysterically. And you won't have to explain about the tassels.)

Along with Diane's poem, I'll post a list of next week's colors. Put your Jazzy dancing shoes on, and I'll see you later.

Up next...

Day 8: Peach Pearl
Pantone ®  14-1419

Day 8: MeteoritePantone ®  19-4008

Poetry Postcard 35: A Confession

E. STUART HARDY (BORN 1870) FROM

THE STORY OF THE FIVE REBELLIOUS DOLLS, C. 1910.

DARLING & COMPANY POSTCARD, donated by Patricia VanAmburg.

What is up with these dolls? They look cranky, stressed out. I tried to do some research on their story, to find a copy of this children's book, but I didn't have much luck. I was stuck.

Should the poem for this card focus on the dolls? Maybe the child to whom the rebellious dolls belong. I couldn't settle on the right voice.

Then, I found my personal connection to the drama unfolding in this scene. When I inserted my long-ago self into the story, the poem came together.

Rebellion

When my child was at last asleep,

a soldier doll in thumb-sized bearskin hat

marched to me across the nursery floor
I’d walked all night. He raised

his toothpick sword, entreated me to flee

with his band of fed-up dolls

as if I were a tangle-haired Parisian girl.

I wanted to run. I did.

I was a peg doll, out of joint,

the fine suit of clothes I came with−

gone, hat crumpled. I froze

and so they left me, traveled the world.

Sometimes, they still send

a postcard home, addressed

to Big Bad Momma.

Laura Shovan

The book's cover. The poem was almost about its author,
E. Nesbit, best known for The Railway Children.
 Her biography is worth reading, even on Wikipedia.

A big help -- guest blogger Charles Rammelkamp. A few weeks back, Charles shared postcards from his twin, who often addresses his greetings to “Bad Feller” and “Bad One.” I borrowed that title for the poem’s final line.

A few of the poems in my 44 Postcard Project have been autobiographical. In poetry, really in all writing, I shy away from that term. Is “Rebellion” a true reflection of my life, when my children were small? Even during nursing strikes and the dreaded Coxsackie virus, I never hallucinated or imagined dolls coming to life and telling me to escape.

And yet, there is truth in the poem. Parenting can be a challenge. When the babies (now the teens) have a particularly awful day, there is that momentary flash of “What would life have been like if...?”

Speaking of postcards and the Truth with a capital T, check out writer Michael Kimball’s postcard project.

Michael Kimball's latest book.

“MichaelKimball writes Your Life Story (on a postcard)” was featured on Little Patuxent Review’s blog last summer. Kimball told LPR's Ilse Munro, “It taps into something human and humane, and I continue to be amazed by what people tell me.

Kimball interviews people and writes up their stories, a process he called “intense and intimate.” The project has become a blog and will soon be a book.

Pre-order from Amazon.

Writing Exercise (Grades 3 and up):

Try Postcard Life Stories with your students (with sensitivity to pairings).

Skills:

• interview techniques and active listening as students gather information from one another;
• editing, deciding which facts to keep and which to cut, so that the resulting profile of a classmate fits on a postcard. 



Vintage postcard available on Ebay.

Poetry Friday: Postcard 25 and a Guest Postcard Poet

The Spiral Staircase Reading Series is a recent addition to the local literary scene. It’s run by Dan Kagan (recipient of Postcard Poem 14) and takes place at the Annapolis Bookstore. The bookstore has rare and antique books, a great children’s section, a coffee bar and – you guessed it – a spiral staircase.

 As a featured poet, I was allotted a generous 15-25 minutes. Hearing one person read for that length of time can test anyone’s attention, so I read just a few poems. Then, I led a postcard-based writing exercise I call “Points of Entry.” The exercise takes less than 10 minutes and can be done with any age group.

Points of Entry Writing Exercise

Materials: an old postcard, a clipping from a magazine, or a page in an art history book; a pen or pencil.

Jot down notes about the postcard for five possible starting points

• A visual element
• A word or phrase you respond to
• A sensory image other than sight
• Is there something worth researching?
• A personal connection

One or several of these notes could be the foundation for a poem. While most people in the audience kept the cards I gave out, some handed their notes back to me.

They look like this:

By Sunday, I heard from poet Debbie Annen, who had been in the audience. Debbie is visiting Author Amok to tell us more about the postcard poem she wrote.

Welcome, Debbie!

I started writing poetry in elementary school and I’m just starting to write again after retirement. In addition to being a poet, I’m a musician and visual artist.

I have not published since my high school literary magazine, way too many years ago. Having started writing again the past couple years, I’m looking to grow into who I will become as an adult poet.

Poetry is something different for every person. I think of my poetry of an abbreviated and or beautiful way of saying what I want to say, but not always.

I was an army brat, we moved every 3-5 years. I am drawn to Native Americans, their respect for the earth and environment.

I could be drawn by a caricaturist. The picture would be a of a heavy bottomed gypsy, wielding a large ukulele, mouth open and skirts, beads, earrings and hair flying. OR a mouse in the corner, shivering, hunched wishing to be invisible.

My collection of poems is pretty eclectic.

The postcard:

Thanks to the Kalodner-Martins for donating this card.

My first impression of the picture on the postcard was the red, then drum. The words “Bolivia Discover” are printed on the back. My entry point was sound. My impression was one of seriousness, a serious ceremony.

I began to wonder why this postcard, advertising Bolivia, did not have a feeling of joy or wonder.  Why would this solemn feeling picture be chosen to represent a country to tourists? I have no answers for this.

I saw the man looking straight at the camera. I felt the connection between the camera-person and that man.  That’s when the poem took real shape. 

Beat the drum
While the pipes play slowly
Marching feet drag
On this sad sunny day

One looks into the lens
Go away, let us mourn 
This is not your song
This is ours alone

Debbie Annen

Posted with permission of the author

Debbie, I am so pleased that the writing exercise provided a jumping off point for you. What a powerful poem.

The postcard I am sharing today is also a vintage tourist card.

2329−The City of Rocks

My entry point was #4, research. I learned three things about the City of Rocks in New Mexico. First, they include a formation called The Twin Sisters. Second, pioneers passed them, some on their way to the gold rush. Third, the area has some interesting flora, including the agave cactus/century plant, whose blossoms are notable.

Letter to a Pioneer, From Her Sister
   Who’s Made the Journey

You’ll see from a distance

a city – houses, chimneys,

streets. Close up it’s empty

as Pompeii. Blocks and

courtyards carved by nothing
but the wind. There’s cacti

will remind you of gentle things –

Cow’s Tongue, Bunny Ear.

Look for two spires

raising themselves up high.

They’re called Twin Sisters --

like us, only taller, big as the sky,

side by side and never moving.

When I passed those two

on the trail to California,

the Century Cactus were filled

with yellow blossoms. It was

a lucky thing, I tell you.

Plenty who pass this way

see no gold at all.

Laura Shovan

Here is a video, where you can see why the Century Plant is so remarkable.

Have a great Poetry Friday! I no longer live in the Garden State, but I’ll always be a Jersey Girl and so is today’s host, Tara at A Teaching Life.

Postcard information for "The City of Rocks":

"Between Silver City and Deming, New Mexico, there erupts from the earth around it one of the stranger of
rock formations. A few million years ago, these rocks were once buried deep in the ground. As erosion set in, these rugged rocks remained resistant to the ravages of time and the elements. So today, for the little time it takes, one can view with awe, amazement, and pleasure the workings of nature."

Distributed by Beach Importers & Traders, Inc., El Paso, Texas. Natural Color Post Card Made in the U. S. A. by E. C. Kropp Co., Milw., Wis.--ADY

Poetry Friday: NPR's Poetry Games

It's almost week two of the 2012 Olympics. As many have stated, there was a long tradition -- sadly, now ended -- of poetry concurrent with athletics in Olympic celebrations.

National Public Radio is trying in a small, but fun, way to bring the Olympic poetic tradition back.

In honor of the 2012 Olympic Games, you can visit NPR's Poetry Games. There are five poems competing at the NPR Poetry Games site. Each one represents a different country. Each one also represents a different Olympic sport.

The U.S.'s contribution is "The Wrestler" by Kazim Ali. (My son wrestled for seven years and our family has a love-hate relationship with the sport. There were things I loved and recognized as true in this poem, but it was also painful to hear -- as the sport can be painful to watch for families.)

From 222.london2012.com

I will be voting for "Lifting" by Ouyang Yu, who is representing either his native China or Australia. But I'm an honest judge and I am looking for overall performance, not country.

Lifting

by Ouyang Yu

For years
I have been dreaming
of turning
writing into a sport
in the Olympic Games
that is called, tentatively
Wordlifting
in which I'd give
my simplest performance
by lifting
the lightest and the liveliest
word: Love

Read the rest at NPR's Poetry Games. Then, read the other four entries and vote. You will find poems about wrestling, swimming, tae kwon do, and diving, as well as the lifting poem by Ouyang Yu.

Although I think we've seen enough competition lately, I love the idea of the Poetry Games. Through NPR's program, I've been reading poets from other cultures who are new to me, and also experiencing sport, not through a commentator's banter, but through the rich language of poetry.

Writing Exercise: take an Olympic sport and change its name to suggest the atheticism of writing. Write a poem about it. Water Polo (what's up with NBC's huge amount of coverage) = Word Polo, Volleyball = Verbyball, the long jumper could be going for a leap over longer and longer sentences. It's a stretch, but something to have fun with.

This week's Poetry Friday host is Rena at On the Way to Somewhere.

P.S. For those of you who wanted to vote in the Fascination Awards, voting is now open. Author Amok is in the running for a "Best Creative Writing Teacher Blog." The nominated post features Poetry Friday's Robyn Hood Black!

Goodbye to Barbie

Our daughter is a collector. When she was little, there were always pebbles, coins and bits of things in her pockets. She is an avid American Doll kid (even making food and knitting scarves for her dolls) and has more Littlest Pet Shop figures than I care to count. She even has -- against my better judgment -- Barbies.

I wasn't a Barbie person. When my friends brought their dolls out, I always wanted the doll who was a little different, with dark or red hair. Barbie made her way into my daughter's life via birthday gifts and Nana time. Nana is an expert at doing Barbie hair.


I was not sad, a few weeks back, when we said goodbye to Barbie. She and her friends were in plastic supermarket bags, naked or partially dressed, their hair entwined as only plastic hair can be. My sister-in-law said "no" to Barbie enjoying a second life with her daughter, age 4. I can't blame her.


Many women have mixed feelings about the fashion doll, especially as a play thing for our daughters.


Here is what Debra Kaufman, one of the North Carolina poets visiting this coming weekend, had to say about Barbie.

"There are good prompts and poor ones--the best ones work as talismans to stir some memory, fresh observation, or unexpected imagery or narrative and are in no way proscriptive. In this case the teacher laid out varied objects (a skeleton key, decorative cufflinks, a small glazed imperfect bowl, a nest, and so on) and asked us to take one and write about it. I chose a naked, disheveled-haired Barbie doll, and this poem came pretty much just as it is."

To a Barbie

by Debra Kaufman

She dresses you in evening gowns,

pushes shoes onto your

achingly arched feet,

bends you at the waist

and forces you into Ken’s car,

Ken’s boat, Ken always

whisking you away.

She moves your arms:

wave hello, better wear your windbreaker.

How tiring to have a pink

smile painted on

over a smear of white teeth,

your eyes, the blue of a chlorine pool,

always open.

Would you be happier alone

in the kitchen with your miniature

stove and tiny, unbreakable cups?
Mmm, this coffee sure tastes good,

she says for you, then strips

you again, rakes the comb

through your coarse, bleached hair,

then drops you in hot sand

under a killer sun;

grit gets in your cracks

while she eats an ice cream cone.

Naked, you wait—pert, expectant—

fated never to be loved for yourself,

but only as the plaything

of this moody little girl

now coming at you

with scissors in her hand.

You have a few chances to meet Debra and check out her award-winning book this weekend.

Friday, March 2, Little Patuxent Review is sponsoring a reading. Debra will be one of the featured poets. It runs 6:30pm until 9:30pm (reading begins at 7, open mic at 8) with light food, wine and maybe even music. The reading is hosted by Wisdom Well, 8955 Guilford Road, Suite 240, in Columbia.

Saturday, March 3, Debra, Richard Krawiec and Stephanie Levin -- our other two visiting poets -- offer a workshop at the Bethesda Writers Center, "Crafting Images." This runs 12-3 PM and will cover all writing genres. Registration information is here -- the price was recently reduced!

Saturday evening is Little Patuxent Review's Social Justice reading at The Writers Center. Debra will be a reader and panelist. The reading begins at 7:30 PM. We'll have copies of the ground-breaking issue and posters of the amazing cover, art by Theaster Gates, for sale.

I like the writing exercise that Debra shared. For a high school, or even middle school class, writing produced from this grab bag of junk might produce an interesting group project. If you're working alone, try raiding the junk drawer, or write about something that should have -- like my daughter's Barbies -- gone out with the trash long ago.