sharing a poetic LIFELINE with the world

Posts tagged ‘Poetry’

Make Visible: Organization

write-picI’m a poet with a particular point of view. In these next blog posts I’ll post poems on different subjects from my point of view. Each poem is an expression, through me, of inspiration or Spirit or emotion. What you see in this light is what you bring to the poem.

What is it about staying organized? It’s a noble pursuit, so they say. It’s so hard to get and stay organized. A poem can be about anything, anything at all, or even nothing at all. This is my poem about organization.

Disorganized

If I was truly organized
I’d know where everything was
every last paper
every last book.

I’d pay my bills on time,
find the keys
and my favorite lipstick.

But bills pile high on the dresser
my desk has layers to excavate
can’t find my slippers.

You tell me organizing is easy.
In a minute I’ll lose my pen,
then this poem will be over.

© Anne Westlund

 

Disorganized a huge mess

Disorganized a huge mess (Photo credit: Yuba College Public Space)

Come back on Friday, May 31 for Make Visible: Home

“Make visible what, without you, might perhaps never have been seen.”~Robert Bresson, French Film Director

 

 

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Poetry Month: Book Spine Poetry

If you’re not aware, April is National Poetry Month. Next week is also National Library Week. AtYourLibrary.org is celebrating both with a contest. Use the books from your library to compose a Book Spine Poem telling why the library matters to you (deadline April 20). I haven’t made it out to my library yet, but wanted to make my own book spine poem. This isn’t themed about the library, and was made using my personal library.

A book spine poem is made by stacking book spines so the titles make a free verse poem.

book-spine-poem-e1365800953188

Mary’s Book Spine Poem

In case that’s hard to read, or the image doesn’t load, it reads:

The Shadow Warrior
Exile

Out of Avalon
Through Stone and Sea
Too Stubborn to Die

It was a fun challenge going through all my books, pulling and mixing and shifting trying to find something I liked and that told a story. I’d lvoe to see what you come up with from your own libraries.

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Make Visible: Workshop Poems

write-picTo continue our series on the Muse Online Writers Conference and our Poetry Workshop last fall, I present to you two poems that were written during the conference.

Even though the Poetic Muselings were “teaching” or facilitating the Poetry Workshop, we also “learned” from each other and the participants.  I always come up with new writing when I attend MuseCon and this time was no exception.  Here are two poems that literally wouldn’t have existed if not for our workshop and MuseCon.

  • Persona Poems

Persona poems are poems that are written in a voice other than that of the author, where the author pretends to be someone else. ~Margaret Fieland

This is the prompt I used for my Persona Poem:

– The loneliest keys on the keyboard that never get used

Typewriter Keys

Typewriter Keys (Photo credit: jon|k)

A Question

Q?

I have a question.
Why am I so neglected?
You like E and A
and I far too much.
You never type Quasimodo or Quack
Or even misspell, using Q for K.
I’m in a quandary.

There’s not much I can do,
the letter Q
on your keyboard,
lonely, upset, tired.
I know I shouldn’t quomplain,
but I do.

Q?

© Anne Westlund

 

  • Ekphrasis / Picture Poem

An Ekphrasis or Picture Poem is a poem inspired by a work of art.  I was inspired by Visual 5, a collage by Lin Neiswender.

Visit to the Beauty Shop

Like a chorus of blondes
they tell me my hair is fried
from at-home color

These hairdressers
all perfectly coiffed
like angels of desire
swoop in and mutter over
my split ends

In need of proper maintenance,
conditioning and decent upstanding
expensive $$ permanent color

I don’t know whether to laugh
or cry

I’ll stick to my box color
I’ll stick to my free hair cuts
thank you very much!

The choir shrieks off-key
paling against the vagaries
of economy

So much for a “free” consultation
I don’t leave a tip.

© Anne Westlund

 

Please check out the Muse Online Writers Conference and sign up for next year’s conference here: http://themuseonlinewritersconference.com/

“Make visible what, without you, might perhaps never have been seen.”~Robert Bresson, French Film Director

 

Spotlight on Saleema

Today we are featuring another of our Muse Conference workshop participants. During the week of our workshop, we challenged poets to write three different forms. We chose winners for each, and Saleema’s “My Sun” was clearly one of the best in the Persona form.

We are happy to have Saleema joining us today, to look back on her experience during the Muse Con, and share some of her poetry. And now I’m going to turn the floor over to her.

Mary

On the Muse Conference experience

You asked me what I liked about [the Muse Online Writers Conference].  I have to say everything.  The conference is full of talented, generous writers, who go out of their way to be helpful and share their skills.  I must admit that the poetry workshop took up most of my time this year.  I’m not one of those poets who likes to write quickly.  I often get inspirations, write them out in my notebook, and then type the notes (my rough draft) on the computer. After all this, I begin to sculpt the poem.  I edit, tweak, research, and edit some more. For me writing is a quiet, internal process that even my humorous poems go through.   So, given my immersion in anything I write, it’s always a challenge finding enough time to participate in all the conference workshops that catch my interest.  The Muse Conference is boiling over with gallons and gallons of things to do, to learn, to write, to comment on, to correct, etc.   It’s a wonderful whirlwind of activity and learning.  So, I would have to say that the hardest thing about the Muse Conference for me, is having to accept that there’s only 24 hours in a day, and then pick my workshops very carefully.  I’m so grateful that Lea keeps the forums up, so I can go back and catch up on everything I missed.  That extra time gives us all the opportunity to work at our own pace and keep learning after the conference has officially ended.  I enjoy my catch-up time in the forums almost as much as the conference.

The 2012 Conference was the first one to offer a weeklong poetry workshop… and it was fantastic!  The critiques were great, and the spot on comments really helped me take my writing to another level.   The assignments were enjoyable, though I have to admit, I ended up getting engrossed in the one that asked us to write a poem in another’s voice.  I could have spent the entire workshop delving into that assignment.  It was such fun and really helped me recognize the intricacies of my own voice.  Actually, I’m still experimenting with that form.

I can say, in all honesty, that the Muse Poetry Workshop was one of the best I’ve ever taken.  The level of feedback from the moderators and the workshop attendees was professional and insightful.

A Sample of Poetry by Saleema E. Giltinan

Wearers of Wool

Living in the mountainssunset

far from the tower of Babel,
Peak Dwellers fly to the sun
gathering beams to shine
in the valley of snows.
Their points of view glow
with eternal verities
that enlighten all
who wish to see.

Who’s in Control?

Thoughts jump like frogsfreeimages.co.uk photos of objects

plunging, swimming, floating
in deep and shallow ideas.
They are like TV shows
and radio broadcasts.

When their production
turns into a horror fest,
a fear mongering symphony,
or ridiculous repetitions,
simply change the channel.

Cultivating Change

Delve like a mole,
dig deep, deep, deeper;
tunnel through the soil
of elemental thought.
Craft passageways;
some will curve or spiral,
others will be straight
with narrow paths.
Roots of conditioning
groan, as you
toss them aside
Dig, dig, dig, far below
surface appearances.
Remember, when you’re
tired, respite can be found
in the silent spaces
between your thoughts.

delving-deep

Universe Infinity

About Saleema

Saleema E. Giltinan

Saleema E. Giltinan

Education: I have a Master’s Degree in Psychology and a Bachelor’s Degree in Social Work.

I’ve traveled extensively and spent several years living in India, journaling and studying eastern spiritual traditions.  I have been a spiritual teacher for over twenty-five years.  My favorite writing genre is poetry, although I also write inspirational non- fiction.   My spiritual path inspires my poems.  I enjoy writing poetry because metaphors and poetic stories provide a wonderful format to express spiritual concepts.  The language of symbols is expansive and can speak to many different levels of consciousness.  I love mixing symbols with practical day-to-day experiences as I craft my poems.

Publications:  Other Sheep Magazine published one of my poems.  I actually met the editor at the 2011 Muse Conference, pitched the poem, and got it published.

Thank you, Saleema, for taking our workshop, for the courage to share and grow, and for joining us here on our blog.

If you missed it, read the first post in our workshop participants series.

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Make Visible: Memories

The Hawthorne Bridge in Portland, seen from th...

The Hawthorne Bridge in Portland, seen from the southeast side of the bridge. This is a 7×1 panoramic stich. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Make Visible:  Memories

Poetry is about remembering, remembering a moment in time.  Like a photograph, a poem preserves moments that can never be experienced again, at least not in the same way.  This helps the writer as much or more than the reader.  There may be moments you want to remember, not just with a photograph.  Of course, we don’t have photos for all of the important events of our lives.

Task:  Write a poem about a city or town that figures prominently in the story of your life.

Try it!

I wrote this poem for a Powell’s poetry contest.  I guess they were looking for something more avant-garde because it didn’t win.  Here’s my memory of Portland, OR:

Memories of Portland

At OMSI we learned about the space race
Watched metal balls drop, spin and disappear
And entered a giant red heart
Leaving it, heartbeats ringing in our ears
Excited by it all.

We always ended up at the Oyster Bar
Suspicious of anything with a shell
Crustacean or mollusk
I settled on clam chowder and crackers
While my family feasted on gifts from the sea.

Only in later years
Did I enjoy the simplicity of the Japanese Gardens
Observing a perfectly reenacted tea ceremony
From a distance, while the rain fell
Boulders as islands, surrounded by seas of white rock.

In my college days I could appreciate
That land mass, Powell’s, full of books
More than I could ever read in a lifetime
Losing myself in the Gold Room
Taking home a stack of books a foot high.

© Anne Westlund

 

 

“Make visible what, without you, might perhaps never have been seen.”~Robert Bresson, French Film Director

 

 

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My Fairy Muse

fairy-bliss-book
Fairies, dancing through the light that breaks through the forest. Calling others to join them. How can I resist? I love fantasy, magic, flight, and butterflies. Fairies combine all these elements into delicate, enchanting beings. I may not believe in real fairies, but of all the paranormal creatures they are the ones I wish most for. It’s no wonder they inspire me. From my bliss book to home decor to my writing. Here’s some excerpts.

from my poem “Concrete Forest”

Stench of pigeons
rouses me;
I uncurl from the nook
at the statue’s collar,
flap my wings
to rid night’s dust.

The birds share their crumbs–
pigeons and a fairy,
what a quaint family.

From the novel “Fly With Me”

The main character, Alexa, collects dollhouses for a fairy refuge in her front yard. Here’s an outsiders glimpse inside her home.

vines-by-nene-thomas
Sunshine poured through the bay window, creating a cloud of fairy dust over the round dining table. Placed evenly around the table were five mismatched place settings, all in vivid pictures. A plate of fairies here, sitting atop a larger one depicting lovebirds. One had a wine glass with a pewter dragon wrapped around the base, while another had a yellow plastic cup with red airplanes. The only thing connecting them all was the image of flight. Folded over the back of each simple wooden chair was a homemade name card. Unusual names, such as Casternon and Lalla-Lu, written in purple ink.

One long shelf of marble extended above the fireplace. The contents had as little sense as the place settings. Bottled flies, a dollhouse, dried hot peppers. The hardwood floor beneath had long scratches half-covered by what looked like dragon scales. Almost hidden behind the door was a pair of feathered wings hanging from a hook. No two of the sewn feathers were alike.

From the novel “Fey Moon”

Lamaric’s stocky form stood out against the slender grace of most Fey. Jex assumed that’s why the djinn’s best friend was Lue Nae–a runt pixie, four inches to her siblings’ five.

After Shenorill left for another meeting, Jex interrupted the friends’ game of hide and seek. “Why do the Voices meet so oft?”

Lue Nae popped out of the vase she hid in, her dual set of filmy wings trembling as she hovered. “The prophecy of course. The time is getting so close! Everyone is talking about it.”

“What prophecy?”

Lamaric raised his bushy red eyebrows. “The return of the Goddess, Mother of the Elements. Satu knows the tale.”

Jex frowned. “She never told me that one. I only know of Eleuteria from your creation myths. Why would she leave in the first place?”

“Those stupid enchanters.” Lue Nae did a flip kick at an imaginary foe. “They couldn’t stand to see one of their kind in love with a goddess. She was banished to save her life. I wasn’t born yet so never even got to meet Her.” The pixie flittered over to sulk on Lamaric’s shoulder, her cottony white hair drooping around her face.

fairy-figurines

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Looking back on November: Poem a day

Again this year I participated in Robert Lee Brewer’s November Poem A Day challenge. The poems are supposed to form a chapbook, but I wasn’t aiming for that. I simply wanted to write poetry.

My muse has been in an un-serious mood most of the month. I’ve done a lot of rhyming and a lot of, well …

Here are a couple of poems:

Poetic Formless

Dust like stars. Any storm in a port. The eye of my apple. Dust the bite.  Blind a turned eye. Fuse a blow. Worm an open can. A death worse than fate. Ice the break. Knot the tie. A society of pillars.

Moons with rock piles made of diamonds, worlds of water where huge ships sail, never reaching shore, jungles full of purple cows, green tigers, and yellow elephants, dragons, fairies two feet tall, ten-foot-tall giants, magic wands, movies that turn themselves on with a blink of an eye.

My car sprouts helicopter wings. I look down on the cars lined up on route 95 as it winds through downtown Providence, and I open my mouth and sing, loudly, beautifully on pitch, remembering all the words.

The Truth about Truth

I desire a Truth
in my Christmas stocking.
Instead, in my head,
I hear a voice mocking.

“Truth’s much too fat
to be hung from a ledge
above a hot fire.”
Alas, though I pledge

she’ll never get burned,
she just shakes her large head.
Perhaps I will dream her
tonight in my bed.

She’ll plop on my blanket,
speak low in my ear.
I hope I’ll be able
to shut up and hear.

When He’s Gone

Alas, my laptop, Joe, is dead.
He tripped and fell right on his head.
The light went off. I almost cried,
the night my laptop, Joseph, died.

I had another laptop, Lou.
Unfortunately, he’s finished, too.
I spilled some coffee on his head,
and now my laptop, Lou, is dead.

Alas, I fear I’ll be offline
until November 12 at nine
AM when I return to work,
and leap onto my desktop, Kirk.

So for a time, I bid adieu
while I consider what to do:
to buy another or repair
or find someone who has a spare.

 

 

Mary’s Expression: Embracing the Passion

passion-dovesI am a passionate person. Most people don’t get to see that. In fact, most people don’t really see me at all. I’m the quiet one in the background, invisible. At times I felt there wouldn’t even be a ripple if left. No one would notice. But there have been a few special people who have seen through that invisible shield, seen the passion I have inside.

I have a strong empathy for people. This leads me to blindly trust, believing a person to express truthfully. I need to believe in the goodness of people. There is so much pain and ugliness in the world. I’d rather see the beauty, even if it blinds me. I’m sure I’ve been lucky so far. I haven’t been badly burned. Not since I was little anyway… but I digress. I live by my emotions. My head may plan and compare and list, but my emotions are generally stronger. They’ve gotten me into much more trouble than my blind trust.

But I’d rather feel strongly than not at all. In eighth grade I was hospitalized for depression. Depression isn’t a feeling, it’s not accurate to describe it as sadness. It’s a lack of feeling. No sadness, joy, passion, pain. It’s a lack of emotion. It’s much more dangerous to not care than it is to feel. At least this way I can experience, learn, and grow, rather than remain stagnant. It can be so easy to retreat within myself, to block out all emotion, but that blocks out people as well. People that are an important, wonderful part of my life. People that care for me. Maybe that’s why I haven’t tried to control my feelings. I’m afraid that if I block one emotion I’ll do the same to the rest. I can’t afford to go back to that. I have responsibilities, people that need me. So, I will direct my passion rather than cut it off completely.

There are many things in this world that I enjoy, but there are few that I am truly passionate about, that I cannot live my life without. As you may have surmised, my close friends and family are up at the top. Other passions include dancing, poetry, my fantasy novel, books, playing the piano, and nature. I thought I could live without the last, but I find I crave fresh air. I need to spend time outside, feel the sun and the wind. These passions are what make me feel alive. Take away one of my passions and I will survive. Without a piano, I could only play when I visited my parents. But, as I crave the outdoors, I crave to feel my fingers on the keys of a piano. To make music, let it enfold me. As I read, the urge to write my own stories builds. They are all connected. Take away all my passions and I think I would die. What would I have left to live for? My fire would burn out. I’m grateful to those who have seen my passion and helped to keep the fires alive.

What are you grateful for? What are your passions? What drives you?

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Waiting to hear on a proposal for a workshop

744908720_2654497633_0I got email from the Mass Poetry festival letting me know they’d received my workshop proposal. Fortunately they copied the email I sent them, because I forgot to save a copy.

I don’t know if they will go for it, but, hey, at least I sent it in.

Workshop

Even if we don’t suffer from writer’s block, we often dismiss our ideas before they have a chance to develop. How many times has a line of poetry popped into your mind only to be dismissed? A subject you dismissed as trite or as something you’d never write about? What are you afraid to tackle?

Don’t let your inner editor choke you off before you start. This workshop will include a series of exercises designed to free your inner muse.
Equipment Needs

  • Table for Presenters
  • Chairs for Presenters
  • Dry erase board
  • Paper and pencils

Target Audience: Anyone who wants to dig deeper and free themselves from their own critical thinking.What makes this distinctive and compelling? We’re all inclined to doubt the worth of our own work and to not pay attention to what it is we want/need to write. We will use group writing exercises as a warm-up to generating poetry, brainstorm starting lines for poems, write poems from various points-of-view: ex mother-in-law, best friend from high school, glass of water on your nightstand, unused computer keys. Anything goes.

This workshop is meant to be fun, to generate some ideas the participants to take away, and to start to develop some techniques they can use to get started when inspiration fails to strike.

Publicity & Audience Development Plan *I blog monthly on writersonthemove.com, twice monthly on poetic-muselings.net, and on my own blog, as well as guest blogging. I would use these to promote the workshop.

I’d promote on facebook and twitter, try for an article in my local papers, community tv station, and on internet and regular radio as well as emailing my list of contacts about the workshop.

Have you produced this or a similar program before? If so when and where? *I am one of the six Poetic Muselings. We presented a workshop, “Poetry: Not just for writing verse,” at the Muse Online Writers Conference this October.

 

 

 

Make Visible: A New Addition

write-picMy creativity extends beyond poetry to crafts.  I just got a “new addition” to my creative arsenal, a sewing machine!  It’s not really new, in fact it’s a 40-year-old Kenmore, all metal construction.  I haven’t sewn since I was 13.  I’ve already done a bunch of straight stitches and figured out how to stitch in the opposite direction.  I haven’t filled a bobbin yet or threaded the top and bottom of the sewing machine.  I plan to do crafts to start with, like aprons and potholders.  Here’s to my new hobby, sewing!  Below:  the Kenmore, a book to help me, and some fabric to start with.

1972/73 Kenmore

“Sew Everything Workshop”

100% Cotton Fabric

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Make visible what, without you, might perhaps never have been seen.”~Robert Bresson, French Film Director