#poemcrazy workshop 4/29/2017

Went to a writing workshop yesterday. We pulled words from books and made word pools, used word tickets, postcards, and pages ripped from an old dictionary; and then we wrote poems from those words. I stepped out of my box and wrote some things I normally wouldn’t have. (I usually like to rhyme.) The author #susangoldsmithwooldridge signed my copy of #poemcrazy and gave us each a “poetic license.” #funday #poetry #writing

Advertisements


Smooth petal-like time
rippled beneath them;
No more barefoot alleyway days
or chicken fights on the log.

It used to be War in the field till the last man was standing,
but now Anchor swings are untangled,
their bench sits untouched,
and the Indian clay is gone.

It was dodging Winston and his strumming guitar,
lazy summers, water balloons, neighborhood hide-and-go-seek.

It was Connect Four & Guess Who?
popsicle sticks, paint fights, and glitter glue;
It was their best $33 a week.

It was rollerblade grinding an orange rack,
hula hoop, Tip It, and hopscotch.
Now Never Ending Alley could fit in his pocket
and Gene’s candy tabs are all paid off.

But for some wayward souls, even life stopped.

like forsaken Rainbow Girl on the wall,
she aches to hear “I play winner,” one last time;
and if you park yourself on Shady Hill long enough,
you’ll feel silent weeping when Mr. Peeing Tree cries.

It was Cyclones vs. Hurricanes,
It was first loves, best friends, family, growth, and pain.

Now it’s the Colonial blood in their veins,
panic-filled and whispering, ”Please remember my name,”
lingering like lost laughter in the back of her brain.


been trudging for months,
knee-deep in honey-colored
darkness
so shackled
even the sociable sun couldn’t
smear these bitter thoughts
till he lathered his words up
like tangled lace on a ladder
and we stood in sapphire silence
moon-watching the other
like lustful astronauts