Sunday, March 24, 2019

SOL24: Poetry Workshop


            This afternoon I went to a Women Writers in Bloom Poetry Salon, a workshop led by Peggy Robles-Alvarado. Over a little more than two hours, we read eight poems and had five- and ten-minute writing exercises after each one. After “From the Book Titled Nejma” by Nayyirah Waheed, we had the prompt, “who does your body make a home for?”; here’s my draft for that one:

My body
makes
a home for
the lost ones.
My body halts
the oncoming winds.
It cries out
for
soft kisses.
It brings home
the birds at sunset
My body lies
on the ground of
sand, shifting
with
the water edging
along the shore.
My body craves
tea leaves,
orange blossoms to
feed
your insecurities,
to heal
my insecurities.
My body lifts up
to the universe,
stars speckling
the dark sky.
My body makes
a home for memories
it can’t escape,
for memories it
feeds on,
for memories that
nourish and
memories that starve,
memories that have
no end,
memories that ride on
dirt tracks to
nowhere,
memories that can’t
be completed,
that stop at the
edge
of a canyon rim.
My body wants a home
that no longer exists.
My body builds a new
home from
nails, wine books,
words, words, words,
letters, numbers. 
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I’m participating in the 12th annual Slice of Life Challenge over at Two Writing Teachers. This is day 1 of the 31-day challenge.  It’s not too late to make space for daily writing in a community that is encouraging, enthusiastic, and eager to read what you have to slice about.  Join in!

4 comments:

  1. My body seems similar to what you describe in end parts of your poem. I like the rhythm of your poem. I always think poems should be easy, for some reason, maybe because they are shorter or the lines are shorter. I don't know, but the fact is, poetry is never easy for me. Thanks for sharing yours here.

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    Replies
    1. thank you. Part of this prompt was to think about how the words lie on the page, what the space looks like, which is what led to write such short lines, and even think about what and where punctuation belonged. Poetry is not my natural form, and I have to keep reminding myself that poetry demands images.

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  2. This is an incredibly poignant slice. It's making me think of all of the things my body holds, wants, and knows.

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