We need room.
We need space to stretch.
We need time to consider.
Flashes of inspiration are well and good,
but reflection needs room for rumination.
poem- rain May 27, 2016
We’re raining
damp permeates bones
sky slides claustrophobically close
Grey day
poem-efficient May 26, 2016
Team play
race around
Think
Think
Money reward
Run faster
If it’s fun
can it really be
learning?
.
.
.
(Yes. Of course) 🙂
poem- broken May 25, 2016
If the broken pieces
didn’t blind him,
cripple him,
impale him,
perhaps he’d be free
to see her pain.
And seeing, to embrace it,
tame it, and more–
for her to show him
what she knows,
that slivers can be pulled,
that slats can be hammered,
that broken pieces can grow into crutches,
that the cracks of fractures
can be patched into a quilt
for a bed of nails.
Oh, he is broken, but
Comfort is where you find it.
poem- Star people May 24, 2016
We are all made of star dust
but some of us
are less star
than dust.
Star people cause ripples
in our complacency
raise our eyes
to skies.
poem-pain May 23, 2016
Take that moment of your greatest pain
and channel it into power.
Stare down the darkness and bend it to your will.
Use it to transform words
into a hydro station of energy
that transforms worlds.
poem-ink May 22, 2016
Two thousand years ago
ink was crafted from
gall nuts
and crystals
of gum arabic
ground to powder
stirred into water
with iron oxide powder.
Ink that bound words to paper
so they clung there for millennia,
tangled in the fibres,
still legible.
Today, I ground and stirred and bottled;
now I wonder,
do I have words worth preserving
for millennia?
.
.
Today I did a workshop with Ted Bishop at the Word on the Lake Writers’ Conference. His book The Social Life of Ink was nominated for the 2014 Governor General’s Literary Award for non-fiction. It was very cool to make the ink, and especially to write with it. I dipped the pen, wrote, and then watched as the pale brown words turned black as the ink oxidized. So cool. Here are Ted and I. He’s holding a fountain pen, of course. 🙂
poem-universe May 21, 2016
Practice is good he said
The words flow smoothly.
But what is the connection
to the universe?
These snapshots are all well and good,
but they need to rise above the situation
and comment upon it.
Ah.
Speaking to the universe?
That’s a lot to ask of someone
who has trouble just getting up most mornings.
poem-memorized May 20, 2016
Mrs. Filber’s daughter memorized Poe’s The Raven and recited it for her mother’s sixth grade class. Student Wanda reflected years later, “This was my first encounter with the power of poetry…How independent Mrs. Filber’s daughter was–she could conjure up this poem at any time in the future, enjoying it again and again!” (May, W. 1991. “The Arts and Curriculum as Lingering.” p. 145).
What power in memory
to pull from air,
call upon bardic traditions,
weave words around ears.
Captivate.
Infiltrate.
Enervate
with poetry.
.
.
(A little poetry inspired by my grad school reading today).
Shawn L. Bird 