ezekielsdaughter: (VacationPhoto)

Two panels that I attended were poetry workshops.

  • The Poet as Activist: On Seeing and Saving the Natural World

  • Speculative Poetry Workshop

An early panel , the first was somewhat unfocused. However the presenters did note that while most literary poetry journals pay in copies, most SF magazines actually pay for poetry.  They gave the attendees the names of market lists.  Part of the problem was the focus on “the natural world”.   One participant asked about how to use poetry to reach mental patients and students in high school.  I immediately thought of Kalamu’s story circles.  The other note that I made in my little yellow tablet was the definition of “lune” poetry - a haiku styled poem with the 5-3-5 syllable count.

The Speculative Poetry workshop was interesting even though I got there a little late.  (It was murder trying to get from one wing of the convention center to another.)  I got there in time to be handed three words from three different canisters with the instruction to write a speculative poem using those 3 words.  I felt very happy with myself when I finished early, despite writing 3 drafts.  Someone in the front row was more productive.  She wrote  3 effective poems using her 3 words using her experience on a recent tour of San Antonio.

My three words were misty, interstellar medium, regent.  Go ahead. Try to write your own.

My poem

Read more... )

ezekielsdaughter: (babyWriter)





My questions are few and simple
Did Rachel wonder at the injury to Jacob’s thigh?
Did Leah inquire why brother was sundered from brother?
Did young Reuben ask “why these stones at Bethel?”
I want to hear their doubts as well as their certainties
I want to see the dust that gathered,
drew breath and
became man.






I have probably internalized Kalamu’s workshop.  They would jump up and say what?  You switched from one story to another.  Yeah, I did.  I do like the last image though.  Consider this a down payment on RWP #109.   It’s late and I’ll think some more one it.

draft two at makeda42.livejournal.com/52545.html

ezekielsdaughter: (babyWriter)
I missed the deadline for this challenge, but after three or four drafts I still want to post the poem here. Maybe I can take the poem to workshop in January.

Challenge first:readwritepoem.org/blog/2009/11/26/get-your-poem-on-102/

My response:


Thirty-five green jacketed soldiers
their hair cornrowed for battle
lie steaming on our table.
Bitter are they,
finding themselves conscripted into UN duty:
a vegetable barricade between my Texas mother
and her Louisiana in-laws.
We three children give
them tender comfort in our laps.
We wrap their limp carcasses in napkin shrouds;
We bury them at sea or
hide them beneath the remnants of sacrificed thanks.
It will be years before I bring a young solider to my lips.
Expecting the acid taste of his metal mother,
my tongue was surprised by the taste of spring.

ezekielsdaughter: (babyWriter)

These are on “stickies” on my desk.  Before I lose them under legitimate work, I had better post them.  They are responses to the following prompt:






Fancy as pheasant
gumbo, pagan as pounding
drums is New Orleans.





You partition my
heart, when in your pain, you part
kin from their portion





Phantoms flee before the
penetrating might of minds
sharpened by physics

Posted via LiveJournal.app.



It is a strange thing--for me--to write poetry that is not prompted by anger or depression or joy.  Just by words.  Just by request. 

Ladies fest

Nov. 6th, 2009 09:33 pm
ezekielsdaughter: (Default)
Sitting at one of those New Orleans that are small but have an enthusiast audiences.  A friend was performing poetry, but the poetry was interlaced with some great local musicians.

Posted via LiveJournal.app.


ezekielsdaughter: (Default)

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