 I was restless and it was late ... far too late to be making noise, so my options were limited when I grabbed the deck of cards that sits on the bookshelf for someday or sometime it was a surprising move because really, they don't get much use, but I thought ... Solitaire, I'll play, Solitaire the cards, still like new, were stiff and slippery, hard to shuffle, and I couldn't remember all the rules so I faked it and won and thought, that was easy too easy so I searched for instructions and found it wasn't so easy after all game after game I lost until I was no longer restless, but tired, and went to bed and played again the next day, and the next and lost again and again and again until yesterday after days and weeks of following the rules ... I aced it on a quiet evening with a full house ----------- While I didn't have a lot to say about playing Solitaire, I wanted to write a short piece about how calming it was to shuffle the cards and how sticking with it (finally) gave me the reward of winning. Solitaire is a good game when you're not sure what to do. Playing with playing cards vs. online adds a physical dimension and allows for less screen time. Here's how to play.  The CRoW in tHe SNow sEEmed to let iT aLL GO. It froliCKed and fLUTTered and fANNed hIGH and LOw. PreeNing oR pLAYing, I'm sURe I dON't KNow. BUt let Me jUSt say ... Ohhhh, whAt a ShOw. Oftentimes, there are events you want to capture, but as a stand-alone story, there's just not enough material to write more than a few sentences.
When that happens, try a narrative poem. It's a storytelling form of poetry you can use as a tool to share snippets of your life. Moments in time that bring joy, clarity, or greater understanding. I've never seen a playful crow ... they keep their distance, often conjure (undeserved) negative vibes, and perch and fly with purpose. Off-guard displays of preening and play are not common ... at least not in my experience. I wanted to remember the crow and how such a seemingly upright, formidable bird let it all go. It's a reminder to seek, observe, and remain open to discovery, surprise, and wonder. And when there's not much to say, but saying it is important, write a poem.  We stopped to chAT with the lady in the hAT. She wAS, like us, dressed foR the weaTHer ... wHEther shE liked iT or nOT. The weaTHer thAt is. WinTER weaTHer. WhETHer it'S brISK and brIght or gray like tOdAY, we bUTTON and bOOT it. Then we snAP, zIP, and tUCK it, tOO. bUT we'D qUIVER and shiVer if thAT was aLL thAT. So wE pAUSe and we pONDer for thAT which iS thAT ... WhERe's my hAT? This poem came together over the course of a few days with the help of a thesaurus and a rhyming dictionary. Both are helpful in similar and different ways. The rhyming dictionary does just what it sounds like, finds words that rhyme with one another ... in this case I was looking for words that rhyme with hat. Quiver and shiver came to me without the dictionary ... but maybe they were inspired by it? The thesaurus is, I think, a sometimes overlooked tool for writing. Word choice makes a difference.   It's easy to forget how
much the light changes, how brisk the air becomes how summer greens and wax beans get squashed in the mashing of buttercup, butternut ... and blue hubbard, too how apples and pumpkins now vie for the pie and a warm bowl of soup makes me slurp, sip, and sigh ------------------------ If you're struggling to write, try a short narrative poem like the one above. Short lines with lots of detail can help you put your thoughts into words. Focus on word choice, and for fun, throw in some rhymes. If you're stuck, grab a thesaurus or a rhyming dictionary and see what comes up.  Yesterday we stopped to
chat with Mac Daddy -- a man of few words who walks with his dog, Mac. We call him Mac Daddy because we don't really know him—or his name, but were once introduced to the dog, Mac. We crossed paths on the trail in the woods out by the railroad tracks. We said—isn't it a beautiful day. He said—yes it is. We said it was good to be out in the woods on such a nice day. He said he's been walking out in the woods on the trail for years. Said his wife grew up in the neighborhood. Said they courted out there -- all "kissie face and huggy bear." We parted with lingering laughs and silly smiles, giddy with conversation about what people you hardly know will tell you.  Some still hang
like ornaments, bright and red and shiny others make like polka dots, red on green, beneath the tree. The ones that fill the gutter line up like bowling balls in the automated return. Is it the imperfections, or it it because they're not already picked, in a bag, in a store? I wish it was my apple tree.  Morning I HeARd the CaRDiNal siNGing before I saw it PerCHeD in the BiRcH tree a CAt LOOkiNG At mE, LOOkiNG at iT And, ONe MoRe SaP BUCket tHat MaKes ThrEE This is a throwback: a collage and poem I created a few years ago. It's still one of my favorites. You can see I was starting to use sheet music in my work.
It's also got a bit of shorthand mixed in: that line with the dot below it. Do you know what it means? Morning. That simple line with a dot = a word. Shorthand Shorthand is a symbolic writing system used by office clerks and secretaries before voice recorders were available. I'm not fluent in shorthand. It comes from a shorthand instruction book I found at a secondhand shop. The book has an index, so it's easy to pull a single word. It's like code writing because so few people still know shorthand. Don't you think it would be great for a secret diary or message? One big drawback, though, you'd have to learn shorthand to make it work. And the poem? I don't consider myself a poet, but sometimes I like to combine words with images to tell short stories. I don't remember now why I used upper and lower case letters for the poem, but it does make it interesting. If you'd like to write more, short poems could be a starting point. Not my hobby. Even if you don't stick with it, a new hobby might lead to something else. I haven't done much more with poetry, but the collage was the beginning of a lot more collage work. I now work entirely with sheet music and really like collage. Do you have a hobby that started while you were doing something else?  We're all poets, even you(!) ... I think it was in middle school. The assignment was to memorize and recite a poem. I chose Robert Frost’s Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. I think I liked it because it sounded poetic, but it also made sense to me. The poem isn't terribly long, and I practiced well enough to remember now that I felt pretty good when I sat down after my presentation. I can't say the exercise inspired me to write poetry, but I have churned out a few poems using the blackout poetry method. It's easy enough, and I've created a worksheet (2 pages) that makes it even easier if you want to give it a try. Chances are you've got some extra time on your hands, it's Poetry Month afterall, and given the circumstances we're all in, a little distraction goes a long way. Share the worksheet and invite someone to try it with you.  Here’s what you do. Find a short story or article (a printed page from a newspaper, magazine, an old book, or something you've written). Read through the text and select an anchor word. Something that catches your attention. String together a few others words to form a thought or sentence. Be sure they read as traditional writing does. Left to right, top to bottom. Blackout the words outside of the words you circled and you’ve got a poem. Here’s one I did. It's remarkable how simple yet thoughtful is it ... don't you think?  Now it’s your turn.
Click on the poetry sample above to get your worksheet download. It’s two pages (instructions and a short poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow) that will get you started. I selected Longfellow because he was from Maine and he is my choice for a writer/poet. Longfellow is a prominent figure here in Portland. There’s a fabulous statue of a seated Longfellow at the intersection of Congress and State in downtown Portland. He's positioned so that he's looking down Congress Street, toward the Wadsworth-Longfellow House, his boyhood home and home of the Maine Historical Society. |
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