Destined for Greatness

I received some really nice comments on this poem. People seemed to enjoy reading it and were able to interpret its meaning. It's like, a real, grown-up poem! So, I think it is done, for now. Can't see any places to tweak...

It is kind of strange - like walking away from a painting when you could keep adding strokes forever. I am starting to think about building a collection, though, and what that entails. The idea of putting poems together in a thoughtful way, looking at them in terms of their themes, etc. and putting THAT together and calling it a work. It is fun to think about.

Work-shopping - No. 2

This is the poem how it exists now. I have submitted it for work-shopping...we'll see where it goes. I also completed and submitted my first critique which was a challenge but also fun. I felt like I was in college again (in all the good ways). Hopefully the writer will appreciate my comments!

Destined for Greatness


They say you can dig to China,
so we start right away-
itching for the thrill of escape.

Towels flutter down like parachutes,
an umbrella blooms, but we don’t notice,
already clawing at the sand.

We scuff away the soft stuff first,
a sandy spray sent up from cupped hands,
fingertips hunting for cool silt.

Elbows extended, we dig in a fit-
the curve of shoulder, the snap of neck-
until we hit the damp layer below.

A scrape of plastic shovel,
the heft of wet sand, bowing handle-
then finally, the bottomless crevice.

How deep the hole
and how scary it seems
that a small child could crawl inside it and disappear.

As we cling to the edge with bare toes
the sand gives way-
scattering us like deer flies before we fall in.

How deep the hole, and yet how full.
Woven with thin rays of clay and filaments of wood.
Fragments of silica buried deep.

A scoop of ground, a hollow shaft-
from its origin we return, sand-caked and salt-covered,
eroded and tunnel-weak.

Craving waves of cool water,
we lazily kick at the earth-
filling in the hole so no one gets hurt.

Tidal (revised)

I received some really great feedback from people on this poem. I have decided to make a small change. This process is amazing, really. I wrote this poem so long ago...and yet, here it is new again. Anyway, here it is in its revised form. I like the change because there is a real reason behind it and it made a lot of sense to me. The poem feels complete to me now.

Tidal

In every pool of water
there is the suggestion of more time.
Like an ellipsis
sinking in between
space.
Dot and line.

I wait for the desire
to surge up and take me
like a catastrophic wave.
A breath held too long, released.

I need the gentle sway of surf.
A steady rise and fall
leaving behind rippled beauty.
A tidal push and pull within me.

The moon’s true talent is consistency.

First Work-shopped Poem

Here it is...my very first poem to ever be "work-shopped." So far, two people have commented on it. And I'm still alive! Not sure yet if I will be making any changes or not...


Tidal

In every pool of water
there is the suggestion of more time.
Like an ellipsis or
the first coat of paint.

I want to eat words.
To crunch and break apart
each syllable.
Sinking in between
space, dot and line.

I wait for the desire
to surge up and take me
like a catastrophic wave.
A breath held too long, released.

I need the gentle sway of surf.
A steady rise and fall
leaving behind rippled beauty.
A tidal push and pull within me.

The moon’s true talent is consistency.

Writer's Date

A good friend of mine often goes to see bands she likes alone. She calls these solo outings "Artist's Dates." Being more of a wordy than an audiophile, I consider my trip to B&N yesterday a Writer's Date. Me (the mom/wife) took Me (the writer) out for several hours to browse, think and most of all, re-engage with the writing life.

It had been quite a while, so it took a bit to get re-acquainted. But after a few minutes of lolling around the bookstore with nowhere to be and nothing specific to purchase, I began to relax. And recharge. And restore. I remembered that I actually like Writer Me. She isn't that intimidating afterall.

After walking around aimlessly scanning new books, the Poetry and Parenting sections and, of course, the bargains, I/we settled down in a comfy chair with copies of People and Poets & Writers. After flipping through People to find out the latest on Elin, Tiger, Jon & Kate (holy hair extensions!) I settled in with P&W. One of my husband's professors in college used to give him back issues and I have always picked it up when I can. But, like I mentioned, it had been a while (more on two-year-old son later).

Paging through the issue, I tried to avoid the MFA ads. I'm just getting back in step with Writer Me, no need to scare her off. One of the pieces is about emerging writers of 2009. It is in one of these profiles that I discover the site ReadWritePoem (see sidebar).

I am now a member of an online poetry community, have submitted my first poem to a workshop and I'm even back on Blogger.

I consider the date a success!