I'm beginning to think that if Liz Garton Scanlon called for the moon to stay full an extra night or two, she would get it. Last year, she cajoled seven of us into writing a crown sonnet---even though the majority of us had never written a sonnet, crowned or uncrowned, before. This year, she eased up and requested but a villanelle apiece. Oh, with one rule: we had to use the words "friends" and "thanksgiving" in our repeating lines.
Again, I tumbled into the task; my first lines were atrociously weak. Again, I felt the rules of the form, the interlinking lines of the villanelle hold me up. And now? Now, I'm wishing for a lute to clutch so I could play minstrel and attempt to recite for my supper. I might be beaned with a stale roll for my trouble, but no matter. I'm a convert to villanelles, and no amount of heckling can dissuade me.
Here's my contribution to the seven villanelles posted today. You can find the links to each of them at Liz's place; it's astounding how varied and beautiful they all are.
Note: I tweaked Liz's rules and used "give thanks" rather than "thanksgiving." I did not, however, mess with "friends." That would've been foolish.
Friends, Marrow Each to Each
Friends, marrow each to each; else famine steals the feast;
Deck Brie in berries; fat the soup with heart-shaped clams;
Tho' light is gone, give thanks; in darkness, praise increase.
Gild lintels; silk-gird chairs; burn candles by the fist;
Salad greens dress in yolks and salted curls of ham;
Friends, marrow each to each; else famine steals the feast.
Honey-spike the squash; with silver eat, bright and greased;
Flood mouths with wine; potatoeswithbutter enjamb;
Tho' light is gone, give thanks; in darkness, praise increase.
Lift turkey, speckled trout and haunch of wilder beast;
From hand to hand, pass blessings with the loin of lamb;
Friends, marrow each to each; else famine steals the feast.
Cling to those beside you, crying, as for a priest;
Drench cake in cream; slather black bread with bursts of jam;
Tho' light is gone, give thanks; in darkness, praise increase.
If sing, full-throated keen; if dance, 'til dawn at least;
Hearts consumed by sorrow are hollowed gram by gram;
Friends, to all be marrow; else famine steals the feast;
Tho' light is gone, give thanks; in darkness, praise increase.
---Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved)
*Marrow:
1. A soft oleaginous substance contained in the cavities of animal bones.
2. The essence; the best part.
3. In the Scottish dialect, a companion; fellow; associate; match.
4. v.t. To fill with marrow or with fat; to glut.
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Elaine at Wild Rose Reader.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Kate Messner: Twitter in the Classroom
I'm not a teacher, so why is it that creative teachers make me soooo happy? And why do articles like Kate Messner's piece in School Library Journal about using Twitter in the classroom make me want to borrow a few eager students for the day just to try out her list of ideas?
I think it's partly because she's so darn organized about it---offering a sample proposal to bring to the administration for approval, a list of Twitter resources, and several concrete examples of how her students benefitted from their use of a new technology. She makes me feel---despite the fact that I have no teaching experience, that I don't know the first thing about school policies, that I don't even have any students, for pity's sake! --- that I could do it too. Which, I guess, is the secret weapon of all great teachers. They inspire us to imagine what we could be.
Disclaimer: Kate opens the article with a story about her class participating in my Twitter chat with editor Cheryl Klein about the creation of OPERATION YES. I'm thrilled about that, but even without my book being mentioned, it would be a fantastic article. Go read!
I think it's partly because she's so darn organized about it---offering a sample proposal to bring to the administration for approval, a list of Twitter resources, and several concrete examples of how her students benefitted from their use of a new technology. She makes me feel---despite the fact that I have no teaching experience, that I don't know the first thing about school policies, that I don't even have any students, for pity's sake! --- that I could do it too. Which, I guess, is the secret weapon of all great teachers. They inspire us to imagine what we could be.
Disclaimer: Kate opens the article with a story about her class participating in my Twitter chat with editor Cheryl Klein about the creation of OPERATION YES. I'm thrilled about that, but even without my book being mentioned, it would be a fantastic article. Go read!
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Let Me Count the Nerdy Ways
How do authors chill out after they make their revision deadline? Let me count the nerdy ways:
1) We find a too-good-to-be true deal on an all-in-one printer, order it in haste, and then worry obsessively when it's delivered while we're gone to the North Carolina mountains for Thanksgiving and it (temporarily) disappears from our front doorstep. We hug our neighbors when we find that they have rescued the box from the rain and have our purchase safely stored for our return. We superstitiously "christen" it by printing out a poem as the first "print job," and then play with the features on our dream machine (it can print graph paper! it can wirelessly connect with my laptop! it can download pictures from a Bluetooth camera--if I had one!) and wish we writers also came with a "Remove Red Eye" button for those late writing nights.
2) We write villanelles with our Poetry Sisters, agreeing that we must use the words "friends" and "thanksgiving." We don't have to use iambic pentameter, but we do. We don't have to fiddle with it lovingly, but we do. We know that other people would think this homework, but we consider it fun, right up there with paging through food catalogs that sell gourmet bacon and licorice from Australia. We count the days until this Poetry Friday when all seven Poetry Sister villanelles will be revealed at once...
3) We read lists. We love ones with titles like "Over 200 movies about the writing life" (compiled by author Susan Taylor Brown.) And "Bookish Holiday Gifts: A Selection of Finds From Etsy."
4) Instead of cleaning our desks, we blog about silly things (in a list format, of course.) Then we go clean our desks. Really. We do.
1) We find a too-good-to-be true deal on an all-in-one printer, order it in haste, and then worry obsessively when it's delivered while we're gone to the North Carolina mountains for Thanksgiving and it (temporarily) disappears from our front doorstep. We hug our neighbors when we find that they have rescued the box from the rain and have our purchase safely stored for our return. We superstitiously "christen" it by printing out a poem as the first "print job," and then play with the features on our dream machine (it can print graph paper! it can wirelessly connect with my laptop! it can download pictures from a Bluetooth camera--if I had one!) and wish we writers also came with a "Remove Red Eye" button for those late writing nights.
2) We write villanelles with our Poetry Sisters, agreeing that we must use the words "friends" and "thanksgiving." We don't have to use iambic pentameter, but we do. We don't have to fiddle with it lovingly, but we do. We know that other people would think this homework, but we consider it fun, right up there with paging through food catalogs that sell gourmet bacon and licorice from Australia. We count the days until this Poetry Friday when all seven Poetry Sister villanelles will be revealed at once...
3) We read lists. We love ones with titles like "Over 200 movies about the writing life" (compiled by author Susan Taylor Brown.) And "Bookish Holiday Gifts: A Selection of Finds From Etsy."
4) Instead of cleaning our desks, we blog about silly things (in a list format, of course.) Then we go clean our desks. Really. We do.
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