Wednesday, 04 February 2009

  • Poeeemzz

    So, yeah, it's been forever.  Again, school's in full swing, and I've finished gen eds, so I'm moving on to lots of classes with lots of reading and writing.  In in a one-week poetry seminar with Beth Ann Fennelly (poet and professor at Old Miss) as my professor, and I gotta say that I'm having a blast.  Today will be the halfway point, and I'm kinda sad it's already half-over!  Ah well.  I'm learning a lot, and since I'm having to miss out on British Lit and Fiction Writing because of schedule conflicts, I'll be glad when I don't feel so behind.

    Anyway, we've been writing poems every day for homework, and I'm really happy with the one I wrote last night.  Dr. Fennelly says that we'll be workshopping a poem of our choice, and unless I crank out something amazing tonight, it'll probably be this one.  I thought, just for curiosity's sake, I would post the original up then the workshopped one.

    D-Daddy

    Little fascinated fingertips
    were curious
    about the hair
    on your leather arms
    hugging my neck
    while I leaned against
    your sagging chest
    as we sat on the church pew.
    A forest covering a desert
    with black boulders
    of old blood
    and brown puddles
    of perfect imperfection.
    The limbless trees
    bent at my breath,
    but when I pushed them
    against your grain,
    they did not fall;
    and when I tried
    to pull them from the roots,
    they did not come,
    but instead
    formed tiny mountains
    under every tree
    and slid through
    the grooves of my
    little fascinated fingertips.

    We talked about metaphor/simile/analogy yesterday in class, and our assignment was to write a poem that used a metaphor describing a time when someone/thing touched someone/thing else and to make the "fleetingness of the moment permanent in art."  This one was the first thing that came to mind.  I forget if I wrote about this here or not, but when I was very little, there was an old man who went to worship with my family and who absolutely loved me and I him.  I called him D-Daddy, and he died when I was seven years old.  I only remember certain things about him, and one of the things I remember most clearly is what the poem describes.  :)

    Oh, and by the way, if you're in the middle Tennessee area this Friday, come check out a poetry reading/book signing/reception for Beth Ann Fennelly from 4:00-6:30 at the MTSU Martin Honors Building!  All the students of the class will be reading our final poems, so you can hear me give a reading of a poem, too!  If you need more info, let me know.  Thanks, as always, for your support! :D

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