Happy Birthday, Emily Dickinson!

To Emily: In honor of our shared birthday, I am once again posting my poem for you (although without the former last stanza). 

Carving Words into Wood

Living In Your Shadow

Sometimes I feel like Emily Dickinson’s shadow,

forbidden to flatter myself or flounce my dress, ink-

stained cheeks force isolation, denied

a paperless life, required to sit with legs

held tight, be a lady, hands designed

to shovel gritty pain from each

word, uncover gassy explosions,

reveal bulbous traits, onions I pull up from mossy

carpeting in my lived-in room.

Sometimes I feel like Emily Dickinson’s shadow,

locked inside dusty dictionary, tossing words back

and forth, Walt Whitman sitting on opposite page, pencil

behind his perceptive brow, relax, let the words come

as they may, be what they want, no ulterior

meanings, deliver them to the world.

Sometimes I feel like Emily Dickinson’s shadow,

my feet, a lamp base, my eyes the switch, hands

dangling down, tendrils of a spying plant

that reads each word, wavering in the windstorm

caused by this game of catch

with vocabulary.

* * * * *

Living In Your Shadow - A Poem and An Announcement

When I was a child, I felt disappointment that I shared a birthday with Emily Dickinson. I didn’t understand her poetry and felt she was old-fashioned. Ha! Hey, remember, I was a kid.

 

Last fall, I joined the Modern & Contemporary American Poetry course through Coursera, which happened to have Emily Dickinson on the syllabus.

 

I wound up letting the class fall by the wayside while I tended to other more pressing commitments. But not before I learned a bit more about Ms. Dickinson.

 

I decided I kind of like the gal. Now I see we have some things in common.

 

And so this was born, a poem I wrote as a joke. Even so, I kind of like it:

Interpreting Emily's Poetry

 Living In Your Shadow

Sometimes I feel like Emily Dickinson’s shadow,

forbidden to flatter myself or flounce my dress, ink-

stained cheeks force isolation, denied

a paperless life, required to sit with legs

held tight, be a lady, hands designed

to shovel gritty pain from each

word, uncover gassy explosions,

reveal bulbous traits, onions I pull up from mossy

carpeting in my lived-in room.

Sometimes I feel like Emily Dickinson’s shadow,

locked inside dusty dictionary, tossing words back

and forth, Walt Whitman sitting on opposite page, pencil

behind his perceptive brow, relax, let the words come

as they may, be what they want, no ulterior

meanings, deliver them to the world.

Sometimes I feel like Emily Dickinson’s shadow,

my feet, a lamp base, my eyes the switch, hands

dangling down, tendrils of a spying plant

that reads each word, wavering in the windstorm

caused by this game of catch

with vocabulary.

Sometimes I feel like Emily Dickinson’s shadow.

And sometimes my poetry just sucks.

+++++

So did you like that last line? I guess I was a frustrated writer that day.

Another memory that stands from my childhood is the frequent occurrence of a particular career recommendation that often came up in career quizzes and astrologically-predicted career paths.

Which career? The publishing field. Yes, it was another thing I balked at. I never saw myself enjoying what I do now; running Mouse Tales Press literary magazine.

If you are a friend of mine on Facebook, you will probably know that, a day or so ago, I promised an announcement. 

Please visit the Mouse Tales Press blog to read more. (Er, uh, well, visit it soon. I still need to write that up.)

Have a nice evening!

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More Poetry News to Make Me Spark(le)

Okay, I wasn’t going to write this tonight, but that little voice in my head kept nagging me.

First, let me tell you about some upcoming classes with my (former) teacher, Christina Burress. She will again be teaching an online “Forms of Poetry” class through UCSD Extension in the spring.

If you live in San Diego, she is also teaching a “live” class:

Modern American Poetry: A World of Wonders

Dive into the rich and wonderful world of modern American poetry, from the 19th-century greats, Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman, to 20th-century masters, to the experimental poetry of our own time. In this unusual class, we’ll combine in-class discussion, creative writing exercises, and easy-to-understand interpretive approaches with Al Filreis’s popular online lectures from the U. of Pennsylvania that attracted 30,000 students from around the world. Read, encounter and discuss a wide range of extraordinary American poetry in an engaging and inspiring environment that encourages collaboration and creativity. Be part of the amazing renaissance of poetry occurring around you right now. Discover how easy it is to make poetry an essential pleasure in your life, both as reader and as creator. No prior knowledge of poetry is necessary.

IN-CLASS
Instructor: Christina Burress
Section: 094548 Course No. LIT-40087
Time/Date: M 6:30-8:45 p.m., Apr. 8-Jun. 3; no mtg. May 27 (8 mtgs.)
Location: UCSD Extension University City Ctr. Room 301, 6256 Greenwich Dr., San Diego
Credit: 2 units in Literature
Fee: $250 ($225 if enrolled by Mar. 11).
No refunds after: Apr. 12

*****

Okay, now on to the news I mentioned on Facebook earlier today.

This morning, I got another poetry acceptance. One of my favorite poems, “Becoming,” was accepted by Spark: A Creative Anthology.

I don’t know yet when it will be published, but the news is helping to nudge me along on my submission journey. Thanks for reading!


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