Village Books Poetry Group: P.I.P.

VBPG site title photo artist DONA REED:
Hand-pulled Relief Print, “Squabbling Ravens” Please visit her site: http://www.rainshadow-arts.com

Village Books Poetry Group is a fine place to bring in a PIP = poem in progress.  Last Thursday I shared this new poem “PEW” with my group.  One line in the poem started an interesting conversation.  The line is  “Mid service she wiggles like bacon in a hot pan”.  Some thought it didn’t fit, others said it was “an incredible turning point”.

Being apart of a writing group helps you to think outside the work.  Your writing friends can give you a new perspective on work you maybe too deep into to notice.  I find it a most helpful tool.  Whether you write, non-fiction, fantasy, novels or poems, I encourage you to seek out a writing group.  If there isn’t one in your area, start one.

Here is my poem in it’s original form:

PEW
She sits still at first
Coat on, legs crossed, hair in place
I do not know her name
her smile properly friendly
as she shares the peace
Peace be with you-
-and also with you
Mid service she wiggles like bacon in a hot pan
Her focus moves about the sanctuary; forward, then down at her lap,
the back of the pew, left toward a noisy toddler, then at the ring on her finger.
The ring receives the most attention
the corner of my eye catches repetitive moment
her hand out atop her knee, twirling the ring
round
round
her thumb and forefinger
again
again
Finally, her thoughts become action
Arm reaches for the spine
of  a hymnal laying on it’s back
gone sideways from first service
with a quick flip she corrects
it upright, front forward
Her fingers now at rest,
she turns to smile
This was something easy to fix

If you live in the Bellingham area, or would like more informaiton about how to start a writing group in your area, contact me:  splawssji@yahoo.com

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/VBpoetrygroup/
www.rainshadow-arts.com

Poetry: Ghostly Eyes

Waking up always
Same time on the clock
Walk through my house
Steps on an unchanging track
I see you
A solid mass
Your feet touch the ground
grasp the earth
My specter form floats by
Unperceived by the blind
Ignored by the angry
Forgotten by the busy
I remember what living was like
I see you all
From my ghostly eyes
Orbs of mist
And compromise

~A spooky poem from my 2010 collection
S.P. Laws

Poetry: Puppeteer

Puppeteer
You turn me
Like a camera setting
Normal to negative
With a click
My voice modulates
To your ear
High tones dialed down
Pitch bent skewed
You hand me a script
Q and A for the party
Lists topics to avoid
People I may talk to
How do I look?
You look me over
Black evening dress
Hair up, heels high
Proper posture
Oh, you forgot these…
I touch my ears,
Barren of drops, and smile.
You turn to reach inside a drawer
And pull out strings.
“Marionette Series” Oil on canvas
by Sarah Dixon

Poetry: Him

HIM
When she thinks of him she smiles

When he stands in front of her 

She sees him as an old man

Still standing there
That look in his eyes
In front of her, smiling
“Could he stay there, with me, that long?
Could I know him ‘till he goes gray?”
Sometimes I wish I could tell him “I love you”
But it’s still too early, only SUMMER
Instead I say “I was thinking of you”
Everyone wants to be thought of
I want to sleep with you!
The bed warm
I want to wake with you!
The next morning
Like the couple I think we could be
Is it too early to feel this?
Yes, it’s only FALL
Time continues hearts come closer
As the snow hugs the earth
Conversation over a meal
Sitting quietly watching a movie
Lying next to you listening to you breathe
It’s only WINTER and this life imagined…
In a year I’ll try to say “I love you”
Like a woman tries on a blouse
Like a young bird trying its wings
Like a child stacking blocks
Building a house, needing a home
I LOVE YOU
…and I’ll tell you in the SPRING

****


Poetry: W Stafford

January 17th is William Stafford’s birthday.  If you live in the Bellingham area please consider dropping by Village Books that Tuesday for some poetry reading of Williams. 

Williams was a true American poet.  Some interesting facts about his life:  his first major book of poetry was published when he was forty-eight years old and in 1970 he was appointed the twentieth Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress.  

Here is one of my favorite poems:

A Ritual To Read To Each Other

If you don’t know the kind of person I am
and I don’t know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant’s tail,
but if one wanders the circus won’t find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider–
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give–yes or no, or maybe–
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

“I keep following this sort of hidden river of my life, you know, whatever the topic or impulse which comes, I follow it along trustingly. And I don’t have any sense of its coming to a kind of crescendo, or of its petering out either. It is just going steadily along.”   
Happy Birthday William Stafford
January 17, 1914 – August 28, 1993
*

PAD: Life Hike

Day 4 of Writers Digest Poem A Day~
I will call it:  LIFE HIKE
Hiking a broken trail
beneath green branches
fanned out over me
blocking the sky
how close to life it feels
Hard walk atop embedded rocks
soles rub exposed roots
soil no longer covers 

sunlight filters through
spotlights on ancient ferns

Head turns right
an opening sits plumb
Door to a perspective
not yet known
Curiosity rules here

Veer towards new
step over a fallen tree
through ferns rib high
unexpected vista fills the frame

Another world
trails smooth and gentle
a river glides along
wide high blue open
…the easy way

Why have I stayed in the forest
stomping atop rocks that twist my ankles
when open fields were just off the path?

*For today’s prompt, write a poem about finding something unexpected.   Robert Lee Brewer
http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poetry-prompts/2011-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-4

Poetry: Look

Look!

Straight on
Into another’s face
You see only what
They want you to see
Familiarity brings a
Corrected angle
Light deflecting
Mirror to mirror
Boucing ‘round
Just a shimmer
Of character
Form discoveries
Peter Pan’s shadow
It needs to be nailed down
Look again!
There you are
Just another
Every peek into the eyes
Moves me closer to an explanation
“When will I see more?”
“After” you jest
Patience is needed in this game
Light exposure brings focus
Not perfection

***

Poetry: Two Love Poems


Here are a two love poems I’m working on for a contest.
Spicy hot!

Saturdays Song
Sunny Saturday
Beams filter through
The sheer curtained window
Onto the stage of us;
A bed of messy covers

Softly, gently
you sing and strum
I lie next to you and listen
watching your fingers move

Our song of love
Fills the room
Our hearts
Our minds
Mix in the melody

Your fingers travel down
the cords of my spine
“Play me, love me
Like you loved that song”

…and you do

Dream of a Lover
I dreamed of you
Once before this time
I knew you before
Once before this life

Your walk and smile
Your eyes and caress
Your mind and spirit

Two pieces missing
For life times
Coming together at last