Power Prompts

Nov. 16, my 68th journey around the sun begins today. Yesterday, Food and Wine magazine arrived and it sort of flopped open to a fold out that sent my imagination into overdrive. Look at the power prompts that stimulate sensual thinking and feeling for engaging the imagination for journal writing, even new poems. "Supercharge your senses." "Host a blind tasting" which I alter to, "Host a poetry tasting." "Value vs Splurge" I change to, Duty vs Dessert First. Quote from the Infiniti ad: "Performance measured as much in heart rate as it is in horsepower." I can alter to: Sensual poetry -- performance measured as much in heart rate as in mind power. AD reads: Pick scents for an aroma party ( to compare wine scents with the actual food scent they imitate. I alter it to: Pick scents for an aroma POETRY party. Ad audio ad: An audio experience crafted to reproduce the richness and clarity of a live performance. AND this ad lien prompts me to say: The live performance of the elm tree branches clattering in the autumn breeze; the song of the mother finch heard by the unborn chick inside the egg; the hum of mother to the child in the placenta, oh the music of the world, my toes talking to themselves, . . . see what I mean? open any magazine, or the newspaper, and you will see ad lines and head lines that if you alter a word, can stimulate writing that can be a fun exercise, or even lead to a poem. Exercise writing? yes, athletes lift weights all week long, but not out on the playing field. Poets lift up pens and perform exercise writing, so that when the poem arrives, we have the language skills to score with. Cheers. Oh, by the way, I made a poetry house call, with Mary, on Sunday, to a friend's home, as he was hosting a book reading group, and had a marvelous time sharing poems, and delicious food, and very stimulating conversations. You poets out there, try making a poetry house call, and you poetry aficionados, host a poet in your home with a poetry house party. Cheers. Ciletti

Joe Hutchison's Workshop

Today I salute Joe Hutchison for his splendid workshop and reading for Poetry West, here in Colorado Springs. Joe's workshop included a sharing of how the "turn" in a poem, to create a new direction in the poem, supports the structure of the content. His use of Frost's "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" provided numerous examples of how the "turn" kept the poem moving forward to richer and richer meaning. Most of all, I loved the authentic resonance of Joe's voice in the readings of his own poems. Cheers to you Joe, you are an excellent example and inspiration for us all. Joe Hutchison, living in Indian Hills, Colorado, is a veteran poet to the Colorado Poetry scene. His email is joe@jhwriter.com, and his wonderful blog is http://www.perpetualbird.blogspot.com/.

A Day In The Life Of A Poet

Yesterday, a wonderful audience of 6th thru 10th grade at MacLaren Charter School here in Colorado Srings. Afterwards, a 6th grade student asked me if I wanted to hear one of her poems and I said yes. She said, "First I was a seed, and then I sprouted, and then I became a flower, now I'm a seed again." I praised her for the lovely words and the idea within them, and then her mother arrived and she hurried away before I could get her name. And driving home Rumi's words came to mind, "For ten thousand years I was a mineral. The I was eaten by a plant and for ten thousand years I was a plant. Until I was eaten by an animal, and for ten thousand years I was an animal, until I was eaten by a man. Note, how Rumi's poem dead ends with death by man. But the girl's poem continues the life cycle.

October Poem

With this wind humming in the wires I'd like to know what was whispered in the ears of the leaves that made then screech to yellow then blush to red. What was said to the bear to traipse off and curl up into a black ball to ignore us all and snooze until spring? What was said to my hair to make it change from brown to white and who knows why the sky is blue? But I know this, the garlic I planted on Sunday will simmer in pasta sauce next summer. The basil I harvested this morning will dry from green to bluish-brown and tang our salads all winter. As for the wind, no one talks to the wind.

Emerson's affections quote

So many life duties, distractions, planting garlic, picking the last of the ripe tomatoes, laying floor tile to finish the entry-way, going to the junk yard for truck parts, left my hat there, under some rusting hulk -- excuses. But, I think of Emerson's quote, "The moment we indulge our affections, the earth is metamorphosed, there is no winter and no night, all tragedies, all ennui's, vanish -- all duties even."

Let me share with you a thought from Rumi, which I use to encourage myself to go out a write Plein Air and stay engaged in the world. "Don't run around this world looking for a place to hide in." Rumi. Let me share with you a few Poet Laureate experiences from this week. On Monday I gave a seven minute performance at the Chamber of Commerce/COPPeR arts awards luncheon. What a challenge and joy to share poetry with 300 business men and women and civic leaders. At luncheons, often, when speakers are talking, the audience keeps eating and talking and there is a lot of noise. When I read, there was absolute silence. Since then I have received numerous congratulations from men and women. I share this not to toot my own horn but to encourage all poets to practice oral presentations and to see themselves as having a gift that others do want to share in. Wanting to end on a humorous note I closed with my zucchini poem: Zucchinis flower Growing so many green fruits -- Tonight, lock your doors. This brought good laughter and long applause as I stepped off the podium. Exiting, a couple came up to me, "We loved the zucchini poem. We had a fund raiser and zucchini was in the silent auction -- whomever made the highest bid did not have to take home any zucchini." On Wednesday, at the bequest of English department chair Dave Reynolds, I gave a poetry performance/reading to the all school assembly at Fountain Valley School. A wonderful and appreciative audience of 300 students and staff. I selected poems about being a teenager but because of the season of autumn I also read the Julesberg, Fall Harvest poem. Later, in the workshop, a student told me how much she loved that poem. I thanked her and told her I wrote that poem 40 years ago and her eyes widened open -- and I said, "yes, 40 years ago -- good poems are timeless." Thank you for reading.

Fantastic Poets

At the end of this ramble is today's writing "sensating the poem" exercise, a brief one, from what I used in my workshop on Saturday. First: What a week of poetry this has been, performing at Blissfest in Manitou, then on Saturday giving a "sensating the poem" workshop for the Authorfest of the Manitou Springs Library -- a wonderful group of writers attended and then Saturday evening, hosted by Aaron Anstett, went to a performance by Colorado's western slope pre-eminent poets, Art Goodtimes and Rosemerry Trommer. They were fantastic -- best poetry performance I've been to in years. With poetry in other languages, poems sung by Rosemerry, chanted by Art, some performed together, they slapped my ears with wonderful word power, awakened new energy for writing, and stole my heart. I regret, not being able to video-tape them to use their performance as a teaching tool. Benefit: New resources and joy: Rosemerry has a website, http://www.wordwoman.com/ and Art, "aka, thunderbear" just google Art Goodtimes poet and you'll find him. Today, at lunch, I will perform three poems for the Business and the Arts awards luncheon, before 300 people, at the Antlers Hotel. Scared. I shiver. Cannot eat before performing. Remind myself, this is about the audience, not your ego. Give them accessible poems, celebrate life, share the magic of words. Exercise: Write down three experience that were or are important to you. Then pick one, then describe what: it looks like, feels like, smells like, tastes like, and sounds like. Write several images for each sense. Then write a sensate narrative description rich with these images. Third: add the reason what prompted you to write about this in the first place, that sixth sense, then re-write it one more time, start with a TITLE, and flow with your feeling words into a sensate poem. Creativity is in the doing. Write.

First House Call

Last night I made my first Poetry House Call. But first a note about Plein Air Poetry Writing. Yesterday, sitting at the patio table, observing honey bees gorging themselves on the split open juicy over-ripe peach in front of me, I was writing a still life of peaches, as would an impressionist painter, and the bees seduced me. I wrote a long description of their behavior, drilling proboscises into the nectar, their black bell boy caps, quivering stripped prisoner abdomens, and finally asked myself, why are you writing about these bees and I wrote, "I love these bees, nudging themselves into this peach." And wham, that's it, I can write the second draft, third draft, drill into the peach of the poem -- why -- because I know why I want to write about the bees. I know my passion and that will fuel the writing. LAST NIGHT, at seven last night, Mary and I went to a friend's home for my first Poetry House Call. Charlie and Robin had invited four couples and spread out appetizers and desserts. I started with a brief reading of my Words as Mirrors piece, about how poetry let's us look into our heart the way x-ray shows us our bones. Then guests shared some of their favorite poems, by of course, Frost, Poe, Stevenson, Mansfield, Sato, etc. I shared some of mine, shared my journal with notes, news clippings, power prompts (words or phrases cut from magazines and pasted to a page to use as a writing prompt) -- to encourage the guests to start journaling, putting down memoirs for their children and grandchildren, and perhaps, working at a poem or two. Everyone became engaged, telling stories about writing poems in high school and summer camp, the guest who had read Mansfield's "down to the sea again" had been a sailor -- the guest who had read Poe's "Bells" had had a thrilling experience of the poem with a high school teacher. The point, everyone had a significant connection with poetry. The evening was like a dream come true. A mini-salon with everyone invested in their experience and love for poetry. And, we all have new information about one another that enriches our friendships. WE CLOSED with me passing around a copy of my book of poems, SUNFIRE, for each guest to sign and annotate and we gave this book to our hosts, Charlie and Robin. Poetry House Calls: Fellow poets, try it, you'll like it. Readers: invite a poet for a poetry house call. You'll love it.

I am haunted by these words by Wallace Stevens, "After one had abandoned a belief in God, poetry is that essence which takes its place as life's redemption."

Sept. 28, 2010 Plein Air

Vacation is over -- well, wasn't really a vacation, building a digging and pouring concrete piers for the posts to hold up the headers for the new deck and then building the new deck, plus all the other work involved. And now, wine-making, etc. HOWEVER, no excuses, and I will be working my blog on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. ALSO, when I started this blog I told myself that I was not going to force myself to write something everyday, and that I will not write for the sake of writing, no babbling. Last week I gave a three minute poetry presentation at the fund raising breakfast for the Justice and Peace commission -- and I encourage other poets to engage in community affairs. I firmly believe that if we are to re-birth alove of poetry that we must be out in the community and sharing poems that are accessible to our audiences. WRITING POETRY: When I feel like I am getting into a rut, or sitting at my desk and pulling hairbrained poems out of my cerebellum, whatever, I like to take my journal and pen and some crayons and go outside and do some plein air writing, and practice my ability to look, listen, smell, taste, and feel where I am and what the environment surrounding me is in its being. And once I find something that attracts me, I work at simple description, like I would if I were doing a sketch for a painting. If I really connect, than I write a second draft, fill in the colors so to speak, and if I feel like this could be a poem, I ask myself, "What captured me, what made me write about this in the first place?" And that "sixth sense of it all, whether it be a sense ofbeauty, a sense of fecudity of the harvest, simplicity, generosity of nature, etc. Once I lock onto that, I can move into the third draft and have that sixth sense weave in and out and breathe oxygen into the poem. 1. Simple observations plein air. (Get out of your head and be with a real world) golden slats of cedar pickets surrouding the deck maple tree branches shading the redwood planking cool air goose bumping my arms air as clear as pure water the empty green chair beside me 2. the lush green green leaves of the potted basil plant pinch a leaf, that aroma, as one friend said, almost a sexual experience; another potted plant and the purple trumpets of its flowers I dont't sit here often enough. 3. What is the pull: the deck enjoys itself much more than do I. So much green. Lorca's green, "verde, verde, te quierde verde." green green I want you green. And so, we'll see where that goes. Cheers. P.S. Wednesday evening I am making a "house call" -- going to a friends home to enjoy reciting poems to her friends, and having a glass of wine and dessert. Poets out there, make a house call, you'll love it, so will your friends.