Blog Archives

Cooking & Conjuring

10/29/2020

Cooking is conjuring, isn't it? Intentioned items are combined in the pot, in the skillet, over the fire. There is energy in food preparation as well as in the food, and there is certainly energy in conjuring. Be careful what you whip up over the open flame, am I right?

First Mentor Poem

Truth Serum
NAOMI SHIHAB NYE

We made it from the ground-up corn in the old back pasture.
Pinched a scent of night jasmine billowing off the fence,
popped it right in.
That frog song wanting nothing but echo?
We used that.
Stirred it widely. Noticed the clouds while stirring.
Called upon our ancient great aunts and their long slow eyes
of summer. Dropped in their names.
Added a mint leaf now and then
to hearten the broth. Added a note of cheer and worry.
Orange butterfly between the claps of thunder?
Perfect. And once we had it,
had smelled and tasted the fragrant syrup,
placing the pan on a back burner for keeping,
the sorrow lifted in small ways.
We boiled down the lies in another pan till they disappeared.
We washed that pan.

Source: Poetry Out Loud

Poem Prompt #1

Write a poem explaining a truth that needs to be known.
Or, free write about a truth needs to be told? What elements of that scene could go into a concocted “truth serum”? Write that last part in a poem.
In poem form, write a recipe for “lifting sorrow.”
In poem form, write a recipe for eliciting truth.

Second Mentor Poem

Witches speech in Macbeth
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Act IV, Scene I

The three witches, casting a spell
Round about the cauldron go;
In the poison’d entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone
Days and nights hast thirty one
Swelter’d venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witches’ mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse,
Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips,
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver’d by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron,
For the ingredients of our cauldron.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Poem Prompt #2

Write a conjuring poem, a poem about winding up “a charm.”
Consider the use of sound in your list of ingredients, or their symbolic presence.

GROUP POEM !

A Cauldron Poem (for Christine)
POETRYBONES WRITING GROUP

For Discussion

Cooking Lesson
MARGARET BENBOW

Source: Poetry Foundation

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Oh My Hair

10/22/2020

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Image by graphic artist Annalise Batista

First Mentor Poem

Smoke in Our Hair
OFELIA ZEPEDA

The scent of burning wood holds
the strongest memory.
Mesquite, cedar, piñon, juniper,
all are distinct.
Mesquite is dry desert air and mild winter.
Cedar and piñon are colder places.
Winter air in our hair is pulled away,
and scent of smoke settles in its place.
We walk around the rest of the day
with the aroma resting on our shoulders.
The sweet smell holds the strongest memory.
We stand around the fire.
The sound of the crackle of wood and spark
is ephemeral.
Smoke, like memories, permeates our hair,
our clothing, our layers of skin.
The smoke travels deep
to the seat of memory.
We walk away from the fire;
no matter how far we walk,
we carry this scent with us.
New York City, France, Germany--
we catch the scent of burning wood;
we are brought home.

Source: poetryfoundation.org

Poem Prompt #1

Write about a smell that lingers in your (or someone’s) hair.
Write about the three most memory-inducing smells in your life.

Second Mentor Poem

Hair Poem
DANA NAONE

One morning a woman woke up,
but couldn’t get out of bed.
During the night her hair
had grown through the floor
Her husband tried cutting
the strands loose
only to find that the more he cut,
the more it grew.
He dug a hole beneath their house.
There was a man in an underground cave
playing a musical instrument
strung with hair.
Every song made the hair grow longer.
The husband poured water
on the man’s head
three times from a chalice
engraved with a bird flying upside down.
The strings of the harp turned white.
The man closed his eyes.

Source: The Remembered Earth: An Anthology of Contemporary Native American Literature. University of New Mexico Press (April 1, 1981)

Poem Prompt #2

Write a fantastical poem about hair. Write for 10 minutes

OR take a cue form these poem titles: cutting hair, hair on television, my hair, red haired mask, black hair, white haired lover, white hair does not weight more than black hair, angel hair, bad hair day, hairbrush, his mothers hair, braiding your hair, hairless.

For Discussion

Hairless
JO SHAPCOTT

Can the bald lie? The nature of the skin says not:
it's newborn-pale, erection-tender stuff,
every thought visible,—pure knowledge,
mind in action—shining through the skull.
I saw one, a woman, hairless absolute, cleaning.
She mopped the green floor, dusted bookshelves,
all cloth and concentration, Queen of the moon.
You can tell, with the bald, that the air
speaks to them differently, touches their heads
with exquisite expression. As she danced
her laundry dance with the motes, everything
she ever knew skittered under her scalp.
It was clear just from the texture of her head,
she was about to raise her arms to the sky;
I covered my ears as she prepared to sing, roar,
to let the big win resonate in the little room.

Source: poetryfoundation.org

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Witches & Keepsakes

10/15/2020

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Incantation image by Ann Milovidova

First Mentor Poem

After He Called Her a Witch
SUSAN LUDVIGSON

Source: poetryfoundation.org

"The Orange Seller" Enrique Serra (oil on canvas)

Writing Prompt #1

Tell me about a witch, a bruja, a magical person. OR, tell me about getting even. Write a poem or a free write for 10 minutes. Ready? Go!

Second Mentor Poem

Keepsakes
RODDY LUMSDEN

Aerial view of Ushuaia from Martial Glacier, Tierra del Fuego SOURCE: steppestravel.com

Writing Prompt #2

Write about a keepsake.
OR
After a hardship, tell me, what did you do to recover? Where do you go to recover?

For Discussion

Louise Glück has just won the Nobel Prize for Literature (Oct. 2020), so I wanted to feature a work in our discussion session that is a perfect standout for this week's theme as well, "Witchgrass."

Witchgrass
LOUISE GLÜCK
Something
comes into the world unwelcome
calling disorder, disorder–

If you hate me so much
don’t bother to give me
a name: do you need
one more slur
in your language, another
way to blame
one tribe for everything–

as we both know,
if you worship
one god, you only need
one enemy–

I’m not the enemy.
Only a ruse to ignore
what you see happening
right here in this bed,
a little paradigm
of failure. One of your precious flowers
dies here almost every day
and you can’t rest until
you attack the cause, meaning

whatever is left, whatever
happens to be sturdier
than your personal passion–

It was not meant
to last forever in the real world.
But why admit that, when you can go on
doing what you always do,
mourning and laying blame,
always the two together.

I don’t need your praise
to survive. I was here first,
before you were here, before
you ever planted a garden.
And I’ll be here when only the sun and moon
are left, and the sea, and the wide field.

I will constitute the field.

Source: apoemaday.tumblr.com

Listen to the poet read "Witchgrass" here.

The New Yorker has referred to her as a "Whisperer of the Seasons" in this lovely article, exploring how Gluck returns to "seasons, our oldest metaphors," in order "to divine the texture of our inner life."

This isn't the first time PoetryBones has been inspired by or studied Louise Glück; see her appearances in the PoetryBones Supernatural Experiences and I Killed for You sessions, featuring "All Hallows" and "Gretel in Darkness," respectively.

Lastly, I appreciate M Ayodele Heath's analysis of "Witchgrass" here.

Another witch poem -- a compendium of all the things said of witches, the things believed, accused, even organically embodied, simply by being female -- in other words, perhaps, the feminine mystique. Do you recognize the many historical allusions?

The Witch
ELIZABETH WILLIS

A witch can charm milk from an ax handle.

A witch bewitches a man's shoe.

A witch sleeps naked.

"Witch ointment" on the back will allow you to fly through the air.

A witch carries the four of clubs in her sleeve.

A witch may be sickened at the scent of roasting meat.

A witch will neither sink nor swim.

When crushed, a witch's bones will make a fine glue.

A witch will pretend not to be looking at ber own image in a window.

A witch will gaze wistfully at the glitter of a clear night.

A witch may take the form of a cat in order to sneak into a good man's
chamber.

A witch's breasts will be pointed rather than round, as discovered in
the trials of the 1950s.

A powerful witch may cause a storm at sea.

With a glance, she will make rancid the fresh butter of her righteous
neighbor.

Even our fastest dogs cannot catch a witch-hare.

A witch has been known to cry out while her husband places inside her
the image of a child.

A witch may be burned for tying knots in a marriage bed.

A witch may produce no child for years at a time.

A witch may speak a foreign language to no one in particular.

She may appear to frown when she believes she is smiling.

If her husband dies unexpectedly, she may refuse to marry his brother.

A witch has been known to weep at the sight of her own child.

She may appear to be acting in a silent film whose placards are
missing

In Hollywood the sky is made of tin.

A witch makes her world of air, then fire, then the planets. Of
cardboard, then ink, then a compass.

A witch desires to walk rather than be carried or pushed in a cart.

When walking a witch will turn suddenly and pretend to look at
something very small.

The happiness of an entire house maybe ruined by witch hair
touching a metal cross.

The devil does not speak to a witch. He only moves his tongue.

An executioner may find the body of a witch insensitive to an iron spike.

An unrepentant witch may be converted with a frttle lead in the eye.

Enchanting witchpowder may be hidden in a girl's hair.

When a witch is hungry, she can make a soup by stirring water with
her hand.

I have heard of a poor woman changing herself into a pigeon.

At times a witch will seem to struggle against an unknown force
stronger than herself.

She will know things she has not seen with her eyes. She will have
opinions about distant cities.

A witch may cry out sharply at the sight of a known criminal dying of
thirst.

She finds it difficult to overcome the sadness of the last war.

A nightmare is witchwork.

The witch elm is sometimes referred to as "all heart." As in, "she was
thrown into a common chest of witch elm."

When a witch desires something that is not hers, she will slip it into her glove.

An overwhelming power compels her to take something from a rich
man's shelf.

I have personally known a nervous young woman who often walked in
her sleep.

Isn't there something witchlike about a sleepwalker who wanders
through the house with matches?

The skin of a real witch makes a delicate binding for a book of common prayer.

When all the witches in your town have been set on fire, their smoke
will fill your mouth. It will teach you new words. It will tell you what
you've done.

Source: poetryfoundation.org

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Want & Do

10/8/2020

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Image by Ödeldödel on Pixabay

Writing Prompt #1

What do you want? Be selfish, be carnal, be utilitarian, be altruistic, be brutal, soft, or easy. Say what it is you want. Write for 10 minutes. Ready? Go.

~ After the free write, can you pare down your "want" to four lines? Study the Grimke poem below for guidance. ~

First Mentor Poem

The Want of You
ANGELINA WELD GRIMKÉ
A hint of gold where the moon will be;
Through the flocking clouds just a star or two;
Leaf sounds, soft and wet and hushed,
And oh! the crying want of you.

Grimke is the young, Black, gifted, queer, Harlem Renaissance writer . . . you never heard of.
Read more about her in Dr. Bill Lipsky's article it the San Francisco Bay Times LGBTQ newsletter.

Writing Prompt #2

Write “ This is what you shall do . . .” to whomever you want. Write for 10 minutes.

Second Mentor Poem

Image Source: Burgin Matthews at burginmathews.com

For Discussion

Today, Oct. 8, 2020, Louise Gluck was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. In homage, and in thematic alignment, this poem.

The Red Poppy
LOUISE GLÜCK
The great thing
is not having
a mind. Feelings:
oh, I have those; they
govern me. I have
a lord in heaven
called the sun, and open
for him, showing him
the fire of my own heart, fire
like his presence.
What could such glory be
if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters,
were you like me once, long ago,
before you were human? Did you
permit yourselves
to open once, who would never
open again? Because in truth
I am speaking now
the way you do. I speak
because I am shattered.

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...the boost your writing practice needs

Cooking & Conjuring

First Mentor Poem

Poem Prompt #1

Second Mentor Poem

Poem Prompt #2

GROUP POEM !

For Discussion

Oh My Hair

First Mentor Poem

Poem Prompt #1

Second Mentor Poem

Poem Prompt #2

For Discussion

Witches & Keepsakes

First Mentor Poem

Writing Prompt #1

Second Mentor Poem

Writing Prompt #2

For Discussion

Want & Do

Writing Prompt #1

First Mentor Poem

Writing Prompt #2

Second Mentor Poem

For Discussion

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