[stylist] New Prompt, Poem & Photos

Sun Aug 2 21:36:03 UTC 2015

So is there a purpose to the cinquaine? I mean like the Haiku is usually
nature related. Does the cinquain need to come from anywhere particular? I
might try my hand at it.
Eve

 President, National Federation of the Blind Northern Arizona
President, National Federation of the Blind Writers' Division
Committee Chair, Arizona Association of Guide Dog Users
Affiliate Member, National Federation of the Blind Legislative Committee
Affiliate Member, National Federation of the Blind Membership Committee
Member, Slate & Style Editing Team

"You do not need to have vision to see the stars."

On Sun, Aug 2, 2015 at 1:54 PM, Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter via stylist <
stylist at nfbnet.org> wrote:

> Jackie,
>
> For what it's worth, even when I don't fully understand a poem, I find
> poetry, if well written, to be inspirational.
>
> Bridgit
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Jackie
> Williams via stylist
> Sent: Sunday, August 02, 2015 1:51 PM
> To: 'Writers' Division Mailing List' <stylist at nfbnet.org>
> Cc: Jackie Williams <jackieleepoet at cox.net>
> Subject: Re: [stylist] New Prompt, Poem & Photos
>
> Lynda,
> I put off answering this until I could address your poetry, your exhibits,
> and your tremendous talent.
> First, you are an inspiration to a two-fold audience. The blind and the
> seeing. This has always been my own desire. No matter what our degree of
> blindness, Most sincere artists and writers strive to make it in both of
> those worlds, and ask no quarter.
> The description of your relationship with stone is exciting and endearing
> at the same time. It makes me want to ask so many questions. Did you ever
> have a "pet rock?" Have you ever found any Petoski stones? Did you ever
> consider making a coffee table tracing all of your travels, and countries
> visited with colored and varied sized stones set in place with whatever
> they use to keep it level and forever? Can't think of the word.
> Of course, I know you need a new project!
> Your poem is a keeper for me.
> The intense sensuality of the descriptions of the stones and the
> relationship of them to your body and mind, and their possibilities, make
> for a personal experience.
> Perhaps the reason I relate so much is because my father was a geologist,
> besides being a chemical engineer. He grew crystals for radios and such
> during the war, had a massive gemstone collection at "Top of the World"
> museum this side of Miami, AZ, and every vacation I took during my early
> years was a rock-hunting trip.
> Now, I am the inheritor of an extensive jewelry collection, which I
> organized while I still had some color vision. They are now labelled using
> a "Pen Friend" which tells the origin and the date made, or found, or
> purchased.
> Your poem makes me want to wear layers of them at once. I already have
> rings strung on scarves, and some colored cord with 4-6 rings tied on. I
> will not leave the house without my matching earrings, rings, bracelets,
> and necklaces. I am discouraged by having to always wear a blue tooth
> hearing device, often a 20-20 pen, and a life alert pendant around my
> neck.    It adds nothing to the aura that you describe so effectively.
> I love reading your poetry. It never fails to give me motivation to expand
> my own poetry efforts.
> I only received two responses from this list on the "Gloss" blog. If I do
> a prompt, I have better simplify it. What are your thoughts. Many admit to
> no real interest in poetry. Sometimes like someone remarked, "It  is like
> being lost in a black hole."
> But like you, every post can have something in it that sparks a new poem.
> Jackie Lee
>
> Time is the school in which we learn.
> Time is the fire in which we burn.
> Delmore Schwartz
>
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Lynda
> Lambert via stylist
> Sent: Saturday, August 01, 2015 7:37 AM
> To: Writers' Division Mailing List
> Cc: Lynda Lambert
> Subject: Re: [stylist] New Prompt, Poem & Photos
>
> Jackie, and all -
> what a good idea to get back on track with writing.  I agree, but some of
> the chatter is  full of imagery for writing or making art. Ideas can come
> from anywhere.
>
> I like the three poems you sent here. I remember the first one about your
> son and the gathering of stones for the medicine bag you created in his
> memory. It is beautiful. I love stones of all sorts and it seems like every
> place I go, I bring back a stone from that place - have bowls of stones
> throughout my home. I think the stones I love the most are the
> bottom-of-the-creek water worn stones I have gathered when out in my canoe
> on a river. I have one small mixed media fiber work I created which started
> with three such river stones - the piece eventually was finished and called
> "Party on the Allegheny River" and it has appeared in international
> exhibitions and won in many shows - Last year it won a very good monetary
> award at the American Printing House for the Blind - in their annual museum
> exhibition. The work is only about 5 inches square - but stones are so
> powerful that just a very tiny stone can stop a person in their tracks by
> the beauty and energy it radiates. Stones are an essential element in just
> about all of my art work - and they show up often in my poetry and writing.
> I will attach a photo of Party on the Allegheny River for those who can
> see it.
>
> My love affair with beautiful stones and crystals is reflected  in my
> talismans I create using stones, gems, found objects, and other items - the
> talismans are complex, exquisite and costly - I create exhibition pieces,
> viewed in galleries and museum shows. For those who have some vision or can
> use magnification,  I'll also attach a photo of  "The Dragon's Healing
> Breastplate" - shown in exhibition at a museum in Pittsburgh last year.
> I'll attach "My Bleeding Heart," a talisman completed this year. It just
> won "Best of show" at a PA juried exhibition in July.  You can see that
> stones are a motif in my  art  and my writing.
>
>
> And, below, I will cut and paste a poem which describes the glory of
> wearing stones. This poem is called "Adornment."  I began working with an
> idea I got when a friend once said to me, "OH, I love wearing my jewelry. I
> could just adorn myself with every piece I own, and wear them all at the
> same time."
> She was a metal smith and created  one-of-a-kind works.   I combined her
> thoughts on wearing jewelry, with my own experiences, and this is what
> came out.
>
> Thanks for putting out this prompt.
> **
>
>
> “Adornment:  decorations worn to attract attention.”
>
> by Lynda McKinney Lambert
>
>
> On languid September days
> I would like to wear
> colorful  gaudy jewelry
> every single one
> at the same time.
> Adornments are worn to enhance autumn days.
>
> I’d put the gems on in layers,
> an ancient  warrior preparing for battle.
> Blue Topaz rings, one on each finger.
> My arms, encircled with ornaments.
> Protected by brilliant stones-
> faceted cherry quartz, deep green turquoise chunks, nuggets of Baltic
> amber in different colors, jet black polished stones,  and waxy yellow
> opals.
>
> I’ll wear a periwinkle blue dancing skirt.
> a flowing  chiffon  jacket .
> I am a flamboyant coat-of-armor
> that covers voluptuous, full breasts
> like a bishop’s  gold encrusted shawl.
> My holy, rare, mother-of-pearl talisman
> adorns my royal, goddess  chest.
>
> I slip my perfumed feet into soft sky blue sandals, promenade around the
> spacious room, in ever widening circles, among the evening shadows, under
> luminescent  spheres turning high above us.
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Jackie Williams via stylist
> Sent: Friday, July 31, 2015 7:59 PM
> To: 'Writers' Division Mailing List'
> Cc: Jackie Williams
> Subject: [stylist] A New Prompt, LONGISH
>
> Hi all,
> The back and forth of these last few days is mind-dancing. In some ways I
> agree with Joanne, and in some  instances with Bridgit. Since we are first
> and foremost writers, can each of you write either a piece of flash
> fiction, or short memoire, or a poem about the unusual things that are
> close to your hearts and minds. rocks, essential oils, age regression, or
> dreams, or even Portland! You can skip it if it is porn!
> I will start you off by cutting and pasting three poems.  The first I
> posted long ago when the discussions ran along similar tracks. My son
> disappeared when he was twenty and his remains were not found for fourteen
> years. He was on  a ledge near the top of Black Mountain in AZ, near the
> Superstition Mountains.
> Some friends had a most unusual service of sorts in the Sawtooth Mountains
> of Idaho just two years after he disappeared. He had worked in the forestry
> service and some friends carved out a medicine wheel in such a private
> place that it was not desecrated for five years. Because of his interest in
> Indian lore and rocks, I researched the rocks I thought represented him
> best. I put them in his medicine bag which now hangs next to my bed with
> the Dream-catcher.
> Medicine Wheel
>
> you taught me how to grieve
> dance emotions           chant the sorrow
> place myself in the power of your signs
> bid my son good-bye
> buried in pain I did not hear
> his cries for help          before he left
> my wonderment           that our first steps
> into stark wilderness    were matched in time
> yet became our solitary journeys
>
> it is not right that the mother
> survives the son          unless his spirit
> burns bright within her for all of her
> remaining days
> your circle of rocks enabled this
>
> I put three Indian healing stones
> that captured his spirit
> into my medicine bag
> fiesta jasper     a bright coral
>             to give dynamism        lively energy
>                         power to attend us always
> crazy lace agate          to provide security
>             from doing things only for another's desire
>                         give confidence in any new domain
>             yet soften stubbornness
> rock crystal      versatile           powerful
>             to stimulate and focus energy
>                         to heal the body and the mind
>             enhance a vision
> give powers of observation
>             arouse authority to live fully
>
> we bless you   Medicine Wheel
>             as you did the healing stones by the spirit from the beating
> drum
>
> I sprinkle cornmeal      then leave
> His medicine bag hangs near my heart
> my son's life force and mine are converged
>
>
> I hope this next cinquain will not offend anyone. The form: Five lines of
> 2,4,6,8,2 syllables in iambic. Not usually rhymed, but I could not resist.
>
> Citrines
>
> I do
> not ever have
> to clean my old latrine,
> for hanging on each wall I have
> citrines.
>
> The last poem is an Anaphora, meaning the beginning of each stanza, or
> line, or whatever are started with the same word or words. In this case,
> the words are, Her hands. I suggest you read this one through, not line by
> line, at least at first, and then again if you want to know the oils.
>
> 11. Traditional Form, Anaphora
>
> Magic Through Raindrop Therapy
>
> Her hands are gnarled. The fingers twisted so give lie to tenderness, the
> strength, the flow of energy to flesh, so cold it shivers.
> As she applies the oils....limbs live, skin quivers.
> Her hands give life, and so they move her own into my muscles from which
> use has flown. Three drops of valor, thyme, oregano then soft massage on
> soles to make them glow.
> Her hands now smoothly, quickly make their moves. I murmur sweetly many,
> "Ah's," and "Oo's."
> Then comes the cypress, basil and the birch, some peppermint and marjoram
> to search her hands for guidance, knowledge to work in to spastic muscles,
> jangling nerves, dry skin. My stress recedes as if from endless war for now
> my body finally knows the score.
> Her hands will finally smooth Aroma Siez and "crown of oils," the super
> Ortho Ease. The miracles of frankincense and myrrh cannot compete. I do not
> want to stir!
> Her hands have made my universe complete. I think I'll never feet again
> the heat from hands that poured those urgent healing balms. if I can give
> to others-feel no qualms- her hands might teach me once again to love a
> body's need for energy above, belie the mundane frantic lives we lead, make
> contact once again with life decreed.
>
> Jacqueline Williams, Mesa, AZ
> Published, Sandcutters,ASPQuarterly
> Incidentally,  though my sister is a Reiki Master, and I hold a
> Second-degree Reiki certificate, I am not a true believer. I just know that
> it helps people who can believe, just like so many other mind-body healing
> methods and therapies.Raindrop Thereapy is really not Reiki, but a special
> massage therapy, but my sister gives them.rAIN
>
> I am working ON a poem about Portland. Did you know that it has the most
> environmentally friendly garbage collection methods probably in the entire
> U.S.? Also, that it has a high suicide rate due to the cold, gloomy, and
> rainy weather much of the year? I took AFAA training there years ago and
> loved it for this. It is the heat in triple digits, the politics, and the
> no rain that make me even consider such a thing here.
>
> Jackie Lee
>
> Time is the school in which we learn.
> Time is the fire in which we burn.
> Delmore Schwartz
>
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