[stylist] New Prompt, Poem & Photos
EvaMarie Sanchez
3rdeyeonly at gmail.com
Mon Aug 3 21:39:04 UTC 2015
Thank you both for the inspiration. I am now exhausted. All night, I tried
to sleep and had cinquains going through my thoughts. I lost count of how
many times I had to get up to record them.
I will try to get things organized and share a few later.
The subjects range from citrines to barrel racing, from sharks to bread,
from ballet to herbs and many other things you can not imagine. It was
great fun, but like I said, I am so very tired now.
;) 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 4:44 PM, Jackie Williams via stylist <
stylist at nfbnet.org> wrote:
> Lynda,
> I have to make this short. I appreciate your pep-talk at this time so very
> much.
> I wish I had known Rosella. I picture my mother at age 92 on stage in
> Globe at a talent show when she was acting out her poem, "Last Dance." She
> got a trophy and a standing ovation.
> I will take your last comments to heart, though I have realized these past
> few years, that I write because I have to, not because anyone will read
> these things. The problem now is what to burn!
>
> 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: Sunday, August 02, 2015 3:06 PM
> To: Writers' Division Mailing List
> Cc: Lynda Lambert
> Subject: Re: [stylist] New Prompt, Poem & Photos
>
> Jackie,
> Thank you, Jackie for taking the time to write this to me today. Poetry and
> art are the gifts I was given, my calling. It is not something I decided
> one day to try or to do, but something I was born with - a maker. I
> recently
> listened to a wonderful interview of young writer who just had an amazing
> book published by a world famous publishing company and one of the
> statements he made is "some people are here (on earth) and they know why
> they are here. They know what they were sent here to do. Others are here,
> and they have forgotten why they came here.
>
> I was so happy to hear that my "Adornment" poem spoke to you. I wrote it
> as
> part of a one person exhibition I did in 2013. At the exhibition two of my
> English department colleagues read several of my poems for the audience.
> It
> was so exciting for me to hear my work being presented by them - as most of
> my poems I have never heard anyone perform. I cannot read my poetry to
> anyone - so when I heard how they make it come alive I was so excited. They
> also went to the recording studio at the college and recorded the poems for
> me on a CD as a gift. They are two of the profs. that were my Humanities
> lecture team so it was a treat to listen to them on the CD.
>
> You are such a delightful person and you remind me so much of the precious
> friend who inspired my poem about "wearing it all at once." Her name is
> Rosella and she died about 4 years ago. On my last visit to her, she asked
> me to bring some of my new jewelry so she could see it. She had not seen
> any
> of my talisman work, as I had just started creating them shortly before I
> lost my sight. She had been very sick with heart problems and we had not
> seen each other for a couple years. My other friend, Donna, who was my
> first painting teacher, picked me up and the two of us went to visit
> Rosella. I will never forget how she LOOKED at my stone work pieces. She
> was like in a trance, as she touched them - stroking them, and speaking of
> how they were "feeling" to her. She spoke of how they felt silky and soft,
> and like water running through her hands. She had worked most of her life
> doing metalsmithing and stone work, so she intimately connected with them.
> You have made me laugh out loud as I read your comments about the emotions
> of the work. I have so often been told by people who view my work in
> exhibitions that my work is "so sexy." I have watched as someone entered
> the gallery for a show and sat down on a bench to week she was so overcome
> by emotion by my paintings. (She is a painter who did her MFA at Bard, so
> she entered into the work so personally.)
>
> One day Rosella and I visited a famous art museum together and we went to a
> laser light show installation. Before I knew it, Rosella was in the center
> of the gallery, eyes closed, dancing with the laser light beams. I could
> envision the man at the security cameras watching us - we had to give him a
> heart attack.
>
> There is a common core with art and poetry (specifically poetry), that
> comes
> out so often - and it is identified with such little phrases as, "I don't
> know much about art, but..." or "poetry is not my thing, but...," or such
> kinds of preludes to what they will say next. I wonder when this happens,
> what else in life would they give such kind of disrespect to? There is
> something about art and poetry that hits a person in the gut, and it makes
> them uncomfortable and insecure, and thus, they have to put up a wall
> before
> they can say anything else. They don't seem to have a clue they are waving
> an enormous red flag. I do clearly understand how you feel, and every fine
> artist and poet feels this deeply inside - the loneliness of the creative
> life. What we do is not a group activity, it is done in solitude and with a
> lifetime of considering and thinking and weighing and examining before a
> word or a stroke is ever made. Every artist understands the deep loneliness
> of being in the studio - you are absolutely alone. I almost never allow a
> person to enter my studio space as it is sacred space. For many years,
> Rosella was in her studio working each day, and I was in mine - at lunch
> time we called each other to discuss the work of the day, the colors we
> were
> mixing, how to solve a problem, or discuss what we were reading. We
> talked
> about art, and then we went back to work. An artist and a poet "work." That
> is what we do - we work and we continue to forge out the imagery and create
> the forms. We are in labor and eventually we give birth. Our work is
> completed when the art is hung on the gallery wall and the public comes to
> see it and talk with us about it. Our poem is completed when someone reads
> it and talks about it with us or with others and when they share their
> thoughts. We stand by, in the wings, watching and listening, and hoping
> for
> a response who what we have offered, what we have given.
>
> Before the show opens to the public, for forty years now, I have stood
> there
> alone and wondered, "Will anyone come to see my work tonight?" At the
> appropriate time, the door opens and the first visitors arrive - we
> embrace,
> and we laugh, and we chat and before I know it, the opening is over and
> hundreds of people cared enough to come and be with me and my work for a
> few
> hours. I go home completely exhausted and I cannot stop smiling for days.
>
> And, when we put out the poetry, and publish our books, we wonder, "Will
> anyone want to read this poem?" "Who would read my book"" and "Have I
> given anyone a meaning for life and a living experience through my words."
> But then I remember, it is "casting my bread on the waters and I will watch
> and wait to see what returns. It is a good life, creating art and poetry,
> and I would never trade it despite the solitude and the concerns we have
> chosen to live with.
>
> We all wrestle with self-doubts when we are writing and particularly when
> we
> have a book in development. I have two in process right now, and I think of
> these things every time I sit down to write. Like everyone else here, we
> all
> have rejects. The more we put ourselves out there, the more rejections we
> will have and w must learn to keep on going and not allow rejections to
> take
> on a life of their own and scare us away. I scared an editor off last week,
> when I used the term "realistic fiction" for a piece I was working on - and
> in fact it is really "non-fiction" but too late for me to explain that.
> But,
> at the same time, another editor contacted me and she wants to be the
> publisher of my books and wants to be the ONE for me - and this editor is
> intimately familiar with my work - so you see, we have to hang on, and keep
> writing, and keep putting it out, and let the bread that is to come back to
> us just come on back.
>
> Write on, everyone. Figure out what you came here to do and then just do
> it.
> Lynda
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Jackie Williams via stylist
> Sent: Sunday, August 02, 2015 2:51 PM
> To: 'Writers' Division Mailing List'
> Cc: Jackie Williams
> 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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