This is what our dying looks like.
Early February is a hard time for me to create or to focus on what I want to accomplish. I know why it happens and I’ve accepted that it’s going to happen every year. But that doesn’t make it easier. So I have been very sluggish for the first half of this month, writing very little and worrying about how I can re-commit myself to my writing.
Right now, I am looking forward to a well-deserved break in a week and I expect to return with my batteries recharged and ready to share some new poetry and hopefully to have a rough, rough draft of one of my stories in the hands of its number one fan. That’s my plan at this moment so hopefully it won’t get thrown out once I start having fun.
While I’m in the airport on my way to my getaway, I am going to start blog planning for the next month or so. I recently stumbled across a post from the site byemilyscott.com about batch blogging and decided that I want to give it a try. Hopefully, that will work out.
I hope you are all having a successful 2017 so far or at least a great weekend.
Sometimes the mist overhangs my path,
And blackening clouds about me cling;
But, oh, I have a magic way
To turn the gloom to cheerful day–
I softly sing.
And if the way grows darker still,
Shadowed by Sorrow’s somber wing,
With glad defiance in my throat,
I pierce the darkness with a note,
And sing, and sing.
I brood not over the broken past,
Nor dread whatever time may bring;
No nights are dark, no days are long,
While in my heart there swells a song,
And I can sing.
Today I’m sharing another poem by the amazing Audre Lorde. Last Friday, I taught a workshop on the power of poetry. I was really excited in ways that I can’t explain but also a bit nervous. While researching for the workshop I ran across a bunch of statements that I wanted to include in my presentation.
A bunch of them were related to Audre Lorde. This is just one of the amazing things so I decided to share.
The difference between poetry and rhetoric
This poem popped in my inbox today just as I was lamenting the late arrival of Timothy B. Tyson’s most recent book, The Blood of Emmett Till. If you don’t know about it then please Google his name.
It is a story that I have known about since I was probably ten. I saw the pictures of his distorted, bloated body and became obsessed with knowing everything about his murder. The same thing happened when I found out about Medgar Evers. Until the arrival of the book, I will just satisfy myself with the words of Patricia Smith.
Prairie winds blaze through her tumbled belly, and Emmett’s
A few weeks ago, I shared that I planned to do things a bit differently this year at least concerning my submission goal and that I planned to study for and take the GRE. Well, we’re almost through the first month of 2017 and I’m already flaking on those goals. Seriously! In my defense, there are a few literary journals that I already had listed to submit pieces to and I need to get those in by February for the most part.
I still want to work on some academic and nonfiction pieces while I have the time but first and foremost is getting these poems submitted. Especially since it’s on my to do list for the year. I have so many pieces that I think are interesting and one that I want to research and build so here’s to hoping that I can make it happen.
The GRE is being pushed to the back burner because I am seriously reconsidering, again, whether I truly want to pursue a Ph.D. I’ve been waging this battle for quite a while but I think that I’ll eventually (hopefully) get the GRE taken.
In the meantime, I am finishing these poems for submission and then getting back to my original plan. I hope!
Let them not say: we did not see it.
Let them not say: we did not hear it.
Let them not say: they did not taste it.
We ate, we trembled.
Let them not say: it was not spoken, not written.
we witnessed with voices and hands.
Let them not say: they did nothing.
We did not-enough.
Let them say, as they must say something:
A kerosene beauty.
Let them say we warmed ourselves by it,
read by its light, praised,
and it burned.