Along with co-facilitating two identical workshops yesterday, I managed to hop into Ange Peita’s “Fundamentals of Creative Writing” workshop. Because sometimes it’s good to get yourself back to basics. I have been juggling so many projects these past six months sometimes you can disappear up your own hole. Ange is Austalian and one poetry form she introduced yesterday was from a workshop she attended in Oz. Didn’t completely catch her friend’s name. (May have been Les?) But it is a brilliant five liner. I got up this morning and decided to exercise it for the Poetry Daily.
This is the format. Five lines that go as thus:
- A quote
- Something about the past
- An action
- The theme
- The future
So I borrowed from Emily Dickinson to start.
“Hope is the thing with feathers”
Went dormant, possiblyextinct forever
Now it is the last precious to take wing
That alights after the soul takes flight
That seeks another morning after each dark night.
Copyright 2019 Bee Smith . All right reserved.
We will be heading back home at noon. Here is a poem I wrote in the workshop about home.
My home is a ship
sailing along the bog road
navigating through a sea of trees.
It’s woven its sails from birds’s nests,
twigs, cat dander and dog hair.
A southwesterly breeze
is shifting us around so
we’ll not go aground on Cuilcagh,
bashed to bits on glacial erratics.
My home is tiller and cargo,
starboard and portside,
sailing through starshot skies
guided by moonlight.
Copyright 2019 Bee Smith. All right reserved.