Writing Workshop Spin Offs

We are back home, tired and happy, sleeping late after the creative writing workshops at Willowbrook Glamping over the weekend. Our workshop was called “Companioning Your Greatness”, cribbed from W. B. Yeats’ poem These Are The Clouds.  Tony began by looking  at that word ‘companion’ etymologically. It means “together or with bread”. I played a supportive role in that workshop, acting as sounding board for Tony’s devisings, and a reader and timekeeper. 

I was playing catch up earlier this morning, reading emails that had piled up the Inbox  over the weekend. There was one from astrologer Chani Noble announcing  the July eclipse season. So, too, the harvest season will get into full swing this month. Early July is about the sign of Cancer, which rules nourishment. Which took me back to bread.


What Bread

What bread nourished you?

What do you need to fill

that yearning in you?

It’s not just the craving

for sweet over sourdough,

or even preferring 

to dip your bread in oil

instead of slathering it in butter.

What bread will fill

the hole in your soul?

That pit in your stomach

that belly aches so

and cries More! More!

What bread do you feed the wolf?

What bread do you feed the lion?

What crumbs are left for the eagle?

What carrion?

What bread do you bake

and break?

What bread to you give to yourself?

What do you give unto others?

Copyright 2019 Bee Smith. All rights reserved.

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Writing Workshop Nuggets

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:

  1. A quote
  2. Something about the past
  3. An action
  4. The theme
  5. 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.

Home

My home is a ship

sailing along the bog road

past hedgerows

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.