jillypoet: mom trying to write

Each day I wish I had invented waterproof sticky notes (for shower inspiration) or pen-friendly diapers to get down all my quirky thoughts that I am sure are relevant and publishable. And so God (actually another writer-mommy) sent me The Blog.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Scheherazade


Why do I write poetry? This was always the question that bugged me in college. Why should I bother writing about why I write, or why, for that matter, bother even thinking about why. I should just write! I can't really answer why I write, or why I love poetry. I just do.

I love words. Thimble, twinkle, clair de lune. Lute, Linus, silent, clanging. I love how words can paint a picture. Love how words that don't go together can be put next together and all of a sudden, someone says, Yes!

I like to think that since the wife-ly, kitchen goddess gene skipped a generation, I was blessed with the sugary thumb of a word chef. I can cook up a mean sestina. I'm known for my spicy sonnets in the coffee clatch circle. People beg for my famous free verse at cocktail parties. Someone stop me! I'm a poet without an apron.

Please, forgive me. It's late. I do have a poetic answer to the poetry question brewing (another good word) in the coffee pot of my mind, but until it's ready, here is a poem I posted way back in July when I was a lonely little blogger (and with the previous puns, is it any wonder?). Thanks for reading!


Scheherazade, Pen in Hand

I am following the thread of a poem
finding my way
between the folds of life’s cloth.
Sometimes sliding easily in
and out of silk,
capturing happy mothering moments,
precious three-year-old chatter
of handy dandy parking spots,
when we park up close,
cats as best friends,
the golden glow of slumber.

Other times I am jabbing a dull needle
through deep dark denim,
bending my pen around
hidden words,
angry statues,
frozen strands of stilted conversations,
the wide wale corduroy of being man and wife.

Always I am following that thread,
unspooling in long winding lines,
wrapping round corners,
threading
unthreading
knotting
unknotting.
Some days sewing cowboys
in my favorite color scheme
with golden hair and midnight hats.
Some days stitching
dark-haired, Indian-eyed baristas
into the back pocket of my sewing kit
as they stroke their goatees,
ask large or small, whole or skim.

I collect words in thimbles,
use pinking shears on newspapers, pump
my trundle in rhyme, sew closed
the holes in my socks
with letters
cut from magazines.
I will not stop until I am Scheherazade.

11 Comments:

Anonymous Dana said...

I love words. Thimble, twinkle, clair de lune. Lute, Linus, silent, clanging. I love how words can paint a picture. Love how words that don't go together can be put next together and all of a sudden, someone says, Yes!

I think that's a pretty good answer, actually. Mind if I use that quote sometime on Poetry Thursday?

1:42 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I just had to read this. And the last line sums up why. My sisters actual middle name is Scheherazade. It must have been a bummer not knowing how to spell it until like 5th grade (and I doubt she knows now at 25 yrs.) Wonderful choice of words.

7:45 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

"collect words in thimbles,
use pinking shears on newspapers,"

this is very vivid and telling. I like also the knotting and un knotting. The small and precise image of poetry.

well done!!

10:10 AM  
Blogger pepektheassassin said...

Hey! That's what I thought, too, about putting unlike words together, and waiting to see what happens: an explosion, a whistle, a sigh....Applause!

12:37 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

How blessed we are to have so many lovely words to express ourselves- thimble is epsecially nice! The images it conveys...
Your poem was wonderful- full of all those lovely words!

12:44 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I love your puns - and your why you write explanation. Absolutely delicious!

3:18 PM  
Anonymous Rethabile said...

It's good to say why you love poetry. it's even better when you show us.

3:26 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Your ability to weave poetry out of the smallest of everyday actions just delights me week after week. I'm so glad you re-posted this poem; I would have hate to have missed it.

4:15 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Lyrical, lovely poem. Your images flow together so well; they are sewn as neatly and smoothly as you describe.

thanks for pulling me out of my drug-induced fog for a minute...:)

4:38 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

What a great post. I love words too and putting them together. I love the cooking analogy.

8:35 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I simply loved the way your poetry flowed. It stays in mind.

gautami
saluting the potic words.
why I love Poetry.

11:51 PM  

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