Write a "Replacement" Poem

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This one from NaPoWriMo looks like fun!

I haven't written mine, yet. I will. But I have planted all of the spinach (two types), kale (two
types), onions, rainbow carrots, and tomatoes (one plant each of three types). And mowed the grassy areas (or should I say grass-like areas?).

Now I have to clean up so I can go watch Othello tonight! Carolyn and Rich saw it last week and Carolyn and I are going tonight. The three of us (Rich Hall, Carolyn Brockway, and I) will be interpreting Othello at Portland Center Stage on April 24th at 7:30 pm and May 1st at noon (the matinee may already be sold out).


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Here is the prompt - I am looking forward to getting my hands on it! Maybe over dinner before Othello.

Today’s (optional) prompt is a “replacement” poem. Pick a common noun for a physical thing, for example, “desk” or “hat” or “bear,” and then pick one for something intangible, like “love” or “memories” or “aspiration.” Then Google your tangible noun, and find some sentences using it. Now, replace that tangible noun in those sentences with your intangible noun, and use those sentences to create (or inspire) a poem. Here’s a little example that replaces the word “lemon,” in sentences from a Wikipedia article on lemons, with the word “sorrow.” 

Sorrow is a small evergreen tree native to Asia.
The origin of sorrow is a mystery.
The first substantial cultivation of sorrow in Europe
began in Genoa in the middle of the 15th century.
A halved sorrow dipped in salt or baking powder
is used to brighten copper cookware. One educational
science experiment involves attaching electrodes
to sorrow and using it as a battery.
Although very low power, several sorrows
can power a small digital watch. 

Goofy, but also interesting! It’s not quite a poem yet, but there might be a poem in there, waiting to come out. Happy writing!

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Holding On

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Last week - actually the week before last, now - I put in a garden. The first time in years. It felt good.

It was partly possible because I had some actual time off from work which wasn't filled with appointments and places to be and things to do. I mean, I had things to do - but I made the decision to put in the garden and to take some time to relax. That was good.

Not surprisingly, I did more writing last week, as well.

More rest. More puttering. More writing. Contentment.

Then this most recent week the pace picked up. Every day I had work and/or rehearsal and appointments. It wasn't bad, it was just busy. And working on two plays simultaneously takes a lot of time. One of them is a one-woman show and so I'm interpreting it solo - which does make it easier in terms of setting up rehearsals and preparation. But it is still prepping two shows at the same time. It was another week where I remember that I do less writing when I'm working on a play. On two plays, yes, my brain is steeped in theater and is holding onto those two worlds. Holding their stories and how I'm going to translate the text. Where the scene changes are and the characters' affects which I also have to incorporate into my interpretation.

Busy brain and not with writing.

Although... Yes, a glimmer. On Friday I met with a friend for dinner. We sometimes write together - although that has slid off a bit since our favorite writing space changed and has been pretty packed at the time we meet so we've been adrift for a healthy dinner, latte, and wifi spot.

But my point was: I was on my way to meet her. So I was not in work mode. I was not in theater mode. I was in meeting with a friend who is a writer mode.

As I was driving around looking for a place to park which was not marked as either a loading zone or for a one hour limit, I saw something which stuck with me. I'm not going to put it in this writing - but it was awesome. There was this perfect character sketch happening right there in front of me. My mind was present in that moment and I noticed.

After I was seated at the restaurant I sent myself an email. See, I have a special folder in my private email to which I send myself titles that pop into my head. Or snippets of writing. Character names which appear to me out of the blue. Or something like the sight I saw Friday late afternoon. Perfect. So I sent myself a note and the very beginning or a story - or perhaps just a character sketch for now. And with the code word I set up, that little gem of a visual experience goes into that writing idea folder and won't get lost in all the other electronic communications I have.

I haven't written that story yet. But I know where the sight and the idea is. And I will get to it. Later. Probably after the plays are done. But, who knows!

I am three days behind on the writing challenge I took on for this month. But it is 21 writings in 30 days so there is a little flex time. However, I need to not let it go further and try to get caught up in the next couple of days. I was five days behind and I did two writings tonight. By Wednesday I hope to be caught up.

So. Busy - good busy because of theater. And still, some writing is happening.

Life is good.
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Gardening : Plants and Words

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The garden in the ground seems to be doing well. The plants are adjusting. Some of them are in plant nirvana with the unusually sunny and hot days. We've had cloudless skies and temperatures in the 80s every day. The herbs are sprouting and reaching toward that glowing orb; the tomatoes are stretching their leaves and the spaghetti squash has grown in the few days they've been in the ground. The onions, well, I'm not sure. They're looking a little droopy but some of them don't. The spinach is wishing for a little cooler temperatures and definitely less sun. And one kale is thriving in its spot and the other is calling 'Uncle' on the heat.

Today I tried a temporary sun barricade for a few of the spinach and the drooping kale and they seemed to like it. Tomorrow before work I will see about doing something a little sturdier to protect them in these remaining few days of the heat - which we're supposed to have until Saturday, I think.

In my writing world, I am still writing the "21 Moments" each day. Usually after I get home from work. I'm working on some revisions of the book in progress, too, slowly, now that my critique group is no more.

But the new writing group I'm putting together seems like it's going to be a good one. There are four of us and we set a date at the end of May to meet up and talk about what we each want and how to proceed. This group will be more of a process group and we'll see what that turns into. I'm excited by the possibilities and the people in it.

Sprouting. Things are sprouting. I have to remember that because this is also a time of flux. There have been some major changes in a few areas of my life and, while they haven't been devastating or horrific, they are significant and have impacted me on several fronts. There are some unknowns and things are a bit bumpy. But not bad - just unsettled. And that can make me a little anxious and raise old issues. So I have to remember - sprouts. And maybe, like the spinach and kale which are adjusting to the heat and the sun and being out of tight little pots, it takes time to adapt to new conditions, but it will be okay.

Yes, I am okay.

It's just change.


photo from The POP Campaign


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A New Garden

I woke up early this morning. Very early, considering that I went to bed late. Not a good combination; but that's what happened. 

I was excited to go to the "master gardeners' sale" and so I decided to go ahead and get up, despite being short on sleep. I figured I could nap later.

First we had to go to the post office so my partner could mail copies of her book to people who'd bought them at the art retreats earlier this month. She had a huge stack of books in envelopes - all personally signed, and she needed help. So post office. Then coffee (I'm still only drinking decaf; but even that minor amount of caffeine was needed today).

And then on to the plant sale. They were out of a few things - but they had the primary plant starts I wanted: kale, spinach, tomato (large and cherry and pear), and a few other miscellaneous edibles. We also picked up some herbs for one of the half whiskey barrels.

We dropped the plants off at home and gave them a drink of water. 

After taking Dexter out for dinner and a walk, we returned home and I started setting out the plants where I wanted them in the beds and planters. And then we did it. All of the plants are in the ground, watered, the tomatoes covered with their cages.

It looks great and it was fun to dig around in the dirt a bit. I'm going to have to remember to water the plants every day this week before I go to work, since we have unseasonably warm temperatures predicted (hovering around 80; this is definitely more like summer weather and not our typical spring at all).

I just finished reading the "21 Moments" prompt for today and am going to write the moment as soon as I'm done here. Or maybe this is my response to the prompt. Yes, I think that's it. It's not what I intended it to be - but perhaps it is.

I think I am growing a new writing garden along with the veggies and herbs in the back yard!

Oh - and my food dehydrator arrived today. I haven't dried anything yet and it might be a couple of weeks now before I do. I have a couple of interpreted plays coming up in two and three weeks, so I probably don't have time to actually do it until after those two shows are done.  Or maybe I'll try something the weekend between the two shows.

Writing and Planting

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No, I haven't bought any plants yet to go in my raised garden beds. But I will tomorrow!

Wait. Let me catch you up.

On Thursday I had an entire day off work and I had no appointments, or places to be. Wednesday night I decided I'd go to the store and buy supplies to make raised garden beds - which I did. I unloaded the supplies from my car at 10 pm, because I am a night person. On Thursday I turned over the soil, put down weed barrier, assembled the raised bed, and put the organic soil into the planting boxes. Voila! Garden space.

I also heard about a master gardener sale taking place midday on Saturday, so I will go see what they have and buy some plants to go into the boxes.

There's the planting part. Or the literal part, as in talking about real plants.

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But there is also the writing planting part of my week.

I signed up to do the "21 Moments, Part One." This is a program where I receive an email prompt each day for 21 days and I have to write my response. I can write them whenever I want - it doesn't have to be 21 days in a row, though that is what I'm going for. For the most part.

So far so good - I've been writing every day. Continuing with the daily writing, from April's A to Z Blogger Challenge, now with the "21 Moments."

Planting seeds or moments. To write.

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I like having time at home, without places I have to be. When I can get enough sleep, and exercise, and do projects. Time without work and without hurry. It's been a good three days.

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Anna's Poetry Garden

For Anna Ingre

Today a mutual friend reminded me that
tomorrow
is your birthday. But do I say "is" your birthday
for someone who has died or is it proper to say
"was" your birthday because. Well. You died.
But the day is still the day you were born.
Tomorrow is the day which would
have been cause for a celebration. A variety of
friends
some of whom know each other only
through you.
Your small and cozy home filled with people in every room,
spilling from the enclosed front porch with plants
and starts and vines lined along the house's railing,
into the front room entry way where one wall was covered
from floor to ceiling and end to end
with bookcases full of poetry and travel and spirituality
and pleasure books; the other wall covered with your own
artistic creations.
People meandering into the kitchen with dining area separated
by a peninsula which attached
to the wall, so it was not an island standing alone.

And the friends in clumps and covens and snaking through
the house and people would spill out the back door to your
amazing
incredible
lush and productive
garden.
Some people wandering the rows of plants, touching
gently, sniffing deeply, feeling the rich earth
beneath their feet.
Still others under the large overhanging tree.
Sitting or standing as they could or as they desired.

Laughter
Memories
Nodding heads and topics tossed about from the political
to the heart songs to writing and art and
poetry. Therapy, mental health, pets, relationships.

I can still smell the cooking beans and rice, the sauteed onions,
an herbal tea made from your own garden.
I can see the fresh baked goods brought by friends, the basket
of tortilla chips and bowl of salsa, skewers of veggies and
plates of fruit.

Food and friends gathered.
To celebrate you.

I miss the gatherings. I miss your calm and firm manner.
I miss your determination and independence and strength.
I miss talking about writing and gardening and I wish
I would have spent more time with you, writing, listening,
learning.

The passion flower plant you gave us as a raggedy start root
still blooms. Still screens our front porch, giving shade and
cooling our front room.
Every year the plant returns, no matter the winter weather nor
summer heat.
Every year the flowers bloom, a few at a time, until the first
frost. Scattered wild passion flowers, purple, spikey, and white;
surprising.

Today a mutual friend reminded me that tomorrow is your birth day.
Now four years past your death.
May your journey in the other world be kind 
and gentle
and full of passionate poetry
and dancing plants.

by Dot Hearn 5/16/12

photo from eHow