 |
| art by Jurgen Appelo |
Now that midterms are over and that I've made the transition to a new computer, I'd like to post some poems from a workshop I led back in September 2017. As the picture above implies, I asked my fellow poets to note which direction they were facing and write poems inspired by that. This workshop had been inspired by a Forrest Yoga workshop I had attended in January 2017. There one of our activities was to call or chant in the Four Directions. It was a wonderfully illuminating workshop.
Let's start with Miss Kiane's poems. (Miss Kiane oversees the DC Poetry Spot.)
Facing South
Like the
migrant bird, I turn my expectations South
Gathering as
many scattered memories from this fleeting season as possible
Like bare
legs, impromptu picnics, face devouring sunglasses and vitamin D overdoses.
The winter
is coming, and I must protect my soul
From its
cold talons.
My wings are
in spirit only.
I cannot fly
South.
So, I burn
summer memories to keep me warm
Until the
South returns to me.
---- copyright 2017 by Dinahsta Kiane Thomas
*********************************************************************************
East
East coast,
a modern day land of milk and honey
Small narrow
streets
Driven on by
gaudy, gas guzzlers
But they are
shiny so….
Tiny
apartments house BIG dreams.
Huge price
tags are met with the working poor salaries.
Fast-paced
trajectories turn pupils into dollar signs
And “once in
a lifetime opportunities” are purchased
With the
things that really matter.
---- copyright 2017 by Dinahsta Kiane Thomas
Dinahsta Thomas also known as Miss Kiane is
a social worker by profession and poet by passion. Through her business Kiane Ink Healing in the
Pen, LLC, she uses poetry / creative expression as a spring board to host
community events, offer self-improvement workshops and engage in charitable
efforts. She oversees the DC Poetry Spot
meetup and travels the States performing poetry. In her own words “Poetry is my friend….my catharsis….my gift to the world.” For more information, visit her website at
www.kianeink.com
 |
| Photograph by Ted Eytan |
Kamilah Carlisle faced north:
The strangest lullaby I ever heard
Was the commotion going on outside my window
Those summer nights in New York city
Were as sweet as a child’s dreams
The house I visited never utilized the AC
And it was glorious
The air was so fond of me
Thick with pure bliss
As I wait to fall asleep
The screeching sounds of Harlem
Lulled me to peace
Either those train tracks were simply rusted
Or they played a symphony just for me
-- copyright 2017 by Kamilah Carlisle
Her bio follows: "I am Kamilah Carlisle, a 24 year old Computer Science major hailing from Largo, MD. I have always been interested in writing since a young age. It has been an outlet for my vivid imagination and the rich way in which I perceive the world around me. "
 |
| CC BY-SA 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1958483 |
Although Suriya was not at this particular workshop, I invited her to join this gathering of poets.
A Yes Poem
By Suriya
Mais oui...Por supuesto, si
Aye ... No doubt...Absolutely
With words of affirmation I fling wide the door welcoming opportunity
Inviting Her in & offering a plate
a glass, a steaming mug, a cushioned seat
Yes I say
When universe poses the question
I concur wholeheartedly that now is the moment
and this is the season
We accept the challenge to do more than thought possible
to mesh purpose with persistence
and find pleasure in the process
We sing sugar-free symphonies
buoyed by belief in the
pure power of positivity
Her bio follows: Writing is this poet's happy place. This piece came out of a collaborative workshop in the Writers on the Green Line series, facilitated by Naomi Ayala. (Writers on the Green Line is another DC poetry group. Its leader is Elizabeth Bruce whose flash fiction you've read here.)
 |
| Photograph by ctj71081 |
Steve K. faced in a totally different direction from the usual north, east, south, and west:
Progress
Gaia tilts at solar windmills
Cancer and Capricorn
square dance for a season
spicing life with a solstice poultice
revolutions charge at dawn
hope riding the crescent
reflected radiation
we Spring into Summer
before our Fall into Winter
lessons learned through liquidity
stasis is still - a dirt blanket
where blooms wither
and grass is kept to carpet
Bio: Steve would like to thank all the individuals who give him inspiration.
 |
| Photograph by AmberAvalona |
Gabrielle Grunau's poem reminds me of summer's end.
Missing Hat
The smile was sunshine
from under the pillows
on the sattee of green
wide cat grin over a band
of blue pale with age.
It smiles from plump cushions
up to me and to its owner
The hat found!
Hurray.
From, under the cushions
of that sattee, it
survived a seating
and sleeping.
to become again
free. Hatted. Protecting.
Pale blue with age
from the sun.
from the sun.
I'll conclude with my poems from the workshop. Of course, my first poem was written while I was facing north.
Facing North Again
In September, I am facing north again,
the direction of compasses
pointing towards Canada,
towards the map’s empty spaces
of flatlands and permafrost.
the direction of compasses
pointing towards Canada,
towards the map’s empty spaces
of flatlands and permafrost.
Once I imagined being
beyond where the compass points,
where dirt roads up to the ocean
and the summer sun
take the place of the needle.
beyond where the compass points,
where dirt roads up to the ocean
and the summer sun
take the place of the needle.
Before long I’d learned my limits,
leaving north for scientists.
In my room without a map,
the wall an empty space,
I faced south towards
the city’s haze-blue towers
that I could barely see.
leaving north for scientists.
In my room without a map,
the wall an empty space,
I faced south towards
the city’s haze-blue towers
that I could barely see.
---- Marianne Szlyk
Facing South Again
Further south it is early spring.
The snow falls in the mountains,
blocking the one road through.
Plum blossoms are far away.
One woman writes a haiku.
The snow falls in the mountains,
blocking the one road through.
Plum blossoms are far away.
One woman writes a haiku.
I see only the hurricane,
the hang trees,
the heartache
I’ve been taught to see
when I look in this direction.
the hang trees,
the heartache
I’ve been taught to see
when I look in this direction.
-- Marianne Szlyk
previously published in Ramingo's Porch
If you are in the DC area, I hope that you will consider attending the DC Poetry Spot. Its Meetup page is here: https://www.meetup.com/The-DCPoetrySpot/
Recently my husband and I saw Jane Bunnett and Maqueque in concert. A Canadian artist who reworks Cuban music, she would be a fantastic musician to listen to tonight.
"La Flamenca Maria" kept running through my head for days after the concert: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnAyr2hRYXE
Here they perform "Changui del Guaso" live: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R-qnK8FK8tA
This video is from a performance at Nightown in Cleveland: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bM88KR_Cj_I
More Maqueque live!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VoUBz90Sg_E
Enjoy!
