SLICE OF LIFE- POETRY CURSE

If you know children's literature at all, chances are that you are familiar with Jon Scieszka's book, MATH CURSE. In that book, the main character is blessed by a math teacher who convinces him that anything in life - getting up in the morning, getting dressed, grocery shopping- can become a math problem. I've read that book to kids a hundred times.

I feel like I've been "blessed" by a similar curse this month, but my curse is not related to numbers, instead it's a poetry curse. April is National Poetry Month. I love poetry, and had been trying to think of something special to do on my blog. I wanted to do a whole month of poetry- book reviews, or favorite poems, or quotes from poets or ???? Maybe because I had just finished the month-long Slice of Life, or maybe because I am slightly disorganized, all of a sudden, it was April 1st and I didn't have any idea what to post.

I decided to check in with my good friend, Mary Lee, (who may, after this month, become my not so good friend), over at Year of Reading, because she always does something wonderful in April. This year's project, Common Inspiration, Uncommon Creations, is no different. Mary Lee is taking some kind of image- a photograph, an animation, a sound clip from Wikimedia Commons, and using it as a basis for writing poetry. And she is inviting readers of her blog to write poetry along with her. (She's also providing some wonderful information about copyright laws, which are well worth taking the time to peruse).

Because I didn't have any great ideas of my own, I decided that I would try to write along with Mary Lee. So for the past eight days, I have written (bad) poems on topics varying from bee eating birds to fly fishing to collaboration to ancient art to sewing. Today I am supposed to write about surfing.

Trying to write a poem a day for thirty days might be bad enough, but I have encountered a still larger problem. I write Mary Lee's poems, and then I should just turn off my poetry brain and go about my daily business. But I don't. Instead  keep thinking about poetry all day long.

Take Sunday for example.

I thought about poetry while I was reading the paper, and this emerged.

"Sunday Mornings"

The Sunday paper
has been a forever ritual.
Local news.
National news.
Sports.
Books and arts.
Comics
Advertisements.
All consumed
at the dining room table
with multiple cups of coffee
before church.
Some Sundays
I set the alarm
to make sure
I would have time
to read the Sunday paper.

Today's paper
"News"
I read yesterday
or the day before
on the internet.
An occasional human interest story
Sports scores
tweeted to me
seconds after
game's end.
When I pay bills
I contemplate
not renewing
my subscription.
and then write the check. 

The Sunday paper
has been a forever ritual.

        (c) Carol Wilcox, 2013 

And then I thought about poetry (with apologies to William Carlos Williams) while I was at the grocery store.

This is just to say
I have eaten
the Peeps
that were on sale
at the grocery store
this afternoon. 

Forgive me.
I know I swore off sugar
but those fluorescent yellow chicks
so gummy
and sugary
tasted delicious.
(c) Carol Wilcox, 2013

I thought about poetry when I took the garbage out and saw a man walking with his companion.

Sunday walk.
He
balding
white undershirt
slight gut
worn gray sweats
strides briskly
down the sidewalk.
She
golden hair
slight gray
follows a few steps behind
tail wagging.
Clearly
partners
for a long time.
(c) Carol Wilcox, 2013 

I revised a poem that I had written during the March Slice of Life while I was out walking the dog.

"Daffodils"

Hey you

buttercup

I gulp thirstily from 

your cups of 

yellowspring

joy juice.

(C) Carol Wilcox, 2013

I thought about poetry when I talked to my son on the phone.

"26" 

My son,

screen boy-

television glazed eyes

beat pounding fingers

not a single reading gene

Came home from football practice with jersey #26

 He was disappointed

wanted the #25

he had  worn

since childhood

but I exclaimed

over his good fortune.

"Zay,

there are 26 letters in the alphabet

And letters are in books

And I'm a literacy teacher an

and now you are wearing #26

He was unconvinced

but my mamaheart 

loved that number

more for those four years,

than I have loved it in

my fifty years of reading

Last summer

when he moved to Arizona

he called me,

"Mom, I didn't get 26,

Someone else already has it."

26- a string that binds us.

(c) Carol Wilcox, 2013 

Yep! I have definitely been bitten by the Poetry Curse.  Hoping it only lasts a month because it's hard to do school work, or housework, or function in real life, when your mind is always trying to write poetry!