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Posts Tagged ‘friends’

Lucky happy day, this. My lunch hour was spent with Bonnie and Tara! I’ve been reading both of their blogs for such a long time that it seems impossible that we haven’t actually met in person. And now it is impossible because we have met! My excellent slicing friends came into Manhattan today and met me for lots of conversation and a yummy lunch.

This is only the fourth time in ten years that I’ve met someone I know from blogging. And, as with each of those other times, it has pleased me enormously. I like that, after reading bits and pieces of someone else’s life over a period of years, I feel so completely familiar with them. Yes, there is still a moment of, “Oh, how nice to meet you!” formality, but then it drifts away and you remember that you already know so much about the other person, that you have known them for so long. Of course, there are so many things you don’t know about one another, but writing has knitted you together quite comfortably.

I left Bonnie and Tara to head back to my office while they headed off to find a place to write together. That pleased me (and made me wish I could go off to write with them, too!). I’m looking forward to our next meeting!

We’re grainy (and I’m annoyingly slouchy), but happy!



It’s Slice of Life Tuesday! Click through to see what the other slicers are up to this week!

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It’s about hospitality to strangers, which reads to me like kindness and generosity.

Tonight was the sixth anniversary of a women’s poetry salon I’ve been attending off and on since the summer of 2014. (Yes, for someone who spends a lot of time talking about how she isn’t a poet, I sure spend a lot of time immersed in poetry, don’t I? I know.)

The salon is a lovely space, a welcoming group of women who are unfailingly supportive and encouraging of one another. There are a couple of guys who attend, and they are just as lovely.

Aside from the beautiful welcome the salon extends, I feel free there. I let down my writing defenses — the ways I try to keep myself “safe” when it comes to writing poetry. I have let myself write in new ways, let myself stretch and try and trust the moment in ways that I would have had to struggle to do before I joined the group. One of my strongest Black Lives Matter pieces came, nearly whole, from a writing exercise we did in the salon.

Tonight was the 6th anniversary party, and it was great! Excellent readers, friends in the audience I haven’t seen in ages. Nice all the way around. Tonight’s chōka was inspired by one of the conversations I had early in the evening.

Plumped and Full

I said to a friend
I feel like I’m coming back,
back into the world.
It’s a good feeling — airy,
light, full of power
like everything is open.
It’s a good feeling,
finally back to myself,
my lungs plumped and full.
It’s time to stand up, to sing,
take pleasure in all of me.

_____

A chōka is a Japanese form poem with a specific syllable count per line. The shortest form of chōka  is: 5 / 7 / 5 / 7 / 5 / 7 / 5 / 7 / 7. The 5- and 7-syllable lines can repeat as many times as needed. The poem’s end is signaled by the extra 7-syllable line. The final five lines can be used to summarize the body of the poem.



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My friend — who, for the purposes of this post and the poem that follows, I will call “Saadiqhah” because it means, “true, sincere, faithful, veracious, a woman of her word” — is about to leave town. She is moving clear across the country. I am going to miss her for so many reasons. She is one of the friends that VONA has brought into my life to make my world bigger, richer, better. She is smart and funny and strong and clear-eyed and honest and thoughtful and caring. The Bay Area is about to be super lucky to have her.

But back on this coast, we had a party last night to celebrate our friendships with her. The party included an open mic, since many of her friends are writers or performers. I wanted to read something of mine, but I also wanted to read something from VONA and something that was created just for her. In the end, I read two super-short poems by Ruth Forman (“Let Down All Your Doors” and “The Sun’s One Good Eye”). I read the poem I wrote on Sunday about people trying to touch my hair. For the final piece, I wanted to copy a thing I participated in many years ago.

I read in a great reading for Valentine’s Day. The reading was called “Love and Chaos,” and was organized by a lovely poet, Patricia Landrum, who has since passed away. For her piece in the reading, Patricia did an audience participation poem. She asked us to shout, “Chaos!” every time she gave us the signal. Her piece was fun and funny and wonderful. I wanted to do something like that for Saadiqhah, and I wanted the poem to be a chōka. And it started to feel silly once I put it together, but I read it anyway. And (of course), because everyone in the room was there because they all love Saadiqhah, it worked exactly as well as I’d hoped it would!

I Love Saadiqhah!

I love Saadiqhah
and I know I’m not alone
I Love Saadiqhah!
so many conversations.
I Love Saadiqhah!
She doesn’t pull her punches.
I Love Saadiqhah!
Saying what I need to hear.
I Love Saadiqhah!
She is always right on time
with friendship, wisdom, and love.

(I could have gone on and on, but decided the occasion — and the patience of the audience — called for a shorter chōka.)

(I’m a day late, but will try to catch up tonight or tomorrow, can’t fall off the challenges this late in the game!)

_____

A chōka is a Japanese form poem with a specific syllable count per line. The shortest form of chōka  is: 5 / 7 / 5 / 7 / 5 / 7 / 5 / 7 / 7. The 5- and 7-syllable lines can repeat as many times as needed. The poem’s end is signaled by the extra 7-syllable line. The final five lines can be used to summarize the body of the poem.



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I had another long overdue friend date tonight. Make that L-O-N-G overdue. I met up with Michele, someone I hadn’t seen since I was in my early 20s. For realz.

I was nervous, waiting for her. What if we couldn’t find a way to talk or be comfortable with one another, what if being friends in our teens wouldn’t translate into being friends in middle age, what if?

(I will be honest and say up front that there aren’t a lot of folks I knew in my teens who I would risk meeting today. I knew Michele was one of those few I’d be safe meeting, but I was still nervous.)

But then I looked up and she was walking toward me, and I knew we would be fine. Her face, that smile. And then we were hugging and laughing, and there we were, just talking and talking.

Great evening. And a great exhibit that I need to go see again, take a closer look.

_____

Reunion

With so much to say —
all the years in between us,
the years to catch up,
all the things to remember.
Story on story,
a jumbled, hurried telling
decades in hours,
an ever-pouring fountain.
This conversation
interrupted by our lives,
floods back with a welcome ease.

No envoi on this one. I thought it was going to fall into place, but the poem clearly had other ideas. I think the poem works well enough without the envoi, but I miss it, miss the rhythm of having that final tanka.

_____

A chōka is a Japanese form poem with a specific syllable count per line. The shortest form of chōka  is: 5 / 7 / 5 / 7 / 5 / 7 / 5 / 7 / 7. The 5- and 7-syllable lines can repeat as many times as needed. The poem’s end is signaled by the extra 7-syllable line. The final five lines can be used to summarize the body of the poem.



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April 1st was the 24 Hour Project. I had the pleasure of participating with my IRL and blog friend, Raivenne. We met up in a cold, rainy, windy Times Square and set off. Our first stop was to buy a hat for ridiculous me who’d left hers home and forgotten to zip the hood onto her coat. Can you say “foolish”? Once I was properly hatted, we were ready.

My Saturday had other plans crammed into it: a Girls Write Now genre workshop with my mentee, a friend date for lunch with some VONA loves I hadn’t seen in forever, and a coworker’s improv show. All of it found its way into the Project, my picture of my city for one day in this year.

As I did both of the last years, I wrote mini stories for nearly every photo I posted. It’s what did when I first started on Instagram, use my photos like Duane Michals, like prompts, illustrations. I’ve gotten a little rusty, though. I had a hard time calling stories out of the ether this time. I’ll need to stay in practice so next year’s Project is easier.

Yes, I’m already thinking about next year. I hope Raivenne’s ready!

And now, without further ado, here are the pictures and stories.

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Spinning Yarns

I tell stories, lies,
made up worlds, dramas, joys.
Characters light up,
dance their tales across the page,
show me where to turn,
how to tell, what’s next to show.
Living in moments,
flashes of bright narrative
gleaming, line by line …
on to the next and again.
A new story. Keep spinning.

_____

A chōka is a Japanese form poem with a specific syllable count per line. The shortest form of chōka  is: 5 / 7 / 5 / 7 / 5 / 7 / 5 / 7 / 7. The 5- and 7-syllable lines can repeat as many times as needed. The poem’s end is signaled by the extra 7-syllable line. The final five lines can be used to summarize the body of the poem.

(Also, Raivenne wrote an arun! It’s not her first one, but I’m always surprised to happen upon one, out there in the wild, off the tip of someone else’s pen. I made a form!)



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Yesterday was the 24 Hour Project, and I was lucky enough to have my friend Raivenne join me! I’ll put my pics together to share later this week. Suffice it to say that I am exhausted today, beat to the last thread of my socks. And my knee has so many unprintable things to say about me right now. Taking on that challenge was fun, though, and the pain will pass. But, because I was so wrung out yesterday, so other things fell by the wayside. Hence my “A day late” title.

It’s April 2nd, and that means I’m a day into National Poetry Month … and nary a poem written. I thought I might manage one yesterday while I was out and about for the 24 Hour Project, but that proved too much for my super-tired self, so I let it go. And now here I am, trying to catch up on day 2 … not just with my 30/30, but with the A-to-Z challenge as well.

Because I need more writing challenges in my life.

I haven’t made any decisions about a form for this month. Today I have a Zeno that I started on the bus yesterday. Around 5am, Raivenne and I went to my office — we needed to charge our phones, sit in warmth, and use the facilities. The security guard on duty when we arrived, had some beautiful yarn in front of her, and — although she’d given us quite the fish eye when we first walked into the building (it was 5am, after all) — the moment we started exclaiming over her pretty work, we had a very different conversation! After Rai and I parted for the morning, I was on the bus and this poem started trying to be something in my already-sleepy brain.

(A Zeno has a syllable pattern of 8/4/2/1/4/2/1/4/2/1 and a rhyme scheme of a/b/c/d/e/f/d/g/h/d.)

Handmade

She is stitching for her mother.
Unspooling yarn,
her hands
sift
through soft colors,
twist and
lift,
braiding beauty
and love.
Gift.

She was sweet, the security guard, told us that she used to make cards for her mother with artwork and pretty designs, and that she hadn’t made anything in a while and so decided to make her a scarf. And the yarn was some really fun, slubby, multi-colored business that her mom is sure to love.

And, because today on Robert Lee Brewer’s page the prompt is to write a “not today” poem and that fits with how I’m feeling after my 24 Hours, I’ve scribbled up a little tanka for my second poem:

Not Today

Sunday plans cast off —
laundry, errands, all the things.
I am not moving,
not thinking, not doing, not.
Focused inward, refueling.

And I’m all caught up with my poems!



 

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I have been trying to be more intentional about making time to spend with friends. This has and hasn’t worked. Tonight is one of the nights when it worked!

I thought I hadn’t seen Javi in over a year. When we traced back to the last time we got together, we realized it’s been more than two years. That right there? That’s ridiculous. Yes, sure, there were good reasons for our long time no see: family, dramas and complications, health problems, dissertation writing and defending. We’ve planned and canceled and planned and canceled. But finally tonight — when, in truth, I actually needed to cancel again — I refused to change plans, and we finally got together for drinks and dinner at Bogotá, one of my favorite drinks and dinner places.

Javi is one of those friends who unlocks a different side of me, a version of me that doesn’t come out and play often. I’ve missed the way I laugh with her, the way our conversations spool out so comfortably, the way she always knows the exact right thing to say about my hair.

I needed to come home tonight. I have a project that needs starting, that needs doing. But I couldn’t bear to cancel. And I’m so glad I didn’t. I needed to get home, but I needed this more, needed to be reminded of myself in this way. Now I have more energy to take on the work ahead!

A little fuzzily focused, but fine!



It’s the 10th annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!
Head over to Two Writing Teachers to see all of today’s slices

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