poetry

Spring

I sense a fragrance  Like old memories and new  Peace drifts through the air      Cherry blossoms bloom  With memory of winter  Lingering softly      Lush meadows grow tall  As nature opens its eyes  Leaves of spring glow green 

Saturday Newsletter: May 21, 2022

Daydreaming (pastel, watercolor) by Audrey Li, 12 (Scarsdale, NY), published as the cover image of Stone Soup May 2022 A note from Emma Letters crash around me like waves in a storm… In this poem, Lilly Davatzes is clearly writing about dyslexia (it’s the title!). I am not dyslexic, but a few of my close friends are. And this poem unlocked something for me about what that means. I felt I immediately understood the way words can feel overwhelming with dyslexia, and the intense concentration needed to read or write with it. Lilly uses the storm and the ocean as central metaphors—the letters are like waves that crash down on her and threaten to drown her in a sea of words. …knocking me down, pulling me into the sea of words… And the distractions that surround her are birds: as distractions fly around me like birds. Birds, like words, dive down in a swarm. I love how the poem ultimately subtly enacts this distraction, as the subject shifts from the words and letters to the birds. By the poem’s final sentence, the words are not being compared to birds—rather, it is the birds who are like words. The birds/distractions are what have become most real in the poem. This also seems to reflect the confusion that can happen when reading while dyslexic—how the word “word” can be mixed up with “bird”—after all, the poem could have just as easily (and perhaps more coherently) read: “Words, / like birds, / dive down in a /swarm.” However, the fact that it doesn’t is its genius! I am not dyslexic. But, as I return from maternity leave, this poem speaks to my experience right now–of feeling overwhelmed, distracted, and needing intense amounts of concentration to read and write. That is also what I love about this poem. The title tells us it is about dyslexia, and yet it also speaks to other experiences. This weekend, I encourage you, like Lilly, to write about a mental or emotional state that is difficult to capture using a metaphor. How can you enact that feeling through your words, your sentence structures, your formatting, your punctuation, and everything else at your disposal? Exciting to be back and looking forward to reading your work! From Stone Soup May 2022 Dyslexia By Lilly Davatzes, 11 (Jenkintown, PA) Letters crash around me like waves in a storm, knocking me down, pulling me into the sea of words as distractions fly around me like birds. Birds, like words, dive down in a swarm. to read more from the May 2022 issue, including another poem by Lilly, click here! Stone Soup is published by Children’s Art Foundation-Stone Soup Inc., a 501(c)(3) educational nonprofit organization registered in the United States of America, EIN: 23-7317498. Stone Soup’s advisors: Abby Austin, Mike Axelrod, Annabelle Baird, Jem Burch, Evelyn Chen, Juliet Fraser, Zoe Hall, Montanna Harling, Alicia & Joe Havilland, Lara Katz, Rebecca Kilroy, Christine Leishman, Julie Minnis, Jessica Opolko, Tara Prakash, Denise Prata, Logan Roberts, Emily Tarco, Rebecca Ramos Velasquez, Susan Wilky.

How Stories Work—Writing Workshop #37: Poetry (Revisited)

An update from our thirty-seventh Writing Workshop with Conner Bassett A summary of the workshop held on Saturday, May 14, plus some of the output published below During every session, Conner devotes one workshop to discussing poetry—namely, how a poem functions. This week we again brought our attention to poetry, beginning with a personal anecdote about Conner’s experience watching Waiting for Godot as an 8-year-old. What Waiting for Godot taught him, and what he taught us today, is that if art (more specifically a poem) can be immediately understood, it is likely bad art. “A poem,” he said, “has an emotional importance you can’t quite articulate.” Or, as we learned from “Ars Poetica” by Arhibald Macleish, “A poem should not mean but be.” We also defined a poem as a body of writing more attentive to the “how” of language than to the “what.” In other words, a poem’s mode of writing is the content, and all poems are language about language. From this definition, we discussed two ways to write a poem: one, by focusing on what a poem shows, and two, by focusing on how a poem sounds. Over the course of this workshop we read “Pope John” by Bernadette Mayer, “In the Station of the Metro” by Ezra Pound, an excerpt from T.S. Eliot’s “The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock,” “The Snow is Melting” by Kobayashi Issa, “marry at a hotel, annul ’em” by Harryette Mullen, and “Poisonous Plants of America” by Elizabeth Willis. The Challenge: Write a twenty line poem with these following prompts: begin poem with a metaphor say something specific but utterly ridiculous use at least one image for all five senses use one example of synesthesia use the proper name of a person and the proper name of a place contradict something you said earlier in the poem change direction or digress from the last thing you said use one word you would not expect to see in a poem use an example of false cause and effect logic use a phrase or a piece of language you have overheard in conversation recently write a sentence using the following construction: the, adjective, concrete noun, of, abstract noun write an image in such a way that reverses its usual associative qualities make the persona or character in the poem do something they could not do in real life write a sentence in which you refer to yourself by a nickname in the third person write a sentence in the future tense, such that part of the poem seems to be a prediction write a noun with an unlikely adjective make a declarative assertion that sounds convincing but that ultimately makes no sense use a phrase from a language other than English make a nonhuman object do something human close the poem with a vivid image that makes no statement, but that echoes an image from earlier in the poem. The Participants: Nova, Emma, Josh, Ellie, Fatehbir, Shiva, Chelsea, Alice, Zar To watch all of the readings from this workshop, click here.  Emma Hoff, 10(Bronx, NY) The Rose on the Dining Room Table Emma Hoff, 1o The rose was a child’s wrongly stained hand, the eager postman ate his donut while sitting in the mailbox, the lemon tasted sour, smelled sweet, looked salty, felt spicy, sounds like water, the rushing of waves is gray, Emma Catherine Hoff lives in the Bronx, New York City. The rose was a clean and fresh adult, the waves are rocking me so hard, arachnid, if you work out too much, you will wilt and become unhealthy, “the only emperor is the emperor of ice cream.” The sinister dishwasher of color, the spiderweb was metal, sharp like a shark’s tooth, Randy Brown hovered upstairs, Em was a girl who had no nickname, she will find this poem on a piece of paper. The cow was bright red, honestly, I’m sure if you just go to the bakery, you’ll find your chihuahua, ya ne chitatel’, ya pisatel’, the glass jar sung its song, the rose is like a bird on a cloud.