Last month, Tanita Davis shared the October challenge the Poetry Pals/Sisters/Princesses (and anyone else who'd like to join in) are tackling. Tanita says:
Here’s the scoop: We’re building! Our prompt comes from p. 139 of The Practice of Poetry: Writing Exercises from Poets Who Teach, edited by Robin Behn and Chase Twichell, and we’re writing a poem in which we literally build and/or take apart something – large or small. Our focus will be on constructing or deconstructing, taking into account technical terms, instructions, and perhaps even material sources.
I didn't entirely stick to the prompt, as my building isn't literal, but, hey, no one's grading us, so here's what I came up with.
How to Build a Life in Ten Steps
Karen Edmisten
Step 1
Be born. Cry, because that’s an appropriate response to encountering the world. (Other, more complicated, feelings will come later.)
Step 2
Grow a bit. Move forward. (You've no choice in this step, though know you will take some steps backward.)
Step 3
Look at the world around you. Marvel. Despair. Be wide-eyed. Stomp your feet. Wander down some roads not taken.
Step 4
Grow some more. Consult the manual. (Admit you’ve been ignoring it.) Be tempted to throw it in the trash because some of the hardware it mentions is missing.
Step 5
Fall in love. Laugh. Swear off falling in love. Sob. Fall in like, lust, loneliness, lackadaisy. Be a childless cat lady and shout it from the rooftops. Fall again, and now again. Write it all down in your diary.
Step 6
Learn cliches and use them recklessly:
“How time flies!”
“Where do the years go?”
“You’re all grown up!”
Nod at the truth and the lies of them.
Step 7
Consult the manual again. This isn’t going the way you planned. Things look wobbly, wonky. There aren’t enough dowels, or nails, or latches (see Figure B). Are you missing the shelf (Part C)? Where is Part D, the foundational backing that’s supposed to hold the whole structure in place?
Step 8
Persevere through the love/hate thing you have with this project. Improvise. Stick those wobbly bits together with duct tape.
Step 9
Call in a friend for a consultation. Have a beer. (“Does this look wonky to you? Be honest.”)
Step 10
Put the manual down. Drop the hammer (but not on your foot.) Stop trying to build this life. This life has been building you.
“It looks unique and beautiful!” your friend says.
Choose to believe her.
~~~~~~~~~~
The Poetry Friday round-up this week is being hosted by the lovely Carol Varsalona at Beyond LiteracyLink.
Photo courtesy of Pexels.
21 comments:
Very creative, Karen. I could see and relate to all your steps. I especially love the message at the end.
This life has been building you. LOVE. xo
Thank you, Rose! Huzzah for all such friends.
Thanks so much, Irene! (xo right back atcha.) :)
I so love that this list ends in hope, Karen. Thank you!
On some days, I wonder "Where is Part D", still after all the years, I am happy for your ending - truth wins out! This could help many who are wandering, Karen! Thanks for your building!
Patricia, thank you. Upon rereading, it comes across as bleaker than I intended, but I did manage to end on a hopeful note. :)
Linda, yes, Part D is sometimes elusive, but everything somehow holds together. :) ❤️
I love this, Karen! Thank you for sharing your poem🤗 (hope my library system has this book)
LOVE this, Karen. So clever and creative. Step 7 made me smile. All of it so true, and you nailed the ending!
Karen, this made me laugh and smile with recognition! “Nod to the truth and the lies of them” is so fitting.
Karen, I felt the surge to move forward throughout your poem which is a unique response to the Poetry Sisters' Challenge. You constructed a manual for us. I am glad that you provided clear steps. I ordered an ironing board this week with no directions for the pull-out iron shelf. Thanks for a bit of laughter and wisdom
Karen, I love this! I found the steps so relatable!
Oh, Karen. I love everything about this.
"Consult the manual. This isn't going the way you planned."
There are DEFINITELY some bits of hardware mentioned that are missing from the flat-pack, but once you put down the hammer, perhaps you'll find you don't need them after all. LOVELY.
Oh, Karen! This gets better and better as it goes along. It's wonderful! I feel like it should be "gift book" picture book that you give to new graduates. <3
Like Laura, I think this would make a wonderful gift book. I can relate to each step. I love how it makes you think and process toward the wonderful ending...Believe her.
* elli, I hope you are able to find the book! Enjoy.
* Jama, thanks so much! Yes, Step 7 is so familiar to me. ;)
* Thank you, Tracey!
* Carol, the instructions-for-assembly these days are mostly pictures, aren't they? And sometimes they're baffling. :D
* Ruth, thank you, friend!
* Thanks, Tanita. That lack of hardware can cause such headaches. :)
* Laura, that's so kind! What a fun idea.
* Margaret, thanks for seconding the notion, too. :)
I love every single bit of this! I'm trying so hard to put the manual down and appreciate the wonky beauty of what life and I have built together!
I adored this, Karen, especially this gleaming bit:
Marvel. Despair. Be wide-eyed.
Love this! And oh that pesky manual.
I love this entire poem! I wish I had written it. Well done about no choice in growth, steps backward, missing pieces...and it's beautiful, just beautiful. Well done, YOU!
* Mary Lee, yes, appreciate the wonky beauty. :)
* Liz, thank you so much!
* Thanks, Marcie!
* Linda, you're so kind. Thank you!
Post a Comment