About 10 years ago or so, I used to write a lot of teen-angst-y poetry. I never had the intention of reading it aloud for anyone but my closest friends (who did not give a crap, but were nice and pretended). And then there was Brady's Cafe. A locally owned coffee shop where once a month people would gather and do the spoken word poetry. People of all ages came to perform their works. I performed there too.
Brady's is now a Starbucks, I live in AZ, and I haven't written for years.
But then there was light.
A few months ago I signed on to help in a spoken word poetry class for high school kids in Phoenix (through my Free Arts of Arizona volunteer relationship). I dug out all my old journals and saw the angst, frustration, and hormones that had flavored my writing so many years before.
For the most part, these young people are not writing the doom/gloom stuff, but interesting pop culture bemusements. I'm learning a lot from them and I cherish that. So, today in class we worked on Odes, here's mine :
An Ode to the Moon
You are smiling down from the dusty remainders of a sunset sky
Red harvest moon or gray goddess, you hang low
as though you are eagerly awaiting my invitation.
Your pock-marked face troubles me not,
as the pull of your gravity rocks oceans and hips.
Good night sweet moon
mistress
confidant
lantern.
Brady's is now a Starbucks, I live in AZ, and I haven't written for years.
But then there was light.
A few months ago I signed on to help in a spoken word poetry class for high school kids in Phoenix (through my Free Arts of Arizona volunteer relationship). I dug out all my old journals and saw the angst, frustration, and hormones that had flavored my writing so many years before.
For the most part, these young people are not writing the doom/gloom stuff, but interesting pop culture bemusements. I'm learning a lot from them and I cherish that. So, today in class we worked on Odes, here's mine :
An Ode to the Moon
You are smiling down from the dusty remainders of a sunset sky
Red harvest moon or gray goddess, you hang low
as though you are eagerly awaiting my invitation.
Your pock-marked face troubles me not,
as the pull of your gravity rocks oceans and hips.
Good night sweet moon
mistress
confidant
lantern.
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From the film Roadhouse (1989)
Dalton
All you have to do is follow three simple rules. One, never underestimate your opponent. Expect the unexpected. Two, take it outside. Never start anything inside the bar unless it's absolutely necessary. And three, be nice.