Saturday, March 26, 2011

Local Students

I've spent the past couple weeks visiting classrooms at Hanover High School and Delone Catholic High School. As always, I am impressed by the talent of our community's young people. Thanks for great classes and for emailing me so many poems! And thanks to the teachers for their efforts to include poetry and creative writing in their curriculum! If you are a teacher who is interested in having me visit your class, please send me an e-mail, and we can set it up: bradyke@gmail.com.

Ragged Edge Open Mic

On April 1st, Dana Sauers will reopen her reading series at Ragged Edge in Gettysburg at 7 p.m. Come, bring your friends, and bring some poems to read!

2nd Annual Poetry Contest for National Poetry Month

I am now accepting entries through the end of April for my second annual poetry contest. Please send up to 3 poems to bradyke@gmail.com, including "Contest" and your age group in the subject line. The age groups are: elementary, middle school, high school, and adult.

Feel free to send original work or to respond to the following prompt:

We all experience changes in our lives. No matter how large or small, these changes often force us to go through some kind of transformation. We always retain our roots, but inevitably, we gain something in the process. Write a poem about a transformation you have experienced in your life. How did this change affect you or your environment?

If you have any questions, send me an email! I look forward to reading your work.

March Column

First published in The Evening Sun on March 27, 2011:

Spring is finally here. As the flowers peek from the soil and the sun sets later in the evening, we watch winter make its muddy transition into spring. Most look forward to a change in the weather, but each change, no matter how big or small, forces us to adapt or transform in some way along with it. For instance, some are still adjusting to the clocks springing forward, and others must prepare for high pollen counts in the air. Each person adjusts in his or her own way.

Whether it is a new season, job, move, or even a new coat of paint, changes allow us to see our surroundings, and maybe even ourselves, in a different way. As I think about the changes we all face in our lives, one thing is certain: our lives never stay the same. Things always pop up to surprise us and change our direction. In turn, these circumstances, and our reactions to them, sometimes challenge us to transform ourselves.

After I moved to San Juan, Puerto Rico over the summer, I witnessed a transformation within myself. Living in the tropics, surrounded by Spanish and Puerto Rican culture, forced me to adapt to my surroundings, while it also taught me the patience it takes to make a big change.

Transformation does not always inspire comfort. Just like our current movement into spring, it is often muddy. However, in the following poem, which I wrote in Puerto Rico, I outline my process, comparing it to a bird building its nest.

Nesting


Most days I am a sparrow
building nests in kapok branches
to distract from the thick air,
from the ocean swelling all around.
I swim my words and thrash
when I go under,
but soon eggs will drop into my throat
and leave my mouth in another language,
my bird tongue curled in release.
I’m growing wider wings, too,
ones that catch salt water
like the lone pelican, tasting fish
at the sight of each bubble.
My sparrow claws clench, wait.

During a recent visit to Dana Sauers' class at Delone Catholic High School, I shared this poem with some of her students. One student pointed out that while I began "growing wider wings," I maintained my "sparrow claws." Although I felt myself growing and changing, parts of my core remained the same.

Maybe this is the best lesson I have learned. Originally, I had planned to live in Puerto Rico for five years, but due to unforeseen circumstances, I had to leave and now live in Hanover. Once again, I find myself rebuilding a nest, transitioning back to the place of my roots.

However, even though I live in the place where I was raised, my past transformations give me other layers to draw from. Lately, as I write poems, I begin with a list of images from the day, but soon Spanish words and ocean images creep into my lines. Wherever we go, however our lives change, we can only draw from the vault of images unique to our own experiences. In fact, our personal lens, through which each of us sees the world, makes us all poets in vision. The only step between experience and a poem is actually writing it all down.

As spring begins, along with so much new life around us, I challenge everyone to reflect on the changes in their lives and to write poems about their transformations. In honor of April, National Poetry Month, I am holding my second annual poetry contest for people of all ages in the community. Like last year's contest, there will be four main categories: elementary, middle school, high school, and adult. Each poet should e-mail up to three poems to bradyke@gmail.com, with "Contest" and your age group in the subject line.

For this year's contest, poets should send original work or respond to the following prompt:
We all experience changes in our lives. No matter how large or small, these changes often force us to go through some kind of transformation. We always retain our roots, but inevitably, we gain something in the process. Write a poem about a transformation you have experienced in your life. How did this change affect you or your environment?

I will accept entries through the month of April and look forward to reading your poems! For more information, please check out my blog: http://poetlaureathanover.blogspot.com.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

January Column

This first appeared in The Evening Sun on January 23, 2011

Wash day always frightened Barbara J. Fink, who grew up in Union City, New Jersey, just outside of New York City. Every Monday Fink's mother would hang out of the second-story window to pull the dry wash inside, and as a little girl, Fink would cling to her mother's legs in an effort to ground her inside the house.

This is one of the many memories Fink reminisced about when we discussed her poems. She said, "It's nice to know your roots, your family," and hopes that those who read her poems will take pleasure in looking back.

Sometimes we spend so much time looking forward, especially during the month of January when we make resolutions for the year ahead. However, we can't forget that Janus, the Roman god who inspired the name January, had two faces so he could look forward and backward.

Thus, we should not forget the stories of our past, such as Fink's grandfather’s, who peddled fruits and vegetables from his cart in her community. Early in the morning he would take his horse and cart on a ferry across the river into New York City where he bought produce at the market. At the end of the day, her grandfather dropped the reins, and "George horse" knew his way back to the barn at the end of their cobblestone backyard.

If you walked through her backyard on a Monday and looked up, you would see her mother's wash flapping in the breeze. The following poem, Fink's second attempt at poetry, shows much promise for her new-found gift of words. She shows the reader each step of her mother's wash day through all seasons, and I know some of you will remember this process.

Wash Day Circa 1930


Set up the washboard, drag out the huge pot
Some whites were boiled, believe it or not.

Use a big wooden paddle and stir away
So labor intensive was Monday, washday.

Octegon soap was the cleaner of choice
Big golden bar in the water immerse.

Rub, scrub, rub on the old tin board
It was the best Daddy could afford.

A cake of bluing wrapped in cheesecloth
Made an acceptable result come forth.

Dip, swish, swish the bluing pack
All was done as a matter of fact.

Washing and rinsing now all done
Wringing by hand--oh what fun.

Wooden pins in a bag shaped as a dress
I didn't enjoy washday I must confess.

Hanging out the window, I can see Mama still
Winter winds whipping through the house now so chill.

The line was attached to a pole in the yard
And I, the skinny one, became Mama's lifeguard.

I'd hang on to her legs with all of my might
Quivering and shaking and brimming with fright.

If Mama should tumble out what would I do?
I'd call Granny, Grandma and Aunt Gussie too!

They lived all around us on the same street
Surely they'd know her wounds how to treat!

Well dear Mama would hang her wash for the week
I remember the line pulley, oh how it did squeak.

Stripes must be hung in all one direction
Strive, strive she would to reach perfection.

Dirndl skirts and peasant blouses
Sheets, towels and Daddy's work trousers.

Neighbors would judge your wifely skills, you know
If your colors were bright and your whites were as snow.

All would flap, flap in the soft summer breeze
However come winter and all would then freeze.

Mama would go to the window once more
And again she would be chilled to the core.

Reverse the procedure and pull everything in
All frozen solid--how could she win?

Daddy's long johns frozen as stiff as could be
Stood up in the corner for all to see.

Finally defrosted in a puddle they lay
Waiting to dry on a subsequent day.

And so it would go this Monday game
Until, you guessed it, it was Monday again.


Fink moved to Hanover from Whiting, New Jersey eight years ago and just began writing poems this past summer. For years her sister and cousin exchanged poems regularly, but after her sister's death, she has begun writing and sharing poems with her cousin. Fink is currently writing the next poem in her series: Tuesday, ironing day. Her mother's days of the week dishtowels embroidered with each day's work inspired this set of poems.

February Column

This first appeared in The Evening Sun on February 27, 2011.

Spending my time teaching mostly college students, some days I get the feeling all creativity has been rationalized out of people by the time they become adults, or even high school students.

However, when I walked into Guthrie Memorial Library last month to visit the teen writing group, I found the complete opposite: a group of teenagers bubbling over with passion for the written word. These teens have created their own space to share their most personal ideas and writing with other enthusiastic young writers.

The idea for the group was Nichole Krichten's, a junior at New Oxford High School. She writes, "I decided to start the writing group because I have a passion for writing, and was looking for a club to join. Unfortunately I found out that neither my school nor the library had a writing club." So, she started one herself.

Krichten's idea has created a writing home for a dedicated group of young writers who meet twice a month in the library. "The group provides a friendly atmosphere where teens can come and share their writing, and get constructive criticism to help improve their work. I have benefited from the group immensely. The group helps bring me out of my shell, and allows me to share my feelings and writing without fear of being judged."

Krichten shares her work, like the following poem, "Nature's Sorrow," with the group:

Nature's Sorrow

Rain falls gently
On a warm summer night
Clouds block the stars from view
As the sky cries
Bathing the world in sorrow
The wind howls in anguish
As the storm builds
Lightning rends the sky
As anger joins the fray,
Thunder booms,
The pounding of fists
Balled against the pain
Rain lashes the earth
Tears flowing without end
No one to ease the pain,
For who can comfort Nature?
She has only herself.

Another member of the writing group, Christian Torres, is a junior at Hanover High School and has been writing for three years. He reflects, "The writing group at Guthrie Library has helped me acknowledge themes that are always apparent in my poems and/or short stories. They've critiqued my work thoroughly, helping me realize some deeper aspects of literature as an art."

Torres wrote the following poem, "Angels in the Night" to combine "the opposing beliefs of Creationism." He successfully found a way for them both to exist in a short poem.
Angels in the Night

Once in pitched darkness,
our roar was genesis.
Batting our feathered wings.
As heaven's fireworks,
we shine, even through twilight.

Of his audience, Torres writes, "I want to inspire inner strength and valor to those who read my poems, so they too can defeat their 'darkness' and emerge victorious." The teen writing group helps to validate Torres' ideas, ideas that would "be impossible if not on paper."

Daniel Miller, a third writing group member, is a sophomore at New Oxford High School. He has been writing since last year and applies similar themes to his poetry as Torres. Of his audience, Miller writes, "I hope that they take this poem and see that even if it seems hopeless and unbearable at the time, that they should not give up hope for it is truly all we have." The following poem by Miller is untitled:

Life, once a feathers flight,
now a stone's weight in the pond of life.
Down, down, down the stone sinks,
forever dreaming of heaven's golden light.
Waiting, hoping for a chance at paradise,
to shed this nearly unbearable weight
and feel the blissful grace of the feathers flight.

When asked about his inspiration, Miller responds, "I write because it is the only way I can paint a picture. I use my words like the paint, and my mind the brush."

The writing group has also had an impact on Miller and his writing. "[It] has helped me better understand not only my writing but also more about myself. I have found new activities to improve my writing through the group, and I have also met amazing people with a common interest."

Nanci Mart, an 8th grade English teacher at New Oxford Middle School, helps facilitate the writing group and emphasizes its importance: "The teen years are tough. As kids begin to think for themselves and develop into the person they want to be, they often face resistance and criticism from the people they most trust. In the writer's group, participants are baring their souls to each other, and we all respect that. It's a safe place for kids to express themselves, and it's a great way for them to be validated as writers."