Sunday, August 28, 2011

August Column

First published in The Evening Sun on August 28, 2011:

Upon first hearing Lancaster poet Annie Ginder read her work, I wrote in my notebook, "In the world of your poem, I want to lie in its grass." Her images immediately drew me into the world she created with words, and I knew I wanted to inhabit that space.

All of Ginder's poetry exudes this sense of comfort, inspired by simple, yet poignant, universal moments. In her poem, "Each Other," Ginder's images show the fleeting connections we make with each other amid the glaring reality of displacement and disconnect.


Each Other


So much of this earth remains shy or has fallen from the road I take
the beautifully round face of an old friend, her hearty laughter in unison with my own

At times, I find myself in the picture of a man's tie
or between the diamond and sapphire rows of a woman's ring

The moon is with me again, sifting these thoughts in the wind
that speak to each other of the dark rain and fragrant snow

yet we only sense each other vaguely

And while we are trying to pull ourselves together
the things we have to do pull us apart

the way fire burns wood, warms water

To say I will touch your blood is to say I will die with you
in the shadows of the field, in the night, in the morrow

I have dreams where I can see the wind, your silence
we are never the same from moment to coal blue moment

The wooden chair you sit in speaks like the rain
and time is sweet behind me


I compare the experience of reading Ginder's poetry to driving on a winding road and finding a new, refreshing surprise around each corner. It makes me want to keep driving because her words also pave a road of familiar images that keep the reader grounded.

Poetry has always been a part of Ginder's life. She began writing poems about Janis Joplin and John Lennon in her journal as a young girl, while living on a farm in Poughkeepsie, NY. She said, "I started writing so I would know what my truth was." The act of writing helped her to separate her thoughts from her surroundings.

When she moved to Lancaster about twenty years ago, she found a Beat-like group of artists and writers, with whom she found the courage to read her work aloud for the first time. In "While Reading Poetry Aloud At 127 East Walnut Street," Ginder again uses imagery to create snapshots of her process, the push and pull moments of gathering courage.


While Reading Poetry Aloud At 127 East Walnut Street


I got this room by the neck
my hands around its throat
like a winter coat
just keeping it warm

kids outside
wrap their screaming voices
around each other

my own voice and lips
falter and part
like the husk of the corn
not quite torn off the cob
left open and silent
robbed by the voice of the wind

a mothers arms
gathering her children
scattering them again


Ginder calls writing "a stabilizing thing" in her life, something that helps her stay "grounded." Thus, her love for writing has inspired her to share this passion with others. Besides encouraging creativity in her son and daughter, she also facilitates a writing workshop at Oak Leaf Manner Retirement Home and has led an after-school enrichment program, which focuses on creative writing, at Pequea Elementary School. She would like to continue to help others, especially our young people, embrace their imaginations through poetry.

Ginder has been published in several journals, including Melange, Blue Guitar, and Draw on the Wall, among others. As far as process, she emphasizes giving herself the time and space to write. Balancing her family and her work, she often finds herself writing on the porch, where she can focus. Ginder's advice to new writers is to "capture it while it's there, even if it's one line."

My challenge to you for September is to do just that. If you see something that inspires you or if an idea pops into your head, write it down and share it with someone else!