Category: Poetry

A few weeks ago, near the beginning of the month, I was invited by Christie Wyman of Wondering and Wandering to participate in a TeachWrite workshop hosted by Jennifer Laffin. As life right now would have it, I wasn’t able to participate in the next workshop, but I was able to participate in one last week. It was fun, and I thank both Christie and Jennifer for the opportunity to be there (Zoom there?).

As the workshop got started, the participants were invited to do a number of things, one of which was to write in our notebooks.

Notebooks.

Errr, my notebook.

I have a strange relationship* with notebooks. In principle, I love them. I have several. I encourage (okay, require) my classroom students to use them. I mean, come on: A notebook! All writers use notebooks, right? I have several, and I even write in them. On occasion. Sometimes. Okay…rarely.

I know I’m supposed to, but more often than not, when I need a notebook to jot down an idea I don’t have one with me. Yes, I’ve tried a pocket notebook, but it only lasted a few days. What about when you sit down to write, one might ask? Honestly, typing (keyboarding…I know) is just easier. As an added bonus, when I use a computer, my work is now on all of my devices since I write in the world that is Google.

Anyway, back to the workshop. I did! I did write in my notebook. The novelty of doing so got me thinking about the process, and the first two stanzas of a poem actually came out of the time with the group. In the spirit of things, I actually finished the piece, then revised and edited it with a pencil on the page. Oddly enough, it came out with a rhyme scheme. That doesn’t happen often, but I like it when it does

Despite the ending, I really do like notebooks. Sort of.

Notebook

A pencil on paper
A mark on the page
It’s like watching live music
Or an actor on stage

It’s not fingers on keys
And there isn’t a screen
It’s real, and it’s physical
Do you see what I mean?

Is it good? Is it better?
This writing by hand?
Does this scribbling unplugged
See my vision expand?

I think that it doesn’t
— Leave those voices ignored
You can keep all that scratching
And I’ll keep the keyboard

*then again, maybe I don’t–maybe I have a normal one and just don’t know it!

To anthropomorphize

As I understand it

Is to give human qualities to that which is not human

If I’m not mistaken

the two sparrows on the railing of my porch

Are arguing about that very thing

 Tim Gels,  April 2020

During the winter and spring, we typically have a pair of wrens who spend the night tucked into the corner of the roof on our front porch. Sometimes there is only one, and sometimes there are three. We enjoy their presence, seeing them only when the garage light is turned on.