Writing Wings For You

Marie Lukasik Wallace ~ # I LIVE Poetry – I'm passionate about life and writing and all things creative and poetic!

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When Writing isn’t Easy – Found Poems and Collaborative Poems

Because I do Poetry Therapy and because I teach writing to a variety of age groups, I know how real and scary this WRITING BEAST can be.  I know the reluctance of some of my writers to fill the page or the reluctance to even approach the page, even if they might enjoy writing.  So, I pull out my tips and tricks bag..

One thing I do before each genre in my classroom is model, model, model.  Do you know that students go through most of their school career without seeing an adult write?  And yet, they are suppose to perform so many different forms of writing.  If they’re a good researcher, then they get lucky.

In Poetry Therapy, we use poetry as an avenue to learn and discover things about ourselves and our world as we write.  We also get to try out various different poetic styles.  For me, this is just delightful!

Challenge:  In Poetry Therapy, I use a poem by e.e. cummings, “Love is a Place,” (I call it Yes is a World.)  If you could say yes to anything, big or small, what would it be?  Start small like your favorite things.  I say “Yes to icecream or reading a book wrapped in a blanket.”  or you can go deeper like, I say, “Yes to loving my family fiercely.”  or

Challenge:  Cut out one of the strongest lines from about 7-10 of your favorite poems.   Play with them and arrange them until you find how they flow together for you.  Enjoy the journey!

Alternate challenge:  You could also do this with your favorite blogs/bloggers.  (If you publish, ask their permission.)

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Tomorrow, I will do a post through young poets’ eyes. You will be amazed how our adult eyes have been veiled by so many things that are pure and beautiful.


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I got brave today and read my dad, Ernest, two chapters of his biography.  You say, “How is that brave?”

And I would say, “Have you ever tried to measure up to your parents?” Not to mention measuring up OUT LOUD to the world?   It’s scary!  It’s not so much about the writing as to making sure I’m telling HIS story, encompassing details and events, with limited knowledge (because he just started telling me about his life), and weaving in interpreted feelings that he rarely talks about….so it’s not easy.   Ernest is a “vaulted” man, who is becoming a little less vaulted, but I think sometimes emotion is still a trigger that scares him…

I took a deep breath and read it through out loud with voice and how I heard that voice in my had through my telephone conversations with him. 

My own mind tortured me as I was reading. What do you think you’re doing? With your limited writing skills, what qualifies you to write a book, let alone your dad’s life’s book? What if you don’t capture what he’s truly feeling? What if you get the facts wrong or say something that’s not true.”

And then, I thought back to my call to my beautiful writing friend who knows how fragile this journey is for me…She assured me that what I was doing was healing for both my dad and me. And as I talked to her I realized that the writing wasn’t as important as this beautiful journey of discovery that I was on with my dad. Slow down Marie, and enjoy the journey.

I finished reading the last of the chapter and held my breath. I desperately wanted him to like it…no, love it.

There was a pause and then he said, “Well, I don’t know how you did it, but you captured exactly what I was feeling.” I let my breath out and sighed a sigh of pure relief. And then, I felt a smile slip across my face. He assured me that he would assist me with parts that may not be accurate as far as information. He was grateful for the work I did. He didn’t say he was proud, but I knew he was happy. And that, my friends, was enough for me.

Ernest and I…Me and my daddy..are speaking a new language. We are learning new things about each other, finding common ground. Oh daddy, I do love you so, dark skeletons and all. Thank YOU for being brave. Because you were brave, then I could be brave.


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I LOVE Life…I LIVE life…I WRITE life

So, my husband says, “You are a right brained person.  Why do you try to confine yourself in a left brain world?  You have varied interests.  Blog about them all!”  “But,” I implore, “my readers will be confused.”  And then gently he reminds me, ” The blog is for you, “

So…I love Writing as Healing..and I love poetry as well as any other kind of writing…and I love family and savory food and art and photography and little things that fancy me,  I LOVE life…I LIVE life…I WRITE life….and so it is.

In honor  of loving writing challenges, I shall take this one from NaPoWriMO,

 

A Loving Human World,
 There are marks everywhere
I’m formed by some love streaks on paper
He lives on this paper,
a GRAND image
Standing on fields of green and flowers
light and beauty abounds all around
even in shadowy corners
I see myself in strange footage
Seeing everything in its truest form
I can sense he’ll approach with his encouraging arms
And embrace all that I am
even the ugly parts
aligned with pieces of love charms.
This love envelopes me, 
protects me
opens me more.
My world is a bunch of stray love marks
Drawn onto this paper
revealing me in all my accepted humanness. 

 

 


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Creating a New Blogging World – Finding the Gold in YOU

Ahhh…I remember the old days of blogging when I did Creativespiritfaery.  My life was busy with family and teaching and I needed a creative outlet.  I tried on art.  I was okay at art.  I was better at blogging.  I created a whole world of new friends, a place to escape and learn and grow.  What was the coolest about that blogging experience was the fact that I had friends from all around the world, all ages, all ethnicities, all religions, and they were never barriers.  It was never brought up.  What was brought up were our common “human experiences,”  our love of life, our dis.appointments, our hopes and dreams.  I reveled in this world.  The characters were real and supportive and encouraging and got me through some dark spots.  I learned to be a better person and a better mom, and I learned to be enough.

I miss this world.  I know that I will have it again as I slowly begin to rebuild my new writing community.  For my friends, we have more in common than we don’t have in common, and I love learning all about you.      I’m on a quest for gold, and the gold is in you…each and every one of you.  I can’t wait to discover it!  Won’t you send me a treasure map to find you?


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When you get STUCK!!! – a Writer’s Tools

Ever had those days when you get stuck?  I don’t mean a little stuck.  I mean SHUT DOWN everything kind of stuck.  Well it happened to me.  No matter what I tried, a paragraph, an article,  rewriting already written pieces!  Nothing would help.  I decided to take out one of my Poetry tools, and just play.  My work, teaching, sometimes keeps me in left brain so much, I forget to jump to the right brain and just play,                               And who doesn’t love to play?

Since I’ve been writing my dad’s story, I decided to at least try a tool that might assist me toward this goal.  So, I made Alzheimer’s a character.  Weird, right?  It was glorious!   I used a poetry technique called Personification.   What would Alzheimer’s house look like?  What kind of car would it drive?  What would it’s clothes and shoes be like?   That’s only the start and pretty easy to fill out a list type of thing.  Lists become handy when you’re stuck, but this made me a more targeted list.

But where things get really juicy is going deeper.   How do I get to the heart and soul of Alzheimer’s and showcase the role it plays in people’s lives, both bad and good?   I begin to write down Alzheimer’s “friends” and “enemies.”    Once I know who Alzheimer’s friends are, I am naming out loud what parts hurt and what role they play in my life-word thief,  relationship thief, sadness, depression, scatterbrained and scarcity, locked vault.  Then, as I name Alzheimer’s enemies, I get to name what parts I am missing in my life, so I can name my loss and again renew the process of healing-  happiness, peace of mind, abundance, HOPE.

And even deeper – EVERY CHARACTER HAS A REDEEMING QUALITY –

Just like anything in life, there are two sides to every story, even Alzheimer’s.  Though it’s a terribly rotten disease that robs loved ones of many precious events, it still offers gifts.  So what is Alzheimer’s redeeming quality?  CHERISH –  It reminds me that every day is precious and to hold on and linger with every moment I have with my dad.  I MAKE MY CONVERSATIONS WITH MY DAD COUNT!  I record each conversation, even the little ones.  I want to remember my dad saying I love you.  I want to remember the silly sayings and funny voices he uses to greet me each day.  I want to remember that this vaulted man took a chance on ME.  He is trusting me with his precious life books.  He is trusting me to hold on to those stories that in sometimes day to day life are elusive to him.  He, like all of us, wants to be understood before it’s too late.  If I didn’t cherish the time I had with my dad, I might have lost out on learning who he really is.  Without this time, I might not have really honored and treasured that precious laugh and sense of humor.   I am blessed in this moment.


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Good Morning Daddy

It was a beautiful day yesterday.  I found my daddy.  I got to play on the phone with him for a whole hour, and it was breathtakingly beautiful.  I revel in these moments because sometimes they are few and far between.   He played in his childhood and I got to watch in my mind’s eye a glimpse of his happiness after eight days of darkness. He told me of his journey in finding and loving words (another wonderful story for a future post.)   I marvel at how dad’s love of words and learning was passed down to each of us kids.  He wrote poetry and did crosswords and memorized most every word in the dictionary. As he talked of his journey, I heard his voice dance.  His love of words as he spoke so remarkably evident.  Now, I know where my love for words sprouted because the seed was planted.

We did not linger here.  Our journey took us many places.  That’s the beauty and the tragedy of Alzheimer’s.  You never know where it will take you.  Sometimes you wait with baited breath for stories to go deeper and sometimes you wait for fearful stories to end.  But each path is honored and each journey a memory to be treasured.  Because remember, once this was a vaulted man who talked only of the weather.  And now…now in this moment he was telling me what mattered to him in life and he didn’t rush to get off the phone.  Good morning daddy and thanks for beginning the day with me.  It was a most wonder-mous day to begin with you.

 

Many people criticize for showing this journey publicly….but if for one minute I can give hope to others who are on this same difficult journey, then I will take all the criticism given.  Because when things get really really tough, and it seems like there’s no light in the darkness, then sometimes…sometimes…there’s a flood of light that allows you to see more than you ever saw before.  I hope to not only shed some light, but maybe some pathways to find the light.  For there is beauty in Alzheimer’s as there is in every tragic event that shapes our lives.  For all it’s ugliness, it teaches us to appreciate that loved one and hold on fastly to those moments we have with them.

We are human, and in this humanness there is two sides.  Sometimes we only see and feel one side.  It’s nice sometimes to see and feel what it’s like on the other side.  Good morning daddy and thanks for allowing me to share you with the world.


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Not Just a Barren Waterhole

A WORD WARRIOR TALE –
Thought to be just a dusty, barren waterhole to some as it lies in the furthest corner of a rancher’s neglected property, but its loveliness is endeared by me. It’s sprinkled with bluebonnets, and there is a strong old mesquite tree whose branches are heavily laden with my tears and my dreams, for it would embrace me when no one would. This place was my sanctuary, my dreamkeeper…

As dusk settled around my dungeon at home, and all were sleeping, it was time for my vigil to start and let the healing begin. With paper in hand, I would escape through a window, climb the prickly barbed fence past the “no trespassing” sign to the freedom and harmony of my secret place of refuge. As I sat in reverence of the solitude, I could hear the calming stillness of the night, scattered with cricket chirps and cicada songs. Lightning bugs visited often. I watched the brilliance of the moon as it graced the water so elegantly, weaving me into a trance.

The trance allowed my feelings to flow freely and words came alive as the events of my life ran through my mind. Through writing, I discovered the innermost parts of me, both the warrior and the princess. I engaged in battle when the ugly heads of fear, loneliness, and teenage turmoil pierced the surface of my serene world. The mighty sword of my word warrior would come crashing down on them, leaving the misery, but taking the life’s lesson with me. On other occasions when I was blessed with the beauty and power of nature surrounding me, the princess in me would gracefully dance in celebration of friendship, love, and life. I became strong, almost invincible, through my characters and imagination in this enchanted kingdom.

Even now, I can close my eyes, breathe in the mesquite, taste the rain, see the moon over the water, and feel its magi envelop me and remind me of all that took place there. And, the peace washes over me again.

Just a barren waterhole to some, but it was a site of hope and renewed life to me. No greater place have I known.


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A Dog Wouldn’t Eat It

I loved this story! Very vivid descriptions of not only your experience, but your relationship with your parents. Funny too! I think you’re brave to make yourself so vulnerable in this experience in the first place as far as bringing your cake over. However, I do know this for sure…if you keep cooking, eventually your creativity and tweaks will make something masterful. Great writing!

Stuart M. Perkins's avatarStoryshucker

My family and I talked a lot over Christmas about Daddy’s fruit cakes. His yearly project meant we would hear many times just how he was going to make it, we would have to admire the ingredients as he laid them out on the counter, and when his edible work of art was complete we would have to sample it. And we did.

Reluctantly.

But Daddy was not the only cake baker in that house. Mama’s pound cakes are well-known to family and friends. Because of recent health issues she hasn’t made one in a while but she will and we’re waiting. Mama never needed a holiday to prompt her to make a pound cake, although production ramped up during special occasions. There always seemed to be a half eaten cake on the counter and another in the freezer, usually heavily wrapped and labeled “okra” to keep us from getting…

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Writing Can tame the Alzheimer’s Beast

Alzheimer’s is a nasty beast. It seizes your loved one’s brain and steals not only their memories, but it steals their reasoning, their dignity, their strength…it makes your loved one tired and hopeless.  You watch as they struggle between reality and their alter world.  The world that they never feel safe.  They worry about someone taking things from them, and they worry about someone trying to kill them.  This sense of safety is so vital to our well being.  It’s painful to watch.  But it’s also painful because it robs us of treasured moments with our loved ones.

But, If you’re patient enough, there are good days too and the jewels come.  Fortunately for us humans that we are emotional beings.  If  events in our lives are laced with an emotional tie, we usually get lucky enough to hold onto that memory.   That is the sweet spot where I can collect my dad’s memories.  That is the sweet spot that I’ve been able to go back to his love of writing and poetry and tap into the man himself.  And my friends, it is beautiful.  Sometimes it’s just a handful of words…but to hear a man who has been emotionally vaulted most of his life, the sound of emotion, any emotion, but especially joy, is like music lilting in the air and carried on the wind.

It’s cliché to say without the rain, you don’t appreciate the sunshine, but it is the analogy that fits this scenario best.   If I hadn’t of gotten frustrated trying to collect dad’s memories, I wouldn’t have found alternate ways to reach him.  And without these alternate ways, I imagine my stories of him would be devoid of any emotion or feeling and might be a little bland.  I’ve been able to feel closer to my dad in this last year than in my entire life.  I’ve been able to get past certain memories  that are recycled and repeated to get to new stories no one has even heard.  And, as I am entrusted with these stories and I manage them with care and respect, my dad, this often closed man, begins to look forward to talking to me.  And for the little girl in me who always yearned to be close to her dad, it is pure joy.

The last time I visited my dad, sadly almost a year ago, he  let me take silly pictures with him.  Just before we went to the airport, I got this notion to take pictures because I wanted to savor the moments I was having with him, and I wanted to be “part” of the experience, not just a witness.  I pretended we were in one of those photo booths and preplanned some pictures to take.  Okay dad, “It’s time for me to go to the airport.  Let’s take a few pictures together!   We will take a serious one of course, but wouldn’t it be fun for the grandkids to see us let go and do some silly faces and fun faces and scary faces and just enjoy?”   My dad replied, “sure!”  (There was even a little enthusiasm there.)  And, we did.   And then this year when my sister, the photographer, visited him, she got dad to do the same thing with her.  And the smile on her face was absolutely beautiful.  

I am healing, and my family is healing…and it’s all through the power of words which were brave enough to hold a story, a living, breathing man’s story…I love you words.