Writing Wings For You

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

Tag Archives: writing as healing


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We Wrote Another Poem! Paint Me As I Am

In Poetry Therapy, we use poetry as a way to heal.  It’s a back door way to heal.  Actually, in my opinion, all writing is healing.  I took some sample poetry from an amazing compilation of teen poems by Writer’s Corps called “Paint Me Like I Am,” and asked my dad how he would want the world to know him. At first, this was too right brained for him. Usually he operates more left brained. So, I read him some more samples and then I used adjectives he had used previously to describe himself and asked him to delineate more on that.

Below is what Ernest, my dad, wrote, with little assistance from me. (He has arthritis and Alzheimer’s, so I’m his hand and placeholder.) What is amazing to me is that my dad was invested and even got excited to do it. He has started to call me now and has more days he talks about his life than not. He has written something our family can treasure, and I’m so proud!
PLEASE LET US KNOW IF YOU LIKE IT! HE GETS EXCITED ABOUT
PEOPLE READING HIS PAGE :0)

PAINT ME AS I AM by Ernest

Paint me working and doing my best
For I liked to make things better
Taking things that work that didn’t work before
Engines, motors, broken chairs and making them new again.

Paint me determined.
I made up my mind not to have any booze at all…
Or anything that would come near it…
I didn’t want any part of what I did before…

Paint me as keeping my thoughts and good emotions toward others
Requesting forgiveness for my stupidty…

Paint me as always looking for making a difference in life.
As time goes by, I make sure each day of my life that whatever I do and say is better…
Never wanting to give or get trouble…

Paint me independent wanting the peaceful life,
less noise and misery from people or cars and traffic and busses and sirens…
It gripes me a lot…I had enough of all that…
I have to get away from the racket.

Paint me as one whose mind holds onto better days
(don’t really care about money)
Whose richness is in the simple life,
The more simple the better
Let me just work on my cars and trucks and lawn mowers.

Paint me as determined to keep life in balance
And I’m skiing away from life itself
(the house, the dogs and the cats, and even plants.
Leave me with my critters.

Paint me without hateful words
Or holding onto hatefulness
For it puts me out of balance…

Paint me happy and content with my life.

***It might need some editing, but it’s great for a first draft. :0)


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Poetry Through a Young Poet’s Eyes

 

Rain

By a first grader (no editing) 

Come on rain

It’s getting hot here

in the sun

Rain rain

Come on

I want to play

with you in the clouds

You make puddles

For me to play in

You make it quiet

You make it calm

Rain

 

I love how we hadn’t even talked about personification, and he was already inviting rain, like a friend to come out and play.  By the way, this poem is on the second day of poetry and done by a boy.   He did such a brilliant job, the other boys followed suit.  However, one must note we enjoy several poems a week all year long.

 

Raindrops

By Rylee Ford

 

Rain tickles your feet.

You’re splashing in puddles.

Kids beg their mommas

 To get their swimming suits on

 And go play.

It tickles your forehead.

Kids splash and play in the rain.

It goes down your back.

It tickles your back.

You giggle, you laugh, you splash.

 

Again, it showcases such freedom to interact with words.  This was also done on the second day of poetry and has a musicality to it. 

I wanted to showcase how easy it is for a six year old to write poetry.  How do we lose this sense of noticing and awe and wonder?  Of all the genres I teach, this is the genre that’s usually the easiest for the kids because they LIVE poetry.  Almost everything a first grader says is poetry.  I try to capture snippets of what they say because it is not only precious but sometimes quite genius! 

This exercise was done after doing some artwork that we wanted parents to see and I thought it would be cool to have some poetry with it.  As a teacher, I’ve learned to watch my world a little slower…a little easier…and try to see it through first grade eyes.

WHAT CAN YOU LEARN FROM A SIX YEAR OLD?


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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 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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There are Gems in Them There Hills!

bluebonnetsWe have finished day 8 of the vaulted man being sealed up tight.  The words are locked up fiercely between the Spring clogging up dad’s mind and seizing his senses and the Alzheimer’s playing tricks on him. It’s been a tough week for both of us.  For my dad, the fears are getting more real.  People went from stealing from him to attacking him and trying to kill him.  Once a strong virile man, mentally and physically, now reduced to constant fear of his life.

Last week had been so promising.  We wrote a poem!  We began another. I thought I had found a way to communicate with my dad, a tool to unlock those precious memories and stories we kids so strongly crave to hear.  But today, as I used the anaphora of “I know this…,” a tool that has worked so well in writing with others, did  not work well with him. He was shut pretty tight.  He started with a trite saying, “You get what you pay for,” and as I encouraged him, he continued with strings of sayings.

From past experience, I have learned that it’s okay to start like this; because as the conversation continues, the locks come off, and we can access a distance memory or two. These experiences are delightful to watch as he climbs into his little boy character and he is wild and free, even if only for a little while..  But today, as I said, the locks were on tight.  He didn’t go on an adventure, and he was done before we barely got started.

When dad’s head get’s what he calls “fuzzy,” (full of snot and a lot of fear of releasing emotion), he has to go with a promise to call back….and the call never comes.

But this time, when our call was done, and I read back my notes, I realized some gems. These sayings of my dad can be used throughout my book where I want to make sure the character is coming through. And I also realized something else.  WE were talking about HIM, not the weather, not fishing…HIM…and for my dad, less than a year ago, these things would not have been said. The process has been slow, and it’s hard for me to imagine how I will get the much needed information to write his story, but it’s been a story getting the story.  AND, I am on a journey WITH my dad.  And that is enough.

Things don’t always look or sound the way we would like.  There definitely deserves to be an attitude of gratitude.  And the silver lining is that there is hope for day 8…today could be the day…

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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.