Poetry Challenge: Poem #5 of 5

This is it! The last poem I'm posting for the Poetry Challenge Katie tagged me in. And I have saved what I consider to be one of my best poems for last. But before I share it, allow me to tell you a little bit about its journey.

A summer or two ago when I was in a major writing slump, I was looking for a muse of sorts... something to inspire me beyond what I normally write. At the time, one of my best friends since college, Ileana Garcia-Spitz had traveled to Panama over that summer. I should also tell you now that Ileana is an extremely gifted and talented photographer. SO ... not only did she come back with gorgeous photographs of the area and its people, she also had a showing of those photographs soon after she got back home. This is where I fell in love with the photo that would inspire me. I had no choice but to ask her permission to write a poem about the picture.

The next thing I did was arrange a meeting with Ileana so that I could get enough information from her about the picture that would give me some general ideas, but not so much it would not allow me to create my own story about the picture. But a perfectionist gets in the way of herself, and the pressure was on (only in my head, of course). But still true to some degree because I was not writing a poem about some picture I found online, taken by a photographer I'd never heard of. No! I was writing a poem for one of of my best friends about a photograph she took that spoke to me. And it was my job to do attempt to do as much justice to the photograph as I possibly could.

Seeing as how the photo was taken in Panama. I needed to put my old reporter's hat on and dig for information about Panama and the area that would give me the detail I needed to make it as genuine a poem as I could. In digging, I found a photo of an white orchid called the Flower of the Holy Spirit (the national flower of Panama). What makes it so unique is the way the orchid seems to have a dove in the center of its flower. This was my basis for the poem. Below the image is the poem. I hope you enjoy it.

Source: http://panamatourismtravel.blogspot.com/2012/06/flower-of-holy-spirit.html

Wild Seeds

Flower of the Holy Spirit

peeks beyond Grocer’s window,

observes life from where the wind

blew its tiny seed, separated

from the tree-born terrain it calls home

Two women now stand where the sun

falls, the white dove in the Orchid’s

center turns to recognize shadows

cast, entranced by their stature,

powerful stares that seep deep into her

Spirit and are forever carried with her

                                                                                                       

The Orchid does not know of generational

differences or what brings the women

to shadow its path; yet unaware, the shadow

gives the Orchid its indirect light to thrive

Like the wild seed that grew alongside

Grocer’s window, the women live

unaware of their strength. In defiance

of one another, they stand together,

transplanted from their native land,

because they never knew they weren't

supposed to survive there in the first place

Poetry Challenge: Poem #4 of 5

Well, today was a girlie kind of day as I got to spend the afternoon with Katie Hoerth! YAY! We talked about poetry, chapbooks, first manuscripts  ... and then we went shopping! :D

But when I was contemplating this post and thinking about which poem to include, it was almost a natural choice to choose the one titled "More Than I Imagined." It;s a poem that I wrote fairly quickly at Starbucks one afternoon and a special place in my heart for. It talks about coming full-circle having the woman I am now address the child I was, telling her it is okay to be awkward, with a stutter and that her self-confidence will soar once she finally finds her niche. 

Did I give too much away?? Oh well ... hope you enjoy!

More Than I Imagined

Where do you go when I seek you? In the depths

of myself I can’t find you. You’ve shown yourself before,

but have faded into blankness of a turned

page in retreat from fear of success and what is

seen for you - A blankness the world sees through unfinished

canvases, unworked poems and attempts for the greatness

you think you deserve, seeking what is known you can

do. But your attempts get in your way, for it is what you finish

that makes your eyes smile in fulfillment and accomplishment.

And it is that accomplishment which is greatness.

But you don’t see it. You never truly could for the belittling and will-never-

be-able-to’s that eked away your childhood. But now who I see in me is

not the same hindered child afraid to speak beyond her scared,

trembled whisper. So now I ask you to tell me where you are

now that I seek you again. In the depths of myself I know you’re

there. Show me how to find you so I can tell you I love you and you’re

more than I ever imagined.

How I started writing

Before I started writing poetry, I wrote short prose and the beginner essay pieces and would keep them in a large journal that I got on sale at Waldenbooks in our mall. I even remember when I got it: a day that I ran into my best friend and unknown-to-him crush at said bookstore. Since then, (at the time) what I mostly wrote were the requisite young unrequited love pieces that young girls write but keep hidden away in a diary. I think I only showed them to best friend since fifth grade, Heidi.

Well one day when I was older and in college I was a member of a literary organization at school. Our group president was what I would have called a poet. I decided to try my hand at the form, having never had any real practice at it. And I wrote the longest poem (albeit the only poem) I had ever written. I guess what I was really writing was an essay (because that's all I knew how to write) poem. :P So I showed my new attempt to our group president who in no uncertain words told me to keep writing what I knew ... essays and prose. And instead of a valuable critique, I was criticized. So, I never wrote another poem again ... until years later when I found myself in an advanced creative writing classes as  a graduated journalism major because I was told I needed the hours to teach.

And having already been told by someone I looked up to that I pretty much sucked at poetry, I was afraid to even try. But I had to write. And gratefully I wound up with a very understanding professor who would later become my mentor. And since I was trying to get hat group president's voice out of my head, I started writing the shortest poems possible. But with her guidance and helping me hone the craft, I not only developed a love of poetry, but of service learning as well and started my own community writing group that is now four years strong.

Don't get me wrong. Half the time I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing as writing is hard work that at times take both sweat and tears. But now I have the confidence to try and make mistakes. Not to mention a very supportive writing and poetry community (read: family) to keep me going when I feel like giving up.

Now I find myself writing this post because I can't sleep and instead of writing in secret in a journal, I share my experiences and the difficulty in writing what is hardest at times... truth.