Writing Exercise for All You Creative Types August 4, 2009

OK, writers. Here’s a stimulating exercise for you.

The next time you go on a trip, write down interesting street names and community names that you discover. Take those names and create a story or poem using them.

Below are street names I found on a recent trip. Feel free to plunder them. I think they would be good used in a child’s poem or story.

· Goose Market
· Fairystone
· Rock Castle
· Indigo Mountain
· Lemon Tree
· Cloud Break
· Goblintown
· Ironbelt

(Tolkien would have liked the proximity of those last two to each other. Very fitting.)

Ready. Set. Write!!!

Blacksnake July 10, 2009

“Blacksnake.” Jimson Weed, vol. XXIV, new series vol. 8, no. 2 (Fall 2005).

Blacksnake

Coiled in my path like an ampersand.

My heart beats an ellipsis . . .
Punctuates the sentence of my original sin.

Serpent conjunction links me to my base nature.

What was beautiful about you before you came between
Adam & Eve?

Cinquains June 17, 2009

Cinquains are five-line poems popularized by Adelaide Crapsey. She did not invent the five-line poem, but instead re-invented it based on the simplicity of the haiku. One of the most common Crapsey cinquains follows this pattern: the first line has 1 word, the second 3, the third 5, the fourth 4, and the fifth 2.

Because it is so restrictive — limiting the poet to few words — the cinquain can be challenging. While the form is not a favorite in American poetry, it is lovely when mastered.

I wrote this cinquain a few years ago. It utilizes the word pattern 1, 3, 5, 4, 2 and the syllable pattern 2, 4, 6, 8, 2.

“Sumac.” Clinch Mountain Review (2006). Author: Neva Bryan. Editor: Warren Harris.

SUMAC

Sumac,
Fuzzy head bent,
Reminds me where I am:
Appalachia, backbone worn down
With grief.

Accents Radio Show – a reading of my poem “Anoint Me” May 17, 2009

Listen to the recording of Frank X. Walker’s interview on Accents http://www.katerinaklemer.com/audio/accents_051509.mp3. Also listen for my poem, Anoint Me, to be read. It starts at about 1 min 26 seconds into the recording. This is WRFL Lexington.

Neva’s Poem to be read on WRFL-FM Lexington May 15 May 11, 2009

Listen to Accents every Friday @ 2pm EST on WRFL 88.1 FM Lexington or stream live from wrfl.fm.

This Friday, May 15, they’ll be reading a poem of mine, “Anoint Me.”

Also, the guest that day will be poet Frank X. Walker.

Katerina Stoykova-Klemer is the host.

Let me know what you think!

Dirty Secret May 19, 2008

DIRTY SECRET

 

 

On July days, we played noon till night.

Stayed in the woods.

Climbed the hill behind Granny’s house.

Dug up treasures in the briar patch:

Decapitated dolls, deflated basketballs, rusty cans.

 

One day we missed Sam.

Thought he might be caught in the patch –

A bad match for Brer Rabbit –

But the thicket offered only barbed promises.

 

We finally found him behind the barn,

Shorts and shoes abandoned in the grass,

Naked,

Up to his neck in a mud hole.

 

Sweet dirt filled every pore,

Soothed his sore feet,

Cooled his hot skin.

 

Dismayed at his sin displayed,

He leaped from his bath

And ran home, clay caked

In every nook and cranny.

 

Granny never blinked an eye.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Dirty Secret.” Poetry.  2006 Explorations, MECC, Honorable Mention.

Housecleaning May 14, 2008

HOUSECLEANING

 

 

I set my mop bucket

beneath the downspout

so grit that sits at

bucket’s bottom

returns to earth

around my house.

 

Carried in on work boots and bare feet:

pine needles, walnut leaves, grass,

gravel, mulch, and mud.

Pulled from outside in.

 

I wipe away the grime of life:

disappointment, anger, grief, and fear.

Pushed from inside out.

 

Now the stringy-headed mop

propped on the porch

surveys my mess,

while I polish my joy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Housecleaning.”  Jimson Weed, vol. XXV, new series vol. 9, no. 2 (Fall 2006).

Old Logging Road May 6, 2008

OLD LOGGING ROAD

 

 

Leaving behind lawyers and you,

I go home.

 

An old logging road sidles

around the mountain

behind our desolate house.

I trudge through mud to the top

and eye the rapescape

of amputated limbs,

knotty torsos,

exposed hearts — ringed to count the years.

 

Here scars are deep gashes

in abandoned land.

Poison ivy and wild vines

fill empty spaces.

 

Stumbling, I reach out to steady myself

and clutch a blackberry switch.

Thorns pierce my palm,

draw red beads to the surface.

 

Cursing,

I rub blood across my barren belly

and weep for this wasteland.

 

 

 

 

 

“Old Logging Road.” Bluestone Review (Spring 2008).

Blacksnake May 6, 2008

Blacksnake

 

 

Coiled in my path like an ampersand.

 

My heart beats an ellipsis . . .

Punctuates the sentence of my original sin.

Serpent conjunction links me to my base nature.

 

What was beautiful about you before you came between

Adam & Eve?

 

 

 

“Blacksnake.” Jimson Weed, vol. XXIV, new series vol. 8, no. 2 (Fall 2005).

Seven Year Itch May 1, 2008

This poem is a little sad for me now, and a bit ironic. I divorced him the next year.

 

SEVEN YEAR ITCH

 

 

Husband, I’ve worn you for so long

you’re a little ragged around the edges,

but soft and comfortable as a T-shirt.

So Carolina’s a surprise.

 

You walk on the shore while I sleep.

Steeped in salty mist, skin cold,

you hold me when you return, but

I don’t know this grey-eyed selchie

who’s slipped between my sheets.

Sleek, hair slicked against your skull,

you seduce me, reduce me to blood and muscle.

You take my affection in a new direction.

 

I think I understand now why

seven represents perfection.

 

“Seven Year Itch.” Jimson Weed, vol. XXV, new series vol. 9, no. 2 (Fall 2006).