Division 5 has been finding all sorts of creative things to do these days. It’s so nice to see what Quilchena students are getting up to with more free time at home.
Wonderful to see the creative ways to show your imaginations.
Poets exist all around us. I guarantee that you know someone who practices their poetry writing.
My friend Amanda is a poet. She teaches grade seven at another school in Vancouver and performs her poems at events around the city. Her ability to choose a topic and to capture her thoughts, reactions, and feelings impresses me every time I hear or read her poetry.
This year for Poetry Month, while I have been writing daily posts for our Quilchena Library blog, Amanda has been sharing a new poem every day on Facebook. I asked her permission to share a few of them with you:
From day 15:
I’m cultivating my curiosity
As much as I possibly can.
I’m feeding it questions and opinions,
I’m making fertilizer of my certainties,
Reminding myself that the unknown isn’t necessarily unknowable
Dark
Or foreboding.
It could be limitless,
Possibilities.
Cultivating this curiosity gives me labour to do
In this untethered time.
I yearn for the sweat of doing.
When I start spinning
I remind, rebody myself
So that I sit in curiosity
Then dig deep into the rich, rich, earthy soil
Of that garden.
From day 22:
My thoughts as they zing around bumping into each other in most unexpected ways, forging unlikely bonds.
My feelings as they tangle, roll into each other, change colour and texture.
My body as it desires, unwilling to follow the rules I have set out as it pulls me through the world.
My desires as they lead me into unknowns and all too familiars, asking me for blind allegiance.
My intellect, my warrior heart dragging my battered self into the arena again and again.
My softenesses becoming softer.
My hunger rampant.
My joy explosive.
Unruly.
From day 24:
Tell me the story that matters.
Take my hand, lead me through
The marshes of what scares you.
Allow me to wander there, with you.
I can just be there,
I can move my way through, gently.
Lean your tired head on my heart;
It is strong, practiced.
Let the rhythm root you in some kind of peace.
Write your love letters onto my skin,
Draw out the meanings
Let the words ramble their ways across my body
To take up residence where there is resonance.
Share the edges,
Expose the dangers of your unknowing,
Lead me into your murkiness.
I am safe and strong.
I hope that you try writing your own poetry sometime, if you don’t already. Grab an old notebook, or get yourself a fancy new one, (it doesn’t matter what it looks like, as long as you fill it with your writing) and start trying out ideas. Don’t through anything away; just keep stretching, adding, building. Have fun!
There is an IMMENSE tradition, all over the world, of writing poetry in celebration of the natural world. On Earth Day, we can share poetry that focuses on the relationship and interdependence between us and the earth.
Remember the sky that you were born under,
know each of the star’s stories.
Remember the moon, know who she is.
Remember the sun’s birth at dawn, that is the
strongest point of time. Remember sundown
and the giving away to night.
Remember your birth, how your mother struggled
to give you form and breath. You are evidence of
her life, and her mother’s, and hers.
Remember your father. He is your life, also.
Remember the earth whose skin you are:
red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth
brown earth, we are earth.
Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their
tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,
listen to them. They are alive poems.
Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the
origin of this universe.
Remember you are all people and all people
are you.
Remember you are this universe and this universe
is you.
Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you.
Remember language comes from this.
Remember the dance language is, that life is.
Remember.
by Joy Harjo
Are you going out for walks in your neighbourhood? Do you add anything to your walks to make them interesting? Next time, try being a Twinkletoes…
When the sun
Shines through the leaves of the apple-tree,
When the sun
Makes shadows of the leaves of the apple-tree,
Then I pass
On the grass
From one leaf to another,
From one leaf to its brother
Tip-toe, tip-toe!
Here I go!
by A. A. Milne