August Poetry Without Me

For the past handful of years, I've participated in something called the August Poetry Postcard Fest, where poets sign up and commit to writing a poem a day for 31 days on a postcard. Each participant is given a list of 31 names/addresses to send one of the poems to. In return, each participant receives 31 poetry post cards, from all over the US and beyond.

I have - and treasure - all the postcards I've ever received over the years and look forward to it each summer.

But I'm not participating this summer.

While I love the discipline and practice of daily writing, and poetry is my first writing love, this year I wasn't certain I could make and keep the commitment to a month of poetry.

However, I do want to participate on some small level, so if you would like a poem on a postcard from me, please let me know. You can send me your snail mail address via my email (lisa at ljcohen dot net) and you have my assurance that I will ONLY use that address to send you a poem.

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August Postcard Poetry Fest, 2014 edition part 1

For several years now, I've participated in a lovely end-of-summer ritual in which each day participants write small (first draft) poems on postcards and send them to 31other poets.

While I am a few days behind, I will get all 31 (+ some extras I promised!) out to all their destinations. The organizer, Paul Nelson, asks that we don't post our poems until a month after sending them. Since I sent my first batch a bit early, I feel justified in posting the first 4 now. :)

I love the discipline of this kind of meditative writing. If I get to it first thing in the morning, it feels like I am still in a kind of dream state, where the poems emerge from that strange place when the mind is neither awake nor still asleep. 

Enjoy!

Typically, I create my own postcards, but this one spoke to me.

The year I wore a bison skin,
I tucked my head before the wind
and struggled to keep walking.
I didn't realize until Spring
had come, that I broke
the path so you could follow.

They take little effort to appreciate --
these fireworks of flowers. Perfect
for the lazy gardener that I am,
unfairly taking credit for each
day's explosion of beauty,
as if I, myself lit the fuse. 

This photo was taken on our family holiday to the Eastern Shore of Maryland. We were out for a drive and stopped at an old cemetery. The wasps were very active and I was a little nervous getting close enough to snap this photo.

Someone lies here, buried
under the accretion
of seasons, layer upon
layer, upon layer, patient
as death, almost as pale,
the headstone now a living
monument to the sting
of forgetfulness.

This koi pond is on the grounds of the complex
where my father lives.

We sit together on a bench separated
by more than four decades. The war
you fought, history insists we won,
but even you begin to doubt
as we watch the koi circle, circle,
circle around the perimeter
of a pool they will never escape.

  

A Year in the Life

2012: A Review

I find it extremely useful to look back at the year that has just passed as a way to move forward in setting goals for the upcoming year.

I've written these year-in-review posts for as long as I've been blogging and I find a curious thing: while I almost never actually meet my yearly goals, I accomplish an enormous number of things. They're just not necessarily the items I had anticipated.

Perhaps this is not quite the problem or failure it might seem to be. Life throws curve balls. If there's one thing I have learned in the past several years, it's to be flexible in the face of the unexpected. (Now, stop laughing, I didn't say I enjoyed it, or even did it gracefully. . . )

So in that spirit, I offer this restatement of the goals I set this year for 2012:

In 2012, I intended to:  

1. Shepherd THE BETWEEN to its ideal readers

My first major goal for 2012 was to get THE BETWEEN in the hands of its readers. I spent a lot of time in the beginning months of 2012 working on obtaining reviews, doing guest blog posts and giveaways, and crafting a marketing plan that felt authentic and not sleazy. I think I accomplished that and made authentic connections with readers and potential readers.

2. Generate enough support and interest to write and release its sequel.

In terms of working on the sequel, I have a bare bones structure for when I return to that world. But I realized that raising awareness for one novel while trying to kickstart another was a way to burn out.

3. Finish the first draft of the "YAGSIP"

Goal number 3? I was all over that. I *owned* that goal. It was an excellent writing year, actually. Now if only I could find a name for the %$#!! novel.

4. Return to my poetry roots

Poetry. I filled several small notebooks with lines, stanzas, and drafts of poems. I also participated in the annual August Poetry Postcard fest, where I wrote 31 original postcard poems and sent them all over the world to 31 different poets.I also got to attend the 2012 Dodge Poetry Festival, which always fires up my soul with the sheer beauty of language.

5. Focus on my physical wellness

Well being? Well, that was a major fail. I know this has been on my list of goals for several years now and I need to do something about it. I'm healthy, but in poor physical shape. I could berate myself for laziness, but it's also that I've had to cope with some significant personal and family stressors in the past year, including the death of my mother and my father's multiple hospitalizations. 

So, what DID I accomplish in 2012?

• In addition to completing the first draft of the Ghost Story, I also started and am set to finish a Science Fiction novel (DERELICT) that I project to come in at 100,000 words. (As of last night, it's at 92K) That represents 1 1/2 novels written in 2012. 
• I revised FUTURE TENSE with feedback from both my agent and some wonderful beta readers (shout out to the lovely gals of the #SWFG and Rebecca Blain from G+)
• Approximately 100 new blogposts, the majority of them here at the Once in a Blue Muse Blog, but also as part of several blog tours, including the Merry-Go-Round Blog tour and the Black Ink White Paper group blog.
• Speaking of DERELICT, I decided to do something different with my work and serialize it as a novel in progress. I've been slowly garnering a wonderful community of interested readers and have really enjoyed the process of being accountable to them during the process.
• At Readercon last July, I had dinner with my fellow graduates of Jeffrey A. Carver's and Craig Shaw Gardner's Ultimate SF&F Workshop. Sitting around the table, it struck me that I was in company with an enormously talented pool of writers and suggested we put together an anthology. I'm thrilled to say that this project is moving forward and my co-editor and I will be meeting to review our submissions over the next few weeks with a plan to have the anthology ready in time for 2013 Readercon.
• I released a slew of new short stories to subscribers of BlueMusings, my newsletter.
• I got to meet my agent, the lovely Nephele Tempest of The Knight Agency, for the first time during a recent trip to L.A. We are working towards the same goals and in the same direction, weathering the vagaries of the publishing industry.
• I applied for, and was invited to run a panel with the estimable Tamora Pierce at 2012 ConBust, a small SF&F con run at Smith College in Northampton, MA. It was a wonderful experience, one I will treasure (especially since I got to meet and stay with the utterly wonderful Jane Yolen!!)

In 2013, I Intend to Accomplish:

• Revise/edit the ghost story (which really, really needs a title) and DERELICT
• Brainstorm with Nephele regarding what to write next/continue to align goals with the aim of publication
• Complete and publish the Ultimate SF&F Workshop Anthology
• Write 4-6 new short stories

To my reader and writer friends: May the New Year bring you joy and peace.

August Poetry Postcard Fest part the third

I just sent my 4th batch of cards out in the mail, so I'm sharing batch number 3 here. I always want to make sure the recipients get to see their poems first.

I'm really enjoying this process. I forget, between one summer and the next, how meditative it is to simply write a poem and then send it out into the world. The poems are those written in one go, first drafts inspired by a picture or memory. In a way, it is like keeping a journal through sent postcards.

So far, I've managed to make all my own postcards. I won't be able to do that from my in law's place, but I'm looking forward to finding interesting postcards from the general story nearby.

Enjoy.

Photo by N. Halin	The Boys Get to Ride in their Father's Race Car They don't scream like girls on a roller coaster--like their mother would, not horror movie shriek but unconstrained, the primal push of birth. It makes the men uncomfortable until they retreat to the predictable terror of their fast machines.
Photo by E. Halin	The dogs welcome us back to the pack. We answer frantic whimpers and yips with reassurance, scratch behind ears and along rumps, promise to unpack bags. They remain skeptical, shed into our open suitcases, determined never to be abandoned again.
	Fontainebleau Hotel, 1969 I barely remember them like this, my mother in her Jackie O phase, elegant mini and white pumps, unruly hair pulled into a tamed chignon. My dad cool in the summer sun, camel hair jacket, wide tie, barrel chested confidence. I do remember finding pennies on the boardwalk and the ice cream sodas.
	Schrodinger's Boxes After a full year, four sealed boxes remain. I'd like to lie and say I enjoy the mystery, how full of possibilities. Anything could be in those cartons as long as I don't open them.

August Poetry Postcard: group 2

So far, I've managed to keep on track with my postcards, getting the ones out to the participating poets through the postcard fest and some additional postcards to folks who wanted them through my mailing list.

(It's not too late--if you want an original postcard poem written in my horrible handwriting, sent to you, just sign up and follow the directions in the August edition of BlueMusings!)

"Blueberries picking near Bremen" photo by realworldphotos.net, cc license, used with attribution. http://www.flickr.com/photos/realworldphotosnet/6008086522	Mist and clouds cool the field. Still the boys complain when their buckets fill too slowly. Even the promise of pie and jam not enough. They bicker like the birds I steal ripe berries from. I eat handfuls and my container still overflows.
"Passport" photo by Tiffini, cc license, used with attribution, http://www.flickr.com/photos/tiffini/4129317099/	Packing the Passports In the scramble to leave, I find my old passport. Hair darker, glasses rounder, face unlined. Shall I tell her of the places she must travel? There are borders into dark and painful lands where she will learn all maps lie and half-familiar landmarks are more dangerous than any undiscovered country.
"Over the Fence" photo by it'sgreg, cc license, used with attribution http://www.flickr.com/photos/itsgreg/3798197869/	Our neighbor's oak looms over the fence between  two yards. Where once  we planted gardens,  we harvest only shadows.
"Center, Open, Lift" photo by Littlelexxus, cc license, used with attribution, http://www.flickr.com/photos/littlelexxis/4135738646/	Ceramics Class Terra cotta slip spatters rust red, the dried blood of murdered pots, sacrificed to the gods of wheelthrowing by this clumsy acolyte.

It's AUGUST and that means POETRY!

If you've followed my blog for any stretch of time, you know that in August, I participate in a postcard poetry festival, where you sign up and get a list of 31 poets and their addresses and commit to writing and sending one original poem each day.

I started a wee bit early, trying to stay ahead, as we'll be doing some traveling this month. The first batch of postcards have already gone out.

Here are some of this year's offerings.

"Sipping Away" Photo by Renato Pequito, used with attribution, CC license.

After thirty years he still leaves me coffee in the pot, the last piece of pie, hungry for our next kiss.

"Squirrel Under Bird Feeder" photo by Jimmy Smith, used with attribution, CC license

Birds attack the feeder. A frenzy of wings for a beakfull of seed. An inefficient exchange. The squirrel sits beneath, bushy-tailed Buddha, waiting.

Netted Blueberry Bush, photo by Jeanne-Erin, used with attribution, CC license

Yesterday, I netted the bushes. Today, the birds fix me with their beady eyes planning their next move. Seasonal warfare neither of us can win. In the end frost claims the garden as his prize, the tart crush of blueberries on my tongue a temporary victory.

Origami Crow, photo by Ben Watkin, used with attribution, CC license

When the Crow lands on the feeder chickadees and nuthatches scatter in a panic of wings. Possession is a worthless prize, his weight slams the feeder door shut and all his frantic scrabbling cannot nourish him.

More August Postcard Poems

I finally got the last of my cards to the post office.  (Sorry to the unlucky poets who were on the bottom of my list when I got behind.)

The pile of postcards I received from all over the US and Canada are siting on the shelf over my desk, a reminder of the power of words, of the poetry community, and the joy of everyday writing.

(click on any front/back to enlarge)


I'll be posting these a group at a time, until I've gotten them all here.

Enjoy!

It's August--Time for the Postcard Poetry Fest

For several years now, I've participated in the August Postcard Poetry Fest wherein poets get a list of 31 names/addresses and write an original postcard poem for each person on the list.  In return, the poet receives 31 original postcard poems from 31 writers all over the world.

I still have all the postcards I've ever received.

This year, I have started a series called "Homecoming," using images from photos of our fire and reconstruction process.  I'm not sure I'll be able to sustain this for the entire month, but I'm hoping to have a solid collection of related poems by the end.

For your enjoyment, the first several postcards that have gone out into the world:

Photo by Qubitso,licensed via CC. http://www.flickr.com/photos/29494283@N04/4088926648/sizes/m/in/photostream/

2010 Writing Roundup

Because I'm sure you're tired of posts related to our housefire. . . because I know I am. . . because the end of the year is a time to take stock. . . and because it helps me see where I am in my writing life:

The Writing Roundup, 2010 Edition

Novels:

Edited "The Between"

Edited "Future Tense"

Began "Sisters of Lilith" fantasy/erotica

Began unnamed YA dystopian scifi project

Short Stories:

Written and/or substantially revised: 3 

Poetry:

New poems written: 41

Freewriting and journalling:  filled 2 notebooks with drafts to revisit in 2011 

Took part in the August Poetry Postcard Fest

Attended Dodge '10!

Took part in Robert Lee Brewer's November Poem a Day challenge

Blog Posts:

137 posts here on Once in a Blue Muse

1 guest post on Writer Unboxed

Op Ed pieces for our local newspaper: 4

In the margins of my writing, I also helped my parents move into a life care community, had an emergency appendectomy, celebrated the 5th anniversary of this blog, my husband's 50th birthday, our 22nd wedding anniversary, attended Readercon, had my car drive itself out of the driveway and into the creek, and survived a serious house fire. 

My goals for 2010 were:
  1.  Be ready with a marketing plan for when my first novel sells.  While the sale hasn't happened yet, I remain upbeat and hopeful and have a ton of ideas for when the time comes. Part of being a successful author is building connections with audience, 'platform' for want of a better word.  Writing a regular column for our local paper, besides being something I enjoy, also helps contribute to my platform.

  2. Appropriately use social networking tools to build connections with writers and readers, while not getting sucked into a black hole of time wasting on the net.  I kept pace with the blog, enjoyed my new connections through Twitter.  I'm still not as organized as I'd like to be about limited my net time, but that's a work in progress.

  3. Return to my 'roots' of writing poetry.  I returned to poetry with a vengeance, reading craft books such as "Wabi Sabi for Writers," "Writing down the bones," and "Writing the Life Poetic." (hi Sage!) I returned to my practice of daily pages, writing in small notebooks that I could carry around with me.  I filled several of them.

My goals for 2011:
1. Walk daily. Now that we're living in an apartment while our home is being repaired, I have the perfect excuse/need to walk daily.  Our dog.  I had been getting lazy, just putting her out in our fenced yard rather than taking her on walks.  Not good for either of us.

2. Plan out a sequel/series. All the novels I have written thus far have been independent of one another.  Several of them have sequels that I would love to write.  There is a difference between writing a standalone story and writing a series.  I need to explore what makes a good series.

3. Write one short story my critique group gives its blessing to.  I feel like there is a secret code to writing a complete and satisfying short story and I haven't broken it yet.  2011 is the year.

Well, there you have it.  I am happy to see 2010 in my rear view mirror.

Happy creating, to all my musician, artist, and writer friends.

August Poetry Postcard Poems: 8/10 - 12

These daily postcard poems have been an interesting experience for me.  The spirit of the poems is in the moment.  These are meant to be written fresh, each day, inspired by something in the immediate environment or on the postcard picture and written/sent without a typical poetry revision process.  So they are significantly more 'raw' that work I generally share.

Some of the pieces are poems I will continue to develop after the poetry postcards are completed.  Others will likely remain only as brief meditations/snapshots of a moment in time and not returned to.  This does not lessen their value to me in any way.  So much of what I write is part of the process of writing.  Like a musician's practice scales, meant to enhance skill and push learning; useful for its own sake.  Even in the absence of a project such as this, I often write morning pages.  The daily free writes help me limber my 'writing muscles' and help me get into the flow for my work.


Early Morning, Chesapeake Bay

Boats steam by in a stuttering
parade, sails furled against
August duldrums.  High tide
laps at the bulkhead, dainty
as a mother cat.  Nine years
ago, Isabel roared through
this sleepy place, swallowing
sand and rip rap, house and car
in one enormous gulp.  Each Spring
Osprey rebuild their nests
on higher ground.

Dragonflies skim the water's skin,

wings shedding sunlight

as they fly.  The drone

of bees lulls afternoon

blooms to sleep.  The dog

drowses in a shady spot,

paws twitching, dreaming

of the endless chase.

When she wakes

it is August, still.

Irony in the Garden

City mouse chases

squirrels from the tomato plants,

dead heads basil flowers,

counts the purple nubs

of infant eggplants, all

before her morning coffee. 

More August Poetry Postcard Poems

August 7

Outside the Chocolate Shop

The girl at the door refuses
to meet our eyes. Her head
barely jerks side to side
as she jingles the keys. We press
desperate faces against the glass,
dreaming of abundance. We are
street urchins, homeless waifs
hungry to spend the change
rattling in our pockets.


August 8

Color Envy

Black eyed Susans squint
into an unblinking sky. Yellow
smears into green. New realities
blur across blank canvas.
A butterfly wing brushes the still
wet petal of a purple Coneflower.

This one was inspired by my m-i-l's lovely watercolor painting. She was painting this one while I was writing my morning pages and this poem emerged.

August 9

A blur of dark feathers,
talons cut the surface
of the bay. Water streams
from wide wings. A fish
flaps, scales flash
disco ball silver
against August blue.

Home sweet home, catching up, and Readability

We're home again after a glorious week on Maryland's eastern shore, where my in-laws have their home on the Chesapeake Bay.  It's one of my favorite places in the world--a place where you can sit and watch the water for endless hours, listen to its whisper and crash, watch dragonflies strafe late summer flowers.

In the past, I've used our annual pilgrimage to "Silly Manor" (as my in-laws home is called by the family)  to do a significant amount of writing.  This year, I did very little, other than some morning pages which turned into postcard poems. 

On the way home, I was wondering why that was.  What I realized is that *this* year, our vacation was the first time I've been down there since I started to write full time.  In the past, our holiday time was also time to immerse myself in writing as a change from my normal day job.  Since writing became my day job, I looked at vacation as a time to relax and refill the creative well.

Now that we're back home, I need to ramp up my writing time again:  it's get back to work time.

The other thing I had to catch up on was my rss reader and all the wealth of blog posts waiting for me.  And that reminds me of a tool I've talked about before:  readability.

When you spend hours trying to read online, it can be wearing on the eye.  Readability is a little add on that lives on a browser that can change the presentation of web based text to a more readable format, quickly, and on the fly.

August Poetry Postcard Fest: Days 4-6

Sorry, but I'm behind in posting these.  Being away from home and without access to a scanner or easy transfer of digital cameras means I can't capture the actual postcards.  But here are a few of my postcard poems for your enjoyment.




August 4, 2010


This is the way I remember you,
juggling apples while I tried
not to laugh.  Everyone at the market
stared, my cheeks, apple round,
apple flushed.  I was never
as sweet as you imagined
but you insisted tart apples
were always your favorite.

August 5, 2010

Mont-Tremblant, Cafe

Early morning birdsong,
rise and fall of rapidfire
notes.  I am tune deaf,
rhythm blind, my instinct
to home almost as strong
as this need to linger
over one more cafe au lait.

August 6, 2010

I could tell you fog slithered

along the asphalt and you might

think of snakes.  If I mentioned

tendrils, maybe you'd imagine a road

kill Medusa, spread eagled across

the median, hair shifting, coiling

in a light breeze.  I could say

the deer ghosted out of those trees,

its hooves vanishing into mist and still

you would not understand

how my heart hurdled the distance

between accelerator and brake.

August Postcard Poetry Fest, day 3

There is something freeing and daring about writing in the moment. There is no time for the inner editor/critic to berate you for your vision or choice of words. Part of why I love the postcard fest is that I never know what will emerge from one of the photos I choose for the day's card. Sometimes it's just the spontaneity of a postcard I bought at the drug store. It's almost always a window into my subconscious.

Of course, the other reason to love this undertaking is the gift of 31 poems and postcards from 31 poets. I find myself running to check the mailbox several times a day, like I used to when I was a kid and I had a penpal.

This is a poem written for my favorite photograph, of all the photos my husband took on our trip last summer to Kyrgyzstan. There is something in the comfort and peacefulness of these two people that appeals to me.

Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, 2009  photo by N. Halin

 

The way silence keeps it council
for us, the way it lengthens
like late shadow.  The way
sunlight touches us together.
The way cobblestones heave
then settle into a new language
as we walk. The way our footfalls
find their perfect synchrony.

August Postcard Poetry Fest, days 1 and 2

It's August.  And that means several things here.  First, it means local tomatoes, something especially to celebrate since last year we lost all our tomatoes to late blight.  Second it means our family holiday and some much needed down time for all of us together.  Third, and to the point of this blogpost, it means it's Postcard Poetry Fest time. 

I participated in this for the first time 2 summers ago, and will be writing a poem a day to be sent to one of 31 participating poets.  As I did two years ago, I will have a combination of traditional postcards and ones I've made using photographs my husband has taken. When I can, I will post the actual postcards, front and back, though that will be harder when we are on the road.

Here are my first two:

Raspberry/Preserve

In each spoon, sun and rain.

The subtle prick of thorn, rustle

of dried cane. The roil of red

foam in an enameled pot, clink

of pint jars, lids and bands 

seal out ripe decay, keep

the killing frost at bay.

Wedding party, Osh, Kyrgyzstan, 2009 photo by N. Halin

Not My Grandmother

She reminds me of her, the old
country on her tongue until the end,
the taste of tea slurped from a spoonful
of jam.  She doesn't speak Yiddish,
never emigrated from Poland or Russia.

She is not my grandmother
but I danced with her at the wedding.
I was six again, all my great
aunts and uncles spoiled me, slipping
stories like candy from deep pockets.

August Poetry Postcard Fest, final (Aug 28-31)

I really enjoyed participating in this project. During the rest of the year, my mailbox fills up with junk mail, magazines I don't really want or have time to read, and bills. This August, I couldn't wait to get the mail, to see what treasure I would receive from a far flung poet.

Both the writing and the receiving of these little poems made the end of summer something to celebrate.



August 28, 2008

A Gardener's Koan

The final lap
around summer's track.
Will the tomatoes ripen
before first frost?



August 29, 2008

Marigolds laze in the sun,
gossip with neighborhood bees.
Winds churn somewhere else
granting us a temporary peace.



August 30, 2008

The Watering Hole

Bees take their turn, sipping nectar.
On the pickets, a line of gossiping
sparrows. Monarchs dart in and out
of blossoms. Blooms dry, drop
to the ground. I swallow,
dust heavy on my tongue.


August 31, 2008

The lightest brush of wings
against paper. Words
have no weight on the page,
only in the ear that hears.
My voice is the rustle
of breeze through reeds.
Will you not listen?

August Poetry Postcards (Aug 24-27)

True confessions: While I wrote original poems for each day of the month, I did resort to using the same postcard images more than once.

August 24, 2008

Post No Bills, II

There is only one
yard sale. It travels,
enchanted like Santa's sleigh,
from house to house, the same
little-tykes-hot-wheels-coffee-
maker-books-five-cents-fill-
a-bag-one-dollar. Rare
treasures of suburban
archeology. No early
birds, please.


August 25, 2008

Scrap Wood, Seattle Alley

Sparrows sun on the fence post.
Monarchs paint the lavender
of a butterfly bush with yellow
and orange wing strokes.
After weeks of rain, mushrooms
finally dry to sawdust
amid a pile of scrap wood.



August 26, 2008

Statue, Boston Common

Bats have squeezed through
chinks in the brick inches wide.
If I had a gargoyle,
he would warn them away
before my high pitched screams
confused sonar, sent them careening
into walls and ceiling, lurching
back into comforting night.


August 27, 2007

Everglades Bug, II

Cicadas slow their song.
If I shut my eyes
to the sharp angle
of this late sun, refuse
to accept the green
leaching from maple
and oak, still I would
know winter comes.