How to Write 5 New Poems in 4 hours or Less

plus laugh a whole lot, gab, kevetch, present an impromptu Twitter tutorial, scarf down a tuna melt, and watch a pile of chocolate Dove hearts vanish before your very eyes. What was I up to?

I arrived in Edmonds a little before 10 am and landed a 3-hour parking spot in front of the local Starbucks. As I gathered my wares and headed in, two ladies out front complimented my parallel parking prowess. I took it as a good omen.

Stellar poet Kelli Russell Agodon waltzed in at 10:03 am to join me at my quaint window table. Ready, set, write! We warmed up with an ekphrasis using an oil painting from the Museum of Modern Art (courtesy their website, with a catalog of its entire collection), then got into some serious Write a Poem from a Paraphrase of an Un-known Poem-ing. We were afoot!

After an anagram-inspired poem, we delved into an exercise created by Naomi Shahib Nye that asked for questions, for images, for what we'd done in the last 36 hours. I listed baked chocolate chips cookies, made split pea soup, took my son to his swim lesson. (I didn't end up using any of the things I'd done, but I got a decent draft from the questions answered by the images).

In between exercises we sipped, munched, swapped mommy tales, and hoped Kelli's sweet golden retriever was only temporarily lethargic (he couldn't lift his head up when Kelli left to meet me, so her husband had taken him to the vet).

We packed up at 2:45 pm, five new poems in each of our satchels--enough revising to keep us busy till our next meeting (hopefully in March). As we were saying our goodbyes, Kelli's husband called to say the vet figured out the problem with Buddy--a pinched nerve. What a relief.

And off I sailed onto I-5 and into the southbound traffic.

If you are trying to figure out a way to get poems written without having to spend money for a class/workshop, I highly recommend this method. Enlist a friend, set a time to show up at a coffee shop--a place where you can be fairly certain neither of you will run into anyone you know. Bring along a book of exercises prompts--The Working Poet is a great one; so is Kim Addonizio's Ordinary Genius. Bring your favorite writing utensil and some paper, a timer, a little baggie of yummy treats, and your to-go mug. You can each pick 2-3 exercises in advance, or you can pick them randomly from either of these books. When the timer goes off, share aloud what you've each written. Whatever you do, don't offer criticism to your poetry pal, although saying "that part where you go from being a hawk to being a chipmunk was really cool" is perfectly fine. But since no one regularly writes a kick-ass poem in 10-15 minutes, and since the goal is quantity, save your analysis . . . and get onto the next prompt.

Happy poem-ing!

Ekphrasis Poetry Workshop

I'm gearing up to teach a writing workshop on ekphrasis poetry on Bainbridge Island (Kiana Lodge) this April 17, as part of the Field's End Writers' Conference. You can register at Field's End. Bruce Barcott will be the keynote speaker, and Sheila Bender will lead a workshop on "Writing Through Grief." Also, Novelist Anjali Banerjee will present a session on "Knowing When to Stop Revising." Other workshops will include “A Dozen Steps to Find a Literary Agent or Publisher,” led by Alice B. Acheson, and “Capturing an Oral History,” presented by Kit Bakke. Besides my illustrious poetry workshop, you can choose from “The Prose Poem” with Oliver de la Paz and “Eating Poetry,” led by Nancy Pagh.

The admission price includes breakfast, lunch, and a wine-and-cheese book-signing reception.

Hope to see you there!

Joannie Kervran Stangeland

Joannie Kervran Stangeland is entering the second half of her life, and I am excited to be among those who welcome her across the threshold! We will be gathering Monday, Feb 1 at the Columbia City Cinema to eat chocolate cake, share some poems, and raise our glasses to a woman of many gifts and talents, including being an exceptional friend and poet.

Here's a favorite poem of mine, from her chapbook Weathered Steps.

Happy birthday, Joannie. 

Such Whimsy!

A mid-week visit to the Seattle Art Museum has kept me giddy and upbeat/positive all week. I loved watching the old video footage of Calder happily conducting his wire-hanger miniature animal and people circus. Priceless. I also got a chance to examine one of Michelangelo's illustrated grocery lists:

"two rolls, a pitcher of wine, a herring; tortelli . . ."

Why, of course.

I took notes for what I hope will eventually be a couple ekphrasis (poems about art).

Buoyed all week by visual art and the spring-like weather.

And today a book I've been wanting to own since last August arrived in the mail: John Hollander's A Gazer's Spirit: Poems Speaking to Silent Works of Art. (It is out of print, very expensive, and very hard to find, but I finally tracked down a copy I could afford!) This is the book if you want to understand and write ekphrasis poetry. It's illustrated and contains a great many ekphrasis poems written over the last 500 years. I probably won't have time to read it till late March (between quarters), but I can skim it now, at least.

I picked up a pile of reserve books from the library, too -- can't wait to dip into Bernadette Mayer's Poetry State Forest! And I have out two books by Rae Armantrout, whom I feel drawn toward despite my inability to make any sense of most of her poems, though I appreciate their intelligence, unique voice, and beauty. I hope, with continued reading, a clearer path into her work will emerge.

So that's been my week . . . that and a lot of thinking/listening about Haiti.

And I Thought I Was a Slob

Alexander Calder's desk. (Take that, neat freaks!)

Hing Loon

We have a favorite noodle place in our town. It's in the heart of Chinatown. Here in Seattle we refer to it as "The International District" because, hey, we're a very open-minded, inclusive, and precise bunch, but let's get down to brass Buddhas: on the corner of Maynard and Weller there's a little place called Hing Loon, and it's in Chinatown!

Why we love Hing Loon:

1. Do you see these pictures? Can you imagine getting away with this kind of high jinx at Chinoise!!? The Hing Loon ladies let our kids (1) squeal, (2) spar, (3) whine, (4) spill stuff, (5) fight over who gets to sit next to mama, and (6) slurp very audibly.

2. When I walk in, I'm not in my world anymore; I am in China, or, having never been to China, something akin to the little family street restaurants I hung out in when I visited Thailand in the early 1990s. Chinese characters cover the walls. Buddha and his altar stand ready to welcome us in from the cold. And Ms. Hoola Dancer hoolas away next to the register, her tan bum sticking out of her little grass skirt. Soup's on!

3. Once you taste said soup (I would suggest the rice noodles with dumpling) you will cease to require further explanation.

4. We laugh, we splurp, we tell the owner that her restaurant is the standard by which all Chinese restaurants are held ("This isn't anything like Hing Loon!" my son will loudly protest without hesitation at a sub-par noodle joint).

5. We sup until we are too full to move, and the check arrives. Dinner for 4 is under $20. Hing Looooooooooooon!

Why Can't I Ever Resist the Urge to Make New Year's Resolutuions?

Like I will write a poem a day for the entire year.

Like a poem a day and at least 20 minutes of exercise.

Like a poem a day, a three-mile run, and visiting an art museum once a week with notebook in hand for ekphrasis drafting.

While I am doing all this, I will also be

(a) eating local even more than last year;

(b) reading for pleasure (a lovely novel by Marilyn Robinson or Lorrie Moore) instead of checking Facebook and email;

(c) taking better care of my hair, skin, and nails;

(d) spending more downtime with my children;

(e) writing poem ideas down instead of thinking I'll remember them in the morning (Thanks, Diane Lockward, for your reminder on Blogalicious this week);

(f) eating more legumes and high-calcium greens (collard and mustard greens);

(g) spending more time with my friends;

(h) blogging a little bit more often (and making sure to be, always, always, Educational, Entertaining, and Empowering--tee hee);

(i) writing a pantoum (for god's sake!);

[(j) ust what is it about me and the alphabet these days?]

(k) reading more biographies and letters of poets;

(l) attending more readings;

(m) buying more poetry books and subscribing to more lit mags;

(n) learning to play tennis, and, at the track, sprinting;

(o) riding my bike along the Lake every Bicycle Sunday;

(p) nordic skiing and less attention to submitting (really);

(q) laughing and sexing it up;

(r) decluttering and praying;

(s) writing more reviews of poetry books;

(t) trying to write essays;

(u) putting together a poetry class for Richard Hugo house;

(v) volunteering at a soup kitchen;

(w) spending less time online;

(x) taking better care of my back molars;

(y) spending more time birdwatching;

(z) writing more letters by hand.

(If I only do one thing on my list, I will consider myself successful. The one thing I want to do? Write poetry and get physical exercise most days this year.)

Happy resolutioning everyone (or happy un-resolutioning, as the case may be). [I know: I am ridiculous, but this is not a joke. These are really the things I want to accomplish this year. I am putting this out into the world not because I want to feel like a failure when January 5 rolls around, but because I want to refer back to this list throughout the year . . . when I realize that I have barely had time to shower or brush my teeth because all I do is tend to my kids and my students.]