#SOL14 - Goodnight, Dear Slicers, Goodnight

Tonight I sent in my poetry for the third assignment in the class I'm taking. I set out to write poems from the perspectives of different women in today's society. What I ended up with was more of a social commentary type of poem; not anything I thought I would ever write.

There are two poems on motherhood, though only one made the final cut. The rest of the poems cover feminism, aging, false beauty, sex trafficking, and goddesses -- ancient and modern. Interesting to me, was the fact that I don't necessarily agree with the perspective of each poem. Some are more about being misunderstood than anything else. But I'm glad I wrote them, and I believe I'll keep writing around this subject. There is so much to cover on the topic of the 21st Century Woman; I have material for days.

I was sad not to be able to send the second poem on motherhood. It was one of the softer pieces I wrote, but just didn't feel finished. In fact, I think it's only about halfway done. I very much love the current last lines, though. And I think they are fitting for the last night of this March Slice of Life Challenge:

She sits beside the quiet

like a stranger.

And... goodnight, dear readers, goodnight.

#SOL14 - Poetry Problems

Tonight I'm working on poetry. This is the third assignment of four, each a little different but all focused on creativity. I decided a couple weeks ago that I wanted to create a collection of poems centered around what it means to be a woman in the 21st century. I played with ideas in my head, felt certain it would all come together rather easily.

Tonight I'm wrestling with poetry. The words are stubborn, my thoughts are jumbled, the pen trips over itself. I thought I knew what I wanted to say, but the more I say the more perspectives I think of, and the less centered I find myself. I'm toying with words on paper, circling the questionable, crossing out the rubbish, rewriting the remains.

Tonight I'm writing poetry. It's hard, it's glorious, it's completely imperfect. It's exactly what I want to be doing. Working, wrestling, writing, reflecting on what's real. I'm finding the truth, narrowing down the words, sculpting the obscure into something known and beautiful.

Tonight, I'm writing.

#SOL14 - A Strong Woman

Grandma Cooper was a strong woman.

I like to think I inherited her emotional strength and determination. Sometimes I just tell myself it's true, when I need to feel a little bolder. I think about her often; not a week passes these days without her on my mind.

There are many days when The Husband and I are shopping that I stop suddenly and squeal, "Eeee! I love this! I must have it!"

He just smiles and nods, saying, "I bet your grandma had one just like it, right?"

And most of the time, he's right. I fill my house with things that remind me of her: bowls, paintings, furniture, and even shoes. I look out into my backyard and cringe, knowing she would shake her head at the state of the flowerbeds, cluck her tongue at the lack of a garden. I learned to knit because of her, and stopped knitting when she passed. It's a strange connection, but I'm not ready to pick my needles back up again.

She has a spot in everything I write -- a wisp of a character trait, a location, a saying. Writing her into my stories breathes life back into my aging memories of her. I wish I knew more, had more to write, but I have just the memories of a lifetime of shuffling about from state to state -- of hugs and tears each time we said goodbye -- of a brief little pocket of time when we lived in the same sunshine town on the coast of Florida. All good memories, filled with earth and food and cloth and warmth and smiles.

Grandma Cooper was a strong woman. I like to think I carry a little seed of that strength with me, just as I carry her heart in my heart.