In observance of National Poetry Month, Main Library hosted a Poetry Showcase on April 6th 2017.
There were laughter, tears, smiles and applause as members of the writing group Write Like You Mean It read their works aloud. In addition to original works, participants read poems by famous writers, including Maya Angelou and Langston Hughes. Themes included current events, childhood, survival, patriotism and humor.
If you enjoy writing and would like to get your creative juices flowing, you are welcome to join Write Like You Mean It, every Thursday at Main Library. No registration is required.
Please enjoy a sample of the poems from the Poetry Showcase:
I Miss Long Ago
by Ivoriana Phillips
“I Miss Long Ago” was one of many works allowing me to express the biggest fear I’ve held: getting older. When my Depression had hit an all-time high, I’d lie in bed for days, yearning for my childhood. Not just my childhood, but all the wonderful things we tend to miss as adults: carefree days, the ability to trust without worrying about betrayal, having someone to care for you and take on most of your troubles, and making friends by simply sharing your chocolate chip cookies. I’m not sure about others, but I find adulthood hard to navigate, even at 23 years old. Such difficulty had me wondering, “Is this all there is to it?” And I honestly hope not.
I miss long ago
when the days were always summer
and filled with Christmas wonder.
I miss PB&Js for lunch and Spaghettios for dinner.
starting my morning with sugary delights and milk
as I don my flower dresses and red ribbon pigtails.
Those were the days where I stayed up at night
and read, read, read, delving into worlds of others
to explore and not
I long for when everything was all new, the sunlight was sweet
enough to coax me out of bed
with promises of many fortunes
I wish I can hold on to the belief
that Mom will always have the S on her chest,
that she'll never grow older, grow slower, that
each day she isn't sinking closer to
six feet under.
I miss having the world as my oyster,
the naiveté that fooled me into saying
"I know what I want to be when I grow up!"
instead of this "Where did I go wrong?"
I started writing at an early age, but it wasn’t until recently that I wanted to turn writing into a career. I sought as many opportunities to write and improve my story telling as I could find. Write Like You Mean It must be the best little family of writers I’ve ever joined. There is so much creativity, encouragement, laughter, and closeness that one can rarely find anywhere else. Sadly, since I’ve moved to another state, I can’t be there with the group as I would love, but still join in the activities shared to me by Miss Pam Turner! Even though my time with Write Like You Mean It was short, I feel that I’ve improved as a writer in those few months more than I have in years.
by Surabhi Kaushik
This poem on silence was written in the writing group and inspired by "Let the Silence Speak” on theviewfrommywindowlaura.com as well as a Rumi poem on silence.
Hard as a rock, quiet as the sky,
Gentle as the breeze, soft as the waves,
Bright as sunshine, dark as the night
Pouring through the rain,
Seeping through wet grass;
Many forms, yet one voice
Silence, I can find you everywhere.
Many times when I do not want to speak
I search for you silence to speak to me,
For you lie deep within, waiting to answer
A million questions my lips do not ask!
James Baldwin said, “One writes from one thing only—one’s experience.”
Every word of this quote holds true for me. The support encouragement and infectious enthusiasm shared by Pam and the writing group has shaped my writing like the skeleton shapes the body. I feel lucky to be a part of Write Like You Mean It. It has been the inspiration to write my first novel and win three writing contests consecutively. I look forward to being with the group every Thursday, because I know full well that from here, my writing will only get better.
Haze on a Grey Day
by James Scott Anderson
I wrote this on a foggy day when the top of the two tallest buildings were hidden in the haze. The writing group at Main has been a godsend for me. Sometimes writing is all I’ve got; I don’t have much. When I see something that inspires me, I just put it down on paper. It might not be great, but it’s me.
I can’t see the King’s crown,
it’s lost in the fog.
Beside Him, the Queen
is seen, barely.
The fog turns to mist
it dampens my shirt
Ms. Legs walks by
high heels and short skirt.
Heels clicking a rapid staccato
that echoes off city walls.
I hope she walks by tomorrow!
In all these views there’s such beauty.
Maybe I’m just going fruity!?
“Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.” – William Wordsworth.