Archive for the ‘Fiction’ category

From headlines to poetry

June 9, 2020

This weekend, I challenged my 13-year old son to a poetry project using words and images found in magazines. I wanted a project that would be quick and creative and make him look at words in different ways.

And, in a small way, I wanted to encourage him to think about how we react to headlines in news articles.

At first, it was a little bit of a struggle – he cut out whole phrases from magazine headlines, and I reminded him that we can’t copy someone else’s ideas. He even abandoned the project for a day, because he wanted to write a critique about the opening scene to the movie (he did write it and it a good analysis). But the next day he said he would finish the project.

All we needed was a magazine (or newspaper), scissors, paper, and glue. We cut out the words and images that caught out attention, and then went back for the words we needed to finish our poems.

I just cleared out old magazines, so I had just one magazine in the house, “Modern Luxury Hawai‘i” (May/June 2020). It may sound like an odd choice for inspiration during a time of crisis, but both of our poems focus on the luxury of hope and heroism.

This is the poetry art he created:

And this is the poetry art I created:

What kinds of headlines capture your attention? How do headlines affect the way you read articles?

Poetry: Vile the Sun

June 2, 2020

Vile the Sun
By BWL (age 13)

Cares are being searched for
Opportunities are being closed and opened
Right as we speak
Of course,
Not to mention the bravery of healthcare workers
And those who help support and keep the systems in place
Violence infects as a result of the unjust death of Floyd
In spite of all measures to prevent further spread of COVID-19
Rules are being broken and lives are being lost
Ultimately, we need to be civilized people whilst remembering and bringing justice to Floyd
So how will you change and what will you do?

 

Artwork courtesy of Pixabay.com and creator Geralt.

Poetry: Come sit with me

May 12, 2020

Come sit with me
by RLC

Come sit with me a while beside the shore;

We’ll talk a thing or two before we’re done,

Sitting with the sun bright overhead.

I haven’t come for years, since I was young

And liked to sit beside a stream and fish.

My dad would take me on a rare weekend,

Carrying our bamboo fishing poles

Strung with chord, and at the end, a hook –

We’d fasten bread crumbs or some crust…

I never cared if I caught anything,

But I loved to sit beside my dad and fish

In the shade, in the quiet, sitting side by side.

And afterwards we’d drive for lunch someplace,

And I could walk with my dad and just belong.

But the fishing was better, I had him to myself

By stream or shore for half a day or more.

I don’t come fishing now, but when I do

I like to sit and not catch anything.

Come sit with me a little while;

I don’t often get to be with you.

Poetry: Climbing the Mountain

August 20, 2019

Climbing the Mountain
by Rachelle Chang

High upon the mountain, winds
Breathe cold and chill. The night
Climbs slowly to the top of heaven.
We follow the road unwavering,
Winding our way up the mountain,
Walking in hushed expectation.
I keep turning back, looking down
To the city we left behind,
Glittering like scattered jewels.
We leave the road at some odd angle,
Climb higher in the solemn dark.
We listen to the echoes of the night.
We walk a path of gleaming,
And laugh to see our steps
Have found the road again.
And so we follow where the road leads.
Higher still the air is clear.
We reach up to touch the sky.
Our souls release their burdens.
Comforting and calm, the night
Soothes the harshness of the day.
We return with quiet contemplation,
Refreshed, renewed, excited.
Our eyes are full of hope,
Our hearts are clear and light.

Poetry: Too Soon

January 8, 2019

Too Soon
by Rachelle Chang

I saw you here the other night,
And here you are again.
No one ever comes this way
But me, and you, in the rain.

This place, it is so strange and far
From all that I have known…
I linger here, but not for long,
I’ve been too long alone.

And you, I know, won’t leave this place,
While I must journey on;
Tell them for me, when they return,
That I’m already gone.

I came too soon, you see, I came
And now I stay too late;
I ask you this: when they return,
Tell them I could not wait.