This month’s it’s an ekphrastic poem — a photo I took in the Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs this winter. I had in mind a formal response but it didn’t happen. In fact, nothing happened. I got caught up in revising a novel and working on picture books and learning how to do sudoku puzzles.
And suddenly I remembered, oh, right, a poem! Darn!
You’ll see that it is itself a meditation on that.
This Poem is Excellent Practice
by Liz Garton Scanlon
My friend Laura says
every bad poem
is excellent practice
like summiting a peak when the sky
suddenly cracks wide open,
your hair stands on end and you turn
back, race the rain, slip below tree line,
call it a day. Excellent practice.
Like a raptor diving for a mouse
and missing, coming up hungry
and surprised. Excellent practice.
Like a rock deciding, after millennia,
to topple from its spot, to crash
to the valley floor and shatter
into all the tiny pieces but instead
coming to rest, suspended in limbo,
unfinished for millennia more.
Yes,
what excellent practice.
My sisters did a better job than I this month!
Go see their poems here:
And Poetry Friday is HERE, with all sorts of deliciousness! Go! Enjoy!
I had a very similar conversation with a kindergarten class this week, where we talked about writing being just like any other skill – you need to practice, practice, practice! And even when something doesn’t come out quite right, you can always fix it and learn from it. 😀
I love that you took Laura’s words and used them in your poem. It’s hard to see a bad poem as excellent practice, but she’s right. And your examples of practice are gorgeous and spot on.
“My sisters did a better job than I this month!”
Oh, I don’t know about that – you used the current conversation and shaped it into an evocative metaphor about trying and failing and learning something. I’m well impressed!
Oh, Liz, that raptor diving and coming up hungry and surprised. Isn’t that how we feel after almost every single damn poem? Reading this, though, I feel well-nourished. Love this. Proud to have uttered the totally boring words that inspired this beauty.
I enjoyed this poem a lot. I love your vivid comparisons between writing practice and other events.
Like a rock deciding, after millennia,
to topple from its spot, to crash
to the valley floor and shatter
into all the tiny pieces but instead
coming to rest, suspended in limbo,
unfinished for millennia more.
Yes,
what excellent practice.
This is exactly how I felt after working 2 weeks straight for hours a day writing for a contest to not even get an honorable mention. Trying to have a positive attitude about the practice and hard work, but feeling bad about coming up empty! 🙂
Oh, it’s so hard. I feel you!!
Like Laura, I love that raptor moment too. When I goof up, I’m going to start saying: Oh, mouse!! Heh, heh. I also am amused by the fact that in your poem, the rock wanted to smash up dramatically, but got embarrassingly stuck and now,,,,we’ve posted its picture all over the internet. Got me feeling sorry for the poor thing.
Excellent!
Such wisdom in that excellent practice!