Our Poetry Sisters Prompt this month was to write “In the Style of…” Taylor Mali. Originally (mostly, I think) a spoken word poet, Mali tends toward longer form stuff, which (after a full month of haiku) felt a little daunting.
But then I found the section of his website where he offers prompts of his own, and in one of them, he appears to have written “In the Style of …” Nikki Giovanni! And I thought, how very meta! Plus, nice and short!
So, here goes, in the style of Nikki Giovanni’s Winter Poem and Taylor Mali’s This All Once Was Field. You might want to go here to read those first.
(Oh, also, I’ve based today’s haiku on this slightly longer poem because, two birds, etc. etc. And interestingly, both poem-versions are about a really big, dramatic experience in our family’s lives that happened more than 20 years ago but that I’ve never really dug into in writing. So, no time like the present, right?)
The Flood
In the Style of Nikki Giovanni and Taylor Mali
Once, the creek rose,
slipped inside like a shadow,
changed the shape of everything
and stretched out time till it just stood still.
I held up my hands and couldn’t see them
except for what they did, lifting the baby,
holding her above what was lapping at our ankles,
and I was a tree then, these were our roots
and we grew from there.
The Flood, As Haiku
The creek came inside
and my arms became branches,
lifting baby high
#lizsharespoems
#30daysofhaiku
#NationalPoetryMonth
#PoetryPals
To read the other Mali-inspired poems, go here:
Laura
Tanita
Mary Lee
Tricia
Sara
Kelly
Andi
Thanks to Jone for hosting Poetry Friday this week!
And, in case you’re interested in joining us next month, we will be writing poems around the words string, thread, rope, or chain. You’ve got a month to craft your creation(s), then share your offering with the rest of us on May 27th in a post and/or on social media with the tag #PoetryPals. We look forward to reading your poems!
Taylor Mali has provided all of us with challenges and surprises this month…and that’s the best kind of challenge, isn’t it?
You got two amazing poems from this memory…maybe there will be more? Seems like the start of a verse novel…just sayin’…
Taylor Mali has provided all of us with challenges and surprises this month…and that’s the best kind of challenge, isn’t it?
You got two amazing poems from this memory…maybe there will be more? Seems like the start of a verse novel…just sayin’…
Wonderful imagery! xo
This style puts me right in that moment – water rising, doing the only thing possible to do: lifting the baby, and time standing still. I love your last line “…we grew from here.”
“and I was a tree then, these were our roots” seems a good memory, even in the flood, something that helped. The poems I’ve read so far have been so thoughtful, Liz, like a re-look at some part of one’s life. I like your haiku, too, all that’s needed.
Oh, what a very neat way to write about yourself as tree, about the rootedness of being the one saving someone even as you were also the one a bit rootless as your house flooded — I agree with Mary Lee – this is a rich topic, and what lovely poems you got out of them. I can’t decide which I like best!
Well, 2ndCousin Tanita said everything I would have, so I’ll just note that and also my appreciation for “how very meta” and “two birds,etc.” A girl’s got to synergize just to get through, these days.
The line “changed the shape of everything” is so powerful.
Your haikuu captures the poignant part of the longer poem so deftly. Love them both.
Wow. Such a dramatic moment, both outside–flood against family–and inside, the knowledge of your responsibility to keep a tiny, fragile human safe. Lovely, Liz!
Wow, Liz – I enjoyed the inspiration poems, and was immediately invested in yours –
“slipped inside like a shadow/changed the shape of everything”
is just masterful.
Thanks for sharing!
What a beautiful transformation that evolved in your poem from this traumatic happening. Love that ending, and the haiku too, thanks Liz, and for the linked poems also!
The flood slipping in like a shadow….that gave me shivers, and then the whole poem built from there, rooting me with you in gorgeous imagery and deep feeling. I agree with the others that something is definitely asking to be heard/written/explored.
What gorgeous imagery for something so terrifying, Liz. (We were flooded out of our apartment in Alaska when I was seven years old — I still remember being carried away from the building in a small boat.) The final lines of your Mali-esque poem (love that prompt) anchored me and reminded me of the strength that can grow from such difficult experiences.