I love a class that ignites my learning gene. In January I did a post called “Hit the Restart Button on Learning” and mentioned I would be taking a poetry class. The class was taught by Professor Julie Paegle, director of the M.F.A. Program in Creative Writing at California State University San Bernardino. The class title? “Reversing Spells, Secrets Spilled, and The Line’s Surprise.”
As primarily a fiction writer, I liked her review of the basics and this comparison:
lines … enjambed sentences
art of language art of story
I liked these poetry guidelines:
1. the best words (nouns, verbs, prepositions)
2. imagery (language that appeals to the senses)
5. The poem should look and sound beautiful.
We explored the line break or turn, the spell a poem can cast, and tried our hand at writing. Paegle introduced us to the power of secrets. We each wrote down two secrets, one true and one not. She collected the papers and then passed them back to us, making sure we didn’t get our own. We then chose one secret to write about, using any form and a refrain. We didn’t know if the secret we chose was true or not. My class offering:
I Would Have Married My Cousin If He Hadn’t Been
From my soul I long
to tell him
I love him today
but I cannot.
hugs the air around me
tickles me to speak
but I cannot.
In my thoughts
his strong arms hold me
I wish to be there always
but I cannot.
We learned about a form of poetry new to me called a ghazal (pronounced ‘gezel). The poet Agha Shahid Ali writes in this form. A ghazal has a minimum of five couplets and a maximum of 15. The first couplet introduces a rhyme scheme and a refrain. The remaining couplets have the refrain in the second line only and keep the rhyme scheme. The poet often includes his/her own name in the last couplet. Ghazals are about love, loss, longing, the metaphysical.
“Tonight” by Agha Shahid Ali
Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell tonight?
Whom else from rapture’s road will you expel tonight?
Those “Fabrics of Cashmere—” “to make Me beautiful—”
“Trinket”—to gem—“Me to adorn—How tell”—tonight?
I beg for haven: Prisons, let open your gates—
A refugee from Belief seeks a cell tonight.
God’s vintage loneliness has turned to vinegar—
All the archangels—their wings frozen—fell tonight.
Lord, cried out the idols, Don’t let us be broken;
Only we can convert the infidel tonight.
Mughal ceilings, let your mirrored convexities
multiply me at once under your spell tonight.
He’s freed some fire from ice in pity for Heaven.
He’s left open—for God—the doors of Hell tonight.
In the heart’s veined temple, all statues have been smashed.
No priest in saffron’s left to toll its knell tonight.
God, limit these punishments, there’s still Judgment Day—
I’m a mere sinner, I’m no infidel tonight.
Executioners near the woman at the window.
Damn you, Elijah, I’ll bless Jezebel tonight.
The hunt is over, and I hear the Call to Prayer
fade into that of the wounded gazelle tonight.
My rivals for your love—you’ve invited them all?
This is mere insult, this is no farewell tonight.
And I, Shahid, only am escaped to tell thee—
God sobs in my arms. Call me Ishmael tonight.
Here is a recording of “Tonight.” Enjoy the rhythm … the music. Quite beautiful.
I then found this more “modern” ghazal.
Gotta love us brown girls, munching on fat, swinging blue hips,
decked out in shells and splashes, Lawdie, bringing them woo hips.
As the jukebox teases, watch my sistas throat the heartbreak,
inhaling bassline, cracking backbone and singing thru hips.
Like something boneless, we glide silent, seeping ‘tween floorboards,
wrapping around the hims, and ooh wee, clinging like glue hips.
Engines grinding, rotating, smokin’, gotta pull back some.
Natural minds are lost at the mere sight of ringing true hips.
Gotta love us girls, just struttin’ down Manhattan streets
killing the menfolk with a dose of that stinging view. Hips.
Crying ’bout getting old—Patricia, you need to get up off
what God gave you. Say a prayer and start slinging. Cue hips.
— Patricia Smith, author of Shoulda Been Jimi Savannah
All in all, a great morning, a great class. What’s ignited your learning gene recently?
Carol- you have a talent that is beyond measure. Your words are wonderful!!!! And a joy to read. Thank you for sharing your soul. Love, Judy
Thank you, Judy. So much happened in that class in just three hours! And with someone else’s secret, maybe true … maybe not. A wonderful experience.
From the time I was a child, I used to write poetry all the time. I wrote a lot while my mother was dying and right after her death 18 years ago. I haven’t been able to write any since.
Hi Cyndy – Perhaps you can find a workshop in your area. It might entice the muse, if you’re ready to have her. This workshop was only three hours but they were powerful hours.
Anthony Turi – Help! I’m unable to find a place on your site to comment or “like” your blog.
I took a creative writing module Carol, I just wish I was a lot better at understanding academic requirements of meeting assignment questions, hopefully by the end of the year I’ll have got my head around it :). beautiful poetry 🙂
Charlotte – I have no doubt you’ll be meeting your requirements quite handily and creatively. I just came from a writing class on the personal essay. An essay of mine with emphasis on setting will be workshopped this coming Monday along with one other writer’s. We’ll see how well my work stands up under scrutiny by my fellow writers! Thank you for stopping by. And thank you, always, for posting your performances.
I hope it went well Carol? Did you find it useful?
This Monday is the day … fingers crossed!
Your poem was super duper Carol. In answer to your question about what’s ignited my interest in learning, I’ll be saying it’s you sweet Carol. I’m gonna research ghazal.
SusanB … I think the ghazal is intriguing. Haven’t had a chance to try it yet. Let me know what you think.
Charlotte Hoather – The workshopping of the story was very useful. Good critiques and suggestions. Instructor offered a unique structural idea I am incorporating.