dontravis.com
blog post #357
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| Courtesy of Pxhere.com |
Dennis Kastendiek and I co-teach a free writing course called Wordwrights at the North Domingo Baca
Multigenerational Center in Albuquerque every Monday afternoon. It’s a nice
group of people. We’re an open class, so anyone is free to attend at any time…
or skip sessions if life interferes.
The
last hour-and-a-half of the two-hour course is given over to comments on
material submitted by class members for review… be they poems or fiction or
memoir or essay. After a reading to the class by the author, our members are
invited to give their comments. We get caught up in writing rules and how to
break writing rules and does the material grip the reader… the usual things one
would expect in a writing class.
But
every once in a while someone comes along and puts us in our place by reminding
us that everyone does not march to the beat of the same drum. Our class member,
Joe Lovato—a quiet, unassuming, talented writer—delivered the class its comeuppance
with the following poem he’s graciously permitted me to reproduce in my blog.
*****
THE
WRITING CLASS
By Joe Lovato
As he sat and scribbled crazy thoughts
He wondered what the sane would think.
Will he love it, will she hate it, does it stink?
Two kind shepherds tried to
guide one lost lamb
out of the forest of doubt.
The lamb asks the trees for help.
And
they said:
“I liked it, but that part
was a little vague, and redundant
I didn’t understand,
It stopped me,
I had to think.”
And
the lamb bleated:
“Why must we
try to reach everyone,
have conflict at all costs,
always advance the story,
bleach thought with clarity?
You don’t have to be literal to be literate.
Why must the blood on the rose be edible?
Cookie-cutters don’t make the cookies taste better.
We’re not going to make it to the bigs.
If we did we’d be like that old ball player,
the luckiest man on the face of the earth guy
who died of Lou Gehrig’s disease.
Anyway, success might be more glorious… posthumously.”
And
they said:
“We criticize the work not the writer,
“We criticize the work not the writer,
but we can’t let one little pig build a
straw house.”
And
the lamb bleated:
“I’m a lamb!
This isn’t calculus it’s ego therapy.
Don’t cry to be understood
understand what you’re feeling.”
The furrowed boughs on the frowning ferns
revealed their stoic thoughts.
The lamb thought, I’ve used the word thought too much.
They won’t like it, but it’s a good word,
deserves recognition.
This probably took them out of it,
at least I’ve killed their apathy.
The lamb turned away shaking his shaggy head.
He pitied the pedantic poets
lost in the throes of perfection.
But then he thought,
crazy lambs never understand
why they’re not understood.
*****
Like
I say… a comeuppance—nicely delivered. Good job, Joe
The advance buy link for
The Voxlightner Scandal follows: http://www.dsppublications.com/books/upcoming-releases-c
Now
my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on
writing. You have something to say, so say it!
My
personal links: (Note the change in the Email address because I’m still getting
remarks on the old dontravis21@gmail.com. PLEASE DON’T USE
THAT ONE.)
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982
Twitter:
@dontravis3
Buy
links to Abaddon’s Locusts:
See
you next week.
Don
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