Monday, July 14, 2014

The Moon Is Our Hope - The Day One Magic Box Poem From The Activity We Kick Off With This Morning @writingproject @cwpfairfield

I have been doing the 'Magic Box' activity with students for almost two decades. It's an exercise that gets students playing with language and putting ideas together in random ways. Every time I do this activity, I play around with my own ten words and walk myself through all the steps to get the language moving. The result for Day One of this week's Young Adult Literacy Lab for Poets with Attallah Sheppard and Gina Forberg is

The Moon Is Our Hope

Sometimes it’s a bummer, 
the way summer makes us dumber 
    without having a coffeehouse for our souls.

We write to grow and tumble, 
in this intellectual triathlon, we rumble,
 with word-play, although it may crumble,
 or melt like ice-cream from our sweat…

How much do you want to bet
 we’ll need a dictionary, a library 
(some Pictionary with a strawberry)
while we work our way to this Friday
as plumbers who unclog brains?

Oh, as Gina explains, “It’s crackerjacks
 and sea scallops, 
cotton candy, a writer’s palate,
especially with sips of wine.”

Thumper hops, and blubber bops, 
we writers, take whatever drops
to sprinkle upon the page.
“Poetry,” she says out loud, “is good for any age. 
Together, friends, let’s contemplate and rage”

The moon is the hope,
the mother to the madness, 
who is mesmerized by Pandora’s box - 
she is a fox with the potential for
 friendship and memories. 
She is a maniac
who is moved by angels, 
meandering with lawn gnomes 
through the gardens of a good book,
and, like a rainbow, she 
makes us magnificent like a nap. 

The Diva has her magic rings,
and like Alisha Keys she sings, 
and brings us possibility, its supremes,
in the wishful ways such music brings
passionate pianos and a 
one-woman show,
the miracles, the monologues, 
& the ways the voice will grow,
from bursting forth - the renaissance - 
all of us are destined to explode
in the melodic, theatrical dreams 
upon the BET Harlem road
granting us to know,
what’s civil and right
while the symphony marches within us.

This is the voice of CWP - 
it’s you & us, both you & me,
who serendipitously skip 
along the shoreline…
It’s the poet who must design the miracles
along the Sound.

Yes, it’s summer vacation, 
but the creations abound and
 fly with the magical birds - 
your words - those brain turds -
coasting along the waterfront 
            of your soul, ya’ know? 
as you doodle your world 
and find the sand-songs dunes 
that trickle along the beach…

and for this reason we must reach
       and say: 

u gotta write for what’s right 
& fight with all u’r might 
to insight incite 
and to ignite a spotlight 
to put yourself in the limelight 
outright & forthright,

because there is no other way.

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