Poetry grab bag

Yesterday I held a writing workshop for students at my house. We talked about using concrete objects as central metaphors, or as launching points, for poetry. I read aloud a long poem with an extended metaphor, in which the word tongue appeared in every stanza. Then the fun began.

I pulled out a rainbow-colored gift bag (I have to do things with flourish) and let the students examine a variety of objects, selecting one to use as their inspiration point. One student picked a package of 24 little cocktail umbrellas; I had a package of beignet mix from New Orleans; another student grabbed a little stone orange heart made in Kenya. Other items in the bag included a shiny pinwheel, a pack of diner-style condiment dispensers (you know, the squeezy, refillable ketchup and mustard bottles?); an orange votive candle with a witch on it; and a clutch of Indian-stye bangles.

Then we all began writing, and in about 20 minutes we had six poems written. One of them, which played with the image cocktail umbrellas in ways I had never considered (including the futility of trying to ward off a storm with a paper umbrella and paper galoshes), has all the makings of a great poem.

With a little shaping, the poem I wrote about New Orleans in the aftermath of Katrina, might just have the makings of a good poem.

This grab-bag technique was fun and inexpensive, and getting our hands on. . .well, stuff. . .helped all of us learn how to write about stuff. If a picture is worth a thousand words, so is a metaphor.