March 4, 2021

Magnetic Fuel

I told a beloved on Tuesday that I hadn’t been posting a lot on Spark and Spitfire because I’m “shit deep into my ME-moir.” The emphasis on my excuse is the word, “shit.” A couple of weeks ago, I landed on and began a new direction in this nearly 35+ year undertaking, and was quite jazzed about it. Needless to say, after a week of upbeat resolve, I hit the proverbial writer’s wall and have been mercilessly beating my head against it.

Adrienne suggested that I apply to my writing process the creative process I championed during my corporate America career: “Play with words. Step back. Look for connections.” So this past Tuesday morning, I looked for and found my stash of magnetic poetry — all seven sets, including the “Genius” and “Wizard of Oz” sets. The last time I — with friends — had created with them was in December of 1995.

A magnetic poem created by my late beloved poet friend, Kathy Mitchell on December 9, 1995:

Two poems I created several months later with the “Wizard of Oz” magnetic poetry:

Two of the sets included magnetic boards because who wants to carry around a refrigerator?

Jem was quite captivated by my creative output.

Anyhoo, I organized the words in each set by nouns, verbs, adjectives, pronouns, etc. and, well, STARED and STARED and STARED. Then I put together this haiku:

I turned to the other set of magnetic poetry and STARED and STARED and STARED some more. Then I created this haiku:

In addition to the magnetic poetry, I found my tubes of oil paint, gouache, water colors, Faber-Castell drawing pencils, fine-liner colored pens and pencils, crayons, coloring books, Play-Dough and deluxe Spirograph. Quite a stash of stuff to unleash creativity and temper frustration, no?

Stay tuned.

Jem’s look of haiku approval.

12 Comments

  • You have Jem’s obvious approval, who by the way, is looking sweet and beautiful; Play Dough which is a creative necessity, and a Deluxe Spirograph. I had a Spirograph growing up – one of my favorite toys a long with my Betsy Wetsy doll. Your haikus are very uplifting and inspiring. Go Sharie! No stopping you now. You’ve had the power all along. Click together your own “red ruby slippers.” ❤️❤️❤️

    • Thank you, Merrie Lee. [BTW, you were awake before me!]

      I remember your Betsy Wetsy doll. Remember how much I HATED dolls? You and our other siblings continued to get girly things for birthdays and holidays after our mother gave up on me. I got things like a Fort Apache play set and a Draw-A-Cartoon set [which is in my attic, I wish I still had the Fort Apache set]. Looks like Mom knew a creative soul when she reluctantly saw one.

      Jem appreciates your comment, too. xoxo

  • I forgot to mention my jigsaw puzzles. I see them as creatively stimulating in some respect. Not sure which respect — perhaps in the respect of staring and staring and staring.

  • I also forgot to mention the camera on my lowly iPhone 7, and the creative stimulation and solace I receive from my morning sunset walk meditations. That camera lens has taught me a new way of seeing, which is basically: pay attention to what’s right before your eyes.

  • The challenge with magnetic poetry is that you can only work with the words provided. I just sat down to prepare for the day’s adventure ahead and used the magnetic words to create this haiku:

    dog under turtle
    a tiny mountain of love
    friends traveling together

    Buckle up, Sharon!

  • Gotta say that you’re the only person I know who is graced with ‘morning sunSET walks’………..but, ya know, idiosyncratic people do see things a bit tilted.
    The patience required to complete a haiku with magnetic words does require, as stated, a great deal of staring. The same can be said of the tackling and completion of a gazzilion-piece jigsaw puzzle. One might gather that you’re staring a mite much. I do applaud your use of Faber-Castell, as they are primo.
    How about you and a legal pad and your favorite writing implement, period? Stare at that. The blank page will hold you captive til your teeth grind so you will fill it with doodles? thoughts of writer’s block? your gratefulness for whatever? your observation of your sunset morning? Bub, you need nothing but pad and pencil. All the rest is fodder for stare.

    • “Fodder for staring”

      I added a syllable so it could be the first line of a haiku. Go at it.

      Our comments paused in cyberspace, “it’s me, bub.” Thank you for your advice. I appreciate your spark and spit-fire.

      I wish you could see my writing room at the moment. Behind me is an 18″ x 24″ piece of paper filled with scribbles. To my right is another one and underneath that, yet another one. Adrienne says it all looks like something Carrie from “Homeland” would create. Keep in mind, these sheets were all empty before I took a pencil and began scribbling. That being said, it has not been unproductive. I found two lines that took me to draft something in pen in my writing notebook. I typed it up yesterday. Eh. Some of it can be salvaged.

      I soldier on.

  • Wish I could razzle-dazzle you with some fancy haiku about stare fodder. Truth is, I had to look up the qualifying rules for such and was not gripped by the need to tackle the restrictive form. I don’t like counting and I don’t know what a ‘cutting word’ is. Don’t know if I’d know one if I spotted it. Hats off to all who master it.

    If your writing room begins to resemble a scene from ‘A Beautiful Mind’ lemme know.

    Soldier on. Bring your A game.

  • Thank for the shout-out for me and for Natalie’s book.

    Mercifully, I started writing haiku before I ever studied it, or I might NEVER have begun. I learned from reading Clark Strand’s “Seeds From a Birch Tree” and in a quick scan of the book, I don’t see the words “kire” or “cutting word” anywhere, but he does refer to the juxtaposition between two images, where the mind makes a little leap. It creates the “space” that is often the hallmark of the best haiku poems.

    Jim Kacian writes that “…the Kire, or ‘cutting word’ … results in juxtaposition between two images in the poem, guaranteeing that haiku are always about relationship, a stated or implied comparison of elements.” So, using the example of my haiku, shared in your comment above, the juxtaposition is between “forget-me-nots” and “missing my parents.” These two things are not directly related, but our mind makes the leap and gets it.

    I wrote thousands of haiku before ever really knowing all the rules. I probably will never know them all. I just love the practice of writing haiku. For me, it is a mindfulness practice which brings me fully into the present moment. What a relief it is, because I find peace in the present moment. When I first began writing haiku, I had sons at war in Iraq and Afghanistan. It was important for me to find the moments of peace which existed simultaneously with war. It strengthened my heart and gave me something to build on.

    • You are welcome for the shout-out, Beth, which is much deserved.

      Thank you for the Beth tutorial on writing haiku. I have that Clark Strand book — it was one of the books I had to read before attending a Natalie Goldberg retreat, and I can’t remember if it was the one in 1996 at Ghost Ranch or the one ten years later in Taos, where I first met you.

      While cleaning out my writing files a couple of weeks ago, I came across a single sheet of paper entitled, “Deep & Slow haiku by Beth Howard”. On the front and back — in your handwriting — are 27 haiku, divided into five categories: Fall, Winter, Spring, Summer and “Other.”

      Here’s my favorite from “Winter”:

      shiny black crows roost
      on bare cottonwood branches:
      winter foliage

      And these in the “Other” category:

      mindfulness breakdown:
      arguing with my mother
      who has dementia

      having discipline
      is highly over-rated
      by those who have none

      This last one cuts close to the bone.

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