Have Words Will Travel

It’s been a bit of a dry spell with my poetry since the end of the semester.  I think summer is a difficult time for me and poetry because of the kids.  They’re home and wanting to be entertained, and I have a hard time being in work mode when I’m doing the mommy thing all day.  Especially when there is so much to do outside.

Submissions, of course, are a little off that schedule because they vary so much in terms of response time and typically take months from the time the submission is sent.  However, I have ten-or-so submissions out there, several of which I should have heard from a month or two ago and haven’t yet.  I’ve been compulsively checking the mail every day, but no SASE’s to be found.  Dry spell, indeed.

Finally, last night I heard via email from Alehouse Press that one of the poems I entered in their Happy Hour Poetry Award contest was chosen for their 2009 issue (coming out in November 2008) and is in the group that will be judged for the finals.  The prize money is really good, so I’ve got my fingers crossed.  The poem was one of those magical ones that comes out almost perfect in the first draft (which hardly ever happens for me) so just maybe…

I’m sure no one will be surprised to hear that I love it when my kids do a poetry unit in school each year. I get all excited, wanting to know who they’re studying, what poems they like most, and I especially love it when they have to write poems of their own. At this point, they still take my advice on revisions (and I try very hard not to inflict myself on their poetic visions and stick entirely to matters of craft) and my younger son is a natural poet, which thrills me.

Both my boys are doing poetry right now, one in 7th grade, and the other in 9th. The 7th grader is extremely opinionated about poetry and is determined to be published by this time next year. He writes well and is passionate about certain poems, his favorites being Poe’s “The Raven” and “Loveliest of Trees” by A.E. Houseman. The latter, he has memorized and uses to torment his brother by reciting it at inappropriate moments.

My older son, who is fifteen, recently had to choose six poems to analyze from a long list, and I was curious to see what he would choose. His list included “O Captain! My Captain!” by Walt Whitman, “I Heard A Fly Buzz” by Emily Dickinson, “The Force That Through the Green Fuse Drives the Flower” by Dylan Thomas, Adrienne Rich’s “Prospective Immigrants Please Note,” Frost’s “The Road Not Taken,” and Jarrell’s “The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner.” I was interested in these selections and excitedly asked him to tell me what made him choose those in particular.

He said, “Actually, I couldn’t really tell the difference between any of them, so I just randomly picked six.”

Oh.