The One-Minute Poem

To honor National Poetry Month, I offer you a smidgen of spontaneity: the one-minute poem.

A high school friend and I sometimes wrote these poems (or 5-minute stories) on stagnant summer afternoons when we were tired of swimming, or wandering the aisles of Tower Records. The poem-writing filled little gaps of time where we laughed, amazed each other, and were nudged beyond our normal ways of thinking. Here's how you can do it:

1) Gather a friend or two.
2) Locate things to write with.
3) Find a timer. Set it for 1 minute.
4) Write.
5) Don't think.
6) Stop writing when the minute ends.
7) Read your poems aloud. Just enjoy hearing how they sound.
8) Repeat.

I'm always surprised by the writing that happens when I take away the rules, the criticism. My editor's left brain takes a break, and my right brain gets to float around, happy.

In what ways do you succeed when you leap instead of plan?

Art Teachers

It's Saturday morning and the blog calls to me. Do I want things a different color? Do the textures jive? This interest in graphic design began for me in college.

Here's a page from a book I constructed during my junior year in England, where I studied graphics and photography at a small art college in Bristol. Old black and white family photos intrigued me. I loved their nostalgic character and technical clarity. By inserting short lines of text with my own images, I hoped to present a multitude of possible interpretations.

What did you create years ago? How do you view your art now?

On Journaling

Have you ever wondered why you feel lighter after putting thoughts, ideas, ramblings and images on paper?

If you're wanting a little motivation to get scrawling, Sue Meyn and her goodie bag of journaling ideas will help you get started. I still have my deck of JournalCards from 2005, and they're dog-eared and well-loved, and capable of providing lots of sparkly enlightenment.

Here's to the magic of paper and pens and broad cafe tables everywhere...

Happy Morning

Janice, cat friend

This morning I got up before the dawn thought about cracking. Drank my very tall glass of water. Relocated Janice (17 years old) to my desk. Wrote email notes to kind friends. Read various odds and ends though I knew my journal was calling me. (I got to the journal and the essay and story-revising eventually.)

Sweet teeth, June 2000

What were you doing while I was doing plain stuff? Maybe you weren't writing in your journal either. Maybe you were getting ready for your birthday.

This one's from a birthday a few years ago. Guess who ate all that cake?

May your early mornings and birthdays go splendidly...