Linsey Lanier
Sally Kilpatrick
Sia Huff
Romily Bernard
Darcy Crowder
Marilyn Baron
Tami Brothers
Sandra Elzie
Carol Burnside
Debbie Kaufman
Maxine Davis
Tammy Schubert
Susan Carlisle
Pam Asberry
Lindy Chaffin Start“Life beckoned to the language
and the language followed.” – Eavan Boland
by Michelle Newcome
Thanks to Nicki Salcedo for that wonderful quote. This month the theme here at PF&HT is “I was just _______ and it hit me _______.” Like creative people often do, I’ve had some rough patches recently. Mostly a result of being too invested in the world combined with a sometimes crippling sensitivity. Also like many creative people, I’m beset by insomnia – the kind where you don’t sleep at all for days. On one night when I knew sleep was just not going to happen I gave in to the whimsy I usually keep under saner and tighter control.
I was just laying in bed wide awake and it hit me – I should leave my bedroom, walk down my stairs, out the front door, onto the lawn and lay down under the dogwood tree in my front yard and stare up at the tree limbs.
Have I mentioned I live in the hood? As in there are men roaming around, armed and carrying 40 oz’s wrapped in brown paper, tossing packets of crack like mardi gras beads? Or that it was 2 am and my husband was out of town? Luckily I was wearing pajamas instead of a short nightie – although that’s altered in the poem - and the street was quiet. Luckily I’ve lost just enough weight this year to not stick up quite as much when I’m laying on my back.
My house, which I write about often, was a boarding house in the 1950′s and the landlady catered to WWII vets. She ran a tight ship – anyone who wasn’t in by curfew got locked out and slept on the lawn. I know this because my next-door neighbor was a young man then and watched it all happen. For the record, he was still disgusted forty years later.
My dogwood tree is not just any dogwood. It’s almost as old as my house – which was built in 1900. It’s enormous – easily the largest dogwood tree I’ve ever seen. I once measured it for a “Biggest Dogwood Tree in Dekalb County” contest, but due to lack of funding the contest was suspended. I was told I would have won hands down.
So, as I rested on the lawn, feeling the cold earth and the sticks, smelling the onions that grow better than grass, I decided that this experience was given to me because words needed to come. Sometimes you can bring forth the words without living them – like when you write about a place you’ve only seen on Google maps, but sometimes the words need hillocks of new grass and jewel-green leaves against dark limbs and a midnight sky. Sometimes the language hears the beckoning and finds its own way.
If you’d like to read the poem that the language wanted to be – you can find it on my website:
http://michellenewcome.com/blog/2010/04/27/to-the-men-asleep-under-the-dogwood-1958/
When in your memories did life beckon to the language? Did you follow? Not? Any rejoicing? Any regrets?
Tags: Michelle Newcome
About the author
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Michelle Newcome | Michelle divides her time in many little slices and on any given day might be holding a Girl Scout meeting, writing operational procedures, painting her house, or actually doing her writing-writing. She's ever hopeful that the pie chart of her life will some week hold a giant-sized slice of writing.
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May 6th, 2010 at 6:19 am
Wonderful poem.
I’m definitely intrigued by your house.
May 6th, 2010 at 7:07 am
Like Sally, I’m in awe cause a poet I’m not — but have read enough poetry to know a good poem when I read it
Life beckoned to the language and the language followed. My language always seems to get lost in translation. Sigh.
May 6th, 2010 at 7:09 am
I can tell your writing without your name attached. I could also tell by the photo. Green, green, green.
May 6th, 2010 at 7:11 am
Who knew insomnia could encourage the muse so much. Engaging poem and a house that’s probably full of stories. Maybe more will come to you.
May 6th, 2010 at 7:38 am
Interesting post. You are a gutsy woman to lay out on the lawn (g)
You laying under the tree is like my going to the ocean and sitting for hours to watch the waves. Awe inspiring and thought provoking.
Sandy
May 6th, 2010 at 7:38 am
Ummm…WOW!
You are a writing Guru.
This bit, “Sometimes you can bring forth the words without living them – like when you write about a place you’ve only seen on Google maps, but sometimes the words need hillocks of new grass and jewel-green leaves against dark limbs and a midnight sky,” that you wrote…STUNNING.
You’re description of your house, its past and the neighborhood surrounding it, amazing.
I haven’t read your poem yet, but I intend on visiting your site the second I press submit comment.
Thank you for your beautiful prose.
I always enjoy reading it.
T
May 6th, 2010 at 7:44 am
Michelle,
I loved the poem!
I also read A Drunk Girl in the Bathroom.
You’re fantastic.
Have a brilliant day,
Tamara (your biggest fan)
May 6th, 2010 at 7:57 am
Tamara – you make me blush. Thank you. Sandy – I have tried writing about the ocean but usually find myself unable to come up with something that has not been said already. Dianna – my house does probably have a few more stories! Anna! Your writing is just like you – understated on the surface but all punchy underneath!
May 6th, 2010 at 8:04 am
Oh, I meant to add: the landlady in the poem eventually fell down the front steps and broke her hip – but no one saw or heard her and she had to lay there for hours. She eventually died of her injuries. According to my neighbor she was pretty despicable.
May 6th, 2010 at 8:59 am
Michelle,
Like Anna, I knew it was your post right away because of your distinctive style. I loved your poem. It was beautiful. And that dogwood. Amazing. Do you have a photo of it in full bloom? That would be something to see.
I get inspired to write when I see something beautiful in nature, trees, flowers, etc. but most of all the ocean. Like Sandy I can sit for hours watching the ocean. It relaxes me and unleashes my creativity.
Marilyn Baron
May 6th, 2010 at 9:35 am
Michelle–you already know I love the poem. I can’t believe they had to suspend the Dogwood contest–not cool.
As for inspiration, it comes from odd places and nags at me until I do something about it. I’ve mentioned before that my first novel (It-That-Shall-Not-See-The-Light-Of-Day) was inspired by a trip to the Bird Cage Theater in Tombstone. An element in my Master’s novel is inspired in some speculation my mom and I had about some skeletons in the family closet. Beulah Land came from wondering what would happen if some poor unfortunate soul was saddled with the name Beulah Land but wasn’t really able to live up to it? Who could, really?
Of course, when it comes to poetry, you’re talking to the girl who wrote a ghazail about potty training, so there you go–not so good with the intense description, more of an Ogden Nash/Dorothy Parker fan.
Thanks for sharing your inspiration and watch out for the ghost of that landlady. She might lock YOU out the next time you leave the house at 2 am.
May 6th, 2010 at 11:56 am
I love it, Michelle. I, too, knew this was you immediately. I enjoyed your poem. I love all your poems and the pictures you create with them. You do a really great job of bringing your reader into the stories.
Great job!
Tami
May 6th, 2010 at 12:15 pm
Michelle,
Loved your post, loved your poem and I definitely love that tree!! But to lie beneath it in the night? Do Be Careful!!
May 6th, 2010 at 12:16 pm
Loved your post, Michelle. Pretty gutsy to lay outside that late at night in not such a safe neighborhood – but I bet it was thrilling to be so quiet and alone with your thoughts that way. I’d love to see more pictures of your dogwood, it sounds amazing.
I’m going over to check out your poem right now. Thanks again for your post – I feel like grabbing an old blanket and laying out in my yard for a while today! LOL.
May 6th, 2010 at 1:15 pm
Oh Darcy you totally should! I think having your body connected to the earth and looking up into the sky is the best feeling ever. And you must be barefoot as well!
May 6th, 2010 at 1:18 pm
Maxine – this was your challenge, right? Awesome challenge – thank you for creating it. (and I was careful – luckily it was 2 am and not one person or car came by)
May 6th, 2010 at 1:51 pm
Awesome quote. I find your post very interesting because I have what I only know how to describe as a strong affinity for “place.” It’s like feeling what came before in that spot – only when there was a strong emotion tied to it. There are places I could never linger long enough to lie down in and then there are places that just speak peace to me. Your dogwood sounds like a good spot!
May 6th, 2010 at 6:17 pm
I have that same thing, Debbie. Some times I just have to walk out of or away from a place. My house has a really interesting feel and I have some stories about that. I should have a PF writing day here!
May 6th, 2010 at 11:59 pm
Michelle, you are a talented lady. What a lovely tribute to the bit of history you own. You made me feel like I’d been to your house and lain on the lawn under your tree with you. One of the best things about living in Atlanta is the dogwoods in springtime. Breathtaking. Please do post a picture of your dogwood in bloom.
I agree with Dianna about the stories in your house. Hope you get to write many of them.
May 7th, 2010 at 5:15 am
2 a.m. is one of my favorite hours of the day to wake up. I don’t like staying up until 2 a.m., the sensation is different. But it is a good time to hear and write. I would apologize for being late, but like your time under the tree there is a time for everything! Thank you for taking our writing to the next level. Don’t sell lemonade… sell the wine.