Emily Dickinson an American Muse of the Past

Dear Readers,
My interest in Emily Dickinson goes back to when, I was about ten years old and my mother bought me a book of Dickinson's poems. I was a voracious reader and eagerly read the book. I remember being interested in her life, specifically, that she was a recluse but I didn't understand her poetry. As an adult, I have had a second chance to read and actually understand Dickinson's poems through the guidance of my teachers. I find Dickinson's poems to be mysterious and very abstract. Some of them, like "A Narrow Fellow in the Grass" are pretty straight forward but others like "My Life Stood-a Loaded Gun" have layers of meaning having to do with her life and there is a religious allusion thrown in as well. Readers, I have posted the poems, "Little Green Snake" and "Death Stood Over My Bed", which were inspired by Dickinson's poetry on this blogsite.

Little Green Snake

After you died,
I found you
bloody in the grass.

I mourned,
little green snake.

I held your cold body in my hands,
my fingers touched,
the bumps of your scales,
felt the softness of your belly.

How I wish,
you would look at me
with your round black eyes.

Dear Reader:
This poem was inspired by Emily Dickinson's poem, "A Narrow Fellow in the Grass." In her poem Emily write about a young boy coming upon a snake in the grass, that at first fascinates him and then frightens him. I studied this poem in on of my literature classes. This poem brought back memories from when I was nine years old. My family and I were living in a rented house in Orangeville, California, a suburb of Sacramento. I don't remember when I learned that green garter snakes are harmless snakes but I regarded them with a fascination that I would have given to butterflies or frogs. This poem is based on my literal memory of finding and feeling sad for a little dead garter snake.

Death Stood Over My Bed

When I was eight
I dreamt about death
standing over my bed.
A skeleton
Draped in a white veil,
When I was nine
It almost happened.
I was sick for a year
I slept-
My mother was angry-
And then she cried.
If I died
what would become of me?
Would I become a vampire?
Or a ghost?
Haunting my mother-
Telling her that I loved her
And that I was sorry-

Manifesto for Others On-Line Work

Dear Readers,

Copyright issues have been an issue in this country (and I'm sure others) since the invention of the printing press and continue on into the twenty-first century with the Internet. As for myself, I will show respect for the work of others online. I follow certain guidelines. The guide lines that I follow are simple, if I use a source (in an essay or presentation) whether it is print, images, music or video, I give credit to the sources that I have borrowed from.

In the article “Technorealism” (http://english.boisestate.edu/tpeele/nfwfourohone/Digital%20Rhetoric%20Readings/technorealism.pdf ) the authors in their “Principles of Techorealism” discuss the importance of “protecting intellectual property.” I am a believer in citing sources, if I find someone’s written work on line, and I want to incorporate it into an essay, I will cite them as the author of the idea. I recently found information on someone’s blog-site that was perfect for an essay that I was working on, and used and cited it (my instructor was even impressed with the quote that I used). Another example of me citing someone else’s work is from my recent work of putting up my blog-site. On my blog-site, I have two pictures up and I have cited where these pictures came from. Copyright issues have been an issue in this country (and I’m sure others) since the invention of the printing press and continue on into the twenty-first century.
I like the idea that “Creative Commons”(http://www.educause.edu/ir/library/pdf/ELI7023.pdf) article proposes, that we need a “middle-ground” for copyright laws. The philosophy that the “Creative Commons” article proposes that “free exchange of knowledge is fundamental to the common good…” I am going to use a “creative commons” license for my creative writing that I’ve posted online. I like the idea of sharing my work with others and if someone wants to spin an idea out of something that I’ve written, that would make me happy. Which brings me in agreement with the “Changing Copyright” essay by Negativland (http://www.negativland.com/riaa/tenets.html). In “Negativland’s Tenets of Free Appropriation” it states that “The urge to make one thing out of other things is an entirely traditional, socially healthy, and artistically valid impulse…” Like I said earlier it would make me happy if after reading one of my poems, someone was inspired to spin off of one of my ideas or words and created their own writing.

Webs

Spiders sing lullabies to their prey against the silence of the night-

When I was eight my great grandmother crochet a black web of a
shawl for me.

Webbed patterns on water, remind me of
broken mirrors and how promises made in childhood
shatter easily.

Spiders hide in the sweet smell of words and flowers

Don't stand in the dark shadows of trees,
to see the last rays of sunlight.

Running in the Early Morning Light

The god Apollo wreathed in light,
beckons me back to my tabernacle of clay each morning,
chuckling, he says to me, "Put on they running shoes,
glorious creation of mother earth."
I rub my eyes- my head still feels sleepy as I head out the door,
but my feet are faithful guides that know the way to the trails.

The moon is headed west on its journey-
Trees-the old wise ones, wait, meditating silently-
The brook mummers to itself, as it bumps and bubbles among the rocks-
Three small blackbirds balance themselves on the triangle shape of a sign,
they too are awaiting the ascension of Apollo's temple in the East.

My feet make soft sounds on the pavement.

Gigantic power-lines, hum, crackle and pop as I pass under them.
A fox hears my approach and turns its head to say hello-
It is too early for prairie dogs, they lie dreaming in their burrows.

Sapphires and Rubies

(Copy of American Gothic is from Gabriele Lusser Rico's book Writing the Natural Way)

My brother paints-

I am posing as a common wife-
a farmers wife
I too am a painter
I do not know this man I stand beside-

His eyes are hard and determined-
His pitchfork says, I rise early, work hard

The farmer's passion is
domination of his house, land, wife, children-

I long for my paint brush-
my sapphires and rubies

This apron I wear says, I will bake him bread, clean his clothes and feed his chickens-

And in the evening when he sets his pitchfork down,
his grim mouth will say-
You are my woman

My fingers twitch-
I am going to live in Paris next year.

Dear Readers,
I love this poem. It explores the possibilities of women as independent artists. I find myself often pondering the question of why there aren't more women writers and painters. I wrote Sapphires and Rubies about ten years ago, using an exercise out of Gabriele Lusser Rico's book "Writing the Natural Way." I used the picture "American Gothic" and wrote out lists of words that I associated with this picture.
The list of words might have looked something like this:
farmer:
land
pitch-fork
hay
cattle
hard work

farmer's wife:
apron
chickens
children
laundry
cooking meals

As I work the word list, something will click inside of me (a light bulb moment). The click might express itself as an idea, picture or even a key word that the rest of the poem will be built around.