SIDEWAYS EIGHT PROJECTS

WELCOME HOME: 

POETRY FROM THE PAGE TO THE STAGE

by Poet Jesse James Ziegler 

November 3rd, 2024 at Our Center

According to Oxford

Poetry (noun) : literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature.

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POETRY GLOSSARY

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/education/glossary

PERSONAL WEBSITE

https://linktr.ee/SidewaysEight

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A poet’s work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds,

 to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, 

and stop it going to sleep. 

— Salman Rushdie

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Introduction

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Whether it is the blank page or the empty stage the art form of poetry as a literary method and a spoken word opportunity has always represented a sense of self actualization, therapy, healing, release and community I wouldn’t otherwise have. The potential held in the open space helps us realize many wants and needs. Along the way we find a sense of home wherever we roam. 

Poetry may not be your first love as it is mine. However this workshop was designed for anyone beginning, intermediate or advanced in the art form to use poetry as a tool to help discover your greatest loves through the processes contained within. May everyone who engages with this material in a bravely vulnerable and courageously honest way grow from it and improve upon their self love as well. 

Through practical exercise and free form writing we will collectively build our way up to personal enlightenment and public sharing. It is my deepest hope that the extended workshop held within these walls acts as a safe and open space to dismantle the walls and boxes that ensnare us on the way to true freedom, love and a sense of belonging. 

JJZ

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I Statement Sonnets

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I am from_______

I am of _______

I love_______

I am inspired by_______

I am intrigued by_______

I am afraid of _______

I am in awe of _______

I respect _______

I am sad because _______

I laugh at _______

I am moved by  _______

I am brought to tears by _______

I am excited by _______

I look forward to _______

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Forms of Poetry 

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Sonnet – This very old form of poetry was made famous by none other than William Shakespeare, but the sonnet actually originated in 13th century Italy where it was perfected by the poet Petrarch. The word ‘sonnet’ is derived from the Italian word ‘sonnetto’ which means ‘little song’. Traditionally, sonnets are made up of 14 lines and usually deal with love. As a rule, Petrarchan (Italian) sonnets follow an ABBA ABBA CDE CDE rhyme scheme, whereas Shakespearean (English) sonnets are typically ABAB CDCD EFEF GG. But of course, rules are made to be broken!

Haiku – unrhymed poetic form consisting of 17 syllables arranged in three lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables respectively. The haiku first emerged in Japanese literature during the 17th century, as a terse reaction to elaborate poetic traditions, though it did not become known by the name haiku until the 19th century. Haikus don’t have to rhyme and are usually written to evoke a particular mood or instance. So, you can have a lot of fun with them! You may have written or will find yourself writing your own haiku at some point in school, or you can get creative and try it at home, too.

Limerick – Limericks are funny (and sometimes rude!) poems which were made popular by Edward Lear  in the 19th century. They have a set rhyme scheme of AABBA, with lines one, two and five all being longer in length than lines three and four. The last line is often the punchline. Their sound is very distinctive, it’s likely you’ve heard or read one before!

Ode – Odes are one of the most well-known forms of poetry. They tend to serve as a tribute to a subject. This subject can be a person or an inanimate object, and the voice in the poem praises the subject in a ceremonial manner. Odes are short lyric poems, which convey intense emotions, and tend to follow traditional verse structure. They are generally formal in tone. Romantic poet John Keats wrote several odes, including Ode To a Nightingale. 

Elegy – Similarly to odes, elegies are tributes to certain subjects, though in this case that subject is largely a person. These poems reflect on death and loss, and traditionally include a theme of mourning. Sometimes they also include a sense of hope, through themes like redemption and consolation. Elegies are generally written in quatrains and in iambic pentameter, with an ABAB rhyme scheme. These are loose guidelines, and many poets adjust them. There is a strong tradition of poets using the elegy in order to honour and pay respects to their departed literary compatriots, such as in W.H. Auden’s poem In Memory of W. B. Yeats.

Acrostic – Like haikus, you’re likely to encounter acrostic poems at school! But that doesn’t mean they’re boring – in fact, far from it! This type of poetry spells out a name, word, phrase or message with the first letter of each line of the poem. It can rhyme or not, and typically the word spelt out, lays down the theme of the poem. Why not try it with the silliest word you can think of – it can be really fun!

Ballad – The ballad is another old and traditional form of poetry that typically tells a dramatic or emotional story. They came from Europe in the late Middle Ages and were initially passed down from one generation to another, and often with music. Ballads do have a set form; they are typically four lines (quatrain) and have a rhyme scheme of ABAB or ABCB. However, this form is looser than others so can be modified to suit a writer’s (that’s you!) needs. Most modern pop songs you hear nowadays can be referred to as ballads!

Sestina – A complex French verse form, usually unrhymed, consisting of six stanzas of six lines each and a three-line envoi. The end words of the first stanza are repeated in a different order as end words in each of the subsequent five stanzas; the closing envoi contains all six words, two per line, placed in the middle and at the end of the three lines. The patterns of word repetition are as follows, with each number representing the final word of a line, and each row of numbers representing a stanza:

       1 2 3 4 5 6

               6 1 5 2 4 3

       3 6 4 1 2 5

       5 3 2 6 1 4

       4 5 1 3 6 2

       2 4 6 5 3 1

       (6 2) (1 4) (5 3)

Cinquan – A cinquain is a five-line poem consisting of twenty-two syllables: two in the first line, then four, then six, then eight, and then two syllables again in the last line. These are deceptively simple poems with a lovely musicality that make the writer think hard about the perfect word choices.

Pantoum – The pantoum is a poem of any length, composed of four-line stanzas in which the second and fourth lines of each stanza serve as the first and third lines of the next stanza. The last line of a pantoum is often the same as the first.

Villanelle – Villanelles (yes, this really is a type of poem, not just the name of one of the main characters in the TV show Killing Eve) are a little stricter and more complicated in form. They tend to have a fluid, almost lyrical feel to them, as they use lots of repeating lines. Villanelles consist of nineteen lines, in the form of five tercets and a closing quatrain, and they have a very specific rhyme scheme. The tercets follow the rhyme scheme ABA, while the quatrain’s rhyme scheme is ABAA. The first line repeats in lines 6, 12, and 18 of the poem, while the third line repeats in lines 9, 15, and 19. These repeated lines need to be signifcant and well-crafted as they occur so frequently. Villanelles often describe obsessions and intense subject matters. Well regarded examples include Sylvia Plath’s Mad Girl’s Love Song and Dylan Thomas’ Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night. 

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“The writer Philip Pullman once said

“Poetry is not a fancy way of giving you information.

It’s an incantation.

It is actually a magical spell

It changes things. It changes you

I come to you in the midst of the fires of hate with a sincere belief that we can be forged into something more beautiful on the other side

That doesn’t make me an optimist

It makes me a poet and to be a poet is to resurrect dead things like hope.

To be a poet is to be an ambassador for humanity in a society with an allergic reaction to itself

To be a poet is to notice the quiet magic that sustains life.

Is to tune each word to the hum of it.

Find majesty and magnificence in the muck

Poetry is not merely a genre of literature.

It is a mode of living:

Something we can all do if we allow ourselves to be beautiful.

So won’t you please allow yourself to be beautiful tonight.”

— Alok Vaid Menon

American writer and performer

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High Five

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What is sacred to you?

What is worth living for?

What is worth dying for?

Who is your real life super hero?

What makes you happy?

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“I’d cut my soul into a million different pieces just to form a constellation to light your way home. I’d write love poems to the parts of yourself you can’t stand. I’d stand in the shadows of your heart and tell you I’m not afraid of your dark.”

— Andrea Gibson

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Big Questions 

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What’s the best advice you’ve ever received?

What’s the worst advice you’ve ever received?

What is something you used to value that you no longer value?

What is something you didn’t value before which you highly value now?

How would you define your current purpose?

If you could create one law that everyone in the world had to follow, what would it be?

What is the most meaningful thing for you to share with a friend?

What is the most traumatic experience you’ve ever had in your life? And, how does the residue of that experience show up in your present?

How are you able to share the expression of your beliefs with others?

What brings you joy?

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“Your heart will fix itself. It’s your mind you need to worry about. Your mind where you locked the memories, your mind where you have kept pieces of the ones that hurt you, that still cut through you like shards of glass. Your mind will keep you up at night, make you cry, destroy you over and over again. You need to convince your mind that it has to let go…because your heart already knows how to heal.”

— Nikita Gill

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Memories

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Describe your earliest memory of joy.

Describe your earliest memory of pain. 

Describe your favorite spot in the world using all five senses. 

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I have these stories with me. The hard part was about reflecting on my feelings, not my experience. There are two parts to any story, the experience and the feelings. The emotions that come with this experience. And this is what poetry is to me.

—- Mosab Abu Toha

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Calendar Considerations 

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Days of remembrance, mourning, grief, loss, and power listed in chronological order across the year. Celebrate the triumphant ones. Lean into and replace the somber ones. Learn from the destructive ones. Take power back over the darkest ones.

January:

February:

March:

April:

May:

June:

July:

August:

September:

October:

November:

December:

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Personal Questions

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What’s the story behind your name?

What’s your favorite thing you’ve ever done on your birthday?

What’s the best gift you’ve ever received?

What’s your favorite day of the year?

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Rank the seasons from 1 to 4. One being your favorite. 4 being your least favorite. 

1.

2.

3.

4.

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Rank your five favorite colors in order.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

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Not So Random

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Heads or Tails?

Odd or Even?

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Prompts 

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Write about returning to a home that is no longer yours. (Megan Falley)

Write a poem in which you give your memories away to the thrift store. Which memories no longer “fit” you but you think someone else might wear? Which memories do you donate but really should have just thrown in the trash? (Ollie Schminkey)

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Environmental Considerations 

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Inside V. Outside 

Sounds

Lighting

Temperature 

Body position 

Bodily Movement

Time of day

Rituals

Food and Liquids

Sleep/Rest

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Write all the time, and read more than you write. I see writing and reading as a conversation. As a writer, if you’re only doing one, you’re only getting half of a conversation which is never the full story. If you’re only reading it’s as if you’re only listening to others in conversation while never taking part in it. If you’re only writing it’s as if you’re talking to yourself in the mirror all of the time. You must be doing both all of the time in order to get better. Doing something a lot is the only way you get better at something. Inspiration is great when it comes, but discipline is always there. So you must always be disciplined on the way to inspiration.

— Dr. Javon Johnson 

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Suggested Further Reading

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WE HEAL TOGETHER

Rituals and Pratices For Building Community and Connection

by Michelle Cassandra Johnson

FINDING REFUGE

Heart Work for Healing Collective Grief

by Michelle Cassandra Johnson

POETRY THERAPY

Therapy and Practice

by Nicholas Mazza 

BIBLIO / POETRY THERAPY

The Interactive Process: A Handbook

by Arleen McCarty Hynes and

Mary Hynes-Berry

WORDS FROM A THERAPIST

When Poetry Meets Therapy

by Sahara Omar, MA, MFTC

BEARING THE UNBEARABLE

Love, Loss and the Heartbreaking Path of Grief

by Joanne Cacciatore, PhD

POETRY AS PERFORMANCE

Homer and Beyond

by Gregory Nagy

BLUEPRINTS

Bringing Poetry into Communities

Edited by Katharine Coles

WRITE A POEM, SAVE YOUR LIFE

A Guide for Teens, Teachers, and Writers of All Ages

by Meredith Heller

POETRY EVERYWHERE

Teaching Poetry Writing in School and in the Community

by Jack Collin and Sheryl Noethe

OUTSPOKEN!

How to Improve Writing and Speaking Skills Through Poetry Performance 

by Sara Holbrook & Michael Salinger

POETRY WILL SAVE YOUR LIFE

A Memoir

by Jill Bialosky

POETRY THERAPY

The Use of Poetry in the Treatment of Emotional Disorders

Edited by Jack J. Leedy, MD

POETRY AS SPIRITUAL PRACTICE

Reading, Writing, and Using Poetry in Your Daily Rituals, Aspirations, and Intentions

by Robert McDowell

THE WORKING POET

75 Writing Exercises and a Poetry Anthology

Edited by Scott Minar 

IN THE PALM OF YOUR HAND

The Poet’s Portable Workshop

A Lively and Illuminating Guide for the Practicing Poet

by Steve Kowit

THE PRACTICE OF POETRY

Writing Exercises from Poets Who Teach

Edited by Robin Behn & Chase Twichell

SPIRIT, RHYTHM, AND STORY

Community Building and Healing Through Song

by Terence Elliott

WINGBEATS: 

Exercises & Practice in Poetry

Edited by Scott Wiggerman & David Meischen

THE ART OF GATHERING

How We Meet and Why it Matters

by Priya Parker

THE CREATIVE ACT: A WAY OF BEING

by Rick Rubin

THE HEALING POWER OF POETRY

by Dr. Smiley Blanton

Epigraph:

“I DON’T PRETEND WE HAVE ALL THE ANSWERS. BUT THE QUESTIONS ARE CERTAINLY WORTH THINKING ABOUT.”

— ARTHUR C. CLARKE

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Until

Let’s pretend for a moment

that significant arts integration 

in schools, at early ages 

and along the path of upbringing 

doesn’t have countless benefits

proven extensively 

in the short and long term

across the board.

Let’s also pretend those benefits

don’t include drastic improvements 

in confidence, creativity

ability to learn, critical thinking, 

decision making, problem solving,

fewer disciplinary infractions and more school engagement.

Let’s further pretend

for the sake of argument and

entertainment value

there wouldn’t be additional improvements 

across three levels of skills:

fine motor, language and social 

joining forces with empathy,

focus and aesthetic appreciation.

Let’s pretend, shall we?

Everyone has a storyteller inside them somewhere.

Let’s make believe we live in a world

where we can set all of those things aside.

Let’s look at the other side.

When are you going to get a real job?

The arts don’t change anything.

They don’t make a significant difference.

The arts aren’t needed to sustain life.

They aren’t necessary for our existence.

They don’t matter.

Some may dismissively say the arts 

are for those with access to

opulence and affluence

rather than seeing them for the 

sustenance they are 

in meeting

basic wants for all

Some may flippantly remark the arts

are a side hobby for those who embody

luxury and privilege 

as opposed to a lifeline in providing

basic needs for all

Some may have a vision of the arts

as being representative of

grandeur and splendor only

rather than the basic building blocks

of everyday life as well

Perhaps people don’t think about artistry

the way they ought to

Until

Until the city walls feel like they’re closing in

yet the paintings on the walls of the museum rekindle our spirit

Until the single Dad, passed up for the well deserved promotion at work finds the strength at his daughter’s ballet recital that night to keep fighting the good fight

when he’s watching what matters most

Until the parents have to bury their own child as a result of senseless violence and need to escape together from the ills of adulthood into Mahler’s 9th symphony at the local performing arts venue

Until the recent widow uncovers a sense of community within the crochet club at the local center

Until the heart is shattered, in dire need of repair, and a stand up comedian becomes the surgeon we most needed

Until the events of the day knock the wind out of us and a magician’s slight of hand trick helps us feel lighter than air again

Until the small child whose school, home and hospital are no longer, uses the sooty oil from a blown out small engine as ink, and one of the legion of empty shells responsible as a canvas to sketch their idea of paradise, determined to live it out line by fractured line rather than become one of the monsters who did this. 

Until our partner cheats on us and runs out on responsibility and a touring light show helps restore our sense of self, bringing color back into our world

Until the headlines overwhelm us 

and our inspired tattoos renew us

Until we are at the brink of utter exhaustion

from working multiple jobs

none of which offers sufficient benefits

and wood working tutorials

or a tap dance class

or a burlesque show

or making a collage for a friend’s birthday

gives us the release to get through

our day

Until caregivers and protectors discover new levels of toleration and respect for the fiercely dressed artists volunteering to read to children and their parents at the local library. Causing everyone’s hearts and minds to open wider than previously thought possible. 

Until the dwelling place is incinerated in a wildfire and we find an irreplaceable photograph miraculously untouched in the ashes

Until our furry and feathered friends’ batteries run out and a recessed outline of how they stood in our lives is set in a glazed ceramics display. A constant reminder of the permanent imprint upon our heart. Perhaps gone, but never forgotten. 

Until those closest to us share their story of being abused and we’re able to sit with them in silence gazing upon sculptures formed by positive touch 

until the marble and our hearts both soften

Until the unhoused individual sitting curbside contemplating intentionally losing a game of chicken with an oncoming train notices the innocent expression on one of the faces in the nearby mural and decides against it.

Until the soldier returns from active duty in a war zone to a place which formerly felt like home to find a poetry therapy group and begins to find their bearings again through creative writing catharsis.

Until the teachers, counselors, coaches, therapists, pastors and health care providers take in the perfect play or a fantastic film and take on their tasks more fully restored than the day before.

A life rich in art for everyone is

like continuously opening Christmas presents or finally finding the last Easter egg after a long search

A life rich in art for everyone helps aid

us collectively to

Liven up the languid

Ignite the intention

Vibe with the volatility 

Embrace the enigmatic

Collaborate with the conflict

Rescue the remedy

Exercise at elevation 

Acknowledge activism

Testify to the truth

Investigate the imagination 

Verify the viable 

Energize eccentricity 

Let go of loss

Yearn for out yonder 

The arts teach us

Goodness, mercy and kindness often come from unpredictable places

The arts show us

A candle flickering in the darkness that is the lonely executioner of night

can be enough to light our way home

They help our bodies to know

When the wounds of our falls are still fresh we are better able to swiftly rise

and finish the race strong 

They had us staying up later and later

to watch just one more episode

during the pandemic.

They have us sitting in our cars 

in our driveways

after the engines have been quieted

to finish the song playing

before we go inside after a long day

They have strangers

seated in the same restaurant as each other

showing their excitement 

for someone celebrating 

another trip around the sun

by singing in unison 

a song we all know

Being an artist isn’t just a real job.

It’s the most real job I can imagine,

and the most needed job I can think of.

The job of being better human beings.

Everything matters.

See we as artists may have  a difficult time

in a corporatist climate making a living

but we have an easy time 

making life more worth living

for everyone whose lives we touch

including our own

Until we finally see the light

{Written for DINNER ON THE BRIDGE 10/5/24 A Sierra Arts Foundation Fundraiser}

How do you heal many years 

within a single evening?

Wipe away a sunken fallen heart’s tears

who thought it wasn’t done grieving.

Getaway car outside grinding gears

winds up not wanting to be leaving

I left the intimate gathering

doing cartwheels in my head

and backflips in my heart

already searching how the next piece

would start

The next verses were at Gary’s

and the Nevada Club’s Gold Country art

after a quick stop by the car

everyone holding three more decades

on their chart

although these moments we are given 

freeze time at least in part

I’ve earned these lines on my face

same as I’ve earned the ones on the page

this life is filled with grit and grace

while bending bars to the cage 

Sometimes we lock ourselves away for far too long

forgetting there’s an entire world outside

then a kind stranger shows us where we might have gone wrong 

bursting the flood gates open wide

They hand us the key

in a word, a gesture or a phrase

for us to finally see

in the good ole days

and present praise

how things might actually be

Our eyes become opened wide

matching the hearts thumping in our chest

some like me may have openly cried 

others felt overwhelmingly blessed

a few who may have tried to hide

as simple visitors quickly became guests

burdens gave way to singing in unison at night

weary souls finally finding rest

For an evening we were young again

the entire universe of infinite possibilities 

laid out before us

swapping stories remembering when

part of something bigger than ourselves

flowing with the harmony in a chorus

From near and far we arrived

seeking answers to our pleas

We could see a thousand different permutations of our lives

each flickering as candles in a sierra foothills breeze

finding our way home with the version that survived 

and embraces which gave us 

a spirit squeeze and much needed ease 

the sea of faces are older and more wise

while lasting connection brought me to my knees

Emotions jumbled innermost gifted

holding common ground

Humbled and uplifted, once lost yet again found

Make sure to leave plenty of room for life to move you and surprise you

Certain to open space as well for it to awe you and prove you wrong,

Expectations may fall short but also be exceeded when they try to

It hasn’t been too little time since they saw you, it’s been far too long.

Close your eyes 

You can do this

The older you get

the more you need to remember

Of course you can’t keep them closed

forever

If you’re going to continue reading this

from a dusty page in your book

mouthing the words as you hum along

However

You can keep your lids locked

and imagine all you want

If someone else is reading this to you 

All you have to do is close your eyes

and it all comes flooding back

How it was

to be read to as a child

and imagine along the way

nearly falling asleep

yet never more awake

ankles brushing on the low carpet

gathered in a large circle

fiddling with shoelaces

scratching knees

Occasionally staring out the nearby window

Fidgety during the scary parts

Completely still during the exciting ones

anticipating the next steps

captivated 

Perhaps you’ve had the same experience that I’ve had

The administration pulling the ole Switcharoo at the last minute

and sending in a substitute 

to supplement story time

Perhaps they were even left good instructions 

as to where the class was at in the text

and they were even able to pick up

right where you had left off

Perhaps you were missing the voice 

which had first helped you find your own

Perhaps you appreciated the new voice

because it helped you think of the whole story in a brand new light

Perhaps both

Searches were met with findings

and more questions

Longings were met with forms of comfort

you never knew you always needed

and new desires

you never knew you always had 

Looking around the room 

to witness others reactions

Frozen frustration with the cliffhangers

Collective jubilation releasing in triumphs

For now the stories we’re read

aren’t from our favorite teachers

sitting at the centers of our circles

rather reporters seated behind desks

sharing stories which make us want

to close our eyes for different reasons

to labor under the illusion

they never existed in the first place

which takes a far stronger imagination 

than even our most creative children

seem to be capable of

Our souls will not accept these substitutes

So we are left desperately folding into ourselves 

begging the universe for new stories

for different ones

those that empower us to hold fast

those that encourage us to ride on

those that remind us how to play

and help us to patiently wait for the finale 

which we all believe will be worth the delay

hoping in those we stand by

actively listening and feeling deeply

to see the delight in each other’s faces

when all of our innermost questions 

are finally answered 

and it all makes sense in the end.