Tuesday, December 11, 2012

A Basket Full of Everything

Through the last two Masters classes I've taken, I have cultivated and refined some of my writing by attempting genres from which I previously steered clear. I made some small leaps over the course of my studies but I don't know that I will ever be finished learning. I will never be a complete writer. I will never be satisfied and I may never consider myself truly... a writer. But the last eight weeks have reminded me how much I love to write and what a big part of my life writing has been. This time focused on writing rekindled the flame between writing and me.

One of my final projects included a poem. Here it is:

The weaver maps the pattern 
The strips perfectly in place 
Evenly adjusting every single piece 
Row, space, row, space, row, space

Upsetting the outside spokes 
The edges are neatly bent 
Disjointing the perfection 
With planning and intent

Carefully threading in and out
Each corner soon turns round 
Packing down to close the gaps 
And make the structure sound

The top is trimmed and tucked 
The rim is put in place
A handle for the carrying 
Of the beautiful new base

Now the maker fills it up 
With future seeds to sow 
And a heritage of pride 
Gifts and treasures overflow

The native gift of music 
English wit and Irish fire
A bit of German stubbornness 
With perseverant heart’s desire

Placed in the woven vessel 
Much to offer, much to bring
A perfect blend of my two families 
I am a basket full of everything 

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