STRING ALONGS: Poetry, Me?

I just got an email from Shake Rag Alley in Mineral Point advertising new classes. One of the classes that caught my eye was this one:MEETING THE MUSE: POETRY WRITING

Cynthia Gallaher Saturday, June 28, 20089am—3pm
Tap your inner muse during a hands-on poetry writing workshop with poet Cynthia Gallaher. Explore three major forms of poetry: narrative (tells a story), lyric (praises or analyzes a person, place or object) and dramatic (emphasizes character and performance elements). Learn how to transform raw emotions into vivid, original images. By using personal preferences, memories and pictures as inspiration, you’ll create a sheaf of short, new poems during the workshop. For beginner through advanced level writers.

Also:

JOURNAL WRITING WITH A TWIST

Cynthia Gallaher Sunday, June 29, 20089am—3pm
Join Cynthia Gallaher in a hands-on workshop to experiment with various types of journal writing. Whether you are trying to find ways to preserve family history, to write your own personal memoirs, to work through a diet, marriage plans or a career change, to transform travel experiences into unforgettable passages, or simply to find a new route to creative or emotional release, you can realize it through journaling. Also learn how to set up an online blog. Special feature: introduction to Japanese haibun, a mix of journal writing and haiku poetry; and naikan, a method joining gratitude and meditation. Also attend “Meeting the Muse: Poetry Writing” on Saturday and receive a special rate.

I think that I have been journal-ing here on The String Alongs for some time with varying degrees of success. Sometimes I even manage to be funny or strike a chord with people, I hope.

What is really funny though is thinking I would be able to write poetry. I don't even like to read it. Well, that isn't quite true. I love big epic poems like the Rime of the Ancient Mariner or The Cremation of Sam McGee.

And you should see my refrigerator. We have lots of magnetic poetry including the Shakespearean version. I find that most of the lines of poetry on the fridge are written by the men in this house. I just hope my mother never looks too closely at what is rhymed there as she doesn't have much of a sense of humor about young man grossness. I feel that you have to take most of it with a grain of salt-the burps and farts, the need to take your pants off the minute you walk in the house-you know the type of thing I refer to.