Presentation on theme: "Poetry Writing Lesson. Not always sure what things called sins may be, I am sure of one sin I have done. It was years ago, and I was a boy, I lay in the."— Presentation transcript:
Not always sure what things called sins may be, I am sure of one sin I have done. It was years ago, and I was a boy, I lay in the frostflowers with a gun, The air ran blue as the flowers, I held my breath, Two birds on golden legs slim as dream things Ran like quicksilver on the golden sand, My gun went off, they ran with broken wings Into the sea, I ran to fetch them in, But they swam with their heads high out to sea, They cried like two sorrowful high flutes, With jagged ivory bones where wings should be. For days I heard them when I walked that headland Crying out to their kind in the blue, The other plovers were going over south On silver wings leaving these broken two. The cries went out one day; but I still hear them Over all the sounds of sorrow in war or peace I ever have heard, time cannot drown them, Those slender flutes of sorrow never cease. Two airy things forever denied the air! I never knew how their lives at last were spilt, But I have hoped for years all that is wild, Airy, and beautiful will forgive my guilt.
Not always sure what things called sins may be, I am sure of one sin I have done. It was not a single incident, but a series of events, All involving my sister, Who eventually lost her battle with drug addiction. Two siblings, raised in the same household, But, oh, so different. So different. It didn’t start that way, of course. We were close before the drift, She slowly pulled away from me, from us, Each year, a little farther away from our childhood Until the relationship that was, wasn’t. Walking through stores, at ballgames, in restaurants, I see young brothers and sisters laughing, playing, talking, It makes me happy and sad. I silently wish them well, knowing how things can turn. Looking back, I wonder if I should have been kinder, Whether I should have put my anger aside. My sadness has lessened, but it never disappears. I could have offered more love. I should have offered more love. Too late now. But I have hoped for years, That my sister, Cathy, forgives my guilt.
1. Make a list of things you regret. 2. Choose one item from your list and begin writing. You might begin with prose and turn it into a poem. Or you might reflect via a poem right from the start. 3. Finish a poem entitled “Forgive My Guilt”