Two Collective Lists

On Thursday afternoon, April 28, 2016, a group of people met at the Tompkins County Public Library to participate in a workshop called "Poetry for the People." We wrote collective list poems and poem/prose inspired by other poets' work. We ended by reading some haiku out loud to each other. We had a very good time! Below you will find two collective lists created by group members. Contributors' names appear at the end.

Poem of Ourselves

I ride my bike as often as I can
I look forward to outdoor summer concerts
I like blue and green and sometimes yellow
I try to find the path that's clear
I might fall short and lose my way
I can't know all the ins and outs
I get  my inspiration from spending time in nature
I am working on a third book of poetry
I have a cat named Mia and a granddaughter named Mia
I am an only child
I am creative and resourceful
I am a grandmother, whose role mode is my grandmother
I am me
I was like that, once
I am yours, forever
I crave silence but often forget to allow it
I sometimes long for a place I couldn't wait to leave
I am a professional secret keeper
I wish I had a magic wand so I could cure the ills of the world
I love to watch out my window and look at nothing, or perhaps the wind blowing the leaves
I am always ready to accept a lunch invitation on the spur of the moment
I hold joy and sadness together inside
I am pushing myself into new and scary places
I play piano, timidly or confidently, depending on the day
I celebrate sin
I celebrate reaching up and reaching under
I celebrate sitting on the ground
I was married once but I'm better now
I was worried once but now I can't seem to remember why
I was lonely once but then I became my own best friend
I try to remain in the present instead of sinking into the past or drifting into the future
I have waited many years for my hair to grow long enough to braid
I may not remember your name right away but I will remember the book I recommended to you more than 20 years ago



The Happiness Poem (inspired by the 19th century Japanese poet, Tachibana Akemi)

Happiness is when you find a tiny flower in bloom under the old dead leaves. Happiness is  when the exact item you want, in just the right color, is on sale and you get the very last one. Happiness is finding the stars under the clouds as they blow away out to sea. Happiness is fresh baked bread, right out of the oven. Happiness is feeling completely at ease. Happiness is receiving that long awaited reply. Happiness is  a T-shirt that fits just right. Happiness is a salad stuffed with greens, cucumbers, onions, olives, and no dressing needed. Happiness is seeing without the aid of glasses. Happiness is the memory of a kiss that sealed a deep and abiding friendship.

Happiness is when you spy your daughters walking around the backyard, and though you notice with a pang that the little one is now the taller of the two, instead you choose to focus on the fact that they are holding hands. Happiness is is hearing your son and daughter deep in conversation, talking and laughing, and ending by saying "I love you," and not because they have to. Happiness is a long soak in a hot bath, a stack of books waiting to be read, receiving real mail addressed in a familiar hand. Happiness is is standing at the edge of Lake Superior while the waves wash up against your legs and you throw your hands up in the September air and you laugh and laugh. Happiness is seeing the face of your baby sister for the first time. Happiness is sitting, staring out the window, notebook and pen close at hand, and having inspiration come along and smack you upside the head with a baseball bat. Happiness is when you finally, finally, do a beautiful assisted arabesque in a dance class and your dance teacher looks over at you and says "Good." Happiness is walking into a bookstore and breathing in the smell of printer-ink, words, and blank notebook pages.

Happiness is playing a piano duet with your teacher and finishing at the same time. Happiness is a fragrant bouquet of peonies from your garden. Happiness is eating a chocolate ice cream sundae at Purity. Happiness is is getting a phone call from your best friend. Happiness is seeing your book in print. Happiness is finding a love note in your lunch bag. Happiness is your knock on the door, asking for cookies and milk. Happiness is seeing your eyes light up and your beautiful smile as you climb up Tuthill Ridge holding a newborn deer in your arms. Happiness is the sun setting in the west, leaving a trail of apricot. Happiness is the smell of coffee perking in the morning and sharing a quiet moment with you.

Happiness is when your old dog follows you with his eyes, whatever you do, and you exchange meaningful looks. Happiness is waking up in your own bed in your own house. Happiness is the white trillium coming back again each spring, in the same spot next to the old shed. Happiness is having jars of food you grew yourself. Happiness is having a full larder. Happiness is looking out a sparkling clean window and seeing the full moon. Happiness is dancing for a long time without stopping. Happiness is teaching children to sing "Zip-a-Dee-Do-Dah." Happiness is a coconut cream pie.  Happiness is a birthday visit from every single family member.

Happiness is when someone other than me washes the dinner dishes. Happiness is practicing the piano and my fingers remember what to do. Happiness is candles lit, tulips in vases, and the family sitting around the table. Happiness is no new drama. Happiness is finding a kindred spirit in an unexpected place. Happiness is when I have enough bold colors to start a quilt. Happiness is when I am the center of someone's universe. Happiness is when I'm in my tent and I can smell the campfire and hear the owls bid me "good night." Happiness is when I'm laughing with my safest friends. Happiness is when I'm in love . . . for now or/and forever. Happiness is sitting in my favorite chair by the window, reading a book I am enjoying, then falling asleep — was it 2 seconds or 20 minutes? — and waking up and continuing with my reading exactly where I left off.

Happiness is when a group of strangers come together to write and after two hours they know each other better, through the stories they have shared.

Workshop participants:

Barbara Kane Lewis
Bill Murphy 
Caroline Gates-Lupton
Julia Ganson
Kathy May
Kim Zimmerman
Laura Gates-Lupton
Patty Little
Paula Twomey
Ruth O'Lill
Zee Zahava

The Leo Sayer Poem, by Stacey Murphy

Their songs spill over the fence
Along with the scent of warm charcoal.
The neighbors from Burma preparing for a feast,
Serenading me
And my rake
And my garden
On a fine April afternoon
Now hip-hop, now rock ballad
My ears yearning to learn the words that are in their own language
And then — a song in English.
Leo Sayer from the early '80s
And we are all singing —
Voices from their yard,
A really strong tenor from across the street,
My own among my weeds,
Even the birds harmonizing —
We raise our collective “Whoa whoa  yay yay”
To the blue sky,
Our hearts soaked in music
Giddy with the promise of warm days to come
So we sing to them —
To our lives,
Our people,
Our universes —
Our hearts so full,
We love them more than we can say.