Poet, Interrupted

Have you ever been on the verge of something brilliant when you were suddenly interrupted? In a different vein, have you ever read a story and felt like, between the lines, you gained insight into current events in the writer’s life?

A few weeks ago my mom was here. With her she brought a small box which held random papers and things from long ago that belonged to me. To be honest, I’ll get rid of most of it, but I did happen upon something a little different than the other forgotten-significance artifacts. My highly-honed handwriting analysis skills tell me that I penned this around age five or six. I’ve had a request for more poetry; I hope this gives some intellectual satisfaction.
(Translation: A Poem Written by Alison Raymond
The world so beautiful
and the flowers are growing
The End.)

Can’t a writer catch a break? Speaking of breaks, I hope everyone has a good weekend.

The Eyes Have It

This is what you’ve been waiting for: After a much-debated contest, (drumroll) “The Eye of the Tiger” has emerged as the champ of the Best 80s Song poll. Rest assured that I will notify and congratulate Survivor immediately.

Some disagreement did surface during this intense debate, however. Some of you suggested that perhaps the best 80s songs didn’t have a chance because they weren’t listed. Well, here’s your chance!

Tell me what songs you DO think should’ve been on the list. …And as much as you might be tempted, don’t try to suggest anything by Menudo, please. While you’re thinking please check out the new poll, below and left.

There was some poetry

Good morning, all! To start off the week, here is some poetry from a very young, teenage Alison Raymond. The assignment in class (Kasey and Courtney, remember Mrs. Hamilton?) was to pattern a free-verse poem after Walt Whitman’s “There was a Child went Forth.” Walt Whitman’s personal life doesn’t make me a fan, but his writing style wasn’t too shabby. Anyway, the first four lines had to be verbatim from his; the rest is mine. Our class was told that the poem was intended to reflect the writer’s memories/images/influences up until that point in life.

There was a child went forth every day,

And the first object she look’d upon, that object she became,

And that object became a part of her for the day or a certain part of the day,

Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.

Curious kittens catching butterflies,

Fingers feeling the cool grass while cloud-gazing,

The tender lullaby with the hand stroking the hair,

Carefree shouts bouncing off pavement,

The Pop! of the baseball as it sails up to the sun,

The scrape of tar-chalk on sun-baked sidewalks,

And big people and big pews,

Friendly greetings weaving a warm cocoon of security,

These things became a part of her.

The groans of pain emitted from workers moving furniture,

The tape that screeches as it seals boxes shut,

And the sad tears that fall during the last glance around the barren house;

Each was saved and treasured in her heart.

Shy glances around rooms full of strangers,

The first bashful conversations,

Then secrets gigglingly whispered among friends,

The sporadic crackle of the campfire piercing the cool night’s silence,

The myriad of voices singing praise skyward,

The melodic jibber of the Hispanic children,

And the dusty, bumpy roads,

The winkling of stars against the spread of black velvet,

And the rhythmic, whispering lap of the waves tickling the shore,

The cool water over their feet as their toes sink cozily in the sand,

All these things became part of her when she closed her eyes and

determined to absorb every magnificent, minute detail.


Apparently I’ve now joined the 21st century. At times I’ve read the first posts on others’ blogs, and many of them say something along the lines of what I’m about to say: I never thought I’d set up a blog. I feel kind of sheepish asking others to humor me by visiting it.

Nonetheless, here it is…we’ll see what this evolves into. I’ll post on a variety of things that catch my attention. If they catch your attention, too, I really hope you’ll comment. (Then maybe I won’t feel quite as sheepish!) And between you and me, I’m also using this to challenge myself to dust off my writing habit (poetry, etc.). At times some of those writings may appear here as well. For now, thanks for visiting, and I hope you check back soon!

P.S.: I hope you take a second to weigh in on my (ahem) purely scientific poll on the left.