Showing posts with label National Poetry Month. Show all posts
Showing posts with label National Poetry Month. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Writing Wednesday

Someone once asked me, "Why do you right?"
I sat there for a minute thinking about her question.
She said, "I think it is because you don't want people to forget about the past."

That is true for a lot of what I write. I write about the past. I am trying to write my family history, but I keep getting sidetracked. My first visit to a writing group was inspired by my wanting to get help with  a Picture Book manuscript I had written about my experiences of picking berries with my grandmother and cousin. I haven't got that story right. . .  yet. Maybe I should go back to that manuscript and try again.

When I write my poems and my stories, I put onto paper my memories, so they will not be forgotten.
I hope when I do this, I will write them in such a way that other people will also get enjoyment out of them also.

I guess that is the secret to writing --- we need to write our stories so interesting and unique that other people will enjoy them. 

What about you? Why do you write? What do you think the secret to writing is?

April is National Poetry Month, below is a poem I wrote about my past.
I hope you enjoy it.


Recipe for Warm Memories

Our ancestors taught us
To cook. They passed down
Their food customs
To their children.

Grandma rolled each thin layer
Of her applesauce stack cake.
She patted the left over dough
Into sweet cookies.

She creamed the peas
Just right, made holiday pies,
And baked bread to eat
With each meal.

Mom taught me how
To make soft, fluffy dumplings
And to beat the fudge
Until it was glossy.

My aunts fried skillets
Full of golden apples
And cooked welcoming
Sunday dinners.

They tilled the land and
Harvested the crops.
Their busy hands preserved
The food for the winter.

The kids washed the jars for
Green beans, tomatoes,
Pickles, chow chow,
And sausage balls.

Blackberry jams and jellies
Won blue ribbons and proudly
Stood by the apple butter
On the cool cellar shelves.

Our ancestors taught us
To cook. Their memories
Keep us warm on
Cold winter days.

Happy Writing!