I am having a hard time putting into words this feeling. This good, fulfilled feeling after a successful Fall Poetry Night. I think magic happens when a poem is read aloud, the words shared become everyone’s words. Your life becomes theirs, and theirs yours. We become a community.
On Saturday, I hosted our state poet laureate, Ava Leavell Haymon. (See a previous post here featuring her poetry.) She came into town in time to have paella downtown at the second annual Spanish Festival. Ava laughs at her new title. She said it has a certain amount of celebrity to it, but in the same way a rare boa constrictor might; Everyone comes to see what it is.
I don’t think that was the case for our audience Saturday night. I had been getting messages on Facebook from a variety of people who wanted to read. I wouldn’t dare say no to anyone who has the courage to read his own poetry aloud. So we had 4 featured authors and 5 readers in open mic. Good thing the food truck man was coming, and a number of friends had brought treats.
Ava took notes as each poet read, and she made a point of speaking to each one with specific comments about their writing. What a gift! When she read her own poetry, she instructed us as well on the forms of her poems. The teacher in her is natural. All weekend we shared stories of teaching poetry. I look forward to trying some of her ideas with my students. (And sharing them here.)
Ava reading at A&E Gallery.
I entertained an angel this weekend, an angel who taught me about opening my ears and my heart to all poets. Ava was still smiling Sunday morning. She told me after all of the traveling and many activities of her new position, the energy of Saturday night had rejuvenated her. I felt she did the same for me and for all who attended and participated in the Fall Poetry Night.
See more Poetry Friday with Diane Mayr at Random Noodling
Ava Leavell Haymon, Louisiana Poet Laureate
“Somewhere, out beyond ideas
of wrongdoing and right-doing,
there is a field.
I will meet you there.” –Rumi
Thus is the epigraph that opens Ava Leavell Haymon’s latest work of poetry, Eldest Daughter. Ava is the most recently appointed Louisiana Poet Laureate, and she is coming to New Iberia next weekend to a Fall Poetry Night. (Fist-arm pump) Yes! If you met Ava, the thing you would remember about her is her laugh, and she laughs often.
Ava’s poetry is masterly crafted, yet easily accessible. Lemony Snicket selected one of Ava’s poems, The Witch has Told You a Story, to feature in his article, All Good Slides Are Slipperyfor Poetry Magazine. Mr. Snicket says that “poetry is like a curvy slide in a playground — an odd object, available to the public — and, as I keep explaining to my local police force, everyone should be able to use it, not just those of a certain age.” I shared this article with my students this week. We wrote our own poems by stealing a line from one or more of the poems in the article. This was a great activity and produced some funny poems. Stay tuned.
Ava has given me permission to share two of her poems with you. This first is from the collection Why the House is Made of Gingerbread. I love this collection. Who would have thought that the classic Hansel and Gretel would have yielded such moving and thoughtful poetry?
THE WITCH HAS TOLD YOU A STORY
You are food, she said.
You are here for me to eat.
Fatten up, and I will
like you better. Your brother will
be first. You must wait your turn.
You must feed him yourself.
You must learn to do it. Take him
eggs with yellow sauce, and muffins,
butter leaking out the crooked break
in the sides. Fried meats
later in the morning and sweets
in a heady parade from the oven.
His vigilance, an ice pick of hunger
pricking his sides, will melt
in the unctuous cream fillings.
He will forget. He will thank you
for it. His little finger stuck every day
through the cracks in the bars
will grow sleek and round,
his hollow face swell
like the moon. He will stop dreaming
the fear in the woods without food.
He will lean toward the mouth
of the oven, the door
that yawns wide every afternoon
to better and better smells.
–Ava Leavell Haymon, all rights reserved
The second poem comes from Ava’s latest work Eldest Daughter. I haven’t read them all yet, but the ones I have are so full! Full of childhood fears, sensibilities, and humor. LSU Press says “she combines the sensory and the spiritual in wild verbal fireworks.” And to hear her read them, you see the fireworks glow in her eyes. She is a delight, and I can’t wait to introduce her to my town.
THE CHILD BORN
with a caul
the child who eats the skin that forms on scalded milk
the child who bites cuticles instead of fingernails
the child who sucks her hair at night
the child who sings in her sleep
the child who does not mind the squeak of blackboard chalk
the child who swallowed a blue bead
the child who will not throw up
the child who refuses to listen
the child with the gristle knob at the arch of her ribs
the child who knows where the matches are
the child who looks too long at her father
the child who likes to spit
the child who looks in the eyes of the dog
the child who sits for hours
the child who sometimes laughs when she’s by herself
the child whose cold hands
the child who eats clay
the child who can look cross-eyed
the child who starts fires
the child who hides in a chinaberry tree
the child who listens
the child who grows quieter and quieter
the child who can be trusted with knives and scissors
the child who never reaches under her bed
the child who goes where no one is
the child who cuts things out
the child who hums little songs no one can recognize
Ava Leavell Haymon, all rights reserved
Fall Poetry Night will be Saturday, November 16th at 6:00 PM at A&E Gallery. Other poets reading will be Mickey Delcambre, Suzi Thornton, Diane Moore, and Margaret Gibson Simon.
Ava reading from Eldest Daughter on YouTube (This one is for adults only despite what Lemony Snicket may say.):
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She teaches gifted elementary students, writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 