Today’s entry…
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Poetry
Sports (a poem)
I may be starting to get the hang of these things…
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Poet of the Month: Georgia S. McDade
A day late, but here we go…
For this latest entry in my series of tributes to poets I know, I celebrate and acknowledge Georgia S. McDade. Dr. McDade (she is the first African-American woman to earn a Ph.D in English from the University of Washington, in 1987) is one of those people who is seemingly in constant motion. On nearly every occasion I have seen her, she has either just come from another event, is about to rush off to another one, or both.
I know Georgia mainly through the monthly Writers Read, held the second Sunday of each month (except for May and August) at the library in Columbia City. Writers Read is presented by the African-American Writers’ Alliance, of which she is a founding member.
As a writer, she has written several books of poetry, including five volumes of her Outside the Cave series, as well as many essays and stories. What I like about her poems is that they are unambiguously in her own voice—that is, they sound like her. To hear Georgia McDade read one of her poems, or one of her stories, is to be part of a conversation. At least, that’s the feeling I always have.
As an educator for more than three decades, Georgia regularly encourages people to write, regardless of their level of experience. Everyone has a story to tell, she says, and that’s how we learn about each other, and discover those things we have in common.
To learn more, here are links to a couple of articles from the South Seattle Emerald.
And here is video of Dr. McDade reading some of her work:
(2 November 2017)
Trixie (a poem)
These elevenies are too damn serious so far. Here is a silly one to balance things out…
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Edges (a poem)
At the last minute, I decided on the elevenie as my writing challenge for November—another month of counting words…
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Beginning to melt (a poem)
Written this Tuesday morning while listening to the music that follows…
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Of (a poem)
I started this with the line about the wheat stalk. I don’t know why, but I went with it anyway…
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Iona, the Ethereal (a poem)
I wrote this earlier today, after learning about the new Ruby Throat album. This poem can be read two ways: either in order, or the long lines followed by the italicized lines.
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The failure of signposts (a poem)
You can’t trust everything you see…
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Western Family Original Saltines (a poem)
I should not have been surprised—Western Family products tend to be kind of gross…
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