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| My great-grandfather with my grandmother, brother and mother. |
Like most
of my poems, this one started as a freewrite.
When I
was growing up, I loved hearing my grandmother talk about her
Norwegian father. She couldn't stand her bullying older sisters (Tillie was the
absolute worst), and she never told me much about her mother, who died young, but
she adored her father. He died the same year I was born, but from my grandmother's stories, I felt like I knew this man who escorted two younger nephews to the U.S. and ended up staying here himself.
Writing from one of my own prompts in class (the assignment was to
"translate" a Norwegian poem), I began facetiously with "I want to speak Norwegian" then ended up writing about this
fabled family character, my great-grandfather, who I'd never met. I think most
of my favorite pieces start this way. In the beginning, I have no idea where
I'm headed, and, with luck, I can let the ink and creativity take the lead. If I’m even luckier, I'll end up with a poem that may have something to say to others, too.
That’s what happened with “I Want to Speak Norwegian,” which recently earned a 3rd Honorable Mention in the Oregon Poetry Association’s “Poet’s
Choice” category.
Here’s what the judge of the contest, John Sibley Williams,
said about all of the six poems he selected:
“Given the wealth of
incredible poems submitted to Poet’s Choice this year, selecting only six was a
struggle. So many more deserve to be honored.
…All six of these
profound, moving poems inspired me. They stimulated. They emphasized conversation
over didacticism, allowing me to encounter them on my own terms. They all
shocked me with their potent images and surprised me with their turns and
transformations.
And they accomplished this via such diverse methods.”*
I’m grateful to have my work included in this
generous praise, but even more, I love that Williams acknowledges how many
poems deserve to be honored.
As a creative writing teacher, I know there are
legions of artists creating rich pieces that may
or may not receive the attention they deserve. And yet every time my classes
meet, the room hums with appreciation for the words of all the participants.
Now that the spring sessions of my classes have come to a close, I want
to thank every one of my students for the depths of their creativity and
courage. Their work enriches other lives, and, I hope, their own. And that, I
believe, is the ultimate reward.
