A Poem for Christopher Robin

I didn’t read A.A. Milne as a child. I was an adult before I discovered Pooh Corner and Milne’s lovely stories sprinkled with verse. Any writer for children who has tried to tell a story in rhyming verse knows just how difficult it can be and why editors tend to say don’t send it to them! Here is the perfect explanation.


From The House at Pooh Corner

“Don’t Bustle me,” said Eeyore, getting up slowly. “Don’t now-then me.” He took a piece of paper from behind his ear, and unfolded it. “Nobody knows anything about this,” he went on. “This is a Surprise.” He coughed in an important way, and began again: “What-nots and Etceteras, before I begin, or perhaps I should say, before I end, I have a piece of Poetry to read to you. Hitherto—hitherto—a long word meaning—well, you’ll see what it means directly—hitherto, as I was saying, all the Poetry in the forest has been written by Pooh, a Bear with a Pleasing manner but a Positively Startling Lack of Brain. The Poem which I am now about to read to you was written by Eeyore, or Myself, in a Quiet Moment. If somebody will take Roo’s bull’s-eye away from him, and wake up Owl, we shall all be able to enjoy it. I call it—POEM.”

This was it.

Christopher Robin is going.
At least I think he is.
Where?
Nobody knows.
But he is going—
I mean he goes
(To rhyme with “knows”)
Do we care?
(To rhyme with “where”)
We do
Very much.
(I haven’t got a rhyme for that
“is” in the second line yet.
Bother.)
(Now I haven’t got a rhyme for
bother. Bother.)
Those two bothers will have to
rhyme with each other Buther.
The fact is this is more difficult
than I thought,
I ought—
(Very good indeed)
I ought
To begin again,
But it is easier
To stop.
Christopher Robin, good-bye,
I
(Good)
I
And all your friends
Sends—
I mean all your friend
Send—
(Very awkward this, it keeps
going wrong)
Well, anyhow, we send
Our love
END.

--A.A. Milne

National Poetry Month

April is National Poetry Month. In celebration, I'm going to try and post some favorite poems throughout the month, but before I start, I have my own poetry news to celebrate. My poem, "Allison," is included in this month's issue of the Birmingham Arts Journal. Click on "latest edition" and navigate to page 15 of the journal. I would love to hear your comments.

On Thursday, I had appointments with my Delaney sales job in some of my northern counties. So after heading north, I meandered west, over to Birmingham, for the journal's launch party. It's always fun meeting new folks who love the same things you do. The reading was held in the Maralyn Wilson Gallery, a wonderfully eclectic little art gallery. I love reading aloud, and reading poetry aloud is such fun. Watching for people's resonses, listening for the hush that accompanies understanding, the satisfaction of the final word. It was a delightful evening.

A poem for today from one of my favorite poets, Theodore Roethke:

A Light Breather

The spirit moves,
Yet stays:
Stirs as a blossom stirs,
Still wet from its bud-sheath,
Slowly unfolding
Turning in the light with its tendrils;
Plays as a minnow plays,
Tethered to a limp weed, swinging,
Tail around, nosing in and out of the current,
Its shadows loose, a watery finger;
Moves, like the snail,
Still inward,
Taking and embracing its surroundings,
Never wishing itself away,
Unafraid of what it is,
A music in a hood,
A small thing,
Singing.

Once Upon a Time

Once Upon a Time is a wonderful little magazine for children's authors. I had an article published in the Spring 2009 issue. Editor Audrey Baird is looking for submissions, so if you have wisdom or encouragement to offer other writers, send her your work.

I originally began this blog for my children who are scattered across the country. I wanted to keep them up to date on the remodeling project next door that my husband and I took on. The article published in Once Upon a Time resulted from watching the process. Here's my article and some pictures to add a little interest.

Remodel, Revise, Reinvent
by Doraine Bennett



My husband and I recently bought the house next door to us. The shallow-roofed, fifties style house sagged like a worn out volume of Good Old Archibald that no one had picked up for years. It might have been a good idea in the fifties, but today, it looked like a really bad first draft.



We began remodeling with the idea that we would remain within the original footprint of the house. Structural damage forced us to boost the foundation with helical piers. We tore off the roof and added a second story. We rearranged the interior walls to make fewer, but larger, rooms.

One day our Hispanic brick mason pointed to the exterior brick wall. “No good,” he said shaking his head. The bricks were not tied to the house structure. The whole wall could collapse at any moment.

I have a few first drafts, stuck away in drawers or buried in computer folders, with as many structural problems as the house next door.

Sometimes, I get stuck in the footprint of the original draft, not realizing if I just pulled the roof off or moved the bricks, I could expand my story, find room for ideas that I hadn’t considered, or add a new dimension with subplots, stronger characters, and deeper themes.

It doesn’t necessarily mean throwing out the whole thing, just looking at it with new eyes, finding what is of value, and not being afraid to tear down a few walls or words.


We named our revised house next door “The Resting Place.” One day, when the work is done, it will be a place of solace for friends and family who need to be refreshed and reminded that joy can be found in difficult places.

I would like for my stories to do that, too. Refresh a reader. Offer a small reminder of peace. A glimmer of hope.






Revision is challenging. We tend to see what is there instead of what could be there. But when the finished product brings joy, the time and effort is well spent.

Comment Contest

Drop by Market My Words for some excellent ideas on marketing. Shelli freely shares her marketing skills and often interviews editors and agents about marketing strategies. This month she is holding a Comment Your Butt Off contest. So stop by and comment! You could win a free website designed by Shelli herself!

Gems from Kathleen Duey

Southern Breeze Springmingle Notes

Bits of wisdom from a delightful author:

Unless the coffee table is important, don't describe it.

If you have a digital recorder, take it with you to the garden, the gym, for a walk. You can collaborate with yourself later, complete with excitement in the voice.

When doing research, find professors on the internet. E-mail them and ask for books they would recommend on your subject. The two or three books that overlap from professors are the best research in the field. Read them and you've saved yourself hours of time.

Experiment when you start a new work. Try first person, third person, present tense, change the age of your protagonist. A significant investment in exploration will provide depth and understanding of your characters before you start writing.

Pass on everything you know about life to people who don't know it yet.

Woohoo!

I mentioned a few weeks back that I am participating in Nancy Sander's Book in a Month Club posts. The goal is to TRY to land a contract for a book by targeting publisher needs rather than trying to find a home for our own finished work. So I have been sending out queries for books that I haven't even written yet! It's a bit frightening, but loads of fun.

I got my first response yesterday. So now I have to become an automatic expert in a field that I expressed interest in and write a proposal!

Drop by Nancy's blog and you'll learn a lot about changing your frame of reference for approaching publishers.

Another Conference

Last weekend I drove home from a conference in the the snow. This past weekend I went to the beach, walked barefoot in sand still cold from winter wind, slept with earplugs against the spring break crowd at Party City Beach, and sat around tables with 250 women at another conference.

So many gems gleaned from each gathering. I hope to sort through them in the next few weeks and pass some of them along.

So after two weeks of conferences, deadlines, and crowded rooms, my body is tired, my soul is stretched, but that third ephemeral part of me, my spirit, is renewed. In my backyard, I watch the hidden buds of forsythia and azalea break the sepals and bloom golden and coral and purple and pink. My amaryllis bulbs are jabbing thick stems out of the ground. In another week or two their red blooms will trumpet spring!

New growth from old roots. Warm ideas from cold ground. Spring is a good place to be.