22 hours ago
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
...just really never know someone right?
This is my friend/poet/singer song writer Andrea. Love her style. Free thinker. Fellow Cherokee sister. Mother. And so much more.
We took a trip into Philly on Sunday to explore the burbs and starting a Storytelling and writers group between her south Jersey and my central Jersey digs.
Her and I have been friends for about five years. We met at an open mic her hubs hosted in Collingswood, after being invited by Vito, a singer/songwriter who came all the way up my way for my open mic at the coffee house. Her and I hit it off from the get go. I love her way of thinking.
We had to drag her son along with us, as well as my own kid, but they entertained each other in the back seat. Boys never really grow up you know. After taking Joyel, my son's Liberian African co-worker to have a cheese steak, we were all amused by the local park. Andrea especially. I thought this was an interesting photo op.
During our discussions she challenged me to write a boast. We are exploring ideas to get the group going once we meet. She had wanted to do a photography retreat a few years back, but we discussed how not everyone has the equipment and the cost to cover her time. I think this will be much better and she is always talking about our heritage and old native practices or oral storytelling.
Here is my boast draft-
I, Elizabeth Ann of the Akin clan,
born in the land of sandy loam, pecan, and sage brush
descendants of Scottish poets and Cherokee warriors
tender of pots and child of food and fire stoking women
I daughter of old west pioneers, stand before you,
a modern-day culinarian poet preserving kitchen tradition; orally and fireside feast.
Oceans grow shallow for this earth-stepper
as my feet travel distant lands
by soil of Ireland, Holland, Spain, Korea, and Italy have a I also trodden
through gypsy dances, pagodas, canal drifters, and castles
jewels of experience to turn over in the light of memory
daily I dream of other destinations to feed my desire
to see and know this mystical world is my destiny
I have made mighty music with my fingers on the page
rode bareback and walked rocky trails along great rivers
pursued the prize of motherhood bearing great heirs
taught my native tongue to those in my new north east home
claimed my gold in poetry competitions
won the heart of a mighty king upon third times charm
and returned to tell the tale to those who have ears to hear
Now, I will face the fierce crowd before me
offering up my wit and words
I will take care of what and who are mine
unwilling to be ambushed and backed into a corner by buffoons
or waste my time slinging rattlesnakes across thresholds
I’ll make good on my boast and talk all the louder –
poets will celebrate my actions with rousing cries
shaping my deeds into timeless songs.
I looked up boast and found a few examples to follow...most are my own, a few are not...