It was advertised as a chance to have our poetry critiqued by a real live published children’s poet.
We were instructed to bring samples of our work.
So I paid $100 dollars to attend a half-day “poetry workshop” at a lovely private school located in lovely Pacific Palisades, California put on by the SCBWI (the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators).
Like the several women and one other man who showed up at eight AM that morning, I was percolating with the hope of discovery. This would be my Dear Mr. Henshaw moment when an authentic published children’s author was going to tell me that I had what it takes to succeed.
But the real live children’s poet who ran this seminar had no intention of soiling her fine artistic temperament by actually reading any our work herself. Instead, we were put into groups and instructed to pass our poems around and leave comments on each other’s work. I got this gem of a comment on my poem My Funny Farm: “Why don’t you try rewriting it without using rhyme?”
In order to kill the last half hour of the seminar without having to engage in a direct one on one conversation with any of us, the Poetess in Charge instructed everyone to place one of her belongings on our respective tables and then each of us was to write a poem about something someone else had supplied. We were given fifteen minutes to complete this task.
When the woman leading the seminar asked if anyone wanted to read, the women at my table insisted that I share mine. It got a raucous round of laughter, which did not please our instructor one bit. Here’s the poem I wrote that day:
Ode to a Homeopathic PMS Remedy
Cranky, puffy, angry days Aren’t relieved too many ways But a homeopathic remedy Might be what it takes to see That PMS won’t ruin my day Now it’s time to go and play
Then I had a nice lunch on the beach in Malibu and went home.
It can’t be overstated
That dull is underrated
And boring is sublime
When you need a project ready
Be thorough, slow, and steady
Work and time will make it shine
Don’t make your schedule hurly-burly
Hit the sack and rise up early
And you’ll save yourself much strife
If you’re staying out till three
You’ll find a heap of misery
Home’s the place to make a life
Flash and fancy might be funner
But when you need to do it doner
Painstaking effort is the way Poco a poco is my motto
And until you win the lotto
You should show up every day
Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?
Did you forget to turn on the machine?
Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?
Why are they foul and obscene?
Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?
They s lack all luster and sheen.
Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?
Why are they yucky moldy green?
Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?
You look confused; don’t you know what I mean?
Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?
My name is Steve and I believe
All that I am told
My buddy Bill who lives up the hill
Is a hundred and sixty years old
My neighbor Frank who works at the bank
Is really the king of Siam
My friend Frankie Nicks who picks up my bricks
Once built the Hoover Dam
My tailor Tom who’s always so calm
Is a super secret spy
And my homey Sal who calls himself Al
Owns everything under the sky
My friends all agree that I’m lucky to be
Their favorite trusting friend
Just ask Mr. Wirth, who rules the Earth
He lives just round the bend
There’s a teensy-weensy town,
Which only can be found
When you get down on your knees
In a forest full of trees
And peer among the roots,
Rotten leaves, and shoots
Near the katydid
Just beneath the mushroom lid.
It’s a Lilliputian land,
Built, designed and planned
By a teeny-tiny breed
Of creatures known as Sneeds.
This itsy-bitsy borough
No deeper than a furrow
Has microscopic alleys,
Bridges, roads and valleys
Mini libraries and malls,
Little parks with waterfalls;
A minuscular world
Filled with minute boys and girls.
They get dressed each day like you
In their teensy clothes and shoes.
They attend their puny schools
So they won’t be dinky fools,
But like you they’d rather play
In their wondrous world all day.
So the next time you go hiking
You really would do well
To be careful to tread lightly
Cuz’ you really cannot tell
What worlds you may be trampling
In a forest or a dell.
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