Fairendale Blackout Poetry 003
Some Fairendale blackout poetry: the creative kind.
She was no
ordinary blackbird
She flew
far away
Leaves: A Poem
Recently I’ve been challenging myself to produce the final draft of poems within 15 minutes of writing the first draft. This is because I struggle with a little thing called “perfectionism.” So here’s one of the first poems I’ve written without 5 or more revisions.
Leaves
In them,
you can see the veins of life,
spidering toward the edges,
curling up at the ends,
dry, beaten, torn in places
like they have been used up
to their fullest.
And now that they have been
used up to their fullest,
they will become
part of the
forest floor.
And one day
we will join them,
the circle of life
spiraling on.
Fairendale Blackout Poetry 001
In my spare time lately (that’s a hilarious statement if I’ve ever heard one), I’ve been working on some blackout poetry. Sometimes my boys help me, sometimes they just watch.
Here’s the first poem I created, using old Fairendale books that were published under my real name, rather than my pen name (they no longer exist).
Know which book this page is from?
Soon I’ll be selling these prints to help raise some money for literacy programs in my city and across the country—because a child’s best chance at climbing out of poverty is having a good foundation of literacy.
