A student sent me the following “Nosy Questions” for me to consider responding to on my website.
- Name: Mrs. Kashi
- Age: Younger than Goldie Hawn; older than Reese Witherspoon.
- Month of birth: June
- Siblings: 2 brothers, 1 sister – all younger; mostly human.
- Parents married: For 57 years.
- Occupation: You’re kidding?
- Like job? Love it.
- Pets? Lily – a darling 7 pound Chihuahua/Italian Greyhound mix.
- Hair color? Hmmmm. I’d love to be a redhead….
- Eye color? ….with green eyes…
- Shoe size? …and tiny size 5 shoes…
- Tattoos? …with a butterfly tattoo next to….
- Piercings? …the piercing on my…
- Current mood? Goofy.
- Current wardrobe choice? Sweats and matching earrings and an umbrella hat.
- Music? Persian.
- Who did you last telephone? Sweetheart.
- What do you smell like? Probably chlorine; I was at the pool.
- Movie watched? Confessions of a Shopaholic
- Magazine read? National Geographic
- Thing you ate? Tuna Sandwich
- Book you read? Double Cross by James Patterson
- TV show you watched? Top Chef
- Time you cried? Hmm. I’m ready to cry now. I can’t believe I said I’d answer these questions!
- Took a shower? I only shower twice a year – Christmas and Easter; it’s a family tradition. The rest of the time I hose off in the back yard.
- Got a real letter – snail mail? Christmas.
- Ate at a restaurant? Persian food.
Okay. I’m finished; 27 out of 100 isn’t bad, is it?
To make a prairie (1755) by Emily Dickinson
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain (280) by Emily Dickinson
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading—treading—till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through—
And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum—
Kept beating—beating—till I thought
My Mind was going numb—
And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space—began to toll,
As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here—
And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down—
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing—then—
Why this poet? Why these poems?
I was attending West Georgia College, and my American Literature teacher introduced Emily Dickinson to me. Before this class, poetry was something I didn’t really “get.” Not the good stuff anyway. Not the poetry worthy of a university lit class.
I fell in love with this poet, these poems and discovered poetry speaks to the heart. That words mean something beyond what I’d previously known.
I tell you this, dear student, not because I’m an authority on poetry but because I want you to improve your reading, writing, study, and self-monitoring skills to such an extent that you, too, can fall in love with words, whether in poetry or literature, but certainly with the good stuff worthy of a college/university-level English class.