Nosy Questions and Favorite Poet

Nosy Questions

A student sent me the following “Nosy Questions” for me to consider responding to on my website.

  1. Name: Mrs. Kashi
  2. Age: Younger than Goldie Hawn; older than Reese Witherspoon.
  3. Month of birth: June
  4. Siblings: 2 brothers, 1 sister – all younger; mostly human.
  5. Parents married: For 57 years.
  6. Occupation: You’re kidding?
  7. Like job? Love it.
  8. Pets? Lily – a darling 7 pound Chihuahua/Italian Greyhound mix.
  9. Hair color? Hmmmm. I’d love to be a redhead….
  10. Eye color? ….with green eyes…
  11. Shoe size? …and tiny size 5 shoes…
  12. Tattoos? …with a butterfly tattoo next to….
  13. Piercings? …the piercing on my…
  14. Current mood? Goofy.
  15. Current wardrobe choice? Sweats and matching earrings and an umbrella hat.
  16. Music? Persian.
  17. Who did you last telephone? Sweetheart.
  18. What do you smell like? Probably chlorine; I was at the pool.
  19. Movie watched? Confessions of a Shopaholic
  20. Magazine read? National Geographic
  21. Thing you ate? Tuna Sandwich
  22. Book you read? Double Cross by James Patterson
  23. TV show you watched? Top Chef
  24. Time you cried? Hmm. I’m ready to cry now. I can’t believe I said I’d answer these questions!
  25. 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.
  26. Got a real letter – snail mail? Christmas.
  27. Ate at a restaurant? Persian food.

Okay. I’m finished; 27 out of 100 isn’t bad, is it?

Favorite Poet

To make a prairie (1755) by Emily Dickinson

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee.
And revery.
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.