Vanessa Shields's Blog, page 49

Poem 28 – What I Should Have Done…

What I Should Have Done When I Shook Hands With Sydney Pollack

When I shook hands with Sydney Pollack, I didn’t know how much I loved him.
He was dressed like a cowboy when everyone else was dressed in their filmfest best.

His grip was firm but welcoming. He looked me in my eyes and his smile still lingers on my shoulders. I wish I would have recognized more than his face. I wish I would have

known that his heart bloomed Dustin Hoffman into Tootsie, that his soul carried Streisand to tears in The Way We Were. When I shook hands with Sydney Pollack

all I was thinking about was Tom Cruise. That Sydney’s hand – the hand in mine – surely shared skin with Tom Cruise, likely even patted his back or landed on his

shoulder a resting in friendship. Tom Cruise I thought so hard it tied my tongue.
You directed him in The Firm, you acted with him in Eyes Wide Shut. My eyes were

wide shut. Kevin-Bacon-greased in the degrees of separation between Tom Cruise and I. Sydney Pollack, one separation away from Tom. His hand in Tom’s hand was Tom’s

hand in mine. When I shook hands with Sydney Pollack, I should have noticed he was alone, on his way to enter a side door, six feet from the blood-red carpet he had no

desire to dirty his black cowboy boots upon. I should have said, May I join you, sir? May I be your date for this evening’s soiree? He may have said no, gracefully, but he could

have said yes – then opened the door for me and gestured me forward into a night beyond should.

https://screenmusings.org/movie/blu-ray/Eyes-Wide-Shut/pages/Eyes-Wide-Shut-086.htm

If you don’t already know this about me, here it is. I’m a gargantuan movie lover. I went to film school, for goodness sake. In my teens and twenties I was convinced I was headed for the Hollywood hills, destined to be a light bursting its path in the Los Angeles highway of filmmaking. I thought I would be an assistant to a movie star while moonlighting as a screenwriter or a 1st AD (assistant director), literally rubbing shoulders with all my Hollywood heroes. That dream still fondles a part of my soul…and some days it feels like at least part of that dream is possible – the writing part.

This morning I was thinking about being famous. What that means. Why I am fascinated by it. Why I have a desire, a pretty consistent desire, to be famous…but in a peaceful, quiet kind of way…if that’s even possible.

If you don’t already know this about me, I’ve always dreamed of meeting Tom Cruise. This dream has evolved over the years. Gone is the panting tween wanting to make out in a cockpit with Maverick. Nah, I have my own Maverick (Hi husband!). Gone is sharing the silver screen in a Mission Impossible. What remains is, funnily enough, a simple want to shake his hand. Look in his eyes. Maybe share a meal and talk about movies and family and love and loss. (With my husband at the table. Hi husband!) If Tom wants to kiss me, well, he just can’t.

I think my feelings of desire to slipper-slide into famous-ity (new word alert) comes on the toes of my new book coming out. There’s always a part of me that believes this is the book! This is the one that will win the awards! This is the one that will get me on Fallon. Oh, the places these poems will take me! I don’t know…perhaps it’s silly. Perhaps there are no pipes for these kind of dreams. I know they’re not about money or fame, but about connectivity and sharing. And the truth is when anyone reads poetry – and shares it and buys it and talks about it and feels something from it – these are gifts that bring poets to tears of joy. At least this poet.

Sometimes it’s fun…and necessary and important to jump into the world of shoulda-coulda-woulda. There’s information there. There’s joy and enlightenment. There’s a kid in her jammies watching a young man smile, crooked teeth gleaming, gum popping, pen-clicking, whose little heart started believing that a man like that could exist for her. And guess what – she married him. (Hi husband!)

Who are your Hollywood crushes? What are your dreams to be famous?

Poem 27 – Brain

Brain

What kinda brain thinks up Solla Sollew?
The Grinch, the Lorax and Horton hearing a Who?

Gather round friends, I’ve got the answer right here
It’s a doctor, I tell you, Dr. Seuss, it’s true!

Inside his brain there’s Mulberry Street
Foxes in Sock-es and rhymes to a beat

There’s Yertles and Wockets and Sneetches and thneeds
A word kitchen catering to Imaginations’ needs

There’s oobleck and Mooney and Thidwick and Mayzie
Tongue-twisters galore that make a mouth crazy

When the doctor is in there’s much we will learn
About sharing and caring and waiting our turn

My favourite thing though I love about his brain
Is the way he makes up words that are wildly un-plain

Like Kwuggerbug and MGurkus, Thing 1 and Thing 2
It’s just so much fun, you agree with me, you do!

So let’s today jump inside Seuss’ brain
And press out fun words like choo-choos from trains

Here, let me start with a word just for you
Piddledeedinkle – it’s the lonely white shoe
That hangs from a phone wire in Woobucktucktoo

Oh, do it, my dears, this game is so thrilling
You can make up new words that are scrumptious and filling

All in good fun and imagination-growing
See the truth is we all have Seuss’ curious knowing

Our brains are quite stunning and brilliant, you know
Filled to the edges with creativity’s glow

So make up new words with gusto and verve
Give the world the gifts from your soul it deserves

And if you need a quick chunk of inspiration pie
Just pick up a book and hold it close to your eye

Look into the colours and spaces and sounds
Your brain it will flutter and awaken the towns

For playing and love that live in your head
We’re doctors too – it’s just like I said

What kind of brain thinks up Solla Sollew?
My brain and his brain and their brain and YOU

Original art by local artist Nhu Tu. For sale! $8.00 for a 5×7 print!

Happy Wednesday friends! I’m feeling quite gersplickety this morning! Inspired by the pretty blue sky and the sun who’s finally showing us her strength after longs days of grey. If you like the original art of Dr. Seuss, let me know! I’ve got beautiful prints in 5×7 for sale at only $8.00 a pop! This sketch was created by local Windsor artist Nhu Tu. And, there are more! Take a look at these…

Each piece is on matte card stock and comes in a plastic covering for safe mailing. They are all 5 x 7. Send me an email if you’re interested in purchasing any. The artist gets 100% of the money.

What is your new word today?

Poem 26 – so ● he ● li

so ●  he ●  li

(so | hey | lie)

soul heart light
trifecta convergence

-here-

where ribs bridge
& breasts brave

-here-

the sacristy of
this church body
where hands 
join In devotion  

-here-

exclaim!
so ●  he ●  li

here in me
here in you
 
all together now!
so ●  he ●  li
so ●  he ●  li
so ●  he ●  li

*FREE* Intro to Poetry Workshop – Some spots still open! Register today!

Please join me for a three-hour poetry workshop: Intro to Poetry: The Past, The Present, The Power!

When: Saturday, February 20, 2021 – 10am -1pm

Where: Virtual via Zoom (link will be set once you register)

What: In this inspiring three-hour workshop, join poet Vanessa Shields as she leads writers through a brief history of poetry, discussions about the critical role poetry plays in our lives, and how to find and cultivate our own poetic voices so we can write powerful poetry and share it with the world. As Shields travels back in time, writers will learn how to write some of the different forms of poems that have been created through history.  By learning from our past poets, recognizing the poets of ‘today’, and finding our own inner poet this introduction to poetry is hands-and-hearts on! We will read, write, discuss and share poetry! 

*Please bring your favourite poem written by a poet to this workshop. *Please have writing tools ready to go!

To register: Register on Eventbrite before February 17, 2021 as space is limited. Eventbrite Registration Link: https://scplintrotopoetry.eventbrite.ca

These workshops made possible with assistance from St. Catharines Public Library.

Poem 25 – Proceed

Proceed

Pull up your sweats
Rub one out (turn off the camera first)
Open the windows
Call your soul
Eat well and exercise
Embrace the dawn
Dance dance dance

Poem 24 – Amaryllis III

Amaryllis III

I butterfly kiss 
the wrinkles in
her petal wilts

trail whispers 
down her 
strong slender
stem

thank you I breathe
tor showing me how
to age with grace

how to lift my chin
to night with the 
same dedication 
as to the day

her sepals
like fingers
point north 
south east
west – a 
guide on
how to gaze

how to embrace
the relief of
letting go
trusting in 
the cycle 
that is 
thriving 
in all 
stages of
Being

everything about her is an exclamation of beauty
she ignites a weighted desire in me to claw into Now

Poem 23 – On the Benefits of Procrastination

On the Benefits of Procrastination

More sleep
Dusted garbage pail lids
Mounds of dog hair vacuumed
Dishes washed
Books shelved
Clothes put away
Empty laundry baskets
Animals brushed
Friends helped
Bed made
An orgasm
Bed re-made
Mind cleared
This poem

Poem 22 – What The Mind Forgets, The Heart Remembers

What The Mind Forgets, The Heart Remembers
For Linda C.

decades of days
lived together
burnt toast
flooded basement
mice in walls

where minutes lap like 
Lake Erie warmed 
in the hot summer sun
lost breath after sex
holding hands
eyes that talk

the soul writes your story
on the chamber walls in your hearts
tucks in the meaty folds
unknowns that paralyze
offspring in pain
lupus latching on 

the whole of it
your lives
intertwined like braided wool
the waning storms of
past and present 
rolling out a red carpet to
a future that will attempt
to steal your Beings

but you are dressed to the tens
dazzling with acceptance
gold rings
a locket necklace
a bow tie

what the mind forgets
are tracks in sand
but not the sand
not the gull’s desperate opera
the wind on ripe leaves
the ocean’s yawn

this obesity of living
re-minds the heart
how to hold love
tenderly
fiercely
eternally

Poem 21 – break

break

A convergence of too many thoughts
Stutters the clutch so I brake [break]

Consider the white eyebrow I plucked
How it didn’t hurt when I yanked it out

Like it was waiting
To be chosen

Blue Sky reveals herself
Makes a statement of reclamation

This day belongs to us she exclaims
She is another kind of waiting   another choice

Poem 20 – YIN LISTENING

YIN – LISTENING

Sigh into a comfortable seated position
Inhale deeply
Let your rib cage crack open
Reach in and gently remove your heart
(this will not hurt)
Rest it on your left knee

Let your breath steady
Close your eyes
Invite your soul to exit through the opening in your chest
Wait 
The soul moves at its own pace 

When your soul peeks out, offer your right palm
Let your soul jump into it
(this will not hurt)
Rest your open, soul-filled right palm on your right knee

Pull your shoulders back
Drop your shoulder blades

Breathe

You will feel your earlobes tingle
Heat will paint the cartilage in your ears
Let the words flood into your canals tubes drums
Outer – middle – inner

Keep breathing

Let your stomach digest the meanings of the words
This may begin to cause pain 
Breathe

When your heart starts trembling
Keep listening

When your soul starts shriveling
Keep listening

Breathe

Let the words penetrate
(this will hurt)

Breathe

At this point you will want to open your eyes
Stuff your heart and soul back into your body
Stand up and scream
Be angry
Drench in shame
Weep

Do what you will

Yin takes time

When you are ready return to a comfortable seated position
Repeat all steps gently
Breathe

The words still clattering in your intestines will calm
Listen

Taste the meanings
Hold them in your cells like white healing light
Breathe

Hear Love’s knitting needles begin to click
Witness Love’s purling of the words into the scarf of your life’s wisdom

Breathe

Poem 19 – Oscar I

Oscar – I

Oscar is royalty from souls past & this one too.
His paw is to be kissed when he holds it out in front
of your face which he does several times a day.

He is part polar bear part 80-year-old man part joker
joy-filled drooler. He’s bow-legged when he runs
which is rare for his main job is to nap & rest

sit & bark & nap some more. He does not like squirrels. 
The hackles on the back of his neck are an army of
protection standing erect at the ready when the yard

or the front porch is under attack from said squirrels
post people and the one feral cat who dares to saunter
past the maple. He cries when he sees a delicious bunny.

Oscar chose us when he was six weeks fresh. His wise
eyes and gentle heart magnetized to our family. Our 
familiar – Oscar is the king of our kingdom of Love.

This morning I asked Miller what she’d like me to write about. She said the dogs. Our dogs. Well, I could write volumes! So, poems about our dogs will be a topic I return to again and again.

Happy Tuesday all. Woof! Woof!