Poetry: Our poems

Telling Our Story in Verse, pt. 2

In the spirit of Tell Arlington’s Story – Arlington County’s initiative to gather stories that demonstrate Arlington’s rich cultural diversity – the Shirlington Poetry Workshop has challenged writers to create new poems about Arlington.  

New in Arlington, by Carmen Marcus

We decided to leave the suburbs
hiding our fear of a new adventure,
a journey to search for a new urban home,
a place to rest our bones . . . and work and dream,
a place to keep on living.
We came to Shirlington Village, not quite a village, for it is more like a city,
we came to care for our elders, but ….I had to care for myself!
Sitting at the little plaza of Shirlington,
I feel the soft rain caressing my face
people come and go . . . suddenly they seem in a hurry
just like ants looking for hiding places
because the soft rain is now becoming a blustering storm!
Empty spaces . . . empty streets.
When the noisy storm passes,
the ardor of life returns,
in the evenings of jazz,
the music caresses the air
and the urban dance starts.
The small wooden bridge shines with the workers’ sweat,
workers, residents and tourists, walk down the avenue,
cyclists and runners, who barely seem to touch the pavement,
have to slow down for friendly dogs, discerning older couples and nannies with babies.
They all seem to dance around each other leaving their scents in the air.
Magic dance of life in the street,
each seeking their own dreams,
knowledge, pleasure and peace
and a small space to cradle the spirit.
Oh Arlington sensual cultural garden!
where sadness mixes with hope,
small oasis of struggle and pleasure
where I have met many inspiring souls
like the young man at the library
with the soothing masculine voice,
the one who guides poetic spirits . . .

It is perhaps my sensitive soul
that has found a place TO LIVE,
many come and go . . .
but I’d like to stay
If just to dream and love again!

Seguir Viviendo

Quisimos despedirnos de los suburbios
y escondiendo nuestros temores
cual sigilosa aventura
fuimos en busca de belleza urbana
de un lugar nuevo … donde apoyar nuestras cabezas
donde trabajar y soñar
y seguir viviendo.
Llegamos a la villa de Shirlington
como la llaman aquí…más ciudad que villa,
yo llegué para cuidar de los frágiles míos
pero fue que también, tuve que cuidar de mi misma.

Voy llegando a la placita de Shirlington,
y siento la lluvia como una caricia.
El sol se va ocultando con la amenaza de tormenta.
Muy pronto, muchos buscarán refugio en la biblioteca
pues veo la gente apresurada, que va y viene
casi como cuando las hormigas
corren a sus escondites para no ser destruidas.
Tan pronto como la tormenta pasa
el ardiente fervor de la calle retorna
y en las tardes de jazz
cuando la música acaricia al aire
el puente de madera se ilumina con sudor,
el sudor de los trabajadores que van al descanso.
Se siente vida . . .
Los turistas caminan lentamente, observando los escaparates,
corredores y ciclistas vuelan, apenas tocando el pavimento,
niños y perros juegan alrededor de sus familias o cuidadores,
el círculo de vida gira alrededor de la biblioteca.

Todos llegamos a esta placita,
tal vez buscando algo diferente,
ya sea conocimiento, placer o paz.
Todos tratamos de encontrar la esquinita perfecta
para acunar el alma
¡Oh Arlington jardín cultural!
donde las tristezas se juntan con las alegrías
Pequeño oasis de sudor y placer
donde he conocido seres que inspiran,
como el joven poeta,
quien con su voz suave pero masculina,
guía nuestros espíritus poéticos.
Pues es tal vez mi alma susceptible,
qué quisiera aquí plantar raíces,
Muchos solo vienen de paso…llegan y se van,
yo quisiera quedarme aquí,
¡Pues aun tengo ansias de soñar, trabajar y amar!
¡Y tal vez . . . otra vez VIVIR!

Learn more about the Poetry Workshop.

Telling Our Story in Verse, pt. 1

In the spirit of Tell Arlington’s Story – Arlington County’s initiative to gather stories that demonstrate Arlington’s rich cultural diversity – the Shirlington Poetry Workshop has challenged writers to create new poems about Arlington.

By Mark Powell:

The world over, in our area too
Are places of sharp division in little space,
Yea even across a clear single line.
Places of bifurcation, dichotomy.
Half Street in south DC
Glebe Road between Beverly Hills and Arlandria
And Shirlington. Between the “villages”’s affluence, ease, prettiness
And much harder scrabble
Ranging honorable blue collars to illegal presence and desperation.
Two peoples, overlapping, interacting little
Two environments
Separated by a little river
A dry-times ankle-splash, in rains a brief torrent
Some trees and trail
And, like most any other such stretch
Lots of trash that shouldn’t be there.
The better of daily walkers peck at it
Occasional groups bite more largely of it
But it never disappears.

In these score-odd acres on both sides are two Americas.
The library contrasts, in some, illiteracy
(In English if not their own languages)
Harris Teeter, the food bank
The nice shops, the used-tire place
WETA, the Weenie Beenie
But these contrasts do not define most important human ones.
Good and bad populate both sides.
On both are people who should be on the other
Either to enjoy the fruits or toil or wander in the grittiness.
In places far and mutually unknown
And ones immediate and quasi-strangers,
People are what they do and believe
Not where they are, work, shop, play, sleep.
And all in all this division
Shows a great, maybe uniquely American good:
For you see, there is no gunfire
Not even rock-throwing across the Run
Our footbridge is not the Bridge at Mostar
The peoples and their dogs meet in the park.
America, at least in ideal, is not about equal outcomes, but opportunities
Making movement across the lines in all Shirlingtons free.

Learn more about the Poetry Workshop.

This poem, called a Renga, was written by Susan, Grace, Marcia and Geoff, of the Shirlington Poetry Workshop:

Who would imagine
Fresh snow on cherry blossoms
Winter’s chill clings on

Brings questions to the mind
and stories of past times

Your words imbued with frost
Breath clouding over your hands
Saying grace outside

Prayers spread their wings
Fly upward to trembling trees
As blossoms fall with each breath

But your words stay cold
and hang in the air like mist
Blossoms peer through snow

The Renga is a Japanese style of theme-focused poetry, in which writers take turns writing stanzas. Originally, the first stanza was three lines long with a total of seventeen syllables and the second stanza a couplet with seven syllables per line, and the pattern repeated. Contemporary poets have eased these rules, allowing writers to adjust the line lengths (as they do here).

Want to try your hand at writing poetry, or meet other local poets? Check out the Shirlington Poetry Workshop, the 4th Monday of each month, at the Shirlington Branch Library. The next meeting will be Monday, April 25, at 6:30 p.m.