Friday, June 7, 2013

Friday Original Poem

Little Garlic River Waterfall

This poem was born out of my poetry therapy homework. First we were given the first lines of the poem below I,I by Yosano Akikio which was first published in the inaugural issue of the feminist magazine Seito in September 1919. Then we after reading the poem we sat with it and asked questions like : What will move my mountains? Are there obstacles I want to overcome? Or who do I want to be? Who am I?

So for me it wasn't mountains I identified with but water. I encourage you to write your own version even use some of Akiko's phrases to get going and see what happens.

By Yosano Akiko

The day the mountains move has come.
Or so I say, though no one will believe me.
The mountains were merely asleep for awhile.
But in ages past, the had moved, as if they were on fire.
If you don't believe me, that's fine with me.
All I ask is that you believe this and only this,
That at this very moment,
women are awakening from their deep slumber.

If I could but write entirely in the first person,
I, who am a woman.
If I could writer entirely in the first person,

By Regina Gort

The day has come that the Little Garlic River will overflow,
taking in the sandy banks, swallowing the surrounding land,
when it will merge with Lake Superior as one.
Or so I say and no one will beleive me.

The river has been steadfast to its sandstone ravines
to its rock riverbed where it passed gently along.
And now the rains are plentiful, abundant and fierce.
A persistent downpour of clarity that stirs the river's desire
To be whole and overflowing.

All I ask is that you believe this and only this,
that at this very moment I am awaking.
I, who am mighty
I, who am whole
I, who am one with river, with rock, with rain and with Lake
I, who overflows


  1. There is a water spirit inside you, my friend. And you keep that spirit alive and happy. Another wonderful poem!

    1. Thank you, Kathy. I hope you spend time down by the water at Boyds for me, close your eyes and you can hear my whisper of encouragement, dear friend.

  2. Beautiful poem, Gina. I guess my water spirit lives in the Pacific Ocean. I miss it.

    1. Thanks, Ann. I can see how you would be kin with the Pacific. I love the West coast, too.

  3. I long for a river like that to flow through this dry land where I live now. A beautiful poem, Regina. Also, I am mentioning you and Juliet and your blog in a post today to thank you so much for the award.

    1. I saw the pictures of how dry your desert is this year. I wish I could mail you some rain clouds!