Brenna’s workshop group put together a bricolage poem today.  By definition, it’s a piece of writing that brings together disparate pieces of available material to create a single construction. It is meant to be a collage, a blending.  Here is a blending of our group’s unique voices.

 

A Bricolage.

1.  The harmonious ensemble of violins and violas played a soft tune, reverberating through the air, bringing the bridge to life. (Laura, Stowe, Vermont)

2.  I am from sea salt, whose grains I swam in a washed my newly pierced ears with. (Emma, New York City, New York)

3.  The light made my grandmother’s headscarf shine, warming her dyed-blonde hair. She nodded when I asked her if she liked the soup. We did not talk for a while. She has grown older, this past year. (Marc, New York City, New York)

4.  Uncontrollable menace (10 messages) (Maddy, Reston, Virginia)

5. As the clock goes round and round, the names are changed, the flags put up and taken down. There are those who remember alongside those who attempt to forget, but while we move forward, the past isn’t over quite yet.  (Lexie, Charlotte, North Carolina)

6.  In a square window, I saw a small potted lorax tree. The branches were thin and weak and cracked, and a metal prong of magenta cotton was sunk into the sail. It was arranged so that the branches seem to be rupt and feathery purple and childrens’ book memories. (Caroline, Yarmouth, ME)