On Tuesday when the George Floyd murder conviction was announced, I was sitting in the nail salon. I glanced on my phone to see post after post from all the news feeds I follow, announcing the verdict.
The verdict is being framed as an important step forward in addressing systemic racism in our country. Many people were waiting with high anxiety to see the jury's decision. When, where, and what they were doing may become a "flashbulb memory" for them.
from Wikipedia
I have "flashbulb memories" from several occurrences:
1) My dad's hand on the doorknob of a closet that held my birthday present: a red wagon with a white bow.
Childhood Memory
I saw Katy’s dad
crying. It was April 4
1968.
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Your poem challenge today is to think of a flashbulb memory YOU have. It may be related to an event in the news, or it may be a personal event that carried shock or surprise in a way it has set down roots in your visual/sensory memory.
I like haiku form for this small, intense memory. It forces you to look at what aspect of the memory can capture the intensity. In my case, I'd never see a friend's FATHER cry. I knew something major had happened.
If you need to write a series of haiku, or use another form, you certainly may! If you don't feel you have a flashbulb memory to write about, choose another strong childhood image/memory.
Happy writing!
AB
Thanks to Ethical ELA for many of the prompts I'm adapting for my students this month.
Me sitting in my living room watching a movie when news of george floyd
ReplyDeleteMe coming home from school when I found out one of our family dogs had died
Sleeping in the night when I'm woke up with news that my grandpa was in the hospital with COPD
Parker, you have identified three flashbulb moments. I'm especially interested in how the George Floyd news hit you. How did you feel? If it shifted your thinking, how so?
DeleteIn the car with my family, on the way to Des Moines.
ReplyDeletePicking out names for the newest member of our family.
The excitement bubbling through me, almost making me jump.
Pulling up to their house, and seeing him.
The cute little brown eyed dog that will be my forever best friend.
Oh my! What a special flashbulb memory to capture in poetry! Picking out the name is a great detail to pull me (your reader) into the experience.
DeleteLeaning forward. Hand planted in the turf
ReplyDeleteLeg shaking of anticipation
0 - 0
5 seconds left.
Fullback dive. I cradled the ball tight
Everything went slow motion
Finally a glimmer of victory. Full speed, hold tight, get low
Across the line
Touchdown
Its finally over
I love sports poems. I feel the tension, the aggression as you enter this moment. "Hold tight, get low" might have been my favorite word combination.
DeleteThe world does not have enough sports poets. You might be one.
Plastic Bags Blow Away
ReplyDeleteI am sitting in darkness,
Muffled cries edge the silence with soft sound.
A breath.
Another.
Something that seemed scarce just moments before.
Escapism floods the veins as freely as blood,
And the door is unlocked.
Upon the departure a world of more darkness awaits,
No time for thought.
The house is silent if you ignore the patter of feet on porch wood.
As they descend down onto the sidewalk.
A new idea arises after discovering how dreadful the situation,
It seems as though the stars are the glare of a monster's hundred eyes.
And the path towards a false sense of safety was far and foolish.
Yet could one truly turn back and re-enter their home after such a rude leave?
Ignoring the devils that played just out of sight,
And the sound of following footsteps that infected the mind,
As all with sense know that shadows make no sounds,
The child takes a short-cut through the alley,
To avoid all other people.
A dog follows behind, though it's a mere illusion too,
And two blocks feel like centuries.
The childish mindset makes creatures of flagpoles.
As I arrive at the doorstep.
Upon arrival I wait and ponder for awhile,
Taking in the cold air as punishment for mental crimes.
With a final sigh I knock on the door,
And my grandma lets me inside.
Ariel,
ReplyDeleteI see in this poem a child escaping to her grandma for comfort in the night. Am I on the right track? I found your movement from first person to third person (the child...) then back to first intriguing, as if you stepped outside of yourself to watch "the child" make her journey in the night.
I stare upwards at the twinkling stars
ReplyDeleteAs fireworks bang in the distance
Everyone laughing as Genevieve “poll dances” on the lamppost
And Kaiden searches for us in an intense game of hide and seek
I remember sitting in the snow
The incoming year of 2020 in a few hours
Probably the last carefree moment
Before all hell broke loose