5 Comments

Lyrical Soul

When I first began writing poetry, my offerings were raw, uncontrolled confessions that sought to creatively express an experience I deemed significant. Indeed poetry is expressive, but apparently, many dead, old men accompanied by the presence of a host of pioneering women set standards that defined poetry, but also confined and constricted it. Beyond the Shakespearean and English sonnets, Keat, Yeats, Lord Byron, and Emily Dickenson, I discovered new voices that better represented my own echo and a “form without rules” called free verse.

As an M.F.A. student, I worked with Poet Major Jackson who taught me to employ the Subjective “I,” Steven Cramer, Program Director at Lesley University taught me that there were no good or bad poems, just good and bad examples. Faculty mentor Janet Sylvester showed me that a poem without lineation is narrative prose, not a poem; Raphael Campo guided me into a world of writing as a means of healing and allowed me to unleash what he dubbed my, “loud, in your face voice.” And last, but certainly not least, Poet Thomas Sayers Ellis, author of the recently released epic collection, Skin, Inc. taught me – to teach me – to learn me – to show me – that what’s before me can be in reverse, that it’s “Ok” to write like nobody is watching, and those boxes called stanzas, can also box-in a poem waiting to be released.

Lyrical Soul is my  first poetic collection and admittedly, a hurried work of art. A man who loved me bid on a publishing package at a silent auction. He won it, and then bestowed his generosity upon my budding literary life.  Four years later, I decided to do “sumthin’ sumthin'” as the publishing company was changing owners and my poetic voice, too, had changed.

This collection is built upon my love for language and it’s ability to leap high, reach long, and creatively crawl in free verse forms. Initially, it was inspired as a gift to family and friends who had no clue what I was doing in Cambridge, MA,  nor did they know what an M.F.A. was, OR why you needed to study to write. They had to see it, in this collective I tried to show it, but many still don’t “get it.” Hence, the craft directive: In poetry, you show, don’t tell.

It incorporates varied poetic devices that include metaphor, imagery, lyrical verse, meter, assonance, slant rhyme and rhythm’s ranging from:

“…southern sass to  emotions that touch the soul!”

Poets and those less familiar with the genre will all enjoy its three-part sections that include: praise, risk, & double-meaning. My poems  resonate both somber tones and celebratory themes of family and religion that speak to my triumph over cancer to more whimsical poems that transcend African-American history.

ISBN13 Softcover: 978-1-4257-8874-2

Available at Amazon.com, Borders.com,  Barnesandnoble.com or

Xlibris: http://www.xlibris.com/bookstore

888-795-4274 ext. 7876

International Orders:  orders@xlibris.com

Leave a comment

Educators Take Lead In Outreach Effort

 

http://jacksonville.com/tu-online/stories/050802/neR_9327498.shtml

Enter your password to view comments.

Protected: Malignant Wind: Foreword & Chapters 1-5

This content is password-protected. To view it, please enter the password below.

Leave a comment

What does Penny Dickerson do? “I write.”

I am an artist whose muse is language.

My indulgence is journalism and poetry, both of which I utilize as a neo-duo I’ve coined,
“curious creativity.”

Information need not be reportage rote and stagnant to intrigue, nor must poetry “end rhyme”  to narrative emotion that transcends human condition or align with lyrics that invite language to long-leap.

I enjoy writing about people of intrigue and subjects often overlooked or underrepresented. Likewise, I enjoying penning poems that defy form in verse, employ literary devices including meter, slant/off rhyme, assonance, metaphor, or anything I may choose to gently encourage a poem to “do.” A poet I know would read the latter and respond: poems don’t do, poems be. People do.

I am a people who “poetic do-be.”

Personally, I am a military-raised, Texas born woman who currently resides in Florida. I earned a B.A. degree in Journalism at Temple University (Philadelphia, PA) and furthered studies at Lesley University in Cambridge, MA. Upon completing two years of writing residencies with some fine, fine, fine writing instructors, attending oft boring and hip faculty readings, perusing Harvard Square, and ultimately learning that I didn’t know “JACK” about line breaks, they awarded me an M.F.A. in Creative Writing. Funny how that worked out!

Most recently, I’ve decided that surviving cancer wasn’t a battle worthy of returning to a 40 hour-week grind. I now launch out into the deep and pursue writing full-time because after all, I am a writer, and I am a penny poet.

This 2011 year, I was selected to participate in a Creative Capital Professional Development Workshop. It changed my life. I am focused, goal oriented, special project directed and determined.

In April of this same good fortune year, I will be one of 12 writers participating in the National Minority Writer’s Seminar at Vanderbilt University, sponsored by the National Board of Editorial Writers. I look forward to learning how to “temper my opinion” and diversify my writing.

Actually, I just look forward to writing.

I welcome honest response.

P

Leave a comment

Zora Neal Hurston Festival – heart of Haiti (2011)


4 Comments

“The Downtown Dwell”

GUESS WHO MOVED?

STUDIO 515 – CITY PLACE RESIDENCES (DOWNTOWN JACKSONVILLE) IS AVAILABLE FOR RENT BY THE OWNERS.

CONTACT ME VIA GMAIL FOR DETAILS IF YOU’RE INTERESTED.

CLICK LINK BELOW TO SEE PHOTO IMAGES OF A GREAT PLACE TO LIVE!

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.1777246122590.2094299.1582474487&l=2f642fdf76

“What a woman needs to write is a room of her own…” Virginia Woolfe.

Good ‘0le prophetic Virginia. How I thank thee for uttering universal truth.

All artists need their own room or space; solitude; peace. I’ve been blessed with all three in the one-room confine of a 15 floor, downtown high-rise structure I didn’t know existed. I’d heard loose rumor that people lived in downtown Jacksonville, but concluded they were all residents of the Duval County Jail. Only a prisoner would (or should) be housed in a southern city’s “minimum-security eye-sore.”

Who knew there were thousands of happy residents dwelling in windowed towers that almost kiss sky along the river bank? Not I. Who knew my own building bearing the moniker “Residences at City Place,” served as a free-man’s holding cell to city employees, techies, policemen, artists, and a motley crew of others who I have no clue as to what they employment do. We mock the majors with our furry, leashed friends, monthly parking dues, front lobby banter, and late night, greased-box, deliveries. With one eye-closed, yes: this could be Atlanta, San Fran, or Manhattan, with a very off, off, off-Broadway kind of spin.

But I like it. It’s quiet, quaint, and convenient. The building is kept immaculately clean thanks to the two, merciless hands of a lone Mexican woman who prides herself on finding  crumbs in corners and smeared glass. There are three (working) elevators that open with precision and the laundry room isn’t a coin eating culprit. I like it. It’s home. There’s “Justin’s Restaurant” through an adjoining inside door or street entry that specializes in Caribbean, Seafood, and Soul Food. I testify that the plantains are sweet and the rice and peas are cooked “coconut milk drunk” until they reach moist consistency.  Owner Michael Vann won my morning heart with his “cooked to order” veggie omelets and a phone call when ready. “Can your Broadway do that?” I don’t think so.

OK. So one of the cities homeless missions is two blocks west, The rescue mission east, and the Salvation Army due north. A thick swallow if you’re a condo Realtor, but ya know what? I’m Clara White friendly. Over a decade ago, I parallel parked in front of her doors to attend Board Meetings.  Am I too good to now neighbor? I think not. Besides, homeless people aren’t dangerous, they’re homeless and hungry. ‘Nuf said.

Pleasing to the eye is my fifth floor view that reminds me daily that despite proximity setbacks, a six-block squared walk starting south on Ashley sends me in the direction of Art: MOCA, our modern museum, and her Louisiana cuisine girlfriend NOLA are a fresh air of pride.  The new, improved, sprawling public Library cuts off the corner and then meets Chamblains Book Mine, the new gathering magnet, and home to the world’s best African Peanut Soup. Indochine Thai, The Next Gallery, and Zodiac Grill claim stake, as well as a righteous row of independent artists sharing – space, light, walls, and laughs – on Forsyth Street.  Before reaching the St. John’s river, the annually resuscitated Jacksonville Landing sits and our lovely, dedicated symphony hall venue: The Times Union Center for Performing Arts.  Ok. Your Broadway can beat that, but we can park for less than $50 to see an Artist Series show. Heck, I can walk for free!

Point is, I like my new digs. I am a downtown dweller, and don’t need to be reminded that I must drive yonder across bridges to over-populated, retail saturated, zoned neighborhoods to shop for my organic palette. I am content waking up each morning and gently rolling open rows of vertical blinds lining my Studio’s broad, horizontal window. Grinning at me daily are my two, tall, skinny friends: Wachovia and at &t shining those dimmed lit, lowercase alphas. Of course that’s not representative of the skyline our emerging metropolis boasts, but my unit owns a few view obstructions that matter me not. I like it.

Downtown Jacksonville is all that it is, not quite all that I need it to be, and everything local politicians condemn.  Don’t limit your visits to parades, festivals, JEA battles, and court appearances, and until you’ve called it home, be hesitant to deem it domicile hell to be amongst those who consciously choose to downtown dwell. I like it.

Penny Dickerson 2011

Note:  

  1. The Wachovia Building is now Wells Fargo
                
  2. The At & t Building is now Everbank
                
  3. And…the new courthouse (aka “The Parthenon”) is one block south.