Memoir Writing 101

By Elizabeth Aharonian Moon

The day the live poet came to our memoir class

We looked at his chubby face, at his eyes, candescent

as  he read his poems from a fat notebook, marked with rips of paper.

And we listened as he spoke and wrote words on the old chalk board

clicking the t’s, the E’s, the H’s, noisy and messy

all rushing downward.

We had to tilt our necks to read his notes;

We had to lift our chins and tilt our heads (again)

as we listened to his words:

     
     Write what is true, he wrote and said

     Write what you know and then some, he said and wrote

     Write about loss and love

     teachers and bicycles

     Write about home and away

     Write about the quicksand in your lives.

April 19, 2013 – Boston Marathon  

by Lauraine Alberetti Lombara

The greening marsh welcomes a crane,

Stark white on the inlet – no ice remains.

Vocal robins, cardinals, a nuthatch

All come north for winter has fled.

Our Vernal Equinox heralds new life:

Lush growth, balmy days, sensuous nights.

Paschal rites – colors purple and green,

Asparagus and aubergine.

Expectant moments full of wonder,

Then bomber madness startles like thunder.

Here the terror has begun,

Lives are shattered as people run.

Prayer-filled days, nights of unease,

Help us God! One hears the pleas.

Darkness need not last forever,

Hope is for a life made better.

Dawn arrives with rays of light;

Pathways marked for sight and right.

The sun is warm, the sky so blue,

Bulbs bloom brightly. We must, too.

The 5:35 p.m.

by Mary Higgins

Sitting on the platform, waiting for the train, 

Far from my favorite past-time, I consider it a strain. 

Wasted time is how I view it, and furthermore, I freeze! 

Clothed just like an Eskimo to protect me from a breeze.

Crammed in little boxes that roll on wheels of steel, 

people coming home from work, so hungry for a meal.   

Most everyone’s exhausted;it’s rare when someone talks

Passengers are resting, as the train car gently rocks.

The start of evening song as the day comes to a close 

Each passenger embarking, waking from a simple doze. 

To me it’s like a lullaby with pauses on the way 

A cadence that is slowing, the close of another day.

Mary Higgins Ⓒ 2015

The House of Tomorrow
by Liz Ciampa

The house of Tomorrow
Holds hope for all:
Its cabinets lay bare,
Ready to be filled with life.

I look forward to that house
For you both, as I stand still
And stable here. 
I cannot go with you,

But I can guide you,
Direct you there.  So today
I imagine you as grandmothers,
Looking back on life together,

Laughing.  You will remember me
With love and hope; I will remember
Your eyes dancing as
I entertain you

With mobiles and baby books
And your favorite teddy bears.


(Ciampa, Liz.  Good for Everyday Use.  Boston, MA: Big Table Publishing Co., 2012. p. 35. Print.)