Thursday, September 23, 2010

Poetry Friday: Shoes (Just for fun!) and A Write Sisters Contest

So, what's up with women and shoes anyway?  Not all women go Gaga over them.  I didn't for a good long time, but now (thanks to my tall, handsome shoe-loving boyfriend), I am a-flutter whenever I see a great shoe. (Lady G's do not fall into this category!)

You can always find poems -- sometimes good, sometimes not -- online  There are a number of self-published poems out there about shoes.  Check them out -- they just may look good on you.

Enter our book give-away contest below where you could win a chance to read about women who clearly left big shoes to fill.

I, The Shoe

As a shoe am I,
Textured with flesh.
Worn where I lean,
Oft without polish,
But never unclean.
I rely on my sole to carry me through,
All of my other bits rely on it too.
It withstands the hardships of any weather,
Has taken its beatings more than the leather,
It remains unseen until I look,
Reassuringly there ‘neath each step that I took.

The previous poem was written by Tina Louise (no, not that Tina Louise).  The one who publishes her poetry here.

Ode to Pablo's Tennis Shoes 

They wait under Pablo's bed,
Rain-beaten, sun-beaten,
A scuff of green
At their tips
From when he fell
 In the school yard.
He fell leaping for a football
That sailed his way.
But Pablo fell and got up,
Green on his shoes,
With the football
Out of reach.

Now it's night.
Pablo is in bed listening
To his mother laughing
to the Mexican novelas on TV.
His shoes, twin pets
That snuggle his toes,
Are under the bed.

He should have bathed,
But he didn't.
(Dirt rolls from his palm,
Blades of grass
Tumble from his hair.)
He wants to be
Like his shoes,
A little dirty
From the road,
A little worn
From racing to the drinking fountain
A hundred times in one day.

It takes water
To make him go,
And his shoes to get him
There. He loves his shoes,
Cloth like a sail,
Rubber like
A lifeboat on rough sea.

Pablo is tired,
Sinking into the mattress.
His eyes sting from
Grass and long words in books.
He needs eight hours
Of sleep
To cool his shoes,
The tongues hanging
Out, exhausted.

                --Gary Soto

Find Gary Soto's website here.

Here's the deal with the contest -- match the Write Sisters with their shoes.  Seven Sisters. Two pairs of shoes. You can find our pictures here.

You'll be entered to win a book from The Notable American Women series published by Apprenticeshop Books. Books in the series to date include New Hampshire, Massachusetts, California, Texas, with more on the way.

Ties will be determined by a drawing. If there are no correct entries, we'll enter everyone's entry in a drawing.  Somebody will win, so be sure to step up and play.  Contest closes at midnight on October 1, 2010.

Send your entry (one per person), to The Write Sisters at this address:

Poetry Friday is being hosted by the shockingly clever Karen Edmisten over at Karen Edmisten.



What's wrong with Lady Gaga's shoes? They're scrumptious--just like her meat outfit.

Mur said...

Spoken like a true omnivore, Diane! Go ahead, all, enter the contest!

Author Amok said...

I *love* shoes. One of my favorite poetry workshops for kids is writing shoe-odes (after Gary Soto's Ode to Pablo's Tennis Shoes). It's a blast.

I'm Jet . . . said...

Thanks for the new-to-me Gary Soto poem, Laura. I decided to go with it instead of the one I had there. It's fabulous.

And, Diane, have you noticed the resemblance of Lady G's shoes (an Alexander McQueen design) to the nose of a Bull Terrier (General Patton's breed of choice)?


Author Amok said...

You're welcome! It's a great one for discussing metaphor with kids. Those shoes -- twin pets that we find crashed out under the bed at the end of the poem. They GET it!

Diane Mayr said...

Janet, I noticed the resemblance after seeing the two photos on your blog. Are you starting up again?

I'm Jet . . . said...

Only posting occasionally, Diane. Busy writing my next books, and blogging so totally takes away from my focus.

Charlie said...

Oh, yay! I won! Thanks for the fun contest. What a hoot. Thanks again.

C.K. Volnek