Part the Second of Pokey's adventures studying motherhood and poetry (aka herself) as an Associate at the Five College Women's Studies Research Center So there was Pokey, box of books and laptop in hand, settling into her office at The Center. Through the high plaster walls she could hear other women getting their nests in … Continue reading pokey finds the labyrinth
Tag: writer
pokey leaves purgatory
Time to pick up the thread of the last Birth of Pokey post—no, not those red pants again! The thread of how Pokey wriggled her way out of the little box she was in, not-so-affectionately known as writer’s block. If you’ve never had writer’s block, or its equivalent for your chosen work (bread that refuses to rise, … Continue reading pokey leaves purgatory
Pokey’s first interview: Katryna Nields
In honor of President’s Day Pokey is inaugurating her first Mama to Mama interview, featuring musician Katryna Nields. Katryna and her husband Dave, also an amazing musician, moved to our little road in 2000. I remember meeting her at one of our neighborhood parties: she was this beautiful, willowy column of a woman wearing a … Continue reading Pokey’s first interview: Katryna Nields
pie, publishing & swagger
When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing... Turns out, of the four-and-twenty blackbirds, 20 were men and only 4 were women! I know I promised to post the next installment of PM's journey, but an interesting conversation is bubbling up around a piece published by VIDA, Women in the Literary Arts, and I just … Continue reading pie, publishing & swagger
the birth of pokey, part II
In which Pokey becomes a Master of Regret and encounters Temporary Blindness. My friend Maya describes how she recently came across a photograph of herself at a party when her daughter was an infant. “I was wearing red pants! Red pants! What was I thinking? Who does that?” This, dear reader, is the question of … Continue reading the birth of pokey, part II
no place like home
click.click.click. In the poetry workshop I taught this fall we talked a lot about repetition and variation. We agreed that repetition can be a good thing in a poem, like an engine moving you forward when you think you might be stuck. It worked for Dorothy: there’s no place like home, there’s no place like … Continue reading no place like home
the pokey pledge
When I first imagined Pokey Mama, I didn’t see her as a blog, per se, at least in the sense of daily/frequent musings, updates, etc. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But I had a clear vision of telling a kind of serialized story: my journey through pregnancy into motherhood followed by the chaos … Continue reading the pokey pledge
Red Light, Green Light
In regard to posting a full-length essay with accoutrements on a weekly basis Pokey has given herself the green light to forgo the self-flagellation and instead allow for occasional blathering and newsy news in between the fabulousness of the longer posts, hence, the following items that may be of interest: Pokey Reads! Words will be … Continue reading Red Light, Green Light
And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
So sad I’ve been not to be here at Pokey Mama that I couldn’t stand to look at the little tab on my Favorites bar with the mini PM staring forlornly at me from way out in cyberspace. If not now, when? she asks plaintively, or sometimes, when feeling bullish (in the Hemingway sense of … Continue reading And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
bear, not tree
Of course I love them, they are my children. This is my daughter and this my son. And this is my life I give them to please them. It has never been used. Keep it safe. Pass it on. The Mother, Anne Stevenson I subscribe to a women’s poetry list serv, and this poem was … Continue reading bear, not tree
Amy Dryansky 