National Poetry Month is winding down, and while I haven’t posted each day here on the blog, I’ve written a poem every day in April for VerseLove on Ethical ELA.
April 22nd was Earth Day. Host Emily Cohn invited poets to “remember an island: real, fictional, ancestral, or otherwise… Imagine or describe a world there.”
I have a favorite childhood memory about an island. I wrote a post about it seven years ago (Breakfast Island); this week I returned to it and condensed it into a poem.
Two takeaways: 1) Rewriting IS writing and 2) Less is more. I find the original post far too wordy now.
Here’s the revision.
*******
Island Gift
On a chilly gray dawn
my family piles into
my uncle’s motorboat
we are all together
speeding over the Severn
the grown-ups have decided
it would be fun to have
breakfast on the beach
my uncle knows just the place
a little island where people
sometimes stop off
I shiver in the lifejacket
until my teeth chatter
I am starving
how long
is this going to take?
turns out the island
is only a mound of sand
with a bit of scraggly brush
In the middle
I walk the entire edge of it
while the grown-ups
are building the fire
the sun is up, golden,
warming my cold skin
the gray Severn
is now sparking blue
What is this island’s name?
I ask my uncle
as sausage links begin sizzling
in a pan
It doesn’t have one
I have never heard of a place
not having a name
Why don’t the owners name it?
No one really owns this island…
it’s just a small place,
here in the river
I don’t know why
this makes me want
to cry
my uncle, turning the sausages,
squints up at me:
what is the matter?
It should belong to somebody
You’re right. I think
it should be you.
Congratulations!
You now own an island
my heart beats fast
because I know, right now,
that I want this island
to be mine forever
but
Do I have to pay for it?
my uncle laughs loud and long
(I will remember this
when the family
isn’t a family
anymore)
Since there’s no other owner
it’s free
someone is frying apples
the aroma rises
like incense from an altar
in thin blue smoke
vanishing in the breeze
I tell the island I love it
it whispers
that it loves me back
and I know
for this one morning
that I am the richest person
on Earth
I own an island
and it’s free
Photo: Paul VanDerWerf. CC BY
*******
thanks to Emily Cohn for the island invitation on VerseLove at Ethical ELA
an to Two Writing Teachers for the Tuesday Slice of Life sharing-place
lit bits and pieces 
Fran, I enjoyed reading your Island Gift again today, and the original post that you gleaned it from. When I read your poem on Saturday, I didn’t remember pausing for the beauty of these lines:
“someone is frying apples
the aroma rises
like incense from an altar
in thin blue smoke
vanishing in the breeze”
They add so much to this sweet and holy moment when you and the island loved each other.
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Thank you for your lovely words, Denise. You’re a true encourager! I recall thinking those fried apples were about the best thing I’s ever smelled or tasted, at the time. There is a certain hallowedness in the remembering.
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Wonderful picture book manuscript right here. My husband before he was my husband went on a canoe trip with his brother and named an island for me. I’d forgotten all about it. How special. It may be near you because I think it was the Nantahala River.
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How romantic, Margaret, to have an island named for you! The Nantahala is in the far western counties and I am in central NC – so, relatively near, in the scheme of things. I am delighted this memory resurfaced for you!
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All so lovely – precious thoughts, beautiful words, heartfelt emotions. I’ve never owned an island, but I am so glad you told us about yours.
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It was only a little sandbar really and not even my uncle’s to give – but I felt like a queen, at age six or seven or ever how old I was at the time. A truly beautiful place. I have wondered if it is still there.
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Oh my gosh! I missed this one somehow. You made me cry again. I am so glad that little island has such a mindful owner. Just beautiful, Fran!
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Thank you, Joanne, for your words and heart – so very appreciated, always. ❤
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I had to nod my head at your observation of previous writing; I look back on some of my earlier Slices and wince. I tend to get wordy over passionate topics; you’ve convinced me to try poetry to keep those posts concise!
This poem leaves nothing out. You’ve given us setting, plot, characters, emotions, and story arc. I could envision it as a StoryCorps animation!
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Thanks, Chris – I appreciate your words. Wouldn’t a StoryCorps animation be too fun!
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Loved reading this. The descriptive words put me right there shivering in the boat with you, feeling the golden warmth of the sun, and smelling the fried apples! A wonderful capture of a precious memory.
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What an amazing memoir poem, Fran! I can imagine your surprise that can own your island.
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