My talented writer friend, Angie Ledbetter, who lives in the swampity swamps of South Louisiana, and sees her world in wondrous ways, has taken my essay, “Golden Sparkled Dancer’s Cap,” and created this cool “visual Poetry” from it. She’s been doing this with other works, as well, and it’s fascinating and creative. I’ve put a copy of the image in my photos above—I hope you can read it, see it. Click on the image to enlarge it and it may be easier to see, however it is hard to read on the blog—you can’t get the words to see what she has done, what text she has highlighted to make a poem out of my essay, both visually and with my own words!
I asked her what “visual poetry” is, or what she is calling this thing she’s doing, and this is what Angie explained:
"Visual poetry, concrete poetry, treated text, book arts…whatever you call it, it’s addictive if nothing else. An amalgam of words and color, this form of poetry is also therapeutic for those who write in different styles and genres. Surprisingly, you don’t have to have specific artistic ability to enjoy and create new meanings from book pages, magazine picture and random words, or whatever else grabs your attention and can be glued to a piece of paper. Visual poetry also satisfies the heart of those who love the very idea of recycling in any form.
This example, using Kat’s Golden Sparkled Dancer’s Cap brought to mind flashing colors and wild abandon, much like the author and short story. Although the story was originally printed in WNCW magazine and in Rose & Thorn Literary e-zine summer 2008 issue, it has now found its way to my Sharpie madness, and will soon be in the hands of many high school Advanced Literature students in Baton Rouge as an example of creating the fine personal essay. It’s fascinating to see others’ interpretation of a writer/poet’s original work into new forms, and imagine all the new eyes who will see and enjoy it."
Here are the words she pulled from my essay to make the ‘poem’ in the image above:
Golden Sparkled Dancer’s Cap
I slide the golden dancer’s cap on my head
catch the light in the mirror
I lived in the identities heaped upon a person
the little girl with bare feet
that tries to look like everyone else
heavy cloaks to hide the fine mess I’m in
"For Sale, Woman, Cheap"
still dressing to hide from the world
a schizophrenic muddle
the dancer’s cap tells me
I can start again
This little essay is somehow all over. It started in Western North Carolina Woman Magazine, then went to the summer issue of The Rose & Thorn Literary Ezine, then it was read by Adnan Mahmutovic and the reading is on The R&T Podcast site, and there are a few other things that may be happening with this essay—of course, among them, Angie Ledbetter’s artistic interpretation.
I will soon return with more of Clementine. For those of you who haven’t been visiting, I am writing a novel draft right onto my blog—no editing, no over-thinking it, just writing it directly here and it shows up as it would be if I were writing a draft onto my word document. Clementine slips in and out of time—when she is called Clementine, she is an adult; when Clemmie, she is a young girl or woman.
(My old girl is still so greatly missed…my beautiful Kayla girl. After I spread my best canine friend’s ashes, I will know what is in this locked down box…the mystery will be revealed. Her ashes will fly in the wind, just as one day mine will fly in the wind.)