So not only did you teach me about writing memoir, you also taught me about reading and thinking about how others write memoir. Thank you so much! Rebecca

Accepting what is to come

You can’t change the direction of the wind, but you can adjust your sails.

Friday, March 25, 2011

JoAnn Dropp and I have an affinity for the same poets, so I know I will enjoy her class on Poetry Memoir. In her mid-forties, and married to an active duty member of the military, she is the mother of a seventeen-year-old girl and a twelve year-old son. It would seem that would be enough to keep anyone busy, but JoAnn recently completed a two-year program with Spalding University where she earned her MFA.

Twenty years ago she received her B.S. in English, and then went back for teacher certification in secondary English which enabled her to teach in high school.
She credits a wonderful poetry mentor in undergraduate school for motivating her to continue writing poetry until she could finally make it to grad school.

Now JoAnn works as an ESL (English as a Second Language) instructor for the Cobb County Georgia School district, and she is a personal editor.
“I had no idea so many people were searching for writing coaches and mentors,” she said. Even before she completed her graduate program she had two clients.

Her goal is to someday teach poetry and creative writing in a low-residency setting at a University. We are most happy to have this talented lady teaching at Writers Circle in Hayesville on Saturday, April 30, 10:30 – 4:30 PM.




While Watering the Flowers

One summer years ago
our small town was divided
by a local hit and run.
Not so much the hit,
these things happen,
but the run.
I was told while watering flowers
at a roadside market just outside town
how the driver stopped
to untangle the girl from her car,
then drove on home.

I clicked the nozzle to mist and murmured
poor girl, but far away inside me
imagined her unrehearsed plea:
You’ve got to believe me,
we’ve all travelled that unlit
stretch of ribbon at night.
My small children shivering
wanting only their beds.
I panicked. I’m…sorry.
I let the young cashier presume
my slow blink and sharp breath
equaled the town’s shared sorrow
but was lost in that familiar moment
between ordinary and
never the same.

--------- JoAnn Loverde Dropp

1 comment:

  1. The moment between ordinary and never the same=a metaphor for life if I ever read one! A truly universal poem.

    Once again, I wish I could manage to get there!

    ReplyDelete

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