This is drop-in, no instructors present, all skills and fiber artists welcome.
Staff Poetry
In honor of National Poetry Month, Anza colleague Alex Wong has chosen to share a couple poems with you.
Starved For Wheat (A poem For Everyone With Gluten Intolerance)
I must look awful strange, sipping tea and staring at all the cakes and cookies piled high in Convenience stores and coffee shops. It's plain to see I'm starved for wheat, And that I'm silently cursing my tantalizing lot in life.
Because, it's not fair ... that I have to sit and starve on salad, While watching family and friends feast and feed to their hearts' content, And amuse myself by dreaming of delicious days gone by.
I miss having sandwiches for lunch, And cookies and milk before going to bed. I can't wake up anymore, to fresh pancakes on Saturday mornings, Or to warm pastries during the dash to school. I no longer go out for burgers and fries with friends, Or stroll down to the pizza parlor alone at night. And I'm not even allowed to have soup when I'm sick,
Or instant noodles when I'm broke.
Cheer up mom and dad always say - you'll be much healthier anyway. Look at how much weight you've lost, And your eczema's finally under control.
Of course I enjoy my replenished health. But unanswered cravings drive me insane, And I'm almost never full.
I always stop and stare, at sugary snacks when I'm at the grocery store, And gawk at strangers eating salty, buttery, or deep-fried comfort foods, Through the windows of every restaurant. It's plain to see I'm starved for wheat, And that I'm silently cursing my tantalizing lot in life.
Because, it's not fair ... that I have to sit and starve on salad, While watching family and friends feast and feed to their hearts' content, And amuse myself by dreaming of delicious days gone by.
I miss having toast with my afternoon tea, And buttered rolls alongside soup.
I can't wake up anymore, to Froot Loops and Frosted Flakes with Saturday morning cartoons, Or the joy of baking cupcakes with mom for a party at school. I no longer devour buckets of fried chicken with my childhood friends, Or step out for an after-dinner slice of pie with dad. I've had to forsake the soy sauce laden banquets of my native land. And I'm not even allowed to have soup when I'm sick,
Or instant noodles when I'm broke.
... Cheer up mom and dad always say, Before I can shed an after-dinner tear. You'll be much healthier anyway. Look at how much weight you've lost. And your eczema's finally under control.
Author’s Note: A very personal poem of mine. This is my first attempt at trying to capture my struggle with adapting to a life without gluten, and the sacrifices I've made to get rid of chronic health conditions. This massive diet change has improved my health dramatically, but sticking to the diet has been very hard on me physically, emotionally, and psychologically. I know I'm not alone in dealing with dietary frustrations, so I dedicated this poem to anyone else who struggles with a restrictive diet.
Graphite Passerines
I've always tried to draw pictures of birds from scratch.
Without formal training, I sketch and paint
Under harsh time limits and sometimes I close my eyes.
Never one to settle for less, I raised my hands up towards the sky
And crushed the colors of the rainbow
Into pieces of jewelry colored dust
That mingled with dazzling light from distant stars.
I colored my bird with this mixture of jeweled
Rainbows and shining stars,
But felt it wasn't bright enough
I grabbed the sun and moon, and used them for eyes.
Then I glazed my bird with whirling desert sands
And the first rain of spring,
Before drying it in warm summer winds.
Soon I had a phoenix, a bird unlike any I had tried to draw before.
A bird that glistened with every color under the sky,
But it was too heavy to fly, so it fell and broke into
A thousand pieces of jewelry colored dust.
Years and years of toil and work,
Turned futile before my very eyes.
But alas, not all is lost.
From my tears, there sprang a tiny little lark,
A timid bird, colored earthen brown and gray
That sang the sweetest song I'd ever heard
And so, little lark, I coax you out on your very first flight.
Be brave and bold, and sing sweet songs of joy.
Fly high, my baby bird, and touch the sky,
In my heart you'll never die.
Author’s Description: The passerine family is the largest of all orders of birds, including over half of all known species. They include wrens, crows, ravens, jays, and larks. I wrote this when I was feeling frustrated with my current lot in life. The phoenix the narrator tries to build reflects that ambition to have everything and be the very best. When he refuses to settle for anything less, he finds himself hugely disappointed. But his hard work has still paid off, for the lark at the end of the poem springs forth from the devotion and passion he's poured into creating birds. He accepts this creation - despite the fact that it's not the most fantastic bird in the world - and loves it with all his heart. The bird possesses it's own kind of beauty, and he's proud of the fruits of his labors.
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