I Had A Poetry Teacher Once

     I had a teacher once. She lifted me out of my creative poverty. The poems came more easily then, and I judged them less. Shelley Tucker (Writing Poetry) was that teacher. She welcomed a motley group of poets and potential poets into the gorgeous studio behind her house in Ballard. We removed our shoes and drank "poetry tea" (Good Earth's original -- or maybe decaf) -- it's earthy, cinnamon sweetness delighting our tongues. She also had a second teapot, usually filled with a ginger tea that left a tang on the tongue. Hot tea for hot poems. There were between 8 and 12 of us gathered around a large table. We had the freedom to write whenever we wanted, and were urged to be as generous with praise as we wanted to be, leaving heavy criticism (unless the poet asked for it) outside of the sacred space.
       Shelley became my mentor. Her workshops were magical because she had an abundance of love, not just for the craft of poetry, but for the energy and beauty that lived in the "ordinariness" of our words. Her workbooks were not necessarily  only templates, and the exercises in them were not required -- but were places to jump off from, maps to the landscape of our souls.
       Shelley gave me permission to use her materials (Write From The Source workbooks) in my own workshops, and I did use them a couple of times, but haven't yet had the COURAGE or space to do so again. I can come up with all kinds of excuses why, but the main reason is that I doubt I can carry it off as brilliantly as she did. Hopefully, though, one day I will give it a shot.
         Looking back, Shelley's workshops saved me for many years. I feel so grateful to her for showing me how abundant creativity is, if I just take that first word and put it on the page.