October 18, 2011

A Family Steeped in Creative Arts: Tub-Full Tuesday

I am blessed to come from a family of storytellers, writers, and readers. My maternal grandmother lined an entire room with books. My mom told bedtime stories to us as children from her imagination. They both taught us the love of reading and writing. But creative energy comes from Dad's side, too. My dad's oldest nephew, Marty Silverthorne, is a multi-published poet.

When my husband and I got married, I asked Marty to read an original poem made for us. No pressure! I promise to share that piece at a later date. I've been married sixteen years and moved many times, so I have to dig out the dust-covered wedding memories box!

I asked Marty how he started writing poetry. His response, "I fell in love with the music of poetry. I have always loved music. When I discovered poetry, it was a music I could write. It was a way to let memories shine. I love the old stories and come from a long line of storytellers, good and bad."

I am so thankful for generations of creativity... it truly fills my tub. I'm sharing one of Marty's poems today. Enjoy!

*****

Handiwork
He extends his arm, bent at the elbow,
fingers drawn, like he is reaching
for or giving away something.
He is speaking with his hands
like his father before him.

Everything I got, I got with these hands.
I quit the ninth grade and went

to work at Ed Moore’s Pure Oil.
He was a nasty bastard and I quit

working for him before I  killed him.
I drove my two-tone Ford home,
crying all the way to your mama
stretched out on the bed by the box fan
bloated with you, Boy.
She helped me bring myself together;
I went out and got a job before sunset.
That’s the longest I’ve ever been unemployed.
These hands have scraped to make a living;
all I’ve got I built with these hands.

Times ain’t always been this good but it
looks like they’re going backwards again.
With your mama’s help and the Lord above,
I’ll pull this plow as long as there’s land to bust.


His empty hands brim with sunshine,
outstretched arms appear weary now,
palms full of sunlight and waiting.


©2010 by Marty Silverthorne

Marty Silverthorne holds degrees from St. Andrews Presbyterian College and East Carolina University. He has published four chapbooks “Dry Skin Messiah,” “Pot Liquor Promises,” "No Welfare, No Pension Plan,” and “Rewinding at 40.”  Marty’s poetry has been published in many literary journals including Tar River Poetry, North Carolina Literary Review, St. Andrews Review, and Pembroke to name a few. Marty currently works as a Clinical Addiction Specialist in Greenville, North Carolina.

*****

I, too, love music, and I love the idea of poetry as music. Is poetry music to you?

6 comments:

JANU said...

Wonderful post.

Dana & Keith Newbrough said...

I have read several pieces of Marty's over the years and he continues to impress me as a beautiful and thoughtful writer. Great job!

Nana said...

I've known this remarkable man since he was 8 years old. He lives life to its fullest. His writing characterizes his passion for the things he observes, the hallmark of a true writer. This one is beautiful!
Angela Silverthorne

Tia Bach said...

Thanks everyone! I'm so grateful to Marty for letting me share his work.

Taslim Jaffer said...

That is a brilliant piece! I love how Marty talks about poetry being music! It's given me a new perspective. I have tried to write poetry on and off for many years and I think I have trouble with it because I am so concerned about the words. Maybe I need to feel/hear the lyrics, the melody, the ambience and then the words might come. I'll give that a try! Thanks for sharing!

Tia Bach said...

Thanks, Taslim. I truly feel blessed to come from a gifted family.

I appreciate you stopping by and commenting. Hope to see you again!