Poetry Prompt no.6 - Touch

The poetry exercises I have been posting tend to be sparked from my own experiences in my day to day life. Lately I haven't quite found anything that sparked an idea, that was until today.

In one of my year 8 art classes I teach a student named Rachel. Rachel has Juvenile Batten's Disease. For those of your who are unaware, Juvenile Batten's Disease is degenerative neurological condition that results in a loss of vision, epilepsy, problems with speech, loss of muscle control, mental deterioration including possibly confusion and sometimes emotional problems.

When I first started teaching Art I would spend many hours trying to figure out how I could really get Rachel art making. I didn't want her just colour in on a page, I wanted her to experience many different forms of art. After a lot of research and of course trial and error, I came to the conclusion Rachel responded best to tactile art making. Over the last few months Rachel has been weaving, using a loom I made out of cardboard. By giving her different materials with different textures, she's able to visualise what she is making instead of just making art for the sake of it.

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So here is my challenge to you. Create a poem that is based on touch. Your poem can be about anything, you just need your words to create a tactile experience for the reader.

^ Wow, that's incredible about Rachel.

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You say I can't understand your
scars, but I do. They are the
archaeology of your soul as you
wrote in language without words, not
knowing how to cope with the
violence from your mind. I feel you as
contours of an ancient cave, your texture
rough, indents that foreshadow tragedies.
You are hieroglyphics that haven't been
decoded yet, as I try to understand
the raised bumps and cool creases
between the walls. You paint your
skin with velvet pens that are softer
and more delicate than the cashmere
sweaters I knitted for you, when my
knuckles cracked against poetry spines
and crescents moons that scraped
my heart like a nostalgic needle point
blade.

Your voice is swallowing bricks, you've
confiscated all means of communication -
as I feel the grit between your teeth,
chewing tobacco and cracked lips because
you thought winter was glued to your back.

You are the rugged terrain I never had
enough faith to walk on, my feet
a sword in a stone.

These scars will become smooth; your
skin will be made of feathers instead of
limestone and nails.

You will feel like summer breezes and
warm, smooth pavement, instead of
the stalactites that pierce your soul.

Cool that you discovered a way to reach Rachel.

Somehow I missed this prompt. Tomorrow I'll do it. (Rosaura's birthday today).

Mel, its good that you were able to reach out to Rachel.

Sorry I missed out on these postings...will try it out!