Rhythmic Expressions: Date Night

Last weekend, my husband asked me to go on a date with him on Friday. He asked me if I would be able to leave work on time. From this I gathered that this date had a time constraint. Other than that, I had NO CLUE what our date would be like (he’s usually very creative). Unfortunately, I didn’t leave work until an hour after my regular working hours and being a Friday and the last working day of the month, there was a lot of traffic on the roads.

He told me that we were going to a poetry workshop and it started at 5pm (at this time it was already 5:45). But we somehow managed to reach by 6pm. Even though we were an hour late, the instructors were still very accommodating. The lead instructor gave us an instrument (which to us just looked like a small drum) and told us that we were supposed to write about the sound we think the instrument will make without actually playing it and also to write about the physical appearance of the instrument. In addition to this, we were to write about the instrument as a person.


I have NEVER done any poetry classes outside of high school literature classes, much-less been asked to make a poem about an inanimate object. What did I get myself into????? After the whole 5 seconds of mental ‘freak-out’ I gathered my thoughts and started to put pen to paper (Bear in mind we had about ten minutes to do this exercise since we were so late). When time was up, we would have to share our poem with the class for them to provide feedback and share their favourite line. Read my poem aloud??!!! Scary stuff. I’ve never read anything I’ve written (fear of critique). But in that environment I was forced to in a really inviting and relaxed way. I didn’t have time to give it a title however, this was the result:

Her Earthy skin.
Her rugged texture befitting of a free spirit.
Locks like rope.
This Amazon Queen, firm enough to rule, yet her softness embodies Mother Nature.
She calls out to her subjects with a subtle chime that resonates within the soul.
Bold war cry.
Deep, penetrating roar.
Tower of Babel.
Covered in creepers.

After we all presented our poems, we were then asked to attempt to play the instruments. These were humorous moments. Our drum was in fact a Brazilian instrument called a Cuica. The sound that it produced was completely unexpected and did not fit our poetic descriptions at all.

Even though it wasn’t a major performance, it felt really exciting being able to deliver a poem and gain feedback. It was something new and different for me. I was able to peek outside my shell for a bit and be a part of a growing culture.

As with any relationship, my husband and I have our not so good moments. But I love him. He’s very thoughtful and I appreciate the fact that he took me to this workshop. In this shared experience, it felt like our souls did become one.


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