attention

year of the poem – thoughts

~ extraplorer ~ 1 Comment

Having christened 2016 the year of the poem, I have been continuing to ponder the actions that will honour the name. How can I weave a path that eschews the rigidity of pre-planned milestones and preempts the risk of listlessness?

A living structure is starting to emerge.

It turns out that somewhere in me, a poetic year is unfurling itself. I want to talk about poetry, I want to ask people about poems, I want to explore poem things. The year of the poem is on its way seemingly of its own accord. Milestones even as an idea are already redundant and floaty listlessness seems remote as the momentum gathers itself.

While it is still early in the year, I am coming to understand that the year of the poem declared itself. It was going to happen and I merely announced its arrival.

So instead of worrying about the year of the poem becoming a place of constraint, or requiring a battle of wills (‘the year of the poem‘), or a list of ‘poetry resvolutions‘, I discover a curious peace, requiring nothing more than my own love and attention.

Some more small notes:

* An interesting question occurred to me:  What if my mother (and fan of extraplorer) was not complimentary about my writing merely from motherly duty, but because she –  an adult woman lover of literature in her own right – really saw a gift?

* What if I was not excited about my own poetry merely because I love myself (ego, ha!) but because I could recognise something good there?

I do not usually think of myself as someone who is unduly self-critical, but as I give myself a little shake, I notice the dust of a million tiny arguments belittling my writing drifting away from me.

ode to a bobble hat

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There’s a bobble
kind of wobble
to the walker
on the cobbles.

If you oggle
at a bobble,
it will never
be a gobble.

Not a woggle
nor a goggle,
not mistaken
for a toggle.

There’s a wobble
to a bobble
that can only
be a bobble.

Not a giggle,
nor a wiggle,
and not a hint
of wibble.

There’s a wobble
to a bobble
that can only
be a bobble.

If you snog-gle,
if you snuggle,
you will never
feel a tuggle.

There’s a wobble
to a bobble
that can only
be a bobble.

the year of the poem

~ extraplorer ~ 2 Comments

Almost the minute I pressed ‘publish’ on the post discussing ‘poetry resvolutions‘, I felt the sick feeling of having overcommitted myself instead of maintaining a ‘free spirit’ feeling about the year.  Why make something  a ‘project’ that is perfectly happy being a joy?  Why imprison something fleeting and mysterious in a cage of expectation?  I contemplated deleting the post, liberating myself from my own too-quickly imposed concept.

Well, I haven’t taken the post down yet.  Instead, I decided that I will be in charge of what the ‘year of the poem’ means to me, and it will certainly not involve anything that compromises joy.

The idea of the ‘year of the poem’ is to be an enabler, a permission giver.  By orientating my attitude toward poetry, I make it more likely that I will devote space in my life to poems, words, silence, story, experience, contemplation.  These things bring some of the deepest joy I experience in myself, a different joy to the joy I experience in the presence of other people, a very valid and precious happiness of my own.  I know from my observations so far that space for poetry is the quickest to disappear and the slowest to return. It is easily overwhelmed by to-do lists, travel, chores, demands and needs. While I don’t want to slip into a battle metaphor I do want to be alert to everything I can do to create a little space for poetry whenever it wants.

Like a pet, maybe!

(I am now completely distracted by the idea of poetry as a pet, and a thousand thought avenues of pondering whether this is a good or bad metaphor for poetry itself.)

Come back, come back!

I’m still not quite ready to make resvolutions (maybe I will put a question mark in the post title to let myself off that hook), but I can report that I have so far found two possibilities – a WordPress poetry boot camp in April, and a series of residential poetry courses.  I have asked my poet friend to recommend which of these he thinks would be the best for me.

Two small notes:

* A friend sent a message to say that they wish for a poem to be published in 2016.  Thank you!

* I read a poem which included the line ‘you are truly the poetry of God’ – a phrase of such power I had to put the book down. What could that possibly mean for my life? For all our lives?

So I think these things are the kinds of things that the year of the poem means, and I will try to be open to new ones and to growing and to what is still unknown…

 

poetry resvolutions

~ extraplorer ~ 2 Comments

I have decided to (secretly) pronounce my 2016 the ‘year of the poem’. I have nearly finished the book project which I have been working on for a number of years (along with my other work). There will be more spare time, and some of this I want to devote to a more sustained rhythm of poetry writing.  I have been inspired by my friend’s book to explore more of my creative history and to be braver about actively doing the things that will make me a better poet.  This includes things like writing every time I have even a small idea, sending more poetry to competitions and finding more places where I will receive advice from people I trust and respect.  I might even host a reading, although the ‘look at me’ nature of this concept makes me squirm.

Directly approaching poetry makes me feel a bit worried.  My experience of poetry is a lot like looking at the stars only out of the corner of your eye, so that you really see them sparkle whereas if you look straight on they diminish.  I feel a risk that if I really consider poetry on purpose it will run away and I will be left with the options of abandoning it with fake insouciance or chasing it down like an errant date. ‘Call me! Text me!’ (etc).

But not approaching it directly also has risks.  I feel the risk that the poems are a bit floaty; even that they show signs of neglect. With more input they might become more muscular and vital. I want to balance the tenderness of my writing with real fire and I feel that for this they may need extra help.

These are the kinds of things that the year of the poem might help me explore.

In the spirit of The Happiness Project, I am going to decide on some poetry resvolutions. I have not thought these through yet but I will be back with some options and a decision. The resvolutions need to be the right shape; not too restrictive so I get unhappy and not too vague so I don’t grasp them.  I have decided to call them resvolutions (silent v or silent s as you wish) because I hope over time the impact of the small steps will be large.

Happy New Year of the Poem!

 

 

flat Christmas moment – commentary

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I have updated ‘flat Christmas moment‘ with two short additional lines. When I wrote the poem, at the very moment of completing the last line, the door did open and my parents returned from their walk in the woods.  I hummed and ha’ed about leaving the moment adrift, or bringing it to the same halt as experienced by the poet.  On balance I think the change of pace of the return of people adds an element of wry humour and a greater sense of reality. After all, the poem is about a moment, not life drifting on forever.

But I am open to new thinking…