poem

the year of the poem

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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…

Christmas exhaustion

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Eighty home-made
Christmas cards
for friends and clients
alike wing their way
across the world,
Russia, Poland,
Luxembourg, Italy.

Forty presents,
be-tissued, wrapped
with Father Christmases
on sleighs and in chimneys
carrying sacks, all
tied in (matching) ribbons,
cherry red and
snowy ice-blue.

Ill friends, one, two
three, visited with
cheer and gifts and
hugs (I didn’t lean
in too near).

Three family
dynamics
navigated, care,
honesty, tears,
grace and hope that
one day things might
change.

Four little niece-
and-nephews imagined,
researched, added to,
subtracted from, and
last-minute flash of
inspiration,
of course.

One carol service
invited to, sung at,
giggled in,
got distracted by
small children’s
wonder, and several
glugs of cooling
mulled wine in
too-warm weather.

Five invoices sent,
fingers crossed for
payment (no),
money switched
between accounts.
‘what d’you mean
five working days?’

One to-do list
half-crossed,
neighbours’ gifts,
tick, more ribbon,
tick, pine and
eucalyptus spray,
tick, but
packing, taxi,
picnic still to do
tomorrow morning.

One poem written.

My weariness
rests
on a bed of quiet
contentment.

 

Winter walk – question

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When I wrote ‘Winter walk‘ poem, I tried it with a final stanza to answer the poem’s questions. But then I could not tell if I had closed down the poem too much.

Here is the stanza I wrote, so you can judge for yourself.

If I make the world
stop for a moment,
and listen,
I can hear the sap
stirring, feel the
explosions of the
tiniest seeds,
almost reach out and touch
the promise of spring.