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When a poem refuses to speak its mind...

1/29/2015

Sometimes, a poem knows what it wants to say, says it, and done, but now and then a poem will meander indecisively for a time in search of itself. I am now engaged in a poem that simply will not resolve!

About three months ago, I had an idea that seemed to be pretty cut and dry. "It starts like this, it goes like that, and it ends here." But, no. It resisted all of my attempts to corral it into a nice, short piece.

"I'm not done, yet!" it yelled at me. "Okay, okay!" I replied. So, I started over from about the fourth stanza, and I waited. When nothing more came of it, I closed the saved file and walked away.

Every so often, I revisit that poem, and listen for any inkling that it might have more to contribute, but mostly it sits quietly. A sentence chimes in with promise, once or twice, and then ... and then silence.

At some point, I came across a quote by John Keats, who said "My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk." Well, I am no monk, but I'm thinking that he had his proportions just about right.

In fact, the reverberations that play in my head when I ask, "Now what?" dramatically dwarf my impatient pleas. Suddenly, there comes the tease of yet another line, and then I'm back to waiting.

I have been here before. My Fox poem, (in Echoes l), took a full three weeks to complete. It, too, teased me along. And so did Drums of Doom, (in Echoes ll), which came in lovely little spurts over time.

But this one, about a piratess, has been ever so slowly seeping out over such a long time. When an line or an idea emerge, I am exhilarated, yet I wonder if it's worth all this dangling on promises.

So, what's this writer to do when met with such resistance? Since forcing words or ideas where they wouldn't naturally occur comes off as, well, obviously so, and when all cajoling fails, it's best to just wait.

In the meantime, I turn to other, less fickle poems that are in the works. I find it immensely helpful to have several projects going at one time, especially so when I finish some of them along the way.

At this moment, my Piratess is halfway through it's fourth page!

Image: metro.co.uk

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Interpreting what the heart sees ...

1/21/2015

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"Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye." So said H. Jackson Brown, Jr, the author of Life's Little Instruction Book. This couldn't be more true of writing poetry. I can attest to that.

Ah, but then there is the task of putting into words what it is that the heart sees, and I for one am often surprised by the words that flow from the tip of my pen. "Wow! Is that what I've been feeling?"

Then again, I know many poetry enthusiasts, whose hearts resonate deeply with the poems that they read, but who sadly lament that they are unable to articulate their own feelings and thoughts into poetry.

So, I wrote a ten-part series a while back, titled A Key To Writing in Rhyme, which was an attempt to encourage and equip these poetry lovers so that they might consider giving poetry composition a try.

In any event, once that which is in my heart begins to coalesce into
words and, at some point, lay there on the page where I can see them, it's all that I can do to follow along and hone them into poetry.

I get that this might smack of a do it yourself therapy session, which it sort of is, but it is also so much more. The insights, ideas, and associations that emerge during this process are not just about me.

I realize this every time someone reads my work and says ,"I feel that, too!" And sometimes, their perceptions go well beyond the words I've written, revealing an even broader scope of its meaning.

To me, poetry is communal. It is something inclusively shared between the poem, the poet, and the reader, very like a shared heartbeat, where we partake of that which is invisible to the eye.

And, it's a lot less expensive than therapy.

Image: somewhere on tumblr.com

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Research = imagination ... what?

1/13/2015

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Albert Einstein, who attributed much of his work to intuition and inspiration, once said that, "Imagination is the highest form of research." So, did he spend hours on end just staring into space?

Well ... according to his daughter, Einstein would play the piano whenever he hit a dead end, or a seemingly insurmountable problem. Music enabled his theoretical physics? I had no idea!

I, for one, I am more easily inspired by works of art, and I've found a treasure trove of inspiration in my husband's paintings. They have filled my mind with ideas, feelings, and an almost palpable presence.

I cannot help but articulate these visual experiences as poetry. Such work is born of a symbiotic relationship between our respective mediums. It is by way of this that I kind of get what Einstein meant.

Alas, I would do well to focus on these paintings during the dry spells when I have a hard time coming up with something to write ... but I tend to neglect this, even though his art adorns our every wall.

However, now that I've read and explored this quote from Einstein, I won't be quite so prone to forget that I have such a ready and ample source of inspiration ... making for a lot less whining on my part.

This "relationship," between my husband's art and mine, has worked both ways. For instance, a paining that he did of Emery, though inspired by my poem, is a most unique interpretation of my piece.

When one such as we is immersed in the experience of a painting, a poem, or even in playing a piano, the imagination gets fed, and freed ... and loosed to create something that has not existed before.

Thank you, Einstein!!!

Image: digest.bps.org.uk

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Back from a short seaside Winter break.

1/4/2015

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Apologies for my unannounced week away. Having no "local" family to spend the holidays with, my husband, our daughter, and I opted to treat ourselves to a few night's stay at a favorite seaside location which, unfortunately, afforded us scant access to the Internet. Oops!

Traveling, even fairly locally, involves removing oneself from familiar norms. But, can this also be said of spending abundant time with someone who is vastly different that oneself? Well, I can personally attest to this.

I have come to know many individuals along the way whose voiced perceptions and involuntary reactions make me feel as if I am visiting another country ... which tends towards a sense of culture shock.

culture shock n. A condition of confusion and anxiety affecting a person suddenly exposed to an unfamiliar culture or milieu. The American Heritage® Stedman's Medical Dictionary.

Experienced and efficient hosts share a specific skill set: they can easily recognize when a guest feels out of place, and will graciously make them feel comfortably welcomed. The best at this do so effortlessly.

But, what about the experience of reading a novel, or a poem, for the first time? As with any unfamiliar environment, which this usually is, there is a bit of a lag between the initial exposure and actually tuning in.

A proper introduction, followed by ready clarifications along the way, will facilitate this easily in conversation. However, when words are left to explain themselves, things can, and sometimes do, go awry.

Technical documents, when written for consumers, require that the information be translated, i.e., simplified for the less, or non-technically inclined. This work is generally performed by technical writers.

Unfortunately, I have read, and written, pieces which assumed that the reader would automatically “get it,” as if the concepts and elements in the piece were universally understood. Occasionally, they were not.

It is all too easy for me to forget that I only really live in my own head, where everything makes perfect sense. And so, I am ever grateful for my editors, who are quick to point out any ambiguities they find in my poems.

I invite you to do so, as well.

Image: www.whenworkworks.org

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When a poem refuses to speak its mind...

Interpreting what the heart sees ...

Research = imagination ... what?

Back from a short seaside Winter break.

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