Billy Collins is one of the first poets I lighted on while foraging to find poetry that spoke to me.

In my search to improve my writing, I sought read writers whose writing allowed me to hear their messages. The idea of constantly appealing to others for decoding is not appealing to me. I prefer to read through the lines, sift through my knowledge base, and query the verses.

Trolling the poetry shelves at my local Barnes & Noble, the first thing that caught my eye, of course, were the titles. First one gem than another. Finally, I was mugged by The Art of Drowning ©1995, by Billy Collins. The title caught hold of my imagination, and I immediately had to know what that title meant.

After reading a few of the poems, I made the happy discovery that it was easy for me to be swept up in his lines-become-the-breeze of relating. And so I figured out that not all poets write to befuddle and confound me into giving up. That was about ten years ago. And I’ve enjoyed reading and hearing his poetry ever since.

Below you can listen to Billy Collins reading The Litany, one of my newer favorites, from The Trouble with Poetry ©2005

While reading through Ballistics ©2008, I found this jammed between the pages.

Inspirational Writers

Billy Collins makes me
want to write;
Lucille Clifton makes me
retire my poet’s pen and paper.
Sometimes
they swap inspirations.

© 2008 Shari Lynne Smothers

Billy Collins’ poems make me work in good ways, to understand his meaning. He tells me about beautiful things and simple treasures in the small moments. And he can make me laugh out loud, like in The Lanyard. His writing draws me in until I’m almost looking through his eyes, and I can see the world with new eyes, and new appreciation.

Below are just a few of his poems I’ve enjoyed, that I was able to find online.

• The Art of Drowning from The Art of Drowning ©1995
• Directions, from The Art of Drowning
• Forgetfulness, from Questions About Angels ©1991
• The Lanyard, from The Trouble with Poetry ©2005

Many of the poems in Collins’ collections are unrhymed, free verse, and are subtly rhythmic. Collins writes accessible poetry. He paints lovely, intricate latticework, detailed and strong enough for readers to cross over to that place where understanding is there for the sharing. Here’s one from The Apple That Astonished Paris.

Etymology

They call Basque an orphan language.
Linguists do not know
what other languages gave it birth.

From the high window of the orphanage
it watches English walking alone to the cemetery
to visit the graves of its parents,
Latin and Anglo-Saxon

Some poetry readers and writers may not appreciate this quality, preferring instead to draw blood from us and themselves. I am of a different ilk. I try not to share my poems that no one else will get except for me and my best friends. I think when a writer publishes, the goal is to impart something comprehensible and meaningful for her and for we readers to share. Billy Collins accomplishes this very well for me. So, I thought I’d say so.

One of Collins’ books, Sailing Alone Around the Room ©2001, is a nice selection of poems from older collections, The Apple That Astonished Paris (1988), Questions About Angels (1991), The Art of Drowning (1995), and Picnic, Lightning (1998).

As National Poetry Month 2010 comes to a close, I think of this important voice that has gone from this life. Selfishly, indeed, I will miss her. I was originally going to post this in early February. Time got away from me and then poet, Lucille Clifton, passed away. That threw me for a bit. Now, as I’m getting back on track, I think it works to post this now.

For Lucille Clifton

birth: June 27, 1936   death: February 13, 2010

The poetry of Lucille Clifton influenced me greatly. Her wit and rhetoric, and rhythm in delivery are such that they keep me reading and returning to her work. This National Poetry Month, I think on her more often since there are no new words to come, since she is newly gone from us—from me.

Lucille Clifton embraced her gift for poetry, and fortunately we have it to relish, enjoy and learn from. Her poems are prayers, celebrations, indictments, remembrances, and observations. So much more and so moving. Her work embodies the life and times of an entire culture through the eyes of one who was born to see. And I am better for having read her accounts. As, her talent inspires me to strive to improve my skill for poetry.

I want to share with you one of my many favorites of her poems, from her award winning collection Blessing the Boats: New and Selected Poems 1988-2000, © 2000. It has no capitalization, which is how Ms. Clifton writes them.

study the masters

by Lucille Clifton

like my aunt timmie.
it was her iron,
or one like hers,
that smoothed the sheets
the master poet slept on.
home or hotel, what matters is
he lay himself down on her handiwork
and dreamed. she dreamed too, words:
some cherokee, some masai and some
huge and particular as hope.
if you had heard her
chanting as she ironed
you would understand form and line
and discipline and order and
america.

I first came across Blessing the Boats, thanks to my friend Kirk Byron Jones. I was so amazed by her writing and the way she was speaking to and teaching me, directly. I often write back to what I read—I believe that’s what margins are for. I am not a critic so much as I just like what I like. And when it moves me I’ll put it in the margin. In the margin of the above poem I wrote, WOW. That was all I dared write. Later, in the back of her book, I wrote:

After reading Lucille Clifton

I am awed and inspired
but first daunted. Before
inspiration to pick up my pen
takes over me,
the dauntingly simple profundity
overwhelms me.
And I am knocked speechless
from mouth and pen
to utter any word.

© 2003 Shari Lynne Smothers

Some years earlier, Bonnie Fastring gave me Clifton’s book Good Woman: Poems and a Memoir 1969-1980, © 1987, which I returned to with renewed interest. Since then I have read and loved several of her other collections too. Hers are verses I revisit in good and bad times, to be enthralled, consoled and inspired by her messages, and by her talent for weaving the words.

If you’ve never come across Lucille Clifton’s writing, I definitely recommend you get to know her poetry. If you like the poem above, do read more, and listen to her readings. Visit the links below to find out a bit more about the writer and her works. And always a good trip, visit your local library if you want to read more before buying a collection. Enjoy. And come tell me about it, if you get a chance.

Addendum: You can hear more from Lucille Clifton on YouTube. Here’s another I really like, “won’t you celebrate with me” from The Book of Light, © 1993.

• Article: Interview of Lucille Clifton in 1999 at Poets & Writers
• Brief bio at Poets.org
• Lucille Clifton from Neil Reid at Bearly Audible

I was doing my usual Monday poetry surfing. I checked in to Read Write Poem to make a new friend, and of course that led to all sorts of links. Through several sites, I found myself on the Poetry.org site and I thought about my poet for this month, Charles Bukowski. I have two collections including what matters most is how well you walk through the fire. These are recent collections, (within the last 5 years), compiled by Linda Lee Bokowski. I return to them repeatedly and so I thought it was time to share my affinity here.

The Madness of Genius

Charles Bukowski, 1920 – 1994
I’m drawn inexplicably to his poetry, his story, his countenance, since I first came across him some eight years. He shared the truth of who he was, without apology, and that is enticing. In an interview with Linda Lee Bukowski, I saw glimpses of the poet, the scary ominous parts we don’t really want to touch—even while we may enjoy his writing. It’s the raw truth that I might touch that scares me, and yet I’m compelled to keep watching and reading, to see what I might of this artist that “the critics just don’t like.”

It was a bad idea to start my research, since I had to get ready for a meeting, but I couldn’t help myself. When I got to his page’s I found that Poet.org had posted this poem of his, so you want to be a writer? (You should go read it, right now—and come back.)

Now, I don’t agree with everything he says in this poem, so you want to be a writer? (If I did agree with everything that would mean I should put down my pen, because I do need to edit, and perhaps get edited, to reach the right word.) Still, I understand something about the passion and the drive that forces writing to be written and hands that are so compelled. I suffer from a similar affliction, this compunction to write at all costs, risking being shredded by critics, banned by friends and family.

From the information I’ve perused, Bukowski’s life seemed to be fraught with pressures he railed against, even when he was so intoxicated until it showed in his face. Even when he wanted to let go of poetry, it didn’t let go of him. When he stopped writing, in 1946, the writer of the Poets.org bio stated he went on a ten year drinking binge. And so it makes me question: What raw truths does the genius see that make him look away? When he can’t tear himself away, what is so overpowering that it makes him anesthetize himself against seeing it clear-headed and focused, seemingly ever again? Are all the greats a little mad?

John Martin, founder of Black Sparrow Press, who plucked Bukowski from one obscurity to another, understood that the writer would not have mainstream appeal. Still he knew he had befriended someone with an important gift that would be well received by it’s own offbeat audience. Adam Kirsch writes in The New Yorker, “He is one of those writers whom each new reader discovers with a transgressive thrill.”

Is his writing any good really? Yes.

Reading through and listening to the uncomfortable parts of his life, I still appreciate his writing. I still laugh out loud or hurt, reacting as his poems elicit. I still want to see the world he illustrates in his verses. His words depict life in plain text so you easily visualize. And I think it’s that hypnotic simplicity of plain text that draws you in and plants you his shoes to receive his life on his terms.

Some critics didn’t like Bukowski: the unctuous man who owned his excessive drinking habit, gambling and carousing; maybe his writing, maybe his arrest record. Maybe they didn’t like his life story. And they may have valid points in there too. Some of his writing may have been improved if he took the time to review, edit, work at writing. Either way, I remain a fan, because I like what I like. And since I’ve enjoyed his poetry, I need to read what he’s written in other genres too.

Something Extra

In the same vein of the above poem, about being fully invested in what you do, is another of his poems called roll the dice. Listen to this reading by Bono.

Further reading:

Apparently, there are quite a lot of websites dedicated to Charles Bukowski and his work. Whether in whole or in part, you will find sites or pages on sites that offer Bukowski information, insights, and criticisms. Do a search to see what’s out there. Visit your library or bookstore to read his writing. If you decide to look him up, I hope you find something you enjoy.

Come by and let me know if you liked his writing.

Articles included:

• “Bukowski, Charles – Introduction.” Short Story Criticism. Ed. Justin Karr Editor. Vol. 45. Gale Cengage, 2001. eNotes.com. 2006. 11 Jan, 2010
• “Smashed” by Adam Kirsch, The New Yorker.
• “Charles Bukowski”, Poets.org
• “The Linda Lee Bukowski Interview.” By by Bradley Mason Hamlin and Gary Aposhian. Mystery Island Publication. 2008