I met a woman once
a writer of science fiction,
who invited me to her
writing group.
She spoke with vigor
and animation, prodding,
querying my affinity for verse,
explaining her aversion. Why poetry? was in her
countenance. As though
it didn’t appear to suit me in the least.
Said she’d once thought
herself a poet
because she was sad
and broken-hearted.
She met a man,
got happy again.
And with her aloneness
so did depart
her poetic comportment.
You may have seen the title, Pebbles in My Shoes, or read poems from my book on this site in 2008. Now you can purchase the book directly from me. You can read more on my work website.
This is where I will make available future titles, too. All part of my mega plan to spread my verses far and wide. Really, it was because I was doing some research for a friend that I finally got around to doing this thing that I’ve been thinking of for years.
Visit The Word ‘Mage book page for details. Clicking the book cover will take you to the bottom of that page where you can click the link order it via Paypal.
So long away until
hardly do I
know where
to re-enter in
to my
favored writing space.
Still, here it is
lame perhaps
as any attempt
I might make
to excuse my absence.
This small sharing
brings me back in
to move forward
on sharing ideas
that were the brush strokes
over the work that
consumed my days.
The words came and passed
in my time spent
studying other things.
Slowly, now, they make me aware
they still want their say.
Thankfully
I have this space
to give them room and permission
to move off the page
to the screen,
and on into cyberspace.
Today, I’m renewed as
I carve a new space
in my days
for releasing the verses
that breathe
in such synchronicity
with me until
they appear to
breathe for me.
I shouldn’t try but here’s my excuse: I didn’t have to stop all the poem posting. The truth is, I really wanted the rest from the mad posting of April. I’ve been in a training program, studying and reading since May. My plan is to take the A+ certification exam soon and pass it the first try—it’s a goal.
As much as I wanted the break, I relish my return and the chance to push the Publish button once again. My apologies for it being so rough, but I’m a little rusty.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
UPDATE: 3.17.2010 I’ve added a couple of links, to the guidelines at Poetic Asides and the link to receive a poem a day in your email from Poets.org. 3.30.2010 I’ve added the link to the RWP pledge post, also in the sidebar.
April is National Poetry Month. I’m on time this year—for me anyway. So get ready to read about great online poetry sites to experience. Today, I want to share with you the ways I have found to write in community.
A bit about National Poetry Month:
Inaugurated by the Academy of American Poets in 1996, National Poetry Month is now held every April, when publishers, booksellers, literary organizations, libraries, schools and poets around the country band together to celebrate poetry and its vital place in American culture. Thousands of businesses and non-profit organizations participate through readings, festivals, book displays, workshops, and other events.
There’s also a more detailed Q&A about the project and you can read about how far-reaching it. The main goal is to bring poetry in all its glory and beneficence, to the front of people’s minds in the month of April, and hopefully beyond. There are lots of ways you can find groups to write and read with. Read more…
Shari Smothers on 
Stacy Floyd on 
