I want to write poems that write me back— wild streams of words to sweep me from my careful path. I want to write poems that break me like a line, shape me to the softness of assonance and rhyme.
"Rotates the stock in my monkey-mind" - I am so tickled by this line! I'm imagining monkeys rearranging grocery store shelves, discovering surprises lurking behind the cans of campbell's soup.
Many years ago, in Vermont in the early 1980's, I saw a book of poetry by Hayden Carruth with the title "If You Call this Cry and Song." Lisa's prompt and the memory of that line brought this poem today.
What a gorgeous line, Larry - "if you call this cry a song." I can see why it stayed with you all these years, and I love how you made it your own. I'm struck by the spareness of this poem, the power of the question you pose at the end, and this beautiful and resonant confession: "my writing since then / a desperate attempt / to write that / one line / one phrase / that cries / that sings / that dances / off the page / into your heart." Stunning!
Also, I hear love in absolutely everything you share here. ❤️
Thank you Lisa, for your kind, generous and gracious comment. And comments--always one of the best parts of any day in which they come or I see them! This tremendous line, ironically just a parenthetical line in Carruth's poem, has resonated for so long--and your prompt made me realize that I write in part to attempt to write such a line that my cluster of beloveds may remember.
Thank you for the comment about love--I am not always conscious of that. Many years ago, in a church that I often led and preached in, a wondrful man, a classic irrascible New England Yankee curmudegeon, said to me after the service "you are always talking about love. What about salvation? Evil and obedience? The fear and trembling?" I smiled and said. "I'll let others handle those things. I'm not so good with them." And I added, "plus, maybe I'll stop talking as much about love when it seems like we have finallygotten it down?" He grumbled but did keep listening over the years. :)
This put a big smile on my face! I love that notion of writing to surprise yourself, the image of the sagging mattress and flying sparks . . . and then of you flying, too! This is so delightful.
Very nice, Keith. I like the “sagging old mattress of my mind” and “sparks of light begin to fly” and the last three lines, so honest and so sweet. May you continue to spark and fly!
Oh my goodness, these lines - "roasting sentences like marshmallows / to be stickily consumed by plot greedy minds; / whilst images, like chestnuts, split apart!" They are every bit as delicious as a perfectly roasted marshmallow. And yet I also intimately know the sometimes exhilarating, sometimes exasperating reality that "the words have their way." This is marvelous, Tam, and I am chef kissing right back!
I have been writing poetry since I was seven and I am turning 69 in a few days so that is a long time. I do it because I love it, but lately, maybe in the last 10 years, since I’ve been getting a lot published, I find more and more I’m thinking “is this good enough to be published?” That takes all the fun out of it so Thanks for reminding me why I write.
Happy birthday, Elaine! 62 years of poetry - amazing! It can be such a tricky thing to retain childlike play and exploration and honesty of expression when faced with an actual audience. I hope there are many hours of ridiculously fun writing in store for you during your next trip around the sun!
I was thinking about how writing is like a motor for me -- when it's on, I write without really understanding why, and when it's off, I don't. That got me thinking about other motors, like the one inside my weedeater. And then that prompted this tiny poem.
Ange, this is stunning! I don't even know where to begin. I want to quote back half of your poem to you because it's just that beautiful! Thank you so much for sharing it - and also for your kind words!
This is simply beautiful: Every word, phrase and sentence. I love the way you frame it with declarative sentences and lovely descriptions that follow. These lines will stay with me: Poetry is soul awakening song;" Poetry is clearing in a dense forest;" and "Poetry whispers me awake." What an incredible piece of writing, Ange. Thank you for sharing.
What a lovely kind of person to be in a world that's always in such a hurry! We need people who take things slowly. If you slowly find your way to a poem based on this prompt, I'd love to read it, however long that takes!
What a beautiful poem and reflection. Why do I/we write? Something clearly to ponder. Selfishly, I believe you write to make me feel/feel better a few times a week! :)
All of this writing
will be worth it if........
It rotates the stock in my monkey-mind
enuf
to sneek a peek
at what lurks
underneath.
"Rotates the stock in my monkey-mind" - I am so tickled by this line! I'm imagining monkeys rearranging grocery store shelves, discovering surprises lurking behind the cans of campbell's soup.
Bravo Chuck! May the monkey mind live on!
Many years ago, in Vermont in the early 1980's, I saw a book of poetry by Hayden Carruth with the title "If You Call this Cry and Song." Lisa's prompt and the memory of that line brought this poem today.
“If you call this cry a song…”
Parenthetical line from
the Song of Two crows.
Lyrical line that found me
So many years ago.
My writing since then
A desperate attempt
to write that
one line,
one phrase,
one poem
that cries,
that sings
that dances
off the page
into your heart
And you want to be
that writer, that poet
whose words live long after
earth has called you home.
If I call this cry a song
Will you hear
Its longing
or its love?
What a gorgeous line, Larry - "if you call this cry a song." I can see why it stayed with you all these years, and I love how you made it your own. I'm struck by the spareness of this poem, the power of the question you pose at the end, and this beautiful and resonant confession: "my writing since then / a desperate attempt / to write that / one line / one phrase / that cries / that sings / that dances / off the page / into your heart." Stunning!
Also, I hear love in absolutely everything you share here. ❤️
Thank you Lisa, for your kind, generous and gracious comment. And comments--always one of the best parts of any day in which they come or I see them! This tremendous line, ironically just a parenthetical line in Carruth's poem, has resonated for so long--and your prompt made me realize that I write in part to attempt to write such a line that my cluster of beloveds may remember.
Thank you for the comment about love--I am not always conscious of that. Many years ago, in a church that I often led and preached in, a wondrful man, a classic irrascible New England Yankee curmudegeon, said to me after the service "you are always talking about love. What about salvation? Evil and obedience? The fear and trembling?" I smiled and said. "I'll let others handle those things. I'm not so good with them." And I added, "plus, maybe I'll stop talking as much about love when it seems like we have finallygotten it down?" He grumbled but did keep listening over the years. :)
Oh, wow. This is amazing, Larry.
Thank you LeeAnn!
An inspiring manifesto...I was particularly taken with the sparking in the last stanza, so I...took it!
***
I write to
surprise myself
with words and images
I must have stuffed for safekeeping
like rumpled bills under
the sagging old mattress of my mind.
As I discover them there,
sparks of delight begin to fly.
And despite my dedication
to self-denigration,
I fly with them.
This put a big smile on my face! I love that notion of writing to surprise yourself, the image of the sagging mattress and flying sparks . . . and then of you flying, too! This is so delightful.
Very nice, Keith. I like the “sagging old mattress of my mind” and “sparks of light begin to fly” and the last three lines, so honest and so sweet. May you continue to spark and fly!
This is gorgeous, Lisa.
Thank you so much, A!
The Words Don’t Agree
I want to weave stories like opulent tapestries
vibrant and intricate, oozing character and plot.
I want to regale, inspiring reverential attention,
by a great open fire on a fierce winter's night
roasting sentences like marshmallows
to be stickily consumed by plot greedy minds;
whilst images, like chestnuts, split apart
to rise with the embers on the hot smokey haze.
But the words don't agree
favouring a shorter route;
impatient, impetuous words
demanding release without the delay
of paragraphs and chapters,
of end plots or character arcs.
I want to tell tall tales in long form
not notes dashed down
but my lines are truncated,
ignore punctuation,
and split in all the
wrong places.
So the words have their way
and I write what they ask.
Stories don't hang around
to wait for a mere chance of expression;
shrouded by the fire haze
of poetic composition,
they leave.
(Beautiful poem Lisa - that last verse is 🤌 (let’s just assume I know what all the emojis are and this is a chefs kiss symbol)
Oh my goodness, these lines - "roasting sentences like marshmallows / to be stickily consumed by plot greedy minds; / whilst images, like chestnuts, split apart!" They are every bit as delicious as a perfectly roasted marshmallow. And yet I also intimately know the sometimes exhilarating, sometimes exasperating reality that "the words have their way." This is marvelous, Tam, and I am chef kissing right back!
Gorgeous!
I have been writing poetry since I was seven and I am turning 69 in a few days so that is a long time. I do it because I love it, but lately, maybe in the last 10 years, since I’ve been getting a lot published, I find more and more I’m thinking “is this good enough to be published?” That takes all the fun out of it so Thanks for reminding me why I write.
Happy birthday, Elaine! 62 years of poetry - amazing! It can be such a tricky thing to retain childlike play and exploration and honesty of expression when faced with an actual audience. I hope there are many hours of ridiculously fun writing in store for you during your next trip around the sun!
Happy Birthday Elaine.! 69 has been a good year for me, all told! Many happy writing ventures and adventures to you!
I was thinking about how writing is like a motor for me -- when it's on, I write without really understanding why, and when it's off, I don't. That got me thinking about other motors, like the one inside my weedeater. And then that prompted this tiny poem.
.
I weedeat because
there are weeds.
If there weren’t
I would do
something else.
.
I write because
there are words.
If there weren’t
I would be
not myself.
Tiny and marvelous!! I’m so glad that there are words and that you are you.
I love this Rebekah! Clever creativity in a few sweet lines! Remember to eat your weedies!
Eat your weedies -- ha! I love it!
This is so beautiful Lisa. So many gorgeous lines and all of them together as a whole are stunning 🤍. Thank you for writing & sharing x
These are some of my thoughts about why I write…
https://open.substack.com/pub/angedisbury/p/poetry-sits-with-us-in-the-clearing?r=2qii2&utm_medium=ios
Ange, this is stunning! I don't even know where to begin. I want to quote back half of your poem to you because it's just that beautiful! Thank you so much for sharing it - and also for your kind words!
Ooops, I'm sorry I called you Angie rather than Ange at first! I just went back and fixed it.
Thank you, this is really encouraging 🤍
This is simply beautiful: Every word, phrase and sentence. I love the way you frame it with declarative sentences and lovely descriptions that follow. These lines will stay with me: Poetry is soul awakening song;" Poetry is clearing in a dense forest;" and "Poetry whispers me awake." What an incredible piece of writing, Ange. Thank you for sharing.
Such lovely encouragement Larry. Thank you so much 🙏
You are welcome Ange! My pleasure!
I want to write poems that
write me back—
Just stunning, Lisa. I write to save my life, again and again and again.
That one sentence is its own gorgeous poem, LeeAnn - "I write to save my life, again and again and again." Please keep writing!
Thank you, Lisa!
Yes to all of that! Beautiful poem, Lisa 💛
As for the prompt, well, I am one of those who take things slowly :)
What a lovely kind of person to be in a world that's always in such a hurry! We need people who take things slowly. If you slowly find your way to a poem based on this prompt, I'd love to read it, however long that takes!
You’ll be the first to read it, Lisa! 🙏
Power to the slow ones, Fotini!
What a poem. Wow. Reading it out loud to myself was a treat.
I'm going to return to this prompt for sure. Happy camping!
Thank you so much, Margaret! I really look forward to reading what you write . . . whenever it happens!
Love! ❤️
Thank you so much, Cynthia!
Lovely
What a beautiful poem and reflection. Why do I/we write? Something clearly to ponder. Selfishly, I believe you write to make me feel/feel better a few times a week! :)
I do, I do! 💕
You are a happy camper! 😀
Really very good. I'm brand new here and expect I'll go back as I'm doing now and read over your older posts. thanks
I love this poem so much, from the very first line! Such passion about poetry....I would like to print this one out and hang it up on the wall.