Poetry Helps Us Connect

[I received this as an e-mail today - passing along]

by Michelle Obama, U.S. First Lady

When I was young, I was a passionate creative writer and sort of a poet. That's how I would release myself. Whenever I was struggling in school, or didn't want to go outside and deal with the nonsense of the neighborhood, I would write and write and write and write. I think it was my writing that sort of prepared me for so much of what I've had to do in my life as an adult.

Robert Frost once wrote, "A poem begins as a lump in the throat." In writing poetry, you all put words into that kind of emotion. You give voice to your hopes, your dreams, your worries and your fears. And when you do that, when you share yourself that way, and make yourself vulnerable like that, you're taking a risk. And that's brave.       Read more

Let me recommend a blog...

If you have a spare moment this weekend and you have not already seen this blog, I recommend it.  For several weeks now I've been reading Writing with Celia.  Her Friday post was really a good reminder of things I should know and need to keep reminding myself.  The post Poetry Revision 101, Lesson Four: Do I Sound Fat in This Poem?  As the title implies she has been doing a series of these poetry revision posts.


On another note... weather turned out fine for last reading last night in Excelsior Springs.

Bubble Wrapped Morning

When I started the day it looked like the near future had rain in store for us. Suddenly the sky got the green light and the rain came. 

Tonight I am supposed to be in Excelsior Springs for a reading. North of Kansas City - more small townish than urban and what seems to be a somewhat well beaten path for sever storms that pass north of Kansas City.

My fingers are crossed that the weather isn't cause for people staying away from the event. 

Of Ponderance and Brain Freeze

Great questions posed by Jeannine - Relative Success, Relative Failure - Life as a Poet.  Lots of food for thought.  No easy answers to these questions. Also the dialogue Nic Sebastian has been having on exposure for poetry - (see her post at Want Poetry Readers? Publish in multiple formats - some free) gives poets a lot to think about.  Then I read an article today... The author as entrepreneur, and the dangers it poses.  The author talks about a program similar to Kiskstarter but specifically for writers.

There are just so many things for writers to ponder today.

Everyday Saint

 After absorbing the Mary Biddinger interview that appeared Febuary at The Fine Delight - Catholicism in Literature the newly receased chapbook has moved on my radar from want to read to must read!

It seemed to me upon reading the interview that (the idea) Saint Monica came to Mary in almost a casual way and I find it fasinating - the transformation from this inception into a series poems bringing the saint into the everydayness.

I've only read one of the poems at this point but have seen the titles of a number of them this has been enough to hook me. That and the cultural aspect of Catholicism and poetry molded together.  The book just came out on June 1st and is available at: Black Lawrence Press  or Amazon.

Confession Tuesday - Daydreaming Edition

Dear Reader...

It's been a week since my last confession and I'm back to lay everything out in the open.

I confess that as I was driving this evening after work I was daydreaming.( For the record, this was before I picked my wife up. She thinks I can't drive and do anything else safely.)  At the right you will see the Center for Preforming Arts here in Kansas City that is under construction.  This morning as I passed it I wished I had taken a picture of it so tonight I did.  And as I proceeded to drive I thought about what a cool place if will be to attend the Symphony Orchestra. Then a funny thing happened. I suddenly got to thinking about the building filled to capacity for an event. Actually it was an unlikely event. Yes, I pictured thousands of people, myself included attending a poetry reading at the new facility. Can you picture this? Wouldn't it be awesome?

I'm not sure what brought this on. Maybe it's because I've had readings on my mind lately. But I admit it would be cool to see a packed house in a building this size taking in poetry.  I understand that in Russia they have filled stadiums for poetry readings.  I confess I wish more people valued poetry in America they way they do in many other countries.

On a side note I have been in a pretty good sized theater for a Mary Oliver reading that was packed. Nothing the size of the Center for Preforming arts though.

What am I Doing this Week?

It is the function of art to renew our perception. What we are familiar with we cease to see. The writer shakes up the familiar scene, and, as if by magic, we see a new meaning in it.  ~ Anais Nin



It's a new week.  I'm thinking about Anais Nin's words.  I'm thinking about the difference between writing and writing that is meaningful. Note to self... Step back and look at what you write and revise this week. Even if it is about the familiar, how does it offer a fresh perspective, a different view or image. Am I writing or is this meaningful. If it is not meaningful can I call it art?

Influence

The life I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and that in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops or in what far place my touch will be felt. ~  Frederick Buechner


Reading Frederick Buechner's words above struck me tonight in many different ways. While Buechner may well have been thinking more in terms of the example our life leaves for others, I was also thinking about how far our influence goes in other areas such as art. Our own tastes in art. Our own creations in art. The influence of one's creativity on others. Really any influence we have on others can ultimately travel far. When we write a poem - paint a picture or create a song don't we really hope that it touches someone else?  The more someones the better.

Stepping Out

Unfolding before me
an accordion of dark.

Leaving behind
incandescence,
hope, italicized security.

Each step grayer
in doubt than the last.

Each footing more
to the dark side

a narrowing aperture
a pinhole possibility.

2011 © Michael A. Wells

Confession Tuesday

Dear Reader:

It's been one week since my last confession. One week that was shifter to create a 3 day weekend.  Let me start by confessing that yes I think all weekends should be 3 days long.

To the right is a picture taken recently of Barry on a walk with me. It's not a great photo but it's a family photo. This brings me to my first confession tonight. Okay, it's really my second for admitting what should be the obvious... 3 day weekends rule!  But back to the photo thingy.  All my life I've been fond of photos. During my teenage years I started a practice that continued for years. I would shot a roll of film (you remember rolls?) and pitch it in a drawer. This would be repeated many times. Seldom did I unload the camera and run to have it developed. We wouldn't want to do anything rash!

So periodically I would reach in a drawer - usually under some entirely different pretense, but pull out a roll and get it off to process. The beauty of this approach is you were often totally surprised at what you got. Sometimes pictures 4 to 7 years old. Yep! I was that bad.

Imagine how excited I was with digital photography. The only problem is that I recently though about it and I have not been good about pulling all these photo files into a singular location. I'm sure I've lost some on computer drives I no longer have available to me. Or phones... though I think most of them recently I've been able to back up.  But this whole worry over photos came about as I was reminiscing recently over photos we shot as the kids were growing up. I confess that I not only want to pull all the digital stuff together, I'd like to (cough!) get hard copies of many of them printed and organized in an album.

~0~

While I've fallen the last 45 days off the submission wagon (this is a confession) - I began my rebound over the weekend.  And I've already received a rejection!  I think it hit me in the but when I turned around.  Alas, I will be sending more this week!

~0~

I spent some time this weekend cleaning out e-mail. Yes, I admit I am an e-mail hog! I confess that I keep e-mail I should delete and it grows overnight in my inbox. I swear it reproduces!  Every once and a while I will do a tidy up - but I admit, I would do well to delete daily.  Sometimes I just think I may need to go back to something so I don't immediately deal with it. I think it's disease.

~0~

I was at a similar today so I've actually been out of the office since Friday.  I confess tomorrow looms intimidatingly close. (sigh)


Thanks for stopping by. Have a great week and may your e-mail be under control!

Journal Bits May 8th to May 29th

An overdue sampling from my journal:

• May 7: "The summer sun ray/shifts through a suspicious tree,/though I walk through the valley of the shadow/it sucks the air /and looks around for me" from Noon Walk on the Asylum Lawn - Anne Sexton
• May 15: The evening feels like it is sagging under some melancholy weight. I think about pictures of our past. Pictures in the dining room on Baltimore of Cath and the kids making chocolate candies in the molds.
• May 15: I want sidewalks of ribboned parchment where people stop to take note of thoughts. - I want a big dark riped Black Diamond watermelon for a buck ninety-eight.
• May 17: I confess I'd like to do a writing residency but I don't see that happening anytime soon. ...I would surely be a basket case being away from home.
• May 17: His sigh became mine/in this we found common ground/mine was round and hollow/ringing true to the exasperation...
• May 21: Listing a few words that I'd like to incorporate into writing soon- pollen / flicks / abrasive /preens / condense / peril / khaki /muzzle
• May 22: there was a browning/of mountains that/marched downward...
• May 25: There isn't time to percolate/there's calamity in the cosmos/we should walk it off/crying is for sissies
• May 29: We followed the almanac/in the night sky   except/for the ten days we could see/nothing but overcast smokers//breath...

Capturing that Childlike Wonder

"It would not hurt that we live our lives with childlike wonder. Have you asked yourself lately: "When was the last time I saw something for the first time?" ~ Cecilia Borromeo

A Place to Kill Some Time. You Won't Regret It!

If you are looking for some awesome poetry to read / listen to - I have just the recommendation. Today I settled in and took in Nic Sebastian's Forever Will End on Thursday .  Just as Nic had done with the audio of poems by many others, she delighted me with her readings.  The writing is strong, the reading is captivating. I've heard so few people even come close to adding such a positive dimension to any one's work orally. Some people are more into spoken word poetry. I don't considered myself one of them. While I personally do enjoy giving readings and going to readings-- if I had to choose between the written word and spoken word I would choose written hands down. I'm pretty visual about poetry in that I like to see how it fills the page. That said, Nic has the ability to make the words on a page mystical.

By the way, one of my favorites among her poems as part of the link above is Oboe. In the Poems II section there are three poems that are titled  Places of Happiness (followed by three different places) each of these have such a bright lyrical quality.  I can't really do any of these poems justice here... go and listen for yourself!  Which ones speak to you?

An Editor's View

We sometimes received - and I would read - 200 manuscripts a week. Some of them were wonderful, some were terrible; most were mediocre. It was like the gifts of the good and bad fairies. ~ Marilyn Hacker

Magpie Tales 67 / Poem: Dangerous Liaison

just past the hour of lunacy

I made love on my Mandolin

melody riper then the grapes missed

on the vines

bread  broken and settled

the talk fallen to slumber

women seriously quiet

music all there was between us

fools we were drunk on our own

magical creations

2011 © Michael A. Wells






Magpie Tales 67

Confession Tuesday

Dear Reader:

It's been one week since my last confession. One week of monstrous tornadoes. Here I am tripping over the clock to make it to the confessional before midnight.

I confess that I have the people of Joplin, Missouri on my mind. And those in Oklahoma, Kansas, Arkansas and anywhere else that have been faced with loss of life and property due to the mammoth sized tornadoes that have struck this week - more even tonight.  I've spent my entire life living in tornado alley so I'm not unaccustomed to tornado watches and warnings.  While these were not a threat to our immediate area, when you live in the the states of Missouri, Kansas, Arkansas and Oklahoma you never take your safety from such storms for granted.  A good part of Joplin, Missouri was just decimated and the death toll is something around 120 and people are still unaccounted for.  Shocking and sad.

I have to admit I've fallen of the submission wagon. After a really good start to this year I confess I just seem to have fallen and can't get up. Considering I had really good response to my early flurry of submissions it seems like you would think I would learn that submissions are the key to successful publication where as those who don't submit don't publish. Hitting myself over the head - well duh! I confess I need like a week long campaign to get back up to speed. I think I will plan to start that over memorial weekend.

With that affirmation of a plan to do better - I'll call this confession a wrap.

May your week be a safe and productive one.

Under The Influence...

There is a boundary to men's passions when they act from feelings; but none when they are under the influence of imagination.  ~    Edmund Burke
I'm thinking I need to write more often under the influence...

Dead Poet Mentor Series Part 3 - Censoring Yourself

This week Anne seems to be reinforcing a notion that is not new to me but one that I still neglect (perhaps intentionally) to adhere to often enough in my writing.

In reading some of Sexton's poems from her book Transformations again, I see a poet (artist) stretching her work in what I must presume to be beyond a comfort level. Sexton is not at this point in her life new to taking her work into what would surely be uncomfortable zones for most people, but for example in Rapunzel she approaches the poem in what for 1970 must surely have been a most difficult light to offer to the general public to read. She writes:

"A woman / who loves a woman / is forever young...
they would play rummy / or lie on the couch / and touch and touch / old breast against young breast"

In a September 22, 1970 letter to her agent Claire Degener, Anne speaks of two of the Transformation poems (Rapunzel and Sleeping Beauty) as her best. She tells Claire they have been turned down by the New Yorker. Of course I could only be surmising if I suggested the New Yorker found the poems to have pushed the envelope a little too far for the time.  There could have been any of a number of other reasons that they were not picked up by the magazine, but Sexton was no stranger to them. Sexton had no less they 21 poems published by them making her a bit of a New Yorker hog!

Transformations was published the following year - 1971.  Even a writer familiar with and critical of the work prior to publication came around and decided he had over reacted to it.  Transformations went on to become highly acclaimed in spite of taboo subjects.

Was Sexton brave or simply not at all concerned about public perception?  Did she truly have the discipline as a writer to not self censor?  Whatever the answer is, the fact remains that her body of work exhibits a willingness to take her writing to places that most would intentionally back away from.  And to her credit, Sexton has to be viewed as a significantly influential poet of her time.
Her lesson here... You've heard if form others coaching you.. don't let fear dictate what you might have written, move past your comfort zone.

Dead Poet Mentoring Series:

Part One - My Selection

Part Two - Anne Sexton From Beyond

Magpie 66 / Poem: Timeline

birth

transformative

thoughts to ink

ink to page

page after page

after page

pressed

bound

catalogued

2011 © Michael A. Wells







Magpie Tales 66

Confession Tuesday - Taco Plate Edition

It's that time again.  Time to head to the confessional...   Dear Reader~  It's been one week since my last confession. One week more work then I care to recount, so much rain that I could hear my grass growing, nights with the furnace on followed by air conditioning... it's all very exasperating.

Looking back on the week I must confess that I was not one who was surprised by Donald Trump's decision not to run for President. I also confess that I'm a tiny bit disappointed but mostly because I would like for him to reach the public realization that he's not all that! If this is mean spirited then I confess to being that too.

Today my wife and I had lunch together at this little authentic Mexican restaurant. The place could politely be described as rustic. Cathy had already eaten there and had been talking it up so I decided to treat her to lunch together so I could experience it with her. I confess that I only needed three tacos but I pigged out with five. That is the actual platter above. She was right - there tacos are awesome.  I also confess that I tried two of their sauces and wished that I had brought my own. Would I be tacky next time to bring a bottle with my own taco sauce?

I confess lately I've had writing residencies on my mind.  I've though about what experiencing one would be like and yet I don't see the prospect of one anytime soon. The other thing that comes to my mind when I think about a residency is that if I was on one for any extended period of time I'd probably be a basket case being away from home. None of this even seems like it is worthy of my time to think about it but that has never stopped me from thinking about things in the past.

I'm about all confessed out for the night... here's hope that your week all that you wish it to be!