First House Call

Last night I made my first Poetry House Call. But first a note about Plein Air Poetry Writing. Yesterday, sitting at the patio table, observing honey bees gorging themselves on the split open juicy over-ripe peach in front of me, I was writing a still life of peaches, as would an impressionist painter, and the bees seduced me. I wrote a long description of their behavior, drilling proboscises into the nectar, their black bell boy caps, quivering stripped prisoner abdomens, and finally asked myself, why are you writing about these bees and I wrote, "I love these bees, nudging themselves into this peach." And wham, that's it, I can write the second draft, third draft, drill into the peach of the poem -- why -- because I know why I want to write about the bees. I know my passion and that will fuel the writing. LAST NIGHT, at seven last night, Mary and I went to a friend's home for my first Poetry House Call. Charlie and Robin had invited four couples and spread out appetizers and desserts. I started with a brief reading of my Words as Mirrors piece, about how poetry let's us look into our heart the way x-ray shows us our bones. Then guests shared some of their favorite poems, by of course, Frost, Poe, Stevenson, Mansfield, Sato, etc. I shared some of mine, shared my journal with notes, news clippings, power prompts (words or phrases cut from magazines and pasted to a page to use as a writing prompt) -- to encourage the guests to start journaling, putting down memoirs for their children and grandchildren, and perhaps, working at a poem or two. Everyone became engaged, telling stories about writing poems in high school and summer camp, the guest who had read Mansfield's "down to the sea again" had been a sailor -- the guest who had read Poe's "Bells" had had a thrilling experience of the poem with a high school teacher. The point, everyone had a significant connection with poetry. The evening was like a dream come true. A mini-salon with everyone invested in their experience and love for poetry. And, we all have new information about one another that enriches our friendships. WE CLOSED with me passing around a copy of my book of poems, SUNFIRE, for each guest to sign and annotate and we gave this book to our hosts, Charlie and Robin. Poetry House Calls: Fellow poets, try it, you'll like it. Readers: invite a poet for a poetry house call. You'll love it.

I am haunted by these words by Wallace Stevens, "After one had abandoned a belief in God, poetry is that essence which takes its place as life's redemption."

Sept. 28, 2010 Plein Air

Vacation is over -- well, wasn't really a vacation, building a digging and pouring concrete piers for the posts to hold up the headers for the new deck and then building the new deck, plus all the other work involved. And now, wine-making, etc. HOWEVER, no excuses, and I will be working my blog on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. ALSO, when I started this blog I told myself that I was not going to force myself to write something everyday, and that I will not write for the sake of writing, no babbling. Last week I gave a three minute poetry presentation at the fund raising breakfast for the Justice and Peace commission -- and I encourage other poets to engage in community affairs. I firmly believe that if we are to re-birth alove of poetry that we must be out in the community and sharing poems that are accessible to our audiences. WRITING POETRY: When I feel like I am getting into a rut, or sitting at my desk and pulling hairbrained poems out of my cerebellum, whatever, I like to take my journal and pen and some crayons and go outside and do some plein air writing, and practice my ability to look, listen, smell, taste, and feel where I am and what the environment surrounding me is in its being. And once I find something that attracts me, I work at simple description, like I would if I were doing a sketch for a painting. If I really connect, than I write a second draft, fill in the colors so to speak, and if I feel like this could be a poem, I ask myself, "What captured me, what made me write about this in the first place?" And that "sixth sense of it all, whether it be a sense ofbeauty, a sense of fecudity of the harvest, simplicity, generosity of nature, etc. Once I lock onto that, I can move into the third draft and have that sixth sense weave in and out and breathe oxygen into the poem. 1. Simple observations plein air. (Get out of your head and be with a real world) golden slats of cedar pickets surrouding the deck maple tree branches shading the redwood planking cool air goose bumping my arms air as clear as pure water the empty green chair beside me 2. the lush green green leaves of the potted basil plant pinch a leaf, that aroma, as one friend said, almost a sexual experience; another potted plant and the purple trumpets of its flowers I dont't sit here often enough. 3. What is the pull: the deck enjoys itself much more than do I. So much green. Lorca's green, "verde, verde, te quierde verde." green green I want you green. And so, we'll see where that goes. Cheers. P.S. Wednesday evening I am making a "house call" -- going to a friends home to enjoy reciting poems to her friends, and having a glass of wine and dessert. Poets out there, make a house call, you'll love it, so will your friends.