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.

more Sandburg

Sandburg is my retreat today. The opening of his poem, Alone and Not Alone. "There must be a place/ a room and a sanctuary/ set apart for silence."

Sandburg inspiration

Two days ago, when I went on a book buy for our bookstore, I snagged a paperback of Carl Sandburg's Honey and Salt. What could be better with my first cup of coffee, light turning Pikes Peak rosy, and a new day ahead of me. The second poem in the book, Pass, Friend, ends with these two lines, "I who have loved morning know its doors./ I who have loved night know its keys." How I wish I had written those two lines. BUT, given the themes they represent, I may crib his concept of knowing the doors of morning and keys of night and write from there. Sandburg, I consider him to be one of the most under-valued poets in the canon of American literature. The first poem in the book is the title poem, Honey and Salt, about the vagaries of love. A delicious poem, one I can read aloud and hold and savor on the tongue. One of my favorite lines from that poem, "or two wishes riding on the back of a/ morning wind in winter." And the lines for the title, "There are sanctuaries/ holding honey and salt." Look at The Wilderness by Sandburg. A wildly splendid poem that even young students today could read, and discuss, covering everything from evolution to man's inhumanity to man. I've had a wonderful morning with Sandburg and you can find his poems just with a simple Google or Yahoo search, like, Carl Sandburg, The Wilderness poem.

Relationships

As I was browsing an art instruction book this morning, I came across this, "Do not paint things, paint relationships." So true for poetry too. Relationships and then in my email pops up this poem by Dave Bonta, entitled Loggerhead. check it out on www.wordpress.com, Poets for Living Waters emails the poems to me. This particular writing is more of a description and behaviour poem, and what brings it to life for me is the relationships the turtle has in marine life. From my POV, this also is why "still lifes" should not be called still lifes. Because if they are "relationships" then they are dynamic. Do poets write "still lifes?" Are they dynamic, with energy and passion? Those are the poems that survive.

Answer to comments

I still have not figured out how to comment on comments and how to let everyone see the reader's comments but H is coming next week to teach me. Julie asked about dashes and commas and their use in poems. I consider the white page a canvas and may do whatever I want to "paint my picture" and either make it work for myself or my audience or both. My goal is for my audience to enjoy the "poem experience" the words and their meanings create. Look at e. e. cummings. Many of his poems are wonderful, some however, are too jumbled to immediately understand. Julie also asked, CAN ANYONE BE A POET? I cannot answer that. BUT, anyone who can speak can write, at least write down what they would speak. And with some work, anyone can write a loving "message," maybe not a "poem" to a loved one, but heartfelt. And once that communication begins, and diligent observation of the exterior world and the internal knowledge and feelings of that, persists in being expressed in words -- poems can arrive through that birth canal and burst into air and with a gulp and cry, a whisper and shudder, grow towards poetry.

write to your loved ones part 3

As I wrote on the first blog of this exercise you do not have to be a "poet" to writ something sensitive and special to your loved one(s). And "love poem" is not meant just for your spouse -- how about your children? Friends? Parents and grandparents? Favorite Aunt or Uncle? Cousin. Anyhow. Keep it simple. Observations that celebrate the recipient of the poem. Yes, the recipient. The twist is this, the love poem is not about you, not about your gushy feelings, no, it is about the recipient, written in such a way that it celebrates them, and your love. I decided to take one observation and only one to write from today. When we share morning coffee do you know' how delicately you cradle the cup up to your lips and blow off a stream of steam, then you open your eyes wider and look at me and we talk ourselves into that moment when, after refills of coffee and more talk of our day's agendas, we rise from the table and kiss and go into our day each to our own agendas, always, with the warmth of the coffee steam, and the lip touch of the kiss -- and that is when I know again, you are my best friend. OBSERVE OBSERVE OBSERVE and re-write from those observations, simple, straightforward. Jim

Write to your loved ones part 2

So, as I review what I wrote yesterday, I feel as though I need more specific observations and considerations, about my spouse's behavior that I can appreciate, even the foibles, like leaving the vacuum cleaner in the hallway when she cleans house and I invariably trip over it. And I ask myself, if this is going to be an intimate writing, between only myself and my spouse, do I dare get really intimate and mention what I love about her in loving? Serious consideration. And is it necessary to convey the love I feel for her? I think I will stay with daily activities, sensations and observations. Loving times can be a different poem. And even a lover's love poem can be sensuous and sexy without details, consider Neruda's line, "As I mark the atlas of your body --" you fill in the intimate details. So, think about your loved one -- and observe, get into the moment of sensuous delight, and we'll continue tomorrow. Cheers

Write to your loved one(s)

Dear Friends, This has been the busiest week of my year and as a result had neither time nor psychic energy o blog -- but now that I can be back on track, let me share with you ad special moment in last weeks many special events. On Thursday evening Mary and I cooked dinner for the 16 members of the faculty and staff of the Antiquarian Booksellers Seminar, held here every year at CC. After dinner, during dessert with tirimisu and limoncella, I presented a love poem I had written for Mary. A straightforward poem of describing what I loved about her femininity. Finished, I challenged the men at the table to think about writing a love poem to their spouse or significant partner. Of course, they all indicated they were not poets. My response: You do not have to be a poet to write a sensitive, enamoring, thoughtful, beautiful expression in words to celebrate your love and joyous affection for your partner, male or female. Observe, simply observe her or him. Be in the moment. What attracts you -- the sound of her voice? The way he takes out the trash without being asked? How she flirts her hair with bangs? How he always refills your coffee so you don't have to get up? Or brings in the paper and opens it on the table for you? Be in the moment: Sniff her skin, hear, feel, taste, and write simple straightforward observations. DO NOT attempt to wax poetic and DO NOT use comparisons or metaphors. When we have coffee in the morning I like the way you wrap your fingers around the coffee cup and I see your eyes light up as you sip the first taste your voice when you read a Peanuts cartoon to me and you impersonate Lucy freshly showered, your hair hangs loosely, touching the milky skin of your shoulder etc etc, until you become aware of what made you write all of this in the first place, that sixth sense, above and beyond the physical, the epiphany of that moment, such as James Wright had when he wrote the poem about the two horses in the pasture "If I step out of my body I would break into blossom." For this exercise, maybe I'd write "When I look at you at breakfast, I am praying with my eyes open." So, as the world spins in a daily revolution around itself and moves farther in its circle around the sun, be here and be here now, in front of your loved one, and observe, and share, and enoble and enrich both of your lives. TOMORROW: how would I re-write this?