The quote above is something actor, Robin Williams, said as John Keating in the film Dead Poets Society. The 1989 movie is about an English professor reaching out to his students. There were many worthwhile quotes in the movie. The one posted here today is one that stood out for lots of those who watched the movie.
When you read a quote, do read it more than once. Do the same when you read a poem. You see so much more the second time and the third and the fourth. One of the fine points of reading a book of poems is that you can read it multiple times and glean something new at each successive reading.
When you watch a movie for the second or third time, you notice small details that you had not taken note of on the initial viewing. It's the same with reading poetry.
This is National Poetry Month. Take some time to read some poems. Reread some of your favorites, or pick up something new to you. If you've never been a person who reads poetry, try it. I don't mean to skim through a book of poetry or a website with numerous poems featured. Instead, take your time and read it. Let the words reach you emotionally.
Read it slowly; then read it again. Does the poem affect you in any way? Does it bring visual images to mind? Do you see beauty in the way it flows? Is it strong? Does it bring out any emotion in you? Do you see the way the poet uses words to reach the reader?
If you write prose, have you ever attempted to write a poem? Do you need to take numerous courses to write a poem? No. Studying poetry can only be helpful, but it is not a necessity to taking pen in hand, or putting fingers to keyboard, to write one. Don't be overly concerned about the meter, rhythm or rhyme. Start with free verse. Prose writers can spread their wings and give poetry a try.
For me, the main ingredient of writing poetry is that you write from your heart. You release what is within. Have you ever witnessed a part of nature that is so beautiful you wish you could paint it? Or write a poem? Many have, but few act upon it. When the moment is gone, they move on to other things in life. I have learned to do something about it when I see anything that affects me and makes me want to write a poem. It might only be the first two to four lines that I write on a scrap of paper, but I've got it and can continue later. Reading those first lines brings back whatever it was I had witnessed and allows me to continue writing.
Have you ever had a vivid dream that might prompt a poem? I have. I had been to a poetry presentation at a writer's conference weeks earlier. The woman who spoke mentioned dreams being a good source for poets. She said The important thing is to act on it as soon as you wake up before the dream is lost. One night I dreamed about old gypsy women on a train. They were sewing and little gypsy girls were dancing in the aisles. I couldn't imagine what prompted the dream in the first place, but I got up, grabbed a robe and went straight to my computer. I already had the first two lines in my head. I wrote them and the rest flowed, line upon line. The poem has been published more than once, and it was used as a prompt for an abstract artist in Kansas City. I have no formal training in writing poetry, so, if I can do it, so can you. The poem, which turned out to be about aging, is below with a photo of the painting. I have used the poem before to illustrate a point, so some of you may have read it already.
play, gypsy girl, play
passengers on a train, gypsies
going nowhere; wheels kiss tracks
like passion-driven teens
as gypsy women dip needle and thread
into cheap and flimsy fabric,
fashion bits and pieces to sell.
pricked fingers bleed onto gingham
and voile, spit wipes it clean again.
little girls wear blue eye shadow,
swing immature hips and mimic
older sisters, thumb their nose at
mothers, aunties, and grans. too soon
they will sew, wiping blood spots
away but for now, let them frolic,
midnight eyes glittering with
mischief. too soon cares settle
on shoulders like a burlap shawl,
not noticed until the years pull it tight,
captive in a smothering embrace.
play, gypsy girl, play for the years
roll quickly by; shake your tawny locks,
clap your jeweled hands, twirl until your
skirt billows round umber knees,
laugh and sing, before the heavy mantle
of womanhood crushes girlish patter,
cares and woes etch themselves in
deep ridges on cheek and chin, shoulders curl
onto sagging breasts, veins make maps of legs,
thinning tresses turn to silver, eyes dull from anger
or sometimes fear, gaps where teeth
once looked like pearls on a string.
weathered faces watch young girls dance, needles
never still, minds spiraling backward. play,
gypsy girl, play before the years sit like a rock
on your heart. the train speeds
whistle whining, as gypsy women sew
and little girls see only tonight.
Painting by Jennifer Rivera and my poem at the Art Gallery in St. Joseph, MO
deeply touching article and poem, brought me to tears, as I remembered my mother's embroidery though not as a gypsy but as very efficient housewife..she also used to knit fine sweaters, looked as if made by machine..thank you for sharing, your articles are very useful.
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