Poets’ Roundtable
Welcome
News and Jabber
So here we are, finally, again. It seems a long time. In that time we have seen the deaths of Derek Walcott, Yevgeny Yevtushenko and Chuck Berry.I have seen Chuck Berry in concert, up close. I have met Derek Walcott (in 1990 or so, before he won the Nobel in 1992 and before he published Omeros). Yevtushenko I have read a little of. Click the links for the two poets. Chuck Berry had a lot to do with my formative years, first heard on WMGM from New York, I think. I remember seeing his picture in the paper and being surprised that he was black.
The Current Assignment
The assignment, one I thought of without much thought was to write an acrostic poem that would down the side read Bigelow Poets, I think, although the one I did reads Bigelow Writers. Whatever.
Broken-hearted Melody
I remember you--
Get back,
Evil woman.
Love hurts.
Only love can break a heart.
Where is the love?
Where were you (when I wanted you)?
Rolling on the river?
It’s all right;
Time is on my side,
Even now.
Release me.
Stay, just a little bit longer.
Unpublished Work Copyright 2017 Emerson Gilmore
The Next Assignment
I have ruminated a lot about the deaths of Walcott and Berry. As I did so I found myself gravitating back to the poems of Weldon Kees. This may have been little more than, having not read or written much since I started packing to move, Kees's was the first book of poems I unpacked and so I stopped and read. Now, being in a new place, unsettled and dead tired I wasn't ready to write. My space doesn't have to be elaborate but it has to be set and comfortable to the unwinding of my mind. When I cannot get into the zone I resort to finding interesting new lines from other poets and then ruminating upon them until I begin forming my own lines. Then I write something. I have now written several poems prompted by lines/phrases of Kees's, especially from The Fall of the Magicians. So, here is the assignment for next time: Find a new writer, one you haven't read. Find a poem/poems you like. Find a particular phrase that really brings you in. Ponder it. Then write a poem of your own that comes from this seed. For example, I like the line "learn sunlight/ if you can:". Here is the poem:
A Grace in Lies?
“Learn sunlight/if you can:”
Weldon Kees, “The Ambassadors”
Did he think
he was learning sunlight
when he disappeared?
Was it afternoon and
him traveling west
into a revelation of sun?
Or had he decided
that it could not be,
that one, he, could not
learn sunlight
and he in fact did not know
what he wrote?
Did he believe there are
those who can
and therefore should, must
for those of us who cannot;
or that no one can
but there must be some
to lie about it,
and with conviction
so that more of us
do not sharpen the blade,
mount the railing
to gash, pitch out and down
in the shining,
unlearned sun?
Unpublished Work Copyright 2017 Emerson Gilmore
What I'm getting at in the assignment is echoed by Octavio Paz in The Bow and the Lyre. "...poetry is a grace, something external that descends on the poet." p. 144. In meditating upon a line that profoundly catches me, I approach a state in which I can accept poetry. That's the essence of the assignment.
What I'm getting at in the assignment is echoed by Octavio Paz in The Bow and the Lyre. "...poetry is a grace, something external that descends on the poet." p. 144. In meditating upon a line that profoundly catches me, I approach a state in which I can accept poetry. That's the essence of the assignment.
The Next Meeting
The next meeting will be on Thursday, April 20, 2017 from 1-2:30PM. Remember to bring two friends.
/Users/gerardpeters/Documents/I learned about sunlight when.docx
ReplyDeleteA confusing message. I think there is more...?
DeleteYes there is. I have a new computer and I have yet to learn how to use it.
DeleteVery frustrating. I do not have the triplets here to help me. When one was here from college last week, even she could not help; although she told me she could, but failed. She tweets like her siblings. I have three poems to share. I was, of a sudden, in a mood to write poetry-- and without promp, I dropped three in quick succession; although I was tired after surgery--had a suspect polyp removed from my gut--turned out benign.