I hadn’t seen Amy in years, but during a mini-reunion with old high school friends she asked about my poetry. “I still have the poem you wrote for me when my dad died, ” she told me.
I didn’t remember writing the poem, but the idea that words, poetic words, would help connect me to a grieving friend sounded familiar. It’s how I still cope. Just last week as I was facing an anxious night myself, I pulled out a book of poetry a friend had given me. One after another I read through the verses.
Contrary to the stereotypical poet sequestered alone with a journal and a bottle of wine, poetry has always provided a way for me to reach out to others, to invite them into my life or join them in theirs.
When I was a teenager, I wrote love poems to God and shared them with my religious friends. I also wrote a love poem to the young man who was a student-teacher in our PE class for a semester—a schoolgirl crush exposed on paper. I wrote poems to read at church, and I wrote poems to my mom on special occasions.
My writing took a turn in college, when I had to force my words into AP style and inverted pyramids rather than using them to reach out to others. I abandoned poetic conversations for headlines and leads.
When I joined the staff of a daily newspaper, words became more work. I thought only of deadlines. As my job became increasingly about city council meetings and the local police blotter, I knew I couldn’t do it much longer.
I continued to think of words as work long after I stopped being paid a journalist’s salary and long before I cashed my first free-lance check. Play with words? Who had time for that? Connecting to people with words? It seemed provincial.
But occasionally, I would come across a poem that took my breath away. I would marvel, so few words to say so much. I heard poets reading what they’d birthed, and I felt connected to them through the rhythm and the rhymes.
One day, I heard Garrison Keillor reading poems on NPR in his Writer’s Almanac. It was like an infusion of blood into my anemic writer’s soul. I began listening to his poems every day, often stopping just to soak up the words, sometimes jotting down titles to pass along to a friend.
Even if I’m not writing poetry, I now know I have to hear it, I have to see it, I have to have it in regular doses or the other writing I’m doing begins to suffer.
And poetry still connects me to others. I met a distant cousin for the first time on Saturday, her binder full of poems nestled in her giant backpack. As we sat waiting for lunch, I read a few of her poems, each tucked carefully in plastic sheet protectors, the paper kept safe… while her heart fell open before me in those words.
Photo by Claire Burge. Used with permission. Post by Charity Singleton Craig.
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Buy a year of Every Day Poems, just $5.99— Read a poem a day, become a better poet. In February we’re exploring the theme Red.
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Megan Willome says
Charity, this is wonderful! I love how you describe poetry as connecting you to others. I am finding this, too.
And my homepage is The Writer’s Almanac. I can’t start writing each day until I read it, along with a cup of tea.
L. L. Barkat says
Megan, I think that’s pretty cool that you have a writing ritual. My writing is so unpredictable (like the other night when I simply *had* to write an article for Curator starting at 11:00 at night. I stayed up until I finished it at midnight! 🙂
Charity, you know I love this journey, and the way it has brought us together 🙂
Marilyn Yocum says
Keillor’s “Writer’s Almanac” has been a mini-vacation in the middle of my day for years. It’s introduced me to many poets and reminded me of poems I’d forgotten. I like that you mentioned it.
Your old friend who brought a poem by your own hand back to your attention is a warm blessing. My mother had in her files a poem I’d written her long ago. That she saved it meant much. (I’d forgotten all about it.) And then to come upon some of her own poems…..that was a “connector” for me, for sure. The mother with whom I felt I had so little in common…….hmmmm, yes.
John says
Charity, I like these words very much, and I like it even more that you now know poetry must be heard. As a footnote, I’ve found approximately three poems can be created via one bottle of wine…results vary, obviously, with the user.
Simply Darlene says
It’s the connection, isn’t it? Whether with our dreams, fears, friends, strangers, or God.
Thanks for sharing your pathway back to poetry.
Blessings.
Charity Singleton says
Megan – I love that poetry offers so much life to many of us. Did you hear the piece on NPR last December about a guy who stumbled into reading poetry because it brought the kind of peace he was looking for? I loved the story.
http://www.npr.org/2011/12/26/143853118/a-poem-a-day-portable-peaceful-and-perfect
Charity Singleton says
LL – My writing habits sound a lot like yours. Try as I may, I just can’t get a really structured writing time. Thankfully I do write often, now. In some ways, that makes up for the routine in my life.
Yes, we are connected by poetry, in so many ways.
Charity Singleton says
Jason – I think you are in the right place to start interacting with writers who read poetry to each other. There are several poets connected with this web site who have recorded themselves reading their poetry and posted those clips on their blogs from time to time. There are Twitter parties where you can share bits of poetry off the cuff. Then, you can always contact the English department of any nearby universities and find a schedule of poetry readings. Find the poets first, and then you will find opportunities to share the poetry.
I’m sure there are a lot of other people connect with TweetSpeakPoetry who could better answer your questions. Hopefully some of them will respond as well.
Best wishes!
L. L. Barkat says
A poem a day, Charity?! 🙂
Hmmmm, now where have I heard that before? 😉
Charity Singleton says
Marilyn – That your mother kept the poem . . . yes, that would mean a lot.
Last year for National Poetry Month, I put a little piece in my company’s newsletter about trying to read one poem in the entire month. There were statistics about how most people read NO poetry in an entire year, even. I felt so sad for them, especially after realizing that I average a poem a day at least. Some weeks, I read much more.
Charity Singleton says
Thanks John! Perhaps I’ve read some of the wine-induced work over at your place? Your poetry is always so moving. Maybe YOU should consider recording yourself reading your work and posting that sometime over at the Beautiful Due. I think that would be a wonderful way for us to hear you.
Charity Singleton says
Simply Darlene – Yes, I don’t know if I would love poetry so much if it didn’t take me by the hand and join me to others. I am much more hesitant to share other writing I do, but poetry has never been like that for me. I always wrote it to give away.
Charity Singleton says
LL – Yes, I read TweetSpeak poetry more days than I hear Garrison Keillor now, if you really must know! 🙂 On the days when I catch both, I feel that much more full.
Bradley J. Moore says
Charity – so great to hear about your journey here! I didn’t realize you has such a history with poetry. I didn’t write poetry in high school, but did some pretty wild creative writing. At least that’s what I call it now.
Hey. I know what you mean about curling up, sequestered with the poems and a glass of wine and just getting some soul-comfort. It feeds us, it nourishes us, to go forth and write more.
davis says
i like garrison keillors voice, and his reading.
good post, charity.
Darcy @ Message in a Mason Jar says
Like you, I was a teenage poet. I still have my pink rose journal with all of the drama in short form: “so few words to say so much”.
Diana Trautwein says
Loved reading this, Charity. I’m just the opposite – any poetry I’ve ever written (and there hasn’t been much), I’ve carefully hidden away or lost. It feels too rough, too revealing, maybe? I’m getting closer to trying it out again – your courage inspires me. Thanks for this great essay.
Llama Momma says
I love this, Charity. Like you, I turn to poetry for comfort and understanding…sometimes stillness. To find quiet.
Charity Singleton says
Bradley – I would love to see some of that wildly creative writing from your high school days! I have to tell you that my high school poetry was much tamer!
Charity Singleton says
Nance – Garrison Keillor’s voice was made to read poetry, wasn’t it?
Darcy – “Drama in short form” – what a wonderful description of so much poetry!
Diana – The way you feel about your poetry is the way I feel about the short stories I’ve written. We really need to put ourselves out there more, don’t we?
Llama Momma – the book of poetry YOU gave me is the one I refer to in this piece! It’s been a soul saver, I tell you!