Invitation to Poetry

Ah, January. Happy new year, Friends! Here in New Jersey, all eyes have been peeled on the weather forecast this week, with a huge winter storm approaching. When I started writing this piece, it seemed a good dump of the cold white stuff would grace our surfaces but now whatever falls will be quickly washed away by a lot of rain. I live right near the snow/rain line in our area, and it’s been more than a season since we’ve had some decent accumulation. To me, a snow day holds the magic of a good January vibe. I look forward to snow days stillness, although, admittedly, so little seems to be still any longer.

I anticipate the potential for a quiet January, especially after the holiday season rush. Short days persist, although we creep toward more daylight. Twinkle lights, once perfectly arranged, now a little haphazard from the wind, still polka-dot the neighborhood night. More sparkle in the morning as the sun bedazzles frost and icicles hanging from eaves. If you can imagine it, I’m the one from the meme who happily jumps right into a cozy place with my cats when plans are canceled last-minute. I treasure the time with hot cocoa (and occasionally tea), and the latest book stack accumulating on the side table. Right now, I’m traveling across the country and back again, with a side trip to Spain, with Rick Maxson and his new poetry collection, Under the Pearl Moon. From his poem “Tree Frog,”

“You speak in tongues
and you jazz like nobody’s business…
You teach me the lightness of not knowing…”

I prefer quiet winter cocooning, the come-as-you-are invitation to just be, and to see what awaits just after that next deepest breath. In those quiet spaces, I invite myself. I invite poetry.

Oh do you have time
     to linger
          for just a little while
               out of your busy

and very important day…

—excerpted from “Invitation” (Mary Oliver)

Linger. Look. Listen. I didn’t even shoot for assonance there, but it magically happened when I received the invitation. And, as a reader of poetry, you don’t have to write, but maybe, a muse is calling to you.

***

For some, the idea of quiet spaces can overwhelm. Trigger anxiety, even, and the severest of avoidances. They may even iron their shower curtain just to keep busy (hand shyly raises at the admission of past terrors at blank pages). Not to worry, sweat or fret—a veritable wealth of resources exist right here, at Tweetspeak, for your comfort along the poetic journey. As a long-time member of the TSP community, I can vouch for the many resources that have continually enhanced my poetry life.

Maybe you’re curious and want to invite more poetry into your life but are a little, say, nervous? Intimidated? Poetry is so sad to hear that, but one invaluable resource is a poetry field guide of sorts, How to Read a Poem by Tania Runyan, which explores and expands the very concept. “Think of it less as an instructional book and more as an invitation,” she coaxes the reluctant reader, and then leans into Billy Collins’ Introduction to Poetry to take the first steps:

“I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide”

Not only have I used this field guide for my own poetic exploration, but also in my practice as a speech pathologist, working with patients who have language difficulties. I remember the giggles of one former patient at Collins’s lines:

“I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out”

We thought of other things to drop into a poem, like an elephant who would crush the letters or honey that would make the words sticky. I recently found a note from that patient, saying “Thank you for making poetry fun!”

I always think: Thank you, Poetry, for being fun.

***
Sometimes, life feels just too busy. Often, probably. Hopefully not always. An easy way to invite more poetry into your life is through a subscription, like Every Day Poems. Right into your inbox. You don’t have to physically leave your desk, but you could replace a few minutes of scrolling with a few minutes (or more) of poetry. Read it to yourself, and then, read it out loud. Even if other people are within earshot! Be bold. You never know who you and poetry will invite to the next party. Print the poem, and collage with it. Or, put it in your pocket and read it several times throughout the day. Not every poem will resonate with you, but I’m sure one day, when you’re least expecting it, poetry will bring you just what you need for that moment, for that season.

***

Even in a busy and glamorous city, invitation and poetry, exist in the quiet spaces.

On the Pont Alexander III
     Paris, France

Just before midnight
a storm passes,
washes Paris clean
of daytime fervor––
I wander toward
the bridge, often
four-deep in tourists,
now nearly empty
except for myself,
some couples and
a few solitary flaneurs.

The gilt Fames on
each corner tower
over the nymphs
and cherubs nestled
between art deco
street lamps. Lights
from the next bridge
bejewel the Seine
like Van Gogh’s Starry
Night Over the Rhone,
the energy of each
thick brushstroke
on the water.

I imagine my daughter
beside me, but she
is elsewhere. Stars
above the clouds
backlight the inky
sky, jasmine amplifies
the damp night air.
When the Iron Lady
sparkles at midnight
I am held in quiet magic,
open to her invitation.

—Michelle Rinaldi Ortega

Your turn

Create a list of everything you’d like to invite into your life. Keep the items to a word or short phrase, then stack them into a poem.

Take one invitation on the list, and map it out. Put the word in the center of the page, then write all the words that come to mind in association with that word. Voila! A map! Free write about where this map will invite you to go.

Photo by wsilver, Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post by Michelle Ortega. “On the Pont Alexander III” used with permission. 

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Michelle Rinaldi Ortega

As a quiet child and angst-y teen, Michelle loved to read and write. When poetry found her again about fifteen years ago, the Tweetspeak community brought her multiple resources on journey, from content to courses to in-person meetups. She hosted Tweetspeak’s very first Mischief Cafe! A speech-language pathologist by day, Michelle's avocations include travel across the country and the globe, as well as digital and black and white film photography. Michelle is the author of Don't Ask Why from Seven Kitchens Press. Her microchapbook, Tissue Memory, is forthcoming from Porkbelly Press. You can find her work at www.michelleortegawrites.com and on IG @michellebelleslp.

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