Thanks for joining me for the last Poetry Monday until September. Today I’m reading two poems from Teresa Carson’s latest book “My Crooked House.” The poems are “To My House” and “My Crooked House.” Enjoy!
Thanks for joining me for Poetry Monday once again. Today’s poem is “Old Tongue” by Jackie Kay. Enjoy!
Thanks so much for joining me for this week’s Poetry Monday. Today’s poem is by Robinson Jeffers and it is called “Diagram.” This poem appears in his book titled “The Double Axe and Other Poems.” Enjoy!
I have never been glued to the coverage of a presidential inauguration before, but yesterday, as poet Richard Blanco read his poem “One Today,” I was entranced by my computer screen (my mouth may have been hanging open slightly). And after reading the poem and watching the footage again, I am just as enrapt.
You know how many people have this one moment that inspired them to pursue a certain life path or someone they really look up to? Typically, this happens as a child. I really think that moment took place yesterday for me.
As can be seen in some of my past posts, I have quite a few ambitions. But something felt different in me as I watched Richard Blanco read. As the first Latino and openly gay inaugural poet, his reading was ground-breaking. What better person to form a poem when the nation needs unity more than ever?
On a personal level, as a Latina myself, I think the reason his reading struck me was because it was the first time I really felt as if there are no limits to what I can accomplish. I can be published, go to the moon, teach, travel, read in front of a national audience, and, most importantly, have my art taken seriously.
Blanco’s poem was expansive and inspiring. It had nods to national tragedy and national scenery, yet it also got very specific with it’s mention of “pencil-yellow school buses” and fruit “arrayed like rainbows/begging our praise.” I especially liked the ending:
“…all of us —
facing the stars
hope — a new constellation
waiting for us to map it,
waiting for us to name it — together”
What I love about these lines, and the poem in general, is that it focuses on the unity of this country despite our differences or, perhaps, because of them. And isn’t that the point, not just of inauguration day, but also of this nation?
Maybe I’m being dewey-eyed and cheesy, but the inaugural poem felt a lot like truth in its remembrance of where this nation came from. It felt a lot like hope.
Thanks for much for joining me today for Poetry Monday! And Happy Labor Day 🙂 Today’s poem comes from the summer issue of the Threepenny Review. It’s called “Remake” by Dean Young. Enjoy!
(side note before the video: I mentioned earlier in the summer that I would only continue the bi-weekly poems through the end of August. I’ve decided to make Poetry Monday bi-weekly on a permanent basis. This will allow me to write other content on the blog. Thanks for understanding ya’ll!)
Thanks for joining me for this week’s Poetry Monday! Today’s poem comes from the latest issue of The New Yorker. It is called “The Cello” by Ruth Padel. Enjoy!
A few weeks ago, a friend of mine posed the question, “Is poetry a spiritual practice?” I thought about this for a while, not because I wasn’t sure if writing was a spiritual practice, but because I couldn’t quite articulate why I believed it was. Even though the question was posed via facebook status, I spent quite some time crafting an e-mail response…because I can’t say anything concisely. And this is what I came up with:
Poetry is a way for me to connect with people and nature, everything around me, which are all ways to connect with God. I’m reminded of somethingone of my favorite authors, Don Miller, said: “We connect with God when we ask Him to defeat in us all the ways in which He cannot connect, all the untruth and games and manipulation and we come to Him finally saying, ‘Okay, I get it, you really are good, defeat in me the lack of faith, let your goodness rid me of the stuff that doesn’t connect with you or the world around me.'”
Poetry is a unique form of prayer. It is a practice that allows me to cut through all of my cluttered thoughts and feelings so that I can get to what matters, what I need to hear and what I need to share with others. It is my way of getting on my knees and crying out, it is my way of talking with God, it is my way of asking forgiveness, it is my way of asking for fire.
I’m also reminded of something the poet Matthew Dickman said in an interview. He was asked about what sparked him to write a poem. He told about how he’s usually moved to write while musing about something he enjoys. Matthew went on to say: “I suppose it’s the “like” that moves me to begin writing a poem—some sort of celebration in my chest wanting some words to understand itself, some sort of grief needing a body.” There are these urges, these pushes to write that must be followed and, in the process, feel sacred. There is so much that goes on in one life, sometimes these occurrences beg to be written down.
Thoughts? Is writing a spiritual practice? Can it even be considered a spiritual discipline?