Poetry and Politics

 

Photo by Kathleen Tyler Conklin

An Oxymoron?  Recently on Capitol Hill you had a twenty-one hour display of the spoken word that was not poetic (despite a dash of Dr. Seuss).  Language that soars---not so much.  Even though the government has shut down, Congress has not remained silent.  What I have heard emanating from that august (?) body has not inspired me or moved me to anything, only perhaps to the edge of despair.

The shutdown has caused hardships for many. It may seem trite to complain about a seemingly small loss that I am experiencing…the loss of the Panda Cam.  The windy words emanating from Congress caused me to turn to a more contemplative activity…quietly and in silence watching the Panda Cam daily. The only noise I heard was the squealing of the five week old Panda cub and the Mei Xiang's solicitous licking of her baby. That scene rested my mind and soothed my soul.

Now it is no longer available on my computer. I miss it. To fill that precious time, I turned to writing a poem about Mei Xiang.

 

Photo by Kathleen Tyler Conklin

BIG MOMMA

Big Momma needed a tiny nudge

to change her ways,

smaller space, less food, no desire to roam

from her cubby hole these days.

Far from her adoring fans

no need to strut her stuff

She's got other things to do

much sweeter than bamboo.

Wonder where she's been?

She's mothering in her den.

A place of peace and calm

Big Momma now a Mom.

A Good Bad Poem

Photo of Federal Hill Park by Kathleen Tyler Conklin

An essay by Thomas Vinciguerra in the New York Times Book Review of August 18th critiques the hundred year old poem "Trees" by Joyce Kilmer.

There is ingrained in the subconscious of many Americans the first two lines of Kilmer's poem "I think that I shall never see/A poem lovely as a tree."  and they leap readily to our national lips. Most critics (including Vinciguerra) think "Trees"  is a terrible poem and it has been parodied by many.

It wasn't the only poem that Kilmer wrote.  According to Vinciguerra, he wrote several volumes equally simplistic and sappy before he was killed in World War 1 at age 31. Perhaps had he the chance, he would have grown into a better poet.

Does he have no defenders?  George Orwell defends Kipling's "Mandalay" as a good bad poem writes Vinciguerra, a term that seems applicable to Kilmer's works.  We can all get some enjoyment out of these seemingly trite verses. We remember Kilmer's "Trees" and relate on an emotional level. Though perhaps not moved profoundly, if it makes us once look up from our technological devices to take in the beauty of a tree, it is a poem worth reading and remembering.

Happy Birthday to "Trees".  May you live another hundred years.

Poetry Doesn't Howl Anymore

Allen Ginsberg

Another blow against contemporary poetry surfaced in Mark Edmundson's essay "Poetry Slam" in the July issue of Harper's Bazaar.  He complains that today's poets  are not ambitious enough.  Ambitious in the sense that they lack a big vision and are concerned only with small themes. They are writing in the sound of their own voices---their own uniqueness, rather than speaking expansively. He bemoans the missing 'we and our' in poems.

 

I think, to a degree, he has a point.  Art does reflect the times in which it lives. The times they are narcissistic, which causes poets to draw inward and be focused on their own experiences, rather than facing outward.  It is easier to ruminate and stay in a circumscribed comfort zone, rather than take on the world and the future.

 

Edmundson misses some of the 'outward facing' poets of the past like Shelley, Yeats, Williams, and Ginsberg, to name just a few mentioned in his article. This is a call for poets to speak more often about our common experiences.

 

I think there are contemporary poets that do speak to larger, universal themes, among them Natasha Trethewey (appointed for a second term as poet laureate) and David Whyte.To quote David… "A good poem, is a brave intuition of what could be or what could have been, it looks life straight in the face, unflinching, sincere, equal to revelation through loss or gain."

 

So poets…write whatever you want, however you want, but on certain days summon your courage to think big, look life in the face and howl.

 

Poetry and the Moon

 

Moon over Lower Kimball Lake by Kathleen Tyler Conklin

 

The moon fascinates.  The moon is mysterious.  The moon is rising and as it ascends the horizon tonight, it will look gigantic.  This is an illusion caused by the random coming together when the moon is at its fullest and closest to the earth. It occurs about once in every fourteen full moons acceding to Wikipedia.

 

It happens this year on Sunday, June 23rd at about 7 am, but you don't have to rise bleary-eyed to see it.  It will be plenty plump, Saturday and Sunday nights around 8pm and 9pm, respectively.

 

Many poets have written about the moon.  Shakespeare uses the moon theme often in his writings, most notably in "A Midsummer Night's Dream". Other moon obsessed poets are Wordsworth and Dickinson.

 

You just can't get away from it. The moon is magic. Tonight and tomorrow night it will be super magical. Go take a look. Then, write a poem.  Here's mine.

 

Moon Joy

 

I saw the moon

the other night,

glowing with

the strangest light.

 

It hung suspended low

behind twisted strands,

orange-swaying yo-yo

held by unseen hands.

 

I inhaled its milky vapor

dazzled by this heavenly toy,

reached to touch its misty taper

caught rapturously in moon-joy.

 

 

Poetry as Cultural Force

Photo by Kathleen Tyler Conklin
 

I attended Natasha Trethewey's closing lecture May 1st at the Library of Congress. Rather than quote directly, I will paraphrase her last words as poet laureate and write some thoughts that she left for me to absorb and to share with you.

 

Natasha focused her remarks around the theme of poetry as a cultural force.  Poetry gives us something that cannot be found elsewhere.  We as individuals and a nation turn to it when we need it.  Poetry then becomes a collective container for the profound experiences of our lives---birth, love, commitment, loss and grief.  It illuminates these experiences and gives them a necessary utterance.

 

To support these ideas, Natasha read from some of her favorite poets so that we as a group could "revel in the pleasure of poetry."

 

This pleasure was followed by another…standing in the Great Hall of the beautiful Thomas Jefferson Building…then walking out into the cool May evening and seeing the dome of our nation's Capitol glowing against a darkening, cerulean sky, illuminating for all the hope of freedom and the freedom of hope.  Symbol as cultural force.

 

("Thrall", Natasha Trethewey's newest poetry collection was published in the fall of 2012.)

 

February Chill

Photo by Kathleen Tyler Conklin

My friend Cindy remarked that she thought February was the dreariest month of all.  I always gave that award to January in my childhood, because not much exciting happened in that month.  For me, February brought Valentine's Day, two school holidays and the most egotistical turn on of them all---my birthday.  Even something happened during Lent (which often began in February)---ashy foreheads, meatless meals and church rituals , which strangely managed to enliven the routine of dull January days. 

However, I notice that my "special" day in February isn't quite the fun event it used to be because I have to now celebrate it in the chilly environs of "elderhood".  Friends, food and wine do warm things up a bit, but I know as I swallow the last piece of birthday cake, it will be time to face again one of the major tasks of my mounting maturity---the dreaded downsizing. I'm working on it slowly, as are many of my friends. The angst of it all inspired me to write a poem.  Take a moment to chill out and read it.

 

 

Divestiture

 

Sorting, tossing, throwing.

Investing in divesting.

 

Memories circle, whirl into piles on the floor.

 

Regrets, remorse sail into garbage bags...  puffing out

with projects not completed.

 

Brittle papers cackle…testifying to procrastination.

The ceremony of divestiture, sad but cathartic

surrendering a lifetime of debris

in a solemn procession to the curb.

 

Poetry Gets A Bad Rap

Lost in the poetry of music at the Inaugural Parade - Kathleen Tyler Conklin

Several "Washington Post" writers have given poetry a bad rap in the last week.  One questioned whether Richard Blanco's poem "One Today" was even poetry.  Hank Stuever called it an "essay-like" poem and Alexandri Petri wonders whether poetry is obsolete.

Whew!  I'm pleased it got so much attention…but are they really paying attention? Was its  'poetriness' questioned because it didn't rhyme?  or because it was easily understood?  or because it didn't cause us to "keel over" as movies do according to Petri's column?

Petri claims we no longer need poetry and the playwright Gwydion Suilebhan declares "Poetry is dead." She says that is is blather, nonsense or gibberish. Take that poetry.  And as a final blow she adds "It's zombie poetry."

Well I beg to differ. I am ready to fight for the right of poetry to exist. It is alive and well and living in the hearts and minds of many non-zombie human beings. It is all around us in books, poetry readings (Natasha Tretheway, the poet laureate working and reading at the Library of Congress for one example), poetry workshops, writing groups, and yes even in rap and song lyrics.

It is on TV in the current PBS program "Shakespeare Uncovered" (yes, Shakespeare is a poet) and on radio thanks to Garrison Keillor. Bill Moyers does his part online.

It is all around us and still has power. Petri claims because it gave us the news, it had prestige in the old days. It isn't vital according to her because we have nothing so urgent like the wounds left by World Was I to express.

She asks, "What now is so urgent that it can be said only in poetry?"  My answer is---whatever has been urgent all these years is still urgent…love, death, war, suffering, joy, nature, connections, confusion, pain, cruelty, beauty, betrayal, loss, happiness.  In other words the human experience.

How better to express it than in poetry? Poetry has the power to focus our minds, express what we feel in distilled language, move our hearts, and to let us take a moment to breathe (as Blanco said in his poem)…breathe in the images of our country, our homes. our roots, our loves.

I thought it was a good poem and a good moment for our nation.

Poetry lovers unite.