Sometimes I write with photographs, scribing the wet reds and yellows of our sidewalks covered by the fall, the lights of idling delivery vans how they create silhouettes out of seniors walking, walking sometimes the poetry comes through strings my dulcimer, guitar or voice, on risers surrounded by other vocal poets lifting their chins slightly for the higher notes. Sometimes I write in the dirt, harvesting basil and mint, or using crosshatch and contour lines, following the form of clouds, maybe ships (if I'm feeling adventurous) I'm feeling adventurous today sailing on a sea of metaphor and simile, so today I write with you.
Each November and April the online poetry workshop we call The Waters hosts a rousing poem-a-day ably moderated by Toni Clark and by the individual poets themselves. Write a poem a day, post, and comment (simple comments are welcome) on at least five other poems.
The idea is that your poetic muse will come to you if they trust you’re going to be there, every day. And it does work - within a week or so poetry will return, even to those who haven’t written since last November!
However, we must forgive ourselves when we write simple or shallow or unfinished poetry - we write and we edit later, when November is over.
Above is from Day 1 for me, and I share it here as a kind of ‘start your engines!’ clarion call. Will I see you on The Waters?
What a glorious Day One, Jude!