So, I haven't done a thing since reactivating the blog. And perhaps that's another thing I need to work on. I truly miss the communities that sprang up around blogging.
One thing I've done more of since leaving this place has been to try my hand at poetry. I've long wished I could express myself that way, and like many things get frustrated that I'm not instantly great at them. I want to be great, to be able to put in words what many people can only feel. But… I'm not. And that's okay. I'm finding my way, and, as I've discovered, I need to create. Something. Photos. Poems. A script. A cabin (more on that coming).
One day, some time ago. I was chatting with my sister. She was on holidays and I asked how the birding was going. She replied that it was raining and I texted back "Birds disappear in the rain". That line seemed to want to be a poem, so I quickly jotted down one. And texted her with it. Perhaps five minutes later.
Birds cease to exist when it rains,
their form begins to fade at the first drops
the feathers blur, ever hazier
until you can see through them,
like waves of heat in the desert.
But if you strain, a song remains
somewhere in the ether.
Not much, but it was a start. And it came to define my process, as flawed as it might be. A line, a word, something that unfolds in front of me, will want a poem built around it. And I will quickly bang it out. I rarely edit or labour over it. Write it down and call it done.
That first poem didn't lead to much, and eventually I decided that I needed to drive myself some how. One of the best bits of advice on writing I had was "write" get it down. Whether it is a screen play or a poem, or perhaps even a blog post. Write. With screenplays I discovered that the best thing that worked for me was to sit down and write it out, start to finish. Then go back and make it better. And even if they will never see the light of day, or the light of a screen, I will have created it. And that, the act of creating something, is the important thing. For me.
So at some point, a few years ago, I decided that if I would write a poem every Friday. Inspired or otherwise. Write something down. Take a line, a word, something someone had said to me, a bit of light on the horizon, and write a poem. Every Friday. Some times I'd be writing one at five minutes to midnight. To get it on (virtual) paper before Friday had vanished. And it worked. I wrote. I don't necessarily think I wrote well, but I wrote.
Eventually I gave up my Friday poems, but continued to write as things inspired me, when a muse inspired me, when the light caught my breath, or a curve of skin made me pause. Mostly I write poetry when the moment takes me. And that became my tagline when I post online #PoetryWhenTheMomentTakesMe.
So there you have it. Here is my latest poem, a rare edited one, as I disliked the final lines. But as all of them, written quickly and done. Formed after watching a Raven wheel to the ground while I was driving somewhere.
It sweeps around
Curving towards earth
Black feathers flared
Against the orange sky
Of a hidden Sun
Is beauty born
In these moments?
On Raven wings
Stretched across heaven?
Comments
3 responses
I so love reading your poetry, Clare. Beautiful in every way a poem captures a moment. I look forward to your posts and poems as we all make our journey on this beautiful planet.
Thank you Robin. I sure miss the communities built up around our blogs.
I miss that community as well. I wish New Dharma Bums hadn’t been hacked in 2023. That changed everything for us.