As an artist I think about this. Right now I'm preparing for a show in April where a group of poets each created a poem. The poems were given to artists (me) to create a work that visually best describes what the poet is saying in their poem. Not easy for me. Can I express with color and form what she's saying? Maybe if I knew the poet, but I don't. I must rely on how this poem affects me. Anyway...thanks for this.
Interpretation? I keep thinking of the Japanese kintsugi...putting something back together in a beautiful way. The poem (I feel) speaks of loss and the poet cooks to recover...how do we "recover" from loss?
Hmmm—I think communion is a mighty fine word. It’s not religious for me but more about empathy. Poets put our feelings into words. Of course, Clifton is also right. It asks questions for the reader to ponder.
I write poetry because I have to get out my grief and anger and sorrow and it allows others to commiserate. And hope? If you don’t have that, it becomes hard to live.
I ramble.
Barrett Warner wrote two poems for me. How lucky am I. Both were so intimate I had to hide them.
Very interesting, this. As you know, I've read up nothing about poetry theory nor any literary theories (must be my laziness and my short attention spab0. For me it's always just (maybe just is the wrong and unjust word) been the most visceral way possible of saying anything at all, something that prose just can't achieve, something that even the spoken word can't achieve. I suppose I've always equated it most with abstract or impressionist art (not that far removed from each other), those impulsive brush strokes which obey no order. But then, as a badly-read man, I would say that.
O yes, hope is a practice, a sustained effort to imagine things being better, and to imagine how I might participate in things becoming better. Has nothing to do properly with *expecting* things to get better. Who knows? Who could know? Our job is to make things better. Whether we succeed is on the knees of the gods.
As an artist I think about this. Right now I'm preparing for a show in April where a group of poets each created a poem. The poems were given to artists (me) to create a work that visually best describes what the poet is saying in their poem. Not easy for me. Can I express with color and form what she's saying? Maybe if I knew the poet, but I don't. I must rely on how this poem affects me. Anyway...thanks for this.
I wonder what it wouuld mean if the instructions weren't "describe " but "speak with"?
Interpretation? I keep thinking of the Japanese kintsugi...putting something back together in a beautiful way. The poem (I feel) speaks of loss and the poet cooks to recover...how do we "recover" from loss?
I hope you are inspired by the project you're involved in. It sounds like it'd be satisfying.
Hmmm—I think communion is a mighty fine word. It’s not religious for me but more about empathy. Poets put our feelings into words. Of course, Clifton is also right. It asks questions for the reader to ponder.
I write poetry because I have to get out my grief and anger and sorrow and it allows others to commiserate. And hope? If you don’t have that, it becomes hard to live.
I ramble.
Barrett Warner wrote two poems for me. How lucky am I. Both were so intimate I had to hide them.
Yes! I am. ❤️
Very interesting, this. As you know, I've read up nothing about poetry theory nor any literary theories (must be my laziness and my short attention spab0. For me it's always just (maybe just is the wrong and unjust word) been the most visceral way possible of saying anything at all, something that prose just can't achieve, something that even the spoken word can't achieve. I suppose I've always equated it most with abstract or impressionist art (not that far removed from each other), those impulsive brush strokes which obey no order. But then, as a badly-read man, I would say that.
O yes, hope is a practice, a sustained effort to imagine things being better, and to imagine how I might participate in things becoming better. Has nothing to do properly with *expecting* things to get better. Who knows? Who could know? Our job is to make things better. Whether we succeed is on the knees of the gods.