Checking In
Recently I viewed an interview with Robert Hass, who won this year’s Pulitzer Prize for poetry for his book of poems entitled “Time and Materials.” He wrote these poems while carrying out the duties of the United States Poet Laureate. He called them a means of “checking in” with himself while fulfilling his public role.
That stopped me cold. I thought about the days when I filled notebooks with poems, short stories, essays, and more. And I realized it had been more than a decade since I “checked in” with myself.
I flipped through one of those notebooks a week ago while my girlfriend, the wonderful Jeannie, looked on. And she wondered why I didn’t try to take some of the gems within those spiral-bound pages and do something with them.
I didn’t have a good answer.
I’ve decided to dust off the better pieces in those old notebooks, and perhaps put together an e-Book of poetry and another of short stories. I may even attempt to see if I can find a publisher who will put them in print.
(Completing the first issue of the Victory Streak remains an active project on my docket, before anyone asks.)
My loyal blog readers will get to see my poems and short stories first in these threads. I hope you enjoy the following poem, entitled “We Should Have Known Better”:
“We Should Have Known Better”
In the bosom of fire
as it beckons against the starless darkness
you and I rush in where demons fear to treadBathed in hatred
underneath the heel of despair
We eulogize our love where they bury and number the deadBut it’s a passing thing, you see
like the shift from day to night
as swiftly as I lead us to sadness
I can make everything rightIn the bosom of light
cast against a cloudless sky
you and I rush in where goodness fears to treadFilled with devotion
under the heel of love
we resurrect our affection where they disturb the deadBut it’s a passing thing, you see
like a change of the season
I can place my love on a pedestal
and knock it down without reasonSo the pendulum savagely swings,
chemicals boil in my head
synapses crackle with lightning
I smile and silently wish I were deadI lay down at night and dream of a place where I cannot hurt us
but even in my dreams my palms
are stained with the blood of a thousand regrets
May 10th, 2008 at 5:26 pm
Good luck. It seems pretty good, but I’m not the guy to ask about stuff like this. Poetry is one of those things that I’ve never been any good at judging. It’s like asking a guy who doesn’t eat Japanese food if Yakitori is a good example of Japanese food or not.
I can tell you I like it, but I can’t tell you if it’s good poetry or not.
May 10th, 2008 at 8:19 pm
Wow. WOW.
First, huge commendations for sharing that. Maybe five people have ever seen my poetry, mostly because I put some REALLY personal revelatory stuff in there.
Poetry’s HARD. I worked on one for a month straight, and still wasn’t satisfied.
May 15th, 2008 at 12:07 pm
“I can tell you I like it, but I can’t tell you if it’s good poetry or not.”
Having lived with this rewrite for a little while now, I believe I can answer that question. It’s not good poetry.
Poetry is about using imagery to convey an idea or a feeling. The imagery I selected for this poem for the most part sounded cool to me on a superificial level. If someone asked me why I began the poem with the phrase “In the bosom of fire,” I don’t think I could answer that question. This is, therefore, a mostly poorly thought-out and ineptly written poem.
Still, there is one gem in here. The second-to-last stanza is just about perfect — and I can build something around that. That’s enough to have made this piece worthwhile for me.
I’m not beating myself up (since some of you worry about that). But I now recognize how high the bar is set. Reaching it will be a challenge. I relish the thought of tackling it.