The way of desire

A poem, some process thoughts, and some link love

On the Cusp
 
Raindrops bead on crimson petals tucked 
one into the other, crystals scattered 
on the belled skirts of an opulent gown,

and supple-spined stems arch toward 
the sun as if straining to meet a partner 
who will twirl their satin petticoats wide.

I neither inherited nor planted the peony, 
and yet, in May's last cool days, hers 
are the garden's flowers I most crave.

Isn't that so often the way of desire, rising 
unexpectedly, needing from us only 
that we not mistake its first sprout for a weed?

One morning last week as I was seeing Cane off to work, I realized that our peonies were on the cusp of blooming, and I ran back inside to get my phone so I could take a photo of it. Why did I feel so compelled? I mean, who needs another photo of a peony about to bloom, seemingly everyone’s favorite flower to share on Instagram this time of year? What was important enough about this particular flower that it could get me to run at 7:03 in the morning? In my slippers and pajamas, no less?

I didn’t really know, until I found myself reading 26th Avenue Poet (Elizabeth)’s re-introduction to her poetry newsletter (along with a poem I really liked) and decided to try her approach to writing poetry, which is refreshingly simple:

Here’s what happened: this is what I saw, heard, smelt, experienced, and when it happened I … laughed? Frowned? Felt heartache? Felt something. Remembered the moment and the feeling, wrote it down as vividly as I could so that you could experience it too.

This way into a poem reminded me of my very first experience with writing poetry, in Mrs. Marchbank’s 8th grade creative writing class. She had us bring in a photo we liked, and then assigned us to write three description-packed sentences about the photo. The sentences were to be focused on concrete details, not abstract ideas. I’d forgotten that the way into a poem could be so easy. Perhaps should be so easy.

How did I find the 26th Avenue Poet? I’m not sure. I think a link from another Elizabeth (Beggins, who shares a weekly essay that is always worth reading, and whose most recent post had me thinking about how glad I am that I was not able to “weed” the large pine that dominates our front yard) led me to her, and then I followed or subscribed, and something made me click on the post she shared re-introducing her newsletter, where she wrote about her approach to poetry.

On the same day I read Elizabeth’s post, I also read a similar sort of poem from Tamsin of 3 Red Cabbage Heads. Her vivid sensory description of winter also made me feel like trying to capture my moment with the peony.

I don’t remember how I found Tamsin and her work, either, but I’m pretty sure she is how I found Nelly Bryce and her Poetry Pals, which featured “Poetry of the everyday” last week. Along with poems celebrating the ordinary was an invitation to write about our own ordinary, everyday lives. Call it serendipity, a nudge from the universe, or just paying attention, but I like it when something unseen seems to be pointing me in a direction I need to go. Or will just enjoy going.

All three writers fell into the soil of my reading garden without me going out and finding them and saying: That! That’s what I need to fill in that hole in the bed. And yet, how delighted I am to have found them growing there, and to have stopped and looked long enough to determine that they are definitely not weeds.

So, like so many gardeners do, I’m sharing what I have with you. Offering a few seeds or a starts. Here’s one more, if you’re interested in blogs by poets: Dave Bonta’s ReVerse, a weekly compendium of online writing by poets. I discovered Dave some years ago now, when he included links to a previous blog of mine. When I asked him how he found me, he said he wasn’t sure—that he probably followed a link from one of the poets he follows. Now, poets he he’s shared are some of my favorite regular reads: Ren Powell, Rachel Barenblat, Kathryn Anna Marshall, Kristin McHenry, Kristin Berkey-Abbott.

And so it goes.

Petticoats in full twirl

Have been thinking some about process this week. I’ve been going back to writing my very first drafts by hand, something I stopped doing sometime in the late 90’s, probably. I like the way it slows me down. (Sharing a raw very first draft feels a bit like lifting my petticoats to the world.)

Let’s spread more seeds!

If you’ve got a favorite online read (about poetry or anything else that falls under the “creative” umbrella), please share in the comments. Not that I’m able to keep up with all the people I’m already following/subscribed to, but that’s a good problem to have, right?

As always, I’m also happy to talk about anything this post sparks in your thoughts. Always love to hear from you.

If you liked this post, please give it a heart and/or share it. That helps put it in front of other readers AND it brightens my day.

And if you haven’t yet subscribed, today would be a great day to do that.