This might seem like a strange title for the first in a series about writing and reading more poetry. However, I’m pretty sure that anyone who dabbles in poetry will recognise the sentiment.
First things first though, what is this project going to look like week by week.
Each Sunday morning you’ll receive a poem/blog post. Imagine it as a letter from a poetry pal wanting to send you some poetry they think you will love.
Sometimes I’ll write these. Often they will (hopefully) be from members of our community and beyond (I’ve written to some poets who I think we’d like to hear from to ask if they want to play - if you have any contacts or suggestions of poets you’d like to hear from pleeeease do let me know). There will be a poem to read and a prompt for a poem to write. As well as a story about why the author chose/wrote that poem, what inspired them and why it works (on all levels). So we can hopefully read and discover new poetry, be nudged to write more poetry and learn from others on what makes a poem work (and therefore how to improve our own writing).
I will also send additional posts here and there about the ‘Year of 100 Poems’ project. Ideas, tips, updates on progress. As well as a monthly poetry book club. ALL the poetry.
I want this to be a beautiful accessible gathering of poetry lovers but I now know (and am so incredibly grateful) that some people are also up for a little more. Some want that accountability to write (I need this!) / to read and understand poetry a little deeper / want to share and develop our writing and do so with a smaller group / or to try out reading and or listening to poetry out loud (eeek). So for paid subscribers we will start doing some of this too. I’m thinking poetry in pyjamas events, poetry book discussions, accountability threads and sharing any poetry we write after the weekly writing prompts. Of course you can also subscribe to be in the room but without any pressure to partake. Honestly, I can’t wait. If you haven’t joined the community yet, we are right at the beginning of making some magic…
Right, that’s that. For now. Of course there are so many other ideas but shall we get going?
I must mention that I have the most immense imposter syndrome writing about poetry to poetry lovers. Immense. But I am ploughing on regardless. Because that is the advice I would give to anyone else. And this is our safe place to play, right?!
If you would prefer to skip to the end, you will find a poem to read and a writing prompt.
When the poetry dries up,
it is normally for me because life has got too busy. Not always, but often. I’m not always too busy to write necessarily (the notes page of my phone is priceless in this regard) but I’m too busy to notice in the first place.
Or, I notice, but I don’t (can’t / don’t want to) hold my attention on the noticing for long enough. Or I decide that what I’ve noticed isn’t worthy of exploration.
Or before I have properly noticed I start to over-think and try too hard, I cast a critical eye. When I’ve started asking, "what word could I use to describe the sky this morning," the real noticing has already started to drift away. And I may well still get a good poem or a one line, of course, but I sense that the magic, the poems where I think afterwards, "where did that come from?" (the few and far betweens tbf) don’t come from a place of logic but rather some place I can’t articulate, some place deeper in my heart.
I’m not talking about poems being creative lightning bolts here. It’s the noticings, I mean. The raw material that can later be gathered into something recognisable. Not the end poem with all its editing and technique draped across it (the elements that I personally found fairly daunting for many years, still do) - all that does take skill and experience and knowledge - but the noticings in the first place. The most crucial (in my completely inexperienced opinion) part.
I'm not saying great writing doesn't require both. Too much internal monologue without later editing can be confusing to read. It doesn’t always invite others in. You need to put in the hours for part two, undoubtedly. But I'm talking about part one. The part available to all of us. The noticing in the first place. We are all poets in this regard and poetry is indeed everywhere. This is the bit that excites me the most.
I love it when I am able to follow the first glimpse of an idea and delay judgement. When I’m not moving on to editing before allowing myself to experience entirely. The poems that come from noticing so deeply and intensely, with such belief and bravery in something more than yourself, that you can taste them like you can sometimes, but not always, taste water.
Oh my goodness is it hard to listen sometimes. And watch. And wait. Or at least I find it hard. And sometimes wonder a little. And trust. Argh that's the tough part. You open yourself up. It's a tender place to hang out isn’t it, glassy and ungraspable. Sometimes tearful. There's no clear entrance or exit. Of course, when you open yourself up to noticing it's not just the beautiful that feels more beautiful, but the painful. The writing of poetry can intensify all sorts of emotions, it can feel very visceral too.
Kids do it completely naturally, and often, of course. That's why they make the best poets. They are in awe at a ladybird one minute, producing metaphors and descriptions to die for, and then curled into a ball in despair at a lost toy the next, passing you every single heave of their shoulders, finishing up with a ridiculously on-point one liner that you want to write somewhere and never forget.
And so I try to follow their lead. Not hope too hard for a great poem, or for any poem. When the poetry dries up (and it does) I try to go back to noticing. And if I notice and notice alone, that is enough. And if I do manage to write a little something down, a few words perhaps, an idea, a memory, then great, I get to experience the noticing twice. A little love note is formed. A little love note to noticing the world. Maybe that will come to something.
There are so many ways to nudge the noticing on, aren’t there?! Sometimes novelty works (novelty in life more broadly is underrated in my opinion). Last week in Scotland on a sunrise walk I was noticing at every turn. Other people asking us the question via essays or poems - have you noticed? (yes please, a big part of what I hope will come from Poetry Pals and these weekly posts). And other times it’s about practising persistence. Commitment to leaving space on an empty page and then turning up with a pen, regardless. A little of both. Often.
And if I decide I want to share my noticings with others, then another door opens, more things to note. I am hoping we can do so here within the community, quietly, safely. Perhaps more widely. Beginning the rest of the work (equally hard to be fair). The second part, the moulding and the crafting of a poem.
Or not. Whatever.
I will never call poetry writing a hardship. It can be hard, but it is not a hardship. For me poetry writing is (mostly) pure pleasure. And I'm determined to keep it that way. So if that means that I stand, not back but to the side slightly, for a week or two. Or as long as necessary. I will. As long as I remind myself to notice what happens. Not close myself off to all that we must notice.
I’ll meet my poems there, where I know they will be waiting.
So with that in mind, this week I am sending you a poem by (in my eyes) the noticing queen, Mary Oliver.
You might need to ‘allow images’ to see it (would I be better writing it out next time?)
Good Morning, Mary Oliver, Blue Horses, 2014.
And a writing prompt:
This week I am planning to write a poem inspired by Mary Oliver and her poem Good Morning. Five noticings that I will collect over the course of the week, using her structure to hold me in place. I’ve struggled to get started this year so I’m hoping this will be the perfect way to slide into, ‘A year of 100 poems”.
Join me?
Nelly this is beautiful and almost made me cry with how from the heart it is. It made me realise that for all of winter I have ‘shut up shop’ and closed myself off from noticing and feeling because, because? Because so many reasons, but mostly because intensive indoors 24 hour parenting 2 per-school children AND because the noticing can be painful and lonely and frustrating if you never get the time to finish the thoughts or write anything down. There has been no writing of any sort for months which shows I have definitely been in some sort of survival mode. Here’s to slowly opening myself up again 🤍
A really beautiful post, thank you, and I loved the prompt. I have been out of the practice of writing poetry for about 18 months or so. I can't promise, particularly when the day to day juggle with a 1 and a 3 year old picks up again, that I'll always be able to write. I have made myself the promise though that I will always read poetry, even if it's only one poem a day. This week I've been reading Maya Angelou, Seamus Heaney and Wndy Cope. I've found they generally do -spark- something and get me writing, which has been so joyful. Look forward to noticing this week x