It’s About Me? Or Is It?

Sara Robinson

It’s About Me? Or Is It?

In a recent New York Review of Books, I read an extended essay titled, “The Illusion of the First Person.” I was quite intrigued by the contents and saw that much of what the article contained applied to poetry. In fact, some of the types of essays can be compared to types of poetry.



For instance: structural essay is similar to a sonnet in that both present an argument or premise, then conclude or resolve. The formal/impersonal essay is meant to inform or persuade. This is similar to a lyric poem which also can be compared to a personal essay. In poetry, contrasting to the prose of the essay, the poet is using poetic forms to state the case, as it were.

There are just as many poems that have the plural form, “we” to present the personal essay. In this case the writer wants to pluralize as if there are many who feel the same way. For instance, the acclaimed poet, Nikki Giovanni, started her notable speech/ poem, “We are Virginia Tech” with the lines “we are sad today and we will be sad for quite a while…” Often the use of “we” can bring comforting inclusiveness.

The challenge for us poets in the use of First Person is to ensure our writing does not become petty or show a lack of poetic finesse. We don’t want to come across as preachy or sanctimonious; but we want our wordsmithing to capture attention and commitment from the reader. Consider your poetry as an offering of your “self.”

So the question is: Poetry in the First Person; It’s About Me? Or Is It?

We strive to be the best we can!


Until next time…

Sara M. Robinson, founder of the Lonesome Mountain Pro(s)e Writers’ Workshop, and former Instructor of a course on Contemporary American Poets at UVA-OLLI, was poetry columnist for Southern Writers Magazine and inagural poetry editor for Virginia Literary Journal. She has served as guest lecturer at UVA’s College at Wise, Wise, VA. Her poetry has appeared in various anthologies, including We Grew Wings and Flew (2014), Scratching Against the Fabric (2015), Virginia Writer’s Club Centennial Anthology (2017), Blue Ridge Anthologies and Mizmor Anthology (2018). Journals include: Loch Raven Review, The Virginia Literary Journal, vox poetica, Jimson Weed, Whisky Advocate, and Poetica. She is poet and author of Love Always, Hobby and Jessie (2009), Two Little Girls in a Wading Pool (2012), A Cruise in Rare Waters (2013 Stones for Words (2014), Sometimes the Little Town (2016), a finalist for the Poetry Society of Virginia’s 2017 Book Award. In 2019, Needville, her poetry about effects of coal mining on SW Virginia was released and in 2020 debuted as play in Charlottesville. Her most recent publication is Simple River (2020, Cyberwit).

Poetry and Assumptions

Sara Robinson

Let’s start with the definition: Per Webster’s New World Dictionary (College Edition, 1964).

Before you go, “how old is that,” let me tell you that this particular dictionary is the best literary

friend I have ever had. Both of us are aging well together. So, the definition as it applies to

secular uses: anything taken for granted; supposition; presumption. One could add that

assumption implies taking into association something, or supposing something could be a fact.

Maybe even taking on a pretense can be an assumption.

What does this have to do with poetry? For starters assumptions are the backbones of most

writing. We let our minds folly off into weird or unusual thoughts and as they congeal into lines

and pictures, we now see a composition start to form. We may pull a line from a magazine or

online and now, we have a trigger. Think of yourself as an “assuming thief poet.” Take this line

from Shelley:

“… Memory gave me all of her / That even fancy dares to claim.— / Her presence had

made weak and tame…” //

What can you do with this line? I, for example, could start something like memory is a fool for

me. I always loved her more than she loved me. But my life dwelled in another place & time in

which she didn’t even know of me. Such are dreams converted to new memory. The lines don’t

have to be good to start; get them down and let your mind wander.

How about a few other assumptions to contemplate: The train is always on time. He always

orders tuna salad. She never thanks me. July is always hot. North is always north.

Underlying every poem ever written is a basic assumption. Sometimes it is a secret only the poet

knows. Sometimes the poet gives us hints as the revelation of some truth. Or supposition.

My favorite poem to illustrate this is Maxine Kumin’s “Woodchucks.” Look this poem up and

you will know why I love it. I’ll just say this about it: Never assume anything!

Look in the mirror and see your reflection. You assume it is you. Write about it.

Until next time…

Sara M. Robinson, founder of the Lonesome Mountain Pro(s)e Writers’ Workshop, and former Instructor of a course on Contemporary American Poets at UVA-OLLI, was poetry columnist for Southern Writers Magazine and inagural poetry editor for Virginia Literary Journal. She has served as guest lecturer at UVA’s College at Wise, Wise, VA. Her poetry has appeared in various anthologies, including We Grew Wings and Flew (2014), Scratching Against the Fabric (2015), Virginia Writer’s Club Centennial Anthology (2017), Blue Ridge Anthologies and Mizmor Anthology (2018). Journals include: Loch Raven Review, The Virginia Literary Journal, vox poetica, Jimson Weed, Whisky Advocate, and Poetica. She is poet and author of Love Always, Hobby and Jessie (2009), Two Little Girls in a Wading Pool (2012), A Cruise in Rare Waters (2013 Stones for Words (2014), Sometimes the Little Town (2016), a finalist for the Poetry Society of Virginia’s 2017 Book Award. In 2019, Needville, her poetry about effects of coal mining on SW Virginia was released and in 2020 debuted as play in Charlottesville. Her most recent publication is Simple River (2020, Cyberwit).

Here is an Interesting Premise: How Can Thinking Like An Artistic Painter Help a Poet?

Sara Robinson

I have a long-time friend, who in the height of her career was a well-known and highly regarded fashion illustrator. She and I compare notes frequently on techniques for each of our crafts. She wants to write poetry, but I really want to steal some of her ideas. One of my techniques she often brings up is my use of white space. She is intrigued as white space is an essential tool for the artist. I like to think of my white space as an insertion of “pause.” She uses the space more for defining her intended subject. She uses white pigment to create white space while my “writing canvas” is simply left blank.



In some works of art, the artist has created pathos or chaos or poignancy. Think of Van Gogh or Cezanne. In paintings the artist has several ways for expression to not only get a viewer’s attention, but also to invoke an emotional commitment. Since we can’t “write” with colors, texture, or perspective, we must use words to present the same effect. In past columns, I’ve mentioned metaphor and simile as tools. But it all comes down to language. For example, how would you describe a southern mansion, abandoned, in shadows of live oak and Spanish moss? Your decision might be influenced by what emotions you wanted to bring out. Do you want this mansion to be creepy? Or do you want it to be sad? How would you put each into words for a poem?



So, in all this, I’m suggesting that you write as a painter would. Moss, for instance, has a muted green color that is anything but vivid. How does it hang from the trees? Do breezes move the moss in a certain way? Look at the live oak branches. How do they appear? Stately? Forlorn?


Or maybe the branches are still and waiting. As I drive up to this mansion, I see sheer cotton curtains emerge from windows like little thin translucent ghosts escaping the heat.

My friend created an illustration for a play based on my Needville poetry book. It was a coal miner standing in front of a cart of coal. He held a pickaxe on his shoulder. His look was one of stern conviction and accomplishment. I wrote about him in my book that he had to always put on a brave front for his family. Art can give us many ideas to choose from in our writing.



Here is an exercise to consider: Find an illustration and see what you can write about it as a poem. Study it for details that might normally be missed. Your topic might not even have anything to do with the art, but for one little, small detail.



In all your writing, have fun. Write to the end of the page and wrap it around the edge. Like an infinity canvas. A key word or line around the edge could be an interesting surprise.

Sara M. Robinson, founder of the Lonesome Mountain Pro(s)e Writers’ Workshop, and former Instructor of a course on Contemporary American Poets at UVA-OLLI, was poetry columnist for Southern Writers Magazine and inagural poetry editor for Virginia Literary Journal. She has served as guest lecturer at UVA’s College at Wise, Wise, VA. Her poetry has appeared in various anthologies, including We Grew Wings and Flew (2014), Scratching Against the Fabric (2015), Virginia Writer’s Club Centennial Anthology (2017), Blue Ridge Anthologies and Mizmor Anthology (2018). Journals include: Loch Raven Review, The Virginia Literary Journal, vox poetica, Jimson Weed, Whisky Advocate, and Poetica. She is poet and author of Love Always, Hobby and Jessie (2009), Two Little Girls in a Wading Pool (2012), A Cruise in Rare Waters (2013 Stones for Words (2014), Sometimes the Little Town (2016), a finalist for the Poetry Society of Virginia’s 2017 Book Award. In 2019, Needville, her poetry about effects of coal mining on SW Virginia was released and in 2020 debuted as play in Charlottesville. Her most recent publication is Simple River (2020, Cyberwit).

What Does Poetry Do?

Sara Robinson

Recently I have seen columns asking their readership to answer: What does poetry do? I also asked my poetry critique group this question. One of my poetry friends responded, when asked if poetry can “fix” the world, poetry is not a screwdriver. Poetry is not supposed to fix anything.

Or is it? If we define “fix,” as setting something right that may have been incorrectly placed or to make something permanent or stable, then maybe poetry can fix at least something.



I’m advocating that poetry can be a “universal fixer.” What I mean is this: If the creation of poems can persuade an adversary to reconsider a point, create an awareness for an individual who has never appreciated the blueness of a particular bird, or offer an empathetic view toward diversity, to name just a few; then I think poetry can do many things. Poetry itself is not in the doing. Poetry is in the thinking and then we do the doing.



Witness (no poetry pun intended) recent events of violence. We have seen much come out of the writing community on topics of policing, inequalities of service, statues that resurrect unimaginable times, and so on. When I read poetry and articles about certain events, I am not looking for clues to fix something. I am looking for emotional commitment to the topic. If someone is that moved to write about it, then I know that person wants to offer a “fix.” The poet Brenda Hillman uses the word “metonymy” to draw an association with realism. For example,
“The White House” today raised up rails around the east side or “the Giants need a new glove in right field.” Here is one from me: “Detroit needs to remove the tarnish it has inherited.” Now while these lines are not poetic, what they give us is a way for poetry to do something. That is to say, we can take a collective, have it provide the action, or possibly a way to be fixed.



Another view of what poetry can do: Poetry can intimate that the past is never quite over with. This line taken from poet, Matthew Bevis, sums it up: “Did you just get déjà Vue?” The implication here is that we are reading a poem about something that happened and the reader knows that something similar happened to them, too. I have had times when a stranger has come up to me, drawing attention to some poem I wrote, then telling me that they were either at that same place or had that same feeling. How did I know or do that? While I want to say that poetry is magical, that seems flippant. Of the many things that poetry can do, what it cannot do is perform magic.



When you write your poems, think about what poetry is doing for you at that time. Maybe you just saw something that moved you so much you cried. Was it for joy? Sorrow? What if you wrote about your feelings? That is when poetry does something.



Until next time!

Sara M. Robinson, founder of the Lonesome Mountain Pro(s)e Writers’ Workshop, and former Instructor of a course on Contemporary American Poets at UVA-OLLI, was poetry columnist for Southern Writers Magazine and inagural poetry editor for Virginia Literary Journal. She has served as guest lecturer at UVA’s College at Wise, Wise, VA. Her poetry has appeared in various anthologies, including We Grew Wings and Flew (2014), Scratching Against the Fabric (2015), Virginia Writer’s Club Centennial Anthology (2017), Blue Ridge Anthologies and Mizmor Anthology (2018). Journals include: Loch Raven Review, The Virginia Literary Journal, vox poetica, Jimson Weed, Whisky Advocate, and Poetica. She is poet and author of Love Always, Hobby and Jessie (2009), Two Little Girls in a Wading Pool (2012), A Cruise in Rare Waters (2013 Stones for Words (2014), Sometimes the Little Town (2016), a finalist for the Poetry Society of Virginia’s 2017 Book Award. In 2019, Needville, her poetry about effects of coal mining on SW Virginia was released and in 2020 debuted as play in Charlottesville. Her most recent publication is Simple River (2020, Cyberwit).

Visit 
https://saramrobinson.com/

Fire in Your Belly

 Sara Robinson

Sometimes we want to write strongly about events or issues that particularly affect us.

I get it. I often feel the same way. But here is the thing: How do really great poets and writers get their words across without coming across as “preachy”? The answer to that lies probably in what can be described as “poetic finesse.” We can research about embracing the “great understanding” and how to write as a “witness,” but what about the real fire that one feels. How do we harness that successfully into words and lines without failing our task?

 

Poets have always been viewed as having a passion for their writing. We see something, a minor thing, and we can create transformative verse that elevates our mind and if we are so lucky, the mind of the reader. Take the transformative poem, The Red Wheelbarrow, by William Carlos Williams. His first two lines: “so much depends / upon…”  You must agree those four words are transformative. Everything in our lives depends upon something or someone else, no matter how isolated we may be. I can sense Williams’ “fire” in those few words because they speak to such large things out of his control.

 

Let’s take that premise even further as we look at these opening lines from Lester Speiser: “Your violin shattered stars; / call yourself a nice Jewish / boy?” As the poem progresses, I read Speiser getting more and more angry, but not at the boy (who ended up being a hero) but at the Nazis. The reading of this poem stirred in me an anger as well for the aftermath of the Holocaust.

This anger was that the Holocaust robbed so many of their lives and their futures. This poem certainly showed me his “fire in the belly.” That was certainly his idea, I’m sure.

 

So, how do you channel this passion, this torch, these flaring embers into remarkable writing?

First, look at word choices. Think of powerful words that can be chosen to make your points.

Think of your senses. Which one(s) do you want to focus on? How you feel? What do you see?

I often look to my surroundings to give me ideas/inspiration. A brightly-colored dolphin fish when in the water, and just hooked, is brilliant. But when it comes onto a boat, within seconds, it turns deathly grey. What an opportunity to use this as a metaphor. Elizabeth Bishop and others have used this same fish. Does “red” conjure up something deep within you?

 

Search for that fire, stoke it properly, with your creativity, then transform yourself while you transform others.

Sara M. Robinson, founder of the Lonesome Mountain Pro(s)e Writers’ Workshop, and former Instructor of a course on Contemporary American Poets at UVA-OLLI, was poetry columnist for Southern Writers Magazine and inagural poetry editor for Virginia Literary Journal. She has served as guest lecturer at UVA’s College at Wise, Wise, VA. Her poetry has appeared in various anthologies, including We Grew Wings and Flew (2014), Scratching Against the Fabric (2015), Virginia Writer’s Club Centennial Anthology (2017), Blue Ridge Anthologies and Mizmor Anthology (2018). Journals include: Loch Raven Review, The Virginia Literary Journal, vox poetica, Jimson Weed, Whisky Advocate, and Poetica. She is poet and author of Love Always, Hobby and Jessie (2009), Two Little Girls in a Wading Pool (2012), A Cruise in Rare Waters (2013 Stones for Words (2014), Sometimes the Little Town (2016), a finalist for the Poetry Society of Virginia’s 2017 Book Award. In 2019, Needville, her poetry about effects of coal mining on SW Virginia was released and in 2020 debuted as play in Charlottesville. Her most recent publication is Simple River (2020, Cyberwit).

Visit 
https://saramrobinson.com/

What Is It Really That We Want Poetry to Say?

Sara Robinson

In post past I’ve discussed how poetry can lead us to a great understanding, can be a call to witness, and can lead us to appreciation of nature and humanity. But that is not all poetry needs to say. The poet Stanley Moss describes poetry as “a carnival of word play.” I ask, how does poetry really come together and say something? We believe we have lots to say. We study forms, words, metrical patterns (or not), other poets, newspapers, and even other genres to give us help.


Here are some thoughts to improve our skills:


1. Slow down, and “smell the roses.” If we rush through our writing, we may miss words and lines that require closer inspection. My work-out trainer constantly has to remind me to slow my movements, let my muscles feel the work. If we speed out the door, we could miss that charming bluebird.

2. Manage effectively your expectations. Start writing without thinking about winning a contest. Get it down. Then get it good.

3. Don’t like what you’ve written? Before you throw it away, look through it and find at least one word or line that you do like. Put it down on a 3 x 5 card, save it for something else.

4. Manage distractions in your writing space. Set aside time. If you can’t write, then at least read. Maybe read a poem you don’t understand. Exercise your brain to dissect it until you find a meaning that satisfies you.

5. Free up your writing to find its own form. Truth be told, there is an organic process to what you write. It may show itself as a natural form to your poem. And if it comes together more like prose, then fine. You are seeking energy here.



We say what we say. We write what we write. Simple, yet complex. What we feel within us can stir us so magnificently that our writing becomes this unified strength. Here is something I am working on in a forthcoming manuscript:



Life and Death

“My feet stay cold

in black water



like some blood’s trickling

in hard rock veins



I’ll die too young

to see my age”



What will your poetry say to you, that you can say to your readers?

Sara M. Robinson, founder of the Lonesome Mountain Pro(s)e Writers’ Workshop, and former Instructor of a course on Contemporary American Poets at UVA-OLLI, was poetry columnist for Southern Writers Magazine and inagural poetry editor for Virginia Literary Journal. She has served as guest lecturer at UVA’s College at Wise, Wise, VA. Her poetry has appeared in various anthologies, including We Grew Wings and Flew (2014), Scratching Against the Fabric (2015), Virginia Writer’s Club Centennial Anthology (2017), Blue Ridge Anthologies and Mizmor Anthology (2018). Journals include: Loch Raven Review, The Virginia Literary Journal, vox poetica, Jimson Weed, Whisky Advocate, and Poetica. She is poet and author of Love Always, Hobby and Jessie (2009), Two Little Girls in a Wading Pool (2012), A Cruise in Rare Waters (2013 Stones for Words (2014), Sometimes the Little Town (2016), a finalist for the Poetry Society of Virginia’s 2017 Book Award. In 2019, Needville, her poetry about effects of coal mining on SW Virginia was released and in 2020 debuted as play in Charlottesville. Her most recent publication is Simple River (2020, Cyberwit).

https://saramrobinson.com/

In the Service of Poetry

Sara Robinson

Recently I read the remarkable and astute essay, The Poet, by Ralph Waldo Emerson. In this column I draw upon his wisdom to discuss what motivates us as poets. We write for purpose beyond the quest for or necessity of publication. Ours is a service described best as a philosophy of mankind. What do I mean? While we are not interpreters of life, we seek to convince ourselves and others that life has meaning.

Did you know that poets show us that within each of us dwells an artist? Within each of us there is a power, the power to engage the senses. Think about this: artists engage our eyes and emotions; sculptors engage our eyes, sense of dimensional space, and emotions; writers engage our eyes, sense of language, and imagination. Emerson stated a poet “sees and handles that which others dream of…”


A poet knows and tells. Did poetry exist before time? Was the first poem simply a word? Certainly, we know that before words there were symbols (art!). How about the compilation of thought into any form? Imagine the first poet assembling the mechanics of a villanelle or sestina. That poet struggled with how best to convey a thought.


A poet’s service is to the truth. Until we find a better “truth-sayer,” poets are likely to be the best option. No one exceeds the poet’s fidelity to his/her service. And this is sensual in that the senses are aroused.


Poets liberally use metaphor to explain often the inexplicable. We continually examine language for the metaphor to help get to the great understanding (see an earlier column). Emerson also stated that language is fossil poetry. I have coined a new word (I hope), metaphormosis: defined as the development of the perceptions of symbols or words or forms to describe life.


We love poets because they give us new thoughts (they “unlock” us). Poets free our intellect like children’s books unlock imagination. We take our “language” to paper from what we have observed in nature, heard from friends, from touching the world, and who we have loved. Then we share this.


How noble our service to poetry!

Sara M. Robinson, founder of the Lonesome Mountain Pro(s)e Writers’ Workshop, and former Instructor of a course on Contemporary American Poets at UVA-OLLI, is poetry columnist for Southern Writers Magazine and poetry editor for Virginia Literary Journal. In addition to publication in various anthologies, including We Grew Wings and Flew (2014), Scratching Against the Fabric (2015), and Virginia Writer’s Club Centennial Anthology (2017); journals: Loch Raven Review, The Virginia Literary Journal, vox poetica, Jimson Weed, Whisky Advocate, and Poetica, she is poet and author of Love Always, Hobby and Jessie (2009), Two Little Girls in a Wading Pool (2012), A Cruise in Rare Waters (2013), and Stones for Words (2014). Her latest poetry book, Sometimes the Little Town, released in February 2016, was a finalist for the Poetry Society of Virginia’s 2017 Book Award.


https://saramrobinson.com.

Space, A Writer’s Frontier

Sara Robinson

Do you have a dedicated area for your writing? Where is it? How connected to your regular living environment is your space? It is important for all of us who write to have a “room of our own.” We can define that room anyway we want if it belongs to us, the writers. No one else should claim it. Even if your space consists of an unfinished door propped up by two sawhorses, it must belong to you. When you “enter” your space you leave the outside world and let your body and mind go wandering into your imagination.


What comprises your space? Pencils, pens, laptop? Here are my essentials:




Sticky pads, various sizes

3 x 5 index cards

Pencils, pens, highlighters, erasers, laptop, printer

Notebooks/journals of all sizes

Stapler and paperclips

File folders

Bookshelves

Bottle of water

Kleenex



What about books? Do you have favorites close by? I have many poetry books: authors, anthologies, literary texts. Dictionaries, thesaurus, poetry manuals. My go-to poetry manuals are the heart-and-soul of my space. For example, I continuously refer to Frances Mays’ The Discovery of Poetry. One is never so accomplished that prosody resources do not matter. I will always want and need all the help I can get. A big part of my bookshelf belongs to the Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics (4th ed). What a gold mine of information. I also love the essays on the simplicity and complexity of poetry. If I am going to write the best I can possibly write, I want to ensure that my word choices, line composition, and overall language presence represents the best I can offer.

When I write about coal mining or whisky drinking or my hometown, it is necessary for me to speak with intelligence, emotion, and persuasion. If I am clear and convincing in my writing, then I can be assured that my readers will not be left wondering.

Now, all of this goes back to the fundamental point of having the necessary space to do the necessary job of giving good writing. I look around my space and in its organized chaos I see the offerings of so many to help me.


How is your space working for you?

Sara M. Robinson, founder of the Lonesome Mountain Pro(s)e Writers’ Workshop, and former Instructor of a course on Contemporary American Poets at UVA-OLLI, is poetry columnist for Southern Writers Magazine and poetry editor for Virginia Literary Journal. In addition to publication in various anthologies, including We Grew Wings and Flew (2014), Scratching Against the Fabric (2015), and Virginia Writer’s Club Centennial Anthology (2017); journals: Loch Raven Review, The Virginia Literary Journal, vox poetica, Jimson Weed, Whisky Advocate, and Poetica, she is poet and author of Love Always, Hobby and Jessie (2009), Two Little Girls in a Wading Pool (2012), A Cruise in Rare Waters (2013), and Stones for Words (2014). Her latest poetry book, Sometimes the Little Town, released in February 2016, was a finalist for the Poetry Society of Virginia’s 2017 Book Award.





https://saramrobinson.com.                                           

The Purpose of the Evangelical Poet

 Sara Robinson

Back in an earlier column I discussed what it meant to take a journey as a spiritual poet.

Often in writing it can be difficult to separate the spiritual from the religious and from evangelism. But with evangelism defined more broadly we can give our writing a chance to take strong positions and use our verse to spread a more public view. Thus, we connect with a larger audience and tap into a grander conscience.


I realize that for most of us writing on this scale could be unsettling, more risk that we want to take. But my purpose here is to show how vast poetry can be. It is your own choice to decide how large you want your writing to encompass. Not everyone can be a Walt Whitman, or a Richard Blanco. But there is plenty of room for big ideas as well as small ones. The essential change in our writing takes place when we write in the third person POV, the “we” replaces the “I.” And unlike Blanco, we may not be called on to write a poem which is the ultimate public poem that was an evangelistic call to Americans. Look closely at this line, “All of us as vital as the one light we move through…”, from his Inauguration (for Barack Obama) poem, One Today. We hope to have words in our toolbox that enables us to write grandly of our lives, our country, and even our faith.


There are no more powerful metaphors for the strength of our emotions than those we find in nature. If we want our poetry to expand the public experience and draw society to us, then using our love of nature is a natural choice. The mighty Sequoia does not just shade the tiny mouse, it represents the strength and endurance of all of us. For those who believe in a higher power, the evidence of sunsets, shooting stars, trees blooming, baby animals, and the mysterious oceans, the ability to convey this as integral to the human experience is a type of evangelism. People and poetry, the perfect combination which gives us such a broad purpose. We have many chances to spread our verse.

                                                     

 

Sara M. Robinson, founder of the Lonesome Mountain Pro(s)e Writers’ Workshop, and former Instructor of a course on Contemporary American Poets at UVA-OLLI, is poetry columnist for Southern Writers Magazine and poetry editor for Virginia Literary Journal. In addition to publication in various anthologies, including We Grew Wings and Flew (2014), Scratching Against the Fabric (2015), and Virginia Writer’s Club Centennial Anthology (2017); journals: Loch Raven Review, The Virginia Literary Journal, vox poetica, Jimson Weed, Whisky Advocate, and Poetica, she is poet and author of Love Always, Hobby and Jessie (2009), Two Little Girls in a Wading Pool (2012), A Cruise in Rare Waters (2013), and Stones for Words (2014). Her latest poetry book, Sometimes the Little Town, released in February 2016, was a finalist for the Poetry Society of Virginia’s 2017 Book Award.

 https://saramrobinson.com.                                                 

Poetry as a Spiritual Exercise

Sara Robinson   

Southern Writers Poet

We are aware that many poets, as their professional and personal lives expanded, felt that there was more to their writing than expressions on love, death, themselves, and nature. Many poets believed that they were on a quest, not just for truth, but for deeper meanings. For them, nature was a tool, a door, to allow them exploration into a spiritual side of their writing and consciousness.

Two notable poets, H.D. (Hilda Doolittle) and Robert Duncan spent a better part of their lifetimes into research on religion, and even the occult. They maintained that “poetry affects spiritual transactions.” For example, a devastating loss can compel one to seek solace in his/her faith and then write about what this means to him/her. Edward Hirsch, an acclaimed poet, focuses much of his writing on traumatic events in his life. This includes elegies for family members and friends. The elegy can be a meditative reflection on sorrow, remorse, extreme anguish; then how to use this grief to heal. Edward lost his only son, Gabriel, and wrote a masterful 78-page elegy. In this he questions his faith, where God is, and even demanding that God give him back his son.

There were a number of poets of “the greatest age of English verse,” who drew on the Bible as part of their prosody practice. We look to spiritual texts to give us inspiration as well as poetic technical help. For example, the meter, rhyme, and musicality of The Bible influenced many, such as Donne and Whitman. Our challenge today is to bring the antiquity to the present so that phrases continue to be relevant. Look at this line from Walt Whitman (from his poem Memories of President Lincoln): “I cease my song for thee, / From my gaze on thee in the west, fronting the west, communing with thee, / O comrade lustrous with silver face in the night.” A poet incorporating a spirituality in his renderings must find a balance between being pious and poetic.

Robert Alter’s book, “The Hebrew Bible: A Translation with Commentary” looks discretely and intensely at biblical language and how to bring it to modern poetic script, as translation and as poetic thought. Take this example: “The Lord is my shepherd, / I shall not want. / In grass meadows He makes me lie down, / by quiet waters guides me. / My life He brings back. / He leads me on pathways of justice / for His name’s sake. / Though I walk in the vale of death’s shadow, / I fear no harm, / for You are with me.”

When we use monosyllabic words with their modern syntax as we compose spiritual text, we create another kind of beauty. How will you embrace spirituality in your writing?

Author of Sometimes the Little Town (her fifth book and fourth poetry collection), is founder of Lonesome Mountain Pros(e) Writers’ Workshop, former UVA-OLLI instructor on Contemporary Poetry, and poetry columnist for Southern Writers’ Magazine. Published in journals and anthologies, she is a former Virginia Writers’ Club and Blue Ridge Writer’s Chapter officer.  Her most recent book, Needville has now been turned into a play.

How Did This Setting Get Me Into This Situation?

Sara Robinson

As we have learned, virtually anything can be a subject for a poem.

The poet Pablo Neruda, said that there were only eleven subjects. Now that is interesting especially since we also know he didn’t really provide the list of eleven (that I can find anyway). However, in her book, The Discovery of Poetry, Frances Mayes gives us her list of potentials, including “beginnings, memory, art, time,” etc. I submit these as they relate the most to the settings/situation topic discussed here.

There are numerous options for settings. What if we are next to a quiet stream? Nothing much happens, but then we see a water strider tiptoe across the water. Suddenly a large-mouth bass grabs it. All at once we have a situation and we can write about it. We could describe a natural setting, no conflicts, just words about how we feel one with nature. Or we can take this setting and let the situation become a metaphor for something larger in life, predator vs prey; now we are witnesses.

As poetry has evolved, so have types of poems appeared that especially describe particular settings. Types include pastoral (usually a rural landscape, maybe some sheep); aubade (usually about dawn, maybe a lover who leaves); carpe diem (where the setting is time); and ars poetica (where the poet writes about writing poetry, some situation). There are more but you get the idea.

I think a poem could have master settings and this takes me back to Neruda’s eleven subjects. I tend to think there are three “master subjects” for poets: Love, Death, and Themselves. Poets historically take these three, put them into a variety of situations and settings and then reveal and possibly resolved.

In Cesare Pavese’s poem, “Grappa in September,” this line that starts a stanza:

“This early, you see only women./… Then he ends with these two lines:

“steeping them to their depths in the soft air. The streets/ are like the women. They ripen by standing still.” (see Mayes’s book). Masterful!

I began my  creative writing career after retiring from industry. I would love to talk to readers about my writing and the memoir, as well as my short stories and poetry. My latest poetry book, Sometimes the Little Town, is based on the photography of Hobby Robinson. I have 3 other published poetry books and a memoir. I live in central Virginia and enjoy all the wonders that abound in the local area. Much of my writing focuses on these experiences as well as reflecting on how I am evolving as a poet and writer. In Fall 2014, one of my poems about my Jewish heritage appeared in Poetica Magazine. Looking for places to buy my books? 

Check out: Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, Solace 

Why Do We Care About How Poems Come About?

Sara Robinson
Southern Writer Contributor

I recently received the poetry book, Brute (Winner of the 2018 Walt Whitman award), by Emily Skaja. This manuscript of some 30+ poems almost stands as one long poem. The book is about a relationship, and not a good one. There are many passages in there that could be universal to many women, for instance. So, it becomes relatable. When a poet writes about personal experiences, the context is less clinical and more emotional.

Having said that, we may not be so interested in all the details of emotional experiences of the writer that led to the work, as we are in how the quality of the poems are.

Tension and Release in a Poem

Sara Robinson

We are living in a dynamic literary age where diversity is a significant driver in poetry writing and publishing. We have poets representing minorities (i.e. ethnic, LGBTQ, religious, immigrants, and others). These poets are winning prizes, gathering acclaim, and getting published by well-known presses. Their “voices” are getting wide attention, gathering crowds, and likely influencing the public discourse, not just on literature but society as a whole.

Why is that? And what does it mean for all of us? We need to think of poetry, more than ever, as “all-inclusive.” These practicing poets of today are clearly our future. What can we learn from their voices? For one thing, besides being fearless and experimental in their writing, they practice with great craft the use of “tension and release.” So, let us look at what this means and how best to employ it.

Using the first person POV is a revival of what once was considered obsolete. “I feel my pain, and I want you to feel it, too,” is a graphic introduction. The poet and novelist, Sherman Alexi, in his poem, “ How to Write the Great American Indian Novel” for the Poetry Foundation starts out by saying, “All of the Indians must have tragic features: tragic noses, eyes, and arms./ Their hands and fingers must be tragic when they reach for tragic food….”

Today the “I” is expanded further into the hot topics of race, sexuality, gender, and politics. These topics are the latest to bring us into inclusiveness of today’s social science. How then do we write powerful tension-invoking poetry that satisfies with a follow-up release? Does it need to be something we personally have experienced? We could start by listening and immersing ourselves into unfamiliar territories, maybe an aisle in Walmart, or outside a courthouse sitting on a bench listening as people leave, or go in.

How does release work? Using our language toolbox, we give the reader possible resolutions, connections, empathy, and tenderness. Here is an example:

How best to express the tragedy of a repressed group whose population has been reduced to single digit numbers than to describe weapons of destruction shooting flames and bullets outside a crumbling shaking building while inside same a middle-aged woman gently hums as she washes the hair of her blind and deaf ninety-year old mother.

Tension and release. Now you try it.

I began my creative writing career after retiring from industry. I would love to talk to readers about my writing and the memoir, as well as my short stories and poetry. My latest poetry book, Sometimes the Little Town, is based on the photography of Hobby Robinson. I have 3 other published poetry books and a memoir. I live in central Virginia and enjoy all the wonders that abound in the local area. Much of my writing focuses on these experiences as well as reflecting on how I am evolving as a poet and writer. In Fall 2014, one of my poems about my Jewish heritage appeared in Poetica Magazine. Looking for places to buy my books? Check out: Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, Solace 

 https://www.saramrobinson.com/ 

What is the Normal Size of a Poem?

Sara Robinson    https://www.facebook.com/

What is the “normal” size of a poem? Is there a “calibration standard” for poetry length? We don’t use calipers or carpenter squares to measure length on a page. That is too left-brain for us creative types. But we do study and investigate words to ponder over stresses, syllables, and metrical formats, especially if we are writing formally (i.e. sonnets). Most of us contemporary poets embrace free verse style, so we think about compression and compaction when we compose. We edit a lot, revise a bunch, and throw away words that we decide will be unnecessary or even lazy.

Getting the words down, then getting them good is our faithful mantra. This also means words play a major role in length. The novelist Greg Iles says he writes “in a granular way,” meaning his descriptions often unfold minute-by-minute. That’s why most of his novels are long and epic. I love his writing.

Maintaining Control of Our Poetry

Sara Robinson   https://www.facebook.com/

This is not about ownership or authorship. This is not about how our poetry is like driving a car, per se. This is about stopping the runaway train of our writing. We’ve asked ourselves in the past, is this poem any good? Will anybody read it or like it? Do I even like it? Yes, we write many a line where we argue with ourselves about whether or not the writing is any good.

The Defense of Poetry

Sara Robinson  @facebook

Are we responsible for making poetry matter? How do we prove or defend the idea that poetry can make a difference? How will our lines influence society in general, our own lives, or even the conservation of nature? Do we use poetry to expose a morality of bad taste?

What about the use of hyperbole to create a defense of poetry? It could be noted that the use of extreme exaggeration, in a line, to make a point could risk overwhelming the entire poem. Or does the entire poem work as hyperbole?

How can we find a balance as part of our defense of poetry? Author Michael Robbins, in his new book, Equipment for Living: On Poetry and Pop Music (Simon & Schuster) stated, “No one has ever changed his life because of a poem or song…” Really?  Why do I find that hard to accept? On a personal note, a young woman heard me read my poem, “A Poem Written As Scars,” came up to me and said my poem changed her life. Later in the same book, [Robbins] also says, “There is no limit to what a poem can’t do…poetry makes all sorts of things happen.” These statements add to the confusion of how best to defend poetry.

Poets, since the beginning of the genre itself, have used its form to confront grief, describe horrors of war, starvation, and suicide. We have learned about the complexities of human lives through poetry. Witness Sylvia Plath and Robert Lowell. The tragedies of mental illness, for example, are laid bear with these and others. Poetry provides insight and intimacy without which we might not understand how precious life is.

Poetry has emboldened people to reveal mental turmoil, has given us the heartland of America, and has enlightened us.  Poetry may not give any one person everything or every answer. Humans are too individual for universal acceptance. But what would we have, if we didn’t have poetry?

I often say at readings, “While poetry is mostly fiction, it always states great truths.”

For many poetry is more accessible than philosophy and in this access people gain their sense of worth, even as why they are even here. When we read poetry about the wonders of nature, the sentiments of love, and the sadness of death, we share the experience with the writer. We also gain the sense of hope. Perhaps that one sense is the most important gift of poetry. Hope.

Poetry can be experienced alone or in public. Tea-sippers and whisky enthusiasts can appreciate poetry. When we share poetry at gatherings connections are formed that add to the value of the human experience.  Poetry can help us fall asleep or it can keep us awake and energized into action. We may not “binge-read” poetry, but I can show you books I could not put down until I finished. That’s another defense: poetry books are typically less than 100 pages, easier to complete at a sitting and easier to pick up for repeat readings. It is easier to carry a poetry book in one’s purse than a novel!

Even single lines can be poetry. How marvelous is that? Think about this line:

“I fix upon what would give me pleasure in my average moments…” (Marianne Moore)

When we read poetry in our average and spare moments, we can gain pleasure.

Who doesn’t love Mary Oliver? Here is a three line stanza from her poem, Landscape, that I believe is so powerful: “Every morning I walk like this around / the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart / ever close, I am as good as dead.” What an incredible validation of how our own personal openness can enrich our lives.

Louis Menand, in a review titled, “The Defense of Poetry,” for The New Yorker magazine, wrote, “When the going gets stressful, the stressed want poems.”

Amen to that.

 Author of Sometimes the Little Town (her fifth book and fourth poetry collection), is founder of Lonesome Mountain Pros(e) Writers’ Workshop, former UVA-OLLI instructor on Contemporary Poetry, and poetry columnist for Southern Writers’ Magazine. Published in journals and anthologies, she is a former Virginia Writers’ Club and Blue Ridge Writer’s Chapter officer.  Her most recent book, Needville has now been turned into a play.

Her website is www.saramrobinson.com