A bright fire to you all. We turn and return.
Where I live the pouring rain of dreary spring lingers still. I hope that where you are the sun of coming summer is shining.
Category Archives: Writer
Poetry month: Found poem
“Found poems take existing texts and refashion them, reorder them, and present them as poems. The literary equivalent of a collage, found poetry is often made from newspaper articles, street signs, graffiti, speeches, letters, or even other poems . . . A pure found poem consists exclusively of outside texts: the words of the poem remain as they were found, with few additions or omissions. Decisions of form, such as where to break a line, are left to the poet.”
—poets.org
With the guidance of JC Sulzenko, I crafted a found poem. (Find it at the end of this post.)
Here is the process:
- Find a source text. It could be a table of contents, or a series of titles, or a restaurant menu.
- Either erase words you don’t want to include in your poem, or highlight words that attract you.
- Create a poem with the chosen words.
- The words should appear in the same order as the source material. (Perhaps with some allowances for changes in grammar or punctuation.)
- Credit your source(s)!
Here is the source that JC provided for us. It is a list of best-selling book titles.
I Will Find You Spare A Death at the Party The Movement Miracle It starts with Us 8 Rules of Love Women Talking Run Towards the Danger Worthy Opponents Paris Old Babes in the Wood The Myth of Normal The Book of Rain Love, Pamela Hello Beautiful The Boy, The Mole, The Fox and the Horse Birnam Wood, 12 Rules of Life Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow Murder at Haven’s Rock Song of the Sparrow Kunstlers in Paradise Greenwood When the Body Says No Pure Colour Ducks Someone Else’s Shoes Young Forever The Story of Us Rez Rules The Light We Carry Eight Strings Scattered Minds
And here is the poem I found there.
SPARE At the party women worthy opponents, rain love. The fox rules paradise, us.
Try it. It’s fun. What poem can you find in the list of titles?
When you start to think, stop.
“My gauge each day, in all things, is simply this: Is what I’m choosing (to think, do or say) moving me closer to my Creator or farther away? For this question, I am immensely thankful. It saves me an awful lot of backtracking, worry lines, frustration, angst and apologizing. Today and every day, I give thanks for my ability to exercise power of choice—even when I’ve chosen wrong.”
—Richard Wagamese in EMBERS: ONE OJIBWAY’S MEDITATIONS
Years ago I attended a writing workshop led by Richard Wagamese. His process, he told us, was to go for long walks in the hills and tell himself a story out loud as he climbed. When he returned home, he’d write it all down, letting the words pour unto the page. He’d write, he said, until he “started to think.”
When thoughts began to run through his head—”Is that the right word?” or “Should I take that part out?” or “This is the worst thing ever”—it was time to stop.
The words weren’t coming from Source anymore.
At the workshop he invited participants to give him a topic—any topic—so that he could tell us a story. Several times he received his subject, reflected only for a second or two, and then began to speak.
In a miraculous way, he opened himself up to become a channel for story. He surrendered to it. Story unfolded through him, complete and beautiful from beginning to end.
I think of this often, when my hands hover over laptop keys, uncertain. Or when those questions or comments start to circulate. “Does this word belong?” or “Is that part too long?” or “Am I wasting my time with this?”
I’m no Richard Wagamese, but I try to recreate what he showed to me that day, not only in writing, but in day-to-day life. For stories or for difficult decisions, I try to open, to surrender, and to allow the unfolding.
When I manage it, even a little, I’m surprised by how complete and beautiful it all turns out, from beginning to end.
And when I start to think, I stop.
In sauna
“I noticed that she used this phrase again and again: in sauna rather than in the sauna. She’s not talking about a building, a little pine shed with burning coals in the corner; she’s talking about a state of being.”
—Katherine May, speaking of a Finnish friend in Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times
Yesterday I took a day. A whole day.
I went for a short walk, but other than that I did nothing but lie on my couch, read a book, and watch the Toronto Blue Jays and Tim Hortons Brier curling.
I don’t have a pine shed with burning coals or a cedar-lined sanctuary, but I spent the day in sauna, in the way of Katherine May’s friend.
That is something I almost never do. I’m always doing something.
It was glorious.
Today I feel restored, and that is the power of rest and retreat.
3 trees and a snowy walk
Some days I feel like this: snapped off with jagged edges exposed.
Some days I feel like this: uprooted and toppled.
But most days I feel like this: strong, straight, and reaching for the sky. I have a broken branch or two, but that’s okay. The morning sun shines on me and the skies are blue.
What kind of tree are you today?
3 joys and a book
Here is the first joy from my week. Her name is Farley, and she is my daughter’s new puppy. Look at that face!
My second joy is this colourful arrangement of heart cookies I made for Valentine’s Day. Yum!
The third joy was a sunset cross-country ski outing – with horses!
And now the book, which is also a joy. The Poetry Circle of the Canadian Authors Association branch in the National Capital Region published an anthology. Five of my poems are included in the book. You could buy it if you wish. (It would bring you joy.)
Where are you finding joy this week?
Somerton Smith 