For our first poetry challenge of 2022, we composed "overheard" poems---which, as the name suggests, are created from borrowed material. They are similar to found poems-- but made from oral snippets instead of written ones. The inspiration came from Susan Thomsen's blog.
The challenge was clear enough---but when I went looking for material to borrow, I found that overhearing things was not easy in this muffled age of masks and social distancing. And the more I tried to listen in, the more dejected I felt.
Phooey.
I missed the easy give and flow of public, un-orchestrated conversation.
I missed conferences, workshops, Kidlit drink nights, retreats.
I missed these lovelies, pictured below.
So I wrote about that. Only one word of this was overheard. I'll tell you which one at the end.
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| Some of the Poetry Sisters (August, 2010) |
FantasyI stand, neck-deepin the rollicking streamof an overbooked hotel lobbybar, my thighs braced,minnows of gossipflicking my hair.I order a bottomlessglass of well-water, clearas rain on the plain; toastthe flash of the bartender’sgold tooth as she catchesmy words, first try.I laugh as three fevereddiscussions stalkthe room like rare griffins,battering dusty tropeswith their ropy tailsand cavernous beaks.Our voices pollinatethe air, floatinto anyone’s ears;maybe we shoutas the elevator openslike a levy, spillingpoets into the room:HEY, old friend!
Afterwards,I tell the doctor whatwas wrong: I needed words.And he doesn’t blink,a dry-eyed unwillingphoenix, and say: What’s that?Your knee is worse?One day...One unmuffled day.-----Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved)
Liz, this is the third poem of the Poetry Sisters that I have read and each is so distinctly different and absorbing. I am intrigued by the flow of your poem and where the one word took you. I struggled with the poem because I have not been out and about to overhear juicy or ordinary conversations.
ReplyDelete"One day...One unmuffled day" is the hope of many pandemic voices.
"I needed words"... oh, my. I love this, Sara.
ReplyDelete"What's that? Your knee is worse?"
ReplyDeleteOh, my dear. Yeah, it's a lot some days, isn't it?
One day... one unmuffled day we'll not shout anymore and be able to whisper, heads tilted in, sharing space and breath and ...probably gossip, but you didn't hear it from me...
Sara! What a surreal and utterly in-the-moment poem. It's like I've fallen into a movie full of aliens, EXACTLY what the world feels like some days right now. So many bits to love, but
ReplyDelete"minnows of gossip / flicking my hair. " might've ruined the rest of the poem for me. Though those, fevered, desperate conversations pulled me in anyway. Love it.
What a wonderful collage of a poem! Each moment layers on, enriching the whole. I'm especially fond of "minnows of gossip/flicking my hair" and "our voices pollinate/the air" and oh, that ending. What an achievement to mix, as Laura says, the "surreal and utterly in-the-moment."
ReplyDeleteWhat a deft slice of words and moments. So well done.
ReplyDeleteI was right there with you in the joyous noise of voices in the bar. Since we can't ever go back, I wonder what the future holds. What will it be like when we're finally unmuffled?
ReplyDeleteOh, it has been so long since I have been "neck-deep in the rollicking stream of an overbooked hotel lobby bar". The imagery with which you captured this remembered moment is loud and clear. Brava!
ReplyDeleteI love the hopeful ending most of all. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteYou paint such a vivid picture that brings back my own memories of the camaraderie and connection that conferences bring. And your ending made me laugh! Thanks for sharing this with us.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful photograph and such an evocative poem.
ReplyDeleteI thought of a hotel lobby in NYC during the SCBWI conferences I used to attend. Voices, elevators. Your poem made me nostalgic for that kind of busy place.
ReplyDeleteOne unmuffled day.
ReplyDeleteHanging on to hope.
This is beautiful, Sara.