September's challenge was to write a poem in the vein of Wallace Stevens' Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird---except we were only going to attempt SEVEN ways of looking at something.
It turns out the hard part was not the number of stanzas (looks?) but deciding on a thing worth looking at. In theory, all things are worthy of poetry, but the brilliance of the original poem begins with the fact that Wallace Stevens chose to feature a blackbird-- something that is both ordinary and symbolic, and also dynamic--the bird can move, swoop, circle. As a result, we get a gorgeous swirling, dipping in and out of reality feeling as we read his poem.
Oddly enough, though, we learn little of the blackbird itself, for this is not fact-based poem, seeking to illuminate the bird's unique qualities. Instead, after we read the poem, we wind up thinking less about the blackbird and more about how everything is connected. (Or at least I do---here's my extended dive into the poem, if you're interested.)
How in the world to replicate that?
I was at a loss during our ZOOM writing session, so I decided to hew closely to the original poem, seeking to imitate its rhythms. I find that approach often works as a place to begin, and then I can manipulate the draft so it isn't a complete copy-cat. However, I still had the problem of what to write about, so I took the object at hand---the poem itself. Yup. Maybe a dodge, but this poem has always called to me, and writing about how it made me feel was the best I could manage this month.
Here it is:
Seven Ways of Looking at a PoemThe poem is beating its wings.My heart must be flying.I know free fall,and updrafts. ButI know, too— this poemis dense as spun glass.The poem circlesand circles and circlesthe snowy mountain.It was morningall day. I eatnothing. The poempreens.I don’t know whichto prefer—reading the poem,or the silence afterwards.Later, when Iwalk between the hedges,the poem shoots a birdout of the sky,lays it at my feet.On the page,the only thing breathingis the poem.
---Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved)
My Poetry Sisters "ways of looking" can be found here:
Mary Lee
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Irene Latham.
Sara, your poem dances in the sky. Then, it lands on the page. Words find their connections with other words: "beating its wings/My heart must be flying". I prefer the "silence after writing". You captured that in up and down movements. The ending lines are brings a pause to reflect on- "the only thing breathing/is the poem."
ReplyDeleteSara, a rollercoaster of a poem, which goes from beating wings to shooting a bird from the sky. How eloquently you demonstrate the life and power of the poem!
ReplyDeleteThe poem preens. Love the power and truth of this poem!
ReplyDeleteMan, our Zoom calls are NOTHING like what we end up with, are they?
ReplyDeleteI know free fall,
and updrafts. But
I know, too— this poem
is dense as spun glass.
As dense as spun glass - impossibly lovely. I'm so glad you got there - and imagine you standing stunned and blinking, as a poem lays a bird at your feet... This poem is definitely beating its wings.
Oof...there is so much here, Sara. I'd say you looked deeply at this winging, artful, daring, breathing poem.
ReplyDeleteOh, I love this much more than the Stevens poem. And something about the phrase, "It was morning all day." I don't know why, but it enchants me!
ReplyDeleteWow, LOVE this, Sara!
ReplyDeleteOh, spun glass. Gah, I love this. This could be our mascot poem, honestly...
ReplyDelete