There is a long tradition of Ars Poetrica contemplationson the art of poetry. I have been cogitating about this in a kind of brew and stew sort of way a lot recently. Partly, it is because I have been asked to write an article about sacred poetry. The other part is that I am preparing several workshops, including one dedicated to poetry writing next Sunday. What is the common denominator beyond form and content? For me, poetry is connection. I went to sleep with this sputtering in my subconscious and the first verse of today’s poem was beginning to be formed as I was waking.
It’s a drowning world here in my part of Ireland, weather-wise, today. I suspect a lot of St. Patrick’s Day parade floats might literally…float! It’s a good day to hunker down with pen, paper and keyboard. As Felicia Olusanyo (aka Felispeaks) said in the Irish Times this week:
Considering this country is, by its seams, held together by poetry? Poetry and music are the cornerstones of Ireland, I wish we took them more seriously.”Irish Times, Wednesday, 13 March 2018
So, here I am doing my poetry practice, sewing frayed seams. on the national holiday weekend.
a venn diagram
your spouse goodbye
hard on the mouth;
painting the finger
of God on the
the ovum between
the touch of the brush,
snake's tongue licking
her wily gaze's
to be awake.
Copyright © 2019 Bee Smith. All rights reserved
It’s slightly ironic that I chose this featured photo as I got lacerated this morning trying to intervene between two feline boys who are not taking being shut up indoors well. The little black she cat is the only one with any respect for me today.