Poets exist all around us. I guarantee that you know someone who practices their poetry writing.
My friend Amanda is a poet. She teaches grade seven at another school in Vancouver and performs her poems at events around the city. Her ability to choose a topic and to capture her thoughts, reactions, and feelings impresses me every time I hear or read her poetry.
This year for Poetry Month, while I have been writing daily posts for our Quilchena Library blog, Amanda has been sharing a new poem every day on Facebook. I asked her permission to share a few of them with you:
From day 15:
Being curious
I’m cultivating my curiosity
As much as I possibly can.
I’m feeding it questions and opinions,
I’m making fertilizer of my certainties,
Reminding myself that the unknown isn’t necessarily unknowable
Dark
Or foreboding.
It could be limitless,
Possibilities.
Cultivating this curiosity gives me labour to do
In this untethered time.
I yearn for the sweat of doing.
When I start spinning
I remind, rebody myself
So that I sit in curiosity
Then dig deep into the rich, rich, earthy soil
Of that garden.
From day 22:
Unruly
My thoughts as they zing around bumping into each other in most unexpected ways, forging unlikely bonds.
My feelings as they tangle, roll into each other, change colour and texture.
My body as it desires, unwilling to follow the rules I have set out as it pulls me through the world.
My desires as they lead me into unknowns and all too familiars, asking me for blind allegiance.
My intellect, my warrior heart dragging my battered self into the arena again and again.
My softenesses becoming softer.
My hunger rampant.
My joy explosive.
Unruly.
From day 24:
What matters
Tell me the story that matters.
Take my hand, lead me through
The marshes of what scares you.
Allow me to wander there, with you.
I can just be there,
I can move my way through, gently.
Lean your tired head on my heart;
It is strong, practiced.
Let the rhythm root you in some kind of peace.
Write your love letters onto my skin,
Draw out the meanings
Let the words ramble their ways across my body
To take up residence where there is resonance.
Share the edges,
Expose the dangers of your unknowing,
Lead me into your murkiness.
I am safe and strong.
I hope that you try writing your own poetry sometime, if you don’t already. Grab an old notebook, or get yourself a fancy new one, (it doesn’t matter what it looks like, as long as you fill it with your writing) and start trying out ideas. Don’t through anything away; just keep stretching, adding, building. Have fun!