I love how your poems show how close to the edge of magical realism a ride on the bus can be. I’ve lived a mostly semi-rural existence for the past 25 years, but in my youth I spent a lot of time on the public bus system. Your poems make me look back fondly on those times.
I have been musing on the nature of art: poetry, storytelling, painting, whatever... taking time to organize a perception, to make sense of it, then share it. Part of a conversation, perhaps the Great Conversation from philosophy. A moment worth sharing, worth treasuring, worth the listener/reader/viewer taking the time to contemplate with the creator. Connection. Thank you so very much for sharing yours. <3
I'm coming to understand the role of the artist -- especially the poet -- as someone who makes art for a particular community -- as, in long-ago times, for a village or set of villages you might have the blacksmith, the wheelwright, the herbalist, etc., ...and oh, the person who remembers all the old songs and poems and throws up a new one when the community needs it. The "village" is now a hybrid one of virtual and in-person connections, AND the connections still get made.
"Detailed descriptions of ordinary life" is a great working definition of my kind of poetry, Shari. Thank you for the high compliment re feeling safe, and it's true, dogs at least are easy with me! Cats too, as long as I remember not to fuss too much. Cats Don't Do Enthusiasm. >^..^<
I laughed out loud at the advice the baby gave you! I too have your magneticism for babies and constant curriosity about what others are reading. Only you could make them into poems!
Lovely -that touch with another human -so rare -feels more significant in a bus or subway. (And contact with an infant, our most innocent!) I love the warmth and kindness of the poet towards woman with whom she begins to identify with -wish her kindly. I’m not as often in the subway in Manhattan -but at the next opportunity will pick someone to observe and write about - iimagining who they might be. What I always look for in a subway ride are sneakers and other shoes - your eye tends to wander down so you dont lock eyes with a stranger and often it’s the only clear thing you can see among the straps and folds. (I am feeling the outlines of a new poem).
Certainly to the writing, and one hopes to the reading as well. For the first few months of my Substack, I wrote exclusively eleven-line poems of eleven syllables per line, called them unrhymed truncated Petrarchan sonnets, and sometimes adapted other fixed forms to that format. Now I've loosened things up a bit.
Thanks so much, AP! I came back on Monday from a lovely week out of town -- this post just got caught between the travel-day and the reentry-day. I figured these poems were lively enough to speak for themselves. :-) I'm glad you liked them.
I have read your two poems years ago and reading them now brought back the same charm and
humor they brought me then!
That “thumb sized hand” touching with persistence.
Later you silently recommended that the lady reading the New Yorker put her glasses on…she might like the poem better. So funny!
❤️!
I love how your poems show how close to the edge of magical realism a ride on the bus can be. I’ve lived a mostly semi-rural existence for the past 25 years, but in my youth I spent a lot of time on the public bus system. Your poems make me look back fondly on those times.
Thank you, Jason. Maybe most moments, when they're paid attention to, have the potential for magic in them.
I have been musing on the nature of art: poetry, storytelling, painting, whatever... taking time to organize a perception, to make sense of it, then share it. Part of a conversation, perhaps the Great Conversation from philosophy. A moment worth sharing, worth treasuring, worth the listener/reader/viewer taking the time to contemplate with the creator. Connection. Thank you so very much for sharing yours. <3
Thank you for connecting with these poems, Nancy!
I'm coming to understand the role of the artist -- especially the poet -- as someone who makes art for a particular community -- as, in long-ago times, for a village or set of villages you might have the blacksmith, the wheelwright, the herbalist, etc., ...and oh, the person who remembers all the old songs and poems and throws up a new one when the community needs it. The "village" is now a hybrid one of virtual and in-person connections, AND the connections still get made.
I love your detailed observations of ordinary life. I bet animals like you as much as babies do: The vulnerable creatures feel safe around you.
"Detailed descriptions of ordinary life" is a great working definition of my kind of poetry, Shari. Thank you for the high compliment re feeling safe, and it's true, dogs at least are easy with me! Cats too, as long as I remember not to fuss too much. Cats Don't Do Enthusiasm. >^..^<
Really good. I like all the observations.
Thank you, Weston!
I'm just back from a week out of town and have a number of your poems waiting for me to read and appreciate; looking forward to that.
I laughed out loud at the advice the baby gave you! I too have your magneticism for babies and constant curriosity about what others are reading. Only you could make them into poems!
Oh, but you could make either of those into a journalistic thought-piece ... and I'd love to read it.
Your bus poems are my favorites.
Poems straight from a part of city life we both know well! ❤️
Lovely -that touch with another human -so rare -feels more significant in a bus or subway. (And contact with an infant, our most innocent!) I love the warmth and kindness of the poet towards woman with whom she begins to identify with -wish her kindly. I’m not as often in the subway in Manhattan -but at the next opportunity will pick someone to observe and write about - iimagining who they might be. What I always look for in a subway ride are sneakers and other shoes - your eye tends to wander down so you dont lock eyes with a stranger and often it’s the only clear thing you can see among the straps and folds. (I am feeling the outlines of a new poem).
Thank you, Marlena! I hope we get to read that new poem when it's grown and you're ready to share it.
Yes
Oh my, I LOVE these! I once lived at 418 26th Avenue East, in Seattle. Does that make me a 26th Avenue Poet, too?
Here is a link to one of my bus poems:
https://xpcallahan.substack.com/p/1282023
What fun! Playing in and with the poetic forms adds a whole level of interest to writing and reading, doesn't it?
Hurray for all possible 26th Avenue Poets!
Certainly to the writing, and one hopes to the reading as well. For the first few months of my Substack, I wrote exclusively eleven-line poems of eleven syllables per line, called them unrhymed truncated Petrarchan sonnets, and sometimes adapted other fixed forms to that format. Now I've loosened things up a bit.
"Classical Forms, My Way." I like it!
Here's another post of mine that you might enjoy:
https://26thavenuepoet.substack.com/p/writing-with-the-net-up
Thanks so much, AP! I came back on Monday from a lovely week out of town -- this post just got caught between the travel-day and the reentry-day. I figured these poems were lively enough to speak for themselves. :-) I'm glad you liked them.