Part of my process is gathering notes, images, observations over many months until the theme, idea, the other strand reveals itself and then the 'gatherings' can be brought together and the poems can be finally written.
Yet, there are also occasional poems that spring out of nowhere, appear with their own internal dialectic, and therefore can be written / drafted immediately.
In reading the introduction by Robin Fulton to his translation of Tomas Transtromer's Collected Poems I noted some quotes about Transtromer's poems that particularly interest me:
"And this fascination with the borders between sleep and waking, with the strange areas of access between an everyday world we seem to know and another world we can't know in the same way but whose presence is undeniable - such a fascination has over the decades been one of Transtromer's predominant themes."
"imagery from and about dreams, speculations about how both past and future can impinge upon the present, investigations into memory, and a fascination with the many ways in which borders, open and closed, may be experienced."
And this quote from Transtromer himself:
"but you could at least say that I respond to reality in such a way that I look on existence as a great mystery and that at times, at certain moments, this mystery carries a strong charge, so that it does have a religious character, and it is often in such a context, that I write."
I feel like I am forever looking for the next project, next theme which will unlock the writing process and make use of all my 'gatherings'. I feel a constant pull back to folklore and folktales hence my ballad poems. I also like to write in the voice of historical / mythical women and find a real freedom in adopting personas. However, I think my real fascination in reading and writing poetry is, and always has been, in the meeting place of the natural and the psychological worlds; the internal and the external and how each colours each.
2 comments:
After all these years—and, crikey, we’re talking almost forty now—I still don’t understand how poetry works. I think that’s why, talking about recurring themes, I keep writing poems about poetry and it puzzles the hell out of me that a) some poets look down on them and b) more poets aren’t equally fascinated by the whole process. It also pleases me no end when, as I did only a couple of weeks back, I finish a poem and wonder where the hell is came from. I mean I was there for every line and it’s not like I didn’t pay attention but it’s such a hard thing to explain, a fine balance between having no control and wresting it back for a bit to give the chaos form.
I’ve never really thought much about personas. I do often write in a voice that’s not me although, again, not intentionally; it’s just how it happens. A couple of times I’ve found myself speaking in my daughter’s voice but anyone reading the poems would imagine I was talking about my father rather than hearing my daughter talk about me.
It wasn’t until I finally sat down to organise collections I started to see broad themes in my poetry and that, drawn together, they formed something greater and more meaningful and I keep thinking I’ve said everything one could say one certain topics—truth has long been my favourite whipping boy (horrible metaphor)—but then something else pops out and although I’d be happier to move on to fresh fields you don’t turn you nose up when the ideas start.
Yes and part of the attraction is the mystery which requires openness to the mysteries!! To me, you have a particularly individual and strong voice in your poems which I do tend to associate with you as a person. I think it's because I hear the same tone in your blog essays and comments and through it all really have a sense of knowing you even though we've only met once!
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