A note of encouragement to fellow poets

I am not a great advocate of labels,

my thought processes being more akin

to the disinterest shown by cans 

of good value baked beans,

to the cost of designer kitchens 

at fifty grand or more a flippancy.

Nor do I prescribe to Gucci or 

Louis Vuitton handbags and the like;

'made in China,' holding no fear for me.

After all, their culture is one of the

oldest in the world, which leaves me 

in no doubt they know perfectly well

how to stitch a handbag together.

Sadly, I seem in the minority, 

though as a poet of sorts, 

I am well used to this. 

The raised eyebrow, the furtively

pitying look, no longer intruding 

on poetical imperative;

and despite the occasional sulk,

I rather thrive on scorn.

Still and all, the treadmill turns,

tills ring, the vacuous reign supreme;

cawing crows in frantic disharmony,

fifteen minutes of fame, the holy grail.

Whilst unnoticed, the year is almost gone; 

seasons flitting by so quickly, 

that 'tis only poets who have the time 
and inclination to label them.    

Reviews

[alanwgraham]

This is great Beccy as I strongly identify with the beans. Too many know the price of everything and the value of nothing. However I do have a nagging suspicion that my outlook is more a product of my Scots upbringing than any moral view. I agree that we do as poets put ourselves on display and you are often left with the impression that others are being polite. And as for Gucci whatever that is I suspect Nero is tuning up his fiddle.
This was very impressive!
Alan

[emmajoy]

' .. and despite the occasional sulk, - I rather thrive on scorn.'

Fear of rejection, scorn and the like often causes people to forget their own importance to Self: walk your own path. slip on a pebble the size of a boulder and laugh like the proverbial drain. Smile is the order of the day, not the clamour of what others say to mock or laugh at what isn't their choice. In some cases one should be an island... an island of choice and a sticking out of tongue to the would-be''s cos they aim to walk like sheep. Perhaps. Good for you, my wee pearl.. you don't swagger and brag, you make your own choices without fear of or demands by others.. your words stand as your armour. Good for you, ever and always.

'.. the vacuous reign supreme; - cawing crows in frantic disharmony, - fifteen minutes of fame, the holy grail. ' Brilliant said.. hope some notice and disappear into space! x

[h d e rushin]

I ran into some friends this past weekend. "You still living in Detroit in that same old house on the East Side" one of them asked while cracking a sly grin between them? I kept it moving. All of life's fragmentary frustrations compel us to do many things/ I mean, I write poetry and it's not a closely held secret anymore. But the advantage of doing it is that I can hide (perfectly) behind the weirdness of unpublished verse. But poems are implicitly spiritual in that the poem travels from it's place in culture to it's place in human consciousness where it becomes a force of imagination and language. If one little plucking part is important.....than all of it is important. Plath resides in every modern poem you read, Dickinson is in every broken cadence, Whitman is in every emotional outburst and Baraka is in all of the revolutionary divide. take heart my friend. You are among those who love you...great poem.. dana

[Beccy]

I wonder sometimes, how our priorities became so confused; the natural order of things, now become almost entirely subjugate to the great demon god Mammon.

The poet, I propose, is closer to the heartbeat of this world, than most. :))

[h d e rushin]

You're a young woman Beccy. What I mean is that you carry inside of your heart (metaphor) the psychology of survival; the human, the necessary, the flashes of intuition. Men should not write poems at all until there in their mid 80's or until all the human voices that will ever speak, have spoken and when he is drawn to the archetype of what he wished he would have become. So when you speak of "heartbeats" it is both a translation of the vast irrational (poetry) and the visceral notion that something use to live until holy in the twist of your own cervix. Your voice in this poem is so pure; so full of life.....dana

[Samuel Dickens]

It's great that you can let negative criticism roll off your back. I may not be as good at it as you, but still, I don't beat myself up if someone doesn't like what I've done. I mean, what is there in life that can't have holes poked in it by someone? Let's see them do better--if they can.

[barleygirl]

I don't relate personally, since I feel plenty of love about my writing most of the time. But your poem hits home something I've said a few times here, that our writing gets better when we stop worrying about how it's going to be received. I love how you start right out of the gates with an unexpected comparisons that pop! To me, original writing is the best kind & you've got it going on in spades! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Terpsichore]

You strike a chord here. I am well used to those raised eyebrows. More fool them I say. :)


T

[Robert Trakofler]

Everyone knows I write poetry now... I am no longer a closet poet, when people ask if I have been published I always reply posthumously... many times! It is funny most of my life I have promoted other peoples art whether it was thru my art gallery or thru music events or opening up my place for performances including poetry readings, filming movies, getting props for theatres I even had the opera perform here once what have you, if you can think of it chances are I probably did it! But when it comes to my own stuff I am the worst self promoter you will ever meet:/ If I sing or drum live I get horrid stage fright even after having done it many many times now and I think that applies to my writing too:) but when someone is serious about asking me about poetry I will tell them the truth and this is it. I can not stop writing it is a sickness a malady it overwhelms all most every other thing I do it is an insatiable hunger if i didn't have to work to eat it would not surprise me if I would die from starvation while typing I don't think I will ever be able to stop I enjoy when you folks read my stuff cause you are all afflicted too but honestly I should care about being published and I am working on it now but it can be a bit of a distraction:) however the time for the poet is coming again the pendulum is swinging back our way soon dear Beccy just you wait:) besides... your afflicted enjoy the strange it suits you well

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

I've actually been lucky to have friends who were really interested in the fact that I write poetry, that is, until I made them cry with words. LOL! I don't think people like to dive deep into their feelings. It takes a lot of time and effort and quietness that most find uncomfortable. I've never been one to care much about the ways of the world or what other people think. I'm a hard enough judge on myself. This is a well-written and well-crafted poem … very thought provoking.

[Eilis]

I don't tell people I write poetry anymore. The last time I did, the man said: "Are you published?" I said, "I have a few poems published, but no book." He immediately lost interest and walked away. Not the first such reaction I've gotten. The sense that writing poetry is a waste of time is something I've grown well used to. I even have to tell myself it is not on occasion and keep pressing on. I do long for a time when the poet was considered a wise voice in culture. The social voice of the times-- and I think we still are, but poetry is not the same thing as it used to be in the public sphere.

And I like the way you offer the shift here. I read this as a shift in ideals where what is admired or coveted on the grand cultural scale is the material representations of affluence or conformity. The brand names and the decorated homes that will need to be redecorated next season to keep pace with the ever shifting taste of an internet driven world. Poetry, like clear thought, takes time. It requires absorption and thought and understanding beyond the superficial. Being a carbon copy or magazine page doesn't require much from us but a willingness to relinquish our individuality in an effort to please the majority.

It's a great concept, Beccy. I'm a thrift shopper myself or inheritor of things people don't want. Life is too short to collect things you don't really care for, and too crowded to keep adding inventory to fullness. I do always enjoy the intellectual explorations of your poetry.

[Beccy]

More than a few of my friends think I'm a little odd, writing poetry as I do. I find them equally odd when they wax effusive over the latest pointless frippery they've just bought. I don't say anything, just smile and nod; after all, it's not worth losing a friend over such irrelevances.

My grandma, (nanny goggles,) so called because of the old fashioned, pink plastic NHS glasses she always insisted on wearing, regularly frequented jumble sales. An abiding childhood memory my sister and I have is of being taken to one such sale, only to find out that the organisers had put the wrong date, (a week hence,) on the advertising flyers and posters, with the result that no-one turned up except nanny, who had somehow found out the correct date. She then proceeded to buy the whole jumble sale for the princely sum of £30.00, about £150.00 in today's money. I shall never, ever forget how much fun my sister and I had sorting through it all; and to this day, with the continuing influence of our parents; the both of us remain firmly in the 'waste not, want not,' camp. :))

[Eilis]

Your story about Nanny Goggles makes me smile. She was a pro second hand shopper. I can imagine the fun that big haul would have been for two young sisters!

[Beccy]

Nan got the heads up from a friend who worked in the village library and had contributed some books for the jumble. Part of the haul was 'Cotswold Ballads,' a 1974 published book of poetry by Frank Mansell, which was signed by the poet. It remains a cherished part of my mostly poetry books collection, many of which were left to me by my nan when she passed. I love reading poetry as much as I love writing it.

[Eilis]

What s lovely relic of that memory to have a book you still love. I love reading poetry too, and believe in that maxim by so many writers that if you want to write you need to read first. Thanks for sharing your great story, Beccy. Loved reading that.

[Crowley]

A brilliant societal comment. Being labeled a poet, oh no, even being labeled a wannabe writer...well he must not have any other skills, poor man fancies himself a writer, we all know what that means. Reading this made me happy this morning. Happy Saturday!!!