#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Morning Charles River View
“Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.”
~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, from A Defence of Poetry and Other Essays.
A wintry sky I love, pale-ish blue, a low sun behind clouds and the pale-ish blue snow all around. We ski into this morning, energetic and enlivened. River is part ice, part ripple, all bumpy and ridged. After I skied a long way to another leg of the Charles I saw what might have been a beaver, maybe a muskrat, on the other shore, dipping its head under the water. No Wednesday morning writers today. We have our annual holiday Open Readings Story Fire on Friday, so everyone’s prepping for that. Almost home, I meet a fellow skier. He has no dog. He is friendly and cheerful when we say hello. He is just starting his trek. There are my fresh tracks for him to follow. I work all day on various things, and in the late afternoon, early evening, I open the poem about my Montreal travel photo that I brought to workshop Monday night. I extract what seems to be a separate poem and work on that until I’m satisfied. It is its own poem. This feels right. I fuss with a new title. I’m pleased with it. Then, I return to the original poem, the long one. I work on it quite a bit until it is much shorter and better. Now I have revisions of two new poems from my photo, and I like them both. I’m so glad I took the time, Saturday morning, to write from this photo of Frank walking the dogs with me in Montreal. I was so full of doubt. What would come of all this rambling raw material? Would I find a poem in this? Where? How? And then it happened as it always does even though I fear it won’t. I just look for what I like, for the feelings and the words that grab me, for any inkling of beauty and truth. And then, the scariest part: open a new blank page. Start somewhere. Where? Who knows? Just ask. Where? Here. Now, just keep going. Line by line. What a mess. Do I like anything about this? Keep going. Somehow, there is a rough first draft. Still, much doubt. Also, commitment. Willingness. Risk. It’s mine. I made this. It says something I need to ask.
“The genesis of a poem for me is usually a cluster of words. The only good metaphor I can think of is a scientific one: dipping a thread into a supersaturated solution to induce crystal formation. I don’t think I solve problems in my poetry; I think I uncover the problems.”
~Margaret Atwood
Have you downloaded my new favorite travel photo writing prompt? I hope you will!