Tag: poetry
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The Writing Blues
My children are ever so much more productively writing than I am. Vincent’s discovering the discoveries and challenges of reading and writing, and Aidan is doggedly working on his own mysterious pages. I, on the other hand, have written exactly two poems since my mother died. That Salamander will be publishing one of them in…
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The Beaufort Scale
I’ve always been fascinated by the Beaufort Scale. It could be because the concept of measurement itself is intrinsically interesting, but how the Beaufort Scale grapples with wind is a sort of poetry. Its language is simple and elegant, metaphorical. And it’s served as a point of inspiration for: a book, Defining the Wind, this very cool art/poetry…
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Grief & Poetry in Progress
Seventeen weeks since my mother died. If my grief were a baby, it wouldn’t be eating solid food yet. If my grief were a grapevine, the fruit would only now be ripening. But my grief will not grow, or rot on the vine. If anything has changed, it’s my understanding of how to approach it:…
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This week at Linebreak
Many of you will already have seen this on Facebook, but for those of you who’ve resisted the FB-lure, I’m happy to tell you that my poem is featured this week at Linebreak. You can read it here, with a terrific audio recording by Randall Mann. I love how he takes his time, savoring the…
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Magical Thinking
If I’m mired in grief, it’s not for Mum’s death alone. Since March there have been so many losses: four mothers dead, and only one of them mine, and another just 42, just last week. This will surprise no one, but it’s not my grief that’s the most difficult, but the anguish of these bereft…
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“Every lament is a love-song.”*
Many summer Sundays growing up, my family would get up at dawn, skip church, and instead head out to the beach at the Myles Standish State Forest in Carver, MA. Not just my immediate family, but a huge swath of aunts, uncles, and cousins — Mum was a Georgia girl, but Dad was born &…
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The Emperor of All Maladies hastens The Long Goodbye
But first: The Massachusetts Poetry Festival begins tomorrow! The poetry world will descend on Salem and it will be awesome. (Aside: I was researching parking etc on Google, and, as I began to note the many paranormal/witchy shops, wondered, What’s up with that? Yeah, that’s me, just a little slow on the uptake.) Saturday is…
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Despite it all…
…I know I’m lucky. I’m lucky that I was born to a great mother, that I loved her and told her so all the time. That I was able to be there for her and that she let me care for her was a real blessing. A critical illness has a way of burning away…
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The stories we tell ourselves about ourselves
According to a post at Scientific American, people who have experienced loss or trauma may find healing if they are able to turn their life stories into a narrative that hangs together and makes sense. Recent research suggests that developing a story from the events in one’s life — not necessarily a story with a happy ending,…
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Too True
The 4 truths and one lie about myself, with the lie revealed: My tenth grade teacher called me the Emily Dickinson of our class. When I showed him my next poem, he took a friend aside to inquire about my mental health. I laughed. “Poetic license, dude!” **TRUE. My first lesson that readers often confuse…
Marie Gauthier 