A poetry group I belong to thought it might be a good idea to write one poem a day for April 2015 – National Poetry Month – so we gave it a try. I managed to do it without missing a day, but doing so caused a few muscle cramps along the way. The unexpected result – at least for me – was that we produced some interesting poems on demand, and we all enjoyed it enough to do it again during the current month. Again, a few muscle cramps, but the process is feeling less strenuous now – any exercise feels better if you do it daily instead of sporadically. Of course, I’m not writing the same kind of poetry I usually write, the kind with what I’ll call, for lack of a better word, complications. Instead, I’m going for short, accepting the fact that a lot of what I produce will be chaff instead of wheat, and I’m learning a few things about the sweet joys of brevity. The essence of a poem’s inspiration – similar to photography’s decisive moment – comes through with more clarity. Brevity can feel clean and uncluttered.
For example, the other day I saw a good friend who went through my MFA program with me, and for the first time I met his daughter, who is now four. She was shy at first, but when she got more comfortable, she began to tell stories and giggle and chat and do what four-year old girls normally do – steal the limelight. The more my friend wanted to catch up with me, the more his daughter wanted to bring the light back to her own observations. She’s a natural sharer, and so is my grandson – both of them delightful and both of them with a lot to say. At a certain point, she began to pat her dad’s cheeks and say, “Look, Daddy. Look, Daddy. Daddy, look!” and I thought about my own kids, grown now and no longer in need of my attention that way – no one patting my cheeks, no one thrilled by my attention. And I thought of my husband, and how I used to watch him be a father, which I get to see only once in awhile now, since it’s just the two of us at home.
I knew what I was feeling would be a good opportunity for a poem – not an expansive poem but a zen moment kind of a poem – a small observation meant to capture a large and bittersweet longing, kind of like the image of the small goldfish in the large bowl which I put at the top of this post – something small floating in an expansive space. My poem for the day was this:
She Was Thinking All Night
…about the things she missed most, like
the way a little girl says daddy look
look daddy and then the way a daddy
turns and looks
Twenty-five words. It captures what I was thinking about for the rest of the night, after my friend and I said goodbye. For all I know, it will be too long before I see him again. If so, his daughter will be more independent and need his attention less. We’ll probably catch up more, but I won’t get that moment when she pats his cheeks and says “Look, Daddy.” Moments, poems, observations, feelings – there’s a lot out there that comes and goes quickly. For those of us who, in their writing, tend to go on a bit, and then a bit more, I recommend brevity on occasion.
Kimberly Moran is the host for this week’s Poetry Friday. Head over there to see what other people have posted.