Poetic Points of View

The depth of sea and the height of air
Present contrasting points of view
In a Coleridgeian sense a place does not spare
Its landscapes, a beauty to pursue.

Often our space for view, observation,
Notes on shape, tone, hue, and curve,
Raises in us questions and speculation
In all things, love, is it present, does it serve?

I went to a poetry reading at the library the other afternoon. It was an author reading her own works (and she had 8-10 published books for sale - really remarkable!). She read many of her poems, during which, I sat watching her read, listening to her word selection and associations that she would use that were contrasting and interesting. I appreciated her alliterative descriptive phrasings. Her use of repetition was effective, especially as she talked about leaves in autumn and the abundance of them where she lived in Minnesota. Her images were abundant, and eventually led somewhere. That is the nature of poems. 

In between reading poems she would share a quick bit of wisdom about poetry. I scribbled in my journal. I love to hear other's insights into their creative process and their discoveries from their years as a writer. 

Her poems were meant to be read out load to people. Most poems are meant for that. Like good music, good poetry has a communal appreciation when you are among other poetry lovers. A young woman a little older than me sat next to me and we started chatting before the event started. She, like me, was a lover of words and writing. She had her notebook to write in, as well. I was glad I wasn't the only one who jots notes during presentations and lectures. She had just started a blog so that she can practice her writing and stay motivated. I told her that I have written on a blog for years, in order to practice and challenge myself to keep on writing.

It's small encounters like this that help remind me to keep writing, keep practicing, keep doing what I love. When we really care deeply about something, it is usually going to come out and shine to anyone who encounters you. As I left the library, I stopped to smell the gorgeous autumn roses just outside the building.