Notes from A Poet's Spirit: In honor of National Poetry Month
Diana M. Raab -- April 14, 2007
As a relatively new poet, I find myself taking this National Poetry Month quite seriously. I want to avail myself of every opportunity to infuse my life with the joy of the poetic realm. It's not that there won't be a chance during other times of the year, but this is a good excuse to be submerged in my latest literary venture.
I also want, in my own way, to give thanks to the fact that poetry entered my life and has changed me forever, giving a voice to the secret chambers of my heart and the inner corners of my soul.
In my column in June 2006 (Entering Poetry), I discussed attending a Billy Collins reading years ago. It was at that reading that I realized poetry can be accessible, rather than difficult to understand and intimidating like it as when I went to high school. I now bathe in solace when writing narrative poetry. To celebrate this, I decided to make special efforts in honor of National Poetry Month. .
To summarize:
- My poetry book, "My Muse Undresses Me," will be launched at the book fair at the National Association for Poetry Therapy's (NAPT) National Conference in Portland, Oregon (where Santa Barbara's own Poet Laureate, Perie Longo, is President) next week. I will also do my first open mic reading.
- I submitted poems to Poetry Super Highway and was chosen as poet of the week. .
- I submitted my poetry to more than 20 literary publications. I wrote follow-up letters to publications who have not acknowledged receipt of my poems. .
- I confirmed with the University of Santa Barbara Extension that I'd teach a one-day workshop in July called, "The Poet's Notebook: Transforming Your Journal Writing Into Poems." .
- I subscribed to Knopfpoetry.com -- a daily dose of The Borzoi Reader, Poem-A-Day being sent to me via email. .
- I subscribed to The American Academy of Poets Poem A Day also sent to me via email. .
- I renamed some of my poems whose titles needed a face lift. I organized my poetry files. .
- I started a computer file with some of my favorite published poems. .
- I alphabetized the poetry books on my shelf. .
- I got tickets to see poet, Mary Oliver at UCSB on April 18th. .
- I proofread some of my son's latest poems and suggested where he send them for publication. .
I must admit, however, the pinnacle of National Poetry Month, for me was dropping in at Again Books on Helena Street and purchasing a stack of used and out-of-print poetry books. Long before moving to Santa Barbara five years ago, this was one of my favorite stops after visiting the pier. Located near the beach, it's easily missed, nestled between larger venues in what is known as the funk zone of Santa Barbara.
On my first visit to Again Books, five years ago, behind a stack of books on a small desk in the corner of the store was a man, probably in his seventies, who warmly welcomed me. Both shy and friendly at the same time, he refrained from offering me too much information, however, he was quite willing to answer my questions about his store and the books he showcased.
I was fascinated by what may have been his story and decided if I ever moved to Santa Barbara I would learn more about him. Somehow time has slipped away and I only ventured into the store this month to learn, sadly, that he'd passed away three years ago.
After standing by the door getting over my shock, I wandered into the poetry aisle and chose an array of used and some out-of-print poetry books. One that particularly grabbed my attention was, The Poet and The Poem by Judson Jerome published in 1974. The book was packed with literary nuggets that I'd later star in pencil
Before buying books I scan at least part of the preface or introduction. It gives the author's voice which often sets the tone for the book. I knew that the nearly 500-page volume would likely take me longer than poetry month to complete, but the introduction made me realize that this book would become one of my favorites. I simply liked the way the author expressed his thoughts.
"To become a poet a person must change -- radically, to the roots," Jerome deftly says. "The sweat required is the cold sweat of terror, among other things. At times it is a more passionate sweat of love... there is not real separation possible between poetry and life -- and the interpretation of our contemporary world and my personal experience in it seems to be as intrinsic to the craft as discussion of diction, meter and figurative language." In his introduction, Jerome goes on to say, "In discussing poetry I have tried to show that there is no way it can be separated from philosophy, individual experience and commitment, from all the rest of human culture."
I closed the book and added it to the collection in my arms. I walked over to the table where the original owner, John Sloan, sat five years ago. Now, a beautiful fifty-something year old woman sat in John's chair. I didn't know their relationship and didn't want to pry, so I chose my words carefully.
"I wondered what happened to the chap who I saw here a few years ago. Are you related?" I inquired.
"Yes I'm his daughter. He died three years ago."
I was shocked to hear the news, especially since I longed to know him.
"I'm sorry," I told her. Her face offered a distant look and I was unable to figure out if she wanted to reminisce or forget the subject. I sensed that she didn't want to expose family secrets and that it might have been a sticky-wicket situation. I decided to keep the conversation basic.
"So you've taken over the store?" I asked, while strategically placing my aligned stack of books on her already crowded desk.
"Yes, I have, but I'll be closing at the end of this month," she said, with more relief than remorse.
"I've just about run out of my father's book collection so I figure it's a good time to close."
"Oh no," I replied in disappointment, "What will you do?"
"Get back to my life. I was an artist, but unfortunately I was the only one in the family able to take over the store, so here I am, but it's not really what I want to do."
I stopped and thought how I wished my dad had a bookstore I could take over, but instead he had a general merchandise store. I suppose I wouldn't have wanted to take that over. I thanked the woman for keeping up with his legacy, if only for a short time, expressed my condolences about the store closing, walked outside and looked back at the sign, "Again Books."
Ironically poetic they'll be closing at the end of this Month.