A Revelation (among other things)

I think I might love poetry. I severely undervalue it and the writers, the poets. Why have I come to this conclusion? This week I've been completely bombarded with all things poetry. Monday was poetry workshop, last night we met at our instructors house for wine and poetry, today the writer's workshop speaker was a poet. Poetry Poetry Poetry. I love poetry. This is strange for me to say because I've always valued fiction and prose so much, but the way poetry makes me feel, the aftermath of all of this, is just complete happiness.

Last night, our poetry class met at our instructor's house for wine and poetry. This was the cap of my day that involved Irish Women's Writing and then roaming the streets of Galway. After a rousing discussion of the Troubles and how Elizabeth Bowen represented that in her novel, where the girl doing her presentation printed out a background specifically for me (Bowen had written an introduction for American readers especially and the girl had thought of me, aww!) and after being told by one girl in the class that I wouldn't really understand because I wasn't Irish (I don't think she meant it the way it sounded), I headed into town to kill some time before our social evening. I ran into Lisa and Sarah, two girls from my Writing course and they invited me over to their apartment so we could all walk over together.

That settled, I went in search of food (I'm always searching for food). I found a little pizza place on a side street and walked in. Instantly I thought to myself "I've been here before". A girl and a guy were working there and really having a great time. When I went to pay, I asked the guy if this particular shop had always been a pizza place. No, they'd opened in January. A girl behind me said, "It used to be a sandwich and smoothie shop". Diane Kanter, this is the same shop where we ordered our delicious bagel sandwiches five years ago. How interesting! With that, I headed off to Sarah and Lisa's fantastic apartment that is guarded by a bright blue gate. Off we went to Eva's house which was just up the road and absolutely fantastic. We spent the evening drinking wine, eating roasted pecans (yum!) and talking and reading poetry. Afterwards, some of the girls went to the Roisin Dubh for after wine drinks. I ended up talking to this really ridiculous guy with an even more ridiculous mustache, but at least it was amusing. I'm not sure he got my jokes, or if he realized that he was the joke, but oh well.

Today I had my one on one meeting with Eva about my poetry and it went really well. She's so helpful and encouraging. We went over some poetry that I'd written outside of class, before I got to Ireland. She liked things about all of them, but I'm going to post the one she described as "complete". I actually started writing this one day while sitting under a tree outside of the Media Arts Building in Blacksburg.

Tuesday Morning in May

Wake up sugar.

I pranced upon the bed

over and around you

to watch the crystals

float with the breeze

and see the sprinkles

sparkle from my fingers

into the air in the sun

Wake up Wake up

This is no confectioner's dream

You ask how I expect

to clean up this mess I've made

my mess, sweet sweet mess

The birds through the window

made me happy

The light was just so

soft oh so soft

Wake up from those linen sheets

There are diamonds in the lake

Jewels on the clothesline

and gold in the hills

Come sugar.

Come with me and we will

lie amongst the columbine

wearing lady slippers

and have tea with the hollyhock

adorned with Queen Anne's lace

Oh sugar, sugar, sugar

Wake up.

The Writer's Workshop was today as well. Our speaker was Moya Cannon, a poet and member of Aosdana. Aosdana is an organization of artists in Ireland. Membership is limited to 250 artists and is apparently a really great honor. Eva Bourke is also a member. Moya read from her collection of poems and then we had a question and answer portion which really turned into a discussion. It was so natural. One poem she read was called "Driving Back over the Blue Ridge". It turns out that Moya spent some time in Lynchburg five years ago at the Virginia Center for Creative Arts. I'll have to find the poem and post it. It really was beautiful. After the workshop, we generally have a drink or tea with the speaker, and we chatted a little bit about Virginia and North Carolina. Deirdre, a woman in our course, is from Chapel Hill and so it was really nice and felt great to fall into a conversation with someone who's so respected. I left there feeling elated over the days events. Which brings me back to my opening statement. I love poetry. On the way home, I ran into a woman and her dog. I had seen them this morning and had said hello, which is normal. She had seemed very open this morning (or afternoon really) and I think it set the tone for the day. She was speaking to an old man on the street and I stopped to pet the dog and say hello again. It was the type of exchange you have with a neighbor and it was so nice and I walked home the rest of the way feeling that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be, especially when the horse near my house looked up and trotted over to say hello. This must be a good omen for the weekend.