Making Poetry

This is how you write poetry.
Your eyes spy a thing and feel the resonance.
The feeling. My therapist would call it a trigger.

But being who you are it is hard to identify.
Feelings come easily, but the words for them do not.
And so, you let it settle, that image.

Sometimes for hours. Or days. Or months.
Or years. The words come, but slowly
and a bit obliquely.

And so, you begin with the thing.
A description. A poetry of thing or place.
A few details, until suddenly

like an ice jam in spring,
it all breaks loose. The words.
The emotions are given life

and poetry comes.
And you feel it all over again,
this time with words.

About this poem

No. Not all poems come this way, but probably two-thirds of them do. I really am not good at expressing feelings in the heat of the moment – the only places I can is when faced with love or injustice. Otherwise, I struggle. The words come slowly. Poetry is my path of discovery.

Poetry and photographs. My family and closest friends know, when they see me take certain pictures. “There’s a poem in that one.” they will say. And they are right, but it often takes a long time for the poem to emerge.

The photograph was taken at the Hancock Shaker Village in Hancock, Mass.

Have a beautiful week.

Tom