(Sketchbook pages from 2019)
Hello and happy spring equinox - the moon has been so prominent in the sky over the past few days, like a child’s paper-cut out lurking behind my neighbour’s gnarly old apple tree. It’s that time of year that often sparks poetry in us - even those who seldom write. The sun can lift one’s confidence, perhaps?
We have all written poems. Some people think that was a school-thing, long ago now. Others write a poem when tragedy hits, to explore grief. Others think their poems are not poems but just something they had to get out of their ‘system’ and on to a scrap of paper never to be seen by anyone else. Some others enjoy sharing their work and belong to reading groups, send their poems off to editors in hopeful bundles….
I have written poems and studied poetry, had my poems published and won a few prizes. Years ago I decided not to make the poetry business my focus. It is as it has been for many years, full of expectation, hard knocks, cliques and prize competitions run like lotteries. I still love poetry and still write it but more as a way into other ideas, to spark the visual and as a record.
(sketchbook pages from 2015)
Seldom do I look back at my own poems, but for these studio notes I decided to do something - a little experiment. I knew I had a poem titled: How To Write A Spring Poem - and did a quick search in my files to find it. Writing a poem about writing poetry is supposedly a bit of a no-no. A bit arch, a bit like navel-gazing? You know the song about the songwriter who just can’t find the right words. Poets love to write out their struggles, but writing about your struggle to write about them is not meant to be…. But I see no harm in playing with this idea, seeing where it may take you.
I found my poem and then wrote another. So that I now have (at least) two versions of this. Just for the playfulness. The poems may give me ideas for paintings, sketchbook pages, stories, other poems. See them as little stretch exercises for language and the joy of seeing spring arrive. I am sharing both poems here but it’s not to ask: which do you prefer? Rather, I would like to suggest you write your own version. If anyone would like to have a go at a How To Write A Spring Poem - ( and you are welcome to pinch some of my lines and embroider around them with your own words) - then do. If you would like me to read it, you can email me (ccullis@gmail.com) with your poem. If I decide to share one I will do so with your permission and will pay you with a small spring drawing as thanks. You need not think you are poet - just have a go. Enjoy!
How To Write A Spring Poem (2016)
Become forgetful, talk as if you have never
been here before. Kneel in odd places.
Observe the dead among the living.
Un-name your childhood flowers.
Steal only the daintiest buds.
Borrow from the ground up.
Write notes to yourself and lose them near and far.
Focus on the nothing in gaps of sun.
Address only the rain, old waking bees,
the crones of orchards with their
skirts on fire. Gather baskets of
birdsong, as much as you can carry home.
Follow a sound, even the small tap-tap
of your silver necklace against the window.
Scrub your words until evening,
think of them as feathers for nests.
Sing not for old heroes
but for yourself.
(Stitched poem from 2016. I had forgotten all about stitching it! But here’s a photo of the piece I made, the poem stitched using my sewing machine as a writing tool.)
And then there’s the poem I wrote yesterday, less revised, but still:
How To Write A Spring Poem (2022)
Become the waking bee, the angular butterfly,
follow the birds as they mingle approvingly
for the spring light is just as they expected and their
expectations mean everything to you.
Listen to birdsong at the appropriate times: all day long.
Fill the song with a rattle of blossom and heartache,
place on your windowsill and sketch the angles.
Paint a riot of colour and wash it away.
Invent new paths through old gardens,
the bittersweet of frosted rhododendron.
Observe the other songs: of rain, moon and grass,
the forget-me-nots as they thicken their leaves.
Never mind if your words are trite or sentimental,
be as you are, for this is our spring.
**
I have rambled on - hopefully you have made it to here because I would like to update on my doll-making progress. These mixed media dolls are dainty beings taking up big chunks of my creating time. But I am enjoying the process. I can see who they are now they have faces! I am making a scene of three dolls in a shadow box, a single doll will have her own shadow box and then there will be individual dolls - all I hope will be ready to share very soon.
**
I hope you are enjoying the start of spring (or autumn) where you are in the world, though I know some of my North American friends are still experiencing snowy days…. It is a bittersweet spring, thinking of so many people elsewhere who are in grave danger….
An update on my fundraising: I am quite flabbergasted to say my offer of a tiny book managed to raise £577 - for the Disasters Emergency committee - an organisation of charities that support refugees and people in devastating circumstances. Thanks so very much for your generous spirit. The winner Jo Valentine and I have been in touch and the book is already on the way to her. I do hope to make some kind of further fundraiser in the future - possibly that zine I keep revising, so that everyone can get a copy. We shall see!
Many thanks for reading here, for your thoughtful comments and sharing. These notes are sent free to all. If you would like to buy me a coffee to show your support - thank you!
Love both versions of your poem! Most often I compose poetry in my head when I am out walking, but seldom take the time to write it down when I get back to the house and then it is gone... Years ago I was fortunate enough to get your little book of four machine stitched poems. Everything about that book amazes me, from the dyed fabric pages to the incredibly legible stitching to the open back that allows the reverse side to be exposed, and of course your own gift of poetry! It hangs on a pin by the door to my studio so that I can see and appreciate it regularly. Your works are all such treasures. ❤️
Unname your childhood flowers…
I like your poems a lot. There are a few flowers I identified as a child through field books and got wrong and am sort of unable to let go of the wrong name for them. Naming things is funny anyway, we think we know things when we give them a name, stop paying attention to them. It’s a good line.