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thirteen pews and poets not few
Folder:
close enough to a sonnet thirteen pews and poets not few,
in a dim lit theatre in a town of fright,
reading to myself and all of you,
sharing our poems tonight;
do you see our vulnerability,
our nakedness and shame?
our writer’s block of infertility,
miscarried and scornful in frame?
we may name ourselves as outcasts
misunderstood in our day to day lives,
yet we create from a hope which outlasts,
the pain of betrayal’s hateful knives;
thirteen pews and poets not few,
i am happy to read and listen to you.
I really like this poem. I
I really like this poem. I admit to not fully understanding lines five through eight, especially the word shame, so perhaps you can explicate this for me (at my age, I am sure I am missing some key aspect that soared with over my fat head). But the poem is, itself, a wonderful homage to the fellowship of Poetry.
Starward
On shame
Starward,
I would be more than happy to explain the poem, and give the context behind it. I live in Indianapolis, pretty close to a neighborhood called Irivington. It's an old historical district in a somewhat more urban part of town, but there's quite a bit of culture there as a result. Irvington is known for being "haunted," and there are big Halloween celebrations in it every year. Hence the line, "in a town of fright."
There is a theatre in Irvington called the Irving Theatre. It is old, and a little bit run down and dark on the inside. I go to a poetry reading there every so often. Some of the seating is old church pews. There are thirteen church pews in the theatre. I wrote this poem last night while seated in one of those pews.
Lines 5-8 cover the fact that many of the poets there were sharing poems that were about shameful parts of their lives, as often poetry can do. Many of the poets last night were extremely timid about sharing their work, as I believe they may have perhaps felt embarrassed to share their poetry out loud with a group of strangers. Hope that answers your question!
Regards,
Evan
"Paper is patient." - Anne Frank
Thank you, and yes!, I very
Thank you, and yes!, I very badly misread the poem and misunderstood what it said. Again let me emphasize---that misreading is on me, and not on the poem. I appreciate your patience with my confusion.
Starward
Starward, One thing I find
Starward,
One thing I find so beautiful about poetry is that while it matters what the poet meant, what the reader derives from it is oftentimes even more important!
Regards,
Evan
"Paper is patient." - Anne Frank
And what a theatre it is!
And what a theatre it is! Postpoems being one of several that have a modicum of regularity that embody poetic rite and liturgy. Quite an effect that has on me!
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
An extended family.
Bard,
In the strangest of ways, postpoems has become a home away from home to me. It may seem strange, but sometimes I see you as a traveling bard in a tavern of Skyrim, committed to his craft. Glad you enjoyed the poem!
Regards,
Evan
"Paper is patient." - Anne Frank
It may not be strange at all
It may not be strange at all as we have our watering holes, pubs and happy places or spidey parapets, whatever suits the individual. And yes, besides a theatre and a family, it is also a home away from home. Extended family is quite apt to the feel and function as well. Cheers Evan!
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver