I’m sticking with Lucille Clifton today for day 2 of GloPoWriMo because I don’t think I read enough of her. I don’t think anyone can read enough of Lucille Clifton.
I came to her writing late and I’m not going to beat myself up to catch up. I’m going to savour every poem I read of Clifton’s as I don’t believe her poetry, her words should be rushed.
Clifton’s words have the ability to live in the bones of a person and that’s where I want them to lodge and not let go.
So today I share ‘cutting greens’ because of this poem’s ‘kissmaking’ – nature and humans as one.
Do you have a favorite place you have visited? Where is it?
Longsands, Tynemouth
I’m grateful to live by the sea.
After a traumatic time in my life, I advocated for myself. I needed time to heal and forget. To be soothed and held.
So I proposed to my family a move to the coast was needed. That’s nearly 15 years ago now. And maybe that move has been thrown back in my face at different times by certain people, I’ve never regretted the move.
Being able to see the sea daily, even if there are times I forgot and neglect this ritual, has been beneficial for my soul, n never mind my body and mind. My soul.
The sea is my soul food. And there have been many times, many times in the past, now and probably to come when I will need this soul food more than I really know/feel.
And she’s there for me. The North Sea is on my doorstep. And I greet her with open arms. She is never the same sea twice and I take my direction/ way of being from her so that I’m living my life within the expansive realms of self-expression rather than within the confines offered to me via this so-called society/ culture.
The sea supports me, being me. And I give thanks to her for that. But I also appreciate her beauty and power and way of being which is on her own terms. you’ve got to love that!
Amber Royal Serena Estelle Musgrove Mason Melgram, Nana Amber, circa 1955
It’s what I do right. When I’ve been absent from the blogs, websites and zines, absent from the public realm, then I take a day out of my schedule to catch -up with them all. To post something, to let my readers know that I’m still here. Still alive and kicking. When I get my bum in the seat and force myself to write, something comes along to fill in the blank spaces. And today is no exception.
I’ve been dancing around cyberspace, updating my spaces with words and reflections and memories.
So for now I’d just like to point you in the direction of Studio Notes over on Substack where I’ve just posted about my nana Amber. For some reason, she’s been on my mind this week, and there at the smell of brown bread from the kitchen she comes back fully to life. Check it out and if you feel inclined, add a comment or even become a subscriber, free or paid.
(Speaking about Robert Lowell’s poetry) “Lowell removes the mask. His speaker is unequivocally himself, and it is hard not to think of Life Studies as a series of personal confidences, rather shameful, that one is honor-bound not to reveal.”
M. L. Rosenthal’s article “Poetry as Confession.”
I’m taking a four week confessional poetry course with midnight & indigo. Founded in 2018, midnight & indigo is a small publisher and literary journal that provides a space for Black women writers to share their narratives with the world.
Tw weeks in and I’m loving the course, Tell Me Something Real: How to Write Confessional Poetry. Not only is the tutor, Schyler Butler knowledgeable, and thorough providing great examples for poetry within this genre all from Black women, but the group of writers signed up for the course bring it every week with their insight and feelings around each poem we read and discuss.
And then we get to trial out what we’ve learnt through these close writings within our own writing, as the sessions finishes with time to write a first draft of a poem and then share it with the group. I’m enjoying what I’m coming up with after being inspired. Because in all honesty, from time I’ve been a confessional poet but have never smashed the term on it.
Confessional poetry in essence can be distilled to 4 main components.
Be of an intimate subject matter.
Use the first person.
Be autobiographical or seen/ appear to be.
Use skilled craftsmanship.
I’m working on a new body of work now. So still in the draft stage but I’ll share a poem from time here, as evidence of my appreciation and dance with this form of poetry.
White Women
Within my family, there are white women. White women who married black men. I forget, neglect the fact that their blood flows through mine.
Trace the past, a sea of faceless white is mine. The black men forefront, a mist of women behind. Their names, I don’t know or forget.
They are the enigma, shadows. Forget the cleaning and cooking, their duty and mine, they went against the grain, steadfast women.
In the corner of the frame, you white women are not forgotten. Your spirit is mine.
Living Wild Studios 