A Chat Between Two Poets

Kids, recently, our friend,  Elizabeth Crawford, over at Soul's Music, wrote a series of three especially impactful poems, full of birds and wild creatures, with extremely intriguing titles. I perked up my ears and decided to nab them for a blog of the week. But Elizabeth and I then had a pretty cool chat about how her poems came to be, and about her process. And, wise poet that she is, Elizabeth suggested I offer our chat as further illumination for her poems, and a glimpse at the poet's creative process. An idea I leaped upon eagerly. So, here we are, my friends: our chat between two poets.

Sherry: Elizabeth, how cool is this? The first thing I would like to chat about are your titles: Love Loves Difficult Things, Scrambling on the Bridge to Forgiveness, and An Albatross of Difficult Scribbling. It was the titles of these  poems, especially, that really intrigued me and made me perk up my ears. How did you arrive at them?

Elizabeth: How I came to use those particular ones? I’ve been writing poetry for over thirty years and have always found creating a title for them, one of the most difficult aspects of writing poetry at all. Left alone, to do as I please, most of the hundreds of poems I have written would probably end up titled “Untitled, #368”, or something of that sort. Which, of course, would make it difficult for any reader wanting to go back and find a particular piece.

I did an English Major in college, with a writing concentration (you could actually call that a poetry writing concentration). I took every Creative Writing: Poetry course offered during my years at the University, once I knew that I actually found writing poetry both a deeply satisfying challenge, and something I was rather good at doing. 

During all those Poetry Writing classes, I remember only one thing that was said about the creation of titles, and that was that they were the lead in to the poem, a sort of capsule version, or capture of the meaning or intent behind the work. At the time, I didn’t have any plans of publishing my stuff, I found it the best and cheapest form of therapy and continued writing it for that reason. My obvious lack of interest in titles seems to only prove my primary objective, as well as my difficulty with creating them.

I have only ever written a title and then the poem on very rare occasions. I usually don’t know where a poem is going until it works itself out, so I leave the title for last. Then simply sit back, try to relax and explore my intention, and whatever meaning I came upon during the writing. A process I used for all three of the poem titles you asked about.

Sherry: Well, that is very interesting. The title is significant, leading the reader into the poem, and encapsulating its meaning. A mini-preview, as it were. I adore your poem, Love Loves Difficult Things. (especially from my perspective as a mother :) . Cackle!)

Elizabeth: Love Loves Difficult Things is a direct quote from the book Neil used to create the prompt 1000 Birds at We Write Poems weekly prompt. No one was more surprised than I was when the poem turned into a piece of Mythos. About half way through it, I knew that I wanted to use the quote for the last line of the poem, and eventually, as the title for it as well. That is called a reflexive, a poetic device meant to create a wholeness to the piece itself and a means of directing the reader right back to its beginnings and perhaps to another reading.

And by the way, I didn’t know that the first time I did it (thinking it was a clever thing to do for finding a title). The professor of my class brought that poem in and read it aloud to the class, then spent a good half hour explaining what a reflexive is and that one should use them sparingly or get caught up in stretching or overworking a poem to accommodate that particular poetic technique. I use it only when it seems to fall naturally into place, and that is not very often.

Sherry: Interesting that the things we sometimes do naturally, actually have names, and are techniques. Interesting info, Elizabeth. Now let's read your wonderful poem.

“Love Loves Difficult Things”

I hear and I forget.

I see and understand.

I do and I become.

-Found in a fortune cookie

God gathered all of the hawks,

from kestrels to harriers and falcons,

on a tree covered hillside

where they might perch in limbs

high and low to listen.

God spoke: I have chosen you

to be my messengers because

my human creations find it hard

to sit still and listen for that quiet

voice that calls from within their souls.

Yet, they continue to seek wholeness

outside themselves in things, causes,

issues, and others whose faces

are similar to their own.

You, with your keen eyes, swift

wings, sharp talons and beaks,

and fierce spirits, might catch

their attention with your piercing

calls and undivided focus.

No wings moved through the trees

as the hawks, large and small,

fierce with focus, leaned in to listen.

From a barren branch high on the hill

gnarled voice of an old gray gyrfalcon called,

“But we can not speak to these creatures.

We do not share the same language.”

And God replied, Yes, I know that.

You will share your message through

example. Simply by being who you

truly are.

The old falcon asked, “But what of all

your other creatures? The furred and four

legged, butterflies, insects? All the other

birds that fly, swoop, and sing in celebration

of their existence? Should they not be your

messengers as well?”

As they are and will always be. Each day

I meet with different ones, explaining

their purpose and message:

The cardinal with its blood color

is a reminder that sacred creative

fire burns no matter the season.

The deer with its tender spirit

speaks of being gentle, especially

toward oneself.

Friend of the night, the owl helps

one see that there will always be

light somewhere in the darkness.

The four wings of a butterfly

carry a message of four steps

in growth toward transformation.

Loyalty is the dog’s missive, just

as building is the beaver’s, and transmutation

belongs to the snake that sheds its skin,

renewing itself periodically.

“And will they hear your message?”

God smiled and said, Some always have:

the poets, painters, musicians, sculptors,

and the like. They, in turn, express it in

their art, becoming yet another message.

The hawks nodded in understanding.

Small blue and brown kestrel leaned forward

with a frown, “Sounds like a lot of trouble

to send a message to creatures slow to hear it,

let alone, to understand.”

Yes, it (they) can be difficult at times. But,

I created them that way. I am God.

Which means I am love, and love

especially loves difficult things.

Elizabeth Crawford 2/20/14

Sherry: Wow. I adore this poem! It leaves me in awe. It fills the heart with - hope - and Love. 

Elizabeth: The other two titles are far more involved in the process I mentioned earlier. Both poems were created from wordle lists. The first one, Scrambling On The Bridge To Forgiveness, came from Brenda’s weekly twelve or thirteen word wordle at The Sunday Whirl . I almost didn’t do this poem at all. 

I was seriously caught on that bridge in the title, wanting to forgive a particularly painful betrayal, but also wondering if I would be hurting myself if I did so. And because it was the sticky place I was currently inhabiting, it obviously worked its way into the poem. I originally decided to call it On The Bridge To Forgiveness. 

A bridge is a path over some sort of obstacle in one's journey from here to there. However, after working through the piece several times, I realized that the second half of the poem was a metaphor for scrambling eggs, but I hadn’t used that word at all. Scrambling, according to the dictionary, besides being a cooking term, describes an energetic climb or struggle that takes place with a sense of urgency or haste. That was my feeling, not only about finishing the poem, but about my current circumstances.

Scrambling On The Bridge To Forgiveness

Pain is the shell that encloses your understanding…

--Kahlil Gibran

Blown trust of betrayal might be highest

form of test for human spirit. A trial of sorts,

where both sides of one distinctly divided being,

bring opposing heart felt arguments

to course of same events.

Not unlike an egg beaten with stick

inside thick ceramic mug, blended

with small amounts of milk-white truth,

then tossed into heated pan, stirred

to become thickened amalgam

more readily swallowed

and meant to nurture a soul

toward forgiveness.

Elizabeth Crawford  2/23/14

Sherry: I read this with bated breath, having just scrambled through an identical situation myself. This often happens online, as people live and write their way through their situations. 

Elizabeth: The third title is much easier to explain, or maybe I should say simpler to understand. An Albatross of Difficult Scribbling is the result of another wordle, this one containing thirty-three words, three words each, taken from eleven different poems that were written in response to Neil’s already mentioned prompt. The problem here being that I was the one who chose all those words, never once taking into consideration I would have to try to use them myself in response to the wordle created. 

I have a problem with abuse of any kind, especially that aimed at children and animals. Perhaps because both groups are often the unwitting messengers of buried or secretly held truths, and all too often became the brunt for anger and violence when those truths are uncovered. When I was writing the poem, I realized how easy it would be to unleash my own angst at the individuals the poem was aimed at. Not good, but always a problem when dealing with the reality that the personal is political and the political is, just as often, personal. 

So, I took a break in the middle of writing it and found a calming affect in something else I had written years before. Came back and finished the poem, only to realize that I had used all but three of the words in the wordle list. Those three words became the title of the poem and speak to my own process in writing it and finding a less than angry ranting solution. The albatross became a symbol of a heavy burden in the story of The Ancient Mariner.

An Albatross of Difficult Scribbling

albatross – an oppressive burden or hindrance

                                  --Dictionary

Lacking any and all deceit, one must

wonder at peeling purgatory reserved

for those jaded enough to dismiss tornado

of constant warnings brought by

a thousand different messengers.

In particular, those that would

ignore the guttural mourning cry

and call of winged and four-legged

creatures suffering from plague

of irresponsible actions of others,

who believe themselves the royal

height of God’s creation.

Who, in mindless quest to insulate

themselves from own pessimistic reality,

turn their backs to mysteries of nature.

Never knowing magic to be found

in flight of a single hummingbird…

its wings a whirlwind of tumbling motion.

Cannot, or will not, find inspiration in journey

of a sea turtle migrating hundreds

of ocean miles in search of home

or see miracle of a caterpillar as it slowly

morphs into beauty of a monarch butterfly.

Too busy twittering about unfair

weather conditions, balancing bank

accounts to acquire material possessions,

they are blind to the pluck and courage

of these “much lesser” beings.

Yes, one can only imagine a special place

kept for these. Perhaps small steel cages,

hung in a huge forest, like scattered

chandeliers, where every day they

are forced to listen to their four-legged

keeper (am thinking a certain Siberian

tiger*), as he teaches them respect toward

yet another incredible species.

Elizabeth Crawford  2/24/14

Sherry: This is so soul-satisfying, the idea that humans will one day learn from our fellow creatures how to live together on this planet. May it be so.

Elizabeth: All three of these poems were written in the period of one week. All three together, prove to me, once again, that the writing of poetry is simply damned good therapy and cheaper than any other form of it.

What I like most about the poetry circuit is that it often works as synchronicity in my life, and the prompts are such a fantastic source of inspiration.  I love synchronicity, and your questions about these titles was a huge piece within the puzzle that continues to be me. 

Thanks, my friend.

Sherry: Thank you, Elizabeth, for these three glorious poems and for this wonderful conversation! I  think your idea of Poet Chats is a great one, and one we will re-visit from time to time.

Well, kids? Wasn't this perfect? Elizabeth has been a loyal member of Poets United since its beginnings. She writes most days, at Soul's Music, and also creates the most beautiful mandalas, which can be enjoyed at her two Mandala Gallery blogs. Elizabeth is also a contributor to the Red Wolf Journal, and some of her writing can be found in that publication.

Thank you, Elizabeth, for your long-time membership at Poets United - and for the beauty and wisdom you share daily on your blog. We appreciate you!

Kids, I hope you enjoyed this chat as much as I did. Come back to see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!