LIFE OF A POET - WENDY BOURKE

We have a cheery one for you today, kids. As you have come across Wendy Bourke, of Words and Words and Whatnot, in the 'sphere, I am sure you have been as impressed as I have been that this is a woman with stories - and that kind of upbeat sense of humor we all so admire. Wendy is an intrepid photographer, so she has also provided us with  a veritable feast of gorgeous photos, many of Vancouver, B.C., Canada, where she and her family reside, (which makes her a near neighbor of mine.) Pour some lemonade over ice in tall, tinkling glasses, settle into your fave chair on the deck in the spring sunshine, and get ready to enjoy.

Sherry:  Wendy, tell us a bit about your life today: where you live, with whom you share your life, your family, so we can have a sense of the poet at home.

Wendy:  I live in Burnaby, British Columbia, with my husband, Michael Bourke.  It is one of many Cities around the City of Vancouver – a very large megalopolis that is referred to as  The Lower Mainland.  I worked as an Academic Secretary at Simon Fraser University before I retired and my husband, who is a retired Information Systems Consultant, works part-time as a Wine Consultant in a lovely little wine shop.  Our 4 children live on the Lower Mainland, too.  And we have two Perrrr-fect Grandsons that we so enjoy spending time with, pitching in with a bit of babysitting.

Vancouver Skyscape

Sherry:  Your life sounds lovely. How nice that your kids are all nearby. Where do you hail from originally?

Wendy:  Originally my husband and I are from Northern Ontario.  I was born in Thunder Bay (in Northern Ontario) in the early 50’s.  At that time, it was a very grass roots kind of place:  people created their own entertainment through plays, music and sports.   You can get to most places in town by car in under 15 minutes – otherwise, you just bundle up and plod on.  I walked a lot growing up in Thunder Bay, and I walk a lot, still.  Walking has always been where I escape to.  Writing, for me, is the natural sequence that comes out of the observations and reflections gathered in that “rambling” state of mind, tromping down streets, through parks and along beaches.

Wendy and Mike as grads

Lakehead University, in Thunder Bay, is where I met my husband, Michael.  We have been (more or less) happily ever-aftering nearly a half century.  It was, very much, a chance encounter.  Long story: short – if I hadn’t been standing near a particular pillar, at a particular moment, at an event, I ordinarily wouldn’t have been at … he probably never would have come into my life.  That blink-of-an-eye, serendipitous start to our relationship, reverberates deeply in me (and in my poetry) and has made me a keen observer of - and believer in - chance occurrences – or fate.  Often, our lives seem to move in almost imperceptible, random ways.  But when we move from living in the moment,  step back and contemplate the process of life unfolding, (and take ownership of our role in that process), it informs our consciousness in a way that is … well:  poetry.

Sherry:  I love that astute connection between observation, introspection and poetry! What brought you West?

Wendy:  Ha!  That is a long story.  After graduation, Mike started as a Taxation Auditor with Revenue Canada and off we went to Ottawa for a couple of years, and then Victoria, B.C. (Gawd, I loved the island – lucky you, Sherry, to be able to live there.)

As this was back in the Stone Age, Revenue Canada began a testing process to find Tax Auditors with a knowledge of Tax Law who had an aptitude for analysis - so that they could train them as Systems Analysts and begin putting together a Canadian Computer Based Tax System.   (Suddenly I feel like Methuselah’s wife!)  And, just like that, the next thing we knew, we were back in Ottawa and Mike was the Supervisor of the Master Tax Payer File of Canada where he created the first Canadian On-Line Taxpayer Data Base.

Skating on the Rideau Canal in Ottawa

Anyw-a-a-ay, the kids started a-coming (we had the four of them in four years – son Matthew, daughter Brynn and fraternal twin sons:  Michael and Patrick).

the Bourke kids as tots

Mike was “locked away” in the Revenue Canada Compound in Ottawa, doing what was, pretty much, a 48 hour-a-day, on-call job, and I … needless to say … was rapidly losing my mind.  Eventually we decided to make some attempt at a quality of life and Mike took a job as an Information Systems Manager back in Thunder Bay.  I enjoyed raising our family there, but, after 14 years, it was time to hit the road again.

Pulling Sleds in Thunder Bay with Dog

Mike went into consulting and his first contract was with Telus in Vancouver.  We jumped at the chance to get closer to Vancouver Island – which we both loved – and so here we are:  with our little band of children, grandchildren, spouses, partners and pets.

Sherry: I am so enjoying the photos of your earlier years. Your kids were adorable! I love that you pulled the sled instead of making the dog do it. My kinda people, LOL. It is wonderful you came out West, after what sounds like a Grand Adventure. Is there anything in your childhood, looking back, that you feel contributed to your becoming a poet? 

Wendy:  I grew up in a time when the school curriculum included memorizing (or “learn by heart” as it was referred to back then) a certain number of poetry lines each year:  very “old school”, by today’s standards, I know – though students could pick the lines they wanted to commit to memory.  Many of my friends complained about this exercise – but I secretly loved it.  It gave me the excuse to pore through book after book of classic poetry and many of these lines come to me, even today.  Lines like James Russell Lowell’s:  Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; and Wordsworth’s:  I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills; and Emily Dickinson’s:  “Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul.  For many years I couldn’t recite Longfellow’s Wreck of the Hesperus without starting to cry and really, to be honest, it still chokes me up, to this day.  And I knew, then:  poetry was powerful stuff.

In the early 60’s, there was a Canadian after school program on the CBC called Razzle Dazzle which had a poetry segment once a week and one day Howard the Turtle read a poem I had submitted.  I thought my heart was going to burst.  Needless to say, I was the talk of the block (amongst the 7 to 10 year old set) for at least another day or two.  Whew!

And then, somewhere in there, I came in 4^th in a Canadian “jingle” contest for Nestle’s Quick.  The prize was a child’s sewing machine – and my picture appeared in the local newspaper, to boot.  I was hooked!

  Jiggle Clipping from Newspaper

Sherry:  Way to go, Wendy! A very discerning Turtle, that was.........and 4th in a nation-wide contest is no small feat! 

Wendy:  I have always written little dribs and drabs of poetry lines and brief verses (embellished – one might say excessively festooned - with a plethora of inexplicable doodles) though, for most of my life, I didn’t respect those disjointed blurts of momentary acuity and unfinished odes, (to say nothing of the toadstools and teacups that danced, in tiny wooden shoes, amongst the words).  

Thus, these early missives departed, one after the other - stuck to the bottom of a pizza box or turfed out with grocery store receipts.

Then, as I approached 60 my cousin, Susan, passed away.  Being the same age, she had been my early muse in life (and I, hers, I believe) and her passing – for so many reasons – was a very hard blow.  There was a lot of “stuff” going on in my life, at that time, and I realized – PROFOUNDLY REALIZED – I only had so many hours left to me, to accomplish those things in life that I wanted to accomplish.  That realization was a gift – and fortunately, a gift that came while I still had time to honour it.  I had always imagined that one day I would begin writing.  That moment, when I picked up a pen to write my first “real” poem was my NOW-OR-NEVER watershed moment.  That was 4 years ago.

Flowers on Window Sill

Sherry: Wow, Wendy, that is a powerful story. Such a sobering loss. The finite nature of life keeps me writing, too.

Wendy: Mentally, I have never felt more in control of my life since I started writing poetry “in earnest,” (though in many ways, it might be argued that the reality belies this all-evidence-to-the-contrary serene state of mind).  But I’ve come to believe that writing – and reading – poetry awakens one’s inner spirit. That for me, at least, confers a kind of peaceful acceptance.

Sherry:  Well said. When and how did you come to the world of blogging?  What impact has blogging had on your work?

Wendy:  I had begun writing light rhyming verses.  I love rhyme – though I realize it is regarded as being somewhat confining and perhaps, even, a bit old-fashioned. But rhyme takes to light, humorous poems – like a duck takes to water.  It is simply meant to be.  And, in fairness to rhyme (and rhymers) it takes a lot of work and reworking to wordsmith a clever quip into a befitting nimble cadence that begins to turn up the corners of your mouth before you even get to the end of a line.  When rhyming is done well, it feels so-o-o-o good (to have written it OR to have read it).

But, if I am completely honest, I admit that, when I first started writing, I hid, somewhat, behind light verse … a kind of “don’t take me seriously, I’m just fooling around” defense mechanism.

Of course, once one starts producing pages and pages of poetry – there comes a point when one yearns for someone to read it.  My husband, Michael, has always been my most stalwart supporter in all my endeavors (albeit, arguably a somewhat “trapped” member of my audience) but I wanted to connect with others who felt the same way I did.  Around this time, I began hearing about the phenomenon of “blogging” as a means of sharing similar interests with like-minded folks; though, as I’ve always thought of myself as a bit of a techno-goof, I didn’t think it was something I would have the technical skills to pursue.  Then one day, my son Michael picked up on my misgivings and offered to set up a blog for me.  Roughly seven minutes later … I was in business!  My first blog,  “Head Doodles”, was up and running. 

Head Doodles Cartoon
by Wendy Bourke

I didn’t have a clue about poetry forums, such as Poets United.  I just kept posting and, to my great delight, visits to my blog began to rise.  Then, one day Jennifer Wagner, at Poet Laundry, joined my blog:  I had my first member.  I cannot say enough about the role Jennifer’s support and sharing of information played in helping me through those months of early growing pains.  I have my doubts that I would still be blogging without her kind encouragement.

It took a year or so, before I waded into the deeper waters of free verse and form poetry.  The experience just keeps evolving as I go.

Writing takes discipline – especially when inspiration is nowhere to be found.  If I didn’t blog.  I wouldn’t write nearly as much.  It’s hard to say … I may have simply given up on writing, if there was no one to read what I wrote.

Sherry:  My own writing was drying up for lack of support, before I discovered blogging, so I really know what you mean. Having the encouragement of other poets means the world to me, and I have written more since I started blogging than in my whole life before. Do you have a favorite spot where you like to write? And what do you use? Pen? Laptop?  Where do you find inspiration?

Wendy:  I ruminate by pen and notepad.  I compose by laptop.  I have a little bound notebook that I jot ideas down in – but mostly, thoughts and even lines of poetry come to me when I am out walking alone or with Michael or when we go for long drives in the car.  I used to write these down.  But now, I usually just ask him to remember.  He has a memory most 20 year olds would envy – and I think he gets a kick out of astonishing me with his Amazing Kreskin-like recall.

Downtown Vancouver

Sunset

We go out and about on a lot of little jaunts.  We truly enjoy each other’s company and have relocated so often, we’ve become (as well as husband and wife) each other’s most enduring pal.  We chat, we stop for a snack (Vancouver has a plethora of wonderful little eateries and sometimes we have a picnic lunch), we people-watch, we look for inspiration. 

Picnic Basket

Sherry: I want to go on one of your picnics!

Wendy: Mike occasionally points out something that has caught his eye – I appreciate getting another perspective.  And I take pictures that I post on my blog.  I have taken a ton of shots all over the Lower Mainland and other parts of BC, as well as people pictures and still lifes.  Some of them, (like the one below), I turn into drawings with Picasa photo software.  Such a fun little hobby!

Scenes from Commercial Drive

Baby Steps

Sherry:  It all sounds wonderful! Lucky girl to have a husband who is a best pal. And I LOVE your art photos! Very cool. Do you have a favorite poet? What do you like about their work?

Wendy:  I love classic literature of all kinds.  Many of the classic poems, from poets that I grew up with, still move me.  When I read them, they are like revisiting an old friend – though some of them show wizened signs, it is a lovely patina that ages with grace and I regard these poems with great tenderness.

In terms of a current poet, I enjoy Mary Oliver.  Much of her poetry, I think, comes from the same place as mine.  She is a walker and an observer of the natural world and,I find, many of her words induce  introspection and contemplation.  

Sherry: Mary Oliver is my all time fave! I adore her work.

Wendy: For the same reasons, I enjoy your poetry, Sherry.  You are a wonderful naturalist poet. Not only are you brilliantly prolific in the genre - you are a voice, a herald and an advocate for all life.  I read a lot of poetry shared by fellow bloggers and I am a big fan of several of them.

Sherry:  What a wonderful compliment, to be even in the same conversation as Mary Oliver. Thank you, Wendy! Are there two poems of yours you would like to share here? Would you tell us a bit about each one?

Wendy:  It’s so hard to pick just two – I’ve written several hundred.  But I’m going to go with a light one – that I think many poets will identify with.   

No Poem Today

Today, it seems that I am held
in the grip 
of a Vanishing Poetry Spell.

The words are there, and then, I swear,
they vanish - poof - into thin air:
scattered sparks on lusty breeze
snuffed by a gusty squall brain freeze.

Fired, but:
stuck in the mire -
blank . . .
though, strangely, still inspired.
(if only words were not required.)

If only wishing made it so
and summoned forth some smooth lingo . . .

But, no,
the words have flicked away.
And thus I write : No Poem Today.

Sherry: I am smiling. I especially enjoyed "if only words were not required", LOL.

Wendy: For my second choice, I am selecting the first poem I ever posted on a Poetry Forum (Jennifer had sent me a note, suggesting that I post it to Poetry Jam after she read it on my blog).

Hotel Vancouver

between the busy spaces

I was a tourist

in the twilight

when the quiet fell

transcendent as a prayer

and, I thought,

I should like to live there

for a bit

and sit staring

down into pansy faces

poking comical, buoyant nods 

from behind the closing evening curtain

or rest my head back

and look up at the spirit clouds

drifting in ghostly light ethereal

white streaks and scurries

across the abiding, deepening blue –

deeper, deeper – dusk

to darkest night time sky

and just 

let the astonishment fall

like a ragged breathy sigh:

like a mystery

that unfolds

between the busy spaces

Sherry:  Wow! This is exceedingly beautiful, my friend!  "Transcendent as a prayer" and the staring down into the pansy faces. I love it. Do you like to travel? Is there a wonderful trip you have made that you’d like to tell us about? 

Wendy:  Our family has always enjoyed hanging out together … and still do.

When the kids were little, we did a lot of camping (my children continue to camp – though I think my days of sleeping on a bed of dry leaves are over).

We do “chip in” and rent a cottage for all ten of us, every other year (in a different part of BC).  One way or another, I seem to manage to spend a few precious days at a lake, each summer.

Pinecrest Lake near Whistler, BC

And we are avid road trip fanatics.  We’ve driven across Canada at least 6 times, and through the States.  On a trip through the Dakotas, Wyoming and Montana to see the Badlands and caves we accidently stumbled into the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally - the largest biker event in the world – where we camped in a campground, with the guys from the gangs before heading off to Yellowstone Park, where we lost track of time, and narrowly avoided getting locked in.  (They were locking it down because of road work at night - what a ride to the park gates that was!)

Yellowstone Geyser

We’ve tented at Niagara Falls (in a torrential deluge), taken in Shakespeare at Stratford and, I have to believe, hit every waterpark between here and Wisconsin Dells.  Throw in a couple of theme parks and that’s  thousands and thousands of miles, and hours upon hours of negotiations over what kid gets what seat.

One of my dreams in life, was to visit London and Paris and one day, several years ago Michael blew me away with a surprise trip to those two cities.  What can I say?  Words can’t express the splendor of a trip like that – or gratitude for the lovely gesture of such a gift.

Wendy & Mike in Trafalgar Square

As is typical of the life we’ve lived – when we landed, we were still walking on air.  That state of exhilaration was to be put to the test.  Michael didn’t get another consulting contract for a year.  (As we discovered later, Canadian Corporations had quietly begun the steady move to relocate computer systems work to countries with much lower labour costs.)  That was a tough time.  Though, I’d do it all again – without a moment of hesitation.

 

Sherry: What a lovely husband you have. The trip of a lifetime. I am impressed at all the car trips you have made, too. To all the best scenery!  In closing, is there anything you’d like to say to Poets United?

Wendy:  Well, as shared with you via email, Sherry, the Adventures of Mike and Wendy is a prepare-for-crash-landing-yet-again roller-coaster of a story, to say the least.  If we got into all the shock-and-awe details of our wild ride (in all its rip-roaring glory) we might just have to move to Bedrock and change our last name to the “Bad Luck Schleprocks”.  We’ve had a ringside circus seat to many of the doom-dipped headlines of our day.  From governmental blind arrogance and ineptitude to corporate greed and chicanery, we’ve witnessed – and endured – the brunt of a lot of outrageous conduct.  And yet, we’ve had a pretty great life - and it certainly has been interesting.

I have come to believe that adversity impacts our conscious and unconscious psyche, profoundly.  Out of adversity, we can become angry and embittered.  Or, we can be imbued with a resolve and a sense of self-empowerment that shines a light upon us, which we probably never would have noticed, if days were forever filled with sunshine … though I don’t think that many of us make it through this world without periods of mental anguish.  Poetry is, for me, a sanctum in troubled times – and when life is good:  I revisit that lyrical state of mind, simply because it is lovely and evocative and reminds me that life is nuanced, mysterious – and seldom, a “done deal”.  There is pleasure and peace to be found all around us:  whether, a plain repast shared with a loved one or a warm bed – a certain level of creature comfort is a very good thing and should never be taken for granted.  Humor, of course, can be a great healer.  When pinned against the levels of absurdity that human foibles can attain, the day-to-day grind takes on a cozy comfort.  And, of course, there is great serenity, to be found, in quiet solitude.  My poetry is infused with these simple beliefs for … beyond everyday joys, such as these … everything else is, pretty much, icing on the cake.  The half empty glass – is always – half full.

As Mike said to me once:  Sure, things look pretty bleak … you might even say catastrophically bad … but hey – for a writer – this is great material!

Wendy and Mike Head Shot

Sherry: I agree with Mike. Speaking of which, I happened upon a poem of yours that echoes what we have been talking about here. Let's include it, shall we?

watermarks on white vellum

we'd shared a lot of smiles and sadness,
watching our envisioned story unfold,
careening off-script, scene...after scene...
the narrative refusing to stay put.

for it seemed, the spirit kismet,

was determined to liven up the plot 

and so threw out: most

of the picture-perfect parts,

the tidy bits, the ho-hums

and the dull-as-dishwater

predictable passages

and went, instead, for a series

of dramatic crescendos,

hyperboles, and roller coaster

hurry-up-and-wait analogies,

in blasts of capricious breezes and

freaking gusts of rollicking bluster and fuss

that rolled off the pages of our lives,

in phantom faint details and dazed specifics

but the essence: palpable –

choked with feeling … though,

so indefinable in words, as to be,

almost, unreal … but there, forever there …

ghosts from that time – revealed – like watermarks that

illumine and date, in patches, on white velum 

Sherry: How I love this poem - such a beautiful image, watermarks on white vellum. And a beautiful photo to accompany it. Your photos are truly wonderful, both the scenic, the family, and the Picasa drawings. And your upbeat philosophy is one that resonates with me deeply.

Wendy: Smiles.  Thank you for this, Sherry.

Sherry: Oh, wow, kiddo, thank you! I love the stories,  the humour,  the upbeat attitude. And your husband is right - you have enough material there for a fantastic memoir. Maybe two!! LOL.

I have the best job in the world! Wasn't this a fun visit, kids? Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!