I Wish I'd Written This

After Reading a Certain Poetry Magazine

You know how it is when you read good stuff...
poetry that blows in like a late cool on a stinking day,
all its words and silences exact and uncompromising;
and it wraps relief around your burning eyes, mends
your torn morning and picks up the shit from the driveway...
You know, I know you do,
and you think I’ll never write again,
myself, cos I can’t do that...

But in the back of your head
a line is limping along,
a couple of them, crying a bit,
and elbowing in the queue,
pressing forward to be noticed,
sore, hard done by.
And your fingers flex and fret for a keyboard.

Copyright © Linda Stevenson 2018

I've featured my long-time friend Linda here before, some years ago (at this link). At that stage I and others hoped she'd start a blog and join PU.

Having given it a go for a while, she realised she's not a blogger, preferring to post things briefly on facebook and then submit to literary magazines both on and offline – who often publish her. I keep an eye on her fb posts of course, love a lot of her stuff, and responded especially to this one. I think I hardly need to tell a readership of poets why!

Linda does spoken-word readings as often as she can, and this photo catches her mid-performance. She is also an activist – as much as she can be now, in her crone years, and rather more than most. Social and environmental issues form the subject matter of many of her poems. 

Ken Smeaton, whom I featured a couple of weeks ago, is our mutual friend. The photo I used in that post was taken at Linda's home.

Linda was once Melbourne City Librarian (which meant she was in charge of several municipal libraries based around the inner suburbs). When the Poets Union of Australia formed (in the late seventies) Linda offered us a meeting place at North Melbourne Library.

It was in that heady era of 'taking poetry off the page' that we both met Ken. It was a long time ago now, but a number of those poetic friendships have lasted.

Back in those days, although she always wrote, she was too busy helping other poets to publicise her own work. (I was one of the recipients of her generosity. She supported and encouraged me in many ways.) I'm glad she is finally putting her own poetry out there and gaining a following.

************

Speaking of Ken Smeaton, I was horrified to discover I had inadvertently left out half his featured poem in the February 15 post! I have rectified the matter, but I think too late for many of you to see it. So here is the full poem again, now:

The Poem

Welcome to the last, great
non-commercial art form.

Remarked, unsung,
oxygen, in the swamp of images.

Gaze on these words, reckon

how deep you can go into my dream.

Immerse in my clear stream,

nourish the meadows of your attention.

Listen to my water song

and drink deeply.

Escape in me to other worlds, where I whisper

silk across your skin, drip plum juice off your chin.

If you are uncomfortable here,

let me walk with you, I will be your guide.

The way to read a poem is often.

Walk with me often to the end

where I will leave you,
your heart full, my burden eased.

– Ken Smeaton 
from Love Poet Live (Melbourne, Eaglemont Press, 2001.)

Material shared in 'I Wish I'd Written This' is presented for study and review. Poems, photos and other writings remain the property of the copyright owners, usually their authors.

I Wish I'd Written This

Clovers

By Linda Stevenson

Setting aside a mask, or several


she plays, as when a child


pressing against


the beaten bronzed air


stroking the shiny surfaces of afternoons


as they drift;

finds and picks out from faded grass


or from between the leaves


of now shelved books


the different gifts


for the ones she loves, kneels

and hands up to them, with no words


their four-leafed presentations.


Linda Stevenson is one of my oldest and dearest friends. We sat next to each other in Library School (Melbourne) when we were young women, though we spent the first few weeks talking to the students either side of us in the brief breaks between listening to lectures. Once we did start talking to each other, though ... well, it's been a lifelong habit ever since, though now we live in different parts of the country and mostly do it on facebook. Poetry didn't bring us together, but as we were both writing it, it soon became a bond. We have collaborated on various projects over the years, in support of other people's poetry as well as each other's. There was a time when our library careers merged briefly and she was my boss – but it is now decades since both of us left that career for more artistic pursuits.

So there's my interest declared! However I'm sure you will have no trouble believing that I like the poem for its own sake, regardless of who wrote it. I wanted to use it now, in the lead-up to Christmas, because it describes gift-giving – and because this is as close as I can get to Christmas, being the last 'I Wish I'd Written This' until the new year. (You'll have a 'Living Dead' post next Friday.)

Linda still lives in Melbourne, and describes herself as 'having a background of environmental interests and community service'. She is a painter as well as a poet, whose work has been exhibited in local venues. She once ran a printing studio using a special technique to create art prints, and gave classes. I asked her to share one of her paintings with us (see below). 

This is how she tells it: 


I've always written poetry, but sporadically.  Always read and appreciated poetry.  Don't consider myself a "poet" because I haven't dedicated the time and effort necessary.  I respect and admire the work of my true poet friends, colleagues and acquaintances who have that commitment.

Now in the latter phase of life, I have also become a painter, and am working to integrate my visual art work with my writing. The painting here is inspired by C.P. Cafavy's great iconic poem "Ithaca". I paint as I feel, with images, symbols and references to create a work which has meaning. There are analogies with writing a poem...inspiration and energy, followed by analysis, crafting, deleting, adding and refining to achieve a worthwhile end.

Last year, I commenced hosting private Salons at my home in Frankston.  Salons in 2014 featured recent paintings by local artists and readings by local poets. More are planned for next year, with music performances to be added to the mix. The keynotes of the Salon are "Creativity. Conviviality, and Compassion". People who have attended so far loved the poetry readings in my studio; it was an opportunity for intimate poetry performances to be integrated with visual artworks, and for some new poetry fans to be enthused.

(Poets United recently featured Cavafy's poem in 'The Living Dead' – if you'd like to re-acquaint yourself with Linda's inspiration.)

Linda does plan to create a blog to share her work, but at present you can only find it on facebook. In view of that, and as 'Clovers' is a shortish piece, I'll treat you to another – with a rather different message. 

I remember Joan Baez saying that 'What Have They Done to the Rain' (by Malvina Reynolds) was the gentlest protest song she knew. I expect you are familiar with it, but if not, it's an environmental protest. Baez added that the message was not gentle, but the song sounded gentle.  The following poem of Linda's is one of the gentlest environmental protest poems I know. That is, it sounds gentle and conjures up some gentle images (among others) but the message is heart-rending.  The background story is here.  

At a time of year when many of us are focused on thoughts of love, these are, in different ways, two loving poems.

Adani Coal Mine Approved

It pares down

to the palest of skies

to a native fledgling

thirsty, untended

to whether a black stinking

mess of outmoded greed

is claimed as our chosen soil

when we might have lifted

up into the quiet transparency

taking the winds

undisturbed

carrying the young bird

with us

as our token.

Poems and photos used in ‘I Wish I’d Written This’ remain the property of the copyright holders (usually their authors).