Poetry Pals - Week 8 - tonic poems

3 for the price of 1, two light and one on the darker side. Writing to a prompt. Tonic poems to lift and raise the spirit. (Or not)

Hello all,

This weeks poetry promt from

Poetry Pals

was set by Jo Flynn. She directed us to David Wagoner’s Lost, found here and after a quick dissection of it called on us to write our own.

Our prompt is to write our own tonic-poem in this direct, instructional but calming way, if we can!

…we’re going to start with an instruction … Try to keep it as short and straightforward as possible.

Next we’re going to describe what’s around us … as if you are here for the first time - what would strike you most about your surroundings? How might they be perceiving your manner? You might want to use your senses to help with this.

Keep using that direct address, ‘you’ throughout your poem. Repeat your opening instruction again at the end.

Did it work, did you follow your own advice?

I have to admit to initially finding the poem not of my taste, it took a while to sink into it. I found the instructions very reminiscent of the poetry lessons we had at Uni in our ‘Writing, Stories, and Myths’ course. And my old PDA (pathological demand avoidance, or persistent drive for autonomy) kicked in and I really didn’t want to do it. I don’t like being told exactly how to write. In fact I made a name for myself in my lessons for doing the task as asked but also doing an extra one the way I wanted. And my tutors were great, although I didn’t appreciate it at the time, and accepted my rebellion graciously.

In some ways being given precise instructions on how to write is useful, to follow a strict structure a comforting framework upon which to hang your work. For me this often makes the words seem false, it’s merely an exercise, a task to be completed. Like just replacing one word with another rather than making a poem from scratch. I can do it, but I don’t often like the end result. It feels like manipulating the words to fit a form rather than finding the best form for the words. I do realise it’s not that simple. I expect it’s all very scholarly and something a really good poet does daily, easily, and loves doing it. I tend to head towards the opposite. If I twist the task, do something different, then I feel I have accomplished something.

I deliberately didn’t look at Jo Flynn’s own take on the task, written beforehand and so quite different. Found here scroll to page 26. I’m quite pleased I didn’t because I feel it would have given me too much free rein to say ‘stuff it, I’ll it my way anyway.’ It’s quite different to me though I do see the thematic similarities. So despite my protestations about too strict a structure I decided to stick with it. I think it’s normal for me with my Autism to take a task quite often far too literally, I need to mull and really work to see things from a different perspective, the old black and white thinking. So I think I got it a bit wrong initially.

But I did it, I stuck to my first impression of the task and I did it. I’d already decided to twist the task as well. Do two poems, one as asked and one as opposite. Once I’d worked out my instructions for the first line, I was set.

The first one is the tonic-poem one. One that is meant to help you calm and reconnect when a bit overwhelmed. (Slightly annoyed that the formatting on the chemical symbols didn’t come through and I’m not sure how to do that in Substack.)

Photo by Robina Weermeijer on Unsplash

Breathe 
Breathe. The fierce wind, the gentle breeze, the air you
need, are waiting. To give you Life. 
Use them. Their molecules life giving and wonderful. 
Breathe in the oxygen; the nitrogen; the secret, hidden gases
of neon; argon; hydrogen; and others. Accept the gift. 
The atomic bonds binding you firmly to this Life. The
chemical exchange bodily within enhancing muscles, 
blood, brain. 78% N2, 21% O2, 1% Ar, the rest are
trace. Breathe out carbon dioxide to feed the trees and plants.
Take the gift. Take back your Life. Breathe. 
You do not need to wait, air comes unbidden. 
Breathe deeply and live. For us. 
                                                           March 2024
				

Now enough of the saccharin. I’ve written a lot of ‘nice’ poetry recently and my dark side is yearning, nay clawing at me, to come out. Still following the rules, still replicating the structure.

Photo by Peter Forster on Unsplash

Fear
Fear me! Your stone walls and tiled roof will not 
Keep you safe. You will learn to be always afraid. 
To tremble and quake. Dread will be your constant companion.
All is lost. Be petrified: terror stalks you. It is alive
and seeks you. Hide well. It will find you and haunt you. Be afraid.
You will despair at the persistence of your deliverance.
Fear me. I will break you and rejoice in your demise. 
There are no second chances, you will pay.
There will be no reprieve from the horror. 
You will break wholly and completely. 
You will shatter and be gone. Fear me. 

---

It’s really not very calming, so I missed that part of the brief. But, oh I loved writing it! Welcome back dark side.

So anyway, I felt a bit bad after finally reading Jo’s poem, for probably overthinking the whole task, and taking her instructions far too literally. So I tried again. A poem to calm me down. To ground a person. I suppose it is rather a good prompt really as it’s gotten 3 poems out of me and it’s actually only Monday when I’m writing this.

Photo by Valentina Aleksandrovna on Unsplash

Linger
Just breathe. Slowly, steadily. Breathe.
The world is still turning 
The sun is still rising, 
The wind still blowing.
Breathe.
Breathe in. Breathe out. 

Let your eyes slowly close, eyelashes gently meshing. 
Breathe.
Breathe in. Breathe out. 
Lift your head, relax into the light.
Feel the sun warming your cheeks. Let it linger. Let it caress you. 
Breathe.
Breathe in, breathe out. 

Feel the breeze tease your hair, ruffling curls.
Breathe.
Breathe in. Breathe out. 
Catch the scent of newly opened cherry blossom. 
The fragrance pink and sweet. Let it linger. Drink it deep.
Breathe.
Breathe in. Breathe out. 

Listen. Listen carefully, to the small sounds, the tiny echoes.
Breathe.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Be a hawk in a sensorial world. 
Focused, precise, aware. Linger there.
Breathe.
Breathe in, Breathe out. 

Hear a mouse scuttling, a leaf rustling, a bird singing,
A chicken scratting, a red kite whistling. Linger there. 
Breathe.
Breathe in. Breathe out. 
Watch, listen, feel, breathe, linger.
Just be. Gently be. Breathe. Linger.
This is enough. 
Breathe. 
Breathe.
Breathe.
               March 2024

Phew. Well, what a productive few days. Add to that a marvellous Zoom meeting with a good few of us last night reading out loud poetry (not me, I don’t read out loud - I just listen) this week has been rather poetry filled. Amazing! I even got to talk to my son about poetry (24 years old son) and he said mine was ‘fine’, which is better than ‘bad’. 😂 Got to take the wins when you can!

Till next week adious. Please like this post, share, and leave a message I’d love to hear what you think.