I am linking this old post to With Real Toads, where Kerry promises that the Real Toads crew will do thirty prompts in thirty days for National Poetry Month. I’ve written a poem a day in April for the last few years – and since the Toads prompt today is about what April means to a poet, I thought of linking this. The poem at least is short – apologies for the discursive beginning.
Today is the last day of this year’s National Poetry Month. As in the last couple of years, I’ve tried to write a new draft poem every day of the month. I hope that even the not-so-good ones have provided some fun for readers, even if that fun was at my expense!
One of the great things about an exercise like this (to my mind) is that it helps debunk the notion of the muse.
People/poets/writers/artists can get very attached to the idea of a muse–this shadowy presence that comes and goes and makes them feel special.
To me, a rather plodding sort of person, the muse is mainly a combination of attention and determination.
Attention to what is going on outside; attention, too, to all the little pokes and prods inside.
Then there’s the determination to take notes of what you’ve paid attention to, and, once you’ve taken the notes, to reshape them in the sometimes harsh (sometimes way too indiscriminate) light of your computer screen.
The advantage of an exercise like writing a poem a day is that you just can’t wait for the muse to come your way. You simply have to get down to attending and determining!
As my final homage to National Poetry Month 2012, I am re-posting my April 30 poem from 2011:
End of National Poetry Month Haiku
Some say that April is the
cruelest month. They must
be people who write poems.
Thanks so much for checking in!