By Tina Ollenburg (Network)
April is National Poetry Month! Within the WNBA, we have a number of amazing poets, and we wanted to shine a light on their work, as well as their experiences with writing and reading poetry.
Linda Vigen Phillips (Charlotte)
Linda is passionate about poetry and realistic fiction. She is the author of two novels, Crazy and Behind These Hands. You can find out more about her, as well as links to her poems, on her website.
Alexandra Goodwin (South Florida)
Born in Argentina, Alexandra writes in both English and Spanish. She is the author of two books of poems, a novel, and an interactive haiku coloring book. Learn more about her work at her website.
Andrea Panzeca (New Orleans)
Andrea is the author of two poetry chapbooks, Rusted Bells and Daisy Baskets and Weird…Joe Pesci, as well as the president of the New Orleans chapter. You can find her work and recordings at her website.
Gina Ferrara (New Orleans)
Gina is the author of several poetry collections, including Ethereal Avalanche and Amber Porch Light. Click here to read her poem, “Near the Bend,” published in Oyster River Pages.
Q: What first drew you to writing poetry?
Linda: My father and mother exchanged poems when he was stationed overseas for three years during WWII. I began to realize their mutual love and respect of poetry during grade school, when I had to find a poem to memorize. My father whipped out a pile of ragged and yellowed clippings from The Detroit Free Press, where Edgar Guest, known as The People’s Poet, published over 11,000 mostly upbeat and sentimental poems. I could still recite one for you if have time. It’s called “A Bird and a Bad Day,” and, yes, it encouraged me in many ways, not the least of which was to begin writing my own poems.
Gina: The earliest draw would have been my grandmother. I was young during the Vietnam war, and I had an uncle who was in the army. My grandmother insisted that I write letters to him. I would often spend summer days at her house, so every day she made me write a letter that would make him feel like he was in the same room. In her way, she was encouraging details and specificity, qualities that I believe are essential to poetry and certainly what I still strive to do in my poems. And like those letters, poetry is so much about the moment, a reflection of where we are at any given time and making a connection.
Andrea: Music was probably my first love, from deeply moving songs like “Souvenir de Porto Rico” and “Nights in White Satin” to silly songs and nonsense (the kind you’d find in Lewis Carroll). When I write, I feel most propelled by music and rhythm as I hop from thought to image, association to association. In poetry, all art forms coexist: music (sound), visual (image), drama (monologue), and even dance (moving through time and space). Before writing, I like to improvise movement and meditate, maybe to tap into these different modes. (I’m not sure exactly why — it’s just a ritual that gets my hand moving!) I liked ballet as a kid because I didn’t have to talk, and though I’ve pretty much overcome any reluctance to speak publicly, I really feel very free reading poetry aloud, sharing what are really very personal streams of my consciousness.
Alexandra: As a child I enjoyed playing with rhymes and creating metaphors. Then, because the education system does not really encourage the study of poetry, other literary forms took precedence, both in my reading preferences and writing genres. However, when writing prose, I realized that my style always touched on the poetic, and after writing my novel, I was drawn to poetry all over again. It felt like “coming home.”
Q: What would be your advice for aspiring poets?
Andrea: Read widely but also deeply. I don’t mean close-read every poem you come across. I mean surface-read poems by lots of people. You don’t have to “get it.” Just read, and if you like it, if a moment makes you go “huh,” read more by that poet. If you really like a poet, try to read all of their work. Definitely search for videos of poets you like reading their work. Follow poets on Twitter who share the work of others to find poems to read widely (for example, I heard about Eileen Myles through reading Maggie Nelson), and you’ll want to read their work as well.
Alexandra: Read, read, and read poetry. Fall in love with it again and again. Write every day. Allow the beauty and miracles of life to permeate your soul, then sit down and write about it.
Linda: I would tell them what I tell my students, both adults and children, in a workshop called “Writing from the Heart in Verse.” That is, pick the most emotionally charged subject on your brain and begin writing without a plan or format in mind. Just get it out without washing off any dirt. Of course, this is even more effective if you do a little brainstorming first by listing several possible ideas, then narrowing down to the one that won’t let go. Then zero in on that idea and brainstorm as many emotive words related to the subject as possible. It all boils down to capturing the passion, without which a poem will not live long.
Gina: A long time ago, a mentor of mine said that it was important to be able to write in form, so obviously this mentor thought that poets should be able to write sestinas and sonnets. And while I think form is important, to me what is even more essential is that poems hold as much honesty as they can possibly bear. Poets need to write what they know because doing this gives the work authenticity and momentum. Look for times when the ordinary can be transcendent and allow yourself to fall into the delightful rabbit hole that only language can provide.
Q: Do you think there is an ideal way to experience poetry? What would you suggest for readers interested in poetry but somewhat intimidated by it?
Alexandra: To me, the ideal way to experience poetry is with your heart, not your brain. You need to let the words, the rhythm, the musicality of the rhymes (if there are any), and the wonder of metaphors and other poetic devices, pour over your senses, and let it carry you to that realm where the soul finds itself at home. Readers interested in poetry but who are somewhat intimidated by it should approach poetry not from an intellectual standpoint but a spiritual one. I used to be intimidated by the lack of understanding, but once I surrendered to the need to internalize a poem intellectually and allowed myself to become aware of how the poem made me feel, I realized that was the only way to benefit from it.
Linda: I think everybody experiences poetry in a different way, and I think those who aren’t partial to it have probably not been treated to a positive understanding of a poem or poetry in general. I have a wonderful book called Poetry Speaks that came with three CDs of poets from Tennyson to Plath reading their own work. You can go online to experience many audio recordings as well, but I think that listening to poets read their work is one exciting way to jump into poetry. And live readings, such as the open Mic that Charlotte Readers Club sponsors is also another way to get your feet wet. I do think those who are intimidated — and granted, some poetry can be quite intimidating at first — would benefit from a workshop or class small enough to offer hands on experience. Watch out, though. It can be addictive once the genie is out of the bottle!
Gina: It’s always a good idea to go to readings, and for people who are reluctant to share their work, they can go to support others and to hear what’s being read. The poets who are reading will certainly appreciate the support. It will be interesting to see how poetry readings are affected by Covid-19. I know in my community, poetry readings are now virtual where people are sharing their work. And as we adjust to new ways of living with limited social interaction, poetry is something that’s vital. My hope is that the necessity for technology will make poetry easier to share.
Andrea: I think the reason so many feel intimidated is because the way poetry is widely taught is opposite of ideal: close-readings of poets deemed great by people who probably don’t look like us, asking us to decode the poem like it’s a puzzle to solve, and to ponder what the poet meant or was thinking rather than what it made us feel or think. I earned an MFA in nonfiction, not poetry, and I wonder if I’d done all that required reading in poetry if I’d be as burned out on poetry as I was in nonfiction after graduation. I think of the experience of reading poetry as akin to going to an art museum: you walk around, looking at everything, not reading every plaque but just glancing at each thing, and then you come across one thing that stops you. It makes you keep looking, or do a double-take if it didn’t hit you at first. You might not really know why you like it, but you spend some time with it to maybe find out or just to hold on to the feeling a little longer before you’re compelled into the next room.
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