A Snowy Evening Indeed, by Suzanne Macpherson
Mood~ poetic
Guess what- I got so caught up in my writing today I forgot it was the 17th. That makes me go HMMMM!!! But in that good way- the Swiftly Moving Inspiration way.
Things that fascinate me today ( I have a sort of kaleidoscope of fascinations) are my daughter’s new interest in poetry. I used to write poetry from third grade to about age 25 when children and life knocked the stuffings out of me—mostly in a good way.
I met the most famous poets alive at the time- Richard Hugo, David Wagoner, Robert Bly, Gary Snyder, even William Stafford. I was completely blessed to be in the midst of greatness during my early twenties. It had a profound effect on me.
Poetry is a gateway drug that leads to fiction. It also leads to the love of language and tight imagery if you really sink your teeth into it.
Then fiction will lead you back to poetry because as we all know Fiction eats you alive and spits you out like a hairball and then you crawl back to poetry to make you broth and tea and cinnamon toast and soothe your soul.
So here is an old poem about winter many of us read in school. It has always been one of my favorites.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! Suzanne
5 comments:
Fabulous post, Suzanne. I came into fiction through poetry as well -- passed the time in many an economics class in college composing. Loved the poem also and with the weather being so blustery it is perfect. Miles to go before I sleep. : - )
Maggie G
Very poetic, Suzanne! :)
I haven't dug into poetry much. I like how you describe that poetry "...also leads to the love of language and tight imagery..." What a wonderful tool to use when I write descriptions in my novels.
Thank you for the gift of that tool and for a post that does indeed soothe the soul!
Weather Report; Cait London in MO.
I've just driven cross country on a really windy could day, got back to icy temps, ice and snow. In southern MO, we have ice. Breaks down the power lines/trees, etc. It's windy here now, big time at 3:50a. about to start writing-time.
As for poetry, I like epic :)
I love that line "is a gateway drug that leads to fiction". ha! I always think poets are the most talented writers going--they've got the sensual imagery and that's what really gives you beautiful prose...(and I always loved that poem too!)
You picked the perfect poem for this time of year, Suzanne. I too was a student of poetry and wrote poetry all through junior high and high school. I lost it in college, but came back to it in my late twenties and early thirties. It wasn't until I started writing fiction again in my late forties that I also sought out poetry again. The language is what always captures me--making that perfect picture or metaphor with so few words. It is a true talent.
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