For National Poetry Month 2014, I have invited 17 authors and poets to guest post about source poems. In this series of essays, each writer will describe a single poem's significance in his or her life.
Today, guest blogger Shirley Brewer invites us to join her in finding a poetic voice.
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| Shirley Brewer |
I came late to
poetry.
Granted, I
considered myself a writer at age seven (fairy tales), wrote some poems in high
school and college (Viet Nam, teenage angst), and used poetry with children in
my work as a speech and language therapist in the Anne Arundel County Public
Schools (Maryland).
Poetry became
real to me on Christmas Day, 1996. I was visiting friends in Santa Cruz,
California, and walked to the beach that morning with a notebook and pen.
When I returned,
my friends asked me to read aloud what I had written. They pronounced me a poet and I agreed. I took two poetry
classes at Anne Arundel Community College in 1997 that fueled my journey. Over
these past seventeen years, I often included travel as part of my poetry
studies, participating in workshops in various states, as well as in Italy and
Ireland.
Ireland! In
1998, I spent two weeks in Dublin immersing myself in poetry under the guidance
of Irish poets. Our guest for one session was Eavan Boland, who remains my
favorite poet. That evening, she joined us at The Teacher’s Club, where she sat
next to me and bought everyone at our table a drink. What a thrill!
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| Eavan Boland and students. Photo: Shirley Brewer |
The first book
of Eavan Boland’s I purchased was In aTime of Violence, in which she explores the social and political realities
of her Ireland. Her collection begins with “The Singers.” Here it is – 16
lines:
The Singers
By Eavan Boland
The women who
were singers in the West
lived on an
unforgiving coast.
I want to ask
was there ever one
moment when all
of it relented--
when rain and
ocean and their own
sense of home
were revealed to them
as one and the
same?
After which
every day was
still shaped by weather,
but every night
their mouths filled with
Atlantic storms
and clouded-over stars
and exhausted
birds?
And only
when the danger
was plain in the
music could you know
their true
measure of rejoicing in
finding a voice
where they found a vision.
[This poem is published online at Stanford Magazine and Project MUSE.]
I connected with
this poem in a completely visceral way. Every time I read it, I feel myself
inside the poem. And I believe this poem has guided my own poetic path.
In the years I
studied poetry what mattered most to me was discovering my “voice.” How would I
find it? I read poetry voraciously. I still do–every day! One could become
dizzy with all the voices! I began attending Peter Murphy’s annual Poetry andProse Getaways in Cape May. Excellent teachers. I slowly began to develop more
confidence in myself as a writer. But did I have a voice?
To me, Eavan
Boland’s poem speaks of the poetic journey–“an unforgiving coast.” Not an
easy path. So much to learn, to read, to know, to weather. So much time not
knowing if one is a poet at all. The desire to discover one’s “own sense of
home.”
And always, it’s
about filling one’s own mouth with words and sounds… “every night their mouths
filled with Atlantic storms and clouded-over stars and exhausted birds.”
I often made the
connection that–for 32 years–I filled the mouths of children with sounds. With
my career change and early “retirement” in 2001, I realized it was time for me
to focus on self-fulfillment, as risky as it was–like the dangerous weather
of Boland’s poem. Time to follow my vision, to seek a more creative path. My
journey brought me to Baltimore City’s Charles Village, to the University of
Baltimore–where I earned my Master of Arts degree in Creative Writing/Publishing
Arts in 2005–and to the vibrant poetry community that exists in
Baltimore/Washington, DC/Annapolis and beyond.
I remember a
poetry event at Maryland Hall in Annapolis a number of years ago. There was an
intermission right after I read. I heard someone call out my name. It was the
wonderful Philadelphia poet, JC Todd, who had been one of my instructors at
Peter Murphy’s Getaway. She grabbed both my hands and exclaimed: Shirley Brewer, you have a voice! I’ll
never forget that moment. It felt like such a thrilling validation. No matter
what we surmise internally, it sure helps to receive external support. A moment
to rejoice!
To have a poem
inspire you early in your journey, and then serve as a companion all along the
way, is the greatest of gifts.
And only when
the danger
was plain in the
music could you know
their true
measure of rejoicing in
finding a voice
where they found a vision.
 |
| Eavan Boland from Poetry News in Review |
Shirley J. Brewer graduated from careers in bartending, palm-reading, and speech therapy. She has served as poet-in-residence at Carver Center for the Arts and Technology in Baltimore County. Shirley will present "Healing Through Writing" with novelist Tom Glenn at the MWA Conference on April 26, and is scheduled to teach a poetry workshop at LitMore (Baltimore) in May. Recent poems appear in The Cortland Review, Little Patuxent Review, Innisfree Poetry Journal, Pearl, Comstock Review, Passager, and other journals. Her poetry books include A Little Breast Music, 2008, Passager Books and After Words, 2013, Apprentice House/Loyola University.
Previous posts in this series:
Laura Shovan on "This Is Just to Say" by William Carlos Williams
Dylan Bargteil on "On Moral Leadership as a Political Dilemma" by June Jordan
J. C. Elkin on "Hannibal Clim" (author unknown)
Diane Mayr on a haiku by Basho
Jone MacCulloch on "We Are Waiting (a pantoum)" by Joyce Sidman
Mary Bargteil on Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot
Jacqueline Jules on "Mother to Son" by Langston Hughes
Pamela Murray Winters on "The Land of Counterpane" by Robert Louis Stevenson
Dennis Kirschbaum on "Rain" by Robert Louis Stevenson
Janet Fagal on "The Lake Isle of Innisfree" by William Butler Yeats
Janet Fagal on "The Lake Isle of Innisfree" by William Butler Yeats
Linda Baie on "The Way It Is" by William Stafford
Pat Valdata on "Sea Fever" by John Masefield
