Poet Jane Hirshfield said "... the feeling I have about poem-writing (is) that it is always an exploration, of discovering something I didn't already know.  Who I am shifts from moment to moment, year to year.  What I can perceive does as well.  A new poem peers into mystery, into whatever lies just beyond the edge of knowable ground."

I bring a different poem to the writing classes each week, not only to inspire but to introduce new poets to the group members.

St Bride’s by Agnes Walsh

One room, one position which is frontward.
What lies ahead is ocean, sky, snow and a flashing 
red light.  It is winter, it is north, bleak, cold, 
grey, white, bright.  All that.

What more it is is space.  The cape road ahead blocked.
In fact there is no road, summer is erased,
the birds gone, flowers asleep, like
when someone leaves you and takes love with them or
dumps it at your feet in a great cold sack.

It is awhile before the eyes adjust to nothing, 
to seeing how much is there.  It takes a trying on of 
patience, a wrestle with your indignant soul, 
nerve.

Try standing (if the wind backs off) 
a little at a time, only don’t move, let 
the time add up, let it
have its say.  I swear
this is the way to love
to regain the winter, the north,
the frozen earth on which you stand.

~ from Going Around with Bachelors (Brick Books, 2007)


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with the exception of 'poems of the week' where © copyright remains with the poets or their publishers