I really liked quoting in the PassionPoetry newsletter some of the posts in response to my "why write poetry" inquiry.  

I thought I'd throw another one out here, for anyone to answer who would like to respond:

Do you find writing poetry to be healing?  If so, how?  Give a specific example, if possible --

I have such a love/hate relationship with poetry. There is this snobby part of me that feels that anyone can write it, that is doesn't have to make sense as it is all interpretation, and even jibberish can pass for poetry.

 But then....

 When I sit down to write it, some of the most profound parts of my soul pour out on the page in a way I don't think I could have done in any other form of writing. That, in itself, is healing and reopens my eyes that poetry is indeed a gift to be given freely and relished recklessly.

MarneyM:

I really liked quoting in the PassionPoetry newsletter some of the posts in response to my "why write poetry" inquiry.  

I thought I'd throw another one out here, for anyone to answer who would like to respond:

Do you find writing poetry to be healing?  If so, how?  Give a specific example, if possible --

 

I hadn't really thought much about poetry  since my dramatic  teen years.Every crush was a soul yearning and so forth ...

Then I didn't do anything poetic  for  almost 2 decades. 

I began to write poetry in response to a creative  writing college  course assignment in the years after my husband's sudden death.

I wrote about our dashed  dreams, how I felt without him , and coming to grips with his manner of death.

 I also wrote  poetry  about my everyday activities  , taking pleasure in every moment   I'm still here .

I know it's healing power first hand.

APJO and I share a similar background to our most recent poetry years.

What began as pouring out angst ending in healing sore places in the heart.

For example, searching for a small slice of serenity in an emotional storm 4 years ago I wrote this:

The Reed

Alone
before this rising grief
bowed by sorrow
battered by pain
beaten
but not broken
survives
to rise again.

—Josie Ingle (c) November 2003

Outlaw , that reed really came to life when I read your poem.

An example  of my capturing of everyday moments  is in my  poem that  got 3rd place in  the Poetic  Idol contest.

It was about my father's  Sunday breakfasts while we were living with my  parents during the past few years.

Here is another poem with a snapshot of a dinner with my parents during those years ( I'm a serious foodie, and  I was also the main cook  during this time ):

It's strange!

...oh yeah, and she was wearing white !

I never understood  her wearing white to my dinners.I tended to make  colored sauces ...

Yes, I do find it healing, mainly because I'm often surprised when my instinct or intuition shows me a new way of feeling or thinking about something.  I'll give you an example gladly.

 Two years ago, my dad died of lung cancer.  After that, I found it difficult to even look at a cigarette, and anytime I saw someone smoking my heart ached for them.  That summer I went to a writing conference in Maine where we were given the prompt to ask someone a question.  This poem is what came to me then, and I can still remember my own surprise that I should be able to see smoking not only as an act of willful self-destruction but as an act of choice, connection, and warmth.  I should tell you that my dad was a lobsterman, and so smoking on the boat was a big part of his life.

 Thanks for a great topic!

Are you still smoking?

It’s a bit of warmth on the boat, Kate,

and a lodestone for me.

I know the day’s pattern this way,

like the shadow on a sun dial.

And it’s a compass needle

that points to a James Dean life.

And company, something to share.

Got a light? they say.

Yeah, right here in my pocket.

And a tiny lighthouse in the dark,

a red-eye that finds you.

And yeah, I’ve heard that

about nails in your coffin,

but how about a finger

that points towards a choice?

How about that spark

that says you’re alive?

Kate

Beautiful poem, Kate. How cool that you were able to ask a question and then answer from your father's point of view. I like that style. Maybe we would all find that we are more alike than we imagine if we would take a moment to think about things from someone else's point of view.

 Thank you so much, Heather!

I wonder if it might be fun for us to try to write a poem from the perspective of someone we don't like or don't understand.  For instance, in my own life, I could try to write a poem from the persepctive of a hunter, because it seems impossible for me to imagine taking pleasure from killing a creature.  And yet, I know that there must be things about hunting that are beautiful, inspiring, and engaging.

Would you like to try this and swap poems? 

 KS,

Just read your poetry post to Heather, and I'd love to try that point of view switch, too.   I'm thrilled to have another poet who is excited about the craft.

Bo 

Dear friends: To me poetry is healing and a prayer for peace. Poetry is light.

We bring light to the world with the written words. Each poem goes beyond the personal experience

to profound reflections on the state of being human!!! We struggle and share the struggle.

We have a commitment with this healing process again and again, verse after verse.

I look to poetry for answers, healing answers to my problems and the problems of human kind.

Observation and process. Poetry is a healing process among others things.

GRACIAS, from GOYA