I am currently in love with Patti Smith. More than I ever
have been. I started reading ‘M Train’: it is so beautifully written, so ethereal,
so solitary, sumptuous and satisfying I am savouring every single second by
reading at a snail’s pace. I don’t want to miss anything she says, or sees,
imagines.
I am fascinated by her perceptions, her connections, her approach
to art, the world, kindness, simplicity, and her humanity. She speaks of those
she loves, those she’s lost with such tenderness and loyalty that it almost
breaks my heart. She has lived such a life, in the kind of way that I will
never be able to. While there is envy there, I am grateful I can now visit with
her, through prose, poetry, music and be transported accordingly.
Patti Smith is a masterful artist. She is an
extraordinary woman with an exceptional intellect and heart. ‘M Train’ has
rekindled my need to approach my days with kind consideration, to ensure art is
part of all of them, whether I make it or intake it.
If you are looking for a good book, give ‘M Train’ a
try. I am smitten.
I am still working on a writing exercise that this book
has inspired. I hope to complete it shortly.
I maintain that music sustains me, it is my form of
prayer, how I measure time and place, music is oxygen, music is life and love
and longevity. It inspires me to write,
rocks my core, brings me to tears and raises me up to religious heights. For someone who can’t play an instrument and
his highly uncoordinated, I am a slave to every note, every pulsing beat,
taking each waltz to the edge of everywhere; music is everything. Music solves the sunset, muses the
moonlight. It’s hard to not wax poetic
about the most beautiful and unifying language on the planet.
I have attended a plethora of shows this year, discovered
new and exciting artists and value each experience for the energy and stimulus
I garnered.
Here’s a loose list of many of 2014’s musical highlights:
Matt Mays – NYE @ Casino NS w/ Carmen Townsend, Big Red Festival in PEI and at
The Shore Club in Hubbards, NS.
Blue Rodeo - Halifax Metro Center
Adam Baldwin CD release party with Sam Cash & The
Romantic Dogs - Seahorse Tavern
Wintersleep/USS/The Trews – The Marquee
Matt Epp – The Carleton
Royal Wood – St Matthew’s Church
City and Colour – Halifax Metro Center
The Stanfields (acoustic) – The Carleton
July Talk – Alderney Landing for Canada Day, Big Red
Festival in PEI
Sam Roberts – Alderney Landing for Canada Day
Ben Caplan, Alderney Landing for Canada Day
Drive By Truckers – Big Red Festival in PEI
Platinum Blonde – Casino NS
Brian Byrne – The Carleton
Gloryhound CD release w/ The Motorleague – Seahorse Tavern
Dave Marsh & True Love Rules, The Navy Brats – Jacob’s
Lounge & The Carleton for HUFF
The Killers – Big Red Festival in PEI
Nashville Pussy w/ Fifth on the Floor – Seahorse Tavern
Dropkick Murphys – Cunard Center
Ashley MacIsaac – The Carleton
Dylan Guthro & Mo Kenney – Casino NS
Dwight Twilley (soundcheck) – The Carleton for HUFF w/ an
honourable mentionable hug from Garland Jeffreys
Adam Cohen – The Carleton
My list is missing bits and bobs I am sure, things like remarkable
Saturday nights at The Carleton with The Carletones etc etc but what I really
want to discuss is the last entry on my list, Adam Cohen.
For those of you born under a rock, Adam Cohen is the
song of Leonard Cohen but stands beautifully on his own two feet as a
singer/songwriter/performer. While he
acutely resembles his father and has the same awe-inspiring voice, his songs
are all his own. It’s true, there is
homage present to the music he was born into but there is a definite tone of
originality and songs that express what he so deeply wishes to share with his
audience.
I’m not sure I have attended a show at The Carleton with
such palpable energy, a loving energy that boasted a sheer veil of faith and
hope, creativity and grace. Adam took
the stage with his outstanding band and straight out of the gate, just from the
ambiance of humanity circulating through the room, from person to person, a
tiny and constant tear streamed from my left eye. I tried very hard to stop it but an
overwhelming wash of emotion was too powerful to defeat.
His stories of his family and his father, his sweet sense
of humour and his songs made for a beautiful evening. He speaks like a poet, performs like a rock
star and accepts his accolades with a humble heart. When he played a new song from his new record
called ‘Love Is’ he had the whole bar singing it with him and those as you know
are moments I live for; harmony among humans, unity in one voice. It fills me up and it pours out of my silly
face. He continued to overthrow my heart
when he finished with Dad Cohen’s ‘So Long Marianne’. If I was permitted and it wouldn’t made me
look like a complete wiener I’d have let the tears come like Niagara Falls. It was really hard to sing along without my
eyes bursting and then my concert company would have clocked me for
crying. Thankfully her back was to me
for the duration of the show. I was singing
‘Now so long Marianne, it’s time that we began to laugh and cry and cry and
laugh about it all again …’ but not at the top of my lungs like I wanted
because it would have come out in sobs.
This is how I know that the time he shared with his last night will
resonate for a long time to come. After
the encore I made a mad dash for a mascara check and to catch my breath.
I had the opportunity to shake his hand, compliment his
artist and offer my gratitude for making my Saturday perfect. He spoke very highly about his father’s
command of the English language and his elegance. I told Adam Cohen I loved the words he spoke
about Leonard but they truly mirror back at him in his own right. His handshake was firm and warm and
appreciative. It was an honour to look a
Poet in the eye and speak about words and music and for it to have
meaning. It was a small but mighty exchange
but I can’t tell you what it meant to me.
For me, Adam Cohen, who sold out every single seat for
three nights straight, was the BEST show I’ve seen to date at The
Carleton. It runs dangerously close to
every Matt Epp show I’ve seen there because his shows and music and artistic
intention moves me in the very same way.
I am compelled to spend today writing, musing, thinking
creatively, counting blessings and filling my ears with beautiful music.
I survived a long arduous week of work. Even though it was only a four day week since
today is Good Friday, it felt more like six or maybe even eternity for it to
come to a close. I was grateful because
there were rewards at the end of the stressful run of 9 to 5, there was a
delicious glass of red waiting for me and my friends from the Open Heart
Forgery gang.
April is national poetry month so for the launch of OHF’s
April issue, we gathered at City Hall for a reading and celebration of
words. I zero time throughout the day to
practice reading aloud which I often like to do so when I stand up to speak I
don’t stammer or sound like an idiot.
Public speaking has never come easily for me when I am before a crowd of
people about orate my art, the stuff that comes from deeply personal corners of
my person. However, the more I stand and
read, the easier it gets and the more confident I become. Listening to others and soaking up their
words, the ones they take great care to string together, that helps too. It’s a sense of unity that you can only
experience by participating. It has been
an important creative building block for me and I wouldn’t have that without
ever becoming part of the OHF family.
I submitted a poem for the April issue and was pleased
that it was included. Donal Power, the
brains and heart behind Open Heart Forgery has had to move on to the big city
of Toronto for employment with his family to soon follow. I missed the last Left Bank reading he
attended so I wanted to say something publicly to acknowledge the impact his
vision and founding of OHF has had on me.
Had it not been for seeing the little blurb in The Coast about
submitting, I wouldn’t have this blog, be able to read in public nor would I
have been so prolific in the volume of writing I’ve done and finished. I owe him a debt of gratitude that I’m not
entirely sure he’ll ever understand and I am certain many others feel the same
way. To thank him properly, and Rowena,
because she was instrumental in helping me overcome my fears to stand in front
of others to read, I wrote this poem and it was published in the April issue.
Let Yourself Be
(for Donal and Rowena)
let yourself be surprised by
whispering angels pining
under a gigantic full moon
while the Heavens shimmer
in poems and novels
in stories and essays
let yourself be amazed by
the choir of honeyed voices
peacefully lamenting affection
while every star in the sky shines
for paintings and drawings
for sculptures and architecture
let yourself be elevated by
the kindness of poet hearts
be heard by magical ears and
stand in the rays of contentment
let yourself be honoured
let yourself go and be free
just let yourself be
**
This is precisely how I feel, about Open Heart Forgery,
about the those who congregate, and about the influence Donal and Rowena have
had on my creative life and my person as a whole. They are kind-hearted and passionate, they
are creative and caring, and they are co-conspirators. They have made a difference for so many
voices who longed to be heard, who are talented and just as passionate about
writing and poetry and words. Together,
in me, they fostered a confidence that I hadn’t otherwise figured out how to
tap into. So, if two people are
deserving of a public display of poetry, it is them.
The City Hall gathering was wonderful. In a stately room, with our Mayor, we came
together for poetry and for our passion.
David Pretty, one of the several good humans I have had the fine pleasure
of meeting, started the evening off with an incredibly moving diatribe about
OHF and Donal and what it all means for he and the rest of us alike. The piece of writing he shared aloud, knocked
my little prepared speech out of my head because he said all the things I
couldn’t have so eloquently. When my
name was called to read, I intended to be poised and own the room but instead,
when I got up there and looked out to see David and then Rowena looking back at
me, I choked up and succumbed to emotion.
All of the beautiful things David talked about hit home and it struck
me, just how heavily Heaven was. That I
had come so far in my creative pursuits, advanced as an artist and was so lucky
to look out and see that I wasn’t alone.
Choking through tears of pride and perhaps a few for sadness knowing
that last night would likely be the last time to see Rowena before she is to go
to Toronto to live with Donal, I prefaced the reading of the poem from the
April issue by saying that in short, because of them, I learned how to trust my
artist and come and stand among them, instead of straying off to the sidelines
as a lonely and scared observer. That,
more than anything, is what they gave me when I walked into Open Heart
Forgery. A little kindness and faith can
go a long way. That, to me, is a
powerful thing.
Open Heart Forgery at City Hall, a special night.
The best thing that ever happened to me was having my
heart broken by a stupid boy. I suppose
I owe him a bit of thanks too because so much of that poetry is what propelled
me to submit the first time. And so much
of that poetry has been read aloud and exorcised and was the catalyst for a
great many conversations about the writing process and what drives us
emotionally as writers. His brief appearance
in my story was for one reason only, for me to grow, so that I could become a
better writer, a better person, a confident woman and a happier one. My first love is and always will be
writing. Open Heart Forgery taught me
that. And, when the real fortunate son comes along and is willing to drop anchor and
stay to compliment my full and crazy life and I his, I will have more words to
write, to read and I’ll do so with self-reliance, gratitude and passion.
I am proud to be part of Open Heart Forgery and am
pleased to know that there are like-minded people, goodhearted people who want
to carry on Donal’s work. I will do my
part, what I can to see that it happens.
We will write on, we will succeed.
It's a perfect Sunday. It started with a delicious birthday brunch with my dear friend Sherrie. We are both December babies so we decided this year to do a brunch together to celebrate being alive and the comforts of friendship over a decadent meal. We dined at The Vines in Dartmouth, most noted for their Italian fare but also for their Sunday brunch. The atmosphere was cozy and food was fabulous. We talked over coffee, laughed while enjoying the ambrosia of culinary delights and posed thankful over a sinful bit of dessert. We exchanged gifts and gratitude. So lovely. My friends truly are my estate.
It is also a perfect Sunday because it is a rare day to be at home alone. I busied myself with a few domestic tasks and now I am parked next to a sunny window, with a cool breeze sneaking in. The air around me is full of the sweet sounds of Matt Epp's voice and the fragrance of tea, Santa's Secret from David's Tea, one of the few teas Erica gave to me for my birthday. And of course, with all of these beautiful elements, I finished editing my latest poetry offering, 'Cup Of Light'. I also started working on another new piece. You can't hope for better than days like today.
Cup of Light
when a word is beautiful
written on a piece of paper
folded up inside of a book
effervescent fonts surge in
a gentle stream of grace
from the protective pages
when discovered
& is approximate to a
cup of immaculate light
scribes leave tiny traces
words laid down safely
& some expire without ever
being passionately admired
when a word is bountiful
shrouded in the pall of privacy
secretly stashed away in shelves
full of soldier straight volumes
it longs for unbridled sovereignty
to respire
to delineate
to irradiate
a cup of magnificent illumination
one perfect word
one impeccable light
**
I will spend the rest of my afternoon working in something new, working away at a mountain of laundry I've been ignoring. And perhaps a little bit of TV for company while I put the finishing touches on the Christmas tree. It was decorated yesterday afternoon but still needs the icicles. I have some catching up to do on my favorite shows so it's a possible plan but not before poetry! Writing comes first.
Wherever your weekend took you, I hope you were among friends and you were smiling.
Nothing pressing today, just a poem. Gearing up for a quiet weekend out of town. I look forward to a change of scenery, a little shopping, exploring, writing and relaxing.
Also, a happy thanksgiving weekend to my American friends. Be grateful.
‘Poetry is at least elegance and at most a revelation.’ ~
Robert Fitzgerald
Poetry is an alternative form of communication. It’s another way of getting the drama out and
onto the page, it’s another way to paint a picture or perhaps to tell someone
how you feel about them when actions fail.
Poetry allows you to forge your feelings into tangible, durable products
of art. It challenges you to consider
simple things and shape them into verses of figurative language. Writing poetry requires generosity and
patience on the part of the Poet and in honour of the Muse not written from ego or a pretentious perspective.
There will always be readers who won’t understand the
intentions embedded in your writing but that’s the beauty of poetry. Open to personal interpretation, everyone takes
something different from the words based on their perception and taste. As a writer, it also leaves you a little
breathing room, a little bit of anonymity and personal space. The piece of work becomes an extension of
you, of the subject and when shared becomes something entirely different to the
hearts and minds of the reader. There is
also the chance to veil specific meanings and your audience be none the
wiser. Ah, the power of words.
Today’s offering is a poem called ‘Paean’. And, so you don’t have to dig out ‘The Good
Book’ again, paean is an expression of praise and exultation often in the form
of a lyrical poem or song to convey triumph or thanksgiving.
Paean
and that’s how it happened
the occasion of piecing together
the thanksgiving hymn
the paean
eulogistic oration
choral invocation
extolling an en endless
poetic compliment
encomium
for someone who knows how to
accept the shade without losing
an ounce of unfettered light
it is an easy task to
calculate the formula of adulation
pen a song of triumph
pose panegyric
for someone stout of heart
and even then
a melodic ode
is a lean accolade
the paean
keenly describes
with affirming messages
your incalculable sustenance
all of which
lessens the bedlam
in my lonely heart
and
eases the tumult
of longing
This was my thanksgiving hymn for someone who lit up my life for a brief spell. Written when I would have been too shy to share and the time for revealing the sentiment is long gone. Words remain. Ever grateful to beautiful souls who inspire verse.
