THE ISOLATION JOURNALS - DAY 17 - A PANDEMIC POEM
Today’s prompt:
Creativity is a field so vast and open that sometimes I freeze up (Deer. Headlights.). What can I write about? Anything? I do not wish for an infinite number of choices. It may sound counter-intuitive but sometimes I find creative freedom by venturing into the tightest spaces. I am by no means a poet, but I like to write poetry that's incredibly formal and restrictive. When I have to focus on counting syllables and cycling through a small number of words, it's almost as if I'm looking in the other direction and great ideas can walk right up to me.
Start with a simple haiku and see how it feels. Take a while to practice. If you like it, try a sonnet. There are lots of different kinds of sonnets to choose from. Try out a few and see what fits. My favorite form is a sestina. It's ridiculously complicated and fun.
Pick out a poetic form and give it a try.
A Pandemic Poem
Going as far back as I can remember, I’ve loved sending mail. Hand-written letters on creamy bond stationery. Typed missives on whisper-thin aerogrammes. Heartfelt notes jotted on Hallmark cards for birthdays and anniversaries, births and deaths.
Every December, I mail holiday cards to friends and family. Recently, I started including a holiday poem – my version of the traditional Christmas letter. The first year, it was four haikus, one about each member of my immediate family. Last year, it was a modern re-telling of A Visit from St. Nicholas (better known as The Night Before Christmas).
Two years ago, the year my brother died, I wrote a villanelle, a fixed-form poem consisting of five tercets and a quatrain. Like the creator of today’s prompt (Ann Patchett, one of my favorite authors), I take surprising pleasure in writing poetry that’s formal and restrictive. It’s like constructing a puzzle – or perhaps solving one.
The poem below is an adaptation of that holiday villanelle from two years ago, heavily modified for our current circumstances.
Notes from Our Town (Revisited)
(with apologies to Thornton Wilder)
Does anyone realize life while they live it?
The saints and the poets, maybe --
Find meaning each day and each minute.
This new villanelle – dare I scarcely begin it?
Ev’rything now is so hazy.
Does anyone realize life while they live it?
The bars are all closed, can you even believe it?
Lines at Whole Foods are just crazy.
Find meaning each day and each minute.
With stay-at-home rules, we are pushed to the limit.
Weekends, they used to be lazy.
Does anyone realize life while they live it?
We can’t touch or reach out. It’s hard to conceive it.
Contact is no longer easy.
Find meaning each day and each minute.
And yet as we age, let’s remember the spirit,
Rare moments that filled us with glee.
Does anyone realize life while they live it?
I hope you find meaning each day and each minute.