Poetry as a Picture

I wrote this poem several hours before I left ACU.

One of the things that I have resolved to do while in Oxford is to write 3-4 poems a week. Anyone who has ever written poetry knows this is a daunting task; sometimes one poem can take several days (or, depending on the poet, even weeks). Poetry is something that has to be crafted carefully, so it's hard to create en masse.

Why did I make this resolution, then? Well, the reason is twofold: I thoroughly enjoy writing poetry, and I am a forgetful person. The first statement needs no explanation, but the second takes a little elaboration.

You see, I frequently utilize “memoirs” or “memorabilia” in my life to stay connected to the past. I like to live in the present; that means that I tend to get over my problems quickly and plan for the future badly. But this also means that I am absentminded, especially when it comes to specific memories.

 The memory tool I use could be called a catalyst; something that not only makes me remember, but puts me back in the moment. If you ever visit my room, you'll see evidence of this—I'm not messy, but my room clutters easily, because I don't like throwing away things. It feels like throwing away memories.

This manifests itself positively most of the time. My walls are covered in notes and newspaper clippings; you'll find the certificate I received when I won a poetry contest last fall, along with a copy of Time's coverage of Ebola. I have pictures; I have old books, old bottles, pendants. All of these, I use as a tangible catalyst for memory. When I'm holding my OYAN dog tag, I feel like I'm experiencing the 2013 Summer Workshop all over again.

What does this have to do with poetry? Well, good poetry functions as the best sort of catalyst; it is not only a catalyst, but it's also a vivid way to preserve a moment. Coleridge preserved his lurid opium dream in “Kubla Khan”; Wordsworth encapsulated basically every nature moment he ever had in deathless verses; Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote “terrible sonnets” from his darkest moments, poems that are still deeply moving today.

Thus, in my poems, I hope to capture specific moments from this journey to Oxford, to preserve them so that later in life, I can look back at them and remember everything afresh. The notebook that I bought for this endeavor is called “Odes,” since the majority of my work will be referencing specific places or people. (For instance, I plan on writing an ode to Samuel Taylor Coleridge after I visit his house. And the first poem in my book is my goodbye to ACU, entitled “An Ode To Abilene.”) In doing this, I hope to more vividly communicate my Oxfordian experiences to you.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but I disagree; poetry itself is a more holistic picture. It can not only describe, as a picture does, but it can help you experience, vicariously. Pictures can paint a vision, but poetry can do that and more; it can paint physical, emotional, and spiritual pictures.

Over the course of the next four months, I will, of course, be sharing many pictures with you. But be prepared: some of my pictures will be in verse.