GloPoWriMo

Poet Spotlight on: Sakshi Narula

Sakshi Narula is a poet, author and an artist from India who lives in Muscat, Oman. She is the author of four poetry collections and also a spoken word artist. Her words center around love, loss, healing, grief and femininity. Some of her poems have been featured in the Survival Anthology by Magesoul Publishing, From One Line Anthology, Book One by Kobayaashi Studios and in Yellow by Yellow Penguin NYC.

I have been reading Sakshi’s poetry for a couple of years now, and she is incredibly gifted. Her poetry is the kind you can find yourself immersed in for hours and not even notice the passing of time. It surpasses the standard of contemporary poetry and should be recognized for its unique and profound style.

Sakshi, your poetry book is unlike any I’ve seen before, and your poems are so refreshingly different from a lot of what we see on social media. Where do you get your inspiration? Have you ever been compared to any other poets? If so, who? If not, who are some of your favorite poets and why?

I have been through a lot of ups and downs like any other person. My writing is a reflection of the things that happened in my life in some form or another. Music and books have always been my steady companions and have inspired a lot of my work too. Yes, I have been compared to a lot of poets in certain reviews purely because I write love poetry and poetry that centers around loss and heartbreak. It would be really boastful of me to state their names so I am going to refrain from doing that, but it has been rather overwhelming and flattering. To answer your last question, my favorite poets are Ada Limon, Andrea Gibson, Sharon Olds, Pablo Neruda, Wendy Cope, Leonard Cohen, to name a few.

When did you begin writing poetry and what was the process like?

I started writing poetry seriously around five years ago. I used to be a blogger and used to ghost write articles before that. It was really surprising to me how organic the process of poetry writing was for me. It was like being in a second skin, like I was meant to do this. I always say poetry found me and helped me heal when I needed it the most. It almost always would start with a line and I would spend hours building and rebuilding a poem obsessively. There are days I would be surprised at how I even ended up writing something that I actually liked reading. In that sense, it has helped me realise that this is a gift, that it has the power to comfort another and I need to use that gift in the best possible way.

How important is revising to you and your writing? Which pieces end up needing the most revisions? Why?

It is extremely important. I think to add layers to your poems, you need to be meticulous with editing and revising. That is what separates a good poet from a great poet. For me, it is going through every line and every word to make sure it is essential to the poem as a whole. Most pieces that are long form and usually poems that I use for spoken word require the most revisions. There needs to be a flow, a rhythm, the ebbs and the flows, the crescendo in the end, a punch in the gut, a feeling that remains with the reader, that takes the most effort.

What subjects are absolutely off-limits to write about?

I don’t write about mental health. I did try, but it takes a lot out of me to write about my struggle with depression and anxiety. I don’t write about certain aspects of my life because it brings a lot of things to surface.

What is your favorite poem? (Of another poet’s? Of your own?)

My favorite poem by me is 41 , A Love Poem To Me. Of another poet… True Love by Sharon Olds, Maybe I Need You by Andrea Gibson

You ask fascinating questions on social media – ones that challenge your readers and fellow authors/poets to think outside of the box. How important do you think it is to think outside of the box as a poet? Do you ever use your fans’ answers as a jumping off point for a poem? If so, what question was it that inspired the poem?

Never really used any answers from Twitter for a poem, but they definitely make for great conversations. It has been fun interacting with writers and readers from all walks of life and countries. It’s beautiful how art and writing connects us all on a very basic human level. More than thinking outside the box, I feel a poet needs to own their voice. Writing to fit a mould on social media or to be able to sell more books can rob one of their authenticity.

Do you have any writing rituals? What are they?

Not really. I haven’t been writing much after I wrote House Of Stars And Flowers On Mars. Maybe it is just a phase. I write when the words find me. I do keep making notes during day if a beautiful line or idea for a poem comes up in my head. When I am writing I do keep going through those ideas.

I know some poets require complete silence when they write, others want ambient noise, and there are some who write to music. What kinds of sounds do you find it easiest to write to? Or none at all?

I enjoy writing with music in the background. I just can’t write with people talking continuously around me. I have my own writing playlists and I play them and write.

What is something you’re afraid of?

I am afraid of losing the people I love and I think that is pretty universal. As a writer I am afraid of not ever having one shining moment with my poetry. But that is what keeps me working on my craft. I just think the only way I won’t accomplish anything is by giving up and I am pretty strong-willed not to give poetry or my ambitions up.

Why do you write poetry?

I started writing because I was in pain and poetry was my safe place, a way to turn that pain into art, a creative release. Now I write because I want to be understood, to be heard and I want to make sense of this world we live in. I always believe there is a poet for everyone, there is a poem in the world that can understand and comfort you, no matter what you may be going through. Poetry is for everyone. So I write because someone may find their comfort in my words and feel seen and not feel stupid for feeling something. Even if there is one person who doesn’t feel alone after reading a poem of mine or my book, then I think it’s important for me to continue writing.

Where can readers find you?

http://twitter.com/mssakshinarula

https://www.instagram.com/mssakshinarula/

https://sakshinarula.com/

41: A LOVE POEM TO ME…

41, I tear open a song like it’s a gift,
a birthday present from Lana, Morrison or Lennon
I dig their hearts out
from the graves in their words,
soothe the scars, 41 scars on mine
and sing it out loud, with a mouthful of wine
Blink once and I was 10 and blink twice and I’m 41
41, I think, maybe ten years or 14 more to go,
I bought a boxful of watercolors
and I haven’t learned how to make
watercolor paintings yet.
I have a book about kitchen gardening
and don’t know what needs to be planted yet.
Blessed kitchen garden.
Blessed kitchen, blessed garden, blessed home.
Yes, I have been blessed with love,
knock the wind out of me love,
my body hurts, soaked to the bone love.
Blessed with a lover,
the man of my dreams and angel baby souls,
2 playing in the backyard
and 2 in heaven at the end of the rainbow.
They grow, they smile, they laugh, they glow
and they keep me alive,
away from the darkness and never let me go.
But my nightmares are made of the mountain of dishes
in the kitchen’s unholy sink,
no friends to cherish, no friends to ring.
I turn a blind eye like they don’t exist
and think about strawberries and tomatillos,
and rosemary and habaneros,
the bath salts and the collagen I need,
about the dark chocolate cake,
the beautiful shoulder of lamb in the fridge,
and the crimson sunset today at 41 at my feet.
Yes, I have nowhere to go, nowhere to be
I mute everything, the phone, the world, the
unkempt hair and organic white sheets.
For I will not be as young as I am today,
as pretty as I am today,
as unashamed and unapologetic than I have ever been.
I built a home of poems and a kiln of all the stars in
my heart,
a home in the middle of wheat fields
41 bricks on the fireplace for 41 poets
who kept me warm on the nights I weeped.
What would Bukowski say about my poems I wonder?
Am I a comfortable poet or someone from the street?
I write my story like it’s everyone’s story,
and everyone’s in it, sonder!
41, Sonder is my favorite word from The Dictionary of
Obscure Sorrows, from any dictionary ever.
41, I reflect on the triumphs of all my yesterdays and
the ones to happen tomorrow.
Let me be your woman on love’s landscape,
the slow burn of a song on a cold night,
the blurring bokeh of city lights.
Let me fix your ribs like I fixed mine,
life broke us all differently but broke it did
And so, I poet at 41,
I send you a verse dipped in the smell of rain on a hot
summer day,
dipped in love from my brave undying heart,
and light from a thousand burning dreams in my eyes.
41, smug, the coffee and I are so hot I laugh
I resist, I fight,
I switch on the table lamp and write.

-Sakshi Narula

Isabelle Palerma

Un Cento: A Poem

From the Academy of American Poets, a cento is derived from the Latin word for “patchwork”. The cento (or collage poem) is a poetic form composed entirely of lines from poems by other poets.

Love,
what is love?
I tried to answer,
but our language had been lost
(and forgotten).
So, love’s face may still seem love
(to me).

Everything carries me
(to you).

Love,
what is love?
I tried to answer,
but our language had been lost
(and forgotten).

If little by little,
you stop loving me,
I shall stop loving you…

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me…

Love,
what is love?
I tried to answer,
but
our language had been lost.

If I were a poet,
I’d kidnap you.
Lyric you in lilacs.

If suddenly
you forget me,
do not look for me.

Isabelle Palerma

Poems Used:

“Love — What is Love?”, Robert Louis Stevenson.
“In the Dusky Path of a Dream”, Rabindranath Tagore.
“Sonnet 93”, William Shakespeare.
“If You Forget Me”, Pablo Neruda.
“Kidnap Poem”, Nikki Giovanni.

Poet Spotlight on: Brandan T.C. McCarty

Poet Brandan T.C. McCarty lives in Washington and in addition to writing poetry, he is interested in music and art. As a member of the Makah tribe, he has been a dancer, singer, and artist in that culture.

Brandan, you have said before music influences your writing. How exactly does music play a role on the poetry you create?

Yes, music is an influence. I listen to a large base of music because of family and friends introducing me to new music. It depends on the music sound being played, and it could just be a lyric(s). Metallica is a huge influence.

Writing is a form of art, but I know you also paint. What does the intersection of art and writing mean to you?

In ’01, I was hurt emotionally by a teacher in art college. I would destroy any art I created, so I switched to writing to deal with traumatic past events. In ’11, I started to work with acrylic paints. By ’18, I became a visual artist as well as a New Age Coastal Artist for my Native art. The past two and half years, I have been using many mediums and platforms to create art pieces. I still wrote, but not as much. I figured why not do both and maybe blend them together in some pieces. ‘The Wanderer’ is close to a visual concept of what I am evolving into as an artist.

Your Makah roots are very important to you, as is family and knowing your history. This is evident in the poetry you write. What would you advise the young poet who is not as well-versed in their past as you?

My roots are important. My dad has said to me all that I do reflects back on your teachers and persons involved with you. My mom said the same thing in her way of communicating to me. I read. I read just about anything. I was told to figure out the style you want to write, and then go find published work similar so your skill can be honest. As for past or culture, read and spend time with families and friends. Listen, take time to actually listen. Even if it is a day spent sitting in a kitchen drinking coffee and watching grandpa carve, or dad paint a mask. Open yourself to learn, to fall and get back up.

How would you describe your being a father as an influence on your poetry?

I used to have some selfish habits, and those habits almost claimed my life. I came to realize, I don’t want this for my eldest son. Nor any other child that looks up to me. So I turned from booze, I went back to arts. Poetry is art, to me just about anything could be considered an art. Now, with my baby I have been relearning to sing my Native Family songs and dancing the dances. I have been away too long from it. I guess I can say, being a father has enriched my poetry with more care and love than I had before.

Who are some of your favorite poets? What aspects of their poetry appeal to you as a reader? As a writer?

Charles Bukowski, as a reader, good comic. Biography spoken in poetry verse. As a writer, someone once said my work reminds him of Bukowski. Raymond Carver, as a reader, his work involving water or daily life. As a writer, I met Tess Gallagher and she said I reminded her of her late husband, Raymond. J. A. Janice has one book of poetry. Read a little a bit of it. A strong woman, and a gentle soul. She writes crime novels. Met her a couple times in person. My mom got me into her works. My late Mama Valerie, because she had a talent of words and wish I recorded some of her work better.

Where can readers find more of your writing?

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/majesticdravon
https://allpoetry.com/Brandan_Tototch
www.facebook.com/nmpBrandanMc

Gift Exchange

I stand before you, shivering and straggling a
box.
A battered, scarred, worn box full of the
darkness I wish to gift you.
The air I taste and breathe, is excellences of
sweetness.
In my bitter hands, 1 hold my broken dreams
and scattered Spirit.
All the past lovers have left their mark,
tainting my heart and you stand before me
Accepting the box, receiving as a gift and
you set the broken box at our feet
You lift up my dampen chin, my flooded
beard and your lips swim in my waters
You brave the morose salt for a delicate
kiss.
In return, you gift me light. You gift me
soothing songs to dance my heart
I gift you my darkness, and you gift me the
warming light.

Brandan T.C. McCarty

Isabelle Palerma

A Shattered Autobiography: a Poem

Like collaging layers of parchment paper
on top of one another,
I have buried myself underneath a rubble
of trauma.

Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon
or a phoenix rising from the ashes,
I am discovering my autobiography
stencilled between lines of poetry

and fiction

and fire.

Every word I scribble down in a mad haste
is a frantic attempt to name a feeling
that is beyond words.
(My way of sketching the rocket ship
that will guide me back to my galaxy.)

The sanitized version of reality
goes down as smoothly as cyanide – a bitter pill,
but somehow, something I’m forced to swallow,
nonetheless.
I see myself in the paint splatters &
the little messes she was so eager to take
a damp rag to.

(This is an imperfect work of art –
lines crooked and acrylics splashed
out of bounds.
This is not something that will catch the eye
of an art dealer.

This is my little mistake on canvas,
but you see,
that inked-in star is home for me.)

I have spent lifetimes, hiding underneath
piles of paper, dodging who I could have been,
avoiding who I could be,
but the truth is

I could be amazing
if you bend the bars of this iron cage.
I could be unstoppable
if you listen to these memoirs,
read these poems,
study these paintings.

When you finally ask who I am,
I’ll tell you.
I’m in media res,
still in the progress of self-discovery,
but I swear, even in the shattered mosaic bits,
I can shimmer.

I, too, can shine.

& perhaps that’s because of your belief in mirrors
that I can see the vestiges of beauty
glittering through the shards others neglected
and left behind.

Isabelle Palerma

Poet Spotlight On: FH Denny

My poet today is FH Denny. For the month of April, I have found a diverse group of poets willing to bare their souls to me and share both their poetry and answer my questions. Global Poetry Writing Month is a great time to learn about poets across the world, and the people I have chosen to interview are a diverse group with a wide variety of identities, ages, and cultural backgrounds.

Poet and fiction author FH Denny was born in the U.K. but now lives in New Zealand. He/they write fantasy novels as well as poetry and are a passionate reader, stating his/their favorite book as the novel Watership Down.

In my poetry, I often find a common theme, but your poems seem to run the gamut of different themes. What inspires your writing?

If I were writing a book of poetry, I would try to stick to a theme, but the poems I share on my website are inspired by how I feel at the time. I’m using that space to experiment with different topics and finding new ways to express myself.

What kind of rituals do you have when writing poetry?

I’m not sure I have rituals. I am fairly spontaneous when it comes to poetry. I go through short periods of poetry-inspo where I write whatever comes into my head. Then I go for months without writing a single poem, not even a haiku.

Is there a particular time of day or place you like to write?

I write most of my poetry in my room on my computer. My desk is placed in front of a large window that overlooks the garden and fields that slope down to a small brook fringed with willows and lilies. We rent the fields to a neighbour who keeps the cutest miniature horses. Sometimes you can see the black rabbits that have made a home here and families of pukeko, New Zealand’s raptor-like swamphen. I write best in the mornings. My brain is sharpest then.

When did you first begin writing poetry?

I’ve been writing poetry since I was little. However, those poems consisted of made-up words, a shortcut to ensuring my sentences rhymed. Think of it as a poorly crafted Lewis Caroll attempt.

What transforms a poem from “good” to “spectacular” in your eyes?

The best poems are noticeably authentic. They’re not pretentious, nor do they try too hard with their structure. Even where craft is lacking, true emotion and honest sentiment ensure a profound connection with the reader.

Who are some of your favorite poets?

Emily Dickinson, W.H Auden, Sylvia Plath.

Which areas do you think you excel in? Which areas do you think you need improvement
in?

I do not think I excel at all when it comes to poetry. I am definitely still a rookie. Therefore, I feel I could improve in every area. If I had to pick a specific weakness it would be a tendency to repeat myself. I like to say things more than once. Even in everyday speech, I have form for echoing what I’ve just said.

What is your favorite part about writing poetry?

It’s a way to put into words your inner fears, desires and hurts. As opposed to prose, you don’t have to worry about context, you can get straight to the heart of the matter. It’s probably one of the most therapeutic forms of writing.

Do you have a favorite word? If so, what is it?

Equivocal. One of my editors uses it a lot. I find the sound rather humorous. It’s such a pompous sounding word, yet it has a pixie-like ring to it.

Where can readers find more of your writing?

www.francesdenny.com

Condolences

I don’t think you are in – Heaven – you are much too earthy for – Heaven.
I don’t think you are in – Hell – you are much too good for – Hell.
I don’t think you are a – spirit – you were not the spiritual type.
Although mum told me of fairy blood in you – as runs through the veins of the Manx.
Then you must be in your grave, but I don’t know where that is – we could not visit your funeral- See – but you can’t see for your eyes are closed, as is the custom of the dead.

Then you must be sleeping – somewhere where it’s green – or in a chocolate shop – maybe? Where would you have liked to lie – if lying you have been?
Pity – I wouldn’t know; I didn’t know you well.

Had I been far, far, away over the seven seas – maybe – but I fear you’d have more to lose.
I asked mum one day what you feared the most – she told me losing your mind.
I’ll tell you one thing, Grandma, God did not create this world, but perhaps it was Murphy’s law – I may have known you better, but you may have known me worse.
The more marbles you have cluttering your mind, the more marbles you’d likely lose.
A pity how the mind contradicts the heart – as your heart gets bigger, your mind gets smaller. You had friends in many places, from Nigeria to the Isle of Man and from New Zealand to the Isle of Crete.
Grandma, the world is unkind when it steals a nurse’s mind.

It is why you’re not Murphy’s nature – spirit, or a Heavenly – creature
But instead a valued memory – that touched those who mattered.
Grandma, those memories you lost weren’t really lost. They were just passing through – from your mind to your friend’s minds – to your family and kin.
I may not have known you that much then but I can picture you now.
Grandma – I know where you are now – you must be in our minds.

– FH Denny