Every Day Is a Poem by Jacqueline Suskin (classic english novels TXT) 📕

that work as well. We’re all pulling each other through and healing one another by sharing our depths.

There is so much to be found in the dark,

and when we sing about it, when we make

a poem out of it, when we communicate

about it all, that’s how we transform it.

We make use of it to the best of our ability,

and it becomes beautiful. It becomes new.

Through the poets and artists who suffered and shared, I’ve learned how to better embrace and understand my own suffering, along with humanity’s suffering, and I’ve figured out how to let it all open me even further.

The Great Command

The great command holds

my attention at various points

throughout the day and night.

Keep on living, keep on living, keep on living.

I hear a voice ask me what abilities

can I manage, of what am I able?

I respond with

whatever I can muster.

I follow up my ideas with infinite thanks.

What else is there

in the face of such mystery

other than continuous celebration?

I’m just happy to be anything at all.

I say yes without fault

for nothing could be too wrong-everything

is as it should be.

How could it not be?

Equally, as others write about their great pleasures and triumphs, I find myself turning toward whatever source supplied them with such exuberance. The same goes with ancient texts about traditions, belief systems, and sacred practices. To read about the ways in which humans have celebrated being alive along the arc of time is to uncover ancient inclinations that live within me. This informs my process and enriches not only my historical knowledge but also my personal mythology, which uplifts all that I do.

I’d like to point out here to be very mindful of cultural appropriation. I’m not suggesting we all take freely from other cultures and announce ownership over what feels best for us. I’m advocating for an individualized exploration that is private. I’m an amalgamation of all that resonates with me spiritually, artistically, and aesthetically, and I wouldn’t know how to rise into the wholeness of my story without having access to the shared stories of others. But at the same time, I do my best to honor each and every fine line that exists between my sacred practices and the origins of my inspirations.

EXERCISE FOR SHARING

READ ALOUD TO OTHERS AND SHARE YOUR WORK

One great way to understand the importance of sharing is to read aloud. Share your own writing or poems by your favorite poets with a friend or a loved one. See what happens as the words are expressed out loud.

POETRY IS AN ORAL

TRADITION, AND READING

IT TO ONE ANOTHER CAN

BE TRANSFORMATIVE.

When I write poems for people, I always read them aloud. Their retention level is higher because they can hear the inflections and cadence in my voice, and all of this says just about as much as the words themselves.

Even better than reading aloud is sharing your printed work while reciting it. Your friend can listen to you read as they follow along on the page. Sharing your work in progress is a great way to get feedback, but it doesn’t have to feel like a workshop or editing practice. You can simply ask the listener to take in your words without any criticism. Sometimes it’s helpful to hear yourself share, to witness someone else encountering your work, and this act of participation can provide just enough vulnerability to ignite new inspiration.

WRITING PRACTICE

HOW TO EDIT YOUR WORK FOR SHARING

In order to share more effectively, it’s important to learn how to edit and adjust our writing. When we write, we’re trying to discuss existence through our own exceptional eyes, and it’s hard to find a balance between the preciousness of the personal and the crafting of clarity for our readers.

After I write a first draft, I start the editing process by finding the places in the poem where I’m telling the reader something without including an image or sensorial addition that enhances what I’m trying to relay. How can I add a bit of definition to something mysterious? How can I include my reader in a very metaphysical opinion?

This is where the technique “show, don’t tell” comes into practice. Instead of telling the reader what the bird singing on my windowsill looks like, I try to explain its song and feather coloration with metaphor. I try to avoid clichés by connecting the bird to something unexpected.

Here’s an example of how to move

from the telling to the showing:

Can you see the difference? If you’re writing about your daughter’s first visit to the ocean, show us the expression on her face. Compare it to something personal, something that someone else can relate to, something unlike any other thing, because your daughter’s face is unlike any other thing on earth.

This is the delicate work of word choice, and it’s a huge part of the craft of poetry that takes a lot of practice. Choosing the right word isn’t something that necessarily comes naturally. It’s an exercise that may get easier over time, and it’s as connected to a writer’s confidence in voice as it is to the ability to see beyond their own lens.

If I’m trying to invite anyone and everyone

into my work, that doesn’t mean I use

simplified language. Instead, I have to build

a language that is both uncommon and

understandable.

When I edit my work, I circle words that feel trite or ordinary, and I do my best to avoid anything too abstract. The words love, fear, hate, and beauty are huge words that mean something very different to every single person, and they’re abstractions. If you want to tell your readers about love and fear, write out your very own vulnerable version. What kind of love is it that you want to share? What does fear feel like in your body? Find something exact and strange to evoke an extremely distinct image for the reader, who