Live Encounters Poetry & Writing Volume One November-December 2024
Words are Big…They Blow Me Out…They Make Poems.
– Guest Editorial by Terry McDonagh
This morning when reading a football page I came across a piece that suggested football was bigger than all of us – I suppose it’s true in some ways. I like football and, indeed, sport in general. I love my bike, too, because it sets words in motion, and, as I rattle along I notice things that shout stop or, simply, keep going. Talk to yourself. Make things up. Words, words! Words old and new, words by the tonne – W.B. Yeats.
And Mary Oliver:
As for life,
I’m humbled,
I’m without words
sufficient to say
how it’s been hard as flint,
and soft as a spring pond,
both of these
and over and over…
Heaps of words thrown together do deals, entertain, make us laugh, imagine and cry – but the language of poetry provokes and keeps us wondering – a bit like crossing from one unknown bog-land or meadow to another on a warm day or even on a cold day. It can feel like a strange sight or sound calling from a place we don’t know. My wife, Joanna and I like reading – we watch football on TV and go to live games as well. We were at a club Gaelic football match, recently, between Ballintubber and Breaffy and the banter along the sideline was of a much superior quality than some of the antics on the pitch. It was all special. A bit of craic. It didn’t rain and we had an exciting game with heaps of big, rich language that felt like a huge poem wrapped up in a warm coat.
And speaking of rich language, I had the pleasure of being present at a reading by that wonderful Australian poet, Les Murray. I was living in Hamburg at the time and the Director of Literaturhaus Hamburg, Ursula Keller, invited me to attend – which I did – and not knowing much about Les Murray’s work, I was eager to be educated. Now I have a signed copy of his selected poems – a collection I will always treasure. His reading was hypnotic. It was everything I would wish for in a reading: his use of language; his rural background and mother’s death when he was a boy; his love of nature and the less fortunate – it was all there. And we had a special conversation and a few beers after the reading. I remember thinking to myself: this is a real poet, one I would like to be. His work was a kind of quirky diary – a journey in rich lyrical words that will remain with me and, I feel sure, with others that had the experience of being present at a reading of his. He has passed away but his is a great story – much bigger than football.
Homer and Beowulf tell the big stories that we study and label as epic poetry. They hang over us like a threat and source of inspiration – as, indeed, for an Irish writer, does W. B. Yeats in some ways. His work takes us through his ‘story’ from his early ideas and ideals, through to his middle years – Responsibilities – and in his later life, to more reflective work. His life and poetry can hardly be separated – a bit like a leaf on its journey from spring through to winter. I recall doing a reading a number of years ago where I suggested that I could see my own work as a kind of diary or journey in verse and, to my surprise, some ‘established’ poets in the audience were not in agreement and shook their heads vehemently but, thankfully, there were others.
I’m not too sure where I’m going right now. I set out by suggesting that poetry was bigger than all of us – even bigger than football. I think of Seamus Heaney, the Australian poet, Homer Rieth with his wonderful ‘epics’ Wimmera and The Garden of Earth. Geraldine Mills, Sinead McClure and Moya Cannon are poets; Bob Dylan is a poet, John Cooper Clarke is a poet; my neighbour who tells jokes and stories in the pub, surrounded by a willing audience, is a poet and doesn’t it. Real poetry is the story of life itself on earth and beyond – it’s the music, mosaic and sound that landscape, fashion and streets throw up. Bigger than football. The New York Times Book Review said, Mary Oliver’s poems are thoroughly convincing – as genuine, moving, and implausible as the first caressing breeze of spring. She writes stories in verse of the coming-together of all living things.
We communicate in so many ways but for, us, writers, it’s the shape, sound, feel and rhythm of language that counts. Peter Porter said, Matthew Sweeney tells you relaxed stories in gentle persuasive verse. He, too, has passed on but his words should resonate through generations to come. Matthew, once, said something like: there are worse pastimes than writing and rain doesn’t matter.
I really enjoy writing poetry for and with young people where we can scribble and perform our work. We don’t discuss reviews, good or bad writing, red carpets, funding or any of that stuff, but we have lots of fun and smiling faces. I, sometimes, wish we could hold on to the innocence and devil-may-care that young writers possess. It’s infectious. One day, after a session of planting, starving and eating words with children, I scribbled the following poem.
Making Poems
Eat the words
beat the words
cut the words well.
Stare at words
glare at words
make the words tell.
Carve the words
starve the words
watch the words jell.
Sow the words
hoe the words
give the words a bell.
Words are sloppy like jellyfish.
They are busy
like bees among berries
like mice in a granary.
Words carry you up.
They swing you about.
They drop you down.
They slam crash bang wallop.
They frolic.
They can be soft as down
quiet as clover
quaint as clowns
or sing like fleas in a mattress.
Words blow me out. They make poems.
© Terry McDonagh
Terry McDonagh, Irish poet and dramatist has worked in Europe, Asia and Australia. He’s taught creative writing at Hamburg University and was Drama Director at Hamburg International School. Published eleven poetry collections, letters, drama, prose and poetry for young people. In March 2022, he was poet in residence and Grand Marshal as part of the Saint Patrick’s Day celebrations in Brussels. His work has been translated into German and Indonesian. His poem, ‘UCG by Degrees’ is included in the Galway Poetry Trail on Galway University campus. In 2020, Two Notes for Home – a two-part radio documentary, compiled and presented by Werner Lewon, on The Life and Work of Terry McDonagh, The Modern Bard of Cill Aodáin. His latest poetry collection, ‘Two Notes for Home’ – published by Arlen House – September 2022. He returned to live in County Mayo in 2019.