I Wish I'd Written This

Muhammed Ali

i.m.

By Gail Hennessy

you would not fight
those you did not hate
for those who hated you

and so �

you danced with words
like a caged bird

who knew how to sing

I'm sure everyone understands why I wanted to share this poem with you. Ali may have been a controversial figure once, but by the time of his recent death, and indeed long before, was greatly loved all over the world � a world which came to recognise him as a hero. This poem reminds us exactly why, and of his varied talents.

He too was a poet, remember. You think I exaggerate? Look again at his witty, tongue-in-cheek verses. They weren't meant to be literary, of course; they were meant to be fun, and memorable. But the way he put words together revealed a talent for it, even at his most insulting, and had something of the unexpected. Phrases such as the famous 'float like a butterfly, sting like a bee' are far above doggerel.

His greatest talent, of course, was for boxing. It's a sport I dislike, disapprove of, and don't watch � but I watched him. His exceptional grace and skill turned it into an art form. (The fact that he was so pretty � as he liked to remark � didn't hurt, either.)

The people of his home town, who knew him best and longest, attest to the fact that he was a clever and determined child and, above all, a good, kind man.

His qualities are conveyed with great economy and poignancy, encapsulating the essential, by this Australian poet who, I am pretty sure, never met him.

I have only just become acquainted with Gail Hennessy, as we are both participating this month at Project 366, a year-long blog featuring various Australian poets and artists, by invitation. She tells me, of herself:

I have been publishing my poetry since 1976 in newspapers, journals and anthologies. The most recent being A Slow Combusting Hymn edited by Jean Kent and Kit Kelen. My poem 'Finding the Words', highly commended by the Society of Women Writers, will be published in Ink3 and launched in November. I published a collection of new and previously published poems in Witnessing in 2010. Copies can be obtained from me through gailan@idl.net.au for $20 including postage.

(Overseas purchasers may have to double check whether postage is included for them.)

Reviewers of Witnessing say:

Gail Hennessy is a poet of deft statements, memorable distillations of experience that go far beyond the private to awaken reminiscences of enigmas worth reflecting on.

and:

Poem after poem shares with the reader the emotional intensity of its experience and the effect is cumulative. To read them is indeed a rich and moving experience.

The full reviews may be read at Google Books. Unfortunately there is no ebook, but a number of her poems may be found online, here. (I've saved you some Googling, by taking the first step.) And of course you can also find her poetry this month at Project 366 (see link above).

Material shared in 'I Wish I'd Written This' is presented for study and review. Poems, photos and other writings remain the property of the copyright owners, usually their authors.

I Wish I'd Written This

Returning From a Flower Viewing
by Angie Walker

If you make tea for people returning from a flower viewing, displaying a painting of flowers or birds, or a flower arrangement in the tearoom is inappropriate. � Sen No Rikyu

But, if someone�s strumming a harp�s G-string in a concentrated, concerted effort in the tea room, as if it were a guitar G trying to make out like a mock machine gun, well even this is a luminous labor of afternoon love-making compared to the halting slap-in-the-face from coming in from the out-of-doors fully drenched in leggy flowers, the jazz of bees, pistils and petals, to face a fragmentary and ridiculously pasty-painted landscape some hack thought encompassed all. It cannot encompass all. I�ve just seen the stamen and pistil, for God�s sake.

************

This is another of the poems I fell in love with during April Poetry Month. There were many more, of course, and I don't propose to treat you to them all, particularly as you may well have seen them already anyway. But this one is so deliciously quirky and different, whilst at the same time so succinct and sane, I simply couldn't resist it.

Above all I love her delight in the real beauty of nature. What the quotation that served as her prompt conveys obliquely and with restraint, she says uncompromisingly, exuberantly.

Angie, who blogs at angieinspired says of herself:

"I am a writer. I like words. I especially enjoy temperamental verbs and nouns duking it out in alliteration and assonance. Twenty-six characters (the ABC's if you must call them that), rearranged in a gazillion different ways make me happy. But remember, it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing...and a good tap shoe finish!"

And if you haven't caught up with her blog yet, it's full of good stuff!

Material shared in 'I Wish I'd Written This' is presented for study and review. Poems, photos and other writings remain the property of the copyright owners, usually their authors.

I Wish I'd Written This

I SHOULD HAVE WRITTEN THIS LONG AGO IN HOPES YOU MIGHT SEE IT AND STILL BE HERE

By Tim Schaefer

Online bullying? 

when I was comin' up

it was up close

and personal

and in your face

(not Facebook)

one thing it does

when you're on the receiving end

is helps to build character

so develop a hard shell

kids

like that giant tortoise at the zoo

(and shine it with turtle wax)

and have some empathy

for your tormentors

for they are hurting

the same as you

and

consider the source

can't tell you how many times

that has seen me through

never once validated

or took their words

to heart

that's called knowing who you are

never knew anyone

of my generation

(them damn hippies!)

who checked out over it

cuz

there is a place

deep inside

at your very core

where no one can hurt you

find it

it is your strength

and your reserve

and one day

it will lead you

triumphant

into the sun

The recent April challenges for Poetry Month resulted in much wonderful poetry. Impossible to single out favourites from such riches � yet this one particularly caught my eye, for its subject matter as well as its execution. I hope these words, based on personal experience, might reach and help those who need them. 

I notice that these days I don't write much socio-political stuff any more, and that I don't think highly of those I did write in my fiery youth. Such things can date easily, and the heat of the moment is not always a good place to write from. 

This poem avoids such traps by focusing on that personal aspect which is also universal, from a very human perspective.

We know that online bullying is a serious issue. Tim reminds us that it is a new form of an old problem, and that it is possible to withstand it. His words put me in mind of good fatherly advice. Which is not to say that this advice can reach all the bullied kids in the world, nor that it could get through to all of them if it did � but we have to do what we can, don't we, if we see a possibility? What better way for a poet to address the problem? We can send out our words like the proverbial bread upon the waters, and hope and pray they may have an effect.

Many of us know Tim Schaefer better as Timoteo, his blogging name. When I asked him for some details about himself, he sent me these bio notes:

Self-proclaimed desert rat Tim Schaefer resides in southern Arizona. He spent way too many years as a rock n roll radio deejay--both inside and outside the continental United States--yet somehow survived!  His poetry, essays, and short stories have appeared in South Dakota Review, Mind In Motion, The Awareness Journal, and other literary publications. His first book, Darwin's Moon, is a memoir of high times and low places. Wending its way through the stories and poems of his latest offering, Last Tango In Timbuktu, is the theme of chance encounters and the strange bedfellows they create. Tim blogs at Catnip and also collaborates on a film review blog with author and Broadway playwright Jill Williams at Timmy's Noodle FilmReviews.

I've just had a look at the film reviews. Very informative (about the stuff you want to know � while avoiding spoilers) and very readable!

Material shared in 'I Wish I'd Written This' is presented for study and review. Poems, photos and other writings remain the property of the copyright owners, usually their authors.

I Wish I'd Written This

Brick-Dumb Motherfucker

By Shay Caroline Simmons 

A co-worker, a woman I'd liked quite well up to then

for her quick mind and ready smile,

said, as we were completing a delivery together,

that she thought

lesbians

only went that way because they couldn't get a man.

She said it as an observation

without any rancor

and without any idea who she was talking to. 

Then she looked at me to agree, the way women do.

I thought of my then-girlfriend

and how she knew me like a crow knows its nest.

I thought of her blackbird eyes,

her sure touch and drag race temperament.

"That's not true," I told my co-worker, who remained

unconvinced.

It's death by a thousand cuts, this living on the outside,

but we are warriors--have to be--and we keep on.

Later that day, I read about a transwoman who was murdered

by her boyfriend, who felt

he'd been lied to.

Listen, you brick-dumb motherfucker, I thought,

the woman beat herself up every day,

all her life,

until she found the stupendous guts to live as herself

and living as yourself

is always the stone cold truth.

The next day, some god squad evangelist

told me the bible says how I love is an abomination.

All I know is,

his squeaky clean Sunday jesus

wouldn't last ten minutes--

would be curled up fetal-style in some vestibule by the mailboxes,

sucking his thumb and begging to go home-- 

if he had to live where we live all the time.

I'm not eligible to write exactly this � on account of I'm what's called straight. Which I regard as just as much an accident of birth and genetics as any other orientation. However I am very glad someone wrote this, albeit deploring the fact that it was even necessary.  It is necessary; and that is good cause for rage, sorrow, outrage, and speaking up. 

I sometimes hear of the 'duty' of poets to say thus or so. I don't know that there is any obligation on us to do anything except make the best poems we can as long as we are impelled to do so. And that is a matter of vocation rather than duty. But most of us in this poetic community live in countries where we do have a lot of freedom to say whatever we like in our poems, and I absolutely applaud those who take the opportunity to speak up against injustice, intolerance, cruelty, and all the other evils humanity is prey to. 

Maybe we can help educate the ignorant and prejudiced � including the many unthinking, like the woman in this poem, who had no notion of being nasty or hurtful. She might well be so blind as to need it spelled out to her just how and why her prejudice is very much those things: nasty, and hurtful. It is well spelled out by this brilliant poet, whom I've long admired.

Shay probably needs little introduction to this audience. But if you haven't yet encountered her wonderful writing, she blogs as Fireblossom at Shay's Word Garden. 

She was featured here with a couple of other equally wonderful poets in Sherry's 'POEMS OF THE WEEK ~ BY THREE REAL TOADS on July 13 2015.  

There are even more riches to be found at her blog. As well as lots of excellent poems, she has an article on free verse which I think is a great read, and you can find her books too. (One of them, which I own and adore, is a collaboration with Joy Ann Jones aka Hedgewitch and Kelli Simpson aka Mama Zen � the aforementioned wonderful poets featured with her in Sherry's article. The rest, which I plan to own, are monographs.) 

If you prefer, you can consult Shay's Amazon page and/or her Goodreads page. 

Just read her poetry! It has a wide range of styles and themes, and it never disappoints.

Material shared in 'I Wish I'd Written This' is presented for study and review. Poems, photos and other writings remain the property of the copyright owners, usually their authors.

I Wish I'd Written This

God Says Yes To Me

By Kaylin Haught

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic

and she said yes

I asked her if it was okay to be short

and she said it sure is

I asked her if I could wear nail polish

or not wear nail polish

and she said honey

she calls me that sometimes

she said you can do just exactly

what you want to

Thanks God I said

And is it even okay if I don't paragraph

my letters

Sweetcakes God said

who knows where she picked that up

what I'm telling you is

Yes Yes Yes

From The Palm of Your Hand. � Tilbury House Publishers, 1995.

I don't remember now where I came across this, but I fell in love with it at once and saved it in my scrapbook.

I love that God here is 'she', and I love the colloquial conversational tone the poet gives to God.

I greatly admire the way this poem � entirely without punctuation � is crafted so that it simply has to be read as the poet intends, all the pauses and inflections happening exactly as they should, and everything building to the wonderful affirmation of the last line.

You may well know the poem already, as when I Googled I found it all over the place. I decided to use it anyway, so that anyone who has not seen/heard it doesn't miss out; and because, even if you have, something so good can stand repetition.

Here's a very cute video of the poem on YouTube.

The San Diego Reader tells us that:

Kaylin Haught was born in Albion, Illinois, in 1947, and raised on the Oklahoma prairie. Her father was a preacher and oilfield roustabout, her mother a homemaker, factory worker, and Sunday-school teacher. Her poetry has appeared in Ms. magazine, Onthebus, and other journals, college texts, and inspirational books. �God Says Yes to Me� was set to music to be used in �Choirs,� by the composer Paul Carey. 

The online store of This Land Press says: 

Kaylin Haught is an Oklahoma poet. She lives in Grove, in a house older than the state that�s abbreviated on her mail. Haught is the author of the poem �God Says Yes To me.� She is the daughter of a preacher, a believer since she was knee-high. Now she finds God in nature. Sometimes Haught misses church. She might go back one day, she says. 

Notes on the music fill in a few more details:

Kaylin Haught�s poem God says Yes to me is, to many people, a witty, humorous poem about affirmation and feminine power. This was Kaylin�s own take on her poem when it was published in Poetry 180, a high visibility Library of Congress sponsored series introducing contemporary poetry to junior high and high school age students. 

Since that time, the poem has also been quoted in many sermons in churches around  the country, as many ministers have stressed the more serious value of Kaylin�s poem -- the power of God (whether He, She, or It!) to affirm our lives in even the tiniest, seemingly inconsequential detail. 

It�s this tendency of a great text to elicit multiple interpretations that draws me to set such poems to music. And please notice that God loves jazz�most all of God�s answers to the questions are in swing time!

It's interesting that the San Diego Reader subtitles the poem, 'By Various Authors' even though Haught is credited as the poet. Perhaps the YouTube images of several girls asking God these questions is an accurate representation of the source material.

The Google search also led me to someone complaining of being unable to find her, or more of her work. 'Kaylin, who are you?' he asks. I can't find more of her work either, but there is a facebook 'Writer' page, which I have duly 'liked'. It doesn't have much on it though, nor does it appear to have existed for very long. It may have been created by a fan rather than the poet.

Elusive as she may be, the poem itself is direct and accessible. I suspect that she is simply not active online � there are still plenty of people like that, believe it or not! � and has possibly written and published lots more stuff which appears on paper instead. However, if she did only ever write this one poem, well it's the one to have written, isn't it?



Material shared in 'I Wish I'd Written This' is presented for study and review. Poems, photos and other writings remain the property of the copyright owners, usually their authors.

I Wish I'd Written This

Black Elephant

By Tug Dumbly

He�d turn up with their kids and a glass of

wine. New to the park. Maybe trying to

polish the scene of sprogs in dog shit shoes

chucking doggy-bag water bombs into

something a bit more refined. 

One day she turned up with their kids and a

shiner. No trip into a cupboard this.  

Too exact a coal black pit. But there was

no trying to hide it behind shades. She 

flew it like a pirate flag

over the park, in battered broadside display.

She didn�t say and we didn�t ask

about what was so achingly stamped. She

just invited our silent surmise of

the black elephant.

Who�s sorry now? her bruised skull screamed. She�d screw

a penance from him to make mincemeat of

his puny hook � she�d barbeque his good

name slow, on the spitting rotisserie

of public shame.

I never liked the woman. For all the

usual piss-poor reasons. She was pale

and unsmiling, unreadable, aloof.

Plus her son nearly blinded mine with a

kebab skewer.

The jab missed his eye by an inch.

They were only five, just kids trying to

kill each other in the usual way.

Could happen to anyone. Not her fault.

Though still we suckle blame.

He made the kid make cookies and bring them

to our door as an act of contrition.

I�ll grant him that. It was a nice little

lesson in actions and consequences

and the need for amends

a lesson he himself was now learning again.

I admired her guts, turning up like that,

out of the blue with that shining black. He

wasn�t back in the park for a while, and

then without his glass of wine

swallowed by the badge of her brutal pride.

Domestic violence is seen as a big issue these days, in Australia and other countries. By which I mean it's becoming much less the 'elephant in the room' that no-one talks about, which is what it was for most of our past. It was never a small issue really, but was very much inclined to be swept under the carpet. Women themselves regarded their black eyes and other injuries as cause for shame. I love this story of one woman who didn't try to hide hers behind dark glasses, didn't stay indoors until it had faded, didn't pretend she'd walked into a door. We need to make sure such things don't remain hidden. Both the poet and his subject are doing their bit there! Interesting, though, that the observers in the park still keep silent.

What I also love about this poem is the authenticity, created in the details. These are real people with all their quirks and humanity. We don't of course know if the poem is fictional or whether the events were actually lived and witnessed. It doesn't matter; we've all known such people and such events. They ring so true because they are so familiar. What is not so familiar is the proud behaviour of the woman. I hope she's not fictional! Even if she is � when poems like this get written, we know the time is soon that many such women will come to life.

The name Tug Dumbly is a pseudonym, pronounced with the 'b' silent (get it?).

I'll let Tug tell you about Tug, in his bio notes:

Tug Dumbly has performed his poems, songs, monologues and rants for years on radio (Triple J, ABC 702) and at numerous venues and festivals, both nationally in Australia and abroad. He has released a couple of spoken word cd�s through the ABC, and twice won the Banjo Paterson Prize for comic verse, once for his 8000 word epic ode to meat Barbeque Bill and the Roadkill Caf�.

    

He has twice won the Nimbin World Performance Poetry Cup, in 2007 and 2010, and in 2010 won the Spirit of Woodford Story Telling Competition at the Woodford Folk Festival in Queensland.

He last year (2015) got runner up in the Josephine Ulrick Poetry Prize through Griffith University for his poem Peeling.  

He hates fakeness, but is slowly coming to terms with the fact that fakeness is something many people enjoy. He resents the fact that the world has never recognized his genius, but is learning to forgive it. He performs widely in schools, and his passions include folk music and cicadas. He believes that, given a little perseverance, he would make a fine game-show host, Cult Leader and Shakespearian actor.    

He included his contact details, so I will too: 

    Tug Dumbly Contact:

Postal: 307 Abercrombie St,

Darlington, NSW, 2008.

Phone: 0413 503 027

Email: tugdumbly@hotmail.com

Performers should be seen and heard, not merely read. You can find him on YouTube. Lots of goodies to choose from there. 

Much of his stuff is very Australian and others might not get all the references, but I'm sure you'll find something to enjoy. Poets and environmentalists (is there a difference?) will appreciate this one.  

He's also described online as a satirist, and that he is, of the kind some people hate, others don't understand, and I adore. I confess to being mad about the totally scurrilous, rude, over-the-top and hilarious Why I Hate Baz Lurhman. Even though I personally don't hate Baz and do love his films, it make me laugh out loud � a lot. 

Note:  I at first inadvertently posted an earlier version of the poem. The one you see here now is the one the poet considers final.


Poems and photos used in �I Wish I�d Written This� remain the property of the copyright holders (usually their authors).

I Wish I'd Written This

Freedom Ride

Leigh D C Spencer

They know, you know

When you slip that temporary leash on them

they vibrate

while you sign their release papers

The lap they sit on

in the getaway car

belongs to the new

absolute

love of their life

They know

a savior

when they see, lick, and smell one

Susie was a skeletal Chihuahua mix

two years old and e-listed

for being a stray and too thin

My son�s was the lap she sat on

and the pillow she slept on that first night

Home

wrapped around his sleeping head

Seven years later

she has her own staircase

to reach the top bunk

where my teenager 

HER teenager

sleeps

She hangs over the edge

protective gargoyle

Never doubt

all twelve healthy pounds of her

would face any threat, real or imagined

for him

Sarah was fifteen

same owners her whole life

They couldn�t afford to have her teeth cleaned

so they dropped her off to be put down

Spry, adorable, and surprisingly quiet

Jack Russells usually bark

but not when their vocal chords are cut

I guess that surgery was affordable

when she was a pup

Sarah had her head out the open window

worshipping the sun and wind on her smiling face

When we stopped at the park,

she nearly wrenched my arm out of the socket

tearing off to run in the grass, chase pigeons, 

and play with ALL the children

Apple was twelve, fat, and blind

She literally pranced to my car

proud and happy, past all the other dogs and kennels

She wedged herself between me and the steering wheel

smiling, clumsy, endlessly goofy

My lap and then my heart

claimed as hers

Before they know

about ample food and indulgent treats

about soft, warm beds

about pats and scratches and belly rubs

about people who will never leave them

scared, hurt, or alone

about HOME � a safe place to FINALLY 

share their divine, unconditional love

Before they know any of that,

they know their greatest joy 

starts

with that temporary leash

that welcoming, open door

that savior�s lap

of the freedom ride

Yes, another one for all you (other) soppy animal lovers out there. This could almost be a companion piece to Tany Delys Mandorla's Red Collar, which I posted recently. When you finish mopping your eyes, you may ask why another so soon? I'll answer that with what Leigh posted on her facebook page a few days ago:

You GUYS!! Something truly and incredibly AWESOME happened this week! My dear, amazing friend Delaina hooked me up AGAIN with a SUPER-COOL writing opportunity.

One of her relatives is on the board and planning a gala event for the New Hampshire Humane Society. They had an idea to get original poetry about shelter dogs, have an artist make it look beautiful, and then have more artists - adoptable DOG artists - paint it with pawprints to turn it into gorgeous wall-hangings that people could bid on.

Delaina agreed to write a poem for this. THEN she recommended ME to do the same. I wrote and sent in a poem yesterday and THEY ARE GOING TO LET DOGS WITH PAINTED PAWS WALK ALL OVER IT AND USE IT FOR THE AUCTION!!

I am a million degrees beyond excited about this. I got to write something that will be used to raise money for shelter animals. Throw in my family and a messy cheeseburger and you've pretty much got EVERYTHING I love most in the world covered.

Isn't that a great use for poetry? The auction is not happening until June, but Leigh tells me she got so excited she couldn't wait to let everyone know. I love her excitement nearly as much as I love the poem, and I couldn't wait to share either.

(Yes, as many of you know, I am a crazy cat person, but I also like dogs � and in fact the dearest animal that ever came to be with me was a very large and, I insist, peerless dog.)

I featured Leigh in 'I Wish I'd Written This' once before. Click here if you'd like to remind yourselves. I'm stealing this photo from that post to use again here for obvious reasons.

Poems and photos used in �I Wish I�d Written This� remain the property of the copyright holders (usually their authors).