Reconciling Opposites

My first introduction to teaching came to me early one rainy morning over twenty years ago. I was just a bright eyed young man, twenty something years old, taking a job just like anybody else, this time assigned as an attendant in a school for children with disabilities. 

Within the school a desk was situated in the center of three halls… each separating the level of disability. I went to go into the one with a big A sign over it, my green corduroy pants zipping as I walked. The attendant said to me, “No Mister Elmore, you’ll be over in C wing today.” Just then a child screamed and madly ran about, until a guy came, grabbed him rather forcefully, and dragged him into a room. I asked myself “What in the world have I got myself into?!”

What does this have to do with poetry? Everything.

First thing a teacher asked me to do was to help a young fellow 15 years old that had a terrible bathroom related accident. I had to take him into a room and change his protective undergarment and get him all cleaned up. That was my introduction to teaching… eventually as a one on one attendant for a cute little colored boy named Elton that couldn’t speak.

I went on to take over a class for a lady on a long extended absence. That’s when the teaching came in and I absorbed lesson plans to teach autistic kids about the weather, colors, the alphabet, and many other things for months.

After that I was offered a job as a daycare teacher for 3 to 5 year olds. I did that in the morning, then went on rocking in the evening with my rock band playing gigs. What a combination! The things we do for money…Then after a year, I discovered substituting kindergarten through high school paid more, so I did that too in so many places…  in every grade… for quite some time. So many kids…

What does this have to do with poetry? Everything. 

I learned so much from each experience. How younger children saw no differences in race or gender or anything like that… they just wanted to play together. My favorite grades. As they got older… emotions set in. Even older yet, perception. Then on to teenagers… and we all know what that entails!

Years later, I draw upon this awakening everyday. It changed me. My heart opened to us as people. I often look at older folks with wisened eyes and wonder what they were like in their youth. What have they experienced? I see past the surface into who and what they are inside… just a child learning how to get by in the world.

What does this have to do with poetry? Everything.

We live in a world that is clouded in dissonance, collectively divided by so many aspects that affect who we are as individuals. Yet there are also beautiful attributes… divine in form and facility. 

Like the young man who had an accident… we have our accidents too. Faults that are not of our choosing but occur as roots to trip upon on our journey. We are only human.

As poets, we have to reconcile opposites. The good with the bad. Bad poems. Good poems. Poems that divide. Poems that untie. Poems that really say something. Pomes that say nothing at all. We are stewards of our own direction, and our works demonstrate this.

In this three part blog series I would like to invite you to ask yourself… what am I trying to achieve with all of this writing? What am I really trying to say? What is its worth really? Am I just writing for myself or writing for a greater purpose? Am I observing or interacting? And ultimately… does it all really matter when it’s all said and done?

Please join me next week as I begin to address these questions… and even more… start to formulate the “direction” that I believe all writers should, in one form or another, attempt to achieve in order to get to the next level.

Feel free to comment on this blog and tell me your story too. I want to know about you POET!! This is an INTERACTIVE forum, not entertainment. Answer some of the above questions and share your thoughts here. Dig a little deeper we will climb this mountain together. IF YOU CARE, SHARE!!!

See you next week!

Until then… write on! 🚀

Matt Elmore

Snapshot poetry

I wrote and posted a poem earlier today that was a 'snapshot' of an infinitesimal moment in time. Ever done that? You know - that moment you just have to capture in words because... well maybe you didn't have a camera with you at the time....

I think you know what I mean. There are instances in our lives we never forget. A lot of them possess some form of intrinsic beauty that impresses itself upon our memories. For me, watching a sunset is one of those moments. Watching a sunset on Midsummer's day is particularly poignant for me. 

I used to live in the most northerly part of the United Kingdom - the Shetland Islands. There, on midsummer, at midnight, you can watch the sun touch the horizon and then start its ascent again. It's magical. It doesn't help much with sleeping. But it's magical. 

And so I recalled the magical moment of sunsets by writing a snapshot poem called Midsummer. Where I am in the South West of England, we don't have the delight of watching the midnight sun, but we do have very light nights. So I wrote what someone has termed 'a breathless' poem. You can't read it out in one breath (ok, there's a challenge for you to disprove me...). It has no punctuation, and it has no upper case letters. It's just a grab at a very small fragment of time. What I'm trying to do here is use the words in a sharp flow without interruption to try to describe and capture the moment.

Let me know what you think - of the poem sure, but more importantly, of the technique of capturing that one moment in time through the use of a flow of words. 

Personally, I think it's so much better that using a camera.

Midsummer

yellow fireball conjugates with hot dolorous red behind the rapid black arterial branches that reach out to grasp like antiseptic sutures gripping tight on wounded flesh where bark falls slow away from boughs in cool arborial langour creaking onto forest floor the globe glowers alone suspended lonely like a dust mote dancing in a shaft of golden light and yellow fireball sinks toward its fine denouement glowing dragging red and ochre shards like old detritus from a shattered wooden cart the yellow fireball soft departs just like a slow train leaves its platform while the purple and the black flow in so inexorably to claim the vacant space it leaves while myriads of coloured points the sprinkling of a dim and distant host of lights so silently appear and blink in place to stand like sentinels for the greeting of elusive dawn

Steve Wheeler © 22 June, 2023 

Image from Wikimedia Commons by Arne Eide

Read Me A Song!

 Read me a song and I’ll sing you a poem! 

Some folks tend to get confused when I refer to my poems as my songs. What’s the big diff? A bigger nose… smaller toes? All upon the same beautiful body…?

The lines between poetry, literature, and music tend to share the same fabric, only to create different colored clothing for what seems to be the same purpose… expression and entertainment.

Ray Charles was once asked what he liked about country music. He said, “The stories man, the stories!” Isn’t that what poets do? Don’t we write stories as well? Our poems are not linear in terms of chronology, plot, and character development…. yet they do share story characteristics. 

Stories, song lyrics, poems… there’s some bouncy correlations there, are there not?

Then there’s the music itself… expressions of light and shade… crescendos and quiet movements…. communicating emotions with notes that move our spirit and fire our imaginations. Piano concertos, blazing guitar solos, roaring horn sections, ukuleles (yes… ukuleles!!!) … they ALL evoke emotions of some sort! They soothe, excite, dance, reflect cultures… Is that not what poems do?

So why are poems not as popular as pop music or the latest on big time best seller lists? Why are there not coffee houses and auditoriums bursting at the seams with poets singing their songs? Websites and merchandise going into orbit with success and renown poets of golden recognition being knighted and decorated by governments around the world? Is poetry really that underground?

Yes it is.

Then why are you reading this?! 

I have a feeling it’s because you care. You care about words like expression, perspective, and emotion. You long to fire your imagination and stimulate senses beyond the physicality world. You want to be a part of something bigger than most of the drivel you hear on popular radio or read in magazines rife with nonsense about this and nonsense about that. 

You want focus. You want quality. You want diversity. You want POETRY!!!!

Now there is quality music and books out there... There are beautiful manifestations of art in so many forms… sculpture, architecture, even murals extemporaneously spray painted on box cars or on the walls of inner city building…  even to the commissioned immaculate variety. But is poetry? No! 

Poetry represents a valued medium that has every right to be right up there with the popular celebrations of the works of Michelangelo, Mozart, or the Beatles. Bob Dylan’s songs were poetry in themselves, which brings us right back to where we started… what’s the big diff?

For me… there is none.

Please feel free to share your ideas in the comments below. I would LOVE to hear some of your thoughts on this subject! 

More to come…

Matthew Elmore

Cobalt Skies review by Matthew Elmore

 

What makes people read poetry? Is it to express an emotion that they long to find a voice for… or perhaps to find answers to questions they have never asked? Charlene Phare does this and so much more in “Cobalt Skies”, her most recent vision from Wheelsong books.

“Cobalt Skies” represents a reflection of the author’s vivid imagination through many vibrant filters of nature, magic, emotion, sensuality, and wistful wonder. The presentation of an illuminating foreword by brilliant poet Sarfraz Ahmed carries the sail for a beautiful launch into the book.

The prevailing sense of almost celebratory revelation becomes evident as Charlene casts her magical rippling phrases in such brilliant poems as “From The Darkness Came The Light” and “Inner Peace”. Yet she also obfuscates hidden hurts so ironically in works such as “Born Lucky” “Stormy Waters” and “Self Preservation”.

The extensive palette from which Charlene works is one of experience, consistency, and most of all, a most shimmeringly sincere love of people. I once posted a rather tragic poem, to which she messaged me to ask me if I was alright. I have never before or since experienced anything like it, and I have been writing for years. I will never forget that. She genuinely cares about people, which makes them genuinely care about her.

Charlene is not only a poet, but also a group moderator, ambassador for Wheelsong Books, and editor extraordinaire on the past two extraordinary Wheelsong Anthologies. She has a Phare flair for spotting and encouraging poetic talent, which becomes understandable by observing the richness of her textured verse.

Just like her photography, Charlene’s themes and colorful perspectives vary from picture to picture. Forms dance from the very succinct to long form introspections… almost always ending with concise imagery related to the titles of the poems. Her style allows the reader to not only enjoy the joy of expression… but also to dive deeper into layers of contemplations dreamed into a relatable reality by her words.

Take this opening from “Summer Days” for example: 

Snow capped mountains on summer days

Melting moments, drifting away

Glorious sunshine breaking through

Cobalt skies, a brilliant hue

Charlene uses her surroundings to majestically manifest emotions into singing poems that are well worth the price of admission, and then some. Upon completing the end of her book, the only complaint I could possibly have had is that it ended there. I wanted her vision to never end, and once you read “Cobalt Skies”, I honestly believe you will too.

Matt Elmore

You can purchase your copy of Cobalt Skies by Charlene Phare at the Wheelsong Books website.

Nocturne review by Genevieve Ray

Here's a great review of Steve Wheeler's latest publication from Wheelsong Books - Nocturne. The review is written by British poet and performance artist Genevieve Ray. Here's the link to her review. Copies of Nocturne can be purchased on any of the links found on the Wheelsong Books website.

Welcome to the official Wheelsong Books blog

For those just joining us, welcome to the official blog for Wheelsong Books! We are a UK based, independent, not-for-profit publisher of poetry. Founded in 2020 by poet Steve Wheeler, Wheelsong Books publishes collections by new and emerging poets and provides them a platform to gain a voice and raise their profile in the world of poetry. This blog will be curated by Steve and a number of Wheelsong ambassadors - poets chosen to represent Wheelsong from within their communities. Look out for posts from us in the coming months on a number of exciting new initiatives to promote poetry. You can discover more about us on the Wheelsong Books website.

We will regularly update this blog with news, interviews and reviews of all the latest Wheelsong projects and publications. Your comments and feedback are always welcome!

Performance Poetry

I learnt a lot about public presentation through time spent as the front man in several bands that toured during the 70s, 80s and 90s (the image left is me playing at a gig sometime in 1982). Later I learnt more about public speaking through my teaching career, and latterly as a professional speaker on the keynote circuit. I managed to clock up tens of thousands of miles a year as an invited speaker at large events around the world, taking in more than 45 countries. 

There are some key things to remember when you speak or present publicly. It's all based on performance to, and connection with your audience. The same principles apply to poetry performance as they do the playing music or public speaking. 

Here are just a few of the things I learnt:

1) Take your time, don't rush, don't speak too quickly. Do some deep breathing before you start. It lowers your voice and steadies it. 

2) Your audience largely wants you to succeed. Most of them are on your side. The ones that aren't don't actually matter.

3) Start with some humour. Get the audience smiling or laughing. It will lighten the atmosphere.

4) Speak clearly - use pauses - and maintain eye contact with your audience. If there are a lot, then you may need to scan around more, but if you do so, each member of that crowd with think you are speaking to them directly.

5) If it goes wrong. Start again. Make a joke out of it. Use the moment to regroup and ... go again.

6) If someone is stupid enough to heckle you, remember.... you have the stage. You may also have the microphone. Which is more that they have. You can either talk over them until they shut up, or you can wait until they say something that actually makes them look foolish. Then, if you are brutal enough... you can turn it against them. 

7) Finally, don't just read blandly your poem. You have an audience! Perform it to them. Use all your emotion and energy to convey the meaning of your poem to them. People will appreciate it. 

I hope these have helped a little for those doing any live performances of their poetry. Remember, the poetry - if it's good enough - will speak for itself. You will merely be the vehicle in which it arrives. 

Poetry Turing Test

If you've read this blog previously you'll know that I'm both a poet and a computer scientist. Recently I have been researching the alleged capability of OpenAI's ChatGPT to write poetry. Some have expressed concerns that AI will soon replace poets, artists, musicians and other creatives. So I thought I would perform a little experiment. Here's a challenge for you: A sort of poetry Turing Test if you will. Can you tell the difference between a computer generated poem and one written by a human being? 

Earlier today I asked ChatGPT to write a Pantoum about love. I also wrote a Pantoum, based on the same rules of the fixed form poem. Both are below. But which one is the AI generated poem... and which is mine? I welcome all of your comments. 

1: LOVE ON FIRE

Love, a feeling that never fades,

An eternal flame that burns within,

A bond that lasts through all the shades,

A journey that never has an end.

An eternal flame that burns within,

A warmth that spreads from heart to heart,

A journey that never has an end,

A connection that's never torn apart.

A warmth that spreads from heart to heart,

A spark that ignites a fiery passion,

A connection that's never torn apart,

A love that defies all reason.

A spark that ignites a fiery passion,

A bond that lasts through all the shades,

A love that defies all reason,

Love, a feeling that never fades.

2: LOVE ON FIRE

I dream of love that never fades,

Igniting flames that rage like sin,

A fire that warms when cold invades,

Hot furnace, blazing deep within

Igniting flames that rage like sin,

A spark that leaps from heart to heart,

Hot furnace, blazing deep within,

A conflagration work of art.

A spark that leaps from heart to heart,

With embers that can never die

A conflagration work of art,

A love that reaches to the sky

With embers that can never die,

A fire that warms when cold invades,

A love that reaches to the sky,

I dream of love that never fades

Image licenced under Creative Commons

The Power of Immediacy

Back in the day (and I'm talking mid 80s to early 90s) in the pre-internet, pre-smartphone, pre-social media age, life was simple, but everything took so long to accomplish. As a performance poet, I frequented, and sometimes MC'd live poetry events at festivals. I also appeared in several bands, usually accompanied by my trusty axe (the one in this photo is a Gibson Les Paul - a set in the Big Top at Greenbelt Festival 1983). Under clear blue skies, warmed by the summer sun, we would stand on makeshift wooden stages with nothing more than a microphone and a book of poems, and hold forth to whomever was walking by. Sometimes we would garner audiences of up to a thousand people and on one occasion, I managed to blag a spot on the main stage of a major festival and performed in front of over 24 thousand people. Heady days. I wish oh I wish I could remember the names of my fellow festival fringe poets. 

Poets need feedback. All of the feedback we received for our performances and readings was received by our audience in the form of applause and an occasional comment or two. Sometimes people would write to us. I had a few letters and notes from people through the mail appreciating my poetry, and one notable complaint. One person took umbrage about one of the poems I read, called Vegetarian. She herself, she informed me, was a vegetarian, and then proceeded to berate me for the words I had written. I think if the Vegans had landed on the planet by then, she might well have claimed to be one. She was adamant and militant about her vegetarianism. 

In writing, I replied that she might have misunderstood my poetry. I was not sniping against vegetarians, but rather praising their stance, and bemoaning my lack of discipline in my own dietary practices. She replied by return of post, a huge diatribe including several printed sheets of documents that claimed the health benefits of vegetarianism. She had missed the point. Completely. This went on for a few weeks. Back and forth. Her final mail to me was a small package rather than a letter. Must have cost her a fortune to send it through the mail. At this point, I politely wrote back thanking her for her concerns, and wishing her well. This exchange took place over a couple of months. It served to inform me that some people, passionate or not about their beliefs, can sometimes be seriously wrong, but will go to any length to try to prove their point. 

Today of course, in the age of Facebook, Twitter and other social media platforms, anyone can voice their views to anyone else, and regardless of all the drivel, vicious trolling and vacuous spam we receive, there is the power of immediacy. There is nothing quite like live poetry. During my time performing (and I hope I can resurrect that time) I had the pleasure to meet many talented individuals including luminaries such as Stewart Henderson, Steve Turner and the late great Larry Norman - all of whom I consider to be excellent poets leading lights in the poetry world. 

But I spend most of my time now online, either reading live or responding to discussions and comments on Facebook poetry groups such as Pure Poetry and two of my own groups Invisible Poets and Wheelsong Poetry Group. (Join us if you wish.) Some of the content posted is astoundingly good in quality, and I of course join in, sharing my own compositions. The beauty of these groups is that you can gain almost instant feedback on your work. It's often complementary, with an occasional comment about how it can be improved or extended. What would have taken days or even weeks back in the 80s and 90s now takes seconds, and can also be immediate through live chat and messenger systems. Oh how the world of performance poetry has changed!

Steve Wheeler