Oh, absolutely it does. But it doesn't have to be a one-to-one ratio.
I know exactly what day I was referencing when I wrote that poem. But it didn't happen the way I wrote it ... except that now, why, yes, I believe it did.
Thanks for reminding us of the unique way poetry lies, both in a liminal space and at an intersection of all our life and words. I especially love that you connected it to Pooh. I have such a soft spot for that "Bear of Very Little Brain." I have an orphaned essay in my folder that is the start of a tribute to him and what he has taught me. I hope I have time this summer to dust it off and finish it.
Oh I love Pooh so much-- my oldest daughter was quite Pooh obsessed and when she was two we read our way through the hardcover combined volume from front to back more times than I can count, every day at nap time for more than a year.
And yes "you did it, Piglet, because the poetry says you did," that is a perfect pronouncement about poetry that I have pondered before. It also reminds me of what Ted Kooser says in his book The Triggering Town:
"Contrary to what reviewers and critics say about my work, I know almost nothing of substance about the places that trigger my poems. Knowing can be a limiting thing. If the population of a town is nineteen, but the poem needs the sound seventeen, seventeen is easier to say if you don't know the population. Guessing leaves you more options.
[ . . . ]
The poet's relation to the triggering subject should never be as strong as (must be weaker than) his relation to his words. The words should not serve the subject. The subject should serve the words. This may mean violating the facts. For example, if the poem needs the word "black" at some point and the grain elevator is yellow, the grain elevator may have to be black in the poem. You owe reality nothing and the truth about your feelings everything."
I like Kooser's elucidation of the point, but I think Milne says it perfectly through Pooh's voice.
Megan, what a weaving of words. Wow. (and the memory/memoir part seeps in nonetheless, eh?)
Oh, absolutely it does. But it doesn't have to be a one-to-one ratio.
I know exactly what day I was referencing when I wrote that poem. But it didn't happen the way I wrote it ... except that now, why, yes, I believe it did.
Thanks for reminding us of the unique way poetry lies, both in a liminal space and at an intersection of all our life and words. I especially love that you connected it to Pooh. I have such a soft spot for that "Bear of Very Little Brain." I have an orphaned essay in my folder that is the start of a tribute to him and what he has taught me. I hope I have time this summer to dust it off and finish it.
Thank you for noticing and articulating that so well, Kellie.
And I love him too, but only in the original stories. I think my sense of humor is thoroughly British.
Thanks for creating an image of what forgiveness can look like.
Oh I love Pooh so much-- my oldest daughter was quite Pooh obsessed and when she was two we read our way through the hardcover combined volume from front to back more times than I can count, every day at nap time for more than a year.
And yes "you did it, Piglet, because the poetry says you did," that is a perfect pronouncement about poetry that I have pondered before. It also reminds me of what Ted Kooser says in his book The Triggering Town:
"Contrary to what reviewers and critics say about my work, I know almost nothing of substance about the places that trigger my poems. Knowing can be a limiting thing. If the population of a town is nineteen, but the poem needs the sound seventeen, seventeen is easier to say if you don't know the population. Guessing leaves you more options.
[ . . . ]
The poet's relation to the triggering subject should never be as strong as (must be weaker than) his relation to his words. The words should not serve the subject. The subject should serve the words. This may mean violating the facts. For example, if the poem needs the word "black" at some point and the grain elevator is yellow, the grain elevator may have to be black in the poem. You owe reality nothing and the truth about your feelings everything."
I like Kooser's elucidation of the point, but I think Milne says it perfectly through Pooh's voice.