Feelings are Pure Poetry

Once again a group of primal poets assembled on a rainy afternoon (were there any other kind?) at the IPA Convention to convey our individuality in poetic images. The participants ranged in experience from complete novices to veteran wordsmiths. In one of the exercises, we wrote ten-line (?) poems in ten minutes using (or not using) the words coat, mirror, wash, and drive. Here are some of our outpourings.

Untitled

Waves of doubt wash through my chest
And burst through the narrow passage
     of my throat
To explode across the brain
Numb from years of pounding surf
And relentless tides
Whittling away my drive
And erasing the passion
Of my youth

Sam Addington

Drive, Coat, Mirror and Wash

irregardless
of the preposterous urge
the twelfth knight
coated with amor
an amorphous amoré
yet seamed, loveless coat of armor
begotten from
cold-washed
high-strung
wretched exasperation
of yesteryear
yet again yearned into existence
may I ask this Night
its purpose
in proposing darkness?
to the dayless
and all day-dreamed out
I confront
the affronting mirror
washing the Story
from my relieved face
and free from the drive
to be Something
something more
than Is

Devan

Here at IPA

And so I'm here
The drive was short
and clear
I look to the raindrops
to wash away
my fears
My mirror
says I'm ready
to work on issues
kept silent for
months
But my coat
hangs on its
hanger
summoning
me to run

Michele Del Gesso

Infant Sexual Abuse

She thought she could get away with it,
But I knew better.
Dark was the proposition,
Silent was the execution.
Blood splattered my coat,
No matter.
Smashed the mirror,
For good measure.
Washed my hands,
Forever.

Anonymous

It Takes Ten Men

I am rising above myself
Because you raise me up:
You mirror my beauty
In your grin, in your drive
To create yourself.
Your breath washes away demons,
Those gnarly beasts clamping my ankles
In their jaws. I coat you with kisses
As I float free on your fingertips.

Harriet Geller

Today (8/28/02)

Today I drive . . . I drive any place that will let me be me.
Today I am angry . . . I am angry because they allowed you to die
Today I can't stand to look in the mirror for the disappointment I am afraid to face.
In 14 days I will not be able to watch TV, for what happened a year ago that day.
Today I want to wash over the anger and the pain from the loss I was made to endure that day.
Today I am me, just a girl out there, going to do a job that I know might take my life one day.
Today I know that my drive to anyplace would be a space that would not heal the hurt or the pain.
Today . . . is the first day of the rest of my life.

Kate Buckley

This article appeared in the Fall 2002 IPA Newsletter.