like baseball poems, beach poems are
Hard to do, ayuh, but worth aspiring to. I sort-of wrote one in April when I stopped in Ogunquit on my way to be with my mom for what would be her final week, but otherwise I have avoided writing poems about my favorite place. It’s tricky to avoid sounding trite, for one thing. And it’s nearly impossible to convey my real connection with the ocean, so it points to my limits as a writer. All of the reasons not to write a beach poem buzz in my head, creating quite a bit of noise.
Luckily, I have just returned from a discussion, led by artist Gail Sauter, at The Barn Gallery about the artist reaching into chaos. One suggestion is to find one thing to focus on. The part of my brain trained in the expressive arts knows that trick and it knows the juice is where discomfort is, but sometimes (too often) the various compartments in my brain fail to talk with one another. The discussion was a good reminder.
It bolstered my courage to write a beach poem from some of the bits that have been wooshing around in my head. It’s called “tide,” and it’s posted at “i am maureen;” if you need the password, leave a note here!