Poetic inspiration, to counteract these dark times

While editing a friend’s poem a few weeks ago, two sources of inspiration came to mind. They don’t necessarily have anything to do with the content of the poem I was working on, but sometimes things remind me of things that remind me of other things — and so on and so on.

The first is a lovely piece by the poet Ada Limón, who was the Poet Laureate of the United States in 2022.

The second is a song by Peter Murphy from his 1992 album Holy Smoke — there are a lot of verses so I posted excerpts. That song just punches me hard right in the heart every time I listen to it.

Calling Things What They Are

By Ada Limón

I pass the feeder and yell, Grackle party! And then an hour later I yell, Mourning dove afterparty! (I call the feeder the party and the seed on the ground the afterparty.) I am getting so good at watching that I’ve even dug out the binoculars an old poet gave me back when I was young and heading to the Cape with so much future ahead of me it was like my own ocean. Tufted titmouse! I yell, and Lucas laughs and says, Thought so. But he is humoring me; he didn’t think so at all. My father does this same thing. Shouts out at the feeder announcing the party attendees. He throws out a whole peanut or two to the Stellar’s jay who visits on a low oak branch in the morning. To think there was a time I thought birds were kind of boring. Brown bird. Gray bird. Black bird. Blah blah blah bird. Then, I started to learn their names by the ocean, and the person I was dating said, That’s the problem with you, Limón, you’re all fauna and no flora. And I began to learn the names of trees. I like to call things as they are. Before, the only thing I was interested in was love, how it grips you, how it terrifies you, how it annihilates and resuscitates you. I didn’t know then that it wasn’t even love that I was interested in, but my own suffering. I thought suffering kept things interesting. How funny that I called it love and the whole time it was pain.

Dream Gone By

By Peter Murphy

Let go all the tears of your life, the one you left behind
Let the pain of the dream go by, it’s over
The love is calling, I’m searching
You have gone to be free

The love is calling, I’m searching
You have gone to be free
When the light had gone and the night was over
Yet the feeling will still exist, for you and me

Let go all the tears of your life the one you left behind
Let the pain of the dream go by, it’s over
Oh, and as you fly past the sign that points to our way
Send your children a whispered song, then allow yourself away

The love is calling, I’m searching
You have gone to be free
When the light had gone and the night was over
Yet the feeling will still exist, for you and me