How Poetry Found Me
By Clem Schoenebeck
Introduction
“To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.”
This quote by English poet Robert Graves (1895-1985) refers to a "condition." In the realm of poetry, there is a library full of memorable poems that reflect emotions instilled by "conditions." HELEN is delighted to share with you some poems that were penned to demonstrate the power of words in trying to understand, cope and accept "conditions."
Dale Kusher (Psychology Today, April 2023) shares her observations on poetry as an elixir—The Healing Power of Poetry: Appreciating a Primal Pleasure
"Poetry reconnects us with the beauty and goodness of the world, while also naming its difficulties. Rather than dismissing hardships, poetry calls them out and reminds us that others have also lost a loved one, experienced disappointments, endured sleeplessness, lived with depression—have suffered as we now suffer. Poetry allows us to identify our personal turbulences, breaks our feeling of isolation, and affirms our sense of belonging. Poetry steers us toward wisdom and acceptance." (Rick Rader, MD)
It did not stalk or pursue me, nor was I hiding from it. Poetry came to me when I was most vulnerable. Moments after her birth, I saw my first grandchild cradled in my daughter's arms. Swaddled in a white wrap, pink cap on her head, Alexa was staring into her mother's eyes with such intensity that nothing would come between them.
These words came to me, mysterious, resonant and clear: They have been here forever.
Bonnie and I drove home on that chill December night. Christmas lights glowed bright and white around the perimeter of Salem Common. The stars shimmered with such clarity that I felt I could reach up and pick them right out of the dark night. I could easily read the obediently arranged constellations. For that moment, the North Star was mine.
I did the only thing I could do. I went home and picked up my pen.
I wrote a letter of welcome for my granddaughter, a Christmas present for her mother. Throbbing with good will and newly inspired love, my words blurred the page with emotion. But I'd penned enough meaningful imagery and truth that my wife and daughter said to me, "Pay attention."
I paid attention. I read Mary Oliver's Rules for the Dance. I attended lectures and signed up for Jeanette Maes' workshops. I was captivated by Bill Moyers' popular TV series, The Language of Life. I learned that poetry did not have to be garbed in academic robes and recited from a lofty ivory tower. It could be a shared conversation made meaningful by
carefully arranged words, moving forward by the momentum of its own rhythm. My friend Dennis Must, an award-winning writer, mentored me in my early writing. He encouraged me to share my words.
My earliest poems were submitted to The Aurorean. The publisher has always been supportive of new writers. I will never forget the thrill of seeing my own work between the covers of a respected poetry journal. Cynthia Vincent's encouragement lit up the path to my own creativity.
Now I do the only thing I can do. I keep my pen full and look for the next poem.
About How he Listens
Dr. Wistran was my cardiologist. I was always deeply impressed by how attentive he was when listening to my heart. His dedication always reflected how much he cared. Such a commitment was part of the healing process for me.
HOW HE LISTENS
Dan’s stethoscope
tethers my heart
to his vigilant ear.
He is Doctor Beethoven,
hearing horn at my chest,
probing the stretched sound
of a violin string, too tightly wound.
He leans toward me, contemplates
the tympanic drumming
of his fingers on my back.
He’s in a meditation, mantra’d
by the voices of teachers,
past and present.
I think he can hear
the celestial whoosh
of a shooting star,
threading its glowing tail
through Orion’s soul.
Can he hear sunset’s alchemy,
the fading silver of day
blushing into evening’s gold?
He attends like Robert Frost,
ear keen for flowing meter,
the beat in rhythmic accent,
the just-right rhyming of it all.
He heals me,
how he listens.
Listens, with his heart...
(For Daniel Wistran, MD)
Dan River Anthology 2002
—
About Parkinson’s.
This poem is dedicated to two dear friends who were diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. My poem was basically a prayer, wishing for the best possible life for Dan and Eph, under such unfortunate circumstances.
PARKINSON’S
The Uninvited has found you,
trapped you in its rigid embrace.
May you walk from it, be welcomed
in a celebration of sunlight, shining
with daisies, cathedrals of lupine,
purple spikes lifting light to you.
May you glow in it.
And when your balance
tilts you and wobbles your step,
may you dance with it,
waltz to your own cadence,
in steps of your own invention.
May you go with it.
May your tremor, when it comes,
cause great quaking in your demons,
topple all obstacles in your path.
May it ripple the water.
May you surf the wave's crest.
May you flow with it.
(for Dan and Ephraim)
Parkinson's Magazine, 2010
About the Author
Clemens Carl Schoenebeck is an accomplished writer and poet who published his collected poetry in his new book, "Where the Time Went: Poems at Eighty."