Tag Archives: poem

story of a single brown canadian woman’s body

 

If you have been following the last few posts, then you are aware of the fact that I have been working on some new stuff. Rather, this “new stuff” has become a marker of everything that I now produce, creatively.

I am not sure what opened up the floodgates, but somehow, all the inhibitions I had as a writer have been shed. I am unafraid to be vocal.

And the words… they just keep on coming.

My poem, “story of a single brown canadian woman’s body,” is a part of Media Diversified’s newly launched Tumblr Poetry Series. Some of the issues I extrapolate in the talk in my previous post are evident in this poem, as well. Go see.

Leave a comment

Filed under poetry

Hear ye, hear ye

I will be, ahem, partaking in my first public reading.

Okay, not. The first one I did was an open mike scene in front of a drunken crowd in Kingston back in 2012 during my birthday week. The work I read was “Sublime,” my most popular poem back then.

This reading is different, even though it happens to fall within my birthday month.

I am a guest speaker, for one, accompanying other guest speakers, opening for two book launches for BookThug. And… I have been working on some new stuff the past few months, some personal, raw stuff. Not love poems either. I think I may be beyond that stuff now (love poems, not love). This is the first time I will be unveiling this stuff in public.

So, if you happen to be in the Kitchener-Waterloo area on that veritable day, be there. Or, don’t. Your loss.

What?: Waterloo Joint Launch for Myrmurs by Shannon Maguire, with David Bateman, and The Poison Colour by Maureen Hynes (Pedlar Press).

With guests Emily Bednarz, Maggie Clarke, Phil Miletic, and Sanchari Sur.

Where?: Veritas Cafe, Wilfrid Laurier University Campus, 75 University Avenue,
Waterloo, ON.

When?: Tuesday Nov 3rd 2015. Doors at 7:30 PM. Readings to begin at 8:00 PM.

Free event. Refreshments will be served.

Myrmurs is an innovative variant of the sestina form (a medieval mechanism of desire that spirals around six end words). Connecting medieval textuality to contemporary politics and poetics, this poem explores living systems: cities and languages as self-organizing entities; ants; interspecies entanglements; strange attachments; neocolonialism and how to break free of it. Following on her critically acclaimed debut collection fur(l) parachute (BookThug 2013), this is the second volume in Shannon Maguire’s planned medievalist trilogy.

Myrmurs is an innovative variant of the sestina form (a medieval mechanism of desire that spirals around six end words). Connecting medieval textuality to contemporary politics and poetics, this poem explores living systems: cities and languages as self-organizing entities; ants; interspecies entanglements; strange attachments; neocolonialism and how to break free of it. Following on her critically acclaimed debut collection fur(l) parachute (BookThug 2013), this is the second volume in Shannon Maguire’s planned medievalist trilogy.

Leave a comment

Filed under event

Because anything with an ‘nx’ suffix sounds cool*

*Not my words

I haven’t written a poem about desire in a while. Mostly because the way I think of romantic relationships has changed in the past few years.

I am not a huge fan of panpanani poems of longing. I mean, what is the point of all this longing, that is never ever fulfilled? Stories of unrequited love have dominated pop culture for so long, that we almost forget that love doesn’t have to be difficult. If it is, then it’s really rather pointless.

Love, to me, should ideally exist between mental equals. It should hold some sort of balance, like an infinity symbol (minus the negative connotations associated with its ouroboros avatar), or a yin/yang. It should be an exchange of ideas, of inspiration, of contentment, of stimulating conversations.

Passion and Peace. Coexisting.

That is how I envision love.

Although, in my opinion, any healthy relationship should follow this model. Otherwise, what is the point?

My poem, “Wildlings,” is in The Nervous Breakdown (which is also one of the publications from my Top 30 list!). You can read it here.

2 Comments

Filed under poetry

When Poems come to Roost

venn

I rarely write poetry nowadays.

The last time I wrote a poem, it was for a boy I had just met. He was leaving, I wanted him to have something of me to remember by etc. You know how that story goes. Especially if you are a poet, then you have definitely been in that boat at some point.

Most of my poems are personal. Some of them are political. While others are healing.

And then, there are those that are all three, like that sweet spot in a beautiful Venn diagram.

Two of my poems, “Badaun Sisters” and “Origa-me,” are in The Feminist Wire. You can read them here.

Also(!), The Feminist Wire happens to be one of the publications on my Top 30 list!

2 Comments

Filed under poetry, Writing about writing

Shinjini’s Hazaar Songs

jigsaw

Like some names that linger on your tongue, her name became my albatross. Always synonymous with mine, I knew it as intimately as I knew her.

My own. My beloved. My sister.

So, I tugged and pulled. Broke it into pieces. Put it back together like a puzzle I knew by heart.

And so, she became mine. And, mine alone.

My poem, “Shinjini’s Hazaar Songs,” modeled after my sister’s name (Shinjini) is now in Toasted Cheese Literary Journal’s December issue. It was also workshopped in Carolyn Smart’s class in March earlier this year. You can read it here.

Leave a comment

Filed under poetry

When a Poem Expires

chickenlonelycoupon

There was – well, is. It still exists. – a poem that I wrote a little over two years ago. It was a reactionary poem to an event that sort of tilted my world at the time. Tilted it beyond a rose coloured view. It was a poem that made my insides squirm whenever I read it. It made me uncomfortable as it recalled the event in minute detail. Yes, it was a very uncomfortable poem and an extremely personal one.

The poem found a home in a magazine I admired. After four rejections at other places, this magazine agreed to take it in. I felt as if a poor lost puppy roaming around in the rain had suddenly been offered a home by kind patrons. It warmed my heart. The world would hear my pain.

The magazine sat on it. They sat and sat, and warmed their behinds on it. Other poems were published, but my accepted poem did not see the light of day.

The immediacy of my pain began to fade, as the poem slowly rotted.

I got over that two year old moment and started viewing the world through my kind of negotiated happiness. And even as I personally grew, the poem itself didn’t. It had been stalled before its unveiling. An aging debutante.

I sent several polite inquiries. Se-ve-ral. They were met with silence.

No white noise. No static. Just an unrelenting silence. A void, if you please.

And now, after all this time, the aging puppy has passed away, its memory a stranger.

I should just bury it and move on.

markanderson

4 Comments

Filed under poetry, rant, Thinking Aloud

Sublime, in my voice

public speaking

I am not a performer poet.

Crowds scare the shit out of me.  I forget to enunciate at the right places. I speak too fast. I get nervous. I sweat.

But voicemails are easy. You leave a message. After the beep.

My poem, “Sublime,” is now in Voicemail Poems. You can listen to it here.

It was originally published by Red Poppy Review (now rechristened as Poppy Road Review) in 2011.

1 Comment

Filed under poetry