Changing Course

 

After much thought over a long period of time, I have come to the sad conclusion that, as a poet, I have nothing more to say through my work.

I realize that the majority of people I wished to reach do not care about poetry in general, and certainly mine in particular. 

Except for a very limited group of like-minded poets who truly value the craft, inspiration, and perseverance needed to write, revise, and polish a formal, metrical poem from its initial draft to seeing it published, my books and individual poems seem to be little more than short-lived scraps of joy. A successful hobby at best. A waste of time and energy at worst.

No. One. Cares. And I shouldn't, and from now on will not care that the poetry Powers-That-Be and the general reader don't care. I did  my best. There is no market for Catherine Chandler's poetry. There. I've written it. So be it.

On this blog, which I began before my first full length trade poetry collection was published by Able Muse Press, and when it was shortlisted for the Poets' Prize, I posted poems, reviews of my books, and other content. I was buoyed by the wonderful reviews my work received from eminent poets. I was over the moon when I won the prestigious Richard Wilbur Book Award and the Howard Nemerov Sonnet Award.

I had so much to say through my poems: nature, philosophy, personal defining events in my life, hoping others who have lived through some of these types of events would somehow be able to relate to them, and perhaps find some comfort, or at least nod in understanding.

It was bad enough discovering the popularity of the likes of Rupi Kaur and her ilk, and now AI can be asked to write a Petrarchan, Shakespearean or Spenserian sonnet and, voilà, less than a minute later, one appears on the screen. Horrible, of course, but probably not so bad to some.

I am tired. My heart is broken.

So tired of sailing against the wind. I have just turned seventy-five, and although I have been writing poetry since the age of eleven in the stifling attic of my childhood home, I was only able to give my full energy to it when my children were grown, and then upon my retirement at the age of 60 in 2010, the year I designed this blog.

The Wonderful Boat needs to change her course. She will now sail into the sunset peacefully, with a hold of beautiful poetry, back to home port, where I will either scuttle her, or leave her in dry dock until such time (if ever) as the winds of change alter in favor of classical elegance, eloquence, and craft.

As the poet Delmira Agustini wrote in her poem "La Barca Milagrosa" which inspired the idea for this blog (you can read the English translation on the blog front page), Yo ya muero de vivir y soñar...

 

Catherine Chandler