*The images in this
specific piece are granted copyright privilege by: Public Domain, CCSAL,
GNU Free Documentation Licenses, Fair Use Under The United States Copyright
Law, or given copyright privilege by the copyright holder which is identified
beneath the individual photo.
**Some of the links will
have to be copied and then posted in your search engine in order to pull up
properly
*** The CRC Blog
welcomes submissions from published and unpublished poets for BACKSTORY OF THE
POEM series. Contact CRC Blog via email
at caccoop@aol.com or personal Facebook messaging at https://www.facebook.com/car.cooper.7
***This is #115 in the never-ending series called BACKSTORY
OF THE POEM where the Chris Rice Cooper Blog (CRC) focuses on one
specific poem and how the poet wrote that specific poem. All BACKSTORY
OF THE POEM links are at the end of this piece.
#115 Backstory
of the Poem
“Because
the Birds Will Survive, Too”
by
Katherine Riegel
But I feed the birds in our backyard, and
we’re right up against a bit of wild land next to a river, so we get a lovely
variety. I saw the birds going about their daily business, opening and eating
the sunflower seeds from the feeder, and I thought, well, what if I wrote a
hopeful apocalyptic poem? What if I told myself what I need to hear, but from
the other side?
Where were you when you started to
actually write the poem? And please describe the place in great detail. I was sitting at the
breakfast nook table, at home. It’s a small wooden table with small wooden
chairs, the hardness of which can help me stay wakeful (I’m not a morning
person, but I like to write first so I don’t put it off).
I was facing the back
yard, looking through big windows, with a bird feeding station right in front
of me holding sunflower seeds in a tube hopper and mixed nuts in a platform
feeder.
Behind me was the kitchen, and beside me a cup of Yorkshire tea with
sugar and half-and-half (real Brits, like my husband, take their tea with milk,
but I like half-and-half just a little better). Gray light came through the
window.
What month and year did you start writing this poem? I’m going to guess November, 2017. Or perhaps October.
How many drafts of this poem did you write before going to the final? (And can you share a photograph of your rough drafts with pen markings on it?) I usually write first drafts right on my laptop, so there are generally no pen markings until I get to the manuscript stage.
The first draft often comes
quickly, in 30-60 minutes. I don’t have any stanza breaks at first, so that’s
one of the things I go back to look at after the first draft is complete. I’ll
also do little fiddling with line breaks and phrases that could be re-worded
for concision—in prose and in talking I tend to fill things up with “of course”
and explanatory words, and sometimes those sneak into the poems.
If I make large changes, like cutting a stanza or changing the ending, I copy the poem and put it lower down in my document, so if I decide to go back to the original, I have it. I looked for this “draft” on my computer and couldn’t find it, so I suspect I didn’t make any major changes from beginning to end.
I do remember being pretty happy with the ending, which is often the big place I revise. My process often then is to leave the poem alone until I start putting together my manuscript, at which point I do more cutting if I can find anything to cut, and change titles so they’re not too redundant in the book. So alas, no earlier versions of the poem exist, though that’s not unusual for me.
What month and year did you start writing this poem? I’m going to guess November, 2017. Or perhaps October.
How many drafts of this poem did you write before going to the final? (And can you share a photograph of your rough drafts with pen markings on it?) I usually write first drafts right on my laptop, so there are generally no pen markings until I get to the manuscript stage.
If I make large changes, like cutting a stanza or changing the ending, I copy the poem and put it lower down in my document, so if I decide to go back to the original, I have it. I looked for this “draft” on my computer and couldn’t find it, so I suspect I didn’t make any major changes from beginning to end.
I do remember being pretty happy with the ending, which is often the big place I revise. My process often then is to leave the poem alone until I start putting together my manuscript, at which point I do more cutting if I can find anything to cut, and change titles so they’re not too redundant in the book. So alas, no earlier versions of the poem exist, though that’s not unusual for me.
Were there any lines in any of your
rough drafts of this poem that were not in the final version? And can you share
them with us? The main difference I know for sure between the first draft and this one
is that there were originally no stanza breaks. I do write line breaks in a
first draft, but never stanza breaks until the whole thing is there to work
with.
What do you want readers of this poem to take from this poem? Hope, I guess. That though things in their personal as well as public lives will inevitably fall apart—something that often feels like apocalypse, or at least catastrophe—there will be things worth living for: birds, for one. Also pets (Right: Katherine's cat), who tend to get the raw end of the deal in both literary and apocalyptic writing.
What do you want readers of this poem to take from this poem? Hope, I guess. That though things in their personal as well as public lives will inevitably fall apart—something that often feels like apocalypse, or at least catastrophe—there will be things worth living for: birds, for one. Also pets (Right: Katherine's cat), who tend to get the raw end of the deal in both literary and apocalyptic writing.
Which part of the poem was the most
emotional of you to write and why? Probably these lines: “…will you,
personally,/watch the parts of yourself/take leave of each other/and trudge
down unknown//paths?” Major life events do that to you—it’s almost like walking
away from parts of yourself, and though it’s been about five years now, I
experienced the end of a marriage and the end of a teaching career that hadn’t
worked out the way I wanted in close succession. I still struggle with the
different selves I have been, could have been, could still be, and am now.
Has this poem been published before? And if so where? Yes. I was lucky enough to have it appear in Kettle Blue Review (https://www.kettle
bluereview.com/
contributors-issue51) in the spring of 2018. It’s also in my forthcoming book, Love Songs from the End of the World, which is available now for pre-order from Main Street Rag Publishing (https://mainstreet
ragbookstore.com/product/
love-songs-from-the-end-of-the-world-katherine-riegel/)
Has this poem been published before? And if so where? Yes. I was lucky enough to have it appear in Kettle Blue Review (https://www.kettle
bluereview.com/
contributors-issue51) in the spring of 2018. It’s also in my forthcoming book, Love Songs from the End of the World, which is available now for pre-order from Main Street Rag Publishing (https://mainstreet
ragbookstore.com/product/
love-songs-from-the-end-of-the-world-katherine-riegel/)
Anything you would like to add? I
read a lot of science fiction as a kid—and still read it sometimes—so I’m very
interested in apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic literature. Not the clichés of
roving gangs on motorcycles, but the realities of life during and after
cataclysmic change. The thing that scares me most as an adult is that the folks
in power don’t seem to have read any of the same books, so they’re walking
right into the same mistakes we’ve been warned about for decades. I think I
wrote this poem as a personal mantra, words to say—even if I don’t always
believe them—when I am afraid.
Because the Birds Will Survive, Too
I’m writing to you from after
the end of the world,
after apocalypse,
after the breakdown
of what we once knew.
I am writing to tell you
it is possible to survive.
We didn’t all come back:
that is not possible.
Some of us hid
and popped out again
from holes as deep
as the sky. Some of us
learned to grow sustenance
in our backyards, once
the provinces of lawnmowers.
We kept our pets—
I know that is worrying you
but we had to love
more, sometimes,
than we had to live.
You don’t know yet
what type of explosion
I am talking about:
will you, personally,
watch the parts of yourself
take leave of each other
and trudge down unknown
paths? Will the land itself
break apart, crack into
tree-swallowing fissures,
mouths you nightmare about?
I’m telling you yes.
I’m telling you live.
Katherine Riegel is the author of Love
Songs from the End of the World (forthcoming from Main Street Rag
Publishing in fall 2019 but available NOW for pre-order), the chapbook Letters
to Colin Firth, and two more books of poetry. Her work has appeared in The Gettysburg Review, The Offing, Orion,
Poets.org, Tin House, and elsewhere. She is co-founder and poetry editor
for Sweet Lit, and teaches
independent online classes in poetry and creative nonfiction.
BACKSTORY OF THE POEM
LINKS
001 December 29, 2017
Margo
Berdeshevksy’s “12-24”
002 January 08, 2018
Alexis
Rhone Fancher’s “82 Miles From the Beach, We Order The Lobster At Clear Lake
Café”
003 January 12, 2018
Barbara
Crooker’s “Orange”
004 January 22, 2018
Sonia
Saikaley’s “Modern Matsushima”
005 January 29, 2018
Ellen
Foos’s “Side Yard”
006 February 03, 2018
Susan
Sundwall’s “The Ringmaster”
007 February 09, 2018
Leslea
Newman’s “That Night”
008 February 17, 2018
Alexis
Rhone Fancher “June Fairchild Isn’t Dead”
009 February 24, 2018
Charles
Clifford Brooks III “The Gift of the Year With Granny”
010 March 03, 2018
Scott
Thomas Outlar’s “The Natural Reflection of Your Palms”
011 March 10, 2018
Anya
Francesca Jenkins’s “After Diane Beatty’s Photograph “History Abandoned”
012 March 17, 2018
Angela
Narciso Torres’s “What I Learned This Week”
013 March 24, 2018
Jan
Steckel’s “Holiday On ICE”
014 March 31, 2018
Ibrahim
Honjo’s “Colors”
015 April 14, 2018
Marilyn
Kallett’s “Ode to Disappointment”
016 April 27, 2018
Beth
Copeland’s “Reliquary”
017 May 12, 2018
Marlon
L Fick’s “The Swallows of Barcelona”
018 May 25, 2018
Juliet
Cook’s “ARTERIAL DISCOMBOBULATION”
019 June 09, 2018
Alexis
Rhone Fancher’s “Stiletto Killer. . . A Surmise”
020 June 16, 2018
Charles
Rammelkamp’s “At Last I Can Start Suffering”
021 July 05, 2018
Marla
Shaw O’Neill’s “Wind Chimes”
022 July 13, 2018
Julia Gordon-Bramer’s
“Studying Ariel”
023 July 20, 2018
Bill Yarrow’s “Jesus
Zombie”
024 July 27, 2018
Telaina Eriksen’s “Brag
2016”
025 August 01, 2018
Seth Berg’s “It is only
Yourself that Bends – so Wake up!”
026 August 07, 2018
David Herrle’s “Devil In
the Details”
027 August 13, 2018
Gloria Mindock’s “Carmen
Polo, Lady Necklaces, 2017”
028 August 21, 2018
Connie Post’s “Two
Deaths”
029 August 30, 2018
Mary Harwell Sayler’s
“Faces in a Crowd”
030 September 16, 2018
Larry Jaffe’s “The
Risking Point”
031 September 24,
2018
Mark Lee Webb’s “After
We Drove”
032 October 04, 2018
Melissa Studdard’s
“Astral”
033 October 13, 2018
Robert Craven’s “I Have
A Bass Guitar Called Vanessa”
034 October 17, 2018
David Sullivan’s “Paper Mache
Peaches of Heaven”
035 October 23, 2018
Timothy Gager’s
“Sobriety”
036 October 30, 2018
Gary Glauber’s “The
Second Breakfast”
037 November 04, 2018
Heather Forbes-McKeon’s
“Melania’s Deaf Tone Jacket”
038 November 11, 2018
Andrena Zawinski’s
“Women of the Fields”
039 November 00, 2018
Gordon Hilger’s “Poe”
040 November 16, 2018
Rita Quillen’s “My
Children Question Me About Poetry” and “Deathbed Dreams”
041 November 20, 2018
Jonathan Kevin Rice’s
“Dog Sitting”
042 November 22, 2018
Haroldo Barbosa Filho’s
“Mountain”
043 November 27, 2018
Megan Merchant’s “Grief Flowers”
044 November 30, 2018
Jonathan P Taylor’s
“This poem is too neat”
045 December 03, 2018
Ian Haight’s “Sungmyo
for our Dead Father-in-Law”
046 December 06, 2018
Nancy Dafoe’s “Poem in
the Throat”
047 December 11, 2018
Jeffrey Pearson’s “Memorial
Day”
048 December 14, 2018
Frank Paino’s “Laika”
049 December 15, 2018
Jennifer Martelli’s
“Anniversary”
O50 December 19, 2018
Joseph Ross’s “For Gilberto Ramos, 15, Who Died in
the Texas Desert, June 2014”
051 December 23, 2018
“The Persistence of
Music”
by Anatoly Molotkov
052 December 27, 2018
“Under Surveillance”
by Michael Farry
053 December 28, 2018
“Grand Finale”
by Renuka Raghavan
054 December 29, 2018
“Aftermath”
by Gene Barry
055 January 2, 2019
“&”
by Larissa Shmailo
056 January 7, 2019
“The Seamstress:
by Len Kuntz
057 January 10, 2019
"Natural History"
by Camille T Dungy
058 January 11, 2019
“BLOCKADE”
by Brian Burmeister
059 January 12, 2019
“Lost”
by Clint Margrave
060 January 14, 2019
“Menopause”
by Pat Durmon
061 January 19, 2019
“Neptune’s Choir”
by Linda Imbler
062 January 22, 2019
“Views From the
Driveway”
by Amy Barone
063 January 25, 2019
“The heron leaves her
haunts in the marsh”
by Gail Wronsky
064 January 30, 2019
“Shiprock”
by Terry Lucas
065 February 02, 2019
“Summer 1970, The
University of Virginia Opens to Women in the Fall”
by Alarie Tennille
066 February 05, 2019
“At School They Learn
Nouns”
by Patrick Bizzaro
067 February 06, 2019
“I Must Not Breathe”
by Angela Jackson-Brown
068 February 11, 2019
“Lunch on City Island,
Early June”
by Christine Potter
069 February 12, 2019
“Singing”
by Andrew McFadyen-Ketchum
070 February 14, 2019
“Daily Commute”
by Christopher P. Locke
071 February 18, 2019
“How Silent The Trees”
by Wyn Cooper
072 February 20, 2019
“A New Psalm
of Montreal”
by Sheenagh Pugh
073 February 23, 2019
“Make Me A
Butterfly”
by Amy Barbera
074 February 26, 2019
“Anthem”
by Sandy Coomer
075 March 4, 2019
“Shape of a Violin”
by Kelly Powell
076 March 5, 2019
“Inward Oracle”
by J.P. Dancing Bear
077 March 7, 2019
“I Broke
My Bust Of Jesus”
by Susan Sundwall
078 March 9, 2019
“My Mother
at 19”
by John Guzlowski
079 March 10, 2019
“Paddling”
by Chera Hammons Miller
080 March 12, 2019
“Of Water
and Echo”
by Gillian Cummings
081 082
083 March 14, 2019
“Little
Political Sense” “Crossing Kansas with
Jim
Morrison” “The Land of Sky and Blue Waters”
by Dr. Lindsey
Martin-Bowen
084 March 15, 2019
“A Tune To
Remember”
by Anna Evans
085 March 19, 2019
“At the
End of Time (Wish You Were Here)
by Jeannine Hall Gailey
086 March 20, 2019
“Garden of
Gethsemane”
by Marletta Hemphill
087 March 21, 2019
“Letters
From a War”
by Chelsea Dingman
088 March 26, 2019
“HAT”
by Bob Heman
089 March 27, 2019
“Clay for
the Potter”
by Belinda Bourgeois
#090 March 30, 2019
“The Pose”
by John Hicks
#091 April 2, 2019
“Last
Night at the Wursthaus”
by Doug Holder
#092 April 4, 2019
“Original
Sin”
by Diane Lockward
#093 April 5, 2019
“A Father
Calls to his child on liveleak”
by Stephen Byrne
#094 April 8, 2019
“XX”
by Marc Zegans
#095 April 12, 2019
“Landscape
and Still Life”
by Marjorie Maddox
#096 April 16, 2019
“Strawberries
Have Been Growing Here for Hundreds of
Years”
by Mary Ellen Lough
#097 April 17, 2019
“The New
Science of Slippery Surfaces”
by Donna Spruijt-Metz
#098 April 19, 2019
“Tennessee
Epithalamium”
by Alyse Knorr
#099 April 20, 2019
“Mermaid,
1969”
by Tameca L. Coleman
#100 April 21, 2019
“How Do
You Know?”
by Stephanie
#101 April 23, 2019
“Rare Book
and Reader”
by Ned Balbo
#102 April 26, 2019
“THUNDER”
by Jefferson Carter
#103 May 01, 2019
“The sight
of a million angels”
by Jenneth Graser
#104 May 09, 2019
“How to
tell my dog I’m dying”
by Richard Fox
#105 May 17, 2019
“Promises
Had Been Made”
by Sarah Sarai
#106 June 01, 2019
“i sold
your car today”
by Pamela Twining
#107 June 02, 2019
“Abandoned
Stable”
by Nancy Susanna Breen
#108 June 05, 2019
“Cupcake”
by Julene Tripp Weaver
#109 June 6, 2019
“Bobby’s
Story”
by Jimmy Pappas
#110 June 10, 2019
“When You
Ask Me to Tell You About My Father”
by Pauletta Hansel
#111 Backstory of the
Poem’s
“Cemetery
Mailbox”
by Jennifer Horne
#112 Backstory of the Poem’s
“Relics”
by Kate Peper
#113 Backstory of the
Poem’s
“Q”
by Jennifer Johnson
#114 Backstory of the
Poem’s
“Brushing My Hair”
by Tammika Dorsey Jones
#115 Backstory of the
Poem
“Because the Birds Will
Survive, Too”
by Katherine Riegel
http://chrisricecooper.blogspot.com/2019/06/115-backstory-of-poem-because-birds.html
http://chrisricecooper.blogspot.com/2019/06/115-backstory-of-poem-because-birds.html
No comments:
Post a Comment