Feeling the first of the many seasons of a poetry journey
A look at the year that has come with exciting collaborations, new learnings and letting go of old systems
āA poem canāt free us from the struggle of existence, but it can uncover desires and appetites buried under the accumulating emergencies of our lives, the fabricated wants and needs we have had urged upon us, have accepted as our own.ā - Feminist essayist and poet Adrienne Rich.
For sometime now, poetry writing has been a stalling experience for me. I have written verses, long passages (attempted ballads even) but none of them have soared. While this has not stopped me from performing poetry, thanks to my wonderful collaborators, Iāve taken upon opportunities to hold a mic and share my pieces. Iāve tapped into my managerial, research, ideation skills to co-produced performances. But when there isnāt a show, the poetās muse has been in hiding.
When I first began reading my pieces to an audience, the reason for it was rather simple, that is to read what Iād been writing for many years. In some ways, I was simply reading out to myself. It was cathartic. And gradually so, I found an audience that accompanied me in those moments together. The stage became a place of respite, exactly what I needed amid an intense and draining full-time job.
I was writing poems during lunch breaks, on bus rides to work, while boiling pasta for dinner. The urgency to write was met with the urgency brought by the lack of time. It was the espresso shot that my mind needed to make verses find their way onto the page.
As I gradually remove that espresso shot from my routine, unsurprisingly then, not much poetry has emerged. Itās been a curious practice to sit, write and watch my words fail spectacularly.
When I now sit to write poetry, I am sitting to build a practice that is not a rushed-hour endeavour. It neednāt happen on trains and buses, in the office pantry or before leaving for work. I am imagining it to happen as my response to life and its myriad unfoldings.
To write poetry from a place of abundance than depravity, Iām realising requires new visions and a commitment to examine life more closely - sometimes at the cost of uncomfortable realisations.
Earlier this week, I had signed up for a poetry slot at one of Singaporeās open-mic stages. The day I was due to perform, my fatherās childhood friend and a beloved Uncle passed away. While, I had been looking forward to performing, his passing brought a sense of loss which I knew would impact my performance. Because a piece born out of joy simply couldnāt arise from a body experiencing sadness and possible grief.
To be able to perform is an act of love that the audience accords to the poet. It is in their listening that a stage poet feels heard. It is in their finger snaps that a sense of community arrives. It only made sense to be honest to that community and not perform my way out of it.
āPoetry is the way we help give name to the nameless so it can be thought. The farthest external horizons of our hopes and fears are cobbled by our poems, carved from the rock experiences of our daily lives.ā - Feminist writer and poet Audre Lorde
What does a poem do to me and why must a certain feeling / experience find expression over another? Beneath the feeling, am I willing to uncover the truth? Is it aiding me in understanding the truth better? If yes, why that experience? Why that, again and again?
I do not take this craft lightly. Because this craft has not done so. It holds me when other things fail, but in its absence it is invoking me to observe myself and the world around me better. It is asking me to educate my senses better. This autumn comes with its decline and harvest.
āFor womenā¦poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence. It forms the quality of the light within which we predicate our hopes and dreams toward survival and change, first made into language, then into idea, then into more tangible action.ā - Audre Lorde
In August, I competed for the first time at Singaporeās Grand Poetry Tournament. And during the course of collaborating with two exceptional poets (Cara Ow and Jennifer Anne Champion), I learnt tremendously about the craft, collaboration, melding our styles to produce a piece of performance art. Our calls were filled with ideas, aspirations and reality-checks. We knitted the understanding of ābeing a witchā across centuries and what women go through until today as a result of being accused as witches. The result of this collaboration was the performance titled āThe Trialā.
To write a poem that acts as a witness and advocate of oneās life, is a pressing need with which I hold the pen. But my tightened grip perhaps needs to loosen, without losing the pen. A wilful submission to the craft, means a wilful submission to time and with it, its many seasons. Until then, I will follow my dear friend, Jenniferās belief to not use poems as āfast fashionā.
Mariyam Haider is a Singapore-based writer, podcast host and spoken word artist producing works on feminism, culture and society. Her writing has appeared in Scroll, Kontinentalist, Asian Review of Books, Centre for Feminist Foreign Policy, AWARE, Livemint, Mekong Review, among others.
Her Grand Poetry Tournament performance along with other artistsā is available at Poetry.sgās YouTube channel. You can follow Mariyamās work on Instagram or LinkedIn, or reach out to her for collaborations.
References:
Age, Race, Class, and Sex: Women Redefining Difference (Sister Outsider, Audre Lorde) (Penguin Modern Classics, 2019)
Essential Essays Culture, Politics, and the Art of Poetry by Adrienne Rich (W. W. Norton & Company; 1st edition, 2018)