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Keith Nystrom is rumored to be a computer professional by day. Behind this Keith, a New Englander, has lived in the Boston area for the past ten years. The 1992 National Poetry Slam championship was the impetus that compelled Keith to write poetry. Currently, he reads his poems at the Cantab Lounge in Cambridge, the venue that continues to have a considerable effect on Keith and the poetry he graces us with. His credits include Four Poets, Work Among Friends, a compilation of poetry by Keith, Irene Koronas, Ron Goba, and Mary Ellen Lepionka; Defined Providence; and . . . three thousand miles of origami cranes . . . The Second Anniversary Anthology of The Spoken Word Poetry Series (a poetry venue in Providence, Rhode Island). Alliteration and assonance resonate in the poems Keith has written making them a rhapsodic listening experience. His beliefs are conveyed within his poems and speak to the feeling and places he wants to be in his own life.
The poet who has been a major influence in the poetry I write is my mentor, Ron Goba. I met Ron at the Cantab poetry venue in Cambridge. Ron will look at a piece that I have written and will query with, "What's the point?" He has instilled the discipline of the creative process into how I write poetry. The creative process creates ideas in me which I want to bring out. These ideas, concepts, are then able to get around my automatic censor. This is how I write and I write in stages within this process. I start with the conceptual stage. I try to get a point across, a concept that I want to talk about. From this I draw on an image that builds upon an image. Then I go back and make my idea poetic, which is a removal process to make my poem stronger. I cut and rip out things I love to get a new meaning to flourish. I cram as much meaning as I can into as small as possible of a space, and again rip out parts extraneous to the point - those things which are muddled instead of having a point. I look at the syntax: If it gets the point across I use it. If it doesn't I don't.
FOLLY
A young Keats warned:
The sway of rocking horse
is not from Pegasus.
Cherubic chargers
are not adult
angels. Fly without
wings, without
legend to bear.
Simple craft
outflies eloquent tale.
Horse, horse.
Ah,
the folly of youth.
"Folly" and many of my other pieces are big on word play. The original quote in Keat's poem paraphrased is what man makes is not from God. My take is that the myths of adults are no where close to the purity of the child's imagination. The ending of "Folly" refers to both young Keats and the young me. I, as well as Keats, can be as far off as the next person - multiple things to multiple people. Which is truly what our art is about. There is a hidden pun in the third stanza, "Simple craft outflies eloquent tale." Substitute horses tail. The act of drawing more flies, is not necessarily a good thing. Again, I may be as full of shit as the next person. And then again, poets write the same thing in new ways hoping it will mean something to someone.
My poetry has evolved. My involvement at the Cantab and with poets such as Ron Goba and Rina Lipman have helped to change the direction of my poetry. There is a more positive aspect to my poems, there is less anger. I have moved past this initial phase of poetry which many people have to go through. I am less confessional, but I still draw experiences from life. My objective is not to expose myself, but to open a question. I believe a good poem invites a person in and lets the reader draw an inference which applies to their own life. There is a big difference between providing blinding imagery and building a warm fire that someone can cuddle up next to. I prefer to do the latter.
HERE
I touch wall, feel
place, time. Here I am
finger vines seeking cracks, root,
earth-sun. Leaves loomed to stars.
Bird woven to nest. Wings bound
to peak. Here
cotton webs knit dust, morning
comes. Aged wine is wine.
What more?
THIS IMMORTAL
I carve a niche
beyond shelter,
shifting sands,
age's dust.
Stone does not
erect itself.
Breath blows me
away.
I use stronger imagery in my poetry then I did when I first started writing. Alliteration and assonance are devises I use to strengthen my work both on paper and for listening. The following poems, "Puzzle Doves" and "Settling" make use of both. Read them aloud. Especially in "Settling", notice the powerful alliteration of the "s's".
PUZZLE DOVES
An opal moon
splinters, pearls.
Bathed in tide
Earth sings.
Stars slide inside
silt sheets.
Deep blue
sounds.
Sand nestles
puzzle doves,
feathered shell,
cooing stones.
In this broth
fresh kisses
coral
as sea..
SETTLING
I
A stone placed
in water sinks. Truth liquid
envelops.
Hard life
finds anchor. The stone
I cling to, self. Heart
rock.
II
Is there nothing gentle,
cup of earth,
caress of palm
on sea?
Sand shifts, silts
sea. Soothes depths,
pounds.
"Settling" is a melting into life. It poses questions. If one becomes silt and spreads throughout the sea, are you more powerful then the hard rock? Sand has the property to sift. A petrified heart beats like a tin drum. Again listen to the powerful alliteration of the "s's".
I usually don't tell people I write. If a conversation goes in that direction and I am asked what I write, I say I write poetry. I never say I am a poet. I have a pet peeve about how people try to embellish themselves by saying, "I am a poet". I write and what I write is poetry.
When I open up my writing, I open up myself. As new ideas open, my writing effects myself. I picture the world I want to live in. Then I picture myself within that picture and the experience I would touch upon.
OF DOGS
Dogs bark,
howl, tatter
moon, shred
stars.
A lone wolf
scents air,
unleashes sky.
Clouds
growl, storms
bay, feral sun
burns.
I sit,
lie,
dream
of wild dogs.
"Of Dogs" is about poetry and writing. I believe there is specific importance in my writing of this dog poem. It is a warning to the poet to do more then just sit there and dream. The more you dream, the more your dreams effect you and there can be a strong complacency with lying to yourself and lying on the ground.
In developing a reading voice, I have learned to read my pieces often and to read them out loud.. I ask myself, how the stanza's sound.. I read two ways, for proofing and for reading . I ask does this piece work without embellishment? What is my intent? What is my experience? And, what is the experience on paper? Do they match?
Rina and I have discussed editing my poem entitled "Bird's Sing". It has been suggested that I delete the entire first stanza. I believe at this time, that the first stanza sets the tone and I question whether it is worth sacrificing. I look at the intent and expression both in reading voice and on paper. I ask myself about the intent and if I have expressed it. I have expressed alternate conclusions within this poem.
BIRDS SING
Sparrows sing in the morning,
for they are sparrow. The sun
shines, casts wind to space, births
worlds. It is sun.
These days my mornings wake
with alarm. I should
be father,
am son. When I was young, I longed
to be fire truck. Red. Blazing light,
blaring siren. Bell rung
true. Here at work, phones chirp
in cradles. Chime of family,
lovers, friends. This
is why I sing.
The first stanza is a statement which sets up the questions about the rest of the poem. As a child, do I wish to be off on my own? Is this better then having the responsibilities of the adult? Is it better to be a bird among the flock? What of being a star among the flock? And why is being a star important?
No single poem will change the world. But if enough people write and they change, then the world can change.
WILD LIONS
-Inspired by the works of Douglas Bishop
Within this canvas of blue-green
gold, pink petals
lick burrs,
wild lions sip dainty
cups, heads crowned
with powder tears.
Seeds from our
tongues run like children
in rain,
butter
and thistle.
If uniqueness gives insight -it's wonderful. I believe the responsibility of the poet is to write yourself into the poem and invite others into it, but not to do this in a confessional way.
This is how I write poetry. |
