Poetry Friday: James Crews, via George Bilgere, via Poetry Town (with a word about Hamnet)

I usually get a Poetry Friday post put together on Thursday afternoon, but yesterday I was too busy weeping. I saw Hamnet for the second time in a week — Saturday with my daughter, yesterday with Atticus. It's possibly one of the most beautiful films I’ve ever seen. Reviewers who are calling it “emotionally manipulative” (and worse) are (in my not-so-subtle opinion) callous, jaded, and ridiculous. Have you ever lost a child? Have you ever felt deep, raw, uncaged grief? No? Then go write about something else. Review a different kind of movie. Or maybe, instead of cranking out reviews, go create something yourself. There’s a challenge for you.

(Do I sound salty? Yes, yes, I do. Perhaps my patience is wearing thin these days.) 

Hamnet is a mesmerizing, two-hour meditation on love and grief, love and forgiveness, love and the power of art. If it’s not your thing, that’s fine, but don’t call it “grief p*rn,” which is an idiotic expression and an idiotic way to characterize a sensitive, serious film about one of the most horrific losses a couple can endure. 

We now return to our regularly scheduled Poetry Friday post. 

I had nothing ready for Poetry Friday, but this morning George Bilgere came to my rescue again. I have enjoyed Bilgere’s work for a long time, but in the summer of 2024 I found him in his latest habitat: Poetry Town. If you haven’t checked it out yet, run, do not walk, over there. Now! 

Today’s Poetry Town pick is from the marvelous James Crews. In October, I participated in a four-week (four Zoom meetings over consecutive Fridays) workshop with Crews called “Turning Toward Grief.” Each week featured a conversation between James and another poet (Bilgere was one, along with Naomi Shihab Nye, January Gill O’Neil, and Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer), followed by writing prompts from James. It was sublime. 

Today, I invite you to enjoy the awe that James describes, inspires and encourages in this poem. Then, run, do not walk, over to his website to sign up for his beautiful newsletter, “The Weekly Pause.” Now! 

Awe

by James Crews

It’s a shiver that climbs the trellis
of the spine, each tingle a bright white
morning glory breaking into blossom
beneath the skin. It can happen anywhere,
anytime, even finding this sleeve of ice
worn by a branch all morning, now fallen

….

(Read the rest here, at George Bilgere’s Poetry Town.) 

~~~~~~~~~~

Amy Ludwig VanDerwater is hosting the Poetry Friday round-up today at The Poem Farm. 

Photo courtesy of Ilona Burschl at Pixabay.