Poet Gary Snyder, now 93 years old, is currently a professor emeritus of English and continues to live in the Sierra Nevada foothills. Gary is a naturalist poet, and a man of his convictions. He was arrested, but never incarcerated, during his political and environmental activism, because Gary had influenced Daniel Ellsberg to release the controversial Pentagon Papers, which riled Henry Kissinger. Gary is Buddhist and an avowed pacifist. This poem is a direct homage to Gary’s wonderful poem — “How Poetry Comes to Me”, a poem about how Gary metaphorically envisioned his poetic inspiration. His early poetry is part of the Beat Generation and the San Francisco Renaissance. He has been described as the “poet laureate of Deep Ecology”.
Poetry comes to me
in the breeze
stirring the trees
in a forest high canopy
in the rustle of leaves
and dried conifer needles
underfoot
hiking
in the drumming
of my footfalls
on old growth root chambers
in the crackle
of a chill
late night
campfire
in the cries, calls
chuffs, growls, and belling
of wild nature
it arrives in the roar
of the rolling waves
of the pacific ocean
crashing on rocky shores
or pounding cliff facades
flanking the oregon coast
thrusting skyward
from the ocean froth
it reveals itself
in a glimpse
of the moon rising
in the misty beams
of sunlight
falling golden
into a forest clearing
it floats
between the notes
of a mellow jazz tune
it comes unbidden
dancing elusively
in and out of my thoughts
it murmurs in the ripples
lapping my drift boat
fishing
a peaceful mountain lake
it comes enwrapped
in the sounds
of pacific northwest
wilderness
it comes in the quiet
deep in the night
when all else
has fallen away
it whispers to me
drawing me deeper
into the mystery
of it all
coaxing me to the edge
of awestruck comprehension
yet leaving me aglow
in brilliant bewilderment
warm in the embrace
of wonderment
compelled to write
Gary at his Nevada City, California, home.
*
rob kistner © 2023
Poetry at: dVerse
favorite stanza:
“in the misty beams
of golden sunlight
falling into a forest clearing.”
Glad you liked this Tzvi… 🙂
I love Snyder’s writings, but know so little about him, I didn’t know he’d been arrested (but it makes sense) thank you for that. I like how you go into the poet’s mind and give an insight of where poems come from, most especially the end line, compelled indeed. I gather you share this in your own writing – compelled?
Apparently twice, but never incarcerated. Once, as memory serves me, it involved Ginsberg in a San Francisco dust up over public poetry reading. The other time was owing to Gary’s interaction with Daniel Ellsberg at the time of the Pentagon Papers release. Pissed Henry Kissinger off. This piece I wrote was directly inspired by his short piece How Poetry Comes To Me, but in the writing I was highly influenced by Gary’s total body of poetry he’s done over the years his affinity for nature, especially.
We forget that even American and British poets have been imprisoned, including Oscar Wilde and Byron, so I’m not surprised to read that Gary Snyder was. Poetry in nature is something I understand. I love the way you captured it in sounds such as stirring breezes, drumming of footfalls, roar of rolling waves, Rob, as well as sights. You share so much with Snyder.
Fortunately for Gary, imprisonment never followed. Thank you for such a gracious compliment Kim. To even be mentioned with my favorite poet is an honor.
A heartfelt BRAVO!
Thank you Helen… 🙂
I think that being arrested may be part of being a poet… even there I would say.
Poets speak out Björn, and if you speak truth to injustice, you will ruffle feathers. I agree with you my friend, I believe it is the nature of being publicly visible poet. The rough trade of the meaningful phrase.
And I loved hearing you read it.
Thank you Bjorn… 😉
Well I learned something new today and thank you for the introduction. Love your response, so gentle and filled with wonderment of nature’s images.
You are most welcome Grace. Gary is the poet, whose hem I have tried touch, for over 30 years, since first moving to Portland Oregon in 1990, finding and reading his ”Turtle Island” book of poetry. Gary was a student at Portland’s Reed College, same place Steve Jobs attended. I found Turtle Island in a used book store — and fell in love.
A beautiful poem Rob. I enjoyed hearing you read it today one the live meeting.
Thank you, Dwight it was a pleasure to read. Uncanny how you intuitively understood where I would like to my ashes spread. I’ve had that agreement and that arrangement with my son Justin for years now, so that is where they will be spread — high up on Mount Hood at Lost Lake, half way around the lake trail, in the big stand of old growth. Not in a hurry to be there, but looking forward to eventually being there. Maybe I will someday inspire another would br poet who is walking through the big beautiful old trees?
It was great to hear you read this today, Rob!
A lovely poem.
I generally get poems when I’m walking outside and observing nature, too.
Thank you Merril, it was a pleasure… 🙂
Gorgeous, gorgeous write, Rob! I especially admire; “it arrives in the roar of the rolling waves of the pacific ocean crashing on rocky shores
or pounding cliff facades flanking the oregon coast thrusting skyward
from the ocean froth.” 😀
Thank you Sanaa… 🙂 Those truly are some of the many ways that I get inspired to write poetry, the situations that have, more than once, coax a verse or two from me. 😉
“Poetry comes to me
in the breeze
stirring the trees”
I am so easily absorbed into that line
Happy to have heard you read today Rob.
Much????love
Thank you Gillena! Much love yo you my ftidnd… 🙂
Yes, a “brilliant bewilderment.” Snyder is deep in those wild spaces.
I love the wilderness Brendan, as does Snyder. There is an impeccable fairness, a no-bullshit balance to move survival forward — in the doing of what must be done, and only what must be done, when it must be done — without unnecessary disruptive insincere human moralization. It is a true hierarchy of purpose, not an artificial randomly imposed caste system, designed to benefit the few at the expense of the many. It is raw, rapid, and real — and results in beautiful balance.
Some lines that I really like–
“in the rustle of leaves
and dried conifer needles
underfoot”
“in the cries, calls
chuffs, growls, and belling
of wild nature”
“it floats
between the notes
of a mellow jazz tune”
Apparently I’m interested in sounds today.????
And of course, that last line
“compelled to write”
So much depth and meaning there, especially for us.
I am pleased I resonated your ear Melissa… 😉 The word compelled, was considered very carefully, before I chose it. I feel it best represents what drives a poet/writer, or the “how” that creative act is driven. For me, writing, especially poetry is absolutely a compulsion. There’s really little choice I have in the matter. Also being a mixed-media artist, I write or create nearly every night, 11 PM until 3-4 AM. Almost exclusively writing these days, since arthritis has taken the tight and detailed motions of my hands. It is the way my circadian rhythms are wired as an adult, the result of my nearly 3 decades of singing and playing in bars and clubs, until past 2:00 AM on average 5 nights a week — many times on a traveling circuit. Even the years when I operated my home theater AV business, and when I traveled the country for Lucasfilm LTD, I kept heavily to these for & aft midnight hours. They are mu most effective. Fortunatrly, most of my life I have controlled the bulk of my schedule, so after leaving the entertainment business — my time in my office of my own AudioVision home theater business, and my meetings with clients on the road for George as his Market Development Strategist, I kept essentially this same schedule, using the early AM to develop strategies, and do reports. I love the dark of late PM early AM, even since leaving my performing life and business career — I still find the depth of that nightly period of time to be most inspiring. I certainly will write during the day, if so motivated, and no personal health or family issues conflict — but I am truly a night-owl. Ambien has become a necessary life-long tool for me, if I am to get any useful sleep.
I often wonder if some of us are wired that way. I tend to stay up late into the night, for no particular reason. Having three kids, one of whom wakes up around 630am every day like clockwork????, staying up till 2 or 3 am can end up being detrimental (although some days I run better on just a couple hours of sleep?). I do it anyway, though.????
My circadian rhythms were ruined during the nearly 3 decades that I played music, because we would perform at night into the early morning, so I got used to staying up after the gig and having breakfast like at 3 AM, not getting to sleep till four or five. i did that 4-5 times a week — sometimes more. While that’s been several decades ago since I did that — my circadian rhythms have been wired to that particular Schedule almost ever since. So Melissa, I think it they will be just simply the way if someone is wired.
Hi Rob. I enjoyed this the first time around but I’m afraid the prompt asks you to choose from one of three poems: one by Siegfried Sassoon, one by Dylan Thomas, or one by Maya Angelou, and write a response. I’m sorry but I will have to delete your url this time. If you get a chance, you have the rest of the week to write a new response.
I know… 🙁 I blew it.