Welcome to
Twitterization Nation!
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Issue 2 is on the way. We are open for submissions. Each poem selected will be paired with amazing work from our guest photographer or visual artist!
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Poetry & other voices in roughly 140 characters (give or take, when needed)…
If you have the attention span of a goldfish… you’ve been Twitterized!
Lean in.
Give yourself to this as if I were the paper to your pen.
Begin to end the thoughts I cannot finish.
Let me rest the aching of my forehead to your chest.
Press me with the beautiful ideas of your flesh
so our minds mesh like lips that kiss
slip-twisting out of breath.
Come! Meet me in the rushing whim of this!
Look into and through my eyes trace along the valleys of yourself my lines can marry
with your conscience so it carries mine.
These words like scribbled salve to doubts will fill the blanks within each sentence
can begin to move with you the way your pupils move is moving my script to this candor that exists
between myself and you become my punctuation and the rhythm I pursue a sense for symbols too abstract that’s drafted from a dream which I can’t seem to pen where all the syllables collapse to only
one.
And after all our poetry is done, remember if I give myself to you must give me yourself too,
for while it’s true that I’ve been writing it for you are half of this conception.
-Carrie Danaher Hoyt
4-30-2019
A Personal Note from the Poet:
Thank you.
It’s been an awesome ride with TN this month! I thank you for the challenge & the joy of creating & sharing together.
For my last poem, I thought I’d share [“The Poem that is the Love Child of Our Literal Tryst”]. I’ve worked on it off & on for sometime. It’s sort of tongue-in-cheek, a little silly, a little risque. But in the end, it’s really about the interaction between the poet and the reader. The reader cannot but interpret a poem in the unique context of the reader’s own story. This is something that has always fascinated me about poetry. It is profoundly personal, even intimate.
Writing a poem is wonderful. Having it read is more wonderful.
A huge thank you to Twitterization Nation for sharing my words this month, and a huge thank you also to all of the wonderful people who took the time to read my words this month.
-Carrie Danaher Hoyt
Click on the link below to view the poem in PDF format for a clearer view and see the poet’s intended formatting:
April 30_Carrie Danaher Hoyt_2019_Twitterization Nation
Conversion
How I pray today
though many words remain the same
is changing
Before I sat for Mass on Saturday
I genuflected
and checked for nearest exits
When I knelt
I craned my neck to check the space beneath the pew
(enough room to hide one child, maybe two)
I decided if I needed to
I could take the chancel steps by twos
to reach my sons
Then, depending on the type of gun
we could shield behind the altar
or try to run
This was in my head
as my boys rang the bells
and brought the wine & bread
the priest would bless
to transform into
the body and the blood of You
And I wondered: if the shooter comes to shoot
after the priest is through
turning sustenance into You
Might the shooter dine with us?
Might You help us love
and feed him, too?
-Carrie Danaher Hoyt
4-29-2019
NOTE FROM POET TO EDITOR:
This poem is, I’m sad to say, autobiographical. My daughter, along with nearly 100 other young people, made Confirmation this past Saturday. The recent horror on Easter Sunday in Sri Lanka was still fresh in my mind when my family and I entered the packed church for this very special occasion. I did, indeed, take note of the exits and consider the location of my two sons who were altar serving.
During his homily, the Bishop spoke about evil in the world today. He spoke of the need to meet evil, not with further evil, but with Love. When evil meets love, there is the possibility of “conversion.” Not conversion in the sense of changing religions, but rather, turning from darkness to light. The Bishop referenced the recent violence and horrors that have been visited upon places of worship of all religions. He mentioned attacks such as those in Sri Lanka, the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, the mosques in Christchurch New Zealand, and the church in Charleston, South Carolina. He asked for prayers, for love, if ever such evil is to be converted to good.
Ode to the Immigrant Poet
(Inspired by Bola Opaleke)
I wonder as I read your poems
do you still dream
in your native tongue?
I hear echos of the richness
of language learned
when you were young.
And when you write your poetry
where does the translation begin?
In your heart or in your head?
Or only with your pen?
-Carrie Danaher Hoyt
4-28-2019
NOTE FROM POET TO EDITOR:
I’d like to share this poem today
(written some time ago)–
inspired by Bola Opaleke, a poet
whose work I love & admire.
I find it remarkable & inspiring
when I read the poetry of poets
for whom English is a second language.
Poetry is all about words,
and words have their own associations,
rhythm, nuance– I can “feel” certain words.
For me, it is captivating to see
words being used in new ways,
with different context and import.
This poem is a salute
to anyone who has written poetry
in their non-native language.
Such poets take the communication
which only poetry can achieve
to a higher level,
closer to the place (I think)
towards which all poets strive:
the place that transcends translation
and strikes a universal chord.
One of the reasons
I’d like to share this now
is because
Bola has his first book of poetry
coming out in June
(and I just pre-ordered it today!)
A Haiku to My Daughter on her Confirmation Day
Come now flame and dove
Holy Spirit from above
seal her with His love
-Carrie Danaher Hoyt
4-27-2019
Dear Poetry
I apologize,
tonight I have no time
to write.
I have tables to set
checklists to check.
Maybe later?
Leave on the light?
-Carrie Danaher Hoyt
4-26-2019
Haiku to the Bee I Saved Today on the Lake
my friend of flowers
better in nectar to drown
come, I’ll fish you out
-Carrie Danaher Hoyt
4-25-2019
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