Impressions

Some people see things in a certain way. Some people, when they see something, just feel compelled to somehow capture it, whether that be by a sketch, a painting, or even a symphony. Chekhov, for instance, while writing A Journey to Sakhalin, admitted to this compulsion. The poet William Barnes coined the term, the poetic eye. In one of his poems, The Young Rhymer Snubbed, he writes, “But then my heart did kindle wi’ the fleäme o’t, // Whenever I did zee a touchen zight, // An’ I did all but lose my wits there-right.” Barnes would be so moved by the things he saw that he just had to put pen to paper and capture it in a poem. I know how he feels. I am one of these people. I see things and I see a poem. I want to somehow capture, not so much the scene, but the moment, what I felt and thought in that moment, and what that moment meant to me.

 

Impressions is a small collection of poems inspired by such moments, whether they occurred while cycling through Provence, rambling in Wales, trekking through Galicia, hunting for castles in Corsica, or even on a pirogue in the Amazon. I hope you enjoy sharing these moments with me, and I hope that they help you find your own poetic eye.

 

 

An’ zoo I vound my friends think all the seäme o’t,
That rhyme won’t vill the pocket over tight,
But then my heart did kindle wi’ the fleäme o’t,
Whenever I did zee a touchen zight,
An’ I did all but lose my wits there-right.
‘Tis likely I shall meäke a losen geäme o’t,
But still, ageän, to lighten off the bleäme o’t,
Vor all do keep me poor, it still will bring
My heart a pleasure that do leäve noo sting.

 

From William Barnes’ The Young Rhymer Snubbed