The pandemic has changed the way local poets meet, but what they say, not so much.
The Conspiracy of Three has been meeting for the past several months (seems more like a year) via Zoom meetings. The Conspirators are local writers who share their work once a month, sometimes with guest writers, often with musical accompaniment, and usually with much laughter and some serious contemplation about the world we inhabit.
The pandemic has opened some new doors for us as well as shuttering the one on Main Street where we usually gather. Our current host Denis is a man of great imagination and he has invited poets from other parts of Ontario to join us, then from other provinces, and last week, from Ireland.
Ah, the magic of Zoom. The theme was part of the poetry movement, ‘One Hundred Thousand Poets for Change’ wherein poets offer thoughts on what we can do to change the world with our words. The topics on Saturday evening ranged from Indigenous rights and Black Lives Matter to COVID and Donald Trump’s illness. (Let me rephrase that: Don’s bout with COVID.)
There is little doubt that the Irish have had a way with words for many years, garnering numerous Nobel prizes in recognition of their work. Our guest Csilla definitely carries on that tradition and it was wonderful to hear her poetry all the way from Ireland. The Nobel was mentioned again by Doyali (from Hamilton) in her moving poem about Malala and the young woman’s work in Afghanistan.
Rod (you know him from his work on the stage) gave a dramatic reading of an excerpt from his upcoming book that should hit the local bestsellers’ list. Janet also has had her book accepted for publishing, indicating that some of the Conspirators are having success in getting their work into the public domain. Yes, there are prose writers in the group, some who are trying to encourage Change with their words.
Louise (Nipissing U) shared her work along with a Zoom moment as her cat made its cameo appearance. Laurie had to mute her mic as the next-door neighbour decided to mow his lawn. The technical glitches and wavering bandwidth can be a challenge but none of this would stop our John (I call my friend the unofficial poet laureate of Mattawa). His wry wit and hilarious commentaries on life always bring a smile to our faces. His poem about the cream separator brought back memories as I had similar experiences when I was young.
Our poet from Cobalt, (David) gave us the unvarnished truth about Don Trump, not only the latest news on the virus, but with a number of thoughts about the President’s character and what this has meant for democracy – not only in the United States, but worldwide. I’m guessing that David would be a contrarian Democrat if he lived south of the border!
There is a standing challenge that one cannot write a serious limerick and Galen writes some that almost make it – until the last line. Mine always start with ‘there once was a man . . .’ and somehow end up off-colour.
I had the honour of closing the evening of readings and I chose one of my poems about paddling. The Warriors of Hope recently lost one of its founding members to cancer and no doubt she was on my mind as I read ‘Four by Four’, a comparison of padding as a Coeur des Bois and a dragon boater. The more things change the more they remain the same. I finished with a poem about Gordon Lightfoot, our Canadian Balladeer that apparently brought back many fond memories with the Conspirators. I suppose ‘If you could read my mind . . .,” is what One Hundred Thousand Poets for Change is about.
Paddling Four by Four
I wonder as I dig deep my paddle
if coureur des bois in their freight canoes
or the Iroquois in their long war canoes
ever paddled four strokes hard
four strokes easy four strokes hard
like we practice in Jane our dragon boat
for five long tiring minutes not all day
four strokes hard four strokes easy
As my deep breaths almost
become gasps for air filling
my heaving chest at the three minute
mark they settle to what the coach
calls a second wind but I wonder
if it might not be my last wind
how did the coureur des bois
if folklore has it right once again
have the strength let alone the breath
endurance willpower to sing paddling
songs like Les trois beaux canards
or La Belle Françoise a sad song
about leaving their loved one behind
as the paddlers headed into the wilderness
while we modern dragon-boaters
with our carbon-fibre paddles
and fiberglass coated painted craft
can only occasionally find the energy
to sing our cancer paddling song
I don’t know but I’ve been told
Warriors will go for gold
I count four hard four easy
four hard four easy
at our steady pace of sixty strokes
per minute waiting for the call
from the coach standing at the stern
welcoming words of easy all
surely the captains of those long birch
canoes called le repos giving the
lead singer a chance to rest his voice
arms back and legs before
calling the coureurs des bois
to boat monter dans le bateau
regaining the steady beat
of four by four up the Ottawa
Mattawa through Trout Lake
where we Warriors paddle
this lovely calm evening
four by four
four by four
