Poets to Poets (2)

It is not easy to review a book, especially a book of poetry. I have only reviewed one book “The River’s Stone Roots” by James Deahl. The reason he asked me, I guess, is that I am a poet who knows Chinese and English.  I must confess it was a tough task and I was glad that he was happy about my review (published by Hammered Out in 2007).  Since then, we have exchanged news through email, but we haven’t met each other. Next week I will meet him and other good poets/writers: Colombo, Gatenby, Cook, Fiorito who I have heard from newspapers, at the event for Ray Souster.

My poetry book “Wings Toward Sunlight” was launched in Mar, 2011. I was glad and grateful that John. B .Lee wrote the preface and Terry Barker wrote the introduction for this book. They wrote very well and covered different angles of analyses and interpretations. But since there are tons of books out for review. I wondered who would like to take challenge to review my book. Still my publisher and I mailed ten copies to different poetry magazines to see if they were interested. As you can imagine, these copies sank into bottom. But I did get very good feedback from other readers. Mona said she read my book three times, each time she got another view of my poetry. Byron said, “A number of poems in your collection have stuck in my mind and I keep revisiting them to re-read. It’s in the way the imagery as I read them aloud, takes on a tangible quality in that I relate to these. I very much enjoyed your imagery, the storytelling in such compact spaces. The moving glances of events and impressions in passing. The reflections of the past and their impact on the present… Your work is a pleasure to experience.”
As for book review, I hesitate to inquire, knowing it is a big job. But I am glad that two poets offer to review it . LOIS P. JONES, a wonderful poet we met on a poetry workshop forum in USA, loves my poetry and did a stunning review. It was accepted to be published on Loch Raven Review for fall/winter issue. My editor and publisher are eager to see it out… But right now we must wait. (In fact, Lois’ review is so good, to tell you the truth, I hate to wait…)
Reid is my new friend (a poet/editor). He visited Toronto this summer for his poetry book. We had a very short meeting at downtown and I gave him my book. The next day, he told me that he loved my book and  wanted to review it. I was very glad. Last night, I got his email to say that he must do it although he was very busy and had a difficulty to find the right flow to write, “There’s a pattern, Anna.  You (we) just don’t recognize it yet. I have twenty pages of notes now to boil into a short review.  I may be the first Anna Yin scholar!  It’s worth it.  You are a wonderful poet.  You do things so (seemingly) easily that other poets would have to knock down walls, bring in work crews, and make a racket.  The more I study, the more I am flabbergasted how you effortlessly  (perhaps) slide from level to level of meaning–literally, psychological, symbolic–like a ghost walking through walls.  The wall is still there–you are here–no, you’re gone.  A glimmer on the water, the shine of the moon on ripples–that’s you.”
I know to review a book is a difficult task. But I think eventually Reid will surprise us by doing this. Who knows?  I tell him that I am open to any critique…Sure, that needs guts. I believe we both have. That is the same poet in another email said, “I think You are far more like Emily Dickinson than you are like Sylvia Plath”
Here is the title poem from my book “Wings Toward Sunlight”
Why I Carry You, Mirror  
They say I look more
at you than the fire.

They say I am more
like Plath than Dickinson.

Cold, do you agree?
A lake of silence.

Silver and exact,
a subdued cell—
Plath swallowed within,
her dark robe hangs
in the bleak space.

Night falls to shut windows.
From room to room
I carry you
to search
the tiny heart
of a hummingbird.

Now you settle here in my poem—  
rains fall over you,
wings toward sunlight.

 

Poet to Poet (stories behind poems)

I have always been fascinated by Sylvia Plath’s poems. They leave me with mysterious haunting images, and I wondered what kind of life she had. I was sad to read about her tragic suicide. I recognized that those evocative images came from her tangled mind. In that era, life became extremely difficult for her to deal with. Reality was like a rusted and dull cage, yet her mind were like stormy oceans. In a film based on her life, there was a scene where she stood alone beside the ebbing ocean.  I keep reflecting on it and have a strong impression that she wanted to join the ebb tide. Last year, when Wilda Morris (a USA poet) asked for submissions for a persona poem from the perspective of someone in history, I immediately thought of Plath and wrote this poem. (It won wildamorris.blogspot poetry challenge for 2010 Feb.)

Insomnia
–empathy for Sylvia Plath

I cut an echoless love
in pale moonlight.

Ashes of stars slip
from my face.

You remain in a secret garden.
My shadow clings to the splitting wall.

The taste of blood edges
up my bleeding fingers.

Water rises on a lake
and the moon drowns.

Two years ago I read Hughes’ “Full Moon and Little Frieda”. I was impressed by the shy artist that Hughes created by his words. The image of the moon lingered in my head and I fell in love with it. I began to compose my poem and wished to bring dead poets back, like recalling the moon. I wrote this poem to remember Hughes and Li Po.  I heard that Li Po loved the moon so much that when he was old, one night when he had been drinking on a boat, seeing the reflection of the moon, he reached out to embrace it, and fell into the river.  People said it was a happy death for him. (This poem won the 2010 Poem-A-Day contest in public libraries of Cambridge, Ontario)

After Reading Ted Hughes’ “Full Moon and Little Frieda”

I fall in love with you, Moon,
seeing you step back like a timid artist.
Listening to the night,
you come out, a pail lifted.

Moon, they are gone.
They left you watching over the river.
How many years since?
And you watch the small village
becoming a floating island.

Among rows of windows,
the night flows, and I’m wide awake.
How much I want to imitate Li Po,
dancing with his white sleeves,
a humming from his burning heart ,
night after night inviting you for a drink!
The wine never drained,
yet he drowned in the silver river.

Moon, lift your bucket,
come out once more.
I won’t make a sound.

 I know these two poems are in very different styles. Reid and other poets said I had a very dynamic style and authentic voice. Sometimes I just write and have no idea who I write like. But Reid and Terry told me, “You are far more like Emily Dickinson than you are like Sylvia Plath”

More stories: My book launch show file

CBC Radio interview (2011)    /  CBC Radio One interview (2005)

Story Behind “online: i found true love!”

Poetry Saved Me!  /Poets to Poets

 

My book launch show file

At Humber College, after I hosted my Poetry Alive events, students were glad to have me come to show how deeply and dynamically each poem could be read. “Window & Mirror” really opened up them.
Seesaw in another way changed their view upon an ordinal object in our daily life. They told me there could feel that there were many stories behind each poem. And they wanted to know. So here for those who missed my Poetry Alive event and book launch, a door ajar to glance (AnnaYinbooklaunch)PoetryJourney.