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ywords-February 1, 2009

In late January and early February, Imbolc, the festival honouring St. Brigid (patron of beer-making and poetry), is celebrated in Celtic-influenced lands. So, before retiring on Saturday, January 31, 2009, I followed the old Irish custom of putting a bowl of oats outside on the doorstep, hoping to entice the saint to stop for a treat as she passed by. Although St. Brigid did not visit my neighbourhood that night, she could have been present in her aspect as patron of poetry at the Bywords afternoon of poetry and music and fundraiser for Cornerstone Women’s Shelter on February 1, 2009, at Swizzles Bar and Grill on Queen Street.

Award-winning singer and songwriter Andrea Simms-Karp opened the musical entertainment by musing “This kind of gig beats playing in a loud, packed bar . . . people are here because they want to listen.” Likewise, a fair number of folks were in attendance because of their love of language and poetry. Simms-Karp plays a mean stringed instrument, including guitar and banjo, and is confident and relaxed in front of an audience. Her melodious rendition of “Girl like Me” was the perfect choice to get the audience’s attention, and “Running Shoes,” her next offering, featured a more reflective arrangement than previous versions I have heard.

The first poet, Christine McNair, read “green” and “statement” (Bywords, Winter 2008), then followed up by presenting several pieces in progress. McNair is excellent at manipulating language to create intriguing images—“A Fool’s Grace” (“hot cut radiance, blister-packed”) showcases this talent as does “So Be It” (“the predation of peregrines . . . . the ghosting of unlit tables . . . . a saucer full of blossoming petrol).” And, “Floodlines” contains seemingly disparate images that coalesce within the poem’s framework: “you barricade cities . . . . I am ancient, I am careworn . . . . my car still full of umbrellas . . . . glaciers continue to melt . . . . I open my mouth, but there is nothing but water.”

Desirée, a rainbow lorikeet native to Papua, New Guinea, provided cohesion to Claudia Coutu-Radmore’s poetry set. Although diminutive these birds are formidable, as the following line from “Wild Thing Desirée” acknowledges: “she took a chunk out of my face.” And, incredibly, Desirée produced an egg without benefit of a partner (parthenogenesis). This phenomenon is pondered and chronicled in “Desirée Gravit: First Egg”: “a sudden surge of hormone, a cell divides . . . . the pale egg’s journey its end . . . . close to the bone, as something she must push out . . . . the curious call of that oval object . . . . what is it then, that pulls at her? . . . . linked to wet, abandoned fragments of so long ago.” Finally, “She Walks in Beauty” is a paean to Nature’s intrinsic ability to inspire: “So, Desirée in peaceful stroll . . . . a birdly eloquent poem.”

Carol A. Stephens was the final Bywords poet to read. Although Stephens said she was “really nervous,” her delivery was professional and engaging. Stephens’s poems are concerned with gender issues, especially those affecting women of “a certain age” (hey, I’m one). For example, “A Woman’s Theme” deals candidly with the conflicting emotions felt by some women when confined to the role of wife and mother: “what I really wanted was to run down that field and kick that ball into next Tuesday . . . . I have borne children / suffered the pain of it . . . . I have borne loss . . . . I will not retire into the shadows . . . . it is my time to run toward the sun.” As well, “If I Could” “animus revertendi” (Bywords, Winter 2009) and “Always a Miracle” have a similar confessional tone. Next, “Invisible” features a chorus chanting “old lady, old lady, old lady” while the speaker’s reflections on chronological and physical aging culminate in a final rhetorical question “Am I smaller today than I was yesterday?” The most alarming aspect, however, is the prospect of becoming “More and more absent minded until there is no mind at all.” Stephen ended her presentation on a lighter note with “Fairy Tales,” a poem that subverts the romantic notions that “Frogs really are princes” and “diamonds are forever,” when the speaker proclaims “Frogs are frogs . . . . [and] nothing lasts forever, nothing. Buy your own diamonds!”

Simms-Karp wound up the Bywords portion of the afternoon with several more tunes, including a buoyant rendition of “Silvering,” previously featured on the popular CBC radio program, The Vinyl Cafe. The line “Something about this neighbourhood, draws me out and pulls me back to you” is echoed prosaically in the refrain “I’m good as gold, but silvering to you,” and is a splendid example of art’s alchemical properties. For a song that was written in three minutes, “Silvering” deserves to become a perennial favourite.

Although there were no votive offerings to St. Brigid, there was plenty of beer and poetry throughout the afternoon. Still, I am convinced that the saint at least passed by Swizzles Bar and Grill on Sunday, February 1, 2009—the music and the poetry were just that good.

Catharine Carroll, February 5, 2008