Time for One Poem! : Connecting Poetry and Poetry Sceptics

 

When her community project of handing out poems on the street became impossible due to the pandemic, Annie Muir decided to make a podcast aimed at complete beginners to poetry

Words by Annie Muir and Illustrations by Rachael Proctor

Before the pandemic, I used to go out once a week to hand out poems on the street. I moved to the Southside of Glasgow in October 2019, and in November I handed out photocopies of a poem outside Langside Library. I had been doing this regularly since 2016, when I was studying for a Masters in Creative Writing in Manchester, and came up with the idea of ‘Time for one Poem’. 

I was certain that more people would like poetry if they gave it a chance. But I also knew that the way we’re taught it at school can be off-putting, and the idea of reading a whole book of poems is overwhelming. People just needed a place to start, which is why I decided to hand out photocopies of one poem (anything that had caught my eye recently, usually from the library I was visiting) to people passing by outside local libraries asking: “Would you like a poem?” 

A lot of people said no, or just ignored me. But for every ten who didn’t take a poem, there was one person whose eyes lit up as their brain worked out what was happening. One of my favourite responses was when someone came back and thanked me wholeheartedly for the poem and told me that what I was doing: “really cheers people up”, adding: “Life’s not all about keeping your head down and slogging. Not everyone realises that.” And then there were the people who stopped to ask me why I was doing it, and who told me about their experiences of reading (or not reading) poetry. 

I started a blog to try and convey these experiences, which became a sort of compendium of all the reasons people don’t read poetry. There was a woman called Gemma, who told me a story that had obviously made a big impression on her. At primary school she used to write poems, and had been writing one during an English lesson when the teacher snatched it off her and read it out “in a squeaky voice” before tearing it up and throwing it in the bin. She never wrote another poem, but has never forgotten that one: “It was about a raindrop rolling down the window, then stopping, then starting again.”

In Manchester, visiting all these libraries and talking to people in different parts of town made me feel more like a part of the community. It is so easy, when you study in a place, to go from university to home and not explore further. When I moved to Glasgow, I wanted to do the same. The week after visiting Langside Library, I handed out copies of another poem outside Govanhill Library, where I met a nice librarian called Ewan who came and took a poem off me after helping me when the photocopier broke. Then I went to the GOMA Library in town, and then to Gorbals Library where I met Jim, who recited several Robert Burns poems by heart when I told him what I was doing. Then came 2020, when talking to your own family face-to-face wasn’t allowed, let alone talking to strangers.

When the pandemic hit and I wasn’t able to go out on the streets and talk to people, I decided to make a podcast. In each episode, I talk to one poet about how they got into poetry, and one poetry-sceptic about why they didn’t. Me and the poetry-sceptic then go through a poem together, and see what we can make of it. 

I think some people are shocked by the fact that people who read and write poetry – me for example – don’t read a poem and instantly know exactly what is going on. But most of the time when I first read a poem, I have no idea what it is talking about, let alone what it means. That’s why I have found talking to people who don’t have experience of reading poetry extremely enlightening: every person I speak to brings their own individual interpretation to the poem we are looking at, based on their own life experiences. 

One thing I didn’t like about poetry in school is that there always seemed to be a right answer that the teacher knew and the students had to work out. But I don’t see poetry like that now: there is no right answer. It doesn’t matter what the poet was thinking when they wrote the poem; it only matters what you, the reader, take from it. 

To make the podcast, I recorded interviews with 12 of my favourite poets writing poetry right now. This included two brilliant local Southside poets: Sean Wai Keung, whose poems have featured in this magazine, and Callie Gardner – who was one of the first poets I met in Glasgow when I went to their reading group at Category is Books, and who sadly passed away last year. 

After that, I set out to find 12 Glasgow-based poetry-sceptics to talk to – which proved extremely difficult. Using email, the odds were even less in my favour than with handing out poems on the street: it is much easier to ignore an email than a person standing on the street smiling at you. I started wondering: why would anyone who doesn’t like poetry agree to take the time to talk to me about poetry?

But in the end, I found 12 brave people from all different walks of life, including: Paul, a community gardener for Urban Roots; David, a 17-year-old in his last year of college; Chris, a photographer and co-owner of Gulabi – an independent film lab in Govanhill; and Kirstie, a Save Glasgow Libraries campaigner who works for the charity United to Prevent Suicide. 

Each of my 12 guests had different reasons for not having read much poetry: some liked it in school, some hated it in school; some wrote poetry as teenagers, some dabble in writing it now. But all of them have in common the fact that they agreed to take themselves out of their comfort zones and do something that didn’t immediately appeal to them.

Because of COVID restrictions, when I applied to Creative Scotland for the funding to make this podcast, I had to show that I could make the entire thing without leaving my flat. Handing out poems on the street had always been such a thrill to me, a way to get myself out there and away from the endless screens of modern life, to talk to strangers. By making this podcast, I found another method of getting out into my new neighbourhood and meeting people with views and experiences different to my own, at a time when the world was doing its best to keep us looking inward. 

Meet the poetry-sceptics! Two local podcast guests give feedback on their experiences of being involved with the project:

I had never really thought of reading poetry before – just because I thought it would not leave me with the satisfaction that a song or a book gives me. But reading the poem [‘I will already remember you for the rest of my life’ by Hera Lindsay Bird] and coming on the show has opened my eyes. I am more open and, whenever I see a poem online, I do not scroll past but read it with an open mind. 

I have not proactively looked for poems but I have read some here and there. I did really enjoy the poem we talked about and I am interested/drawn to the author of the poem. I definitely will look into the poet we spoke about as I feel a click with the poem.

Mathias, Care Administrator at The No.1 Care Agency

Prior to the podcast, I was quite intimidated by poetry. This was based on some learning experiences at school (until I discovered Philip Larkin and Spike Milligan), but it’s also based on how people have made me feel. There’s been some poor interactions with academics and people of privilege who have acted like gatekeepers and made me feel quite stupid at times. There’s a superiority complex that followed with these people which was – and is – disappointing.

We discussed [‘Bloom’], a Harry Josephine Giles poem, during the podcast. It felt refreshing in the writing and structure and it was great to be introduced to someone who I have since gone on to learn more about. I guess it slightly shifted my thinking about poetry, but I still find the people that occupy the space intimidating and I would love to discover more people within my thought space to interact with. I haven’t read any poetry since but it has lit a spark of curiosity.”

Halina, Podcast Producer; PR at Dardishi, We Are Here Scotland and SWIM (Scottish Women in Music)

‘Time for one Poem’ podcast is out now on Spotify, Apple, Google or wherever you find your podcasts! Read more about the podcast and Annie’s experiences of handing out poems at: www.time41poem.wordpress.com

This article was first published as part of Issue 5 of Greater Govanhill magazine. If you would like to purchase this copy, or any of our past issues, please click the link

 
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