Trish Hopkinson ~ 3 Questions & a Poem

3 Questions and a Poem–in which one of my favorite poets is interviewed and shares a poem.

Question 1

What do you consider the three most important elements of a poem?

I think the three most important elements of a poem are unique metaphor, specificity, and word choice. Metaphor is important because it helps the reader experience the poem in a way that is limited to what we can express in language. That is, it’s impossible to truly experience another person’s life experience (the speaker and/or the poet) and metaphor gets us closer to that experience. Similarly, the more specific the details in the poem, the easier it is for a reader to relate the poem to their own specific experiences. When a poem is largely universal, it is difficult to access emotion or conjure imagery. Word choice is what makes a poet a poet. Attending to each word so it carries its weight in the poem and contributes to the overall meaning, sound, and imagery is critical.

Question 2

What’s your best advice for writing poetry?

Don’t be afraid of revision or critique. We become better poets by workshopping with others. Even if I disagree with feedback I receive, it typically helps me understand what is working or not working and gives me direction or inspiration for what I can do to improve the poem. After all, it is my poem, I am the artist, so I can make those decisions, regardless of what others may advise. Ultimately, workshopping with others can give you insights you may have otherwise overlooked and help you determine if the poem is doing what you intend it to do. Additionally, it’s important to read poetry broadly, in a variety of styles and forms, and to participate in the poetry community to continue learning and to support other poets. Go to readings and open mic events, buy books, let poets know when you love their work.

Question 3

What’s the one poem that everyone should read today?

I love this poem by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer and how it encourages me to pause, take a moment for myself when I need it. A fellow Colorado poet and just a beautiful person to share space with, I’m excited to see her when she performs locally in my little western slope town this week. https://coloradopoetscenter.org/poets/trommer_rosemery-wahtola/filling-my-purse.html

“Like the screech owl, Trish Hopkinson’s work hardens
itself in order to keep its insides soft. There’s a Plathian
urgency to these poems, reminding us that memory has
taste buds, ancestry is complicated and life, like poetry,
is grounded in physicality.”
–Wendy Videlock, author of Wise to the West

A GODLESS ASCENDS is the powerful new collection
of poems by Trish Hopkinson. In this intensely personal
collection, the poet’s close attention to language propels
the narrative and brings its scenes to life: I see her
mother writing essays in college; I see the poet telling
her daughter, do not mistake urgency for love; I see her
watching over her injured son in his hospital bed. These
poems produce an aura of the mystical nature of making
a family and keeping it together while remaining true to
the poet’s creative life.

And a Poem…

This poem is included in my most recent collection A Godless Ascends and was originally published by Moment Poetry in collaboration with artwork by Berenika Polomova.

Ode to a Young Screech Owl

To you who left a mouse pellet in my backyard
Thank you. Thank you for your nightly visits,
your gentle calls. I’ve seen you perch in the ash tree,
certain in your footing, sturdy on an extended limb.
I name you Wholeness, for your whole life long,
for the acknowledgement of your call—a question
you pose each evening, your silhouette blurred,
camouflaged by branch and bark, the porch light glinting
off each iris when you crook your brow.
What does this world offer to a screech owl
—what but a mouse, its scraps
wrapped up tidily, left for me to find
in daylight’s prism, the skull carefully tucked in,
surrounded by small bones, shroud of hair. A casket
or, rather, a sacrifice offered, a field mouse
that gives you will to live another day
—not unlike my own nervous impulses scurrying
in bits of fodder, scavenging string and straw
to nest, building prospect, only to be snatched up
in your talons, swallowed whole. Soft annihilation
leaves bones unbroken, dissolves muscle,
fat, skin, and heart. I harden myself
to keep my insides soft, like the screech owl,
and cannot eat again until the remains are let go.

You can click right here to read more author interviews like this one.

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