Treasuring Poetry – Meet the poet, Merril D Smith, and a book review #poetry #poetrycommunity #bookreview
Posted: October 18, 2023 Filed under: Book Review, Books, Interview, Poetry, Review, Treasuring Poetry | Tags: Book Review, Merril D. Smith, Poet Interview, Poetry, River Ghosts, Robbie Cheadle, Treasuring Poetry, Writing to be Read 65 Comments
Today, I am delighted to welcome talented poet, Merril D Smith as my October Treasuring Poetry guest. Merril has recently launched River Ghosts, a beautiful book of poetry which I have reviewed below.
Tell me a bit about your poetry collection, River Ghosts. What inspired the poetry in this book? Does it have a particular theme?
I had submitted a chapbook to Nightingale & Sparrow Press, which was longlisted, but ultimately not chosen for publication. The editor gave me some positive feedback, and I decided I would submit a full-length manuscript the following year. Of course, I did not expect a pandemic, nor that my mom would die from it in April 2020 during the first wave and lockdown. By that time, she was in a nursing home, and we were not allowed to be with her. I compiled River Ghosts in the months after her death with some already written poems—some published—and some new poems.
I walk by the Delaware River nearly every morning. Sometimes I go to a nearby park, which is also a historic battle site. The battle took place during the American Revolution, and there is an eighteenth-century house there. Recently, they’ve found more remains of soldiers—Hessians who fought for the British. If ghosts exist, I think they are at rivers, which carry so much history, and because of the battle and soldiers killed, I imagine them here.
So, the collection’s title comes from my musings about rivers and ghosts, including the ghosts of memory. However, I don’t think River Ghosts is all about sadness and grief by any means! I also want to mention that my older child, Jay Smith, designed the cover art, and the book is dedicated to my mother’s memory.
Do you do a lot of editing of your poetry or does the poem manifest itself fully formed?
That really depends. I nearly always do some editing, even for poems written for prompts. Sometimes, I go back to poems though, and I revise them. Then again, I’ve had some poems published that I pretty much wrote and sent off.
What do you find to be the most effective way of sharing your poetry with fellow poetry lovers?
I don’t know about effective. I suppose more people read my poetry on my blog, especially in response to a prompt, than anywhere else. I’ve also shared poems on Twitter /X for Top Tweet Tuesday (run by Black Bough Poetry), and I’ve read at some online open mics.
Do you think poetry is still a relevant form of expressing ideas in our modern world? If yes, why?
I think it’s relevant. I think I’ve read there’s been an upsurge in poetry, both reading and writing. Perhaps that’s because of social media and Covid lockdowns. I think most people enjoy poetry, especially if it’s read. For example, so many people were energized by Amanda Gorman’s reading of her poem, “The Hill We Climb,” at the inauguration of President Joe Biden in 2021. She is the youngest poet to have read a poem at a US presidential inauguration, and she is also an activist.
Which of your own poems is your favorite and why?
I don’t have a favorite anything—book, movie, song, or poem– it depends on my mood. But I will share one of my favorites from River Ghosts. “Moon Landing” was originally published by Black Bough Poetry.
Moon Landing
On that warm July night,
my father watched moonstruck
as Neil Armstrong took his giant leap.
I remained firmly earthbound,
watching our new puppies in the TV screen light,
their small black and white bodies tumbling,
stepping hesitantly into their futures.
Now—ensorcelled by moon-glow—
I plummet back, landing my time-rocket
on the rocky surface of memory.
Which poem by any other poet that you’ve read, do you relate to the most and why?
Again, I can’t say there is any poem that I relate to the most. I like many different types of poetry.
I think this is the poem I wish I had written. You will see in a way it’s connected to the poem of mine that I shared. “My God, It’s Full of Stars” is by Tracy K. Smith, who was US Poet Laureate, and who won a Pulitzer Prize for her collection Life on Mars.
My God, It’s Full of Stars by Tracy K. Smith
We like to think of it as parallel to what we know,
Only bigger. One man against the authorities.
Or one man against a city of zombies. One man
Who is not, in fact, a man, sent to understand
The caravan of men now chasing him like red ants
Let loose down the pants of America. Man on the run.
Man with a ship to catch, a payload to drop,
This message going out to all of space. . . . Though
Maybe it’s more like life below the sea: silent,
Buoyant, bizarrely benign. Relics
Of an outmoded design. Some like to imagine
A cosmic mother watching through a spray of stars,
Mouthing yes, yes as we toddle toward the light,
Biting her lip if we teeter at some ledge. Longing
To sweep us to her breast, she hopes for the best
While the father storms through adjacent rooms
Ranting with the force of Kingdom Come,
Not caring anymore what might snap us in its jaw.
Sometimes, what I see is a library in a rural community.
All the tall shelves in the big open room. And the pencils
In a cup at Circulation, gnawed on by the entire population.
The books have lived here all along, belonging
For weeks at a time to one or another in the brief sequence
Of family names, speaking (at night mostly) to a face,
A pair of eyes. The most remarkable lies.
2.
Charlton Heston is waiting to be let in. He asked once politely.
A second time with force from the diaphragm. The third time,
He did it like Moses: arms raised high, face an apocryphal white.
Shirt crisp, suit trim, he stoops a little coming in,
Then grows tall. He scans the room. He stands until I gesture,
Then he sits. Birds commence their evening chatter. Someone fires
Charcoals out below. He’ll take a whiskey if I have it. Water if I don’t.
I ask him to start from the beginning, but he goes only halfway back.
That was the future once, he says. Before the world went upside down.
Hero, survivor, God’s right hand man, I know he sees the blank
Surface of the moon where I see a language built from brick and bone.
He sits straight in his seat, takes a long, slow high-thespian breath,
Then lets it go. For all I know, I was the last true man on this earth. And:
May I smoke? The voices outside soften. Planes jet past heading off or back.
Someone cries that she does not want to go to bed. Footsteps overhead.
A fountain in the neighbor’s yard babbles to itself, and the night air
Lifts the sound indoors. It was another time, he says, picking up again.
We were pioneers. Will you fight to stay alive here, riding the earth
Toward God-knows-where? I think of Atlantis buried under ice, gone
One day from sight, the shore from which it rose now glacial and stark.
Our eyes adjust to the dark.
Continue reading here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/55519/my-god-its-full-of-stars
Here is the last part of the poem with a reading by Tracy K. Smith:
My review of River Ghosts
River Ghosts is the perfect name for this beautiful collection, which gives the reader glimpses into the poet’s life in the present, shadowed by memories, and coloured by traditions and behaviours passed down by her parents, and the ancestors that came before them. It is, in essence, an insight into the factors that make the poet who she is, and that have shaped her thoughts, ideas, and actions.
I found the ideas of loss contained in this book, interwoven with the concepts of long-lasting memories and loved ones living on through us, their offspring, compelling and delightful. For me, it made the overwhelming thought of the losses that must come, more bearable. Love, and the family traditions and behaviours we continue to honour, and pass down to our own children and grandchildren, bind us strongly to those who came before and to those who will come after. I love that idea.
A few examples of beautiful stanzas and/or lines:
“a tiny glove in the street,
the small hand grows colder
now unclasped from a larger one.”
From Observe, And Again
Above and about, dreams soar –
I pluck one from a thousand –
of red petals crushed beneath rocks
after a storm, like blood drops growing, glowing”
From Almost, and Never
“Once some brilliant star breathed time
in the after-wake of explosion and danced across a universe
exploring eternity”
From And If Always Lives
This poetry collection is a wonderful investment of time and mental energy.
River Ghosts Amazon US purchase link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09WZ8F9XJ
About Merril D. Smith
Merril D. Smith is a poet living in southern New Jersey. Her work has been published in poetry journals and anthologies, including Black Bough Poetry, Acropolis, Anti-Heroin Chic, The Storms, Fevers of the Mind, Humana Obscura, and Nightingale and Sparrow. She holds a Ph.D. in American history from Temple University in Philadelphia and is the author/editor of numerous books on gender, sexuality, and history. Her full-length poetry collection, River Ghosts (Nightingale & Sparrow Press) was Black Bough Poetry’s December 2022 Book of the Month.
Twitter: @merril_mds
Instagram: mdsmithnj
Blog: merrildsmith.org
US Amazon Link for River Ghosts: https://www.amazon.com/River-Ghosts-Merril-D-Smith/dp/B09WZ8F9XJ
UK Link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/River-Ghosts-Merril-Smith-ebook/dp/B09XKLDG6Q
