The Poet (delayed): Recent Episodes
Scott Edgar
I dabbled in poetry in high school and into my early 20's but then stopped writing for almost 20 years. A few years ago, a number of personal issues came to a head and I had no real choice but to face them and start working through them. As part of that working through them, I began writing poetry again and it has become a very powerful and effective tool for me in rediscovering and reconnecting with myself, which is at the heart of my recovery. In The Poet (delayed), I'll share some of my poetry and discuss it with different guests. But the real point of the podcast is to use my poetry to start conversations about trauma, healing and personal growth.
TERRIBLE POTENTIAL I see it now For years I only sensed it Or saw the dissipating dust tails of its approach But it filled me with terror And there was no cover or protection So I ran As fast as my child stride could take me Not even knowing what it was – Only that it was coming But that made the fear so much more In my little mind So I ran harder Until I forgot why I was running – Only knowing that I couldn’t stop But I see it now Its shape is fluid and undefined And its terrible potential fills my mind I want to keep running – retreating But it won’t stop and It’s closing the gap and It’s more terrible than I ever thought But its real – I see it now And I know There’s no escape, there never was. But I want to keep running anyway Until it overtakes me I won’t see it coming; it will just happen and be done But my insufficient legs refuse to carry me anymore So I prostrate myself as an offering I know you’re coming, I whisper, And I offer myself willingly This is not defeat, I reassure myself Then lower my eyes And brace for its fury But my mind keeps moving – defiantly It knows truths that my body forgot And reminds me: You were born with claws And they’re with you still – And I remember and feel them They are deep, but I feel them and they are there So, I raise my body from the dirt and My eyes to the distance It is closer now – the gap disappearing But not my fear. My fear is growing (broadcast loudly by my beating heart) But I no longer want to run Nor offer myself willingly Instead, I watch it come and I wait – in fear, true But I wait to receive it And I steady myself. I have claws and I feel them And I will meet it face to face I have terrible potential too I feel it now. I'd love to hear what you have to say about the episode including thoughts on the poetry and the topics that were discussed. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. My first book of poetry, My Mother Sleeps, is availabe for purchase at The King's English Bookshop (https://www.kingsenglish.com/search/author/%22Edgar%2C%20Scott%20R.%22) and Amazon.com (http://www.amazon.com/Scott-R.-Edgar/e/B0B2ZR7W41%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share) Holding my book at The King's English Bookshop https://files.fireside.fm/file/fireside-uploads/images/b/b1c4f464-ff8b-4fd1-8632-8c458a232c1a/olfoSxre.jpeg
TERRIBLE POTENTIAL I see it now For years I only sensed it Or saw the dissipating dust tails of its approach But it filled me with terror And there was no cover or protection So I ran As fast as my child stride could take me Not even knowing what it was – Only that it was coming But that made the fear so much more In my little mind So I ran harder Until I forgot why I was running – Only knowing that I couldn’t stop But I see it now Its shape is fluid and undefined And its terrible potential fills my mind I want to keep running – retreating But it won’t stop and It’s closing the gap and It’s more terrible than I ever thought But its real – I see it now And I know There’s no escape, there never was. But I want to keep running anyway Until it overtakes me I won’t see it coming; it will just happen and be done But my insufficient legs refuse to carry me anymore So I prostrate myself as an offering I know you’re coming, I whisper, And I offer myself willingly This is not defeat, I reassure myself Then lower my eyes And brace for its fury But my mind keeps moving – defiantly It knows truths that my body forgot And reminds me: You were born with claws And they’re with you still – And I remember and feel them They are deep, but I feel them and they are there So, I raise my body from the dirt and My eyes to the distance It is closer now – the gap disappearing But not my fear. My fear is growing (broadcast loudly by my beating heart) But I no longer want to run Nor offer myself willingly Instead, I watch it come and I wait – in fear, true But I wait to receive it And I steady myself. I have claws and I feel them And I will meet it face to face I have terrible potential too I feel it now. I'd love to hear what you have to say about the episode including thoughts on the poetry and the topics that were discussed. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. If you're interested, my poetry that I read on this podcast was recently published in my book My Mother Sleeps which is available at Amazon.com (http://www.amazon.com/Scott-R.-Edgar/e/B0B2ZR7W41%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share) and The King's English Bookshop (https://www.kingsenglish.com/search/author/%22Edgar%2C%20Scott%20R.%22) Special Guest: Justino Foster.
BEACONS In the days When my horizons shifted, I remember you and The gifts you brought to me: tenderness, love and protection. But in my youthful confusion, Knew not how to receive them – I had known them from a different horizon. But that horizon went dark in an instant (without warning) Though not entirely – there was protection still But love and tenderness, Those beacons were extinguished, it seemed, Until they flamed up again, But now on your horizon and (without waiting) You brought them to me – Unconditionally and ad infinitum. I'd love to hear what you have to say about the episode including thoughts on the poetry and the topics that were discussed. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. If you're interested, I recently published two books of poetry which are available on Amazon.com: My Mother Sleeps and On Becoming a Black Hole (http://www.amazon.com/Scott-R.-Edgar/e/B0B2ZR7W41%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share) Special Guest: Aunt Kash.
Inconsequential At what point is my absence Inconsequential? When they’re too young to know the need? (But that time is gone) Certainly not now In the midst of life’s straits With foamy waves pounding And hidden reefs lurking Beneath an angry, fluid surface. No; Not now. Now they need a captain (is that presumptuous?) Who has already navigated a similar course – though more Hazelwood than Magellan. (well, all Hazelwood and no Magellan) Perhaps that time will be When they’ve helmed their own ship. Is my absence inconsequential then? Can I cross the bar then? Of course they’ll think of me and perhaps Want to see my face and Hear my voice (or have me hear their voice and see their face) But would my absence harm them? in those later years? That is the question. But here’s the better question: Would my absence now be better than running them aground, again and again and taking on salty water to no seeming end? I’ve given it a go. But the ship lists endlessly and The course seems fucked. Would the idea of me Be better than the reality? That is the real question. No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Mannor of thy friends or of thine owne were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee. John Donne, Meditation XVII (from Devotions Upon Emergent Occassions, 1623) I'd love to hear any thoughts about the episode including thoughts on the poetry and the topics that were discussed. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. If you're interested, I recently published two books of poetry which are available on Amazon.com: My Mother Sleeps & On Becoming a Black Hole (http://www.amazon.com/Scott-R.-Edgar/e/B0B2ZR7W41%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share) Special Guest: Jason Langston.
I'd love to hear what your thoughts on the topics that were discussed in this episode. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. "The noble soul has reverence for itself." - Frederic Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil If you're interested, I recently published two books of poetry which are available on Amazon.com (http://www.amazon.com/Scott-R.-Edgar/e/B0B2ZR7W41%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share) Special Guest: Nate Morris.
I'd love to hear what you have to say about the episode including thoughts on the poetry and the topics that were discussed. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. THE SADNESS WILL LAST FOREVER I feel you here. I sense your soul in the quiet darkness Of the slow. flow of le Rhône As she wanders under your Starry Night Past the place of your Yellow House. I sense you too in the day light, As the yellow sun arcs Through the sky of broad, blue strokes. I see the fields, littered with Ancient Rome, In your colors yellows, greens and blues As if painted in windmilled paints Bright and layered thick. And the heavenward sunflowers turn their heads. As if searching for you Wanting to be immortalized on your canvas. But you've been gone for ages Your sadness took you away. Adam's questions to ask yourself about creativity: What does creativity mean to you? What is your greatest fear around creating art and sharing it? How does your inner critic affect your creative process and where are you most sensitive to criticism? When did you realize you were creative and how was that nurtured or not nurtured? When and what areas are you most open to criticism as it pertains to your art? My first book of poetry can be purchased from Amazon by clicking this link: My Mother Sleeps (http://www.amazon.com/Scott-R.-Edgar/e/B0B2ZR7W41%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share) Special Guest: Adam Nisenson, MA, LAMFT, CSAT.
I'd love to hear what you have to say about the episode including thoughts on the poetry and the topics that were discussed. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. A SUBTLE WOUND You left me when my world Was measured by a child's stride. You had to go away for awhile, I was told To ease me into the truth: You were gone And not coming back. It was involuntary, I know Your leaving But intent is not part Of trauma's calculus So I was not spared - Though the wound went unnoticed: There was no nervous response Or reflexive recoil As when you touch a hot pan. It was subtle: no bleeding, no blistered flesh. Just a change in routine And one less setting at the table. Jackie Pack's Podcast: Thanks for Sharing (https://healingpathsrecovery.com/addiction-recovery-podcast/) If you're interested, I recently published a book of poetry which is available on Amazon.com: My Mother Sleeps (http://www.amazon.com/Scott-R.-Edgar/e/B0B2ZR7W41%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share) Episode Cover Art by Ginny Rose Stewart on Unsplash Special Guest: Jackie Pack, LCSW, CSAT-S, CMAT.
Jason and I watched the new Elvis movie Thursday night and this is our review. We both gave it 8 suede shoes out 10. I'd love to hear what you have to say about the episode including thoughts on the poetry and the topics that were discussed. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. If you're interested, I recently published two books of poetry which are available on Amazon.com (http://www.amazon.com/Scott-R.-Edgar/e/B0B2ZR7W41%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share) Special Guest: Jason Small.
I'd love to hear what you have to say about the episode including thoughts on the poetry and the topics that were discussed. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. I’m joined by Jason Small in this episode as I read my poem “Besieged” and we discuss the difficulty of facing challenges to our way of thinking and being and how we’ve dealt with it. BESIEGED Possibilities march On my walled city of certainties And lay siege. If you're interested, I recently published two books of poetry which are available on Amazon My Mother Sleeps (http://www.amazon.com/Scott-R.-Edgar/e/B0B2ZR7W41%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share) Special Guest: Jason Small.
I'd love to hear what you have to say about the episode including thoughts on the poetry and the topics that were discussed. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. YOUR FATHER’S SON Your soul was large It needed to consume newness again and again But the Chicago frontier Hemmed you in You couldn't expand. So you crossed the cold, Impersonal Atlantic To the hot, Exploding Italian front Where death nearly took you. It was simple, you said You looked at it and knew But you consumed it and moved Gaining immunity, it seemed For death couldn't take you On its own- though it tried again and again But it couldn't take you – until Ketchum Where your father's shadow waited. If you're interested, I recently published two books of poetry which are available on Amazon (https://www.amazon.com/Scott-R-Edgar/e/B0B2ZR7W41/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_book_1) Thank you for listening. Special Guest: Ryan Thomas.
In this episode, I read Khalil Gibran’s passage on pain from his book, The Prophet and discuss pain, including discomfort and fear, and the impact it’s had in my life. I also, discuss ways that I’ve found to work through pain such as finding meaning in it. I'd love to hear what you have to say about the episode including thoughts on the poetry and the topics that were discussed. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. On Pain And a woman spoke, saying, Tell us of Pain. And he said: Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain. And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy; And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief. Much of your pain is self-chosen. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity: For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen, And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears. If you're interested, I recently published two books of poetry which are available on Amazon.com (http://www.amazon.com/Scott-R.-Edgar/e/B0B2ZR7W41%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share)
In this episode, I read my poem, “Emperor Concerto, II” and I’m joined by Ric de Azevedo as we discuss the power of music. “EMPEROR CONCERTO” II The strings prepare me Like a good opening act, For the moment the piano comes in Like a ballerina on point Delicately entering the stage. I’m speechless every time. In awe (reverent almost) As my body absorbs the sound waves Harnessed two centuries ago by a deaf man Who arranged them into beauty Then converted them to ink and Stained them on paper. And now I sit, transfixed, As a modern-day acoustic alchemist Transmutes the ink back into waves And floods me with euphoria. [Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-Flat Major, OP. 73 "Emperor," II. Adagio un poco moto (mosso)] Real Live Girl (https://youtu.be/oYrMS7jdkG4) I'd love to hear what you have to say bout the episode including thoughts on the topics that were discussed. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. Special Guest: Ric de Azevedo.
I'd love to hear your thoughts and comments regarding the topics discussed in this episode. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. Thank you for listening! UNCONDITIONAL Thrust into mortality New and unbroken yet And you, Having just crossed the valley, With tender reach Pull me close to your body Which was broken for me. In your safety, Your heartbeat communicates to me Of love Of possession – I belong to you. In that moment, I alone am your world. I alone am your joy. Poems read by Aunt Kash: Triolet Against Sister, Phyllis McGinley Sisters are always drying their hair. Locked into rooms, alone, They pose at the mirror, shoulders bare, Trying this way and that their hair, Or fly importunate down the stair To answer a telephone. Sisters are always drying their hair, Locked into rooms, alone. Troilet Against Sisters with notes by Aunt Kash's mom (https://files.fireside.fm/file/fireside-uploads/images/b/b1c4f464-ff8b-4fd1-8632-8c458a232c1a/7iZVIuZy.jpeg) Emily Dickinson poem recited by Aunt Kash's mom: If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain. Also, if any of you are interested, I recently self-published a couple books of poetry and they are for sale on Amazon.com (only in paperback at the moment). My books (https://www.amazon.com/Scott-R-Edgar/e/B0B2ZR7W41/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_book_1) Episode image is my mother and my sister, Melissa. Special Guest: Aunt Kash.
I'd love to hear any of your thoughts or comments regarding my poem or our discussion in this episode. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. Thanks for listening. FORGOTTEN WALLS Clarity comes And the walls reveal themselves – tall, strong and immovable. In the haze and fog, Which is his daily walk, Their existence is blurred; They are forgotten Though he was there when they were built, and even added stones. Now in clarity, he looks to bring them down – stone by stone. And so he works relentlessly, with pick and hammer As his salty sweat stings his eyes and His muscles and mind fatigue. Yet his only yield from this Sisyphean task is Bloodied palms and frustration, While the stones remain, one upon the other. Then slowly and imperceptibly, (under cover of his exhausted heart and mind) The fog seeps back again And hides the stony barricade. The image used as the cover art and on the header is a painting of Sisyphus by Titian. (By Titian - [2], Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3860214) Special Guest: Josh Baron.
Life is tragic and it is easy to get bogged down to the point where we just wake, eat, work, sleep, repeat or we suffer traumatic events that may cause us to withdraw into a seemingly protected existence. In both instances, we miss out on living a meaningful life and on experiencing the invigoration of being human. I feel that this poem by Rilke discusses the moment we become aware that there is a vibrant life to be lived and the realizations surrounding that awareness. It seems to encapsulate the beginning or the call of the mythological hero's journey. [Ignorant before the heavens of my life] Ignorant before the heavens of my life, I stand and gaze in wonder. Oh the vastness of the stars. Their rising and descent. How still. As if I didn't exist. Do I have any share in this? Have I somehow dispensed with their pure effect? Does my blood's ebb and flow change with their changes? Let me put aside every desire, every relationship except this one, so that my heart grows used to its farthest spaces. Better that it live fully aware, in the terror of its stars, than as if protected, soothed by what is near. RM Rilke I'd love to hear any comments or thoughts about this episode. You can email me at poetdelayed@gmail.com. Thanks for listening.
I've spent most of my life hacking at the branches of my problems and having no sustained improvement as a result. Over the last few years, the roots have started to be more clear to me and now I'm making more efforts to strike them. One of the axes that I use is poetry - writing poetry, specifically. In this first episode I discuss that process and I share and talk about my poem "The Poet's Call." The Poet's Call Write hard words To break your soul against Redemptive words too To bind it up again. _Also, I referenced a poem by E. E. Cummings _ may I be I is the only prayer--not may I be great or good or beautiful or wise or strong. - Cummings and one by Rainer Maria Rilke. God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night. These are the words we dimly hear: You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me. Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in. Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final. Don’t let yourself lose me. Nearby is the country they call life. You will know it by its seriousness. Give me your hand. Book of Hours, I 59