Sometimes, poetry has a strong sense of place.
Sometimes, poetry is a place.
That poetry can be a place is a thing known intimately by the 90-and-change good folks who live near the intersection of Farm Roads 986 and 1565 in Kaufman County, in the little unincorporated town of Poetry, Texas. We made the discovery when Rick Maxson, the poet-editor behind our Every Day Poems publication, shared in a virtual editorial team meeting recently that he had, on behalf of Every Day Poems and Tweetspeak Poetry, adopted Poetry, Texas.
A few years ago, Falling Tree Productions spent some time in Poetry reporting for a podcast on BBC. The account is poetic in its own way, sharing interviews with the locals about the town’s history and ongoing struggle to keep the small community viable.
Like a lot of poetry, the town of Poetry started out as something else. The Texas Almanac (where you can adopt your own town for just $25) recalls that the town was first named by Elisha Turner after being awarded “a patent to a league and a labor of land” by Anson Jones, who was the last president of the Republic of Texas, back when that was a thing. Apparently along with patents and leagues and labors of land, a guy like Turner also got naming rights. There was some confusion at the post office, and in 1876 the postal service asked that the town of Turner’s Point be renamed to something less like another town. Good poetry has its own unique voice, so it’s fitting, really, that a local merchant named Maston Ussery suggested the name Poetry, “because the area in springtime reminded him of a poem.” The Almanac doesn’t say if he meant the idea of a poem or a real poem, and if so, what poem that might have been.
A lot has happened since 1876. We’ve put people in space and created telescopes big enough and powerful enough to see the whole galaxy. I imagine Maston Ussery might find that reminds him a little bit of a poem, too. And maybe he’d want to name a star after that poem, and after his place in Poetry, Texas.
He’s not here to do it, but Tweetspeak has always wanted to put poetry into space. On the moon, precisely, but with the NASA priorities as they stand right now we’re happy to work with the stars in the meantime. After Rick (our Every Day Poems editor) adopted a little town in Texas named Poetry, Tweetspeak took the liberty (or, poetic license as it were) of naming a star in a far off constellation for Poetry. You can even see it here, twinkling bright in the sky.
Like our little town, Poetry the star came with its own adoption certificate. If you visit the profile online, you’ll find a poem written for the occasion.
Poetry
probably began
in the stars.
Though some would
say it began
in the moon.
We’re choosing
stardust
at least for today.
Stardust
for you.
Just look to the sky
and open your hand.
*love, Tweetspeak
—L.L. Barkat
It is believed that we are all made, at least in part, from stars. Joni Mitchell sang at Woodstock that “we are stardust.” Carl Sagan said that “The very matter that makes us up was generated long ago, far away, in red giant stars.” Even Walt Whitman wrote that “A blade of grass is the journeywork of the stars.”
Astrophysicist Karel Schrijver has said that “most of the material that we’re made of comes out of dying stars, or stars that died in explosions. And those stellar explosions continue. We have stuff in us as old as the universe, and then some stuff that landed here maybe only a hundred years ago. And all of that mixes in our bodies.”
So if we’re made up of the stuff of stars, and stars are made up at least a little bit out of poetry, maybe it’s also true that we are also made up, at least a little, of poems. If that’s true, there’s plenty of space in … space … for more poetry. Not long after our star appeared in the Centaurus constellation, someone else adopted a star in the neighborhood (the star-naming people let you be neighborly like that) and named it Neruda. And then, soon enough, along came Emily. And then Sonnet.
We can’t all make the trip to Poetry, Texas. (Though I think Rick may have.) But we can meet in the stars. Join us in naming more of Poetry’s celestial neighbors (you can do it for free). Just visit our star’s page and choose “Name a Star Nearby.” We’d love to hear from you if you name a star. Tell us what name you chose in the comments, and if you write a poem for your star, all the better (but certainly not required).
We’ll be looking for you in the night sky.
Photo by Thanasis Papathanasiou, Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post by Will Willingham.
- Don’t Ask Why Book Club: From New York to Paris - November 10, 2021
- Don’t Ask Why: So Many Meteorites - October 27, 2021
- Don’t Ask Why Book Club: Dolores - October 20, 2021
L.L. Barkat says
I love this! Especially the part about maybe all of us having poems in us, via the stars. Fun musing. 🙂 Poignant, even.
I do look forward to some new poetic stars in the Poetry neighborhood in the constellation Centaurus. And I suppose there’s a poem in that, too. 🙂
Will Willingham says
I imagine there is. 🙂
Sandra Heska King says
I named two nearby stars.
Prufrock – For all those who dare.
Memory – In honor of all those hearts that beat to the rhythm of memorized poems
Will Willingham says
Very excited to have these neighbors. 🙂
Maureen says
A found poem sourced in your text:
Ode to Dying Stars
Night sky of dying stars
old as the universe,
you made space for us
in your springtime galaxy —
our explosions into being
like stellar little poems
that soon enough appeared
in a constellation made visible
from far away.
Will Willingham says
Really beautiful, Maureen. Thank you. 🙂
Katie says
What about “TweetSpeak” for a star name?;)
Here is another stacked poem inspired by this post:
“Texas Night Sky”
almanac
universe
galaxy
telescopes
space
stars
Centaur constellation
twinkling
TweetSpeak
stellar explosions
Neruda
Emily
sonnet
celestial neighbors
ascension
declination
magnitude
poetry
Will Willingham says
Love that title. 🙂
Katie says
Thank you, LW:)
Bethany R. says
Love this.
Katie says
shining
bright, luminous
distantly glittering
a sight we can hardly fathom
starlight
Katie says
Psalm 147:4 He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name.
Katie says
On November 5th, we and some others of my husband’s family gathered to celebrate his mother’s 90th birthday. What a fun surprise when my sis-in-law presented the birthday gal with the certificate showing a star named for her:) There was happy applause and jovial comments relating to the question: “What DO you get a nonagenarian, anyway?!”
In honor of the occasion and this strong woman I dedicate this cinquain in her honor:
lots and
lots of love shared
over many decades
nurturing, giving, showing us
the way
Will Willingham says
Oh, what a great gift. 🙂
jack griner says
[ picked out a star that was shining so bright
It hovered up high and would shine there all night
When a poem is for lovers they grab and hold tight
sliding on a rainbow but that star kept them in sight
jack griner says
I try to send a poem each day to poetry Com
doing it for a long time
jack griner says
Name that star Stay Put
Stay put couldn’t give in to temtation
Others wondered around to get more light
Stay put couldn’t help so warned them
just the other night
Don’t you know you may get lost
Read a poem about a star wondering
around over in the westernmost
Got mixed up so now they just coast
Will Willingham says
“Don’t you know you may get lost.”
There is something particularly endearing to me about a star saying this. 🙂
Rick Maxson says
LW, I finally have gotten in a few breaths after moving to Canyon Lake in the Texas Hill Country. This piece is perfect. I love all the information on stars.
I guess you could say that Poetry, Texas is a Haiku of a place. In Spring we might steal a thought:
The apparition of these daisies by the road; Petals on a wet, black bough.
John MacKinnon says
Enamoured Me
If my mom had named me Vincent
Would my go van blow a tire
If my mom had named me Pablo
Would my water flow like fire
If my mom had named me Salvador
Would my real name be Dali
If my mom had named me Ludwig
Would my symphony still be
If my world had circled Saturn
Could I give the Sun a ring
If time hurled from forward fissions
Would I still hear Lennon sing
If my mom had named me Vincent
Would all my colours still bleed through
If my mom had named me Pablo
Would my pieces still seek you
If my mom had named me Salvador
Would my sky just be a door
If my mom had named me Ludwig
Could my music matter more
If my universe was tiny
Would my thoughts grow larger still
If my mom had named me Vincent
Would my starry night fulfill
Jmac
Will Willingham says
“Would my sky just be a door” — I like that. 🙂 Thanks for sharing, John.
John MacKinnon says
AbSOLution
And in the final desperate times
The children all were gathered
The dogs released to scout the line
Where nothing living mattered
And rockets raced upon their marks
High up amongst the heavens
Now sturdy cedars withheld brave barks
Becoming hidden havens
Yet all the while the rivers wept
For streams lost coinciding
The mothers treasures closely kept
Near arms grown weary hiding
And lastly before stars were joined
An instant moment later
Old Sol the Sun, new light purloined,
Smiled back at the Creator
Jmac