Last week’s post was a bit of a passionate rant about how important it is to share poetry, and to do so in ways that are pleasurable.
All week I have been wondering why I didn’t mention a little piece of research that I came across during my doctoral studies and which I often cite. So, here it is: reading poetry does magic stuff to your brain that reading prose doesn’t. In short, a study using fMri (a brain scan technology) found that when participants read their favourite poetry the parts of their brain related to memory and physical reaction (like shivers down the spine) were activated. For a better explanation, you can see this news report here or, if you want the more detailed scientific paper, you can search an academic library for the full article by Zeman, Milton, Smith and Rylance (abstract here) .
I love it when science proves what we poetry lovers already know – that poetry is a whole body, whole self activity. Because while we don’t need scientific proof, that evidence is great for sharing with poetry doubters.
And, while I must confess that I have not written a poem of my own this week, I figure this is a good time to share a poem which definitely gives me all the feelings.
A Quoi Bon Dire
Beautiful Sa Pa.
by Charlotte Mew
Seventeen years ago you said
Something that sounded like Good-bye;
And everybody thinks that you are dead,
But I.
So I, as I grow stiff and cold
To this and that say Good-bye too;
And everybody sees that I am old
But you.
And one fine morning in a sunny lane
Some boy and girl will meet and kiss and swear
That nobody can love their way again
While over there
You will have smiled, I shall have tossed your hair.
Why this poem? It is a little sad, but, for me, it warms my heart with its observations (even celebration) of love, and how we can hold that love long after someone has left our lives. It may be a romantic love, but in my case, this week marks anniversaries of two losses – my sister and my father – and it doesn’t matter that are gone six years and one year respectively – I love them just as much now as I did when I could see them.
I’m off to read more poetry and more thoughts about poetry because today is Poetry Friday. The roundup is being hosted Jama So if you want to activate your brain, head over there and do some reading of your own:)
This is why so many teachers are scared of poetry in the classroom. It activates emotions, which are bodily, and uncovers powerful truths, which are sometimes hard to “manage” in the traditional sense. In this way poetry is radical and subversive–and beautiful and necessary. Thanks for this, and a wonderful poem too.
The poem you shared is beautiful and poignant, Sally. I’ve been thinking a lot about grieving lately, having recently lost my father and facing a dear friend’s grim diagnosis. I keep coming back to the idea that love seeds grief and that you never have one without the other. I love the timelessness of love in this piece. Thank you so much for sharing it.
Emily Dickenson knew words were a poem because of a physical sensation it elicited. It’s interesting research. The words you shared conjured up loss and the beauty of love and is lovely.
Thanks Janice. Funnily, I nearly chose a Dickinson poetry to share this week.
Sally, thank you for the research that “reading poetry does magic stuff to your brain that reading prose doesn’t.”. Today, in my post, I am sharing your name as one of the Poetryliscious Gallery poets.
Thankyou Carol. You do so much to share the magic of poetry.
I for sure have all the feels about poetry. It’s good to know that science backs it up. This poem is very sweet – and your reasons for choosing it are beautiful.
Thank you Kat.
Sally, this is a beautiful poem. I love how it celebrates the transcendence of love over time and physical loss. Thank you so much for sharing it. I’m not surprised that poetry supports our brain activity. I am been teaching with the science of awe for our natural world for almost two decades. Glad to know that poetry has a similar effect!
Thanks Carol.
The research doesn’t surprise but it does delight, Sally. Thank you for that. The poem’s reality fills me up with warmth. It is true that “love them just as much” as when they were with us, across the room, on the phone, in our arms. Thank you!
You are welcome Linda. Thanks for dropping in.
Knowing poetry is improves our brain health is all the more reason to love it! Thank you for sharing the report, Sally!
And thank you for dropping in, Linda.
That is so cool! Thank you for sharing!
You are welcome Sarah. Thanks for dropping in.
Thank you for sharing this poem. Tomorrow is the anniversary of my father’s death, and 13 years later it still feels like yesterday.
Commiserations Tricia. The number of years doesn’t make it easier. Thanks for dropping by.
Thanks so much for sharing that bit of science with us. Poetry feeds us in so many ways. Thanks too for the poignant poem — just what I needed as I’m getting all the feels as Mother’s Day is coming up on Sunday.
Thanks Jama. Mothers Day is a lovely day but also challenging to so many.
Your poem gave me all the feels, too. Thanks for sharing. And, of course poetry is brain magic. I can feel it when I write it and when I read it. More magic, please!
Thanks Marilyn. I think part of the magic is in breeds more magic – we get the feels we want to write and read more.
Great research! Thanks for that, and for introducing me to Charlotte Mew (via googling the title because I don’t know French). My mom would have loved this poem. She definitely felt connected to my dad even after he’d been gone for twenty-plus years.
Sorry Mary Lee, I meant to include a little about the poet, and a link, but time was against me this week. Glad you found it.
It is a little sad…but remembering loved ones becomes a welcome time in my days. I need to keep a copy of this poem. I just wrote this morning, “grief is not without it’s own joys.” Thank you, ,Sally!
I love your line, Linda. It is perfect. Glad the poem I chose spoke to you too x