Although I wrote poetry in my late teens and early adult years, demands of study and work kept me writing other things. Now and then I read poetry, but only resumed writing it about 15 years ago. Encouraged by some writer friends, Places and Times (eLectio Publishing) was released in 2015. This book considered the interplay of several places where I lived and their importance for my development.
My second book, Accents (Blue Deco Publishing 2017) has a thematic structure that involves my love for languages and places. Looking back over my life several leitmotifs, or accents, appear. These involve the careers I have had in education, the Army, and as a Lutheran pastor. There are connections only became significant to me later, but are clear to me now.
I hope that readers can share in my journey, and perhaps reflect on their own. This column introduces the reader to some of my poems, and to who I am. While I read a lot of poetry, my major influences are Whitman, Eliot, Auden, and Rilke.Contact us if you would like to share your poems.
To My MentorsNot every teacher or older colleague is a mentor. But there have been some with whom I have kept in touch, or at least think about often as I conduct my own careers. Far too many are gone now, and this poem is for them. In some way I hope that some younger colleagues and/or students see me as a mentor.
How do we become who we are?
more than genetic configurations
or environmental influences,
A series of individuals
at times working in concert
but usually in isolation
temporal and spatial
excavates our potential,
burns away our dross
exposing enough of inner diamond
for us or someone else
to labor on its perfection.
So many strove to fashion
the person I eventually became
whether by duty, pity, or vision
they listened, corrected, and modeled.
Certain of them offering
glimpses into themselves
apart from classroom and office
allowing access to their reality.
As time passed and distances grew
contacts grew infrequent and
confidence replaced inquiry.
intention to offer thanks or write
overwhelmed by agendas and action.
Faces set toward the future
prevent recollection of all things past.
When numbing reality seized me
that some of them had departed
familiar settings, no longer connecting
at conference to recall halcyon days.
I resolved to let no more of them
enter the undiscovered country
hearing no words of gratitude from me,
without seeing the immortal diamond
glistening from this poor potsherd
that they earlier discerned and polished.
And I in my way doing the same for others.
Arthur Turfa, Accents, © 2017
Blue Deco PublishingCurrent and past articles from the Poetry is Perfect: More than Words column: