Why I Write Poetry: Daniel Ari

In 2017, I started a “Why I Write Poetry” series of guest posts. I’ve already received so many, and I hope they keep coming in (details on how to contribute below). Today’s “Why I Write Poetry” post comes from Daniel Ari, who writes, “The words we use have amazing stories. And the letters we write and the sounds we make are such a deep magic that even though both are as common as dirt, I have never been able to get over them.”

Daniel Ari is poet laureate of Richmond, California. He edited and produced The 2017 Richmond Anthology of Poetry, the city’s first, representing 62 diverse voices. His book One Way to Ask (Norfolk Press, 2016) combines original poems in a new form called queron with illustrations created and curated in collaboration with 67 artists including Roz Chast, R. Crumb, Henrik Drescher and Wayne White. The book won the Eric Hoffer da Vinci Eye Award for design and was a finalist for the Lascaux Poetry Prize. Daniel supports and fuels his poetic life through his career as a marketing copywriter.

*****

Master Poetic Forms!

Learn how to write sestina, shadorma, haiku, monotetra, golden shovel, and more with The Writer’s Digest Guide to Poetic Forms, by Robert Lee Brewer.

This e-book covers more than 40 poetic forms and shares examples to illustrate how each form works. Discover a new universe of poetic possibilities and apply it to your poetry today!

Click to continue.

*****

Why I Write Poetry: Daniel Ari

“In the beginning was the word…”
 -New Testament, John 1:1

Daniel Ari

My parents are well-spoken and articulate, and they instilled in my brothers and me a love of language. At age three, my older brother used to point and say, “Obelisk.” (We lived in D.C. at the time, not far from the Washington Monument.) I am credited in family stories for making up words, for adopting a whisk broom as a toy and onomatopoeically calling it my “shush.” At around four, I coined the word wipekin, which I thought a better name for a piece of paper or cloth used for wiping—and not for napping.

Growing up, I wrote rhymes for fun. I started writing more earnest poems in high school to win the attention of a girl I had a crush on. Robert Brewer also claims this as his trailhead to a lifetime of writing poems, and I know it isn’t out of the ordinary. Positive feedback from teachers and peers created a virtuous cycle of writing, receiving encouragement, and writing more.

But besides the habitual aspect writing now has for me, what remains central to my well of inspiration is the phenomenon of language itself. It still mesmerizes me how humans as a species developed and evolved this system of abstracting reality into sounds and symbols that we can transmit across time and space—let alone from mind to mind.

Take words right here in this short essay, how articulate, onomatopoeically, cloth all say something quite complex to you with amazing brevity and considerable clarity. You can even understand what I meant by wipekin. (I’ve long since learned that the suffix -kin is a diminutive. Adding it to the word for cloth, nappe, yielded napkin. It’s also why men named John are sometimes nicknamed Jack; and Henry, Hank. The nicknames are shortened forms of Johnkin and Henkin.)

The words we use have amazing stories. And the letters we write and the sounds we make are such a deep magic that even though both are as common as dirt, I have never been able to get over them. So on one level, it just grooves me to engage the vast, deep, complex phenomenon of human language in attempts to express the ineffable feelings and perceptions I experience. And on another level, it’s just fun for me. It’s my form of artful play.

My palette keeps filling with words, and the words keep changing. Though they are abstract and ephemeral, dark squiggles on a light background or combinations of frictions in the mouth and throat, just look at all they can do!

*****

If you’d like to share why you write poetry, please send an e-mail to robert.brewer@fwmedia.com with a 300-500 word personal essay that shares why you write poetry. It can be serious, happy, sad, silly–whatever poetry means for you. And be sure to include your preferred bio (50-100 words) and head shot. If I like what you send, I’ll include it as a future guest post on the blog.

*****

Find more poetic posts here:

You might also like:

  • No Related Posts

11 thoughts on “Why I Write Poetry: Daniel Ari

  1. Linda Voit

    Thanks for a joyous read, Daniel! I have enjoyed your April PAD poems over the years and look forward to another “season”. Many years ago, my daughter questioned why we would not call an umbrella a “rainbrella”. Good question.
    I appreciate your referral to our tools of letters and sounds being as common as dirt. All that feeds our bodies, in some way, springs from dirt. It only makes sense that what feeds our minds and spirits comes from something as common and as rich.

  2. PressOn

    I’ve often marvelled at how you can make words twist and turn and do so many marvellous things. Looking at your picture, I think I begin to understand why.

  3. Jane Shlensky

    Daniel, this essay is so well wrought I read it twice for the pleasure of it. My word for a broom was ”skish” and lint of all persuasions was “muffledy”—both of which I was sure would take off among kid-speakers. The love of language doesn’t preclude tinkering with it. Thanks for your wonderful writing.

  4. Marie Elena

    Daniel, you are one of the names I’ve watched for in this “Why I Write” series. I knew your words would blow me away. I knew you would share the same outlook on this topic as most of us, but would have a unique and intriguing way of expressing it. I’m thrilled, and full! Thank you, always!

  5. Nurit Israeli

    Thanks for this, Daniel. The power of words does not cease to amaze me – the ways we put them together, and the fact that humans continue to create them in thousands of different languages (6909 according to the Ethnologue…) Your ways of both describing words and using them is truly special!

  6. Sasha A. Palmer

    “And the letters we write and the sounds we make are such a deep magic that even though both are as common as dirt, I have never been able to get over them” — I haven’t, either 🙂 To be aware of the miracle of language is a great reason to write poetry. Thank you for sharing, Daniel.

COMMENT