Note from 2007 Poet Laureate, David Simpson:
Greetings! I come to you, not only as the current poet laureate of Montgomery County, but also as this year’s incarnation of E-Calliope, your on-line Muse. Please stop by this site from time to time for inspiration.

In my first visit as E-Calliope, I’d like to talk about the role of memory in poetry, but first, let me introduce you to my mother, Mnemosnye, daughter of Uranus (Heaven) and Gaea (Earth). She was an amazing Titan with the ability to remember everything and to place it in its proper order. (The Titans were the elder gods who ruled until they were overthrown by the Olympians.) It is from her name that the phrase “mnemonic device” (a trick for remembering something) is derived.

It is thought that Zeus, before taking Hera as his wife, posed as a shepherd and consorted with Mnemosnye (my mother) for nine nights, after which she bore nine daughters. Calliope (that’s me) was the oldest of them (I’m proud to say). It is no accident that memory engendered and was essential to all of the muses. Plato, in his work “Saetetus,” said as much:

"Please assume ... that there is in our souls a block of wax, in one case larger, in another smaller, in one case the wax is purer, in another more impure and harder, in some cases softer, and in some of proper quality...Let us, then, say that this is the gift of Memory, the mother of the Muses, and that whenever we wish to remember anything we see or hear or think of in our own minds, we hold this wax under the perceptions and thoughts and imprint them upon it, just as we make impressions from seal rings; and whatever is imprinted we remember and know as long as its image lasts, but whatever is rubbed out or cannot be imprinted we forget and do not know."


The Muse visits:
In this visit, the Muse once again asks you to dwell in the senses and to write from the body, since this is where memory lives in its freshest, most unadulterated state. Even before we had words, we had sensations—warmth, cold, wetness, hunger, the smell and taste of milk, someone’s touch.


The Muse challenges you:
Let your body take you to your earliest memory; then, write about it! At first, you might just jot down images and descriptive phrases. For some of you, the memory will be quite clear. But, if it isn’t, don’t worry: this can be a poetry of the unknown. Feel free to make up a “first memory” (you might be surprised). Even when we write about what we know, the best poems are those which, by the end, surprise us. Use the poem to tell a bold truth and a bold lie, and don’t indicate which is which.


The Muse Sets a Deadline:
Send your poems to Montcopoet@verizon.net by July 1st for posting on the E-Calliope blog.