The new Write Out Loud Poem of the Week is ‘Lorraine Motel’ by Colin Hill, about the former motel in Memphis where Martin Luther King Jr was assassinated in 1968, which is now part of the National Civil Rights Museum. Colin wrote the poem while on his current road trip around the US “to discover (maybe) the meaning of the American Dream”. His poem concludes with a reference to “this black guy / a taxi driver / who offers to take my picture / under the motel sign / with a cheery smile / and have a nice day / I'm humbled / once again.” In his answers to Write Out Loud’s questions, Colin reveals that one of his favourite open mic haunts is Browns Hotel in Laugharne, legendary watering hole of Dylan Thomas.

 

How long has poetry been an important part of your life and can you remember why it became so?

As an angst ridden teenager poetry seemed the natural choice. My heart always ruled my head. I was forever falling in love. My heart was always being broken. Bedsit days in Brighton. Trips across the channel to Paris. All the ingredients were there. Except the poetry was crap! Well most of it.

 

What kind of poetry do you write?  What motivates you?

Gosh that's a tough one. My writing continues to change and I try not to allow myself to get stuck in cul-de-sacs. I'm always looking for a different angle, a new perspective, some new way to interpret the world around me. I'm not sure there is any one style to my writing but I am acutely aware of how a piece reads, is spoken and how it looks on the page. I will often go back and change the odd word or rearrange lines even after posting. If I can achieve that flow in my head then I'm reasonably happy.

Of late I have concentrated on being less autobiographical. A little while ago I deleted all my work from WOL and took a break to find new inspiration. As some of you are aware I am currently on a two-month sabbatical in the States and my recent posts have been inspired by the people, culture, history and landscape of this curious and contradictory nation. There's a link to my blog on my profile page.

I have no idea what motivates me to write. There have been many years when writing wasn't a part of my life. And now it has once again become a central part of my being. I hope to improve. I want to finish the books I have half written. I want also to thank WOL and the friends I have made here for their support and understanding. It's really very much appreciated. I guess we write because we have to.

 

If you could only have one poet’s work to read, which one would you choose?

I recently answered this question on a discussion thread so if it's ok I will copy and paste.

Henri, Patten and McGough. Sorry that's three but they get lumped together as the Liverpool Poets from the 60s. I first came across them as a teenager and instantly thought this was the way to write. There was a simplicity and innocence that was new to me. And they weren't afraid of joining words together and experimenting with formatting and presentation. I think their work is as important as anything that has gone before. If I had studied them at A-level instead of Shakespeare and Chaucer I might not have dropped out after only two months! Admittedly my teachers were awful, the school was failing and I had other distractions.

That said, I appreciate there is a place for poetry ancient and modern, that we all have different tastes. There is no right or wrong way to write. And language evolves. When the younger generations invent new words it doesn't mean the old ones have been deleted. It means we have more to choose from and play with.

 

Do you perform your work and if so, where are your favourite places to perform?

I started performing less than a year ago. The purchase of my doughnut shirt kinda helped. I cannot memorise but I'm ok reading out loud and it's been a great confidence booster. My two favourite places are The Queens in Carmarthen and Browns in Laugharne. Dylan Thomas used to drink in Browns when he lived at the Boathouse down the road so that's some history to live up to. The regular P&P [Poems & Pints] crowd there are lovely.

 

You're cast away on a desert island. What's your luxury?

Chocolate. I've given up or drastically reduced most of my vices but I will never give up chocolate. Ever!!

 

 

LORRAINE MOTEL

by Colin Hill 

 

 

I stood outside

the Lorraine Motel

it was worth the drive

all that way downtown

through Memphis blues

and torrential hell

you see the roads

in South Louisiana

were mostly underwater

and the weight of traffic

was re-routing north

in endless convoys

of eighteen wheelers

queuing to be weighed

at each state border

but anyways

that's kinda by the by

I'm glad I came here

on this rainy Tuesday

the museum was closed

no need to pay

just insignificant me

and a few curious others

wandering about outside for free

standing, looking

contemplating

this landmark location

in a nation’s history

the murder scene

that's little altered

since April 1968

when that fatal shot of hate

was fired

from a boarding house window

across the yard

a moment captured

for us future generations

in black and white

a testimony for the world to see

on that famous motel balcony

and right outside room 306

now hangs a wreath

a reminder of the weight

he likely carried

the knowledge that

his days were numbered

and I am truly humbled

not knowing what to think

or feel

but some kind of sadness

I turn to leave

maybe one more witness

to this black guy

a taxi driver

who offers to take my picture

under the motel sign

with a cheery smile

and have a nice day

I'm humbled

once again.