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Do you want to turn your dumb feelings into beautiful poetry? Do you want to take something as mundane as a plastic bag floating on the wind and turn it into a Nobel Prize in Literature? Do you often find yourself using the phrase “ere”? Then do we have a fun project for you! There is a popular poetry workbook written by the famous poet Steve Kowit titled “In the Palm of Your Hand”. I’ve been really enjoying it, and I think it’s helped me develop some of my poetry writing ability. You don’t need to buy the book! With mod approval, I will be summarizing content and posting smaller quotes to help describe the books content and the exercises. The plan I have in my head for this thread is to go through one chapter’s worth of concept each week, with participants discussing the ideas and then executing the associated two to three exercises. Generally this involves analyzing other poems and writing a poem or two of your own. Obviously these are lofty goals but I think if we can get a few people together each week we’ll get some good discussion and critique going. This is not intended to be a huge commitment. You do not have to participate in each week. Please feel free to come and go as you please. This first post is to sort of judge interest and I’ll post the first week’s concepts and exercises this weekend sometime. At the very least I plan to go through the book and post my work here, even if no one joins me. As a bit of a warning, Kowit does ask the reader to embrace difficult content, both in terms l of remembering things from the reader’s past (possibly traumatic) and in the poems of other writers. Kowit believes that engaging with these memories/content can help the reader work through their own feelings and generate powerful poems. I hope some of you will join me! Look for a new post soon.
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# ¿ Mar 31, 2018 05:01 |
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# ¿ Apr 23, 2024 19:38 |
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Section 1: Speak, Memory Chapter 1: I Couldn't Stop Watching One of the central themes to this section, as evidenced by the title, is the power and emotion that memory can hold for the poet. These memories don't necessarily have to be dramatic ones (although one could certainly argue, as Kowit does, that the more intense the emotion, the stronger the poem), and in fact Kowit opens the section with a poem by the Spanish poet Antonio Machado: Memory from Childhood A chilly and overcast afternoon of winter. The students are studying. Steady boredom of raindrops across the windowpanes. It is the schoolroom. In a poster Cain is shown running away, and Abel dead, not far from a red spot. The teacher, with a voice husky and hollow, is thundering. He is an old man badly dressed, withered and dried up, who is holding a book in his hand. And the whole child's choir is singing its lesson: one thousand times one hundred is one hundred thousand, one thousand times one thousand is one million. A chilly and overcast afternoon of winter. The students are studying. Steady boredom of raindrops across the windowpanes. ----- We can see that this poem is not one about true love or furious anger but instead it draws on the monotony of a dreary schoolroom. What's great about this poem is a combination of its simplicity and its vivid, descriptive language. Kowit highlights these, stating Machado "evokes not just the dullness of his childhood classroom, but something too of the magic in which even unpleasant memories of the past are likely to be draped." The specificity of the language is what helps bring Machado's classroom to life. It's not just a poster of a Bible story, it's specifically Cain running from the spot where he murdered his brother. It's not just an old teacher, but one who is badly dressed and appears to have lost all the joy he might have once taken in teaching. By avoiding generalization (e.g. "boredom of raindrops" vs. "bad weather", listing out the choir's chant instead of just saying "reciting times tables") Machado transports us into the classroom. The simple nature of the poem, which avoids flowery language and overwrought description, adds to the impact of the poem. The structure of the sentences is not complex, nor does Machado waste space with words he pulled from the thesaurus. The efficiency of the poem gives it power. Kowit tells us "If you had imagined that poetry required exotic and dramatic subject matter, this poem should convince you that the most commonplace experiences can be transformed into powerful writing." Our takeaways from this example are thus that poetry does not require exotic language or overly complex structures, but that it does require us to paint as specific a picture as possible. This isn't to say that metaphor (which Kowit covers later) should be avoided; rather it's that our metaphors should be specific ones. A second example, "Power" by Corrine Hales, describes a train as "A hundred iron wheels tearing like time". This is a metaphor for a train, calling into our minds' eye the physical train itself but also the immense power of its motion, which is as inevitable as the progress of time. Hales does not simply say "a train", which would be simple and direct, but uses a specific language to have the reader imagine a train. Some other themes from this section: Narrative: Getting the Story Told For the poem's author, one of the main purposes of the writing is to give the reader an experience. Regardless of what your poem might be about, its going to depend at least partially on the author's ability to tell a story. As with most creative writing, "show, don't tell" is an important concept. Telling your story by implying emotion though physical description rather than telling the reader what is being felt is an important concept and one that will make your writing more effective. Narrator and Author ... don't necessarily have to be the same. Even if you have a memory ("I remember when Kyle jumped off that cliff into the lake and we all thought he was dead"), you don't necessarily have to be truthful in your conveyance. You might want to write that poem from Kyle's perspective, telling it as if you experienced the jump yourself. That's well within your creative license as the author. Conflict and Suspense A poem does not need to be narrative-driven. Machado's poem does not necessarily have conflict or suspense, but it's still an effective poem that can give the reader a vivid experience. "Power" is Hale's story about two siblings that manage to get a train to stop by setting up a dummy on the tracks, is absolutely full of conflict and suspense. As the train obliterates the dummy, and the conductor comes out onto the tracks at first angry and then drops to his knees, weeping, the reader is swept up into the narrative. The Power is in the Details As covered above, effective writing has specific imagery and does not rely on generalizations. "My brother and I put a fake person on the train tracks and the train hit it and a guy got out and was really mad" is not an effective sentence. Compare that to "the man was falling, sobbing, to his knees, and I couldn't stop watching. My brother lay next to me, his hands covering his ears, his face pressed tight to the ground." One is certainly better than the other. The Gentle Art of Lying / Theme and Point of View You don't need to be truthful with your poem's details. As touched on above, playing with the details of your memory (or someone else's memory) can make a poem more effective. Likewise, your memories don't have built-in meanings. Your experience of when your mother yelled at your brother for coming home after curfew might be pretty funny to you, but could have been traumatic for your brother. Your poem about the experience could be from either perspective. Furthermore, what was funny in the moment might actually be interpreted differently by forty-year-old you, who realizes that your mother was actually very abusive toward your brother and that memory was just one example of many. Kowit tells us that "We understand events in different ways at different times." When you set out to write a poem, you might not know where you're headed or what the poem's meaning is "supposed" to be. Discovering how you feel about the material in the moment can help build a poem into something great.
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# ¿ Apr 1, 2018 08:05 |
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Exercises for Week 1 Exercise 1: Recovering Memories Let's draw out some stuff from our pasts to write about! Jot down a phrase or two describing a memory for the following questions. The goal of this exercise is to drum up some potential content for our first poem. (If you're playing along at home, you do not need to post these) 1. Recall a pleasant experience. 2. Recall a home you once lived in. 3. Recall a secret you once held. 4. Recall a person you remember fondly. 5. Recall an incident that you dreaded. 6. Recall something dangerous or dumb you did as a kid. 7. Recall something you did that was bad. 8. Recall something that happened at school or on the playground. 9. Recall your first crush. 10. Recall something hilarious that happened to you. Exercise 2: Taking Notes for the First Poem Choose one of the incidents that has the following properties: the experience is narrative-driven, the experience calls up strong emotions when you remember it, and the experience is one for which you can conjure detail. Go through the memory in your mind and write down as many specific details as you can recall. Remember Machado's poem, with its vivid detail and lack of generalities. You may have to go through the memory several times to capture all the details. Exercise 3: The First Poem Kowit recommends to use one of the following three formats for your first poem. 1. A Childhood Memory Tell your story in 35 lines or fewer, as effectually as you can. Make sure the incident is held to one scene - one physical location - and if your memory has more than one location pick the one that will give you the strongest narrative. Do not use end-rhyme in this poem. Instead of trying to increase the complexity of your poem through structure or exotic language, focus on "the compression precision, and clarity of your phrasing". 2. Working With Structure Take one of your recollections and write a poem in the style of Machado's "Memory from Childhood". Capture the mood of a place and time by focusing on just a few details. This poem might be less narrative-driven, but can bring to life a memory of an event that was repetitive, or that happened over a long period of time. There isn't any inherent drama or conflict. Gather four distinct sets of details about the occasion and use one in each of four stanzas. If it works with your poem, use the same graceful repetition of the first stanza in the last stanza. Do your best to convey the mood of the moment to the reader efficiently. 3. Family Secrets This poem might focus on a series of scenes to capture an entire period of your life. Do not try to give the reader an exhaustive list of details but rather pick a few that will effectively capture the general tone of your experience. Exercise 4: Revising the First Poem After you've completed your first poem, re-read it to yourself a few times to see if you've managed to capture what you meant to glean from your memory. Kowit writes "inexperienced writers [often] find it hard to separate what they know about an incident from what they have told the reader, with the consequence that crucial information never gets conveyed." Be sure to realize that what excites you about the poem (which is about you or your memory) might not excite the reader. Sometimes by revising your poem you might realize a different detail or two that would be more effective in the telling. Take a day or two between writing and revising in order to look at your poem with fresh eyes. For people posting their poems, write your revised poem into a second post so we can see the changes between drafts one and two. ----- FOR OUR VIEWERS AT HOME Okay, if you've read this far then maybe you're interested in writing some poems! Due date for these exercises is Saturday, April 7th. I'll post my own work sometime between now and then. Chapter 2 will be up (hopefully) later that evening.
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# ¿ Apr 1, 2018 08:06 |
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Thank you for being brave! It’s really hard to post my work too. You just have to realize that we’re in this journey together and getting better is a common goal. Here is my pre-revision poem. Blankets I was six and you were losing weight. We sat on our back patio watching your tulips bloom, curled under your patchwork quilt that was green like the grass Dad wouldn’t stop fertilizing until it burned brown. I was eight and you had stopped sleeping. Our first trip to the bay that I spent with grandma watching the gray whales you spent at the research center. Beneath a fuzzy 49ers bedspread we listened to grandma cry. I was nine on the day you died. Packed into the gym I watched them stop the candy sale fundraiser and call my name. Dad and I parked in the back of the Fred Meyer lot and sobbed under the blanket of a blue spring sky. I am thirty and you are gone. My daughter shrieks and giggles running through Stella Park on too-long legs in too-small shoes. I tuck her in under your green quilt, now rough and frayed, stitched with my memories of you.
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# ¿ Apr 3, 2018 17:51 |
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Here is your crit. Also for other readers I promise to critique every poem that gets posted. lofi posted:
I like it. You’ve got good bones here about a person embracing nature to clear their head. The repetition of “walking” is a good anchor. You’ve got places to get more specific, more show-y, but you’ve also got places where you’ve painted a picture to draw the reader in.
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# ¿ Apr 3, 2018 20:53 |
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lofi posted:Thanks for the crit! The comment in Exercise about struggling to seperate what you know and what you've said is bang on, it's something I always struggle with - I think I'm being subtle, I'm actually being opaque. In this case, the non-sequiter of 'then fear [fades out]' - referring to my goon-bingo-card agoraphobia. Which went away in a field, of all places. Editing time! Thank for the nice words When I crit poems (and keep in mind I don’t have years of experience doing this) I’ll read it, wait, read it again to make sure I have the message, and then critique it. I like to do a line by line, judging each image or stanza on its own, and then comment on the end on how the piece fits together. Honestly just throw out what you think works and what doesn’t- there’s no wrong answers here. There’s a bunch of online resources too for learning how to critique poetry.
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# ¿ Apr 4, 2018 22:41 |
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lofi posted:Sorry teach, lifestuff has come up, so I'll be a day late on my revision. Took a poke at it this morning, but my rewrite put a weird tonal clash in there that I want to resolve before I post it. No hard limits dude- I’ll throw up my revision today and the next part today or tomorrow . Doesn’t mean we’re leaving your poem behind. Don’t try to force anything!
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# ¿ Apr 7, 2018 16:34 |
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Here is my revised poem, including title: Patchwork I was six and you were losing weight. We sat on the back patio watching your tulips bloom, curled under your patchwork quilt. It was green like the grass Dad wouldn’t stop fertilizing until it burned brown. I was eight and you weren’t sleeping. Our first trip to the bay, that I spent with grandma watching the gray whales, you spent at the research center. Under a fuzzy 49ers afghan grandma cried in the bedroom. I was nine on the day you died. Packed into the gym I watched them halt the D.A.R.E. fundraiser and call my name. Dad and I parked in the back of the Fred Meyer lot and sobbed under the blanket of a blue spring sky. I am thirty and you’re still gone. My daughter shrieks and giggles, running through Stella Park on too-long legs in too-small shoes. I tuck her in under your green quilt, now rough and frayed, stitched with my memories of you.
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# ¿ Apr 7, 2018 22:42 |
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Section 1: Speak, Memory Chapter 2: Little Poems in Prose pre:Something must have been bugging my father the day I asked him for fifty cents in the upstairs kitchen, because although he was always a sweet and gently man and gave me most everything I asked for, this time he turns aroudn from the sink where he is washing dishes and starts swing- ing at me fronthand and backhand, again and again, his face contorted with a rage I never saw before or again. I shrivelled into the chair by the kitchen window sobbing and begging this stranger to stop. Eventually he does, and the silence of the rest of our lives swallows the moment forever. While prose generally brings to mind a short story, or novella, or even a novel, it can be a very powerful tool in writing poetry as well. Here, the poet gives a view into a moment that completely changed his relationship with his father. Pay close attention that even though the format of the poem is missing what we might expect, the language of the poem is still full of specific (and figurative) language. Kowit writes that poems such as these were popularized in the mid-nineteenth century by the poet Charles Baudelaire, who penned his "Petits poemes en prose". Poems such as these almost resemble short stories, and in some cases might be indistinguishable. Obviously this style is still driven by the same things that make other poems successful: specificity and telling through action. "There is no hard and fast boundary between [prose poems and short stories]" writes Kowit and that prose poems will generally focus on a single event or moment, while short stories tend to follow a series of moments. You could possibly consider prose poems to be flash fiction, or "short-short stories". Just like examples from our previous section, prose poems can be both narrative or descriptive. Consider the following example: Considering the Accordion The idea of it is distasteful at best. Awkward box of wind, diminutive, misplaced piano on one side, raised Braille buttons on the other. The bellows, like some parody of breathing, like some medical apparatus from a Victorian sick-ward. A grotesque poem in three dimensions, a rococo thing-a-me-bob. I once strapped an accordion on my chest and right away I had to lean back on my heels, my chin in the air, my back arched like a bullfighter or flamenco dancer. I became an unheard of contradiction: a gypsy in graduate school. Ah, but for all that, we find evidence of the soul in the most unlikely places. Once in a Czech restaurant in Long Beach, an ancient accordionist came to our table and played the old favorites: "Lady of Spain," " The Saber Dance," "Dark Eyes," and through all the clichés his spirit sang clearly. It seemed like the accordion floated in air, and he swayed weightlessly behind it, eyes closed, back in Prague or some lost village of his childhood. For a moment we all floated--the whole restaurant: the patrons, the knives and forks, the wine, the sacrificed fish on plates. Everything was pure and eternal, fragilely suspended like a stained-glass window in the one remaining wall of a bombed out church. -Al Zolynas With this poem Zolynas paints a vivid picture of the accordion, which he initially mocks with "parody of breathing" and "grotesque poem in three directions". And yet at the end of the poem he shows us a moment in which the grotesque becomes "the agent of ... illumination". Kowit tells us that this "epiphanic moment" is one where the reader (or even poet!) is given a revelation. It shows us a world where things are more beautiful, or meaningful, or sublime. Zolynas's poem juxtaposes the ridiculous accordion with a master player and how the combination of the two gives the patrons an experience that showed a world more magical and transcendent than they thought possible. Writing Prose Paragraphs Your effectiveness in writing a poem in prose will depend on the same skills as other poetry. Even though your structure is different, your language must still be precise. Writing in prose can be useful for beginning poets, as there is less to worry about with regards to structure, allowing one to focus exclusively on writing a graceful paragraph. Write, re-write, and polish short prose descriptions until your ability to craft the language is honed and you feel comfortable enough to move on to playing with structure. Beginning with something simple, like describing objects around you, can be good practice. Exercises for Week 2 Exercise 1: Uncover more memories Again, jot down a few notes for the following prompts. Maybe some memories are too difficult right now, and that’s okay. Set them aside and move on. As you repeat this process with new memories, uncovering and working on through traumatic events will become easier. 1. Recall an incident you wouldn’t want to share with others 2. Recall an incident involving a parent or guardian that still angers you today 3. Recall an incident in which you felt betrayed 4. Recall an incident in which you were humiliated 5. Jot down a memory that popped into your mind but suppressed while working on this exercise 6. Recall an incident that made you joyful. Exercise 2: The Three- or Four-sentence Prose Poem Pick a memory that can be condensed down into three or four sentences. You might start with far more than that, but use that initial material to pare down to an effective subset of details. Your sentences might be long, which is fine, but don’t overburden them with too many images. Write and re-write until your story is told effectively and powerfully. If you find this prose exercise stimulates your mind, write another, this time five to eight sentences long. Exercise 3: The Object Poem Write a poem in the style of “Consider the Accordion”. Pick an object from your house or home and write down five imaginative comparisons about it. It can be that these comparisons are fanciful or not. The object may be one that holds great sentimentality or just one to which you don’t pay much attention. Hold the object; contemplate it completely. Use the comparisons you’ve written to bring the object to life for the reader. Revising your poems When looking for a critic to help you revise your poems, find someone who will give you honest feedback that can help you improve. Do not tell your critic the meaning of the poem beforehand. Let the reader find their own way, as this will be an effective measure of how well you communicated with your poem. Listen to feedback, as it can help you recognize where your poem is weak or strong. At the same time, be confident in your writing ! If you feel you’re happy with how a particular line has been handled, don’t change it because a critic told you so. ———- For those of you playing at home: let’s have a due date of Monday, April 16 for these poems.
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# ¿ Apr 10, 2018 07:27 |
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lofi posted:
Overall you’ve definitely add more concrete imagery, but the descriptions still need a little work. Keep working on it! Maybe put it aside for a few days and plug at it with fresh eyes. quote:As I said before, I really like yours. The weakest parts for me are cultural things with no connection to me (britgoon) - 49ers, Fred Meyer, D.A.R.E. I can see why you've used them, but to someone less familiar with them they're a bit jarring, especially the acronym. I'm not sure if that'd be possible to resolve without losing some of the relevance of the poem, though. The first verse is my favourite, every line is really on-target and adds a facet to the story.
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# ¿ Apr 10, 2018 18:51 |
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lofi posted:I'm a city kid, irl cows are plenty monolithic to me - I didn't know beef was that big! :P Keep in mind Kowit points out that it’s totally okay to tell your critic to stuff it. If you think a line is good, don’t screw with it. You know your poem best. I really like your prose poem! It’s definitely capturing a disappointing moment; i can easily parse out how you are feeling. A few suggestions: 1. “At the fish and the fish” is a little clunky. Try to avoid forcing a “poetic” description, as it usually sabotages your poem. “I looked at one fish, and then the other.” Is one potential way- it sets the reader’s expectations and then subverts them when you talk about how one is real and the other not. 2. Lines 3 & 4 are awesome. Simple and effective. 3. Your last line falls flat. Your jaw clenched from avoiding an outburst is there and well-described, but I’m maybe missing the point of the last line. Good poem, I liked it a lot!
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# ¿ Apr 11, 2018 06:28 |
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I’m just gonna post it before I decide to trash it. I don’t like this poem; I’m not happy with it largely because it’s cliche (daddy issues) and the imagery is disjointed (shepherds sling vs space stuff?). —— I considered sending my father’s call to voicemail; one more digitized copy of “hey, bud” tossed on the already stale pile cluttering up my memory. On this Thursday however — my thirty-first birthday — I took the call and the quiet pain of my father’s voice was a shepherd’s sling against my iron heart. The stuttered snips of conversation stretched out as if gravity pulled extra hard that day on just us two, until the universe finally saw fit to pull our orbits apart. On the next Thursday, and for all the Thursdays thereafter, there were no more calls.
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# ¿ Apr 12, 2018 16:28 |
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lofi posted:
I think so too! I really like the idea of time dilating due to extra gravity as a metaphor, but I think it really doesn’t work here. The shepherd’s sling was just a nice phrase I liked, but the point was basically “a stone against a tank” - I’m wondering if there isn’t a less “biblical” reference. The object poem is proving difficult for me too. Still working on it...
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# ¿ Apr 12, 2018 19:52 |
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I cannot write this object poem. It’s just not coming. I liked your poem a fair bit.lofi posted:
It was a good exercise. You captured the spirit of the pencil, and the preciseness of your language was a fun complement to the preciseness of the pencil itself. In that sense your poem was a success! I don’t think it needs colorful metaphors if you don’t- this poem works as it is.
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# ¿ Apr 15, 2018 02:10 |
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This has been a stressful week at home and work and as such I think my creativity has suffered. That said I’m happy with the bones of this- I welcome any suggestions on fleshing it out (feels abridged) and improving the cohesion. Cook’s Knife The knife has been handed down from father to son, junior to third to fourth, like old money or old myths. The ebony handle, hand-carved from an African blackwood imported from the base of Kilimanjaro, imbues the sweet sweat of its creator into every tear-dropped onion and hothouse tomato. Every day the blade, already sharp like mother’s tongue, is honed by the master’s touch, bringing the knife forward into purpose-driven life like the touch of God on Eden’s living clay. Alone, in the rack, it is simply inert wood and dead steel; but in the chef’s hand it flashes like the teeth of wolves in the darkness, transforming flesh of fruit, vegetable, and protein alike into the building blocks of culinary divinity.
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# ¿ Apr 15, 2018 08:12 |
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Section 1: Speak, Memory Chapter 3: Shards of Memory Some memories that we choose to write about are life-changing, big, unforgettable events, driven by strong passion. These events are deep-seated within us and are often a core part of who we are, making them excellent mines for poem content. But Kowit states that “...many others are likely to be those vagrant, momentary encounters that are memorable for no apparent reason: experiences that are part of the fabric of our ordinary daily lives but that for some reason remain significant enough to be remembered.” Take the following poem: it gives us scattered, non-chronological snapshots of the poet’s life, and in doing so offers charm to the reader in both the content and structure of the poem. How I Knew Harold Around 1981 we run into your old girlfriend on an elevator. She's wearing black leather pants and a tank top. She asks how I like New York. We are all sweating bullets. I want to say it sucks, but the doors open and she's gone. We miss our floor. Around 1953 Mom tells the family she's pregnant. My brother bounces around the living room with a pillow on his head wailing "it will change our whole lives!" This story is recounted each year around my birthday. Around 1978 I leave home to move in with Jack. Dad and I are standing in the driveway. They don't want me to go. He's Jewish. Mom packs ham sandwiches and slips me two twenties. I move back in three months. Around 1979 my friend Sandy plays taps at a funeral gig, so I go along. I walk up to the casket in my boots and fur jacket. I'm checking out the deceased when a woman grabs my elbow. She wants to know how I knew Harold. Around 1972 my sister tells me and my parents she's gay. Dad says it's unnatural and they start arguing. I keep quiet. Mom goes into the kitchen to make sundaes. Around 1962 my brother feels like scaring the hell out of me and chases me around the house with a butcher knife. I hide behind Dad's suits. It smells like Old Spice. Around 1969 I tell my parents over dinner that I'd live with a man before I'd marry him. Dad says it's unnatural. I tell him to get his own dessert. Around 1963 Grandma gives me ten bucks for learning the times tables. Around 1957 Dad and I sing My Darlin' Clementine every morning on the way to school. Around 1968 Patty Bryant and I run out on the check at Woolworth's. Around 1964 Mom colors her hair–starts wearing eye shadow and mascara. She's standing over a steaming sink in a pale green mohair singing "Edelweiss." She looks absolutely radiant. - Deborah Harding Here we see strong parallelism with each stanza, the repetition of “Around” giving an anchor throughout the poem. The style of the poem is less dramatic than others, with an almost conversational, chatty tone. Kowit writes that “this is very much a family album with quick but telling portraits...” We are able to see how the poet relates to her father, mother, siblings, and how she sees herself in the telling. Playing with the structure of the poem gives the poet freedom to add herself into not only the content but the very form of the poem itself. Kowit gives another example of this structural creativity in “People Who Died” by poet Ted Berrigan. Pat Dugan……..my grandfather……..throat cancer……..1947. Ed Berrigan……..my dad……..heart attack……..1958. Dickie Budlong……..my best friend Brucie’s big brother, when we were five to eight……..killed in Korea, 1953. Red O’Sullivan……..hockey star & cross-country runner who sat at my lunch table in High School……car crash…...1954. Jimmy “Wah” Tiernan……..my friend, in High School, Football & Hockey All-State……car crash….1959. Cisco Houston……..died of cancer……..1961. Freddy Herko, dancer….jumped out of a Greenwich Village window in 1963. Anne Kepler….my girl….killed by smoke-poisoning while playing the flute at the Yonkers Children’s Hospital during a fire set by a 16 year old arsonist….1965. Frank……Frank O’Hara……hit by a car on Fire Island, 1966. Woody Guthrie……dead of Huntington’s Chorea in 1968. Neal……Neal Cassady……died of exposure, sleeping all night in the rain by the RR tracks of Mexico….1969. Franny Winston……just a girl….totalled her car on the Detroit-Ann Arbor Freeway, returning from the dentist….Sept. 1969. Jack……Jack Kerouac……died of drink & angry sickness….in 1969. My friends whose deaths have slowed my heart stay with me now. --- We can see immediately that this does not look like other poems we’ve read so far. This is a simple, brutal list and in it we can see how each death weighs on the poet’s mind. Kowit calls it “...an authentic, disarmingly moving elegy” and he is right. Exercises for Week 3 Exercise 1: A Process for Recovering Fugitive Memories 1. Jot down a list of some of the places you’ve lived. 2. Jot down a list of some of the jobs you’ve had. Include the weirder ones or ones that ended badly. 3. Joy down a list of old friends, people you don’t see much anymore. 4. Jot down two embarrassing things you’ve done and a lie you once told. 5. Jot down a list of remembered kisses. 6. Describe a piece of clothing you once loved, a piece of music you still love, and two old movies you remember. Exercise 2: Shards of Memory Write a poem with the same structure as “How I Knew Harold”. Begin each line with the phrase “Around 19-” or some variation on it (for contemporaneous memories). Plug in a few items from the memory recovery, sketched with vivid, well-chosen details. If you recall other related things, add them to your poem for the first draft. Jumble the chronology so that the memories don’t move in a clear progression. Make sure as well to connect two or three of the memories to give your poem internal structure. The idea of this poem is capture the mix of memories together to give a global snapshot of you- do not give a chronological, carefully linked set of memories. Find the order that feels right to you. Keep a light tone, avoiding excessively “poetic” language or eloquence. However just because the tone is light does not mean the sentences can run without polish. Choose your lines and details carefully to keep the reader engaged. The end goal is a set of autobiographical anecdotes about your life. Exercise 3: A List Poem Write a poem based on “Those Who Died” - it could be “..Kissed” or “People I’ve Hurt”. Keep each line item sparse, but make sure that the content is varied to avoid sounding monotonous. Try to keep the list format, but feel free to vary the details (include dates or no dates, etc.). A First Principle When working on these or any poems, remember that “...there is only one essential rule for writing: it must be interesting to read!” —- For those of you playing at home: due date for these poems is Monday, April 23rd. See you then!
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# ¿ Apr 16, 2018 05:16 |
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Sorry for the subject matter but it’s just what was on my mind. Married ten years in July! Edit: I changed the title to be less crude and give an implication. If I were to submit this somewhere I’d change it back depending on how edgy the journal was. Places We’ve Been ... in the sun on the sand in Lincoln City. I was shivering from adrenaline, not the cold. ... in your mom’s van on that side street by the park. ... in the car, driving back from St. Louis. You kept popping back up, bright red, every time a semi passed us. ... in that shed, the one on your dad’s farm that stunk of hay. It was one hundred degrees that day. ... in the hammock at midnight, where your skin shone like body-warmed pearls. ... in the beach house. Everyone was on the deck watching fireworks. We stood in front of the window so we could both watch too. ... in our second apartment, up against the front door. I had just picked you up from the airport. Ten years of carnal tourism that’s gone by like the lightning bolt that hit me when I first saw you. sephiRoth IRA fucked around with this message at 17:48 on Apr 19, 2018 |
# ¿ Apr 18, 2018 17:01 |
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Sorry for the double post, I’ll get some critiques up later.
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# ¿ Apr 18, 2018 17:01 |
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lofi posted:I do not get this type of poem. Like, both those example ones seem terrible to me, I had to catch myself from skipping over lines as I was reading. I guess that's the point of learning, though, trying new stuff out. Well, here's my memory slurry: I liked it. You’ve got a strong couple of stanzas there that give us a really great look into your life. The last stanza feels out of place. I also don’t get this style of poem. It’s a bit lost on me. You did a good job though. I’ll take a crack at mine shortly.
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# ¿ Apr 19, 2018 17:42 |
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spectres of autism posted:
You’ve got good bones there. Focus in on the narrative concerning your relationships.
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# ¿ Apr 19, 2018 19:01 |
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I think I’m having the same issue. What I’m showing the reader versus what I know. Thanks for the crit!
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# ¿ Apr 20, 2018 05:41 |
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Around 1993, my dad took me to see Jurassic park in the theater. I was seven and have never had a movie theater experience that lives up to it since. Around 2014 I spend my sixth anniversary away from my wife. We try to see Edge of Tomorrow at the same time in different states. I find out later she got the times wrong and didn’t go. Around 1995 I see Toy story with some friends for a birthday party. It’s the first movie I’ve seen since my mom died. I cry at the part when Buzz loses an arm. Around 2003 I see Kill Bill in the theater with my friend Nick. It rivals Jurassic Park. This is the last time I speak to Nick for the rest of my life. Around 2018 I watch Inside Out with my four-year-old daughter. We both cry at the end, for different reasons. Around 2008 I watch Red Dragon and drink Big Gulps with my wife in our fancy honeymoon suite. We bought it off a rack in the 7-11 near the hotel; me in my tux, her in her dress. Around 2001 I see Fellowship of the Ring with my youth group. Everyone is dressed up but me. I start skipping out on Sundays. Around 2017 I watch Get Out by myself. I live-text my reactions to Morgan, who’s home watching our daughter so I can get a break. We laugh about it afterward.
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# ¿ Apr 20, 2018 22:12 |
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lofi posted:Things made of metal. I liked it. Very descriptive. A few lines that fall flat but otherwise very good.
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# ¿ Apr 20, 2018 22:49 |
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Thanks! I think I meant to write that I didn’t think anything would beat it at the time- and then juxtapose that with “kill bill almost beat it” later, but that missed the mark a bit. I can see your problem though, it does read contrary. Spectres, I have not forgotten about you! Crit up soon. Also I’ll have the next section up this weekend. Thanks for participating! I’m really enjoying this
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# ¿ Apr 21, 2018 03:39 |
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spectres of autism posted:these are both a little short This one needs some work. It’s missing some detail to flesh out your snapshots. It’s got some language issues- your descriptions are more tell than show. Be careful with picking the memories you choose. We aren’t able to get an idea of who you are because your memories are not specific and they cause me to lose interest.
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# ¿ Apr 21, 2018 20:25 |
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Gimme an extra day dudes sorry next chapter is a long one
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# ¿ Apr 23, 2018 06:49 |
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Part 2: The Secret of Writing Chapter 4: Awful Poems The Missing of You Hurts O you who were there all the time to show how much you truly cared, so that I knew you’d evermore be true, and gladden my heart like the sun-kissed clime But left me like the tide that goes out and we can never stop it or get it repaired, You are the only one I care so much about and yet where is to be found another like you when I look within myself or even out? I often cry thinking of you know who, and your last goodbye and yet it is indeed to me a huge question mark why you left me here to feel this way like I am dead inside making it the one and only happy day where I can see your sweet hazel eyes and face. Pretty terrible, right? There’s a ton of issues with this poem, from the language choice to the fact that this could easily be written in prose. It’s a perfect example of show, don’t tell. To make things worse, all of the sentiments are conveyed in “dull, commonplace language”. Take in some of these examples: “You truly cared” “you’d evermore be true” “sun-kissed clime” When you combine all of this with the overly complex structure of the lines themselves - “When I look within myself or even out” - you’ve got a ton of awkwardness in one poem. Kowit writes “awkward writing is awkward writing whether in prose or verse. Avoiding Trite Language In our example poem, the author is solely using cliches, which is a surefire way to convince your reader that you think superficially and your poem is unlikely to reveal true emotions and experiences. Poems written in cliché also tend to lack originality, because you’re using language that is common. Your poem will drag when you fill it with this type of writing. Rhyme at Any Cost Another problem with this poem is the forced rhyme. In our example poem, the author forces a rhyme, which leads to the use of a ton of ridiculous and nonsensical language. “Abandoning all sense for the sake of a rhyme is a sure sign of a poet who imagines that poetry is a lot of foolish nothings that sound pretty”. Rhyme can be absolutely fatal to a poem when its sloppily used. Avoiding Archaic Words and Poetic Inversions Archaic language, even though some phrases were very common in older poetry, can kill a poem just as easily as badly forced rhyme. In our example poem, the poet might have thought that such words gave a more “poetic” feel to the poem, when the reality is that it made the lines stilted and detracted from the meaning the poet intended to assign them. Poetic inversions is when the order of a phrase is flipped from its normal scan into a more complicated structure. “Within myself or even out” is one example from our awful poem. Inversions like this often sound comical to more experienced readers and often have the opposite effect of what the poet meant: insincerity when the poet meant to express a genuine feeling. Kowit writes “the poet has chosen an easy, soppy, prettified language of the sort that people (who don’t read poetry) sometimes imagine is quintessentially poetic”. The message here is don’t try to sound poetic, just write what you feel. Simple is often best. Sentimentality: Emotional Slither Self-pity, disgustingly saccharine displays of affection, and overly dramatic expressions of morbidity are probably going to turn even the most dedicated depressive, romantic, or gothic reader off. If you consider our example poem, the author seems to be unable to tell us anything genuine about the loss of his loved one, whether it is his emotional response to them leaving or how badly he wants them back. Vagueness is rife throughout the entire poem, leaving the reader without any sort of real idea about how the poet feels. “The less you talk about emotions in general terms, the better. The more you describe events that convey emotions, the more effective your writing will be” writes Kowit. “When my wife left me I was depressed for days” is far less interesting and less effective than something like “My wife left me. I spent the next week in greasy sweatpants, binging on ice cream and Meg Ryan rom-coms” (your mileage may vary- there’s plenty of cliché in that second line too). But it’s the showing here that’s the important bit. SHOW us, DON’T TELL us. There’s a reason it is a fundamental rule of creative writing. Adjectivitis There is nothing wrong with using adjectives. Let’s state that first. It’s the overuse that leads to problems. When a poet uses too many adjectives, they lose some immediacy to their poem and phrases become weaker instead of strong. Dusty paintings, darkened alleys, cobwebbed attics- pick and choose where to put that adjective in to make it the most effective. Inappropriate Imagery In another example poem (not published here), a poet inserts the phrase “a boatless winter lake”. On its own, without context, you might expect that line to be effective in conveying a sense of isolation, or sadness. It’s too bad that the rest of the poem isn’t about water, or boats, or winter, or really anything tangentially related to any of those things. Boat imagery might be appropriate in a poem about a fishing village or rain, or a sailor lost at sea, but in a poem about your mother’s garden they are out of place. The Misuse of Allusions and Mythology Somewhat related to the inappropriate imagery, don’t go throwing around Greek and Roman references in your poem about hooking up with your Tinder date in the back of your Lyft. I don’t want to hear about her “Venus-like beauty” or the Lyft’s Hermetic speed. Kowit puts it best: “Let those poor old retired gods rest in peace.” That said, if your poem is centered on mythology, go crazy. It’s fine to use mythological references if that’s the conceit of your poem. Clarity, Simplicity, and Directness Stick to the core of what you want your poem to mean. There’s a really good creative writing exercise where you are told to write a story in 50 words- then 100, then 500, then 1000, etc. etc. It teaches you to be efficient with your language. Likewise, start simple. Write your poem with directness and see how much power it has. You can always go back and flesh out things later. Consider the following example: The Portrait Stanley Kunitz, 1905 - 2006 My mother never forgave my father for killing himself, especially at such an awkward time and in a public park, that spring when I was waiting to be born. She locked his name in her deepest cabinet and would not let him out, though I could hear him thumping. When I came down from the attic with the pastel portrait in my hand of a long-lipped stranger with a brave moustache and deep brown level eyes, she ripped it into shreds without a single word and slapped me hard. In my sixty-fourth year I can feel my cheek still burning. Kunitz’s poem has power in the simplicity (and brutality) of its word choices. There’s no attempts to drop in “poetic” language or to obscure what he’s trying to convey. The figurative language that is present is appropriate to the rest of the content. Ego “Poetry that is self-aggrandizing usually has the same effect as people who are self-aggrandizing – an unpleasant one.” Be careful with the thesaurus, and avoid trying to impress people with your erudition, as it’s likely to backfire. sephiRoth IRA fucked around with this message at 04:55 on Apr 24, 2018 |
# ¿ Apr 24, 2018 04:52 |
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Exercises for Week 4 Exercise 1: Critiquing a Poem Here is an early draft of a poem. Read the poem critically and thing about what’s keeping it from being effective. List out individual lines (or just do a line-by-line. Be specific with your criticisms. Tracks of the Wandering Mind I want sometimes naught but to weep as standing by the trestle deep I long to follow that railroad train to a realm of dream that’s free of pain. What an urge I have to stray somewhere on a train that’s bigger than a bear which climbs up toward old mountain peaks and watch the sea for days and weeks. A train to some vast tropic isle where swaying beauty makes me smile. But the trains of reality just skitter off and my city home where pollution does cough doesn’t let me see the pyramids or drink till dawn with memory’s kids or ride off to the orient to get away from this discontent. But today something inside me went through a shift and gave my spirits that needed lift, and I bid adieu to my dreams of escape while the train roared through like a ghostly shape. --- 1. Circle the archaic word in the opening line. 2. Circle a phrase in line two that seems artificial because it is inverted in a way that is unnatural in spoken word. 3. What is silly about line six? Why do you think the poet wrote the line that way? 4. Circle two phrases near the end that seem stale. 5. Re-write the first sentence (four lines) to be more effective. Exercise 2: Creating Images and Scenes that Convey Emotions Here are five statements that tell us what the writer was feeling. Retool them with descriptions that show rather than tell us the emotions. You’ll have to invent specific situations to fit the lines. 1. She felt very sad. 2. That summer at camp he missed his mother. 3. The letter confused her. 4. He felt angry. 5. She begged him to stay. Exercise 3: Rewrite Go back to a poem you have already written or been working on, one that you can now see has some work to be done based on the tips from this chapter. Rewrite the poem to make it more effective. If you have to start over, that’s fine- sometimes being able to salvage a really solid line or two is worth junking the rest. —— For those of you playing from home, let’s try to finish these exercises by Monday, April 30th.
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# ¿ Apr 24, 2018 04:55 |
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Part 2: The Secret of Writing Chapter 5: The Art of Revision Some poems are lucky enough to write themselves in one attempt, coming together in an inspired flurry of words and meaning. Most of the time, however, a poet must work over several sessions, days or weeks or months or even years, to call a particular poem “finished”. Kowit writes that “if there is any secret to writing, it is rewriting – a process that can be every bit as exciting as getting that first draft down on paper.” Poets who frequently call a first attempt a “final draft” will not progress as fast as those poets who revise their work. Cold critical eyes are required to look at one’s own work, and sometimes if you are having difficulty disconnecting from the emotional rush of finishing your poem, setting it aside for a few days might be helpful in approaching it later with a bit more objectivity. Here is a poem in need of revision: Tracks of the Wandering Mind I want sometimes naught but to weep As standing by the trestle deep I long to follow that railroad train to a realm of dream that’s free of pain. What an urge I have to stray somewhere on a train that’s bigger than a bear which climbs up toward old mountain peaks and watch the sea for days and weeks. A train to some vast tropic isle where swaying beauty makes me smile. But the trains of reality just skitter off and my city home where pollution does cough doesn’t let me see the pyramids or drink till dawn with memory’s kids, or ride off to the Orient to get away from this discontent. But today something inside me went through a shift and gave my spirits that needed lift, and I bid adieu to my dreams of escape while the train roared through like a ghostly shape. --- Woof, right? There are a lot of issues here that a revision would dramatically help. Kowit takes us through a few of them. “...naught but to weep” in line one is a mistake, indicating that the author is doing that thing of trying to sound poetic instead of being poetic. “trestle deep” ‘is likely a forced rhyme with “weep”. One note made by Kowit is that the forced rhyme at the beginning of the poem raises the question of whether it’s worth it to pursue a rhyme scheme in subsequent drafts. This decision needs to be made early on in the revision process as it will inform our edits. Kowit walks us through a re-write of the first sentence. I want sometimes naught but to weep As standing by the trestle deep I long to follow that railroad train to a realm of dream that’s free of pain. Let’s start by trying to avoid telling the reader what we feel (bummed out, as evidenced by “weep” in the first draft). Let’s also work on cutting out unrealistic detail (unlikely the guy is standing right next to the trestle) and the overly-poetic language. This is Kowit’s example: When the Amtrak hoots by in the morning I sometimes want to be on it, heading to Tucson, Austin, Oshkosh – anywhere but here in this awful life I’ve been leading… This is better. It’s got some realistic (and specific) detail that helps the reader connect with the poem. However there’s still some issues: “here in this awful life” is vague, and boring, and “I sometimes want to be on it” is a bit . Kowit makes another attempt: When I hear the amtrak hoot by at 6:34 in the morning I groan, still half asleep, and draw the sheet over my head, and dream of what life might be like in Tucson, Austin, Oshkosh – anywhere but here in this life with its bitter coffee, and dust streets and measly paychecks. Wherever that train is going I want to go too! Not bad, but Kowit states that it’s overly verbose. Let’s cut some stuff: When the Amtrak hoots by at 6:34 I groan, half-asleep, drawing the sheet over my head in this city of dusty streets and lousy payhecks and wish I was anywhere else – Tucson, Austin, Oshkosh. Wherever that Amtrak is going I want to be on it! Better, but we’ve repeated Amtrak and half-asleep could be implied from the time of day. When the 6:34 hoots by I groan, drawing the sheet over my head, and I wish I was elsewhere – Tuscon, Austin, Oshkosh. Wherever that Amtrak is going I want to go too! As you can see, there’s a lot of effort that goes into a re-write. Kowit uses two more attempts of introducing details, forming the direction of the poem, before landing on: When the 6:34 hoots up its head of steam in the morning, screaming over the trestles… panting like somebody’s lover, I roll over groaning, pull the sheet over my head and wish I were snuggled inside her – Carson City, Austin, Oshkosh… To hell with my coffee at 7, the bloodthirsty morning Gazette, the godawful 8 am traffic. I want to head for the Desert, whitewater country, Tuscon, Oshkosh – Wherever that Amtrak is going I want to be on her! At this point, the poet has a much better sense of the poem’s voice, it’s organization, it’s imagery, and can now move on to other parts of the poem. Remember that was just the first sentence! If we look back at the very first draft, it’s really easy for us to see how ham-fisted that attempt was, with forced rhyme and cheesy “poetic” language. Even though our re-writes are still in infancy, hopefully you can tell that what Kowit has down in that last attempt is the beginning of a real poem, with complexity and passion that was sorely lacking from the first draft. Rewriting isn’t necessarily just messing around with a word or two but rather redrafting the poem from scratch, “finding the poem that was buried under that first ineffectual version.” There is no one way to write a poem- maybe you want to take out the colloquialisms from our train poem and introduce more “lofty” language, or maybe you like the direction it’s going. No two re-writes are going to be the same. -------- Exercises for Week 5 Exercise: A Guided Rewriting Exercise Follow these instructions: 1. Select a poem that you have written recently. Read your poem over to yourself as objectively as possible. 2. Underline one passage, or word, or phrase that seems particularly good to you. 3. Circle a line, phrase, or section that seems unsuccessful. Awkward phrasing, dull words, no voice- whatever the reason, just recognizing that it needs work is enough to get you started. 4. Try to find other passages that might need some work. Once you begin to get critical, it will be easier to find weak spots. Circle them also. Sometimes poets find that the real poem starts and stops within the larger body of the first draft. Hack what you have to pieces if you need to! --- For those of you playing at home: let’s try to have this exercise done by Monday, May 7th. Thanks for participating!
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# ¿ Apr 30, 2018 00:36 |
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Just a note on last week’s exercises, don’t feel obligated to post your answers to the first section. Just a revision attempt it fine. I’ll be critiquing lofi’s work and posting two of my own revisions sometime this week.
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# ¿ Apr 30, 2018 00:38 |
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lofi posted:
I think this one suffers from being over dramatic, which makes it a bit dull to read. There’s a few lines in there that don’t execute well. I think the central concept is really what’s holding this back. I feel like it’d be more suited to a short story or prose than poetry.
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# ¿ May 3, 2018 17:15 |
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ok, so I lied- I tried to revise some of my older poems but once they were blown up I had a helluva time putting it back together. I might (if I get up the ambition) go line by line revising one, including my thoughts as I go through. Depends on how many “working lunches” I have to suffer through this week, as that’s normally when I write. In the meantime, here is this week’s post and it’s a fun one!
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# ¿ May 7, 2018 04:44 |
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Section 3: Music and Metaphor Chapter 6: After-glow: The Interior Music The goal of this chapter is to focus less on the construction of the poem from memory but rather on how the words of a poem come together to form music. A great poem is one that uses the musicality inherent in language as the building blocks for the content. One of the main musical devices in English poetry is internal rhyme. We can see from this poem of poet Raymond Carver’s that the prose-like quality and internal rhyme really elevate the poem. After-Glow The dusk of evening comes on. Earlier a little rain had fallen. You open a drawer and find inside the man’s photograph, knowing he has only two years to live. He doesn’t know this, of course, that’s why he can mug for the camera. How could he know what’s taking root in his head at that moment? If one looks to the right through boughs and tree trunks, there can be seen crimson patches of the after-glow. No shadows, no half-shadows. It is still and damp… The man goes on mugging. I put the picture back in its place along with the others and give my attention instead to the after-glow along the far ridge, light golden on the roses in the garden. Then, I can’t help myself, I glance once more at the picture. The wink, the broad smile, the jaunty slant of the cigarette. -Raymond Carver Assonance Assonance is the use of identical vowel sounds close together to form a partial rhyme. In Carver’s poem we read in line one “dusk, of evening comes”- “dusk”, “of”, and “comes” all use the uh vowel sound. Likewise in line two “fallen” and “drawer” have the same awe sound, repeated later in the poem as well. There are several vowel sounds (the long i in find, the long o throughout in open, photograph, etc.) that are found which anchor words together and give the poem a lilt. Repetition All the long o sounds in the poem help strengthen what Kowit states is the central word, “know”. The word appears three times in the poem, not including two additional uses of the homonym “no”. The technical name of the repetition of words or phrases in a poem is repetend. Alliteration This should be very familiar with English speakers. Alliteration is the repetition of the initial consonant sound in words or syllables. We see this several times in the example, such as “the man goes on mugging”. Loosely considered, alliteration can be any repetition of the consonant sounds in a word or phrase, such as “slant of the cigarette”. Rich Consonance In the example poem, the word “root” in line six and the word “right” in line seven form what is called “rich” or “full” consonance. This device is where the words begin and end with the same consonant sounds but have a different internal vowel sound. Other rich consonant rhymes with “root” could be rat, rate, wrote, rout- remember here it’s not the letters that matter but the sounds. Partial Consonance Partial consonance is the effect where two words share the same end consonant sound, like “fallen” and “open”, with the -en being shared. “Up” and “Step”, “swoon” and “bone”, these pairs are also examples. Kowit writes that “if you are inclined to think that such repetitions of vowel and consonant sounds are inevitable, given that there are a limited number of sounds in the English language, you are quite right”. The difference between regular writing and poetry, however, is that the poet seeks these devices out and puts them to conscious use for a musical effect. Anaphora This device is the use of a repeated word or phrase in several successive lines. We have seen this with our list poems in earlier exercises, and also below in an excerpt from one of Walt Whitman’s famous poems, “Song of Myself”: Where the humming-bird shimmers, where the neck of the long-lived swan is curving and winding, Where the laughing-gull scoots by the shore, where she laughs her near-human laugh, Where bee-hives range on a gray bench in the garden half hid by the high weeds, Where band-neck’d partridges roost in a ring on the ground with their heads out, Where burial coaches enter the arch’d gates of a cemetery, Where winter wolves bark amid wastes of snow and icicled trees, Where the yellow-crown’d heron comes to the edge of the marsh at night and feeds upon small crabs, Where the splash of swimmers and divers cools the warm noon, Where the katy-did works her chromatic reed on the walnut-tree over the well, Beginning each of these lines with the word “where” imparts a drive to the poem, conveying a great energy. As readers, it feels to us that something is building up. In addition, there are examples of our previously discussed devices throughout that excerpt. If you read it aloud you can start to pick out repeated sounds. Diction and Sentence Grace Kowit writes that “in English there are harsh sounds and softer ones, phrases that seem quick and energetic and others that are slow, deliberate, meditative, or mournful”. The idea is that every phrase will have its own particular pace and tone depending on how the words come together. This is a very meta idea- that the very nature of your phrases and how they come together in their unique musicality can add or detract from the message of your poem. Kowit gives us a few lines of Carver’s poem reimagined as something worse and far more clunky: As the somberness of evening takes place and after it had been raining for a while but now the rain had stopped, you open up a drawer in which, behold, you find the photograph there of a man and that man you know has, alas, got only two more years in which to live Woof! All the grace that littered throughout Carver’s poem is thrown out the window and we’re left with this trash. Serious poets are concerned not only with the message of their poem but really with each and every syllable that is set to paper. During revision this will come up a lot, as you struggle for that perfect phrase to match what your heart desires for your poem. Exercises for Week 6 Exercise 1: Recognizing alliteration and internal rhyme Go through the Whitman passage and identify some of the devices we’ve talked about this chapter. Do the same on other example poems. Exercise 2: An Exercise in describing scenes and brief encounters Walt Whitman habitually kept a notebook where he jotted down much of his life experiences that led to the creation of his poems. Keep a notebook this week and write down brief descriptions of anything that catches your eye, whether it is animals, birds, events, people, etc. - try to keep each to no more than two or three lines. Make your descriptions as rich and evocative as possible, choosing your language carefully and avoiding some of the pitfalls we’ve talked about in the past. Do not be overly flowery, avoid adjectivitis, don’t be too vague. Make your descriptions as concrete as possible using sensory detail. Don’t be too judgmental in your choices of subject- anything will do. Use some of the devices mentioned above, but don’t be too generous with their use, as with anything else that’s considered “poetic” too much of a good thing can quickly bog down a poem. Exercise 3: An Anaphoric List Poem Another list poem! Use your descriptions from exercise 2 to create an anaphoric list, similar to Whitman’s example. If all your descriptions are from the same area, starting with “where” might be appropriate- it also might not be. You can start with anything, from “how seldom I see” or “I see the...”, etc. Once you’ve put your descriptions into the poem, do whatever re-writing is necessary to make it cohere both logically (don’t combine insects and cars, for example, unless you’ve got a good internal theme with which to do so) and musically. Again, avoid overuse and instead use controlled, careful execution of these devices lest you weigh your poem down. —- [b]For those of you playing from home: let’s get these done by Monday, May 14th.
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# ¿ May 7, 2018 04:46 |
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# ¿ Apr 23, 2024 19:38 |
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OK, here’s an effort post! The caveat is that I am a terrible poet. I write what I think is good, but all I have to go on is the advice of internet strangers, so don’t pull any punches and take all my analysis with a grain of salt. My poem that I posted into the poetry thread: We Perform for the Gods My glass bell chimes in time with the dancers - flowing scarlet, blue, and black - to better please our audience of human beings and gods. The rites have carried down in proper oral tradition tattooed in grandmotherly whispers on our young ear drums. Our arms are bent in divine angles, ratios set by wizened men whose milky eyes can track the whorl of the heavens. We perform for the gods. We perform for the gods, but enjoy the applause from the imperfect hands of our fellow mortals. On a first read, I can already tell there are lines I like and lines I don’t. Line one I think is very musical, including examples of rhyme (chime, time) and assonance (glass, dancers). The next line is much weaker- evocative, perhaps, with the flowing colors but it lacks punch. All tell, no show. Let’s come back to it. More assonance here (please, audience) that I like, so I’m keeping it. I wrote out human beings as opposed to humans, or mortals, as I wanted it to feel more concrete when compared to the idea of gods. “The rites have carried down” is a bit lackluster, but I think the next three lines are the strongest part of the poem. We can probably fix that first bit. Personally I’m fond of the next sentence. I’m not sure if divine is strong enough a descriptor, but I think the specific details of old men tracking the stars is very vivid. I like the repetition of “we… Gods”, and particularly enjoy the partial consonance of “gods/applause”. “Imperfect hands” is okay but “fellow mortals” is a poor way to end the poem. So big themes- religion, obviously, and tradition, maybe a little mystery- we can work that in to the first bit a little more. Can I get more specific about the dancers themselves? Do we need to elaborate on the bell itself? I the the “glass” modifier and the musicality of the first line stands as enough, but the dancers could be fleshed out a bit: “...dancers, their hand-stitched gowns of scarlet, blue and black flowing like the tides, under Andromeda’s chains.” Ok, in my head I’m picturing a nighttime scene, with dancers on a beach, moving in time with bell chimes and lapping waves. But did I capture that? Partially, maybe. “Andromedra’s chains” is just a constellation reference, trying to connect to the heavens line farther down, but maybe it’s a bit overwrought. “...in time as the dancers, dressed in hand-stitched scarlet, blue and black, flow like the tides around our moonlit altar.” I like it! A little bit of mystery, plus a connection to the later parts of the poem. The next part is the couplet “The rites… tradition”. Firstly, this is a chance to expand on the magnitude of this passage of knowledge. We can suggest that this has been happening for a long time. “The ancestral secret has carried down…” “The ancestral secrets trickle down…” “Ancestral ciphers are offered down…” I like it! We’ll have to see how it fits in the whole of the poem. One thing that bugs me is the word “proper”- it feels clunky and really what’s an “improper” oral tradition? I’ll give you part the stream-of-consciousness I used to land on a better word. (There were a lot more that were garbage which were thrown out) Heady forceful Vibrant Vivid I like vibrant. So what’s the whole sentence look like now? Ancestral ciphers are offered down in vibrant oral tradition tattooed in grandmotherly whispers on our young eardrums. Sounds pretty good! I worry I’m straying into being too poetic or overwrought, but based on feedback I can always revert it. As I focus on the next section, I realize that I want to focus more on the mathematical piece, that these seers are calculating divinity. “Our arms bend in a calculated knot, angles set by wizened men whose milky eyes Can track the whorl of Heaven.” Things I like: changing heavens to Heaven, suggesting more power in the seers’ eyes. Things I don’t: “calculated knots” is super clunky. “Our arms bend in a measured grace to match the frame of stars, angles set by wizened men whose milky eyes can track the whorl of Heaven.” I like it! Onward to the poem’s close. “Fellow mortals” is just boring to me for some reason. My immediate strategy is to cut stuff to simplify: “...but enjoy applause from imperfect hands and praise from human tongues.” I think it sounds okay? At this point I’m pretty desperate for some constructive criticisms. Here’s our “fixed” version: We Perform for the Gods My glass bell chimes in time as the dancers, dressed in hand-stitched scarlet, blue and black, flow like the tide around our moonlit altar to better please our audience of human beings and gods. Ancestral ciphers are offered down in vibrant oral tradition tattooed in grandmotherly whispers on our young eardrums. Our arms bend in a measured grace to match the frame of stars, angles set by wizened men whose milky eyes can track the whorl of Heaven. We perform for the gods. We perform for the gods, but enjoy applause from imperfect hands and praise from human tongues. So what do you all think? Where can it be improved? Where is the language too flat or too flowery?
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# ¿ May 8, 2018 16:14 |