tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52147157586265915182024-03-13T08:58:23.617-05:00Poet to PoetAn ongoing discussion about writing and reading poemsRBalcarcelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08135527430306245795noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5214715758626591518.post-66439537015167123882015-12-03T21:50:00.000-06:002015-12-03T21:50:00.513-06:00Adding Swerves to Your Poems<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />RBalcarcelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08135527430306245795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5214715758626591518.post-54855902479450858342015-11-15T23:38:00.001-06:002015-11-15T23:38:49.168-06:00Making Your Poem an Experience for the Reader<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/l5vPBACMzn4" width="459"></iframe>RBalcarcelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08135527430306245795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5214715758626591518.post-70266998393568415852013-05-20T12:12:00.000-05:002013-05-20T12:22:39.511-05:00Is a workshop for you?<br />
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<b>Let me introduce Ann Howells</b>, my dear poet friend whose depth of experience makes this post a valuable one!</div>
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<b>Bio:</b> Ann Howells’s poetry
recently appeared in <i>Borderlands</i>, <i>Calyx, Crannog </i>(Ire),
<i>Free State Review</i>, <i>RiverSedge, </i>and<i> Third Wednesday</i>
among others. She serves on the board of Dallas Poets Community, a
501-c-3 non-profit, and has edited its journal, <i>Illya’s Honey,
</i>since 1999. Her chapbook, <i>Black Crow in Flight</i>, was
published by Main Street Rag Publishing (2007). Another chapbook, <i>the
Rosebud Diaries</i>, was published in limited edition by Willet Press
(2012). She won first in <i>The Legendary</i>’s Bukowski contest in
2011, was a finalist in both NavWorks and Southern Hum contests in
2008, won first in the Southwest Writer’s Club poetry contest in
2006, and was named a “distinguished poet of Dallas” by the
Dallas Public Library in 2001. Her work was read on NPR, and she was
interviewed on local television in Annapolis, MD. She has been
nominated twice for both the Pushcart and Best of the Net.
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Picture the writer, an emaciated poet,
bent over his desk, working late into the night by the light of a
candle stub. He is wrapped in a blanket, but still shivers in his
drafty garret room. Granted, our circumstances are likely not so
dire, but <b>writing is a solitary pursuit.</b> Other than readings,
lectures, and the occasional poetry festival, how can the writer make
contacts with and benefit from other writers? <b>Enter, the workshop.</b></div>
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I am, perhaps, a bit biased, as <b>I have
workshopped for over twenty years.</b> During that time I have stayed
consistently with Dallas Poets Community, but at various times, I
have also belonged to two other groups. Each had its advantages and
disadvantages. Not every workshop will be a good fit for a particular
writer. It is a good idea, when considering a workshop, to <b>visit once
or twice</b> (with or without bringing a poem) and take part in
discussion. A poet who writes only sonnets might feel uncomfortable
in a group where everyone else is writing in free verse; on the other
hand, all participants might benefit from the mix. The sonnet writer
might find a different type of critique helpful and be able, in
return, to teach other participants something about writing in form.
Also, if other participants are a bit more accomplished, you may
learn from them. If they are less accomplished, you have an
opportunity to teach and to view your poems as a reader might. If
members are genuinely interested in poetry, offer constructive
criticism and avoid ego, the group will work.</div>
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<b>Finding a workshop</b> takes a bit of
research. You might ask at your local recreation center or public
library where poetry workshops often meet. Check bulletin boards. Ask
other poets for recommendations. Find a group on-line; there are
many. Some have flourished for years. If all else fails, find several
like-minded individuals and <b>start your own group.</b> I have heard tales
of workshops in which name-dropping and self-aggrandizement seemed
the norm and critique was often hurtful. I have never encountered
such a group (and suspect they are urban myths). Another complaint
about workshops is that, eventually, everyone’s poems begin to
sound the same. I suppose that could possibly happen, but I find it
hard to imagine a writer so willing to give up his own voice.</div>
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Some workshops<b> charge a fee</b> per
meeting, some require you to <b>send your work</b> to other members up to
several weeks ahead of the workshop. Some groups exist mainly to
approve each other’s work and give little critique beyond spelling
and grammar. Some have been meeting together for years and will be
difficult for a new member to enter.
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Let me tell you about my workshop
group, <b><a href="http://dallaspoetscom.org/index.html" target="_blank">Dallas Poets Community.</a></b> Our group currently has eight to
twelve attendees at each workshop, a good number for a two hour
workshop. We have a good mix of sexes, ages (we’ve had as young as
16 up to mid-80s) religious preferences, and ethnicities. A wide
variety of occupations are represented. Anyone seriously interested
in writing good poetry is welcome. Our meetings are open. Those of us
who have been with the group a while can generally recognize a poem
by another member of the group by the individual voice (which we
consider proof that workshopping has not made our writing generic).</div>
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We begin critique by <b>having a member do
a cold reading of another poet’s work.</b> This allows the poet to
really listen to what he has written. It allows him to catch sound
patterns and places where his writing does not flow. <b>Then, the poet
rereads his work aloud.</b> After that, he remains quiet as the group
discusses the poem, trying to answer four questions:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
What is happening in the poem?<br />
What is working in the poem?<br />
What is not working in the poem?<br />
Where might the poem be elaborated or
expanded?
</blockquote>
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We make it a point to <b>critique the
technique used and never the philosophy</b> behind a particular poem, and
we encourage everyone to voice their thoughts, even dissenting
opinions. We also offer suggestions for <b>places where the poem might
be submitted</b>, and let the poet know of any other <b>poems on a similar
topic or in a similar style that he might want to read.</b> At the end of
this discussion, the poet may ask any questions he has about the poem
that were not answered or request further clarification about points
made.</div>
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We <b>bring enough copies</b> of our poem for
each person to have one on which is can write comments and either
keep or return to the poet. <b>A good workshop will allow you to see
your work as an editor might see it, encourage thoughtful revision
and allow you to develop your own voice. </b>The Dallas Poets Community
workshop has been meeting twice monthly for twenty-three years. We
have included high school students, college students, retirees, MFAs,
PhDs, and even the occasional songwriter. Some have stayed, some have
moved away, some have left and returned, and some gone on to other
pursuits. I credit the turnover with keeping the group from becoming
stale and predictable. That said, currently five of our members have
books published by national presses; one has two. Most of the group
has work in a variety of small press and university journals.</div>
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If you are new to workshopping, keep in
mind that <b>your work will be criticized. </b>If you believe revisions
alter the original thought and make it inauthentic, workshops are not
for you. If you feel compelled to defend every word you’ve written,
workshops are not for you. If you keep an open mind and consider
changes other suggest, you might benefit from workshopping, but
remember, it is your poem and recommendations put forth can be
rejected as well as accepted.
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<b>Use what you like, ignore the rest.
</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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TIP!</div>
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Find Dallas Poetry Community on Facebook or their website:</div>
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<a href="http://dallaspoetscom.org/index.html">http://dallaspoetscom.org/index.html</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/DallasPoetsCommunity">https://www.facebook.com/DallasPoetsCommunity</a></div>
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RBalcarcelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08135527430306245795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5214715758626591518.post-91322488896011973602013-04-12T19:03:00.001-05:002013-04-12T19:24:20.375-05:00The Out Loud: Giving a Great Poetry Reading <br />
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Hi, folks! Let me introduce Michelle Hartman, a guest writer for PoettoPoet. An experienced reader and a frequent attendee to poetry events, Michelle is the perfect person to give us <b>advice on performing our poetry</b>. Enjoy her article, then check out her book!</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Mob7zei1x4/UWiGhHFEBoI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dPkE4NCQFk0/s1600/michelle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Mob7zei1x4/UWiGhHFEBoI/AAAAAAAAAHg/dPkE4NCQFk0/s200/michelle.jpg" title="Michelle Hartman, poet" width="173" /></a>A little about Michelle: A Pushcart nominee, <span style="color: #366388;"><span style="color: #00000a;">Michelle Hartman</span></span>'s<span style="color: black;"> work can be
found in </span><span style="color: black;"><i>Crannog</i></span><span style="color: black;">,
</span><span style="color: black;"><i>Poetry Quarterly</i></span><span style="color: black;">,
</span><span style="color: black;"><i>The Pedestal Magazine</i></span><span style="color: black;">,
</span><span style="color: black;"><i>Raleigh Review</i></span><span style="color: black;">,
</span><span style="color: black;"><i>San Pedro River Review, Pacific
Review, Concho River Review, RiverSedge, Illya’s Honey, </i></span><span style="color: black;">among
others, and numerous anthologies. She is also editor of the award-winning journal, <i>Red River
Review</i>, </span><span style="color: blue;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a href="http://www.redriverreview.com/">www.redriverreview.com</a></u></span></span><span style="color: black;">,
as well as a past president of The Dallas Poets Community. </span><span style="color: black;">Her
first book, </span><span style="color: black;"><i>Disenchanted and
Disgruntled</i></span><span style="color: black;">, from Lamar University
Press is available on Amazon here: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Disenchanted-Disgruntled-Michelle-Hartman/dp/0985255250/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1365811289&sr=1-1&keywords=Michelle+Hartman" target="_blank">Michelle's book of poems.</a></span></div>
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<h3>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>Giving a Great Poetry Reading</b></span></h3>
<h3>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;">If
you are like most people the last time you read anything out loud it
was a Dick and Jane book. You were six and the other kids might have
made fun of you. And now you’ve been invited to read your work in
public. It’s Mrs. Edleman’s class all over again. But it does
not have to be. There are </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">simple tips and tricks</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;"> to help you learn to
read like Billy Collins.</span></span></h3>
<h3>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">If
you are phobically shy or prone to panic attacks you might want to
speak with your doctor first. But for the rest of us who were simply
never trained to read in public, the following can get you ready to
give a Frank Sinatra performance.</span></span></h3>
<h3>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></h3>
<h3>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">My
first and best advice is, go to a</span> poetry workshop.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> I belong to a free read-and-critique group called the Dallas Poets Community, with two
workshops a month. </span>You read your poem and then someone else reads it
after so that you can hear it in another voice. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">This gives you the
experience of reading in a small friendly group before launching out
into the world.</span></span></h3>
<h3>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></h3>
<h3>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Once a month, the DPC
holds an Open Mic, inviting a professional to open, and then anyone
who signs up reads later. This gives a poet a chance to </span>see a pro and
ask questions<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">. Check us out in the Dallas area: <a href="http://www.dallaspoetscom.org/" target="_blank">http://www.dallaspoetscom.org</a></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> But wherever you are, a workshop group can help.</span> Or use your family
as an audience,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span>but practice, practice, practice.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> That way you are
comfortable with the poem, itself.</span></span></span></span></h3>
<h3>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;">Second,
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">go to some readings and pay close attention</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;"> to the way the poet
reads. What do you like or dislike about the way the poet presents
his or her work aloud? Maybe you like certain forms of delivery, but
be sure it suits your work. Not all poems can be read the same way.
Practicing </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">articulation</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;"> is even more important than slow speed. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Avoid
monotone delivery and sing-song delivery.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;"> You can record yourself on
software like GarageBand and analyze your style. We are our own
harshest critic. When you are comfortable with your work then you are
doing your best.</span></span></h3>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">
</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Do
have your poems ready</b> - it is not fun to watch a poet flip through a
book and mumble to himself. <b>Breeeeeeeeeethe... and pause before you
start.</b> Take it </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><b>s
l o w l y,</b></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-weight: normal;">
but make it short! If you feel you're rushing we won't hear you.
Start with one poem and work up to a full routine.</span></span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">
</span></span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Don't
try! <b>Simply hear yourself speak</b> - if you're listening to thoughts
about what you just said or are about to say then you're not <b>'PEARL'</b>:
Presently Engaged And Really Listening'. <b>Don't over explain</b> – trust
the reader and the listener. A short lead in such as 'My girlfriend
once said -------- to me' then go into the poem. Or 'My
ex-girlfriend used to do this' and go into the poem - just something
to <b>tease their expectations and FRAME the poem in their minds.</b> Poems
obviously should stand alone, in live performance the audience doesn't have unlimited time to check references, re-read
lines, explore possibilities. It is a singular experience, so a
little help is good.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Don't try anything too theatrical</b>, but equally, allow yourself to <b>feel the words and subject matter.</b> There's nothing worse than watching a performer who seems indifferent to their own work - it makes the audience indifferent too. <b>Match your material to your audience.</b> Nothing will ever scare you as badly as showing up with a pile of erotic poems and learning most of your audience are evangelicals. Make sure you <b>have sufficient material</b> both in quality and quantity. <b>Maintain eye contact </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">with the audience whenever possible. If your eyes are looking down it is more difficult to build a relationship.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>At
the end of a poem, don't rush into the next one.</b> A short pause will
help the audience absorb the poem you've just read and prepare for
the next one. I've seen many poets finish one poem, immediately say
"and," then launch into the next piece, as if they were
lumping the whole reading into a continuous poem. One thing I do is
<b>memorize the last lines of the poems</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">. Then, when I am finishing a
poem, I lower the paper even further and finish looking completely at
the audience. This also gives them a cue that the poem is over,
although it's pretty obvious when mine are done.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">If
your poems are on sheets of paper, <b>make sure they're on a clipboard</b>
or something solid so the pages don't shake as you read--this can be
both visually and aurally distracting. <b>Avoid long, dangly earrings
and bunches of bracelets </b>(especially if you talk with your hands). I
have actually seen poets who were drowned out by the sound of
jangling jewelry. Also <b>avoid wearing wild patterns</b>; your clothes
should not be putting on their own show. A corollary of this is
<b>comfortable clothes and hairdo</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> so that you are not constantly
fidgeting and adjusting. Deep poetry is not conducive to wardrobe
malfunctions.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Finally,
if you can project to the audience and the venue accommodates it (and
your nerves permit it), <b>don't stand behind the podium,</b> unless your
poetry needs the distancing it will provide. I believe that it's
easier to connect with members of the audience if you stand directly
before them. This requires more practice, more control of body
language, and a bit more courage. But you will get there. Remember,
we all started out exactly where you are, and I do not know a single
poet who was harmed at a poetry reading.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
<br />RBalcarcelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08135527430306245795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5214715758626591518.post-15753771488261317332012-09-30T20:29:00.000-05:002013-02-11T11:56:30.206-06:00"Is my poem good?"In workshops and classrooms, at conferences and the coffeehouse, writers ask me, "Is my poem good?"<br />
<br />
Hate to say it, but <b>the reader</b> is the only one who can answer you, and each one is different. Even as a reader, I might say, "This poem stirs my heart, tickles my brain, makes me laugh, punches me in the gut." But does that make it good? Possibly.<br />
<br />
"But good <i>enough</i>?" the poet presses me. Relax for a minute. Throw your beret on the coffee table. Let's talk. What most of us want to know is:<br />
<ul>
<li>Does my work inspire someone besides me? </li>
<li>Do I have talent?</li>
<li>Is my work publishable?</li>
<li>Will a press ever publish my book?</li>
<li>Can I get accepted into an MFA program with these poems?</li>
</ul>
Again, tough to answer. One way to find out is to submit your work and see what happens. Apply to the program and see what happens. Put together a collection and submit to small presses and contests. Your work will either float, so to speak, or it won't. Even if it doesn't, your poems might be good. Rejected, but good.<br />
<br />
So I can't tell you if your poem is good. BUT, I can offer you a <b>Poem Score Card</b>. This is a self-appraisal, which means that you can lie to yourself, but be honest. See how your poem scores.<br />
<ul>
<li><b>Images (0-5 points)</b><br />A perfect five looks like this: The poem includes concrete words that refer to objects, phrases that engage the reader's senses, figures of speech, active verbs, and specific nouns.</li>
<li><b>Voice (0-5 points)</b><br />A perfect five looks like this: The poem uses unusual word combinations, fresh turns of phrase, flavorful wording; it posits a specific world view, conveys a personality, and creates a character that the reader wants to hear from.</li>
<li><b>Sound (0-5)</b><br />A perfect five looks like this: The poem repeats consonants, repeats vowels, varies short and long phrases musically, avoids clumsy rhymes, pulses with an underlying beat or beat pattern, uses harsh letters (such as T and K) to convey harshness, uses soft letters (such as S and M) to convey softness, uses repetition of words or phrases.</li>
<li><b>Form (0-5)</b><br />A perfect five looks like this: The poem's lines break at interesting places. The white space is used deliberately. Stanzas cohere or follow a plan, and their lengths harmonize. Line lengths follow a pattern or vary intentionally.</li>
<li><b>Substance (0-5)</b><br />A perfect five looks like this: The poem offers a new insight, shares a unique perspective, explores a human truth in a fresh way, teaches about a little-known part of the world or human activity, or conveys a hard-earned lesson. </li>
</ul>
Still want to know if your poem is good? See if you can take <b>The Poem Vow</b>.<br />
<br />
Repeat after me:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I,
(your name), do solemnly affirm that I have used my imagination, my
wisdom, my ingenuity, and my best writing skills to make this poem bloom
fully. I further affirm that I have considered every line, every word,
every figure of speech, and that I have given it everything it needs to
go out into the world. I now release it to live the best life it can.</blockquote>
If
you can take the Poem Vow, then don't pull out your hair trying to
decide if the poem is good. Work hard on it, then send it out. Wave your
handkerchief to it at the Post Office, if you must, but set it free.RBalcarcelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08135527430306245795noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5214715758626591518.post-16298296142957010122011-05-17T14:09:00.004-05:002011-05-17T15:18:47.622-05:00Adding Escalators to Your Poems<div style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jPVWT5TVYuk/TdJvNnXREiI/AAAAAAAAADY/Vr-ubOEGeFM/s1600/Escalator+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jPVWT5TVYuk/TdJvNnXREiI/AAAAAAAAADY/Vr-ubOEGeFM/s200/Escalator+photo.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">I've been reading Elizabeth Bishop, and I see that this woman likes her escalators. The poems contain a moment when <b>the ostensible subject is revealed to be just the starting point, and the poem delves deeper or lifts higher. </b> It's a moment when the reader feels momentum under her feet, carrying her forward. Escalator moment!</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Here's an example from Bishop's "In the Waiting Room." It begins:</span></div><blockquote><blockquote><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">In Worcester, Massachusetts,</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">I went with Aunt Consuelo</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">to keep her dentist's appointment</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">and sat and waited for her</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">in the dentist's waiting room.</span></div></blockquote></blockquote>As she waits, she reads a <i>National Geographic</i>. She is amazed at the images of volcanoes, native peoples, and European anthropologists. It dislocates her. She goes on <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">(bold font mine),</span></span><br />
<blockquote><blockquote><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">And then I looked at the cover:</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">the yellow margins, the date.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">Suddenly, from inside,</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">came an oh! of pain</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">--Aunt Consuelo's voice--</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">not very loud or long.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">I wasn't at all surprised;</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">even then I knew she was </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">a foolish, timid woman.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">I might have been embarrassed,</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">but wasn't. <b>What took me</b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>completely by surprise</b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>was that it was me:</b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>my voice, in my mouth.</b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Without thinking at all</b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I was my foolish aunt,</b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I--we--were falling, falling,</b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">our eyes glued to the cover</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">of the National Geographic,</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">February, 1918. . . .</span></div></blockquote></blockquote><div style="font-family: inherit;">The poem continues, but right there, the poem pulls the reader to a new level. To me, it's a deeper level. We've taken a quick escalator down into the collective unconscious, ridden toward the foundations of human nature. Read the rest of the poem at: <a href="http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15211">poets.org</a><br />
<br />
Escalator moments take us up as well. It's common for that up-escalator to appear in the final lines, as here, in Kim Addonizio's "Mermaid Song." (bold font mine)</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><style type="text/css">
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</style> </div><blockquote><blockquote><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mermaid Song<br />
by Kim Addonizio</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>for Aya at fifteen</i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">Damp-haired from the bath, you drape yourself </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">upside down across the sofa, reading, </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">one hand idly sunk into a bowl</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">of crackers, goldfish with smiles stamped on. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">I think they are growing gills, swimming </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">up the sweet air to reach you. Small girl, </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">my slim miracle, they multiply.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the black hours when I lie sleepless, </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;">near drowning, dread-heavy, <b>your face </b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>is the bright lure I look for, love's hook </b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>piercing me, hauling me cleanly up.</b></span></div></blockquote></blockquote><div style="font-family: inherit;"></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: inherit;">We, too, are hauled up. Into hope, I think, and into appreciation of this young woman's potential -- maybe humankind's potential. The escalator is love, and we ride it to a new vantage point. The girl reading on the couch becomes something more than just a girl reading on a couch.<br />
<br />
I want escalators in my poems. Moments of new perspective on the starting topic. Moments of depth and height. But how can we do this without sounding fake or inflated? Here's what I'm going to try:</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><b>1) Keep the language concrete, even as the ideas soar.</b> Objects, like Addonizio's hook, resonate with meaning, whereas abstractions run the risk of sounding holier-than-thou or more-insightful-than-thou.<br />
<b>2) Don't set out with a predetermined idea; let the process surprise you.</b> Surrendering to the creative flow leads us to surprising places. Frost says, "No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader." Let the writing itself lead you.<br />
<b>3) Take imaginative leaps.</b> Addonizio leaps with <span style="font-size: small;">"I think they are growing gills, swimming </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">/ up the sweet air to reach you." This fantastical turn makes the escalator moment possible.</span><br />
<b>4) Shock yourself and the reader by writing the truth.</b> The truth of our lives is something we need courage to face and to speak. Once a poem is underway, ask, "What is the truth of this situation?" Boldly <i>go there. </i>Ralph Waldo Emerson says, "Insist on yourself; never imitate." Your reality and your individual understanding of this life should show in your work. Be real, even as you work with fictions.<br />
<br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">Enjoy those escalators!</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">Books of the poets I mention here: </div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=poetopoe-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=1880238918&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=poetopoe-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B004X8WDFK&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></div>RBalcarcelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08135527430306245795noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5214715758626591518.post-86062117841326952182011-04-26T00:20:00.004-05:002013-03-23T19:54:15.267-05:00Learning Sound Devices from Li-Young Lee<style type="text/css">
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Li-Young Lee -- a rock star in the poetry world. I'm a huge fan, so when I saw that Lee was reading in my state, I packed my suitcase and drove five hours. <br />
<div align="CENTER">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D-RqdUkDEPg/TbUI26gVwWI/AAAAAAAAADU/XvQ5Amx0KWU/s1600/LiYoungLeeandMe.jpg"><img align="BOTTOM" border="0" height="261" name="graphics1" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D-RqdUkDEPg/TbUI26gVwWI/AAAAAAAAADU/XvQ5Amx0KWU/s320/LiYoungLeeandMe.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
That evening, he read poems and mused about poetry. He read with a measured, deliberate tone. Then he talked, pausing a lot and thinking aloud. He said that we speak poems with the outgoing breath, which is the dying breath. Maybe he meant that we make art out of death. Or we make art out of life passing through us.<br />
<br />
Back in my room, I propped myself on the bed and reread his work. I noticed a deliberateness on the page. An intentionality that I'd hurried over. Now I slowed down and read the poems aloud. With his voice in my mind, I noticed an <b>attention to sound</b> that had escaped me before. I noted the shape of my mouth pronouncing each word. I listened to air leaving my body, sculpted by vocal chords, tongue, and teeth. <br />
<br />
Here's the first stanza of "Early in the Morning" from Lee's 1986 book, <i>Rose</i>. In just eight lines, I hear a lot going on. Vowels ooh and ahh. Consonants thump and click. Here's a look at the assonance alone:<br />
<br />
<b>Early in the Morning</b><br />
<b>by Li-Young Lee </b> <br />
While the l<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(213, 166, 189);">o</span>ng grain is s<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(213, 166, 189);">o</span>ftening<br />
in the w<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(213, 166, 189);">a</span>ter, gurgling<br />
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 229, 153);">o</span>ver a l<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 229, 153);">o</span>w st<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 229, 153);">o</span>ve flame, bef<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 229, 153);">o</span>re<br />
the salted Winter Vegetable is sliced<br />
f<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(162, 196, 201);">o</span>r breakfast, bef<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(162, 196, 201);">o</span>re the birds,<br />
my mother gl<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(180, 167, 214);">i</span>des an<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(180, 167, 214);"> i</span>vory comb<br />
through her hair, heavy<br />
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(182, 215, 168);">a</span>nd bl<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(182, 215, 168);">a</span>ck <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(182, 215, 168);">a</span>s c<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(182, 215, 168);">a</span>ll<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(249, 203, 156);">i</span>grapher's <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(249, 203, 156);">i</span>nk.<br />
<br />
And check out the consonance and alliteration:<br />
<br />
<b>Early in the Morning</b><br />
<b>by Li-Young Lee</b><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(234, 153, 153);"> </span><br />
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(234, 153, 153);">W</span>hi<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(180, 167, 214);">l</span>e the <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(180, 167, 214);">l</span>ong <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(182, 215, 168);">g</span>rai<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(162, 196, 201);">n</span> is softe<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(162, 196, 201);">n</span>ing<br />
in the <span style="color: black;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(234, 153, 153);">w</span></span>ater, <span style="color: black;"><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(182, 215, 168);">g</span></span>ur<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(182, 215, 168);">gl</span>ing<br />
o<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 229, 153);">v</span>er a <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(159, 197, 232);">l</span>ow sto<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 229, 153);">v</span>e f<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(159, 197, 232);">l</span>ame, before<br />
the <span style="background-color: #ea9999;">s</span>a<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(159, 197, 232);">l</span>te<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(213, 166, 189);">d</span> Winter Vegetable is <span style="background-color: #ea9999;">s</span><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(159, 197, 232);">l</span>ice<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(213, 166, 189);">d</span><br />
for<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(249, 203, 156);"> b</span>reakfast, <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(249, 203, 156);">b</span>efore the <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(249, 203, 156);">b</span>irds,<br />
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(162, 196, 201);">m</span>y <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(162, 196, 201);">m</span>other glides an ivory comb<br />
through <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(180, 167, 214);">h</span>er<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(180, 167, 214);"> h</span>air, <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(180, 167, 214);">h</span>eavy<br />
and bla<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(224, 102, 102);">ck</span> as <span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(224, 102, 102);">c</span>alligrapher's in<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(224, 102, 102);">k</span>.<br />
<br />
There's more. Did you see the <b>rhyme</b> in lines one and two? And the <b>repetition </b>of "before"?<br />
<br />
I notice, too, that these eight lines make one sentence. But Lee <b>withholds the main part of the sentence </b>until line six -- "my mother glides an ivory comb." That's a long way into the poem! How does he sustain momentum for five lines before finally coming to that main clause? With <b>rhythm,</b> he builds a ramp that launches line six. Let's ignore the line breaks and look at the phrase lengths:<br />
<div style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">
</div>
<blockquote>
While the long grain is softening in the water <b>(long)</b><br />
gurgling over a low stove flame <b>(short)</b><br />
before the salted Winter Vegetable is sliced for breakfast <b>(longer)</b><br />
before the birds <b>(shorter)</b><br />
my mother glides an ivory comb<b> (we've arrived!)</b></blockquote>
<div style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">The longer phrase pulls the energy farther out, then compresses back into the shorter phrase like a spring, ready to release the heart of the sentence, "my mother glides an ivory comb."</span></div>
<div style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">Another thing. By <b>breaking the lines in the middles of phrases</b>, Lee pushes us forward at the ends of lines one through four. We're in suspense, so we read on to find the phrase ending, then another phrase begins and we must read across the line break to find ITS ending. Momentum accomplished.</span></div>
<div style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">Last observation. I like the way Lee lets us rest for a moment on line three, the half-way point. </span><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">The <b>rest stop is "low stove flame."</b></span><span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);"> These single-syllable words make a platform on which we can land and from which we can leap into the next phrases. Take a look. Without that rest stop, we wouldn't make it all the way to the sixth line where the kernel of the sentence is waiting.</span></div>
<div style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);"><br />
</span></div>
<b>Early in the Morning</b><br />
<b>by Li-Young Lee</b><br />
<b><br />
</b> <br />
While the l<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">o</span>ng grain is s<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">o</span>ftening<br />
in the wa<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(213, 166, 189);"></span>ter, gurgling<br />
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 229, 153);"></span>over a low<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 229, 153);"></span> stov<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 229, 153);"></span>e flame, before<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 229, 153);"></span><br />
the salted Winter Vegetable is sliced<br />
for breakfast, bef<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">o</span>re the birds,<br />
<b>my mother gl<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);">i</span>des an<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(255, 255, 255);"> i</span>vory comb</b><br />
through her hair, heavy<br />
<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(182, 215, 168);"></span>and black as calligrapher's ink<span style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(249, 203, 156);"></span>.<br />
<br />
With that kernel, Lee has answered our curiosity. We no longer wonder where the sentence is headed. Having arrived, we're refueled enough to go on through lines seven and eight to the end of the sentence.<br />
<br />
So how can we make our next eight lines as amazing as Lee's? One way is to tickle our reader's ears with<b> 1) </b>vowels that echo through the line <b>2) </b>consonants that repeat themselves <b>3) </b>rhyme and repetition<b> 4) </b>line breaks in the middles of phrases <b>5)</b> creating momentum and rest stops.<br />
<br />
Li-Young Lee's work can teach us much more, but I've got to stop typing this and work on a poem! If you've discovered a favorite technique in a Lee poem, please share it.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
RBalcarcelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08135527430306245795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5214715758626591518.post-70100101017401401662011-04-21T00:56:00.001-05:002011-04-21T10:50:24.164-05:00Writing Prose Poems<style type="text/css">
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Welcome to my prose poem binge! In the last few weeks, I've written most of my poems in paragraphs rather than lines. I start a sentence and just keep on typing, ignoring phrase endings, commas, weighty words – all places where I usually press RETURN. The momentum carries forward like an ocean wave, not breaking until the shore of the final period. One reward: figuring out which topics lend themselves to prose poems and how to use this form effectively.<br />
<br />
Poems that tell a story lend themselves to prose poems. Makes sense, right? The difference between fiction and the prose poem, though, is <b>brevity and language play.</b> Instead of a full story, we usually get a single scene. Or just an action. Or one memory. Also, most sentences contain sensory details, figures of speech, creative turns of phrase, or sound devices. This is where the "poem" part of "prose poem" earns its name.<br />
<br />
Poems with a strong voice make good prose poems. If a character starts speaking and won't shut up, give her some free rein by letting the line run all the way to the margin and wrap around to the next line. <b>Create a persona.</b> Readers enjoy hearing a particular personality express itself -- as long as the language is tight, rings true, and captures interest.<b><br />
</b><br />
Casual poems benefit from the prose form. A lined poem seems to announce itself as a serious item, just by its form on the page. Meanwhile, the prose poem greets us with a familiar wave. It uses <b>humor, sentence fragments, and slang</b> with nonchalance. Since a short paragraph doesn't intimidate, you can write one of these in your flip flops. Just don't forget the basics of strong writing: active verbs, specific nouns, few adjectives, and fewer adverbs.<b> <br />
</b><br />
Sound-rich poems work well in prose. Try <b>repeating consonants in clusters</b> to create sonic interest. Do the same with vowels. Rhythm and momentum make the poem flow or jerk or tumble forward. <b>Direct that flow with punctuation.</b> Without the line and white space to control pacing, turn to the period, comma, semi-colon, colon, and dash to speed up and slow down. Try following a long sentence with a short one. Like this. Consider using <b>repetition.</b> Repeating a word or phrase creates a series of dots for the reader to connect, so it benefits structure as well as sound. A prose poem is <i>an especially good place to use rhyme</i> because no line endings will draw undue attention to it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The best way to learn how to write prose poems is to read some. I enjoy Mary Oliver<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=poetopoe-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=0156001209&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>'s.<b> </b>My own "Guatemala" is a favorite of my readers, which I'm reading below. Enjoy writing one of your own!<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/9bQEDQIWej4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
</div>RBalcarcelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08135527430306245795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5214715758626591518.post-29977503475297568362011-04-17T14:52:00.003-05:002011-04-17T15:09:30.280-05:00Rhyming WellThis is such a challenge that I often discourage first-timers from trying it. Sorry to start with a downer, but it's true.<br />
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After all, the case against using rhyme in contemporary literary poems is strong. I've read a good number of serious poems whose rhymes created accidental humor. Doh! I've also endured rhyme-machines, masquerading as poems, that wallop me at the end of every line. Duh-da-duh-da-duh-BAM. Duh-da-duh-da-duh-WHAM. In these poems, rhyme bullies every other element, pushing the content around and locking even figures of speech in the bathroom.<br />
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But Rhyme<b> can </b>use his power for good. A well-turned rhyme can take the reader's breath away. Plus, rhyme is fun to work with. And for spoken word and slam poetry, you gotta make this bully into a buddy. <br />
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<b>Step 1: Don't WHAM-BAM. Enjamb!</b><br />
Enjambment simply means <i>breaking your line in the middle of a phrase</i> rather than at the end. Shakespeare did it. You can too. Here's an example from Sonnet 130. It's a love poem that makes fun of love poems. Shakespeare's always goofing around! Here he talks about his beloved (italics mine):<br />
<blockquote><div style="font-family: inherit;">I have seen roses damask'd, red and<span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"> white,</span><br />
But no such roses see I in her cheeks; <br />
And in some perfumes is there <i>more <span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;">delight</span> </i>(not done yet!)<br />
<i>Than</i> in the breath that from my mistress reeks.</div></blockquote>Here's another example from hip-hop artist, Big Daddy Kane. This is his response to the fierce competition between rappers (italics mine):<br />
<blockquote>I relieve rappers, just like <span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;">Tylenol</span><br />
And they know it, so I don't see why <i>you </i><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8; color: black;"><i>all</i> </span>(not done yet!)<br />
<i>Try</i> to front, perpetraitin' a stunt<br />
When you know that I'll smoke you up . . .</blockquote><div style="font-family: inherit;">Notice how enjambment makes the reader wonder how the phrase will end. That makes the poem less predictable and more fun. Beginning poets tend to write toward that end rhyme, land on it hard, and stop. This is "end-stopping." Instead of all end-stopped lines, lend variety to your poems with enjambment. </div><br />
<b>Step 2: Use long words for end rhymes.</b><br />
A sophisticated rhymer goes beyond those one-syllable<i> </i>thud<i> </i>words. Instead of great--wait, try ingratiate, calibrate, celebrate. Happily, the Internet can help. Click on <a href="http://www.rhymezone.com/">http://www.rhymezone.com/</a> for an easy search of 1-, 2-, 3-, 4-, 5-, even 6- and 7- syllable words and phrases. When I typed in "great," they listed "circumnavigate" and the phrase "physiological state." They also provide a search for near rhymes, such as laughter--bachelor. Throw some longer words into the mix; you will sound <i>and be</i> more accomplished.<br />
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<b>Step 3: Mesmerize When You Internalize</b><br />
Poor rhyming words. :-( They get stuck out there at the end of the line every time! Bring them into the middle once in a while. Called, internal rhyme, this can give a free verse poem some juice. It gives rhyming poems texture as well. Here's a line from a poem I'm working on:<br />
<blockquote>"Mom and I surf an escalator wave to the <span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">store's</span> second<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;"> floor</span> where"</blockquote>It's not an exact rhyme, but it's in there. Store--floor. Here's another example from the Academy Award-winning "Lose Yourself" by Eminem:<br />
<blockquote>"All the pain <span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">inside amplified </span>by the fact<br />
That I can't get by with my 9 to 5"</blockquote>He puts the rhymed words back to back. Inside--amplified. And he's using our Step 2 technique by using a long word like "amplified." The point is that you can sprinkle rhymes in for flavor anywhere.<br />
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<b>Step 4: Don't Just Rhyme</b><br />
Using enjambment, longer words, and internal rhyme will go a long way towards making a strong poem. But don't let rhyming be the only trick your poem has up its sleeve. Give it figurative language, interesting word combinations, and a point. Give it concrete objects and people, sensory details, and voice. Rhyme can't do it alone.<br />
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If you have a favorite poem that uses rhyme well, I hope you'll share it in a Comment. Meanwhile, happy rhyming!<br />
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<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=poetopoe-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=0300024959&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>P.S. Thinking of checking out some Shakespeare? This is my favorite edition of the sonnets, loaded with scholarly discussion <i>and</i> dissent. Original spellings and fonts, with modern font on the facing page.RBalcarcelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08135527430306245795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5214715758626591518.post-85646651790287638542011-04-14T18:12:00.005-05:002011-04-14T22:18:33.389-05:00Revising Your Poem: Four Ladders to the Next LevelSo your poem is good. Clever ending, a few cool metaphors. Why isn't it getting accepted for publication? Or making your loved ones dab their eyes and beg for a copy?<br />
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Now that I've published over fifty poems in journals and magazines, I'm starting to figure out why certain poems find a home and others sit in my files. I'm also getting better at turning good poems into great ones. When I want to polish up a poem, I reach for these four tools:<br />
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<b>1) Voice: Inject the poem with voice, baby!</b><br />
We tend to start a poem using everyday language, then spruce it up with two or three figures of speech. I call this the polka dot approach. The poem is mostly plain with a few spots of color. For a next-level poem, you want total coverage. You want every word colorful. Find places that use language in ordinary ways, then freshen them up with unusual word combinations. Find places that sound -- let's just say it -- generic. Punch up the personality. Say it like only your imagination can. Would your poem's speaker call clouds gauze or is she more of a cotton ball person? Look at every blah phrase as a chance to rewrite and inject voice.<br />
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<b>2) Adjective jacking: Take 'em away!</b><br />
"A bored-looking woman." This is a phrase from a poem I'm working on this week. I know it's weak because it makes the reader do all the work of imagining what "bored" looks like. Instead of the adjective, "bored-looking," I need to use body language, action, or sensory detail. I could try,<br />
<ul><li>a slouching woman (body language)</li>
<li>a snoring woman (action)</li>
<li>the woman rested her chin on one hand and stared into space, seeming to focus on the place where the wall met the ceiling (visual sensory detail)</li>
</ul>Find the places in your poem where people or situations are described in one-word adjectives. Replace these words with crunchier stuff. Don't say she's obsessive. Tell us she color-codes her To Do lists.<br />
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<b>3) Gift for the Selfish Reader</b><br />
News flash! Readers care nothing about your experiences unless those experiences enlighten their own. Your traumas, your joys, the loved one you lost, the new baby -- none of these are powerful enough <i>on their own </i>to make a great poem. Maybe a good poem, but not a next-level-er. What you need is a gift for the selfish reader. Something for her to take away. Great literature offers insights into life. Next-level poems make readers feel that, having read your poem, they must look at life in a new way. Examine your poem for the take-away. You can think of this as your poem's mission statement. You might not write it into the poem directly, but make all the elements of the poem serve this mission. Decide what you want your poem to convey. Remember that readers don't want to learn about the poet; they want to learn about themselves.<br />
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<b>4) The Knife: Cut a lot</b><br />
While I love excess, overflow, and voluptuousness in some places, most poems are just plain flabby. To make your poem lean and mean, remove throat-clearing openings and spell-it-all-out endings. We tend to to "ramp up" rather than jump in. We tend to explain the meaning of our poems to make sure the reader gets it. Give your readers some credit; no need to hand-hold. You can also cut "the" in many places. Cut "of gold," and use "golden." "Of " is a wordiness alarm! Get rid of author commentary too -- noise-some parts in the middle that explain stuff. Let the poem embody the message rather than preach it. A warning: Don't let the knife cut out the heart of your piece, nor every bit of whimsy or flair. Whatever adds to the poem should remain. Whatever obscures your larger intent should go.<br />
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OK, writing this post has inspired me to go do something better with that "bored-looking woman." Wish me luck! And I wish it for you, too.RBalcarcelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08135527430306245795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5214715758626591518.post-86158108219797592772011-04-13T01:13:00.000-05:002013-03-23T19:51:18.605-05:00What the Judge is Looking ForA renovated warehouse + cookies + guitar music + people reading poems. It adds up to a lovely evening at <b>Trinity Valley Community College's Poetry Festival.</b> I just drove home from it, and I can report that the creative vibes of the evening are still with me!<br />
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To celebrate National Poetry Month, TVCC invites a poet to give a reading and judge their student poetry contest. The top student poets receive recognition, and all the poems appear in a journal. This year, I was honored to be their visiting poet and judge. THANKS to everyone who made the event such a success!<br />
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As I listened to the winning poems tonight, I remembered the qualities that made me choose each one. A great image here, a clever line there. An unusual topic. A musical cadence. They sounded even better in person!<br />
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In the back of my mind, though, I also recalled poems that fell short of their potential. Actually, I didn't recall the poems themselves, but the missteps that landed them in the "no" pile. Any of the contest entries could have been great poems, but only a few stood out. How did those few grab my attention? I'll tell you.<br />
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A few weeks ago, a bulging envelope arrived, and I sat down with a two-inch stack of poems. My assignment: whittle it down to ten. In the first pass, I hoped to find<br />
1) sensory language that made me imagine sights, sounds, smells, and taste<br />
2) metaphors, simile, personification, or other figures of speech<br />
3) interesting topic choice<br />
4) concrete details<br />
5) sound play beyond predictable rhymes <br />
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With this, I eliminated more than half. Poems that used all abstractions or rhymed in a nursery way, I set aside immediately. Poems about love (which was most of them!) got boring fast. Very short and very long poems felt like drafts.<br />
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Next, I reread. Now I looked for:<br />
1) complex emotional situations<br />
2) heft or <i>gravitas</i> in the issues raised by the poem<br />
3) humor that made me laugh, but also revealed a new perspective<br />
4) a strong voice that used fresh language<br />
5) harsh situations articulated with harsh sounds, like "t" and "ck"<br />
6) gentle situations articulated with gentle sounds like "sh" and "w"<br />
7) meaningful line breaks<br />
8) meaningful arrangement on the page and use of white space <br />
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This gave me a stack of about twenty. I read a third time and a fourth. Only a handful of these twenty revealed a little more every time. Those turned out to be the winners. Poems that kept me coming back.<br />
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I've judged about twenty contests in recent years, and I'm going to confess something: There's no foolproof way to rank or even fairly compare equally solid poems. Sometimes a clear "best one" emerges, but more often I'm left agonizing, trying to find a reason to choose one over another. At this point, each judge will go with her gut. For me, this means asking myself crazy stuff like which poem I would want a copy of or which poem I wish I had written. I might feel pulled to poems that touch on experiences I've had or philosophies I agree with. I might pick a poem that seems more novel and unusual or one that attempts something challenging. It's just plain unpredictable.<br />
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But, this is comforting. It means that your poem might be very good and still not take first place. Once it's polished to shine as much as possible, you can relax and not worry so much about what the results mean. I enter contests, too, and I'm going to try taking my own advice.<br />
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Meanwhile, I hope the students at tonight's Festival enjoyed themselves, win or lose. Just the act of writing is life-affirming and worthwhile. To all the writers in that room: Stay creative and keep writing!RBalcarcelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08135527430306245795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5214715758626591518.post-71008754147337133702011-04-11T16:42:00.003-05:002011-04-17T15:08:11.611-05:00What's a chapbook, should I publish one, and what makes a strong entry?Today my e-mail inbox contained an announcement: Chapbook Contest Deadline Extended! I'm glad because I was thinking about entering; now I can. But should I?<br />
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Chapbooks are little volumes of poetry, about fifteen to twenty pages long. (They can be longer, but not more than forty-eight pages, or even as short as ten pages.) Unlike books, they are usually staple-bound, giving them a fold rather than a spine. Think of them as either mini-books or hefty business cards.<br />
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<b>So why have one?</b> For one thing, it feels great to hold a printed volume of your work. Secondly, you are more likely to be invited to give poetry readings if you have a little book for the audience to buy. Third, a poet with a chapbook is taken more seriously by publishers. On your way to that first book, the chapbook makes a handy pit stop. Include this credit on those cover letters!<br />
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My own first chapbook came out in 2002. I'm indebted to a professor-friend who put my work in front of Richard Sale of Trilobite Press. This tiny press publishes annual chapbooks. For being so small, they'd published a couple of big names, like Naomi Shihab Nye. When my professor phoned to say that the press would publish my chapbook, I jumped up and down. Danced in my driveway. Called my writer friends. Called my mom! I'm still grateful, and that first volume gave me both confidence and credibility.<br />
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If you want to enter a chapbook contest, you'll find lots of them listed in Poets and Writers Magazine. Here's the one I heard about today: <a href="http://www.dallaspoets.org/A55656/DPC.nsf">Dallas Poetry Community Chapbook Contest</a><br />
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<b>For a strong entry, follow these tips:</b><br />
1) Make your title interesting, but not pretentiously artsy. I've seen lots of titles like, "Azurite<br />
Monkeys" or "Dream Hallucinations with Cloud." Puh-leez! It's fine to take the title of your best poem -- which is what I did.<br />
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2) Put a strong poem first. Give judges a reason to keep reading!<br />
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3) Create a narrative arc with the poems or arrange them in pairs and clusters that work together. Alternatively, you can sprinkle similarly-themed poems throughout, giving the reader a thread to pick up multiple times.<br />
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4) Don't hide weak poems; cut them. If you don't have fifteen solid poems, wait until you do to enter.<br />
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5) Reread these poems as a group to catch language tics and repeated metaphors. If you've written these poems over a few years' time, you might not realize that two of them contain similar phrases. Revise where needed.<br />
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6) Polish every line of every poem. Don't let any flabby, music-less lines live!<br />
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7) Realize that the last line of the last poem is also the last line of the chapbook. Ideally, this line will leave the reader wow-ed.<br />
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If you have a decent pile of poems, and you're thinking about entering a chapbook contest, you're probably ready for it. Why not try? If you win a chapbook contest, let me know!RBalcarcelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08135527430306245795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5214715758626591518.post-40714353387514419952011-04-11T00:28:00.002-05:002011-04-17T15:10:59.770-05:00Should I join writing group?Every year or so, I ask myself this question! Here's my answer.<br />
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Writers of all levels can benefit from sharing their work with a trusted reader. As a beginning writer, I found those trusted readers at a local writing group. I'd print out a new poem and carry it breathlessly to the meeting. If even one person gave a positive or helpful comment, I was thrilled. I gotta admit, though, that as I gained in confidence and experience, I drifted away from established groups and switched to sharing my work with a couple of writer-friends. Still, I'd encourage folks to try a group. The company of other writers can nourish us like nothing else!<br />
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TRYING A GROUP<br />
A Google search will help you find a local group. Public libraries often host writers' groups, too, or can point you in the right direction. Writers meet online as well. I like <a href="http://poetry.meetup.com/">http://poetry.meetup.com/</a>. Just type in your zip code and - shazam! - you'll see a list of writing organizations near you. <br />
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If you do try a writing group, keep a few things in mind:<br />
<ul><li>Each group has its own culture. If you visit once, and it feels like a fit, great. If not, there's probably another group out there that will suit you better.</li>
<li>The critique you receive will vary in quality. You're the AUTHORity on your own work, so be open to suggestions, but trash comments that are unhelpful.</li>
<li>Not all writers in the group are going to write much. Realize that some of them gather for social reasons, putting that first and writing second.</li>
<li>Some groups charge dues or fees; others don't. Check the group's website for details. If the group does collect money, find out what it's used for. Typically, the cash covers the costs of renting the meeting space or bringing in guest speakers.</li>
<li>Be ready to separate people's work from their personal identity. Don't assume that the poem reflects the poet's life or you'll offend someone. When you critique, focus on the craft (word choices, metaphor, sound play, etc.), not the political views or cultural values of the poem.</li>
</ul>WRITING GROUP BENEFITS<br />
Participating in a writing group gave me:<br />
1) deadlines for writing new poems<br />
2) permission to focus energy on writing<br />
3) a sense of community<br />
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Though I don't belong to a formal group right now, I'm glad I did.RBalcarcelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08135527430306245795noreply@blogger.com3