Poetry, Prose, or Both?

Originally posted on April 18, 2011 at 12:02 PM

I stand in a somewhat unique perspective as a writer in that I work on poetry and fiction almost equally. Of course, fiction takes longer to actually write, but I would say that my personal evaluation of poetry and fiction in my life has them neck-and-neck. I pursue each with equal passion, and firmly believe in the value of both. (Oh, I know I’m not the only one. Most writers at least dabble in both.) This recently got me thinking.

Is my dual writing life a good thing, or a bad thing?

I can’t help but wonder if it’s like playing two sports as a kid. Sure, when you’re little you can do basketball, soccer, and baseball. Why not? It’s testing the waters – seeing what’s out there, what you’re good at, and what feels best to you. But eventually, as you get into jr. high and then high school, most people are pushed to specialize. If you stretch yourself thin playing three sports, the practices begin to overlap, your team spirit gets stretched thin, and you never get quite enough time to excel at any of them. I’ve seen this first hand: if you get serious about sports – let’s say you want a scholarship and to eventually go pro – you need to pick one and put every bit of your effort, skill, and practice into it. It sets you up for the highest probability of success.

So it stands to reason that writing could be the same. When you’re young you can experiment with fiction, nonfiction, and poetry, and no one minds. They encourage it, even. You learn a lot, find what you’re best at, and stretch your creative muscles by doing all three. But if you want to go pro – let’s say you want to start seeking publication – is it time to narrow down your field and specialize in one sport? I mean genre? I know some would argue yes. Obviously, based on the “fiction” and “poetry” tabs at the top of my page, I say no.

Here’s why.

Poetry Makes Prose More Beautiful

I can already hear angry novelists asserting that ___InsertFamousAuthorHere____ has the most lovely prose of all time and he/she LOATHED poetry. Thought it was a big bag full of steaming horse crap dipped in bologna sauce. Well, sure. There are always exceptions. If you’re into that sort of thing. But in my experience, the best passages of fiction, while still prose, have a poetic quality to them. A beauty belied by unique word choice, musical sentence structure, and rhythm. Edgar Allan Poe, Emily Bronte, Maya Angelou, and Ray Bradbury are just a few examples.

Story Plotting Makes Poetry More Structured

When you get really serious about becoming a published poet, you start putting together collections in either a chapbook or full-length manuscript. I’ve see many a manuscript that appears to be, quite simply, all of the poems a poet has written, smashed between two covers and given a vague title, and I can’t help but wonder if this practice is born of a lack of knowledge of how to do otherwise. Poets don’t think large-scale, usually. We think one poem at a time. We get a little idea, write it down, and move on. Our poems don’t have to connect to one another. And it is often only until we begin putting together a collection that we realize, Hey, maybe they should.

If there’s one thing a novelist has to have down, it’s the big picture. Very few fiction writers (of long pieces, I should specify) sit down, begin writing, and hope it gets them to a logical conclusion in 80,000 words or so. That novel would either be the most boring story ever or the most bizarre. We novelists know how to plan; we know how to step back and make sure these little things (poems, scenes) add up and contribute to a big thing that works.

Now, I’m not saying that a writer has to be a novelist to produce a coherent poetry collection. And I’m not saying a writer has to be a poet to write a lovely novel. I’m sure, with work, those skills can be learned in each craft without ever dipping into the other. All I’m saying is that perhaps this process is made easier by dipping into both. And after all, this isn’t high school. There are no scholarships here. Why not play both sports? If you’re truly passionate about each and willing to put in twice the practice time, there’s no reason to kick one to the curb. Double dip.

What do you think? Is specializing a sad necessity of the industry these days, or do the skill sets for one genre boost the products of another?

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Poetry Critique. Really?

Originally posted on April 8, 2011 at 9:00 AM

Today’s guest post courtesy of Jan Spence.

On Tuesdays for almost four years, I’ve enjoyed going down to a local coffeehouse on Denton’s downtown square to join other fellow poets for a small, intimate critique group. We only meet for the lunch hour, but there is ample time for each of us to read one poem and receive suggestions.

What is the nitty-gritty of poetry critique? Some writers question the value and the efficacy of critiquing poetry. Like art, they say, poetry is personal preference. And to a certain extent, that’s true. But also, like art, there are basic precepts and structures that are hallmarks of skilled artisans. While we might not “like” a particular work of art enough to pay big bucks and hang it on our wall, we can still appreciate the skill of the artist and recognize the worth of the creation. In my humble opinion, the same is true for poetry.

For me, this weekly gathering has yielded a few benefits not connected to any one specific poem. First, it keeps me writing and creating new work to take to the meeting. Although it is considered acceptable to go without bringing a poem, I’m stubborn, and I don’t want to show up empty-handed. Secondly, I get to listen to other poetic voices in the group who write very differently from me, and I learn from them. However, perhaps the biggest perk is the feeling of connection to and trust in the other writers in our group. A biggie.

Beyond these general benefits, what are the types of critiques that tend to emerge and prove most helpful? Each of us, at one time or another, has been encouraged to lop off a line, a stanza, or a word to make the poetic ending more succinct and powerful. The judge of the first and most well-funded contest of National Federation of State Poetry Societies (NFSPS) was asked what he/she saw as the most common problem for those poems which did not place. The reply? “The poem went on after it could have been considered finished.” (See NFSPS and follow the Poetry Contests link.) I was surprised. Are you?

Would I or my fellow poet buddies be able to eventually arrive at this conclusion on our own? Maybe. In some cases, probably. But not always. For me, once words have found their way onto my page, they tend to claim squatter’s rights. Some are easy to slice away, but those which become favorites create a screaming blur of angst before disappearing into the dark hole of deletion. So hearing the suggestion to cut, cut, cut from another objective, trusted writer helps rescue me from my own word infatuations.

Want to try something new? The group can tell you if you are on track. Personally, I think mystery is fun to weave into my writing, but creating those shadows for the reader that tell her what she needs to know while withholding or only inferring the rest is a tricky balance. More than once, my fellow critiquers have pinpointed the place in a poem where they got lost or were led to a faulty assumption. That’s invaluable feedback in creating just the right amount of intrigue. Your “something new” may be different, but you get the idea.

Other simple observations can serve to speed up the editing process: Spotting unintentionally repeated words; offering a possible substitution of one or two words to achieve assonance, alliteration, or internal rhyme; letting me know if a rhyme scheme feels forced. Those are elements that all writers go back and assess, but the critique interactions can keep the revision process moving forward at a nice clip. I like that! Patience isn’t my finest virtue.

Still resistant? No problem. Critique in a group setting may not be for you. You may be a writer who wants to follow a solitary path to the completion of your work. You may not be ready to expose your tender creations to the eyes of others’ honesty. However, if you are in the company of other poets who are close to your writing level, and if you trust that these fellow wordsmithing friends want the best for you in your writing, you might decide to give it a try. Being willing to hear others’ ideas about my poetry has been the right choice for me.

So, poetry critique? Absolutely!! The nice thing about any critique you receive is that the work is still your creation, and you can decide whether to follow the suggestions – or not. What do you have to lose? Poetry does lend itself to critique, and the process can enhance the skills of both the poet and the critiquer. I have experienced it. You can, too, if you take the plunge. Start your own group and never look back! You can thank me later.

* * *

Jan is one of the few people who seems to be on the same wave-length as I am (God help us); I instantly liked her for that. She is graceful, sharp-witted, and an unabashed realist – just like her poetry. Her critique is unfailingly honest. And perhaps I am only luckier to have her as a critique partner in having her as a friend. She makes me (and my poetry) better on a weekly basis.

Jan Spence is a writer of short stories, creative non-fiction and award-winning poetry. Her work has appeared in or will be forthcoming in Versifico, Poetry Society of Texas Book of the Year 2009, Book of the Year 2011 and Collections I. A charter member of the Denton Poets’ Assembly, she currently serves as Treasurer of that organization. She lives in Denton with her husband and enjoys teaching and practicing yoga.

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10 Must-Read American Poets (& Their 5 Must-Read Poems)

Originally posted on April 13, 2011 at 9:17 AM

(in chronological order)

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 – 1882)

• Concord Hymn
• The Rhodora
• Each and All
• The Snowstorm
• Give All To Love

Edgar Allan Poe (1809 – 1849)

• A Dream Within a Dream
• Annabel Lee
• The Raven
• The Bells
• Romance

Walt Whitman (1819 – 1892)

• Oh Captain my Captain
• To You
• One’s-Self I Sing.
• O Me! O Life!
• As I Ponder’d in Silence.

Emily Dickinson (1830 – 1886)

• Not in Vain
• There is another sky
• If those I loved were lost
• I’m Nobody! Who are you?
• Because I could not stop for Death

Robert Frost (1874 – 1963)

• The Road Not Taken
• Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
• Mending Wall
• Nothing Gold Can Stay
• Fire and Ice

T.S. Eliot (1888 – 1965)

• The Wasteland
• The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
• The Hollow Men
• The Naming Of Cats
• Journey Of The Magi

E.E. Cummings (1894 – 1962)

• i carry your heart with me
• anyone lived in a pretty how town
• Somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond
• Seeker of truth
• a pretty a day

Hart Crane (1899 – 1932)

• Chaplinesque
• For the Marriage of Faustus and Helen
• Lachrymae Christi
• Voyages
• To Brooklyn Bridge

Maya Angelou (1928 – present)

• I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
• Phenomenal Woman
• Still I Rise
• Touched by an Angel
• Men

Billy Collins (1941 – present)

• Litany
• The Lanyard
• The Art Of Drowning
• Introduction To Poetry
• Snow Day

5 Extra Credit Poets (5 pts. a Poem)

William Carlos Williams (1883 – 1963)

• This is Just to Say
• The Red Wheelbarrow
• Poem (As the cat)
• Spring and All
• The Dance

Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 – 1950)

• First Fig
• Renascence
• What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why (Sonnet XLIII)
• Love Is Not All
• Travel

Langston Hughes (1902 – 1967)

• Dream Deferred
• Let America be America Again
• I, Too, Sing America
• Life is Fine
• Mother to Son

Sylvia Plath (1932 – 1963)

• A Life
• Metaphors
• Daddy
• Mad Girl’s Love Song
• Lady Lazarus

Wallace Stevens (1941 – present)

• Anecdote Of The Jar
• Thirteen Ways Of Looking At A Blackbird
• The Emperor Of Ice-Cream
• The Snow Man
• Sunday Morning

I know these are mostly old (read: dead), but I’m not a prophet. I’m not even a poetry critic (maybe in another life). I can’t predict who will stand the test of time. But don’t let that deter you; there are dozens of excellent contemporary poets out there.

This post is obviously subjective. It involved a lot more “compiling” than “writing,” and ended up being a combination of my opinion, experts’ opinions, and the popular vote. Disagree with one of my choices? Think I left out someone very important? I’d love to hear your thoughts below!

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10 Poetry Myths–Busted.

Originally posted on April 6, 2011 at 3:41 PM

1. Poetry is boring.

You zombied out during the entire poetry semester in high school. You’d rather be poked in the eye with a spoon repeatedly that sit through an open mic. You use a book of poetry to help you fall asleep every night. I get it.

Busted: the juicy stuff.

• War poems. “The Charge of the Light Brigade” by Alfred Lord Tennyson
• Erotica. “may i feel said he” by ee cummings
• Horror poetry. “Lamia” by John Keats

2. Poetry is all the same (There’s nothing new to say).

Flowers. Love. Loss. Nature. Barf.

Busted: fresh ideas.

• your beloved dog actually wants to kill you: “Revenant” by Billy Collins
• “You Can’t Write a Poem About McDonald’s” by Ronald Wallace
• tricking oysters: “The Walrus and The Carpenter” by Lewis Carroll

3. Form poetry has contrived word choice.

You’ve seen one too many poets cram a senseless line into an otherwise decent poem to fulfill formatic requirements. You’ve heard one too many bizarre rhymes. You yourself have written one to many crappers in an attempt to pop out a sonnet. Form poetry just kind of blows.

Busted: poems that use forms (rather than being used).

• “Pity me not” by Edna St. Vincent Millay (sonnet)
• “In Flanders Fields” by Lieut-Col John McCrae (rondeau)
• “Do not go gentle into that good night” by Dylan Thomas (villanelle)

4. If it doesn’t rhyme (or have meter), it’s not poetry.

There are purists who will adamantly argue this. I am not one of them. They are quibbling technicalities. I may not be able to define poetry, but I damn well know it when I see it.

Busted: beautiful free verse.

• “in Just-” by E. E. Cummings
• “Forgetfulness” by Hart Crane
• “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T. S. Eliot

5. Poetry is cryptic.

You’re tired of hearing professors ask you to “read between the lines.” You roll your eyes when hipsters in bars say, “But what does he mean by that?” You’re least favorite phrase is “What I think the poet is really trying to say here…”

Busted: poems that mean exactly what they say.

• “High Flight” by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.
• “Funeral Blues” by W.H. Auden
• “How Did You Die?” by Edmund Vance Cooke

6. Poetry is pretentious.

Poets tie their sweaters around the shoulders instead of their hips. They drink special coffees at indie shops. They refuse to shave various body parts on some moral/social/economical/intellectual principle. They have secret clubs.

Busted: down to earth poems.

• “Hangover” by Billy Collins
• “My Papa’s Waltz” by Theodore Roethke
• “Sick” by Shel Silverstein

7. You can’t make money off of poetry.

Starving artist. We’re all familiar.

Busted: money-makers.

• Maya Angelou is a millionaire.
• In 1999, Random House gave Billy Collins a six-figure sum for a three-book deal.
• The Academy of American Poets alone gives over 100,000 in grants and awards every year.

8. Poetry is a dying art.

No one writes poetry anymore. Or if they do, they’re going to die soon.

Busted: poets under 30.

• Ellen Kennedy (1989 – )
• Chelsea Martin (1986 – )
• Daniel Bailey (1984 – )

9. Anyone can write poetry.

The implication, with this myth, is that anyone can write poetry well. It’s hard to deny that anyone can write it; it’s hardly an exclusive sport. But the idea here is that the big names are crocks, that they could easily be replaced by no-namers, and that this poetry thing doesn’t really take skill, work, or dedication.

Busted: awful poetry by famous people.

A Night without Armor by Jewel
Touch Me by Suzanne Somers
Will I Think of You by Leonard Nimoy (Star Trek’s Mr. Spock)

10. Poetry can’t be critiqued.

Poetry, at its most glorified, is straight expression from the heart. It is Art. With the capital “A.” You can’t touch that, man.

Busted:

You totally can. And if you’re trying to be a professional about it, you should. Fiction, painting, sculpture, music, and acting are all “Art” too, but people give them the respect of critique. Why should poetry be any different?

More on critiquing poetry in Friday’s guest blog.

Truth: “I can’t write it, so I don’t like to read it.”

Busted:

Okay, so this isn’t exactly a myth. But it is a barrier. And a silly one, at that. Do you not look at paintings because you can’t create them? Don’t eat gourmet food because you don’t think you could cook it? Don’t be a goof ball. You don’t have to be an excellent poet to read and appreciate excellent poetry.

Truth: “73% of all poetry is not worth reading.” – Billy Collins

Busted:

This is no excuse. There are a lot of crappy everythings out there, from seamstresses to musicians, but people haven’t vowed to stop getting things altered or stop listening to music. Just let the passionates do the weeding out for you, and read the poets that other people have already shown to be good. Ain’t no thing.

Have a poetry myth to add and bust? Or something to disagree with? Comments.

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Poetry 101: A Crash-Course on Poetic Devices

Originally posted on April 4, 2011 at 2:31 PM

I thought I would take this opportunity to highlight some of the most important basics of poetry. For some of you, this might be old hat, and for others it might look a little like hieroglyphics. But don’t get overwhelmed. There’s no need to memorize this information all at once (in fact, I recommend that you don’t). The best way to learn about poetic devices is by reading poetry. Applied learning is always more practical than memorization. *And as you read, perhaps you’d like to check back here as a reference.

The two most basic things to understand about poetry are rhyme and meter. They are not to be confused, and are not always used together.

Rhyme

There are two options when it comes to rhyme: rhymed or non-rhymed. Rhymed types include traditional forms (such as the sonnet, villanelle, and pantoum) and created forms. Non-rhymed types include free verse, blank verse, and prose poetry.

There are several types of rhyme. When people speak of a “rhymed poem,” they invariably mean end rhyme. End rhyme is just what it sounds: the last sounds of the line rhymes with the last sounds of the next line. Assonance and consonance are both types of slant or near rhyme (impure). If that rhyme is vowel-based (peck/met) it’s called assonance. If it’s consonant-based (maximum/taxes) it’s called consonance (alliteration is a form of consonance where the consonance occurs at the beginning of the words- please/play). Slightly more sophisticated than end rhyme is internal rhyme, as seen in Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven,” where words in mid-line rhyme with one another.

Meter

Meter is, most simply put, formally organized rhythm. (The most well-known example of meter is iambic pentameter, like Shakespeare often used.) When you could guess the stress (emphasis) of the next word based on a line, that line is most likely metered. There are three options when it comes to meter: metered, non-metered, or syllabic. In English and French forms, meter is the clear preference. In many Asian forms, syllable count takes preference over meter (as in the infamous haiku). In free verse, meter and syllable count are ignored completely.

The components of meter are called feet. There are four types of metrical feet: the iamb, the trochee, the anapest, and the dactyl. (I will underline the syllable that gets the emphasis.) The iamb is unstressed/stressed (he sang). The trochee is stressed/unstressed (sing it). The anapest is unstressed/unstressed/stressed (and they sang). The dactyl is stressed/unstressed/unstressed (after the).

Whether a foot has two syllables or three (dissyllabic or trisyllabic), the number of them in a line determines the #meter. One foot is a monometer, two is dimeter, three is trimeter, four is tetrameter, five is pentameter, etc.

So if you combine the type of foot with the number of feet, you get the meter of the lines. Iambic pentameter is a line composed of five iambic feet. Trochaic tetrameter is a line composed of four trochaic feet. You see? The possibilities are endless. Learning to scan (read a poem and determine its meter) does take some time, practice, and patience. And honestly — if you want to get advanced — perhaps a natural ear for it.

Examples of “types” of poems having rhyme and/or meter:

• traditional Shakespearean sonnet: rhymed and metered
• blank verse: metered but not rhymed
• created forms: rhymed but not metered
• Englyn: rhymed and syllabic
• haiku: syllabic but not rhymed
• free verse: not rhymed, not metered
• prose poem: not rhymed, not metered

Using different requirements of rhyme and/or meter gives us the different poetic forms. The sonnet, for example, is the most well-known traditional form. Other forms that employ rhyme and/or meter include the pantoum, the villanelle, the englyn (syllabic), the rondeau (my personal favorite), the rondel, the rondeau redouble, the ballad, the cinquain (syllabic), the haiku (syllabic), the minute (syllabic and metrical), the limerick, the ottava rima, the triolet…

Some other terms worth knowing:

ekphrastic poetry– poetry that comments on another form of art (a painting, sculpture, novel, etc.) For an example, go check out the Merging Visions Exhibit.
end-stopped– when a line has a logical pause at the end (i.e., there is a period at the end of that line)
enjambment– when a line “runs over” into the next line for full meaning (the opposite of end-stopped)
shape poem– a poem where the arrangement of the words on the page is vital to the meaning or interpretation of the poem. (i.e., a poem about a tornado in which the poems create the shape of a twister visually)
wrenched accent– pronouncing a word unnaturally to force it into a metrical pattern (in my opinion, this can be the fault of the poet OR the reader)

And remember, the whole point of this is to better understand poetry – not to be overwhelmed by it. If all else fails, skip what you don’t understand, skip what you don’t like, and read out loud.

*For more expanded reading, my favorite terminology resource is a book recommended to me by a friend: Poetry Handbook, A dictionary of Terms, by Babette Deutsch (mine’s the 4th edition). It hasn’t failed me yet!

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