Prompt #247 – What If

Last week, Deborah LaVeglia, my friend and fellow poet, posted the Coleridge poem below on her Facebook page, and I was so grateful to her for reintroducing me to a poem I've always found intriguing but haven’t read in years.

What if you slept
And what if
In your sleep
You dreamed
And what if
In your dream
You went to heaven
And there plucked a strange and beautiful flower
And what if
When you awoke
You had that flower in you hand
Ah, what then?

 

The whole "condition" of "if" in this poem fascinates me. Some time ago, in prompt #188, we worked with "if" clauses. (Click here for prompt #188.) That prompt, was intended to address the specific ways in which conditional clauses create mood, conditions, limitations, dependencies, and expectations. The Coleridge poem suggests something different, and our goal this week will be far from the same.

Poems like the one above can empower our imaginations (and surprise us) as we briefly leave what we know and move into a place of fabricated experience where we aren’t bound by geography or time.

Accordingly, this week, let’s write “What If” poems. Not “if, then” poems in which an idea put forward is followed by a result. Instead, simply consider a single “what if,” and don’t speculate on what happens because of it. In other words, try to write a poem based on the poem above but make it your own.  This will call for some special thinking and planning.

 Guidelines:

1. Spend time thinking about an occurrence with unexplainable connotations (read the Coleridge poem again).

2. Once you have an idea, begin by free writing for a while.

3. If you have trouble with this one, try working your poem around the pattern of Coleridge’s poem. Set your poem up, initially anyway, to look like Coleridge’s. Here’s rough idea of what I mean:

What if _____________
And what if _____________
In ______________
You ____________
And what if ________________
In your _____________
You _________________
And ___________________
And what if ______________
When ________________
You had ______________

Ah, what then?

(Notice that all lines begin with caps and there's no terminal punctuation until the last line.)

4. Keep in mind that the idea is to pose the question of a “what if” but not to offer any answers, results, or “what happens after.” Leave your readers with an aura of mystery and something to think about!

Tips:

1. Create an impression of the unexplained. Leave your “what if” unanswered—don’t even hint at answers.

2. End with a question.

3. Think in terms of image and sound, pace and nuance.

4. Include details—but not too many, and beware of using too many adjectives. Remember that your goal in this isn’t to create a picture but, rather, to create a sense of mystery and question.

4. After you’ve written a few drafts, let the poem sit for a while (a few days even). When you go back to it, take out anything that isn’t absolutely essential.

If you'd like to read a poem by Deborah LaVeglia, click here.

 

Etiquette for Soliciting Poetry Readings by Guest Blogger Joe Weil

 

This week, I’m happy to introduce (or re-introduce) you to poet Joe Weil.  If you're a long-time blog follower, you may recall Joe's previous blog contributions (click on the titles below to read):

Advent Reflection by Joe Weil

Spiritual Poetry

I’ve known Joe since 1981 and have long admired his amazing poetry, his quick wit, and his uncommon intelligence.

Joe was born and raised in Elizabeth, New Jersey and has been described by The New York Times as personifying that town: "working-class, irreverent, modest, but open to the world and filled with a wealth of possibilities." After atttending St. Mary of The Assumption grade school and high school, he worked the graveyard shift at various factories for more than 20 years, mainly at National Tool and Manufacturing in Kenilworth, New Jersey. During this time, he became involved in hosting poetry readings in both New Jersey and New York, and founded the literary magazine Black Swan Review. He is currently a lecturer in the creative writing department at Binghamton University. He and his wife, the poet Emily Vogel, have two children—Clare and Gabriel (Gabriel is my godson).

Often, when I conduct workshops, I’m asked how poets go about getting readings. Readings are important to those of us who write. They offer opportunities to share our work "up close and personal" and to connect in real "poetry time" with our audiences. As a reading series director since 1998, I think I've probably "seen it all" when it comes to poets looking for reading venues. There are definitely "dos" and "don'ts."

When I saw that Joe had written something about exactly that, I knew I wanted to share it on this blog. So … here it is, with my thanks to Joe for his permission to post it. 

Enjoy, learn and, hopefully, get some readings going.

 ____________________________________

Etiquette for Soliciting Readings by Joe Weil

1. Before sending a brochure online or hard copy of what you have to offer as a featured reader, it's always good to get an email address and send a query letter to the host asking if he or she or they wouldn't mind getting a brochure or packet via online or hard copy. These are materials. A simple packet may include:

a web site address where they can behold your glory, or, if sans web, a packet of sample poems, brief bio, a nice JPEG, list of previous readings and name of the book you may be trying to sell. You can also include press clippings, an actual video of you reading, anything you think will impress the host. But first inquire. Don't bombard anyone. As a host of readings for over 20 years I hated the hard sell. The poets who were good never pressured me. Remember some series are booked a year in advance (this seems to be the fact of funding and organization), so, if the host does not book you right away, be patient, and, if the reading is near you, why not go and support it? Do the legwork. If there's an open, read a poem in it—one really good one. Half my readings came from initially reading in the opens.

2. Make sure, if you're doing several readings in an area that, you don't book in such a way that you diminish one series for another—in short, try not to read within 20 miles of the same series at least three weeks before the gig. If you're reading in Philly and New York City, or some other place crowded with readings, then that's a different ball game. Show up early. Don’t pull the “show up late and therefore be the headline feature.” I hate when poets show up late for their own gigs. It's all too often a power game. They want to control the event. If you are late, call and let the host know you're lost or brain dead or whatever. Don't just flutter in with your three names and your Ezra Pound cape.

3. If possible stay for the whole event. Be gracious if there's an open, stay and listen. What you receive for your graciousness and presence exceeds any snobbishness or loathing you might experience. I HATE snobs whose elitism exceeds their talent. If you're truly a genius, I might tolerate it. Otherwise, I'll never have you feature for me again because you took off and left the people who came to see you high and dry. If you have to leave early, please be slavishly apologetic about it. I love slavishly apologetic. Even when it’s insincere, I prefer it to "Sorry. Have to go! See you later!"

4. Never, ever, over-read! Under-read by about a minute. If someone gives you an hour, they've made a pact with boring. Can you honestly hold a crowd for an hour without the little coughs and groans mounting? Never, never, say: “Four more poems!” or “Two more poems!” or anything other than "This is my last poem." I hate when I'm sitting there and my attention span is already stretched into transparency and I hear: “four more poems.” NOOOOOO! Don't do that to me (or to any other sentient creature).

5. Practice your readings, get an idea of how much time each of your poems takes, including intro, chit chat, etc. Good chitchat is part of the performance. Bad chitchat (such as a five minute speech before a haiku) is awful. If you're going to riffle through pages looking for a poem (and we all do that sometimes) be coy and flirtatious and as attractive as possible while doing so. Adjust your glasses, take a sip of water. Use that space to center the audience. Don't just fumble.

6. If possible, include one poem by another poet—a favorite, preferably one you know by heart. Dylan Thomas filled half his famous readings with the works of other poets.

7. Keep a log of how your set went. Keep track of how many books you sold. Observe the crowd. Old, young, academic, townspeople?

8. Right now, people underplay reading, but it’s the best way to reward your publisher for putting out a book—get out there and sell it.

________________________________________________________

Joe's books are available via Amazon.com—
no poet's library should be without at least one! 

 Click on the titles to order.

The Great Grandmother Light

Painting the Christmas Trees

The Plumber's Apprentice

West of Home (with Emily Vogel)

Gabriel, Emily, Clare, and Joe

MORNING AT THE ELIZABETH ARCH 

By Joe Weil

The winos rise as beautiful as deer.

Look how they stagger from their sleep
as if the morning were a river
against which they contend.

This is not a sentiment
filled with the disdain
of human pity.
They turn in the mind,
they turn
beyond the human order.

One scratches his head and yawns.
Another rakes a hand
through slick mats of thinning hair.
They blink and the street litter moves
its slow, liturgical way.
A third falls back
bracing himself on an arm.

At river’s edge, the deer stand poised.
One breaks the spell of his reflection with a hoof
and, struggling, begins to cross.

(Reprinted by permission of the author.)

Prompt #246 – At the Touch of Love

 

At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.

— Plato

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and, although the idea may seem just a bit trite, this is always a good time of year to read and write love poems.

To get inspired, there’s a great site selection of love poems on the Poetry Foundation’s website, which you can access by CLICKING HERE.

Of course, the prompt this week is exactly what you might expect: write a love poem.

Guidelines:

1. Think about different kinds of love that you’ve experienced personally (romantic, familial, love of nature or animals, friendship, platonic), and choose one that signifies a powerful emotional experience for you.

2. Start with a freewrite (and remember that freewriting can take place any time during drafting and, editing, and revising).

3. Try several ideas for love poems and keep the ideas that are keepers.

4. Experiment with stanza breaks but not too early in the writing process. Stanzas can help expose weak spots as well as wordiness and unnecessary repetitions.

Tips:

1. Often, love poems get a “bad rap” because some have been written that are overly sentimental, “mushy,” too personal, too confessional, or grossly overwritten. The challenge for you this week is to write a poem that involves love in some form or another and to observe the following:

• Strive for uniqueness (not the typical “How Do I Love Thee?” fare). Find ways to distinguish between the individual and the common.

• Create a sense of revelation without being overtly revealing. Remember the old poetry adage, “show don’t tell.”

• Remember that one of the biggest difficulties in writing love poems isn’t writing about love but, rather, writing about the feelings that underlie the love we feel and our attempts to recreate those feelings in ways that are understandable and believable.

• If you choose to write a romantic love poem, make sure you write between the lines and go beyond the first blush of romance.

Happy Valentine's Day! 

Prompt #245 – Take Five

 

I’ve always felt that reading poetry can go a long way toward generating poetry. We’re often inspired by what we read, we discover new forms and styles, and we find interesting examples of how language can be used in different and engaging ways.

Inspiration comes in many forms. Often, when we read another poet’s poem, we feel inspired, encouraged, and perhaps even compelled to write something of our own. In general, derivative works are frowned upon, but finding bits of stimulation here can be a very good thing. It's how we use what inspires us that makes the difference.

This week, to encourage poetry reading and to explore some ways in which other poets’ words can motivate us, we’re going to begin with poems that other poets have written.

Guidelines:

1. The first thing I’d like you to do is select five short poems from books you have or from the Internet. Try to use poems that are under 40 lines each. The poems may be old favorites or new discoveries—you decide.

2. Read all five poems carefully.

3. Jot down 5 interesting things about each of the poems you selected. 

• Write down one stunning, startling, or otherwise noteworthy image from the poem.

• How does the poet invite you into the poem? Is there a “hook” in the first line?

• How does the last line, the dismount, bring the poem to closure?

• What’s unique about the last line? 

• What has the poet written that resonates for you?

• Make a note of anything else that stands out in the poems you’ve selected.

4. Now, in the spirit of writing a cento, borrow a meaning, metaphor, simile, line, phrase, image, or word from each of the five poems you chose. Altogether, that’s only five things—only one from each of the poems you chose to read.

Note: Cento is the Latin word for patchwork (as in patchwork quilt). In poetry, a cento is made entirely of lines taken from poems by other authors. The rules are simple: no more than one line may be taken from any one poem; any number of quotes is acceptable; and centos may be rhymed or unrhymed. Remember that “borrowing” other poets’ words is typically regarded as an honorific practice when the work is well-done and sources are properly credited. Be sure to provide credits (usually at the end of your poem).

5.  Reflect on your five “borrowed” items. What do they suggest to you? Do they, in any way, lead you to a subject for a poem of your own? Establish the subject for a poem.

6. At this point, begin to write a poem in which you incorporate all five of the “borrowed” items; but, here’s the challenge: unlike writing a cento, you can’t quote anything directly. In other words, the things you chose for the poems you read are purely for inspiration. All the words in your poem must be completely your own.

Tips:

1. Let yourself be inspired gently, take whatever suggestions the poems you read might have to offer, but don’t be locked into anything.

2. Spend a lot of time, playing” with the ideas you gathered from other people’s poems. Where do they lead you? What moments of inspiration do they bring? How can you “piggy back” from these ideas into something spectacular of your own?

3. Be sure to reject anything that doesn’t fit the poem you begin to write.

4. Keep your poem short, don’t ramble.

5. After you’ve written a draft, look for “lifeless” parts of the poem and delete or rework them.

6. In the end, your new poem should bear little or no resemblance to any of the poems you read. 

7. Remember, this isn’t a prompt about “grand theft poetry”—it’s a prompt about how other people’s writing can inspire your own!

Prompt #244 – What I Didn't

Some time back I posted a list of dos and don’ts for writing poetry. This week, I’m going to revisit that list with the specific intention of enhancing the poems you write for this prompt. You’ll find the list under “Tips.”

Guidelines:

1. Reflect for a few moments on a difficult decision or choice you’ve had to make.

2. What were the implications of the decision you made? What happened as a result? What didn’t happened? Was your decision a good one or not?

3. Now, here’s the challenge: write a poem about what might have happened had you made a different decision or choice. In other words, explore the possibilities of what you didn’t opt to do.

4. After you’ve drafted your poem, take a look at the tips below. One by one, apply each to your poem and make appropriate edits.

Tips:

Don’t: End with a moral.

Don’t: Close with an “I’m going to tell you what this poem is about” ending.

Don’t: Go with an expected outcome (especially in a narrative poem). Shake up your readers’ expectations.

Don’t: Use up all the air in your poem on the last couple of lines—leave the reader room to breathe.

Don’t: Undercut your poem’s “authority” by ending with trivia or a “so what” line that doesn’t make your readers gasp.

Don’t: Conclude with a sentimental or emotional statement (both sentiment and emotion may be heartfelt but, when they’re blatantly stated, they can detract from the power of your poem).

Don’t: Close the door on your poem; leave it slightly ajar.

Do: Link the end of the poem to the beginning but not overtly—and don’t over-write.

Do: Write beyond the last line, then go back and find the last line hidden in what you’ve written.

Do: Use more one-syllable words than multi-syllable words in your last couple of lines (think in terms of strong verbs and no superfluous language).

Do: Try (minimal) repetition from another part of the poem—sometimes this can work very well.

Do: Resist the urge to apologize (or to even suggest apology).

Do: Leave your reader something to reflect upon.

Do: Point toward something broader than the body of the poem.

Do: Create a new resonance for your readers, a lit spark that doesn’t go out when the poem is “over.”

           

Example:

The Road Not Taken 

     By Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Prompt #243 – What Does Your Poem Mean?

It may be said that poems are in one way like icebergs:
only about a third of their bulk appears above the surface of the page.
—Howard Nemerov

A short time ago, I came across the following Facebook post by my dear friend and fellow poet, Michael T. Young:

“When people ask what a poem means, it seems they expect to be led back to some point of origin that is a clear thought, articulated as prose, and which then defines the poem. The problem is that poems emerge out of fog. A poet doesn’t have a thought that he translates into words but more often he has a vague feeling, “a sense of wrong, a homesickness”—as Frost called it—that he struggles to find words for. It’s one of the reasons it nearly always stumps a poet to be asked what his poem means. A poet has this vague feeling he struggles to find words for and that poem is the meaning he wrestled out of the vagueness. The poem is the clarity which came out of that fog. To then have someone ask what the poem means is like asking what a dollar bill costs or what the length of a yardstick is. It’s a redundancy and a regression to obscurity. The poem is the meaning that was sought and found. The meaning is found in the destination, which is the poem, and not in the origin, which was the blank page. So, to take a reader back there is to lead them back into the fog, into the vagueness the poem emerged from, not to return to some point of clarity. The poem is the clarity.”

(Reprinted by permission of Michael T. Young.)

 

Click Here to Visit Michael's Website

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Click Here to Order Michael's Book on Amazon

The connection Michael makes between meaning and clarity is an important one—it led me to reflect on how well we really do express what we “struggle to find words for.” It may be argued that too much analysis spoils the poem, but this week, to focus on meaning and clarity (along with editing and refining), I’d like you to go through some of your already-written poems, select one that you especially like, and do a bit of after-the-fact analysis.

Guidelines:

1. Spend some time with the poem you’ve chosen—read it and think about it. Then answer these questions:

A. What is the meaning of the poem (that is, what did you intend to “say” in it)?

B. Did you have that meaning in mind when you started writing the poem? Did you “say” anything else?

C. Remember that some of the best poems contain their obvious subjects and one or more other subjects—what in your poem appears below “the surface of the page?”

D. How well did you convey the poem’s meaning?

E. How well did you achieve clarity in the poem?

F. Now, spend some time re-working the poem. Think in terms of meaning, clarity, and how you can “say what you want to say” better this time around.

2. Identify a phrase, sentence, or line that represents the poem’s emotional center. What have you included (and should delete) in your poem that’s really meaningless in relation to the poem’s emotional core?

3. Compare your two versions. Decide which is better and think about why. How is your better version “the meaning” you “wrestled out of the vagueness?”

Tips:

1. Be specific, avoid general terms, phrases, and statements.

2. Think about freshness of expression and how you can better express the truth of your experience in perceptible and actual terms.

3. Make sure your poem has a sense of movement and trajectory.

4. Don’t lose sight of the whole poem while editing the particular. As you prune your poems, make sure that every word, every, phrase, clause, and sentence is necessary.

5. Present your subject exactly as you perceive it. Make your poem “the meaning that was sought and found!”

Prompt #242 – What Bugs You?

A while back, I was asked to discuss my “pet poetry peeves” in an interview question. I haven’t thought about it since, but I came across the file a few days ago and thought it might be interesting to work with the idea of “peeves” for this week’s prompt.

Following is my answer to the question, “What are your pet poetry peeves and general poetry philosophy?” I hope something in it resonates for you.

Poetry “Peeves” and Poetry “Philosophy”

There’s a big difference between writing a poem and creating art. A lot of people who write poetry work from a prose impulse and a prose logic that they arrange in lines and stanzas. They may be very capable writers, but art has to be something more than competent. It’s too easy to tell a story in a format that looks like a poem.

Some people who write poetry are so interested in being poets, telling their stories, and getting applause that they (the writers) are indelibly superimposed over their poems. The poem is the thing and it needs to be free of the poet if it can ever be called art. There is definitely a finding and loss of the self in poetry writing—that sounds contradictory, but it isn’t. The poet enters the poem to learn something; once a poem is written, the poet necessarily exits; the poem shouldn’t carry the poet along with it—all that bulk and bone can cast shadows on a poem’s light. A good poem takes risks—artistic and emotional—but never through concepts and notions or simplifications. Every poem needs a strong emotional center that doesn’t smother meaning with sentiment (I think of that as sediment)—subtlety (and that doesn’t mean obscurity) is necessary for a poem to succeed.

A poem must contain an element of mystery or surprise—first to the poet and then to the reader or listener. A poet, beyond competence, has to trust his or her readers to fill in some of the blanks. Dylan Thomas wrote, “You can tear a poem apart to see what makes it tick... You’re back with the mystery of having been moved by words. The best craftsmanship always leaves holes and gaps … so that something that is not in the poem can creep, crawl, flash or thunder in.”

The best lesson a poet can learn is to write “little”—to work from the minute on the way to the large.

Now … for this week’s prompt … simply write a poem about a pet peeve—something that really irks you (and it doesn’t have to be poetry or writing related).

Guidelines:

1. Start with a list of things that annoy you.

2. Select one item for your list and write a poem about it.

3. You may choose to write about the peeve itself or how that peeve came to be something that really “bugs” you.

Tips:

1. Because this kind of poem lends itself to a good “rant,” you might try that approach.

2. You may choose to be humorous or serious.

3. Stick to specifics and don’t let emotion rule your content. Remember that this is a poem and should contain the qualities of good poetry (imagery, figures of speech, effective line breaks, sound).
 

4. Don’t close the door on your poem; leave it slightly ajar.

5. Link the end of your poem to the beginning but not overtly—and don’t over-write.

Pet Peeve Suggestions:

• People who talk with their moths full of food
• People who use poor grammar
• People who use or pronounce words incorrectly
• Screaming (noisy) children in churches, movie theaters, restaurants
• Terrible service in a restaurant
• Arrogance
• Overuse of the word like 
• Overuse of the word actually 
• Vanity
• Bigotry
• Slow drivers in the fast lanePeople who always have to get the last word 
• Loud Music
• Phoniness (insincerity)
• Liars