In a recent survey for Tweetspeak Poetry (please take our main survey if you haven’t yet; we’re listening), one reader suggested we create a place for you to ask us anything about poetry. What a great idea. (One that’s been a long time coming, as community member Maureen Doallas suggested this in the past.)
Now, we certainly don’t claim to have all the answers. But we’re happy to use our collective experience as award-winning poets and reviewers to answer your questions, or at least point you in the direction of getting your questions answered through another excellent resource.
As you can see, this is a brand new column, so we’ll be refining it as we go along and maybe altering the shape it takes. (For instance, right now we’re leaving it wide open, but perhaps we’ll focus it later on, as in “ask us anything about sonnets” or “ask us anything about poem titles.”)
Alright, the Poet is in. Ask us anything about poetry.
Photo by Michelle Ortega. Used with permission.
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About One of Our Resident Poets
Tania Runyan has served as an editor for Every Day Poems and is the author of four books of poetry, including A Thousand Vessels and Simple Weight. Her poems have appeared in many publications, including Poetry, Atlanta Review, Nimrod, and Southern Poetry Review. She received an NEA Literature fellowship in 2011.
In Tania’s latest title, from T. S. Poetry Press, she secured permission to work with the Billy Collins poem Introduction to Poetry. Enjoy her teamwork with Collins in How to Read a Poem…
- Journeys: What We Hold in Common - November 4, 2024
- Poetry Prompt: My Poem is an Oasis - August 26, 2024
- Poetry Prompt: Sink or Swim - July 15, 2024
Elizabeth Marshall says
Ah, this is gracious and so inviting.Sigh, where oh where to begin.
My question is this:
I am intrigued by the use of a poem’s title being integrated into the poem and read as its first line. Does this poetic technique have a name and do YOU use this in your own writing.
L. L. Barkat says
A name. Hmmm. That’s a question for one of those tech-y poets (I’m sure we have one of those around here somewhere, and will see about getting the answer for you).
As for using it in my own writing, yes I do. Especially in cases where:
-the poem benefits from a feeling of flow from the title on through the poem
-there is no arresting title coming to mind perhaps because of the length of the poem (short) or the way the poem focuses on a single, obvious image that it would seem silly to repeat in the title
Titles really need to do heavy lifting. Or tell us something important. They sit up there all by themselves and claim to be important, yes? So they should do something useful.
We have a great article here at Tweetspeak about poem titles. See:
https://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/2013/10/10/top-ten-poems-with-make-or-break-titles/
And always consider letting your poem go without a title. Then when you’re famous, they’ll number your poems like with Emily Dickinson or Shakespeare 😉
Elizabeth Marshall says
Thanks for your thorough and thoughtful response to my question. And to the others here. This is helpful. Another possible book title/concept for tweetspeak presses? 🙂 I have more questions, but as in life, I often learn more from listening than from speaking.
Marcus Goodyear says
Great question, Elizabeth.
I think this tradition comes from sonnet sequences and private poets.
As long ago as Shakespeare and Sir Philip Sidney, a poet would test his or her mettle by producing a sonnet sequence–a book filled only with sonnets that told a sort of story.
Sidney’s sequence Astrophil and Stella, for instance, roughly traces the emotional story of Astrophil trying to win the love of Stella. Since no poem in the sequence has an individual title, people refer to them by the first line or phrase. For example: Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174419
Other times, poets wrote for themselves without publishing their poems. Then the poems would be assembled later and publish posthumously, as happened with Emily Dickinson. None of her poems have titles either, so they are referred to by their first line or phrase: “Because I Could Not Stop for Death.”
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/177119
Other poets just failed to title their poems–often because they were writing privately without an immediate aim to publish. I think this is why many of Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poems don’t have titles. So we refer to them by their first name: “As Kingfishers Catch Fire”
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173654
Since I’m rarely publishing my poems in this season of life, most of what I write these days remains untitled. If I were to send something off for publication, I would put a title on it first.
One more interesting side note: You can sing “Because I Could Not Stop for Death” and many of Dickinson’s poems to the tune of the Yellow Rose of Texas.
Elizabeth Marshall says
I am honored by your thoughtful response. This gives me a lot to chew on 🙂
When “modern” poets use this effectively and I try to do so with some small measure of success ( even that is overstated ) :)… i find it adds interest to a poem.
Now, I am moving on to other pressing poetic questions.
Gratefully,
Elizabeth
Maureen Doallas says
I’ve heard it called “bridging title”.
I love Kooser’s take: likening it and the first few lines that follow to “the hand you extend in friendship toward your reader.”
I had to take a minute to get through my senior moment to recall there’s a book titled ‘The Art of the Poetic Line’; it’s by James Longenbach, part of the wonderful ‘The Art of…” series by Graywolf. Well worth getting (along with the others in the series).
The title used as poem’s first line also is discussed in several places in the book I mention to Darlene below, ‘Poem Central’. That book discusses it as “the gateway” to a poem, and goes on to relate other purposes of titles: telling you what the poem is (e.g., ode to…), providing background info, piquing curiosity, give details that fit no place in the poem but serve a purpose, locate the poem in time or place, etc.
I think it’s interesting to think about all the artworks we see that are titled “Untitled” and how people react to the lack of information.
Elizabeth Marshall says
Darlene, you, my artist friend frame this with beautiful clarity and eloquence. And HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you. Hope you get the hoola hoop.
Elizabeth Marshall says
Maureen, this is wonderful information. Is this perhaps the new workshop format for poets in 2015? 🙂 so much lively discussion, great speakers and resources to investigate. Makes me want to read about poetry and ummmm go build a poem.
Sandra Wirfel says
In my poetry I am often collecting titles, for future poems, So far this year I have 18 completed poems but I have a folder with 45 future titles. I find titles very important for me, it was hard writing the haiku becuase none of them were titled, just categorized by subject. The same happens when I am writing a children’s story I start with the title and sometimes it has to brew for a long time before the story actually gets written. I have been quilty a cople time titling a poem “Untitled” my 22 year old daughter never titles any of her poems, but she is also a huge Emily Dickinson fan.
Donna says
Great question Elizabeth. I am always thinking about titles… so many choices and directions, but it’s hard to find just the best use of such a few words…
I’ve recently seen the title used as the last line… which is hard to describe, but I’ll try. When the last line ends seems to be left off… blank… (maybe with a dash – or a … ), dangling in thin air visually, my thoughts automatically go back to the title and I fill in the blank with it… and so it creates a sort of circular ‘motion’ in the language. Very clever.
Elizabeth Marshall says
Donna, intriguing. And very clever.
Simply Darlene says
Oh, the excitement! Will the answers be posted down here in the comments or will there be another piece with Q&A?
Here’s mine:
As a journalism student many years ago, I’d asked my then instructor/advisor to critique some poetry I’d written. After reading it he said, “This free-form poetry is like playing tennis without a net.” He went on to say that I must choose a form and stick to its orderly confines. A couple days later he lent me one of his personal collection poetry books – which by the way, I never returned and read often enough that the cover’s coming off.
What say you on free form vs. format? Which came first? Who’s your favorite free form (is that even the right term?) poet?
I play pingpong without a net – I wonder what that says about me? <– that's a rhetorical question, the expert need not try to answer 😉
Monica Sharman says
Have you ever played blow-pong? That game requires that you remove the net. 😉
Simply Darlene says
No, I’ve never even heard of the game – sounds fun though!
L. L. Barkat says
Monica’s reply is amusing and true. Games have rules, even if they seem like they don’t.
Excellent free form poems have structure, even if they feel like they don’t. (Unfortunately, many poor free form poems have no rules at all, except maybe to pour the heart out on the page in broken lines).
As for which came first, that’s an interesting argument I’m sure others could come and have here quite nicely, but I’ll say this: the best free form poems feel natural like speech and contain its best elements. Remember the free form poems in The Mischief Café that we took from regular old Facebook comments? You and Sandra and Karen and Matthew and Laura were speaking poetry when no one was looking (not even you). Someone came along and gave it space to show off its attributes, and voila.
Okay, so speech came first. So it can be fun to make poems from the amazing things people say without knowing they’re speaking poetry. I have a good handful of poems in Love, Etc. that were actually stolen from speech.
Form was a great way to impose memory on language. The brain loves a good rhyme, or any other good game. So storytellers responsible for keeping track of history would impose these games onto language and…others played along and did the favor of remembering.
It could be fun for you to research early poetry, especially in other language traditions, to see just what kind of games they played with words. Some of the Nordic (I think) groups used alliteration more than rhyme. Games, games, games. Tennis with words. Or ping pong.
Choose your game?
And here’s another good exercise you might like to try: find *your* favorite (so far) free form poet and see if you can find the little games their poetry seems to be playing. No need to put formal (no pun intended! 🙂 ) words on it. Just try to describe the game in your own words.
Favorite free form poet. Might be Adrienne Rich. And I’m becoming quite partial to Dave Malone (who has a title upcoming with T. S. Poetry Press by Valentine’s Day! 🙂 ) I’d be inclined to ask Maureen this last question. A fount of poet knowledge!
Simply Darlene says
L.L. –
Yes, yes, the free form poems in The Mishcief Cafe – how can I not remember my first published poem?!
Alliteration and rhyming and games… some years ago when I dabbled in writing song lyrics, and was too poor to buy books but had cassette tapes and song inserts aplenty, I studied the songs by counting syllables per line, noting where rhyme was used, and jotting down the singer’s emphasis. I reckon it’s much the same I’d do with the study of free verse poetry.
Thanks.
L. L. Barkat says
I love that. And for some reason I am now picturing you making little maps of your favorite poems, form or not. 🙂
Sandra Wirfel says
It is important to me to discipline myself and pick a style of poetry and a certain number of poems to complete for the year. The good thing is if oter sytles of poms are trying to escape me I don’t stop them. In 2007 I did a haiku a day and I ended up with over 400, in 2008 I wanted 12 Sonnets, I ended up with 6, in 2009 I wanted one good Ode, I ended up with one really good Ode and two mediocre ones, in 2010 and 2011 it was free verse because I had just returned to full time work. In 2012 I decided to complete all the ones of various styles that were works in progress, in 2013 I took a break to work on my Children’s picture book, which was published in May of 2013 called “The Happy Cow” and 2014 saw 398 Stack Poems. I enjoyed the Stack Poems so much that by the end of 2015 I hope to have a toltal of 1000, which would include the 398 from 2014. Goals work for me. I do want to try my hand at other styles.
Maureen Doallas says
Darlene,
I take your “free form” to mean “free verse” or “vera libre” (not to be confused with “free meter”, meter being the rhythmic pattern), which, at its simplest, may be defined as a type of non-metrical writing.
There are scores and scores of forms, and new ones are being created all the time. I encourage taking up a form and exposing yourself to its discipline; you can learn a lot from how a form works, how it requires structure or rhyme or meter. I’ve done this often.
The best free verse is not without cadence – how a poem moves, as LL notes, as if spoken.
Edward Hirsh’s “A Poet’s Glossary”, which took him something like 15 years to put together, is an excellent resource.
Simply Darlene says
Maureen,
Over the years you’ve influenced me in regard to free verse. I read your poetry, silent and aloud. And until you and L.L. said it here today, I’d not made the connection about how free verse reflects the spoken. Your words just work – and now I have a better understanding as to the why.
Interesting!
Oh, wow, the next time my husband calls from the bookstore, I’ll have a few titles to give him – as long as I can access this piece. 🙂
Thank you.
Maureen Doallas says
Darlene, you might enjoy Shirley McPhillips’s ‘Poem Central: Word Journey with Readers and Writers’. I won it. It covers all kinds of poetry-related stuff.
Elizabeth Marshall says
Thanks Maureen for your excellent resources.
Richard Maxson says
I’m trusting amateur opinions and experience are OK here as well. 🙂
Darlene, your professor was using a quote from Robert Frost concerning free form poetry. Another poet, I think John Crowe Ransom, likened formal poetry to the way fishermen use different nets to catch specific fish — fine nets for small fish and nets with larger openings for larger fish. Ever since I learned this I adjusted my thinking regarding using forms to write poetry. I used to think of form as something somewhat arbitrary or perhaps a puzzle (and I think some are just that a language challenge), but I started noticing how different forms forced me to access different words in my head or think about something in a different way, which seemed to match up with Ransom’s view of form. Personally I prefer poems that more resemble speech, if even slightly different than people actually talk.
L. L. Barkat says
Totally love the fish and net image. Yes!
For instance, I think sestinas are the perfect net for troubled emotions or ruminations. 🙂
You have deep knowledge about poetry. Much to add. Yes, please share your opinions and experience.
Simply Darlene says
Richard –
Ah, good to know where the saying originated! And thank you for the additional explanation.
Do you think that the more poetry one writes/reads, the more their other writing (short stories, essays, memoirs, even) resembles and/or contains elements of poetry? I’ve found this to be true in my own work – at least it seems that way to me. I find rhyme and cadence where there used to be none.
Rick Maxson says
Darlene, I haven’t been back here for quite a while. Regarding your question about poetry and other forms of writing, I somewhat agree with something I read that Richard Brautigan said, I’m paraphrasing, you can’t write a good novel or short story until you learn to write a good poem. Personally, I think he wrote better novels than poetry. So I’m not sure his theory holds up exactly. What I can say about writing poetry and other writing I do is that poetry helps sharpen my thinking about a subject that I might expand in prose. For example, choosing just the right word or phrasing in poetry makes me explore what a person, place or object does, or what is done to it. Doing this I become acquainted with the essence of what I am writing about.
In writing a novel or story with characters, it helps to make up a life for characters in all the “character-istics” that make them who they are in fine detail. Then when that character is involved in the story they act and respond with depth. Acting is exactly like this as well.
Poetry is a laser. It’s like when I was a boy and used to take a magnifying glass and shine the sunlight that was covering thousands of miles as it shone and warming, but not burning us (not too bad) and focus it into a narrow beam hot enough to catch leaves on fire.
What amazes me about poetry, after all this explanation, is how some poems come to me in a flash of inspiration. I don’t know how this happens. It happens to other poets as well. Sylvia Plath wrote Ariel at the rate of one to two poems a day at times. Now I’m rambling. I hope I answered at least some of your question.
Tania Runyan says
I believe the ones who are “playing” free-verse without a net are, perhaps, not doing it so well!
I would suggest reading a free-verse poet who is excellent–meaning, quite intentional–with form. Anne Sexton comes to mind.And Sylvia Plath. No arbitrary, lazy line breaks here.
May I say this? I often feel that writing a poem in form is “easier” than writing one in free-verse.A couple months ago, I wrote a sonnet, the first I had written in a long time. Decisions about line breaks and meter had already been made! Ahhhh.
Bethany Rohde says
That is fascinating, Tania!
Simply Darlene says
Oh boy, there’s so much more to the answer than I’d anticipated!
Most of the time (unless the poem is in a specific collection), I don’t know what form I’m reading. And I think that’s okay, right? But I do recognize when something feels forced or fake or too-tried.
Thank you for the insight and additional poets. This discussion slides nice into Laura Brown’s question about line breaks. So many nuances.
Thanks.
Laura Brown says
How do poets know where to break the line? Are some of mine as bad as I think they are? Will the question of where to break the line ever not mystify me? (All sort of one question.)
Is prose poetry poetry?
Why do some people who hear some of the things I’ve read at open mikes tell me, “I loved that poem you read” when it wasn’t, as far as I knew, a poem?
No doubt (or, as Tania says, no donut) I’ll have more. Questions.
L. L. Barkat says
I recently re-released InsideOut due to line learning. Poets are always learning, hopefully. Always asking themselves (and poetry itself) more questions.
Julia Kasdorf was the one who gave me great line break advice by cautioning that in (most) cases you don’t want to end a line with an article (a, the), but should rather end the line with a word that would help you if you read down the *right-hand side* of the poem… help you feel you were reading something meaningful.
Besides that, breaking where there should be breath, or maybe where you want to choke breath (an unexpected break might do this) can be useful. We have a book review here that showcases an awesome title whose whole discussion is simply “the line.”
https://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/2012/02/17/the-hearing-of-the-sea-thoughts-on-a-broken-thing/
Do you think prose poetry is poetry? Why or why not? (Anne Overstreet’s “Resolutions” comes to mind: https://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/2013/01/01/new-years-poem-resolutions/
Why do you suppose people do that at open mics? Or a better question to start, why did you not experience the poem as a poem?
Maureen Doallas says
Yep!
Laura Brown says
I think prose poetry is prose poetry. Poetry, as you say. A hybrid, as Maureen says. I am nuts about prose poetry (Louis Jenkins and James Tate especially, and I think some of Lydia Davis’s unclassifiable work could be classified as prose poems) and hope my interest in writing them isn’t just a way to avoid line breaks.
I think each sounded like a poem to them. One of those them could be called a poem. A list poem. It was mostly sentence fragments. It was about people walking, and I ambled as I read it, resting a beat between lines, so it probably sounded more like a poem. The other was not a poem, but it was … minimalistically lyrical? Come to think of it, only a couple of folks referred to it as a poem. Maybe it’s a prose poem.
Sandra Wirfel says
L.L. I love your response “Why not experience the poem as a poem.” My 18 year old daughter is doing poetry in her Honors Language class, and she is upset because they are analyzing poems, she told her teacher “Poetry should be read for poetry’s sake not for trying to figure out what the poet was saying, just ask my Mom.” Of course the teacher thought she was being sassy.
Maureen Doallas says
For me, breaking a line has to do with cadence, how the line moves. It is for me mostly intuitive, not something I set out to create. It happens (for me) in the natural course of writing a poem.
Really good line breaks enhance, expand, open up a poem’s meaning and interpretation.
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Yes, prose poetry is poetry, and its use seems to be increasing. It’s hybrid. I think it succeeds best when the writer understands how to facilitate knowledge of how to write poetry, that is, employ cadence, etc. Hirsch defines it as “[a] composition printed as prose that names itself poetry….” But then goes on for a good quarter-page with additional information.
Claudia Rankine’s most recent collection “Citizen”, which I think is profoundly moving, is a type of prose poetry; she refers to her entries as “script”; and her writing, if you’ve seen its incorporation into video, lends itself beautifully to the videopoem approach. She’s a marvelous reader of her own work.
Will Willingham says
Caught me there, Maureen; I thought that “but then goes on for a good quarter-page with additional information” was part of Hirsch’s definition, not a description of it. 😉
I just read ‘Citizen’ the other night. Very powerful pieces. For some reason I was not expecting the form as it was, but found it very effective.
Sandra Wirfel says
I agree Maureen that line breaks have to deal with the cadence.
Tania Runyan says
I rarely “think” too consciously about where I break a line, but I believe my subconscious directs me to break at words that leave some question, double meaning or suspense. It’s hard to explain, but while I don’t set out to formalize breaking lines, I obsess over the process, reading and re-reading lines over and over and over until the breaks are right. I totally agree about Kasdorf’s comment about breaking on an article. Ditto on prepositions for the most part. Line breaks are a joy to consider–another benefit of free verse!
Laura Brown says
That makes sense, that the work of deciding, considering, might come more in revision. I think that’s what you’re saying.
Will Willingham says
Another amateur voice here 🙂 but for me it’s more often accidental than anything else. I wish I had a better science for it, but it’s something that I often don’t see even after it’s been done, and someone points it out to me.
I do try to follow the “Kasdorf via Barkat” guidance for breaks, though.
Laura Brown says
Thanks for speaking up, LW! It’s actually kind of comforting to know it’s mystifying for others too.
intuitively would use a strong word at the end of a line, noun or verb or adjective, and I bet some of that instinct comes from the rules of headline writing. We wouldn’t break a line at an article there either.
Bethany R. says
I am ecstatic about this post. Thank you for opening up this space for questions!
I have been wondering about numbering stanzas in contemporary poetry. I love the effect it makes when done well, like in L.L. Barkat’s poem, “Mulberries.” I’ve tried to look for resources or advice on how or when to use this technique (or when not to!) and haven’t found much.
I also wonder about breaking a little bit longer poem (say 2 pages) into numbered parts or “acts,” in a way. What do you guys think? Thank you so much for your time!
Tania Runyan says
Hi Bethany! I use numbered stanzas once in awhile, and I believe the best way to describe them is “in-betweeners.” These stanzas need one another to survive but can also stand on their own in context of their companions. In other words, they are connected like jewels in a necklace but also sparkle on their own quite beautifully.
Bethany Rohde says
Hi Tania! Thank you for the beautiful clarification.
Sandra Wirfel says
Tania, what beautiful imagery “connected like jewels in a necklace” I have never tried numbering my lines, something new to try.
Tania Runyan says
Bethany, that is s tough question. For me, a sentimental poem tries to force the emotion on me–tell me what to feel, I suppose, rather than lead me into sensory language that invites its own emotional response. Think of a greeting card: it must get an emotion across in a direct, brief manner while staying quite general in order to appeal to many readers. There is nothing wrong with that given a card’s purpose, of course, but how many greeting card verses do any of us remember? We remember what we feel, not what we are told to feel.
Tania Runyan says
Oh, thank you, Sandra!
Tania Runyan says
Oops, that comment to Bethany went in the wrong place. You’d think I never commented on a blog before! :/
L. L. Barkat says
I tend to use a numbering approach for two specific reasons:
-to indicate that the stanzas are, in their way, separate poems that are part of the whole
-to assist in a sense of passage-of-time
That may or may not have been effective. I turn it back to you. Choose a few poems that use “numbering” and tell us what the effect is on you the reader 🙂
Maybe we need Karen Swallow Prior or Angela Alaimo O’Donnell to come by and discuss the “Acts” question. Just a hunch that they’d have something good to say.
Bethany Rohde says
Ah! “To assist in a sense of passage-of-time,” is one I had not considered. Thank you for the insight here. I think that does come across in “Mulberries,” when I read it. Especially in the second stanza.
Will Willingham says
Creating time and space is one of my favorite ways that this is used. I’ve never quite figured out how to do it myself, but when I see it done well (Mulberries is such a wonderful example of that), I really love it.
Maureen Doallas says
Stanza breaks usually fall into some kind of arrangement; they don’t exactly just happen. The structure imbues pattern and meaning, helps propel the poem and its theme, while also creating a visual impression.
Sometimes, lines of stanzas are all the same length, sometimes couplets, tercets, quatrains, etc. Technically, depending on choice of type of stanza, it’s going to follow its own set of rules. I like to write in couplets and to break lines between stanzas but I’ll go to a different type of stanza form where I think the subject or what I want to convey demands it.
I sometimes number stanzas but would say I mostly do not. And I don’t number while drafting. The poem dictates the final form for me.
Bethany Rohde says
Yes, that is such a good point, Maureen. Thank you for your input here. I never start out numbering either. I create, and then try to lay it out several different ways to see which communicates the song of the poem best.
You guys are such a wonderful help!
Richard Maxson says
My question: Why complicate poetry?
To someone highly educated in poetry this would probably seem a naive question, but it has haunted me for years. When I first started to read poetry, almost all of it was difficult to grasp. Eventually, those became less so difficult and, thus, enjoyable. However, some poetry, though I read and re-read, does nothing for me. Even some prize winning poetry is more akin to sentence diagramming than art that is suppose to present the world to us in a unique way (maybe too unique?). Part of me, who wants to be a good poet and learn, thinks I should persist until these poems become clear; the other part of me thinks this is not right — poetry meant for erudite poets only. Am I missing the key to understanding these poems? A few are Wallace Stevens (although there is always something visceral about his poems), Jorie Graham, Brenda Hillman and similar poets (you can find a lot of this in Best American Poets each year). I’m interested in hearing from others here on this.
Bethany Rohde says
I love your question, Richard. Everyone’s taste in poetry is so different, but this is just one reason that I love Ted Kooser. In his poetry manuals he talks a lot about how he, personally, tries to include the reader as long and as often as possible. He isn’t trying to write just for editors or prizes (although he did win the Pulitzer and become the U.S. Poet Laureate anyway) but for the people.
Maureen Doallas says
Not naive, Richard. And no, you’re not missing the key.
I happen to be of the mindset that there is nothing wrong with abandoning a poem one can’t seem to “get”. I do it all the time, and I read a huge amount of poetry. Poetry comes from such an wonderful place of oral tradition. I love a challenge but I also think there aren’t enough hours in the day to give to writers who can’t be understood. The mark of a successful poem is to be understood.
There are so many, many fine poets, so many waiting to be “discovered” by new readers. I’m a proponent of using the Net to find poets’ work and reading a bit online before purchasing books. There are plenty of poetry sites and online poetry mags for this purpose. Take what one will from a poem and go on to another, and if one leaves you cold, so be it. We all have different tastes and different readers and the world can handle both the well-understood and the not-so-understandable.
L. L. Barkat says
I love what Maureen said to this. Also, I’ve come to recognize that some people really enjoy the “puzzle” of language. They’re playing a different kind of game in their poems than the poems I might like best.
I also think that one might appreciate different poems at different stages of poetry-familiarity and also different seasons of life. Just like with fiction. Or just like with programming (right now, I am a beginning programmer, and I can’t deal with the more intricate aspects of code, but I expect that someday I will *want* more complexity, you know?)
Your question does feel related to the question below, though, of “what is a bad poem.” I think bad poems exist in the world. I have written some of them.
Simply Darlene says
We’re built different, thus our appreciation and/or understanding should be different too – not just of poetry, but of art across the board. Right?
Elizabeth Marshall says
Darlene, you, my artist friend frame this with beautiful clarity and eloquence. And HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you. Hope you get the hoola hoop.
Simply Darlene says
thank you Elizabeth.
Sandra Wirfel says
Darlene, I agree, poetry shouldn’t be made complicated, that’s why students in school say “Yuck poetry” because they have been forced to analyze it instead of just being able to enjoy it.
All of my children were exposed to poetry early on with me reading it outloud just as I would have a storybook, and all five appreciate poetry in a variety of forms. My only son who is going to be 21 said people appreciate music, and music is poetry, art is music and poetry is art.
Kate says
What makes a bad poem bad? How do you distinguish between a good poem and a bad poem? Maybe you could take a theme–say, “persistence” or “anxiety” and write a well-done poem about it and then an intentionally bad poem about it, so we can really see the difference. Thanks!
L. L. Barkat says
Here is exactly that exercise. The poem is bad and I tell you why:
http://www.curatormagazine.com/llbarkat/good-art-born-inside-or-out/
There are many things that make bad poems:
-cliche language
-overstating emotions (I call this the “breathless” poem)
-lack of imagery (taste, touch, sound, etc.)
-going on too long
-lack of economy of language
-never “getting there” with a deeper insight
-a let-down ending that either fizzles or tries too hard to make some breathless point
To this, I agree that form poetry is a good discipline. It takes some of the guess work out and lets you concentrate on particulars of imagery or language expression.
I also highly recommend a daily poetry reading of established poets and making Jealous Poem Stacks… https://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/2014/05/01/write-poem-jealousy-poem-stacks/
Maureen Doallas says
Google this. There are some funny answers to the question. And the results number 38,300,000.
Sara Barkat says
A poem is bad when it has an overblown opinion of itself; when it’s something that would sound almost exactly like a normal paragraph if you took it out of line form; when it has too much repetition that continues until it is tedious and doesn’t satisfyingly wrap itself up at the end; when it uses boring words; when it doesn’t have a purpose; when it has an agenda but nothing else; when it’s written awkwardly so that reading it out-loud causes the tongue to stumble; when it has no originality; when it doesn’t create an image; when it seems duller than the real world instead of more intense.
Elizabeth Marshall says
Sara, this may likely be the new standard for what defines what makes a poem.
Sandra Wirfel says
Sara,
What an excellent definition.
Maureen Doallas says
Apply a variation to that old saw about porn, Kate: You know it when you read it.
And it is possible to write an intentionally awful poem; I know, because I did that once as part of an assignment in college. Needless to say, there is no trace of that poem anywhere.
Maureen Doallas says
It’s also possible to write a very good poem about writing a lousy one (but don’t ask me to do that).
More seriously, though: Consider cliched imagery, poor line breaks, dumb puns or misuse of language, poor imitations of well-established poets’ style.
Judgments about translations are more difficult, unless you have the original language and are fluent in its use. Still, there are poets known to excel at translation, and I seek those out when I’m thinking of read a poet in English.
Charity Singleton Craig says
What is the definition of a poem? What makes something that’s not a poem poetic?
Love this idea, by the way!
L. L. Barkat says
Any thoughts on this? Do you think it can be defined? Could it be come at from the opposite direction? (ie, “this here is not a poem, and here’s why)
Maureen Doallas says
Hirsch’s definition: “A made thing, a verbal construct, an event in language… made out of sounds and, usually words….” Later, he notes, “The true poem has been crafted into a living entity. There is always something mysterious, something inexplicable in a poem. . . A poem creates an experience in the reader that cannot be reduced to anything else….”
Maureen Doallas says
There are any number of prose writers who write lyrically. One is Rebecca Solnit. L.L. is one. Dianne Ackerman, also a poet, is another.
Richard Maxson says
If I may add to Maureen’s answer “something mysterious” a line from Wallace Stevens’s poem “Man Carrying Thing.” He states in the first stanza:
“The poem must resist the intelligence
Almost successfully…”
For me what makes a difficult poem, a poem and worth pursuing is the operative word “almost” above. There’s gold dust in the earth of a poem before you reach the nuggets you know must be there. The “almost” in a poem very often physically and.or emotionally acts on me, even if I do not fully understand it.
One of my favorite parts of a poem I read last year was from Tracy K. Smith’s “The Largeness We Cannot See.” I think it very much applies to poetry itself, especially those poems that we only partially understand in the beginning:
“All that we see grows
into the ground. And all that we live blind to
Leans its deathless heft to our ears
and sings.”
Laura Brown says
Marianne Moore says
http://m.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/poetry
L. L. Barkat says
Was there something in her words that particularly resonated with you, Laura?
Laura Brown says
I love how you are answering so many of our questions with questions.
First, I think it’s funny — and disarming a little bit in the way that Billy Collins is disarming in his poem about poems — for her to say, to BEGIN with, “I, too, dislike it.” I think today she’d wink at Tania Runyan with the next lines, “there are things that are important beyond / all this fiddle.”
I was young, 20 or so, when I first encountered this, and it amazed me that she’d start that way, with an admission, then go on to wrestle with it. It’s a good example of that phenomenon of dismissing something and then taking it (and oneself) seriously enough to look at it and verbalize what she sees and move beyond that “dislike.”
Quotations within a poem! That’s interesting too. She is, in a way, participating in and staking her ground in the long conversation of “What is poetry?” by quoting and arguing with Tolstoy and Yeats … and that gardens and toads quotation, which no one can find a source for so she probably made it up herself and then quoted herself.
Also interesting that this must have been itchy for her — she must not have been satisfied, or must have changed her mind over the years — because she kept revising it. (Former poet laureate Robert Pinsky wrote about that for Slate: http://www.slate.com/articles/arts/poem/2009/06/marianne_moores_poetry.html)
Even before I studied it enough to know all that, though, I was intrigued by that opening confession/dismissal; I like Moore in general for her precision in diction; and I like what’s going on in the last sentence:
“In the meantime, if you demand on the one hand,
the raw material of poetry in
all its rawness and
that which is on the other hand
genuine, you are interested in poetry.”
It’s like saying, “Forget the centuries-old conversation. Right now, if you value this and this, can I tell you a secret? You do not dislike poetry.”
Moore can be hard to read — she takes work — but the work of reading this one mirrors the thinking work she goes through in writing it. Avoidance-approach.
Laura Brown says
All that said, I was simply offering it because poets try to define it, too, and this poem always comes to my mind when this question comes up.
Elizabeth Marshall says
As I follow this rich and invigorating discussion, I am reminded of the power and influence of poetry.
Our Poet Laureate Marjory Wenworth penned a beautiful inaugural poem entitled ‘One River, One Boat’which our governor has decided she does not have time to read at the inauguration.This, a break with tradition.The poem is powerful and quite beautiful and would take less than 2 minutes to read. It is on my fb page, or the link. It deserves an audience. Perhaps you’d like to read it, enjoy her gift and consider sharing it.
Maureen Doallas says
Wentworth’s post about this is in my FB stream. A lot of people are speaking up for her, including the state poetry society, which heartens me. The reasoning is absurd.
Elizabeth Marshall says
Maureen you are steadfast and tireless in your support. Thank you thank you. Marjory personally supported my deep desire to explore poetry. Her poem will be heard and read and savored on its merit. Thank you.
Richard Maxson says
I think this discussion is so needed and so unique among poetry sites. It is both expository and positive. I am so happy to have found this group of people dedicated to promoting poetry as something to be engaged with and not feared or dismissed as esoteric.
Elizabeth Marshall says
Richard, yes, yes, amen, ditto. We are fortunate indeed.
L. L. Barkat says
This makes *me happy*, Richard.
I feel that the trick is to somehow encourage learning and reaching while not scaring people away. Some poetry sites simply decide not to engage in any learning and reaching (sorry, I call those “rah-rah” sites 😉 ) and other sites make acquired learning a point of exclusion (if you haven’t already learned and reached to some predetermined (but ambiguous) plane, then you’re disinvited from the conversation).
I’ve always wished for Tweetspeak to be that middle place. Where we can be both honest and kind about what makes good poems and bad poems and where we can each be challenged to reach, regardless or our current level of poetry familiarity or accomplishment.
Elizabeth Marshall says
What a poet-friendly and ‘compassionate’ goal. Unique and embracing, L.L.
Bethany Rohde says
Yes! This is exactly what I crave: that rare “middle place.” I’m grateful for your responsiveness and willingness to open up the Q&A here.
I do have questions, and as I’ve been out of college for quite awhile, there is no professor to ask. 😉 I just go to my books or the net to research them. But often, I can’t find specific enough information or more than one opinion. Truly, thanks again.
Simply Darlene says
A person could create their own study guide based on the Q&As from this piece. There’s so much to learn and so many poets/collections to read.
As comments are on a rapid decline everywhere else in the interwebs, it’s quite nice to have community engaged in thoughtful discussion and sharing. Thank ye one and all. 😉
Marcy Terwilliger says
Mine is easy and I’m glad this is being offered. There are poems written with no comma’s no periods. Just a straight poem with nothing. Then when I write I think comma, then period. Next line do the same, over and over do the same again. Can’t I stay on the same subject with the comma and still go on with the subject and then end with a period.
Maureen Doallas says
The simple answer is, of course.
Poets experiment just as other artists do, and use or nonuse of punctuation may be just the poet’s particular style (think e e cummings).
Whether to use punctuation or not mostly is a deliberate decision, I think, depending on the subject and the meaning and emotion the poet wants to convey. Just as visual presentation can be used to reveal meaning or emotion, so can punctuation, which also may be just how the poet is hearing the words in his or her own head. Placement, spacing, running words together, using pause marks, etc., create the effects you feel, shape the poem in the reader’s mind. Reading a poem aloud can be helpful if you’re trying to decide whether or where to use punctuation (assuming you want punctuation of some kind).
Some poems are a single sentence long, may or may not use pause marks, and end (or not) with a period.
(An aside: One beef I have is when a poem is centered, when centering is not used by the poet. Centering can destroy all the meaning the poet intends to convey, especially through line endings.)
Marcy Terwilliger says
Thank you Maureen,
I will be writing this all down, I’ve wondered about this for a long time but never had a place to ask. You have been most helpful. Poetry is beautiful and you want to share it in the right form. This has really helped.
Donna says
Marcy, I’m really glad you asked this. I think about it every time I write a poem – should I capitalize, punctuate, etc.?
Maureen thank you for addressing it… and I agree about the shape of a poem, too. Only the poet can decide the shape of the poem – the centering or the left/right justified… or back and forth. To me shape is a big part of the piece and quite intentional. I’ve been known to holler at my screen when blogger messes with my shape – really I get a little to caught up, but it’s such a personal affront – to see my shape all moved around. Yes, decaf might also be helpful. 😉
Sandra Wirfel says
Excellent question, it is so good to see Maureens answer. Also the information about centering so beneficial, thank you Maureen for your responses.
Peter Parsons says
I feel an undeniable pull to write. I would love to learn write poetry….
Where do I start?
Maureen Doallas says
Peter, welcome to our place!
At the top, just below the banner, you’ll see the heading ‘Fine Living’ Tools. Mouse over that and you’ll discover so many wonderful posts here, and throughout TweetSpeak. Consider signing up for one of our writing workshops, or check out your local community’s offerings (libraries often provide areas for poets or other groups to meet, for example). Meet like minds at poetry readings. Start your own poetry reading and writing group. Read, read, read. If you find a poet you “speaks” to you, try writing out some of that poet’s lines; that practice can be revealing. Notice, for example, word choice (especially for sound and images), line endings, punctuation, visual presentation. Get a notebook and write down what you observe, hear, see, dream. Feed your curiosity. Try to put any of that into a poem. Just write, not being concerned with getting form “right”.
Most of all, have fun! Poetry reading and writing are so much more than academic exercises, as we try to show here. We have Twitter poetry jams (do join us), use art to inspire our words (ekphrastic poetry), create poem stacks (lists of word we find in other books), use prompts (they change monthly).
Hope some of these suggestions are helpful.
Elizabeth Marshall says
Peter, well welcome. So glad you are here. Please continue to look around and ask questions and just make yourself at home.
Maureen’s words are always wise and filled with good stuff 🙂
We are so glad you are here.
See you soon.
Stumbling around in search of poetry too 🙂
Donna says
Peter! Welcome! So nice to have you join us here at Tweetspeak… I’d also love to tell you about The Mischief Cafe… Here is the link: https://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/mischief-cafe/ You’ll be able to see at a glance what is happening each month here at Tweetspeak… 🙂
And, enjoy a warm cup of wordcandy… 🙂 https://www.facebook.com/WordCandy.me/photos/a.485356508156927.125896.358449060847673/520700771289167/?type=1&permPage=1
Mark Jones Jr. says
I don’t know if this question was asked already, but what makes a written piece a poem? What characteristic?
Note I am not looking for a “if it’s a poem, then it ___”. Instead, I’m looking for “if ____, then poem.”
Maureen Doallas says
Mark, see the responses for Charity’s question.
L. L. Barkat says
Mark, I think the answer to “what is a bad poem” is also possibly helpful, coming at it the other way ’round. So, we see that Sara said a bad poem…
—has an overblown opinion of itself
—sound[s] almost exactly like a normal paragraph if you took it out of line form
—has too much repetition that continues until it is tedious
—doesn’t satisfyingly wrap itself up at the end
—uses boring words
—doesn’t have a purpose
—has an agenda but nothing else
—[is] written awkwardly so that reading it out-loud causes the tongue to stumble
—has no originality
—doesn’t create an image
—seems duller than the real world instead of more intense
From here, we could potentially conclude…
If fascinated with the world, then poem.
If interesting language construction, then poem.
If attendant to detail and not lazy in form, then poem.
If leads to insight or “aha” feeling, then poem.
If arresting language, then poem.
If directed, then poem.
If experience instead of preaching, then poem.
If fluid in speech, then poem.
If flips perspective, then poem.
If sensory, then poem.
If concentration of experience, then poem.
Do all poems need all these attributes? Can a poem get away with less? Or do poems maybe need additional attributes? That’s a question we could work through maybe by choosing some excellent poems and going through them looking for their qualities.
What is a poem to you? And, do you have any favorite poems you might like to discuss, that begin to further address this question?
L. L. Barkat says
Oooo. I’m also reading Jane Hirshfield this morning (the book ‘Nine Gates’) and am loving this explanation of poetry, which centers on the idea of “concentration”:
“The forms concentration can take when placed into the words of poems are probably infinite. Still, six emerge as central energies through which poetry moves forward into the world it creates—the concentrations of music, rhetoric, image, emotion, story, and voice. Not all work at the same level, and in any particular poem each will always coexist with at least some of the others; yet each can at times stand at the core of a poem’s speaking.”
This pretty much explains how we acquire poems for our daily poetry subscription, Every Day Poems, as well. If poems lack these attributes, we lack interest in publishing them 😉
Bob D. says
Ted Kooser, in his book Delights & Shadows, repeatedly uses a descriptive technique structured as “the ___(adjective)___ ___(noun)___ of ___(noun)___” As in “the frozen hive of night” or “the white moth of timelessness” or “the old dog of inertia.” The prepositional phrase is the subject of the preceding description. This is not, strictly speaking, a metaphor, but seems to function in a similar way. I was wondering if there is a name for this specific device and would it actually be considered as a metaphor. Any response would be appreciated as I will be including the subject in a paper I need to write.
Maureen Doallas says
Bob,
Also possibly “parallelism”? (The word means “side by side”.) That uses syntactic and rhythmic repetition to create some kind of relationship between words to produce new perceptions of the images.
Bob D. says
After looking up examples of parallelism, I’m not sure that’s it, either. Kooser does set the two terms up for comparison by using the preposition “of,” but it seems to connect the two rather than act as a form of repetition.
Maureen Doallas says
Bob, I wrote to Ted Kooser. I’ll let you know if he responds.
Bob D. says
Wow. Thanks so much. I considered trying to look up his contact info but was a bit too intimidated to go through with it.
Maureen Doallas says
Bob, see the last comment at the very end of all the comments. Ted Kooser is quite approachable. My feeling has always been, you have to ask to get an answer. You might not like his answer, but I can assure you, it comes directly from him. ~ Maureen
Elizabeth Marshall says
Maureen, you are my poetic hero. You mentor many. What a joy to know you. This thread could be an outline for a longer piece. At the least this would be a great ongoing column.drdsdddsss
Tania Runyan says
Laura Brown, I love that Marge Piercy poem! Thank you for posting it!
Marcus Goodyear says
Bob D. that is an interesting question. I’ll do some digging in my Handbook for Literary Criticism and see if I can find anything this afternoon.
Bob D. says
Thanks for giving that a look. So far, in my searches, I haven’t found anything that describes this device.
Marcus Goodyear says
Bob, I misremembered the name of the book. It is the Handbook to Literature, not literary criticism. Good reference.
I’m going to say the closest thing to what you are seeing is the metaphysical conceit. That is surely not the answer you were looking for, but it’s the best I have to offer. Historically, metaphysical conceits were really long, like Donne’s The Flea. But they don’t have to be.
They went through a period of being out of fashion, but have come back in the work of Allen Tate, a generation or so before Kooser.
You probably already know this. But just to be thorough: A metaphysical conceit is an analogy that is often startling, paradoxical, or highly intellectual. They often exploit “verbal logic to the point of the grotesque.” In this sense, you could think of “the frozen hive of night” as an analogy between bees and time, although to state it that way destroys the beauty of it.
You could also say that some of these examples you’ve given qualify as something like personification. The old dog of inertia, is more dogification than personification, but you get the idea. They tend to give animate attributes to inanimate abstractions. I think there is a more specific word for this rhetorical device that is broader than personification, but it is slipping my mind right now.
As for the actual syntactical pattern, I’m not sure if it is a specific rhetorical device or simply a common element of Kooser’s style.
Interesting question!
Bob D. says
Thanks so much for that thorough and thoughtful reply.
Certainly Kooser is using it as personification in some instances as in “the warm, wet breath of apples” and “a storm that walked on legs of lightening”. Then there’s other examples like “the tiny Japanese fan of its dial” or “the tight fence of a musical staff”. I was surprised at just how often he employed the technique, sometimes with multiple instances in the same piece. It has the effect of allowing metaphor to feel more casual and conversational. I was also struck by how in virtually every instance, he used an adjective before the descriptive noun.
Confession: I immediately stole the idea and worked it into a line in a poem that was in-process: “the white snowdrift of styrofoam.” I think it sounds better in context. At least, I hope it does.
Maureen Doallas says
Syntax is how words are arranged.
One of the lovely things about Kooser is how conversational he is. He understands how everyday speech works. He uses syntax and diction to make his poems accessible.
Bob D. says
I agree that Kooser’s syntax is crafted with clarity in mind. I was just wondering if the manner in which he shaped those metaphors had a specific name apart from the fact that it employs a particular syntactical structure. It’s a device that is not commonly used. It has a way of linking the two parts of the metaphor so as to make the connection seem more natural and conversational.
L. L. Barkat says
It’s an interesting question, Bob. I understand it as a metaphor, but I bet there may be a more specific way of describing it. Hmmm.
(It’s like the way I know catalog poems as catalog poems, but the other day, reading Hirshfield, I noticed she called the cataloging that begins lines “anaphoric.” Who knew?)
Tania Runyan says
Anaphora can be applied to any poem that begins lines in the same form, so that can include catalogue poems, although not all catalogue poems are anaphoric. Also, “anaphora” sounds like some sort of medical malady.
And Bob, I accidentally replied to your metaphor question as a new comment. Oops! Hope you still see it!
Laura Brown says
Anaphora also sounds like amphora, one of those giant old Greek and Roman vessels with a handle on each side, a narrow neck, and sometimes a pointy bottom. When full, it required two people to carry it. I learned this word from Marge Piercy’s poem “To Be of Use.” (I don’t know whether the line breaks will be wonky here.)
To Be of Use
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.
I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.
The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.
– Marge Piercy
Tania Runyan says
Bob, I’m a poet who really enjoys Kooser’s work, in particular, his way of describing everyday objects with breathtaking precision. If there is a specific term for that figurative construction, I don’t know what it is. I would call it a plain ol’ metaphor. The pulsing ventricle of poetry. (See what I did there?) 🙂
Bob D. says
I appreciate the responses. I tried finding an answer online and came up with zilch. Then again, I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking for. It certainly functions as metaphor. It’s just syntactically structured in a way not typically employed.
And I completely agree about Kooser. The apparent simplicity and accessibility belies a deep poetic sensibility which I greatly admire. The fact that he makes it look/sound so easy further points to his skill. He’s the amp that goes to 11 of poetry.
Tania Runyan says
BOB. I was wondering if it was you. . .I mean, how many “Bob D.’s” can there really be?
Bob D. says
I have no idea what you’re talking about. You must be thinking of someone else. So how much chocolate do I owe you for your informed reply? I suppose I could send a B-52’s compilation instead. Or some lentils.
Tania Runyan says
I fear if I don’t come up with the more specific answer to your metaphor question, a giant B-52s cut-out will be waiting for me at the ABQ airport.
Bob D. says
Apparently, there is a “Reply” limit on threads that only allow for so much digression. Perhaps that cut-out may even bear a certain resemblance. Just sayin’.
Diana Trautwein says
What an astonishing thread. Thank you all. I have just had the utter audacity to write 47 very brief devotional reflections for Lent this year – each of them in poetic form. I do not call them ‘poems,’ because I truly don’t have a clue what makes a poem. Other than what I’ve read here, I’ve no training in it at.all. I will go over them with additional care now that I’ve read all of this beauteous thinking/advising/speculating/wondering. Special thanks to Sara, and to L.L. for writing her negatives out in the positive as well. Wow.
Maureen Doallas says
Bob D.,
Mr. Kooser was kind enough to respond to my e-mail. Here is his reply:
“I’d say it’s a metaphor with an adjective modifying the vehicle, but what do I know?”
That’s it. It’s from the poet himself!
Bob D. says
That’s wonderful that he would be gracious enough to respond. Again, thanks for asking. Now I can proceed with my paper and not fear I am broadcasting my ignorance in not knowing if it had a proper name. I’ll likely include his quote as primary source material.
Maureen Doallas says
When I was in college, I had a job with an English professor requiring me to do in-depth research using all primary sources, often for the most arcane subjects. I never had the pleasure of getting in touch with a Pilgrim or Chaucer (no channeling allowed). Going to the source is always a good approach when in doubt.
Best wishes for that paper. And come back, we always enjoying new visitors, especially when they’re poets or write about poetry.
Bethany Rohde says
Maureen,
This is amazing to me. Ted Kooser is my favorite poet.
“Mourners,” was one of the very few things I could bear to read when my father passed away, 11 months ago.
Maureen Doallas says
I’ve had the pleasure of interviewing a number of poets, some of whom have held prestigious positions. I think most poets are very down-to-earth. State poets laureate, in particular, because they serve as poetry’s ambassadors and have to be willing to go out into the community and promote poetry to the masses. Those I’m most familiar with do a terrific job.
Bethany R. says
That is fascinating, Maureen. Thank you for sharing about your experience.
Bob D. says
Although not (yet) at state poet laureate, I’ve found that Tania Runyan is rather approachable, especially if chocolate is offered.
Tania Runyan says
Oh, go away.
Wait–is that 72% dark???
Bob D. says
Only 111% is good enough for you.
Crossbeams Building Toy says
Had to step in to say DARK70 just followed me on Twitter. Sounds like a good name for a Star Wars Sith lord.
https://twitter.com/DARK70_
Monica Sharman says
(Oops, I didn’t log in right for that previous comment. That was me.)
Bethany Rohde says
Another question: How do you decide when a poem has crossed into “sentimental” territory? It seems a bit subjective to know when to call it. I’ve tried to read a variety of opinions on this and would love to hear more input. Thanks again for your time.
Tania Runyan says
Bethany, that is s tough question. For me, a sentimental poem tries to force the emotion on me–tell me what to feel, I suppose, rather than lead me into sensory language that invites its own emotional response. Think of a greeting card: it must get an emotion across in a direct, brief manner while staying quite general in order to appeal to many readers. There is nothing wrong with that given a card’s purpose, of course, but how many greeting card verses do any of us remember? We remember what we feel, not what we are told to feel.
L. L. Barkat says
I think this is a good question to do a whole “The Poet is In” post on. Maybe this Friday 🙂
Laura Brown says
What an amazing discussion. Ten days later and still going strong.
Donna says
Oh my goodness, look what I’ve missed!!! Glad I know this will all still be here tomorrow. 🙂
Bethany R. says
How do you punctuate diologue in a poem? One time I used quotation marks in a poetry MOOC and was instructed not to. I have seen (and used) italics, but I notice that sometimes diologue is not marked in any way. If you, as the writer, are wanting to be clear that someone besides the main speaker in your poem is talking, what would be best? Thank you for your time.
Tania Runyan says
Hi Bethany! I have always preferred the look of italics when punctuating dialogue in poetry. There is no rule about it; just personal preference. Quotation marks work, too, but they tend to make the lines look a little clunky (to me). I hope that helps!
Bob D. says
I’m in complete agreement with Tania. I think that quotation marks in a poem are unsightly and act like visual speed bumps. I you have dialogue, that could be indicated by indents of different size.
Randy Cierley-Sterling says
Actually, I’m not leaving a reply, I am asking a question or perhaps an opinion is more like it.
I dug out an old song/poem (not really sure which it is) that I had written several years ago and upon reading it I discovered that my rhyme scheme was A-A-B-C-D-C. After reading it through a few times it didn’t seem quite right, or perhaps comfortable, in the reading. I have since changed it to this rhyme scheme; A-A-B-C-B-C. The latter seems more readable and flows nicely. My question is: Is the first rhyme scheme, A-A-B-C-D-C, an acceptable form. Some poems I have read have led me to believe that almost anything is acceptable, though I have my doubts.
Thank you,
Laura (L.L.) Barkat says
Randy, why do you have your doubts about the acceptability of any particular form? 🙂
Tania Runyan says
I agree, Laura! Randy, as long as you have an artistic rationale/strategy for your poetic choices, go for it! What I mean by that is there are no “rules,” per se, about what is acceptable. But of course, well-crafted poetry isn’t accidental or arbitrary. So I’m pleased to see you are thinking through your form choices. Good luck!
Michael says
My friend mentioned a poetry book that I believe she said was “Full of poems about the moon, relating it to all different things in life”. I narrowed it down to ether, The Moon Before Morning by W.S. Merwin, or Like the New Moon I Will Live My Life by Robert Bly. Does anybody know which it would most likely be?
L.L. Barkat says
Michael, is there any special reason you can’t ask your friend which book she meant? You might try getting them from your local library, and then you could make a decision as to which you like best. Also, I bet Rick or Maureen or Glynn might be able to make a recommendation. I’ll point them to your question 🙂
Rick Maxson says
Hello Michael. Merwin and Bly are two of my favorite poets. You can’t go wrong there. Unless you are doing specific research, you can begin a marvelous journey by going to amazon and typing “moon and poetry.” The search for treasure is often more fruitful than the specific treasure you had in mind. There is a book I found (I have not read it) titled “Iron Moon: An Anthology of Chinese Worker Poetry” translated by Eleanor Goodman. It is due to be released in April 2017. You have helped me find this with your question. Thank you.
I can suggest a book of poems by someone named Moon, Shinji Moon. Her book is “Anatomy of Being” (I have read it and it is wonderful). Also, Dorianne Laux’s book “Facts About the Moon: Poems”
If you feel like venturing further out into the solar system, I would recommend “Life on Mars” by Tracy K. Smith (winner of the Pulitzer Prize for poetry). Smith’s father worked on the Hubble telescope and this was the inspiration for the book.
You can also try the website Emerging from Absence, a site with Japanese poetry http://themargins.net/anth/1910-1919/index.html. There are poems there about the moon.
Or you can try Bartleby http://bartleby.com/ and do a search for moon poems.
I hope you find the moon you are looking for, Michael. I’m curious why you are looking for a book of poems about the moon?