Tweetspeak Poetry

Committing Prufrock: A New Poetry Dare

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Poetry Dare Committing Prufrock - two white northern gannet

“ . . . committing a poem is a form of self love, like buying yourself a gift, only better. And no one can take it away from you.”  — Julia Spicher Kasdorf

One never knows when a certain editor might start to crack a dare, so it’s good to never let one’s guard down. But there I was on Saturday morning—just sitting on a bench outside our cottage, enjoying the warm breeze as it wafted through the palms. I was watching tiny geckos, snapping a few pictures, and trying to track down what I was pretty sure were parrots or parakeets.

Minding my own business, mind you, without a dare care in the world. But when I went inside to brew some tea, I opened up my email.

“Hey there, are you feeling ready for a new #poetrydare?”

Shoot. I thought I’d be safe once I sneaked cross-country from Michigan to Florida and went into hiding with the poet’s protection program. But wouldn’t you know they tracked me down. Maybe they followed the M&M trail. They’re tricky. These people know I can’t say no to a dare.

“You know I’m the daredevil queen, ” I write back. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

I’m thinking of some new poet to fall in love with. Read some poems. Write about them. Maybe write one. Piece of cake. But no. They’re resurrecting an old flame.

“We’re thinking about poetry memorization.”

I unroll my own sleeves.

“And we are thinking you are not yet done with T.S. Eliot. Or perhaps he is not done with you. And so we would like you to go back to “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” and commit it to memory.”

Say what? I’m going to commit “Prufrock”?

The editor directs me to a piece on poetry memorization by Julia Kasdorf. (Okay, this is getting weird. I found myself in Julia Kasdorf’s workshop at a writers retreat a few years back when there were no openings left in any of the other workshops. I would not have chosen poetry.)

Kasdorf says she makes all of her students memorize poems.

“The poem must be at least 14 lines long, previously published, no song lyrics. They must judge it a great poem worthy of the effort. ‘Find one you love so much you want it to be part of your bodies, ’ I tell them. A piece of art you want to own.”

There are 131 lines in “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, ” not counting the introductory six lines of Italian. Do I have to memorize something I can’t even pronounce?

I’m wondering why they chose “Prufrock” anyway. Is it because “I grow old… I grow old…”? (I did wear my capris rolled the other day.) It feels as though I’m starting to lose my mind in this process of moving, and since memorizing poetry is apparently good for keeping one’s mind, are they just trying to help me find and save mine?

Well, I’ll show them. If a shy college kid “in a ball cap who had barely ever talked” can present the entire “Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” to his whole class, I can do this thing and present it to the whole Internet. (Gulp.) Besides, I’m kind of on vacation with nothing else to do, and I’ve enlisted my Poetry Barista Sisters in Mischief, Donna Falcone and Bethany Rohde, to coach me, because any poetry barista worth her sugar should be able to be counted on to  keep me well nourished with toast and tea, and maybe some sliced peaches.

“Do I dare” and “do I dare?”

I do.

Photo by Akulatraxas, Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post by Sandra Heska King.

Editor’s Note: In the coming weeks, Sandra will update us on her progress and strategies. Stay tuned on Facebook and/or Twitter, where she’ll feature live video updates. We’ve given Sandra the option to Phone a Friend, so be prepared in case she calls on you to help with some Italian pronunciations or to learn a little about a part of the poem, or even to recite a stanza with her. And for those who want to Commit Prufrock with Sandra in this new Poetry Dare scheme, we’ll be introducing fun, illustrated Barista Badges so she and you can celebrate and share your achievements with the world.

__________________________

How to Read a Poem by Tania RunyanHow to Read a Poem uses images like the mouse, the hive, the switch (from the Billy Collins poem)—to guide readers into new ways of understanding poems. Anthology included.

“I require all our incoming poetry students—in the MFA I direct—to buy and read this book.”

—Jeanetta Calhoun Mish

BUY HOW TO READ A POEM NOW

Sandra Heska King
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Comments

  6. Bethany R. says

    A Poetry Barista on special assignment—how fun! Yes, I’m here to help you, maybe not with French pronunciation but, to quote from that Julia Kasdorf piece, I’ll be part of “the class [that] listens very hard, willing the next line to come smoothly, eager to see and praise the treasure this person loved enough to commit.”

    Reply

  9. Laura Lynn Brown says

    When I was in sixth grade and beginning to steep myself in poetry, my teacher gave me her copy of The Waste Land and Other Poems. Prufrock was in there, and lines from it as well as from “The Waste Land,.” Lines got lodged in my brain way back then and have stayed all these years. Maybe it’s just that the clay tablets of memory were soft, and maybe it’s because I read some of those poems over and over again, but there’s something especially memorable about those poems.

    For some reason, I have a lot of Robert Frost in my head too.

    You inspire me, Snady.

    Reply

    • Sandra Heska King says

      Poetry and TSE in sixth grade! Amazing. I remember liking e.e. cummings when I was young because no caps (or just a few–and messing up his arrangement of words. “I thank You God for most this amazing.” As a matter of fact, I may dig into him next. Hmmm… I thought I was terrified of poetry. Maybe that didn’t come until later when I was expected to know it more than actually enjoy it.

      I remember several of Prufrock’s lines from my first few dates with TSE, but still… this thing is taking on a whole ‘nother shape. I’m glad I inspire–but you inspire me, Laura, and I’m counting on you to help hold me together. And maybe take a “phone call.” 🙂

      Reply

      • Laura Lynn Brown says

        My sixth grade teacher was one of my best teachers ever. In fact, when I was in fifth grade, she came to teach us English while our teacher went to teach her students math. And she read to us after lunch. I started writing poetry that year. Never underestimate the lifelong influence of a good teacher.

        Just don’t start parting your hair behind.

        Reply

  11. Maureen says

    You’ve sent me back to my college days and learning Italian and finding those six lines in the epigraph are from Dante’s ‘Inferno’, and so not in French. Be glad! Italian’s much easier to pronounce than French.

    This project may inspire a Monday Muse, Did You Know… column about ‘Prufrock’, which would have to include:

    John Craton’s musical setting of the poem (for tenor and strings): http://www.craton.net/music/prufrock.htm

    Julian Peters’s comic book adaptation: julianpeterscomics.com/page-1-the-love-song-of-j-alfred-prufrock-by-t-s-eliot/

    Just know you’re in company with Woody Allen, Ben Affleck, Chuck D., and Monica Lewinsky.

    Reply

  12. Marina Sofia says

    Yes, yes, please, I want to see this! And it’s one of my favourites too: a friend and I used to quote it to each other . Especially ‘I grow old … I grow old… I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled’ . At the time it seemed funny, but now that we are getting to that age…

    Reply

  13. Laurie Klein says

    First thought: “like a patient etherized upon a table” . . . meaning no pain, lots of sky, and floaty carefree bring-it-on bliss. I’m pretty sure this dare involves a free Pasta Pass for the duration . . . employing the immersion approach of learning. 🙂 Cheering you on!!!

    Reply

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