Last time we talked about how, in some ways, prose poems have more freedom than free verse since they act like little shoe boxes that let you freely drop in anything you want – from mental snapshots to contrasting thoughts that seem to have nothing to do with one another. When it comes to form, though, prose poems confine themselves to those same blocks of paragraphs that you use to write fiction and nonfiction, whereas free verse gives you the freedom to break the lines wherever you want.
The problem comes in knowing where you want to break a line and, more importantly, why.
Like prose poems, traditionally metered poetry and also syllabic verse have their own unique forms that keep them in line, but free verse gives poets so much freedom that they sometimes trip over the lines or choices. So, what’s the solution? What's a poet to do?
Experiment.
Play!
Break lines at the end of a phrase, in the middle of a phrase, or even in the middle of a word. For example:
Suspended Belief
I thought I had upgiven childhood fan-
tasies: toys from San-
ta Claus, bunny baskets, and monstrous mounds of can-
dy on All Saints Hallowed Eve.
But sipping my morning cup of Columbian
coffee with Christmas-like pleasure, I saw a man
named Juan
and his nameless donkey, bean-laden, on TV,
and I believed.
I believed in the goodness of coffee
for those who grow and pick and drink.
I believed in the kind-eyed man
and his mule – actors both,
bean-dropping on my reality.
And God?
Such belief comes so much harder than
the coffee man's assuring nod.
The One I cannot seem to see
is not so easy to believe,
and, therefore, as I live and deeply breathe,
I believe.
Mary Harwell Sayler
[Poem originally published in the now defunct Writer To Writer magazine and later in my chapbook, Speaking Peach, available through this site.]
As you probably noticed, those lines break with each “an” then “e” sound, which technically speaking, takes the poem out of the free verse realm for a while as it follows a particular pattern before, again, breaking free. Regardless, the broken pattern seemed to fit the theme of enduring faith despite the lack of logic, and, initially anyway, the lines got broken with broken words.
Does this set a pattern for you too? Not really, except to encourage you to play with something that first seems radical or even silly to see what effect you get. If the world’s weirdest line breaks work for you and the poem, great! If not, try something else, and let your ear be your final judge.
Read every poem aloud, allowing the tiny pause suggested by the end of each line break.
Listen carefully to the overall effect.
Do you like it? If not, revise until you do. With free verse, your poems have at least as many options as they have words!
To expand your options as a poet, look for upcoming articles here on traditional poetry and syllabic verse. If you have not yet studied the wealth of poetic techniques and forms available to you, check out Poetry: Taking Its Course – the book version of the poetry home study course I wrote and used for years in working with students.
For one-on-one help with your poems, explore the options, fees, and professional services available to you through The Poetry Editor website.
The Poetry Editor
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Do real poets read and write prose poems?
As a poet and, hopefully, poetry lover, do you take prose poems seriously? I never did until now. Since I’m a life-long student of traditional poetry and free verse, I have read, written, and placed both types with traditional publishers, but instead of writing prose poems, I just wrote them off.
Apparently, the same can be said of other poets too, because, in all the years I’ve been critiquing poetry, I cannot recall a single poet who wanted feedback on a batch of prose poems. Like, who reads them – much less writes the things?
With their little brick-like blocks of text, prose poems offer about as much visual appeal as a business letter or block of type on a cereal box. Conversely, free verse not only provides eye-pleasing beauty in the typography but often contains exquisite images to help us better see. And, when it comes to musicality, what can possibly please the ear more than the fluidity of sounds made possible by meter and rhyme?
For years, I could not hear or see much poetic sense in reading and writing prose poems, and frankly, I’m not sure what changed. Maybe my curiosity about the form began to surface as I re-read the precedent-setting, Pulitzer Prize-winning book of prose poems by Charles Simic. Maybe I just got bored on a rainy day. Or (more likely) maybe I got frustrated with my work, stressing over where to break the lines in my free verse poems or chafing at how traditional forms confined me with their regular lines of meter that suddenly seemed to mimic the rusty bars on a jail cell.
So, for whatever reason, real or imagined, I began to surf the Internet for information about prose poetry, finally settling on three titles that floated up, then ordering, reading, and reviewing those anthologies on Amazon. I encourage you to read them, too, if for no other reason than to expand your poetry options, but here’s what I want to tell you personally:
I have fallen in love with prose poems.
Why? When it comes to writing the prose poem, I found more freedom than free verse allows. For example, you do not have to make a decision about where to break every single line to the best effect since the unadorned paragraph form of a prose poem acts like a shoe box where you can drop in almost anything.
Similarly, you do not have to count feet, syllables, or lines. Nor do you have to count on rhymes as you do in traditional patterns of English poetry.
Prose poets do, however, make a practice of using poetic device. For example:
Some prose poets sprinkle in a little alliteration.
Some add humor (drum roll, please) with a lively, rhythmic, often jazz-like beat.
Many prose poets rely on juxtaposition to startle readers, ignite thought, or create a verbal collage that utilizes almost anything from dreams and diaries to factual data to narrative episodes and incidents to poetic insight and imagery.
Generally speaking, prose poems come across as being intimate, real, fresh, lively, honest, and, sometimes, bizarre – like real people in real life, which reminds me to mention this unexpected bonus:
Because plain, old ordinary-looking prose poems depend on the same blocks of paragraph we use for regular writing, regular people come to prose poems without being scared. They just start reading, one paragraph at a time, not realizing it’s poetry until poetic aspects begin to surface, as they inevitably do. Then, they might think, “Huh?” Or they might wonder if they just read the shortest, most poetic nonfiction article they have ever encountered. Or they might start to think the paragraphs present a really short short-short until they realize the lack of story plot.
By the time non-poet readers and/or poets previously biased against prose poetry begin to realize they have just read a prose poem, they might, like me, be hooked. But wow! Wouldn’t it be wonderful for poetry to become accessible again? Wouldn’t it be wonderful for almost everyone who likes to read to fall in love with poetry?
Apparently, the same can be said of other poets too, because, in all the years I’ve been critiquing poetry, I cannot recall a single poet who wanted feedback on a batch of prose poems. Like, who reads them – much less writes the things?
With their little brick-like blocks of text, prose poems offer about as much visual appeal as a business letter or block of type on a cereal box. Conversely, free verse not only provides eye-pleasing beauty in the typography but often contains exquisite images to help us better see. And, when it comes to musicality, what can possibly please the ear more than the fluidity of sounds made possible by meter and rhyme?
For years, I could not hear or see much poetic sense in reading and writing prose poems, and frankly, I’m not sure what changed. Maybe my curiosity about the form began to surface as I re-read the precedent-setting, Pulitzer Prize-winning book of prose poems by Charles Simic. Maybe I just got bored on a rainy day. Or (more likely) maybe I got frustrated with my work, stressing over where to break the lines in my free verse poems or chafing at how traditional forms confined me with their regular lines of meter that suddenly seemed to mimic the rusty bars on a jail cell.
So, for whatever reason, real or imagined, I began to surf the Internet for information about prose poetry, finally settling on three titles that floated up, then ordering, reading, and reviewing those anthologies on Amazon. I encourage you to read them, too, if for no other reason than to expand your poetry options, but here’s what I want to tell you personally:
I have fallen in love with prose poems.
Why? When it comes to writing the prose poem, I found more freedom than free verse allows. For example, you do not have to make a decision about where to break every single line to the best effect since the unadorned paragraph form of a prose poem acts like a shoe box where you can drop in almost anything.
Similarly, you do not have to count feet, syllables, or lines. Nor do you have to count on rhymes as you do in traditional patterns of English poetry.
Prose poets do, however, make a practice of using poetic device. For example:
Some prose poets sprinkle in a little alliteration.
Some add humor (drum roll, please) with a lively, rhythmic, often jazz-like beat.
Many prose poets rely on juxtaposition to startle readers, ignite thought, or create a verbal collage that utilizes almost anything from dreams and diaries to factual data to narrative episodes and incidents to poetic insight and imagery.
Generally speaking, prose poems come across as being intimate, real, fresh, lively, honest, and, sometimes, bizarre – like real people in real life, which reminds me to mention this unexpected bonus:
Because plain, old ordinary-looking prose poems depend on the same blocks of paragraph we use for regular writing, regular people come to prose poems without being scared. They just start reading, one paragraph at a time, not realizing it’s poetry until poetic aspects begin to surface, as they inevitably do. Then, they might think, “Huh?” Or they might wonder if they just read the shortest, most poetic nonfiction article they have ever encountered. Or they might start to think the paragraphs present a really short short-short until they realize the lack of story plot.
By the time non-poet readers and/or poets previously biased against prose poetry begin to realize they have just read a prose poem, they might, like me, be hooked. But wow! Wouldn’t it be wonderful for poetry to become accessible again? Wouldn’t it be wonderful for almost everyone who likes to read to fall in love with poetry?
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
How do you know a poem is ready?
Knowing when you have completed your creative work is a concern encountered not only by poets but by artists, writers, composers, and chefs.
Take, for example, the now seldom fried chicken. Before the general awareness of cholesterol had seeped into our veins, a good cooker looked for a golden-brown hue, yes, and sniffed for that special yummy smell, yes, and felt with the touch of a fork or finger for a particular degree of softness, yes.
So, if you want to fry chicken in your kitchen today, those same traditional characteristics of a beautifully prepared bird will help you to know when the thing has cooked long enough.
But maybe you want more. Maybe you want a prize-winning recipe. Maybe you want deliciously fried chicken that you love and everyone else loves too.
If that’s what you want, you may need more than what you see, smell, touch, feel, or even taste, which often comes later anyway.
The unique identifier of tastefully fried chicken will usually arrive through your poetic ear. Since this may be subtle, listen carefully.
Listen for the sound of sizzle throughout the cooking process.
Get so familiar with that sound that you recognize it anywhere.
Then listen for subtle changes.
As you fry chicken, the sizzle stays about the same until the sound drops a decibel or two, and then you know it’s done.
Listen for that little sizzle of readiness in your poems. What does it sound like? A nicely done poem will sizzle with:
Tasteful subject
Fresh ingredients
Nothing artificial
Crisp detail
Hint of spice
Visually appealing presentation
Feel for reader interest
Tasty side-dishes with a sudden dash of insight
Thought-provoking layers of connotation in your word choices
Ear-pleasing sounds, echoes, and that little sizzle of readiness you will learn to recognize, yes, as you read each poem aloud
[If you need help hearing the sizzle in your poems, consider getting professional feedback from The Poetry Editor.]
Take, for example, the now seldom fried chicken. Before the general awareness of cholesterol had seeped into our veins, a good cooker looked for a golden-brown hue, yes, and sniffed for that special yummy smell, yes, and felt with the touch of a fork or finger for a particular degree of softness, yes.
So, if you want to fry chicken in your kitchen today, those same traditional characteristics of a beautifully prepared bird will help you to know when the thing has cooked long enough.
But maybe you want more. Maybe you want a prize-winning recipe. Maybe you want deliciously fried chicken that you love and everyone else loves too.
If that’s what you want, you may need more than what you see, smell, touch, feel, or even taste, which often comes later anyway.
The unique identifier of tastefully fried chicken will usually arrive through your poetic ear. Since this may be subtle, listen carefully.
Listen for the sound of sizzle throughout the cooking process.
Get so familiar with that sound that you recognize it anywhere.
Then listen for subtle changes.
As you fry chicken, the sizzle stays about the same until the sound drops a decibel or two, and then you know it’s done.
Listen for that little sizzle of readiness in your poems. What does it sound like? A nicely done poem will sizzle with:
Tasteful subject
Fresh ingredients
Nothing artificial
Crisp detail
Hint of spice
Visually appealing presentation
Feel for reader interest
Tasty side-dishes with a sudden dash of insight
Thought-provoking layers of connotation in your word choices
Ear-pleasing sounds, echoes, and that little sizzle of readiness you will learn to recognize, yes, as you read each poem aloud
[If you need help hearing the sizzle in your poems, consider getting professional feedback from The Poetry Editor.]
Monday, January 3, 2011
What kind of poems fit you?
Before you wear yourself out with a poetic style you don’t even like, consider the types of poetry you want to wear for reading. Is this the kind of poem you would like to put on or show off or quietly carry over your shoulder like a shawl?
Do you look good in colorful images?
Do you like to put on your dancing shoes of rhyme or regular rhyme?
Can you pull off wearing bling in flashy patterns of in end-line rhymes?
Do you prefer to tone down your poems by scattering rhyme freely into free verse, but not in predictable patterns?
If you’re more concerned about content, rather than a stylish form, tailor that preference to yourself, wearing either free verse or traditional metered poetry such as the sonnet, villanelle, or sestina. It just depends on what appeals to you. So whatever you want to wear, be sure the poetic style fits you.
Regardless of your shape or size, putting on an appealing poem might begin with a foundation of firm but willowy lines or with an artificial yet artistic means of getting those natural lines into a traditionally pleasing shape. Various schools of poetry may disagree, but either way works. So if you’re a highly gifted poet with a natural eye or ear for poetry, you and free verse may go nicely together. Or if you’re a highly gifted poet with a natural eye and ear, you might dress up well with an extraordinary use of traditional verse forms.
To wear your poems well, check the mirror for masters of that particular form or type of free verse. Don’t just study contemporary poets whose work you like the look of, but also scan old catalogs of classical poets who wrote with style throughout the centuries. Even if you opt for the bargain rack of packing rhyme, rhythm, imagery, and social commentary into the vintage pattern of a sonnet as countless poets have done, your voice, your fresh idea, your apt comparison, your poetic face can make an outmoded fashion look new and “in” again.
If you would like professional feedback on any style of poem you’ve fashioned, see the current fees and information on The Poetry Editor website.
[This article, originally entitled "How To Wear A Poem," appeared 2010/01 on the In a Writer's Life blog.]
Do you look good in colorful images?
Do you like to put on your dancing shoes of rhyme or regular rhyme?
Can you pull off wearing bling in flashy patterns of in end-line rhymes?
Do you prefer to tone down your poems by scattering rhyme freely into free verse, but not in predictable patterns?
If you’re more concerned about content, rather than a stylish form, tailor that preference to yourself, wearing either free verse or traditional metered poetry such as the sonnet, villanelle, or sestina. It just depends on what appeals to you. So whatever you want to wear, be sure the poetic style fits you.
Regardless of your shape or size, putting on an appealing poem might begin with a foundation of firm but willowy lines or with an artificial yet artistic means of getting those natural lines into a traditionally pleasing shape. Various schools of poetry may disagree, but either way works. So if you’re a highly gifted poet with a natural eye or ear for poetry, you and free verse may go nicely together. Or if you’re a highly gifted poet with a natural eye and ear, you might dress up well with an extraordinary use of traditional verse forms.
To wear your poems well, check the mirror for masters of that particular form or type of free verse. Don’t just study contemporary poets whose work you like the look of, but also scan old catalogs of classical poets who wrote with style throughout the centuries. Even if you opt for the bargain rack of packing rhyme, rhythm, imagery, and social commentary into the vintage pattern of a sonnet as countless poets have done, your voice, your fresh idea, your apt comparison, your poetic face can make an outmoded fashion look new and “in” again.
If you would like professional feedback on any style of poem you’ve fashioned, see the current fees and information on The Poetry Editor website.
[This article, originally entitled "How To Wear A Poem," appeared 2010/01 on the In a Writer's Life blog.]
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