If you want to keep writing poems, you’ll do well to study poetry and poetic techniques. For instance, the user-friendly book, Poetry: Taking Its Course, explains forms, poetic techniques, and professionalism in poetry. You can use the book by itself or for its original purpose as a poetry home study course, which you’ll have simply by getting a critique for each practice assignment.
Basically, a critique gives you objective, professional feedback on your poetry book, chapbook, or batch of poems. For information and reasonable fees, visit The Poetry Editor website – http://www.thepoetryeditor.com.
In addition to those steps, read poetry aloud – your own poems and those by other people – to get a feel for what works and what does not. You’ll then be better prepared to edit, revise, or otherwise improve your own work, which, frankly, is a life-long job for any poet.
During the last few weeks, for example, I’ve been organizing poems around a single theme for a new chapbook. Although I’d written some of the poems recently, others came about years ago but just never seemed quite ready. So I let them sit and wait and wait until I had the time, focus, and distance needed to read my own work objectively. When I began to tighten lines and tweak words or phrases, I found that the “unready” poems needed one of these common solutions:
Long poems written in free verse often needed to be shortened, which usually meant omitting lines or cutting phrases that did not add anything new. If the whole poem had nothing new, it got cut from the stack, even if it had been waiting a long time for its turn in the pages of a book.
A few of the poems needed their lines moved around like furniture. Typically, this trial-and-error method focused on finding the most pleasing arrangement and (very important) placing the strongest line at the end of the poem.
Some poems saw immediate improvement with a simple change of viewpoint. For instance, a first person or “I” poem sometimes worked better as second or third person poem, while a “you” poem that sounded too didactic became more interesting and accessible as “us.”
What works best for your poems will depend on various factors, of course, but the flaws in mine most likely mirror yours. The biggest difference will probably be heard in the sound of our speaking voice.
Coming from small towns in the South, I talk naturally in iambic pentameter, which generally means 10 to 11 syllables per line with the even numbers getting slightly more emphasis. (Yes, the Poetry: Taking Its Course book explains all this in detail.)
To avoid a sing-songy beat or monotone, variations in rhythm will occur, but otherwise, five straight iambs have this basic rhythm: taDA/ taDA/ taDA/ taDA/ taDA. (Say that aloud, and you’ll feel silly but will hear what I mean.)
If you’re from a large city, it’s almost certain that you live and speak at a much faster pace than I do, which means your poems might sound that way too. For instance, if you talk briskly or in a clipped fashion, you might try working your poems toward, say, trimeter, which might give you three iambs per line, taDA/ taDA/ taDA or dimeter in two iambs: taDA/ taDA. Or, you might find a more comfortable voice by reversing the upbeat iambs into the downbeat rhythm of spondees: DAtum/ DAtum/ DAtum/.
The idea is to find whatever line length best echoes your speaking voice. How can you know? Listen to yourself talking. Read aloud each poem you write, and read aloud every revision. Then ask:
Does this poem even sound like me?
Does it tightly compress my thoughts.
Does it arrange lines effectively?
Does the poem have something fresh or interesting to say?
If so, rejoice! Your poem speaks well for you and, most likely, will speak to other people.