Why Write Poems?

 Why do we write poetry? The reasons vary from one poet to another - or even in ourselves from time to time - but these commonly occur:

 

• Artistic Expression - If you began to write poems in childhood or as a young adult, you likely have a gift for playing with words, writing poems with a sense of musicality, and/or capturing memorable moments and scenes.

 

• Connection with Other People - Poets often want to share their work with others. Hopefully, a parent, grandparent, teacher, editor, or poetry-loving-friend has nurtured your interest in poetry and will be honest (but tactful!) in identifying subjects and tones most likely to appeal to readers you don't yet know.

 

• Therapeutic Value - People in all age groups typically begin to write poems as a creative outlet for memories or emotions. These poems can serve an expressive purpose similar to journal-writing and can bring healing or interesting histories to families. Since publication is not the purpose for this type of writing, the poems might not connect with readers in general. However, if your revisions have readers in mind, therapeutic poems can speak for those who cannot express themselves.

 

• Publication - As you gain confidence in your writing, you might want your poems to appear in print journals, magazines, anthologies, or e-zines. Poets who take poetry seriously will be apt to study poems by other poets and carefully read the guidelines on each potential publisher's website before submitting their work.

 

• Literary Contribution - When you've placed a number of poems in journals or other publications, you'll hopefully begin to see your work as a contribution to the literary world!

 

For more tips on poetry, type a key word in the Search box of this blog.

 

Mary Harwell Sayler

A Poet Challenges AI to a Duel

As a poet and writer for my entire adult life (and lately, a student of arti), I’ve viewed Artificial Intelligence (AI) as a threat to human creativity (dare I say, human existence.)

Until today, I hadn’t sought help from artificial sources, but I was curious to see how AI would respond to one of my poems. So, for the test case, I picked an inspirational poem that’s received positive reader-responses.

 

Wait!

Wait for God

to respond.

He hears.

He turns toward His crying child.

He reaches down into your clay crib

and brings you up, high,

high,

into His bosom.

He sets you on His shoulder.

He jostles you on His knee.

And when you're comforted and quiet,

He holds you closely

and teaches you to speak,

to pray.

 

Here’s the same poem, rewritten with Artificial Intelligence (AI.)

 

Wait!

Hold in hope,

for God's reply.

He listens.

His heart turns to His tender child.

He leans down into your fragile soul

and lifts you up, soaring,

soaring,

into His warm embrace.

He carries you upon His back.

He gently sways you on His arm.

And when you're at peace and silent,

He whispers close,

teaching you to speak,

to pray.

 

As you reread both versions, ask yourself:

Is the AI version an improvement?

Does it sound poetic as you read it aloud?

Is a crying child the same as a tender child?

Which is easier to envision – a fragile soul or a clay crib?

Have you ever seen parents carry young children on their shoulders? Is that the same imagery or the same feeling a child might get when carried in a backpack?

If you jostle a young child on your knee does that equate to gently swaying a baby on your arm?

My point is that when AI took over, it instantaneously changed the imagery, lost the poetic rhythm, and produced a sugary version that failed to create anything fresh or new. Now I cannot speak for technical writings, data summaries, or prose in general, but it would seem that poets who take their work seriously have nothing to fear.

If we give our poems the time they deserve to reveal something new to us and our readers and/or if we find fresh ways to express our thoughts and feelings (neither of which AI possesses) poets, writers, musicians, artists, and human beings of all ages will, Lord willing, remain irreplaceable.

 

Mary Harwell Sayler

"Wait" (my version, not AI) was previously published in the Explorer, Letters to a Priest Anthology, and book A Gathering of Poems.

 

Brief impressions of great poets

 

For decades, I devoured poetry! Traditional poems, contemporary poems, free verse, haiku, or indiscernible forms didn’t matter. I was so hungry to write delectable poems, I gorged myself on those I admired.

When my vision declined, however, I had to reduce my poetry diet to very large print books, so my formerly over-stacked shelves of poetry have now dwindled to three. 

Since I no longer have books by all of the poets who came to mind, my recollections might not match your impressions. With mere memories of my favorites to go by, I’ll keep these briefs brief by confining my thoughts to the syllabic count of haiku:

 

Billy Collins Reads the Dictionary

which syncs with his high
cerebral forehead and his
cover of quick wit.

…

Mary Oliver Memorialized Earth

by looking closely
and finding beauty in un-
expected places.

…

Charles Wright Seeks Spirituality

though viewing afar,
declining to embrace it
with free abandon.

…

Jory Graham’s Exquisite Poems

use gorgeous language –
often indecipherable
to avid readers.

…

Carl Sandburg Spoke Plainly

of Chicago life
for us to experience
even in the fog.

…

Richard Wright Wrote Haiku

observing little
moments in everyday life.
We identify!

…

Wallace Stevens Titles

act as an entry
into his poems, giving us
a clue to meaning.

…

The Book of Psalms

shows faith in action.
In hard circumstances, praise
stands as sacrifice.

…

Have you written a poem about your favorite poet? If so, you’re welcome to post it in the comments section below.

 

Mary Harwell Sayler
a lover of God and poetry

Poets picking poets

 

When I asked a group of poets about their favorite poets, I started by naming those who meant the most to me:

Mary Oliver, who keenly observed and wrote about the intricacies of nature (human and otherwise), got me back to writing poems after years away!

Wendell Berry, whom I had the privilege of meeting, inspired and challenged me with his poems about basics and community.

After struggling in high school to understand T.S. Eliot, I devoured his amazing comparisons and exquisite phrases, wrought, no doubt, by time and insightful observation.

Other favorites include the wry humor of Billy Collins, down-to-earth haiku of Richard Wright, powerful reflections and assessments of Langston Hughes, and, oh, too many poets to name, for many were my teachers-in-print.

Then, a group of poets shared their favorites, such as Emily Brontë, whose work I’d never read but wanted to after hearing the poet’s reason for choosing her: “The way she sees the world in such a unique and almost haunting way makes her writing stand out for me. I feel very inspired reading her poetry.”

Another poet didn’t give reasons for the choices, but provided specific titles: Wislawa Szymborska, “Four in the Morning,” Yusef Komunyakaa, “Ode to the Maggot,” and Elizabeth Bishop, “One Art.”

Yet another said, “Of course, the great Pablo Neruda. Soft heart for Galway Kinnell as well,” but most of the poets merely listed their favorites, each of whom is worth looking up online and reading a poem or two. To ease your research, just copy and paste each name of interest into your browser’s Search box.  

Allen Ginsberg

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Anna Akhmatova

Czeslaw Milosz

Denise Levertov

Dylan Thomas

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Emily Dickinson

Francis Thompson

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

John Keats

John Donne

John Milton

Khalil Gibran

Lord Byron

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Robert Browning

Robert Frost

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

William Blake

William Stafford

William Wordsworth

Walt Whitman

I’ve omitted some of the favorites because of space and also because I wasn’t familiar enough with their poems to recommend them here, but I hope you’ll add your favorite poet(s) in the Comments section below.

 

Posted by Mary Harwell Sayler, who would be ecstatic for you to buy numerous gift copies of A Gathering of Poems!

 

 

 

 

Found Poems and the Bible

 

A Found Poem can be found anywhere an arrangement of words or interesting thoughts pop out at you. Some poets scramble and reassemble lines from a magazine ad, a speech, an article, or a favorite book. Since my favorite book is the Bible, I often find Found Poems there, and this week they reflect next Sunday’s readings.

To explain, many church denominations use the same Lectionary each week with readings from the Hebrew Bible (aka Old Testament), a Psalm, an Epistle (letter) from the New Testament, and a Gospel. Our multi-denominational church does this too, and when I saw the readings for the first Sunday in October, I thought, “Wow! I found poems in each of those scriptures: Psalm 137, Lamentations, 2 Timothy 1, and Luke 17. So, to give you examples and encourage your poetic findings, here they are!

Harps On The Willows
based on Psalm 137

By Babylon's waters,
we sat down & wept.
By Babylon's rivers,
we lingered.
Remembering Zion,
we hung up our harps.
We hung weeping harps
on the willows.
We flung our lyres onto
the poplars.

  May peace come to us.
  May songs come to us.
  May God come to us.

  Shalom, Zion. 

"Give us a song!"
our tormentors sang.
"Sing us your songs
of Zion."
But how shall we sing
with our lives out of tune?
As we mourn,
shall we croon over Zion?
Shall we sing the Lord's song
out of Zion?

  May peace come to us.
  May songs come to us.
  May God come to us.

  Shalom, Zion.

Jerusalem!
May we never forget!
May we never forget God's city.
If we do not recall,
surely God's wrath will fall
over every song sung
not of Zion.
Shalom will not rest
outside Zion.

  May peace come to us.
  May songs come to us.
  Oh, God!  Come to us!

  Shalom!  Zion!

from my book A Gathering of Poems

…

Found in the prophet Jeremiah’s
entire Book of Lamentations

I.

Lonely sits the city
once full of citizens.
Bitterly she weeps
in the silence of night.
Even the roads to her
mourn softly. The
priests groan. Young
girls grieve. The city’s
enemies prosper.

Precious things filled
the past. She took no
thought for the future.

Look, Lord, and see
how worthless she’s
become, and no one
comforts her.

II.

The Lord has done this!
God has destroyed her
without mercy. Her
prophets see no visions.

People! Cry aloud to God!
Pour our your hearts like
water. Lift up your hands
for the children, who
faint from hunger.

III.

I am the one who sees
this affliction. In the
dark, I sit without light.
Chains weigh me down.
A wall holds back my
prayers. My soul has
found no peace. Yet

Hope returns as I call
to mind the steadfast
love of the Lord, Whose
mercies never cease.
They are new every
morning. Great is Your
faithfulness. Therefore,
I will still hope in You.

How good to wait in
silence for salvation
from the Lord as I turn
the other cheek to the
Smiter. Let us test and
examine our ways,
and return to God. Let
us lift up our hearts and
our hands to Heaven.
When I call to the Lord,
He says, “Do not fear!” 

IV.

In vain we watched for
help from a nation who
could not save us.

V.

Now we must buy wood
for warmth. We must
buy water to quench our
thirst. Music has ceased,
but God orchestrates
everything! Restore us,
O Lord! Restore us, and
we shall be restored.

… 

Haiku from 2 Timothy 1:7

God does not give us
a spirit of fear, but love,
power, and sound mind.

...

Mastering Servants

prose poem from Luke 17:7-10

“If your servants do only as you ask and nothing more…”
Do we praise them profusely? 

Picture the people we hired – dragging themselves in,
wearily sweating and reeking of dirt and sheep after
plowing a field or keeping watch over the flock. Do we
hop up to wash their feet or cook their dinner and serve
them while they rest? No way! Instead, we might say,
“Hey, get my dinner, then get your own.” So when
we only do as God commands, and the Lord Himself
gets up to welcome us and wash our feet and give us
rest, it might be best to say, “Oh, Lord, I am not worthy
of such attention and affection! I’ve merely done the 
minimum required to keep my job.”

…

Haiku humor based on Luke 17:6

I’ll be more likely
to tell that mountain to move
than find faith to climb!

…

Hopefully, my examples encourage you to search the Bible for Found Poems and maybe find more than that! As you look through scripture, especially notice verses that speak to you and your readers today.

May blessings and poetry abound!

 

Mary Harwell Sayler

 

Hearting the Love Sonnet

 

Haiku has been my go-to form of poetry for so long, I’ve seldom given thought to the lasting value and versatility of the sonnet. Then recently, a poet-friend said she planned to focus on studying and writing sonnets, which turned my attention to the subject too. (Thank you, April.)

Shakespeare immediately comes to mind, of course, and also John Milton, John Donne, George Herbert, and numerous other poets who wrote in a variety of poetic forms but with a romantic aside to sonnets. To provide you with some study-worthy examples of this timeless form, most often written in iambic pentameter, I’ve selected sonnets where love poems between two people have elevated into love poems to the Lord.

 

Leave Me, O Love, Which Reachest but to Dust

Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586)

 

Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust,

And thou my mind aspire to higher things:

Grow rich in that which never taketh rust:

Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.

 

Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might,

To that sweet yoke, where lasting freedoms be:

Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light,

That doth both shine and give us sight to see.

 

O take fast hold, let that light be thy guide,

In this small course which birth draws out to death,

And think how evil becometh him to slide,

Who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath.

Then farewell world, thy uttermost I see,

Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me.

…

 

Easter

by Edmund Spencer (1552-1599)

 

Most glorious Lord of Life, that on this day 

Didst make Thy triumph over death and sin;

And having harrowed hell didst bring away

Captivity thence captive us to win:

This joyous day dear Lord with joy begin;

And grant that we for whom thou didst die 

Being with Thy dear blood clean washed from sin 

May live forever in felicity!

 

And that Thy love we weighing worthily 

May likewise love Thee for the same again;

And for Thy sake that all like deare didst buy 

With love may one another entertain.

So let us love, dear Love, like as we ought. 

Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.

…

 

Earth has not anything to show more fair

William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

 

Earth has not anything to show more fair:

Dull would he be of soul who could pass by

A sight so touching in its majesty:

This City now doth like a garment wear

The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,

Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie

Open unto the fields, and to the sky;

All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

Never did sun more beautifully steep

In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill;

Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!

The river glideth at his own sweet will:

Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;

And all that mighty heart is lying still!

..

 

God's Grandeur

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1841-1889)

 

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

    It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;

    It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil

Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?

Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;

    And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;

    And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil

Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

 

And for all this, nature is never spent;

    There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;

And though the last lights off the black West went

    Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

    World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

…

 

As you can see, each sonnet includes the standard 14 lines with a volta or turning point, usually on the eighth line or the twelfth.  

For additional discussions on the form, visit this previous post. Also, you’ll find below a contemporary (as in, written last week) example of a sonnet in tetrameter with four beats per line instead of five and four rhyming sounds (a personal challenge since I’m a rhyming-minimalist.)

 

Sonnet Awakened at 3 a.m.

Mary Harwell Sayler  

 

If independence boasts its reward,

when will we dare depend on the Lord?

And if God’s Word calls for accord,

why do we wield it like a sword?

 

Let us, as One, world’s ways despise,

but see each person as God’s prize

and look for Love through Spirit eyes.

Such love will heal us and surprise.

 

Begone, you selfish, sightless core!

If need be, grope for Jesus’ door.

Unlatch your tethered thoughts. Explore

the words of Christ Whom you adore.

 

God’s Own Spirit bids us, “Come!

Live Christ’s Love. Be Whole. Be One.

…