Drawing Lines

A poet-peer once told me that many poets who ask “What do you think about my poems?” do not actually want feedback, but a pat on the back. This came as a surprise but also explained why poets often don't want to pay even a small fee for a professional opinion. Since I want my poetry to be the very best I can offer, however, I didn't really understand what my friend was saying.

Then, recently, the publisher of my upcoming book of children’s poems liked the preliminary drawings I sent and gave me the go-ahead to sketch illustrations in pen and ink, something I always meant to do but never did. After completing a few drawings, I showed one of a cute little animal to a family member, who said, “The tail should be longer.”

Suddenly I understood! I'd wanted to hear, “Wow!” or “Nice job,” but instead I got advice. Although I felt like saying “Bummer!” I said “Okay,” then quickly went back to my desk, later realizing I'd learned two very important points:

1. Even the most helpful suggestion can sting. Eventually, I saw that, yes, I did need to elongate that little tail, which, yes, made the artwork better, so I’m thankful for that now. However, I have no plans to be a professional artist, which makes me less inclined to receive remarks I might consider a criticism.

2. Our attitude toward feedback depends on where we draw the line in our work. For example, if I see myself as a person who likes to write poems I might react negatively to suggestions and just want some praise or a hug. If, however, I see myself as a poet – or a person on the way to becoming a poet, I’ll be more apt to receive and apply helpful suggestions.

Where do you draw the line?

© 2014, Mary Sayler



Christian Poet’s Guide to Writing Poetry, Kindle e-book version of the poetry home study course Mary wrote and used for years with poets and poetry students

New Year, new poems, new vision for re-vision

The end of the year calls us to recall our past mistakes just long enough to learn from them, forgive whatever needs forgiving, and move on to the new year with fresh vision. The same might be said of poems that didn’t quite click, so before discarding them, let’s see if we can learn something from them and maybe even find new or renewed vision for re-vision.

How do we do that? How do we regain what’s needed to see or hear our poems – clearly as they are, and not as we hoped they might be?

Most likely, the strongest of your senses helped you to begin a poem in the first place, so another sense can now help you to revise. If, for instance, you have a “poetic ear,” your poems will express that natural sense of musicality or rhythmic beat. If you have an “artistic eye,” your poems may paint visual lines. If you’re a keen observer or have an analytical mind, you might find fresh comparisons in a simile, metaphor or other figure of speech. If your feelings provide your dominant sense, your expressive poems may speak to and for readers, saying what they cannot express well themselves.

Regardless which of your senses prevails, go with it. Let each poem flow to you with a new thought, musical phrase, sudden insight, fresh comparison, or whatever catches your poetic attention. Without censoring yourself, get your poem onto paper, then let it sit while something else occupies your mind.

When you return to a poem for re-vision, use another sensory connection – preferably one that’s opposite the original. For instance, if you have fluently expressed your feelings, let your mind now do most of the work as you analyze the connotations, sounds, and subtle nuances of each word in your poem. If your ear has been doing most of the poetic work, train your eyes to see what visual aids you might include.

By using one poetically attuned sense as you write a poem and another as you revise, your poetry can reach a new level of professionalism. More importantly, you may discover you connect with your readers in ways you had not imagined, for instance with humor, wordplays, sounds, insights or images that your readers will be glad to see and feel and hear.

Try these solutions too:

Read each poem or poetic text aloud.

Listen for anything that hinders the flow of sound or sense.

As you identify a problem, you will usually be able to identify a solution too, so be alert to that.

Correct any flaws, even if that means finding a new rhyme scheme for a traditional poem or recasting the lines in free verse.

Read aloud each revision.

If you’re not satisfied with the results, ask another poet with a similar level of experience to do a manuscript exchange, so you can provide each other with free feedback.

May God bless your New Year with love, joy, and poetry.

©2010-2013, Mary Harwell Sayler

…

How to become your own best poetry editor and get ready to edit poems by other poets too

Recently someone asked what kind of training and skill he would need to become a poetry editor. If he had wanted an editorial job with a publishing company, he would most likely need a high degree of English or literature, but no, he wanted to freelance. Since he had a poetry book in print, he thought that gave him enough experience to be an “expert,” even though he had self-published his book with no input from anyone!

He would not be the first poet or writer who thought the same before billing his services as a writing consultant. To be good at what he does, however, might require a little more effort.

As I started to make a list of the job skills or experience needed, I realized that the same suggestions apply to poets who want the best for their own poems. So, whether you want to upgrade your skills as you revise your poetry or have the information and insights needed to edit poems by other poets, these suggestions should help:


Read – all types, forms, and styles of poetry.

Focus – on the beauty of the classics and the freshness in the works of prize-winning contemporary poets.

Write – lots of poetry.

Study – poetic techniques and terminology.

Market – your poems to literary journals and e-zines you like.

Get a grip – on English grammar and punctuation, but also the concerns, worries, and needs that most people have.

Listen – to the individual voice that can be heard in your own poems and someone else’s.

Subscribe – to poetry journals and e-zines you like and also periodicals such as Poets & Writers magazine (ad in the right column.)

Read – your poems and poems by other poets – aloud, noticing the sound echoes and musicality.

Experiment – by playing with different forms, different approaches often possible for each poem, and different ways of breaking lines in free verse.

Play – with words. Play with ideas. Ask “what if?”

Learn – to trust your own judgment, to correct errors with care, to respect the voice and opinions of other poets, and to keep original copies of every poem in case the edits or revisions go too far.

Have fun – reading, writing, and playing with poetry.

~~

© 2012, Mary Sayler


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Punctuation and grammar provide poets and writers with language tools of the writing trade

Poets from countries outside the U.S. have recently been requesting critiques more often than American poets, which usually brings up correct usage of English grammar and punctuation. Both of these crucial aspects of language have been touched on in previous articles on The Poetry Editor blog such as “Revising your poetry can be a smooth move” and “That Punctual Punctuation (Anyway) How” but to recap a few important reasons:

• Punctuation guides readers through a poem.
• Punctuation and good grammar assist understanding.
• Punctuating a poem in a weird way punctuates imperfections and weirdness.
• Well-woven syntax (sentence structure) threads each line with artistry.
• Awkward or unnatural syntax confuses and loses a reader.

Almost every poet wants to stand out or be different, but breaking rules, peppering and assaulting poems with periods and commas, or twisting syntax into pretzels seldom has the desired effect. Most often, freshness comes in other ways as poets decide to:

• Be observant.
• Be clear.
• Be accurate.
• Be highly visual.
• Keep looking to find a fresh picture, perspective, insight, or comparison.
• Keep listening to the music by reading aloud each version of each poem.

Being consistent makes an effective choice too. For instance, some poets put a comma at the end of each line whether it’s needed or not, or they omit punctuation along each line then suddenly add a period at the end of a verse. Since a number of poets seem to be doing the same thing, this might be a trend (albeit ineffectual), or maybe the poet doesn't know normal punctuation works well, or maybe poets in general no longer learn about punctuation and grammar in grammar school.

Regardless of the reasons, poets and writers really need to fill or refill their toolbox of primary writing aids. If, for instance, you do not know how to apply punctuation or grind out grammar in appropriate times and places, you can improve your language skills by finding out what is correct and what is not. How?

Poets and writers with Microsoft Word software can:

Go to “File” then “Options” then “Proofing” and check the boxes needed.

Or call up a file you have saved in Word. Go to the “Review” tab on the menu bar, then click and activate “ABC – Spelling & Grammar.”

Your best options, however, include these suggestions:

Get a grammar textbook, preferably one written for grammar school kids! Why? Well, why not make learning as easy as possible?

Visit such sites as:

Chicago Manual of Style online

Guide to Grammar and Writing (college level)

Online Resources for Writers (from the University of Richmond)

Purdue Online Writing Lab

Studying proper use of grammar and punctuation might take some time, but then you will know the information and be able to use it in innumerable ways. Even more, though, as a poet or writer, your writing deserves whatever you can give – not tricks or weird maneuvers but skillful use of the tools of your trade.


~~
© 2011, Mary Harwell Sayler
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Poetry Revision: Less can bring more to a poem

One of my favorite poems came about as a poet re-envisioned a scene he had originally tried to capture in 30 lines. Since those lines did not begin to show what he saw, he tore up the poem and, six months later, tried again. Instead of using more words, however, the poet wrote a poem of half the original length, but that version still did not show readers what he wanted them to see. Another six months went by as he looked, not for more words, but for the essence of the scene – the color, the beauty, the movement, the energy, and so, one year after he had first noticed a bouquet of lovely faces at the train station in 1911 Paris, Ezra Pound completed this poem in two exquisite lines:

In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals, on a wet, black bough.

Pound talks about his initial vision and his re-vision process in an essay posted on the Internet by Modern American Poetry. That webpage, which is well worth reading, also includes essays, literary criticism, and commentaries by various poets and poetry critics on the poem and the poet’s brilliant choice of words.

If you go on to read the biography of Pound located on the website, too, you might wonder why this free-spirited, free-willed, visually-oriented man became such good friends with the anxious, cerebral, musically-oriented poet T.S. Eliot. Perhaps being unlike each other drew them into an unlikely friendship as they became the ideal poet-peers for offering each other feedback on their poems.

For example, Eliot counted on Pound to say what he really thought about The Waste Land even though he pounded home the importance of being fresh and not competing with couplets that, a couple of centuries earlier, Alexander Pope had handled with greater skill!

Again, the Modern American Poetry site posts an essay discussing the revision of Eliot’s famous book-length poem The Waste Land, and larger bookstores often stock an edition of the poem that includes annotations by Ezra Pound. Studying the comments and suggestions that one brilliant poet made to another provides an excellent mini-course in revision.


© 2011, Mary Harwell Sayler
All rights reserved.


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National Poetry Month and the 3 Rs

NaPoMo reminds us of three R’s important to poets, not just in April but throughout the year: Reading, ‘Riting, and, you do the ‘Rithmatic to know it’s also time for Revising.

Read Poetry
To become a serious poet become a great lover of poetry.
Enjoy poems more and more as you learn how to read a poem.
Support poetry! Buy poetry books and journals.
Borrow poetry anthologies from your public library.
Study classical and contemporary poems on the Internet.
Investigate Poetry Resources in an earlier article on The Poetry Editor blog.

Write Poetry
Write a poem a day until May.
Research an interesting topic.
Remember a happy/ sad/ scary time.
Describe an event and how it made you feel.
Write a poem to recall a favorite person/ pet/ holiday.
Focus on something in your home or outside your window.
Let thoughts flow without editing, revising, or censoring yourself.
Put these poems aside.

Revise Poems
Each day of NaPoMo, revise an older poem that doesn’t seem quite finished.
Read the poem aloud. Listen for any jolts or flaws in sound or sense.
Ease the process of revising as you get a new vision for each re-vision.
Use this checklist for Editing, Revising, and Otherwise Improving Your Poems.


Have a Happy National Poetry Month! And keep the NaPoMo momentum going all year long.

(c) 2011, Mary Sayler

Scan a poem. Catch the beat. Change the rhythm as you revise.

Scansion sounds scary to some poets, but scanning a poem just means seeing how to measure each line.

Across many centuries and continents, poets have found various methods of measurement such as counting syllables or accents or a combination of the two. Often, a well-tuned ear hears the beat as a poem is being written, but most of us count on fine-tuning the rhythm as we revise.

Practice will perfect the accuracy of your ear, but your eyes can also help you to catch the beat. How? As you scan a poem, you find feet to use for measuring or to discard as you would any footwear that doesn’t quite fit.

So let's get on our toes, poetically, and take a look at our feet:

In traditional, metered English verse, the most common feet come nicely shaped in pairs. With two syllables each, you find the upbeat iamb (ta-DAH), downbeat trochee (HO hum), stress-free pyrrhic (blah-blah), and double-stress spondee (ALL RIGHT!)

Once you recognize those simple two-syllable foot patterns, you’re ready to play with three-syllable feet such as the dactyl (HEAV-en-ly) and anapest (as-we-SEE.)

You might also look at those classical styles as having these designs:

Iamb = no stress then stress = _ X

Trochee = accent then no accent = X _

Pyrrhic = no stress or accent = _ _

Spondee = accent on both syllables = XX

Dactyl = accent followed by two unstressed syllables = X _ _

Anapest = two unstressed syllables ending on an accent = _ _ X

What does that info do for you? It puts your whole body to work!

Those common feet train your eyes to see what your ears hear as your mouth emphasizes each accented syllable and your hand thumps out each beat.

You then put that information to use as you revise a poem, changing words around or reworking lines until you have the number of feet needed for the particular pattern of your choice.

Say, for example, you want to write a classically patterned sonnet in iambic pentameter. To do this, you traditionally need five feet of iambs on each line:

_ X | _ X | _ X | _ X | _ X |

As you can see, the same old beat looks as boring as it sounds! So now, to help you vary the rhythm, your mind and eye can show you where to replace at least one iambic foot with a trochee or spondee. As you scan the poem and see a good spot to substitute one foot for another, you do not totally rely on your poetic ear but on other senses as well.

But what if you don’t want to write traditional metered poetry? What if you want to write free verse where line breaks make or break the poem? Will scansion help you then? It can.

Scanning the lines to find the feet (or lack thereof!) can show you where to change the beat if the rhythm seems “off” in almost any type of poem. For example, scansion can be helpful in revising a prose poem, even though your main method of measuring consists of those same little blocks or paragraphs you use in writing prose. You can also use scansion to see where the rhythm got off-beat in your free verse. For that style of poetry, most poets just keep experimenting and breaking lines in various places until they like the look and sound and feel of the poem, but scansion can help too.

Look at this line, for example, then read the words aloud:

His VOICE/ HELD SAD/ness = _ X | X X | _

See how the accents huddle together in the middle with no beat at either end? That could give you the sound effect you want, but if not, mix it up at bit. For example:

SADness/ HUGGED his/ VOICE = X _ | X _ | X

See the difference? If you read both versions aloud, you will hear a rhythmic difference too, but either way can work in a poem, depending on the sound effect you want.

Typically, a poetic ear prefers one sound or rhythm over another, but your eye can help you to discern what needs to be changed and where. So, inform all of your senses instead of relying on just one. Scan your poems. Play with meter. Order the reader-friendly e-books shown below.




(c) 2011, Mary Harwell Sayler, all rights reserved.

Breaking line with free verse

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 the e-book version of the poetry home study course I wrote and used for years in working with students. The poetry dictionary for kids is fun and helpful for all ages too.



(c) 2011, Mary Harwell Sayler

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



(c) 2011, Mary Harwell Sayler

Going Around An Imperfect Poem

For several years I’ve judged the poems entered in an international writing competition, and each year I’ve noticed similar mistakes spinning around the global theater. Since I’ve learned a lot from this recurring cycle of flaws and errors, I thought you might too, so here’s a list of things to avoid – not as you write in that first whirlwind of creativity, but as you stop to catch your breath, clear your head, and revise.

The Perfectly Imperfect Poem

Borders on the sentimental: Uses saccharine phrases or words like tears, heart, share, cry, and dear ole something or other. This category also includes excessive enthusiasm about a spring flower or other subject that might thrill a young tot.

Makes incredible statements: Often flatly stated, these lines sermonize, spout opinions as fact, make unsubstantiated claims, or come up with strange comparisons that do not hum true. Sometimes the poet goes beyond this in what might be an effort to appear wise but comes across as pseudo-wisdom or (such a lovely-sounding word) pomposity.

Gives unasked-for advice: Similar to sermonizing, this flaw takes on a bombastic tone or lays out guilt trips that drive people away. Venting, spewing, and biting may also occur.

Puts people down as a group rather than addressing that one lousy individual to whom the poem could be written: Everyone who’s politically correct knows you may not speak ill of women, other cultures, other races, and other religions, but male-bashing is equally offensive to most guys and some dolls. It’s also not okay to put down Christians and Christianity even though that’s presently the rage, whereas the one you actually want to rebuke might deserve a scathing poem or two. As for blasphemy in poetry, we'll give God the last word on that.

Uses punctuation like chicken pox: Maybe to be different, the poet omits all punctuation or omits it now and then with no consistent speckling. Sometimes lines get all scribbled up with commas, but for most poems, the communication value of plain, old, everyday, regular punctuation is actually considerate and rather hard to beat.

Uses fonts, colors, or patterns of paper that turn editorial eyes into disco balls: Some poets apparently think they must yell to get an editor or reader’s attention and, therefore, may also be inclined to use all caps. Ironically, such screams have the opposite effect, making readers clap hands only over ears.

Talks to self: For some reason, some poets seem to think a poem belongs in the genre of a diary or church confessional. This one-way conversation or out-pouring of emotions may lessen the likelihood of putrefication and, therefore, be healing for the poet, who may then be calling on readers to change a bandage or tend a wound. However, the job of a judge is merely to assesses the quality of a poem, not the mental state of the poet, who might aspire to being the next Sylvia Plath. This judge can, of course, pray for such persons, but then, maybe they already knew that.

And maybe you knew what I figured out: This list could go on and on too long, which, yes, has been the biggest problem with many poems. Let’s talk about that another time and compare notes on flaws we've noticed. Meanwhile, I need to get back to assessing my own poems and revise, revise, revise.


Mary Sayler, poet-writer