How To Make A Poem - Future Learn Course

[Moonchime]

Ah reading your lovely comments ladies is like water in the desert, balm to the soul;you are so very generous in time and attention - thank you.

How did it start for you? An actual image of a gargoyle? Something else? !

It actually started after I had done some readings and despite doing it quite frequently, I always get really nervous (it's not frequent enough to ban the nerves) and worry about doing it right. On one occasion someone came up to me and told me how she loved to listen to my voice – and it just made me feel so great that it got me thinking about how much difference a few words can make; a transformation in so many ways. The glow from those words were the inspiration for the poem. I jotted down my ideas when I got back and re-visited it when my attempts at a "found" poem on wind were becoming too epic and diverse; a perfect storm in fact
The gargoyle image came as I was thinking about being all withdrawn into the self.The original was not quite the same - the second verse has sweat in it - and I have since changed it again after my reviews on the course - but not quite the way it was suggested!

So the main criticism from one reviewer was and I quote

"Like honey" feels a little cliche. I think you need either a stronger image or detail to make it more vivid. For example, "Your words golden on the spoon like the spit of bees offered to me free of sting, like the honey of my childhood gathered from buckwheat fields all buzz on the tongue." I've oversold it here, but it gives you an idea. I felt the same about "Sweet Hallelujahs,". Maybe more like, "A cathedral full of voices ringing in head space vaulting the ceiling of my mind."

So...

Spoiler:

[Dee]

[Lori]

[Lori]

Off to find some "spit of bees" in my cupboard. Yum! A graceful and tasty image indeed.

[Moonchime]

It is no small joy to find you in agreement.

Goodness knows it had me troubled.

Spoiler:

That last comment made me laugh.

But then some guy from Canada who described himself as "Wounded Warrior" wrote:

The poem starts with a description of abject depression ‘ accident of God’s distraction’ why was i even born? This line resonates with me profoundly as I have often thought this.

OMG what have I done?
Anyway he said he was happy by the end of the poem (than goodness) so I didn't feel as bad!!!!

[Lori]

My cento poem

I bury my nose deep
And all I ask is a windy day and the white clouds flying,

1st line from “Marking Him”” by Margaret Hasse
2nd line from “Sea Fever” by John Masefield


This cento made me smile because, in my opinion, it is so very you! I immediately envision you cozy in a garden or comfy room reading a book. (And your family has no idea you are even home...)

My Found poem

Bedroom Window Worlds

Bedroom Window Worlds

The pond rocks in small waves
while a father comforts his child,
tattooed dragons bulging in gentle strokes.

Leaning against the railings,
he smokes distractedly, duck - watching through dark glasses as
the child pulls off flower heads un-noticed.

Ducklings scoot over the water like crazy motors
Dodging their elders.
A couple march past. They don’t stop.

Mother duck mounts the float
reserved for the Gang Leader, who is elsewhere.
I call her Boudicca now.

The playground is still,
except for the daisies growing
and shadows shifting over the listening grass.

A rainbow of greens shimmer and shake
nodding and bowing in ceaseless chatter while
Sculpted clouds, like God, watch from afar.

KK

Again, your writing here is really skilled in that most of these 3-line verses are nearly interchangeable and most could even start the poem, they are that visual and complete. As I said, I had to look up Boudicca (Boudicca (d. 61 CE) was the Celtic queen of the Iceni tribe of modern-day East Anglia, Britain, who led a revolt against Rome in 60/61 CE) - a very humorous touch. Love the little ducklings like crazy motors - so apt - and particularly the last lines:

A rainbow of greens shimmer and shake
nodding and bowing in ceaseless chatter while
Sculpted clouds, like God, watch from afar.

I love the personification of the clouds, like God, watching from afar. You delight in your descriptions. So enjoyable, Mz. K. Thank you!

[Lori]

This was my final poem for the course, the one I've submitted as an assignment.

Throughout this Lockdown I've fallen into a lovely routine of morning yoga, followed by mindfulness meditation. From these rich experiences I feel there will be a handful of short poems born over the next few weeks, I already have some drafts for others. But this one I'm happy to share now.


morning revelations

1

as i place one in the other
i wonder every morning
how nothing is as intimate as holding my own hand

warm and sweaty fingers
create a tiny cradle
that can miraculously hold the whole of me

how soft is the touch
how unconditional
how true the whisper of forever

I am revisiting this poem, Dee. I love the tender tone and the journey it represents. "...nothing is as intimate as holding my own hand" and the tiny cradle miraculously holding the "whole of me" really touched me in that it displays the treatment we give to others so freely yet perhaps not to ourselves as easily. The ending lines have a quiet sustaining strength. Elegant and mature passage into a deeper understanding of the strings that hold you up and really the faith in self. I'm looking forward to more from this set of "Morning Revelations" writings. You say so much in these brief lines. Beautiful!

[Dee]

Thank you so much, Lori. I like simple and concise. I tend to use too many words, and I have found the exercise of CUTTING hugely beneficial. Trying not to say too much or go off in tangents. Condense. I’ve learnt so much from doing this course.

I was just trying to imagine what Mz MoonChime’s reviewer would have made of my poem, lol.

Something like this:


“Cradle" feels a little cliche. I think you need either a stronger image or detail to make it more vivid. For example, "A bed made for unsettled babes from the dead trees of cries by the carpenter of benevolence buzzing lullabies in the soft pulsing bloody organ in the hollow of my chest”. I've oversold it here, but it gives you an idea.

I am not that bothered with concepts such as length of lines and rhythm and metre, I just like to sound clever and hear my own voice. Isn’t that the point of poetry?”

[Dee]

But then some guy from Canada who described himself as "Wounded Warrior" wrote:

The poem starts with a description of abject depression ‘ accident of God’s distraction’ why was i even born? This line resonates with me profoundly as I have often thought this.

OMG what have I done?
Anyway he said he was happy by the end of the poem (than goodness) so I didn't feel as bad!!!!

Blimey. Lucky your poem has ended on a happy note, otherwise who knows what might have become of our Wounded Warrior.

The responsibility of posting poetry, ladies!! Who’d have thought?

[Moonchime]

Dee wrote:

The responsibility of posting poetry, ladies!! Who’d have thought?

Too right eh? I'll be more careful in future.
I suppose that's what we're all waiting for though - something that resonates with our experience, our lives, our deepest secrets, our soul-searching, our home-coming.

“Cradle" feels a little cliche. I think you need either a stronger image or detail to make it more vivid. For example, "A bed made for unsettled babes from the dead trees of cries by the carpenter of benevolence buzzing lullabies in the soft pulsing bloody organ in the hollow of my chest”. I've oversold it here, but it gives you an idea.

That has brought much merriment to my day!!!! In fact it's quite an exercise in itself isn't it? Making things as complicated as possible!!! It's quite clever though - what you've written.

I am not that bothered with concepts such as length of lines and rhythm and metre, I just like to sound clever and hear my own voice. Isn’t that the point of poetry?”

Ah now's there's a debate indeed! I love the honesty of it - but - joking aside:
1. I think your poetry tells me something different - you always have form and rhythm in your work.
I think you can write a poem without paying any attention to lines and rhythm but as soon as you read it you know whether it "sounds right" or whether there are things that need attention; it may be sub-conscious but it's there.
In your poems here, you always have quite tight control of your line length as well - whether you planned it or not it's there, but I think it only matters in so far as it creates the impact you want and the cadences it creates.

2. What is the point of poetry? How much does it matter that what you write is seen/heard?
I think the desire to write poetry comes from a need to make sense of the world; to greater understand our deepest feelings, our hidden parts, our secret thoughts, our very selves.
The very act of articulating those things is a vital, creative process; once done it may be enough - or like music, does it need to resonate in the world?

The wanting to sound clever - yeah - who doesn't want that? I have to say that's where it tends to go pear-shaped for me. Funnily enough - I think I've written a poem about that!!!

[Moonchime]

My cento poem

I bury my nose deep
And all I ask is a windy day and the white clouds flying,

1st line from “Marking Him”” by Margaret Hasse
2nd line from “Sea Fever” by John Masefield


This cento made me smile because, in my opinion, it is so very you! I immediately envision you cozy in a garden or comfy room reading a book. (And your family has no idea you are even home...)

If my family couldn't find me - oh that would be great sometimes!!!

most of these 3-line verses are nearly interchangeable and most could even start the poem, they are that visual and complete.

Thank you Lori - you are an astute reviewer and have opened my eyes to things I had not even realised!!
Your comments are much appreciated.

I have to say the pond life could be a ballad - since I wrote that poem there has been much change - and Boudicca has lived up to her name.
Her family of ducklings is now full grown, but another female tried to bring her 12 ducklings (just hatched from our neighbour's garden) into the pond and one of the drakes chased the mother off the pond, and then Boudicca dispatched the ducklings (all of them).

Her family now occupy the float that was the reserve of the males.

[Dee]

Dee wrote:

The responsibility of posting poetry, ladies!! Who’d have thought?

Too right eh? I'll be more careful in future.
I suppose that's what we're all waiting for though - something that resonates with our experience, our lives, our deepest secrets, our soul-searching, our home-coming.

“Cradle" feels a little cliche. I think you need either a stronger image or detail to make it more vivid. For example, "A bed made for unsettled babes from the dead trees of cries by the carpenter of benevolence buzzing lullabies in the soft pulsing bloody organ in the hollow of my chest”. I've oversold it here, but it gives you an idea.

That has brought much merriment to my day!!!! In fact it's quite an exercise in itself isn't it? Making things as complicated as possible!!! It's quite clever though - what you've written.

I am not that bothered with concepts such as length of lines and rhythm and metre, I just like to sound clever and hear my own voice. Isn’t that the point of poetry?”

Ah now's there's a debate indeed! I love the honesty of it - but - joking aside:
1. I think your poetry tells me something different - you always have form and rhythm in your work.
I think you can write a poem without paying any attention to lines and rhythm but as soon as you read it you know whether it "sounds right" or whether there are things that need attention; it may be sub-conscious but it's there.
In your poems here, you always have quite tight control of your line length as well - whether you planned it or not it's there, but I think it only matters in so far as it creates the impact you want and the cadences it creates.


The wanting to sound clever - yeah - who doesn't want that? I have to say that's where it tends to go pear-shaped for me. Funnily enough - I think I've written a poem about that!!!

Oh, Kathy, you've made me laugh and also thank you for all the compliments that you've given me so lovingly, but I think you have misinterpreted my post above!

All the text in yellow font (that is both paragraphs) was between quotation marks and was meant to be written as a mock post pretending to be from that smarty pants reviewer who wanted you to call honey the spit of bees. Therefore, it's not me who doesn't care about length of lines, rhythm and metre... it's that silly person who has rewritten your carefully constructed rhythmical lines as half a novel, completely ruining the length of lines, rhythm and metre in your poem. And it's not me who likes the sound of her own voice in this instant or enjoy being clever, but Smarty Pants.

Now if we are turning this thing back to me, thank you so much for defending my application of rhythm and metre and line lengths, because I actually very much care about these things, and I'm pleased to hear I'm doing a decent enough job with these things in my poetry.

Regarding enjoying being clever - that much is true for me too, I'm not ashamed to admit. I think there is nothing wrong with that! I'd love to read your poem about that. Or have I already? Something rings the bell. Quite possibly having a senile moment here...

Hearing my own voice... nah. Quite the opposite.
Except when I'm singing. I quite like my singing voice. But talking... yikes. One upside of the quarantine for me was much less talking. (Until it went to the other extreme, but that's a different story.) In writing, I am definitely guilty of going on an on... and I do apologise for that. It's just that I'm trying hard to explain things properly, and I tend to get carried away! But at least I'm not doing it trying to rewrite someone's brilliant poem and replacing it with utter gibberish!

So here is my response to the what-was-funny-to-me-part of your post, that was still ever so heartwarming. I will respond to the other parts separately.