Joe Brainard’s book was helpful as a model for both the format and topics I included in my “I Remember” poem. This poem allowed for personal reflection to be used as inspiration, which was more difficult for me to do than in the previous poems about strictly objects or single events. I learned that certain smells, and certain memories of objects are linked and can take you from one memory to the next. The relationship between these memories may not be apparent to the reader, but I think the success of the writer depends on how well the memories are arranged to allow the memories to flow easily on the page. The connections may be obvious, or not so obvious. I appreciate the idea that no memory is insignificant. This encouraged me to write in a stream of thought, where each memory was just as important as the last. I found it difficult to use Joe Brainard’s poem as a model as well because his book/poem is lengthy, but complete. I struggled with finding a place to close the poem for the sake of the assignment.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Poetics 4
Poetics 5
Sunday, November 29, 2009
I Remember
Poetics 4
Poetics 4
Monday, November 16, 2009
VEGAN THANKSGIVING AT TEMPLE
Every November, turkeys are slaughtered in increased quantities to feed America’s tradition of having the bird on the Thanksgiving feast table. Last year, PAW took a stand against the slaughter of holiday turkeys by hosting a Potluck Vegan Thanksgiving Celebration and adopting a turkey from Farm Sanctuary. This year, we will continue the tradition and invite everyone—you don’t have to be vegan or vegetarian to come! Last year, we had cornbread, pumpkin pie, cranberry sauce, homemade stuffing, mashed potatoes, and yes—tofurkey with gravy!
The celebration is a potluck and is only successful if everyone pitches it! We request that PAW members bring a vegan dish, a drink, plates, cups, etc. Those who are not members of PAW are not required to bring anything, but are always welcome!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Poetics 3
Monday, November 9, 2009
A FEW DON'TS BY AN IMAGISTE
It is the presentation of such a “complex” instantaneously which gives that sense of sudden liberation; that sense of freedom from time limits and space limits; that sense of sudden growth, which we experience in the presence of the greatest works of art.
It is better to present one Image in a lifetime than to produce voluminous works.
All this, however, some may consider open to debate. The immediate necessity is to tabulate A LIST OF DON’TS for those beginning to write verses. But I can not put all of them into Mosaic negative.
To begin with, consider the three rules recorded by Mr. Flint, not as dogma—never consider anything as dogma—but as the result of long contemplation, which, even if it is some one else’s contemplation, may be worth consideration.
Pay no attention to the criticism of men who have never themselves written a notable work. Consider the discrepancies between the actual writing of the Greek poets and dramatists, and the theories of the Graeco-Roman grammarians, concocted to explain their metres.
Language
Use no superfluous word, no adjective, which does not reveal something.
Don’t use such an expression as “dim lands of peace.” It dulls the image. It mixes an abstraction with the concrete. It comes from the writer’s not realizing that the natural object is always the adequate symbol.
Go in fear of abstractions. Don’t retell in mediocre verse what has already been done in good prose. Don’t think any intelligent person is going to be deceived when you try to shirk all the difficulties of the unspeakably difficult art of good prose by chopping your composition into line lengths.
What the expert is tired of today the public will be tired of tomorrow.
Don’t imagine that the art of poetry is any simpler than the art of music, or that you can please the expert before you have spent at least as much effort on the art of verse as the average piano teacher spends on the art of music.
Be influenced by as many great artists as you can, but have the decency either to acknowledge the debt outright, or to try to conceal it.
Don’t allow “influence” to mean merely that you mop up the particular decorative vocabulary of some one or two poets whom you happen to admire. A Turkish war correspondent was recently caught red-handed babbling in his dispatches of “dove-gray” hills, or else it was “pearl-pale,” I can not remember.
Use either no ornament or good ornament.
Rhythm and Rhyme
Let the candidate fill his mind with the finest cadences he can discover, preferably in a foreign language so that the meaning of the words may be less likely to divert his attention from the movement; e.g., Saxon charms, Hebridean Folk Songs, the verse of Dante, and the lyrics of Shakespeare—if he can dissociate the vocabulary from the cadence. Let him dissect the lyrics of Goethe coldly into their component sound values, syllables long and short, stressed and unstressed, into vowels and consonants.
It is not necessary that a poem should rely on its music, but if it does rely on its music that music must be such as will delight the expert.
Let the neophyte know assonance and alliteration, rhyme immediate and delayed, simple and polyphonic, as a musician would expect to know harmony and counter-point and all the minutiae of his craft. No time is too great to give to these matters or to any one of them, even if the artist seldom have need of them.
Don’t imagine that a thing will “go” in verse just because it’s too dull to go in prose.
Don’t be “viewy”—leave that to the writers of pretty little philosophic essays. Don’t be descriptive; remember that the painter can describe a landscape much better than you can, and that he has to know a deal more about it.
When Shakespeare talks of the “Dawn in russet mantle clad” he presents something which the painter does not present. There is in this line of his nothing that one can call description; he presents.
Consider the way of the scientists rather than the way of an advertising agent for a new soap.
The scientist does not expect to be acclaimed as a great scientist until he has discovered something. He begins by learning what has been discovered already. He goes from that point onward. He does not bank on being a charming fellow personally. He does not expect his friends to applaud the results of his freshman class work. Freshmen in poetry are unfortunately not confined to a definite and recognizable class room. They are “all over the shop.” Is it any wonder “the public is indifferent to poetry?”
Don’t chop your stuff into separate iambs. Don’t make each line stop dead at the end, and then begin every next line with a heave. Let the beginning of the next line catch the rise of the rhythm wave, unless you want a definite longish pause.
In short, behave as a musician, a good musician, when dealing with that phase of your art which has exact parallels in music. The same laws govern, and you are bound by no others.
Naturally, your rhythmic structure should not destroy the shape of your words, or their natural sound, or their meaning. It is improbable that, at the start, you will be able to get a rhythm-structure strong enough to affect them very much, though you may fall a victim to all sorts of false stopping due to line ends and caesurae.
The musician can rely on pitch and the volume of the orchestra. You can not. The term harmony is misapplied to poetry; it refers to simultaneous sounds of different pitch. There is, however, in the best verse a sort of residue of sound which remains in the ear of the hearer and acts more or less as an organ-base. A rhyme must have in it some slight element of surprise if it is to give pleasure; it need not be bizarre or curious, but it must be well used if used at all.
Vide further Vildrac and Duhamel’s notes on rhyme in “Technique Poetique.”
That part of your poetry which strikes upon the imaginative eye of the reader will lose nothing by translation into a foreign tongue; that which appeals to the ear can reach only those who take it in the original.
Consider the definiteness of Dante’s presentation, as compared with Milton’s rhetoric. Read as much of Wordsworth as does not seem too unutterably dull.
If you want the gist of the matter go to Sappho, Catullus, Villon, Heine when he is in the vein, Gautier when he is not too frigid; or, if you have not the tongues, seek out the leisurely Chaucer. Good prose will do you no harm, and there is good discipline to be had by trying to write it.
Translation is likewise good training, if you find that your original matter “wobbles” when you try to rewrite it. The meaning of the poem to be translated can not “wobble.”
If you are using a symmetrical form, don’t put in what you want to say and then fill up the remaining vacuums with slush.
Don’t mess up the perception of one sense by trying to define it in terms of another. This is usually only the result of being too lazy to find the exact word. To this clause there are possibly exceptions.
The first three simple proscriptions* will throw out nine-tenths of all the bad poetry now accepted as standard and classic; and will prevent you from many a crime of production. “...Mais d’abord il faut etre un poete,” as MM. Duhamel and Vildrac have said at the end of their little book, “Notes sur la Technique Poetique”; but in an American one takes that at least for granted, otherwise why does one get born upon that august continent!
*Noted by Mr. Flint.
TALKING THE WALK POEM
*
Instead of describing what was around me, I described movement by describing my pace.
I chose to use small sentences and the word "me" a lot in my poem because I wanted to leave room for thought because that is what I was doing on my walk and I was concentrating on how the world was around "me".
I took advice from the assignment sheet and brought a notebook with me. On the way I jotted down things that I saw, or phrases that popped into my head when I looked at something. This was incredibly helpful when I sat down because it gave me many different ideas that I could start with.
My only challenge when writing this poem was that it took a lot of effort to keep focused on writing about one . . . my many thoughts throughout the walk.
It was difficult for me to describe fall without using clichés of fall. I eventually closed my eyes, and this helped me focus only on sound, touch and hearing.
I carried a notebook with me on the walk, and jotted down the things I saw that either reminded me of her or the things that were in the “color of the day”- pink, of course.
I took several pictures that later helped me write the poem as well. A picture in particular of another team’s shirt, worn by a woman walking in front of me, had on it a list of all the words that were inspiring to me during the walk, including “bravery, heroism, and healing”.
I made note of signs along the route of the walk that gave statistics about the number of women suffering with breast cancer today and information on prevention.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Poetics 3
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Poetics 3
The walking was the most difficult part to write a walk poem. However, I got a chance to walk soon. One night, I was drinking some beer at a bar, and suddenly, I thought it could be a good time to walk. I thought I could feel some special things because I was drunk. I walked short distance, but I could get many things in my mind.
When I wrote the object poem and the ekpharastic poem, I focused only the object and the artwork. However, while I was walking, my focus was moving. I felt old weather. I saw the streetlights, and my shadow. I heard my footsteps and the voice of a stranger. Finally, I met a tree and the sky. I wrote all of them. Actually, my emotion was changing followed the things I felt, saw, or heard. Also, there were many worldly thoughts in my mind. However, I tried to tie up my mind with one emotion when I wrote the actual poem. I would like to write main feeling and thinking that I got while I was walking. If I wrote all of the feelings and thoughts, my poet could be a book.
poetic- walk poem
Poetics 3
Poetics 3 - Brian Boyle
For my walk poem, I walked from my house on 17th and Arlington to Temple’s Tech Center on 12th and Montgomery. I have walked this route many times and that was part of the reason why I chose it. I wanted to find something deeper in the same walk I take everyday. I wanted to take notice of the things that I usually pass by without another thought.
I took advice from the assignment sheet and brought a notebook with me. On the way I jotted down things that I saw, or phrases that popped into my head when I looked at something. This was incredibly helpful when I sat down because it gave me many different ideas that I could start with. I settled on a pair of shoes that hung from the telephone wires. The more I thought about the shoes however, the more I realized that they weren’t just some inanimate objects. The shoes had history. They were on a pair of feet once that went places, and did things, only to reach their final resting place on the telephone wires.
This was very different from writing an ekphrastic poem because it is left up to the writer to create an original piece of art. The walk poem was more comparable to an object poem. Instead of focusing on just one object however, I took notice and focused on many objects and wove them all into a single story. It was a lot of fun and allows the writer to exercise a great deal of creative freedom.
I would absolutely recommend that a younger poet try his or her hand at a walk poem. It helps you to take notice and truly appreciate your surroundings while exercising your creativity.
Obelisk
Freckled sidewalks
beneath the shoes
that hang from wires.
They knew feet once.
Feet that leapt over left over puddles
as the half moon rippled in its reflection.
And oh the light!
Not by day but by night.
Like mini suns,
iridescent fluorescents
left no shadows,
no place unexplored.
Still the feet searched on…
Outside perpetual day and into the night
until the rain wrinkled their toes.
Where the streets were all one way,
the cats malnourished, strays,
and everything was in its right place.
Here, there was no stopping anytime,
no left turn,
no right way.
So the feet walked back.
Back through the junkyard of lights,
over the left over puddles,
and up the one way street.
Shoeless now the feet grew cold, colder, coldest.
And as the feet walked away,
the shoes told stories of past battles won and lost.
Urban obelisk.
Walk Poem Poetics
Poetics 3
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Poetics 3
This assignment was very interesting to say the least. So far, although I am not completely thrilled with the outcome of my first draft of my walk poem, I most enjoyed experiencing the process of the “walk” poem over all the other assignments thus far. I know that every single time I go for a walk, especially by myself, thoughts race through my head. I always think about my surroundings, contemplate how I am feeling and what is going on in my life. I especially enjoy walking at dusk. For my walk poem, I just recently got a puppy. This is the first dog that is all my own and my own responsibility and I thought that for my walk poem nothing would be better than taking Bear for his very first walk. Because dusk is my favorite time, I choose a gorgeous, serene night and enjoyed strolling around my neighborhood with my new pup. At first, all I could focus on was Bear’s well-being, but after some time I just let him lead the way. As multiple cars passed, I thought it was very special that everyone on the outside had no idea what a special moment this was and that this was Bear and I’s very first walk together. I was most inspired by the ignorance of my surroundings. Although it was clear that I was a girl walking a dog, no one truly knew how I felt and I was able to express that in my walk poem. My only challenge when writing this poem was that it took a lot of effort to keep focused on writing about one mf my many thoughts throughout the walk.
Poetics 3
Since fall is my favorite season I chose to walk around my hometown, Jenkintown. I knew that I would see more trees, and overall get a better view of fall, than if I were to walk around North Philadelphia. While I was walking around Jenkintown I carried a notebook with me and wrote down colors I saw, things I smelled and heard, and familiar places that reminded me of my childhood. Although Jenkintown is only 25 minutes outside of Philadelphia, it had a completely different smell, that’s what I noticed most, the smell. It was difficult for me to describe fall without using clichés of fall. I eventually closed my eyes, and this helped me focus only on sound, touch and hearing. By doing this process it let me create my own phrases and get rid of any clichés. I enjoyed writing this poem more than the previous poems, because I am passionate about Jenkintown and the season of fall.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Poetics 3
Monday, November 2, 2009
Poetics 3
The walk poem I wrote is named after Ellyn, a close family member who passed away this September after a brief battle with breast cancer and after losing her husband 7 weeks prior. After she was diagnosed in May, we made a team called the “Sole Mates” in her honor, but we had the honor of walking last weekend in her memory. The poem was written during the American Cancer Society’s Making Strides Against Breast Cancer Walk in