Posts Tagged ‘language’

Here’s a plank to think.

A response to an oral: an assembly.

Assemble quickly,

silently, or not so.

Better to think than preach, so they say.

So they say there’s a way. Even in.

An even you don’t. You catch.

An assault of lights.

A wink. A thousand brights. Yellow globes of strobe.

Yellow burning white.

Little planets.

Comets. Of whirring and flash

there is no worry.

And so to stick to mind.

And so stick a tongue, so stick a lip;

there are worse, and there are white lights.

And there are purses, there are people.

Where there are purses, there are people.

Mind not the blinding, the light

from up.

Think aloud.

“So they say.”

You say.

And there’s applause.

The prominent gray

white and blue of the supermarket gives

     way to your familiar faces.

We confront each other with casual friendship.

The words

from your tongue

      are the usual sharp, sour curses mixed in

            to everyday dialogue.

your beards are genitals

sewn onto your faces.

One of you

       is still pubescent, though

      really having just entered adulthood.

We talk.

One of you barely whispers that I’m “…a

       pussy, right?”

One of you comments how there will be nothing to do but

“drink and fuck” where I’m going.

     I almost want to say 

     “just like you do?” and bring up your girlfriends.

What do they see in you?

      And you can go breathe in cancer,

meanwhile I can feel my heart

is ten times heavier than both of yours,

          ten times larger.

That nonchalance,

      that callousness,

that you two possess

is not something I wish to be cursed with,

and I feel more mature than both of you.

     I feel older-

     responsible.

I unwittingly comprehend,

      I have something to live for.

It’s with everyone.

It’s worse with you.

 

Some disconnect between

brain and tongue and larynx,

syllables stack onto each other,

come out as just sounds.

 

There are little to no words

in my brain, blackness is it.

Being near you short circuits my speech.

 

I’m always searching for an answer

or reply with strangers.

You’re not a stranger,

you just make me feel strange.

 

I can’t think of anything to say,

though I want to be witty,

I want to sound smart.

 

My mouths opens and closes

like I’m imitating a fish. I turn red.

 

It’s with everyone.

It’s the worst with you.

Writing is my Gift.

May I ask, what’s yours?

Let us resolve- not

to keep these ‘yond locked Doors.

when sun beams

brown to bronze

bronze and yellow

clock yawns ticking tears stick

sleep and grog wake with steam

wreath wake with sniff

eggs out basket yolk to china

table light bronze yellow

shimmer shimmer eyes

perk up perk up mug

drip sip dribble spoon

knuckles chime hold place

lean so stiff

slurp and blink

hand down on table yellow

bronze and yellow

because sun is greeting

A Voice is the thing to use-

without Pen at hand.

A Voice will raise the Truth,

a Pen will make It grand.

gold sun could lock

an eye blink orange

lozenge of trees break to fence

green cones spindles undulate wind

black streaks crows in streams geese

meadows pale gold flat iron yellow

white teardrops splash pile

trickle trickle

away


Today I’ve written for you what has been deemed a “Language Poem”, popularized by Gertrude Stein.

The intent here is to focus not on the meaning of words, but the way they sound.

affluent

greenback paper nylon

dye presidents faces portraits

oil in

they’re not

historical

not

behind the scenes

slapping bills

sound

rolling green

not remembered

shadows grinning

still

A few things I’ve learned from other poets and my own experience:

  • Experiment with form and style– try new things, and find which fits best with which poem. There’s also nothing wrong with trying to emulate one of your favorite poet’s style.
  • Verb your nouns– “lip”, “trash”, and “access” are examples of this.
  • Drop your articles– avoid use of “the” and “a” as much as possible
  • Concrete conquers flowers– concrete descriptions are far more interesting and adaptable than vague adjectives- they are much more visual and give more meaning to your words, as well as making what you’re saying more understandable for readers. Adjectives should be used sparingly.
  • Writer’s Block happens– do whatever you think will get rid of it.
  •  Read your finished poems out loud– reading out loud allows you to check for mistakes, and printing  physical copy before hand and reading that is always a good idea.
  • Have someone else read your poems– readers rarely have the luxury of being able to ask the poet what he or she means, you can leave the meaning of your poems up to interpretation, but you want to make your main message as clear as possible so no one pulls a conclusion out of left field.
  • “It’s the poet’s job to know everything.”– whether it be anatomy, mathematical terminology, or various plants, a poet should refine his or her knowledge of many, many subjects
  • There’s poetry in EVERYTHING– from the most mundane tasks to the grandest events, famous poets have covered both, as well as many things in between.

I heard a Fly buzz – when I died –
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air –
Between the Heaves of Storm –

The Eyes around – had wrung them dry –
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset – when the King
Be witnessed – in the Room –

I willed my Keepsakes – Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable – and then it was
There interposed a Fly –

With Blue – uncertain – stumbling Buzz –
Between the light – and me –
And then the Windows failed – and then
I could not see to see –

I don’t know why exactly I decided to post this, maybe it’s because I recently re-watched John Green’s intro to, exploration of, and analysis of Dickinson on his Crash Course segment on YouTube, and I thought this poem was particularly interesting.

So, I posted it here for all you poetic people to take a look at and observe all the various and masterful techniques which Emily Dickinson applies.

Modernist, though she may not be, her use of language is extraordinarily well-crafted and I regret not having read more of her writing. So I took it upon myself to right this mistake by not only recently acquiring a collection of her poems, but also by posting this here.