Posts Tagged ‘poet’

Somewhere among the dueling concrete

and greenery;

somewhere among the orchards

and the painted dollhouses of suburbia;

somewhere in the obnoxious cries of the gull,

the wail of the baby, the shoots of light

that grow out of the sun;

somewhere in the deep

blue-black forest of scrawls by the poet,

there is

hope.

“The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”- Sylvia Plath

from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

It’s funny how childlike and innocent my perception of the world, or at least the Natural world, becomes at the beginning of each season.

At the start of winter this year the snow was falling so lightly I thought it was almost dreamlike. Then winter got old. People began to grow tired of the now, especially as the weather turned foul. I tried to maintain a positive outlook, trying to see the beauty in storms and the whiteness of everything. But the sad thing about winter, when you get older, is that the season kind of loses it’s magic. You find you’d rather stay inside. I tried going out into the snow once. I only ended up being outside for fifteen minutes. Maybe the magic is also gone because fifteen minutes can feel like forever when you’re a kid.

Now winter grows into spring, and I find myself smiling as I step into a puddle by accident. I feel happy being able to see green plants now- tree branches no longer covered by snow. But I’m wondering how long this fascination will last. As a writer, observation of the surrounding world is important, but there’s this nagging sense that what I observe will get tiresome eventually.

I guess that the best option is to try and keep an open mind. To observe the changes that happen, and try to find the beauty in the heat waves and thunderstorms to come.

Wish me luck, and stay tuned!

“I may not be a whole person, but that isn’t going to prevent me from trying to be a good one.”- Original

You may be broken. That’s fine. Use that as momentum. Be the best that you can be.

“Words and eggs must be handled with care./Once broken they are impossible/things to repair.” ~Anne Sexton, from her poem “Words” in “The Awful Rowing Toward God”

Life, friends, is boring

only to those who make it so.

To complain of a friend’s plights

and gripes, and then complain

of being bored

marks a hypocrite

who has lost his inner child

who would see the great sea flash

and the blue sky and its cottons yearn

and dream

not of fantasy worlds,

but of the wonders here,

in his life.

-In response to Dream Song 14 by John Berryman

Who am I

but a vague mouth

preaching and conversing

to millions of unseen faces

who cannot see the teeth or tongue,

who can only imagine 

the redness,

the whiteness.

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.

Sylvia Plath reads her poem “The Stones”

Instead of posting my own poetry today, I decided to post a video of my favorite poet reading her poetry. This is one of my favorite poems by Sylvia Plath, and listening to her read her own poetry is a very haunting, beautiful experience.