I don't see what's special
About creating without
Rules
Without boundaries or
Limits.
Anyone can do it
It's easy.
Noun noun verb adjective noun,
Forget syntax! Banish grammar!
Poetry has no
Use for punctuation.
Poetry is the crazy grandmother,
The one who wears
Young-lady perfume
Hoop earrings
Bright shirts you're
Too embarrassed to wear,
Who lets you eat
Cake for breakfast
Jump on the featherbeds
Until the springs shriek,
Rollerskate across
Clean white floors
And stay up all night.
You come home from
Grandmother's
With bright memories
Of boundless freedom
But with drooping eyes
And a stomachache,
Eager for broccoli again.
The older poems
are alright.
The Victorians,
Women with romantic
Names and romantic
Words arranged in perfect lines
With rhyming ends.
The modern stuff
Is too tenuous,
Too-general words
That could mean
Anything.
Are meant to mean
Anything,
Because I think the poet cannot decide on
Anything.
Black is white,
Love is death,
Death
Is
All
Because
Life
Is
Meaningless (snap, snap).
I suppose
If there's a narrative,
A straight line
The words are drawn to,
Instead of tumbling
Heaps
Of nouns and adjectives
Tossed together,
Word-salad,
Brain-food.
I suppose
A narrative
As a magnet
To keep the words
From wandering where they please
Would be acceptable.
Give me a story,
Words undisguised,
Just beautiful in themselves.
Isn't that better?
To build beauty with logs
That remain made of wood,
Blocks that are still
Numb stone and concrete,
Than materials varnished
With ambiguity,
Needless.
I'd rather a
Red scarf
Be a
Red scarf, something that
Warms,
And not a symbol of
Death (it strangles the neck)
Sexuality (its colour is red)
Freedom (it flaps in the wind)
Lies (it hides the bruises)
Or perfect truth (you tell me).
I don't like poetry.
I'm meat-and-potatoes,
With walls that are solid,
No hidden compartments
Secret doors
Primrose paths leading off
To gardens of verbose confusion.
I like novels,
Slabs of pages, hard covers
Resting heavy in my hand
Neatly on my bookshelf
Nestled in my purse.
Books I swim through
With the knowledge that
The shore on the other side
Will be one I can hold on to,
Pull myself onto,
Dripping and finished
And on solid ground.
Poetry itself is easy to read,
I slide down words
Polished smooth
With significance,
Greased with meaning,
Faster and faster,
Until I land with a bump.
I've come to the bottom
But my hands hold nothing
I remember nothing.
Meandering through novels
I can pick things up
Take them with me.
Buttons,
Branches,
Orphaned children destined
For heroism,
When I come to the end
I've a sackful,
And I am pleased.
Poetry
Is easy to write
And easy to read.
I suppose the reason
Must be
I prefer challenges
With a prize at the end
To simplicity
That leaves me
Empty-handed.
Poetry might mean nothing to you and it might even be easy, boring and pointless. The reason I write poetry is to express what I feel to be true. I mean come on, we are feed the same bs day in and day out. If you dont know how to feel about your emotions than you may get caught up in all the bs. I like your post and visit my blog if you want..
ReplyDeleteOh, I definitely see the uses of poetry.
ReplyDeleteI wrote this during a particularly boring English class at University.
I do prefer reading novels to poetry, but I recognize it as a useful art-form, a way to condense messages and emotions into a few lines instead of twenty chapters.
Hi
ReplyDeleteInterested in what you think...I write poetry,prose, fiction ...however ...I was trained as a painter and use words in much the same way...
Anyway, keep penning it out...I like your work ...someone who dares says poetry is easy to write intrigues me...I happen to agree.
Wow! I should bow down to you, awesome all-knowing writer-kiddie. You know all about novels and poetry and life and friends and everything else!
ReplyDeleteNot.
Writing bad poetry is easy, as you've demonstrated. Writing good poetry is much harder.
Come back when you've lived a real life.
Thank for demonstrating how difficult writing good poetry and displaying good manners can be, Anonymous.
ReplyDeleteI do not particularly like poetry, so I thought I'd try to understand it better by expressing my frustrations with it in poem form.
I'd thank you to keep any comments you might wish to post on my blog civil, polite, and mature.
Kiddie, if you want civil, polite, and mature, you should set the standard. So far, you haven't even come close.
ReplyDeleteAnd how about all those compliments for your creative writing story, huh?
ReplyDeleteGuess they didn't happen.
Do let us know when you manage to make a sale to a real publication.
Dear Anonymous,
ReplyDeleteDue to the fact that you refer to me as "kiddie", I'm assuming you're an older person, someone who probably considers him or herself an adult with more experience.
If that is the case, where, in your superior store of life experience, did you get the idea that it is morally acceptible to go out of your way to demean a younger, learning person, on their own site, when she has done nothing previously to arouse your ire?
Read the title: "A FLEDGLING Writer's Blog". I'm still learning, I know that, I know it will also be a long time until I make a sale.
If you don't like me or the way I write my blog, or if you believe that I've somehow been rude or mean-spirited, then kindly take the high road, be the better person, and show a crude, naive, upstart young whippersnapper like me the proper way to behave and DON'T POST ON MY BLOG.
If that is the case, where, in your superior store of life experience, did you get the idea that it is morally acceptible to go out of your way to demean a younger, learning person, on their own site, when she has done nothing previously to arouse your ire?
ReplyDeleteIllogical, as usual.
I never said that my posts were morally acceptable. They're not. They're a whack upside the head to you, with all *your* posts about being "a genius" and "being a Grand Master at 25" -- posts that tell me that you're not only painfully clueless, but oblivious to how obnoxious you sound.
You have the potential to be a decent writer, but not until you lose your "oh how precious I am" attitude.
Learn the difference between confidence and arrogance, young'un.
Oh, and lose the "user" attitude you have. You ask for critiques on that fantasy_writing group, but you give only a couple return critiques, and those the barest of the bare. Stupid move. Doing that alienates other people (something you're good at). It also means you aren't taking advantage of writing critiques, another stupid move. At this stage, the more you critique, the more you learn. If you don't have time for that, then you don't have time for real writing.
And yeah, I'll not read or post here any more. It's a favor to us both.
Bye, kiddie writer.