I want to point out two things in today's post. The first is Connemara Wadsworth's excellent poem: "Cows in the Apples" from Lily Poetry Review, which you can read by clicking the pic above. The second is why this poem is so excellent. Of course, as usual, space prevents me from doing more than grazing the highlights. This time, I'm not even going to try to do that. Instead, I want to focus on one aspect of the poem: adjectives. Typically, adjectives ruin a poem. Or threaten to. In this case, like an experienced lion-tamer, Wadsworth makes perennial poem-killers like: "perfumed," "angry," "sweet," and "wet" jump through flaming hoops of originality. How does she do this? First, she hazards an original conceit: breakaway, rebel cows. Second, she drops a surprise adjective: "obedient" in the first line and then proceeds to work against this strong word for the rest of the poem. Wadsworth also bundles each of the potentially banal adjectives with another poetic device. For "perfumed," she uses an alliterative connection to a strong verb "plant." For "angry," she couples the word with the unexpected "bees" which is, of course, a bit of anthropomorphizing. Finally, with "sweet" and "wet," she chooses to slant rhyme them in the closing line -- a line so well executed it should be quoted, along with its accompanying stanza: before they swagger down the road, happy drunks licking bits of sweet apple off wet lips. In general, the rule of murdering your adjectives is a good one. If, however, you can do tricks like this, then you are free to color with even the shortest of crayons. Categories All
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David M. Pitchford is an exceptional poet. He's written thousands of poems in varied forms on myriad themes, almost always with inventiveness and aplomb. If you click the picture above you'll go to his "Thousand Poem Challenge" blog, no longer current, but full of gems. Scrolling down the abandoned blog, one of the first brilliancies you'll find is: "Kentucky February Snowfall." Let's look at the opening stanza: deep blue rhythm of arctic winter grasps in chill fingers southern haven belies comforts, jails them in frosted winter world when to end? when to end? for warmth they pray though to whom none can certain say, they pray and curse and burn more fuel, wood, gas, coal smoke and steam escaping impotent to heat the world and its arctic sky snowing slow. Note that the entire stanza accelerates like a ball rolling down a steep hill, becoming more and more urgent, even verging on despair with the repeated "when to end? when to end?" and then coming to a perfect close on the word "slow." This is like gunning a Lamborghini to the edge of a death-cliff, then turning it around on a dime, no -- kissing it around -- to a stop, where it shines in moonlight. After this deft volta, Pitchford describes the first inklings of spring -- early signs of winter's death. These are stirrings in the mind and soul, mysteriously timed to and forever joined with the seasons, nature, and the earth. The second stanza is smooth and lyrical, slow and triumphant, leading to affirmation. The repetition of the word "vernal" in the second (final) stanza is perhaps an oversight or, more likely, an echo of the repetition-device in the first stanza, modulated to reflect the inevitability of rebirth and spring. Last notes: Pitchford's logopoeia here is flawless. Particularly in the first stanza. And the poem's closing word is perfectly chosen, don't you agree? Categories All "Roadworks" by Jeff Gallagher is a fine poem posted recently at Amethyst Review. Click the pic above to read it in full. What's impressive about the poem is the way that Gallagher uses language like a light by which to uncover the sacred ritual behind the ordinary world of things. The first stanza reads: The high priests in their hard hats stand round the ruptured gravel, numbed by the spell of an old tree that has wounded the pavement. Gallagher's use of alliteration in the opening line: "high", "hard", "hats" promotes a tone of austere authority. The construction workers are priests. As they repair the road, they become angels doing holy work: As the congregation of cars backs up along this pilgrims’ road, machines fill the cracks, the shrine is rolled flat and anointed with tar. Yet, they seem unaware of their true role. Despite their work, the closing stanza acknowledges that "the cracks will reappear" and that the forces that move nature and human impulse remain shrouded in Divine mystery. It's enough to participate and contemplate. And perhaps offer solace and repairs. Which is what a good poem does. Gallagher's beautifully sustained symbolism, congruent imagery, and careful diction creates a sense of sacred surrealism, a topic and aesthetic idea that I'll return to again in this blog. I consider this a gem of a poem and hope you do, too. Hit talk above or below to let me know what you think of this or any other poem or topic. Categories All "Delay in white corn" is a wish I'd wrote it poem from Camille Ralphs, a poet who continually challenges and fascinates me. The poem's from 2017 and it generally comes up at the top of Google when you search for Camille Ralphs poems. You can read the poem by clicking on Camille's picture above.
No way to do more in a blog post than to point out some highlights of the poem. Let's start with the most obvious feature: the "broken" lines and stanza form. Ralphs wants us to feel like we're looking at a relic, like we're reading a stone tablet that's been cracked, yet all the pieces are carefully preserved. She invites us to imagine this not only as a template for brilliant poetry, but for the universe itself. Despite the broken lines, the poetry flows and flowers as naturally and beautifully as... well, a field, of course! Let's look a little closer at a small sample; say, lines 2-4. They read: flecked thousandly w/ hacked stalks open waves of scrambled sod one uncut corn tract mills & grinds itself pale on the eye engraves Virtually everything here is new. Diction, meter, imagery, punctuation, grammatical construction. The only thing vaguely familiar is the setting, sentiment, and figurative language -- all of which are best described as archetypal. And still it all flows without flaw. These are the keys, I think, the starting keys anyway, to exploring Camille Ralphs's poetry. She's found a way to reinvent things that's quite exciting and inspired. Underneath the novel surface are deep, abiding rhythms of nature, human love, and the soul. I'll be blogging about her more in the future. Until then, let me know what you think of "Delay in white corn" by hitting talk above or below. And check out her book: Malkin. Marilyn Robertson's poem, "Low Tide," from California Quarterly Summer 2021, is a real gem that just might slip past your eye because it's only ten lines long, tucked in the upper left corner on page thirty-six of this excellent issue of a consistently finely edited and printed journal. What's eye-catching about this poem is the way Robertson gets the most out of every word and every poetic choice. It'd be a really long blog if I pointed everything right in this little poem, so I'll just touch on the highlights and you can tell me what you find that I left out. The first line of the poem is: "I like the moreness of time at low tide." Clearly, the word "moreness" is the flash in the line, but equally as smooth, if not as obvious, is the way Robertson connects her experience to time, rather than to the sea itself. She sees the retreating water as a gap in time where she can "stretch" and "sigh" and maybe build (or not build) a sand castle. She writes: Time for a stretch, a sigh Time for nothing perfect. The repeating of the first word "time" in consecutive lines is an obvious time-like device, like seconds ticking away. The next stanza describes sand, a blue bucket, and a pile orange peels in simple diction that emphasizes that it is the gap in time, not necessarily the particular specifics of place, that define the experience. The poem concludes: The nearness of far away. The sparkle of here and now. Here, the last word "now" forms a delayed, slant-rhyme with the "low" in "low tide" from the opening line. This links the idea of low tide and the freedom from time together in a declarative image: "The sparkle of here and now." The rhyme surprises and cements the sentiment simultaneously. Robertson has described a true transcendental moment. Standing beside the sea, the poet literally moves beyond time to a moment of pure creation and possibility. Further points of interest: the stanza form helps promote s sense of harmony and regularity like the coming and going of the tides, or the passing of time. Two tercets alternate with two couplets to complete a ten line poem that should have won someone's brilliancy prize. Really, I'm leaving out many of the most striking elements. Go read the poem and see what you find. California Quarterly Summer 2021 is a great read with a sixty pages of poems. There's even one by me, "Jar of Flowers," that I'd like your opinion on. Some have called it too sentimental. Speaking of which, watch this space for an announcement about my "Four Sea Poems" due to be published over at Kelp Journal. They should be out any day! Hit talk above or below to let me know your thoughts. Categories All
Poems have value. Every poem. Some are famous; some are known only by the poet who created them, but each and every poem is valuable, and some are priceless. I plan to use this space to talk about, explore, and sometimes formally analyze poems of all kinds. If there's a poem you've written or one you've read by another poet that you'd like me to talk about, or just read, use the talk link above or the button below and send it to me. If you want to send me a physical book or chapbook, use the contact form to request my snail mail address. I'll blog about famous poets like Sylvia Plath, Wallace Stevens, Hart Crane, and Gwendolyn Brooks. But I'll also write about poets you may not be so familiar with like Camille Ralphs and Vijay Seshadri. I'll also happily write about amateur and unpublished or seldom published poets. I read a lot of poetry journals, so if you publish your poems, I may happen on them and write about you. But there's always a better chance if you shout them out. I'll kick things off soon with a blog-post on Sylvia Plath, since my book The Ariel Method will be out next spring. From there, I'll go where inspiration leads. Sometimes I might write about my own writing process and my experiences in submitting and publishing my work. Other times, I may talk poetic theory, history, or general aesthetics. In any and all cases I'm as interested in hearing from you as I am in posting my own thoughts. I look forward to sharing the adventure with you! Categories All |