Your poetry process - the making of a poem - Discussion

short version: almost as many processes as poems.

the long version:

1. a metaphor, as an idea, strikes me. it is developed over multiple revisions and typically not fully-framed in the first draft, but rather built brick-by-brick. in the example below, it is the idea of the creation of poetry not as something delicate like weaving a web, but rather something intense, like the work of a blacksmith.

language, naturally, would then be focused on the connection between the physical process and the creative process. form was engineered to be hammering, sometimes halting, occasionally jarring. it keeps a semblence of flow, but still feels like riding a bicycle with a warped wheel.

the title is both literal to the central metaphor and doubles nicely with an implication of victory. i consider it a semi-success, at best.

Smite

a spark borne of
a beating heart
glows to ember
leaps to flame

ignites the furnace
in the brain

that strange desire
like bellows’ breath

summons heat and
feeds the blaze
the kindling conjures
and obeys

black metals cast
into the fire
those molten words
drawn and bent

manipulated
to intent

between anvil
and hammer strike

some truth is forged
passion wrought
to fuse the language
and the thought

fever quenched and
tempered cool to
polish, grind ’til
finely honed

a pristine vision
soon intoned

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2. the poem flows in one sitting, without any deliberate, conscious search for theme or style, and basically presents itself fully formed as a series of images. it is interesting how much of our natures are revealed in these sort of "automatic writing" scenarios.

Libitina

she mourns her misfortune
with the requisite humor
of a whore or mortician,
one who sees life
and death as they are:
the tortured orgasm,
the pale sunken eye.

memories of misery
comfort her now,
a blanket of anguish
pulled over her head
until her voice echoes,
decays and fades
in an exquisite,
iniquitous void.

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3. form is deliberately manipulated to underscore the emotional thrust of the poem. in this one, a rather disgustingly self-pitying meditation on death, each stanza sort of winds down, forcing the pace to slow and attract emphasis, like a formal prayer.

A Postcard from Anhedonia

That old conspiracy
of time and space
will spirit me
soon away
from this place,
deliver me
to memory
and dirt.

Those precious appetites
I seek to sate
will kill my
true hunger
as I await,
in submission,
permission
to hurt.

Still comes the agony,
banal and base,
to grin and
condemn me
ever to face
a life diminished,
unfinished
and cold.

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4. form is constructed to move with the metaphor, in this case, life as a sort of high-wire danger. the poem relies on no rhyme, and instead depends on the rhythm to lend a breathless pace that sort of bounces along, until the last line, which is clipped short for obvious reasons:

Balancing Act

arms like wings,
i walk the wall,
a compass in
my stomach;

my eyes upon
the vista cast
at everything
and nothing.

it’s not enough
to not look down,
the mind must
dam the danger,

and those with
brittle courage find
no bottom to
the fall.

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5. i'll stop at 5 because i'm starting to bore myself, and you're probably way ahead of me on that. how about wordsworth's old stand-by "spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings..."

The Forecast Calls for Flurries

and what of you, dear
and that little world
you hold in your hand like
a snow globe paradise
of your own making?

when again, dear,
will you be shaking?

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i guess the point is that process is a malleable concept. it can be deliberate and organized, or take you by surprise, or haunt you around the edges of your brain until it smacks you in the mouth...

i don't really know if that's a point at all.

sorry i killed your thread, stew.

Stew21 said:

You were the nice man in the Ambulance who tried to help.

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only because i have a side business harvesting organs and selling them on the black market.

i have a lovely little strapless number.

you're in rare form tonight.

process is a tough thing for a lot of poets to confront.

it feels like part parlor trick, part alchemy and part dumb luck.

avoiding articulating it deprives the poet of a substantial amount of insight that can inform and improve future work, in my opinion.

if we subscribe to the socratic notion that the unexamined life is not worth living, then surely the unexamined poem is not worth writing.

Well I actually tell the whole poem to myself completely before I write it. I often do a lot of my developmental editing in my head, before putting it down on paper in a journal. And then I just write it.

Joining groups that give me prompts and make me write stuff always works. Other than that, I sit down or hover over the counter with a notebook and give it a go.

The process to me is simply writing, and then going back and tweaking.

Stew21 said:

I always said strapless was perfect for your bone structure.

I have a flag i can trade.

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William Haskins said:

you're in rare form tonight.

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Stew21 said:

It's twu. It's twu.
You are the only one seeing it. Your word against mine.

Also.
I'm not a wabbit. I need some west.

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William Haskins said:

process is a tough thing for a lot of poets to confront.

it feels like part parlor trick, part alchemy and part dumb luck.

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lol! My flag is white and I am too dippy to even post even the least visceral account of my reactions, lately. Let me see if there's some monkey balm in the root cellar (no, not a jar of peaches).


My process has recently mutated, and I fear the worst. So I don't feel it would be productive to discuss my particular (peculiar) methods at this time.

Great thread though.


I've got some really nice 32 lb cotton rag and a lovely uni-ball. Surely that will thaw my heart??!!!




ETA: feeling like a freaky alchemist is my favorite part -- kinda like the afterglow!!

well this done turned fun.

Generally if its a short poem of around 32 lines, and has no narrative (meaning it's an elaboration of how I feel) it requires fewer passes than if I were to write something like I wrote last night -- an anti-haiku chain picture book. And so its a matter of finding spelling errors and correctly spelled but misused words.

I also tend to go for natural rhyme, that's rhyme that would exist as it would flowing naturally from speech. If I find myself coming up with a rhyme, yet it feel contrived (a problem I often have trying to force one), I try to tell myself "don't force yourself to rhyme."

Usually I find ideas from a similar process for my short fiction, that is through finding a theme. Then through this theme I must have an exception. This provides an arc that would drive the plot.

And of course I can only tell myself in my head the short ones. The long narrative poems require a slightly different process. Its almost like a game of seeing how much of the story I remember. Comes with a complementary imaginary camp fire.

I sit down at my computer and start to write lines. All these lines I guess are guided by my emotion and mood at the time, but only some of them actualy manages to express that feeling or mood. I will write many poor lines until a line comes up that strikes me as meaningful. Usualy more of these lines will follow immediatly. Then I start a new document and tinker around until I find the real motif hidden behind it all. If I find the real motif for the poem more lines will cluster and become lively around it whilst others unfit for it dies and are removed. Usualy all of this involves quite alot of my head resting on the desk in front of the computer trying to concentrate and conjure appropiate images.

If I can't find any similes or metaphores that are truly descriptive then I will just save what was written in Windows notebook. I save all that I write that way. Unfortunately I am not good enough that I have the language and power to finish every poem I write. But many times I have been trying to write about the same motive for months (without me knowing it) so the lines saved can come in handy. Things that I have thought of before that didn't fit often fits now because the right motive is there, or the right perspective or mood is there. I will routinely scan documents to see if there are some good lines. I think that many different motives is always in my subconscious. Many different lines come up that are for different poems because of that. My job is to concentrate on one motive and one poem and to use my various faculties of judgement and taste as to what lines serves that motif and that poem.

The realy interesting part would be to have the process nailed down of how to guarantee a produce of the most powerful and striking similes and metaphore. Maybe that is not possible and one must just sit for a long time, desire them, and try to write. They are almost like people with their own free will. I try not to force them upon me or they will refuse to show up. I give them a little room to escape so that they can decide if what I am doing is interesting enough for them to show up or not. In other words, if I realy am struggling to come up with an image nothing will happen. I must back down a little bit, relax and let my mind wander so that I don't come to them but them to me. It's all very whimsical. But it is good it is still a mystery of how it all works.

Every new line change any prior line. I guess that is a poem becoming.

Stew21 said:

How do you do it? What is your starting point, how do you choose the form (if any), how do you find the music, the metaphor, the voice of a thing? When do you decide it is ready to be seen? Or, when do you decide you need to seek help in the form of critique? What happens to the ones you don't share?

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Wow. This is hard. All valid questions, but the answers are as slippery as wet soap.

I've never thought of it broken down like this, and will admit to some angst in doing so.

I do prefer to start on paper. Something about the hand/mind connection is more free and familiar. But to define 'where' they originate... not sure. It would be easier to list the things that squelch those thoughts from forming than to describe how it happens. If I'm not too stressed, too upset, too sleep deprived, too busy, too long without 'quality time' with my wife (just keepin’ it real)... they might come. I enjoy solitary time and thought--would go so far as to say I require it--and that's when I typically get ideas. But I don't have to be alone for that to happen. It can happen anywhere, as long as I’m not fully occupied with immediate concerns.

I write as much as I can down initially. Occasionally it is most of the poem, but more often it’s notes on the concept, or metaphor, or words and phrases that might find their way into the poem. It may sound odd, but then I wait to see if the poem will insist upon being. If it won’t leave me alone, I go back and work with it. By then, the idea is more developed in my mind, and I begin to put it on the screen. I look for a rhythm to emerge in the words and phrases and once I have a feel for that, the poem is moving.

“The voice of the thing”—depends. What is the poem, or the line for that matter, trying to emote? That’s my general guide to any intentional inflections I clumsily try to employ and to the words or phrases I choose. Other than that, I think my voice is perhaps too even. I know I lean to the mawkish and write a lot of love, loss, and lost love… hope to grow out of that. I don’t feel skilled enough, or nuanced enough to address this further. I may have missed the point altogether.

As for form, I find this one of the most challenging aspects of writing poetry. Is it subjective terminology? In one sense, it has to be. In another, it cannot be. In the former, no form, or any form, is still form. In the latter, some kind of structure that pervades all or most of the poem is present. Then there’s all the land between, which in the end (in the absence of an omniscient judge dispensing universal authority) leaves us more on subjective ground than not, imho. That said, I do prefer structure in my own poetry when possible. By structure, I mean some measure of consistency that is identifiable, yet with varying degrees of flexibility in the hands of the poet. This has been an acquired taste, and is purely a personal one that I am still learning. I’ve written many poems without heed to any form other than that which fell on the page, and still do. But, if the first two or three lines emerge, and I sense a form (traditional or created) that looks promising, I will work hard toward that end. If not, no sweat… the poem says otherwise, and at some point before madness… I agree it is right. Variety is the spice.

“Ready to be seen”—as soon as I have the gist of the poem written—the unpolished, raw draft—I take a few hours away from it, then come back an read it, tweak it, and then ask someone to read it (90% of the time, my wife). What is confusing? is usually my question. What does it say to you? What does it make you think about, or feel? More revising. If it’s one I want to hone further, simply need some great advice, or get wider feedback on, I post in critique.



This is the story of one or two slightly less than awful poems. whose many kin folk have been condemned, and now reside in digital hades. Great thread Stew, and yes, this was as hard as writing a poem.

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I think it always starts for me with an event, a conversation, something I saw on the television, world news, even a song (There's a violin piece out of an old PS1 video game that forces me to write poetry every time I hear it. lol.), an old photograph or even a color combination in a catalog that really strikes my fancy, a car that I drove by with a funny license plate, or that maybe was missing a hubcap. Anything, but there's always something very present that starts it. I feel that I don't want to write poems just to write. I want to write something meaningful, so it starts with something that convinces me 'this has meaning, this is worth writing about'. I may not notice it right away, but it nags at me until I realize 'there's something I need to say.'

I become conscious of a line of poetry suddenly, either I scribble it down on a scrap paper, type it quickly onto a sticky note in my phone, or in those fun instances when I'm driving(why must this ALWAYS happen to me when I'm driving?!), cue up the voice recorder on my phone at the first available traffic light, so I don't forget it before I get home. (This is the sole reason I keep the voice recorder on my cell on the home screen. lol).

Maybe I get hit with the first line of the poem, maybe the end, maybe a line from dab smack in the middle. Sometimes it's not a line of poetry at all, but a thought of 'I should write a poem about that.' Recently I wrote a poem called 'Fireflies' which started with a conversation that led to the thought 'I should write a poem about the illegal immigration issue'. Of course, it seems that a lot of people don't think of immigration at all when they read Fireflies, and that's completely fine, but that's the thought that triggered that poem, this idea that illegal immigration has been on the decline since the Bush Administration, and goes down every year, but there's still this fuss about building fences: 'what they won't tell you is that the (illegal) aliens are no longer coming'. From there it became something more personal, but the personal touch is important to connect to the larger issues. It's so easy to say 'that has nothing to do with me', but it does. If you live in the world, everything has something to do with you.

My process has changed a lot between what I used to do, and what I do now that I've returned to poetry. I used to just sit down with a keyboard or scrap paper (irrelevant which, honestly), take a deep breath and go. I didn't know what I was thinking about, but the words revealed themselves out of a sort of meditation. I got some good pieces out that way, but my best were always more deliberate. They come from these sort of captured moments - another poet from somewhere in the middle east daring me to 'write about your country'(which was brilliant, because he saw that there was a boundary I wasn't crossing in my work. I pulled some really great work out of that dare. lol), a discussion about how much easier it is to talk to people online because they're faceless, the scent of a salt marsh that reminds me of my childhood, yet another shooting that wasn't important enough to make the front page... It could be anything.

Sometimes I just hit on a subject and say 'I should write about this subject.' A few days later, the words suddenly fall out. There's a pretty minimal initial editing process that mostly involves me making funny faces and hand gestures at a computer screen, because those things are just connected to the words in my head. Then I try (and often fail) to read the poem without the hand gestures. That's the hard part. Some poems I have the hardest time translating, because 'on the page, they can't see me shaking my fists. How do I convey that with just the words?'

Then, I look for other opinions, see if it works, see how much of my wild gesticulating has gotten lost in translation. lol. Have I lost entire stanzas to hand gestures? And, if I have, can I convey that with just tone? Has the lack of funny faces made a huge, gaping hole in the middle somewhere?

After getting some feedback and stepping away from it for a bit to get some perspective, I may do a partial, rough recording of the stanzas that seem to lack something on the page, play it back a few times to see where it's not working, make some fixes. Then, a rough recording of the whole piece, maybe even two or three times, to confirm I'm not tripping over my own tongue.

Last minute tweaks are about trying to make the text on the page look as close to how it sounds out loud as possible. That might be extra line breaks, removing line breaks, it might be adding italics, removing them, fiddling with the typography, or unfiddling with it, until I'm satisfied that I've managed to get what's on the page as close to what's in my ears as possible.

Then, I finalize it with a solid recording ...when no one is home to look at me funny, or make noise that will make me have to start over. lol.

And I think I might have repeated myself in there somewhere, but there's a lot of repetition in the process, so that's oddly appropriate.