Post by wontbetakenalive on Mar 21, 2009 15:54:13 GMT
I found this online a few years ago, but can not find the original source.
#1: Talk to Animals (and Stars)
Write a poem addressed to some animal, object, place, or maybe even to a person, whom you don't know or don't expect to read this. You could write to your cat, to a lemon, to a cutthroat trout, to Madonna, to Martha Stewart, to the Empire State Building, or . ...
This sort of poem is called an apostrophe. William Blake's "The Tyger" and Walt Whitman's "To a Locomotive in Winter" are examples, as is John Keats's "Bright star, would I were stedfast," which is also a one-sentence poem.
If you like, you could follow Blake's example by composing your poem entirely of questions. Keep your poem between six and sixteen lines long.
#2 Shift Perspectives
Write a companion poem to the apostrophe you wrote for #1 , this time writing from the perspective of whomever or whatever you addressed the first time.
You may choose not to reveal the speaker's identity. That is, if you wrote #1 to an eagle, you would now write from an eagle's point of view, but might not let on that an eagle is the poem's speaker.
William Blake was a great perspective shifter, as in "The Chimney Sweeper," "The Little Black Boy," or "The Clod and the Pebble." And notice how Gwendolyn Brooks adopts the viewpoint and collective voice of seven young pool players in "We Real Cool."
Again, keep your poem between six and sixteen lines long.
#3 Take a Snapshot
Make a word photo of someone you know, not a formal portrait, but a quick candid shot of the person engaged in some characteristic activity--your brother playing with his Lego blocks, or your best friend serving a tennis ball, for instance.
Edwin Arlington Robinson wrote many poems that resemble snapshots, including "Aaron Stark." Maurya Simon's "The Fishermen at Guasti Park" also has such a snapshot feel about it, as does Lucille Clifton's "Miss Rosie."
In your snapshot include some reference to an animal, a color, a time of year, a tool, and an article of clothing. Be sure to include plenty of concrete, specific details. Avoid abstract or emotional language as much as possible. Focus on getting a clear image of the subject.
Your finished poem should be no more than 12 lines long.
#4 Use These Words
Write a poem of 4 to 9 lines containing the words "mustard," "piano," "elastic," "moat," "notorious."
Or, if you prefer, use the words "dimple," "horseradish," "wipeout," "organic," "cell."
Or, if you prefer, make a list of your own five words and use them all in a 4 to 9 line poem.
Or, for yet another variation, make a five word list and swap it with a partner. Then you can each make a poem using the other person's list
#5 Write a One-Sentence Poem
Write a poem that is six to twelve lines long and contains only one sentence.
John Keats's "Bright star, would I were stedfast" is a one-sentence poem, as are William Carlos Williams's "The Red Wheelbarrow" and Linda Pastan's "The New Dog."
Besides being six to twelve lines long, your poem should have two or more stanzas
#6 Write a No-Sentence Poem
Write a poem that is six to sixteen lines long and contains no grammatically complete sentences.
If you want, you can punctuate fragments as complete sentences.
Make your final poem six to sixteen lines long. Consider dividing it into two or more stanzas.
e.e cummings "r-p-o-p-h-e-s-s-a-g-r" could be an example, as could Chuck Guilford's "A Perfect Circle."
#7 Tap Your Internal Language
For this poem, begin with a free write. Free writing means just what it says: writing freely, without regard to spelling, grammar, paragraphing, or whether it makes any sense. For ten minutes, just write freely, in prose, whatever enters your mind.
Let your thoughts wander, and follow the ones you like. Pick the others up later if you like. Relax. Loosen the grip on your pen, enjoy letting your ink flow, shaping your letters, seeing your thoughts and feelings take shape on the page. Or, turn off your computer monitor so you can't see (and judge) your writing. When your mind slows, slow your writing speed. When thoughts come faster, pick up your tempo. Try getting your mind and fingers to work at the same speed, or let one race ahead and pull the other along.
Set your free write aside for at least a day; then come back and read it again. If you wrote at the computer, print a hard copy to mark up. Read the free write aloud. Note the rhythms and phrasing, the ebb and flow of images, thoughts and emotions.
What parts are essential? Striking? Vivid? What parts seem repetitious? Distracting? Strike out anything you want to get rid of and make a new draft.
Mark this new draft for stanzas and line breaks. Mark a double slash (//) for a stanza break or a single slash (/) for a line break. Then make a fresh draft using the stanza and line breaks you've marked out.
Read this aloud; again, noting the rhythms and phrasing, the ebb and flow of images, thoughts and emotions.
Now write out yet another draft to make the written poem suggest spoken sounds and rhythms as closely as possible. Share this with a partner or in a group.
#8 Tell a Story
Prose writers shouldn't have all the fun of storytelling. Sure, essays, short stories, and novels are where we expect to find stories, but poems also can tell stories effectively. From the earliest epics, right up to the present day, people have built poems from stories--sometimes fictional, sometimes true. Gary Snyder's "Hay for the Horses" is a poem that tells a story, as are Robert Frost's "Out, Out--" and William Wordsworth's "Strange Fits of Passion I Have Known."
Besides presenting vivid incidents, settings, and characters, stories can provide a sense of structure and purpose. To get started on a story poem, begin by quickly writing down a sequence of events from beginning to end. Then add some details, some characters, some tension, and some suspense. For more storytelling suggestions, see Writing a Story in Paradigm Online Writing Assistant.
For this poem, try one of the following:
1) Write about something that happened within the past week. This doesn't have to be a major, life changing event. Maybe you had to change a flat tire. Or perhaps you watched your pet snake shed its skin. Maybe you gave your garage a long overdue cleaning. The event itself doesn't matter so much as your telling of it. Just start right in and write through a quick draft to get started.
2) Write about something that happened at least five years ago. Pick an event you've had time to reflect on, something that stands out now as playing an important part in who you are today. As you write, don't tell why this event is important; just concentrate on getting your reader into the feel of actually being there. Provide plenty of concrete, specific details to make the story come alive.
Whichever of the above options you choose, keep the poem short, compressed, to the point--no more than 24 lines as an absolute maximum. You may want to write this out first as prose, then add line breaks and stanza breaks when you complete your first draft.
#9 Collect Fabulous Realities
Poets develop a sharp eye to observe, a sharp ear to hear--the sights and sounds of everyday reality, the texture of the quotidian, to find "infinity in a grain of sand, eternity in an hour" (William Blake). That is, they recognize that the ordinary dramas of everyday reality are not ordinary at all, but unique, unrepeatable moments charged with implication and significance, which can be captured and revealed in language.
Today, make a point of noting your surroundings just a bit more carefully than is customary. Watch the slush spray up from the wheel of a passing bus, the hot dog vendor threading her cart down the crowded sidewalk, the pedestrians bundled and wary, a sparrow singing on a leafless tree. Whatever you see or hear today, take special note, pause at least three times to write it down in a few sentences or phrases, as a "fabulous reality."
Then write your poem. Use one fabulous reality as the basis for the entire poem, or try combining and juxtaposing a few together in a single poem. Notice how Denise Levertov captures and connects fabulous realities in "The Metier of Blossoming."
Your final poem, after revisions, should be 14 lines long, or fewer.
#10 Write a "how to" Poem
You could write a poem telling how to eat spaghetti, how to ask for a date, how to sharpen a knife, how to let go of grief, or even how to write a poem. Or you could take it to extremes: how to prevent global warming, how to kiss a snake, how to become dust.
This can be serious or lighthearted, genuinely helpful or intentionally misleading. It may help to assume that your reader is completely naive and has no understanding of the process. William Carlos Williams's "Tract" could be considered a "how to" poem, as could David Wagoner's "The Principles of Concealment.”
Keep your poem between 9 and 21 lines long, with at least two stanzas.
#11 Begin, "When I . . .
This poem could grow out of a unique moment, like Walt Whitman's "When I Heard the Learned Astronomer." Or it could grow from a stage of your life, Like A. E. Houseman's "When I was One and Twenty." Or maybe you'd like to explore a repeated ritual, like "When I lift the trash can lid."
Some other examples are John Keats' "When I have fears" and John Milton's "On His Blindness."
The moment or incident you choose to explore matters less than the process of probing and unfolding. Delve into the "when" part, then work toward whatever resolution or closure feels appropriate.
Your poem should be between 8 and 16 lines, with at least two stanzas.
#12 Get Deductive
Deductive thinking moves from general principles to specific instances. Often, as in a thesis/support essay, prose writers make a general claim and then use specific details and examples to illustrate and back up their point.
Use this thought process, seriously or playfully, to structure your poem. Notice, for instance, how the 18th century poet Christopher Smart uses concrete, specific details to illustrate his general claims, made in lines two and seven:
from "Jubilate Agno"
[My Cat Jeoffrey]
For I will consider my cat Jeoffrey.
For he is the servant of the living god duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer. 5
For he rolls upon prank to work it in.
For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.
For this he performs in ten degrees.
For first he looks upon his fore-paws to see if they are clean.
For secondly he kicks up behind his ear to clear away there.
For thirdly he works it upon stretch with the fore-paws extended. . . . 10
Make your claim, serious or playful, and then fast write ten to fifteen lines of concrete, specific support.
Later, when you revise, you can use the original claim, or delete it and just keep the details. Or you might move the claim to the end, as a clincher, as in James Wright's "Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota."
#13 Start With an Epigraph
An epigraph is a short quotation placed at the start of a poem to help set the tone and focus your efforts. Almost anything can work if you find it inspiring: a quote from another poet, a few sentences from a news article, a memorable phrase spoken by a friend, a saying from Poor Richard's Almanack.
First, pick the quote you want to use, and then look at it as you write freely for a few minutes. Next, shape your free writings into a poem, placing the epigraph, with the author acknowledged, between the title and the first line of your poem.
Denise Duhamel's "Buying Stock" is a poem beginning with an epigraph.
Keep your poem between six and sixteen lines long.
#14 Follow a Metaphor
A metaphor makes a comparison, and in doing so shapes our perception. If we say, "Time is a river," we're noting a certain similarity between the two. Yet we know they aren't identical. We may mean that time is fluid, has currents and eddies, empties into some vast ocean, but not that it's composed of water. If we say, "Time is a stone," we may mean its silent, still, indifferent, but not that it's a mineral.
Because of this power to shape perception, metaphors are the very essence of poetry. While beginning poets may see metaphors as ornamental or decorative, more experienced poets use them structurally, sometimes extending and exploring a single metaphor throughout an entire poem, as Walt Whitman does in "A Noiseless, Patient Spider," or Seamus Heaney in "Digging."
You might also use metaphor to clarify central concepts or to connect parts of a poem. Notice how William Carlos Williams uses snake, flower, and stone metaphors in "A Sort of a Song."
Or you could think metaphorically about your poem's overall design:
This poem will be a thunderstorm: first a sunny sky with a few light clouds and some stirring of leaves, then a sudden drop in air pressure as the clouds join and build into thunderheads--driving rain, thunderclaps, lightning--brief but intense and frightening until the storm blows off east, leaving behind a few broken tree limbs, water flowing down the streets, the grass green and vibrant, the air moist and cool.
Write up an extended metaphor like the example above, describing a poem you'd like to write or are currently working on. Next, free write a few minutes, incorporating related images and details whenever appropriate. Then, fashion your free write into a poem of ten lines or less.
#15 Meditate
Pick a spot where you can write for a while without being disturbed. This could be a private spot where you are alone, or a public spot such as a coffee house or a park.
Begin by focusing on your immediate environment. Note the sights, sounds, smells all around you and start writing them down. As you do, let yourself get lost in your surroundings. You may want to use apostrophe, as in #1, or to shift perspectives as in #2
After four or five minutes, turn your attention gradually inward to your experience of the scene--to what it reminds you of or how it makes you feel, for instance. Don't try to control or direct this process, just tap into your internal language. And keep writing.
Now let go of the place entirely. Keep writing. Loosen your grip on the pen. Let your body relax, your eyelids get heavy. Write whatever comes.
As your energy wanes and you start to tire of writing, focus back onto the present setting. Take note again of the sights and sounds around you. Write them down briefly, even if they are the same ones your wrote down earlier, and then stop. Joy Harjo's "Fishing" has a strong meditative quality about it.
When you've finished, put this away for at least a day, without rereading it, then take it out and revise it into a poem of between 15 and 25 lines.
#1: Talk to Animals (and Stars)
Write a poem addressed to some animal, object, place, or maybe even to a person, whom you don't know or don't expect to read this. You could write to your cat, to a lemon, to a cutthroat trout, to Madonna, to Martha Stewart, to the Empire State Building, or . ...
This sort of poem is called an apostrophe. William Blake's "The Tyger" and Walt Whitman's "To a Locomotive in Winter" are examples, as is John Keats's "Bright star, would I were stedfast," which is also a one-sentence poem.
If you like, you could follow Blake's example by composing your poem entirely of questions. Keep your poem between six and sixteen lines long.
#2 Shift Perspectives
Write a companion poem to the apostrophe you wrote for #1 , this time writing from the perspective of whomever or whatever you addressed the first time.
You may choose not to reveal the speaker's identity. That is, if you wrote #1 to an eagle, you would now write from an eagle's point of view, but might not let on that an eagle is the poem's speaker.
William Blake was a great perspective shifter, as in "The Chimney Sweeper," "The Little Black Boy," or "The Clod and the Pebble." And notice how Gwendolyn Brooks adopts the viewpoint and collective voice of seven young pool players in "We Real Cool."
Again, keep your poem between six and sixteen lines long.
#3 Take a Snapshot
Make a word photo of someone you know, not a formal portrait, but a quick candid shot of the person engaged in some characteristic activity--your brother playing with his Lego blocks, or your best friend serving a tennis ball, for instance.
Edwin Arlington Robinson wrote many poems that resemble snapshots, including "Aaron Stark." Maurya Simon's "The Fishermen at Guasti Park" also has such a snapshot feel about it, as does Lucille Clifton's "Miss Rosie."
In your snapshot include some reference to an animal, a color, a time of year, a tool, and an article of clothing. Be sure to include plenty of concrete, specific details. Avoid abstract or emotional language as much as possible. Focus on getting a clear image of the subject.
Your finished poem should be no more than 12 lines long.
#4 Use These Words
Write a poem of 4 to 9 lines containing the words "mustard," "piano," "elastic," "moat," "notorious."
Or, if you prefer, use the words "dimple," "horseradish," "wipeout," "organic," "cell."
Or, if you prefer, make a list of your own five words and use them all in a 4 to 9 line poem.
Or, for yet another variation, make a five word list and swap it with a partner. Then you can each make a poem using the other person's list
#5 Write a One-Sentence Poem
Write a poem that is six to twelve lines long and contains only one sentence.
John Keats's "Bright star, would I were stedfast" is a one-sentence poem, as are William Carlos Williams's "The Red Wheelbarrow" and Linda Pastan's "The New Dog."
Besides being six to twelve lines long, your poem should have two or more stanzas
#6 Write a No-Sentence Poem
Write a poem that is six to sixteen lines long and contains no grammatically complete sentences.
If you want, you can punctuate fragments as complete sentences.
Make your final poem six to sixteen lines long. Consider dividing it into two or more stanzas.
e.e cummings "r-p-o-p-h-e-s-s-a-g-r" could be an example, as could Chuck Guilford's "A Perfect Circle."
#7 Tap Your Internal Language
For this poem, begin with a free write. Free writing means just what it says: writing freely, without regard to spelling, grammar, paragraphing, or whether it makes any sense. For ten minutes, just write freely, in prose, whatever enters your mind.
Let your thoughts wander, and follow the ones you like. Pick the others up later if you like. Relax. Loosen the grip on your pen, enjoy letting your ink flow, shaping your letters, seeing your thoughts and feelings take shape on the page. Or, turn off your computer monitor so you can't see (and judge) your writing. When your mind slows, slow your writing speed. When thoughts come faster, pick up your tempo. Try getting your mind and fingers to work at the same speed, or let one race ahead and pull the other along.
Set your free write aside for at least a day; then come back and read it again. If you wrote at the computer, print a hard copy to mark up. Read the free write aloud. Note the rhythms and phrasing, the ebb and flow of images, thoughts and emotions.
What parts are essential? Striking? Vivid? What parts seem repetitious? Distracting? Strike out anything you want to get rid of and make a new draft.
Mark this new draft for stanzas and line breaks. Mark a double slash (//) for a stanza break or a single slash (/) for a line break. Then make a fresh draft using the stanza and line breaks you've marked out.
Read this aloud; again, noting the rhythms and phrasing, the ebb and flow of images, thoughts and emotions.
Now write out yet another draft to make the written poem suggest spoken sounds and rhythms as closely as possible. Share this with a partner or in a group.
#8 Tell a Story
Prose writers shouldn't have all the fun of storytelling. Sure, essays, short stories, and novels are where we expect to find stories, but poems also can tell stories effectively. From the earliest epics, right up to the present day, people have built poems from stories--sometimes fictional, sometimes true. Gary Snyder's "Hay for the Horses" is a poem that tells a story, as are Robert Frost's "Out, Out--" and William Wordsworth's "Strange Fits of Passion I Have Known."
Besides presenting vivid incidents, settings, and characters, stories can provide a sense of structure and purpose. To get started on a story poem, begin by quickly writing down a sequence of events from beginning to end. Then add some details, some characters, some tension, and some suspense. For more storytelling suggestions, see Writing a Story in Paradigm Online Writing Assistant.
For this poem, try one of the following:
1) Write about something that happened within the past week. This doesn't have to be a major, life changing event. Maybe you had to change a flat tire. Or perhaps you watched your pet snake shed its skin. Maybe you gave your garage a long overdue cleaning. The event itself doesn't matter so much as your telling of it. Just start right in and write through a quick draft to get started.
2) Write about something that happened at least five years ago. Pick an event you've had time to reflect on, something that stands out now as playing an important part in who you are today. As you write, don't tell why this event is important; just concentrate on getting your reader into the feel of actually being there. Provide plenty of concrete, specific details to make the story come alive.
Whichever of the above options you choose, keep the poem short, compressed, to the point--no more than 24 lines as an absolute maximum. You may want to write this out first as prose, then add line breaks and stanza breaks when you complete your first draft.
#9 Collect Fabulous Realities
Poets develop a sharp eye to observe, a sharp ear to hear--the sights and sounds of everyday reality, the texture of the quotidian, to find "infinity in a grain of sand, eternity in an hour" (William Blake). That is, they recognize that the ordinary dramas of everyday reality are not ordinary at all, but unique, unrepeatable moments charged with implication and significance, which can be captured and revealed in language.
Today, make a point of noting your surroundings just a bit more carefully than is customary. Watch the slush spray up from the wheel of a passing bus, the hot dog vendor threading her cart down the crowded sidewalk, the pedestrians bundled and wary, a sparrow singing on a leafless tree. Whatever you see or hear today, take special note, pause at least three times to write it down in a few sentences or phrases, as a "fabulous reality."
Then write your poem. Use one fabulous reality as the basis for the entire poem, or try combining and juxtaposing a few together in a single poem. Notice how Denise Levertov captures and connects fabulous realities in "The Metier of Blossoming."
Your final poem, after revisions, should be 14 lines long, or fewer.
#10 Write a "how to" Poem
You could write a poem telling how to eat spaghetti, how to ask for a date, how to sharpen a knife, how to let go of grief, or even how to write a poem. Or you could take it to extremes: how to prevent global warming, how to kiss a snake, how to become dust.
This can be serious or lighthearted, genuinely helpful or intentionally misleading. It may help to assume that your reader is completely naive and has no understanding of the process. William Carlos Williams's "Tract" could be considered a "how to" poem, as could David Wagoner's "The Principles of Concealment.”
Keep your poem between 9 and 21 lines long, with at least two stanzas.
#11 Begin, "When I . . .
This poem could grow out of a unique moment, like Walt Whitman's "When I Heard the Learned Astronomer." Or it could grow from a stage of your life, Like A. E. Houseman's "When I was One and Twenty." Or maybe you'd like to explore a repeated ritual, like "When I lift the trash can lid."
Some other examples are John Keats' "When I have fears" and John Milton's "On His Blindness."
The moment or incident you choose to explore matters less than the process of probing and unfolding. Delve into the "when" part, then work toward whatever resolution or closure feels appropriate.
Your poem should be between 8 and 16 lines, with at least two stanzas.
#12 Get Deductive
Deductive thinking moves from general principles to specific instances. Often, as in a thesis/support essay, prose writers make a general claim and then use specific details and examples to illustrate and back up their point.
Use this thought process, seriously or playfully, to structure your poem. Notice, for instance, how the 18th century poet Christopher Smart uses concrete, specific details to illustrate his general claims, made in lines two and seven:
from "Jubilate Agno"
[My Cat Jeoffrey]
For I will consider my cat Jeoffrey.
For he is the servant of the living god duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer. 5
For he rolls upon prank to work it in.
For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.
For this he performs in ten degrees.
For first he looks upon his fore-paws to see if they are clean.
For secondly he kicks up behind his ear to clear away there.
For thirdly he works it upon stretch with the fore-paws extended. . . . 10
Make your claim, serious or playful, and then fast write ten to fifteen lines of concrete, specific support.
Later, when you revise, you can use the original claim, or delete it and just keep the details. Or you might move the claim to the end, as a clincher, as in James Wright's "Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota."
#13 Start With an Epigraph
An epigraph is a short quotation placed at the start of a poem to help set the tone and focus your efforts. Almost anything can work if you find it inspiring: a quote from another poet, a few sentences from a news article, a memorable phrase spoken by a friend, a saying from Poor Richard's Almanack.
First, pick the quote you want to use, and then look at it as you write freely for a few minutes. Next, shape your free writings into a poem, placing the epigraph, with the author acknowledged, between the title and the first line of your poem.
Denise Duhamel's "Buying Stock" is a poem beginning with an epigraph.
Keep your poem between six and sixteen lines long.
#14 Follow a Metaphor
A metaphor makes a comparison, and in doing so shapes our perception. If we say, "Time is a river," we're noting a certain similarity between the two. Yet we know they aren't identical. We may mean that time is fluid, has currents and eddies, empties into some vast ocean, but not that it's composed of water. If we say, "Time is a stone," we may mean its silent, still, indifferent, but not that it's a mineral.
Because of this power to shape perception, metaphors are the very essence of poetry. While beginning poets may see metaphors as ornamental or decorative, more experienced poets use them structurally, sometimes extending and exploring a single metaphor throughout an entire poem, as Walt Whitman does in "A Noiseless, Patient Spider," or Seamus Heaney in "Digging."
You might also use metaphor to clarify central concepts or to connect parts of a poem. Notice how William Carlos Williams uses snake, flower, and stone metaphors in "A Sort of a Song."
Or you could think metaphorically about your poem's overall design:
This poem will be a thunderstorm: first a sunny sky with a few light clouds and some stirring of leaves, then a sudden drop in air pressure as the clouds join and build into thunderheads--driving rain, thunderclaps, lightning--brief but intense and frightening until the storm blows off east, leaving behind a few broken tree limbs, water flowing down the streets, the grass green and vibrant, the air moist and cool.
Write up an extended metaphor like the example above, describing a poem you'd like to write or are currently working on. Next, free write a few minutes, incorporating related images and details whenever appropriate. Then, fashion your free write into a poem of ten lines or less.
#15 Meditate
Pick a spot where you can write for a while without being disturbed. This could be a private spot where you are alone, or a public spot such as a coffee house or a park.
Begin by focusing on your immediate environment. Note the sights, sounds, smells all around you and start writing them down. As you do, let yourself get lost in your surroundings. You may want to use apostrophe, as in #1, or to shift perspectives as in #2
After four or five minutes, turn your attention gradually inward to your experience of the scene--to what it reminds you of or how it makes you feel, for instance. Don't try to control or direct this process, just tap into your internal language. And keep writing.
Now let go of the place entirely. Keep writing. Loosen your grip on the pen. Let your body relax, your eyelids get heavy. Write whatever comes.
As your energy wanes and you start to tire of writing, focus back onto the present setting. Take note again of the sights and sounds around you. Write them down briefly, even if they are the same ones your wrote down earlier, and then stop. Joy Harjo's "Fishing" has a strong meditative quality about it.
When you've finished, put this away for at least a day, without rereading it, then take it out and revise it into a poem of between 15 and 25 lines.
