Melody Is Memory

     All of us understand that poetry is a mode of speech defined by memorable words.  Prosody is the science of making verses easier to recall, either through concision or repetition.  Even if one were to argue that "forgettable poetry" is not an oxymoron a tautological question of relevance arises:  "If no one cares then who cares?  If a tree falls in the forest does anybody give a damn?"

     As with all speech, poetry requires an audience.  The vast majority of people today cannot recite a stanza written in this millennium but can sing thousands of contemporary lyrics.  As a practical matter, poetry is less a mode of speech than singing.  Those concerned about adding the medium of music will bear in mind that long before the 20th century disappearance of spoken verse its most successful example was Shakespeare's theater.

     What aspect of song penetrates our memories most efficiently?  A drum beat might meet with blank stares.  A chord progression might not be identified but two or three notes can spark recognition and many to sing along.  Verse being a participation sport, this defines modern poetry just as "verbatim" has defined it from its inception.

     Technically challenged poets speak vaguely of "musicality", a term that provokes cringing and eye rolls from geeks.  The truth is that poetry needs more than facsimile;  it requires actual music to attract an audience.  (And, perhaps, a readership.  Royalties from all contemporary poetry books combined wouldn't add up to those from one Leonard Cohen or Bob Dylan lyric collection.)

      Content regents and corazoners will insist that the profound and poignant will attract attention [sooner or later].  All the evidence points to a very different conclusion.  Melody is everything in song and, thus, verse.  Allow us to demonstrate with two piercing examples:

      As with so many of her songs, "Ain't Life a Brook" (1980) is thought provoking and heart rending.  This song includes one of the greatest throwaway phrases of the last half century.  However, the rambling melody and accentual dimeter is not something you will sing in the shower.  Or remember at length.

I watch you reading a book
I get to thinking our love's a polished stone
You give me a long drawn look
I know pretty soon you're going to leave our home
And of course I mind
Especially when I'm thinking from my heart
But life don't clickety-clack down a straight line track
It comes together and it comes apart
You say you hope I'm not the kind
To make you feel obliged
To go ticking through your time
With a pained look in your eyes
You give me the furniture, we'll divide the photographs
Go out to dinner one more time
Have ourselves a bottle of wine
And a couple of laughs
And when first you left
I stayed so sad I wouldn't sleep
I know that love's a gift, I thought yours was mine
And something that I could keep
Now I realize that time is not the only compromise
But a bird in the hand could be an all night stand
Between a blazing fire and a pocket of skies
So I hope I'm not the kind
To make you feel obliged
To go ticking through your time
With a pained look in your eyes
I covered the furniture, I framed the photographs
Went out to dinner one more time
Had myself a bottle of wine
and a couple of laughs
And just the other day
I got your letter in the mail
I'm happy for you, its been so long
You've been wanting a cabin and a backwoods trail
And I think that's great
I seem to find myself in school
It's all okay, I just want to say
I'm so relieved we didn't do it cruel
But ain't life a brook
Just when I get to feeling like a polished stone
I give me along drawn look
It's kind of a drag to find yourself alone
And sometimes I mind
Especially when I'm waiting on your heart
But life don't clickety-clack down a straight line track
It comes together and it comes apart
'Cause I know you're not the kind
To make me feel obliged
To go ticking through my time with a pained look
In my eyes
I sold the furniture, I put away the photographs
Went out to dinner one more time
Had myself a bottle of wine
Had a couple of laughs
And wasn't it fine

      Contrast this with John Prine's child-like, tragicomic "Christmas in Prison" (or almost any other Prine song), published in 1973:

      Prine's trademark trinaries underscore the melody, creating an earworm.  His lyrics, while evocative and moving, are not near Ferron's in depth but we, individually and collectively, carry them into the future far more readily and easily than Ferron's work.

It was Christmas in prison
And the food was real good
We had turkey and pistols
Carved out of wood
And I dream of her always
Even when I don't dream
Her name's on my tongue
And her blood's in my stream
Wait awhile eternity
Old mother nature's got nothing on me
Come to me
Run to me
Come to me, now
We're rolling
My sweetheart
We're flowing
By God
She reminds me of a chess game
With someone I admire
Or a picnic in the rain
After a prairie fire
Her heart is as big
As this whole goddamn jail
And she's sweeter than saccharine
At a drug store sale
Wait awhile eternity
Old mother nature's got nothing on me
Come to me
Run to me
Come to me, now
We're rolling
My sweetheart
We're flowing
By God
The search light in the big yard
Swings round with the gun
And spotlights the snowflakes
Like the dust in the sun
It's Christmas in prison
There'll be music tonight
I'll probably get homesick
I love you
Goodnight
Wait awhile eternity
Old mother nature's got nothing on me
Come to me
Run to me
Come to me, now
We're rolling
My sweetheart
We're flowing
By God

          Again, the difference is prosody, yes, but mostly melody.  So what can we do with this?

To be continued.

Poetry in Three Minutes

      This is a quick and dirty introduction to poetry basics.  A slightly more comprehensive approach is "What You Need To Know About Poetry".

      You may want to pause the video in places and review each one a few times.

      By clicking on the titles ("Definition", "Basic Scansion", "Sonics", "Performing") you can read the underlying articles for each topic.

       If you have questions please feel free to post them below.

Learning Poetry - 1. Definition

     The first three minute video establishes the one word definition for poetry, regardless of epoch, culture, language, theme, genre, or form.

Learning Poetry - 2. Basic Scansion

 

      Here, one is introduced to the elements of meter.

 Learning Poetry - 3. Sonics

 

      At the root of poetry is sound.

Learning Poetry - 4. Performing

 

      The whole point of this mode of speech is performance.

 

Learning Poetry - 5:  Free Verse

       Free verse (not to be confused with prose poetry or prose qua poetry) and its niche.

Learning Poetry - 6. Rhyme

     The repetition of sounds in related positions.

 


      We hope you enjoy this series and find it helpful.

Earl Gray, Esquirrel

 

 

Contexts

Law of Poetry #72

     Even when English language poetry was alive it benefited from context.  Shakespeare used plays not to change the English language, which he certainly accomplished, but to attract and entertain an audience.  Contemporary dramatic poetry isn't "a thing" but there are other ways one can find listeners.  In order of current and potential success these would include:

1. Song Lyrics

2. Humor/Parody

3. Narrational Poetry

4. Embedded Poetry

5. Occasional Poetry

Law of Poetry #171

     If you have social media accounts, ask yourself:  "How often have I Shared [on Facebook] or Retweeted [on Twitter] a stranger's contemporary poem with my [non-poet] friends?"  Other than songs and jokes, that is.

     We asked readers in four different active forums--novice, expert, blog, and social media--to imagine a serious poem (not song) that they might pass on to friends.  No response.  Not only could people not write an interesting poem, they couldn't even imagine one.  This is to say that not only is English language poetry dead, but we can't envision it being alive.  (N.B.:  In non-anglophone demographics people cannot fathom a society where poetry is dead, a country where few can recite a stanza written this century.)

Law of Poetry #141

     Just as it is failed artisans who blame their tools, only failed poets will blame their audience.  It is especially absurd when that audience doesn't exist.  If poetry is to revive, there needs to be well crafted verses of interest.  More than that, though, it needs to overcome the negative stereotype of what Leonard Cohen called "other forms of poetry advertised as poetry":  artless ranters, corazoners, linebreakers, cryptocrappers, et cetera.

     Novelists, playwrights, and journalists do not present their work as "prose".  Similarly, poets need to categorize their work by genre (e.g. comedy, drama, news, political commentary, romance, sports, horror, etc.), not mode of speech (i.e. prose versus poetry).

     In the coming days we hope to address ways to use context to attract--or at least to not alienate--an audience.

What about readership?

   Poetry is a mode of speech, predating the advent of writing by millennia.  People read poems with a view toward quoting, if not performing, them--in their imaginations, at the very least.  Listening and reading were a chicken-and-egg scenario, but in this case hearing came first, anthropologically at the macrocosmic level and chronologically in microcosm.  Reading a poem allowed us to, among other things, examine why it worked so well when we heard it.

    Put simply, if there is no audience, how can their be a readership?  Why would anyone want to study failure?

Timely Versus Timeless

Earl Gray's 153rd Law

     Most poets keep their art and their politics separate.  We have different blogs for each.  Recently, a critic demanded to know why we pursue pressing issues in prose but not in poetry.  It's a fair question, at least until we consider the difference between those two modes of communication.  One spreads out in two dimensions, going viral as it spreads from one venue to the next.  The other spreads in four dimensions, as it ascends into listener's memory and is carried verbatim into the future.

     Without degrading professional standards we can write a news article in the morning, post it, and see it picked up by social or print media immediately.  It is part of that 24- or 36-hour news cycle.  

     Prose is timely.  You can get up the next morning and start all over.

Earl Gray's 42nd Law.

     To write a poem worthy of the name may take, on average, a month.  Find le mot juste, satisfying demands of sound, sense, cadence and form.  Performing it may require weeks of additional practice and film editing before uploading it to, say, YouTube.  Once presented, it needs to build an audience, one who can quote it on appropriate occasions.  Were poetry alive, this may take another month.  Given current reality, it may take a generation or more before enough listeners can inspire enough other listeners to hear and absorb your verses.  Once they do, you will have a demographic affected by your words, one that might pass them on to future generations.

     In any event, a poem about the current state of public affairs won't have an impact until well after the next election, if ever.  If it does, though, it can cease and go on preventing inequities forever.

     Poetry is timeless, even though its effect might not begin until long after your final sunrise.

Anti-Aesthetics

     If you've ever turned on a television or radio you will know that beauty sells, regardless of whether it has significant content or not.  If you add up the successes of prose with linebreaks--all none of them--you will see that even the most profound thought disguised as poetry fools no one.  One might think this would be self-evident:  those bright enough to appreciate the subtleties of meaning would certainly be clever enough to know that these can be obtained elsewhere with infinitely more artistry.  Thus, there is no audience (not only due to the lack of rhythm or sonic appeal) and readership is limited to those trying to sell, not necessarily buy, musings of similar "quality". 

     Even with $253,000,000+ behind them, the Poetry Foundation, established in 2003, hasn't produced a single poem that you, I, or others have found memorable--certainly not one with any performance appeal.  You can't buy readers, let alone listeners.  How many times have you seen anyone quote from a poem in Poetry Magazine this century?

     There is a Goth aspect to postmodernism.  It isn't merely devoid of aesthetic merit, as one expects from anyone too lazy to study prosody.  It is Convenient Poetics on steroids.  Incapable of beauty, the purveyors of cryptocrap become imbued with a puritanical fervor against it.

     It is as if envy became a virtue, failure a sacrament.

     Very strange.

The Boring and the Death

      Traditionally, one way to mock a poem was to read it (often in what we now call "poet voice") aloud.  This was a way of saying that the words were neither memorizable nor worthy of memorization--in short, that they didn't constitute poetry by any useful definition.  Today, parody has met practice as poets are caught on camera, in public, reading their own work.  To be clear, these are not works in process.  These weren't handed to the poet minutes before going onstage.  And the poets didn't all suffer some catastrophic illness or accident that deprived them of short term memory.  We're talking laziness and lack of craft.  This being poetry's "norm" is proof of morbidity.  Audiences don't object because there are no audiences.

      Naturally, poetry editors, publishers and promoters can't accept this truth, even to the point of denying it.  After all, it undermines everything they're trying to do.  However, we can hardly cooperate in reanimating something without acknowledging that it is, in fact, dead.  (We'll discuss how page poets and outlets will benefit from stage poets in future posts.)

Consider this albeit perverse view

     You don't need to be a gardener to know that annuals die each winter.  Perhaps this was an Ice Age for poetry.  Can this be spring?  For an individual, this could be a "glass half full" opportunity.  The few great poets are retired and/or unknown to the public, the few that are recognized aren't poets, and virtually no one, least of all the authors themselves, can perform the stuff.  The path is wide open for anyone who knows the craft and can do or network with those who can do  the three P's:  Performance, Presentation (e.g. videos), and Promotion.  Note that, with the Internet in general, YouTube in particular, we have a facility humankind has never had:  the ease of individuals to find a global reception not just for text and still pictures (e.g. photos, paintings, graphics) but for video as well.  We can talk  to the world!

      It being a mode of speech, poetry needs to be performed.  Not read.  Would you watch a movie where the characters read from scripts?  Or woodenly from prompters?  And, no, we're not talking about equally unmodulated slammers screaming and gesticulating wildly for three solid minutes.  We're talking performance, something so rare that we have to re-use the same examples over and over again.

      To illustrate, compare Andy Garcia's performance of "The Goring and the Death" from Federico Garcia Lorca's "Llanto por Ignacio Sánchez Mejías" to the dreaded "poet voice" we know all to well:

      Brace yourself for Gregory Orr reading "Gathering the Bones":

William Ernest Henley's "Invictus", written in 1875, published in "Book of Verses" under "Life and Death (Echoes)", 1888:

Out of the night that covers me,
      Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
       I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
      Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
      How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
      I am the captain of my soul.

      Consider this appearance by Morgan Freeman on the Charlie Rose show when they discuss Nelson Mandala.

     Rewind a few hundred times over the moment at the :38 second mark where Morgan laughs and gives a doleful look at Charlie Rose's offer of the poem's text.  Note how incredulous the host is that a person--an award winning professional actor, no less--can actually [gasp!] recite a classic 16 line poem from memory.

     Charlie shows us how dead English poetry is.

     Morgan shows us how it can be reincarnated.

The State of the Art

     We begin by apologizing to Divya Victor for singling out "Locution/Location" from all the other vacuous dreck being put out today.  We choose this sample because even its preface is pretensious nonsense:

This is what writing is: I one language, I another language, and between the two, the line that makes them vibrate; writing? forms a passageway between two shores.

—Hélène Cixous, “Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing”

     This one seems to be about the weighty issue surrounding the pronunciation of the letter "H".  We won't need more than the first strophe to make our point:

She sings the letters
to my daughter, strings them
marigolds into garlands
in the order of the alphabet
E, F, G, she
tugs the haitch, taut and long
far from the breast, a letter
the length of a coast, the width
of a gull’s caw, she now carries
the haitch like I will carry the gurney
later, weightless
hammer
of feather
the letters swim with the orange petals
around & around
her, child & crone
milkflesh holme, mouthly
smelling of talc and gooseberry

      No one, least of all the author, would bother to memorize this word salad, let alone perform it.  Were anyone to do so the audience would look at them like pigs in "The Commissar's Report", as if to ask "Why are you inflicting this on us?"  One would look like a jackass.  Hence the "poetry reading", which doesn't involve the presenter looking listeners in the eye.  It is, in every sense, the antipodal opposite of poetry.

     Contrast the typical poetry reading  to Christopher Plummer's performance of "Brown Penny"  by William Butler Yeats.

     What is the upshot of this lack of exposure to good performance, let alone good contemporary writing?

     Recently, we posted this challenge here, in a [novice] showcase group, and in a gathering of most of the world's top poets and editors:

Describe a poem that Facebookers would Share.    

      No one could visualize such a thing.  Not only could they not recall a time they Shared or Retweeted any verse themselves, they could not envision what such a piece would look like. 

Thus, not only is poetry dead, but none of us can imagine it being alive.

     Think about that for a while.

How Long Does Poetry Take?

     How long does brain surgery take if you know absolutely nothing about medicine?  Use a club to knock the patient unconscious, drill through the skull, root around until you find something that looks out of place, rip it out, close the wound, and you're done!  As is the patient, but no one said anything about successful  brain surgery, right?

     Newcomers often ask how long it takes to write a poem.  It can take forever but, generally speaking, the answer depends on how good the poet and poem are.  Poor poets produce dreck at breakneck speeds.  Their process involves far fewer steps.

     Jotting down an outline can take minutes.  A newcomer may now say:  "Voilà!  We're done!"  First thought, best though, right?  Time to find an unsuspecting reader... 

     A slightly less raw neophyte might take the rest of the day to produce a draft.  (Note we didn't write "a first draft".)  Then they're done.

     If writing for the "publish or perish" academic crowd the journey is a little longer.  One has to inject some clever, original phrases.  A random text generator can help find the perfectly baffling modifier or metaphor.  One or two of these per poem should suffice.  Thus, we can finish in a weekend and ship the end product off to Poetry magazine or our university press. 

     Because it has to have objective merit, technical verse will take weeks--a month if free verse.  There is a trick to this:  Do the sonics before the rhythm.  Choose soft sounds for reflection, harsh ones for drama, and repeat them (as assonance, consonance, alliteration, or rhyme) as appropriate.  Attend to cadence last, either in meter or in rhythm strings (which distinguish free verse from prose [poetry]).

     At this point, what you have might win a Nemerov but it won't draw a crowd.  Why not?  Because we've forgotten that poetry is a mode of speech.  We need to gear it for an audience, not a readership.  We must perform it (or find someone who can and will).  This usually means memorizing it and practicing our presentation.  We have to sound natural, performing rather than reciting.  And certainly not reading.

     At no point onstage can we look up and to the right, a telltale sign than we're trying to recall something.  This is vital, since our eyes must be free to search the audience for hints of waxing or waning interest.  If the people at an open mic are leaning forward and shushing those around them, we have them.  (This, incidentally, is the greatest feeling in human experience.)  If, on the other hand, we see them slouching backward and whispering to each other we have work to do.

     Once we have something worth showing the world the final step is to create a video and post it to a public forum such as YouTube or Vimeo.  We will address the basics of this process in a subsequent blog.

     With talent, education, practice, inspiration, and some luck, an actual poet can often finish a work in two months.

Poetry, Politics, and Money

      "Multiculturalism is vital to poetry because it is virtually impossible for an anglophone to imagine a world where poetry is alive, just as others cannot envision a world where it isn't." - EG

     Contemporary English language poetry is a cautionary tale.

     On June 10th, 2020, Chicago Tribune writer Jennifer Day reported: "Poetry Foundation president, board chair resign after open letter demands more in wake of Black Lives Matter protests."

     The Republican dominated Poetry Foundation put out a statement in sympathy with the Black Lives Matter protests:

The Poetry Foundation and Poetry magazine stand in solidarity with the Black community, and denounce injustice and systemic racism.

As an organization we recognize that there is much work to be done, and we are committed to engaging in this work to eradicate institutional racism. We acknowledge that real change takes time and dedication, and we are committed to making this a priority.

We believe in the strength and power of poetry to uplift in times of despair, and to empower and amplify the voices of this time, this moment.

     Hardly inflammatory.  Nevertheless, these words were treated as tepid crocodile tears by just about every linebreaker who'd ever contributed to Poetry Magazine:  Letter to the Poetry Foundation from Fellows + Programmatic Partners

     This sentence was of particular interest to us:

Ultimately, we dream of a world in which there are more sustainable ways for poets to support themselves that do not require them to engage with institutions that may not share their values.

     We could have lived without the politicalization after "themselves".  Why should viable artists have to engage with any institution?

     Other than co-sponsoring "Poetry Out Loud", which the Foundation seeds with poems that have zero performance value, it's hard to see what interest these people have in promoting this mode of speech.  The letter continues:

Ultimately, we dream of a world in which the massive wealth hoarding that underlies the Foundation’s work would be replaced by the redistribution of every cent to those whose labor amassed those funds.

      They had me until the last five words.  If only they had finished with "dedicated to poetry promotion and education."  That the Foundation is still financially stable is not a problem.  (What should we expect from an organization run by a banker?)

      An educator would put a poetry primer into the hands of every student in America.  A promoter would insinuate poetry into movies, television shows, and bars from the Keys to the Aleutians.  A networker would create discussions among poets, actors, songwriters, musicians, playwrights, web designers, governments, venue owners, and all other associated entities.

      $253,000,000?

     The mind boggles.

So, You Want to be Published

Rule #1:  Don't!

     It is like a Catch-22.  The fact that you're reading about how to go get published proves that it is too early for you.

     It is important to understand that there is little or no recompense involved here.  Glory?  The only people reading your words will be others curious about what kind of stuff they have to write in order to be published there themselves.  Bear in mind, too, that there are thousands of poetry magazines and webzines sharing very few readers. 

     There is also the small matter of poetry's condition.  How many living poets can you name?  More to the point, how many do you think even 1% of the population can name?

     With neither fortune nor fame in the mix, is there a downside to being published?  Certainly!  Editors almost always want "first serial rights", such that, while it might be used in a future collection, future magazine editors are unlikely to want that work.  Worse yet, if you were foolish enough to use your real name, publications could cause problems for you in the future.  As you improve, you might get more and more ambitious in your submissions.  Your chances won't be enhanced by future editors web searching your name and finding your rawest pieces.  Meanwhile, prospective employers and other business contacts might not like what they see when they Google you in the future.

    "Okay, then I'll publish a book."

     See Rule #1.  If you self-publish you will, at least, retain distributional control.  This is to say that you can bury the product later, when you have produced better offerings.  After foisting a few dozen copies on friends and family, the lesson shouldn't cost you more than a few thousand dollars--less if you use LuLu.

     Planning a book is not just wrong, it's exactly wrong.  As they say, the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.  Instead of trying to fill a volume with, say, fifty mediocre poems, try to produce one stunning critically acclaimed masterpiece.  Think quality, not quantity.  Bear in mind that, aside from the players' parents, no one wants to watch Pop Warner football when they could be watching the NFL.  You will be competing against the best poets in the world.  It is important to view this as challenging more than daunting.

How to Produce a Stunning Critically Acclaimed Masterpiece

1.  Learn the craft.

      You don't make it into the National Hockey League by skating on your ankles.  Craft might not help so much with editors, few of whom have studied it themselves, but it will capture the attention of geeks--any one of whom can create a buzz for you if suitably impressed--and listeners.

2.  Respect the craft.

     If you don't know whether "The Red Wheel Barrow" is free verse or metrical you can learn.  Start now.

     If you don't care whether "The Red Wheel Barrow" is free verse or metrical you can't learn.  Stop now.

3.  Poetry is a mode of speech.

     Not writing.  Never, ever let anyone see you reading poetry--especially your own--aloud from a script.  That would be tantamount to announcing that nothing you write should be taken seriously, even by you.

     It follows that you must either perform it or attract the attention of those who can.

4.  Say what you need to say.

     And nothing more.  Ideally, it should be something small that could unfold to something different, something bigger.  Avoid clichés and well-worn themes.  Use original language to conjure up something interesting.

5.  Never, ever describe what you're doing as "poetry". 

    The idea is to attract listeners, not to repel them.  Choose words that people will not only want to hear, but to remember.  Verbatim.  Let the audience decide what to call and how to treat your offerings.

6.  We need to develop performance, multimedia and social media skills or network with those who have them.

    By far, the most likely way for an individual to reach a large audience is to have a YouTube video go viral.  Here is where technique can mean everything.

7.  Avoid any mention of hearts, souls, the abyss, or other overwrought abstractions. 

    And shards. 

    Especially shards.

8.  Know that you have "arrived" when strangers quote you.

9. Avoid Seinfeldian ("So what?") poems.

If You Insist

     If impatient or overconfident, here are some pointers:

     Do a web search of outlets or go to "Poets & Writers - Literary Magazines".  Look for what seems a suitable venue and then research it.  Make sure the outlet is still in operation.  Check out their reading period.


     What kind of content do they like?  As long as it isn't a diary entry, one can wow editors with succinct plotlines that end with an intriguing twist.  If not too self-conscious, a clever turn of phrase can help.  Humor always sells.  Avoid propaganda unless willing to severely limit your options. 

     Academia is a different market entirely.  University presses are a slam dunk if you can claim to be an alumnus and/or can fit in enough literary allusions to keep scholars annotating for hours on end, along with enough dead ends to keep interpreters guessing for decades.

     Whatever your expectations are, lower them.

A Third Mode of Speech Discovered!

     In the beginning there was prose.  Its purpose was to convey information:  either truth and/or useful fiction (e.g. sagas, myths, fables, et cetera).  Argument and opinion soon followed.

      Later, poetry was developed to preserve words in memory.

     Not until this century did a third mode of speech appear.

LieJacking

      This new meta-category is the opposite of both previous modes.  It is used exclusively for diversion and obfuscation, if not outright mendacity, and/or for useless blather.  Even as it is being uttered, both speaker and listeners seem to be putting in considerable effort to forget it. 

      The intent is not to follow a subject, or even to change it, but to kidnap the conversation away from any modicum of coherence or relevance.  It is not merely some nascent form of cryptocrap.  It is not just the illiterati's attempt at postmodernism.  It is the verbal equivalent of anti-matter.

      "...you've neglected the basic need of making sense."

        - Margaret Ann Griffiths (Eratosphere, 09-21-2007)

Great Audiences

     "To have great poets, there must be great audiences."

      Walt Whitman said a mouthful here.  This has been true for as long as humankind has had language, 100,000 years by conservative estimates.  In preliterate societies audiences defined poetry itself as being whatever was preserved verbatim;  that which was left behind was prose.

      Because of this, audiences developed mnemonics to help the tribe preserve its culture in poetry.  Indeed, prosody might be humanity's first science.

      Skipping forward to today, a novice on a showcase site wondered if it were possible for an unschooled individual to create a noteworthy poem.  This is a variation on the venerated question:

      "Can 100 monkeys on 100 typewriters for 100 years produce Shakespeare?"

      The answer is "Yes" but, by my calculation, someone who doesn't know an anapest from Budapest or diaeresis from diarrhea will win two lotteries before producing a remarkable poem.  Even if they could, another classic cliché raises its head:

      "If a tree falls in the forest does anybody hear?"

       Without one of those great audience members Whitman spoke about, the answer will be "No".  Without these "bird dogs", the few efforts worth preserving may be overlooked.  For example, two of the great poems of this century were created by newcomers.  When "How Aimée remembers Jaguar" was posted to a critical forum one critic said:  "Change nothing."  Years later, when an editor asked if that critic could help him out of a dry spell the latter pulled a well worn hardcopy of that poem out of his back pocket.

      As fortuitous as that was, "There are Sunflowers in Italy" only drew attention after it was translated into English.  Without that, we might never have seen one of the century's great sentences (describing the poetry mentor languishing in prison before, it seems, his execution):

You wrote your verses
with your veins,
cold against the wall.

     Something to remember the next time we're tempted to complain about critics!

     We end on a stark note:  There can be no "great audiences" in print, or in a population that doesn't learn the rudiments of poetry.

The Rise of CryptoCrap

Earl Gray's 2nd Law

     Half a century ago grade six students were taught basic scansion, meaning that they understood the elements of poetry better than most English PhDs today.  Because these college graduates cannot speak, let alone authoritatively, about the rudiments of verse, they need to focus on interpretation instead of intrinsic merit.

    This gave us obscure texts which professors could waste entire semesters "analyzing".  It has become a co-dependency, a causation spiral of incoherence and tenuous inference.  It spawned two generations of "experts" with no knowledge of or interest in learning the definition, let alone the elements, of poetry.

Earl Gray's 77th Law.

     CryptoCrap was born out of the ashes of poetry's funeral pyre.  It was the perfect solution:  easy to produce, easy to find, impossible to define.  One could, for example, use software to translate it back and forth into foreign languages until the syntax was sufficient distorted to call it "postmodern poetry".  The fact that it had no artistic, entertainment, technical, performance, or educative value didn't seem a problem.  That no one, including the author, bothered to perform it was lost on prose mongers, as was the existence of poetry as a mode of speech.  Magazines and English teachers had an infinite, ready supply of word puzzles to ponder, disseminate, and discuss.  It was easy for pseudointellectuals too lazy to learn whether "The Red Wheelbarrow" is free verse or metrical to "philosophize" endlessly about its meaning.  (Hint:  It is not "written in a brief, haiku-like free-verse form.")  This passed for "literary criticism":  an absurd notion that arid brain droppings are inherently superior to adolescent heart farts.

     Disinterested readers saw through this pretense and gave up on poetry (other than song lyrics).  Yes, the majority of poetry geeks are still academics but they are an endangered subspecies of literary scholars.  In truth, the average English teacher or professor today probably couldn't conduct a lesson without descending into annotation.  (Pro Tip:  Get your students involved by scanning their favorite songs.)

     As always, the antidotes to gaslighting remain education and reason.

Earl's 186th Law.

"Why don't people read or 'Like' my poetry?"

Terminal Diaeresis

     Newcomers often ask:  "Why don't people read or 'Like' my poetry?"

     It's not like others are every bit as fascinated by the autobiographies, diary entries, and yearnings of strangers as you are.  Or aren't interested in chatting and being sociable.  Or that poems and poets could focus on something more distant than our navels.  Heresy!

     It's not like you are asking for a significant investment on the part of a reader.  They skim a few lines, say something appreciative and encouraging, then they move on.  What's the problem?

    "So why are people ignoring my posts?  It's not like there is a competition going on here, right?"

     There may be any number of reasons unrelated to the work itself.  Everyone has their favorites, preferring them to unknowns.  Power politics may be in play, with others flattering those they feel may be able to help them.  There may be a quid pro quo playing out, with pairs trading favorable evaluations.  Styles may form alliances, with contributors of like mind supporting a group philosophy or aesthetic.

     Aside from these human foibles, there is a good chance that some of the contributors are using tricks.  Dirty, underhanded tricks!  And not even new ones!  Some of these go back centuries or millennia--even to the beginnings of language!

     These sneaky subterfuges come in two categories:  brevity (no wasted words!) and repetition.  The latter can involve anything from whole choruses and lines ("repetends") to sounds (e.g. rhyme, assonance, consonance, alliteration) and rhythms (e.g. iambs:  de DUM de DUM; the beats of a song, etc.).  It's as if these people are trying to get people to not only notice  their words but to remember  them as well.  Weird.

     To show what extent these bastards will go to, let us look at an extreme, admittedly obscure example.  Hand this stanza from DPK's "Beans" to someone and ask them to read it aloud to you:

September came like winter's
ailing child but
left us
viewing Valparaiso's pride. Your face was
always saddest when you smiled. You smiled as every
doctored moment lied. You lie with
orphans' parents, long
reviled.

      Listen to the rhythm of those stressed syllables.  Ask them to read it to you a second time.

      Do you hear how final that last word seems?  How it sounds like a triumphant "Ta Da!" at the end of a performance?

      Diaeresis is an ancient stunt usually relating to a break in the middle of a line.  Here we have terminal diaeresis, which is more esoteric still.  The magic effect comes from ending an iambic (de DUM) passage with an iambic word ("reVILED");  all previous two-syllable words were trochaic (DUM-de, i.e. "WINters", "AILing", "VIEWing", "ALways", "SADdest", "EV'ry", "DOCtor'd", "MOMent", "ORPHans", "PARents").

     Over 99.9% of poets wouldn't know diaeresis from diarrhea.  It's that rare.

     How long has this stuff been going on?  Terminal diaeresis wasn't new when Shakespeare developed it in his sonnets, circa 1600.  Thus, today's poets are so desperate for attention that they are pulling 400 year old rabbits out of their butts!  Worse yet, there are sites and articles dedicated to proliferating these dark arts, this being one of them.

What You Need To Know About Poetry

     This is but one of the thousands of options in the hypermodern poet's bag of tricks.  Thousands!

     How are you going to compete with that?

What You Need To Know About Poetry

1. Definition of Poetry


2a. Scansion for Beginners

2b. Scansion for Intermediates

2c. Scansion for Experts


3. Sonics


4. Performance


5. Terminology
 

6. Examples

      An even quicker approach would be "Poetry in Three Minutes".

 

Performing Poetry

      One of the many symptoms of poetry's death was the disappearance of contemporary poetry performance.  Indeed, apart from Shakespearean plays and some hurried readings by Dylan Thomas, Anthony Hopkins, and Michael Caine, the world is bereft of convincing performances as opposed to readings, recitations, and overwrought original bleatings.  (If you have found one please let us know below.)  This has become an arcane art.

1. Memorize the words.

      You wouldn't want to see actors reading from scripts on Broadway.  The presenter needs to see--or seem to see, in the case of cameras--the audience and their reactions. 

2. Forget that you memorized the words.

      The language has to be natural and believable, as if the speaker were formulating each thought before expressing it.

3. Practice until it seems unpracticed.  

     Cliché Alert:  "Make the words your own."

     Practice until it seems like normal speech (if appropriately impassioned in places).  Use a mirror or, better yet, a camera [phone] to record yourself.

     Use your down time.  Carry a copy of a poem with you to the bathroom, into waiting rooms, onto buses, while walking the dog, etc.  Don't worry what your neighbors will say.  They already think you're crazy.

4. Go to open mic events.  Participate once you're comfortable doing so.

     If you are too shy, find a friend who has some acting chops.  Form a partnership.  Elton John to your Bernie Taupin.

     As an exercise, consider starting with one of the two finest poems of this century, "Studying Savonarola", written by the greatest poet of our time, the late Margaret A. Griffiths.  This is a piece that, in the hands of an inspired performer, works much better on the stage than the page.  (Its counterpart, "Beans", may be too difficult for anyone but a seasoned actress.)    Given the lack of competition, if you can nail this you could make history.

      A final tip:  One of the very few editors who appreciates the performance aspect of poetry is John Amen of Pedestal Magazine.

      This is the closest we can come to an example of performance, which is evident even if we don't speak Spanish:

THE GORING AND THE DEATH

At five in the afternoon.
It was just five in the afternoon.
A boy brought the white sheet
at five in the afternoon.
A basket of lime made ready
at five in the afternoon.
The rest was death and only death
at five in the afternoon.

The wind blew the cotton wool away
at five in the afternoon.
And oxide scattered nickel and glass
at five in the afternoon.
Now the dove and the leopard fight
at five in the afternoon.
And a thigh with a desolate horn
at five in the afternoon.
The bass-pipe sound began
at five in the afternoon.
The bells of arsenic, the smoke
at five in the afternoon.
Silent crowds on corners
at five in the afternoon.
And only the bull with risen heart!
at five in the afternoon.
When the snow-sweat appeared
at five in the afternoon.
when the arena was splashed with iodine
at five in the afternoon.
death laid its eggs in the wound
at five in the afternoon.
At five in the afternoon.
At just five in the afternoon.

A coffin on wheels for his bed
at five in the afternoon.
Bones and flutes sound in his ear
at five in the afternoon.
Now the bull bellows on his brow
at five in the afternoon.
The room glows with agony
at five in the afternoon.
Now out of distance gangrene comes
at five in the afternoon.
Trumpets of lilies for the green groin
at five in the afternoon.
Wounds burning like suns
at five in the afternoon,
and the people smashing windows
at five in the afternoon.
At five in the afternoon.
Ay, what a fearful five in the afternoon!
It was five on every clock!
It was five of a dark afternoon!

Learning Poetry - 4. Performance (in three minutes)

Ten Steps to Writing Poetry

Earl Gray's 104th Law of Poetry

Q1. Why don't people read my poetry?

      This one is easy:

Reason #1:

      People don't read your poetry because poetry is a form of speech, not writing.  It is meant to be performed.  Aloud.  Not read.  Not read aloud.

Earl Gray's 154th Law of Poetry

Reason #2:  

      People don't read your poetry for the same reason you don't read theirs.  Or anyone else's.  No, it's not tit-for-tat or quid pro quo.  99% of golfers are duffers.  99% of chessplayers are patzers.  99% of bridgeplayers are palookas.  As in most avocations, 99% of poets are untrained and unskilled.  

Earl Gray's 35th Law of Poetry

 Q2. How can I get critics to read my poetry?

      Serious critics are few--there may be 200 worldwide--and extremely busy.  You'd have to master the basics and show determination before attracting such help.  Unless you are self-motivating, it is a Catch-22, like trying to get a job without experience...or experience without a job.  Lurk for a year on critical forums such as Poetry Free-For-All or Eratosphere before posting there.

Earl Gray's 56th Law of Poetry

Q3.  So what do I need to learn?

#1:  Humility.  Observe Scavella's Mantra:  "I'm not as good as I think I am."  
 

Earl Gray's 109th Law of Poetry

 #2:  Be teachable.  Tutor's motto:  "We can work with the clueless but not the clueproof."

Earl Gray's 44th Law of Poetry

#3:  Respect the art form.  Avoid the Convenient Poetics trap.  Learn why you will remember phrases from the great poems of the 21st century long after you forget everything else you read this month.

Earl Gray's 76th Law of Poetry

#4:  Start with a useful definition:  Poetry is verbatim.

Earl Gray's 67th Law of Poetry

 #5:  Learn basic scansion.

Earl Gray's 31st Law of Poetry

#6.  In five years, consider free verse (which doesn't mean what you think it means).

Earl Gray's 11th Law of Poetry

#7:  Learn sonics.

Earl Gray's 11th Law of Poetry

  #8:  Learn the difference between voice (which varies from poem to poem) and style (a usually unfortunate consistency between poems).

Earl Gray's 19th Law of Poetry

Earl Gray's 79th Law of Poetry

#9:  Practice performing in front of mirrors, then open mic crowds.

Earl Gray's 84th Law of Poetry

#10:  Post your finished performances online (e.g. YouTube).  Include that link whenever you submit text.

Earl Gray's 106th Law of Poetry

Q4:  This sounds daunting, doesn't it?

      Actually, no.  It can be the ride of your life.

Earl Gray's 57th Law of Poetry - Pearl's 1st Paradox

 Q5:  Can you give me a definition of poetry more involved than "verbatim" or "memorable"?

      Sure.

Earl Gray's 182nd Law of Poetry - Pearl's 4th Paradox

      Any other questions?