Powered By Blogger

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Writing Poetry is Not for Sissies




Writing Poetry is Not for Sissies


To write clearly

                with simple words

                                is a chore.

 

My pencil wants

                to write words

                                that dance

 

with alliteration

                and adjectives

                                (those dreadful things.)

 

I have to beat my poems

                to teach them

                                to behave, flail them

 

free of adverbs

                and of clichés;

                                clean their teeth

 

of flowery phrases

                they sneak when

                                I’m not watching.

 

My husband asks,

                “What are you

                                doing?”

 

And I have to confess.

                “I’m beating a poem

                                to death.”

 

He laughs, but it’s true

                and I’m not done

                                yet.

8 comments:

Unknown said...

I really like this. Don't know why. Just do.
Gary

Carol Steel said...

Thanks for this. There don't have to be "whys." Liking it is good.

Sharp Little Pencil said...

...and I'm not done yet! Very apt description of wrangling a poem, breaking it of inconsequential detritus, and making it behave and be presentable! Just loved this, and the spacing worked so well. Thx for stopping by and commenting on my blog, too. Peace, Carol. Amy

Carol Steel said...

Hi Amy. Thanks for your comments on the poem and on the process of writing poems. Writing poetry is harder than it appears.

Rambling Woods said...

I don't know how you do it..... Michelle

Fireblossom said...

Ah, but it's for the poem's own good!

;-)

Carol Steel said...

Thanks Michelle. I love poetry but am still struggling with learning how to do it. I hope to be good at it and craft poems worth reading. I am learning...

Carol Steel said...

Yes indeed, Fireblossom, a good thrashing never hurts a poem. Sometimes when I'm finished tearing them apart, there isn't much left so I begin again. I'm learning.