What Makes Poetry
Tempo
Tempo is the speed of a poem. It swings or slows to the poet's mood, words or how he/she writes a specific poem.
A party beat poem calls for a jog. A stroll down memory lane requires a slower tempo. Some poets naturally have a slower or faster tempo. It depends on you and your back-ground.
Your poems expose just the right tempo.
Slice-in a slower tempo between paragraphs of faster tempo poems. Add a dash of pepper to a slower tempo poem.
The objective is to have a natural flow of poetry.
Lines Vary
Lines grab attention and then stop. They develop into two words, three words, five words or more. Lines beat in tempo, sway in rhythm and dance to your beat. Lines jump into essays, mark stanzas, take paragraphs at will and knead songs.
You, the poet, determine how lines support and shape your poetry.
Poems are centered, set to the left or right margin. Simply, be creative.
A Thought
Make a note of words, thoughts, that tickle your interests. Concentrate on what ignites your creative flow. Let your thoughts flow freely.
One Incident
Don't stop when one incident or thought helps you write a poem. Twirl the one incident into as many poems as possible. I turned the poem "Auntee" into several different poems, one incident.
It's written in Free Verse. Free Verse poems aren't set in pattern or length.
Plopping dishes into the sink
Brought those last minutes back,
Of Auntee-
The blank stares,
She slapped hands over her ears
Fighting to block something.
Brought those last minutes back,
Of Auntee-
The blank stares,
She slapped hands over her ears
Fighting to block something.
Eyes darting around the room
Rolling to the floor,
Struggling for a hold-
But she lost
Rolling to the floor,
Struggling for a hold-
But she lost
Now, Auntee have days
When she's not trembling in fear
Pacing from the loud voices
That reside in her head,
Or screaming at space.
When she's not trembling in fear
Pacing from the loud voices
That reside in her head,
Or screaming at space.
Awakening to focus on me
Small glitter of childhood,
Just as it was--
Then the blank wall stands up.
Small glitter of childhood,
Just as it was--
Then the blank wall stands up.
Patty-Cake
Brings a smile to her lips,
While Buckle My Shoe
Puts glee in her eyes.
Brings a smile to her lips,
While Buckle My Shoe
Puts glee in her eyes.
It's my turn
To care for Auntee,
With love.
To care for Auntee,
With love.
Flashback
I used a flashback in the following Free Verse poem.
Auntee stares became blank,
She slapped hands over ears
Fighting to block something.
She slapped hands over ears
Fighting to block something.
Eyes darting around the room,
She folded to her knees
Struggling for a hold
Auntee lost.
She folded to her knees
Struggling for a hold
Auntee lost.
The moment peeled away
When her dish plopped to the floor.
When her dish plopped to the floor.
Now, she has days
Of trembling in fear,
Of trembling in fear,
Pacing from loud voices
That reside in her head,
And screams at imaginary people.
That reside in her head,
And screams at imaginary people.
It's my turn
To care for Auntee.
To care for Auntee.
