30 Poems in 30 Days: About Forms and Lists
September 10, 2007 by J.C. Hewitt
This is Day 7 of 30 Poems in 30 Days
About Forms
When I decided to write this series, I gave some thought to just how much time I wanted to spend writing about poetry forms. Forms are an interesting exercise for poets. Forms such as sonnet, villanelle, sestina, and ghazal are challenging and can really help beginning poet develop skills such as learning to work with meter, rhythm, rhyme and word choice. The downside is that forms rarely produce great poems, and the more constraints a form puts onto the poet, the less the poet gets to focus on themes and ideas and the more they have to focus on following rules.
I think there is a lot of benefit to be had from learning to work within these forms, but I think that they can frustrate people needlessly. Also, if the market for poetry as a whole is tiny, than the market for poetry in forms is microscopic. There just aren’t very many people who are interested.
The primary goal of this project is to write 30 poems in 30 days. The secondary goal is for people to produce thirty poems that they would feel comfortable putting into a book. While it is possible to write a good villanelle, the odds are stacked against you. So, while I will be getting to such squirrely topics as line, meter and stanzas, I am not going to push a lot of difficult forms on people.
The List Poem
That said, here is a form for you to try. It is actually a relatively easy and fun form that starts us down the path of thinking about the use of the line in poetry. A list poem is exactly what it sounds like, a poem that takes the form of a list. Every line of the poem (or alternately every stanza) should be a different item on the list. The poem can be about anything that can be listed. Here, in quite unpoetic form, is a list of lists:
A grocery list
A list of rules
A list of childhood games
A list of reasons you hate mornings
A list of foods you love or hate
A list of everyone who has ever made you angry
A list of everyone you love
A to do list
A list of goals
A list of failures
A list of names for your baby
A list of insults
A list of the best body parts
A list of places you would like to go
A list of features you look for in a new house
A list of the cars you’ve owned
A list of things that scare you
A list of things you want to do before you get too old
A list of reasons you love your spouse
A list of the things attached to your refrigerator
A list of books you’d read again
The list can go on and on.
The difference between an ordinary list (like the one above) and a list poem is that, as a poem, there should still be themes and structure. It should evoke a feeling from the reader. Each item of the list should have a relationship to or a contrast with the items around it. Each item on the list should be written in the same general style, setting up a rhythm that propels the poem forward. Like any other poem, there should be a beginning, a middle and an end so that the reader feels there has been a progression towards a point or a goal.
Today’s Assignment
Write a list poem that uses a single line for each item on the list. Feel free to choose one of the topics above, or use anything else that comes to mind. As always, post the poem in the comments section if you would like to share it.
Today’s Recommended Poet
Tony Hoagland is one of my favorite poets. He can be playful, but he can also be bitter and sarcastic at times, which is a selling point for me but might turn some people off. More importantly, he can turn a phrase on a dime. One line plays off the next with beauty and precision. You never know where he is heading until he is finished.
You can read a few of his poems in the web:
Operations
Grammar
Jet
Lucky
Why the Young Men Are So Ugly
Here are his books:
Hard Rain
What Narcissism Means to Me
Donkey Gospel
Sweet Ruin
Advertisement for Love
Hair, he must have it, and
Teeth would be nice
Eyes blue and friendly would make him be mine
Humor a must have for me in my time
Energy to keep up with my sharp shooting mind
Good manners, I’m old fanshioned, open the door if you please
Sexuality to die for, I won’t have a tease for my squeeze
Politics must be far on the left
Music knowledge would be cool, he could sing the F Clef
Trust that’s unquestionable
Forgiveness that’s real
Perfection’s not really on the list
Love is though, it’s my final grand wish!
I wrote a poem as a personal ad once. It didn’t work. Luckily I eventually found love on my own. Good luck Connie!
lolol . . . oh, I found the love already, this is the ad I would have written.
Thanks for Tony Hoagland, a new discovery for me. He’s fantastic!
Absolutely, Tony is wonderful . . . Lucky certainly hit home for me as I have been “Lucky.” Thank you so much for turning us onto him. What a treasure.
Er – “forms rarely produce great poems”???
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”
And you know, one could go on and on, mentioning the likes of Basho, Lorca, Yeats … the list is endless and not all of them dead. Of course, there is much great free verse too.
All right, but they’re LONG lines, OK? (Each full stop marks a line end.)
Nostalgia trip
The rocky Andes, home to live ancient gods.
The dazzling sweep of the Himalayas, seen from a tiny plane.
Ben Lomond, friendly Tasmanian Ben Lomond, purple in my classroom window.
And the blue vertical cliffs of Mt Roland, my father’s favourite too, which he painted for me.
Strange-shaped Mt Warning of the three peaks and the chieftan’s face in profile: the crystal-filled crater I flourish beneath.
Cusco’s walls of stone, steep streets, carved cathedrals.
The singing waters of Venice; its impossibly narrow lanes.
Kathmandu of the sacred statues, the rearing snake guarding Nagpokhari pool.
Launceston where I was born, by the river Tamar … Birchall’s bookshop, the chimes of the Town Hall clock.
And the one with no going back – sauntering, with the easy throng, the night markets in Denpasar thirty years gone.
Rosemary,
You’ve hit on exactly the problem. How can I devote myself to writing sonnets when Shakespeare already perfected the form? The chances of me beating Shakespeare at his game are just too slim… Even if I embraced forms, I would run away from sonnets as fast as I could. I’d rather play in an arena where I at least have a chance to come close to the masters.
I think greatness is rare regardless of form or the lack thereof. As difficult to be Sylvia Plath or Mary Oliver as to be Shakespeare or Basho!
Personally I like form but I often make up my own – nothing akin to a sonnet, however!
I have found that one of the outcomes of writing sonnets is that they often produce great humor. The danger of form is that the poem can seem contrived. Form requires discipline. It’s much easier for to become instantly inspired and just fling off a poem without thought, hence you will find me repeating myself, making spelling erros; I type as fast as I can think and then I’m ready for the next project. And yes Rosemary, I make up form as well, and words. Taking time to work on something when another thing is lurking behind my brain is excruciating.
John can’t find my Poems No. 2 and No. 3. They were posted together (before I understood how to post) on the same comment page, now they are gone. I’m not sure I even made copies, but if I can find them, should I repost them??
I never said it was easy to be great, but there’s no point in making it excessively hard. I don’t want to compete with the established master of 500 years in the form that he was best at. Working in forms invites comparison with the other people who worked in that form. Freeverse is a vast canvass that has room for everyone.
I don’t begrudge anyone the opportunity to work in forms, but I don’t want to needlessly frustrate people. I stand by what I said, there’s no professional poet working in forms today that excites or interests me. I’m not saying its impossible to do it, or that there isn’t someone out there who I am missing, just that this is the landscape as I currently see it.
Oh, and as for Basho and Lorca, they did not work in English. Many forms work better in other languages than they do in English. English is not a lyrical language which makes forms especially difficult.
Connie,
Poems #2 and #3 are here:
http://www.poewar.com/30-poems-in-30-days/
Feel free to repost them where you want.
Here is a preliminary entry. I may add another later.
Babysitting the Core Values
Act with Integrity
Don’t be a tattletale!
Value differences in others
Don’t point!
Treat others the way they want to be treated
Quit touching her!
Take full responsibility for your actions
Quit touching yourself!
Earn respect and demonstrate fairness
Nobody likes a bully!
Establish trust and credibility
Nobody likes a know-it-all!
Balance work and family life
Don’t make me call your mother!
Volunteer in your community
You’re going to clean that up right now!
Think like a client, act like a shareholder
Give that back!
Embrace our customer covenant
What did I say about touching other people?
Perform with high energy
Get off the furniture!
Foster a team environment
Now you’re both in trouble!
Be accessible
Why don’t you kids play outside?
Achieve results within budget
Why don’t I get us some ice cream?
Expand industry knowledge
Do you know anyone else who’s hiring?
Yes I’m sure you’re right about other languages. And also about the most exciting English-language poets today writing free verse. I concede!
(Even those who occasionally try traditional forms tend to use very free versions of them – e.g. 14 lines and a turn of thought at the end being all that’s required nowadays for a sonnet.)
Meanwhile, I thoroughly enjoy your babysitting effort!
Okay, this is truly a sucky poem but I’m playing catch-up…
NOTE TO SELF
Don’t be so literal
(This is a poem)
Don’t be so linear
(And then and then)
Use and adjective
(Now and again)
Or a metaphor
(This is a poem)
Use punctuation
(It’s there for a reason)
And capital letters
(For proper nouns)
Finish your sentence
(See how it sounds)
And rhyming won’t kill you
(This is a poem)
Say something smaller
(It’s all in the detail)
Say something greater
(What does it mean?)
Write of the seen
(No, of the unseen)
What does it matter?
(This is a poem)
Oops – I forgot the single line. I became computerless today and couldn’t check the assignment specs. Oh well, just imagine the bracketed parts were on the same line. I almost did it that way anyway…
[...] seventh assignment from 30 Poems in 30 Days… About forms and [...]
Fun poem CM: It is hard to underestimate the value of punctuation.
It’s cute! Nice ambiguity in last verse (er, line).
Mine is going to grow one day to a whole verse for each of the present lines!
I’m looking forward to reading that Rosemary. The long lines are awful to read on the computer. These things bring about amazing communication but sometimes get in the way of it too. But I wanted to know more when i read your list.
John: Sometimes I look at punctuation in my poetry and try putting it in and moving it around over and over again. Then I decide that it IS too difficult and delete all of it!
The list poems seemed to be harder than they looked on the surface. I think everyone had a little trouble, although I do like Rosemary’s Nostalgia Trip.
For me the difficulty was in restricting each item to just one line. Glad you liked it anyway!
Laws To Live By
Never judge-your not an expert
Be kind to others, they will do the same
love-for hate kills your soul
smile-frowns rot your spirit
Give-you’ll get back ten fold
Speak or you’ll never be heard
Listen-or you’ll never be trusted
Look at the moon it will look back
Smile at elders-you’ll learn something
Ask questions-information will be given
Give yourself a compliment-you’ll feel good
Share and you’ll be respected
Test your knowledge
Write a bad story (Poem)
Watch a movie with your eyes closed
Listen to your heart, give it leadership
(It’s still in construction, but these are the rules I try to live by everyday. The give yourself a compliment one is hard to do though.)
Loneliness
A bitter hole
Made of dark and gray
A swirling world wind engulfs me
But never making me whole;
Sour pain kills me
My heart aches
My eyes show of this;
For everyone to see;
Pain constricts my chest
Darkness drowns my eyes
Emotions flood my body
And none lay to rest
There’s darkness in the fear of sorrow
A clan of mutants;
Here for the terrible up bringing;
For my past will always follow
Traction skips
Doubts fill me
Questions fog my view
My mind flips
Your stair stings my eyes
I know you judge me
Will you be no more?
Or will you just walk by
My feelings show
On my skin;
Arms body
And soul;
I tremble
My skin gets clammy
Your eyes show me
Pure judgmental;
This is my action
My scars, self inflicted
And all my emotions;
But full intention;
A pit of resolutions;
I dig in deep
To find you crawling in my skin;
And swimming through my body’s solutions;
A face of interest;
But split at the knee;
I see you here
A coach of infest
Desolation I crawl;
For one way;
To reach a crutch;
With unnecessary relief, I fall
Bitter turmoil
Hardships clasp
Final destinies show in your eyes
They shine like foil
Unforgettable feelings;
Floating in a wave pool
But then, if not too soon;
Sink…
I sit alone now
But just hits like a brick wall
A fist lurches my stomach
The smell of fear is foul
Where will this go?
Will it come to an end?
To see you walk away;
Or will your care show
Panic arises
My heart pounds erratically
My chest screams in anguish
A handful of surprises;
Will you stay?
Or will you go?
I can promise you this
I will never again stray
My body bleeds
I fall into my puddle
Drinking my way out
The way I feed
The wreck below;
Under construction;
Waiting for me
For now, my body stays below zero
My body’s river;
Frozen under my skin
Frozen droplets
Which never stir
When will this end?
About the time I come out
Though hiding isn’t secret
My life will you defend
This is the world I live in
Destroyed and bloody;
A hole of oblivion;
And non-stops in;
This is my life of confusion
Take it or leave it
My emotional earthquake;
Not much fun.
But here I am
In front of your eyes
There you stand
I take your rough hands.
I’ve been so cold
A heart of ice
For we will both
Act just as bold.
You take me
Even with scars
The depths of my soul
I’m afraid you’ll see.
I’ve cut and bled
I’ve screamed in vain
You take me for who I am
You’ve shared my bed.
Yet I still feel lonely
I’m being held back
From chains on my limbs
My past is haunting me.
I’ve been beaten
I was sexually abused
My heart has been torn
Lonely I’ve been.
(Sorry that it’s so long, I just couldn’t stop writing. I hope that you enjoy it.)
Sorry I published this on the wrong page forgive me.
[...] 30 Poems in 30 Days: About Forms and Lists [...]
[...] 30 Poems in 30 Days: About Forms and Lists [...]
What the Body Knows
At last her lips, of course
Once, in a cluttered one-room squeezed into a walk-up hallway full of chipping red doors, her hands around mine, showing me what to feel
The open second button of her sweater
That accidental brush of the hair on her arm, and my weak knees
The rough patches on her fingertips when I hand her what she dropped
What she calls me when her breath hitches
Hot moist breath on my face
At last her lips, of course
Why I should have stayed in bed this morning.
I’m feeling really shitty and
I’m getting real depressed
The kids won’t listen to me
and my house is in a mess
I’m late for work again
The babies got a runny nose
Oh hell! I’ve got another run
in my f—ing pantyhose!
The toilets backed up
The dryer is broke
My car is a f—ing joke
I’m always up the creek
without a paddle or a boat
My old man is really getting
underneath my skin.
He’s acting like an A-hole
and he’s late from work again
I feel like I want to scream or
hold my breath until I choke
This day has been a nightmare
I need a rum and coke
I’m sick of cleaning, cooking, choosing,
God! it’s so confusing.
I just can’t ever seem to win
I’m too f—ing busy losing!
I’ve had it up to here
I can’t take it anymore
The world can kiss my ass!
I’m walking out the f—ing door!
Did I say say that? Please excuse my french…sorry