30 Poems in 30 Days: About the Line
September 22, 2007 by John Hewitt
This is Day 19 of 30 Poems in 30 Days
Get in Line
The first and most recognizable difference between poetry and prose is the line. Poetry is written with line breaks and prose is not. While it is possible to write “prose poetry” without line breaks the reason it is called prose poetry is because it is written in a prose style. All other types of poetry rely on the line.
There are many ways to play with and manipulate the line in poetry. The most established way to define your line is the use of meter, which we have discussed several times already. Even when you use meter, it is far from the only consideration in the creation of a line.
One of the primary considerations in the use of the line in poetry is to determine the line break. Even if you use meter, you have to determine the number of feet in the meter you choose. Pentameter (generally a ten syllable line depending on the length of the feet) is going to have a much different feel than trimeter (generally a six syllable line). The first is around the length of the average sentence while the second is closer to the length of a phrase. Each creates a much different feel and rhythm.
The line is open to other sorts of manipulation beyond meter. One is the use of the enjambed line versus the endstopped line. An enjambed line breaks in the middle of a phrase or thought. An endstopped line finishes at the end of a sentence or a thought. The use of enjambment changes the rhythm of a poem and gives it a feel that is more like prose. It often results in readings that ignore line length entirely.
Another way that poets manipulate the line is through placement. They indent or otherwise displace a line, often to emphasize that line or to show a progression. These placements can often get quite intricate, with lines appearing in all sorts of locations on the page.
A final way to manipulate the line is length. With meter, there is generally (though not always) a consistent line length. When meter is not used, line length can be much more variable. Some poets manipulate this, following short lines with long lines, or combining line length and line placement to create shapes on the page. These poems are often called shape poems or pattern poems.
The key point, in my opinion, with any sort of line manipulation is that it should be done for a reason and it should enhance the reading of the poem. If a poem uses lines in a disruptive way, it can harm the overall experience of reading the poem and often says more about the poet than the poem. There is often a fine line between art and artifice. The more manipulative you get, the more you risk creating the latter.
Today’s Poetry Assignment
Write a poem that has a variable line length rather than a set meter. Use either enjammed or endstopped lines.
Today’s Featured Poet
Jennifer Perrine’s first book of poetry, The Body is No Machine
Sample Poems
Related links
- 30 Poems in 30 Days: Persona Poems (1.000)
- 30 Poems in 30 Days: About Forms and Lists (1.000)
- 30 Poems in 30 Days: A Brief Glossary of Meter (1.000)
- 30 Poems in 30 Days: The Good the Bad and the Meter (1.000)
- 30 Poems in 30 Days: Syllabic Verse (1.000)
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Friday, September 21, 2007
On Hearing of Her Death this Morning
On hearing of her death
There was at first
silence
With a lower case
The poems would have to wait
The dishes
fermenting in the sink
Would reek in a couple of days
I didn’t care
I didn’t even think of them
piling up in disbelief
like the years that lay between
us, the ugly words spoken
hastily breaking
the lines of communication
Her last grand exit astoundingly precise
leaving us all
breathless
speechless
With wonder at this amazing
Secret, this final dramatic performance
alone and so
absolutely
final
The applause is deafening and
Like the silence
final
with
No encore possible
Only the remnants of a life
executed with the precision
Of Stanislosky at his best
Or worst
As the role might be
She was indeed an amazing woman
And an amazingly tough woman
to know
her son said
There is more
And in time I may
speak of it
But today
I watch forty-years melt down the drain
Of regret, because in the end
There was only this silence
This terrible silence
This silence that
keeps on ringing
In my ear as I pull her pictures from
The scrapbook of our lives and only
want the manuscript returned.
Hey guys: I’m sorry, the line breaks did not appear as I inserted them and were terribly important to this poem. Thankfully I word processed it and have them. So, when you post your line break poem, be aware, unless you know something I don’t, that this feature will ignore them.
Just noting, for John – I’m very keen on Jennifer Perrine, too.
Connie: Thanks for the heads-up. I can now imagine your poem with lines indented, stepped across the page. Even so, I think it works well as it is.
she’s getting rowdy. cut that woman off citrus.
but it’s faster to read the dead than the living
you can catch up on what the dead have been doing
without them moving on
the decay, slow, think leaf duff
if you must, the pleasant autumn rust scent
there isn’t anything weighted about
gone
passed
crossed over
time spent with them gets a better return
on the investment, only helps you get what needs to be covered
the meniscus bend the reeds
the ripples the silt
like a cement to feeling foot
If you love the sacred and despise the ordinary, you are still bobbing in the ocean of delusion.” – Lin-Chi
no one ever says why that man
has average ears as a distinguishing feature
maybe there’s a double-shot apple to the pineapple
drink up
bring
refreshments to any hour, vision
the depth of field of face blurs distant, well
spumed, artesian to earth core
wonder when the white water
will convert
molt
the stone shell face
having flamed
poured
done
H2O
too deep for that, forget about digging to China
the plates or the country of cartoon people under the toupee drawn earth
we have to get past our imagined smelly chafe of dirt and water
find the veins that run oil in aquefers, lit with
miles away spark
firewall coming in grain and vein of pulp
Fat Anthem
When I’m hungry I eat
When I eat I eat what I like
Or what is convenient at least
And that is my undoing
I should be eating what I don’t like
I should eat less
Or I should eat more
Or I should keep a schedule
Whatever the case I should change my life
So that I don’t eat when I want
And I don’t eat what I want
And somehow that will make a difference
Maybe
Which would be fine
If it would end at some point
But it can’t end
You have to keep this up
One day
Next day
Forever
Because the moment you turn your back
Fat walks right through the door and sits down
I’ve seen you thin bastards
Eating whatever you want
Or suffering through a healthy meal
Wondering about my self control
My lack of discipline
Let me tell you something
You judgmental freaks
I drank those shakes for a year
I ate just meat and vegetables for a year
I ate no meat for eighteen months
I watched what I ate
I counted calories
I worked my ass off in the gym
Two meals a day
Three meals a day
Four meals a day
Five meals a day
And it worked
Or it didn’t
But sooner or later I want my life back
And it doesn’t rely on a conscious decision
Just a slip of the tongue
I want my food
I want to eat what I want to eat
And how many years will all this discipline buy me anyway
How many wretched
Food-obsessed years
Before I get my life back
Before I am free
Before I can relax in this damned war
Your diet doesn’t come with an exit strategy
So pardon my fat
Because I am through making myself miserable
Just so you can approve my lifestyle
A MEMORY
Riding away on your bike
its motor droning
on and on in the still night
as if that was
the only sound
and you
disappearing you
my single focus
the one point of consciousness into which
that whole hushed night
poured
stopped
hung
just before
it stretched out into
lengthening silence
on the endless road.
John: I really feel this one! (It’s fellow-feeling, actually.)
Connie: I feel yours too, in a different way.
Pearl: yours is amazing, “different”, and still reverberating for me. I particularly like the slangy beginning and the last 4 lines.
Pearl, love the rhythmic switches . . . the
catapult of line and word carrying me forward. And the nonsense of of it all. I’m sold on the double shot apple to the pineapple, I’ll take one of those.
[...] 30 Poems in 30 Days: About the Line [...]
Afternoon Snack
There are so many ways to find satisfaction!
Today,
the crust end
of a loaf of French bread,
the unwanted remnant of last night’s dinner,
inspired me to pull vinegar and oil
from my imagination,
and make something crusty
delicious.
Saul Nadatas last blog post..Dinner Party