30 Poems in 30 Days: Repetition

Repeating Yourself

One of the central concepts of poetry, especially poetry in forms, is repetition. As poets we repeat sounds, syllables, words, syntax, meters, lines and stanzas. The use of repetition is one of the qualities of poetry that separates it from prose. In prose, repetition is rare and usually done to either increase clarity or to make a single point.

Repetition creates patterns. Whether the patterns are phonetic or syntactic, when people encounter these patterns they recognize them and respond to them. If you repeat the same word or line over and over again, the reader will assume that it has significance. If you repeat a sound (rhyme, alliteration, consonance) it links words or lines together. If you repeat a meter, it moves the poem forward and adds a musical quality to the poem. If you repeat syntax, it allows different ideas either form links or create contrasts.

Repetition is a tool. If used well, it adds to a poem through the links and patterns it creates. If used badly, it can become too obvious, creating predictability. Like any poetic tool, it should be used carefully and with intent. If you don’t know what you want to accomplish by using repetition, there’s a good chance you will misuse it.

Today’s Poetic Assignment

Write a poem that uses at least two different forms of repetition. Try to embrace at least one form of repetition that you don’t ordinarily use.

Today’s Recommended Poet

As a poet, Melissa Morphew is first and foremost an excellent storyteller. She writes mostly in a narrative voice about fictional and fictionalized subjects. Her descriptive skills are wonderful and her stories are surreal and beautiful. Be sure to read her newspaper interview, it is an excellent introduction into the world of poetry publishing and contests.

Latest Book

Fathom 2006

Poetry on the Web

Five Poems By Melissa Morphew

Four More Poems by Melissa Morphew

Poetry Across the Web

It’s been a bit hard to find poetry this week. The middle of August is usually pretty slow for just about everything on the web, and poetry is no exception. That said, I did find a few interesting pieces out there. Below are the links with my favorite lines:

Shower
my bicycle and I were running
to go out

Assurance
Yellow pulls across the hills and thrums,
or the silence after lightning

If I Was That Kind of Woman
All day I am a tuning fork
attracted to the slightest
hesitation in our voices

Summer
Spotted towhees flit here, there
Scrounging the next meal

Inversnaid
In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam
Flutes and low to the lake falls home.

Santa Monica Carousel
My horse left its pole
upshot, cloud by cloud
quick as a bullet in a dream

Existence
In one rose the mute insect
would not abdicate its existence

And finally, one from me…

Making it Through August
Sweaty
Grimy
Fat
Angry

Poetry Across The Web

It’s time for our weekly check of new poetry being written on the web. Poetry isn’t dead. You can still find it. It’s just living in Cleveland working three part-time jobs and taking public transportation. Here are some of the poems I found this week, accompanied by my favorite lines.

Cloudberries
they will
subside slowly to fewer than
you would ever have believed.

Thirsty
My heart is thirsty a lot
The cold water, your sweet smile only for me

Cool Hat
laundered until
it cries for mercy

Network Optimization
Bottom line, too many lumps of data with your tea.

How Does Your Garden
Lights flashing, another ambulance
not for me.

Out of the Blue
I don’t believe in suddenly. Nothing happens
all of the sudden,

Missing Epistle
You want my epistle.
I grasp it firmly in my hand usually

Moon Poem
the surface lit up like a discotheque
and the air hummed
like a refrigerator late at night.

Ode to My Dead PSP
My smelly roommate and his dirty cronies
Directly abused my handheld by Sony

Finally, here is one of my poems, all shiny and self-conscious…

The Curse of Low Colesterol
Flush with his degree
From the University of Nevada – Reno

This Week’s Poetry Across the Web

Another fresh vine of poetry has grown across the web this week. I have pruned it down to some nice little flowers. Enjoy…

Immortality
The cook’s right hand, lifted
an exact century ago,
completes its downward arc

unwritten meridian poem
the weapons-grade petulance

Poem for a Man with No Sense of Smell
the wet flush of my fear is sharp
as the taste of an iron pipe

Ghazal for a Comfort
Sometimes the hierarchy works, or looks to

The Stone Gatherer
Now I collect stones, and tell others
they are grave markers.

Pistachio
A spritz of soda, carbon captured, bubbles bursting;
Antiseptic odor effervescing from the glass.

The Iconoclasm of Mice
Mouse dung falls from overhead on books
I’ve made into icons in my writing house.

Starfish
So life lets you have a sandwich, and pie for your
late night dessert.

Just a Poem About Coffee
a man with sunglasses scans the menu
he walks out the front door empty handed

And one from me:

Big Heads
Each a random sampling of their parent’s failures
Cobbled together and mostly functional

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