On Writing Poetry for Fame and Fun

A couple of years ago I enrolled in some WordPress classes. They were free, and served to help in learning the WP system, and meeting new like-minded people online. Short stories, flash-fiction, various forms of poetry, and educational or informative opinion pieces. Photography classes were fun and instructional. All of the classes were interactive, no pressure—there was a daily assignment and interactive chat rooms and commentary. Students were free to do a project that was “assigned,” do something else, skip the exercise altogether. There was no judging, no right or wrong, everybody’s work was respected no matter what.

My favorite was Poetry Class. I suppose I learned some poetry forms back in literature classes in high school, but most of that information I either ignored or filed away back in my file-cabinet-brain. To this day I love reading poems out loud. There is something about poetic meter that is as deep as song, and pulls me out of the doldrums or self-pity-dumps within my soul.

My favorite example is in these first six lines of the classic account of the famous (if factually lacking) poem by e.e.cummings.

The first poetry that comes to mind to this very day is e.e.cummings’ classic account of the famous (if factually lacking) poem about Christopher Columbus. Hear are the first six lines

(Here we go: let our eyes glide over the words of the opening line::)
“In fourteen hundred and ninety two
Columbus sailed the ocean blue.
He had three ships and left from Spain;
He sailed through sunshine, wind and rain.
He sailed by night; he sailed by day;
He used the stars to find his way.”

(Now, let’s try it again, with emphasis:)
” In FOURteen HUNdred NINEty Two
ColUMbus SAILed the OCean BLUE!
He HAD three SHIPS and SAILED from SPAIN
He SAILED through SUNshine, WIND and RAIN
He SAILED by NIGHT; he SAILED by DAY;
He USED the STARS to FIND his WAY.”

Doesn’t that metered rhyme add a poke and a jog to the reading?

[to be continued…]

A haiku based on Eugi’s October 21 challenge word: “ghostly”

I am enjoying writing and posting weekly responses to word challenges proposed by EUGI’S CAUSERIE. Here is the URL so my readers can add your own contributions. Every week there is a new word. https://amanpan.com/2020/10/22/sharing-responses-to-eugis-weekly-prompt-ghostly-kittys-verses-the-bag-lady-anotherkatewilson-tinytotspoetry-z-z-poetry-joseph-r-mason/

Surreal patterns dance
propelled by ghostly
shadows on the win
d

( © Sometimes, 2020)

once there was a man who died…

Once there was a man who died
and no one knew what to do—
or even who would decide.

Mourners sighed
and wrung their hands, and cried—
“What a shame! Such a wasted life!”
and embarked on self-righteous lectures.

“Well I,” said God, with a nod
“… have no doubts—for it is I who decide—
and I say he shall ever sit by My side.”

“Where he remains for eternity
is not subject to debate and
conjecture.”

©Sometimes, 2020

Farewell the Muse

… and yet again with an oldie from “back in the day.”

SOMETIMES

I’ll never write another word
–ever– I think, maybe a bit longer.

The Muse has left me, alone and mute
singing quietly inside…but it isn’t writing
not bringing forth words of rhyme
or golden thoughts or phrases that soar
with the uplifting quality that speaks of fulfillment
of the annunciation of the soul
(if that is even the right word.)

What does that mean?   My Muse does not respond.
Silence echoes across the lines, across the fields,
rich and full, and absence of sensation…or character.
There is no solution, no evolution…no rhythmic flow
of syllables, or stanzas, flights of fancy…
clever ways to express a notion
…or just to form  a simple phrase–
no silver tinged sunsets,
no tales from the depths of despair…
no soaring ecstasy of the bliss of a kiss.
Words which once were at the edges of my
repertoire –within easy reach of the empty…

View original post 62 more words

New Title…update on post about assonance poems…examples from poets like Edgar Allen Poe (re-blogged from yourdictionary.com )

http://examples.yourdictionary.com/examples-of-assonance-poems.html

 

Yesterday’s post reminded me of how much I enjoyed the poetry classes I and about a thousand other bloggers participated in last year.   The classes were so popular they had to shut enrollment down…I think.    The moderators presented us with some really obscure, to me anyway, terms and forms of poetry.    I dimly remember poetry classes in school back in the dark ages, the days of my lightheadedness and depth of my soul combined to write really bad poems about lust and love and despair at ever experiencing either.

Having re-read my favorite nonsense poem about the anteater and the eel, my contribution to the assignment for the day, which was Assonance.    Reading the poem again I realized that I had no clue as to exactly what assonance was, so I googled it.  The link that came up is just marvelous…and made me SO jealous of the famous zealots that wrote and wrote their hearts out back in their day.

One word of guidance…poetry that rhymes and/or possesses a metric cadence just cries out to be read out loud, line by line, not mumbled silently and skimmed for meaning.

I belabor the obvious here, again, and state that I am not a poet.    I respect poetry, I do, and although I understand the agony of who are dead serious about writing and rhyming.   For me the main rule is that any piece of writing, poetry or novel, song or joke…needs to have meaning.

A bit of toe-tapping helps get in the mood.    Jumping rope always sets the pace too…   “Dan and Susie sittin’ in a tree, k.i.s.s.i.n.g….”    sorry, I wasn’t well enough coordinated to jump rope effectively.

http://examples.yourdictionary.com/examples-of-assonance-poems.html

[This is a good article, and fun to read…even for those who don’t give a fig about what assonance means.]

Direct Line…reblogging myself again

Here is another of my early poems from back in the day (Oct. 2015 in this case…
Redundancy intended.)

Direct Line

The Moon, far away as it is bright
dims the brighter light of the stars
My eye sight follows the path of that light
passing the light-years between

Knowing full well the facts of the Moonlight
reflecting the light of the Sun,
it nevertheless leads me to imagine
that the Moon makes its own light from within.

Even if Galileo himself, who charted the Sun,
were to explain with patience and tact
I still would ignore him and blissfully say:
“Please don’t confuse me with facts.”

©Sometimes, 2015

Stranger than Fiction: again

This is one of my personal favorite assignments from writing class last year…in response to rules that the work be a limerick and contain certain other attributes of writing poetry.    I had great fun writing it—

THE DONALD’S MARCH TO INFAMY

There once was a boy named Donald
Who wanted to be rich, and grow up to be President
ha ha! said the people as he started to
stump
but he knew what he was doing and had all the cards he needed to
trump,
and win the game
opponents screamed like angry cat matrons
and picked on his hair and his noisy patrons
but Donald just said they should “lump it!”

“You haven’t a chance, you’re not one of us,” they wailed
“is that so?” said Donald as he placed a standing order for tea and crumpets
to serve to his fans to keep them from starving on the campaign trail
His crowd of the faithful grew and grew
’til they filled the land
so they bought him a very big trumpet.

© Sometimes, 2015

Why are we here? Why do we Blog?

 

Why Blog?

All it takes to write in a Blog
Is a Writer who is a Blogger
and a Reader who reads Blogs.

If someone is reading that Blog
–even if the blog is about nothing–
then all the components are there:

the Blogger blogs,
and the Reader reads.
And IF he is reading,
and she is blogging,
then there is a connection…
a piece of her mind
–for good or for bad–
is read and ingested
and taken to heart

.So what if the Post is about Nothing?

If its being read… someone is interested,
this is obvious right from the start.
The Key to blogging may be
not so much clever phrases
or figures of speech
as simply a communication.

So, if a blog is about Something
then it can’t be about Nothing.

What does that all mean?

If one is blogging…
well, they are blogging.
and if Reading?
Thank you for reading along!

©Sometimes, 2015

Welcome 2018! Pondering resolutions for the New Year…

 

ONE resolution: this year SOMETIMES (THE BLOG) will return to the my Top, #1, Main Pursuit…..every day.

Last year, 2017, was not my best year for writing and working on my blog.    Current events interfered with my goal, which was to put writing with a capital W at the top of my “things to do list.”      Oh sure, my postings were more or less regular, but heavy on the Re-blogs borrowed from other bloggers.

Also, over the year 2017  I posted a lot of my own posts from past years, and many photos gleaned from my hobby of photography, dear to my heart and fairly popular with followers.     The pursuit of bright flowers and trees, and the odd-ball occasional photo that inspired and illustrated the blog entries.       And Poetry…a newfound love thanks to WordPress courses which brought quite a number of acquaintances and blog-friends in trading our poetic masterpieces.    It was in these groups that I found the joys of writing Haiku, and other fancy poetic forms, and my favorite– “free-form” poetry.

So I pledge to follow my true love of writing into the Y2018.    Instead of whining and thinking up reasons why I can’t write, I will just DO it.     Just sit down and write.    Also, I spend a lot of time writing in notebooks….and on envelopes, scraps of newspaper, any handy source for writing on.

I’m already a day late with the “every day” pledge.   My post featuring Marilyn Monroe and Ella Fitzgerald…singing “Tropical Heatwave” should go a ways to redeem my lagging sagging New Year Resolutions.

So… see ya all on the blogosphere.   How’s that for “trite?”   🙂

 

Betrayal in Utah—a Sad Poem

Bears Ears—Listening in Pain

Sacred are the lands once protected
by more honorable men…
betrayal stings by smiling lies

Navaho gods are weeping,
for the fork-tongued leader
has betrayed their hearts

Let thunder crash as the deed
becomes known in shameful terms—
greed and deceit are the law of the land

Drums echo in the desert valleys,
vibrating the monuments of the ages
now damp with tears of the betrayed.

As the horrors and heartbreak meet
where arrows once flew…perhaps again?
Fate twists the work of Evil… to wreak revenge.

©Sometimes, 2017