Now how to write a poem that makes some sense.
It seems that all I have is but a pence.
I used to think in rhyme most all the time,
but now I cannot seem to work a rhyme.
It’s difficult to meter work for me.
A noise of free verse’s all that I can see.
Now how to write a poem that makes some sense.
Where are you Keith? I need to work and hence
I’ve nothing left but teaching what I knew.
I know naught of but what I was and who.
My heart is strong now, science staved my death.
A bypass gives me more than just my breath.
But how to write a poem that makes some sense
when all I have is but that single pence.
I need to write, but cannot find the nerve,
for poets need some arrogance and verve.
Apr 14, 2017
My Plague
About This Poem
Last Few Words: I have not written in two years. Quadruple bypass surgery took one of them from me, but that is no excuse. I could have written in the hospital. It seems the muse has left me. I need Rula and all the new poets here at NeoPoet. I hope for the chance to run a workshop and know that I can, but first I must write. Thanks to Jess for all.
Style/Type: Structured: Western
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft
Comments
Hello Audri.
It is a distinct pleasure to meet you.
I have read some of your work (despite it is free verse... brrr). I like your sensibilities. I hope to see more and different. Have you considered writing in a structured fashion? I'm betting you could if you wanted to.
As for "arrogance"... doesn't a poet need a serious amount? After all, we write that others might read. Right now my nerve seems to have deserted me. Maybe I need to run a workshop.
What do you think?
Let me tell you a tale.
I will make it short if I can.
Some years ago I met Rula (you'll know her from her excellent poetry).
At the time she wrote (she will forgive me)... drivel.
We spent a great deal of time together and in the end she writes now better than I.
I taught her meter and rhyme. Structure and tense. A thousand other things and had a joy doing so on both sides of the aisle.
Petrarch, Shakespeare and Spencer. We wrote little poems and large.
I desperately need a project and if you wish to write a sonnet I would be MORE than happy to help you master the art.
Does this sound like I am forcing myself upon you?
I am.
As I said... I need a project and teaching is all I have ever done. From voice to ballroom dancing. I now teach horseback riding. I have run more workshops here than I can count (why yes, I am bragging). I have the skills, the desire and at the moment the need.
If you are interested I am here at your disposal.
I am quite serious.
It is challenging indeed.
However, a sonnet is not free form. There are rules and it would not be painful for me in the least. Let me ask you a question first. What do you know of meter? That is the first step. Understanding meter is not only required to write a sonnet, but it is a critical aspect of free form. Without a sense of meter you are simply writing stream of consciousness (not necessarily a bad thing). Wait please to write your next poem so that we may have a conversation. PM me please, so that we can have an easier way of communicating (if you are still interested). I am ready and even anxious to show you what I have to share.
Hello Remark.
Good to meet you.
Thank you for your comment of any sort.
The poem is drivel, but it is a start.
Very hard to write.
I didn't write in the hospital. I was too scared out of my poetic mind. Sadly, that would have been the perfect time to write, but... well.
What was your ailment?
Wesley
We have waited for your return, now stop all this stuff about Muses deserting you. Give me their names I shall rebuke them.
One day when you are back in your stride we can resurrect the epics and carry on with your excellent work.
The epics can be a side edition to your writing and teaching.
Great to see your words here again, know that we missed you,
Yours, as always, Ian.T, Yenti, Sparrow, and the children..
Morning Wesley, well, it is
Morning Wesley, well, it is morning here in good old Blighty.
I understand a little of what it is to write and then suddenly find you can't for what ever reason.
I am going through a similar experience. Nothing for about a year, not a bit of poetry in me, then suddenly the bones of a poem drop in my lap and I'm struggling to translate it on to paper.
Keep at it, that door will unlock. Jx
Thank you for your visit.
Writers block is terribly frustrating (especially after having written so much). Please (if you have the inclination) look into my poetry and read Echoes. I think it represents what I used to produce and would very much like you to read it.
I do so hope that door will open soon. Maybe being back here will help.
I will look in on some of your work post haste.
Is this the poem?
Echoes (Stan's Contest)
Submitted by wesley snow on Fri, 2014-11-21 23:21
I lay awake a night of squalling rain
and list for that I heard once long ago,
of pipe and string that plied a mournful strain,
an Elfish song of sorrow, sage and slow.
‘Twas heard by me the first when but a child,
a song of ruthe amidst a nameless storm.
Though lyricless it spoke of faith defiled
and false respect that took a heinous form.
Strange tears I shed that cold and anxious night.
The song was as a shaft that sought my heart
and I could feel refrains of lonesome flight.
Their nocturne quavered, they would soon depart.
Why would they play in such, these minstrels fey
and near, so near, to open window mine?
What magic spell they plied I cannot say,
but I do not forget that graced design.
And so I listen when the evening wind
is full of rain in hopes to ken the tune.
But I, full well, know all they shall rescind
when Faerie flees Man’s drear and graying moon.
That's the one.
I always liked it and it is representative of what I used to write when I wrote. Thank you for reading it. I am honored you took the time.
What do you think of it though?
Wesley
I have now read your poem, I wanted to find a time when I actually had the time to read and digest it.
A beautifully crafted poem in what I see as almost a ballad form. However, you know far more than I about form and metre etc, so you may well not agree with the' ballad' genre label.
It has pathos, a magical, mythical feel and the language is superb
You write in a very different style to me, I suspect you've been doing it a lot longer. You write on a higher, more complex plane, which certainly on my part means I have to concentrate to understand all the references. This is a good thing, I think it stretches the reader and in turn helps them develop their own poetry writing. I tend to write from personal experience, and although my vocabulary knowledge is broad, my turn of phrase is definitely of the common tongue.
This site humbles me, the breadth of knowledge and depth of experience available to us all is immense. I for one am learning to develop as a poet - and reading poems like yours are key to helping me achieve my goal.
Jxx
DEAR SIR!
I thought this is not bad at all for someone who hasn't written anything for such a long time. You have always been a source of inspiration for me at least whether you knew it or not. I see everyone here is backing you, (including me). I know you won't disappoint any.
Looking forward to reading more of yours.
Ps. I can't tell you how happy I am at the moment. Can you hear me singing "Yes, He IS BACK, HE IS BACK"
Yes, I am back.
For what it's worth. You know I am so proud of what you have become. Everything you write reminds me of our work together. You have become a superior poet. Much better than I ever was.
I love you Rula. From my heart... I dearly care.
Be careful in Jordan. I fear for you.
In Arabic
there is a proverb, I don't know an equivalent of it in English, that says :" the eye can never go higher than the brow", meaning the student can never go superior to his master.
That is not true.
The student, if properly taught, will always outdo the teacher. That is what we call progress and that is why poetry continues to improve.
your return inspires me
I wonder if you still remember me
you tried your best
to sharpen my mind
but in the meantime I became partially blind
and
now nature's aged reward
I have lost my ears
and
deaf as I am
can't hear
So despite your efforts to sharpen me
Snow man I missed thee
With a newer heart
fresh poetry shall be your reward
for two decades at the very least
hopefully!!!
you will recall this poet
generally silly now
Jane and Rula also don't read me
hope you will
still!
Always will I read you dear.
Always.
and oh
the title is very expressive.
It is a plaque indeed.
What to write. How to write. I have not touched the big poem in two years. It will never be finished I fear, but at least I have something to read beyond comic books.
To all.
Thank you for your encouragement. It means more than I can express.
Wesley
Where do my thoughts lay,
Do they dwell in my heart
If this were so I would know
They would have stopped
For a while and rested.
I think that thoughts true
From such as me or you
Can only come from the soul
Now you say they have stopped
Yet you still ask where they dwell
Talk to that inner self and see
Look with the mind inside
There in the vast pool of energy
Dwells all that is you and me
Seek out those new words
That have lost direction
Remember that you live in the now
Let us hear your now thoughts.
Things have been bypassed,
I know of cities that are so
Yet the city still functions
Is there less stress now
Or are we going to invent ????
Yours as always, a new Sparrow..
Thank you Sparrow.
I will try.
Welcome Back
I have certainly missed our chats. Looking forward to working with you again.