How to Write Poetry: 12 ideas

Meanderer

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http://www.oprah.com/spirit/12-Ways-to-Write-a-Poem

Did you know that poems take root in the found objects and slammed doors of everyday life? You can write one. Really! Honor Moore leads the way.

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Let's say I'm sitting in that room with you now. Take out a pad and pen, your favorite pen—the one that just slides across the paper. Be sure you have an hour or so, so you can take your time with each prompt.


12 Ways to Write a Poem
Make a list of five things you did today, in the order you did them.
Quickly write down three colors.
Write down a dream. If you can't remember one, make it up.
Take 15 minutes to write an early childhood memory, using language a child would use.
Write a forbidden thought, to someone who would understand.
Write a forbidden thought, to someone who would not.
Make a list of five of your favorite "transitional objects." Choose one and describe it in detail.
Write down three questions you'd ask as if they were the last questions you could ever ask.
Write down an aphorism (e.g. "A stitch in time saves nine").
Write down three slant rhymes, pairs of words that share one or two consonants rather than vowels (moon/mine and long/thing are slant rhymes).
Write three things people have said to you in the past 48 hours. Quote them as closely as you can.
Write the last extreme pain you had, emotional or physical. If the pain were an animal, what animal would it be? Describe the animal.


Tips
Use one of the questions as the first line, each of the colors more than once, the slant rhymes, and the aphorism with a word or two changed.
Try using any part of, or all of, the material in any way you want—a line from your dream might work well on its own or your description of the animal might better describe your great uncle.
Let the poem be between 20 and 30 lines; let each line be 10 or more syllables long. Think of the poem as a dream or a psalm you are inventing, and don't force it. Write in your own speech, allowing its music and sense to speak through you.
No human experience is unique, but each of us has a way of putting language together that is ours alone.
 

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From Garrison Keillor:

A vegan with nothing to do
Picked up a sandwich to chew
And took a big bite
And cried out in fright,
"OMG! WTF! BBQ!"


 
...wrote my own Burma Shave set this fine morn:

Growin Old........And a Beard......Better Shave....Don't Look......Weird.......Burma Shave :)
 

Along the Florida Turnpike are a few Burma Shave inspired safety messages.

A couple I can think of...

Don't loose your head

To save a minute

You need your head

Your brains are in it.

And...

Better Try

Less Speed Per Mile

Car and Driver


May Have To


Last a While




 
In my opinion poetry should be spontaneous, not contrived!

I agree with you Justme that it is a mechanical method, but hey... "No human experience is unique, but each of us has a way of putting language together that is ours alone".
I would think this method would give the writer more control, and the spontaneity would surface during the preparation. I am going to try it, and will share the results.:)
 
No good writing or poetry is spontaneous. To do it well is hard work and takes focused effort, even for most of our best artists. Of course most are driven to make work easier, even fun. That is not to say a poem can not be whipped out, even a good one, but to be a poet or writer of consequence, takes focused effort. Now, then, I withdraw this statement. It was only food for thought anyway.
 
No good writing or poetry is spontaneous. To do it well is hard work and takes focused effort, even for most of our best artists. Of course most are driven to make work easier, even fun. That is not to say a poem can not be whipped out, even a good one, but to be a poet or writer of consequence, takes focused effort. Now, then, I withdraw this statement. It was only food for thought anyway.
...thanks drifter, we'll chew on that for awhile.
 
Road Of Duty by Jim

My life is like a game of cards.
I sleep with pistols, hat and vest,
alert for alien villains and cads.
“Why me”, I ask again and again,

as I hide my green and orange food.
My leg carries the sting of a colored snake.
“Life will never be fair”, say the trees,
“Our leaves will find their way to you”.

Under a soft blanket, youth is a blunder.
I awake and dress, a question near.
I am feeling blue under a rain of orders,
and ask “Where do I go from here”?

As I fall to my knees, manhood a struggle,
they come and go these many faces.
I wear a green uniform of sorts under
a wall of orange and blue houses.

“When will things get better”? Old age is regret,
It is not a picnic on your knees.
Watering new grass, birds arrive,
careless in the care of God.
 
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If my poem doesn't rhyme
It probably a waste of time
Aphorisms are not for the intellectual
They make one feel ineffectual
So I'll say my words clearly
Maybe someone will hold them dearly
Why else would I write
If my words only bite

:yoda::yoda::banana::pepper:
 
If my poem doesn't rhyme
It probably a waste of time
Aphorisms are not for the intellectual
They make one feel ineffectual
So I'll say my words clearly
Maybe someone will hold them dearly
Why else would I write
If my words only bite

Ina, there is no pass or fail here! Your poem rhymes and makes sense. You clearly have "Rhyme" on your hands!:)
 
Quotation-Carl-Sandburg-woman-man-birth-child-Meetville-Quotes-71467.jpg
 


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