The Shape of Poetry

When I began writing this story, my original intention was to create a one-hundred-word microfiction. But it grew too large.

Okay, my next thought was to use it as a journal entry, but it didn’t seem to fit. Then I realized that I had created a 'tweener'.

What is a tweener?

A tweener is a creation that is either too big or too small (in between) for its original intention. Normally, I would simply delete a tweener (or file it somewhere for future use).

But this subject (poetry) is important to me.

Final thought on the subject: Make it a short story, and if nobody reads it, then that’s okay.

~ D

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The Shape of Poetry

Why do I love poetry so much?

I have written stories in almost every genre that I know of, and a few mixtures as well. Yet I keep returning to poetry. Why? What exactly is it about poetry that never seems to lose its appeal for me?

I decided to explore this topic further.

So, I consulted the experts. People who study poetry.

A recent study (Smithsonian Magazine) found that ‘vivid imagery’ is the best predictor of a poem's appeal. Makes sense to me. I read for escapism. I want to imagine and see images to escape with. A fantasy world that exists within my own mind.

There must be more to it than just imagery, right?

I mean, I could create a poem with a vivid image of a bottle cap in the dirt. Let’s say it is the most vivid description of a bottle cap that you have ever read. Would that be enough to move you? To touch your emotions? I think not.

So, there must be more than just great imagery to make a good poem, don’t you agree?

So much for the experts; maybe I'd better check a better source. Me! I love poetry and always have. What makes a poem great for me?

Okay, let’s see. I like poetry with pace. Poetry with tone. Poetry that excites me. Poetry that contributes to my personal growth. Something with a new angle that I hadn’t considered before. A poem where I feel like I have learned something. I really love poetry that makes me learn something about myself. I am not a big fan of poetry that is so vague that the topic is completely elusive.

PACE: What do I mean by pace?

Let’s go to the master to explain this one. William Shakespeare’s poetry has survived for centuries. Why? I would argue that he was the master of pace. The rhythm he used in writing his poetry (English sonnets) has been called the heartbeat of life. The technical name is iambic pentameter.

What the heck is iambic pentameter?

It is simply a metrical pattern where each line consists of five iambs, or 'heartbeats', with an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable. Like a heartbeat, da-DUM, da-DUM, five times. Shakespeare’s poetry has been described as musical. Much of Hip Hop music follows the iambic pentameter, or at least the iambic beat. elicit

TONE: What do I mean by tone?

Tone is emotional. The voice. It can be either positive or negative about a subject. If a poem elicits emotions from me, I usually like it. Whether or not I agree with the poem is irrelevant. If a poem makes me feel, it works for me.

EXCITEMENT: What do I mean by excitement?

I would call it emotional arousal, maybe. It would be a measurement of the ‘degree’ of emotion the poem brings to me. The poem could be stimulating or even relaxing. But it must elicit some degree of excitement. Make my pulse race, or my heart pound.

PERSONAL GROWTH: What do I mean by this one?

An overused expression is ‘catharsis’. I find good poetry to be cathartic. What the heck does that mean? Catharsis in poetry refers to the ‘emotional release’ or purification that the reader experiences.

Catharsis is an ancient Greek word that goes back to Aristotle. The ancient Greeks were big on writing and plays with a tragic theme. These tragedies were popular.

Why?

Because reading or watching a tragedy allows the audience to confront and purge their own strong emotions. Aristotle realized this resulted in a strong sense of renewal and relief.

I’m not saying that I believe that poetry must be tragic or sad to be good. No, what I am saying is that (for me) a poem must be emotional. A poem must make me feel something to be a good poem.

I have found that (for me) reading poetry (good poetry) leads me to self-reflection. Self-reflection is the process that allows me to improve as a person. Self-reflection provides me with deeper personal insight. If you want to grow, learn, and become a better person, you must learn self-reflection.

Therefore, good poetry promotes self-growth.

Heck, great poetry can be transformative. Great poetry can change a person, a culture, or an entire world!

Poetry is universal. Poetry can cross both physical and cultural boundaries. Poetry allows us to find common ground with one another.

Poetry is fundamental!

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See below a copy of the first poem I ever wrote. I was fortunate to see it published numerous times in numerous languages. The poem was my way of describing how it felt to teach incarcerated felons inside (face-to-face) two state prisons in Northern Ohio.

I never shared this poem with anyone for six months after I wrote it. I was afraid that people wouldn’t like it or, worse, make fun of it. It took me a while to realize that if you want to be a poet (or writer), you must grow a thick skin and learn to accept criticism.

This poem (Hold On) is also included in my poetry chapbook, ‘Perceptions of a Poetic Soul’. Available free on the Inkspired Platform.

~ D

Hold On

I pierce the gates;

I see the sun rising on walls, fences, and dying dreams.

I know these men now, and I can perceive this place clearly

through eyes wide open.

The effects of the broken long arm of the law suffocate this

place.

I know these men now and can attend their cry,

“How long must I abide in this place?”

And I respond to them calmly, declaring,

“Hold on, nothing lasts forever!”

As I tread through the Yard,

a maze of anger, waste, and deceptive schemes.

I know these men now and can attend their cry,

“I am so alone, I do not feel like myself.”

And I respond to them calmly, declaring,

“Hold on, there is still much good in the world!”

It constantly feels cold in this place;

It permanently smells of piss and dead passions.

I know these men now and attend their cry,

“Can I watch it all burn?”

And I respond to them calmly, declaring,

“Hold on, do not surrender, hope is eternal!”

I leave this place at the end of my brief day,

while others must remain bound.

I know these men now;

I attend the untold places in my heart,

where sincerity persists.

My dread, all is only a shell of hollow platitudes,

“Tomorrow, it will start over again?”

And I respond to myself, calmly declaring,

“Hold on, for one more day!”

END