Showing posts with label Old school junk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Old school junk. Show all posts

Friday, March 15, 2013

The New Poetry Journal

old poetry journal cover featuring some of the poets
whose work I studied during the course
It's been almost four years since I completed my undergrad in writing. 

Many friends from the program I attended have gone off and on to amazing MFAs, have published pretty significantly, or have become technical writers, content writers, slam poets of note, blog writers, adjunct professors, poetry award winners, and writers on the sides of many other things like myself. 

I feel that I have lost my academic discipline, rigor, and mind-set to the point that even keeping to a simple writing schedule has been challenging because of all the transitions of life. I think that discipline and rigor are important. Write, draft, write, draft, etc. and all the reading and living and absorbing that goes along between the writings and redraftings. . . and then of course there's the finishing and the sending off part (because too many of us never even try publishing, even in a world where publishing has become as simple as this blog post). 

Writing needs to be a practice. It needs to have some sort of routine or anchor. 


example pages from old poetry notebook featuring found poetry
and one of the poetry experiments form the class

I've been wanting to get back into writing in a disciplined way, with goals and deadlines, projects and brainstorms, research and more research. I especially have been wanting to get back to this work because I feel obligated. I make claims sometimes that I am a writer, a poet, and there are people who are asking me to either perform work or submit something, and there are still others asking if I might host a workshop, salon, or another non-sequitur exquisite corpse party. I feel obligated, not only to those calls and inquiries but to my own call which becomes an anxious one if I am not doing this work. That call trumps any fear that my work might suck or that it might not mean anything to anyone.

I wasn't sure how to start. I own more than 2000 books, at least two bookshelves of which contain poetry anthologies and chapbooks, books about craft, books about poets, books of letters from poets to poets, etc. It's just too overwhelming. Aside from the library, there are the local poets I want to keep tabs on, the poets from the hub of my home town, friends from school, and I of course want to keep up with and continually hone my own craft. 

In college, one of my professors had us make a Poetry Journal in one of her classes so that we could really marinate over poems and poets we learned about during the course of the class. In the books, we tried out poetry experiments, looked for and pasted in found poetry, pictures of things, pictures of poets, and works of theirs that we had copy-changed. We listed quotes that we liked from the poems, pasted in lines, stanzas, wrote our thoughts about them, wrote letters to the poets we admired and asked them questions, told them what we thought. . . .


a collection of favorite lines from some of the
poems of Mina Loy.
I have thought about that journal off and on since then. I have even posted a couple of things from that journal onto this blog with the intention of posting more (see "Accessible Poetry First," as an example). Things have been transitioning for me so I haven't been able to scan what pages I really want to include but I have many blank notebooks and lots of pens. 

Last night, I opened up Poet Laureate Natasha Trethewey's book Thrall and I couldn't get past the two first quotes on the page preceding the contents and the poems. I was reminded of my old poetry journal from class, found one of my blank moleskins and made my very first little entry, the quotes, my thoughts about them, and soon, there will be snippets featuring lines that I like best, quotes from the poet, and perhaps even some of my own work as response. I am excited about this because it feels like direction. It's an assignment, self-assigned, and an anchor back into the discipline, an anchor of study that relates directly to craft.

Friday, June 22, 2012

Here's Something Fun -- The Copy-Change (or imitation) Poem and a Boff


One of the prompts that keeps coming up in poetry classes is the copy-change, or imitation poem. I've seen the exercise again and again since probably the third grade. Essentially, you choose a poem and use it as the skeleton for a new poem that you create. For more information about this prompt or method, check out this link

I generally don't like the exercise (despite its value, which I agree can assist in teaching how poems can work in a bit of a training wheels kind of way). I tend to either make a joke out of the copy-change or redraft the copy change to make my own poem. Tonight I wanted to share one of the jokes and perhaps at another time, I will share one of the redraftings. Below follows my copy change poem from a 2006 poetry class after Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken. I hope the poem evokes a few chuckles. =)



The Pee Not Taken: A Parody that Will
Surely Send Frost to Haunt Me From His Grave

Two seconds before my gates unleash,
And sorry I didn't take a pee
Before my leaving, I clench my teeth
And look down the path far's I can see
Where I might crouch by a bush to pee;

Then hold my nethers, as best I can,
And walking perhaps slowly is best,
Because I'd hate to wet my clutching hands;
Though hands soaked can't match soaking pants
And stained legs, dreading the sodding rest,

Both pants, hands in danger of the leak
Unleashed over leaves finally.
Oh, that I dread my neighbor's toilet seat!
Although my house is just up the street
I doubt I can make it successfully.

My neighbor will remind with a scoff
Someday ages and ages hence:
How I stubbornly ran out and off--
I became the man in this boff,
And sorrowfully ruined my pants.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Resurrection of Old School Junk as Blog Fodder (!)

For a long time now I have been trying to figure out what to do with the crap ton of files, paperwork, essays and junk that I have accumulated from my undergrad career. Further, I have wanted to utilize my blog more actively to both show that I have done some work and that I intend to continue work as a writer and such.

So, as I go through boxes upon boxes of things, throwing things out and of course organizing the keepers, I'll share what I can and hope for readers and their feedback.

If nothing else, this will be a portfolio, of sorts and a way for me to share some things that I would not otherwise send out to publishers. I would rather not sit on or forget these things. They are easily lost. Further, unearthing them, for me, has been some sort of fun!