Thursday, 6 September 2012

My Poetry Takes A New Direction

In answer to the questions I posed to myself in a recent post, the Difference between amateur and professional poetry, I have been trying out a new way of writing poetry.

I am not sure if this makes my poetry any better, if it is any good at all, or indeed if I like it. However I am determined to "improve" my writing and this is very much an experiment to see how things work out. Thus far I have approached poetry as a means of entertainment. Coming from writing songs, my poetry was simply an extension of my lyrics. However the more I read about poetry, it seems that poetry should be more than this. I am not sure that I agree and this seems to be very much an academic view but to get anywhere in the various poetry writing contests and potentially getting published, one needs to join in with the fashions as set by those academics.

I intend to write a post about my feelings on this very soon. But for now, here is my newest poem:-


Summer recedes,
days lengthen,
nights draw in.
Warm clothing erupts from hiding
deep in wardrobe recesses.
The year creeps on.

Shadowed trees
Proudly silhouetted
Against a darkening evening sky.
Leaves whisper,
“We are still here”.
Soon colours yellow, gold red and ochre
will carpet the ground
beneath those ancient giants,
boughs reaching
to the sky above.
The year grinds on.

Autumn extravaganza
Harvested and stored,
Larders bulging.
Winter arrives
The year slides around.

Almost a bout of free writing but there was a lot of editing involved. However, there is still not much use of metaphors and word pictures. Maybe I still need to work on it, leave it a couple of weeks and come back again; see where I can take it?

The project continues ....................

Saturday, 1 September 2012

The Wind and I, a poem for September

The Wind And I

I battled the wind to work today,
A friendly little bout.
No doubt I won and won quite fair,
His fingers ruffled my well-combed hair
But I won without a doubt.

He called upon his friend the rain,
To help out with the match
Far too late to change his fate,
The result never was under debate
This was, and is my patch.

After rain the heavy brigade
And now here comes the hail.
Solid chunks of ice came sparring,
Joined the fray; set teeth a jarring
But it was all to no avail.

At this he became so angry
He blew up quite a storm.
Thunder, lightening, nothing spared
For damage done he little cared.
I watched eyes full of scorn.

Such a frightening temper tantrum
The like you never saw.
But I kept calm, and would not flinch
I would not budge, no not an inch
His attitude? Shock and awe.

After this he calmed right down
Embarrassed by my scorn.
The damage done, no going back,
No way to take a different tack,
His locks had now been shorn.

His strength abated, the sun returned
The spoiled child was done.
Gentle breezes plied the air
He almost wished he wasn’t there,
A new day had begun.

This is probably the first time I have written a poem with a five lined verse or stanza (aka quintain). Not sure how it came about but I had the first two lines in the first stanza and also the 4th and 5th lines. I couldn't figure out to to put them together, until I decided to complete the stanza with a line rhyming with the second line. It's good to try something different, yes?

In fact, I had just updated a Squidoo lens that I wrote explaining how a poem entitled the wind had been written. I completed the lens with pictures and information on the New Orleans disaster. The update was to add the issues with hurricane Isaac, this year (almost to the day) causing new fears for the residents of New Orleans. Luckily this year the flooding was far less severe.