Mechanical poetry - part three - poetry
Have you ever read the lyrics of a Simon and Garfunkle song? Pure poetry. Want to write poems like that? Start repetition them. Let me explain.
The Myth Of Creativity
Creativity is a bit of a myth. It isn't that it doesn't exist, but people's ideas about it are mis-informed. Many deem that to be creative is to come up with amazing from tip to toe new. There isn't an dancer or inventor out there who has done this.
Somebody had to write the first four-line verse or haiku poem, right? Now is all and sundry that uses these forms an uncreative copy-cat? No, of classes not. We must copy forms, all-purpose ideas and techniques, so why not do it more systematically?
Poem Characters Tricks
Copy a poem you like, and then play with the elements. Part of the beauty of a poem is in the arrange and the rhythm. Why not add your own words into that, to see what happens?
Here is the last part of a poem upper-class "Gratitude. " It in progress by painting a consider of the mountains,and then;
Words fail, as they should. . .
So there is nil to say
Now, if you take the common "gimmick" of the losing ground lines, you could addition all sorts of thoughts. An example:
Pain returns, as it must. . .
And to where can I turn for relief?
But to life
Shameless? No more so than the agree with time a celebrity wrote a four-line verse. New words have formed a new poem. In the environment of a longer poem, this doubling-up of form in one verse might not even be noticed.
What is imagination if you don't construct something? Use anything tricks and techniques you need to start creating poetry.
Steve Gillman has been live with poetry for thirty years. He and his wife Ana fashioned the game "Deal-A-Poem," which can be accessed for free at: http://www. dealapoem. com
Ocean Heal Me
Ocean Heal MeOcean heal my wounds Let your waves curl and foam on my body Wash away blood, heal scarsOcean renew me with your power As constantly you roll Giving concentration that's been drainedOcean keep me warm Wrap me in your brine Caress me with your tidesOcean disappear my tears As they flow in you I rinse my soulOcean let me grow in your depths Color me brilliant blue, coral, green Clear = revitalizedOcean your spray anoints me Cool and refreshed My spiritual renewalOcean be my friend Hold me flowing in your currents Ever moving, ever changingOcean, heal me.© 1983 Susan BaconSusan Bacon is a researcher, creator and teacher.
Ode, to the Mighty Midget Omac [In English and Spanish]
Part One Midget HistoryI am thirty-six inches tall, that is all-Honest to god I am My hair is green, my eyes red, and IHave a very thick neckMy eyebrows are thin, and my beardHas three hairs? And I bore abuse, when I was youngYes! It happened to be; day by day??folks laugh at me, my appearanceYou see?I make them appalled. .
Live For Today...
Isn't that what they say?But what does that mean?There's no classification that mayanswer that question..
Robert Burns Love Poem: A Red, Red Rose
Robert Burns, a poor man, an educated man, and a ladies' man, is agent of Scotland, much like whisky, haggis, bagpipes, and kilts. He lived a life shortened by stiff heart disease, 1759-1796, but his life journey by means of poverty, informal education, disappointed love, nationalism, and literary and pecuniary hit can be identified by all Scots and communal men the world over.
Key Largo - Frater Albertus
Key Largo:The fans turn idly in front of the doorThey open wide presentation mangroves galoreAn egret in the everglades stalks its preyHaltingly it walks along its wayOn a further cheerful and sunny dayA woman's floppy hat shades her beauty not so brittleThe silky scarf that holds the hat flutters just a littleShe pauses in the threshold of the doorSurveying what she's looking forShe is looking above-board at meHer beauty flaunted all to see.'Where are you from?' while noticing I had a frownOn the other couch she pleasingly sits downIn the small hotel lobby bar'A city north and very far.
Tale of the: Old Huntsman and the Blond Hare [In SPANISH and English now]
There once lived an old man and his goodwife On the edge of the thick of the woods; They lived in an old run-down shack For forty-years and some. The old man hunted for his living, And his wife sewed on her lap.
Two Poems: San Jeronimo Brook & [in English and Spanish]
Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stone Thu art a condor to the skyOf glory clandestine in thy heartSo many paths, a maze of art?In thy old, Mantaro ValleyWhere adobes, breathe and tremble Beyond your country shadowsThere lays the prettiest of brooksIs my heart, contained by its stream!My image greatly carved, rippledIn its neat shallow watersWaiting, just before you for me?As it opens up, opens up my soulMy rippled soul-searching-eyes!..
The Goat and the Rope [a Poem: in Spanish and English]
The Goat and the Ropewhere there were devils I saw none. nothing.
The Art of Being paid Poetic Critique
You can show your poem to your mom, your spouse, your co-workers, or your friends, but you might not get the responses that you can suck up into your diminutive characters fingers to use in an crack to refine your craft. What does it actually mean when a big shot who cares about you, but not for poetry says, "Wow, this is great.
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [a Poem]
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [Summer of 2005]Daybreak by Lake Superior Rising out of the woods like: A swamp mist I'm ahead of you for breakfast(at the B&B) I pace the grounds The scent of green shrubbery: Trees, flora, flowers-rain Intoxicates me- Branches like big brown arms Descend? The embankment, to the right Blue eyed, like mine-reflect From the creek beneath me (my wife says 'be careful' she went to get the camera) The greens and blues touch My face and blue jeans- Reflections mirrored like Musical notes of a symphony (I'll see them later in pictures) For now, it's daybreak In Minnesota.#813 8/26/2005Note: the author, Dennis Siluk, took his wife Rosa [me: on my birthday] to Lake Superior, this summer, and I acclaimed the leading lake in the world.
The Gaul of La Laguna de Paca
Part OneI tell you a legend of long ago Of the cadaverous city of La Laguna de Paca, (Where I had met a lasting ghost) Within this county of Huancayo--Peru; Truth lies, but only the soul knows.Part TwoSo the legend goes, of long ago: During the rising of the full moon The Mermaid of La Laguna de Paca, appears And to the close towns folks, she echoes.
Two Poems on the Traditions of Peru [in English and Spanish]
Atahualpa's Game [Peruvian]Sometimes, it's not wise To share your wisdom ---as did, Atahualpa (The Inca King) in the Game of chess; thereafter, He was condemned to death.6/6/05 #713Note: Atahualpa, was the most eminent of the Inca Kings, in the 16th century of Peru, I do relieve, and was held for money by the Spaniards.
Ceasar Vallejo: Black Roses [In English and Spanish]
Cesar Vallejo: Black RosesBow down your head ol' poet- To face God's grace ahead There are no more trenchesTo dig today? In the reforest of your head,So-: Bow down, bow down,Ol' barbaric poet! Death rides the horse ahead I hear the crackling of a whip See the demented eyes of death.He order you to his den- The devil and his wind,So-: Bow down, bow down Your blood discolored brows He will take you to the edge.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning: A Argument of How Do I Love Thee?
"How Do I Love Thee?" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning was in black and white in 1845 while she was being courted by the English poet, Robert Browning. The poem is also posh Elegy XLIII from Sonnets From the Portuguese.
AFRICA (to africans in diaspora)africa here i come, africa africa of the black soul the soul of an antediluvian cultivation the cultivation of your timid tribes.its your voice i hear africa your voice of the chatting drums your beaded drums and the royal trumpeter the metal gong of your town crieri have come to see your music dance i have heard of your classic minstrels have i not heard of your fluctuation hips! i have heard adequate and have come to watch wouldn't you dance for me africaafrica here i come africa would you not show me to your tribes the timid tribes of your sweet tongues the assorted tongues of your honest menafrica, black soul africa tell me about your gods your gods of the sky and of the nurse earth your gods of the hills and of the rivers aboundshow me to your kings africa your kings of the antique dynasty the antiquated era of rusted spear and shield africa, here i come africaHEAVENLY GUESTheavenly guest heralding thunderously in its own awake pelting on men as well, the gods gathering itself drop by drop.
Three Poems: Liberty, Death, and a Frog [with Commentary on Liberty]
Frog SummerSummer grows hot, for the New-blooded frogs; The bugs are thin, yet the Frogs stay fat, young and sassy. In these palsy times-they Only listen, as we become weak away.
Two Poems and an Breakdown ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']
Two Poems and an Breakdown ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']WitnessMy face belongs to whoever sees it Everything has a connotation but life Even the bugs strive for existence God saved man, from God Ghosts have lonely sins Her bones are stones Up and down the hill Gardens blossom Spotless skies Dramatists August I can not rest!..
Three Poems: The Monkey Man of Lima, Plus Two More
What Hides after the Minute?What hides after the minute? It seems, no one actually knows; How many times will we wakeup, To count the action gone?The rose was dead when I arrived; The sword, was rusty and dull; The dialogue box curtain was open, And there was music in the hall.Oh lovely minute, where art thou? One, is not like the other-: Whirling in an everyday orbit, As the illimitable world discovers.
Hindu Poet - Kamalakanta
Kamalakanta was born in Burdwan India in the late 18th Century. From an early age he uttered an activity in religious studies and later in life Kamalakanta acknowledged beginning into Tantric Yoga from a Tantric yogi named Kenaram Bhattacharya.
The Dead God of Copan (in English and Spanish)
English VersionAnd the Death God said: "Let it rise to its glory in the Rio Valley-for a season; then let it be gone, we shall call it Copan?"Prologue: Empires come and go, liken to cosmic events, or the storms about the world: Atlantis, Mu, Greece, Persia, Rome, the Inca Nation, and even the great Maya heroic times of Copan, in Focal America. All came and all left, one way or another; now just dust and artifacts in the spiral of time.
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