Tag Archives: poetry about poetry

#270: A Poem Spoken in the Dark

I’m not proud of it, but yeah, I made it up on the spot in this video and then transcribed it. That’s why I’m speaking so slowly. I’m not drunk. I’m just trying to choose words:

The reason
my last two poems have been prose poems
is because I have been composing them
using
the voice-to-type feature
on my stupid smart phone.
No pen, or pencil lead, or
ffffinger dexterity
was used
to compose
those two poems.
So today,
I am videotaping myself
talking the poem.
In that way, this poem
about writing poems
(which a friend of mine says is not a thing)
is a video poem,
a spoken word poem,
improvised on the spot,
for your reading, viewing, listening pleasure,
right now, in this moment, in my office,
in the dark.

 

 

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#130: Farewell, For Now

TLTNPM

I asked my students what I should write my last poem of the month about and one kid suggested I go all meta.  Write a poem about writing a poem about writing poems, he said.  It was a pretty good idea.  But instead, I took the prompt from the last prompt of the month from the NaPoWriMo website, not quite so meta: a farewell poem.

Farewell, For Now

I wrote 30 poems,
one for every day of the
cruelest month, as part of
a national celebration
of Poetry. So,
what now?

A farewell, I guess,
to a poem every day,
to poetry, generally
speaking, but perhaps,
not for long, because,
while it’s easy to
give up on a poem a day,
to give up on discipline
and structure and intention,
it’s hard for me
to imagine a month
without any poetry
at all. What kind of
month would that be?
Cruel, indeed.
So farewell, for now,
to poetry every day.
We’ll take wagers,
you and I,
see how long I can stay away.

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#100: Serious About Poetry

I have just now reached my personal goal of writing 100 poems in a year!  I know poets who have written a poem every day for a year, so this may not be the most amaze-balls news of the world, but it’s amazing for me.  I think it’s a personal best, a personal record.  I’ve had times in my life when poetry sprouted forth in spontaneous and voluminous spurts, but never sustained over such a long period, never 100 in a year.  So, I’m pleased with myself despite misgivings I have about the quality of my verse, which, I’m pretty open about, and which, often, has become the subject matter for poetry, and which, is pretty much the subject matter for my one hundredth poem.  I’d like to thank the academy, my readers, all my lovely and brave followers, and in particular, National Poetry Writing Month–which got the whole ball rolling for me in the first place one year ago April 1st.     

 

Serious About Poetry

What would happen
if I became serious about poetry?
For one, I might stop
simply breaking my tiny
essays into lines and
calling them poems.
For another, I might do
things like this:

Rain comes down in torrents,
beats like mad against the windows,
and I shout over the top of it to be heard:
what’s for dinner, darling?

Something like that would be
good for a poem.
It seems to have all the requisite
poetry things: rain for example,
and an unexpected turn at the end,
the pairing of the mundane
with a totally different kind of mundane.

On second thought,
I think I’ll keep writing tiny essays
and breaking them into lines.
I’m calling that poetry, for now.

 

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