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Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’

Pine Pollen

In the cold air of evening
Wrens forage on a red-barked tree
Cry here here here

Robins flee from my footstep
Eye me from amid apple blossoms
Coughing rum-rum-rum like old cars in the morning

Juncos steal past below me
Seeking midges mid-air
They leap silently through the gloaming

Sunset breaks the lidded sky
Limns the buds of maples
In the cold air of evening

 

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Exit 175

Gossamer Wheel

Exit 175

water bubbles up
through concrete and macadam
past stone and brickwork
a quiet spring

a seeping thread of clear water
it cleanses my singing tires
rises in hissing mist
makes rainbows in the rising sun

the natural world lives on
despite manmade bonds
lies quietly beneath my feet
like grass in cracked pavement

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Kurt R.A. GiambastianiOver the weekend, I experimented with the “clustering” technique, with mixed success.

It is a great idea generation tool, and similar to Ray Bradbury’s morning word association ritual, can seemingly bring something out of nothing. It needs a seed, a kernel from which to grow, so it’s not literally “from nothing,” but that kernel can just be the first word that pops into your head. I’ve had success before, born of this sort of free-wheeling (my Ploughman Chronicles started from just such a random idea generation technique), but what clustering provides is a definite method.

Another way I found it of use is in focusing and honing an idea I already had. I used it when I created “25 Hz,” posted yesterday. I already had the idea, born of a crappy mood and a little cat therapy, but didn’t know exactly what I wanted to say. Clustering around the word “purr” gave me a page of word associations and–to my surprise–almost all of them appeared in the short poem.

However, there was one area in which I found clustering to be of no use whatsoever: Rhyming.

Yesterday, I got the bit of doggerel stuck in my head. I knew the start. I knew the finish. I just needed help with the in-between bits, all of which needed to fit in with a strict meter and rhyming scheme. Here, clustering failed me, utterly. To finish, I had to resort to an old school method; I slept on it.

(more…)

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25 Hz

the number on her breath—
inward, louder
outward, gentler
my scent pulled in
peace exhaled
jewel eyes half-lidded
surrounded by safety
in this moment
my hand along her fur
—is a purr of love at 25 Hz

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01Jan13

Your voice is dim

Your words break up

As if your call

Is from years past

And not across

Mere miles

k

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Kurt R.A. GiambastianiI am not a poet. Well, no more than the next person, I’d say. But as a writer, I think poetry is a useful tool. I learn from writing poetry, whether it’s free verse or a more formal structure. Like etudes to the pianist, I learn technique through poetry. I learn how to be spare.

I put some of my poetry online here, today, a new annex off the Writing page. Some of them still make me smile. Many are bittersweet, as that’s the mood that most resonates with my Inner Poet. Rueful, I guess.

In my opinion, poetry should not read like prose, as so often happens these days. Like a lot of modern art, I think a lot of modern poetry is a sham. But I’m an old, crusty curmudgeon, so what do I know, eh?

k

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I came across this yesterday. The work of a master.

This is Just to Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

William Carlos Williams

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