Learning about Poetry (part 11): distant Conceptional to more touchable, Tangible

©2020 by Ken Wickham

All rights reserved.

Based on the prior day\s poetic lines, in this exercise, I’ll try to fish out a few more abstract—but seemingly important—and add on or replace the words with more tangible groups of words.

To make things more brief, let's just focus on three sentences.

1. Sanctuary.

There outside my sanctuary, covered by showering-mist rainy, wet dusk.

secured sanctuary, my house,

There outside my secured sanctuary, my house, covered by showering-mist rainy, wet dusk.

2. Hurt

Hurt and lusk,

unmoving, sunken deep,

almost under, on a reclining sofa.

Wound bleeding-broken bone-hurt

Wound bleeding, broken bone—hurt and lusk,

unmoving, sunken deep

almost under, on a reclining sofa.

Don’t touch.

3. Far

Gone far from my familiarity,

away from my home by final, unstoppable dusk.

eight hundred miles

Gone eight hundred miles from my familiarity,

away from my home,

divided by final, unstoppable dusk.

That was fun. In the next poetry post, I think I might want to focus on figurative language.

Learning about Poetry (part 10): Vague to Detail

©2020 by Ken Wickham

All rights reserved.

In the last poetry post, sensory words and images were added to the researched set of rhymes in order to make the sentences more visceral. Here is the result so far.

I heard the bombastic busk,

blasting echoes in the city dusk.
"Don't be brusque!" I said to the one most abrupt.

A heavy scent of lingering fresh musk.

Beads of sweat on skin forming an aromatic musk.

Eating fishy cusk and crunchy rusk.

There by rainy, wet dusk.

The slippery sliding and gliding slimy mollusk.

Protruding sharp and long, like fangs

impaled deep and deadly the tusk.

I'm just an empty dried husk,

of my ancient former self.

Hurt and lusk, unmoving, sunken in a sofa.

From bright noon to darkening dusk.

A single undulating foot of a dark shelled mollusk.

Gone far by final dusk.

This exercise, I'll focus on making a few of the descriptions more specific.

I heard pounding in my eardrum the increasingly bombastic busk,

blasting echoes in the shadowy towers of the unfamiliar city dusk.

"Don't be brusque!"
I said to the one,
my foe,
whom I despise most abrupt.

A heavy scent drifted to my nostrils of wanted lingering fresh musk.

Beads of dripping sweat on skin forming an aromatic musk.

Eating healthy fishy cusk and satisfying crunchy rusk.

There outside my sanctuary, covered by showering-mist rainy, wet dusk.

The slippery sliding and gliding slimy mollusk,
oozed seeking paths, to my eyes, of glistening wonder.

Protruding sharp, menacing, and long, like fangs

impaled deep and deadly the tusk.

I'm just an empty, drained of all soul, a dried shriveled husk,

of a long past shell of my ancient former self.

Hurt and lusk,
unmoving, sunken deep,
almost under, in a reclining sofa.

From blinding light of midday noon to darkening mist of shadowed dusk.

A single solitary undulating foot, I beheld, of a dark shelled mollusk.

Gone far from my familiarity,
away from my home by final, unstoppable dusk.

Alright, I tried my best to expand and make it more detailed and a little less vague by making a few adjectives more specific. I also added some more action, commentary, and images. In the next poetry post, I'll try to check abstract vs concrete words.

Learning about Poetry (part 9): Words for the senses

The original content and poetry research on this page is by Ken Wickham.

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©2020 by Ken Wickham

All rights reserved.

Here is where my prior research left off, with a clean slate of rhymes for the next exercises or more.

I heard the busk,

echo the city dusk.

I'm just a husk,

of my former self.

Protruding sharp and long, 

impaled the tusk.

From noon to dusk.

A heavy scent of musk.

Don't be brusque!

Hurt and lusk.

Eating cusk and rusk.

The sliding and gliding mollusk.

A single foot of a mollusk.

Aromatic musk.

There by dusk.

Gone by dusk.

First, I will pass through and pull out verses that deal with sound, tastes, scents, touch, and sight—very similar to my Fact Generator.

Sound

I heard the bombastic busk,

blasting echoes in the city dusk.
"Don't be brusque!" I said to the one most abrupt.

Scent

A heavy scent of lingering fresh musk.

Beads of sweat on skin forming an aromatic musk.

Scent and Touch

Eating fishy cusk and crunchy rusk.

There by rainy, wet dusk.

Touch and sight

The slippery sliding and gliding slimy mollusk.

Protruding sharp and long, like fangs

impaled deep and deadly the tusk.

Sight

I'm just an empty dried husk,

of my ancient former self.

Hurt and lusk, unmoving, sunken in a sofa.

From bright noon to darkening dusk.

A single undulating foot of a dark shelled mollusk.

Gone far by final dusk.

Although not as brief, the verses seem to have a little more weight and detail. Next post I'll take a look at how many adverbs and adjectives I can reduce vague description and make more detailed and exact.

Learning about Poetry (part 7): "Dream Flows" poem and comparison of Poetry to Myths or Fables

While the urge to do something with "go" rhyming words, I want to take several of my freewriting sentence words and create something simple by altering it. I also want to do something by making some phrases little more descriptive.

This will be my first entirely original rhyming poem.

Dream Flows

©2020 by Ken Wickham

All rights reserved.

This urgent hope could go. 

Where do peaceful dreams flow. 

You're not my mortal foe. 

In the moment will never know. 

So, I add this new simple 4 line rhyming poem to that one that I created through imitation several posts ago. Here is that first imitation poem for comparison.

Plague Across the Land

©2020 by Ken Wickham based on Emily Dickenson's "Hope is a thing with feathers"

All rights reserved.

I've seen across the entire land,

All victims of the plague,

In a world looking strange and vague,

No, I don't want to beg.

I now have 2 poems written: "Dream Flows" and "Plague Across the Land".

Poetry writing it is fairly strange and unfamiliar. In 2nd grade, I remember doing a few poems for classroom activity, but those are now long forgotten to time.

Writing these poems are as unfamiliar to me as creating those 2 myths and 1 fable back in 2017 in the mythology series. It does give me a greater sense of breadth with writing styles although my skill level with poetry is only beginning.

Poetry is the art of sharing experience. In these two brief and little poems, it does feel like "Dream Flows" and "Plague Across the Land" do share some sort of experience. The mythology was more of a fictional creating experience than when I created "Blood and Water - Begin", "From them all become", and "Bird takes Snake to the Moons". Very little of me are included in those myths and fable. Instead of including any emotion or evaluations, my myths were more logically constructed.

Learning about Poetry (part 6): Muse #4 Freewriting (Random Prompt)

The main tool for this exercise is freewriting. In exercise #1 we did some freewriting based on a random rhyming word set.

This exercise will differ in that first, instead of rolling for a rhyming set, I'll roll for one random result for each part of speech. I will then try to freewrite whatever comes to mind for 10 minutes, jumping from word to word or back depending on spontaneous thoughts.

Noun 1162 = compromise
Adjective 1785 = shopping
Verb 646 = prevent
Adverb 988 = yearningly
Interjection 499 = just kill me
Preposition 760 = prior to
Pronoun 77 = this
Conjunction 80 = supposing
Determiner 2 = the [singular]

Freewriting for 10 minutes exercise focusing on the above random words

There is no compromise. I must prevent laziness. Yearningly, I study poetry in hopes of figuring out the basics. If everything progresses enough, then poetry will be another form of artistic expression; supposing, that enough of the basics are adequate. THIS is the answer that has slipped through the grasp of scholars and politicians. THE end. Prior to writing this post, I was creating the next names book. Shopping exhausts me. But it does not prevent spontaneity. "Just kill me!" she said in a mocking manner. Yearningly, I typed each word wondering what would emerge. Prior to compromising during the deal, I shopped. Freewriting is a form of writing; supposing, that something inspirational emerges from all of the typing. But it should not prevent creativity. The fact of the matter is that I must type until the full 10 minutes is reached. this thought can go. I type and type until I know. Where does it go. How knows. Ouch my toe. I blow and row until tomorrow. You're not my foe. It will expose. 

Ok. I typed up some spontaneous stuff.

The orange highlights were attempts to mix the preposition with two words based on two other parts of speech.

When I reached the yellow highlighted section, I just suddenly felt like rhyming with go for some reason. I don't know why. It might mean something. Or it might mean nothing.

This is freewriting. There might be something here, especially with the rhyming "go" words.

In the another exercise, I might explore those rhyming words.

Quick edit on the yellow highlighted rhyming words

Next, I will look at, edit, and change the yellow words a bit

This thought can go. 

I type and type until I know. 

Where does it go. 

Who will know. 

Ouch my toe. 

I blow and row until tomorrow. 

You're not my foe. 

At the expo. 

That is enough freewriting for today.

Learning about Poetry (part 5): Muse #3 Reading (Metaphor & Simile)

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

By Emily Dickenson compiled around 1861.

The poetry lines and content below is created by Ken Wickham, based on the poem above.

©2020 by Ken Wickham based on Emily Dickenson's "Hope is a thing with feathers"

All rights reserved.

Metaphors and similes compare one thing to another.

A simple exercise, I'll practice using the Emily Dickenson poem again, except the first line which does not rhyme.

A metaphor is something that refers to one thing by writing or saying another thing figuratively rather than literally.

Hope is soaring flight.

A simile is something that compares to something else using the words like or as.

Hope is like rolling dice.
Hope is as flying birds.

Now, to try fitting the sentence with a different topic. I like the first simile line better than the 2nd. Let me see what other word besides hope that I can use. Maybe change.

Change is like rolling dice.

Learning about Poetry (part 4): Muse #3 Reading (Imitating)

In the last post, I researched different poems that contained words from my random rhyme set. In this post I will try to mimic a portion of a famous American poem by Emily Dickenson.

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

By Emily Dickenson compiled around 1861.

To me, it looks like the rhyme scheme is the following for the entire poem.
Each letter represents a possible rhyme ending. I've highlighted in different colors the pairs that I think might rhyme.

A, B, C, B
D, E, D, E
F, G, G, G

So, taking some of the 9 words and focusing on only one portion of the ED poem, I'll try write something similar—yet different.

#264 egg, leg, beg, peg, vague, plague, keg, bootleg, nutmeg

I've heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

Plague Across the Land

©2020 by Ken Wickham based on Emily Dickenson's "Hope is a thing with feathers"
All rights reserved.

I've seen across the entire land,

All victims of the plague,

In a world looking strange and vague,

No, I don't want to beg.