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Before and after, an exercize.

GuiltyPleasure

GuiltyPleasure

AWTSS
Joined
Jul 12, 2003
Posts
14,131
Choose one of your poems, posted or not, any length or form. The exercise is to remove and words you feel are unnecessary, then go back and remove more. Keep removing with out losing the meaning of the poem. Reduce it by a ¼, a 1/3 then ½ until you reach the essence.

Post both versions in this thread, before and after.
 
Stepy Akermańskie

Tristesse2 said:
Choose one of your poems, posted or not, any length or form. The exercise is to remove and words you feel are unnecessary, then go back and remove more. Keep removing with out losing the meaning of the poem. Reduce it by a ¼, a 1/3 then ½ until you reach the essence.

Post both versions in this thread, before and after.
Click to expand...
Just recently, I've written a 7-line poem (2+2+2+1 = 7 short lines) which is a variation of the beautiful and most classical Polish 13-syllables/line sonnet by Adam Mickiewicz.

Adam Mickiewicz's sonnet (Stepy Akermańskie) has

(4+4+3+3) x 13 = 182​

syllables. My variation has 38 syllables. In this sense I got just a shade over 1/5. Needless to say, I have preserved the whole artistic value, it just feels lighter.
 
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Tristesse2 said:
Choose one of your poems, posted or not, any length or form. The exercise is to remove and words you feel are unnecessary, then go back and remove more. Keep removing with out losing the meaning of the poem. Reduce it by a ¼, a 1/3 then ½ until you reach the essence.

Post both versions in this thread, before and after.
Click to expand...
Some poets write two versions of their own poem. Such multiple versions appear published in Włodzimierz Szymanowski's collection of poetry. I followed his example and a number of times published two versions of a poem on Internet, on Literotica too.
 
I'm in, but I have to go find an old poem.

tods, we all take this shit personally. :D
 
format

Angeline said:
He doesn't mean anything you said. I think he meant that we all tease each other about overwriting. He can sure speak for himself, but that's how I read it. :)
Click to expand...
There was not much to tease about. And I had no idea whom t28 addressed. I just had no idea (about anything)--period :)

*****

When I posted my mini-sonnet on poewiki.org, which was a variation of a classical sonnet, I also suggested a new kind of poems:

derivated mini-sonnets​

Simply a mini-sonnet is a 7-line poem, where the split into stanzas are 2+2+2+1,
and such that every line has 1 to 7 syllables (in English you should easily get away with max 6 syllables). Now, the derived mini-sonnet is a mini-sonnet tightly related to a classical (or known) sonnet.

Actually, you could write yourself a regular sonnet and a mini-sonnet about the same time, and make sure that they more or less represent the same poem (a poem meant in an abstract sense, without words).

Is anybody game for mini-sonnets derived from the whole collection of Shakspeare's sonnets? :)
 
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oops

Angeline said:
I'm in, but I have to go find an old poem.

tods, we all take this shit personally. :D
Click to expand...

Senna Jawa said:
** ?? **
Click to expand...

Sorry Senna I meant the thread, I tend to waffle a whole lot of crap in anything I write so it was meant in good humour as opposed to a response to your comment, which is an interesting perspective to write two versions of the same poem, one I think Angeline, or Butters has mentioned in my thread "an open invite to tear a poem to pieces"

lol Angeline, maybe instead of joking about it I should participate, which I shall :)
sorry for de-railing the thread a little Tristess, I will behave from now on


*Margaret Tobin*

They bring them in
special, damaged goods
viewed from behind inch thick
sheets of bullet proof glass
help is what they're here for,
I question how much help
is actually had, imprisoned
shackled to beds, drugged, drooling
while friend's, lover's and children's
tears pool on pale cheeks

a lady looked on at me,
asked if I were her son,
voice quivering slight octave quaver
why are you people torturing me
wails of despair, more tears, matted hair,
drug glazed stare,
her abject terror infectious
shaking my head no words for
this dishevelled mess of humanity

wails evolve into screeches,
I want out,
I want OUT,
I WANT OUT
alarms blare,
monotone computer voice radios,
Code black room 2,
Code black room 2,
4 people descend on this wreck of a creature
she spits and claws,

pin her to the glass so they can pull
down her pants, jab her with
liquid sleep, 5 seconds she
slides down smearing,
reduced to a window licker,

2 hours later windows are cleaned,
polished of her unclean taint
ready for another of life's
crazies
ready for us to peer through
the looking glass and pity


*Margaret Tobin*

damaged goods
viewed from behind
bullet proof glass
shackled to beds, drugged,
while friend's, lover's and children's
tears pool on pale cheeks

a lady
asked if I were her son,
voice a quiver
why are you people torturing me
wails of despair, infectious terror

screeches,
I WANT OUT
alarms blare,

Code black room 2,
Code black room 2,
4 people descend
she spits and claws,

pin her to the glass,
jab her with
liquid sleep, she
slides down,
reduced to a window licker,


windows are cleaned,
polished of taint
ready for us to peer through
the looking glass and pity
 
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if i ever find the time, i'll do this - so many pieces of mine could use this treatment :rolleyes:
 
I've never had such a big one
I'm surprised it even went in,
For a moment it stuck in the entrance
But with greasing we managed to win.
With eyes open with anticipation
I gathered myself for the charge,
For I've never seen anything like it
And taken nothing so large!
You were determined to get it in there
Of that I had no doubt,
But as fast as you pushed it forward
My muscles were pushing it out.
To late I saw my mistake here
For now it's become quite small
And although you get it in now,
It's no fucking use at all!

..............................................

Such a big one
I'm surprised!!
It stuck but with
greasing we won,
now with eyes open
I gathered myself
for anything and
you were determined
no doubt, but too late
my mistake! It's come
and no use at all :(
 
Stuff

I did that bit so many times, Man,
Vegas, Frisco, and the Jewish Alps.
Christ, it could have been Timbuktu,
Jersey, or Idaho for all I knew
I couldn't give a rat's ass about
as long as they knew it was someone else
when I played to the back of the room
and alchemized puissance into pissants.

I'd do something blue when I was dying
even with blue haired church ladies present
so everyone knew there wasn't a God
until I brought the house down again,
but all that remains is improv now
for a no name nurse on the graveyard shift
and dude in the next bed biding his time
with another big hand for George Carlin. (154 feet)

d. June 22, 2008

Stuff

Did that bit so many times.
Man, it could have been Timbuktu,
but I always played the back of the room
where all my improv buddies were.

Ain't nothing but blue haired ladies now
visiting Norman or Fred,

doctors too young to recall
Hippy Dippy Weatherman,

and last but not least, ladies and gents,
a brick shithouse nurse on the graveyard shift
who gives a big hand for George Carlin. (90 feet)

d. June 22, 2008
 
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greenmountaineer said:
Stuff

[...]
(154 feet)​

d. June 22, 2008

Stuff

[...]
doctors too young to recall
the Hippy Dippy Weatherman,

(101 feet)​

d. June 22, 2008​
Click to expand...

Very nice! And interesting. Two true variations, not just an abbreviated version.

I see the same date. Correct? (Perhaps so). BTW, you could differentiate between your versions in the title, something like:

Stuff (L)​

[...]​

and

Stuff (S)​

[...]​

Regards,
 
ten torchers

Tristesse2 said:
Post both versions in this thread, before and after.
Click to expand...
Hey, Trist, if you feel like this then treat us to your two variations.

Here let me post an example from ten torches (2 versions). I'll actually post the copies below because a time ago Literotica took liberties with the format of my entry.



ten torches


your silence speaks volumes
i feel their pulse & texture
i hallucinate fire
and don't know whether or not
my fingers have turned into icicles​




10 torches


i feel the texture
of silence
and my fingers
turned into icicles​





wh,
1993/06/23
1996-2002


In terms of syllables it is 6+7+7+7+9 = 36 versus 5+3+4+5 = 17, so that the shorter version is less than 1/2 of the longer one (titles don't count).
 
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Senna Jawa said:
Hey, Trist, if you feel like this then treat us to your two variations.

Here let me post an example from ten torches (2 versions). I'll actually post the copies below because a time ago Literotica took liberties with the format of my entry.



ten torches


your silence speaks volumes
i feel their pulse & texture
i hallucinate fire
and don't know whether or not
my fingers have turned into icicles​




10 torches


i feel the texture
of silence
and my fingers
turned into icicles​





wh,
1993/06/23
1996-2002


In terms of syllables it is 6+7+7+7+9 = 36 versus 5+3+4+5 = 17, so that the shorter version is less than 1/2 of the longer one (titles don't count).
Click to expand...
i feel the pulse
of silence
as my fingers
turn to ice

Clearly you realize, you have two different poems, one is a reaction to a defined other (your), the second is not and tends to the vague. My shorter version would yield a third completely different reading, no?
 
ok, i'm having a ridiculously hard time picking one to chop up. seems i like most of them as they stand or close enough. someone give me the push and choose one for me to have a go at decluttering?
 
[Le sigh..... ] :confused:

Ice Storm

Before

This gentle innocuous rain,
not stinging cold on skin
but encasing all in ice.

Air
rattles through trees, jangling
aching boughs with brittle pain
and raining branches down like
fallen birds.

Some trees, burdened
beyond endurance, crack and split,
there'll be no spring for them.
Familiar objects made strange
by this chilly mantle.

An alien world of beauty and
anguish, danger and amazement,
will only last as long as a dream.

After

Gentle innocuous rain,
not stinging cold on skin,
encasing all in ice.

Air rattles through trees,
Jangling aching boughs in brittle pain,
raining branches like
fallen birds.

Trees, burdened beyond endurance,
crack and split,
there'll be no Spring.
Familiar objects estranged
in chilly mantle.

Alien world of beauty,
anguish, and amazement,
lasting as long as a dream.
 
twelveoone said:
i feel the pulse
of silence
as my fingers
turn to ice

Clearly you realize, you have two different poems, one is a reaction to a defined other (your), the second is not and tends to the vague. My shorter version would yield a third completely different reading, no?
Click to expand...

butters said:
this
is where my head wanted to take that piece of senna's
Click to expand...

I agree if the sole purpose is to reduce the words. But I don't think other poetic devices should be thrown out the window. There's a hypnotic effect in the sound of the poem for me in Senna's version with the feminine endings, inclusive of the title, and then the variation at the end. I'm not a big fan of short poems (I think basically because I'm a story teller at heart), but I enjoyed the craft I saw in both versions.
 
Tristesse2 said:
Not meaning to answer for SJ but shouldn't poetry - or a poem - be the essence of what the poet wants to convey?
Click to expand...

I thought the point of the exercise is to learn to be more precise in the words we choose. For most of us that means taking words away, hence the exercise. And whether or not someone who chooses to participate "needs" to do it or not just seems irrelevant to me. People try it if they want to try it. :cool:

I am having the same problem as butters, choosing a poem, but I hope it'll get easier once I finish that 30/30 today!
 
Angeline said:
I thought the point of the exercise is to learn to be more precise in the words we choose. For most of us that means taking words away, hence the exercise. And whether or not someone who chooses to participate "needs" to do it or not just seems irrelevant to me. People try it if they want to try it. :cool:

I am having the same problem as butters, choosing a poem, but I hope it'll get easier once I finish that 30/30 today!
Click to expand...

I wasn't expecting anyone to feel obliged to try this. I simply thought it was an interesting challenge.

I just stuck a proverbial pin in my collection because choosing is so difficult. I'll try another random pick.
 
Tristesse2 said:
I wasn't expecting anyone to feel obliged to try this. I simply thought it was an interesting challenge.

I just stuck a proverbial pin in my collection because choosing is so difficult. I'll try another random pick.
Click to expand...

That may be the best method. :D
 
Tristesse2 said:
Not meaning to answer for SJ but shouldn't poetry - or a poem - be the essence of what the poet wants to convey?
Click to expand...

Thank you for your answer, Tristesse, but I'll wait for Senna's answer, since I'm curious to hear what he hoped to achieve.
 
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