Confused About Poetry

[AsylumSeeker]

I'm confident in my ability to write, and I was toying with the idea of trying to write a poem. In my mind, a poem tells a story just like a story does, but the words (stanzas?) rhyme, and when you read it there's a certain "pacing" to the lines.

But when I checked out some of the poems I was confused. Obviously I'm very immature (ignorant) about poetry, because it made no sense to me and I derived no sense of shared ideas with the authors. In my mind, the poetry I like is the childishly simplistic A-B, A-B, A-B ad nauseum.

So, I will share with you here a poem I started. If it completely sucks and will garner no interest, please let me know so I know this style of writing is a waste of my time and talent and I can return to the writing style I know best. But, if it has some redeeming value, please let me know that too.

Thanks in advance for your time and experience.

* * * * * * * * *

THE BOOK OF THE MATRON’S PATRONS
CH. 01: THE MAN THAT WOULD NOT RHYME

We’d excitedly gather at the feet of our strict but loving matron,
for another exciting chapter about an unsuspecting patron.

Our kinfolk told a fable about a man that would not rhyme.
For us it was nothing but a myth, a tale from another time.

It all started in a wood front store where goods were sold and traded.
Old west pictures adorned the walls but were old and faded.

The old wood floor was dirty; mud clung to the narrow splinters.
It was a reluctant reminder of the cold and long harsh winters.

But the snow was long gone, and the summer sun shone high
when this particular story started in a distant cabin with a forlorn sigh.

“Mother, I love you with all my heart,” a young man’s distressed voice cried.
He dropped fresh earth upon her grave with newfound family pride.

The cabin was devoid of food, and the garden had since dried up.
The fields rotted in the hot sun, and the last water barely filled a cup.

His mother’s words haunted him like some unearthly ghost,
“If you venture into town you’ll end up tied to a big wood post.

“Others, they don’t understand a voice that does not rhyme.
Rhyming is all they ever do; they do it all the time.”

But Edward was a trusting lass, her warnings went unheeded.
The hunger pangs grew stronger, and food was desperately needed.

He bundled up possessions that might prove to have some worth.
When it was tied around his waist, it doubled his natural girth.

He left behind the only home that he had ever known,
and the sun-dried field, that might never again be sown.

His simple mind could not fathom that his journey was fraught with danger.
His heart was as pure and spotless as a baby in a manger.

And so he trekked a lonely path to the town that unknowingly waited
for his unanticipated arrival in a festering community that only hated.

 

[My Erotic Trail]

I'm confident in my ability to write, and I was toying with the idea of trying to write a poem. In my mind, a poem tells a story just like a story does, but the words (stanzas?) rhyme, and when you read it there's a certain "pacing" to the lines.

But when I checked out some of the poems I was confused. Obviously I'm very immature (ignorant) about poetry, because it made no sense to me and I derived no sense of shared ideas with the authors. In my mind, the poetry I like is the childishly simplistic A-B, A-B, A-B ad nauseum.

So, I will share with you here a poem I started. If it completely sucks and will garner no interest, please let me know so I know this style of writing is a waste of my time and talent and I can return to the writing style I know best. But, if it has some redeeming value, please let me know that too.

Thanks in advance for your time and experience.

* * * * * * * * *

THE BOOK OF THE MATRON’S PATRONS
CH. 01: THE MAN THAT WOULD NOT RHYME

We’d excitedly gather at the feet of our strict but loving matron,
for another exciting chapter about an unsuspecting patron.

Our kinfolk told a fable about a man that would not rhyme.
For us it was nothing but a myth, a tale from another time.

It all started in a wood front store where goods were sold and traded.
Old west pictures adorned the walls but were old and faded.

The old wood floor was dirty; mud clung to the narrow splinters.
It was a reluctant reminder of the cold and long harsh winters.

But the snow was long gone, and the summer sun shone high
when this particular story started in a distant cabin with a forlorn sigh.

“Mother, I love you with all my heart,” a young man’s distressed voice cried.
He dropped fresh earth upon her grave with newfound family pride.

The cabin was devoid of food, and the garden had since dried up.
The fields rotted in the hot sun, and the last water barely filled a cup.

His mother’s words haunted him like some unearthly ghost,
“If you venture into town you’ll end up tied to a big wood post.

“Others, they don’t understand a voice that does not rhyme.
Rhyming is all they ever do; they do it all the time.”

But Edward was a trusting lass, her warnings went unheeded.
The hunger pangs grew stronger, and food was desperately needed.

He bundled up possessions that might prove to have some worth.
When it was tied around his waist, it doubled his natural girth.

He left behind the only home that he had ever known,
and the sun-dried field, that might never again be sown.

His simple mind could not fathom that his journey was fraught with danger.
His heart was as pure and spotless as a baby in a manger.

And so he trekked a lonely path to the town that unknowingly waited
for his unanticipated arrival in a festering community that only hated.

reflecting on the first part of this statement, there are a few here that write free style poetry that is hard to understand, I call it guess what I am saying poetry, you go to alot of sites and you find that each either likes ryhme or not or a mix of both, some simple and some complicated. Here they enjoy complicated, I say that meaning the elders of lit poetry <grin, there are a lot of poets here that write simple/rhyme poetry so keep looking for they are here as well, I think lit has a mix of great writers,

as for your poem, I am sure many will come that love to disect poetry and list what they would suggest to help your poem. Some are very friendly and some are rough as sandpaper but in the whole, most every one here simply likes, poetry, welcome!

 

[Liar]

I'm confident in my ability to write, and I was toying with the idea of trying to write a poem. In my mind, a poem tells a story just like a story does, but the words (stanzas?) rhyme, and when you read it there's a certain "pacing" to the lines.

But when I checked out some of the poems I was confused. Obviously I'm very immature (ignorant) about poetry, because it made no sense to me and I derived no sense of shared ideas with the authors. In my mind, the poetry I like is the childishly simplistic A-B, A-B, A-B ad nauseum.

if that's the poetry you like, then by all means write it.

Rhyming verse is a common way of writing poetry, and I don't think that you'll find any (or at least not many) who would not consider that poetry. But... you will also find that we see that as one of many different types of poems.

But they all have one thing in common: They try to say something (could be like yours, telling a story, or it could be expessing a feeling, telling a joke, anything really) in a way that the shape and style of the poem helps the reader remember and react to it. In your case, that is done by rhyming couplets (AB AB AB AB...) which gives the tale a classic fairytale feeling that it maybe wouldn't have if it was told as a regular story. Other types of poetry does this in different ways. And no, not all understands or enjoys all kinds.

Find what works for you, and have a good time.

 

[Wandadollgirl]

If you are sincerely interested in writing poetry, then you must study how to do it. You wouldn't try to make a kitchen cabinet without learning something about woodworking, and certainly wouldn't rely on what you assumed was what carpentry was. Writing is a highly skilled art. Poetry is the most skill-intensive form of writing. Yet you propose to jump right in because you are "confident."
In other words, what you are saying is "there is nothing to it; what I know about it, which is essentially nothing, is all that there is to it." You are wrong, my friend. If you disagree, quick, tell me the difference between free verse and blank verse. Can't can you? Okay, define blank verse for me. Define free verse. Can't do that either? Didn't think so.
Now I am not writing this to put you down. Not at all. I am myself a totally inept wannabe poet, who struggles mightily to produce small piles of rubbish. I am writing to say, if you really want to write poetry, you must study, learn. First step: read poetry. How many poems can you recite by heart? Hmm. How many books of poetry have you read? Uh huh. Okay, how many poems have you read? Oh, dear.
Well, the best time to start is now. Good luck to you.

 

[only_more_so]

I'm confident in my ability to write, and I was toying with the idea of trying to write a poem. In my mind, a poem tells a story just like a story does, but the words (stanzas?) rhyme, and when you read it there's a certain "pacing" to the lines.

But when I checked out some of the poems I was confused. Obviously I'm very immature (ignorant) about poetry, because it made no sense to me and I derived no sense of shared ideas with the authors. In my mind, the poetry I like is the childishly simplistic A-B, A-B, A-B ad nauseum.

So, I will share with you here a poem I started. If it completely sucks and will garner no interest, please let me know so I know this style of writing is a waste of my time and talent and I can return to the writing style I know best. But, if it has some redeeming value, please let me know that too.

Thanks in advance for your time and experience.

I have taken a few classes in poetry and I have learned there is more to good poetry than just rhyme and meter. Actually in AP english we were told to analyze "Trees" by James Joyce. Most of the class liked the poem, but even those who most liked it said there was nothing to it. There was no story between the words.

Anyway, a good poem, at least to me, is very dense in meaning. The choice of words becomes more critical than in prose. My favorite example is try substituting the word scarlet for crimson (they have the same meter, and both mean red but there is a world of difference in connotations). Or in the context of poems here, imagine the difference if the writer said "Her gaze was azure and determined" vs. "Her gaze was sapphire and determined". They are both light blue and evoke images of a clear skye, but sapphire indicates a sense of hardness, whereas azure is more dreamy and gentle.

As for rhyming poetry vs. free verse or open poetry, I have always liked the former. Maybe it is because I am a traditionalist at heart, but I like to think it is just a better form. It is easy to be vague and profound when you don't have to make sense. It is much harder when you are strictly limited by rhyme and meter. Of course, it is also easier to disguise fluff when you are using rhyming couplets, i.e. not everything that rhymes in coupled verse is a poem.

But really, poetry is whatever people make of it. If something moves you, then do it.

 

[AsylumSeeker]

Giving Credit Where Credit Is Due

To quote myself (I don't know how to do that quote box, although I have posted a How To thread so I can learn how to), I admitted I am poetically immature. I do know there are things like Haiku (I cannot tell you what it involves) and there are other forms. Poetry is involved and complex, and the fact that I know A-B, A-B is a leftover fragment from grade school. As for reading poems, I have read some in high school, such as the Charge of the Light Brigade and some Emily Dickinson and Ralph Waldo Emerson, but I can't recall much of it. Except a stanza I memorized as part of a school play (That I always loved I bring you proof, that until I loved I did not love enough)

All I know is that I enjoy the rhythm of it. I don't read and reread my stories, except I'll go over a submission a couple times to make corrections before posting. But when I write a poem in my simplistic form it gives me a sense of joy to read it.

I have nothing but respect for anyone that hangs it all out there and share their hearts and thoughts with others. And I understand that I do need to become more familiar with the style and mechanics of it.

But in the meantime, I was wondering if the style I used is acceptable, or is it so childish that nobody would be interested in reading the story behind it?

 

[My Erotic Trail]

* * * * * * * * *

THE BOOK OF THE MATRON’S PATRONS
CH. 01: THE MAN THAT WOULD NOT RHYME

We’d excitedly gather at the feet of our strict but loving matron,
for another exciting chapter about an unsuspecting patron.

Our kinfolk told a fable about a man that would not rhyme.
For us it was nothing but a myth, a tale from another time.

It all started in a wood front store where goods were sold and traded.
Old west pictures adorned the walls but were old and faded.

The old wood floor was dirty; mud clung to the narrow splinters.
It was a reluctant reminder of the cold and long harsh winters.

But the snow was long gone, and the summer sun shone high
when this particular story started in a distant cabin with a forlorn sigh.

“Mother, I love you with all my heart,” a young man’s distressed voice cried.
He dropped fresh earth upon her grave with newfound family pride.

The cabin was devoid of food, and the garden had since dried up.
The fields rotted in the hot sun, and the last water barely filled a cup.

His mother’s words haunted him like some unearthly ghost,
“If you venture into town you’ll end up tied to a big wood post.

“Others, they don’t understand a voice that does not rhyme.
Rhyming is all they ever do; they do it all the time.”

But Edward was a trusting lass, her warnings went unheeded.
The hunger pangs grew stronger, and food was desperately needed.

He bundled up possessions that might prove to have some worth.
When it was tied around his waist, it doubled his natural girth.

He left behind the only home that he had ever known,
and the sun-dried field, that might never again be sown.

His simple mind could not fathom that his journey was fraught with danger.
His heart was as pure and spotless as a baby in a manger.

And so he trekked a lonely path to the town that unknowingly waited
for his unanticipated arrival in a festering community that only hated.

I for one, like this type of poetry and I also enjoy series or sets of poetry with a story line. Wicked once sent me to Basic poetry.com and it lists all the styles of poetry and how they are structured, it was a big help in understanding the various styles and I dabbled in several of them which created the ballads and odes that I wrote "The Rose" series poems of last year (My Erotic Tale) so, I speak only for myself, but I liked this poem.

 

[Guest]

http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/types.html

This is a great link. Go here and click on the types of poetry you'd like to learn. Read, read, and read some more.

 

[ElusivButterfly]

I have no idea what the "experts" call poetry (other than what I learned in school)...All I know is if one feels it, writes it, then it IS poetry (a subjective term to me).

I write upon occasion, some of it ryhmes, much of it does not. I call it "free lance poetry" (proper terms I know not). If I feel it and I have the urge to put pen to paper (yes, I write it all on paper first..my therapy, if you will), I share it. I may not place all I write on Lit or anywhere online, but, if my need arises, I share.

To me, poetry is like thinking. You share what you like, keep the rest. Matters not if it is "tradional". Matters not if it makes sense to anyone but yourself. If you feel a rhythm, a flow...it is poetry.

*climbs down*

Just my .02

 

[only_more_so]

To do the quote box, I click on the button in the bottom right of the post I want to quote, which says "Quote" rather than the reply button. You can also do it manually by adding a {quote}The text you want to quote{/quote} except with square brackets inside of curly brackets.

As for your poem. I think that it started a bit on the childish version that A-B rhyming couplets always seems to evoke, but it definately improved the further down I read. Basically, the way I read it, at the beginning the rhyme scheme dominated over the text. Later the text was able to show through.

 

[AsylumSeeker]

I Was Blind

I was blind until Only More So gave me vision. And to think that Quote button was there all the time (please tell me it wasn't - embarrassed). Thanks for this wondrous revelation. Now I understand why the drive-thru ATMs have braille... for "blind" guys like me.

Thanks for your continued feedback. I can see that if I did some research into the mechanics of poetry it might give me more flexibility in my story-telling. In other words, why limit myself to A-B when there may be more venues for my writing style to evolve.

Thanks much to all for enlightening me. And please don't refrain from continuing to do so.