Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,357
Do you ever read a poem you love and then, consciously or not, write a poem that's similar to it? I'm not talking about plagiarizing, but reinterpreting what you believe to be a poem's theme. I've seen pairs of famous poets do it and I've done it myself.
I was just reading this Ted Berrigan poem and realized I had been influenced by it to write my poem Things to Do on Tuesday. In that case it was totally unconscious, and there were years between my reading the Berrigan and writing my poem. But look.
Things I Do Every Day
Ted Berrigan
wake up
smoke pot
see the cat
love my wife
think of Frank
eat lunch
make noises
sing songs
go out
dig the streets
go home for dinner
read the Post
make pee-pee
two kids
grin
read books
see my friends
get pissed-off
have a Pepsi
disappear
Things to Do on Tuesday
Angeline
Start your car.
Go to work,
get caught in a traffic jam.
Try to pretend you’re not
looking at the road psychos
screaming rage at each other
through windows rolled up
and doors locked.
Wait for the elevator.
Say “Hello, Hello,
Good Morning.
I’m fine.
How are you?”
Get off at the third floor.
See a friend you love
but are unable to connect
to because the vast gulf
of this building, this daily drivel
makes false shadows pass
between you, a soup of fog
too thick to cross.
Turn on your office light, the computer.
Tap, tap, tap.
Go to meetings.
Have IMPORTANT conversations.
Curl yourself up to hide
from an artillery of petty attacks.
Next time it might be you.
Eat lunch.
Tap, tap, tap
Three o’clock. Staying calm.
Drink cold water, yawn, stretch,
and go to the bathroom.
Leave work. Drive home.
The traffic psychos are looser,
more swaggering now.
It’s Miller time.
Home. Dinner.
Pay a bill. Have a fight
over money. Clean a spill,
read a story, give a bath,
call Mother, kiss a boo-boo.
Get in bed
and think about how much
you love that bed. The sheets
and pillows are so soft,
compromising.
Open a book
and dive into the words.
Remember your name,
remember who you are
just so you can willingly
lose yourself, float there
through that world
until someone says
“Aren’t you ever going to turn off the light?”
And you do.
And you try to sleep.
Have you ever done this or have good examples of other poets who have? If you haven't you can try it yourself if the idea appeals.

I was just reading this Ted Berrigan poem and realized I had been influenced by it to write my poem Things to Do on Tuesday. In that case it was totally unconscious, and there were years between my reading the Berrigan and writing my poem. But look.
Things I Do Every Day
Ted Berrigan
wake up
smoke pot
see the cat
love my wife
think of Frank
eat lunch
make noises
sing songs
go out
dig the streets
go home for dinner
read the Post
make pee-pee
two kids
grin
read books
see my friends
get pissed-off
have a Pepsi
disappear
Things to Do on Tuesday
Angeline
Start your car.
Go to work,
get caught in a traffic jam.
Try to pretend you’re not
looking at the road psychos
screaming rage at each other
through windows rolled up
and doors locked.
Wait for the elevator.
Say “Hello, Hello,
Good Morning.
I’m fine.
How are you?”
Get off at the third floor.
See a friend you love
but are unable to connect
to because the vast gulf
of this building, this daily drivel
makes false shadows pass
between you, a soup of fog
too thick to cross.
Turn on your office light, the computer.
Tap, tap, tap.
Go to meetings.
Have IMPORTANT conversations.
Curl yourself up to hide
from an artillery of petty attacks.
Next time it might be you.
Eat lunch.
Tap, tap, tap
Three o’clock. Staying calm.
Drink cold water, yawn, stretch,
and go to the bathroom.
Leave work. Drive home.
The traffic psychos are looser,
more swaggering now.
It’s Miller time.
Home. Dinner.
Pay a bill. Have a fight
over money. Clean a spill,
read a story, give a bath,
call Mother, kiss a boo-boo.
Get in bed
and think about how much
you love that bed. The sheets
and pillows are so soft,
compromising.
Open a book
and dive into the words.
Remember your name,
remember who you are
just so you can willingly
lose yourself, float there
through that world
until someone says
“Aren’t you ever going to turn off the light?”
And you do.
And you try to sleep.
Have you ever done this or have good examples of other poets who have? If you haven't you can try it yourself if the idea appeals.

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