Poetry + Prose = Prosetry?

[Angeline]

Let's talk about poetry and prose. What does it mean to you when I say think of prose that's poetic. Not flash fiction, not prose-poetry, but prose that has elements of poetry, that makes you think of poetry when you read it.

I know what I mean by it. There's a certain kind of writing that, to me, feels somewhere in a haze between prose and poetry. A good haze. Not all writers can do this, of course, but some seem to write that way whether they are trying to or not. The best example of this that comes to my mind is Virginia Woolf, and the best Woolf example I can think of is her magical novel Orlando. Here's what I mean:

He sighed profoundly, and flung himself--there was a passion in his
movements which deserves the word--on the earth at the foot of the oak
tree. He loved, beneath all this summer transiency, to feel the earth's
spine beneath him; for such he took the hard root of the oak tree to be;
or, for image followed image, it was the back of a great horse that he
was riding, or the deck of a tumbling ship--it was anything indeed, so
long as it was hard, for he felt the need of something which he could
attach his floating heart to; the heart that tugged at his side; the
heart that seemed filled with spiced and amorous gales every evening
about this time when he walked out. To the oak tree he tied it and as he
lay there, gradually the flutter in and about him stilled itself; the
little leaves hung, the deer stopped; the pale summer clouds stayed; his
limbs grew heavy on the ground; and he lay so still that by degrees the
deer stepped nearer and the rooks wheeled round him and the swallows
dipped and circled and the dragonflies shot past, as if all the fertility
and amorous activity of a summer's evening were woven web-like about his
body.

Sigh. That passage always makes me sigh at its utter gorgousness.

So I definitely would not call that poetry. It certainly has many things I would specifically try to avoid when writing a poem. Not just excess pronouns or articles, but~gasp~adverbs! All joking aside though, it has many poetic elements imo: strong images that shift, painterly vision, repetitions that do nothing more than reinforce and/or expand the images. So, to me, it seems caught somewhere between poetry and prose. It's a sort of writing I'd like to emulate, but have never been able to. But I want to try. I'm just not sure how to go about it. I hope talking it out with all of you might get me--and you--there.

So what do you think, dear poets? What sort of writing comes to your mind when you think of writing that is prose but poetic? Have any examples (your own or others)? What distinguishes such writing from straight prose--and from poetry?

I know I talked about a contest, but we're still in a fog about all this, so let's talk it through and see where it takes us first. And I haven't heard back from Laurel yet anyway, but I'm pretty sure that's cause she's on vacation.

So please have at it in this thread. Discuss, hijack, flirt, whatever floats your boat, but see if you can help define what this type of writing should look like.

 

[bflagsst]

V Woolf: The Waves

"Through the chink in the hedge," said Susan, "I saw her kiss him. I raised my head from my flower- pot and looked through a chink in the hedge. I saw her kiss him. I saw them, Jinny and Louis, kissing. Now I will wrap my agony inside my pocket-handkerchief. It shall be screwed tight into a ball. I will go to the beech wood alone, before lessons. I will not sit at a table, doing sums. I will not sit next Jinny and next Louis. I will take my anguish and lay it upon the roots under the beech trees. I will examine it and take it between my fingers. They will not find me. I shall eat nuts and peer for eggs through the brambles and my hair will be matted and I shall sleep under hedges and drink water from ditches and die there."

 

[hmmnmm]

Ah ha

closed my eyes, reached into a random file and pulled out a random passage




The scene’s breeze gentle whips offered an inviting though strange pleasure that few but one with a will securely anchored could ably refuse since its temptation dangled a supposed advocacy of it being completely free of any stench of guilt; an otherwise inconsequential moment suffered enforced expansion; sensatory thrusts dampened by prophylactic protection took the open access; plumbed and manipulated muscular walls already somewhat sore. Yet even as the frictional union did not relent, a giddiness squirted suspicious-smelling goop all over the symphonic scene. Hot floods of sensation nearly swamped awareness’s rational necessity to reclaim precious ground.

I realized almost too late that though I’d come far, though I stood on the ledge of a fuzzy destiny, complete victory was not mine to claim, at least not just yet; even at that late hour, the briny string brigades threatened to usurp my innermost being, they would seal my hope of deliverance in a frozen scream, once and for all.

It would be fate’s intent to use its clammy crabby fingers to wrap my spent soul inside a buttery crepe, toss me off that fuzzy ledge, smothered within that moist crepe; subsequent freedom could come only at great cost, if any coming would be allowed at all. It would be too far into the future to see whether coastal fowl might debate fate’s motive and snatch the forsaken crepe, poor me taken too, as pure process would dominate; or if not that fortunate, an end destined for disgrace; become a widowed sea urchin’s disposable plaything, a sea urchin heartless and psychotic.

I’d fixed my sweaty feet in an assumptive stance of victory. Treacherous territories, literal, metaphorical, assorted polarities, the seen and unseen; the factually arguable and the mysteriously unexplainable; tangible and spiritual, planes low and way way heavenly high; all I’d trod, even some of the dots really hard to make out were visited with the passage of obliquity as I crossed their county lines. And the claim, the attainment of that right to sup the juices of victory had indeed come at a cost that eludes any attempt to really measure with much precision.

 

[Liar]

Poetic is an adjective. Many things can be. Prose included.

Though I don't find most of what passes as poetic prose very much akin to poetry at all. Most often it is prose wearing the clothes of poetry, but not the body. Flowery speech, metaphor laden elocution, rhymes and distinct prosody baked into thwe narration.... and lo and behold: poetry prose.

Except it's not. Because it's the skin of poetry, but not the bones and meat.

Poetry is the revolutionary idea, the bilateral mind fuck, the perspective you'd never think of, something that mere description can't explain, if it wasn't for a poet twisting a piece of language skillfully around it.

I know that this's not everyone's idea of poetry, but it's mine. And in that regard, very little of artful and elaborate and sometimes downright beautiful prose, is actually poetic.

I wish there were some of my favourite author translated to English for y'all. Norweigan humorist Erlend Loe. When he brings his A-game, only a fourth of the imaginative ideas and perspectives of his stories lies in what is written. The rest lies in how. That's poetry prose to me.

 

[bflagsst]

...

I wish there were some of my favourite author translated to English for y'all. Norweigan humorist Erlend Loe. When he brings his A-game, only a fourth of the imaginative ideas and perspectives of his stories lies in what is written. The rest lies in how. That's poetry prose to me.

This is an exploration, we are looking for the possibility of in-between. We aren't accepting what has already passed as prose poetry or poetical prose, we are looking for a fresh style. Most of us are strictly poet, we don't want to wear the clothes of poetry, we want to wear the clothes of prose for a minute. Naive, Super is a good book, but in English I don't see what you see.

 

[Liar]

This is an exploration, we are looking for the possibility of in-between. We aren't accepting what has already passed as prose poetry or poetical prose, we are looking for a fresh style. Most of us are strictly poet, we don't want to wear the clothes of poetry, we want to wear the clothes of prose for a minute. Naive, Super is a good book, but in English I don't see what you see.

I'm not sure it's there. It's his first effort. And more amusing than innovative. There's also a tone in it that you have to be typically scandinavian in spirit to quite appreciate, I think.

Anyway, about wearing the clothes of prose... why don't you? Because the clothes of poetry are comfier?

How do you start off when writing a poem? An idea of some kind. A thought, a thing, a story, a concept that you want to share with peple.

What makes to choose to communicate it in typical poetry form? (whatever that is) Could you make the choice to communicate the same idea in other ways? Or are certain ideas only possible to get through as poems?

 

[bflagsst]

I'm not sure it's there. It's his first effort. And more amusing than innovative. There's also a tone in it that you have to be typically scandinavian in spirit to quite appreciate, I think.

Anyway, about wearing the clothes of prose... why don't you? Because the clothes of poetry are comfier?

How do you start off when writing a poem? An idea of some kind. A thought, a thing, a story, a concept that you want to share with peple.

What makes to choose to communicate it in typical poetry form? (whatever that is) Could you make the choice to communicate the same idea in other ways? Or are certain ideas only possible to get through as poems?

At first blush, I'd say you could convey the same thing in prose as poetry. But a poem is usually a complete idea conveying one instance of feeling, a theme-statement, whereas a story seems to be a bunch of interconnected instances and thoughts. I prefer poetry because I can say more in 8 lines than in pages of prose, and technically poetry is easier for me because my grammar is poor. I start with a first line or a group of words that makes me feel something, usually something concise and expressible in a quarter portion of a page.

At second perusal, I'd say it's what you leave open to the reader to read into that makes poetry distinct. In a story you can leave all sorts of subtext, but there's so much information you don't stop and think over a passage like over a well-made poem. The reader has an expectation of each, maybe the glasses the reader puts on for prose erases any possibility of a really original poetical prose. When I read prose poetry I usually start thinking "This isn't even poetry, it's just a half-ass story in verse." Maybe there can't be a real crossover because of how we're programmed to approach each art.

 

[Angeline]

At first blush, I'd say you could convey the same thing in prose as poetry. But a poem is usually a complete idea conveying one instance of feeling, a theme-statement, whereas a story seems to be a bunch of interconnected instances and thoughts. I prefer poetry because I can say more in 8 lines than in pages of prose, and technically poetry is easier for me because my grammar is poor. I start with a first line or a group of words that makes me feel something, usually something concise and expressible in a quarter portion of a page.

At second perusal, I'd say it's what you leave open to the reader to read into that makes poetry distinct. In a story you can leave all sorts of subtext, but there's so much information you don't stop and think over a passage like over a well-made poem.

And this, obviously, reflects your opinion. I know you're not saying all poetry is narrative--at least I don't think you are. But some poetry is very, very far from narrative. Some poetry simply evokes impressions and feelings in a reader. To me, the best poetry transcends narrative and what I'm left with as a reader is not so much an understanding as feelings. In the example I posted from Woolf, nothing is happening in the way of plot. The character is laying under a tree. Period. And yet there's a world of feeling being evoked there--impressions of everything from the actual tree to a horse to a ship rolling on the ocean. When you finish reading it, it feels like it's more than the sum of its parts (if that makes sense).

Prose does not necessarily need to be strictly informative. And I think the less informative--at least in a strict linear sense of "this happens then that happens," the more poetic.

 

[Angeline]

closed my eyes, reached into a random file and pulled out a random passage




The scene’s breeze gentle whips offered an inviting though strange pleasure that few but one with a will securely anchored could ably refuse since its temptation dangled a supposed advocacy of it being completely free of any stench of guilt; an otherwise inconsequential moment suffered enforced expansion; sensatory thrusts dampened by prophylactic protection took the open access; plumbed and manipulated muscular walls already somewhat sore. Yet even as the frictional union did not relent, a giddiness squirted suspicious-smelling goop all over the symphonic scene. Hot floods of sensation nearly swamped awareness’s rational necessity to reclaim precious ground.

I realized almost too late that though I’d come far, though I stood on the ledge of a fuzzy destiny, complete victory was not mine to claim, at least not just yet; even at that late hour, the briny string brigades threatened to usurp my innermost being, they would seal my hope of deliverance in a frozen scream, once and for all.

It would be fate’s intent to use its clammy crabby fingers to wrap my spent soul inside a buttery crepe, toss me off that fuzzy ledge, smothered within that moist crepe; subsequent freedom could come only at great cost, if any coming would be allowed at all. It would be too far into the future to see whether coastal fowl might debate fate’s motive and snatch the forsaken crepe, poor me taken too, as pure process would dominate; or if not that fortunate, an end destined for disgrace; become a widowed sea urchin’s disposable plaything, a sea urchin heartless and psychotic.

I’d fixed my sweaty feet in an assumptive stance of victory. Treacherous territories, literal, metaphorical, assorted polarities, the seen and unseen; the factually arguable and the mysteriously unexplainable; tangible and spiritual, planes low and way way heavenly high; all I’d trod, even some of the dots really hard to make out were visited with the passage of obliquity as I crossed their county lines. And the claim, the attainment of that right to sup the juices of victory had indeed come at a cost that eludes any attempt to really measure with much precision.

Oh Tihmmmy, I knew you were a natch for this kind of writing. I especially like this:

It would be fate’s intent to use its clammy crabby fingers to wrap my spent soul inside a buttery crepe, toss me off that fuzzy ledge, smothered within that moist crepe; subsequent freedom could come only at great cost, if any coming would be allowed at all. It would be too far into the future to see whether coastal fowl might debate fate’s motive and snatch the forsaken crepe, poor me taken too, as pure process would dominate; or if not that fortunate, an end destined for disgrace; become a widowed sea urchin’s disposable plaything, a sea urchin heartless and psychotic.

Lookin good.

 

[bflagsst]

And this, obviously, reflects your opinion. I know you're not saying all poetry is narrative--at least I don't think you are...

I'm saying poetry can't be narrative, effectively, and that's the gap between poetry and prose. What you said about poetry is pretty much the same thing I did, it conveys an instance, a feeling, one expression. Poetry falls flat in narrative because of what we've come to expect from it. We'd get distracted by the form of poetry if we were to tell a story in verse. Shakespeare works better for me in his free verse moments, Dante is a better read in English than Old Italian. They tell very intricate human stories, you wanna follow the thread of thoughts, not have to think about the sound of their words.

Prose is entirely informative as far as I can tell, Virginia wants to set you in a moment, describe that moment down to the suicidal thought in the passage I quote. I'd say prose can do what poetry does before I'd say the opposite. Of course everything I say is my opinon and I'm not trying to speak for anyone else, I just hate the idea of saying "I believe/think/in my opinion" before I write or say something. If you think about it, "I think/believe/in my opinion" as a preface to a statement shouldn't exist in our language because the notion is implicit.

 

[champagne1982]

I disagree about the think, opinion and believe because sometimes I know, will and disagree .

 

[Angeline]

I'm saying poetry can't be narrative, effectively, and that's the gap between poetry and prose. What you said about poetry is pretty much the same thing I did, it conveys an instance, a feeling, one expression. Poetry falls flat in narrative because of what we've come to expect from it. We'd get distracted by the form of poetry if we were to tell a story in verse. Shakespeare works better for me in his free verse moments, Dante is a better read in English than Old Italian. They tell very intricate human stories, you wanna follow the thread of thoughts, not have to think about the sound of their words.

Prose is entirely informative as far as I can tell, Virginia wants to set you in a moment, describe that moment down to the suicidal thought in the passage I quote. I'd say prose can do what poetry does before I'd say the opposite. Of course everything I say is my opinon and I'm not trying to speak for anyone else, I just hate the idea of saying "I believe/think/in my opinion" before I write or say something. If you think about it, "I think/believe/in my opinion" as a preface to a statement shouldn't exist in our language because the notion is implicit.

Ok, but I preface lots of things with I think/believe/know/opine because some readers don't recognize that otherwise. I don't like to assume that anyone understands that implicitly. Maybe that comes from teaching seventh grade, which I did a loong time ago.

And I disagree with you about narrative. Anything that tells a story is, by definition, narrative. Some poems tell stories. Many of mine do, and to that extent they are narrative. Informative writing, on the other hand, explains something, like how to file a tax return for example. And persuasive prose argues some point. There's overlap in all writing, sure, but prose--as opposed to poetry--tends to have a concrete purpose: to inform about something, to convince someone of something, to tell a story. I can imagine telling a story in a poem, but not trying to convince someone (except in the most subtextual, implicit way that I want a reader to believe anything I write). And if I ever write a poem with the sole purpose of informing, well just take me out and shoot me.

 

[hmmnmm]

this was originally in stanzas, mostly


The golden era actor, who also often danced, juggled sticks over the woodsy cabin’s woodstove fire. Violet painted the window, orange sherbet broken frays streaked its pane.

The actor doffed a photogenic flourish, and his slicked-back walnut hair vied for visual compensation. In other words he mugged, and he could croon, if the chance, winsome dressed, came his way.

Just then, the heroine, off-camera, came. She came not in the scene or in the actor’s arms. She was no crooner. Cords born not for song. She lipped her lyrics; another, off stage, sang them.

Came behind the camera, the heroine. And if truth unsoiled be known it was none other than the camera man whom the heroine did come for, and slightly behind. She came with a cry she muffled with her hand, and smudged semen inadvertently across her lips that emoted the seminal drama she faced coming recently from the camera man.

The actor’s jealousy long simmering, finally erupted, and crooned a curse.

The heroine never offered to jack off the actor. Never! Always business. No more. No fling. No dalliance. Not one quick stroke, not one teeny tiny charitable poke. Pretending to kiss for movie-goers drunk on bathtub gin. Lickety split, whore pulled down the cameraman’s pants, jacked him off while the silver screen actor crooner fiddled for the camera, fake sticks.

The heroine’s lips dripping semen, verbally accosted her costar. “We are not lovers, you and I!”

“And he is your lover?” The actor pointed a dramatic digit at the cameraman, and his blazing blue eyes at the post-orgasmic heroine.

The cameraman hoping to maintain his cushy gig furtively glanced at the cabin door, or the thin painted board door representation, since they were not inside a real cabin and they weren’t even in woods or woody terrain.

The actor thrust his hands out outwardly so they menaced.

The cameraman took a dash for the fake cabin door, but was tackled by the actor, and they both crashed through the painted window.


Meanwhile, the director was not incognizant.

Accustomed to vain actors, mousy heroines and doped up movie camera plebes obeying every whim he only had to speak, he yelled, “Cut!” and his complexion suffered sorely, stiffening, because for the first time since he’d carried an Oscar home nobody obeyed him. They cut not their antics at all. The director continued to yell “Cut!” and threw his director’s chair, his director’s megaphone, and his director’s cap across the set; ripped off his false moustache, and stomped it like a barbarian toddler.

The heroine, always excited by men losing their cool, prostrated herself, hitched up her dress, stuck her hand into her panties, and masturbated.

The director, seeing her prostrated, seeing her masturbate, his cock went readily stiff; he shucked his pants down, the director did, and did jack his cock, raptly riveted upon his struggling heroine.

 

[bflagsst]

Ok, but I preface lots of things with I think/believe/know/opine because some readers don't recognize that otherwise. I don't like to assume that anyone understands that implicitly. Maybe that comes from teaching seventh grade, which I did a loong time ago.

I don't know that poems tell stories outside of the epic, that's why most prose poetry seems lacking to me. What are the parts of a story? Can a 14 line poem including the min ingredients to constitute a story? I'm not sure what a poem can and can't do(that's why I prefaced my statement with 'at first blush') as opposed to narrative prose, any other type of prose is out of the picture.

On the internet we use 'in my opinion' and all that because we're missing a big chunk of language, and we don't want to seem like we're pushing 'facts' down people's throats. So there are times to preface a statement when you want it to land softly. But when someone tells you 'that's your opinion' they're telling you you're wrong about your belief and usually in a confrontational way. An opinion is just as much a belief as a universal truth.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Dante is a better read in English than Old Italian.

[In my opinion] That's a big load of bullocks if I ever read one.

Speaking of Western literature only, if poetry didn't have a large component of narrative - perhaps not so much in contemporary poetry, which obviously taints our perspective - but certainly for centuries during the formative years of our languages, the whole purpose of poetry, was to convey a narrative in a way it would better engage the people. Even short personal poems (songs of love, songs of friendship and songs of scorn) were and still are more often narrative than momentarily.

I do agree with you when you say (loosely) that we are wired to approach poetry and prose differently. Maybe the definition of Prosetry that Angeline is looking for is prose that forces you to change your approach when you start reading it. Prose that forces you to see the poetry that is woven into the text.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

So what do you think, dear poets? What sort of writing comes to your mind when you think of writing that is prose but poetic? Have any examples (your own or others)?

Take a look at this book, Angeline. Use the "Look Inside" feature and read the first couple of pages.

 

[Liar]

Take a look at this book, Angeline. Use the "Look Inside" feature and read the first couple of pages.

Hmm, link no worky.

Author and title?

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I don't see how you can even think that poetry can't tell a story. What about ballads for instance and I've read poems by Eve that create such a wonderful story and paint the picture in my minds eye

 

[champagne1982]

I don't see how you can even think that poetry can't tell a story. What about ballads for instance and I've read poems by Eve that create such a wonderful story and paint the picture in my minds eye

Moreso, even, can a story be a poem? Can we invent such beautiful prose that we invoke emotion, physical response within a narrative? Can I make you cry because I'm describing the birth of a leaf from a bud with a taste of poetics inside a prose piece on botany? Maybe not, but I bet something like that could maybe make you giggle...

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Moreso, even, can a story be a poem? Can we invent such beautiful prose that we invoke emotion, physical response within a narrative? Can I make you cry because I'm describing the birth of a leaf from a bud with a taste of poetics inside a prose piece on botany? Maybe not, but I bet something like that could maybe make you giggle...

You wrote one on another thread not sure offhand which it was and it made me go all squirmy inside!

 

[bflagsst]

[In my opinion] That's a big load of bullocks if I ever read one.

Speaking of Western literature only, if poetry didn't have a large component of narrative - perhaps not so much in contemporary poetry, which obviously taints our perspective - but certainly for centuries during the formative years of our languages, the whole purpose of poetry, was to convey a narrative in a way it would better engage the people. Even short personal poems (songs of love, songs of friendship and songs of scorn) were and still are more often narrative than momentarily.

I do agree with you when you say (loosely) that we are wired to approach poetry and prose differently. Maybe the definition of Prosetry that Angeline is looking for is prose that forces you to change your approach when you start reading it. Prose that forces you to see the poetry that is woven into the text.

I wrote:

"I'm saying poetry can't be narrative, effectively, and that's the gap between poetry and prose."

"Poetry falls flat in narrative because of what we've come to expect from it. We'd get distracted by the form of poetry if we were to tell a story in verse. Shakespeare works better for me in his free verse moments, Dante is a better read in English than Old Italian. They tell very intricate human stories, you wanna follow the thread of thoughts, not have to think about the sound of their words."

You have to read the "effectively". Dante wrote an epic poem. You agree tentatively with my statement about how we're wired to approach poetry and prose. We think about poetry in terms of contemporary poetry which doesn't include the epic form. Will prosetry resemble the epic? The epic's dead because of the birth of the novel, and because of the printing press.

Instead of telling me I'm speaking my opinion and my opinion is wrong, you could ask me to explain or give me your alternate theory. Dante is better in English than in Old Italian, if you don't think so you don't have to give a reason, if you're curious I can tell you why. And it has to do with what we're talking about, the death of the epic, prose/poetry... Edgar Poe wrote an essay on it that we've mentioned in another thread, I recommend reading that.

 

[bflagsst]

It's probably going to end up being a waste of time arguing what poetry is and all the mumbo jumbo. I recommend continuing to show examples of what prosetry might look like. It's not going to matter if we can agree what prose is and what poetry is, we need someone to write something new in a new form.

Here are links to the essays I'm talking about in the last post:

The Poetic Principle: http://xroads.virginia.edu/~HYPER/poe/poetic.html

The Philosophy of Composition: http://xroads.virginia.edu/~HYPER/poe/composition.html

"Opinantes autem non sine ratione, tam ex superioribus quam inferioribus sumpta, ad ipsum Deum primitus primum hominem direxisse locutionem, rationabiliter dicimus ipsum loquentem primum, mox postquam afflatus est ab animante Virtute, incunctanter fuisse locutum. Nam in homine sentiri humanius credimus quam sentire, dumunodo sentiatur et sentiat tanquam homo. Si ergo faber ille atque perfectionis principium et amator afflando primum nostrum omni perfectione complevit, rationabile nobis apparet nobilissimum animal non ante sentire quam sentiri cepisse."

 

[LadynStFreknBed]

Anyway, about wearing the clothes of prose... why don't you? Because the clothes of poetry are comfier?

How do you start off when writing a poem? An idea of some kind. A thought, a thing, a story, a concept that you want to share with peple.

What makes to choose to communicate it in typical poetry form? (whatever that is) Could you make the choice to communicate the same idea in other ways? Or are certain ideas only possible to get through as poems?

I got lost in this post for awhile. Some good questions, Liar. Whenever I have that flash of a new perspective or an old one demanding attention, it almost always takes the form of a poem or a painting. If I get an idea that translates into prose, it is the storyline as a larger concept, most likely sociological, that I want to explore. Those transcending flashes are rare. I'm much more likely to have that flicker, the small spark that inspires a poem or painting.

When I read prose poetry I usually start thinking "This isn't even poetry, it's just a half-ass story in verse." Maybe there can't be a real crossover because of how we're programmed to approach each art.

You would think that two artistic forms of writing could be easily combined. The one that I reviewed on Monday caught my eye, because for once, I did not have that response of "This sucks. It is just a story that got thrown into the poetry because it's less than Lit's 750 word standard."

 

[Epmd607]

I also recommend reading The Poetic Principle. I was skimming it and came up with a little poem that I want to share because I don't think anyone's reading the all of a sudden thread anymore.


the poems get shorter
but more concise.

the smooching
gets shorter
but more
concise.


edit: I've been taking some of my poems and writing them in prose due to these new discussions. Check this couple lines out.

I heard it on the radio, about our collision. Before the court itself with its silly granite and awkward marble. The statue is hoofs up next to the podium on St. Patrick's day, where the firemen throw candy to the kids on the curb. When we were kids we caught our candy there, but that was before our wreck, and before we thought of each other as male and female sex.

 

[Angeline]

Take a look at this book, Angeline. Use the "Look Inside" feature and read the first couple of pages.

Yes, my little smarty pants. I read and see your point. And it comes as no surprise that a Portuguese writer can make it for you.

Hmm, link no worky.

Author and title?

Hiya L-man. Lauren was trying to link What Can I Do When Everything's On Fire, by Antonio Lobo Antunes. Here's the Amazon link she was trying to post so we can read an excerpt. Not sure if it'll work but if not at least you have a name/author now. And if you can read an excerpt, you'll see what she means.

Moreso, even, can a story be a poem? Can we invent such beautiful prose that we invoke emotion, physical response within a narrative? Can I make you cry because I'm describing the birth of a leaf from a bud with a taste of poetics inside a prose piece on botany? Maybe not, but I bet something like that could maybe make you giggle...

Ok, but let me know if you'll be around today. We got some 'splorin to do. And there's a reading tonight if you're interested.

I wrote:

"I'm saying poetry can't be narrative, effectively, and that's the gap between poetry and prose."

"Poetry falls flat in narrative because of what we've come to expect from it. We'd get distracted by the form of poetry if we were to tell a story in verse. Shakespeare works better for me in his free verse moments, Dante is a better read in English than Old Italian. They tell very intricate human stories, you wanna follow the thread of thoughts, not have to think about the sound of their words."

You have to read the "effectively". Dante wrote an epic poem. You agree tentatively with my statement about how we're wired to approach poetry and prose. We think about poetry in terms of contemporary poetry which doesn't include the epic form. Will prosetry resemble the epic? The epic's dead because of the birth of the novel, and because of the printing press.

Instead of telling me I'm speaking my opinion and my opinion is wrong, you could ask me to explain or give me your alternate theory. Dante is better in English than in Old Italian, if you don't think so you don't have to give a reason, if you're curious I can tell you why. And it has to do with what we're talking about, the death of the epic, prose/poetry... Edgar Poe wrote an essay on it that we've mentioned in another thread, I recommend reading that.

We shall agree to disagree. I can find sources to make my argument, too, but we just see this differently.

I also recommend reading The Poetic Principle. I was skimming it and just came up with a little poem that I want to share because I don't think anyone's reading the all of a sudden thread anymore.


the poems get shorter
but more concise.

the smooching
gets shorter
but more
concise.

Usually true, at least in modern poetry, but are concision and narrative mutually exclusive? I don't believe so. And I can think of poets I adore who are not particularly concise, like Robert Browning. You may disagree but that's the beauty of the genre: there's enough there for everyone to find writers that support our preferences.

We have different ways of seeing this and those differences will inform our respective writings. That's a strength of this forum, that we can see things differently but still produce good writing. I don't know how well it serves us to get into convincing each other (or trying to) that one person's understanding is the one right way. I'd rather put time into what works for me. And I hope others will do the same--not spend a lot of time on attempting to prove which way is right, but rather exploring how what's right for them translates into (for lack of a better word) "prosetry."