Ten Comandments

wildsweetone said:
I stumbled over this today. Be warned, it's a long read.

Ten Comandments...

whoa I'll say it is long. I want the Cliff's notes :)

but good. Maybe you should steal one a week and post them here so we can read through in small bites.

I am going to show myself to bed.

night! and thanks for the link! A good read (although I admit I skimmed parts)

~J
 
Sounds like a good idea :)

Commandment the First: Show, don't tell.
English teachers tried (and failed, it seems, in most cases) to pound this into our skulls all the way through school. There's a reason for it; with the exception of scholarly research, which by definition is built on other sources, the image is the centerpiece of all writing. This is true of poetry, especially now with free verse, because, as I said before, so little distinguishes free verse from prose. Prose can get away with more in the way of value-judgment writing, because you have more space to work with; poetry, by dint of its brevity, cannot.

This is the commandment most broken by novice (and, oftentimes, professional) poets. It is also the most set in stone. Every other commandment in this list, and many others written by other poets besides, is a judgment call of sorts, more opinion than hard fact, and valid arguments can be made against all of them. There can be valid arguments made against this one, of course, but the number is so few that it's unwise to try to keep it up in an argument for longer than a few minutes.

Yes, as you can discern from the above paragraph, there are a select few poets who are capable of straying into the world of vague writing and make it work, both in poetry and in its (nowadays) bastard stepchild songwriting. However, the fact that they are so few, among the massive number of poets, should be testament to how difficult a trick it is. To get it out of the way, I'll provide a partial list of those who have done it: Bukowski, Lyn Lifshin, Hayden Carruth, Denise Levertov, Charles Simic, Robert Penn Warren, Guillaume Apollinaire. There are others, to be sure. But they are the finest of the lot.

You will note a few things about that list, if you know poetry. All are American or European; all are twentieth-century writers. Writers of the nineteenth century and before would no more think of dismissing the image than they would of taking prose and making it into a poem by chopping it up into lines; this applies to both the lyricists and the narrative poets. Eastern poets have been so enmeshed in the image for so long that even those writing today cleave to it with all their heart. Haiku isn't a form of poetry over there, it's a state religion. And this rule is, for all intents and purposes, unbreakable in Eastern haiku. Pick up a Japanese haiku magazine that has an English cognate (you can find them now and again in better bookstores), or a collection of haiku from one of the Japanese masters of the form. Look for anything that isn't rooted in an image. Bet you a hundred bucks you can't find it.

Think back over the years, assuming you enjoy reading (and if you're a poet who doesn't enjoy reading, the chances for you to become a serious student of the art are almost nil; there has, arguably, been a single figure to fit that bill, Arthur Rimbaud, and so little is known about his life that no one's sure whether he was illiterate or the best-read youth in Paris). Go back as far as you need to in things you've read-- twentieth century, nineteenth, Shakespeare, Malory, Beowulf, Lao Tzu, Virgil, Confucius, Homer, the Gilgamesh poet. Think about the books that have imprinted you the most, the ones that stick out in your mind. Those you read ten, twenty, thirty years ago whose scenes you can still bring to mind as if you read them yesterday. Stuff you memorized does not count. What is it about those books that causes them to stick in your head? Simple-- you can see what's going on when you read it, and what you see is unforgettable.

If you want to write poetry that will stick in the heads of those who read it as does Beowulf's rampage through the dining hall, Odysseus tied to the mainsail shaft while sailing past the Sirens, Huck Finn travelling down the Mississippi, Sir Gawain kneeling before the Green Knight, Judge Holden pulling the Kid into the outhouse to meet his death, or any of an hundred thousand other memorable scenes I could name, and any of those you want to supply yourself, you have to make the reader see the scene. If you do that, not only are you well on your way to crafting the best poetry you can, but you're also ahead of 99% of the other poets submitting to The New Yorker, The Paris Review, The Alsop Review, Poetry, and the rest of the bigs. Once you've got this down, all that remains is honing the language until it is of the finest edge.
 
WSO?? This right here is an excellent Challenge! Post one of these a week, and challenge any and all to submit an example of the Commandment. What could be more instructive?

Do I see a show of hands?
 
Phooey! I just printed it out for bedtime reading! Oh well - night-night.

:kiss:
 
lol

Tris? Does that hand on your ass count as a thumbs UP or a thumbs DOWN??
 
wildsweetone said:
I stumbled over this today. Be warned, it's a long read.

Ten Comandments...


Very interesting and informative piece, though why the writer had to be so snooty about the information he imparts escapes me. :)

I especially like commandment ten. And I am not sure I agree about Buk; I think Neruda sells more, but maybe not.

Thanks Wild--excellent link.
 
Angeline said:
Very interesting and informative piece, though why the writer had to be so snooty about the information he imparts escapes me. :)

I especially like commandment ten. And I am not sure I agree about Buk; I think Neruda sells more, but maybe not.

Thanks Wild--excellent link.

i agree the piece is informative, if you can wind your way around the snootiness. :) see, Ange...i'm agreeing with you. :kiss:

there is a lot of good information here, and the writer was clever enough to cover his ass for imparting bad information (there is some of that also, i think) with the statement "if you follow them, and learn enough to know when they're breakable, you will be writing better poetry"

i think the best piece of information, since so few are aware of it, is the opinion that in poetry the last word of a line is the most important. i believe that. it is so well stated i can forgive the writer for making a list of words that should never be used. i think ALL words should be used. the trick is using them well.

thanks for the link, wild. :rose:
 
Last edited:
Cliff's notes cont.

Commandment the Second: End every line with the most meaningful word you can.

This one inspires a lot of controversy, because so few poets adhere to it. There are a number of folks who believe the first word on a line, not the last, is the most important. My reason for believing the opposite is quite simple. When reading poetry, a reader will have to sift his eye at the end of each line, allowing the last word on each line on the poem more breathing room in the skull. The end words of the lines are the words that the reader will most remember as he goes through the poem. Thus, those are the words that should be the most important.

Corollary (Commandment II A, transitional to Commandment III): Putting any word on a line by itself will stress the importance of that word. Both the end-meaningful and beginning-meaningful schools of thought agree on this. If a word is on a line by itself, that word must be the most important word in the poem. It's decisions like this that allow a poet to slant an imagist poem with value judgments; these sorts of tricks are allowable, if you feel you must impart meaning in your poems. (Here's a hint: you don't. Let the images, the word choice, and things like this so the work for you. Your subconscious will choose the right words and arrange them.)


I'm still chewing on this - keep the Rolaids (sp?) handy.
 
Tristesse said:
Commandment the Second: End every line with the most meaningful word you can.

This one inspires a lot of controversy, because so few poets adhere to it. There are a number of folks who believe the first word on a line, not the last, is the most important. My reason for believing the opposite is quite simple. When reading poetry, a reader will have to sift his eye at the end of each line, allowing the last word on each line on the poem more breathing room in the skull. The end words of the lines are the words that the reader will most remember as he goes through the poem. Thus, those are the words that should be the most important.

Corollary (Commandment II A, transitional to Commandment III): Putting any word on a line by itself will stress the importance of that word. Both the end-meaningful and beginning-meaningful schools of thought agree on this. If a word is on a line by itself, that word must be the most important word in the poem. It's decisions like this that allow a poet to slant an imagist poem with value judgments; these sorts of tricks are allowable, if you feel you must impart meaning in your poems. (Here's a hint: you don't. Let the images, the word choice, and things like this so the work for you. Your subconscious will choose the right words and arrange them.)


I'm still chewing on this - keep the Rolaids (sp?) handy.

Examples, ...examples!!!
 
BooMerengue said:
You have to make your own examples! Then put them here and see what happens...

What?!? Just like Jehovah with your commandments! At least pagans give examples.
 
Alt said:
Examples, ...examples!!!


i will try to give some examples why i think the last word in a line is the most important.

the rationale behind that concept, i think, is that a reader's eyes naturally stop momentarily there, at line's end. so if you linebreak well, you can actually get the reader to read the last word of a line twice, once as it is (without the next line), and a second time 'with' the next line.

here is a section of a poem i wrote recently. the lines in question are in bold print.

quarry. She met it at a dock in Red Hook,
made certain only men whose names
had proper vowels handled its dignity.
Distant relatives she thought, who knew
the gentle steps of honor. My
grandmother taught me to walk
without touching the ground

when we danced.
She drew the Venetians


by leaving the word "walk" at line's end, the reader should feel 2 separate concepts as they read....#1 - that line by itself and #2 - that line read in conjunction with the following line. so the reader reads both:

1) my grandmother taught me to walk (which i want them to feel)

and

2) my grandmother taught me to walk without touching the ground (which i also want them to feel)

and, by breaking at the word "ground", they also should read the entire sentence as one thought, and get a third meaning:

3) my grandmother taught me to walk without touching the ground when we danced.


if different words were left at line's end, they would only get the third and last reading, instead of the multi-layered one i outlined above.


example:

quarry. She met it at a dock in Red Hook,
made certain only men whose names
had proper vowels handled its dignity.
Distant relatives she thought, who knew
the gentle steps of honor. My
grandmother taught me to
walk without touching the

ground when we danced.
She drew the Venetians



by leaving the unimportant words "to" and "the" at lines end, much is lost.


i hope this helps some.

:rose:
 
PatCarrington said:
i will try to give some examples why i think the last word in a line is the most important.

i hope this helps some.

:rose:


Thank you!
 
PatCarrington said:
i will try to give some examples why i think the last word in a line is the most important.

the rationale behind that concept, i think, is that a reader's eyes naturally stop momentarily there, at line's end. so if you linebreak well, you can actually get the reader to read the last word of a line twice, once as it is (without the next line), and a second time 'with' the next line.

here is a section of a poem i wrote recently. the lines in question are in bold print.

quarry. She met it at a dock in Red Hook,
made certain only men whose names
had proper vowels handled its dignity.
Distant relatives she thought, who knew
the gentle steps of honor. My
grandmother taught me to walk
without touching the ground

when we danced.
She drew the Venetians


by leaving the word "walk" at line's end, the reader should feel 2 separate concepts as they read....#1 - that line by itself and #2 - that line read in conjunction with the following line. so the reader reads both:

1) my grandmother taught me to walk (which i want them to feel)

and

2) my grandmother taught me to walk without touching the ground (which i also want them to feel)

and, by breaking at the word "ground", they also should read the entire sentence as one thought, and get a third meaning:

3) my grandmother taught me to walk without touching the ground when we danced.


if different words were left at line's end, they would only get the third and last reading, instead of the multi-layered one i outlined above.


example:

quarry. She met it at a dock in Red Hook,
made certain only men whose names
had proper vowels handled its dignity.
Distant relatives she thought, who knew
the gentle steps of honor. My
grandmother taught me to
walk without touching the

ground when we danced.
She drew the Venetians



by leaving the unimportant words "to" and "the" at lines end, much is lost.


i hope this helps some.

:rose:

Also "to" is a preposition--we don't want any truck with prepositions at the end of lines, do we Patrick?

Feel free to agree. :p

:rose:
 
Yay! I'm so glad everyone's found this as interesting as I have, I'm glad I shared it. :)

Here's another link to help Pat explain the line breaks (not that he needs the help but just because I tripped over this site too last night) - very informative reading: Post Poems

I think I'll start up another thread. Keep this one for the discussion of the Ten Commandments and use the other one for anyone who wants to practise them.
 
Angeline said:
Also "to" is a preposition--we don't want any truck with prepositions at the end of lines, do we Patrick?

Feel free to agree. :p

:rose:


i agree..................almost.

i live by that rule....no prepositions at line's end.

but there are exceptions to everything, as you know, dear friend. :)


like this:



Part the leather. No green is in there,
but you are. That’s you under the flap.
Recognize that glossy smile? Your old
locket on my key ring? I gave them
special corners, carried them the way
a man does things of value. Inside
folds and chambers, clipped onto items


the word "Inside" carries a very important second meaning when left alone, don't you think?

:rose:
 
PatCarrington said:
i agree..................almost.

i live by that rule....no prepositions at line's end.

but there are exceptions to everything, as you know, dear friend. :)


like this:



Part the leather. No green is in there,
but you are. That’s you under the flap.
Recognize that glossy smile? Your old
locket on my key ring? I gave them
special corners, carried them the way
a man does things of value. Inside
folds and chambers, clipped onto items


the word "Inside" carries a very important second meaning when left alone, don't you think?

:rose:

well i almost said this morning that the eleventh commandment should be that there's an exception to every rule, but didn't want to be misinterpreted because in fact the times one would use an exception are pretty rare.

i was lucky enough in college to study Shakespeare for a year with a really wonderful teacher who always told us--understand the basics and work with them; if you can use them to prove something unorthodox all the better, but you must first have the foundation. same concept, yknow?

:rose:
 
Angeline said:
well i almost said this morning that the eleventh commandment should be that there's an exception to every rule, but didn't want to be misinterpreted because in fact the times one would use an exception are pretty rare.

i was lucky enough in college to study Shakespeare for a year with a really wonderful teacher who always told us--understand the basics and work with them; if you can use them to prove something unorthodox all the better, but you must first have the foundation. same concept, yknow?

:rose:


i'm with you.

that 4 agreements in one day. :)

i am opening a bottle of expensive wine right now to celebrate. :rose:
 
PatCarrington said:
i'm with you.

that 4 agreements in one day. :)

i am opening a bottle of expensive wine right now to celebrate. :rose:

Well I just had a huge dinner (and dessert, something I almost never have), thus killing any potential benefit of my great cardio exercise earlier today, but for four agreements--what the hell. ;)

:rose:
 
PatCarrington said:
i will try to give some examples why i think the last word in a line is the most important.

the rationale behind that concept, i think, is that a reader's eyes naturally stop momentarily there, at line's end. so if you linebreak well, you can actually get the reader to read the last word of a line twice, once as it is (without the next line), and a second time 'with' the next line.

here is a section of a poem i wrote recently. the lines in question are in bold print.

quarry. She met it at a dock in Red Hook,
made certain only men whose names
had proper vowels handled its dignity.
Distant relatives she thought, who knew
the gentle steps of honor. My
grandmother taught me to walk
without touching the ground

when we danced.
She drew the Venetians


by leaving the word "walk" at line's end, the reader should feel 2 separate concepts as they read....#1 - that line by itself and #2 - that line read in conjunction with the following line. so the reader reads both:

1) my grandmother taught me to walk (which i want them to feel)

and

2) my grandmother taught me to walk without touching the ground (which i also want them to feel)

and, by breaking at the word "ground", they also should read the entire sentence as one thought, and get a third meaning:

3) my grandmother taught me to walk without touching the ground when we danced.


if different words were left at line's end, they would only get the third and last reading, instead of the multi-layered one i outlined above.


example:

quarry. She met it at a dock in Red Hook,
made certain only men whose names
had proper vowels handled its dignity.
Distant relatives she thought, who knew
the gentle steps of honor. My
grandmother taught me to
walk without touching the

ground when we danced.
She drew the Venetians



by leaving the unimportant words "to" and "the" at lines end, much is lost.


i hope this helps some.

:rose:

I find your posts like these very impressive. Have you read Empson's 7 types of Ambiguity ?
 
Fast1 said:
I find your posts like these very impressive. Have you read Empson's 7 types of Ambiguity ?

i remember Empson, so i must have, a while ago. i did some research to refresh my memory.

he does have some interesting theories.

his definition of ambiguity: any verbal nuance, however slight, which gives room for alternative reactions to the same piece of language.

His seven types of ambiguity are to be understood, according to my reading, as 'stages of advancing logical [or grammatical] disorder' that may be exhibited in a text, especially in poetry.

They range from written passages which may be understood in more than one way, all the way to outright contradiction.

It is esoteric reading, to say the least.
 
PatCarrington said:
i remember Empson, so i must have, a while ago. i did some research to refresh my memory.

he does have some interesting theories.

his definition of ambiguity: any verbal nuance, however slight, which gives room for alternative reactions to the same piece of language.

His seven types of ambiguity are to be understood, according to my reading, as 'stages of advancing logical [or grammatical] disorder' that may be exhibited in a text, especially in poetry.

They range from written passages which may be understood in more than one way, all the way to outright contradiction.

It is esoteric reading, to say the least.

Thank You, Mr. Carrington. I am beginning to wade though it. Your previous post reminded me of it.
 
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