My Hero

For last Thursday’s Poem in Your Pocket Day, I chose “My Hero” by Billy Collins.

It’s a wonderful take on the old fable The Tortoise and the Hare. You can check it out here (it’s the second poem featured on the page).

I thought it was especially fitting because Billy Collins happens to be a poet-hero of mine.

Why?

Oh, let me count the whys…

1. Billy Collins has achieved the near-impossible as a poet — critical acclaim AND mass appeal.

2. He’s unbound those old bedfellows — poetry and poverty. His last three collections of poems have broken all sales records for poetry, and his publishers confirm six-figure advances (rumors say they’re a cool million).

3. Collins advocates accessible poetry over “difficult” poetry. And he’s got a lot of credibility in this department — he was once a “difficult” poet whose goal was to blurt out inner torment while employing clever verbal effects.  As he puts it, “I think I kind of bought into the assumption that poetry had to be extremely gloomy and incomprehensible, or nearly so.”

The change came when he stopped taking himself so seriously and dared to be clear. He says, “I think clarity is the real risk in poetry because you are exposed. You're out in the open field. You're actually saying things that are comprehensible, and it's easy to criticize something you can understand.”

4. He’s a late bloomer. Collins didn't even start writing poetry until he was in his 40’s, yet managed to get down to business. By the age of 60 he was the United States Poet Laureate (2001 to 2003).

5. He encourages the use of humor. When asked why, he responds with “You could just as easily ask, ‘Why is there so much seriousness in poetry?’”

Amen, Brother.

Along those lines, Collins includes Warner Brothers’ Merrie Melodies and Looney Tunes on his list of creative influences.

So, what is the Collins Recipe for Poetic Success?

He says you need four basic qualities to be a good poet:

1. Attentiveness

2. A love of language

3. A gratitude for life

And…

4. Laziness! (Collins admits that he’s unable to write for more than a half hour a day)

Well, I don’t know about you, but I've got those last three down cold, so I’m practically home free!

By the way, if you happen to run into me pecking away in a Pacific Northwest coffee shop, you might notice that two lanyards adorn my computer bag. They prove that I’m not the only Billy Collins fan in my household.

Years ago, my children made them for me after hearing his reading of “The Lanyard”.

Yeah…

We’re even.

PROMPT: Pick a tale — fable, fairy, or tall — and poetify it. Tell us the lyrical perspective of Babe the Blue Ox or Cinderella’s shoe. Bonus points for adding humor and naps to your day.

What’s in Your Pocket?

If you’re averse to this pocket,

you’d better put a verse in yours!

Today would be a great day to heed the warning from Dr. William Carlos Williams.

Why?

Because it’s National Poem in Your Pocket Day!

And you thought you’d missed it.

Yes, it's that festive time of the year when you’re supposed to carry a favorite poem in your pocket (hence the day’s clever name).

Then, when family and friends least expect it, you are to pull it out and recite, recite with all your might.

Fear not — everybody knows about this holiday, so you won’t receive odd looks or get hauled off for a mental evaluation.

I've even heard that a good recitation can get you out of a speeding ticket.

Um, regarding that last bit, Whovians take note —

The Doctor lies.

Well, I prefer to call it fiction.

PROMPT: DO NOT be a LOSER like this guy:

No Poem = LOSER!

Put a poem in your pocket and participate!

No Place Like It

  Home is the nicest word there is.

― Laura Ingalls Wilder

Yes, it’s where the heart is.

So, it should come as no surprise that thoughts of the old homeplace can make even a Commander-in-Chief wax poetic…

My Childhood Home I See Again

by Abraham Lincoln

 

My childhood home I see again,

And sadden with the view;

And still, as memory crowds my brain,

There's pleasure in it too.

O Memory! Thou midway world

'Twixt earth and paradise,

Where things decayed and loved ones lost

In dreamy shadows rise,

And, freed from all that's earthly vile,

Seem hallowed, pure, and bright,

Like scenes in some enchanted isle

All bathed in liquid light.

As dusky mountains please the eye

When twilight chases day;

As bugle-notes that, passing by,

In distance die away;

As leaving some grand waterfall,

We, lingering, list its roar--

So memory will hallow all

We've known, but know no more.

Near twenty years have passed away

Since here I bid farewell

To woods and fields, and scenes of play,

And playmates loved so well.

Where many were, but few remain

Of old familiar things;

But seeing them, to mind again

The lost and absent brings.

The friends I left that parting day,

How changed, as time has sped!

Young childhood grown, strong manhood gray,

And half of all are dead.

I hear the loved survivors tell

How nought from death could save,

Till every sound appears a knell,

And every spot a grave.

I range the fields with pensive tread,

And pace the hollow rooms,

And feel (companion of the dead)

I'm living in the tombs.

Well, on that cheery note…

Here’s another take on the subject —

Give a listen to "The House That Built Me" written by Tom Douglas and Allen Shamblin, and recorded by Miranda Lambert.

Dang, that’s a weeper, too.

It’s the “live oak” line that gets me every time.

I've got one of those. Do you?

PROMPT: Now it’s your turn. Create a poem to write home about… featuring the old place that put you together. Weeping and/or singing is optional.

This is Just to Say…

Yes, we're still celebrating National Poetry Month! And that, my friends, is a wonderful thing.

I love to use poetry to jump-start my writing day. Here’s how you can, too:

Step 1) Pick a poem, any poem.

Step 2) Read and enjoy.

Step 3) Rewrite it — your way.

That’s all there is to it.

Today let’s take a look at William Carlos Williams. Remember him? I love to use his poems for this exercise because he wrote of everyday objects cut down to their bare and beautiful bones.

I also love the fact that he was a busy physician who wrote a lot of his poetry on prescription pads.

One of my favorites is “This is Just to Say”. It’s written as if it were a note left on the refrigerator. As I don't want to infringe a copyright, please take a quick click and read it here.

Now that you've read and enjoyed (Step 2), it is time for the Step 3 rewrite...

This is Just to Say

I have eaten

the chocolate

that was hidden

behind the mason jars

and under the matches

and which

you were probably

saving

for some emotional emergency

Please don’t kill me

it was delicious

so smooth

and so sweet

Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to rock and write! But first…

Chocolate!

PROMPT: Try it! 1-2-3 instant poetry! Visual artists can do this, too. Simply paint or sketch whatever your chosen poem brings to mind. Check out Charles Demuth’s
I Saw the Figure 5 in Gold that was inspired by… wait for it… a William Carlos Williams poem! Go figure!

Crow Wisdom

Bliss

The crow does not know

That he is not beautiful

That he cannot sing

There’s a crow in the tree outside my window. He is preening with pride and cawing with conviction. He has Mick Jagger swagger and audacity in spades. He takes one look at the double negatives tucked within my haiku and says, “You got that right, Sugar.”

He knows he is beautiful.

He takes his rightful place in the choir.

And he does not give a biscuit what people think of his art…

Nor should you.

Often when we attempt a creative act, we run smack into fear. Fear that our art will not be good enough. Fear that we are not good enough. Fear of what others may think.

But here’s the rub. That kind of fear isn't real. He’s a man with no fashion sense on a stick in a field — his grubby straw hands just get in the way of what you are meant to do.

And you are meant to do something wonderful.

I know without a doubt that everyone is here to create some amazing something.

How do I know? Place your hand on your chest. Do you feel that thumping? Some folks will try to tell you that that is your heart driving blood through your veins. Yeah, I know all about their theories. I say it’s something different.

I say what you’re feeling is the amazing something inside of you that wants to be created. That special something with the soul of a crow — beating its wings against a cage made of bone. It knows it is beautiful. It knows it can sing… or write… or paint — you name it, it knows. And it does not give a biscuit what you think other people will think if you set it free.

Set it free!

Okay, now I’ll climb down off my soapbox before I break a tibia.

PROMPT: Do it.

Do You Haiku?

Haiku

Black and white and read

These seventeen syllables

Feed my hungry soul

It’s the 17^th day of National Poetry Month, and that can mean only one thing —

It’s National Haiku Poetry Day!

If you've been dragging your lyrical feet and have yet to put your poetic pen to page, then today is the day to clear your conscience. You, too, can Haiku!

Remember long ago when you first learned to print words with those chubby pencils and fat-lined paper? Well, that was probably around the time you wrote your first Haiku. Haiku has always been one of the stones teachers use to kill two Language Arts birds at the same time — poetry and syllables. 

While you may not have kept the little gem you wrote way back then, it most likely went something like this —

Toad

Rude green hoppy thing

Peeing when children catch it

Talking loud in burps

Okay, maybe your first Haiku wasn't like this, but my classmate Richie Richendifer insisted that it followed our teacher’s recipe.

“Describe something in nature,” Miss Henry said. “And remember the 5-7-5 rule. Use 5 syllables for the first line, 7 syllables for the second line, and 5 syllables for the last line, and you will make a great Haiku.”

“Gesundheit!” said Richie Richendifer… for the 87th time that day.

Even if you haven’t wielded a chubby pencil in years, you can follow Miss Henry’s fabulous recipe for your own Haiku stew. And you don’t really have to stick with the nature part. You’re welcome to use your mind’s elbow to 

bend and stretch that rule the way my son once did with this poetic 

offering —

Bad Haiku

Bad poem this is

It is extremely boring

Wait… was that too long?

Yeah.

Nuts never fall far from the tree.

PROMPT: Haiku! Haiku! It’s what we've got to do! Yep, I’m pretty sure that the 7 Dwarfs sang these work song words every April — now you can, too!

Listening to the Color of Bacon

If you’re using April to get your poetry game on, then it’s a good time to talk about those sensuous senses! 

Just for clarification, we’re talking about the five senses — we’ll not be covering the “I see dead people” sense today. Sorry.

Anyway, using vivid descriptions of sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and textures can certainly add to the richness of any writing, but they come in especially handy when smacking down a good poem.

For example, you could have your Kansas wheat dancing in the wind, the sun’s warm kiss upon your cheek, or the prickle of a hedgehog on your tongue. Whatever.

Then you could push it, punch it, and pull it like taffy — take your writing to the place where…

Derek tastes like earwax.

Welcome to the land of Synesthesia!

Synesthesia is a neurological condition in which people experience blended senses. For example, sound and sight may be intermingled such that a person sees colorful fireworks whenever she hears music. 

A great demonstration of synesthesia occurs in the movie Ratatouille when Remy explains flavor combinations to his “muscle your way past the gag reflex” brother Emile. For the foodie rat, flavors evoke fireworks and music. For Emile… not so much.

For some synesthetics, words actually evoke flavor sensations — like the guy in the UK who really does taste earwax whenever he says, hears, or reads the name Derek. For others it’s a smell/sound tangle — like the gentleman who smells bacon whenever he hears the Lord’s Prayer.

Trust me, I am not making this up.

Anyway, you can use the concept of synesthesia to make your writing sensational…

For example, his name could be sweet cinnamon on your tongue, you might move to the melody of the sun all summer long, or her shirt could be sprinkled with the painful language of purple.

So, while synesthesia can be an unfortunate condition, particularly if your best friend’s name is Derek or you salivate like Pavlov’s dog when Our Father arts in heaven, there's no doubt that thinking in synesthetic terms can make your writing…

 smell fabulous!

PROMPT: Make shapes taste funny and colors smell strange. Or get serious and contemplate the pale sound of autumn and the sun’s winter silence. Push the writing envelope today just for fun, just for you — no one else has to see, hear, or taste it. For visual artists — pick a piece of music and paint the melody. Singing bacon is optional.

Bovines and the Bards

Serious poetic potential here — and that’s no bull.

Like everybody else, writers eat up a lot of life experiences — both the sweet clover kind and the nasty weedy ones.

But after all of that experiencing, writers become a lot less like people and a lot more like cows.

Writers love to take their life stuff, wander off to quiet meadows (the places most other folks call offices), and get down to the business of chewing cud. In fact, I'm convinced that the vast majority of writers are introverts simply because no one really wants to chew on regurgitated, partially-digested life experiences in public…

Well, it’s a theory.

Anyway, the awesome result of all this cud chewing is often a product totally unlike the field fodder. And sometimes, if we’re lucky — it can be so wonderfully rich and full of butterfat that it’s basically Häagen-Dazs on the page.

Yep, cows get my vote as the official mascots for Team Writer.

In fact, just hanging around a herd of them can compel even the most unlikely folks to pick up the pen. How else do you explain the entire genre of cowboy poetry?

Clearly those boys are inspired by the moos.

And while we’re celebrating National Poetry Month, you can, too!

So, get on some giddy-up and write yourself a posse of poems about life on the range — even if the only range you've ever known is made by GE.

For a peck of inspiration, ride off to the nearest ranch, or take the city slicker route with this link to Cowboy Bob’s Dictionary.

After you've done the above, here’s a simple test to check whether you’re really ready to pick up the cowpoke pen:

Question: What’s a metaphor?

Answer: Why, fer grazin’ yer cattle, ya greenhorn!

PROMPT: 
Today as yer a-spinnin’
‘round this big ol’ ball o’ mud -
Save yerself a piece o’ time,
Just fer chewin’ up yer cud.

Okay, okay, I’m no poet lariat, but you know what to do.

Blackout!

Do you dread that first page in the morning?

Is its cold white stare creeping you out a bit, or worse —

giving you a certifiable case of tabula-rasa-phobia?

Well, suffer no more, Elbow-Benders!

Start your writing day the blackout way instead.

This method was developed by writer/artist Austin Kleon back when he was struggling with a pretty severe case of writer’s block.

At the time, one thought kept haunting him —

I don’t have any words.

But then he looked into his recycling bin and saw a big pile of newspapers.

Suddenly, a second thought popped into his head —

Right over there are millions of them!

So, Austin picked up a newspaper and pulled out one of his drawing markers. Then he began deleting words while leaving others to just float there on the page. He likens the process to those word search puzzles many of us enjoyed as kids.

So did it cure Austin’s writer’s block?

Let’s see…

Austin Kleon is now a New York Times bestselling author with three illustrated books in print: Newspaper Blackout, Steal Like An Artist, and Show Your Work!

Yeah.

I think he’s cured.

PROMPT:

Step 1: Get yourself a newspaper — you know, one of those quaint periodicals that lets you read yesterday’s news on actual paper.

Step 2: Arm yourself with a black permanent marker.

Step 3: Cross out everything on the page that's not a poem.

Step 4: Submit your poem to newspaperblackout.com and share it with the world! (The site publishes blackout poems from readers all over the planet and has over 125,000 visitors daily!)

Delete on!

Random Acts of Poetry

Dinosaurs, road kill, grumpy basilisk,

Wontons, cherry pie, itchy kitchen whisk,

Orange pants, hula hoops, purple-backed sphinx,

Hopscotch, Frankenstein, bumpy roller rinks.

Cranky Sue, pitch forks, fabulously green,

Fruit cake, super glue, captivated spleen,

Dragon eye, night crawler, sticky candle wax,

Bubble gum, firefly, broken income tax.

Ain't it funny, ain't it cute, ridiculously true —

The whole world finds a way to live inside of you!

Yep, we're continuing our celebration of National Poetry Month with a whole heap of serious foolishness!

I hope that you've been getting your poetry game on each and every day.

But alas, I hear that some folks out there are trapped within the box, cage, and compound of highfalutin poetry.

Is this you?

Well, Cupcake, I am here to set you free!

Any poetry will do — whether it’s a rhymer, no rhymer, sometimes rhymer, or two-timer. Just throw words together and aim for the heart.

And remember —

There's no such thing as bad poetry…

Just bad people

who think

poems stink.

PROMPT: Boy howdy, it's random poetry day! So, dig around in your cupboards, peek under beds, and clean out the kitchen sink (that’s where I found my basilisk) — no doubt, you’ll find words in these places that have all the makings of a good poem. Sure, you can look to the speckled heavens, chuckling brooks, and barefoot meadows, too. It’s up to you. Simply smack some phrases on your pages — just for the JOY of it!