Showing posts with label editing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label editing. Show all posts

Finding treasure in the slow hours

Posted by Unknown | Posted in , , , , , , , , , , | Posted on Wednesday, July 11, 2012

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Work days have been slow. Excruciatingly so. I've found myself reading random snippets of news. Searching unknown poets. Researching odd topics. Today, I found myself reading children's stories from an old book on Google books.

I've never got into "creating" found poetry. To me, found poetry just seems to be the art of extreme editing rather than writing. Chopping away every ounce of fat from the words of previous writers to boil down the story into a pure, concise form. For this, though, it seems useful. One thing I've always had trouble with, and I'm sure most writers do, is knowing when to cut the fat from your work. Our words are our children and butchering them is never easy.

Below are a few "found" poems from the day's boredom.



Wolf and Lamb

Wolf lapping
running brook,
stray Lamb
paddling
distance
down

seize her,
he bethought
how he
might justify
violence

“Villian,”
said he.
“you muddle
water”

Lamb,
humbly,
water runs
from you
to me

“you called me
ill names”

trembling,
a year ago,
I was not
born

“that is all
the same;
it's no use
to argue”

he fell upon
helpless Lamb
tore her
to pieces

Two Packs

every man
carries
two packs

one in front,
one behind
full of faults

front holds
people's faults

behind,
his own

men do not see
their own

but very clearly
the faults
of others
Lion in Love

Lion in love
with Woodman's
daughter,
wanted to marry

begged him
to give
the maid

Woodman could
not think
of such a thing

Lion roar furiously,
and father, in great fright,
bethought a way

I cannot give
my daughter
unless you first
have your teeth
& nails drawn

desperately
in love,
he consented

when it was
all over, asked again
for the girl

Woodman, no
longer any fear,
drove him off
with jeers


****

Each of these were extracted from stories in an 1881 printing of The Children's Book: A Collection of the Best and Most Famous Stories and Poems. I found it here on Google books. I'm not sure how often I'd venture into the "found" poetry practice, but it helped to pass some time and make me consider editing and word choice.

I'd suggest trying it if you're a writer. You may find it helpful or, at the very least, entertaining. Share some found poetry in the comments section if you'd like. See what you can come up with.


...

New words and slide blues

Posted by Unknown | Posted in , , , , , , , , , , , , | Posted on Saturday, June 23, 2012

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There's been an absence of words here, but they're spilling out all over my desk. The floor. Pages and scraps of paper. I've begun work on a poetry manuscript. I've been revising old work and starting new. The season is new. The weather is new. My energy and mind are refreshed.

Busy days. Incredible nights. Weekends are always full of something. This weekend, Prose in Pubs swings back around to Jack's Draft House in Scranton on Sunday. Open mic. The first time it has gone non-invitation. It should be an interesting lineup. I'll be reading some new work. Stop on by.


The manuscript is coming along slowly but surely. It will be some time before I have a rough draft completed and probably some time after that until it is finalized and ready to send out. Then I'll find out that it is not yet finalized. Edit, submit, edit, submit. These are the hurdles of writing.

I've picked up my guitar again. Bought a glass slide to try and mimic Bukka White. It's coming along even slower than the manuscript, but it's a release of energy and creativity. It's needed when I cannot form the words. What better way to clear the mind by making music. Or noise. Sometimes I just like to strum and croon along with the old blues masters.

I've been tumbling some ideas for blog entries around my mind, so bare with me. Be patient. Not that you've been sitting on the edge of your seat waiting in anticipation for me. Maybe you have. I'd like to think you have.

Time to fill the apartment with music and the scent of whatever I feel like cooking. Until next time...