By Dale Favier
1. Read old poetry. We write within a
tradition, whether we know it or not. Know it. If you're going to echo
Shakespeare -- and you are -- then echo Shakespeare himself, not a second-,
third-, or fourth-rate imitation of him.
2. Memorize poetry. I say this all the
time. I'm saying it again. Memorized poetry lives with you, gets under your
skin, in a way that read-and-half-forgotten poetry just never does. And don't
give me that stuff about not being able to memorize things. Memorization is a
skill that anyone can learn.
3. Learn a language, or two, or three. You
don't have to be fluent. You don't even have to be any good at it. Take classes
for a year or two in a language -- preferably, one you just take a shine to and
which will be perfectly useless to you forever -- and get to the point where
you can understand its basic grammar, read its nursery rhymes, and have a
glimpse of what the Germans call its Sprachgefühl,
its "speechfeel."
4. Play. Be silly, maudlin, obscene,
vicious, petty, overwrought, oversimple. If it's bad you can throw it away
later. But write it first, and decide how good it is later. Most of it will be
bad. So what?
What to avoid
1. Advice. Like this.
2. Words that aren't natural to you.
There's a temptation to reach for impressive, rarely-used words, even though
you're not really at home with them. The words you use should be supple and
well-worn, comfortable in your mind and heart. I'm all for learning new words.
But don't use them in poetry right away. That's like marrying someone you met
just last night. You'll regret it. Trust me.
3. Violent, garish imagery, unless it
really does precisely what you want it to. Vivid is good, but only if it's also
accurate. Don't carpet-bomb the reader with gripping images because one of the
incidental effects of one of the images is one that you want. Most readers
don't like random assault. They want to know that if you're seizing their
attention, it's for a good reason.
* * * * *
Dale Favier has taught poetry, chopped vegetables, and written software for a living. Currently he works half-time as a massage therapist and half-time running a database for a non-profit in Portland, Oregon. He is a Buddhist, in the Tibetan tradition. He writes about meditation and poetry, and whatever ever else he may be interested in at the moment, at Mole. He has an M.Phil. in English Literature from Yale, but he never wrote much poetry until he began blogging, a few years ago, and fell in with bad companions. With them he eventually brought out an anthology, Brilliant Coroners. His poems have also appeared in Qarrtsiluni and The Ouroborus Review. His first chapbook, Opening the World, will be coming out next year from Pindrop Press.




