The simplest definition of a poet is one who writes verse, but a more restrictive view holds that the poet possesses certain qualities to a greater degree than most humans, imagination primarily, tempered by sensitivity to experience and the ability to condense and express experience beautifully.  Another important quality is a certain modesty which focuses attention on the act of writing and the beautiful product rather than on the writer.  The Japanese believe that claiming to be a poet is bad manners.  These same characteristics apply to all writers, but historically poets have held a special role in society.

The Greeks and Romans thought that poets were beloved of the gods and filled with divine spirit or divine madness.  Poets aroused the same sort of awe as oracles.  Later, worship of poets as godlike gave way to an understanding of the poet as not exactly divine, but rather more sensitive than other humans.  In 1849, William Wordsworth listed the qualities of a poet:  liking similarities, able to remember feelings, able to assume other personas, possessing power of expression, comfortable with reality, serious about poetry, interested in bringing sensation to life, holding feelings inside, knowing the language of the people.  In Wordsworth's view, the primary quality necessary to a poet is imagination, the ability to think and write in images.

At about the same time, other writers saw the poet as a mirror of mankind, reflecting life in art, conscious both of beauty and the reasons for that beauty.  Percy Bysshe Shelley believed that although a poet cannot claim the gift of prophecy, poetry itself represents a participation in eternal truths.  "A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds," Shelley wrote.  His type of poet, sensitive to an extraordinary degree, pursued pleasure and embodied the finest virtues of humankind.

Soon afterward, the poet took on the role of maker of new language and ideas, and John Ruskin introduced an indicator of quality when he relegated to second rank status self-indulgent poets who used figures of speech carelessly.  T. S. Eliot viewed the poet as a person more able than most to experience new combinations of feelings, viewing the poet's mind as a bank of emotions and images which mingle and unite to be withdrawn in new combinations.  Wallace Stevens, like Wordsworth, made a list of the qualities of a poet, including work which lasts 2000 years, wonder at how previous poets bring dead things to life, a good sense of how to balance reality and abstraction, an awareness of his or her own lack of nobility, and the ability to resist pressure of reality.

During the Romantic Period, writers defined poetry as an outpouring of feelings, a gush of emotion designed to impart pleasure rather than knowledge.  In 1818, John Keats wrote that poetry "should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts and appear almost as a remembrance" and compared a poem to the sun which rises, shines, then sets magnificently.  He believed that the poet recognizes the approach of a poem, which comes "as naturally as leaves to a tree".  Shelley defined poetry as a "mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted", a neatening-up of imperfect reality.

Edgar Allan Poe, referred to derisively as the jingle-jangle man by some American literary critics, has always been well-loved in France for the music of his poetry.  He expressed the American Romantic view of valuing poetry in proportion to how much the poem excites and elevates the audience's emotions, an idea refuted in 1941 by Allen Tate, who clarified pleasure as a response to poetry rather than as a definition.

Summarizing the qualities of poetry produces a list quite similar to the list of characteristics of a poet.  The paramount quality is imagination, but a poem must also have meaning, sensory images, concrete language, and form which complements content.  The poet, guided by a sense of unity, molds sounds and words and lines to give the reader both intellectual and aesthetic pleasure.  The true poem produces a sigh, a rueful nod of agreement, a smile of recognition, and a sense that the reader knew it all along.  Perhaps William Shakespeare described poetry best in his play The Tempest, when he wrote the lines in Example 7.1.

                          As imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

One important tool for the poet is a knowledge of what previous poets have done, an understanding of how literature evolved through recorded history.  Beginning writers sometimes argue that knowledge of literature forces them to shape their work in the forms of the past.  This belief is false.  You cannot be sure that your writing is truly new and wholly imaginative unless you have a sense of the origins and development of poetry as a genre.  Karl Marx warned that those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it.  Read poetry whenever you have a moment to spare.  Go to the library, take out a book of the poems of Ovid or Shakespeare or Wordsworth or Emily Dickinson or Denise Levertov or Robert Bly.  Read the poems aloud slowly, thinking about how the writer uses words and images and lines and sounds to create feelings in you.

Then look into your own heart and into the hearts of the people around you.  What moments have been most emotionally moving to you?  Write journal entries which focus on sensory images you remember from times of intense emotion.  Emphasize the concrete details of the experience rather than the name of the emotion, centering on showing rather than telling.  Use images to create feelings in the reader, giving an experience of emotion rather than an abstraction.  Most important, write about a particular event or moment which led to a deep feeling, but ignore the feeling itself.

Once you can list sensory images surrounding a moment of feeling, plunge into your list and thrash about.  Remember that poetry is images, not abstractions.  Push yourself to use concrete words which describe reality, to be particular rather than general.  On paper and in your head, play with images and words and lines and sounds.  Rewrite for perfection and economy of expression.  Turn your lines upside down and inside out just to see what happens, always striving for unity of content and form.  Example 7.2 shows how one poet played with images.

First Draft
freewriting

Gold leaves scattered against the neighbor's green lawn
Out to get wood from the stack patio bricks cold on feet
Rough aspen splits, gray-barked in hands, smoke in air
Generous use of senses in change of seasons
full moon follows curved path a paler sun
the sun's lower arc chills our hemisphere
mountain maples got red this week
local hard frost predicted by the weatherman
darker mornings and evenings, coyote twilight
sage grouse scattered so much summer rain
they don't cluster at the watering places of dryer years
when hunters got limit or none, fifty or a hundred birds
taking wing at once.  Weeds dry their seeds for winter.

Second Draft
lines rearranged up from the bottom

Weeds dry their seeds for winter.
Fifty or a hundred birds take wing at once
watering places of dryer years
when hunters got limit or none
sage grouse scattered too much summer rain
now coyote twilight, darker mornings and evenings
the weatherman chills our hemisphere
mountain maples red this week, local hard frost
the pale sun's lower arch follows a full moon.
Out to the woodstack, patio bricks cold on bare feet
gray-barked aspen splits rough in hands, smoke in air
gold leaves fall to litter the green lawn

Third Draft
beginnings and ends of lines combined

Gold leaves scattered, out to get wood
rough aspen splits, full moon on curved path
sun's lower arc, mountain maples red
hard frost mornings and evenings
weeds dry their seeds for winter
coyote twilight the weatherman predicted
chills our hemisphere a paler sun
smoke in the air, patio bricks cold on feet.

Fourth Draft
pick and choose the best images

Full moon curves on the sun's lower arc
mountain maples red this week hard frost
chills our hemisphere, coyote twilight
darker mornings and evenings scatter
gold leaves against the green lawn.
The fire burns to glowing coals.
Out to the woodpile, patio bricks
cold on feet, autumn like smoke in the air.

As you work and rework your starting images, choose the single best word to describe each detail.  When you first begin a poem, aim for words which are pretty close to what you mean, and then in rewriting seek exactness by changing words and condensing several words into one.  Concentrate on nouns and verbs, avoiding adjectives and adverbs when possible, so that your vocabulary grows richer and deeper.  Consider the difference between "fifty or a hundred birds take wing at once" and "a lot of birds fly up" in Example 7.2.  One brings to life the image of a flock of sage grouse flushing all at once, but the other is so vague and general that the reader doesn't see a picture.

Example 7.3 shows how Greg Scott McCormick changed words to make his poem "Dancing Lessons" more exact and beautiful.

First Draft

Once,
   with the key you gave me.
I quietly snuck into
your dark apartment
one winter evening.

There were you,
   unseeing,
      unnoticing,
gliding across the cold hard tile
to the soft music coming through the paper-thin walls

I stood there in the corner
out of your view.
Big yellow friend in the window
always there on such nights,
giving your aura that glow of the night.

Revision

With that shiny brass key you gave me,
I quietly snuck into your dark apartment
one winter evening.

Watched you,
gliding across the kitchen floor
soft music coming through paper-thin walls.
Hid there in the nocturnal corner.
Out of view of your reverie,
     your ecstasy.

I soaked in your steps,
like some eruditing child
afraid to let go of this vision.

Big yellow friend peering through
the window:
man on the moon smiled,
giving your aura that night look:
Blue-black sky filled with stars.

Not expecting visitors,
undressed for the occasion,
you smiled at your awkward performance.

Notice the repetition in the first draft: once, one, night.  Greg got rid of "unseeing, unnoticing" and substituted a more exact "the kitchen floor" for the "cold hard tile" of the first version.  In response to his workshop group's comments about the "big yellow friend", Greg added a line to clarify that this figure is the full moon and not the narrator of the poem.  The changes strengthened this poem a great deal.

Don't waste the beginnings and endings of your lines on articles and other meaningless little words.  The first and last words of a line give the most impact.  Example 7.4 demonstrates what happens when a poet doesn't pay attention to line breaks.

The gold leaves spiral down
the sun's lower arc chills them
the mountain maples are
a red which looks very bright
when hunters get limit or
don't have a lot of birds around.

These lines die on the page because their beginnings and endings lack interest and emphasis.  What determines where a particular line ends?  The content of the poem, what needs to be stressed or de-emphasized, should be the first clue.  Because the beginnings and endings of lines make the biggest impression on the reader, use important words, strong nouns and active verbs, in these positions whenever possible.

Pauses and punctuation accentuate the words which come before and after.  For instance, a line break adds emphasis to the word at the end of the line as well as the word at the beginning of the next line.  Punctuation also increases emphasis, as shown in Example 7.5 below.  The lines in this example are from "Why We Go to the Desert."

Caesura, a pause or break within a line marked by punctuation, allows the writer to stress rhythm and ideas visually, accentuating ideas by making the reader stop and think for a moment.  Poets should think carefully about why a particular piece of punctuation is being used.  Punctuation must enhance meaning; otherwise, the writer should change or eliminate the offending mark.

Rhythm, the repetition of stress or lack of stress, helps humans build order and structure.  Pick up a pen and tap rhythmically on this page.  When your rhythm steadies, count the beats for one minute.  Most likely, you'll be tapping at about 80 to 100 beats per minute because this is the natural rhythm of the human body.  A fetus in the womb grows with the rhythm of its mother's heart, and as a result the alternation of sameness and variety in the rhythms of poetry and music attracts readers in a primitive and powerful way.

The number of syllables in a line and the amount of stress on each of those syllables sets up a particular rhythmic structure.  In Figure 7.6, a slow galloping rhythm accentuates the western subject of the poem.

Desert Song #1
The Rider

You rode out of town on the smell of sagebrush
into the hills with the first evening star
your eyes the gray color of sparrow wings
like some wild cowboy on your bronco.
Afternoon sun shines behind drawn blinds
an evening of primrose will bloom
desert hills green from thunderstorms
while a woman waits, dry without tears.
She remembers redwing blackbird mornings
midnights of brandy and so many Idaho stars
twenty kinds of wildflowers you picked
the sego lilies and Indian paintbrush.
September ahead, April with a change
two-step of mountain and cloud begins
the woman's heart, a grasshopper leaps
August turns your appaloosa toward home.

Practice using rhythm as you would any other writing technique.  Play with experimental, throw-away lines until you know how to use many varieties of rhythm to enrich your poems.

Together, rhythm and sound form the music of poetry.  Many people think of poetic use of sound only in terms of rhyme, but sound has many other expressions, including alliteration, assonance, and consonance.  Rhyme can be employed in regular patterns as well as in subtle and unusual ways, such as beginning rhyme and internal rhyme.  True rhyme, like any poetic device, enhances poetry when skillfully used, but too often, readers and writers mistake any verse which rhymes for poetry.

Alliteration is the repetition of initial consonant sounds or any vowel sounds.  Although alliteration draws attention to groups of words, too much leads to silliness.  If you enjoy alliteration, watch carefully to make sure that you don't slip over the edge into the dreaded Slough of Silliness, filled with consonants and vowels which will suck you under like quicksand.  In alliteration, as in so many aspects of life, less is often more.

1.   just enough -- Bare backs of mountains humped black
2.   way too much -- Pretty pink posies perched perky on a porch

True rhyme requires identical final vowels and consonants, but this last syllable must be preceded by different consonants, as in gain/rain/train/sane.  Note that sound is more important than spelling:  if the vowels sound alike even though they are spelled differently, they still count as a match.  However, exact spelling sameness does not qualify as true rhyme.  For instance, meet/meet is an example of identities, not of true rhyme, because the consonants and vowels are all the same.  Meet and greet are true rhymes:  different initial consonants (m and gr) followed by identical vowels (ee) and consonants (t).

Rhyme can be a powerful tool of form in the hands of a skilled poet.  The first poems were sung, and rhymes helped those early poets remember their lengthy songs.  Example 7.10 illustrates the different types of sound correspondences.

Rhyme at the ends of lines is called end rhyme.  Poets who begin to use rhyme within lines (internal rhyme) and at the beginnings of lines (beginning rhyme) explore the use of rich alternative possibilities.  As with any literary device, rhyme accentuates meaning when skillfully done, and draws attention to itself rather when overused.  Rhyme should never jump out and grab the unsuspecting reader by the throat, nor should it lull the audience to sleep.  Instead, rhyme should subtly and pleasurably enhance meaning.

Both writers and readers keep track of rhymes by marking them alphabetically.  The first rhyme type is a, the second b, the third c, and so forth.  A regular pattern of rhyme should alert the reader to the possible use of a conventional form, such as the sonnet.  The Shakespearean sonnet is an excellent example of the correspondence between form and content.  This type of sonnet, always arranged in iambic pentameter, consists of three quatrains (four-line stanzas) followed by a final couplet (two-line stanza).  Each quatrain focuses on one image, and the final couplet ties together the three separate images explored in the quatrains.  The rhyme scheme is abab cdcd efef gg, with the rhymes both separating and uniting the sections.

As you read through William Shakespeare's "That Time of Year Thou Mayst in Me Behold," notice the use of iambic pentameter lines and the subtle way rhyme unites the lines.  Which lines are enjambed and which are end-stopped?  Do you see any examples of caesura?  Look for images of autumn, twilight, and a dying fire which function as metaphors for old age.  How does the final couplet pull together the three distinct images contained in the quatrains?

That time of year thou mayst in me behold a
when yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang b
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold a
Bare ruin'd choirs where late the sweet birds sang. b
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day c
As after sunset fadeth in the west; d
Which by and by black night doth take away c
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. d
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire e
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, f
As the death-bed whereon it must expire, e
Consumed with that which it was nourished by. f
  This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, g
  To love that well which thou must leave ere long. g

Stanzas, groupings of two or more lines with recurring rhythm and sometimes rhyme schemes, often clump together into larger forms.  Commonly used stanzas include the couplet (two lines) and the quatrain (four lines)  Some poetic forms require stanzas of a certain shape and size, but organic or free-verse poems often use stanzas based on patterns of thought.  Thus, a new stanza in a poem often signals a change from one idea to another.  In free verse, any grouping of lines with space between is referred to as a stanza.

Although conventional forms offer the experienced poet the challenge of working within difficult rules, they often cause problems for the beginning writer.  Rhyme is a product the Latin-based Romantic languages of Europe, which offer almost unlimited possibilities for rhyme.  English, however, is a rhyme-poor language.  Most rhymes in English have been used and reused until they have become clichés.  Locking into a conventional form prevents the writer from experimenting with language, and leads to dreadful verse like "A Trip to Seattle" in Chapter Six.  On the positive side, writers who play with sound and shape learn to use these devices.  Experiment, but do not feel bound to work only within the rules of conventional forms.

One ancient form which beginning writers can use with great skill is the haiku, a Japanese poem which utilizes syllable counting instead of rhyme and meter.  Three lines are arranged in a pattern of 5/7/5 syllables for a total of seventeen, although some haiku differ a bit from this basic structure.

Soft rain is falling.
Carrying a piece of string
wet robin flies home.

Usually haiku unite or compare two images of nature, and some vary from the standard syllable arrangement.  In Example 7.13, rain is one natural image and the robin building a home despite the rain is the second.  An excellent form for the beginning poet, haiku requires close attention to the one best word, as well as the use of vivid concrete images.  Experiment by writing several haiku about similar ideas and combining these short poems into a longer piece.

Free verse begins not with a regular scheme of rhyme and rhythm, but with an idea which then shapes the form.  The unit of free verse is the line, not the foot as in conventional verse.  Much of the poetry being written today is free verse.  However, free verse utilizes rhythm and sound just as often as conventional forms;  the difference is that in conventional works the poet begins with the framework and bends ideas to fit the chosen shape.  Free verse, on the other hand, begins with ideas and bends the form to fit the content.

Most contemporary poems focus on a brief moment of great beauty or deep understanding, but the words on the page describe sensory images, the sights, sounds, touches, smells and tastes of the moment, rather than the feelings aroused by those experiences.  The goal is to recreate the experience in the mind of the reader, which then allows the reader to experience the feeling first-hand.  Real people and settings and events are the best sources of ideas for poems.

The heart of poetry is the trope, a figure of speech which leads to a change of sense and a deeper level of understanding.  Commonly used tropes include simile, metaphor, irony and paradox.  A simile is an explicit comparison which uses like or as, while a metaphor makes the same type of connection indirectly.  Both compare things which are essentially different
by finding one similar aspect shared by both things.  Often this is done by giving the first thing, in Example 7.14 the beloved, a quality belonging to the second, the beauty and fragrance of the rose.

Simile:  My love is like a red, red rose.
Metaphor:  My love is a red rose.

Most clichés began as strong and beautiful expressions, but over time, lost their impact because people began to take them for granted.  Avoid clichés in favor of vivid, fresh figures of speech.  If you have ever heard a saying before, most likely it is a cliché.  For instance, complete these sentences with the first words which come to mind, then try to think of a unique and fresh comparison.

Mixed metaphor often grows out of cliché' phrases.  Because the phrases have so little meaning, writers sometimes string them together without attention to the whole, leading to complex and unintentionally humorous passages.  As you read Example 7.15, think of the ideas quite literally, depths and heights, doors yawning, and so on.

The depths of despair and the heights of ambition are found even in the hallowed halls of academe.  Doors of opportunity yawn open, gobbling up the brave soldiers of education, those who march forward into the rosy dawn of the future.  Keeping to the straight and narrow, with the understanding that what goes around comes around, such powerful figures of leadership shine a lamp of knowledge into the darkness of the unwashed multitudes.

Irony and paradox get reader attention because at first they seem impossible.  Irony usually involves saying one thing and meaning another.  For instance, if you went camping and spent the weekend huddled in a tent in the rain, wet and cold and miserable, you might tell a friend that your trip was, "Great, really great.  Loved every minute of it."  From the contrast between your description of the trip and your tone of voice, the listener recognizes irony.  Paradox operates in a similar fashion by pointing out a contradiction which is nevertheless true.  Oxymoron, created by combining incongruous terms, is a form of paradox.  Comedian George Carlin used oxymoron when he pointed humorous paradoxes we take for granted, including jumbo shrimp (Can they be both huge and tiny?) and military intelligence.

Figures of speech may exist discretely as a small part of a poem, but may also form an extended metaphor or controlling comparison.  When this happens, the comparison is carried throughout the poem, and each image relates back to the main metaphor.  In "Mason Jar Poetry", the controlling metaphor of song ties the poem together.  Each comparison uses some aspect of music.

      Mason Jar Poetry
Applesauce has its own melody
on January mornings
it whispers of softening snow
and sap pushed by meltwater
under bark tight with winter.
Applesauce hums of blossoms
a counterpoint of sour green
sings of transparent afternoons
and stillness before dawn.
Murmuring of bushel baskets
paring knives and thick boiling
cinnamon, rows of brown jars,
a choir on a sunny windowsill.

         Mason Jar Dizziness
  Applesauce has its own melody
  on January mornings
  it dances to the tune of softening snow
  and sap skied by meltwater
  under bark tight with winter.
  Applesauce swims in a sea of blossoms
  and bicycles through transparent afternoons.

The goal of all poetry is to engage and delight the reader, to cause strong feelings through the use of specific images.  Although feeling is the goal of poetry, sentimentality, cuteness, and gushiness should be avoided.  Restraint and good taste produce strong poetry, while looseness and lack of care lead to tacky verse.  Everything in the poem should contribute to the unity of the whole:  words, images, lines, rhythm, sound, form, and figures of speech.  Experience the world anew, in the ways unique to you, and then preserve your learning in poetry to share with others.

1.  How did the ancients view poets?  How did that view change over time?
2.  What are the qualities of poetry?
3.  Why is a knowledge of literature important for the poet?
4.  Define word play.  Using a few lines from your own writing, engage in word play.
5.  Why should you aim for the single best word?
6.  Write a good strong line, then rearrange the words, adding some if necessary, to change the good line into a weak one.
7.  List the four types of line breaks and give an example of each.
8.  Define rhythm.  What two characteristics set up a rhythmic structure?
9.  What do poets mean when they talk about meter?  Describe the six common stress patterns and give a one-foot example of each.
10.  How do metric feet and lines interact?  What names do poets use to talk about these line types?
12.  Define alliteration, assonance, consonance, and true rhyme.  Write an example of each type of rhyme.
13.  Why must poets use sound carefully?  What happens if they do not?
14.  Although most people think rhyme goes at the end of lines, poets often use rhyme in more subtle ways.  Name some of these ways, and give an example of at least one.
15.  How do images affect the structure of a poem?  Give an example.
16.  Define the term stanza.
17.  List some drawbacks and benefits of using conventional poetic forms.
18.  What is free verse?
19.  Compare and contrast simile and metaphor.  Give an example of each.
20.  Why is mixed metaphor a dangerous flaw?
21.  Write a poem which uses an extended metaphor to shape the content.

List a series of abstract human qualities or experiences.  You might include words such as love, generosity, heartache, triumph, hate.  Choose one as the subject of your meditation.

In the same way as before, get comfortable, close your eyes, take a deep breath and relax.  Keep breathing deeply and slowly, and when you feel ready, bring to mind the abstraction you chose earlier.  Imagine the word as glowing letters on a dark screen, like a movie title.

Now begin to think of specific incidents which illustrate that word.  What moments of life come to mind?  Choose one of these times and pay close attention to the sensory images which constitute this instant.  Let your imagination linger over the sights, sounds, touches, smells, and tastes.

When you feel ready, take a deep breath, open your eyes, and pick up your journal.  Jot down the images which came to mind during your meditation.  If you wish, develop these images into a poem.  Be careful to leave out the abstract word itself.  Instead, show the audience the idea you want to express.

Do you have a junk drawer at your house, the drawer where everyone puts those odds and ends:  nails, screws, string, rubber bands, broken eyeglasses, hairbows, old batteries, leaky squirt guns, wedding invitations, everything you don't need right now but might some day?

Put your journal and a pen on the countertop, then open your junk drawer and look inside.  What do you see?  Take out the objects, one by one.  When something seems interesting, jot down a few notes describing the object and the associated memories.  Stop when you have two or three pages of notes.

Now go through your notes and choose one object.  Do a freewrite for about twenty minutes on that item and its place in your life.  Revise this freewrite into a poem, letting form emerge from the content.  Remember, show don't tell:  use vivid, concrete, detailed images, and avoid vague generalizations.