When I first started to write poetry, I pictured it as capturing a flash in a moment, one snapshot. Not to say this is never the case, but I’m learning that if you want to show your readers a log cabin, how you let readers arrive at the scene plays a role in letting the readers find their way, that they can linger in a sentence, or speed along quickly enjoying the momentum of the piece, that the poem doesn’t have to be standstill; there is a journey in reading along.
My command of sound is more tied to the visuals of the poem, such as how I prefer shorter lines look on a page with my poems surrounded by plenty of white space. I often keep my poetry terse and as close to the point as I can, and I try to root out unnecessary words, so my lines are typically shorter than average. While this tends to make my poetry read more slowly, as the pacing is heavier on each word I choose to keep in the poem, it is often unintentional. When I do read through lines of my poetry my mind is more concerned with how the individual words carry meaning and how they can best be expressed through insights in the poem’s line and how it captures a snapshot I think with my work I am often trying to express a moment in time and I try to carry the readers to that rather than considering the reading itself as the real experience. When I envision what I am writing about, it is so vivid to me that I do not consider the reader’s experience or question the gaps between reasoning in my poetry. I write from a snapshot perspective. Due to this, I tend to use more abstract terms in my writing, assuming that everyone is holding on to the same visual that I am.
I’ve never been on such a level of my work where I consider the impact of word combinations but I am eager to start my journey with sound. I look forward to learning how to surround my reader with my words in a way that they take their time through the piece, that my readers may not just see what I’ve fleshed out, but they can breathe in it as well.
Hey Danielle, I feel you on the “cut as many words as possible” mentality. When I was a freshman, the older poets in Creative Writing Club (C-Dubz) taught me to cut cut cut until I had a super tight poem. I rigidly stick to that rule. But not that we’re focusing on sound, we have to be open to “extra” words if they will make the poem sound “better” (which I suppose means to expand the interpretative opportunities when processed aurally).
Regarding images, my C-Dubz friends taught me that the images have to work together, to provide meaning when put together. That made me hyper-aware of the visual aspect of poetry, like you. It’s also so vivid to me. Interestingly, though, when I’ve had some of my poems workshopped at C-Dubz, the other members glean different, yet equally vivid, images from my work. I don’t know about you, but I just go with it. If they find any meaning at all in my work, I’m satisfied even if it’s not what I meant to convey. I’m only concerned when my peers are profoundly off-track. That means I did something wrong.