Alliteration and Alliteration (Prompt)

While looking for the definition of alliteration on google I discovered that it is defined as, “the occurrence of the same letter or sound at the beginning of adjacent or closely connected words.” I feel sad that in the definition of alliteration there isn’t much alliteration, but we must move on because that isn’t what this post is about.

Last semester I was inspired to write a poem that had words that only started with the letter A by the first line of Walter Abish’s Alphabetical Africa. I haven’t read the book so I don’t know much about it, but once I read the first line I knew that I had to write a poem like the first line of the book.

So the prompt is to write a poem that has words that only start with the letter you choose. It can be A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z, but each word must start with the same letter. And if you know another language try alliterating in that language–that would be cool to read! And if this is too difficult then maybe each stanza of your poem can have it’s own letter. First stanza could be A words, the second could be B words, etc. It doesn’t have to go in alphabetical order.

Here’s the first line of Walter Abish’s Alphabetical Africa:

“Ages ago, Alex, Allen and Alva arrived at Antibes, and Alva allowing all, allowing anyone, against Alex’s admonition, against Allen’s angry assertion: another African amusement . . . anyhow, as all argued, an awesome African army assembled and arduously advanced against an African anthill, assiduously annihilating ant after ant, and afterward, Alex astonishingly accuses Albert as also accepting Africa’s antipodal ant annexation.”

Here are more first lines to inspire you to write any kind of poetry:

http://americanbookreview.org/100bestlines.asp

Can I Pull Off a William Carlos Williams Impression?

I sometimes am bored. Like I am now, sitting alone in my suite’s lounge, in my underwear waiting to go home in the morning. Roseanne Barn (Barr?) just asked James Corden to help her roll up her spanks.

Anyway, while looking up interviews of poets on Youtube, I came across this lovely interview. It is William Carlos Williams being interviewed on the Mary McBride Show in 1950. The first impression of William Carlos Williams was that that was not the voice that I thought he had. With a name like William Carlos Williams how could I not have expected a man with a deep voice who chews on his cheek as he speaks? I kind of like the way he talks–it feels like Mr. Rogers to me.

In the interview he says that he was born a poet and a critic. I believe that I am the same because whenever I write a line, as soon as I do, I have to fix it. I am always criticizing myself when I write. So my question is were you guys born a poet and a critic like William Carlos Williams? Or were you just born a poet? or a critic? or neither?

 

Here’s the video if you guys want to check it out. It’s great to listen to when you’re by yourself in a dark room.

Fan Fiction Poetry?

I am in love with the show Twin Peaks. Like really in love with it. Ask any of my friends, I dare you, and they’ll tell you that it’s all I talk about. Last semester I wrote a poem that used characters from Twin Peaks.

I wonder if any of you have done the same for your favorite TV show, movie, or book. Have you? Tell me and if you want you can post it here too!

 

OK, background to my poem. Special Agent Dale Cooper is usually calm and collected in the show, so I wondered what he would be like if wasn’t so calm and collected. Diane is an “off show” character that he sends recordings of what he learns of Twin peaks to.

 

Here’s my poem:

The Desperate Recordings of Agent Dale Cooper

Diane,
When are you going
to visit me? “It is
happening again,” he
told me—

How’s the family doing?

Do you know others? Is
that why you won’t visit?

Diane,
“There’s a man…
in a smiling bag,” he
told me—

There are bags under my
eyes. How long
has it been?

DAMN GOOD COFFEE and DAMN
GOOD CHERRY PIE. I’m
tired of it.

Diane,
Please, Diane, Diane—
Why won’t you visit me?
Diane?

Christian Barter’s ‘Poem’

I have this thing for syllables. The first thing I do when I read a poem is count the syllables of each line. I enjoy a poem that has the same amount of syllables in each line. Christian Barter does not do this. What he actually does, and what kept me reading, is that he gives you two lines with thirteen syllables, then he gives you two lines with eleven syllables. Then he gives you a line with eight syllables. Christian Barter sets you up for a pattern, of syllables, and then destroys the pattern and starts a new one. But then he goes back to the original pattern of syllables. The effect that I get from this is a sense of being distracted. The person in the poem wakes up with the hope of writing a poem but seems to get distracted by the radio. The person hears Bernstein’s drifting violin. Am I like the person in the poem? Have I started to hear the syllables like the person has started to hear Bernstein? Because of this the poem starts to become less of a poem and more of an experience with sound and the movement of my lips and tongue.

Who are your favorite poets? From the past or the present

I know this is a hard question to answer, but I think it would be interesting to see everyone’s different opinions.

Do you want to know my favorite poets? I’m not sure–you kind of put me on the spot–but I’ll try to answer your question. I guess I like Langston Hughes for his rhythm. I like Raymond Carver because of his simple language.

Anyway, who are your favorite poets?

 

 

When will poetry die?

Last night I had a discussion with some fellow poets about whether poetry is capable of dying. Poetry has been around us since we, as humans, have been able to speak, so we know that poetry has survived. But is Poetry capable of dying? I thought up a scenario where humans evolve to become sea animals and because we are sea animals we do not have hands, but fins. We lose what is the most important tool to a writer; opposable thumbs. Will poetry be dead then, if we can’t write it? “No,” as one of the fellow poets said, “because we will come up with a way to use our fins and we will write with whatever material we can get.” So then I came up with another scenario where all humans die of a sudden natural disaster. In this scenario we all die but all works of literature ever written is kept in an indestructible box that can only be opened by putting in the code “0000.” What if the giraffe evolves to create its on language–a language that is not at all similar to ours–and it finds our literature, but isn’t able to understand it? Is poetry dead then? There are two ways one can see this scenario. Either poetry is dead, or it is alive in a different species. For example, we are dead, but maybe because of our deaths the giraffes will create their own poetry based on how we died–the same way that we write about dinosaurs or any other extinct species. And maybe the giraffes have their own kind of poetry, so poetry is alive in their species.

So, my question is, will poetry ever die? I’ve been having an existential crisis, if you can’t tell.

 

db pena

Someday My Prince Will Come And Rub Ointment On My Gills Because I’m Itchy

Dear Friends,

I’ve been listening to Bill Evan’s “Someday My Prince Will Come.” The overall feel and mood of the song makes me want to write something. I’ve been jotting a few things down and so far the only line that makes sense is, “someday my prince will come and rub ointment on my gills because I’m itchy.”

I usually am inspired by music. Sometimes, I’m inspired by the things that I see outside. Most of the time, I’m inspired by something I have read or have heard. I’ve never been inspired by a painting. I don’t think I’ve been inspired by a dance.

What inspires you to write poetry? Or what has inspired you to write a poem? A song? A family member? A planet? Tell me. I’m bored. It’s 4AM on 4/20/2015 and I have no idea why I’m still up.

yours,

db pena

Sound. Sound? Sound! Sound?! SOUND?!

With my hearing being not as good as when I was a younger man, I think about sound in poetry. I believe that sound is one of the most important things in poetry, if not the most important thing. Whenever I hear more than one S in a line, or more than one T, or ST next to TS, the sounds just start to dance back and forth in my mind. Sometimes they waltz and sometimes they break dance. Why is sound important? Because with sound you can create tension or you can create relief. Take the alliterative statement, “Charlie chased the chairs away,” as an example. There is tension in the statement itself, but the CHs create even bigger tension because of their quick and hard, almost crunchy, sound. To me the CHs sound like a fork being scraped against the E-string of an upright bass, but to others the CHs might sound like a wedding dress gliding against a glass coffee table. This is something else that I love about sound; the fact that a sound can have more than one meaning. Can you believe that? How can a sound have more than one meaning? It’s just sound. Sound is more than sound. Sound is an emotion, or various emotions. Sound is a scream, or a SCREAM. Sound is sound, or no sound. Just imagining what one can do with sound is overwhelming.

Music also uses sound, duh. Music can be fast, or slow. Loud, or quiet. Hard, or soft. But what happens when music and poetry are combined, specifically Jazz music and poetry? Whenever I think of poetry with music I think of the dog and cat that wore all black and performed poetry(?) on Pee Wee’s Playhouse. What do you guys think of poetry being accompanied by music, or music being accompanied by poetry?

I’ve attached Langston Hughes performing “The Weary Blues” to a Jazz accompaniment because it illustrates the power that combining poetry with music can have. Whenever Hughes pauses, the music continues. Whenever the music pauses, Hughes continues. And the calming tone of the Jazz juxtaposed against the content of the poem creates a feeling in me that I can’t explain.

 

Free Pluto,

db pena

Contradictions

Search for the definition of the word “contradiction” on Google and it is defined as “a combination of statements, ideas, or features of a situation that are opposed to one another.” I believe that contradictions are important to poetry because contradictions can sometimes reveal something greater than the contradiction.

Here’s a prompt: Write a poem that contradicts itself. Maybe the title contradicts the poem or vice versa. Maybe each line contradicts a previous line. Maybe an idea in the poem contradicts another. Try to reveal something important with the contradictions.

Share it here, if you want. Share it with your pet giraffe. Share it with your David Lynch Film Club. Share it with fellow Pluto Supporters–it’s a planet, how dare you tell me it’s not! Or don’t share it at all–that’s cool too.