August 22, 2010

A Poetry Newsletter

In addition to her Blogalicious poetry blog, poet Diane Lockward is now doing a free monthly poetry newsletter.

The first one offered a poem and a prompt, useful links (journals that read during the summer and print journals that accept online submissions), a book recommendation (The Working Poet: 75 Writing Exercises and a Poetry Anthology, edited by Scott Minar). There was also Molly Fisk's Poem-A-Day project for August.

You can can sign up for her newsletter at her blog.

Diane's own books of poetry are Eve's Red Dress, What Feeds Us and her newest collection, Temptation by Water.

Temptation by Water What Feeds Us Eve's Red Dress

August 9, 2010

Prompt: Imagism and Ezra Pound

Pound

Though Ezra Pound is generally considered the poet most responsible for defining and promoting a modernist aesthetic in poetry, his views and politics were controversial during his lifetime and still now.

In the early days of the 20th century, he created an exchange of ideas between British and American writers. He helped promote the writing and influenced contemporaries such as W. B. Yeats, Robert Frost, William Carlos Williams, Marianne Moore, H. D., James Joyce, Ernest Hemingway, and T. S. Eliot.

In his dedication for his poem "The Waste Land," T. S. Eliot called Pound "il miglior fabbro" (the better craftsman), which was Dante's term for the Troubadour poet Arnaut Daniel.

Pound promoted Imagism, a movement in poetry that was heavily influenced by classical Chinese and Japanese poetry.

Imagism stressed clarity, precision, and economy of language. It did not encourage the use of traditional rhyme and meter.

The Imagists rejected the styles of much Romantic and Victorian poetry exemplified by Longfellow and Tennyson who were popular at the time.

Imagism's focus on "the thing" as thing" was the attempt at isolating a single image to reveal its essence. This idea was also popular in avant-garde art at the time, especially Cubism.

In Poetry magazine, Pound described "A Few Don'ts by an Imagiste" and an essay entitled "Imagisme" that gave this advice:

1. Direct treatment of the "thing", whether subjective or objective.
2. To use absolutely no word that does not contribute to the presentation.
3. As regarding rhythm: to compose in sequence of the musical phrase, not in sequence of the metronome.

The first poem by him I encountered as a student is the often-anthologized, haiku-like

In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

I really liked that short poem, though I couldn't say very much about it. (Read what Mark Doty said about the poem in a workshop.)

It was much later that I later encountered his poem "Taking Leave of a Friend" which I used this month as a model for our writing prompt.

A contemporary poet, William Carlos Williams received his M.D. from the University of Pennsylvania, where he met and befriended Ezra Pound. Pound became a great influence in Williams' writing. In 1913, Pound arranged for the London publication of Williams's second collection, The Tempers.

You can see Pound's influence in some of Williams' most famous short poems such as "The Red Wheelbarrow"-
so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

and the poem

and his poem "This Is Just To Say."

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Our writing prompt for July is a poem in Pound's imagist style. By that I mean a poem that is (probably) short, stripped of excessive language, directly treating a "thing" (subjective or objective), without traditional rhyme or meter but perhaps with rhythm (as in a musical phrase), and focuses on one single image.

If you look at some of the other Selected Poems of Ezra Pound you will find that he departed from Imagism in his own poetry later, as in The Cantos, which occupied his literary attention in the last part of his life.


Literary Essays of Ezra Pound
A Companion to The Cantos of Ezra Pound


July 14, 2010

Help Salt Publishing

Economic times are tough. These are even tougher times for traditional publishers. And for publishers of poetry...



Here's a letter from Chris at Salt Publishing asking for your help, and it can be as simple as buying one of their books of poetry.

I hoped I'd never have to write this note. The recession has continued to have a very negative impact on sales at Salt and we're finally having to go public to ask you to help support us.

Our sales are now 60%... down on last year and have wiped out our grant and our cash reserves as we continue to market and publish what we can from what we believe is a great list. We've plans in place to help secure the business from November 2010 — though the books we'll be publishing won't deliver any real revenue until 2011. We're sorry to ask, embarrassed to ask, but we need your help to survive until then and if you were considering purchasing a Salt book, we'd dearly love you to do it right now. We've less than one week's cash left.

If you can help us, please do two things:

1. Buy one book from us — we don't mind from where, it can be from your local bookstore (they need your support, too), it can be from Amazon.com or the BookDepository. It can even be directly from us. But please buy that book now.

2. Please tell everyone you know to do the same. Buy just one book and pass it on.

If money is tight for you, too, you can simply write a review of any Salt book you love on Amazon. Or recommend a book to a friend.

You can visit our Web site right now, simply go to http://www.saltpublishing.com/
and buy Just One Book.

Remember too, that every book you buy directly from us gets a raffle ticket in our Big Summer Raffle — and you could win one copy each of the next 20 books we publish from 1 September.

Thanks for continuing to support us.

Chris Hamilton-Emery
July 14




Support the publishers of poetry.

July 6, 2010

Another Summer

Another summer is in full swing. Last weekend was fireworks and lots of 90 degree days and people heading to the beaches.

A friend suggested that I do myself a favor and read Mary Oliver's Evidence.

I know what he likes in her poems - God, creation, the birds and rivers and otters and grass and wolves who are all singing songs of wonder. And she is wondering about those big questions of death, life, love, and purpose.

She gets it. If not the answers, at least the right questions. In her poem "I Want to Write Something So Simply," she says:

I want to write something
so simply
about love
or about pain
that even
as you are reading
you feel it
and as you read
you keep feeling it
and though it be my story
it will be common,
though it be singular
it will be known to you
so that by the end
you will think—
no, you will realize—
that it was all the while
yourself arranging the words,
that it was all the time
words that you yourself,
out of your own heart
had been saying.
June was a month where I attended too many wakes and funerals. I guess I am at an age when a lot of people I know and have worked with are old enough that it's not so shocking to get that news - and yet, it still is a shock.

My mother will be 92 this year and she talks about her last Mother's Day, last visits and such. She wants me to write up the papers for her funeral now, so she knows it's done right.

I'd like her to listen to Oliver's "Another Summer Begins," but I don't think it will console her.

Summer begins again.
How many do I still have?
Not a worthy question,
I imagine.
Hope is one thing,
gratitude another
and sufficient
unto itself.
The white blossoms of the shad
have opened
because it is their time
to open,
the mockingbird
is raving
in the thornbush. How did it come to be
that I am no longer young
and the world
that keeps time
in its own way
has just been born? I don't have the answers
and anyway I have become suspicious
of such questions,
and as for hope,
that tender advisement,
even that I'm going to leave behind.
I'm just going to put on
my jacket, my boots,
I'm just going to go out
to sleep
all this night in some unnamed, flowered corner
of the pasture.

My mother would say that she doesn't want to sleep in any pasture. And I might flip a few pages and say that the poet is just saying to follow that "holiest of laws: be alive until you are not."

How many summers do I still have? Not a worthy question, I imagine.




More Mary Oliver poetry books