How do you know when a poem is finished?
I go through a few points of “completion” while composing a poem — when each stage of drafting is finished and when the poem itself is ready to share with others. I call drafting a completion, because as I’m loosing words onto a page I will inevitably reach a point of emptying. Everything I needed to say at that moment has been said and the poem in its rough, ungainly state is good enough for now.
Sometimes all a poem will need is a single draft along with some minor tinkering, sometimes this process of emptying myself is repeated multiple times as I figure out what the poem is meant to be (in some cases over a matter of years). Eventually, the poem will reach a stage at which I’m willing to send it out into the world, the point at which I suppose it could be called complete. This is governed in part by trust in my gut feeling cultivated through years of trying, failing, and trying again. Though, if I were to sum up what this feeling means, I would say that a “completed” poem has a kind of smooth roundness to it — the words, lines, imagery, beginning, and end all sitting comfortably within the curve of the whole.
Showing posts with label Andrea Blythe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Andrea Blythe. Show all posts
Friday, 7 December 2018
Friday, 30 November 2018
Andrea Blythe : part four
How did you first engage with poetry?
I believe I first started to seriously consider poetry through song lyrics. I loved the booklets that came with cassette tapes and CDs I was gifted or purchased. They were beautiful with their small pages and tiny fonts. I always open them up and peruse them as a body of work in themselves and felt terrible disappointment when the books did not feature written lyrics. Reading the songs as individual pieces, observing how the lines were broken, noticing the use or lack of punctuation, seeing how some rhymed and some did not — in whole, the way lyrics existed as written words unveiled a new understanding separate from the performative nature of the song itself. This exploration led me to perusing and picking up books of poetry at the library and discovering many new voices.
I believe I first started to seriously consider poetry through song lyrics. I loved the booklets that came with cassette tapes and CDs I was gifted or purchased. They were beautiful with their small pages and tiny fonts. I always open them up and peruse them as a body of work in themselves and felt terrible disappointment when the books did not feature written lyrics. Reading the songs as individual pieces, observing how the lines were broken, noticing the use or lack of punctuation, seeing how some rhymed and some did not — in whole, the way lyrics existed as written words unveiled a new understanding separate from the performative nature of the song itself. This exploration led me to perusing and picking up books of poetry at the library and discovering many new voices.
Friday, 23 November 2018
Andrea Blythe : part three
What poets changed the way you thought about writing?
Oh, so many — I could almost say that just about every poet I read does this for me, although a few immediately jump to mind.
Pablo Neruda provided me entry into lush language, the kind that expresses a passion for life and the details of the world at large, from a love of socks to the beauty of beasts in the wild. He makes me want to infuse my own words with the same level of passion.
Erasure poetry is a significant part of my practice, and I credit Mary Ruefle with revealing the technique to me. Her book A Little White Shadow presents a beautiful erasure of a nineteenth century books, which pretty much made my head explode when I first read it. It allowed me to re-examine what poetry is defined as.
Ron Padget introduced me to humor in poetry. He often plays with language in his poems, just delighting in the sound and texture of the language.
And then, there’s Laura Madeline Wiseman. As collaborators, we simultaneously write and edit pieces, and so I’ve been able to witness her process and how she approaches language. I find myself continually learning and expanding how I work with words through these interactions. I feel as though I’ve grown significantly as a poet since we’ve started working together.
Oh, so many — I could almost say that just about every poet I read does this for me, although a few immediately jump to mind.
Pablo Neruda provided me entry into lush language, the kind that expresses a passion for life and the details of the world at large, from a love of socks to the beauty of beasts in the wild. He makes me want to infuse my own words with the same level of passion.
Erasure poetry is a significant part of my practice, and I credit Mary Ruefle with revealing the technique to me. Her book A Little White Shadow presents a beautiful erasure of a nineteenth century books, which pretty much made my head explode when I first read it. It allowed me to re-examine what poetry is defined as.
Ron Padget introduced me to humor in poetry. He often plays with language in his poems, just delighting in the sound and texture of the language.
And then, there’s Laura Madeline Wiseman. As collaborators, we simultaneously write and edit pieces, and so I’ve been able to witness her process and how she approaches language. I find myself continually learning and expanding how I work with words through these interactions. I feel as though I’ve grown significantly as a poet since we’ve started working together.
Friday, 16 November 2018
Andrea Blythe : part two
Has your consideration of poetry changed since you began?
Definitely. The way I read, write, and perceive poetry is constantly changing. Years ago, I took a post-modern poetry class in college and it blew my mind, expanding my conception of what a poem could be, opening new doors into approaching poetry. As I continue to read both contemporary and past poets, I discover more and more ways that poetry can use words to draw out emotion or intellectual discourse. I am continually fascinated by the structural forms and styles that poets use, by the unique choices of words, phrases, or dialect. I am so inspired by the poets around me.
Definitely. The way I read, write, and perceive poetry is constantly changing. Years ago, I took a post-modern poetry class in college and it blew my mind, expanding my conception of what a poem could be, opening new doors into approaching poetry. As I continue to read both contemporary and past poets, I discover more and more ways that poetry can use words to draw out emotion or intellectual discourse. I am continually fascinated by the structural forms and styles that poets use, by the unique choices of words, phrases, or dialect. I am so inspired by the poets around me.
Friday, 9 November 2018
Andrea Blythe : part one
What are you working on?
I have a number of projects floating at the same time (as per my usual). I’m currently writing and editing three chapbooks of poetry. Pantheon is a collection honoring fictional characters in pop culture, which I finished a couple of years ago and am reworking before I continue sending it out on submissions. I have another untitled collection of found poems based on Stephen King’s The Plant that’s in the works. And I’m continuing to edit a series of prose poems based on the “Twelve Dancing Princesses” fairy tale (although it’s starting to morph into something else entirely at this point). With my collaborator, Laura Madeline Wiseman, I’m working on two separate collections — a series of Valkyrie poems and a series on warrior women in history.
Outside of poetry, I have a novel and several short stories in progress. And I’m also collaborating on a musical webseries about a woman who gets dumped and turns to her puppet friends for support.
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