Friday, 26 April 2013

Poetry. The art. The meaning.

Writing a poem is different from writing a prose. Poetry is a different style of writing, that often includes more metaphors, similes, and they can sometimes rhyme. A prose is what we call a 'normal' piece of text. The format of a book is what we would call a prose. It has more of a narrative and storyline, and usually spans through a longer period of time.
Poems tend more to be wither through extended long periods of time or very sort ones. Poems are often deeper than proses and more emotional, although proses can also be very emotional. Poems use a lot of literary devices, they have quality of beauty, and flow well, and are rhythmic. Lines of poems are not always straightforward sentences, and are limited to the amount of words, so it forces you to choose your words. 

I like poetry, though I don't live for it. I prefer writing proses, but I like reading and writing poems too. It's good to sometimes get out of that 'normal' bubble. Sometimes poetry can be tedious but otherwise I quite like it. 

Today we learned about the key things you need to include in a poem. I found the terms veyr useful and they make sense. Today I learned that economy of a verse means carful use of words (it does not mean quality of a verse). 

Song lyrics are a type of poem, and usually have meaning, and a moral, like most stories. Books can also be poems. For example, the author Holly Thompson wrote a book called Orchards, which is around 200 pages and 100% poems. It took her 12 years to write. She held a workshop for students and gave us tips on how to write poems. One of her tips was- try to make the last word in a line the most powerful. She also showed us how sometimes in her book she left huge gaps in a page, or had just 1 line on a page. It was for visual effect. 

One of my favorite poets used to be Dr. Seuss. He still is, though I haven't really done much on poetry for a very long time.

Ages ago I wrote a poem that went something along the lines of:
Kingdoms rise as kingdoms fall,
An ochre handprint on the wall,
Although the stars
may glint bright,
darkness shall forever
rule the night.
Kingdoms crumble,
Kingdoms battle.
All through night,
And all through day,
A bloody war is on its way.
The stench of death,
In the air,
Troubles even a maiden fair.
Every second,
every hour,
Is a blooming bloody flower.
Mirror Mirror on the wall,
Which will be the last to fall?

What do you think about poetry?

1 comment:

  1. Hey Schmiggel,
    I love your post. Your poem you created on your own is amazing!!
    Love you,