 |
TJMF Publishing - Open Mike Cafe Editor's Desk Staff Editor Patty Zion |
Common Errors of Beginning Poets, Part three
The Thing Is
By Patty Zion, Staff Editor
The thing is more vital to poetry than any poetic device, and yet beginning and experienced poets often ignore it. If the thing has escaped you, your poetry needs help.
One way to define thing as it relates to poetry is concrete detail. In the poetic sense, we define concrete detail as:
"a detail in a poem that has a basis in something 'real' or tangible, not abstract or intellectual, based more in things than in thought." (Image in Poetry, OWL at Purdue University website)
A thing might be an object, a place, or a living being. For instance, here are some things: dictionary, peapod, rainforest, restaurant, wolf, dancer, motorcyclist. In our choice of words, we are wealthy beyond our financial status; we possess millions of things to use in our poems. There is never a lack of material when we focus on the real world.
All things are nouns, but not all nouns are things. For instance, love, hate, joy, happiness, intelligence, disaster, time - these are all concepts, not things in the poetic sense. Some critics also refer to these words as generalities. While it is virtually impossible to write a complete poem without mentioning at least one concept or generality, we should avoid expressing ideas by way of concepts. Instead, opt for the concrete objects (things) that will represent or illuminate the concept you want to share.
Author and writing coach John Ciardi tells of his experience with poets seeking publication:
"Not one of the poets I read had even tried to connect fact A to fact B in a way to make an emotional experience of the connection. The writing lacked thing-ness and a lover's knowledge of thing."
- John Ciardi, Everyone Wants to Be Published, The Writer's Handbook 2002
A poem by Archibald MacLeish, titled Ars Poetica, dealt with this subject many years ago. Here is an excerpt:
A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit, ...
For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf.
For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea -
A poem should not mean
But be.
While many lazy poets have used MacLeish's poem to excuse poems that make no sense, the true intent of his words is quite different. He tells us to speak in things, and he gives examples to illuminate his idea.
Try this exercise:
Make a working copy of one of your poems, and circle every thing in it. This is the beef.
Now draw one line through every concept. This is the corn syrup - it may taste good mixed into a dish, but it is too sweet on its own. While you have pen in hand, place a large X over every adjective and adverb. This is the fat - trim it.
For each concept you have crossed out, think of a way to show it or represent it with something physical, rather than intellectual or abstract. For instance, time could be shown by a pocket watch, a digital clock, or a calendar. Sorrow could be better stated by a tissue, a tear, or even sunglasses. You may not be able to substitute these objects word for word in place of the concepts, but you will find ways to incorporate the objects into the poem.
Let’s work with this vague, intellectual segment of a poem:
Why do you always
try to pry everything out of me,
expecting me to tell
my innermost secrets?
Using only one object to say the same thing, we might come up with this:
Are you my dentist?
Please note that this may not be the final version of the poem. It is simply an exercise to help you see the poetic approach to communication. The poet should also consider the tone, voice, and form of the poem before reaching a final edit.
Once you have worked through several poems in this way, you will have developed a new habit, and you will be a stronger poet. Suddenly, the entire physical world is the ink in your quill pen. And the thing is, the thing is the poetry.