While the left side of the brain is typically considered to be the language center, some scientific research claims that understanding simile and metaphor, the building blocks of poetry, is done primarily in the right side of the brain. Let’s use some randomly generated similes to write poems today, to challenge our right brains (see the simile generator). For further reading on poetry and the brain, read Julie Kane’s Poetry as Right-Hemispheric Language, and Poetry Magazine’s conversation between Ange Mlinko and Iain McGilchrist This is Your Brain on Poetry. Also read the fun poem An Exercise For Limbering Up the Right Brain, by David Henson.
How do you envision the future of our world? Whether you have children or not, I want you to write a letter to our children, to the future of the species. What wisdom do you have to share? For inspiration, read Good Bones by Maggie Smith.Pay attention to the techniques she uses, such as anaphora (repetition). Of particular interest is the metaphor of a realtor trying to “sell the world” to the children. Does this metaphor ring true to you? Can you come up with a metaphor of your own about what you want to communicate to our children?
Can you allow another voice other than the speaker’s to enter the poem and influence it? Study the poem of Emilia Phillips, Reading Ovid at the Plastic Surgeon’s, with a quotation from Ovid, and the voice of another character named David. How do these quotations interact with what is happening in the poem? In your poem today, allow one quote of literature and one voice of another character to enter the poem and steer it in new directions.
I got the chance to see Carl Dennis read his poem The God Who Loves You on Thursday night, at the Pulitzer Prize winners’ poetry celebration at Cooper Union. In this poem, we learn that one person has other potential futures which God can see. Listen to the poem and study it. What kind of God is this? What is the attitude of the “you” in the poem toward the alternate life, and what is the attitude of the seemingly omniscient narrator? How might you imagine an alternate future of your own, either for yourself or another persona? How might knowing about the alternative change the way your life is today?
How do you infuse a realistic tale with strands of fantasy? You may be familiar with Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude. This week, I want you to explore writing a magical realist poem, where you offer some elements of fantasy without explanation, that only hint at meanings which your readers will discover. Maybe you’re writing about an office worker who ends up transforming into a philodendron that curls along the walls. Maybe a giraffe lowers its head to you at a zoo and tells you that it’s going to rain on your wedding day. For an example of this technique in a poem, read Alberto Rios’ A Man Then Suddenly Stops Moving.
Is there an injustice that exists in the world that makes you angry, spurs you to action? Perhaps your anger starts with a microaggression, but I want you to allow yourself to build on a small scene and allow your anger to progress in a way that the poem becomes larger than yourself. For an example, see Dylan Thomas’ Do not go gentle into that good night.
When did you feel you were no longer a child, and had crossed the threshold into adulthood? Was there a particular moment? Perhaps you were invited to sit among the adults at a holiday dinner. Perhaps it was the day you first had sex. Perhaps it was the day you realized your father was truly vulnerable, that he was mortal and would die one day. What emotions came with the transition? Tap into those emotions as you write this poem. Either write about what distinguishes childhood from adulthood for you, or try to recapture childhood in a poem. For inspiration, read Edna St. Vincent Millay’s Childhood is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies.
Have you ever wanted to step into someone else’s shoes? Write from another’s perspective? You can do this in your poetry. It’s called a persona poem, where the speaker of your poem is someone other than yourself. Choose wisely who you will write about- maybe you want to write from the perspective of a suicide bomber; maybe you want to write a poem that Trump or Hillary would write; maybe you want to write from your brother’s perspective when he saw his first child born. Whatever you choose, try to ground yourself in some emotion you think the speaker would feel. Use images and sensations that make sense for the speaker to use. Steer clear of anachronisms if you are writing about a historical figure- but if you find yourself doing that accidentally, maybe change the nature of the speaker. Perhaps Walt Disney was in fact cryogenically preserved and has now been reanimated with new insights about our modern society. As always, have fun with it!
For inspiration, read a classic persona poem by T. S. Eliot.
This is a particularly hard topic to write about, even think about so many years later. I want you to examine the way the poet attempts to honor the dead in this poem, Photograph from September 11. Does it work for you? Do you think the respect the poet offers the victims is sincere, the desire not to “add a last line”? Why might using metaphors and similes in poems about grief distance the reader from the feelings? It is hard not to be cliche, to try to say comforting things. I would like to encourage you to write about a grieving, not necessarily 9/11, perhaps something more personal to you, and attempt to allow yourself to simply describe things that happen in the poem, trying to evoke emotions that way, without resorting to metaphors that might allow you to wrap things up in a bow. Allow yourself and your readers to sit and experience the grief and pain. Can you leave the poem open-ended in some way?