Write to the End Writer's Group
Welcome to the Poet Pub. If you are friendly, are interested in shop talk (with some light banter) then COME ON IN, grab a seat, but don’t grope any of the servers. They like it too much. If you are not interested in discussing poetry, there are many good, lite blogs on this site. I suggest you mosey on over to one of theirs. They’d sure enjoy some company!
We have bad coffee and a pint’s half price tonight. This is a pub like the days of old. Poets used to gather then and they still do, to talk shop, argue about style and voice, define what is good poetry to them, occasionally slam a tankard over lines. I’m just the barkeep for the night. I’ve no idea who will be the barkeep tomorrow or the night after... could be anyone here.
Few years back, I was a member of a writer’s group. Wetook turns hosting the group. The host would choose a subject, then we’d all discuss it for a time. It wasn’t about teaching so much as about sharing information gathered.
So, I say, why not give this a go HERE.
As the first host, I am offering up three poems and one topic: Ambiguity
I once disliked ambiguity because I believed a poem that was ambiguous was opaque. I got it all wrong. Some poems can be so hardto decipher that it would take an interpreter to get what the heck the poet is talking about. (I see you, Hatman. Share the peanuts!)
But I found this:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Types_of_Ambiguity
If you have the time, check out the Wikipedia link. Turns out, according to William Epson, that there is a lot more to ambiguity then just muddying a poem. Ambiguity is a way for poets to layer their poems with careful word selections and placement so that lines can be read and understood more than one way. It is basically the same idea as entendre, so often associated with bawdy talk. (Hey. You in the back. Stop laughing ;) )
So, I thought I’d share three poems to take a look at how this works. The following are being used for education and review purposes only and will be removed from this blog in two weeks.
1) Anna Meister is an MFA candidate in Poetry at NYU. Her poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in publications including Sugar House Review, BOAAT, Bodega, & Radar Poetry, where she was a finalist for the 2014 Coniston Prize. Anna is an editor at Mount Island Magazine, works with kindergarteners, & lives in Brooklyn.
It snowed too early
by Anna Meister
Haunting, I think, her careful use of the last words on certain lines. I prefer to discuss this as a group, so I will leave most of my oohs and ahs out of the blog itself.
2) JACK FOLEY is a poet and critic living in the San Francisco Bay area. He has written over a dozen books. Foley's most recent collection of essays, The Dancer and the Dance: A Book of Distinctions, appeared from Red Hen Press in 2008. Foley’s radio show, Cover to Cover, is heard every Wednesday at 3pm Pacific time on KPFA; past shows are available as podcasts at KPFA's web site; his column, “Foley’s Books,” appears in the online magazine, The Alsop Review. In June 2010, Foley received the Lifetime Achievement Award from The Berkeley Poetry Festival.
The Skeleton's Defense of Carnality
by Jack Foley
Remember ias we leave our comments that this is a PG audience ;) This should satisfy (pun intended) the rhyme lovers. Rhyme is still very much alive in the publishing world. So, rhymers, don’t give up!
3) One of mine, published at Ekphrastic: Writing on Art and Art on Writing
UPS AND DOWNS
By Cyndi MacMillan
after Harlequin’s Carnival by Joan Miro, 1925
We’d snuck into a single malt, a circus
of two. His family left for the weekend,
while mine had left function behind years
ago. I wasn’t missed. It’d begun innocent
enough, looking for Trouble, wondering
if it’d end in Sorry! I frowned at Life &
the boy didn’t have a Clue. I chose Snakes
& Ladders. He said, New rules. Land on
a viper, more than a token’s goin’ down.
Bottle to mouth, I nearly choked on the
promise. I upped him, put on a poker face,
drawled like I’d done it all before, Let’s
do this, strip style. He turns on the stereo,
low, lower; Bryan Ferry enslaved us as
clothes made a grid of the floor. I held my
breath with each roll, devilishly, urged him
to dash past all virtues, while still so timid
of vices. His hand traveled, took the next
step. My young heart stopped, slid with his
piece. But I gave him an out. He just smiled,
said Shh, I won’t bite. Besides, the game's
just gettin’ started. And I’ve got all night.
No. I do not think it’s great or anywhere near the excellence of the proceeding two. But it is playful. Reader-friendly...
So... look for the layers... or look for something you enjoyed. Something you didn’t? Is there one line that really stands out to you, can be read a dozen different ways?
Pub is open late. Wings are great. I’d avoid the nachos..
Cheers!
Cyndi