Many beginning poets think that they can use synonyms willy-nilly. But the fact is that even should we find words which have similar meanings, words come with connotation. The right word can bring another layer to a poem and the wrong word can weaken it.
Readers play word association as they digest our poems. Words have been used in idioms, in speeches, in songs, in other poems, in old wives tales, in novels, in movies, in common expressions and in popular culture.
Recently, I worked on a poem and used this phrase: burning sensation. I quickly changed the word burning to stinging. Because the word combination ends the line, I did not want the reader to start thinking 'urinary tract infection' or 'athlete’s foot!' I wanted the reader to feel the impact of the words that followed (the completion of a very serious/sad image). I did not want to trip-up readers, have them laughing as they came to the realization, “Oh... I thought this was about an STD.” Uh. No.
Words are not as interchangeable as a thesaurus would lead us to believe.
Some of the best words to use in poems have several meanings. Multiple definitions of a word plays with possible connotations (and word play, but that is a subject for another blog.) By using these words, the poem will resonate within the reader. It’s about building layers in our work, playing with the subconscious.
The following poem is shared for study/education purposes only
Okay... I’ve bolded certain words in a fabulous poem written by Ester McPhee. The poem was published by the Maynard (to read the poem in its entirety, please click on the link.)
I will change those few words, and by doing so disrupt the mood and tone which Ester has brilliantly woven throughout her poem.
Please, read this first, taking note of the bolded words.
Prayer for Our Past Selves (an excerpt)
By Ester McPhee
This year your birthday happens in absence
while I am looking back
over my shoulder at our two figures,
feet sunk in the mud of the river bank.
Lord, whatever you are, scatter
language over me like salt.
I’m trying to find a way to tell
those kids that they won’t become
who they think they will—
people more extraordinary than us.
They’ll simply carry on being themselves.
Days move us closer to more days
until there is a catalogue of mornings behind us
and we are done. This year
a friend dies on my birthday
and I go to the water to say good-bye,
though he is not at the water,
not even in this city. Lord,
wherever you are, help me
make this strange translation
through time. That now an ocean
away from you I am still a body
who is part of the world. Night falls
as green as cedars, shaking us
into sudden forests. Some days we wake up lost.
http://www.themaynard.org/Vol10No1/PrayerForOurPastSelves.php
(What follows is an exercise to show how a poem can be weakened by using words that have connotation which does NOT belong in the poem.)
I have changed the words which were bolded in the original work. By doing so, I have dramatically altered (for the worse!) the poem’s tone.
[ All words in bolded capitals were not the poet’s choice.]
This year your birthday happens in absence
while I am looking back
over my shoulder at our two figures,
feet STUCK in the mud of the river bank. Like a stick in the mud; a killjoy
Lord, whatever you are, SPRINKLE sprinkles:candy on cupcakes, rainbow hues
language over me like salt.
I’m trying to find a way to tell
those kids that they won’t become
who they think they will—
people more OUTRAGEOUS than us. Too audacious, quirky...
They’ll simply carry on being themselves.
Days move us closer to more days
until there is an AGENDA of mornings behind us have an agenda,a sly purpose
and we are done. This year
a friend dies on my birthday
and I go to the water to say FAREWELL, Farewells feel less final. Best wishes.
though he is not at the water,
not even in this city. Lord,
wherever you are, help me
make this strange CONVERSION Conversion ... to convert... to change religions
through time. That now an ocean
away from you I am still a body
who is part of the world. Night falls
as VERDANT as cedars, shaking us Verdant: vibrant, bright.
into sudden forests. Some days we wake up lost.
Let’s go back and look at two of the original words (wisely) chosen:
The words sink and scatter
Sink (sunk)
1. to displace part of the volume of a supporting substance or object and become totally or partially submerged or enveloped; fall or descend into or below the surface or to the bottom (often followed by in or into):
2. to fall, drop, or descend gradually to a lower level:
3. to settle or fall gradually, as a heavy structure:
4. to fall or collapse slowly from weakness, fatigue, distress, etc.:
5. to slope downward; dip:
6. to go down toward or below the horizon:
7. to penetrate, permeate, or seep (usually followed by in or into)
Scatter
1. to throw loosely about; distribute at irregular intervals:
to scatter seeds.
2. to separate and drive off in various directions; disperse:
to scatter a crowd.
3. Physics.
- to refract or diffract (light or other electromagnetic radiation) irregularly so as to diffuse in many directions.
- (of a medium) to diffuse or deflect (light or other wave phenomena) by collisions between the wave and particles of the medium.
-
Esther McPhee chose her words carefully to suit her theme of loss and change.
Scatter. To scatter. Scattered people. Scattered thoughts.
Sunk. Sunken treasures.
Green. To be green. To be young. To be naive. To be envious. To feel ill.
Do you feel that other words in the above poem have a strong echo effect? Have undercurrents? Remind you of something?
Do you intentionally use connotation within your work? Do you notice it, later, and do you ever revise your work to include this poetic tool?