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How To Write Poetry (Isolation Series)

Poetry is created in much the same way as other genres of writing. Something will trigger my poetic side. It might be a crushed carnation on a hot, asphalt parking lot or the combination of smells from the biting snow air to a bonfire. The call of a wild bird or a memory from childhood. I begin with the first line of the poem. Duh! Perhaps I won’t write the second line for several days. I can’t stress this enough; it’s okay if that happens.
Nothing else in the writer’s world is more from their soul than poetry. Yes, there is structure that should be adhered to (Haiku) (Sestina) but the creation of words should originate from the soul. Flowing like life’s blood from the heart.
I include here other types/forms of poetry and their disciplines. What is the difference between a sonnet and an epigram? A canzone and a narrative? Every poet is attracted to different styles. Why don’t you try one?
All of my poetry is limited to free verse or Haiku and Renku. This is where my soul sings and my heart beats. 
Start with free verse so you are not hindered by strict rules of construction, (see below). 

ABC: A poem that has five lines and creates a mood, picture, or feeling. Lines 1 through 4 are made up of words, phrases or clauses while the first word of each line is in alphabetical order. Line 5 is one sentence long and begins with any letter.
Ballad: A poem that tells a story similar to a folk tale or legend which often has a repeated refrain.
Ballade: Poetry which has three stanzas of seven, eight or ten lines and a shorter final stanza
of four or five. All stanzas end with the same one line refrain.
Blank verse: A poem written in unrhymed iambic pentameter and is often unobtrusive. The iambic pentameter form often resembles the rhythms of speech.
Burlesque: Poetry that treats a serious subject as humor.
Canzone: Medieval Italian lyric style poetry with five or six stanzas and a shorter ending stanza.
Carpe diem: Latin expression that means ‘seize the day.’ Carpe diem poems have a theme of living for today.
Cinquain: Poetry with five lines. Line 1 has one word (the title). Line 2 has two words that describe the title. Line 3 has three words that tell the action. Line 4 has four words that express the feeling, and line 5 has one word which recalls the title.
Couplet: This type of poem is two lines which may be rhymed or unrhymed.
Dramatic monologue: A type of poem which is spoken to a listener.
Elegy: A sad and thoughtful poem about the death of an individual.
Epigram: A very short, ironic and witty poem usually written as a brief couplet or quatrain.
Haiku: A Japanese poem composed of three unrhymed lines of five, seven, and five morae, with three sets. Usually containing a season word.
Horatian ode: Short lyric poem written in two or four-line stanzas, each with its the same metrical pattern, often addressed to a friend and deal with friendship, love and the practice of poetry. It is named after its creator, Horace.
Idyll: Poetry that either depicts a peaceful, idealized country scene or a long poem telling a story about heroes of a bye gone age.
Lay: A long narrative poem, especially one that was sung by medieval minstrels.
Limerick: A short sometimes vulgar, humorous poem consisting of five anapestic lines. Lines 1, 2, and 5 have seven to ten syllables, rhyme and have the same verbal rhythm. The 3rd and 4th lines have five to seven syllables, rhyme and have the same rhythm.
Narrative: A poem that tells a story.
Ode: A lengthy lyric poem typically of a serious or meditative nature and having an elevated style and formal stanza structure.
Pastoral: A poem that depicts rural life in a peaceful, romanticized way.
Quatrain: A stanza or poem consisting of four lines. Lines 2 and 4 must rhyme while having a similar number of syllables.
Rhyme: A rhyming poem has the repetition of the same or similar sounds of two or more words, often at the end of the line.
Rondeau: A lyrical poem of French origin having 10 or 13 lines with two rhymes and with the opening phrase repeated twice as the refrain.
Senryu: A short Japanese style poem, similar to haiku in structure that treats human beings rather than nature: Often in a humorous or satiric way.
Sestina: A poem consisting of six six-line stanzas and a three-line envoy. The end words of the first stanza are repeated in varied order as end words in the other stanzas and also recur in the envoy.
Shakespearean: A 14-line sonnet consisting of three quatrains of abab cdcd efef followed by a couplet, gg. Shakespearean sonnets generally use iambic pentameter.
Sonnet: A lyric poem that consists of 14 lines which usually have one or more conventional rhyme schemes.
Tanka: A Japanese poem of five lines, the first and third composed of five syllables and the other seven.

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Terza Rima: A type of poetry consisting of 10 or 11 syllable lines arranged in three-line tercets.
Verse: A single metrical line of poetry.

Free verse by yours truly:

Windstill © 

Subtle silence
Windstill
trees await the next
message on the air

Windstill
not a whisper of birdsong
not a leaf-rustle intrudes
it falls
fluttering to the ground

The wind has departed
beyond the next hill
leaving in its wake
Windstill

Will it return? The breeze
dancing amongst the leaves
to the tune of the forest

Shall the still wind haunt
amongst the trees?
or come roaring back, shrieking?
Windstill

Renku

Ruin © (Haiku)

The barn, sad and old
forgotten still standing strong
cob webs in sun beams

recycled boards raped
floor torn away, back bone gone
dust haze dance in light

the barn sad, noble
survives the last season proud
the roof falls, barn death

Did you Miss my Other Isolation Writing Ideas?
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Books by Trisha Sugarek

My Letter to Charles Bukowski

A buffoon for a leader
Gauche, socially inept, dangerous
Waving his arms around trying to find words
In his non-existent vocabulary

A little yellow man waits, with a warhead,
To blow our west coast into the sea

The Russian bear awakes from a
decades long sleep
Sniffs around the buffoon and his
weak spots
Where to strike first?

Muslims take the rap for all the violence against the fat, over-indulgent, rich country and its infidels

A country known for taking in ‘your tired, your poor, your huddled masses’ locks its doors
Goes from house to house, plucking out the illegals, leaving families decimated
Children in cages
Has Hitler finally reincarnated?

Meanwhile the planet warms so that one can hardly recognize it

Dear Hank,
Nothing new here

TS: I found a letter Bukowski wrote back in 1993 which inspired me to answer him in 2017.
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MY BLOG features INTERVIEWS with  best-selling AUTHORS!   February: Rick Lenz, March: Patrick Canning, April: Poet, Joe Albanese and May: Boo Walker 
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In Honor of National Poetry Month

I’m a humble poet, a rambling rhymester, a free verse fanatic, a Haiku sycophant. I love other poets and their scribbles and I worship at the altar of Charles Bukowski. For the month of April I celebrate National Poetry month with some of my own scribbles. 

Fragrance of Life © Trisha Sugarek

Cool rain drums on blistering
asphalt, the scent streams into
the nostrils–hot, grassy smell of
summer, freshly cut-smoky
cedar lingers on the air

Fresh popcorn drenched in
butter, I sit in the dark, musty
movie house. Childhood
memories of Tom Mix dashing
across the screen

A breath, deep of rain-damp wool,
heady peat of whiskey
neat. Old butt-imprinted leather
and the dusty, pulpy smell of a
well thumbed book as the page
is turned

The mule drawn plough turns the
rich, boggy earth beneath an
autumn sky. With luck and some
rain the larder is full at harvest
time

Wrapped in strong arms, nose
pressed to warm skin smelling of
soap and outdoors. Drinking the
heat in with the smell of the
man, your man

Sweet puppy breath. Pure
doggy conviction that you will
love him as much as he loves
you

Candles and incense in the
great cathedral… the heart fills
with faith, hope, and
expectation

Soft curls, sweet skin, the babe
squirms closer… powdery
newness, innocence, and trust

Briny, sharp tang of the northern
sea. Balmy, yielding, essence
under the Southern Cross
Green aftertaste, fishy decay
and salty fresh scent of the
clean-swept beach

Sultry air twines itself through the
Quarter, crushed sugar, wet
pavement, yeasty bouquet of
hot beignet. Warm beer,
praline sweet, heady grape
Old river water slugs along

Stifling, coppery smell of blood
be it the battle field, hospital,
crime scene, butcher shop, or
birthing room…

Cloys in the nostrils sticks in the
back of the throat like old
mucus,

Icy sweetness of winter air,
frigid sting of snow to come…
sharp pine tantalizes the senses,
as harsh breath smokes the air

Steaming manure in fresh straw,
roasted peanuts, pink spun
sugary sweet…
the pungent animals stalk the
cage. Sawdust under old
canvas glows like old gold in a
shaft of sun light.
The Big Top!
Childhood rushes back

The smell of her on your
mustache… you don’t want to
wash your face… lose the
intoxicating scent of her love

New trees struggle to rise above
a sea of old petroleum.
Pine sol lies still on the cold tiles,
stale baloney on old bread.
Rancid tired clothes reek of
cheap cologne
The truck belches halitosis

Move on down the highway

Sharp fall gusts through the
quaking aspen,
pitchy sap barks in the
crackling fire,
snowy air assaults the senses

The loon sings, warming and
plucking at the heart.
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MY BLOG features INTERVIEWS with  best-selling AUTHORS!   February: Rick Lenz, March: Patrick Canning, April: Poet, Joe Albanese and May: Boo Walker 
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‘Windstill’ ~~~In Honor of National Poetry Month

Windstill © by Trisha Sugarek

Subtle silence
Windstill
trees await the next
message on the air

Windstill
not a whisper of birdsong
not a leaf-rustle intrudes
as it falls
fluttering to the ground

The wind has departed
beyond the next hill
leaving in its wake
Windstill

Will it return? The breeze
dancing amongst the leaves
to the tune of the forest

Shall the still wind haunt
amongst the trees?
or come roaring back, shrieking?
Windstill
                                                         ********

There isn’t anything lovelier than receiving reviews from my fellow poets as I celebrate Nat’l Poetry Month.  My free verse, “Dear John” was featured on the home page of Poetrysoup.com and received these: 

‘Trisha,this poem spoke to my heart. Very raw with emotions and beautifully written, Keep that fire burning,it will light up the pathway for your John.’ Chinwe Igbozurike

and

Trisha, I really enjoyed stepping behind your eyes for a brief eclipse with your heart! Wondrous writing!’  red barchettadrive
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MY BLOG features INTERVIEWS with  best-selling AUTHORS!   February: Rick Lenz, March: Patrick Canning, April: Poet, Joe Albanese and May: Boo Walker 
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Haiku ~ In Honor of National Poetry Month

Haiku and Renku Poetry © by Trisha Sugarek

Haiku

to write haiku is
to distill to perfection
with only three lines

 

Memories of the South 

spanish moss shimmers
slave ghosts of days long gone by
hanging from the trees

stain on Old Glory
dark time of subjugation
when man enslaved man

memories forever
then bodies, now gray moss hangs
tears, blood-darken roots

Samurai Song

delicate blossom
rests in the still gnarled hand
bruised petals weep tears

weary eyes open
tiny cuts, the body bleeds
peace still years away

sun rise breaks the hill
heralds another battle
draw your sword and charge

Life after Death

Dark, cold days of grief
think you can no longer breathe
great loss, emptiness

Summer woods
a single leaf floats
deer creep along well worn paths
fish leap with delight

rings spread on the pond
katydids shout their presence
goslings paddle near

breezes stir the trees
the forest floor perfumes rise
a lone bird exults
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MY BLOG features INTERVIEWS with  best-selling AUTHORS!   February: Rick Lenz, March: Patrick Canning, April: Poet, Joe Albanese and May: Boo Walker 
To receive my posts sign up for my   On the home page, enter your email address.  Thanks! 

 

 

In Honor of National Poetry Month

I’m a humble poet, a rambling rhymester, a free verse fanatic, a Haiku sycophant. I love other poets and their scribbles and I worship at the alter of Charles Bukowski. For the month of April I celebrate National Poetry month with some of my own scribbles. 

FOGGY NIGHT © Trisha Sugarek

The white orb, tidal
saturated with huge flows
pierces through the veil
a ghost ship shrouded
in fog slips up the channel
Night gulls sing and cry
day is gone, night creeps
fog seeps in, the tide rolls out
water glistens, gold

Night soft, edges blurred
trees in ebony, drift by
damp seeps into bones
Fog casts tents of light
Hunters of the sea own night
swoop, dive, attack, eat
Fishers, feathers stark
white against the night shadows
palm trees shape the gauze
brushes hard with paint
Pilings sway, waists cinched with rope
the craft finds its home

There isn’t anything lovelier than receiving reviews from my fellow poets as I celebrate Nat’l Poetry Month.  My free verse, “Dear John” was featured on the home page of Poetrysoup.com and recieved these: 

‘Trisha,this poem spoke to my heart. Very raw with emotions and beautifully written, Keep that fire burning,it will light up the pathway for your John.’ Chinwe Igbozurike

and

Trisha, I really enjoyed stepping behind your eyes for a brief eclipse with your heart! Wondrous writing!’  red barchettadrive
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MY BLOG features INTERVIEWS with  best-selling AUTHORS!   February: Rick Lenz, March: Patrick Canning, April: Poet, Joe Albanese, and May: Boo Walker 
To receive my posts sign up for my   On the home page, enter your email address.  Thanks! 

Interview with Poet, Author, Joe Albanese

Joe Albanese is a writer from South Jersey. his work can be found in publications across the U.S. and in ten other countries. Joe’s the author of For the Blood is the Life, Caina, Smash and Grab, and a poetry collection, Cocktails with a Dead Man. If you are frustrated with the brevity of this interview, don’t despair. He lets it all hang out in this wonderful book of poetry.

Q. Where do you write? Do you have a special room, shed, barn, special space for your writing?  Or tell us about your ‘dream’ work space.

JA. Most of my writing gets done at the dining room table. Although sometimes I write in front of the tv, just for the ambient noise. Poetry I’ve written all over, mostly on my phone, then transfer it so my computer later.

Q. Do you have any special rituals or quirks when you sit down to write? (a neat work space, sharpened #2 pencils, legal pad, cup of tea, glass of brandy, favorite pajamas, etc.)

JA. Yes, I try to avoid writing at all costs. So I clean up a lot beforehand, do any chores that need or don’t even need to be done before I can sit down and write.

Q. Could you tell us something about yourself that we might not already know?

JA. I’m probably done with my writing career. I have two more books I am trying to get published, but then I’ve finished. Or at least I’ll be taking a long break while I try to find a “real” job.

Q. Do you have a set time each day (or night) to write?

JA. Usually the middle of the night. There are the least amount of distractions.

Q. What’s your best advice to other writers for overcoming procrastination?

JA. Just sit your ass down and start typing. Something good will eventually come.

Q. Where/when do you first discover your characters?

JA. I try to see how they relate to me first. Are they similar, or completely different? Then I try to get into their mindset in terms of how they’d react in the story.

Q. What first inspired you to write?

JA. My friend was high and asked if I wanted to write a screenplay. I haven’t looked back.

Q. What comes first to you? The Characters or the Situation?

JA. Mostly situation. Then I try to figure out which characters would be most fun in that situation.

Q. Do you ‘get lost’ in your writing?

JA. Not really. When I’m writing, I think about it a lot, but I never really get lost in it.

Q. Do you have a new book coming out soon? If so tell us about it.

JA. My novella, For the Blood is the Life, just got published in March. It’s crime-horror.

Q. When did you begin to write seriously?

JA. A few years ago. After my friend stopped writing with me, I got more into it.

Q. How long after that were you published?

JA. A few years before my first short story was published in Sheepshead Review.

Q. Do you think we will see, in our lifetime, the total demise of paper books?

JA. I hope not. I can’t read on a tablet.

Q. What makes a writer great?

JA. Someone who can bring truth to untruthful situations.

Q. and the all-important: What does the process of going from “no book” to “finished book” look like for you?

JA. Well, I have a lot more grey hair now than when I started writing.

Q. How has your life experiences influenced your writing?

JA. Yes, my poetry collection is mostly personal, dealing with my anxiety and depression mostly.

Q. What’s your down time look like?

JA. Ass in a chair, watching bad tv and movies.

Q. Have you or do you want to write in another genre`?

JA. Most of my fiction is crime. I guess I could one day, but my brain loves coming up with criminal characters and situations.

Note to Self: (a life lesson you’ve learned.)

JA. It’s okay to be yourself.

 

Did you miss my review of Cocktails with a Dead Man? 

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MY BLOG features INTERVIEWS with  best-selling AUTHORS!   February: Rick Lenz, March: Patrick Canning, April: Poet, Joe Albanese,  May: Boo Walker 
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Review: Cocktails with a Dead Man by Joe Albanese

reviews, authors, writingreviews, authors, writingreviews, authors, writingreviews, authors, writingFive out of five quills ~~~  A Review reviews, authors, writing

 

 

Cocktails with a Dead Man  (a book of poetry) is honest, hard hitting,  marvelous and humorously clever.

With other poems in this book, the laughs are nonexistent. Albanese’s writing reflects situations (Anniversary Dinner) too painful to face head on. Love torn asunder. (We Need To Talk) Loss and heartbreak we mortals think we cannot survive. A nice mix of  despair and irony; my perfect cup of tea.  Later in the book is a poem about our dreams of fame as writers. What writers will ‘settle for’ so we can continue to write. (Moonlight Serenade)

If Albanese keeps writing poetry, we just might have another Charles Bukowski on our hands.  This reviewer certainly hopes so. 

Writers will smile and groan as I did, when reading Sensory Adaptation. When the writing  stalls (‘writer’s block’ are words not allowed in this household) and the page remains blank this excerpt of poetry rings with all the frustration and truth we writers feel at times.

Sensory Adaptation ©

Tick-tock, tick-tock
The page is still blank
Writing at the dining room
table
I hear the clock in the family
room to my left
Tick-tock, tick-tock
I hear the clock in the living
room to my right
I hear the clock in the family
room to my left, ticking
at opposing half-seconds
Tick-tick, tock-tock
Tick-tick, tock-tock
120 per minute
30 minutes
3,600 ticks
All I see is white
The cursor blinks
Tick-blink-tick
Tock-blink-tock…

Joe told me, “I allow myself to write shit, then come back and rewrite slightly less shit. Repeat until not shit.” In my opinion, he doesn’t publish work that still contains shit, only distilled…wonderful…poetry.
 
I am looking forward to interviewing Joe soon.
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Release date, January 15th
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Book Review ~~ The Colonel and the Bee by Patrick Canning

reviews, authors, writingreviews, authors, writingreviews, authors, writingreviews, authors, writingreviews, authors, writing  5 out of 5 quills

 

A Review ~~ The Colonel and the Bee

There is one thing that delights me above all else and that is to discover a writer who can write. One who weaves words with charm and skill. Patrick Canning does this in spades! I have been reading for 55+ years and I have never come across  a Fantasy/Adventure such as this. It really doesn’t fall into any particular genre. You could read it with your kids (with a tiny bit redacted) or adults can read it. Like Spearmint gum, Double your pleasure, Double your fun!

My favorite character in The Colonel and the Bee is the ‘Ox’.  The Oxford Starladder (so aptly named) is a kind of hot air balloon.  But where we picture a simple woven basket large enough to hold two or three people, the ‘Ox’ is a four story wicker house that has a kitchen, staircases, bedrooms, library, and nursery (plants). In fact the Colonel grows rattan bamboo that ends up growing into the structure of the house as a constant form of repair. Genius! 

There is a well known epigram: ‘it’s not the destination, it’s the journey.” For me this book is ALL about the journey. The Colonel and his new-found friend, Beatrix flying above the earth in the ‘Ox’ picking up and dropping off people, having adventures along the way. I don’t know if spending all that time up there is why the  Colonel has such a lovely perspective on life and people but I wish I were one of his friends. 

My readers know me well. I don’t write spoilers or story synopses in my reviews. In my case, it’s always a review of the writing. The writing in this case is superb.  “The tick of the clock still speaks our pace.”  Word magic abounds in this book. 

I loved  the characters, the locations, and the story. Whimsical, captivating, and bewitching. The story could happen. It could be true and if it isn’t the reader so wants it to be possible. I read the end of this story twice when Bee arrives at the Hearth. It was a surprise and left the door cracked for a sequel. From my lips to God’s ear. 
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Book Review ~~ Invitation to Poetry by Mihai Brinas

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4 out 5 quills  ~~  A Review 

I rarely review books for writers I’m not familiar with…and before you judge me…I’m not a book snob. I don’t review those books because I don’t want to have to write a tough critique. New author/writers should be encouraged and lifted up. Not torn down.  But this poet intrigued me. His poetry had something to say. 

let there be rain ©

he was feeling different
he was just waiting to be seen by the world
a world that did not read poetry books anymore
you could not even find books
as if somebody had burnt them in a huge incinerator
as he was different he has gathered up there
the ashes of poetry books
he is scattering it above everybody
with just a single blow
so it may rain with poetry

Mihai stops us and makes us see a camera shot of the lonely, exhibit guard; the invisible ones. Hidden Truths hurt my heart and what more could a poet ask for. The Healed Healer  was truly beautifully written.  I wish the titles of the poetry were shorter in some cases, but that’s just personal taste. The English translation could be cleaned up….but no….that is perhaps part of the charm. 

I agree with Mihai that poetry is forgotten and not read enough. If you feel the need for a little poetry, I highly recommend his books. The verse is not shallow and you may want to read a poem over a second time…but it’s certainly gratifying and worth the reader’s time. 

 

Bio:  Mihai Brinas is a young (25) poet, living in Arad, Romania. He has published two poetry ebooks .’Invitation to Poetry’ in October 2017 and ‘Alignment of Thoughts’ in February 2018. He ‘loves life, poetry, reading. His favorite place is the town library where he enjoys seeing and touching random books while walking among the shelves.  The smell of books. To be able to choose and read one book or another.’ He writes: ‘when the emotion takes the arm of my thought and asks it out for a stroll.’

 

To purchase, Click here
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MY BLOG features INTERVIEWS with  best-selling AUTHORS!  April: International adventurer, writer, Tal Gur.  June: Manning Wolfe. July K.M. Ecke. August: Mega best selling author, Susan Mallery. September: Jonathan Rabb.  Coming this winter: Jayne Ann Krentz (Amanda Quick)

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