Samantha Beardon's Blog, page 25
March 23, 2018
Poetry as visual Art
Poetry as Visual Art
Whilst poetry has an aural tradition we also read it and look at it. Therefore you should consider the look of your poem as well as the way ut sounds. Poetry should be visual art as well as gaving musicality and flow. Therefore the poet needs to also consider the visual aspect of the poem.
Poetry is also a visual art and if the words of the poem are centred it can suggest a spine of ink down the centre of the page, with the white space encroaching on it.
Take this poem by Dennis O’Driscoll for example – the lines look as if they are stacked up in a precarious Jenga tower, which contributes to the poem’s theme:
Life
Life gives
us something
to live for:
we will do
whatever it takes
to make it last.
Kill in just wars
for its survival.
Wolf fast-food
during half-time breaks.
Wash down
chemical cocktails,
as prescribed.
Soak up
hospital radiation.
Prey on kidneys
at roadside pile-ups.
Take heart
from anything
that might
conceivably grant it
a new lease.
We would give
a right hand
to prolong it.
Cannot imagine
living without it.
Dennis O’Driscoll
Unfortunately internet sites often mean we lose deliberate formatting which loses us a dimension in our poems impact.
Here is a poem by Miroslav Holub as you will see it on most websites
Go and open the door.
Maybe outside there’s
a tree, or a wood,
a garden,
or a magic city.
Go and open the door.
Maybe a dog’s rummaging.
Maybe you’ll see a face,
or an eye,
or the picture
of a picture.
Go and open the door.
If there’s a fog
it will clear.
Go and open the door.
Even if there’s only
the darkness ticking,
even if there’s only
the hollow wind,
even if
nothing
is there,
go and open the door.
At least
there’ll be
a draught.
The Door
by Miroslav Holub
Shaped
Go and open the door.
Maybe outside there’s
a tree, or a wood,
a garden,
or a magic city.
Go and open the door.
Maybe a dog’s rummaging.
Maybe you’ll see a face,
or an eye,
or the picture
of a picture.
Go and open the door.
If there’s a fog
it will clear.
Go and open the door.
Even if there’s only
the darkness ticking,
even if there’s only
the hollow wind,
even if
nothing
is there,
go and open the door.
At least
there’ll be
a draught.
The Door
by Miroslav Holub
This is how it was designed to be read. It adds another dimension.
And if the poem is aligned to the right this might instil a sense of instability, with the reader casting their eyes about looking for the start of each line which is floating in space rather than aligned left, where we usually expect to find it when reading.
For example this unsettling poem by Sam Riviere is made more unsettling because of its layout:
Gothic Poem
wider than a library
& strewn with flyleaves
torn from 2nd-hand novels
a grave lays in a plot of sun
like an abandoned picnic
& somewhere nearby a green bonfire
in the background a maroon lawnmower rides onto the pavement
Compare it to this more traditional way of alignment:
Gothic Poem
wider than a library
& strewn with flyleaves
torn from 2nd-hand novels
a grave lays in a plot of sun
like an abandoned picnic
& somewhere nearby a green bonfire
in the background a maroon lawnmower rides onto the pavement
The imagery is still unsettling but the whole thing feels less jarring.
This is another dimension to consider in writing poetry in particular free verse, line length, line placement and use of white space. In addition to your imagery, words and metaphors.
© S. Beardon
Uniqueness
What is it, about our uniqueness,
Should it exist?
Is it seen as a weakness,
To be burnt away, like mist,
Our spark and our idiosyncrasies,
Does society want us to conform,
Join the herd, act in ways that please,
Step in line, stay within the norm,
What is it about, your uniqueness,
That I celebrate and applaud,
Your honesty, drive and genius,
Your flaws I also laud,
What is it, about my uniqueness,
That I cherish and nurture,
The me that exists, that’s not seamless,
My drive for happiness, still a searcher,
Our spark and idiosyncrasies,
Should be cherished,
They are the oil and the antifreeze,
That fuel creativity, not see it perished.
Uneven laces
Ugly black laceups
like shiny leather shoe-boxes
slight squeak when I walked…
and I had to buy them
how I hated those shoes
First day dressed early
collar constricting and scratchy
apron swishing
the upside down watch
pen in pocket, hair neat and tidy
topped with starched cap
nurse kit in motion, stepping into the classroom
black clad foot on the first rung of the ladder
The navy blue clad tutor
with the wide frilly starched hat
Read us the rules
Then she inspected us,
Most of us were in trouble hats too big
hair untidy, shoes tied incorrectly
little misdemeanors demonstrating our
unsuitability to make the grade
My misdemeanor
those shoes
Laced incorrectly
I hated those shoes
When I qualified as a staff nurse
New neat black shoes …
no squeak as I walked
both feet firmly climbing the ladder.
This is the much edited version of a posting from last week a huge transition. To a much tighter piece.
Here is the original
Shoes, ugly black clumpy laceups looking like shoes boxes
leather, shiny with a slight squeak when I walked
I had to buy them
hospital issue, I paid they supplied
how I hated those shoes
their only saving grace the first step in my new career
It was all about the right image
skirt measured six inches from the floor
height of hat
belt colour demonstrating status
flat black shiny shoes Thick black stockings
starched apron, worn when working
Removed for meals
Collarless Grey cotton dress, white piped sleeves
three dresses to last the week
7 stiff white starched collars, 6 collar studs
12 pearl buttons with metal fasteners
7 starched white aprons
3 white starched cotton shapes to be folded into hats
one pair of ugly sturdy black shoes
Navy cloak with a red lining
The nurses kit
The basis for the next three years
The first day I wore it I was so excited
On the threshold of being Nurse Ok student nurse
my black clad foot on the first rung of the ladder
Collar attached to the dress, constricting and scratchy
Apron buttoned at the back the bib pinned
with safety pins to my dress
I added the upside down watch
A pen in my pocket, hair neat and tidy
I stepped from girl to nurse as I walked
into the classroom to meet my peers
Anxious but so proud
My misdemeanor those shoes
Laced incorrectly
I hated those shoes
Rules and responsibilities
Disipline a corner stone of our training
When I qualified as a staff nurse
and the rules relaxed, they were discarded.
New black shoes for the modern staff nurse.
March 19, 2018
Youthfulness v Age
Twenties feels shy
No self confidence, didn’t pull the guys
Body language, tended to say, dont talk, go away
Thirties feels better, career confidence, go getter
Maybe still a little self conscious, in the social whirl but gets better
Body language more open ,comprehensive, come talk, am groving
Forties, lives life, career rocketing
Good social life, develops hobbies life more astonishing
Body language open, strengths known, come talk and smile with me
Fifties, wanting to change, career pressures become a pain
Realises the need to nurture the self, easier then to explain
Body language confident open, master of experience, come spark with me
Sixties self fulfilled, feels youthful, body in tune, chilled
Seems to have matured like fine wine, feels more attractive more aligned
Body language all inclusive, reinvented, jumping fences, come fly with me.
Age today, is not about getting old
Youthfulness is lifestyle, BE BOLD.
March 17, 2018
March 15, 2018
Soliloquy
Serendipitous soliloquy
Does this tirade scan iambically
I pace the floor shouting my declaimation
Trying to rid myself of my consternation
You swore you loved me, chased and wooed me
I began to trust became your devotee
How could I become sucked in to this morass
I feel a sad rejected lass
My ego has nose dived my world has rocked
I am feeling such dismay my system is shocked
This drama is unfolding as I play my scene
Wishing like Shakespeare the villain could intervene
Or at least eavesdrop on this great soliloquy
Instead of an audience composed of just me
I hope across the ether the echoes resonate
Making you aware of my solitary debate
March 1, 2018
The Beast from the East
England has unusually heavy snow falls
Written in the Triolet form
The beast from the East
Snow beautiful, white, pristine falls
Blankets the landscape causes chaos
Gales from Siberia whoosh, life stalls
Snow beautiful, white, pristine falls
Drifts on roads, traffic stuck,life mauls
All night in cars and vans pathos
Snow beautiful, white, pristine falls
Blankets the landscape causes chaos
Snow beautiful white pristine falls
Blankets the landscape causes chaos
Trains cancelled, roads blocked,squalls
Panic buys,see stores empty walls
Hear the warnings stay at home calls
Cold biting, homeless life pathos
Snow beautiful white pristine falls
Blankets the landscape causes chaos.
February 18, 2018
The book that is me
I wish you could read the book, that is me
The chapters are muddled, loose-leaf and free
I feel self-fulfilled most of the time
Or brimming with emotion, often undefined
Passionate, energetic, a lover of learning
Apathetic and lazy, my negatives churning
I want to put everything right, with the world
To make a difference not remain unheard
My head’s full of secrets I would rather keep
Guarding them hidden even when I sleep
I wish you could interpret the book that is me
Tease out the contradictions, help set them free
Confident, articulate, a natural leader
Shy, unsure, more of a receiver
Am I out in the world or hidden under the bed
Maybe you can tell, I would rather not dwell
Am I trying to fit into this crazy world
Or being myself unreserved
I think you will have to read my book
Find out, check the whole, don’t overlook
Will you see someone open and caring
With a sense of humour meant for sharing
I am not a totally open book
Open the pages and have a look
Samantha Beardon ©
Forever Alone
It’s time for me to say goodbye
Tomorrow the communication unit
Will be switched off forever….
Doomed to fly alone through space and time
She’s old news forgotten by many
Stuck in a dark hole
Unable to communicate hopes and fears
Only able to share some of her precious secrets
Intrepid adventurer, cast into the depths of space
In the arms of her companion controller
Rosetta and Philae comet hunters extrodinaire
Completed a ten year journey to Comet 67P
Launched into space to land on the flying frozen mass
Landing, bouncing and flying
Anchors and harpoons malfunctioning
She stopped and wedged in a fissure location unknown
Eighty hours of scientific data produced
Sent 510 million miles back to earth
then batteries died her dark resting place
shielding her from solar power
As the comet flew nearer the sun
Philae revived briefly sending more data
Exact location on the comet unknown
Until one month before Rosettas demise
Philea photographed in her final resting place
The search is over I’ve found @Philae2014
Tweets bouncing around the ether
Are they reaching her as she flies wind in her hair
Samantha Beardon 2017 ©
