Poem of the Day: Oscar's Walk
excitable paws on the end of a leash
scrabbling through a pile of
wet, red leaves
that smell suspiciously like squirrel.
scrabbling through a pile of
wet, red leaves
that smell suspiciously like squirrel.
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punctuation belongs to written language, and poetry is, at it's origin, a spoken medium
line breaks work with this same idea- the end of a thought, or to slow down or speed up the way the line is read/spoken.
rhyme and harsh meter seem very grating to my ear, but then, I went to Catholic school and maybe I'm sensitive to walking in lockstep, everyone dressed the same. I'm very fond of flash and the imagist poems, because I don't want to work that hard to understand. I love a poem that is like a flower opening in my mind, the surprise and sudden beauty of it, but I don't want to have to track down some rusty key and pry an old lock apart to get what the poet is talking about.
Also from another book, can't remember what--the key to haiku is not the line pacing but the cutting verb--the verb that ties the two disparate images together. We all need more cutting verbs!
Anyway, thinking about poetry this morning.