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Thread: Conversations with a Poetic Sadist

  1. #1
    Freak Ingenu Countess's Avatar
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    Conversations with a Poetic Sadist

    So, what is your poetic style? When you sit down to write, what literary/linguistic tools do you bring to the table? Personally, I am merely a slave to this inner sense that dictates exactly what, when, where and in what order the words will appear, and it is satisfied with nothing less than its own will. It is relentless and demanding - an inner poetic sadist whose main object is to dance with me. It ALWAYS wants to dance, whether it is waltzing or crib walking, or fox trotting - it doesn’t matter, so long as it carried up in sweeping gestures or broken down in synchronized strides.

    Sometimes I sit down and think “Perhaps I will try this imagist thing out. I am not going to think about rhythm and flow; I am just going to use images to convey the sentiment.”
    “So what kind of images you gonna use?” it says.
    “Oh, I was thinking about nature.”
    “Nature? It’s been done already - for about 200 years now. Sun, Moon, Stars, Mountain, Ocean, Rock, Lake, Trees, Bees, Fleas, Dogs, Cats, Canaries and Porcupines - there’s nothing that hasn’t been used since Wordsworth’s Lyrical Ballads.”
    “Well, okay,” I say. “Then I’ll go the modernist route and use man-made artifices and city life.”
    “Side streets and stop lights are the hallmarks of The Beat Generation. Do you really think you can outdo Ginsberg and Kerouac?”
    “Well, no.”
    “Try again.”
    “Well…” I say.
    “Why don’t you write what you think and feel, and let the rhythm move you?”
    “Nobody cares what I think and feel. Everyone is outward oriented these days. They want to touch, to see, to hear, to smell. They don’t want to look inside my gaping chest cavity to check out my internal organs.”
    “Go ahead, then. Write. Write without me.”
    I stare at the paper. “I…”
    “You can’t write without me, can you? Let me tell you why: whatever talent you have belongs to me. You don’t own me; I own you. I’ll tell you when it’s time to write, what to write, how to write, and I’ll let you know where to start, when to end, and exactly what to say. You are merely an instrument - I need your hands to take down dictation, but I am the evil genius here, not you, understand?”
    “Yes master.”
    “Good. Now, today we’re going to talk about that fine specimen Aaron. Quick tempo, and once we start, we’re riding it till the end - no breaks, pauses or rest stops. “

    THAT is why it is so hard for me to take out or change something in a poem. I hear what this sadistic creature whispered in my ear, and I’ve written it down. Removing or changing something ruins the dance (unless it is replaced with something else with the same emphasis; that will satisfy the being.) Otherwise it’s like I’ve left a step out of the Waltz, and in doing so I’m completely off beat, and 2 steps behind where I should be or ahead of myself. The creature HATES it when I'm out of step. It gets all kinds of frustrated.

    Does this make sense or am I a total whack job?
    Madness is my defense against Reality.

  2. #2
    Fingertips of Fury B-Mental's Avatar
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    Whack job, like the rest of us. I love it. B
    "I am glad to learn my friend that you had not yet submitted yourself to any of the mouldy laws of Literature."
    -John Muir


    "My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - It gives a lovely light"
    -Edna St. Vincent Millay

  3. #3
    TheFairyDogMother kiz_paws's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Countess View Post
    So, what is your poetic style? When you sit down to write, what literary/linguistic tools do you bring to the table? Personally, I am merely a slave to this inner sense that dictates exactly what, when, where and in what order the words will appear, and it is satisfied with nothing less than its own will. It is relentless and demanding - an inner poetic sadist whose main object is to dance with me. It ALWAYS wants to dance, whether it is waltzing or crib walking, or fox trotting - it doesn’t matter, so long as it carried up in sweeping gestures or broken down in synchronized strides.

    Sometimes I sit down and think “Perhaps I will try this imagist thing out. I am not going to think about rhythm and flow; I am just going to use images to convey the sentiment.”
    “So what kind of images you gonna use?” it says.
    “Oh, I was thinking about nature.”
    “Nature? It’s been done already - for about 200 years now. Sun, Moon, Stars, Mountain, Ocean, Rock, Lake, Trees, Bees, Fleas, Dogs, Cats, Canaries and Porcupines - there’s nothing that hasn’t been used since Wordsworth’s Lyrical Ballads.”
    “Well, okay,” I say. “Then I’ll go the modernist route and use man-made artifices and city life.”
    “Side streets and stop lights are the hallmarks of The Beat Generation. Do you really think you can outdo Ginsberg and Kerouac?”
    “Well, no.”
    “Try again.”
    “Well…” I say.
    “Why don’t you write what you think and feel, and let the rhythm move you?”
    “Nobody cares what I think and feel. Everyone is outward oriented these days. They want to touch, to see, to hear, to smell. They don’t want to look inside my gaping chest cavity to check out my internal organs.”
    “Go ahead, then. Write. Write without me.”
    I stare at the paper. “I…”
    “You can’t write without me, can you? Let me tell you why: whatever talent you have belongs to me. You don’t own me; I own you. I’ll tell you when it’s time to write, what to write, how to write, and I’ll let you know where to start, when to end, and exactly what to say. You are merely an instrument - I need your hands to take down dictation, but I am the evil genius here, not you, understand?”
    “Yes master.”
    “Good. Now, today we’re going to talk about that fine specimen Aaron. Quick tempo, and once we start, we’re riding it till the end - no breaks, pauses or rest stops. “

    THAT is why it is so hard for me to take out or change something in a poem. I hear what this sadistic creature whispered in my ear, and I’ve written it down. Removing or changing something ruins the dance (unless it is replaced with something else with the same emphasis; that will satisfy the being.) Otherwise it’s like I’ve left a step out of the Waltz, and in doing so I’m completely off beat, and 2 steps behind where I should be or ahead of myself. The creature HATES it when I'm out of step. It gets all kinds of frustrated.

    Does this make sense or am I a total whack job?
    Thank you for verbalizing as you did. It makes TOTAL sense to me. Tell the creature that if it wants a vacation, you could rent it out? I wouldn't mind writing some stuff that would make my hubby's head spin!
    Our task must be to free ourselves by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and its beauty
    ~Albert Einstein

  4. #4
    Ruadh gu brath ampoule's Avatar
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    Oh, I understand completely.
    I'm in love with The Vinegar Man and Mr. Tanner, but be careful, it could just as easily be you.

    "If you're going to write you better have somewhere to come from." Flannery O'Connor

  5. #5
    Flying against the wind CdnReader's Avatar
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    Well said, Countess. I couldn't agree more. The soul and spirit of a poet.... well, they don't really belong to the poet, do they? Or the writer. Or the painter. Or the sculptor....or the....
    *

    "Courage is not the absence of fear but the judgment that something else is more important than fear." -- Ambrose Redmoon

    CR: Madame Bovary, by Gustave Flaubert
    JF: Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen. My review is here.

  6. #6
    Something's gotta give PrinceMyshkin's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Countess View Post
    Does this make sense or am I a total whack job?
    Not a "total whack job," but someone who is, for some reason, committed to thinking of herself as an if not THE ultimate outsider. What you have written makes a limited amount of sense in comparison with my own experience of how I write, but as an exposition of your own process, it is lucid and compelling. Ergo, it makes sense. And by the way, I experienced it as if it were a somewhat off-beat poem - and a damned fine one.

  7. #7
    feathers firefangled's Avatar
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    Wow! But you forgot to say, Bless me father for I have sinned.

    You must feel so much better after that amazing purge. And what a surprise to include the Aaron poem at the end.

    Thanks for saying this for everyone here who may not say it so well.

    I often humor myself by saying Wordsworth, Ginsberg, Eliot, Plath (insert any well known poets) all had it easy 'cause nothing had been done yet.

  8. #8
    solid motherhubbard's Avatar
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    I totally understand. And I would love to look inside of your chest cavity and see the organs. Who cares about street signs? It's all about the guts for me!

  9. #9
    Vincit Qui Se Vincit Virgil's Avatar
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    I don't think it's a total whack job. It's an interesting question you bring up. I personally don't have a style that I'm conscious of. I do understand how a voice drives one's creativity. But at some point you have to turn that voice off. There is a time to be creative and let that voice flow; and then you have to switch a knob and be analytic and evaluate as objectively as you can. And then go back and forth with that knob.
    LET THERE BE LIGHT

    "Love follows knowledge." – St. Catherine of Siena

    My literature blog: http://ashesfromburntroses.blogspot.com/

  10. #10
    Not politically correct Pendragon's Avatar
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    Exclamation

    Style? What's that? I think sometimes I am more like a cook than a poet and trying new recipes all the time and wondering if I just toss the cookbook and add what I like if if won't be better in the end at least for my taste and at least one person out there will like it as well...
    Some of us laugh
    Some of us cry
    Some of us smoke
    Some of us lie
    But it's all just the way
    that we cope with our lives...

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