There's no telling who exactly convinced me to keep everything I have ever written. Vaguely I recall one of my English teachers counseling the whole class to never throw any writing away. The theory was that writing could always be rewritten, and if you had the proto-writing, you always had a place to begin again. There was also the hint of preserving your work for posterity, if you ever got good enough that anyone else would want to study your crappy, early writings . . . see how far you came. Suffice it to say, I bought the concept and have copies of just about everything I have ever written since middle school, with a few elementary school efforts still lingering in musty folders too.
As I set out to work on these exercises, suggested by Judson Jerome's The Poet's Handbook, it seemed a natural for me to recycle some of my old undergraduate poems. That way I did not have to start from scratch in the creative process. The proto-writing was there ready, willing, and able to serve. I could concentrate more on the skills that need work, like hearing accents and observing new structural possibilities. It saved me the material generating stage. I could re-use some old bricks.
Deep down there was another motivation for reworking old poems: the deep seeded belief that some of these poems actually deserve to grow up and move out some day. Perhaps by reworking them, I might find the inspiration to revise them to the point that I can send them out as more mature work. Perhaps that's a foolish idea. Perhaps I should burn everything and start anew.
Somehow I don't think that's going to happen. Let's see what actually DID happen . . .
Cadence & Caesura
caesura: "a pause in a line of poetry" (28)
balance: the relationship between "the concepts or images on one side of the caesura and those on the other." Sometimes the balance is "like" things, but could also be "contrast or antithesis". (28)
accent: a "strong stress" (28)
cadenced: "Poetry that is organized by balanced phrases and a loose regularity of strong stresses" (28)
Exercise (4-11-05): Lines with rhetorical breaks and definite cadence, using KJV of Psalms as the model.
Prey
The spider scrambles to surround the fly floundering for its freedom from wicked webs.
So comes the spider to spin its silk and with soundless ease it weakens the fly's wings.
The SPIder SCRAMbles to surROUND // the fly FLOUNDering for its freeDOM from wicKED webs.
So comes the SPIder to SPIN its SILK // and with SOUNDless ease it WEAKens the fly's WINGS.
--Keith Badowski, reworking lines from "The Prayer", circa 1988.
Note to myself: Reading these lines aloud to determine the accents, I already notice how there is a tendency to impose a metric rhythm overtop the cadence. The way I read the lines leans toward putting heavier stress on some words that should only be lightly stressed. For example, I am tempted to read the second line (above) with a steady regular beat, as follows:
So COMES the SPIder to SPIN its SILK // and with SOUNDless EASE it WEAKens the fly's WINGS.
A Wish for Breath
May you compose your songs out of wind as you soar into canyons and strain
to heights as you blow over cities less ancient then the idea of song
which was pushed into our tribe by mothers unable to wait for TV or sugar.
May your notes ever ping like gravel to beckon the buzzing crowds
to draw them into a hum or maybe a tap, anything to push around their plan for the day
to waft inside their air and be breathed but not consumed by lungs
or by speech so plain as to bore. May you wisp across the gleaming points,
may you spread across glowing hives and return my breath to sing.
May you comPOSE your SONGS out of WIND // as you SOAR into CANyons and STRAIN
to HEIGHTS as you BLOW over CITies // less ANCient then the iDEa of SONG
which was PUSHED into our TRIBE by MOthers // unable to WAIT for TeeVEE or suGAR.
May your NOTES ever PING like GRAVel // to BECKon the BUZZing CROWDS
to DRAW them into a HUM or maybe TAP // anything to PUSH around their PLAN for the DAY
to WAFT inside their AIR and be BREATHED // but NOT conSUMED by LUNGS
or by SPEECH so PLAIN as to BORE. // May you WISP across the GLEAMing POINTS,
may you SPREAD across GLOWing HIVES // and reTURN my BREATH to SING.
--Keith Badowski, entirely reworking "A Wish for Singing Breath", circa 1988.
Note to myself: I ought to do this exercise again, concentrating more on using "balance". A few of the lines in my experiment do seem to have balance, but in several instances I made no attempt to balance the concepts or images on either side of the caesura. The lines that seem most balanced to me are these:
The spider scrambles to surround // the fly floundering for its freedom from wicked webs.
(attacker // prey)
May your notes ever ping like gravel // to beckon the buzzing crowds
(sound // sound)
to waft inside their air and be breathed // but not consumed by lungs
(respiration // respiration)
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