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Attention to detail
The title of this article sounds like something from an art course. In a manner of speaking, it is.
Attention to detail is as important to writing as it is for any other art form. Few poems are ever complete with the first draft. Re-reading the work after a day or so, or even an hour will show a number of flaws that will need correcting. Indeed, some of these flaws will have you wondering how on earth you managed to miss them on the first reading. Some of them really jump out from the page during this process while their creator was blissfully unaware of them while putting the words down on the page.
One of the most common of these flaws is repetition. This is OK when it is intentional, such as in a constantly repeated refrain, but when it is accidental it merely looks sloppy, especially when two or more lines end with the same word. There then follows the process of finding an alternative word or words that will provide an effective substitute for the original text.
I have sometimes found repetitions after re-reading the work several times and after a period of days in a poem that I had thought was finished. Somehow, they had managed to slip through the net. To be fair, these repetitions are not immediately obvious, but they are there all the same and should be dealt with in the same manner as the more obvious ones.
Another fault arises with the use of unnecessarily long words. It may seem clever to use polysyllabic words, but beware. Too many syllables in a word merely has the effect of breaking the natural rhythm of the poem and producing a decidedly nasty bump in the line. If a polysyllabic word fits the line without jarring or breaking the rhythm, then by all means use it, but be careful. If it is wrong, it will stick out from the poem like a carbuncle and be just as disfiguring to the work.
Rhythm & Metre
These two are commonly confused. All too often, metre is imperfectly understood and, consequently, is vilely abused. Many of us cannot count the number of bad poems that have been inflicted on us with tortured lines and laboured rhyming schemes. If a poem is to have a metre, then it has to be regular, consistently starting with a strong or weak syllable, according to the metre chosen by the writer. Whichever foot is chosen, be sure it remains the same throughout. For example, most people will be familiar with iambic pentameter. Thomas Gray's Elegy in a Country Churchyard is a good example of this. The opening line: 'The curfew tolls the knell of parting day' is an often quoted example of this, beginning with a weak syllable, followed by a strong one and alternating strong/weak, so that each line has ten syllables, five of which are strong. This pattern is often diagrammed as: / - / - / - / - / -, where / represents a weak syllable and - a strong one. The important thing is that this metric scheme remains the same throughout. / - / - / - / - / -, followed by - / - / - / - / - / does not work. If you reverse the order, it is even worse.
Free verse, which by definition has no metre, should still have a rhythm. This is easier to say than actually achieve. When I was only just starting out in poetry, I remember asking a lecturer in English for some kind of definition of free verse and was told to use the natural rhythms of speech. This did not help me much, in fact it took a long time for this advice to sink in. In time I came to understand this better, but even now I will confess that I often find it difficult to comprehend how a poem with varying line lengths and no metre at all can still have a rhythm, but it does nonetheless. There is a definite difference between a free verse poem and a prose piece that even the untrained eye will spot.
A wrong word that breaks this rhythm will eventually betray its presence by simply looking wrong. Again, like accidental repetition, it is not always immediately obvious, but be assured if you don't spot it, someone else will.
I have in the past reworked a poem no less than ten times before I was anything like satisfied with it. Each time I thought it was finished, I would spot something else I did not like and change it. This is normal. It is said that Dylan Thomas would sometimes take days pondering over a single line.
Are all poets obsessives? That could be the theme for a future article.
Attention to detail is as important to writing as it is for any other art form. Few poems are ever complete with the first draft. Re-reading the work after a day or so, or even an hour will show a number of flaws that will need correcting. Indeed, some of these flaws will have you wondering how on earth you managed to miss them on the first reading. Some of them really jump out from the page during this process while their creator was blissfully unaware of them while putting the words down on the page.
One of the most common of these flaws is repetition. This is OK when it is intentional, such as in a constantly repeated refrain, but when it is accidental it merely looks sloppy, especially when two or more lines end with the same word. There then follows the process of finding an alternative word or words that will provide an effective substitute for the original text.
I have sometimes found repetitions after re-reading the work several times and after a period of days in a poem that I had thought was finished. Somehow, they had managed to slip through the net. To be fair, these repetitions are not immediately obvious, but they are there all the same and should be dealt with in the same manner as the more obvious ones.
Another fault arises with the use of unnecessarily long words. It may seem clever to use polysyllabic words, but beware. Too many syllables in a word merely has the effect of breaking the natural rhythm of the poem and producing a decidedly nasty bump in the line. If a polysyllabic word fits the line without jarring or breaking the rhythm, then by all means use it, but be careful. If it is wrong, it will stick out from the poem like a carbuncle and be just as disfiguring to the work.
Rhythm & Metre
These two are commonly confused. All too often, metre is imperfectly understood and, consequently, is vilely abused. Many of us cannot count the number of bad poems that have been inflicted on us with tortured lines and laboured rhyming schemes. If a poem is to have a metre, then it has to be regular, consistently starting with a strong or weak syllable, according to the metre chosen by the writer. Whichever foot is chosen, be sure it remains the same throughout. For example, most people will be familiar with iambic pentameter. Thomas Gray's Elegy in a Country Churchyard is a good example of this. The opening line: 'The curfew tolls the knell of parting day' is an often quoted example of this, beginning with a weak syllable, followed by a strong one and alternating strong/weak, so that each line has ten syllables, five of which are strong. This pattern is often diagrammed as: / - / - / - / - / -, where / represents a weak syllable and - a strong one. The important thing is that this metric scheme remains the same throughout. / - / - / - / - / -, followed by - / - / - / - / - / does not work. If you reverse the order, it is even worse.
Free verse, which by definition has no metre, should still have a rhythm. This is easier to say than actually achieve. When I was only just starting out in poetry, I remember asking a lecturer in English for some kind of definition of free verse and was told to use the natural rhythms of speech. This did not help me much, in fact it took a long time for this advice to sink in. In time I came to understand this better, but even now I will confess that I often find it difficult to comprehend how a poem with varying line lengths and no metre at all can still have a rhythm, but it does nonetheless. There is a definite difference between a free verse poem and a prose piece that even the untrained eye will spot.
A wrong word that breaks this rhythm will eventually betray its presence by simply looking wrong. Again, like accidental repetition, it is not always immediately obvious, but be assured if you don't spot it, someone else will.
I have in the past reworked a poem no less than ten times before I was anything like satisfied with it. Each time I thought it was finished, I would spot something else I did not like and change it. This is normal. It is said that Dylan Thomas would sometimes take days pondering over a single line.
Are all poets obsessives? That could be the theme for a future article.
Dickpoet |
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