And Here I Am Again
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Tiny feather from the head of a Whooping Crane. (Grus americana). Part of the captive flock at Patuxent Wildlife Research Center.
USGS Native Bee Inventory and Monitoring Laboratory from Beltsville, USA
The intellectual measures
with precision
the arc between meter and rhythm
between metaphor and
imagery.
Each word slotted carefully before grouting.
Each word tossed into a spinning wheeled thesaurus
to extricate its
precise meaning.
Each word marked by relative rarity amongst it brethren,
a jury/a peerage of one,
cleaving to itself in mighty accord.
Scalpel-like, it clears away
detritus by
filleting the core from the extraneous,
a blastocyst
ravaging art
for the sake of the mental equivalent
of a headboard
knot dance,
It is now alone.
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013
Posted for Poets United
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ha. i love the last line...i am def not an intellectual. ha. its hard for me to be at least...form poetry being the last on my list...i just let it find its own rhythm...and words fall where they may...smiles.
ReplyDeleteI like the way you have written about the art of writing poetry here. Some forms definitely DO demand precision as the words are slotted in the proper place.. Enjoyed this, Audrey. I will have to do a bit more of this in my writing. Ha.
ReplyDeleteas a poet and also an academic I often experience the dilemma of dissection and personal aesthetic enjoyment.one of my teachers used to say that poetry cant actually be taught.she would have loved ur take, as do I.
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed this. As a writer I don't even consider myself a poet, but a writer who occasionally does poetry.
ReplyDeleteWhat an excellent analogy you have used here.
ReplyDeleteWow. An impressive approach to poetry. I resonate with Mary - I need to do more of this type of work:) Love it and the crane feather, too.
ReplyDeleteI like your analysis here! Of course I am an intellectual, at least partly, but don't want to be left alone after measuring, slotting, tossing, dissecting, reducing and all thee rest. So, yes! Something to think about.
ReplyDeleteThis is a thought provoking poem! I reread it several times. Somehow, it seems to me the intellectual in the poem seems to be taking all the joy out of the piece of writing, ultimately leaving him/herself alone ....... perhaps without any words!!! I loved your description of the editing process, however. Writing can be lonely! Tanka Whirl
ReplyDeleteBrilliant thoughts on poetry. Sums up what all writers do.
ReplyDeleteAudrey simply brilliantly creative. Loved this!
ReplyDeleteI love the second stanza ~ There is much work to be done with searching, paring it down and letting the word stand by itself ~
ReplyDeleteAlthough most people would disagree, I am not an intellectual. I am more of a feeler, and I know you understand that. :)
ReplyDeleteI found this original and enjoyable. Very strong writing, and good.
ReplyDeleteThe quill...the "pluma" as they call it in Spanish...and mightier than the sword. Yes...all these images came to mind when I read. Awesome!
ReplyDeleteI is such a powerful being and can transform into something majestic or get dejected from life...choice is ours!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful translation, Audrey!
Each word marked by relative
ReplyDeleterarity amongst it brethren
The right choice at the right place. But in poetry it is more! The right word, the location,context,and the situation will all work together. Well said Audrey!
Hank
Ah, the olde headboard knot dance, I did a bit of that last night myself. Carving and whittling away with words, I think stardust upon trellis and filagreed moonbeam were some of the detritus cleared away, leaving only a single rose hanging from the ceiling light.
ReplyDeleteis any of this making sense. :) I hope not!
xoxo
The sense of care and contemplation - the headboard knot - very evident here. Thanks, Audrey. This is Karin on Manicddaily, on a mobile device that wants to use an old blogger account. k.
ReplyDeleteWow, so beautiful, but with me poetry is not such an exacting science. Perhaps that is why mine does not have the mystique of yours. It is just my heart and mind overflowing and me trying to keep up and quickly gather the thoughts before they are carried away like your feather.
ReplyDeleteGood job!
ReplyDelete