What to Attend to
 
1. Read old poetry. We write within a tradition, whether we know it or not. Know it. If you're going to echo Shakespeare -- and you are -- then echo Shakespeare himself, not a second-, third-, or fourth-rate imitation of him.
 
2. Memorize poetry. I say this all the time. I'm saying it again. Memorized poetry lives with you, gets under your skin, in a way that read-and-half-forgotten poetry just never does. And don't give me that stuff about not being able to memorize things. Memorization is a skill that anyone can learn.
 
It's absurd that in a culture that's downright hagridden by qualifying exams we don't teach memorization in school, but we ordinarily don't, so you have to learn it by yourself. Fortunately it's not that hard to learn, and it's an immensely useful skill in many endeavors.
 
3. Learn a language, or two, or three. You don't have to be fluent. You don't even have to be any good at it. Take classes for a year or two in a language -- preferably, one you just take a shine to and which will be perfectly useless to you forever -- and get to the point where you can understand its basic grammar, read its nursery rhymes, and have a glimpse of what the Germans call its Sprachgefühl, its "speechfeel."
 
Languages have characteristic cadences and habits of sound and meaning. Liberate yourself from the delusion that your native language is "just the way it is." It isn't. It's far more wonderful than "just the way it is": it's a magnificent piece of collaborative art. But you can't see it as such without being able to stand outside it.
 
4. Play. Be silly, maudlin, obscene, vicious, petty, overwrought, oversimple. If it's bad you can throw it away later. But write it first, and decide how good it is later. Most of it will be bad. So what?
 
What to avoid
 
1. Advice. Like this.
 
2. Words that aren't natural to you. There's a temptation to reach for impressive, rarely-used words, even though you're not really at home with them. The words you use should be supple and well-worn, comfortable in your mind and heart. I'm all for learning new words. But don't use them in poetry right away. That's like marrying someone you met just last night. You'll regret it. Trust me.
 
3. Violent, garish imagery, unless it really does precisely what you want it to. Vivid is good, but only if it's also accurate. Don't carpet-bomb the reader with gripping images because one of the incidental effects of one of the images is one that you want. Most readers don't like random assault. They want to know that if you're seizing their attention, it's for a good reason.
 
4. Silent writing. Say it. Aloud. "Poetry must always sing," said Yeats. If you can't make it sing with your voice, readers won't be able to make it sing in their heads. It's easy to fool yourself into thinking that it sounds fine if you only read it silently. Read it aloud.

* * * * *

Dale Favier has taught poetry, chopped vegetables, and written software for a living. Currently he works half-time as a massage therapist and half-time running a database for a non-profit in Portland, Oregon. He is a Buddhist, in the Tibetan tradition. He writes about meditation and poetry, and whatever ever else he may be interested in at the moment, at Mole.

He has an M.Phil. in English Literature from Yale, but he never wrote much poetry until he began blogging, a few years ago, and fell in with bad companions. With them he eventually brought out an anthology, Brilliant Coroners. His poems have also appeared in Qarrtsiluni and The Ouroborus Review. His first chapbook, Opening the World, will be coming out next year from Pindrop Press.

 

Ever heard the saying "One man's junk is another man's treasure?" Well, we took it literally to come up with this month's prompt for you. If you're anything like us, your junk mail folder fills up on a daily basis with all kinds of missives from people you've never heard of.
 
Dietra Eelexup wrote us just the other day to tell us that Hollywood stars threw up! (the exclamation point was Dietra's - we suspect she feels quite strongly about this) and Hanifi Seu wanted us to know he had a wild kingdom in his pants (lions and tigers and bears, oh, my).
 
Yes, junk mail can range from the highly amusing to the entirely aggravating. But before you press that delete key, consider that some of those e-mails can spark ideas for poems you might never have thought of on your own.
 
As administrators of an online poetry workshop, our e-mail addresses have found their way onto some very weird and wonderful lists. Following are some of the best subject lines that we've received, and they run the gamut from absurd to strangely evocative. We offer them to you in hopes that they will trigger your own poetic process:

• Create Perception (via Area Rugs)
• I'll show you how far the rabbit hole goes
• And I don't care if he does limp
• The fishwife was not paying him the slightest attention
• One of the voyeuristic booths in the affectionate bar
• We'll all be armed with pistols, one in each hand
• Check one-two. Is this thing on?
• Old Beppo sat down again
• Much like the unicorn, it is also delicious
• The eight-passenger train on the electric monorail
• infected short order cook
• Due to the improved flavor and texture, this is the best thing that ever happened to me
• accidental fundraiser
• Facetious behavior adopted by an accused man in the mistaken belief that this will endear him to the judge
• Try foolhardy phrasemaking
• Hang pictures with no tools or use of studs
• Impromptu cream puff
• Join millions of men in the revolution
• Very-very magic stick
• cluttercontrolfreak
• miserly onlooker
• At first this all sounds reasonably secure, but there are still a few problems with the fundamental design
• wobbly cashier
• We must go and get some things first
• Soft Eden
• ungodly apartment building
• Ordinary human suffering, ordinary human jealousy, ordinary human ambitions - it was just so much crap to me
• As it was, I felt as if I stood in the midst of a large map, surrounded by vague areas wherein were penned visages of particularly nasty-looking random variables
• A pretty-pretty fly
• secretly a midwife
• Did you get that on film, man?
• Maybe that's them now
• Brother Flock Higher
• It's what I painted on my wall
• When the string is rendered into an image, it will be struck through
• All girls like the big guys
• unseemly ball bearing
• Contact Victor Sly
• Therefore, a non-static inline function is always compiled on its own in the usual fashion
• There was still a threat, but now he understood it better, and, as was true of all great threats, it held great promise

Your mission this month is to use one of the above junk mail subject lines as the inspiration for a poem. We suggest you try to use it as a title and see what develops from there. Titles can be directly tied to a poem's content, they can loosely apply, or they can have nothing to do with the poem's subject matter. The choice is up to you.
 
And to make this prompt a bit more challenging, write all of these subject lines on little slips of paper, put them in a hat, and select one at random. Write a poem based on the first subject line you choose, whether it initially appeals to you or not. Often, when you remove conscious choice from the equation, the results can be extraordinary. Something that held no interest to you on first glance can begin to evolve into something truly exciting the longer you turn it over in your mind - leading you to thoughts and language even you didn't know was buried within you.

Sage Cohen is the author of Writing the Life Poetic: An Invitation to Read and Write Poetry (Writer's Digest Books, March 2009) and the poetry collection Like the Heart, the World. She writes four monthly columns about the craft and business of writing and serves as poetry editor for VoiceCatcher 4. Co-curator of a reading series at Barnes & Noble, Sage teaches the online class Poetry for the People. She has been awarded first prize in the Ghost Road Press poetry contest and nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Learn more at sagesaidso.com and writingthelifepoetic.com.

We all need a line against which
to measure our wildness.
 
The park is cut back along the path.
I align my spine with the heavy bench,
 
send my legs out around your waist
as the sun heats a halo through your long black hair.
 
Today I can understand how the scientists misjudged
the universe's color for turquoise when really it is beige.
 
The sun must have been streaming through the trees
such that the calculation of space divided by matter
 
became more like music. And when the rhythm lifted
like a woman's skirt in summer wind, someone sang,
 
as you do now, of the sky being cleared by a good hard rain.
Then the universe compressed like two bodies dancing,
 
perfected with the pressure of exchange, until
the planetary percussion became a salsa.
 
Leaning into the beat, those men reached further
than who they were. Surrendered fact to abstraction.
 
They got loose in their laboratories, pressed to the truth
of the blue of turquoise until it was the only answer.

In my last two columns, you've defined your internal and external writing spaces. Now let's talk about the realities of everyday life.
 
Think about how you move from one role (such as employee, parent, student, partner) to another. How you juggle these many identities and seem to make things work on the busiest days. Now, think about yourself as the poet-writer. Where does it fit in? If you answered, "Everywhere," there's probably no need to read further. If you said, "There's never enough time," or "It's on my list but doesn't seem to get done," or "I save it up for the weekend," then read on, my friend.
 
Imagine how it would feel if writing became an everyday practice of living. Look around, there's plenty to write about: overheard tidbits that catch your ear, the interesting profile of the person in the car ahead of you, pink tree blossoms in the wind. What if you made notes throughout the day about what you saw, heard, imagined, experienced, felt? What if you looked that list over and turned it into a line or two? What if?
 
Frequently, I pull to the side of the road to make notes, stop my shopping cart mid-aisle to write, ask the person on the other end of the phone to hold for a minute. I'm not being rude, I'm integrating the writer in me into all I do. Sure, I have a wide variety of roles - (grant writer, life-career coach, mom, partner, friend) but in each role I am still a poet. In fact, I am a poet first; and just saying this influences how I view my life. It doesn't diminish the importance of my other roles. It enhances them.

Following are some tips for how you can start integrating poetry into your everyday life:
 
Know your poetry-receiving style. Some of us like structure while others like flow. You can do it either way. For example, if you prefer structure, you could decide to be in the observer's role at a specific time. You may select an outing or even a mundane activity and let the poet-observer take the lead. At first it will feel more like segmenting than integration, but it will give you the opportunity to let the poet be in charge so that you can feel what that's like.
 
In a more fluid or "flow" mode, you are integrating the poet at all (or most) times. You are tuned in to let your encounters, experiences, and situations lead the writing. In other words, you are present as life unfolds and you are determined to capture what you can in writing.
 
To do either, carry a small, pocket size notebook everywhere. When you have a thought, observation or idea,  take the time to write it down. Don't wait; I promise it won't be there later. Hard as you try, you won't be able to capture that thought in just that way.
 
Once you have a few notes it's like having a poetry savings account. You can add to it or draw from it. It's there and it's yours.
 
Evaluate your writing mindset. Does it feel selfish or self-indulgent to spend time writing? Would your life be enriched by the time you set aside to write? Take one thing at a time - start by imagining what life will be like if you integrate the parts of you that have been disconnected from each other. Imagine writing as a priority that gets your time and attention on a regular basis. 
 
Decide on a time of day to review what you've written (with morning coffee, before bed, ten minutes in the car after work - whatever feels right to you). Ponder the words, sketches, phrases, quotes - what do they bring to mind? Do you want to build on any part of it, link things together, use something as a prompt for more writing?
 
Choose your designated time to write - to expand your notes into poems. Specifically, when in your day or week is your sacred writing time? We all know that it's good to be flexible - but not so good to give away this precious time when you have deemed it important.
 
Claim your writing self. To set aside the time as a regular practice is to make a statement to yourself and others that you value writing and have chosen to integrate it fully into your lifestyle. If you use a calendar, blackberry or some form of time organization, add in this designated time and activity. If you make it a priority and say it out loud, it is likely that you will follow through.

* * * * *

 
Toni Partington lives and works in Vancouver, WA. Her poetry has appeared in the NW Women's Journal, the Anthology of the River Poets' Society, VoiceCatcher 3, the Cascade Journal, and others. Toni's other work includes career/life coaching, editing services for new and emerging writers, and grant writing. This winter she joined the editorial collective for VoiceCatcher 4. She holds a BA in Social Work and an MA focused on Literature and Literary Editing.  Before that, Toni was a high-school drop out, pregnant and then married at age 16 whose life came faster than it should have and toughened her into a self-described survivor. Today, her circle includes family, friends, dogs and poets, not in any particular order.
Blog: www.poettone.blogspot.com
Email: tpartington@earthlink.net

By Shawn Sorensen

So far, I've recommend six different venues for your poems: two each of print journals, on-line publications and contests. Congratulations to any of you who have sent in work! As always, please let us know if anything happens, whether it's a nicely-worded (or timely) rejection or a publication by leaving a note at the Writing the Life Poetic blog. There could definitely be a celebration at hand! 

And when you are submitting work, why not start a submission tracker to kept abreast of which publications are getting which of your poems? A submission tracker can help you stay on top of what you've sent and make sure your submissions match each publication's guidelines. For example:

• Publications often will allow simultaneous submissions -- poems you've sent elsewhere -- as long as you notify them if someone else publishes your work beforehand.
• If you have something already published, then a vast majority of publications will not consider it.
• Contests -- now that's another story. As we have already seen with the contest suggestion from my last column, there are plenty of contests that will take poems that have already won or have been published. 

What's in a submission tracker? Mine is an uncomplicated Excel spreadsheet that has the following columns:  "Poem Title", "Publication/Contest", "Date Sent", "When Response Expected", "Date Returned/Published" and "Comments". 

And just what information can you put in yours? Let's try the following: 

Print Journal: the MacGuffin

Published three times per year, the MacGuffin journal simply wants "well-crafted poetry". For reference, the MacGuffin has recently published poems by Dawn McDuffie, Lisa Siedlarz and Vivian Shipley, poetry that is slightly revelatory and/or humorous in tone, something that sheds new light on the greater meanings of making it through the world. Send no more than five poems, along with a cover letter, to Carol Was, Poetry Editor/ Schoolcraft College/18600 Haggerty Rd., Livonia MI/48152-2696. Considers simultaneous submissions and would like poems to be typed and single-spaced with the poet's name, address, and e-mail appearing on each page. Include an SASE (self-addressed stamped envelope). Pays two contributor's copies. For a sample, send $6 to the above address.

Windfall

Windfall's subtitle is "A Journal of Poetry of Place". The place in question is the Pacific Northwest, of which poems submitted to Windfall must reference or be about. Having said that, though, the Pacific Northwest for this journal stretches from Alaska to San Francisco, from the Pacific Ocean to the Rocky Mountains. And you don't have to be from the Pacific Northwest to get published. Submit up to five poems to Bill Siverly and Michael McDowell, Co-Editors/Windfall Press/P.O. Box 19007, Portland, OR/97230-0007. A cover letter is preferred and Windfall considers simultaneous submissions.  Deadline for spring 2010:  February 1st. $5 sent to the above address will get you a sample copy.                                                      
Online Journal: Adirondack Review

The Adirondack Review is open to new poets who demonstrate talent as well as established writers who have demonstrations aplenty. View their colorful, unique website (www.adirondackreview.homestead.com) for sample poems and submission guidelines. Responds in one week to four months and accepts simultaneous submissions (with notification if poems are published first elsewhere).

Contest:  Twenty-Third Annual Portland Pen Poetry Contest

My idea of a good contest? One with a lot of prizes (cash or otherwise), a low entry fee and the possibility of being published if you win. This poetry contest put on by the Portland Branch of the National League of American Pen Women (NLAPW) does all three. There's a deadline of November 7th with an entry fee of $5 per poem. More details can be found at their website. 

Now get those poems out and show yourself off a little bit!  I wish you an appetizer of luck followed by a large entrée of enjoyment. 

Pema Chodron teaches tonglen practice, a style of meditation that invites us to breathe in pain-our own; the world's--and breathe out compassion for ourselves and others. The spirit of tonglen, she instructs, is to cultivate an awareness that pain is not an individual burden, but rather a universal one. It invites us to let pain become a path of awakening the heart. And it calls upon us to meet and welcome our pain so that others can be free of it.
 
As I started breathing with intention as Chodron instructs, it occurred to me that I already have a tonglen practice: poetry. I breathe in pain--my own and the world's--and I breathe out poems. Poetry gives suffering a direction. It uplifts our small moments to monumental ones, and gives our readers an opportunity to move through pain, revelation and catharsis with us. I have spent a lifetime seeking my own experience told more clearly in the poems of others. And I have recently released an enormous gasp of exhalation-a poetry collection--that I hope will offer readers recognition and relief as they see their own difficulties (and joys) through my eyes.
 
Poems may not stop the clubbing of baby seals, domestic violence, child trafficking, dog fighting, genocide or whatever it is that feels most difficult to breathe in on any given day. But as the motorcyclist must lean into the turn to prevent a fall, poems become a kind of machinery of transport, giving us a context for leaning into the pain that we meet and safely navigating through it.
 
My father always said, "Experience is what you get when you didn't get what you wanted." And poems are the treasures that can be exhumed from those undesirable experiences.  Just think all of the great, poetic opportunities for compassion and understanding that lie coiled at the heart of every mistake, heartbreak, disappointment and regret.
 
What if you were to literally look to your poetry practice as tonglen practice-a way of moving through what pierces you to the core? What injustices might it help you unflinchingly examine? What epicenter of pain or grief might it help you enter and consider? How might you relax into the universal truths of divorce, death, intolerance, change, and make a poem offering that illumines these truths with grace?