First, and most important, is: you can write great poetry without knowing a thing about it, just as there are brilliant musicians who have never learned to read music. I know some wonderful poets who never trouble their heads about metrical patterns and scansion. That's fine. Why should they?

On the other hand, knowing something about metrics won't ruin your poetry, either -- unless you take it too seriously and try to force things to be metrically regular that just don't want to be. I find it very useful in writing my own poetry, even though my poetry is not usually very regular. When I get in trouble, when the rhythm seems not quite right, I start counting out syllables and looking at how this line or that is fitting or not fitting the pattern. It doesn't give me a solution, but it gives me a way to think about it.

What is meter? Well, in English poetry it's patterns of stressed and unstressed syllables. A common one is iambic pentameter:  five pairs of unstressed and stressed syllables, like this:

   shall I  | com-PARE | thee TO | a SUM- | mer's DAY

It's a framework, a guide: very little good poetry is "perfectly" metrical. And it's more complicated than it looks. For one thing, "stress" is not so straightforward. Do you really stress "I" and "to" when you say that line? I don't.

Two syllable words are the easiest to work with. The noun "impact," for example, is stressed on the first syllable. "It will explode on IM-pact." But the verb "impact" is - by some speakers, some of the time - stressed on the second syllable: "how will that im-PACT the bottom line?"  It just gets worse when we move on to multisyllable words. Different dialects of English handle this differently: Americans will say AD-ver-TISE-ment: primary stress on AD, secondary stress on TISE. The British, though, who don't like two stresses in one word, will say ad-VER-tise-ment.

And then there's one-syllable words, which get stress or not, often, according to meaning: I went to the park means "I myself, and not anyone else, went to the park." Whereas "I WENT to the park" means, "I already went to the park. (And now you're asking me to go again?)" And "I went to the PARK" means, "I went to the park and nowhere else (certainly not to that woman's apartment!)"

My point is, you can't even begin to do metrics without getting tangled up in meaning and dialect. Now, if you're a poet, you should love getting tangled up with meaning and dialect: but it means that the variables multiply very rapidly, and very soon you're dealing with interpretation as much as with technicalities. It's unfortunate, maybe, that most people meet metrics, if they meet them at all, in the context of Shakespeare's dialect of English, which is quite different from Modern British English and even more different from modern American English. It can be hard enough to learn to identify stress in your own dialect. Learning to do it in an unfamiliar dialect is harder.

Step #1:

Read the following poem carefully, which came to us in a broadside by Marie Reynolds called Late Harvest published by Rattlesnake Press, and consider how you feel about it at the end of the read. Jot down notes as soon as you've finished reading it - general observations about the poem itself, as well as what emotions the poem stirred within you, what you thought, how you reacted. Note, too, what you imagine about the characters in the poem. Let your imagination play with the ideas of who they are, what their back story is, what might have brought them to this place and how they feel about it. For instance, are these people family members, lovers, friends, escaped convicts, etc.? Think about the images and their metaphorical as well as literal meaning. Concoct as many details and write down as much as you can. Please complete this step and your notes before proceeding to Step #2. Don't read ahead.

Reeling

by Marie Reynolds

We fled to the coast,

holed up in a cottage above

the stone white sea.

We walked on the bluffs, heard the drone of sage

and juniper, saw for ourselves

where the soil had slipped, sheared off

and slid under the waves.

Each day the earth loses ground to the sea.

We sat on the porch and faced the sun, shore birds

reeling, cliff sides streaked white

with salt. We watched the brown hawk

ride onshore currents, a blade suspended

in blue light, falling and rising.

[STOP HERE]

.

.

.

.

Step #2:

The above poem was not complete. A crucial piece of information was missing. The very first line was left out. Just one line, five little words. But that small bit of information is what the whole poem turns on. Now read the poem again, this time with its initial line intact.

Reeling

by Marie Reynolds

Before they confirmed the diagnosis, we fled

to the coast, holed up in a cottage above

the stone white sea.

We walked on the bluffs, heard the drone of sage

and juniper, saw for ourselves

where the soil had slipped, sheared off

and slid under the waves.

Each day the earth loses ground to the sea.

We sat on the porch and faced the sun, shore birds

reeling, cliff sides streaked white

with salt. We watched the brown hawk

ride onshore currents, a blade suspended

in blue light, falling and rising.

Now that you know what's contained in the first line, how do you feel about the poem? Look back at your notes, your initial impressions and feelings, and what you wrote about the characters lives and motivations. Has the poem's emotional impact changed for you? Do you consider the contents a little differently now that you know that tiny bit of crucial information? Does everything else in the poem take on a heightened sense of urgency or immediacy, joy or sadness, sacredness or melancholy? Does each word and image have more impact? Do they sit in a different place in your consciousness?

This exercise was designed to teach you that every line, every word of a poem can be extremely important. The best poems are constructed with careful attention to the smallest details. And the moment in which a poem turns can happen at any point in a poem. It's not always the ending that's most important. Sometimes it's the middle. Sometimes, like this poem, it's the first few words that flavor everything else that comes after. Those words are subtle, but they have great impact. We readers are allowed to determine for ourselves what that "diagnosis" might have been, and whether it had a good or a bad outcome. Those five words don't disclose too much. However, there's just enough there to make us consider everything in a different, more intense, light. We know, before we even begin, just how much this escape means to the characters. And everything that's said takes on a heightened emotional importance mainly due to those first few words.

Write a poem in which the first line divulges some crucial piece of information that flavors the way a reader will respond to the rest of the piece. What's disclosed shouldn't be long or unnecessarily detailed. Let it be a small tidbit with great impact. To test the effectiveness of this small disclosure, remove it after the whole piece has been written. If you've done it properly, the poem should make you feel one way without this initial line, and slightly to very differently when that line is included. You might even want to test it out on someone by giving them the poem to read without the initial line and then with it to see how they respond. Let the Reynolds poem be your guide in how to construct and achieve this effect, and make the most of it.

The unfolding of a poem is a great art, both for the writer and the reader. Not every one of your poems needs to unfold itself in precisely the same way. Not every poem's emotional punch comes at the end. Sometimes, you might want to put crucial information, and make a lasting impression, right in the very beginning.

in homage to Li-Young Lee

My favorite day is Saturday.

My favorite color is

dog tongue and empty bowl.

My favorite color is

"happy," the way my son says it,

clutching his small ambulance.

My favorite day is Thursday.

Thumb of circumstance.

My favorite window hinges

on the distance

of open and closed,

my heart its trapped glass

blushing a sunset-streaked descent.

My favorite dream is the one

in which I am high enough above

San Francisco to perceive the patterns.

My favorite room is hunger.

My favorite time of day is

when the light loosens me

to impression.

My favorite door ticks time.

I clip the biggest blossoms,

bouquets of days,

let the petals fall like mirrors

free, at last, of reflection.

Feeling unbalanced usually means we are spending more time on things that aren't as satisfying as we'd like. We imagine that spending less time doing those things would bring more satisfaction. But is it our to-do list or our attitude that's really bringing us down?

In reality, we all have things we must do that are less exciting. A few of mine include: paying bills, rewriting a technical piece more than five times, unloading the dishwasher, and sitting in long meetings. Yet, all of these are part of my life.

I could walk away; throw up my arms and say, Nope - not this time. Some days I do - mostly I try to remember that my dissatisfaction with certain responsibilities may come from giving these more weight than they deserve. I turn them into a big deal, especially if I've postponed them to do more meaningful activities, such as: spending time with loved ones, time writing poems, contributing to community, being in nature, reading, sleeping deeply, and cooking something healthy and wonderful.

So, how do we make peace with the things, people and obligations that demand our time - and avoid feeling resentful when they take us away from what we'd rather be doing? My personal solution is to be intentional about how I spend my time. OK, easier said than done, but here's a place to start.

Self Evaluation:

Step 1.

• Identify things, people, and obligations that contribute to feeling unbalanced or dissatisfied.
• Take just three that contribute to dissatisfaction. Put these in three columns.
• List the elements each one demands (time, money, drama, energy).
• List the elements each one contributes (learning patience, grace, kindness).
• Circle the elements you want less of.
• Underline the elements you want more of.
• Next to each circled element, write in a reasonable amount of time you will intentionally spend on this.
• Next to each underlined element, identify one action you can take to get this outcome.

Step 2.

• Create a list that includes things that truly satisfy you and contribute to feeling balanced and satisfied (sleep, exercise, quiet....).
• Circle those already incorporated into your life.
• Go back and write in the amount of time you spend on each (you can do this as a estimate by the day or week). Answer the question - is this enough?
• Underline those you'd like to integrate more regularly.
• Go back and indicate a reasonable amount of time you will intentionally spend on this as a way to become more balanced.

Step 3.

• Get started by selecting one thing from each list. Balance requires thought and can't happen if you feel overwhelmed, stressed or in a swirl.
• Keep it simple. Pick one thing from each list that you can start today.
• At bedtime, make a few short notes to these prompts:

o   Did today add or detract from feeling balanced?

o   What would I change about today?

o   In what ways would the change impact my life?

o   What can I learn from this?

o   How has today added to the quality of my life?

Remember: achieving satisfaction and balance is a process. Like anything worth doing, it takes time, patience and support. Ask for what you need and be generous with yourself. The more balance you create, the greater your sense of calm and clarity; and the better choices you'll be able to make to sustain that balance.

Howdy folks!

Have you ever been overwhelmed by the cornucopia of literary journals, websites and contests out there accepting poetry submissions?

Well, I'm here to help. I only choose fun, organized outfits in which the odds of getting published are more favorable (a 5-40% acceptance rate). Sure, publications typically receive hundreds of submissions every year or month. If you get published - and the more you submit, the better chances you have - then you have every right to feel proud and spread the news (see the end of this column). If you don't get published, then the publication got a lot of entries and was looking for something more particular to their needs. Bottom line: take that rejected poem, revise it if you will, and submit it somewhere else. Sometimes rejection can be a useful thing, a blessing, because it gives you a chance to improve your work. As the revisions increase, quality usually does, too.

Here are some great choices:

Online option: Pulse Literary Journal

A classy, beautiful website, Pulse accepts email submissions year-round. They respond in 1-2 months and sometimes comment on rejected poems, a real bonus. They have some fun theme issues, so check out the website to read the poems that did get published and to preview the submission guidelines:

Pulse Online Literary Journal (http://www.heartsoundspressliterary.com/Pulse_Literary_Journal/Poetry/Poetry.html)

Literary Journal: Pebble Lake Review

A well-regarded journal that's not overly challenging to get published in (they accept about 5% of everything they get). Published three times a year in a perfect bound format and color cover. They have a good website and if you'd like to get a feel for the quality of work here, samples are $10. Here's where you get the goods on submitting:

Pebble Lake Review (www.pebblelakereview.com)

Contest:  Soul-Making Literary Competition

This is an open, creative poetry contest with at least three cash prizes for their November 30^th deadlined contest. Their website states that "Soul-Making Literary Competition invites multifarious works that address soul-making in innovative and expanded expressions." I like it.

Check out the guidelines at:  www.soulmakingcontest.us

We really want to hear about any and all of your submission success stories. Keep us encouraged! Email Sage or yours truly at shawnsorensen43@hotmail.com. There's so much out there to submit to, so consider starting with these three solid choices and going from there. If you're looking for a great, free website with tons of fun, quality poetry publications, check out New Pages. (http://www.newpages.com/literary-magazines/) There are publications out there that want your work. You've just got to find them.

"Just write. I know it sounds cliche or simplistic, but nothing else will teach you to write. You can take a million classes, read a thousand books, but the only way to learn is to put your hand to paper or the keyboard and get started. Imagine a novice baker who read all the cookbooks in the world but never made a cake. So, just write. If it falls flat or gets burnt the first, and hundredth, time, that's okay. It might not feel like it, but you're getting better each time." -- Shanna Germain

Poet Ted Kooser, United States Poet Laureate from 2004-2006, says that in a strategy engineered to impress the girls as a young man, he called himself a poet and carried around large, impressive books to prove it. After a few years, it occurred to him that if he was going to be a poet, he'd better start writing poems. And so he did--to much eventual critical acclaim.

This seems to be a common phenomenon: people fancy themselves poets without doing the work of writing poems because this reflection appeals to them. I don't particularly object to this approach; a poet is as worthy an ideal as any I've ever come across. And as was the case with Kooser, maybe the combination of identifying as a poet and carrying around a few fabulous props are all you'll need to grease the wheels of your own poetic process...such that one day you awaken and find yourself writing poems!

I've also observed the opposite: people who have been writing poems passionately, privately for years and never think to call themselves a poet. Some of us believe that the identity of "poet" is earned only via publication or some other type of public recognition. It's no surprise that we hold ourselves in this light, since this is largely how the outer world judges and validates poets: we are deemed legitimate once we have we have something to show in the way of commerce. I noticed among my own community of wonderful, supportive friends and family (who had little experience with or understanding of poetry) a significant shift in regard for me when I was granted a fellowship to study poetry in a graduate creative writing program. Suddenly, because a large and respectable institution said that my poetry was worthy of a financial reward, there seemed to be consensus that I was A Poet.

Having the support of one's community is nice, and being paid to study and write poetry is even better. But neither of these can make or break a poet. As I see it, poets are simply people who write poems. There is no special badge required, no institution necessary to give you it's blessing. Truly, there is no prerequisite other than desire. Nothing but desire will keep you coming back to the page to work and rework and work some more at cultivating language into that exquisite container of poem.

How you choose to identify is up to you. How much you write is up to you. But if you've enjoyed getting acquainted with poetry and are considering a long-term relationship, then I'd advise you to keep those sleeves rolled up and your hands dirty. There's nothing like falling into a poem to keep us receptive and attentive to what is broken open in us. There's nothing like writing through a poem to teach us how to inhabit what is whole.

On Falling In

A Jewish friend told me this story: A man asks his rabbi, "Why does God write the law on our hearts? Why not in our hearts? It's the inside of my heart that needs God." The rabbi answered, "God never forces anything into a human heart. He writes the word on our hearts so that when our hearts break, God falls in." Whatever you hold sacred, you'll find that an unguarded broken heart is the ideal instrument for absorbing it.

If you fall into intimacy without resistance, despite your alarm, either you will fall into love, which is exquisite, or love will fall into you, which is more exquisite still. Do it enough, and you may just lose your fear of falling. You'll get better at missing the ground, at keeping a crushed heart open so that love can find all the broken pieces. And the next time you feel that vertiginous sensation of the floor disappearing, even as your reflexes tell you to duck and grab, you'll hear an even deeper instinct saying, "Fall in! Fall in!" -- Martha Beck