Revisiting/Revising Poetry

[wordsheff]

I've recently begun taking my poetry to another level of importance in my own mind, not more seriously and not more valued, but maybe more carefully, entertaining the idea of seeking out publication as I'm slowly becoming a burgeoning perfectionist.

I understand that revising comes with the territory, even though often times the feeling of "it's done" can seem initially like "it's really done," when in fact, after a few days away from the piece it becomes apparent that, yes, it's indeed a house, with walls and a roof, but some of the plumbing is bad and the cable isn't hooked up yet.

My question, to those of you who have experience with what I assume to be a laborial process, revising, is:

What is more difficult, to cut or to add?
Also, when revising, how often do you try to revisit the "idea" behind it, i.e. the emotions, senses, etc., if that is even possible?

I'm sure I will think of more to ask, but for now I am seeing the difficulty in doing all of those things, and would like an experienced perspective on it.

Thanks! I know you all probably have a lot to say about this and I look forward to all the responses.

[William Haskins]

i'll go ahead and weigh in here with what is sure to be the minority opinion (and let me state up front that i am a firm believer in disciplined revision of prose).

i hardly ever revise poetry.

[Unique]

I do my revisions while I'm doing the initial work. Word change, swap lines, etc. When I'm done, I'm done. I rarely revisit it - maybe just to read it but not change it.

[Perks]

I know what you mean, William. Although I'm hardly an expert, with poetry - a word here or there after the intial construct or it seems a lost effort. Much more so than prose, a poem comes as a fairly complete thought rather than a process.

[ddgryphon]

With poetry it can go both ways. You can have a flash of inspiration and drive it to its final form in a matter of minutes. You can sometimes find yourself toiling over it for an hour to more, depending on length and how much of a struggle getting what you want turns out to be. Somtimes, you have to walk away and look at it later.

Sometimes, you leave it, look at it later and say, why did I leave it like this? Sometimes you leave it and look at it later and say -- how did I do that? Wow.

Poetry is a much more slippery thing than prose, to my mind. Prose is built on carefully constructed devices and always a movement towards clarity. If only for length alone, prose demands to be clear. Poetry is more like impressionism with words (these days). It stuggles to touch you emotionally and intellectually without drawing hard edges on everything to clearly deliniate.

So, what do I do?

I work at a poem, usually until I'm satisfied. If I'm not, I'll leave it and come back later. I prefer to write at least one complete draft in a single sitting that I'm pleased or at least marginally pleased with. Then look at it again, maybe tighten it up or clean up word doublings or overuse of a particular word. (Most often I cut out a lot of conjunctions and words that bog it down, trying to cut it to it's essence).

Fortunately, if I'm really stumped I can come here and have this wonderful think-tank help me through something particularly difficult (like the Happy Cows poem--which I'm sure few people actually liked, but at least I got useful thoughts on it--and am happy with it now).

But sometimes, you just get lucky and something pops out and wham! Poetic goodness that just flowed out of you. I'm not that lucky most days, but I've had a few.

[William Haskins]

my process with prose is very much iterative. with poetry, however, every word choice is deliberate, so the work is done in the construction phase.

[Rivana]

Have to go with William here. I hardly ever revise poetry either. Prose, yes. Poetry -veeery seldom. Most of the comments I get on my work touch on how I -speak true. (Ehrm, you know, from the heart and stuff.) And I'd rather the critics give me a bad time, than my readers ever feeling that I lie.

[poetinahat]

Excellent topic.

So far, for me, I agree with Unique, william, and Rivana -- I revise as I go.

There are a number of poems I've drafted, but when I go back to revise them, they're locked doors to me. They don't bear up to revision; the thought's gone, and I start over.

Of course, I've only ever written one-page works. An epic might be different.

Come on, aspier. Weigh in, comrade. I know you want to, and we want to hear about your hundred revisions!

[Bret]

My typical poem begins as a stuttering idiot with a wild eyed vision. I often don't even know what the poem is, only that some "manifestation" is scratching at the door. Words are scribbled willy nilly,along with what I imagine are relevant phrases. Terminology connected with the metaphor etc.

They usually go through about a dozen rewrites. Then four or five minor revisions after. Unless it is one of the incredibly rare and blessed "perfect poems," there is almost something else I can do to "reveal" it. Clarify it. If I read it a year later, I usually see an improvement I can make.

Many of my poems have been marinating in a notebook for three or more months before I seriously tackle them with the intent of finishing them.

The most painful revision (and always the most necessary) is the cold blooded strangulation of the witty line, the spectacular image, the lovely blend of rythm and sound that makes you want to say it again and again. When that line does not advance the poem but is just flashy embroidering it needs to go.

These are usually "proof" phrases I want to include to show people (or maybe show myself) I am clever, funny, or brilliant. Its hard to kill off a "stunt" line. The line that is climbing out of a wrecked car as it's about to explode, falling through a plate glass window, or is about to save the girl. That kind of line.

I always revise. I write poetry. I don't dabble in it. I'm usually committed (or should be) to the piece.

[poetinahat]

Kevin, do you have any idea how deflating that is to some of us?

I've got to go look up some of your prose now. Sheesh.

[wordsheff]

anyone else begin to feel at some point if you make a change, even if it's to correct some huge syntactical error or error in diction, any error that NEEDS to be changed, it still feels like you are scarring the poem, just because, I guess, it has become so settled in your mind or something?

[Bret]

You can get familiar with the flaws and expect them to be there. It doesn't mean they should stay. Tolerating weakness in a poem is not the same as overlooking your spouse's snoring.

A repair in one stanza can send shock waves through the surrounding stanzas, making it necessary to alter (or throw out) many lines surrounding the revision. Another temptation to leave bad enough alone. The decision to pull on a loose thread may result in the complete unravelling of the poem. But you can always start over.

Scar it, burn it, cut off all of its hair!

[drachin8]

I feel so uncreative compared to you guys. Sometimes I do like what immediately comes out, although I am not opposed to letting it sit for a bit and then tweaking a few words or phrases. Sometimes I think I found the core of an idea but am not satisfied with the execution, so I will rework the idea from a slightly different angle, then evaluate and modify as necessary. Sometimes I have something solid, but that can be improved upon yet to clarify the image or bury deeper meaning within, so I do so.

I do parts of this when writing the initial revision. The rest I do after letting it sit for a bit so I am not so caught up and married to everything. I can evaluate it with a fresh eye and see what is really working and what is not and change it accordingly. Unfrortunately, I am not so great a poet that my ideas come out as instant gold, nor can I give up on an idea without at least attempting it from a few different angles.

Some of my poems I am quite happy with after the process I have taken them through, and others still feel as thought some slight piece is off. But I have faith that I will discover what that missing piece is if I let it rest a bit before attacking it again.

And that is just me. So you instant gold guys are making me a bit jealous now. Hehe.

:)

-Michelle

[Stew21]

I'm trying to think of how I consider revising. Never revise after it has been "put away". But while I"m writing I might rearrange line order, change wording,tweak and toy with it several times before I consider it complete. I have posted works here that I have done before revision because I was seeking guidance and changed the poem as I've gotten feedback. simply because I was struggling with the work and I ws attempting to learn from our great poets here.
The ones that turn out to be the better are the ones that didn't go through that process, but landed on the page - fussed with here and there - and then done. Those are the ones with the biggest punch, the ones that read uniformly and resonate. I really need to work harder on not seeking feedback before I'm done with it, and if it isn't working I need to put it aside until the complete image comes to me in a blaze.
A lot of times I want to get a few key words and phrases down, and then play with them on the page. That's why I almost always use pen and paper for poetry writing. It feels more like word manipulation when your hand is doing the writing on a page (at least to me).
I strive to be like KTC, William, etc in that I would be able to write it well the first time, but I haven't achieved that status.

[Cassie88]

A poem begins for me with labor pains, something needing to be born, but usually, it's needs a lot of cleaning up before I'm happy with it. Every once in a while, it writes itself, but most often, I have to revise, revise, revise.

[William Haskins]

So you instant gold guys are making me a bit jealous now.

I strive to be like KTC, William, etc in that I would be able to write it well the first time, but I haven't achieved that status.

i certainly don't mean to imply that i write "instant gold" or "write it well the first time"... many of my poems die lonely deaths in notebooks and are never seen by anyone but me.

[Stew21]

i certainly don't mean to imply that i write "instant gold" or "write it well the first time"... many of my poems die lonely deaths in notebooks and are never seen by anyone but me.

I do believe you are more disciplined than I am, though, in that you chose words so carefully on first writing them. SOmetimes I have to wrestle with them on the page, not in my mind, in order to see their full potential on the page. I have some of those lonely dead poems in notebooks, too. I suppose I'm just more willing to try to perform CPR on some of them? I guess I do have quite a few zombies running around since I tried to save what should have died. Sort of like a Poet Cemetary of the King variety.

[Godfather]

Hmmm... I wouldn't think that "instant gold" poems are in anyway superior to poems that take time.

Writing a poem down, and being satisfied with it is fantastic.
Writing a poem down, and changing it and changing it until it works just right is just as fantastic (in my eyes).

Taking time with a poem can be like a maturing process, you'll notice things you didn't notice the last few times, you'll think of something better and whatnot.

Howl was written in one night, On the Road was written in one session. Does the fact of that make them superior to poems, or books, that took years to master?

[Stew21]

interesting, GF. With books and revisions, I automatically think of Tom Robbins who never outlines and only writes one sentence at a time. he perfects a sentence in every way possible whether it takes him 5 minutes, two hours or two days, and then writes the next one. He doesn't speculate on what he wants to say later in the story and try to tip it off, it is one sentence at a time starting with the first. And he has some pretty bewildering plots and characters. THere is no thought to the next part until his sentence is perfect. I think he's a genius, not only because i like his books, but because that style of writing is beyond challenging!

[wordsheff]

Godfather,

Thing about Howl and On The Road, whose one session was by the way, what, something like 3 weeks?, is that those were the Beats.
They shot for instant gold everytime. It was part of their technique.

But i agree with everything you said. Really, I knew that about Howl and OTR (which happens to be one of my favorite novels), but most poems I don't know about.

I know The Merry Wives of Windsor didn't take long because the Queen commissioned it wanting another play with Falstaff.

Let's see...our guy Dylan filled something like 20-odd pages with ideas before trimming it down to the 6 minute magnum opus called Like A Rolling Stone.

I know John Ashbery's Grand Galop and Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror both took a couple of months.

I read Langston Hughes used to write something, put it in a drawer, then after three weeks, publish, edit or toss.

THen I know there are poems that probably take even longer, i.e Song of Myself, which took somewhere around 30 years!

So right, there is set standard, it's different for all poets it seem but more likely it's different for all poems, as we will all write one that will be perfect the first time we leave our desk, and we will all write one that will keep pulling us back to our desk, perfect much later and possibly completely different than it first looked.

Anyway, great responses everyone. I'm enjoying reading them all!

[jjblue]

Revision, for me, is more 'clean it up'--never major. Re: your question about cutting and adding--I rarely add to a poem after completion. It is difficult to get the 'feel' back. Cutting, however, is sometimes necessary if a publication requires fewer lines for a poem I just know is perfect for them! I hate to cut, though, because I do love the words, and they are there for a good reason. It has given me sales, however, and I retain the original for future submissions.

I have really enjoyed the discussion, thanks for asking the question!

[JRH]

As usual, I'm going to be out of step here, because I believe the process of writing a poem is a continuous thing which is never really "totally" completed.

I have had a few Poems and Song Lyics come to me, virtually completed, but the key phrase there is "virtually" Even those required a lot of tweaking over an extended period of days to even months to polish up, a process which required both additions and deletions to make the rythems and rhyme schemes work correctly without sacrificing the meaning.

My longer Poems, often develope slowly over periods of years with new sections often necessitating revisions of the first sections in order to fit together properly.

Actually, I evaluate all my poems each time I reread them or others critique them, and have been known to change individual words or phrases and punctuation, and alter how they are presented, in order to enhance and control the flow, and I have even added or deleted whole lines on even my earliest poems if I see a better way to present what I was trying to state.

In addition to that, I often combine sections of abandoned poems to create longer, more ambitious, works, and split up larger poems into 2 or more smaller ones, if I determine they are more effective that way.

Moreover, I think you will find that a perusal of the collected works and various editions of individual volumes of most Major Poets will show similar patterns of constant tinkering and revision.

I don't say everybody should do all these things, and spontaneous creation, if the writer is satisfied with it, can work well wll for some, but the primary purpose of Poetry IS Communication, and, because Poetry is also a "Craft", it requires care and control in it's creation in order to optimize the "Communication" that can be achieved.

Hope this, in addition to what the others have commented, helps you in deciding what you wsh to do for yourself, (as the choice is ultimately yours).

Think about it,


JRH

[wordsheff]

My feeling now is most poems after a certain amount of time should be left as is or considered a totally new poem if changed.

Imagine taking a picture of yourself ten years ago and photoshopping yourself ten years older in.

That's what changing poems over years feels like to me. I may change my mind later even on this issue, but I'll leave this post as is and write another one updating my stance, ya know?

The whole thing about poems "never being done," that's tricky. It's philosophical, purely subjective. Is anything ever done? I don't know.

Well, poetry and philosophy have always gone together. Boethius, Consolation of Philosophy.

Ok, I'm watching a Bill Hicks DVD right now so I apologize for this being a bunch of incomplete thoughts but I read some more of the additions to the thread and thought I'd chime in a bit.

I'll be back. This guy is hilarious.
WS

[Godfather]

JR,
i know what your saying with the idea that a poem is (or should be) a constant work in progress. Although, often you can write a poem and, though it may have potential to be better, it stays the same for as long as.

Also, say you write a poem in the year 2000 and look over it in 2005. Your opinion has changed on this matter, and you edit and change it to your current way of thinking. I wouldn't call it an editting, but writing a new poem in response to an old one.

Now, I know I'm not making so much sense here, what I'm trying to say is that editting and changing a poem over a long period of time can result in a different poem instead of an editted version.

[LimeyDawg]

Poetry is a much more slippery thing than prose



I've always thought that a little "mud" in poetry adds to its overall appeal. It's not always a bad thing that the reader thinks "I wonder what he meant by that?" Sometimes poetry can sort of be like viewing the world through a semi-transparent window. You see images and colors, but the final picture might be different for each reader. In this regard, editing poetry (for me) is simply a matter of having it say to me what I intended from the outset. I suppose the same is true of prose and your comment about "building toward clarity" is well said.

[Nateskate]

I've recently begun taking my poetry to another level of importance in my own mind, not more seriously and not more valued, but maybe more carefully, entertaining the idea of seeking out publication as I'm slowly becoming a burgeoning perfectionist.

I understand that revising comes with the territory, even though often times the feeling of "it's done" can seem initially like "it's really done," when in fact, after a few days away from the piece it becomes apparent that, yes, it's indeed a house, with walls and a roof, but some of the plumbing is bad and the cable isn't hooked up yet.

My question, to those of you who have experience with what I assume to be a laborial process, revising, is:

What is more difficult, to cut or to add?
Also, when revising, how often do you try to revisit the "idea" behind it, i.e. the emotions, senses, etc., if that is even possible?

I'm sure I will think of more to ask, but for now I am seeing the difficulty in doing all of those things, and would like an experienced perspective on it.

Thanks! I know you all probably have a lot to say about this and I look forward to all the responses.

I've looked at your work. Your poems have some good word imagery. That's always a good place to start. Some people can't come up with "word pictures", but since you can, you have what it takes.

As a whole, shorten your poems. I say this because of your style. My suggestion is putting some poems aside for at least a couple of days.

People write with both the conscious and subconscious. Look at the most powerful sentences, and forget what you intended to say at first, or you'll try to make things fit that don't.

Cut out the other stuff and rework those sentences to perfect them. I sent you a sample on PM. I think my re-work was about half the size of your first peom. I'm not sure you'll like what I did with it, but you had the basic elements for a great poem.

[William Haskins]

interesting discussion. poetry is an odd animal, for sure. it's obviously "writing" and yet it's different in a lot of ways from writing prose.

ultimately, i consider my fight a fight against rules in general.

if you view poetry as an interative process, one of conventional prose-style "drafting", then that's absolutely valid as a method.

if you believe that poetry is more akin to impressionist painting, for instance—that the manipulation of language wrought from mental processes is a spontaneous snapshot of the moment, then that, too, is valid.

in the end, your methods are immaterial. what matters is whether or not you have moved the reader.

i beg you, reject the rules. reject the notion that formalism is a required template. and proceed with caution when seeking out and mulling over critiques.

it's a poem, not a sit-com pilot being screened for a focus group, or some new cola getting the taste-test.

[Rivana]

Amen Mr. Haskins. ^o^

[JRH]

in the end, your methods are immaterial. what matters is whether or not you have moved the reader.

Hi William,

I agree wholeheartedly, although I would contend that that is most effectively done through communication, (whether it's on an intellectual, emotional, or visual level).

I also want to clarify something. I do NOT, in fact, make many changes beyond the point where I first consider a poem done and ready for submission, (because I generally have gone through many revisions before that point) and the changes I do make after that point are generally small, consisting of a word or phrase or two that I perceive as a better option than what I originally had settled on, but I DO always keep looking for ways each poem can be improved and have in fact made such changes on occasion, when I felt they were necessary, because I want each poem express itself in the BEST manner it possibly can.

Generally, if a total rewrite is required, it usually based on what I perceive as a major flaw in the original, (whether others deem it as such or not) and results in a modification of the old poem and the birth of a new one, built on the section that I felt was out of place in the original, as in the following example:

The Swamp Next Door, (Orig)

A swamp, within the city,
A treasure for the young.
A maze of many mysteries
To grapple one by one.

Minnows swim and frogs leap.
Cattails live and die.
Insects buzz and swarm about.
Terns attack and cry.

Children float upon a raft,
Exploring all they can,
Visiting the muskrat's lodge,
Mapping out the land.

Trees of many kinds rise up,
Upon the swamp's steep banks,
And feathered guardians make their homes,
And vocalize their thanks.

Flowers bloom and bees flit,
And butterflies abound.
The air is filled with fragrance.
The air is filled with sound.

Yet, the panorama changes,
As seasons come and go;
In summer, leaves and flowers,
In winter, ice and snow.

And life goes on.......

Flowers and trees go to seed,
And happy squirrels rejoice.
The birds of summer are replaced,
With those of different voice.

Reeds sway in the winter winds.
Insects meet their fate.
The muskrats hide within their homes.
The frogs all hibernate.

The cycle turns again......

And once upon an autumn day,
A young lad who lived near,
Had climbed the limbs of an ancient oak,
Knowing naught of fear,

And reaching for an acorn .....fell
And spiraled down and down,
Catching branches as he went,
Til he softly touched the ground,

And he was keen to try again,
Though his family told him "no"
Still, in those days of later years,
He remembered how he'd flown

All part of the changing tapestry,
Unfolding every day,
Filled with myriad wonders
Ever on display.

This swamp, in time, may disappear,
As progress marches on,
But, still, that's not a reason
For anyone to mourn,

For, within the compass of these words,
It, always, shall live on.

Copyright © Spring 2004 James R. Hoye



The Swamp Next Door, (Revised)

A swamp, within the city,
A treasure for the young.
A maze of many mysteries
To grapple one by one.

Minnows swim and frogs leap.
Cattails live and die.
Insects buzz and swarm about.
Terns attack and cry.

Children float upon a raft,
Exploring all they can,
Visiting the muskrat's lodge,
Mapping out the land.

Trees of many kinds rise up,
Upon the swamp's steep banks,
And feathered guardians make their homes,
And vocalize their thanks.

Flowers bloom and bees flit,
And butterflies abound.
The air is filled with fragrance.
The air is filled with sound.

Yet, the panorama changes,
As seasons come and go;
In summer, leaves and flowers,
In winter, ice and snow.

And life goes on.......

Flowers and trees go to seed,
And happy squirrels rejoice.
The birds of summer are replaced,
With those of different voice.

Reeds sway in the winter winds.
Insects meet their fate.
The muskrats hide within their homes.
The frogs all hibernate.

The cycle turns again......

All part of the changing tapestry,
Unfolding every day,
Filled with myriad wonders
Ever on display.

This swamp, in time, may disappear,
As progress marches on,
But, still, that's not a reason
For anyone to mourn,

For, within the compass of these words,
It, always, shall live on.


First Flight

Once upon an autumn day,
A young lad who lived near,
Had climbed the limbs of an ancient oak,
Knowing naught of fear,

And reaching for an acorn .....fell
And spiraled down and down,
Catching branches as he went,
'Til he softly touched the ground,

And he was keen to try again,
Though his family told him "no"
Still, in those days of later years,
He remembered how he'd flown.

Copyright (c) 5 Mar 2006 James R. Hoye

******

I like to think that these revisions clarified the message of the original and saved the extraneous images that I wanted to retain in some form, to the benefit of both, (and that, for me, is the bottom line because that is how I feel I can best fulfill William's admonition to "move the reader").

May all find their own "best way" to do so,

Write on.

JRH

[NeuroFizz]

My expectation, for what I pass off as poetry, is not perfection. It's an idea rendered to a form that will allow others to interpret as they see fit, hopefully as I see it, but with no firm expectation of such. As long as a piece inspires some thought, or triggers an experience in a reader, I think I've succeeded.

Question from the devil's advocate: Is endless editing and the quest for perfection for the poet or for the reader? (Both is a legit answer)

[Unique]

i certainly don't mean to imply that i write "instant gold" or "write it well the first time"... many of my poems die lonely deaths in notebooks and are never seen by anyone but me.

Boy, I'll say! (Not yours, William. Mine)

I started one poem, got three verses into it and couldn't finish. I was bummed 'cuz it really was a good one. One day, a word came up in the poetry game and in a flash - the rest was there. Just.Like.That.

Recently, a verse I'd started but let sit (and sit, and sit....) finally, I just threw it out in the poetry game because the rest of it still hasn't come. They're great lines - but for now, they're going nowhere. Maybe someone else can use them. <shrug>

In conclusion, (no, I'm not really going to shut up) to me, poetry is a distillation process - a rendering down of what could be prose into a pure essence. But then again, I've never written an epic poem so perhaps in that instance it would be different.

[laurel29]

I try to revise poetry on occasion but usually I mess it up even worse. I think of it like a warm up or an excercise most of the time. The results I get may help me formulate an idea but are rarely anything that I would show anyone. They are usually so bad they are beyond redemption.

[wordsheff]

I actually find myself lately looking back at things I posted about a week i.e. orange, and thinking up new things to do with them.

So, to be honest, I'm not sure I've finished a poem in my young writing life.

With the changes though, it hasn't been anything big. It's like a lot of you have said, to paraphrase with a storm battered cliche, but it's like the house is up and lived in and just gets a little retouching/redecorating, nothing big. No change beyond adding to the poem's essence (which can be done by cutting, paradoxically).

[pconsidine]

Not that I would at all lay claim to the title of poet, but since I have an opinion, I'll share it. :)

I tend to resist reworking things too much for a couple of reasons. First - I'm an editor. Editors edit. We will edit and edit and edit just for the sheer amusement of seeing how many things we can change in a piece. But that's only part of it.

One of the big things that informs my thoughts on poetry is the fact that I was at one point a fine art painter - useless degree and everything. When it comes to painting, the biggest single mistake that people make is overworking a piece. Part of it is attempting to stave off the inevitable release to the world and the ensuing judgement. We think that if we just make this one...last...change... our work will be bulletproof and everyone will love it.

Naturally, we would all agree that's not how it happens, but that's the thought process.

There is a thing or two that I would change about my Blue Rock submission (my first poem ever), but in my mind, they're not worth the risk of overworking the piece. After all, I don't believe that people will get a wholly different emotional response from transposing two words or anything like that.

Please don't correct me if I'm wrong. It's killing me not to edit it to death already. :)

[ddgryphon]

Okay I picked up a copy of Anne Sexton: The Complete Poems for $6 because it is so much easier than looking for all my disparate copies I've purchased over the years.

Maxine Kumin, long-time friend and confidante of Sexton wrote an introduction of sorts that gives a glimpse into just how this process worked for Sexton:

Speaking of the period surrounding To Bedlam and Partway Back and All My Pretty Ones she notes:

"There was no more determined reviser than Sexton, who would willingly push a poem through twenty or more drafts. She had an unparalleled tenacity in those early days and only abandoned a 'failed' poem with regret, if not downright anger, after dozens of attempts to make it come right. It was awesome the way she could arrive at our bimonthly session with three, four even five new and complicated poems. She was never meek about it, but she did listen, and she did repsect the counsel of others."

Later she says,

"Over the years, Anne's lines shortened, her line breaks became, I think, more unpredictable, and her imagery grew increasingly surreal. Initially, however, she worked quite strictly in traditional forms, believeing in the value of their rigor as a forcing agent, believing that the hardest truths would come to light if they were made to fit a stanzaic pattern, a rhyme scheme, a prevailing meter. She strove to use rhyme unexpectedly, but always aptly. Even the most unusual rhyme, she felt, must never obtrude on the sense of the line, nor must the normal word order, the easy tone of vernacular speech, be wrenched solely to save a rhyme."

I apologize becuase the next bit is a bit long, but I think quite insightful:

"The impetus for creation usually came when Anne directly invoked the muse at her desk. Here, she read favorite poems of other poets -- most frequently Neruda-- and played certain evocative records over and over. One I remember for its throaty string section was Respighi's 'Pines of Rome.' Music acted in some way to free her to create, and she often turned the volume up loud enough to drown out all other sounds." (I can relate to this oh, so well) "But for all the sought-after and hard-won poems Anne wrote--in this connection, I recall the arduous struggle to complete 'The Operation,' 'All My Pretty Ones,' 'Flee on Your Donkey'--a number were almost totally 'given' ones. 'Riding the Elevator into the Sky,' in The Awful Rowing, is an example. The newpaper article referred to in the opening stanza suggested the poem; the poem itself came quite cleanly and easily, as if written out in the air beforehand and then transcribed onto the page with very few alterations. Similarly arrived at, 'Letter Written on a Ferry While Crossing Long Island Sound" began at the instant Anne sighted the nuns on an actual crossing. The poem was written much as it now appears on the page, except for minor skirmishes required to effect the closure in each stanza. 'Young' and 'I Remember' were also achieved almost without effort. But because Anne wanted to open All My Pretty Ones with a terse elegy for her parents, one shorn of all autobiographical detail, 'The Truth the Dead Know' went through innumberable revisions before arriving at its final form, an a b a b rhyme scheme that allows little room for pyrotechnics.

I hope this adds to the conversation as there is a lot to consider. I may post a few of these or links to them if I can find them, just for reference. No more than two, I promise.

[colpo di fulmine]

I usually do not do much revision. I used to think that if I went back to a piece, I might end up ripping it apart. But last night I decided to go through my work slowly and see what I can pull from each poem. I like the idea and have over 100 poems that have not been published - they just sit in a secret archive (mostly first drafts). When an editor asks me for a piece, I give them the password - they chose pieces knowing what they are. Sometimes I feel bad for this. Hopefully I can gather enough poems to revise w/o tossing them and sub them out. Who knows. I understand why some writers finish a piece and leave it at that - it was the way that I have always done it.

They say to go back to a finished piece in a few hours or even a few days... I am going to give that a try. Perhaps I can find something useful in the pile. :poke:

*I just woke, so if I make no sense, kick me, but not before you bring me a cappuccino. ;)