Why We Need Poetry

Spring has sprung
in winter’s grip.
Summer’s begs that
either slip,
as Mother Nature
nurses her fat lip.

~Sherry Rentschler  (c) Apr 2018 in honor of the wacky weather

National Poetry Month arrived April 1 and during the next thirty days I take great pleasure discussing the ins and outs of free verse, making bizarre limericks, giggling over e.e. cummings, immersed in Baudelaire or Yeats, and wishing I was in Paris during the time of the beat poets.

For most folks, Poetry Month is something they hear about on Pubic Television (and therefore avoided) or from school (and therefore avoided), or in passing on the internet or social media sites (and dismissed as done by college kids or rappers). Such perceptions are a shame too, because National Poetry Month is all about discovery and learning, finding pleasure in seeing the world in new ways. 

Because we need to read poetry and let it help us discover our world in ways news and scholars and schools do not.

I heard someone say, “Poetry. Just rhyming words about things over my head.” Such remarks remind me that poetry doesn’t reach “the common man” because we never stressed the common man poems. It was all Iliad, Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Keats. And we groaned, remember? (well, I didn’t, but my friends certainly did).

More, the above comment carries weight because poetry, once the style of telling stories has passed into the background. You don’t find it in Kohl’s or Walgreens or the grocery store. It’s not in the magazines (but once or twice a year) for April and perhaps Christmas. Kids talk about it at school just long enough to get to lunch where they can discuss “real literature” like Hunger Games, Game of Thrones, and Wonder, or discuss the latest comic book/graphic novel that became a blockbuster movie (Marvel, anyone?).

Sadly, the very people discussing the latest blockbusters and listening to their playlists on their phones, are missing some of the best moments in quotable literature. According to CNN, “Fewer than 7% of Americans polled in 2012 had read a work of poetry at least once in the past year — down from 17% in 1992, according to a national survey (PDF) by the U.S. Census Bureau on behalf of the National Endowment for the Arts. That decline in participation was the steepest found in any literary genre.”

What we need to emphasis to our children and each other, is poetry is the short, short, short, story. A poem can define a moment, bring us together in surprise or sorrow, encapsulate a thought, and help us to understand ourselves in brilliant and usually brief ways. Just look at Maya Angelou or Mary Oliver and how easily we come to share their understanding. No, you don’t need to read Dante’s Inferno (though you really would enjoy it), when you can read William Carlos Williams or even Dylan Thomas. Truth is simple. And poetic.

No, poetry isn’t mainstream anymore. But if you hang out on Twitter or Instagram and you search for poetry or poets, you’ll be amazed at the real poems being shared and quotes coming from them. Many don’t even realize the poem that originated a quote but are surprised to realize that poetry made the words quotable. Take the great poet, Alexander Pope in his An Essay on Criticism, Part II , 1711:

Ah ne’er so dire a Thirst of Glory boast,
Nor in the Critick let the Man be lost!
Good-Nature and Good-Sense must ever join;
To err is Humane; to Forgive, Divine.

Poetry is more about us than we realize. Poetry is us. We sing it and the songs we sing become markers of our lives. We quote snappy lines, sometimes not realizing the words are ancient or even Nobel Prize winning. 

Do we need to know that? Nope. What we need to do is read more poetry. We need to not “go gentle into that good night” but rage against poetry’s invisibility. Help others to see the beauty all around them. Start with a child’s poem such as the insightful Shel SIlverstein. Or even Dr Seuss.  But let us dust off our old tomes and read….and celebrate Poetry Month, every month. Let our children become the natural poets of the future. Start now.

 There are so many good poets and poems out there. Sure we need to read the classics to discover the artful phrase, to understand the development of the art form, to hear the triumph in epic verses. But does that matter in the long term? Nope. What we need to do today is introduce each other to the modern poets and create a love for common words defining life in uncommon ways. To restore our wonder and excitement. To show us that we can know profound things and be better for the knowing. Poetry does this and so much more.

Let us read some poetry. Share with a friend. Just one poem. Maybe once a week or, better yet, once a day. Don’t do it with anyone if you are nervous or shy. Read it alone. Think and enjoy.

But read poetry. It will improve you, delight you, surprise and shock you. It can enrich you and prevent the inevitable ennui that comes with time.

Be invited in. See the world through rose colored glasses. Or in the boldest colors of reality.

Poetry matters.  Check out some of the ones mentioned here or ask your friends what they are reading. Go on an adventure and allow yourself to be surprised. See your world through creative, fresh eyes and maybe you’ll be inspired to write a poem or two yourself. Share with children and let’s all be a little more free verse in our lives.

Happy reading!
I remain, Yours Between the Lines,

Sherry

Enter the Bird Feeder Neighborhood

WELCOME TO THE BIRD FEEDER NEIGHBORHOOD

The calendar said it was Spring but this year I’m happy to say Winter has a firm grip and isn’t letting go. We’ve had snow flurries three times this month here, and poor New England is buried after four Nor’easters. I can’t say I’m happy for those up north but I’m delighted to be lingering under a blanket with hot tea, watching cold rain fall while I either read or write. Very satisfying.

My writer’s mind is always working but seems to work overtime during the fall and winter months. I suppose that’s why I enjoy doing National Novel Writing Month in November because it suits the weather and my “spring” fever that only comes in Autumn. When Winter arrives, I write and read like a mad woman, though much of what I write doesn’t ever see the light of day. Still, satisfying.

One thing I can tell you about writing every day is this opens your mind to new ideas and new ideas brings you more prolific moments. You know I like to take real life and turn everything into an opportunity for scene work, character development, or world building. Real life moments are what make me a better writer. Even dark and dank, (ma)lingering Winter ones.

For example, recently we put up a new bird feeder. This has been a never-ending source of incredible excitement for the local songbirds. For my husband and me too. We watch out our kitchen window as the cardinals and their mates (or potential mates) flitter and fuss over fallen seeds, the bluebirds, wrens, and sparrows becoming regular patrons. Doves rarely came to my yard before and now two pair seem to have moved in. And a gorgeous red-headed woodpecker that I saw once or twice a year is now a daily friend.

The squirrels are like potential shoplifters. We had to grease the bird feeder pole to keep one particular squirrel from climbing and pilfering the seeds. He seemed oblivious to the local bluejay security guard so we solved the problem. Just like a greedy kid, the squirrel will have to manage like everyone else. I’m keeping an eye on him.

I liken this whole moment to opening a new apartment building. Suddenly you get all sorts of people moving in and out, strange and beautiful. Dating and mating and married for life-ers. There are the fussy, the troublemakers, the slow movers, and the ones always in a hurry but going no where.

And just like real life, you get the ugly moments too. A raccoon died in the road out front of the house. A black vulture dragged it to the end of the driveway. Then into the side ditch. Then back onto the driveway. Then UP the driveway. That’s when the friends showed up. For two days, we watched this go on and then when the raccoon ended up in the middle of our drive, hubby loaded it onto a shovel and tossed it into the neighboring pasture (that’s called passing the buck). Now we see the vultures from a distance. Close enough to see them manage their meals but far enough away that the gruesome factor is mitigated. Let those demons attack elsewhere, right?

Same as it would be for my neighborhood apartment building. Death in the streets is a natural occurrence. Robbing and dragging. Gangs showing up for spoils.

The rains are back. The birds are scattering. They too need time in their cozy nests. I hear a redtail hawk overhead. Squirrels run for cover. Like sirens screeching by in the road, these sirens in the sky warn of danger and accidents. Like me, like people, the birds and animals know.

A doe and two young fawns make their way over barbed wire fence (what separates me from the neighboring pasture) and come to feed on unborn tulips and fallen bird seed. The birds scatter at first, then return, realizing the diner is big enough for everyone. It is a peaceful neighborhood and diversity is possible. Deer, dove, large birds and small. Oh look! A bunny. Ah, that was a nibble on the run much like young folks who are too busy to stop and chat.

(Not my pic, but funny)

Like a true diner, the bell over the door is silent but when the diner is open, it serves many and all.

Life is happening outside my window and in my writer’s mind it is a world not dissimilar to the one I live in. Even in the darkness, when I know the “others” come – the fox, the coyote, the possum, and raccoon – the 24-hour diner continues to serve, their world turns and life is a cycle of comings and goings, birth and death. But this “local diner” is now the hub of activity and feels comfortable.

Uh-oh, there’s the black cat that lives somewhere around here. I think of him as the mafia don, always looking for a payment. Everyone has fled and the cat sits atop my firepit surveying the scene. He’s looking mighty plump these days so business must be profitable. From the tail twitch, someone’s going to pay up soon. When he’s gone, the small birds return. Life goes on.

Thrones, anyone?

That’s the way our book series work, too. We build a world, make the lives, stay with them day in and day out, get comfortable with our characters, look for them, get to know them, need them.

Even when Winter has to let go for Spring, life around the diner will be a never-ending story to savor. I’m certain that’s when I’ll finally see the falcon who gives the hawk competition. Of course, the owl who cries “whooooo” as the police on patrol, lets me know all is well in the neighborhood.

Let the life outside your window give your imagination fodder for your characters as mine does. You’ll writing will sparkle with realism because it will reflect the life’s truth in microcosm. And the fun you’ll have is endless.

We’ve put up a hummingbird feeder close to the window. It’ll be like going to ballet. I can’t wait for that show to come to town. When Spring is allowed to arrive, that heralds the butterflies and bats, and finally Summer’s fireflies. It’s like waiting for the circus.

We’re putting in a birdbath soon. My own neighborhood bathhouse.Stay tuned! And keep writing.

I remain, Yours Between the Lines,
Sherry

P.S. Look for my poetry contest!  Rules at the end of this week. 

Answering Writers' Questions

This week I thought it would be fun to answer some questions that fellow writers sent me. I offer these writing issues with my personal opinions for possible solutions.

Let’s begin with a big one I get asked repeatedly:

I want to write but I just can’t find a way to begin. I’m blocked. I feel the words but can’t get them down on paper. Now I’m not sure I’ll ever write. ~Susan, Calif.

Hi Susan. First, I don’t believe in writer’s block (never did). I think I can help you with my trick. When I feel overwhelmed with lots of ideas, I do a brain dump. I have a variety of notebooks for just this sort of issue. First, I have a notebook for “ideas.” These are the random things I think about but aren’t sure what to do with them yet. Then I have a notebook for every book/project I’m working on. I keep those ideas together and that’s to be sure I don’t lose any story gems I think about but can’t write about just yet. Next, I have a notebook for research. You know those things you learn but it isn’t trivia and it isn’t a story (yet) but you think you might need it? I call this my Random Facts book. Very handy.  With these notebooks, I ensure that my ideas are captured and my brain is emptied of the clutter. This allows me to have a sharper focus on what I need or want to do and I’m not fighting my own ideas. 

Then you just begin. Don’t worry if it isn’t the actual beginning of a story or novel. Just start writing. Aren’t sure where the story is going to go? Don’t rub that wound, just let the writing out. Go ahead and do that crazy dialogue you’ve been fuming over. Write that creative description of that house. Take the car ride and tell us what you see. Just start. The rest will come. Hope this helps.

 

 

I have to do research for my story but I don’t know how to stop. I love it and my writing stops when I start searching. Then It’s hard to start again. ~Ted, MD

Good question, Ted. I love research too. I confess I’ve spent days lost in my search for cool stuff. When I was writing THE GYPSY THORN, I learned so much history, reading about Vienna, trade routes, churches and royalty that I felt I could write a college paper with ease. I printed off gobs of goodies and that is my secret. First, as I told Susan (above), you jot your notes down or you print the stuff off the computer (be sure to keep your bibliography and NEVER plagiarize from others). I like to be able to re-read my research later. To be sure I don’t get lost I either set a timer and stick to it or set aside a day just for that one thing. Then I don’t feel guilty or feel as though I’ve neglected my main work. When I find what I need I stop (most of the time). If I have found other goodies, I bookmark or make the notes in my notebook for the next designated research time. I recommend no more than three days a week if you have a great deal to do or an hour a day if that is more to your needs. Remember when you have your info to go back to that place and start writing about it. This would be in your first draft so don’t worry if it isn’t all “perfect.” Time to fix it later. You’ll do great. Happy hunting.

 

Since when do we take nouns and make them verbs? Don’t we have real words that we can use? ~Mary, GA

Hi Mary. I’m going to confess your question made me laugh. I often complain about language and how it’s used by others. In this case, I think I see what you mean. For example, author becomes “authoring,” right? And the one that bugs me is “adult” becomes “adulating.” It is curious how words become fads and then go mainstream so fast. But sometimes there just aren’t any words that accurately describe a thing. Take “groovy.”  The word was a jazz term in the 1920’s and mean the player was “in the groove” of the music which came when vinyl records were produced. When the music was “swinging” or “in the pocket” it was in the groove (as in the lay of the record). So in the 60’s, the word matched the feel of a new generation of music and once again, it described the sensation but for a new style of music. It was still the same word but with a new generation of applied feeling. So it is with authoring. I suppose you can say “I’m working on my author duties,” or “I’m making my plans for selling books” but in the spirt of being to the point and succinct, authoring will do. I’ve done the same with words. I’ve used this technique in poetry with great success, Check out my poems The Paper Cut Murder or The Hangnail Prison.  My word “dump-trucked” drew lots of laughter but my book PAPER BONES won awards. I think you should try your hand at creating new words for what you need to say. And I will agree – we say “authoring” and “adulting” waaaay too much. I’m going to make a note for myself. Thanks!

Paper Bones poetry by Sherry RentschlerThere’s too much to learn and I just want to write. ~Chrystal, TN

Oh I feel this one! I have said the same thing, Chrystal. Writers, as with any profession, are constantly learning their craft. Writing isn’t something you learn once and then go write. Formatting always changes, style changes, even how to write effective dialogue improves and sharpens. Strong writers are plugged into trade magazines, editors, blogs, conferences, groups, and books for the never-ending plethora of writing advice. There are moments, I know, when you feel as though you haven’t learned anything and get frustrated. Happens to everyone. Just keep writing. Practice what you’re learning by doing some writing exercises every day. Like every athlete works out, so you can work out your writing muscles to help make what you are learning become what you are writing. Never stop learning. Stay up-to-date. But never stop writing. You’ll get a rhythm and eventually, the exhaustive reading/learning becomes a part of you. Stay focused.

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Thanks for writing! If I didn’t answer your question here, you probably got an email from me. I like hearing from you, so keep those thoughts coming! Feel free to use the Contact Me form to reach out.

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UPDATES: ** Work progresses on the new book, LOVE AND BLOOD. I took some time off to be sure I was going in the direction I planned and I’ve been working steadily since mid-February. 

**I’m also doing work on some “vignettes” — short “moments” that take place inside stories that don’t make it into books or character insights that are simply fun and not valuable in the main stories. These partial mini-stories help to understand characters and put some events into context. I would like to have these out this year, too.

**Don’t forget to follow me on Instagram. Every Monday I showcase a new pen. I see a book coming on my pens after a year of them (they end late summer, so it will be late this year or early next year for the picture book).

**FACEBOOK LIVE! The monthly chat will Mar 24. Don’t miss out on the fun. I’m giving away some goodies.

As always, thanks for coming by.
I remain, Yours Between the Lines,
Sherry