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The “rules” of poetry

When people first hear the word poetry…

beside the notion of eloquent language and the concept of emotional sensitivity coming to mind, they might often think about this form of literature as being filled with rules and structural regulations.

While classically poetry has had it’s share of rigidity and intense structure, this is not always necessarily the case.  For example, slam poetry would probably drive someone from the Renaissance era insane.

Personally, I believe that good poetry is not so much about structure and form as it is about emotion and the ability to convey a concept not easily stated in any other way. Hence the reason that I, and many others, do not always follow the so-called rules.

First and foremost, poetry is an art and as such should not be constrained. We all need to have our own rules to some extent.

My personal rules and guidelines

1. I either use rhyme or not. It seems clumsy and awkward to switch between the two in the same poem.

2. When I use rhyme, I tend to rhyme in a pattern of matching up either the first and third/second and fourth lines or a stanza of lines one and two then three and four.

3. I generally write 3-5 line stanzas

4. Modern free verse has always been a great stylistic friend

5. I rarely punctuate except for emphasis with a question mark or exclamation point or to separate items in a series with a comma

I figure hey, what the heck? After all, E.E. Cummings was known for his unorthodox and grammatically flexible style while the great William Shakespeare literally made up hundreds if not thousands of words.

images

Courtesy of Wikipedia

Comedy for writers

While comedy is in and of itself a form of art, as a writer, I have a special place in my heart for those who create comedic content about writing and writers. Check out these funnies for something to tickle your lighter side.

As seen on Pinterest:

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Subculture Story (A poem)

If you have a “freak flag”

Let it Fly

What good is denying

Who you are inside

 

If you look different

From all the rest

Celebrate your image

And revel in your uniqueness

 

Whether your skin be alabaster

Or your hair neon green

Let your true colors

Always be seen

 

A few great tools for writers

Listen up fellow writers.

When it comes to academic writing specifically, we’ve all had that experience of putting together a good old bibliography. Honestly, this was always one of the biggest pain in the a#@ parts of the entire process. In fact, it wouldn’t really be a stretch to say that on some occasions, putting together the bibliography took darn near as long as writing the paper or essay itself.

What if there was a way to nearly bypass this tedious task or at least make it a lot faster? Well, there is, enter the site Easybib.

Easybib

So, maybe you don’t work with academic writing.  Maybe you’re more into writing poetry books or novels. No matter what you write, grammar is always important. This brings me to the second tool I’d like to share – Grammarly.

The name is pretty straight forward in regard to its function. The site checks your gammar on a much more intense level than any basic word processor and can even aid in working with the book publishing process.

Grammarly

Give these a try today.

First attempt at fan fiction

Hunger Games – Divergent Crossover Part 1

After the Quarter Quell, Katniss had no choice but to go into hiding. The Capitol was sure to punish her severely for destroying the dome that encased the battlefield. She had to help Peeta, if in fact he was still alive. But not without a strategy, which would take time.

Having remembered the words Mags had told her, she pressed on to what may be her only hope. Before she died in the games, Mags had seen something in Katniss. And when she did, she felt compelled to share a story few knew and even fewer ever dared to speak. Those who knew where among the oldest in Panem and had only heard the stories from relatives long since gone.

She told her that somewhere out in the remote areas of District 8, stands a region onto itself, separated from the rest of Panem in its isolation and the existence of which few knew about. This region was said to be called Chicago.

It was told that this Chicago was once part of Panem but the citizens began a civil war, battling among themselves. It became so much of a problem for the Capitol that they eventually decided to wash their hands of having any dealings with the area. They were left alone, to either govern, or more likely destroy, themselves and their land.

Could it be that this unknown land, if it even existed, was Katniss’ only refuge? She had to find out for sure.

So after a long journey Katniss found herself standing in a barren wasteland, nothing but tree stumps and dusty earth before her. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, she felt in her heart that she must be getting close.

Once she was discovered to be a Divergent, Tris became a refugee, running from the very people she once joined as a member of Dauntless as well as all of the other factions including the one of her birth.

At least once each day, even despite the warnings of her lone companion Four, Tris would make her way to the massive fences that surrounded the city. She’d wonder if she might rather face the unknown outside rather than continue to hide among the citizen of her city.

She kept in contact with Christina and a few Dauntless but was careful never to approach anyone she didn’t trust implicitly.

But it was today that all that would change.

Tris stood along the path of the rusted fence and peered out into the distance like she had done so many times before. But this time, something was different. For the first time, she thought she saw something no someone, in the distance. It was a small figure walking upright – human? Perhaps a young woman? Little did she know that in just hours, she would meet the only person she had ever seen beyond the fence, a girl named Katniss.

Ballad of Me

Guest post by Clara Littleton

 

I am a girl, pretty and fair.

I like to wear flowers in my hair.

I care and Share with all I meet.

I worry about all the people without enough to eat.

I am a woman and think with my heart,

by this is only a very ..very small part.

 

Some days…. many days….

When this is me….

I want to race cars, climb mountains and play baseball.

these are the days I dread….

when the words come that I don’t like,

I don’t like them at all.

 

Dyke, bitch, confused and not doing my part.

Now that I think back, not so much.

The names are here no matter the garb.

Tom boy, whore

Biker bitch, tease

My long dress, they think I cover for shame.

Too long or too short,

look at those clothes. She’s such as slut.

 

She must be selling something, I bet it’s free.

Tits too small, or too big. They bet they’re fake

They stop and stare.

Is it my clothes, maybe my hair?

I wonder why they are still standing there.

I turn away.

I want to fight back.

I want to scream,

but these same venomous words are all that is available to me.

To label me.

 

Not girl enough, too much a boy.

I dance with spiders and snakes.

Sometimes they assume it’s all a fake.

Is it because I am a girl?….

To the man crying out to be allowed to feel.

This all makes my head whorl.

From the men too, pride they steal.

 

Rare day they dare,

To ask me, to be fair?

What label may we address?

I’m always caught so unaware.

Bo, girl, femme, masculine,

modest, outrageous, too skinny, tooo fat,

I sometimes forget where I’m at.

 

Lost in what I might be called,

They ask again, wanting to know it all.

I sigh, the words don’t mean a damn.

Not to me, or these people who have set me free

from these labels, schemes and plots.

They ask again, what label do you want?

 

Finally, I look up, filled with dread.

I feel sad and mad and wish I’d fled.

I contemplate one moment,

the words still flying free.

If you want to label me…

I remind them of civility.

Label me please but with the label I want….

Stop playing this game,

for the label YOU want.

For everyone it’s simply the same.

I just want you to ask for my name.

About the poet:

Carla is an accomplished educator and art enthusiast who also owns and operates her own artistic services and jewelry business Archaeotype Designs.

Unrestricted (A Poem)

This new poem was written while on vacation in beautiful central North Carolina, I hope you enjoy it.

Unrestricted

Unrestricted by restrictive things

In nature’s realm from all things set free

Whether dawn or eve

What else can compare

To walking with feet upon the grass

And between trees reaching for the air

Nature shot by werner22brigitte

Nature shot by werner22brigitte

 

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