- Notes on OPEN-FORM
Poetry
Open-form poetry rejects the
organization and structure found in traditional poetry such as
sonnets and haiku. Open poetry — including chance poetry,
Surrealism, and free verse — use experimental techniques that blast
open the possibilities of words on the printed page.
The open form is a form. When
you use the open form, you start to impose on your poem — and
yourself — all sorts of rules. You won't know what they are until
you get there, however, because each poem is its own form.
Think of open-form poetry as a way of
thinking — an especially intense awareness of every single aspect of
the poem, from subject and tone to music and rhythm, from the
physical shape of the poem to the length (in space and in time) of
the lines, from the grammar you use to the parts of speech.
When you write an
open-form poem, try to be very conscious. Everything in the poem,
every feature, every aspect, must have a reason for being there. Be
conscious of the following:
-
Economy. Cram as much energy as
possible into each word. Cut everything that doesn't absolutely
need to be there.
-
Grammar and syntax. Are you always
using complete sentences? Well, that's fine — but you could also
do it another way. Decide whether you have a reason to write in
complete sentences for this poem. If you can come up with a
reason, fine. If not, consider alternatives — bursts of words,
single words, word fragments. And who says you have to use
"proper" grammar? Or punctuation? Try breaking a few rules, if
that improves the poem.
-
Parts
of speech. Some teachers say you
shouldn't use adjectives or adverbs; they prefer nouns and verbs
instead. That's an excellent starting point: Use only the words
you need. If all you're doing is prettifying something, forget
it. Use adjectives only when they're surprising ("your green
voice"), contradictory ("aggressive modesty"), or give
information the reader simply can't get elsewhere ("It was a
Welsh ferret" — how else would we know a ferret was Welsh?).
-
Rhythms. Look at the rhythms in your
lines. Does the rhythm of the line contribute to its meaning?
Anything sing-songy? If so, is it good that it's sing-songy?
Often, open-form verse falls into iambs (a group of syllables
consisting of an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed
syllable, as in "alas!") and dactyls (one stressed syllable
followed by two unstressed, as in "penetrate"). Don't let this
happen unless there is a reason for it.
-
The
physical lengths (the number syllables and the actual length) of
the lines you use. Avoid falling into
exactly the same lengths. Every length should have a reason
behind it.
-
The
length (in time) it takes to read each line aloud.
If each line takes about the same number of
seconds, figure out whether there's a reason for it. If there
isn't, consider other shapes and lengths.
-
Line
endings. Poets realize that line
endings carry a certain emphasis or pressure. Your lines should
end where they end for some reason. The way a line ends — where,
and after what word or punctuation mark — should be the best way
to end. Do you want a pause there? What's going to happen when
your readers go to the next line? Something unexpected? Some
surprise?
Read a lot of
open-form verse, and you'll notice that poets use a great deal
of enjambment, winding the words around the ends of lines
in gorgeous and meaningful ways.
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