Variations of Poetry

Wanting to try my hand at Haiku I contemplated the origins of this style of poetry playing with various images. Because this type of writing came from Japan I focused on two strong images that have long been associated with Japanese history.

Pink cherry blossoms

Dancing in the night’s shadows.

The moon smiles her joy.

Samurai Warrior

Bold and indestructible.

Are you also wise?

The first image that came to me was that of the gentle, fragrant cherry blossom. Wanting to contrast that delicacy, I wrote the second one that evokes quite the opposite image. The last line of the Samurai Warrior was another play on contrast. Is it wise to be only strong, or is it a strong person who is wise?

My father was the ‘King of Puns and Limericks’ in our household. He taught me the fun of rhyme through his nonsensical limericks. In fact I recall once getting into trouble with him because he heard me loudly chanting a not so nice limerick at a neighborhood boy whom I was not fond of. It raised a great round of laughter from the rest of the gang hanging out that day, along with my dad’s temper. I won’t repeat that here, however I have one that I will substitute instead, and one that many poker players may relate to.

Gambling

I once knew a fine, young gent,

Whose money was often spent;

He gambled away

His savings each day,

And soon had nary a cent.

The thing that I remember most about limericks is that there is a bit of truth or wisdom within the comical humor.

Close to the limerick is a poem that is just for fun, not really having any deep meaning to it, but mostly rhyming words. Of course, not all nonsensical poems have to rhyme. Some are filled with made up words that sound great saying aloud…or tongue twisters that fill the page. Two children’s authors come to mind when I think of this style: Dr. Seuss, and Shel Silverstein, who wrote, among other books, Where the sidewalk ends.

In my version of the nonsensical poem I attempt to create the image of the old, honoring the era of Mother Goose.

Nursery Rhyme Time

Hey Diddle Diddle,

The Cat and the Fiddle,

Was a crazy, old nursery rhyme.

The kids would all giggle,

And then start to wiggle,

And, they all had a jolly, good time.

In one final poem example I wrote this as an exercise to see how it would develop, with the intention of letting the last word be the word that would start the next sentence. I was surprised at the outcome, after two weeks of playing with the words and letting it sit untouched before resuming the play.

I began the first draft from my travels through the back country roads in North Carolina. I regularly pass the tobacco and cotton fields and enjoyed watching the process of the cotton growing, and then being harvested. It is a far cry from the back breaking work under a grueling sun during the years of slavery. Now, machines make the work more efficient and with just a few workers. Regardless, the image of the white cotton ball atop the brown bush threw a sentence in my head that was the beginning of a poem: white cotton growing.

Draft #1, (mid-November),

White cotton growing

Growing taller every day

Day to day business,

Business going underground,

Ground to the bones.

Bone tired all the time.

Time can’t return…

Return to me my love.

Dissatisfied with the middle of the first draft I dug into the sentences, choosing other words to follow the same theme.

Draft #2

White cotton growing

Growing taller every day!

Day break brings the workers-

Workers in the fields

Fields of white become bare

Bare with me, my love

Love is like white cotton.

I quickly realized I was using the homonym for the word ‘bear’ so I had to change that line.

Draft #3

White cotton growing

Growing taller every day

Day break brings the men,

Men working the fields.

Fields of white become bare

Bare and alone is my love.

Love is like white cotton.

As the poem started to take shape, I noticed the images creating a theme that I wanted to keep: the men in the fields, the cotton bushes, etc. in comparison to the first draft where the words had no meaning relative to each other. And, in Draft #3, this gem of a sentence came forth: ‘love is like white cotton’. Like an electrical shock that ran through me I knew this was the core of the poem. The ‘rock’ had been chiseled away to reveal the sculptured piece. Here is the final draft and the completed poem:

Love is like White Cotton



Love is like white cotton

Cotton-growing taller every day!

Day break brings the men,

(Men who work the fields).

Fields of white disappear…

Disappear with me, my love.

Love is like white cotton.

Written by Denise Handlon, November 20, 2011. No portion of this original poem may be copied, printed, or reproduced in any way without the written permission of the author.