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Intrinsic Differences, by Laura Tattoo
You are adamant, you want answers!
You rally reason from wreck, put out inchy
feelers, scrutinize pharmacologic text,
then proffer cures like colored seeds to birds.
I'm intransigent; I swear I've tried it, all of it!
I've spent thousands on gels, mincemeats and frills
and still I'm sexless; I peck among the rhetoric,
swallow limpid jewels, rise a shadow of myself.
Spilling over this thirsty landscape, we're all
dry as dinosaurs and old as hills;
we've got loser libidos and sinewy sloughs,
we've got what we paid for and we're thirsty still.
You are a maestro of bird song with all that hope,
singer of Ode to Joy in the cafe dawn, you thrill:
I'm torn down in the book of Psalms, I sin,
for I can't wait for a god to call me home
And end this senseless race for cure,
another muck-muck run of luck
that seeps into deep caverns of my skin,
absorbed in the big pores of my nihilism.
This poem dramatically contrasts, with an attitude, the salutary and optimistic outlook of an unnamed individual with that of the narrator’s bitter, if not hopeless sense of futility, apparently due to an incurable ailment. Near the middle of the poem, a single stanza serves to universalize (almost parenthetically) this perceived futility in human suffering. The poem then quickly reverts back to its sardonic rant against a person who is characterized as one with hope and joy, and possessing some measure of faith. This contrasting imagery forms the basis for a poem illustrating the depth of suffering, in part, by its contrast to its opposite.
Composed of five fairly uniform quatrains, the poem has an unusual rhyming structure with an emphasis on a repeating end-rhyme: 'frills', 'hills', 'still', 'thrill', in addition to the quirky paired rhyme, 'muck-muck run of luck'. As well, an additional end-rhyme occurs (sin/skin) separated by three unrhymed lines. These uneven rhythms provide an order and otherwise structured tone to a poem which, without them, might have become heavy with its hard tone. Interestingly, the poem ends on a fascinating near rhyme couplet of skin/nihilism.
These rhymes add a lyrical quality to a fairly heavy-handed and deliberate poem. The poem is also lifted out of an otherwise negative tone by some excellent alliteration: ‘rally reason from wreck,’ ‘dry as dinosaurs,’ ‘loser libidos,’ and ‘sinewy sloughs.’
The poem opens declaratively, addressing a person the speaker obviously knows well, in an accusatory tone, “You are adamant, you want answers!” This sets the tone for the poem and ushers in the notion of certainty and the speaker’s frustration with an individual who may not understand or have a basis for empathy in their experience. This person who rallies ‘reason from wreck,’ is obviously aware of the speaker’s problems, which appear to be rooted in some serious physical impairment or disease (reference to 'pharmacologic text', 'proffer cures'). However, the speaker has heard all of this and declares herself intransigent, unable to change (or be changed). It is clear, early on in the poem, that there is a history of suffering and striving, of failing to get better in the face of injurious therapeutic regimes (‘I've spent thousands on gels, mincemeats and frills,; ‘I’m still sexless,’ and, ‘swallow limpid jewels, rise a shadow of myself’).
The third stanza brings the reader into the fray. No more is this is solely an argument between the speaker and another party. “We're all dry as dinosaurs and old as hills/ We've got loser libidos and sinewy sloughs/ We've got what we paid for and we're thirsty still.” This appears to be a reference to possible side-effects of some drugs (i.e., drastically affecting libido). In addition, in declaring we get what we pay for and are still thirsty, the speaker implies there is little comfort in costly protocols whose side effects are worse than the curative benefits.
The fourth and fifth stanzas contrast the speaker's despair with the apparent opposite nature of the subject addressed, whose hope sings like a bird, a ‘singer of Ode to Joy,’ in a café: a reference that lets the reader know there is a history here, and brings attention to perhaps a specific encounter or discussion that may have formed a basis for the inspiration of the poem. Further, the biblical reference to the Psalms serves to illustrate the depth of the speaker’s suffering (‘I'm torn down in the book of Psalms, I sin') and the the phraseology continues the tone of sarcasm here, pointing out a perceived hypocrisy in a person who is a “maestro of bird song.”
The poem ends by drawing the reader back to the central issue at hand: the speaker’s hopelessness in the face of a disease or condition that apparently has no cure (‘end this senseless race for cure’). Although the speaker makes a reference here to a ‘run of bad luck,’ it is clear that there is a subtext here which remains unresolved. In the face of such devastating effects of physical (and no doubt emotional) exhaustion, the speaker finally withdraws away from a tirade and looks inward, avowing a kind of bleak resignation, if not complicity with her own suffering, which becomes ‘absorbed in the big pores of my nihilism.”
This poem dramatizes the speaker’s highly personal, candid and visceral response to an apparently incurable physical ailment showing profound frustration with an unnamed individual who obviously possesses quite divergent views on the subject. Intimate and ‘intrinsic differences’ in ways of thinking (and feeling) between the speaker and another individual are used to juxtapose the universal struggle against the physical realm, against forces which are resistant to change (i.e. for the better). Though sardonic and intentionally dark, the poem amplifies the speaker’s travail by vividly comparing her own plight with the seemingly joyous (though perhaps callous) temperament of an unnamed individual. It is a poem of despair in which the speaker unabashedly amplifies a kind of intractable anguish (and angst) and finally accepts blame, after a fashion, in the personal recognition of nihilistic hopelessness. While this may be a poem easily panned by those without a context for years of suffering, it will, conversely, find resonance for many who find identification in their experience for the bleak harsh realities of human suffering.
Laura Tattoo was inspired, early on, to write poetry by the likes of Dr. Seuss, Edna St. Vincent Millay, and Shakespeare, but feels she discovered it much more by simply living it. In her twenties she studied English and French at Portland State University where she won the Nina Mae Kellogg award for best senior student in English. Between then and now, she has written several volumes of poetry in both English and French, and at 51 is seeking to publish and share her work. Originally from New York and Massachusetts, Laura now divides her time between her home in Astoria, Oregon, and long sojourns in Paris, France.
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Monday, May 5, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Art and Science and A Robin
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All art presupposes some degree of scientific method. All science begins with the art of ideas. Looking out my kitchen window I see a robin. I am aware, as I watch it gently tamp the grass with both feet while at the same time making the most pleasant, airy chirps a bird can make- that I'm writing a poem of a painting.
I try to imagine this painting of a robin in its own poem, with its own premise. The robin's premise, in my poem, is sound. The breezy refrain in her song, the lack of sound in her gliding footfall across my lawn. I jot down a few lines. My words, together with their syntactic foundation, form a premise whenever I assemble them together to say something. They always aim at something, however grandiose or base, however monumental or trivial; and they always bear the subtle fruit of some kind of methodological approach, however unclear it may be to either me or the reader.
The robin must know, better than I, what she is about. But since she can't tell me in words, I have to rely on other senses to inform. And when I want to write of death, or global warming, or a disquieting conversation with a neighbor (in a poem, for example), I get to remember the sound the robin made through its tiny beak, or its silent, frustrating foray through my grass, finding no worms.
This word picture may reasonably find its way into my thinking at any moment, without ever using diagnostic words relating to the robin. Importantly, however, while pleasing to the psyche and sometimes to the heart, this approach can fall short in providing absolute information. I may speak much of a robin, but I may say less of Robin. I may describe her demeanor and talk about her successes and failures, and relate them to my own, and you may find something in the delineation of my robin that you hadn't seen in your robin. Still, we may widely disagree. This amounts to a kind of Wikipedia entry for a robin. If enough of us write robin poems and enough of us interact with each others work, we may come to understand more and more about the robin. This is beginning to sound like science.
In fact, this is about all that science purports to accomplish. It aims to observe, to write about those observations, and to make conclusions based on these observations. It aims to submit these findings to some sort of Wikipedia, some bulletin board of review, so that others can comment, agree, admire, disagree and, yes, denigrate (in a civil sort of academic way, of course!).
These methods, whether of art or science, have their own peculiar aspects of inquiry, observation, examination, discussion, conclusion and/or qualia of experience. Whether describing atmospheric pressure in a balloon, or the circular perambulations of a robin in a poem, it is necessary to make assumptions and reason your way through them toward a semblance of conclusion. Even in absurdist poetry, one is clearly making a statement based on random or nonsensical premises.
Science need not be rigorous and restricted to nomenclature to be scientific inquiry, just as art need not be diffuse and metaphorical to be artistic; we fool ourselves to think we live and operate in a world where we don't commonly think, project and/or imagine, using very distinct patterns of logic and mechanistic inquiry. These patterns of thought are subject to both our own scrutiny, as well as the scrutiny of others. To say that we can approach a definition in our art, is not to deny any kind of mystical or emotional basis to that art. Quite the converse, we give more credence to our art as it touches the senses and the supra-sense, when we acknowledge that it has a basis in reason, as opposed to being on the fringe of reason, or outside of experience altogether.
Scientific method does not (nor has it ever intended to) war against art, and vice versa. But rather, the two coexist, right beside each other, benefiting in a mutual and symbiotic process of declaration, understanding and enlightenment.
.
All art presupposes some degree of scientific method. All science begins with the art of ideas. Looking out my kitchen window I see a robin. I am aware, as I watch it gently tamp the grass with both feet while at the same time making the most pleasant, airy chirps a bird can make- that I'm writing a poem of a painting.
I try to imagine this painting of a robin in its own poem, with its own premise. The robin's premise, in my poem, is sound. The breezy refrain in her song, the lack of sound in her gliding footfall across my lawn. I jot down a few lines. My words, together with their syntactic foundation, form a premise whenever I assemble them together to say something. They always aim at something, however grandiose or base, however monumental or trivial; and they always bear the subtle fruit of some kind of methodological approach, however unclear it may be to either me or the reader.
The robin must know, better than I, what she is about. But since she can't tell me in words, I have to rely on other senses to inform. And when I want to write of death, or global warming, or a disquieting conversation with a neighbor (in a poem, for example), I get to remember the sound the robin made through its tiny beak, or its silent, frustrating foray through my grass, finding no worms.
This word picture may reasonably find its way into my thinking at any moment, without ever using diagnostic words relating to the robin. Importantly, however, while pleasing to the psyche and sometimes to the heart, this approach can fall short in providing absolute information. I may speak much of a robin, but I may say less of Robin. I may describe her demeanor and talk about her successes and failures, and relate them to my own, and you may find something in the delineation of my robin that you hadn't seen in your robin. Still, we may widely disagree. This amounts to a kind of Wikipedia entry for a robin. If enough of us write robin poems and enough of us interact with each others work, we may come to understand more and more about the robin. This is beginning to sound like science.
In fact, this is about all that science purports to accomplish. It aims to observe, to write about those observations, and to make conclusions based on these observations. It aims to submit these findings to some sort of Wikipedia, some bulletin board of review, so that others can comment, agree, admire, disagree and, yes, denigrate (in a civil sort of academic way, of course!).
These methods, whether of art or science, have their own peculiar aspects of inquiry, observation, examination, discussion, conclusion and/or qualia of experience. Whether describing atmospheric pressure in a balloon, or the circular perambulations of a robin in a poem, it is necessary to make assumptions and reason your way through them toward a semblance of conclusion. Even in absurdist poetry, one is clearly making a statement based on random or nonsensical premises.
Science need not be rigorous and restricted to nomenclature to be scientific inquiry, just as art need not be diffuse and metaphorical to be artistic; we fool ourselves to think we live and operate in a world where we don't commonly think, project and/or imagine, using very distinct patterns of logic and mechanistic inquiry. These patterns of thought are subject to both our own scrutiny, as well as the scrutiny of others. To say that we can approach a definition in our art, is not to deny any kind of mystical or emotional basis to that art. Quite the converse, we give more credence to our art as it touches the senses and the supra-sense, when we acknowledge that it has a basis in reason, as opposed to being on the fringe of reason, or outside of experience altogether.
Scientific method does not (nor has it ever intended to) war against art, and vice versa. But rather, the two coexist, right beside each other, benefiting in a mutual and symbiotic process of declaration, understanding and enlightenment.
.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Poetry Competition
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Announcing a poetry competition. Submit your poems to me personally at: enudelman@msn.com
I will review all poems and once a month I will select one to appear on this blog with an introduction about the author and a short explication (by me) of the poem. Hopefully, this will generate excitement and comments for each poem selected. I look forward to receiving your submissions.
Simply email the poem IN THE BODY OF THE EMAIL (I would prefer to not receive attachments) with the subject simply saying "poetry submission," or something similar. Please don't expect an answer to the submission by email.
Warm regards,
Edward Nudelman
.
Announcing a poetry competition. Submit your poems to me personally at: enudelman@msn.com
I will review all poems and once a month I will select one to appear on this blog with an introduction about the author and a short explication (by me) of the poem. Hopefully, this will generate excitement and comments for each poem selected. I look forward to receiving your submissions.
Simply email the poem IN THE BODY OF THE EMAIL (I would prefer to not receive attachments) with the subject simply saying "poetry submission," or something similar. Please don't expect an answer to the submission by email.
Warm regards,
Edward Nudelman
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Saturday, March 22, 2008
Get Real: Vetting Your Work
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Get Real: Vetting Your Work
Are you a human being?
If yes, continue. If no, go plug yourself into a socket.
Are you interested in writing?
If yes, continue. If no, go work on a crossword puzzle.
Are you interested in someday publishing, in any way shape or form?
If yes, continue. If no, go find a snack.
Okay, if you said no, I’ll give you one more chance.
If not interested in publishing, what about interest in having more than one person on the planet read your work (not counting you)?
If yes, you may continue. If no, bite me.
Are you interested in putting the ‘best’ product out there?
If yes, continue. If no, go write a poem about angels using 14 mixed metaphors.
Now the capper!
Have you vetted your work?
If no, read on.
If…not sure what vet means- you definitely should continue. If yes, go ahead and read it anyway; as my Yiddish grammy used to say, “it voodn’t hurt!”
Definition of vet.. to subject to thorough examination or evaluation: vet a manuscript.
Okay, that was a bit harsh. But you get the idea. Or maybe you don’t have a clue where I’m going, but the hook was so good, you’re willing to read at least one more paragraph.
I’m going to approach this a little sideways, and perhaps by the end you’ll get some idea of what I’m trying to say. I’m a scientist, by profession (I write poetry too). I think I can say that awful word (scientist) with some degree of certainty, partly because I’ve worked in a laboratory for over 25 years, but also because I’ve published over 60 papers in peer-reviewed journals. Before you get all ruffled and think this is yet another academic snob spewing forth self-righteous self-accolades, let me quickly tell you I have no multiple initials following my name. I’ve no masters, I’ve no PhD, but I do have over 60 papers published in peer-reviewed journals (obnoxious for effect). I personally think that means a lot more than a degree. I also think degrees mean something, but not always. I’ve seen an awful lot of pretty inept PhD’s float through our labs, some that can’t pipet squat, others that can’t think their way out of a test tube, still others quite incapable of holding a conversation with anything but a computer screen and/or a pencil.
One thing remains clear. When I want to know what’s up in the lab, how to plan an experiment, where to insert a gene, how long to incubate an enzyme reaction, I do one thing almost exclusively: I consult a published paper. So, what’s so terrible about that? What I’m doing is relying on past experience. On collective experience that has stood the test of time as well as multiple reviews and peer-vetting. That’s a good thing. And when I do that, I don’t just turn to any old journal. I consult the best indexes, choose the best journals, as universally accepted by my colleagues. Then I find the journal article that best relates to the problem at hand. I trust the findings (insofar as reason allows), because the research has been reviewed (vetted) beforehand by a team of experts. (There you go, cringing again!) I know experts is a dirty word. And it gets worse when you invoke: a team of experts. But what’s wrong with the idea? Is there a better alternative? Should we consult a team of beginners? I don’t think we’d do that with our medical problems.
In science, there's a huge spectrum of journals in which one can be published. Some are universally recognized as being top tier journals, others have more loose qualifications and prerequisites, and some lower end journals you just don’t want to be seen in. But, for the most part, to be published in a scientific journal, one’s work must be vetted by a board of reviewers chosen by the editorial board to be proficient in the area which the investigation is reporting. This makes for a highly competitive and rigorous acceptance protocol the net result of which is a high degree of veracity and reliability of the final product. I’ve participated in many, many rounds of the review process. It’s really quite fascinating, and there’s a good deal of plasticity built into the system. Reviewers interact with the submitters and edits are made along the road to publication. That’s a good thing, and there’s really no equivalent, that I’ve found, in other disciplines. Without benchmark standards, we don’t have criteria to judge what is good and what is bad.
I want to draw a comparison between vetting scientific work (by submitting to journals) and vetting your writing. The former is rigorous and pretty established. You have clear cut options. The latter, vetting your writing, is a much more nebulous proposition, and one needs to be careful in drawing similar conclusions about what is art, versus what is science, for example.
On should strive to have their writing viewed by a discriminating eye if one wishes to improve. To settle for anything less is to settle for deception, a path of least resistance accommodated by many a writer, including yours truly. But it’s worth it to go the extra mile and look for a friend or associate you trust who can give you candid and discerning feedback without a sugar coating. Further, one should always take casual praising with a huge shaker full of salt. It’s good to get it. But too much can be intoxicating. In online forums, especially, it can be an all-consuming opiate (see above flowchart if I’m losing you here… remember, if you don’t want to publish, feel free to get a Reader’s Digest and turn on the tube).
I think the problem is not that one can’t find suitable avenues to vet your work, but more that one is not, ultimately, really interested or prepared to take that kind of input and use it to a worthwhile end. It may seem like an obstacle, but it doesn’t take long to get used to critical remarks, especially from a friend or associate sharing your common interest to improve a craft.
Extrapolating from informed friends, internet groups and writing forums to- heaven forbid- journal editors or publishing houses may seem daunting, but take heart! You take the steps necessary to walk as far as you want to go. If you want to be good, and you want to be read, you’ll work hard to improve, vet your work, seek earnest and critical feedback, and finally, if you really have the stomach for it, you’ll vet your work to publishers, and work your way up the feeding chain. Some of you will go right to the top. Most, if you’re like me, will find you’re not as good as you had hoped or dreamed… but you'll land on your feet and have as much ink as you need. At least you’re walking in the real world. Planet earth, last time I checked.
.
.
Get Real: Vetting Your Work
Are you a human being?
If yes, continue. If no, go plug yourself into a socket.
Are you interested in writing?
If yes, continue. If no, go work on a crossword puzzle.
Are you interested in someday publishing, in any way shape or form?
If yes, continue. If no, go find a snack.
Okay, if you said no, I’ll give you one more chance.
If not interested in publishing, what about interest in having more than one person on the planet read your work (not counting you)?
If yes, you may continue. If no, bite me.
Are you interested in putting the ‘best’ product out there?
If yes, continue. If no, go write a poem about angels using 14 mixed metaphors.
Now the capper!
Have you vetted your work?
If no, read on.
If…not sure what vet means- you definitely should continue. If yes, go ahead and read it anyway; as my Yiddish grammy used to say, “it voodn’t hurt!”
Definition of vet.. to subject to thorough examination or evaluation: vet a manuscript.
Okay, that was a bit harsh. But you get the idea. Or maybe you don’t have a clue where I’m going, but the hook was so good, you’re willing to read at least one more paragraph.
I’m going to approach this a little sideways, and perhaps by the end you’ll get some idea of what I’m trying to say. I’m a scientist, by profession (I write poetry too). I think I can say that awful word (scientist) with some degree of certainty, partly because I’ve worked in a laboratory for over 25 years, but also because I’ve published over 60 papers in peer-reviewed journals. Before you get all ruffled and think this is yet another academic snob spewing forth self-righteous self-accolades, let me quickly tell you I have no multiple initials following my name. I’ve no masters, I’ve no PhD, but I do have over 60 papers published in peer-reviewed journals (obnoxious for effect). I personally think that means a lot more than a degree. I also think degrees mean something, but not always. I’ve seen an awful lot of pretty inept PhD’s float through our labs, some that can’t pipet squat, others that can’t think their way out of a test tube, still others quite incapable of holding a conversation with anything but a computer screen and/or a pencil.
One thing remains clear. When I want to know what’s up in the lab, how to plan an experiment, where to insert a gene, how long to incubate an enzyme reaction, I do one thing almost exclusively: I consult a published paper. So, what’s so terrible about that? What I’m doing is relying on past experience. On collective experience that has stood the test of time as well as multiple reviews and peer-vetting. That’s a good thing. And when I do that, I don’t just turn to any old journal. I consult the best indexes, choose the best journals, as universally accepted by my colleagues. Then I find the journal article that best relates to the problem at hand. I trust the findings (insofar as reason allows), because the research has been reviewed (vetted) beforehand by a team of experts. (There you go, cringing again!) I know experts is a dirty word. And it gets worse when you invoke: a team of experts. But what’s wrong with the idea? Is there a better alternative? Should we consult a team of beginners? I don’t think we’d do that with our medical problems.
In science, there's a huge spectrum of journals in which one can be published. Some are universally recognized as being top tier journals, others have more loose qualifications and prerequisites, and some lower end journals you just don’t want to be seen in. But, for the most part, to be published in a scientific journal, one’s work must be vetted by a board of reviewers chosen by the editorial board to be proficient in the area which the investigation is reporting. This makes for a highly competitive and rigorous acceptance protocol the net result of which is a high degree of veracity and reliability of the final product. I’ve participated in many, many rounds of the review process. It’s really quite fascinating, and there’s a good deal of plasticity built into the system. Reviewers interact with the submitters and edits are made along the road to publication. That’s a good thing, and there’s really no equivalent, that I’ve found, in other disciplines. Without benchmark standards, we don’t have criteria to judge what is good and what is bad.
I want to draw a comparison between vetting scientific work (by submitting to journals) and vetting your writing. The former is rigorous and pretty established. You have clear cut options. The latter, vetting your writing, is a much more nebulous proposition, and one needs to be careful in drawing similar conclusions about what is art, versus what is science, for example.
On should strive to have their writing viewed by a discriminating eye if one wishes to improve. To settle for anything less is to settle for deception, a path of least resistance accommodated by many a writer, including yours truly. But it’s worth it to go the extra mile and look for a friend or associate you trust who can give you candid and discerning feedback without a sugar coating. Further, one should always take casual praising with a huge shaker full of salt. It’s good to get it. But too much can be intoxicating. In online forums, especially, it can be an all-consuming opiate (see above flowchart if I’m losing you here… remember, if you don’t want to publish, feel free to get a Reader’s Digest and turn on the tube).
I think the problem is not that one can’t find suitable avenues to vet your work, but more that one is not, ultimately, really interested or prepared to take that kind of input and use it to a worthwhile end. It may seem like an obstacle, but it doesn’t take long to get used to critical remarks, especially from a friend or associate sharing your common interest to improve a craft.
Extrapolating from informed friends, internet groups and writing forums to- heaven forbid- journal editors or publishing houses may seem daunting, but take heart! You take the steps necessary to walk as far as you want to go. If you want to be good, and you want to be read, you’ll work hard to improve, vet your work, seek earnest and critical feedback, and finally, if you really have the stomach for it, you’ll vet your work to publishers, and work your way up the feeding chain. Some of you will go right to the top. Most, if you’re like me, will find you’re not as good as you had hoped or dreamed… but you'll land on your feet and have as much ink as you need. At least you’re walking in the real world. Planet earth, last time I checked.
.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Interviewed in Mipoesias Magazine
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Recently, the editor and founder of Miposesias magazine, Didi Menendez, interviewed poets on Cafe Cafe. You can find it here: Poet Interviews and then navigate around to find other interviews of poets querying poets. It all makes for some very interesting, if not snarky, reading.
.
Recently, the editor and founder of Miposesias magazine, Didi Menendez, interviewed poets on Cafe Cafe. You can find it here: Poet Interviews and then navigate around to find other interviews of poets querying poets. It all makes for some very interesting, if not snarky, reading.
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Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Rockin' Your ABC's
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There is probably no more familiar poetry form than the ABC. These poems, based on the alphabet of any particular language, can take many forms. Commonly termed, the abecedarian, this poetry genre takes its structural architecture, by definition, from the letters of the alphabet. Usually, the poem begins with the first letter of the alphabet and then builds successively, in order, moving through the alphabet from A to Z (i.e., in English).
Early Semitic ABC poems abounded, appearing in religious Hebrew poetry, for example, which centered around sacred practices as early as 1000 B.C. The Hebrew Bible contains many examples of abecedarian poetry. Probably the most acclaimed of these comes from Psalm 119 where the poem is broken up into twenty-two eight-line stanzas, each representing, in order, a successive letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Here is a brief extraction from the poem (NIV Version) where the initial words of the stanza (translated here in English) begins with the corresponding Hebrew letter, as shown in italics below:
In the fifth century, a fascinating abecedarian poem appeared by Coelius Sedulius, a Latin poet, who wrote an ABC to be used as an adjunct to worship. The poem, entitled A solis ortus cardine (click here to view both Latin and English translation) was later transcribed and converted into a hymn by Martin Luther, in 1524.
An early ABC poem in the English language is Chaucer's "La Priere de Nostre Dame" (The Prayer of our Lady), or more commonly dubbed "Chaucer's ABC" (Click here for complete text). The poem is an adaptation of a prayer from an illusory French poem entitled, "La Pelerinaige de la vie humaine," ca. 1330. Here is a link to view a leaf from the original manuscript. The poem is noteworthy as Chaucer blurs the lines of what was considered orthodox 'clerical' poetry using a sensual courtly imagery of love, a practice that became commonplace in medieval poetry.
The earliest primers for children appeared in England in the fifteenth Century, a period predating modern educational institution, and an era without the benefit of materials and resources that later advanced learning so rapidly throughout the Industrial Revolution. These books were termed hornbooks, because they were covered with a thin layer of horn as a protective coating. The hornbook usually came with a wooden handle and had as a prominent feature a graphic representation of the alphabet. The hornbook, along with its paper counterpart, the chapbook, which followed in the seventeenth through nineteenth centuries, often had rudimentary ABC poems as learning instruments for the child.
Probably the most famous American chapbook, the New England Primer, published in Boston, ca. 1688, was full of alphabet rhymes, devices and pictorial teaching devices for children. It soon became a mainstay as a textbook for New Englanders in the eighteenth Century. The New England Primer followed a time-honored tradition used by the early settlers in America using biblical themes and stories as an aid in teaching the alphabet to children. Here is a striking example from the Primer:
William Blake's, London, a poem written in the seventeenth century, deals with the palpable images and sounds of London. One stanza is brilliantly depicted as an acrostic, where the first letters of each word in just one stanza of the poem, spell out the word, "Hear."
Modern ABC poems abound. Perhaps more than any other poets, Dr. Seuss and Edward Gorey (more widely known as artist) popularized this form in the twentieth century. Dr. Seuss's ABC appeared in 1963, an alphabet book where each letter is accompanied by a poem and an ABC rhyme, as well as an illustration. Edward Gorey's poem, "The Gashlycrumb Tinies," is a remarkable achievement, made that much more appealing with Gorey's expressionistic and rather macabre sketches. Here is an excerpt.
You can view the whole poem, with illustrations, by clicking here.
Harryette Mullen is a gifted modern poet who has recently explored the abecedarian in a wonderful and complex poem, included in her book, "Sleeping with the Dictionary." In it we find a 47-page poem, "On Earth," a complex ABC poem adhering not only to order in the stanzas, but also in the words themselves. Here is a link to obtain her book and, in following, a short extraction from the poem:
In case you weren't paying attention, that was the letter "L."
Kate Greenaway, a famous nineteenth century English illustrator of children's books, produced a superb alphabet book at the turn of the nineteenth century, entitled, "A Apple Pie; An Old-Fashioned Book." The work begins coyly:
A Apple Pie
B Bit it
C Cut it
It is now in the public domain, and may be easily viewed, poem and illustrations, in their entirety by clicking here.
A fascinating sub-genre of abecedarian poetry is a poem consisting of only the exact number of words in the given alphabet. Thus, for a poem in the English language, there must be only 26 words, each beginning with a letter of the alphabet. Most are built successively from A to Z, but some very creative poems in this form begin with Z and work in the reverse. One of the more acclaimed poems of this type, by Robert Pinsky, a former U.S. Poet Laureate, is entitled simply, ABC. The poem has a brilliant opening, with a memorable snarky two-line aphorism, which presents letters A-J:
Any body can die, evidently. Few
Go happily, irradiating joy
You can watch and hear Pinsky recite his ABC poem on Youtube by clicking here. This is one of the more power-packed readings of twenty-six words of poetry, in my view, you'll ever hear, and it's introduced by Pinsky with a short but edifying explanation of the abecedarian poetry form.
Here is an ABC poem I recently wrote, entitled, not surprisingly, "ABC."
I have also written several longer ABC poems, including "Animal Alphabet of Collective Nouns" (excerpt below). To view entire poem, click here)
Here's an excerpt from another longer ABC poem I wrote:
You can view the entire poem by clicking here.
.
My alphabet starts with this letter called yuzz. It's the letter I use to spell yuzz-a-ma-tuzz. You'll be sort of surprised what there is to be found once you go beyond 'Z' and start poking around!" -Dr. Seuss
There is probably no more familiar poetry form than the ABC. These poems, based on the alphabet of any particular language, can take many forms. Commonly termed, the abecedarian, this poetry genre takes its structural architecture, by definition, from the letters of the alphabet. Usually, the poem begins with the first letter of the alphabet and then builds successively, in order, moving through the alphabet from A to Z (i.e., in English).
Early Semitic ABC poems abounded, appearing in religious Hebrew poetry, for example, which centered around sacred practices as early as 1000 B.C. The Hebrew Bible contains many examples of abecedarian poetry. Probably the most acclaimed of these comes from Psalm 119 where the poem is broken up into twenty-two eight-line stanzas, each representing, in order, a successive letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Here is a brief extraction from the poem (NIV Version) where the initial words of the stanza (translated here in English) begins with the corresponding Hebrew letter, as shown in italics below:
Aleph
Blessed are those whose ways are blameless,
Who walk according to the law of the Lord.
Blessed are they who keep his statutes...
Bet
How can a young man keep his way pure?
By living according to your word.
I seek you with all my heart...
Gimmel
Do good to your servant, and I will live;
I will obey your word.
Open my eyes that I may see wonderful things...
In the fifth century, a fascinating abecedarian poem appeared by Coelius Sedulius, a Latin poet, who wrote an ABC to be used as an adjunct to worship. The poem, entitled A solis ortus cardine (click here to view both Latin and English translation) was later transcribed and converted into a hymn by Martin Luther, in 1524.
An early ABC poem in the English language is Chaucer's "La Priere de Nostre Dame" (The Prayer of our Lady), or more commonly dubbed "Chaucer's ABC" (Click here for complete text). The poem is an adaptation of a prayer from an illusory French poem entitled, "La Pelerinaige de la vie humaine," ca. 1330. Here is a link to view a leaf from the original manuscript. The poem is noteworthy as Chaucer blurs the lines of what was considered orthodox 'clerical' poetry using a sensual courtly imagery of love, a practice that became commonplace in medieval poetry.
The earliest primers for children appeared in England in the fifteenth Century, a period predating modern educational institution, and an era without the benefit of materials and resources that later advanced learning so rapidly throughout the Industrial Revolution. These books were termed hornbooks, because they were covered with a thin layer of horn as a protective coating. The hornbook usually came with a wooden handle and had as a prominent feature a graphic representation of the alphabet. The hornbook, along with its paper counterpart, the chapbook, which followed in the seventeenth through nineteenth centuries, often had rudimentary ABC poems as learning instruments for the child.
Probably the most famous American chapbook, the New England Primer, published in Boston, ca. 1688, was full of alphabet rhymes, devices and pictorial teaching devices for children. It soon became a mainstay as a textbook for New Englanders in the eighteenth Century. The New England Primer followed a time-honored tradition used by the early settlers in America using biblical themes and stories as an aid in teaching the alphabet to children. Here is a striking example from the Primer:
A.
In Adam's Fall
We sinned all.
B
Thy Life to Mend
This Book Attend.
C
The Cat doth play
And after slay.
D
A Dog will bite
A Thief at night.
E
An Eagle's flight
Is Out of sight.
F
The Idle Fool
Is Whipt at School
William Blake's, London, a poem written in the seventeenth century, deals with the palpable images and sounds of London. One stanza is brilliantly depicted as an acrostic, where the first letters of each word in just one stanza of the poem, spell out the word, "Hear."
How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening church appals,
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.
Modern ABC poems abound. Perhaps more than any other poets, Dr. Seuss and Edward Gorey (more widely known as artist) popularized this form in the twentieth century. Dr. Seuss's ABC appeared in 1963, an alphabet book where each letter is accompanied by a poem and an ABC rhyme, as well as an illustration. Edward Gorey's poem, "The Gashlycrumb Tinies," is a remarkable achievement, made that much more appealing with Gorey's expressionistic and rather macabre sketches. Here is an excerpt.
A is for Amie who fell down the stairs
B is for Basil assaulted by bears
C is for Clara who wasted away
D is for Desmond thrown out of a sleigh
You can view the whole poem, with illustrations, by clicking here.
Harryette Mullen is a gifted modern poet who has recently explored the abecedarian in a wonderful and complex poem, included in her book, "Sleeping with the Dictionary." In it we find a 47-page poem, "On Earth," a complex ABC poem adhering not only to order in the stanzas, but also in the words themselves. Here is a link to obtain her book and, in following, a short extraction from the poem:
languid at the edge of the sea
lays itself open to immensity
leaf-cutter ants bearing yellow trumpet flowers along the road
left everything left all usual worlds behind
library, lilac, linens, litany.
In case you weren't paying attention, that was the letter "L."
Kate Greenaway, a famous nineteenth century English illustrator of children's books, produced a superb alphabet book at the turn of the nineteenth century, entitled, "A Apple Pie; An Old-Fashioned Book." The work begins coyly:
A Apple Pie
B Bit it
C Cut it
It is now in the public domain, and may be easily viewed, poem and illustrations, in their entirety by clicking here.
A fascinating sub-genre of abecedarian poetry is a poem consisting of only the exact number of words in the given alphabet. Thus, for a poem in the English language, there must be only 26 words, each beginning with a letter of the alphabet. Most are built successively from A to Z, but some very creative poems in this form begin with Z and work in the reverse. One of the more acclaimed poems of this type, by Robert Pinsky, a former U.S. Poet Laureate, is entitled simply, ABC. The poem has a brilliant opening, with a memorable snarky two-line aphorism, which presents letters A-J:
Any body can die, evidently. Few
Go happily, irradiating joy
You can watch and hear Pinsky recite his ABC poem on Youtube by clicking here. This is one of the more power-packed readings of twenty-six words of poetry, in my view, you'll ever hear, and it's introduced by Pinsky with a short but edifying explanation of the abecedarian poetry form.
Here is an ABC poem I recently wrote, entitled, not surprisingly, "ABC."
ABC
All bright creation
Doubles
Exponentially
From gaudy heights:
Iridescent jar,
Keening lover,
Magpie nesting on pier.
Queer reproduction,
Subtle triangulation.
Under velvet wings,
Xerox
Your zen
I have also written several longer ABC poems, including "Animal Alphabet of Collective Nouns" (excerpt below). To view entire poem, click here)
Animal Alphabet of Collective Nouns
"A" is for Apes,
A troop of Apes.
Swinging right over your head.
With parachutes white,
They make quite a sight.
Don't let them land on your bed!
"B" is for Bears,
A sloth of Bears,
Raiding your kitchen for food.
They've eaten the jam,
Are downing the ham,
Could they be any more rude?
Here's an excerpt from another longer ABC poem I wrote:
Zany Alphabet of Creepy Bugs
A
Black ant, red ant
A huge compound eye,
Six skinny legs,
Can they fly?
I'll tell you a tale
If you keep still.
I have seen red fire ants
That live in Brazil
B
Big beetle, black beetle
Crawling on the floor,
Don't let him out,
Close the door!
He'll be a fine pet,
Don't think he'll bite.
But he may have buddies
That come out at night.
C
Dance cricket, sing cricket,
Rub your wings so fast,
Can you not stop?
An hour's passed.
Jumping legs so long,
Springing on me.
If you hop in my hand,
Will I set you free?
You can view the entire poem by clicking here.
.
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