My name is Chris and here are some ideas I've found useful and fun:
The 'hyperdelic' poet and writer William Burroughs, author of The Naked Lunch,
had a fun technique for constructing simple poems.
You take one line and make a permutation.
Maybe you have a line already -
if not read further on for some ideas on how to generate that vital first line.
But first here's an example:
'Dog Duty Done Today'
Now by permutation you get:
Dog Duty Done Today
Today Done Duty Dog
Duty Dog Done Today
Today, Done Dog Duty
And so on . . .
Now that might not be the most wonderful poem in the world -
Improvements welcomeTry it!
To generate that vital first line you can use:
1. Found lines
2. Cut ups
3. 'Exquisite Corpses'
Click on one of above links (if underlined)
I have an idea for a 'collective' poem on the theme of weaponry.
It's called 'This is not just a gun . . .'.
If you've seen the Marks & Spencers advert on the TV, you might get my drift.
For example:
'This isn't just chocolate,
it's creamy, luscious Belgian Chocolate,
ooooozing with flavour,
stored in oak casks
since 1492.'
or that kind of thing.
Only my first verse goes:
'This is not just a gun.
It's a [fill the blank]'
In the blank space please let me have some real, detailed, descriptions of guns, as available on the internet. Email me the results to gatehouse_gatehouse@yahoo.com & I will add them to this page, and show the the second verse. You can also add your version and/or any comments or criticism via the gatehouse blog.
(Work in Progress)This is not just a rifle
But an M-4T Tactical Carbine
with ergonomically correct pistol grip
and hard anodized finish for receivers
length 35.5 inches, Caliber 5.56mm,
loads like an M - 16
Federal Excise Tax included!
. . . to be continued
Edited from the BBC Get Writing website
Poetry is an intense exploration of language which seeks to uncover new ways of describing the world.
This session includes:
You mustn't rush to the end to find out what it means, but every line, every phrase, every word is an end in itself.
The first rule of poetry is: don't bore yourself. When you start a project, you have a rush of energy, a downpour of ideas and you probably write your best lines straight off, without thinking. So whenever you write, make a habit of stopping every now and then and asking, 'Am I bored?' And if the answer is 'yes', look round, breathe in, listen out, take aim and start again. And then again. And then again.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Write a poem about water, try to listen and speak water.
Or if your prefer, a poem about an old man, listen to how he (or it) sounds.
Before writing, spend a certain amount of time listening.
Take a day picking up rhythms in the world around you.
Map them by tapping your feet or punching the air.
Then allow the water (or the old man) to speak its names.
Start with the ones everyone knows, such as River, Rain, Dribble and so on.
Then get to the secret names, in which water appears to be calling itself.
For instance, one of the names for water could be
'oscillation-endlessly-shaken-into-an-entirely-new-structure'.
Note down those names with your left hand along with any other names that spring to mind.
(If you are left handed then reverse these instructions)
Perhaps the name of the moment before you fall into a pond, or the name of the feeling of seeing yourself in a puddle... The result is a kind of proto-poem.
Use your right hand and computer to edit the proto-poem.
Here's an example by Alice Oswald about stones:
When a Stone Was Wrecking His Country
When a man went to fight a stone,
He clenched his knuckle-stones, he lifted his foot-stones,
He upheld himself like the last megalith,
He kissed his lady like a white abandonable sea-pebble,
He felt as justified as a set slate.
He saw the sky like an open flint
And the starlings shaken and fallen about like gravel.
He wanted to go carefully like making a wall.
He went as far as meteorites disappear
Into the holes and shadows of the universe like a curious
pumice;
Went among tree-boughs like the dark detail of marble,
Went among animals like various amethysts
And men of rock and flowers extempore as lava
And came to confusion like a heap of shale.
He came to despair like moisture coming up through chalk.
He had to oppose everything, he had to grind away
At his own tooth-stones, saying:
'if I could sift the silicate from these bones,
if this complexion of feldspar,
if this ego-dragon spiralling like a fossil…'
but he couldn't rest, like a little grit under an eyelid
till his head like some god-in-a-boulder
rolled from its purpose and came down among stone-kind.
That's enough for now -
please do write your own piece on the topic either of water or old men,
and send to me via email at:
gatehouse_gatehouse@yahoo.com
The above guide is based on material written by Alice Oswald for the BBC Getwriting
beginner's course on poetry. If you can't wait then please do check it out for yourself.
This initiative is part of the Oxford Sunday Times Literary Festival
and the Oxford Homeless College Digital Brain.
Last revised 1/2/6
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