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Tips and ideas on writing your own poetry
Write a lot. Emily Dickinson wrote nearly 1800 poems in her 56 years of life. Some are much better than others in my opinion. The more you write the more gems will appear.Write what you know. What do you feel strongly about? Relationships? Nature? Your connection to God? Social issues? Superficiality? Humor?
Be brief. Good poetry says something profound or memorable in as few words as possible.
Edit ruthlessly. Read your poem over a few times when finished. Can you leave out some unneccessary words? Or rewrite a line better?
Don't be concerned about rules. Your poems don't have to rhyme, but should have a nice rhythm and flow to them when read aloud.
Share your poetry. Read them to a friend or family member. Post them on a website. A poem can be a very personal and special addition to an anniversary or birthday card.
Read excellent poetry for inspiration and style. Two books I like: "Good Poems" selected by Garrison Keillor and "The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson" (Barnes & Noble Classics).
Pray for inspiration -- your own unique expression.
Mostly short poems I've written:
PLAYTo feel good,
To feel okay -
You gotta play.At any age
Youth or sage -
Get outta your cage!And play!
Be silly, have fun!
Take a happy-break
Or you'll come undone.Basketball, frisbee, dance or joke,
Everyone loves a cheerful bloke.
Don't let your life go up in smoke.Play!
GOALS
Goals keep me going,
send me doing,
improving,
moving.I tell myself -
do the important stuff,
being busy
isn't enough.I keep a written life list
to stay happily on track,
with something to do
I never lack.God is my guide,
I discuss, confide.
As I work to achieve,
He motivates inside.HIDDEN LIFE
A hidden life lives underneath,
Secret and rarely exposed.
It's your thought life
Or spirit - as some would suppose.Like the tip of an iceberg
Little is seen
Of what's really below,
The subconscious scene.A smile on top
May hide sadness below,
Interest above may disguise
Boredom, you know.Or you try to remain poised,
Appear in control,
But down deep you're squirming,
Emotions aboil!But sometimes the depths are
Calm as can be
With the sun overhead
And a tranquil sea.As the bland ocean above
Hides teeming life below,
So your outer shell hides
What only God and you know.INTERIOR OR EXTERIOR?
Are you interior
Or exterior?
Live in your head and heart?
Or focus outside yourself?
Are your two selves together,
Or are they far apart?Feed your inside.
God lives there -
Or wants to.One is no better than the other
But if had my druthers
I'd nourish my unseen, secret core
So my visible outside
Isn't miserable and sore.PRIDE
If I could get
PRIDE
out of my hide
I could then let
God
inside.TIME
The longer we live
Time speeds faster.
A day in youth
Lasts a week.
A week in old age
Lasts but a day.
Time well spent,
Busy in work or deed,
Is a principle
We'd do well to heed.KEY
I found one key
To a happier me:
Always have something to do -
Occupied in mind and hand -
It keeps me from feeling blue.KNOWING YOU
Knowing you is...
Walking the hills of your mind,
Pausing in the valleys of your soul,
Following the streams of your reveries
And feeling the wind of your prayers
Rising skyward
For me.PLEASURE OF SLEEP
At the end of the day
When evening comes
And laying down to sleep
Seems such a tired pleasure -
It's good to put away clothes
And today's concerns,
Strip to nothing,
Get under the covers,
Say a "good night"
And drift away in dreams.HOPE SPRINGS
Hope springs up
Like a cork on water.
Whether wish or fantasy,
It's what I want to see
In my occasional reverie.Though circumstance
Says "impossible!"
Hope looks beyond
What's hopeless and gone.Even when reality bites
And brings me back
To earth -
Something inside
Will not be denied.So I divorce doubt
And elope
With hope.MAKER
If Someone made all this,
All that we see,
What an amazing Inventor
He must be.So much design -
Specificity:
The lowly, industrious ant,
Working as part of a teeming team,
The lithe cheetah, speed personified,
Amazing your startled being.Space - where does it end?
Stars by the millions,
Distances incomprehensible.
All made out of "nothing,"
From invisible substance
We don't see.
I infer a Designer.
What's made has a Maker,
It just had to be.BROWN DIRT
(in memory of my dad, a farmer and gardener)It's where we all come from -
brown dirt.
Africans, Asians, Europeans,
people of all colors -
from brown dirt.We eat fruits and vegetables -
green beans, red onions, pink grapefruit,
white potatoes -
which all grow out of -
brown dirt.The animals we eat - cattle, chickens, sheep -
they eat the oats and grains and grass
that grow out of -
brown dirt.Flowers in all their variety and multi-colored glory,
leaves of varied shapes, sizes and designs,
and the trees that grow them come from -
brown dirt.What is more valuable than
diamonds, silver and gold?
It's the humble substance
that gives us life -
Brown dirt.We walk on it and treat it like dirt.
It doesn't get the respect it deserves -
brown dirt!HAR THE POET
There once was a poet named Har,
Whose thoughts didn't reach very far.
He thunk and he thunk
But his poetry stunk,
So he drank 'til drunk in a bar.GUINEVERE GLOPP
Dear Miss Guenivere Glopp,
Into your soup
A fly did plop.
And silly you!
You ate him up,
And slurped up the soup
To the very last drop.
All art work Copyright © Harlan Simantel
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