March 17th, 2010
by Ren Powell
Every morning these past two months I have rolled out of bed, turned off the alarm and trudged downstairs to my office to set a new alarm. I sit in a beanbag chair and write, by hand, in a journal for 15 minutes. Then I head off to the shower to get ready for my day job. It isn’t that I get anything done in those 15 minutes. It is the principle of ritual.
It’s an idea I got from the choreographer Twyla Tharp’s book, The Creative Habit. Tharp explains that her ritual isn’t the morning workout, it is the process of getting up and into the taxi that takes her to the gym. She explains that she actually enjoys the workout, but without the ritual she wouldn’t be certain to get to that point each day: other things get in the way too easily.
I wish I could say that every morning when the alarm goes off at 6, I have hopped joyfully out of bed, looking forward to writing my page of non sequiturs. Some Mondays I have crawled slowly on all fours to the office and cursed a blue streak when there was no ink in any of the pens (all of which I tossed back into the drawer, of course – carving dry and desperate spirals in the margins of my journal with empty pens has become a ritual in itself). But no matter how late I actually get started, I have always prioritized the 15 minute writing alarm. It means there have been days I got to work with damp hair and no make-up. And that is fine. I’ve found that, vain as I am, I am honestly a person who values her identity as a writer — as defined and evidenced by the actual activity of writing — more than her identity as an attractive and tidy person. More than the dignity of matching socks. More than a packed lunch.
Believe me, the 15 minutes isn’t the enjoyable workout. It is the taxi ride during which I establish for myself the reality of my days.
I admire people that manage to get up an hour early to make time for their writing. I may someday choose to try that. At the moment, though, this ritual of 15 minutes is about becoming conscious of how I prioritize my time: what happens when I try to write and the other things in my life that prevent me from writing. Or that I have thought prevented me from writing.
This morning, for example, my pen stopped on the page because I heard the song birds for the first time this spring. They were “twittering at 6:06 outside my window” and I couldn’t think of a thing to write after that statement. I just listened. For a moment it seemed the birds had returned and the Muse had taken off. Then the garbage truck arrived and idled and strained and coughed and left. These sounds are some of those other things that get in the way of my writing.
This morning’s production on the page looked more meagre than usual and I trudged downstairs to the shower and then off to work. To my students: more “others” that take up my time and days and thoughts and keep me from writing.
This afternoon my time will be filled with grant-writing, something other than the kind of writing I want to do. Then I will have to tidy the house, pay bills, make dinner, prepare lesson plans, quiz the kids on their homework … I have a whole list of other things to do before I can settle down in front of my computer to work on my own poetry.
Who am I kidding?
Do I sit down every single day to write poetry? No. I watch TV. I read magazines. I surf the web. I write in seasons. Like the songbirds that showed up this morning, the Muse will arrive and slip under my skin again, as long as I leave the door open.
I have found that the 15 minutes I spend each morning writing, even when it is nothing more than “can’t stop thinking about the bills, can’t stop thinking about the bills” in increasingly larger script, is like looking out the door each day. Maybe the Muse will come today. Meanwhile all these other things, things that “get in the way” of my writing fall into lines — on the page.
I have forgiven myself for not having the discipline to sit in my office from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. and write. Or for not getting up at 5 a.m instead of 6. The 15 minute ritual has had the effect of making me mindful. I have discovered that the right thing for me to do is not to cut out the “other” things, but to realize the integrity of my life as a poet. It is all this other stuff that I will draw from when the Muse finally shows up and gives me the opportunity for a really good workout.
Who said success is when preparation meets opportunity? Isn’t that also a good definition of poetry?
How do you deal with the other things that get in the way of poetry?
(I actually wrote this post before reading Robert Peake’s column. It may as well have been in dialogue. Seems we might have have a mutual muse.) 
 Ren (Katherine) Powell is native Californian living on the west coast of Norway. Ren has published three collections of poetry and 11 books of translations. She is a graduate adviser with Prescott College’s brief residency MA program and is pursuing a doctorate in creative writing at Lancaster University in England. Learn more at her website.
March 16th, 2010
by David Jarecki
 The Book of Men and Women, by David Biespiel “That’s what’s interesting to me. The state of being both lost and found.”
David Biespiel is widely recognized as one of the leading poets of his generation, a liberal commentator on national politics, and also an expert in teaching writing. He has taught at every level of education, from a one-room schoolhouse to large university campuses, and has lectured and spoken to audiences throughout the United States. In 1999, looking to create an independent writing studio, Biespiel founded the Attic in Portland, Oregon’s historic Hawthorne district.
His publications include Shattering Air, Pilgrims & Beggars, Wild Civility, and most recently, The Book of Men and Women, which was among the Poetry Foundation’s selections of top poetry of 2009. In addition, he has been honored with a Wallace Stegner Fellowship in Poetry, the Pacific Northwest Booksellers Award, a Lannan Fellowship, and a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship in Literature.
In The Book of Men and Women, Biespiel addresses the times in which we live with a perspective that shifts from global to introspective with ease. Always eager and willing to find new layers of metaphor, Biespiel goes to one of our oldest know source documents — The Book of Genesis — to help get the collection started. When we met in January to discuss the book, one of the first things we talked about was what it’s like to “cover” Genesis, and whether or not it benefits the reader to brush up on the ancient script.
I recently heard you mention that the Bible, specifically the Old Testament, informed some of poems in the book. As it relates to your opening poem, “Genesis 12,” do you think someone needs to be knowledgeable of this particular chapter to appreciate the piece?
I wrote it under the assumption that a reader would google Genesis: 12.
Essentially I was trying to write my own version and interpretive dramatization of that particular chapter of the Bible. The word I use is covering. I cover Genesis: 12 like the band on the corner covers “House of the Rising Sun.”
The Biblical Genesis: 12 is the point where Abraham is leaving his homeland and headed to Canaan. That’s the transition. If he doesn’t leave Ur, or wherever he was from, and go to Canaan, a lot of things don’t happen. Essentially, Abraham is a fanatic; his trek is related to his fanaticism.
My view of fanatics is that they’re so far around the bend in their fanaticism, that they come right around to the edge of doubt. If you could flip them, you could do so easily, and they wouldn’t know what they’re doing. People who come out of fanaticism often say things like, “Wow, it was like a bad dream.” Or an addiction.
I wanted to tell my version of the story from this awareness. The poem ends with the sentence, “I’m certain I’ve lost my mind.” Of course that’s what the fanatic has done: he’s lost his old mind and taken on a new one.
In the end, the poem is trying to look at Abraham as a prophet who’s unsure. The whole experience isn’t that pleasurable for him.
What the poem doesn’t address is the larger question that relates to the transitional moment in Biblical history, regardless of whether it’s factual. Instead it addresses the emotional state. That’s what’s interesting to me. The state of being both lost and found. And that’s not a Jewish tradition, per se. It’s more of an Evangelical tradition I suppose.
Abraham knows what he’s doing, but he also knows that by doing it, he’s wandering. It initiates this type of wandering motif throughout the entire collection.
You can find out more about The Book of Men and Women, Biespiel’s sixth book, at the University of Washington Press. For more about David Biespiel and his work, visit his blog.
 Dave Jarecki writes poetry, fiction and nonfiction from his home in Portland, Ore. Read and listen to his work, as well as the work of guest writers, at DaveJarecki.com.
March 15th, 2010
by Carolee Sherwood
What has five feet and lots of rhythm? Iambic pentameter, of course! Iambic is a particular unit of rhythm (called feet) — two syllables, an unstressed one followed by a stressed one, like this: da-DUM! Pentameter tells us how many of them are on each line — five.
I most often think of Shakespeare when I consider iambic pentameter. “What light through yonder window breaks?” (Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene 2). “Now cracks a noble heart. Good-night, sweet prince; / And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest (Hamlet, Act V, Scene 2).
Rhythm is critical to a poem. Whether it’s structured or not, rhythm can make a poem more — or less — readable. It takes training for our voices to use rhythm and avoid the “sing-song” trap. Lion cubs, puppies and other critters train to hunt through play: rough-housing their litter mates. We’re going to do the same thing: rough-house with our litter mates.
For this installment of “Games Poets Play” we’re going to have a conversation, in iambic pentameter, in the comments section of this post. For example, someone may say, “Let’s see if we can talk in metered rhyme!” And then someone else may say, “That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard!” (Yeah, there’s a slight extra syllable in this one, but it still “sounds” right.)
You can say anything you want, as long as it’s in iambic pentameter and as long as it moves the conversation along (and is not too rough — remember we are playing). Please don’t put anything in the comments that’s not part of the actual discussion taking place in iambic pentameter because that may be confusing.
Who wants to go first?
 Carolee Sherwood is a poet and artist who lives in Upstate New York. She is co-editor of Ouroboros Review, mother of three boys and a veteran Read Write Poem columnist. You can find her rambling about the creative life at Carolee Sherwood and drafting poems at I Am Maureen.
March 12th, 2010
by Deb Scott
This week uses words offered by Barbara, Nicole, Marian V., Mark S. and Rallentanda
To write to this prompt, pick as many (or few) of these words as you want and write a poem using them. (And if these words don’t suit you, pick your own. Just write a poem, or two.)
Enjoy the week’s words, no matter which ones you use.
 Deb Scott is a community director for Read Write Poem. She also co-manages the Read Write Poem Virtual Book Tour. In her other life she loves to hunt for treasure, and tends to leave holes in her backyard, which she disguises as weeding. She blogs at Stoney Moss.
March 11th, 2010
by the Read Write Poem Staff
Did Zachary Schomburg’s amazing prompt help you create something completely new this week? Was it inspiring, frightening, freeing or complicating? All of the above? None of the above?
Along with your links (or your poem), you might want to say a little something about how the process worked for you this week.
Please read this page to find out how the Get Your Poem On and Read Write Prompt posts work.
Remember that work linked from this post is shared in precisely that spirit: sharing, as opposed to critiquing.
If you haven’t done so already, please read all the pages under About in the navigation bar.
If you participate in a Read Write Prompt, we ask that you link back here in your posts, either with a link to Read Write Poem or by using the Read Write Poem badge in your post. Sidebar links are great but it helps others find the site when you link in every post you contribute to the project. It’s not a lot to ask in acknowledgment of the work everyone is doing in providing prompts for members to use.
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get the read write poem badge! 
Wear it loud, wear it proud! Display the Read Write Poem badge on your site. Just click here or on the image above to get the code! read write poem news- ah, the question of too much poetry
March 17, 2010 | 11:37 am“The new math of poetry is driven not by reader demand for great or even good poetry but by the demand of myriads of aspiring poets to experience the thrill of ‘publication.’ “
So says David Alpaugh (along with a lot of other thoughtful things) in “The New Math of Poetry,” published last month in The Chronicle of Higher Education.
Read the article and let us talk. What say you?
- it’s a wrap: last stop on our (virtual) tour of molly gaudry’s ‘anatomy for the artist’
March 15, 2010 | 3:28 pm“I was physically drained by this poem. I understood it on my terms. If a poet’s innovative craftsmanship with form, word, sound, imagery, metaphor, can show me my own bones, then I want to read more of that poet’s work.”
Just a snippet from Wanda McCollar’s response to Molly Gaudry’s electronic chapbook, “Anatomy for the Artist.” Look for the entire post on Synecdochic Stuff and find the rest of our tour, below.
The first stop was Donna Vorreyer at her blog. Next up was Catherine Fitchett at Poetry Chook, Lawrence Gladeview at Righteous Rightings and Ren Powell at More Babel.
You can find complete information about this chapbook and tour here, including a link to where to find it and read it for yourself, online.
Next month’s tour will start mid-April. Don’t miss it!
- the (very) latest on our (virtual) tour of molly gaudry’s ‘anatomy for the artist’
March 11, 2010 | 2:25 pmRen Powell has just posted her take on Molly Gaudry’s electronic chapbook, “Anatomy for the Artist.” Find the post at More Babel.
And, in case you missed it, the first stop was Donna Vorreyer’s, at her blog. Next up was Catherine Fitchett at Poetry Chook and then Lawrence Gladeview at Righteous Rightings.
You can find information about this chapbook and tour here, including a link to where to find it and read it for yourself, online.
- a new poem every day in april (requires reading, not writing)
March 10, 2010 | 6:33 pm“Beginning April 1, Poets.org sends one new poem to your inbox each day to celebrate National Poetry Month. The poems have been selected from new books published in the spring.” Sign up here.
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