The taste of iron

A love poem.

The thought of it like

The constant teste of blood

In my mouth, unlike

The sweet release of one's own flood.

Everything is iron, everything I taste

Feels now like a waste.

The sweet of everything replaced

By the tangy iron's taste.

Leave me bloodless, alone,

In my mouth to taste your soul.

Leave a taste from the unknown

For someone who's only tasted iron.

Reviews

[JayG]

Okay, take a deep breath, because this WILL sting, especially given that you’re pleased with the way it came out.

But...you can’t fix a problem you don’t see as being one, and what I’m about to say is unrelated to either your talent for poetry, or how well you write. Mostly, it has to do with a huge misunderstanding we leave school with.

Think about how much time your teachers have spent on things like prosody, iambic and trochaic openings, and the other elements a poet needs to take into account while creating a poem. Did they grade you on poetic skill or were the vast majority of your assignments for reports or essays—nonfiction, which has a goal of informing the reader.

They offer MFA degrees with a specialization in poetry. Right? And you have to assume that at least part of what’s taught there is necessary. And if it is, digging in to those skills isn't optional.

But because we DON’T think about any of that—and no one told us about it—we make the first mistake: We think structured poetry is about the rhyme. But it’s not. The rhyme not only is not the purpose of rhyming poetry, its goal is to enhance in two ways. First, it provides the tink of a cymbal, to add an accent to the line-end, not the thud of a drum. Second, it ends the line with the perfect word to complete the thought, with the fact of it rhyming seeming almost accidental.

Next: Once you establish a rhyming pattern, you maintain it, line-to-line.

But in this, Stanza 1 rhyme structure is ABAB (first and third line rhyme, as do the second and fourth
But...S2= AAAA
And...S3= ABAC
So there is no rhythm that the reader may anticipate, and thus, be a participant.

And. the number of feet per line is all over the place, too (Pairs of stressed and unstressed syllables).

In short, you’re doing the best you can with the tools you own. But…to be all you can be, you need more. You need the techniques they’ve been refining for hundreds of years, because it gives you so many more options, and helps you avoid the traps. In fact, they’ll help you avoid the trap of talking to the reader instead of making them feel as if they’re involved.

My favorite example of a better approach is the lyric to the song, "The Twelfth of Never," released in 1957. Look at the opening stanza:
- - - - -
You ask how much I need you, must I explain?
I need you, oh my darling, like roses need rain.
You ask how long I'll love you; I'll tell you true:
Until the twelfth of never, I'll still be loving you.
- - - - -
Notice the clever trick played on the reader: The protagonist is replying to a question that the reader supposedly asked, placing that reader INTO the poem, as the beloved who has asked that question. And since the question is one we might ask of someone who loves us, the answer is inherently interesting (especially since, if it’s a good answer we might use it).

So with “You ask,”, and without realizing why, the reader is emotionally involved. To me, that’s brilliant writing.

Next, the line requests to know as how long their will commitment last, then dismisses it as supposedly obvious. Yet it’s a critical question, so the seeming disconnect again draws the reader in, with the unspoken comment of, "Well yes, you must tell me, because I need to know." So, given the attitude placed in the reader with that thought, we WANT to hear the response, and it feels as if it's directed at us. And that is a HUGE hook.

The response is 100% allegorical. It says, in effect, “I can’t live without you,” but does it in a pretty, and interesting way.

The question/answer sequence then continues with a clever twist, Love will end, but on a date that’s an impossibility.

It’s 100% emotion-based writing. It calls up context that already exists in the reader/listener’s mind. But even had the reader never heard the expression “like roses need rain,” it would be instantly meaningful.

It’s part of a song, but this first verse, for me, is a perfect example of emotion-based poetry.

Make sense?

The problem behind the problem, as I see it, is that for the author, every line acts as a pointer to ideas, memories, events, and outcomes, all stored in our mind. But too often, every line acts as a pointer to ideas, memories, events, and outcomes, all stored in *OUR* mind, because we forget to give that context to the reader.
- - - - - - - -
So, a couple of suggestions:

1. Take a look at the excerpt of Stephen Fry’s, The Ode Less Traveled, on Amazon. It is a great introduction to the flow of language, and the basics of poetry.

2. Then, when you’ve read it a time or two, and it’s making sense, take a look at a poem that will demonstrate the power of well written the rhyme to get you keeping time and falling into the rhythm of the piece. Do a search for The Cremation of Sam McGee on Shmoop.

It’s a fun piece, and provides a smile at the end, even 100 years after it was written.

Then, look on the pages following the poem, where they do an analysis of it.

So…. I’m certain this wasn’t what you were hoping to see. But you now know something that most hopeful poets never learn. So jump in and give it a try. And while you do, hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/

[K writes]

SO well written and beautiful

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

A strong beautiful poem
Loved it well done