Thursday, February 9, 2017

file under 'will never be published' (no. 10)

File under 'will never be published': 
Upside Down Ghazal


Background: I don't like to follow rules. That's not true. I don't like to follow arbitrary rules. I do, however, like to understand rules. How can you figure out if a rule is arbitrary if you don't understand it? How can you bend a rule that is arbitrary or push its limits if you don't fully understand it?

I'm an autodidact where it comes to poetry --that's just a fancy way of saying I'm self-taught. I don't remember ever really studying poetry in school. I stumbled upon poetry fairly recently (in 2014, to be exact). Poetry became something I didn't understand, but I knew I liked the sound of it and I liked the imagery in it. I needed something to do with my brain that would take it away from worrying and obsessive thinking, and poetry worked for me. 

I found a contest early on, when I decided I wanted to Write (capital letter, because I was serious), that gave a theme and asked for a villanelle. I had no idea what a villanelle was. I searched the Internet, found an example and definition, and managed to write one using the example (Dylan Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night") as a template. I've done the same with other poetic forms since --sonnets, odes, etc., etc.

Here's where we get into the rule-bending thing. After a while, one does like to mix it up a bit. I've written incomplete sonnets. I've written villanelles using curse words. And I've written an upside down ghazal.

A ghazal has its origins in South Asia and Persia (apparently, or so the Interweb told me). I'll let the Poets.org website explain the rest, since that's where I learned about it: 
"The ghazal is composed of a minimum of five couplets—and typically no more than fifteen—that are structurally, thematically, and emotionally autonomous. Each line of the poem must be of the same length, though meter is not imposed in English. The first couplet introduces a scheme, made up of a rhyme followed by a refrain. Subsequent couplets pick up the same scheme in the second line only, repeating the refrain and rhyming the second line with both lines of the first stanza. The final couplet usually includes the poet’s signature, referring to the author in the first or third person, and frequently including the poet’s own name or a derivation of its meaning." 

Naturally, reading this, my first question is, why does it have to be like that? I wanted to flip it upside down. They're traditionally love poems? Great. I'll make it the opposite of a love poem. Why not? Plenty of people have written ghazals, probably better than I ever could, but bet no one's tried this (maybe for good reason).

Don't be afraid to try things in writing. It does not hurt anything to bend rules in an art form. It hurts no one. No one will think badly of you for wondering out loud, what if I try this? Why not try? Have some fun. Experiment. Push limits. Otherwise, what's the point, especially if you're writing fiction or poetry?

It'll never be published because it's a little strange. I'm okay with that. At least I tried.



Upside Down Ghazal
Love ended.  My head’s been turned upside down,
And I, stupid poetess, forgot the rules.
An unlucky widow was burned upside down
Because her husband unfortunately died.
“A dollar spent’s a penny earned” –upside-down
Logic that leads to nothing but bankruptcy.
The judgment of a court adjourned upside down
Was a sentence without any meaning.
The wet misery that I’ve learned upside down,
Inside out, and sideways moistens my forehead.
When a batch of butter gets churned upside down,
The cream will always sink down to the bottom.
One frigid spring, you left me spurned –upside down.
Now backwards is what’s left, yearned upside down.


No comments:

Post a Comment