A note from Emma
I teach poetry to undergraduates at the University of California-Santa Cruz, and many of the poems my students start out writing are a series of disconnected fragments—there’s no punctuation, and they maybe aren’t even written in full sentences. This is poetry! they seem to think. Anything goes!
Well, yes and no. The form of the poem (how it uses grammar, lines, rhyme, and rhythm) should be connected to its content (what it’s about): ideally, the two form a symbiotic relationship (like the clownfish and the anemone!). This is another way of saying, formal choices shouldn’t be random. And often, my students’ choices about whether to punctuate or write in sentences feel random at first—the formal choices don’t complicate or deepen my reading of the poem. So, in class, we always end up discussing the role of the sentence in poetry. I’ll challenge them to write a poem from a single sentence or to try writing one in really long lines or sentences (you can find examples of both in Walt Whitman’s work).
I find we don’t get many poetry submissions for Stone Soup that use long lines or long sentences spread across many lines—so I was thrilled to read Amber Zhao’s incredible poems crafted from complex sentences. Her poem “Antarctic” opens:
seen any penguins yet. Hope we do.” How to analyze
that icy wilderness, with its harsh arc of grandiose majesty,
luminous glaciers otherworldly in the setting sun? The Earth’s
veins will be hidden deep beneath the icicle-crusted ground,
my friend, and the surreal wonders of stepping onto land
after many days at sea, a sensation to conquer.
“The sea’s cold,” is all you write from Antarctica, “and we haven’t
. . . we haven’t what?! That’s enjambment!
. . . how to analyze what? That’s enjambment too.that icy wilderness, with its harsh arc of grandiose majesty,
This isn’t the end of the sentence, but the thought still feels complete. The comma indicates a natural pause. This isn’t enjambed.
luminous glaciers otherworldly in the setting sun? The Earth’s
. . . the Earth’s what? It’s another enjambed line.
Try to figure out for yourself whether the final three lines from the excerpt are enjambed or not. And then try to write a poem that uses long sentences and enjambment. Send your finished poems to Stone Soup!
(Also, please scroll down to read more “Antarctic,” and you can find three more of Amber’s amazing poems in the February issue.)
Until next week,
There's still time to submit to our Monthly Flash Contest!
Here’s the prompt for this month’s contest:
Take a character from one of your favorite books, TV shows, or movies, and pretend that they have a social media account. Write a few posts that they might share. Would they let their followers know what is going on in their lives? Or be secretive and vague in their posts? You can make it funny or serious, or a mixture of both! Feel free to keep it within the confines of the original story or make up new details.
And you have until tomorrow, Sunday, Feb. 7, at noon PST to submit here.
Highlights from the past week online
Don't miss the latest content from our Book Reviewers and Young Bloggers at Stonesoup.com!
Read “Change,” a powerful poem by Kaya, 10, about the Black Lives Matter movement. She writes: “Let’s change direction and make correction. / Let’s make this our legacy—Unity in our community.”
Another poem on the blog, this one by Aviva Rosenstock, titled “If Life Were Upside Down.” Aviva captures the disorienting feeling of everything changing.
Speaking of poetry, we posted another Stone Soup author interview between intern Anya and Stone Soup poet Tatiana Rebecca Shrayer. They discuss the freedom of creative writing, even if it doesn’t “make sense.”
From Stone Soup
February 2021
Antarctic
By Amber Zhao, 10 (Brisbane, Australia)
“The sea’s cold,” is all you write from Antarctica, “and we haven’t
seen any penguins yet. Hope we do.” How to analyze
that icy wilderness, with its harsh arc of grandiose majesty,
luminous glaciers otherworldly in the setting sun? The Earth’s
veins will be hidden deep beneath the icicle-crusted ground,
my friend, and the surreal wonders of stepping onto land
after many days at sea, a sensation to conquer. I remember
those waterfalls of ice, pluming into the distant rays
of an underwater moon. Stinging chandeliers, jellyfish,
pulsed deadly, deadly under a human touch, yet beguiling,
a universal gravity drawing the fingers to the stingers.
Translucent lives floated and flowered in a primal ripple-ring of wild nerves
Stone Soup is published by Children’s Art Foundation-Stone Soup Inc., a 501(c)(3) educational nonprofit organization registered
in the United States of America, EIN: 23-7317498.
Stone Soup's Advisors: Abby Austin, Mike Axelrod, Annabelle Baird, Jem Burch, Evelyn Chen, Juliet Fraser, Zoe Hall, Montanna Harling, Alicia & Joe Havilland, Lara Katz, Rebecca Kilroy, Christine Leishman, Julie Minnis, Jessica Opolko, Tara Prakash, Denise Prata, Logan Roberts, Emily Tarco, Rebecca Ramos Velasquez, Susan Wilky.
Leave a Reply