"Winning" Poems & How They Get That Way

I attended a memorial for my friend Dan Schmidt last week. Among his many excellent qualities, Dan had a knack for focusing on the core essence of a person. He looked past the superficial details that might distract the rest of us, and connected directly with everyone's true self. He shared sincere joy, caring and grief with all he came into contact with, and remembered the details, too. I was of course stricken personally by his passing, but almost immediately realized the greater loss-- to all his friends, his birth family, and the community he adopted so many years ago as family.

And what does this have to do with poetry? Well, the day after the memorial, I attended the annual meeting of the Hudson Valley Writers Guild, and as part of the proceedings, the awards for the 2015 Poetry Contest were presented. As one of the judges, I felt an obligation to explain a bit about what I look for in a "winning" poem. "Winning," is a relative term, and on any given day I could have picked three other poems as winners. In the right frame of mind, I might even have challenged my fellow judge Howard Kogan to a duel to defend his choices. But, with the understanding that being a "winner" is a fleeting and subjective state, I offered a peek into the workings of my process.

Unlike my friend Dan, I am often distracted, by the presence of overused words in poetry-- "moon," "love," "soul," are just three of the words that cause me to be on guard. They are extremely powerful images, which is why they have been so frequently used. They can also indicate a lazy poet who chooses an image that s/he knows we are all familiar with instead of describing something completely, or with fresh language. If someone can write a poem with the word "rose," in it and make it sound new, more power to them. It's a tremendous goal that few can achieve these days.

What I look for in a strong poem isn't necessarily perfect craftsmanship. Forms are more of a pastime to me these days than a legitimate structure that enhances the effectiveness of the poem. Then there are all the grammatical bugaboos that can be distracting if you've been cursed with a solid education in the illogical details. These things can be gently corrected by an editor who can sense the gold within the straw.

What cannot be added is truth, honesty, passion. Poems are written for many reasons, and not always noble ones. Ego, revenge, and fear have often been the impetus for a poem. For me, the most powerful poems are written because the poet can do nothing but write. This compulsion is obvious in the work. It pulses and purrs with an unseen energy that is undeniable.

An added bonus is if the poet expresses themselves in unique language, fresh imagery. Being a bit on the lazy side myself, I find the easiest way to do this is to write the words down that come to you, not the words you've heard other poets use. Don't be afraid of writing in your own voice. It's the only one worth using, and really, the one the world wants to hear.

If you're wondering, no, I haven't written a poem about Dan yet. A few images have been kicking around the back of my brain. When I do (and let's face it, I will), it may not be the best poem ever written. But my intentions will be sincere. I owe Dan at least that much, and so much more.

Poet Emeritus? Already?

            I was recently asked to judge a regional poetry contest along with the great Howard Kogan. I eagerly accepted, although my own preferences in poetry are so peculiar that I really should not have. I expect that Howard’s level-headedness will cancel out my impulsiveness, and all submissions will receive a fair shake. 

            However, as part of the bigger picture, I’ve noticed a trend. Earlier this year, I was invited to become a part of a screening committee for the local arts center, representing the literati of my city. I’m also now on the board of CAPS (Calling All Poets), a Beacon based group that hosts a monthly open poetry mic that is streamed online around the universe. My longtime nickname, “Diva,” has inspired a lot of faux scraping and bowing over the years, often by my chronological elders. I am wondering if lately perhaps the notion of some sort of elder status has imposed itself on my poetic career. 

            It may be that merely by hanging around long enough one attains a sort of eligibility for committees and the like. I have lived in the Hudson Valley for 35 years now, and have been active in the poetry scene here for almost that long. For 10 years I hosted the annual Sylvia Plath Bake-Off, a now defunct midwinter love letter to the late poet that in later editions included a baking contest in addition to an open mic. As friends and family began to exit the planet, I lost my taste for morbid mockery, even as it may be creeping back as a way to stay sane in my later years. 

            I’ve participated in readings from Cape Cod to Waterloo Village, and all points in between. I’ve published a bit of work here and there, but not nearly as much as some of my fellows. I’ve put out a few handmade chapbooks along the way, even before computers and home printers made that self-indulgent act far too easy. 

            Now that I think about it, I was a judge for a contest put on by the Stone Ridge Poetry Society back in the late 1980s, a one-day affair they called “Day of the Poet.” My friend Don Levy was one of the other judges, and I believe we both qualified because we’d previously been winners, or at least placed. “Day of the Poet” was brilliant. In one day, three rounds of readings were held, each smaller than the last, and then finally a winner wast chosen. Judging was based on performance as well as words. It was efficient, enjoyable, and even left room for musicians or truly established poets (hello, Ed Sanders!) to round out the activities. It’s a concept that bears repeating. Hmmmm… maybe I should bring that up at the next board meeting. Any board meeting. 

            Have I crossed the line from ‘new voice’ to ‘elder statesperson’? Is there a line at all? Is it a good thing to be asked to judge the work of others? How do others judge me, let alone my work? All good writing prompts. But then again, the fortunes in cookies are often excellent prompts. And I suppose the answers to be above questions might be as easily obtained. So much for wisdom of the elders…