Bird Face Wendy

Things relevant to reading, writing, publishing or marketing teen fiction.

Calling All Poets! Teach Fiction Writers a Thing or Two

on March 30, 2016
Minstrel

Image courtesy of Morguefile free photos

If you’ve followed this blog a while, you know I have great love and respect for poetry. To improve my fiction, I remind myself to tap into poetic description, and I encourage other prose writers to do the same.

In case you aren’t aware of it, April is National Poetry Month, and I’d like to honor all you poets out there.

Poets who write for their eyes only, to release their emotions and comfort themselves.

Poets who write to soothe or inspire readers like me.

Poets who address difficult subjects in a lovely way.

Poets who condense the world into a digestible, single-sitting format.

Poets who create verses and stanzas more memorable than prose.

Poets who write greeting cards.

Poets who write song lyrics.

Did I forget anyone?

If you are a poet, thank you.

If you are a classroom teacher, librarian, or bookstore owner, you can request (free) this year’s beautifully designed poster from the Academy of American Poets.

Let’s remind people we know–even those who claim to hate poetry–how it enriches our lives. Find your favorite poem and share it this month with someone you care about.

As a poet, what would you like to share with a prose writer? As a prose writer, what would you like to know about writing or appreciating poetry?

 

 

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3 responses to “Calling All Poets! Teach Fiction Writers a Thing or Two

  1. Poetry, particularly the kind of Haiku I learned in school, the old three-line format of five syllables, seven syllables, and five syllables, taught me the power of specifically chosen words to create images.

    Like

  2. One of my favorite poems, The Eagle by Tennyson. I recently realized that each line contains eight syllables. Perhaps I enjoy it because it’s so balanced and crisp. And I love the imagery.

    He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
    Close to the sun in lonely lands,
    Ringed with the azure world, he stands.

    The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
    He watches from his mountain walls,
    And like a thunderbolt he falls.

    Like

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