a train of flowers
strung across the waves
a wreath
bringing up the rear
like a flower girl
© 2015 Douglas J. Westberg
a train of flowers
strung across the waves
a wreath
bringing up the rear
like a flower girl
© 2015 Douglas J. Westberg
[This column first appeared in slightly different form on Gather in 2012]
Metonymy! (gesundheit…)
Pardon my Greek… The word “metonymy” itself may look as arcane and hairy as, say, onomatopoeia, but like onomatopoeia, you can find metonymy almost anywhere you look! Metonymy (meh-TAWN-i-mee) is the rhetorical figure in which an object is referred to by substituting something—usually smaller and more concrete—that is related to, symbolic of, or a constituent of that object.
An individual instance of metonymy is called a metonym. The type of metonym which consists of a constituent or component part of the object referred to is called a synecdoche (sin-ECK-duh-key). We use metonyms every day without even thinking about it. Here are a few familiar examples. You can think of dozens more. Continue reading
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Dear SunWinkers!
This is a lightly reworked reissue of my September, 2012 column for Gather.com on the topic of Abstract and Cubist Poetry. I also urge you to read our recent SunWinks! columns on Edith Sitwell and Intrinsic Rhythm and Cubism as these three columns all encourage you to sharpen your sense of the sound, rhythm, and structure of your writing by putting aside considerations of meaning.
* * *
Well, we’re all done with modern poetry. I’ve exhausted every conceivable topic, every possible technique. There’s nothing left to talk about. Just go back through my previous columns and you’ll know everything there is to know about writing modern poetry.
Did I have you going for a second?
The fact is, there is no end to the invention, the creativity, and the variety of modern poetry and approaches to modern poetry. Think of how many stylistic genres and individual styles there are in modern painting, to name just one medium. Think for just a moment about the unique visions of Monet, Mondrian, Matisse, Miro, Grandma Moses, and M.C. Escher.
As I’ve said, and tried to demonstrate, poetry is much more than sentiment, short lines, and end rhymes. The techniques that can be used to communicate the very special, intimate truth that lives in the poetic imagination are as rich and variegated as the colors in the artist’s palette, or the harmonic colors in the music composer’s palette.
Now I’m inviting you to go wild. Let loose. Be creative. Pull out all the stops. Put all the leftovers into the stew. Throw the paint onto the wall. Play the piano without the music—with your fists, even. Continue reading
In recent weeks, we’ve been backing and filling on topics in the area of the sound and sonority of the language, including a couple ideas, neologism and tumbling verse, which we hope encouraged you to think about sonority and rhythm in new ways. Another way of sharpening your acuity on such considerations is to deprive yourself of the benefit of line breaks. When you do that, you end up with a
Seemingly a contradiction in terms, the phrase may refer to
Babette Deutsch, Poetry Handbook: A Dictionary of Terms [NY, NY: HarperResource 2002 reprint].
*i.e. not didactic, not arguing a point from logic and reason, as an essay
**Examples of type #2 include James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake and E.A. Poe’s “Eleanora.” We are going to ignore definition #2 for obvious reasons and focus on definition #1. Continue reading
Dearest hardy, intrepid SunWinkers:
I frequently badger you to read your poetry aloud, and today’s column is no exception. Writing poetry without hearing what it sounds like is like studying a piano etude without touching the keyboard. For about a year, I’ve been making the rounds of poetry open mikes here in Vancouver USA and trying to be a good citizen of the poetry community. Reading your poems to an audience is so valuable, I just can’t recommend it highly enough!
Ghost Town Poetry open mike, February 12, 2015
You get to hear it aloud, hear yourself read it, see what the audience responds to and what falls flat and what flies over their heads. It builds confidence in public speaking and in yourself as an artist. I’ve grown immensely from doing this. Here’s a sample, from January’s Ghost Town Poetry open mike: http://youtu.be/4Cdg3JWppk4?t=20m
This week, we bounce from Metaphors 201 back to considerations of rhythm and sound. Today’s topic is Tumbling Verse a.k.a. Skeltonic Verse. It’s lots of fun and it’s a great way to experiment with rhythm, pace, diction, sonority, and phonetics. Continue reading
As I go through my Gather columns and fill in topics I have not yet addressed here on WordPress with the ultimate goal of producing SunWinks! The Book, we next find the poetic device known as the Metaphysical Conceit.
*sound of jaws dropping to the floor*
Once upon a time, I was reading one of my favorite sourcebooks, which cited Theodore Roethke in a discussion of figurative language:
I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand;
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing did we make.)
from “I Knew A Woman” © Estate of Theodore Roethke
and went on to say, rather too briefly, “this is what is known as a metaphysical conceit.” [Engle and Carrier, eds.:Reading Modern Poetry; Glenview, Illinois: Scott, Foresman & Co., revised edition 1968. From the Introduction by Lawrence Kramer.] Continue reading
If you’ve been following our column, you’ve gotten a pretty good survey of the basic essentials in the modern poet’s tool belt. You’ve learned how to use a hammer, a screwdriver, a chalk line, a carpenter’s square, and a level. A poet uses metaphor, simile, imagery, line breaks, sonority, and rhythm every time one sits down to write a poem.
Among the quirkier, funnier, more arcane devices—the hole saw, stud finder, miter board, and drill press of the wordsmith’s workbench—is today’s topic, the Oxymoron.
The word oxymoron is from the Greek words meaning sharp…dull. So the origin of the word itself is an oxymoron! An oxymoron might also be called a contradiction in terms, or a two-word paradox. We’ve all heard them:
civil war
pretty ugly
firewater
safety risk
lengthy brief
We could go on forever. It’s just one more way to make your writing a little more colorful. I wrote a couple poems in response to Gather prompts which were full of oxymora, and the result, I thought, was lively and effective. But like hyperbole, neologism, and other circus stunts, oxymoron is the sort of device you want to use sparingly in your writing overall, lest it become stale and clownish. The exception to this rule would be humorous verse, for which circus stunts are the order of the day.
Here are a couple terrific articles on oxymorons with lots of great examples:
Oxymoron
100 Awfully Good Examples of Oxymorons
Both are by About.com grammar maven Richard Nordquist. The second one is an excellent discussion until it gets to the list of “100 Examples,” many of which I feel are not particularly strong.
This is what I believe is the crucial point: An oxymoron is an apparent contradiction. “Civil war” is a perfectly sensible term for an internal conflict. It’s only when you consider “civil” in an out-of-context alternate meaning that the phrase becomes an oxymoron. “Pretty ugly” is another good example. “Pretty ugly” makes perfect sense in the sense of “fairly ugly.” It is only when you make a pun out of “pretty” meaning “attractive” that the phrase becomes an oxymoron in the narrowest and best sense.
Additional examples of this quintessential kind of oxymoron:
devout atheist
even odds
exact estimate
definite maybe
crash landing
awfully good
freezer burn
ill health
guest host
jumbo shrimp
negative growth
old news
random order
and so on. On the other hand, phrases like
icy hot
sad smile
alone together
bittersweet
deliberate speed
lead balloon
loud whisper
one-man band
do not rise to the level of oxymoron. They make perfect sense even as they are superficially contradictory. “Bittersweet” describes something that combines bitter and sweet taste sensations; similarly, “icy hot.” “Deliberate speed” and “loud whisper” mean exactly what they sound like they mean. If you had a “lead balloon,” you’d have an awfully hard time getting it to float upwards, and that’s exactly the point, no more, no less—there’s no double meaning involved.
There is perhaps yet a third distinction. Phrases like
silent scream
friendly fire
resident alien
sole choice
open secret
minor miracle
living dead
magic realism
loyal opposition
are ironic, internally contradictory, paradoxical in a meaningful way. This sort of figure makes for lively writing, but doesn’t feature the pun, the wordplay, that distinguishes a genuine oxymoron. It’s just a straightforward paradox. But don’t get me wrong, it is still good writing.
These are fine distinctions, and you’re certainly free to argue with me about my choices. Regarding “silent scream” or “resident alien,” for example, do “scream” and “alien” merely combine two different connotations or shades of meaning of each of those words? Or are they out-and-out puns, involving amusingly incongruous alternate definitions, like “jumbo shrimp”?
Write a poem that includes at least one oxymoron.
Make a list of oxymorons. Include some of your favorites and try to make up some original ones as well.
Prose: Write a short fictional or factual news item that includes at least one oxymoron. Or, here’s an idea: write a short news item and write a headline for it that employs an oxymoron, a favorite device of headline writers.
Devotedly,
Doug
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