Thursday, November 03, 2011

Chants, Blues and Incantations

I'm torn on this one. I found a lot to like in this round of poets, but the two I found most interesting stylistically were Sandra McPherson and William Dickey. It's interesting also that they seem farther apart from each other on the spectrum than some of the other poets on the playlist. Dickey has the incantation style. His repetitions are in the diction and in the rhythm of the lines and they are short stanzas. The tone of his work is that of a spell being cast and he plays with repetition on multiple levels. Repetition of phrases, single words, rhythms coupled with the tight short stanzas pulls the reader into the piece and ejects them just as quickly. Your eyes blink - it's a spell.

McPherson on the other hand has the blues song style in her poem. The repetition is on multiple levels here as well, but they are simpler, and the rhythms are clearly founded in the blues music genre. What I like is the application of it to people and a situation it is not usually applied to - white, mid-class woman and her child's shop-lifting incident. The traditions of blues tint this poem and depth to it; it is a way to add emotion and meaning other than in the traditional, more visible methods we have in poetry (diction, rhetoric, image). Both poets imbue their pieces with emotion and energy with these styles of rhythm and repetition, I can't pick one, so I pick both.The traditions of blues tint this poem and depth to it; it is a way to add emotion and meaning other than in the traditional, more visible methods we have in poetry (diction, rhetoric, image). Both poets imbue their pieces with emotion and energy with these styles of rhythm and repetition, I can't pick one, so I pick both.
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And now for my attempt at a "blues" style poem...

 In the ground there are things left behind.
All along the ground there are things we leave behind.
They creak and lean, the wind passes them by.
They creak and lean, all those things the wind passes by.
 Well they hold on to our memory.
Ghost stories haunt our small forgotten graves.




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