Thoughts on Collecting Words and Memorizing Poems

Words are the blood and bones for all poets. It is crucial for poets to understand that one’s poetry can only evolve and mature with a constant habit of studying words, styles, forms and the memorization of poetry. I admit, I need to work on these habits myself but I do try to keep up with one particular exercise and that is collecting and studying words.

person holding a pen writing on notebook
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I have a small notebook that I keep close to my desk or latest pile of books at all times. Inside are pages of words that I want to learn, memorize, and use in my poetry. Usually, I start a new entry by writing down the date then writing down the words I want to add. Occasionally I will write a specific definition that makes it easier for me to learn the word. I have not memorized or utilized all the words in my ‘Word Notebook’ yet since there are too many but this habit keeps me on the lookout for new words, strange or unknown, that fascinate me.

An expansive knowledge of words and their meanings benefits a poet in their writing since every single word counts. Poems are created through a concise and condensed build up of words. Each word is crucial in the construction of a poem because it only takes a few words to create a memorable outstanding poem, or a few words to ruin an entire piece (but honestly you can have 2/3rds of an amazing poem and then a 3rd of so-so and still love the poem to death).

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The habit of memorizing poems (often great classics) benefits the poet by teaching them the importance of rhythm and punctuation. After a poet learns to read poetry, much like reading music, it is then a whole new challenge for a poet (or anybody!) to perform a poem. I say ‘perform’ because poetry is not like other forms of writing. Poetry originates in ballads and songs sung in the ancient past usually about heroes, conquests, wars, and love. Poetry is an art form created with words and like art, it must be presented in an appropriate manner to audiences.

Check out one of my Poetry Reading’s HERE

The form of poetry depends entirely on the placement of words and punctuation (or lack thereof) knowing how to read a poem is a step away from knowing how to read aloud a poem (to perform the piece). Acknowledgment of these aspects of learning and studying poetry helps the poet grow as a reader and writer. It is the same concept that a musician has to music. Study it, learn it, perform it THEN creating it yourself suddenly becomes an exciting venture.


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Free Hand #38 (Cave of Expressions)

Cave of Expressions

 

The words pull me under,

tide sweeps overhead. Trying

to dive into nowhere into

nothing and burning, my

mind, my head. My only

sickness that plagues

me is a cave of

expressions

that molds

in the

darkness

of my

intellect.


 

If you are reading this Thank You for taking time out of your day to read my writing!

I hope you will return in the future!

-Alina

Notebook Excerpts #4 (May/June)

Here are some excerpts from my May and June Notebooks. I use regular composition notebooks to write in, take notes, and attempt poetry and fiction. I have filled one entire Notebook every month for the last few years. I find it to be a good habit that keeps my writing and my mind fresh.


+ signifies breaks in sections of writing/poems

 

(MAY 2017)

How I bleed.

Let it fall down, marble, the cold sky. And the clouds are fat in the neat of the sky.

What are the words that break each other?

Up and out, down and inside it all.

How death becomes reality eventually for all of us.

+

How glass sounds, smashing glass,

smashing it all. The sting in the eardrums.

The sting of pain that bellows and coldly crumbles.

+

and situated coldly across the old sky wandering

her eyes reflected a pain that was not found.

In it all, was not found among the wreckage of her personality.

+

Why do we care about the theory of a god? the existence of one, at all?

What does that mean? All the power that corrupts the hearts of man.

+

Writing between us. Writing it all, climb into nowhere and pulverize, pulverize the summer sun. My heart beats, beats clean, crisp and cold all my eyes return into the holy error of death. Calm and sweet my body blossoms into nothing. I am nothing.

 

(JUNE 2017)

My mind  burns, could you find me, any colder? The eyes of my heart return to a death that I can no longer find. Why my body bends and breaks, closes completely.

+

Words written on these pages-what does everyone know? My blood burns like no one else, my mind poisonous to everyone. Burning them into a burning light but I am so cold.

+

My skin turns blue until there is nothing left of me until there is…nothing.

+

Sweet flowers that destroy you, into the forgotten night. My eyes drift silently into nothing.

+

What do the words mean? Do they mean anything? I’m not quite sure anymore.


 

If you are reading this Thank You for taking time out of your day to read my writing!

I hope you will return in the future!

-Alina

Hospital Stay: Flash Fiction Series #7

Hospital Stay

by

Alina Happy Hansen

He sits propped up on some pillows. The sick smell of bleach and antiseptic is inescapable. His neighbor groans in pain behind the curtain partition. The TV flickers every other minute, the signal weak. A voice calls to him from outside the opened window. His heart beats furiously. The voice of his dead mother reaches him, getting louder as he reaches for the call button. “Why did you say you wanted me to burn in hell?”


 

If you are reading this Thank You for taking time out of your day to read my writing!

I hope you will return in the future!

-Alina

Free Hand #38 (Buried)

Buried

 

The body rolls under

the poison, a hell, a heart

that devours and an endless

mind. Inhale the toxin,

thoughts plague

the distorted imagery

of reality. How does

the ocean sound

to a dead man

buried on the beach?


 

If you are reading this Thank You for taking time out of your day to read my writing!

I hope you will return in the future!

-Alina