Time to rhyme, or how to know it when you want to be a poet...
During lockdown, so many of us rediscovered the restorative power of a damn good poem. But is it an art that’s hard to master? Inaugural Poetry Ireland poet in residence, Catherine Ann Cullen says we probably all have one decent poem in us.
Just the one?
“Yes, to sustain the quality is the challenge.” So too is finding a subject. During Covid, Cullen’s Poetry Prompts delivered daily inspiration. That’s the thing about poetry; it doesn’t have to be about what it looks like it’s about. In fact, the theme is usually very different from the subject.
Isn’t that a bit Leaving Cert-ey?
School can dampen the joy of poetry, especially if you’re not a big reader. “Having to respond in a way that will satisfy an examiner, to navigate a sea of images, themes and language, creates anxiety.” But sit with a poem and let it, as Cullen puts it “sieve through you to find what is left of it in you”, and get back the magic.
That feels better, so where do I start?
Inspiration can come from anywhere, and Cullen should know. She is a poet, songwriter and children’s writer whose seventh book is a retelling the story of Brigid’s miraculous cloak for kids. Her next will be on Dublin’s lost street poets and tenement balladeers: proving you can be both eclectic and successful. Obvious starting points include “an event that has stuck in your mind; a perspective you want to take, the voice of a character, creature or object; a story you want to tell”.
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Give me the rules…
Poetry you write for yourself can be different from poetry that works in the world. “Like all art, it is therapeutic, but that’s not enough to make it art. I hope that doesn’t seem elitist, but poetry needs to be more than therapy for the writer, it also needs to be satisfying, crafted for the reader.” So, first up, poetry doesn’t have to rhyme. And while you might fancy trying a sonnet, a villanelle or a haiku, you don’t need to stick to a particular form. In poetic terms, villanelle is not the charismatic assassin from Killing Eve, but a rigorously structured poem made up of five tercets followed by a quatrain.
Stop, you’re killing me!
“Rules are to be broken,” says Cullen, which is a relief. But guidelines help. “As in all writing, showing not telling can be important. The ‘telling’ in a poem might mean directing the reader too strongly. Get out before you sum it up!” It’s like a good short story, she says.
“You want to leave the reader to do some work themselves, you don’t want to end like Aesop with the Moral couplet. One good image is worth a thousand words. Getting the balance right between how much to show and what effect you want is a skill that takes time.”
I think I’ve got it: lots of images, and some fancy flourishes, yes?
No! “Setting out to be ‘poetic’ and over-egging the pudding is a common failing,” according to Cullen. “As is “using ‘jawbreakers’, archaic words or flowery language, straining your own capacity to inhabit the poem and make it real”.
Okay, so how do I know when it’s finished?
“Some poems just feel finished. They take you in and through and show you out, or leave you with an image resonating. Some seem finished to the reader but not the writer,” says Cullen.
“I’m still triggered by the occasional not-quite-right word or phrase in poems I published years ago. Writing can be maddening, stressful and elusive,” she continues. “But it is also the most joyful experience.”
Catherine Ann Cullen’s The Song of Brigid’s Cloak, illustrated by Katya Swan is published by Beehive Books
