Wendell Berry was a beloved farmer and conversationalist, English professor, forest lover, and writer from the hills of Kentucky. He wrote about land and how mankind must strive to use it ethically. Berry came from a long line of tobacco farmers. His father was famous for cofounding a farming co-op that matched supply and demand. The co-op served the people it was meant to serve: small, hardworking farmers.
During his lifetime, Berry got behind causes he believed in. He protested the Vietnam War and nuclear power. He marched on Washington in 2009 as part of a protest to bring about cleaner emissions. He opposed mountaintop removal mining in Kentucky. He worried about what is lost in modernization. He fought to preserve land, regional economies, and human health in local communities.
His relationship with the University of Kentucky, where he taught, became strained when he withdrew papers he had loaned to the school after the university accepted $7 million from a coal producer.
Berry published over 50 books of poetry, fiction, and essays and received many prestigious honors for his writing, such as the T.S. Eliot Award and the National Humanities Medal. The message in all his work remained clear, essentially that man must live in harmony with the earth. He was against large-scale farming controlled by large corporations that relied on chemical pesticides and fertilizers, promoted soil erosion, depleted aquifers, and drove small farms out of business, destroying local communities in the process. He himself used horses to work his own land and used organic fertilizers and pesticides.
His poetry themes include the countryside, the routines of farm and family, and spirituality found in the natural world. It has been said of Berry that he ennobled the commonplace. Here are two of his most famous poems.
What We Need Is Here by Wendell Berry
Geese appear high over us, pass, and the sky closes. Abandon, as in love or sleep, holds them to their way, clear in the ancient faith: what we need is here. And we pray, not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye, clear. What we need is here.
Virginia Watts is the author of poetry and stories found in The MacGuffin, Epiphany,CRAFT, The Florida Review, Reed Magazine, Pithead Chapel, Eclectica Magazine among others. She has been nominated four times for a Pushcart Prize. Her debut short story collection Echoes from the Hocker House was short listed for 2024 Eric Hoffer Grand Prize, selected as one of the Best Indie Books of 2023 by Kirkus Book Reviews, and won third place in the 2024 Feathered Quill Book Awards. Please visit her.
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If you’ve never written a poem in any voice but your own, you might want to try writing a persona poem—it may lead you down unexplored paths of creativity!
“A persona poem is a poem in which the poet speaks through an assumed voice….Also known as a dramatic monologue, this poetic form shares many characteristics with a theatrical monologue: an audience is implied; there is no dialogue; and the poet takes on the voice of a character, a fictional identity, or a persona.”
The voice you adopt when you write a persona poem can be a fictional, imaginary or historical character, an animal, an inanimate object, a collective such as a country, or even an omniscient god-like voice. This is when the fun begins!
In “Richard the Lionheart’s Mummified Heart Examined,” a poem inspired by a true story and reprinted in my latest collection, Stone & Star: Poems in Voices Across Time, I alternately adopt the voice of the King’s Minstrel, the Royal surgeon, Richard I, his wife Berengaria of Navarre, the heart itself, and the forensic scientists who examined the heart in modern times. Needless to say, this was a fun poem to write and the voices seemed to meld seamlessly to tell the story.
In psychological terms, Jung described persona as a social mask that conceals “the true nature of the individual.” The term originates from the theater in ancient Greece where actual masks were worn by actors on stage to represent different points of view.
However, I find that writing persona poetry rather than concealing, frees the writer to reveal their subjective truths to the reader without the constraints of their own personality.
Writing persona poetry is the closest I will ever come to acting, and I find it incredibly liberating. I first found my own voice via persona poetry and it is still my favorite poetical form to use.
When writing as a historical character, I do some research and try to read letters written by that person if they are available, to pick up some of their personal vocabulary. The way they address and sign their letters, their general tone, their “voice” is usually apparent and I use that to guide my own writing of the poem.
We were asked to write from the point of view of fictional or historical persons, animals or objects: one poet wrote from the perspective of Brown Beauty, the horse Paul Revere rode, some wrote from the perspective of symbols such as the Tree of Liberty or the Liberty Bell.
When writing as a fictional character, I try to stay within the confines of the work they appeared in, and use vocabulary suited to the time period of the novel. I have fun imagining what some fictional characters would say, given a chance, especially when in the original work they were not given much dialogue. In this spirit, I’ve given voice to Weena, the Time Traveler’s mostly mute companion in H.G. Well’s The Time Machine, and Nova, the beautiful mute heroine in the original 1968 Planet of the Apes film.
I find most of the persona poems I write are emotional in nature, speaking from the heart in a more direct and universal way than I could write from my own limited experience. Some writers may feel uncomfortable putting words into another’s mouth, so to speak. Unlike novelists or playwrights, who regularly write dialogue for fictional and in some cases historical characters, poets are used to thinking of their writing as highly personal and not open to other’s voices. But isn’t most poetry persona poetry, in a way? Because whenever we write, we almost unconsciously adopt a persona, a writing voice, that is not our everyday voice, but which nonetheless reflects our authentic and true nature.
Charles Bukowski wrote about the gamblers, the rejects, factory workers, his job at the post office, those who had lost their way, his cats, his typewriter, a radio he threw on the roof repeatedly. He drank too much, gambled too much, treated women poorly, treated his wife poorly. He threw away tradition in poetry and aimed straight for the gut with unflinching honesty. His poetry focused on pain and boredom, uselessness and hopelessness, old age, heavy drinking, the underbelly of trying to survive a working-class life or worse. He’s a cult hero. He inspired a counterculture in poetry that lives on and continues around the world. He is one of the unforgettables.
Yes, he was unapologetic and rough and crude sometimes. He wasn’t always a good person, but his fan base runs deep. An icon, worshipped by many for how he took the foundations of traditional poetry and stood them on their head. His is one of the most polarizing writers of our time and one of the most inspirational to artists, singers and of course writers. It’s true that his work explores uncomfortable and upsetting things like sexism, racism, homophobia, inebriation. He wanted to write about what life can be and often is whether we like it or not and not try to act otherwise. Like him or not, he will always be seen as leading the way for poetry for the common man. Poetry for people and not for poets. Poetry for the social outcasts. Honesty in poetry. I say YES to all of that.
He wrote more than 5000 thousand poems during his lifetime. I am a fan and an admirer of Charles Bukowski. When I read him as a younger writer, I was able to believe that it was okay if I wanted to write about everyday life and nothing else. That even someone like me could have some worth as a writer. He was not a fan of poets who are overly slick, the conformists, the poets who try to tell us what to do. In other words, there is no right or wrong way to be a poet. There are no subjects that aren’t worthy of a poem. If you are a human being, you can be a poet. Click the photo below to see a favorite of mine by Bukowski:
There were reasons in his life that led to Bukowski’s style. He suffered as the son of a harsh, abusive father and he also had a disfiguring acne condition. The only way to really appreciated Charles Bukowski is to read a book of his work or several. Read a lot of poems. In this way, you will see beyond the language, the bravado, the street fighter, the drinker. You will come to know the heart of a complicated man who cared very deeply about his fellow man. He wrote so much about human suffering because he worried about human suffering and not just his own.
He was the master of direct language. The hero of not holding back. In any case, you don’t have to like him or how he lived to fall in love with his poetry or at the least learn from it or be inspired by it. Even if you hate it, you’ll feel emotion and I think Hank would say that’s good enough for him. It’s fun to try and write a poem in the Bukowski style too as a poet. As poets we are always learning. Below is a poem I wrote with him in mind. Give it a try! And read you some Hank as soon as possible!!!
FAIRY DUST Virginia Watts
I never have anything to say to children I’ll do anything to avoid those little shoes hit the crapper, blow my nose bones make lovely dust the white and the wispy clouds the silver of angel wings peeking even though I don’t believe in angels this little tiger lily really cornered me stuck with a minimum wage dad like it wasn’t his fault scoring a six pack and some Beam before noon on Sunday she got herself up on that stool I don’t know how without breaking her neck How old. Four? set patent toes on the side of my bar stool and pushed off Spun that thing around and around like a pro when I joined in she giggled the corner of 9th and Fitzwater Street down a waterfall and out to sea he yanked her off that chair so hard I would have beaten the bejesus out of him if she hadn’t been there
Virginia Watts is the author of poetry and stories found in The MacGuffin, Epiphany,CRAFT, The Florida Review, Reed Magazine, Pithead Chapel, Eclectica Magazine among others. She has been nominated four times for a Pushcart Prize. Her debut short story collection Echoes from the Hocker House was short listed for 2024 Eric Hoffer Grand Prize, selected as one of the Best Indie Books of 2023 by Kirkus Book Reviews, and won third place in the 2024 Feathered Quill Book Awards. Please visit her.
Some flowers spread their fragrance in spring, some tease us until late summer: just when we think they’re dried up, spent, they surprise us with an explosion of blooms!
I’ve always had a soft spot for the late bloomers of literature. (Maybe because I myself identify as a late bloomer!) As thrilling as it is to read about young prodigies like S.E. Hinton of The Outsiders fame, (she wrote that book as a high school senior!), the late bloomers are just as amazing to me.
What is considered a late bloomer in literature? The general consensus seems to be a writer whose first major work is produced after age 40.
Debra Eve, publisher of the website Later Bloomer (now an archival site) has collected many fascinating essays and information about late bloomers in all fields of life, including literature and poetry.
Bloom (via Substack now) is another site devoted to the late bloomers in life.
This Write and Journal article states that late-blooming authors are more common than we think and why this may be a forward trend.
Eva Q. Tennant’s article on late bloomers shows how “the creative spark doesn’t dim with age — it deepens.”
One of my personal favorite literary late bloomers is Mary Wesley, who turned to writing adult fiction in her 70s and went on to write ten bestsellers in the last twenty years of her life! I learned of her work via the 1992 mini-series adaptation of one of her most well-known novels, The Camomile Lawn.
In poetry, there are many later bloomers, but one that may not come to mind is Thomas Hardy, whose early fame was built on his 14 novels, but who considered himself a poet and wrote poetry for 30 years before publishing his first collection when he was 58. After that, during the rest of his life, he published only poetry.
When I think of late bloomers, writer Winifred Watson also comes to mind, not because she was a late bloomer herself, but she wrote about an older woman experiencing a Cinderella-like transformation in Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, an experience that mirrored her own rise to fame in late life when her novel was rediscovered and republished by Persephone Books and made into a delightful film of the same name in 2008 starring the incomparable Frances McDomand. This article on Anne Sebba’s site discusses how Watson’s unlikely second act came about.
So tell me, who are some of your favorite late bloomers? Please share in the comments!
A lot of poets would rather wrestle an octopus than read one of their poems aloud. I am particularly creeped out by octopi, and I would take the octopus over the live event. When I was a young writer, twenties and thirties, I could not wait to perform my work. I always got good responses, as well, to my live readings, so I was so excited to do them. Now, though, standing in front of a room feels strangely vulnerable. I get so nervous I find myself choked up. As a young writer I had a lot of very kind teachers who were delightfully excited about my writing. When I look back at that “young” writing, I don’t think it was very good, so I wonder at that. But their support was marvelous. These days there’s no teacher to be wowed before I go out and attempt to wow the crowd, so I do feel especially …. clumsy, for lack of a better word.
Here’s the thing, though: audiences don’t expect perfection. They aren’t looking for a Broadway actor or a professional voice-over artist. They just want to hear the person who wrote the poem, read the poem. We have a few people every issue of Instant Noodles who record themselves reading their poems, and those always get more hits than the non-readers. Reading your own work gives people something the printed page can’t. They hear where you pause, which words you linger over, and where you smile without realizing it. Even a quiet, slightly nervous reading can help a listener connect with your poem in a new way.
You don’t have to book a poetry reading to do this. Prop your phone against a coffee mug, press record, and read your poem. Actually, if you want to look your best, prop your phone on something eye-level or higher, pointing down. Practice positioning until you feel confident you look okay. I often record myself on Zoom so I have more control over my look. Just open a Zoom account and hop into the “Personal Room” and hit RECORD. If you stumble over a line, pause and start over, in you’re on Zoom, or, if you’re on your phone, stop that recording and start another. Then read it again. Nobody has to know it took three tries. (I won’t tell if you won’t. Sometimes, when I record things, I need a calculator to count the tries!) If video isn’t your thing, record the audio instead. Share it in your newsletter, post it on social media, or add it to your website. You’d be surprised how many people enjoy hearing a poem in the poet’s own voice. It adds a warmth and familiarity the printed work doesn’t give. And, when I’ve listened to some of my favorite poets, I’ve been surprised by one or two who came across as decidedly… different from what I had expected. That added a new depth to the writing that really intrigued me. I would love to hear more of our Instant Noodles authors reader their work.
Next time, I’ll look at how one poem can become several meaningful posts without feeling like you’re repeating yourself.
Sometimes a writer submits a poem to Instant Noodles Literary Magazine, it gets published, and we never hear from that writer again. It’s almost as though the poem completed its mission in life and quietly retired to a folder on a laptop.
I’ve always found that a little surprising.
We work for weeks, sometimes months, on a poem. We submit it. We wait forever. We get the acceptance email, do a little happy dance in the kitchen (or maybe that’s just me), share the publication with a few friends, and then we’re off chasing the next shiny poem. But publication isn’t the end of a poem’s life. It’s the beginning of its conversation with readers.
Most people who would enjoy your work probably haven’t seen it. They don’t subscribe to the journal that published it. They weren’t refreshing the editor’s website waiting for the new issue to drop. They’re just people who like good poetry and would be delighted if your work happened to cross their path. So don’t be afraid to let a published poem keep doing its job. Read it at an open mic. Share a favorite line on social media. Tell the story behind it in your newsletter. Mention it on your website. Include it in a future reading. You spent a long time writing that poem. It has probably earned the right to stick around a little longer than the three days it spent on your Facebook page before disappearing beneath photos of someone’s lunch and a cousin’s vacation.
Next week, we’ll talk about one of the simplest ways to give a poem a longer life: reading it aloud. Don’t worry. Nobody says you have to sound like Lauren Bacall. Though if you do, I’m a little jealous.
I’ve been on a lucky kick lately finding great books to read. I have a group of friends and relatives who love to read as much as I do, and we share book ideas almost every week. I’m not content when I don’t have a good book going. Often, when I am busy running errands, ticking off my list of appointments and other life tasks, in the back of my mind I am thinking: When I am done with all of this, I can go home and read my book! It’s my reward. My joy. My salvation. And I am clearly not alone. Many people love to read and there are some good reasons why.
Reading is very good for the health of your brain. Reading expands and strengthens neural pathways. It has been shown to improve memory. People who read regularly are better at retaining complex information. They concentrate better. This is because when you read you must focus your mind.
Reading also lowers your stress level and cortisol levels significantly. Even when you read for a short time, your heart rate slows and your muscles relax. Reading is likened to meditation. When you read you step away from your own life and your own unique anxieties. It’s a true calming of you mind even though your mind is busy. It’s believed to be better at lowering your blood pressure than listening to music or watching tv. If you read before bed, your mind gets the message that it is time to slow down. You are likely to fall asleep faster and sleep more deeply. Reading at night helps you push your own worries away.
There have been several studies that have shown that reading regularly provides some protection against cognitive decline and may even delay the onset of conditions such as dementia and Alzheimer’s. Long terms studies also show that reading increases your lifespan.
Another benefit to regular reading is that it makes us better people. When you read you experience all kinds of characters, lives, and places that improve your knowledge of the world and helps you have a better understanding of people who are different from you. People who have different lives and different beliefs. This makes you more empathetic. This translates into better relationships and social skills. Reading is a bridge to understanding others. Apparently, the most empathy comes from reading literary fiction as opposed to nonfiction.
It has also been shown that for people experiencing some forms of mild depression, reading self-help books can assist with recovery. Medical experts can provide a list of recommended books.
The world’s most successful and wealthy people are often avid readers with a strong desire for knowledge. Bill Gates. Oprah Winfrey. Elon Musk. Reading can also help with loneliness and social isolation because it often leads to book groups, whether face to face or online. Also, with public libraires and low-cost subscriptions for tablets, reading is not expensive.
Here is my recent list of books I would recommend. I enjoyed every word and I hope you do too. Cheers and keep those pages turning! Ginny
Virginia Watts is the author of poetry and stories found in The MacGuffin, Epiphany,CRAFT, The Florida Review, Reed Magazine, Pithead Chapel, Eclectica Magazine among others. She has been nominated four times for a Pushcart Prize. Her debut short story collection Echoes from the Hocker House was short listed for 2024 Eric Hoffer Grand Prize, selected as one of the Best Indie Books of 2023 by Kirkus Book Reviews, and won third place in the 2024 Feathered Quill Book Awards. Please visit her.
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.”
~ Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, spoken by Juliet, Act 2, Scene 2
Today I am writing about a subject dear to my heart—choosing titles for poems.
The opportunity to name something you created should not be wasted. You’d think people would give this more attention than they actually do.
Back in the 80s, there was a best-selling book called The Name Game and its main premise was that your name was your destiny. If you wanted your child to be popular, excel in school and marry well, you had to be very careful what you named that little baby in the bassinet.
It would seem to follow that naming your poem merits some consideration as well!
To be clear, I’m no expert and I’m not denigrating any method you may be in the habit of using to choose your titles (or name your children!). But I have a keen interest in this subject and it seems to be a somewhat neglected area of discussion in poetry.
Just to see if maybe something on this subject was buried in books about writing poetry, I checked out a few classic poetry craft books: Ted Kooser’s The Poetry Home Repair Manual and Robert Pinsky’s Singing School. Kooser devotes a few pages to the subject. Pinsky mentions nothing about titles but does provide lots of examples of classic poem titles to peruse.
I then checked in the library catalog of a library of 2 million+ volumes, and only ONE book comes up under the LC classification subject heading: Titles of poems, it is a book called The Title to the Poem by Anne Ferry. She explores the subject in depth, asking questions like “Who gives the title? Who has the title? Who “says” the poem? Who “hears” the poem? What genre does the poem belong to? What is the poem “about”?” and considers the deeper aspects of titling poems: “There are complex relationships between what titles purport to tell and what they actually tell, and this is true not only of titles so worded that they demand interpretation, but also of those that appear straightforward.”
A title can anchor a poem in space and time, giving the reader some necessary context with which to begin reading and enjoying it. For example, a recent poem I wrote I entitled:
“Native, Antilles High School, Ft. Buchanan, Puerto Rico”
I could have just named it “Native” but the place and the time were very relevant to understanding the background of this poem, so the title’s subtitle in this case was very important.
Similarly, a poem entitled “An Evening Encounter at the Arecibo Observatory” gives the reader a lot of information, the time, the place, and the sense that this encounter is not going to be an ordinary one, given the nature of the place!
A title can lend specificity and a sense of fun at the same time: For example, “At the Mayan Monkey Mijas Chocolate Factory” (and yes, this place really exists!)
First of all, how can you visit a place called the Mayan Monkey Mijas Chocolate Factory and NOT write a poem about it and use that name in the title?? However, I later thought I really should have called it “Touring the Mayan Monkey Mijas Chocolate Factory” and that would have conveyed even more relevant information because I was a tourist, not someone who worked there or a local who regularly visited, for example. This title conveys a specific place (Mijas, Spain), history and culture (Mayan), fun (monkeys!) and sensory detail (the aroma of chocolate) and opens all sorts of questions in the reader’s mind, such as: What does a chocolate factory in Mijas have to do with Mayan monkeys?
“…titles are hard to get just right and do really important work–namely, a great title shows the reader how to read a poem.
A poem’s title is where the reader is introduced to a poet, an invitation from the poet into the depths of a poem’s magic. This is, essentially, the main job description of a title: to welcome its readers at the doorway of the poem and to draw them inside. However, the specific function titles perform can vary.”
“As a poet, I haven’t always put as much emphasis on titles, but working as a reader and then an editor for a literary journal really changed that for me. When I was in that role I had to read about a thousand poems over the period of two months. This is not an uncommon experience for editors or readers. I had to pick around ten poems out of all these poems to share with others. But after reading so many they all started to merge together in my mind. It didn’t help that a number of them had the same title. Sometimes I’d try and remember a poem I liked, but then ended up not finding it because while I remembered part of the poem I didn’t remember the title.”
This problem would be exacerbated during the judging of a poetry contest, for example, and could keep your poem from winning an award! Imagine a judge reading dozens of poems called “A Dream” for example and trying to remember which one they liked best!
I think the approach of giving memorable titles to poems helped me when, after winning the 2nd annual Writer’s Digest poetry award with “Respiratory Tech at the Vietnam Memorial, 1989,” (which conveyed the speaker, place and time) I followed it up several years later with “The Menopausal Mermaid Takes Medical Advice” which came in at #36, I think. If you keep in mind that the first contest had ~4200 entries, and was only in its 2nd year, so the entries probably ballooned afterwards to even higher numbers, the importance of a memorable title becomes all the more obvious.
I think the saddest thing I see is “Untitled” as a title. I’m sure there are many brilliant poems by that title (though I can’t think of any off hand), and of course many poets just use the first line of their poem as a title, as per Emily Dickinson (but then again, most of her poems were not meant for publication.) But I feel like not giving your poem a title is a lost opportunity to engage with your reader on a different level.
He does warn that any technique used too often can quickly become monotonous, though.
His final advice should resonate with any poet: “A title doesn’t have to be clever, poetic, or punchy — but it should be deliberate. It’s the invitation, the signpost, the spell. It’s the first poem the reader reads, even before the first line. So give your poems the names they deserve.”
One of poetry’s great strengths is its ability to capture a moment of recognition.
Or, in some cases, a moment of misrecognition.
Toni Artuso’s “To the Woman Waiting on the Train Station Platform” begins with observation. The speaker notices a woman dressed in striking over-the-knee boots, a miniskirt, and a dark jacket. The details are vivid. The woman commands attention. She appears confident, glamorous, and perhaps a little intimidating.
Like the speaker, readers begin constructing a story.
Who is she?
Where is she going?
What kind of person dresses like this on a cold day?
The poem invites us to ask these questions while quietly reminding us that we don’t actually know the answers.
What follows is a wonderful example of how poetry can examine the assumptions we make about strangers. We see someone for a few moments and immediately begin filling in the blanks. Clothing becomes personality. Posture becomes character. Appearance becomes identity.
Then comes the turn.
The woman looks back.
Suddenly, the speaker notices traces of adolescent acne beneath carefully applied makeup. It is a small detail, but it changes everything. The glamorous stranger becomes a human being with a history. The mystery remains, but the distance narrows.
What I admire about the poem is its restraint. It never tells us what to think about the woman. It simply shows us how quickly we create stories about people we do not know and how easily those stories can be disrupted by a single unexpected detail.
In only a few lines, Artuso moves from attraction and curiosity to something deeper: empathy.
The poem also feels particularly well suited to its author. Toni Artuso is an emerging, and as she humorously describes herself, “aging” trans writer from Salem, Massachusetts. Her work has appeared in numerous publications, including The Christian Science Monitor, The Ekphrastic Review, Salamander, and Honeyguide Literary Magazine, which nominated one of her villanelles for both a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net.
Reading this poem, I found myself thinking about how often we mistake appearance for understanding. We notice what is visible and assume we know the rest. Yet every person carries experiences, struggles, triumphs, and insecurities that remain hidden from view.
The woman on the platform remains largely unknown to us. That is precisely why the poem succeeds. Artuso allows her to remain a stranger while reminding us that strangers are always more complicated than the stories we tell ourselves about them.
Long after I finished reading the poem, I found myself returning to that final image. Not because it answers the mystery of who the woman is, but because it reminds us how much of every human being remains unseen.
Have you ever imagined the life of a stranger?
There are so many more wonderful works to read, listen to, and see. Visit Instant Noodles!
