Walt Whitman – OLD SCRATCH PRESS

Writing poetry is a personal, introspective experience, a way to communicate our innermost feelings as art.

Enter politics. Around the United States, around the globe humans are in conflict. It doesn’t matter which side you agree with, we all have our opinions, even if our opinion is to try and ignore the chatter.

Poetry, for centuries, has been a way for artists to convey their opinions. Attend a political rally and you’ll hear speeches, chants, songs. A number of poems have become beloved “classics” and they just might inspire you to write a few of your own.

If We Must Die

By Claude McKay

Claude McKay, 1889-1948 was born in Jamaica who later moved to the U.S. and lived abroad for a number of years., was a key figure in the Harlem Renaissance, a prominent literary movement of the 1920s. His published work included poetry, essays, a short story collection and several novels.

If we must die, let it not be like hogs

Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,

While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,

Making their mock at our accursèd lot.

If we must die, O let us nobly die,

So that our precious blood may not be shed

In vain; then even the monsters we defy

Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!

O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe!

Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,

And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!

What though before us lies the open grave?

Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,

Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!

Beat! Beat! Drums!

By Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman,1819-1892, is regarded as one of America’s important 19^th century poets. During the Civil War, while working as a desk clerk in Washington D.C., he visited wounded soldiers in his spare time.

Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!

Through the windows—through doors—burst like a ruthless force,

Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation,

Into the school where the scholar is studying,

Leave not the bridegroom quiet—no happiness must he have now with his bride,

Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering his grain,

So fierce you whirr and pound you drums—so shrill you bugles blow.

Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!

Over the traffic of cities—over the rumble of wheels in the streets;

Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? no sleepers must sleep in those beds,

No bargainers’ bargains by day—no brokers or speculators—would they continue?

Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?

Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?

Then rattle quicker, heavier drums—you bugles wilder blow.

Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!

Make no parley—stop for no expostulation,

Mind not the timid—mind not the weeper or prayer,

Mind not the old man beseeching the young man,

Let not the child’s voice be heard, nor the mother’s entreaties,

Make even the trestles to shake the dead where they lie awaiting the hearses,

So strong you thump O terrible drums—so loud you bugles blow.

London

By William Blake

William Blake, 1792-1827, was an English visionary painter, engraver and poet of modest means who lived in London. In June 1780, Blake found himself in the midst of a riot calling for an end to the war on the American colonies. Often in his work, he questioned the status quo of the traditional order of society.

I wander thro’ each charter’d street,

Near where the charter’d Thames does flow.

And mark in every face I meet

Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man,

In every Infants cry of fear,

In every voice: in every ban,

The mind-forg’d manacles I hear

How the Chimney-sweepers cry

Every blackning Church appalls,

And the hapless Soldiers sigh

Runs in blood down Palace walls

But most thro’ midnight streets I hear

How the youthful Harlots curse

Blasts the new-born Infants tear

And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse

If one of your resolutions for 2024 was to write more poetry, there’s never a better time than now.

Maybe wake up a little earlier, take a mid-day break, any time of the day will do, but just write a first draft without censoring your thoughts. For tips on revisions and the submission process, click here.

And to get you a little more hyped, here are a few places that are open for submissions this month, January 2024.

Opportunities for Poets in January

Rock Paper Poem

https://rockpaperpoem.com/submit.html?fbclid=IwAR3hbef037kzvt0BbN3r64V2EDIZXtOrloRXAcvrIM8nkDR66_s0BOw7cSE

Poem Alone

https://poemalone.blogspot.com/?fbclid=IwAR2njw45cL46szMDrDeBWN9qv0UnZgEJT8bNLeicL-5stZdVv3_KqWKyMps

Beakful

https://beakful.blogspot.com/?fbclid=IwAR2dqEQh7rE2bq_StnfndCKnfSN4YmwoXQnCSeVdSLXbvmR-PhMJTqEU3xQ

Raven Poem Competition

Submit

Strix. (no simultaneous submissions)

https://www.strixleeds.com/submit

Black Iris

https://www.blackirispoetry.com/new-page

Lascaux Review

Submissions

Acumen

https://acumen-poetry.co.uk/submissions-guide/

Allegro Poetry Magazine

https://www.allegropoetry.org/p/submit.html

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By Nadja Maril

Today I was attending an online workshop led by CNF writer and poet Nicole Breit and she was talking about different writing forms. One of those forms was the list format, which Nicole has used in her essay entitled, Atmospheric Pressure, published in Room Magazine. Her lyric list form essay jumps backwards and forwards in time to convey the cycle of grief

The mention of lists, immediately brought to mind flash prose. Plenty of flash fiction and CNF flash stories use the list form. Just think of what kind of story you can tell with a curated shopping list, a packing list, or list of desired skills in the Help Wanted section of the classifieds.

Before Nicole began focusing on writing memoir, she was writing poetry, Many of her creative ideas for creative nonfiction come from poetry, which got me to thinking about List Poetry.

Simply stated, a list poem consists of a list of images or adjectives. The compilation of the items as a group creates the poem. By their nature, List Poems use repetition. They also often use what is called anaphora, the reoccurrence of the same sound to create a driving rhythm.

An old favorite poem of mine is by Alice Duer Miller (1874-1942) who was very active in the American suffragette movement.

Why We Oppose Pockets for Women

By Alice Duer Miller

1. Because pockets are not a natural right.
2. Because the great majority of women do not want pockets. If they did they would have them.
3. Because whenever women have had pockets they have not used them.
4. Because women are required to carry enough things as it is, without the additional burden of pockets.
5. Because it would make dissension between husband and wife as to whose pockets were to be filled.
6. Because it would destroy man’s chivalry toward woman, if he did not have to carry all her things in his pockets.
7. Because men are men, and women are women. We must not fly in the face of nature.
8. Because pockets have been used by men to carry tobacco, pipes, whiskey flasks, chewing gum and compromising letters. We see no reason to suppose that women would use them more wisely.

Another famous poem that also takes the form of a list, is Walt Witman’s (1819-1892) I Hear America Singing.

Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com

I Hear America Singing

By Walt Whitman

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day—at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

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Tag: Walt Whitman

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