<![CDATA[Neo-Victorian Poetry

<![CDATA[Neo-Victorian Poetry - Blog]]>Sun, 09 Aug 2026 01:23:18 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[Tentative Inspiration]]>Sun, 09 Aug 2026 01:55:52 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/tentative-inspiration

“O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.” William Shakespeare

Even William Shakespeare, (1564 to 1616), had trouble with his muse, chiding it as being uncooperative or entirely absent. His sonnets are replete with his complaints about this. In Sonnet 100 he chides, "Where art thou Muse that thou forget'st so long." I guess I’m in good company here.

Recently I was inspired to write, “Love cast a net of silken weave upon a sea of Hope” … and then silence. I was left hanging, wondering what to do with this lovely introduction to a poem. All of my attempts to continue fell utterly flat. And so it was for a few days until, frustrated, I just gave up.

Suddenly a new sentence arrived, “And gathered without injury all there within its scope” … and then, again, nothing. I kept wondering where this poem was going and, again, I tried to remedy it on my own. Nope, my muse definitely wasn’t in the mood. I added that sentence, closed the page, and walked away.

Some poems feel as though they flow out of my pen all on their own, while many require a lot of work, but this one, for all of its initial promise, just sat there silently staring at me … until very, very late one night as I was all hunkered to sleep. My muse has the most obnoxious timing.

Even after this late night vigil with my pen the poem still wasn’t done. I could sense that there was more to be added. The next day as I sat with that poem it all came together and not in ways I half expected. With a few little tweaks it was done, at last! Here is that poem:

Love Cast A Net

They’d lived with strife for centuries
Once greed and lust took root.
Alas, there seemed no remedy
For all attempts fell moot.
Love cast a net of silken weave
Upon that sea of Hope
And gathered without injury
All there within its scope
Then lifted them so carefully.
To cradle in soft hands.
Love twinned this bounty perfectly
Regardless of their plans
Then gingerly all are released,
Now freely they could cope
As pairs and swim agreeably
Within that sea of Hope.

JaniceT

]]><![CDATA[Bye bye blog ...]]>Tue, 30 Jun 2026 03:50:18 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/bye-bye-blog

This blog began in 2013 on a free site called Weebly. I designed it's layout from scratch and was pleased to post my thoughts regarding poetry on a weekly basis. Then myriad illnesses kept me at bay, and by the time that I was well enough to resume the site malfunctioned, followed by painstaking steps to repair it.

The initial site for this blog, Weebly, was always a free. And then came its acquisition by Square Inc., which was later acquired by Block Ink. Suddenly I was being charged a fee to use this site. Then the fee charges increased, which I dutifully paid. However, the latest fee charge for this site is now beyond my means to pay.

Thus, I've had to make the unhappy choice of relinquishing this blog to the ether. To those of you who have followed my work here, I thank you so very much. I am hoping to resurrect these and future pages elsewhere. Until then, I bid you a fond adieu.

JaniceT

]]><![CDATA[Retirement Is Not An Option]]>Sat, 16 May 2026 23:19:34 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/retirement-is-not-an-option

Apparently, age is not a factor in writing output. Robert Browning, who died at the age of 77 in 1889, was still actively writing up until the end. He passed away a few days after hearing that this last book, "Parleyings with Certain People of Importance in Their Day" had completely sold out upon release. I happen to own a 1st edition of that volume.

Some of Browning's contemporaries also passed away at advanced ages, including the following:

Walter Savage Landor (1775–1864)): Died at 89
Thomas Carlyle (1795–1881): Died at 85
Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809)–1892)): Died at 83

So, on June 23rd I will turn 75, and I've been writing since I was 11. In any other situation one might have burned out by now. Surprisingly, I find it to be quite the opposite for me. Though I've occasionally run dry from time to time through the years I haven't yet run out of subjects to write about. In fact, I've been writing much more poetry lately.

The day on which we released my latest book, "Young Girl In Trouble," I wrote two more poems, and then even more. so that the tally of my newest works which are not yet included in that book is 24. Since this book is a little thin we will now be adding these poems into it and republishing it as a thicker volume. Days after making this decision I composed yet another 8 new poems, which we will are now setting aside for yet another book.

Based on this, do I think that writing poems tends to extend one's longevity? While I find it to be a very peaceful and, for me, therapeutic exercise, I don't consider it to be a virtual Fountain of Youth, but it may well help. At this time I have no intent to stop composing poetry. So long as my Muse is willing and there is ink in my pen, so to speak, I look forward to continuing.

Onward to the next one ...

]]><![CDATA[What compells this poet to write?]]>Thu, 30 Apr 2026 14:26:04 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/what-compells-this-poet-to-write

Well, it certainly isn't for fame nor fortune. The days of juggernaut sales in rhyming, metered, verse were eclipsed long ago in favor of modern free verse and other such subgenera of true poetry. The pronouncement from formerly failed writer Charles Bucowski that "Proper poetry is dead poetry even if it looks good." was born out of his, (I believe), misunderstanding of "true poetry," but it stuck like a wayward thorn, nonetheless.

And it stings a bit that for all of my published works in the form of, to date, seven books that these works don't fetch much financially. I have no illusions that they will ever be a lucrative venture for me. A few years ago I did fairly well in signing and vending my books from my author tables in various writer's conventions, but I am no longer able to do so as there is a cost to managing an author table, both financially and physically ... neither of which I can currently afford.

This isn't so much a rant as a confession. I'm sure that even in this climate of negative sentiment over my style of writing I might be seeing at least some sales if I'd just hitch my star to some association of prominent writers. But sadly, none that I have approached will currently count me in their ranks.

So what drives me to write so much for so long? Quite frankly, I simply can't help myself. I was hooked on writing poetry at the age of eleven and it has been my unwavering solace ever since. Whether I ever see any monetary gain from my works is well beside the point for me, though it might be nice ...

]]><![CDATA[Form And Function]]>Sun, 29 Mar 2026 19:57:41 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/form-and-function

Frank Vincent Zappa, the highly quotable band leader of The Mothers of Invention, was a man of many, many wonderful talents. He once said:

“The most important thing in art is the frame. for painting: literally; for other arts: figuratively-- because, without this humble appliance, you can't know where The Art stops and The Real World begins. You have to put a 'box' around it because otherwise, what is that s... on the wall?”

I've made no bones over the years about my distaste for most of the works in prose I've encountered, with some notable exceptions. I've even tried my hand at writing in prose in order to better understand that form and to expand beyond my own boundaries. Still, I am mostly unimpressed.

The boundaries I've insisted on in my own work, ever since I was 11 years old, are my Frame, my form: unforced rhyming, strict meter, and that a poem is understandable, even if it takes a little pondering. Prose, that underling to poetry, only rarely affords some of that.

The modern pushback against "the old ways" of Iambic Pentameter and it's lyrical nuances can be squarely laid on the doormat of Charles Bukowski who had great difficulty getting his raw approach to writing noticed and published. He is quoted as insisting that, "Proper poetry is dead poetry even if it looks good." ... sigh ...

Well, quite frankly, Frank Zappa was spot on!!!

]]><![CDATA[Too Much Racket!]]>Sat, 21 Mar 2026 16:40:55 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/too-much-racket

I hunkered down at a reasonable time one night, but I didn't sleep at all. A poem, and then another poem, insisted I write them down! Just as my new book is ready to publish and on the very verge of releasing I keep writing new verses ... ten new poems, so far ... and they just won't stop coming!!!

I suppose I should be thankful that at the age of 75 I'm still going strong with writing poetry. However, it sometimes takes a toll on me. I often lose sleep due to a poem insisting on being worked on, fine tuned, and finally finished. I am retired and can usually catch up on some missed sleep, but when I've been up for twentyfour hours straight working on a piece or two it takes longer to recover.

It's, of course, hardest when I have appointments or some other obligations to attend to and am dreamy-eyed drowsy most of that day. But occasionally I'm able to jot down the gist of a poem and lay it down for the night. And yes, I do usually write at night because that's when the juices work best fo me.

For me, it's not just a matter of sitting there writing Free Verse ... AKA, jotting down whatever comes to mind. My craft usually involves being tethered to the poem and working intimately with it in all its facets. It's rather like holding a raw diamond, turning it all around, and painstakingly chiseling it into a fine gem.

Needless to say, I do make sure to get some sleep when I can, but poetry takes precedence over this. I can always find sleep but I can't recover a dismissed poem for sleep. Ain't gonna happen.

]]><![CDATA[So, who is this "Muse" I speak of?]]>Wed, 11 Mar 2026 04:22:49 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/so-who-is-this-muse-i-speak-of

I often refer to my muse using the personal pronouns of she/her. In truth, I have come to think of my Muse is the Holy Spirit, but to say so leads into the whole “gender of God” issue, which is not my intent here. God made us, both male and female, in His image, after all … but that’s a topic for another day, or another blog site.

In fact, I find it difficult to take full credit for the poems that I write, and am often surprised when and where a poem lands. Many times something is revealed in my compositions that I just did't see coming! Or a piece will veer in directions I hadn't anticipated.

Given my writing history of more than sixty years ... that writers go way back in my ancestry ... and the massive amount of research I've done from the beginning, one might think me a genius all unto myself. But, no. I always sense that I am writing in concert with "someone" else and that I am very much being guided along the way.

I've often cited that I don't always know what's been on my mind until I read it on the page. And, along with being surprised with the finished poem, I learn things I hadn't actually considered. I suppose it sounds like automatic writing, except that I am very much involved in word choice and so forth. This is very much a partner ship between myself and "someone"

So, I view my Muse in a somewhat classical sense: as one of the nine goddesses who embody and inspire literature, science, and the arts, serving as the source of knowledge for poetry and song . No Greek goddesses were ever involved in my work, but you get what I mean.

That being said, I look foreward to what's next on "our" poetical agenda.

]]><![CDATA[But For My Thesaurus ...]]>Tue, 03 Mar 2026 20:28:48 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/but-for-my-thesaures

Dr. Peter Mark Roget, (1779–1869), earned his MD from the University of Edinburgh at the age of 19 in 1808. He went on to become a highly prestigious physician. However, he suffered from depression.

He found that list-making helped him to manage his mental health as well as assisting him in finding specific words. Beginning in 1805, he started arranging words by ideas and classifying them into 1,000 categories. rather then defaulting to the traditional style of alphabetical dictionaries.

After retiring from his career as a physician in the 1840's, Dr. Roget turned his list into a formal, publishable work. In 1852 he released it as The Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases. Since it's first publication it has been continually in print.

Growing up in my Poetry bubble, from the age of 11, I always clutched my Roget's Thesaurus close and at the ready. I'd dig into it whenever I needed a synonym: an alternate word for the one I had though to use in a poem. Due to this habit, my vocabulary grew and grew.

Much later, from my author table at book conventions, I always advised young and upcoming poets to do likewise, and to read, read, read the best poetry they had access to ... essentially, to indulge in that published community, living or not. Sometimes that's the only opportunity we have of being in the company of other poets. I works for me!

Thanks to my lifelong reliance on Roget's Thesaurus, needful synonyms pop into my head with little heeding. I do still ocassionally refer to my Thesaurus these days, but mainly to verify that the word I've selected is the correct one or the best one, but far less than I did in the past.

This poet is ever so thankful for Dr. Peter Mark Roget's work.

]]><![CDATA[Is my Muse lonely at night?]]>Sun, 22 Feb 2026 18:31:36 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/is-my-muse-lonely-at-night

I don't often consult with AI. However, I asked the following question of the internet at large: "Why do I get so creative in the wee hours?" AI responded thusly: "You get your best ideas in the wee hours because your brain shifts from focused, analytical thinking (left-brain) to more relaxed, associative creative thinking (right-brain) due to reduced daytime distractions, less critical filtering from fatigue, and entering a hypnagogic state (just before sleep), allowing for novel connections and "aha!" moments. This mental state, similar to daydreaming or showering, lets your subconscious wander freely, fostering insight."

That actually seems to fit my situation handsomely, but being dogged by my Muse when I should be sleeping is most inconvenient. I have learned to compromise and suffer a little less sleep by getting up, writing the poem or the idea down, and letting it go till morning. I don't need to work through the night finishing the poem so long as I've jotted down the gist of it.

Otherwise, I risk the loss of what could have been a good poem. I have had to deal with that loss too many times. And although my mind will often continue to work on the piece a while longer, that actually makes me sleepy again. It feels sort of like listening to a fairy tale at that point and I can relax with it.

A win win for me.

]]><![CDATA[My Muse woke me up ... again]]>Sun, 11 Jan 2026 03:24:44 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/my-muse-woke-me-up-again

It's the wee hours, and I'm fast asleep, when my Muse wakes me up with an idea, and I find myself strenuously bidden to get up and write it down. Such was the case with the following poem:

There's a Pill For That

Doc is in the office
Pulling up your chart
Eyeing all your symptoms
Matching part to part
Like a good mechanic
Knows his list by heart
Bottles at the ready
Lifts one from his cart:
"There's a pill for that."

Took the stuff he gave me.
Waited through the night.
Knew by early morning
Something wasn’t right
Vision got all blurry
Stomach feeling tight
Ran back to that doctor
Looking for a fight.
"There’s a pill for that."

Monkeys in the basement
Zebras on the roof
Rodents rule the hallways
Hoarding all the loot
Short evaluation
Sentenced to a room
No need for attendants
To monitor your tomb:
There’s a pill for that.

I never know when my Muse will do this, nor what she will have in mind, but if I don't comply I'll wake up later that morning with a profound sense that she would have given me an epic piece of poetry to write and that I'd, regretably, had missed it entirely. So, I do rise and jot at least the idea down. In this case, I worked on the poem for a few hours.

It's not all in the hands of my Muse, this process of writing, but her initial ideas are usually worth the blurry eyes and the struggle to stay awake. In this case, I found her smirkiness somewhat amusing as she nudged me along.

Ah well. Such is the fate of a poet with an independant and willfull Muse.

]]><![CDATA[Announcing: my latest book of poetry!!!]]>Sat, 27 Dec 2025 00:13:22 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/announcing-my-latest-book-of-poetry

It's been a long while since I've posted anything here. Medical situations sideswiped me these past few years, and I've dedicated my writing to updates on my Facebook page, keeping family and friends informed on my progress.

Meanwhile, I have continued to write poetry, resulting in my newest book, Young Girl in Trouble. At the moment it is available in Keindle version on Amazon.com and is soon to be released in both soft cover and hardcover versions as well.

I've missed posting here. For a long while I wasn't able to sit at my computer due to being bedridden, and it's been a long slog back to where I am now. But I am back, and looking forward to continuing with this blog, which I started in February of 2013!

For now, I present you with news of my latest book of rhyming, metered verse:
Young Girl in Trouble.

]]><![CDATA[Announcing, my new book of poetry]]>Sun, 12 Dec 2021 03:19:15 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/announcing-my-new-book-of-poetry

While I’ve been away from this blog, I’ve been busily involved with composing new poems and getting a new volume of my work ready for publication: Poems From Planet Janice. I have not been idle.

“A man is not idle because he is absorbed in thought. There is a visible labor and there is an invisible labor.” So said Victor Hugo, a prolific author who wrote in a phenomenal variety of genres.

This volume, as is true with my other books, is a bit of a family project. My daughter, Emily Thompson, formatted, published, and designed the covers for my Echoes books and When None Command.

She is the author of the 12 volume adventure series, Clockwork Twist, and despite working on her own novels, her paintings and myriad other activities, she designed the cover for Poems From Planet Janice.

My Husband, Stanley, whose painting graces the comer of When None Command, took on the role of re-editing all of my previous books and then he edited and formatted Poems From Planet Janice as well. He also work tirelessly at making a dream of mine a reality.

He republished my larger books, A Compilation Of Echoes, When None Command, and Poems From Planet Janice as hardcover books!!! This last feat has been my dream for many, many years.

All that I did in these endeavors was to compose the poems contained in the books, and what a wonderful culmination of fifty nine years of writing poetry this is: from my old ratty box of poetry to hardcover books!

Even the very title of this book was coined by my longtime friend, Karen McCoy, as described in the introduction, So it is with immense gratitude that I wish to give credit where it is due, to my loved ones.

Thank you one and all. And now, I present to you Poems From Planet Janice. Please click here to access any of my books on Amazon.com. Enjoy!!!

]]><![CDATA[On those we have lost ...]]>Thu, 02 Dec 2021 17:44:44 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/on-those-we-have-lost

What Do You Dream Of?

What do you dream of now, my friend
Beneath this hallowed ground?
Do angels nestle with you there
Within your sodden shroud?

Or has your spirit gone aloft
Already Heaven bound?
I ask, and though I’m listening,
I do not hear a sound.

It isn’t like you to abstain.
Can not one word be found
To lend some ease of misery?
This silence is so loud.

JaniceT

]]><![CDATA[Lingering on the wayside ...]]>Fri, 01 Jan 2021 08:00:00 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/lingering-on-the-wayside

William Allingham, who lived between 1824 and 1889, was a prolific Irish poet. He is famous for his often quoted poem The Faeries in which he wrote, “We daren’t go a-hunting, for fear of little men.”

In his quote, “Pluck not the wayside flower; it is the traveler's dower.” he used the word dower in the sense of a dowry: that part of an estate of a deceased spouse given by law to the surviving spouse.

The Cambridge Dictionary defines wayside thusly: If someone falls by the wayside, they fail to finish an activity, and if something falls by the wayside, people stop doing it, making it, or using it.

I tend to view “the wayside” in a less negative aspect, as it refers to that swath of ground which runs along the side of a road where wildflowers grow undisturbed, along with the occasional bus stop.

In that sense, this blog sometimes falls to the wayside, though it does not do so merely out of abandoned disuse. Rather, it bobs to the inclinations of my muse, much like a wildflower dances in a breeze.

I have learned that it is less than ideal for me to attempt to write when my muse lies obstinately silent; when no amount of prodding elicits any useful response. So it is with my poetry and with this blog.

Whenever it seems that I have run out of steam here, even for months at a time between posts, you can trust that merely waiting beside the road for my muse to arrive with a viable poetic itinerary.

In the meantime, I wish you a very Happy New Year!!!

Image: http://www.picturequotes.com

]]><![CDATA[The "oops" factor ...]]>Sat, 17 Oct 2020 21:50:26 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/the-oops-factor

American novelist, Chris Pavone, who worked as an editor at various publishing houses before writing his first novel, The Expats, said “Although no one loves a typo, it's close to impossible to eradicate every single little mistake in a manuscript.”

There was a time when we, as a family, didn’t just run out and purchase a game for our home computer. No, we used a book that contained line after line of Atari Basic code and tediously typed it in.

One missed symbol in all that code would mean utter failure, and good luck finding that missing comma. It was like today’s leisure games of “find the backward R” in a page full of r’s, but not at all fun.

Typos in one’s own text can be downright invisible to the author, and multiple editors can miss errors in your book. There are a slew of famous authors whose published works are known to contain typos.

I’ve come to realize that the best editors at my disposal are those readers who point the errors out to me. I take this as a great favor, though it may sting bitterly, for a great while, as I repair my text.

… sigh … At least I'm in good company.

Today, 10/17/2020, my second E-book, Echoes ll, More Neo-Victorian Poetry, is FREE for digital download. Click here to get a copy. Enjoy!

]]><![CDATA[Untying some knots ...]]>Sun, 11 Oct 2020 01:16:49 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/untying-some-knots

I’ve been writing a poem about my daughter’s travels abroad, and I am on page six, so far. When I tried to compose it as a narrative story the tears wouldn’t stop. Much of it was still too close to home.

It’s those unfortunate sections that hold me up and shake me, and the hurt was too dear. But as a poem, albeit a long poem, I am finding myself very focused on the rhyme scheme, meter, and flow.

This has granted me the distance that I need to walk through those more troubling memories of pain and near loss that I recall clearly, and to unknot the rest. As usual, my art is a buffer for my heart.

This blog post is, of necessity, a short one owing to my muse’s insistence that I get back to that piece. And so, onward to page seven and beyond …

In the meantime, I wish to let you know that my Amazon.com Free Day cycle, my very first E-book, Echoes, Neo-Victorian Poetry is, once again, FREE for download today, (10/10/2020). Just click here.

]]><![CDATA[That perfect moment ...]]>Fri, 25 Sep 2020 07:00:00 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/that-perfect-moment

“Opportunities are like sunrises. If you wait too long, you miss them.” So said inspirational author, columnist, and poet, William Arthur Ward, who penned many influential inspirational maxims.

There are those scant few moments in the wee hours when an idea, phrase, or needful rhyme will pop up and hover in the ether of my too, too sleepy brain, and I think, “I’ll jot it down in the morning.”

But, when morning comes, “whatever it was” has vanished, leaving not a trace of itself behind, and there is nothing that I can do to jog it back into being. Such missed opportunities can be rather painful.

They leave me with the certainty that I have just lost out on a most brilliant and extraordinary morsel, and this can nag at me for hours and hours. “You should have written it down!” my muse chides.

Some nights, just as I am on the very verge of succumbing to sleep, I will very reluctantly get up, snatch my nearby pen and pad, jot the idea down, and gratefully climb back into bed.

The next morning I might find an illegible scrawl waiting for me on my notepad, or it might even be clear enough to read but leave me wondering, “What in the world was I thinking about last night?”

It seems that my muse loves to set me up with a choice between two tortures, both involving some version of amnesia and a keen sense of loss. But, there is a reason why this matters so much to me.

On those rare evenings and very early mornings when my muse prods me insistently to get up and write, I find the idea and the effort are well worth the trouble, which makes the fruitless nights worse.

Fortunately, I am not regularly afflicted by these ill timed bouts with my muse, but that pad and pen are always at the ready, even when I am not, because I may actually compose something epic, after midnight.

Image (above) provided by my gracious friend, Finnigan Livingstone.

As noted previously, My Echoes E-books are available, in rotation, FREE for download each saturday. This week’s offering is Echoes lll, Even More Neo-Victorian Poetry, and is FREE for download on Saturday, September 26, 2020. Click here to go to the amazon.com link.

]]><![CDATA[Poet in hiding ...]]>Sat, 19 Sep 2020 22:16:04 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/poet-in-hiding

“To reveal art and conceal the artist is art’s aim.” So wrote Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde in his preface to The Picture Of Dorian Grey.

I once had an opportunity to share my poetry anonymously in a college creative writing class. Our instructor, who had allowed me this little experiment during the majority of that semester, was awesome.

He would read us wonderful, published poetry which we would discuss afterward. Now and then one of our own poems would be introduced, read aloud, and the class would discuss it, also.

I was positively brilliant! My poems were appraised with unobstructed honesty and candor. I got to hear what they actually thought of my pieces. Their feedback was the best I’ve ever experienced.

However, after several months of me hiding in plain sight, our instructor approached me to say, “You know, this isn’t exactly fair. How about we let them know who wrote those unidentified poems?”

With some reluctance I agreed. After all, this had been a virtual trove of gold for me, but I did see his point.

During our next class session we discussed the anonymous poems that had been shared, and then our instructor suddenly piped up with, “How about we hear from the poet who wrote those pieces.”

Heads began spinning about scanning the room in utter confusion. There was no one new in the room, and certainly not a published poet. I hesitated ever so briefly before I said,”That was my work.”

The shock which reverberated in that classroom was palpable, and I felt a bit embarrassed, but I was also very grateful for the experience. After all, how often does one get to hide behind ones own art?

By the way … my second E-book, Echoes ll, More Neo-Victorian Poetry, is once again FREE for download … today (9/19/2020)!!! Click here to get it!

]]><![CDATA[Any road will do ...]]>Sat, 05 Sep 2020 07:00:00 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/any-road-will-do

Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, author of Adventures of Alice in Wonderland, and Through The Looking-Glass, famously known as Lewis Carroll, said, “If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there.”

Being serendipitous by nature, I’ve never really tried to figure where I was going. Instead, I’ve always lived a “put one foot in front of the other and repeat” sort of life, which has gotten me this far, so far.

No one in my childhood blue collar neighborhood seemed the least bit interested in poetry, and I never had any expectations that my poems would ever matter to anyone, but that didn’t hinder me. I kept writing.

When I was eleven years old I fell into writing rhyming metered verse, much like someone falling into the deep end of a swimming pool and suddenly realizing that they could swim, even though they’d had no lessons.

During my first fifty years of composing poetry I never once considered publishing my pieces in book form. It was my daughter’s idea to publish them after she had published her own first novel, Clockwork Twist, Waking.

To date, we have five books of my poetry in print, and I am currently working on another volume of my work. I still don’t know where I’m going, but I’m pretty happy with where I am, and I love surprises.

Today, my E-book Echoes lll, Even More Neo-Victorian Poetry is FREE for download on Amazon.com. You can get a copy by clicking here.

Enjoy!

]]><![CDATA[~~~ How To Write Rhyming Poetry ~~~]]>Thu, 27 Aug 2020 21:05:49 GMThttp://www.janice-t.com/blog/-how-to-write-rhyming-poetry

Welcome to the show notes of my presentation on Turning Readers Into Writers with Emma Dhesi. You can view my episode as well as episodes with any of the other authors featured there at: www.facebook.com/groups/turningreadersintowriters If you would like to interact with this live presentation, please grant StreamYard permission to see your name at streamyard.com/facebook.

~Overview~

● Rhyme
● Meter
● Stanzas
● How to construct a poem
● Finding inspiration
● How I learned rhyming meter
● Resources that I use

~Let's begin with a few basic concepts~

Rhyme is the use of words which have similar sounds such as boat goat and moat. They are often placed at the end of each line in a poem in an agreeable way.

Meter is the basic rhythmic structure of the lines in rhyming poetry, which is also called verse. Meter is a poem’s heartbeat or pulse.

Stanzas refer to how the lines of a poem are grouped: blocks units of four or more lines separated by an empty line between each block.

~Examples of Rhyming Schemes~

Perfect Rhyme

Song of the Witches From Macbeth by William Shakespeare
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing, ...

Internal Rhyme

A Rare Day
Sweet comfort breathes into the eaves
Imbuing all who dwell
Within this gentle hostelry
With peaceful ease as well.
A subtle breeze begins to tease
The window’s wispy veil
While white waves breach the sunlit beach
And otters ride their swell.
Enveloping and nurturing
Composed to sooth and quell
This all too precious rarity
Consumes me with its spell.

Imperfect Rhyme

The Hobo Code
A knocking on the door frame.
“Ma’am, you got any chores?”
She sends him, with instructions, to the barn,
Then to her kitchen scurries
To stir the stew once more
Sweet biscuits in the oven keeping warm.
Her husband home and tired.
A day of labor spent.
He notices the table set for three.
Just as the lonely drifter
His head bent in respect
Reports that he is bidden to come eat.
A thankful grace is offered
Then dishes passed around
The husband asks the drifter how he knew
That he would meet no trouble
When coming to their door
The neighbors being contrary and rude.
He points out towards the fence post
Says that he read the sign
Etched there for every vagabond to know.
The couple, clearly baffled
The drifter smiles to say
Some hobo came before and left the code.
It indicated “Friendly,”
That work and food were here.
The other fences warned to steer away.
So, up and down the byways
As drifters tend to roam
They know where aid, or tribulation, lay.

~Examples of meter~

Iambic Pentameter

In the following example there are 10 beats per line which repeat, (ta DUM ta DUM ta DUM ta DUM ta DUM).

How far I’ve flown I neither know nor care.
Much as this open deck my plans are bare.
Of star or compass I have nary need,
But follow as these downy cloud tops lead.

Iambic, (metrical feet), Pentameter, (consisting of five metrical feet) is written in block units, (stanzas) of four or more lines. Example: Sonnets.

Limericks

In this anonymous example the third and fourth lines are shorter than the other lines, and they also share a different meter.

The limerick packs laughs anatomical
Into space that is quite economical.
But the good ones I've seen
So seldom are clean
And the clean ones so seldom are comical.

Limericks are short four line poems which tend to be funny and sometimes bawdy, (lewd).

~Constructing a Poem~

Beginning Steps
There are many ways to construct a rhyming metered poem. So, how do you decide which rhyming scheme, meter, and stanza framework to use?

Seek out published poets who rhyme, rhyming lyrics in music, and immerse yourself:
Poems by: Edna St. Vincent Millay, Robert Frost, Ogden Nash, James A. Tweedie
Songs by: Paul Simon, Tom Petty, Paul McCartney, Billie Eilish, Troye Sivan

Then, begin by rewriting a line of text. Play with it. Write another line and make them both rhyme.

~A Few Basic Rules~

● Consider the atmosphere, temperature, time of day, aromas, (how red is your red?).
● Manage your meter, beat, tempo, and stay within the lines.
● NEVER force a rhyme.
● Poetry's muse is a two-way conversation.
● Editing is weeding.
● The naming game; titling your poem.
●Knowing when it's finished; listen to your poem. When in doubt, ask someone who is acquainted with your work, “Does it feel finished to you?”

~Focus on an image for inspiration~

Consider this dry, barren desert landscape. It looks as if no one has been here. But ... Breezes have been here, ascribing wave-like patterns in the sand. Sunlight is here, kissing the dunes with golden heat. Moonbeams were here, bathing all in their bluish hues. Caravans have traversed this sand. Scorpions and other critters live beneath it.

This is an example of Anthropomorphism, in which the writer attributs human traits, emotions, or intentions to non-human entities. Even in an abandoned landscape there is potential for poetry.

Stories, fables, and all manner of lore which you have read or heard about can become poems. What impression did the story leave you with? Don’t worry whether it is true to that initial story.

Write a line of text on what you remember about it or how it makes you feel. Write another line of text using the exact same meter. End both lines with words that rhyme.

How I learned to write rhyming metered poetry in a bubble

When I began writing poetry, I knew no one else who did so. My sixth grade teacher gave us an assignment: “Look at the piles of dirt I’ve placed on your desks and write what you see.” My response was to write a rhyming metered poem depicting the dirt, as mother and the tiny weeds in the dirt as child. He read my poem and yelled “I have a poet in my class!” Okay, what is a poet?
Fortunately, my dad collected scads of books. They reached from the floor to the ceiling in what was referred to as “the back room.” Amongst those books I found several volumes of classical poetry. So, I began to study the works of William Blake, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Lord Byron and many other classical poets and I began to emulate them.

Emulate: To strive to equal or excel, especially through imitation. Wordnik.
I didn’t encounter the works of my contemporaries, the modern poets, such as Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Allen Ginsberg, or Ezra Pound during this time, and not until much, much later. By then, I had developed what I call Neo-Victorian poetry ... my contemporized version of Victorian-esque verse ... from within my exclusive little bubble.

~Resources that I use~

● The Society Of Classical Poets https://classicalpoets.org/
● The Oxford Book of American Verse, by F.O. Matthiessen
● The Oxford Book of English Verse, by Arthur Quiller-Couch
● Literary Devices: https://literarydevices.net/
● Song lyrics: https://www.lyrics.com/
● RhymeZone: https://www.rhymezone.com/
● Dictionary: https://www.dictionary.com/
● Thesaurus: https://www.thesaurus.com/

My blog: Neo-Victorian Poetry https://www.janice-t.com/

My Amazon.com author page:
https://www.amazon.com/JaniceT/e/B00CEHQHFO ?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_3&qid=1597812399&sr=8- 3

My pen name is JaniceT (no space)

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