Slender stems
green-feathered,
Shimmying, shimmering
in morning light,
Earth-bound sprites
tall, at ease
Awaiting the breeze,
waiting to dance.
The previous poem, "Dancers",
demands a photo, which was the
idea. However, a kind reader
pointed out that it can't stand
on its own. It would fall flat
if read to an audience without
visual aids.
The current poem is an exercise
in disconnecting the two. The
title and first few lines
imperfectly recreate the picture.
As a result, this version can
be read over the radio!
Horseweed (Erigeron canadensis)
is native to western North
America, and has since spread
worldwide. Indigenous peoples
have touted its curative powers
for several ailments. Farmers
hate it because it's invasive.
Horseweed neither loves nor
hates anything--it just wants
to dance.
Related
Now I think I might be wrong in wanting a title without the accompanying photo. The first version even without the photo is perfect and stands on its own. But this brings us the interesting question of when are poem titles dispensed with, and further, are titles necessary. Emily Dickinson didn’t gives her titles. They are known by their first lines. Same with Walt Whitman in Leaves of Grass AI tells me. And Shakespeare’s sonnets are numbered. Many poets use the first lines for titles. Plus, look at haiku. Today I read Lisel Mueller’s “Hope,” and it’s perfect with that title.
When do you want a title, and when do you just jump in to writing the poem? When you give a poem a title, do you do it afterward sometimes, and sometimes have the title right away? Do you think, “Oh, I have to call it something, so what’ll it be?” It’s fun looking at tables of contents to read just the titles. I got drawn to poetry by seeing a long, boring title stretched across the top of a page and accompanied by a skinny poem hanging down the left margin. Visually, that long, boring title grabbed my attention: “Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota.”
Great topic you brought up, Eric!