Coffee Stains
January 9th 2009 20:01
The coffee-maker grumbles its birth-pains
pushing out volumes of Brazilian gold
while morning staggers onto the stage
spilling his wine across the audience.
This ebony elixir excises sleep
sending life to the limbs, sight to the eyes
while they faithful 'maker retches its remnants
The drinker leaves his gift on the table,
fetching the morning paper for a few
moments of idleness. An unknowing
tap against the table sends the brew
crashing to the floor. The life-blood bleeds
across the tiles like blind serpents.
Neglecting the spill, the master stumbles
to the 'maker to take more liquid gifts--
he finds his loyal life-giver broken,
dead from abuse and neglect of repair.
Staring at the stain, morning's baptismal
blunder fails to wake the weary soul.
I wrote this poem upon reflection of similar events that have happened to me. Not exactly the same way as in the poem, but the idea is the same. It was easy to write about this because it's a common, everyday occurrence. I was pretty proud of this poem because, in my opinion, it is somewhat light-spirited on the surface, but if the metaphors and imagery are explored further, the poem can take on many deeper not-so-light-hearted meanings.
I also liked this poem because I thought the metaphors and imagery were pretty fresh and original. At least, I'd never heard of a coffee-maker personified as giving birth, or of morning as a staggering drunk. Also, a lot of the linguistic punch of the poem comes from its alliteration.
Alliteration is the repetition of similar sounds in quick succession. For example, the first line of the second stanza is made up mostly of alliteration of the "e" and "s" sounds. Alliteration combined with a nice flow makes the poem more pleasing to the ear, and better-flowing, in my opinion. Also, alliteration is not the same as rhyme, because for words to rhyme, the entire word, or at least the ending syllable, have to sound the same, like morning and mourning, or fact and tact. Also, for the sounds to be considered alliteration, they must be close together: not necessarily right next to each other, but at least one or two words apart. You can't have the word 'enemy' in the beginning of the poem and 'embers' in the end of the poem and call that alliteration.
In fact, some literary scholars in their complex analyses will even look at a poem's alliteration and say that certain sounds are evocative of certain emotions or even animals, therefore making the poem mean such and such. I don't go that far in my personal poetics...a little too far-fetched for me. But, to each his own I suppose.
However, like any poetic device, alliteraton should be used in moderation. Like too much hot sauce in chicken wing sauce, too much alliteration calls attention to itself and detracts from the heart of the poem. When you have too much hot sauce, all you taste and think of is the hot sauce, and the savory flavor of that luscious charred animal flesh is lost. I think that alliteration can ruin a poem in the same way that bad rhyming can ruin it, too. It makes it seem contrived and "Hallmark-ish". (Although Hallmarkish poetry is bad in a lot of other ways than just linguistically).
Personally, much of my alliteration just comes naturally...once in a while in the middle of writing a poem, I'll change a word to a synonym of itself that sounds nicer with the surrounding words. For example I could have written "life-blood seeps" instead of "life-blood bleeds," but the first one just doesn't sound as good as the second version, in my opinion. Also "bleeds" fits in better with the feeling and meaning of the surrounding words and ideas.
So if you just sprinkle your poetry with linguistic devices like alliteration and rhyme, and see to it that it's subtle and fits in with the meaning, it's like having a cake with the perfect dose of frosting. Too much frosting makes the cake unappetizing. Of course, a lot of famous poetry has been the bare-bones type, like the base cake without any frosting. Emily Dickinson comes to mind, but I know there are others. Some poets and readers like that kind of thing, but I like my poetry--mine and others--to have nice sounding devices complement the core meaning of the poem.
Keep your poetic eye out. Looking at everything with the poetic eye can actually make a bad day better. Instead of muttering angrily and wishing things had turned out differently when you lose your car keys or set the dinner on fire, keep a sharp mind out to look for the poetic positives. Who knows, you might just draw some light out of what seems like darkness.
See you on Sunday.
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