I read all the blog posts on WOL and like most members comment on those that merit (in my opinion) a pat on the back, those that strike a chord or those that particularly seem to be very well thought out and include words that I wish I'd written myself.

I am often left wondering how much work goes into the poems that appear here on WOL. How many man/woman hours are used to think up, craft, edit and then hone a piece of work before letting it fly onto the world wide web.

I am sure the replies to this (should there be any) will be very illuminating.

i have never spent more than an hour on a poem. usually between 5 and 15 minutes. some of the shorter ones can take a minute.

i dont have the attention span to spend longer than that.

great topic by the way. should be some good reading here i think.

For me, it can be anything between half an hour and seven (count 'em) months (that's the record so far, and by god it was worth it). Some fall out onto the page, almost completely fully formed, but they are few and far between. Most take on average at least two days of initial creation, and then another few days of tinkering and tweaking. Depends on the size of the poem obviously, but my two 'epics' took between 3 and 5 weeks each.

Every single poem can benefit from editing, in my opinion, no matter how good it seems at first. Honing and learning to listen to that inner critic is one of the skills we must work at.

When I was younger the poems came easily and I was a bit uppity about using a thesaurus. Since then I`ve learned sense and realised that the words are already there, it`s the potential meanings of them that are important...It`s the way you tell `em (as Carson used to say).

Editing is important. But `in the heat` it slows you down,
carry on and do it afterwards.

What you can`t finish, keep it hanging around until a bit of inspiration `happens`.

Also (when sounding off) we should always be aware of
making ourselves sound like supercilious smart arses.

Also (and I know this is hard) when we comment we should not only say that we like something in the poem, but also why we like it...in our own everyday words. It is
very helpful - especially to ourselves - so sort out the why of what we admire.

Finally: If they come fast, stick to your own way, but now
and then try it a bit different.

I can rattle out a bit of prose in a few minutes, which is generally then about 90% final.
Most of my poems though are structures which require melding accentual stress with a rhyming pattern, at the same time keeping to as straight a line of narrative as I can. They take longer.

i have always felt that editing of any sort would dilute the message i am trying to get across. i.e that it would put up a barrier (both of space and time) between whats in my mind and what goes on the paper. more and more nowadays i can see that this is a) quite egotistical and b) a bit wrong. i tend now to type something straight down then go back and change certain words and phrases. i do use a thesaurus now and then, but more and more im finding myself highlighting passages/words in books.

best example i can give of this is the poem i wrote yesterday. i wrote that in 30 seconds then spent 5 minutes shuffling it around.

i dont think i could ever do what you do john, it seems so rigid and troublesome. having said that, im often in awe of the results (YGGDRASIL)

i think ultimately i agree with harry. whatever works, works. i find the more i tinker, the crapper it gets (think pre-leicester ranieri)

I think you'd be interested in the work of a poet who no longer posts here, Stu. Her name is Marianne Daniels, and she wrote exclusively stream of consciousness poetry, that a lot of members simply didn't 'get'. But a lot of the imagery in her stuff was outstanding. She never edited, but that was her preferred way of working. She was also in the Neutral Milk Hotel club, which always speaks volumes to me :)

I do tend to throw everything down on the page at first, which generally means about 7 pages of utter tripe with sparkly stuff in between. Then I edit. You can't write AND edit at the same time, in my opinion, it holds it all back, as Harry points out.

Laura, what happened to Marianne. I really loved her work and regularly told her I didn't get some of it, but was impressed all the same.

Graham - she's still around, we're friends on FB. Still writing and getting published a lot more now :)

An interesting thread...

I've written poems which arrive almost completely fully formed, others which I've had to work at over weeks (or even months) and everything in between. It might seem that the fully formed ones are the easiest – they're certainly a joy when they turn up – but I've generally been mulling over the idea behind the poem for a while, even if I haven't yet found a way into it. So the work being done by the wonder that is our sub-conscious (or unconscious) mind needs to be figured in. Sometimes I write a draft, think it's marvellous, then come back to it 24 hours later and find it horribly leaden and clunky. And sometimes it feels like I've had to hew the words out of solid rock, sometimes to good effect, other times less so...

I suspect the process of creativity is unique to each individual, and each poem. The creativity's the thing.

One problem I have found with writing poetry is the "knowing when it's finished syndrome".
There has to come a time when a piece makes its entrance to the world, warts and all, and cannot be changed after.
I am notoriously reticent to change a piece once "finished" even though some of the constructive feedback I receive sometimes makes good sense.
However, we have to let go sometimes, ready or not. Too much tinkering can often polish a piece to death.

And all this takes time.

"A poem is never finished, it's only abandoned." Verlaine, I think.

Initial inspiration is as long as it takes to write down. But then it could be a week, a month or several years before it is in a state as close as possible to being finished.

I don't tend to know what I'm writing about until I am well into the writing process, and even then sometimes...

...though that's not quite true. I usually have a vague idea, but re-writing is as much a discovery as the original inspiration. And sometimes I shake things up by chance procedures - cut'n'paste, collage of other texts - to keep me on the ball.

"A poem is never finished, it's only abandoned."

I'm not sure I would agree as I rarely change anything (apart from an embarrassing missed typo).

This I think is the nub of the issue and my real point. If one is prepared to let things fly with the obvious intention of being swayed by critique, then to me that is lazy writing.

Critique to me is food for thought (and for the next piece of work only).

Otherwise poetry is a game of consequences where everyone get a say.

Really, a poem is only finished when it's read. A reader will bring their own experience to the poem and that will make the poem 'new' every time it's read. Or heard.

You can only control a poem's meaning until it reaches an audience. Then it no longer belongs to you. It has flown the nest and now must make its way in the world without you.

And one doesn't let things fly; one reaches a point where you can't see the poem anymore, through over-familiarity. Then someone else reads it and sees something you've missed. It's not lazy writing; and advice from others can help. Unless you're so arrogant as to think you always get it right...

I never said I got anything right Steven and wouldn't claim the quality of arrogance for a minute. I'd leave that to those poetry scholars who dissect everything in minute detail and then give copious examples of their knowledge to support their views. I'm not in that league or ever likely to be.

What I really allude to is the fact that many of the poets that are very prolific (daily offerings, sometimes several a day) on WOL seem to happily invite critique for the sole purpose of making direct changes to their work instead of for use in crafting future work more carefully before they publish.

On the issue of controlling a poem's meaning, of course the writer does. What other readers garner from their interpretation of it is up to them but doesn't alter the writer's meaning. How could it?

On the further issue of ownership, of course it still belongs to the writer. A poem is like one's child, you do not have a choice of disowning it.

*looks around, blinking: it's so long since I last logged in I'm surprised my password still works!*

I've never thought of myself as a Poet 'per se'
One of my tutors at Uni defined Poetry as "telling a tale using the least possible number of words".
I know I'm an incorrigible Windbag, and therefore feel more comfortable writing a Novel - the very thought of "flash fiction" is enough to make me break out in a cold sweat: I take off several hats in admiration for those who have the discipline to write Haiku verse!
When I have tried to express myself in Verse, I've found myself writing Lyrics, invariably with a melody line playing in my head as I write.
So how long does a Poem of this nature take me to write? How long is a piece of string? I've managed a Sonnet in half an hour (amazingly, it went on to become the first piece of work I got PAID for - £10 for winning a competition in my local newspaper!). I've also spent about a month (in total) working on a 'mediaeval bard'-style song-story.
As Steve Waling wrote (see above), a poem really only "comes to life" when you HEAR it read aloud (and preferably by someone else while you listen).
I'll shut up now and let someone else have the floor - I warned you of my reputation as a Windbag!!

What makes you arrogant, Graham, is your assumption that your way of doing things is the only proper way to do it.

That some people find workshops and fora like this helpful doesn't make them somehow lesser writers, or lazy. I find workshops useful in spotting things that I wouldn't have noticed myself, because I'm either too close to the poem or am just not seeing what is wrong. I have a few friends I show things to, who know my work (and I know theirs) and we help each other. The idea of the romantic individual battling with language in his lonely garret has never much appealed to me.

Also, I do hope you do let your children go and lead their own lives once they've left home. That doesn't stop you worrying about them of course; but you can't control them either. The same is true of poems; sure somebody's going to misunderstand them, or at least understand them in a different way to you (they bring their own lives to the poem), and that for me is actually sometimes rather interesting. They see things I didn't see.

I think Graham means it doesn't alter the writer's meaning in the writer's head. Obviously the meaning changes according to whatever 'baggage' the listener/reader brings to it.

Steven of course workshops and fora are important for learning etc as is having a coterie of chums to give honest and constructive feedback.

My point really is (once it's done it's done) and whatever others think or read into it is up to them.

Me not being willing to change something isn't arrogance or the impression that I know best. It is what it is!

I just think knocking off 30 poems a month is lazy writing, undertaken without due care and attention (garret or not).

I`ve held off this one for a while now, but I think it is time that some obviously ordinary things must be said.

No matter how quickly - or slowly - the original poem took to compose, surely it must make sense to give it a good go through (if only to make sure it is saying what you want it to say) and then to consider what other people say about it (and make you own judgement about that also)

The key to both is the word `why`...why am I doing it like that...and why are other people commenting on it like that?

I am aware that some folk think that poetry is some sort of semi-magical thing that somehow just `happens` to them...but even if it is, we should be able to say where
(and why) those words occur, and why they are magical.

The poetry is in the words, and if those words are noble,
beautiful, moving, sad, telling, satirical, political, loving,
religious, atheistic, ancient, modern, rough or polished, we should be able to say why.

I know that we should be polite and considerate, but we should also beware of becoming just mutual back-scratchers.

Looking at the excellent Code of Conduct WOL has produced, I would just like to mention here that there is a distinct difference between saying that a statement is arrogant, and that a person is arrogant. The latter does personalise the debate and as people who care about words and distinctions I think it is good to try not to personalise a debate even when we are being asked for our personal practice in writing.

I have always found that some poems take at least an afternoons work, starting with a rough draft of ideas and specific words, and gathering images around them, considering the connotations of words and seeing where it leads me. At other times, with a fairly simple structure I write quickly and leave it a day or so, then re read to see if it is still interesting, varied, structured in a satisfying way, and saying soemthing worth saying. I don't consider it a poem until it satisfies me.

I write a poem, leave it for hours, or more often, days. Then I print it out. It is only then that I really 'see and hear' what I have created, the 'product' that the reader deals with, apart from my own blinkered eyes. If I'm going to publish it, I must feel strongly that my poem is a message worth sharing. Otherwise, why make it public?

Then I practise real discipline in poetry craftsmanship.
I edit ruthlessly, deleting and deleting.... and deleting! This process usually throws up one better word for six others (thesaurus always at hand), and polishes the imagery and internal 'music' essential for lines to qualify as poetry. There is no short cut for a sensitivity to words, and techniques, the tools that express our images and thus our ideas. Moreover, I always think that the words finally used must be 'recite-able' without undue tongue-tripping, even in your mind.

I have often thought that an original effort is good, and it is, but two days later I can see immediately where it could be better, and it is. A week later ... and it is. I do not fiddle forever. Once published, I have to be satisfied and stop tinkering.

The poet can never be sure how a reader will interpret his/her poem, no matter how simple the poet thinks a poem is. Metaphoric interpretation can take over in any guise.

Sorry about the length of this. It's a challenging topic.
Bottom line: I use hard graft in writing - the old 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration.

Freda! We were thinking and writing simultaneously. How cool is that!

I don't believe the poet is or should be the interpreter of his/her own work because:

Being essentially the instrument for his work he (the artist) is subordinate to it and we have no reason for expecting him to interpret it for us. He has done the best that is in him by giving it form and he must leave interpretation to others and to the future. (Karl Jung)

Interesting, this seems to have taken a change towards the reasoning of appreciation.
Surely, one is only interested in the level of appreciation in a piece of work if one purports to be either a professional performer or if one has a pseudo-professional status to upkeep.

Personally, I couldn't give a fig whether others like my work. Therefore I am the most interested party in its quality, message, etc!

Why would anyone be concerned about the level of appreciation of others unless they were either patrons or the paying public?

As far as I'm concerned I need to be satisfied on at least a reasonably basic level before I send work out into the public domain. What happens then is incidental, unless one has an ego that needs massaging.

If you don't give a fig about whether people like your work Graham, why post it at all?

That's an interesting point Laura.

I guess I think that once poetry is created it deserves/needs to be thrown to the wolves so to speak, but I don't need to observe the reader's appreciation (quite often there is none anyway) to feel good about having written it.

It feels good though doesn't it, when people like it? And generally, when people respond, it's to say what they like about it.

You can sit back and enjoy the poem you wrote, and enjoy the process of creating it, AND the responses. We all like to pretend that we don't need or want validation of our work - but if we are truly honest, then we do. There's nothing wrong with that, it's not dirty or shameful. It's normal.

this is right interesting. leaving aside the depressing attempt at belittling someone (sigh) its gone all over the place. great stuff. i agree with laura here, in the early days of being on here i absolutely thrived on the comments i got. without them and positive pressure from others i wouldnt have kept writing, wouldnt have got a manuscript together and wouldnt have a book coming out. its because of posting on here that all that has happened. it must be different for different people. perhaps it depends on ones self confidence or belief in ones work. if you are a confident writer who knows the work is good and wants others to enjoy it (perhaps this is you graham) then you care less about the comments/likes.

Same experience here Stu. When I first joined, I had never been published, and never performed anywhere. Wrote my first piece, it got loads of really positive and lovely comments, and I was astonished and ecstatic tbh. I wouldn't have written anywhere near the amount I have done without that sort of support.

I usually write mine in less than 15 minutes. Then I spend about an hour trying to perfect it.. adding extra words or taking out other words! Grrrr!

I'm reminded of the story of Frank O'Hara's reading with Robert Lowell. O'Hara read a poem he claimed to have just written on the train to the reading (it was 'Poem (Lana Turner Has Collapsed)' by the way).

Lowell - who worried and worried at his poems - was much put out by this 'upstart' reading a poem he'd only just written and not agonisingly ripped from the pit of his very soul, like wot Lowell did...

Of course, Lowell was apt to write about himself in dramatic terms ('Myself am hell...' f'r instance) whereas the New York School of which O'Hara was its chief star took themselves rather less seriously... (James Schuyler - like Lowell, a sufferer from mental illness - was more apt to call himself 'Jim the Jerk' when writing from his hospital ward.)

Sometimes poems come easily, sometimes they have to worked on. Either way they come...