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For years I didn't understand the point of poetry. It seemed like a long way to go to say something simple.

Then I read Allen Ginsberg's Howl and Other Poems. That showed me what poetry was for, what it could do that prose cannot. It condenses pure emotion and honest impressions of literally anything into fewer words than a regular story could handle. Even a long poem crams a good deal more per line into itself than prose can.

This is not a put down of prose! I still love prose; it's my primary medium of expression. But I *understand* what poetry is for now. I've done a bit more reading since then, more poems and writing about poems. There will never be an end to what I'm learning about it, but here is some info that I already have.

Again, poetry is honest. It can be harsh for that reason, or more depressing than you might like, or more maudlin. But it's supposed to be. It seems to be hard to overdo it when writing poetry. You're supposed to be a little over the top with your emotions and/or impressions. Not much room for subtlety there.

So basically you start with a memory, a scene, the view out the nearest window, etc. Literally anything. Then you write honestly about it, and usually while not using many words.

An off-the-top-of-my-head subject: macaroni and cheese. Simple and potentially dull. But it wouldn't have come to mind if there weren't something to it. So....

Unlike most Americans, I didn't eat mac and cheese as a kid, so I have no childhood memories of it. Didn't discover it until I was a teenager. Now as an adult I get my fix at Noodles & Company.

That's something important right there. So, improv:

Mom thought
she did me a favor
by never serving me
macaroni and cheese.

Maybe she did
do me a favor.
"It's too cheap," she said
and that wasn't true
but it's also not priceless to me-
everyone tastes memories in their cheesy mac
but I taste nothing but the cheese.

Swirling and folding
shredded cheddar
into steaming, slippery pasta
is every time a new experience.

No complications
of summertime afternoons
microwaveable dinners
quick gooey breakfasts
of twenty years ago.
The bowl I'm sighing over today
is the only one that matters.

It's good for some things
to remind you of nothing.
I remember plenty enough
through spaghetti.

That's twenty-two lines- I could maybe trim it a bit but that probably isn't necessary. Besides, that's just a first draft I put out there. Nothing wrong with returning to a poem after a while and rewriting.

As for pacing, I write ONLY free verse so I probably apply a lot of what I know from prose writing. But sometimes the poem is so short there is no pacing to speak of- it's almost a plain statement. Then there are the uber-artistic pieces that make no sense and therefore need no structure (I try not to write those, but I've certainly read a few). In the end, it seems to be up to the poet, largely.

At any rate, I don't claim to be an expert in this stuff, but that's how I write a poem, anyway. It seems to be about expressing your particular take on something. Just think about how you personally feel about whatever it is you're writing about. Juggle feelings and opinions. I suppose that's why poetry is so good at dealing with politics, spirituality, and other matters that are usually difficult to express.