Poetry Rules

I have been writing a few confessional poems lately. It has not been easy. I guess the reasons are at least a couple. The first one is that I find it difficult to talk about myself. But, I also feel that I have reached an age where I can more easily deal with sides of my past that have left a scar. The second reason is that most of the times I end up writing confessional poems as prose poems . I think I am still mastering the art and do not feel always very comfortable with it. This must also be the reason why I choose it. The topics are uncomfortable, and so must be my writing. If most of the times I write a poem on the spur of the moment, with little if no editing at all, writing a prose poem becomes a real task. I write many drafts. I cut out so much of what I wrote initially and yet these poems end up being much, much longer than my non-prose poems.  I have just finshed writing a poem called Unter den Linden , as the name of the Avenue leading to the Brandenburg Gate...

I must say that as much as I have always admired prose poetry, I have never tried writing any because it seemed to me that I had no real skills at it. But, last weekend I suddenly recalled episodes from my childhood in the 70s, specifically memories of the  Years of Lead in Italy and of my father, and I ended up writing one. I sent it to my poetical sister, Michelle Reale , whose prose poetry is magical, so much so that I often return to read her collections because I can't have enough of them and I love wandering in her soulscapes for a long, long time. I wanted Michelle to honestly tell me what she thought of it. Her reply made me incredibly happy. She wrote: Sorella, this is outstanding, and let me tell you why: it is highly evocative, and imagistic. It feels incredibly satisfying in this form, and, I dare say, you are quite adept at this form, which is truly my favorite! For me, an as exemplified by Seventies Blues, you encompass a whole world here. This poem made me want ...

I have spent the morning re-reading Rimbaud's Illuminations and I have eventually decided that I need to master prose poetry. I have always been very reluctant to do so, but Arthur and Baudelaire have inspired me to dare write some prose poems today. It took me two hours to complete the first two. I have just sent "He Smothered Them In Rose Petals" and "Caravaggio In The Wilderness" to a magazine that publishes prose poetry. Wish me luck!