Poetry Course: Subtle Flat Contrast

My favorite type of poem

One of my favorite types of poems is the zen, subtle contrast poem. You can get away with writing empty, flat, and silent poems because you aren't obligated to hold the reader's attention span like in fiction.

Our inner world often isn't an explosion of gerunds, hard-charging sentences, and meta-narratives. It's simple. One of the best things you can do in poetry is remove all ambition. Robert Bly explains below.

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The body is like a November birch facing the full moon

And reaching into the cold heavens.

In these trees, there is no ambition, no sodden body, no leaves,

Nothing but bare trunks climbing like cold fire!

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I want you to publish a poem below, which uses subtle contrasts to create a flat and silent mood. Keep it brief and introspective. There shouldn't be a resolution. Beauty and isolation should find their way into the poem.

Below are some examples:

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Tomas Tranströmer "April & Silence"

Spring lies abandoned
A ditch the color of dark violet
moves alongside me
giving no images back.

The only thing that shines
are some yellow flowers.

I am carried inside
my own shadow like a violin
in its black case.

The only thing I want to say
hovers just out of reach
like the family silver
at the pawnbroker's.

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Snowfall in the Afternoon by Robert Bly

1

The grass is half-covered with snow. It was the sort of snowfall that starts in late afternoon And now the little houses of the grass are growing dark.

2

If I reached my hands down near the earth I could take handfuls of darkness! A darkness was always there which we never noticed.

3

As the snow grows heavier the cornstalks fade farther away And the barn moves nearer to the house. The barn moves all alone in the growing storm.

4

The barn is full of corn and moves toward us now Like a hulk blown toward us in a storm at sea; All the sailors on deck have been blind for many years.

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A Blessing by James Wright

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,

Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.

And the eyes of those two Indian ponies

Darken with kindness.

They have come gladly out of the willows

To welcome my friend and me.

We step over the barbed wire into the pasture

Where they have been grazing all day, alone.

They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness

That we have come.

They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.

There is no loneliness like theirs.

At home once more,

They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.

I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,

For she has walked over to me

And nuzzled my left hand.

She is black and white,

Her mane falls wild on her forehead,

And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear

That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.

Suddenly I realize

That if I stepped out of my body I would break

Into blossom.