babeonownbike

I have posted a couple of what I considered short stories, and have received comments that they were more like "poetic prose". I have included one below. Never having considered myself a poet, and admittedly completely ignorant about how to write it or any of the rules, I'm not sure what to do with my pieces? Do I need to re-organize this into stanzas? Does it have to rhyme? I'm bewildered!
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The Sun Scowled Today

The sun glared angry this morning, peering crossly from behind a veil of thin dark clouds. It scowled down on the world, as if to issue a stern warning.

"Without me it could be very bad for you."

The clouds could not be faulted for this mood. Though grey, they lacked the strength of true storm clouds. Mere scabs in need of work, they were poor substitutes for the real thing.

Later, when the amateurs had withdrawn, real clouds appeared on the far horizon, cleverly disguised as puffy friendly marshmallows. Disdainful of the sun's posturing, they kept their distance. The sun was laid bare, nakedly exposed for her weakness; an insecure Broadway star, unwilling to acknowledge the importance of her co-stars.

Earth turned a cold shoulder, unable to deny the sunshine but remaining slightly chilled.

When the clouds made their move, it was bold and authoritative. They roared in, transformed into a cool, black and mighty tempest. The air was made electric by lightning, thunder exploded. Waves of rain pelted the ground, leaving puddles on the earth, unable as it was to absorb so much, so fast.

Having demonstrated their might, they rapdily withdrew and the sun was permitted to shine once more. Earth glistened in bright hues of green. The message was clear. The relationship of clouds and sun is symbiotic; no one is mightier than the other.

Earth welcomed the sun's rays, casting aside the bitterness of the earlier sulking. The sun, duly admonished, departed in a brilliant display of color, light refracting off beads of moisture from the clouds. Night descended.

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babeonownbike

they must be in stanzas!
they should be around the same amount of syllables long in each line!
it doesnt have to rhyme!
it can include enjambment!
it usually has a deeper meaning to it! (there's a word for this, I ust don't know what!)

and 'poetic prose' to me is an oxymoron in itself. Prose is any written text but poetry, so what is poetry prose? I need information on such matters!

Here is the definition I found for Prose Poetry (from Wikipedia); "Prose poetry is usually considered a form of poetry written in prose that breaks some of the normal rules associated with prose discourse, for heightened imagery or emotional effect, among other purposes." It did, however, go on to say there is disagreement about what Prose Poetry is if, indeed, it exists, and whether it's poetry, prose or a completely separate genre.

Well, babeonownbike, what you've written is prose ...
and much of the phrasing could be considered poetic ...

so yes, poetic prose is an apt description ...

Whether the poetry purists would welcome or condemn you,
I don't know - though I imagine you'll find out ...

I'm not sure where HippoHead sourced his collection of rules -
perhaps it was sarcasm? -
but the accumulated published exceptions would have rendered
any of them useless ...

a couple of things I spotted on a quick readthrough:

lightening - I think you meant lightning rather than becoming lighter ...

none is mightier than the other - I think you meant neither ... but that whole phrase lets down the piece; wouldn't hurt to lose it altogether ...

Prose Poetry: a style of poetry that uses prosaic phrasing and structure.

Poetic Prose: Flowery prose heavy with description.

At least that's how I see it.

I don't know, Pete ... that sounds more like purple prose to me ...

I think prose can be poetic without being flowery or overly descriptive -
which are things we tend to criticise in poetry offerings, too -
but prose which utilises poetic techniques (other than format);
eg, word, and word placement, choices; rhyme, rhythm or flow ...

Cran

>> Not sure how or why all of the replies got merged into one - let's see if we can sort who said what:



>>I'm afraid that I have some responsibility in what happened here -
I had asked a mod whether the nature of the OP and subsequent discussion
might justify a thread move to Poetic Discussions ...

I apologise to the OP and participants for the confusion caused ... <<

__________________
"I don't know ... I'm making it up as I go ..." - Dr I Jones

Nature abhors perfection - cats abhor a vacuum!

estyzesty

I'm a bit confused by these posts and the weird quoting going on.. but in case you're still wondering.
Here's an example of a "prose poem".
The Colonel by Carolyn Forché

I do feel like what you've written sounds more to me like it could be a poem than prose.. maybe because of all the personification going on.

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"And there is really so little room! So little time! The poet becomes an expert packer of suitcases" - Sylvia Plath

Cran

[off-topic]
hi estyzesty, and welcome to WF ...

The original thread was moved here from another (less appropriate) area,
but arrived as just the OP and 1 reply instead of the 5 replies it was supposed to have;
the only way to sort out who wrote what was to break up that 1 reply into quotes - it was a one-off glitch ...
[/off-topic]

__________________
"I don't know ... I'm making it up as I go ..." - Dr I Jones

Nature abhors perfection - cats abhor a vacuum!