Inventing A New Poetry Form: ImproVerse Poetry

Modern technology allows (and sometimes forces) new styles of creativity in the written word. Previously, readers of this blog have been introduced to IMprov poetry (where the writing happens spontaneously during an Instant Messaging, or IM, chat session), and ConTEXTing poetry, where the writing occures within the 160 character limits of a phone text message.

Recent advances in cell phone voice recognition technology have lead to the discovery of a new poetry form:
ImproVerse Poetry.

Simply put, ImproVerse poetry is when the poet creates either an instant message or an email and, using the dictation function on the cell phone, speaks (improvs) a poem into the phone and sends it without editing. The rules for this form follow both the rules for IMprov poetry, in that the integrity of the rough idea of the verse needs to remain intact (thus the “Improv” part), and ConTEXTing poetry, in that the number of characters should not exceed the 160 character limits of a text message. (Although modern advances in cell phone technology do allow for more characters, the messages will still split. In order to maintain the look/feel of one piece, the writer should self-enforce those limits).

However, if the writer decides to create a longer piece, (a sonnet, or even free verse, for example) that exceeds those cell phone character limits, ImproVerse does allow for that choice. The main guiding factor behind the ImproVerse style is the ability to create and compose in an improvisational style, with minimum rework in the published piece.

It is important to note that ImproVerse DOES allow for some editing to take place. This can be for one of two reasons:
1) The editing helps the ImproVerse fit into some other form or style. For example, I may have thought I ImproVersed a haiku (5 syllables/7 syllables/5 syllables), only to discover that my last line had 6 syllables. The rules of ImproVerse allow me to correct that error.
2) More importantly, editing may happen because of technology errors. The dictation function on most cell phones (especially, Android users are quick to point out, on iPhones!) does not always capture the meaning. IF the writer can figure out what they meant in the first place, they are allowed to make those corrections to reflect the original meaning.

To show both forms of editing, for example, an ImproVerse I sent that says:
When you have a red top you could wave at the V formation of keys and hope they don’t Bottomview was edited both by shortening it AND by correcting the dictation errors, to read:

Having a ragtop/
lets you wave at the geese V,/
hoping they don’t bomb.

(I did some additional editing and created an even better haiku; you can see both here at http://cyranowriter.wordpress.com/2012/09/02/waving-at-a-flying-v-revolutionary-improverse-haiku/.

Hopefully, using technology to think creatively and capture creative thoughts will encourage more people to observe, think, capture and share their thoughts in a meaningful, creative and thought-provoking way to benefit us all.

A Gift Of Smiles: Revolutionary IMprov Limerick

No matter how sucky your day is/
there’s always the potential for this:/
that I will pop by and do/
some weird thing to shake your blues/
or at least give you laughter’s sweet bliss.

[Happy Birthday to the big E/
with her own limerick poetry!]

Eating Bruised Peaches; Putting Up Peaches For Me; Waste Not Bruised Peaches: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku(s)

Thoughts gleaned while putting up ripe (and sometimes bruised) Brigham City Utah peachesI had several insights while cleaning, slicing and freezing/putting up two boxes of Brigham City peaches.

Grandma Liked Bruised Fruit — 19:50 p.m.
Grandma taught me that/
even the bruised parts of fruit/
are juicy. I’m glad!

Fighting Gender Stereotypes: Putting Up Peaches for ME — 20:00 p.m.
When I’m putting up/
peaches why do women think/
my Mom asked me to?

Waste Not Bruised Peaches — 21:07 p.m.
Several peaches were/
bruised. I ate them all. Waste not…./
The night will be long.

It Frustrates Me I Don’t Know How: Revolutionary Improv Blogging Free Verse

I confess.
I don’t know how.

I know how to take troubled youths
and mold them into a fun-loving, happy,
“Did you have fun?” “YEAH!” team.

I know how to take eager young minds
and show them things in nature
their parents and teachers can’t see.
To teach them the balance between all things.
To help them help the world heal.

I know how to take young men and young women
into the wilderness,
how to prepare their wood so well
that it only takes one match
to keep them warm
and cook their food.

I know how to take illiterate folk
who for decades have claimed they
can’t write,
and have them create verse and prose
so moving
they can’t believe
the words fall from their fingertips.

I know how to take senior citizens
who feel they have no value
and bring out their stories
and find their worth
and make them smile
again.

I know how to make people
laugh,
rejoice,
size the day,
observe,
be happy.

I know how to make senior citizens
and babies smile and laugh,
how to make dogs
wag their tails.

I know how to take
suburban landscapes,
dead, barren lawns,
and change them into
multi-hued gardens
of scented delight
and nourishment
and beauty.

I know how to find
ancestors long gone,
how to help others
find their roots,
how to work through
the mists and dust of centuries passed
to find themselves.

I know how to take
a stranger by the hand,
look him in the eye,
connect,
smile,
and give him hope.

I know how to observe
people,
nature,
situations,
the world
and write verse
and prose
that move people
to joy
and contemplation
and action.

I know how to stand
in front of congregations
and make them weep
with joy
because I know.

But my daughter
is dying,
because I don’t know
how to navigate
a system that does not
value any of the things
I know how to do.
A system that requires
so much paperwork
that she will be
dead
before I know
what I don’t know.

And I don’t know how
to do what I must now
do.