Dear ______,
Look, I know your problem. You want to write a poem. You don't have much time. Right? Well, here's how to set about it.
First, get yourself into writing mode. Take a clean sheet of paper and lay it on the desk. The size of the paper should match your time availability. Remember the old poem size formula:
Paper size = Poem length = Time taken
Select your writing instrument with care. It can be a blue pen or a black one. Alternatively, it could be red or green. (Yes I agree, you can use pink or cerise if you ant to. Yes, or purple. Look, it doesn't matter what the damned colour is as long as you can write with it!)
Now sit down and stare at the paper. Consider the essence of your poetic idea. Don't do this for too long, particularly under a bright light. This can lead to your mouthing the idea like a manic mantra until you're removed for sedation. Better take the plunge and write it down. That's your title: e.g. "The Cosmos".
Now we come to the difficult bit – those lines that go under the title. At this stage, just write the disconnected thoughts that occur to you. (Later, you can call them "streams of consciousness". Can you see the pattern of the poem beginning to emerge yet? I can, and I'm only writing these instructions.
You should aim to have 16 or 24 lines available. Cross out any spares because you need poetic symmetry. Now count the syllables on each line. You are looking for ten on each one. If you have over run, cut out the verbs first (modern poetry eschews hyperkinesia). Then have a go at those prissy adjectives.
What about outputs? Well, after thirty minutes we have a well-shaped poem. There is just one final task. Reach for your rhyming dictionary to tidy up the line endings.
You've done it! Sixty minutes and you've a well-rounded poem on "The Cosmos" or whatever. You are now ready to test your bardic effusions.
A word of warning. Don't read your poem to close friends. Their insensitive, mocking laughter can damage your creative psyche. Instead, here's what you do. You look for intelligent sensitive people with time to listen. Go to the local library with your poem and a squeaky cork in a bottle.
Stand at the entrance to the reading room. Identify a cluster of potential, positive poem recipients. Get among them. Under your overcoat, slowly remove the cork. Watch for signs of anguished horror. Approach your most sensitive person and say quietly "I've got something for you outside – now!"
Immediately, your will notice that any signs of ennui will have been replaced by an expression best described as "alert".
If your first attempt fails, approach others in the library until you are evicted. Your poem may not be heard, but at least you will get to meet people.
Conrad
PS. I am now following in the footsteps of Walton's The Compleat Angler. My work will also be a practical guide, but on how to manage an urban estate: From Servile Gatekeeper to Magnificent Malvolio. I shall use Chris' recent career as my model.
